#how dare you tell me to throw all of it away and go somewhere cold with a fuck ton of strangers !!!

[chaoticbuggybitchboy]

“If you dont like it, move” how fuckin dare you tell me to abandon my home because fascists. I love my home and I will make it better. I do not want to leave my home. I will not abandon it until it is very blatantly apparent to me that my options are to leave or to be killed and even then I’ll probably stay and do my damn best to fight back anyways. I don’t want to leave my home, this is a place I love full of people I love. Do not ever tell me to ‘simply’ leave it.

[woewriting]

turning point (g!p)

pairing: tara carpenter | reader summary: tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn. word count: 3726 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick, friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general. a/n: will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!

masterlist

When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once. 

Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device. 

tara ♥︎ can you come pick me up? please this is the worst date ever 😭

Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location. 

tara ♥︎ im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore please come fast

Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.

It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.

Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car. 

“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home. 

“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”

“I'm watching Stranger Things.” The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.

“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”

“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.

“He has a small dick.”

“I'm all ears, princess.” 

The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.

The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date. 

According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar. 

You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.

“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”

“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.

Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college — where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”

“Black socks really do sucks…”

“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.

Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”

The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.

“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”

“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”

“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”

“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”

“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.

“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”

“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”

“He didn’t have any?”

“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”

“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.

“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”

“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”

“Where did that come from?” 

“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”

“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”

“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?” 

You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”

“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”

“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”

Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand. 

“Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss me.”

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.

“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”

“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”

“Then why wasn’t he hard?”

“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.

“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”

“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t. 

“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”

“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.

“Please…”

“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”

“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”

“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip. 

“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.” 

“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?” 

You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”

When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace. 

You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.

Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard. 

Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you. 

“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.

Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.

Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly. 

She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.

It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release. 

This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.

“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly. 

The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.

“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”

“And how do you wanna cum?” 

Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.

Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling. 

She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move. 

“This feels so fucking good.” 

Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.

Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist. 

Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie. 

Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile. 

“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.

“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?” 

Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” 

“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.

Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm. 

“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?” 

“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Mafia Ringleader x GN Reader

What? I'm sick of these classic Mafia husbands trope yet we all know damn well that part of us is digging real deep into it. So allow me to hand you one of my Mafia OCs.

One of the nation's biggest threats has yet to be your lover, wagging his imaginary tail as he rested his face on your lap. We are so desensitized to how immoral a mafia is due to the romanticization of it to the point you just straight up ignore all his crimes!

Because of his work, the two of you can't really have a private date somewhere out there. Sure the bodyguards are not in sight but you know better than to think that they are not lurking around to keep you both safe from his rivals.

"Won't you gimme a smooch'aroo?" "... In front of your men?" "*Pouts* Pretty please?"

You love it when he throws all cold facades away and shifts himself into a touch-starved puppy! Who would have known this guy just sent one of his enemies their men's heads as a lingering threat to not exert themselves~

While your lover is not involved in the human trafficking side, it doesn't justify his actions for being the largest drug dealer in this nation. Whatever type you are looking for, junkies, he has it all stored for you, with a price of course.

But if you are a junkie reader then he'd be quite worried. You see, he may be dealing drugs but that doesn't mean he's doing drugs. He likes nicotine but would rather not indulge himself in yet another addiction okay? And that goes the same way to you! Please stop it.

And may I tell you that Kaspar enjoys ranting to you about how his day(s) has been, how he wants you to comfort him as you praise him for surviving yet another day? Empty plates are not filled with him just sitting around and he has to fight every day to not remind himself of the old days?

"Oh yes, have my beloved eaten? You are not going through another silly diet, right? Trust me, food is meant to be enjoyed and not over-calculated!"

There are also times he'd rant non-stop about this certain lawyer that he's working with. Of how one of the nation's biggest threats, has been reduced into an errand boy for his spouse! Can you believe that, babe?

Overall Rating? 9/10. Where did the 1 one go to? Your dead friend that insulted you and his punishments. Ehe.

Look, he has a problem with people who dare to look down on him and you, he has grown up in a rather unfortunate background in which he fights teeth and nails to break free so how DARE someone patronize him or you?

Yeah, it sounds romantic but not so cute when it's your literal bestie. He spares no mercy in how he deals with them too, the only mercy he's offering is one chance and nothing more.

Another dark side of him would be his... punishment. Ehe. Due to his upbringing as a ringleader, he is used to disciplining his men, rough. Sure he doesn't give you the same punishment as he does to his men but that doesn't mean it saves you from how unpleasant it is.

The worst punishment that wrenches his heart would be making you skip breakfast, lunch, and dinner! He doesn't have the heart to but he has to! (Honestly, in your opinion, there is literally worse punishment than this, not gonna name it.)

Yeah he is a Beelzebub at heart (Gluttony)

[darkest-depravity]

Two Forms of Desperation

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, I stop.

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

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

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Too Sweet

Javier Peña x fem!reader

Part one

Series masterlist

Blog masterlist

You’d come down to Colombia with one thing in mind: prove you’re more.

You’d studied journalism, been the top of your class. You were made for this, born for it. Everything you did came naturally. College had seemed almost too easy to be true. And to top it all off, you loved it. You loved the investigation, the adrenaline, the fact that you could show people the truth…

You were headed down the road of your dreams.

Joining the DEA hadn’t really been your idea. Your grandpa, the DEA agent back in his time, had insisted. He’d promised he could get you good connections, told you that you’d love it.

You knew you would. The idea of working in a big, complicated, dangerous case like that…How could you let the opportunity slip? So you agreed.

With your grandfather’s help, you were officially part of an investigative team for the DEA. Nothing big at first, just small busts on local operations in Texas.

And then, word reached your grandfather that more hands were needed in Colombia. He recommended you. You were called down a few weeks later.

You had big hopes for yourself, knew that you could do this. You were determined to take down the cartels, to uncover anything and everything necessary to win the drug war. You were hungry for information and hungry for the chase.

But then, a week before leaving for Colombia, your superior had called you into his office.

You sat at his desk, wondering what this was about.

Carl was somewhere in his late fifties, a man hardened by his time in the DEA. He’d worked under your grandfather for years. You'd always thought he was a good man.

Until that day.

“Listen,” he told you, sighing softly. “The higher-ups are sending you to Colombia mostly because your grandpa requested it. But you’re a kid. You’re too young to go down there and keep up with the kind of work that’s going on with the Medellín cartel.”

You’d frowned, taken aback, but quickly recovered. “I’m not a kid, Carl. I can handle myself. I know what I’m getting into.”

He pursed his lips, pausing a moment before saying, “I’m gonna be honest with you, kid, because your grandfather and I go back. How can someone like you expect to go down there and make a change?”

“Someone like me?” you echoed.

“Graduated little over a year ago, been in the DEA less than twelve months…” He paused, as if debating it. And then he added, “And you’re a woman.”

You froze then. That was supposed to be a problem?

“So?” you’d demanded, crossing your arms.

“So a woman—a pretty girl like you should be settling down, finding a man to love her, taking care of a family. What are you doing, going to the middle of a battlefield?”

You wanted to throw up. Wanted to punch him, scream, throw things. How dare he?

But you simply took a deep breath. “I can handle myself,” you repeated and stood up to leave.

“They’ll chew you up and spit you back out, kid,” Carl warned. You knew he was saying that because of what had happened to him in Mexico with your grandfather. A raid gone wrong, three DEA agents dead, Carl was hospitalized for months. He never returned to the field and instead retreated to managing operations from behind the desk.

You gave him a long, cold glare. “And I’ll go back. Not all of us run away with our tails tucked between our legs at the slightest sign of danger, Carl.” You turned and headed for the door. “I’ll tell my grandpa you said hi.”

You think about the conversation the entire flight to Colombia.

What are you doing, going to the middle of a battlefield?

He's a fucking idiot, you think to yourself. Why else would anyone go to the battlefield? To fight, to defend…How could you just not do anything about it? If you stood by and watched everything go down, knowing that you have the ability to help even in the smallest things, you’d be just as bad as the narcos. Standing by and doing nothing is aiding and abetting the cartels.

You can do this. You know you can do this. And yet, Carl’s words cut deep. You know he’s not the only one who thinks that. Working in the middle of a field mostly ruled by men means having to deal with the fact that they all look at you like some toy thing, like just another housewife in the making.

You won’t—won’t, won’t, won’t—let that get to you. You know your potential. Even if no one else can see it, you know it’s there, you know how far you can go. And you’re going to make all of them see it too.

The first day in Colombia is a blur. You go through the airport, find a taxi to take you to the apartment the embassy has assigned for you. You settle in. It’s a simple place, simple furniture, not decorated. Just a twin-size bed, a few rickety chairs and a table for a dining room, thin curtains.

You sigh. It’s the first time you’ve lived alone. Sure, you had a dorm in college. But this is…different. It’s your apartment. All of this is your responsibility. It’s a feeling of freedom and fear all in one. Just the kind of adrenaline you need to get your mind off that horrid conversation with Carl.

You settle in. Meaning that you take your suitcases into your room and sit on the bed, the springs squeaking beneath your weight.

You start work tomorrow and you have nothing to eat, nothing to clean the house with, nothing to cook with—just nothing.

Since you’re not sure how long you’re gonna be in Colombia, you might as well make this place a home.

You find a decent furniture store not far from the apartment complex that can deliver your things in a couple of days. You buy simple things—a dresser, sofas, a real dining table with chairs, and a bed where you can sleep more comfortably. It’s a big bill, but some of your expenses are refunded by the DEA, so you allow yourself a certain amount of luxury.

And what kind of home doesn’t have decorations?

You pick out plant pots, nicer curtains, a few lamps to lighten up the place. And dishware. Simple plates, silverware, glasses, mugs. A set of four since you don’t expect to have much company. The cookware goes at the end. A single set of pots of three different sizes, a kettle, and a medium frying pan. Add some spatulas and you’re done.

You’d left your new apartment around midday. You return at dusk, just as the sun has dipped over the horizon, leaving the sky a soft purple.

You were told you’d get a car. Apparently, not until next week, according to the woman who you’d called to ask about it.

You took a cab, brought the boxes out of the trunk and left them all in the entrance hall. Now, you find yourself hauling boxes of decorations up the stairs. Up and down, up and down. Your legs grow tired, your back aches from carrying all the heavy stuff up two floors.

You’re heading back down to retrieve a box of plates when one of the doors on the first floor opens.

A man in his mid-thirties steps out, wearing a mustard-yellow button-up tucked into his jeans. His brown hair is a little tousled, his dark eyes find yours before moving to the boxes at the bottom of the stairs. A small smile quirks his lips up under his mustache.

“¿Necesitas ayuda?” he asks.

You blink. You know a little bit of Spanish. More understand it than speak it, really. You immediately become flustered, a little afraid you won’t be able to communicate with this man when he’s so kindly asked if you need help.

“Oh, uh…Yo estoy—” you cut yourself off. Can he even understand you with your accent? “The boxes, um—está pesados y—”

“You’re American,” the man says, relieving you when you realize he speaks English too. He eyes you up and down. “I’m Javi,” he introduces, holding a hand out to you.

You shake his hand. His palm is warm, fingers calloused. You’re distracted by that as you give him your name almost mechanically, your mind on the feel of his hand against yours.

His eyes flash with recognition. “You’re the new girl.”

You blink. “I—What?”

He chuckles softly. “I’m a DEA agent,” he explains. “They told me you were coming down to help with the cartels.”

“Oh.” You nod softly. “Yeah, that’s…me I guess.”

He eyes you again. “You’re younger than I thought you’d be.”

You’re not sure if that’s a compliment or not. “I-I’m twenty-three,” you blurt, as if that were an acceptable answer.

Which is the acceptable answer? you wonder. If there even is one…

He chuckles softly, an easy smile on his lips. “That’s still pretty young,” he points out, tucking his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “So. I’m guessing you just moved here?”

“Yeah. Just…settling in, actually,” you reply, nodding at the boxes on the floor.

“You moving all that on your own?” he asks, frowning slightly. “Here, let me help.” He reaches for a box before you can respond.

“That’s—You really don’t have to, I can do it myself,” you stutter, glad for the help but still trying to be polite.

“Come on, it’s no problem. I’m glad to help,” he insists, already starting to walk up the stairs with a box in his arms.

You follow after him, quick little steps trailing after his long strides. You lead him to your apartment, the door already open, and you gesture at the messy threshold, loaded with boxes. “You can just put it down anywhere,” you tell him, a little embarrassed about the mess.

He nods and sets the box down on the floor. He gives a quick, curious look around your apartment and whistles lowly. “Nice place. Your apartment’s got a better view,” he says, peeking into the living room.

“Not much of a view when that lamppost is out. It’s just…dark.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be able to see the sunrise,” he replies.

You turn to him, smiling softly with a little hmph. “I don’t stay up until the sunrise,” you tell him. “I can’t function properly if I don’t get enough sleep.” His eyes meet yours, dark, his gaze thick, and you feel nervous. Did you come off as weird? Are you making an absolute fool of yourself right now? Your nerves make your rambling worse. “I just—I just need at least eight hours, y’know? Otherwise I’m just stumbling through the day in a bad mood and that’s never good for anyone, especially if I don’t get my morning coffee. I’ll just be upset and bitchy all day and people get upset about it and then I get upset about that so it’s like a chain reaction and…” You trail off at the look in his eyes, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I sound like an idiot. He's gonna think I'm a fucking moron.

***

Fucked.

That’s all that Javier’s mind can come up with.

Fucked. I’m fucked.

He’s fucked. You adorable little thing, rambling on nonsensically, cheeks turning pink, eyes wide and nervous. His interest is piqued. You’re pretty, clearly smart, and you’ve gotta have guts to come down here at the ripe old age of twenty-three. You intrigue him, something about you has him thinking about blurring the boundary between co-workers and something more.

When he heard there was going to be a journalist headed down here to aid with the investigations, he’d expected some grumpy old man. Or a plain asshole who’d sit on his ass all day and do nothing. He had even thought that maybe they’d send down one of those pretty TV reporters just to get more people to watch their news.

Then he found out your name. He recognized your last name, he knows who your grandfather is. The Federico García, a good man and an even better DEA agent that controlled the Mexico cartels at the Texas border. But he never thought agent García would have a gorgeous, intelligent, gutsy granddaughter who’d end up working in Colombia.

And now that he’s seen you…

No, he thinks to himself. Come on, man. Look at her. She’s almost fifteen years younger. You can’t. Can’t. Can’t.

He shakes his head slightly to get rid of the thoughts.

He glances around again. Your apartment is bare with the evident lack of use. Javi wonders how many hours it’s been since you got off the plane.

You smile a little sheepishly. “I, uh, still got a few more boxes to get to if you, um, wanna help?”

He gives you his trademark sideways grin. “I’d be happy to,” he replies. As you two leave your apartment and start walking back down the stairs, he asks, “You nervous?”

You open your mouth to reply and pause. He glances at you, raising a curious eyebrow, and chuckles when you nod softly. “A little,” you admit. “Not so much about, like, the cartels and the narcos. Just…nervous about being in a new place where I don’t know anyone.”

“Ah.” He nods. “I get the feeling. But you’ll be fine.” He nudges your shoulder with his gently. “You got me now.”

Stop, stop, stop, his mind screams. Are you flirting with her? Why are you flirting with her?!

You give him a shy grin. “Yeah, I guess. So you’re, uh, a field agent?”

He nods proudly. “Yeah. Only way to catch these motherfuckers is to go after them ourselves.”

“Do you ever get afraid?” you ask. “When you’re walking in there with guns and bulletproof vests…Do you ever lose your nerve?”

He sighs softly. “I’m scared, sure. There’s always the risk of getting shot, killed…But if we don’t do this, who will? Someone has to stop these assholes.”

You nod. “Fair point,” you allow.

Thing is, Javier didn’t tell you the whole truth. Is he afraid? Fuck, yes, he’s afraid. He lives with the constant fear of getting caught in the crossfire. The narcos would never purposely kill a DEA thanks to Kiki, but a stray bullet…

He also doesn’t tell you about the interrogations, the tortures, the illegal shit he does with Carrillo and the Colombian army. The nightmares he has sometimes. The look of terror on these people's faces when they know they’re caught.

He helps you with all of the boxes, purposely taking a little longer just so he can talk to you. The way you speak, the way you look at him with eyes full of innocence, the way he knows what his intentions are and still can’t seem to stop himself…

Fuck, he’s doing the wrong thing. He knows he is. And yet, he’s not holding back.

Once all of the boxes of decorations and basic home necessities are placed in your threshold, Javi smiles softly. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You nod. “Thanks again for your help,” you tell him for the millionth time. “I’ll be in by eight…ish. If I can find a cab. Do cabs drive by here?”

Javi blinks at you. It takes him a moment to put the pieces together. “You don’t have a car yet. You won’t get it until roughly next week.” He sighs. He remembers that, waiting for the embassy to make true on their promise to give him a car. It took days longer than it should’ve. “I can drive you.”

Your big, soft eyes widen a little. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience—”

He waves dismissively and cuts you off. “No, really. I mean, I have to go to the embassy anyway, might as well give you a lift.”

You hesitate, biting into that plump bottom lip of yours. He can already imagine himself tugging it out from between your teeth, running his thumb over it…

“Really,” he insists. “It’s no problem. I’ll even let you pick the music,” he teases.

That gets a little giggle out of you. “Alright,” you give in after a moment. “Okay. Thank you. So, uh, I’ll be ready at eight.”

Javi smiles softly, his most dashing, charming smile. “Good, I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Good night.”

“‘Night,” you reply, a soft pink filling your cheeks when he playfully winks at you before walking away.

This is a mistake, he thinks to himself as he walks down to his apartment. I should stay away from her.

But deep down, Javier knows he won’t. He can’t. He wants a lot of things from you, but keeping his distance? It's just not one of them.

Dividers from @cafekitsune they're all amazing!!! Thank you for creating these gorgeous works!

If you guys want me to start a taglist for this fic, lmk! Ily!!! Please don't forget to comment, reblog and like <3

[zirconika]

nine lives of a thief

ONE | living in high cotton

NAVIGATION . MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a series entitled 'Nine Lives of a Thief,’ but you may choose to read each part as a oneshot. Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 4.1k SUMMARY: Years after your first love broke your heart, you’re stunned to see him among the newly welcomed group of survivors in Alexandria, and his return might just be the cure to your heart that’s been malfunctioning ever since he left. Your personal goal to put everything in the past is interrupted by his mission to win you back. WARNINGS: Major angst in progress. Talks of a miscarriage and a former abusive relationship. SETTING: First few weeks in Alexandria and pre-apocalypse flashbacks

The last time you spoke to each other, the two of you were getting high in your parents’ Chevrolet Cavalier that you stole. On your ring finger rested a bejeweled stone he’d given you, promising you his love. 

I’m gonna marry ‘ya, he had told you. You believed him more than you believed any god in your life. You were going somewhere far away together, ready to leave behind the life both of you had. To him, leaving meant leaving Merle. But to you? It meant leaving everything behind.

And now, there you were. You no longer sported the voluminous curls the eighties deemed fancy, your face was bare, and you were older. He couldn’t take your eyes off you, and he wondered if you could also tell how much he’d changed ever since…

Well, ever since he ditched you. And most of all, he wondered if you were still carrying the same indignation you had when he left.

For the first time, your eyes laid on him from afar. Of all the many survivors you expected to find within the walls of Alexandria, you didn’t expect this damn asshole.

He watched as your face went from bliss to raw recognition, his heart thumping faster and heavier in every passing second you didn’t dare to walk over to him, until you did.

Oh, he didn’t know what to make of the world around him as you came closer. It was just like seeing you for the first time again, but this time he was begging the Earth to swallow him whole. 

By the time you were standing in front of him, the archer was at a loss of things to say, but also the power of saying it. Seconds passed and a look of doubt and uncertainty kept flashing on his face, and yet nothing came out of his mouth. 

You were just as bad. God, you hated the feeling in your bones that wanted to throw your arms over his shoulder. He was alive and breathing. The closest thing you could do was give him a tight smile.

“Hi,” you tell him with a smile. “I—uh, it’s been, what, thirty years?”

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh, and he was grateful to all the saints and gods in the world no matter how much he lacked faith that some force of destiny had brought him here, and that you were still safe. 

The weight in his chest was slowly beginning to lift. Maybe it really is all in the past. 

“Yeah, m’still Daryl, though. You?”

You chuckle. “Still [Y/N], sadly. Y’know, uh, I was actually just about to head out to the porch with a beer. You…wanna come with me?”

Then came the weight. You noticed rigidity returning to Daryl’s stance, and you instantly regretted having asked. 

You chuckle nervously. “You don’t have to, I just… Thought you looked—”

He shook his head to assure you. “Nah, yeah, I wanna come with ‘ya. Let’s go.”

The air was cold, but it didn’t bother you as much in the presence of Daryl Dixon. You wanted to beat yourself over the fact that he had so much control over you all thanks to the scent of his you could recognize anywhere. Heck, you smelled him before you saw him. The moment that you got a whiff of him just a few minutes ago, you knew you were bound to crumble. It’s only thanks to the bottle of beer in your hand that you’re able to comfort yourself.

He leans against the porch’s post as you lean opposite him. He’d changed indeed. You eye him with deliberation: his hair was darker, longer. Wrinkles were present in places where you used to kiss him. You shake the thought away. “Not surprised you’re a survivor.”

An unsaid anguish hung between the two of you. Daryl crossed his arms to gnaw at his thumb. He never seemed to outgrow that habit, and you couldn’t help but feel comfort from the familiarity.

“Have ‘ya been here right from the start?” he asked to break the ice, taking a sip from his bottle so he’d have something to do with his hands when you spoke.

“Yeah, I—uh—bought a lot here when they were still preselling, so I got it for a pretty good deal.” You shrugged. Moving away from the post you were leaning on, Daryl thought you were going to leave with no farewell, but instead you just set the beer down. “Y’know the house you and your folks holed up together in? That was mine.”

You could see heat rush to his face, and you could tell he felt bad over the prospect of you giving up your house for them. Daryl’s shoulders tensed. “They kicked ‘ya outta yer own house?”

You shake your head with a smile. “No, it’s not like that. I volunteered to give it up. I moved to a smaller house. I’ve been dying for an excuse to leave that house, anyway.”

“Why’d ‘ya wanna leave? It’s a big house,” he observed. It is a big house. It catered to the entirety of their group with no problems.

“Because it’s a big house,” you answered as-a-matter-of-factly. Living alone in that shell of a home haunted you in more ways than one. At one point, you felt as if there was a ghost upstairs because you had never bothered to visit it. 

Daryl paused. You had to glance his way to check on him. He seemed to be debating on whether or not he should ask something until he decided on doing so. He needed answers. “What about your…family?”

He’d been trying to forget that the last time he really saw you was years after he’d left you. It was in a grocery store, and you were shopping for baby diapers while caressing your belly. And then he was on the run with Merle again.

That was ten years ago, some time before the turn. Daryl assumed one of the kids he ran into was yours, or maybe you’d tucked him or her to bed. He knew nothing about you.

“Oh, it’s just me.”

It was clear Daryl had more questions, but you figured he deserved to know at least a little bit of your recent history. 

“It’s alright to be curious, y’know. Husband ditched when he knocked up his work wife. Good riddance.” You hated that you were only relieved to find out he’d left. It wasn’t standard for a woman to rejoice upon discovery that she’d been left for another woman, but it meant freedom. 

Daryl nodded slowly, processing it all in his mind. He couldn’t believe it, any of it. He’d been living on the belief that you were better off. That you were happy.

You sipped from your beer again. “I didn’t really mind, and taking care of the divorce papers proved to be a good distraction. Plus, I got the house and the car so I’m not really complaining. He did get our vacation cabin in Vermont, though. But what good is it for now, right?”

“Right,” he scoffed. And he didn’t want to ask, but he decided to maximize your go signal to ask anything. “What about… What about your kid?”

You raised a brow. “You know about that?”

“M’sorry,” he hurriedly said, shaking his head. “Ya don’t have to tell me anythin’ about that.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You waved a dismissing hand. It surprised you that you were no longer as affected as you were then. It no longer pained you to talk about her. “She died the minute she came into the world.”

“I’m sorry.” The image of you shopping for diapers came to Daryl’s mind. At the time, it seemed that you were happy, and maybe he was right. But the more he knew about you, the more he began to doubt that your life was better the moment he left it. 

All the time you spent apart, Daryl concocted an image of you tending to your sweet and happy family in the suburbs, busy sending your kids to school and celebrating every anniversary with your husband in different countries every single year.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you said with a smile. You’ve moved on from it, really. “It was for the best. Can you imagine raising a kid in this mess?”

Daryl made no comment whatsoever, but you remembered that his gang had brought a teenager and an infant. 

You sigh. “Sorry. But you get it.”

“S’fine, yer right anyway.” Daryl took a sip from his bottle. “You should meet ‘em sometime.”

You nodded in response, and he watched as you subconsciously and subtly knocked on your chest. It was one of those things he’d gotten used to seeing you do back then, and he never got to ask why you constantly did it. It didn’t feel like a big deal to ask now, so he let it slide, simply grateful for the opportunity of seeing the little parts that made you who you are once more.

“Geez, I think I gotta lay off the beer,” you said, settling it down on the floorboards.

He nodded. “Right, good call.”

“So, how’s my house?” you started. Daryl knew the time for him asking you questions was over, at least for now. He respected that.

“S’good, there’s plenty of space for us all,” Daryl answered. “Though I gotta be honest, ‘ya gotta give us some time to warm up to it.”

You give him a warm smile. “I get that.”

“But it is cozy,” he added. You don’t know what he meant by it, but a playful grin rested on his mischievous lips. “Pretty far from the camper van ‘ya said ‘ya wanted to live in forever.”

“We’re gonna run away and we’ll just…I don’t know, steal one of those camper vans and go anywhere together!” you had told him when you let him put the ring on your finger, wearing a smile you were so sure you’d never have to bother removing.

You stared at him a little longer than you intended to. You notice the mole he had just shy above his smirk that slowly faltered. You used to love kissing that very spot. No, don’t think about that.

Fuck. “M’sorry, didn’t mean it that way.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” you laughed, waving your hand in the air to assure him. “I’m just surprised you remember.”

His shoulders relaxed, but the guilt that accompanied him in every journey he’d taken on never left. If anything, he felt its weight more so now that he’s found himself in front of you again. 

“Yeah, well, how could I not?” 

“To be fair, you did drive away in my car while I was getting nachos.” You had to look away this time, bringing your attention to the gates in the distance. 

Daryl froze. He wasn’t stupid, but he might as well have been. He knew what it looked like to you all these years, and for the first time in a long time he thought once more about how you must have felt in the parking lot, searching for half an hour only to realize you were all alone miles away from home.

It was too late to explain himself, but he could at least try. 

“M’sorry about what I did,” he said carefully. “I was an idiot for that. M’just glad to know you’ve been alright all these years.”

He didn’t mention noticing your jaw tightening as you smiled at him, but he also realized how much of a bad choice it was to comment that you’ve been alright. There was a story in that expression of yours somewhere, he knew that. It just wasn’t the time to ask about it more. 

“It’s fine, really,” you told him. “It’s in the past, it’s been decades. We’re adults. And it’s the least of our problems now, I mean, we got the dead walking for fuck’s sake!”

You laugh in disbelief, and so does he. It was so easy, so natural. Suddenly, you were seventeen in the passenger seat right next to Daryl fucking Dixon singing Boys Don’t Cry by The Cure as it played in the car stereo. 

No.

This shouldn’t be real, you thought to yourself. You’d put him in the deepest, darkest pit in your mind and in your heart. Daryl coming back was a blessing and a curse. Though you were grateful to discover that he was a survivor, his presence ached you deeply.

It dug out every single memory from your past you’d tried so hard to bury. Your smile faltered as you felt the past blending with the present. 

Daryl noticed the change, so you spoke before he could. 

“I should get going now,” you announced with a forced smile, a little bit louder than you intended as your mind was preoccupied thinking of an excuse. “I gotta go home!”

“Want me to walk with ‘ya?” You could see a grin growing on his damned lips. It was like being brought back to the past. You knew this scene somewhere, and you hated that you liked it.

“Well, I—it’s fine!” 

“S’fine to walk with ‘ya or s’not fine to walk with ‘ya?” he asked, but it was more of a challenge. Usually, you knew what to say and how to say it. You were just that kind of person, it was even something you were proud of.

“Erm,” you gulped. 

This was not one of those ‘usual’ moments.

You wanted to return to the party, but you couldn’t just say that—you’d already taken one step down, away from the porch! 

You look back at him to explain yourself as you walk a little bit farther every single time. You were going the wrong direction, but you decided that it was too late to go the right way. You’d just have to make a round trip across Alexandria. “I got this…thing. In my stomach. I have to, you know. And I’m tired, so I guess I’ll—!”

“Nah, seriously, I insist.” Daryl had made up his mind the minute he asked. He brought the half empty bottle of beer with him as he walked ahead of you. 

You scoffed. “Fine.”

Though Daryl seemed to have built this wall around himself, you could still see rays of his stubbornness. It used to be something you’d fight over, but also solely for the purpose of kissing and making up.

The first half minute of the walk was silent, and you hated how peaceful and at ease you felt. It should have felt unbearable, uncomfortable. Daryl had a way with his presence you never realized you’d been missing until now that you have it again.

You tell yourself it’s just the severity of being your first love, but it was more than that. You waited for a couple of seconds to pass before deciding that this idiot wasn’t gonna make conversation despite insisting to walk you home.

“So, the outside,” you started. “How long have you and your people been out there?”

“For a while. The longest home we had was a prison.”

“You were…in jail?” you asked hesitantly. You knew of his criminal record, but you didn’t consider for a moment that he’d been behind bars this entire time.

“No,” he answered. “Just found shelter there.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know you’d find a grin on his face. His stupid, stupid, stupid face. “Ya thought I was in prison?”

“No! Just when you mentioned it. Then just now, I thought it made sense why I never heard from you.”

Daryl stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He’d thought you wanted nothing to do with him. “You were expecting to?”

Maybe it was wrong to confess something like that. “A postcard would’ve been nice.”

“Didn’t know where ‘ya lived.” He shrugged, even though he wanted to admit that he assumed you no longer wanted to hear news about his whereabouts. 

“Well, you knew about my kid. What’s that about?” You’d been meaning to ask, but you couldn’t find the opening. 

The archer halted, looking for an escape hatch. 

I heard from a friend? No, he didn’t. The honest answer would’ve been that Daryl wanted to reach out to you but bailed when he discovered the good life you were blessed with. The life Merle said you’d be robbed of having had you run away with Daryl.

But Daryl wasn’t an honest man, at least not tonight.

“I didn’t know, I just guessed.”

And of course, you let him lie. “Right. And you wanted to walk me home because…?”

“I wanted to.” Daryl had not yet toured the entirety of the neighborhood, but it felt like a pretty long walk for a walk home. Just when he’s about to ask, you reach the small apartment buildings just across Deanna’s house. The two of you had just done a round trip of Alexandria. You were just right across the street.

He wanted to ask why you’d taken the long route when you’d seemed so eager to be away from him earlier that night, but he knew exactly why. 

You were never able to make the sane decisions when you were with him. 

You stop in front of your home. “Well, this is me.”

“M’kay, I’ll see ‘ya around.” The archer gave you a tight smile, raising his hand as a wave right before turning around to make his way to the gate. 

“Daryl,” you called. And he’s glad you did. “Have you been well? Ever since?”

He thought of Merle. Beth. Herschel. Everyone they lost. When you were younger, you changed him. That change was undone when he left, ruining everything you’d built together. But this time, the man you built before was slowly returning. 

Has he been well? Daryl knew better than to disagree. 

The archer stared up at you one step away, curious if his eyes were deceiving him by letting him see you again. “Yeah, I’ve been alrigh’.”

“Okay,” you say, half-satisfied. “I had fun. Bye, Daryl.”

And Daryl watched as you hurriedly got inside your home. You didn’t know it yet, but something inside him sparked bright with ambition. This wasn’t the end of it.

Mornings in Alexandria were particularly slow in the most comfortable way possible. It unnerved Daryl; something about going on his day ‘normally’ felt alien, out of place. Thus, he’d often step out for long hours to ‘hunt,’ when really he could be back anytime he wanted with his stellar skill in the craft. 

He wouldn’t say it, but he just felt suffocated in Alexandria. Some would argue that the apocalypse wired him to be the way he was now, but a part of him would beg to disagree. He would’ve felt smothered had he found himself inside the damn gated community way before the turn. 

And that’s precisely why he’d fallen prey to Merle’s argument about you that fateful day he left.

“What, ‘ya think a girl like [Y/N]’s gonna be fine livin’ off pot? Nah, brother. She’s been livin’ in high cotton her entire life. Girls like her were made for them nice houses with picket fences married to a fancy man who works in a bank. How’s that g’nna work, huh? Hell, yer the kind who robs one!”

Daryl had been so sure he made the right choice then…

“Something bothering you?” Carol asked the archer, just leaving the house in complete uniform looking very much like a sweet, harmless housewife. 

“Nah.” Daryl looked up behind him as he sat on his haunches, cigarette in his loose hand as if it was an extension of himself. “Didn’t feel like goin’ out today, but I didn’t feel like stayin’ here, either.”

“You could take a shower,” said Carol. Daryl grunted, and she only smiled, knowing where to direct the conversation to. “Maybe then you could finally ask out your pretty neighbor.”

“What?” Daryl spun, standing up to meet Carol at eye-level. He didn’t want anyone to know of his past, much less see a part of it. Suddenly, everything felt real. You felt real. You were, but it pained him to admit that he hasn’t yet been able to say everything he’s wanted to say in every single day that haunted him when he left. 

Carol, on the other hand, had thought nothing of it for the past week. Though she wondered if there was more to the story, she resorted to assuming Daryl simply liked the Alexandrian. But Carol wasn’t stupid, she knew now for sure that there was something deeper.

“See, I was making conversation with everybody. I heard from Sally that [Y/N] was supposed to bring cookies, but she burnt them too much.” Carol wanted to laugh at how serious her friend looked, eager to hear more. “So, I wanted to help her out and Sasha said she saw her leave with you.”

“S’that it? All of it?” Daryl asked, his voice grim. 

Carol crossed her arms, raising her brow in question. “That’s all of it for me, what’s all of it for you?”

The archer trudged down the stairs of the porch, tossing the cigar on the floor as he did so. “Nothing.”

“The house we’re staying at,” Carol started, just enough to get Daryl to stop in his tracks. “That house is hers, isn’t it?”

Daryl paused. “Ya heard some of it?”

“I may have heard some of it,” she said. “I might have even heard…all of it? Before you walked her home?”

“Damn it, Carol!” he groaned in exasperation. There was no point in denying it now. Carol knew something, and knowing her, Daryl knew she’d been observing you ever since that night. No lie would slide past that woman no matter how hard he tried.

“So?”

Daryl looked around him, checking if someone else was listening into their conversation. “The garage,” he said. And so they went.

When they got inside, Carol was surprised to find a brand new motorcycle. She ran to its side, eyeing the shine on the body. “Oh, she’s pretty! Where’d you get her from?”

“I know,” Daryl exclaimed. “Aaron, he… He wants me to look for survivors with him instead of—Ow!”

Carol punched his arm, her eyes wide in defiance and her mouth grinning wide. “You’re trying to change the subject!”

“Am not,” he defended, feeling his arm with his hand. That woman was a nut, and she was getting an answer whether he wanted to or not. “Fine. Just the short version.”

She crossed her arms again, making her outfit look more like a costume than a uniform. “Alright, what’s the story?”

He didn’t want to tell it, but somehow he felt he needed to. Daryl was used to bottling his secrets in the belief that he could carry it all on his own. He couldn’t. It just so happened that it was your history together that had the most effect on him. 

“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Daryl started. His heart was begging to be released into the wild where it could be free. Telling this part of his life was something he’d never bothered to let out. Heck, he’d never even thought about it to himself in a long time. He treated it like a dream he was starting to forget but couldn’t. “I was trynna win her when we grew up, and I—we dated. For some time. Then we were gonna run away together. She was the one who wanted to; stole her parents’ car ‘n everythin’, brought a wad load of cash. I gave her a ring I saved up for, and we were gonna go far away. We hopped two states. Then I… And… I just—she was one of those kids from a well off family, alrigh’? And I was…intimidated.”

Though Carol found herself smiling for the first half, she didn’t like where this story was going. “What did you do?”

Daryl stilled himself for what was about to come out next, from his mouth and Carol’s.

“I left her while we were two states away from home. She was shoppin’ for groceries while I was in the parkin’ lot. I drove away. With the car. And the cash. Never looked back.”

The next thing he knew, his friend had planted a hard slap across his face. And he knew he deserved it. Heck, he deserved worse than that. Maybe even deserved to die for it, now that he knew the life you were left to live wasn’t exactly paradise.

Daryl Dixon was a coward.

Daryl Dixon was stupid for assuming he could even win you back.

And most of all, you would be just as stupid if you let him.

i'm still building my blog. so for now, just send me an ask to be added to my taglist :)

DARYL DIXON TAGLIST: @vaniniweenie

[khristie16]

hello, could you do a mean dom possesive fic with carlos sainz please? thanks

Warnings: this is dark, hide and seek, violence, knife play, smut

Cariño where are you??

his voice floated throughout my apartment, his tone telling me that he is ready to play. He gave me a choice earlier and I chose wrong..

I'm hiding in the closet of my room, completely terrified, cold sweat pouring all over my body, I'm cold and I'm shaking so much that I have to be careful not to shake the closet door.

Carlos gave me an ultimatum, if I go to the event with my girlfriends without him, it will be bad. I didn't dare ask him what had gotten into him. His look terrified me. There was indignation and unreal anger in him. I've never experienced him like that. I thought he was out of his mind for a moment and didn’t take his words seriously. I didn't want to admit that he could ever treat me like this. It didn't suit him. And that's why I decided to go.

But when I returned home, everything was silent and dark. I turned on the lamp on the coffee table and wanted to throw some food to my throat. But I noticed a small white piece of paper on the table. I didn't leave it here and didn’t know of this. I looked at it and read what was written on it. Run and hide because when I find you you will regret everything.

I was overwhelmed with panic and my hands started shaking. I became hardly aware of my breathing and stiff muscles. I felt like an animal about to be executed. Somewhere behind me I heard deep breathing full of anger. As if the monster itself was waiting for me in the corner. Tears started to flow and I stuttered in pain when I realized that the apartment door was locked and my keys were gone. They were there just a moment ago.

I looked around the room but didn't see anyone. Only then, as if the darkness itself moved in the darkness. I screamed and ran away, fearing for my life.

Quiet footsteps somewhere in the distance. That's all I hear. Tears come to my surface and I feel that my whole cheeks are soaked. I writhed in pain in that uncomfortable position. And I was waiting... I was already hoping that such calmness would remain, but something rustled. It was the pile of laundry on the bedroom floor that I forgot to clean. If there's a mouse under it, I'll be damned...

Silence again. The ticking of the clock drifted from the corridor to here. I swallowed hard.

mi cariño

I stuttered and hid my mouth behind my hand. I tried to be completely quiet. A dark shadow came into the room through the cracks in the door. I recognized him. He stood sideways to me and stood in the middle of the room. His body turned towards me. And I knew it was the end of me. Because the closer he got, the more I expected to see his face. Definitely angry, full of anger and rage. I wish…

Instead he crouched and I screamed as a clown mask appeared in front of me. Just then the door swung open and he grabbed a handful of my hair. He pulled me into the middle of the room.

With a quick movement, something clicked, and only then did I realize that it was the knife he was holding in his hand.

Tshtsh cariño. You were a bad girl

P-please n-no

He jerked his hand, it's a wonder he didn't pull out my hair and came closer to my face, his mask made me more terrified.

It's too late for that now

He took me under the elbow and pulled me onto the bed. He held the knife under my throat and I tried not to breathe.

You know, I wanted to do it the good way. I gave you a chance, but you blew it. How can you be so unreasonable?

The shaft of his knife moved from one hole under my ear to the other while I was shaking all over and my tears were already soaking the t-shirt I was wearing.

In one quick movement, Carlos’s hand moved I screamed. I closed my eyes and waited for my end. But I felt a great coldness on my chest and only when I opened my eyes did I see his clown mask waiting in front of my bare chest.

What do you want it to be? Neck? Or nipples?

Please Carlos no!

Pst pst, that's not how you should talk to me.. there was a time for that before

His silhouette straightened again and now I was looking at his stomach. He grabbed me by the neck with his other hand and put me on my back. He tore my pants and underwear with a knife. I was naked for him.

Someone is wet here..

I started sobbing even more over my body that betrayed me. I felt dirty and ashamed. What is wrong with me?

I knew there was something more to you.

As soon as he finished, he unbuttoned his pants. He pulled him out and rubbed it a few times.

Legs wide open.

I stuttered and begged him not to do it. He ran out of patience when he placed the tip of his knife on my thigh and lightly dug it into the skin. A bit of blood appeared from the small wound and I started to cry even more.

If you don't listen to me, it will get worse.

I opened my legs wide so he could climb between them. He didn't hesitate and thrust it into me. I almost choked on my sobs and the way my breath came out.

He prepared the knife between my breasts and grabbed me by the neck with his other hand.

So what will it be, the neck or the nipples?

[darkdevasofdestruction]

You Are My Sunshine - Jack the Ripper/Jack Smith x Reader

"A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant... Taste of death but once." - Jack Smith.

There was no true middleground between social classes within the Victorian era, and in London, people could feel that suffering the most. The rich only got richer, while the poor starved to death. Women were hardly allowed to work any legal job, thus having to retort to prostitution, while children begged on the streets, in the freezing cold and rain, and men worked themselves to death in factories.

Somewhere, in one of the cheap rooms of a brothel, a prostitute gave birth for the first time, to a rather special child; A little baby boy, conceived with so much love, a precious little thing that would take the name of his father - Little baby Jack. Though he would live in great poverty, the only money to provide for him being the little coins his mother would get from her work - He was still happy. Not only did he have his mother's unlimited fountain of love for him, but he could also read the book left behind by his father upon conceiving him; It was a book of Shakespeare's most famous works, and little Jack loved reading them, to the point that he would take all of the more notable quotes to heart.

Precious little thing, so innocent, a glimmer of hope in the bleakest world that London was for him. He would go out daily, in his raggedy clothes, to find something to eat for him mum and him - And Anne too, if she wouldn't drink so much alcohol all the time. Every day, for so long, this child had to endure multiple beatings and degrading insults, all to survive; And he did it all with a smile on his face. All for his loving and caring mother, who chose HIM, of all the others of her children, to give birth to and raise! He was the fifth child she could have had, but she chose HIM! He truly as the luckiest boy!

In the back of a bakery, little Jack would often try to get the throw-away pastries and bread that would soon go stale and needed to be discarded; It was just trash, nobody needed it anymore, did they? Still, the chef was angry with him, and with his large, strong body, he would kick at Jack's small and frail little body with such malice that was inhumane. A monster. "You again?! This rubbish bin is MY restaurant's rubbish bin! Whether it's leftovers or scraps you want from it, you'll have to pay! And if you can't, then don't ever come back, you filthy rat!" poor boy was clutching his stomach from the exorbitant about of pain he was feeling; But it was fine, if he could get some food out of it, it was worth it.

"HALT!" the authoritarian voice of a girl resounded through the back alley, followed by the rhythmic sound of heeled footsteps approaching them. Jack dared look up to see who it was - A beautiful girl, radiating like the Sun, was standing tall and proud. She must be a nobleman, Jack thought with a soft blush, admiring that beautifully embroidered light blue dress, the rich leather boots and that pretty long hair done masterfully in ringlets, accessorised with a lovely bow. "You are a man, an adult of all things, yet you dare pick on a starving child? How pathetic are you?" the little lady scoffed, looking up at the man with disgust. "Why, you...! Who do you think you are?!" the chef was trembling with anger, ready to raise his fist. "I am a noble lady of high society. I should rather say - Who do YOU think you are, raising not only your voice, but your hand at me also? I could have your business in bankruptcy, if I so desired." she played the insufferable rich brat so well, it even surprised her. "Which would be a pity, considering I quite like the food from your restaurant. Alas, I cannot tolerate the chef being abusive towards the less fortunate. Perhaps I should tell the Queen to take away your Royal Warrant for good." "H-Hold on a second, little lady! Surely, we can negotiate a little? This boy is just a beggar! He has to pay if he wants to eat my food!" the man became stunned from the awfully condescending look in her eyes. "If you don't let the starving people eat the throw-aways and scraps, then you are letting the rats and all the vermin group around and infest this place. I could have this place shut by simply telling them I saw a rat in the restaurant - Who do you think they'll believe - You, a middleclass chef? Or me, the young heiress of Duke L/N?" she unfolded her lacey fan, cunningly covering half of her face. "If you offer the discarded food to those in need, however... I might reconsider your position in this tough industry."

At once, the chef ran inside the restaurant, only to soon return with a large box full of food, which he let fall in front of the boy. "There - Is that good enough?" The lady took out a golden coin from her pretty little blue purse, and she flicked it on the ground for the chef to scramble over it like a greedy man. "For now, yes. Keep up the charitable work, Chef." the lady looked away as the chef bowed and rushed inside the restaurant.

When he was finally gone, the lady let out a sigh of relief before snapping her fan close and giggling. She crouched down in front of the boy and smiled brightly, offering him her hand to help him stand up. "I hope this food is going to fill your belly for a while." "Ahh, My Lady, you're too gracious! You needn't bother with a sewer rat like me!" the poor boy didn't even dare look at her. "No, no, I won't have that. It's not your fault you were born under such circumstances. Everyone deserves a chance in life. Unfortunately, only few are born under a lucky star. Without money, privilege and status, there is little one can do to live a comfortable and modest life." she explained as she picked both of his hands in her small, delicate ones, helping him stand up. "Can you carry the food to where you stay?" the boy's beautiful smile and blush made her feel happy. "Yes, I'll be fine. You really... You're really too kind, My Lady. I don't deserve your kindness." suddenly, Jack felt his face being cupped gently, his silver hair being brushed away from his eyes. "I've never seen such pretty hair on a boy before. And your skin is so soft also. You even have heterochromia! See - One of your eyes is the colour of the soul, a calming blue like the azure sky; And the other is the colour of love, a gentle carmine like the heart that pumps blood inside our bodies. You are very unique and special." "I-... I don't know what to say, My Lady. I... I'm really happy... Only mum ever said anything so nice about me." the pink blush gracing his features made the girl giggle sweetly. "What is your name?" the girl asked, patting his hair. "Jack. My name is Jack." Y/N nodded at him. "What a pretty name you have, Jack." she praised. "My parents are waiting for me, so I can't stay around for too long. We are going to see a theater play, you see? They are playing Hamlet. Will I be seeing you around?" "Y-Yes, if you want to see me, I'll be around!" the little boy offered a bright, toothy grin. "Alright. I will be seeing you around, then." she nodded confidently. "Oh, before I forget - If you ever find the whole world going against you, then you pay look for me. My home is a little out of London, on a pretty hill next to the forest. Ask for Lady Y/N L/N. And give them this." she took off her necklace, placing it in his palm. "Well, I suppose you can sell it if you really want to. Anyway, I'll be seeing you around. Take care, Jack."

With a pretty wiggle of her fingers, the little Lady bid her farewell before unfolding the fan and gracefully waltzing out of the alleyway, back to her parents, while the boy could only stare in shock and awe at what just happened. He was left completely mesmerised and in love with Lady Y/N and the wonderful shade that her emotions radiated around her like a Godly aura. He's never seen such a brilliant shade of blue before, he wondered what it could mean.

As Y/N returned to her parents, she told them happily about her encounter with the young boy named Jack, and how pretty he was, even despite being in an unfortunate circumstance. Though her parents knew that the social standards of the noble class dictated who to marry and even fall in love with, they were content seeing such a glowing smile of happiness on their little girl's face. Perhaps this little boy, despite being from the very lowest class, could be a nice friend for her. Her father, most of all, knew how good it was to have street-smart men as his friends, when circumstances dictated a more shrewd plan.

Likewise, Jack ran quickly back to the brothel, showing his mum and Anne the bounty he brought home, telling them in great detail his encounter with the beautiful Missy who saved him from the Chef and threatened him into being charitable with the less fortunate. He even showed off the keepsake necklace she gave him, as a promise of reunion! He was so giddy and excited to see Lady Y/N again, that he wished to go sleep faster and wake up earlier, just so the time would fly faster and meet Lady Y/N already.

As promised, Y/N would take him on carriage rides and go to the park or on flower hills, just talking about random things. He especially enjoyed it when Y/N would bring literature books over and would read to him - On the few occasions that he knew the piece of literature, he would unconsciously find himself reciting the lines at the same time as she read them. It always made them smile so cutely at each other.

With this, Y/N even started baking some pastries and desserts for him, and he loved everything she made for him so much; Though even he has to admit, her famous Apple Pie was his favourite.

On a beautiful sunset, Y/N admitted that her favourite colour was blue - It was usually a colour associated with the emotion of sadness, but Y/N never once believed so. It's such a calming and gentle colour, how can anyone feel sad when seeing it? She simply could not accept such erroneous symbolism. Jack, on the other hand, said his favourite colour is yellow - The colour of happiness, the colour of the bright, warm Sun... And unknown to Y/N, the colour that Mother's love shone.

One day however, things changed; Jack learnt the truth of Mother's love. He experienced the most painful kind of betrayal, hearing your own mother cursing you and wishing you were never born. With tears and snot running in rivers down his face, Jack watched Gold turn to a marvelous purple of Fear as he killed his mother; And the very same purple he witnessed from his supposed father, Jack Smith.

Drenched in crimson and all alone, Jack knew he had to find a reason for living, and the means to do so - He couldn't beg his whole life. He was a gentleman, and he wanted to grow up and look the like also. He took out the necklace from inside his shirt and kissed it. He wondered if Y/N would still accept him, even after she sees him in this state.

Although skeptical, the guards allowed the boy to enter the manor, but was only allowed to meet Y/N's father - A pristine man, tall and with a respectable body, wearing a monocle and a rich suit. He was everything that Jack wanted to become. Upon seeing the boy, the Father asked what happened to him - Jack found himself tearing up, explaining his mum was killed and he ran away in fear. Poor boy, he lost even the little family that he had.

"Would you like to work for us, Jack? I'm sure Y/N would be very happy to see her friend every day." the silky moustache of the gentleman twitched upwards with his smile, and the boy couldn't help but blush deeply, nodding. "I-I would love nothing more, My Lord." Y/N's Father hummed gently, petting his hair before instructing the maids to care for the boy and show him the servants' room. He will be a great gardener's apprentice. Y/N loved flowers dearly.

Though the morning started bright early, Jack was excited to have such a great place to live at and work; He didn't get to see Y/N yet, but he was told the little lady of the manor enjoys reading whilst drinking her afternoon tea, in the flower garden. Excited, Jack, under the supervision of the elderly gardener, cut a few pretty flowers and rushed to where Y/N was enjoying her tea. He extended his hands towards her, handing her the flowers. "Good afternoon, Lady Y/N!" his smile was brighter than the Sun itself, and he looked so much more adorable now, properly cleaned up and wearing fresh clothes. "Jack!" Y/N's calming blue aura turned such a blindingly bright pink of a gentle hue, like the petals of a pink rose, that Jack felt overwhelmed with happiness - He didn't know what that colour meant, but he could easily tell it was a very positive one. She threw her arms around his neck and brought him in a tight hug, kissing his cheek. "I'm so happy to see you! Are you alright? Did something happen?" Jack simply smiled at her. "I'm the happiest I've ever been whenever I'm with you!"

From the proximity, the mother and father smiled, watching the two children interact so purely with each other. It was no farce, they cared for each other deeply. For quite a few years, Jack remained as a servant to Y/N's manor, and with the kindness of her parents, he was taught the same things that Y/N was - Although she was supposed to learn more feminine things, to become a proper Noble Lady that would one day marry and what not - They did indulge in her love for science and wish to become a doctor. It was a sad thought, not being allowed to study Medicine because no University allowed women. It was a sad reality they lived in. It mattered little that their sweet girl was brilliant - They'd much rather accept subpar men than an intelligent woman.

But her parents loved her far too much to ruin her dreams.

Jack grew older though, and he didn't want to leech off of Y/N and her family's kindness, so he decided to brave the world for himself; Y/N supported everything he did. They would send each other letters weekly and Jack would tell her of his new studies and work, until finally, he received his first salary and could afford to invite his pretty lady to a nice cup of tea and some cake at his favourite restaurant.

Now in their early twenties, Jack grew a moustache, though still small, yet stylish enough for a gentleman like him, and he bought some nice clothes for himself; He didn't want to embarrass Y/N when they'd go out.

This time though, Y/N's usual bright aura was a little dimmer; A myriad of colours there, some pretty some less so; That gorgeous soft pink was still there, over her heart, but that brilliant blue was faded. The majority of her spirit was taken over by the colour of deep sadness. "It really is silly, you know? A single woman was able to abuse the loophole in our University system, and they quickly shut that opportunity for the rest of us. Not fair, is it?" she sighed, stirring the tea absent-minded with the honey spoon. "It's their loss. You would have been a wonderful medic. The field needs someone with your brilliance." Jack comforted her in his gentle and refined tone. "Well... I suppose all I can do now is to continue studying as a hobby and see if I live long enough for an opportunity like this." the young man picked her small hand in his own, squeezing it tenderly before placing a small kiss on her fingers. "The world is constantly progressing, My Lady. I am sure, soon enough, such an opportunity will present itself soon. People like you deserve only the best in life." he couldn't help but gaze in awe as that sadness was quickly overpowered by that lovely pink, every time he spoke sweet words to her. Could this emotion be...? Could it, really? "I dearly hope so, Jackie."

And sure enough, it did happen, once the London Royal Free Hospital School of Medicine was the first to accept women to study and practice medicine in their classrooms and hospital words - It became the first School of Medicine for Women. Y/N was the happiest she's ever been, and her aura looked like the most gorgeous Sunset, with the pink of love and the gold of deep happiness, and a blue of pride and content. She was so happy, in fact, that she celebrated with Jack and her parents at one of the most expensive restaurants in London.

Every time they would meet, she was overwhelmingly beautiful, and Jack couldn't contain his love for her any longer. "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest!" he quoted Shakespeare to her, as they walked through the flower gardens of her home. For once, it was time for her to have her porcelain cheeks all warm and flustered, as they looked at each other, the gentle light of the golden hour caressing them. "I may not have status, nor wealth, but my bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." Y/N felt breathless as so deeply in love; If only their beautiful love story won't turn the same way as that of Romeo and Juliet. "Oh, Jack. I've loved you since the day I first met you, when we were children. There is no one else other than you that I would wish to spend my life with." and her parents hoped to have Jack as a groom, for there was no one alive that could love and cherish their little girl the way Jack did.

All was well, and Y/N was experiencing pure bliss; Not only was her love life perfect, but her studies were excellent. But with practicing in the hospital, came returning home at late hours into the night, and everyone knew how unsafe the streets of London could be, especially for young women, let alone beautiful and rich like Y/N. Come 1888, a serial killer began terrorizing London, massacring poor women who worked in the sex industry. He wasn't just killing them - He was mutilating them, expertly removing their wombs, and when his sick fantasies were done, he'd discard them on the ground, with their legs open for all to see their shame. By November, already five women were murdered, and for the first time, Jack could see not only the deep Purple Fear taking over his lover's aura, but her unsettling was visible on her face and demeanour also.

"This is horrible, absolutely horrible!" Y/N moaned in distress. "How could one man be so cruel as to torture someone like this - Five someones, no less!" the woman sighed, sipping on her calming tea. Thankfully, Miss Alice, one of their favourite bakery's employee, came over with their apple pie. Jack's reaction was so childlike and pure that Y/N felt a little more at ease. "Jack the Ripper is at it again, huh... How scary." Alice agreed with Y/N. "Present fears are less than horrible imaginings. It's from Macbeth, by William Shakespeare. Monsters created by the human imagination are often scarier than the real ones. If we found out his true identity, Jack the Ripper may turn out not to be that big of a deal, hm?" Jack smiled gently at Alice. "Oh, that makes sense." she nodded, before being distracted by two journalists working on the Jack the Ripper case, on the table nearby, who ran away quickly to continue their work.

From the opposite side of the street, the trio watched as a young lady selling newspapers was shamelessly pushed aside, causing her to fall to the ground, dropping one of the papers in a small puddle of water, ruining half of it. Her distress was great - She would be losing her money, instead of earning some. But Jack went over to her, and smiled tenderly, offering her a coin for the paper, before returning to his coffee. He knew what it was like, starving and needing to do anything to survive - Now that he could afford a better life, he tried to help anyone who deserved, like this Miss Sophie.

"That girl... Her name is Sophie. She recently lost her mother, and because her father is a drunkard who refuses to work hard, she now does all sorts of jobs in order to support her little brother." Y/N couldn't help but look at her with a saddened look. "Is there no way we can help her?" she found herself whispering. "By the way, you're a kind person. You bought the same newspaper as the one you were just reading." Alice smiled proudly at Jack. Jack simply looked down, hiding his smile. "I just felt... Like reading the same newspaper again." he demurely replied. "Oh no, it's getting late. Forgive me, Jack, my classes are starting soon. I will be coming home late tonight, so please don't wait for me." she rushed up on her feet, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. "I hope you sleep well tonight." "I hope you have an easy day at the hospital today, my darling." Jack blushed softly, smiling back and waving her goodbye, watching as she rushed for the nearest carriage. "You are one lucky man, Mr. She's quite the lovely lady." Alice giggled at him. "Yes, I truly am lucky."

That night, Y/N wasn't going to be so lucky one night, when she left the hospital at such a late hour into the night, on a rather chilly night. Y/N kept a shawl over her head, terrified out of her mind and continuing to sing a little tune in her head, a lullaby that her mother always sang her. It never failed to give her some courage, even when she was petrified with fear. So was now, as she rushed down the cobbled alleys of London.

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away

Her heart trembled, repeating that lullaby over and over again - Until she got called by a man's voice. She gulped. "Oi, missy." she could feel his terrifying breath on the back of her neck. "How much?" "H-How much wh-what?" her body was frozen with fear; The man could easily run her down and overpower her if he wanted to. "How much do you sell your filthy whore body for?"

Y/N couldn't even scream for help as the stranger slammed a chloroform napkin over her nose, holding an iron grip on her body. She couldn't even struggle, he was far too strong for her. "Gah, whenever a dirty little slut like you is near me, my whole body gets incredibly itchy." Y/N felt her vision warping and her body growing progressively lax. "There's nothing to be afraid of. I'll help you. I'll set your soul free from that disgusting body of yours, so that you can go to heaven..."

No matter how much she prayed to be rescued by Jack or her parents, her consciousness faded, and she was left a prey to Jack the Ripper. The culprit dragged her to his home, stripping her naked and placing her on a wooden table in his work room. The walls were plastered with tens and tens of perverted pictures of the women he mutilated over the years. The killer was humming a little tune as he prepared his utensils and camera, ready to rip her to shreds so that the world can see her for the whore she truly is. "I will cleanse you from your sins. I will cleanse this whole world, on God's behalf." he grinned wickedly, gazing upon the face of the woman afflicted by a deep sleep. "But you Gods, will give us some faults to make us men." the killer immediately turned to the intruder, threatening him with a knife. "However... From those faults, ultimate tragedy is born. It's rather ironic." Jack hummed softly. "Don't come any closer! Just what the hell are you doing in another person's apartment?!" the journalist turned killer, Luke Evans, shouted at him. "What am I doing? I'm here to bring my soon-to-be wife at home, you see. I feared she might run into danger when returning from the hospital, and I wished to walk her back to safety. Alas, you caused her great distress and even endangered her life. That, I cannot forgive."

Luke simply grinned wickedly at Jack, threatening to kill him - He knows who he truly is, so he must be eliminated. He was pretty good with a knife, no wonder, considering how many people he killed. Jack would be the first man he disposes of - Or so he'd wish.

"The colour of the emotions that this eye can see... They are works of art that only I can create." Jack smiled, pointing at his crimson left eye. "Such magnificent malice." his smile turned into a mad hatter grin, watching the blood dripping from his piano wire after slicing off the journalist's arm clean. As he attempted to run, Jack threw two of his own scalpels into the back of his shins, causing him to topple over on the ground.

Jack watched as the killer slumped on the ground, his back against the wall; And he sat on his lap, cradling his face. "There are two things on earth, more beautiful than anything. One, is the sunset colour of pure love that my darling Y/N has whenever she looks at me..." Jack huffed in amusement. "And the other... It's that moment when all other emotions are overtaken and dyed in the colour of fear." he grinned impishly. "Anger. Envy. Hate. Disdain. Arrogance. All this time I've been looking for a person who had nothing but filthy emotions residing within them - And you were superb. Now let me see it, Jack the Ripper." he placed the tip of a small knife in the middle of his forehead. "Now please try to imagine how this knife penetrates deeply... Into that brain of yours." not Luke's shrieks, nor his sobbing and tears could stop Jack from slowly pushing the blade deep inside his skull, until he was reduced to nothing but a blinding purple of Fear, and then death. "EXCELLENT! WHAT A NICE COLOUR!"

Jack's delight was great, but now that Jack the Ripper was dead, he had to get his darling Y/N out of this hell. He gazed upon her, laying there, on the wooden table, covered by a single filthy sheet - What a disgusting wretch, attempting to soil her, even daring to associate her pureness and innocence with that of a whore - As though those poor women were selling their bodies because they wanted to, not out of need of survival. "My darling, I have failed you. Forgive me." though it felt awful, looking upon her gorgeous body, untouched by any man - He had to dress her back in her pretty clothes and return home. Somewhere on the table though, he found all of Luke's savings, and he grinned. He wrote a quick letter to Miss Sophie, and was ready to make an Anonymous donation.

Jack held Y/N up in his arms like a princess before setting the apartment aflame, along with all of the evidence of the murder... Or the identity of the serial killer. "London bridge is burning down... Burning down, burning down. London bridge is burning down... My Fair Lady." he hummed as he casually walked through the busy streets of London, and towards the manor.

The man felt a bit of stirring in his strong arms, and he smiled; Y/N was awaking. She fluttered her beautiful eyes open, only to squeal and attempt to struggle away.

You are my sunshine My only sunshine You make me happy When skies are gray You'll never know, dear How much I love you Please don't take My sunshine away

That lullaby... That voice... "Jack?!" she calmed down as she looked up at his smile. "Wh-What happened?" "I went over to the hospital to walk you home, but by the time I arrived, you were asleep in a chair. Must have been a pretty exhausting night, hm? Don't worry, my sweetling. I got Alice's famous Apple Pie with Cheddar Cheese, and the sweetest tea, just for you. You can sleep after you ate a little." Jack reassured her, speaking in the gentlest voice he could muster. "R-Really? I fell asleep? Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry, you should have woke me up! You didn't have to carry me so long, your arms must be killing you!" the man smiled at her adorable worrying, shaking his head. "A gentleman always takes care of his darling Lady." he hummed proudly. "You're always safe with me." "Oh, Jack." she threw her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face in his shoulder. "I just had the most awful dream. The whole thing with Jack the Ripper must have truly scared me half to death." she was clearly still in distress. Hopefully, for as long as she thinks it was just a dream, she can rest easy. "I dreamt that I was walking home from the hospital, and this guy kidnapped me and tried to kill me. It was awful, so awful." "I kiss thee with a most constant heart." Jack pulled his lady into a sweet kiss, shifting her mind away from such a nightmare. “A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.” "If this is your way of telling me not to worry, then I love it." she giggled so adorably, that Jack could see not a single trace of that fearful purple anywhere. What a success.

And as promised, he returned her home, placing her on her bed and allowing her time to change in her sleeping wear as he brought over that famous apple pie and brewed her tea. Though it was already around afternoon, he was content with just laying in bed next to her, holding her close to his chest and soothing her mind, caressing her hair. She looked so peaceful, sleeping like that. So beautiful, so innocent, glowing a wonderous blue, content and calm.

Come the next afternoon, Jack brought Y/N over to the flower garden, her favourite place; As the Sun began to set, and the sky's colours mimicked Y/N's beautiful emotions, the silver haired man fell on one knee. “I would not wish any companion in the world but you. I do love nothing in the world so well as you - is not that strange? Nay, for love comforteth like sunshine after rain. Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life.” he took out a velvety box, revealing a beautiful ring, golden, with a pink gem, symbolising the gentle colour of the love they shared. "Y/N, my darling, you are my most beloved sunshine, in this bleak, grey world. Will you marry me?" Y/N felt tears streaming down her cheeks as she squealed a loud 'Yes!' and threw herself into his arms. "I love you so much, Jack. There's no one else I'd want to live my life with, but you."

With one true love's kiss, Jack and Y/N sealed their eternal love for each other; Her parents were just as happy for them, completely ignoring the scrutiny and scolding from the other nobles for not marrying their daughter for political reasons. Their wedding was small and intimate, not wanting to involve the whole damn high society and have their perfect moment ruined by the gossips of those jerks.

Life couldn't be better for them; Truly, two souls bound for eternity, in life and above, were to be forever happy...

Though just like the tale of Romeo and Juliet, no love is eternal. Y/N's parents might have allowed them to marry, but life did not allowed them a long life of joy. No matter how much Jack wanted to shield his darling wife from the knowledge of his secret identity, an assassin for the Government, taking down whatever big guy might terrorise the underground... The way he killed Jack the Ripper, the way he took down a cannibal knight who ate children, and a terrorist organisation naming themselves Mother Goose...

Alas, these last ones not only almost killed him by blowing up the bridge he was standing on... But they did the unthinkable. As Jack returned to Y/N's manor one evening, giddy to gift her the pretty fan he found in a new fashion store that opened on the main street, he saw a large fire up the hill. Though horrified, Jack rushed up the hill and to the manor, yelling Y/N's name desperately, but no one answered. He could barely see, his eyes blurred with tears from the stinging smoke and the scared tears. He foolishly burst inside the burning mansion, searching for Y/N and her parents. They were all lying on the ground, dead, in a pool of their own blood. The poor man had to drag their bodies outside, all by himself, though Y/N's he held on, sobbing as he held onto her tightly, his tears raining down on her.

Why? Just, why? Why her? Why them? Y/N and her family were known to be the kindest of the noble families, so why would anyone want them death? It wasn't fair; Why were the most beautiful souls the ones ripped away from existence so cruelly? Why was he not allowed any lasting happiness? What did he do wrong in this life, or before even being born, that he remained so unfortunate, and continued to bring misfortune to everyone he encountered? His mother, his father, Anne, Y/N, even that little lady Sophie from whom he just bought a newspaper and sent some money. None were safe from him.

“When you depart from me, sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.” were his last words to his wife, the last thing he had in her memory being the necklace she gifted him as children.

When he died, or how, none cared, for Mr. Anonymous was no one; He was just a ghost, a phantasm, wandering about aimlessly, barely surviving, all alone in the world, with the only comfort to caress his heart being the criminals he killed, and the perverted satisfaction he got out of seeing that magnificent shade of purple that only the fear overwhelming them could create.

When next he woke up, he was in a gazebo, drinking tea, and a lady named Brunhilde spoke to him. He was to become one of Humanity's fighters in this fight for mankind's survival - Ragnarok, the fight between Gods and Humans. She explained how he can only hurt a God with the aid of Divine Treasure weapons and what not; Though, when asked how to address him, he simply smiled.

Jack the Ripper, the famous Prostitute Killer.

Yeah, that name suited him well enough.

He will be battling in the fourth round against the mighty Heracles, who graciously agreed to transform the arena into a perfect mimicry of London, and with the aid of the little Valkyrie lady, Hlokk, he had every chance to win - If he played his cards right. He only wondered what Y/N might think, if she were to see him under the alias of Jack the Ripper, the man who almost killed her. Fairly speaking, because of his involvement with Mother Goose, he DID end up indirectly causing her death, and for that, he is eternally regretful.

The whole lot of humanity was not only confused, but enraged also - Why would they send the scummiest vermin to ever walk the earth to represent them in a fight? His Godly opponent also was disgusted, seeing that he had to fight not a respectable, honorable warrior, but... A bloodthirsty serial killer who ripped the lives of so many innocent women.

"Jack...!" though he couldn't hear through his fight, someone was shocked to see the love of her life having taken the alias of a disgusting killer, along with such witty tricks which he came up with on the go, constantly lying about his weapon, using piano wires along with countless knives, deceiving the God and so much more. But this Heracles was a resilient powerhouse, and when he expected least, Jack got his precious monocle destroyed. Ahh, this monocle he had was to honour the legacy of his dear father-in-law, what a shame. Now the whole world had to see his crimson eye, and that perverted love for colourful emotions he had.

Y/N only stared at the man before her, surprised to see his true character unfold; In a way, he was a complete other person - But in other ways, he was the same Jack Smith he knew. How confusing. Still, she was going to root and cheer for the man she loved, for her heart would clench in sheer terror whenever he'd get hurt, same as when he climbed up the Big Ben clock, only to make the whole building collapse on the God. What an insanely shrewd scheme, yet it didn't yet defeat Heracles.

Finally, Jack was forced to admit, the true Divine weapons was never any of the things he threw at him, but his own gloves - Practically speaking, the whole arena became a weapon to kill a God. Heracles, through this fight, figured out that his human opponent can, weirdly enough, see the colours of people's emotions - He was so flattered that he blushed, that Jack! "The colours of emotions that I can see are works of art that only I can create!" he declared blissfully. He spoke not only of the beauty that his wife's love for him was, but also, the excellent shade of purple that only sheer fear could generate. "You... Have lost." Heracles declared boldly, calling him out for giving into despair, allowing himself to succumb to the hedonistic pleasures of killing. For the first time, Jack could see such a pure colour of a remarkable Gold, like the Sun. Heracles loved humans so much, even despite their flaws and foolishness. He only ever wanted to bring them on the right path, to save them. He loved humans with all his heart.

This emotion... This sunset of colours... Jack never even dreamt that he would see it again! The colour of his darling Y/N! Right in front of him, in the guise of his opponent! "Jack the Ripper - I will save you from your suffering!" with such a bold statement, Heracles called forth the Hounds of Hades; High gamble, high risk, high reward - Though no matter how sneaky Jack was, not even he was safe from the God's mighty hits, and he received a powerful punch to the face. He tried to run away, using the grappling hook, but mid-jump he got punched away by the God, and he fell to the ground, impaling his torso into the metal fence underneath.

"JACK!" his pain was unbearable, but her had to fight through the agony - With a groan, he managed to rip away the metal bar from his body, panting in exhaustion. "JACK, DON'T GIVE UP! YOU CAN DO IT!" what a familiar voice - Was he hallucinating? It couldn't be, could it? His sweet Y/N couldn't be there, watching him die for her, can she? She should see him in such a state, nor should she witness the atrocious trickery he was capable of, bringing down the whole damn building to crush the God.

Heracles' colour remained the same through all this, and though it amused Jack, his body burnt with agony. "Ahh, forgive me - I just missed seeing this colour so much! The colour of true love! I missed it so much since my wife died!" he grinned, using his own blood to paint it even wider. "Forgive me, but I'm going to change your colour!" "Just you try! Just you try to change my colour!" Heracles provoked him. "Yes... Let us create the ultimate finale!" Jack theatrically called out; They engaged in a ferocious hand to hand combat, and though Heracles was missing the arm that Jack cut off, he was doing just fine punching away at the human's frail body, sending him flying away, rolling pitifully onto the ground.

"JACK, GET UP! DON'T GIVE UP! YOU CAN DO IT!" is that truly Y/N? She was the only person that would ever cheer on him, right? If she was there, he had to fight. He had to win. From his blind spot, Jack created a diversion, using the pole he was impaled with to hit away at the God's face - He got roughly punched to the ground, and he wasn't moving. Damn, that was really painful.

"We should have never entrusted humanity on that scum of the earth." one of the humans in the stands spat. "I don't see YOU fighting for mankind!" Y/N hissed at him. A woman next to her, drinking heavily from a large bottle, also seemed to sneer at them. "Why don't you go and fight the Gods, then? Think you can do any better?" she held a worried look on her face. "That boy went to fight them, all on his own." "Miss, do you know Jack?" Y/N looked at her with wonder. Anne nodded, looking at him with pity. "Yes. He was a doomed child, birthed at my brothel by one of the prostitutes there. The only reason she didn't abort him like the others was a silly promise with some script-writer named Jack Smith who promised to marry her one day. Silly woman, falling prey to nonsense promises from lecherous men." Y/N stared in shock at the worried woman, though now, some things were beginning to make some sense. "He was the one who killed his parents, didn't he?" Anne nodded slowly. "But he's not Jack the Ripper, I can reassure you of that!" Y/N declared boldly. "I know this because my parents took him in, and we grew up together. We even married at some point. And when Jack the Ripper was at large..." Y/N gulped, remembering that awful nightmare. It was definitely a reality. "It was our Jack who saved me from the real Jack the Ripper." she spoke softly. "It doesn't matter if Jack never really had a real name, or if he just wanted to take the piss out of people by invoking a serial killer's name as an alias. I know my husband, and he'd never hurt any innocent person! My husband has a good heart, and he's the sweetest man in the world! I have faith in him, so Lady, please, cheer on him with me." Anne stared at the younger one with deep shock, only to end up grinning and pulling her into her side. "What a lucky boy, finding a catch like you. I'm sure our little boy was truly happy with you."

With both Anne and Y/N calling out his name, cheering on him, Jack was able to smile, dragging himself up on his feet. "London Bridge is broken down. Broken down, broken down... My fair lady..." he hummed weakly, looking up at the night sky. With difficulty, he managed to drag himself in front of the God again, reaching to attack with his metal pole, only to get punched down to the ground. Finally, the opportunity arose, and Jack, with his hands covered in his own blood, he was able to use his own crimson life essence to impale his hands into the God's body, bringing forth his death. "Dear... God... That is the name of this technique." Jack smiled weakly. "I dedicated it to you." "You've been very impressive throughout this whole fight." Heracles' praise shocked the human. "What is the colour of my heart now? Has it changed?" Jack smiled dearly. "No. I have lost." the God's colour was truly magnificent, even in his last moments. "I will never change. Don't forget it. At all times I..." Heracles embraced Jack. "Will love humans." "O God, what a truly stubborn person you are." Jack's voice was filled with love as he watched the smiling God shattering before his eyes. "That was a fantastic fight. I'm sorry I shouted at you." Heracles was no more.

With Jack the Ripper being declared the winner of the fourth match, the little Valkyrie lady returned to her humanoid body. Though she remained a little guarded around him, with their souls bound, she now understood him better... But Jack had no better understanding of the emotions he was feeling after killing Heracles. "You can't even show sadness at such a sad time, can you? You really are a pitiable person." she declared, only to realise she was drenched in blood and desperately needed a shower. As she flew away, she warned him to rush to the infirmary, his injuries were bad enough.

With every step he took towards the exit of the arena, and even when he struggled to pick his hat on the ground, he could only think of the only two people who ever truly loved him, who ever truly cared for him at all. His mother's love was fake, he hated that pretended colour - But Y/N, Heracles... Never before has he met anyone as genuine as them. "If I could have any wish granted... I would wish to see you two again." he fell on his knees, his body failing him from the arduous fight he just had, though as he tried to stand up, he was hit in the head with a rock, making him bleed. Not only the Gods, but the humans also, were throwing rocks at him, cursing him for winning, for killing their beloved Heracles.

What appears beautiful, is filth, someone said.

"Hang in there, Jack!" out of nowhere, half of his wish came true, as he watched the silhouette of his most beloved person running at him. She rushed to throw her arms around him, but he couldn't hold back the groan of agony from his sustained injuries. "Damn, I'm so stupid - Forgive me, I forgot about your wounds. Come on, let's get you treated. I heard the doctors here can do magic that no human can, when it comes to healing." she put his arm around her shoulder, helping him walk. As more rocks were flung their way, Y/N's mother, father, and even Anne came over to defend them, opening parasols. "Silly man. Taking on the alias of one of the most hated men in the world. What was in your head, anyway?" she scolded him lightly. "Ahh, no matter, I'm just so happy you're alive." she leaned up to kiss his cheek. "My dear sunshine." Jack smiled, allowing himself to be taken to the infirmary. The medics took care of him, and when he was bandaged up and ready to go, he left the hospital wing. Y/N was waiting right outside, all alone.

With no words spoken, Y/N guided him to the kitchen where she brewed some tea for him. It was just like old times, when they'd have afternoon tea together. How nostalgic. "Aren't you mad at me for lying to you? Or for getting you killed?" "Nope." she popped casually. "For starters, I have no memory of the time of my death, so that matters naught to me. Even if through some circumstances, I was implicated and killed because of your envolvement in something, it's null. Secondly - I know the man I married. I know you tried to make me believe being kidnapped by Jack the Ripper was just a nightmare. And I know your real name isn't even Jack Smith." she smiled at his flabbergast expression. "But none of that matters to me. I fell in love with you, not any identity you chose to use at each moment of your life." "I don't deserve your love and kindness." Jack's comment only made her scoff at him. "This sounds like our first conversation, as children. Let's not have a repeat of that." she huffed. "Anyway, I was wondering - What colours do I have? And do you like them?" Jack smiled, a soft blush covering his cheeks as he held Y/N's hands, kissing them. "My darling, though you are my shining sunshine, the colours of your pure care for me burn bright like the sunset sky, and your gentle love is as delicate as the gem of your ring."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 22

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

It’s a flicker at first. A tickle in your thigh, along your pelvis, then deeper down. A pluck within, a coolness delving into your warmth, rough against soft. You moan through slightly parted lips, half a snore as you slowly rouse from your hazy sleep. A slumber so intense, you have no dreams, no thoughts, a rare peace.

The fire stokes hire, razing up your spine and nestling behind your stomach. Another breathy sigh, this one from deep in your chest. Your eyes snap open at the brush along your hip bone, the stirring of air across your naked torso, rob untied and open, a hand kneading your chest as another crawls along your cunt.

You lift your head, your eyes bleary, mind swirling. It takes a moment before you can make out the figure knelt on the bed between your legs, dragging his face along your pelvis. The latent flow of pleasure spikes and you swing at him, smacking the crown of his head before his mouth can stray any lower.

“Are you kidding me?” You exclaim, “are you stupid?”

“Hey,” Lloyd sits up and rubs his head, “what the f–”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” You snarl, “you think you can just… touch me. I’m sleeping and you just–” Another eruption of rage ripples through you. You pull your leg back and aim a kick at him, “you fucking asshole.”

“Jesus, calm down,” he barely keeps you from slamming your heel into his crotch, “I’m going–”

“No, do you really think this is how this is going to go,” you sweep the robe closed and bounce to the edge of the bed. You hug yourself as you stand, grunting at the effort, “you think you can just fuck your way out of everything.”

“I’m not trying to get out of anything, I’m trying to get in–”

“Enough,” you slap his chest as he gets off the bed, “you’re not sleeping beside me. You’re not even sleeping in this room. You can find somewhere else.”

“You can’t banish me from my own room–”

“I can’t?” You challenge, “what can I do, Lloyd? Get on my knees? Beg? Carry your child? I don’t get it, if you don’t care about this child, then why am I pregnant right now?”

He stares at you and has the grace to look ashamed, even in the low din of the night. His eyes drift away and he exhales, reaching to rub the side of his neck. He throws up his hand and shrugs.

“I meant it. When I… said sorry.”

“We both know that was only cause mommy told you to,” you insist, “and if you don’t get the fuck away from me, I’ll tell.”

“You’ll tell? What are you? A kid?”

“Well, if it’s the only thing that can put sense into you–”

“Would you just listen?” He snarls, “I am fucking sorry. I’m sorry I lost my cool. I’m sorry I flirted with those girls. I’m sorry you felt the need to go sleep out in the cold because we had one little fight. And I’m sorry I got fucking pissed when you fucked me and yelled your ex’s name. Don’t you be sorry for that, that’s on me, right?”

“How dare you. How fucking dare you. Don’t put this on me. You’re not sorry. Not to me. You’re sorry for yourself because you’re not getting what you want.”

“What I want? What I want keeps you with a roof over your head and food in your belly. Baby, if I didn’t want you, we wouldn’t be here–”

“Oh I fucking wish,” you sneer, “I fucking wish. Lloyd, are you really that fucking delusional? You think I want this? You think I wanted to come here and clean up your mess and suck your dick? That I wanted to marry you at some fucked up shotgun wedding? Or that I want to be forty and bloated with your baby?”

You growl and turn, swiping away the lamp in anger. It smashes as you fall back onto the mattress and grip your lower back. 

“I wanted to do something nice for my husband, you ruined that. I wanted to leave his cheating ass, you ruined that too. I wanted to make it on my own, work my own way out, you ruined that. You ruined my body, you ruined everything I had and it was barely anything,” you glare at the wall, you can’t stand to look at him, “you must be really fucking proud, Marion.”

He’s quiet. You hear the slow intake of air and the slower release through his nose. He clicks his tongue and shifts his weight, “no, you want me. We got chemistry, peaches, even it’s only below the waist.”

“Tell yourself whatever you want,” you grab the pillow, hugging it to your side as you lean forward to rise again, “I’ll go. I can’t have you near me right now.”

“No, you have the bed,” he says bluntly, “you and… the baby. I don’t wanna crowd you.”

You stay as you are, head low as you wait, watching him from your peripheral. He retreats, stopping at the dresser to slide open a drawer. The silence is thick and throttling. Finally, the door clicks shut softly in his stead.

You lift your legs up and fall onto your side. Typical, the asshole ruined the first good sleep you’d gotten in months.

💎

You dream of the grass and the sky. You dream of Dottie and her menagerie of toys. You dream of Harlan and his silent certainty. Lloyd and his looming presence, circling the distortion of scenes, pieced together from the fragments of your reality.

The chaos of your mind is splintered by a knock at the door. You grumble but refuse to break the surface. You don’t want to be awake, you just want to sleep. Your body wants it. You feel heavy but empty. Drained entirely.

The knock comes again and you cover your face with your arm. You groan and scratch the side of your nose. Morning always comes too soon. You roll onto your back and force yourself up, eyes drooping as you try to blink away the crust of sleep.

“What?” You garble as you sit back against the pillow.

There’s a noise on the other side of the door, the tenuous wobble of glass as it slowly opens from the other side. You swear you’re still dreaming as your vision clears and the wood swings back from the frame. Lloyd proudly enters with a tray, keeping it from tipping as he regains his balance.

He smirks as he presents his offerings, “ta da! All for you, Mrs. Hansen.”

“I’m still dreaming, aren’t I?”

“Oh? Of me? That’s a good sign,” he struts over and firmly places the tray over your lap, steadying it on the folding legs, “french toast, fruit, a little sugar on top. Oh, and decaf, orange juice, syrup–”

He points around the tray as he lists the content. You wrinkle your nose and look up at him. You’re confused. So confused.

“Why?”

“Why? Uh, why not?” He chuckles as he steps back. His dark tee shirt is powdered with sugar and a smear of egg. 

“Lloyd,” you say.

He sighs and shows his palms, “that’s it. That’s my apology.” He declares in a stunted cadence, “this is sorry. I’m sorry, so I brought you breakfast?”

“Yeah, but why?” You repeat.

He gulps and puts his hands on his hips, “I… don’t fucking know. I googled it and that’s what I got. Breakfast in bed.”

You blink then peek down at the plate. It’s not burnt at least. In fact, you’re surprised at the presentation. The sugar is sprinkled across the eggy bread and fruit, while slightly askew, is placed all around the rim. There’s even an apple cut in slices and arranged like a flower at the center. The hair stands on the back of your neck.

“What’s in this?”

“Egg, milk, bread…” he begins, “oh, come on, peaches, I’m trying. This is me trying,” he whines, “I don’t fucking try and I’m trying. For you.”

You’re not dumb. You know this isn’t just about you. This is his ego. He doesn’t like being left out and for the last two days, he’s been sidelined; no donut, no hug from mama, and no manicures. Your stomach gurgles in battle with your obstinacy.

“It’s a start,” you say curtly, “but this isn’t it, Marion.”

“Please, don’t call me that,” he pleads, “I’m begging you.”

“Marion, you know, if you’re trying, you don’t tell me what to do,” you pick up the fork, “so be a good boy and let me have my breakfast. In peace.”

[cryptid-ghoulette]

Day one - burn I had no intention to write anything for whump month, and then my brain decided to throw this at me last night, so here we are. Big thanks to @cirrus-ghoulette for organizing whumpmonth! (this is messy and mostly nonsense but enjoy) Contains - Hurt no comfort, mentions of fire and general negative self talk. WC - 528

He hadn’t meant to do it; it just sort of happened, and now he was left standing there as the flames consumed everything. He found himself wishing they would burn him to ashes, like he deserved.

He’d just wanted to feel some normalcy. He didn’t regret the transition at all, but there were days when he felt so lost, so disconnected from all things familiar. It’s strange how you don’t realise how much of a routine you’ve built until it’s suddenly ripped from your grasp. The feeling of a chapter closing, knowing that things aren’t ever going to be that way again, no matter how much you scream and beg for just a moment more. One minute he was standing in Mountain's greenhouse, tending to the succulents in the back corner—the few plants he felt somewhat safe around since his transition. The next, the room was uncomfortably warm, his head starting to spin, and his fingertips feeling... almost staticky. Somewhere amidst the sudden heat, he heard a scream, deep and primal. He felt hands pulling at him, dragging him somewhere, and he heard yelling, but by that point, he was too disoriented to tell where it was coming from or who it was aimed at. His head felt fuzzy, and the smoke was thick and suffocating, but he could make out vague shapes frantically running around him. Should he have been helping them? He noticed Aether running toward him, pure panic on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Aether just shot him a cold glare, muttering something about, “You’ve done enough,” before disappearing into the smoke. The screaming had stopped, replaced by the sound of someone sobbing—the gut-wrenching, soul-crushing kind that only comes from deep loss. Mountain. That was his beloved earth ghoul he could hear. Images flashed in his brain as he quickly put the pieces together, his heart sinking as he remembered what happened—why there was smoke everywhere, why Mountain was wailing like a wounded animal, why Aether had been so terrified, why his hands felt like they were full of tv- static, and his head was pounding. He’d just wanted to help. Just wanted to try and be in the place that used to be so comforting to him, a place that used to feel like a secret that belonged to only him and Mountain, the rest of the world falling away. Instead, he was now watching the greenhouse burn to the ground, not knowing if Mountain was injured or not, and there was nothing he could do about it except silently plead for the fire to take him too, but he knows he doesn’t deserve any such comfort. No, he deserves this. He deserves to watch everything he loves fall apart in front of him, for daring to believe anything could ever be the way it used to be. He deserves to watch it all burn to ashes. Deserves the way mountain will never fully trust him again. Deserves the way aether can’t look him in the eye for weeks afterwards. Deserves the way his pack avoids him, not sure what to say, blaming him for everything. He deserves it all.

[alteredphoenix]

Untitled DannyMay2023 "Campfire" Prompt (WIP)

A/N: So I was going through my USB Drive the other day, recently thinking of getting back into my Danny Phantom jam, and found one of my DannyMay2023 fics that I'd been thinking about.

This was for the "campfire" prompt, and one of the two fics I'd started but never got around to finishing it (the other was a darker take on the Fantasy AU prompt, featuring Vlad as a vampire and, if memory serves me right, Danny as a Full Ghost rather than a Half-Ghost). The main reason why I didn't was because as I was writing it I had that distinct feeling in my gut telling me it was going to blow up in word count AKA a longfic, a task I wasn't ready for with when the realization dawned on me, and at the time I was new to watching the show, so I ended up putting it on the backburner.

What you see here is what I'd written in the doc. It's a bit clunky (because rough draft), and there's a plot in here somewhere, and IIRC I was considering throwing Vlad in here (for what reason, I don't really remember).

I think this has potential, and I wouldn't mind going back to this eventually - once I actually manage to sit down and take the time to pick up where I left off on the show, that is, so I'm throwing this under my wips tag for the time being (that, and I'd figure I share it 'cause Why Not).

“Have you ever wondered how many people have died in these woods?”

Danny perked up at the words. He had been so engrossed in poking and prodding at the logs and sticks turning to ashy stumps to keep the fire going that he almost missed what Tucker was saying.

“Tucker!” Sam said. “We made a deal, remember? No talking about ghosts or Vlad or any of that kind of stuff while we’re on this trip! Especially with Mr. and Mrs. Fenton running around who knows where.”

Danny winced. Of course they’d go flying right out of the campsite and straight into the woods the moment they had everything – and by everything that also included the Fenton-patented defense perimeters – set up, functioning, and, most important of all, stabilized.

“Yeah, I know, but you gotta admit, it makes you think, doesn’t it?” Tucker added. He rested his elbows on his legs and leaned forward, twisting round behind him to glance into the encroaching darkness beyond the trees. “How many people do you think go wandering out there, away from a campsite just like this” - he emphasized this by jabbing his pointer finger down at the ground between his feet - “maybe with a Coleman lantern or just a flashlight, or carrying their backpack around, and never find their way back? Say they go to deep and end up getting lost. Maybe they slipped and fell down a ravine and snapped their neck, or their legs, or something. Maybe got a little too close to a river and got swept down it. Or maybe--”

“Tucker.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, holding his hands up defensively. “People have died out here in places like this – and some of them had to have been found by search and rescue! But how many do you think haven’t been? You can send all the best dogs and use all the best forensic technology in the world but some people might still end up missing. Their bones might still be out there. And you know what that means, right, Danny?”

Danny blinked with a start. “Huh? Oh, uh. Yeah,” he said. He had been listening, but he had also been staring out into the woods where the light of their meager little campfire did not and would not dare reach the all-encompassing blackness within. If anything – or anyone – was moving inside it, he couldn’t – and wouldn’t – be able to tell at all. Perhaps the FentonWorks ecto-cannos wouldn’t notice, either. The night, for all intents and purposes, was theirs.

He breathed in, and then breathed out. Nothing cold emerged.

“Imagine how many ghosts must be out there,” Tucker went on. “Not in the Zone, not in the afterlife. Just stuck here in the land of the living, unable to move on. Hey,” he said, eyes lighting up, “maybe some of them might even think they’re still alive and just don’t know it. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Sam sighed and slouched over. “I guess,” she groaned. “Jazz is so lucky,” she said. “She doesn’t have to hear any of this.”

“For now,” Danny said.

“Aw c’mon, you know I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer!” said Tucker. “You gotta admit, it’s a good thought experiment to think about!”

“Yeah. On any other given day when we’re not around a pair of ghost-hunting fanatics,” Sam countered wearily.

“And what day doesn’t end in y?” Tucker asked, nodding with all the wisdom of a sage three times his age. Sam responded with a grunt and a roll of her eyes. He sat up and unfolded his elbows. “Speaking of Jazz, she is coming back, right?” he asked Danny. “It’s almost full dark out. This is the best time – and the perfect weather – for s’mores!”

“Yeah, she will,” Danny said. “She’s just, you know, gotta make sure everything won’t go total FUBAR while we’re out here.” And made sure Mom and Dad behaved themselves, at least long enough until tomorrow morning, when they could actually see what they were doing. She must have felt just as he did right now just thinking about it.

“Maybe send her a text?” Sam offered. “You know, just in case she, uh, forgot?”

“Yeah. Maybe I should. That’s not such a bad idea.” He took his cell phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. “Ah good, there’s still signal. At least we’ve got something that’s still up and running in one piece,” he said, and unlocked the cell. His thumb tapped and danced along the keys.

Tucker leaned back and stretched out, first one arm above his head and then other. If he went any further, Danny thought, he was going to tip over and crash. “Oh hell yeah, I can just taste those s’mores! Gonna put those babies right up against the fire and watch them melt, oomph!:

“Don’t forget the barley bites,” Sam added.

“Barley bites. With ooey, gooey, chocolatey s’mores dripping all over to go…. Really?! What kind of combo is that?”

“Don’t knock what you haven’t tasted, Tuck! It’s very healthy and very nutritious and, to top it all off, not filled with processed sugars and fat.”

“Girl, you’re missing out. Come to the dark side and have a bite of real food. Just one.”

“Nah, no way. I don’t have to taste garbage to know garbage.”

“Hey, practice what you preach! Come on, just give it a shot. You’ll thank me for this later. I know you will~”

Sam blew a raspberry at him. Danny snorted, and then looked back down at the screen when he heard the ping go off. The text message conversation he started scrolled up on the screen, along with Jazz’s selfie profile picture next to it. It read: Yeah, I’m coming. Just had to talk down Mom and Dad from wanting charge off even DEEPER into the woods. This was accompanied by a frowning emoji that was rolling its eyes. As soon as he finished reading it, another text box appeared: I got the stuff ready, just need to go get it. You guys are good over there?

Yeah, we’re good, he texted back, and sent it. Yet even as he did, Danny couldn’t help but look back up toward the trees before them, surrounding them, and behind them, where the RV and the ecto-cannons were within sight, to the darkness beyond the campfire.

He exhaled again. Still no cold on his tongue. Still no chill to mist the air in front of him.

Danny pressed his lips together and looked away, back into the fire and its dancing flames.

[giggly-squiggily]

Could I request some Korekiyo x reader hurt/comfort? Like it gets REALLY FUCKING ANGSTY (As angsty are you’re comfy with :3) and then it gets resolved at the end? (Maybe throw some tickles in there 👀) thank you!

WHOO BOY- when I tell you I read this and said "Challenge accepted", I wasn't kidding! This..is really angsty hehe. Due to the contents of the fic, I didn't feel right putting tickles in, but there is a decent amount of comfort hopefully somewhere in the mix? Either way, I hope you like this angsty Korekiyo fic anon! (and if you'd like, I'd be more than happy to write tickles for Kiyo as I'm slowly falling back in love with Danganronpa and miss him)

@sevenincubistolemyheart @giggly-toybox

CW: Danganronpa V3 chapter 1 spoilers, angst, panic attacks, graphic depictions of the first execution, grief, loss, angst, mentions of illness, mentions of death (also we're ignoring parts of canon because I said so)

The crash of the piano closing rattled you. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. Around you everyone seemed to fall mute. You could see them talking, crying, shouting, but you didn’t hear a thing. All you could hear was the broken notes of Der Flohwalzer as Kaede slowly died before all of you.

You needed to get out. You needed to run, to flee from it all. You turned, slipping on your feet as you bolted. Bodies- there were too many bodies. The room was too hot, you couldn’t breathe-

Her body swung like a metronome. Long blonde hair hung in her face, hiding the anguish remaining. The lid of the giant piano slowly fell forward-

Your stomach turned. You clung to the wall as you tried not to throw up, head spinning with lack of oxygen. You were gonna pass out right here and now. Falling to your knees, a blood curdling scream ripped out your throat. How’d you manage that without any air you could only wonder.

“Don’t go dying on me now!” Were her last words, tears dripping down her face as she looked at each and everyone of you. Kaede- her beautiful smile wrecked with grief. She mouthed to you a soft goodbye just as-

“(Y/N).” Who was that? Who was talking right now? You couldn’t see- the world suddenly went dark. You heard your name shouted once more before your head hit the cold hard ground.

~~~

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room.

“Forgive me.” The voice from earlier spoke, so gentle but so startling to your shaken form.. “We only have access to our own rooms. I couldn’t get into yours, so I brought you to mine.”

Daring a peek, you found Korekiyo kneeling by the bed. He was a good distance away, dripping the last few drops of tea into a mug with careful hands. He was always so wrapped up- you could see the bandages were fresh. “Tea? It soothes the soul.” He held up the cup to you.

“Tea…right now?” You almost laughed. Then you did laugh, a hollow bitter sound. “Kaede just died and you’re offering me tea?” You smacked the cup out of his hand, sending the contents spilling across the floor. “How can you be so calm after- after all of that just happened?”

Korekiyo looked at the discarded mug, watching the hot liquid melt into the floor. Then he reached around him, pulling out a towel. “I had a feeling you’d do that.”

“If you did, why bother offering- What are you doing now?” You yelped when he pressed the towel against the stain. “That’s hot! You’ll burn yourself!”

“I’ve done it before.” He spoke casually, but you were already on the floor, taking his hand away from the damp towel before it could touch him. “Really, it’s not that hot.”

“Shut up. That mug was steaming!” You held up his hand, looking for wet spots through the bandages. “I think I burned my hand when I-”

That’s when you felt it. The slightest of tremors. Staring at his hand, you watched it shake within your grasp, the muscles tensing in his arms. They were so clammy beneath the bandages.

“You’re shaking…” You mumbled, looking up at his face. At first glance he seemed calm, but you could see it. The darkness in his eyes, the paleness of his cheeks above the mask. “Korekiyo…”

“Apologies. I meant to be comforting you. You passed out in the hallway- we all assumed the worst.” He muttered, gently taking his hand out of yours as he carried on dabbing the spill. The towel was no longer steaming, but you suspected it was still hot. “I don’t blame you- a sight such as that can be rather…”

“Terrifying.” You finished when he couldn’t go on. Your heart broke when he nodded, something of a shaky exhale could be heard. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s quite alright.” He reassured, but it didn’t make you feel any less guilty. Reaching out, you began to gather the pieces of shattered mug, waving him off when he started to protest. “I don’t care if I get cut.”

“...” He didn’t have much to say to that. When the spill was gone and the mug pieces were discarded, the two of you sat facing one another, you leaning against his bed and him kneeling before you. “I’m aware this is a…rhetorical question, but..how are you?”

You snorted, then immediately felt bad. “Sorry. I’m…better? No- not really. I’m numb. But I’m not gonna pass out again if that’s what you mean.”

Korekiyo nodded, and the silence continued.

“Was this…your first time? Witnessing death?” He asked, something small in his voice that put a stopper on your snappy retort.

“Was this yours?” You asked in return. Korekiyo seemed to sink into himself.

“My sister…I was there in her final moments. It wasn’t as…violent as Kaede’s.” He stammered some, as if saying her name was difficult. Hearing it was just as bad. “But it felt like it. It felt far worse, if I’m being selfish. She went so quietly and yet…”

“Her loss is so loud.” You finished, reaching out and grabbing his hand. It was shaking again. You squeezed it. “How did she die?”

“...Illness. She had grown weak so fast.” Korekiyo seemed to tremble. Tears rolled down his masked cheeks, leaving wet lines along the fabric. “One day she was smiling and sitting up, the next she couldn’t open her eyes. She just…left.” He choked out the last words with such grief it brought tears to your eyes, blurring your vision of him. “F-Forgive me…I shouldn’t be speaking of her right now. We just lost Kaede, and yet-”

You had closed the distance so fast. You weren’t even aware you were doing it until he was wrapped in your arms, your face pressed into his shoulder as you held together his fragile core. “It’s okay.” You whispered against his shoulder. “It’s okay to grief her too.”

Something broke then. Arms wrapped around you tightly as Korekiyo let out a sob. It wasn’t long before you were both crying, grieving the loss of Kaede, Rantaro, and all those who have come before. It hurt. It hurt so, so much, and you felt like you were gonna crumble away like ash at any moment. You hung on tighter, steadying yourself against Korekiyo as all the pain you felt since coming to this twisted game all spilled over.

Eventually, when you ran out of tears and felt strange for hanging on, you released Korekiyo, sitting back until you were sitting knee to knee. His eyes were red and puffy, and his mask was wet with residue tears. You were sure you didn’t look any better.

“He-eh…you know, I bet Kaede’s fussing at us right now.” You smiled, wiping your face as much as you could. “She’s probably pissed we didn’t get to hear her play a proper rendition of Der Flohwalzer.”

Korekiyo let out a shocked laugh, finding your eyes. “That’s terrible!”

“I cope with humor.” You shrugged, earning more wet laughs from Korekiyo. “Seriously though…I’m gonna miss her.”

“Yes..as will I.” Korekiyo nodded. “I’ve only known her acquaintance, but she was a lovely girl.” Something sad passed over his expression then. “I wish I weren’t so harsh with her before.”

“What’s done is done. I don’t think she’d hold it against you.” You tried to smile, but you felt so drained it hurt. Instead you leaned into his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “Hey…thanks for being there for me, Korekiyo.”

“Please, call me Kiyo.” He took your hand back. For once this entire evening, it didn’t feel cold. “Thank you too. You’ve..helped me in more ways than you know.”

Once again, you’ve fallen into silence. Your chest hurt, your face burned and your head felt like you smashed it through several concrete walls. You were sure Korekiyo wasn’t doing any better.

“I can’t stay for the night. The bear’s orders.” You groaned, burying your face into the soft fabric of his shoulder. “But could I stay here with you? Until he makes me leave?”

Korekiyo didn’t answer. He didn’t have to- not verbally. He simply got comfortable, letting you lean fully into him as he leaned into you. Your hands stayed interlocked as you lounged in comfortable silence.

For the first time since coming here, you felt safe.

Thanks for reading!

[blackwolfstabs]

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 6

TIME

Tara listens to her sister and mother fight… again, but when things get reckless, she intervenes.

Tara - age 11 Sam - age 17 references from my day 3: punishment

Tara sat at the top of the staircase, knees up to her chest with her arms crossed on top, listening to her sister and her mother argue in the kitchen. She should be used to it by now, but she never could shake the anxiety in her chest or the race of her heart. It wasn’t that she feared the shouting or the insults or the aggression her mother showed, as much of a stranger as that made her seem. She was scared that their mother would throw Sam out of the house. The more they fought, the more venomous their words became, and that scared Tara to no end. She couldn’t stay alone with her mother if Sam was kicked out. She just couldn’t. And so, whenever they’d fight, she’d sit somewhere she could hear what was happening. She had already decided that if that threat was made, she would get herself involved.

Over her dead body would anyone take her Sammy away. She didn’t care what she’s done, she was still her sister. She was still her number 1.

“How about an apology for all the shit you’ve put me through?!” Christina shouted.

Then Sam returned with a hot tone, “Me? Me, have an apology? You lie to me for years, drive Dad out, get wasted every night, and then take it out on me and Tara! Where’s my apology? Why am I supposed to apologize?”

“Look at what you’re doing, Samantha!” was the offended reply.

Tara could hear her mother’s hand slap the countertop.

“At least I take my shit somewhere else! I don’t sit here and abuse you or Tara for it! She doesn’t deserve that!” Her older sister spat. “You're a mother, so act like it! Get some damn perspective!”

Tara could only imagine the expression that had just come over their parent’s face at those words.

One more moment of tense silence, and then… “How did you become such a fucking brat?”

Christina’s voice had dropped low, making an icy shiver run down the listener’s spine.

“It’s not ‘how?’, you’ve got that figured out, it’s ‘why?’” Sam’s voice had dropped too, but she sounded more disappointed than offended. “Look in the mirror and you’ll find the answer.”

Tara held her breath.

“How dare you—?”

“No, how dare you?!” Sam started yelling again. “When did you think it was okay to give up on your family, your children?! It’s your fault!”

“Samantha Carpenter!”

“No!” she cut her off. “You don’t seem to get it, so let me spell it out for you! I am not responsible for who you loved and how you loved, and neither is Tara! Stop treating us like it!” She didn’t pause to accept any feedback. “You think getting wasted is going to fix it? You think this is going to fix it?!”

Tara jumped with a small yelp that had her slapping her hand over her mouth as the sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the house. She knew Sam had just thrown a wine glass. Something bad was about to happen, she could feel it. And she feared it would leave her alone forever…

“How am I supposed to tell Tara you’ve changed your mind?!” Her older sister screamed, holding a different emotion than anger. She almost sounded like she was about to cry.

Her mother only replied, “You’re just like your father!” 

“Maybe. But right now, you’re being more of a devil than he was.”

Devil? The youngest member of the household felt her chest start to burn that led to fresh tears coming into her eyes. Their father wasn’t a devil… Why would she even say that? Sam loved their father, how could she call him such a horrible thing?

All was silent, and for a moment, Tara thought about going downstairs to see what the kitchen looked like now. But then she went cold.

“Go ahead,” she heard Sam dare. “Hit me.” 

More silence, but Tara’s heart dropped. ‘Don’t.’

“If you hate me that much, then do it! Hit me!”

‘Don’t do it. Please, Mom, don’t hit her.’ She braced her spine against the wall, biting her lip in anticipation for what might or might not happen. 

“You’ve already done it before! Remember last year? When you beat me with a belt in the garage?” Her sister raved on, “So, come on! Hit me! ‘Cause you can’t hurt me anymore than the truth did.”

She had hit her before? Beat her? At that point, Tara couldn’t wait any longer. She bolted from her place and ran down the stairs, nearly skidding as she navigated to the kitchen. “No, don’t hit her!” She got both of their attention, which they seemed taken aback that she had been listening in on their argument. But who couldn’t? They were screaming at each other. She desperately looked at her mother, “I don’t mind if you drink!” Then she looked over at Sam, “I don’t mind if you go out!” Her tears became thicker as her voice started to crack, looking back to her mother, “But please, don’t hit her!”

Christina glared at her. “Tara, go to your room,” she ordered, “This doesn’t concern you.”

Her youngest daughter whimpered, hesitating as she looked over at her sister again. Part of her wanted to obey so she wouldn’t have to be yelled at, but the other part wanted to stay. She didn’t want Sam to be hit or verbally abused anymore. “It’s not fair, Mom…” Now, she began to cry.

Her parent sighed. “None of this is fair, Tara. Life’s not fair.”

Then, Sam snapped, her voice dropping as she stared at the older. “Yeah, but she doesn’t deserve this,” she growled.

“You, keep your mouth shut!”

But she ignored her, softening her demeanor enough to go to Tara. She pulled her in close as her little sister broke down in a small sob. “Shh, it’s okay,” she spoke softly as she stroked her hair. “Just go to your room, it’s okay.”

“Oh, don’t make me out to be the bad guy!” Christina barked, “She’s not a baby, Samantha, don’t pacify her! She needs to grow up at some point.”

“She needs a mother who will be there for her, instead of getting too drunk to even remember she has a daughter!”

Their mother’s eyes went dark and her jaw clenched. If looks could kill, Sam would be gone in a heartbeat. “Get out of this house,” she demanded.

Tara felt her sister stiffen against her.

“I don’t want to see you anymore,” she finished coldly.

And that’s when she lost it. “No!” Tara grabbed onto Sam’s shirt and clung to it as she blinked up at her. “Don’t leave!” she pleaded. “Don’t! Please, Sammy!” But Sam just stared at their mother, which made her turn her face to her as well. “I’ll go to my room, Mom! I will! Just please don’t kick her out!”

Christina scoffed. “I’m not kicking her out,” she assured, but her eyes were like daggers as she held her eldest daughter’s fiery gaze, “I just want her out of the house for a few hours.” She moved forward and grabbed her youngest child, tearing her away from Sam. “Let her go, Tara!”

The strength of her grip pinched Tara’s arms as she reluctantly was forced away. Her mother then trapped her to keep her from running back. “You’ll come back, right?” she whimpered, tears running down her face for the fear that she wouldn’t.

Samantha took a step forward, never breaking away from the stare she put on her mother. “If I find out you hurt her in any way,” she warned, everything from her demeanor to her voice resembling the one person that gave her such a dangerous reputation, “You’ll see just how much I really am like him.”

Christina didn’t seem fazed. “She’s my daughter. I’ll deal with her the way I see fit,” she replied.

“Your daughter. Remember that.”

Tara didn’t understand, but she didn’t care. She squirmed a little in her mother’s hold, but to no avail, for the grip just grew tighter. “Y-you both just need some time…” She exchanged glances with both of them. “To calm down… a-and apologize… Right?”

Her mother just sighed, but Tara could see the trembling of her sister’s jaw and the tears glossing over her eyes as she refused to look at her.

Sam inhaled shakily, and the heartbreak could be read clear on her face as she answered. “We’re out of time.”

That haunted Tara. Terribly. A cold, empty feeling drowned her. “S-Sammy?”

But her Sammy couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the desperation on her baby sister’s tear-stricken face. 

Time… So much time…

Lived.

Divided.

Destroyed.

Lost.

She turned around and led herself out the front door, slamming it on everything they once were. Happy. Innocent. Beautiful. Connected.

All of that was gone. And they were out of time to try and make it right again.

today's been kind of rough, so this isn't my best work, but I think it's decent enough.

All my best! ♡ - parker

[futurewriter2000]

The Daring, Forbidden and Evil - pt. 3

A/N:This one is a bit shorter but stay with me. It will get so much better as it increases. I have plans for this that you don't even know about

XX

It's one of those days when you believe the world is against you but after the moments of ager, you realise that it's actually quite a beautiful world.

You got up early. You had class and you were already running late. All up until you opened the door and saw an empty classroom. You couldn't hear yourself think from your heavily beating heart, so you checked the number of the classroom and realised that it was correct.

"Did I mess up?" you asked yourself and continued to look at the door, then thinking if they transferred in those two minutes you were late but that wouldn't be possible, could it?

Could it?!

You looked around at the empty corridor, finding no soul in your eyesight and you scowled, throwing your head into your hands.

You could have slept. You could have gone to breakfast. You could have done so many things after running to the other side of the castle to find and empty classroom.

It was one of those days. Now, you had no energy to move or go to any other class you had later on.

"I wish grand-mere was here." you whispered and sat down on the cold floor. It was moments like this that you missed your one and only family member that really cared for you. She would never transfer you for the last two years of magic school because it was closer to family. She would never put you so far away from all the things you have known in life. All of your friendships you had established, your projects, your true happiness.

Now, you were stuck somewhere in the middle of an awful weather, sitting on the cold floor with nobody and nothing there to comfort you.

Yes, you missed your grandmother more than you let on into the world. You just had no idea how to process grief at your age. All your life you felt the tears have been a sign of weakness. Even though your grandmother was the best person in the family, she was still a Lestrange and a Lestrange never cried. Perhaps that was why your father never showed much emotions except for you and your grandmother. You never saw him cry, not even on his worst days.

Sometimes you thought if he cried when grand-mother died but does he even know she is gone? Does he know his only daughter is somewhere in the middle of nowhere, taken care of her mother's side of the family.

You laughed a bit at the face your father would make if he found out you were with the Black side of the family, or the Malfoys. He preferred you to be as far away from that side of the family as he could.

"Nobody told you, have they?" you heard a chuckle from above.

You looked up and saw a bunch of red hair sticking out the opening. He was smiling sincerely, as if he was actually quite happy to see you and for the first time since you have come here, this smile sent a spark to light up your heart again.

You smiled widely as well, getting up on your feet and leaning over the opening as well. "You knew?"

"I didn't but I, unlike you probably, talk to my roommates." he winked and you rolled your eyes.

"We have different schedules for this year and we talk." you jumped on the shelf with one leg hanging on each side. He jumped as well and mimicked your position. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I was supposed to meet Fred but I found you instead." he grinned even wider, showing up his dimples that you had no clue he had up until he was this close to you. "Been quite stuck in a rut whether I should tell you or not, since you've got to keep your reputation."

You laughed and kicked his foot with yours. "I was joking about that. I'm a jokester."

"Are you now?" he asked intrigued.

"Oh, yes. There was a whole comedy show back in France."

"You're from France?"

"I'm from here but I grew up there."

"I thought they hid you away in sum rotten hole in Kazakhstan."

You laughed again. "You didn't even know I existed up until two months ago."

"I know... but people talk." he wiggled his eyebrows and you laughed... again. You just laughed with him, which you haven't really done in such a long time.

When you calmed down, you caught his eyes looking at you, observing you and so you asked. You asked because you didn't trust people easily. "So if people talk, how come you're talking to me?"

He looked away, gazing at the distance as if he didn't know whether he should make a joke or be serious. It was quite a conflict when it came to this but unlike you, he trusted people easily. "If people talk, why are you talking to me?"

"What do you mean?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

"You're with the Malfoys, I bet they told you all about the Weasleys."

You were stuck on the spot because sudden realisation hit you when he said that. The two of you seemed to be in the same position when it comes to reputation. One bad, one worse, one poor, one evil, but what connected you was one family.

"They did." you answered and pulled your legs up on the shelf, crossing them over. "But you're nothing they said you were."

He smiled faintly and jumped down, offering you a hand. You eyed it for a moment and took it. Usually when you took a boy's hand it was cold and clammy but not his. His hand was soft and warm, nothing compared to what you held. The only discomfort was the roughness of them. They were a bit harsh on the surface but when he grabbed your hand, it was firm and gentle - as if that roughness was only there to be there.

You jumped on your feet but he still held your hand. You didn't let go either. You felt as if your feet sunk into the ground and you couldn't move a muscle. Your stomach was tugging from the inside out and you could feel yourself sweat on all the wrong places.

"You're not what they said you were either." he smiled before letting go of your hand and walking away, leaving you there, melting into the ground.

[melissamasakari]

Confessions you didn`t notice

Chapter five. Solstice thingies.

The next week was quite routine. A bunch of small tasks, replenishing the warehouse, hunting for all sorts of monsters outside. Nothing special. And then on Sunday fireside Gale announced the grandiose construction of the century. According to him, the neighboring government had finally agreed with Portia to build a road to Sandrock. For this purpose, a huge bridge and transport network were designed. That sounded like tons of interesting orders and it was promised that orders will be posted tomorrow. For now, I can check materials and prepare.

So on Monday morning I already got the first specific task. Wow, that's a big deal. Fortunately, the deadlines are not as tight as is it customary with external investments. I made a plan, ran around abandoned ruins, and returned home. In the evening I heard a familiar stomp at the gate. Wow, who got here! And I already missed him a lot by now.

“Melissa, are you home?” Arlo kicked the gate a couple of times. Red-block-head, I'll just kill you! I just fixed the fence!

“What, smoking furnaces in the yard are not enough evidence for the great detective?”

“Well, knowing you, they are not. You can easily fire up the grill and go somewhere. I have to look after your stuff from time to time.”

“Come in, stop yelling over the fence. You'll scare away the neighbors' chickens.”

“You asked to knock. So I knock. But usually it doesn't help.”

“OK. What do you need now? Some great feats or something simpler?”

“Personal,” oh, that’s a smile. Okay, red-block-head, you’re off the hook.

“Did you broke new dummy within a week, or is something rotten in the warehouse?” I inquired, while trying not to show embarrassment and excessive interest.

“No! Are you going to the fest tomorrow? I got busy and completely forgot that there was also a snowball battle there.”

“Fest? Tomorrow?”

“Well, yes, Winter Solstice. We celebrate the end of the year, make wishes, and share plans for the next year. This kind of stuff.”

“We just didn’t celebrate this. There was something similar, but it was in the fall. Tell me about what will happen there.”

Redhead told in detail how they celebrate here in Portia the date that I usually call the New Year. The part with the big pot of shared soup is a little unclear to me, but overall it sounds very interesting. It's probably worth going. Wait. He just invited me to a public event. It doesn’t seem like a date; I don’t even dare to consider it so. But it turns out that we will be together in front of a crowd of people all day long, won’t we? Well, if I will not blush too much and stutter, no one will really notice anything. At the same time, I’ll piss off Nora. Moreover, I still don’t know what he decided about her, maybe he has a harem of little sisters formed through my efforts.

“How does it sound? Will you go?

“With you? Yes, with you I'll even go through the jaws of Death. And back.”

“I hope it's unnecessary. So, meet me at Alice's store in the morning.”

“Fine. Why there?”

“Approximately equal distance.”

“Fair point. I don’t need to run to the guild in the morning,” I nodded at the traditional chaos around the assembly site. “I have full bunch of orders until the end of the spring.”

On Tuesday morning I dresses up, grabbed gifts for friends and headed to the meeting place. Holy Mr. Peach, just how nervous I am! This is definitely NOT A DATE, why am I so worked up? Oh, there he is, waving his hand. Somehow I got there too quickly.

“Hey!” Arlo offered me his hand, inviting me to grab his forearm.

“Glad to see you so cheerful. That’s your favorite event, I guess?”

“Sure thing. A city hotpot is a big deal, especially when it's so cold and snowy. That’s nothing better than a hefty pot of hot, spicy soup in such a weather!”

“Is it so very spicy?”

“It depends on how much pepper and ginger the townspeople throw in there. And what?”

“Do they usually throw a lot? I don't really like spiced food while I can still stomach ginger or mustard. But I was sick tired of hot pepper even in Barnarock. For some reason everyone there was obsessed with it. What a nonsense, there is a wild heat all around, and they are still have to put it inside themselves also. Brr.”

“Then it’s better not to. Or grab a portion at the very beginning. Well, it's a pity. I thought you liked it somewhat spicy too. You've been cooking spicy food recently.”

“There was almost no pepper there.”

“And it still turned out very tasty. Maybe you can share the recipe?”

“No way! Then you will stop dropping by.”

“You don’t think I have no reasons to visit you other than dinner, do you?”

“Well... I don’t disturb public order. I don't eat kids for lunch. I don’t slander my neighbors. What else is within your responsibility?”

“Fires, for example. A disgusting thing. In summer, the meadows often burn. Come, help yourself before they fill it up. And I'll wait.”

I poured myself a portion, threw in a communal pot a couple of peppers myself, and together with Arlo we walked away from the cauldron to the bench so as not to disturb anyone. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed church attire in the crowd. I wonder if Nora was staring at me or ogling the redhead now? She was probably not pleased that she wasn’t invited by him. And Arlo didn't seem to notice anything yet. Great.

“Well, is it okay? Not too spicy for you?”

“It'll do. But after my intervention, it probably became much more scalding.”

“What did you add there? I'm not familiar with this type.”

“Duvos pepper. Two full pods. Remy once asked for a spicy crepe with duvos powder. Well, I still had some spare pods lying around.”

“Then I’ll run to try it before it was diluted. Be right back.”

While he was pushing towards the cauldron and fiddling with the plates, Nora suddenly approached me. Surprise. And what for?

“Are you enjoying the holiday?”

“Yes, we don’t celebrate that one where I am from. A curious event. Did you want something?”

“I wanted to challenge you!”

“To challenge me? Such an honor! Aren't you afraid of denting your robe?”

“I mean snowballs,” she hesitated. “After the hot pot. On the field.”

“Don’t you think that you and I are in very unequal conditions?”

“Elaborate.”

“As far as I know, you are from a region where snow is common. But this year, I think, is the first time I’ve seen snow myself.”

Very flushed Arlo loomed behind Nora. I wonder how much did he manage to hear? And how will he react.

“That didn’t stop you from running with everyone else at the last festival.”

“It didn’t hurt to run. But it was inconvenient for you to hide.”

“And I wasn’t hiding at all! Everything according to the common rules by the way! Well, do you accept the challenge? Or are you afraid of embarrassing yourself?”

“Ha. No way I'll refuse! If you want a battle, you'll get it. Just don't cry too much.”

“Are you chatting, girls? Great. I hope you two will become good friends.”

“We'll see, honey.”

Nora shuddered. She chuckled and, looking like an insulted princess, headed towards the gate. What a spirit! I hope Arlo won't be too upset when I’ll make her spit snow. Again.

“What were you talking about?”

“Didn't you hear?”

“In outline. It's quite noisy here.”

“Nora wants a snowball fight with me. Is it time for me to run scared?”

“Just drop it. She's a nice girl. Try to get to know her better and you'll see.

“I will try. But I don't promise anything. Cause I think we have nothing in common, you know.” Well, except for the same crush I guess.“Do tell me what do you think of my secret ingredient? I remember Remy even cried. I didn’t get if it was from nostalgia, happiness or l from mucosal burn.”

“It’s a fine brew. You should at least have given a warning, you hooligan. Otherwise you will have to be detained for sabotage. The children, over there, are just spitting from it.”

“You understand that your flimsy cage won’t hold me, right?”

“It shouldn't. But the fine to the workshop’s rating and the ban on taking government commissions will do better.”

“Oh, so you’re a sly one! You’re looking too pleased for such serious threats,” feigning offense I lightly hit him on the shoulder with my fist.

“Let's go, people have already gathered on the field.”

Now it dawned on me why no one cleaned the scenery from the last feast. The decorations were the same, except that the children had built more snow fortifications around. Today's snowball battle had half the time allocated compared with the last feast. I need to use it wisely.

“Well, are you ready?” Nora inquired capriciously. “I can give you a ten-point head start.”

“I reject. Make sure you don't need an advantage yourself.”

“Redhead, do calm down. You'll scare away all the townspeople.”

“Fine point from a redhead yourself. Are you on offense or defense?”

“I hope to have time to play both parts. Besides, I promised you.”

This sly blockhead first went to the side of defense and throughout the battle looked after and protected Nora from my tried. So, are they dating or not? If they are dating, then why did he invite me? Lost in thought, I missed the hard hit. Ugh! Well, now you BOTH will hear from me.

“Keep your eyes open!” Arlo shouted, made a funny face and rolled into another shelter.

I took the opportunity and landed a fine projectile into his “little sister”. Hey, he didn’t have enough time to cover her this time. And she asked for it herself! I'll make her cry later. I dodged her retaliatory projectile without any problems, as well as the Arlo's attempts to provoke me into a rash attack. Changing my position, I took careful aim, pretending to be aiming at him. As I had planned, he deftly dodged, exposing my real target for my attack. Nora was left without a hat. And then that sly redhead got hit in the face. Victory is mine!

“Kid, is it just me, or are you too aggressive today?” Sam slapped me on the shoulder from behind.

“Blame the hot pepper. Don't worry, I'm cooling down quickly.”

“Ugh, I'm not playing against you anymore.” Shaking out the snow from under his jacket, Arlo said, coming closer. Nora was not with him, so I can hope that she will not dare to take revenge soon.

“You signed up for this yourself. There is sparring. There is the Land Run. There are snow-fights now too. What's left there?”

“Fishing.”

“Ugh, disgusting! Any other options?”

“Ghost hunt. And the harvest festival.”

“You don’t participate in that two. I have a hard time imagining your attempts to grow a champion pumpkin.”

“I can eat up a champion pumpkin. But I do not want to. It's too sweet so I'll have a terrible headache.”

“Guys, the second round is starting, we’re dividing into teams again,” reminded Sam, who had observed our skirmish from sidelines earlier.

I didn’t want to go to the defense of the “castle”. Arlo kept his promise and didn’t play against me either. Somehow, completely imperceptibly, the game turned into “escape from the redheads.” Almost our entire team dropped out early, and the two of us really gave our opponents a cold one by the collar. Take that! Quite suddenly, evening came and it was time for the annual group photo. The townspeople flocked back, gathering under the Wishing tree. Wait, why did Nora decide to stand next to me? Is she trying to befriend me now? Was it HE who advised her to stick up to me? Hey, my opinion is not taken into account? Okay, girl, just smile. Hmmm, well, my face got somewhat too ghastly. I just hope Arlo won’t lay this photo on his dresser.

“Sam, don't go away yet.”

“I wasn’t going to; I’ll just gather our team.”

“Okay, I'll wait by the swing. Let the crowd disperse a little.”

Taking advantage of the respite, I rummaged through my bag. Luckily, all the packages are in place, so I can hand them all over.

“Remy, this one for you. I think it will come in handy,” I handed my friend the package, through the packaging of which the fabric was visible.

“New jacket. Cool, thank you, this is exactly what I wanted. And this is for you, open it quickly.”

Inside the small box I found brand new blue boxing gloves. Unable to contain my joy, I hugged my friend tightly.

“My turn! Here you go, little fella. It's your size, I checked twice. I know that your old one is completely worn out.”

“Wow! It's good that I didn't have time to order it myself. I'll be back in my favorite uniform jacket when it gets warmer. Now it’s your turn. It wasn't easy to get.” Sam pulled out a warm blanket with a picture of a horse from the bundle, beamed and hugged me.

“Thanks, kid! Remy, let's go. I'll help you with your knee, you’ve put a lot of strain on it today.”

“Arlo. This is for you. I thought you could use a replacement. This one should be sturdier and fit for a slightly heavier load,” I handed him a brand new arm stretcher with reinforced springs.

“You noticed then? I was just about to order a new one from you. Thank you! Now wait a minute.”

He began to rummage through the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Come closer. Here. Freeze,” he took a bright blue piece of fabric from the package.

Is this... Bandanna? Is it the same as his? While I looked at his gift in surprise and delight, Arlo carefully folded the bandanna in half and began tying it around my neck. He fiddled with it a little, straightened it, smoothed it out, and walked back a couple of steps to admire it. I'm sure I'm blushing A LOT right now. He carried it with him all day after all.

“What, Am I supposed to get hugs? Or did I guess wrong?”

“Why not? You guessed just right” I looked around, but no one seemed to be trampling around. So...OK.

“Then I’m waiting,” he spread his arms invitingly.

Gathering all of my courage, I rushed to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, reached out and quickly kissed him on the cheek, quietly saying “thank you.” Wow, his beard was so soft. And his herbal scent made me melt. Oh. Stunned by my determination, I just as quickly let him go, walked away to a decent distance and started running away, hiding my completely blushed face in my hood.

[inlovewithquotes]

"How dare you? How dare you let him take it?"

"I dare because it is my blood to give away; I dare because you did not exist for me then. Even if neither of you had taken it yet, I would still give it to him because he is my carrranam, and he has earned my unquestioning loyalty!"

Aedion went rigid. "And what about our unquestioning loyalty? What have you done to earn that? What have you done to save our people since you've returned? Were you ever going to tell me about the blood oath, or was that just another of you many lies?"

Aelin snarled with an animalistic intense that reminded him she, too, had Fae blood in her veins. "Go have your temper tantrum somewhere else. Don't come back until you can act like a human being. Or half of one, at least."

Aedion swore at her, a filthy, foul curse that he immediately regretted. Rowan lunged for him, knocking back his chair hard enough to flip it over, Aelin threw out a hand. The prince stood down.

That easily, she leashed the mighty, immortal warrior.

Aedion laughed, the sound brittle and cold, and smiled at Rowan in a way that usually made men throw the first punch.

But Rowan just set his chair upright, sat down, and leaned back, as if he already knew where he'd strike Aedion's death blow.

Aelin pointed at the door. "Get the hell out. I don't want to see you again for a good while."

The feeling was mutual.

All his plans, everything he'd worked for... Without the blood oath he was just a general; just a landless prince of the Ashryver line.

Aedion stalked to the front door and flung it open so hard he almost ripped it off its hinges.

Aelin didn't call after him.

-Queen Of Shadows