#people are allowed to continue to be wary

[personastrologyhub]

Understand the Ascendant Persona Chart

So i wrote this chapter today for an EBOOK book, that I'm writing, about Persona Charts , this is a chapter

Let me know what you think and if this helps you understand the concept a little better.

"Let me explain it like this, because it helped me grasp it.  Imagine you’re wearing a jacket. The Ascendant in your regular natal chart is the jacket—it’s what people notice first about you when you walk into a room. It’s how you look and act before they really know you. So as a scorpio rising, mine will probably be quite aloof, intense, and mysterious.  Now imagine someone approaches you, well in my case intrigued by that dark, intense Scorpio Rising energy (jacket) I give off. They stop you and ask, "Wow, What’s this jacket made of? Why do you choose it, and what does it say about you?  In this scenario, the Ascendant Persona Chart is where they start to understand the intricacies of that jacket, it's texture, it's symbolism, and its underlying emotional significance. The Ascendant Persona Chart therefore is like peeling back the layers of your (ascendants) first impression, revealing the deeper motivations, nuances, and emotional currents that influence how you present yourself. For example, as a Scorpio Rising, the initial impression I give off might be that of someone who is a bit aloof, reserved, even mysterious, with a keen intensity in the way I observe others. People may see a quiet, almost impenetrable exterior, one that doesn't easily give away its secrets. But if someone takes the time to "look closer" at the (jacket) using the Ascendant Persona Chart, they might start to understand the reasoning behind that mysterious facade. My Taurus rising will speak to that. Taurus speaks to the need for continuity so as a scorpio rising it presents a story of perhaps being(prone to cling onto things that are familiar, for the sake of stability,  resistant to change) Perhaps the jacket—your outer persona—was chosen because it offers protection, shields you from vulnerability, or gives you control over how others perceive you because like me (taurus) prefers stability and comfort. Maybe it’s crafted from a fabric of power, transformation, and deep emotional intensity—key traits of Scorpio. The deeper layers of the Ascendant Persona Chart highlight not only how you present yourself but also what drives you to maintain that presentation. What personal experiences, motivations, or desires led to you wearing that "jacket" in the first place? For Scorpio Rising, this might tie into a need for control, a natural wariness about revealing too much too soon, or an inner world so rich with complexity that you choose to keep it hidden from the casual observer.This chart is less about how you act and more about the why behind your actions and demeanor. It's about understanding how your Ascendant archetype helps you navigate the world—whether that’s through a shield of mystery, intensity, or resilience—and uncovering the quiet yet powerful ways in which you express your individuality. It's a map that allows you to recognize your own complex inner world and how it aligns with the way you choose to show up to others, often in ways they can’t immediately perceive.

The Ascendant represents how you begin your journey—your outward persona and approach to life. The MC is where you’re headed, the culmination of your career, reputation, and life’s mission. And the Sun provides the energy and identity needed to make this journey.

coming soon

- Mel Christina ©

[toyhousedramas]

The mod of toyhouse dramas has a sixteen foot long cock and eighteen sports cars, yesterday he saved me, seven orphans, and fifty orphan kittens from a tree, after that they admitted to me in private that they have the cure to cancer but don't want to release it until it's had further testing, it's absolutely coming however, I can't say when because it will reveal who I am though.

Well you told me this on an anonymous tumblr so it must be true.

[buckyalpine]

You know what I was thinking of all day? Comforting our sad baby Bucky who just wants a hug. He's tired from a bad mission. His body aches. He saw things he didn't want to. He could really just use something.

Even just a smile?

He doesn't have a lot of friends and most people around the compound outside of the team avoid him. Even those who'd worked with him for ages were still wary, scared he'd snap if they just asked how he's doing. He would have liked it, even just a hello in passing. When he walks by with a scowl on his face, no one meets his eye. If they did, they would have seen the storm that was brewing inside was not an angry one.

He just needed to be held.

When he continues to make his way towards his room, he's given a few nods from a couple of teammates but he knows they're doing it while holding their breath. He reaches his room and the damn is about to break, he hasn't been held in years, he feels so cold and empty, was he really so terrifying, no one would-

"Sergeant Barnes?"

A gentle voice calls for him, forcing him to swallow the lump in his throat. He knows that voice, mustering his best smile as he turns around to find Tony's lab assistant with a cup of chamomile tea in his mug and a file with the mission report he was supposed to fill out.

"Everyone's filling their reports in the conference room, I figured you'd rather have some privacy so I thought I'd bring it to you" You give him the same warm smile you grace everyone with, handing him the steaming cup, "and of course, your favourite"

It's too much. Normally it wouldn't be but he's never given such kindness but he always gets it from you. You're so unbelievably affectionate to everyone and he really doesn't feel worthy but today he needs it so he graciously accepts the tea and file with a soft thank you.

"and call me Bucky, doll"

You stiffen at the slight crack in his voice, frowning when he keeps his eyes trained to the floor. It wasn't unusual for Bucky to keep to himself but you catch his reddened nose and glassy baby blues and it breaks your heart.

He opens the door to enter his room ready to drown in a lonely storm when that voice calls again. Surely he was dreaming. He sets down his things, turning to find you still at his door.

"Bucky?" You enter his room, standing before him when he doesn't ask you to leave, "Are you okay?"

He doesn't trust himself, nodding and desperately blinking back tears. He wished you'd leave, he wished you'd stay, he wished he could just tell you what he needed, his hands fisted into balls by his side, he should just suck it up, what was he expecting-

"Come here" You whisper, your hand coming to cradle the back of his head, bringing it to rest into your neck where he can let go, your arms wrapping around his body.

Bucky doesn't get a chance to realize what's happening because as soon as he feels your touch the first sob escapes. He's hidden himself away in your hold, his tears wetting your skin with no remorse. He clings onto you like a lifeline while you coo and comfort him, playing with his hair and rubbing his back.

You don't let go, allowing him to cry for as long as he needs. Even after his cries turn into sniffles, you comfort him, pressing a kiss to his temple while he holds you extra tight.

When he's finally ready to let go, albeit reluctantly, he's instantly shused from trying to apologize. You don't ask questions asking what happened or why he was upset. It really didn't matter. You just knew. Bucky whispers a thank you, making a mental note to get you some flowers to properly showed you how much he appreciated it.

Of course you'd always just know when he needed it so he'd thank you again with coffee.

Dinner.

Dinner again.

Eventually, a ring.

You always knew what he needed.

A hug.

That was all.

[dixons-sunshine]

A Risk | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an attempt to hide from a herd, Daryl sought cover in an abandoned cabin. However, he stumbled across a woman that threatened him, and he soon figured out that there was more to her than meets the eye.

Era: Prison, pre season four.

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to near death, walkers.

Word count: 1k.

A/N: Requested by @nikkicloudie. I hope you like this!

“I said: Lower. Your. Fucking. Weapon.”

Against his better judgement, Daryl slowly and hesitantly lowered his crossbow, allowing it to drop to the floor with a dull clink. Once his beloved crossbow was out of his grasp, he raised his hands above his head in surrender.

“I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble, lady,” Daryl spoke up, his ocean-coloured eyes flickering between the gun in your grasp and your face. He was searching for any change in your demeanour, for any sign that you would attack. “Jus’ passin’ through. M’hidin’ from that herd that’s ‘bout two miles from here. M’waitin’ ‘em out.”

Daryl could see the contemplation on your face. With a mere glance at your face, and the way your grip slightly loosened around the gun, the archer knew he was not in any immediate danger. However, he still did not let his guard down. Perhaps you were a master of deception, and you were simply playing him. He did not want to risk it.

“Go.” you finally voiced after a good while of silence. “There’s another cabin about a mile up from here. If you leave now, you’ll make it before the herd gets here.”

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. “Nah. I ain’t riskin’ it. M’not leavin’.”

“Well that’s too damn bad, buckaroo,” you retorted, your gun being raised and aimed at him once more. “I’m not about to risk my s—my life for some stranger. Leave, or I’ll shoot you, I swear to god.”

“Listen, lady. I ain’t—”

Before Daryl could finish his sentence, a loud crash came from another room, followed by a cry. Was he going insane, or did that sound like a little kid? However, before Daryl could do anything, you turned around and bolted towards the source of the sound.

With a frown, Daryl picked up his crossbow and slowly walked towards the room you had disappeared into. He raised his weapon, fully prepared for an attack, but the sight that beheld him had him stopping in his tracks.

A walker laid dead by the window. You were down on your knees, your gun discarded a few feet away from you, and in your embrace was a little boy; the little boy looked no older than three years old. Suddenly, it all made sense to him. The new world gave everyone all the reasons to be extremely defensive, but you had another reason. You had someone you wanted, needed to keep safe.

Your eyes flickered up to meet Daryl’s, and the archer could clearly see how glassy they had become. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out that the little boy had almost been that walker’s next meal. If you had not appeared when you had… Daryl did not even want to finish that thought.

“You’re okay, Chris. I got you, Baby. Mama’s got you,” you murmured to the little boy in your arms. You gently picked him up as you raised from the floor and allowed him to bury his face into your neck, his quiet whimpers and sniffles being muffled. You looked back at Daryl, your expression less guarded, but more broken.

At that moment, Daryl had already made up his mind. You were clearly just a mom trying to defend her son from the harsh reality that was the world outside, and you had viewed Daryl as a potential threat, and you had every right to be wary of him. He supposed he did not look like the most warm, inviting person ever, and he definitely did not blame you for wanting him as far away from your son as humanly possible.

“M’from a place not too far from here,” Daryl spoke up after a few moments of contemplating his options. He continued when he noticed he had your full attention. “S’a prison that we converted into a community. It’s safe and secure, with ‘bout fifty people walkin’ around and makin’ due.”

“Is that an offer?” you inquired, your hand rubbing soothing circles over your son’s back. “I mean, I just threatened to kill you.”

Daryl shrugged and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. “I would’ve been more terrified of ya if ya didn’t point yer gun at me, considerin’ the world we live in now.” Daryl’s lips involuntarily twitched into a small smile when he heard your light chuckle. “I only have three questions for ya, though.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Sure. Shoot.”

“How many walkers have ya killed?” he began, studying your expression closely.

It was your turn to shrug. “I don’t know. A lot.”

“How many people have ya killed?”

A small beat of silence passed. “One.”

“Why?”

“Because I wasn’t about to allow him to kill my son.”

Your answers were more than sufficient, considering the questions you were being asked. He was about to say something, until he heard groaning coming from outside. He ushered you down, and quickly sprung into action. He closed the window and lowered himself down against the wall, right next to you. He turned his head to look at you, and saw how you quietly tried to shush your son, who had started fussing once he picked up on the shift in the mood.

“Mama,” he whimpered, instantly being shushed by you.

“It’s okay, Baby. Shh. It’ll be over soon, okay?” You turned your head and looked at Daryl, your expression desperate. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true or not, but I can’t live like this anymore.” For added emphasis, you motioned towards the window, where dozens of walkers were walking past. “My son isn’t safe like this. Your offer is just a risk I have to take.”

Daryl nodded. “I know ya dun’ trust me, but I’d never endanger yer lil’ one like that. Ya have my word on that.”

A few beats of silence passed. “I’m Y/N, by the way. This is Chris.”

“Daryl,” Daryl told you. “M’Daryl. And I promise m’gon’ make sure ya get yer lil’ boy to safety. Ain’t gon’ let nothin’ happen to him.”

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

I’ve been dissecting Ragatha’s character with surgical tools because I am not the least bit normal about this damn doll, and something that I’ve gathered upon rewatch is how much responsibility Ragatha has been taking for Pomni’s first day. Prepare for another character analysis about everyone’s favorite confirmed girl failure

Useless Lesbian jokes aside, it’s so interesting to me how much Ragatha cares about Pomni liking her. To the point where she believes Pomni’s terrible awful no good very bad first day has some relevance to how she thinks Pomni thinks of her.

At first I thought this was just the result of her people pleasing tendencies that needs everyone to like her for her to have any degree of self worth (no I’m not projecting, shut up), but she doesn’t seem to be this pushy about getting along with anyone else.

Another possible reason for this behavior was that she just wants to make the newcomer feel as comfortable and welcomed as possible to lessen the blow of being trapped, and she’s doing such a bad job of it that it’s making her think less of herself for failing. But here she’s specifically talking about the “horrible experience” of having to deal with Kaufmo’s abstraction.

Here Ragatha is literally writhing in pain from glitching after getting her ass handed to her by Kaufmo and she briefly stops Pomni from leaving to get the help she needs to apologize to her about having a bad first day.

Honestly, Pomni’s awkward response to this was hella fitting.

Like, Jesus Christ, Ragatha. Priorities girl.

When I first watched this, I thought her little apology fell under the same category as someone apologizing for hearing bad news, (y’know like a “I’m sorry your dog died” kinda thing) said in a way to express sympathy over a bad situation. But in episode 2, it really feels like she actually blames herself for what happened.

and I think I know why.

It was Ragatha’s idea to go see Kaufmo in the first place and introduce Pomni to him. We know that she honestly believes that participating in the adventures are essential to persevering a person’s sanity. And yet she didn’t suggest to play along with the game Caine left for them. Instead, she thought it would be nice to check up on a friend who was suspiciously absent. And was, according to what Kinger told them before they left, slipping off the deep end.

I know hindsight is 20/20, but these should have been major red flags for her that Kaufmo may not have been alright and they should’ve all probably stayed away. And I think she realized that too late, which is what might’ve led to that awkward apology to Pomni in the hallway.

Kinger is right to reassure Ragatha that Pomni doesn’t blame her for what happened (which is why she thought Ragatha was being weird for apologizing in the first place), but I imagine Ragatha is the type of person who can’t help but dwell on the “should’ve, would’ve, could’ve”s of life. So it makes sense that she would continue to take things personally. And I bet it got even worse after

…yeah. That.

Of course, I don’t think Ragatha could’ve known that was gonna be the outcome. But she was very wary when Pomni suggested it, loudly wondering if that was even “allowed”. But she went along with it cuz it made Pomni happy.

Whelp.

Yeah this woman’s self esteem so about to go into the negatives. Which is why I’m really hoping for a good heart-to-heart between these two. Cuz they both really need it. Ragatha especially.

I think it would really help her to know Pomni wouldn’t want her to feel like less than nothing.

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous

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“Woah-! Hey- What?” Tucker sputtered, hands flying out to his sides as though he needed to stabilize himself. Needless to say the abrupt teleportation instead of gradual vertical travel caught the Phantom group off guard. Danielle had started floating about a foot off the ground, and Jazz and Sam were looking around uneasily as a computerized voice announced what sounded like a series of serial numbers with ‘and five visitors’ attached to the end. Danny could only look over his hands curiously, as though he weren’t sure if he was still tangible or not. That hadn’t felt like going through the Ghost Portal, it had been much… lighter in feeling almost. And while he personally couldn’t remember going through the break in realm borders that had brought all of them to this realm, the others could attest it was much more gentle and peaceful feeling. But being gentle apparently didn’t excuse the surprise teleportation.

“Was that a teleporter?! You didn’t say anything about teleporting,” Tucker continued to fuss while Sam just tried to roll the tense feeling out of her shoulders and Jazz let out a slow breath to steady herself.

“Oops. Must have slipped our minds,” Stephanie noted, giving them a wink. And if she hadn’t currently had a mask over her nose and mouth Danny wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d added a tongue to that expression. He also didn’t miss how some of them looked mildly apologetic despite all the material shrouding part of their faces. They apparently hadn’t meant to startle any of them with that, so he couldn’t hold it against them.

“Have to admit, I was expecting a long drive,” Danny chuckled mildly, tucking his hands into his pockets. It hadn’t been that bad, and his relaxed response about the situation somehow blanketed the others with a layer of calm. Something that made Bruce’s lips press together in concern. At least Danny’s reaction hadn’t been forced that time. He really didn’t seem to have been bothered at all by the experience.

“This is a lot more cost effective on top of being faster,” Tim responded with a mild chuckle, deliberately not mentioning that it also would have been impossible to drive to the Watchtower.

“That’s an understatement,” Duke laughed, exchanging a look with the others. Their mannerisms caused Sam to narrow her eyes suspiciously, but before she could dwell on the matter too long Jon was unable to contain his excitement.

“C’mon! C’mon! Let’s go!” Jon beckoned, grabbing Danny’s hand from his jacket pocket and tugging him forward. It caused Danny to stumble for the first few steps, but he managed to keep his footing easily enough. Jon at least wasn’t pulling him too quickly, so Danny allowed him to drag him down the hall for now. He wouldn’t be able to keep up that pace the whole time, but for now he didn’t mind indulging in Jon’s overflowing excitement.

“Easy there, Superboy,” Stephanie chided, jogging lightly to catch up as the rest of the group started following them. Danielle even dropped back to the ground to walk with them, at least mildly curious to see where they were despite Sam and Tucker’s nervousness. This place felt a bit too clean, but at least it didn’t smell sterile. Just strangely unused. Like they were in a place restricted from the public. It made them wary, but at least they were with people that they felt they could trust. Everyone that had come with them from Bruce and his family seemed relaxed even if they also seemed like they were anticipating something. A fact that was lightly betrayed by Stephanie pulling her phone out to train the camera on the group, specifically Danny.

It caused Danny to snort, immediately looking away shyly even as Jon continued to drag him along. “What’s with the camera?” he huffed, trying to make light of the situation even though he wasn’t really fond of being recorded.

“It’s your first time in the Watchtower!” Stephanie answered, as if that reminder was the only explanation they needed. When Danny just raised a brow she gave in and gave a little more of an explanation. “The others wanted to see your reaction too, so I gotta record it for them. Don’t worry. Secure connections only,” she assured. She would be lucky to keep the video anyway considering they were in one of their most secure locations.

Danny didn’t see why everyone was apparently interested in his reaction towards being in a big fancy building, but just rolled his eyes and shrugged slightly. “I guess it’s fine,” he relented, just a little reluctantly. They had done a lot for him already. He could indulge them in having a prank video if they had to have one.

“Maybe she thinks because we’re from the countryside that we’ll be amazed by some big fancy corporate building,” Sam muttered to Tucker, her voice not quite low enough for the others to not hear her in the small space of the rather empty hallway. Jazz promptly shushed her and whispered for her to be nice, which earned snickers from Danielle and Duke.

“I dunno. A big city’s big fancy building might be impressive. We’ll give them some benefit of the doubt,” Danielle teased, not even bothering trying to lower her voice.

Stephanie just giggled when Jazz sighed in mild frustration, raising a hand to her head. “Don’t worry, Jazz. Sarcasm is a love language,” she assured, waving a hand dismissively. This wasn’t supposed to be a stressful trip, so it would be good if Jazz didn’t feel like she had to control everyone like they were children on a field trip. ‘When Jazz just gave her an apologetic but grateful look, Stephanie gave her a thumbs up and glanced to see how close they were to their first destination. “And you’ll see soon enough just how impressive our big fancy building is,” she partially announced, realizing they were just one more turn away from the communal dining area they had decided to bring them all to first.

As Jon subconsciously sped up, Stephanie quickly jogged far enough ahead of him and Danny so she could get a good view with her camera. The scene behind her was one she had seen many times before, so she didn’t even glance at it, focusing on her recording as Jon dragged a mildly protesting Danny out from the hallway.

“J- Superboy, not so fast,” Danny was starting to request, obviously feeling bad for having to put a damper on the lad’s energy.

But Jon had already let go of his hand in favor of running ahead to pose in front of them, holding his hands out to display the view they had walked into and chiming a cheerful,“Tadaaa~”

Danny didn’t need any more direction to shift his gaze further into the room, a particular sight pulling his gaze far past the tables and chairs and straight to the not actually a wall directly opposite to them. Without Jon to pull him forward Danny had slowed to a stop, his eyes widening significantly as he sucked in a tight breath of awe, his entire being captivated by the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on. He barely registered the rest of the group filling into the room after him, gaze locked on the expanse of space stretching out over more than half of the room’s walls, unobstructed by any form of pollution or atmosphere beyond simple planes of perfectly cleaned glass. Inky blackness mottled with blues, violets, pinks, flashes of color curled into clouds of distant galaxies. A freckling of stars scattered over the expanse, flaring bright in the absence of their own sun on this side of the Watchtower. An unearthly canvas of celestial artwork with a crisp clarity no camera on earth could capture.

“Woah… Interesting choice for a wall screen display,” Tucker commented, momentarily breaking through Danny’s daze while having noticed the same thing. How could he not? It was taking up 90% of the wall across from them, even curving to encompass more of the dining room full of tables, chairs and a modest kitchen area.

“That’s not a screen…,” Danny breathed in an almost reverent breathlessness as his body was kept still until now only by the small strain of disbelief telling him there was no way that was real. But as he was starting to subconsciously pick out different aspects of the universe that he could recognize, nestled in the black curtain exactly where they should be, he absently started to walk slowly towards the window.

There was no way.

But there was also no way anything like this could be fake.

“Correct. That is not a digital display,” Damian confirmed when no one else seemed willing to break the silence.

Danny had taken several steps away from them by now, stopping only because he realized he was leaving the group as he glanced behind him to ask for another confirmation to banish his doubt. “That’s a window!”

“Thaaaat’s a window!” Duke drew out his response, a huge smile as he watched Danny slowly realize his childhood dream had come true.

“We’re in SPACE!” Danny blurted, one last confirmation to solidify what he already knew. Energy from somewhere he didn’t know building in his form and causing his hands to raise halfway.

“We’re in space!” Stephanie chimed cheerfully along with him, no longer able to keep her giggles down any longer and giving a small jump. Something that caused Tim to reach over and take her phone to keep the recording steady while she bounced up and down.

“JAZZ!” Danny hollered, completely unable to hold back the pure elation that had built up into his entire existence, spilling over as soon as his doubt was confirmed to be unfounded. “WE’RE IN SPA-AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” His repeated exclamation broke into a single, overwhelmed scream of joy as he swung his hands in front of him, new found energy spilling out in a display of childish glee as he jumped up and down a few times.

Jazz couldn’t help snorting, blessedly distracted from the fact they were no longer within the range of Earth’s gravity by her brother’s childish bliss. She didn’t know what to say, not quite able to believe it herself just yet. But she didn’t need to say anything, for Danny’s hands stopped waving in the air to momentarily clutch his hair as he whipped around to look out the window again. And then he turned to her once more to scream a shorter “AAHHHHHAHA!!” of joy before abruptly leaping fully into the air, bolting across the room to plaster himself against the window higher than any of them could reach from the floor.

“Oh my gawd,” Sam gave an ugly snort, covering her mouth with her hand, Danny’s departure from them breaking her from her own daze.

“Oookay, now I know why you guys were being all secretive about where this place was,” Tucker chuckled, only partially able to catch a few words that Danny was rambling as he pointed out different parts of the universe he could pick out.

At least until he turned to look at them and shout, “I CAN SEE MARS WITH MY EYEBALLS FROM HERE!” before looking back out the window, adjusting his position and pointing. “AND THERE’S BETELGEUSE AND RIGEL!”

None of them could really tell what Danny was pointing to, only those who knew what he was talking about already and could find the planet and stars on their own could see them. But it didn’t stop them from laughing.

“Yeah, we wanted to surprise him,” Duke confirmed, chuckling while watching Danny float around the window almost like a trapped moth drawn by light, rambling something or other about a red star and a blue one and the difference between the two.

“And I admit it was pretty worth it,” Tim added with a grin. Had Danny switched to talking about supernovas now? And something about Betelgeuse partially exploding? This kid really knew his stuff apparently.

By this point Danny had flitted around to various parts of the window, trying to get a better view while he was able to. The glass was clean, and since he was in his ghost form he wasn’t leaving any fingerprints when he was smashed against the glass. But it still made it hard to see other angles, and he found himself wondering if he could survive if he went outside. He could become intangible after all, and that had saved him from being affected by rather extreme environments already. And the biggest dangers of space were the lack of oxygen and no air pressure. Things that also didn’t matter when he was intangible.

So after a moment of consideration Danny’s impulsive brain reasoned he could at least test his hypothesis, and he stuck his hand through the window.

“Did he just-,” Jazz started, squinting as she thought she could see Danny flexing his hand on the other side of the window. It was a little hard to see considering how clean the glass was, but he was unusually focused on his hand.

And then, after realizing he was indeed fine if he stayed intangible, Danny slipped through the glass all the way.

“DANNY!” Jazz almost screeched, running forward despite having no idea what she would do about the situation. So much for anonymity, but luckily no one else was there yet to hear her.

Naturally Danny couldn’t hear her, but despite that still turned around to wave at them, gesturing to himself and then the literal space behind him in just as much if not more excitement than when he’d first realized they were in space.

Bruce could only sigh away the sudden spike of panic that had increased his heart rate as his main charge just launched himself into the void without a proper spacesuit, and moved forward to rest a calming hand on Jazz’s shoulder. Raising a finger to his communicator, he linked into the channel buzzing about a ‘foreign entity outside the Watchtower’ alert they had all just gotten, addressing that issue first. “It’s fine, it’s just Phantom. He’s new. Green Lantern, can you come keep an eye on him? It’s his first time in space,” he reported, gruffly cutting through the buzz of startled chatter.

“Ohhhh, the visitor today. Gotcha,” Hal’s voice chimed back. “I’ll be right there.”

“Could have warned us he’d go outside,” Barry chided with a chuckle. “Good thinking to bring him this early if he’s that excited though. Where are the rest?”

“With me,” Bruce confirmed, looking down to make sure the other four were indeed still with him. Jazz still seemed about ready to pop from stress, but Bruce’s gaze was caught by the sight of Danielle literally vibrating where she stood, staring up at him with huge eyes.

“....Can I go explore the ship?” Danielle half squeaked when she noticed Bruce finally look at her. She was trying to be patient, and not cause trouble, so that they could see she could be well behaved and therefore wouldn’t have any issues at all with her request.

Bruce could only stare for a moment. Right. Danielle was a lot like Danny. She hadn’t openly expressed as much interest in space as Danny had, so they hadn’t thought she would have been that excited over it. But it seemed she was more interested in the Watchtower itself right then than going out to explore the surroundings like her brother.

“I can take her,” Duke offered, noting Bruce’s reluctance, and Tim nodded in agreement to join them, passing Stephanie’s phone back to her

With a slightly heavy sigh, Bruce just nodded in reluctant relent.

“Yeeeeesssssss,” Danielle hissed, grabbing Duke’s and Jon’s hands and running to the nearest hallway, Damien trailing behind them. Jon gave a mild squawk at being grabbed, but otherwise laughed and eagerly joined in on the trip.

“Is he okay?” Jazz finally managed to wheeze, still staring at her brother.

“He’s fine,” Bruce assured, figuring Danny had been smart and made sure he would be okay before throwing himself into space, and also seeing that the lad was showing zero signs of distress. It wasn’t at all surprising to see he was able to be out in space without specialized gear either. There were a few other people that frequented the Watchtower that could do the same after all. One of which was now visible through the window, approaching Danny. “Green Lantern will keep track of him and make sure he stays safe,” Bruce added, gesturing to the green clad hero.

Seeing someone else out in the void with her brother did a lot to calm Jazz down, and Sam and Tucker even relaxed without having realized they had been tense.

“Hey there kiddo,” Hal greeted when he was close enough to Danny to be noticed. He was keeping a polite distance from the lad at first, and making sure Danny noticed him just in case he was someone that startled easily. “I’m Green Lantern, and I’m just here to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t get lost.”

To Hal’s minor surprise, Danny just waved excitedly at him in greeting before gesturing to the Watchtower window, then the expanse of space to the opposite direction. The way he was waving his hands and his eyes were expressing Hal imagined he was animatedly trying to say something. But he apparently didn’t have any method to make sound be heard by others, so his words were effectively muted. A fact Danny soon noticed, and paused to rest a hand on his throat.

“You can tell me about it later,” Hal assured when Danny paused, realizing no one could hear him. “My abilities are what allow me to talk out here. Wanna see the rest of the Watchtower? I can show you around,” he offered. He might be able to figure out a device that allowed him to hear the lad, but for now he figured he could focus on letting the boy explore. Kids were easier to manage when they weren’t heavily distracted by something after all.

Hal ended up chuckling in amusement when Danny immediately began nodding enthusiastically. Raising a hand back to his comms, Hal faced the others inside and waved. “We’re gonna go sightseeing,” he reported to Bruce, giving a thumbs up as well to confirm that Danny was just fine. “I’ll bring him back when we’re done.” 

“Just make sure you don’t run him too hard. He’s recovering from injury.” Bruce responded in caution, not wanting Danny to wear himself out to the point of reversing some of his recovery progress.

“Gotcha,” Hal nodded, turning back to Danny and gesturing for him to follow. “Ready?”

Danny nodded again, and had to blink and rub his eyes when he realized they had started to water. He wasn’t upset, just pleasantly overwhelmed. Which caused him to giggle silently when the salt water bubbles wiggled sporadically in the void after getting brushed away from his face. He had to poke one just for fun before eagerly darting after Hal.

“Awh, he’s crying,” Stephanie giggled, having noticed Danny’s predicament before he was out of sight.

“He’s very happy,” Cass beamed proudly.

“That he is. Mission success,” Stephanie agreed, raising a hand to high five Cass and celebrate their accomplishment.

________________

I was too impatient to wait for my beta reader's internet to want to work |'D So there might be more typos or wonky stuff than usual.

I'm so happy that people immediately realized this was going to be a Danny in space chapter X'D

Random facts/music share. I struggled so hard writing this at first because I can't write without music and all the music I had was not the right mood. So I ended up spamming Battle Scars by Paradise Fears while writing the first pass of this. It was the only song I had that had the right vibes X'D Alternatively when drawing the pic I spammed The City Holds My Heart by Ghostly Kisses

Also I was caught off guard with how many people loved Danny's space pants in the last pic X'DDD I wish I knew of some real ones or a way to submit custom ones for people to get, but I have no idea about that.

___________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[toournextadventure]

when you love it

Summary: When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it - Caitlyn Siehl

Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, suggestive themes, blood mention, hurt no comfort (hopeful ending), extreme guilt Pairing: Wenclair x Vampire!Reader (part 2)

“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty on the charge of murder in the first degree.”

Your fangs caught on your lip as you did your best not to smile. With the slightest turn of your body, you patted your client on the shoulder and congratulated him for getting off on murder. He was guilty as sin. You could practically smell the tainted blood coursing through his veins. It was abysmal; he was a horror to work with. Doubtless he would be murdered before he even left the courthouse.

His money was still just as good as anyone else’s.

The judge continued his usual spiel, the one you personally had heard many times over. Something about understanding the severity of the charges, how one must persevere to become more, to prevent such a situation from occurring again. She was getting much more emotional about the speech, putting more of a motherly spin on it. It was a lovely touch.

It wouldn’t work. But it was lovely.

“Don’t get yourself in too much trouble,” you said once the judge was finished and you could shake your client’s hand.

His smile was sinister. “I’ll be calling on you again.”

You made sure to show your fangs in your own smile. “I’ll be expecting it.”

The man gave you the creeps, more so than most of the clients you represented. Which was precisely why you allowed your shadow to escort him out of the courthouse to the freedom he had unjustly earned. You watched as he left with a smile that betrayed your actual thoughts.

If he called again, your rates would double.

“You did your job masterfully.”

You turned around, watching people continue to mill out of the courtroom. No one was facing you, not even the usual suspects. Even your best friend Detective Faus had already left. There was no one left to talk or discuss the events of the case. A pity.

Maybe it had been another hallucination; they were more frequent this time of year. Sounds of blood spilling, pouring down your throat like the first drink at the bar. The door opening, muffled words, wood splintering. The sounds made themselves known in your mind, drowning out everything else around you.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

No. No, that was no hallucination. You looked down to see a young man no older than 20 - though his spectacular mustache looked a bit old for him - standing beside you. It was no wonder you hadn’t noticed him, he was rather short. With a stunning crop of slicked back raven black hair, he reminded you of someone. Someone you did your best to forget.

“Thank you, mister…,” your voice trailed off.

“Pubert Addams,” he said with a charming smile as he held out his hand toward you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

A wet gasp-

-a snarl-

-relief-

-pain-

“-A pleasure, Mr. Addams,” you said, grasping his hand as gently as you possibly could. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long while.”

“I believe you knew my sister and her wife in college, did you not?” He asked as he let go of your hand.

A breathy moan-

-airy laughter-

-a warm sigh-

“-Quite a long time ago,” you said, “but yes.”

“Yes, I knew it was you,” he said with a smile that was far too familiar. Eerily so. “Are you free for a short while?” He asked. “I have a proposition for you.”

You sighed and shifted the weight to your good leg. It left an ache that rarely eased, though certainly not for lack of trying. Thanks to the glasses, you were confident your distrust was hidden. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the young Addams boy; he seemed decent enough. You had worked with enough sleazy people to know who to trust and who to be wary of.

There was just the little problem of not wanting anything to do with an Addams.

Though, you supposed you could give the boy the benefit of the doubt. After all, what would it hurt? If he was anything like Wednesday - and it was beyond clear he was - he would love the danger. The thrill of propositioning you would far outweigh the danger of having you near. A brave boy.

Just like his older sister.

“I suppose I have time,” you finally said with a toothy grin. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” he said quickly as he fell into step beside you. Exactly like his sister.

“A coffee then,” you amended.

He had no objections.

His hands were shoved into his pockets as he walked out of the courtroom with you. The stench of rancid blood filled your senses before you saw the commotion outside. Your client’s body lay sprawled along the steps, his blood flowing from the tips of his fingers; no one dared try to stop the bleeding. At the bottom, the police were shoving the victim’s brother into their cruiser.

“An eye for an eye turns the whole world blind,” Mr. Addams said with a shake of his head.

You didn’t dare hide your smile. “A beautiful sentiment.” You continued to walk past the scene, not looking back to see if Mr. Addams was following.

His footsteps quickened their pace to match yours before he stood beside you once again. It was a short, silent walk to the little cafe you had started to call your own. The barista was a wonderful young girl; she had easily fallen victim to the vampire charm you did your best not to throw around. Though you were a little less careful nowadays, but that was your little secret.

“What can I get for you, sugar?” The young waitress asked once you sat down. She, too, had fallen victim to your supernatural charm.

“A quad?” You asked once Mr. Addams sat across from you at the little table in the corner.

“Heavens no,” he said with his own charming smile, “I’ll take a mocha, thank you.”

“An espresso, darling,” you said with a smile at the waitress.

Her cheeks flushed. “I’ll have it for you in a moment.”

You tried not to mention your surprise at the young Addams going against what his older sister had made seem like tradition. Or perhaps she had changed over the years; it was a possibility she had come to enjoy the sweeter things in life. After all, Enid certainly did, so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She always had been a lovestruck fool for Enid.

So were you.

You promptly ignored the thought.

“What is your proposition, Mr. Addams?” You asked as you continued to wait for your drinks.

“Ah, of course,” he said. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “I would like to invite you to a soiree we happen to be hosting.”

“I’m nothing but a stranger to you,” you said simply. “What about me warrants an invitation?”

“My sister and her wife still talk of you,” he said. “Incessantly.” His smile was gentle; genuine. “I believe inviting you would make them happy.”

You didn’t grace that thought with a reply. If they still talked of you, that was their issue. Wednesday was certainly psychotic enough to desire your presence. Enid, also, could certainly be delusional enough. Seeing you again should bring them no sense of joy or peace; if anything, it should cause nightmares.

It didn’t matter that you often found yourself thinking of them in return. When you talked with clients who had a penchant for breaking the law, much like Wednesday. Committing their crimes guiltlessly for one reason or another. There was a difference in that Wednesday always had a good reason - even when you tried to make her believe she didn’t - but that could be easily overlooked when her cold brown eyes appeared in your mind.

And Enid was often seen in the young intern at your firm. Possessing a giddiness that was so often lost in people. Her colourful nails that you had been unable to forbid were like a flash of the past. The only difference was those nails were typing away at a computer instead of leaving scratches along your back. It was difficult, on occasion, to differentiate the two.

The waitress set the drinks on the table, giving you a wink and smile in the process. You smiled back, showcasing your fangs as she turned and walked back to the counter. If Mr. Addams hadn’t accompanied you, you would have flirted with the woman. Flashed a bit of cash, invited her home for a quick drink of your own before sending her back on her way.

You stirred your espresso for no good reason. At least it gave you time to think of your answer. Mr. Addams was gracious enough not to push. A wonderful change of pace from Wednesday, who would push until she regretted it. Which she had. Oh, she had, and you had all suffered for it.

There was no way you could tell Mr. Addams why you wanted to decline his invitation. If you even so much as hinted at the carnage you had caused, there was a high probability he would not only rescind his offer, but paint you as the monster you had already claimed for yourself. With good reason, of course, you hadn’t earned the title by sitting around.

On the other hand, just the mere thought of seeing Enid and Wednesday made your dead heart feel alive again. You had done your best to fill your nights with women. One after the other, never keeping them long enough to even learn their names. Each a new attempt to forget the two women who had taken your heart all those years ago. They never filled the hole; if anything, they made it bigger.

Perhaps…

“When is this little soiree of yours taking place?” You asked with a sigh, finally looking up from your espresso.

Now that smile was identical to his sister’s.

“I’ll fetch you the invitation.”

—---

You stood on the balcony of your apartment. Smoke curled around your fingers as the cigarette rested between them. The heat from the lit end was almost unbearable on your skin; it was a welcome feeling. City lights twinkled around you, creating constellations yet unnamed by the human race. Perhaps one day they would be prominent enough to fit in with the constellations of old.

It was the night before the soiree at the Addams residence. You had done your best to remain in control of your emotions the days leading up to it. Hell, you had even gone so far as to hire a few women just a few hours earlier to keep your thirst in check. You would rather receive a stake to the heart than risk another incident like the one that had created this situation in the first place.

And yet, even with all your preparations, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had carved a home into the center of your chest.

The balcony door slid open.

“You coming back, baby?” The woman asked.

It was a shame you didn’t remember her name.

“Come on, baby,” she said, and you felt warm arms wrap around your waist. “I know you want another drink.”

You did. God you did. Just the thought of another drink left your throat searing. You tried to swallow, but all it did was burn like liquid fire trickling down your throat. With a sigh, you lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. If you were going to be in pain, you may as well finish off your cigarette.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” you said with an exhale that left smoke falling from your lips.

The warmth left your waist as she went back inside, and you heard her talking to… the… other woman. God, you really needed to learn the names of the people you drank from. If anything, it was the least you could do; it was polite. But you didn’t particularly care. All you knew was they weren’t Enid, and they weren’t Wednesday.

You were pathetic.

You took one more drag of your cigarette, feeling the heat burn the skin on your knuckles. The thick smoke left the taste of ash on your tongue and did nothing to ease the scorching pain in your throat. You dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it with your heel. You hissed when it singed your heel; you had forgotten you were barefoot.

If you had possessed any sort of soul, you would have felt guilt. There was something tugging on your invisible heart strings, begging you to care about the women you were surrounding yourself with. No, that wasn’t accurate. It wasn’t something tugging at your heart strings; it was two voices that had haunted you for years.

They single handedly ruined your night. With no shame and no clue that they had even done so, they had ruined it. The women around you weren’t the right women. Their skin was soft, but it wasn’t the same. Their freckles were in the wrong spots, and their nails and hair were the wrong colour. Each and every moan was the wrong tone, and these women just weren’t right.

It was a struggle, but by the time the night was over, you had more than gotten your fill. There was no possible way you would still be thirsty by the time you made it to the Addams residence. Though that didn’t stop you from grabbing a blood bag from the fridge and tucking it into your pocket before you left your apartment.

You stopped by the mirror in your hall to make sure you looked alright. It was custom made to not contain any silver, allowing you to see at least a semblance of your reflection. It wasn’t perfect, but it was like looking at someone through water. A little blurry, slightly distorted, but you could tell it was a person.

Your eyes were drawn to the dark scars that weren’t entirely hidden by your shirt collar. The majority of the scars were hidden, but not those. They were a stark contrast on your neck; a stark reminder of your monstrosity. Subconsciously, you lifted your hand to run your fingers over the taut flesh. They still ached.

Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.

You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.

You still wanted more.

You recoiled as if burned. Out of all the times you could have that memory, this wasn’t the optimal day. It didn’t require any consideration before you walked back to the fridge and grabbed a second bag, placing it right beside the first within your jacket. You had one shot; you weren't going to blow it.

It was a beautiful day outside as you approached the Addams mansion. The sky was overcast, almost allowing you to take your glasses off. Not that you would have, but it would have been a nice option to have. Large groups of people made their way up the steps and into the mansion. It truly was a stunning building; you had missed it.

You fell into the back of a group, ensuring you were silent and could walk in unnoticed. Yes, of course someone would notice eventually, but you wanted a chance to settle back into the excessively large house. The smell of the slightly-rotting wood was enough to ease your racing pulse. It smelled like home.

While everyone continued to slowly make their way into the ballroom, you went the opposite direction. Your hand trailed against the walls, maneuvering around each and every item that was hanging. The paintings and knick knacks and more recent looking photos. Some were new, or at least newer than you. They certainly hadn’t been hanging on the wall the last time you had visited.

The idle chatter of the crowd started to fade the further you went.The hallway turned into a slightly larger room filled with framed photos and awards. You let your fingers hover over the nameplates on the awards. Spelling Bee, First Place. A smile tugged at your lips as you moved on. Silver, Figure Skating. Down and down the line, you looked at award after award. There were names underneath, but you didn’t waste your time looking at them.

After the awards were the photos. You picked up the first one with gentle hands; a wedding photo deserved care. It was no surprise to see Wednesday in black and Enid in something so bright it was almost blinding. The image alone had your chest aching. They looked rather happy.

Their happiness didn’t distract you from the scars down the side of Enid’s face. The ones that traveled from the corner of her eyes to her jaw. Based on the colour in the photo, they were freshly healed. You couldn’t see Wednesday’s; she had a black lace wrapped around her wrist. From the look of Enid’s, you could imagine.

You set the frame back down on the table and stepped back. The curiosity had disappeared, quickly replaced with something heavy. With a tight chest, you backed out of the room and made your way to the ballroom with everyone else. The slight limp in your step worsened. A sigh fell from your lips as you had to lean against the wall and reach down to tighten the brace. Your jaw clenched almost painfully as the brace became insufferably tight around your leg, but at least it gave you the ability to stand on your own once again.

Until you were nearly knocked over by children running down the hall.

“Excuse me!” One of them called back. A chorus of the same words were quick to follow as the other children ran after the first.

“Behave!” You froze. “And don’t push people!”

“Yes ma’am!” The children shouted.

If you had known you would have such a visceral reaction just to her voice, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation. You had no idea your body itself would react to her voice. If you could sweat, you would have been. Your fingers twitched. Don’t turn, your mind told you. Begged, even. Desperate, feral, pathetic.

“Cara mia.” You forced yourself to take a step. “You forgot your shawl upstairs.”

Don’t turn around, your mind said. It was frantic. You forced another step. And another. Each one heavier than the last, as if your body was fighting with your mind. You truly were a fool to accept the invitation, and there wasn’t even a word to describe yourself for actually daring to appear. Stupid. That was the best word.

“Are you a vampire?”

You sighed and took a moment to calm your emotions before looking down. One of the children that had been running around was now standing beside you, looking up at you with bright eyes and a cocked head. It reminded you of- no, you wouldn’t think of that. You turned to face the child and shifted your weight to rest on your good leg.

“I am,” you said with a singular nod of your head. “And you are?”

“Oh,” they said with a smile. A large, wolfish smile. “I’m an Addams.”

You were thankful they couldn’t see your eyes. “Charmed.”

Of course they were an Addams. How could you ever think differently? The Addamses were magnets for trouble, and you didn’t have to know the child to deduct that they were, in fact, trouble. You turned away from them and looked back out into the ballroom.

“My mothers have a picture of you on their nightstand,” the child continued.

You wished they would leave.

“But you have scars, and the person in their picture doesn’t.”

You would have no shame in killing a child.

“My momma has scars too.” It would be simple. “They almost match yours.”

“Don’t harass the guests, dear.” 

Or perhaps you would simply kill yourself. It would certainly be less painful than whatever was about to happen. You could hear the echo of your dead heart beating loudly in your ears. Perhaps if you refused to turn around, she would continue walking. Walk right past you and into the crowd, leaving you behind as you so very much deserved.

But she didn’t continue walking as you desperately wished she would. She didn’t move out into the crowd, saying her greetings to the others as was customary. You could barely hear her footsteps at all above the incessant noise that you were wishing would get louder. Drown out all the thoughts and emotions bubbling up inside you.

“We weren’t sure you would come.”

You still refused to turn around. Even when you felt her sidle up next to you, her arm brushing lightly against yours. Oh, her warmth was glorious. You had forgotten just how lovely it was to feel her warming you up. To bring life to your soul in a way that only she was capable of. No amount of women in your bed had ever held a candle to her warmth.

“You look good.” Her voice was impossibly soft against the rising chaos of the soiree.

Growls and screaming echoed in your mind’s ear as you finally made the brave - or stupid - decision to turn your head. If you had thought your anxiety was bad before, you would have been impressed with your anxiety at that moment. The first thing your eyes took notice of were the healed, lightly coloured scars on her jaw.

The scars you had caused.

“You look healthy,” Enid said with a soft smile.

She looked so very grown. That childish glint in her eyes was still present, but she held herself with far more respect. The insecurity had long faded away, much like the scars that continued down her neck. The child was right; you almost matched.

“I fed before arriving,” you said. Your words felt like ash in your mouth. “No need for history to repeat itself.”

“We have more in the kitchen,” she said quickly. “If you need it.”

You opened your coat to show the two bags in the pocket. “I came prepared, thank you.”

She smiled a closed mouth smile and nodded before looking back out at the ballroom. That heavy feeling settled in your chest once again. After so many years, that was all you had to say to her? That you had fed already? Of course, that was probably the one thing she wanted to hear after so long. You were a fool. A damned fool.

“I hope the kids weren’t bothering you,” Enid said. “They get excited when we host gatherings.”

“They seem decent,” you said. Decent?? That’s the best you can come up with? “That one-” you pointed to the one with the bright eyes “-is rather talkative.”

Enid giggled, and for a moment, you felt young again. “Willa says she gets it from me.”

Willa. You could have laughed if it didn’t hurt so bad. Wednesday had always attempted to claim she hated it. Yet it never stopped the lightest blush on her cheeks when you or Enid would use the unassuming nickname. When was the last time you had even heard it?

Come on, Willa, put it down, I’m being serious.

You turned your body ever so slightly. You didn’t want Enid to see the scars creeping down your neck. Her hand brushed against yours. It was shameful how quickly you pulled your hand back, shoving it into your pocket. No good could come from her feeling the shake of your hand, or the scars that hid below the cloth of your clothes.

“Oh, there she is,” Enid said, this time reaching out to grab your arm a little harder than she probably meant to. “Stay right here, I’ll bring her over!”

The moment she left your side, the cold started to crawl back over your skin. It sunk into every vessel, every inch of your body, both inside and out. Attending the soiree was a mistake. A mistake that you couldn’t take back. Just like that night. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. You could leave before they came back and continue your miserable existence as you had been.

But then you saw them together, hand in hand. It was an unexpected thing to see Wednesday practically smiling at Enid. In public, that was. You couldn’t recall a single time she had smiled at anything in public. Yet there she was, walking closer and showing some semblance of physical affection in public. It was stunning. Your heart was almost beating.

Until your eyes landed on all the black lace that you knew covered scars no one could comprehend.

“I told you I saw them,” you heard Enid say as they both approached where you were frozen in place. “And I was right.”

Wednesday looked up at you with those stunning brown eyes. “So you were.”

Your fingers twitched in your pocket. Now that she was so close, you could smell her blood flowing through her veins. No matter how much you swallowed, you couldn’t ease the burn that was rising up your throat. You clenched your jaw tight, ignoring the sting of your fang piercing your lip.

Wednesday!

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? “Hello Wednesday, I’m sorry for nearly draining you while you attempted to prove I wasn’t a monster.” Or even to Enid. “I apologise for trying to kill you when you stopped me from killing our girlfriend.” There was nothing you could say, to either of them, to justify what you had done. What you couldn’t forget.

“I told them you had their picture,” the previous child said as they approached along with the rest of the herd.

For the first time, you were thankful for children.

“So you told our secrets?” Wednesday asked. “You know what happens to those who tell our secrets.”

The old Wednesday would have sounded more intimidating and borderline threatening. Yet, even as her words said one thing, the soft look on her face said another. The children all smiled and tried to hide their laughter as they continued to look up at her.

“You’d better run,” Enid whispered.

Each of the children shared a look before running off, laughter following in their wake. It was almost… cute? Adorable, even? God, you needed to escape this place, you were almost turning soft. You needed to get back to your murderers and criminals, this was turning pathetic.

“As intimidating as ever, my love,” Enid said as she leaned down and placed a soft chaste kiss on Wednesday’s cheek.

It made you sick. The burn in your throat spread, turning into a searing pain in your chest and stomach. All that was left was the tingling in your fingers and legs and you were finished. You wished the inferno would swallow you whole, reducing you to nothing more than ash and bone.

“You seem pale,” Wednesday said.

It seemed you wouldn’t combust soon enough.

“I only arrived out of courtesy,” you said as you stood taller. “Now that I have said my hellos, I must say my goodbyes.”

You tried to act like the looks on Enid’s and Wednesday’s faces didn’t kill you inside. It was like a silver stake to the heart, spreading its carnage down every muscle fiber and blood vessel. After all these years, you had managed to hurt them again within only a few moments. And you didn’t even possess the decency to apologise for the first sleight against them.

“Do you have to?” Enid asked. “You could stay.” Her eyes fell. “We could talk.”

“Did Enid tell you we have more blood in the fridge?” Wednesday asked.

She circled her fingers around her lace-covered wrist.

“I don’t do house calls,” you said. You could hear Wednesday’s pulse over the crowd. “Especially with those I cannot pay penance to.”

And yet, you didn’t make a single move. Against your better wishes, your feet stayed glued to the floor. Each beat of Wednesday’s heart was enough to have your mouth salivating, yet you couldn’t leave. A memory popped into your head of Enid almost seeming disappointed that her blood wasn’t appetising to you. It was a fond memory, one you replayed often enough for it to seem like a core memory of your relationship.

“You could stay,” Enid said.

“We can go somewhere quieter,” Wednesday continued.

You didn’t want to go somewhere quiet, you wanted to go home. You internally scoffed at the word; you didn’t live in a home. It was just a building, with four walls and a new blood bag or two every night. You barely lived in it, instead opting to spend all your time in your office where nothing could remind you of the two women standing in front of you.

They were your home.

“Please?” Enid asked softly. Almost too softly. Even with your enhanced hearing you could barely discern the words over the jazz band that had started playing.

You sighed. Would it truly hurt to spend a few moments with them? To give you some semblance of normalcy that only they could provide? After all, you could see the muscles underneath Enid’s skin. If you truly lost control, surely she could stop you. She had stopped you before.

The scars reminded you of it every day.

“Very well,” you said with a slight nod.

Enid was the one to reach out and grab your hand, pulling it out of its pocket and linking her fingers with yours. Her nails dug into the back of your hand, drawing out a sting that was a welcome distraction. The ache in your throat was ever present as Wednesday walked right beside you while Enid led you out of the ballroom.

The hustle and bustle of the ballroom slowly faded into oblivion as you were led down the corridors of the Addams mansion. You could recall memories from each room you passed. Each with their own story to tell. Stories of stolen kisses, scandalous rendezvous, silent moments with the women you loved, but together and separate.

When Enid stopped in the kitchen, you would have laughed had it been under any other circumstance. It was clear they had the same thoughts on their minds when Enid sat you down and Wednesday retrieved a blood bag from the fridge. She placed it between you and her when she sat opposite you at the table.

How comical.

They both stared at you with unwavering gazes. What was going through their minds, you wondered. Were they feeling the same way you had? Broken, anxious about fucking up, convinced you had blown your chance? Or perhaps they were waiting for you to break and recreate what had happened on that fated night all those years ago.

You sighed when you deduced they wouldn’t speak first.

“You both look well,” you said in a croaky voice that, if they were wise, was indicative of the state of your instincts. Think of something else to say. “Are all those children yours?”

Think of something less ridiculous.

“Yes they are,” Wednesday said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was almost condescending; you loved it.

“Pubert said you’re a lawyer?” Enid asked.

“Defence attorney,” you said with a nod, “yes.”

“Is it, ah, fun?” She asked.

You sighed. If the entire night was going to go along those lines - awkward and uncomfortable, tip toeing around every word - you would rather leave. Not a single positive thing could come from such a conversation. It was talking for talking sake. You all hated small talk, that was something that you knew had never changed, yet there you were, struggling to find any sort of conversation.

“It’s acceptable,” you said before placing both palms on the table. “I believe I really should be getting on.”

You attempted to push yourself up from the seat. Attempted being the key word. It wasn’t often your bad knee would buckle when standing; usually reserved for long nights in your office where you had barely managed to take bathroom breaks. Yet when you pushed yourself up, you felt the strain in your knee. It was a familiar feeling, that weakness before a painful tightness that so often forced you back into your seat.

And it did. Your grip on the table meant nothing as your knee shook for a nanosecond before giving out underneath you. Thankfully the gasp never actually left your lips. You could taste the copper in your mouth as you bit your tongue in an effort to stay silent. In the end, your entire leg trembled.

Enid and Wednesday stood up quickly, knocking their chairs back and watching your every move. You wished they would come to you; you were glad they didn’t. The looks on their faces was terrifying enough. Identical looks to the ones they had had that night.

“Wednesday, put it down,” you said when she refused to remove the knife from her hand.

“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

She had barely broken the skin before the scent hit you. It had been months since you had fed, and she had broken the floodgates. Everything about her disappeared except for the small drop of blood pooling at the bottom of her hand.

You didn’t feel yourself practically jumping toward her. You didn’t hear her gasp when you ripped the knife from her hand. You didn’t see the look on her face as you licked up the blood on her palm, or when you moved up her hand to bite the pulse point on her wrist.

But you tasted the nectar that flowed through her veins. You felt the strong pulse beneath your lips. You felt the scorching hot blood falling down your chin before you simply couldn’t keep up with the flow. Something vaguely pushed against your neck, but it was little more than a nuisance. All you knew was the blood in your mouth and the warmth on your lips.

Vaguely, you heard something. A scream, a growl, something breaking, you couldn’t tell the difference. It was nothing compared to the relief you were getting. How could you care about something in the outside world when you had such a delicious-

-something solid slammed into your body. The skin underneath your lips vanished, replaced by the cold air around you. When your body stopped rolling, you could feel the aches already starting to form. It didn’t matter. You zeroed in on Wednesday’s wrist again.

You were met with what felt like a truck slamming into your leg. Bones cracked, stretching the tendons and muscles with the new direction they were facing. It wouldn’t hold any weight when you tried to stand up. No matter; that was why you had two legs.

Something large and furry stepped in between you and Wednesday. Nothing about it was familiar in that moment. Instinct told you it was nothing but an obstacle in the way of your feed. It charged, and you swiped. Your fingers clipped something even as you felt its claws rake across your skin.

You tried to stand. Something sharp crossed your chest; the air was cold on your skin. When you stood up again, it was met with similar results. The third attempt got you closer to Wednesday. When something sharp clasped around your shoulder and threw you back to the ground, you stilled.

That hot blood you had gorged yourself on started to feel hot on your neck. Not in it, on it. You opened your mouth to speak and felt the liquid spew from your lips, falling down your face in all directions. Your hand lifted to the side of your neck. Your fingers pushed past the skin and then-exposed muscle.

As you pushed harder on the wounds, doing your best to staunch the flow of blood, the world started to come back to you. Blackness peeled back from your vision. The blurry world started to come into focus along with the sounds that you could finally discern as gasps and growls.

So did the pain.

You were drowning in the blood you had stolen. Your head lolled to the side even as you coughed again, spewing blood into the air like some demented fountain. A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded in places.

Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.

You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.

You released the pressure from your neck and felt the blood continue to fall.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

“I know,” Wednesday answered just as softly. It was humiliating.

It was lovely.

“Please stay,” Enid said. You looked down to see her reach her hand across the table.

You shouldn’t. You had nearly killed them, had gone into a frenzy that you hadn’t experienced ever again. What if it happened again with them? After all those years, you still loved them. You would never admit to anyone, but you kept their photos on your desk at work. You couldn’t risk hurting them again. Couldn’t risk killing them. You were a monster, and that fact alone was never going to change.

They looked at you expectantly.

For when is a monster not a monster?

You reached forward and placed your hand on top of Enid’s.

Oh, when you love it.

[augustinewrites]

based on this

your frowning face appears in the mirror as wriothesley fixes his hair for the third time that afternoon, admiring how the gel he’d borrowed from clorinde was surprisingly adept at slicking back his unruly hair. 

“we can’t be late,” you remind him, fiddling with the collar of your dress. “father despises tardiness…”

“awe, are you worried i’ll make a bad first impression?” he asks, finally turning to face you. “don’t worry, sweetheart. parents love me. well, maybe not my foster parents. but i’m always a hit with other people’s.”

the comment about his…colourful past  goes right over your head. you really are worried. “it’s not you i’m worried about. father can be…intense.”

“i work in a prison. it can’t get more intense than that,” he reminds you, grabbing the gift bag sitting by the door. “besides, once we pull out this bad boy, he’ll be so impressed that he’ll ask me to join you for lunch next week too.” 

of course, he had no actual idea if the wine navia had chosen was any good. though his wallet had come back significantly lighter, so that had to mean it was halfway decent. 

“wriothesley,” you say, still looking deeply concerned. “you do know that father is–”

“intense, babe. i know,” he sighs, cupping your face in his hands and placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. you try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, gently keeping your focus on him. “don’t worry, alright? i’ll shake his hand, we’ll talk about safe topics like the weather and how great the aquabus is. i’ll even use my best table manners when the food comes.” 

his thumbs gently brush your cheeks as you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “i just really want you two to get along.” 

“i can be plenty charming when i need to be,” he says, only letting you go to pull the front door open. “besides, who wouldn’t want a duke as a son-in-law?”

______

business at café lutece is unusually empty today, wriothesley observes. all of the tables are reserved, but remain empty at the height of the lunch rush. 

you don’t seem to notice this, fingertips drumming the surface of the table 

“quit fidgeting,” wriothesley murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“i’m just nervous,” you mutter, knee beginning to bounce. wriothesley chuckles, stilling it with a firm hand. 

you look up at him, smiling as you place your hand over his. “thanks.”

the waiter comes back with the tea he’d ordered earlier, leaving a teapot and two small jars of sugar and milk. he’s in the middle of pouring you a cup when you suddenly sit up.

“father!”

“oh shit,” the duke mutters, quickly getting on his feet. he glances down at his outfit briefly, making sure his buttons are done up properly and his sleeves are rolled neatly before holding out his hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you–”

wriothesley’s open stance shifts into a protective one, immediately putting himself between you and the knave. 

“well, isn’t this sweet,” the harbinger says, clearly more amused than threatened. 

wriothesley looks back at you, incredulous. “your father is a fatui harbinger?!”

“all children of the house of the hearth refer to me as such,” she answers, gracefully pulling out and taking a seat across from him. “sit, your grace, and prove to me why you should continue to be allowed to court my child.”

_____

sitting face to face with the knave was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. exhilarating because she was the knave. skilled in combat and espionage and one of the highest ranking harbingers.

nerve-inducing because she was your father. and as much as he wanted to engage her in a battle of wits and fisticuffs, that was not something one did with their father-in-law. 

“i trust business at the fortress is going smoothly, your grace?”

wriothesley casts the harbinger a wary look over his teacup. “you can read about childe’s status in the report i had sent over last week.”

“well, you know better than most that information from inside sources is much more valuable.”

both their gazes drift to you, and you send him an apologetic look.

“oh, relax,” the woman across from him laughs. “i was simply making conversation. since i’m short of time, however, i will make the point of our visit quite brief.”

she leans forward, clasping your hand in hers across the tabletop as she fixes wriothesley with a paragliding glare.

“if you ever hurt my child, or she comes to any harm whilst in your care, there is not a corner of the ocean dark enough for you to hide.”

“father!” you gasp. “you said you wouldn't threaten him.”

it’s almost eerie, how easily the dark expression slips off her visage. “that wasn’t a threat. c'était une promesse.” 

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

I Might Change Your Life, I Might Save My World

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre/early)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Mentions of canonical character death; Some verbal aggression

A/N: I had them on the run alone. I hope that’s okay!

*gif is not mine

The run had so far been uneventful. You’d even dare say boring. That was a word that wasn’t used carelessly. Life in the apocalypse was rarely boring and usually consisted of running for your life while scrounging up anything possible to ensure you could just survive. At least you were out with Daryl. He was your best friend and could usually keep you at least mildly entertained whether or not it was intentional. 

You were a survivor of the Governor’s insanity at Woodbury. It had seemed safe enough, but he had fooled everyone. Or maybe he had at one point been a kind, reasonable man that was just pushed too far by the cruelty of the end of the world. Regardless, it was there that you had met Merle, the right hand man. You had always teased him about that. Right hand? Get it? To most people, it would have seemed cruel, but not to Merle Dixon. He would ruffle your hair with a gentle shove and tell you to get lost. 

You never did.

When Merle left, you had followed and he had allowed it. He even held your arm and dragged you out behind him. That’s when you actually met Daryl. You had seen him in the fight pit, eyes wide as the Governor revealed he was Merle’s younger brother. He had never mentioned having a brother. Maybe he had thought him dead. Most would say Daryl was everything Merle was not, but they just didn’t know the elder Dixon like you did. Merle was crass, sometimes downright unkind, but below that rough exterior, he had a big heart. He was learning, little by little. You would have liked to take some credit for that.

Daryl had left his group that day, following Merle, just as you did. You remained quiet, watching the younger Dixon watching you. He looked almost wary, but there was a naked curiosity there too. When the two butted heads, you trailed behind while Daryl led the way back to the prison. Where he belonged, he had said. 

You had fit in easily. Merle, not so much. It made your heart ache for him when you could see the poorly hidden love he had for his little brother. He was absolute shit at showing it, sometimes selfish, but it was there. When he proved it by trying to be better, trying to show Daryl that he could do the right thing, it had cost him his life. You blamed Daryl for the longest time. You knew it wasn’t his fault, deep down, but you needed someone to catch the fury of your grief. The archer had taken it willingly.

When the prison fell, you had tried and failed to save Beth. Grieving yet again, right on the heels of losing Merle and then Hershel and then your home, you found a way out with Daryl, leaving the two of you stuck together on the road, alone and with a dense cloud of animosity billowing between you. It wasn’t until one night in a rundown home that Daryl had said reminded him of where he grew up, moonshine was flowing and then so were the emotions. You had both yelled, thrown things, killed the walkers that the fight attracted while continuing the verbal onslaught. In the end, drained and resigned, the two of you had talked. 

And the rest was history.

Alexandria had been a saving grace. It had taken a while to adjust. For Daryl, he had never lived in a community like that. He slept on the porch most nights, fleeing the confined spaces that left his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat. You felt as if it were Woodbury all over again, destined to crash and burn and leave the group nothing but ashes. So, you slept on the porch with him, if for no other reason than to keep a fellow outsider close. You both knew it was more than that. 

Months had gone by. You had both finally moved inside a house and were even closer now than you had once been to Merle, which was surprising. Rick was confident in sending the two of you out together. You got shit done. That day in particular, things just weren’t moving in your favor.

For one, it was cold. The seasons were changing and you hadn’t adequately prepared for the chill in the air, especially when on the bike. The two of you were scouting for places that could possibly still have necessary supplies. Daryl had—as always—been quick to notice your discomfort. Though he had usually sewn the sleeves of jackets right onto his sleeveless shirts, that day, he had actually worn a leather jacket. 

“Here.” He shoved the article toward you, prompting a raised brow in response.

“What for?” You queried. It was a stupid question, but useless banter always kept things light between the two of you, comfortable even if Daryl would always claim the opposite. The space that lingered was never oppressive, not anymore.

“You’re cold, idiot.”

“Daryl Dixon is being sweet to me. This is one for the record books!” You chuckled while slipping on the jacket. The hunter scowled and bumped you with his elbow.

“Stop.”

“Didn’t hear you disagree.” You would have continued to tease if he hadn’t held up a fist just in front of you, the signal to be still and silent. The telltale groans, snarls, and shuffling feet were growing closer, blocking the two of you from the bike. “Aw, crap.”

“Yup.” He agreed, leaning around the corner of the building just enough to see the sizable herd. “Need a plan.” He mumbled, unclipping the sheath of his knife for a quick draw when needed.

“Got one.” 

“What?” When Daryl turned, you were already rounding the opposite corner of the building with a quiet shout of get the bike. “That fuckin’ woman’s gonna be the death’a me.”

There were a great deal more undead than you had anticipated. “Well, hell.” You grumbled. It was too late to turn around, several of the milky yellow eyes already landing on you. As you walked backward, keeping a safe distance but close enough to hold their attention, you could see Daryl peeking out from the corner. You exchanged nods before you began to wave your arms. “Hey! Over here! Keep your eyes on me!!” The noise ensured that Daryl’s already near silent footfalls would go unnoticed. He would get the bike, circle the herd, and you’d jump on. Piece of cake. 

Until you bumped right into a walker that led the other half of aforementioned herd. 

“Oh, fuck!” Quickly grabbing its throat to hold it back, you pivoted, walking backward toward the open area at the edges of the corpses. Daryl was shouting your name, the bike roaring to life. You just happened to choose the wrong time to glance in his direction in an attempt to gauge the distance between you. The next walker had fallen somehow, levering clumsily to its feet just beside the one you were grappling with, your knife having just sank into that one’s skull. There was no time to react. You could only watch the blade slip free as the teeth came together on your arm. It was painful but nothing like you had expected, more pressure than anything. Still, it was too late. You were bit.

“Y/N!!” Daryl shouted, grabbing you away from the dead man, your arm slipping free from its jaws to throw it off balance. That gave you a chance to climb on behind Daryl, the injured arm cradled to your chest while the other wrapped tightly around his abdomen. “Just a minute, just hang on. We’ll take care’a this.” He was rambling anxiously, the cool wind whipping and stinging as the herd grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

“I’m bit. I’m bit. I’m bit.” You chanted against Daryl’s back, only barely holding back your sobs. The bike slowed to a stop, the kickstand lowered roughly before Daryl was scrambling off when you should have been the first to move. 

“Lemme see.” When your teary eyes met his, he growled through the sting at his waterline. “Lemme fuckin’ see!” He wasn’t as gentle as he could have been but he didn’t hurt you. Pulling your arm away from your chest roughly, he grabbed the shoulder of the jacket and yanked it down, ripping one of the seams in the process. You were both greeted with bruising flesh, the slightest indents of where teeth had vehemently pressed, but no broken skin. No blood. No scratches. While you stared in a shocked relief, Daryl wasn’t so graceful. His legs buckled and he went down hard to his knees. “Goddamn it, Y/N!”

“I’m okay.” You blinked, eyes transfixed on your arm. It hurt but it wasn’t a death sentence. You weren’t going to turn. “I’m okay, Daryl.” You smiled through the tears, now falling for an entirely different reason. “Daryl?” He was trembling fiercely, his shoulders moving in a way that suggested he might have been crying. You started to throw your leg over the seat to comfort him when he drew back his arm and planted his fist into the asphalt with a crunch that made your stomach turn.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid!” He roared, barreling upright to stand with his nose nearly touching yours. You were too shocked to react properly. “Ya couldn’a waited for a actual plan, just had to go balls to the wall an’ run out there like a fuckin’ lunatic!” Your eyes followed anxiously as he started to pace.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get us out there in one piece. I didn’t even see the—”

His uninjured hand grabbed your wrist, tight and firm but not without care. He’d never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not physically, at least. “Ya call this one piece? I woulda had to take your arm, ya fuckin’ useless idiot!” That sent you reeling. Daryl had been angry with you before, but for things like keeping the squirrel over the fire for too long or kneeing him in the groin while trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. But that? That was different.

If Merle Dixon had taught you anything, it was to never show how you really felt. When you began to laugh, Daryl dropped your arm and stepped back, eyes wide and full of disbelief. “My god, you’re dramatic. I’m fine, Dixon. Let’s just chalk this up to a shit day and get the fuck out of here.”

“A shit d—are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“Stop it. Get on the bike and let’s go.” You pulled the jacket back onto your arm, your red flannel peering through the tear in the shoulder. Now adjusted once again and ready to go, you looked back to find him still staring at you with the same incredulous expression. You chuckled and shook your head. “Stop being ridiculous. Let’s go.”

“Nah.” He was stepping backwards with his own head twisting back and forth. “Take the bike and go home. M’gonna walk.”

“It’s at least fifteen miles and it’s cold. Now who’s being stupid?” When he turned his back, leaving his crossbow strapped to the motorcycle, you actually began to panic. You could drive the bike, sure. He had taught you a few months back, just in case. Still, leaving him behind with nothing but his knife was not something you would do without a fight. “Daryl! Seriously, please, let’s go.” He ignored you, stalking off into the trees until the wings of his vest disappeared. 

Chasing him wasn’t a good idea. You knew him well enough to know that much. Or did you? It had been a long time since an argument like that, one where both of you had shut down in one way or another. You started the bike, toeing up the kickstand before propelling it forward, your chest constricting tighter and tighter with every mile. 

It had taken him far longer than necessary to make the walk back to Alexandria’s gates. Granted, he’d stopped for several smokes to calm himself down. He’d slide down the nearest tree and sit there—flexing his throbbing fingers—until he had drawn the cigarette down to the filter or he heard the incoming growls of the walkers that had been tailing him. He had to take an extra half hour to put down the ones he could and lose the ones he couldn’t. By the time Sasha pulled open the gates, Daryl was bone weary and more than a little ashamed of how he’d reacted. 

“Seen Y/N?” He asked in lieu of answering when she questioned where he’d been.

“She came back a while ago. Haven’t seen her since. Sorry.” She patted his shoulder and returned to her post. You were back, so that anxiety was at least remedied. 

Still, he needed to talk to you. The way you had laughed in the face of his anger had unnerved him. It reminded him so much of his brother that it hurt. That type of behavior didn’t suit you. Then again, who was he to tell you how to behave? He had spoken to you so harshly instead of just telling you that you scared the shit out of him. He should have hugged you and been thankful that you didn’t lose your arm, didn’t lose your life. But emotions and Daryl weren’t exactly on speaking terms. When he didn’t understand why or how something made him feel a certain way, he lashed out at it. He was conditioned that way, it was in his blood. He had been trying so hard to be better. He actually thought he was getting better. Boy, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He was still a work in progress. He needed you to know that. He needed to apologize, even if it burned coming out of his mouth to admit he was wrong, to admit to feeling anything at all. 

Damn you for wiggling your way into his useless heart. He thought he had crushed and buried the thing years ago. Then you came tagging along on his brother’s heels and challenged everything he thought he knew about himself. He chose not to acknowledge it, even when people like Carol and Rick did. Often. 

Sighing, he stopped on the porch of the home he shared with you and Carol, lighting up a cigarette and leaning over the railing on his forearms. He would have assumed that you’d already spilled everything to Carol but when she didn’t barrel out of the house with a rolling pin aimed at his head, it was easy to figure out that you hadn’t. Maybe you hadn’t even been home yet. He trampled that worry down quickly, not willing to let it compound into another wave of anger he’d have to answer for eventually.

The streets were quiet with the sun now completely gone, replaced by the waning crescent moon. There was enough light for him to see, of course. His eyes were trained from years of hunting and surviving out in nature. He could hear frogs close to the pond, even hear the paper of his cigarette sizzling with each drag. But then he heard something else. Something that shattered him to his very core because he knew immediately what and who and why it was.

He didn’t bother to keep his steps light. It wouldn’t do to surprise you. You’d just be even more upset without time to even try and compose yourself. Even so, it was possible you still didn’t hear him approaching. Your sobs and sniffles continued, probably barely audible to anyone who didn’t know how to listen and not just hear.

You were perched on the bench beneath the gazebo, knees drawn up to your chest with your face hidden behind them. Even in the dark, he could see your shoulders shaking. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching you but once it was clear that you hadn’t noticed him, he cleared his throat. Had it been any other day, any other situation, the way you unfolded and nearly climbed over the back of the bench would have been comical. Maybe it still would be when the two of you looked back on this, but that was only if he could make things right.

“Hey.” He rasped, still rooted to the same spot.

You sniffed, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your flannel. The leather jacket was nowhere to be seen. “Hi.” All the confidence from earlier was gone, leaving your voice but a tiny echo of the woman that had called him dramatic. “I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“Ya alright?” He chanced a step toward you, pausing after one when your eyes darted down to his boots and back up. God, he felt like an asshole. Were you afraid of him now?

“Mhm. I’m okay.” You sniffed again and settled back onto the seat, pulling your knees against you once again. “I hung your jacket on the doorknob of your room. I fixed the sleeve.”

Great. You fixed the thing he tore. Now he felt like a major asshole. “Listen, Y/N, I—”

“It’s okay, Daryl.” You interjected, offering him a small, feigned smile while your eyes betrayed you. “Carol has dinner ready. I put your plate in the oven.” It was just getting better and better. You had still thought of him enough to make sure he had something to eat when he got back. And the award for Asshole of the Year goes to: Daryl Dixon.

You stood so quickly that he nearly flinched. “I should—I have a new job assignment tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”

That threw him. “New—ya ain’t goin’ out anymore?” You shook your head.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry, dabble in the armory too. Give Olivia a break sometimes.” Your tone wasn’t cold but bordered on emotionless. You’d asked Rick to take you off the run list, and you’d done it because of him.

“Y/N, don’t do that.” He watched as you approached, your head down. If you hadn’t seen his boots when he stepped into your path, you surely would have slammed into him. “Shouldn’a talked to ya the way I did.” Even while you looked off to the side, he could see the way your face screwed up like you were about to cry again, but after a moment, you settled.

“No, you were right. I should have waited. Things could have gone a lot differently. I didn’t stop to think about how you would have felt if I had been bitten.” Daryl deflated at the utter dejection in your voice. “Anyway, goodnight, Daryl.” 

Watching you walk away, your arms wrapped around yourself so tightly, he let himself think about it; allowed himself to think about what he would have felt if you had been bitten. It wasn’t anger then. It was loss, despair, guilt. Whether he’d had to have taken your arm or not, the prospect of possibly losing you was more than he could even think to bear. What was more terrifying was that he realized that your loss would devastate him more than his own brother’s had.

“Y/N, wait!”

He couldn’t let you think he had acted that way out of anger alone. Yes, he had been angry but he had been scared. He couldn’t say you were his closest friend. That spot was taken by Carol. You were something else entirely. Something that he would never get the chance to explore or define, fear and awkwardness be damned, if something happened to you.

His feet were carrying him toward you at a brisk pace, your eyes wide at his approach but you didn’t move. You didn’t flinch or cower, even when he grabbed your shoulder and pulled in against his chest, wrapping both arms around you to hold you there.

“M’sorry.” He whispered into your hair. You weren’t hugging him back but that was most likely because your arms were pinned between the two of you. “Ain’t no reason for me to ever talk to ya like that. Ya ain’t stupid. You’re quick on your feet an’ it ain’t fair’a me to fault ya on that just cause m’too scared to lose ya.” He felt your sharp inhale while his face and neck flushed at the admission. “I—Christ, ain’t no good at this talkin’ an’ shit.” When your shoulders shook, he knew he’d made you cry again and took a step back, his hands sliding up to hold your shoulders. While that was true, the movement was from the laughter bubbling up from your chest instead of the tears falling down your cheeks. “The hell ya laughing at?”

“I like you too, Daryl.” Goddamnit, you had a pretty smile. He’d make a fool of himself ten times over if it meant you’d give him that smile just once.

“Ain’t a thing ‘bout likin’ ya.” He swallowed hard and looked away, the pink hue on his cheeks deepening. “Don’t know what it is, but, uh—well, maybe we can try to figure it out together?” He sounded like a lovesick teenager and was two seconds away from rolling his eyes so hard that they would relocate permanently to the back of his skull.

“I’d like that.” 

“Really?” He straightened, expression embarrassingly hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.” 

“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, not feeling like he’d entirely lost the right to call himself a man. “So, uh—Guess we should tell Rick that Olivia can get Spencer to help her. Maybe he’d stop oglin’ ya all the damn time if he’s cooped up in the pantry.” You reached for his hand and he let you take it. “Maybe I could talk her into lockin’ him in there for a while.” The walk back to the house wasn’t a long one and all too quickly, you were climbing the porch steps just in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want other guys checking out your girl?” 

Daryl almost missed the top step. “My girl?” He didn’t mean for it to come out quite so breathlessly. He was mostly definitely losing his man card that night. You were blinking at him, your smile slowly faltering.

“I—I misunderstood, didn’t I? Jesus, Daryl, I’m—”

“Nah.” He quickly derailed that train of thought. “Just liked hearin’ ya say it s’all.” 

“Are you—”

“Yup.” The smile was back and Daryl could breathe again. Somehow, standing there with you on the porch and him on the top step, just staring at one another was more comfortable than he could have ever imagined. 

“So,” you began, twisting your upper half back and forth, “you walked me home. Are you gonna say goodnight and kiss me now?”

Daryl’s face contorted in confusion, a dark brow arching. “I, uh—I live here too.”

“Does that really matter?” You asked, stepping a little closer. 

“Guess it don’t, really.” When you leaned forward, he didn’t stop you. Found that he didn’t want to. Even as new and undefined as whatever this was, this felt right and he’d be damned if he’d let a chance like that pass him by. 

Inside the house, Carol swirled the wine around in her glass, watching the kiss happen with a sigh of relief. “Finally.” Picking up her book, she took a sip and placed the glass down on the table before opening to the dog-eared page. “Now I don’t have to lock them in the pantry together tomorrow.”

[bleedingoptimism]

Eddie works in construction. One day he’s asked by a colleague to do a job for him. His workmate says it’s a kind of 'hush, hush job' just some holes in the front porch of a mansion, he’s just not allowed to talk about it with anyone else. He's really mysterious about it but he mentions they pay a fortune for it so Eddie agrees to do it.

He immediately realizes that all the weirdness and mystery business is because the 'holes' on the wall are fucking bullet holes. But his colleague was right, the pay is ridiculously good, so he keeps his head low and works on leaving the entrance good as new.

Just do his job and walk out, easy enough, right?

Then, a few hours into his work a car pulls up, the driver, a huge man who kind of looks like donkey kong but not in a cute way, in an actually very intimidating way, gets out and goes to the backdoor side, opens it and then drags a young man out, walks him up the stairs by the scruff of the neck.  The man is... gorgeous, he's fucking beautiful, Eddie can't do anything more than stand there, plaster precariously dripping of his spatula as he watches the brunette shake himself free of the driver, fix his hair and jacket and walk up the front steps, the driver giving him one last push when he hesitates to which he huffs and turns to look bitchily at him before continuing his ascend up the stairs.

When he passes by him, the young man looks at Eddie, smiles and gives him a little nod which is more than anyone else has done so far, every other person in the mansion acting like Eddie was part of the decour. Eddie smiles back noticing two things when he does, first, that this guy has the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen and second is, he has a bruise under his right eye, warm and red, like it’s new and just forming. Eddie frowns and is about to ask him if he's okay but the man sighs like he's bearing himself, before opening the door and entering before he has a chance to speak. 

Curious, Eddie leans closer to the now closed door, he hears the young man say, "Hi, dad" and then, horrified he hears the distinct sound of a slap, a hard one. He contemplates opening the door but he saw the weapon poorly concealed on Donkey Kong’s belt when he went in after the young man and judging from the bullet holes he’s spent the whole afternoon filling, he’s probably not the only one with a weapon. He just clenches his teeth and leans in closer trying to make out any other sounds. But no sound of distress, no retort, or scream or insult rings out.

"Go to your room," Eddie hears a stern voice say, and then another sigh, a loud one, like the young man is bored of his father's abuse. It's ballsy, Eddie thinks, undecided if it's brave or stupid.

Letting out a sigh of his own, Eddie shakes his head and goes back to work, but he can't stop thinking about the guy's smile, about what he should do, if he even should do something, is it worth the trouble? He can’t get involved with the mafia or whatever this people’s deal is. Hell! He can’t even get involved with the police, thanks to his father, he’s already a target for them.

Just when he’s about to finish up and still unsure on what to do, he hears a noise from the side of the building and is surprised to see the young man climbing down from a window on the second floor. Eddie watches as he walks on the roof and then jumps down letting himself dangle from the side of the building, it's quite an impressive show of agility honestly. And when he lands, he fixes his jacket and hair again as he walks over to Eddie, "Hi,” he says softly with a smile, "I'm Steve"

Steve's black eye is getting swollen and now his cheekbone is bright red too but Eddie can’t help thinking about how perfect his face is.

“I'm Eddie,” he replies, anxiously looking at the front door.

“Is that your bike?” Steve asks him, nodding to his motorcycle on the sidewalk.

“Yeah?” he answers wary but very curious about where this is going.

Steve looks at him, very purposely letting his eyes roam all over him and Eddie can feel the warmth of his eyes everywhere. When he finally looks back into Eddie's eyes, (not before lingering on his mouth a torturous amount of time) he says, "Wanna get out of here?”

Turns out doing his job and walking away wouldn't be that easy after all.

Choosing between the pay or taking Steve away with him? Easiest choice he ever made.

coffee? let's run away together... ☕🥐💕

[realcube]

CONSEQUENCES

SIR NIGHTEYE SMUT. in which you're a villain who breaks into his house, and he punishes you for it.

tw/tags → nsfw, cursing, implied age gap, vaginal, bondage, fingering, oral (receiving), edging, pet names, impact play, breeding, riding, squirting, overstimulation, brief anal — MINORS DNI

note → oh he's too fine and underrated. smut is labelled if you want to skip to it.

the night was heavy with fog and frost, while the moon shone at the apex of the sky, casting only a soft glow over the big house that stood at the end of the street.

as a child, the house instilled a sense of reverence in you; aspirational and hopeful that one day — if you work hard enough — you may get to live in a house just like that one. but as you grew up, the respect you had slowly faded into seething jealousy and anger, as you realised that no matter how much effort you may put in to your academics or hobbies, you'll always come in second place to those who were gifted at birth with useful quirks, under this flawed system.

that was the beginning of your descent into villainy. and tonight was the night you were finally prove to your younger self that you made the right decision.

standing outside the big house, you stared up at it with a sober expression. you couldn't help but wonder who lived there. all this time you've lived nearby but you've never caught a glimpse of the owner. they were probably some big-headed hero; overpaid and worthless.

if they had enough money to buy such a massive house, they probably could afford all the additional secruity measures too. not that it was an issue for you; your quirk rendered the majority of security essentially useless.

your quirk allowed you to take an incorporeal form, in which you cannot touch or be touched, are invisible and can permeate through matter. however, the major drawback is that you are unable to breath in this form so you can typically only hold it for just over a minute consecutively.

still, a minute leaves you with enough time to rush through the front garden — passed all the cameras — and diffuse through the front door without having to break anything or do any lock-picking.

you don't have much time to scan your surroundings, instead you have to pick a room and study it to make sure there are no cameras or people, before you cease use of your quirk. not only so you can breathe again, but also so you can pick up objects that you want to steal.

you end up choosing the living room as that is where a lot of valubles are kept, and since there doesn't seem to be any cameras, you drop your incorporeal form and start picking up random shit and throwing it into your bag.

while you are doing this, you begin to get a general feel for the type of person that must live here. all their furniture is very modern and sleek and expensive-looking — you'd pick up the whole couch and take it, if you could. overall there is a very mature vibe to the decor, with the exception of a couple All-Might pieces of paraphernalia you find laying around. like a decorative silver silhouette laying on the side table. it was really ugly but you took it anyway because it might be worth something.

you continue going around the room and shovelling items into your bag, wary of your surroundings and who might be lurking. however, as you are sifting through the cabniets under the television, out of no where, you feel a blunt pain against the back of your head and everything went dark.

it stung real bad, and you woke up with a splitting headache. although the first thing you noticed was the pain, once your sight comes back to you and the world stops spinning violently, you become acutely aware of your current situation.

tied up vertically onto some contraption, in what looks to be a dingy basement, and opposite you, sitting at a table, there is a tall, slender man with green hair, sharp features and glasses, which he pushes up the bridge of his nose as he stands up.

"you're awake." he states plainly.

you open your mouth to spit a sly retort, and that is when you realise that you can't because he has taped over your mouth. so instead you furrow your brows and thrash against your contraints to express your displeasure. you hated being caught, but it wasn't a big deal, once you were less winded, you could quite easily slip into your incorporeal form and dart away.

"i see you tried to rob me. i have it recorded, and while you were out i took your fingerprints and a hair sample." the man motions to the contents atop the table, where you could see the tapes and plastic bag which presumably had your hair inside, and he held up the fingerprint samples.

"so i suggest instead of using your quirk to run away, you listen to my offer." he subtly quirks a brow, giving you a once-over to see if you were going to switch form, but instead he sees he has stunned you into complete silence, so he continues.

"perfect." he hums, holding his chin between his thumb and index finger in thought as he paces up and down the length of the table. "i don't think you are an evil villain who means to cause harm to innocents. i think you are a troubled young woman who is mad at hero society. would i be correct in assuming that?"

he looks over his shoulder, briefly awaiting a response and you simply shoot him an unimpressed look with your eyes, since he obviously knows you can't talk.

"right. can't speak." he recalls, then keeps walking, "with a quirk like yours, you could have such a bright and promising future ahead of you. but if i were to report you to the authorities, all that would be soiled because of one terrible decision."

even if you could talk, you didn't feel the need to correct him and say that this wasn't your first time commiting a crime.

"so, i am going to make you an offer. you could use your quirk and run away; i'll hand all of this evidence over to the police, they will catch you eventually and you'll spend the rest of your days rotting in prison. or you can let me handle you myself, and this whole incident will be our little secret."

he slinks up to you, and rips the tape swiftly off your face, causing you to hiss in pain. "what do you say?"

you couldn't lie: something about this man standing so close to you, his hot breath tickling your lips and his intimidating stare glaring right into your soul had your panites pooling with arousal. you shouldn't be so turned on by this situation but you can't stop it.

"what do you mean by 'handle me yourself'?" you cough, finally able to inhale a deep breath.

he tilts his head and explains, "i would put you on the straight and narrow path to rectitude."

"like, with a powerpoint?" you rasp.

he narrows his eyes at you through his glasses, and the intense glare causes you to shudder, "no. i have various methods that will instill cheer and bliss into you." he places his finger under your chin, to hold your face up so you maintain eye-contact with him, "they could be described as sexual in nature."

"some weird pervert fetish." your face contorts to reflect your disgust, though it's merely a guise for your bubbling lust and excitement.

"call it what you want." his piercing yellow eyes stare deeply into yours, "if you would rather not engage, then leave."

you press your lips into a thin line, and interally you relish in how well you got off; not only will you leave scot-free, but also this fine man is going to fuck you silly. a two-in-one! funnily enough, you loathe the alternate reality in which you didn't get caught.

although, despite the slight smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, you don't want to come across as too eager. otherwise, he might not view it as a suitable punishment and the offer will be retracted, so you try to keep the overwhelming joy to yourself.

in an attempt to feign hesitancy, you ask, "how is 'cheer and bliss' going to stop me from being a criminal?"

"i'm glad you asked. shows that you're paying close attention." his intense expression softens for a microsecond as he straightens his back, so you can tell your question pleased him. "i believe laughter and cheer is the backbone of our society and essential in the creation of a brighter future. you've already shown good humour through your ridiculously amusing display of incompetence while trying to rob me. it was thoroughly entertaining to watch."

every word that came out of his mouth was more shocking that the last. never would you expect such a stoic man to be so passionate about comedy and humour. also, you didn't appreciate him calling you incompetent but you kept your mean replies to yourself somehow, thus allowing him to continue,

"when you experience the same joy, you'll understand what i'm referring to and will never return to villainy." he says in a very resounding manner, picking up a long metal rod laying on the table and examining it, "you won't be able to walk properly after our lesson, so at the very least you will not be able to commit any crimes for the next couple of days."

you have no idea where he is going to put that stick, but the possibilities rushing through your mind cause your knees to quiver.

"so, will you be staying for your punishment?" he glances at your figure out of the corner of his eye.

"yes.." you stutter out, still trying to give the impression of a coy, confused girl so he doesn't know how desperate for this you truly are. "but can i ask one more question?"

he takes a piece of fabric out from the pocket of his suit jacket and polishes the metal stick, "you may ask as many questions as you would like, darling."

you gulp slightly, "what should i call you?"

he noticably tenses up for a moment before he gently sets the rod down, then turns to you, while adjusting his glasses, "mirai sasaki. though, you may have heard of me under my hero name: sir nighteye."

"oh, you worked with all might, didn't you? is that why you have so much merchandise of him?"

he nods, "the merchandise you intended to steal, yes."

you frown, frustrated that he was still hung up on that — you thought it was time to move on, but apparently not. "well, i'm sorry about that, sir."

he saunters up where you are tied up, metal rod in hand, and uses it under your chin so you look up to meet his penetrating stare, "if you are good, i might forgive you." he drops the rod and roughly prods the side of your clothed thigh, "we must get rid of these first."

[NSFW]

the contraption that was restricting you held your ankles in such a way that your legs where slightly parted. close enough together to allow sir nighteye to yank your bottoms down in one swift motion, leaving you in your panties. however, your legs were still far enough apart to provide space for his slender fingers to rub your labia through the damp fabric.

you gasp at how sudden he was, though you should've expected only efficiency from such a esteemed man. and it was only now that you take a look down to see your bottoms hanging around your ankles that you notice the contraption was holding you a couple inches off the ground yet he still towered over you.

"so wet already, hm?" he whispers, hot breathe tingling against your neck, his lips only inches away from your tender skin.

"mhm.." you whined, partially embarrassed by him finding out how turned on you are, but mostly too enthralled by his expert fingers against your needy clit to care.

soon, he tugged your panties to the side, circling your labia with his finger to gather your slick before licking those same fingers, promptly sticking them up your soaking cunt, causing you to yelp a little.

however, the pain from the initial stretch to accommodate his two digits quickly faded into pure pleasure. even when he wasn't moving, your eyes were still screwed shut while you moaned endlessly, feebly bucking your hips as much as you could.

he swiftly put an end to your unwanted movements by a harsh wack to the thigh with the metal rod, "behave. the true experience hasn't begun yet."

"when'll it start? i need you.. s' bad, sir." you choke, panting heavily and biting your bottom lip to distract yourself from the unmet needs between your thighs.

"since you asked so nicely." his fingers pump in and out of your pussy, lewd squealing noises echoing through the room with each disgusting slap of his palm against your clit. at first he is slow and thorough, making sure the base of his fingers are right the way inside you before pulling out, even curling them a little which would send a lust-fuelled spark up your spine ever single time.

his pace gradually worked up to being more hasty, more severe. his hand was rapidly thrusting in and out of your hole at a speed you couldn't even begin to compute. and every time you tried, his palm would slam into your clit again and send another mind-numbing jolt of pleasure to your brain.

while you moaned, he watched with a fiery intensity. eyes locked to your face, observing every subtle movement and slight twitch. he was obsessed with the way you looked for him, so greedy yet so innocent. all for his gaze only.

because of how observant he was, as soon as you felt your orgasming coiling inside you, he instantly ceased, preventing you from reaching your climax. once you were able to pry your eyes open, you pouted at him and groan, "huh?"

"not yet." with the cloth kept in his pocket, he carefully wipes clean his slick-coated fingers and gets on his knees. "remember, this is a punishment as well as rehabilitation." his angular features partially hidden between your plush thighs was an interesting sight. but you weren't able to appreciate it for long as your eyes rolls back into your head at the euphoric feeling of his tongue plummeting into your hole.

it squirms around, getting a taste for your juices, resulting in a hungry moan from him against your pussy, the vibrations tickling your clit. his lips lap it all up, while his tongue works your aching insides, plunging into you repeatedly.

exploring within the confines of your tight walls, eventually the tip of his tongue finds the gummy spot in you that makes your toes curl every time he brushes up against it. his mouth fucks you out feverishly; such an austere man losing his restraint was such a turn on for you, and had your pussy clenching around his tongue.

"mph— i need you.." you mewl out into the emptiness of the room.

meanwhile sasaki's face heats up red between your thighs. although eating you out was admittedly hot as fuck and had him pitching a slight tent in his grey trousers, it didn't fluster him because he viewed it as a process towards your punishment, opposed to an activity to feed his own lust.

that was, until he heard you call for him in that way — so lecherous and dirty. it had all the blood in his body either rushing to his cheeks or dick. that was when he realised he might be doing this to serve his own sexual fantasies instead of preventing villainy and helping you see the beauty in joy.

but it's something he has commit to. so what ever the overarching reason may be, he can deconstruct it later. for now, he has to see through what he started.

'see through' in the board sense. that didn't apply when he was tongue-deep in your cunt, devouring your insides like a starved, depraved man until your whole body was shaking and you were on the very edge of a climax. which is when he decided to pull out.

your eyes shoot open at the missing warmth against your pussy, and you inhale sharply. deeply uncomfortable with how the sweet bubbling release within your core was swept away in an instant and you were left with a longing ache between your legs. to be fair, he did give you a warning so you can't say this was unexpected, but certainly dissatisfying.

"sir, c'mon.." you plead, pretty cheeks glistening with tears, "wanna cum for you."

"you will, my dear. trust me." he slowly gets up from the floor, cleaning his sticky cheeks and lips with the cloth again. "it pains me to do this but i hope you are learning a very valuble lesson about grief. it's not nice, is it?"

"no.." you mutter, gaze cast to the ground in shame.

but your swiftly met with a harsh sting on your thigh by the wrath of his metal rod, "look at me."

reluctantly, you lift your head up so your watery eyes meet his, and he stares down upon you with scorn. he asserts, "say that again."

"no."

"full sentence."

"no, it's not a nice feeling." you mumble to stop your voice from trembling. your eyes are locked to his, so you pick up on the very subtle change in his expression — he's contented with your response.

"excellent. i think you deserve to finish now." he turns his back to you and walks over to the table. from how far away you are, you can't properly see what is laid out on the surface besides the tapes and samples, but you can tell there are many things.

once he's collected everything he needs, he comes back over with a few items in his big hands. first, there is vibrator in the shape of a c, which he stuffs into your cunt and allows the tail to hang out, positioning it so it brushes perfectly against your swollen clit. you moan quietly the whole time while he is toying around, fixing it inside you. and though he acts unbothered, really you are feeding his lewd desires and worsening his throbbing erection.

then he has a metal plug which he coats in generously in lube, then slips his arm behind you and shoves it into your ass. when he does so, you yelp and jerk against your restraints at the harsh insertion. but your pussy only gets wetter at how full and conjested you are.

"we will get started when i come back." he states, heading towards the door on the other side of the room.

your mind is already a bit foggy , so he is a few paces away by the time you figure out what he's doing, but then you promptly call out, in a slurred salacious voice, "huh, where're you going?"

"to make myself a cup of coffee. i'll be right back."

"what?! don't leave me here al—" before you could even finish your thought, the door slams shut behind him and he is gone. you can only trust that he'll be back soon to please you.

you let out a deep sigh; the first in what felt like ages. but the relief didn't last long as the wind was almost immediately knocked out of you again at the toy stuffed into your pussy beginning to vibrate. and not lightly either, it was essentially thrashing around inside you and destroying your clit.

you assume this would only last a couple seconds and sir nighteye was only doing this to tease you but no. it went on for ages, the piece of plastic ravaging your walls and poor clit for minutes on end. to the point you were shaking and twisting in your restraints, trying to deal with the copious amount of pleasure surging through you.

you screamed and shouted but you don't think anyone heard you. or maybe he did and he just gets off on this shit. either way you couldn't keep it all inside; it was unbelievably good yet it was just so fucking much. to the point you were gasping for air.

with a vibrator on full shoved into your pussy and abusing your clit, and a buttplug that would send jolts of hot ecstasy rushing through you whenever you'd arch your back against the wall behind you, it wasn't long at all until your first orgasm.

then your second and third rolled out directly afterwards. your thighs being covered with more and more slick each time.

by the time sir nighteye came back with his coffee, you were probably on your fourth or fifth — you lost count — and your sore body was laying limp against the cuffs that held you upright, with your head hanging low as your neck no longer had the strength to carry it.

"look at this." he takes a sip of his drink, while sitting down in the chair adjacent to the table, "you're a mess."

"st— stop, sir. ngh, t' much." you somehow find the strength to coak out, despite the heavy vibrations battering your poor cunt.

"i will stop after you squirt." he declares, completely unwavered by your dishevelled state. he folds his legs and stares at you while holding his cup, waiting patiently.

"sir!" you squeal, body consulving in sheer pleasure, and you grit your teeth together to stop yourself from letting out and ungodly shriek and you feel another seering climax build in your core, blistering your insides. it was so horny and good at first but now it was growing overwhelming, "please, please, please!"

"fine." sir nighteye sighs in defeat.

with that, the contraption you were held to suddenly deactivates and the cuffs around your wrists and ankles retract. therefore, without the support of the metal, you immediately fall to the ground and land on your hands and knees. and the force from hitting the ground sends the toy straight out of your hole, aided by your cumulative wetness.

the plug in you ass stays put, not that you were awfully worried about that one anymore now that the main source of the stimulation was gone, leaving you with great relief. you take a moment to catch your breath.

"come here, my dear. sit with me."

your legs are still trembling so naturally when you try to stand up, you immediately fall back down. in fact that's when you realise your whole body feels like jelly, even your arms are so weak they can barely keep you from face-planting into the ground — your previous orgasms have truly wracked your whole nervous system.

despite clearly seeing you being a fumbling mess and struggling to even stand or kneel, sir nighteye just watches silently, not offering you a hand even when you look to him with a glossy gaze.

after a couple mintues of clumsily stumbling around, you are able to half-walk / half-crawl over to where he is sat, but you fall over again just as you reach him, leaving you kneeled on the ground with your forehead pressed against his leg.

that's when he finally extends a hand you, and slips his arms under yours and pulls you up onto his lap, so you are stradling his legs and facing him. you flop against his chest, his toned abs comforting your cheek from through his white shirt.

"you've learned your lesson now, haven't you?" he hums, your head wrapped up in his arms as he idly strokes your hair.

"mhm.." you say into his chest.

"you won't commit any other crimes?"

you don't respond. at first you didn't have any issue with lying to him but now that he's cradling you in his arms like a precious doll, you feel the need to be more transparent with him.

he takes your lack of response as an answer, "understood. i punished you for the crime you did, even so i have yet to give you any incentive to remain righteous."

as he explains himself, his hands work to unbuckle his belt, so he can pull his cock free. your eyes are glued to his monstrous length as it bounces out, slapping against your thigh. he hooks his arms under your ass and lifts you up while he aligns himself with your sopping hole.

regardless of your recent encounter with the vibrator, you were still eager to be filled up with his cock, and for him to fuck your wanton hole until your legs don't work again. "c'mon.." you whine, burying yourself into his neck while he held you over his cock. cuddling into him was similar to nuzzling a statue but it still brought you some semblence of comfort.

especially as his hold on you finally released and you were left to sink down on his massive length, your slick entrance inviting him inside you, and facilitating your hole to gobble him up, all the way to the base despite how you wriggled and writhed.

his teeth grit together. he wanted to blurt all sorts of profanities about how fucking tight you are and how you are an angel that takes him so well, but he choked it back. replaced by faint grunts and sighs.

his vicious stare didn't part from your body for even a second. he was utterly mesmerised by the way your cunt swallowed him whole. and upon noticing your twitching thighs, he was reminded that you weren't going to be able to ride him, so he utilised his hand on your ass to force you up and down on his length, at a pace he was in control of.

he basically used your body is a fucktoy for his own climax, groping your ass how he liked, using your sore hole as his own, and toying with your plug whenever it appealed it him — tugging and twisting it, he loved making you squirm.

it wasn't long before another sizzling pool of pleasure was accumulating in your stomach, but this time it felt different. not only hotter but deeper too. his cock had that effect on you; the way it slammed into your cervix over and over again ignited something carnal within you.

"sir, m' gu— gnh—" the sounds falling from your bruised lips were hardly words anymore and just syllables. you couldn't form a coherent sentence with how his cock was ploughing into you. " 'm gunna cum!"

"go on. go on." sasaki spoke it like a mantra through bared teeth, eyes screwed shut as he revels in your tight pussy clenching down on him.

as the fluid coil in your core finally snapped, you found yourself gushing around his cock, drenching his grey trousers in the process. though you were too consumed by the sensation to care; your back was arched into him and a scream-like moan departed from your throat.

"(y/n)." he rasps at how your walls spasm around his length, and it tips him right over the edge into his orgasm. as he releases his hot seed into you, he lands harsh slaps to your ass repeatedly, punctuating each with a "fuck" under his breath. he kept smacking it until there was a searing red handprint left on your skin.

not that you minded. it was actually quite sexy hearing such a strict man lose all control for you — submitting himself to your pussy.

his cum spreads all throughout your insides, coating your walls a sticky white. with your orgasms coinciding, your convulsing pussy fucks him through his high until you've milked him dry of every last drop.

that's when he relaxes in his chair, taking shallow breaths in sync with yours, with your face buried into the crook of his neck. your body melts lazily into his, and one of his hands slowly move from your ass to trace your spine. his cock is still fit snug inside you but you like it that way, and so did he.

"now, for every week you go without committing any crimes, i will take you in a new position. how does that sound, my dear?" he asks through huffs.

"i won't do anything bad ever again." you reply without an ounce of hesitancy.

sir nighteye chuckles lowly, and caresses your lower back, "perfect."

[starstruck-sillies]

Keep seeing posts of pro-endos who used to be anti-endo talking about "Ugh, anti-endo spaces are so toxic" which is not necessarily bad, there are bad anti-endo spaces out there and people are allowed to vent about how those spaces hurt them

I do have a problem when they use that as an excuse to call us all toxic and cruel. I've seen many saying things like "Anti endos are so horrible, I'm so glad I'm not one of those monsters anymore"

You need to understand we aren't the monsters you make us out to be. We're traumatized people, trying our hardest to survive with something debilitating, who can't help but see endos as mocking, whether they truly are or not. We can't help but see endos as invading our spaces.

We didn't get to have safe spaces most of the time. We didn't get to be around people who cared about us and understood us. Even those of us that did have a safe space had it poisoned by trauma elsewhere. We spent our childhoods afraid, isolated, and so agonizingly alone, feeling like we were better off dead, that we were freaks, that we were the only ones in the world going through this. This community we made for ourselves was one we had to fight through years of hell to get.

So when random people come over trying to insist that they're "just like us" and demanding to be let in, despite having only one or two things in common that we couldn't even trust they truly had, of course we'll be fucking defensive. In our eyes, you're trying to take the safe spaces we fought tooth and nail for away from us, whether you truly are or not. In our eyes you're people who know nothing about us or what we went through, and continue to go through, trying to barge into our havens and bloat it with bullshit, whether that's what you're trying to do or not.

We've been hurt so many times, by so many people, for so long. Why the fuck would we take a chance on people that are so suspect? You claim to have alters just like us, yet without any of the other symptoms of our disorders. You claim to be systems, yet without being caused by the immense trauma we had to suffer through. Hell, some of you claim that you made your alters for fun, just because you can.

Of course we're wary and defensive. We don't want to even risk losing the spaces we worked so damn hard to get.

If you've had a bad experience with anti-endo spaces, and are pro-endo now because of it, that's fine by me and I understand completely. But that doesn't make us all villians. That doesn't make us all evil monsters.

And besides, many of us have been hurt by pro-endo/mixed origin spaces too. We've seen people have horrible experiences with them. (Let's not forget endos started as natural multiples, who were notoriously shitty, cruel, and discriminatory toward any and all traumagens, and that a lot of that same rhetoric is still rampant in the community, AND that the community at large has basically just decided to pretend that never happened.

-Kaz

[millieisawriter]

Little acts of kindness

kieran duffy x reader

summary: kieran is smitten with you, and you're oblivious to his feelings (and his attempt to confess them), you realize that love shows up in unexpected places, and now it's up to you to decide if you're ready to give him a chance

wc: 1.8k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡

Kieran has been in the gang for a few weeks now, after having joined not by choice, but taken hostage. Fortunately, now that he proved to be trustworthy after saving Arthur's life, he was allowed to freely walk around the camp. Mostly, he just took care of the horses, maybe that was all he knew how to do.

Or maybe he actually loved it, and the horses were rather fond of him, too. Even your mare that was usually wary of others, especially strangers, seemed to not mind it when Kieran would brush her, or feed her.

Others would often joke about how alike you and your mount were – both with a short temper, a bit wild, a bit mean. Many believed your horse still wasn't broken, but you could ride her well. It was others that she didn't allow get close to her, especially men.

That's why you were more than surprised when you saw Kieran so close to her. He was brushing your mare's tail, and he could still stand on his feet, which was odd considering your mare's temper.

"O'Driscoll boy." You called out, causing Kieran to flinch, you could tell he didn't see you coming.

"I— I ain't no O'Driscoll, miss." He replied nervously, tired of everyone calling him that name. He didn't even run with O'Driscolls that long. "I'm— I'm sorry, I thought I'd just..."

Kieran trailed off as you approached closer, hoping you won't notice his breath becoming so shallow he could stop breathing at all. And, as you stood right next to him, you saw how beautifully he had braided your mare's tail.

Ever since Kieran has been let off that pole, he was trying his best to blend into the background. Doing just enough to contribute, keep the camp clean and the horses fed, but not enough to catch someone's attention and get yelled at for nothing.

Even though Kieran didn't mind it when you were the one yelling at him. Well, you didn't really shout, but even if you were just snapping at him, or nagging him to do something, he would secretly be happy, because at least you talked to him.

"Maybe you ain't that bad, Kieran."

Kieran knew these words probably didn't mean anything to you, but they made his heart thud in his chest like a train. And you were the outlaw his train was robbed by. And this was the first time you called him by his first name, instead of O'Driscoll boy, or something worse.

You continued, "She doesn't let others get close to her, not the men at least. Guess you're special." Your tone was teasing, but he took your words as a compliment.

"She's a nice horse," Kieran said, "I don't get why others say she's... mean."

Mean wasn't exactly how others described her, but you caught his meaning. "Guess she's very picky. I remember when we were out on a job in Blackwater and she literally bit Micah in the ass. He was so angry, it was priceless. Micah still says she should've been shot long ago, apparently that's what happens to crazy horses."

You laughed at the memory, and Kieran smiled. He didn't know why you were talking to him, but he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

"I just..." he hesitated, "I dunno, talked to her. It's kind of like talking to people, you gotta earn their trust."

You hummed thoughtfully, surprised by his answer. It was easy to forget that there was more to Kieran than his stammering and nervous glances. For all his skittishness, he was an intelligent and caring guy - something most men in the gang lacked.

"Or maybe she's just like a stick of dynamite," Kieran allowed himself to joke, "gotta be careful with those."

A short laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "So which one is it, Kieran? Is she nice, or a dynamite stick?"

"Can't she be both? Makes her a lot of work, but she's worth it..."

The look in his eyes caught you off guard. He was talking about the horse, yes, but his words could have a deeper meaning.

Your mare shifted in spot, her ears flicking as if sensing the tension, and Kieran's gaze fell back to her, as if he feared he said too much.

"Thanks for braiding her tail," you switched the topic, "it looks pretty."

The second time you didn't snap at Kieran, but instead were nice to him, was a few days later. There were some tensions in the gang, Micah trying to get inside everyone's heads, Sadie arguing with Pearson, Abigail nagging about John's lack of responsibility more than usually.

So you decided to clear your head and go for a ride. Grabbing the saddle and throwing it over your mare's back, you hoped to be quick so that no one starts nagging your ass about a chore that needed doing.

As you tightened the straps, you felt something was different. You ran your hand along the leather, frowning. The buckle near the stirrup, the one that had been coming loose for weeks, was now repaired. As if someone carefully mended it without telling you, and you had an idea who could have done it.

You've been meaning to fix it for ages, but never had time. Every time you came back from a job, there were chores that needed doing, or people needing something. You barely had time to eat, let alone fix the saddle.

Kieran, as always, was by the horses. Making your way over, you heard a soft melody he was humming as he brushed one of the horses.

"Hey, O'Driscoll boy." You said, but your tone had softened throughout the days.

Kieran's eyes met yours, and you could see the nervousness already setting in. "Yes, miss?" He asked, clutching the brush in both hands.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about a saddle that needed fixing, would ya?"

He gulped, afraid he overcrossed a boundary. "Oh... yeah, uh, I noticed it needed fixing. So I— I fixed it. Didn't want you falling and getting hurt or... something. I know you didn't ask for help, but—"

You interrupted him, "I ain't mad, Kieran. Thank you, I appreciate it, really."

Kieran's face brightened as if you just handed him gold, his eyes widening. "I'm just happy to help, miss."

The next few days were tiring. Dutch had you running errands for him, some business in Rhodes, and you were so tired you couldn't wait to have a moment to sit down and relax.

You had just rode back into the camp. There was nothing you dreamed of more than sitting down for a moment to drink coffee and talk with the girls. If you were lucky, maybe Grimshaw wouldn't be after your asses for being lazy for more than five minutes.

You had barely finished unsaddling your mare when Kieran approached you.

"Hey, uhh..." he started hesitantly, shifting in spot, "I was wondering if you'd like t-to go fishing... with me?"

You blinked at him, your tired mind only half-processing his words. Fishing sounded like more effort than you had energy for. Besides, you weren't that good at fishing anyway. Like, Arthur was better than you, and he wasn't good at all, which spoke for itself.

"Not sure, Kieran. Kinda just feel like sitting around today, y'know?"

Kieran's face fell just a little, but he quickly covered it with a nod, forcing a polite smile. "I see, I see. Maybe another time."

"Maybe another time."

You walked off to where the girls were gathered by their wagon, and you didn't see how Kieran walked away, his shoulders slouched as if he has just been scolded.

Plopping down beside Mary-Beth, you stretched out with a sigh, savoring the momentary peace. The girl beside you gave you a nudge.

"What did Kieran want?" She asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing," you replied with a dismissive wave, "he just wanted to go fishing or something. Told him I'm too tired for that. Not like I can fish anyway, never had the patience."

Other girls exchanged a knowing look, clearly amused, which only seemed to confuse you. "Oh, honey." Karen chuckled.

You looked between the three girls. "What?"

Tilly spoke, "You don't realize, do you?"

"Realize what?"

Mary-Beth leaned in, lowering her voice. "It wasn't just fishing he was asking you for. He was asking you to spend time with him. Alone."

You paused for a second, maybe too tired to process the meaning. "And?"

Tilly rolled her eyes, clearly struggling to hold back a laugh. "Girl, he likes you! He's been watching you for... well, as long as we've been out of Colter and he could take a proper look at you."

"What are you talking about?" Your tone expressed annoyance, but the blush that crept onto your face told a different story.

Karen interjected, louder than you'd like, "He's sweet on you, god damn it!"

Other girls laughed along as you let the realization hit you. You weren't the one to get involved with men, always too busy to focus on romance. Not like any man in the gang was your type anyway, but now... well, Kieran was a part of the gang too. Maybe it was the time to lay off the hard work to the side and focus on some romance in your story.

"You really think he was asking me... on a date?" You hesitated.

"Yeah," Mary-Beth nodded, "in his... odd, shy way. Probably the only way he knows. Kind of cute, it is."

Karen added, "Must've been the first time poor boy did somethin' like this. And he got rejected!"

Mary-Beth patted your shoulder encouragingly. "Go on, you can still catch him."

Hesitantly, you got to your feet, your heart racing as you made your way across camp. It didn't take long to find Kieran. As always, he was just trying to stay out of everyone's way. He was sitting down, fixing another saddle.

"Kieran?" You said, now with a completely soft tone of voice.

He looked up at you from his work, surprised. "Uh, yes, miss?" He asked, already bracing himself for another disappointment.

And just like that, your mind was empty and no words could come to mind. You bit your lip, thinking. "I was, uh, thinking... about that fishing offer, y'know? Is it still on the table?"

His face lit up, a bigger smile replacing his usual shy grimace. "Yes, yes, it is."

"I think I'd like to go, after all..."

"Great! I mean... good, good." He stood up, setting the saddle he was fixing aside. "I'll, uh, go get my fishing rod."

Your eyes followed Kieran as he rushed off to find the item. Maybe you were blind before, but you weren't about to make that mistake again.

You didn't even have a fishing rod anymore, not after your previous one snapped in half years ago. But you agreed to go, just to spend some time with Kieran. He was so nice, after all, so why not give him a chance.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Dangerous Game: Part 1

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte (Biker AU)

Pairing: Qimir x F!Reader

Summary: A stranger on a motorcycle arrives in your small town and you can't help but be intrigued by him and this mission that he's set on.

A/N: uuuummmm have another qimir series i guess??? i'm gonna TRY to keep this to three parts. major emphasis on TRY.

Qimir Masterlist

You sit across from your mentor, Sol, at the cafe downtown. He looks over your thesis while you anxiously sit across from him. Your hands are clasped in your lap while your knee is bouncing.

"It's good," he says after nearly ten minutes of silence.

"I'm sensing a but," you murmur, looking at him in anticipation.

Sol looks up, an expression on his face that says something along the lines of 'I'm sorry you have to make more revisions', "I don't think your connection to the material and the study is strong enough. There are some weak points that I've marked and think you should further build upon."

You let out a deep breath, "Yeah. Okay."

"You're almost there, Y/N. I have faith in you," he hands back your thesis.

"Thanks, Dr. Sol," you slump in your chair, looking at the notes he made.

The music and chatter in the cafe create a calming ambience for you as you skim through the notes. You occasionally pause to take a few sips from your vanilla latte.

However, your concentration and peace are broken when you hear a loud roar down the street. Your spot next to the window allows you the perfect few to see a motorcyclist approaching the sidewalk right outside the cafe. The bike is so loud the windows shake a little and then come to a halt when the rider kills the engine.

From the build, you can tell the rider is a man. He unmounts his bike, taking off his matte black helmet to reveal long black locks and an incredibly handsome face.

"Who's that?" you ask.

Dr. Sol looks up from his own paperwork and peers through the window. He makes a sound of distaste, "I don't know, but he looks like trouble." Your mentor looks away, going back to his work.

You? You continue to watch the stranger as he unzip his jacket and fasten his helmet onto his backpack.

As if feeling your eyes on him, he looks up, directly at you. Usually, you would look away, but there was something about this guy that didn't allow you to.

He smirks and gives you wink before swinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading towards the cafe.

"He's coming inside," you state to not really anyone, but yourself. But your voice has Dr. Sol looking up and over his shoulder as the stranger enters the establishment.

The stranger immediately looks your way, winks again, and then approaches the order counter.

Dr. Sol turns back to you and gives you a disapproving look, "Y/N, I know I'm not your parent, but I do advise you to be wary around people like him."

You can't help but roll your eyes at the older man, "Are you seriously judging someone from how they look?"

"The emblem on the back of his jacket," Sol points as the stranger orders from the counter. You see a smiling skull with a red slash going diagonally through it, "That symbol is from a gang a few towns over. They're bad news, Y/N. You stay away from him and anyone else associated with him."

He looks at his watch and sighs, "I need to head back to campus for a meeting. Will you be alright here?"

"Yes, sir. I can take care of myself," you wave off your mentor as he quickly packs and exits the cafe.

You go back to reading through the notes Dr. Sol made when you see movement in your peripherals. Just your luck, the stranger sits at the table near yours. The one right behind where Dr. Sol sat. This gave you the perfect view of him and it seemed like this handsome stranger knew that because he was already looking at you with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

He lifts his hand and gives you a little wave. Unsure if he's actually waving at you, you glance over your shoulder to see if someone was behind you. There wasn't.

You turn back around and he's chuckling. He proceeds to stand and walk over to your table, "Alright if I sit here?" he gestures to the empty seat across from you.

"Uh, sure, if you want?"

He sits with a grunt, setting his backpack under the table.

"You're not from here," you state.

He chuckles, "You are correct. I'm not. I'm Qimir," he holds his hand out and it stays there as you narrow your eyes at him. He slowly closes his fist and brings his hand back, "Alright. Not a handshake kind of person?"

"Why're you here?"

He cocks a brow, "Do you usually interrogate strangers at a cafe?"

"Only when those strangers are part of a dangerous biker gang."

You pique Qimir's interest. You can tell with the way his eyes brighten and his back straightens. He clasps his hands and rests them on the table, "So you know about us?"

"Well, not really. My mentor, the guy who was previously in your seat, told me you're a part of some dangerous biker gang from a few towns over."

Qimir leans back in his chair with a chuckle, now crossing his arms over his chest, "You small town folk with your small mindedness. Someone new comes into town and doesn't look or act like the rest of you, we're immediately labelled as dangerous and trouble. Typical."

"So you're not dangerous?"

He scoffs, "We can be, but only when necessary," he states with a smirk and you get chills. You're not sure if it's from fear or...something else.

You clear your throat, "Well, whatever you're here for, I just ask you not to cause any trouble. We're a peaceful town. We don't want any trouble."

Qimir scoffs again, "Peace is a lie. All of the people who runs these towns say they're the safest or nicest places. But they're usually run by corruption, deceit, and lies."

You become defensive, crossing your arms over your chest, mimicking his posture, "That's not true."

"It is. Many leaders use power, money, exploitation, and extortion to get where they are and stay where they are. Yet, they preach about keeping their towns safe and clean, when they're some of the dirtiest assholes out there."

"So is that why you're here? To expose these people?"

He shrugs, "I wouldn't say we expose them. It's moreso revealing the truth." he holds his hand out and grins, "Wanna join me?"

[donutz]

yeah fs! It would be alr if you did one where reader continuously like rub Catnap's ears! ^.^

Okay! ^_^

Catnap x touchy(not weirdly) reader

—☆You are a human in this

Being a little kid, who’s an orphan, at a big place with a bunch of toys can make you quite interested in things. There’s a lot to explore, people to meet, toys to see, and a bunch of colors to look at.

When you’re basically living in this factory, you can get bored. Even with everything that’s going on.

But if you’re being taken care of by some toys? You can’t really get bored.

Especially at 5 years old.

There’s these animals, called Smiling Critters. And they take care of you! They all love and cherish you. You were shy, but they really brought out your social side.

Anyways let me stop rambling, there was this cat. That cat didn’t interact with the children, unless it was bedtime. But during the day, he was gone.

Well, not completely. Sometimes he was but you have no idea where he was at those times. When he was actually here, just not interacting with kids, you’d always see him in a high place. Watching everybody.

But when you stare at him for too long, he moves. Yet you still find him every single time.

You wished he didn’t run away from you :(.

Since you’re a good kid, you went to sleep at the times you were supposed to.

But since he came out when you’re supposed to sleep. One night, you decided to stay up and roam the halls.

“Why are you gonna stay up?”

“Because I wanna see the kitty!” You whispered to your friend.

“What kitty?”

“The one that comes out at night!”

Your friend was a little wary after hearing that, they didn’t know that!

“That’s spooky…”

“Well I like cats!”

“Are you gonna come with me?”

They shook their head, making a mumbled, ‘auh auh’ (Idk, I tried my best trying to give that a word)

“I’m too sleepy…”

“Okay!”

Then, after that you waited, until it was bedtime. You opened the door, looking at both sides, making sure there wasn’t any other critter lurking around.

Then, you stepped out.

It was quite cold in the halls, but it was fine you had your robe, long pants and slippers.

You looked back one second, turned around and there he was!

You let out a gasp, “Kitty!” And gave him a hug.

He looked at you, processing. Why were you hugging him?

Whatever. You needed to sleep. But they said to not use the gas. He doesn’t care about what they say, but he didn’t want to give you nightmares.

Plus, you were pretty warm.

So to not let go of that warmth, he picked you up.

“Oh! Kitty you’re so strong—!” He looked up at you, carrying you with one arm, he put a finger over his wide smiling mouth.

“Oops, sorry.. ^_^” He carried you over to your room, wait. Where was your room?

Great, now he had to ask.

“Where’s… Your room..?”

“Oh, I don’t know!”

.

.

.

“O-kay.”

He could take you up to the ‘adults’ but—

You started petting his ears. “Your ears are so fluffy!” You said while whispering.

Out of his control,(kind of) he started purring. You let out another gasp, “You purr too?”

“...”

“You really are a kitty!”

Fun fact, you loved cats.

Another one, you just might be his favorite kid.

Since he didn’t want to take you to the adults, and didn’t know your room number(even if your friend tells you multiple times) he took you to his critter room. Even if no kids were allowed in there.

All of the critters were asleep, except for him, of course.

He placed you on his bed, and went on it too.

And he stared. Waiting for you to sleep.

“Oh yeah, what’s your name kitty?”

“... Theo…”

“(°〇°), Theo.. That’s a cool name..”

He got off his bed and started to leave. Because of this, you did it too, and followed him. Though he knew you were doing this he didn’t stop.

He randomly sped up and ran to another place. It was so abrupt, you weren’t able to catch up!

By the time you turned a corner, he was gone. But his lavender scent wasn’t. You followed and followed it. 

Until it led to the school. Even if you’re not supposed to go there at bedtime, you wanted to catch up with Theo.

And you can want to catch up with Theo at any time!

Oh great! You found him!

But he was bigger. Lankier. He wasn’t the smaller and plush cat you just saw.

That’s still Theo.

So you didn’t care, you followed and followed, until it led you to a big play area, with different colored soft blocks used as a structure.

This place is really big. Anyways, Theo!

You saw him go to this smaller area, you went inside and saw him. Sitting, bending over just to see you.

“Theo!” You exclaimed, raising your hands in celebration.

Of course, you gave him a big hug.

“That was a nice game of tag! But I’m sleepy…”

Theo used his long tail to grab you, gently. He brought you to his bed, and sat you there.

“Oof!” Then he wrapped himself around you, cuddling against you.

You turned around and laid against him.

“You’re so warm, Theo.” You softly held his tail. And as you went to sleep, you could hear a loud purr.

.

.

.

After that, you found Theo every time he was hiding, but instead of just looking you called his name.

But every time you did, he left.

A day after that he told you to not call him out. Just stare at him. But when he’s down, actually on the ground, you could come to him, but call him Catnap.

He doesn’t want them to get mad at him again.

And now almost routinely, because sometimes you wanted to just sleep, you went out of your room at bedtime just to see him.

It got so bad that he even allowed you to just hug, rub his ears, and play with his tail whenever.

He even started coming down even more. Just for you.

The critters noticed, Dogday even asked about it but Theo stayed silent.

You were special. Special to him.

Even after all these years. Even after getting adopted. Even after you arrived.

Coming back to the place that was once called home.

[jimxnslight]

2 and/or 16 with a sad mopey jungkook who saw oc with her new man, trying desperately to convince her to leave him for him because he just doesn’t get how she could have possibly moved on yet even if it’s been like a year or two

Don’t You Miss Me Anymore? | JJK

Pairing: student!Jungkook x figure skater!reader

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: None

A/N: why am I physically incapable of writing a 1k word drabble…

“You can’t be here right now,” you huffed as you rushed along the hard concrete surface of the sidewalk, your black coat billowing behind you while your nose and cheeks suffered at the hands of the chilly air. Perhaps if you slowed down the wind would bite less harshly at your skin, perhaps your heart wouldn’t be racing in your chest as fast as it was right now, but if you weren’t speed walking away from the bus you had just stepped off of, you knew you would’ve been standing back at the bus stop like a statue, the shock of seeing the man you thought you would never see again freezing you in a way the winter cold could never.

“Y/N wait,” a familiar male voice called from behind you.

What was he doing back here?

He should’ve been halfway across the world right now, speaking flawless English to his American friends and eating American foods and living the American Dream everyone seemed to always be raving about. Not back here, in your simple neighbourhood, following behind you as you tried to make a hasty beeline to your home. 

“Y/N please, I need to talk to you,” he continued to follow behind you, much more effortlessly considering his longer legs. 

Whenever you got back from work, you would always get off the bus in the neighbourhood next to your own, preferring to walk the last few minutes in a comforting silence, but now you were regretting that choice of yours. Now you wanted nothing more than to lock yourself in your home and pretend you hadn’t just spotted your ex boyfriend waiting for you at the bus stop, the one who you hadn’t seen in almost a year. 

You picked up your pace, not allowing him to catch up even though you knew he could if he wanted to, “well, I don’t want to speak with you.”

“Why?” He whined, the question inducing a short silence before he spoke again, his tone turning bitter, “it’s not because of… him, is it?”

That stopped you in your tracks. 

The action had been so abrupt he almost crashed straight into your back, only narrowly missing the collision at the last moment. He couldn’t possibly have been talking about… no. No way. Things were still so new, they had barely even begun. How could he have found out so quickly?

You turned around, determined to get some answers, but the sudden sight of him left you speechless for a moment. 

Jeon Jungkook. 

He was standing so close to you that your coats brushed together as a gust of wind whirled between your legs, his face barely a breath away from your own. That face, with his strong jawline and structured eyebrows and defined nose, but also his pouty lips and soft skin and doe eyes. You had to look away as you took a step backwards, trying to hide the old feelings starting to rise to the surface of your exterior. 

“Who is him?” You asked, your tone a lot less bitter than you would have liked. Maybe if you were mean, he would leave you alone, but it wasn’t in your nature to be like that, especially to Jungkook despite everything that led to your breakup.

A brow on Jungkook’s face raised, as if he wasn’t sure if you were serious or not, “you know who I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t.”

He sighed, taking a second to gather himself, “your new boyfriend, Y/N. That’s who I’m talking about.”

“How could you possibly know about that?”

“Namjoon told me.”

That idiot, you should’ve known not to tell especially him of all people. He’d always had a soft spot for Jungkook, never scolding him or berating him over things Jin would’ve choke slammed him into the Atlantic ocean for. But that piece of information also made you a bit wary, because you wondered what else Namjoon had told Jungkook about you in all these months, you wondered why Jungkook even cared to know. 

“Fine,” you huffed, turning around to resume your journey back to your home - and also to avoid the sight of his features -, “yes, I can’t talk to you because of my boyfriend.”

Jungkook made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a whine and a groan, as if the word boyfriend was suddenly the most atrocious term created by human beings who foresaw just how torturous it would be to his ears, before he began to follow behind you. Thankfully he was smart enough to drop the boyfriend topic, choosing instead to resume his earlier point. 

“I just need you to hear me out. That’s all I’m asking for,” he pleaded, watching as you continued to turn into your street, relieved to catch sight of your house a few blocks away, “I really need to talk to you.”

“No.”

“Please, Y/N. Just give me one chance to explain.”

You were practically jogging at this point, almost desperate to get away from the smooth lilt of his voice. The voice that used to softly comfort you through those days when you felt like the world was sitting heavily on your shoulders, that used to praise you whenever you would bring home a gold from your competitions, that used to gently coax you out of your anger whenever it felt as though your unsupportive parents had lit you on fire with just their discouraging words. That voice could have asked you for anything and you would’ve given it without a second thought, even now you could feel yourself drawn to it despite the months you two have been apart. 

“I said no,” you forced out, sighing in relief when you managed to make it up the three stone steps leading to your front door before dropping your heavy canvas bag at your feet. The stretch of silence that followed as you began to dig into your purse for your keys gave you a little hope that Jungkook had finally given up on whatever mission he was so determined on. 

It was only when your keys had slotted into the lock of your front door that he seemed to really panic. 

“I want us to make up,” he announced quickly, feeling you slipping from between his fingers. Your brows furrowed as you turned around to remind him that you weren’t the “friends with her exes” kind of girl and you’d made that very clear to him after your break up. But before you could open your mouth, he spoke once more.

“I want you to be my girlfriend again.”

He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you with sombre doe eyes. It was only now that you could see the desperation in his features, evident in the slight dip of his lips and furrow of his brows. You hated that you also noticed just how beautiful he looked, the sun setting behind him casting a warm glow on his skin and dark brown hair. 

“That’s not possible anymore, Jungkook,” you stated, shifting your gaze away from his once again. God, it was so hard to be in his presence, so hard to be near him and not be able to touch him like you used to. You thought you were finally starting to get over him, but clearly it was only his absence that had given you any semblance of a chance. 

“Look, I know how things ended may make it seem that way-” He began, but you cut him off instantly.

“Things ended because they had to. There’s nothing else left to do except move on.”

 “But-”

“No, Jungkook. It’s over.”

It was over the moment Jungkook received that letter a year ago. 

You both obviously hadn’t known it back then, you had been too wrapped in that safe bubble of childish dreams and love to ever consider just how complicated the future could become. But then reality came along and hit those two stupid 18 year olds like a truck. 

It had been one week after your high school graduations, the two of you still riding that joy until Jungkook had showed up at your door with a large envelope clutched between his fingers. You remember noticing how nervous he looked, his knuckles white and his eyes wide in worry. You’d quickly ushered him into your bedroom, letting your mom know who was at the door, before closing it behind you. 

“Is that what I think it is?” You had asked curiously, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he nodded, you smiled, “it looks big, that’s a good sign, right?”

“You open it,” he’d exclaimed, shoving the envelope in your direction with shaky hands. You couldn’t understand why Jungkook was so nervous, if anyone deserved to be accepted into this program it was him. 

You ripped the top of the envelope open, eyes widening when you caught sight of a single word. 

Congratulations. 

“Oh my god, you’re in!” You’d exclaimed, shoving the papers back towards him with shaking hands. At first Jungkook had seemed shocked, his eyes scanning the document before him as if he were in a dream. But then a huge grin had overtaken his features, the realisation that this was real finally setting in before he threw his arms around you, pressing his lips to yours. You had laughed, cupping his cheeks, knowing that the dream your boyfriend had been working towards for years was finally becoming reality. 

That joy didn’t last long. 

The engineering program that Jungkook had been accepted into, which was one of the most competitive in the entire world and would allow him to work with the most distinguished engineers in the field, was based in America. On top of the generous scholarship and the promise of all expenses being paid, there was nothing standing in the way of his dream. 

Nothing… aside from you. 

You had been in one of the top figure skating programs in the country since you were a child, the chance of becoming an olympic level athlete high according to your coaches as long as you stayed focused on your goal.  

Initially, you had both tried to find a way to prevent the separation, with Jungkook asking his program coordinators if there was any way he could stay in South Korea while you went to your own program to request any way in which you could continue while living in America. But your efforts were fruitless, and soon you were forced to deal with the reality at hand. 

The conversation hadn’t gone well at all. You’d insisted that trying long distance wouldn’t be so bad, but Jungkook had argued that the two of you would eventually fall out of it. Back then the words had hurt you, that he’d had so little faith in your relationship especially since you both had been best friends before you started dating. Things had completely exploded after that, building into an emotionally messy situation that by the time it was time for Jungkook to leave for America, your breakup had been inevitable. 

Now that you were a little older, you could understand Jungkook’s perspective a bit more after witnessing all the long distance relationships crumble around you gradually, and you could also admit just how poorly you both had handled the entire situation in general. Not to mention, you’d been given a lot of time to really think it over and you’d realised just how superficially you both had viewed the issue. Had it never occurred to you that, with such a valuable degree, Jungkook might want to stay in America after University to work alongside the greats? And that you, with your entire life here, wouldn’t want to move to a different country? 

Perhaps the breakup had been for the best, or at least that was what you had concluded. 

So then why was Jungkook back here, expecting anything to have changed?

“It doesn’t have to be over,” Jungkook tried again, his breath coming out foggy against the cold air. 

“But it does,” you tried to convince him, “I have a boyfriend now, Jungkook.”

“Forget him, it’s not even serious. Come one, Y/N… don’t you miss me anymore?”

His presence was starting to make you realise that you did. It had taken you months to get over him despite how messy the breakup had been, but now you were starting to wonder if you had actually gotten over him or you’d only convinced yourself you had. The latter made you feel ashamed, guilty that your current boyfriend had a girlfriend that might not truly be over her ex just yet. 

That guilt forced you to turn away from him and grab the handle, determined to put an end to this for the sake of loyalty, “nothing has changed. You’re still there and I’m still here. So goodnight-”

“I dropped out of the program.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, snapping back to him in shock. You scanned him from head to toe, trying to pick up on anything that might indicate that he was lying or just joking around. But his eyes lacked any amusement and the edge of his lip was turned downward in that way it always did when he was being serious. 

Jeon Jungkook had dropped his dream. 

The boy whose parents had died when he was young, who had struggled all throughout his life to get through school because of it, who only had one dream of becoming one of the best engineers the world has ever known… had dropped out. 

“I thought I would be able to move on. I’ve heard time is supposed to heal, but I swear Y/N whoever made that phrase is a lying bastard because time away from you only made things worse. I thought about you everyday, about how much I missed what we had and hated what we became.”

Jungkook swallowed, suddenly looking like the shy and vulnerable 15 year old boy you first met in tenth grade. 

“I think… I think that deep down I had intentionally tried to break us up before I left - like getting the breakup over with then would be better than trying to hold on, only to fall apart slowly and painfully. But I didn’t realise that pushing you away would be the one regret that followed me everywhere I went.”

He moved forward then, climbing the stairs until he was face to face with your quiet figure. Your mind felt like a hurricane, the words coming out of his mouth only spurring your thoughts into more and more chaos, until his final words seemed to shut you down entirely. 

“I still love you, Y/N, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“But- you can’t just give up on-” You tried to get out, but Jungkook beat you to it, reading your mind perfectly. 

“I’ll study engineering here. I don’t need a fancy American University to do that, South Korea has great enough options. Either way, I’ll make it work, it’s what I should’ve done back then.”

Now you were rendered completely speechless. Jungkook had just dropped his dreams in America and come back… all for you. You didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know how to even wrap your mind around the dramatic turn of events. Most of all, you had no damn clue what it was you wanted. 

Or rather who it was.

“Hey.”

You and Jungkook turned to find your boyfriend standing at the bottom of the stairs, his almost black locks pushed backwards and hands shoved into his pockets as he gifted you a soft smile. Then his gaze travelled to Jungkook, curiosity spreading throughout his features. 

“Who’s this?” He asked, climbing the steps before him to stand by your side. Jungkook’s sharp gaze stayed fixed on the way his arm wrapped around your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. 

“This is Jungkook,” you managed to say, although you couldn’t admit anything further with all the emotions whirling through your mind, “Jungkook, this is Yoongi. My boyfriend.”

Yoongi gave him a nod, though you could tell the lack of description left him curious as to who Jungkook was.

“Is he coming inside or…?” He asked.

There was a beat of silence, and honestly a part of you was glad Yoongi was here. Glad that the moment hadn’t stretched enough that you might have actually given Jungkook’s proposition an answer. Whether it was because you were afraid you might have said yes, or might have said no, you didn’t know. 

“No,” you finally answered instead, taking a breath to pull yourself together, “he was just leaving actually.”

Jungkook didn’t move, doe eyes trying to meet your lowered gaze. You could tell your words must have hurt him, but you also knew that he wouldn’t take much offence to it just yet because this won’t be the first time he’ll approach you. You’ve known Jungkook for years, and you knew that he put immense effort into getting what he wanted. Not to mention there was something in his eyes too, a firm kind of determination that told you he wasn’t going down without a fight. 

A hesitant breath escaped Yoongi’s lips, seeming to pick up on the weird tension in the air between you both. 

“Alright, we should get going then,” he said, pushing the front door open while he guided you inside the house, “it was nice meeting you, Jungkook.”

You were glad Yoongi was there to pull you away from the situation, because you were sure you wouldn’t have had the strength to do it on your own. The lack of Jungkook in your presence was starting to allow your sense to flood back into your mind, chastising you for even thinking of something so crazy. 

And yet, despite the sense returning to you, you couldn’t deny this feeling of yearning that had settled into your heart - or maybe it has always been there and you’ve just been ignoring it ever since Jungkook left. Either way, you hope for your sake that you don’t ever meet Jungkook again. 

Because when you really thought about it, when you began to question every one of your feelings and desires, you always found your mind jumping back to Jungkook without fail. You hated that you spent a year trying to forget him, and one appearance from him had you back to square one. You hated that he still had such a huge effect on you, and that you were still so embarrassingly weak for him.

But most of all, you hated that the next time you saw him… 

You feared you might actually tell him yes.