#that's right everyone y'all have to suffer through this again

[rueclfer]

casual // touya todoroki part 3

when the boy you're in love with wants to keep it casual

a/n: so much happening in this one sorryy i just wanted to nicely wrap it all up lmao i need more soft touya/dabi content plssss i love u dabi fuckers but ur all so horny! <3 thank u everyone who was on ur knees begging for touya to suffer i hope i delivered.

part one part two

It had been about a couple of weeks since your outbursts at Touya's apartment. Since then, it's been eerily silent outside of the usual city noises- you couldn't even hear his footsteps at night anymore. For the first few days, you were living on eggshells around your apartment complex. Your window stayed locked with the curtain drawn, music would continuously be playing throughout your living room to mask any type of noise, and you rarely left your front door.

You were in a constant state of battle between your brain and your heart, but had ultimately accepted the demise of your relationship with Touya. After several "pep talks" with Toga, and her berating you to "stand the fuck up" and to get yourself together, the hope that you clutched onto slowly began to falter as the days went by.

"Like, look at this. Does this look fucking casual to you? " You whine to Toga, while scrolling through the messages Touya had been sending you since that night. She looked at you with sadness in her eyes.

"It pains me to see you this way. Him too." She pouts. "He has his reasons to not want anything serious, and maybe once his chokehold on you is gone, y'all can rationally talk about it, but PLEASE, Y/N, you're killing yourself by overthinking everything about your relationship with him."

You knew she was right, but you were still allowed to be bitter about it all. The universe seemed to enjoy the melancholic energy in your apartment as well as your sulking. Even with all of the windows closed, you could hear the storm coming down loud and clear.

You stood by your window for a moment, debating if you should open the curtains and enjoy the weather, or keep it shut to protect your peace from potential disturbance.

How much longer will I hide in this apartment from him?

You slowly draw the curtains back, revealing the melted gray skyline of the city, swallowed whole by fog and pelting rain. You open your window, and step out to sit on your windowsill, letting a gust of chilled wind sweep past your bare face. You take a deep breath of the cold air, savoring this solitude for a moment.

You had been properly ghosting him for a couple weeks now. You weren't sure what you would say to him when you would eventually run into him or decide to finally talk it out.

Something that worried you even more, was when you would eventually start going out with your mutual friend group again. Toga assures you that it would be fine, and that no one caught wind of everything that happened between you two, but that wasn't your main concern. You weren't so sure if you could pretend to be on normal terms with him anymore, especially in front of a crowd. The thought of having to continue pretending in front of him and everyone made your skin crawl with anxiety.

The scent of burnt tobacco in the air mixed in with the aroma of wet pavement emanating from the earth below pulled you out of thought.

You look up to see Touya leaning up against the railing of the fire escape with a cigarette in between his fingers, looking off into the city.

You take in a sharp inhale of air and snap your gaze forward, trying to find anything on the street to distract yourself. Maybe he didn't notice you, but his presence alone was enough to stop your breathing.

It's been two weeks, no contact, barely a glance. Do you end this now? Or do you try to silently crawl back into your apartment and pretend like you never saw him? You could just start with a "hey" or something. You asked yourself what would Toga tell you to do in this situation.

"What 'cha been up to?" He suddenly breaks the silence. "First time breathing fresh air in a minute?"

You purse your lips and glance back up to see him exhaling slowly and letting the tendrils of the smoke dissipate into the dark clouds, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

Fuck.

"The usual." You say, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. "And no, I've been out and about."

Which was a lie.

There was an extended moment of silence. You almost guessed that he went back inside, but you didn't dare look up to check.

"You haven't responded to my texts." He cautiously says. "It's been a while, you know?"

"I know."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"I don't really know what to say."

Another beat of silence.

"Can I come down?" He asks.

You glance up and meet your eyes with his, causing your stomach to knot.

"Sure." You sigh.

You guess you'd rather get it over with than let the anticipation of it sit in the back of your head for much longer.

He sat on the ground across from you, letting his back rest against the rails. He offers his cigarette to you, which you willingly took for the nerves.

You two sat in silence for a moment while you soaked up each other's presence, occasionally passing the cigarette back and forth.

"I fucking hate you." You finally say.

"Okay."

"But I love you, which is worst."

It felt like there was a sudden shift in the pressure on your shoulders now that you've said those words to his face, sober, calm, and intentionally. You felt more confident speaking about it.

"For our whole arrangement or whatever this is, I've always wanted some part of you that you couldn't give me. None of that was your fault, but I'm not sorry for it."

"You shouldn't be-" He starts.

"But." You cut him off, meeting his eyes. "I am sorry for how it came out. I didn't mean to villainize you when we weren't in a relationship, and we didn't establish anything. You don't owe me that just because I caught feelings."

He took a moment to make sure you were done speaking, in which you motioned him to continue.

"Okay, well, yeah you shouldn't be sorry for your feelings. Ever. And I never wanted you to have to pent it to this point, you know? I wish you could have told me about it sooner, but I get why you didn't."

"You knew I liked you." You cock an eyebrow. "You told me that night."

He sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "Well yes, and no. I found out you had an inkling of a crush, but that was when we first met way before we started doing this and it never came up again, so I didn't think anything of it. I seriously never thought it developed into... something more."

"I guess it's my fault that it exploded out like that. I just hoped that it would sizzle out. I wasn't ever planning on telling you, honestly. "

"At all?" His eyebrows furrowed in hurt.

"Would it have changed anything?" You cock an eyebrow. "We'd still be having this conversation."

"What was your plan then? If you weren't going to tell me?" He bitterly says, suddenly upset. "Wait for me to notice? Return the feelings? C'mon now, Y/N, you're better than that."

Ouch.

"Better than that?" You scoff. "Okay, then tell me Touya, one night I'm in your bed and we're rubbing noses, kissing, we're laughing together, and it suddenly comes out. 'Touya, I really like being with you like this, and you make me feel like a better person. I only want you. Let's be together.' What would you say?"

He pressed his lips together, suddenly quiet.

"If I'm so great, don't you think I deserve to hear it back from someone who feels the same?" You take a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in until your lungs burn. "Why would I put us in that situation when we both know you wouldn't be able to say it back?"

"Y/N, I didn't mean it like that. Of course you deserve it. You deserve it more than anyone." His voice falters. "It's all really complicated in my head right now, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wished you didn't let me hurt you like this. I genuinely do consider you to be a best friend of mine, and I care for you, so much. You know that right?"

You roll your eyes. "Duh, I know that. I've accepted this unrequited love for a while now. There were just some friend aspects that made the romantic aspects made sense and everything else confusing. Your siblings, visiting your mom with you, all of our talks- it just made things complicated, and not so.. casual."

"I'm sorry." He mutters. "About everything."

"I'm sorry, too."

After a second, you reach your hand out to him, in which he didn't hesitate to grab back. You didn't have much more to say, but this last physical exchange said it all.

I forgive you. I care about you. Take care of yourself. Don't be a stranger. I love you.

You couldn't help but sadly smile at this. This was the end of your entanglement with him, as long and messy as it was, you still hoped that he could someday meet someone to fall headfirst into- the same way you did for him.

"We're still friends?" You silently asked.

"Don't be stupid." He releases his hand from your grasp and lightly swats at your arm. "Of course we are. And neighbors, so terrorize me any time you want, and I'll do the same."

"Deal."

-

"So you don't like him anymore?" Toga asks, kicking her legs back and forth as she sits on the bathroom sink counter while Kurogiri goes at your hair with kitchen shears.

"I'll always love him, but I don't feel like I need to mourn what could've been with him anymore. We're fine, we've talked, and we're still friends. That's all I can really ask for." You shrug.

"And your hair? What's all this for, then?" You motions to your hair.

"Can't I just want a haircut?" You roll your eyes.

"Hair holds energy." Kurogiri suddenly says. "Cutting a significant amount off signifies an acceptance of change and the turning over of a new leaf."

"Exactly. Thank you, Kuro." You beam. "You get it. It's my symbolism for moving on, or some shit like that."

Another couple of weeks have passed since your last chat with Touya. You had seen each other in passing, and you've hung out at each other's apartment with the others. You were grateful that it all felt semi-normal. Everytime you were in a room together, you felt that there will always be a twinge of magnetism in your fingertips that's going to want to grab him and pull him towards you, but lately, you've been obedient and refraining yourself from getting too close.

"Your hair is so cute, I want mine short like yours now!" Toga pouts, fiddling with snipped lockets of your hair.

"You would hate short hair." You say matter-of-factly. "You wouldn't be able to put your hair in braids or buns anymore."

"I guess you're right." She murmurs. "You sure you don't want to go out with us?"

Kurogiri and Toga were preparing to meet up with Jin at the bar on your street. Of course they thought if they ambushed you at your apartment, they could drag you with them, but they couldn't have been more wrong.

"I'm sure. Be safe and let me know if you need to crash here or something, okay? Thank you Kuro, for the cut." You squeeze both of them in for a hug before ushering them out.

"Don't kiss any randoms, drink water, and slow the fuck down when drinking." You warn her. "Kuro, don't get in a fight, and tell her to fuck off if she makes you carry her home again."

He shoots you a thumbs up. "If you change your mind, you can always meet us there."

After the door shuts behind them, a long sigh escapes your lips. It was a Saturday night and you had no plans other than sweeping up the hair off your floor. On nights like these, you would usually be spending it with Touya, but things have changed now, and you were still avoiding spending one-on-one time with him like the plague.

As you start putting away the kitchen shears used to chop your hair, your phone goes off.

"Tenko?" You set the phone on speaker, continuing to sweep the ground.

"Please God, are you home?" He asks frantically.

"Yes? What's wrong?" His tones stop you in your tracks.

"We're upstairs. Dabi and Spinner can't handle their weed and are too fucking high. I need help before I start beating the shit out of them."

You deadpan. He's asking you to babysit on a Saturday night. You may be lonely, but not enough to have to deal with a few idiots who were on another planet.

But it would give you a reason to see Touya.

You missed him, but you had spent enough sleepless nights crying into your pillow about your loss. You still weren't sure if you missed pretending to be his, or the friendship you had prior to your confession. This inner conflict only drove you further away from him.

In the background, you hear craze laughing and crashing as if furniture were being thrown.

"Who are you talking to?!" Spinner's voice screeches from the background.

"Fuck off! Don't come near me!" Tenko cries, muffling the phone as if he was holding it under his arm.

"So you're all at Touya's? Who the hell is Dabi?"

"Dabi is Touya." He scoffs. "It's his gamertag, duh. Can you please just come over? I want to play league of legends and these fuckers keep bugging."

"Is that Y/N? Gimme the fucking phone." Touya joins in on the conversation.

"No!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his misfortune. Tenko had always been the most impatient and childish out of the boys, so it was satisfying to hear him suffer for once- especially when you knew that this was 100% his fault.

"So sorry baby boy, even if I wanted to, I can't. I have someone over." You lie.

You figured that a simple no wouldn't be enough to get Tenko to drop it. He's always had a sort of ick about hook ups and preferred to stay as far away as he could from hearing about his friends' sex life. It would also save you the trouble of dealing with them marching downstairs to bang on your window until you let them in.

"Fuck. Whatever, say less-" Tenko starts.

"WHAT?-" Touya interrupts before the phone hangs up.

You set your phone down and release a breath of relief. You applauded yourself for not giving in so easily. One step of many.

Almost immediately after Tenko had hung on you, you received a text.

You rub your temples, mentally groaning. You could never escape. You realized, as you stood by the window debating whether or not you should open it for Touya, that two weeks prior, you were in the same position- sitting in between letting him in or shutting him out.

Maybe nothing had changed after all.

You open your window, letting the click of it unlatching give him permission to enter your apartment. For some reason, your hands were sweating. You haven't been alone in each other's presence for a casual hangout in almost a month now, and you weren't really sure how to be a normal person around him without the others to act as the buffer.

"Thank god." He steps in and immediately shuts the window behind him. "It's so fucking cold, I was debating on jumping."

The moment he turned around, his jaw dropped. "Your hair." He gasps, covering his mouth with a hand. "Holy shit."

You sheepishly smile at the sudden reaction. "What? Not a fan?"

"Not a fan?" He exclaims. "I thought I liked the long hair, but wow. Fuck."

He flops down on your couch, still looking at you in awe. "God, you're so pretty. I'm nervous now." He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

You roll your eyes, chucking a pillow at him. "Shut up or you'll scare off my date." You tease. "We're gonna finish up, but you stay here and be quiet, okay?"

His cheesing smile instantly drops. "You're fucking joking. Tell me you don't have someone in your bed right now."

"And what if I do?" You put a hand on your hip.

"Don't do that to me, Y/N." He pouts. "Kick them out pleaassee."

"You're such a baby." You sit down on the couch beside him. "I was kidding. No one's here. I just wanted Tenko to leave me alone, but clearly that didn't work out, huh?"

It was sadistic of you, but you did enjoy seeing him squirm at the thought of you spending your night with somebody else.

"Can't hate me for wanting a little distraction. You've just been avoiding me. Don't think I haven't noticed." He mutters.

"Avoiding you? That's a bit clingy of you, don't you think?" You joke.

You met his gaze to realize that he wasn't joking. At all. He had a pouty expression that only a child could master, and those bloodshot eyes were the equivalent to a poor puppy dog's.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked, suddenly taken aback. "What's wrong?"

"If I tell you something, promise you won't hate me?"

Your stomach drops. You didn't have a clue as to where this conversation could go next and couldn't figure out what that look on his face really meant. You had been playing your cards right, kept your distance, maintained your friendship, what more could there have been?

"What is it?"

A beat pass. His lips parted, but no words came out.

"I think I'm actually at a 7.8." He slowly says, gauging your incoming reaction. "Like, a strong 7.8." He murmurs.

A chuckle escaped your lips. That dramatic of an expression just to tell you that he was really fucking stoned made your heart swell a bit and a wave of relief come over you.

"It's fine, Touya. I promise." You wave off. "I'll always take care of you, it doesn't matter."

"Well, no it's not just that. I'm at a strong 7.8 and I have to tell you that I'm having a lot of feelings."

You stared at him for a second, digesting what he just said but not quite getting it.

"I don't think I'm following."

His cheeks puff in frustration. "I'm trying to say that I want to talk to you about... complicated stuff, but I'm stoned, so it's going to come out sounding stupid."

You nervously chuckle. "Don't you think you should talk to me about it when you're sober, then?"

You concluded that you definitely should have kept your window shut and left him on the fire escape- to jump or to freeze whichever came first. You were mentally cursing Tenko for your misfortune of having to deal with this with no preparation.

"Why would I do that when it's easier doing it like this?"

"Because last time someone did that, it ended up in flames. You remember that?" You press your lips together. "Do you want water or something? Some snacks? At least to sober up?" You stand up, starting your way to the kitchen.

"You're doing it again. Avoiding- or an even better word, deflecting." He hums.

"I'm not avoiding or deflecting, Touya. I'm making sure you're taken care of and even more important, don't say anything stupid." You come back with a glass of water and set it on the table in front of him.

"But I want to say something stupid."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Because it's easy in this state and I don't care about the consequences. Duh." He deadpans. "Sweet girl, we are going in circles here. Just let me speak. It's not like I'm totally incoherent or anything. I mostly still have full function of my brain right now....unlike you when you had a silly little something to say." He shoots you a side eye.

You bite the inside of your cheek at the nickname you haven't heard in what felt like a lifetime ago. You take your seat beside him again in defeat.

"Fine. Say your 'silly little something' then."

"Like I was saying earlier, I'm having a lot of feelings." He begins, waving his arms as he speaks. "You following?"

"Mmhm."

"And I'm having these feelings because you've been avoiding me- don't even try to deny it either. We both know you've been avoiding me. Anyways, this probaabbllyyy..." He draws out "..started about a week or so ago, so I've had a week to sit on it, but one day I was like DAMN. This shit sucks! And then I asked myself Well, why does this shit suck so bad? and I came to the conclusion that I..... miss you."

You stared at him for a moment, watching him fiddling with his glass of water and rubbing his bloodshot eyes while he anxiously waited for your response.

"Touya, read the damn room." You roll your eyes. "Okay so if I have been avoiding you, you realize that the time away from you was very necessary for me? I literally confessed my feelings for you, and you told me you didn't feel the same way. Which is 100% fine, but what am I supposed to do? Pretend like everything's normal and go back to hanging out with you like nothing happened?"

"Don't hate me." He murmurs, following up the silence that fell between you two. "I know it's selfish, but it's been hard and confusing for me too."

"I could never hate you, but I really would like to mean it when I say I'm over you. Just give me some time, okay? And then we can hang out and be besties again and all that shit. It's not a big deal to not see me for a couple weeks." You take a sip of your own water cup.

"I don't think we're on the same page right now, Y/N." He mutters.

Another silence falls between you.

"I don't follow anymore. What do you mean, then?"

"I'm having a lot of feelings... about missing you. And us." He avoids your gaze, looking down at his hands.

Us.

"Us." You repeat. "Okay? Keep elaborating." You slowly say, fiddling with your own hands now.

"I know I don't have the right to say this after all that shit that happened, but for a long time, it felt like what we had going on was really good and then all of the sudden it's gone. I knew it was for the better, for both of us, but then after these weeks of not seeing you anymore, it's like I lost you completely and I miss you."

Your stomach simultaneously twists, drops, and threatens to climb up your throat. You didn't know if this sick feeling was coming from anger or the years of yearning coming back to the forefront of your mind.

You reach over, and hold his hands into yours. "Touya, I'm going to hold your hands when I tell you this, okay? And I tell you this because I hold you so close to my heart, and want to continue to do so, but yeah you don't have a fucking right to say all that shit." You huff. "You didn't lose me, because you never had me. You never had me, because you never wanted me. You didn't. I don't hate or blame you for it, but I can't change you. Do you understand?"

He slowly nods his head.

His expression fell into sadness. You weren't sure if it really clicked for him, or if he was fighting his own conflictions about your mess of a relationship, but you knew that above all, you had to protect your peace.

"But what if I can change myself?"

"Wow, you really did miss me, huh?" You tried to lighten up the thick air that had fallen in the room.

"Tell me what I can do, and I'll do it." He squeezes your hands, scooting himself closer to you where your knees were touching now. "I'll change."

Your eyes widened in shock. "Seriously, Touya. You don't have to change anything- you shouldn't. Like I said, the distance made things hard and weird for our friendship, but we'll be back to normal, just give it time."

"Maybe let's talk about this another time, okay? When you're not high." You smile, trying to deescalate the frustration between you two. "We can turn on a movie or something."

"No, Y/N. You're still not getting it... and deflecting." He sighs in frustration. "Your normal is not my normal. My normal is being able to touch you and kiss you and hold you close to me and tell you how fucking beautiful and great you are. I want you to fuck up my hair and paint my nails, call me a piece of shit, your sweet boy, all of it. Tell me what to do to get that, and I'll do it."

You almost pulled back in shock.

"Touya. Listen to me so carefully. You. Don't. Want. Me. Like. How. I. Want. You." You say slowly. "We are friends. Friends don't do all that. There is no world where we can do any of that anymore. How are you asking me to do all of those things with you, when you don't feel more for me? I can't do that to myself, and you know how it killed me."

"Y/N. I will get on my knees right now if you want me to." He begins. "Listen to me, I've slept in my own bed every single night since you left, I've left my window and door unlocked for you, I've been waiting for you for the past month. I know I can be so fucking stupid sometimes, and not know how to talk about my feelings or go about a relationship, but I only want you. Okay? Please. I'm sorry it's taken me this long to realize that, but this isn't like how it was before. I. Want. You."

Your jaw went slack. You realize that this whole conversation had been a poorly navigated confession. Touya wasn't telling you that he missed your weekly hook ups and late night snuggle sesh. He was confessing to you and you had no clue how to take it all in. You had spent weeks trying to get over him- you've just cut off all of your hair for the cause, just for him to sit here and tell you that he's been yearning after you for the past few weeks as you had for him since the beginning of your friendship.

"Please." He grips your hands tighter and brings it up to his mouth. "Please give me a chance to fix it. I'll prove it to you. It was never casual. You do deserve to hear it back. I'm the biggest fucking idiot on the planet to lose you. Tell me you still feel the same way." He mutters into your knuckles with a sense of desperation. "Please."

You took a sharp intake of air. Letting this conversation sit for a second. You debated on asking him to leave and give you a few days, but knowing that Tenko and Spinner were still in his apartment, you couldn't do that to him.

"So, this is you telling me you want to be with me." You finally asked. "You have feelings for me."

He nods his head. "More than that. I want to be yours. And I want you to be mine."

"And not in the way that we were before all this. You feel the same way I do? Like everything I told you on the fire escape a couple weeks ago."

He nods once more. "If you've felt this tightness in your chest as if something is going to rip open at the thought of me not being there anymore, then yeah. The same."

"God, you really had to be stoned to do this?"

"I also wish I had a bottle of tequila and a pack of cigarettes right now, but this will do." He smiled. "I do feel like i'm going to shit myself, I'm so sweaty, and the cotton mouth is insane right now, but I like you so much, I don't want to fuck this up."

He cautiously reaches his hand up to tenderly cup your cheek, swiping his thumb across your lips. He pulls your head into his, letting your foreheads rest against each other.

"You're a fucking idiot." You mutter against his thumb. "So, so stupid. This was a lot, Touya."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I guess we're even now though, huh?" He chuckles nervously. "Um, so yeah I am still shitting myself because you haven't given me a response, sooo...what do you say?"

"Say please one more time and maybe I'll consider taking your sorry ass back." You tease as a smirk grows on your face.

He drops his hand back to your own and leans back, taking in your whole view. A grin spreads ear to ear as a light blush brush on his cheeks. "You are absolutely wicked, my sweet girl. So breathtakingly evil and I am nothing more than a dust particle living in your world. Please. I will never deserve you, but let me be selfish anyways and want you. I want you more than anything. Please."

"God, you're so good at that." You couldn't help but laugh at this theatrical version of a confession. "I guess, if you want me that bad..."

"Can I kiss you?" He quietly asked, "Please."

You smiled, returning the small physical gesture by rubbing his knuckles with your thumbs. Your body was on fire and had been craving this physical contact with him for the past month, and you desperately wanted to just lunge into his skin and devour him whole to make up for lost time.

"No."

His smile falters into the saddest pout you've seen.

"I want you to take me out first. I want you to come to my front door with flowers and a cute outfit, I want dinner, an activity planned, I want you to properly ask me out, maybe grovel a bit more, and then if I say yes, you can kiss me."

He pulls your hands up to his mouth to kiss your knuckle. "That was so fucking hot. You got it, sweet thing. Anything, anything, anything. I'm yours."

tags: @whitneys-favorite-slut @lanxsee @bumblebeebutter @randomrosie01 @lillycore @rinheartshyunlix @yuwuuta @itawifeyy @0fffia @the2ndl @moonchild701 @oldspirit @misguidedswagger

[toournextadventure]

a novel life pt.2

Summary: You're trying to make nice with Sam's little sister, for everyone's sake. Maybe it leads to an interrogation. Maybe it leads to more. And maybe you end up sucked into the unusual events that follow Legacies

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: swearing, distrust, mentions of past trauma, mentions of blood, mentions of Scream typical violence Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x GN!Reader A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Happy Yule, and whatever holidays y'all all celebrate 🫶 (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5)

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked as you nearly tripped over your feet.

Sam gave you a look that was both sweet and condescending. “Yes, because I said so.”

“That doesn’t seem like solid reasoning,” you mumbled, but nonetheless continued following her up the steps to her apartment.

It was nearing Halloween, with the cooling air finally allowing for the use of jackets. Which you had few of, since Sam had decided to keep them for herself. Not that there was anyone to blame but yourself; it was what you deserved for offering her jackets every time she forgot one. She had simply decided it was rather nice to have an unlimited selection of jackets, both too-large and just right.

In all her wisdom, Sam had suggested the two of you, and Tara and her partner have a movie night. Tara got to choose the movie, and no one could object. All in all it should have been a win for the younger Carpenter; she could make you suffer if she truly wanted, and you couldn’t say a word about it. Which was going to cause the night to be very, very long.

Oh, the things you would do for her.

“Is she going to pick something scary?” You asked before you both approached the door. “Because I don’t like scary.”

“I have no doubt it will be scary,” Sam said with a barely-concealed smile. “I’ll hold your hand to keep you safe.”

“You’re my hero,” you said as you leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to her lips. She tasted strongly of the cigarette she had smoked on the way from your apartment to hers.

You tried to pull away, but she quickly followed, keeping her lips pressed against yours. Every sense was enveloped by her. Her smell, her taste, the feel of her body pressed against yours so tightly it was as if you would float away without her. There was nothing you could have ever wanted more than your Sam.

“We shouldn’t give Tara something to be upset about,” you mumbled against Sam’s lips when she finally pulled back just the slightest distance.

“Tara’s always upset,” she answered before sighing, “but you’re right.”

“Baby steps,” you said with a smile.

“For the big baby.”

“Samantha.”

“I’m kidding,” she tried to argue as she grabbed your hand and started finally moving into the apartment.

You both knew she wasn’t kidding.

“My dude!”

You had barely walked through the door when Tara’s partner called out to you, a genuine, toothy grin visible on their face. They had asked you to call them J, which you had happily agreed to. Sam teased that it was short for Joker - you assumed because of the scars - but the look on Tara’s face told you not to ever bring it up. Ever.

It was a rule you could oblige by.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” you said as you hung your coat on the back of one of the chairs at the dining table. It had only taken you dropping your coat once before you realised the Carpenters saw no need for a coat rack.

How utterly uncivilised.

“They think it’s a pleasure to see me,” J said to Tara, who rolled her eyes almost instantly. 

You would never say it aloud, but you noticed the small smile she sent their way. So, she wasn’t as heartless as she wanted you to believe. Exactly like her older sister. It would be simple enough to chalk it down to their past experiences with the world; it had taught them nothing but hardness. But maybe they both just needed a safe space to let those walls come down.

“What did you choose?” Sam asked. She very quickly made her way to the couch opposite Tara and J.

“Depends,” they said.

“On?” Sam asked.

J turned to look at you and held something up to their mouth. “What’s your favourite scary movie?” The voice came out almost robotic, sounding similar to… something you possibly recognised? Vaguely?

“That’s not funny,” Sam said quickly.

“Lighten up, Sam,” Tara said even though she pushed J’s hand - and the voice changer - into their lap. “We’re watching Hellraiser.”

“Thought you didn’t like that one,” Sam said. She reached over and grabbed your hand the moment you sat down beside her on the couch.

Tara’s eyes darted to where your hands were joined and lingered. “I don’t.” She looked back up at you with a hard gaze. “I picked it out just for you.”

“Oh,” you said, perking up instantly. “Thank you.”

You turned to look at Sam with a stupid smile on your face, missing the look J sent Tara. Well, this was turning into a lovely evening! Tara had picked out a movie just for you! Surely that was progress to the finest degree, was it not? If all it took was watching a movie with them every month, you were more than happy to do so. This was turning out to be a rather lovely evening.

At least you thought so until the movie started and you realised just exactly why Tara had picked the movie out just for you.

It was… well, it was a movie. Filled with hooks and needles and… blood. Oh gosh, so much blood. There was a singular blessing amongst it all; you hadn’t eaten before coming over. Thankfully the popcorn sat untouched between you and Sam as your stomach twisted and turned and tried its best to embarrass you.

Sam squeezed your hand as you did your best to keep your cool. Not that it was such an easy thing with all the… you couldn’t even think the word without feeling queasy. Surely there was no way they all enjoyed this kind of thing, right? It was grotesque! The creatures on the screen, the inhumanity of it all, how was it an enjoyable movie?

The room started to shrink around you. Oh, that wasn’t good, you didn’t want to feel claustrophobic, you were trying to be tough. You couldn’t let anyone know that you had an, um, aversion to blood. What would they say? They were all horror fans, how could you ever possibly mention that you just… didn’t enjoy it? Quite frankly, it made you sick to your stomach, like all those science experiments you had to do back in grade school.

The credits couldn’t have rolled a moment too soon. If anyone were to ask you what you thought, you wouldn’t have been able to answer. The only thing you were aware of was your heart beating loudly in your ear and the saliva that continued to fill your mouth. Maybe it would actually be better if you didn’t try to answer anyone for a few more moments.

“So, Professor,” Tara asked all too soon. “What did you think?”

“I-”

-You cut yourself short. There was a part, a rather significant part of your mind that said you should lie. Tell Tara it was a wonderful movie, and you would love to see more if it existed. But lying had never gotten you anywhere in the past, had it? It certainly wasn’t going to assist you in winning over Tara, not when she was already sceptical of you. How was a lie going to assist you?

It wasn’t. 

“It’s not my cup of tea,” you finally said before swallowing the remaining saliva in your mouth. “I don’t really enjoy scary movies.” You nodded to yourself. “Or blood.”

“Oh my god,” Tara huffed, “why can’t you just lose your shit about something?”

“Tara,” Sam warned.

“No, this is ridiculous,” she continued as she stood up from the couch, ignoring J reaching for her hand. “Why can’t you lose your shit?” She pointed at you. “Nobody is this level-headed about everything.”

“That’s enough,” Sam said as she followed suit, standing up from the couch. Similarly, you reached out for her hand but she moved just far enough away.

“Get out,” Tara said before promptly looking Sam dead in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Sam asked.

“Get out,” she repeated.

“Hey, T-”

“-You too,” Tara interrupted J, who froze with a comically shocked expression on their face. “Both of you get out so I can talk to them-” she pointed at you “-alone.”

“Absolutely not-”

“-Sounds reasonable,” you interrupted Sam. She looked at you like you had grown a second head. “I would love to talk.”

“Come on, Baby Ghost,” J said as they stood up. You were starting to feel left out by being the only one still sitting. “I’ll buy you a new pack of cigs.”

Sam looked like she wanted to argue, but both you and Tara gave her a look. Differing looks, of course, but still. While Tara seemed to get her a death stare that was almost permanently etched onto her face, you tried to go the more convincing route. If Tara wanted to talk, who were you to tell her no? Talking was key, that’s what your family had always done and it had never ended poorly.

“Fine,” Sam finally said. She seemed resigned. “But you have 15 minutes and that’s it.”

“Deal,” Tara said. “Now get out.”

You stayed as still as a statue when Sam leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. A little more forceful than usual, but you wouldn’t complain. Any kiss from her was perfect. A sigh came from behind her, and you both knew who it was from, but she took her time before pulling away and standing back up.

“Don’t let her bully you,” she said.

“Sam,” Tara said forcefully. “Get out.”

“Fine,” Sam said, throwing her hands up. “But I mean it,” she said as she and J walked to the door together. “15 minutes.”

You and Tara both watched your partners leave the apartment, practically abandoning you to the force of nature that was the youngest Carpenter sister. It shamed you to admit you were a little afraid of her. You knew there was something going on deep down that she either wouldn’t or couldn’t accept, and you wouldn’t dare fault her for it. But she let her internal frustrations out in a very external way.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tara asked the moment the door shut behind the two. You stayed silent. “You don’t yell, you don’t scream, you don’t even freak out when I put on a movie I knew you would hate.”

You waited a moment to make sure she was finished. “I was raised by two very… pacifistic parents,” you said, gesturing for her to sit on the couch opposite you. “We talked through our issues, we didn’t yell about them.”

Tara opened her mouth as if she was about to argue, or complain, or something. Slowly, her mouth closed and she pursed her lips. She kept looking at you, but slowly took a seat opposite you. There was something going on behind her eyes, you could see it, but you knew better than to question her just yet. Just like your mom had taught you; let them lead the conversation.

“I don’t trust you,” she said slowly. Her eyes stayed locked with yours. “You’re too understanding and too kind.” You stayed silent. “Sam only ever falls for freaks.”

“Didn’t she date an FBI agent?” You asked. You could vaguely remember what Sam had said about her, but she had seemed nice enough.

“Kirby is cool, I’ve always liked her,” Tara said with a dismissive shake of her head. “But she was attacked by Ghostface twice,” she said, “so she’s a freak by proxy.” She looked back at you. “So what’s your deal?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know,” you said, “ask your questions and maybe you can find out.”

It had initially been your idea, but before Tara could even open her mouth you started to second guess yourself. Perhaps allowing her to ask whatever questions she wanted without any repercussions was… not the smartest idea on your part. You had nothing to hide, but what if she really started to ask unusual questions? What if your answers weren’t what she wanted to hear?

But when you thought of Sam, and being with her, you felt that, without question, it was worth the gamble.

“Have you ever used a knife?” Tara asked quickly. It seemed she wasn’t going to wait.

“Not outside of cooking,” you answered just as quickly.

“How about a gun?” So, it would be a rapid fire interrogation. Game on.

“Never.”

“Ever hurt anybody before?” A tilt of her head.

“Not on purpose.”

“What about animals?”

“No.”

“Not even in science class?”

“I-” you attempted to clear your throat to buy a bit of time “-I fell ill that day.”

Tara paused and narrowed her eyes. “Because of blood.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” you said anyway. “It makes me sick to my stomach.”

“You’re pretty pathetic,” Tara said as she leaned back on the couch. For the first time in… well, ever, you thought you almost saw her smile at you. “That’s exactly Sam’s type.”

“I thought you said it was freaks,” you pointed out.

“Pathetic freaks,” she corrected quickly. That quirk near the corner of her mouth rapidly disappeared. “Why did you choose Sam?”

You paused. It was uncertain what exactly Sam had told Tara about you both meeting. Surely she wouldn’t have overdramatised it, but had she told her the truth? The truth was… well, it was pathetic as well, but you weren’t entirely convinced Tara would approve. Not that it was entirely her place, but the two were the only family each other had. They both had a right to be cautious of anyone new coming into their lives.

But perhaps you could answer the question a little differently.

“She’s kind,” you said with a subconscious nod of your head. “And bold, and intelligent - god she’s intelligent - and brave.” You averted Tara’s eyes. “And she’s really pretty too.”

Tara nodded once. “What are your intentions with her?”

Another question that you believed was potentially a trick. You couldn’t very well say you loved Sam just yet; you hadn’t even told Sam that little piece of information. But there were other intentions with her even if you didn’t necessarily use the word “love.” There were other things that were just as important.

“I don’t want to sound overly self-important,” you started off, looking back up to meet Tara’s eyes. “But I would very much like to be the one by Sam’s side as she continues on this path she’s created for herself.”

Tara looked at you; really looked at you. She was so very difficult for you to read. Unlike Sam, Tara did a better job at hiding her emotions. While Sam would give it away with her facial expressions, Tara did not. No, her feelings came out differently, whether in the slight twitch of her fingers or the impatient tapping of her foot on the rug. You hadn’t been around her long enough to know what exactly those feelings were, you simply acknowledged they were feelings.

“I’ll give you a chance,” Tara finally said, her voice far softer than you had ever heard. At least when it was directed at you. “But if you do anything to hurt her, or upset her, or lie to her, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” You gulped. “I’m not afraid to kill again.”

“I forgot you’ve both killed someone before,” you mumbled to yourself before speaking up louder. “Those are acceptable terms.”

“Good,” she said with a single nod of her head. “But don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you.”

You could both hear the other two finally approaching the door, bickering in a way that mimicked biological siblings.

“I would expect nothing less,” you told Tara as the door opened and the moment ended.

—---

The rest of the semester went by without incident. Tara had stayed true to her word and gave you a fair chance to prove that you could be trusted with her sister’s heart, and it wasn’t something you had taken lightly. You knew how important the both of them were to each other, and you had done your best to prove that not only did you care for Sam, but you cared for Tara too.

She had finally eased up during classes, allowing you to properly teach without an ounce of disdain for you personally. In fact, she had even dared to come to office hours on more than one occasion to discuss certain pieces you had offered as optional readings. The Carpenters were immensely intelligent, no matter what the subject matter was.

You and Sam had fallen into a rather comfortable routine, always going for a date night on Thursdays to whatever new place your colleagues had recommended, and movies with Tara and J on Saturdays. You would spend the night at her place Thursday through Monday morning, and she would stay at yours Monday through Thursday morning. It was comfortable, and you were more than content.

But with school finally over for the semester, you could focus on the real gem; Christmas.

Both Carpenters - and J, for that matter - had been nonchalant with their decorations. A minimal Charlie Brown tree that had, at most, four ornaments on it. It was awfully quaint, and if they hadn’t been so blase about it you would have been content to leave it standing. Nevertheless, they had made it clear they didn’t care if there were any decorations, and you had taken that as a cry for help.

Your own apartment had, of course, been decorated since the day after Thanksgiving. It was a wonderful gift from your mother, learning how to decorate for the holidays, and you weren’t keen on squandering the skills and letting them fall off the wagon, so to speak. Sam had made a few comments, though you hadn’t taken her for a non-believer.

“It’s okay, really,” Sam tried to say when you and J finished bringing in what had to have been the seventh box of decorations from your apartment.

“Oh no, I insist,” you said with a smile. “Besides, my mother would be downright dismayed if she knew the decorations were sitting in my apartment unused.”

“Great,” Tara mumbled as she walked by without even offering to help, “we get to live at the North Pole.”

“Isn’t it exciting?” You said with a smile. “These are more neutral, so you shouldn’t feel too out of place, but they still embody the holiday spirit.”

“Well I think it’ll be fun,” J said with their own smile. “Do I get to hang the ornaments?”

“Why-”

“-the ornaments won’t be the only thing hanging this Christmas,” Tara said, tossing a mini marshmallow into the air and catching it in her mouth. “Especially with those blinding lights.”

You looked down at the ones in your hand and frowned. “I thought they were rather tame.”

“And they’re lovely,” Sam tried to cover, even though you could see the fake smile she had on her face. “You’re doing great,” she continued as she left a simple kiss on your cheek.

The decorating ended up being a one person job, you quickly realised when you discovered J could not, for the life of them, listen to instructions. More than once, the lights had been blown and you had to find the faulty one to fix it. Normally you would chalk it down to bad luck, but when it was only the ones that they were installing? You became a little suspicious.

At least they were all eager to help with the snacks and desserts, and that was something you could live with. Surprisingly, Tara was the one who had the most ideas. You knew you weren’t the best cook; you could follow instructions but that didn’t necessarily mean they would turn out nice. But with Tara at the helm? They were almost as good as your mother’s! Though obviously you would never dare to tell her that.

You also rather quickly discovered that they were not gift giving people. Understandable, you supposed, they had much more important things to worry about in life. It was still unacceptable. The moment you had found out, you had called your parents and told them the tragic news.

Gifts for all three of them - plus a gift each for Mindy, Chad, and Anika - had been delivered to your house within the week. Express shipping to be certain they would arrive before Christmas.

Which led to yet another tragedy; they had no stockings.

“It’s really not worth buying,” Sam attempted to persuade you over the phone on one of the rare nights you two weren’t spending together. “Just stay home tonight.”

“It’s no trouble, Sam,” you argued. “I’m heading out for a bit anyway.”

You didn’t admit you were already at the store, trying to decide which one would fit each person best.

“Just stay safe,” she said. You could hear car horns in the background but thought nothing of it. “I mean it.”

“I’ll be safe,” you insisted, “I always am.”

“Call me when you’re back home,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a smile that she couldn’t see.

She hung up first, and you continued your search without any second thoughts. In the end, you had decided on a Santa stocking for J, a reindeer for Tara, and a snowman for Sam. They would look lovely hanging underneath the mounted television in their living room. But with the stockings, you needed things to fill them with.

Santa’s work was never finished.

It was dark by the time you finished buying everything you believed you needed. Stockings, fillers, and some snacks to make for a lovely evening. That should surely be enough to give the three of them a very merry Christmas, would it not? Your mother had already sent their Santa presents, and their other presents were underneath the tree, so as far as you were aware of at the moment, everything was taken care of.

You were still going over your mental checklist when you heard a commotion down one of the alleys on the way home. Every cell in your body told you not to bother looking; people got desperate around the holidays and it would do you no good to go poking your head where it didn’t belong. But if someone was getting hurt, then you needed to attempt to help.

Or at least make enough of a scene that someone else would come help.

“Excuse me?” You called out foolishly as you started down the dark alleyway. “Is everyone alright out there?”

You pulled your coat tighter around you as you continued walking. It hadn’t been raining or snowing recently, and yet something started to soak through your shoes and socks. The shocking cold that normally came from liquids in December wasn’t present; it was warm.

There was another noise. It almost sounded like something solid, but it was overshadowed by something metallic. You did your best to see something in the dark, even as your body continued to tell you to move along. But something didn’t feel right; you were feeling queasy again.

Something hissed in front of you, but it wasn’t a snake. No, you knew what those sounded like and this wasn’t even close. This sounded much more human, though that sound would only ever really happen in dire circumstances like if-

-a large white mask faced you. It was the only thing you could see in the dark, thanks to the lights behind you causing just enough radiance to make the mask almost seem luminescent. You weren’t a movie buff, especially not scary movies, but you weren’t stupid. Everyone knew what that mask was.

Ghostface.

All those cells that had been telling you to run? They were silent. Frozen in fear, just like your mind. The killer wasn’t moving toward you, simply facing you, almost as if it was the very reason you were stationary. Which, it was, but not in the typical way that most would be privy to. You felt like a deer in headlights, and if you moved then you died.

You supposed that was how all the movies went.

“Aren’t you going to run?” Ghostface asked, in that same voicebox that J had had during the movie night.

You swallowed the saliva filling your mouth. “No,” you said in a trembling voice.

“Why not?” He continued. “I like when they run.”

“I’m not very fast,” you said. “You’ll catch me before I get to the street.”

He still didn’t move, and your eyes finally adjusted enough to see the silhouette of a body slumped at his feet. Your throat constricted at the sight; you were going to be sick. The very image started to worm its way into your brain; there was a very simple explanation for what was still soaking through your socks. It wasn’t snow.

“You should get home, Professor,” Ghostface said.

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if he could see you. “Yes I should.”

“Stay on the sidewalk next time,” he said.

“I- I believe that’s sound advice,” you said with more frantic nods of your head. Your palms were starting to get clammy.

Ghostface lifted up a hand - holding a knife - and waved. “Good night, Professor.”

“Good night,” you said with your own shaky wave.

You walked backwards out of the alley, keeping an eye on the figure until it was completely out of sight. Your feet were frozen on the ground once you were under a street light. There were no more sounds coming from the alley, not even the sound of someone leaving. Wherever Ghostface had gone, he hadn’t followed you.

In an incredibly brave moment, you leaned over and vomited directly into a storm grate before going back home. You called Sam the moment you got back into your apartment.

You couldn’t find the courage to inform her of the night’s mystery encounter.

[littlemelaninfics]

Birthday Buddies || BUDDIE! x Reader Smut

A/n: A short smut for Ryan's birthday 🥳 I missed posting for Oliver's back in June, so enjoy this Buddie threesome. The imagine is based on this picture of the boys in the cabin and even though it's 11:58pm, it still counts so you can kick a table.

Warnings: Buddie! Smut, Threesome, Throuple dynamic

"Y'all ready?!" Eddie called out.

"Yeap!" Buck hollered back as he grabbed the rest of the bags. He trotted through the house, opting to break both arms than make more trips. He entered Eddie's view, who was just refilling the water jug,

"Where's she at?" he asked.

Buck sighed as he dropped the bags, turning back around to grab Y/n. He found you in the bathroom, finger coiling your hair.

"Babe." Buck said peeking his head around the corner. In a split second your smell took over his senses. It was a mix of brown sugar and your hair products. Aside from your natural scent, the artificial ones you chose were top tier. Down to your deodorant,

"I know. I know. I'm coming, I promise. I just had to fix these few before they had a chance to completely dry," you said pleading her case.

"You know how he gets when he's made to wait."

"After everything he's been through, I know he's a patient man."

You caught his glance in the reflection and didn't even need to be told,

"Sorry." You said softening your features.

"Hurry up." Buck replied, neutralizing his. You kill that man in more ways than one.

He made his way back to Eddie,

"She's coming."

Eddie just nods as he starts to carry bags to the car. Buck hears you coming and already set out your thermos and snack bag for the car. You round the corner and entered Buck's sight, smiling sweetly at everything as you grabbed them off the counter. You were taking a sip of water when Eddie came in through the garage door,

"There she is!"

"Ah! Happy Birthday! Again..." You giggled as you happy stomped into his arms,

"Aww, thank you, Baby! You ready to go?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded.

"Let's hit it," he said as he clapped his hands together. Eddie went out the door first with you in tow and Buck to close the door, but not before landing a quick swat to your passing bum.

Eddie had expressed his interest in going to the cabin for his birthday this year and you and Buck were determined to make it happen. Eddie knows what he wants with Buck thinking he knows what Eddie wants and that fight for dominance left you deep scrolling on social media to get ideas and the perfect spot.

The car ride was nothing but a sneak peek of what was to come once the car was parked. As much as Eddie wanted to drive, your incentives for him to join you in the back seat were much more enticing. Eddie had to break away from you a couple times to remind Buck that you all have to actually get there in order for his "suffering" to end.

"So I packed those snacks for nothing?" Buck asked looking through the rearview,

"Nope!" You said popping up from the back and feeding him a chip and kiss to his cheek,

"Thank you, Baby." He said with a grin before reaching up and pulling you in with his right arm for a proper kiss.

"Alright. Alright. Alright. Eyes, Buck," Eddie warned once again from the backseat, smacking your on display bum and making you flinch.

"What is with everyone smacking my ass today?"

"It's my birthday, Baby. I'm gonna be doing a lot more than smacking it," he said as he pulled your hips to sit back down. You giggled in disbelief as Buck let out a hearty laugh because he knew with it being Eddie's birthday and him being pent up from this car ride you were in for it.

Sooner than later, you all rounded up the mountain and pulled into the cabin driveway. You hopped out and were gathering your things from the back, when you’re hoisted over Buck's shoulder and carted off to the front door,

"Wait! We have frozens!"

"Then first round will have to be quick."

The night was filled with shameless lust as the three of you clawed at one another. You ended up putting on a show for them when Eddie requested to just watch his partners for a minute. You and Buck obliged, giving him anything he wanted that weekend. Your holes were stretched to new limits by the fireplace, over the balcony and in the hot tub out back. You were always at their disposal, but you and Buck collaborated for your man and you two had plans.

The three of you had to take a break from your escapades as the clock was close to midnight and Eddie still hadn't blown out his candles. Let's just say you all had a taste for different flavor cakes that night.

[koolades-world]

Hello! When you have time can you please do headcanons on the brothers (and side characters) reacting to MC pranking them by getting a brussel sprout, dipping it in chocolate and nuts, then wrapping it into a ferrero rocher covering and then going so far as to reseal the box? I think this would be really funny lol

hiii!! yes omg of course

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTIE (i think i timed this right? if not, i'm close bc it's still your birthday week lol) y'all go wish atom happy bday! literally so many of my bangers are a request she made. hope you had a wonderful birthday <3333

enjoy <3

Mc pranks everyone with fake Ferrero Rochers

Lucifer

he actually automatically assumes the anti-lucifer league put you up to this

you manage to dodge all liability for something you were totally responsible for

take this secret to the grave lest you suffer the wrath of lucifer haha

Mammon

he loves you so much, so he pretends to enjoy it since he assumes it's just an odd human thing

however afterwards, he immediately throws it away

you might casually mention it again in the future and then he realizes it was a prank all along

Levi

may or may not burst into tears because he thinks you hate him and that's why you gave it to him

please buy him a regular tray and show him it was just a prank

if you really love him, eat one yourself to show how sorry you are

Satan

if you were anyone else, there's no way you'd still be alive

seems the most likely to spit it out, but laughs it off with you

he might play a harmless prank on you back and hopes it's not the start of some mini war

Asmo

will outright ask you if you were being serious or not

that intense look in his eyes gets you to confess

as payback, he has you act as his mannequin for the evening to test out fun outfits and makeup looks on

Beel

he's the wrong one to prank lmao

he will deadpan eat them, tell you how oddly delicious and different they tasted

will ask for more. prank: failed

Belphie

he sees right through your shit

he will eat one, but will immediately realize what you did

won't retaliate but will give you the meanest stink eye ever

Diavolo

will happily eat it

he thinks it's just a human thing and will make sure to let you know he enjoyed it

it seems as if he actually liked it! is this success or not?

Barbatos

that 'candy' will not enter his mouth once

it's barbatos, he saw this coming and won't fall for it

in fact, you somehow end up eating it. well played barb, well played

Simeon

would for sure pretend to enjoy it

he doesn't want to hurt your feelings after all, since it was a gift

unless you ever admit to what you did, he will never say anything about it

Luke

like father like son

he assumes it was a well intentioned gift and will take the fact that he hated it to the grave

honestly maybe just don't do this to him it feels cruel haha

Solomon

he seems like he'd actually enjoy it

just convince him that it's just how they are now and he's been away from the human world for too long

however, this will all go out the window as soon as he buys himself a tray haha

Mephisto

he feels so betrayed haha

here he was, thinking you'd gone out of your way to give him a gift

contemplates retaliation, but decides not to because he deems himself a gentleman

Thirteen

she doesn't contemplate retaliation

her plan had already begun to moment she took a bite of your monstrosity haha

you may want to watch your back from now on, but she'll probably get you anyways

Raphael 

i feel like he would at first be confused

but then, he's going to threaten you with his spear(s)

run for you life mc!

[tenwhiteandalusians]

olivia rodrigo get him back! dot mp3. so you’re telling me tenax ARRESTED his boyfriend while he was emotionally at his lowest for a trick they used to pull together in order to convince him to come back to him. it’s not like you could’ve just asked or anything.

and then no one said anything about the fact that if i watched ONE MORE episode tenax pulls a "i'm not angry i'm just disappointed i'm hurt" about scorpus signing with the white faction.

[strangersteddierthings]

What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Alright y'all. We had the hurt, let's get some comfort started.

-

Steve leans against his door, expecting Eddie to follow him upstairs to continue their argument because Eddie's never been one to back down from an argument as far as Steve can tell, so he's using his weight to keep the door shut. It takes about five minutes of just leaning against the door before he hears a few light knocks on the door. He pretends he didn't hear them and soon starts to hear Eddie monologue-ing on the other side. He thinks he hears a 'sorry' and an 'I fucked up' but he doesn't really tune in until Eddie says something about cancelling Hellfire.

Spinning quickly, he yanks the door open and says, "You better not fucking cancel!"

"What? Don't you, like, want me out of your house?" Eddie looks startled and sounds confused.

"What I want is for the kids to get to play Dungeons and Dorks for an afternoon, just getting to be kids and fight against monsters that can't actually kill them," Steve says as he goes to put his hands on his hips (a move that Robin calls his Bitch Stance) but realizes he can't while still holding a book, so instead he folds his arms across his chest, cradling the book to his body.

He waits for Eddie to call him out for saying dorks instead of dragons, but Eddie just blinks at him, quiet for a moment before he says, "Oh. Uh, okay then. I'll just, uhh, I'll be back closer to noon, then. For the game."

"Don't you have prep to do?" Steve knows he's trying to pick a fight now but he's angry, and sad, and hurt underneath it all. Also, he doesn't understand the change in Eddie suddenly. Ten-ish minutes ago Eddie had shouted back I wasn’t exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even! Where is that anger now?

"No. Not, uh, not really," Eddie says, avoiding meeting Steve's gaze, face turning a very light pink. "I was- I mean, yes, there was prep, but I did a majority of that already and what's left will take maybe three minutes so..."

Steve's confused now, still trying to cling to his anger. "But you called and asked if it was okay to come early specifically for that reason."

Eddie doesn't respond right away. He turns around to walk to the wall opposite Steve's door and thump his forehead against it. Steve is perplexed by the behavior (but he's been perplexed by Eddie since finding him at Reefer Rick's) so he just watches in silence as Eddie heaves a sigh and turns around to slump against the wall, facing Steve once again. He runs a hand through his hair, then drags that hand back forward and down his face. "Yeah. I did do that."

"So, what, you lied? Why?"

"I just wanted to hang out," Eddie whispers, like it almost hurts him to say out loud, which is such a weird thing to hear because it makes Eddie seem small in a way Steve's never seen him. Even during spring break Eddie was never small or quiet; his fear manifested as shouting, for fuck's sake. It chips away at the last of Steve's anger. He's long past the days of kicking someone when they're down.

"You... wanted to hang out," Steve repeats before heaving a sigh of his own, long-suffering man that he is. Maybe it is time to bury the hatchet and actual deal with this. If nothing else, it'll result in Steve being less defensive around Eddie when everyone hangs out, like for movie night or BBQs. Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to so he says, "Listen, I think we've got some shit to hash out, or whatever, so that should probably be done or, like, things are going to be weird when we all hang out, but I can't do that right now, man. So, stay or go, just make that game happen at noon. I'm going to stay up here."

Eddie nods, weirdly sullen and quiet again, as he says, "Yeah. Umm, maybe after the game? If you're feeling up to it."

"Sure. After."

Eddie raps his knuckles against the wall behind him twice before pushing off and heading back towards the stairs. He pauses to look over his shoulder and say, "If you wanna watch, or listen in, or something, I don't think anyone will mind." And then he's heading down the stairs.

Retreating back to his room, Steve tosses the book onto his bed before flopping face first next to it. He groans into his comforter before reaching for the book. He props himself up on his elbows and stares down at the cover before opening it to see Christopher's handwriting on the inside cover.

It's been years since he thought about Christopher and even longer since he's laid eyes on the books. He was so sure his mom had just gotten rid of them. All this time, they'd been right where he left them, shoved just far enough back to be out of sight on the shelf. His last link to Christopher.

That's not true, Steve scolds himself. His cousins, Amber and Robert, are still alive and in Washington. His grandparents still live on that farm in Michigan. Steve just hasn't seen them since the funeral.

He hadn't gone back to the farm the summer after freshman year, or any year since. His parents thought he was old enough to stay home for a whole month in the summer alone now, instead of paying to ship him off to his grandparents. Steve's old enough now to know that was why he'd spent a month every year out on the farm; so his parents could go off on longer work trips. Once they'd decided Steve was old enough to stay alone for the summer, that quickly reached other seasons and by the time Steve was a junior, the were gone more than they were home.

He doesn't even remember when he last spoke to them in person. He thinks the last phone call was right after Starcourt. It was just to make sure Steve got to job hunting, since his place of employment had burned down and the bills wouldn't pay themselves. Which is true. He doesn't have to pay rent, but all the utilities are in his name now.

Jesus, he doesn't want to be thinking about them.

He goes back to the book, flipping through the pages absently. Halfway through the book he finds a couple folded pieces of paper tucked close to the spine. He doesn't have to open them to know exactly what they are.

It's the character sheets he'd made.

He closes the book back atop them and rolls over to face his ceiling. He wants to call Robin, but the phones are downstairs and he doesn't want to go down there just yet. He also kinda wants to cry. To get rid of all these emotions about Christopher, and Freshman First Day, and Eddie.

Fucking Eddie. Who haunts Steve's thoughts more than he'd like because despite the grudge Steve has been holding, Eddie has been fun to be around and so good with the kids, especially Dustin. Fuck, after having watched Dustin break down when they thought he was dead- but he'd had a pulse. It was weak but it was there.

After Eddie'd been cleared of the charges and the months rolled on into summer, they'd spent lots of time together as a group. Steve will admit he tried to avoid Eddie as best he could (he knows he's petty, okay) but could still see how he blended smoothly into their group.

If this Eddie had been the one he met on Freshman First Day, instead of the dick that mocked him, they might very well be friends now.

That's the crux of it all, Steve thinks. That he wouldn't mind being friends with Eddie if not for that bottled up grudge he'd been holding onto. He can't bring himself to let it go and Steve's not even sure why. Thoughts and feelings aren't something Steve processes quickly, and it usually helps to talk it out with Robin. She lets him stumble through his thoughts, and doesn't mock him for messing up, or mixing up, words.

Goddammit, if he's really going to try talking this out with Eddie, he's going to have be open and honest and maybe a little vulnerable and he doesn't know if he can do that.

But he'll have to. For better or worse, he can't just keep Eddie at arms length. They need to either come to the conclusion that they can be friends, or not, and then go from there. (Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to.)

In the end, Steve's not sure how long he just stares up at the ceiling but a sudden shout breaks him from his trance. It sounded like Dustin. Hellfire must have started.

Steve leaves his room to go lean against the half wall of the hallway, so he could look down to the dining table where everyone has gathered to play. No one notices him, so Steve sinks to the floor and turns, so he can lean against the wall, closes his eyes, and listens in.

The room below is filled with noise. Shouts of excitement, and groans of pain, and sighs of relief. Dustin yells at his dice when it rolls a Nat 1. Mike curses up a storm over a barely missed perception check that makes the party fall into a surprise round. He hears Lucas whoop happily and then what sounds like him taking several victory laps around the table.

He used to be an imaginative kid, able to easily conjure castle, and knights, and dragons in his mind's eye. Listening to Eddie describe a new location, or NPC, or monster makes it easy to bring that part of himself back. Eddie is descriptive and uses so many voices that Steve would be embarrassed to even attempt. But because Eddie is being descriptive, so is everyone else at the table. Erica has adopted an accent of some sort for her character. Dustin and Will go into great detail describing what they want their character to do. The older members of Hellfire do the same, and one of them is using an Irish accent that if he used while talking to Steve, he'd would think it was his first language.

Steve's not sure how long he sat there, long enough that they've taken a snack break and are back at it again, before he decides he might as well watch, too. He gets up and goes downstairs. There's a pause at the table when he wonders in and plops down on the couch. He makes eye contact with Eddie and offers a small half smile. Eddie grins back, and starts back into the game, pulling everyone's focus.

Watching is interesting. He gets to see the Party jab at each other, or lean over and whisper about something. It's nice, to see them being kids. Having fun.

They end around five and Steve is surprised at how quickly five hours had passed.

"So, Steve, how was watching your first DnD game?" Dustin asks, pausing on his way to the door to do so.

Steve considers teasing him, but he goes for honesty instead. "Pretty interesting. It might not be my last time observing. I gotta see you get killed sometime, right?"

"Rude, Steve. Rude," Dustin is grinning though.

"Tell your mom hi for me, and let me know when she's making pork chops again. I'd like to crash that dinner."

Dustin rolls his eyes and shakes his head but he hugs Steve before leaving. Between all the older Hellfire members, they all have rides home that aren't Steve or Eddie.

Speaking of the latter, he's slowly packing things away at the table. Clearly killing time so it won't look like he's intentionally staying after everyone's gone.

Soon, the house is empty again.

"So, I'm not sure... how to start this conversation," Eddie admits to the silence. He's still at the table, standing behind where he was previously sitting, fiddling with a die. "But, I'm sorry. For that day. You were right, you know? When you said I was lashing out at you first."

"Thanks. For the apology," Steve stands from the couch and moves to the table, toying with the tablecloth instead of looking at Eddie. "I, uhh, I'm not sure where to go from here, either? I spent such a long time angry at you. For pointing out all the things I'm bad at in front of everyone there. For making me feel like an idiot."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Now Steve looks up at Eddie. "You say that, but like, why? Are you sorry because what you did was shitty, or because you want to be my friend now?"

Eddie blinks, apparently thrown by Steve's question.

"Because, like, you were pretty dismissive of Lucas before Spring Break and he helped save your life. So, it's like, are you okay with being shitty if the people you hurt aren't people you like? 'Cause I used to be that way, and I'm not going to be friends with someone who is."

"Yeah, no, you're right," Eddie nods. "For all that I scream about conformity, and how stupid it is, I've been rather quick to dismiss everyone outside my own... group. I held rather close to that nerds verses jocks crap for too long. Lucas is a jock, but he's also a nerd, and so very loyal to his friends. And you- you're really fucking awesome."

"I am," Steve interrupts with a cheeky grin.

"Ass. But yeah, you're pretty awesome, and I've been feeling all fucked up today because, we could have been friends, couldn't we? In high school. If I'd just let you take the damn flier and kept my mouth shut."

"Hey, that's not all on you," Steve says. "I would have still joined the basketball team, and the swim team. And, like, I was so desperate for any shred of attention from my parents that I would never have picked Hellfire over sports meetups. I could have joined and still ended up a bully by sophomore year."

"Well, I didn't help-"

"I made those choices, Eddie. And it doesn't matter because it's in the past. So, like, we can just move forward. Start over, or whatever."

Eddie looks him up and down before giving one sharp nod, then breaking out into a wide grin, sticking his hand out for a handshake. "Hi. Name's Eddie Munson."

Steve laughs, reaching out to shake Eddie's hand. "Steve Harrington."

"Great, pleasure to meet you. Do you wanna hang out? We can play 20 questions. Get to know each other."

"Sure," Steve chuckles, extracting his hand from Eddie's. "Let me order some pizza first."

First time hanging out with Eddie alone. Guess they'll find out if they can be friends after all.

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #4 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Y'all this chapter took so long to write. This is NOT proofread once again me and Grammarly were beefing because she doesn't understand fanfiction. Nonetheless, it is 12 am MST and here it is. Now for an overall warning, this chapter talks about so much that I was to let everyone know that I meant for this to be a dark series. That was my goal. I'm so sorry if some of these topics seem like they're too heavy for you. If you feel overwhelmed, disgusted, or just find it hard to read please remember that it is okay and you are loved. This chapter mentions miscarriages, eating disorders, gunshot wounds, suicide, etc. I love you all and stay healthy. I will try to post my 500 followers post soon! Not proofread because eepy. YOU'LL read my chapter unedited and you'll like it! (hopefully). Thanks for reading. -Love you all, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #3 > Next Chapter: Coming Soon...

WARNING: miscarriage, eating disorder, catholic guilt, bisexuality mention??, period underwear, stalking, marital problem, divorce, sexual harassment, guns, knives, gunshot wound, This bitch shoots someone, suicide, mention of a skull, blood so much blood.

Tape Contents: We briefly dive into Heather's past. Adeline makes a call that gives the team a reason to visit the suburbs. Heather makes a decision. You see something other than pink for the first time in four days.

Word Count: 6,296

Seven to Four Years Prior- January 10, 20XX

Heather had to get out of Norfolk. She felt suffocated under her father’s watchful gaze and helicopter ways. He was a hard man to love and hard to be around in general. When he drank, she used to pray that he would forget about her, so she became quiet. She didn’t have many friends here anyway, so she took you out of the equation and knew no one else would know her name. 

So, with a heavy heart, she moved her life away to Richmond. She changed her major to nursing and killed that quiet girl from Norfolk. She fabricated real lies that sometimes she couldn’t separate from reality. She stared at girls silently with longing and played it off as admiration if she was ever caught. Catholic guilt stopped it from growing into anything else. 

She was slow to open up about her feelings and showed people an extroverted sorority girl nursing graduate who liked to go to bars on the weekend and let men’s hands pull at her hips desperately in dark corners. 

Now, at twenty-four, she only thought about one thing: how good her stomach looked in this dress. She had thinned out tremendously since the move. At first, it started due to not having enough money to eat anywhere except the shitty university cafeteria. Then, it warped into something else. During its worst moments, she would log her calories or purge food moments after eating it. She could look into mirrors afterward and feel she was achieving something remarkable. Then, sometimes, she would also look at her face and think, ‘Is that what I look like’? 

But tonight, she wanted to do something different, something fun. Having told her sorority sisters this, they all jumped on board quickly, agreeing to meet at the bar around 10 p.m. that Saturday. They were thirty minutes late. 

Heather was gently fiddling with the hem of her short black dress, her eyes flickering towards the entrance every so often as she waited for them to walk in. This year, she wanted to be happier, less suffering in silence, and a little more smiley. So yes, she wanted to have fun with people she called friends. Despite all her efforts, she was sure they could see right through her sometimes. She swallowed nervously as she nursed a margarita. 

The next time she looked at her phone, she saw texts from her former sisters saying that work had been hectic and that they needed to reschedule for another time. So now, Heather Alexander was right back at square one: alone. She glanced down at her dress and frowned slightly at its tight material. It was the kind of dress that made her uncomfortable but made men comfortable. Something always felt wrong with that. Heather always secretly knew that she felt an attraction to women and men, but she always felt guilty at the thought. 

She sighed as she debated her next move when she saw him. He was the prettiest man she had ever seen. He had soft masculine features that almost looked slightly feminine, a uniform clad against his chest, and a charming boyish smile as their eyes met. Heather whispered a silent prayer that he would like her as he approached her and introduced himself as David Hernandez. How could she not fall for him instantly? Deep brown eyes, pink lips, dark skin, and a low rumble in his voice made her feel like giggling. 

It wasn’t long before the two of them were getting married. They spent a few months together in domestic bliss. He got some time off from work, and she kept her last name, and they were… happy. 

At least they were happy for six months, and then her world shattered around her as David was deployed to England. She cried herself to sleep the night she heard, and David stroked her back softly to calm her. Heather didn’t want him to leave her and see someone better overseas. She was sure that women would throw themselves at David’s feet, begging him to kiss them, touch them, fuck them, like whores in the street of Babylon. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching him, looking at him the way she looked at him, talking to him the way she did in his ear late at night. She begged him to try and find some way out of it, scared to lose what was rightfully hers, but he couldn’t. He left that week.

At first, it was just six months, but then it stretched out into a year of deployment—a year spent being faithful to a man across the Atlantic. She called him when she had time, wrote letters to him, sent him emails, and constantly contacted him in any way she could. 

When he got home, it was clear that all her efforts had gone to waste. David was distant. He would sulk in corners of their home on his phone. He would lament on and on about how England felt like his home and how he missed it. She couldn’t stand it. This house they bought together was his home, and it always had been. Why was he struggling to see that? 

The more he talked of his deployment, the more Heather became frustrated with him. Then he started to go out more. At first, it was just to speak with some Army friends on base a few spread-out weekends in the month. Then it was every weekend. 

Heather found that the only thing that could keep him home was sex. So they had sex constantly, like animals in heat. Disgusting and rutting against each other any moment they could. However, the second that it was over, he would withdraw again. He would get dressed and say he had to get to the base. 

Then he was coming late, drunk and slurring, as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and woke her up with sensual touches and dirty talk. She took this as a good sign he was coming home to his wife. He was fucking her and no one else. But slowly, he stopped coming home. He would call her late at night to tell her he would stay with a friend for the night. The following day, he would come home smelling sweet. 

Heather felt lost, searching desperately for something to save her marriage. She was devoting all of her love to a man who no longer wanted it, and she could feel him falling out of love with her. 

Her saving grace was the morning that she found out she was pregnant. She called David with tears in her eyes and told him softly over the phone, and she heard him laugh for the first time in months. And just like that, he was back. 

His soft touches, kisses in the grocery store, and dancing with her in the living room were all back. Her devoted and dotting husband had returned home to her. She could feel the dark cloud of the past couple of months dissipate and the sun shining on her. 

That light lasted a good three months. Heather sat up straight as pain coursed through her body, thundering in her abdomen as she shook David awake with tears streaming down her face. Something was wrong with the baby; she knew it. He drove her to the hospital as fast as he could, but it was too late. She had already miscarried.

Heather took a small sabbatical from work and took time to think about her life. She would stare out of their living room window blankly for hours. David was attentive at first, coming home after work and tending to Heather’s broken spirit. But he soon became bored of that routine. 

When Heather returned to the pediatric oncology unit, David was notified that he was being deployed again to Okinawa, Japan. He was packed and ready by the end of that month. She didn’t see him off at the airport, picking up an extra shift at the hospital to distract her from the fact that he was leaving her again. 

David called her two months into his leave to tell her he wasn’t happy. He wanted a divorce. Then he hung up before she could get a word in. That’s when it all started. Her obsession with consuming anything romantic was almost debilitating. She would visit bookstores and attend readings at the public library, sometimes calling off from work to sit at home with her romances. That’s when she saw you again. She thought that you would have stayed in Norfolk. You had once told her that you loved the water. You liked how it could look gloomy and promising on different days, with mist rolling off the surface. 

She tried not to talk to you. She did. She didn’t want to scare you away like she scared David away. No, no, no, she was sure it would all work out this time. So she loved you from a comfortable distance, watching you from her car on the weekends at night, leaving you her gifts on your windshield—a silent courting. 

She couldn’t help herself on Valentine’s Day. She had slipped into Nicole Smith’s room without Adeline recognizing her, and she gave the table with Adeline’s purse on it a gentle knock with her hip. Heather apologized quickly, telling her not to worry. She promptly dropped to the floor to gather the spilled contents from Adeline’s bag, and she slipped a labeled key connected to a keychain that read ‘or die’ into her pocket. Once she had copied the key, she quickly returned the original to its owner. 

She felt electric when she entered your apartment on Valentine's Day in a dark outfit, a hood covering her face, and four dozen rose petals in a container. She breathed in your perfume as she perused through your bathroom. She traced the spine of every book she could touch on your shelves. She gently dove into your dirty hamper and quickly pulled out a pair of dirty underwear, blood on the inside of them as she shamelessly slipped them into her pocket. Then she got to work spreading the petals throughout your apartment. By the end, she stared at her work, panting lightly as she lay across on your rose-covered bed. 

She had to have you. 

Present Day- March 5, 20XX

Derek and Spencer managed to get to the public library an hour before closing. They pulled your coworker, Valerie, aside. She was a pretty brunette, glasses resting on her face delicately as she stared at the two men with a soft look of disappointment. She knew that if they were here, they had yet to find you, and the thought made her feel like breaking down in a fit of tears. She fought the urge to cry as Derek asked her a question, sliding a copy of the Polaroid you had received on your windshield. “Do you happen to remember anyone coming in with a Polaroid camera?” 

Valerie stared at the Polaroid with a soft frown, trying to remember something helpful. Spencer spoke quickly, “Sometime around January fourteenth, maybe?”

Valerie chewed on her bottom lip before the memory washed over her, “Yes! Yes, oh gosh, she was blonde, I think. I remember telling her we didn’t like flash photography in the library. I only saw the back of her head, but I remember the back of her head and the flash of a camera.” 

Spencer tilted his head slightly and nodded at Valerie’s words, processing the information silently.“Are you sure it was a woman?” Spencer asked softly before Valarie enthusiastically nodded. 

“Yes, it was definitely a woman who took the picture.” She confirmed in a soft voice before she looked down at the Polaroid with a gentle tenderness in her eyes. “She baked me cookies last week, you know?” She looked up at the two men with a sad smile and tears in her eyes. “My cat is sick, and she made me cookies to make me feel better.” She laughed sadly as the tears started to fall. 

Derek placed a soft hand over Valerie’s and gave her a tender look, “We’re looking for her,” The words caused a shaky sigh to escape Valarie’s lips as she pulled her hand away quickly and stood up. 

Her cheeks were red as she cried out a soft “Excuse me.” before she turned on her heel and hurriedly left the room. 

Spencer picked up the picture and stared at you in the photo. The way your hair shined in the fluorescent light, your eyes and smile trained directly on the person you were talking to. You were personable, and the thought made his stomach turn. He looked over at Derek as Spencer handed the photo back to him. 

The two men walked out of the library silently, and Derek let out a soft sigh as he watched the sun starting to settle against the horizon. Spencer walked beside him with his hand stuffed in his pockets, and his head hung a little low in thought. 

Derek broke the silence first, “We should get back to the station to see if JJ and Rossi have anything,” 

And then they rode back in contemplative silence after that. 

March 6, 20XX

You weren’t sure if it was day or night anymore. All you knew was that you were starting to feel uneven. Every creak of wood, settling of pipes, and rumble of the house had your back straightening against the bed. You were sure that Heather would fly in at any moment and touch you. 

A million options weighed heavy in your mind at the scenario; you could fight back again, but that would get you sliced again or worse. You could go with it, zone out as much as possible, let her have her way with you. That option made your head spin with nausea. You had to find a way to get out. 

You licked at the gash on your lip, gently exploring the cut with your tongue until you could feel the warmth of blood again. You pushed your tongue back into your mouth and looked over at your day-old apple on the nightstand, half-eaten and brown. You tenderly took a small bite that wouldn’t require you to move your lips too much. 

You didn’t have much of the day-old meal left; a half-full water and this apple was all you had. You chewed softly, fighting off the nausea that threatened to creep in due to the morphine. 

You tried to remember anything that could be helpful to you. It was hard to think of high doses of morphine. You had played with the knob often; when you were ready to sleep, it would go up, and when you were up, it would turn down. But lately, you just wanted it to be turned up. 

You tried to think of when Heather came into the pink room. She always stuffed her keys into her pockets. A plan was in the making: Get her out of her clothes, and you could get the keys. 

You nodded a little despite your discomfort with the idea of her touching you again. You just had to seduce her a little, which should be easy considering that she was ‘in love’ with you. The only problem with that plan was that you had a mangled ankle and a body running on morphine; she didn’t. Heather’s temper was quick when you talked back, and rage followed if you did something against her liking. 

Maybe begging would work. No, you tried that already. Why would begging work? Perhaps you could hurt yourself just enough to force her to take you to the hospital. But that didn’t work either; she was a nurse. She wouldn’t incriminate herself like that, would she? Maybe total submission would be the key. 

Convince her that you love her back and somehow ask to be let out with her supervision, but that could take forever. 

You started to cry softly as you set down the core of the apple and laid down, wishing to pull your legs to your chest, but the pain of one ankle and the chain around the other made that physically impossible. 

You cried until you felt your eyelids become heavy, tears still slipping out of your eyes as you fell into a morphine-induced sleep. 

March 6, 20XX

JJ paced back and forth in front of the bulletin board, occasionally flicking her eyes over to the photos pinned to it as she tried to chase what was likely to be a loose end. The number that had called yours and left a message full of sobs had been a burner. 

Spencer had tried to tell her to eat something this morning, but as the clock’s hands crept towards nine a.m., she still didn’t feel hungry enough to try. She sighed out another frustrated huff as Emily appeared in front of her. “If you sigh like that one more time, I think I might have to force a croissant down your throat.” 

JJ gave her another dramatic sigh before she put her hands on her hips: “I’m sorry, I just feel like we have no leads. We know it's a woman, but Adeline isn’t likely to be the unsub, and all her coworkers have alibis. It just feels like we are running around with our heads cut off.” 

Emily smiled and gave her a gentle nod of understanding, “I get it, but you pacing around like this isn’t helping anyone. Let’s get you a drink, coffee, or maybe something to eat.” 

“People who eat breakfast consistently are twenty-five percent likely to be more productive at work,” Spencer spoke up from a desk not too far from the two women. 

Emily pointed over at Spencer, “See? You’re making Spencer freak out.” 

“I’m not freaked out,” Spencer frowned at the comment before looking back at a file on the desk. 

JJ’s smile was slow as she let her hands fall to her side and let out a soft, “Fine.” She agreed as Emily walked over to the precinct's breakroom, JJ following her. 

Derek was clicking a pen obnoxiously in an off-beat rhythm. He was about to say something when his phone started to ring on his desk. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered it anyway. “Hello?” 

“Hi, uhm, is this Special Agent Morgan?” Adeline’s voice was shaky through the phone. 

Derek relaxed slightly as he set down his pen. “Yeah, Adeline. Did something happen?” He couldn’t think of another reason as to why she would call the number he had left with her if nothing happened. He was too focused on the case to think of any other reason anyway. 

“Yeah, maybe? I was talking to one of the nurses about something today, and I recognized one of them. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner, but it was an old friend from college. She was more Y/N’s friend than mine, but I talked to her a little.” Adeline’s voice dropped to a whisper as she continued, “I mentioned that she was missing, and Heather had a weird reaction. She smiled for a second. I swear, she said she was sad to hear that, but she looked… well, for a second, it just seemed like maybe she was happy.” 

Derek picked the pen back up again, ready to write down a name. It wasn’t much, but they could visit her. “What was her name again?” 

“Gosh, it was Heather something… Heather, Heather, Heather,” She bit her lip as she tried to think back. “Alexander! Heather Alexander.” 

Derek wrote it down and muttered quickly, “We'll look into it, thanks.” As a goodbye, he let Adeline quickly thank him over the phone before he hung up and called Penelope. 

Penelope, quick as always, picked up on the first ring. “Center of divine intellect,” was her greeting. 

“Good morning to you, too, baby girl. Listen, could you get Heather Alexander's address? Adeline Smith called saying that she had a strange reaction to hearing about our girl going missing.” 

“Easy,” was her answer before Derek could hear the sounds of keys being tapped against and a soft humming sound emitting from Penelope’s lips as she pulled up the address: “4432 Lake Margaret Pl., Chesterfield, Virginia.” 

“You are an angel, Garcia.” 

“I always aim to please,” 

“And you never fail, baby girl.” 

JJ had begged Derek with her eyes to let her go with Spencer. It was just an interview, not even an interrogation, just to see if the connection between you and Heather went deeper than old college friends. So why shouldn’t she go? 

Derek wasn’t one to put up a big fight, so he let her with Spencer. It was only thirty minutes away anyway, so if they needed the team it wouldn’t take too long for them to show up, right? He stayed behind on the phone with Garcia, who was doing her best to see if Heather had any criminal history on her record. 

As the car rolled around the cul de sac, Spencer’s eyes struggled to look away from the plethora of plants in the fenced-in front yard. Pink anemones were scattered amongst daffodils, and what looked like daisies were blooming side by side. JJ rolled the car to a stop, parking it against the curb. 

“Pretty yard,” She muttered as she took the keys out of the ignition. Spencer nodded a little; he had to admit that Spring came in a close second to Fall as the superior season in his mind. The flowers growing after frozen earth had kept them dormant, the welcomed feeling of the sun getting slightly warmer. It was still somewhat chilly at ten in the morning as he stepped out of the car with JJ, but he had to admit, it was shaping up to be a beautiful day weather-wise. 

His head tilted back a little as he stole a glance at the blue sky above them and smiled before stuffing his hands into his pockets and tilting his head toward the house. JJ smiled and walked beside him, happy to be out of the precinct and in the early morning air.

Heather was washing the paring knife she had used on you in her kitchen sink, facing a large bay window in her living room. She swiped at the hardened blood and frowned a little at the memory. Why was she so upset with you? She could hardly remember herself when she got angry like that. 

It was almost fitting, her flying off the handle over something so simple as you not being ready for her love. Was she no better than a man? Had she gotten so accustomed to men's vile and sharp ways that she had somehow forgotten how to be gentle? 

She felt her hands shake as a voice came into her head, whispering her worst fear: She was worse than her father. 

She let tears blur her vision at the thought as she rubbed the knife harder with a sponge, shaking her head quickly. No, no, no, no. She was not like that man. She was not cold like that man. She was lovable. She felt love. She felt overwhelming love for you. She had felt overwhelming love for David. 

Her downward spiral was cut short as she lifted her weeping head and saw a black SUV parked in front of her yard. She quickly wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand and sniffled lightly as she gently slid the knife into the dishwasher, watching two people get out of the van. 

Heather’s eyes were glued to the blonde at first, pretty and fair in the morning sun before her eyes flickered to the man beside her. She recognized him immediately. She was sure it was the same man she almost ran into at the hospital yesterday. 

She dried her hands as she walked around the kitchen island. As they got closer, her head arched to see how close they were. Panic was running through her veins. Her gun was in her room upstairs, loaded. She just had to get upstairs; her feet were quick to try and run upstairs and stash it somewhere close before they could ring the doorbell. Just as the idea seemed plausible enough, the bell rang through the house. 

Heather let out a silent scream of panic as she smoothed out her shirt, fixed her hair, and caught a quick glance of her pretty face in the mirror near the front door before she swung it open with a pleasantly fake smile on her face. Her eyes quickly scanned both of their faces as she smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi. My name is Jennifer Jareau. This is Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI, and we were just wondering if we could ask you some questions.” JJ spoke clearly as she flashed her badge at Heather, a slight smile on her lips as she looked into Heather’s eyes. Spencer recognized her, finding it strange that he had almost run directly into the beautiful woman at the hospital just the day before. 

Heather laughed softly and nodded as she stepped aside, opening the door wider to let the two agents inside. “Of course,” Her hands were shaking, but she gripped the edge of the door tightly, half tempted to slam it directly in their faces and go upstairs to shoot Catherine and herself to freedom.  

They weren’t on to her yet; she was sure of that– especially given their lack of people– just two against one. She was quick to shut the door behind them before leading the two of them into her living room. “Can I get you two any water? I have some juice.” 

The two agents shook their heads in a polite ‘no, thank you’ way as they sat on the sofa across from Heather. Heather sat on a chair with a soft “Okay” as she eyed them carefully. “Am I in some kind of trouble here?” 

“No, We just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding an old college friend of yours, Y/N L/N.” 

“Well,” She smoothed out her long skirt slowly, remembering to breathe normally, “What about her?” 

“Had you been in contact with her at all? Did she mention anything about someone following her?” 

Heather let out a gentle laugh as she shook her head, “I haven’t really had the time to reach out to old friends lately,” 

Spencer’s interest peaked as he joined the conversation, “How come?” 

Heather’s gaze became a little pointed at the question. Of course, the man has to ask her, “I lost a baby recently, and my husband was deployed soon after, so forgive me for not becoming pen pals with someone I knew at eighteen.” The words were direct and vicious, but she couldn’t help herself. She blew out a soft sigh before she let out a gentle and timid, “I’m sorry,” 

Spencer licked his lips nervously as he leaned back against the sofa slightly, trying to resist the urge to disappear into it. Self-isolation wasn’t uncommon for women who had recently suffered from a miscarriage. That feeling more than likely increased as her support system was ripped away from her. 

JJ gently touched Spencer’s knee before she cut the tension. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Alexander. We’re just trying to piece some information together.” 

Heather ran a hand through her hair before she gave JJ a tight-lipped smile. “I understand that; I’m sorry. Would it be alright if I ran upstairs for some medicine? I feel a headache coming on.” She spoke fast with a tense voice, trying her hardest to pass it off as pain with a rub of her temple. When JJ nodded, she stood up and headed upstairs as calmly as she could manage. 

JJ looked over at Spencer, watching Heather walk away carefully. “She seems angrier with men than anything.” Her voice was slightly amused before Spencer frowned. 

“Doesn’t mean she’s in the clear; stalking is often a form of intense infatuation, but it's also used as a way to control something. She’s struggling with two things that could be our stressors: she’s craving control or dependency. She-” The soft ringing of his phone cut off his whispered rant. He answered it, happy that at least it was just Garcia calling, hoping for a better lead than his ongoing hunch. 

He stood and looked at JJ, who was mouthing for him to go outside, “Hey,” He answered as he slipped out of the front door. 

“Hey, nothing is coming up anywhere on Heather’s record for criminal activity—sorority sister, wife, nurse, clean as a whistle. However, considering we don’t have much right now, I decided to see if she had any warnings at work.” 

“Right,” Spencer looked over his shoulder at the front door as he walked away to stand in front of the garage. 

“Well, last month, she got a write-up for stealing some morphine; her supervisor forced her to go see a therapist after Heather said that she was using it for some leftover pain she was experiencing after her miscarriage. But Heather never showed,” 

Spencer was walking a little further down the driveway as he listened to Garcia talk on the phone, counting the number of windows in the house. His eyes narrowed slightly to try and block out the sun before he looked away. He licked his bottom lip gently before acting on his little hunch, “Could you check her credit report? See if there are any purchases that you can find that seem odd around March third?” 

“Could I check her credit report,” Garcia repeated with a laugh, “Hold on, boy genius.” 

Spencer could see the top of JJ’s head from the bay window, and he turned away slightly, finding ease in the fact that she was still there. Something felt off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. “She went to the store, but nothing crazy. Bought,” He could hear typing, “Bleach and rubbing alcohol.” 

Spencer chewed on the inside of his cheek as he asked, “When was her husband deployed again? Did she buy anything from a florist around Valentine’s Day?” 

“Husband was deployed December first and,” she hummed gently before she sighed, “Bought some flowers on Valentine’s day, rose petals.” 

Spencer felt that feeling when something connected in his brain, a rush of adrenaline as he felt his hunch slowly turn into a plausible accusation. The roses were just that, roses. But the bleach and rubbing alcohol? That’s a recipe for chloroform right there. And finally, Heather’s husband was deployed at the beginning of December, stressor number two. It made him feel slightly hopeful about walking back into the house. “Thanks, Garcia.” He said as his feet reached the end of the driveway. He hung up the phone, walking back towards the house at a fast pace when the familiar and startling 'crack' of a gun reached his ears. 

His hands drew his gun out of the holster, running back towards the house. He pushed the front door open with his foot as he heard the thumping of footsteps running on the stairs. He rounded the corner to the living room before lowering his gun as he saw JJ bleeding from a bullet wound in her thigh. 

“JJ!” His voice panicked as he reached her groaning side, kneeling low to the ground next to her. “What happened?” 

JJ shook her head quickly, “I’m calling for backup. She ran upstairs. She didn’t even try to,” her eyes squeezed shut tightly as a sharp pain rattled through her inner thigh, “Just go!” She urged him as she reached down for the phone in her back pocket, her free hand pressing on her gushing wound to try and slow the bleeding. 

Spencer’s eyes were filled with uncertainty as he let out a soft, “No, I’ll stay here until everyone gets-” 

“Spencer, go!” 

Spencer felt his spine straighten at the second command. He gave her a grim nod as he stood up, readied his gun, and started for the stairs. His footsteps were soft and calculated as he ascended, pink light flooding the floor as he approached the top of the stairs. He could hear gentle begging in a voice too soft and thick to be Heather’s. 

“Please, Heather, please, my love. Don’t, please don’t.” Repetitive cries for mercy made his legs move faster until he approached an opened door. The regular-looking bedroom door gave way to a steel one just behind it before revealing the scene of what looked like a demented love nest. 

Spencer swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in the scene. Gun pointed carefully at Heather as he spoke, “Heather, put down the gun. You love her. You don’t want to hurt her. You know that.” 

Heather jumped a little at the sound, her pistol clicking softly as her sweaty palms tightened their grip. She was quick to turn her body around to face him with the gun aimed directly at him as she spoke. “Don’t pretend like you know me or her. You don’t know our relationship. She wants this just as much as I do.” 

“You know she doesn’t look at her. Look at what you’re doing to her.” 

Heather’s eyes drifted to you, chained to the bed, watching as you hyperventilate softly. Heather felt her bottom lip quiver before she looked back at Spencer. “She’s just scared. You’re making me do this. She knows you’re making me do this.” 

Spencer’s eyes drifted to your crying form on the bed, trying to keep your sobs quiet as you stared at him with wild eyes. He glanced over at the morphine drip next to your bed before his eyes settled back on Heather. His lips parted to say something more, but she cut him off quickly, “Put your gun down, and I won’t do it.” 

Heather’s body language gives her away as she motions for him to put his gun down, her eyes crazed and large, her hands shaking and rigid against her pistol. “I’m not going to-” 

“Put your fucking, gun down, or she dies,” Heather yells so loud that it elicits a soft sob from your lips, your arms coming up to protect your head, ready for the shot to be administered and for your brains to be blown out in front of Spencer in that very moment. 

Spencer holds up both of his hands at that; he swears he can hear the soft sounds of sirens in the distance as he lowers his gun to the floor slowly, his foot gently kicking the gun away with a soft ‘clack.’

“Now you,” his calm voice says as he raises his hands, inching closer. Tears stream down Heather’s face now as she shakes her head gently. 

“I have to,” Is her tear-soaked reply as she keeps the barrel pointed at Spencer’s head, her fingers twitching lightly as they move for the trigger. Your shaking voice cuts through the scene, and Spencer is pretty sure it’s the only thing that is stopping him from diving for his gun a few feet from him. 

“Heather, baby,” Your voice betrays you as you speak the pet name, coming off a little too forced, but you continue anyway. “He can help. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. We can be happy, and we can get away. He can help, right?” Your arms relax around your head slowly as you look over at Spencer, who nods silently. 

“I can, but you have got to put your gun down.” 

Heather chokes out a strangled sob as she looks over at you, watching as you smile at her. You know it’s forced, but Heather can only view it as the prettiest thing she’s ever seen—a great parting gift. 

She feels spit thick on her tongue as she evaluates her options: kill Spencer and go to jail. Kill you, and she might not have enough time to kill herself. Killing herself seems like the best plan out of the three, so she holds her gun steady at Spencer as she looks at your now bleeding smile. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, almost so human that you feel your heart clench in pity before that clenching feeling turns into pure anxiety as you see the movement of her arm. Spencer’s feet aren't quick enough for him to tackle her to the ground as Heather raises the gun to her temple and pulls the trigger. 

Her body drops to the edge of the bed, sliding down it as you feel blood coat your legs. Your ears are ringing, and your mouth is wide open as you scream. At least you think you’re screaming. You can’t hear much but a pathetic muffle of the sound as the ringing in your ears increases.

Your hands are quick to try and wipe off chunks of what looks to be part of a skull off of your exposed stomach, and you can’t seem to stop staring at Heather’s limp body at the edge of the bed. The image of her mangled head oozing blood has you gagging softly, feeling yourself getting ready to be sick before you feel two hands cup your face. 

You’re screaming or sobbing; you can’t tell anymore as Spencer Reid’s face blocks the view. He keeps your face steady in his hands as you try to read his lips, your breathing heavy as he strokes your hair gently. His voice creeps in through the ringing until you eventually hear the soft repetition of, “I got you, look at me. Just keep looking at me; you’re safe.”

You feel your breathing slow, your arms reaching up to grab him before your eyes roll back as your body slumps against Spencer’s, and everything is engulfed in black.

Tag List: @dollykisses4reid @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333 @mmmunson

[goron-king-darunia]

Eggtober 4th, 2024

"Tears" Raw Egg on a Field of Blue.

(Krita, Chalk Detail Default Brush, 10 minutes, 6 colors.) Slapping the @quezify right up front for a change. Egg king showing off everyone's amazing egg art is really nice and I look forward to all the new eggs every day.

I also actually really like how this brush handles, where more pressure smooths out the lines and less pressure gives you that lovely texture.

Regarding life kicking my ass recently, I had a cry about it today. More accurately it was difficult to do much except cry. But maybe saying that already gives too much away. I'll be okay eventually. But for a good long while, I'm going to be a bit of a mess. But that's alright. It's part of being alive. At least I hope I believe that at the end of all this. Once again, if you know me and know why, keep that in your heart and keep supporting me through this. It means more than you guys know. And if you know me and don't know the specifics, know that it's not because I don't trust you. It's half because I don't want to burden you all with it and half because you guys being normal is so fucking good for my head right now. It really helps having some of you in the dark and just treating me normally for the most part.

I'm doing my best to take care of myself, so just keep being absolutely amazing people, all of you. It really helps so much just having y'all here while life is being an absolute rat bastard. I hope everyone having a rough time enjoys the eggs. When I get my brain to behave, I find drawing eggs really soothing. If Eggtober somehow ever stops being a thing, I might still keep drawing eggs by default as a casual doodle. Eggs and Polwigles are just really nice to draw...

If you would like to support me in this time of ass-kick and suffering, please continue sending me lots of things that you enjoy, cute animal videos, funny youtube shorts, cute art, whatever. Or feel free to join me in Eggtober and draw some eggs with me.

I may be off my game for a while yet, but I am going to keep on chugging. I adore you all. Like all things, even difficulties in life must pass. Even if I have trouble believing it right now. As long as everyone else out there believes it for me when I can't, I know I'll be okay.

[cherrycola27]

(blood)lust

Warnings: Blood, language, whump. 18+Minors DNI. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

A/N: Hey, y'all. I'm dipping my toes back into writing and trying my hands at some whump for Whumptober. This is the first of 3 TGM Whumptober fics I'll be releasing!

...........................................

When most people thought about immortality, they idolized it. They coveted the idea that they could cheat death, make a fortune, or travel, or be a part of the future that everyone dreamed of but would never be around long enough to see.

Yes, the idea of immortality had a certain air to it that drew you in like a moth to a flame, and no ever really thinks about the consequences. Just like the moth going toward the light, unaware of the fate that was waiting for it, he too was enticed by the idea.

Moreover, he was more drawn to the idea of not dying in a medical tent in the Carolina wilderness, miles away from his home, fighting for a nation that didn't even exist yet.

He was young, barely twenty-five, able-bodied, and brawny from years of working on his family's farm when the revolution broke out. He had so much to live for, so many things he wanted to do. So when the field doctor with the mysterious eyes came to him offering a cure to all of his pain and suffering from the gunshot wound to his shoulder that would surely end his life, he agreed without hesitation.

Looking back now, he realizes that maybe he should have turned the doctor down and died with the rest of his friends. The pain that came after he agreed was far worse than any gunshot. The sound of the blood rushing through his ears was louder than any cannon fire, and the burning sensation in his veins was hotter than any camp fire or summer day back on the farm.

But peace came after that. For a while—at least. Then came the thirst. The one that no matter how much water or wine or ale he drank—it couldn't be quenched. Then there was the hunger. The deep, insatiable hunger that no meal could touch. The hunger that hurt so deep in his stomach that he thought he would surely parrish as he stumbled through town that night.

Until he stumbled upon the man in the alleyway, too drunk to walk, that had cut himself on his whiskey bottle. And that's when he smelled it. The blood. Fresh and warm and oozing like red gold down the man's fingertips and onto the cobblestones. And it that moment, he knew exactly what he needed to satisfy the craving that nothing else would touch. In that moment, he realized what the doctor he'd never seen again had turned him into, a creature he'd only heard about in tales that parents told to scare their children.

That night, as he feasted, he had an epiphany, he'd been granted a gift, and he wasn't going to waste it.

.......................

Two hundred and some odd years later, he didn't feel the same about his "gift" as he did back then. In fact, it was more like a curse. He was damned to wander the earth forever, which meant he was damned to be alone. He'd watched everyone he ever loved die. First, starting with his mother in the winter of 1781, then, his wife and son ten years later during childbirth. He'd tried saving them the way the doctor had done for him, both times, when he'd sunk his teeth into the soft, supple flesh of their necks and tasted their blood, he couldn't stop. It was like a demon possessed him, inhibiting him from hearing their cries and blinding his vision until he'd drained them dry, leaving their bodies limp and lifeless in his arms.

For a while, he vowed never to try again and never to love again until he knew he could find a way to keep her forever.

So, for the next two centuries after the death of his wife, child, and mother, he practiced. Starting on small animals at first, working his way up to larger ones, the eventually people.

He'd successfully master the art of turning, and now, he needed to find the perfect mate. Someone to spend eternity with.

He suspected that it would take him a while to find the right one. He certainly wasn't expecting it the night he walked into the bar and was hit with the most enticing scent he'd ever experienced.

He followed it until he found you.

You were exactly what he was looking for. You were probably around the same age that he told people he was. You were beautiful. A stunning natural beauty that drew him to you.

An aura that called him. A beacon of light in his darkness.

So, he walked right up to you, and asked "can I buy you another drink?"

You turned to the handsome stranger who'd offered to buy you a drink and gave him the once over. He oozed charisma and charm. His eyes, that could only be described as golden, sparkled as he flashed you a stunning smile.

"Sure, thing. I'll take another tequila on the rocks." You told him. He laughed before ordering one for each of you.

Once that glasses appeared before the two of you, you cheersed before extending your hand and introducing yourself.

He took your out stretched arm and brought the back of your hand to his lips, and placed a kiss there. "Charmed to meet you, darling. I'm Bradley, Bradley Bradshaw."

Bradley didn't miss the way your pulse quickened as he held your hand. Nor did he miss the blush that crept to your cheeks. He continued to sit there at the bar and talk to you for hours. And the longer he did, the more it affirmed for him that you were definitely the girl he had been looking for you. You'd been the perfect girl to have around forever. Now, he just had to convince you of the same.

..............

If Bradley has learned anything in his 273 years of life, it's patience. If he was going to convince you to be his eternal bride, he knew he'd have to play the long game. He wasn't deterred by the fact that it may take months, maybe even a few years, to convince you. He had been waiting to find someone like you for over two centuries. A little longer wouldn't hurt. Which is why he was perfectly fine in agreeing to take the relationship that was budding between the two of you as slowly as you wanted.

Bradley had also learned to be discreet about who—what he was. As the world moved on, and his age stayed the same, Bradley made sure never to stay in one place for too long. He also learned that taking jobs that kept him away for long stretches of time helped provide the perfect cover for when he needed to sneak away and feed.

Right after he was first turned—the fledgling stage, he would later learn what it was called— Bradley wasn't as careful when it came to choosing his meals. Anyone who had the misfortune of crossing his path when his thirst arose would become one of his victims. He couldn't bear to be around people because the tangy metallic scent of their blood drove him mad with need.

Later, he learned to control it. He could function in society and keep up the act. And for a while, it worked. Until he took the wrong person as a meal.

She was the daughter of the local pastor, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. After she disappeared, the police began looking, asking questions. Bradley became paranoid that someone saw him, that he wasn't careful enough.

So he fled town and vowed to himself that he'd only feed on people he knew wouldn't be missed. Criminals, the homeless, vagrants, and vagabonds with no one to come looking for them, no one to ask questions.

He'd come to San Diego about ten years ago, claiming that he was twenty-two. Shaving his mustache and letting his hair grow helped make it believable. The one thing all the stories get wrong about being immortal is that your hair and nails stop growing. They don't. And for that, Bradley was thankful.

Because of this, he learned he could spend about fifteen to twenty years in one place before speculation arose. A shaggy haircut and a beard can do wonders for a person.

............

Maybe that's why it was so easy for you to believe that Bradley was thirty-three. Despite the fact that he seemed like an old soul, wise beyond his years.

He also told you he was in the Navy and that he was an aviator, which meant he had frequent deployments and trips for work that he couldn't tell you about. Which is why you never questioned him when he told you he was leaving for a few days or weeks or months the longer the two of you were together.

You never suspect that half of those "trips" and "deployments" were, in fact, times when Bradley traveled somewhere to feed.

He was smart. Making sure to go to a different state, so if what was left of the body was ever found, it could never be traced back to him.

He had a system, a routine, a schedule that worked and kept him under the radar and undetected for decades. It worked for him, and eventually, he would share his secrets with you, and the two of you would stay in the shadows together forever.

...............

You were busy in the kitchen of the house you and Bradley shared. He was due back from his latest deployment today, and you wanted to make sure he had a hot meal waiting for him. You wanted to make sure he had plenty of fuel for the plans you had later for the two of you.

Not that he ever seemed to need it. Your boyfriend had the most amazing stamina. More so than any partner you've had before. He told you it because he was an elite fighter pilot, the top one percent, and being the best at everything was in his blood. You had to agree with him. Bradley could go for hours, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you, and never asking for more than one of his own in return.

You shivered as you flipped the steaks that were in the grill pan you had on the stove. You pulled the one for Bradley off the heat while leaving yours to cook a bit longer. He always preferred his more on the rare side, while you favored a more medium cooked steak.

You'd just finished setting the table when you heard Bradley's keys in the door. "Honey!" You squealed as you launched yourself at him. He easily caught you and held your frame against him.

"Hello, My Darling Girl." Bradley smiled as he kissed you passionately. His lips glided across yours before he trailed them across the column of your throat, stopping when they reached the juncture of your neck and shoulders. He grazed his canines over the pulse point that was thrumming just below your delicate skin.

"Bradley—" you groaned into his neck, gentle pushing on his chest. "Yes, Darling?" He asked you, pulling you closer to him. "I made dinner." You chuckled. "We can eat later. I missed you, My Darling Girl." He whispered against your ear.

"No, I want to make sure you have plenty of fuel in you for the plans I have for you later." You laugh again before dragging him to the dining room for a hot meal, blissfully unaware that the food you made would have no effect on your boyfriend.

That night, you let Bradley carry to your shared bedroom and strip you down the crimson lingerie you'd chosen specifically for the occasion. You let him tear the delicate lace from your body with his teeth, and then, you let him make love to you for hours until both of you were sated and his cum was dripping down your thighs and sweat covered your skin.

In the early hours of the morning, Bradley lay quietly beside you, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept. It had been two years since that faithful day he met you and knew you were destined to be his mate. As he watched you, he knew in his heart that it was time to tell you about his plan. Hopefully, you wouldn't take much convincing, and under the next new moon, he'd take you up to one of his—hunting— cabins and change you. He'd find a perfect first feed for you, and teach you everything you needed to know. Then, once your fledgling phase was over, the two of you would have a bonding ceremony to seal your love forever.

Bradley could feel that the time was coming soon. All the work he'd put in. Moulding you—grooming you— shaping you into his perfect mate would soon come to fruition.

.....................

Bradley had been acting—different— the past few weeks. Not different in a bad way, but doting on you much more than normal. He'd taken you out to a few fancy dinners, bought you some new clothes, and he came home every day with a new flower arrangement. He'd also given you the most beautiful necklace you'd seen. Honestly, you weren't sure how he afforded all of this, and when you asked him about it, he told you not to worry. He'd been so calm lately. You hoped he would be that way when you gave him the news you'd just received.

You waited patiently in the living room for Bradley to come home. When you heard his keys in the door, you jumped up to greet him. "Hello, My Darling Girl." Bradley smiled before kissing you passionately.

"Bradley, come sit. I have some news to share with you." You told him as you led him by the hand to the couch. His mind raced with what it could be.

Could you be pregnant? It wasn't unheard of for his kind and mortals to have a child together. That was how he lost his first wife, Elizabeth, and his son, Nicholas.

Her body couldn't handle the labor. Thankfully, Bradley knew what to do this time. If you were pregnant, he'd start the changing right before you gave birth. The strength the change offered you would see you through the labor.

His heart raced at the idea. Maybe this was the second chance he'd been waiting for.

"Bradley." You let out a long exhale as he sat there waiting patiently.

"Yes?" He eagerly replied.

"I've been offered a job!" You told him excitedly.

"What? You already have a job." He said dejectedly.

"I know, but this is a promotion. Head of the new office in Virginia. Isn't that wonderful? I know it might take some time to get your transfer in, but my office is willing to work with us. You could be back home! We would be so much closer to your family!" You bounced with excitement on the balls of your feet.

"Darling, it sounds like a wonderful opportunity, but I'm happy here. I don't want to move." Bradley told you. His voice was more stern than normal. Your smile fell from your face.

"Wha—what do you mean? Bradley, this is everything I've been working for. I've supported your career with your deployments and moves more times than I care to count in the past few years. I know it seems like a lot, but this is what I've always dreamed of. Why can't you see that?" You pleaded with him.

Bradley inhaled sharply. "We aren't moving to Virginia. That's final." He said with no room for argument.

Rage bubbled inside you. How dare he say that to you. After all you'd done for him.

"You're right. We aren't moving. I am." You deadpanned.

Bradley turned on his heels. Your words hit him in the chest like a dagger. No, he thought. No, no, no. After all the work he'd done, there is no way he's letting you leave him now. You were staying with him whether you liked it or not. Bradley had worked too hard to let you go. He'd spent decades learning to control his temper. The unbridled rage that could come with what he was. He'd kept it under wraps for decades. But hearing you say that you'd give him up so quickly? It caused something inside of him to snap.

................

You weren't sure what was happening. One minute, you were packing a bag to leave. The next, you felt a jolt of pain shoot through your neck. Then, your whole body felt like it was on fire, burning from the inside out. You cried out for Bradley, begging him to help you, to save you from the invisible attacker. But instead, all you heard was a voice that almost sounded like his, whispering in your ear that it would all be over soon.

...............

When consciousness came back to you. It was slow. The first thing you noticed was the smell. You weren't wrapped in the warm vanilla scent of your home. No, you were somewhere near the woods. You could smell the dirt and hear birds somewhere in the distance.

The next thing you noticed were the sheets. The soft cotton ones of your bed had been replaced by a stiff and scratchy flannel.

You slowly opened your eyes and sat up. You didn't recognize the room you were in. The walls were bare and wooden. Some kind of a cabin, maybe. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, and that's when you felt it. The thirst. The overwhelming urge to drink. But you didn't want water. You wanted something else. You just didn't know what.

"Hello?" You called out tentatively, unsure of who else was there.

"My Darling Girl. You're finally awake." You whipped around so fast you made yourself dizzy. Bradley stood before you, his large form leaning on the door frame. Only something was off about him. He wasn't the Bradley you once knew. He stepped forward and smiled, and for the first time, you noticed how prominent his canines were. Had they always been like that?

"Bradley. Where am I? How did I get here? Did you—did you kidnap me?" You shriek, eyes darting around the room. You try to breathe, but you can't get any air into your lungs.

"Darling, calm down. You're going to hurt yourself. Tell me. How are you feeling?" He says so smoothly.

"I feel like I want to know what the fuck is going on." You spit at him. "Where are we?"

"We are at one of my hunting cabins. I figured it would help with the adjustment if we weren't near people." He tells you

"H—help with what adjustment?" You say as you clear your throat. A burning sensation creeping in. "What—what did you do to me?" You say as you being to claw at your skin.

"I changed you—for the better. I made you perfect. The perfect mate for me for all eternity. I know it must be a shock, but you'll get used to it. I'll help you, My Love." Bradley tells you as he glides across the room to you and turns your towards the mirror you hadn't noticed before. You look in it and see yourself, well, almost yourself. Something is different. You just can't place it. You trace your eyes over your features, and then you see them. Two small puncture wounds on your neck. Your hand flies to to them.

"Don't worry, they'll go away. But these—" Bradley says, and he pulls your gums back to reveal your new elongated canines, "these are permanent."

You run your tongue over your teeth and wince at their sharpness. "Don't worry. You'll get used to them." Bradley assures you, taking a step back. Just then, you hear a thump in from another room. "Ah, perfect, looks like it woke up just in time." He smiles.

"What do you mean 'it'?" You ask him harshly. "Your first feed, My Darling Girl. I know you feel the thirst. Every fledgling does. I know it did. Believe me, your first feed is always the hardest, so I brought you one. I wanted to make this as easy as possible for you." He says almost kindly.

"Easy? You wanted to make this easy on me? Bradley, you kidnapped me and brought me to the middle of nowhere and turned me into a—a—a—" you can't finish your sentence.

"Vampire. It's okay, you can say it, dear. I turned you into a vampire so we can be together forever. Of course, I hadn't planned on doing it this early, but when you said you were going to leave me, I knew I had to act then. I've spent the past two years grooming you into the perfect mate for me. I knew it was you from the first time I picked up your scent at the bar. Ideally, you would have willingly let me change you, but it doesn't matter now." Bradley tells you calmly.

"You've been planning to do this to me ever since you met me? How could you! I trusted you! I loved you. I thought you loved me?!" You wailed. "I do love you. That's why I did all of this. Why I brought you to my hunting cabin. Why I found a first feed for you. Why I've practiced for years getting the art of transforming right. All for you." Bradley says.

"I'm not the first person you've done this too?" You ask in disbelief. "Well, I had to practice to get it right. After I lost my mother and my first wife because I failed at transforming them, I vowed never to do it again until I perfected it. I started on small creatures and then worked my way up to people. But don't worry. I killed them after. I couldn't have a bunch of my own creations trying to kill me." Bradley laughs.

"First wife? Creations? What the hell is wrong with you. How could you ever think I'd want to spend my life with you after what you did to me? How long have you been like this?" You fire questions at him.

"I was born in 1751, changed in 1776 by a field doctor during the Revolutionary War. I've been practicing turning since about 1900. But I never let my creations live long after I turned them, lest they take revenge and try to kill me. You see, the movies and the books have it all wrong. Garlic and wooden stakes aren't what kills a vampire. We can only be killed by a dagger through the heart by our creator or one of our creations. A creation killing their creator also reverses the effects. Turns them human again. I couldn't risk that so I made sure to take care of that before it became an issue." Bradley explains to you.

"You see, I've been alone for so long. I was married to a wonderful woman, Elizabeth, but she died during childbirth. I couldn't save her. I vowed to myself that I'd never love again until I could keep her forever. And you were the one I choose for that, My Darling Girl. You're special, perfect, my perfect mate. I picked you out of everyone." Bradley tells you as he cups your face. You look in his eyes and don't see the man you once knew. He's long gone, replaced by this—monster. But if you wanted to survive, you knew you'd have to play into his fantasy.

"I see now. It all makes so much sense. Now I know why you didn't want me to leave." You say what he wanted to hear.

"Exactly. And in one year's time, when your fledgling phase is over, we'll have a bonding ceremony, sealing our love with a blood pact, so we can never be separated." Bradley tells you with a smile.

"That sounds wonderful." You lie to him. "I knew you'd see my way. Now, let me help you with your first feed." Bradley smiled as you let him lead you by the hand to the other room.

...................

Lying to someone for a full year is much harder than anyone expects. But you knew if you wanted to survive, and for your plan to work, you had too.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. Even though this wasn't what you wanted, you looked stunning. A long-sleeved, lace, stark white gown hugged your body. A crown of blood-red roses on your head. Exactly what Bradley wanted you to wear.

You stepped out of the cabin your home, no, your prison for the last year and made your way across the field. The bright light of the full moon illuminated the area, causing your dress to practically glow in the light.

Bradley was standing near the edge of the clearing, waiting for you. You could see the glint of the bonding dagger in his hand reflecting in the moonlight.

"My Darling Girl. You look breathtaking. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment." Bradley praised you as he took your hand in his.

"Are you ready?" He asked you. "I've been ready." You smile at him.

Bradley takes the dagger in his right hand and makes a slice across his palm, then hands it to you. Your fingers wrap around the grip tightly.

"I've been dreaming of this moment all year." You tell him. "I've been counting the days."

Bradley smiles, unaware of the true meaning of your words.

You grip the dagger tightly and raise it up. Bradley waits with baited breath and watches your palm, ready for you to slice the skin. Instead, he feels something sharp pierce his chest. He looks over to see your hand wrapped around the dagger that is now in his heart.

You pull it out and watch the blood drip from the blade, staining your once pristine gown.

"My—My Darling Girl. What have you done?" Bradley asks you as he stumbles back. More blood oozes from the wound as he drops to his knees.

"I'm taking back my life. And I'm not your darling girl anymore." You sneer before he collapses dead on the ground, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream.

You feel the exact moment he dies. You feel it in the pain, searing through your body and leeching out of every pore of your skin. You feel as though you may die, but you know it's worth it.

You black out and fall to the dirt.

When you finally wake up, it's daylight. You run your tongue over your teeth, and the once sharp canines are gone. You stand up and find that your white dress is now a deep shade of maroon, and the man you once loved has shriveled up to almost nothing. You give his remains a kick, and they turn to dust, blowing away in the breeze.

You pick up your dagger from last night and walk back to the cabin and find the bag you pack. You sling it over your shoulder and grab the keys hanging from the keyring near the door. You climb into the blue Bronco that had once belonged to Bradley and drive away from the cabin, from the woods, from him, and from the nightmare, you just woke up from.

Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @horseshoegirl @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @mshistorylover @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia @atarmychick007 @queenlmno @sweetwhispersofchaos @mamaskillerqueen @withahappyrefrain

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Hey guys!

Summary: This takes place in Alexandria era. There is a welcoming party thrown for the new group. Daryl doesn't come because of his complicated relationship with Y/n but once he stops by the party, he sees Y/n being all flirty and nasty with Spencer lol and Daryl gets superrr jeaolus only for him and y/n to end up arguing like crazyyy and kinda make a scene at the party (?). Daryl and y/n are like friends with benefits??? but it's complicated :/ and this is like a moment where Daryl realizes y/n is more than somebody he happens to share a bed with now and then.

Also they are not DATING. they're just fucking now and then with no strings attached. no emotions involved (atleast that's what they agreed to without ever talking) so this isn't cheating!!!

Warnings: mentions of rape. Spencer being an asshole and trying to take advantage of drunk Y/n. Daryl punching Spencer. Suggestive content. Lemme know if there is more!

this is more of a fancy welcoming party than that of in the show. they aren't gonna show up with jeans and stuff!

Y/n ran her fingers through her body, looking at the her reflection on the mirror with dilated pupils; not being able to take her eyes off of herself. She got all dolled up, her hair and make up done. She was wearing an alluring, ostentatious dress that was hugging her curves flawlessly which was given to her from a lovely woman in Alexandria. Y/n's head was slightly tilted as she kept eyeing herself.

"Ugh I can't even remember the last time I wore a dress." Rosita complained. Y/n looked over at her and gently grinned.

"I know right." Y/n said "Me neither." she added.

Y/n kept leering at her reflection when her eyes caught Maggie entering the room with a charming dress and a pleasant smile on her face. Y/n turned to her and slowly reached for her purse that was on the nightstand.

"Y'all ready?" Maggie queried.

"Almost." Rosita responded back with an enthusiastic undertone. It was true they went through hell to get where they are at this moment. They all knew that. They were all suffering in agony. These thoughts kept pondering Y/n's head when she heard the door being shut loudly from downstairs.

"Daryl's home." Maggie uttered while cautiously leering at Y/n. Nobody exactly knew what went down between them but it was clear as day that something did. They were distant from eachother, barely even talking. Everyone knew they weren't romantic in any sense but some kind of relationship beyond just friends or teammates formed itself between them back in the prison. They were top secret. Even the ones that know what they once were, couldn't dare to talk about it; like Maggie.

"He is not coming to the party?" Rosita mumbled under her breath to kill the peculiar silence.

"I don't think so." Maggie huffed after taking a deep breath, her eyes still roaming Y/n's movements. She took a deep breath again

"You should come downstairs if you're all done. We will be goin' in 10-15 minutes." She spoke after she checked y/n for the last time.

She left the room. Rosita looked over at y/n for a brief moment. She barely knew anyone but she could sense there was something wrong, though, she remained silent.

"Uhh, I need to go to bathroom for something. I'll meet you downstairs." She said in a hurry as she grabbed her purse and made her way to the bathroom.

Y/n sighed audibly. She felt as if her track of thought was transparent and they could sense everything. She didn't know if Daryl was still downstairs and hoped that he wouldn't be. She gazed at her reflection for a brief moment and left the room.

••••••

Y/n saw Daryl as she stepped in downstairs. He was in the kitchen, a beer bottle on the kitchen counter. His hair was messy and greasy. His hands were on the kitchen counter. He was looking at the door, his back facing Y/n. He turned his head lightly as soon as he felt someone's presence. Y/n couldn't help but leer at his eyes exactly like he did. He may have checked Y/n from head to toe for a second or so, not showing any kind of affection nor admiration in his eyes or his body language. He made his way to the couch, put the beer bottle on the coffee table and started cleaning his filthy arrows with the cloth that was always in his jean pockets.

Y/n was almost feeling embarrased being infront of him like this. A sexy mini black dress, her hair and make-up done. She was incompetently trying to cover her legs with the purse. She was normally wearing even shorter shorts due to humid and the heat of the south and it wasn't like Daryl hadn't already seen every inch of her body but this, for some reason, felt different. A part of her sinked in sorrow because Y/n knew she couldn't have an intimate night tonight like many other nights with Daryl. "He is acting foolish." She got hot inside of her head. When was she ever gonna wear a dress like this and look like this again? And yet, there he was, missing such a fancy oppurtinity that he could've participated with her, show up with her. Hell, maybe that would keep jerks like Spencer away. It was play pretend. She knew that. The people that took them knew that, however shamming the old world wasn't immoral. Y/n didn't mind the elegance of the event, she cared for Daryl beyond that even if she didn't want to admit it but there was no harm for these type of things here and there. She was almost arguing with herself inside of her head. Y/n could feel herself getting sweaty already in that 6 inch dress. Thankfully, her saviors have been Glenn and Rick that ringed the door bell. She almost ran to the door, Daryl followed her with his eyes but turned back to working on his crossbow right after. Rosita and Maggie came downstairs as Y/n welcomed Rick and Glenn inside. They were gonna meet the others in the party. Glenn rushed over to Maggie, gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Rick couldn't help but look at the ladies with enchanted eyes

"You all look gorgeous tonight." He uttered confidently. There was no denying that he could be flirty.

He leered at Daryl and his smile faded away quickly.

"Your not comin' to the party?" he huffed. One could tell he already knew the answer by his tone. Everyone, including Y/n turned to Daryl. He shrugged his shoulders" 'M fine." He said then took a sip of his beer "Might stop ba later." he grunted.

"You better." Rick spoke in a daring tone as he frowned lightly. Daryl made a "Mhmm." sound and looked at his beer bottle for a moment and went back to continue the tense eye contact they had already formed. Daryl didn't seem bothered at all, not breaking the eye contact with Rick.

Daryl's eyes locked on Y/n's for a brief second before he got up, grabbed his beer and crossbow and went upstairs.

"And I thought I did a good speech about first impressions." Rick huffed under his breath, not hiding his frustration even a little.

Glenn looked at him with a knowing look as they lead the ladies to the door.

•••••••••

At the party, Y/n started helping with the beverages. She gave a proud look to Rosita as she came closer to her.

"Reminds me of old days you know." Y/n spoke as she watched Rosita coming closer.

"What do you mean?" Rosita asked.

Y/n was tipsy. She lightly hit her forehead with her fingers

"You don't know right? I was a barmaiden before all this." Y/n shouted as it could be hard for Rosita to hear her because of loud music. She never loved the job but anyone would miss anything from the past nowadays.

"That's good." Rosita expressed, with a fond smile on her face. She was only growing to love y/n's energy more.

Y/n didn't have to prepare beverages, she wasn't asked to. She only did it because it was taking her off of Daryl. Rosita sat one of the stools infront of her. She was watching people have fun when she saw Spencer approach them from the corner of her eyes.

Spencer approached y/n with a ludicrous smile bearing his face. Y/n instantly stopped what she was doing and looked at him with seductive eyes. She got drunk enough to not care about anything, anyone and after all her thing with Daryl have only been about sexual intercourse, nothing more. For the moment, that felt like a done deal too. No could blame her for wanting look for more. Rosita kept watching them for a minute or so when she decided to leave those two alone.

It was evident that Spencer was a bit intoxicated too if not as much as Y/n. He offered her hand to y/n for her to get out of the bar, she gently accepted his hand. Spencer placed his hands on y/n's waist as she looked at him with tempting eyes.

"You look gorgeous tonight." Spencer spoke. His voice was sloppy, even a little bit alcohol could make him talk funny. On the other hand, Y/n was too wasted to see that. She kept looking at his eyes with those seductive eyes of her. She didn't need to speak. Her eyes would do the job for her most of the time.

"You wanna dance?" Y/n whispered into Spencer's ear. She almost fell into his arms because she had to be on her tiptoes to reach him. He caught y/n and laughed it off.

"Yeah. S-sure." He said in a hectic tone. Spencer held y/n hand and led her to a corner. Y/n couldn't care less how far she'd go. She looked into Spencer's eyes with a fierce, alluring look before placing her hands on his chest. Spencer smirking lightly as he replaced his hands on her waist. They danced in that position for a moment, getting closer with each passing second and snuggling into one another. Their bodies were touching eachother passionately. They could feel eachother's breaths on their skin. Y/n wrapped her hands around Spencer more and went further with her sensual actions. Spencer could feel himself getting dizzy both because of alcohol and how far Y/n was going and grinding herself against him. He would whisper into her hear.

"You're so beautiful."

"Yeah just like that."

Y/n couldn't hear him, she was using him in a sense. She just went further and further with her suggestive moves that would drive any man out there crazy. They were lucky everybody was dancing, otherwise everyone would talk about them and give them disapproved looks. On the other hand, Spencer was fantasizing about taking Y/n to his place, spend a fabulous night. Y/n was wasted anyway, Spencer relieved himself. He wasn't gonna get ignored by her like always. Even at that point, he couldn't believe Y/n was all over him, grinding her ass against him so harshly yet so gently.

"Oh no." Maggie uttered silently as she pulled her arms that were grabbing Glenn on the shoulder softly. She scowled. Glenn took a deep breath, his annoyance growing thicker.

"For the millionth time Maggie, let Y/n have her fun. She is a grown woman." He sighed, obviously giving up. Glenn made out there was no way he could stop Maggie worrying about Y/n.

"No." Maggie said in concern. She softly pointed a spot behind Glenn with her head, her uneasy eyes widening a little bit more with each second. Glenn's eyes followed her gaze and he fixed his leer at Daryl and mildly huffed under his breath

"Fuck. He's been moody all week, right?"

"And he was drinking when we left." Maggie uttered.

They were both perturbed about what might happen.

"Look we step in if something happens, OK?" Glenn gently said to Maggie, trying his best to give her assurance.

"No need to get him all worked up." Glenn was trying to persuade Maggie to stay out of it unless a scene broke out at the party. Maggie nodded, slowly wrapping her hands around Glenn and smiling at once.

••••••••••

Daryl sat down on one of the stools that were lined up front of the bar, looking around to find a familiar face. He sighed at the failure of finding no one that he knew. This party wasn't for him. It reminded him the days where Merle and his friends would force him go downtown to hang out aimlessly in nightclubs, bars; hitting on every single girl that would catch their eyes regardless if they had someone with them. He hadn't really meet anyone yet. He was going on runs without any prearrangments and without letting anybody know, all alone. He asked for a scotch. His mind was busy. He thought guzzling one beer after another and working on his crossbow would engage his mind nevertheless, that failed.

He took a sip from his drink when he narrowed his eyes slightly at something. He thought he must've been hallucinating or mistake her for someone but it was clear as day. Y/n was dancing with Spencer and it was safe to say that it wasn't a cute, typical dance. They were all over eachother as if their bodies were glued. Y/n's hair was tangled and messy from the heat or who knows, from how long she had been dancing. She wasn't breaking the tense eye contact with Spencer. She was touching his face and giggling erotically at the same time. She would turn now and then and grind her entire body harshly against Spencer's for a brief moment in a seductive way. Her already-mini dress would fold everytime she did that. Spencer's hand would run through the front of her thighs. He would stroke Y/n's arms, hair, waist, anything. He would touch and caress every part of Y/n's body and Y/n didn't seem to mind.

Daryl's mind twitched at this scene. He didn't move. He wasn't fully drunk but his mind was growing more and more lethargic. He couldn't think clear. He felt a sense of jeaolusy, but did he have a right to feel that way? He had been avoiding her for weeks and so had she. Did he lose her completely? Did he ever have her entirely to himself? Was she trying to take revenge? Did it look like revenge or was she actually enjoying this? Didn't Y/n once say she liked the attention she was receiving from men when she was working as a barmaiden? Didn't she like to play with them like toys only for them to tip her more?

A heavy feeling of insecurity washed all over Daryl. It was crystal clear that Y/n was bewitching, almost way too bewitching. It wasn't like he never appreciated her beauty. The days he would wake up next to her and watch her chest going up and down lighly and admiring her beauty were countless. Maybe he should've made it more plain. He couldn't. A lump in his throat formed itself when he would think of the wall between them that he created. He couldn't be more. He didn't even know if he wanted to. He never had to worry about someone else back in the prison. There was only them and no one else. Spencer have been boldly flirting with Y/n ever since they got here. Daryl never could've foreseen that it would end like this. Y/n never responded back to Spencer after all.

Daryl's knuckles were turning whiter around his drink everytime he would fix his eyes on them. The sensation of jeaolusy and insecurity were no longer there. He was furious, bitter. All he wanted to do was to punch Spencer in the face. His glare growing more stern with each second, yet he couldn't get himself to get up and go over there. He was breathing fire. He examined Y/n's face, movements. He wanted to despise her but he horribly failed. He could just sit there and torture himself with this view, perhaps he deserved it. He notioned he deserved to torment himself with any way he could. Though he never would've want the torturer to be someone he deeply cared about in deep down. His eyes were hurting.

"Wanna go to my place?" Spencer whispered into Y/n's ear. "This place is getting boring." He added. Y/n gazed at him with puppy eyes before responding "Sure." She was wasted. She could barely even walk. Spencer smirked at her. It was not a pure smirk.

Daryl's eyes darted away to other people in the party for a second and went back to staring Spencer. He has acknowledged Spencer's intentions. He left his drink on the long thin table, he got up and slowly started walking towards them. He couldn't understand why Y/n hadn't see him until then. He knew what he had to do. He was gonna convince Y/n to come with him one way or another.

He got closer to them, he firmly grabbed Y/n by the hand and drew her to himself. She almost fell over him. "Daryl." she said in a tone above whisper. He stared into Spencer eyes in a stern manner and turned back to y/n

"Yer comin' with me." He stated. Y/n pulled her hand to herself and howled

"The hell I'm not." She was drunk yet strong.

"He was 'bout to leave with me man." Spencer spoke in a haggard tone. His tone indicated that he was irascible. Spencer's hand took place between Daryl and Y/n implying that Daryl couldn't touch her.

"She 's drunk, don' ya see that " Daryl grunted. He kept looking at Spencer, waiting for a respond.

"She can rest at my place." He grinned ludicrously.

Daryl could feel his blood boiling. He felt as if this Spencer guy was only trying to get under his skin. "And yer gon' let her sleep just like tha' " He huffed in a sarcastic fashion. He couldn't even believe he was still speaking with him. He looked over Y/n.

"Come on y/n. wer leavin' "

Y/n was sleepy. She clattered a "Mmm" sound as she let herself lean onto Daryl. She couldn't even focus on one thing anymore. Daryl held her by the waist and started making his way to the entrance when Spencer cut him.

"And your gonna let that mess sleep, huh?"

He pointed at Y/n by raising his eyebrows. That ludicrous smirk hadn't faded a bit. He was crossing the line. He was being stupid.

"Don't you think I haven't noticed the way you look at her."

Daryl kept looking at him without saying a word. He then spoke, gritting his teeth.

"Yea wanna do this here man?" He was giving Spencer one last chance so that he doesn't get beaten up. Spencer once again looked foolish, not understanding what he could've meant by that. Daryl was waiting for a response, he never got it but Spencer was not getting out of the way neither.

Y/n wasn't that sleepy at that point. She noticed Daryl's hands on her and freed herself from his grip and simply sat on one of the stools. She grabbed her hand to her head, whimpering in pain while she slowly massaged her temples.

Spencer looked at her with a knowing look. That was it. That was the last straw. Daryl looked over Y/n for a moment before jumping Spencer and punching him on the face with all his power. Spencer fell down and immediatly covered his face with his hand, his blood started oozing from his nose to the floor. He tumbled into some of the people there as he fell, which all screamed consecutively to the scene infront of their eyes. He had a huge ego built in himself that he didn't believe anyone would dare to touch Deanna's son, especially in a place like this; in an event like this. He leered at Daryl with confounded eyes.

Y/n turned to her back after hearing everyone scream. Her gaze shifted to Daryl after she saw Spencer lying on the floor with blood oozing everywhere. Y/n didn't say a word, neither did Daryl. However she had an uneasy look on her face. Daryl looked at her with stern eyes, not saying anything. He couldn't believe she was still where she was, not moving; not coming next to him. He was virtually disheartened.

"Fuck this." He grunted before looking at Spencer for the last time. He walked out from the scene. Y/n's eyes followed his every move when Rick arrived

"What happened?" He asked with curious eyes.

Y/n got up from the stool and sighed

"Daryl happened." She took one last glare to Spencer who was looking at y/n aswell. Y/n couldn't make out what his gaze meant. He wasn't angry, disappointed nor shocked.

Rick tried to grab her by the arm however she left the area somehow.

She scurried out. Her eyes scrutinizing the whole yard looking for Daryl. Y/n walked in a rush for a while when she saw him near the perimeter where people were taking patrols. He turned to her. He was enraged. Y/n had never seen him like this before. He was slightly trembling like he had just crashed into something. He tried to control his panting as he cried out

"If yer here to blame me, don't."

Y/n was taken aback by his cold manner. His "don't" sounded as if he was pleading. Yet she didn't step back. Maybe it was the intoxication, maybe it was the bottled up emotions she had been keeping inside of her for weeks but she didn't step back.

"Who else is there to blame besides you, Daryl" she uttered.

"You started off by ruining everyone's mood back at the house to punch Spencer on the face in the middle of a party." She shouted.

Some of the guards were staring down at them, looking fed up with the noisy party music, people throwing up here and there and now these two.

"A party that was thrown for us." Y/n added. She wasn't lightening the harsh, accusing tone in her voice even a little.

"I don' give a dam' 'bout the party." He uttered, swinging his arm at Y/n.

"You may not care," Y/n said, her voice started to tremble

"But the others do." She ended her sentence.

"It actually matters for some of us to survive in some place that's safe and liveable."

"Hell with all of 'em." He spoke.

There was a brief silence before he grunted

"Funny yea still think this 's all 'bout this damn place." His voice was slightly tall.

"Ya didn't see how he was droolin' all over ya." He looked at y/n. He was still, however his mood lied heavily on Y/n's words.

"Fuck you and Spencer. I was having fun." She emphasized on her words. Her frustration was growing bigger

"Ya callin' that fun? Grindin' yer body against some dude?"

"Yes, I call that fun Daryl. Have a problem with that?" She sighed at his sight.

Daryl stayed silent. He knew y/n was trying to get a reaction out of him. Both of them caught their breaths when Daryl spoke

"Yer so clueless, aren't ya?"

"Yer doin' it on purpose." He laughed it off while shaking his head. Y/n couldn't find something to say. She focused on her breathing, tried to calm herself down. Her heart was beating like it was trying to get out of her chest. She could hear her pulse's banging in her ears.

"He wouldva raped yea 'n yea wouldn't even know."

Y/n narrowed her eyes keenly at his statement.

"You ar- y-you." She was stuttering. She didn't know what to say. She just looked at Daryl. Her eyes got watery, she sobered up right there. Daryl fought back thinking she had something more to say in contrast.

"What? Yea thought he was fixin' to take yea in his place to feed yea a bowl of steamin' soup?" He grunted. He didn't care if he was being bitter. He didn't care if it would cause him to lose y/n entirely. He just knew he had to speak on what he saw tonight. Their eyes were still locked up on eachother when Daryl's eyes shifted something else behind Y/n. Y/n followed his gaze only to see Rick and Maggie coming towards them. The rest of their people were lined up infront of the door, watching them.

"Enough." Rick shouted as he got closer.

Both of their eyes were fixated on Rick.

FOOTNOTE

hey guys!! omg the duties i been ignoring to write these are crazy (no complains whatsoever im into this lol) i initially planned writing this even longer and a bit different (daryl practically dragging y/n to the house and y/n puking etc and it would end in a soft way?? like them cuddling and kissing etc and they would acknowledge eachothers povs etc but it would be a whole damn novel by itself and ive been impatient posting this so idk maybe a sequel??) also ive noticed its impossible to avoid daryl getting ooc now and then.. i yield... sometimes he is gonna feel ooc.. and there is nothing i can do��🥹

lemme know your thoughts!! love yall

[scrompsmilanodiaries]

Suit up !!

Hey y'all, sorry for the lack of Rocket stories here, time to make up for it. Word count:775

Peter has been waiting anxiously for a certain package to arrive, having ordered it months ago, it suffered backorder and multiple delays, but today was the day it's meant to arrive, But the postal service has been scut as of lately so he wasn't trying to hold his breath. "Come on... come on..."

"Yo Pete !! Something came for you" Rocket called out from the living area, carrying a large box and placing it up on the table.

"Yes !! Finally !!" Peter rushed down the stairs of the bowie to get to the package. "Just you wait, A whole lot of awesomeness is in here" He grabbed a box cutter and gently opened it.

He gathered everyone on the ship to the living area and showed it off, Their brand new official uniforms. Decked out with the logo on the chest and donning a blue and red colour scheme. "Ok so everyone pick yours and try 'em on. Drax don't worry I made sure to get the sensitive material."

"Much appreciated" He nodded

"Still can't believe you have sensitive nipples" You snickered as you took your uniform and ran off.

Rocket was the first out with his suit on, after a quick adjustment, he nodded as he looked around. "Hmm not bad" It even made sure their was room for his tail in the back.

You soon came out with your uniform on, It felt nice and comfy. Not too tight and not constraining.

"Looking good y/n" Rocket complimented, which was a rare thing.

"Thanks, you too" You nodded to him.

But the compliments went only so far, You've been struggling with self love all your life, always comparing yourself to other people around you, were you too fat ?? Too skinny ?? Too bulky ?? Not bulky enough ?? But this suit just made it a little worse, were the compliments they were giving just out of pity ?? Were you fit to be a guardian ??

The others didn't quite pick up on the fact that you weren't doing so good, But later that day when Rocket was moving onto another task on the ship, He happened to catch a glimpse of you looking into the mirror and not in a confident kind of way.

He perked a brow and cleared his throat to get your attention. "You uh... You doing ok ??"

You looked behind and saw him. "Hmm... oh... I'm ok" You nodded, trying to reassure him.

But Rocket saw right through you, He was your best friend, he knew when something was never right. "Nah, You ain't ok. I know that tone" He crossed his arms.

"Shit..." You rubbed your face before looking at the mirror again.

"Come on, spit it out" He walked closer before jumping on a nearby shelf to match your height..

"Do.... Do I look like a guardian ??" You said without breaking eye contact from the mirror.

"Do you look like a- Pal... You look like a guardian an' a damn good one at that, Whatcha mean "Do I look like one" ?? You don't think so ??" Rocket couldn't help but droop his ears slightly, he too had many years of body dysmorphia and it panged him to see someone he cares for deeply feel the same.

"I... Your just saying that" You gripped the sleeve tightly.

"Nah, I don't do that crud and you know me better than that, I speak my mind"

So rocket decided to try and help you in one way, he then shifted you around, making you turned to the front of the mirror, fixing up your back so you could puff out your chest.

"I want you to do this... Say I'm a freakin Guardian of the galaxy" He encouraged.

You grew a little shy before mumbling... "I'm a freaking..."

"No no, a little louder, Come on. "I'm a freakin Guardian of the galaxy !!"

You nodded, speaking up a bit more. "I'm a freaking guardian of the galaxy"

"Louder !!"

"I'M A FREAKING GUARDIAN OF THE GALAXY !!" You shouted at the top of your lungs, it felt... Liberating, suddenly those insecurities were just sort of washing away bit by bit. How that trick worked was beyond you but he was right.

"I'm a guardian of the galaxy" You looked at yourself in the mirror, now fully confident in your suit.

"That's what I like to see, So don't go moping next time I see ya" He chuckled and playfully punched your shoulder.

"Yeah yeah" You got him back by ruffling his head.

"Hey watch the fur !!"

You were a freaking Guardian of the galaxy

Taglist: @callofdudes @rogertaylorswift @mybelovedraccoon

[andreafmn]

12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 3

Word Count: 4.0K Paring:  Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader Prompt @12-days-of-ficmas: anonymous donor pays for the kids at your nonprofit to have a perfect Christmas. Wait, this handwriting looks familiar Warnings: mature language

Summary: For a little over half a decade, (Y/N) has run the Angel's Touch Foundation caring for children in need from all over Small Heath. But times are hard and money is tight, and all she wants is to give the children of her foundation the best Christmas. And an anonymous letter might just have all the answers she has been searching for.

A/N: goodness, I love angst a little too much. I think y'all might need to prepare for a christmas filled with just a tad of sad 🫣🫣

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Life in Small Heath had never been easy. Life in England had not been easy in general. At least not for the everyday man, much less for their children. 

(Y/N) had dedicated her life to making sure no child went hungry in her town. With what little money her family had left her, she had started a foundation in their name to do just that. For a little over half a decade, the woman had seen to it that no child went hungry or homeless, especially during the holidays.

It had been hard to keep Angel’s Touch afloat for years. Keeping the foundation running smoothly required more money than was flowing in most of the time, but she somehow always pulled it off. She didn’t care if she went hungry herself for a couple of days or if she lived in the smallest apartment she could afford. All she wanted was to make sure no child went through the hardships that had been bestowed upon them with no fault to them. As hard as it was. She pulled through every year, and she would continue to do so for as long as she could. 

That particular year had been particularly difficult, with their government funding being cut in almost half, a slow influx of donations, and the amounts of intakes growing (Y/N) didn’t know how they had even made it to December without more struggles. 

“I don’t know how we’re gonna give the kids a good Christmas celebration this year, Margaret,” she sighed as she sat on her desk chair. “We’re barely making it as it is, and I don’t even know where we’ll get the necessary funding for next year.” 

“Well, we could always ask…” 

“So help me, Margaret, if you say what I think you’re gonna say, I’ll fire you right now,” (Y/N) warned. “I don’t care that you’re my closest friend and one of the only reasons I’m still standing.” 

“I’m just saying, love. He could help,” Margaret shrugged as she placed a cup of tea before the woman. “But I understand why you don’t want to call him. We could try the church again. Grovel to the Father for some more donations. At least enough to give the kids a Christmas dinner.”

“Yeah,” she responded, ignoring the fact that her friend had tried to bring up the one man she had wanted nothing more than to forget. “I’ll try to call some family friends or try to kiss up to politicians and remind them or their re-elections. Maybe see if my brother has any money to spare. I just need to find someone with big and loose pockets for this month. Then, we can worry about next year.” 

“You’ll find a way,” Margaret said with a comforting smile. “Somehow, you always do.” 

“Just one year,” she begged. “All I want is for one year to go smoothly.” 

“Oh, darling, we didn’t get into this business because it was easy,” the woman reminded her. “We do it so the children don’t suffer under someone else.” 

“Right,” (Y/N) smiled. “For the children.” 

“We’ll make it through, darling. Don’t worry your pretty little face.” 

It was easier said than done, that much (Y/N) knew. She made more phone calls than she had ever done in her lifetime, trying her best to reach everyone and anyone who would listen. As Christmas day approached, she felt her time running short. Money poured in slowly, and it was spent twice as fast. At the rate they were going, it would have surprised her if all they could give the kids was a hot mutton stew. 

But what (Y/N) didn’t know was that a higher power was in play. Something and someone she had no control over. 

A week before Christmas, after receiving another shipment of donations of basic necessities, two of the children she housed ran after her down the halls. “Ms. (Y/N)!” they yelled as they ran. “Ms. (Y/N)!” 

“Woah, Helen, William, slow down,” she chuckled softly. “You know there’s no running in the halls.” 

“We’re sorry, Ms. (Y/N),” Helen smiled angelically. “But there was a postie outside. Left a package for you.” 

“Yeah, he said it was urgent.” 

The boy extended a pristine envelope sealed with the crest of England. “Alright, thank you, kids,” she smiled “Now, go on, darlings. Go get some lunch.”

Once the children were out of sight, (Y/N) hurried to her office. The envelope didn’t say who it was from, but her name was written on it in the most beautiful calligraphy she had ever seen. Inside the room, she put aside the box she was carrying and sat quickly by her desk to see what inside the letter was so urgent. 

“Slow down, woman,” Margaret chuckled as the woman pushed her aside. “What do you have there?” 

“I don’t know,” she said. “Helen and William gave it to me. Said a letter man had dropped it off, and it was urgent.”

“Looks quite official, doesn’t it? Does it say who it's from?”

“No. It only has my name.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Margaret smiled. “Open it already.”

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled as she pulled out her letter opener. The wax came off the paper easily and, inside, (Y/N) found two pieces of paper. But it was the one in front that caught her attention. “Oh, fuck.” 

“(Y/N), such foul language,” Margaret laughed. “What is it?” 

“Someone has donated sixty thousand pounds to the foundation,” she choked out. “Do you know what this means, Margaret?” 

“Oh, fuck.” 

“My sentiments exactly,” she laughed. “We are more than set for Christmas, Margaret. And not just the holidays. We’re set for next year!” 

“Happy fucking Christmas,” the woman exclaimed. “Does it say who it’s from? We need to do something to honor whoever it was that decided to answer our prayers.” 

“Uh,” she stammered as she looked for a name. “It doesn’t say.” 

“Anonymous donor? I mean, people do get rather generous during the holidays.” 

“Yeah, I just wish we could thank whoever it was,” (Y/N) said. “But, we have enough planning to do now. Christmas is in a week!” 

“Don’t you worry, darling,” Margaret smiled. “Everything will be perfect.”

As her friend set off to work, making phone calls and ensuring deliveries, (Y/N) looked over the second paper in the envelope. There wasn’t a name there either, but she recognized the lettering far too perfectly. In a handwriting that she wished she had forgotten the words: Happy Christmas to you and the children. 

At that moment, she wanted to break down. It had been years since she had spoken to him, much less heard a word from him. Yet, somehow, when she needed him most, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. In a simple cheque, he had been able to resolve her biggest worry. All it took was the stroke of a pen, and all her problems had disappeared. It was just so easy for him. 

But she couldn’t come undone. Not when there was so much to be done.

In the blink of an eye, seven days had passed, and the Angel’s Touch Foundation was preparing for a feast. Every single one of the kids had received their fair share of toys, clothes, and anything else they might have wanted. It was truly something out of a fairytale. 

Their entire home had been decorated from top to bottom for the holidays. It made the children very excited to see the place filled with Christmas lights and decorations, and many a kid stopped to gawk at the massive tree that had been propped up at the foundation’s lobby. Everything was beautiful and perfect. 

(Y/N)’s mind should have been focused on the kids and their happy faces. She should have been zoned into their reactions when they got to open presents that morning or their surprise when they were told what they’d be having for dinner. That’s what should have been running through her head. 

Yet, since she had received that letter, only one thing lived in her mind. His name and his face swirled around in her brain like it was the only thought that mattered. It consumed her every waking moment and filled her dreams with images of him. She had done so well to avoid him for years, and with just a few words, he was all she could think about. 

After dinner, while the kids all played and laughed a floor below, she found herself inspecting the piece of paper that had started her spiral. Maybe the longer she looked at it, something would happen. Maybe it would make him walk through the doors…

“Darling, you can’t spend the rest of the night locked up in here,” Margaret said as she walked in with two glasses of whiskey. “We’re supposed to be celebrating.” 

“I am,” she smiled softly. “I just… it’s this letter. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“There’s no point to dwell on it, dear. There’s no name.” 

“I know who sent it.”

“What?” Margaret gasped. “So, there was a name?” 

“No,” (Y/N) chuckled dryly. “I recognized the handwriting. Instantly, actually. And I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.” 

“It was him, wasn’t it?” the woman inquired. “It was Thomas.” 

“It was,” she sighed. “I just don't understand how he could have known. I haven’t seen him in years, and then he shows up out of the blue with this letter.” 

“Darling, Small Heath is big but not big enough,” her friend mused. “Why don’t you go see him? It’s been long enough, don’t you think?” 

“And say what, Margaret? That I ran away from our home, and he’s somehow still saving me? I… I can’t go see him.” 

“But you want to,” she said. “And you know where he lives. Everyone does. So, just go to him.” 

“He’ll turn me away.” 

“It’s Christmas,” Margaret smiled. “He won’t turn you away on Christmas. Now, there’s a car waiting for you downstairs. So, go, love. Stop waiting around.” 

(Y/N) didn’t know what had possessed her, but her legs moved faster than her brain could think. And before she knew it, she was in the black car headed toward Arrow House. She could have told the driver to turn back around at any second, proclaimed she had lost her mind, and the best thing she could do was sleep off the madness. But the car kept moving, and the distance became bigger. Then, the grandiose house was looking down on her, beaconing her closer and closer. Once she was out of the car, her decision was made for her. The only way was onward. 

She knocked on the front doors, thinking there couldn’t possibly be anyone up at that hour. One second more, and she would have walked herself back home. Yet, the door opened wide, and an older woman opened the door. “Hello,” she smiled. “May I help you, dear?” 

“Oh, um, perhaps you could,” (Y/N) stammered. “I was looking for Mr. Shelby.” 

“Of course,” the woman said. “Come in. He’s just in his study.” 

“This late into the night?” she questioned as she followed the woman inside. “I thought perhaps he would have already gone to bed.” 

“Mr. Shelby keeps odd hours,” she explained. “But I think you knew that if you yourself are coming at this hour.” 

“Right,” (Y/N) chuckled. “I guess if he had been asleep, I could have used that as an excuse to leave.” 

“He was expecting you earlier in the week, Ms. (Y/L/N). But I guess you were quite busy with Angel’s Touch.” 

The woman’s words stopped her in her tracks. “You know who I am?” she asked. “And you knew I’d be coming?” 

“Of course, I know who you are. It’s my job to know,” she smiled. “Well, we’re here.” She knocked on the door before them and opened it ever so softly. “Mr. Shelby?” 

“Yes, Frances?” 

“Ms. (Y/L/N) has arrived.” Frances beckoned the woman inside, and she did as told. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” 

(Y/N) heard his voice before she saw him, and she felt shivers running down her body. His head snapped toward her the second he heard her name, and the cigarette he had just lit threatened to fall out of his mouth as he stared. 

They stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity, wondering if the image before them was a hallucination like the ones they’d had before. Maybe they were scared. Maune they thought the second one of them moved, the other would disappear.

“(Y/N).” Tommy was the first to speak. But his voice was so low it was almost as though he hadn’t, almost like he had said it as a prayer. “You’re here.”  

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart fluttering against her chest and threatening to jump outside of her body. “I came to thank you for your very generous donation.”

“Ah, so Angel’s Touch is yours,” he said nonchalantly as his demeanor changed to the mask he always wore. “I was simply trying to do a good deed this Christmas. The name of the foundation sounded familiar, but I had no way of knowing you were the one running it.” 

“You don’t have to pretend, Tommy. You already knew it was,” (Y/N) commented as she took a tentative step toward him. “Why now? After all these years, why have you reached out now?” 

“I have no need to pretend,” he announced as he filled a glass with whiskey. “I was truly just doing a good thing.”

“Right,” she conceded. “Well, I’ll simply thank you then. And since you did not leave a return address I had to come personally to give my gratitude. Your donation has changed the lives of many children.”

“Good. That’s what I wanted.”

“Alright then. I guess I’ll see myself out. Since you were only doing a generous thing.” (Y/N) turned, fully determined to walk out the doors and leave him with the same indifference with which he was treating her. But she couldn’t walk away. Not again. “Oh, cut the fucking bullshit, Tommy, and give me a real answer. Why now? I can only assume you’ve always known where I was. So, why did you reach out now?”

Tommy’s eyes found hers, and she swore she could have died at that very moment. She was sure in the infinite blue of his eyes, she could see the love he used to have for her, the love that had died after he had come home from the war. “I reached out because I heard you were in need of donations. Truly,” he explained. “I was going to hand deliver the cheque myself. Even went by the building.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“But I saw you, (Y/N). And I realized there was still so much anger and resentment buried that I decided to send it through the post. Because regardless of how I feel, those children deserve a better life than they were given,” he said defeatedly. His shoulders had fallen and she was starting to see the broken man behind the mask. “Yet, I still wrote that note, and I knew it would bring you around sooner or later.”

“For what, Tommy? Why did you want me to come here?” 

“Because I need a fucking explanation!” the man exclaimed, slamming his hands on his desk. “You fucking disappeared as soon as I came home from the war. In the middle of the night. You took your things, and you fucking left. Like I meant nothing to you. And you have the gall to stay in Small Heath. Hidden, but still there. Why, (Y/N)? ‘Cause it wasn’t just me you left. You left the entire family.”

“You’re joking, right? You truly have no idea why I left?” As she was met with silence, (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh. She crossed the room as she did, staring out the window because it was easier than looking him in the face. “You were a completely different man when you came home. At first, I told myself it was normal. That the things you had seen in the battlefield would have haunted you ‘til the day you died. But then, there were things that could not be attributed to the war. 

I know you used the opium to help with your Shell Shock, and I tried. I tried to be okay with it because I truly believed you needed it, Tommy. But you’d be worse after. The nightmares still overtook you and your behavior… well, long gone was the man that used to make me laugh,” she sighed, wrapping her arms across her chest. “And, up to that point, I would have put up with it all because I loved you more than I loved myself. But then, you brought women into our bed. Maybe you thought I hadn’t noticed, or you believed I would keep my mouth shut and let you do as you pleased. Maybe I did wrong by you for allowing things to get to that. Still, I had not expected you to ever raise your hand at me, Tommy.”

“(Y/N),” she heard him call. 

“I can understand that you were drunk. Pissed out of your mind with the whiskey and the drugs. But I had told you how my father had treated my mother, and you had promised that you would never stoop that low.” She could feel the tears start to form in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall down her cheeks in ugly black streaks. “That was the night I decided I would leave because I could not live in a house with a man I was afraid of. I told Polly what my plans were, and she helped me. She gave me enough money to go back to my brother’s, and she promised to keep my secret. I don’t want to think of what would have happened if I had stayed.”

“You know I would have never hurt you, (Y/N).” She could tell his voice was closer but cautious. It was the first time they had spoken, the first time they had gotten answers, and he was not about to lose his chance to understand it all. “I must admit, the man that came back from the war was not the man that left for it. I don’t think such a man even exists. But I would have never hurt you.” 

“How can you be so sure, Tommy? You swore that you would have never raised your hand at me, and you did. How far could a strike be? Or perhaps a push or a shove? That’s how it starts,” she shrugged sadly. “If I had stayed… I couldn’t have stayed. It would have ruined us both. I mean, look how well you’ve done for yourself. This house, your business, I’d say everything worked out well for you.”

“It didn’t,” he sighed, stepping even closer. She could feel his presence behind her, looming over her. She could feel the warmth from his body even as the cold from the winter seeped in through the window. “There’s always been something missing.” 

“I heard you got married,” she said. “Even got a little boy. I’d say that’s more than enough.” 

“My wife is dead. And though, yes, I still have my child, you know what I’ve been missing.” 

“You loved her,” she continued. “If love was what you were missing, you had it.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it, (Y/N).” 

“You gave your heart to another. That’s what I know.” 

“How could I ever give something that wasn’t there anymore? Something that was taken many years before.” Tommy’s chest was pressed against her back, rising and falling at a dangerous pace. His hands ran up her arms, his touch so soft she thought it was a ghost. But he was there. She could feel his breathing on her neck, feel his heartbeat through his chest. Tommy was there, and she could not deny it. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). The last thing I ever wanted was to lose you.” 

“I didn’t want to go, Tommy. You have to believe that,” she sighed as she leaned into his touch. “I didn’t want to, but I had to.” 

“I know, but you’re here now. You’ve come back to me,” he whispered in her ear. “Please tell me you’ve come back to me.” 

“I can’t go through that again, Tommy. The children at the foundation depend on me, the workers… I cannot go back to the woman I was. I lost myself in you, Thomas Shelby. And if I did that again, I don’t know how I could survive.” 

Tommy kissed her neck unexpectedly, savoring her skin as he had done many years before. He breathed her in and sank into the familiarity of her body. He remembered her softness and her warmth, he remembered every curve of her body and the way it would react. He remembered how it had felt to have her belong to him. 

But (Y/N) also remembered how lost she had been without him at the start. Being with him meant losing a part of herself. It meant she would no longer be (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She would be Tommy Shelby’s girl. And she didn’t know if she could go back to that. Not when she had done so much to be the woman she was. 

Yet, the feeling of his lips on her reminded her of the moments they had been happy. They had been young and in love, and even if they had less, they felt the richest they could have been. His hands reminded her of a time when she had not been afraid of him, when his touch was a welcomed solace and not a dark premonition. It all reminded her of the life they believed they could’ve had. 

“Tommy,” she whispered as his kisses became feverish. “Tommy, wait.” 

“What?” he groaned. “We’ve waited long enough.” 

“If we were to do this, if we were to be in each other’s lives, we need to take things slow,” she said. “I cannot jump into these waters headfirst. I need time.” 

“Time,” he chuckled softly. “Time is something we’ve had so much of.” 

“And I need more of, Tommy. Please.” 

“Alright,” Tommy conceded. And though he wanted to be more annoyed, all he could feel was compassion. “At least stay the night. It’s late, and it’s Christmas. You shouldn’t be out on the road.”

“If this is another ploy to get me into your bed, Mr. Shelby,” she chuckled, turning to look him in the eyes finally. Those icy blue eyes that had always haunted her. 

“It’s not,” he smiled. “I can have an entire room set up for you if that’s what you’d prefer.” 

“It takes trust, doesn’t it? And it’s already a cold night, I wouldn’t want to freeze until morning.”

With a warm smile on his face, one he hadn’t remembered he could muster, he took (Y/N) in his arms. “Happy Christmas, (Y/N),” he said. “I do hope it was a good one.” 

“Well, I certainly haven’t had better in a while,” she chuckled. “But I know it’s the best one Angel’s Touch has seen.” 

“The best one yet.” 

“Right,” (Y/N) said. “I guess all we needed was a true angel’s touch.” 

“I’m no angel, darling. I’m more of a god.” 

“I can see the sense of grandeur hasn’t died down,” she chuckled as she leaned into his touch. They walked through the quiet house in each other’s arms, forgetting the past years, forgetting their absence in each other’s lives. They were simply present at that moment, and that moment only. “But I don’t think there’s anything I could do to thank you for what you’ve done.” 

“Well, there are a few things I have in mind.” 

“Very cheeky, Mr. Shelby,” she grinned. “But that’s not happening any time soon.” 

“A man can only hope,” he laughed. “But I’ll take what I can get. As long as you promise you’ll still be here in the morning.” 

“I promise, Tommy. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Next ->

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[mikachacha]

𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛) 𝙿𝚝. 8

Synopsis: an audio of your argument with Bada was leaked out, Bada is receiving bad press and affecting team Bebe's overall performance and you decided to step in.

Warnings: this is just an emotional piece. some cursing but i swear this is gonna be a happy ending.

(A/N: We're on the last part of this series. Thank you everyone for supporting this story from the start until now. Love y'all and again, thank you so much for the support.)

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

It's been days since that emotional encounter with Bada and the audio of your conversation with her somehow got leaked to the internet. Many people had criticized Bada, even throwing hate at the team members as well but then there were people criticizing you as well. Mean comments have flocked your social media that some of your friends have stepped in to defend you but you know what could get you and team Bebe out of this situation. As much as you would like to just let Bada get dragged through the mud from all this, it didn't sit well with you that her team is getting bullied by people who don't know what happened just because they're on the same time. It wasn't fair. It's yours and Bada's problem, not theirs. They were out of it.

"Yeni, I'm planning something. For my own peace and for team Bebe to not get involved in mine and Bada's mess.. It's unfair, they're suffering because we were stupid back then. It doesn't sit right with me." you told Yeni. You're not her girlfriend yet but you wanted to be transparent with everything. You don't want to blind side her about your plans especially when it involves Bada.

"Do what you have to do, alright? I'm just gonna be here for you. Do what you think is right." Yeni says and gave you a hug to comfort you. You sighed and hugged her back before giving Bada a call and telling her about your plan. She was a bit hesitant at first but her team's reputation is at stake her. She could lose everything but her team, her friends doesn't deserve that. If someone has to suffer, it should be her.

You met Bada at her apartment. It was the very same apartment that you used to live in with her. You sat on the couch and set up your camera as you waited for Bada to settle down. You wanted to do a live on insta so both of you can come clean regarding about your past. To put an end to the unnecessary rumors and criticism especially towards Bada's team because they're really just casualties from your mess.

"So uhm hello everyone. It's me, Y/N and Bada's here with me. We wanted to address the audio that's now circulating the internet that caused quite a stir among fans and haters alike.." you started and you glanced at Bada who looks like she in the verge of crying.

"Yeah.. To be clear, what happened between me and Y/N is from three years ago. I met her while I was in the states. We became friends as we met on a dance studio and because we were both koreans, we bonded. We've known each other for more than a year before I asked her to be my girlfriend when she graduated from uni. The problems started when I came back here, with her in tow." Bada narrates and you held back a sniffle as you remembered all too well what happened after that. You held her hand in a comforting way as she excused herself for a bit since she couldn't prevent her tears from falling.

"So uhh.. I told her that we needed to pretend that we're just friends because my parents didn't knew at that time that I'm lesbian. I didn't know how to come out to them at that time so I forced my girlfriend to lie to save my own ass. It just kept getting worse, I was abusive. I was toxic. God knows how much I regretted those times of my life, those times in our relationship. I didn't treat her well. I took her for granted, took her love for granted. Whenever she would try to leave, I'd come up with ways to make her come back to me. I wanted her to stay with me but I really didn't make much efforts to make her stay. All I did was continue destroying our relationship, hurt her and make her suffer." Bada confessed and looked at you, her eyes reflected guilt and sadness.

"I know, I had a lot of chance to leave her and to never look back but I couldn't bring myself to do it because I was so in love with her. I thought things would change, things would get better between us if I stayed but sadly, it didn't. So I finally left. It wasn't easy, there were times that I thought about going back and beg her to take me back. I was angry with myself, angry at her and angry at everything because of what happened. But now, as we sat together inside the apartment we once called home together, there were some things that I realized. That I've been angry for too long, that even if I said that I've forgiven her and forgiven myself from that incident, I still haven't. That's why that audio came to be. But believe me, the rest of team Bebe is out of this. They didn't know anything so please, we are begging you to stop harassing them and calling them enabler because they aren't. Please leave them out of this.." you begged and soon, you ended the live feed. You turned to Bada and she pulled you in for a hug. Both of you just stayed like that for quite some time before you pulled away.

You cupped her cheeks and wiped her tears away, you gave her a smile as you rested your forehead against hers. This'll be the last time you're gonna be like this with Bada. You wanted to be finally be able to step forward, have a new beginning with Yeni.

"We may have failed in this lifetime but if given the chance to meet you in the next one, I wouldn't think twice about loving you again. But right now, we both need to move on and let go. For both our sakes.. I love you but it's time that we really finish this. Goodbye, Bada.. It may not have been great but I genuinely loved you." you told her and she hugged you tight, just sobbing in your arms. When she calmed down a bit, she gave you a kiss on the forehead and tried her best to give you a smile.

"If given a chance that I meet you again in my next life, I would treat you better and love you right. It may not have been perfect but I loved you, Y/N. Thank you for loving me so unconditionally despite everything I did to you. Thank you for making me feel the realest love I've ever known." she says and you nodded. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze as you willed yourself to not cry anymore.

"I forgive you, Bada. I forgive you and myself for everything that happened. I hope that we both find peace and happiness even if it's not with each other." was your words before you finally left that apartment. It was bittersweet yet you know it was for the best.

After that live video, things went a bit better for team Bebe and people soon forgot about the issue. You continued to work as Jam Republic's translator and you started dating Yeni as you finally felt like you're ready for this fresh start and it was the best decision you've made. She treated you like the most important person in the world and made sure to give you everything you never experienced with Bada.

Meanwhile, Bada sold the apartment you once shared with her as she also wanted to move on. To let go of the guilt and the memories of you and her. She heard you were dating Yeni and she felt a pang of hurt at the news but she really hopes that Yeni won't make the same mistakes as she did. That hopefully you finally found your happiness in Yeni's love because you deserve all the good things in life.

———;

@lil-elliesgf @efyyylee @hwm1hyun @mikaleialt @bunnywonyo @badaswifey @mrs-grim-reaper @b1ackbunny @wifey-badalee

[wondercourse]

Not that my "syscourse is a flat circle" theory was ever incorrect. It's completely cyclical and is constantly the same shit in different flavors as new people rehash arguments that everyone else thought were already over.

But also the fact that we've circled back to "Was This Type Of Trauma Enough"course in particular is really fucking annoying. "Well actually emotional neglect alone can't cause enough trauma for DID" "Well actually bullying alone can't cause enough trauma for DID" shut the fuck up?? Shut the fuck up. Fuck's sake.

If you want researched facts that have been peer reviewed by people actually in the field and aren't based on a random Tumblr user's opinion, check SAS's recent posts on this because the folks there are way better at gathering research than I am. I'll just give a logical approach instead. Follow me here.

Not all trauma will cause (C-)PTSD. Yes, this even includes "real" trauma that "actual" survivors experience (i.e., sexual and physical abuse; air quotes because all trauma is real trauma and all survivors are actual survivors, don't even start with me because my patience is extremely thin right now). This is a pretty well-known fact. Already shows that the impact is relative. Shocker. Let's keep following the line, though.

By extension, not all "real" trauma that "actual" trauma survivors (again, air quotes because all trauma is real trauma and all survivors are actual survivors) experience will cause DID, yes, even if it's chronic. Still with me? Cool.

On the flip side, things that seem relatively minor can be extremely traumatic for someone and therefore cause (C-)PTSD. Emotional abuse, emotional neglect, physical neglect, bullying, medical trauma, etc. (even implying for the sake of argument that these are "lesser" kinds of trauma genuinely makes me ill, I hate y'all for this) can, as it turns out, fuck you up! Like, a lot worse than some of y'all think!!

So far, the pattern has been a metaphorical "circle-triangle-circle..." situation. So the logical next step is triangle. Wait. Except triangle says...

Therefore, "lesser" (EXTREMELY HEAVY AIR QUOTES) traumas can also cause DID! Wow!

Now, again, this is just me following a logic line and going "This is just what makes sense, and while this can be wrong and take a sharp left, that's not what the research says". Under most circumstances I'm down for being wrong, and hell, if the research somehow makes a drastic change while I'm still doing syscourse (which god. let me out), then I'll say "Yeah okay fair enough". But right now, the research aligns with this line of logic. So. Lol.

Like where is this mythical "Your trauma had to fall into the Bad Enough" box of specific trauma types. Show me. Point it out to me somewhere where it hasn't already been debunked. I will sit here and I will fucking wait, because my therapist never informed me of this and she's a hell of a lot more knowledgeable than most of you.

Piss off with your fakeclaiming bullshit. Let this die. It's giving "Actually PTSD can only be experienced by soldiers" which I thought we moved past by accepting that it can be induced in anyone. But I guess it's okay when you start treating trauma disorders like an exclusive fucking club that you can only get into if you suffered "enough". Fuck that.

Trauma is relative. How fucking hard is this concept? "Well, I suffered more than them so why do they have the same thing as me?" Because two people can experience the exact same thing and have two completely different results. This isn't even just like a PTSD thing this is literally what fucking LIFE is. Don't be a dick.

Finally, fellow systems who formed primarily or exclusively through any type apparently "lesser" chronically traumatic events—abuse or otherwise—take a break. Don't be like me tbh; don't even engage with this kind of "discourse". Work through your shit. Your trauma is not "less" because it wasn't primarily physical or sexual in nature because trauma is the IMPACT, not the EVENT. I see you.

[hughiecampbelle]

Dependence Pt. 2 (Roy!Sibling x Roy Family)

((SUCCESSION SPOILERS))

Character/s: Connor, Kendall, Shiv, Roman, Logan mention

Word Count: 1,478

Warning: addiction, drugs, alcohol, death mention

Tag: @locke-writes

A/N: I'm feeling angsty, and that means everyone has to suffer :) Y'all thought I could leave this as it was? Never!!! I live to write angst, lol. This is on a whole new level, though, so please, please, pleass be warned!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Dependence Pt. 1 / Dependence Pt. 3 / Dependence Pt. 4 / Dependence Pt. 5

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt One.

Being The Youngest Roy Would Include Pt. Two

The anger was back. Hot, red, like the blood running from your nose. Tasting of iron. Metallic. It was back and harder to control than ever. You were white-knuckling it for as long as you could remember. No one could understand how taxing it was, how much energy you were putting into keeping it together. Managing. It took everything inside you. Every bit of energy and attention and focus. Sooner or later, you’d lose your grip. You’d fall down again, scrape your knee, chip a tooth. You’d hit rock bottom. It was always waiting for you, the only inevitable in your life. The only constant. That, and your fathers hatred. He was gone now. He was gone and so was his meanness, but your anger lingered. It intensified. Towards him, that bastard, towards yourself, a pathetic little kid still seeking daddy's love. That man wasn’t capable of anything close. After the wedding, the boat, after seeing the body for yourself, you went home and you screamed. You tore your throat apart, to shreds, trying to tire yourself out. Trying to outsmart yourself. You were so close to going to a meeting, but you gave it a second thought. The cameras had followed you home, the paparazzi ripping your every action apart before his body was even cold. They would follow you. It would be the second biggest story in the papers besides his death. The cruelty of the headline, the phonecalls you’d receive, one after the other in this exact order: Kendall, Shiv, Connor, Roman, Gerri, Karl, Frank. Everyone would know you were teetering on an edge, threatening to jump. Everyone would hold it against you one way or another, as if the word addict were in lights across your fucking forehead. You had to keep yourself together alone. It was up to you. It always was. They could only do so much. They could only support you so much. Besides, they were grieving, too. It wasn’t right to go crying to them. Let them be, you figured. You can do this. You’ve done this before, and that’s when he was alive. That’s when he taunted your every decision. 

The looney bin, he’d called it. Rehab, you were tired of correcting. Now you’d never have to. 

Your sinuses burned all the way through, as if they’d been lit of fire. You threw your head back, dropping the rolled bill, inhaling through your nose. You could feel the blood move through your veins, your lungs inflate and deflate with air, you could feel the tingling, numbing of your gums. You let out a laugh, feeling it burst from your throat like a balloon. Growing, growing, until it popped. The music, the speakers so loud you could feel the bass in your bones, jolting them with every note. Surrounded, the drugs the most popular thing here. Old friends, friends of friends, friends of dealers huddled together like they’re trying to keep warm. An old spot. Underground, far from the city, from your life. Are you running away? You sister had asked you this once, when you were little and packing a suitcase. It was a pediatric act, full of stuffed animals and thick, chewy, cardboard books. Yes, I am. The memory ends there, with your gap-tooth response. You had more baby teeth in your mouth than holes. You were so little, so small, and yet you knew what your life would be like. What it would turn out like if you stayed a second longer. You were still running. It’s what you did best, your only natural instinct. You leaned against someone, a nameless figure dressed in black, watching the neon lights, waiting for anger to disappear, dissipate. Another drink would help. 

You’re not sure what day it is, if it’s night or day. How long you’ve been here. A few days, at least. You slept a bit, in between songs. You were up mostly, seeking distractions, seeking a thrill. The club is dark, almost black. The lights cut through bodies, slicing them to pieces. There are no windows, no clocks, nothing to remind you of the outside world, thank god. The music pounds into your skull. If you just keep moving, dancing, kissing strangers, you won’t have to think about it. About them. You won’t have to look at those awful pictures Connor sent to the group chat, your father’s body in a fucking kilt. You won’t have to feel the vibration in your pocket from his calls, his questions, from everyone else. You were missing something important, something you hadn’t been necessary for, something big for the company. Your brothers and sister were off somewhere with that blonde freak. Per their insistence, Gerri had left a few voicemails. Checking in, asking where you were, if you were alright. They didn’t have time to worry about you, not this weekend. You were just fine. Better than fine, you were great. 

Someone held you close, talking a mile a minute. You couldn’t hear a word that they said, nor did you care. Just keep going. Just keep going. Your heart beat fast in your ear as if it were trying to crack through your ribs, fight its way to the surface, break the skin, splatter on the floor. Maybe then, you’d feel better. Had they broken dad’s ribs doing compression's? Stop it. You kissed them hard, tasting bourbon, mixing it with your tequila. It burned, the concoction, making you gag, but you did it anyways. Your hands shook as you cupped their face, pushing away every bad thought you’d ever had. You could get more coke, more pills, whatever they were offering. Someone was always offering something. Their condolences, they said with pity. Getting high of your old man. Funny. It made you want to laugh until you sobbed. 

More calls, this time from Ken, Shiv, Rome. At first angry, misunderstanding the situation. The anger, the annoyance in their voices. The silent treatment, really? Were you mad they’d gone without you? The jet could only wait so long, and you weren’t picking up your phone. Why were you acting like such a baby? It’s not like you’d showed any interest in the company, either. Gerri had a few harsh words for you, calling you flighty and selfish, making everyone distracted while they had a multi-billion dollar deal on the table. Then they started to worry. Were you okay? Where were you? Please call them, please. Overcome with rage, you threw your phone at the concrete floor, smashing the screen to pieces. You couldn’t listen to it anymore. Not like this, not when you’d ruined everything. You hated worrying them, like you were still a baby, needing help with everything. This was your bender. This was your life. If you wanted to ruin it, if you wanted to set it up in flames, you would. The last thing you saw was a silly picture of Connor you’d taken. He was making a stupid face just long enough for you get it in film. His contact name flashed for a second, then your phone died. Big Brother. Big Brother was worried, had gotten word of your sudden disappearance. He was calling to check in. You slumped on the floor, cradling the bits and pieces, regret setting in as you came down from your high. What have you done? 

You lay with your cheek pressed against a sticky table, the booth warm with other bodies. They pushed into you. You’d taken more pills, washed it down with more alcohol. Things were slowing down now. The world had gone from so fast, so full, so euphoric, to slow motion. Your breathing was slow, your thoughts even more so. Call someone. Who? There were so many people to choose from. The thump of the music jolted the glasses on the table, threatening to crack them to bits. Too many to count. Too many pills. You knew that now. You could feel it. How weak your pulse had become, how shallow your breathing, how cold you’d become all of a sudden. You’d gotten the guy next to you to give you his phone. A phone call, that’s what you were doing. Yes. You dialed the only number you could remember. It went straight to voicemail. Your words came out slurred despite the panic you suddenly felt. You could barely keep your eyes open, they were so heavy, it was so much work. Your breathing ragged, every inhale taking everything out of you. It was so hard to remember anything. You tried another number. Someone picked up, someone scared, someone frantic, talking to others near them, far from you. Calling names you recognized, begging, pleading with you. You didn’t know who though. The words came out before you could stop yourself, slowly, painfully so. Choking them up, nauseous all of a sudden, your whole body shaking. Daddy, I messed up. I messed up and I’m scared. I took too much. I took too much, I did it again. . .

[tactical-jellyfish]

The idiot's guide to fan-fiction (and fan spaces)

Hey, ladies, gents and in-betweens. I'm writing this because I've seen a really big up-tick in people in fandom (both readers and writers) acting in ways that are generally unsavory, and wanted to share the advice that I think is relatively common sense to not be a dickwad!

This will mostly focus on how to behave. If someone wants a version with writing tips, I would be happy to provide, but I also recommend you ask someone smarter than me (I know my limits lmao)

This will be divided into two sections: Readers and writers (obviously), but I'm going to start with....

Readers:

• First things first, be nice. I cannot stress this enough, be nice. Not just to your authors, but to each other. No author wants to come to their comments and see a catfight.

• If you do have advice or criticism, make sure it is constructive! If you need to run your phrasing by someone else or use tone tags, absolutely do! Remember, when people feel hurt by something you said, they're not likely to listen to you very well.

• Now, this is where my rules get much less popular. Be mindful of the person writing your fic. Writing, like any other creative process, can be very draining, and writers have lives outside of their work, too! If you see a lull in output, don't comment on it. It's a bummer, yeah, I get it, but keep those feelings to yourself or complain to a friend. Don't harass a writer. You don't know what they're going through on the other side of that screen.

• Another thing I don't think I should have to say (mostly because tagging is a really popular thing), but you should probably make sure you're in a relatively good state of mind when you read. If it's hurt/no comfort, make sure you can handle that. No writer wants to know their work really fucked up someone else's day.

• I will say my single hottest take. You can be rude if you see fucked-up shit entirely untagged (think: extreme, not-canon-typical violence or abuse, + other subjects that can very much trigger a good deal of people). Things that come with real trauma. Leave a firm comment, but, again, be respectful.

• Yes, you as a reader are responsible for what you read, but there is a clear boundary of disrespect for both the platform and everyone on it when an author purposely leaves a very traumatizing thing untagged when they are very much aware of it. TLDR: Don't be a dickwad! Be nice and Support other readers and writers, but point out shitty behavior if you see it. Remember, any writer worth their salt wants to be accountable for what they put to paper. Be nice, but hold people accountable for their decisions.

Writers:

• I feel like I have less to say here, but that does not mean I won't say anything.

• Right off the bat, take care of yourself. Your work will directly suffer if you are suffering. If you're too sick to write, then don't. It's as simple as that. This is not your job, you get no (or not much) money from it. You are under no obligation to get your next chapter out right this very second. Yes, even if you said it would be out by Thursday, I don't care.

• My real thesis with that is to give your writing time to breathe. Of course, how much you write and when will vary based on who you are and what the other facets of your life are like, but this is fan-fiction. Don't stress yourself into your casket over it.

• Now, I know I said a lot to the readers, but I do have a qualm with some of y'all, too.

• Respect the source material. Yeah, sure, it's fiction. Yeah, sure, you can do whatever you want. But I can tell you upfront that your fic will suffer if you don't care about the characters in it.

• Do a character study. Look at their reactions. Read into the why. Know them so well you could fully predict how they would react to at least four conversations off the top of your head. Yes, even if they're written to be mysterious. Know them anyway.

• Now, here is where I'm going to get a little heated. So, I'm going to be upfront. In this part, I'm going to talk about tagging your fics, and why it's so important to do so. Cancer is discussed, for the sake of my example and also because I am still pissed about the incident I reference.

• Remember that your work is public. Other people can and will see it. You can put who you prefer see your work in your bio if you want, but that doesn't mean that your readers will care.

• I say this specifically for the people who will post a fic to, say, Tumblr, where minors are, and then complain about a minor reading their work. Tell them you don't want them there, but beyond that, there is nothing more you can do. Drill that into your head. If someone wants to read your public work, they will. That's just what happens when you post your work publicly.

• Now, I'm gonna head into some more heavy shit. If you don't wanna hear a mention of cancer, scroll down to the asterisks.

• Let me paint a picture for you real quick. I find a sick-fic. Its tags are simple, nothing too extreme, and so I think it'll be nice and fluffy, a sweet thing to read before bed.

• I am sorely mistaken, as the writer proceeds to give their main character entirely untagged cancer, and then kill them. Again, with no warning for either from the tags! (and the fic was misleadingly well-tagged otherwise)

• I am a cancer survivor. I lost some of my first friends in that ward and I almost died there myself. Do you know how fucking stupid it is to leave something so big untagged??? Where anybody could stumble on it?

• Someone who just lost a family member to cancer could have read that fic. Someone much less mentally stable could have read that fic, that writer could have dug up hurtful memories at a time when someone wasn't ready to think those things. And they gave no warning.

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

• This is what I ask of a writer. I don't think it's a very tall ask: Respect your readers. All of them. Respect everyone who might come across your page, by warning them what they're getting into.

• Especially if you're dealing with something that causes a lot of trauma. If your fic features domestic violence, an eating disorder, anything of that tune, tag it. I cannot say this enough, tag it.

• Yeah, sure, you technically don't need to tag everything (and some little things can very much be excused for me, personally), but I will tell you to your fucking face that I think you're a sack of shit for leaving major, traumatic things untagged. Respect your readers, they're taking time out of their days to spend it with you and your work. If you write things that might trigger trauma, tell them.

• I'm not saying you can't write about a heavy topic. In fact, seeing a heavy topic handled well in fic makes me happy! It means people's struggles are being given a realistic voice, no matter how small.

• I'm telling you that if you really cared about the struggles you're writing about, you would know some people aren't ready to confront them like that. So tell your readers what you're doing. Be transparent with them.

TLDR: Take good care of yourself. Your work is never to be placed before your health, physical or mental. Tag what might be triggering. Even if you don't think it necessary. Tag it anyway.

That's all I really have to say for now, but if you have something to add, please leave a comment! I would be more than happy to elaborate or hear people out on their own takes or further justify my own.

Have a nice day, writers and readers! Much love to all of you :)