#clouds looking like smoke signals as I arrive home

[aideshou]

Lately 👼 🚲 🌟

[unchartedmusings]

Trauma dump

So when I was in elementary school we were hit by the back to back hurricanes of 2004. I don’t know what happened to me, but my brain was rewired that year. I developed a crippling life altering fear of rain and storms. Living in Florida which was at some point described as the lightning capital of the world only added fuel to stoke the growing fires of my phobia. A single dark cloud in the sky would send me in to a fit of panic. That small little rain cloud that everyone ignored, was a signal of the end of the world.

During the hurricanes I remember sitting in a closet with my mom, listening to a groaning noise that felt like the world itself was opening up to swallow our home. I later found out it was the tree facing the closest window to the closet we were cowering in, completely uprooting and flying over to block the neighbors front door. I remember seeing tornadoes appear out of thin air and us having to run indoors to safety as we thought the storm was over but forgot about the symptoms that come with hurricanes. I remember my dad just barely arriving home from work when the wind started picking up and it started to rain from the greening sky. I remember my mom pulling out a folded Virgin Mary and fairthfully praying for our safety.

You’d think it would have stopped once the hurricane passed. But no, I remember thinking it was over. Stepping into my backyard with my dog to let her out for a moment. It was mere seconds, the wind picked up, the sky opened up and down shot a whirling spike of smoke like air. Tornadoes. My father yelled for me and the dog and corralled us indoors. Back into the closet while the world outside fell to pieces and everything I loved and knew would be ripped from me at any moment.

My life spiraled after those memories. I went from straight A’s to moving school as my last priority. How could I focus on learning when every afternoon at 3 there was a possibility of another life altering event. Notes home came in floods, calls home came in even larger amounts. Anytime it rained my body felt it physically impossible to endure the event no matter how small anywhere but home. The only place I felt any inkling of safety was in my room, lights off, radio blaring to drown out any potential catastrophes, and a pillow smashed over my ears to add to my makeshift soundproofing system. Sometimes even those measures weren’t enough so I’d nervously hum and rock myself to try to soothe the terror that insisted in consuming me and my life.

It was really hard. Some people worried, some people laughed, but no one knew how to fix or handle it. I was called nicknames, anytime thunder struck or the clouds rolled in so did the waves of stares waiting for my regularly scheduled panic attack. I didn’t care in those moments about what others thought. In my mind my life was seriously at stake, we were all in danger and some snide looks or comments were minuscule where human life was concerned. But no one else was concerned, just me no matter how many times I “survived” these episodic nightmares. I missed out on events, friendships, relationships, and tons of school. I used any illness I could think of to get sent home so I could panic in the comfort of my home. Headaches, stomach aches, chest pains, and I learned that forcing your finger down your throat to vomit was a quick and effective solution. I spent so much time in the nurses office and in the guidance counselors office on days my parents couldn’t or just flat out wouldn’t come to get me. There was no sense keeping me in class, I couldn’t listen or learn as my eyes constantly wandered to any sliver of outside I could see to determine T- minus how ever many minutes until destruction.

Not everyone was cruel. Some people felt bad for me and showed me kindness when they realized my dramatics were involuntary. My closest childhood friends would find ways to pass me notes from other classrooms, they would text me, they would find me at lunch even if we were in the middle of some adolescent squabble to check in with me and assure me we were ok. Some of my family mocked me. They called me storm girl, helmet girl, and mercilessly mocked this phase of life that was making me ill inside and out.

According to science you establish your reality through reassurance growing up. By looking to your family to validate or mirror the things you thought or felt. That’s how you build security. With two immigrant parents the conversation on feelings wasn’t progressive through any fault of their own. How can you solve what you’ve never encountered? How can you comfort with actions or words you have never experienced? The combination of that and my mother’s own persisting phobias of the storms only made me feel more validated to live in fear. Like some fucked up form of folie a deux we both believed this delusion that the 4pm and a gray sky was the trumpets of the apocalypse. As the rain came down on our home every afternoon I said my final goodbyes to my family and told them I loved them. The danger was so real.

I had many therapists, guidance counselors, teachers, neighbors, friends, make very serious efforts to snap me back. Some people tried exposure, others tried distraction, religion, take your pick. I was lucky to have been supported by many different people. And yet it wasnt professional help or thoughtful support that made it stop. Just like it clicked in. It clicked out one day. Years later, in a pizza place with friends a tornado warning scrolled across the tv screen. The color drained from face in usual fashion. As the world dimmed and slowed and the conversations muddled together with my anxious thoughts I could hear bits and pieces of my friends conversations. They were joking. Not about me. About death. They were all laughing hysterically and howling that our end would be at pizza place in the loop. The world stopped dimming. I felt myself coming back to reality and felt the corners of my mouth turning. Have I finally lost it? Am I laughing? I don’t care. If I’ve lost it, it felt damn good to have lost it. Relief, joy, normalcy, all was flowing through me for the first time in years.

There I sat, miles away from the comfort of my bed, deafening music, and literal security blankets. Laughing. Laughing at the possibility of dying flung like debris in the aftermath of a storm. I suppose there’s a fine line between sanity and insanity and I was currently doing an Irish jig all over these lines. Looking back that moment feels like I sat there changing my Grecian tragedy mask for my comedy one. I suppose life can be, and is often a very funny thing and in true cliche form sometimes you must laugh to keep from crying.

After that day, I got better. Despite my mother unfortunately still struggling with many parts of that phobia to this day. It was frustrating and confusing to see myself heal while she still struggled. Honestly, it’s really heartbreaking. Why should I get better and she still suffer? She deserve joy too. She deserves to know that she is safe. Don’t we all deserve that as a minimum?

These days, I find happiness in the rain and comfort and even sleepiness in between claps of thunder. I will go out and play in rain and won’t come back in until I’m soaking wet. I even consider using a sick day or two to enjoy a quick affair with a low pressure system induced pair of rainy days. Those days where it wakes up grey and rain already feed my soul. It’s like the rain and I are making up for lost time. That thought brings me comfort when I mourn all of the years I spent sitting in fear, waiting for my impending doom to befall me.

I let that small child come out to play in the rain she needed to play in all those years ago. I want her to feel happy in the rain as long as she can.

[johnny-kobayakawa-television2015]

Thomas and Friends: Sodor Online Journeys (Story 20): The Flying Kipper

Lots of Ships use the Harbour at the Big Station by the sea. There are Passenger Ships, Cargo Ships, and Fishing Boats also come here. They unload their fish on the quay. Some of them goes to Shops in the town, and some goes into a special train to other places far away. This is the train that railwaymen call "The Flying Kipper".

One winter evening, Henry's Driver said "We'll be out early tomorrow. We've got to take the Flying Kipper. Don't tell Gordon," he whispered, "but I think if we pull the Kipper nicely, the Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt will let us pull the Express. The Special Coal they gave you was working well." "Hurrah!/Hooray!" cried Henry. "That will be lovely."

Henry was ready at Five O'Clock. There was snow and frost. Men hustled and shouted, loading up the vans with crates full of fish. The last door banged, the Guard shoned his green lamp, and the Flying Kipper was ready to go. "Come on! Come on! Don't be silly! Don't be silly!" puffed Henry to the Vans/Freight Cars. The Vans/Freight Cars shuddered and groaned. "Trock trick, Trock trick, alright, alright."

"That is better. That is better." puffed Henry. Clouds of smoke and steam poured from his funnel into the cold air, and the fire's light shone brightly. "Hurry, Hurry, Hurry!" panted Henry. They were going well. The light grew better, and the signal showed green as they passed. Then, the yellow signal appeared ahead. His Driver was about to stop, but the home signal was down. "All clear, Henry. Away we go." They didn't realize that the points/switches on the Main Line to a siding were frozen, and at that signal should've been set at danger, a fall of snow forced it down.

A goods/freight train was waiting in a siding to let the Flying Kipper pass while the Driver and Fireman are having cocoa in the Break Van/Caboose. "The Kipper is due." said the Guard/Conductor. "Who cares?" said the Fireman. "This is good cocoa." The Driver got up. "Come on, Fireman. Back to our Engine." "Hey!" the Fireman grumbled. "I haven't finished my Cocoa yet!" But they were already too late.

Henry's Driver and Fireman jumped clear before the crash, but Henry lay dazed and surprised. The Fat Controller/Sir Topham Hatt came to see him. "The Signal was down, Sir." said Henry nervously. "Cheer up, Henry. It wasn't your fault. Ice and snow cause the accident. I'm sending you to Crewe, which is a fine place for sick engines. They'll give you a new shape, and a larger firebox, so that you can feel like a different engine, and won't need special coal anymore. Won't that be nice?" "Yes, Sir." said Henry doubtfully.

Henry liked being at Crewe, but was glad to come home. A crowd of people awaited to see him arrived in his new shape. He looked so splendid and strong that they gave him three cheers. "Peep! Peep!" whistled Henry. "Thank you very much!" I'm sorry to say that a lot of little boys are often late for school, because they wait to see Henry go by. They often see him pulling the Express. He does it so well that Gordon is jealous, but that's another story.

Story End

[grantgoddard]

Attempted murder on the Waterloo express? : 1971 : Bagshot railway station

 Kapow! There was an explosion. Before I even grasped what had just happened, I could see I was covered with shards of glass. What was that noise? The train window I was sat next to had suddenly vanished and was in pieces on me and the seat. Luckily, I had not been looking towards the window at the time, otherwise my face would have been injured. Luckily, because it was winter, I was wearing an army surplus hat with furry earflaps that had protected my head and ears. Luckily, I was wearing a coat over my school blazer, gloves and long trousers that had shielded me, these winter woollies necessary because trains’ heating systems rarely functioned adequately.

I caught the ten-past-eight number 28 train every day for seven years from Camberley station to my school half-an-hour away in Egham. It was part of a commuter route propelling workers on the one-hour journey into London’s busy Waterloo terminus. Travelling to school this way felt like stepping into Narnia through the wardrobe door of our suburban British Rail station. Journeys were populated by strange characters not present in my normal day-to-day homelife. The station platform was awash with bowler-hatted, suited gentlemen carrying leather briefcases and rolled-up umbrellas. Women were a rare sight. Humourless station staff in uniforms shouted announcements about delays in the tone of army drill sergeants. Bumptious Terry-Thomas ticket inspectors walked through train carriages, looking down their noses at our thick green cardboard season tickets as if we were interlopers on their Orient Express.

At least the trains on our line were relatively modern electric rolling stock. As a small child, I recall standing at the top of the open footbridge over Camberley station, looking down at the signal box beside the level crossing and feeling clouds of smoke envelope me from a steam train passing underneath. Or was that a ‘Railway Children’-inspired false memory, acquired from reminiscences by my grandfather who had worked unloading timber for local building firm ‘Dolton, Bournes & Dolton’ in the goods yard beside the station? He had been made redundant in the early 1960’s for the yard to be replaced by a new ring road and Camberley ‘bus station’, in reality no more than a line of bus stops and tiny shelters without a waiting room. After my afternoon arrival in Camberley by train to await the hourly 39B (40 minutes past every hour) or two-hourly 34A bus (15 minutes past even hours) for the final two-mile journey home, I would have to walk over to the railway station lobby and sit opposite the ticket window to keep warm and dry.

My schoolfriends and I were the Pevensie children of Camberley, rendezvousing every morning at the very rear of the station’s eastbound platform that could accommodate only four carriages, despite our train normally being eight. When the train driver pulled up close to the signal at the top of the platform, we could just about clamber up to open the first door of the fifth carriage from the platform’s sloping end. Those rear four carriages became our playground because, until the train reached Ascot station’s longer platform, we had that section entirely to ourselves. No other passengers, no train staff. We could be as loud and unruly as we wanted. We would walk down the corridor to sit at the very rear of the train because, eventually alighting at Egham station’s full-length platform, we would be right next to the exit gate.

When the incident happened that morning, the train had slowed down to pull into Bagshot station and was about to cross the Guildford Road viaduct, a massively tall structure of four arches built in 1878. On either side of this bridge carrying dual train tracks were high embankments with steep, near vertical sides. On the north side, below the railway, was a vast tract of land owned by ‘Waterers Nurseries’ since 1829 to grow and sell plants. Before reaching that was Bagshot Infant School, set back from the embankment, on School Lane that ended in a footpath passing under the embankment towards Bagshot Green farm on the south side. At the time, undeveloped land stretched on both sides and (unlike now) the embankment was not bordered by trees.

Could a person have thrown a stone from the north side to make the train window next to me shatter? Unlikely because the embankment on which the train passed was too steep to stand upon. If the culprit had stood further away, below the embankment, a rock could not have reached the height necessary to make contact with the train, nor would it have retained sufficient momentum to smash the window with enough force for it to have not merely cracked, but to have shattered in its entirety.

What kind of projectile could have caused such damage? A powerful gun of some kind could have generated the necessary velocity and momentum for its bullet to shatter the thick glass window. A gunman (or woman?) would have needed practiced skill to aim upwards from the land below the embankment, or possibly to have lain half-way up the embankment adjacent to the footpath (now 'School Lane Field'). In either case, it would have required planning and experience to succeed in such a challenging topography next to the train route. Since only two trains per hour travelled in either direction, this act could not have been a spur-of-the-moment impulse.

Why was the window I had sat beside targeted? As the train decelerated to enter Bagshot station, the rear carriages would have passed at a slower speed, making them an easier moving target than the front ones. Us schoolboys were habitually the only passengers anywhere in those rear four carriages, making my head the one visible sign of on-board life amongst dozens of otherwise empty train windows. That implies that my window must have been purposefully selected as the intended target. It was a dark winter morning and the internal carriage lighting would have made my outline visible from outside the train.

So where did the bullet land? Only one thing was certain: it had not hit me, otherwise I would not be here to tell the tale. Did we look to see if a bullet had passed over my head and become embedded in the carriage’s structure? No. In that pre-‘CSI’ era, forensic science remained an unknown foreign land. From watching weekly television detective shows, all we understood was that ‘McCloud’ cracked cases by riding his horse down Broadway, ‘Columbo’ used his raincoat and ‘McMillan’ solved crimes by getting into bed with sweatshirt-wearing wife Sally. In the aftermath, I had not even deduced that I had likely been targeted by somebody shooting a gun. That is how unworldly I must have been, though I had always enjoyed the pellet-gun target shooting stall at the fair's bi-annual visits to Camberley Recreation Ground.

So how DID I react to this dramatic event? Did I scream? Cry? Sob uncontrollably? No, I simply stood up, brushed off the glass fragments that had covered me, and our little group moved to an adjoining carriage where the breeze through the vacant window would not make us feel colder. Even had we wanted to, there was nothing we could have done immediately. There were no train staff in those rear carriages and, once the train stopped in Bagshot station, its platform was too short to get out. Only once we reached Ascot was the platform long enough to deboard. So, did we? No, because if we had raised the alarm, we realised the fickle finger of fate might have pointed to us bunch of schoolboys for having broken the window. Which British Rail jobsworth would have believed our story that someone laying on a grassy knoll in Bagshot must have targeted me for assassination?

Leaving the train at Egham twenty-five minutes later, we could see the void where the window had exploded in front of our eyes. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the gaping hole or had bothered to halt the train to investigate. If they had, we might have arrived late for school that day. That would have been a fate worse than death. We had already brushed aside the incident and were more concerned with the school day ahead of us. Once I returned home that evening, I did not even bother mentioning to my parents what had happened. Only years later would I realise what a close call I had experienced that winter morning at the age of thirteen.

For us kids, trekking from one end of Surrey to the other every weekday on public transport, strange events would occur regularly in this otherworld. Our trains were sometimes cancelled, or rerouted through stations that were unknown to us, or suspended when someone jumped to their death off the footbridge at Egham station. In the latter case, some of us would watch morbidly for the arrival of emergency services whose crew had to scoop up the person’s bloodied remains spread along the tracks by a speeding train. Our unspoken attitude was: almost anything could happen on our way to and from school … and often did. It was a daily expedition into a world beyond ours, populated by weird adults to whom we appeared to be invisible.

Once a year, during ‘Royal Ascot’ week in June, our train would fill with bizarrely overdressed racegoers with strange toff accents and extremely loud voices who carried bottles of alcohol, swayed precariously and occasionally were sick on the carriage floor. They were much worse behaved than we had ever been, their conversations often ribald and filled with profanities. Did anyone chastise them, force them off the train or tell them to act respectfully in front of us children? Not at all! They did precisely what the upper classes are wont to do with their own children: they ignored us totally and appeared completely unembarrassed by their own behaviours.

I recalled the Bagshot train incident when, half a century later, I went for a run through rural France on a bright summer morning. There was no traffic and no visible human activity as I ran down the middle of a tarmacked road flanked on both sides by flat agricultural land. The only noise was birdsong until … a high velocity bullet whizzed above my head from left to right. I stopped running, turned in the direction from which it had come and shouted profanities (in English) at the top of my voice. Without my glasses, I was unable to see far enough into the distance to spot the culprit. This was no accident. I could not have been mistaken by a hunter for an animal. I was clearly visible on a ‘departmental’ road, not in the middle of woodland. But I had been the only object moving in this static landscape and that seemed sufficient to unwittingly make me a target.

If I were superstitious, I might be worried about ‘third time lucky’.

[phantomenby]

Creature of the night

xxx-wounded-angel-xxx asked:

Hi! Could i please get a poly! Lost boys with a S/O who's into romantic/vampire goth fashion? Like high pants with poet shirts, or dark velvet dresses with lace? They expect her to be elaborate, distinguished all of the time until they see her in the pit of some metal/punk rock show having the time of her life.

They had been fawning over you for quite some time.

You were still fairly new, something fun to play with. Though you had quickly become more than that.

You had already piqued their interest when you had moved into their sire's old mansion, the great gothic building looming over the ocean had been abandoned for a few years.

Even better, you were theirs by fate. Your eyes had met on your first night at the boardwalk and they were hooked. Unfortunately you were less than pleased to have four arrogant biker boys stalking you wherever you went.

The only benefit was that no one bothered you, and those that did showed up on missing posters the next week.

Being the being you were, you had an inkling as to what the boys might be. Not that you minded of course, finding it rather charming, only hoping they didn't intend to use you as a late night snack.

Every night they would find you, sometimes you would see them, other times like when you were at home they would watch on. When you were hidden far from other humans they liked to mess with you, at first thinking you would be terrified as they knocked about the exterior of your home, instead of being overjoyed as you held a seance in order to have a rational discussion with the ghost you assumed was haunting you.

After a few weeks of teasing touches, eyes crossing, paths colliding coincidentally, you finally spoke to them. Your voice was like honey, a siren pulling them, bending them to their every will.

From that moment on, they were addicted, and you were equally enamored by their overwhelming presence. But you were so formal sometimes, still clouded by anxiety and unable to completely let loose with your chosen ones.

Tonight they had hoped to get a little wild with you, Paul having disappeared into the crowd to stock up on something good to smoke.

"Where is she," Marko was growing restless, hands clenching around his fluffy handlebars, "they said they would meet us an hour ago."

Paul was returning, slinking through the large crowds.

Dwayne frowned, looking out into the crowd, trying to catch sight of you. He was the most protective, something of a mother hen, and despite how much of a firecracker you could be he still worried about those on the boardwalk who wouldn't miss the opportunity to accost you when the boys weren't there.

The tall blonde had finally arrived and the grin he had been boasting quickly disappeared from his face in favour of a scowl, quite disappointed at your lack of presence among the rest of the pack, "I was gone an hour, where the fuck-"

David was quick to interrupt him, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with his toe, we don't know, he climbed onto his bike and signaled the others to follow. The four of them quickly pulled out of the boardwalk and descended upon the roads, choosing to use the soulbond to hunt you down.

They followed the trail down the seafront, coming to a stop in one of the worser parts of town that was known for being active all day and night, also a place with fairly unsavory characters living there.

"Why would they be out in a place like this..." Marko was getting twitchy, hands clenching and nose sniffing the air to catch a wiff of you. He shot up and turned a corner when he finally caught something, catching the others off guard who quickly turned to follow him, stopping outside of an abandoned factory where music was playing loudly from.

You were at a rave. A rave in an abandoned building. In the worst part of town.

God, Dwayne's hair was going to be grey by the end of the night.

"Come on boys, lets go," Davids expression was positively murderous as he led them up a fire exit, forcing the door open and walking along an upper balcony that looked out above the crowd, searching for you like a hound out of hell.

It was hard, with the lights flashing, music blaring, and hundreds of different smells clouding their senses it was near impossible to find you. But they could feel you, sense your emotions and catch flickers of your mind.

"Marko, Dwayne," he nodded at the two of them, sending them down and into the crowd whilst Pauls eyes were used more purposefully up above, if anyone looked up they would have seen two sets of pale orbs scanning the crowds like mad men.

"There-" Davids eyes shot to where Paul's were set towards, widening slightly at the sight of you moving with the crowd.

It was...different to how they had seen you. Your clothes were much less regal, still fairly old fashioned but more costum-ey. The top you wore was a deep purple, exposing your shoulders and baggy, looking much like a pirate when combined with the black-lacily-decorated corset flush to your body. They then realized the shirt became a dress, one which barely reached your knees. The knee high boots almost took David out.

To your left boys, David nodded down at the two of them in the crowd, sending them to their unsuspecting mate who was dancing with their friend.

-

You had been having the time of your life, surrounded by pulsing bass and your less than lucid friends, deep in a pit and letting the environment overwhelm you. These plans had been made weeks a go, you had told your boys weeks ago.

But of course, they hadn't registered it, too occupied with messing around and teasing you to fully listen.

One moment you had been holding hands with your close friend, Marissa, the next you were being tugged away through the crowd by two sets of cold hands.

"H-hey! What the fuck let me go-"

You were interrupted by a deep chuckle, finding yourself pressed against a chest, dark hair surrounding you like a cloak as a golden figure stepped in front of you.

"Nuh uh, you got some explaining to do little bat," you pushed Marko away, growling when he simply gripped your wrists and pressed your fists against him, grinning at you with an evil look in his eye, "we waiting for you love, Paul was real sad about it, right Paul?"

The tall blonde joined you, followed closely by David who was staring at you hungrily, his soft pale lips became a pout as he looked down at you, "I was Marko~" he pinched your cheeks teasingly, "what you doin' in this part of town huh?"

"I told you-"

David tutted, boxing you in with the other three, it was only making you angrier, "I think we would have remembered that kit."

"Uh huh, yet here you are, I told you weeks ago!" You batted Pauls hands away as they fiddled with your corset, kicking Marko when his fingers danced dangerously close to the laces holding it together, "Remember, when that rock band came to play- ay!- Marko stop that!"

He had gone for them again, huffing and stealing you from Dwayne to pull you to his own chest, burying his fingers into your hair and breathing you in. The other three were silent, their minds working overtime whilst silently watching you and Marko tussle. God you looked good-

"Jesus christ!-" you had freed yourself, only slightly, Markos hands were still squeezing your waist as he sought the soft flesh beneath the stiff article covering you, "The Raiders concert! I told you, and don't say I didn't or I swear to-"

Paul paled, backing away a couple steps, realising you were right. The other three soon followed, now realising they had invoked your wrath, eying the long black talons you had warily.

"Uh- babe, I uh, might've remembered that-" you stomped Paul's foot, the solid heel of the boot digging into his toes, "ah shit! I'm sorry!-"

You were unrelenting, smacking his arm like a mother scorned by her son, now cursing him out in your mother tongue.

"I swear, if you idiots don't let me enjoy this night I will blue ball you for the rest of the year!" it was only July, don't say that.

The three who were watching on raised their hands, letting you pass by them and back to your friend.

After huddling back together and coming up with a plan to regain your favour they returned to you, offering you unlimited drinks for both you and your friend, and giving you gentle affection as you danced.

[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: XII. Highway To Hell (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7169

Chapter Warnings: Language, Violence.

You held a hand up over your shoulder and crouched down near the door, signalling for Carol to do the same behind you. Your gun was pressed snug between your palms, and your knife hung from your belt in case you needed it. Though, from the looks of the place it seemed pretty secure - if the lock you'd just busted open was anything to go by. The two of you were scavenging and had spotted a small general store, deciding to check it out before heading back to the cabin. The group hadn't eaten anything substantial in days, save for the things Daryl had been hunting. Even then, the harsh winter months made it harder for him to pick up tracks when most animals had better shelter than you all did.

It had been a number of weeks since the farm was overrun, but it almost felt like yesterday. The temperature had dropped to freezing seemingly overnight, making your fortunes that much more cruel. Even now, your breath formed clouds of smoke before your eyes, and the cold felt like it had infiltrated your bones at some point and never left. The tips of your fingers stung as they glowed red, exposed through your fingerless gloves, and you were certain that your nose matched, too. Carol's did, that's for sure.

You gave her a quick nod before kicking in the door harshly with your boot, raising your gun as you entered. The inside was bigger than you were expecting, and it took you a few minutes to clear each aisle for walkers. As you did, you noticed how most supplies were missing from the shelves, having been taken before the place was locked up. Still, Glenn had always drilled into you the first rule of scavenging: 'there's nothing good left in this world that isn't hidden.'

Sending a nod to Carol, you put your gun away in your holster before reminding her to stay alert. The two of you split up as she made her way towards the canned goods sections, hoping to find something there. Ever since you'd been on the road, you and Carol had gotten quite a bit closer. At first, she seemed sceptical of Rick and the whole situation you were forced into, as you all did. Though, after time she seemed to realise that he was the group's best shot. Most days, the two of you made dinner with anything you could find, often supplementing the things you were missing with whatever Daryl had managed to bring home from his hunt. Other times, you went scavenging together, as you did today.

At first, Rick absolutely refused to let anyone split up, and you had to abide by his rule. One time he'd caught you mocking his 'this isn't a democracy' speech to Beth behind his back and you'd had to forfeit your portion of squirrel to the greater good that evening. Daryl sneaked you some of his afterwards, however. Though, Rick quickly began to realise that there was no other choice. Before long, you'd gotten good with a gun; taking down walkers each day had that effect. Soon, you were one of the frontrunners whenever you had a house to clear - often fighting alongside him, Glenn and Daryl.

Now, he was comfortable with you leading a few runs of your own and taking Carol along with you. Glenn and Maggie often went together, too, so that you covered more ground. It wasn't that Rick was comfortable with splitting up the group, you thought; he just didn't have a choice. Lori was nearing her due date and you were all practically living on fresh air, moving from place to place quicker than you had the chance to catch your breath.

You hadn't even had time to settle things with Daryl. You barely saw the man. He'd leave first thing in the morning to look for food, and be back late at night - when most of the group had already fallen asleep. Even then, he often took watch straight after he returned. You could tell how responsible he felt for everyone and you saw the worry in his eyes daily, if the bags under them were anything to go by.

After you had kissed Daryl, back at the farm, you only had one conversation about it. It was a couple of days after you all fled, when you were taking watch with him as the rest of the group were stuck camping under the stars. It was brief, and before that the two of you had already gone back to acting as good friends, like usual. He'd told you that he wasn't good with words, and didn't want to just give you some half-assed response in the midst of struggling to survive the Georgia winter. You agreed, and it was decided then that you'd talk about it later. Yet, later never came.

It had been an unspoken rule between the two of you that everyone's safety was the priority. Though, in truth, you hadn't had a single moment where you felt safe since you left the farm. It seemed almost cruel that immediately after you'd told the man that you wanted to live, rather than just survive, you had been thrust out into the vicious world where that's all you could struggle to do. So, the two of you just existed at the moment.

Some mornings you'd wake up to sound of him leaving, and some evenings he'd be back early enough to share a meal with you. Other than that, you lived for the brief occasions where you'd take watch together, when he'd smoke a cigarette next to you and you'd sit in content silence. Though, sometimes it felt like you were frightened to say anything at all, in case you accidentally blurted out all of your feelings at once. So, the both of you barely talked - waiting for the time when you could actually talk.

You shoved some supplies into your satchel as you scoured the aisles. There wasn't much you could see that hadn't been taken already, but you picked up a few bandaids in case you ever needed them. The only thing you were able to save from the farm was your satchel. Luckily, it already had your polaroids in it and a change of clothes, since you'd been packing to move into the Greenes' farmhouse at the time the horde arrived. Still, there was so much you missed from those days.

You missed the material things, like the comfort you got just from seeing Dale's RV parked by the main camp. You missed the flimsy deck chairs surrounding it, and the big apple trees that gave it shade, and the books you'd borrow from Hershel's library to read when you had lookout duty on top of it. You missed your white dress that smelt like the washing powder that Patricia used - even though you knew it wouldn't have survived long out in these dingy, cold places. You even missed the intangible things, and felt a deep longing of nostalgia for the sounds of the leaves rustling in the breeze or for the sweetness of the air. Those days felt so far away from you now, like the images of them were slipping out of your grasp - like grains of sand before you could catch them.

The things that remained fresh in your mind, however, were the people that you left behind. You missed Patricia and Jimmy and Andrea, and even Shane. As much as that man rubbed you the wrong way, you didn't want to see him die. You didn't want any of them to die. That night was a mess. These days, you often woke up in a cold sweat from the nightmares. Except, this time it was the faces of your family replacing the walkers that usually inhabited them. You missed the people you'd lost and you missed the place that you all thought was home. You also missed Daryl Dixon.

A loud clatter sounded from a few rows over from you, immediately making you thumb over your gun as you stilled in place.

"Carol?" You called over, unable to see her from behind the tall shelves. "Everything alright?"

She responded instantly, and you felt relief wash over you as she did.

"I'm fine. I just dropped a tin." She reassured you, her voice carrying as an echo in the empty store.

You let out a small sigh before continuing with your poor haul. It was times like these that you really felt your mind wander when it shouldn't. You knew that you should always be cautious, since you promised Rick that you'd look out for Carol. Though, quite frankly, you thought that he didn't give her enough credit. That woman was a force to be reckoned with, but not many people had realised it yet. Daryl had. The friendship the two of them shared was really admirable. He'd been the one to search for Sofia, and comfort Carol after the loss of her - and Carol was equally as good for him as he was for her. She'd been able to coax him out of his shell where even you struggled to, and you could see how he'd started to accept his new role within the group because of her.

You just wished, very selfishly, that you could be with him. You understood that he had a job to do now, and how not everyone was able to do the things he did. The group had women and children and older people and a pregnant Lori. You were all running on empty, barely hanging on as it was. Yet, those nights when he'd come back empty-handed, cursing himself under his breath when he thought you were all asleep, made you want to hold him close. You never did, knowing how much Daryl Dixon hated pity from anyone, but the longing was so strong that it made your eyes sting with tears.

Although things weren't awkward between the two of you, you didn't joke around nearly as much as you used to. The atmosphere always felt heavy, as nobody knew when the next meal would come, or how long this place would be safe before you had to move again. As the nights got bitterly cold, you huddled next to Beth for warmth, or Carol sometimes. You felt absolutely no shame in it. There were only a few tattered blankets to go around, but they barely did anything for your numb toes and stiff fingers. If you weren't all family before, then you definitely were now - given how close you'd all had to become.

Some nights, the ones which were your favourites, Daryl slept beside you. You didn't think it was intentional at first. Or, maybe it was. In the grand scheme of things, it was barely anything at all. Yet, the first time almost made you cry, as it felt like he was reminding you that he still cared for you. It wasn't like you ever embraced him, or did anything remotely intimate. You hadn't ever been anything more than the brief kiss you shared in his tent. Though, it still felt intimate to you.

He'd come in late, as usual, on a particularly cold night. You'd heard him slug off his boots and throw them aside as he stripped out of his heavy winter gear. The whole time, you'd pretended to be asleep, like you normally did. After a while, he finally laid down on the ground, clambering over the sleeping bodies of the rest of the group. You usually all huddled together in one room for warmth. You'd felt the floorboards creak and shift beneath you as he settled next to you, not that you were touching, but close enough to feel his presence and hear his breathing.

Once you were sure he'd fallen asleep, you scooted backwards slightly, so that your backs were touching. It was hardly anything, but the slight warmth you felt from him was more comfort than you'd had in weeks. You were touch starved and hungry and cold. You needed something. When you'd woken up the next morning, he was already gone. He never said anything about it, but since then you'd found yourself occasionally waking up in the middle of the night to your back pressed against his, or sometimes having a hand intertwined with your own.

As you finished down one aisle, you noticed another that had been left untouched. It was a toy section, quite small given the size of the store. Obviously, the necessities had been taken first, and you thought that whatever children had survived the apocalypse probably didn't have many things left to play with - since they were all still here. You trailed your finger over the dusty shelf, feeling the glossy plastic of the boxes and the soft fur of the stuffed animals piled there.

"Looking for something for the baby?" Carol asked, popping up behind you.

You immediately jumped, and flung a hand over your chest as you shot her a look. It had been your fault for not paying attention, but she didn't need to know that.

You shook your head. "Not intentionally." You admitted, eyes scanning over the selection. "But I suppose we could pick something up."

You chose one of the bears and shoved it into your satchel. Usually, you'd have looked for something for Carl, too, but he'd recently been acting a lot older than his years. He wanted to step up and protect everyone like his father, he confessed to you one day. You had to admit, he was a pretty good shot and certainly didn't seem like a child anymore. You didn't want to undermine his efforts by presenting him with an action figure in the midst of your current situation, telling him to take a break from killing walkers to play with it.

"Did you find anything?" You turned to look at Carol, who held up her bag that didn't seem anywhere near full.

She shrugged her shoulders at you and made a face. "Few expired cans, but nothing much." She frowned. "You?"

You shook your head softly and flipped open the flap of your satchel to show her your haul.

"Some bandaids and a Freddie Mercury bobblehead." You confessed, picking it out to show her.

You held up the small figure in front of her face, pulling back its comically large head with your thumb and letting it wobble.

"Cute, right?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Carol just gave a small chuckle in reply, folding her arms as though about to half-heartedly scold a child. You shrugged your shoulders before stuffing it back into the bag. Just because Carl didn't want to play with toys anymore didn't mean that you couldn't.

Carol glanced over at the entrance of the store, before giving the shelves a final scan. "We should get going soon." She noted, her bag clanking as she readjusted it over her shoulder. "Some walkers might have gathered outside by now."

You hummed in response, distracted by the array of multi-coloured boxes. "It's fine, I'll look after you." You said, shooting her a wink as she sighed.

The woman had become used to your teasing by now, and it was a welcomed change from how tense you all were most of the time. Even though you mostly used humor as a coping mechanism, especially when you felt nervous, it seemed to lighten the atmosphere when it got a bit too heavy.

"Though I don't think you even need me." You continued, eyeing the small pistol she had tucked into her jeans. "You're getting pretty good with a gun."

Carol snorted at that, reminding you of the time she almost shot a bullet through Rick's boot not so long ago. In her defence, Rick had been a lot more on edge that day, and you'd been quite tempted to do the same.

"Speak for yourself." She spoke, after you'd tried to convince her otherwise. "You started learning after me and your aim's already on parr with Rick's."

You remembered those first days, and how hard they were. Everyone had fallen into their roles and you'd felt almost stuck in place. You didn't know how best to contribute. It had taken the neighbourhood you were all staying in to get overrun before you had the chance to test your skills. You hadn't wanted to waste bullets before that, but you'd scarcely had a choice then.

"He's a good teacher." You smiled at Carol, giving Rick praise where it was due. "And there's no better practice than being terrified and having to learn on the job." You admitted with a strained laugh.

You continued walking down the aisle slowly, back in the direction of the entrance.

"But you're right, we should go." You agreed, gesturing to the door.

The two of you took a few steps together before you stopped abruptly as something caught your attention, right in the corner of your eye. You whipped your head around to look at one of the glossy toy boxes, reading its bold letter description.

"Oh my god." You mumbled to yourself, below your breath.

Carol looked over at you, confused. "What is it?" She asked, glancing in the direction where you were staring.

You couldn't hold back the grin that spread over your face as you grabbed the box and held it in your hand. You glanced over your shoulder, at Carol, before running your fingers back over the dusty plastic.

"No fucking way!" You yelled in disbelief. It seemed like your luck was finally changing.

Carol peered over your shoulder before letting out a chuckle at your expression.

"Now that would be perfect for the baby." She smiled, staring down at it in your hands.

You shook your head at her, looking up to meet her eyes. "I actually had someone else in mind." You admitted, still feeling the smile tug at the corners of your mouth as you said it. "It's a bit of an inside joke we have."

Carol hummed in reply, but didn't press for answers.

"But I agree." You went on, making room for the box to fit into your satchel. "It'll probably get handed down to baby Grimes at some point."

The walk back to the cabin was pretty uneventful. The two of you stayed in the cover of the forest, out of sight of the main road. You'd had to dispatch a couple of walkers on the way, but nothing that the two of you couldn't handle. At this point, you just wished for another set of clothes that weren't covered in muck and dried blood. You could hardly remember the last time you'd worn something clean - that hadn't just been dunked in a creek when you came across one.

As you walked, you must have strayed slightly off the path that you usually took, since you came across an unfamiliar, old Toyota truck that had veered off road and crashed into a tree. It was covered in dried leaves and all beat up, but you recognised the model as the same one belonging to Otis, back at the Greene farm. It was always parked outside there. It was a simple, two person pick up truck that was rusty red in colour, and it instantly made you think back on the night that you were forced into driving it.

After Rick had told you and Daryl that Randall had escaped, the whole farm went into an uproar. You stayed in the farmhouse whilst some of the group went to look for him, Daryl included. It wasn't long before you spotted the horde coming your way, and Hershel's barn had started to go up in flames in the distance. After that, you could barely remember what had happened.

You'd been with Daryl at first. He shot the walkers that got too close with his crossbow, before switching to guns. You did the same, trying to give the others an opportunity to pile into the vehicles and escape. At some point, however, you got completely cut off from the rest of the group and had been forced back to the opposite side of the farmhouse.

The chaos was indescribable. It was like you'd been drafted up for war in the span of half an hour. Soon, you had run out of bullets and only had your knife left to defend yourself. So, you ran. Not able to see any of the others anymore, you sprinted for the last vehicle left - Otis' old Toyota truck. You flung the door open and clambered inside, locking it just in time to avoid the hands that smacked up onto the glass windows. You remembered how your chest heaved as your hands fumbled around the dash frantically. You finally found the keys tucked into the sun visor above your head, and almost cried from relief.

When your hands stopped shaking long enough to put it in the ignition, you turned the key only for the engine to rumble once before falling flat. You tried it again, and it gave out a choked sputter and died.

"No, no, no." You whispered, turning the key over and over to try and start the truck. "This can't be happening."

The windows had almost been completely blacked out by the number of hands and faces pressed against them, the walkers snapping their jaws at you as you panicked inside. In the rearview mirror, you could even see some start to clamber into the truck bed, and knew that it was only a matter of time before they completely swarmed you. You slammed your hands onto the steering wheel in frustration and yelled, not caring whether you attracted more.

"I can't die now, I just kissed that stubborn asshole!" You screamed, accidentally hitting the windscreen wiper stick with your elbow. You watched as the blade caught one of the walkers' flesh and smeared it over the glass.

"Fucking great." You sighed, and turned the key again.

This time, you felt it catch slightly between your fingers, and thought that perhaps the starter motor was sticking. The truck hadn't been used since Otis' death, but it still seemed to have some life in it. You jiggled the key and turned it half way, praying to every deity you could think of. You twisted it fully, and the engine roared to life. You held your breath for a few seconds, not entirely trusting it, but as it continued to rumble you realised that it had started properly this time.

Not wanting to sit around any longer, you immediately set off, mowing down the stream of walkers in front of you all while hoping that the car wouldn't flip over. You watched your mirror as the ones clinging onto the truck bed were flung off as you picked up speed, and you almost wanted to yell out in triumph - but felt like you might be sick if you did so.

The truck was hell to drive. You couldn't figure out the stick for a while and your windscreen was covered in blood and smeared guts. You knew you had to head for the highway where the supplies for Sofia were left. You'd gone with Rick one time, when he went to wait for her there at noon. As you pulled out of Hershel's farm, you gave a final glance back in your mirror to see your home burn and become entirely inhabited by the undead - and noticed your little yellow submarine trampled to the ground as you did so.

As you neared the highway, after driving on the wrong side of the road for a while without realising it, you felt a knot start to form in your stomach. You hadn't seen the others get away - you didn't know if they were alive or dead, or even if they would have waited for you if they managed to escape. Your eyes blurred with tears as you drove, still not feeling any sense of relief despite having made it out of the farm. You just prayed that everyone was safe.

When you got closer to the meeting spot, you immediately noticed the familiar vehicles from the farm, and even Daryl's motorbike, all parked up. You stopped the truck once you couldn't go any further, being blocked by the abandoned cars. The group began to approach you quickly as you clambered out and hit the floor with shaky feet. Glenn reached you first, smiling widely when he saw that you were okay.

"Is that you?" He asked, clapping a hand over your trembling shoulders. "I've never seen anyone drive that badly before-"

You didn't let him finish, instead running over to Daryl on unsteady feet. You flung yourself into his arms, which pulled you in close and held you tight. You sobbed louder than you thought you ever had before, crying into his chest as you felt one of his hands stroke softly over your back. You didn't care what anyone thought at this moment. Nothing could describe the feeling of losing your home and thinking your family was dead. You realised how close you had been to being all alone, once again.

"Hey, c'mon look at me." He said softly, trying to pry himself out of your grip.

He lifted your chin up with his finger and you knew that you must've looked quite the state. Your eyes were completely blurred with tears, so much that you could barely make out the man in front of you, and your nose ran as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

"It's a'right." He reassured you, looking into your eyes as if realising that you needed further convincing. "Yer safe."

You looked around at the group, taking in their faces and feeling your hands tremble against Daryl's chest as they clutched the material of his shirt still. Everyone looked relieved, and offered you small smiles of comfort.

You stepped back from the man a little, giving him his space. You still couldn't stop the tears from falling. It was as if your body still hadn't caught up to your mind.

"I was so scared." You admitted quietly, voice quivering as you did so. "I thought you'd all left me."

You didn't drop your hands from his chest, letting yourself feel his heartbeat beneath your palms as a reminder that this was all real.

Daryl shook his head at you. "We'd never leave ya, Teach" He grumbled, as though he couldn't believe you'd even suggest it. "Went back to look for ya on the bike but I couldn't find ya."

Maggie stepped forward, pulling you into a hug as you finally released Daryl's shirt from your grip. She stroked your hair as she brought you into her chest, and you felt tears stream down your cheeks.

"You scared us all half to death." She told you, before gripping onto your shoulders tightly as you stood back from her.

Glenn nodded in agreement, before letting out a small chuckle. "Then we spotted Otis' truck barreling down the highway." He said, pointing over to the vehicle you'd abandoned. "Thought a walker was driving it the way you were swerving all over the place."

You tried to let out a laugh in return, but it came out all watery in between your sobs.

"The gearstick-" you choked out, hiccuping as you spoke. "Had to change gears with the wrong hand." You explained, lifting your arm to give a poor demonstration as you continued to cry.

"You-" you spluttered, letting out a wail mixed with a desperate laugh. "You stupid Americans."

It was a few days before you and Daryl crossed paths in the cabin again. It was late and you'd been trying to sleep for a few hours when the door creaked open. He'd shuffled around for a bit before you heard him take over watch duty from Glenn. At first, you'd wanted to go outside and scold him for never taking the time to rest, but after a few minutes you decided on a different plan. Prying yourself out from underneath the blanket you shared with Beth, you pulled on your boots - not bothering to do up the laces. The icy breeze hit your skin and caused it to prickle instantly, making you wish you had a spare comforter to take with you. You wouldn't be surprised if it snowed soon, given how dry and bitter the air had felt on your cheek earlier that day.

You retrieved your satchel and tip-toed around the sleeping bodies, doing your best not to step on any creaky floorboards and disturb them. You opened the cabin door slowly, and shut it behind you as you stepped out into the night. Daryl was sitting on the stone wall a few feet away, and you could tell that the smoke coming from his lips was from more than just the cold. He had a cigarette lit between his fingers, and you could make out the familiar lighter that he flicked open and closed in his other hand. You approached with purposefully loud footsteps, not wanting to startle him. He didn't turn around, waiting until you came closer.

"Mind if I join you?" You shot him a smile, pulling your arms to your chest to try and protect yourself against the chill.

He hummed in response, and you noticed how exhausted he looked in the glow of the lighter flame that flickered near his cheeks. His hands were covered in dirt, as were parts of his face, and his hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck despite how cold it was. Though, you were sure that you didn't look any better. Your once white vest was now a grubby brown colour and you'd pulled your long hair into a bun on top of your head about a week ago and hadn't looked back since.

Wordlessly, the man shrugged off the poncho he'd found recently, and handed it to you. He had another leather jacket on underneath, but you still felt guilty. You thanked him, pulling it over your head and instantly feeling grateful for the warmth that engulfed you. He then pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering it over to you where he sat. You shook your head and gave him a small smile as he shrugged and stuffed them back into his jacket.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, just watching and listening to the night. Nothing was uncomfortable between you. It's just that the two of you were almost like magnets, trying to intentionally stay away from each other. You feared that the two of you might never be able to seperate if you stuck together for good. It wasn't awkward, but there was definitely unspoken tension, like you were both waiting for something that you couldn't let happen yet.

"I miss my tent." You sighed, watching your breath appear as a small puff of air against the black night.

Daryl grumbled at that. "I sure as hell don't." He muttered, taking a final drag from his smoke before snuffing it out on the wall. "Thing was an eyesore."

You chuckled a bit at his response, not really sure what you were expecting. "You loved it, really." You teased, shooting him a wink that he dismissed.

"Whatever, Sunshine." He mumbled back, but his voice sounded a lot lighter than it had for a while.

After a few seconds, you remembered your satchel, now safely tucked away in the warmth of the poncho you wore. You fumbled around beneath it for a bit, which made Daryl give you a look, before pulling out the canvas bag and setting it onto your lap.

"I have something for you." You beamed, feeling the breeze sting your sore, chapped lips.

Daryl sighed at you, finally looking over to meet your eyes.

"Ya need to stop gettin' me shit." He drawled, with no bite behind his words.

You shook your head quickly at the accusation. "It isn't from me!" You almost yelled, before reminding yourself that there were people sleeping a few feet away, and lowering your voice.

You glanced back at the cabin and pointed to it. "This place has no chimney, so he told me to pass it onto you."

Daryl raised an eyebrow at you, which you ignored. Instead, you fished around in your satchel until you found what you were looking for. You could barely contain your excitement as you pulled out the box wrapped messily in old newspapers, and handed it to him expectantly.

He took it from you carefully, as though not entirely trusting it. Though, he still held it gently in his hand, in case he was afraid to break it. You watched intently as he flipped it over and squinted his eyes at the writing on it, confusion clear on his face. You'd scribbled on it earlier in the day, having found a sharpie tucked away in one of the drawers. You'd tried to do it secretively, but almost had a heart attack when Glenn asked you what you were doing - dropping the gift and kicking it under the couch until he promised to leave. Luckily, you hadn't found any dents on it afterwards. Yet, you now found it almost comical how carefully Daryl treated the box, considering what you had done to it only a few hours before.

Your eyes scanned over the letters with him as he read them, seeing the words written on top of the newspaper in black, bold print:

'To Young Daryl Dixon,

Merry Christmas!

From, Father Christmas.'

By the time he looked up to question you, you were already watching his eyes - waiting to see his expression. At the moment, his face was still scrunched up in confusion, which made you chuckle. The man looked at you like you'd just handed him a bomb he didn't know how to diffuse.

"Father Christmas?" He asked slowly, like the syllables were foreign on his tongue.

You cocked your head to the side, looking back down at the gift and wondering if you'd made a mistake. Your eyes widened.

"Shit." You muttered below your breath, before looking back up to meet his gaze. "It's Santa Clause to you people, isn't it?" You questioned.

Daryl looked at you in disbelief, as if wondering what the hell you were going on about. You were used to that look from him by now, and continued to ramble.

"I'm sure that's what he meant." You said, nodding. "He probably was in a rush when he wrote it." You looked away from the man, trying not to giggle as you remembered the whole incident between you and Glenn.

He continued to stare at you before shaking his head.

"Yer crazy, woman." He grumbled, picking the wrapped box back up to inspect it closer.

You felt your patience reach its limit, unable to contain your excitement anymore. You shoved his arm.

"Just open it!" You ordered, and he did.

For a man so rough around the edges, you'd never seen someone unwrap a gift so gently before. He didn't rip into the paper like you would have, but spent a few extra seconds pulling the parcel tape off and unfolding it with care. Once it was opened up on his lap, you watched his face as he finally saw the plastic box inside.

You knew it wasn't the exact same one he'd told you about, from all of those years ago, but it must've been close. It was a child's sheriff kit. It had the little hat that looked similar to Rick's, and the pointy metal badge in the shape of a star. When you'd seen it in the store, you just knew you had to get it for him. He might have forgotten telling you about it by now, but you had remembered.

"It didn't come with a gun, I'm afraid." You pointed to the plastic window of the box, explaining it to him. "But we have plenty of those."

You shot him a smile as you saw his expression. It was still confused, as he glanced between you and the box in his palms, but it was a lot more shy and uncertain now. You could almost see the thoughts working overtime in that head of his, as he processed it all, and decided to stop staring at him.

"It was either this or a Freddie Mercury bobblehead." You noted, feeling your cheeks hurt at how much you were beaming at the man. "And I wanted the bobblehead."

He sat in silence, just listening to your ramblings as he usually did. His eyes were still fixated on the gift, as if making up for all the years he'd wished for it as a child. You desperately wanted to slip your hand into his, or rest your head on his shoulder - but you refrained. You didn't want to take away from this moment; you just wanted to watch it. That, and you weren't sure if you'd be able to let him go if you did.

"You said how you never got any presents as a kid." You started carefully, trying to navigate your thoughts into words. "It made me sad." You admitted, in more of a whisper this time.

Daryl looked over at you, his expression soft. It was like he was uncertain of his own words, too.

"I know it's stupid." You confessed, voice trailing off as you lost your nerve.

"Nah it aint." He interrupted, shaking his head and trying to get you to look at him. "I love it."

You thought he was being sarcastic until your eyes met his and you saw the sincerity within them, and suddenly your breath caught in your throat. Daryl Dixon gave you a smile so warm that it almost made you forget it was winter. You didn't know he could even make these kinds of expressions, and you weren't able to entirely hide your reaction. Though, his smile went as quickly as it came. He looked away from you, as if noticing he'd let his stubborn, unapproachable wall crumble down. You snorted, wondering if he truly hadn't realised that you knew him better than that by now.

"I thought that baby Grimes could play with it eventually." You suggested, and he hummed in agreement.

"But in the meantime-" you continued, taking the box from his hands and opening it.

He watched you with curious eyes but didn't say anything, just letting you carry on like you had him wrapped around your little finger. You fumbled with the box, pulling out the star shaped badge, before handing the rest back. You turned so that you were facing opposite him, and pulled on his leather jacket so that it opened.

He grumbled at you as you did it, but made no effort to pull away or stop you. Instead, you flipped open one side of his jacket and pinned the badge on the material inside, closing it again before the cold set it.

"It belongs to Deputy Dixon, as promised." You finished with a smile, watching as he thumbed over the metal concealed in his jacket. The look on his face showed just how much he struggled to figure you out.

To your surprise, he didn't remove it straight away. He just bit his lip, as though trying to think of how to respond.

"Yer too much, Teach." He said lowly, after a few seconds.

"How so?" You asked.

He glanced back down into his lap, at the box that was still resting there. "Doin' all this." He mumbled, seeming like he was holding himself back. You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

"You bring back comics for Carl, an' stuff for the baby." He said, looking down as he spoke. "We're all here tryna do our best jus' to survive, an' you come in with that huge beamin' smile on yer face showin' us a bobblehead ya found."

He finally met your eyes, and you could see from his look that he just genuinely couldn't comprehend it. You seemed to completely allude Daryl Dixon, and the thought of him struggling to try to understand you better made you almost giddy.

"I know it's odd." You admitted, pulling the poncho closer to your body as the wind picked up. "But just because our priority is surviving doesn't mean that we should put off living."

You bit your lip. This was the most you had spoken to the man in weeks, and as the seconds went by you found it harder and harder to hold yourself back.

"I thought you could use a reminder of that." You said, offering him a small smile. "You work so hard to try and keep us all fed and safe, I wanted to give you something as a thank you."

The newspaper fluttered in the breeze, and Daryl barely caught hold of it as a gust picked it up. You caught a glimpse of your handwriting, where he held it between his fingers.

"Santa Clause did, I mean." You corrected.

You sat together in silence for a while, but the man didn't light any more cigarettes. You felt yourself growing tired and attempted to convince him to swap his shift with someone else, but he refused. You knew the sun would start to rise in a couple of hours, so you wanted to get some sleep before then. Begrudgingly, you shuffled out of the oversized poncho and offered it back to the man before you left, immediately being reminded of how icy the weather had gotten. He shook his head at your outstretched hand, which you had already expected.

"Nah, you keep it." He said, in a way that left you no room to argue.

You raised an eyebrow at him, feeling nostalgic at the familiar situation. This time, however, you didn't fight with him. Slipping the material back over your head, you huddled it to your chest and whispered a soft 'thanks' to him. The sky was still dark, and kept you wondering whether you would start to see sleet fall in the next couple of days. You looked back over to the dilapidated cabin, with its wooden weathered walls and its roof that looked close to caving in. It was a far cry from Hershel's idyllic farmhouse, but somehow you didn't seem to mind as much on this specific night.

You slipped off the stone wall you'd been sitting on and stood up on your tip-toes to reach the man still sat there. You brushed away the hair over his face with the palm of your hand, and gave him a brief kiss on the forehead before turning to leave.

"Merry Christmas, Daryl." You told him, and returned to the house to watch the first snowflakes fall from the window.

A/N Don't you love it when the plot points you set up 6 chapters ago come back around to be resolved. It's *delicious*. I think I would actually pay to see the Christmas scene play out. There's only so much imagination can do - I want to see Daryl's shy reaction in person, too!

As usual, drop me a message to be included in the tags list!

Tag List:

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[abbyandersonbicep]

Knight! Natasha - part I

warnings: swords, knives, mentions of blood and violence

A/N: Thank you @sanguine-saber​ for helping me edit this!!!! This took me forever to write, i hope you all enjoy it!! i have a few more parts planned for it. Also Flashbacks are in cursive

An almost inaudible knock shook you out of your thoughts. Your eyes quickly shot towards the big wooden doors, letting out a breath of relief when you saw Natasha. Relaxing your shoulders you rushed towards the redhead, worry visible in your features. 

“We have to go now,” her eyes locked with yours, “They’re arriving by morning, if we wanna get to safety before that we need to hurry”. Keeping her hand steady on your waist, Natasha pulled you through the long, echoing corridors. 

Your thoughts ran wild with worry and confusion as you were led through what felt like a maze of stone. Why were they coming for you now, after all these years? What would happen if they got you?

Your hips bumped into Natasha’s as she came to a halt in front of you. Her eyes flashed a look of concern as her hand reached up to your cheek. “Hey they’re not gonna find us, okay? I’m gonna keep you safe,” you nodded, and her face relaxed; she knew you trusted her. You huddled closer as she pulled you into the dark yard. 

The only sources of light were a few torches in the distance, so the two of you snuck through the shadows of the castle. Only a few soldiers here and there, their steps followed by the rustling of their chain armor. Suddenly Natashas arms flew up towards your chest, your back smashed into the wall with a low thumb. You squeezed your eyes shut in pain. Before any sound made its way past your lips, Natasha covered your mouth hand. She leaned in, her lips almost touching your ear.

“Don’t make a fucking sound” she said, her hand loosening.

 Her sudden change in mood made your heart drop. Knowing you understood, she moved her hand from your face, so that only one finger hovered over your lips.

Rushing to the next corner, pairs of loud steps approached. The sound of metal on metal coming closer, as Natasha tried to peer around the corner without being seen. She kept you pressed against the wall, hidden in the shadows as the guards rushed past you. 

When it was safe to come out of your hide, you gently tugged at Natasha’s waist, gesturing her towards the dark yard. With no guards in sight, you looked around one last time, before you quickly snuck behind an old tree.

“We can go through here, the tunnel leads right into the stables,” you said, opening a round trap door that was hidden under some overgrown ivy. Gripping the redhead’s hand tightly, you took one last look around the yard and the tall walls of the place you used to call home. Feeling a few small tears prick in your eyes, it felt like a lump was stuck in your throat as your vision clouded up. Swallowing down the wave of sadness overcoming you, you took a deep breath.

Light on your feet, you pulled Natasha through the tunnel, towards the horse stable, her hand still holding onto yours tightly. Even though you’ve held her hands a thousand times it still sent a comfortable, yet thrilling shiver down your spine. Rushing towards the stables, your breath heavy, you squeezed Natashas hand tighter, while looking around cautiously as you opened the door at the other end of the tunnel. 

 Your giggles echoed through the corridors, bright, warm rays of the sun falling through the colored windows. Chasing through the long halls your laughter mixed with the ones of the two girls running around with you. Running towards the big hall, your parents awaiting you, soft smiles tracing their faces. “Natasha has been training in combat for quite a while, do you think you would be able to train her more? With her becoming a knight our family reputation would be repaired for some part at least” a brown-haired woman, who seemed to be Natashas and Yelena’s mother. Grabbing the redhead’s hand you pulled her out of the big room, back through the never-ending corridors, rushing past old portraits of your ancestors and the bright colored tapestries, making the tall, cold stone walls appear warmer and more welcoming. Never letting go of the girl’s hand, who you just met that day.

        Staring of out of an old tainted window you saw burning towers crumbling, your head couldn’t wrap around how they could’ve gotten here already, everything seemed fine yesterday until the letter arrived saying that they were coming for you too, after all these years. Why were they here already? You were supposed to have more time. She said you were safe for at least a bit longer.

Natasha pulled you through the stable, loud screams and heartbreaking sounds of destruction, mixed with the battle cries of falling soldiers fighting for your safety sent shivers down your spine, your chest rising and falling fast. It was overwhelming, a few tears falling down down your cheeks, mixing with the blood of small cuts you didn’t even notice till your tears hit them. Leaning against the wall of the stable your legs gave out, you sank down to the floor and buried your head between your legs. Trying to breathe in the air around you, filled with smoke and dust, you coughed a few times. Natasha quickly rushed over to you, one of her hands on your back. Her other one covered her face with a cloth, trying to protect herself from the smoke and dirt. Helping you stand up again you could hear her voice muffled by the cloth.

 “Come on we gotta get out of here” she said, grabbing your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I know a place we can lay low in for a while, until all this settles a bit okay?” she cupped your face, her thumbs softly wiped away your tears, dust particles clinging to your skin. You send the redhead a small smile, signaling her that you were gonna be fine, as she pulled you towards the horses. You watched as she quickly got the horse ready to leave, her hands worked fast and precise, after so many years of doing it perfecting the task. Natasha's swift movement was almost mesmerizing, your eyes never left her, in an attempt to dismiss the feeling of loss, that sat deep in your gut. Sitting down on the horse she held her arm out for you, you quickly grabbed it before she pulled you onto the horse’s back. Perplexed by how she managed to pull you up so effortlessly, despite her always being fairly small. Thinking further into it, you didn’t know why you were surprised.

 Running after her, you could only see a faint bit of her red hair disappearing behind an old tall grown tree. Running after her you saw her smiling down on you from the first branch, shooting a smile back at her before you quickly climbed after her, the smile never leaving your face. Branch after branch the tree never seemed to end, while Natasha seemed to effortlessly, almost fly? Up the tree, her movements were mesmerizing. You didn’t even notice her grip on your arm, until she pulled you up the last few branches with her to a small platform at the top of the tree. Clinging to the now thinner branches you didn’t dare to look down, you could feel the big tree move with the wind dancing across the large forest beneath you. Pressing your eyes shut, while gripping onto the tree you slowly stood up on the platform. Still clutching to the tree, you could feel Natashas arms sneaking your waist and her hands finding yours, slowly loosening them from the tree, opening your fists. “Don’t worry, nothing will happen to us here” Natasha whispered into your ear, as her hand gently played with your fingers, feeling the soft breeze run through them, as her other arm pulled you closer to her. A few shivers ran down your spine, your muscles tensing up, as you opened your eyes more and more. Natashas fingers slowly tracing yours, it felt as if small fireworks went of wherever she touched your hand even ever so slightly, sending a warmth through your whole body, despite the cool air surrounding you. Feeling a bit more at ease you let yourself sink more into Natashas embrace, safe and warm in her arms your smile from earlier returning.

A small smile making its way onto your face at the memory, you softly chuckle at the moment lying in the past, only to be brought back to reality by the redhead pulling you towards her onto the horse. You could only grip her waist, before she ordered the horse to run of into the cold unknown of the woods in front of you. The barn behind you began to collapse as soon as you made your way through the tall doors. pillars falling over, the ceiling crashing onto the ground, covering everything with dust and broken pieces of wood, soon to be burning down when the flames reached the piles. 

Tightly gripping onto Natasha, you could feel the cold air of the night rushing through your hair. The deep, hollow almost far away sounding clopping of the hooves mixing with the rustling of the leaves on the ground. The trees around you became more frequent, you were still following a path Natasha seemingly knew blindly. The light of the remaining fires slowly dying down as you left them behind you, the air surrounding you growing colder each second, making shivers run down your spine, whilst you scooted closer to the redhead. Following the path further into the forest the trees grew taller and the leaves thicker, until there was no light shining through them, except the small lantern Natasha light up earlier. You followed the path till it lost itself in the woods, no other paths insight Natasha skillfully maneuvered through the trees. 

You didn’t dare to speak up, afraid your voice might shake or that someone, or something could hear you. The leaves above you rustling you could swear you saw a shadow, glide through the crowns of the trees near on your foot. Turning around, you could hear whispers all around, but no one was there. 

You leaned forward you whispered “Nat, I think someone following us” 

“I know,” the redhead said, giving you a slight nod. Looking around you again, the whispers slowly turned into faces, but not those of humans. Their faces all seemed almost identical, they were shimmering as if they were covered in metal, their eyes empty and mouths thin-lined, dark robes were covered their bodies. Your eyes grew wide, when realized how many of them were there, you mumbled under your breath for Natasha to go faster and you didn’t have to tell her twice.

The two of you hurried through the never-ending forest the creatures never seemed to end either. More and more appeared right behind you, their gloved hands reaching out for you, getting closer as each minute passed.

An everlasting panic seemed to have settled into your chest by now, your hands shaking, you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or from the cold that surrounded you.

One of the hands reached forward suddenly grabbing your coat, the same second a knife flew just centimeters past you, hitting the hand that reached for you, throwing your followers back for a second. Still in shook, you couldn’t move, knives flying through the air, hitting the mysterious attackers, one by one being knocked down, but more seemed to appear once a few were tackled down.

Grabbing onto Natashas sword, you pulled it out of its holster with one swift motion. Not being prepared for the weight of the weapon you yelped out a “shit” before you pulled yourselves up on the horse properly.

Swinging the sword you managed to hit a few of your followers, helping the mysterious assassins flying knives.

The forest still didn’t seem to find an end, neither did the masked creatures. You tried to fight them off as best as possible. It felt like hours, your arms growing tired till they went over to burning pain.

With your arms almost numb, breathing through your gritted teeth, you aimlessly swung the sword around, the adrenalin pumping through your veins being the only thing keeping you going in that moment. Just before exhaustion was about to take over you pulled the sword up so it wouldn’t fall.

Wrapping your arms around Natasha’s torso, stars appeared in front of your eyes, you quickly tried to shake the feeling of dizziness. You looked up, closing your eyes, as you tried concentrating on the air running through your hair, taking deep breaths. The cold fresh air of the night rushed into your lungs. Your throat scratching with an upcoming soreness, as the air entered your lungs.

After a few minutes, the dizzy spell went away. Slowly opening your eyes, still looking up you could see faint leaves above you, meaning you still haven’t left the woods behind you.

Looking around your attackers seemingly left or lurked somewhere in the shadows, one way or another you were glad u shook them off. Throwing a searching gaze into the heights of the trees for your mysterious helper, you suddenly locked eyes with the hooded assassin, their eyes following your, yet their face never showing, before you disappeared into the darkness of the night, finally leaving the dark forest behind you.

reblogs are apprechiated<33

taglist: @imnotasuperhero​ @aaron-despair​ @natasha-danvers​ @marvels-writings​ @mrs-avenger3000​ @xxromanoffxx​ @yeeterthekeeper​ @b-5by5​ @sanguine-saber​ @hushed-woodsman​ @lenalex78​

[theeslytherinslut]

The Perpetual Freak (2/?)

Ch 2: Aboard the Hogwarts Express

Pairings: Sirius Black x reader, Marauders x reader Warnings: none, slight language (but that's for every chapter rlly) Word Count: 3,108

As if on cue, you heard a knock at the door just as your foot touched down onto the landing. The sound of quick, heeled footsteps sounded immediately after; Grandmother briskly coming down the hall followed by the slower steps of Blakely as he surely wanted to gaze curiously at your friends.

“Prongs!” you breathed upon seeing James, smiling fondly at the messy mop of black hair atop your friend's head.

“Twitchy!” he smiled back, opening his arms in greeting. You wasted no time in falling into them, smiling into his chest as his hug signaled the true return to Hogwarts.

“Mrs. Killianis,” James said, suddenly formal as he looked to your severe grandmother behind you. Following his gaze, you saw her eyes narrowing as Sirius and Remus all but fell out of the car, Peter’s wheezing laughter following them out.

You smiled fondly after them as Remus brushed the dirt from his knees, frowning up at Sirius. Sirius grinned back and ran a hair through his raven black hair, brushing it from his eyes.

“Hello, Mrs. Killianis,” Sirius said, his voice taking on a tone you’d never heard before. You and James glanced warily at each other.

“Hello, boys,” she said stiffly, her eyes now staring rudely at the scars littering Remus’ exposed skin.

Remus cleared his throat, clearly catching your grandmother's eyes. “Shall we get your trunk then?” he said, clapping his hands together as he smiled at you.

You offered him a sympathetic smile and pushed an apology into his head at your grandmother’s rudeness.

“That’d be great, Moony, thanks.” you nodded. Peter followed him up into your room dutifully. After a moment or two, you heard what sounded like a reprimanding noise followed by a sharp smack and idly wondered what was going on.

“I suppose you’ll be staying at the school for the Holidays again, yes? Blakely and I were planning a trip,” Grandmother said suddenly--it didn’t take a genius to figure out you weren’t invited.

“Definitely,” you answered briskly. The choice between a Hogwarts Christmas with the boys and a visit to Grandmother's sister’s house in the States with Blakely was a no-brainer.

“Lovely thing Hogwarts does, providing a home for the holidays,” James grinned, putting an emphasis on ‘home.’ Grandmother lowered her eyes, but Remus and Peter were already coming down the stairs, hauling your heavy trunk between them.

“Bloody hell, Twitch,” Remus huffed, blowing his thin brown hair out of his eyes, “What’d you pack?”

“Mind your tongue, boy,” Grandmother snipped as the two of them passed through the front door. “You won’t behave like the heathens that you are in my presence.”

“Er, right,” Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes and laughing under his breath. “C’mon, Twitch, don’t want to be late.”

Eager to leave the situation, you quickly followed the boys out and made your way into the baking heat. Just as they made to load your trunk, you clucked your tongue as Peter fumbled his end and dropped it roughly into the undoubtedly magically enhanced trunk.

“Sorry,” Peter winced, rubbing his hands together in an anxious sort of way.

“S’Alright Wormtail. Now, shall we get a move on, then?” James said, using his wand to swing open the car door for you. You heard your grandmother let out a small gasp, and Blakely took a step back. As most parents took the time to drop their children off at Platform 9 3/4, the journey there was generally a sort of grace period if you wanted to use magic; the Ministry wouldn’t take the time to differentiate each use of magic on this day between parents and students. Per wizarding law, they'd never seen magic as you didn’t use it during your time here--aside from your special gift.

“Please,” you said, turning to leave without glancing back.

“You aren’t going to say goodbye?” you heard Remus ask. You turned to answer him before you slipped into the car, but he wasn’t talking to you.

“Excuse me?” Grandmother said, clearly affronted he was saying anything more than ‘hi’ and ‘bye.’

“Honestly, Moony, just let it alone,” Sirius moaned as he made his way back out of the car to gather him.

“You aren’t going to see your granddaughter for 9 months, surely you’re going to at least say goodbye?” Remus pressed on, equally affronted. Sirius took a step closer to his friend, and you saw your grandmother’s eyes fall upon the several tattoos that already littered his arms; Sirius lived to upset his family, and tattoos were such a Muggle form of rebellion it only bolstered his point.

Her eyes then fell to the both of their wands, which were gripped tightly in their hands, and let out a breath she’d been holding. Lowering her eyes but acquiescing nonetheless, she sighed.

“Goodbye, then,” she said stiffly, nudging Blakely, who was locking eyes with a mischievous looking Sirius. Glancing behind Blakely’s head, you saw a dish hovering dangerously above his head and looked to see Sirius' wand pointed right at it. Rolling your eyes, you pushed the dish back with your own and threw a knowing grin at Sirius.

“Naughty, naughty boy,” you said silently. He grinned back boyishly at you and threw you a wink.

“See you next summer,” Blakely allowed, lowering his eyes at you and grinning in an awful sort of way. You could’ve sworn you heard a growl on your right and found Remus glaring at Blakely, who swallowed harshly and disappeared back into the house. At that, you slipped into the front seat next to James, the rest of the boys piling into the backseat, Remus scolding Sirius for shoving Peter out of the way to get in first. Fondly, you smiled and listened to them bicker.

“Merlin, glad that’s over.” Remus shook his head as James smoothly pulled away from the house. “Don’t know how you do it all summer.”

“Aw, what’s the matter, Moony? Not a big fan of familial tension, are we? I think it’s rather quite nice; reminds me of home,” Sirius said with a fake voice of longing. James looked through the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes at Sirius.

“Muggles giving you hell again?” Peter squeaked from the backseat, grabbing the head of your seat and leaning up towards you.

He’d always been a mousy boy, but after his first successful transformation, his commonalities with his Animagi only became more pronounced.

“When do they not, Wormtail?” you laughed, throwing a gum wrapper at him playfully as you popped a piece into your mouth.

“Ooh, is that gum?” Sirius asked, peering over your shoulder from the backseat.

“Yes, but it’s Muggle-gum.” you reminded him.

“Bit boring, but it’ll do. Jamesy won’t let me smoke in the car,” Sirius sneered, looking amusedly at an annoyed-looking James in the mirror.

“It smells! Isn’t my fault Dad has the nose of a bloody hound,” he defended, looking disgruntled at the thought of being a do-gooder.

“Good ol’ Fleamont, what a chap,” Sirius laughed, spreading out on the backseat and draping his arm along the seats. He reached and affectionately gave Remus’ hair a tussle, jostling Peter in the process, who grinned.

“So, now that we’ve all been reminded how horrible my lovely grandmother is, how was everybody else’s Holiday?” you asked as James drove the car expertly around the busy London streets--Muggle driving was a skill he was particularly proud of.

“Oh, you know, wonderful as always. Mother only threatened to have me disenfranchised and disgraced twice this year, so that’s a mark better than last Holiday.” Sirius laughed, blowing bubbles with his gum but frowning in disappointment when they popped.

“Didn’t you go to Prongs’ early this year?” you asked, remembering James’ letter that Sirius had arrived a few weeks into break.

“Yeah, don’t know why the evil hag insists on having me around anyway. All she does is dote on Regulus and send the nearest object flying at my head. Don’t even get me started on Kreacher...I don’t think I’ll go back next year.” a dark look came over his features, and you found yourself staring at him.

“What?” you asked, shocked at the nonchalant tone of his serious words.

“Yeah, I didn’t so much go to Prongs’ early this year as I did run away,” he said, looking slightly sheepish as you looked accusingly at him.

“What? What happened? Why didn’t you tell me?” you gasped, turning in the front seat entirely to glare at him.

“Dunno, I mean, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” he shrugged.

“Well, go on then, tell me more,” you insisted.

“Just more of the same Twitch. You don’t understand,” he paused, and his usual carefree, light demeanor vanished and was taken over by a dark cloud that seemed to fill the car. “That house, it’s like a black hole. It swallows you whole. It’s like a bloody residential dementor. Every decent thought you have gets sucked into the black wallpaper, every horrible thought you’ve ever had on repeat, magnified. I can’t breathe in that house; they’re all so cozy, so comfortable in that dark, that evil. The Noble House of Black, it’s killing me slowly, draining the life out of me.”

He seemed aware of how much he was saying, how serious he’d gotten, because, at the end of the little speech, he let out a deep breath and forced a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck subconsciously.

“Nothing like Prongs’ here, for example,” he grinned up at his friend, who shot him one from the mirror.

“I mean, you basically already lived there,” James shrugged. “Besides, Mum was thrilled--you know, I think she likes you better than me sometimes.”

“Oh, she definitely does, mate. Euphemia and me? Kinda besties,” Sirius grinned, and the dark cloud dispersed. You found yourself staring at Sirius, chest full of emotion. The quickness with which he dismissed himself was almost worse.

“And, Moony? How was yours?” James asked, filling the silence.

“Decent, I suppose. Though I’ve almost worked my way through every decent book worth reading at the library closest to home, all the rest are the silly little Muggle books in that dingy section they have in the back...though I started reading this one called the ‘Bible’; Merlin does it tell some truly fantastic tales...whales eating people, turning water to wine, healing the blind--this Jesus bloke even rose from the dead! I reckon he was some type of early wizard or something, don’t know how the Muggles don’t...” he trailed off while the rest of you shared knowing glances. Moony was prone to monologues full of on-the-spot thinking, constantly prattling on about something he’d read in some book.

“You’re doing it again,” you shot a meaningful look at Remus, who blushed scarlet at your mental words and trailed off.

“Hey, no fair!" Sirius whined from the back seat at you. "I wanted to see where he was going with that. There definitely could’ve been something in there well worth making fun of!”

“Opportunity missed, Padfoot.” James hissed in sympathy at his friend, smiling at him in the rearview mirror.

“You all leave Moony alone. Just because he gets abnormally excited about really obscure Muggle things doesn’t mean we get to make fun of him for it,” you shot a smile at Remus in the back seat, who rolled his eyes but nonetheless smiled around sheepishly.

“How was your summer, James?” Peter asked from the backseat, leaning up hopefully.

“Alright, my parents set up a little Quidditch pitch in the back; Sirius got his arse handed to him a couple times,” James smirked, throwing a playful grin at his best friend in the backseat.

Wormtail laughed gleefully at James’ story as he described a match while Sirius sat up indignantly, poised to argue.

“I’m a Keeper, Potter. Not a sodding Seeker. Not too quick to tell everyone how miserable you were at trying to get the Quaffle in, though, are you?” Sirius quipped from the backseat.

“Down, boy. We all know how great of a Keeper you are, wouldn’t have won that last match against Ravenclaw without you..” you pushed into Sirius’ head, stroking his bruised ego. He met your eyes in the rearview and smirked up at you, clearly appeased by your comment. Lounging lazily once more in the roomy backseat, he turned to Peter.

“What about you, Wormtail? Your Holiday good?” Sirius said, cocking his head at his friend with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“S’alright..” he trailed off, looking around nervously as Sirius grinned at him.

“Really? Didn’t miss having Prongs’ arse to kiss?” he sneered at his friend, who blushed and stuttered.

“Let him alone, Pads,” Remus smiled at his friend from across the seats.

Just as the boys began to bicker more harshly, James pulled into the parking lot at Kings Cross, and the group of you piled out of the car.

“Wormtail, go find us a trolley,” Sirius said, and with a wave of his hand, Peter was gone.

“Obedient little bugger, isn’t he?” Remus said praisingly, rubbing his chin.

“Why d’you think he’s made it this long?” Sirius laughed, lifting his trunk out of the car as Peter came wheezing around with the trolley.

“I’ve got it, Y/N,” Peter said, exerting tremendous effort to lift your trunk until Remus saw him and reached in to help.

“Thanks, Peter...always so helpful.” you pushed to him in thanks. You saw him blush violently and smile to himself.

Your gift had taught you many things, but perhaps above all: people were so easily manipulated, one well-timed compliment, and it could send a person fawning. Though you weren’t shy to use it to your advantage, it was lucky a person of your moral stature had the gift. It could be so easily used...perhaps it was thoughts like these that led to the Sorting Hat’s consideration of your placement in Slytherin.

Half an hour later, your trunks were placed in the train's storage carriages, and the group of you were lounging in a compartment, your various pets making random noises as they settled in for the long train ride.

Jinx hooted sleepily in his cage before lifting his wing and drifting off to sleep. Sirius’ handsome jet-black Screech Owl, BamBam, seemed to take a cue from Jinx and buried his head into his wing as well. They almost resembled salt and pepper shakers as they stood next to one another in direct contrast. To most everyone's intense surprise, Remus’ pet was a fluffy siamese cat named Cleo. Unsurprising, however, was Peter’s choice of a pet rat named Nibbles. Though, Nibbles was on his last leg--most common rats only lived a couple of years, and Nibbles had been with Peter since first year.

“What’re you doing?” Peter asked, sitting up interestedly in his seat as Sirius drew out his wand and flung open the compartment door.

“Having some fun,” Sirius shrugged, the grin you all loved so much donning his face. James watched his friend and broke into a smile; Peter seemed to be struggling to sit still with excitement; even Remus peered over the top of his book to watch.

Fully aware he was holding all of your attention, Sirius pointed his wand at the wall opposite your door.

“Carpe Retractum,” Sirius said, and a length of rope came spouting out at the end of his wand. “Bollocks...what’s that one to get something to stick to something else?” he asked into the compartment after a moment.

“Epoximise,” Remus answered from behind his book once more, seemingly having seen everything he needed to.

“Right, cheers, Moony,” Sirius smiled and did the incantation, sticking the other end of the rope to the wall. Pulling on his wand, he seemed to test his theory and smiled in success as the rope pulled taught--effectively making a tripwire.

“Very nice,” you complimented, to which you received a playful little bow of his head.“Might I suggest something, though?”

“By all means, Twitch,” Sirius said, gesturing to the tripwire.

“Omnino dissimulare,” you spoke, pointing your wand at the length of rope. As the white beam of light hit it, the rope disappeared from view, and you smiled triumphantly. You’d been working hard on that one towards the end of last term and were worried you’d have to start over with the holiday break.

“Excellent!” Peter cheered, clapping wildly at the two of you.

“Where’d you learn that?” Remus said, finally putting his book down and looking at you curiously.

“Been working on it for a bit. Found it in a book Madam Pince let me take home last Christmas,” you answered, feeling a bit smug that you’d impressed Remus.

“Pince let you take home books?” Remus said, incredulous.

“You know she pities me,” you laughed, waving a hand. “Though, she did threaten to turn me inside out if there was so much a creased page--so only marginally.”

“Wait, wait!” Sirius called, pointing to the door excitedly; Peter was positively quivering.

A group of already-robed Slytherins came strolling past your window, and you smiled in anticipation. At the last second, Sirius jerked his wrist and tightened the rope, sending the group of Slytherins sprawling across the floor.

The group of you exploded into laughter, and they all got to their feet, whipping their wands out, looking for a culprit. Given the rope was invisible, however, they found no such thing and resigned to giving the group of you ugly looks before grumping off.

“Oh, very good, Padfoot,” Peter simpered, laughing heartily as tears of joy rolled down his plump cheeks.

“A little juvenile,” Remus scolded, smiling ruefully at his friends, “But funny. However, as a Prefect, I am not to indulge in such behavior and as such must sincerely reprimand you.”

“Most eloquently spoken, dear Moony. Tell me, does being a Prefect mean you have to be just a bit of a prat on principle?” James asked his friend, painting a serious look on his face as Sirius and Peter erupted into laughter. You let out a small giggle as Remus blushed slightly and put down his book.

“Well, you should sure as hell hope not,” Remus began, smiling mischievously at his friend. “Imagine fawning after Lily Evans for years, at her often utter disgust, only for her to end up being a prat. Talk about unfortunate, mate.”

The group of you were in stitches over Remus’ response, and even James let out a laugh.

“Touche, Moony. Touche,” he laughed, shaking his finger at Remus in a playful manner. A warm feeling spread through you; you were so happy to finally be going home.

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

Taglist: @whiskeypowder

[amusedyan]

Monthly Meetings

A Peaky Blinders commission!

Words: 2k

Once a month there was a meeting. It was something dreaded by both parties, but one that was necessary- it was neutral territory, where mutual suggestions were discussed, grievances were gone over and business settled. No one officially came armed- but that was never written into the deal. Just like it wasn’t discussed that both parties came with a small coterie of their most trusted, each eyeing the other and waiting for a twitchy trigger finger.

Tommy Shelby was never on time to any meeting.

He came early when he was the one to suggest it- to get the drop on the other person, to make an impression. You waste my time, and you have no right to ask anything of me, was the goal there. When told to meet someone, he always made it a point to arrive 5 minutes late, because you aren’t worth my time.

This meant that meeting Alfie Solomons put him in an uncomfortable position- he had to come on time. And sometimes Alfie was there already, smug, or sometimes Alfie was late and dismissive about it, but with a stack of papers and grievances to make up the difference.

Tommy was continually unimpressed with the Jewish mobster, though you could color him surprised when word got out through the grapevine that Alfie Solomon had started going steady with some bird from the local flower shop.

He’d never figure him to be one to settle down, but those same rumors claimed that he ws continually trailing after her. Considering how…temperamental his associate could be, Tommy could believe it.

When Alfie actually entered the restaurant, Tommy reflected that the rumors must be true because the man was practically glowing. More importantly though, his usual stack of gripes was noticeably absent.

“Tommy-boy!” The man grunted, taking his seat at the table. There was already whiskey poured- courtesy of Tommy, of course.

“Alfie,” Tommy greeted, watching the man settle.

It was such a waste of his time to come here, and it took active work not to lose his temper about it. He could be home now

“So, to business. Would you like to begin?” Tommy offered magnanimously.

Alfie drank from his glass and winced at the taste. “Shit, that is,” he mused, shaking his head. “How’ve you been, Tommy? How’s life treated you?”

Suspicion colored Tommy’s thoughts. What was Solomons up to? Small talk wasn’t part of the meeting, ever. As if reading his thoughts, Alfie chuckled. “Don’t be like that, Shelby. I’ve been advised to try diplomacy.”

“By your new conquest?” Tommy countered. The expression on Alfie’s face closed off, and no longer was he looking at a man blatantly in love and feeling charitable to the whole world for it. It made things much easier to deal with. But a moment later, a sly smile crept across Alfie Solomon’s face, and Tommy wasn’t much fond of that expression.

“You’d know all about conquests, wouldn’t you, Tom?” Alfie folded his hands across his midsection and leaned back against his seat, leveling Tommy with a look just as cold.

Fury unfolded, and beside that, fear. What did that mean? Who had talked?

Chuckling, Alfie waved it off. “Now, there’s no need for that look, my good man. There’s been whispers, same as there have been for me. About a pretty girl. What’s her name?”

“We aren’t here to discuss women, Alfie.” Tommy said flatly, trying not to growl. From the corner of his eye, he could see Finn watching intently. He was waiting for a signal. No, he needed to reign it in.

Alfie was just intent on pushing his buttons though, grinning broadly, damn near leering at Tommy. “Well, her name’s Margaret.” His finger drummed against the glass, the ring he was wearing clinking methodically. “I doubt her name’s in your network, yeah? Every fucking thing else, but not that.” He shook his head. “Beautiful name.” And there was that lovesick look again.

“Is that all?” Tommy asked. What would it take to get the meeting back on track? Alfie eyed him, and reached into his coat-

Finn and Isaiah were drawing their guns, Alfie’s men were responding-

“SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” Alfie boomed, stilling the room. Tommy saw that what he’d withdrawn was his wallet.

“What are you planning, Solomons?” He asked, withdrawing a cigarette from his case.

The Camden bastard rolled his eyes and withdrew a photo. “Here,” he grunted, “have a look at this.” He handed it over to Tommy.

And honestly the last thing that Tommy expected to see was the image of a young woman posing for the camera. Rather lewdly, to put it mildly. Like a whore if you wanted to be blunt.

“My Margaret,” pride dripped from Solomons’ voice, like he hadn’t just shown off the parts of a woman that only her husband would see.

Tommy weighed his answers- would Solomons light up with fury if he complimented the woman? Or would he be offended if he didn’t? The trouble was that you never knew with him. He took a contemplative drag of his cigarette.

“Lovely,” he settled on.

Alfie scowled. “Oh like yours is any better,” he taunted. “C’mon, let’s see ‘er then.”

“I don’t have pictures of my woman on me, Alfie.” Tommy said, unable to stop the slight condescension from creeping into his tone, like he was talking to a child, or else someone very simpleminded.

“Well why the fuck not? How’m I s’posed to know if this woman exists, eh?” Alfie accused, smacking the table.

This was all very confusing honestly. What the hell was he playing at? “I didn’t claim she was real.”

“What man doesn’t have a picture of the woman he loves?”

“What man carries filthy pictures of his?”

“Oi mate, those are fuckin art!” Alfie argued with surprising vehemence. It was a strange hill to make a stand on, but hey, he could relate.

“Whatever you say, Alfie,” Tommy sighed and blew out another cloud of smoke.

It was raining now. Storm clouds had been gathering all of yesterday, and he’d been able to taste the moisture, along with the filth in the city air. Rain was ugly here, didn’t clean a fuckin’ thing. He found himself thinking, longingly of the estate. The Shelby Estate, a grander name than something like Arrow House. But little things like a name change kept your feet on the ground. Sylvia would be there, reading. It was raining, so she couldn’t ride today.

At first she’d hated being in the house. She’d wanted to be back in Birmingham. Always liked the action, wanted to support him. It had been charming before, but now that they were together, it couldn’t be tolerated. Too many risks.

“Are you fucking ignoring me, Tommy-boy?” Alfie’s voice was dangerous now, angry and short. Shit. He stubbed out the remains of his smoke in the ashtray.

“No, Alfie, I’m not ignoring you,” he said on the exhale. Clearly, he reflected, nothing was going to get done with this meeting. It was a shame, but at least that meant things were secure where they stood.

Either Solomons was happy or about to betray him again.

“So, I’ve told you about my Margaret, tell me about your girl.” Alfie ordered, pouring another drink.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Tom said, but at the disbelieving look on Alfie’s face, he shrugged slightly.

“I just don’t understand how a man can have a woman and not want to talk about her. Obviously you’ve heard how proud I am, but you? Are you ashamed?” It sounded like it was amusing- the idea that Tommy Shelby would be ashamed of anything in his life.

But the idea of being ashamed of Sylvia? That struck a nerve and that pissed him off properly.

“I’m not ashamed of her.” He snapped.

Alfie’s grin was positively disgusting. “So she does exist? Well, come now, what’s her name?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he spoke begrudgingly, “Sylvia.”

“Sylvia, aye.” He nodded, turning it over. “She a gypsy like you?”

“No. She is not a gypsy.” Eye contact was key. “It wouldn’t matter either way.”

“So why don’t you talk about her? I could talk all day about mine, as I’m sure that you’ve noticed,” of course he had. “You move her in yet?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Tommy mocked, making Alfie roll his eyes.

“Neither of us are gentlemen, Tom, no matter how you fuckin’ pretend. I moved Margaret in almost right away, you know? We just, we just had this connection- I saw her and I wanted her. Sent her gifts every day, came into the store when I could- her smiles, they lit up my fuckin’ life.”

“I’ve never known you to be so open about your business, Alfie. Aren’t you worried that someone might overhear?” It wasn’t a threat, not at all, not for once. This hit a little too close to home for it to be anything more than idle curiosity, and luckily Solomons knew it.

“No, mate. I need her to know how much I love her. And I need other people to know. Because if someone thinks that they can hurt her? I will…” he laughed, and it didn’t sound sane at all, but it didn’t bother Tommy, “well fuck, I think I’d burn the fuckin’ city down. But,” and he looked at Tommy, and that affable, unstable mask came off for a moment, and Tommy was looking at the emptiness that came from the war, the same emptiness in every soldier who’d been in the field, “but I think you know that, don’t you Tom?” He sighed and shook his head. “I figured, hell, if anyone on this Earth knew what I felt- how far I’d go- it’d be you.. And you do, don’t you?”

Tommy thought about Sylvia. He always thought about Sylvia.

He did horrible things on a daily basis. What would he do if something happened to her?

And the thing was, Tommy didn’t even need to ask himself that question. He’d known the moment that he’d seen her what he’d do for her, what he’d already done. She was safe, that was what he told himself, she was under constant watch, by men he trusted, where he didn’t need to worry about someone running off with her, or an accident, or any of the things that could take her away.

“And you just keep her in an apartment?” He muttered.

“How else would I see her?” Alfie countered evenly. “I take it you don’t?”

Tommy didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to, not in the context of the question.

“No, no, the way I see it, it’s better that I can keep an eye on ‘er. I get to come home to a nice meal, lovely company, and everyone knows what’ll happen if they fuck with her. You keep yours,” and he pointed at his business associate, “in some isolated fuckin’ kingdom and what happens? People get curious. You can’t see her as often. She goes missing. There’s no fuckin’ neighbors to pay to keep watch.” And hell, that was actually a very good point, but he didn’t want to hear that from Solomons.

“Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Oh I fuckin’ disagree, mate. You don’t get that shit in hand-“

“And what might happen, Solomons?” Tommy asked calmly. He knew what this was- this was Solomons trying to knock him off his game, disturb him. And why? What the hell did Solomons have up his sleeve? “What are you planning?”

“Well I dunno mate.” The glass in Solomons’ hand was empty now, “what do you think I’m planning?”

“I think you’re just being a prick.” The other man barked out a laugh.

“Fair enough, so- grievances.”

And there it was.

When it was over, Tommy went over the meeting- all of it, bullshit included- in his head, thinking it over.

Alfie Solomons was a two faced bastard.

But Tommy found himself making plans to go visit Sylvia as a surprise, nonetheless.

[smoll-ratt]

Dr.Junkenstein X Maid!Reader

Part Five:

——————————————————————————

While laying in your sleep you began to stir. A headache began to fall upon you and you softly opened your eyes before they rolled back into their sockets. Taking a deep breath you turned onto your back and sighed, gently stretching your legs as an attempt to find comfort. You swam inside the cloths that kept you warm as a chill crept it's way up your torso. It was an uncomfortable and unwelcoming sensation, as if  the very hands of death were holding onto you, caressing your body.

There was a light tug at your leg and you stirred with a murmur. Then followed another tug, more aggressive than the first. In a daze you stretched your arm to cover your leg, but came to find that the soft touch of your blanket was nowhere to be found. Your tried again, annoyed and on your back, searching both sides of your frame with your eyes still shut. The dark shadows of strain and decay travelled further up your leg and pulled once again with such forces that you were physically dragged down to the end of your bed. You gasped in the dark, shooting straight up with your struggling eyes, but with nothing to see, and a headache most painful, you fell back asleep.

There was a fog during the night, traveling through any crevasse it could slither through, stalking the halls for prey and dancing in the gardens before the sun began to rise. As much as you have slept in discomfort, the king did so as well. Almost knowingly aware of the stressor who had snuck their way through the castle walls.

The morning that followed was grey and crisp with cold air. Giant clouds of melancholy rolled over the sun and casted a harsh white light as they dominated the sky. A gloom was presently beginning to set before a dreadful winter would take its place with a slow shift of seasons where the leaves took their time to show it. Long before baring their place of home they blessed a sight of reds and yellows against the harsh monotones of the day. It was the sound of mourning doves which began to wake the people of the land and a stray ray of sunlight that woke you. In the middle of the room, closer to the door, the other maids dressed and chatted amongst themselves as you sat up in bed. Briefly one of the maids looked at you as you searched for the blanket which had gone missing through the night. Amongst the other beds in the room all other blankets remained tucked in nicely, but on top of the sick frame of the maid you've been caring for, laid your warm blanket cruelly resting there. That morning and for the proceeding three days.

"Don't be bothered, the ma'm is sick." One of the maids called out. "No one else wanted to give up their blanket."

"I can see that." You responded.

"Can you now? Don't get smart here, just ready up already for the day."

The maid shared a look with another and continued to brush her hair as you sat your old white gown.

You listened to the orders given out that morning by a maid with chestnut hair in braids wrapping around the bottom of her head and in place for her white cap. Her voice was low and modulated as she spoke to her gathering. You thought back on the sick woman resting behind everyone at the opposite side of the room. Barely motionless with no change in comparison to when she began taking the medicine you've given her. A steady, slow recovery, and fading fever.

"Anything not assigned means you'll continue yesterday's work as perusal. Lena, Amelie, and myself will be assisting rounds in the castle alongside the laundry maids."

You fiddled with the sleeves of your uniform, adjusting it so the sleeves fit nicely on top of the under layer added to combat the weather.

"Eventually we'll need travels to the fair and work in the gardens. Y/N instead of caring for the women return back anon and join those in the gardens nearby."

You gave a silent nod as a reply without turning your attention away from your sleeve.

Many gardens were hidden within the castle walls, unique to its custom design. The main court yard was what you could see out of the castle from the servants area opposite to the hall you were walking upon. Beyond that; stairs, much like the one you hated, stretched up into a hall - officially part of the castle on the left side of the garden.

Once venturing through the castle, down the decorative halls aligned with glorious overpowering windows sided with thick solid curtains, pass the familiar throne room, and ball room dorned in glistening objects, would one arrive to a series of doors. Libraries, studies, and most importantly guest rooms guarded by rich cherry wood.

Then there is a return to those stairs which mainly separated the two sections of the castle. The main castle and the servant living quarters.

As the main castle had one large garden outside of the ballroom with a small division of another -separated by a flowered arch- the extension of the castle and servant area had several less intricate gardens. They held their beauty satisfying yourself and the other maids who enjoyed the gardens' minimal beauty but they didn't amount to the glory outside of the ballroom.

You yawned passing the kitchen hearing a brief commotion as they began breakfast for the king and a tiny squeak as a little thing darted passed your feet. Down the hall, the torch by the scientist's door was out and remained dark.

To your left you entered the garden space. A large rectangular plot of land where the grey light in the sky blinded you momentarily. A few maids were already working on some rose bushes as others trickled in from behind you. Instead of cleaning up some sticks blown over from the wind last night or trimming some hedges by the benches seated at both ends of the garden, you sat in the middle of garden where smaller flowers were being planted and weeded.

"These aren't going to survive long" you pointed out to the gardening maid. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"The rose bushes is where you should help." She waved her gloved hand at you.

"Very well, but it's getting colder and-" she cut you off with another wave.

The roses stared at you with sad dry petals, begging for forgiveness. The greens of their leaves curled and the only thing barley standing was the sharp thorns out against you as weeds peered out from the roses' base. You sighed.

You lifted one of the weeds for a better look and it pricked you with tiny thorns of its own. In continuing your work you discovered how deep the root of the weeds went, entangling themselves with the roots of the roses.

You dug your hands in the hearts of the weeds as a crow above head screeched.

All other maids in the garden looked up at the passing bird as you continued your work. The thorns, sharp and cold as both plants, dotted your hands. Scrapping your nails loaded with the uncomfortable sensation of dirt under them, the dirt rejected you, numbing the movement of your fingers. There was a strange feeling of nostalgia that came from the numbing pain in your hands. Picking at the ground while unknowingly listening to the older women who cared for you, shaming you in secret for not being capable to help around the castle. It was a memory or memoric sense after the events at the stairs where the unnerving presence of that women followed you through the twisted stair case. After you were pushed and shoved around in the hall as well. Sitting in the garden like now, you were planting small white flowers you didn't know the name to. The soil was also just as unwelcoming as it was now. You're throat dried at the memory.

There was crows above head calling that day, much like today. The maids ignored it then with a few muttered comments you couldn't quiet make out.

What was it they said?

It had been disapproving. A curse to someone.

Now all the women glared at the black bird as it landed behind you. The bird kept crying.

You swiped a tear from your face with your sleeve. You fought to remember that day. As you plucked the weeds your hands held themselves to close to the roses and a thorn etched itself into your skin. You raised your hand in the air, shaking it as a response to the sting but kept attending to the weeds. As if the deep cut signaled an acceptance to the scratched pain you continued aggressively, ignoring the thorns that kept digging into your skin. After creating a large hole you found the base of the plant. Tugging at it, you remembered when you were younger and had reached what you wanted to plant those white flowers.

When you had placed the small flowers and could feel something else aside from yourself move in the earth.

You patted the soil on top, closing the hole at the bottom of the roses and could still feel the rumbling and small vibration of something definitely moving through. For a closer look you leaned in to see the soil break, revealing a set of fingers. A hand reached out and grabbed your own hand which resided by the flowers. You screamed out, falling back at the horror with your heart racing in your ears.

You tore the weed from the soil and tossed it to the side, panting. You reached back but instead of your skin catching itself in its thorns the fabric of your sleeve held you back. You tugged and pulled at the roses until the same hand grabbed your wrist, it's flesh as cold as ice. Frantically you shook your arm but the hand pulled you in. Through the thorns, deep into the bush you were forced to see a face emerge out. Her eyes opened and you screamed again, freeing yourself and falling back onto someone else.

"Y/N!"

You stared at the face melting back into the rose bush as the murder's wings above head sounded almost directly beside you. In a distance, your name was called out again but the piercing dazed eyes of the bush stared back. Holding an opaque blue, you could see a slow movement of smoke dancing within them. The face sank in slowly and the thorns dragged on its skin drawing the deepest blood you have seen.

"Y/N" the maid called out again, grabbing at you arm and pulling you up. "Y/N you damn wench pay attention to me! Can't you hear me?" She dragged you to your feet and slapped your arm repeatedly, but as you were still in shock you paid no attention until she slapped you across your face.

The world fell silent once the slap of her hand grazed across your face with an echo. You could feel the gaze of the other maids working in the garden. From where the maid had hit you a stinging sensation arose. She held onto both of your arms but what she proceeded yelling at you was unclear. Your ears rang and the maid began to shake you. Before she could say anymore and react to your silent response you pushed her back. As she walked back to you with another raised hand you pushed her again with a following punch.

Now your knuckles stung and the world began to make a sound again. The ringing in your ears was slowly replaced with the yells of the other workers. The maid who stood with the one you had hit rushed up to you before you could continue to fight the one on the ground. She looked up at you with a snarl and pulled herself up. The maid intervening stood in front of you with her hands raised in protest. 

"Y/N" she called out as you tried to catch your breath. "Y/N, we needed you with the king!" As the other maids helped the one on the ground, with you, they stopped at the mention. "We need more help within the castle and need to have a conversation before an announcement was made. You weren't responding, you never  answer to Amelie. What is wrong with you?"

"She hit me."

"Because you were dreaming off again and scaring everyone. I understand you're strange, all the maids do, but Amelie is bleeding, look at your hand!" The maid grabbed the wrist of your aching hand before tossing it to the side. You looked around you and the entire garden had their eyes locked. You began to protest shakingliy with the staggered murmurs of "but " as you tried to recollect yourself.

Looking at your hands again in a confused daze you gained an odd sense of familiarity, not of the situation, but of the sight of blood on your hands.

They've hit you before, you acknowledge now. A forgotten history of some ill treatment.

You wiped your hands on your gown, hiding the stains of blood in its brown color.

"What does the king want?" You asked.

Amelie stood in front of you, annoyed and in pain. The other maids tended back to their business,  lending one ear out in case of anymore drama.

"There's plans for a celebration for the upcoming harvest. All the maids are to be involved but for the time being just a few. You, are needed to give updates about the madam."  She began leading the way down the wall of your work space to the second set of stairs in the area, parallel to the scientist's end of the hall way.

"I spoke out about how I've shared some of the care for our beloved madam but they still wish for you to be present."

Amelie groaned as the second maid assisted her up the stairs.

"I've mention that I've assisted myself, but there's more to it."

As you entered down a small hall that still held an outlook to the garden you were previously in, the three of you entered the castle officially once passing three smaller steps and the entrance of a gated door. The harshness of the grey light lit up the acoustic halls, emphasized by the echoing steps, as the grey light poured in similarly to the way rays of sun do without the golden colour. Inside this little bit of the castle the cold air trailed along behind you from the gated door. Now out sight or ear range from the others the second maid turned back at you for a quick look.

"We need a report from the doctor."

"And as you've been so kind to relieve the burden of stepping in his deranged space you can understand why we're turning to you-"

"As you fancy him and all," Amelie slapped the girl's shoulder with a laugh of her own. "Don't be so cruel," she insisted as you responded with an uncertain chuckle of your own while recollecting the encounters in your head.

You remembered the first instance you've seen him and how you felt. There was soft curiosity dwindling in the background until you had heard the miss matched steps of his missing leg. Your heart beat began pounding against your chest with an intensity that only rose when hearing the rejection from others. How carelessly they dismissed him as a character in a story told to scare one another. He presented an opportunity to really push the kingdom forward with time and the anger he possessed infested yourself. A passionate anger which correlated with appropriately attractive sharp features.

The curious thought of whether or not what the maids had said was right followed you throughout the castle as they continued to explain other preparation details until eventually they conversed amongst themselves only. With yourself outside of the conversation you  pondered on the idea until it was interrupted by the thundering bellied laugh of the king. You had known you had returned to the throne room where you had first seen the scientist when you heard the king and felt a busied energy that breathed life then what actually stood.  As you wouldn't converse with the king directly, you and the two other maids walked along the scene's edge to a man in dark brown clothing standing in the corner with a scrolled book at hand.

"Wynston, Y/N as requested."

"Ah yes, thank you," he read through his book again. You scanned the man again taking in his appearance, dark hair and beard, tidy brown fabrics, and polished shoes. He was of thicker stature, built surprisingly of muscle and fat that may be better fitted or common with the knights. Especially those of tired experience. Never once had you been this close to the man or address directly with importance, but due to your age it had been a matter of time for you to be brought up more. Still this, you betted, would be the minim of involvement.

"How is Mina progressing with her illness?" You eye the two maids. Amelie scowled.

"Slowly."  You responded.

"I assumed Jamison is not needed if you have control over it and the housemai-"

"Jamison?"

"Yes, Jamison."

The man continued his dialogue about the elder maid and a usual routine expected to take place to care for her until a dire instant calls to grab the scientist who now had a name.

'Jamison ' you thought, awe founded.

"For the harvest there'll be guests from a far staying in the company of his majesty so a division among the maids will be needed as well as isolation from Mina and those caring for her. I originally placed you three with Aria in care for Mina, but I can switch the positions between Aria and Amelie around," he turned to her, ripping a page from his book. "I'll have you in charge with Aria in creating some of the division amongst the appropriate classes. For now here is what I have arranged, tweak as fit."

"Y/N remains with Mina." Amelie spoke aloud as if to offend you secretly by keeping you at a distant from the party.

"Yes that's what I have written." Wynston reassured while distracted by another in need of his attention. "Y/N before its forgotten, what are the details with Mina?"

"Fever remains but she regained some colour. Can't actually tell if she's better at first glance,"

"Good. I'll need a report,"

"The girls informed me." You spoke out now with an internal desperation to see the scientist again.

"Then I'll leave you to your duties then and have you continue with the plans."

Wynston left the three of you and you followed the maids around as they discussed the given sheet of paper. You had half expected to remain with the sick maid and distant from the event as Amelie knew of your one incident with the stairs and mysterious guest. She had poked fun of you multiple times before after finding you pale and shaking. Then you thought back about the scientist's remark about the maids.

"Y/N, I don't believe Mina has received her turn of medicine. I was left to track that as Aria went to town. She said to mix the medicine with a soup as a trick remedy to lessen the taste."

You nodded and parted ways, relief to be alone and process what you had learned. You felt a strange disconnection almost always throughout your life in a comforting sense. A feeling of displacement but passing peace where moments like this, knowing his name as if it was a dark secret, grounded you. This state of mind drove you back into the throne room where the king still laughed with his order of chivalry; made out of a woman quiet liked by the kingdom, her father (the shortest person you may have ever seen) charged with constructing knights armour and weapons, and a male, age shown by his greying hair.

Heading through Wynston's exit you found yourself by the extended hall of rooms, armoury, and library just before the stairs of terror to the kitchen. You paused for a moment, peaking your head in to an empty labyrinth of books.

'Jamison' you thought.

You knew the library held a record of names to every soul that made up the kingdom. An archive of dates and ends, and locations of homes too. Maneuvering you're way through, you reached some wooden tables centred in the middle of the numerous shelves that exceeded your height. Three of them stood as two sectioned off to the side for privacy with crafted chairs waiting to seat you. On the third table, furthest from you and leading to the back of library, laid a book already open for your viewing and a chair pushed to the side. Unknown to yourself the scientist you were searching for had scurried moments prior before you could've caught sight of him. Though you hadn't known then that he was, there a suspicion which arose as you sat down and sworn to hear some movement behind the shelves away from you.

Turning the pages of the book you began reading the listed names. You expected all names were truly of belonging of those outside the walls as the only ones you could recognize were of those you encounter regularly, both personally and through others. Passing through the pages the order of chivalry caught your eyes:

'Brigitte, Torbjorn, Jack...'

Then the listed names of the maids:

‘Mina, Aria, Amelie, Lena, Hana ..."

Strangely as you reached the end of the list of recorded maids you noticed that you're  name wasn't listed.

You continued to turned the next page, eyebrow raised. The kitchen staff were listed, gardeners, outside help, all but yourself. As you examined the book closer you noted 'Jamison Junkenstein' wasn't listed amongst the villagers either. Turning the final pages, past a space saved for new birth, you came across you're own name imprinted on a thinner page separated from the rest by the remains of a ripped page.

Your first name was written in a different style of cursive , alone, with a start date and frighteningly an end date.

'Y/N……….1204-1209’

Stepping away in bewildered confusion, you heard the sound of a book falling on the carpeted ground. Turning behind you saw that there was nothing there and returned to the book. About two other thin pages proceeded the one with your name but they were left blank with no other name to read.

1204-1209

Another thump in the library caused you to snap back behind you to see the source of the sound. The aisle behind you again laid empty. Another sound and you froze, waiting to hear what would come next. Slowly, you made your way to the back and aisle beside your left and there laid a book fallen on the ground.

Picking it up, it read of some farm land on the outskirts of the village outside of the castle. You placed the book back in it's vacant spot on the shelf and walked to the next aisle where another book laid. As you stretched back up from retrieving the book you saw a glimpse of white and finally heard the muffle sounds of miss matched steps. With eyes wide of realization you ran in the same direction it fled. Each end you've reached you seen the same white turn the corner and raced to catch up.

"Jamison?" You called out. Your heart began to run down each aisle of books as they grew longer. "Jamison?" You called out again and the muffled steps stopped. You found yourself lost in a labyrinth of books. Not once did you come across the table again and as you looked around you realized you have lost your complete sense of direction. Walking down one more aisle the sound of steps and fabric rubbing against itself picked up and this time you caught the glimpse of the scientist's purple glove as he ran off. Out in a sprint you fought to catch up, calling out his name repeatedly. With one last push you turned one final corner and could hear the man's breathing, even a giggle of sorts. But as you sped around the corner you met the ends of two shelves and a blank wall. Dr. Junkenstien was gone.

The library untwisted itself and you found yourself not far from where you started. The book still laid open but away from your name and at the end of the chivalry's list, now short due to a newly ripped page. You grabbed the book and proceeded to place it back into a vacant spot on the shelf where another one, above the shelf you had placed your book, stood. Wether or not Junkenstien had taken it was a mystery to you as you would've heard his steps behind you from the table if he had.

——————————————————————————

                You thought about the library while gazing into the bowl of soup back in the maid chambers as your patient laid fast asleep, a bit of her spit still sliding it's way down your cheek.

How was it possible to have been lost so suddenly and out of breathe despite moving a few feet away from the book?

You were sure you had seen the scientist too.

This curious thought continued as you tried to sleep. Turned to your side you brain ache to solve the mess you had found. Your name was missing as part of the maids. If it had been scribed it should've been with a last name you've never heard of or the name attached to your estranged mother. Similar to Aria, a daughter also taken instead of birthed. Her's was written with the same ends of Mina.

Still, your name remained alone. There was something about each letter on the page that resonated with you.

It is your name.

You turned to your other side, facing away from the other maids. While staring at the wall you tried to remember your childhood within the castle walls and with time your eyes began to grow heavy. You could hear and feel the beat of your own heart, and the deep breathes of the other women in the room. You could hear the candle left by the empty soup bowl and the wind just outside. With enough effort you could even hear footsteps approaching the room,  and on que, through the darkness and with your squinted eyes, you could see some movement at the bottom of the wall.

Little bits of stone fell out of place to reveal a small tuff of white fur. A rat squeaked it's way out and smelt the air, scurrying off in the dark and leaving you with a smile. You pondered at the newly made hole and returned to the question from before, coming to a conclusion that maybe you do fancy the scientist after all.

——————————————————————————-

[headinthestaticsky]

Extras for The Dusk Calls for me.

Authors Note: While I plan out the next few chapters of my story, enjoy these memories I did for the re-write I did on Wattpad.

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions and a attempt of SA

Time: This Takes place a year before the beginning of The Dusk Calls for me.

"Makes me feel like flying

Top-down backstreet driving Dusty road all alone

Tip my hat Puff of smoke, smoke

Makes me feel like flying

I just run ."

American Gurl by: Kilo Kish

I was finally out, those words of bile my mother and sister spew toward me finally pushed me over the edge. Yet those words finally got me back with my father in Forks, where I always belonged.

Flashback: One Week Ago.

"FLEUR! GET DOWN HERE NOW!" My erratic mother Renee yelled from downstairs.

My heart started beating out of my chest, what did I do this time? I walked into the dining room, Renee and Isabella were sitting at the table across from where I was sitting. Bella had a smirk on her face relishing in the tension between Renee and I.

"Yes?" I asked.

"You always have to cause trouble don't you?' She replied back, malice laced her voice.

"What? What are you even talking about?"

"Bella told me you've been saving money to go see your father in Forks." She spat at me.

My rapidly beating heart sunk down into my stomach, I had been trying to see my dad in Forks for a year now. My mother refused to get me a plane ticket herself, she always told me I reminded her too much of my father and that I didn't need to be around him anymore than I already was which wasn't often.

"Mother, it's my money I can do with it as I please," I said calmly though I could feel the rage beginning to boil in my blood.

"YOU AREN'T GOING!" She yelled demandingly.

I couldn't control myself, it was as if someone else had entered my body.

"WHAT IN THE HELL IS SO WRONG FOR WANTING TO SEE MY FATHER!?"

"I'M NOT GOING TO WASTE THAT KIND OF MONEY ON YOU!"

"Well you aren't now aren't you? It's my own money and I will use it however the hell I want to!"

"Oh don't you..." Renee started.

"Are you going to tell me you would be doing the same thing if Bella was the one wanting to go see dad?"

"She isn't a trouble maker." She snapped back.

"How am I a trouble maker? For wanting my mother to be kind and considerate? For wanting my mother to treat me with respect? To get an ounce of love from the frozen, undead heart inside your chest?" I asked, my face heated up it felt like it was burning.

"If you can't stand to be around us so much why don't you just move down there to Forks?"

"I will, just give me the rest of the money for the plane ticket and I swear to god the second I walk out that door I will NEVER come back!"

"Fine..." I turned away from her before she could say anything else. Before I reached the stairs I turned around again, looking directly at Bella.

"Get away from her while you can Isabella, or you're going to end up being just as toxic as she is." I then left before they could say anything else.

Flashback over: 2 years before the Original story begins.

I looked to the side, staring out the window. The desert plains had disappeared while I slept and now the lush green forests overtook the view. The fog wasn't heavy but the skies were covered with dark grey clouds and a downpour of rain. The cold weather was a lot more favorable in my opinion, the sun couldn't burn my skin much here. The plane had begun to shake signaling that the plane was beginning to land. I couldn't wait to see my father again, I hadn't seen him since my 12th birthday. When I got off the plane I stretched, being cramped in a small plane for an almost 3-hour flight wasn't exactly the most comfortable.

I walked through the crowded airport, scanning the area for my father. I bumped into some disgruntled couples and quickly left before I was caught in the crossfires of their mood.

"Petal?" I heard from behind me. I turned around quickly recognizing that voice, it could calm me down before I got into trouble.

"Dad..." I said fondly before running up to hug him.

My heartfelt I little more full, and the pain my mother inflicted on me was healed for the time being. We walked out together, each of us was carrying a bag. The wind was strong today and my hair was flying all of the places. Its cooling touch raised goosebumps on my skin, mom didn't buy any warmer clothes for me so I was stuck in the typical Arizona tank tops and shorts. Luckily for me, the car was already warmed up so I dethawed quickly. We drove for a few minutes in silence, the roar of the engine and other passing cars were the only sounds filling the space.

"So, how have you been? I feel like I haven't seen you in a while." Dad said.

"I've been better, you know how mom is," I mumbled.

"I don't know what happened to her, she wasn't like that in high school. If she was I wouldn't have even wasted a second on her."

"I know you would've dad...she's cruel for sure. She's just good at hiding it from people she wants to impress."

"Yeah, she is."

The drive was a giant wave of nostalgia, being 16 now and seeing all of the familiar sites and views brought back fond memories. The old ice cream shop dad use to take me to, the reservation that Sam and Leah lived on, it all brought me back. It also fueled anger, however, as my mother constantly kept me under the brutal radiation of the sun.  Dad must've seen the look on my face and put his hand on my shoulder.

"It's going to be okay Petal, you're away from her now." He comforted.

"It's not just her dad... Bella's acting like her too."

"That's a shame... it really is."

"Yeah... it is." I sighed.

"I just can't wait to get back home, the attic is calling for me."

Dad chuckled before speaking again.

"You know... I heard you just got your license... So I got you an older car."

"You did not have to do that dad."

"It doesn't get in until next week, so I'll have to drive you to school until then," Dad said as if that would balance out the fact he got me a car.

"That's fine dad. What is it?"

"It's an old Mustang, a Fastback."

"Thank you, dad..."

"No problem Petal.

When we pulled into the driveway of our small but beautiful home the nostalgia fully set in. The colors were exactly the same, and the grass was just as muddy and dead as before.

"Well I cleared off some shelves for you in the bathroom, your room was a bit dusty so I just cleaned it for you," Dad explained as he helped me take my luggage upstairs.

"Sounds good, thank you again, dad, I love you."

"Love you too Petal." He kissed my head before closing the door behind me. The room was bare, I would have to fix it later on. I collapsed on my bed, facing the ceiling.

"I'm home."

September 17th, 2004.

"Dad I have to go, I don't want to be late on my first day!" I exclaimed throwing on a leather jacket.

"Petal I am almost ready, I never knew you were so much of a bookworm." He joked, ruffling my hair.

"Dad I am an entire school year ahead of where I should be... I take my education very seriously." I said, trying to hide the growing smirk on my face.

"Alright alright let's go," Dad said, taking my arm and pulling me out the door.

We were only driving for a little bit when I decided to roll the window down, I placed my arms on where the window used to be and rested my head on them. My hair blew out of my face and the cool mist of Forks hit me. When we arrived at the school dad was scanning the parking lot looking for a place to park when he passed right by a group of people. They were all gorgeous, their faces seemingly perfectly sculpted, and they all had the same colored eyes, golden. My eyes locked with one however, they were filled with pain for a second before melting into shock. something strange filled my chest and my heart began to race. As we drove past them I gave him a smile, hoping to ease his shock.

Timeskip: September 30th, 2004

Something was up, the boy I saw outside that window, Jasper Hale was more than what he seemed. He was freezing cold all the time, and I swore I saw his eyes turn black for a split second when he saw a boy from another make a gesture toward me. It was strange really, we had been friends for a few weeks but he seemingly had a protective...energy over me. But at the same time, I still felt something... I couldn't explain it. It was as if we were connected to each other in some way. My dad had to take my car to the shop and he couldn't pick me up today so I decided to take a trip to the library, hoping to find some new material to read.

I didn't realize how long I had been in the library until I looked out of the small windows of the building. The sky was darkened and daylight was running out, I checked out a few books and left not wanting to be stuck walking in the night. I was a few blocks home when I heard 3 men talking behind me.

"Oh looks at this one..."

"She seems perfect for us."

"Come here girly... we just want to talk."

My heart raced and my pace quickened, speed walking home. I tried taking weird turns and cuts but they wouldn't fall for the bait. I decided to run for it hoping my legs would be quick enough to evade them all. I was then pushed against the wall 2 minutes into my escape again, the smell of alcohol made me want to retch.

"You aren't very good at listening to orders." One murmured, his face was inches away from me, he breathed in my scent and began to chuckle.

"Don't be too hard on her... I like ones that fight." Another said

"Make this easy on yourself girl..."

One reached down to take off my clothes when he was suddenly thrown back a few feet into the air. I just stood against the wall shocked, I saw Jasper standing over the man before making his way over to the other two men. They both took off leaving their "friend" behind but Jasper zoomed toward them. His speed was inhuman and his strength was unprecedented yet I couldn't stop myself from moving from my spot. The other two men were flown into the air and scream on impact. Jasper grabbed them both by the throats.

"If you EVER try to touch her or any woman for that matter like that again... I. will. kill. you!" He growled before releasing them down on the ground. They gasped and ran again, babbling in terror toward one another.

Jasper walked toward me with a guilty look on his face, his hand reached out for mine and I took it without even thinking.

"Come with me Darlin' I have a lot to explain to you." He said softly, his mood had completely changed with me.

We walked for a few moments in silence, I side-eyed him for any shift in behavior, when it didn't I decided to interrogate him.

"How did you do that?" My voice trembled.

He sighed before replying.

"I'm a vampire." He said blatantly.

I looked at him and laughed thinking it was a joke... when he didn't join I stopped and looked at him with shock.

"You're serious?" I said, my eyes widening again.

"Yes I am, I've been 17 for...141 years. I got changed during the Civil War."

"Damn... you're old... wait were you in the Civil War?"

"Yes, I was drafted to the Confederate Army when I was 17..."

"Yikes..."

"You're telling me, I ran away the first chance I got... I wasn't going to fight in some war that was fueled by warped and disgusting ideas just because I was forced to. I never thought the way they did... I never understood why someone could think so low of a human being just because of his skin."

"That's very brave of you."

"I had just made it to Galveston when I decided to take a break... I ended up on a beach... that's when I ran into an immortal named Maria. She was creating an army and decided that I would be a good fit for it."

"She changed you against your will?"

"I didn't even know what she was doing until I felt searing pains from my arms all the way up to my neck." He explained rolling up his sleeves and showing me his scars."

I traced the teeth marks on his forearm before looking up at him again.

"I'm sorry that happened to you..."

He looked up at me in shock.

"You... you feel sympathy for something like me? I'm a monster..." He said sincerely.

"It wasn't even your choice as to what you became... and I don't think a monster would've saved me back there. Face it, Jasper, you're a big softie who's had bad experiences in his long... long life."

He chuckled before glancing at me, we made it back to the house, dad still wasn't home yet. We walked into the backyard, sitting in patio chairs and looking up at the stars.

"There's something else I have to tell you." Jasper admitted in the darkness.

I looked at him in confusion, what else did he have to tell me? He's a werewolf too?

"You're..." He hesitated. "You're my mate." He said quickly.

"What? How... vampires have mates?" I asked in shock.

"Yes we do, and we instantly know when we've met them. Didn't you feel it, when you looked out that window at me? It was enamour... love, something I have never experienced before."

"I haven't either... but I have to admit I felt something too. I just didn't know what it was, I felt connected to you somehow though. But... I'm 16... falling deeply in love isn't exactly something I planned."

"I understand completely. I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. I understand I am a vampire... this is a lot to take in." Jasper said lowering his head in shame, his curls covered his eyes.

I sat up and turned to him.

"Hey, hey it's not just because you're a vampire honest! I just need to think things through... we can still talk in and out of school I won't push you out." I said a bit faced-paced. I didn't want to hurt his feelings he did just save me after all.

He looked and me and grabbed my hand.

"Take all the time you need Fleur, I will accept your answer no matter what is it." He said sincerely.

"Thank you... Jasper."

"It's not any trouble." His face lit up all of the sudden, car headlights entered my line of view. I felt my hand by dropped by his cold one and a whoosh of wind flew my hair forward. I turned back around and he was gone.

Timeskip: October 16th, 2004.

It was hard, weighing the pros and cons of being with Jasper.

Pros: We were soulmates... destined to be with each other, He knew my limits and respected my boundaries, he gave me a choice, not forcing me into something I might not want to do, and he was a kind and gentle soul. We understood each other, our hearts and souls were connected and I would never find someone else I would be so close to.

Cons: He was a creature who thirsted for blood... a thirst he didn't always have the best control over, Being in a serious relationship at such a young age was a huge commitment I didn't even fully know who I was... would I ever be able to find out who I am being so committed to someone If I did become involved in a relationship two things would happen... I would die and leave him lonely for eternity, or I would be turned into a vampire... leaving my family behind.

My mulling over of the pros and cons was interrupted, a girl had cleared her throat. I looked up realizing I was still in the school library, standing in the back of the constant isles of books. I turned to the voice and my eyes were shocked to see Rosalie Hale looking at me.

"Rosalie? Is there something you need?" I asked.

"Let's go for a walk, I need to talk to you in private." She said she seemed tense about something.

I checked out the books I got before following her to the outside, we walked near the edge of the woods. The dead leaves and grass crunched underneath our feet.

"I know Jasper told you about us... and he told me that you wanted to think somethings over with him." She started.

"Hey... I just wanted to let you know I would never tell anyone about you guys... And I'm not trying to hurt Jasper with me thinking our relationship over. It's just a lot of process." By the time I finished that statement she laughed and patted my shoulder.

"Don't worry Fleur I completely understand why you want to think over some things... I would too if I were in your shoes. Besides, I trust you... I get a good vibe off of you." Rosalie replied smiling at me.

"I want to get into a relationship with Jasper I do but... I don't want to leave my father... he's all I got right now and I'm all he's got."

"Hey, I promise no one would force you into becoming a vampire in our family... I especially wouldn't force you to."

"Really?"

"Yes of course... It's nice to meet someone with a respect for mortality."

"It's just... I always to do certain things... like going to that art school in Cayon City Oregon... the Art Museums down there are amazing... and I always wanted to kid when I was older... a little boy." I explained smiling fondly at the thought.

"I did too... I always wanted a son."

"But at the same time... I wouldn't want to spend all my time with Jasper... only to leave him alone for eternity you know?" I asked her hoping she would get my point of view.

"Of course... I can tell you've been conflicted these past few weeks about it. But I wanted to vouch for Jasper... he's willing to do anything for you, and his thirst for blood has never been more controlled than when he's been with you. He won't take you away from your family either... he would never want to hurt you in any way possible." She explains turning toward me to look me in the eyes so the message could really sink in.

"Thanks, Rosalie..."

"Of course...give Jasper a chance, I promise it'll be worth it." She said.

"I will... I'll talk to him tonight, thanks for the guidance."

"No problem."

Timeskip: October 16th, 2004: 10:12 PM

Dad was gone, he had to work late down at the station tonight. My palms and legs shook nervous to tell Jasper my decision. I was sitting in the same spot I was in when Jasper told me I was his soulmate... the cool air calmed my nerves slightly before I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Fleur? You said you wanted to talk to me... are you okay?" Jasper's voice asked worryingly behind my closed lids.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I just wanted to give you an answer about... everything."

He sat down adjacent to me and nodded, wanting me to continue.

"I will get into a relationship with you... thank you for giving me the time to think about things."

He smiled before asking me if he could kiss my cheek. I said yes of course and it seemed my body melted in bliss and content. All the past weeks' tensions and worrying left me and it was replaced with love... and a sense of stability. We looked up at the stars and I pointed toward the largest one in the sky.

"You see that one?" I said.

"Yes, I do Darlin'."

"That is the star of the path I started with you..."

[yungbud]

Intoxicated X

Req? Yes! By @xoloverr literally last year I’m so sorry lmaoo. 

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: They don’t go back to his apartment but I think you’ll like where I went with it.

The crowd was still screaming even after you got off the bar (which Colson, Dom and you had taken upon yourself to make your impromptu stage). Hands came at you from every direction, patting you on the back or handing you shots. You tried your best to make your way through the crowd to a table, continuing to cheer along with them. 

Turning back, you made sure the boys were still following. Dom was in front, Colson following close behind, Dom’s eyes snapping away from your own as they met. That wasn’t unusual, especially not tonight. Ever since the three of you had met up in the taxi Dom couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Whenever you looked over to him you would find he was already looking, quickly averting his eyes, a subtle blush rising on his face at getting caught.

You allowed yourself to sink into the chair, settling for the cleanest table you could find. Colson sat beside you, Dom opposite, no doubt to get a better view. Your hand came up to brush the hair from your face, doing very little for your vision. It was a miracle you’d even made it to the table, you thought.

“That was fookin mental!” Dom shouted over the music, Colson throwing up devil horns in response as he took a shot.

Your head pounded at the excess of noise, your elbow resting on the table, removing it soon after as you observed the foreign sludge that resided next to it.

You let your head hang back instead, resting on the chair you were slouched in. Dom and Colson’s conversation fading in and out as you stare at the ceiling. The night had been amazing, singing, drinking and smoking, but you were officially done. You hoped the night's endeavours would come to an end soon, with your head against a soft, plushy pillow and the rest of you tucked under warm blankets, the fan on low acting as white noise.

 You should’ve known when it came to Dom and Colson you’d never be so lucky.

Their conversation had evidently been about the next bar you would hit up, promising it would be the last one before home.

The night raged on for four hours more, the sun cracking over the horizons by the time you made it back to your hotel. You loved the boys dearly, but sometimes you weren’t sure you had the energy to keep up with them. That’s why you liked them, you think, they help me do things and have experiences I never would’ve been able to have on my own. You never really felt you had anything interesting to talk about, but since you met them the stories seemed to pile up. Partying wasn’t really your thing, but you were glad you had let them convince you to tag along.

You look over to Dom, who is standing next to you in the elevator, Colson having headed out on a brave journey to get you all some food, and your eyes softened. For the first time tonight, he wasn’t looking, his eyes closed and his head resting on the wall of the elevator.  You were so lucky to have these boys in your life, so many people who cared so much about you. Dom’s eyes opened, peering over at you, a smile spreading across both your faces as your eyes met.

“That was sick.” You whisper, amusement evident in your voice.

“That was so fucking sick!” Dom cheered, the silence following holding a curious weight. Your eyes meeting fully for the first time tonight, you suddenly became very aware of how small the elevator was. Dom’s eyes left yours, only to trail down and land your lips, your gaze doing the same. His lipstick was smeared onto his chin, your eyes filling with amusement as you reached up to wipe it away. The feeling of his warm skin on your thumb froze you for a moment, your hand resting just below his full lips, your eyes trailing back up to his. You swallowed nervously, the air between you becoming thick.

Your mouths came together all at once, desperate for the feel of one another, and left just as quickly.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Dom whispered, breaking the kiss. You thought about it for a moment, how it may impact your career and friendship, but only a moment, multiple substances clouding your judgement.

“I know.” You reply, your lips meeting once more, your hands entangling themselves into Dom’s hair, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, and you were sure he would be able to taste it on your own.

There was a ding as the elevator arrived at your floor, the door opening. Your lips didn’t remove from one another until they began closing once again, the mechanical sliding noise breaking your attention. Reaching over, you put your hand out to stop it, but Dom quickly pulls you back into his arms.

“Think we could do it in time?” Dom questions, his plump lips forming a devious smirk. 

“Maybe, but we’ll have to get to work.” The doors shut fully, blocking you from any would be onlooking eyes as you dropped to your knees, lifting his skirt. You reached up, teasingly palming him through his underwear before remembering you were on a bit of a time crunch. Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, his prick springing up to attention when you pull them down. Your tongue shoots out to lick a stripe up his length before wrapping your hand just under his head, twisting and pumping him slowly. You pucker your lips, placing a kiss to the sensitive head, slipping your tongue past your lips to kitty lick it, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him down your throat, all the while staring up at him through your lashes.

Dom allowed you to pleasure him for a moment, leaning his head back against the elevator wall once more as he enjoyed the feeling of you sucking at his throbbing cock. Only a moment, however, before he was pulling you back to your feet and swapping positions with you so he was knelt between your legs, your pants and underwear discarded at your feet as he maneuvered to suck on your clit. Quickly deciding that the position wasn’t working out, he returned to his own feet, wrapping his hands around your thighs and counting down for you to jump. When you do, Dom quickly wraps your legs around his waist, sandwiching you between himself and the wall, his leg coming up to help balance you as you reach down to line him up with your entrance, pushing in with a groan.

“I want you to feel every fookin inch of me.” He whispers, pushing in a bit more of himself each time before pulling out almost completely.

“I want that too, but its gonna have to wait til later.” You reply, glancing behind him at the door. Seeing as neither of you had pressed the button, the elevator remained in place, as elevators do, but you knew it was only a matter of time before it started moving.

Ever since you met Dom he had made you sexually frustrated in a way you didn’t understand. He was sexy and dark, with the aesthetic of a top, but loud and cute with the personality of a bottom. The androgyonous vibe he had going on didn’t help a bit. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to fuck him, or wanted him to fuck you. He made your brain go haywire, you wanted him and you couldn’t figure out how.

Until just now, that is.

With Dom holding you up and pounding mercilessly at your hips, you knew this is exactly what you wanted. You wanted him all dressed up with his skirt and makeup and you wanted him to use you. Your pretty little slut, your rough dom, absolute sex god, all wrapped up in one. 

Your orgasm washes over you, the mixture of your thoughts and Dom pounding away at you sending you over the edge, your nails digging into his shoulders while you whimper desperately. Moans rolled past Dom’s perfect lips in waves, joining the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the whimpers of your own. You could tell how much Dom wanted this from the way his hips pounded sloppily into your own, the alcohol affecting his precision. Dom’s head came down to rest on your shoulder as he neared his orgasm, your hand coming up to wrap around his neck and guide his attention back to your own. 

A rumble of the floor signals that someone somewhere summoned the elevator, but you doubt Dom even noticed. 

You stareddeeply into eachothers eyes until Dom cums, his nails digging into the soft plush skin of your ass  and his teeth coming down on your bottom lip, releasing only to bury his face once again in the crook of your neck, letting out a throaty groan as he unloaded inside you.

There was a ding and you were met with the sight of a tall blonde, styrofoam boxes in hand. A smile of recognition spread across his face before he took a second to actually look at you. Dom’s hair was a mess and two different shades of lipstick smeared across your face, one of them trailing down to your chest. 

A look of shocked amusement filled his face, the doors closing once again.

[highstwildflower]

Highly

A/n: this is really long I’m sorry!😂

Words: 2000 ca.

The cloud that erupted from your lips vanished into thin air, reminding you of the man who used to fan the smoke away from his reach. Now the spot next to you was empty, no one was complaining and no one was bugging you about being unhealthy. The thick joint was pressed between your lips once again, sucking the poison into your lungs. The relaxing plant infected your system and everything slowed down. The stars swimming above you dripped into the moon that was filled to the brim. You finished the joint, leaning back with a heart that was aching. Moving around you found the position that allowed your heavy heart some rest, your phone was out of reach and you were too lazy to retrieve it. You wanted to shoot him a text tho, telling him all the words he never got to hear.

Instead you lay there, images burning behind closed eyes. Images of his green forrest eyes that disappeared when his laughter erupted, how you would kill to hear that laugh again. The feeling of  the vibration through his chest as he sung you a new tune. How he used to look at you, eyes searching for inspiration and the look in them the second he found it. Being his muse had been the greatest achievement of your life. Your favorite memory was from the frosty night in December only five moths prior, ditching a party the two of you had ventured off into the night. He had held you close when you arrived at your shared home, bodies moving in sync, the rhythm you fell into in the bed had been steady and slow. Intimate love making till dawn. Your bodies not craving sleep, instead you had moved to the patio. His large body had been pressed firmly against the lounge couch and he had pulled you against him. Limbs draped over each other's and low voices filling the air with words of adoration. The conversation following the flow of the wind, the chilly morning offering you an excuse to snuggle closer to your love. He had happily accepted the closeness, and soon series of laughter had erupted into the slow morning. Just the two of you, bodies pressed together and love flowing freely.

You mind had turned off to the memory of him, and next thing you knew you woke up in your lonely bed. It had never felt so big when Michael had been taking up half of it. The empty room taunting you and the long halls hunting the memories that was made here away. As days fell into night and night turned into days your speckle off hope had vanished. The hope of feeling his body once more, his lips on yours and his voice rumbling against your skins. Instead you tugged away your emotions everyday walking through life as someone else, and only allowing the emotions to take over at night. Most nights your mind raced to the loving memories, but some nights it was the burning memories of pain the pressed into your head.

Dating Michael had been fun and easy, when he asked you to build a home with him you had been ecstatic. Slowly reality dawned on you, the rockstar lifestyle being far away from the life you wished to led. His drinking turned into situations that was hurtful, a large number of girls pressing on. Wishing to enter your relationship, you begging him to change every night when he would stumble through the door.

The last time you saw him stung in the back of your mind. Just mere hours after you had told him that he had to stop with the excessive amount of alcohol and he has kissed you with a promise of doing better. You were fuming when you heard him fumbling with the front door, the creaking of the door setting you completely off. With steam clouding your mind you had entered the entrance and he had shot you a short smile. As he came close the words that left his mouth dragged your breath away, leaving your body defenseless "I though you were out with us? Who was the girl I kissed than?" He carelessly moved through your house towards the bedroom. Tears drawing pathways down your cheeks and hiccups threatening to spill passed your lips. You stayed up all night, waiting for him to sober up. Every minute of the night was spent considering the conversation of tomorrow. When he was clear in his head, he yelled out for you, his words bouncing of the walls. Your fragile body towering over him, and your voice anything but fragile. He was shunned from the house, leaving in a hurry as you yelled out your pain. Months passed where you awaited his next move, silently hoping that he would beg for you to forgive him. Instead you got nothing.  His stuff was still where he left them except from his guitars. And you knew everything but his guitars was replaceable. When Calum had turned up at your door with a sorrowful painted across his face you knew he was there to pick them up. It hurt every time you glanced at the empty room having yet to entered it, dust was covering the corners and slowly tugging the room into a dull forgotten memory.

Your high ponytail was swinging from side to side as you strutted down the sidewalk. The pep in your steps were just a reminded to yourself that you had the power to move on. When you spotted him at your favorite coffee shop, your steps came to a halt. His eyes meet yours long before yours meet his. He saw you and froze. Your smile telling him that you were doing good but your eyes spilling your secret. Awkwardly you walked over to him "hi stranger" your voice was a pitch higher than usual and you mentally scolded yourself for the preppy outburst. His voice was darker than you remembered but the impact of his words stronger than you expected "Hi. How are you?" The concentration on your face told him that you were trying your best to stay cool "I'm good , yeah very good. What about you?" The forced smile made his heart ache and his guards grow weaker. "Im glad you are doing good y/n. Im getting through day by day. 4 months sober yesterday" His voice grew with pride as he told you about his sobriety, and his smile grew even larger as he saw the proud look on your face. Without thinking twice you leaped into his arms, hugging him tightly against yourself "Im so proud of you Micky." Your cheeks grew red as you realized that this wasn't what was normal for you to do anymore. The break up meant that you had to sacrifice being close to him and just watch his life from afar. You knew he was sober, his instagram had told you so. But to hear the words leave his mouth made you ache with pride. When he felt you draw back he pulled you into himself again, not ready to let you slide through his fingers once more. Your smell was filling his nostrils and he wanted to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. When he let go of your body, you stumbled back and took him in. He looked better than ever, more fit and more alive. The silence laid as a blanket making the air hot and thick and just as you were about to say your byes he spoke up "Do you wanna catch up some day? maybe drink a cup of coffee?" you smiled shyly at him, and the fact that he had cheated on you was forgotten, "Yeah I would like that." Just like that you had a date with him, your body felt like yours for the first time in months and the pep in your step were no longer forced.

The knock at your door alerted you that he had arrived. You opened the door and smiled at him a laugh followed shortly behind "Quite weird having you knocking on your own door" he smiled back at you before he spoke "Thats ok, you look absolutely beautiful love" he handed you the flowers in his hand and you felt oddly embarrassed, such gestures never fell naturally to Michael. More a man of words he would praise you, shower you in physical affection but stray away from gifts. The ride in his car was longer than you remembered it, the small drops of sweat that was collecting at Michaels hairline let you know that you weren't alone with the crippling feeling of anxiety that started to form the second you woke up. His hands were both clutched to the steering wheel and as he turned into the coffee shop your stomach turned with anticipation. "I was thinking we could do to go? And then go to our spot?" You smiled at his idea, that he remembered how much you enjoined your spot.

The car came to a halt at the empty parking spot. Michael was quick to climb out of the car and open your door for you. Slowly you made your way towards the spot. Surrounded by nature you felt your breath become easier. The large stones that leaned against each other offered a place to take a seat. He came prepared with a blanket and a packed picking. Like so many times before you took place next to each other, the still warm air clinging to both your bodies as the sun continued it's decent. The ocean reached the stones and splashes were sent into the sky. His legs rested and made contact with the firmness of your other thigh. Slow conversation filled the space between you and drew you closer. Coffee was sipped and sandwiches shared. The sun came into contact with the ocean and Michael dived into the cruel conversation that was awaiting you. His body turned to yours "I'm sorry" his words were low but you heard him, your eyes meet and you signaled for him to go on. He took deep breaths of fresh air, worried that his fragile words wouldn't be enough "I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I've realized that I was so far out of line. All my decisions fell back onto you. And I'm awfully sorry about kissing another woman. You are truly the only one for me. I understand if you aren't interested in being with me ever again, but I've changed y/n. I'm still working on myself, but you are my motivation every single day and I want to make it up to you." You mind was clouded by his words, the mentioning of his infidelity was like salt in wounds but you wanted to give him a chance. "Yeah you sucked" you tried to lighten the mood but you both knew that, that was a light way to put it. You continued while gripping his hand " I want to be with you Mickey. But it is definitely going to be difficult for me to trust you" you smiled a careful smile at him and he moved even closer, desperate to feel you. His hand moved to your face as he silently asked for your permission to press his lips against yours. You nodded your head, eager to feel the movement. The world stood still, birds chirping became louder and the intensity of the small gesture made you dizzy. Michael was right there with you, you soft lips sending him into a feeling of ecstasy.

Silent promise between lovers who had been torn apart filled the now colder air. Sun kissing the ocean and dancing in warm colors. Pulling one another closer, and thinking of each other highly.

[joezworld]

Bismuth

Bismuth - a harmless metal when consumed by humans, is known to have significant hallucinatory effects when introduced to a mechanobiological system such as a locomotive. 

Due to its non-fuel state, non-intentional bismuth contamination is rare, but has been known to occur, especially in instances when impurities from lead refining, which include bismuth, are introduced to locomotive fuel sources such as open coal bins or wood piles. 

Introduction to diesel locomotives is more complicated, and typically involves being within close proximity to steam locomotive that is burning bismuth-contaminated fuels, at which point the aerosolized mineral can enter their air intake systems. In some cases, fuel contamination can occur, however most known instances of fuel contamination have involved intentional dosing of fuel stocks with either bismuth or bismuth-derived pharmaceuticals (BDP). 

The stomach-settling use of bismuth in humans has meant that most locomotive contaminations occur after a well meaning relative or friend introduces a BDP such as Pepto-Bismol into the locomotive’s fuel or water system. 

Of course, intentional/recreational ingestion is a known activity, however all reputable sources (J. Small Berries et al) indicate that the hallucinatory events are notable in their inconsistency. The resulting "bad trips" often deter repeat usage.

- An excerpt from: The ABCs of Locomotive Health Care (10th ed., 1984) - J. Bigbooté, J. Whorfin; Yoyodyne Publishing Laboratories, Grover’s Mill, New Jersey. 

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

April, 2000

Nobody’s quite sure how the bismuth got into Sodor - presumably it arrived in the shipment of coal from the mainland. The railway bought coal from a broker in London, and their usual shipment of high-quality coal had been lost - quite literally, as nobody could find it -  and therefore the broker had scrambled to find more. A Polish metal refinery was found to have some surplus coal, and it was sent on without informing anyone on Sodor of the change. 

It arrived at Tidmouth docks on a cargo ship and was promptly sent out to the big stations across the network - Wellsworth, Knapford, Tidmouth, Barrow, and Crovan’s Gate. 

The coal trains ran late at night so as to not be in the way, and it meant that most engines would take on the new coal around midday, as the last of the old stocks in the coaling stages was used up. 

It took about an hour or so for the last of the old coal in the engine’s tenders to be used up if they were working hard. 

This meant that, as the engines rested in the yards after their noon trains, a lot of things started happening...

--

Tidmouth

Mid-sentence, Gordon’s eyes began to roll into the back of his smokebox. He was still speaking, but he slowly began to stop producing any intelligible sounds. His words turned into a mushy babel of slurred syllables and stuttering clicks as the men began frantically wondering if a locomotive could have a stroke. 

Nearby, Thomas giggled dreamily. The pretty pink unicorns that had suddenly appeared on his bufferbeam were prancing about in a most amusing fashion. 

---------

Crovan’s Gate

Percy had been undergoing a pressure test when his smoke started turning yellow. 

The men had dropped his fire and immediately began an inspection, but not before Wendell was totally enveloped in the thick yellow cloud.

Percy felt like his boiler was inflating and inflating, as though the pressure test would never stop. The men eventually stopped what they were doing as he began ranting and raving about being turned into a zeppelin. 

On the other side of the workshop, Wendell was speaking in hushed, manic tones to no-one. Whoever this “Lion” was seemed to be quite concerned for his wellbeing, even if he thought that they were overreacting. 

--------

Arlesburgh

The evil diesels were after him, he was sure of it. Look! There was one there! And another! And another! 

Well not today! Try and catch this example of Great Western Metal!

The men slowly backed away as Oliver ranted and raved at absolutely nothing. Duck and the Scottish twins watched from a safe distance, and decided not to get involved. 

-------

Barrow Sheds

James was past being concerned about the yellow smoke - the little pixies fluttering around his smokebox said that he didn’t have anything to worry about at all. 

Delta, sitting next to him in the cloud of yellow smoke, was much more concerned, but not about the smoke itself. 

"Jamie, something's wrong."

"What makes you say that?

"I can hear Jefferson Airplane.”

"What's Jefferson Airplane?"

"I don’t know."

-------

Barrow Yards

“Why are you not fixing this?! Don’t just stand there! DO SOMETHING YOU MEATBAGS!” Bear roared at the workmen from within the yellow cloud. He’d woken up deeply congested, and didn’t understand why they were saying he needed to be out of the cloud of yellow smoke - it wasn’t like he could breathe much to begin with, and Henry was in trouble and he clearly needed help and these men wouldn’t do anything!

“Holy shit Bear I can swim” Henry said from whatever la-la-land state he was in. 

“That’s nice dear, NOW ONE OF YOU FIX HIM OR I’LL KILL ALL YOU STARTING WITH THE WEAK ONES!”

On the other side of the yard, the men stared at the Hymek, which was bellowing and screaming at a staffing agency billboard on the side of the tracks while Henry belched yellow smoke over the both of them. 

-------

Wellsworth

The rails had turned to jelly some time ago. The crossties had begun speaking in the language of the beast. The sky was a deep blood-gray, and the clouds wept for their lost raindrops. The engine watched as his smoke curled away into letters of an unknown alphabet. He was concerned as to how the menaces had managed this, but he wasn’t going to let them win by acknowledging that anything was wrong. 

If he concentrated hard enough, he could just make out the signal aspects behind a curtain of iridescent sounds. That was a little bit too dangerous in his opinion, and he resolved to inform the twins that their pranks should not involve signals. 

Across the yard, Bill, Ben, and BoCo watched in horror as Edward puffed out of the yard. His pupils were two different sizes, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, he was mumbling and chittering in an indescribable fashion, and his smoke was thick and turning a worrying shade of yellow. 

But he was still pulling his train as though nothing was wrong. 

-------

Farquhar

The apocalyptic wasteland spread out on all sides. The sun burned and burned until the land was scorched to a godforsaken ash. The river Els was filled with blood. Roving gangs of madmen patrolled the ruins - their war machines littered with the bones of their victims.

Mad Tobias the Brown, last of the North Shed, protector of the Anopha Stone, keeper of the soul of Saint Pedroc, guardian of the survivors, rattled through the wastes with his precious cargo of human lives.

A cry rose up from his faithful warrior bride Henrietta as she sighted a roving gang approach from the south. Their war wagon was the converted husk of an old railcar that he once called a friend, but that was long ago. Now she was merely a convenient vessel for the beasts.

The war music sounded in the distance, and he set off - a confrontation was inadvisable with his charges aboard. His smoke scudded off to one side in the stiff wind as he charged - he would have to pass them at the old loop if he wished to be avoid being trapped in the Stone Mountain, and speed was key to avoid their wicked bone hand-and-a-halves.

As he approached, he bellowed a warning cry to intimate his foe. The corpse of the railcar stared back at him in a rictus grin, but its crew recoiled - as one should when facing off against him.

-

Daisy and her crew watched in amazement as Toby and Henrietta, wreathed in sickly yellow smoke, roared towards them with the midday workmen's train. They screamed through the passing loop and disappeared into the distance, incomprehensible epithets trailing in their wake.

-

Inside his cab, Toby's driver had long since given up trying to stop his engine, and was now trying to reign him in so that he didn’t come off the tracks before the fireman could finish dumping the fire.

-

Inside Henrietta, the guard pulled back on the handbrake so hard that the lever came off in his hand. It didn't work.

Terrified workmen bashed at the radio with their lunch pails, trying to make the Norwegian Death Metal stop playing, but it was no use. The radio kept bellowing out tunes even after its faceplate was smashed in, and began to get even louder.

-

Toby was eventually brought to a stop near the Kyndley family's home, but Mad Tobias the Brown didn't stop yelling until the last of the coal ash was cleared from his smoke box three hours later.

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

It took most of the day for the bismuth to work itself out of everyone's systems. Nobody at the railroad was quite sure what was wrong, but considering the dull yellow smoke, it was easy to guess that the coal was bad.

The broker was summoned to the island, and when he admitted that the coal was from a random colliery in Poland instead of the high quality American anthracite that the railroad had paid for, he was quickly sent packing - along with the coal!

A new coal merchant was found, and an emergency supply was bought locally to cover the gap, bringing the saga to an end.

Nobody likes to talk about it - except Daisy, who has no trouble mentioning the tale of Mad Tobias the Brown whenever she wants to bring Toby down a peg!

[got-svt]

inure

pairing: jaebeom x reader genre: angst word count: 696

a follow-up to the entry, sillage

Jaebeom almost didn’t recognize you. Granted, he’d been trying his hardest the past few months to erase any image of you in his brain — to varying degrees of success. 

You got a haircut, was his first thought when he laid his eyes on you. To be honest, he felt a bit like a creep staring at you a few meters away. To him, he’d been looking at you for hours when in reality it had only been a few seconds. Time didn’t seem to pass as normal anymore, slowing down for only the two of you. Maybe this was the universe giving him an opportunity for closure, or maybe the universe just liked to torture him. You looked good, probably much better that he did at the moment.

He had been learning to live with the traces of you in his surroundings, aware that he can’t fully escape the memories of your time together. There was no longer a piercing pain in his chest at the thought of you, replaced with a dull ache he could tolerate living with. It had been months since you left, yet it was just recently that he finds himself finally able to take a walk around Han river in the early morning; only to find you sitting on a bench, reading your favorite book.

“Yn.” Jaebeom spoke before his mind or heart could protest, his eyes widening at his own words.

You looked up at him with a soft smile, the thought of you recognizing his voice immediately made his knees grow weak. There was no sign of sadness or longing in your features, emotions he was sure was prevalent in his own. With a wave of your hand, you offer the spot next to you, which he hesitantly accepts.

“How have you been?” You asked, voice as calm and collected as he remembers, despite the fact the last time he heard it was in an argument that had you screaming until your throat was scratchy.

Jaebeom didn’t know how to answer; he wanted you to think he was doing fine without you, but he didn’t want to lie to you either — he had done enough of that in the course of your relationship. “I’m as good as I can be at this point.”

You hummed, nodding your head slowly as you processed his words. Jaebeom holds his breath at the sight of you, the sun slowly rising behind your form, the faint pink on your cheeks from the morning chill, the cloud of white smoke that escaped your lips as you exhaled into the cold breeze. “I guess I am too.”

His eyes blinked back at your reply, Jaebeom knew this was the perfect time to ask you all the questions that burned his mind for months. Why didn’t you want to talk things out? Why couldn’t you be more patient with him? Couldn’t you see how stressed he was? Why did you block his number and every form of social media? Why did he come home to a half-empty apartment and a letter that just stated you were tired?

Jaebeom wanted to ask so many things but all that left his lips was a simple, “Why?”

You shook your head with a quiet sigh. You knew Jaebeom knew exactly why you left, he just didn’t want to admit it to himself. You’d been having problems for a while, and he only ever chose to see the ups in your relationship — mornings along the river, afternoons in the studio, nights cuddled up in the apartment. Love simply wasn’t enough anymore. “If I have to tell you why then I made the right decision.”

He nodded, and Jaebeom knew the answer to his own question, he just wanted to hear you contradict it. But you never would, not for either of your sakes. 

“We had some good times, didn’t we?” You smiled, tearing your gaze away from him and onto the multicolored horizon,  “Shame we could never return to them.”

“Yeah.” Jaebeom whispered, more to himself than you.

No words were exchanged past that as both of you watched the sun rise — signalling the arrival of a new day. 

inure (v.) — to grow comfortable, accustomed to, or accept something undesirable.  

part of the lover’s dictionary

[fandom-collective-writers]

Stupid (Shaw x MC)

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Shaw x MC

Prompt: lost in the woods, ghost stories

Warning: Smut!!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 5,227

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsister​/@lordsisterxotome (Click here to support me on ko-fi!<3)

Disclaimer: I do not own Mr. Love Queen’s Choice or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: I meant to post this a few days ago, buuuttt life happens. I got caught up doing all the major work for a group project and then I was too exhausted to write at night. 

       “Stupid Shaw with his stupid ghost stories and stupid voice and stupid handsome face and-” Streams of confused insults muttered past her lips as MC continued to stomp down the trail, a mantra to ward off the instinctual anxiety rising in her chest. Why had she ever agreed to come up here with him? Oh yeah, because she was weak for that voice he used when he teased her. She could see him in her mind’s eye right now, that smirk and those glittering golden eyes as he accused her of being too scared to go up the haunted mountain in the middle of the night. Why, oh why, did she have to be so easily persuaded? 

       Shaking her head, MC wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the light coat she had decided to wear. She’d chosen it in favor of looking cute rather than taking a more practical coat for the chilly autumn night, pairing it with a button-up, skirt, and thick leggings. Yet another stupid decision on her part. Always so, so stupid when it came to him. Shaw hadn’t even noticed what she was wearing, only rolling his eyes and complaining about her being late

       Now she just wanted to go home and wrap herself up in a blanket burrito, smothering all the pain and heartache away with fleecy softness and too much ice cream. If only she could find the end of the trail then it wouldn’t be far to the bus stop at the foot of the mountain, and then she could start to pretend that she hadn’t left her heart further up the mountain, in the hands of a boy who cared nothing for it except as a toy to amuse himself with for a time.

       A gasp escaped her lips as her foot skidded on a slippery part of the trail, the sound too loud in the eerie stillness of the forest. Thus far, she’d managed to keep her fear at bay, held back by the anger burning in her chest and the uncomfortable heat prickling at the corners of her eyes. It was easy to ignore the tales of tragedy and bloodshed that Shaw had told her made this mountain famous when she felt she could have wrestled a bear and won through sheer fury. Now though that energy was starting to wear off, the back of her neck prickling and her mind confusing the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears for the rustle of things lurking in the bushes.

       Taking deep breaths and forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, MC tried to reason with herself. Ghosts weren’t real, she and Shaw were the only ones on the mountain, and the bus stop wasn’t far. But she had seen too many crime cases from late night crime shows to feel at ease in the woods in the middle of the night. Not when she was basically setting herself up to be shanked or kidnapped or any number of horrible things. It was different when she was with Shaw; he had his evol to protect them, but she didn’t have anything to defend herself with, hadn’t even thought about it when she had stormed away from him and left him at the top of the mountain to do god knows what.

       It didn’t help that it seemed the weather was taking a turn for the worse. When they had arrived, it had been a clear night, the light of the moon and stars plenty to see by, but storm clouds had started rolling in soon after their fight, the rumbles of thunder increasing with each passing minute and threatening to open up on her.

       It seemed like she was making nothing but bad decisions tonight. Great.

       Another few minutes of walking and the anxiety in MC’s chest only grew. She should have reached the end of the trail by now. Had she managed to take a wrong fork in the path somewhere? Followed another trail she hadn’t noticed when they were walking up the mountain?

       A knot was rising in her throat, but she swallowed, forcing her panic back down even as her steps quickened. She hated that she had put herself in this situation, that she’d been dumb enough to get lost, but more than that she hated herself for wanting Shaw in this moment. Deep in her heart, all she wanted was his bold, smirking presence at her side, guiding her along with playful words that sent sparks through her chest and made her smile despite herself. She wanted the feeling of safety he brought when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, when he looked at her like they had some shared secret only they knew.

       Maybe she regretted yelling at him a little bit, but it was nothing he didn’t deserve after the non-stop teasing and mocking she’d received since the start of the evening. Usually MC could handle his snark, but something in her had snapped tonight, overwhelmed and embarrassed at having her feelings made a joke by this man. It made her feel foolish for ever letting herself be intrigued by him in the first place. She wanted to think she had better self-preservation than that when Shaw’s entire demeanor screamed bad boy trouble.

       ‘Forget it! It’s over; I hate you!’ The look on his face when she’d said those words though-

       Wait.

       Her steps stopped abruptly, sending a slight scattering of loose dirt and stones down the slope of the trail.

       She’d broken up with him? Vaguely the words cycled through her mind, the argument sparked by a jab too far from Shaw replaying in hurtful loops. In her angered haze, she hadn’t realized she’d said those words and now she was paying the price, her hand reaching to grip her shirt above her aching heart, heavy with fresh pain. Panic choked her soft whisper of his name, the tears rising so suddenly that a couple slipped down her cheeks. Squeezing her eyes shut, MC took deep breaths, shaking away the momentary hysteria and biting back the sobs and whimpers that threatened to escape.

       As much as she hated to consider it...maybe it was for the best. Whatever Shaw felt for her, it wasn’t nearly what she felt for him. Once upon a time, she had been attracted to that nonchalant, sassy attitude; it had been refreshing, heart-pounding. Now it only served to make her doubt herself, planting insecurities in her mind about things she’d once felt confident about and making her wonder if she wasn’t worth the effort of a real relationship. 

       Maybe this was a good thing, a signal that she needed to take a step back and take a look at herself and the person she’d become by committing to this relationship. Would she like that person? Or would she realize just what a mistake it had been to follow the boy with lavender hair and smelled of storms and faint cigarette smoke? Could she return to the person she had been before him?

       As great as it was to be coming to these realizations in the woods in the middle of the night, a sudden snap from nearby reminded her that she could soul-search just as well from the safety of her apartment where there were locked doors. She startled, breath catching in her chest as a cold sweat broke out on her back. Every instinct was telling her to run and stay put at the same time, heart pounding in her ears even as she listened for movement, wide eyes straining through the gloom in vain.

       What was probably only a few seconds felt like hours as she waited for something to jump out at her. Maybe it was just an animal? Yeah, an animal would make sense. Please, please, please just be an animal.

       The rustling came again, louder this time, and MC decided she didn’t want to stick around to find out if it really was an animal or not. Her feet slid over the loose dirt and rocks as she flew down the trail, fueled by fear and adrenaline. Rushing and thumping filled her ears, creating unseen, unheard pursuers in her mind as she ran faster, nearly tripping on exposed tree roots and tumbling down the path in her haste. 

       A face appeared in her mind’s eye, a familiar sharp chin, smirking lips, and teasing eyes making her heart and soul cry out for the one person she wished was here right now. What if she never saw him again? Never sorted things out? Had he ever cared for her as she cared for him? 

       She could feel the presence closing in at her back now, legs pumping harder despite the burn in her muscles. One name came to her, waiting to be screamed as she opened her mouth. A hand wrapped around her wrist, her feet scrabbling as she was pulled back abruptly, and her shriek of her lover’s name echoed through the trees, clawing at her attacker with her free hand as she struggled. Every nerve in her body was alight with fear, not even bothering to take a look at her pursuer as she aimed for eyes, throat, ears, anywhere that might distract them enough to release her and give her enough time to escape.

       “MC!!” 

       She froze at the sound of her name spoken in her ear, trembling as she finally opened eyes she hadn’t realized she’d closed and looked up into the face of the man holding her.

       “It’s me. Just me. Relax.” 

       Even in the dark, he was so close she could make out his wide eyes, shining with an emotion she couldn’t place, at least on his face. The warmth of his body radiated against hers as he tugged her closer, a familiar mix of ozone and smoke filling her nose.

       “S-Shaw?” she whispered shakily, legs beginning to tremble. Her heart was still pounding too fast in her chest, but the panic was already starting to dissipate, leaving relief in its wake.

       “Yeah, it’s me, baby. Shh, I’ve got you now.”

       She let him pull her shaking form into his arms, sagging against his chest as he tucked her head under his jaw. “Shaw.” His name was all she could think to say, her mind scrambled as her fingers reached to curl into the soft leather of his jacket. “Shaw!”

       “I know,” he sighed, and she thought she could feel him trembling a little too, but he pulled away before she could be sure. He frowned as he looked at her, a strange, wavering annoyance written across his face. “Are you okay?”

       She nodded, not trusting herself not to sob if she opened her mouth.

       “Good.” His grip on her shoulders tightened and a second later he was shouting, shaking her. “What were you thinking, dumbass?! Running away from me in the middle of the night! How stupid can you get?!”

       She flinched, stuttering his name before he cut her off with a, “Shut up!” 

       “Did you ever think about what could have happened if I hadn’t found you? Huh?!”

       “N-No, but-”

       “Of course you didn’t! You never think about the danger you put yourself in! You just waltz right in and cause trouble for everyone else in the process!”

       Gritting her teeth, MC began to struggle in his hold, his fingers digging too tight into her arms. The relief she had felt at his arrival disappeared under a wave of anger rising from the pit of her stomach, bringing enraged tears to her eyes as she placed her hands against his chest and pushed. “Let go of me, Shaw!”

       “Why?” he scoffed at her attempts to break his hold. “So you can go tumbling down the mountain and break your neck? So you can fall right into some pervert’s campsite?”

       “So what?!” She struggled harder, cursing the way her bottom lip trembled and her voice broke. Glaring him in the eye, she spat, “Like you would even care!” 

       Above, lightning cracked across the sky, followed a second later by booming thunder.

       With a snarl, Shaw dove down to catch her lips in a hard kiss, a shiver traveling down her spine as his breath fanned across her face. He was so close now she could see in his eyes all the emotion he’d tried so desperately to hide, all his pain and fear clear in their amber depths. 

       “How dare you act like I wouldn’t,” he breathed against her lips, and even though he wasn’t shouting anymore, the intensity and sincerity with which the words were spoken was enough to rattle everything she had believed he’d felt about her. 

       “Never, ever run away from me like that again.” His hand traveled up her arm, rough as it smoothed across her shoulder and up her neck before cradling her cheek in his palm. “Never say those words to me again.” His voice was tight, choked, and she winced when his forehead knocked against hers. “You have no idea how I felt.”

       “Shaw?” She licked her lips, not missing the way his eyes dropped to the movement. “Were you-?”

       “No!” he answered, too quickly, too harshly, catching his lip between his teeth as he half-glared at her, relief and need eroding the anger and exasperation he was desperately trying to hold on to. “Shut up!” His mouth slammed against hers again, his tongue diving between her parted lips to dominate her mouth.

       MC could barely keep up as he backed her against a tree, a flurry of teeth and tongue and hands. Automatically, she tried to kiss him back, but she was so conflicted right now she could barely manage to slant her lips against his properly, her gasps of his name cut off in his unrelenting assault on her mouth.

       His knee moved between her legs, parting them, and she gasped, jerking, when his fingers reached under her skirt and stroked her through the crotch of the thick tights she was wearing. Her body thrilled at the unfamiliar touch, arousal beginning to dampen her panties, but disquiet still gnawed at the back of her mind, making her reluctant to give in to his ministrations. Instinctively, she tried to shy away from the touch, but Shaw’s arm around her waist held her pinned against him, unable to do much more than squirm as his strokes turned harder, more insistent.

       They had never been physical before. Sure, he’d teased her, making her blush with his implied indecencies, but they had never gone farther than kissing and the occasional grope from Shaw at inappropriate moments. He had never done anything that pushed her to sleep with him or made her feel uncomfortable, and she’d appreciated him for that as she herself didn’t have anywhere near the experience he undoubtedly did, but it was all too easy to let feelings of being unwanted, of being unattractive, grow and wrap their sharp thorns around her heart and mind whenever she saw him flirting with other women, his hands on their waists or too close to the short hems of their dresses. It made her doubt whether they were ever really a couple to begin with or if it was just her own innocence and foolishness making her get ahead of herself.

       For so long, she’d thought he hadn’t wanted her, hadn’t cared for her, and those negative feelings had overflown tonight, but now she didn’t know what to think. 

       Grabbing the hand that had left her covered core in favor of slipping beneath her blouse, she managed to say, “Shaw, wait, what are you-?”

       “I need to feel you,” he actually pleaded, surprising her with the desperation in his tone. Releasing his jacket, MC took his face in her hands, making him look at her as she brushed his hair out of his eyes. Those gorgeous golden pools that had entranced her so many times shone suspiciously now as he looked at her like it would be the last time he ever saw her, drinking in her features with an intensity that took her breath away. “Please,” he whispered. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out as she watched the panic flare openly in his gaze, his breath catching in a small gasp.

       It shook her more than anything to see the boy she loved like this, her heart wanting nothing more than to wrap herself around him and take back all of her harsh words, to promise to never run from him again and give him everything he wanted, even though her mind was more reluctant.

       Biting her lip, she nodded. She couldn’t kid herself that she hadn’t wanted him. Whatever happened after this, whatever they were after this, she would deal with it and try not to regret it in the long run. 

       Shaw’s eyes closed and his head dropped to her shoulder as he sighed, “Thank you.” Her hands reached to comb soothing fingers through his hair, but she yelped, her grip tightening on the locks, when his teeth suddenly sunk into the side of her neck, abusing and sucking the skin as his grip around her waist tightened. 

       Calloused fingers made her shiver as they brushed the soft skin of her stomach, traveling up her ribcage and leaving goosebumps in their wake. A second later the appendages found the edge of her bra and slipped beneath without an ounce of hesitation to fondle the soft flesh of her breast, teasing the nipple with cold fingers. Mewling, she squirmed and arched into him as his touch sent pangs of heat straight to her core, trying and failing to close her legs around his knee.

       “Does that feel good, baby?” Shaw whispered hotly against the soft spot beneath her ear, his tongue dragging against the edge of her jaw. The soft, scared boy that had clung to her a moment ago had disappeared, buried beneath lust and need and a fighting attitude, and the change startled MC for a heartbeat before she realized it just made her want to embrace him more, take in both the vulnerable Shaw and the egotistical Shaw.

       “Yes!” she admitted, whimpering when his hand left her breast only to screech a moment later his hands gripped the edges of her blouse and tore it apart, buttons landing somewhere in the grass. “Shaw!”

       “I’ll buy you a new one,” he said offhandedly, before hooking his thumb under the center of her bra and tugging it up over her breasts. She gasped as they spilled into the cool night air, nipples hardening immediately, and moved to cover herself, but one of Shaw’s hands grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. 

       “Don’t hide from me,” he chided, glinting eyes sinful as they peered up at her from her heaving breasts. “Your body is going to know me and me alone by the time I’m finished.”

       A cry left her lips, too loud in the quiet of the forest, as his hot mouth encased a nipple, his free hand busying itself with its twin as he moaned and sucked and rolled the bud between his teeth and tongue. She had never felt anything like it before, the sensation heady and addictive, and she bucked against his knee when it moved up to make contact with her crotch. The heat growing in the pit of her stomach made her long for him and she wanted more.

       “Mmm, you’re so responsive to me,” Shaw hummed against her breast, now wet with his saliva. She squeaked when his hand gave the opposite breast a harsh squeeze, glaring down at him as he chuckled, “So cute.”

       Whining his name, she ground against his knee as he moved it over her clothed core again, desperate for some kind of friction no matter how muffled. She had already soaked through her panties, leaving the cotton to rub against her sensitive folds uncomfortably with each drag of his knee. 

       “Shaw, please!” she urged, tugging him up by his lapels for a messy kiss. 

       He smirked against her lips, more of his usual cockiness returning. “Please what?” he asked too innocently, punctuating his words with a nip to her bottom lip. “What do you want me to do to you?”

       Half-pouting, half-glaring, she bit her lip, little tears of pleasure beaded at the corners of her eyes. He seemed taken aback a little, eyes widening as he looked away from her and clicked his tongue. She couldn’t make out the pink spreading across his cheeks in the dark. “Fine! I’ll take pity on you tonight, but don’t expect mercy from me next time,” he grumbled. 

       MC blinked. There was going to be a next time? She didn’t have time to dwell on that little note any longer as his hand released her wrists and moved to the crotch of her tights. A low whistle reached her ears as he took in the mess she’d made on his pant leg, a wet patch on the dark material.

       “Shit,” he cursed lowly, feeling his cock jump within the confines of his pants. “You’re so fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you yet.”

       “D-Don’t - SHAW!” she screamed as he tore her tights open, outraged that he’d ruined yet another piece of her clothing in the same night. “Why do you keep ruining my clothes?!”

       “You don’t need them right now,” he shrugged, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make sure to take your mind off it.” 

       “But - hah!” Her protests cut off when he tugged her panties aside to stroke two fingers through her wet folds. Throwing her head back at the contact, she ground her hips into his hand, clapping a hand over her mouth to contain the embarrassing noises that threatened to escape.

       “It’s so dark, but I can see you glistening,” Shaw murmured, his voice awed and teasing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance up at her, shocked by the raw hunger and lust in his gaze. “Go ahead and try to stay quiet, I dare you. I’m going to make you scream for me.”

       She cried into her palm as a digit sunk inside of her, the sensation foreign and strange but not entirely unpleasant. Her velvet walls clenched around the intrusion, the calloused pad reaching deeper than her own fingers ever could. Despite the strangeness of it, it did little to quell the need suffusing her body, only succeeding in fanning the flames of her longing for more of him.

       “So tight around just one finger,” he hummed, letting her bury her free hand in his disheveled hair as he started to thrust the digit in and out of her. “Too tight...Don’t tell me you’re still a virgin?”

       Her eyes widened, jaw opening and closing a couple of times in broken answers before she huffed and looked away from the lengthening smirk on his face, her cheeks hot. 

       “You want me to take your first time out here in the middle of the woods?” She didn’t dare look at him for fear her heart might give out at the sheer sin painted across his face. His grip on her thigh tightened, another finger joining the first and making her shudder. “You want to lose your innocence to someone like me?”

       “Shaw, please-!” she whimpered, voice trembling as it became ever harder to stay quiet.

       “Answer me, love. How many times have you thought of me taking you like this, fucking you on my fingers?”

       “I...mm...I don’t know!”

       “Do you want my cock? Want me to make you come apart on my dick?”

       “Yes! God, yes!” Her hand dropped away from her mouth in favor of joining the other already tangled in his hair, forcing him to look up at her as she pleaded, “Please, Shaw! Please, please fuck me!”

       Surging up, he captured her lips in a heady kiss, passionate and needing but not without a surprising edge of tenderness. Thus far, his affections had been wild, frantic, almost as if he was afraid she would change her mind and push him away. Now, MC realized how wanted she felt, heart warm in her chest.

       She peeked down curiously as she felt him shuffle against her, a shiver of excitement traveling down her spine as she heard the jingle of his belt being undone. It was hard to see in the dark and with his mouth still hungrily devouring hers, but she felt the weight of his erection spring up against her hip, another wave of arousal soaking her folds as her lover moaned at the friction and ground against her.

       They broke away from the kiss panting, a string of saliva connecting swollen lips, and she watched through half-lidded eyes as he slipped a condom out of his pocket. He wasted no time in tearing the package open and rolling the rubber over his straining length, ignoring her wide, questioning gaze as he straightened and hoisted her leg over his hip. She squeaked at the feeling of his cock sliding through her wet folds, hot and hard as the tip caught on her neglected clit. The pleasure it sent through her was intense, nearly sending her into a mini-climax as she whined and clawed at him.

       “Are you ready?” he murmured, mouthing at the marks he’d left on her neck to distract her from the press of the engorged head at her entrance. 

       Swallowing, she nodded. “Yes.”

       She felt him take a deep breath and a heartbeat later she gasped as the head of his cock burrowed inside of her, her body tensing at size of the intrusion, so much bigger than his fingers. Shaw groaned into the crook of her neck, fingers digging into her hips to resist the urge to simply hilt himself roughly inside of her. “You have to relax, baby girl.”

       “Trying-!” she squeaked, burying her face deeper into his shoulder. 

       “Look at me, love,” he murmured into her ear after a second. Tilting her head back against the tree trunk, she felt her heart stutter at the raw look in his eyes, more love and wild protectiveness there than she had ever thought possible for him. “I’m going to imprint myself inside of you,” he promised, tone too sweet for the filth of his words. “Going to drill into this tight little pussy until no other man can ever satisfy you.”

       His lips fell upon hers, swallowing her pained whimper as he finally pushed passed her maidenhead and forced his way deeper into her tight heat until he had bottomed out. Shaw kissed away the few tears that escaped her tightly shut eyes, staying perfectly still despite the raging urge in his lower gut to fuck her raw until she was ruined for all other men.

       The pain of having her hymen broken and the stretch of his impressive girth inside her created a throbbing burn deep in her stomach, nearly enough to make her push him away, but she endured it in favor of the underlying pleasure she could sense beneath the discomfort, a bubble rapidly expanding as her body accepted him.

       “So fucking tight,” he hissed, panting. “I’m going to lose control sooner than you’re ready for if you keep squeezing me like that.”

       “Please…!” The leg over his hip pulled him closer, her hands clutching him tighter. The pain had all but disappeared now, leaving sheer need for him in its place. “Please, move!”

       Shaw didn’t need any further encouragement, nor did he start out slow. Pulling back until only the tip was left inside of her, he slammed back in hard, drawing a scream from her as electric pleasure raced throughout her body, suffusing each cell. Her hips moved to meet his thrusts, trying to reciprocate, but he shoved her back against the tree, leaving her helpless to do much more than writhe against him as he continued to pound into her.

       The grunts and growls that fell from his lips warmed her skin as he panted into her neck, making her weak and threatening to send her crumpling between him and the tree trunk. Before she could though, his hand wrapped around her other thigh, hoisting both legs around his waist now. His thrusts intensified, turning feral as her fingers clawed at him through the thick fabric of his jacket and he hit deeper, dragging against her walls with each ferocious drive into her dripping core. 

       His lips captured hers in a messy kiss, swallowing her mewls and cries as he pressed closer, working his cock even deeper inside of her. “Don’t go,” he panted, moving to kiss her again. That uncharacteristic vulnerability was back, making his voice raw, hoarse, and it gave her pause in the throes of her pleasure, shaky fingers moving to brush his cheeks. “You can’t go.”

       She opened her mouth to respond, but a hard grind to her clit left her incoherent, unable to form the words to reply on her tongue. Her mind was beginning to fuzz over, turning white at the edges.

       “Promise!” he cried, demanding and pleading all at once as his grip on her tightened. “Promise you won’t go!”

       “I-I promise! Ahh!! Oh god, Shaw! I’m-!” She screamed his name as her orgasm washed over her, enveloping her in mind-numbing pleasure as she spasmed around his plunging cock. The intensity had her scrabbling her purchase, legs wrapping tighter around him for some kind of stability. 

       He wasn’t far behind. With a few more frantic thrusts into her, Shaw groaned, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as his body shuddered and he released into the condom. Still entwined, they sank to the ground together, mixed up in each other’s climax and unable to let go even if they wanted to.

       MC didn’t know what to say now, how to put the feeling of how full her heart felt into words. So instead she took to caressing the porcelain skin of his face in her hands, kissing his closed eyes, the corners of his lips. She was surprised when the stroke of her thumbs across his cheek bones came away damp.

       Heartbeats passed and he pulled back, flaccid cock slipping out of her. She stared at him as he shuffled, disposing of the condom and tucking himself back into his pants. What happened now? 

       “Come on,” he grunted, offering her a hand up on shaky legs. He pulled her along a few steps, stumbling after him, before kneeling and grabbing her by the backs of her knees, pulling her onto his back.

       “Where are we going?” she whispered, afraid to break this sense of intimacy that remained even despite the growing awkwardness of the situation. 

       “I’m taking you back to my place so we can do it again,” he said, turning to look at her from the corner of one amber eye. “You deserved better than to have had your virginity taken in the middle of the woods.”

       Biting back the idiotical wide grin that threatened to take over her face, MC buried her face against his shoulder and nodded. Maybe all the decisions she’d made concerning him weren’t so stupid after all because she knew that she would move heaven and earth for this boy, no matter what came between them.