#this bad boy can fit so much found family fluff in it

[painted-kneecaps]

i just wrote the silliest scene in p&p&t so far, it’s 4:30 am and i’m losing consciousness but i’m almost at 28k words, and i think i’m going to start posting full chapters on ao3 once i hit 30k !!!

[lady-djarin]

home

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: sickening fluff, established relationship, no outbreak, sarah’s alive and well, some touching and kissing between reader and joel, still adult content but no p in v. mdni

word count: 2.6k

a/n: not edited much (that’s my motto) but i just kinda dumped this out in one go so it could be bad. who knows.

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Dad!”

Ever since Sarah entered middle school she has become quite loud.

“Dad, there you are,” she barreled into the living room where you and Joel sat on the couch. “I need you to sign this.”

She pushes a piece of paper into his face along with a pen. He quints at it to read the small print. You grab it out of his hands when he tries to locate his glasses that are nowhere in sight.

“Oh the dance! How fun,” you handed it back to him and made sure he signed it as you shot Sarah a wink as she bounced happily on her toes.

You have been dating the single dad for around six months and you have grown quite close with Sarah. Joel has expressed how nervous he is about his baby girl getting older and all the things that come along with it. More than anything else he hates the idea of her dating. He signs the paper with his usual grumpy frown but does it nonetheless and in turn Sarah squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Can you take me shopping tomorrow, I only have a week to shop for a dress,” Sarah put on her best puppy dog face that usually works on her father.

“I’m sorry angel I’ve got a job tomorrow,” he did look genuinely upset that he couldn’t spend the time with his daughter.

“I’ll take you, we can have a girls day,” you had been wanting to spend some one on one time with Sarah and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Oh my god, thank you!” She squealed again and jumped on you and wrapped you in a tight hug. She ran up the stairs talking mostly to herself about what kind of dress and makeup she was planning for her first dance.

“Thank you darlin’, you didn’t have to do that.” He rubbed your leg with his large warm hand and the other came up to hold your face as he kissed you tenderly.

“Oh please, I love that kid. Plus, I don’t think shopping is your forte,” you both laughed at how true that was.

Even though you’ve only been seeing Joel for a few months, you have never felt so at home. He and Sarah have welcomed you in like you were always meant to fit in their little family. You knew you were never one to have kids of your own but the young girl makes you feel more maternal than you ever have in your life.

~

You and Sarah spend the day in the mall finding stores to invade and try on every dress possible. She finally settled on a beautiful deep purple shimmery one that made her look way older than she needed to, but it was appropriate. Afterwards you found the food court and dug into some pizza and garlic knots.

“So… since your dad will never bring this up… are you going with anyone to the dance? Like maybe a boy? or girl, I don't judge.”

You knew she probably didn’t want to talk about it as pre-teens never do but you wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson but she giggled slightly, telling you there was someone.

“I mean… I’m not going with anyone but my friends but…”

She was avoiding telling you the truth, maybe because she thought you’d rat her out to her dad.

“Look Sarah… I'm not asking to be a snitch, I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart, that's all.”

She looked up at you with shyness but trust in her deep brown eyes.

“There is this boy… Ben,” she had the most radiant smile on her face telling you about her crush. He’s a little older than her but in the same grade and apparently very sweet and has blue eyes and dark blonde hair. You can imagine her sitting in class staring at him instead of listening to the teacher.

“So, are you going to meet him at the dance?”

“I mean we haven’t made plans but… I told him I’d see him there, and he followed me on instagram!”

It all reminded you of the days before adult pressure and complicated feelings. You smiled as she continued to tell you about him and the things she found endearing.

“Ok now, I have to ask and be the annoying adult but have you, you know… done anything with boys before?”

While she was only just under thirteen you still had to make sure, kids do anything these days.

“Like what?” She gave you a scrunched confused face then slowly realized what you were asking. “Like kissing?! Oh no that’s gross, boys smell anyway…,” she seemed to maintain her innocence for a while longer.

Thank god.

“Well that’s fair, but just remember, if a boy ever tries to do anything you don’t like, you can always say no. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked a little confused at your instruction but nodded anyway. She’s a very smart kid and strong willed, you have full faith in her.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the mall and you both finally decided to end up getting your nails done.

~

Joel came home to find you both cooking dinner, a hoard of shopping bags littered the house.

“There’s my girls,” he ruffled his daughter's hair and covered her eyes jokingly as he kissed you deeply. “How was shopping? Successful it seems like.”

“Very…,” Joel’s eyes kept flicking down to your lips, as they often did when he got home from work.

“Dad, look! We got our nails done!” She splayed her fingers out so he could inspect her manicure. You let her get some slightly ‘grownup’ nails, small extensions with french tips. She said she’ll be the talk of the dance.

“Oh look at that… my little girl is all grown up…,” he looked a little queasy and you both laughed at his reluctance to let her grow up.

“Sarah, why don’t you put these bags away and I'll finish dinner, ok?”

She hugged you tight around your middle and mumbled about a million ‘thank you’s into the fabric of your shirt before grabbing her bags and darting up the stairs.

As soon as she disappeared Joel grabbed your hips as he stood behind you and pulled you into his hard chest. He attached his lips to your neck and ran his hands over your curves.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His voice was low and gravely in your ear.

“Mmm, not today…”

He pulled you impossibly closer and nuzzled his mouth against your neck. “Well I do, I love you so damn much,” he continued kissing down your neck and any skin he could reach. “Sarah loves you too you know, she’s always talking about you…”

It felt like he wanted to talk about something else, something more. Your relationship has been going so well and it kind of feels like it’s time to take the next step. While you both know that this is it, there’s no one else for either of you, it might not be exactly time yet to tie the knot. However you have talked about sharing a space, the idea of living together is exciting to both of you.

“Well I love her, she’s a great kid, because you’re a great dad.” You turned in his arms and returned the kisses along his jaw. Just as you slid your hands into his back pockets, loud very teen sounding footsteps came racing down the stairs. You pulled away from each other but Sarah was too busy looking at her nails to notice. The timer on the oven beeped and as Joel and his daughter set the table you gathered the rest of dinner.

You sat around the table like you always did on Saturday nights and talked about the plans for the next week and the dance. You really did love your little found family.

~

The following Saturday you sat in Sarah’s room with her and a couple friends of hers, helping do their hair and makeup. Joel happened to have a poker game tonight with Tommy so he said bye just before the teen girl screaming got too loud. So here you were, a fully grown woman essentially playing dress up with a few 13 year olds. But you couldn’t be happier.

After the girls were ready and a lengthy photoshoot ensued, you were off. Four screaming voices all trying to harmonize to some pop song over the radio made your ears ring but seeing Sarah so happy made it worth it.

The plan was to pick her up around 10pm when it ended.

So you were super confused when you got a call from Sarah around 8:30pm.

“Hey girl, what’s going on? You ok?”

All you heard at first was a sniffle, then a deep breath before her wobbly voice came over the speaker. “N-no, not really…”

Your heart stopped for a second but you tried to stay calm.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to hide the urgency in your voice.

“Ben… he—“ hiccup “He was a… a total jerk!” Her voice was strained and scratchy like she had been crying for some time.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry… You know what, you stay in the office, ok? I'm going to come get you.”

She only mumbled a quiet ‘ok, bye’ before you slammed the phone down on the receiver and grabbed your keys. You shaved off probably five to ten whole minutes speeding through the streets to the school.

You quickly make your way to the office and find her with mascara running down her cheeks. She hiccuped and sniffled when she saw you before sluggishly standing and wrapping her arms around you. She sobbed slightly into your sweatshirt and you wrapped the one you brought her around her shoulders. After the teacher who waited with her waved you out, you gathered her into your car and made your way home.

But before reaching the familiar street you had an idea. Sarah had been slumped in her seat with the sweatshirt wrapped tight to her form until she saw the neon lights. You swore you saw her eyes light up when she saw the ‘Dairy Queen’ sign and it warmed your heart.

She got her usual birthday cake flavor of course, and you got your favorite. Before now you tried to let her have a few breathing moments but as you settled in the parking lot you tried to get some information from her.

“Are you ok?”

“Boys are so stupid…,” another tear slipped out of her eye.

“I know… I hate to say it but they don’t get much better.” You managed to get a laugh out of her which was an improvement. “What did Ben do?”

She spooned the thick ice cream into her mouth and tried to talk around it. “H-he was with that girl Rebecca all night and I tried to say ‘hi’ but he ignored me and pretended I wasn’t there. They were laughing at me…,” She resolved into sobs again and you rubbed her shoulder to try and comfort as best as you could.

“Oh god I’m sorry that’s so… shitty.” You never really cursed around her as she’s still young but this felt appropriate. It also helped draw out a laugh again, which made you both smile. “Look, boys like that are not worth your time. He’s playing games and you don’t want a boy who plays games. If anyone ever talks to you like that, it means they don’t respect you. You should only be friends, or more, with someone who respects you. Does that make sense?”

She looked at you with her red-rimmed and puffy eyes and you knew she got it. Of course she got it, she’s a smart kid.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you… I'm sorry I freaked you out.” The light returned to her eyes as she giggled at her own words.

“You didn’t freak me out… too bad.” You were both laughing now, recalling the way you sped over to the school. “Look we can talk more if you want but I think you need some ‘you’ time tonight. Let’s get you some of my nice bath stuff and we can do a little spa night?”

“That sounds nice… thank you.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. On the way home you told her stories of things boys had done to you in the past. You did make sure to let her know that her dad was not one of them, he was the best kind of guy. Once you arrived home you gave her some bath stuff and gave her a clean towel and told her you’d wait downstairs for her.

You made some tea in the meantime and shortly after, Joel got home. Before he said anything he looked towards the stairs and heard the shower running. He gave you a quizzical look and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“So Sarah had me pick her up early…”

He already looked concerned.

“She’s fine… it was boy drama. We talked and she’s still upset but she’ll live.”

He breathed out a dramatic sigh and you welcomed him into your arms.

“This is what I was worried about,” he sounded so defeated.

“Joel, it’s bound to happen. Every girl gets her heart broken, it’s inevitable unfortunately.” You rubbed your palm over his stubble and looked over his tired features. “She’s smart and strong willed. Boys will be intimidated by her when she realizes it.”

He softened at that. “Thank you for helping her so much, she really has opened up since knowing you.”

“She’s really something, just like her dad. He’s not too shabby,” you giggled as he pinched your waist.

“I’m not too shabby? That’s sweet.”

You mirrored his smile as he boxed you between himself and the kitchen counter. He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue between your lips, tasting every inch of you. Your hum reverberated through your chest into his and your skin lit on fire from the inside out. Desire instantly pooled in your lower stomach and you ground your hips into his. This only resulted in his hard, jean clad thigh slipping between yours and pushing against your clothed sex. You moaned into his mouth and just as you felt like you were going to lose it, Joel pulls away and then you hear descending footsteps.

Sarah reaches the bottom but doesn’t come down, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired. Sorry dad.”

“That’s ok angel, you sleep good. Love you.”

“Love you guys,” then she’s gone.

“‘Love you guys’?” you look at Joel with surprise. “Did she just say she loves me?”

He just stares down at you with this tender look, unresponsive for a few moments.

“Move in with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a plea. Like he couldn’t imagine you’d say no. Because why would you?

“Really?” Your heart raced.

“Yes really, we both want you here. More than anything.”

“Of course, I’d love to!” You squealed like Sarah did earlier tonight and launched yourself at him. He caught you around the middle and pulled you up, sounding giddy as you did while he spun you around.

You spent the first night in your now full time shared bed after Joel showed you all the ways he truly, passionately loved you.

You knew you were finally home.

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ boyfriend!rafe hc’s

warnings: swearing, death by fluff.

: ̗̀➛ because of the way ward treated him, rafe struggles massively expressing his feelings, especially verbally.

: ̗̀➛ instead, he opts for acts of service and gift giving.

: ̗̀➛ that boy would do absolutely anything for y/n.

: ̗̀➛ he adores her to no end, forever showing her off.

: ̗̀➛ every birthday, he buys her new jewellery with his name engraved on the inside as a constant reminder that she’s his and he is hers.

: ̗̀➛ on the days she hasn’t slept over at his house, he’ll show up on y/n’s door step with a bouquet of flowers.

: ̗̀➛ “rafe, baby, i really do not have enough vases to put all these flowers in..”

: ̗̀➛ you can bet money that from now on, he shows up with a new vase too, everytime.

: ̗̀➛ he just wants to give her all of his love, his hearts been locked away for so long.

: ̗̀➛ it definitely took him a few months to really open up at first, so desperately wanting to impress her, rather than show her the ‘bad side’ of him.

: ̗̀➛ but to her, no side of rafe cameron could be bad.

: ̗̀➛ he adored the way she cared for every living creature, person, organism, you name it.

: ̗̀➛ “it’s just a bee angel, it’ll be fine..”

: ̗̀➛ “rafe, if you don’t get me some sugar water right now, i swear to god..”

: ̗̀➛ and of course he does exactly that.

: ̗̀➛ he always made sure he didn’t let his father see how much she really meant to him, or atleast he tried his best.

: ̗̀➛ he knew if ward found out the lengths he’d go to, to protect her, he’d use it to his advantage.

: ̗̀➛ incessant kisses/touches, all the time, everywhere.

: ̗̀➛ he wasn’t too big on making out in public, preferring to simple keep a hand on her at all times.

: ̗̀➛ “rafe, please let go of my nose..”

: ̗̀➛ “but it’s so cute and small!”

: ̗̀➛ he absolutely carried her shopping bags, all of them, and if they didn’t all fit on his arms…

: ̗̀➛ “you called me here, urgently, to carry your girlfriends bags?”

: ̗̀➛“take the fucking bag kelce!”

: ̗̀➛ rafe wasn’t one for extravagance very often, instead he’d plan more spontaneous dates.

: ̗̀➛ he’d take y/n into the woods, where an old treehouse was. he’d found it a few weeks beforehand.

: ̗̀➛ he spent the whole week leading up to date night decorating the tree house with fairy lights and cushions.

: ̗̀➛ he’d even bring a wicker picnic basket, filled with all of y/n’s favourite snacks.

: ̗̀➛ on a bad day, he’d cancel all of his plans just to make sure she was okay.

: ̗̀➛ “rafe, you really don’t need to stay here with me all day, i’ll be okay”

: ̗̀➛ “what if i want to stay here all day?”

: ̗̀➛ late night dances in the kitchen while sneaking a late night snack.

: ̗̀➛ spraying whipped cream into his mouth while they made pancakes together in the morning.

: ̗̀➛ “you’re so gross”

: ̗̀➛ “you love me for it”

: ̗̀➛ when he had a bad day, he was a moper, especially if y/n wasn’t there to stroke his head while he laid his head in her lap.

: ̗̀➛ he dreamt of the day they finally get married and start a family.

: ̗̀➛ safe to say, rafe’s completely and utterly starstruck by her.

[lillypad910]

His Angel

Pairing: Bi! Eddie Munson x Bi! Christian (Baptist) raised! plus sized! girly! f! Reader

Word count: 10k

Warnings: (this is not pre-read, so it may have errors) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv, protected sex (they wrap it), fluff (lots of it mixed in), reader identifies as an atheist after childhood trauma dealing with religious beliefs, pet names (Angel [main], Sweetheart, Baby, Baby girl), use of (y/n) but only with family members.

Summary: You were always a good girl, a good Christian girl who wanted to be loved by your family. But growing up in that house was hard. With two older brothers way older than you, and parents already in their late 50’s, your relationship with your family is… difficult. You were taught that what you are is wrong, but then you fell in love with a certain guitarist who makes you remember that you are worthy of love.

A/n: Came up with this idea a couple days ago (literally right after my last post about having writer’s block), and just went to town on it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

If you wanna be tagged when I post ask or comment telling me so!

All photos found on Pinterest

You remember your childhood vividly, it wasn’t ‘bad’ for the most of it. Church was a constant play in the workings of your family home. Your mother a youth worker within the church (your church didn’t actually allow her to hold ‘pastor’ as her term), your father an old choir boy, now working a normal 9-5 job in an office building. Your family attended church every Wednesday and Sunday, every Easter, thanksgiving, and Christmas. There was no alcohol allowed in your house, not even during the holidays.

You have two older brothers, both of them were closer in age, only five years apart, while you were ten years apart from the youngest of the two, so you grew up practically on your own. You were raised primarily by your older parents, bother already reaching their 40’s when you were born.

Your oldest brother, Logan, once said in a fit of anger that you were an accident. You didn’t understand at the time, but now that you’re older, you get it.

You’ll never forget that one fated day you sat in your room, you had just turned thirteen a few weeks before. Sarah, your friend from church, someone you’ve known since you were infants, sat across from you. You were making friendship bracelets.

There was something about Sarah, she was just so… so pretty. Her long blond hair always perfectly curled, her gorgeous green eyes you could swear you could stare into for hours.

Elijah, your other friend, a boy from school, had told you that you shouldn’t act on any of your feelings for Sarah. His daddy had told him it was wrong to feel that way, to feel… attracted… to the same gender. But you couldn’t help it.

You had spent many nights sleeping over at Sarah’s and her at yours. As children you would hold hands on the playground. Your parents thought it was cute how close you two were. But as you sat in front of her that day, that beautiful day. The sun setting outside, the shades of purples and blues mixing with the warm orange, of the last golden rays highlighting her hair perfectly. You couldn’t help it.

You kissed her.

It happened so fast, you leaned over, capturing her lips with yours before pulling away. Your heart raced in your chest, beating faster, and faster, and faster. Her beautiful green eyes widened, her expression of shock was even pretty. Did she feel this way too? Did you act to fast? Before you could say anything to her, she quickly stood and ran out of the room. You heard her yell out for your mom as her foot steps made it down the stairs.

Oh no. Oh no no no no!

Your hand slapped against your chest, your heart not slowing as you began to panic. You read it all wrong, all wrong!

It’s all gone wrong. Elijah was right. I should have kept quiet. Held back.

Maybe I can play it off?

Your mother came barging into your room as you picked back up the bracelet quickly. “Hi, Momma!” You gave her a smile. It was so fake, but you just beg the lord she won’t notice. “Dewdrop,” your mother’s voice that day was stern, “did you-“ she cuts herself off, taking a deep breath, as if trying to calm her emotions, “Did you… kiss… Sarah…?”

Your brain had scattered, terrified how she was gonna react. You took too long.

She had snatched you off the rug before you could even say anything else, dragging you by your ear and down the stairs. Her hand raised before you before you could react.

Smack!

It been years since that day, as you now sit at your desk in your room, the pink floral wallpaper from your childhood always and forever familiar.

Tap! Tap!

You look over at your window, your eyes widening as you spot the long curly mop of hair even through the darkness outside. Quickly making your way to your window, opening the pane carefully, your heart racing as you are greeted by the softest, most comforting brown eyes you ever did see. “Eddie!” You whisper yell at him, your voice filled with concern and worry, “what are you doing here? You know my parents can’t see you!”

Eddie is all smiles, his eyes glancing down to your lips, “So? I thought you liked the chance of getting caught?” You roll your eyes, happy you are allowed to lock your door now that you’re older. “So…” he grips his hand tighter on the windowsill, “gonna let your boyfriend in? Or?” You immediately step back, muttering a sorry as you help him throw himself into your room without knocking anything over.

After straightening out his leather jacket and denim vest, he steps closer to you, reaching out and gripping at your nightgown, balling the fabric into his fists. “How’s my beautiful girlfriend?” You can’t help but smile at him, “I’m ok,” your hands slowly move up his chest, your eyes watching your fingers cling at his leather jacket, “how about you, Romeo?” He smiles, leaning in and giving your rosy cheek a peck, “I’ve been good, bored though.” “Oh?” “Mhmm,” His lips pressed soft kisses against your skin, getting closer and closer to your lips, before stopping. “You fucking tease…” you pout, gripping a little tighter at his jacket, making him chuckle. “Oh I’m sorry, did my good girl just swear? In her family home?” “Shut up.”

He pulls away and drops down onto your bed, spreading out across your powder blue duvet. “Come here,” he gestures for you to come lay with him, but you do something he doesn’t entirely expect.

You lift your nightgown, giving him the smallest glimpse of your white panties, the little blue bow on the front catching his eyes’ attention, before climbing over his legs. Your legs sit on either side of his hips, your center lowering just on top of his crotch, making him let out a soft groan. “Happy?” You ask, grinding your hips down and he grips at them quickly, steadying you. “Fucking swear, if you keep doing that-“ “What? You’ll do what, Munson?” Your voice is sugar sweet, faking innocence so well.

“Fuck, gonna make me cream my pants, Angel.” He sits up, adjusting his position so his hands are down on the bed behind him, propping him up. “Oh? Am I too much for you- Ah!” You gasp, cutting your sentence short as you’re flipped over, quickly looking at the door before back up at the guy on top of you. Eddie smirks down at you, his eyes glancing down at your lips. “Never,” he kisses you quickly, “ever,” another kiss, “think you’re too much for me.” He kisses your nose this time, before nuzzling it with his own.

He softly kisses you again, his lips pressing gently to yours, but slowly he picks up, kissing a little more desperately. His lips are slightly chapped, scratching a bit against your perfectly smooth lips. Your heart picks up, breath becoming more unsteady with every smooch. His hands guide down to your hips, pulling your nightgown up and to your waist, making your panties entirely visible. He pulls away, tilting his head down to the view he so desperately loves. “Could stare at you all day, Angel.” He gives you one final kiss before beginning to kiss down your neck. His fingers curl around the hem of your underwear, pulling them down slowly as his kisses travel down your clothed chest and bare stomach.

“All mine,” he hums into your skin, “all for me.” He pulls your underwear past your knees, gripping one of your thighs and pulling your shin and foot through the leg hole. “Gonna kill me one day,” he kisses along your lifted thigh. You feel yourself getting wet from his touch, his kisses sending shivers down your spine. He pulls your panties off your other leg, looking back up at your eyes before pocketing the white pair. “Mine now.” You can’t help but giggle at him, not able to count just how many crusty pairs you’ve gotten back weeks later.

His fingers move to your stomach, his palms kneading into your chubby belly like a ball of dough, before moving lower. A soft gasp leaves your lips, sounding like the most beautiful melody Eddie has ever heard as his fingers slip inside you.

Eddie swears he could watch you take his fingers all day. The way your eyebrows scrunch up, your eyes go blown, your thighs try to press together.

He leans down, brushing his nose against your clit. He watches his fingers thrust in and out of you from such close proximity, before licking your folds. Your hand quickly flies up to cover your mouth as you moan, trying to keep quiet with your parents just down the hall.

“E-Eds…!” You gasp, his free hand pressing your legs farther apart, his hips now rutting into your mattress as he buries his face in your cunt, lapping up your arousal. You let out a soft whimper as your toes curl, your hips now lifting off the bed to push into his face. Eddie removes his fingers from you, now gripping under your thighs and around to your hips, pulling your body into his face more. Your thighs squeeze around his head as you feel yourself release, gripping the duvet under you. Your eyes blur over with a few tears from the feeling, still not entirely used to being pushed to this amount of euphoria.

Your legs softly get set on the bed, a wet spot under you as Eddie climbs back up, placing a soft kiss on your stomach before smiling down at you. “Angel,” he reaches up and cups your face, tilting it to look at him, “You still with me?” It came out with a soft laugh, teasing. “Yeah,” you breathe out, breathe still heavy as you come down from the high, “Yeah, I’m here.” He smiles and pulls your nightgown back down, his obvious erection still poking at your thigh.

You sit up, glancing back at your door before turning back to your secret boyfriend. “Sweetheart,” his voice draw you back in, his fingers wrapping around your chin and pulling you against his chest as he leans back against your pillows, “don’t worry so much, you keep glancing at the door like they hear us.” He kisses your cheek, nuzzling into you. You blush as the only thing you can smell is you. “Eddie,” you quietly groan out his name, practically a whisper. He hums, fumbling with the belt to undo it. You blush as he shimmies his pants and boxers down his hips. You tilt your head to the wall, your blush spreading to your ears.

“Angel,” Eddie places his hands on your back, “look at me.” You pull back and look at him, your heart beating fast.

“You can tell me if you want to stop, Sweetheart. You know that.” He kisses your nose, his fingers slowly moving to ball your nightgown up, letting his warm fingers press to your now bare back. “Do you want to stop?” His voice is calm, no judgment present anywhere. “No… I-I wanna…” your eyes glance at your mirror, giving you sight of your door. Eddie’s eyes soften.

“Angel, you were being all confident earlier, now you’re shrinking and keep looking to make sure your door is shut.” He kisses your nose, making you melt a little into him. He hesitates for a moment, “is it… because of back then…?” You freeze, immediately your head snaps to look at him, his deep brown eyes staring at you with such love.

“Do you wanna sneak out…?” You ask, trying to dodge the reality of your trauma. Eddie’s eyes narrow, “Oh no, you’re talking about it now. You have no choice.” “What? No!” You whisper yell. “Angel,” Eddie pushes you off of him a little, making your eyes widen, the fear of rejection again banging on your heart. He pulls up his pants again, before pulling you back onto him, immediately shushing those thoughts, “Talk to me.”

“I just-“ you hesitate, you let out a deep breath, “I’m scared…” Eddie’s eyes soften, his hands sliding down to your hips, grounding you. “What of?” “Here.” The word comes out tense, your discomfort obvious, but not from him or his actions, just the place. Your room. Your house.

“Baby,” Eddie rubs his thumb over your hip, “We can pick this up tomorrow, we don’t have to-“ “No!” You immediately wince and cover your mouth at your raised voice. “I-I mean…”

A thud comes from across the house. You both freeze.

Shit.

You both scurry to get up, you pulling down your nightgown as he quickly goes to hide in your closet behind your door. You quickly shut your window, unlock your door, and sit at your desk, immediately jumping back up from the cold feeling on your —you shockingly forgot— exposed lower body. You don’t have time to grab another pair of panties so you just tuck your night gown under you and sit.

A knock comes on your door immediately after you sit. “Yes?” You call out. The door opens and your mother pops her head in, “Did you make a loud noise?” You just nod.

“Yeah sorry, I, uh, messed up my paper. Did I wake you?” She hums in response, “technically, but it’s alright. It’s almost midnight, Darling—” the nickname makes you cringe. It’s the same one she called you that day. “— make sure you get some sleep.” She smiles at you, before shutting your door and you hear steps heading back down the hall. You finally let out the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Eddie sticks his head out, making sure the coast is clear before stepping out. “That was terrifying.” “Yeah no shit, Eds.” You tell him as he steps closer to you, he places his hand on your head and leans down a bit to kiss your hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” You look up at him, “but-!” “No buts, Angel. You’re too stressed here, I’m gonna sneak you out of class tomorrow and take you somewhere more private. Then we can finish what we started.” He lets you lay your head onto his stomach for a moment.

“Fine…” you hate that he’s right. Your room hasn’t been a ‘safe space’ since you were thirteen. He gives your head one more kiss before climbing back out your window.

You and Eddie run out of the school, hand in hand, adrenaline pumping through you as you both book it to his van. It was only 12:35pm, luckily for both of you, your lunch had just started, so it was easy to walk out of ‘class’, class being the cafeteria with an annoyed teacher by the doors who doesn’t care that you leave.

You both slip into his van, giggling as you pull out one of the cassettes from his glove compartment and pop it in, Metallica immediately filling the van. “So, I was thinking, food first, maybe milkshakes at Benny’s, then maybe park somewhere?” Eddie pulls the car out of the spot in the lot. “Sounds good to me.”

You pull up to Benny’s, immediately seeing the girl you’ve had a solid crush on for two years was working. “Eds, it’s her!” You practically slap your hand over his chest. “Holly shit- uh, do I look ok? Cute?” “Always.” Eddie’s smile was genuine, but you glare at him slightly, “I don’t want ‘always’ I need an opinion!” Eddie chuckles as he watches you step out of his car, straightening your dress. “Sweetheart, I feel like she’s not gonna care-“ “Shh, don’t ruin it.”

You both step into the diner, Eddie holding the door open for you. “Take a seat anywhere!” Her voice calls out. You both take a booth by the window, Eddie giving you the side that best angles you to always be able to see her. “You’re always so supportive and I love you for it.” He smiles at your admission. “Can’t do anything without my permission, Angel.” “I know.”

“Hi, I’m Chris, I’ll be your server,” the girl you practically drool over pulls out a pen and her serving note pad, “What can I get you both?” She asks, glancing at you first before Eddie. Eddie watches you, your eyes practically glittering and he tries not to laugh. “A double cheeseburger for me, please. No onions. Sparkle over there will have a short stake of chocolate chip pancakes, two scrambled eggs with cheese and a bowl of grits, butter and cheese in that too.” The girl, Chris, smiles at him, impressed he knows the girl across from him—you—so well. “And to drink?” She just looks to Eddie this time, “Two chocolate milkshakes, and two waters. She’ll also have a cup of coffee, vanilla creamer.”

You snap out of your gaze after she begins to walk away, “Wait, what? What happened?” “You spaced.” “What!?” You look over at him, “It’s ok, Angel, I ordered for you.” You give him a soft smile. “Oh yeah? What did you order me?” “You’ll see.”

When the food arrives to the table you practically have your mouth watering on the table at the array of food, especially thankful for the cup of coffee. “I love you, you take such good care of me.” You pretend to wipe a tear from your eye. “Hmm.”

As you both eat, Eddie randomly slaps his hand down on the table, then excessively taps it, not loud enough to grab the attention of others, just you. “Oh my-“ you look up at him and see he’s looking towards the door. You turn and see a young man walking in, his long hair and attire very similar to the boy sitting across from you. “Eddie, sweetie, you’re gay is showing.” You hold your straw as you take a sip of your shake, staring at your boyfriend. “Says the girl who drools over the waitress.” Eddie shoots back. You place your hand over your heart, “you wound me, Eds.”

“Is he cute? He’s cute. Shit.” Eddie’s cheeks suddenly turn red, making you laugh. “Now who’s drooling-” “I’m not drooling…!” Eddie blushes.

When you both finish your food, you get back in his van and he drives to a secluded spot, parking behind an abandoned shopping center that no one even drives by anymore. You sit there for a moment thinking about how to initiate, before your boyfriend quickly pulls himself through the seats and into the trunk of his van.

Eddie adjusts the blankets and pillows he shoved back there earlier that morning, watching as you squeeze yourself through the seats following him. He pulls you straight onto his lap, lifting your dress up so your thighs are exposed to his hands. “I love you,” his voice is soft, pulling you in and making you swoon. “I love you more,” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaving soft kisses on his lips before moving down his jaw and neck.

Eddie’s fingers grip tighter on your thighs, nails digging into the soft skin. You exhale a soft sigh. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Eddie speaks first, grinding your hips down on his crotch, “Want you so bad, been thinking about it all day.” You giggle softly, nuzzling your nose into his cheek as you enjoy the feeling of his growing tent in his pants.

“Yeah?” You ask, nibbling at his earlobe before pulling away. He groans, annoyed you stopped but glides his hands up under your dress. “I love that you wear dresses, I don’t care if it’s technically for your mom, it gives me the perfect access to you,” his hands massage the fat on your sides, digging his thumbs in your skin, “should take it off though, don’t wanna get it dirty.”

You grip the hem of your dress and pull it over your head, your bra now visible to him. He lifts his hands up your skin and cup his fingers around the garment. You look into his eyes as you watch him continue to stare at your body, his pupils blown, making his comforting brown eyes look black. You grab his vest and jacket and help him slide it off his arms, throwing them both to the side. He yanks off the Hellfire shirt before smashing his lips onto yours, kissing you with such passion.

He pulls back, shimmying down his pants while you quickly pull off your underwear. Before the fabric is even entirely off your legs, you’re pulled back onto his lap, your back facing him this time, you look down and immediately blush. His cock is perfectly placed between your thighs, the red tip sticking out and tapping against your stomach with every twitch. “E-Eddie,” you reach back and cup his head from behind you as he grips tightly at your hips, grinding you against his length, his shaft rubbing against your clit.

“Wanna grab us a condom from behind my seat?” He asks. You nod, pulling away from him and reaching down. Eddie swears he would do it raw if he could confirm you wouldn’t get pregnant, but your parents would never allow you on birth control. You grab one of the foils and climb back up against him, opening your legs so his cock is accessible and rolling the condom down. “Relax, Angel, I’ve got you,” he kisses your cheek before lifting your hips, his cock practically jumping to press against you.

You gasp as you’re slowly pulled down, your cunt sheathing his cock without much resistance. Before long, your ass presses back on his crotch, his length fully in you. “You ok?” He asks, hearing your breath picking up. You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. He reaches up and tilts your head back to him, making you look at him, “use your words, Baby.” “I’m ok.”

Before too long your feet are planted against the bed of his van, your hips moving up and down, up and down, as you bounce yourself on him. His hands grip tightly at your waist, his soft groans giving you praise as you try not to just cum on him. “Baby,” his voice pulls you back in, making you whimper. He lifts you off of him, before turning you back around, making you straddle his lap again before going back down. His hands move down your thighs, until one slopes just below your belly, his thumb finding your clit. You crumble at the sudden addition, your head falling to his shoulder.

Eddie loves watching his little Angel crumble because of him. Watching your body shake as your thighs clench, your hands balling into fists on his chest as you try your damn best not to explode, not wanting him to stop. “Come on, Angel,” he whispers into your ear, leaving small kitten licks over your lobe, “cum for me, Baby, need to feel you cum.”

His lips press to the corner of your mouth, “Come on, Baby girl, wanna feel you, need to feel you cum.” His fingers rub harder into your clit, making you moan. Before long you’re gasping as you cry, your boyfriend thrusting up into you as your body shakes. Eddie kisses your cheeks, nose and forehead as your thighs squeeze at his hips, your body releasing around him. “There we go, such a good girl, doing so good for me, Angel,” Eddie kisses your lips as you feel his thighs getting sticky from your arousal.

He shuffles, slowly and carefully laying you back in the bed of the van, onto a blanket with a couple pillows behind your head. He doesn’t leave you, careful to not disconnect your bodies. He climbs over you, pushing your legs out and around his waist. He kisses your hairline, slowly beginning to thrust into you. Your whimpers and moans fill the air around you, his hips moving slow at first before picking up pace.

You brush his hair away from his face before pulling him closer and kissing him, your lips moving in perfect sync. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as he goes a little harder.

It doesn’t take long till you cum again, this time he fucks you through it even harder, not stopping or slowing. His groans sound so hypnotic, like a praise leaving his lips without actual words. He thrusts one final time, holding his hips hard against yours as you feel his cock twitch inside you, his face scrunching as he finishes into the condom.

Eddie drops down, his lips pressing to yours repeatedly, before pulling out. Your legs shakily drop to the floorboard, cunt clenching around nothing as you try to come down from your high. He pulls off the condom, ties it off before dropping it between the seats. He pulls up his jeans and boxers before slipping your underwear back up your legs. “You did such a good job, Angel,” Eddie kisses your eyelids, before leaving a soft kiss on your lips, “I’m so proud of you.”

You can’t stop yourself from blushing as he pulls you onto his chest, laying down with you in the blankets. He snuggles into your hair, kissing your head as you smile from his kisses. “You enjoy this too much,” you enquire, giggling a little when he kisses your nose. “I do, but it’s not my fault my girl is so beautiful when she’s coming down from an orgasm.” You roll your eyes, but not in an annoyed way, you enjoy his teasing.

You don’t know what got into you as you climb down the lattice outside your window. You were never a disobedient child growing up, but for some reason you still climb down one foot after the other, time reaching 8pm as you hit the ground.

You turn to see your beautiful curly haired boyfriend grinning ear to ear at you. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this. I’m a bad influence on you.” You glare at him but don’t deny it, cause he is. “I didn’t know what to wear, so I hope you brought something for me to change into.”

Eddie smirks as he grabs your hand, pulling you down the street and to his parked van. He opens the back, showing the few t-shirts he brought from his closet. “Pick one. Any one.” He smiles at you. You grab one of them climbing into the back before he shuts the doors behind you.

You quickly pull off your frilly floral shirt, chunking it to the side of the van, before slipping the Metallica shirt over your head. It’s a little snug, but you don’t hate it. You quickly pull your hair up in a ponytail with the red scrunchy on your wrist.

Climbing to the front, Eddie already half way there to the bar, you sit yourself in the passenger seat, quickly pulling a lipstick you stuck in your pocket and pulling down the visor to see your reflection. You apply the red lipstick, a much deeper color than you usually wear.

Eddie glances over, watching you apply the makeup. He had to be careful with staring, picturing those now perfectly red lips smothering his cock with kisses, leaving lipstick all over his shaft-

“Eddie?” You call out to him, and he looks at you again for a quick second. “Yeah?” “I just remembered I’ve never met the guys.”

It’s true, you’ve been dating for maybe 6 months, but it’s entirely secret to people you both know personally. Eddie had asked you to come to the show tonight because he wants you to meet them. The guys: Gareth, Jeff, and Kevin. He wants you to attend Hellfire meetings, meet Dustin, the kid he practically took under his wing, have you attend his shows, meet his uncle. He doesn’t want you to be a secret anymore to his side of life.

“Then you’ll get to meet them.”

Eddie and you pull up to The Hideout Tuesday night. You’re nervous pick up as he parks the van. “Hey,” Eddie reaches over and grabs your hand, “I appreciate you wanna see me play, Angel. But if you’re uncomfortable, I can take you home.” You shake your head.

You’ve been looking forward to watching him play live for months, and nows your chance. Besides, he’s already snuck you out of your house, you might as well enjoy it.

Eddie opens the car door for you, helping you out of your seat before holding your hand as you walk inside through the back entrance.

You hear laughing and talking coming from around the corner, and before long you’re dragged into a room with three boys you recognize from classes. “Hey, guys.” Eddie greets them. They all turn to you both, the messy haired blond tilting his head first. “Who’s that?” He asks. Eddie looks at you, and you look at him, your eyes more nervous than his but his soft eyes comfort you.

“Angel,” he simply says. The guys stay silent for a moment, before gasping and running up closer. “Holly shit!” You know this one, Jeff from Chemistry, practically screams as he reaches for your hand, “You’re like a whole myth at our lunch table!” You blush as it dawns in you.

He talks about you. Eddie talks about you to his friends, he might not have told them who you were until this very moment, but god damnit, he talks about you.

“Eddie can’t shut up about his ‘Sweet Angel’ practically fawning over you every lunch period.” The blond follows. “Refuses to clean his shirt of lipgloss or lipstick before school just so we’ll ask about it. Fucking bastard.” The bigger guy slaps Eddie over the head.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, I mean look at her. Can you blame me?” Eddie is practically glowing, his smile bigger than you’ve even seen it, and that’s saying something. “Wait,” Jeff looks at you for a minute, squinting his eyes. “Chemistry right? You sit towards the front?” You nod, “yeah, Jeff right?” You smile at him. “Yeah, shit, almost didn’t recognize you. Not in your usual floral dresses tonight.” “Yeah, kinda not supposed to be out past 7,” you explain easily. “Your family goes to Franklin Baptist right?” You nod.

“Damn got yourself a religious girl, Eddie?” The blond snickers to himself. You glance up at Eddie before looking back at him. Jeff speaks before you can, “The asshole is Gareth, that’s Kevin.” He points to them respectively. “Nice to meet you, and no. I’m uh, actually atheist. Just… raised Christian.” You hold your hands together in front of you.

“Hey,” a guy pops his head in from a door heading out to the bar, “on in five.” He dips out before anyone replies. “Well,” Eddie turns to you and takes your hand holding it up to his lips, “how about you go out there and sit by the bar? Get some water or something, watch us play.” His lips press a soft kiss to your knuckles making you blush, “ok.”

You sit on one of the stools by the bar, a glass of water in hand as the announcer introduces the next band. “And up next to the stage is Corroded Coffin!” A couple people yell out, raising their glasses up in the air, but not too many.

Then they all step out, the cute guy you know so well with his guitar on his front, stepping up to the front mic with such grace. “How are we all doing tonight?” His voice booms through the room and a few people again holler out, “We are Corroded Coffin, and to start the night off good, Id like to dedicate this first song to the lovely girl in the Metallica shirt by the bar. Lookin’ good, Angel!” He gestures to Jeff who immediately starts his rhythm on the guitar, Gareth following soon after on drums.

Oh my.

“Mmm, yeah!” Eddie jumps in before letting them play a bit longer. Kevin joining in with his guitar.

No he’s not.

Then they all begin it. “Ha!” Eddie continues, and the guys follow with “Do do do dodo dodo do do, do do do dodo dodo!” They repeat it a couple times before Eddie jumps back in. “Tonight… I wanna give it all to you!”

Oh no he IS.

You feel your cheeks heat up, instantly closing your eyes as you try not to giggle. “In the daaarkness… there’s so much I want to do-o-o,” both Jeff and Gareth lean into their mics “And tonight,” all three of them sing before Eddie continues on his own, “I wanna lay it at your feet,” he points directly at you, stopping his own playing to continue with the next lyric, “‘cause, Girl, I was made for you, and girl, you were made for me!” Eddie can’t help his grin, watching you trying to not die from embarrassment in the corner, “Hit it!” He yells before all the guys jump in to continue the song.

“I was made for lovin’ you, Baby! You were made for loving me! And I can’t get enough of you, Baby! Can you get enough of me?”

You cover your face but peek out through your fingers as you watch them finish the rest of the song. You have to sit through the rest of the set, trying not to giggle to yourself after the choice of an opener.

When Eddie finally meets back up with you, nearly two hours later, you glare at him through your third glass of water, “I hate you.” Eddie chuckles before throwing his arm over your shoulders, kissing your forehead, “no you don’t. You love me.”

You take a deep breath, trying to make the redness in your face go away, still not over the first song of the show. “How long,” you look up at him, sitting your glass down on the counter, “have you had that planned?” “Uh,” Eddie looks over at the backstage door before turning back to you, “couple months.” His cheeks tint, obviously embarrassed by the admission. “Eds, I told you I wanted to come to the show three days ago,” you smile at him, “and I know damn well that’s not in your original set, I’ve seen the original set list, Eddie.” You can’t help the goofy grin that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“Might have convinced the guys the day you told me to knock out the original opener to fit the one we practiced for you…” he admits. You laugh, a solid hearty laugh, not a giggle, not a chuckle, a full on laugh. A snort finds its way in, catching you off guard. Eddie joins in immediately after it happens, covering his mouth as he tries not to do the same.

You both laugh for a good minute, just cackling to yourselves as you try to calm down. When you finally catch your breath, you speak up first, “Those poor boys, you just tortured them for the last couple of days.” He nods, his hand on your arm as he holds his stomach, “yeah, they hated me the last few days.”

You didn’t stick around too long, not wanting to test your luck with your parents and your empty bedroom. You both walk out of the bar, his arm over your shoulder, both of you giggling as you press your hand into his chest.

“(Y/n)?” A deep voice makes you freeze. Your heart stopping as you refuse to look up. “(Y/n)?” Eddie looks over at the speaker, a man who looks so similar to you, but he’s older, at least 10 years. “Can I help you?” Eddie asks, his hand gripping tighter on your shoulder. You look up and there he is.

It’s happening again.

“Yeah, you can let go of my little sister, creep.” Logan, your oldest brother, glares at Eddie, his eyes sharp and narrow. Eddie slowly lifts his hand from your shoulder, obviously just not wanting to anger the guy who’s nearly twice his size. You sigh, “Logan, he’s fine.” You place your arms over your chest, gripping your arms tightly. Logan looks at you then back at Eddie, “why are you with this guy? Who is he?” Logan steps closer, still on edge.

You take a deep breath. Here we go.

“His name is Eddie,” you tell him, looking up at him, “he’s not a creep, he’s my boyfriend, Logan.” Logan hesitates for a moment, “boyfriend? Since when did you get a boyfriend? Mom and dad know?” He scoffs when you stay silent, “take that as a no,” he looks at Eddie, glancing over his form, his clothes, hair. He’s judging him.

“So what do you do? Besides take my underaged sister to a bar.” You roll your eyes at his question. “His band plays here every week. We didn’t drink, I had a couple glasses of water, Logan.” You glare at him, getting pissed off. Logan hums in response, looking Eddie up and down, “glad you are actually dating a guy,” he speaks, “mom’s gonna be pissed he’s not from church though.”

You think for a moment, then raise a brow, “Why are you here?” Logan hesitates but you speak again before he can reply, “It’s a bar, Logan, if you thought I was drinking but I’m underaged, what am I supposed to think about you? A guy of thirty-three, past the legal drinking age? What is mom gonna think about that?”

You don’t know what got into you. Maybe it was the way your boyfriend was will to embarrass you in front of a decent crowd, maybe how he talked about you to his friends even though your relationship was supposed to be secret. Maybe it’s how he didn’t falter in front of his friends, kept staying near you and showing you love and affection. Maybe it was just… Eddie.

You glance over at the brunette standing next to you, noticing how his eyes never leave your brother, nervous. Sweet Eddie. “Go tell mom.” You suddenly say, Logan looks at you a little shocked. “She was gonna have to find out eventually, at least now I can tell her that her perfect oldest son drinks. She might actually worry about you more than me.”

“Hmm,” Logan hums before continuing to make his way towards the door, stopping right next to you, “you go down, I go down too? I’ll hold you to that.” He makes his way into the bar.

You both drive back to your street with no further problems. Eddie parks his van a street down, turning off the headlights to not get any attention drawn to you both.

“So…” Eddie mumbles out, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, “That was interesting.” You scoff lightly, leaning your head back on the headrest. “I swear, if he rats me out, he’s done for.” Your voice sounds more joking than anything, but you aren’t. “Mom hates alcohol that much?” He chuckles a bit, leaning back against his own seat and looking over at you, a small smile on his lips. “Oh completely. My parents are Baptist, Eds, alcohol is a sin to them, they refuse to even have it in the house.” “Didn’t Jesus like… turn water into wine?” You shrug, “who knows why, I’ve questioned that my entire life.”

“Logan is the oldest, right?” You nod, “yep, fifteen years older than me,” you look over and smile at him. “You mentioned once you didn’t know your brothers that well growing up,” Eddie reaches over and grabs your hand. You take a deep sigh, “yeah, since I was born when Logan was fifteen, Noah, my other brother,” you give his hand a squeeze, “the middle kid, was ten. I was an accident, not planned.”

He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, listening to you. “You know how Christians are, against abortion and all. I was closest to Noah growing up, but even that felt more like a babysitter, not a brother. Logan acts like my brother now that I’m older, but when we were kids, he was just…” you stop, raising his hand up to your lips, placing a soft kiss on his fingers. Eddie moves his hand, letting it cup around your face.

“Angel,” Eddie calls out to you, making you look at him, “It’s gonna be ok.” He gives you a soft smile, which you return. “I love you.” The words slip out of your lips naturally, little butterflies in your stomach.

You don’t know why. You’ve said those words to each other hundreds of time already, but for some reason it feels… different. It’s not just a quick phrase, a sentimental thing you say to make you and him feel good. You mean it. With all of your heart. You love him.

Eddie’s smile grows a bit bigger, “I love you.” His beautiful chocolate brown eyes gaze at you with such love you feel it. You know he means it with everything he has. You could stare at those eyes all day, hopefully one day you can.

In the morning, you sit with your family at breakfast. Your mother plates everyone food, which you help her set the table. “Oh, darling, set up a fourth setting,” your mother instructs you, “Logan is going to be here any minute.” “What?” You turn quickly to her, a tinge of discomfort in your stomach. “Logan. He’s going to be joining-“ The door bell rings.

Oh shit.

“I’ve got it!” Your father gets up and goes to answer the door, “Logan, good to see you, son!” Your oldest brother steps inside the house, hugging your father. “Hey, Pops,” Logan departs from the front door, entering the dinning space, where you stand and your mother brings out some plates and sits them down on the table. “Logan!” Your mother smiles, quickly pulling her oldest child into a hug.

“Hey, Momma, thanks for having me such short notice,” he smiles, parting from her before turning to you, “Hey, (y/n).” He holds out his arms, and you hesitate before hugging him. You don’t want to tip off your mom.

After everyone has a plate at their seat and the table is decorated in platters of pancakes, eggs, grits, and so much more, Momma really went all out, you all take your seats. “So, Logan dear,” your mom smiles at her pride and joy of a child, “we heard about Susan from Cindy at church. Why didn’t you tell us?” You look between your mother and brother, a little confused.

You know Susan, that’s Logan’s wife. You met her a couple times, a little grossed out because she is 23, closer to your age than to Logan’s. You know Cindy to be a gossip at church, her spreading the ‘rumor’— as your mother referred to it—of you kissing Sarah all those years ago.

“What happened with Susan?” You ask, making your mother to turn to you. “She was found sneaking around with Gabriel a couple months ago, apparently the affair has been going on for a year. Your brother here,” she points to Logan, “requested an annulment for the marriage with the state and church because of the adultery.” You can tell from her raising voice she’s furious about the whole affair.

“It was approved last week.” Logan informs you all, “She signed the papers only a couple days ago, no arguments made. I’m letting her keep the house, so I’m gonna get an apartment close by, so thought I’d come visit for a couple days while looking.” Your mother practically gasps with glee at the news, “So you’re gonna be closer to home? How wonderful!”

That’s the last thing you need, another set of eyes out in public watching out for you.

“Isn’t… divorce a sin…?” You ask, not trying to incriminate your brother, not at all, just genuinely confused as to why your mother would allow it, or even be happy about it. “Technically,” your father speaks, your mother finishing for him, “But only without proper cause. That whores affair is proper enough.” You nearly chock on your juice as your mother’s phrasing.

“Momma!” You yell at her, staring at her utterly shocked, “You can’t just-“ “Why not? She cheated on my baby with someone inside the church!” Your father just nods along. You look over at Logan, he’s nearly just as shocked as you are.

“You shouldn’t call her that, Momma,” Logan takes a sip from his coffee, recovering from the display, “She was still my wife.” Your mother looks a little hurt from his intervention, sagging back into her chair as if she’s a toddler being told they have to eat their veggies.

“Your mother is allowed to be upset, Logan,” your father speaks out, looking up at your brother, “just like (y/n) can speak her mind, and you can speak yours.”

Such bullshit. Your opinions never mattered growing up, do they suddenly now because you’re older?

“I need to head out to school,” you explain, standing up and taking your plate. You clean off the dish in the sink, before walking by the table again, hugging your mother and kissing your father’s cheek. “I’ll see you later today.”

The next few days are uneventful, just back and forth with school, your mother bickering you about your future, and your perfect brother hogging the bathroom. Until Saturday.

You sit in your room, changing out of your day clothes and grabbing the nightgown from the basket of clean clothes. The warm air from the weather comes in through your open window, perfectly creating that warmer atmosphere.

“I’d say keep it off.” You jump back from the sudden words spoken out, your eyes immediately darting to the window where your metal head dork of a boyfriend sits halfway in. “You scared me, Eddie��!” You whisper, “you shouldn’t be here, everyone is probably still awake.” He just shrugs at your warning.

“So who’s the car outside? It’s not your dad’s and your mom doesn’t have one herself,” he asks, moving in closer to you, pulling your nightgown from your hands and pulling you to him, your bare chest pressing to his t-shirt. “It’s Logan’s, you dingbat. And if he sees you here he might not be so keen on keeping you a secret.”

“Eh, I’ll be out before anyone notices. Though I should really teach you a thing of two about actual creeps,” he kisses your cheek, his hands pressing to your back, “maybe then you’ll learn to shut your window when you’re changing.” You roll your eyes, “you’re a jerk, Munson.” He chuckles, pushing you back onto your bed, immediately pushing at your knees to frame your legs around his waist, laying into you. “A jerk? Me?” He kisses you softly before traveling little kisses down your neck, “A tease maybe, but never a jerk, Angel.”

Your breathing gets heavy as he moves down your chest, cupping one breast in his hand before taking the other into his mouth. “Eds,” you blush, gripping at his shoulders as his cold fingers graze over your nipple. “Hmm?” “My…” you can’t help but feel your panties start getting wet, “my brother is home, and my family is still awake- mm!” You bite your lower lip, muffling the soft moan that leaves you when his teeth bite down on your hard bud.

“You can be quiet,” Eddie smirks, pulling away from your torso, “Don’t you wanna be a good girl? Be quiet for me?” You hate how he knows that shit works.

He pushes your throw pillows off your bed, pulling back the covers. “Don’t be too loud or we’ll be found, ok?” He goes lower under the sheets, right where you want him, pulling your underwear down your legs. You cover your mouth as you feel his tongue glide across your core, his fingers brushing your folds out of the way. Two digits break your entrance, making you whimper as you grab his long curls with your free hand. “E-Eds…!” You try to be quiet, your body reacting quickly to his actions.

“Go on, let it out, Angel.” His approval sends you over the edge way too soon, your thighs squeezing his head as you finish, gasping for air. Eddie leaves little kitten licks before pulling away from you. “I’m proud of you,” he leans up and kisses your neck, the smell of you very prominent on his lips. “Oh?” You lean into his kisses, just letting him do as he pleases, “why is that?”

“You may have mentioned how people are home or they’re awake, but you haven’t looked at that door once, Angel.” He smiles down at you. And he’s right, you haven’t.

Sure you’ve mentioned worry, but there is no real fear this time. Your body is completely reacting only to Eddie, sweet Eddie. Your Eddie.

“I haven’t have I?” You smile back at him, not even looking now, even though it’s been pointed out to you, “Maybe you’re a bad influence.” Eddie smiles, placing a quick kiss to your lips before stripping himself down bare, fisting himself a little once finished. “Don’t know what you think you’re doing with that without-“

Eddie digs into his jacket pocket before throwing it down and pulls out a condom, holding it up to your face. “I come prepared, my lady, no need to worry.” You hum in response, watching him rip open and roll on the condom. Once it’s on, he quickly holds at your thighs, taking no time to slowly push himself deep into you.

“Not gonna lie, Angel,” he sighs as his cock bottoms out, “I’ve been looking forward to ducking you into your white sheets for months.” You blush as he starts to move, a soft moan leaving you as his hips roll into yours. “Could fuck this pussy all day, like a fucking drug,” he kisses your cheek. You bite your lip trying to not moan, but each thrust presses that perfect spot as he knows your body just all too well.

“Eddie…” you whimper out his name, your ankles crossing behind his back. His thrusts stay slow, sensual, easing you into it as the knot already forms in your stomach. He’s gonna be the death of you one day.

He lays his head on your shoulder, tilting it downward so he can watch the place your bodies intersect, watching his cock thrust in and out of you achingly slow. “Eddie, please,” you mutter out a beg, wanting him to pick up speed, to just put you out of your misery, but he doesn’t. “Not yet, baby girl,” he kisses you once, twice, three time before staring down at you, “gonna fuck you nice a slow, watch you get sensitive before letting you finally cum.”

He does this for a good thirty minutes, making you get testy as you cling to him, wanting him to just fuck you harder. “Eddie, please.” He picks up the pace, thrusting his hips into you a little harder. You gasp, the feeling sending you so close to your climax you have to fully concentrate to not finish. “Eds..!” You grip at his shoulders.

“Go on, Baby, cum for me.” You do, harder than you’ve ever before. Your eyes water, thighs clenching around his hips as you let out the most erotic sounds. After that it only takes him a few more thrusts before he’s whimpering out an orgasm of his own, hiding his face in your hair.

You stay like that for a moment, just both catching your breath. After a few minutes he pulls away, tying the condom and dropping it in the trash can under your desk. He slips back on his boxers before climbing back onto the bed, it shifts under his weight. You turn over to him as he lays next to you, pulling the covers over you both.

“I really enjoyed that.” You speak first, pulling the pillow under your head closer. Eddie smiles at you, his body fully turned in your direction, laying on his side. His hand lifts and pushes a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear, “Yeah?” To which you nod. “I did do,” he follows up.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you hide your face into the pillow, feeling butterflies flutter around in your stomach. “Like, I really liked that,” you hope the tone expresses what you mean. You didn’t just like it, you loved it.

Eddie can’t stop the corners of his mouth from lifting, watching you hide your face, your ears turning red from your flush. He leans over and places a soft kiss against your hair. “I really liked that, too,” he emphasizes the same word and you groan as you curl into your blankets more, making him chuckle.

“Angel,” his hand presses against your bare back, his warm fingers running up and down your bare skin. It’s not sexual, just soft, comforting, like home. “I love you, so fucking much,” his voice falters a bit, immediately gravitating your attention. You snap your head up, seeing his eyes looking so soft, so loving. It makes you wanna cry.

But you don’t, taking in a shaky breath as you shift closer to him, pressing your head against his chest. “I love you, Eddie Munson. So much.” You nuzzle your face into his skin, your hands making their way around his torso, pushing him to lay on his back with you on top of him. “You make me so happy,” you mumble, leaving a couple kisses against his bare chest.

Then your door opens. The creaking of the hinges the first thing you hear before it’s followed with “Darling, do you have-“ your mother’s head pops into the doorframe, your whole world crashing as she makes direct eye contact with you.

The door bursts open, the knob banging into the wall loudly, making you jump. “Momma!” You yell out, pulling the blankets up your shoulders. She does say anything, which is somehow scarier. She just stomps farther in, gripping her fists around your powder blue comforter before yanking it back. Thankfully, Eddie sees this about to happen before you do, and grips tighter at the sheets underneath to keep you just covered.

“What in the hell is this!?” Your mother’s voice booms out, your eyes shutting tight as you flinch at her loud voice. “Momma-“ “No. Don’t ‘Momma’ me! I knew we were being too easy with you! Honey!” She walks back out, stomping her feet angrily, calling out to your father, as she makes her way down the stairs.

You both scurry out of the bed, your heart racing, “no no no no!” You quickly snatch your underwear off the floor slipping them on and following with your nightgown, Eddie doing the same with his jeans and tee. “This is so bad, this is really bad…!” You follow after her as quickly as possible, Eddie following after you.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, booking it into the dining room where your mother is already telling your father, “Momma, please, just listen-!” You feel your eyes watering, genuinely terrified as to what will happen next. “You’re… tramp of a daughter had a boy-” Eddie enters the room and your mother gestures to him aggressively, as if his presence fuels her anger more, “this boy in her room! I found them entangled together!” Your mother looks absolutely mortified.

“Please just let me explain!” You quickly cut in, looking at your father with those little doe eyes you know he can’t deny. Your father sighs, glancing at your mother then back at you then his gaze shifts to behind you, at Eddie. “Explain.” Your mother scoffs at him, “There’s nothing to explain! He’s ruined her! I can’t have another scandal with this family! Logan is already dealing with his divorce!” Your mother’s voice shakes with rage, you can feel her blood boiling from where you stand, “What will the church think?”

Your father sighs. “Sweetheart,” his eyes set on you, the same ones that used to calm you as a child, “Who is this boy?” You hesitate but straighten up your posture, glad to be given the chance. “Daddy,” you reach other to Eddie and grab his arm, pulling him forward, “This is Eddie, he’s my boyfriend.” Your mother lets out a cold laugh at this, but says nothing.

Your father takes a deep breath but before he can speak, a voice draw the attention of everyone in the room. “Oh, hey, Eddie? Good to see you again, man.”

Logan steps into the room, walking straight up to Eddie, taking his hand in his own and shaking it. “I didn’t know you were meeting everyone tonight.” He looks over at you, obviously a little confused.

“I-“ Eddie goes to speak, but your mom interrupts him. “I found him in your sister’s room, Logan. In her bed!” Logan tries not to show any drastic emotions to this news, but you catch his eye twitch. “Ah, yeah I can see where you’d consider that a problem,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“You know this boy, son?” Your father asks, pointing to Eddie, but his eyes fixed on your brother. “Yeah,” Logan speaks, looking at you one more time before shifting his gaze to your nervous boyfriend, “met him a while ago, he’s a good kid.” He pats Eddie’s shoulder. “Found out he was dating (y/n) not too long ago. They make a cute couple don’t they?” He smiles at you.

Your father looks Eddie over, “You believe in God, boy?” “Yes, sir.” Eddie speaks up decently fast, not taking any chances, but you know damn well his belief is questionable. Then the older man looks back at you, his eyes physically softening.

Your father’s always had a sweet spot for you, getting defensive when your mother would beat you for stupid things. You’re his ‘god’s blessing,’ probably the only person in this house to feel that way. And that’s what made you favor him over your mother.

“Does he treat you right? Doesn’t hit you or anything?” You smile at him, “No, sir, he’s kind and sweet. Treats me well.” You keep it simple and straight to the point. He looks back over at Eddie before continuing, “Do you love ‘em?” “Ha!” Your mother laughs, “love him? Honey, she doesn’t know-” “Yes.” You cut her off, your arms squeezing tighter on Eddie’s, “love him with all my heart, Daddy.”

Your father sighs. “If Logan thinks he’s good enough I don’t see why we should have a problem with him.” Your mother squeaks, flabbergasted by your father’s words, “because he was in her bed? This is a Christian household! I will not let a teen pregnancy tarnish this family!” “You use condoms?” The question was directed at Eddie this time, making you both flush red. “Y-Yes, sir.” “Then that’s that.” Your father stands, coming over and patting Eddie on the shoulder, “nice to meet you, Eddie,” before walking out of the room, your mother chasing after him.

You, Eddie, and Logan all stand there for a moment, a little shook after the very direct question. Logan speaks first, turning to you both. “You two are fucking stupid.” He speaks through his teeth, but he’s not angry, he’s trying not to laugh, “my God, really? At home? Come on.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “I better get something from that talk, cause Jesus save me, that was awful.” “I’ll get you a free drink at the Hideout,” Eddie follows quietly, which you just look at him. “Deal. After that shit show, I’ll fucking need it, but that’s just your payment,” Logan turns to you, “you owe me, kid. Jesus, now you know why I drink.”

Tag list:

@cagethemunson @spikeybatt @cherrycolas-things

@r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e

[manias-wordcount]

Hi I'm so sorry if you got similar requests and this is weirdly specific but can you write some nice heavy sebastian fluff and smut but make it like set in modern times and not at the phantomhive manor cuz I'm really more interested in seeing his demon self outside the contract rather than his butler self this is embarrassing but I'm really in need of some demon 🌽 right now lmaoo also with a fem!reader only if you're comfortable hope you have an amazing day love your writing! 🖤

Rules (Sebastian Michaelis x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗹𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛. 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 "𝗼𝗸𝗮𝘆, 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘆 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗮𝘂, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗶-" 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗲𝘀 "𝗢𝗞𝗔𝗬 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗙 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗙 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗚𝗘 𝗔𝗨 𝗕𝗨𝗧 𝗛𝗘'𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗔 𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗘𝗧𝗬 𝗧𝗬𝗣𝗘 𝗙𝗥𝗔𝗧. 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗜𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧" 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗺. 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻, 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗺𝘆 𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. 𝗦𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗜𝗧𝗦 𝗦𝗢 𝗠𝗨𝗖𝗛 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗛𝗔

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚!! 𝗦𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

All your life, you’ve known about rules. Social norms, moral codes- all types of rules. Some made sense. Some didn’t. Though with your upbringing, you found that the rules tended to apply to everyone else besides you. But you knew about them all the same.

  But if you had to say that it all started somewhere, you would have to say that it began with a tradition started by your great-great-grandfather when he was first starting university. 

  And then he passed it on to his son, your great-grandfather. Then, of course, it made its way to your grandfather. And naturally, your father as well once he was of age. Though by the time you were of age, things were a bit different. People could tell that it wouldn’t be a good fit for you. That it wasn’t exactly your crowd. A tradition you were meant to carry on. And that made you glad. You were more than happy to be passed over for something like this. Besides, your older brother was always a better fit for your great-great-grandfather’s prestigious fraternity. 

  Still, that doesn’t stop you from calling it the secret society that you know it to be. Even if their name is known and their house address is public, there was still so much left to the imagination. Just like it never stopped you from going to the university where it all started. A place with your last name plastered all over buildings and dorms and historical signs all around. No, it’s not something you desired to advertise. Not something you desired to have the world know about you either. But no matter how many times you try to keep quiet, there’s always something out there who recognizes your name and the family you come from. In the same way there always seems to be some frat brother- on the way to class or while you’re out with friends- to recognize you when you least expect it. To ruffle your hair and make a comment about your brother or to ask you how your classes have been going. And truth be told?

  It isn’t so bad.

  You’ve been a frat sweetheart- no, a frat princess- since birth. Being a member of the founding family and still living close to the school of origin made that more than easy. And so generations and generations of members have been spoiling you since you could remember. A different set of brothers to look up to year after year after year. And luckily for you, they were all real gentlemen. At least, they were as gentlemanly as college boys are capable of. As a little kid, you would show up to their outdoor parties and they’d also have little child-size snacks for you. And for the biggest and most prestigious awards, you won growing up? You could always count on a crowd of Economics and Business, and STEM and Communications (with a few stragglers in between) sitting in the back row, ready to get loud.

  Even now, you’re almost untouchable. No one is allowed to pick on you. No one is allowed to hurt you. Hell, you’re off-limits to date for the fear that someone might use you to get something that they wanted. And lord help the next person who makes you cry on this campus. Lord help them all. 

  It doesn’t change the whispers you hear about them. The discussions you see online. The rumors you watch get spread right before your eyes. In your mind, there’s not a lot of good associated with frats. There just isn’t. You’re not blind. And you like to think you aren’t biased either. With them, there are too many secrets to not hold concerns. Too many things your brother won’t show you. Too many things your father won’t tell you. And too many things your grandfather won’t let you hear no matter how sweetly you plead.

  But the despite this, you still somehow trust them. You trust your brother, and all his brothers and all the men before them too. Because you didn’t have to worry about scandals with them. You didn’t have to worry about fights in the front yard or a party gone wrong. No, because at every party you went to since starting college, you were there as your brother’s special guest. Treated with nothing but kindness and respect. Waited on hand and foot with a little extra annoyingly overprotectiveness in the mix. And every boy you ever met who took the same pledge as your father and his father before him and his father before that? They were nothing if not sweet to you. Especially…

  “Ah...Sebastian…”

  …him.

  “Mmm, not so loud love.” Sebastian purrs from right beside you. His body is so, so warm as it presses against yours. Your arms are circled around his shoulders and his hands have a tight grip on your hips. A cool breeze from a cracked window blowing against your bare skin now wouldn’t have cooled down the fire burning across your skin. But it would only serve its purpose to ground you every moment you spend with him. The roll of his hips. The whisper in your ear. It takes you away. It makes you forget who you are, who he is, and the fact that your big brother is supposed to be in the room down two doors down the hall. “You know I’m not supposed to have you here. You know I need you to be quiet for me when you come over here, right pet?” 

  Sometimes a little too much.

  At the call of such a familiar little title of endearment, you feel him pull out of your warm, wet walls only to slowly press back in and fill you up once more. Even though it’s predictable- even though it doesn’t catch you off guard, the tiniest of gasps still pour out of your mouth. It’s the only sound that exists between these four walls. He slowed his onslaught on your spent, spent cunt and has since demoted himself to a lazy, sideways fuck. Your moans have since stopped, but you just can’t stay silent. Not with his everlasting energy and his ability to keep just keep on fucking.

  Still, you find room in your focus to nod, earning you a more than a gracious pat on the thigh and a kiss to the nose. Sebastian is right- you’re growing far too loud. The walls are very thin, and this room is hardly spacious. A single bed pressed against a wall with another one on the other side. Desks and dressers and chairs and all sorts of personal items for each member who occupies the room liters the ground. But for now? The space belongs to Sebastian. As does your body. Your pleasure. And your mind.

  The scent of sex has claimed it as his ever since the moon began to rise. And your only job is to sit back and tell him how you like it. The same job you always had ever since the two of you started hooking up. He’ll take care of the rest. You know he will. He always does. 

  But now, he’s slowing down. He’s giving you your time to rest from the intense session he put you through today. And while your body appreciates the gesture after spending hours and hours being folded in half, fingered, fucked from behind, bent over, and so much more, you can’t help but grow a little bit sad. At this point, you don’t know how many minutes it’s been since the two of you started, but you both know that you’re running out of time until the sun rises. Because once it does, the two of you go back to where things were. To where things should be. He’ll just go back to being Sebastian Michaelis. You’ll go back to being just you.

  Because to the rest of this university, you’re just a girl with daddy’s money, a currently campus-famous brother, and long, long roots in this school. You’re a hard worker and just another student trying to keep up with assignments and your social life at the same time. People know your name because they know your brother’s and your father’s and a couple of the old men in your family too. People know your face because they’ve seen you show up on social media posts advertising alumni families and highlighting platinum-level donors. But that’s all that the outside world cares about. Because that’s all that the outside world sees.

  To the rest of this university, Sebastian is a resident pretty boy from overseas in the Business Management major. His impressive height and his handsome looks were enough to catch every at your small, selective university off when he first arrived on campus in the fall of last year. And the English accent he sports was more than enough to get everyone to deem him as both quality real estate and a fuck boy at the same time. Despite this, all those who you knew met him at the start of his and your brother’s freshmen year said he was charming and polite and all kinds of perfect mixed in there. So it wasn’t too surprising for you to hear that he was starting to become popular and that he was hanging in the same friend group as your brother.

  Just like it wasn’t surprising to see him in your living room one day as your brother introduces Sebastian to you as the newest member of your great-great-grandfather’s fraternity. 

  But that was a year before you arrived. And that was a year for him to learn all the rules and norms of the university and its traditions and its rules. That was a year for him to learn that he wasn’t allowed to touch you. That he wasn’t allowed to kiss or fuck or love you. Not while he still belongs to your great-great-grandfather’s pride and joy of a society. But it seemed he didn’t learn. He didn’t learn the rules. Or maybe he didn’t want to follow them. Whatever the answer may be, you found that you just didn’t care. You’re just glad he didn’t listen. You’re just glad he didn’t follow.

  Because if he did, then how else would you end up here, laying in his arms with your face pressed against his next and his cock stuffed up your pussy?

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Fade Into You

ResidentEvil4Remake!Leon Kennedy x FemScientist/Pathologist/!Reader

Resident Evil x The Last of Us crossover

A/N: Just a little idea I had lying around. The timelines are a bit jumbled up since the Last of Us and Resident Evil take place in different eras so I made this story takes place in modern time so bear with me here. I hope y'all like it and let me know what you think! 💜

Summary: Imagine being a scientist set with the task of finding a cure for everything that has happened, assigned to return the world to how it once was only to become an assignment for someone else, an agent named Leon S. Kennedy tasked with making sure you are transported safely to your destination.

Warnings: language, some potential suggestive content, blood and gore and violence.

Notes: angst, some comfort and fluff and Leon’s terrible dad jokes and some trauma sprinkled in there.

Time. Time is a strange thing. Nonphysical and always there, always changing, from beginning to end. At the same time, it comes in cycles, repetitions and patterns. A metaphysical figment of creation, a concept constructed and molded to the understanding of the human species. An entity bigger than ourselves, spanning across millions of galaxies, and yet can fit within the palm of our hands. What is time, other than of what we know of it. Often times you found yourself wondering the same thing.

You don't know how long it has been since the outbreak, since the virus that started to plague the earth was first heard on the news, since well..........everything. So much has happened since, you had trouble remembering a lot of it, or any of it for that matter.

You used to work for the CDC, you still do, or what’s left of it, before you were taken against your will................there's not much left of anything anymore. Back then, you were the leading scientist in the department of Cancer Prevention and Control. 'New and upcoming young scientist leads the fight against cancer', titled the articles that were written about you, some of them far too promising and others harshly criticizing and objectifying. You're pretty sure you still have those articles stashed away somewhere, the good, the bad, and the ugly. What for? You’re not sure. Motivation perhaps, if there was any still left in you.

You were the best at your field, nearing a breakthrough for finding the ultimate cure for cancer that targeted the cells at the earliest and even latest stage, diminishing the illness completely as if it had never even existed in the host. You had even been featured on the cover of Life Magazine and the Smithsonian magazine for your work, the photos taken of you wearing your lab coat and standing over your microscope or interacting with your team and your patients. Boy was your father proud, his little girl on the verge of revolutionizing the medical world, he almost always had a hard time believing it, still picturing the day he held you bundled in his arms when you were first born. You were still ever his little girl to him. You could still remember the look on his face, the way he beamed when he found out, buying a copy of both those magazines just to frame it up on the wall as if there wasn’t already enough pictures of you and your little sister throughout your years.

You almost accomplished your mission, almost. You were close, so close. And then the virus took over, the Plagas and then the Cordyceps brain infection. Cancer became the least of worries.

Since the epidemic, you tried to save as much of your family photos as you could. After all, they were the only things left as a reminder of the past, of how things were. It's been so long the pictures almost don't seem real, like something created out of the mind of a delusionist, taken from of the pages of a science fiction novel, an imitation of an alternate reality. Never in you right mind did you think all those flesh-eating zombie movies you snuck out to watch with your sister at the local theater as a teen would feel more true to life than the actual past, the history of the human race.

Every night before you went to sleep, you'd pull out the storage box from under your bed, the one containing your family's photo albums, flipping through each page and staring at the photos of your parents and little sister as a way of forcing your brain to remember them. You believed this was your way of keeping them in your memory, recollecting the moment behind when each photograph was taken as if they were pieces of a broken vase meant to hold all that was you, pieces that sliced at you whenever you tried to put them back together. Truth was, you were afraid, desperate to cling on to the echo of their existence. And so you looked at those photos in a ritualistic manner, each and every night before bed. Truth is, you were starting to forget their faces, their voices, and you knew it.

In the beginning there were many; scientists, doctors, or pathologists or whatever you wanna call them, working on the task that was given to you by the government, each and every one of them fighting for a life of their own and the lives of many. Now they were just names on the diplomas that hung in their offices, names printed under an achievement of the institution they attended, just pieces of paper left to gather dust and be forgotten. Sometimes you wondered if you were the only one left; in your state, your country, the world? Who knows. In the building you worked, there used to be seven, then there were six, then five, then four…………….now there was only you.

Time seems to be nonexistent to you. The clocks on your walls meant nothing, nothing more than some numbers and a bunch of little gears that turn the hands to display the hour. A symbol of endless nothingness. The white walls of the building you worked in were just a place that they happened to hang on. And god you hated those white walls. You’ve lost count of the days you spent locked up within them, with nothing to keep you company except for the lab rats and your own thoughts. It's a wonder you didn't lose your sanity. A time came when you’d question if you’d ever see another human again. It seems as if your prayers were answered.

You were currently sat on the makeshift bed of a small base hideout, staring ahead at the fabric of the military tent that blew slightly against the wind, the makeshift tent that you stayed in after you were rescued, if you would call it that. Being the only woman at a base full of military men had its own fears, and you'd almost rather be out with the infected than here. You don’t know what it’s like anymore, being free I mean, you only remember being held hostage, held in one place to work for the government only to be taken away to work for another before being taken again for your so-called expertise, like an almost endless cycle, as if you were some goods that needed to be traded off and transported from one destination to another until you could no longer be of use.

You couldn't remember much after you were taken by the cult in an attempt to bring back Umbrella Corp or whatever they wished to call themselves, the memory of it all was still as fuzzy as when you first arrived under their "management". Now what would you even call your current circumstance? A formal and civil hostage situation under the label of U.S. personnel? You were only being held for the time being before being sent back to the states to work for whatever was left of the government. And as much as you wanted to go back home, or what's left of it if we're being honest, you've only heard of how worse it has gotten since you left.

“Y/l/n.” One of the soldiers called for you as he opened the flap entrance to your tent, his form casting a shadow across the floor in front of you. “It’s time.”

You gave the soldier a quick nod, grabbing your backpack from the floor and the small pocket knife that you kept under your pillow, stuffing the folded blade in the back pocket of your jeans as you got up and walked out of your tent. You followed the soldier as he led you through the open area where other soldiers were gathered, some of them standing guard, some eating their meals and others standing around leisurely as they conversed with each other. You could feel their eyes on you, watching you tag behind the soldier that was in front of you as he led you to the bigger tent on the other side of the field, the tent where the officers and higher ups held their meetings to discuss important matters.

You heard some voices coming out from inside the tent, two to be exact, discussing something important apparently. It’s all they ever did around here. And as you stepped in after the soldier, you saw the colonel speaking to a man you had never seen before. Tall, blond hair, wearing civilian yet practical clothes with tactical gear over it, unlike everyone else here who donned the military uniforms. He's definitely not military-

“Sir-“ the soldier that led you spoke, alerting the colonel of your presence.

“Ah. There you are.” The colonel turned towards you with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling from his old age as he gestured you over to where he stood at the table that was stationed dead center of the larger tent. “Was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

You looked between the two men across from you in the tent once the soldier that was by you had left, allowing you a better view as you only watched with slight uncertainty before approaching the officer. The man whom you did not recognize had looked your way as well, his face not showing a single shift in emotion upon your arrival, but you had managed to notice the slight curious quirk of his brow at seeing you. Who the hell was he?

“Say hello to your assignment,” the colonel gestured towards you as he spoke to the blond man. God you hated being called that, assignment. “Dr. y/n y/l/n."

“Leon S. Kennedy.” The man outstretched his hand, to which you stared at with the blankest look possible.

"............Pleasure." You gave the man a short smile, completely disregarding his offer for a handshake before turning to the older officer and pulling him aside as if the young man wasn’t even present in the first place, watching from the side of your eye as he awkwardly pulled his hand back, a look of hidden puzzlement on his face. You didn't want to seem rude but this was not what you had signed up for, being alone for who knows how long with a man you absolutely did not know.

“Agent Kennedy here is to ensure that you are transported and arrived safely to your destination.” The colonel answered after seeing the silent but scrutinizing look on your face.

So an agent huh. He’s probably as stuck up as the rest of those shit heads you've had to come across. Agent or not, who's to say he isn't like the others.

“What does that have to do with me?"

"Well he's been hired as your bodyguard."

You tried your best not to laugh. "What, some washed up reject of the Backstreet Boys?” You lowered your voice, knowing damn well the agent a few feet away from you could hear everything.

Leon couldn’t help but cock his head back with a slight scoff, not sure if he should be offended by your insult or impressed by the creativity behind it.

“Agent Kennedy is the best in his field. And our job is to make sure you end up safe back in America. I’m afraid you’re much too valuable to be left to wander back on your own.”

You let out a small huff, crossing your arms over your chest with a stern look of contemplation as you eyed the ground beneath your feet before finally folding. He had a point there, it was dangerous out there. But who's to say you should trust him? You had trouble trusting anyone for that matter. "Do you trust the guy?" You looked up at the colonel, knowing better than to trust a man's word but who else was there. There wasn't really anyone here to protect you but yourself.

"Agent Kennedy is a good man, reliable, I assure you."

You don't know that. "............then I suppose I have no choice but to take your word then." You sighed, knowing there wasn't really a way out of this.

“Good. Go easy on him alright.” The colonel straightened up, placing his hand on the back of your shoulder as he led you back to where the other man stood.

"Agent Kennedy, I trust you'll keep Miss y/l/n here safe."

"Yes sir." Leon nodded his head, attempting to send you a kind smile as if to say you were in good hands but you only stared off into the distance, still unhappy with the decision made. As long as it meant you went back home. Home. Jesus. You don't even know what was awaiting you there.

"She can be quite stubborn at times but you'll get used to it." The older officer added with a chuckle to which you shot back with a quick glare.

"Well that's fine by me." Leon smiled. "I'm a patient man." If only he knew how much you were going to drive him up the wall.

"Well here is the location where she needs to be dropped off." The officer handed Leon a piece of paper. If you have any questions, you know who to call."

"Copy that."

"Can I have a handgun-"

"No." The colonel was quick to interrupt your question. "That won't be necessary."

"Fine." You mumble to yourself. "Guess I'll just use my butter knife then."

Leon quietly watched the interaction between the two of you, slowly getting a clue about the personality of who he was going to be spending the upcoming days with, and he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it. He too would have opted for the same response as the colonel since you didn't look like the type to have ever fired a gun, much less used any weapon at all. And what exactly did you mean by butter knife? Should he be worried?

"Well you'd better get going, you don't want to be traveling at night, not with what's out there."

"Yes sir." Leon nodded his head at the colonel before heading out of the tent.

You turned to follow the tall blond but were stopped by the officer who held his hand up. "Not just yet. I have something here for ya."

You watched as the colonel pulled out a large black case, clicking open the clasps before opening it to reveal a hunting rifle nestled safely inside.

"I thought you said I couldn't have a gun."

"No, I said you couldn't have a handgun."

The colonel stepped aside, allowing you room to take a step closer to examine the rifle better. Was that? You'd recognize that wooden stock anywhere.

"My dad's rifle. How?"

"Had someone retrieve it from your old place. I'm guessing you know how to use it, judging from the way you recognized it so quickly."

"I-Thank you....sir."

"Just make sure you get your ass back to the lab in one piece." The colonel pulled the rifle out from the case before handing it to you, along with a box of some ammo.

"Of course." You sent the colonel a short smile, putting the box of ammo into your backpack before taking the rifle from his hands, feeling the weight of the thing within your grasp, recognizing each scuff mark and scratch that lined the wooden body, the little signs of wear and tear caused by your own clumsiness, each of them reminding you of the times spent with your father at the range when he taught you how to use the thing. It even smelled of him, after all this time. If you weren’t in a public setting you would have curled up into a ball and cried, holding the rifle close to your frame as if it were the remnants of your father, the man who raised and protected you for the majority of your life. And in a way, it was.

"Stay safe out there kid."

“Sure thing.” You gave a nod, slinging the strap of the rifle over your shoulder as you pushed the memories and emotions away, heading over to the entrance of the tent until the colonel called out again.

“Hey kid.”

“Yeah?” You turned back to face the older gentleman. It wasn’t long, the time that you’ve known him, but he seemed to be the only one that looked out for you, the only one that stood up for you when the other soldiers harassed you and uttered vulgar things in your direction.

“Try not to get separated from Agent Kennedy.”

“Can’t promise that.” You turned back around, raising your hand to send him a wave goodbye before pushing aside the flap of the entrance and stepping out into the sunlight. Well, this is it. Another day, another journey.

You were met outside of the tent with Agent Kennedy, who seemed to have been waiting outside the whole time, hopefully not eavesdropping, not that there was anything important or personal said back there but you just didn’t like people listening in on your conversations.

Straightening up, Leon gave a quick glance over your form before eyeing the rifle on your back. That definitely was not there before. “Where the hell did you get that thing?"

Christ this man talks too damn much and you just met him.

Rolling your eyes, you ignored his question, or rather his whole presence as you headed towards the truck that was set out for you. As much as you didn't want to be rude, you were anxious to get the hell out of this place and return to a place that you at least knew.

“Never mind I guess.” Leon muttered to himself before trying to catch up with you ahead. Jesus you walked with purpose.

Opening up the passenger door of the truck, you threw your backpack and rifle in the backseat before seating yourself in the passenger seat, putting on your seatbelt as you watched Leon walk up to the truck, still a couple feet away.

“Can this dude be any slower?” You muttered under your breath with a roll of your eyes, propping your elbow up on the door window as you stared out of it.

“Someone’s eager to get out of here.” Leon chuckled at the way you had situated yourself so quickly along with the obvious impatient expression that sat on your face as he opened the driver door before getting in himself, putting the keys into the ignition to start the car.

“So uh..........” Leon adjusted the rear view mirror before placing a hand on the back of your seat as a way to back the car out of the parking spot while you only studied his movements from the corner of your eye before glancing out the widow again. Why did you have a gut feeling this guy wasn’t the best driver. “where to huh? My place or yours?” Leon cracked a smug grin, hoping to lighten the mood judging from the unease you must have felt to be left with a complete stranger but quickly changing his mind after seeing the absolute foul, confidence-shattering side-eye that you just threw him.

If this man doesn't shut up-

"Right-" Leon cleared his throat, his expression changing back to his usual resting one as he looked back ahead, changing the gear to reverse as he backed out of the parking spot. Not even a minute with you and he could already tell you were going to be a blast to be around. You were the complete opposite of Ashley. And as much as he preferred a quiet atmosphere, he'd rather take his chances with Ashley all over again.

Some silence had passed between the two of you once you hit the road and left the base behind, the only sounds being the humming of the car and the wind outside. The drive was scenic in a way, if it were not for the situation at hand. But watching the trees and landscape blur by through the car window almost reminded you of the drives you went on with your father and sister, transporting you back to the road trips where the three of you would listen to the radio while fighting over who's turn it was to play the next song.

You missed your father softly singing along to his music that you at one time used to be annoyed by, your sister and you referring to his taste in music as the "Ancient Ballads of Babylon". And oh how he used to get defensive over it, calling it the "good stuff unlike todays junk", though he was never able to hide back the smile from your little slanders. What you would do to listen to his music again, to be in his truck sitting in the passenger seat reading a book before crawling to the backseat to take a nap with your sister, her head resting on your lap while your rested yours against the window.

Due to how quiet you were, Leon couldn't help but to glance over in your direction to make sure you were still alive, noticing the way you had become lost in thought, your gaze seeming to reach miles away. His eyes traced down to the subtle movement of your hands, watching how your fingers toyed with the dainty beaded bracelet that sat at your right wrist. There were a couple white beads situated together, printed with small black letters that formed a word, or rather a name, but before he could have a chance at reading what it was, you had noticed him looking, causing you to swiftly pull the sleeve of your loose sweater over your wrist. The sudden movement from you had caused Leon to clear his throat as he snapped his head back to the road, as if embarrassed at being caught before clearing his throat. "So uh, are you some bigwig's daughter? The president had requested you specifically."

The president? There was still a president? Well shit.

"Look. I'm just trying to know what I'm dealing with here." Leon put his hand up in defense after the annoyed expression you gave him.

You shook your head lightly at his behavior, heaving out a released breath as you propped your arm up once more, resting your head against your hand and discretely wiping away the tear that was starting to fall down the corner of your eye.

"Doctor huh. What are you, UCLA grad? You strike me as a LA city kind of girl-"

"Harvard." You interrupted.

"So you do speak." Leon shot you a quick smirk, surprised at your sudden input before staring back at the road. "Thought it was just me but....looks like I struck a nerve here. Sooo......Harvard huh? You must be pretty brainy then, surviving a med school like that."

"............" Dear god please.

"You know, you look a little young to be a doctor."

Geez, if that isn't the first time you've heard that one. You wished the man would just shut up and focus on the road. You swore that if he somehow ended up sending the car off a cliff you were going to personally strangle the blond yourself. Actually, come to think of it, if he talked any more you just might take the wheel and drive off a cliff yourself.

"I take it you're not much of a talker." Leon commented on the way you so obviously tried to ignore him. Jesus, did he rub you the wrong way or what. Or was it just the Ivy League attitude? He had heard the talk amongst his old colleagues back at the station about the Ivy League folk that would sometimes come through the town. Overly-educated and stuck up, some of the officers would call them.....if you consider calling someone overly-educated an insult. Perhaps this was what they meant? Seems like you didn't want to even be associated within the same proximity as him.

Rolling your eyes, you twisted around in your seat to reach for your bag, pulling it onto your lap and opening up the zipper before digging into the contents inside.

Leon watched you with curiosity, opening his mouth to ask just what it was you were up to before seeing you pull out a pair of headphones and a portable CD player that looked like you stole right out of the 90s. Keeping the backpack on your lap, you slipped the headphones onto your head, pressing play on the device before pulling your feet up onto the seat and turning towards the window so that your back faced the man in the driver seat.

Leon couldn't help but to shake his head with a light chuckle, taking this as a sign to shut the hell up and let you be in your own little bubble. Maybe you’re just shy. Or maybe you just don’t like him. Or maybe you’ve been through a lot. Who knows.

You watched the trees once more, listening to the song that played through the speakers of your headphones, Fade Into You by Mazzy Star, letting the soft tunes soothe your nerves. And as much as you tried to force yourself to stay awake in order to stay alert for your own safety, you couldn’t help the drowsiness that took over you. The music playing through your headphones, the blur of the trees out the window, and the subtle vibration of the moving car only added to that effect. And slowly, you let yourself slip, your eyelids growing heavy as you finally shut your eyes.

The drive had felt like hours for Leon, but he didn't mind as much. In fact, this was sort of relaxing, just driving, listening to music he enjoyed as it played softly from the radio, the volume lowered as means to not disturb you. This mission was turning out to be less stressful than the others. Or maybe he shouldn't speak too soon.

The young agent would occasionally find himself glancing over in your direction, perhaps to make sure you were okay and weren't dead. He had a bad habit of making sure the people under his care were alive and well and not breathing their last breath….if you would call that a bad habit. As much as this man hides it behind his cold exterior, I am positive he is just as panicky as the rest of us.

Your lack of movement had started to worry the blond, seeing that you have stayed in that position for a couple hours now as he began to wonder just what the hell you could have been doing the whole time in order to stay in the same exact position. (He has his himbo moments.) But the slow shifting of your form had relieved the young man as he watched you turn over on your other side to now face him, getting a glimpse of your closed lids behind the strands of your loose hair that almost covered the look of calm on your face, hearing the small moan that came from your chest in your state of sleep as you shifted around while your brows furrowed together at the center in a look that he could only describe as discomfort from your curled up position on the passenger seat.

One thing he had noticed though, if he listened close enough, he could hear the slight and faint whistle of the air rushing through your nostrils each time you breathed, a sign that usually meant a deviated septum. He didn’t know why, but that tiny detail had somehow set his mind at ease…something so insignificant…so barely noticeable unless you really paid attention to it…almost as if it had made you more human. And the thought of it was comforting to him.

As he looked over your sleeping form, he couldn’t help but to take note of the details that made you: of your hair that looked as if it had not been brushed through, or the dark circles under your eyes, or the little bump on your nose at the bridge, or the faint signs of hyperpigmentation and small little acne scars that lined certain areas of your face, or the light dust of freckles on your nose that were barely visible unless you really took a closer look. Even down to your wardrobe, your oversized navy blue v-neck sweater and the white tee you wore underneath, and your loose-fitted jeans, and your worn in black doc martens. Leon did not know how to describe it, but there was something comforting about you, something that made him feel…at ease. And maybe…just maybe, this mission might not be as bad as he once thought.

Part 2?

[daryldixonfanfiction]

What you fight for! Pt.4- Claimed

Masterlist

Summary: On the road Daryl is forced to join a motorcycle gang in order to survive Whether he likes it or not.

Warnings: age gape, mentions/ attempt to SA, groping, creepy men, kidnaping, angst, possessive Daryl, protective Daryl, fluff and typical twd violence and gore.

WC: 8.9k

Daryl was so tired he didn't realize he had fallen asleep, sitting in the middle of the road with his head hanging in exhaustion. He had just lost the last person he cared for and the point to keep on felt lost. It was that same heavy feeling of defeat when the prison had fallen. His newfound family was gone, his brother and then Julia. He didn't care for walkers nor the world around him, nothing matters at this moment. He just wanted to deseper, ses to exist into nothing.

He wakes when seven men surround him.

Daryl glances as one of the men thread forward, he wasn't gonna get killed by some assholes after all.

“Well, lookit here.” The man spoke.

Daryl proceeded not to move, but when the man got too close Daryl clocks him in the face, aiming his crossbow at his head. The men surrounding him pointed their guns, but Daryl showed no indication of stepping down.

“Damn it, hold up!” The man on the ground ordered.

He looked to be in his mid fifties, rugged with untrimmed hair and beard, the man was the leader of the motorbike gang.

“I’m claiming the vest. I like them wings.” A man from behind spoke, but Daryl’s only focus was on the man in front of him.

“Hold up.” The leader ordered again, and laughed as he stood to his feat. “A bowman. I respect that.” He compliments. “See, a man with a rifle, he could have been some kind of photographer or soccer coach back in the day. But a bowman’s a bowman through and through. What you got there, 150-pound draw weight? I’ll be donkey-licked if that doesn't fire at least 300 feet per second. I’ve been looking for a weapon like that. Of course, I’d want one with a bit more ammo and minus the oblongata stains.”

The abnoxes man from behind spoke again, “Get yourself in some trouble, partner?” And this time Daryl did notice him but ignored him, narrowing his eyes at the leader before him.

The leader continued, “You pull that trigger, these boys are gonna drop you several times over. What you want?” No response, he continued. “Come on, fella, suicide is stupid.” Then he smiled and asked, “Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?......Name's Joe.” The leader offered.

Daryl knew how dangerous it was to be on your own and to be truthful he couldn't stomach the idea just after losing Julia. He knew they were bad right off the bat, but what he also knew was he would easily fit in with these types of men, because that was what he did hanging with his brother when he wasn't locked up or wherever the hell he was when he wasn't around. So he stands down, and so does Joe's men.

Daryl looks at Joe, “Daryl,” he offers his name in return and joins them. But only for the time being he tells himself.

The day went by fast, he hanged back, none of the men showed any interest in talking to him along the road, he wasn't much of a talker himself, he rather be left alone. The group reminded way too much of Merle and his life before everything was overrun, but he rather not think about that. He thought of her, of Julia, over and over again. Twisting everything that went down before losing her. Meaby If he had done something different or just been fast enuff, just maybe Julia would be here, walking by his side.

They set up camp in the wods to rest for the night.

The forest floor sadly reminded him of her, her soft snores, the little sounds she would make and how easily she found comfort in him; he had taken it for granted because he thought they would have more time. It felt like she would appear right there beside him, that yesterday was no more than a bad dream.

He didn't long for sleep to take him but neither did he want to be awake.

Daryl woke at dawn.

Unable to stand the way he was feeling, he went off to fend for himself, leaving the stuff he had scavenged on the road at camp.

It was good game for rabbits, he could tell by the tracks. Patiently waiting for the rabbit to come within shooting distance. He kneeled, steadily aiming, elining the crossbow to get the perfect shot. One steady breath and he fired. His bolt hit the target but so did someone else from behind. Daryl gets up and looks at the same man that had wanted to claim his west, holding a compound bow, giving him a smug smile.

“What the hell are you doing?” Daryl said angrily.

“Catch’n me some breakfast.”

Daryl walked towards the dead rabbit, “That’s mine.”

“My arrow’s the one that hit first. Cottontail belongs to me.” The man insisted as of fact. Daryl kneels, taking out the arrows of the rabbit and continued, “Been out here since before the sun came up.”

“You see, the rules of the hunt don’t mean jack out here. Now that rabbit you’re holding-,” Daryl tossed the man's arrow, he could care less about what he had to say, it was his and he could tell him nothing. “Is claimed, boy. Claim whether you like it or not. So I was you, I’d hand it over. Now, before you get to wishing you ain’t never even got out of bed this morning.” The man threatened.

Daryl walked up to him, closing their distance, caring himself with confident strides. He knew what this was but he could care less, he wanted simply to be done with the conversation, “It ain’t yours.” Daryl told him. But the man had sensed Daryl's sullen demeanor ever since he joined them, the man began, in knowing.

“You know, I’ll bet this bitch got you all messed up, hmm?” Daryl ignores the man's insinuation “Am I right?” The man said, smiling, Daryl gave him a glare and prosedes to walk past him.

“Got you walking around here like a dead man who just lost himself a piece of tail.” He taunts, and that got Daryl to stop in his tracks, angel wings facing the man. “Must have been a good’un. Tell me something. Was it one of the little’uns? ‘Cause they don’t last too long out here.”

Daryl had always struggled keeping his temper at bay, controlling it. He could feel that dark part of him slowly coming back, that part of his past he thought he had left behind sins finding his newfound family. But they were all gone. He had tried to control it, to refrain himself from giving the abnoxes man the satisfaction of getting a raise out of him. He tried to stay calm, and at some point it seemed easier. He had been more in control of himself - hiding his emotions from enemies and friends alike. But every word leaving the man's mouth made him feel pure, burning, animalistic rage. He didn't care about the repocations his actions would have. If he wanted to rile him up, he would show him exactly what happened to those who crossed the line. The urge to simply make the man shut his fucking mouth -to inflict pain. He could see himself doing it, enjoying it even.

If Julia knew what he was thinking, what he was about to do, she would surely fear for what his hands were capable of. But Julia wasn't here, so what did it matter?

Slowly Daryl reached for his knife, unholstering it, gripping the hilt as he had become completely clouded by rage. Every muscle in his body was tense with adrenaline pumping through his veins. Daryl charged towards the man, but in the same second Joe held him back before he could even attempt to stab him and calmly stepped between the two men, breaking up the fight that was about to unfold.

“Easy, fellas, easy. Let’s just put our weapons down. See if we can’t figure out what’s really the problem here, huh?” Joe spoke with calm.

Daryl held a cold unforgiving gaze upon the man that only could be described as a death glare. The man kept smiling that shit-eting grin, his reaction had clearly satisfied him as if this was all a game. But this was no game for Daryl, If Joe hadn't stepped in the moment he did, he would be a dead man right now.

The altercation that morning had him a lot to think about. There were rules so things wouldn't get so tense within the group. As Joe had put it, "Going it alone, that ain't an option nowadays. Still it is survival of the fittest. That's a paradox right there." When the members wanted to mark something as their own they said the word "Claimed." And Daryl had denied to claim anything, he thought the whole thing was stupid as he believed there were no rules no more, he had his own code of course that he followed like the law itself.

The day continued, Joe and Daryl walked along one another along a raile road with the grope infront of them. Daryl thought the leader was alright by him, it didn't mean he liked him, he could stand him and hold a conversation, though Joe was the one who mostly did the talking as Daryl was a man of few words. Their conversation shifted focus to Daryl when Joe asked,

“So what’s the plan, Daryl?

“How so?” Daryl asked in return.

“You're with us now, but you ain’t soon?”

“Yep.” Daryl confirmed looking at the ground as they walked. Joe continued trying to get a concrete answer out of him, “So what’s the plan?”

To be truthful, Daryl didn't have a solid plan yet, but now when Joe asked him he found his first thought was of Julia. He didn't know what had happened to her other than being kidnaped. He didn't know if she was dead or alive. But he had convinced himself that she was alive somewhere. Maybe her optimism had rubbed off, it wasn't like him to be hopeful, but it was what had kept him going so far. Daryl shrugged trying to find the right way to put it, without giving too much away.

“Just looking for the right place is all.”

“Oh, we ain’t good enough for you, huh?” Joe sarcastically remarked. Daryl scoffed thinking of his altercation this morning with Len, “Some of you ain’t exactly friendly.”

Joe smiled, “You ain’t so friendly yourself. You know you need a group out here.”

"Maybe I don’t.”

“No, you do.” Joe insisted. “You should be with us.”

A walker snarls ahead, the men in front take care of it and their pleasure of taking it down doesn't go unnoticed by Daryl. Joe continued, “People don’t got to be friendly. We don’t have to be nice. We don’t have to be brothers in arms. We just got to follow the rules. You claim. If you steal, you keel. I know that sounds a little funny, but nobody laughs when something goes missing. And you don’t lie. ‘Cause that’s a slippery slope indeed.”

"What happens if you break ‘em?” Daryl asked.

“Oh, you catch a beating’. The severity of which depends upon the offense and the general attitude of the day. But that doesn't happen much because when men like us follow rules and cooperate a little bit, well the world becomes ours.” Joe looks ahead to an auto parts garage aside the track and orders the grope, “Right there. It’s our abode for the evening.”

Everyone began to head towards the entrance but Daryl doesnt follow, he looked to Joe and said “Hey. There ain’t no us.” Joe turned and faced him, “You leaving right now?” Daryl doesn't answer. “No?” Joe questions him, “Then it sure seems like there’s an us.” Joe turns and heads towards the entrance, then turns again,

"Are you a cat person, Daryl?" His words made him freeze, and he looked up at Joe. "I am," Joe continued, "Loved 'em since I was three years old. Vicious creatures. Anyway, I'll tell you, and this is true. Ain't nothing sadder than an outdoor cat that thinks he's an indoor cat."

Daryl thought about that for a moment before he followed the others into the building.

Daryl knew what Joe was getting at. Daryl had always told himself he was better off alone, but deep down, he knew in his heart he wasn't. The more he twisted and turned the idea, if he decided to join these men maybe it was the right thing to do. And he was gonna find Julia, he was surely gonna spot a lead of her along the roads they seemed to stick by. Daryl was never gonna tell the others of his plan, he didn't trust them in that sense. The moment he finds a leed he's going to ditch them without hesitation.

The others had claimed the vehicles as their bed for the night and his reluctance to give in to this claim thing they had going. He still thought that keepers' find mentality was stupid and therefore left him no other choice than to simply lay down on the cold cement floor. But Daryl was too tired to care, he just wanted to be in his own thoughts for a while, chewing on one of his cinnamon sticks, calming the urge for another cigarette after he had smoked some with Joe earlier that day.

One of the men approached him. It was Len. Daryl could tell he was up to no good. Ever since he had run into these guys, Len had been set on making his life hell. Len began with an accusing tone, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Christ.”

Daryl glanced up at Len from where he laid on his back and sat up fully, his attention now on him.

“Give it here.” Len ordered, stepping into his personal space.

“You step back.” Daryl said warningly.

“My half was in the bag. Now it’s gone. Now ain’t nobody around here interested in no half damn cottontail except you.” Len points an accusing finger towards the now standing Daryl. “Ain’t that right?”

“You’re the only one still thinking about that crap.” Daryl groweld back.

Len stepped towards his stuff and demanded again, “Empty your bag.” Daryl takes his bag and steps back in the same motion, creating a distance between them, Daryl warns again more firmly this time, “I said step back.” Len gives him glare. Joe interferes like last time and snatches the bag to investigate Len’s accusation and questions, “Did you take his rabbit, Daryl? Just tell me the truth.”

Daryl could feel anxiety bloom in his chest, because he knew this could gow south, though he had done nothing of what he was accused of. Liyn was strictly forbidden, if Joe decided he was guilty or suspected him he would be punished by the group or as Joe had put it,’kach a beating. And that fact alone made him even more angry towards Len.

“I didn’t take nothing.” Daryl hissed in defense.

Joe emptied Daryl’s bag on the floor, revealing the other half of the rabbit was indeed there. Daryls head snapped to Len. He fucking new that muther fucker had planted it there when he whasen’t looking.

“You put that there, didn't you?” Daryl confronted Len angrily, stepping closer. “When I went out to take a piss! Didn’t you?!” Daryl pushed Len back enuff for him to stumble back a step. But Len keeps on his accusation pointing a finger into his chest, “You lied. You stole. We gonna teach this fool or what, Joe?” Len said through his teeth like venom.

Always the calm and composed leader he was in these situations, Joe calmed, “Whoa, whoa.” Stepping between them with his attention to Len who was the most railed up at the moment, “Now, Daryl says he didn’t take your half of the rabbit. So we got a little conundrum here. Either he’s lying, which is an actionable offense, or…” Joe smiled and laughed, “You didn’t plant it on him like some pussy, punk-ass, cheating, coward cop, did you? ‘Cause while that wouldn’t be specifically breaking the rules, it’d be disappointing.”

“It would.” Len nodded in agreement, “I didn't.” he insisted.

“Good.” Joe said with a nood. He looked at Daryl and breathed, “Well…” Joe throws a right hook in Len’s face making him descend to the ground.

“ …teach him a lesson, gent’s. He’s a lying sack of shit. I’m sick of it. Teach him all the way.” Joe commands and the men begin to kick and beat Len on the floor.

Lens grunts of agony filled the garage.

A part of him didn’t agree with Len getting punished or more how he was beaten by the others, the unfairness of it. But then he turned his back, the commotion behind him. Daryl was a man of survival and knew to play his cards right. Daryl blocked the relentless kicks and grunts from the commotion behind him, laying back just like he did before Len had interfered. Everything became background noise, blocking it all out like many times before. And when the men Dragged Len outside, closing the door behind them to continue whatever they were doing, everything was quiet again.

Daryl dreamt of Julia that night, a common theme since he'd lost her. He dreamt of holding her like he never dared to do, he wished he had. But he had always been too shy to act on his feelings. So he held her just a little tighter knowing when he woke, Julia would no longer be in his arms.

In the early morning the group heeded out. Daryl was shocked to discover they had beaten Len to death and left him in a ditch outside, impaled with his own arrow. For a moment he was taken aback. He had seen cruelty before the world became what it was but it never meant it didn't affect him. Len was an asshole but this didn't feel right.

Just as he was about to cover Len's body with a blanket, just like what he had done for Julia back at the golf club, he remembered what he had done, framing him. That this would have been him, lying in a ditch, with his bolt through his eye.

Whatever pity he had felt was gone and he went along with the others, hanging back with Joe who seemed to like talking to him and to be honest he didn't mind. It distracted him from the ace that only seemed to have grown each passing day.

Passing Joe’s white lightning between them as they conversed or mostly Joe conversating as Daryl preferred to listen, but Joe didn't seem to mind, he seemed like one who liked to talk. Daryl took a swing frome the homemade alcohol,

“I ain’t been lit at dawn since before everything fell apart.” Daryl confessed.

“Fell apart.” Joe ecod. “I never looked at it like that. Seems to me like things are finally starting to fall together. At least for guys like us. Living like this, surviving. We’ve been doing this from the start, right?”

And Daryl had. He had been living in this world before walkers roamed the earth. Fighting and surviving he had done as long as he could remember, it was the only thing he really knew. Back with his group they described it as the end of the world, as if the world had stopped and their lives had come to an end. But for him it had only just begun, he was free, more free then he had ever been before. Maybe he was made for how things are now, like Julia had said that night. He tried not to think about it too much, because if he was, Julia wasn't.

Upon a road, the forest now behind them, one of the men in front looked at the road sign, “Just a few more miles.” The man informed the group.

Daryl was the last to pass the sign. He looked to Joe beside him as he grew curious, “So is that where we’re headed?”

“So now you’re asking?” Joe questioned and Daryl confirmed. “That’s right.”

“We don’t like to stay in the same place, we like to be on the move. It keeps us from losing our edge. But that doesn't mean we don’t rest our legs once in a while. I think you will like it. Last time we found a neighborhood like this one we got lucky.”

Daryl thought that made sense. Before the prison they survived going from house to house, then went on the road when they had enuff to last them for a while before doing it all over again.

“Claimed.” Daryl said before the man in front could grab the wild strawberry plant. The man said nothing and continued along as Daryl picked up the plant by the road, then shoved the lone strawberry in his mouth, “What you mean by lucky?” Daryl asked Joe.

“That got your attention?” Joe said, amused.

"Yah."

Joe continued. “You should have been there. Got our hands on a little bunny, pure as snow I tell you. They are very hard to come by these days if you know what I mean? She gave a hell of a fight but you know how women are saying the opposite of what they want, and I know she wanted it, they all do. Shure wished she lasted longer, but you know how those little ones are?”

Daryl didn't say a word, he couldn't seem to find them. Because what was there to say when someone talked so freely of such horrific actions that made you physically ill?

An unsettling feeling settled in his gut. He knew then he needed to ditch these guys, sooner than he had planned but he had to play along for now.

It’s jarring, the ringing in her ears and the sharp pain coming from the back of her head. Her eyelids felt heavy as they slowly fluttered open to darkness. The ringing in her ears fade as the hum of an engine slowly wakes her oriented body. A seat belt was strapped over her chest, her body tilted towards the passenger's side window, eyes slowly found focus of the night through the window, watching trees speed by along the lone country road, clouds were wisebulle by the moon's soft light and she tried to remember why she would be in a car but it hurt. The last thing she remembered was the prison, but then a low voice, a voice of a man she hadn't taken notice of speaks, her whole body goes rigid to the stranger beside her.

“Worried you were never gonna wake up, you took quite a hit.”

The man was dressed in a clean police attire, fully equipped. It was out of place. Groomed and was clearly well taken care of with short kept hair, his receding hairline indicating he was in his late 30s. Julia looked at the man and spoke in a small timid voice.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta.”

“How did I end up here?"

The man looks at her, giving her a smile she finds difficult to read, but it makes her skin crawl and her heart pound. His focus returns back on the road ahead.

“Had a lead on some guns that were pretty far out. That’s when I spotted you, wiggling in the road.

And Julia says nothing, she just stares perplexed, trying to remember past the blanks she tries to fill, but it’s all so difficult.

“Can you remember your name?”

“Julia.”

The man echoes her name to himself, he looks at her, his gaze taking her in.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl.” He muses in an unsettling way making her avoid his lingering gaze.

But then…. She does remember something or more like someone.

Daryl

She remembers fighting a walker but then everything went black and now she's her. Clearly the hit to her head had been hard enough to affect her memory and she hoped it would all come back. Trying to process everything she looks down and blinks a couple of times before her gaze falls on the man once more and speaks more desperate this time, with the thought of Daryl in her mind.

“The man I was with, did you see him?”

The man glances at her, clenching the sterling weal enough for her to notice, but his expression does not change and he tells her without looking her way.

“You were alone.” Her stomach drops and her eyes grow wide. “If I didn’t save you when I did, you’d be dead right now.” Julia’s strong reaction goes unnoticed. “One was eyeing your thighs when I showed up. But I got there first.”

His hand travels along her thigh, feeling her over the fabric of her skirt, slowly revealing her skin underneath. She lets out a small noise of discomfort and freezes just like many times before, like when boys in school had touched her, or smacked her ass in the corridors. Freezing like a deer caught in headlights, she doesn't dare to move a muscle.

“Jacket that rotter up.” He said and Julia could hardly breath.

A sickening panic blooms in her chest that travels through her whole body. Recoiling from his touch in discomfort and disgust he only keeps on feeling her up with his fingers slowly traveling up her thigh. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to move away from the man's groping hands. And when he spoke once more she wanted to throw up, crawl out of her own skin, because his words were just as sickening as his hand on her skin, that was now dangerously close to the hem of her panties.

“It would be nice to have a pretty little thing like you. You're like a little girl. A pretty little girl. I bet your mother told you ‘don’t talk to strangers. But I’m no stranger. I’m Gorman. I wouldn't hurt you…mmmh…your skin is so nice and soft.”

Julia couldn't speak but she was screaming inside of herself for him to stop, to not be touched without consent like many before had dune. Julia's heart hammered in her ears, her breath rapid as she trembled in terror beneath his touch.

Often Julia struggled to tell the difference between good and bad people -but that look in his eyes and the unsettling way he touched her, ignites an instinct inside of herself, screaming she has to get out, she’s in danger, that this man wants to do something against her will. Her hand reached for her knife, but he of course had taken it. And she knew she could not kill him nor had the will to inflict pain to another person. She was nothing like Daryl, fearless and strong but that made her only think of him more and grew more desperate as she all but whispered.

“Please turn back, he must have made it.”

But Gorman turned angry and grounded out “As I said, you were alone! And I think you're safe here with me!”

Julia didn't know what to do, she felt so lost and scared without Daryl and she knew she had to do something. She begged again and again to stop the car, for him to turn back, to let her go. But he got so angry and aggressive towards her, making Julia turn to complete fight or flight when she for the first time acknowledged her arm was locked up in handcuffs in the car's door handle. Realizing this man had locked her up, to do what she did not dare to name, and that look in his eyes of evil and lust, Julia knew he was a sick, sick man who would and had done unspeakable things.

In an attempt to somehow stop the car she threw herself over the steering wheel, desperately fighting to take control. But he was so much stronger. The tiers made an awful squealing sound as Gorman fought against her. He looked away from the road to pull her free hand off the sterling weak but the next second everything stopped…

Daryl was hanging back as they reached their way to the rich neighborhood, big houses with overgrown yards that once had been neatly kept by the owners were now abandoned.

The plan was to slowly disappear as they began looting the area for supplies and he would be on his merry way to find Julia. But just as he was about to slip away something ahead caught his eye. And for a moment he thought he had miraculously. Somehow. Found her.

A black car with white a wight cross.

Daryl's stomach plummeted, his steps slowing down.

The others walked past the car and began to clear the first house on the block, not notesting their newfound companion lagging behind.

Slowly, Daryl approached the car, he had to know.

There were tire marks on the asphalt indicating something had gone wrong, something terribly wrong. The car had crashed into a tree, the front window was cracked and the hood was all buckled up by the impact. When he rounded the car to investigate the inside, he swore his heart stopped beating. His head was pounding and his body began to sweat. He felt so stiff, but at the same time like his legs were going to turn to jelly. He had felt this feeling before, back when he found Merle reanimated as a walker and when he thought Carol was dead.

The interior was smeared with gore and guts. Both front seats were bloodied, there were no bodies, just bits and pieces indicating there had been a walker feast, likely the same night he’d lost her.

Daryl picked up a knife that had fallen to the floorboard on the drivers side, not far from it lies the diary. With the last traces of Julia in his hand, Daryl knew enuff of what had happened.

A part of him accepted it, as all the evidence was there, but the other part of him was in denial.

Knees buckled beneath him, he couldn't feel the pain of the ground digging into his skin. He felt like throwing up, guilt pounding in his head, telling him over and over, another death was on his hands, his fault, only adding to that mental list of all the people he'd lost. It feelt so heavy he didn't know if he could stand up again. No tears were shed though his eyes were burning, it was like he couldn't cry.

Hollow and empty -he was nothing again. Because what was he when he couldn't protect the ones he was supposed to? He couldn't protect his blood, his family, his friends, his people…He couldn't even protect Julia.

All he wants is to see her again. Hear that sweet voice and tell her what his sorry ass really wanted to say. There were so many things he wished he had done differently now when he knew he had last her. He regretted the cruel way he had spoken when they got drunk, how he had been so ruff and cold towards her when all she had been was nothing but kind.

Julia was too good for this world and he was a maid for it.

Daryl could recall every moment they'd shared. He didn't realize he had become so attached to someone he had known for such a short period of time. But he had never met anyone like Julia before. Julia was the first girl who was genuinely nice to him, who so deeply cared for him. No questions asked and she was there. She never blamed him when he said cruel things, because she understood he never meant them. She was never uncomfortable to be close, embracing him, holding his hand, seeking comfort or to give him comfort, and it had all felt so good. It was like she could strip him bare with her eyes and truly see him for who he was, and that feeling, he had longed for his whole life.

Just when he began to believe in hope, even when he had lost her, he believed there was that little chance he could find her. Because that was what he did -he found people. But this was not what he had in mind.

Beneath all that hard exterior his heart aced teribully as Julia's soft voice rang in the back of his head.

"I’ll be gone someday…" "Stop…" "I will. You're gonna be the last man standing. You are. You're gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone Daryl dixon…"

If she only knew how much he missed her now.

"There are still good people Daryl…" "I don’t think the good ones survive…"

And Julia….was one of the good ones.

Daryl didn't know how to face what had just happened, finding the car the way he did. For selfish reasons he wanted to forget her -all of them. So he pretends he doesn't care, that he isn't broken once again.

Killing the cigarette against his skin, Daryl felt a sense of relief from the pain in his chest, but it lasted only for a moment. He had opted to venture to the other part of the neighborhood until he stumbled upon a few walkers in the mostly walker free eria, and it was strange as it was clear that there had been evidence there had been more just days ago. They were snarling, dragging their feet towards him from the garage door they had been banging on.

He could have easily just jogged off and they would have left him alone, but the anger inside of himself didn't let him. There was this satisfaction in his outlet when killing them, and it was a much needed relief, much like bak at the golf club.

The walker's body’s lies on the yard of the house, he scans the abandoned houses around him then looks to where the walkers had been trying to get in and heads towards the garage. Inside he realizes he's stumbled across a car, he removes the tarp of the truck and opens the hood finding the battery is missing, making him sigh in frustration slamming the hood shut. He shakes his head leaning against the hood, then notices a green refrigerator that seemed to be working. Stored batteries and containers labeled Sulf and Sid inside and Daryl knew he could get it back running again. Going back outside he finds one of the walkers carrying the key to the truck, the owner of the house was smart but not smart enough to get infected.

Going through the stuff inside he finds an All Purpose Charger and hooks it up to the truck battery. Estimating it would be fully charged in the early morning as the truck was in a fairly good condition like the battery itself. But the thing was he didn't know where he would go, did he even want to go now when he found a good truck that would take him wherever he pleased? Maby new Mexico? He had always dreamed of going there bak when he was a kid. But what was the point?

He couldn't find one.

The late afternoon sun glowed on him as he walked down yet another street until finding where the men had settled in one of the bigger houses. And why Daryl decided to join them inside, he didn't question, he just did, his body moving on its own.

The men gave him a look but didn't dare to say anything of his ruffed up appearances, it was obvious something had happened. They notest him, then went along with their business. They got the message to not ask, it was his business and it was clear this group did not not care for one another like his group had, the only thing they cared about was claiming and keeping to Joe's ‘self proclaimed rolls’.

Joe was held up defusing a quarrel in the living room and Daryl opted to one of the bedrooms upstairs, shutting the world out but his mind would not let him rest.

Daryl had lost many along the way; it was nothing new, it was inevitable. But this time was different. It hurt more, the pain was straight up unbearable. It didn't make sense why this time would be different, but it was, and there was no denying that.

Sinking into the comfort of the bed he reached for his back pocket and began to look through the diary, flipping through pages. There was an artistic streak the way she had written small poems and drawn sketches of animals, flowers and people from the prison he supposed. The writing was crooked, a little hard to read with the misspelling, but he didn't mind.

Soon the exhaustion of los had caught up to him, he fell asleep with the book over his heart with the map Marlene had given to him all the way back when she had begged him to take her, and he had promised to keep her safe. He had failed her too.

Daryl didn't know how much time had passed, the setting sun outside told him he had slept at least an hour. Comotion down stairs had escalated, something about one of the men lying and getting punished for it.

Joe telling him “his rules” was effective, putting them in line or whatever he had said seemed like bullshit. Sitting up with his legs off the bed, arms resting on his knees he could hear arguing and pleading from the man that was accused of lying.

“No, no, no please. Please, don’t. Please!"

A loud thud followed by a pained scream of the man down stairs filled the house as the others laughed in amusement. Daryl could have interfered if he wanted to, but he couldn't find it in himself to care, it wasn't his place to interfere nor his business.

“Oh, God!” The man groans in agony.

“You plan of finishing the job?” One of the men said. “Yeah. I’m getting an earache and I know he’s just gonna let his ass squeal.” Answered the other.

“After what he did, the man deserves to bleed.” The third man said.

“Y’all stay down there if you want.” The fourth man said and began to walk up the stairs to claim one of the two bedrooms left before the others could, still handling the man down stairs. The man searched the rooms until he settled for the one next door to him. The door must have been locked but eventually he heard it open and close.

Daryl opted to busy himself looking through the room knowing he wasn't gonna find sleep again. Engrossed in the impressive Metallica collection Daryl didn't pay much attention to the mens chatting frome down stairs, not hearing one of the men halloring.

“There’s a woman shaking up in here.”

Immediately it got the rest of the men's attention. Finding a newly washed shirt disappointed some, but Joe ordered them to be ready for anything in case the owner of the shirt would return and possibly cold return with others that could be a threat. The four men dispersed, Joe watched the front porch as the others gathered their guns to watch the sides from the inside of the house.

A thud from the other room caught Daryl's attention for just a second, but didn't think anything of it as no other sounds were made; he turned his attention back to some motorbike magazines. Flipping the third page there was another thud, it was distinct, more like a struggle. Strange. Then there was another voice, a faint, muffled, ‘No -coming from a woman.

There was clear sense something was not right, his gut told him so and it had never proved him wrong before. The instinctive feeling of something wrong was enough for Daryl to step out from his room to approach the door where the noise came from. Then he listened in just like he did when hunting, tilting his head he heard trashing coming from the bed inside, making him draw his knife by muscle memory, his hand was around the door knob, turning it, pushing the door open. And there was nothing that could have prepared Daryl for what was unfolding behind that door.

His world stopped.

In a span of mere seconds, Daryl went through three intense stages of emotions. From shock taking in what unfolded before him, Julia very much alive lies on the bed, with a man on top of her holding her down with one hand strangling her and the other hand groping her between her legs, as she does everything in her power to escape. Then came the realization. There was the smallest choking sound as her face was filled with such terror and fresh tears streaming down her face, making his eyes sting. Lastly, came the rage. His hand tightened around the hilt. Rage scratched at the back of his skull right at the base. Right where emotions turned to turmoil, he could feel himself giving in to that anger, that darkness. The man had almost exposed her under the skirt, her panties on soon to be ripped off. While one hand was pressing around her throat his other hand moved aggressively between her legs. The man had the most vile expression Daryl had ever witnessed, making his blood boil, vision turning red and he demands, his voice low and deadly.

“Get your fuckin hands off her.”

Julia tried to escape the man's hold, trashing beneath him with her feet, kicking and scratching fingernails in an attempt to free her throat. The lack of oxygen made her vision turn blurry, darkening round the edges, she could feel how her limbs weakened and her strength slowly leaving her.

Julia had hoped it was all just a bad dream. But there was so much pain, it hurt too much to just be a nightmare and she knew the horrifying truth…This was real. The idea to simply let it happen, to get it over with seemed like a better option at some point.

It would happen but it would be over, she told herself.

Just as Julia was about to give in to her fate, the pressure was gone and she could breathe. In and out. Fresh air filled her lungs as she gasped and coughed, fingers gently touching the sore skin on her neck. Julia struggled as she moved carefully to the center of the bed, vision returned though it was still a bit blurry she could make out the commotion on the floor in front of her. She saw the back of another man on top of the man that had attacked her just seconds ago. There was grunting, heavy breaths drawn along with the unmistakable sound of knuckles thudding against soft damaged flesh.

Julia stared wide eyed, her breaths heavy, she was no longer coughing but a hand remained on her throat. The man below the stranger didn't fight back nor move, the man had been beaten to death, a pole of blood expanding on the floor of crimson red. The stranger stood to his full height turning to her, but Julia didn't look at him, her eyes were fixed on the monster that had tried to force himself on her in the vulnerable state of sleep. As if she waited for his limp body to come back from the dead and do it all over again.

But that moment never came.

Daryl had been lost in his anger but the moment he remembered Julia was there, very much alive, he stopped. Daryl stands there watching her, she is disheveled, her beautiful curly hair is a mess, her cheeks raw and soaked in tears, and her eyes have blown wide. She was still in her skirt and camisole. She didn't notice he was standing there, and all he wanted was for her to look at him, to know he was here, that the man would no longer harm her.

“Julia.” No response, he tries again, “Julia, look at me.”

And slowly he can see her reacting to his voice, finally acknowledging his presence. Her eyes landed on his bloodied hand then the knife in his other. Their eyes met and all he saw was fear, fear of him. Panic bloomed in his chest, realizing Julia didn't recognise him, as if he was the same man as the one bleeding out on the floor. The thought of her being afraid of him was devastating, unbearable even.

Daryl didn't know the way his hair covered his eyes, the way the knife looked in his hand as the other was drenched in blood, all Julia could see was a monster. .

In Daryl's eyes Julia looked like a wounded fawn, and maybe that was what she was in that moment? And just in that way he said carefully.

“It’s me. It's just me.”

Desperately he tried again when she didn't respond, putting his knife away, his palms facing her, being as non threatening as he possibly could.

“You know me. Daryl. Remember?"

And Daryl could see the shift happening behind her fearful eyes to recognition. He didn't move, just simply stayed where he was, afraid he would only frighten her in her timid state.

Stiffly Julia crawled out of the bed, slowly but carefully standing to her feet. She felt so shaken from the way she had woken, in the most terrifying way possible. It was difficult to stand, even to draw in air. But hearing the voice she never thought she would hear again, and she had to know the man before her was him, she wiped the tears away, moving towards him.

Daryld watched her slowly approach him, and he had to strain himself not to grab her, pulling her into his arms, knowing he had to let her come to him.

Julia grabbed the fabrike of his shirt looking up where his eyes would be, covered by dark strands of hair that had fallen to a mess. When Daryl looked down, his dark pools of blue met hers and Julia knew then it was him, it was real.

Julia reached for him, both hands now grabbing at his shirt, face buried into his warm chest, his beating heart thumping under his skin.

Julia inhaled shakelly…And said.

“Daryl.”

It was fragile the way she said it and immediately relief washed over him. Finally Daryl dared to touch her, holding her close with both of his big arms swallowing her smaller form. She smelled of her natural scent, with a hint of shampoo and all the sweet things that reminded him of her. All of her was soft, welcoming and full of life, just how he remembered her, and he said softly in return.

“That’s right.” he breathed out, cradling the back of her head with a hand, “It’s me. It's just me.”

But their reunion was cut short by the men down stairs growing impatient with his absence, and the man he’s just beaten to death. The evidence on the floor and the blood on his knuckles.

Daryl knew the moment they realized what he had done, they would surely kill him, ‘teach him all the way’, like they did Len. The chilling feeling of knowing, knowing and knowing what these men had done, what they could do, knowing Julia would suffer a horrific fate she almost did just moments ago settled a sense of horror in him.

But nothing was going to happen to her, he was going to make sure of it.

Julia dried her tears once more as Daryl grabbed her pack and gray cardigan that had been thrown to the floor, then approached her feeling a sense of urgency and panic even though he stayed calm for the sake of her.

“This all your stuff?”

Julia could only nod as she put on the cardigan and Daryl noticed it was more in a need to cover herself up after being exposed in such a way she had been.

The relief she had felt dissipated the moment she recognised voices of men, coming from down stairs growing lowder and impatient.

“I thought Dan and Daryl got that.” one man said, then the other, “What the hell are they doing up there?”

Daryl listens closely to every word shared below, with his eyes never leaving her, as if she would be goon if he did.

“Get them the hell up.” Joe ordered urgently.

Julia froze in fear as Daryl turned serious in contrast to her, hugging her pack in a death grip to keep her shaking hands at bay. Julia could feel herself becoming smaller, as if she couldn't follow along with what was happening.

The gears were turning behind his eyes, then Daryl nodded to himself, a decision had been made. And he said while keeping his voice down, yet firm.

“Hey, you see that clawset?”

Julia acknowledged it across the room, but no verbal response was made. It was difficult to register when dissociation began to wash over, preventing words from forming. But she forced it down when she could feel his hands grabbing her shoulders, groundingly, pulling her both figuratively and physically back to reality.

“You’re gonna stay in there, and you don’t come out until I say, okay?”

And Julia could not say anything in return, as if she was mute. But when she heard footsteps heading upstairs she could feel that twisting feeling in her gut she had felt in the car, finding herself spacing out once more, no longer looking up at him.

“Dan, Daryl, get your asses down here!” The man heading upstairs said, but of course got no answer in return. “Yo, you hear me?!”

“They’re not gonna come anywhere near you.” Daryl firmly told her, shaking her by her shoulders, “Look at me.” It was an order, an order that demanded attention. “They're ain’t gonna come anywhere near you. All you gotta do is stay put, stay quiet and don't come out until I say. Can you do that for me?

Julia stairs and stairs, pleading with her eyes for something -she didn’t know. It was about seconds before the man would enter and time was running out, she knew. But Julia didn't want to be without him, to be separated. But at the same time she knew it was something she had to do.

Even though she was scared, scared out of her mind she reletend. To do what he had asked of her. Julia trusted him with her life. Before she moved, to hide, Daryl’s hand cradled her face affectionately, as if he needed to touch her, to remind himself she was indeed there, what was at stake. His thumb moved, caressing her cheek gently as he provided, softly.

“Good girl."

If the situation had been different, Julia was sure she would have smiled in return.

Never had Julia seen the look Daryl had in his eyes as he had now. It was worrying, it went beyond protecting her, and it looked like he was -well like he was about to do something very terrible, and she knew there was nothing that could be done to stop it.

His touch didn't last long as he urged her to hide. When she was consumed by darkness in the safe space of the closet, Julia wished she had said something more than simply his name.

There was now way of telling how much time had passed.

The screams and the fight from down stairs had stopped and Julia wasn't sure she wanted to know what Daryl was doing, what he had done. Knowing Daryl could beat a man to death with his bare hands, Julia knew that was probably what had happened and it made her feel -well, she didn't really know.

The house was completely silent, it was unsettling in a way, not knowing if Daryl was alright, or hurt. Even though she had been told to stay put, she couldn't. The silence was too unnerving, making her leave the safe space of the closet, stepping out into the bedroom, cracking the door open, Daryl had closed when leaving.

“Daryl.” Julia called out, “Daryl, are you alright?”

Then there was movement down stairs, sounding as if something heavy was being dragged across the floor.

"Stay! Don’t come down here!”

His order made her flinch, he wasn't angry but it was clear he didn't want her coming down. Julia assumed it had something to do with the unmistakable dragging on the floor. Doing as she was told once more she stayed put, and she couldn't help but stare at the dead man on the floor. She was still coming down from what had happened, welding herself to get it together. Crying was not gonna make it better and she was no child, she was a grown woman, it was time she acted as such.

Drying the evidence of her face as she sits on the floor, Daryl emerges, wearing a different jacket and a red machete attached to his belt. And Julia couldn't help but stare as Dary was - well. Covered in blood.

Pt.5 Masterlist

[mellowseulogy]

SAUDADE

IN WHICH: You get isekaied into the world of Attack On Titan and although you're scared, they remind of all of the reasons why you loved them in the first place.

tags: black reader, fluff and angst, canon typical violence, isekai, found family, 'kinda' reverse harem, swearing,

AN: I originally posted this on Wattpad but I figured crossposting wouldn't be too bad! This is also inspired by the wonderful curlycho's 'Sucked In' on Wattpad and AO3!

1.

Your eyes blinked open and a heavy whiplash overcame you. Instinctively, you groped around your bed to try to stabilise yourself. But when you pulled the covers up to your nose, the sheet was thin, caked with dust, and smelled terrible. Through a brief coughing fit, you rubbed your gunk-crusted eyes clean and leaned forward.

This was not your bedroom.

"She's awake!" A voice cried out. You couldn't see where the person was so you assumed it was from a bit away from you.

On the back of your forearms, you pushed yourself onto your butt and like a tidal wave, the expanse of greenery swarmed you.

In front of you was a large oak tree scratched with a chunk that seemed to be... bitten off. Its bark stretched high into the sky - pretty leaves fanned out over you and through the small gaps in them, an auburn sky waning navy from the coming night. Underneath you was a bed of blue flowers hidden in thick grass. It almost reminded you of something you saw on the... Your mind went blank.

That didn't explain how you were here though...

"Helloo~." There were hands on your shoulders and you jerked back in sudden shock. Grabbing your sheets, you crawled away from your current resting point and backed yourself uselessly against the tree.

"Woah, you're fast...uh sorry to scare you, sorry! Just was happy to see you weren't ya know... dead is all." The girl who had scared you half to death had an extremely apologetic look on her face and she had her head bowed. By the looks of it, she seemed to be the same age as you but she was wearing a uniform of some kind. An emblem of swords on her blazer's chest.

In her remorseful spiral, a boy began to walk up behind her - there was a bowl in his hands. "Sasha, what did we say about sneaking up behind people? You don't just jump on someone when they've just come out of unconsciousness, she could've died of a heart attack."

He crouched beside her and stared at her, she stared back, then he switched the bowl into his left hand and flicked her square on the forehead. The girl (Sasha) recoiled backward in pain and rolled in the grass, clutching at her head. This whole moment could've been very funny to you emitting one little thing... you still had no clue where the hell you were.

Shoveling down your nerves, you pulled the sheet down from your knees and coughed to get the pair's attention. "W-where am I?" You tried to look assertive but you're sure that your voice gave you away.

There was a ninety-nine percent chance these thoroughly unserious people weren't kidnappers. So you weren't terrified but it still bothered you. However, there was still that one percent...you think you read a book about it once.

The boy with the bowl in his hands shuffled a little closer to you, you shuffled back wary of the steam that bellowed out of it. It smelled really nice though. "Hey, sorry about Sasha she's a bit there." Sasha mouthed another sorry. "My name is Jean and my squad found you on the edge of a cliff."

"Well actually, me and Eren did." Another boy had started to walk over with a towel and bundle of something in his hands - his hair was shaven. "Jeanboy was too much of a wuss to grab you."

"Shut up, Connie and let me finish." He ended with a frustrated grunt. Then, he looked up at you and smiled. "So, we brought you back to our camp so we can fix you up before we start our expedition back to the barracks."

He brought the bowl to your hands. "It's soup, regain your strength and then we can talk. Who knows how long you were out there for." He rummaged in his pockets and gave you a spoon. You just stared.

"Or, do you want me to...feed you?" Jean said.

"No, thanks." You took the spoon from his hands.

He nodded, understandingly but with the way the bald boy smirked maybe he wasn't as pleased.

Inside the bowl was a clutter of all kinds of vegetables, swirling around in a dark brown soup. It looked alright, but poisoning was still very much a possibility. These people didn't seem too hostile in any capacity, with the way they were goofing around a meagre fire. Swirling the contents of the meal in contemplation, you tried to hone in on what happened before all of this - when you tried...your mind drew blank.

Like an incomplete storyboard with no beginning or end, you were plastered in the middle of it all. Thinking hurt because there was nothing to think back to - you didn't like it.

But right now you were in the middle of nowhere and a horrific grumble started to settle in your stomach. Gingerly shoveling a spoonful of soup into your mouth, you were honestly surprised. It didn't taste half as bad as you thought it would. Wonder why. After finishing the remaining potatoes and carrots, you licked your lips with relish. You hadn't truly realised the full extent of your hunger.

"You tore that up." The boy with a shaved head said next to you - you hadn't even noticed he was there. He was the one holding all those herbs and towels. Staring for a moment he broke out into a snicker. "You can talk, you know. I'm not gonna eat you." That's when you noticed that you were staring again like an idiot.

He sat down on the grass next to you and placed his tools on a box. "Just here to fix you up, laying on a cliffside doesn't sound healthy." He dipped the towel into the bowl a damp towel and wrung it into the dirt. In the midst of all of this, you finally realise how quiet you've been, they probably think you're some poor abandoned teen.

"What's your name?" You asked.

He looked up from crushing down purplish liquid into some blue flowers. "Connie Springer. Yours?"

You thought hard, for something that should've been as easy as breathing, your mind wrapped into coils in trying to think.

"You look like you're about to take a shit." He smiled, "S'alright you're probably still a bit hazy, don't worry about it."

He finishes up with a small bowl of something orange and says, "Alright, gonna dab this on your face while it's still warm, let me know if it's okay."

First, he tried to push your hair behind your ears but a curl kept sticking out. It was kind of cute seeing his tenacity.

When he finally moved your hair out of the way, he patted the towel gently around your face. You didn't know if this had any sort of special remedy but it unwinded your very rigged mind. You let out a long deep breath and you let yourself relax into the touch, eyes flitting closed.

"Open your mouth for me." And you did it with minimal resistance. He tipped the contents of a metal cup into your mouth - you promptly wrinkled your eyebrows.

"Gross." You muttered, it was nasty. Ucky. Vile.

Connie chuckled, "I know, it's terrible, isn't it? But it's just a drinkable antiseptic. Not a permanent solution but will fight anything nasty."

"Hah! See I remember, Jean. Practical medicine's pretty easy when you're besties with Armin."

"Armin."

"Oh, you'll see him in a minute - he's like super smart."

Armin. You played with the name on your tongue whilst trying to shake off the nasty aftertaste of that medicine. It sounded familiar, you focused intently on your memories to try and piece something together...

...all you could remember was the pressure of drowning.

"Hey! When do the others get back? I don't think we have enough firewood to cook all of our dinners!" Sasha yelled.

Connie smirked, focused on patching up a deep cut on your forearm. "You sure you didn't eat all of it?"

"Nuh-uh, I've been focusing on my hunger on this expedition," Sasha said. "Besides, I think you'd all kill me if I did."

The sky was losing its evening haze and turning a deep blue.

"Well, they better hurry up." Jean said, lounging on a log.

A rustle in the bushes set you on edge, you figured it was the rest of their squad but you could never be too sure.

Pushing the leaves aside, a brown bear thudded on the forest floor. Before you could comprehend, you screamed, scrambling up onto your feet.

"Get behind the tree!" Connie whisper-yelled to you.

Jean, Sasha and Connie had quickly pulled out long swords from behind a severed tree. Coordinated at each other's sides, ready to attack.

Another rustle in the bushes and out came a pair of legs, stepping over the bear.

"Sorry for scaring you, guys." An extremely tall boy raised his hands in mock defeat.

Sasha gasped, "Bertolt?!" Her eyes flitted down to the bear. To which now she realised was very much dead.

Jean placed both his, Sasha and Connie's swords behind the stump and ushered you from behind the tree.

Bertolt and another person had carried the bear to the middle of the camp. She had long dark hair in a ponytail and looked strangely absent from the whole situation.

Two others followed from behind carrying firewood. But a headache had blossomed shortly after your adrenaline had simmered, so you sat down.

These other people seemed to be the rest of the squad Jean was talking about. It seemed like they had killed the bear for food.

Its dead, glassy eyes peering holes into your own. You ceased eye contact and settled on finding out who these new people were.

"Oh yeah, Eren, she woke up," Connie said nonchalantly whilst placing new firewood to rekindle its might. But to Eren, this seemed to be the most astonishing news ever.

Like you hadn't had enough, he rushed over to your resting place and took your hands in his own.

Almost immediately, pain bloomed in the back of your head. Your ears rang loudly and you tried to blink away a steady stream of tears wetting your cheeks. Your stomach turned.

"H-how are you feeling?" Eren asked, concerned. But it only came through muffled ears.

Oh.

"A-alright, just a bit of a headache."

There was an awkward pause when Eren was simply focused on scanning your face.

When the pain subsided, the world felt slightly clearer. Only slightly.

Armin came up from behind Eren. "Uh, Eren. I'm pretty sure she should rest." He nodded, moved back on his heels and stood up.

"Y-yeah, sorry. I'm just glad, that's all." He walked over to the campfire to help Connie fry some leftover meat.

Armin. Looked over to you and smiled, but you were too disgruntled to smile back.

The dark-haired girl was busy gutting the bear with Jean. But her gaze had flicked over to you with a note of blankness behind her eyes. You only looked back, stupefied

Mikasa.

.

Attack on Titan?

.

Oh god...

.

.

.

[atinyjules]

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER - MARK

Wassupp! So...I'm in the dreamies phase again😭 soo like...the Seonghwa angel request will take a while since I'm stuck in a writer's block for that one (╥﹏╥)

Anyways here's dad!mark~

pairings : dad!mark x Female oc (as his wife but doesn't appear in the story)

Genre: Dad au, fluff, established relationship.

Warnings: Barely any.

Characters : Mark and Geonu (6)

"Appa! Appa! Appa!" an overly excited Geonu pulled on his father's shirt while jumping like a bunny.

"I can hear you if you didn't already know. You're supposed to be asleep...what's wrong?" he asked his son who kept jumping causing a chuckle to leave his mouth.

"I can't sleep without a storyy!" he said making his father groan.

"Geonu, I'm busy...can't you sleep without a story?" Mark said making a large fit of whines to leave the little boy's lips.

"Nooo, eomma always tells me one before I go to bed!" he said causing his father to freeze at the mention of his wife.

He let out a sigh as he remembered the way you barged out of the house with tears on your face after a really bad fight. None of that was supposed to happen but it did and now you were in your sister's house and he knew you weren't returning anytime soon. Geonu had no clue as to what happened due to still being at school that time. Telling him you would be out of town for while-

"Please...eomma always tells me one." softening at the sight of his son's glossy big eyes that resembled yours.

"Alright...go wait for me in the bed, I'll be there in a sec." Mark said as Geonu excitedly waddled to his bedroom causing Mark to let out a chuckle.

"You ready?" Mark asked Geonu, sitting beside him on his bed.

"Yes!" Geonu exclaimed and laid his head on Mark's chest.

"Since I don't have any stories to tell you...I'll tell you how I met eomma." he said as Geonu nodded.

"I originally first met your eomma at a summer camp during middle school but it was at high school that I got to actually know her and let me tell you...she was gorgeous, the most beautiful person I ever laid eyes on...she still is, her beauty wasn't the only thing that intrigued me." Mark said as Geonu looked at Mark in confusion.

"It wasn't?" he asked as Mark shook his head and ran his fingers through Geonu's hair.

"Nope...you might not know this but your eomma has a black belt in karate, the undefeated champion of Korea for 5 years...she would always use her strength to defend the weak and punish the bullies." Mark said as he smiled, memories hitting him like a fresh breeze.

"That seems like a very eomma thing to do! I can't wait to tell Dasom and Dawon!" Geonu said referring to Jisung's twins who were coincidently their playmates and friends at school.

"Don't brag too much or else you'll regret it." Mark said with a chuckle.

"Eh? Appaa! Continue!" Geonu asked as Mark smiled.

"Alright, alright....so yeah...I got to know your eomma at high school since we had around four classes together. At first I found her a bit scary since she was so strong but as time went on I realised that the both of us had a lot of similarities.

Like our same love for watermelons and music. I also found out that she followed me on soundcloud which came as a shock to me since I only had like 8 followers so I was touched...so touched. And in no time we became besties. Hanging out on the weekends and helping out at her family dojo be came my favorite pass time especially since I get bored really easily." Mark said earning a nod of agreement from Geonu.

"I agree, appa your interest level is only 20 percent that's what me and eomma think." he said as Mark let out a laugh.

"Is that so huh?" Mark asked causing Geonu to nod.

"Appa, when did you ask eomma out?" Geonu asked as Mark chuckled at the memory.

"I asked her out right after she threw a punch to my stomach." Mark said with a sigh, still remembering your face after he confessed.

"Why did she punch you?" Geonu asked.

"Because I indirectly told her she was too intimidating and boyish without realising, so she got angry." he said making Geonu giggle.

"So you told her you loved her?" Mark nodded at that.

"Yep...she slapped me right after I confessed." Mark said rubbing his cheek and smiling sweetly.

"Appa...you love eomma don't you?" Geonu asked his dad who chuckled at the response.

"Of course I do! Why do you ask?"

"If you really love her then tell her you're sorry..." Geonu said making Mark widen his eyes.

"You always give off a guilty/sad vibe whenever you upset eomma and also...uncle Haechan told me." Geonu replied causing Mark to make a mental note to kick Haechan's ass tomorrow morning.

"I'm sorry...I know eomma is probably really really sad with me but I promise you that I'll apologize to her...even if it means to get a punch from her." Mark said earning him a hug from Geonu.

"I know..." Geonu said with a yawn as Mark lulled him to sleep and sat down on the floor beside the bed of your empty shared bedroom. He took out his phone and sent you a voice message.

"Hey...it's me..."

[lowkeyremi]

I found you (Yazukza Eren J x fem!reader)

Basically, you've been messing w his yakuza group anonymously, n he finally finds you (why did i think of the "me when i fucking get you" meme)

Content: Angst, eren's a bitch, suggestive, kidnapping, language, cocky-ish reader, a lil fluff, plot twist btwn u n eren

Oml this prob the darkest thing I've written

banner by: cafekitsune

It hurt to open your eyes, so here you are in this dark environment; more specifically a cold floor. There's a blindfold over your eyes, not that it matters because once again it hurts to open your eyes.

The smell of mold is so powerful that it's the only thing you take note of. Where the fuck are you? You aren't even sure how long you've been— where ever this is.

Creak, thump, thump, thump. That tiny voice was telling you to pick your head up because someone is coming, the louder voice was reminding you that you answer to no one so you will not pick your head up.

The blindfold was removed and you let out a groan. The light hitting your eyelids already feels bad enough, opening your eyes is going to be a pain in the ass.

"Open your eyes." A soft spoken voice commands. You do so out of curiosity, and boy, are your findings humorous.

"I refuse to believe I was kidnapped by a thin, blond, boy such as yourself." You attack him with your words. Those baby blues widen, the blond smiles maliciously.

"I didn't kidnap you, my friend did. I'm just here to get answers from you." The blond runs his hand through his short hair.

"So you're supposed to torture me? How cute." He only has shown enthusiasm to your behavior, which pissed you off a little.

"Precisely, I may not seem all that scary but I know how to get answers from people." He say intimidatingly.

You say nothing in return because you don't believe him at all.

"F/n, L/n, is it? That little sister of yours is very pretty. Wonder what would happen if I sent some guys-"

"My sister is more than capable of kicking ass, she learned from the best." You imply yourself as the best.

You're twenty-three while your sister is twenty. She's learned self defense and offense attacks in case of an emergency.

"Interesting, most people crack when a family member's life is at stake." He grins.

You are a little bit worried, but you know your sister better than anyone. She can handle anything thrown at her.

Armin, you learn, keeps asking questions, trying to get information out of you.

"You might want to just tell me because my buddy Connie isn't as nice as I am." He threatens.

"Let's hope he doesn't hit like a sissy." You respond.

Armin laughs like he's crazy. Then once again asked, "why have you been stealing our shipments and sabotaging our missions?" His voice no longer held any softness it had earlier.

"Like I said the last time, because I wanted to." A smirk creeped onto your face. Armin was getting impatient with you and your annoying back and forth with him.

He clicks the little earpiece and starts talking, "should I send in Connie or Mikasa? She's refusing to cooperate."

He was silent while the person on the other end spoke.

"Oh... alright I'll wait for you to arrive." Armin smirks at you an evil look in his eyes.

"You've done it now, have fun speaking to him." Armin crosses his arms and begins to whistle.

Excitement flows throughout your body, who are you going to encounter next?

Within a few minutes a man with long brown hair, emerald green eyes, and a well fitted suit walks in with a woman who has short black hair and a red scarf, the other man has a growing buzz cut and a nasty scowl on his face.

"It still surprises me that one woman has been able to cause so much chaos in my group." His velvet voice shook your soul.

"Never underestimate a woman, Eren." The black haired girl speaks, she has the voice of an angel.

"You can go Armin, thanks for the help." The brunnette dismisses him.

"Of course, if you need anything I'm in the main building." Armin smiled at you as he walked out, it was more of a childish 'you're in trouble now' kind of smile.

"Do I look familiar to you?" Eren asks.

You knew an Eren when you were a young girl, that was a long time ago. This man doesn't look the Eren you knew.

"No, am I supposed to recognize you?" Eren looks at your chained arms and he chuckles.

"You should recognize me, does 'Eren's famous mud pies' ring any bells?" He asks folding his big bulky arms.

"I didn't want to believe it was you." Is all you say sighing.

"What was your reasoning, if you didn't know I was the head of this group?" When Eren had found out his childhood crush was antagonizing him, he thought that you were trying to get his attention.

"Your father." Eren's eyes widened.

"My father?" He asks.

"Yeah, at first I thought he just didn't like my family. Recently though, from the test results it turns out he killed my father and once attempted to murder me in my sleep. I was only returning the favor. Seems the old geezer retired and put you in his place to save his ass." Before Eren could respond Connie spoke up.

"How do we know she isn't lying?" He asks.

"That would be a very sick thing to lie about." Mikasa counters.

"So Dad wasn't lying about that..." Eren whispers more to himself than to anyone in particular. You hear it anyway and your eyes squint.

"You knew?" Betrayal starts to seep through your body, even if you haven't seen Eren in a long time he was still somebody you used to trust your life with.

"Well yeah, but when he confessed it sounded too ridiculous to be true but now that I know it's true, I'm angry. I can't believe he tried to fucking kill you." The look on his face is lethal. You understand his anger but it makes you upset that he's more concerned about you than the fact that Grisha killed your father.

"It doesn't matter to you that he killed my dad?" Venom is laced in your voice, Eren's emerald eyes flicker your way and they soften for a moment.

"That's not what I meant. Of course I'm mad he killed your father. I'm... I just- I'm pissed he tried to kill the girl he knows I love! Even if that bastard is my father, he's going to pay." Eren blurts his love confession to you and everyone else is shocked, including you.

"Love? Eren what the actually fuck? Why didn't we know about this?! I thought we were like family!" Connie shouts he sounds more betrayed than angry.

"Yeah Eren, what the hell? Saying you love me won't bring my dad back." You're smug now, it hurts thinking about him but you won't cry, especially not in front of the son of the man who killed him. That would only make his death more pitiful.

"You can't seriously be implying you don't feel the same way." Eren's voice holds none of that comfort from earlier.

"Eren, don't do this. Not everything will go your way." Mikasa reminds him calmly.

"I wasn't fucking talking to you Mikasa! Answer the damn question!" He screams at you.

It seems he's the same as he's always been, your little maniac.

"Eren you are so pathetic, why obsess over someone like me?" His hands ball up into fists and it looks like he might bust a vein.

"Quit stalling, you can't tell me you don't love me after all those years we spent together." Connie grips his shoulder, but it does nothing to ground Eren because he's lunging at you in rage.

"No Eren, I don't love you. How could I? You and your asshole father can rot in hell." You're lying straight to his face, you want nothing more than to kiss him right now. It's not possible, maybe in another life where your father is still breathing.

Mikasa and Connie use all their strength to pull him back. You watch as they escort the love of your life out of the basement. He's screaming and cursing at you. The only thing you seem to tune into is, "This isn't over! I know you love me! You can't punish me for something I didn't do! I still love you." The last part was spoken quietly.

Your heart was beating loudly in your chest from everything going on. When he's out of sight, you mouth, "I love you too."

pt 2??? maybe?????

[sednonamoris]

blood of the covenant

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: Arthur and Abigail make a promise. You and John have a chance to find out what that means for you, if you’re brave enough.

Warnings: Christian religious imagery/blasphemy, strong language, canon-typical substance use and abuse, mild fluff

Word count: 2,432

A/N: Chapter 20, and what a milestone she is!! I hope you all enjoy this one as much as me - it was an absolute joy to write 🥰

Series masterlist • AO3

—

The threat of Pinkertons so close to camp has everyone on edge, especially since the law found you as quickly as it did in Scarlett Meadows. Everyone but Dutch, it seems. You and Arthur both agree that you should’ve moved camp by now, but you haven’t, and life must go on, so the robbing and killing has hardly stopped on that account.

Camp life is business as usual.

Ms. Grimshaw watches over all, holding the girls to a punishing standard. Dutch schemes. Hosea worries. The boys terrorize Valentine’s saloons and homesteads and lonely dirt roads. Pearson takes every opportunity to talk about his Navy days over a daily pot of stew filled with game that Charles brings in. Reverend Swanson oscillates between fits of passion and pain and morphine melancholy. Uncle can be found propped up napping anywhere and everywhere. Sometimes you stick a boot in his ribs as you pass just to make sure he’s still alive.

John, for his part, is consumed entirely by his sheep rustling scheme. He splits his days between Emerald Ranch and Valentine’s stockyards, which is probably for the best because Arthur and Abigail haven’t been shy about playing happy family with Jack. It’s like the tentative truce forged after the train job between brothers is all Arthur needed to open the cracked shell of his heart fully. The way he looks at Abigail - the way she looks at him - tugs at heartstrings you’d thought long-severed. Mrs. Adler watches them from the edge of camp with a wistful look in her burnt-barn eyes, mouth caught between a smile and a snarl. Even Kieran stutters out a comment about how sweet they seem when he’s sure Arthur won’t hear.

Trusting in how peaceful— how happy things have been is hard, but you can’t say you miss the tension and misery from before. It’s… nice. It feels nice.

—

You’re more surprised than you should be when Arthur and Abigail come up to you, eyes bright and cheeks flushed and looking so strikingly young, to tell you they’re getting married. In town. Today.

“We just need a witness,” Arthur says. The asking is implied.

“Can’t you take Mary-Beth? She loves this sort of thing,” you try to deflect, caught between joy and discomfort. “I doubt there’s a church they’d let me in, even.”

It’s not that you aren’t happy for them - you’re thrilled. But to actually go with them and sign documents and make things official in the eyes of the law and the God you’re on such bad terms with? It feels like a lot. It feels a little like a betrayal, still. Your eyes search for some kind of comfort in John’s figure across camp, but it’s in vain. If anything, it reminds you how precarious this joy is. How a selfish part of you wishes to lay claim to more of it.

“We want it to be you,” Abigail smiles.

You shouldn’t.

But her eyes are pleading. You start to wilt under the happiness and hope that shines through them like the sun. “Please, Ghost.”

You’re not sure how anyone’s ever said no to her, the way she blinks up through her lashes and grasps your hand in hers and smiles so sweet. And Arthur is no better. It’s hard to remember a time he’s been so happy. So hopeful. The broadness of his frame has taken on a boyish lightness that wasn’t there even when he was a boy.

Shit.

“Fine,” you finally relent. “I guess I know the Reverend in town.”

The relief and excitement on their faces is almost worth the knot of nerves in your stomach.

—

“My friend!” Reverend Hampton calls out when he spies your approach.

You make to shake his hand but he pulls you in for a hug instead. You return it awkwardly and flash a bashful grin. “Reverend, these are my good friends, Arthur and Abigail. They’d… Well, they’d like to be married today. Can you help us?”

His smile, broad and warm and maybe even a little smug, is all the answer you need.

While he procures the necessary documents the three of you fidget near the altar in an otherwise empty church. Muted rays of midday sun fight their way past cloud cover to reflect greens and reds and golds through stained glass. It paints the French blue of Abigail’s finest dress mosaic, like she’s some kind of Mother Mary that walked right out of a window pane. She alternates between clutching the bouquet of wildflowers that Tilly helped Jack pick to her chest and beaming up at Arthur. He stands stiffly opposite her in a suit that doesn’t quite fit, itching at the collar. His returning smiles are a crooked and genuine show of teeth, like he still can’t believe he made it this far. Like his body has a hard time accommodating happiness this size. He’s spent so long in self-inflicted loneliness.

Maybe you have, too.

All four of you cry and laugh in equal measure when the vows are exchanged. Forever recited back in different shades of blue. Arthur places the ring on Abigail’s finger so delicately it makes your heart ache. He kisses her just as tender, just as careful. You look away and wipe at your tears. The Reverend pronounces them man and wife. Arthur prints his name on the marriage certificate afterwards in careful, elegant script. You both smile encouragingly when Abigail signs her X on the line beside it.

Yours fits just off to the side. You have to stop yourself from signing Ghost.

“You know,” Arthur says to the Reverend as you all turn to leave, “we know a Reverend. He ain’t nothin’ like you.”

Reverend Hampton’s expression manages to be both serene and amused. “Every Shepherd has his flock. I am honored to have been trusted with his today.”

You snort. “Figures you’d say somethin’ like that.”

Arthur and Abigail go on ahead to the wagon hand in hand. It’s impossible to miss, decked out as it is in the tinsel and bells Mary-Beth scrounged up to make it appropriately romantic. You linger a moment longer at the chapel’s threshold with the Reverend.

“Thank you for this,” you say. Your eyes trace the joy on your dear friends’ faces. “Feels like I’m always in your debt.”

“Nonsense, my child. I am in yours. You have brought life and love here - that’s all an old man could wish for. But please,” he says, and turns to squeeze your hands in his, “do not squander this chance at your own happiness.”

You tuck your chin and stare at your boots while embarrassment burns from your chest to your cheeks. “I’ll try.”

He smiles. “That’s all we can ever do in this life. Go in peace.”

—

You drive the wagon home to the sound of hoofbeats and tinkling bells and laughter and love. It starts raining along the way, light and clean. Lances of sunlight beam through the clouds.

—

“Mr. Morgan,” Dutch greets, a shine in his dark eyes. “Mrs. Morgan. We sure are glad to have you back.”

Jack runs up past everyone with shrieking laughter. “You’re so pretty, Momma!”

And she is. A vision in blue, swept up in Arthur’s embrace. He carries her down from the wagon just to hear her laugh.

The girls coo over the ring on her finger while the boys shake Arthur by the shoulder with grins wide enough to swallow him whole. Choruses of that ring is so pretty and you finally grew some balls and I bet the church was nice inside and can’t believe you squeezed into that suit and won’t you spin for us form that familiar symphony of family you’ve come to count on all these years.

John lingers on the periphery of it all, but he makes a point of stepping forward and shaking Arthur’s hand before the dancing starts. He reaches for Abigail’s hands and murmurs something close to congratulations.

“Thank you, John,” Abigail says through shining tears. A little sad. A little overjoyed. A little relieved, even.

Arthur can’t find the right words, but his eyes say it all for him.

“Sure,” John grimaces a smile, “sure. You two… be well. Really.”

They whisk away to the sound of music crackling from Dutch’s gramophone, leaving him beside you with a half-broke heart. John shakes his head at the silent question posed by the tilt of your head, so you settle on the edge of the celebration to watch them whirl in ¾ time. They’re given time enough for a few twirls and dips all their own before the others start to join in.

The rain hasn’t let up. But sometimes it’s good to dance in the rain, and it’s not so damp yet that you can’t light a cigarette. You inhale deep and sigh out smoke before passing it to John without a word. He always ends up bumming off you anyway.

“Was it nice?” he asks through smoke-filled lungs. His gaze never strays from the happy couple.

“Yeah,” you say, then huff half of a laugh. “Made me cry.”

He eyes you without turning away from the dancing. “Really?”

“Really. That goddamn Reverend always gets me… weepy and shit.”

“Easy with the blasphemy, there.” A smile ghosts across his face.

“Or what? I’ll be struck down by lightning?” you scoff. “Be doin’ me a favor. Then I won’t have to listen to you ask about things you don’t wanna know.”

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s smiling now. It’s one of the real ones - one of the rare ones - that goes a little lopsided and softens the sharp flint of his eyes. You’re unreasonably proud of yourself for it.

He turns to face you, now, hesitant. Something about the way he looks at you makes you shift in place. “What?”

“Do you…” he starts awkwardly, clears his throat. Holds out a hand. “Will you dance with me?”

You look at his hand, then at him. It’s hard to hide your smile, so you give up trying. “Long as you don’t step on my feet.”

“Can’t promise that,” he laughs an awkward little laugh as he takes your hand and leads you into the fray.

The song playing now isn’t quite as upbeat, so the tempo is a little easier on his two left feet. You let him lead through the simpler steps and take charge when he falters through the more difficult sequences. It’s a perfect give and take. He even manages not to squash your toes.

“I know this ain’t an easy thing,” you say lowly, so only he can hear you over the music. “Can I ask how you’re feeling now?”

He sighs. “I feel… I don’t know. Fine, I guess. I reckon Abigail was right about—” he cuts himself off there and swallows. His cheeks stain red past the rain. He can’t look you in the eye.

“Right about what?”

“Nothin’. Me and her not bein’ right.”

The song ends, so he spins you out one last time and then you face one another with a bow before melding back into the edge of things. He grabs a beer for each of you from a nearby crate. There’s more there, something you know you’re missing, but you don’t press. Feels like you never do. Instead you clink your bottle to his drink to new beginnings. To things working out the way they’re meant to.

—

The rain clears up just before the sun sets and paints the sky in dewey blues and golds past the few lavender clouds that remain. Silk dresses and wedding bands. Songbird wings and sunshine. Happiness. Hope.

—

Arthur is busy being newly married and tying up loose ends for Strauss, so when the time comes just a few days later John brings you in on his sheep scheme instead. It’s a simple enough thing to scare off the ranchers and take over their wooly charges. You’ve done a bit of farm work here and there, and Moonshine has a real knack for it. Old Boy is less interested in the sheep, but John does a decent job for a man without any real experience.

You run them into Valentine with little trouble.

Trouble comes instead from the foreman at the stockyard who eyes the both of you, scarred and mean, with suspicion. You guess you can’t blame him.

“Fine sheep,” John says. He’s awful proud of himself.

The man shrugs. “They’re alright.”

“You got much better?” you say, but you already know where this is headed.

“I got plenty with less… ambiguity about their provenance.” He makes a point of eyeing your beat up clothes and unconcealed weapons.

“Those are real fancy words, mister. Not sure I take your meaning.”

He doesn’t smile. “I’ll make it simple, then. You give me twenty-five percent kick back and I don’t say nothin’ to nobody.”

“The fuck do you think I look like?” you snarl, stepping up in his face. A scam is a fine idea, but getting scammed yourself? You don’t take kindly to that.

He doesn’t flinch. “I think you look like a low-down criminal, and I know folk swing for rustlin’ ‘round these parts. Twenty-five percent. I won’t say it again.”

You open your mouth to argue but John grabs your shoulder to pull you back and steps forward in your place. “Fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

They haggle back and forth while you stew in your discontent and glare at the other hands until they finally shake on eighteen. You shake as well with a look that could kill, but don’t say another word until you and John make it back to the horses hitched a little ways away.

“Eighteen? Really?”

“Like you could do better. I mean what were you gonna do? Beat him? Kill him? Then what?”

You scoff, but it’s hard to argue his point. “Fine. I guess it’s better than nothin’.”

“You’re damn right it is. This worked out, relax.” He mounts up. “Dutch wanted me to meet him and Arthur at the saloon. I’ll see you at camp?”

“Sure,” you say. “Try not to get so drunk you can’t find your way back. It’s only noon.”

He laughs. “I’ll try. It’s been that kind of week.”

It sure has.

You ride back at an easy lope on a loose rein, enjoying the day and the lightness in your chest that’s been there since the wedding. A bad deal on good sheep feels like nothing at all compared to that. Nothing at all.

By the time the gunfire sounds, you’re too far away to hear it.

[lovelyladylavie]

Background character sketches for "My Brother’s Child", a fic I've been writing for about a year. It is E-rated for s*x and graphic vio lence, but it's also full of Rise-style fluff, family moments, and humor. But I'm adding a T-rated version soon, and when I do, I'll drop the link.

The fic is generally about the different stages of love and loss the adult turtles go through during the apocalyptic future in the Rise Movie, and how things change over the course of the years until Time Travel Day. The fic is canon compliant, so all the losses suffered in the movie are, in fact, in the fic, or will be soon.

So i needed some background characters that can create situations for the turtles to navigate. Expendables, if you will.

This is the Mad Dogs Hockey Team (and a few others). They're Raph and Cass' scavenger squad full of ultra-strong weirdos. All their weapons and armor were made by Donnie during a fit of unbridled inspiration.

But anyway, in case you can't read my chicken scratch (from left to right) under the cut:

Denzlo:

-Stinky Boy

-Doesn't shower much to conserve water

-Fiercely Loyal to Raph and Cass

-Incredibly kind, but has a short fuse

Evans:

-Out of the Box Thinker

-Tall and Buff (gotta stay fit in the apocalypse)

-Smartass

-loves his wife, Spice

(Not on here, but recent lore drop in the fic, Evans was training to be a radiologist, so he's the group's de facto medic. He also loves stealing dried herbs/spices during scavenges to spice up he and his wife's rations)

Spice:

-Soft spoken and stealthy

-uses Donnie-Tech camo cloak

-high kraang kill-count

-loves her husband (they dance together at bad times)

-was a law student

Pietro:

-Angry at everything, was scared of mutants (still kinda is.)

-has two kids (Trish and Tai)

-unpleasant person in general

Quinn:

-Short Queen, sweetheart

-Used to be a mortician

-Goth, from Jersey

-Took care of Raphael’s body

Maya:

-A bit self-centered, brutal, sadistic

-likes cute things

-likes Mikey

-uh oh

The honorable Rabbi Venkman (Not a member of the Hockey Team, but one of Mikey’s 'Light-Steppers', the mystic warrior squad he teaches):

-handles all religious crises in the rebellion base

-Thinks the world of Mikey, learned mystic arts from him

-very tall and soft spoken

-very moral and fair, if a lil sassy

Delia Vardanyan (civilian):

-In charge of the war's orphans, takes care of all children on base when their parents are busy, in charge of their general education.

-HATES Donnie (likes his brothers, though?)

- Armenian immigrant. survivor of the original kraang attack. Very loud/outspoken. They found her eating MREs in a turned over battleship in the harbor.

-Trusts. NO. One. (Sleeps a lot)

Yuri:

-Was a tourist/exchange student in NYU from Sweden

-Struggles with English and has a very heavy accent

-Maya is his bestie by default bc she speaks fluent Swedish and was the only one who could understand him when the world flipped upside down. His English has gotten better over the years, but he still needs her.

-Speedy in battles. Will share his rations. Bit of an appreciator of the finer things in life, like wine.

-Maya and Yuri have both slept with Mikey. Mikey is quite a Casanova in the resistance due to his mystic mystique. (That... might change once he starts aging more rapidly, however...)

There's another page of characters, but it contains spoilers, so im gonna have to correct that before i show it.

[sirowsky]

Surviving Christmas

At last, December has arrived, and I can share this lovely little Christmas tale, as part of @startrekkingaroundasgard 's Winter Gift Exchange!

My giftee is @firstofficerwiggles and I hope you'll find this cute and fluffy and not too long ;-)

Description: A reluctantly rich heiress, having recently inherited your mother's fortune after her passing, you're not at all feeling the spirit of the holidays. But you've stupidly agreed to go to a party. One which might end up being the best decision you've ever made.

Warnings: Din Djarin x Female Reader, no y/n, no physical description of reader, deceased parent, mild tones of sadness/grief, Christmas themes, fake dating, plenty of fluff, happy ending. Word Count: 6500 Author's Masterlist

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   He was, in a word, mysterious.    Mr. Din Djarin.    Silent, but not in a brooding sort of way. It seemed more as though his mind was always occupied, always observing. Which was prudent of him since he was a security guard, but it annoyed you.

   Primarily because you found him intriguing and wanted to learn more about him, but your questions were generally met with shrugs or the very briefest and unembroidered answers that he could come up with.    Which led you to the assumption that he didn’t share your interest in getting more acquainted, for any reason.

   It wasn’t like you wanted to jump his bones, although he was ridiculously handsome. It was more like he was a puzzle that you were itching to solve. Made even more infuriating by the realization that every time you managed to find two pieces that fit together, the image changed and nothing made sense.    So, you lived under a constant cloud of frustration, as the man refused to come into focus.

   It wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the fact that you couldn’t avoid him, even for a moment, since he was your protector and currently lived in your guest room.    You weren’t really a celebrity, you were just rich, which put you in the public eye even though that was where you least wanted to be.

   Your wealth wasn’t earned, it had been passed to you at the death of your extremely ambitious mother, about ten months ago, and although you’d given heaps of it to people in need, it never seemed to diminish.    And your generosity had of course not gone unnoticed by the public, which was why you were now stuck in the company of a man that seemed unable to enjoy anything.

   Coming up on your first Christmas without your mother didn’t help either. She may have been a career-woman and a real shark when it came to business, but at home, she’d been warm and kind.    Your only real issue with her throughout your life, had been how absent she’d been for so much of the year, travelling all over the world for her ambitions.

   But Christmas had been her constant. The one holiday she’d never missed, never allowed her work to steal her away from, making it your favourite time of year.    She’d been all the family you’d ever had and now she was gone.    It made you want to jump forwards in time and just avoid the whole holiday, but sadly, science had not yet figured out how.

   Instead, you’d stupidly promised to appear at a private but luxurious party, in a penthouse apartment in New York, because the owner and host was your best friend and you couldn’t turn him down.    He was trying to help, you knew that. Trying to distract you from the loss, but no manner of glitter or glamour was gonna make you forget that she wouldn’t be there.

   Still, as the day arrived, you went all out. Because if you were gonna be trapped at a party being miserable, you were at least gonna fake it with style.    And boy, were you gonna have to fake it.

   “Alright, let’s get this over with,” you declared as Mr. Djarin opened your bedroom door at the exact time you’d asked him to.

   He said nothing in response, as always, and you caught his eyes quickly travelling over your form before he stepped aside to let you pass.    But it wasn’t an appreciative glance. It was merely to assess how vulnerable you were. If you could run or carry a weapon, should it become necessary.    And honestly, it bruised your ego. You were single, after all.

   Annoyed that he couldn’t even bring himself to compliment your appearance out of mere politeness, and already stressed about how terrible this Christmas Day was gonna be, you snapped at him while you walked ahead of him towards the stairs.

   “Does anything in this universe interest you, Mr. Djarin? Or is it just me you find endlessly tedious?”

   You’d hired him just three months earlier, entirely based on his faultless merits and not his personality, so in truth, you only had yourself to blame.    But was it really so hard to just say that you looked nice?    You would’ve appreciated it even if it was entirely insincere, just for the smallest sign that he cared about more than just your physical wellbeing.

   “Are you dissatisfied with my performance, Boss?” he asked, somehow sounding completely unbothered by your rather rude questions.

   “No, not at all, your performance is perfect. I just wish you had a damned personality,” you griped, regretting the words from the moment they left your mouth.

   You stopped inside the front door of your house and sighed, suddenly feeling ten times worse about everything, but mostly just yourself.

   “I’m sorry… that was mean,” you admitted, shaking your head. “I hate this. I don’t wanna go to a party, I wanna curl up on my sofa and eat treats and read books until I fall asleep.”

   “Then why don’t you?” he surprised you by asking, and he sounded sincere.

   But you didn’t have an answer. All you had were excuses, so you opted to keep your mouth shut and walk out to the waiting car instead.    He followed, getting in beside you in the backseat while the driver waited behind the wheel. You refused to have your car-door held open for you as it was something you considered superfluous and somewhat vexing.

   It was a long drive because your house was outside of the city, and traffic was horrible so it took a good while to get there, which prompted your host George to make sure that you hadn’t changed your mind.    Your phone pinged, and you groaned even before you’d picked it up, knowing who it would be because he always did this.

   [Hey, gorgeous! No cold feet, I hope?] he wrote, and you wanted to throw the phone away and just tell the driver to take you back home.

   [10 minutes away] was all the reply he got, while you once again wondered why you were doing this to yourself.

   [Did you bring a date?] he asked then, and your stomach dropped.

   Because he wouldn’t ask you that unless he had something up his sleeve, and knowing him, it could only be one of two things.    Either, he’d heard some rumour on the grapevine about you and some guy, and wanted to know if it was true, or he was trying to fix you up with someone.

   And given the time of year, with the potential around mistletoes and all that, you were certain that it was the latter, and nothing was less appealing to you right then, than the prospect of being hit on.

   “Sarah, stop the car, please,” you asked the driver, and she immediately turned to the side and stopped at the curb.

   “What’s going on?” Mr. Djarin inquired, wanting to know what changes he might have to make to ensure your safety.

   “I’ve changed my mind, I’m not going,” you said, almost on the verge of tears for some reason.

   “Why not?” he pressed, which was unusual for him.

   He had thus far been very respectful of your decisions, never trying to influence you or meddle in your life. He would simply inform you of what dangers you might face and how to best avoid them, but he’d leave the decisions up to you.    So, if he was asking you to elaborate then he had to have good reason.

   “Because I’m pretty sure that George has someone there waiting for me, and I can’t deal with that crap right now.    I’m already pushing it just showing up, knowing that I’m gonna have to fake a smile the entire night and then come up with some socially acceptable excuse to leave early.    If I have to spend the evening with some lovesick puppy on my heels too, I’m gonna explode,” you tried to explain.

   But if he reacted in any way, you didn’t see it, as you kept your gaze on the sidewalk outside of your window.    He seemed to think on it, though, staying quiet for a minute. And then he said the very last thing that you could ever have imagined.

   “George hasn’t met me yet. You could use me as your cover.”

   You were so sure that you must’ve heard that wrong, that it took a good moment before the words sunk into your brain and you slowly turned your head to stare at him.

   “What?” was all you could muster, and he turned his head to meet your eyes when he responded, perfectly calm and earnest.

   “If it’s what you need to get you through the evening, then I can play your date,” he said, dead serious, and then he shrugged. “I have to be there anyway and it would only make it easier to keep an eye on you.”

   He wasn’t wrong about that. As much as you were dreading this evening, you could at least dip into the eggnog or hide in the bathroom for a while.    But he’d have to endure every second of it on full alert, unable to enjoy it even if it had been his kind of scene, which you were fairly certain that it wasn’t.

   “Wouldn’t it be easier for us both if I just didn’t go?” you asked, utterly shocked by this turn of events.

   “Probably,” he declared simply, once more leaving the choice up to you.

   You’d agreed to go to this party. You’d made that choice with no knife aimed at your throat, and while you’d regretted it ever since, there was a part of you that knew exactly why you’d said yes.    The lonely part. The section of your brain that craved company, even when all you wanted was a blanket and hot cocoa and your favourite tv-show.

   It was the pain that accompanied the season that was making all this so difficult, but at heart, you weren’t someone that thrived in solitude.    Your wealth was the problem there, because it mostly attracted idiots or fortune seekers, and it was getting increasingly difficult to trust anyone when they claimed to like you for who you were.

   But you still craved that partnership, that sense of belonging and togetherness, and that was why you’d gotten into the car at all that night.    Because there was a chance… just the smallest increment of a possibility, that the mistletoe might have something new to show you this year.

   However, if you were truly honest with yourself, you didn’t really believe that such a thing would ever happen to you. It was just a dream that you wished you could believe.    But looking at your protector in that moment, your perspective shifted, ever so slightly, with the realization that there was nothing preventing you from letting yourself pretend.    Just for that night, you could make believe that you had everything you wanted.

   “Sarah,” you called to the driver, “let’s keep going.”

   Then you looked back at Mr. Djarin, who’s expression hadn’t changed at all.

   “We’ll give it a go and pretend that it’s our first date, to make any awkwardness between us seem natural. But if I feel like we need to bail, I’ll take your hand and squeeze it really hard, okay?” you instructed, and he nodded once.

   “Good plan, Boss.”

   “No, it isn’t,” you scoffed at your own ridiculousness. “But even though I’m so not in the mood and I’m pretty sure that this is gonna suck no matter what, I feel like I still need to go.    Whether for mom or for myself, I don’t know. I just need to… give Christmas a chance.”

   You weren’t quite sure why you told him that, but it felt like he deserved to know where your head was at, if he was gonna chaperone you for several hours.

   “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone spoil your night,” he promised, still with that serious expression that was just about the only one you’d ever seen on him.

   “Thank you,” you offered, despite your confusion at this deeply uncharacteristic generosity from him, and he returned to staring out of his window.

   A man of mystery, indeed.    The kindness of the gesture notwithstanding, it did nothing to help you understand him better. More so the opposite.    But you did feel a bit less uncomfortable about the party, knowing that you’d have an arm to lean on if you needed it.

   The car came to a stop outside the fifty-story building and you allowed Mr. Djarin to get the door for you this time, to further sell the idea that he was your date.    You managed to resist the urge to slap his hand away when he offered to superfluously assist in your departure from the vehicle, letting his fingers gently curl around yours in what suddenly felt like a very intimate touch.

   It was probably just because he’d never touched you before, but the warmth and unexpected delicacy of his hand, was enough to make the hairs on your neck stand up, and not at all in an unpleasant way.    Then, like a true gentleman, he offered you his arm once he’d let you go.    You took it, letting your fingers wrap loosely around the base of his bicep, which was larger than you’d expected, and together you entered the building and headed for the elevators.

   A strange little buzz moved through you as you stood beside him, just the two of you in the small space as you were lifted to the correct floor, and you wondered if he felt something similar.    He was impossible to read, save for the tiny clues that his body-language sometimes gave off, which was something that he seemed to have an annoyingly good control over.

   If he didn’t want anyone to know what he was thinking or feeling, then there was no way that anyone could work it out just by observing him.    But he could also make his thoughts and intentions abundantly clear without making a sound, if he chose to.    You’d often wished that he would’ve let you see more of his personality, but he never did.

   A sign of a truly good professional, you supposed, but still a very bleak way to live.    Not that it was any of your business.

   “Take a breath,” he whispered, just as the elevator started slowing down, reminding you that you were supposed to be relaxed and happy.

   You did as he said and felt a heap of tension slip away from your frame as your lungs inflated, unlocking the muscles around your chest.

   “Thank you,” you whispered back, and then the doors to the penthouse opened.

   Normally, the elevator would stop without the doors opening automatically, needing to be unlocked from inside the apartment, to keep unwanted visitors out. But whenever there was a party, George would temporarily disable that function.    Instead, he placed two tall and burly-looking guards at the entrance, to make sure that no one gate-crashed.

   You gave them your name, and then announced Mr. Djarin as your plus one, to which the two men stepped aside and welcomed you with a surprisingly cheerful holiday greeting.    And once you walked in from the foyer, your eyes, nose and ears were positively bombarded with Christmas. The entire place had been covered, from floor to ceiling, with decorations and trees and all around were little tables covered with treats and drinks.

   All the well-known classics, from Sinatra and Elvis to Mariah Carey and Nat King Cole, were playing just a tad too loudly, and everything was simply as over the top as Christmas can be.    Your mother would’ve loved it.    Keeping that thought in your mind helped you to not just turn around and leave within five seconds of arriving, but only just.

   “BAAABIE!!” a very familiar squeal sounded from across the room, before George parted the sea of people by sticking his hands in the air and preceding to just glide over the floor in the most over-the-top dramatic fashion that he could manage.

   Not that you were in the least surprised. It was only to be expected of a recently retired supermodel.

   “Hi, Georgie,” you answered once he got to you, before letting him pretend to kiss your cheeks in that completely useless way that so many celebrities did.

   “I’m so glad you came! And you brought a date!” he was still squealing when he turned his attention to your protector, but then let his face fall into the drama-queen-version of a scowl, to commence his scrutiny.

   “Nice physique. Good suit, although nothing I would wear, but we can’t all be perfect, that would be exceedingly dull,” he prattled on while you politely smiled despite rolling your eyes at him. “Gorgeous eyes, though. The browns always get me weak in the knees.”

   “Alright, that’s enough,” you said light-heartedly, but with emphasis. “It’s our first date, try not to scare him away.”

   “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Mr. Djarin warmly assured you, placing his large hand over yours, where it still rested in the crook of his elbow. “I’m not easily deterred.    It’s a pleasure to meet you, George, my name is Din,” he finished, turning his attention back to the host.

   You were more than a little surprised at the endearing way that he addressed you, since he’d never called you anything but Boss or Miss before.    But you were even more surprised by how hearing him talk to you like that, made a very tingly sort of warmth pool in your stomach.    And it was true that his eyes were captivating. A fact made so much clearer now, when his normally so reserved manner was blown away.

   It wasn’t as though he’d become a different person, but more like he was just allowing himself to be less controlled and professional. More casual.    Something that you’d seriously begun to suspect that he might not be capable of, and which you were only all too happy to have proven wrong.    But you also needed to remind yourself that he was your employee, and that this was all pretend.

   This shift in his behaviour was starting to make him look very appealing, which was a dangerous thing for you to feel towards the man that was in charge of your safety.    Still, it said a great deal about his charisma that he was able to scramble your mind within just a few moments of turning on his charms.    Either that, or you were even more starved of company than you’d realized.

   “Welcome, Din. Now, take good care of my girl tonight, you hear?” George cautioned, in a very uncommon serious tone, reserved for only the most severe of circumstances. “She’s my darling, and if you break her heart, I’m the one that’s gonna have to put it back together, which would automatically make me hate and loathe you for all eternity.    And I have a lot of power in this city.”

   “Gee!? What did I just say about not scaring him away?” you reproved, suddenly feeling embarrassed that your friend would take such a bluntly direct approach.

   He didn’t know that it was fake, after all. And while you’d witnessed him very effectively safeguard you from drunks and idiots alike, many times before, this was different.    He seemed so much more genuine in that moment. So much more convinced that this could be the real deal, which would make it your first attempt at a romantic relationship since your mother passed.

   Except, this wasn’t real.

   “Just telling it like it is, boo,” George shrugged, having returned to his dramatic flair.

   “I appreciate the honesty,” Mr. Djarin nodded at him, seemingly perfectly at ease with your friend’s complete lack of delicacy.

   Your host was pleased with that, and shot you a little smile as he turned and strode off among the glittering crowd, while you just shook your head after him.

   “I’m so sorry about him,” you said to your protector, feeling oddly exposed by the uncomfortable exchange, as though George had revealed some hidden truth about you, which wasn’t the case.

   “Don’t be. The mark of a truly good friend is honesty.”

   You couldn’t argue with that, and it made you feel better to hear him say it, so you smiled in thanks and was surprised to see him return the gesture. You’d never seen him smile before.    And damned it… he was cute.

   “How about some food?” he suggested, indicating the larger tables along the far wall of the room, that were packed with all sorts of edibles.

   “Sure," you agreed, letting him lead the way while you kept a firm grip on his arm.

   You let him go once you reached the plates, though, in order to pick what you wanted from the generous offerings, but it made you feel vulnerable.    He was such a solid thing to hold on to. You felt certain that he could tackle any problem that he encountered, and most assuredly anything that might happen while standing guard over a helpless rich woman.

   “Why did you take the job?” you asked him while you looked for a place to sit down to eat and made sure that George wasn’t close enough to hear you, since the question might give away your bluff.

   “Is there some reason that I shouldn’t have?” he countered, but he sounded only curious, so you elaborated.

   “I guess I’m just wondering why someone that seems so capable is trapping himself with such a dull working life. I mean, it’s not like anything ever happens to me,” you said, just as you found an abandoned love seat close to the balcony.

   “And yet, you want protection,” he pondered, and simultaneously avoided directly answering the question. “Which tells me that you feel unsafe.”

   “Not really. I’m just fed up with having to fend for myself against the horridness that comes out in people when they know that I have money.    Mom kept me away from all spotlights, protected me from becoming this famous kid of a rich person, and then when I grew up, I decided to stay in the shadows. If she hadn’t died, I would’ve continued to live a normal life, free of all this.”

   “So, I’m a deterrent?” he asked in between bites, but it was more of a conclusion than a question.

   “Yeah, I guess you sort of are,” you admitted, somehow feeling bad about it, like you were using him, even though he’d willingly signed on for the job.

   “Well, no one’s bothered you yet, tonight or any other night, so it seems to be working,” he said with a very small wink, just enough to let you know that he was fine with the situation.

   It made you smile, both knowing that the party probably wasn’t gonna be as bad as you’d imagined, but also that he wasn’t having the worst night of his life, despite the falseness.

   “Thank you for doing this, Mr. Djarin.”

   “Please, call me Din,” he offered, and your smile widened, because removing that formality made it so much easier to look at him as just this cute guy that was your date, rather than the tough guardian that you normally saw.

   You chatted some more while you ate, mostly about trivial stuff like favourite foods and whatnot, and then he once again surprised you.

   “Would you like to dance?” he asked, and for some reason it sent butterflies through your stomach.

   “Sure,” you replied before your brain had even fully grasped the meaning of the question.

   But by the time you’d caught up to your own response, Din had already led you to the floor, and suddenly his hand was on your waist and his broad frame was taking up almost your entire field of vision.    He moved softly, following the gentle piano notes of whatever song was playing, drowned out by the sudden noise of your own pulse beating in your ears.

   Oddly enough, your mind was focusing only on the way his hands felt against you.    The simultaneously firm but tender grip, in both the hand that held yours, and the one that secured your body against his.    He was keeping you close, moving slowly in the crowded room, and you could’ve sworn that his arm around you was pulling you closer with each step.

   Was he even watching your surroundings anymore?    You hadn’t seen his sharp eyes scan the room once since George walked away, so perhaps he’d simply decided that these people were no threat to you.    Or… was it possible that he’d gotten as lost in your closeness as you were in his?

   You could feel his cheek against your temple, and after about half the song, you felt his head dip forwards, as if he was smelling your hair, and then it stayed there.    But from that position, he wouldn’t be able to look out over the room, the most he’d be able to see would be the feet of the people closest behind you.    Which made you wonder if he was even acting as your security anymore.

   When the song ended, a much more energetic one followed, but he didn’t pull back or try to change the dance. He just kept swaying across the floor, as softly as a blade of grass in the wind, and you followed without protest.    This was the most intimate and comforting thing that had happened to you in as long as you could remember, and you didn’t want it to end.

   You closed your eyes and leaned into his chest, letting your head rest against his shoulder. All efforts of trying to maintain an air of professionalism between you, completely blown away in the sudden desire to just let yourself be held.    He let go of your hand and instead wrapped both arms around your waist, turning the dance into a moving hug, and somehow, the rest of the room just vanished.

   For a long and blissful moment, it was just the two of you. The firmness of his strong body enveloping you, along with the warmth that seeped through his suit, seeming to build a bubble around you that was strong enough to keep the entire world away.    But annoyingly, the world didn’t stay away. All too soon it invaded your bubble, making it crack and pull your protector away from you.

   Looking up, you saw what had drawn his attention as George was making a show of Santa’s sudden appearance from the balcony, to the delight of the entire room.    But instead of filling you with joy, the sight made you feel sad. Because it reminded you that it was Christmas Day and that your mother wasn’t there to hand out the presents like she always had.

   And for reasons that you couldn’t make sense of right then, although perhaps because of the tender moment that you’d just shared with Din, this became the thing that killed the evening for you.    Letting your arm slip from his shoulder, you took his hand and squeezed it as hard as you could, and his reaction was immediate.

   Without asking a single question, he turned towards the elevator and calmly pulled you through the crowd and away from the party.    It wasn’t until the doors had closed and the box had started dropping that he turned to look at you, and there was concern in his eyes.

   “Are you okay?” he asked softly, still holding your hand.

   “Yeah, I just had enough,” you said, suddenly too done with this day to explain any further.

   He didn’t ask anything more, he just nodded and reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone and call Sarah, who was still in the car and had parked nearby.    When you left the building, the car just came to a stop by the curb, and you climbed in without pause, feeling like you’d just stepped into a haven compared to the stuffed atmosphere up in the penthouse.

   No one said anything during the entire drive home, but once there, Din dutifully followed you inside to make sure that everything was in order.    But while he walked around to check all the rooms and windows, you were disheartened to see that his professional persona had snuffed out the warmth in his frame that you’d somehow gotten used to even after just a few hours of seeing it.

   As though an iron mask had fallen into place, his face was once again hard and unreadable, his shoulders stiff and ready, his hands idle by his sides.    He never shoved them into his pockets, or clasped them together, or crossed his arms. He kept them ready to be used for anything that he might have to do quickly, in order to protect you.

   But tonight, you wished that he would’ve let them stay soft. That he would’ve kept holding you, kept pulling you closer, like he had on the dancefloor.    Whether he’d meant to or not, that night he’d shown you who he was underneath the armour of his profession, and much to your own surprise, you wanted to know more.    You wanted more of him.

   But you couldn’t ask for it, because he wasn’t yours to know. Because tonight had been fake and this was reality. He just worked for you.    Coming back to the front hall, he nodded to indicate that his search hadn’t revealed anything of note, and you felt yourself return to the sad and lonely employer, accepting that the evening was over, and everything was back to normal.

   “Thank you, Mr. Djarin, that’ll be all,” you said, as his first name suddenly felt too personal again, but hating how his last name tasted so bitter now.

   Without waiting for a reply, and fully expecting him to just nod and leave you to your own thoughts, you turned away from him and headed for the fireplace in the living room, adjacent to the front hall.    There was a picture of you and your mother on the mantelpiece, from a winter holiday to Europe to see the northern lights, years earlier, and you stopped in front of it.

   It was your favourite picture, because it hadn’t been set up. It was a candid photo, taken by the wilderness guide that had brought the two of you out into the Swedish mountains.    You were both in the foreground, laughing because you’d been unexpectedly surrounded by reindeer while watching the sky, which was lit up in every colour of the rainbow, casting its magical glow over the snow-covered slopes.

   “I’m still Din to you,” a raspy, low voice whispered in your ear, startling you out of the memory.

   And when you whirled around to find out what he was up to, you found his impressive frame all around you as he leaned in and kissed you, ever so lightly, before quickly pulling back again.    His eyes were twinkling dark pools, more than deep enough for you to drown in as you stared at him, unable to grasp what was happening.

   “I’m sorry. That was very unprofessional, and I know that you have problems with relationships right now,” he explained apologetically, while you struggled to formulate a single thought. “But I feel like tonight was very special and it was just a little too perfect that you stopped underneath the mistletoe.”

   That woke your brain up, because you’d decorated your house by yourself, and you hadn’t put up any mistletoes.    But looking up, you found that there was indeed a red bow tied around a large bundle of the weed, hanging halfway up the visible stone chimney that followed the wall and disappeared up through the ceiling.

   “What? I didn’t put that there…” you mumbled, utterly confused by the whole situation.

   “No, I did,” he confessed, and you snapped your head back down to stare at him, but again, words failed you.

   You stood there with your mouth hanging open like a fish, while your mind tried to fit together the unsociable security specialist, with this cute and warm sweetheart that was now standing before you with an adorably insecure smile on his lips.

   “But… I don’t understand… I thought you didn’t like me,” you finally croaked, and his eyes turned down to observe his own feet for a moment.

   “I’m not supposed to, and I’ve tried not to,” he explained. “But the truth is that being your date tonight was just about the best thing that’s ever happened to me.    It was like Cinderella going to the ball, except you were the princess and I was the common boy, made to feel beautiful for a night.”

   He glanced up at you to gauge your reaction, and he looked so terribly unsure that you wanted to hug him and scream at him not to think so little of himself.    You’d only had this one occasion to see this other side of him. Just a few hours in which he’d let his guard down and allowed you to see him without his armour, so maybe it was too soon to say that you liked him too.

   But in that moment, it wasn’t the months of meeting the stone-faced guardian every time you looked at him, that defined him.    Right then, in front of that fireplace, it was the way he’d held you when you’d danced, and his inviting smile and glittering eyes, that told you who he was and who he could be.    And you really did like that man.

   “You are beautiful, Din. Always,” you said, and watched his eyes turn from unsure to something more difficult to understand.

   But there was confidence in there, and it grew when he couldn’t see any doubt in you. When you kept meeting his eyes with clear honesty, waiting for him to decide what to do with that.    It didn’t take him more than a few seconds, though.    He stepped closer, and took your hand with a careful but determined grip.

   “Can I kiss you again? For real, this time,” he asked, and there was something much bolder in his frame now.

   You just nodded, as it felt like you might break that same magical bubble that seemed to once again encase you both, if you made too loud a sound.    But it was all he needed.    He closed in further, until there was no gap between your chests anymore, letting his free hand find the small of your back to hold you to him as he slowly bent his head forwards.

   You were shorter than him, so you raised your chin to meet him, feeling a tiny shiver of pleasure creep up along your spine when his nose caressed yours on his way to your lips.    A warm breath that smelled of mulled wine and saffron-buns spilled over your face, and then his soft lips took yours in a kiss that was nowhere near as tentative as you’d expected.    Heat flooded your system making you instantly crave more.

   You licked into his mouth and felt him eagerly respond in kind, tasting the many flavours of the foods from the party on his tongue.    Soon you were both straining to get enough air through your noses, as your hearts raced to try and keep up with the building desires, and neither of you wanted to pull away.    But then your phone pinged, breaking the spell and bringing you both back to reality.

   “Sorry,” Din laughed breathlessly against your mouth. “I didn’t mean to take it quite this far. Well… not yet anyway.”

   You hummed a small laugh in return, glancing down at the way he was keeping you pinned against his front, one arm still at the small of your back and the other wrapped around your shoulders.    He took the hint and loosened his grip, still grinning proudly with the knowledge that you hadn’t objected to anything that had just happened.

   “Maybe we should go on a proper date before we go any further,” you suggested, remembering that you didn’t actually know much at all about the man before you, now that your mind was coming out of the haze of desire.

   “Yes. We should,” he agreed, and yet his smile spoke of anything but restraint.

   It was enough for you to know that if you asked, he’d go however far you might want him to that night. But the fact that he didn’t push or try to influence you, also told you that he really would wait if you weren’t comfortable moving that fast.    And that told you that you already knew enough about him to know that you were safe in his arms, no matter what happened next.

   It was close to midnight however, and the only one that would be texting you that late was George, and if you didn’t answer, he’d keep texting and then call.    So, you stepped away from Din and picked your phone out of your pocket and checked the message.

   [No hard feelings about your bail, boo. Hope you had a little fun, at least.]

   That was sweet of him. Even though you’d known that he’d be okay with you sneaking away, you’d expected some pouting. It was just who he was.

   [Thank you, Gee. I did] you responded, just to let him know that you’d gotten home alright and that everything was good.

   [Happy to hear it, my love. And if you want my opinion (which you should) I think Brown Eyes is a keeper.]

   You smiled widely at that, pleased to hear that your best friend had seen the same things that you did. It made this strange fairy-tale evening seem more real.

   [I do too] you answered, and then turned the phone off and threw it on the sofa nearby.

   Returning to the man in question, you let your hands slowly travel up along his arms, over his shoulders and then into his hair, where you gently pulled him towards you, wordlessly asking for another kiss, which he obliged without hesitation.    And when you broke it, leaning your head back just far enough that you could see his eyes, you felt certain that he already knew what you wanted.

   “Take me to my bedroom, Din,” you said, bringing one hand out of his hair to cup his cheek instead, for no reason other than that you felt like it.

   Unexpectedly, his smile softened, and he leaned into your touch as though it was the smoothest silk, closing his eyes in blissful serenity for just a moment.    He was in no rush, despite the heat in his skin or the darkness of his blown pupils. He was simply happy, and content to know that you were too. For the first time since he’d met you.    He kissed you again, much gentler this time, and then proudly squared his shoulders.

   “As you wish, my lady. I believe I know the way.”

THE END

I'm so happy to post new material again, I feel like it's been forever! Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging <3

[ao3feed-ateez]

Scars Heal (At A Gentle Pace)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/6KlDCAE by moonhyun Equivalent exchange was a slick bastard. Hongjoong doesn't think he's given enough. Words: 10054, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: ATEEZ (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho (ATEEZ), Kang Yeosang, Choi San (ATEEZ), Song Mingi (ATEEZ), Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ), Choi Jongho (ATEEZ) Relationships: Kim Hongjoong & Park Seonghwa Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fullmetal Alchemist, Alternate Universe, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Past Injury, Major Character Injury, Automail, Guilt, Survivor Guilt, Crying, Kim Hongjoong is a Mess, Kim Hongjoong Needs a Hug, Park Seonghwa Loves Kim Hongjoong, Alchemist Kim Hongjoong, Automail Mechanic Jeong Yunho, could be seen as romantic or platonic matz, Injury Recovery, Burns, Eye Trauma, Self-Worth Issues, (slaps hongjoong's head) this bad boy can fit so much guilt in him, Not Beta Read read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/6KlDCAE

[sugar--brown]

Look! An excuse to ramble about my comfort characters!

My own headcanon about Carmilla and the mechs is that they real love each other, they really care, but their personnal issues aren't compatible. Let me explain:

Carmilla is a survivor of a toxic relationship (abusive violent vampire level of toxic) and even when getting out, she didn't solved everything. She killed (?) or possibly buried alive (?) the love of her life after she turned into a vampire, destroying her original personnality, during a nuclear/gas war which destroy her home planet. And after that, she had to raise an orphan baby moon (who she looses to the cyberians who will mutile her baby) while coping with the fact she's the only person being immortal in the whole universe. Carmilla isn't fit for getting attached to anyone. At all.

But then... she met kids. Very young adults, barely out of teenager years. And they don't have any good parental figure around. And they suffer. And they die. Tragically and horribly. Jonny was neglected, maybe abused by his dad, and his parental figure asked him to murder his biological father. Nastya lived in an illusion, her family left their people to die and she was brutally murdered by her mentor. Ashes was betrayed by the only person they considered family. Ivy was an orphan. Brian literally forgot anything about family. Toy Soldier was emotionally abused and neglected by the woman who made it. Tim only mentionned one person and it was his best friend. Marius and Raphaella hadn't say anything but Carmilla wasn't around anymore.

So what? Carmilla saw those children and decided to save them. She made them immortals because... could you blame her? Being the only immortal in the whole unicerse is lonely! It's not like she stole something from them, it was over. And what if they disappear just like her love did?! She wouldn’t survived it (she would, tragically). But she isn't fit to be a mother. She lose everything very early in her life, her first child disappeared and when she found her again she was disfigured, she has attachement issues... and she didn't maje them vampires. She could have, but she didn't. Maybe because it was a too terrible fate, or because she was trying to be sure it wouldn’t happen again.

And the mechs? Oh boy! They already have massive issues from the get go. And now they have to deal with theur deaths and the fact they are immortals and subjected to very heavy surgeries. Plus, they have to perceive Carmilla as superior, stronger, smarter... She's the oldest, the one who made them immortals. They are not at their level.

There is a great chance that Carmilla flip flop between very affectionnate and completly cold toward her children, fearing to be too much or not enough. Meanwhile, the mechs are too inexperimented to understand, so, they lashed out. Just like they always did for surviving. None them can help the other heal. Because their issues mixed together create a gap that no one can cross.

So! What happened? How did Carmilla left? My idea is that she realized how bad it was for everyone. Being airlocked was one thing (I mean... they have a verse in Drunk Space Pirate where they state they do that when one of them is drunk), being seeing the children she saved... hell! HER children walking on eggshells around her is horrible for her.

She left. On her own.

After all, the mechs have each others now. And Aurora was in good hands. Nothing good would happen if she stayed around. She needed to let them grow and evolve on their own terms. So she just left, roght after mechanizing Tim.

But why the mechs never told us that? Because they are dramaqueens. We know they are liars, cheaters and they love good stories. Saying "our mom left because we were unable to correctly bond with her because we have family issues despite the fact she saved us" isn't a good story. It's way more interesting and fun to say someone pushed her, it's a mystery and it's probably Jonny who did it.

BUT! Since I'm a sucker for fluff, it's not the end of my headcanon. We know the mechs only tell tragic stories because that's what they like the most. We know that they have stories with happy endings but never tell them. And...

There is The Ignominious Demise of Dr. Pilchard.

This one of my favourite songs, but it's also a very interesting one for the lore. We don't have much proper mechs lore. A few backstory songs, an exchange between Jonny and Nastya in once upon a time in space, a bit in The Bifrost Incident, some short fiction... But really, we don't know much about their day to day life, especially their life with Carmilla. We have some old show records, some statements made by the actors...

But Dr. Pilchard's song? Oh boy! Everyone is at least mentionned! Even Marius and Raphaella are here. Even Carmilla is mentionned. When Pilchard goes to find the secret of immortality with the indication of Brian, Jonny calls where he goes the "doc's lab". Not the "doc's ex-lab" or the "lab the doc used". Just the "doc's lab". It would be nothing, until we hear what Pilchard said when entering the lab. "I don't want this" and the next is not clear because it could be "keep IT away from me" or "keep away from me" or "keep HER away from me". BUT! He continues with "stay back". So whatever it is, it's moving toward him. It can't be one of the mechs because they are all "incapacitate" line stated earlier. And Jonny said "you send him alone and unarmed", so he knew there was something dangerous in the lab.

Sure, it could be anything attacking him. A monster, a machine... BUT! Pilchard also said "life... eternity... I don't want this gift!", he's talking to someone! He learnt new thkngs about immortality and is horrified! So if it was a monster, he wouldn’t have the time to learn these informations. And if it was a machine, he wouldn’t have activated it. Plus! This something disposed of the body because Nastya says at the end "And we never saw him again." The mechs didn't have to clean up after.

Everything points to the fact that there is someone in the lab. The doc's lab. And the only sentient being still free at the moment is Aurora, who can only communicate with Nastya, and... Carmilla. Which is logical since it's HER lab.

So, The Ignominious Demise of Dr Pilchard gives us the conclusion of the story between the mechs and Carmilla: she came back aboard, lives with them, met Marius and Raphaella, they are aware and not very affraid of her presence, and she's ready to go to great lengths to protect them. And it's a wonderful ending for their found family.

Tldr: Dr. Carmilla and The Mechanisms had a bad start in their familial relationship but they healed and were able to make amends and currently live together again.

Jonny d’ville (or according to auto correct Jonny shovel) didn’t want to kill the doctor

But he’d spent years with her years to know that her brand of caring is painful and know that she pushes them and one day she’ll push too far

he doesn’t care if it’s him but he needs to protect his crew the doctor had taught him that herself he’s the first mate it’s his job

Jonny obviously couldn’t do this alone it’s the doctor what could he do, he went to Aurora with a half plan of pushing her out the airlock, he went to her because she could over ride anything if she wanted and he needed her on the same page which wasn’t hard she’d seen all the same things Jonny had felt the same with slight variations

Jonny found the doctor when she was meditating in the airlock distracted and pushed her out

Now Jonnys involvement was obvious to the whole crew but the auroras will be taken to both of their graves

(I’m sorry for rambling so much I though this was gonna be a mini headcanon to send but it go so long)

Ooooh thats very clever the way you worded that

[piastrinorris]

17 from the fluff prompts with Eddie please!

+ also tagging @hellfirehoe ❤️

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader (no pronouns/gendered terms)

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1425 (i know, i know, i said no 4-digit WCs but you'll see it was all needed)

Eddie had insisted that he doesn't want a birthday party. He never has, and he never will. An evening sitting around a fire with good friends, cold beer, and some of his little lunchbox's prime selection was more than enough of a celebration for him.

And yet, something about that never sat right with you. Sure, a boy goes through his teenage dirtbag phase and stops wanting children's-level birthday parties, but to have never wanted one? That's gotta be a lie.

While Eddie's at an extra credit class, you still go to the trailer. Wayne greets you with an, "Oh, hey, kiddo. Uh, Ed's not here right now, but you're more than welcome to wait, I can take an extra pizza out of the freezer if you want?"

"I'm good, thanks," you smile, "I'm actually here to see you. It's about Eddie's birthday."

"Ah, are you looking for ideas on what to get him?" Wayne calls out to you, head deep in the freezer compartment of his refrigerator.

"No, no, I already found him the perfect gift at a ren faire, I'm all good on that front," you nod.

"It's not a ring, is it?" Wayne smirks, and you scoff.

"No! Besides, wouldn't that be his job?"

"I dunno," Wayne shrugs. "He's always been unconventional. Plus, if it gets you into the family quicker..." he points to you and you laugh.

"It'll happen someday, Wayne, I'm sure of it." Your reassurance lights up his face. You love how much he loves his nephew. "So, I thought about throwing him a part-"

Wayne sucks a breath in. "That's a bad move, kid. He doesn't do that."

"I know, but why?"

"Well," Wayne takes a deep breath in. "He was turning 6, and he'd never had one. So I told him I'd throw him one, however he wanted. He wasn't living with me, mind, but y'know. A boy can't go six years without one party. Anyway, Eddie being Eddie, kid goes ham. Makes a whole scrapbook. He wanted his party to be a - a story he played out. Kings and knights and monsters, you know the drill. Anyway, he was out front writing in his book when some of the... Less savoury kids came up and took it straight from him. Threw it in a puddle and called him names for months. He never wanted one after that."

"Wayne," you start in a serious tone, "I'm going to make it my mission to invent time travel, just to boot those little shits right in their faces."

"Good," Wayne grins. "You know... I did manage to salvage his little book... You wanna see it?"

Your face lights up, "Please!"

He gets you the book, pages stained and stiff from being soaked, dried and abandoned for years. Ideas buzz in your head, and you excuse yourself to quickly head to wherever you could start writing your own notes.

~~~

"Babe, you know I just wanted things to be casual today," Eddie groans from the passenger seat of your car.

"I know! And I said you need to trust me!" you retort.

Eddie side-eyes you. "My idea of an ideal birthday, amazingly, doesn't exactly include me hanging out at Steve's big ol' mansion."

"Given the way you two make googly eyes at each other, you could have fooled me," you grin, and Eddie flips you off affectionately. You bat his hand away with a laugh. "Besides, this isn't Steve's mansion."

As you pull up, Eddie sees that Steve's front gate is covered up with cardboard. Specifically, cardboard cut and painted to look like castle walls. As you stop the car and get out, Eddie follows far slower, mouthing, "What the fuck?"

As you walk into the driveway, Steve approaches you both, wearing a crown made of cardboard and a cape made of the Wheelers' old curtains. "By the heavens! Is that Sir Edward I see?!" You initially thought that casting Steve as the king in this scenario was hilariously fitting, but his idea of acting is just shouting his words.

Eddie tries desperately not to let the laugh bubbling at his lips escape them. "Um, sure?"

"Why, it can't be! Mine own knights will fall to their knees at the sight of such a legend, returned at last! And in our hour of need, too! I fear the Curse of Monsterkind has fallen upon my kingdom! Only a knight such as you could save us!" Steve shouts. "With your trusted bard by your side to write songs of your victories, no less!"

Eddie looks at you and cocks his eyebrow. You shrug, "I had to insert myself somewhere into this narrative. Recognise it?"

Eddie's face falls into a soft smile. "I love you so much." He leans in as though to kiss you, but Steve interrupts with an improvised monotonous yell to progress the game.

"Are thou both ready to face the plague, or are thou still being gross?"

You watch with delight as Eddie slays the "troll" (Mike with his hair sprayed in all directions) with a cardboard sword that his "most faithful follower" (Max dressed up just like Eddie) had "kept hold of for all these years"; helps the "witch" (Nancy wearing an old Halloween outfit) find ingredients to a love potion that, once made, he had to secretly slide into the "knight's" (Robin's) "armour" (cardboard outfit wrapped in aluminium foil); and answers the "centaur's" (Dustin, who had fought long and hard for his role, in front of Lucas wearing half a costume horse) riddles to gain spellcasting abilities.

Despite this all being part of his own story, Eddie still reacts at the big twist being that the king had placed the curse all along, hoping it would attract and indeed kill the famed Sir Edward the Freak. You join in with Nancy, Robin, Max and Dustin (with Lucas in tow) clapping and yelling encouragements as Eddie delights in swinging his sword around and pretending to cast spells. Mike, not wanting to break character, remains where he lay "dead", but even he can't resist watching. You can almost see Eddie's inner child bursting out of him. It almost makes you cry.

Finally, Eddie lays the final blow into King Steve the Cursebringer, who very dramatically falls to the ground and gasps many a final breath before stopping. The remaining crowd cheers for Sir Eddie the Hero, but he grins. "No, no. I shall wear my old name with honour. Sir Eddie the Freak!" He holds his fake sword high above his head, and the rest of you repeat after him in a chant.

He starts to well up, and at looking down to make eye contact with you, he pulls you into the tightest of hugs, sobbing ever so gently into your shoulder. "I love you... Eternally for this," he whispers shakily in your ear, pressing a kiss just below it.

You squeeze him, "You too, Eds. I'm so glad you enjoyed that. Now, you ready for your prize for defeating the big bad guy?"

Eddie smirks, "Is it the hand of my beautiful sidekick?"

"Must thou continue to be gross even as I lay dead?" Steve shouts again in that monotone, making everyone laugh.

"Shut up and stand up, Steve, and go get my present, wherever you put it," you command. He gets up to run into his house, quickly reappearing with a long box. Eddie's eyes light up with how big it is.

He tears the wrapping paper off excitedly, like a kid at Christmas, but looks confused when the box comes into view. "A vacuum cleaner. Are you trying to tell me something?" he asks, half-amused and half-confused.

You laugh, "It was the only box that fit it. C'mon, I'm getting impatient!"

He opens up the box and gasps, loud, dramatic, Eddie. He looks at you with an ecstatic excitement, beaming as he slowly brandishes the metal sword you'd bought for him months ago. "You bought me a sword?! Oh man, I am gonna be so dangerous!" His eyes light up with a mischief you've never seen in them before.

Steve laughs nervously as he drops the box, "Uhh, hey, Eddie, it's just me, remember! Your g-good pal, ol' Steve Harrington. No curses or anything here!"

Eddie's grip tightens on the sword as he holds it upright, grinning wickedly at Steve. "Get to running, big boy."

You laugh as you watch Steve run away in panic, followed by the love of your life chasing after him while laughing maniacally, finally having the birthday he always deserved.