#save me grammar police

[heavyheavycream]

feedist kinktober 26 : ice cream dream

[the-moonprophet]

PSA “mortified” is not another word for “terrified”

It is however a synonym for “embarrassed”

that is all have a good night

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

Chapter Guide! Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt4

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[angeliteria]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒.

pairings — fem!reader and rafe cameron.

summary — after rafe takes your life, he tries to move on, and simply pretends he’s the one who didn’t do so. eventually, hauntings and truths will lay themselves out to remind rafe just how sickening he is.

warning tags — adult language. details of gruesome m*rder & m*rder itself. mentions of DV relationship, (brief) child ab*se & awful parents. talks of religion and god. reader’s pov from heaven (?? just stick w the program). rafe actually going more insane than usual. overall dark content.

author’s note — this is based on and inspired by ethel cain’s song ‘strangers’ and while this song has multiple interpretations to go by, i’m taking mine by the main and common one (just without the c*nnibalism!). this also gets super dark and depressing so if you cannot bear any of it, please click off! this also isn’t revised at all so my apologies for grammar mistakes.

likes, shares & reblogs are very much appreciated ⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ

you had tears in your eyes, body shaking to point you thought you’d convulse. you tried to be obedient by keeping in rafe’s secret of what he had done on that tarmac. he beat you to make sure you kept your mouth shut for good.

he said, “i’ll kill you if you say one word,” and it took enough fear to believe him, but you didn’t think that day would come.

murder is an evil thing, and everyone can attest to it. rafe murdered sheriff peterkin as if she was nothing, as if she was a problem in the way. bad enough, he let john b. routledge — one of your best friends — take the fall for it.

you continued to keep your mouth shut, but after rafe tried to invade the police, ward killing himself, you didn’t see a reason to keep quiet. ward was the only reason why rafe could stay out of prison, and now that he wasn’t around, you could speak.

your father preached every sunday to live by righteousness and good, to never let evil win.

rafe was that evil. he was the devil himself.

the devil that you danced with, let make love to you, kiss you, but also beat you until stars twinkled in your vision, and your breath kept getting caught in your throat.

your mother would be horrified to know that, your father too. but it was their fault in a way that you accepted this cruelty as love; your father, especially to blame.

if love is not meant to be hit at you, does it even exist? your father showed you that when he’d slap or punch you for falling out of line, but go to church the next day, and preach about being a good servant to god.

you wanted all evil out of your life. it was suffocating, it was drowning you.

rafe had to be eliminated first.

“you killed peterkin, and i’m tired of knowing it,” you said, picking up your car keys. “we are done, and i won’t even show up to your trial when you go down for it.”

rafe just stared at you appalled and puzzled, sitting on the edge of his bed. you were close to being far out enough to your car until strong, violent hand seized you.

you screamed and kicked, not being new to this routine, only knowing that he was going to harm you.

you could never predict that his violence would lead him to murdering you.

“let me go, rafe!” you screamed, being pulled inside, your pleas and cries echoing in the empty home.

expecting to be physically berated, you were being led downwards.

to the wine cellar basement.

and for once in a while, you prayed to god, and hoped he would finally listen to you this time. that he would save his child, and perform a miracle.

but a miracle never came as rafe manhandled you, pinning you down on the cement ground of the basement.

“shut the fuck up! stop crying!” he yelled, a solid punch coming to your cheek, and you yelped, an easy gush of blood rushing out of your mouth. “you’re a fuckin’ backstabber. after everything i’ve done for you, gonna treat me like that?”

you cried, shaking your head. “r—rafe, please! i’ll be good, i’ll stop!”

“don’t trust you, little one. can’t let you ruin everything,” rafe said, reaching for something out of his back pocket.

the more you fought back, the more angry he got; the more you fueled the fire that rested in his hands and body.

before you could let out another plead, a sharp pain was made into your abdomen.

rafe stabbed you — and he wasn’t planning on stopping there.

god wasn’t there. you would show up to his gates in this condition, and ask him why he let it happen. if god is real, why did he bear witness instead of saving you?

rafe doesn’t recall killing you.

he remembers grabbing, and dragging you down into wine cellar basement, but couldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened after that. all he knows your blood was quite literally on his hand, knife shaking in his grip.

your babydoll white dress was now stained with violence and scarlet red blood.

the sight should’ve made him sick, but it didn’t. he just stared at you, breathing heavy, and it didn’t strike him until a while later that he had killed you.

rafe cameron had killed the love of his life.

he only panicked when it came to how to dispose your body, take off any evidence that could trace back to him. he was more than willing to dump your body in the woods, let any gators eat at you for supper.

he tossed your body only hours later in the depths of the woods, and it didn’t take long until you were reported missing.

of course, he was questioned first. it was easy for him to play the concerned boyfriend, crying because he also hadn’t heard from you, saying he had been texting and calling you for hours.

your parents sobbed on the news and asking anyone to come forward with any information, that they’ll give up however much money for their child to come home.

rafe just stared numbly at the television screen, a cup of scotch in his hand.

your best friends, the pogues, sobbed for days, and even started a search party for you. rafe made sure to dig you levels down in those woods when the ground was wet enough to dig up, and cover you up.

sarah cameron had a feeling her brother had something to do with your ‘disappearance’ but it was only just a gut intuition, she couldn’t prove it. she always questioned why you got with her brother, always emphasizing how horrible and violent he was, but you would tell her, “you don’t know him like i do; you don’t know how much he loves me, and takes care of me.”

kiara knew how bad rafe was — for god sake, she momentarily went to the academy around the same time he was a senior. she knew he wasn’t destined to be a boyfriend, let alone even in a fucking relationship.

the boys of the group were beyond furious, the three wanting to round up and take ahold of rafe, beat some information out of him. but they knew you wouldn’t want that, and that rafe would easily get the police to arrest them.

however, months passed, and you slowly became a memory to not only the town, but to rafe himself. he went on with his days like nothing occurred, that he didn’t violently take the life of his girlfriend.

you weren’t on his mind anymore, and he didn’t have to worry about you anymore.

or so he thought.

karma and revenge go hand in hand together; they mingle and burst out, they make sure they arrive at the doorstep of the people who deserve it.

rafe always thought getting rid of you would avoid his downfall, but the murder of you was just the beginning of it all.

he slept peacefully like he had done for a while now, with him about to drown into a deep sleep. he rested with his hands laid atop of his stomach, comfortable and at solitude, a female whisper woke him up.

he peeked around, but saw no one. he assumed he was just sleep deprived and imagining things, his eyes closing again for sleep.

“do you feel sick yet?” the voice that sounded like yours came through, more clearer and visible. he shot up, and turned on his bedside lamp.

nothing. no one. not you.

why would he have to feel sick? you were gone, you were no longer a problem.

rafe shook it off, and was able to go back to sleep.

you were angry in the afterlife. you stared at rafe from heaven, trembling with rage and regret. a man you once loved, had acted as if you never existed. you adored him, and he disposed you like garbage.

you just wanted to be his, wanted him to tell you that you were his only; that he loved you as much as you did to him, that he would change and better himself for you.

that the violence would dissipate, and his rough hands would be nurtured with love and softness.

but no. that never came, and never would.

you were taunted by your murder, burning with the need to remind rafe of how sick he was.

your violent lover let you bleed before him, and without tending to your wounds or simply sitting with immediate regret, he soaked in his actions and dismissed it.

why couldn’t he be gentle? was him painting you blue and purple not enough? did he have to go as far as killing his lover to satisfy the disdain and vexation he held for you?

was that enough? was that enough to make you enough?

rafe’s nights slowly turned interrupted and sleepless. your voice was always there, and time to time, he thought he saw you standing in his bedroom, drenched in blood and with tears streaming down your face as you kept asking him, “do you feel sick yet?”

sick. not regretful. fucking sick.

sleep deprivation was catching up to him, making him more mean and angry than usual, more out of control.

the coke wasn’t even helping either, only making everything worse.

he was at barry’s trailer, snorting endless lines of the white powder, trying to shake off the sight of you from last night.

“country club, you good?” barry asked, and rafe didn’t respond. “you don’t seem well, bro.”

“just need this shit, okay?” rafe mumbled, separating another drop of cocaine. “just… just want to sleep, need it.”

barry didn’t want to push him with more questions, minding his own business as the blond haired boy snorted up excessive amounts of lines.

rafe ended falling asleep on his couch, barry mindlessly scrolling on his own phone as he laid down on his bed.

the cold air from the air conditioner ran around in the basement, making it more freezing and chilling than usual.

rafe could smell strawberry perfume, indicating you were around. he looked around, and saw nothing of you.

“where are you!” he screamed. “you can’t scare me, you bitch!”

“i’m not here to scare you,” you talked, rafe spinning around to find you perched in the corner of the basement. you careened closer, the dim light emphasizing on your mangled body.

rafe stared at your stomach, where immense stab wounds laid on it. he swallowed thickly, his breath shaking and jagged.

“do you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe looked up at you. he couldn’t move in this dream, he was paralyzed and a witness to your lacerated body.

nausea and despair washed over rafe, almost consuming him entirely.

you were finally face to face with him, your hair disheveled and bunched, face stained with tears and runny makeup, all for him to look at.

rafe could feel your physical touch, your soft hand grabbing his, and made his palm touch your abdomen. he almost fucking threw up.

you could see it, you could see he was wanting to vomit everywhere. “am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe shivered, forcing his hand to put more pressure on your stomach, blood rushing out onto it. “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe screamed and lurched up, his eyes opening and alarming barry. “woah, what the fuck, rafe!” barry shouted, and rafe breathed rapidly, his heart thumping against his chest, a need to vomit.

rafe brought his face into his hands, trying to shake everything out of his hand.

your face, your touch, your blood — he felt it all. he was being reminded of you, when he didn’t want to.

barry kept asking him what was wrong, why he was crying, if he was okay, but all rafe could focus on was your voice asking, “am i making you feel sick?”

he was no longer immune to his destruction. he was becoming infected by it. you were a disease that he couldn’t treat, a parasite that ate at his brain.

he would never get rid of you — and you would make sure that he never did.

it was month seven without you, and you became a faded name to the outer banks. the only people who lived on to tell your name was your parents, and your best friends. the pogues carved your name into the chateau’s tree, a ceremonial bench placed at the high school.

your body or you weren’t ever discovered, but the police had listed you as deceased. you weren’t a runaway, you were eighteen, and had nothing to runaway for. when you couldn’t be traced anywhere on the grid, the police pronounced you dead, and that was that.

pictures of you and any sort of evidence remained in a cardboard box somewhere in the police station. you were left to rot in every way.

you were tired of being forgotten, but more exhausted that nobody knew that your boyfriend did this, and you probably weren’t going to be the first girl he killed.

rafe cameron needed to know what he did, and you wanted to do everything you could to make him drag himself to the police station, sit down, and say, “i killed her — and i enjoyed every fucking second of it.”

madness was becoming rafe. he was already an insane, depraved fuck before, but the lack of sleep and memories of the murder were catching up to him for good.

dark circles were around his eyes, hair greasy and messy, his body tired. he felt like he was going to snap any second.

he kept drinking, smoking weed and doing coke back to back, surprised that his heart didn’t give out yet.

a random exhaustion toll pushed over him, laying him down on the floor of his bedroom, and his eyes threatened to snap shut.

he didn’t want to sleep, he was afraid to. he was afraid to see you, with your bloody dress and sad face, making him touch your wounds.

rafe didn’t win the fight of sleeping, and he knocked out cold on his bedroom floor.

he wasn’t in the basement, he was in his bedroom, and he could hear your feet padding away to the front of the house, to your car.

oh, he was reliving the night. and he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t get out of the memory — he was facing everything.

he saw you bloody by his doorframe, and you tilted your head. “why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice sounding as if he was trapped in a void.

you only frowned. “so you know.”

like a reflex, rafe hurriedly rushed over to you outside before you could get away, seizing you away, and taking you to the basement.

he pinned you down to the ground, and screamed at you to stop crying, upset and angry you were willing to betray him when he did everything for you.

you were sobbing, but it became echoes and his ears rang, everything around him becoming silent except his own heavy breathing. he grabbed the knife that sat in his pocket, and he could see your eyes widen with fear to the sight of the object.

“rafe!” you screamed in the first stab. he hit you sharp and right in the abdomen.

he held his knife there for a second, like time was freezing him, and he felt a hot breath at the side of his face.

it was you.

“am i making you feel sick?” you asked, and rafe proceeded to stab you as you sobbed. you cried out his name, trying to fight away the knife, promising to be good and for him to stop.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

rafe couldn’t stop, he couldn’t control himself. he kept stabbing you as you screamed. he was a monster, with the inability to suppress his anger or violence.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

another stab.

“am i making you feel sick?”

a part you thought you were making him feel sick because of how mutilated your body was; that the body he was once desired, was now filling him with disgust. you wondered if how butchered you looked, was making him uncomfortable and sick. he didn’t deserve your concern, but it happened anyway. was it making him sick?

rafe wanted to cry, but couldn’t. he was revisiting the person he was in this moment, and could see life vanish from your eyes, death taking you away.

he took one last stab, and held it there like the first one. you kneeled in front of him, looking over at your corpse for a moment before your eyes settled into his raging ones.

he held prolonged eye contact with you as you inched your face close to his, but kept a safe distance. you placed your hand on top of his murdering one, and with a blank face, lastly asking him, “am i making you feel sick?”

rafe broke eye contact with you to look at your deceased body, and realized and remembered this murder. your organs could be nearly seen, blood gushed and poured out everywhere, your body cold and still.

he dropped the knife, and eyed you. “i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, and sighed. “you will revisit this everyday as long as you live,” you said, sniffling. “all i wanted was to be yours, and be good enough, rafe. was i no good?”

he didn’t have an answer, and with that, you got up, staring over at your body. “i want you to know,” you chuckled softly to yourself, “i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did. i forgive you, especially since i’m happier where i’m at.”

“heaven?” rafe asked.

you nodded. “you won’t make it here, but i’ll still hope and wait that you do — because i love you too much to let god be angry with you too.”

“he’s an angry man?”

“he’s angry and unfair,” you responded. “like someone i know. i loved god, i loved you; two men who didn’t view me as much, who don’t deserve for me to believe in them.”

rafe went quiet, and enough time went by for you to disappear for good to let rafe cry, and scream. he cried and sobbed, dry heaving as he vomited everywhere to the sight of you.

he killed you, and as long as he kept it to himself, you would drive him mad and insane with the knowing of it.

rafe cameron confessed to your murder only hours later. he drove himself to the police station, and confessed to every detail, telling sheriff shope where your body was.

they found your maimed body in the exact location where rafe told them it was, your body already decomposing into near bones, eaten by critters and bugs.

the earth was consuming you.

he was hated forever, the town wanted him torched or given the death penalty. it would be a while until he got a trial.

your funeral could be proper with your body in a casket, given a rightful way to be down in the ground, protected and secured by a box stuffed with silk fabric.

you could see your mom cry, and you wish she wouldn’t. your father had to give the prayer at your funeral, your best friends sobbing, and hating themselves for not getting you away from rafe sooner.

however, your death was simply inevitable. if rafe didn’t kill you, your love for him would. he was everything to you.

even when he was murdering you — getting a vile satisfaction from it — you were worried about him, if you and your maimed body was making him feel more nauseous and sick than the actual murder was.

rafe would live with the knowing that you truly loved him, and he took your life every single day that he spent in a prison block cell.

and your ghost would continue to linger and haunt him, never letting him know peace and serenity as he never did to you.

[ubesam]

DOGDAY X READER

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PART 3

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Note from Author: Why are you guys being shy to share your ideas with me for the part 3༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

I just asked a friend of mine for ideas since he's got ideas.(⁠´⁠°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥⁠ω⁠°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥⁠｀⁠) (that truth is I got it from my younger brother. Yeh I'm a loner;-;) And some are from me. And there's also romance and like some... Smooches and dogday is like Uh... Yeh I ain't spoiling it. (⁠⌐⁠■⁠-⁠■⁠)

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Warnings: Bad grammar, bad English, lore?, sensitive lore?, Uh Smooches?

Romance level: 9/10

Lore level: 7/10 or 6/10

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An Unfortunate past

Y/N's past used to be filled with joy and happiness. Till things... Took a turn. Y/N's parents got into a divorce when they were Eleven years old.

Y/n chose to live with their mother, but after she got into a car crash accident. They had no choice but to live with their father but.. (I'm just gonna call you she/her) her father, became an abusive drunk bitch.. Y/n had to get Yelled, Abused and anything that her father does to her. Y/n had to put up with her father for 3 years...

Y/n still love her father despite everything... But her neighbours noticed this and called the police. She was taken to a hospital and she had to be forced to live in a orphanage.

She had no choice. She live in the orphanage with the other orphans, since she was the oldest, the orphans sees her as a mother figure. She cooks, she comforts and anything she does, it convinced the orphans to see her as a mother.

Y/n didn't mind. She loves to take care of them if the caretakers are tired from taking good care of them. The caretakers adores Y/n, the way she helped them is like they are seeing an angel Infront of them.

One day, Y/n told the caretakers that she wanted to apply a job. Of course, they asked why. She explained that she wanted to save money if the time comes for her to leave the orphanage. They were stunned but, they still agree to her wishes. There Y/n applied a job at a Cafe.

She worked hard and do her job everyday. The other workers were stunned to see such a hard working child. Despite the hard past, she still moved on. Because she always remembers what her mother used to say to her. "Even if I'm gone... You still had to move on. No matter how it hurts, I will be by your side." She never forgets her mother's words.

5 years had passed and Y/n was already nineteen. She had to leave the orphanage, she bid farewell to the younger orphans and the caretakers and she had to quit her job and find a new one. Despite the hard goodbyes she will always remember them in her heart.

Y/n kept applying different jobs but none approved her. She kept applying jobs to jobs for 3 years, till. Poppy playtime co. Approved her.

(Well, it's not that bad of a past. Right?)

——————————————————————

The present day

It's been 3 months since the day you started working in playcare. "Well, The last task left is... To clean the areas which were around the office area. I guess it's not that bad." You grabbed a broom and started to sweep the floor near your office. You put your headphones on to listen to lady gaga's song called METAL BAT LOVER (HECK YEAH!).

Unfortunately you started to sing while doing your task. But, you didn't noticed dogday and the kids watching you sweep the floor as you sing With ✨ Elegance and grace ✨ in your voice. Dogday just watched you sing and do your task as he stares at you with love in his eyes 🤭

As your song was about to end, you turned around to see dogday and the kids staring at you.

You stood there in embarrassment as your face began to turn red. "..." You put down your headphones on your neck as you slowly backing away and walk inside your office and slam the door. Dogday was just standing there with the kids confused.

Meanwhile in your office. "WAAH!! WHY ME!? WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME!? GETTING ALL EMBARRASSED BECAUSE I JUST SING ALONG WITH LADY GAGA!? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS EMBARRASSMENT!?" You screamed at yourself but don't worry. Your walls are sound proof 👍

Because of the embarrassing incident. You kept avoiding dogday any chance you got. Dogday noticed this and tried to reassure you but you always run away. Dogday felt kinda hurt but he was determined, to reassure you. Tho, you know it's making dogday feel hurt but you had to because your brain tells you.

One day. You arrived in playcare, and you started walking to your office. And there, as you closed the door and after you came in.

You turned around to see dogday sitting on the couch legs crossed looking at you with a hurt angry looking expression. You stood there quietly and he started talking to you. "Angel..." You shaken a little bit as you replied back. "U-uh y-yes?" You begin to feel that something bad is going to happen.

Dogday stood up from the couch and walked towards you. You slowly moved backward but he ended up pinning you on a wall, he raised your chin up to his face and glared before questioning.

"Why are you avoiding me, angel?" You began to feel hot seeing how close he is to you. (Oh shit. From Cheerful dog to Hot and cooled mafia dog, Sheesh. You ded fr XD)

You stayed silent as you began to get flustered. "..." Dogday wasn't having it. He wanted answers but you were being too shy to answer his question. He sighed knowing you won't answer him, but he already knew how to get you to talk. 😏 (You ready to have a heart attack? Well, don't die btw💀)

He pressed his lips to yours as you were caught off guard by the sudden kiss. He held your arms to the wall and continued kissing you. And to be honest, Dogday was enjoying himself that he forgot about the question. You tried to resist but you failed and kissed him back. When you finally gave in, he slip his tongue in your mouth as both of your tongues met each other. (HEEELPPP I CANT- I CANT😭😭 ITS TOO HOT HELP😭)

Dogday kept kissing you until you broke the kiss and trying to catch your breath as both of you were sweating and feeling hot. You kept breathing for air as for dogday is just watching you with love in his eyes. "S-sorry angel... I.. I couldn't help myself.. " you looked away blushing insanely.

(Yeh... Im gonna..)

A few hours later after the smooching incident.

Both you and dogday avoided eachother after what happened back at the office. Your heart kept raising, thinking about it. but you kinda like the feeling of the kiss and the same for dogday (hehe boi😏👍)

As you were about to leave your office to go home. Dogday was standing in front of your office door staring at you, you tried to walk past him but he pulled you back in the office with him. You were confused till he held your hand a bit tight and pulled you and kissed you again holding your waist as he kissed you passionately. And of course, you returned the kiss.

The kissing was getting intense every second as he held you in his arms and you wrapped your arms around his neck. But you broke the kiss and looked away as you blushed. "C-can I.. go home now?" You were getting flustered but he understands why you needed to leave. "Okay.. but one more thing." He bent down to your ear and whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow~" you blushed as you rushed out of there and he watches you rushes out with a grin.

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CLIFFHANGER>:]

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PART 4?

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Note from Author: Hello? Are you ded? Ah. I murdered someone. You enjoy it? Or no? Well leave a like I guess. Sorry for making it short but, gotta do my science activities so I won't fall behind. Yeh, I don't like school since I'm a loner and refuses to talk to my classes bc yeah. I get pissed easily on them if they annoy me bc I was kinda advanced from my surroundings that I rather work alone. Well, bye. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

[yourtwistedlies]

❝ women’s hearts are lethal weapons ❞

val ! ✩ she/her ✩ minor ✩ jason grace’s gf (REAL) ✩ speak now obsessed ✩ gracie abrams lovebot ✩ summer baby ✩ certified procrastinator ✩ professional listener ✩ pathological people pleaser ✩ general amaya’s #1 fan ✩ fitz vacker defender ✩ honorary grammar police ✩ kpop stan (mostly ggs) ✩ my moots’ cheerleader ✩ under the illusion i can write ✩ somewhat smart ✩ cabin 13 girl ✩

dni: if you are racist, homophobic, xenophobic, support kill all ___, sexist, 18+ only, religiophobic, creepy, toxic, or literally just a jerk, please leave!

byi: i swear sometimes!! i also adore using cute nicknames and pet names for my moots!! if you don’t feel comfortable w/ that or anything else, please let me know <33

moots - wattpad - ao3 - carrd - follower event (coming soon ⁉️) - save the children!

•̩̩͙⁺ the basics ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

call me valerie/val or twisted!!

she/her, straight (heterosexual), minor (18+ only acc’s please do not follow), 18+ do not interact unless i interact first or we are moots (on my list or to be added- i am the judge of who is to be added), cancer (zodiac, but i don’t believe in them), Christian (i post about it sometimes), << summer baby, entp (mbti), 8w7 (enneagram), ambivert, slytherin, cabin 13, shade (guys i swear i wasn’t trying to be edgy or smth with the past two and this 😭😭 i took the official quizzes i promise lmao), swiftie, kpop fan, staying up writing until 4am gives me life, purple is the best color (this is not up to debate, only yellow even comes close), proud notes app writer, CATS > DOGS (occasionally my verdict changes), bunny lover, chronic platonic sofitzer, i’m either hyperactive or extremely tired (there is no in between), people say im smart, but sometimes i feel like the biggest idiot ever lmao, and ofc dex dizznee’s much needed publicist (my favorite role of mine ever)!!!

•̩̩͙⁺ music ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, sza, conan gray, alicia keys, emei, gracie abrams, maisie peters, sabrina carpenter, laufey, queen riri (rihanna), adele, beabadoobee, tiffany day, le sserafim, ive, newjeans, itzy, nmixx, stay-c, aespa, everglow, txt (baby fan), illit ＆ more kpop, lizzy mcalpine, pheobe bridgers, nessa barrett, pinkpantheress, claire rosinkranz, lyn lapid, alessia cara, reneé rapp, mckenna grace, and more!!

as i hope you can tell, i like a lot of music :)

•̩̩͙⁺ books ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

pjo, hoo, (never read toa, but yes, ik what happens in tbm), the rrverse, kotlc, city spies, ss (spy school), alex rider (not done with rr), the academy for the unbreakable arts,

and my many other fandoms i’ve forgotten about (dead magisterium fandom oop-)

i’ll add more fandoms as i remember them lol

•̩̩͙⁺ ships ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

rayllum, clauderry (stfu they’re adorable), percabeth (otp energy), sokeefe, dexiana, tiana (yes i know im the most indecisive bitch ever shut up you toad /jjjj i actually love u platonically), jason grace x ME (/j but i do love him lol), and more!!

•̩̩͙⁺ blogs ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

side blog: @yourtangledpromises

taylor blog: @iknowplxces (guys this is so abandoned + has my old intro 🤮 ignore this js trust - august 15 2024 val)

and perhaps more?? (muahahaha)

•̩̩͙⁺ side note ₊˚. ↴ ·˚༘

if you’d like to be added to my moots list, or talk, please tell me (by wonder girls)!!

if we’re moots we’re actually bffs now (you just don’t notice it yet)

if i don’t respond to your ask/tag/rb/literally anything immediately i am not ignoring you!! i’m just lazy or busy and will do it later <33

im your biggest fan btw

1 Corinthians 16:14

with love,

valerie

[bnuuys-writing]

Twisted Wonderland's Phantom

Hi! I hope you enjoy this! This is the introduction of the crossover of Phantom of The Opera x Twisted Wonderland. Do forgive me if theres any grammar mistakes or repeating themes. I wrote this with a migraine lol but I have been seeing everyone talking about this for months now, and today was the day I have decided to write it now that I have a small break from school + My job rn. 

If you have any questions, or wanna talk headcanons, or just want to shoot me a compliment; feel free to throw it in my inbox!! &lt;3

Chapter One(You are here!), Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Leona's Ending, Malleus' Ending

~Bnuuy out!

Y/N, also known as the prefect of Night Raven College of Magic. AKA The Dorm leader in charge of the lonesome home named The Ramshackle; or in other words, Y/N the Magicless Human. The story has been told many times in rumors or whispers of the magicless human within the prestigious magical all boys school across the crowds of thousands. How they arrived with the other new years and how life started for them within this new world as a cat sitter, as well not being able to use any sort of magic left a mark within the school. Yet, here they stand, with friends from across all the dorms within the school as they have saved them from countless Overblots.

“Guys, I’ve told you many times, I’m just going to the library to go check out a new book. You do not need to follow me!” Y/N exclaimed tirelessly as their compatriots, Ace and Deuce, followed them with smiles on their faces.

“Cmon Y/N! Lighten up! Its the final school year of Night Raven College! Certainly you don't want to be sticking your nose in some boring books! Right Deucy?” Ace chimed out as he nudged his fellow troublemaker who only grunted at the elbow.

“Well… Y/N can do whatever they would like to do-” Another nudge from Ace’s elbow, perhaps a bit more rougher this time caused Deuce to cough a bit. “-But yes! You could be spending time with us at the unbirthday parties! And plus, the alumni are coming today! Riddle, Vil, Leona, all of your friends are coming to visit the school JUST for this week! Don't you want to see them?” Deuce asked, rubbing his side where Ace had nudged a bit too roughly.

True, this was indeed your third year at Night Raven College with no luck in finding your way back home, so this was your only chance to start studying hard to make your footing and to make a stand for once you are officially graduated from the College. Only making it more the wiser to really get your butt in gear of trying to find what you would want to do after this year. Grim would most likely be on his own, having surpassed both Ace and Deuce in study, but you could’ve guessed it was out of pure power instead of intelligence. Deuce would most likely follow his dream of becoming a police officer and making his mother proud, as for Ace…? You shuddered slightly at the thought of Ace becoming more than just a student at Night Raven College, and couldn't bring yourself to think about the possibilities he might have as an adult-prankster.

“I do but guys, you already know what you will or want to be doing outside of Night Raven, and I don't… So, I have to get started on getting my foundation really set up before I am graduated.” Y/N started towards their two friends, Grim just happily purring away on your shoulder as you argued back and forth before shaking your head. “Follow me or not, but I’ll be going into the library to see what I can do for a living as a magicless person within Twisted Wonderland.” Rolling your eyes while opening the large door to the library with a loud creek, the two could only watch as you walked in and the door shut with a loud slam.

Now the library was impressive, many books dating from all around from history to How To’s books. If Crowley knew anything, it was that he was an impressive hoarder of books- although you doubted he knew that- or doubted if he could even read considering all the slacking he's been doing in getting you home. So much for a Gracious Kind Headmage. Humming to yourself as you began to walk down the countless isle of books, memories flashing within your head as you pass down certain isles.

How Floyd Leech chased you down the history isle, begging to squeeze you while you were ushering a poor certain Riddle to run away and hide. Becoming Floyd’s new toy for the next hour until he got bored.

Rook Hunt recommending some certain weird books about how hunting and survival tactics would be important for you if you ever got lost in the wilderness. At least now, you’re able to tie a knot very well as well as start a fire!

Jamil and Kalim studying hard at a table- Well… Let's be honest here, more like Jamil trying to force things into Kalim’s mind who was more busy talking to you and asking about your day than actually studying.

Lastly, Malleus reaching above you to grab a certain book you were wishing to read for fun and for him to hand it to you with such gentleness, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you called to your friend, Tsunatrou so happily and thanked him for reaching the book for you.

Pausing at that isle as you could almost see the figures of your friends whizzing past your eyes like shadows of long forgotten dreams. Shaking your head slightly, you trudged forward only for something hard to hit your head, causing a familiar NYAH! To echo within your ear as your shoulders become lighter. Grim and this large thick book layed on the ground as you rubbed your head in pain, letting a quiet groan in pain as you collected yourself back together.

“Grim, how many times have I said not to drop things on me?” You questioned out accusingly towards your roommate who only let out a small pout, shaking his head furiously at your accusations.

“It wasn't me this time, I assure you Y/N! This book fell off that really top shelf!” Grim pointed his paw up to the very top shelf that you knew you would need a ladder to reach. Sighing, you picked up Grim and held him close to your chest as you looked down at the book accusingly only for your reaction to turn miffed and confused. The words on the book were swirling around in different languages, if you could assume, for only when you reached out to touch it, it changed to your native tongue.

“Phantom of The Opera?” You whispered out, eyebrows raised as you looked at the book with curiosity and disregarding the whines of Grim who suggested that this book was not a book you two should dig into. Grabbing the book and stuffing it into your bag, you quickly left the library with a newfound of urgency to head straight back to the ramshackle and dig into the book with a profound sense of curiosity. 

Crewel did say to you once while you were trying to find a certain book about potionology within his room, of course with no such luck sadly, that books sensed with magic will choose who will read them next. That sentient books were also very dangerous if put into the wrong hands if the book chose who it got transported to next wrong.

“Y/N! MYAH! I don't think we should dig into this book!” Grim shouted out at you as you set him down on the couch within the Ramshackle, having run home quickly to dig your nose into this book. Grim could feel it, but you couldn't. Something was wrong with this book but he couldnt put his paw on it just yet…

“Oh hush Grim! Everything will be okay! I'm magicless, remember? I don't think I can even wield a grimoire!” You stated out as you rushed up the stairs after having placed your keys, phone and wallet down on the counter. Leaving a very concerned Grim behind your tail with ears folded down and a queasy feeling in his stomach that was not akin to premium tuna fish hunger…

“That's what I'm worried about…”  

It wasnt hard to get yourself settled in your room, book in hand, ready to dig into its contents or find out what this Phantom of The Opera is. The Alumni should be here within the next hour so certainly you had a bit of time to at least get started into the book, right?

A small glimmer rippled through the hard cover of the book, as if whispering you to open it, begging you to turn to the first page. As if you were under Jamil’s special magic, you slowly peeled back the cover and turned to the first page only to find it blank, then the next page, following the next page. All of it was blank! Sighing in frustration, you began to flip through the pages until the book forced you to stop on one. On the page, a glimmer rippled through it only for a large red rose to appear, a mask, and a diamond ring. A message soon appeared underneath the items, a prompt;

Choose One.

Huh… This is interesting.

Humming in curiosity, you reached forward to pick up the rose, it was clean of all thorns and had few leafs on it. A delicate specimen that Riddle would’ve shamed you for plucking had it been in his own rose garden. Yet, once your fingers glazed over the stem, your vision began to get heavy and dark, it was getting harder and harder for your eyes to stay open as you fell unconscious in a matter of seconds.

Meanwhile, Grim huffed and puffed downstairs, waiting for you to come out from your room to feed him. An hour had passed and you promised to feed the Alumni and Grim tonight at Heartsabyul! Yet you were still locked away within your room and here he is, waiting on his henchman again! 

“Y/n! Cmon! Im hunnggryyyy!!” Grim shouted out from downstairs, making his way up to your room now. WIth a hard shove into the stubborn old door, he found himself with the book on your bed and with you nowhere in sight. Stunned and alerted at your lack of presence, he let out a loud MYAH! As he booked it downstairs and out the door to the one place he knew he could go to for help.

Heartsabyul.

The party was already booming, the roses had been painted red, everyone seeming to be enjoying tea and the treats that were brought along. At least Riddle seemed to be enjoying himself back in his seat of Queen. Leona wasn't too far down but he seemed uninterested in all the sweets but more of the meats that Savannahclaw had brought in for the party. Of course, Azul had also brought along Floyd and Jade to sell out merchandise of her flourishing outside of NRC business. Jamil and Kalim were off to the corner, Jamil having brought their own food for Kalim to eat. Iida and Ortho were obviously nowhere to be found but some snacks had been going missing here and there. Vil and Rook were pestering Epel who had flourished perfectly, complimenting their Poison Apple. As for Malleus? My, did he receive an invitation? No one can recall.

“GUYS! I NEED HELP!” Grim’s screeching voice ripped through the garden, causing all fun and festivities to stop. Usually when Grim is screaming, a Prefect is certain to follow afterwards. Yet, As Grim bounded over the table to Ace and Deuce with no Prefect in tail, the air got visibly tense.

“Y/N HAS BEEN ABDUCTED AFTER THEY PICKED UP THIS BOOK FROM THE LIBRARY THAT HIT THEM IN THE HEAD! I CANT SMELL OR FIND THEM ANYWHERE!” Grim screeched out as Deuce and Ace were looking at him weirdly. Suddenly, the sunny day within Heartsabyul got cloudier… And Cloudier… To where it looked like it was about to storm.

“Where is the Child of Man?” An all too intimidating presence made itself known. Malleus, with a decorated invitation personally assigned by Y/N stood by the entrance of the garden. Lilia, Silver and Sebek all standing there alongside him. Leona was not impressed by this showcase of purely a tantrum from a now King of Briar Valley. The air was tense, the cake was suddenly no longer sweet and the tea was ice cold.

“Settle down Malleus, I’m sure this is one big prank from Grim to try and scare us all.” Lilia spoke, a small ‘fufu’ following afterwards as he stared out into the large crowd. Leona was the next one to speak, slicing the tense air with a knife.

“I hoped you wouldn't show, yet here you are. And Grim, if you’re pranking us, its a horrible prank and you need to try better next time.” Leona sighed out, rubbing his temples as he stood up. He didn't need to be here anyway, if it weren't for his brother pestering him to go and Cheka kept getting into his business now as being a little older of a cub. If the only one who was taking it seriously was Malleus, Deuce was also included in the worry.

“What do you mean Y/N got abducted, Grim? Where are they?” Deuce asked out urgently as he stared down the grey haired familiar of yours. Grim looked around the room, hoping other than Deuce and Malleus were worried, he could smell the concern rising from Leona but made no rush to comment about it. Vil and Rook were both on edge as they stared down the cat and Riddle’s eyes were boring into the soul of Grim, as if trying to see if he was lying so he could cast his unique magic on him.

“Well! Like I said, there was a book that fell on top of Y/N and I in the library and the words kept moving-” Grim was cut off by Vil who’s eyebrows raised up in alarm.

“A Sentient book? Did they open it?”

“If you would let me finish- yes! They did! Y/N ran up to our room and when I went in there to collect them to come here, the book was open and they were missing!” Grim started out quickly, ears falling to the sides as they thought of their poor henchman, being kidnapped or even worse! Having gone back to their world without saying goodbye to him!

Riddle stood up abruptly out from his hair and sighed. “Let us go then, if Prefect needs our help, we will give it. Just as they have helped us through our overblots.” Though, he could hear some grunts of displeasure around the table.

“Nehhh~... Whats in it for us though?” Floyd’s voice came out, looking bored as ever as he stood near this little popup cart that Azul set up for Jade and him to run. At hearing a price to help Y/N, others began to agree until a flash of lightning hit the tree not too far and trailed after a large boom of thunder. Malleus was not impressed by the company he was in, and quickly proved to change their minds. The answer was clear;

Help Y/N or get Smited Down by the King of Briar Valley.

It's a good thing they of course all loved you very much! 

So here they stand, Grim pointing down to the book accusingly as he sat on Deuce’s shoulders. Leona, Vil, Rook, Riddle, The Tweels, Azul and All of Diasomina stood within your room. All accusingly staring down at your book with mixed faces of confusion, annoyance, and regret. While the book was still open, still had the mask and diamond ring upon its sparkling surface with the sentence below it

Choose One.

“Do you really think Y/N chose one?” Ace would ask out curiously, reaching forward only for his hand to be stopped by Rook who was smiling at him. 

“Mon ami, you wouldn't want to toy with what you don't know, oui?” Rook lightly scolded Ace who only huffed and pulled his hand away from the blonde frenchman. 

“Its sad that I didnt teach more about Sentient books to our little potato. Mayap they would’ve learned that messing with such forms of magic is forbidden- Especially when it hits your head in the library.” Vil would sigh out as he looked over the items. What could a mask and diamond ring have to do with anything? Did Y/N take something? If they did, what was it?

“I do not see the issue with these items. Certainly it must be easy to collect Y/N.” Malleus would state as he would reach forward and grab the mask. Being a man with powerful magic, he didnt instantly get knocked down but it did temper with his magic. Sebek was immediately alerted by this and attempted to grab the mask to protect his master. Silver reached out to do the same and Lilia was there to catch Malleus’ fall before they all were transported in. Their souls became little wisps that were shot straight into the book while the mask stayed floating before crumbing into dust.

“Well, I understand now.” Deuce would state out and shake his head. The last one was the diamond ring. Leona’s hand was first to grab it. 

“There is no way that damn lizard is going to save Y/N. I’ll be the one to do it.” Yet Vil, Rook, Riddle, Azul and the Tweels were grabbing after him. They wanted their share of glory in helps of finding their beloved Prefect. Afterall, the King and the Prince shouldn't have all the glory now, nor all the fun- Could they?

As their souls turned to wisps, they all shot into the book as Ace, Deuce and Grim watched this debacle happen before their very eyes. With a loud bang, they all came to realize that the book had shut itself and a title appeared before the Adeuce gang.

The Phantom of The Opera.

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Bloody Beetle | Part Nine

Summary: the afterlife is quite what you expected it to be

Pairing: Taweret x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: it's the afterlife y'all... you dead...

A/N: please note as much as I did some research into identity disorders, it may not he 100% factual and is supposed to be taken in context of the story... as always spelling and grammar are not my strongest skills so please be kind :)

Part Eight | Series Masterlist

- - - - -

Floating. 

You're floating in dark nothingness. 

Your body weightless. 

Your mind empty. 

Just… nothing…

Then you hear something in the distance. 

A voice. 

A name being called. 

Your name. 

Closer.

Closer.

The voice gets louder, angrier, as it gets closer…

“Y/N!”

— — — — 

Your head slips from your hand as you jump awake from your position, leaning against your work desk. Donna, your boss, stands on the other side of the desk, looking down at you disapprovingly. 

“Is this what we pay you for? Sleeping on the job?” She tuts before continuing to rant at you. You ignore her, looking around the familiar museum inventory room as you try to shake away your sleep. Broken remnants of a realistic feeling dream flash in your mind, like a puzzle missing half the pieces. 

You had been in Egypt, that much is clear. But what were you doing there? Lots of people, unknown faces looking at you with hatred. Scales. A glowing purple light. A crocodile? 

You’ll have to tell Steven about this dream when you see him. Maybe he’ll understand it more than you do. Then you realise, he’s not here. 

“Is Steven not in today?” You ask suddenly, not really caring that you’ve interrupted whatever rant Donna was on. 

“Who’s that?” she looks at you blankly and you laugh. 

“Ste-ven.” You repeat clearly, emphasising each syllable. “Steven Grant? You know, the Egypt guy. Works with me down here like, all the time.”

“I don't know who you're talking about.”

“Steven!” You shout, getting frustrated now. 

“Don't matter how many times you say it!” Donna is getting more annoyed by the second. “There is no Steven that works here.”

“Is this some sort of joke?! I know you don't like him very much but even by your standards this is cruel!” 

“Okay, you need to calm down or soon you won’t be working here either!”.

“I’ll show you, look!” You grab your mobile and open the photos app. To your horror there’s not a single one of Steven to be found. “No! Where is it?! I took one just the other day… he was wearing one of those stupid pharaoh headdress things we sell to the kids. It was right here-”

“Y/N!” Donna snaps, snatching your phone and putting it down on the desk. “I don't know want to hear any more about your imaginary friend, alright? You’re wasting my time as well as your own! So unless you wanna be looking for a new job I suggest you drop it.”

You're about to argue back, but think better of it. Arguing with Donna is like hitting your head against a brick wall. 

“You’re right, sorry..." You say sheepishly, playing along. “I just got confused. I think I might be coming down with something.” 

“It’s alright.” Donna looks at you unconvinced but accepts it anyway. “Forget about it and get back to work.”

“Yes boss.” You say and she walks away, glancing back at you suspiciously before she leaves. 

As soon as she’s gone you pick your mobile back up off the desk to message Steven, but when you search your messages all the ones from him are gone. So you head to the contacts and scroll down to ’S’. Sarah, Shaun, Simon, Stuart… where’s Steven? You scroll up, thinking maybe he’s saved under ‘G’ for Grant. Nothing.

You consider for a moment calling the police. But what would you say? ‘My friend has disappeared, but no one remembers him and I have no evidence he ever existed?’ They’d either laugh at you or lock you up. Maybe you are going crazy… 

No. Steven was real! You remember him. The sound of his laugh as he would tell you a really crap joke he'd heard. The way his eyes would light up when someone asked him a question about Egyptian history. The smell of cologne whenever he bumped into you, which was more often than you’d think. He really was quite clumsy. That was one of the things you loved about him. And one of the things you had in common. 

You decide to go find J.B. Surely he’ll must remember Steven, even if he does always called him ‘Scotty’. If all else fails, you could at least get him to check security cameras. 

But as you step out from behind the desk, you don't notice the large box on the floor and trip over it. You manage to stop yourself falling by clinging on to the desk, but you send the box flying across the room, the contents spilling out everywhere. It's filled with action figures that you sell in the gift shop. You pick one up. 

At first glance you think it’s a mummy but then you notice, it’s a man. A man dressed all in white and wearing a white cape. You take another figure out, almost the same but this one wearing a white suit. 

You dig deeper into the box. It’s full of figures. Some the same as the two you’ve already got. Some with the skull of a bird and holding a crescent moon staff. A lady with dark curly hair. A crocodile... Then you find one that makes your blood run cold. A man, wearing a reddish brown outfit and sandals. He has shoulder length dirty blonde hair, and he’s holding a glowing purple cane. 

“Harrow?” You whisper, the name coming to you out of nowhere.

An image fills your mind; Harrow stood in front of you, plunging a dagger into your stomach.

You look down and realise your clothes are stained red with blood. Your heart and mind starts to race. Something isn’t right. You need to get out of here. 

You run to the door, swing them open and crash straight into someone. You look up and to your surprise see a tall hippopotamus stood smiling wildly down at you. 

You freeze as the two of you stare at each other for a moment. The hippo raises its hand in a waving gesture. 

“Hi!” A female voice. She sounds friendly enough.

“Uh… h-hi?” you stutter, trying to remain calm. 

“You're not screaming.” She says. You're unsure if this is a statement or a question. 

“Am I supposed to be..?”

“No, not at all. I’m just used to people screaming when they first see me. To be fair death can be quite traumatic as it is so I suppose to then come face to face with, well, me… must be quite startling.” She laughs. “You're handling this amazingly. Well done you.”

“Death?” You ask and her face drops.

“You didn’t know?” She says and you shake your head. 

“I thought it was just a bad dream.”

“Oh dear. I am very sorry, but I am afraid you are quite dead. Oh hang on! I have a thing I’m supposed to read…” She pulls a scroll out from her robe and unravels it before beginning to read. “Welcome gentle traveller to the realm of the Duat. I am Tawaret, goddess of women and children and I am here to guide you through your journey to the afterlife.”

“Wait wait wait, if I’m dead then why am I at the museum? Shouldn’t I be, like, in heaven or something?”

“Because the Duat’s true nature is impossible for the human mind to comprehend, you may perceive this realm as something more easily recognisable to you. Was this place special to you?”

You think back through all the happy memories you have here, in this room laughing with Steven.

“Yeah, I suppose it is.” You say with a smile. “But hang on, Donna was here. My boss. She was here earlier having a go at me as usual. How is that possible? Is she dead too?” 

“This place can appear as real as you want it to. Whatever would normally be here will be here, that includes people. But rest assured, she is very much still alive.”

“Then where’s Steven? He was always here with me, but Donna didn’t even know who he was!”

“Steven? Steven Grant?” She asks.

“You know him?” 

“I do. Goodness, how do I explain this?�� She says, mostly to herself. “Steven Grant isn’t real.”

“Of course he is!”

“No dear, uh…” she pauses, thinking over her words. “Do you know a Marc Spector?” 

“Kind of. Not very well, but we’ve met.”

“Right! So… Steven is Marc.”

“I don't understand.” 

“Marc created Steven when he was young to help him escape the trauma he was going through. He may not have even realised that that’s what he did, but whenever life got too much for Marc he would become Steven instead.”

“No hang on, Steven told me that this Marc lives inside him. Are you saying it’s the other way around?” 

“Steven really believed he was who he was. He had no idea the truth.” She watches you for a moment. Watches as your brain ticks over everything and sadly the truth sets in. “I think deep down, somewhere, subconsciously a part of you knew. That’s why he’s not here. The Duat picked up on it.”

She was right. Ever since that night when Marc first spoke to you, a small part of you had wondered. Harrow had tried to tell you, in his own manipulative way. You just didn’t want to believe it; Steven wasn’t real. 

“I wish he was here.” You say sadly. Taweret puts a caring hand on your shoulder. 

“I know dear, this is a lot to take in. But as I said, you are handling this exceedingly well.” She smiles at you, holding out her hand. “Come, let me show you around.”

— — — — 

You follow Tawaret through the doors and to your surprise you're no longer in the museum. Instead you find yourself on a magnificent wooden boat sailing through sand.

“Where are we going?” You ask, staring out at the the amazing blend of purple, blue and gold that makes up the sky. It would take your breath away, if you weren’t already dead. 

“Hopefully to the Field of Reeds.”

“Hopefully?” 

“Yes, there’s just something I have to do…” she places her hand on your chest and pushes, reaching inside you and when she pulls her hand back out she’s holding your heart. You watch in shock as she away from you and places the heart on a scale. She takes a feather and places it on the other side of the scale. The scales swing a few times before settling in a balanced position. 

“Oh goody.” Taweret smiles. “I would have hated to have to throw you overboard.” 

“Excuse me what?”

“If they scales hadn’t balanced, you would not be permitted entry to the Field of Reeds. The dead would have dragged you down into the Duat where you would have remained forever frozen in sand.” She explains and you stare at her in horror. “But the scales are balanced, so no need to dwell on that.” 

You walk to the edge of the boat and look over at the sand below you. You can just about make out the shapes of human figures half buried in the sands, hands desperately reaching for something to grab onto. It sends a shiver down your spine. Taweret moves to stand beside you. 

“All these people had unbalanced scales?” You ask sadly.

“I’m afraid so.” 

“Do the scales ever get it wrong?” 

“That’s not possible.” Taweret says looking at you, she notices you look troubled. “Are you alright?”

“When Harrow judged me with Ammit’s scales, they were unbalanced.”

“Ammit is wrong. She judges based on things that might happen, what someone might do. We judge on what you have done." She turns to face you completely, putting her hands on your shoulder so you have to face her. She looks you in the face. "Believe me when I say, you are a good person Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“Thank you.” You say with teary eyes as the boat continues its journey. 

— — — — 

Eventually you arrive at the most beautiful place you have ever seen.

“Welcome to the Field of Reeds.” 

It’s indescribable. An endless view of golden warmth. Peace like you’ve never felt before. 

“It’s… I don't have the words…” 

“Enjoy it. You belong here.” 

You smile up at her. 

The peace doesn’t last long however, when suddenly you hear a familiar voice calling from a distance behind you. 

“Hey! Hey, hippo lady! You gotta take me back!”

You turn to where the voice is coming from. 

“Not this again.” Taweret sighs.

“Marc?!” You interrupt as you realise who is running toward you. He stops when he notices you. 

“Y/N? What- what are you doing here?” 

“Same as you.” You respond bluntly. “Harrow killed me.”

A range of emotions flash across Marc’s face. Anger and sadness being the mains ones. 

“I’m sorry.” He says simply, before turning his attention back to the hippopotamus next to you. 

“There’s nothing I can do Marc.” Taweret says before he can even ask. “Steven is gone.”

“What?” You look between Taweret and Marc in a panic, but Marc turns away from you. “What do you mean he’s gone?”

“The Duat has him.” Taweret explains. “When Marc died, the Duat split him and Steven into their own separate bodies in order to fairly judge their lives.”

“So Steven is one of those bodies in the sand?” You say in horror and she nods. “We can go back for him though? Right?!”

“It doesn’t work like that. If you leave here you can’t return.” She looks at Marc. “Please, enjoy your peace.”

Marc turns around angrily. 

“Peace?! There is no peace without Steven!”

“You don’t need him anymore Marc. You created Steven when you needed to cope with the worst parts of your life, but that’s over now.” She says, her voice gentle.

“So I get to go on to eternal peace, and he just…” Marc pauses. “Stays lost in the sand forever?”

A tear escapes down your cheek at the thought of Steven being one of those desperate figures you saw in the sand on the way here. Even though you now understand that Steven was only ever a personality created by Marc, he still felt real to you. You only really knew Steven. Your goofy, lovable, Egypt obsessed friend. 

“No.” Marc says suddenly. “I’m not good with that.” 

“Wait!” Taweret calls as Marc begins to walk off. “Think about this!” 

You watch him for a moment before turning to Taweret. She shakes her head at you, warning you. But you ignore her and run to catch up with him.

“What are you gonna do?” You ask. 

“I’m gonna get Steven back.” 

“Then I’m coming too.”

“Are you sure?” He stops and turns to you. It’s still so weird seeing Steven’s face but hearing Marc’s voice. “I can’t guarantee this will go well.” 

“He’d do it for it me.” You say and Marc nods.

The world around you starts to swirl. The golden sky turns dark and the reeds change to sand. Just ahead of you you spot him. Steven. Now one of the figures stuck in the sand. The two of you run over to him. His frozen hand is reaching out in front of him, a look of pain on his face. Marc crouches in front of him. 

“Steven. Looking pretty rough man.” He cries. “I don't know if you can hear me… From the moment you arrived, way back then, we were so young… You saved me. I survived because I knew I wasn’t alone. You were always there, alive, full of hope. I tried to protect that, and I failed. I couldn’t protect you.”

You feel a strange sensation in your feet and look down to see they’ve started to turn to ice, like Steven. Then you notice Marc’s hands have also started to change. 

“You didn’t abandon me.” He looks down at his frozen hand. “You didn’t abandon me. And although that field back there was looking pretty good, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna abandon you.” 

He tried to reach his hand up to hold Steven’s but his arm goes stiff. He looks at you and nods his head to gesture for you to come over. You crouch down beside him, looking into Steven’s terrified eyes.

“Hey Stevo. It’s Y/N. You know, Marc is right. You would never abandon the people you care about. How many times you stayed later than you needed to at work, just so I didn’t have to do inventory on my own.” You laugh as tears stream down your cheeks. “And I know you wouldn’t have left me with Harrow unless you had no choice. Because you are the best person I’ve ever met. You don't believe it, but you are. I should have told you that when we were alive. I should have told you how much you mean to me.” The feeling of your body quickly changing to ice spreading up your legs and arms. You manage to lift your hand to hold Steven’s.

Your body has completely changed now, only your head remains. You look at Marc. He reaches his hand up and places it over yours and Steven’s.

“You are the only real superpower I ever had.” He says to Steven as the ice takes over, freezing his head completely. 

You feel it creeping up the sides of your face. You fix your eyes on Steven and manage to whisper three little words as the last part of you becomes frozen in the sand.

“I love you.” 

— — — — 

The worst thing about being frozen in the Duat wasn’t actually the being frozen, but rather the fact that you were conscious the whole time. Forced to stare into the frozen eyes of the man you love, but unable to move or speak to him. 

All concept of time goes out the window. You have no idea how long you’ve been stuck like this, when suddenly you're aware of a rumbling sound and bright light shining to the side of you. As the light hits the side of your face its like warmth is being restored to your body. The ice melts away and you take a deep breath as life is restored to your body. 

You look over to see the giant ornate gates have opened, light pouring through them. You turn back to look at Steven, the ice is starting to melt from him.

“Steven…” you whisper and he looks at you, taking a big breath of air into his thawed body. 

“Y/N…” he smiles and hugs you before turning to a now unfrozen Marc. “Marc!” 

“Steven!” He says happily.

“You came back? What the hell’s wrong with you?!” Steven says, smiling as he helps Marc stand.

“Well I did a whole little speech there.” 

“It wasn’t that little.” Steven laughs, pulling Marc in for a hug. He turns to you, holding out his hand to help you stand. “I heard yours too.”

“I meant every word.” You say sincerely, looking into his eyes and he smiles as he gently places a hand on your cheek. 

“I love you too.” He whispers.

“Uh, guys.” Marc says from beside you. “As lovely as this moment is… we have a problem.”

You both turn to see what Marc is looking at. A giant sandstorm wave heading straight towards you. 

“Oh bollocks!” Steven shouts. “Come on, lets go!”

The three of you start to run, Marc struggling as his leg seems to be injured. Steven hooks one of Marc’s arms over his shoulder and you do the same on the other side.

“I’m slowing us down, just go!” Marc shouts.

“We’re not leaving you!” You reply, almost dragging him now. 

“Coming through!” You hear and turn around to see Taweret on her ship sailing towards you. “Osiris you old softie!” She calls as she crashes through the wave, slowing it down to give you time. “Now run!!” She shouts. 

“Hippo!!” Steven shouts, waving his hands in the air before Marc grabs him and pulls you all towards the gates. You run with all the strength you can muster and finally make it through the gates. 

— — — — 

“Where am I?” You ask aloud, glancing at the bright white nothingness around you. “Steven? Marc? Anyone?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” A voice calls from everywhere at once.

“Hello?” You respond. 

“I am Osiris, god of the underworld.”

Part Ten

Taglist :  @sleepylunarwolf / @ahookedheroespureheart / @sleepyamaya / @spicydonut25 / @kult6 / @uncle-eggy / @malaanii/ @toracainz / @pinkiestwinkie / @galacticstxrdust / @mateihavenoidea / @xmariakx / @oscarissac2099 / @whycantwebefriendz / @parkeepingparker

(if you want to be added to the taglist please let me know!)

[lvlyghost]

Salvation

Pairings: John Price x F!Reader

Summary: after a few months since his last visit, john finally gets the chance to see the girl.

Word Count: 1.7k

tw: fluff, angst, allusion to human trafficking, NCA, terrified girls. nothing too descriptive. bad english and poor grammar as usual. if i missed anything just lmk💕

A/N: so this took a little longer since it was supposed to come out during the weekend. i was planning on making it longer but didn't, maybe a second part could happen🐸 anyway, i love price✨🩵!

Masterlist✨ | Part 2

She hears it while cooking her homemade cherry pie. As far as she recalls, no one was supposed to come today. No. Officer Davis came that morning at eight o'clock like he always did. He had handed her some new books she's been wanting to read for a few months now and was kind enough to buy for her.

Since she wasn't allowed to give her address to anyone,and let alone type it on some random website, she was always asking officer Davis for favors. He was truly an amazing man. Although, even if they ever let her do such thing, giver her some freedom, who would want to go to the house in the middle of the forest to drop off a package?

Freedom. She scoffs. Such a strange word.

Making her way out of the room she walks towards the front door, but not before taking the remote that was given to her by the NCA. All it takes is pressing the red button twice and she'll have the whole police in her doorway. She stands behind the white wooden door, hesitating. Her heart begins to race, feeling it beat against her ribcage.

What if someone had finally found her location?

I can't go back there.

Frozen in her place, hand barely touching the doorknob and tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

"It's me, sweetheart." A deep voice comes from the other side. "It's okay. I'm sorry for not coming sooner."

John.

She mumbles his name, like a prayer, and then opens the door.

He stands there, tall and broad. The same baby blues that saved her a year ago looking back at her. The lines on his forehead soften at the mere sight of the girl. He's wearing that black beanie that once sat atop of her head when the winter had begun that first time he visited her here.

The only other one that knew where to find her. Because she knew, they all knew, he'd do anything for her.

-

John can hear the river outside the old house. The rustling of leaves moving against the wind, soon it'll be dark. The humid weather making his green shirt stick to his skin layered with sweat. He inhales deeply. This mission. This fucking mission has been going far too long. But everything they found les the task force to this very place. He goes room by room, entering with his gun aiming ahead and the safety off. Always.

Despite not having execute authority he wanted nothing more than to put several bullets in their bodies. Whomever they were.

A creak echoes on the second floor so he rushes upstairs stealthily. The place above doesn't look much better that the bottom part of the house. There's a weird smell in the air. Like blood and death.

After checking the first room, the bathroom and all the cabinets just in case he sighs.

"Only got one room left to check. Anything out there?" He waits for an answer, in the middle of the bedroom. The mattress was torn and dirty. He thinks of all the atrocities that must've taken place there.

"Negative, Captain. Got you on my sight just in case." Ghost's monotone voice interrupts the eerie silence engulfing his surroundings.

"Copy."

The radio dies and John walks to the next door across the hallway. Except it's locked.

Of course.

"Last door locked. I'm going in. Gaz, Soap you're in position?" He asks

"Aye sir. Both ready."

Next thing that happens is a bullet. He shoots the doorknob and the door bursts open with a loud sound of his firearm.

And screams.

Terrified screams and cries from... girls. At least seven of them. Price swallows hard, his eyes scanning the room when they land on the girl shielding a younger one. She's terrified, shaking, yet still looks him in the eye imploring to be saved.

-

She's hugging him in an instant, almost making him stumble back on his steps, but embraces her body nevertheless.

"What took you so long?" She asks, her face resting on his hard chest. Price can feel the softness of her skin against his calloused hands.

"Special Ops." She smells like strawberry and caramels. Pulling away so he can look her in the eyes. "How're you doin' love?"

Her heart skips a beat. Never gets tired of hearing Price calling her that.

"Come in and I'll tell you."

Taking his hand she guides him to the kitchen where the pie is almost finished. John drops his duffel bag on the wooden floor, contemplating her small form moving around effortlessly.

"I got some new books this morning. Turns out I've been missing a lot. Davis was kind enough to bring them since... you know." She shrugs.

"They're still not letting you out?" He asks with a serious tone.

"Nah. Might be dangerous." Taking out the pie from the oven she places it on the counter between the two. Price doesn't say anything for a moment, merely looking at her, pondering. "The boys are alright?"

"Yeah." He nods,"Had to drag one or two out of a burning building but that's not new."

She laughs softly, taking a seat, motioning for him to do the same. He obliges.

"How long do you think they'll keep me here, John?" It's a genuine question. It's only been a few months. A year, almost.

"Love..." he sighs. "It's complicated. I don't know much."

"Yeah but, but once they're all captured..." she stammered.

Price could never say he understands what she's going through. What she endured was beyond him. Whenever he thought of it it just made him want burn the fucking bastards. All of them.

"I promise you this. Once it's safe for you I'll personally come and give you the news. And we'll go wherever you desire, yeah?" Although it's not entirely what she wanted, she could wait a little bit longer. John had never let her down. He saved her and in all honesty she'd trust him with her life. "I'll tell you what." He stands up, making the small kitchen look even smaller with his tall form. "Have you heard about the town fair?"

Her eyes light up.

"No... is, is that..."

"Let's go." She doesn't move. "Why don't you go get ready."

"John, I'm not supposed to leave the house you know that, I mean I want to, but... you said..." She's mortified, yet excited. A breath of fresh air. That's what that man meant for her. No one ever cared about her like he did.

"I've got contacts, love. I don't need their permission. For all that matters you're safer with me. Come on, out we go." He points to the front door. "I'm a patient man but don't keep me waiting for too long eh."

-

He was right.

It was a sight to behold.

John watches her eating the snack he got for her. She loved sweets so much therefore he couldn't let this opportunity pass. When was the last time she got to experience something like this? Sometimes so simple.

Something so mundane.

Her eyes are glimmering whenever she looks at the different attractions at the fair. John takes a long drink from his beer bottle. Right hand finding her lower back whenever she's about to bump into some other person when she's distracted.

"You like it huh?" She looks at him confused. He points the stuffed otter in her left hand. A smile crossed her features.

"I do. And I still don't know how you did it... I mean, I guess being in the military does help when you try to shoot a moving horse toy at the fair to win something." She laughs, embarrassed about what she just said. She thinks she sounds stupid, almost making her want to hit her head against the nearest tree.

He smiles, the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes more prominent than the last time she'd seen him.

"I guess it does, love." He agrees wholeheartedly.

"How long are you going to stay?"

Price looks down at her when she stops before the ferris wheel. The wind blows her hair swiftly. What was that in the air? Her perfume?

"For as long as I can, dear." He takes a strand of hair in his hand, and gently put it behind her ear.

There she is.

"John..." she breathes. "I feel so lonely when you're gone." The grip on the stuffed animal tightens. "I've no one. If it wasn't for you..."

"No." He gently reprimands her. "Don't say another word. With or without me you'll be fine, love."

"What if I don't want to be fine when you're not around?" He's silent, yet his mind is so loud. "You saved me, John." She states. "Any other person would just continue with their lives. You were just doing your job. Another one in the endless missions you're assigned." Swallowing, she asks: "Why are you still here? Why do you keep coming back?"

He doesn't answer the question right away, instead looks over her head, lost in his own thoughts as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. He then clears his throat and looks back at her, who's waiting with wide eyes and lips slightly parted. She was right. Any other day John would've turned page. He would sure remember, after all these are stories that will stick with him until his last day. What made this mission different?

"I think you know bloody well why."

-

Price helps her sit inside the helicopter to get medical attention. Feeling her weak body trembling even under the black blanket she was tightly wrapped in. He had carried her body all the way outside from that house when she collapsed. The adrenaline running through her system disappearing when she realized they were being rescued at last.

Simon had side eyed his Captain when he didn't let anyone take the girl from him. Why her? He couldn't say. So he went away and led one of the other girls out of there instead with Soap's help.

"There's nothing to be afraid anymore, kid." He reassured her, voice soft trying not to startle her more than she already was. "We got you. All of you."

Her big eyes once terrified and filled with tears of despair finally saw the light at the end. It was him. What she always prayed for. Salvation.

It was staring back at her.

[alohajun]

♡ PROMISE IT WON'T HURT — YANG JUNGWON

jungwon x reader | wc : 0.3k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, vampire au, mention(s) of blood | loki's lines : reposting! this seemed like a cool idea in my head, hope i wrote it just as nicely hehe

“citizens are advised to remain indoors as the count of victims in the serial murders increased drastically within the last two days.”

you shuddered as you listened to the news, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you nestled on the sofa.

“are you cold, jagi?” jungwon came with your drinks, placing the mugs on the table before sitting next to you, extending his arms as he invited you to his embrace. “what are we watching?” he inquired, turning his head towards the news broadcast that was going on.

you pouted, looking between your boyfriend and the television. “do you think they’ll catch the culprit soon? so many people are dying just like that. i wonder what their families must be feeling,” you thought, snuggling closer to jungwon as he wrapped his arms around you.

“well, the police seem to be working hard.” he nodded, caressing your face with his hand as he watched the police officers give their statements. “the victims don’t have any family, jagi. besides, even if they did, they don’t deserve to live happily after everything they’ve done.”

“hm?” you tilted your head, looking at your boyfriend confusedly. “they mentioned nothing about the victims not having families, though. how do you know?”

jungwon’s grip around your waist tightened, holding you closer to keep you in place.

he watched you in amusement as you squirmed in his grasp, barely affecting him as you kept thrashing around to save yourself.

“wonie, what are you–” your words fizzled out as you noticed the way his eyes flashed, swiftly changing from a chocolate brown to a fiery red. “y-your eyes.” the male easily pushed you against the sofa, gripping your hands to block your movements as he towered over you.

he smirked, making your breath hitch upon seeing the excessively sharp teeth on display. “you talk too much, you know?” his fingers trailing over your face. “will you let me take a bite? i promise it won’t hurt.” he leant in, his fangs nearing your neck.

your gaze met jungwon’s, absolute fear evident in them as you looked at him. he tilted his head, watching you closely before you broke into a fit of giggles, your eyes glowing a similar shade of crimson.

“gosh, that’s so cringey. is that what you tell everyone before you bite them?”

taglist: @xiaosimp3 @wccycc @nanalovesyouuu @enhacolor @heejojo @jaesvelvet @koishua @nyfwyeonjun @aleinasstuff @mushtato @kpoprhia @woooooooosh8 @theoskies @yunho-leeknow @candililac @yogurteume @one16core @soobin-chois @wonluvrbot @acciomylove @idkwatodoanymore @ily-cuz-i @acaiasahi @bobariki @teuranghae

ENHYPEN MASTERLIST

© 2023 ALOHAJUN | PLEASE REFRAIN FROM COPYING OR REPOSTING MY WORK WITHIN OR OUTSIDE THIS SITE

[pengold]

Okay, so this is the anon that pointed out the gloria name (if its okay i just wanna refer to myself as "💚 anon")

I wanted to ask if you are comfortable with us asking questions regarding the AU? Like- The whole thing with Steven having "nothing to do" with Nacha's husband's death. Especially since said husband was his father's right hand man- does his father know? I'd imagine if he did, it was because of some double crossing or something, but then why would Nacha still be under protection? Would she ever find out? Would his father be upset if he didn't know and found out?

Thats just the first thing i wanted to ask. There's some thoughts/questions I've been thinking about regarding Angus, Izaack, Doppelgangers, and the Doctor. As i said. Your AU is tickling my brain in such good ways, but i want to know if asking is okay

And also, thank you so much for the Angus love- i feel the characters are so underrated compared to the milkman (still love him tho)

Hello 💚 anon and yes you can tots ask questions about the Au (and that goes for everybody)!! Angus and the Selenne are my 2 favs and I love that people like me drawing the “less” popular characters!

As to Steven and the situation with Nacha’s husband: he died in a police sting and Rudboys Sr. thinks there is a rat in his organization. He doesn’t know that it was Steven as he was the one that told the org what went down and he barely made it out. So Steven was put on task of finding the mole while hiding himself. He has seen that he has fooled his dad so he is seeing how he could take over sooner.

He is a naughty boy who is trying to get both the girl and the job.

This is were Izaack comes in, he knows something more went down at that sting and is trying to investigate it. He was best friends with Nacha’s husband when they were younger. Even though they went separate ways and didn’t agree with each others career choices, they kept an eye on each other.

So plan is Steven makes his move on Rudboys Sr., ppl think he does but Nacha saves him and brings him to Dr Afton. Nacha was starting to like Steven, thought him a gentleman and was there for her after her husband’s death. It’s her daughter who doesn’t like him that makes her keep a friendly distance from him. She stumbles upon the confrontation between the Rudboys and learns what happens. She goes to Izaack with the info cuz her husband always talked about him.

That’s all I’ll say on this for now but loving the questions makes me think more about it!!

((Also pls excuse and spelling and grammar errors. English is my only language and I’m bad at it))

[bananabread-nana]

Part 1

Spiderman!EthanLandry x Enchantress!OC

Slow burn, Violence, suggestive(eventually?)

past/flashbacks

A/N: I haven’t written anything in FOREVER so please bare with me. Ignore any punctuation or grammar mistakes 😭 comment if you want to be on the taglist and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy 🤸🏻‍♀️

———————————————————————————

An ear-piercing scream ripped through the poor woman’s throat, adding to the burn that only got worse with every breath she took. She couldn’t run much longer the only thing keeping her going was the sound of the man’s heavy footsteps behind her. Taunting her. Getting closer to her. Closing her eyes bracing for impact..

THUD

The confused woman opened her eyes just to catch a glimpse of the alluring emerald haze that disappeared just as fast as it appeared revealing the man that had spent the last two hours tormenting her, robbing her of her belongings and dignity, lying in a pool of his own blood.

———————————————————————————

Loud police sirens roared through the streets of New York interrupting his thoughts bringing him back to reality. Quickly packing his things Ethan bolted out of Sam and Tara’s shared dorm which sparked some confusion and concern within the group for a split second before it faded away due to persistence of this exact situation. As far as they know they just think his control-freak of a dad, Sheriff Bailey is blabbing at him to get home.

In reality, he got straight to work putting on his vibrant red and blue onesie he calls his suit as soon as he turned the corner.

TWIP TWIP

Swinging from building to building with the flick of his wrist all while desperately searching for the crime scene. His attention was quickly drawn by an ear-piercing scream that sent a chill down his spine. Now heading towards the general direction of the call for help, he began articulating his plan. It was just another night as the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, web up a greedy criminal, occasionally giving them a taste of his enhanced strength, and leave. There was something about this particular moment that gave him an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Nervous?

Scared?

No, never?

I’m Spiderman, THEY’RE scared of ME not the other way around

The boy tried so desperately to ease his nerves, he had never felt nervous let alone afraid of putting himself in danger but there’s a first for everything.. right?

The scene was quiet, too quiet.. he swore this was where the woman had screamed from, his enhanced hearing never failed him. Right?

Spiderman?

His head nearly snapped by the way his head whipped towards the direction of the voice. He couldn’t believe what he saw, a man laying face down drowning in a pool of his own blood and a woman in the corner with a mix of multiple emotions plastered on her pale face. Before the spider-boy could ask any questions, the woman stared blurting out what had happened prior to his arrival. She spoke too fast and her shaky voice made it hard to decipher her words but one thing stuck out..

..THEN I saw a flash of green and before I knew it the guy was dead! That person or thing or whatever it was SAVED ME! Do you know who it is? Or what?…

She continued to spew unanswerable questions but he wasn’t listening because he was deep in thought..

Who? What? How?

———————————————————————————

Reblogs are greatly appreciated 🫶🏼

Taglist: @tuktuk34 @netey6m

Comment if you want to be added

[goosewriting]

I've been meaning to request a scenario where Raph has to help a yokai reader escape the hidden city's cops after they stole an important jewel. This would be where the 29 blue prompt takes place (to specify Raph would be the one to say "you should not like to be wanted by the police!"). After the situation was resolved, the reader admits they stole the jewel cuz they wanted to ask him out with it and he accepts 🥹 could i also ask for the 28 blue prompt? (Reader: you won't regret it! Raph, playfully: already am)

Partners in crime (rottmnt Raph x reader)

prompt 29: “I like being wanted.” “You should NOT like being wanted by the police!” prompt 28: “You wont regret it!” “Already am.”

summary: Raph helps reader steal a jewel; turns out it was a gift for him.

relationship: Rise!Raph x GN reader

warnings: crimes being committed lol, fluff!

word count: 1.1k

A/N: sorry there isn’t really anything specifically making the reader a yokai; i didn’t find a good way to incorporate it :’v it can be still read as one! hope you like it^^

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Raph questioned all his life decisions as he was running down the Hidden City streets. He could hear the cops’ voices behind him, yelling at him to stop, and he remembered how he was already arrested once here (although it had been a misunderstanding, but still). He did not need this again. Next to him you ran as well, as fast as you could, trying to stabilise the weight of your loot in your backpack that swayed up and down with each step you took. 

You heard the voices behind you call out one more time as you cut a corner, Raph almost losing his footing at the tight turn. All of a sudden you’re pulled rather forcefully into a narrow and dark alley. Raph had essentially grabbed you mid-run and pulled you in there with him. You both tried to calm your panting, holding your breaths as you heard several steps getting closer. 

There was a large, partially torn piece of fabric that had probably been an awning at a better point in its life, and Raph quickly pulled it up to hide you from your pursuers. It did not cover as much as expected though, so he pressed you a little bit tighter against the wall behind you. Luckily you had had half the mind to slip off your backpack as you were pulled into the alley or your precious loot would be digging into your back right now. You looked up at Raph’s face, which was directed towards the street listening out for the passing cops, and that’s when you realised how close he was. His chest pressed into yours, the brick wall behind you stopping you from getting more distance between you and the turtle. 

You felt heat starting to rise to your cheeks, but you quickly pushed your feelings back down. This was not time for such thoughts. You were about to be in real trouble if you messed up now. So you decided to ignore the warmth radiating off him, as well as his pounding heart, which you could feel beat against your own. You assumed it was because of the earlier sprint. 

After a moment in silence, the cops having long gone in the wrong direction, Raph let out a deep sigh and separated himself from you, mumbling an apology for suddenly pulling you away like that. You were about to tell him it was no big deal, since he essentially saved you, but his eyes shot up to meet yours, his brows furrowed in worry (and maybe anger. Justified anger, really).

“What were you thinking?!” he asked, running his hands over his face with a groan. “When you asked me if I wanted to be ‘partners in crime’ with you, I thought you meant you’d tell me a secret or something, not that you’d actually commit a crime!”

I know he’s scolding me but why does he still look so cute?, you asked yourself. Unable to stop yourself, you decided to tease him.

“Tee hee~” was all you responded to his disgruntled question, with a playful wink and bringing your hand before your mouth.

“Don’t tee hee me!” Raph looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it for the moment. Instead he sighed again, gesturing to your backpack. “What is it anyways?”

It’s for you, but you can’t know that yet. You pulled your lips into a straight line and looked away from him.

“Oh, so you’re not gonna tell me?” 

At first you feared he’d be mad or insist, but then he actually chuckled with a shake of his head, visibly relaxing now for some reason. 

“Well, it better be worth being wanted people for” Raph said with a playful smile, and looked back towards the street to make sure you were safe to leave your hiding spot. 

“I like being wanted” you mused, and his eyes shot back to yours in mock exasperation. 

“You should not like being wanted by the police!”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh at that, and gestured towards the exit of the alley with your chin.

“C’mon, let’s get going.”

– – –

After making your way out of the Hidden City back to the turtle lair, you excused yourself and disappeared for the rest of the day. Before you left, Raph had asked you to at least tell him what it was he helped you steal, but you stood your ground and gave him only vague or joking answers. So he gave up.

He did not expect to see you again that evening, but there you were. You had changed clothes into something nicer, and were looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 

When you got Raph alone, you told him you’d finally show him what you stole and handed him a little box. He took it delicately and opened it to reveal a necklace with a stone pendant. No, scratch that, it wasn’t a stone, it was a jewel. Picking it up from the box, he held the gem against the light, mesmerised by how the colours refracted through it.

As he was about to ask if all the trouble was worth it for a necklace, you pulled out a thin chain from under your own shirt, showcasing the pendant against your knuckles: it was the same jewel.

“I made matching necklaces for us” you confessed. The nervousness of the whole day, knowing this moment would eventually come, made your body tremble slightly in anticipation. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, and looked up to him with flushed cheeks. “Because I really like you. Will… will you be my boyfriend?”

Starting from his neck upwards, Raph’s face turned the colour of his bandana. He blinked a couple of times, trying to process what had just happened. Out of all the things you could have said, that was not what he was expecting. But it certainly was a very pleasant surprise, since he felt the same way!

“Yes!” he said, looking at you with soft eyes, but then he raised a warning eyebrow at you. “But you don’t have to steal anything to impress me.”

“You don’t like it?” you asked, unsure.

“No, I love it!” he responded and immediately slipped the necklace over his head. “But please, no more crimes?”

“Hmm” you tapped your chin as if you had to think about it. “I’ll try my best.” And with that you leaned forward and pecked his cheek.

“You won’t regret it!” you said with a grin.

“Already am” Raph said playfully and brought you in for a hug.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @xnorthstar3x

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | ix

Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

masterlist | taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader

Word Count: 21k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, morning sex, oral (m!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, dom/sub, praise, degradation, pet names, name calling, multiple orgasm, simultaneous orgasm, nipple play, biting, brief mention of ownership and free use kink, abusive/toxic romantic relationships, mental illness/heavy descriptions/behaviour of borderline personality disorder, mentions of previous OD, heavy descriptions of addictions/addicts/addict behavior, heavy mentions of drug use (stimulants/narcotics), heavy mentions of relapsing, trauma bonds, descriptions of toxic/abusive parents, death of family members, PTSD/CPTSD behaviors/reactions/explanations, dissociation, trauma, triggered trauma responses, mentions of death/dying, absent parents, death of a parent, parents with active addictions, missing persons, police stations/reports, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, crying, mentions of blood/bleeding, mentions of self harm/self destructive behaviors, mentions of cheating, mentions of AA/NA, NA meetings, fighting, yelling, drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, sorry if I miss any 🤍

As always, please feel free to reach out to me if you need an ear, and know that you are not alone in whatever troubles you are facing. I’ve also included a list of helplines and resources for anyone who may be in need of them. I love you all so dearly.

Emergency substance abuse hotline (US): 1-800-662-HELP (4357).

Canadian Mental Health and Addictions Phone Line: 1-833-553-6983 | NEW: 9-8-8 for immediate crisis intervention

Virtual NA meetings and support (worldwide)

Canada’s complete comprehensive list of addiction helplines, inpatient/outpatient programs, and family support per province | UNITED STATES

Canada’s comprehensive list of domestic and family violence helplines and resources | UNITED STATES HOTLINE

Canada’s guide to mental health help and crisis intervention | UNITED STATES

If you are struggling with addiction or know someone who is, remember to inquire about Nalaxone kits at your nearest pharmacy, as many in Canada are active participants of the program. At participating locations and clinics, Naloxone kits are free of charge and accessible without a prescription or healthcare card. It is a fantastic and life saving tool to have on hand while waiting for EMS. There is also free online courses for Naloxone training to anyone who is interested.

Remember, no matter what is portrayed in fiction or media, the safest course of action for anyone suffering from an overdose (accidental or intentional) is to call 911.

If you are struggling with an abusive relationship or domestic violence, know and understand that you are not alone. You are heard, you are seen, and you are loved. We believe you, and we hear you.

Hi everyone 🤍 I love you all. A little bit of happiness after the rain. Thanks for sticking with me through this story. It means more to me than you know. As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

And a very special thank you to @jakeyt. You have no idea how thankful I am for you and everything you do for me 🤍

July 26th, 2022 - 2:13 PM

The blanket below you was soft against your bare legs, the smell of the wildflowers potent around your head as the wind tousled the long grass behind you. The lake in front of you had small ripples over the surface, the blue water becoming more tempting the longer the sun beat down on the top of your head. Daniel was beside you, shirtless and only in his still-damp swim trunks from his earlier escapades. Ever so gently, the sweet melody of a Neil Young song reached your ears over the sound of nature surrounding you. The birds chirping in the sky rang like they were singing along.

The world was evil most of the time, but right now you could not refute the fact that it was the most beautiful it had ever been.

Your skin was warm, pink even despite the sunscreen slathered on it. The taste of strawberries on the tip of your tongue, about to be washed down with a grape picked from the container beside your leg. Danny had insisted on packing lunch before you left, firm on the fact that your healing process would only continue if you took the extra time to take care of yourself.

You had never been particularly good at doing that, but since he came around, he did an awful good job at picking up your slack.

Leaving when the morning chill was still in the air, you digested breakfast as you drove down the highway, hand in hand as the world passed you by. Still trying to process all that happened in the past few days, you had committed to finding happiness, even if you feared it was fleeting. Realizing that you needn’t look any further so long as he was beside you, it made the journey much less treacherous.

He hadn’t let you leave his sight since the day he thought he would lose you for good, and you couldn’t find a single complaint about the arrangement. The longer you spent with him, the more you understood that it was the only place in the entire world that you truly wanted to be.

Tired of missing out on the sun and laying in bed, you suggested going to the beach, which was something you never cared much for in the past. After an entire morning and early afternoon of sandy skin and uncomfortable heat, you knew exactly why you had made the sudden switch. Seeing Daniel, dripping wet with his hair stuck to his skin, the sun beating down on him and framing him in the most ethereal way, made the entire experience that much better.

“What are you thinking about?” Danny asked, the vibration of the strings slowing to a stop. As a person who typically hated disruption, you could not deny that the sound of his voice was a forever welcome distraction.

“I d’know.” You shrugged, feeling your skin sting as the sunburn continued to worsen. Still, you did not dare disrupt the serenity that you found yourself in, knowing that any ailment was worth an extra moment alone with him. “You, I guess.” You confessed, growing more comfortable with honesty and openness the more the days dragged on.

“What about me?” You noticed the corner of his lips pull upward, the crinkles by his eyes showing the longer he thought of it. Occupying your mind was his most favorite thing, and hearing about it only made it better.

“God, you’re pushy.” You chuckled, placing the container of grapes back on the blanket below as you reached into the neon yellow bag beside it, the plastic crinkling as you pulled out a wrapped candy. “Just… us. How peaceful this is.” Your words were limited, but the impact was not. His heart softened, the teasing tone dropping from his features in an instant. Vulnerability was steadily increasing, and he could tell that you were trusting him more by the minute.

That, he could not properly express his thankfulness for.

“You know, you never really told me why you always have these.” Danny said, noting the bag you were rummaging through. “Never really questioned it either, I guess.” He added, realizing he was at fault just the same.

That was something you loved most about him: his lack of hesitation to call himself out.

Sometimes, he did so when no fault was his, which frustrated you. Still, you couldn’t help but appreciate a man who was willing to confess to his own mistakes, rather than force them on you to evade the blame.

“Never woulda’ told you anyway.” You chuckled, placing the tarte candy against your tongue. Closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling, you felt the stress roll from your shoulders, allowing for a single second of relief. “Learned the trick a long time ago… can’t really remember how, but it did stick with me. Sometimes, when I’m craving something really badly, the thought gets stuck in my head… consumes me and everything, and I can’t move on from it. Can show up out of nowhere, even when I’m having a great day and I’m happy. Our brains are weird, and they work in weird ways. When I eat one of these—“ you pointed to the bag, swishing the now sweet candy around your mouth. “It like… completely rewires things up there. Least for a few seconds, anyway.”

“I see.” He hummed, studying you as you spoke. Typically, you wanted to shy away when someone’s eyes were on you for too long, but when it was him staring, you never wanted him to look away.

“Gives me a chance to think about it logically, instead of irrationally. When you want something that bad, the choice doesn’t really seem like it’s a choice at all. Sometimes, it feels like I’m going to die if I don’t use. I know that’s not true, but it really does feel like that. When I don’t have these, or something to distract myself with, it’s a bit… dangerous, I guess. Only realize it’s wrong after I made the mistake.”

“I don’t get it, but I can understand what you mean.” He replied. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

“What?” You laughed, your eyes darting from him to the sparkling surface of the lake, suddenly finding his attention overwhelming as the dreaded phrase left his lips. You hated anyone being proud of you for a few reasons, but the main one was the pressure that came along with it. When there’s no expectations, there’s nobody to let down. Letting him down had become one of your biggest fears, and him expressing his prideful feelings only made it worse.

“You don’t see how hard you’re trying, and that’s okay. I’m just glad I’m here to see it for you, now.” He continued, absentmindedly plucking at the strings again. “This week has been rough, and I know it’s taking a toll on you, but you just keep getting up and trying again. You don’t need to be hard on yourself for falling, Utah, s’long as you don’t stop trying to get up. Wish you could see it like I do.” There were plenty of things Danny wished you could see from his perspective, but being oblivious to your own triumphs had always been your biggest fault. Or, one of, at least.

Most of the time, it felt impossible to pat yourself on the back for anything. You never felt like you were doing anything right, that you were ever worthy of celebrating. In your head, it could always be better, you could always do better, and your past mistakes left you with little patience or kindness for yourself. You believed until you settled that score, until you made up for all of the bad, none of the good mattered.

It was a relentless pursuit for something you knew would never truly change. It did not matter how happy you were, how much charity and help you dished out, if you stayed sober for the rest of your life; your self worth would always be equated to the terrible person you had been so long ago, and the only thing that could alter that was fixing your perception of yourself, recognizing that humans can be good and bad all the same, that there was no keeping score.

It was really difficult to know the answers, to address and recognize the problems, but never have the tools or time to relate the two.

“Shut up, Michigan.” You forced a smile on your face, forcing the proclamation of love back down your throat as it threatened to break free. As you looked out at the rippling water, your eyes glazed over with wetness, you hoped it did not translate to your tone.

Your emotions had been all over the place lately, your highs better than ever before, but your lows detrimental and leaving you feeling like it would never ease up. The numbness was coming and going in waves, and it didn’t take much for any of those things to switch without a moment's notice. Your eyes were never dry and your heart was always heavy, but it was not always for bad like it was before. The surplus of love and the weight of your sadness was a deadly combination, but you were beginning to believe the kindness he extended and the care he exuded was the very thing helping you keep your head above water.

“You know I can’t do that.” He argued, a glimmer of light in his eye you had only ever seen him wear. It was unlike anyone or anything else, like the small flicker was actually the ignition of hope in your chest reflecting on his iris. “Someone has to tell you you’re doing a good job, and we both know that it won’t be you.”

“Didn’t you want to swim?” You laughed, shifting under the weight of his accusation. “Isn’t that why we came here? Didn’t think the plans called for you to call me on my shit all day.”

“Is there ever a plan, Utah?” He spoke gently, easing your overactive mind and assuring you it was not as serious as it felt. “And when there is, do we ever stick to it?” At that, both of you shared a smile, a moment of clarity amidst the heartfelt confessions and heaviness.

“Never. Not even once.” You agreed, the apples of your cheeks burning from your feelings for him, the sun irritating it even further.

The picturesque summer day, capturing the two of you in yet another moment that was seared straight into your heartstrings, made you wonder why it took so long. Why did you wait twenty four years, suffer through all of the horrible things that you feared you would not survive, to finally stumble across the very thing you had wished for so long? If you had met him long ago, would things have been different? If you had known him, that love could be so sweet and kind and forgiving, would living have felt like suffering the whole time?

Worst of all, if he had known you sooner, would you have gotten to love him at all, or would it have been another tragic tale to be added to the ever-growing list in your life?

You wanted to believe that everything happened for a reason, that divine timing was real and that your life was happening the way it was supposed to, but every angle of the theory was painful. Believing anything else seemed to hurt more. To heal, finding something bigger, something meaningful, was imperative. At the same time, it felt impossible to do so, because it all seemed unfair.

Having shit parents led to an addiction, an addiction led to you betraying yourself and everyone you loved, the betrayal caused you to lose your humanity, which left you on the ground outside of a hospital with nobody around to help you through it. That brought you to a treatment centre that gave you more debt than it ever gave help, which put you on a bus to New York. A job at a diner seemed to be your big break, your second chance, until you fell into Vincent’s trap. Rocky sobriety and being treated poorly caused you to run into Danny’s arms, which finally let you begin to heal.

If all the things that happened to you were meant to happen, planned meticulously by a higher power and predestined from your very first breath, why was it so cruel? Did a past life paint you as a monster that deserved repentance in the next? And if things happened the way they did for no reason at all, was it you that caused the problems? Were you so horrible and your judgement so poor that you caused your own suffering and inevitable demise?

The biggest stressor in your life was the endless stream of questions, the constant pondering of theories and ideas you knew you would never get an answer for. You found it difficult to enjoy the moment because you were so inquisitive about the past, and due to your constant fear of catastrophe (because it was the only thing you had ever known), happy always seemed to pass you by without you ever getting to appreciate it. You didn’t want to do that with Daniel, you wanted to appreciate him for all he was and all that he gave you, but even as you sat on the blanket on the warm summer day, you were still stuck in your head, hurting and relenting over things that mattered very little in the long run.

The sound of the guitar felt like an ode to your misery, an anthem for the hurt, fitting too perfectly yet oddly obscure all the same. You felt different, inhuman and without empathy. You were stuck in a box, feeling the outward forces of the world but not actively participating in them. Your wrist continued to move, writing words down on your journal page, but your mind was elsewhere. The functions were automatic, prompted from deep within your subconscious. It was all you knew how to do, and you could do it even with your mind elsewhere, but where your mind was you weren’t even sure.

It felt like you were making progress, every day pushing you further from the pain, but it hurt in a different way now. A longing, aching sensation deep in your chest to go back. You had been stuck in the horror for so long you did not know how to live without it, how to continue moving forward without the claws of the past stuck in your skin. You didn’t know how to be happy, how to feel anything other than indifference towards your every day routine. You felt like you missed it, even if you were eager to leave it all behind.

Worse than that, you could feel yourself healing. Your heart was mending with every tender moment you spent with Daniel, and the sensation was agony. Taking the right steps, doing the right things, remembering and forgetting and piecing it all together into one big puzzle so you could move on, hurt.

Your whole life, you listened to ranting and raving about healing—how it’s our job, our responsibility and duty to ourselves to make a better future for us and everyone around us, and you agreed. You knew it was best, and you still do. At the same time, you often wondered why it was your job to mend the parts of you that others broke, to clean up the mess someone else made. Everyone talks about healing, but nobody talks about accountability.

How are you supposed to heal if you never get apologies, or even just acknowledgements from the ones who did the things that broke you?

You knew you fucked up, there were things you did wrong and mistakes you made, reactions to others wrongdoings you wish you could take back and rewrite. You weren’t innocent, but you never lied about that. You never once pretended that you were. You didn’t think you were a good person, nor did you blame your actions on everyone else.

If healing is so important, then why did it seem like you were the only one who had to take on those burdens?

As you looked out at the water, your head ached as the thoughts pounded against your skull. It was just another tale you would never live to see the end of, a story that would forever remain unfinished. Closing your eyes and tapping back into the peacefulness that Daniel carried with him wherever he went, you found one last question crossing your mind.

Why does everyone talk about having to heal and the importance of it, but never seem to address how fucking difficult it is to do so?

“Danny?” You hummed out his name, placing your journal and pen on the ground beside you. Leaning forward and wrapping your arms around your legs, you let your chin rest on your knees as he once again slowed his fingers to a stop.

“Yeah?”

I love you.

“I…” you gulped down a breath, feeling a wave of fear wash over you. “I’m really lucky to have you.” As he caught your eye, you couldn’t help but feel a deep rooted sense of shame at your inability to confess your feelings. Still, in the chocolate colour of his irises, you could sense his heart. Although unspoken from both sides, he knew what you truly meant, and he felt the same.

“I’m lucky to have you.” He smiled, so soft and sweet that for a moment, nothing else existed. “I never thought that I would have this, either.” He confessed, his palm still muting the barely-there hum of the copper coated strings.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your fingers ruffling the edges of the plastic wrapper of the candy bag.

“You remember that night in the hotel in Jersey? We were a little drunk and too high?”

“F’course I do.” You nodded, pulling your legs to your chest and resting your cheek on your knees. As he spoke, you didn’t dare let your eyes stray from his face. “I think about that night all of the time. Think that’s when things finally changed for me. I stopped being so scared and started opening up.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” He agreed, his tone laced with a soft lull in the middle of his statement, like the thought of it caught him in a moment of high emotion. “You told me you’ve never had anything like this, or like us.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding slightly as he spoke. You studied the sparkle in his eye as he recalled the racing of his heart and flutter of his stomach he felt when hearing such confessions, finding your body stuck in the same reaction as his way back then.

You wondered for a single second how it was possible for him to love you so deeply, even when you had no idea who he loved. Your sense of self was ever-changing, your perception of the world flipping on a dime and reflecting within yourself, starting in one direction and ending up miles from your intended destination. You loved him without ever having intent to love at all, let alone honing the capabilities to do so. You had cycled through a million versions of yourself in the short time you had known him, never staying stationary or even really moving.

Yet, despite your unknowns and uncertainty, he loved you the same, treating you with caution and knowing exactly what you needed, whether it was help to steady yourself or to encourage reform.

You were so grateful for his existence, and felt undeserving of his kindness. Still, you tried your very hardest to show him how much you truly appreciated it, even if you felt like it wasn’t enough sometimes (or, all of the time).

“I’ve never had anything like this, either. Thought I did a couple times, but it wasn’t… it was nothing like this. I started to think I never would, and then I met you.”

Embarrassed at your racing heart and blushed cheeks, you held back a small smile as you listened to his words, wondering how he never felt loved before you, how he never felt heard or cared about. You thought it was blasphemous that anyone could have the opportunity to love Daniel and then let it slip through their fingers, to not fight until their dying breath to keep him. At the same time, you were grateful for the fact, because that gave you the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Sometimes, I get the impression that you think you aren’t important, or that you aren’t important to me. Utah, I wonder if you’ll ever know that you’re everything to me. I’ll spend forever trying to prove it, but I worry that you’ll never believe me.”

“I think I’m starting to see it.” You whispered, the serenity of the scene around you touching your soul in ways you never thought you would experience before. “I definitely have a way of making things harder than they need to be, but I’m trying not to do that any more.” You paused, listening to the wind and the rippling water hit the shoreline. “Apple juice.”

“Apple juice.” He confirmed, a smile beginning to turn the corners of his lips.

“I think I’m healing, Michigan.” The words whirred past your lips in a flash, the air of your lungs chilling the skin as the proclamation barely reached his ears. Even you were surprised at the confidence that exuded from you, but it felt right.

His head cocked to the side ever so slightly, his lips parted as he breathed in the warmth of your statement. “I never thought I’d say that… and I know I still have a long way to go, but I finally feel… I don’t know, like I’m taking the right steps, that there’s hope, that it doesn’t have to be like this forever.”

“There is hope, Utah.” He agreed. “It doesn’t have to be this way forever, and you are taking the right steps. However long it takes, I’m here and I want to help. We're in this together, and I’m so proud of how far you’ve come, even if you hate it when I say that.” His smile, infectious and awe-inspiring, struck one on your lips too.

“I’m starting to hate it a lot less, actually.” You whispered, sheepish but proud to admit it. “Guess that’s part of the whole healing thing.”

“I guess so.” He agreed, reaching across the distance and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. Lifting your head slightly, you felt his palm cup your cheek, the peacefulness that came from his touch almost too much to comprehend. With the sun shining down on you, it was just another moment that passed you by, but a memory that you longed to live within forever.

𓇢𓆸

July 26th, 2022 - 4:58 PM

“No, Utah—“ a defeated sigh left Sam’s lips, the smell of sauce cooking on the stove surrounding the two of you as his head fell back on his shoulders. “That’s too—too, agh!” He exclaimed, so beside himself with grief he couldn’t even articulate his words.

“What, Sam?” You laughed, the blade of the knife resting on the wooden cutting board as you turned to look at him. “What’s wrong now?”

Yours and Sam’s adventures in cooking often prompted the same results every time. You, trying your best to follow his instructions with very little experience (especially for the strange but delicious recipes he often followed), and Sam appreciating the effort but always having something to say about it. Still, it was lighthearted and fun, and never once did you take it personally. From what you had grown to know about Sam, it was that he was odd and particular about certain things, and cooking so happened to be one of them.

“It’s just, you’re doing good, they just need to be a little… thinner. Just a smidge, okay?” He held up his thumb and forefinger, pinching them together to give a physical demonstration along with his words.

“Does it really matter that much?” You knew it was a stupid question, because to Sam—

“It always matters.”

“Okay.” You picked up the knife, bringing it back to the eggplant and adjusting it to the size he wanted. Carefully, you sliced another piece off, looking at him for approval as it toppled over onto the wood below.

“Perfect.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze along with a reassuring smile. “See, Utah? You’re learning.”

“Don’t really have any other choice.” You chuckled quietly. “Feels like you’re running Hell’s Kitchen, sometimes.”

“Oh, shut up.” You could hear the eye roll in his words despite not looking in his direction, your attention occupied with cutting the eggplant perfectly to avoid another one of his mini-meltdowns. Turning back to tend to the sauce, he didn’t offer any more conversation, which you were fine with.

Danny was off to the store to buy a few missing ingredients for dinner, and Sam insisted on you staying behind to help him with the rest of it. Although you were a bit put out that you weren’t going with Daniel, spending time with Sam had never been a problem for you. Plus, even if you would never admit it, cooking with him was giving you a surplus of helpful life skills that your parents seriously missed the mark on.

“So,” you could hear the ladle tapping on the side of the sauce pan, the noise faint as Sam began to speak again. “How are you feeling?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine.” You dismissed his question, a slight tremble in your fingers as you continued to work away at the eggplant. You hated being put on the spot, but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of the simple question.

“Yeah, right.” You could hear him opening a can of something behind you, but you did not turn to look. “Come on, Y/N. I know you better than that.”

“Seriously, Sam. M’okay.” You tried again, now finished cutting and moving on to placing the eggplant slices on a paper towel to let them dry as Sam instructed. “I mean, all things considered, I’m alright.” You shrugged, knowing deep in your heart he wouldn’t dare let it go so quickly.

“Well… what about the things not considered?”

“What?” You laughed, caught off guard and finding his nuances comedic.

“You know,” he shrugged too, trying to pass off his prying nature as something lighthearted. “What are the things not considered, Utah?” His brown eyes stared straight through you, causing you to shift on your feet and your throat to tighten.

“How do you do that?” You broke, your cool and calm facade fading in an instant.

“Do… what?” He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile on his face as he saw the clear emotion in your eyes.

“Fuck off, Sam.” You smiled, a huff of air passing your lips as you leaned against the countertop. “I guess there’s a lot that isn’t considered.”

“Go on.” He gave a slow nod, prompting you to keep talking.

“Like… this crushing guilt. The responsibility.”

“What do you mean?”

“I played a part too, yaknow? And I’m painting him as this monster when I—“ he held up his hand, silencing you before you could continue, giving his head a slight shake.

“No, Utah.” He spoke softly now, almost sad as he said it. “Whatever you’re feeling, yes it’s valid, but it doesn’t make it true.” Your gaze averting to the floor, you felt the same heaviness in your chest that plagued you off and on for the last few days. It was new, more visceral and definitely more intense than before. You began to wonder if you would ever be fully free from it, or if it was just another thing you would have to learn to live with. “Whatever you did or didn’t do, has nothing to do with what he did. I don’t know the guy, but I know enough about him to tell you that. He’s probably been working hard for a long time to make you think all of this is your fault, but it isn’t. What he did was horrible, but it would have happened no matter if you fought back or not, even if not that night. Hell, Utah, if it didn’t happen to you, it would have happened to someone else. Even though you were in the equation, you weren’t even a variable.”

For some reason, hearing Sam say such things hit you with an intensity never quite felt before. You heard the same things, the same ideas, but you never really believed it. When he said it, you understood.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cut you off, or whatever… just don’t want you thinking that it’s your fault. You have no reason to feel guilty, and you have no need to feel responsible. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. The wrong girl with the wrong guy. The right heart in the wrong hands.” He listed, trying to find the right way to phrase it. “And I hope now that you’re being loved by someone else, with that heart in the right hands, you can see that too. If not now, then at least someday.”

“I love you, Sam.” The phrase slipped out as smooth as silk and as soft as a foot can fall. You didn’t blink twice, nor truly register the extent of the statement until it hung heavy in the air for a moment, even Sam stunned by your unapologetic boldness. Shocking to you too, you didn’t feel panicked as the dreaded word danced around your head. For the first time ever, it was comfortable. Loving people and being loved wasn’t war. It was safe.

“I love you, Utah.” He replied, just as relaxed as he professed the fact. “What else is beating around up there?”

“I dunno,” you sighed, your shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “Guess it’s just hard. I mean, sleeping together and feelings aside, he was a huge part of my life. We did everything together—him, Dylan and I… we were partners in crime. I always knew he wasn’t the best, but having to come to terms with him being a horrible person and grieving the loss of the routine is hard. I don’t feel right talking to Danny about it, ‘cause I don’t wanna give him the wrong idea. I hope you get what I mean.”

“I do.” He assured you, giving the sauce in the pot a slight stir. “Utah, it’s hard to lose anyone. Someone with that much history… of course I get it. It’s just important to me that you deal with that healthily, and you continue to remember why you have to stay away. If you don’t wanna talk to Daniel about it, that’s okay. You can always talk to me, about anything, anytime. I know you’re weird with that stuff, but it doesn’t change that.”

“I know, and I’m trying to not be so weird about it. Guess I just… When you grow up being punished for talking about your feelings, it makes it hard to do it as an adult. Actually, it made a lot of things hard as an adult.” You explained, sprinkling the tops of the eggplant with salt before placing another paper towel atop of them to dry them out a bit.

“And I’m sorry that I don’t understand that part, but I promise I can try my best to. That's what friends do, after all.” He gave you a small smile and a sideways glance, nudging you with his elbow ever so slightly. A small giggle falling from your lips, you finally began to feel the safeness of the home to its fullest extent. Danny and Sam were unlike anything you had ever experienced, so kind and understanding, so patient and so loving. Whatever family they felt within each other, you knew you were undoubtedly a part of it, and it warmed a piece of your heart that you never thought could be touched again.

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything, Sam.” You assured him, scraping the vegetable scraps into the garbage can and placing the cutting board and knife into the sink.

“How is that empty feeling? Still sticking around, or has it gotten better?” He pulled a glass baking dish from one of the cupboards and carefully sat it on the table as he spoke, the gentle clanging breaking up the heaviness of his question.

“The same, I guess.” You felt defeat sink your shoulders as you thought about it, knowing that the heavy and the empty was a forever type of thing. “It never really goes away, honestly. It’s just easier to ignore when I’m around other people.” You washed your hands, taking a moment longer than necessary to let the hot water scald your skin, almost liking the pain that it brought with it.

You never wanted to believe you had a knack for self harm or punishment, but every single one of your actions and decisions proved otherwise. Even if it was mindless or unintentional, you always seemed to lead yourself down a path that would end in pain. For a long time, you never understood why. As you grew older, you started to accredit it to the burgeoning emptiness in question. When you’re numb, even pain is preferable to nothing.

“Has it gotten worse?” You weren’t really sure how to answer that.

What level of nothing is worse than the last?

You supposed that it was possible for it to be worse, and it was. At the same time, it wasn’t constant. It was a hard emotion to explain because there wasn’t really any emotion behind it. That, and you never had to try to explain it before.

“Uh, yes and no?” You gave a dry laugh, mostly to yourself, embarrassed over your inability to properly express yourself at the age of twenty-four.

“You don’t seem so sure of yourself.” He laughed too, keeping it lighthearted in hopes of keeping you comfortable.

“I guess not.” You grinned, drying your hands on the kitchen towel. “It isn’t constant, but when it comes, it gets pretty bad.” Just as you finished, you heard the familiar sound of wheels on pavement outside, and not long after, Rose’s bark of warning. “But it’s okay. I’ll be okay.” You concluded, feeling your chest tighten at the thought of explaining the feeling to Danny, too. Sam understood your desire to shut the conversation down, respecting your desire to tell him on your own time, and busied himself at the stove.

“How about we go for a walk in the morning? Get some fresh air, some sun… just you and me… and Rose, of course.” He offered, knowing there was still many things you wanted to get off your chest. “Can talk a little more, get you out of the house with no other obligations.” Although he didn’t specify, you understood and appreciated what he meant.

“Yeah… that sounds really nice, actually.” You replied, an unfamiliar feeling ravaging your brain. It was unexplainable, so nice to be seen, to be heard, and for someone to want to for no other reason than want itself and the desire to know. You were still getting used to it from Sam, and even Daniel, though you had a bit more time to grow accustomed to Daniel’s keen ear.

“It’s a date then.” He grinned, finishing just as Daniel stepped through the front door with a bag of groceries. With a smack on Sam’s arm and a sheepish wave to Danny, you couldn’t help but feel you were exactly where you needed to be.

July 27th, 2022 - 7:02 AM

In the soft summer breeze drifting through the cracked window, the curls laying atop Danny’s shoulders fluttered and brushed your arm, tickling the skin and warming your heart. Waking up next to Daniel was and always had been the best and most beautiful part of your day. Turning on your side, finding yourself settled between his arm and his chest, you had never felt more at peace than when your head laid to rest on him. He was awake, you knew as much, but just as groggy and intent to enjoy the moment. Instead of speaking, greeting you verbally, his large hand curled around your back and pulled you closer to him, his fingers making home on your ass as the tips brushed the hem of your underwear on your hip.

Every time you found yourself in the position, you couldn’t help but notice how perfectly the two of you fit together, and more importantly, how nothing else had ever felt so right in your entire life. You draped your arm across him, only managing half the task as your hand settled on his stomach just above the band of his boxers.

You started the mornings this way most often, never intending for anything more yet always finding yourself in search of it.

You felt his head shift on the pillow, turning inwards towards your head as he placed a kiss to the top of it. You barely hummed a noise of content, but he could feel the rattle of your chest as you tried to melt into him further. The sticky summer air made home in the room, the morning dew long gone from the grass as the sun beat down on the ground. Leaving the window open always left you in the same spot, yet you could never find the energy to close it before your eyes forced themselves to sleep at night, your hearts too heavy with love and your mind at ease.

As his fingers traced the elastic band of your underwear, innocent and mindless, yours did the same to him. Your eyes were heavy again, threatening sleep, but your rapid heart wouldn’t allow you to return to the state so long as it had any say in the matter. Lazily, you pressed your lips to the body you laid atop of, a quiet show of affection in hopes of expressing how much he meant to you. In your ear, you could feel the thump of his own heart against his breastbone, quickening as your lips grazed his skin and giving him away entirely.

Absentmindedly, your hand drifted downward, still not intending to start anything but certainly not opposed to the idea. Again, you noticed his body react to your miniscule movements, especially as your hand met his dick, already hard and anticipating your next move.

Your mornings with Daniel were special just because you woke up next to him, but mostly because this was how you started nearly every day.

As your fingers closed around him over the thin fabric, little force behind the movements, you felt his hips raise to meet your touch. With a small smirk forming on your lips, you decided to let him suffer for a single moment. As you remained still, he took the opportunity to slip his hand under your underwear, his palm landing flat against your ass as his fingers tightened around the flesh. The feeling produced a sensation deep in the pit of your stomach, making you understand for a moment what you were doing to him.

Underneath your shirt (which, as always, belonged to him), you felt your nipples harden. You were sure he felt it too, the thin fabric doing little to conceal you as your body was pressed against his. The earliest hours of the morning, still stuck in a dreamlike state, always left your senses heightened and your body reactive.

Though, as you’d come to know, it was mostly credited to him. He had the ability to elicit a reaction just by looking your way, and he often used it to his advantage.

Fully flush against him, you took the time to appreciate the security the position granted you, the safety and the comfort it provided. When you were with him, the whole world felt still, like nothing could touch you and hurt could not know you. You wished you could exist within the bubble of comfort forever, to love him without interruption and enjoy him without any distraction. In all truth, when you focused on his company enough, you began to think you already were existing within it constantly.

Reaching across with his free hand, you were a mess of limbs as his other palm cupped your breast, the scratchy cotton of the t-shirt and the pressure from his hand against your nipple causing your thighs to squeeze together. A growing ache between your legs began to pester you, but you didn’t worry too much about it—in due time, he would ensure that was taken care of.

With little care, he enjoyed every second of touching you, feeling so incredibly lucky he was the one who got to experience every morning with you.

Letting his thumb drift over your nipple, feeling the tense of your body underneath his hands, made him remorseful that he could not see the beauty of your face. You felt all of the same things, and as if you read his mind, tilted your head upwards to catch a glimpse of his breathtaking eyes. The morning light flickering through the window casted a golden glow over his features, the shadow of his nose falling over his sun kissed skin. The days spent outside darkened the freckles dusted over the bridge of it, speckled on his cheeks in constellations you were desperate to be an expert on.

“Good morning, beautiful.” His morning rasp was like music to your ears, just sweet enough to keep the tempo but gruff enough to further the feeling blossoming in the pit of your stomach. “Sleep well?”

“Always, cause I’m sleepin’ next to you.” You smiled, noticing the curl of his eyelashes against his under eye as you blinked, wondering if anyone ever loved him so much that they studied all the intricacies like you did. It was a conflicting thought, because although Daniel was impossible not to love thoroughly and completely, you also did not believe anyone loved anyone as much as you loved him.

“Funny, ‘cause I was about to say the same thing.” He said, applying a little more pressure to his thumb. Your breath caught in your throat, your thighs giving another pathetic squeeze and barely satiating the ache.

“That is funny,” you agreed, your tone breathy as he mindlessly worked at you, barely realizing the extent of the effect he had on you. Your hand, still on his clothed cock, did nothing to aid your swarm of thoughts all pertaining to the same thing.

“Something wrong?” He smiled, cheeky as he asked the question he already knew the answer to. You managed a small shake of your head, your eyes silently pleading with him to take care of the issue he already knew you were having. “Hmm?” He pressed further, his love of torment not even leaving him in the mornings, when the love was the most soft and tender.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, only half-annoyed with his words. “Or, put your mouth to better use.” You offered the alternative, not expecting much of a response from him. Still, you felt him tense ever so slightly, thrilled at the thought of it but not jumping to action.

“Expect to get but not give?” The hand on your ass tightened, easily forcing your hips into his as he spoke. “Selfish, no?”

Instead of a verbal response, you leaned forward, your lips ghosting over the toned muscles in his abdomen. A labored breath took him by surprise, not expecting you to be so willing without at least a bit of a fight. You eased your hold on him, instead curling your fingers around the elastic of his boxers and freeing him from them. Pushing the thin cotton sheet away from him, there was nothing standing in between you and him any longer.

You inched your upper half lower, your chest settled on his hip as you wasted little time bringing your mouth to the tip of his cock. Carefully, you let your tongue trace over it, your eyes fluttering closed as the saltiness of his pre-cum filled your senses. Flattening your tongue against him, you heard a low groan rattle his chest, causing your thighs to rub together now, desperation quickly filling the room. You pulled back for just long enough to let a trail of spit fall, then returned to him as if you had never left at all.

Taking him into your mouth, you settled your tongue on the topside of his cock as you bobbed your head a bit lower, feeling him throb against you as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

If only he knew how happy you would be to do only this for the rest of your life, he never would have challenged you at all. If only you were brave enough to tell him, you wouldn’t have had to worry about it at all.

One hand still on your ass, kneading the flesh gently as his other raised to your hair, brushing it from your face and balling it in his fist as you continued to work at him. Now, familiar with the feeling, you took him further into your mouth. As you relaxed your jaw and took him all the way, you felt his hips jut forward as his tip glided down the back of your throat. You let out a low hum, the vibration sending him crazy as his fist tightened in your hair.

Letting him lead the way, he used your hair as leverage to set a pace, moving your head while still being mindful of your comfort and breathing. Although his actions made it seem like he was in control, you knew that it was always you who held the reins.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned, quiet and gentle as his head fell back on the pillow below him. Your eyes were closed, a picture of his bliss filled expression clear in the blackness of your mind and making you envious that you could not see it. At the same time, you were grateful to be doing what you were, considering yourself more than lucky to be the one who got to do it with him. “Such a sweet little thing—always so good to me.” The praise felt like lead in the pit of your stomach, half-tempting you to reach between your legs and relieve some of the pressure that was worsening by the minute. Instead, you balled the comforter up in your fist, trying your best to distract yourself from the urge and focus on pleasing him.

The feeling of him in your mouth was enough to get you off, knowing how good you were making him feel enough to drive you insane. The dull ache in your jaw reminded you that you were doing a good job, and the sweet noises falling from his lips kept you going. On every upstroke of your head, you took a moment to trace your tongue over his tip, living for the slight tremble of his legs and the catch of his breath in his chest.

Just as you felt him the back of your throat again, a knock on the door sent your eyes wide open and your movements to halt. Danny, with his hand still in your hair, did not push you even if he wanted to.

“S’okay, baby, he’ll go away.” He assured you, keeping a hushed whisper so the man on the other side of the door could not hear you. Giving a gentle nod, you continued on with your earlier pace, not willing to stop when you had just begun.

As you grew comfortable with the sensation again, another knock sounded on the door, but this time, Daniel continued to guide your head so you did not stop.

You hated to admit it, but it only seemed to turn you on further.

“What’s up?” He called out, the lull in his voice could easily be accredited to being groggy from waking up. He was doing relatively well to remain composed, and you had little worry that Sam knew what was happening behind the closed door.

“Got a date with Utah, remember? Hand her over.” He joked through the door, clearly not knowing exactly what he was interrupting (or, nearly interrupting). “She up yet?”

“No,” Danny lied easily, his eyes flickering to the back of your head as a smirk formed on his lips. As your head came down on him, he lifted his hips off the bed to meet the time of your action, inhaling deeply through his nose to calm his nerves. “She didn’t sleep well last night—I’ll wake her up in a little bit, but not yet.”

“Okay,” you could hear the hesitancy in his voice, like he was only agreeing because of the circumstances. “But not too long, you know—“

“Sam.” Danny cut him short, no different than he would any other day. When it came to your wellbeing, he was unwilling to debate it, even if it was as miniscule as an extra half an hour of sleep. You knew that although he was saying it as a cover, his frustration with Sam disregarding your comfort was very real.

“Sorry, yeah.” He conceded. “Whenever she wakes up is cool with me.” With that, you heard his footsteps fade away to the kitchen, leaving the two of you to finish what you started.

Sloppy and careless, you let him fall from your lips and ran your tongue down the length of him, feeling him shudder ever so slightly as you came back up and took him back in. A strangled cry left his lips, muffled as he tried to silence himself so he did not give the two of you away.

“Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, feeling your throat close around him as you swallowed him down. You could feel his need, radiating from him as he continued to hold your head in place and fuck your mouth. You had come to realize that being used by him was one of your most favorite pastimes. “God, you take it so fucking well.” At the sound of his words, you were sure your arousal had soaked straight through your panties and began to make a mess of your inner thighs. His hand still on your ass, warm and strong as he held you, the feeling more encouraging than anything else in the universe.

You tried to steady your breathing, to blink away the tears stinging your eyes as he used you as he wished, wanting to make the most of his pleasure and give him what he needed. The rise of a gag in your throat was more pressing with every upward thrust of his hips, but you swallowed it back and inhaled through your nose, trying your best to focus on the intoxicating taste of him on your tongue and the beautiful noises falling from his lips, hushed and whispered so you knew how good you made him feel.

Comfortable with the thought of him finishing in your mouth, you were almost hopeful he would, just so you could try to begin to thank him for all he had done for you in the last few weeks. When you felt him twitch on your tongue, a telltale sign, you felt your heart thrum in your chest with excitement. Then, not long after you bargained with the feeling, he was pulling you off of him by your hair, letting out a long sigh to calm himself down.

Catching your breath, you raised the back of your hand to your face to swipe away the lingering spit on your skin, your stomach twisted in a knot as he used his hand to guide you back on the mattress. As he twisted onto his side, his sleepy eyes staring down at your face, he noticed the disappointment lingering in your features. He raised a hand to your cheek, a gentle thumb swiping over your blushed skin as he gave you a smile. “Don’t want all of the fun to end before I get to fuck you.” He reminded, his voice low and gravelly as he dropped his hand to your chest. Slowly, he let his fingers graze over your nipple again, causing a flood of pleasure to fill you yet again.

As his hand reached the hem of your shirt, your mouth was dry and your throat was tight, so thrilled at the thought of him touching you that your entire body was in shock. His rough fingertips scratched the soft skin just above your panty line, leaving you shuddering below his touch. His hand drifted further down, grazing the arousal soaking through the fabric. Gently, he settled his touch just over your clit, the miniscule friction causing you to squirm. Your hips raised ever so slightly, desperate for more and unafraid to show it. The need you felt for him was primal, and sometimes you feared you would succumb to it.

“All this just for me?” He asked, leaning down and letting his lips graze your neck. The soft tickle forced your eyes closed, sending your hand out in search of him as a dire need to touch him took hold.

“It’s all for you.” You confirmed, your tone breathy as you felt his tongue trace the pulse point of your neck.

“You’re too good to me, baby.” He hummed, the taste of you arguably the sweetest thing he had ever experienced. The smallest huff left your lips as he applied a touch more pressure, his lips suctioned to your neck as he left pink marks on your skin, desperate for you to remember the shared morning long after it passed.

He loved to take his time with you, feel how your body reacted to every slight touch and whispered word, how your eyes clouded and your breathing quickened when he did something that you loved. His favorite pastime was you, dedicating himself to learning you better than anyone ever had, becoming an expert on the one thing that made him want to fall to his knees. Every sound that fell from your lips, the hitch of your breath in your throat, the pull of your body forcing him closer—it was all worse than any drug he could think of, his addiction pertaining to the only thing in the world that could actually give back.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asked, his fingertip slick with your arousal without even actually touching you yet. You felt a whine rise in your chest, beside yourself knowing that you had any effect on him at all. “Every day, every fucking night, you are the only thing I can think of.” His lips were hovering over your ear, his words loud despite being spoken so softly. As his sentence drew to a close, he pushed the fabric aside and finally let himself feel the mess he knew he was responsible for. The tip of his middle finger settled over your entrance, the slickness of your skin causing his brain to short circuit for a moment before he trailed the wetness all the way up to your clit.

You squirmed under the touch, the sensation immediately overwhelming and invigorating. The simple action seemed to set your soul on fire, the sensation turning you to ash from the inside out. You had spent your entire night dreaming of him, picturesque images of him doing these exact things, whispering the same words. The parallels made you wonder if you were still dreaming or if everything truly was this perfect for the first time in your whole life.

Tracing slow circles, his head raised from the crook of your neck just enough to catch a glimpse of your face. His eyes burned into you, blackened with lust and sheen with desire as he watched every shift in your expression. The way your hair framed the beauty of you, tickling your cheeks that were stained red. The part of your lips, pink and tempting him every time he paid too much attention to them. Catching himself struggling with holding back, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours, the taste of you intoxicating and to him, completely irresistible.

By the time he drew back, his middle and index finger had fallen back to your entrance, slowly pushing into you as he settled his thumb over your clit. The combination of the two feelings caused your eyes to roll back for a moment, your body melting into the mattress and his touch, leaving you a mess below him. He was leaned against you, not willing to miss out on a single second of closeness as he worked you up to an orgasm.

“God, Danny.” You breathed, catching his eye for just long enough to show him how good you were feeling. He let out a deep hum, the vibration of his chest running straight through you to your heart.

“Does that feel good, honey?” He asked, a touch of a snide twang in his tone, cocky and already knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

“F-feels so good.” You nodded, feeling his head return to its earlier resting place and his tongue trace over your skin once again, just to add to the feeling.

“You know I’d do anything to make you feel good, Angel.” He continued, the precision of his thumb and the curl of his fingers already pushing you near the edge. “But you’d take anything, hmm? Whatever I want to do to you, you’d like it, and you’d let me.” As the sharp words reached your ears, the tips of his fingers brushed your g-spot, curling your toes and arching your back. He could feel you shift underneath you, smiling at the reaction as he awaited your response.

“F-fuck, yes.” You hissed, your fingers curled around his bicep tightening as your nails scratched against his skin. You could feel the muscle flex involuntarily, only forcing your mind to even filthier places.

“Why is that, honey?” He asked, his voice sickly sweet as he whispered the words into your ear. Feeling you clench around him, pulling him in further only worsened his tyranny, his head swimming with nothing but vulgarity and obscenity. “Want to hear you say it.” You followed up his statement with a muffled, hushed whimper, your teeth holding your bottom lip hostage as you tried your best to keep yourself quiet.

“Cause I’m yours,” you gasped, the sound taking you by surprise when you freed your lip to speak. He chuckled, the gentle roll of his shoulders bringing you back to reality for a moment.

“That’s it, baby.” He encouraged, keeping his thumb and fingers in time as he sped his pace. “‘Cause you belong to me. You’re mine.” He reiterated the point, making sure you could never forget it. Possessiveness was not his forte anywhere aside from the bedroom, but he made sure to always take the opportunity to let you know when the two of you found yourselves in such a position. You never found the ability to express it quite the way you wanted to, but being his was the best thing you had ever been.

The euphoria that came along with the claim worsened the pressure in the pit of your stomach and forced a moan straight from your chest. The minute it left your lips, you tried to swallow it back, but it bounced off the walls and made a home in the wood. You hoped it did not extend beyond the door, because both of you were wishing to keep Sam in the dark about what was happening in the room. Your cheeks burned red, embarrassed at your sudden outburst, but Danny did not seem phased at all. Instead, he spoke so quietly and carefully, kindness exuding from him as his lips brushed your skin again.

“Shh, baby.” Danny cooed, his lips so close to your ear that it sounded like he was inside your head. His voice was soft, gentle, but it was driving you crazy. The warmth of his breath sent your hair raising on the back of your neck, goosebumps littering your skin as you raised your hips from the bed to meet the time of his hand. His thumb, drifting over your clit with unwavering focus as his fingers curled inside you, brushing the sensitive spot he’d grown to know so well. “Wouldn’t want Sam to hear you, hmm?”

He was hovering over you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress ever so slightly, something that would normally feel so constricting suddenly feeling like home. The thud of your heart against his own froze the two of you in time, your eyes locked on his face as your teeth bit down on the inside of your lip. Your stomach was twisted into knots, the need pulsing under your skin and driving you to the brink of insanity.

“That’s it, baby.” He hummed, his pace never slowing and his movements calculated and driven. He could feel the flutter of your walls, pulling him in even further and tempting you with eternity. For the briefest moment, you believed you could survive solely off his praise alone so long as you were nestled under the strength of his arms until the world burned away below you. “That’s my girl—being so good for me.”

“O-oh, fuck.” You gasped, feeling a particularly sharp pull of pleasure in the pit of your stomach. The words followed by a whine from deep in your chest, pushing through your throat and getting stuck in your teeth as you tried to swallow it back.

Catching on to the fact you were having trouble containing yourself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, swallowing down the sounds with little hesitation the taste of him on your lips only worsened the intensity of the moment, and as his tongue tied with yours, he essentially doused the raging fire with a new wave of gasoline.

As he kissed you, you felt the million secrets that once existed between you dissolve into nothing; your soul, bared and open for the taking, was all his. Everything you ever were, everything you would ever be, was tangled with his name and tainted with his touch. Once, long ago, you believed it would be a bad thing for one person to exist on so many plains, to be embedded in every aspect of your life, but as time continued on, you understood that there was no other way to live. From the moment he walked into your life, you only ever wanted to be his, and every intimate moment only further cemented the notion in your mind.

You were his girl, and it was the best feeling in the entire world.

It was overwhelming, all-consuming, ethereal and beautiful just as much as it was concupiscent and vulgar, sinful and immoral. What you felt for him was something you never knew existed, a feeling often spoken about in fiction and poetry, yet never felt on the mortal level and certainly never reciprocated. The yearning that constantly held your heart in chains would send you straight to the pits of hell, and you would suffer every second for eternity because experiencing him once was worth it all.

You wanted to cry his name, to tell him of all the love you held for him in your body, but he ensured not a single sound could slip past your swollen and spit-slicked lips. Your lungs burned, aching for a breath as he poured his heart into you and bled himself dry all for your sake. You could feel him against your thigh, the strain of his boxers as he continued to torment you in the most fantastic ways. You felt greedy, gluttonous to want more and need more, but when it came to him, you never knew when to stop. The erratic rhythm of his heart against his chest, every tick in time with your own as his scorching skin laid atop yours. With every flex of his arm, stretch of his torso, the friction against your already hard and sensitive nipples sent a rush of energy straight to your core, forcing you closer to the steep edge.

“Come on, beautiful. Show me how good it feels.” He encouraged, the pattern of his movements never changing. You shuddered at the idea of him wanting it more than you did, overwhelmed by the fact he cared so deeply about you. You were so close, teetering on the edge, and with every pump of his fingers you were nearing closer and closer. “Don't be shy, baby.” He continued, the sound of his voice always the driving force behind every orgasm.

The permissive statement sent you spiraling, your legs trembling as a wave of pleasure took hold and washed over every nerve in your body. You held him tightly, keeping yourself grounded as you fought back the noises begging to escape. In hopes of silencing yourself, you turned your head to the side and buried your head in his neck, your lips pressing to his skin as your throat ached to cry out. Not once did he slow, ensuring to keep his time so he could work you through the feeling as much as he could.

“There you go, Angel.” He whispered. “Such a good girl.” You felt your hips lock, your stomach burn as the sweet praise filled your ears. Your skin was tingling, your lungs burning as you denied them any breath in hopes of silencing yourself further.

Only when you relaxed against the bed did he remove his hands from you, but not because he was finished with you. Instead, he rose to his knees, moving one of your legs to the side so he could slip between them. Still high off the orgasm, you barely noticed the shift in position until he was towering over you.

When you came-to and the blur of your eyes settled, you saw the flicking summer sun illuminating his face and chest as he stared down at you. Your mouth ran dry, the beauty of the sight almost debilitating for a brief moment. Then, as if he was trying to make it even worse for you to keep your composure, he raised his middle and index finger to his mouth, parting his lips just enough to settle the digits on his tongue. His eyes fluttered closed in bliss as the taste of you filled his senses, and as he pulled his fingers from his mouth, a low groan rattled his chest.

“If I could have you just like this for the rest of my life, I’d never need anything else.” He confessed, his hands ghosting over your thighs as he pushed your legs towards your stomach. Smitten and at a loss for words, you watched as he anchored his hands around the front of your legs and pulled you down towards him. The curve of your ass fit perfectly against him, his cock resting against your cunt as he positioned you to his liking.

Slowly, he ran himself through you, gathering all of your arousal on him before he lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed his hips forward slightly, just his tip pushing into you. Even that feeling was euphoric, and you knew what was to come would only be better. With your knees nearly to your chest, every time he moved, no matter how miniscule, you felt it with heightened intensity.

“I just can’t get enough of you.” He confessed, finally pushing his hips forward all of the way. The feeling of fullness was otherworldly, the position he had you in causing the tip of his cock to brush your cervix. Slowly, he began to move, wanting to make sure you were comfortable before anything else.

Biting down on the tip of your tongue, you still found it difficult to stay quiet. Him being inside you was the most pleasant feeling in the entire world, more intoxicating the longer it lasted. Your head was still swimming from your previous climax, your body sensitive and still craving more as he slowly withdrew and pushed himself back inside of you. The ethereal light that shined over him stole the breath straight from your lungs, forcing you to wonder how you got so lucky. Since the very beginning, you had never felt like you deserved him, and as time dragged on and you continued to subject him to your mess of a life, the thought only pestered you more.

He was the most beautiful thing the world had to offer, and you were just thankful to be able to love him, no matter if it was just for a moment or if it turned into forever.

“God, you feel so fucking good.” He sighed, his thrusts not fast but forceful, the power behind his hips bordering painful as he slammed back into you, yet you couldn’t get enough. “Just like you were fucking made for me, baby.” At that, you felt a flood of emotion straight to your core, your body loosening up for him a little more with each word that fell from his lips. The tiniest moan fell from your lips, quiet enough that you both knew nobody heard it, yet enough to catch his attention. “Does that feel good, beautiful? This is what you wanted?”

“Fuck, yes.” You muttered, your hands in search of his head as your fingers tangled in the locks of his hair. He leaned down a little further, allowing you to hold him with ease as he continued to fuck into you. His fingers on your hips were driving you crazy, holding you tight enough that you could feel the sting over the blinding pleasure. When the day turned into night again, you knew finger shaped bruises would decorate the skin, a perfect replica of the hand of the man you loved so dearly. The thought of them fading away brought an air of sadness to your heart despite them never having graced your skin yet.

You could feel the pressure building in your belly again, the warmth beginning to take over and begging you to let go. You never had much resistance to him, never a desire to hold back and never the ability to do so anyway. Losing your sanity little by little, the looseness of your lips increased and the silence ceased. Every so often, a sigh or a muffled cry would tear from your chest, and as much as Daniel didn’t want to get caught, the sound of your enjoyment was much more important to him.

Still, as he noticed your lack of poise, to spare you the embarrassment from the relentless teasing Sam would dish out, he raised one of his hands to your mouth, his large palm fitting nicely over your lips as his hips continued to move. You weren’t sure why the small action was so attractive to you, but the power he held over you in the moment. The pressure of his hand on your jaw mixed with the pulsing sensation that seemed to radiate through your entire body was nearly unbearable, and without and warning, your second orgasm washed over you and left you a mess beneath him, which was exactly what he wanted.

“There you go, sweet girl.” He whispered, his eyes squeezing shut to block out the sight of your blissful expression. He knew the longer he focused on it, the easier it would be to let go, and he wasn’t ready to end the moment just yet. “God, you take it so fucking well.” He complimented you as he continued to fuck you, the bed frame rocking and scratching against the expensive wood panelling below. There were marks all over the Airbnb, all over the small community on the outskirts of New York that would remain for eternity, reminders and memories of the love the two of you shared, haunting and beautiful all the same.

Not a single thing the two of you touched was left unscarred, seared with your heart and emboldened by your soul. Everywhere you looked, a trail of love was left behind, and you were sure even long after he left you would still be able to see the light he once brought to your life. Whether you were with him in Nashville or stuck by yourself in New York, the world was forever changed by his presence. You used to think it was for the worst, but now you knew how fantastic it was to have living reminders of the joy he brought to your life.

You would never regret loving him, and you would never forget what it felt like to do so. What he had done for you, the love he gave you and the warmth he casted upon you had permanently altered your brain and the world around you. It changed your life, the way you looked at yourself, and the way you looked at everyone else. It had given you the confidence to stand up for yourself, to learn and place boundaries, and to heal. You did the hard work, but having him there to hold your hand was the greatest gift you had ever received, the biggest motivation you had ever encountered.

Just knowing he existed made it so easy for you to want the best for you and him, whether that be together or apart. Knowing he existed gave you the strength to do the work you had been avoiding.

Being loved by him made it so much easier to stick to it, and to stand back up when you fell down rather than lay and wait for the worst to come.

You owed it not just to him, but to yourself, to continue to get better and be better. A better future was within reach, and you could almost taste the freedom that came along with it. You no longer wanted to stay dormant to protect the little peace you had left. You did not want to turn a blind eye to help or hope. You wanted to put in the effort, to hurt for reason instead of for nothing. You knew it would be hard work, but this time the struggle was worth it.

As you stared up at his face, overwhelmed with pleasure, you understood that you were completely, helplessly, utterly and irrevocably in love with the man before you. For the first time ever, you understood that there was no other way around it, and nothing else you wanted to be. Being his, loving him like so, spending your days with him, all seemed to be key to the life you had always craved.

“Can you cum one last time? For me?” He huffed out a breath, his tanned skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat as he continued to work at you. The summer sun and humidity pooling in through the open windows did not help your situation, but you had to admit it made him look even more ethereal than usual.

You managed a slight nod against the weight of his hand over your mouth, the desperation in your eyes sending him closer to the edge as his pace faltered for a moment. You couldn’t understand how it always felt so phenomenal, no matter what he did. Everything was all the more special when he was there with you, sharing the experience.

To help you get there, he slipped his free hand between your legs, the pad of his thumb settling over your clit as he traced circles into the sensitive bud. The feeling sent your abdomen tensing and your legs vibrating. As if you were addicted to him, to the euphoria of his touch, you craved it so desperately that it nearly made you sick to your stomach, feeling like you needed it to survive despite the fact it would be the very thing that would kill you.

The rawness of your throat as you cried out stung, but it barely phased you. The sounds slipping through your teeth and lips were muffled and silenced by the palm of his hand, the most noise in the room was the sound of skin on skin and his laboured breaths. The grating, irritating pleasure was invading every one of your senses, turning every thought to nothingness. As he looked down at you, fearful of missing a single second of your fucked out expression, you began to notice his own lack of composure, only holding on to get one last orgasm out of you before he allowed himself the opportunity, too.

“Come on, baby.” He urged, his warm brown eyes staring straight past any facade you tried to show the world, looking directly into your soul as he spoke. “Let go, make a fucking mess for me.” At the vulgarity of his statement, you felt your stomach lurch and goosebumps riddle your skin once more. A particularly loud noise escaped your lips, not even the palm of his hand able to lessen the intensity. You felt the pressure increase over your mouth as he faltered ever so slightly. You knew how badly he wanted to hear you, how he would cling to every sound and revel in every moment, but he knew better. “Be good for me, beautiful. Don't want anyone else to hear those slutty noises. They’re all for me.”

That seemed to be all you needed, your third and last orgasm leaving you a shell of yourself as it took over. Your body ached with pleasure, so painful yet enjoyable all the same. Your skin was aflame, your heart hurting as it pounded against your chest. Your mind was far away and when the feeling continued to burn, you almost believed you would ascend straight through the roof of not for his hands holding you close to him. Too worn out to even utter another word, your eyes fluttered closed as his hand remained on your mouth.

He wasn’t far behind you, the strength of his hold slackening immediately as you relaxed into the mattress. The warmth of his body comforted you as he spilled his release inside of you, a low groan followed by a long string of curses fell from his lips, filling all of your senses and making home in your bones. The rattle of his chest against your skin was addicting, intoxicating as he rested his weight on you to keep himself upright.

For a single moment, nothing else in the world existed aside from the beating of your hearts in time, connecting the two of you as one. Even if the moment would not last forever, the feeling would, the otherworldly sense of belonging that you had never experienced before him. You wondered how it was possible for him to show up out of the blue and change everything without even intending to do it, how it was possible for another person to mean so much to you without even knowing it.

You could feel the word dancing on the tip of your tongue, remembering how heavy and bitter it used to be when now it was nothing but sweet and tender.

You wanted to speak it, but you didn’t have enough breath in your lungs. Opting for the easier option, you leaned forward ever so slightly and placed a kiss to his nose, hoping yet again that the actions could speak louder than your words, hoping that he understood why you had such a hard time saying it, hoping he knew that you loved him more than everything and anything, even if you stayed silent more than you ever tried to speak out.

When a smile crossed his face and the softness of his lips landed on your cheek, peppering you with kisses until he eventually landed on your own lips, you knew without a doubt he understood exactly how you felt without you needing to say a word at all.

𓇢𓆸

July 27th, 2022 - 8:34 AM

Freshly showered and sporting one of Daniel’s cut-offs, you were far too focused on the way your shorts were sticking to your skin in the summer heat. Noticing a slight soreness in your hips as you adjusted the hem of them on your thighs, a pink blush dusted your cheeks. The sports bra under the skimpy shirt scratched against your skin, igniting every nerve in your body and leaving you on edge. You weren’t sure why or where it came from, but the urge to jump out of your own skin and run away was overwhelming.

Danny, always seeming to notice your bouts of anxiety and uncomfortableness, placed his hand on your knee as he took a bite of the breakfast Sam had made for everyone. Even the mere scrape of forks on plates as you all finished your meal made your stomach churn and your chest ache, making you wonder if this wellness walk was truly how you wanted to start your morning. Still, Daniel’s touch eased the rapidly growing feeling just enough for you to hold back your desire to cancel.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go on a walk with Sam, but simply the fact you knew you would be talking about a lot of things you’d prefer to keep quiet about. Opening up had gotten easier since you first met them, but it still wasn’t easy. There were a lot of things you hated speaking aloud, a lot of feelings you barely understood yourself, let alone expected another person to understand. You knew the two often said there was no judgement, but you couldn’t help but worry that they still would.

They didn’t know your life, they did not experience the things you did, and because of that, you knew they would never fully get it. They could try their best, listen to you for hours on end, and even cry alongside you, but it wasn’t the same. A sober heart trying to understand an addict's mind was a difficult and daunting challenge—you knew that no matter how understanding they were, there were always preconceived notions and ideas, even if they remained unspoken.

But, then again, he didn’t have to get it to love you, and he didn’t have to live it to know how it hurts and haunts you.

You were being a bit too harsh for someone who’s only ever tried to understand you.

All of the fears you had about Daniel knowing the truth, the conclusions he’d draw and the things he would think of you, never came to fruition because it was never even a possibility. You had made yourself believe some ludicrous and absurd assumptions simply because you could not comprehend loving yourself, but that did not mean that others were also lacking in that capability.

Since April, the two boys had only ever loved you, even when you could not figure out why. You could trust them, and you could rely on them. You could bare your soul to them and they would treat every secret with care and caution.

Fear had no place in this home, and you knew that for fact.

“You ready to head out, Utah?” Your eyes snapped up to the speaker, seeing Sam no longer sitting next to you, but across the island and placing his dirty plate in the sink. Blinking hard, you looked beside you to see Daniel was also finished eating and your plate was also empty.

Where did you go?

Your heart gave a dramatic thud against your chest, catching your breath and freezing it in your throat as you tried to exhale. Your palms were clammy, your cheeks red and the tips of your ears burning.

The emptiness sometimes grew so fast and so large that you didn’t even realize you were gone. You tunnelled so far down in your brain, caught on the jagged edges of worries and fears for so long that you couldn’t even feel the stab, nor did you notice the time that passed. It was a blunt and brutal switch back to reality, having to digest the fact that precious moments had passed you by without you even realizing it, and embarrassing to know you lost yourself so entirely.

Sometimes you wondered how much time you had lost throughout your life, stuck in an unearthly world that you couldn’t even quite categorize as hell. It was barren, empty, and echoing with all of your failures and losses, but it wasn’t suffering. It was bearable, comfortable and familiar. It was a place you went to when things became too much, whether for good or for bad. When you were there, the rest of the world was quiet, separate from you like you weren’t living amongst it at all.

“Yeah.” You nodded, quickly cutting off your train of thought so as not to get lost in it once again. “Yeah, let’s go.” You repeated yourself, seemingly trying to convince yourself to stand up straight and put one foot in front of the other. You were so willing to agree to his invitation the day prior, and you were angry with yourself for not harnessing that same courage now.

You hated the thought of them seeing you as an indecisive, skittish person who was scared of committing. Although you had been that way your entire life, you were desperate to prove you could conquer those fears and feelings, especially since meeting the two boys. You didn’t want to show those characteristics to them, for your faults to bear their teeth every time they got too close, but your entire life you had been a slave to the cycle, never able to change enough for it to matter. Back then, you didn’t care enough, but now you wanted everything to matter. You wanted to celebrate the small victories, because victories had never before been yours. No matter how small or ridiculous it seemed to be joyous for, you didn’t care.

As you stepped outside with Sam and Rose in tow, you understood that change was hurtling towards you at full force, and it was your choice whether to accept it or not.

Walking down the street, feeling the solid asphalt underneath the soles of your worn converse, you took a moment to reflect on your life, to find out what you truly wanted to tell Sam. As you did, you watched your surroundings as they passed you by, the bountiful green leaves on the trees, the birds chirping overhead, and the faded dead end sign that was on your right. There were few houses on the road, presumably other Airbnb’s as you considered their vacant driveways and dim interiors. Rose was just as busy sniffing the dandelions and the long grass bordering the road, also making the most out of your morning escape.

You placed the orange filter of a cigarette between your lips, lighting the end as you inhaled. Feeling your skin tingle and your stomach lurch, the morning activities no longer felt so dreadful. Closing your eyes and focusing on your feet moving forward, you began to wonder if there was a single thing in your life that you weren’t addicted to. Sometimes, even the sadness felt like a deadly desire, like if you were happy for too long you would die if you did not feel the weight on your chest again.

You were a strange person with odd ways of thinking that oftentimes got you into trouble and aided your poor decision making. You wondered if you would ever figure yourself out, if one day it would finally make sense and you could intervene before the habits took hold again. You believed that went hand in hand with your lack of self awareness, making it easy to revert to your usual way of living because you didn’t know yourself well enough to begin to recognize the issue or where it began.

“You’ve been awfully quiet this morning.” Sam noted, the sound of your footsteps echoing around you, louder than normal as you exhaled a cloud of grey smoke.

“Just… thinking.” You concluded, figuring it was the best way to explain your mental absence. “Trying to decide what to talk about.”

“Well, whatever feels right.” He shrugged, holding Rose’s leash a little tighter as she tried to run forward. “I’ve got all day.”

What felt right?

To you, nothing did.

Still, you figured the truth was long overdue, and you trusted Sam enough to let him know you completely. Keeping secrets got you nowhere, and after this long, it seemed obvious that he wasn’t looking for excuses to abandon you.

So, you believed it was time to rip the bandaid off.

As you looked over at him, noticing the softness of his features and the kindness in his eyes, the words got stuck in your throat and your eyes widened as you tried to choke them out.

Looking straight ahead, you felt your chest burn with embarrassment, wondering why it was always so hard to let people in.

Rip off the bandaid, Y/N.

“I’m an addict.” You blurted out, catching him off guard and causing him to look your way. It was not the words that mattered to him, but the fact that it felt like a confession rather than a conversation.

“Okay…?” He responded, a bit more quizzical than Daniel was, but still seemingly unphased.

“Recovering, obviously… but, yeah.” You wheezed, your chest tight and your head aching already. You always felt like you were physically ill when you experienced a surplus of heavy emotion. Sometimes, it got so bad you truly believed you might die from the sickness, even if logically you knew it wasn’t true.

“Can I ask you a question?” He spoke again, almost as if he barely acknowledged your words at all.

“Y-yeah.” You nodded, feeling your hand tremble as you raised your cigarette to your lips once more.

“Do you think we’re blind?” Instead of answering, you watched him with wide, shining eyes, waiting for him to continue. “The keytags are enough to tell us that, but your habits, Utah… your quirks. We know. We always have, and we never cared.”

One thing you always appreciated about Sam was his unapologetic attitude and his blunt nature.

Funny how he and Daniel had the same reaction, yet somehow it felt different. With Daniel, you felt loved—truly and genuinely, wholeheartedly and unconditionally for the first time in your entire life. With Sam, you felt seen. You weren’t just a person in his home, not an extension of his best friend who he had to interact with because he felt forced to. You were his friend, his family, someone he cared about enough to notice and cared about enough to not care at all.

You spend your entire life begging to be loved, and it hit you all at once in a million different forms.

Instead of running from it, feeling undeserving of it, you were living within it, surviving off it. You didn’t want to run and you did not want to forget—you wanted it to last forever, until the end of time and so abundantly that you never remembered what it felt like to never have it at all.

Their love wasn’t conditional, it had no expiration date, and it had no value to them aside from love itself. You could hurt and feel and be safe doing it. You could be a real person, with flaws and faults and trouble and they would still choose to stand by your side. You weren’t there just to serve them and their needs—they truly and undoubtedly wanted you there. More than that, they wanted to serve you in the same ways you did for them.

As fantastic as it felt, you could not deny how badly it hurt to feel such things for the first time, because it made you wonder why so little effort it took to care was always blasphemous to other people.

You knew deep down that it was because the ones that came before them were the wrong kind of people to bare your soul to, but it sucked even more to admit that.

You didn’t want to live a life constantly choosing the wrong things, constantly putting faith in people who would only let you down. You wanted to love Sam and Daniel the way they loved you, properly, but you had no idea how. You hated that the ones who wronged you left you unable to love the ones who deserved it, because standing beside a man you could confidently say was the best friend you ever had, all you wanted to do was love.

“It’s funny, you know.” You cleared your throat, the scratch of smoke bringing tears to your eyes (at least, that’s what you wanted to blame them on). “Spent my whole life with that burden, feeling like it made me this… unlovable monster. That nobody would ever want me around, that it made me lesser than everyone else. I wondered if the only friends I would ever have would also be addicts, because nobody else in the world wanted to try and understand… then you guys come along, and you just don’t care.” You almost laughed as you spoke the thought aloud, a sad smile stuck on your lips as your vision blurred. It felt like all you had done in the last few weeks was cry, but you felt lighter than ever. You felt free. All of the shit you were holding on to, that you had kept under lock and key for so long, was finally coming out all at once.

You used to dread the thought of it, but now that you were living it, you knew it was never as scary as you made it out to be.

“Don’t say it like that, Utah.” He chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “We care, just not the way you think we do.”

“No, it’s a good thing, Sam.” You laughed, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt tears drip down your face. “My whole life, I’ve always been too much. Too troublesome, too broken, too… whatever. To you guys, I’m just a person. Maybe one who made some mistakes, but just a person, just like everyone else. Do you know how good it feels to be just that? Not an addict, not bad, not anything?”

“You are something, though.” He shot back, cool and calm as a small smile crossed his lips. “You’re my friend. You’re his girlfriend. You’re more than just something, Utah. To some people, you’re everything.” He continued, the two of you now treading towards the walking trail that began when the road came to an end. “It’s not a bad thing to be something to someone.”

“It always has been before, so I guess it’s hard to let that go.” You shrugged, watching your step as you avoided stray rocks and twigs in the ground.

“Well you have us.” He replied, curt and short as he got his point across. “And your brothers. I’m sure you mean a hell of a lot more than just something to them.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” You mumbled, noticing the tickle of long grass on your ankles. It was a freeing feeling, giving you the sense that you belonged to the earth rather than being enslaved by it. “Think I was always a headache to them more than anything else. Spent their whole lives taking care of me, running after me to try and keep me out of trouble, cleaning up all of the messes I made. Instead of thanking them I went out and did it again. I feel that sometimes they thought of me as an obligation, like they had to help me because nobody else would.”

“Y/N,” Sam sighed, wishing he could help you see things the way the rest of the world did. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this lifetime, it’s that nobody is obligated to do anything. You can tell the difference between love and resentment, and it’s not a hard line to draw.”

“I guess I’ve always been afraid of them hating me for what I put them through. I’m afraid of that with anyone, but especially them. I think since moving here, it’s gotten so hard to draw any lines because I never see them and I barely speak to them. The longer I stay away, the easier it is to think that I mean less to them than I actually do, you know?” At that, he seemed to freeze in his tracks, his eyebrows furrowed and the corners of his lips dipped downwards in a frown. “What?”

“Can you… explain that again? I just want to make sure that I understand what you mean.” You swallowed thickly, your skin prickling with fear as you realized he really didn’t know what you meant or how you felt. The thought of being isolated, alienated, for a feeling you believed to be normal, made your stomach twist in knots and the hairs on the back of your neck raise.

You spent your whole life wanting to fit in, and it hurt catastrophically to think that you were just different. That no matter how hard you tried, your wires were crossed and the people around you would never truly know how it felt to be you. You knew Sam had no malicious intent, no desire to make you feel inferior, but you hated talking about your feelings for that exact reason; you never felt right, you never felt whole. No matter how understanding or how open the one listening was, it always reminded you of the very things you desperately wanted to forget.

“I-it’s okay, I—“

“Utah, I just want to know. It’s okay for us to not understand each other. It’s okay to tell me.” He cut you off, already seeing where the conversation would leave the two of you if he did not.

“Yeah.” You breathed, giving a curt nod to try and convince yourself that. “I-I guess, it just… when I’m away from people I love, or have a relationship with, no matter how good things were where we left it, it’s so easy to forget that. Like as soon as they’re out of sight, so is that love. It’s hard to believe they care or love me if they’re not right beside me, or if I can’t see it or feel it. Even if I know logically it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t matter—I need that reassurance, the validation, or it’s just… gone. I thought everyone felt that way.” Your voice was solemn as you concluded your statement, staring off into the distance as you watched a squirrel scale a tree. The world seemed so simple sometimes, like there were still places where hurt had not touched, lives that it had not changed. You wished so badly to be in one of those places someday, surrounded by serenity and forgetting the bitter taste of memories and the constant ache.

“No, not everyone feels that way, but that’s okay. I can tell you for sure that you’re not the only one who feels that way.” He replied, slowing so Rose could sniff the bloomed wildflowers.

“Yeah,” you hummed, watching the toes of your converse stick into the loose dirt below. “I guess I just don’t know what it is or why I feel this way.” He stayed silent for a moment, his lips pursed ever so slightly as he thought of a proper response.

“I can’t tell you why, but I think it is fixable.” He eventually spoke, soft and gentle like he wanted to ensure you believed him. “You’re a smart girl… you probably know what object permanence is, right?”

“Like, for babies? When they don’t know an object exists if they can’t see it?”

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded, resuming his earlier pace when Rose picked up hers. “‘Cept it’s not just for babies. It’s a super common problem for people with ADHD. Put your keys down in a certain spot so it reminds you to run an errand, go in your bedroom to get changed, get distracted by a notification on your phone, it reminds you that you have to call your mom, and by the time you hang up, the keys don’t even exist in your mind anymore and neither does the errand.” He explained, motioning with his hand as he spoke. You have a small chuckle, always finding Sam and his quirks endearing.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, there’s ways to help that. Maybe not necessarily cure it, but make it easier to deal with.” You hummed in agreement, giving permission for him to keep talking. “Just like objects, there’s this thing called relationship permanence. To me, it sounds like you struggle with it.”

“So, like the same thing but with people?” You had never heard the term before, mostly because you never realized it was a problem that needed fixing. You thought it was just you.

“Exactly.” He smiled. “And that is something that you can fix. Object permanence is a little bit more complicated, but relationship permanence has a lot to do with trust and communication and commitment. I know you struggle with those, but it’s not a dead end. Those are things you can work on, in therapy or even on your own time.”

“How would I even begin to work on that?” You asked, knowing he didn’t have all of the answers but so badly wishing he did. You wanted to change, to get better and to heal, to move forward, but most of the time you had no idea where to start. It was the most discouraging element of all, and it seemed impossible to overcome. Every time you started to improve on something, you uncovered a million more things that needed to be tended to. It seemed like it would never end.

“Well, I think a good place to start is your emotional regulation. You talked to me a few times about how hard it is for you to stay stationary. Your emotions cycle so fast you don’t have much of a chance to process it, and it affects the way you see everything around you. I think when you finally feel stable and get used to it, that will help a lot, too.”

“So basically it won’t get better until I heal from all of the other shit?” You laughed, your discouraged eyes tipping him off and giving him a bit more insight to your inner thoughts.

“Not necessarily, Utah.” He soothed the worry, sending a soft smile over his shoulder so you knew you did not have to face this alone. “In my opinion, you’ve already done a hell of a lot better with it. At least with Daniel, and I hope with me, too.”

“You really think so?” You weren’t sure why he thought so, because all you could ever focus on was the things you were doing wrong, the stuff you wished to do better with. Not once had you really acknowledged how far you had come with your ability to trust and your ability to love openly.

“Absolutely.” He laughed to himself, reminiscing on the version of you he met so long ago. Looking at the woman that stood next to him now, the difference was irrefutable. “The girl I knew in the spring, the one I sat with at the park, she’s long gone I think. She was nervous and defensive, she liked us but she certainly didn’t trust us. She didn’t want anyone around, but she needed someone.” Your heart hurt as he spoke, all of his observations so truthful that it made your head spin. At the same time, it amazed you to know that even back then both of them cared enough to see you, to hear you, and most importantly, to know you. “I don’t see that girl anymore, Y/N, and when I do, it’s not the same.”

“I still feel like her.” You confessed, searching your pockets for your lighter as you placed another cigarette between your lips. “How is it possible for us to come so far yet never be able to see the progress we’ve made? I always feel like the same version of myself stuck in a new body. A little older, not much wiser, but a lot more tired.”

“It’s the human curse.” He shrugged, knowing exactly how you felt even if he could not relate to the same things. “That’s why friends are so important. We’re here to remind you of how far you’ve come, and we’re here to help you back up if you fall down again.”

“I always feel so guilty when you say stuff like that. It’s unfair for me to lean on you, it’s not your responsibility—“

“It’s not our responsibility, no.” Sam cut you off again, seemingly unable to endure your rants and ravings about being undeserving. “Loving people is not the same as obligation, Utah. And I know, without a doubt, you would do that and more for both of us. Do you know what is unfair, though?”

“Hmm?” You hummed the response, knowing the answer he would give would not sit right with you, but he was bound to say it anyway.

“You, loving people with everything you’ve got, but never getting anything back. You, loving people no matter if they deserve it or not, no matter how poorly they treat you, yet still believing you’re the one who doesn’t deserve it.” Your stomach gave a nervous twist when you thought too long about his words. Having spent so long ignoring the many people who refused to return the effort that you poured into them, the ones who threw your kindness back in your face, hearing it now and having no choice but to acknowledge it made your heart hurt.

“S’pose it is a bit unfair.” You whispered, your eyes glued to the ground as you continued to walk down the trail.

“You’re doing so good, Y/N. You’ve come so far. Don't let what happened at that diner set you back again. Vincent is… he does not speak for your character.” He cut himself off, a stony expression on his face as he tried to speak cautiously. “He does not stand for the truth. He only cares about what fits his narrative. You are so much more than you think you are, and you always have been. Utah, it never mattered to us who you were or what you’ve done. We can see who you’re trying to be, who you really are, and she is fucking fantastic.”

“Sam,” your stomach gave another anxious lurch, your eyes blurred with tears once more.

“No, Utah.” He shook his head. “I’m tired of you never letting us tell you how much you mean to us. Maybe, if someone had the courage to tell you a long time ago, you would be able to see it too. I’m not scared of it, and neither is he. We love you, and we want you around. We want to help you, and we don’t care how long it takes. You’re worth the effort, and you’re worth the time. These things you struggle with, they don’t make you a bad person, and you can heal from them. It seems impossible sometimes, or too hard or not worth it, but you don’t have to do it alone. It makes it all the more easier when you have someone to lean on.”

Silence filled the air, neither of you making a peep aside from your occasional sniffle and Rose’s half-hearted barks at the birds in the sky and rustling leaves. Your footsteps were heavy, in time with your heart and pounding in your ears as his words bounced against your skull. You wanted to believe him so badly, to take all of his thoughtful statements and impactful comments and use it as motivation, but in some strange way, it seemed to deter you from the desired goal.

Disappointment.

It was your biggest fear, your largest enemy. Before Sam and Danny came along, nobody loved you enough for you to have to care, but now? Letting them down haunted you. Knowing it would be so easy to do, almost without a second thought. Fucking up and making the wrong decisions had become your specialty, but it never mattered. Thus far, the only person you had to disappoint was yourself (and your brothers, but with them being so far away, they did not have to witness you destroying your own life any longer). Now, knowing two of the best people you had ever met were counting on you, rooting for you, cheering you on, it all seemed so much more serious. Having the freedom to mess up was something you cherished, because you did it so often. Now, you were constantly scared of losing them, terrified that the wrong thing would make them change their minds and run away.

For someone who had specialized in running, you were awfully afraid of someone else doing the same thing to you.

Finally, karma seemed to come back and bite you in the ass.

“We’re not going anywhere, Y/N.” Almost as if he could read your mind, he eased your racing heart and screaming mind with just a single sentence.

“I really hope not.” You gave a sad smile, hoping he understood how badly you wanted them to stick around. You had been afraid of forever your entire life, but with them by your side, it didn’t seem so bad. “I love you guys, more than I ever thought I was capable of loving another person. In my head, that’s not always a good thing, ‘cause it means you have this power over me, and it scares the shit out of me. You can leave whenever you want, you can say or do whatever you want… and I just have to accept it. I’m not used to people being this close.”

“You are, though.” He disagreed with your words, but not rudely. You were certain that nothing he could do would ever be considered rude or offensive. “Vincent had that power over you, but you don’t see it as the same thing because he always used it for bad anyway. Not even in the worst case scenario, not even in a million years would we ever do that to you, Utah. Not even close to it.”

You weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of it that way before, but he was right. Power meant little when used correctly, and the only reason it scared you so was because you were used to people abusing it. Knowing the two boys, even in the little time you had spent together, you knew for certain they would never do such things.

“I love you, Sam.” For the second time in two days, the words that you spent most of your life avoiding slid out with little thought or effort. You seemed to be able to tell Sam with no issue, and you hoped that you soon would be able to say the same things to Danny with the same relaxed nature.

“I love you, Y/N.” He replied, smiling to himself as he understood he finally made the difference. The whole time he had known you, he and Danny both just wanted to say something that would help, do a single thing that might change your perspective even just for a moment, but as you walked down the trail he knew it was never as simple as a single instance. What you needed was consistency, not grand gestures. You responded best to routine, to familiarity—all they had to do was stick around for long enough that it felt most normal to be with them.

It was never you that was the problem, but everyone else that came before the two boys. They had hurt you so badly that you couldn’t believe anyone else wouldn’t want to do the same. Now that you had spent enough time with them, you could finally see that what they were telling you was the truth.

“You feel better?” He asked, his voice barely cutting through nature's ambience.

“Yeah, I do.” Honesty was not hard in this instance, and although you hit a lot of topics that normally made you want to hide from the world, you did feel better just from addressing them. You knew there was a lot of talking still to be done, but it didn’t seem as hard anymore. You knew when the time came it might feel a little different, but right now you wanted to enjoy the feeling while it lasted. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Didn’t do a whole lot.” He brushed off the thanks and continued on his path, both of you watching as Rose picked up a stick from the ground to bring along with her.

“You do way more than you know.” You replied, not willing to back down on the matter. With that, he slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a side-hug that satiated the near constant ache in your chest for a moment. “I’m really happy I met you guys.”

“We feel the same way.” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze before pulling away, happy to have made some kind of impact on you. “And just so you know, I come out here every morning, so if you ever need a minute away from the real world…” he trailed off, extending the invitation as relaxed as possible. You gave a small giggle, watching as the leaves swayed in the blowing wind.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” With that, another bout of silence took hold, but it was neither uncomfortable nor painful. Existing alongside Sam was a fantastic way to waste your time, and you already knew you wouldn’t mind tagging along with him whenever he was willing.

“Actually, while I have you out here, I have one more thing I wanted to say.” Sam cut through the silence, looking in your direction with an unfamiliar gleam in his eye.

“Floors all yours, Sammy boy.” You gave him the invitation to continue, only slightly nervous for what he might confess. With that, he slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small card and looking over the glossy finish. Then, he extended his arm towards you, offering you the opportunity to take a look at it too. Carefully, you grabbed it out of his fingers, unsure of what exactly you were looking at until you read the words twice over.

Dr. Amanda Collins | Psychologist

8150 19 E 44th St, 15th Floor, New York, NY 10017, US

Below her name and address, there was a phone number to contact. On the top of the card, there was a circled date and time, written in Sam’s familiar scrawl that could not be mistaken. “August 3rd at 10AM?” You asked, your fingers shaking ever so slightly as you held the card up to read it again. “What’s this for?”

“Well, it’s for you.”

“Sam, absolutely not.” You shook your head, the motion violent, scattering your already rapid thoughts across your brain. “I can’t afford that. I appreciate the thought, but I can’t.”

“You can.” He reasoned, ignoring you as you tried to give him back the business card. “You don’t have to worry about money—it’s already covered. I just want you to go and try it out, see if it’s something that would help. If not, we can look for something or someone else, but it’s a good place to start.” You were sure your heart shattered into a million pieces, each sharp point and jagged edge stabbing you as you breathed in his kindness. It was an utterly selfless and unbelievably beautiful gesture, but it hurt so badly you thought you might die from it.

“I-I can’t let you do this for me, Sam. It’s so kind of you, but it’s to much. I-I just can’t.” You stressed, your palms clammy and your stomach sick.

“You can.” He repeated, unwilling to discuss it any further. “It’s already paid for and the appointment is set—you might as well go and check it out. Non-refundability and whatnot.” You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling the erratic beat of your heart nearly knock you off your feet.

Never in your entire life had someone cared so deeply. He cared so much that he would spend the money to get you help, that he would carry whatever burden came along with you, without struggle and without complaint. It was astounding, nearly debilitating to have a friend that loved you as much as you loved them.

“Seriously, Utah. It’s no big deal. Don’t do your thing and get all… whatever. Just go next week and tell me what you think. That’s enough thanks for me.” Staring over at him, still in awe at his unwavering love and determination to see you heal, you gave a gentle nod, slipping the card in your pocket for safe keeping.

“Yeah, alright.” You swallowed back the surplus of arguments and rebuttals trying to make their way to the surface, opting to listen to his words and take them at face value. If he was willing to to through all of this to help, you at least owed it to him to be receptive.

“If you want me to take you, I can… or Daniel, or both of us. Hell, if you want to go by yourself I’ll find you a way there and back, but I want you to go. And don’t do that deflection thing either, or make it seem like it’s not as bad as it really is. She doesn’t know you and she’s literally paid to help you. Use it to your advantage, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, gaining your footing with reality once more. If he thought it would help, you wanted to give it a shot. His opinion mattered greatly to you, and you trusted his judgment way more than you ever trusted your own, which in itself brought you to your next question. “How do you know so much about this stuff?” At that, he chuckled, knowing it would be brought up eventually.

“My brothers have ADHD, so I grew up and was always very committed to figuring out their brains. I have my own problems, too. We all do, Utah, even if some people try to hide it or do a better job at keeping it quiet. There’s no shame in needing help.”

There’s no shame in needing help.

God, you wished someone had told you that a long time ago.

“You’re right.” You breathed, still feeling your skin tingle with the after effects of his kindness. “I’ll give it a shot. Can’t do any harm, right?”

“Right.” He agreed, happy that you drew the same conclusion.

The conversation died down again, both of you left with lots of things to ponder on before you convened for the next morning walk. As the silence began to consume you yet again, you couldn’t help but notice that for once, the ever present and growing sense of emptiness had fled for a moment, not returning even when the conversation was laid to rest. For the first time in your entire life, you felt perfectly right and well, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be, doing exactly what you needed to do. Looking at the boy walking beside you, you knew that you never would have felt such divine rightness and comfortability without him or his best friend.

That fateful day at the Foxhole, hiding behind a wall and sneaking glances at two boys you never thought you would meet, you never once imagined you would be where you were then. Not once did you think better was in the cards, let alone so close.

And as if it were a day meant for firsts, you looked back on the things that led you there, finally able to take the tainted glasses off and view it with gratitude rather than resentment. You could see all of the gained confidence, the strength and the power your struggles had given you, and you finally had a chance to utilize them, rather than curse the events that gave you useless tools.

Finally, after twenty four years, the sun was shining again—instead of hiding from it, you were willingly and happily living to feel it, wanting to appreciate the warmth instead of run from it, to enjoy the moment while it lasted instead of being angry that it was fleeting.

Finally, the world was turning, and instead of it leaving you still and behind, you were turning with it.

TAGLIST: @imleavingyoufornewyork @itsafullmoon @bladenotblaze @jessicafg03 @peaceloveunitygvf @torniturntomyarrow @lostoverseer @clairesjointshurt @jordie-gvf @lallisonl @smoking-jakelane @gretavangirlie @hollyco @aintthatapity @dont-go-home-without-me @dyslexicchild13 @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama

[hazeleyedbutterfly]

What IF ... TW: Violence

So after fighting my anxiety and self doubts for a few days, I am finally creating a post in which I will share with you a WHAT IF scenario for Nathaniel's route in MyCandyLove.

As we all know our beloved blondie sometimes gets the worst of it in his storyline, suffering through a lot. The drama!

Since we got some angst in Campus Life, yup I am referring to the time he was stabbed by the gang members. I believe there could have been much more depth into that storyline OR the fact that he becomes a police officer later on. Beemoov could have done so much more with the storyline in Love Life.

I am sure I am not the only one on here that has been wondering about a scenario where Candy gets hurt either by the gang members or finds herself in the middle of a mass shooting, since when it comes to Nathaniel she always jumps in to save him. At least during High School and Campus Life she did. I wish we had that in Love Life a little more as well, in my opinion we had too little of it. And instead had a lot of other drama going on. (I will wholeheartedly disregard the whole "cheating" plot because...NOPE)

So here goes nothing. A little warning, I am not an English native speaker so there might be some grammar errors. Please have mercy with me. This little scene just popped into my head as an idea or inspiration while writing my Fanfiction.

Enjoy! Feel free to share your own thoughts on scenarios like this.

Xo Haz~

TW: Violence

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ 

I can taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth as my knees buckle, and I collapse to the floor. The stabbing pain courses through my body, leaving me gasping for air. 

“NO!” Nathaniel's agonizing scream jolts me back to reality. As I look down at myself, I notice how my shirt is already smeared with blood. 

I had been shot. Holy fuck, I had been shot!? 

The commotion in the room fades into the background as strong arms wrap around my waist, lifting me off the ground. The faint scent of cologne briefly masking the smell of blood. I gaze up and meet Nathaniel's amber eyes, I wish I hadn't. The pain in his expression overwhelms me. He looks at me as if his life depends on it, as if he might die if I do. His face is bruised, and my blood stains his clothes. 

"Nath...", I croak. 

"You'll be okay. I promise. I've got you," he whispers. 

He carries me away from the ongoing shooting, and I close my eyes, resting my cheek against his chest. He's breathing heavily.

Seconds later, I feel the cool breeze on my face as I open my eyes and gaze up at the night sky, filled with countless stars. It's a beautiful sight. 

“Keep your eyes open. I need you to stay with me, baby," Nath pleads, the desperation in his voice tearing at my heart. 

I touch his cheek, and he takes a tight breath, conveying so much with his eyes that I have to look away. Feeling hot, cold, and unsteady, I find solace in his embrace. He holds me tightly, one arm around my back, rubbing it to warm my skin. Then he kisses me and whispers, "I love you." Over and over, his lips trail across my temples, cheeks, and jaw as he repeats those three words. 

"I love you too. Always" I say, gripping his back as if to freeze this moment in time. The thought of possibly dying in his arms, with my last words being "I love you," feels oddly serene. 

Sirens approach, and unfamiliar faces gather around us. Nath barks orders to them while I gaze at his beautiful features one last time. With all the strength I can muster, I brush my fingers gently along his jawline, trying to etch this image into my memory forever. The stars in the sky seem to surround him like a halo. Then everything goes pitch black. 

 ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ 

[the-white-soul]

*Flowey looks at the souls everyone is being offered with wide eyes. He’s practically shaking with excitement. When would be the next time he gets an opportunity like this? Why doesn’t he just take all of the rest? It’d be quick. No one would be able to stop him. His vines are itching to grab everything for himself and let himself go mayhem. He reaches forth slowly, almost mesmerized, and…*

*Takes a single red soul.*

*He’s squeezing it tightly like a stress ball, seeming to be in disbelief. It’s not disappearing in his clutch or anything. And there’s no cache. Flowey absorbs it readily.* Really? This is mine? This… this is amazing.

*He suppresses his form to stay exactly the same once he takes it, hiding his power completely.* Heeheehee! We wouldn’t want those meanies to suspect us now, do we? We need to appear casual and then hit them with surprise. Of course only if they attack us first, yeah, yeah. Then Noelle’s Snowgrave can be used specially for our buddy Clover!

*He chuckles and taunts Noelle a bit condescendingly.* It’s okay, you don’t have to do any more than that. Just sit back and let your abilities charge while the others do everything else. Poor Noelle, only able to fire one attack before she’s done… Golly, really makes me wonder where all that high talk comes from!

Heh… anyway, these souls don’t have consciousnesses, do they? I don’t need anyone talking to me in my head or fighting back, and I’m sure no one else wants that either.

(Kara) "Oh thankfully not. They can rebel if mistreated unless you have seven which is why being a god is more important than just getting 6 souls but if they're used correctly they'll be fine. Anyways let's go to the sur... wait how are we going to get up there. Lesser dog is dead."

(Mo) "Ya think that's the only way I've invented a new invention..."

(Noelle) "Why are you repeating yourself?"

(Mo) "I can tell your little police girl here is the type of the grammar. You want true new things look at my new invention I call it two sticks and 100 bars. Or as my friends call it 200 bars."

(Noelle) "That's litteraly a ladder."

(Mo) "And for yer kind, I'll be generous. 8000 g."

(Papyrus) "But I'm the king shouldn't I get..."

(Mo) "You're right. I forgot to add king taxes 90000 g."

(Undyne) "*Has a spear to his throat* Listen either I get it now or I take it by force."

(Mo) "Really, threats don't work on me. Well except the time old Cloves went ahead and robbed me for no reason. This is just my way to get back to the top. To be a big shot."

(Kara) "Fine we'll take it *Gives the g's* but only because you came up with the excellent idea to put guns in pies."

(Mo) "Great here you go. Mo out."

*He runs up and out of sight*

(Kara) "Why is he so cool?"

(Noelle) "Let's just get to the ladder."

(Kara) "Oh right everyone up one by one."

*Meanwhile at the omega dimension*

(Layer)"I hope they're having a good time."

(Arak) "Yes they will, won't they? They'll win the day and prove me right."

(Layer) "What?"

(Arak) "Some people are beyond saving. By the time they slaughter Clover while Clover is evil I'll go down there and kill all of them."

(Layer) "Not if I..."

Arak punches them in the face 15 times. Layer can't feel pain so it doesn't bother them as a player but as there character grew weak they could feel they have less and less control.

(Arak) "You know what I've got a better idea, if they prove me right I'll punch you until you disconnect. If they do redeem Clover I'll personally apologize."