#but its still sickening to see them all staring at her up and down when she visits that main building location

[musubiki]

do other black canvases think mochi is hot?? i want mochi to have people crushing on her lime needs to be humbled a wee bit 🙏

AN EXCELLENT QUESTION: YES THEY DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and its such a shock to mochi!!!!!!!!!!!! shes so used to essentially being ignored and completely forgets that it has no effect on them!!!!!

i have an episode idea where post-timeskip, mochi goes and visits the main headquarters building of the m-34th (location name pending) under the guise of "Lime left his sword thing at home/forgot his lunch/something" in order to investigate and scope out the area!!! no witch has had any excuse to do this ever!! and at that point the m-34th dont know who tf she is, only that she shows up to the front gate with one of their weapons saying "Uh...is Lime here? He forgot this thing this morning and I thought it might be important so I came to drop it off..."

and the front guards just look her up and down for a second (with an expression mochi doesnt recognize) and gets on the comm to be like "Hey uhh is Goldwood in the building? There's a cute girl out here with his sword." and gives her a little wink, personally escorts her in, gives her a lot of "Hey, you know...that Goldwood is kind of a casanova. You shouldn't get too involved with him." and "You know if you're not doing anything later...maybe wanna grab a bite to eat? My treat?" and the whole time shes FLUSTERED she doesnt know how to react to these things... just "Oh no hes not like that!" and "Oh- uh- maybe!"

after that incident lime doesnt hear the end of it...NUMEROUS other officers being like "Hey are you actually going out with that girl?" and "Have you guys broken up yet? I want first dibs." and lime is absolutely sick every time they bring it up

(very funny though when she goes, some of them really take a long look at her before finally going "Ah! I remember where I've seen you. You're the girl Goldwood has pictures of in his locker--" and limes like "OKAY LETS GO TALK OUTSIDE MOCH OKAY BYE GUYS GOTTA GO--")

(also remember that grand capitol ball episode? where mochi uses the mob spell so she blends into the party and doesnt stand out? she has a straight up cinderella moment where shes walking down the corridor and at least half the m-34th guards are just staring at her...pretty lady)

[loves0phelia]

hii, I was wondering if I could request something with rafe! when they’re stranded in Morocco, at night, all of them together after Sarah and JJ come back, around the fire, all bonding and rafe being a bit apart, maybe reader tries to talk to him, trying to make him feel less alone or something? would love to see what you come up with!<3

Crazier

Summery: Realizing your as crazy as Rafe for loving him.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: mention of murder, grammar mistakes.

A/N: thank you for requesting i hope you like it even though its not exactly what you asked xx

Everyone walks out of the water slowly and exhausted, the night was crazy. The boat was stranded a few feet away from the shore because of the intense storm that had hit. You were all dizzy and disoriented but also insanely worried. Your friends Sarah and JJ had both disappeared into the water earlier that night, lost in the waves, with no way to find them.

Rafe was the first to hit solid ground. He stumbled forward, collapsing onto his back in the sand, spitting out seawater. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, the salty air biting at his raw throat. 

“I looked everywhere,” John B said, running up the hill, his voice shaky and hoarse. He coughed, forcing himself upright with one hand pressed to his chest.

“I couldn't find them,”  He said in defeat, but nobody answered. You and the rest of your friends only shook your head and sighed. The silence was heavy.

You pushed your hair out of your face, looking over the crackling fire.

“Maybe they just washed up further down the beach. We have to keep looking,” John B said, still hoping his pregnant wife and his best friend weren't gone forever.

“Well look at first light” Kie affirmed earning nods from the rest of the pogues.

Your gaze drifted from the fire for a second and you noticed Rafe, sitting on the other side of the fire, apart from the group. His eyes connected with yours and a chill went down your spine. It's like you and he understood each other without speaking a word. You knew you needed to talk to him as soon as possible. You needed to.

The sun rose on the horizon and the beach was eerily quiet now, save for the crashing waves and the occasional call of a seabird. The others were spread out, combing the shoreline for any sign of Sarah or JJ. But Rafe was apart from them, sitting on a jagged rock a little further down the beach, his shoulders hunched and his face set in a grim expression.

Rafe had stayed up all night, he would never say it but he was worried about his sister. The mere thought of his sister being gone, drowned in the ocean, with no way to find her body, sickened him. He looked so out of place—angry, lost, and alone and while the Pogues had ignored him, you couldn’t. You knew Rafe too well to leave him like this.

Taking a deep breath, you veered off course and approached him.  

“Hey,” you called softly.  

Rafe didn’t look up. He was staring at the waves, his jaw tight, his hands resting on his knees.  

“Rafe,” you tried again, more gently this time.  

He finally turned his head, his eyes narrowing slightly when he saw you. “What do you want, Y/N?” His tone was sharp, but there was no real bite to it.  

You sighed, and sat crisscrossed in the sand next to him “I just wanted to check on you. You’ve been sitting here for a while.”  

“Why? Thought you Pogues hated me.”  He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head

“That’s not true,” you said quickly, and after hesitating you added, “I don’t. I never did”  

That seemed to catch his attention. He looked at you fully now, his blue eyes searching yours. “Yeah? Since when?”  

You tilted your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite the tension. “Since always, Rafe. You know that.”  

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered. “Feels like I’m the villain in everyone’s story. Including yours.”  Rafe’s gaze dropped to the ground, his fingers digging into his jeans.

“That’s not fair,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “We’ve been through a lot, you and me. And yeah, you’ve made some… questionable choices. But that doesn’t erase everything from before.”  

He scoffed, running a hand through his buzzed hair. “Before. You mean before I screwed everything up, right? Before I became the guy everyone loved to hate.”  

You frowned, your heart aching at the bitterness in his voice. “Rafe, you’re not that guy to me. I still see the person I used to know. The one who’d sneak out of Tannyhill to meet me, a pogue, at the docks. The one who didn’t care I had to work 36 hours a week to be able to live. The one who used to make me laugh when I had the worst days ever.”  

“Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “But that guy’s long gone, Y/N.”  

You shook your head, leaning in slightly. “I don’t believe that. Not completely. I think he’s still in there somewhere.”  

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at the ocean, the tension in his jaw slowly easing. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more vulnerable.  

“Why are you even talking to me? After everything… Why bother?”  

You reached out hesitantly, your fingers brushing against his. “Because I care about you, Rafe. I always have, always will”  

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look at you either. Instead, he stared at your hands for a long moment.

“How? How can you still care? I ruined everything after… after I killed Peterkin. I ruined us” His tone was vulnerable.

The memory came unbidden, sharp and vivid like a wound reopened. 

It had been late—one of those sticky, humid Outer Banks nights when the air clung to your skin, thick with salt and heat. You stood on the dock by the marsh, your arms wrapped around yourself, waiting. The soft lapping of water against the pylons had been the only sound as you stared at the dark water.  

Rafe had promised he’d meet you there. The day was crazy. John B had come running to the chateau his skin covered in blood that wasn't his. He had claimed Rafe, your Rafe, had murdered the sheriff. But you couldn't believe it you had to ask your boyfriend yourself.

When he finally showed up, the boy you’d known was a shadow of himself. His shirt was wrinkled and half-untucked, his hair wild like he’d run his hands through it a thousand times. And his eyes��those piercing blue eyes you used to get lost in—were bloodshot and unfocused.  

“Rafe,” you said softly, walking up to him, your hands reaching for him like magnets, the edge of worry sharpening your tone. “What’s going on?”  

He stumbled slightly as he stepped onto the dock, catching himself against a post. “Nothing,” he said, brushing your concern away with a shaky laugh. “Why do you always gotta ask that, huh? I’m fine.”  

“You don’t look fine,” you countered, stepping closer. You could smell the alcohol on him, sharp and sour, mingling with something else you couldn't quite place. Your heart twisted painfully. “Rafe, is it true? Is it true what John B said?”  Tears flooded your vision.

“John B?” He let out a bitter laugh, louder than it needed to be. His unsteady voice carried over the quiet water.

“Yes, did you kill the sheriff?”  Your brows furrowed at his behaviour.

“No! I was saving my dad!” he slurred, stepping closer to you, “you’re always gonna believe your little friends over me uh?!”

“That’s not true!” You shot back, Your voice rising in frustration. “I’m here because I don't believe them. I'm here because I want to know your side of the story.”  

He scoffed, turning his back to you and running a hand through his hair. “Fine, I did kill her!” he shouted and his voice echoed over the water surrounding you.

“Why Rafe? What happened?” your chest tightened and your hands still reached for him but he stepped back and pushed your hands away. 

“She was gonna kill my dad!” he said, his voice raw now, almost broken as he hyperventilated.

You stepped closer, Your eyes searching for his. “Rafe, breathe please, baby.”  Once more you stepped toward him but this time he pushed you away entirely. Your back hits the railing of the dock hard, the wood digging into your skin.

“Don't fucking touch me!” he screamed and held his head like he was in pain.  

Tears burned in your eyes. “Rafe,” you said, your voice trembling. “don't push me away, please. We can figure it out together okay? It doesn't matter to me what you did, I love you”  

He took a step back, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Don't come near me again alright?”  

“Don’t do this,” you begged, your voice cracking.  

But Rafe had already turned away, walking back down the dock toward his truck. You stood there, frozen, watching as he disappeared into the night.  

What you didn't know was, after this moment Rafe felt as if his lungs were being ripped from his body, he couldn't breathe. The feeling of losing you was too much for him even though it was his fault. But you didn't deserve the chaos of his life so he left you broken and empty.

That was the last time you’d seen him before everything fell apart—before all the adventures, the chaos, and the betrayals that split your worlds in two.  

Back in the present, you blinked, the memory dissolving like mist. You glanced over at Rafe, his face as unreadable as ever. For a moment, the words were stuck in your throat.  

“I've always loved you, Rafe. Maybe it's because I'm crazy. Maybe I'm even crazier for thinking you're a good person for killing for the people you love no matter what” At your words Rafe eyes widen and his hand tightens around yours almost like he searched for signs to understand if he was dreaming or not.

“I'd kill for you in a heartbeat,” he whispered.

“And I'd kill for you” Yours and Rafe's eyes pierced each other's souls.

“Guys, they are back!” You heard Pope scream as JJ and Sarah appeared behind the mountain of sand.

Rafe broke eye contact to look over at his sister and when he saw she was in fact well and alive you could see the tension being lifted from his shoulder.

Knowing you still loved him just as much as he still loved you and knowing his sister was safe was all that mattered. 

[pickingupmymercedes]

Thank you, for everything (it takes a village) - Lewis Hamilton ft. Ayrton Senna

Little something for the 30th Anniversary of Senna's legacy

pairing: Senna! Reader X Lewis Hamilton

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, 30th anniversary of Senna's legacy

wordcount: +4k

song: In your arms - Birdy

a/n: People in Brasil don't say is the anniversary of his death but rather of his legacy, and it's such a beautiful way to see it. I hope Ayrton knows, wherever he is, how loved he still is.

a/n.2: Ayrton was known as Beco/Becão by his family and friends

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi! (Also, my written portuguese is a bit rusty, so if there's anything weird, please let me know)

______________________________________________________________

When hope went away I still held on, to the love that you gave, it’s all I’ve got of you now. I will never know you, don’t get to understand, no answers to questions. It’s too late for that. But I was in your arms, once

A pre-dawn Miami humidity clung to y/n like a second skin, even inside the automatically cooled hotel room. The city slept, but the salty air carried a raw energy that mirrored the turmoil brewing within her. Today, the 1st of May, was a day she always needed to face alone.

She laid there, staring at the ceiling, the weight growing with each passing moment. Today, the air itself seemed thick with an unspoken grief, a shared memory of loss that resonated across the globe. 30 years. Three decades since the world had watched in horror as lives changed forever, hers included.

The sheets felt too restrictive, the silence too loud. Pulling them back, she tiptoed past the rumpled form of Lewis, still fast asleep. He'd offered to come with her, to run by the beach together, but she needed this. Needed the solitude, the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement to chase away the ghosts of a past she barely remembered.

Miami slept, bathed in the faint glow of pre-dawn light, but Y/N felt wide awake, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Stepping out onto the balcony, the salty air stung her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean, the darkness slowly giving way to a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a silent tribute to a love stolen too soon. Every year on this day, it was as if the world held its breath, waiting for her grief to surface. This anniversary wasn't a celebration; it was a stark reminder of the void that had forever shaped her life.

The need to move, to outrun the memories that threatened to consume her, became an insistent ache. With each step, a memory flickered to life, but one always stood out the most, the one few people knew of.

She was four, piloting her tiny kart around a makeshift track at Interlagos. The familiar scent of burnt rubber and exhaust fumes flooded her senses, transporting her back to a time before tragedy struck. Y/n grinned, her hair whipping in the wind, as she pushed her little kart to its limits.

A wild turn, a sickening jolt, and the world tilted sideways. Then, strong arms scooped her up. "Tudo bem aí, filha?" (Everything okay there, darling?)  Her father's voice, warm and reassuring. He checked her over, a playful glint in his dark brown eyes. "Você tava indo bem, se assustou?" (You were doing great, did you scare yourself?)

Y/n shook her head, a defiant tear clinging to her cheek. “Eu acho que tá bom por hoje já.” (I think that’s enough for today) Ayrton ruffled her hair, a conforting glint in his eyes. “Não pai, eu quero baixar o tempo da volta”(No dad, I wanna lap faster) little y/n stood her ground, already half way back into her kart. "Vamos voltar lá e mostrar como se faz então, Senninha” (Let’s go back there and show who’s boss then, Senninha).

The memory faded, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the waves. Y/n stopped, chest heaving. Frustration gnawed at her. She would never know that feeling of hearing him cheer her on in that deep, familiar voice again. All she had were these fleeting snippets, these echoes of a life stolen too soon.

Each stride was a battle cry against the past, a desperate attempt to find some semblance of peace. She ran until the sun climbed higher, painting the sky in vibrant hues, until her lungs burned and her legs screamed for mercy. Finally, Y/n slowed to a walk, chest heaving, sweat stinging her eyes.

Collapsing onto a weathered bench, she leaned forward, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. As the initial wave of exhaustion subsided, a new clarity washed over her. The memories would always be there, a bittersweet reminder of a love lost.

But today, she would celebrate his life, his passion, his legacy that lived on, not just in her name, but in the hearts of countless who still chanted his name at races.

Returning to the hotel, Y/n showered, the steam slowly clearing the remnants of the run and the emotional turmoil. Opening the bathroom door, she found Lewis propped up on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, a concerned look in his warm brown eyes.

"Morning," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "Early run?"

She offered a tired smile. "Needed to clear my head." She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling a towel around her damp hair. "Big day ahead"

Lewis put down his phone, his gaze intent on her. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice softer now. "You alright?"

Taking another deep breath, she met his gaze. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Just… emotional, even more so this year"

Lewis reached out and took her hand, his touch a warm anchor in the storm of her emotions. "No judgment," he said quietly. "Today isn't easy for you, I know."

Y/n leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his understanding. "Interviews all day and the dinner at night" she sighed. "They want me to relive it all – the memories, the grief. It gets exhausting sometimes."

Lewis nodded. "Maybe you could have your people reschedule some of it. There's no need to—"

She cut him off with a gentle shake of her head. "No, Lew. I can't hide from it. Today may be hard, but it's important. It's a chance to celebrate his life, to keep his memory alive." she squeezed his hand, a newfound determination strengthening her resolve. "I just…" she hesitated, her voice thick with emotion, "I wish I could remember more."

Lewis's gaze softened further. "You may not have years of childhood memories, but you carry his spirit in you. His passion, his strength, that's part of who you are."

Y/n looked out the window, at the city slowly waking up to a new day. His words held truth. She may not have clear memories of her father, but his legacy, his love, was woven into the fabric of her being.

Taking another deep breath, she met Lewis's gaze, a small smile danced in her eyes "I hope so.”

Today would be impossibly hard. As people celebrated a hero, she would mourn a loss, but they would all be facing the future nonetheless. He may have been gone, but the love he gave her remained, with her and in her.

"I remember you my way, It’s not perfect or fair, I paint you with colours, That weren’t ever there. Feels harder these days after so long, ‘Cause my memory fades"

The sterile hotel conference room felt strangely warm, the air thick with a mix of anticipation and unspoken grief. Y/n sat opposite Galvão Bueno, the legendary Brazilian motorsport commentator, his kind eyes reflecting a lifetime of witnessing triumphs and tragedies on the track.

But this wasn't just another interview. Galvão knew Ayrton. Knew him not just as a driver, but as a friend, a competitor, a kindred spirit who left a void in Brazilian hearts, and most acutely, in Y/n's.

The interview began, a dance between formality and shared history. Galvão's questions flowed, laced with a quiet respect that Y/n appreciated. "Ayrton" he began, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips "sempre teve uma maneira diferente de cativar o público” (always had a way of captivating a room"

Y/n nodded, a flicker of curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Ele tinha” (He did) she admitted "Mas para ser bem honesta, eu lembro de sempre ficar puxando ele para sair dos lugares porque ele parava para conversar com todo mundo” (But to be honest, I remember always dragging him out of every room because he would stop and talk to everyone)

A warm chuckle escaped Galvão's lips at her confession. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Você sabia que antes de toda corrida, ele fazia um ritualzinho? Ele parava na frente do carro, fechava os olhos, e... bom, ninguém sabe direito o que ele fazia. Mas ele tocava o carro em três lugares específicos – o nariz, a roda direita dianteira, e aqui” (Did you know that before every race, he'd have this little ritual? He'd stand by his car, close his eyes, and…well, no one knew exactly what he did, but he'd touch the car in three specific places – the nose cone, the front right wheel, and then, right here) Galvão tapped his chest over his heart.

Y/n smiled, surprised that someone still remembered that sequence. But, although this was the Ayrton Senna she knew from the countless documentaries and newsreels, how he recounted that from memory was a glimpse of a private Ayrton, a man seeking solace and strength before the roar of the engines began, not something she would notice while watching a video.

"E tem mais, Senninha” (There's more, Senninha) he said, using the affectionate nickname many Brazilians called her by. "Você sabe que ele era muito supersticioso. Ele nunca usava um capacete novo pela primeira vez em um final de semana de corrida. Sempre insistia em um mais velho, mesmo que estivesse ruim para usar.” (He was fiercely superstitious, you see. He wouldn't wear a new helmet for the first time on a race weekend. Always insisted on the old one, even if it was a little worse for wear.)

Y/n couldn't help but let out a small laugh, a welcome sound that broke the tension in the room. "Parece exatamente algo que ele faria” (That sounds exactly like something he’d do) she said, a newfound appreciation blooming in her chest.

Galvão continued, weaving a tapestry of anecdotes. He spoke of Ayrton's meticulous work ethic, his relentless pursuit of perfection, and then, with a twinkle in his eye, of his playful side. "Ele sempre arrastava os reporters brasileiros para o kart em Interlagos, lá onde você aprendeu a pilotar” (He'd always drag Brazilian reporters to go-kart at Interlagos, right there where you learned how to race" he reminisced, a fond smile creasing his face. "E deixa eu te contar, seu pai sempre ganhava da gente, por muito!" (And let me tell you, your father would always beat us, by far)

Y/n listened, captivated. These were stories of a man, not just a legend. A man who found joy in competition, even outside the high-pressure world of Formula One. As the interview progressed, a kaleidoscope of Ayrton unfolded before her, a man filled with complexities and contradictions, yet undeniably her father.

Stepping out of the stifling conference room, Y/n felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Galvão's interview had stirred a potent cocktail of emotions within her – a heady mix of pride, nostalgia, and a gnawing sense of loss. Back in her hotel room, she found her ant Viviane unpacking a basket of goodies as she waited for her youngest niece. The scent of warm pão de queijo filled the air, a familiar comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Você chegou, florzinha" (You’re here, little flower) the elder woman said, her voice as warm as the sun, pulling Y/n into a tight embrace. "Como foi?” (How did it go)

Y/n sank into the hug, the scent of lavender and her ant’s comforting embrace temporarily pushing aside the weight of the interview. "Foi bom” (It was good) she mumbled, pulling away slightly. “Galvão knew Dad well, that's for sure” y/n’s changed to English, hoping it’d be okay to use the language she didn’t have to think so hard to answer back in.

Both women sat by the outdoor sitting area of the room, the crash of the waves a comforting distraction as y/n ate the last bits of the cheese bread that were being served all day during the interviews on the anniversary and promotions for the new Netflix show.

"I believe everything's going well for the dinner latter tonight” the younger offered, more out of obligation than conviction. Viviane’s gaze sharpened, the lines around her eyes crinkling with a quiet understanding. She held Y/n’s gaze until she asked "But something troubles you, doesn't it?"

Y/n hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. It was a familiar pattern her family knew all too well, the switch to English, the fiddling, the lack of glint in the eyes she had inherited from Ayrton.

Taking a deep breath, y/n confessed, "It's just…all these interviews, all these stories about Dad. I feel like everyone knew a part of him I never did."

A shadow flickered across Viviane’s face, a brief echo of the grief they both still carried. She reached out, gently squeezing Y/n's hand. "My love" she began, her voice soft yet firm “Beco was a complex man. Even those closest to him couldn't fully grasp him. He was a whirlwind, a force of nature on the track, but off it…" she paused, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "He was a private man, and yes, perhaps a little distant at times. He lived for his racing, dedicating every fiber to it."

Y/n nodded, a familiar ache tightening her chest. "It's not that I blame him," she said quietly. "He was the best."

Viviane’s smile softened. "He was, my darling. But being the best came at a cost. It left little room for the mundane, the everyday things that build memories."

A flicker of a childhood memory sparked in Y/n's mind – the faint scent of her father's cologne, the warmth of his hand enveloping hers as they walked through a park. They weren't grand gestures, but they were hers, proof of a love that existed beyond trophies and championships.

The elder saw the shift in Y/n's eyes, the glimmer of a forgotten memory. "Não se compare com o Galvão ou com qualquer outro, meu amor” (Don't compare yourself to Galvão or the others, my love) she said gently. "Você é a filha dele. Você conheceu o Beco, o homem com o mesmo olhar que o seu” (You are his daughter. You knew Beco, the man with the same eyes as yours)

Y/n's gaze drifted out to the bustling Miami cityscape, a blur compared to the vivid image forming in her mind's eye – a playful smile on her father's face as he taught her how to say pão de queijo. It was a fleeting memory, but a precious one nonetheless.

The stories, though fragmented, were pieces of a larger puzzle, a picture of her father that was starting to take shape, not just as a legendary driver, but as a man capable of love, laughter, and quiet moments of joy.

As they finished their lunch, Viviane placed a comforting hand on Y/n's cheek. "Go now, my darling," she said, her voice soft yet strong. "Celebrate your father, honor his memory. But don't forget to celebrate the love you shared, the love that lives on within you."

Y/n nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, this time tears of gratitude for the woman who had been a constant source of love and support throughout her life. Leaning in, they embraced tightly. "Obrigada, tia. Por tudo" (Thank you, antie. For everything) she whispered, the words thick with emotion.

As she left the hotel room later, for another round of interviews before the official dinner, Y/n went to the window, gazing out at the ocean once again, taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Obrigada, pai. Por tudo.” (Thank you, dad. For everything). It was a simple phrase, but for her, it held the weight of a lifetime of love and an unspoken promise to keep his legacy alive.

"And these aren’t tears because you’re gone, But for all the years that we lost, All those times I missed that love, Had it just for a moment"

As the night dawned in Miami, the heat dissipated but the humidity continued to clung to the city like a second skin. Y/n bustled around the room, a flurry of nervousness. The dinner to celebrate Ayrton Senna’s legacy started in a couple of hours and although the event had been meticulously planned for weeks, and by at least 30 people, the weight of the world felt concentrated on Y/n shoulder’s, the formal host to the dinner.

Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his lower waist, beads of water clinging to his dark braids. He stopped short at the sight of Y/n, a smile spreading across his face as he took sight of her sat perched on the edge of the bed, a faded white t-shirt of his hanging loosely on her frame, a white towel turbaned around her wet hair.

"Planning on hitting the town like that?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "Although" he added, his voice dropping a touch lower, "I do love the look."

Y/n laughed, a sound that banished the last vestiges of worry from Lewis's heart. "Not quite," she said, her smile widening. "I’m trying to figure out what to post"

He noticed her phone held open on the bed, displaying two video options. As he walked closer, his bare chest brushing against hers for a fleeting moment – a small reminder of the intimacy they shared – Y/n looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a light he hadn't yet seen earlier in the day.

"Help me choose" she said, her voice filled with a newfound energy.

He picked her up and sat her on his laps, occupying her place by the edge of the bed, the scent of his shower gel a subtle but pleasant counterpoint to the sweet aroma of the lotion she had applied. He leaned over to see the two videos.

The first one, showed a baby Y/n, barely a year old, toddling through a sun-dappled garden, her chubby arms flailing as she chased a flurry of brightly colored butterflies. In the background, Ayrton with a gentle smile on his face, playfully swatting the butterflies away from his daughter.

The second video, showed a slightly older Y/n, around two years-old, in a swimming pool. Ayrton, submerged in the water next to her, was demonstrating how to blow bubbles. Y/n, a mischievous glint in her eyes, mimicked his actions, creating a flurry of glistening bubbles that danced around her face.

"The bubble one. Something about that mischievous gleam in your eyes always has me hooked” Lewis said, amusement dancing in his voice

Y/n laughed, a sound so genuine and unburdened that it made Lewis's heart skip a beat. "I was always a rowdy thing" she admitted, a playful glint in her own eyes.

"A charming one, at that" Lewis confirmed, reaching out to kiss her shoulder. Picking the video, Lewis handed the phone back to her. "Let the world see that side to you" Y/n grinned, tapping on the screen to schedule the post.

She got up and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed, and a few minutes later Lewis walked into Y/n intently listening to her phone on speaker, as she fiddled with a stray curl as she spoke.

"Adriane" she soothed; her voice laced with a warmth that cut through the phone's static. "Você está indo como minha convidada, lembra?” (You're coming as my guest, remember?)

A nervous laugh tinkled on the other end. “Eles sabem disso?” (Do they know that?). Andriane, Ayrton's last girlfriend and a prominent Brazilian television personality.

Y/n bit her lip, a pang of sympathy shooting through her. "Eu sei.” (I do know) she sighed. "Eu sei que eles nunca realmente te aceitaram, mas você era diferente. Você foi a única que ele me apresentou” (I know they never really accepted you, but you were different. You were the only one he introduced to me."

A brief silence followed, then Adriane spoke, her voice softer now. "Ele queria uma família, Y/n. Uma família para você. Ele sempre falava isso, seu futuro, com ele” (He wanted a family, Y/n. A family for you. He talked about it all the time, your future, with him)

Y/n's heart clenched. Memories flickered – fleeting glimpses of her father smiling at her from across a dinner table, his eyes holding a tenderness she hadn't quite understood at the time. Perhaps, she thought, there had been more to those moments than she'd realized.

"Obrigada Adriane, por tudo. Por ter sido parte da vida dele, e por ser parte da minha, do seu jeito.” (Thank you Adriane, for everything. For being a part of his life, and for being a part of mine, in your own way) she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Adriane sniffled softly and then laughed “Você é tão charmosa quanto ele, Senninha” (You are as much of a charmer as he was, Senninha) a sound that banished the last traces of tension. "Vai dar tudo certo.” (Everything will be alright)

With a final exchange of goodbyes, Y/n hung up. Glancing over at Lewis, who was attempting to catch the few Portuguese words he could understand. She took a deep breath. "My family’s not gonna make this any easier" she sighed, her voice hesitant.

Lewis turned and reached for her, pulling her by the waist with a questioning look etched on his face. Y/n, feeling a flicker of anxiety, explained the conversation, but mostly of the unwavering loyalty she felt towards the woman who held such a significant piece of her father's story.

As she finished, Lewis placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "You miss him, don't you?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding as you gave him a sad smile and nod.

"It doesn't matter how long it's been" Lewis continued, his voice firm yet gentle. "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Y/n remained silent, the weight of his words settling in. He knew the anniversary was a constant reminder, a punch to the gut every year. He could only imagine the whirlwind of emotions it brought – the bittersweet memories mixed with the crushing weight of what could have been.

"It feels unfair, sometimes…" she started, her voice catching signaling she wouldn’t complete her thoughts. Lewis tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. "It is unfair," he agreed, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

Y/n leaned into his touch, seeking solace in his words and the steady beat of his heart. The dam finally broke, and a light sob went thought her body. Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent. Lewis held her close, whispering reassurances against her hair, letting her feel without judgment.

"Every year," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "it's like a punch to the gut. A reminder of all the birthdays, holidays, just…everyday moments I missed with him." Her voice cracked. "Everyone has stories, memories. They remember his laugh, his jokes, his warmth. All I have are these…flashes of moments, barely enough to string together a semblance of who he was."

Lewis didn't try to fix it, to offer empty platitudes. He simply held her gaze as she spoke, a silent promise etched in his eyes. He wouldn't try to replace the memories she never had, but he would be a part of her future, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold.

“It's okay to mourn the future that was stolen from you” he whispered, his voice gentle, as Y/n leaned into his touch, a flicker of something akin to peace flickering in her eyes. "Do you think he would have liked me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The question hung heavy in the air. It was a question she'd probably grappled with for years, a silent fear gnawing at the edges of her grief. Lewis knew he couldn't give her a definitive answer, but he could offer her the solace of a possibility.

"There's no doubt he would have loved you fiercely." he said, his voice firm with conviction. “And he would have been so proud of the woman you've become."

Silence settled between them once more, but this time it was a comfortable silence, filled with a newfound understanding. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For being here, for listening, for understanding."

Y/n turned, her eyes meeting his in the mirror, a fresh wave of tear forming in her eyelids. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"These aren't sad tears" she explained, wiping away at her eyes "They're just…wish you were here' kind of tears… For this" Y/n gestured at the phone on the counter. "For the celebration, for being surrounded by people who loved him. I just wish he could be here too."

Her voice softened, an acceptance in her eyes. The pain and loss would always be there, a part of her story. But there was also space for joy, for celebrating his life, and for building a future for herself.

As he pulled her into a warm embrace, Lewis whispered into her ear, "He is here, Y/n. In you, in your strength, in the mischief you still carry in your eyes. Every step you take forward is partly because of his love for you."

They stood there for a moment longer, a silent conversation passing between them. Y/n pulled away, wiping the last vestiges of moisture from her cheeks.

"Alright then" she said, a playful glint back in her eyes. "Let's go celebrate Dad. And show Miami a little Brazilian hospitality."

Lewis grinned. "Lead the way" his arms wrapping her and turning her around so he could kiss her.

The 30th anniversary of his death, although grim and a meticulously planned affair, held a significance that went beyond events, interview and RSVPs. It was a celebration of a life well-lived, a father cherished, and a daughter determined to carry his legacy forward, one mischievous bubble at a time.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

[stevie-petey]

heyy i know you prob need to write chap 3 (btw cjapter 2 wa sso well written as usual), can i req a blurb? maybe one where he cheers bug up after a bad day or some fluff of steve, bug n robin

since chap 4 was so ,,,, dark, heres some fluffy steve rob n bug <333

enjoy !

"im legally owed time with y/n."

"jesus!" steve nearly drops the stack of movies hes precariously balancing in his arms. he didnt hear robin come in, she isn't even supposed to be working today.

robin slides on top of the counter and stacks yet another movie onto steves already too large pile. "hey, did you hear me?"

"why are you here right now?"

"because im legally owed time with y/n."

"what does that even mean?"

"that im legally owed time with y/n."

steve nearly throws the movies hes holding in robins face. shes been here for not even a minute and he already wants to strangle her. he loves the girl, shes his best friend, but steve forgets how infuriating robin can be when she wants something.

angrily setting down the stack, steve pinches the bridge of his nose and faces robin. "alright, what the hell are you talking about?"

she stares at him. "i am owed. time with. y/n... legally."

"robin, i swear to god-"

"why are we swearing at robin?" you appear from the breakroom, carrying a few rentals in your arms. stopping next to steve, you hand them to him with a smile. "i found the rest of keiths stash. he has a very weird obsession with molly ringwald."

"y/n!" robin throws her arms over you and hugs you fiercely.

you squeak in alarm, though you allow your body to rest against hers. while youre always happy to see her, youre confused by robins sudden affection. "um. hi?"

"im legally owed time with you."

steve covers his hand with his hands and groans obnoxiously loud, but you simply laugh and nod eagerly at robin. "oh, i absolutely agree."

"you actually understand what shes saying?" steve looks at you incredulously. he cant believe it. youre actually going along with robins weird new scheme.

you roll your eyes at your boyfriend. "i mean, isnt it obvious?"

"yeah, harrington. its pretty clear, like crystal." robin butts in, shoving her hip against steves, effectively pushing him away from you so that shes the one now next to you.

"robin is legally owed time with me, so of course i have to abide by the law." you shiver slightly. "crime scares me."

it sickens steve how in love he is with you sometimes, and it sickens him even more that he finds you painfully adorable in this very moment. shuddering at the idea of crime, abiding by robins made up laws in a way that makes his heart twist.

"i'll be sure to never let you anywhere near crime then, angel." steve laughs fondly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

robin gags and you giggle. "thanks, honey. does that mean youll let me go spend some legally obligated time with robin today?"

"but-"

"you hog her all the time!" robin steps between you again and she glares at steve. "i mean, i get it. youre in love and whatever, but y/n is my girlfriend, too."

you blink. "i am?"

not that youre upset about it, but it wouldve been nice to know sooner.

"i had her first!" steve scoffs. "and i dont hog her, i simply am always with her. theres a difference."

robin flicks him. "is the difference the chemicals imbalance in your brain from all that stupid hairspray?"

"okay, i do not use that much hairspray-"

"what happened to not letting me anywhere near crime?" you poke steves chest, pouting slightly. admittedly, you have been slightly distant from robin lately. not that its anyones fault, shes just been busy with band and you with the party and college applications. still, you know she misses you, and you miss her. "im sure you can survive one day without me, steve."

"no i cant."

robin gags again. "youre pathetic."

"youre the one who insisting youre legally owed time with y/n!"

"because i am!"

"hey!" you clap your hands, the sound loud enough to break up whatever quarrel is happening between steve and robin. "im right here, you know."

robin grabs your hand and pulls you away from steve. "and now youre leaving with me."

"oh, alright." you dont do much to fight her, allowing her to drag you towards family videos front door. "i was going to go willingly, but this works too."

"y/n!" steve shouts halfheartedly. he knows hes lost, but he doesnt mind. secretly, he loves how close you and robin are. he also recognizes how little time youve spent together, and he cant help but feel a little guilty about it.

you wave briskly at him, giggling under your breath. "call me tonight?"

"always."

"i love you!"

steve laughs. "i love you, too." then, just before the door closes and you and robin disappear, he calls out, "bring our girlfriend back in one piece, buckley!"

"make me!"

and with that, the door swings shut and the sound of your laughter lingers in the store.

steve smiles softly, the warmth of your presence enough to ignite his chest. he'll miss you today, but he knows that tonight itll just be you and him. no one else.

and thats enough for steve.

until he turns around and remembers the giant fucking pile of movies he still has to restack.

"fuck my life."

[darkgodcomplex]

Rusted Smiles

Peter (Your Boyfriend) X Reader

AO3 Link

Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Leg Amputation, Agoraphobia, Kidnapping, Nightmares

Enjoy :)

You're drifting. Images come and go from your mind, never sticking around enough to really remember. Where are you? Home? The diner? Your apartment?

You're at your apartment. At least, you think you are. The ceiling feels much too tall. You're in your bedroom. No, the kitchen.

Lucy is making you coffee. You shiver, the apartment is cold. Was it always this cold? You attempt to walk over to her, reaching for the warm cup, but you can't seem to move. Lucy turns to look at you. She's mouthing something, but nothing is coming out. The silence is deafening.

Then suddenly the world is loud. She's screaming, "Please! Please don't leave me!"

Her face morphs, twisting into Don's face, then TK's. They're all screaming. A blob of flesh, moving towards you.

"Darling, please don't leave me!"

You step back, suddenly able to regain use of your limbs. You turn heading towards the door. They yell after you, even as you slip outside and slam the door shut, holding them inside.

You're not on the street. You're in the woods. It's cold. A heavy snow has fallen. You trudge forward. When you look back, the apartment building has disappeared. You shiver, tugging your sweatshirt closer to your body as you keep moving.

You hear a car revving... or is it a van? You swivel your head around. The soft rumbling changes to a guttural growl. Your eyes land on a dog a few meters away.

It arches it’s back in a defensive position, growling lightly. As it sneers, you see rusted metal teeth protrude from it's mouth. It snaps, biting the air before pouncing at you.

You stumble back, racing through the woods. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, along with the snapping of the dog's metal teeth. The snow fall gets heavier as you run. Is it even winter? You're so cold. You need to leave. You need to escape-

As you step, your left leg sinks into the snow. You tug, but it stays stuck. You can still hear the dog behind you. There's snow in your shoe, you can't feel your leg. It's so cold. It's so cold. You close your eyes. You hear the snap of metal teeth and a sickening crunch.

You jolt awake, hands gripping for something and finding sheets. Where are you? You feel dizzy... and cold. Groggily, your eyes try to focus.

"Lay back down, you're okay." A hand presses you back down. You're in a bed. "Just relax."

You blink. A concerned face stares down at you.

That's when everything hits you. The kidnapping. The escape attempt.

The bear trap.

You struggle, trying to prop yourself up on your elbows.

"Really, you need to rest." Peter tries to soothe you.

"I need to see-" You grunt, reaching a shaky hand towards your legs. "I just need-"

"Fine. I'll show you, just lay back. You're pretty heavily drugged."

Reluctantly, you lean back against the pillow he tucked behind your head. You shiver, secretly glad to not have to move. All your limbs feel heavy.

"Don't freak out." Is all he says before he flips the blanket off you.

It takes a moment to process. Your eyes trail down your leg to where it... just stops. Just above the knee is where your leg ends. A thick gauze is wrapped around the wound, already bloodied. You dread to think of how much blood you lost.

Maybe its the drugs, or maybe it's just the shocking revelation, but you don't feel angry. Not at Peter, not at the bear trap, not even at the circumstances. Instead, you start to cry. Heavy tears fall down your face, which is pale from the blood loss. To your own surprise, you reach out to Peter.

"Y-You're not g-going to let me die, right?" Is all you can choke out between the tears and the drugs.

His eyes widen, "Of course not." He grabs your hand. His palms are warm as he rubs up your arm. "I disinfected it and you have painkillers and antibiotics in your system. I'll take care of you, I promise."

Tears still fall. You rub at them with your hand. You feel him gingerly crawl into the bed with you, arm wrapping around your shoulders to cradle you lovingly. "It's okay, it's okay."

You clutch onto his shirt. You tremble, pressing your hands against his warm body. You wince as you feel you leg, or rather what used to be your leg, brush against the bed. You don't want to die here. You don't want to die of infection.

"I won't let anything happen to you." Peter buries his face in your hair as he holds you. "Don't worry, the next round of painkillers should be hitting you soon."

They already are. You find yourself unable to cry anymore, a wave of blissful indifference washing over you. Your eyelids start to droop.

"I have to go to the store to grab more medical supplies." Peter lays you down gently as he gets up. "Rest while I'm gone."

You try to reach for him again, but you find that your hand won't move. "Will y-you get me apple j-juice?" Your words are slurred. "For some r-reason I really want apple juice."

He gives a light smile, petting your hair. "Of course, darling."

You fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You wake feeling like someone just shoved you down several flights of stairs. You groan, trying to sit up. You're alone. Once again, you pull the covers off.

It's almost like you didn't expect it to be real. Yet, here it is. You stare at your amputated limb. A wave of nausea rushes over you. Shakily, you reach a hand down, feeling down your leg to where it simply stops. Above everything else, it simply feels weird.

The door opens and you jerk your head up, eyes wide as Peter steps in.

"Oh, you're awake."

He's holding a few pills as well as a glass of apple juice. Saying nothing, you reach for the glass.

"Take the pills first, then you can down the juice." He tells you, handing you the cup. "These painkillers aren't as strong, so you won't be sleeping as much."

You gulp down the pills, happy to drink all the apple juice. You've never craved apple juice a day in your life, but it was like food to a starving man right now.

Peter gave a light laugh, "Your body must need the sugars." He says, kneeling by the bed to watch you.

When you finish, you hand him the cup, wiping your mouth.

The two of you sit in silence for a long moment.

"How do you feel, darling?" He asks, reaching to look at your wound. "I changed the bandage again while you slept."

You shrug, chewing on your lip.

His eyes slide up to look at yours, hand ghosting over the bandages. "Are you okay?"

The truth is, you don't have a single thing to say. Anything you could say would just get caught in your throat. Surprisingly, you still can't find it within yourself to be angry. You're just scared.

You reach for him. He grasps your hand without hesitation, holding it tight.

"I love you." He says firmly, looking into your eyes. "Everything is going to be okay."

You give a swift nod, bottom lip trembling.

"You should eat something." Giving your hand a squeeze, he lets go, hooking one arm behind your back and the other under your one knee to lift you up. Your arms scramble to wrap around his neck.

He carries you out into the kitchen, gently setting you down in a chair. He hurries back to the bedroom, coming back with a blanket that he drapes around your shoulders.

"Does soup sound good?" He grabs a can from the cabinet. "It'll be nice and warm."

He manages to heat up the soup without any disasters and serves the bowl in front of you. You stare down at it.

"Oh, right, a spoon." He hurries to the drawer, coming back to hand you a spoon.

It's only then that it hits you. You're entirely dependent on him now. You certainly can't walk, especially if he decides not to give you a prosthetic or a wheelchair. There's no way you could ever outrun him now.

Still, you dip your spoon into the soup, bringing it to your mouth. It's salty and delicious, you eat the whole bowl.

When you're done, he takes away the bowl. You watch as he cleans it.

"What am I supposed to do now?" You speak up hoarsely.

He looks over at you as he turns off the faucet, brows scrunched in worry. "What do you mean, darling?"

"What am I supposed to do with my life?" You stare down at the table. "I can't go anywhere. I can't do anything here."

"You can do whatever you want." He says. "I'll just be here to help you."

In the following weeks, your leg heals nicely. You're haunted by nightmares and phantom pains, but physically, you're fine. You and Peter fall into a routine. For meals, he carries you to the kitchen for breakfast and sets you on the counter so that you can help. While he works, you read or knit or paint or any other of the countless activities he put together for you. He bought you everything you ever could've asked for. Then, in the evenings, you curl up on the couch and watch tv. It's simple... and you almost like it.

On one evening, he left to pick up groceries. You were left on the couch to read, thumbing through the book when you hear him come back. He bursts through the front door, smiling.

"I have a gift for you, darling." He grins, setting the groceries on the table. "I'll be right back."

You perk up, setting down your book. He returns from his van holding a pair of crutches. Hurrying over, he sets them near the couch. "I figured it's best if you could get around the house on your own." He smiles, watching you grab them. You heave yourself up, wobbling. Your muscles definitely aren’t what they used to be. Peter’s hands ghost your waist, ready to catch you if you fall.

You grip the handholds of the crutches, swinging yourself forward. You manage to wobble around the living room.

“See? Look at you go.” He says proudly. You smile at him.

“You know, I was thinking.” He moves closer to you. “Maybe we could go for a walk? Outside, of course.”

You glance over at the door nervously. Why did the idea make your stomach twist?

“We don’t have to today.” He says quickly. “After all, you’re still getting used to the crutches.”

“Yeah.” You echo quietly. “After I get used to the crutches.”

That night, the two of crawl into bed. You’ve been sleeping together for a while now, ever since your leg healed enough to not hurt when bumped. Peter lays on his back, your head on his chest as you clutch onto him.

“Goodnight.” He says gently, rubbing his fingertips up and down your spine.

“Goodnight.” You say, hugging him tighter.

You’re at the diner, sitting in one of the booths. It’s loud, like it always is. Servers are bustling in and out, people are chatting loudly. TK sits across from you. The only thing that’s in front of them is a glass of apple juice.

“Has the diner been busy?” You ask.

They simply stare at you, smiling.

“… Are you still looking for a new apartment?”

Silence.

“TK, are you alright?”

As you speak, the diner goes silent. You turn your head, everyone is looking at you. Nervous, you look back at TK, who is slowly opening their mouth.

“TK?”

Blood gushes from their lips, an impossible amount, dripping down their face and onto the diner table. You try to scramble away, but as you lift yourself away from the table, you fall to the floor.

Your leg. You only have one leg.

Everyone has begun to laugh. You look around in panic. They all stare at you, smiling with their pointed metal teeth.

You bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. Peter is grasping you in an instant, tugging you close.

“It’s okay now, I’m here, I’m here.” He grabs your face, pulling you so that your forehead’s touch. “You’re safe.”

“I was at the diner, and everyone had these teeth-“

“Do you know where you are now?” He says, thumb brushing your cheek as he nuzzles your faces together.

“Home?”

“Home. That’s right.” He says lightly. “Nothing can hurt you here.”

You throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as he lulls you back to sleep. Before you fall asleep, however, a single thought flickers in your head.

What are you so afraid of, if not him?

You move around the house, getting a better handle of the crutches. It’s nice to not completely rely on Peter for getting around. You’re able to get your own food and sit in the living room whenever you want.

You stand over Rat’s cage, peering in as Peter comes out of the hall, having just finished work.

“What are you doing, darling?”

You look up, “Nothing.” You tell him, hoisting yourself over to him.

“You’ve gotten a handle on those pretty well.” He observes, watching you move.

“I have.” You say proudly, moving around to show off.

“I think we should go out today then.” He says. “I think a walk would be romantic.”

A pit settles in your stomach. You have been doing well with the crutches. Honestly, there’s no reason why you wouldn’t want to go outside.

“Okay.”

Peter gives you one of his jackets. It’s big on you, but warm. He ties your shoe for you.

Unlocking the door, he pushes it open, heading out in front of you and holding the door open. You crutch forward, lingering in the doorway, looking out.

A cold breeze hits your face. Slowly, you begin to crumble in on yourself, shaking your head slowly.

“Darling?”

Your body trembles, lower lip quivering as you try to move back.

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

You quickly try to move back, but your crutch catches on the wall, sending you tumbling backwards into the house. You land hard, having the wind knocked out of you.

Peter rushes to your side, kneeling down as you shake your head, tears falling down your face.

“Don’t make me go outside, don’t make me go.” You sob quietly.

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” He quickly moves to shut the door, returning to your side after. He scoops you up, carrying your trembling form to the bedroom. You hold onto him for dear life.

Curling up on the bed, he rocks you, kissing your forehead as he whispers soft reassurances. As you calm down, he leans close, whispering in your ear.

“Don’t worry darling, you never have to leave again.”

[descendantsramblings]

Family Lines

"Hi i wanna request about Uliana. Like reader is Bridget older sister and one day she visited Bridget because it was family day and their parents cant visit Bridget so Reader is the one visiting her instead and when uliana first saw her she immediately fall in love to reader and start being nice to Bridget so she could get more info about reader" - requested by @gayforfemaledancers

Uliana X Hearts! Reader

Pronouns Used: She/her/hers

Summary: Family Day sparks a new found thought process in a particular sea witch, making her change her ways for even those she despises the most.

Warnings: Bridget and the reader's parents kinda suck, honestly I made a lot of the parents suck, it is what it is. Hades finds Uliana's crushing annoying, Uliana is so obviously insecure.

Word Count: 2.6k words

    For most, Family day would be exciting. Royals were bubbling about the campus, fae holding their wands and testing spells in hopes of being the first to please. Desperate for an ever craved praise, the day offering the perfect chance to get the rare reward. For Bridget Hearts, it was bittersweet. As always her parents, ever busy with the ways of wonder, couldn’t make it to see her. Instead, sending her still homeschooled elder sister through the rabbit hole to accompany her. Of course, Bridget would take any chance to see the girl, she was pretty much the only thing in her life that resembled a friend until Ella came along. But that didn’t make her any less upset when she got the news, just once she wished family day could actually be family day for her. She just wanted to resemble the other royals, like Charming and his perfect crowned prince life. Maybe if she had that, she’d get other attention easier too. 

    Regardless, the pink haired girl couldn’t find it in her to care anymore as she saw a familiar face waiting out in the courtyard of Merlin Academy. Barreling towards the slightly older girl and throwing herself into the familiar embrace that awaits her. “Bridge!” “(Y/n/n)!” The squeals are followed with giggles as the younger girl is spun around. “God, Wonderland is so awful without you. It’s so unfair that you’re all the way out here, the castle is far too quiet. I miss hearing your awful music taste through the walls.” Her words are lovingly mumbled into the her sister's hair, firm grip holding the girl close. The bubbly girl’s feet find the ground again, the two finally releasing each other from the nearly painfully tight embrace. “I miss you so much more! I wish you could come out here with me. I really only have one person to talk to.” (Y/n)’s lip finds its way between her teeth, a softness finding its way into her gaze. “Well then,” she dusts off Bridget’s shoulders, adjusting one of her necklaces as she speaks “You best get to introducing me to them. I need to know who takes care of you when I can’t.” 

     A pale hand encases (Y/n)’s as Bridget drags her to the courtyard exit she’d just come through. A nervous girl with blue hair and a patchwork pair of overalls waits for her there, seeming to smile as she sees the excitable princess bound up to her, sister in tow. “Ella, I want you to meet my favorite person from back home!” 

    Family day was not a fan favorite for the VKs either. Their parents were all too withdrawn to care or too stuck up to act like seeing their child mattered. No reason to be down in the courtyard if they were just going to be disappointed.Instead the group sat hulled up in Uliana’s dorm, playing a half-hearted game of black jack. Unluckily for them, her room overlooked the function, the noise of excitable families floating up into their space. She stares out the window, watching the way they all pranced around the grounds. Cards being abandoned as she moves closer, looking out as if willing something to happen. Hand in hand or arm in arm, spells flying through the air and praise following quick behind them. It was sickening, the way heroes loved their kids could make your teeth rot. So full of sweetness and sugar that one taste could bring a ting of green to your skin. Yet, she couldn’t peel her eyes away. Her mother had always shown up for family day before Ursula graduated, Morgana tucked in tow. Where was she now? Shouldn’t she be here for her too? Perhaps fair treatment of her children was too much to ask for. Everything else that Uliana wanted seemed to be. 

    Dark eyes lock on a head of vibrant pink hair, watching her bounce up and down excitedly as she gestures between Ella and someone. Uliana was sure she’d never seen the girl on Bridget’s side before. She was so regal, perfect posture despite the way that Uliana could see her bouncing on her heels. Her movements were too graceful, sliding smooth as silk as she leaned in to hug Ella. The girl was something straight out of a painting and the sea witch couldn't tear herself away. Something about the fact that she was touching the blue haired peasant girl, talking to her as if she wasn’t clearly above her, made Uliana feel wrong. It wasn’t quite sick, it was more so, angry? Sad? No she’d felt this before, she was without a shadow of a doubt, jealous. And over what? Who was that and why did she already seem to have a sense of control over her? That is not how things are supposed to happen to her. Why would she waste time with someone like Ella anyway? A sea of royals and villains so much better than the girl were around her. Uliana should go down there, show her that there was better people for her to look to.

    “Come here!” It’s not a demand to anyone in particular, just whoever will listen. Hook and Morgie appear to her sides in an instant, both leaning over her shoulder to look out the window with her. “Right,” Hook seems to sing the words, turning to her with his eyes rolling in their sockets, “Why exactly?” “Who is that with Bridget? I’ve never seen her before in my life.” Both boys single her out in the crowd, something about her seemed more like she was one of the queens there than someone their age. Too poised, too put together, it was enchanting. Morgie guessed she could be both, maybe something happened to Bridget’s parents and she was already queen. He never really took the time to ask, not like Bridget would give him a reason to. He wasn't exactly supposed to speak to her. Uliana snaps in their faces as she notices the way the boys stare, both seeming a touch too engrossed in the new face of the courtyard.  “I asked you who she was, not if you’d drool over her.” 

    “Well, Uli,” Hades passes a flame between his hands as if throwing around the idea he was voicing, “If you’ve never seen her before, and it’s family day, one may be led to assume that she’s part of Bridget’s family.” His comment earns a chuckle from the pixie beside him. Ulina turns around, eyeing the god in distaste. Family? Someone that effortless related to such a try hard? It seemed nearly far-fetched. “Family? You didn’t even see her, there’s no way.” “No she has to be!” Morgie’s excitable voice sounds in her ear as he turns away from her window. “Bridget told Ella in Alchemy yesterday that her older sister was the only one coming to see her for family day. Said she was her best friend, it’s kinda sweet.” He notices the looks of the room, quickly tacking on a, “If it wasn’t so pathetic. Poor thing has no friends to the point her sister must be the only one forced to talk to her.” 

    Hook swings by the duo, falling back into his seat beside Maleficent, “Tough chance, Uli. No way that gumdrop’s sister gives you so much as a taste of her attention. Pity too, the lass is a stunner.” “No!” Her voice rings out before she can stop it, grabbing the room’s attention. “I mean, I always get what I want, Prissy Pink’s sister should be no different. I could just convince her we’re friends and then she’d have no reason not to want me around. How could she?” Hades snickers, eyeing the sea witch over, “You, being around her by choice? You can’t stand Bridget.” Uliana lets out a slow breath, “It’s not like I’m actually going to be her friend. I just need to be able to fake it.”

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      If Bridget dared to look into her looking glass, she might’ve seen this coming. But the darling girl, ever excitable for surprises, was knocked speechless as the sea witch placed a batch of cupcakes iced in a near ghoulish green on the table before her. “Bridget,” her name came out in a slow drawn, forced coo as Uliana sat across from her, “How are you?” She smiles politely, looking to Ella who seemed just as confused as she was. “I’m good,” she nods curtly, attempting to keep a calm composure, “What’s this?” It causes her to sigh, Bridget was always trying to be friends with everyone; why would she seem so on edge about Uliana when she constantly tried to approach her? Maybe it was because Uliana had the upper hand? Surely it wasn’t that her rose colored glasses had slipped enough to see the true intentions of the witch in front of her. As far as she knew, Bridget’s rose colored glasses were more like contact lenses, suctioned to her eyes and internalized. But, this little charade might just be a harder game than she initially thought. 

   “Well,” she tilts her head to the side, breathing out a slow breath, “I just realized how unfair I’ve been. I mean, I’m in my dorm pouting because my mother is being so unfair to me but treating you so cruel. It’s a little more villainous than I thought I had in me.” To her shock, Bridget takes her hand, a gentle look of near pity written on her face. Everything in her screams to rip her hand away from the walking, talking piece of bubblegum, maybe a girl isn't worth it if she had to act like this. But as she thought that, she thought of the girl from before, the way she hugged Ella, and it made her feel sick. No, she was definitely worth it, even if just to learn her name. She had to know something about her.

    “Oh, Uli,” Bridget coos, “Your mom didn’t show for you either?” Uliana shakes her head, forcing what she hoped was a convincingly saddened look. “No, she's too wrapped up in Ursula to ever realize I exist. I’m sure you understand, right? With your parents not showing up either and all. Too engrossed in your sister, aren’t they?” Pink hair whips around as Bridget shakes her head, “Oh goodness, Uli, I never imagined she’d be like that. I’m so sorry. (Y/n) is the only one who showed up for me, I guess I lucked up in the sister department, she always shows up for me.” 

    (Y/n), it suited her. Perfect for such a stunning face, such a royal physique. It was like taking her first hit. Now that she knew something about the princess, she wanted more. “Oh,” she cuts her eyes up at the pink haired girl, “Is that who that was with you today? I was wondering why I’d never seen the girl around before. Someone like that? You’d be sure to notice her around here.” Bridget laughs and for a moment, as her mind is too wrapped up in the thoughts of someone else, Uliana almost finds the sound attractive. Maybe (Y/n)’s laugh would sound like her sister’s does? No, surely it was better. Everything about her had to be better, no way it wasn't. “Yeah, that’s her. She’s too busy being homeschooled back in Wonderland. She’s meant to take the throne in three years so my parents are absolutely set on having her learn how to be the perfect queen. Her classes are longer than ours. It’s ridiculous.” Homeschooled in Wonderland. So what? She wouldn’t see the girl again until next Family day? She couldn’t stomach it. 

    “Did she,” her voice is unsteady, Uliana taking a deep breath before trying again, “Did she head back to Wonderland already? I mean you must miss her so dearly.” “She’s off picking up dinner for us. She’s not going home until Sunday, lied to our parents so she could see me longer.” Bridget hums, taking a cupcake off the tray in front of her. So she had time. That’s all that Uliana needed to know, if it was up to her, Wonderland’s next queen would be wrapped around the tentacle of a sea witch.

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     Turns out, she decided that wasn't all she needed to know. Each time she thought she was ready to approach the heiress she'd panic, swearing she just needed to know a little bit more about her. The next few days were absolute torture for her. Pretending to be friends with Bridget was exhausting. No girl should have that much sunshine in her. It was too bright and cheery around Bridget, Uliana was sure the gleam that came off of her was damaging her eyes. But it was working. Bridget had let the girl’s favorites slip out at every question she asked. Her own family line being too naive to know she was ratting out Wonderland’s heiress’ deepest wants. It made it easy to make herself someone the girl could want. The princess was like a dog, drawn to treats. 

     A batch of cupcakes leading to her learning the girl was homeschooled in Wonderland. Holding the door open for the two led to Bridget indirectly telling Uliana that her sister was single as she teased her about finding someone. A batch of cookies was the perfect bribe to find out what the princess did for fun and what her favorite food was. A lollipop led to her learning that the object of her affection was into girls at all, something that made Uliana's chest feel a little lighter. Each little thing that Uliana gave the girl seemed to work like a truth gummy despite not having any of the truth serum in them at all. Bridget was just that easy, all it took was giving her the same treatment she gave others to get exactly what you wanted from her. And if she was honest, somewhere deep in her chest, that realization almost made Uliana feel bad. Of course, she was still an obnoxious bubbly fool to the sea witch but something about it nearly reflected Uliana back at herself. The royal family line was surely just getting to her. No way she could actually be growing to like someone with so much, pep.

    “Come on Mali, just one more batch of cupcakes and I’ll leave you alone.” Uliana was begging. Surely she had gotten enough information to ask (Y/n) out already. All of the Vks felt as if they knew the girl despite Uliana being the only one who ever met her.  “Uliana, just ask her out. You don’t need to keep buttering up her sister. She leaves the day after tomorrow. You ask her out or run out of time. No more cupcakes.” She huffs, throwing her arms out in frustration. “You’re being ridiculous. She obviously is going to say no, she hasn’t seen me be sweet enough to her gumdrop little sister yet. She's about to be queen, no way she's naive enough to trust a stranger.” 

    Hades chuckles, looking over the girl who was nearly throwing a tantrum in the middle of his girlfriend’s dorm room. “At this point I can’t tell who’s manipulating who. I mean, I thought you were manipulating Bridget to get what you wanted but,” he waves a hand over her with a chuckle, “Seems your new little royal crush is manipulating you without even having to try. Look at you, acting like a hero to impress her.” She snaps her head over to look at him, glaring daggers, “I am not acting like a hero.” He leans forward, smirk playing across his face with a brow quirked as if he was challenging her, “You’re right. You’re not acting like a hero, you’re acting like Bridget.” It makes her face fall, Uliana staring at the boy as if he’d just set her on fire. “I am not acting like that, try hard, goody-two-shoes princess. Don’t you dare say that.” “Oh really? Because you sure are toting treats around in hopes of having someone pay attention to you. Is that not what Princess does?” He quirks his head like a dog, watching as something seems to snap in his friend. 

    “You know what? I don’t need cupcakes. I’m a villain, I’m scary. If I want something, I take it! And when I can’t I break it so no one else will want it! I can do this my own way, no help from you.” Uliana storms out the room, tentacle snapping behind her to slam Maleficent’s door closed. The couple in the room share a look before erupting into laughter. “Did you see her face?” “God, she looked ridiculous. Twenty bucks says that she goes to Morgie to get cupcakes because you wouldn’t do it.” Maleficent looks at him with a playful smirk and adoring eyes, “Oh she so is. No doubt about it.”

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 4

General warnings: Daryl is an asshole and light descriptions of violence. Age Gap is brought up again. Summary: You're at camp when you witness the first big attack, and have to fend for yourselves until Rick and his group are back from Atlanta. Flashbacks to Daryl finding out you're dating someone older, then back to the present when you head out to the CDC.

It’s evening now, and you’re gathered around the firepit with everyone. Andrea and Amy had brought fish back, and Jim, after his earlier meltdown, seemed to have calmed down. You hadn’t witnessed it firsthand—you were stationed on top of the RV, binoculars in hand, anxiously waiting for the others to return. But hearing the whispers about him digging graves over the hill sent a shiver down your spine.

Laughter fills the air as Dale tells a story about his wristwatch, and you’re sitting comfortably between Shane’s legs, his presence a familiar warmth against your back. Lori sits across from you, next to Carl, her mood improved, but there’s always a tension lingering behind her eyes. Once in a while, you glance over, trying to read her, but every time you do, she catches your eye before you can look away. Each time, it feels like she’s about to say something, but the words never come.

Amy stands up quietly, and Andrea, ever the protective sister, stops her with a teasing question. “Where you goin'?”

“I have to pee,” Amy mutters, exasperated. “Jeez, you try to be discreet around here.” Everyone chuckles softly at that, the tension momentarily dissolving.

Shane’s fingers are in your hair, absentmindedly brushing through it, and you instinctively arch your neck back, relaxing into him. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head, making you laugh. “Ugh, baked fish in my hair? Really?” You wince playfully, but Shane just chuckles, brushing the crumbs off your forehead.

As you bring your head back up, you meet Lori’s eyes again—still locked on you, her gaze unreadable, but intense. The unease begins to creep back into your chest, your thoughts swirling, trying to figure out what’s going on between them.

Before you can think any further, a bloodcurdling scream rips through the air, coming from the RV. In an instant, terror jolts through you as you whip your head around to see Amy, her arm caught in the jaws of a walker. For a split second, everything freezes, the sight of Amy’s blood-streaked arm searing into your mind. Then the chaos explodes around you.

Everyone jumps up, running toward the scene. Screams fill the air, blending into a cacophony of panic. Shane is already up, shotgun in hand, barking orders, his voice barely audible over the gunfire. You grab the knife from your pocket, heart pounding, breath coming in short gasps as you run toward the nearest walker. There's so many suddenly around camp, you briefly wonder where the hell they all came from.

“Do we have any other guns?” you shout over the noise, eyes wide as you watch more walkers flood into the camp.

“Rick took the last one!” Shane yells back, firing off another blast, the sound deafening as it tears through the night.

The world around you blurs into a frenzy of movement and noise. You rush at a walker, grabbing its shoulder and dragging it down with all your strength. Its weight is crushing, but your knife sinks into its skull, the sickening crunch making your stomach churn. You roll off the corpse, breathless, trying to process the chaos around you.

More screams. Gunfire. Blood.

You catch sight of Amy again, her neck torn open by another walker. Andrea is shrieking, her voice raw and frantic as she rushes toward her sister. Jim’s baseball bat swings wildly, cracking against a walker’s skull, but it’s too late for Amy. She’s crumpled on the ground, her lifeblood spilling into the dirt, and Andrea collapses on top of her, desperately trying to hold her together.

You freeze. Knees hitting the ground, you stare at the unfolding horror. Everything feels surreal, distant, like you’re watching from outside your body. How did this happen so fast? Just moments ago, you were laughing, and now—

Suddenly, a crushing weight slams into your side, knocking you flat onto the ground. A walker, its decaying face inches from yours, gurgles as it claws at you, its rotten breath filling your nostrils. You gasp, your lungs seizing up, panic surging as your hand scrambles for your knife. But it’s too far, and the walker’s strength is overpowering. You try to scream, but no sound comes out. The walker’s teeth snap closer, its spit dripping onto your face, and your arm trembles as you struggle to keep it at bay.

Terror grips you—this is it, this is how you die. You fight with everything you have, but your strength is slipping, your left arm giving way under the weight.

Then, out of nowhere, an arrow whizzes past your head, embedding itself into the walker’s skull. Its body slumps on top of you, dead weight pinning you to the ground, and for a second, you can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t believe you’re still alive.

You scream, the sound finally breaking free, as you push at the corpse, frantically trying to get out from under it. Then, Daryl’s hands are on you, hauling the walker off and pulling you to your feet. His face is a mix of concern and focus, his eyes scanning you quickly.

“You good?” he yells over the chaos.

You nod, breathless, barely able to form words, but he takes your nod as enough and spins back around, loosing more arrows into the oncoming walkers. Your legs are shaky as you watch him disappear into the fray, your mind still reeling from the near-death experience.

Shane is with Lori and Carl, keeping them close as they back up toward the RV. You see more gunshots lighting up the night as Rick and the others finally return, joining the fight. But even with their help, it feels like the night will never end.

And then, suddenly, it does. The gunfire stops. The walkers are down. Silence falls over the camp, broken only by the soft cries of the living. You stand there, the adrenaline slowly draining from your system, staring at the bodies—both walker and human—that litter the ground.

The screams may have stopped, but the horror lingers.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

x flashback x

You know, just ‘cause I’m seeing someone doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hang out with my best friend,” you teased, trying to get a smile out of Daryl. He hadn’t shown up for your usual Thursday routine—pizza slices by the quarry—and you’d even told Shane not to come by, wanting to keep the tradition with Daryl. But when 9 p.m. came and went with no sign of him, you’d ended up calling Shane anyway, changing your plans at the last minute.

Now, you were at Daryl’s, in the back shed, jarring up the moonshine his father had taught him to make. Both of you knew it wasn’t exactly legal, but who was going to stop you? No cops ever bothered coming to this side of town, and you liked to think Shane wouldn’t bust you if he ever found out.

Daryl had been distant lately, ever since you picked him up from the police station. Maybe he was pissed. Or maybe you were the one being distant, spending more and more time with Shane. Shane always wanted to be with you—taking you stargazing or to the movies, even if it was always late at night.

Daryl wiped the sweat from his brow and grumbled, “Some boyfriend. Ain't never seen him. How’m I supposed to know he even exists?”

You paused, your hands still on the jar lid. “Forgive me for wanting to spend time with my man alone,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there was a bite in your tone.

Daryl just grunted in response, finishing up his jars before standing up and walking outside.

“Where’d you say you met him?” he asked after a moment, pacing around outside while you finished tightening the lids. The sunlight glared down, burning your already tanned shoulders as you stepped out of the shed. You squinted, trying to gauge Daryl’s mood. He was messing with the lock on the shed door, his torn tee shirt soaked in sweat, hands dirty from work.

“I didn’t,” you said simply, still hesitant.

He stopped fidgeting with the lock, narrowing his gaze at you. You sighed and finally admitted, “I met him at the station.”

Daryl let out a harsh laugh. “Jesus. One of those guys? Which one is it? Billy with the DUI? Or Hunter, who’s down there every other week?”

You shook your head, feeling your nerves start to fray. “Not one of the guys behind bars,” you said softly. “His name is Shane.”

Daryl’s laughter stopped abruptly. The smile vanished from his face as if you’d slapped it off.

“Shane Walsh?” he growled, his voice sharp. “Like, Cop Shane Walsh?”

“Sheriff, yes,” you corrected quietly, your eyes meeting his. Daryl’s lip curled, anger flashing in his eyes as he shook his head and turned away. Without a word, he started walking toward the woods behind the shed.

“Daryl, wait,” you called after him, quickening your pace to follow. You’d known he wouldn’t take it well, but he had to find out eventually. The longer you’d kept it from him, the worse it felt.

You trailed after him, a good ten feet behind, when he suddenly spun around, forcing you to skid to a stop before running right into him.

“What the hell’re you thinkin’?” he spat, venom in his voice. “It’s pathetic. Both of you. Disgustin’ he’d wanna put his hands all over a teenager.”

“Excuse me?” you barked out a humorless laugh. “I’m an adult, thank you very much. He and I are both adults. And it’s none of your damn business! At least now if you get in trouble, he won’t drag your ass to the station. You won’t be calling me at 1 a.m. to come bail you out!”

Your fists were clenched at your sides, trembling with rage. He had no right to talk to you like this.

Daryl stepped closer, his face inches from yours, eyes blazing. “I ain’t never ask you to fuck some pig to get me outta jail. I’d rather rot in there next time I get caught.”

His words hit you like a punch, and you recoiled, both of you fuming. Something flashed in Daryl’s eyes—guilt, maybe, but it vanished as quickly as it came. You stared at each other, chests heaving, daring the other to speak first. Your throat tightened, and you felt your eyes prick with the sting of unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall.

“Fuck you, Dixon,” you finally spat after what felt like forever. Your voice cracked just a little, but you stood tall. Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and stormed off, your heart pounding in your chest.

Behind you, you heard the dull thud of Daryl’s fist slamming into a tree.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

x flash forward x

The next morning, you stand beside Carol with a garden hoe in hand. Together, you both look down at Ed’s lifeless body. Despite how awful Ed had been, you can’t help but feel sorry for Carol and Sophia. The weight of everything—the violence, the loss—it all feels heavy in the morning light. You step forward, raising the hoe to strike, but Carol’s gentle hand on your arm stops you. 

“Please,” she whispers, her tear-filled eyes searching yours. “He’s my husband. Let me.”

You hesitate but nod, slowly lowering the hoe and placing it carefully in her trembling hands. It’s clear the weight of it is too much for her frail arms, but she insists on doing it herself. You step back, giving her the space she needs, even as a pang of sorrow hits you. As you turn to leave, you catch Daryl’s eye. He’s standing nearby, watching Carol with an expression that’s a mix of anger and sadness.

Shane is standing beside Rick, discussing radio channels, when the Morales family announces their decision to leave the group. You didn’t know them well, but there’s a sense of finality in the way everyone hugs them goodbye. You stand at a distance, observing as Shane hands them a box of ammo. Daryl clicks his tongue in frustration, swinging his arms out in disbelief. He catches your eye, silently looking for your support, but you just shake your head, mouthing, Not now. Daryl rolls his eyes, huffing in protest as he stalks off toward the vehicles.

As you watch the group pack up, there’s a bittersweet feeling in your chest. You’d only been at this camp for a day or so, but it had become something—a temporary home, if nothing else.

The plan had been clear enough at first: move before the woods became completely overrun with walkers spilling out from the city. Every day, more of them wandered closer to camp, their numbers growing. It didn’t take long to realize this place was no longer safe. Fort Benning had been the original destination, a military stronghold that promised security and structure. But then Rick mentioned the CDC.

He explained that it might be their best shot. The CDC had resources, scientists, and, most importantly, answers. If anyone knew what was going on with this virus—if there was any chance of a cure or a refuge—it would be them. Fort Benning might offer protection, but it was far off, and there were no guarantees. The CDC was on the way, and it seemed like their safest bet.

At first, the idea felt like a relief. Somewhere with answers. Somewhere with shelter. But the more you thought about it, the more questions weighed on your mind. What if the CDC was overrun too? What if there were no answers? Every place that had once felt like safety had been ripped away in an instant—who was to say this would be any different?

Still, the group needed hope, and Rick’s suggestion had given them that. It was something to focus on, to aim for, even if it was a gamble.

As you stood there, listening to the debate over where to go, you couldn’t shake the nagging thought in the back of your mind: what if Merle came back? If the group left for the CDC, would he know where to find you? Would he even try?

Your eyes drifted over to Daryl. He was quiet, but you could see the conflict in his eyes too. He’d been fidgeting with his crossbow, his face set in a hard line. You knew he was thinking the same thing. For all his bravado, Merle was still his brother. And for better or worse, Daryl wasn’t ready to abandon him completely.

The CDC might have answers. But you couldn’t help but feel like there was still so much hanging in the balance.

“Y/N,” Daryl calls, waving you over. His expression has softened, and when you approach, you notice he’s holding a piece of fabric and a tin in his hands.

“Lemme see,” he mutters, reaching for your hand. In all the chaos, you’d completely forgotten about the cut on your palm. Now that you looked at it, the gash had grown infected, the edges tinged with a sickly yellow. You hand it to him, feeling a bit embarrassed as he opens the first aid kit.

“Jesus, woman,” he hisses, shaking his head as he unwraps the dirty, stained bandage.

“Can of corn,” you mutter, grimacing as he pours water over the wound and follows it with antiseptic. The sting shoots through your hand, and you hiss through your teeth.

“You don’t need to waste these supplies,” you say, trying to pull your hand back. The wound stings, but you barely noticed it before. Surely it wasn’t that bad.

“Shut up and let me do this,” he grumbles, keeping your wrist firmly in his grasp. His hands are rougher than you remember, calloused and worn, but his touch is careful, gentle. When he’s finished, he wordlessly tucks the kit away and chugs the rest of a water bottle.

Daryl looks up at you, wiping sweat from his forehead. He grabs his crossbow from the truck bed and tosses a glance your way. “Comin’ with me?”

You smile and nod. Of course you are.

Climbing into the truck, you catch Shane’s glare from across the camp. His eyes flick between you and Daryl before landing on Lori, who stands near Rick. Something unspoken passes between them, and Lori’s face hardens. When Shane realizes you’re still watching him, he quickly looks away, walking toward the Jeep. Your eyes shift back to the dashboard as Daryl starts the engine, the familiar hum of the truck’s motor filling the air.

As you settle into the seat, your fingers trace the familiar stains and worn upholstery. Then, your eyes fall on the armrest, where your name is still scrawled in black marker:

Y/N WAS HERE 

A small, bittersweet smile tugs at your lips. The memory of simpler days—sneaking out to the lake, summer nights at the drive-in—washes over you. Daryl always brought the beer and popcorn, and you’d sit behind the fence, making up the lines you couldn’t hear from so far back. Those were good times, easy times.

A voice comes over the radio on channel 40, it’s Dale saying something about his carburetor. The RV breaks down after 20 minutes into the ride, Daryl huffing and slamming his hand on the wheel.

You stay put, watching as he gets out to investigate. You hope it’s something quick to be fixed, but after a while, Shane motions for you to join everyone. Sliding out of the passenger seat, you slam the door behind you and catch up with him.

“It’s Jim,” Shane says quietly, his expression grim. You follow his gaze to the RV, where Rick is helping Jim out. His skin is ashen, his eyes distant and hollow. He looks terrible. You forgot that he was dealing with a nasty bite this whole way, and he looks sickly green from the ride over. Everyone is pulled over on the side of the road, talking about what to do with him next.

“Oh god,” you whisper, covering your mouth in shock.

“He says he ain’t gonna make it much further,” Daryl says softly, stepping up beside you. His voice is calm, but there’s an undercurrent of sorrow.

You look between Shane, Daryl, and Jim, your heart sinking. “So what? You’re just gonna leave him here?”

“It’s what he wants,” Shane shrugs solemnly. 

They help Jim up the hill to a tree, where everyone says their goodbyes one by one. When it’s your turn, you trail behind Daryl, who simply nods at Jim before turning away. You give Jim a small, sad smile, unsure what else to offer. It’s not enough. It never is.

As you and Daryl walk back to the truck, he pauses beside the driver’s side, leaning against the mirror. His gaze drifts to where Jim is propped against the tree, and you wonder what he’s thinking. But he says nothing, so you sigh and climb back into the passenger seat.

A long moment passes before Daryl joins you inside. He sits back, looking exhausted, defeated.

“Sucks,” he whispers, the weight of everything crashing down on him.

Something in you breaks at the sight of him like this. Without thinking, you lean in, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He stiffens at first, but after a long, tense breath, his arm circles around you, his thumb tracing soft patterns on your arm. There are no words—none that would matter anyway. You just sit there, pressed against him, holding on for as long as he’ll let you.

After what feels like an eternity, he lets out a soft grunt. “Alright, c’mon,” he mutters. You pull away, sitting back up, and Daryl leans down to turn the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, and the caravan sets off once more, heading toward the CDC.

Chapter 5 is here

[serxinns]

Hi :)

Could you please write a platonic scenario of father Aizawa in which his daughter (she is in her teen years) has a really bad nightmare so she goes to his room crying and saying she is scared?

Thanksss.

Hope you have a great day

TW: Gore and limbs being decapitated readers death (only in her dream)

You've been often getting those night terrors that made you afraid of going to sleep, you tried staying up secretly watching TV to pass the time but Your father caught you one day and sternly told you to go to bed so all you had to do was either stare on your phone or stare up on the client but alas sleep overtakes you were knocked out

You heard screaming from the distance and footsteps running past you desperate to get away from it but failed when the creature got close to them and their pleading for mercy and help ended with a sickening crunch You covered your mouth tears streamed down your cheeks its growls sounded like a mix of a dying Animal and a human moaning in pain it kept searching and searching for more prey a man was across from you staring at you with the same reaction you had..terrified his eyes where blood shot red and there seems to be an injury on his lower waist when he saw that it was gone he looked at you for the last time and sprinted you heard nothing but footsteps from the man then seconds later you heard that thing crawling quickly towards the poor man screams and pleading for mercy were heard then there were silence and sickening crunching noises you couldn't take it anymore and threw up which the creature heard it slithered up to you now you and whatever that thing was close to each other you can see the man's arm still dangling from it mouth..the thing grabbed you with his sharp claws hovering you over his mouth and-

*BOOM*

The sound of thunder woke you up your clothes were dammed in sweat your face was soaked with tears all you could hear was your heavy breathing and tears you silently got up to go the bathroom to clean up, you grabbed your comfort plush and went upstairs your legs shaking and wobbling a bit but managed to make it in the bathroom "y/n? What are you doing up late?" you turned and your dad was shocked to see your horrified and soaked face he ran up to you grabbed your shoulders and kneel down to your level "Oh sweetie you've been crying are you alright did something happen"

you tried to explain but your voice was filled with mumbles due to the sobs and spit in there and just held onto him and cried your father didn't know what was going on but hugged you "cmon kid you sleeping in my room" he picked up you up and the 2 of you headed to his room, he turned on the lights and gently put you down and tucked you in "Now do you want to tell me about your bad dream or you'll explain in the morning" you hesitated for a second to tried to even explain "in the morning.." your dad signed and softly smiled at you, he kissed you on the forehead and wrapped his arms protectively around you

Next time he shouldn't added that much sleeping pills in your drink as a punishment for staying up the last time..but it rewarded him in the end to cuddle up with his beloved daughter~

[lanadeldixon]

Summertime Sadness

Pairing- Daryl x fem reader (some Rosita x reader if you squint)

Word count- 1.1k

Warnings- angst, implied panic attack, mentions of death, someone being beaten, starved Daryl :(

Setting- s7 Alexandria

Summary- The saviours come to collect their 50%, but when you see the condition Daryl is in it’s hard to cope.

“Oh my God,” I whispered “Daryl?” His name a symphony of worry on my lips. A name I used to say with such love now drained of its positivity and filled with fear instead.

Vulnerability shone through his eyes as he turned to me, “Y/N?”

As soon as my name fell from his lips, the end of a gun struck him straight in the jaw, the loud thud of his body hitting the ground echoed through the town.

My breath hitched and a tear rolled down my cheek as they hit him again, yelling at him, “SPEAK WHEN YOU’RE SPOKEN TOO!”

“Leave him alone,” my voice choked up to the point where it came out in only a whisper.

“Let him go,” I cried louder this time, desperate to draw them away.

Hands wrapped around my mouth, too quick for me to react, my screams came out as muffled cries as I attempted to call for help.

But it was no use, I was dragged backwards into my house,

“Shh, you have to calm down, okay?” I immediately un-tensed at the sound of her voice.

“You gotta be tough, you do shit like that you’ll get all of us killed.” Rosita exclaimed sternly.

Her hands released me and she circled me until we were eye to eye.

“You’re not gonna be doing us any favours getting yourself killed,” it was clear to see she was still in grief, she was mourning a man she’d killed off in her mind a long time ago, only now he was truly gone and it was still sinking in.

She had become colder, no one could blame her, however all of us were too busy drowning in our own insurmountable grief and missing loved ones to pay attention to anything else.

I nodded at her like a school kid following her teachers orders then opened my mouth preparing to respond.

“Bam!” The door swung open.

“We said 50% didn’t we?!” His voice shook us to the core.

Whispers of the dead conquered my thoughts as I turned to look at him.

“Woah ho ho well you must be the girl?!”

Negan exclaimed following it with a slight laugh.

“Well you sure are a pretty thing ain’t ya!” His hand reached to my face as he said it, I stared him down, not daring to move but still not hiding my resentment.

“If I weren’t such a fan of your boy Daryl I think I’d have to make you one of my wives,” a sinister grin took over his face as my mine began to pale.

He leaned close to my ear, to the point where I could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke, “Hell, im the boss, I could just do it anyway…”

I tried to hold back my anger, to not say anything out of fear of what he might do. But the idea of having to marry him sickened and overwhelmed me, “fuck you,” I snarled, eyes finally meeting his.

“You got some massive lady balls and I gotta say, I dig that.” He stated, pulling his face away.

“I’m so tempted to bring you home darling.” He finished, deep down I knew he was just teasing but the thought revolted me.

“I would never be the wife of someone like you,” I responded, my face scrunching up.

He looked at me still with that daring smile.

At that point I couldn’t taken it anymore, my rage boiled until finally, it spilled, I looked at him and let out a large wad of spit aiming it right at his leg.

“Go to hell,” I stated, storms in my eyes.

His face finally faltered as he stared at the stain on his trousers.

“Ho ho ho, you bitch,” he said grabbing the back of my hair and yanking me outside of the house.

“How about we put on a little show, huh darling” he purred in my ear.

I felt ill as he forced me to my knees and began to gesture with Lucille.

“Now I was gonna be nice today but it seems some of you still need an example of how to behave.” Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned as he spoke.

I didn’t cry, I was very careful to heed Rosita’s advice and made sure I didn’t once show my fear, Daryl however did not do the same…

“Y/N!” He screamed as if I was already dead.

“DONT TOUCH HER,” he cried with rage, “I’LL KILL YA!”

“Bring him,” calmly, he gestured to the woman on his right as he spoke.

She dragged him so he was diagonal to me, she then kept her hands on his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on me.

Now I knew to be scared but all I could think was how tired he looked, behind the rage and upset was masked malnutrition and exhaustion. I couldn’t help but worry.

“We’re gonna break up another couple tonight,” he laughed aiming and fake swinging his bat at me.

I grimaced at his statement recalling the story of what happened to Glenn and Abraham and the devastation Maggie and Sasha were left with.

“I’m sorry, you would’ve been a real treat to come home too but looks like you’re gonna end up another lost treasure.”

“Last chance to say goodbye lover boy,” Negan warned.

Daryl was screaming profanities at him, doing everything he could to divert Lucille’s attention to him instead but to my relief, his attempts failed…

That was when the countdown started…

“10…” my breathing quickened.

“9…” I could see Daryl’s mouth moving, his whole body scrambling beneath the saviours holding him back, but all I could hear was Negans voice.

“8…” “just continue to do this when you’re scared okay baby?” I could hear my mums voice infiltrating my thoughts, guiding me to breathe.

“7…” I can see the flowers, they look so pretty, especially now that the lilies have grown, my mother didn’t like lilies, she always loved roses.

“6…” I can see the sun, it shines so brightly today, beaming down its light onto all of us, I think of Daryl’s nickname for me.

“5…” I can see my friends, I love my friends. Part of me wishes I could see Maggie again, the other doesn’t want her to see this.

“4…” I can see the sky, it looks painted today, the way the clouds are floating looks ethereal.

“3…” I can see Daryl. My Daryl, I smile.

“2…” I can see the bat, it blocks the sun as it’s lifted high into the sky.

“1…” I can see Glenn and Abraham, I didn’t think I’d see them so soon but I’m happy-

“I’LL JOIN YA!” Silence overcame the crowd as Daryl pleaded.

“Just let her go, that’s all I ask” his voice quaked, there was a frantic look of desperation in his eyes.

Silence…

Negan chuckled before his face turned stern.

“Who are you?” He commanded in a teasing tone.

“I am Negan…”

[cherri-tomato]

Venomous.

Chapter 2: Coffee Cups

Pairing: SpiderMan x fem!venom!reader

Chapter Summary: Y/n's hunger grows, Venom is a pain, and Peter provides some much needed comfort.

Chapter content: non-descriptive vomiting, eating

Series masterlist

<Previous Next>

Y/n woke up with a pounding headache and a biting hunger. She rolled over. It was Saturday, she remembered, then the rest of her memories hit her, and she sat straight up, eyes wide.

“...Venom?” she spoke into her empty room, and she'd never been so glad she’d forked over that extra money for a single room as she was in that moment. Her breathing hitched as the same black head from the night before poked itself out from around her shoulder, and she was barely able to stop herself from screaming as its white eyes—if you could call them that—bore into hers. She could see her own horrified reflection in them.

“That’s me—or rather, us.” 

She took a deep breath. “What are you?” Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides and Venom's strange head tilted.

“Veno-” 

She cut it off with a swift shake of her head. “No. I mean what are you? not who.” Venom just stared at her, and she wondered if maybe it didn't understand her somehow, but then it spoke again. 

“We are a symbiote. And you-” its face moved closer. “You are our host.” 

She shuddered. “And…you eat…people?” 

Venom moved its head in the same way someone would move their hand when making a ‘so-so’ gesture, and her eyebrows knitted together. “Brains,” it corrected, and another wave of revulsion fell over her.

She choked out a noise like a pained animal. “Jesus.” Her next words tasted bitter on her tongue as she said them. “So…that guy last night-”

Venom licked its teeth; if it could grin any wider she was sure it would have. “Was a bit lacking in the brains department, but it'll tide me over I suppose~” 

She really was going to be sick. throwing her blankets to the side and rushing into her bathroom. She threw up once, then again for good measure, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and falling back against the wall. Her breaths came out in hard pants as she contemplated her current predicament. A brain eating…thing, symbiote, whatever—had taken over her body, and had used said body to bite a guy's head off. Right.

She threw up again at the thought. 

It took about 20 minutes before she finally got herself off the floor and made her way to the mini fridge that held all the food—she knew someone would steal if it was in the shared dormitory kitchen—and some water bottles that she immediately chugged, ignoring the way half the water spilt down her chin and soaked the front of her shirt. By the time she had drunk every one of the 7 or so bottles, she could practically feel her stomach eating itself with hunger, and she got to work devouring the rest of the contents of her fridge. 

Saturday passed in a blur of getting sick, arguing with venom and eating food that made her sick. She fell asleep at around 10 pm, which was actually fairly early for her, and woke up at 4 am feeling parched, nauseous and starving in a way she hadn't felt before. She groaned and then gasped as Venom´s head entered her field of view, “FUCK! Do you have to do that?!” She sat up, rubbing at her face until her skin was red.

“If you feed us, we’ll stop,” Venom hissed, and y/n promptly laid back down and covered her face with her pillow.

The dorm kitchen was mercifully empty when y/n eventually made her way downstairs; her hunger had gotten worse and she desperately wanted to eat. The fridge didn’t have much in it—most people did what she had been doing, keeping a mini fridge in their dorm room—and what was there was fairly bare bones. 

She ate what was there, silently apologizing to her dorm mates for eating all their food, but still felt the sickening hunger in her stomach. 

Venom’s voice spoke then. “Come on kid, it doesn’t even need to be human. Just some sheep or cows.” 

She shuddered. “How do I know you won’t just go on a rampage the minute I let you take over?” Her voice was shaky. She wanted to say no, to tell venom to shove it, but she was so hungry. “No…I can’t just…”

She sighed, grabbed a bottle of water and quickly made her way back to her room.

────────────

When Monday came, y/n was tired, miserable and starving.

Her classes started that afternoon, advanced calc first, then art history, and finally photography class. She’d realized far too late that she had in fact lost her camera, surmising it was probably destroyed or buried under debris in that god forsaken laboratory. 

“Shit,” she muttered as she dug through her backpack in search of the device, only to pull out loose papers and textbooks.

“Y/n, if you could take your seat?” The photography teacher's stern voice brought her out of her spiraling thoughts. She cleared her throat uncomfortably before zipping her bag back up and heading to her desk, head ducked.

Y/n’s seat was beside a tall brunette boy named Peter Parker. They hadn't ever talked much; a simple ‘hi, how are you?' or ‘did you complete the homework assignment?’—it was friendly, but she wouldn't call it friendship. 

Peter nodded in greeting as she took her seat beside him, her head immediately landing on her desk as she dropped her bag. “Woah, someone’s tired. You okay?” Peter inquired, offering her a boyish smile. She turned her head to look at him, and somewhere in her sleep deprived, starving, mind, venom eyed the young man with unmistakable interest, or rather, hunger. 

“Oh, he’s definitely got a juicy brain in that little head of his~” 

She nearly choked on her spit, immediately sitting up and looking forward, keeping her eyes off the brown haired man. 

Something was placed in front of her, and when she looked down she saw that Peter had moved his paper coffee cup into her line of sight. Her eyes darted over to him. Was he teasing her with the knowledge he had made the clever decision to get some caffeine, or offering it to her?

“I haven't drank from it yet. No germs, I promise,” he said while nudging it closer to her. The smell of hot coffee filled her senses. 

“Seriously?” her hand was already half lifted towards the cup, and peter snorted then nodded. 

“Yeah, no cooties I swear.” 

She rolled her eyes, her fingers already wrapped around the warm beverage as she spoke again, “no, i mean are you seriously giving this to me?” She asked. 

Peter was pulling his books out of his bag and placing them on the desk as he waved her off, “you clearly need it more than i do.”

And then it was her turn to chuckle as she lifted the steaming drink to her lips and took a long gulp. The liquid burned her tongue but she ignored it, drinking at least half of it before putting it down and sighing. Peter's taste in coffee was different from hers; the drink was bitter with a slight hint of chocolate and caramel that left a tangy but pleasant aftertaste in her mouth.

Peter was watching her with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk on his lips “late night?” He sounded just as amused as he looked, and y/n came to the realization he probably assumed she was hungover or something. 

She felt the sudden urge to defend herself, but how was she supposed to explain she hadn't been up all night partying but was instead being tormented by a symbiote that had invaded her life and had been yelling at her to find a brain to eat…yeah, that definitely wouldn't go over well.

Y/n only shrugged, chewing her bottom lip—which had become bitten and raw over the weekend—and Peter's amused expression turned into one of worry. His hand landed on her shoulder in the type of comforting touch one would expect from a friend rather than a virtual stranger, and her skin prickled under her shirt.

“Seriously,” Peter started speaking again, “are you okay?” 

She managed a small nod and Peter's hand dropped, which Y/n was immensely grateful for since she could hear Venom’s hungry thoughts gnawing at the back of her mind.

Her skin was still tingling as the professor started the lesson and began to speak about lighting techniques or something, Y/n wasn't exactly listening.

She stopped at a butcher after class, purchasing as much raw meat as possible with her…limited resources, before quickly making her way back to her dorm, pointedly avoiding the few people she passed as she shoved her door open. 

Venom didn't wait long before emerging, devouring the raw meat with only two bites before disappearing into her and saying, “This won't satisfy us for long.” She knew that. “You know what you have to do.” She did, though that didn't make the reality of her situation any less sickening.

“You can't just expect me to go around eating innocent people.” 

Venom made a noise that was probably an equivalent to a scoff, and she clenched her fist. “You didn't have much of an issue with it last time.” 

She grit her teeth. The feeling of bile rising in her throat had become upsettingly familiar since Venom’s arrival. “What other choice did I have?” Y/n pulled her knees to her chest, the memory of that woman, huddled in a corner and shaking with fear, somehow haunted her more than what she—what Venom—had done to protect her. 

Venom’s head poked out from around her shoulder and she flinched; the sight of its tar-like face and empty eyes was hardly a comforting one. “Come on, kid,” Venom spoke, “a couple less bad eggs wouldn't be a bad thing.”

She scoffed. “And what happens if someone sees me—you? Venom.” It was all very confusing to talk about. 

Venom laughed, and the sound did nothing to quell the unease twisting in her gut. “An extra snack~” 

She glared at the grinning head that was Venom. “Oh, shut up. Just because you have no moral compass doesn't mean I'm the same…” 

She rubbed her face with her hands and forced herself to stand. Upon walking over to her desk, she rummaged through her bag until she pulled the culmination of crumpled papers that was her homework out, and set to work on it.

────────────

The next day, Peter was waiting in his usual seat with two cups of steaming coffee, one placed in front of her usual spot.

────────────

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[her-power]

Fixation on the Darkness (Part Two: Dark Romance! e.m. x fem! reader)

‼️❌🛑18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🛑❌‼️

Trigger/Content Warning: Dark! Somewhat Souless! Eddie! Strong sexual content, blood play, unprotected p+v, choking, hair pulling, rough intercourse, fingering (f receiving), masturbation, oral (f receiving *for now*), fight or flight responses, grief, thoughts of unaliving self & others, manipulation, violence, smut, some fluff, angst.

Summary: Full Summary on Part One

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: There will be mentions of Vecna and El throughout the series, but I'm also going to be putting my own little spin on things where a lot of the ideas will be original. Thank you all for reading!

“I didn’t run away this time, right?” The pain was unbearable, his teeth clenched. 

“No. No. No. You didn’t run.” Dustin sobs. 

“You’re gonna have to look after those little shits for me, okay?” He was fading…he could feel it. 

“No, you’re gonna do that yourself!” 

“Nah, man. Say I’m gonna look after them, say it.” It hurts so bad. 

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna look…after them.” 

“Good.” He tastes blood. “I need…I need you to tell her…tell her that I’m sorry. And that I’ll always love her, and to…” He choked on his tears and blood. “Tell her to just live her life…she was the best…part of mine.” 

“I will…” Dustin sobs, Eddie lets out a choked breath. 

“I love you, man.” 

“I love you too.” 

He didn’t feel the pain anymore, he was fading away…the darkness was swallowing him whole. 

Thunder booms, an electric shock rumbles the ground. The bats that were still alive circle around him, watching, waiting. They would’ve feasted on the rest of his dead flesh, but something was happening. His hands twitch, the red sky glinting off his metal rings. His body jerks violently, his limbs twisting at odd angles before setting back to normal, a painful groan escapes his lips, and he inhales deeply, his lungs expanding. He stares up at the dark red sky, tilting his head as his vision adjusts and he was seeing things…differently. 

The sky was beautiful, he thought. Before, this was a place of his nightmares, a place that was the cause of the death of an innocent girl. A place that inhabited creatures of the unknown, a monster that controlled those creatures. 

He felt at home here. 

He sits up straight, craning his neck to the side, he grunts when he feels his neck readjust and the bones make a loud sickening crack. He gazes at his hands, unusually pale, bloody. Lifting his shirt, he sees that the fatal wounds that took his life were now scarring, and his skin healing. 

He chuckles, and he’s surprised at the mania behind it. He died in Dustin’s arms, crying like a little girl, making him promise to tell you all those stupid fucking things that made him want to puke. He pulls the bandana off of his head, tossing it to the side. His throat burned, and his ears rang. He gracefully gets to his feet, his eyes gazing up at the sky. 

Those fucking bats. 

One makes a nosedive towards him; he snatches the thing out of the air by the throat, he grins widely at his quick reflexes. The bat screeches in his hand, he tightens his hold on its neck, hearing a crunch and something animalistic escapes his throat. He feels a rumble in his chest, the ringing in his ears getting louder. He growls, ripping into the flesh of the bat with his teeth, feeling the black blood drip down his chin, flowing to the back of his throat. He drops the limp creature to the ground, sighing loudly. A pain hits the depth of his stomach, and he falls to his knees; his whole-body jerks, he feels like he’s been branded by a hot iron. He screams loudly, his fingers digging into the solid ground underneath him. It feels like his heart is beating out of his chest but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a heartbeat. He groans again, feeling a shooting pain go through his veins now and he collapses to his back, screaming loud. Something was happening to him, was he dying all over again? He grits his teeth, trembling in pain as another wave slams into his entire body. 

As quickly as it started, it stops. His skin becomes smoother, his muscles become tighter, and he feels stronger. He sits up straight, gazing at his hands. They were his hands, but pale, and…

Whoa. 

He laughs, his fingernails grow into claws, black as night. He wills them away and they disappear, back were his normal fingernails. He flexes his fingers, and the claws extend again. He grins, feeling something sharp nip at his bottom lip. His incisors were longer, but they weren’t just a second ago…or were they? He drags his tongue over his teeth, feeling the remnants of the blood from the bat and those sharp points disappear. Mmm. Who would’ve thought they’d taste so good? 

He was hungry for more; not for the bats but something else, something he could nurse…something he could…savor. Your face appears in his mind, and he grins. 

Oh, the poor thing. He laughs. I’m dead and now she’s lost forever. Poor…poor thing. I wonder if she still dreams of me, I wonder if I fuck her blind in her dreams, or she rides me until she can’t feel her legs. Mmm, she was a good fuck. That I remember. I know whatever is left of the old Eddie inside me is desperate to return to her, to hold her, love her. Ugh. 

I wonder what her grief tastes like. 

One year before the Upside Down…

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” You feel warm lips on your cheek, and you groan, burying your face deeper in the pillow. You feel his hands caress your hair, gently kissing the soft spot on your neck. 

“Go away.” You mutter. 

Eddie laughs. “You invited me to stay, sweetheart. Come on, I promised you breakfast.” 

You open one eye to look at him, his head is tilted at you, his dimples prominent with his smile. “Blueberry pancakes?” 

“Gross but yes.” He leans down to kiss your lips. “Anything for you.” 

You move onto your back and stretch, your shirt rising up your stomach. He grins at you, kissing your stomach and you laugh as his hair tickles you. He rests his chin on your belly, staring up at you, and you curl your fingers through his hair. “If you want us to get breakfast so bad, you probably should stop staring at me.” 

“Nah, I can bask for a few minutes.” He grins, reaching his hands up to caress down your arms gently, entwining your fingers. You close your eyes, savoring his warmth, his gentle kisses on your navel. He slides up your form, catching your lips in a passionate kiss. He holds your waist, his hand glides down to your thigh and squeezes the meaty flesh tightly. You moan and giggle against his lips. 

“What about breakfast?” 

He pins your free hand on the side of your head, gently squeezing, his mouth going to your lips, and you sigh. “Mmm, we can still make brunch.” 

Your eyes snap open, tears were in your eyes as you dreamt a memory. A memory that seemed so long ago now. It was dark, you slept longer than you intended, although you needed it. You sit up in your bed, your hair a wild mess, your body sore. 

Pleasantly sore. 

You had no idea what you were dealing with. You had no idea what he was…what he wasn’t. All he did was touch you, taste you, in places you were used to with him, but there was a different feeling behind it. Like he was feeding off you, feeding off your essence, your happiness, your euphoria. Your body shudders at the memory, you feel yourself clench, pleasant tingles dance in your belly. What he did; what you let him do…

You couldn’t take his teasing anymore while he fingered you against your front door. He was taunting you, every kiss of his cold lips, every thrust of his fingers. You had gotten sick of it, twirling yourself in his grasp, pushing your body against his, molding your mouth with his. You could feel him stiffen at the change, but he only groaned, his tongue entered your mouth with such urgency that it took you a minute to catch your breath. His cold hands tug painfully at your hair, but you welcomed it, you couldn’t stop touching him. In one swift movement, he has you pinned on the floor next to the fireplace. The flames reflected off his discolored eyes, making them more vibrant, more beautiful. He leaned back on his heels, staring down at you with that same sinister smile. He peeled off his shirt and jacket, his muscles so much more defined, his skin pale. He squeezes your thighs, roughly pulling off your jeans, leaving you half naked in your underwear. A growl rumbles in his throat; and your breath hitches as you stare at him. 

He looked so sinister. 

So evil. 

But you couldn’t look away. 

Not from him. 

Not when he curls his fingers through the band of your underwear, pulling it between your sex, adding pressure to your clit with the fabric, and your back arches. He laughs, tearing the thick fabric away from you painfully, and you wince. His cold hands massage your thighs, pushing your legs wider apart. 

“Look at that.” He says, his voice low, his finger strokes the wetness at your cunt; you were so wet. He brings his finger to his mouth, sucking it gently and groaning. “Fuck.” 

He scoots back on his stomach, roughly pulling you towards his face by your thighs. 

“Eddie…Eddie…wait…” You don’t finish. Instead, a loud moan escapes you as he sucks onto your clit, pulling it between his teeth, the sensation painful but oh so fucking…wonderful. “Oh god…”

You lean up on your elbows to watch him, and he spreads your legs wider, his tongue flicking out to that sensitive area. He fucking devoured you. He meets your eyes, a smile on his face as he licks you from your hole, taking your clit into his mouth again. Your head falls back against the rug on the floor, the heat from the fire causing you to sweat, your nipples peak through your shirt and it suddenly felt so much tighter on you. You awkwardly pull it off of you, and his hand automatically reaches up to tug your nipple and you gasp loudly. He continues his feast, his grip tightening on your thigh as his tongue moves faster. He groans again, pulling his face away with a grunt and he moves up you like a snake. He grips the side of your face, while the other hand dances with your clit. His mouth was so close to yours, and he grins. 

“I wanna taste you.” 

“You already are.” You breathe out. 

He smiles wide, shaking his head, his eyes wide with lust, his cold fingers moving to your lips. “No, sweetheart. There’s something else I want to taste.” 

Your heart rate picks up, and you stare at him confused. He grins wider, pressing his ear to your chest, and something clicks. The other night…he had bit you. Bit you hard enough to draw blood, but when you had told him to stop, he seemed scared that he had hurt you, his entire demeanor changed, but before you could do anything else he had disappeared. The words are locked in your throat, the questions, you don’t know why you couldn’t tell him no, you don’t know why you didn’t want to tell him no. 

“I won’t hurt you.” He meets your eyes, and you swear you see a flash of the real Eddie for a second. “Just a little taste…right…here.” His fingers move down to your inner thigh, gripping you in his hands, and you tremble underneath him. “Please, baby. I’m craving you.” 

Your chest heaves as you stare at him wide eyed. You still couldn’t form words, but you nod, your body shaking. His cold fingers rake down your skin, he runs his tongue a long your inner thigh and you whimper. He gently nips the skin and your back arches; you meet his eyes; and you almost scream. His discolored eyes turn a shade redder, his circles under his eyes darkening like webs and you see the points of his teeth. 

“What…ohhhhahhhh…”

You moan, feeling his teeth bite into your flesh, but…it didn’t hurt. It was a bizarre sensation. It stung a little, you felt your cunt become wetter as his tongue laps up around the bite. He moans, and a hot growl escapes him. 

Warmth from your blood drips down your thighs, and you swear you felt like you were floating. His tongue traces circles over your mound, before dragging his teeth along your clit. You didn’t feel the sharp points as he sucks the bundle in between his teeth. Your orgasm was approaching, the warmth from your blood, the coldness of his lips, was enough to send you spiraling into a puddle of pure ecstasy. 

“Oh…oh my…f-fuck…” Your body jerks, feeling the peak of your orgasm hit your belly and he coos against you, his licks getting faster as your back arches, and you explode with a scream into his mouth. His hands hold down your thighs tightly, you felt a little more of your blood spill from his fingers as he continues to suck you dry, you desperately try to close your legs around his head, but he keeps them open. The orgasm was too much, but it was so damn good, you kept screaming in pleasure until he finally pulls his face up with a gasp. His lips and chin were covered in your blood, your juices, and his saliva. He licks up your navel, you watch as a trail of blood snakes up your stomach and cover your breast as he sucks your sensitive nipple. You groan, pulling his face up to yours, crashing your lips against his. Not caring about the blood, not caring about anything really. You could taste the iron from his mouth, the sweetness of you. So intoxicating. He cups the side of your face, pushing his body against yours as his tongue fucks your mouth and you devour every second of it. He pulls away with a lick to your lips, and your chest heaves as you stare up at him. He grins, like the Cheshire Cat ready to fool you with a riddle. His cool finger goes to your chin, gently wiping away something from your chin. He pulls his finger away, and you tremble seeing a little pool of your blood on his finger, he licks it clean and chuckles. His eyes still a shade of red; full of lust and a hungriness you’ve never seen before. His lips move to your ear, his breath cold as he says lowly, “Now and forever, you belong to me.” 

He made you feel things you’ve never felt before. Even when he was…himself. You swore you could feel his love for you with every kiss of his lips, the way his cold hands touch your cheeks, but you’re probably just wishful thinking it. And at this point, you don’t believe it’s love, but hunger. You were trying to convince yourself that the sharp points of his incisors that bit into your flesh weren’t real, that you’re just imagining this whole thing. You didn’t know where he went when he disappeared. Before he left, he had taken a shower, and you heard him hum Moonlight Sonata. Something about the way he was humming it had sent shivers down your spine; it sounds so haunting, and it was almost like he knew it was a scaring you. His clothes were different when he came out, he was in all black. The contrast of his skin with the darkness made him look so much more beautiful you didn’t know how to look away. You felt an energetic pull towards him whenever you met his eyes; it brought you back to a time where you could just stare into those chocolate brown eyes and get lost in them. 

It scared you that he said that you were his, now and forever. 

But it also made you crave him and desperate for answers and what exactly he was. What exactly he meant by that. The following day at work was a drag, you spent most of the day organizing the records alphabetically. Your boss could tell something was off with you, but he didn’t ask questions, you knew he probably figured you were going through a weird grief thing and kept his distance. 

“Hey.” 

You gasp, almost toppling over, but Steve Harrington grabs you by your forearm. You held your hand to your chest as you gaze at him. 

“Whoa, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He says gently and you shake your head, trying your best to smile. 

“It’s fine. Just been jumpy lately.” You chuckle. “I’m surprised to see you. You’re either slaving away at Family Video or holed up in your house.” You didn’t mean for it come off the way it did, hurt flashes in his eyes and you sigh. “I’m sorry. Are you doing okay?” 

He shrugs, running his hands through his hair. “Hanging in there, I guess. I saw Dustin the other day; he said he saw you.” 

You nod, filing through the records to place Pat Benatar in her respected spot. “Yeah, I try to see him as much as I can.” 

You could feel his eyes burning into you. He used to be your best friend, someone that was like a brother to you, now he felt like a stranger. You hated that feeling, hated how alone you felt, and how he probably felt that way too. “Are you okay?” He asks you gently. 

You smirk, looking up at him. “No.” 

“I’m sorry…I know I should be there for you more…it’s just…there’s things…”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “What things?” 

He shakes his head, sighing. “Nothing.” 

You almost laugh. “I swear you and Dustin are notorious for keeping things from me. I didn’t find out you guys were protecting Eddie from the cops until a month after his death. I didn’t know he literally died in Dustin’s arms until Wayne told me about the necklace and even though he died in his arms, there was still no body…”

“The earthquake happened…Dustin was hurt…”

“Yeah. I get that.” You snap. “What I don’t get is why he or you or anyone else couldn’t have told me any of this. Why he didn’t come to me when the murders happened, why he went and got himself killed for a town that still hates him.” 

That Eddie is still dead. Your heart aches at the thought, because you had him back in some sense, but not all of him. He wasn’t whole. He was just an evil entity inside a body that looked like the man you were in love with. 

Steve sighs, gently taking your hand, you try to pull away, but he tightens his hold. “Listen to me. He didn’t want you involved. The way Jason was acting after the murders, he was afraid he was gonna find you and hurt you. He was willing to hurt 14 year olds. He couldn’t stomach the thought of something happening to you.” 

“He should’ve just told me.” Tears fill your eyes, and you rip your hand away. “I would’ve gladly given my life to save him. I still would.” 

Steve groans. “That’s why he didn’t tell you! Because he knew exactly what you would do.” 

“Well, too bad it wasn’t me. He’s dead. And I’m here, living, breathing, while he’s rotting somewhere.” 

Steve flinches, and he sighs. “He really loved you.” 

“If he loved me, he wouldn’t have risked his life for this shitty town.” 

You turn away from him but freeze when you overhear the reporter on the small television speakers:

…unfortunately there is not enough information to label this as an animal attack or an attack by a human. What we do know is that two bodies were found by Lover’s Lake, in brutal condition. Crime scene investigators are doing a thorough search of the area as well as getting updates from the medical examiner. No names have been released on the identities of the two bodies…

Steve was stiff behind you as he stares at the screen. You felt the hair raise on the back of your neck and bile rise in your throat. Was he capable of this? Was he capable of murder? 

Not back then, but now you had no idea what he was capable of. 

Steve seemed to be shaken up as well as you turn to look at him. “Steve?” 

“I…I have to go.” He turns away from you but stops at the door as you stare at his back, you watch his shoulders slump. “Give me a call in a few days. Please? I want to catch up.” 

You nod but you couldn’t shake the feeling something was scaring. “Steve…what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, it’s good. It’s all fucking good.” He leaves you standing there; you’re not entirely sure what just happened. What spooked him, why he seemed so cryptic. Either way, you planned on finding out, even if the information you got was from an undead version of Eddie. 

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Five: Unrequited Lover's Lake (Part One)

The Pariahs That Saved The World [Masterlist]

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, vecna's curse, horror flashback (violence)

[A/N: So I've decided to split this chapter in half mostly because I've disappeared lately. I am so sorry I haven't been updating as usual, I have had two rounds of completely different illness (both being types of flu lmao) and I am still recovering but in a much better place than I was! I'll keep everyone updated but as for now, here's the first half of a chapter I promised you guys agessss ago]

Unrequited Lover's Lake (Part One)

“Oh, boom!” Steve suddenly shouts out and Robin watches him push through some bushes, rolling her eyes. “Bada bing, bada boom. There she is, Henderson. Skull Rock.”

“Doesn’t make sense.” Dustin mutters as she and Nancy push through the leaves, looking up at the famous Skull Rock in all of its glory. Robin never really saw the appeal of this place.

“It’s just a dumb rock.” She murmurs out loud and Nancy hums in agreement, looking around.

The leaves rustle again and Robin watches as you and Max step through, sharing a look as she gestures to your face. You quickly turn, raising your hand, and when you turn back, you’re sending a grateful smile and walking away. Robin frowns at the interaction. Were you crying?

“Yeah, yeah. Even with it staring you in the face, you can’t admit it.” Steve boasts, placing his hands on his hips. “You just can’t admit that you’re wrong, you little butthead.”

“I concur.”

You all spin around to where someone had jumped down, a smirk on his face.

“You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.” Eddie announces and the boy goes running to him.

“Jesus, we thought you were a goner.”

“Yeah, me too, man. Me too.” Eddie sighs, patting him on the back. He catches someone else’s eye, pulling away and grinning. “As I live and breathe, Y/n is that you?”

“Couldn’t stay out of trouble just this once?” You chuckle as you share a hug, laughing when he tries to pick you up. “We went to the boathouse, what the hell happened?”

Nothing could really prepare you for what he had to say.

From Jason and his gang finding him, to watching poor Patrick suddenly float out of the water, you all stood around him in silence. You felt the sickening feeling creep up throughout your body until it was stuck in your throat, lurking as a reminder of what you’ve let yourself walk back into.

“Excuse me.” You say to Nancy, brushing against her arm so you could walk away from the group, breathing heavily.

You heard their continued conversations as you leant against a tree, a few steps into the thick expanse of trees, just in their view. Your skin was crawling with goosebumps, your spine shivering under the stress of the situation. You thought you were ready for this, that you could help them and save the people you loved in the process. But you didn’t manage it last time. How was this any different?

July 3rd, 1985

“Nancy…” You shake your head at her as you slowly start walking backwards down the hallway.

“Just stay in position, Y/n.” She hisses at you from behind and you trust her, you really do. But she was foolish to think you were the right person for this.

“I can’t.” You whisper back, tears falling down your face. The lights overhead start to flicker and you grip the metal pole in your hand tighter, praying he doesn’t walk around the corner, that it was all a misunderstanding.

“Just a little longer.” She promises, her soothing voice holding more worth to you than she knows. If only you had seen her face.

Two loud footsteps echo out from around the corner and you hold your breath, waiting for the man to show himself and force every fibre of your body not to run. But it wasn’t him. It was Tom Holloway, Heather’s father, and he was smiling at you.

“Ah, Y/n.” He clicks his neck, smirking, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You shake your head. It wasn’t meant to be him. He was supposed to be dead.

“It’s such a shame no one checked to see if they finished the job.” He laughs, pulling a scalpel you hadn’t even seen protruding from his neck, shrugging when no blood comes rushing out. “Someone should really go check on that poor boy, though. Such a wuss.”

“Nancy.” You try and whisper, but you hear nothing back, only the echo of her retreating footsteps as she rushes to find her boyfriend. You understood, you really did, but you’ve never felt so scared.

“Just the two of us, now.” He clears his throat, walking forward with intent and you hold out the pole. “That won’t do anything.”

“Stay back.” You cry out, noticing how dark the black veins were appearing now. Was Heather like this too? “I’m warning you.”

“Or what? You’ll trick me?” He laughs maniacally, stopping just short of you reaching the end of the hall, the corner just behind you. “Or should I say… us?”

Your eyes widen, but it’s too late. A sharp and searing pain digs into your shoulder and you scream, dropping your only weapon out of shock and jolting forward. You stumble, cradling your shoulder as you spin around on the floor, another pair of soulless eyes staring down at you. A sob leaves your lips.

“Dad?”

“Join us.”

Everything about that day still feels like a nightmare, to the point where you nearly convince yourself none of it was real. Not Tom tricking you, or your father becoming one of those monsters. Especially not Nancy leaving you behind. But that scar etched into your skin reminds you it was all very real. Your dad was dead, Nancy had left you to die, and you were lucky you ever escaped.

You take a deep breath, smoothing your hair away from your face. There wasn’t time for your breakdown right now. Max needed you. The sooner you figured it all out, the sooner this would be over.

Something snaps in the woods behind you and you assume someone has walked over, making you turn with a ready-made lie on your tongue. Except, no one was there.

You weren’t even in the woods anymore.

Robin rubbed her eyes as Steve and Dustin disputed over yet another absurd argument she didn’t fully wrap her head around, watching in amusement as it bounced back and forth between them. This time, Dustin was convinced his compass wasn’t wrong and for once, she was on Steve’s side. It made literally no sense.

“So you’re using faulty equipment.” Steve exasperated. “You’re still wrong!”

“Except it isn’t faulty.” Dustin says and Steve groans, throwing his hands up. “Lucas, do you remember what can affect a compass?”

Lucas ponders for a moment before his eyes widen. “An electromagnetic field.”

“Yep.” Dustin looks at everyone else expectedly and Robin furrows her brows.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve skipped that class.”

“In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power.” Dustin explains, motioning to the woods with his hand. “So either there’s some super big magnet around here, or…”

“There’s a gate.” Lucas concludes and Robin’s eyes widen.

“But we’re nowhere near the lab.” Nancy says and Dustin nods at her.

“But what if, somehow, there’s another gate? A gate that we don’t know about. It’d have to be smaller. Way less powerful.”

“Snack-size gate.” Robin offers and he clicks his finger at her.

“All I know if that something is causing this disturbance, and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is, because then we’d have a way to Vecna. And a shot at freeing Max from this curse.”

And with that Dustin turns around and starts walking, making Robin bat at Steve’s arm until he took notice too.

“Wha- Oh, where are you going? Hey, hey, hey-” He calls out for attention and Dustin unwillingly stops, looking back at him. “Eddie’s still a wanted man. We can’t just go for a hike in the woods.”

“This little steel capsule might be the key to saving both Max and Eddie. What say you, Eddie the Banished?” Dustin asks and Robin smirks, looking to you to share in her amusement. She blinks. You weren’t there.

She looks around again as Eddie responds, frowning like she might just be going blind.

“Uh, guys?” She tries, but her voice seems distant as she peers around the rock, through the trees, anywhere.

“So Mordor it is.” Eddie finally decides, shrugging when Steve looks at him weird.

“Guys!” She finally raises her voice and they all look at her inquisitively, noting her worried face. “Where’s Y/n?”

“She was just…” Nancy motions over to where you were just stood by the tree. The look on her face made Robin’s stomach plummet. “Y/n?”

Everyone starts looking around, shouting out for you, but they don’t hear any kind of response. Robin and Nancy venture further in, calling your name like you might just walk towards them completely fine. But Robin knew from the pit in her stomach that wasn’t the case. She just can’t believe she didn’t notice you had disappeared.

“Robin!” Nancy suddenly calls and Robin runs over as quickly as she can, careful not to trip up on protruding tree roots as she joins her.

The girl is knelt on the ground, holding a body and for a second her heart stops. It’s you.

And then you blink, looking a little dazed.

“I just saw her collapse.” Nancy says, her voice shaking. “Robin, look.”

She looks to where her friend is pointing and her breath hitches, slowly letting herself sink to the ground as you finally mutter a few words from lips beneath a crimson nosebleed.

“The gate.” You whisper out, trying to sit up and grabbing Robin’s arm when you felt weak. “I know… I know where the gate is.”

Robin meets Nancy’s fearful eye, her blood running cold. She hated to admit it, but all the signs were pointing to one thing and one thing only.

Vecna had cursed you, too.

taglist: @kryztalglear . @dejerw . @officerrrfriendly . @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean . @spacedoutdaydreamer . @endurexxsurvive . @em16cor . @gray-cheese . @chaosofmanyfandoms . @kitdjarin1 . @some-day--some-how @cultish-corner

[theoperativeif]

The Girl and the Kingpin Part 1

The Girl and the Kingpin Part 1

Content warning for references to abuse.

This story is a tie in to a side plot in “The Operative” set before the main series. It contains possibly disturbing content and references to abuse.

This story uses a young female Roads.

Jed

The food processors clattered as they sorted through the leftover scraps, long gone was their clean hum when Jed has first purchased them. He wondered if Maisie would mind if he tossed the damn thing out. He slapped the metal sides, it seemed to groan before quieting down a little.

“See it just needed some love darling.” Maisie’s voice sprung up from behind him.

Jed grumbled, getting to his feet and turning around. “It’s not that expensive to replace if we just-”

“No, we are saving up for another waiter.” She said, crossing her arms. She was dressed in an exotic red silk dress, ruby earrings seemed to flutter amongst the light. Despite both of them getting up there in years she still could quiet a room with her beauty.

Jed shrugged, smiling. “As you wish."

She walked by him, planting a light kiss on his cheek before walking into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder with a teasing smile. "Remember to toss out the trash!”

As if on queue Binny the bin bot rolled over to him, chirping happily as it slowly rolled, weighed down after collecting from the various receptacles. Jed gently patted it on its tiny head before gesturing for it to follow him, for all the fancy things they gave robots they couldn’t teach this one to open its own damned doors.

He passed by Griff the bouncer who chuckled to himself while enjoying a drink alone at the bar.

Unlocking and opening the double doors Jed peaked his head out, looking down one way of the back alley and then the other way. All clear.

Stepping out he watched as the bot slowly rolled to the giant trash bin, opening the top before extending itself nearly ten feet before overturning and slowly dumping out the multitude of bags stored inside. It froze, its tiny head swiveling to look inside the bin.

“What’s up Binny?” Jed asked, raising an eyebrow. “Another addict sleeping in my bin?"

Binny slowly moved, dumping the trash out beside the bin before gesturing up at the bin with tiny outstretched arms.

Jed slowly walked up, peeking inside he froze. Inside, covered in various pieces of trash was a small form. A child, staring up at him with hauntingly empty silver eyes.

"It’s okay,” Jed started, slowly reaching down and pulling some of the trash away, that when he saw the blood, “I won’t hurt you.”

Maisie and Griff’s eyes widened as Jed walked through the doorway, carrying the girl in his arms, she was a skinny thing, and her eyes darted around with fear.

“She was in the bin, she’s hurt.”

“Quick, get her to room two.’ Maisie said, quickly leading the way while Griff moved behind the bar, grabbing up small morsels of food and a bottle of vodka.

They brought her into room two, which was one of the more fancy suites for their ladies of the night, happily today it was empty and just cleaned. Setting the girl down on a large towel his wife had placed atop the bed Jed stepped back, allowing Maisie to look her over. The girl didn’t protest,  staring past Maisie and towards the door.

Griff slowly made his way in, a pack of crackers and a bottle of water in his hands, the vodka bottle snuggly fit into his pocket. He silently offered the water and crackers to the girl who shrunk back, shaking her head.

"Sip it in front of her Griff,” Maisie said impatiently glaring over at the bouncer, peeling back some of the girls clothes with a sickening sound, revealing cuts and bite marks.

Griff sipped the water before offering it again, the girl reached out and grabbed it, taking greedy gulps before biting into a cracker.

“We will take her to the hospital up the street, they should have some contacts with one of the local orphanages to take her in.”

The girl’s eyes widened as she shook her head, shrinking back into the bed as if some force would come and take her.

Maisie began wiping the girl off with a sponge, she wiped her neck and upper chest, brown and red blood coming off in large swaths. Maisie froze, her body going tense before standing up, and taking a step back.

“Jed, look…” She trailed off, pointing at the deep scars on her chest.

Three circles intertwining were carved into flesh, with a single deeper X laid out next to them. They all knew what it meant, this girl shouldn’t even be alive, he would never leave one alive. Maisie tense, fists clenching as she turned.

“We can’t take her anywhere, the Heartbreaker’s have ears everywhere, she will stay here for now.” Maisie said, gesturing to Griff. “Griff grab your guns and lock the doors."

"Oh fuck.” Griff said, quickly turning and leaving the room.

Jed clenched his fist, he knew what it meant, she was personally marked by the monster that held the entire district in his hands.

Avarice, the hedonist kingpin, and he would come for his property.

Griff Part 2

It had been three weeks since the girl arrived. No one came after her, no whispers of Heartbreaker agents from his contacts or even a sign that something, anything, was wrong. Just complete silence. 

Until today.

Griff shook his head as he pulled his modified J13 hoverbike up in front of the Nightingale lounge. It was empty, save for Maisie staring out the upstairs window at him. He waved, offering a smile, knowing she would never return the courtesy, the bitch. She always hated him, considered him the dumb muscle, a glorified bouncer and a bad influence on her dear husband. 

Griff regarded the empty lounge so strange at this time of day. He didn't see any sign of Jed and his cigar smoke anywhere. Maybe they were all upstairs. He thought, walking over to the bar and setting down his hat, before pulling out his pistol and setting it carefully behind the bar, away from view. He began cleaning it, wondering if he would need it in the coming weeks.

The door to the kitchen opened, and as he turned, Jed's bin bot greeted him, Binny as Jed always called him, slowly moving through, escorted by the young girl. 

Baggy clothes hung off her, obviously several sizes too big, probably from one of the working girls.

She looked over at him, silver eyes a little brighter than before, seeming to glint with the light. He didn't like the way she looked at him, it was a gaze someone her age should never have. 

"Hello." She said, bowing slightly, her voice dragging out with unnaturalness. She moved with a skittishness between the rooms, several minutes later walking out, an enormous bag of trash dragging on the ground behind her. Binny the bot took it from there. 

She eyed him again, slowly approaching as he wiped his pistol off with a cloth.

He set it down, watching as she reached for it with no hesitation. Without a thought, he reached out, smacking her hand away, followed with a patronizing glare. "That's not a toy, kid, you could kill someone."

"Good." The child shot back, eyes flashing with a wave of anger that quickly vanished.

"The people that did that to you?" Griff asked, knowing the answer, but seeing the silent nod in response made him sad, "you know it won't make it better?"

She didn't respond, looking away, eyes watering. Griff had seen several like her before. Though the ones he had met didn't live long. He wanted to reach out and hug the poor kid.

The door opened, drawing his attention to two figures walking into the lounge, their red robes signifying their organization for all to see. The Heartbreaker Agency, the Emperor's own secret police. He looked back to where the girl was, she was gone. Good. 

Griff shifted slightly, picking up a glass and wiping it, eyes scanning the two men. 

One was tall and thin, his uniform hanging off of him in an unsettling manner, his companion was a short man, tan skin and jittery movements, with a noticeable limp. The tall man removed his military cap, gray and black hair intertwined in a strange color combination atop his head. 

Skunkhead and Jitters. Griff named them silently, flashing them a friendly smile as he set the glass down. "We are closed sadly, but can I offer my dear friends a drink?" He slowly pushed two shot glasses forward, selecting a fine whiskey and pouring a shot for both.

They shared a grin, sitting quickly and gulping the shots like a pair of drunks. 

"You know why we are here," the shorter man said, tapping his fingers on the countertop, "the boss of the area wants what's his returned, and he is offering all sorts of rewards for it."

"And why does that bring you two outstanding gentlemen to my bar?" Griff said, maintaining a pleasant smile as his eyes traced jugulars and weak points in the two men's bodies.

"Someone caught wind, kind of conspicuous when a bloody girl gets let into a bar isn't it?" He said, grinning like he was proud he could pronounce conspicuous, let alone spell it. "And we are the guys that collect lost property."

"And do you know what he used to have me do?" Griff leaned forward, his right hand laying on the hidden pistol, the man who was talking let out a short laugh and leaned towards him, his hand on the counter.

"Heh, what?"

"He would have me kill little shits like yourselves," Griff said, his facade melting as he drew a knife with his left hand and slammed it down into the counter, impaling the man through the wrist.

The man screamed, his partner backing up and going for his weapon, but Griff had already raised his pistol and painted the post behind him with gray matter.

A second shot silenced the screaming man, his body slumping to the floor as Griff circled the bar, stepping out over their bodies. Blood pumped out from their bodies in pulses before growing weaker. Griff's boots squeaked quietly as he turned and admired his work, a little slow but not inadequate.

The door crashing open made Griff dive back behind the bar as a bullet grazed his shoulder. He tumbled down; glass rained on top of him as bullets chewed up the bar, throwing splinters of wood into the air. 

Damnit, I should of considered there was a third man. Griff cursed himself silently through gritted teeth as he got up to a crouch behind the bar, this would be a close drawdown. 

Moving to a new place behind the bar Griff took a breath peaking above the protection of the bar, he found the assailant, raising his gun to aim, the man did the same, it moved in slow motion.

I've got him. Griff thought with a grin as he began to squeeze the trigger.

They both fired, another glass behind Griff crashing as the man was thrown back from the shot to the head. Taking a breath, he reached over, feeling the warmth running down his neck. The bullet had taken part of his ear off, a breadth away from his face. Too close. Griff thought, frowning at how the gunman had missed. We should have shot each other.

Walking out to the man's body, he bent down, examining his shot, perfectly placed at the tip of the bridge of the nose. Then his eyes roamed down to the man's leg, a knife sticking out of it, blood covering the object.

He looked over to the girl huddled under one of the tables next to him, silver eyes boring back into him. Griff shuddered, a shiver running up his spine as he reached over, pried the knife out, and flipped it over, handing it handle first at her.

"You might survive us yet kid."

[https-furina]

✎ baubles & gratitude wishes. ft. diluc x gn!reader content. festive fluff! labelled gn!reader but if you find otherwise please let me know so i can adjust! tw for kisses, sickening sweet stuff with diluc (hehe) assuming that christmas lights exist in canon au... w.c. 1.2k words

notes. this man will not leave me alone ! so when i spun n got him i was like damn, he rlly isn't letting me drop him.. maybe 'm still a diluc girlie at heart <33 this is my first entry for ecrin’s christmas event! taglist - always open, send an ask! @ryuryuryuyurboat @soleillunne @rainswept

at the heart of the winery stands a manor, decorated with dark wood beams and emitting the warmest orange glow into the chill of the night through its many glass windows. it is the peak of winter in teyvat and whilst every nation has a different winter, mondstadt in particular suffers from the dropping cold temperatures and lingering frost that kisses every surface it touches. after years of living in mondstadt with your beloved husband at his late father's winery, you'd grown accustomed to the weather in mondstadt - and most especially how it changes in the blink of an eye.

you sit on one of the plush velvet couches that litter the winery's manor, all deep red in colour to match the ragnvindr family's oddly specific red theme - not that you minded it. it was one of the many things alongside the weather that you had grown accustomed to. another one of those things was your husband's quiet, stoic attitude.

"if you keep staring at the fire like that, you'll hurt your eyes, love," his deep voice resonates from behind the couch, calloused hands placing themselves upon your shoulders, "what's on your mind?"

the sentiment of his question draws a small smile to your face, shaking your head in reassurance as you look up at the redhead, his hair tied neatly back in a ponytail. he quirks a brow, not buying it but he accepts it anyway, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“have you ever decorated the manor?” you ask with a hum, watching his brows furrow in confusion - of course he has, he thinks as he take a moment to glance around the living area he’s grown so used to, “for christmas, luc.”

ah. that changes his response quite quickly. diluc scowls for a moment before shaking his head, turning his ruby gaze back to you, the one he treasures so much. diluc isn’t stupid and quite frankly, he knows where this conversation is going. a sigh escapes his parted lips before a crack of a smile graces his pale face, framed so delicately by the loose strands of red hair he hasn’t tied back.

“i’ll ask adelinde to see if my father’s decorations are still in the attic.” he sounds reluctant but he drinks in the way that your face lights up, a sparkle glittering in your eyes at the prospect of decorating the manor with the one you love and he knows he can’t deny you now - not only for your sake but his own. diluc knows very well that you have him wrapped around your finger when every time you pout or give him those sorrowful eyes, he can’t help but feel his already fragile heart break.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

there’s a few crates littering the living room floor, filled with the late crepus’ decorations. the lids are covered in dust, save for the fingerprints left by diluc’s gloved hands from when he took the crates from adelinde, scolding her for attempting to do all the heavy lifting alone.

you sit amongst them, unaware of diluc's vermillion eyes that seemed to be trained on your childish delight as you sift through endless decorations - you never had the joy of meeting crepus but from the sheer amount of his decorations diluc had shoved into the attic in an attempt to bury old memories, you could gather that he was a brilliant family man. diluc notes that the glitter in your eyes never fades for even a second and for a moment, he ponders the times when he was once this excited to see these crates. it's melancholic, cracking a smile to his stoic face.

after many minutes going over the layout of the manor's ground floor space, you decided quite boldly that the tree should sit in the entry before the front door. diluc tries to hide his amusement at how serious you're taking decorating the manor but you can see it peak through when you glance at your husband only to see a sliver of a smirk on his face.

"i didn't expect you to like christmas this much," diluc mumbles as he finishes wrapping lights around the bushy evergreen spruce tree - upon your request, - thankful for his gloves when the needles poke at him as he works meticulously, "let alone decorating…"

"life is too short to not find the joys in seemingly mediocre tasks," you grin, two golden, glittering baubles in your hands as you begin to hang them on the branches. diluc watches, noticing that the heavier - and much larger - baubles are placed on the lower branches. after his observation, he copies, "besides, it's much more fun to see the tree whenever you come home and realise that your house is your home, your four walls and warmth."

diluc wants to cluck his tongue, sending a glance in your direction as the warm christmas lights decorating the tree illuminate your face but he can't bring himself to vocally retort his thoughts. you are his four walls, his home and hearth; the warmth he craves after long days of paperwork and tedious tasks or cold nights being mondstadt's mysterious unidentified hero. you are the one he comes home to and realises these things. he makes a soft noise in response to your words, continuing to hang baubles and the like on bushy branches.

he'll occasionally glance back at you. he thinks you look absolutely gorgeous, radiating this exciting energy that glows with the tree as it comes to life. diluc takes these moments to gaze over you and drink in every last detail as if you'll disappear from his grasp after you both return to your shared chambers later that night, sliding into silk sheets and pressing your bodies together for warmth in the chill of mondstadt's winter nights. he drinks it all in as if he'll never see the shape of your nose again or the twinkle of your eyes. he traces the outline of your lips and counts any freckles you may have.

you're not silly, you caught diluc staring ages ago but now there's a glitter in his own ruby eyes that matches yours. two matching flames that keep each other ablaze. the next time you catch him staring, you're quick to shuffle closer to him, pressing against his chest as you rest your head on his broad shoulders. diluc tenses as he always does, his busy hands hanging the decorations they'd been holding before his arms wrap around you tightly. he presses his lips to your hair, nestling his nose in the familiar scent of the shampoo you always specifically request when adelinde goes shopping for necessities.

"merry christmas, luc." you mumble into the fur trim of his coat, your eyelashes fluttering shut in content when you bask in the scent of smouldering ashes from his pyro vision, the wine that he despises to drink and rain. he's your home.

"merry christmas, love." diluc responds softly after a few moments of silence, his eyes raising to admire the handy work of you both as he takes in the tinsel decorating shelves, placed neatly above the fireplace hearth and the lively golden tree at the centre of it all. it has been far too long since he's seen his manor decorated in such ways, he thinks with an ounce of a smile at the nostalgia you've ignited in his heart. you're his home too.

© https-furina 2023.

[mystar-girl57]

Heyo lovelies, take however long you want with this one, ik you're busy with everything but something just popped in my head and it's quite cute, how about Jake wants to impress the reader and wants to make up for the time he spent hating on her, so calls neteyam or lo'ak and asks them what our favourite dish is, all three of them are horrible at it but they still do it to make our day special, when the reader comes home after a long day with Ronal , she is suprised so see them all huddled up and is suspicious but then they bring out the creation, them just staring into her soul while she ate it, it wasn't the best but eats it anyways because they made it for her 🥹🥹😭😭❤️❤️❤️ okay this has me melting 🫠 hope you're doing well 💖

A/n: I love all these requests😭

Jake had a problem. Anyone could see it if they happened to walk into the Sully family’s Marui and saw him sitting hunched over trying to messily scale a fish. Did you even like this fish? Jake wondered as he threw the poorly done fish (which looked like it had been mauled rather than cleaned) into the wicker basket beside him.

Today was the one year anniversary of the two of you being properly mated before Ewya. One year since you had left your home in the forest, one year since fighting Quaritch, one year since losing your son. Jake was well aware that one year did not make up for the several years of damage he had inflicted on you but he was certainly trying his best.

Jake’s ears flicked up hearing footsteps come padding into the marui and he instantly turned around. To his relief it was Lo’ak instead of you and he looked just as surprised seeing his Dad turn to quick. Lo’ak’s eyes read the room, drifting across the scales scattered around Jake’s knees and landed on the basket of barely edible fish. “Y’know Mom said cleaning the fish was strictly her job right?” Lo’ak rhetorically asked. Of course his Dad knew, after what happened the night you and Ronal went out for the evening and Jake had tried to prepare fish, he had been banned from the kitchen for life.

Jake huffed shaking his head and turned back around to the basket. “I am well aware of that.” He stood up, holding the basket and went over near the makeshift counter he had put together for you to work, versus doing it outside (especially when it was raining). “I just-” Jake cut himself off pinching his bridge of his nose, his hand on his hip. “It’s been a year son.” He looked to Lo’ak, “And I want this to be special for your mom. After everything, its the least I can try to do.”

Lo’ak didn’t respond right away trying to decide what to do. But in the end he nodded some and made his way to the counter. “I think I know how to make this meal that Ronal makes for us sometimes. Tsireya explained it, Mom really likes it.” Jake looked down at Lo’ak in surprise, was he offering to help? They hadn’t done something father - son related since they left the forest.

“But. We’re gonna need to get new fish. Not even Lepay will want these.” Lo’ak deadpanned, dangling the barely meated fish in the air before its tail broke and it fell to the ground at their feet with a sickening ‘splat’

Eclipse had fallen by the time you had made it back home. You and Ronal had such a long day; between her giving you swimming and breathing lessons to diving for ingredients to restock on medicine, then Tsireya, Kiri, and Tuk came asking if they could have a sleepover and it was Tuk’s first one so you were already worrying about that. To say you were tired was an understatement. All you wanted right now was to nibble on some dinner, convince Lo’ak to go out with Aonung and Rotxo and have the evening to just you and Jake.

When you walked in you noticed Jake and Lo’ak standing near the kitchen with their backs to you. They spoke in quick but hushed tones making you raised a brow in suspicion. “Ahem.” You cleared your throat and they instantly turned around, their eyes wide as if they had just been caught red handed.

“You’re back!” Jake tried to enthusiastically say while not looking nervous. He stepped forward to you and Lo’ak moved over to cover up whatever it was that they were hiding. He came over to you and you shared a quick but sweet kiss. “Now,” you smiled looking up at him with a knowing look. “what did you and Lo’ak get into.” Staring down at you Jake could see it in your eyes, the way you smirked that he was hiding something.

He took a deep breath moving his hands up and down your biceps (a nervous habit he had developed.) “Well, today has been one year.” He began, “And when I was with the Sky People we have a tradition called anniversaries.” He tried to explain, using the English term since he didn’t know the na’vi. “It’s on different days for different peoples and couples and its to celebrate something special.” You nodded following along then looking back at him, moving your hands to his so he could squeeze them. “And what are we celebrating tonight?”

Jake bit his inner lip, amazed at how difficult it was for him to form the words to say to you. He felt like he was back in highschool trying to charm that cute redhead cheerleader that was in his trig class. Jake never was successful in asking her out.

“We are celebrating us.” He replied once he found the words, “Sorta like a wedding anniversary. Tonight it’s been a year since we made things official, survived everything with the sky people so I figured you deserved something special.” On cue Lo’ak turned back to the counter and picked up a tray with a pile of food adorning it. Carefully he came over to the dining area and set it down, surprisingly not dropping anything.

When you got closer and sat down beside Jake you realized they had replicated Ronal’s spicy soup and greenery noodles. At first glance it looked delicious, but the real test was to see how it tasted.

Jake and Lo’ak watched you expectantly as you took the first bite. It was different to say the least. The spices were a bit strong in the broth and the noodles were a bit bland but all and all it was edible. “It tastes wonderful.” You smiled. The father and son’s bodies visibly relaxed as they let out a chorus of “yes”s and did what Lo’ak called “bro’s celebration.” You couldn’t help but kindly roll your eyes at their antics. It was good to see them bonding. Lo’ak then came over and gave you a quick hug. “Have a good night mama.” He whispered before getting some of his stuff and jogging out the door.

You looked over at Jake who was now sat down. “Had something to Aonung.” He shrugged then took a bite of his soup. His ears went back at the taste. “Oh god.” He winced making you burst out laughing. “Why didn’t you say it was too strong.” Jake laughed painfully, downing his cup of water. “Because I did not want to hurt you and Lo’ak.” You replied honestly, taking another bite trying to not make a face. “Agh, no babe don’t eat that it’s awful.” Jake chuckled gently setting the bowl down in front of you.

After you had made an edible dinner for the two of you, you both ate then cleaned up feeling too exhausted to do anything else. Climbing in bed, Jake opened up the covers up for you to climb in rather than him just getting in bed and rolling over like he use to.

“That was really sweet of you to do Ma’Jake.” You whispered into his shoulder hugging him. “It’s the least I could do, after everything.” There was a hint of guilt in Jake’s tone and you squeezed him a bit.

You fell into a comfortable silenence, the waves crashing outside on the beach starting to lull you sleep.

“At least I didn’t try to serve that fish I tried to make.”

“You what.”

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫-𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝟓𝟕 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬

[chocolatecake47]

just a completely random rayllum drabble; i dont fully know what the context is tbh

That July 9th, the beat of your heart, it jumps through your shirt, I can still feel your arms ~

They stand in front of each other, shocked and frozen by the metaphorical ice. The air around them is frigid, cold enough to pierce their skin and seep into their bones. 

“I came back.” He whispers and she stares achingly at the unfamiliar black scars that line half his face. She instinctively reaches for her bracelet, the soft phoenix feathers a reminder of how soft his fingers had been on her skin the day he tied it there, and his eyes flash between her wrist and her face. The difference between the two is almost sickening, one empty and black and lifeless, as if there is no soul behind them, and the other vibrant and kind and as beautiful of a green as she remembers them. 

“Callum.” Rayla had told herself she would be strong, that she wouldn’t fall apart the second she saw him, but her voice hitches instantly. 

He takes a tentative step toward her but as much as it is Callum, the person she loves, the rough purplish gray lines and ashy complexion jump out at her, causing her to flinch back.

He stops, arms twitching like he was planing to reach for her but is now forcing himself not too. 

Rayla curses herself and inhales sharply. “Callum, you,” her eyes fill with tears and she ducks her head. “I don’t want to believe it.”

“I’m sorry Rayla. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to do this, but I had no choice. Please understand, he would have taken you.” Callum’s voice breaks, and tears spill onto his mismatched cheeks. 

She barely hears what he says, her own thoughts too cluttered, panicked yet relieved by the mere fact he is even alive. “I didn’t know if -“ Her voice cracks too but she presses forward anyway, breath shuddering in her chest, “if I would ever see you again.”

Tears begin streaming down her cheeks when he opens his mouth to talk again. “I tried not to do dark magic. I really did but then I imagined having to do this without you, having to live without you and -” His expression crumples mid-sentence and a harsh sob, one filled with both regret and love, escapes him, and that is the last straw before Rayla is running, the flickering moonlight and sound of her feet crunching the ice on the ground barely present, as she rushes into his embrace. 

His wings wrap around her, lightly at first as he hesitates, but then stronger, both of them quietly crying. 

She leans back after a few moments, hands circling up to cup his face, fingers caressing the carved marks and swiping over the tears glistening there. “I love you.”

She finally kisses him, soft and frantic at the same time as all the weeks of terror and longing and fear that she would never be with him again, never be able to do this again, never be able to curl her fingers in his hair and feel his arms around her and feel his heart beating against hers in the same practiced rhythm its always been, bursting forth. 

“I don’t care what you had to do, what he made you do. You’re back and that’s all that matters.” She rasps against him, continuing to keep his face there right in front of hers and swallows down more tears. “I love you.”

“I love you too Rayla.” His wings disappear and he wraps his arms desperately around her back, kissing her again before either of them can sob.

Her heart surges in her chest, one hand flying down to press against his heartbeat, feeling it perfectly under her palm, making sure it’s there. 

She didn’t care about his face. All she cared about was his heart.