#when i was growing up all i hoped for was that i would live a normal life once i grew up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venusincleo · 3 days ago

Text

Time. iii.

Part One [i]. ♡ Part Two [ii].

Warnings: MDNI • Explicit • Aaron Pierre x Black!Reader, smoking, a lil angst, a lil fluff, teasing, p in v, creampie, slight overstimulation, pet names, DDLG kink, BDSM themes, Soft!Aaron, omniscient POV and more...

BKG/Summary: As you and Aaron maintain your budding love in your long distance relationship, your respective careers continue to grow exponentially. Your writing has picked up wonderfully, and your newest work is to hit local shelves with pre-orders out for delivery. When there is a snag in production and they print the wrong cover, fans are rightfully mad but have no one to blame but you. To help cope with the stress, you call Aaron, hoping that he can talk you down but as he's busy himself, all you get is solutions. To make up for his lack of sensitivity to a moment that may very well be formative to your career, he gets a one way flight to see you.

Word Count: 3.8k❣

A/N: ✴︎Happy New Year!✴︎ Tell me how you liked this one 💗 also... i ain't do my last proofread so keep it cute please 😚🫶🏾

• • •

right now i need your loving, one way flight ain't nothin'... - NYL by Phabo

Light smoke billowed from your lips, taking the color of the bronze sky as you blew it out of your large window. Your eyes low and your mind clear, you gazed into the horizon, thanking God for the beauty He had painted ions ago. You gazed along the limited foliage and bustling street underneath your apartment building, and couldn’t help giggling at the fact that everything seemed to be orange under the filter of the sunset.

As your mind was numbed from any of the day's events, you thought back to the person you would have loved to share this moment with. Earlier in your hectic day, you had called him for some relief from life’s unexpected symptoms but you did not get the reaction you desired. Wise but stern motivations took the place of the gentle words you thought you were sure to receive.

Then, your yearning tone turned defensive, and that was not pretty. Before you knew it, you and Aaron had had a small spat about his tone, and then you were hanging up in his face.

It wasn’t like you needed him to make things better, but you at least hoped that he would love on you enough for you to see the solution for yourself. Instead, he made it seem like he was too busy to handle your emotions in the moment, like he was unable to make the time. Though, two short minutes of affirmations would have sufficed, no doubt.

Now, you were okay with not speaking to him for the rest of the day. You wanted to feel your high for as long as humanly possible.

With a levitating sway of your hips, you allowed your bare feet to usher you back into your living room, your patterned maxi dress flowing behind you as you turned up your speaker. As Jhene Aiko’s voice heightened in volume, you rolled your body to her sensual lyrics, joint in the air.

'Let’s go half on a son, how far do you wanna go? Ohhhhh…'

Just as you brought your herb back to your lips to take in a long puff, your phone rang, interrupting the music. Breathing out the smoke quickly, you rush to your phone, ready to decline the call when you see the contact photo. Aaron.

A deep sigh rushes past your lips as you press the green button, taking a drag from your j as you see the call connecting. Distracted by nothing in particular, Aaron’s eyes take a moment to focus on your face through the screen, but once he does, he scoffs in near disbelief.

“I see you found an outlet.” His deep voice is littered with droplets of venom, and you roll your eyes as you breathe out the smoke you were holding.

“I would much rather have something else for that but, here I am.” You are involuntarily calm, your logical mind wanting to give him back what he was dishing. But physically, the effects of the weed wouldn’t even allow you to be phased. You were just…there.

“Anyways, did you call for something or what? Cause I’m busy…” You bend down to your coffee table to ash your joint in your pretty glass tray, and then your red eyes meet Aaron’s on your FaceTime. He hears a hint of reciprocation of the energy he gave you this morning, and his eyes soften, his natural pout a bit more defined.

“Uh, yeah…I’m outside.” Without much thought to his words, you smack your teeth, and look at your j, examining the neatly rolled herb inside.

“Okay, nigga.” All he can do is chuckle at your reaction, and you look at your screen to see what’s so funny.

“No, I’m really,” He begins, and then you hear three knocks echoing on either side of your phone. “Outside.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you set your joint down in your tray and go to your front door. A quick glance through your peephole is all it takes to see Aaron’s large frame waiting right on the other side, and you instantly hang up the phone. After unlocking it, you swing your door open and meet Aaron’s eyes.

Every feeling that you had been avoiding bubbled up quickly, like seeing him was the last straw. Shit. You cursed yourself internally. You didn’t want to fold under his intense blue eyes, but as his softened demeanor waits to be welcomed in, tears sting at the sides of your eyes. Blinking to try and keep the waterworks at bay, you step aside and allow a space for him to make his entrance, looking off into the distance of your apartment.

Once he steps in, and waits for you to close your door, he watches you turn on your heel to face him. Soft steps in your direction lead him to the space right in front of you, and he leans his head down to be face to face with you.

“Come here.” His English accent sticks to his deep voice, and he places his hands on your hips to pull you in closer. You almost allow him to hug you, but as he begins to nestle his face in your neck, you reach your hands up to push him away from you.

“No. You hurt me, Aaron.” He keeps his stature, silently flexing his strength over you, but he moves back a little to try and respect your wishes. The tears continue to flood your eyes, but at this point, you don’t care anymore. You want him to see how he made you feel, you need him to.

Seeing you so upset with him makes Aaron’s chest tighten with worry. It wasn’t his intention to make you cry, it never was. But he couldn’t help but notice the tears threatening to spill over your lower lid at any moment.

“Y/N, please. I’m sorry.” His tone is soft, maybe the softest it’s been all day, and you find yourself looking up into his slightly upturned eyes. You want to kiss him so bad, just say ‘fuck it’ to all the points you had in mind to make to him. But you had to at least bring up the most pressing one, your mind wouldn’t allow you to forget it.

“Aaron, I-…” You begin, shaking your head as you try to form your words in a neutral way. A tear falls onto your cheek as you find just what you want to convey.

“You won’t always be able to pop up on me like this; phone calls are our primary form of communication right now. If you’re too busy for calls then maybe we should rethink this relationship.”

“I’m not too busy for your phone calls, Y/N. Today was just a bit stressful for me too but, I had no right to take that out on you.” His hands rub at your sides as he gazes into your eyes. “Truly, I apologize.”

A moment of quiet falls between the two of you, and you take in a deep breath, releasing it into the room.

“Thank you.” Your voice was near a whisper, as you took in his second apology. Comfortable now, that the two of you were on the same page, even if only for tonight, you reach your arms around Aaron’s neck, peering up into his pretty eyes yet again. Instantly, he pulls your body into his and brings his hand to your face to wipe your fallen tear.

A lush peck laces the lack of space between each of your lips, and then finally Aaron gets the hug that he yearned for. His strong arms squeeze around your body as he rests his head in the space of your shoulder and his large hands find their ways to the skin of your back. You feel his supple lips on your neck and you breathe in slowly, smelling the distinct scent of his luxury cologne mixed in with his pheromones. Your mouth nearly waters at the perfection of the warm, clean notes of his fragrance.

"I don't like seeing you cry, pretty girl." He rasps against your neck, sending tingles down your spine.

"I know." You run a dainty hand down his neck, along his shoulder and bicep, squeezing at the toned muscle. Mmm.

"Not unless Papa is making you feel that good." He trails his hands down your body, resting at your plump ass to give it a squeeze. Hearing your whispered gasp at his gesture, he brings his face back parallel to yours so he can see your expression.

Doe eyes stare up into his lowered ones, the energy in the room long past shifted, and waiting to be acted upon.

"You want me to make you feel good?" Your eyes flicker from his lowered gaze to his full pink lips, your vision shadowed by your long eyelashes.

“Yes.” As your vision is fixed on his pretty mouth, Aaron leans forward to seemingly give you what you want. But just when your lips get close, he pulls away, his intense glare demanding your attention.

Looking up into his eyes yet again, you press your body further into his, craving so desperately to feel his kiss. Instead of a kiss though, Aaron brings a strong hand to your shoulders, pushing your lovely black kinks out of his way. Sure enough, his tender hand wraps around your neck tautly, and he pulls your face right up to his.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” His chest rises and falls quicker as he watches your lips purse to reply to him.

“I want you to make love to me.” He closes in on your lips but when your eyes don’t leave his, he waits just a moment for your other requests.

“Start slow.” Your tone is breathy as you express just what you wanted and needed from your night. The ghost of a grin plays at Aaron’s lips, and then they finally connect with yours.

He parts his mouth almost instantly, the fulfilled desire of your tongue on his causing a soft moan to escape his lips. You aimlessly fight for balance, your tongues playing a tug of war you were okay with losing as long as it continued. Aaron’s hold on your neck stays firm for a few moments later, and then he slowly lets you go, bringing his strong hands to your ass through your flowing dress.

Your sure hands move to his shoulders to push his suit jacket off of his frame, and his arms leave your body to pull the tweed fabric off of him rather quickly. He throws his jacket to the side with no real regard for where it lands, and soon, his arms are back around you.

Aaron lifts you like you’re nothing, allowing your body to straddle his waist as he holds you up by your thighs. You don’t disconnect for any longer than a second, as you continue to press your needy kiss into his thick lips, feeling his hungry reciprocation. As you focus on the warm breath filling the space between your lips, and the secure hold you’re in, your body can’t help but react, your natural lubrication easing from between your thighs.

“Mm.” You grind your body against his, the friction of the clothes between you both being just enough to stimulate your throbbing clit. You whine against his lips, and he pulls away from the kiss to see your flustered face, as you bite your lip.

Seeing just how dire it is for you to feel something right now, Aaron carries you to your couch, where he lays you down softly. He lays over you as you keep your eyes locked on him, bringing a hand to your cheek as he presses his lips back into yours. As he delivers one of his slow, torturously enticing kisses, he rubs his hardened shaft against your heated core, grinding his hips against yours through your clothes.

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel yourself get wetter because of his efforts, and energy rushes through your body.

“Fuck, baby.” You breathe out, nearly being overcome with the feeling of him grinding into you. A deep breath leaves Aaron’s vocal cords in a gruff, stuttered tone, and he rubs himself against you just once more, pulling back just slightly to reach up your dress for your panties. But, when he feels nothing but your plush skin, he blinks slowly as he tries to contain his excitement.

As he takes his time pushing your dress up your body to reveal your moisturized melanin, his eyes trail past your hips, your navel, your torso and your chest to meet your pretty brown eyes yet again. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheek as you watch him intently, having a hint of an idea of what he’s about to do.

Gently, he tugs at the airy fabric of the dress you are barely wearing now, and his eyes turn stormy with desire.

“Take this off.”

You obey quickly, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it to the floor beside the couch. When your eyes meet his again, he lets a moment pass before he’s tugging his chocolate brown shirt off of his own body, revealing his soft, honey-toned skin and the rippled muscles under it. Your eyes instantly attach to the greek sculpture of his body, and you bite your lip absentmindedly as you caress his limbs with your gaze.

Under your longing specs, Aaron only leans himself forward, his body drawn to the thought of your willful and wanton touch. Catching on to his wants now, you sit up and allow your hands to grasp onto his waist, pulling him into you tenderly as your eyes flicker up to view his face.

Almost completely overtaken by the needs of your flesh, you place a series of supple kisses along Aaron’s abs. Your eyes don’t leave his stare as you decorate his skin with small pecks, teasing him just a little. But as his mind is dead set on how pretty your face is from this angle –and the tingles that erupt underneath his skin wherever your delicate hands are holding him– soft moans sneak through his lips.

Your skin heats at every moan, as they get more and more pronounced, and you get a bit sloppier with your technique. Instead of the innocent feather-light kisses you were delivering before, you part your lips to widen your kiss along his skin. Your wet kisses sound in the quiet room, ad-libbing over the music that had started back up on its own some time ago. The song you make is just enough to make Aaron even harder, and his whispered sounds of pleasure harmonize perfectly with your energy.

“Lay back.” He keeps his composure the best he can, his mind swirling with thoughts of you taking control of him and doing whatever you wanted. Yet, as you layed against the yielding cushions of your couch, luscious brown skin glistening underneath the dim light in your living room, all he knew is the only place he wanted to be, was with you. And he’d be damned if he messed it up over a phone call.

Slow hands reached for the button of his pants, and he took his time undoing the fastens that kept the fabric up on his hips. His movements sped up just a little as he got the pants off of his legs, and across the room, out of the way. The black breifs that once decorated his lower body are close behind, and then it’s just you and him.

Aaron’s kisses start at your feet, feather-light, gentle. He allows himself whatever pacing he found reasonable, for cherishing every piece of you. His lips trail up your calve, his large hand holding your leg in place as he nuzzles his nose in your skin to smell the luscious lotions you had put on hours earlier. As he gives the same amount of attention to your other leg, his kiss tender as ever as he memorizes every detail of your skin down to tracing scars, you can see just what his intentions are.

Your eyes water just a little as you watch him make a mental note of all of your details, goosebumps raising along your skin as he runs his strong hand along every inch. A gasp leaves your lips as the dopamine surging through your veins makes way for your skin to be even more heated, more pliable, more sensitive to his touch. He looks up for a moment to check in and when he sees your beautiful eyes staring back at him, a small grin raises on his lips.

The smile falls as he kisses up each of your thighs, the puddle between them worsening as he got closer. His lips fall onto the side of your thighs, traveling to your hips and the stretch marks that came with your grown woman weight. He caressed the skin adoringly, littering smaller kisses on each stripe of lighter skin he found. The breath caught in your throat as you thought of the implications of his doting actions, and the tears that had welled in your eyes were threatening to spill over.

“Aaron..” You called for him in a near-cry. Instantly, he brought his face right in front of yours, and you ran your hands along his shoulders, pulling him between your legs. His thick lips captured yours without any direction, and you kissed back eagerly, your manicured digits easing into the short curls on the back of his head. He drags the kiss on for a few more seconds, readying himself at your slick opening. When you feel his thick tip easing in just slightly, you wrap your legs around his waist tightly, trying to brace yourself for his length.

“You are so special to me, Y/N.” He mumbles against your lips before he pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I don’t ever want you to feel like I don’t care.” You reach your hand up to cup his cheek, as he continues to speak his heart to you.

“I love you, Y/N.” Aaron gives your lips a lush peck before he presses his forehead against yours, easing his throbbing cock into your wetness. You growl softly at the familiar feeling, a slight pressure reminding you of your first time together.

“Mmh, I love you too.” You whine, feeling him pull back out slowly, to thrust once again before he caught a swifter rhythm. All you can do is draw in more air, your exhales laced with high pitched exclamations of unexpected bliss.

“Daddy’s so sorry, princess.” He goes to nestle his face in the crook of your neck as he continues to make love to you a bit recklessly. Your breathing gets faster, your chest heaving up and down as you feel your climax rushing through your soma.

“Aghhh.” You squeal lightly, throwing your head back at the overwhelming feeling of his thickness going in and out, in and… out…in…and…out. Aaron recognizes your falsetto-esc moans, and leaves kisses on your ear before he whispers to you.

“Ugh, this alright?” He asks, his deep moans doing nothing but making it worse for you to concentrate on breathing right.

“Yes, baby… Shittttt…ugh y- so thick.” You almost hoped that he would take it easier on you, but Aaron had no such plans. His strong hands reached to your legs that were crossed behind his back, and pushed them up so that your knees touched your chest.

Carefully, he pulled out of you, staring down at your connection and the tracings of your pussy juices that decorated your folds, and his entire length. A gravelly moan leaves his vocal cords as he slides back into your opening, you welcoming him in with the tightest fit, and your eyebrows turn upward at such a fill.

“Fuckkk. I’m ‘bout to cum, baby.” Your whiny confession is followed by a hearty moan, and then you cover Aaron in your essence, dripping down your cunt to the couch beneath you, and circling his cock in the process. He slows down just a little bit, though he has no intentions of stopping, and leans toward you to give you the most silken kiss. Then, as he pulls away from your lips, gazing down into your eyes, he thrusts at this new, slower rhythm.

“Mmh, pussy so good.” A growl laced his mumbled words, as he fought the urge to pick up the pace even slightly. With rushed, panting breaths, he reached his hand up to your neck and grasped it just tight enough.

You feel a jump in the pit of your stomach as he works your core, effectively digging yet another nut out of you. As you feel just a little overstimulated, you reach up to his hand that is wrapped around your neck, and hold his wrist in place. You wouldn't dare tell him to stop. But it was so much, and he was so girthy... you didn't know how much more you could take.

Eyes glossy, you let in a deep breath, hoping to regulate yourself but instead, all you do is moan out loudly. You throw your head back yet again, this time unintelligible whimpers and mumbles leave your mouth, and a tear runs down the side of your face.

"A-Aaron." You croak quietly, grabbing at his hips with your free hand. You find yourself grasping at any flesh of his that is visible to your hazy eyes, and he just sighs in delight.

He bites his lip to try and stifle his own cries but moans slip through his teeth so eloquently, you can tell he's close. His strokes never falter; they just get sturdier, firmer. Soon, he's squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment to hold on for as long as he can.

With a few more thrusts and a couple more loud moans, he was releasing all of his gooey, warm elixir right inside of you.

“Ohh.” You breathe out tiredly, another wave rushing over you in your trembling climax.

Aaron pulls out of you tenderly now, hearing your combined moisture sound lewdly in the room. When he saw the mixture ease from your slightly stretched opening, he smiled boyishly and placed a kiss on your forehead and then your lips. You hum lovingly, revelling in the feeling of him giving you the soft Aaron you'd craved all day.

The two of you share a quiet beat, just trying to catch your breaths. And then a resolution pops into your head.

“I need this every day. Every once in a while ain’t cutting it.” You express, still catching your breath from your great session. He chuckles at your forwardness, and pecks your lips yet again as he thinks about how he could make such a request happen for you.

“Then maybe…I move closer…?” He ventures, just a bit unsure. With sparkling eyes, and a hand to his cheek you assure his suggestion with a bit of levity.

“Maybe you should.”

• • •

I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

MDNI Banner by @renyanovyn

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#aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x reader #black fanfic writer #my fic #smutty fanfiction #smutty smut smut #18+ mdni #18 + only #mdni

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bellaxgiornata · 3 days ago

Text

Under the Influence

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.8k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: Drunken Confession

Warnings/tags: 18+; Fluff, light humor, drunk Reader, pining

Summary: Drunk after a girl's night out, you accidentally slip up about your feelings for Matt.

a/n: This fic is literally months overdue, but it was written and I finally was able to edit it and share. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Stumbling into your apartment, you felt far less capable of walking in the heels you’d put on earlier than when you'd first slipped them on and left to grab drinks with your friends. But tonight's girl's night out with everyone had been long overdue with how constantly busy everyone had been, which meant you'd accidentally gone a little overboard with the drinks. In all honesty, you’d drank a bit more than you usually did whenever you went out with Foggy, Marci, Karen, and Matt to Josie’s on your usual Thursday night outs. So now, admittedly, you were a bit drunk.

Slipping out of your heels after you shut your apartment door, you balanced yourself with a hand against the wall. The room around you spun ever so slightly and you tried to blink away the sensation, focusing on removing the uncomfortable shoes from your aching feet one at a time. It had been so long that you’d forgotten just how painful it was to go out drinking and dancing in heels. Shoving your shoes to the side with a foot once they were off, you pushed yourself off of the wall and nearly tripped over your own feet in the process of turning around.

“Far, far too much alcohol,” you mumbled to yourself.

Barefoot, you sluggishly padded your way over to the kitchen and stopped in front of your fridge, pulling the door open to retrieve a bottle of water from the side door. You twisted off the cap, letting the fridge door fall softly shut as you drew the bottle up to your lips. Beginning to chug the cold liquid down in the hopes that it would help to ease your growing headache, you closed your eyes and internally begged the room to spin less–or at least slower.

Lowering the bottle from your lips, you wiped the back of your other hand across your damp mouth, feeling your exhaustion from the evening beginning to finally settle into you. But just as your body had begun to relax, a sound from outside your living room window quickly caught your attention and caused your eyes to snap back open. Growing alert, your head darted over your shoulder in a delayed response, the room once more spinning in your vision as you squinted at where you thought you’d heard the noise. Another metal groan from your fire escape met your ears and a brief surge of fear rushed through you.

“No need to panic,” Matt's familiar and somewhat muffled voice called out from behind the glass. “It’s just me.”

You almost immediately relaxed at the sight of him rising to his full height on the dark fire escape. Expelling a soft sigh of relief, a little smile slipped its way onto your lips next, thrilled that he was here even if you hadn’t been expecting a visit from your masked best friend this evening.

“Why’re you out there?” you called back.

“Because I'm…on patrol?” he answered through the glass.

Your grin grew wider as you turned more fully towards the window in your living room, the red form of him more noticeable with how he was standing on your fire escape just beside your window, the faint light from inside your apartment washing over him. Or rather washing over the two red forms of him, but you assumed the second was due to the alcohol in your system and not the sudden existence of a second Daredevil.

“You can come in,” you called out again, taking a few unsteady steps towards the window before immediately halting and grabbing onto your kitchen counter to steady yourself. “‘S’always unlocked for you,” you slurred out. “Unless you're–you're waiting for me to play you a theme song to enter to.”

“Theme song?” Matt’s confused voice called back.

“Y’know,” you continued, an amused grin pulling at your lips, “like if–if superheroes had a theme song or…something.”

You caught the sound of his laughter from out on your fire escape, the noise drawing forth a warm, pleasant feeling in your chest. You loved making him laugh.

“I’m not even going to ask what you’d suggest that would be right now,” he called back.

Teetering unsteadily on your feet, one hand still clutching the kitchen counter to keep yourself upright as your other hand still held onto the cold bottle of water, you giggled at the idea as he raised your window wide enough to climb through. The first song that came to mind was “Birthday Cake” by Rihanna, most likely due to it having been one of the last songs playing before you left the bar tonight, but also because you’d noticed how nice of an ass Matt had from the moment you met him–even if that was not what the song was about. Though the idea of him easily slipping through your window right now as that song played had you biting your bottom lip and fighting down a laugh. But of course Matt's sensitive ears still caught the sound, his head darting up before he smiled in your direction. A pang of sadness punched you in the gut at the sight of his charming smile beneath his cowl.

Why was he only your friend?

“Keeping this unlocked just for me?” he asked, righting himself in your living room before turning and closing the window after himself, shutting the sounds of the city back out of your apartment. “I'm touched but also now greatly concerned about your safety,” he teased as he focused back on you. “You're just on the third floor, don't assume I'm the only one willing to risk climbing up that.”

Your eyes followed the movement of his gloved hand, watching as he gestured at the fire escape behind himself. Before you had a chance to respond, the sound of his voice drew your vision back to the red lenses of his cowl, your hand gripping the counter even tighter in your grasp.

“But a theme song?” he asked in amusement. “Really? How much have you had to drink tonight?”

You laughed lightly, the thought of that particular song being the theme song for Matt's alter ego becoming more entertaining by the second.

“You're so dramatic,” you teased back, your words slurring together a bit as you ignored that little ache in your chest at the continued sight of his handsome smile. “You'd definitely have a theme song playing as you enter places.”

His head cocked curiously to the side at your comment and you couldn’t resist the grin at the sight. You always thought his head tilts were adorable; the way he listened closer to what you were saying often reminded you of a dog. The image of him on all fours hovering over you in bed briefly surfaced in your mind at the thought and you felt your pulse accelerate. Faintly through the haze of alcohol you caught the briefest twitch of his lips before he was speaking again.

“Excuse me, but, dramatic?” he shot back.

His voice quickly pulled you back from the mental image in your mind and you felt your face growing flushed. You hoped he’d blame the alcohol for the shift in your body as you nodded, the movement causing Matt to once more double in your vision.

“Yeah, I mean you–you're wearing a costume, Matt,” you said as you gestured at him. “That's pretty dramatic.”

He placed a hand against his chest, your eyes following the movement. You knew how strong and solid that chest was from the few times you'd had an excuse to hug him, but now you were itching to place your hand against it, too. Or to run your hand along the mysterious material of his tight-fitting suit in general.

“This is armor,” he pointed out simply. “It's not a costume.”

His voice once more drew you out of your thoughts, your attention returning to his mouth. The earnestness in his words had you biting your lip and fighting back another giggle. You noticed his smile had grown at the sound, his ears having still caught the noise.

“Matt, it–it has horns,” you countered, biting back a smile.

The corner of his lip twitched at your comment. “Fair point,” he agreed. “But you are drunk.”

“And that–” you said, swinging a finger towards his chest, “–is a poor change of topic.”

His head further canted to the side, his lips straightening along his face. “From the ever so important costume discussion?” he asked.

“No,” you said, setting your half-empty water bottle down and taking a step towards him. You stumbled and threw a hand out, catching yourself on the counter beside yourself with it again. “From why you're here.”

An amused chuckle rumbled out of him and you swore the sound itself vibrated through your entire body. Dammit, you would never cease loving being the cause of his laughter, even if somewhere in your mind you were aware he was laughing at you a little right now.

“Sweetheart,” he began, “we weren't discussing that even remotely. I can’t change the subject from a subject we weren't even on in the first place. I mean I know I smelt the alcohol on you from the sidewalk but…you’re far drunker than I anticipated.”

A heat ignited in your stomach at the term of endearment Matt occasionally threw out at you, your ears hardly hearing much else he’d said. Matt and you had only ever been friends, and in the years you'd known him he'd never called anyone else ‘sweetheart’ before–at least, not from what you'd ever heard. It both confused and excited you every time he called you that, the term slipping out of his mouth almost as if by accident each time.

“I uhm,” you began, pausing as your inebriated brain tried to catch up. “I may have…drank quite a bit tonight.”

Matt expelled a breathy laugh, one hand finally reaching up to remove the cowl from his head. You watched with bated breath as his handsome face revealed itself to you in the dim light of your living room. His other gloved hand reached up, combing through his dark strands of hair. Your heart clenched at the sight of how beautiful he was–as if you needed the reminder right now when you were about to go to sleep alone and drunk.

“I know,” Matt told you.

He took a step towards your coffee table and placed the cowl down on it, the gesture so casual that you wished it happened more often. Licking your lips nervously, you forced your gaze to return to Matt’s face once he began speaking again.

“You mentioned going out tonight, so I figured I’d make sure you got home safe,” he told you. “It wasn’t a busy night so I came up to check on you once I noticed just how much you smelled like alcohol. Wanted to make sure you were doing alright.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, surprised at his concern. “You–you didn’t have to…”

He grinned back, shrugging a shoulder. “I know,” he agreed. “I wanted to.” His expression shifted to something softer, his eyes focusing down on your body. “You sound very tired though. Maybe you should get to bed?”

Nodding your head, the room once more spun around you as you tried to push away that part of your brain which was still stuck on the way he’d called you ‘sweetheart.’ There was a nagging thought somewhere in your brain telling you that him showing up like this was something he never did for your other friends. Instead of focusing on that, you took a few steps towards your living room in an attempt to make it to your bedroom, but you swayed so much that your foot caught along a floorboard and began your inevitable drunk descent to the floor.

Matt immediately darted forward as you'd begun to fall, his gloved hands catching you by the shoulders in a tight grip before you'd gotten too far. Your hands instinctively flew up in response, grabbing onto Matt’s biceps to further steady yourself as your eyes snapped shut, a wave of dizziness rolling through you. Somewhere in your mind, though, you still noted how firm his muscles were beneath your death grip.

“Okay, you’re incredibly drunk, sweetheart,” Matt teased, your ears catching the affection in his voice and the term of endearment again. “Maybe I should help you.”

Swallowing hard, you slowly opened your eyes. His face was right before yours, the concern written on his expression was plain as day even with the hint of amusement. For a moment you lost yourself staring at him though, almost as if you were in a trance examining the laugh lines beside his eyes and the flecks of color inside of them as they focused on your chin. He had the prettiest eyes.

“You alright?” he asked.

Blinking rapidly, you realize you’d just been openly gawking at him. Flushing, you nodded and tried to right yourself, your hands releasing his biceps. “Yeah, sorry,” you muttered.

Matt didn’t completely release his hold on you, though he did instead wrap one of his arms around your shoulders as he began to help guide you through your living room and over towards your bedroom. The walk felt like it was longer than it really was with your mind hyper-focused on the weight of his arm around you, gently leading you across your apartment and into your bedroom.

When you reached your bed, Matt’s gloved hand darted out and pulled back the bed sheets before you had a chance. Not feeling as if you could easily slip out of the dress you’d worn tonight, and far too shy to ask Matt for help with something like that, you carefully climbed up into your bed still dressed in it. Sliding your legs beneath the sheets, your earlier exhaustion once more washed over you, your eyelids growing heavy as you began to lower your head down to the pillow. Beside the bed, Matt gently tugged the blankets up and over you, a hard to read expression on his face that was a vast difference to the amused one he’d had when he first showed up. Briefly you wondered what was on his mind before the thought vanished.

“You should get some rest,” Matt said softly, tucking you in. “You’re going to be feeling that in the morning, I can promise you that.”

Groaning at the truth in his statement, you rolled onto your side towards him. “I hate that you’re right,” you grumbled.

He chuckled lightly, the sound drawing a faint smile to your lips as you continued to stare up at him. The urge to reach out and touch him grew so strong that you had to force your hand to hold onto the sheets of your bed, fisting the material in your fingers. What you wouldn't give to trace the line of that jaw, to feel the scratch of his stubble along your fingertips.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Get some sleep.”

Eyes growing half-lidded, you emitted a discontented groan at his words. You much preferred the idea of staring at his handsome face with that confusing expression on it instead. Matt’s amused chuckle met your ears in response.

“You’re clearly exhausted, are you really going to fight me on going to sleep?” he asked.

The words tumbled out of your mouth in a tired jumble, your brain too exhausted and inebriated to know what you’d even said even after you’d said it.

“I’d rather look at you.”

Somewhere in your mind, you registered that Matt had stiffened beside your bed. A soft, warm look grew in his eyes as he gazed down at you lying there, but you weren’t fully aware of everything coming out of your mouth at this point, so the words only continued to spill out.

“‘Cause you’re so beautiful,” you continued. “And I like looking at you. I could stare at you all night, really.”

Matt paused for a moment, a crease forming between his brows. Silence momentarily fell over the bedroom as the exhaustion continued to drag you under.

“You…like looking at me?” he hesitantly asked.

Eyelids lowering against your will, you faintly nodded against the pillow. “Mhmm,” you hummed out, sleep gradually beginning to take you. “Always…liked you.”

“You–you have?” Matt questioned in surprise.

Barely awake, you hummed out an affirmative. “Shame we’re just…friends,” you murmured.

You swore you felt something rough brush gently along the side of your cheek, but with your eyes closed you couldn’t tell if you’d imagined it or not. And then just as quickly afterwards, you’d fallen asleep.

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil #Tuna-Tober 2024

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saymio · 14 hours ago

Text

Little Girls Shouldn't Be Out Alone

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: running away from home might've been the worst decision of your life.. but its not because youre homeless now, its because you met him.

Warning: dead dove do not eat, brief knife play, dubcon, light bdsm, kidnapping/stalking, age gap, mentions of suicide + more.

A/N: not proof read. I tried doing the salesman justice..I promise

6.9k Words

...

the scene you were in was so cliche it was almost funny. your mother died not too long ago, and it was really hard for you because she was the one person in your life that seemed to really care about you. she was everything you wanted to be in life..growing up she was your idol, and to this day she still is... you just wished you had noticed it sooner.. maybe if you did you could've prevented it.. prevented her suicide. its been 2 months but it still haunts your brain, the scene of it. you wanted to throw up thinking about it. her bright smile ceased to exist, her intelligence couldnt impress you any more. it all ended with the gun going off in her mouth..intelligence splattered all over the walls of her shared bedroom with the gun laying next to her... and in result of your mothers suicide your father had to take you in. they had divorced when you were around 4 years old...you don't remember much. but living with him made you realize, your mother did the best choice she could've made then..even if she cried over it for years.

your father was an alcoholic, he didn't abuse you with hits and violence but he abused you with words. blaming you from the divorce and suicide of your mother. you tried to not let it get to your head..it wasn't your fault and he knew it. if anything the blood of your mother stained his hands.. but with the never lasting tournament he inflicted on you a part of you thought maybe he was right...maybe she didn't end her life over you but you could've prevented it. you were the closest person to your mother and vice versa..so..how did you never notice it? her suffering? did you miss all the signals..how stupid were you... she ended her life and you did nothing about it. you were useless...as per usual...

anyways...as you were saying. the scene you stood in the middle in was so cliche, it was like it belonged in a teenagers wattpad story. you were crouched down in an alley way, rain soaking you and everything around you as you sobbed into your hands. you couldn't live with your father anymore, you just couldn't. you knew if you stayed just one week longer..you'd follow your moms footsteps.. you hated this, you just wanted to live a happy normal life. apply for a nice university, move into a dorm, and visit your mom and dad during breaks... but the world wanted otherwise. here you were, drenched in water as you sat in the middle of nowhere...you had run away from home. you had no idea what to do next. your covered your backpack in a plastic bag but it barely helped. all your necessities were wet and your money was probably soggy by now. you're so stupid. couldve you just checked the forecast. to make sure the day you run away from home was a day the weather wouldn't freeze you alive? you couldnt do anything, nothing at all. should you just head back home? deal with your fathers screams for just a few months more before you could save up and move out? or should you just stay here..soggy and homeless... you knew what you were going to do... you'd stay here. you could take what the world would throw at you. you knew you could..but you just couldn't take another second of your dads tormenting. hes probably hoping you went off and jumped off a bridge or something..ending your fate just like your mother did.

you had fallen asleep, it was still raining and cold...but it was notably less than before. you were shivering, shaking in both fear and how frigid you were feeling. your teeth were clattering and you were being hyper aware of everything around you. if someone comes up to me all scary and intimidating I'll throw my backpack at them. it'll give me time to run away.. the sound of cars driving on the slippery wet roads filled your ears ever so often...the street was dead. if something happened to you no one would know.. squish squish squish you could hear the sound of foot steps echo around the streets...and it was getting louder..closer... until... "what are you doing here." a man holding an umbrella was standing Infront of you, he looked neat and tidy. the opposite of what you looked like at the moment. his suit was ironed to perfection, not a wrinkle in site. his hair slicked back neatly with gel.. and his features... they were striking and fierce.. he was handsome.. he tilted his head to the side and stared at you with his souless dark eyes. "well?" his tone wasnt soft but it wasn't stern either...it was like he was asking a child if they could hand him over the toy they've been playing with... you gulped down the lump that was forming inside your throat. "n-nothing..nothing important.." you spoke, barely over a whisper. you were nervous and scared. you felt like something was off about him, he just seemed too good to be true. handsome men like him always have something they hide from the rest of the world. he raises his right eyebrow at you, obviously not believing that you were doing nothing.. "do you need help? I could get you a new pair of clothes. this area is dangerous, did you know that?" he smiled at you, but it wasn't genuine at all. it was like one of annoyance...if he was so annoyed why would he offer a hand to you? it didn't make sense... you stared up at him from the floor, you felt like a stray puppy left in a box. and he was here to pick you up and become your new owner.. you knew this was probably a bad idea, you knew he was bad business. but.... you were so scared and cold in the rain..what would be worse than this? "yeah...I need help.." you spoke softly, you refused to look at him as you did so. you felt embarrassed....asking a stranger for help because of a stupid mistake you did with your own free will..you're pathetic... "great, I'd love to help you. follow me." he spoke, but it didn't seem like he was glad or happy to be at help at all.. he spoke with a deadpan voice, as if he was bored and wanted to get this over with. was this some sort of community service thing he has to do? help the homeless during the rain? whys he acting like he's being forced at gunpoint to do this... you got up from the ground, all wet and soaked in rain water. you felt so uncomfortable you wanted it to end..you grabbed your bag and followed him at a small distance... he lead you to a car. a black suv, it was clean and pretty...and it looked warm. you kept walking until you were right next to him, was he gonna let you inside the car? but you'd make it dirty and wet..and was this even a good idea??? heading inside a strange mans car in the middle of the night in the pouring rain.. but you didnt have much time to think much about it as he had opened a door to the car..the interior was a lot like him. clean, tidy and sleek... "well? get inside, don't worry about getting it wet. I don't mind." he smiled at you again, with the same fake smile that made your skin crawl because of the sheer eeriness to it. "ah- yes okay..." you crawled into the car, your wet clothes making a slight squeaky sound against the material of the car seat.. you set your bag next to you as he slammed the door shut...and it was pretty aggressive. the loud slam that echoed through the streets from it made you flinch as you stared at him walking around the car to the drivers seat.

you were sitting on the toilet, inside of this strange mans house...I mean, nothing happened yet so you should be safe right?... you turn to look at the shower that was running, waiting for the water to turn warm..and then you stared at the folded clothes. he grabbed some clothes he thought would fit you and sent you to the bathroom with it. you were confused, he was being nice..but for what? it seemed like he didn't want anything from you..maybe he was a little annoyed but he was still helping you.. he seemed normal.. you were so confused. he even put the clothes you were wearing and the clothes that got wet in your backpack into the washer. maybe humanity is just getting better and he's truly just a kind man who wants to help? you stare around in the bathroom, its almost all white with black accents. it was very modern and clean..paintings on the walls that probably cost more than your houses rent..because truthfully this man was obviously very rich. his house was huge and it seemed like he had rows and rows of guest rooms..it was impressive. maybe he was just a snobby rich guy that was trying to fix his attitude. so maybe that's why he seemed so annoyed and put off with you.. he was trying to fix his views on dirty poor people by helping them!! that had to be it..you just cracked the code!! you smirk to yourself and give yourself an imaginary pat on the back before checking the water to see if it was hot now..and when it was you stepped into the shower. the warm water fell onto your body, like it was engulfing you in a tight hug. even though you were in a strangers house, in an area you didn't even know existed...you felt like you were at home. taking a warm shower, getting ready to go out with your mom..... you and the strange man haven't spoken much, he just gave you clothes, put your old clothes in the washer, gave you food and sent you to a guest room.. he was cold, you'd expect a man that was willing to help a stranger from the streets to be nice..and warmer. but he wasn't. you were getting curious about him, what was his name? where did he work? why'd he even help you...but you decided to stay in your place. at the end of the day, you two were still strangers who would never meet again after this. the thought kind of left a pang in your heart. you wanted to know more about him..maybe..maybe he'll want to stay in touch..? but you highly doubted that considering how cold and silent he was. he probably just felt pity seeing such a young girl sleeping in the rain on the streets...he didn't do this to get close. just to make himself feel better.. that's how rich people just are.. you sighed and stared up at the ceiling of the room..you'd be out of there by tomorrow, left in the streets all alone again. you felt your eyelids getting heavy, you started to black out until you closed your eyes and fell asleep..sound asleep.

you woke up to the sound of knocking on the bedroom door, you could only assume it was the man that helped you last night because..who else could it be? you woke up, still droopy as you stretched and looked out the windows. it was bright out now...it was time to get up... you didn't want to but that didn't matter because this wasn't even your house. you got out of the bed and put the slippers the man gave you on. you pulled the shirt that was slipping off your shoulder up as you lazily shuffled your way to the door and creaked it open. you started up at the taller man, again in his neat suit and styled hair. he always manages to unintentionally..or maybe intentionally embarrass you. "still sleepy, huh? you should change and put your clothes in your bag. breakfast is being made." he flashes you another smile...a fake forced smile. its like he doesn't know how to smile or something...you just slowly nod your head at him before he turns around and leaves... you were hoping he'd get the sense of pity again and let you stay longer. you wouldn't mind being treated llke shit here if it meant you got to stay in this house. but of course..people don't like it when cockroaches sneak inside. you closed the door In front of you and did the bed. you didn't want to leave with a bad impression In case he even gets this weird savior complex again..you did the bed and packed your clothes, you headed your way downstairs to the kitchen with your bag in hand...that smell..it smelled like home. the smell of bacon filled your senses as you got closer and closer down the stairs. you haven't smelled something like that in the morning since your mother died, she would always make you eggs, bacon and toast. it was simple but you loved it. you just wished you had savored it more because with no shocker,, your dad doesn't cook. at all. you almost always order something and if you don't you're the one cooking. but even then, he always complains about how shitty your food tastes..even though you know its not true. you finally get to the end of the staircase, the stairs end right near the kitchen so you get a good look at what's going on. it seems he has a personal chef cooking up breakfast as he's sat at the table, sipping on coffee while on his phone. "ahem.." you awkwardly announce your presence to the man at the table, he stares up at you with a blank face. eyes full of nothing but darkness..the more you stare the scarier he gets. as if he were a walking body with no soul inside of him. "sit down. breakfast is almost finished." he speaks blankly, just like his face. something about the atmosphere feels a lot more awkward than before. it seems he isn't even bothering to smile at you like earlier...maybe something happened while you got changed? or maybe he's just not a morning person...you wouldn't really know but you started day dreaming. wondering about his life. maybe its because of how mysterious he is, or his face or wealth..you weren't really sure but something about him allured you. you wanted to know more even if he didn't want to know more about you. you didn't really care if the interest was one sided. you were just too curious... but again, not your place.. at least you felt like it wasn't..he was clearly not interested in having small talk with you. like at all. you didn't want to annoy him more than he seemingly already was. you wanted him to help you again because truthfully, no matter how scary he was or seemed..he was still helping you.. and you need the help. and appreciated it.. minutes passed and nothing was even muttered, a small cough or creak of the chair every now and then but that was it...and the silence was deafening. it was so awkward you could die..you were fiddling with your fingers waiting for the food, you almost just wanted to ask if you could leave now and that you didn't want to eat but.. that would be rude, and you didn't want to be rude. so you just sat still, letting the silence explode your eardrums. . .

"your food is ready" those four words felt like an angel had just saved you from hell, you were about to explode from the tension. and it wasn't the good kind. "ah, thank you!" you bowed your head at the lady that cooked the breakfast as she walked away.. you looked at your plate and then at the mans non existent one..he wasn't going to eat breakfast? he has seen your confused stares because he set his phone down and placed his chin on his hand, he was staring right at you. "I don't eat breakfast. I was just waiting for you to get your food." he stared at you before smiling at you, it wasn't as eerie or fake as the other smiles he's given you but..it was exactly genuine either. like a pity smile..something along those lines. "oh..thank you for waiting.." you bowed your head at him too before you began to eat..it was the same breakfast..the same one your mother had always made for you..what were the odds?..right? you felt yourself getting emotional, eating this simple breakfast just reminded you of your mother. but you couldnt cry Infront of this man...he'd probably just stare at you and do nothing about your sad state...you didn't feel like embarrassing yourself like that. not Infront of this stranger. . . . . "I finished..." you stare up at him, your entire plate is finished due to not eating all day yesterday. he stared at your plate and then at you, you felt kind of embarrassed..like he was judging you for eating.. "okay, should I leave you where I found you or at a house" he stared at you with a blank face, emotionless as he awaited your answer. you help in a frown at the way he worded it, sure he found you but...it felt like he was referring to you as if you were a stray animal. you bit the inside of your right cheek, you really didn't want to go. you wanted to stay safe in shelter but you didn't have a choice...you could either ask him to take you back to the place you dreaded the most, or a place you dreaded a little less... "take me back to the alley way you saw me in.." you stared at your lap as he nodded. he pushed his chair back before taking one last sip of his coffee. "follow me to the car." he pushed his chair back under the table as you got up right after him... I guess now my journey as a homeless person really starts now...I need to find a job soon...

time skip

its been a couple of days since the strange man helped you from the alley way. your delusional side tells you one day he'll be back for you so you sleep there everynight, letting a dumpster bin hide your sleeping body from those who pass by the alley way. todays its been awfully gloomy, cloudy, windy and cold.. you were hoping it wouldn't rain since you didn't want to stay there cold and wet again..and you highly doubted the man would be back for you if it did...you spent most of these days searching for a job, with no avail.. rejection after rejection ...it was wearing you down... how long would you even hold up for in these streets? you were barely 20 but you were already on the streets. not like you had a choice. it was either suicide or homelessness for you.. you decided to just take a break from searching for jobs today. you didn't have much money left from your savings but you had enough spare change to go to put your dirty clothes and buy an ice cream in the park nearby...you went looking around for a big enough plastic bag to cover your backpack in. you had a feeling it would rain hard again, you could smell it even. and you didn't want to play princess waiting for her knight in shining armor to come save her. you need to think ahead..and be smart..

as always..you were right. it was going to rain today, and it was raining hard. it brought you back to the day you were found by the man all cold and scared in the rain. you were lucky he didn't rape you, you were too trusting of him.. you were once again shuffled up in the alley way, wet and cold. you were sitting on the ground hugging yourself while your backpack sat next to you. at least you found a bag for it, at most it'd get a little wet but nothing compared to last time... your hair and clothes were soaked, you could feel water droplets form on your eyelashes as you tried to wipe away the water that was landing on your face with your equally as wet hands. you were scared..again. you were hoping to god the man would come back, you even place your backpack in view to the street and road Incase he passed by..he would know you were still there. your entire body was ice cold, your breath, fingers, clothes, you were freezing.. after a few hours of sitting in the rain you decided that it was about time you just go to sleep..no one was going to come by and save you again. you leaned your head onto the dumpster next to you and fell asleep. the sheer cold and wetness of the situation didn't leave your senses but..it was almost like you had forgotten about it while you slept. . . . "again?" you heard a voice, a very familiar voice..you jumped out of your sleep and looked up at the person standing infront of you. it was the man that had helped you last time this happened. you felt your cheeks warm up, both at how embarrassing this was, and how sweet (?) it was.. he came back to check on you. whether it was out of worry or pity, you couldn't tell. but either way it made you happy to see someone checking up on you. he just started at you, with the same dark, soulless eyes as always. he just turned around and started walking away. you didn't know whether you should follow him or not..but you trusted your guts and you did. he led you to the same suv as before, it even looked the same. clean, sleek..like you hadn't gotten it dirty that day you got in. "get in" he stared at you, waiting for your response. his sentence threw you off a little, it was as if he was commanding you...but you didn't pay much attention and got inside the car. watching him as he slammed the door again..and walked around the car into the drivers seat. he was still the same.. but in his defense its only been 4 days since he had helped you.

you two were sitting at the dining table, his cook had made the two of you steak with some veggies.. you weren't that hungry but you still ate to be respectful..the same awkward silence corrupted a seemingly 'wholesome' moment. you wanted to say something, it was itching inside your throat. you just wanted to ask his name so you didn't have to call him a stranger anymore.. but he still didn't seem interested. why the hell would he help you if he wasn't interested in even getting to know your name? this was the second time. and even if he denied it was obvious he went there for you..to help you. "you, what's your name." he had put down his fork and knife and stared at you, obviously asking you the question. but you still felt unsure if you should answer. what if he was looking at someone else..or what if he was insane and talking to himself..you were so lost in your thoughts you didn't even notice how his face was changing. he was getting irritated with you. "well? I asked you a question." his voice was more stern than before, his eyebrows were raised and he looked at you with an expression you couldn't read. it was probably annoyance though. "oh- I'm sorry..I've just been kind of out of it...my names y/n" you stared at him and give him an awkward smile. you fiddled with your fingers under the table, you didn't know if he was going to keep talking. "I can tell. well y/n, what are you doing outside all alone? don't tell me you're this young and so in debt you had to go homeless." he stared at you, his facial expression changing to disappointment. but you ignored that and processed what he said first, what does he mean he can tell? did he bring you here just to insult you?? you internally scoffed before shaking your head not to him. "I'm thanfully not in any debt... I just left my home for personal reasons.." you weren't staring at his face but you could tell his facial expression changed, he simply just hummed at you and took a sip of his wine. "what about you? what's your name..and how old are you? you felt it was fair to ask him questions back since he had asked you some. it isn't rude to just be curious right? "you can just call me sir. and I'm 42 years old.. old, huh?" he sarcastically laughed and took a sip of his wine. all that you were thinking was, why was he trying to be so mysterious?? "oh..okay..sir" it felt awkward calling him sir, what if it was a weird kink of his..he could've atleast given you a fake name if he wanted to be like that.. . . . . "thank you for helping me again sir" you bowed at him, not too 90 degree angle but just enough for your thankfulness to be clear. "I appreciate it." you smiled at him, and unlike his smiles..yours was genuine. you truly were happy to have been 'safe' from the rain. even if it soaked you for a while... you were at the alley way again, the sky still looked cloudy and sad. you were scared itd rain again but that's a worry youd have to think of for later. "youre welcome y/n." he just gave you another fakeass smile, the one that's painfully obvious like he's doing it on purpose before he got into his car and drove off. leaving you there to figure out what you should do if it does rain again. but you werent too worried..maybe he'd come back..?

history repeats its self, at least it was for you. you kept finding yourself hugging yourself for warmth in the same alley way, with the same rain pouring down on you. was this strange man gonna save you from this rain aswell or has he given up on saving you from the cruel weather. maybe its still you gulp up the courage to go back home because the weather was driving you insane. the mans help wasn't even helping , it was just giving you a false sense of hope. you sat there for hours, under the pouring rain. and even worse, this time it was thundering. your skin was cold and freezing, every inch of you was soaked in water. you wanted to melt into the ground, the scene was so pathetic. you were pathetic. . . . after what felt like an eternity you came to the conclusion he truly wasn't going to help you. you were nothing but a prop to fuel his ego.. you let your heavy eyelids close as the rains soaked you and everything around it... you would just sleep it out..and find somewhere to sleep that wouldn't leave you like this. . . . you fluttered your eyes open not long after you had fallen asleep. you weren't fully awake yet but you have a strange feeling that someone was looking over you...watching you... you turned your head and rubbed your eyes. you stared at the person watching you, it was the strange man!! he was here to save you from the rain one last time.. your eyes brightened as you stared at him, but something was off. he was holding something..your eyes were a little fuzzy so you couldnt see properly but you knew it wasn't an umbrella like always..he was also getting soaked in the rough rain. before you could ask him about it you felt something hard hit your head. like you've just been struck a pipe... you stared up at the man, eyes going droopy as you fell to the ground... did he just hit you? what...what was happening..why you..?

you woke up in a barely lit, red room. you were confused and scared. you didnt remember much.. just the fact that you were hit by some sort of pole and woke up here. did karma finally get to you for not helping your mom in her time of need? were you going to get raped and killed here?? you started to hyperventilate, you wanted to scream for help but you found it hard to even make noise..your throat was closing and it felt like you were going to pass out again.. your breaths were rapid and your body was shaking. you wanted to get away but you couldnt. your wrists were bound to a chair that seemed to be super glued to the floor. you were pulling at the restraints, you were gasping for air. your eyes were slit as they darted around the room..looking for anyone that could help you... "fuck you look so hot when you're scared" a figure walked out from the shadows of the room...it was the man that had been saving you from the rain??! his dark eyes pierced holes into your head, you were trying to process what the fuck was happening.. he stepped closer to you and stopped right Infront of you. you pushed against the floor and chair, trying to find a way to magically get away. your eyes were wide and filled to the brim with fear, your breathing only got worse as you started to let out choked sobs. "p-please..don't do anything to me please..please.. let me go....I wont..tell anyone..please" you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to look at the man that you were hoping just hours ago would come save you. when you wanted to be saved you didn't mean it like this.. your salty tears dripped from your chin onto the collar of the dry shirt you were wearing. it seemed while you were out he had changed you out of your wet clothes and into the same pair you had worn last time you were here.. your head held low as you were sobbing for your dear life, he hasnt done anything to you yet but you knew he was going to. his cold hands touched your chin, yanking it up to stare at him. the action only made you sob harder, your eyes still glued shut. you didn't want to look at him, you did- "open your eyes and stare at me if you don't want to end up dead." you flinched and opened your eyes quickly, your large eyes stared up at his. they were wet and teary...you just wanted to be free..you didn't want to be here..before you could act upon anything he leaned down and licked one of your eyes, licking away the forming tears that were prickling at the corner of it. you didn't know if this was some sort of weird kink of his or if he did it just to make you uncomfortable but you hated it. it felt uncomfortable and too in your space. you hated this foul man. disgusting. your face was a mixture of uncomfortability, anger and fear. and he loved it. "I love that weird face you're making, doll, keep doing it" he smirked at you..he was staring you down. making you even more uncomfortable than before. he was a freak, was he into peoples pain or something?? can he just let you go.. he stared at you even longer..inspecting every little movement your face made...he loved it. he loved seeing you in discomfort and fear. it fit you, really well. "ever since I've seen you I've been mesmerized... don't mistaken my words as a confession though. this isn't love. this is desire." he reached his hand out to your head, patting and petting you. ruffling your hair and making it all messy..as if you were his pet. "you know, when I saw you..I thought to myself.. 'little girls shouldn't be out alone'..especially in the rain.. where gross men like me could stick their slimy dicks inside you with no consequence." his hand wandered down from your hair to your cheek, down to your neck.. his large hand gripped at your neck, causing you to squirm under the fear he might choke you to death. his eyes and list scrunched into a smile as his hand pressed on your neck, watching you squirm under his grip. "I wouldn't kill you before putting my dick inside you. so calm down, will you?" he grips tighter around your neck as his other hand crawls its way down up body....

he stripped the clothes you had on from your body, you were sitting on the chair, naked. your wrists are still bounded to the chair so you couldn't move or go anywhere. you felt so gross. a random middle aged man was manhandling your tits, grabbing them so hard it left red marks on them. you were holding in moans, you were scared but fuck did his hands feel good on your sensitive nipples. but you didn't want him to know you didn't want him to know you were feeling go- "AH!~" you let out a mixture of a scream and a moan, his right hand had snuck its way down from your chest to your now wet pussy. he shoved two fingers inside, no warning, no prep, just shoved them in. only using the wetness of your pussy to help his movements. your back arched against the chair, you were moaning in both pain and pleasure now. he was handling you like a piece of meat, roughly 'massaging' your boobs and ruining your insides. he made rough scissor motions with his fingers, occasionally curling them inside of you. it hurt so bad, it hurt. so. bad. "you cried and sobbed like you didn't want this but look at you now. moaning under me. you were even wet when I put my fingers in. slut." his voice was deep and full of need,, he took his hand away from your tits before he slapped you. really hard. the skin on your cheek stung and was probably starting to turn red.. but it felt good..even thought you didn't want this, and all you wanted to do was go home...his fingers..they felt too good to go back. "fuck I wanna make you go through so much pain, I want to ruin you. fuck." his fingers continued to ravish your insides as he shamelessly started to rub his hard on. he was getting so turned on by this. a scared young girl, pleasuring the older scary guy Infront of her so he can make it out alive.. he wanted more. he took his hand out of your pussy, your clit was twitching. needy for more. you whined at him, you wanted to cum, you wanted to release.. you wanted it all... he scoffed at you before spitting onto your face and giving you another harsh slap. "stop complaining bitch, be grateful anyone would even want to fuck a dirty mutt like you." he tsk'd at you before turning around and grabbing something from a small box nearby. your heart was pounding, your mind was racing and your hole was pulsing. the way he disrespected you, the way he spoke to you.. it turned you on. were you just needy for approval and wanted to do what it takes to impress the guy? or maybe it was so you could keep your life..or maybe you were just insanely horny. you didn't even know at this point. you didn't know what was taking over you. the man turned around...holding a knife. you started to feel your heart race in fear again, your breath hitched as you tried to push away from the chair...and of course you couldn't. he stepped closer, and closer, an closer. until he was barely inches away from you. he raised the knife and pointed it at your stomach, pushing it into your skin.. not enough to stab you or make your bleed, but enough for it to hurt. it was like getting a shot at the doctors office that lasted too long for your comfort. you shifted under the knife, you were uncomfortable. not that scared but you were anxious..you didn't like the thought of a sharp knife being pushed onto the skin of your stomach that much.. "you look cute like this. I would cut you but I don't think it's time for that right now." he smiled at you, like you had just won a grand prize..and frankly you think you did. you didn't want to deal with more pain than what you were already feeling. he put the knife down, dropping it onto the floor. your pupils were blown. he looked so hot like this. it was scary but, hot as fuck. "opinions on getting your insides ruined?" he spoke, flashing his signature fake smile.

you were finally free from the chair, your wrists felt so much better. they felt less imprisoned.. but you didn't have much time to think about that as your insides were getting rearranged by the man you had once found safety in. you were in missionary, your thighs were rubbing against the skin of your stomach. loud gross sounds of skin slapping and wet pussy filled the room, he was filling you up. you let out loud unstable moans as he ruined you. his face was stuffed into the crook of your neck as he bit and nipped at it harshly. leaving dark bruises and hickeys on it as he kept slamming into you. your felt sweat dribble from your forehead as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. it felt. so good. you could hear him panting, louder and louder as his dick was hitting places you couldn't dream of reaching on your own. it hurt a lot, it felt like you were going to get split open any second now but..the pleasure..the pleasure of your pain and of his thick cock was flooding your brain. you'd worry about the pain later.. "fuck you look so hot when your insides are getting blown out" he grips at your neck, hard as he fucks you like a ragdoll. your hands fly to his, gripping and clawing at his hand. an attempt to unblock your airway, to no avail. his movements started to get rabid and sloppy, he was close. you knew he was. he let go of your neck, leaving a faint bruise due to his grip before he slapped your cheek again. the stinging, it only got worse. you felt like every inch of your body was getting ruined and beat. and truthfully, you loved it. "fuuu- fuuck.. sir- i- fuck..m' gonna cum! m' close! please let me cum! please please please!" your words were fast and sloppy, you were close, you needed to cum you needed it. he spat on your face again, making you feel like a disgusting piece of meat..but you loved it. you wanted to make him proud. he took his left hand and started to rub your clit as he slammed into you. each time it got faster and faster. "cum for me baby, show me how much you love my cock..fuuck.." you arched your back against the bed as it started to make a loud annoying squeaking sound from the rapid movements on it. "fu- ah~! fuckfuckfuckfuck yes yes please ah more more please ah ouh..~" your loud moans filled the room as you came all over his cock, leaving a white ring of sticky substance at the base of his dick. shortly after he came inside of you, filling you up with cum with a loud(ish) grunt. he didn't stop though, he kept moving, not only to help you out your high but to bring you to another. this man doesn't intend to stop until youre full of bruises and unable to walk..

Another note: I REALLY HOPE THIS IS GOOD, I fr spent all day on this (started at 8am, its already 8pm rn omfg) I hope I portrayed his character well, idk if I made him too mean or tame or wtv idk hshshhs, reqs are open!! pls check blog rules before u send them though:)

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

#ᡣ𐭩 saymio #squid game x y/n #squid game 2 #send reqs #squid game #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #squid game x you #the sales man x reader #the salesman #smut #squid game smut #x reader #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #mdni #fanfic #prob ooc #not proofread

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erin-unknown · 8 hours ago

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I don't really enough of a following anymore to actually play this game and wait for asks, but I still wanted to answer these questions. I'll just leave the answers here 💕

A little background for Dalgar Thorne, Grey Warden mage:

Born to elven farmers in the northeastern Anderfels, Dalgar was orphaned at the age of twelve and taken in by a pair of passing Grey Wardens, Casilda (Caz) Thorne and Olivier du Lac. He spent much of the next fifteen years of his life at a small outpost near Kassel, learning from several of his fellow Wardens, but primarily Caz and Olivier (who felt the most responsible for him). Caz was born in Rivain and trained as a seer until circumstances brought her to the Wardens. Olivier is a disgraced Orlesian duelist, once rather famous for their skill and showmanship, if only in the Free Marches.

Dalgar is personable and kind with a bit of a dumb, sometimes dark sense of humor. He can tap into a deep well of magic for some potent (if chaotic) spellwork and tends to act before thinking. He tries not to think too much in general, if he can help it.

He is very close with both Neve and Lucanis and romances Neve in the game, but I'm entertaining the idea that these three work out a polyam triad in the following years. The chemistry is just there. What can I say?

🌻 Dalgar is twenty eight. I think he’s forgotten that people celebrate birthdays; he never did back on the farm and Caz never thought to celebrate either (she’d defend herself by insisting that she wasn’t his mother). Her partner, Olivier, made up for this by frequently giving him useful items or sweets (an easy win with Dalgar).

The gift that has meant the most to him wasn’t a birthday gift; after Caz died (Dalgar was 21), Olivier gifted him her old, enchanted greatcoat. He's worn it every day since.

🪻 Dalgar suffered burns across his face and body from an accident at the age of 12. He awoke from a nightmare (a common occurrence) surrounded by fire that he had summoned in his sleep (not common). The fire burned down his home, the family farm, and his neighbors’ farms.

He was barely conscious for several days and has no real recollection of this time; the first solid memory he has is Caz healing the worst of his burns with the help of a spirit. She and Olivier inform him that he has been brought into Warden custody (his neighbors were out for blood) and present him with two choices: agree to train as a Warden and eventually take the Joining, or go to the Chantry, where Caz warns he will likely be forced into Tranquility (she doesn’t elaborate on why she is so certain of this and he never asks).

🌹 First fight? I’m actually not sure; he’ll avoid an argument forever, so it probably wouldn’t happen until after the game is over and the realities of day-to-day life start to settle in. Maybe something that seems small but is symptomatic of a larger issue.

🌸 Dalgar is an only child and, although he was one of several children nearby, he was the only elven child, so he resorted to being a clown so as not to be singled out or left behind. It's something he still relies on as an adult. When he came into his magic at nine years old, he was told to hide it (so he could stay on the farm), and it became harder to maintain any connections outside his father.

After joining the Wardens, he was the only child for miles but he grew very fond of the Wardens at the outpost and treated several of them like family (including Caz and Olivier).

🌾 Dalgar would be very susceptible to a Despair or Isolation spirit; he clings hard to hope, or the idea of hope at least, in as many ways as he can. He also finds what reassurance he can in the people around him. Any reminder at all, literal or figurative, that he’s not alone in his fight could help him find his way out.

🌱 Growing up with the Wardens left him pretty free with his physical affection. Caz and Olivier were committed but not exclusive, and the few Wardens around his age were living with the notion of death around every corner, so why not seize the day? Dalgar had never been in anything committed or long-term until Neve.

🌼 Dalgar smells like sorrow, the Fade, and hearth fire.

🌷 Dalgar would look for a tavern or café – somewhere he can sit in a corner and people-watch. He’s not used to not being surrounded by people, so this is the closest he’ll venture towards solitude. There he might read something or draw (he likes to draw).

If he’s not looking for solitude, he’d pester Davrin into taking Assan out for a walk or drag Neve and Lucanis out for a meal or something.

🥀 Caz would definitely be in Dalgar’s regret prison; although she was the one who made him swear to become a Warden when he was of age, she actually changed her mind over the years. Caz never told him directly, but instead kept finding reasons for him not to take the Joining until her death out in the field. This frustrated and confused him and ultimately complicated his grief.

When Dalgar was finally free to partake in the Joining, he did, determined to prove something to Caz’s memory and his own growing doubts. He struggles with this decision to this day; vaguely aware that Caz didn’t want this life for him, it feels a like a betrayal. He also feels guilty for wondering what might have been if he had gone his own way.

🪷 Dalgar is afraid of the dark.

🍀 Dalgar’s almost died several times in his life, starting with nearly being trampled by horses as a small child and most recently avoiding getting torn in half by a Reaver. He tries not to think about any of it too much, during or after. He survived, after all.

💐 Dalgar adores Evka and Antoine. He’s grateful that they put up with him and, although he’s mostly unconscious of this, their support and encouragement have gone a long way in making him feel at home again among the Wardens since he lost Caz.

🌺 He doesn’t remember much from before he joined the Wardens and everything he owned burned with his home, but he does fondly remember evenings with the Wardens during the colder months, toasting chestnuts at the hearth in the mess hall.

Olivier started this annual tradition after Dalgar first arrived at the outpost, to get him and the Wardens at the outpost accustomed to each other. Dalgar doesn’t know that.

🌿 No tattoos. (I might change my mind)

🍂 Dalgar doesn’t think about killing if he can help it. Darkspawn are a plague to be eradicated and it’s his sworn duty to combat the blight, so his feelings around them are not particularly complex.

In contrast, the first time he killed a person (a Venatori cult member), he accidentally looked them in the eye, and it kept him up at night for weeks afterwards. He’s grateful most of their enemies wear masks.

Spirits dying feel like a breaking wave to him. He doesn’t enjoy the sensation at all, but it does make him curious; it’s almost like a part of them still exists out in the ether. Dalgar finds something reassuring in that, although he couldn’t articulate why.

I have a handful of different Rooks, but Dalgar has been my favorite so far. When I have the energy, I'm writing for him! It's been nice.

Woe! Rook ask game be upon ye!

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them? 🪻 What is the most painful injury your Rook has received? How has it affected them once it healed/scarred? 🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved? 🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard? 🌾 If there was a demon trying to trap/take over Rook, what kind would be the most successful? What would break their hold? 🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end? 🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say? 🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse? 🥀 What figure from Rook’s personal past would be added to the regret prison? 🪷 Does your Rook have an irrational phobia? (ie spiders or large man-made objects submerged underwater) 🍀 Has Rook had any near-death experiences? What went through their mind during what they thought was going to be their final moments? 💐 What is the relationship Rook has with their faction mentor? What was the moment they sent Rook away like? 🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food) 🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish? 🍂 What was it like the first time Rook killed someone? How did they react afterwards?

#dragon age ask game

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palmerzy · 16 hours ago

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lowkey, spencer would totally be such a pervert when it comes to camgirl! reader.

like he’d constantly be checking his phone even away in cases, for notifs of announcements of your next streams and if he has the time, he’d try to catch even a small glimpse of a stream while in bed on a case.

the way he’d totally spend every earnings of his income on you 🤭❤️

answering this rn because i like the concept :3 not too well versed with all this stuff but either way, i hope this suffices 🙈

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes, incl. camgirl!reader and kinda perv!spencer (depends on your definition of a perv, really).

spencer doesn’t even remember how he stumbled across your page, probably through a rogue advert or something on his computer. but what he does know is that he was hooked right from the start.

he’s never really been one for watching porn, too busy analysing their body language and concluding that these people aren’t putting as much passion into it as he enjoys. you, though, you’re sweet and soft spoken, and still innocent to your subscribers whilst doing the most filthy of things.

the first thing that caught his eye was on your free page, a picture of you in a black and white lingerie, with a chess set in front of you - captioned ‘play with me?’. he couldn’t not subscribe to your main page after that. a beautiful woman and his favourite game? he couldn’t help wanting to see more.

at first, he felt a little odd and embarrassed about literally paying for porn, but he kind of just reminded himself that a lot of people do it, and he wasn’t the odd one out. plus, he was helping someone pay the bills, so in his mind - it was a good deed. his hefty salary could take the hit.

he didn’t even realise you did streams alongside your cutesy videos until he was in a random hotel room on a case, scrolling through his phone, the notification popping through. his brows had furrowed in curiosity, and he couldn’t stop himself from clicking onto it.

there you were, camera set up in the usual spot, sat in your bed. you were still fully clothed, which was…rare, and he soon realised that over the course of the stream things would grow more dirty. he could see people talking in the chat, sending in large sums of money, to which you were responding. as much as he wanted to, spencer was not about to actually talk to you. he’d rather die.

however, he did sometimes send you money. he didn’t have his name in his username, so he’d feel a little more confident typing a message along with the $50-100 dollars he’d send at a time. small things like “you’re so pretty,” “i love your voice,” and maybe a little “do you think you could read dante’s inferno on stream one day? :)”. yeah, he really loves your voice. probably more than he loves your body.

the thing is, he knows it’s your job, he knows you’re willingly putting these things on the internet because people want your body, but with each video and stream, he mostly focuses on how you sound, or how your eyes gleam any time you smile. he’s always a little miffed if you go live whilst he’s working a case or on the jet, but thankfully you upload your streams after, and he can’t help thinking it’s just for him.

he gets a little…attached, lets say, and soon enough he’s watching your videos every day. even your youtube channel, which is safe for work, where you simply upload makeup and clothing hauls - he loves it. every second of it.

though on your paid site, it’s literally porn, so obviously he gets turned on looking at it. he watches your face in your videos as you make yourself come, more than he watches the ministrations of your hands or toys. he conjures up images in his mind of those being his hands, your noises of pleasure being for him.

the first time you uploaded a video with someone else, he considered unsubscribing. he felt almost betrayed. he was paying and spending his salary on you, not coworkers and other men. nonetheless, he persevered, deciding to just not leave a donation on those posts - as if in protest.

he still never comments or talks in your lives, but he’s always lingering. he gets a little more confident when he sends money, instead leaving notes like “buy yourself something nice :)” or “maybe get a new mic? would be good to hear you clearer :)”

he’s slowly been getting less embarrassed by it, knowing it’s just a simple vice, everyone has one. that is, until, he leaves his phone on his desk when he goes to the bathroom, and morgan catches a peek at the notification from a well known camgirl site. safe to say, he’ll never live it down.

am happy to write something that goes more in depth onto what the reader does but i feel like it would just be x yourself smut LMAO

#tia’s ask box 💋#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid #spencer reid blurb

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 3 days ago

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title: put your hand on my heart

pairing: micheal townsend x reader

synopsis: you know you’re panicking but you can’t stop it and nothing is helping. the last person you want to see you like this turns out to be your saviour

warnings: panic attack, overwhelming anxiety, dark thoughts

a/n: thanks for reading 🤍🤍

taglist: @inmyheaddd @midiosaamor @lyrakanefanatic @aleatorio1234 @maybe-dj124 @book-nerd-emi @maybxlle @foreverwinter22 @sweetreveriee @hermesenthusiast @shattered-glass-roses @gandergaal @sheisntyou @arias-archive @lila-77 @downrightbooks

Please, please, please. Not again. Not this again. I stumble into the bathroom making sure the door shuts behind me, hastily trying to reach a source of water. My finger shake as I turn on the bathroom tap, they can barely grasp the metal. I wait for the cold water to run before splashing my face three times. It’s meant to be a shock tactic, it’s meant to pull me together, it’s meant to help, but it isn’t doing what it’s meant to, it isn’t doing anything. It never does anything.

I try to swallow but it feels like I’ve forgotten how. It feels like my trachea is slowly constricting, the walls on either side slowly closing in creating a claustrophobe’s nightmare. My throat aches as my mouth fills with saliva that I’m desperate to get rid of. I touch my neck, my fingers scraping against the skin. I want to pry it open. Maybe then I’ll be able to breathe, be able to swallow.

I glance up at myself in the mirror and don’t recognise the girl staring back at me. Her eyes are rimmed with thick black smears, her lips are dry and cracked, there are red streaks of art winding down her neck and her face is a sickly pale colour. I’m but living in the shell of body that used to be mine. The things that made me myself are long gone, a ghost of a whisper living somewhere deep within my veins. I don’t know what parasite has infiltrated my body, all I know is I want it out. I want it gone.

But some things you can never kill, so long as they live in your mind, you’ll never truly be rid of them.

Panic wraps bony fingers around my ankles and yanks me into murky waters, Fear holds my head under and makes sure I can’t scream for help. Is this how you felt mum? Is this how you felt when they drowned you? My lungs burn, scream, beg but I already know I won’t ever get to grace them with oxygen again. My hands and feet are bound with thick rope that cuts deep into my flesh. They tied you up too mum. Why? Did you even fight it? I glance at my captors with pleading eyes, they only laugh. Amused by the emotions that fed them running riot through my soul. Did you look at them like me mum? We always had the same eyes, that’s what everyone said. Did they laugh at you too mum?

I feel my body grow weak, I watch as the world spins and I grow dizzy. I’m lost in a state between life and death, beneath this ocean of panic. My body is still trying to fight for survival even though I want to give up. You never wanted to give up, did you mum? But you had to, they forced you to. Panic gives me one last gift, placing something heavy on my chest. It crushes my rib cage but there’s nothing left in me to cry out. No one would hear anyway, I was underwater. No one heard you, mum. I didn’t hear you either. The weight pushes me down further and further from the surface and slowly, slowly it all grows black. Is this what you saw mum? When your body sunk to the bottom? Were you plunged into the darkness the same way I am?

I’m gasping and spluttering. My chest is in agony, red hot pain prickles over my torso. I want to rip my skin off, claw every inch away with my nails. I throw my sweatshirt over my head so the cotton of my shirt was the only thing touching my upper body. I look back to the stranger in the mirror and prod my face with unfamiliar fingers. The veins under my skin throb, almost like my pulse is so fast it might burst them altogether. Part of me hopes they might, at least I’d be rid of these feelings.

My heart thumps loudly through my ears, each boom more demeaning than the last. It feels like the organ pulsating out of my chest each time it beats. A torturous, monotonous thunderstorm that I can’t avoid.

“I don’t like the thunder,” I tremble in my mother’s arms, clinging to the soft fabric of her shirt as if my life depends on it.

“It can’t hurt you little one,” she whispers, stroking my hair with her tender touch, “but don’t fret, you’re safe, I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’m here.”

I don’t like thunderstorms. I never have. But my mother’s arms aren’t here to be my refuge, all I have are these four bathroom walls.

I try and will myself to cry but there are no tears. My face isn’t damp and my eyes don’t water. They refuse, my mind too stubborn to give me an outlet for my pain. I should be crying, I know I should, it’s unnatural not to, it’s not normal.

But I’m not normal.

I feel the dreaded panic attack me again. It’s like a million tiny bullets are being fired at my body all at once. I can’t avoid a single one, I’m stood in no man’s land. And yet despite being shot so many times, I don’t seem to be able to die. Only writhe in my own agony.

My breathing quickens still, which by now I’d thought might be medically impossible. I wish for Sloane to be here to give me a statistic about breathing or wallabies, I wish for Lia to tell me the lie that I would be okay a thousand times over, I wish for Cassie to hold me until I stop shaking looking at me with her kind eyes, I wish for Dean to help me understand why I’m like this and I wish for Micheal to never, ever see me like this.

My wishes don’t come true. Wishes usually don’t for girls like me.

I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have control of my own body, of my own mind, thoughts and feelings. They’re constantly hijacked by a stronger power. A power that comes dressed in black hood and carries weapons of destruction. Though he doesn’t always use them, not straight away. He presents them first, the fear of the threat. Then at the moment of his choosing - the middle of the night, when I’m out shopping, the early morning, in the middle of a case - he would use them.

I have become a prisoner to the man in my mind.

He remembers everything. My mother. He knows all. She was kind and smart and funny and passionate and bold. The details I wanted to forget. Her cold dead body, hauled from the bottom of a lake. Blue skin, closed eyes, hair plastered to her forehead. The things I’d left in the past. She used to tell me I could do anything, be anything. That I was something. That I was special. Brighter than the stars. All that I’d blocked out. The killers that I couldn’t find, that I’d failed to find.

Another overbearing wave of panic crashes into me and my legs begin to feel unsure of themselves adopting an unnatural wobble. Sure I might fall, I sink to the floor in a helpless heap of heavy breathing and blurred thoughts. The cold tiles that press against the back of my thighs are the only thing to remind me that I can feel.

I need five things. What can I see? What can I touch? What can I hear? What can I smell? What can I taste?

I pry my eyes back open. I can see the bathroom door, it’s white with a golden handle. Two towels hang on a hook from the back of it. They’ve been recently used and are still a little damp. The smile on my mum’s face.

I can touch the fabric of my shirt. I play with it between my fingers. It’s soft, it’s smooth, it can’t hurt me. Her fingers weaving a braid through my hair.

I can hear my heart. No, I have to hear past it. I strain my ears. Talking, I can hear my friends talking in the room next door. Sloane, Cassie, Lia, Dean and Michael. I can hear Sloane’s voice most immediately, then Lia’s. The words are blurred, a soup of sound, too overwhelmed by the pounding in my chest. The hum of her sweet song, the one she wrote just for my name.

I can smell bleach. It’s strong and sterile. The bathroom has been recently cleaned. Rose water and buttermilk. She always smelt of rose water and buttermilk. As long as I could remember.

I can taste nothing. My throat is dry, my lips are dry, my tongue is so dry it’s stuck to the roof of my mouth. The honey sweet syrupy liquid she often gave me before I slept.

I lean back further into the wall and close my eyes again. Is it working? Is it helping? I’ve listed the five things, my task is done. Why do I still feel the same? I shouldn’t still feel the same. It’s not working, it never works, I don’t know why this time I thought it might. I’m an idiot. I always have been.

“y/n? Are you in there?”

I know that voice and I know I don’t want him anywhere near the door. I know I’ve forgotten to lock it and I can’t move from the position I’m in. I know I need to tell him I’m fine, that it’s okay. I know that I should then explain I need Lia to get me a tampon to scare him away.

But I can’t speak, I can’t answer him. When I try I end up gasping for air like a fish out of water. I grip the side of the sink, my knuckles going white, trying to hoist myself up. He can’t see me like this, out of everyone it can’t be him. The moment I get myself to stand, my legs give way and I fall back to the floor. They’re too weak to support me anymore.

I’m too weak.

I land with a crash, sending a shooting pain up my back. I wince and make some sort of strangled sound, a scream but with no breath to make it sound like a scream. Immediately he bursts in, uninvited in classic Micheal style. Though he might be the emotion reader of the two of us, I see the worry on his face, through his eyes. I try to glare at him but can’t even muster that. I know there’s no getting out of this now, the moment he lays eyes on me he knows exactly how I feel. Even if I were Lia I don’t believe there’d be any lie good enough to cover up my situation.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he rushes, dropping to his knees immediately, “hey, it’s okay, I’m here.”

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

My mother’s words echo through my mind. His hand settles on my thigh. I don’t need you here’ I wanted to scream. I need Sloane, Lia, Cassie, Dean, Judd, heck even Briggs just anyone but him. He shouldn’t know that this is the real me, that this is the kind of relationship he is really getting into.

He sees it. He sees my fear, my desperation, my panic, my worry, my pain, my anger. He sees it all in technicolour.

Micheal takes my face between to soft palms, “breathe with me, sweetheart,” he says very slowly, “I need you to breathe with me.”

I can’t even talk. I try to reply, but I physically can’t.

“Don’t try to talk,” he tells me gently, “it’s not going to help you. I need you to try and breathe with me.”

I can barely hear him over the sound of my heart raging through my ears yet manage to shake my head vigorously. I need to explain to him that it won’t work, that it never works.

“Try,” he murmurs, understanding, “with me. In… and out…”

Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Nothing overtly complicated. Yet it feels like the most difficult task I’ve ever had to do in my life.

“In…” he guides me, steadily, “…and out.”

One. I do it once.

My breathing is still rapid, I am panting like a dog but I did it. Once. He sits down beside me, interlocking his hand into mine. A constant, a rock, he’s telling me he isn’t leaving. His back is up against the cool tiled wall. Gently he puts his hands on my hips. I don’t shy away from his touch, I don’t flinch, I don’t slap him away. I want his hands on me. I want him to distract me.

He pulls me between his legs. I lean on him pressing my back up against his firm chest. I need to feel something, someone, anyone. I need to know that I’m not alone. I want his lips to transport me somewhere else, I want his hands to make me forget everything. I tilt my head so ours eyes meet. I plead silently. I know he can read what I want, what I need. I know he can see it all displayed on my face.

“You have to get your heart rate and breathing back to normal,” he says, “a distraction won’t help that.”

“Need,” I choke, through loud gulps of air.

He presses a kiss to my temple, “breathe, my love, you’re safe, I’ve got you.”

“You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

I see my mum’s face. I roughly grab onto his legs, clawing at the material of his trousers, digging my fingernails in, like some sort of scared animal. I feel his hands on my waist as my chest heaves up and down, still uncontrollable. The untameable beast in my brain still a torrent of darkness.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he repeats, his voice so smooth, so soothing. I want to believe him, “focus on me…”

I do. I’m focusing on his breath I can feel tickling the back of my neck and his outstretched legs I can see in front of me. I’m focussing on the shade of blue the sweatshirt is and how he smells of that fancy cologne he insists on buying. I’m focussing on the tingling sensation his lips let behind on my temple and the warmth of his body against mine.

“My voice…”

It’s low and even. Steady and constant. The words he says are sweet and soothing and kind. He wants to help me. He cares enough. They’re said softly, gently, tenderly, calmly. He wants me to know I’m safe. He wants to fight the man in my head as much as I do.

“My touch…”

His fingers are delicately wrapped around my waist, but one hand is drawing slow, light circles on my stomach. I feel the shape spiralling in and then back out again. The muscles in his upper arms are against the muscles of my upper arms, they brush together. His heart is beating a little faster than usual against my back.

I think about Micheal. I focus on what he tells me to. Each time I take in oxygen it gets the slightest bit easier. I inhale and I exhale. He waits and he listens and he draws circles on my belly. Sometimes he talks and sometimes he stays silent. But we stay like this until my breathing is only a little worse than normal. The breaths are still short and jagged but they’re less of a gasp, less of a prayer for air.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, “I’ve got you, you’re safe, I’m here.”

I twist my neck to meet his eyes. He looks like he’s in pain. I never meant to cause him pain.

“I’ve got you. Can you feel me?” he whispers, “I’ve got you in my arms. That means you’re safe.”

Safe. Would I ever really be safe when my biggest enemy lived in my own mind?

“I… need… touch…” I tell him, through little breaths.

I haven’t heard the man in my head since Micheal got here. I know this will help. I know I need it. He can make things go away, he can help me, he can keep me safe. He’s got me in his arms. That means I’m safe.

“Okay,” he whispers.

His hand slowly moves from the tight grip on my waist to the bottom of my shirt. It slips under the material, slowly trailing up the bare skin of my stomach. His fingertips skim over my bra and find their way to just below my collarbone on the left side on my chest. He flattens his hand against my heart, pressing down firmly. It’s warm in contrast to the coolness of my skin.

“Breathe again love,” Micheal says in my ear, his voice in the back of his throat, “breathe for me.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Do it again. Do it again. Do it again. It’s getting easier. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Do it again. It’s getting easier. It’s getting easier.

I can feel him, only him. Micheal Alexander Thomas Townsend. My heart thumps against his palm. I close my eyes and rest my head back onto him. I feel it, as he presses the lightest of kisses onto my face, first my forehead, my nose, then my lips. Him, it’s all him. He can take this away, this darkness, this sickness, this disease in my mind. He can make it leave.

After what feels like a while, I’m somewhat what I was before. I can’t say things are back to normal because I am not normal. But I can breathe again, my chest doesn’t hurt, my heart isn’t the only thing I can hear and the man in my head has left. For now.

I realise for the first time how Micheal has seen me. This isn’t the me he’s used to. I take his hand from my shirt and move away from his touch. I stand up shakily and he’s quick to follow, ready to catch me should I fall. I lean against the sink, breathing deeply in and out. I can’t rely on him,I can’t afford to. The last person I relied on was my mother and look where that got me.

“You weren’t meant to see that,” I say, my back still towards him. I can’t bear to look him in the eye, not even for a second.

“It’s not a crime to panic,” he tells me slowly, there’s something tentative in his tone.

I turn around to face him, “yes. It is.”

I’m no emotion reader but something in his face looks scared. I had been taught long ago that I had to stay in control. That if anyone saw me out of control, unnatural, disobedient to the requirements set, that I would be less of a person. A nothing in this world. I’m not going to let this make me nothing. Not after I’d been something for so long.

Something to my mother. Something at school. Something to Briggs and his colleagues. Something to the Naturals program. Something to the friends I’d made here. Something… something to Micheal.

“I’m strong Micheal,” I say trying to steady my shaky voice, “I’m strong, I don’t break,” I falter as tears fill my eyes, I haven’t cried in so long, “I’m not like this, it’s not me.”

I meet his eyes again. He can see all of it, the emotions I show him and even the ones I’m holding back. I’m like a naked body in a room full of mirrors.

“Oh sweetheart,” he says, reaching out to take me in his arms once more.

And as much as I want to, crave to, yearn to, I don’t. I jerk away from his quickly, hitting my hip on the corner of the sink. The porcelain sends a sharp jolt of pain through my body. There will be a bruise tomorrow. He immediately backs away, a concern I’m not used to seeing rippling through his features. He could hide it if he wanted but he’s choosing to show me. He’s showing me he cares.

“Don’t pity me Micheal,” I try to snap but instead my voice strains and instead sounds like I’m in pain, “please.”

‘I’m not pitying you’ the unspoken words hang in the air but never reach his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks instead.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, fumbling over my words, “I don’t know.”

“Come here,” he says, opening his arms again. This time not reaching out for me, this time letting me choose to come towards him.

And I do.

I fall into his arms and melt into his touch. When I feel him around me, everything falls silent, the noise, the stress, the expectation. It’s only him and me. Him and me.

“You are still strong, even after breaking,” he says into my ear, such power in his words but gentleness in his voice, “because you haven’t broken completely, you’re still here,” he murmurs, “and that’s the strongest thing someone can ever do.”

There isn’t any words to reply and he knows that. I let him hold me for a long while before finally, finally I let myself cry.

ahhhh this is my first naturals fic so I’m lowkey nervous… i try and avoid y/n at all costs but I felt like it was sort of needed here. anyways i hoped you liked it and let me know if you want to be on the taglist :))

the natural’s masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#the naturals #the naturals jlb #micheal townsend #micheal townsend x y/n #micheal townsend x reader #micheal townsend x you #micheal townsend one shot #micheal townsend x lia zhang #micheal x lia #jennifer lynn barnes #deancassie #cassie hobbes #dean redding #lia zhang #sloane tavish

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angelmichelangelo · 23 hours ago

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Any thoughts/opinions on TMNT 2007, either in comparison to other iterations or about the characters/relationships in general?

oh boy have i got some thoughts on TMNT 2007 !

straight off the bat i’d say it feels so set apart from all of the other ninja turtles movies we had/have at that point. they’re a little older (i can’t remember the canon ages but wasn’t it pretty much fanon for a long time that they were at least early 20s?) and starts their story off kinda at their end.

2007 was also supposedly a continuation of the 1990s movies. whether you want that to be solid canon or not (personally i don’t) but either way, they’re kind of in “retirement” stage of their lives with everything with shredder already happened and this is kind of just the aftermath of that.

the relationships in this movie !!!!! oh my GOD it’s just near to absolute perfection. i usually don’t always super love the classic raph/leo tension just because sometimes it feels a little overdone and can really take away the shine from other aspects of the movie, but i really do like how different it feels here.

raph is so obviously not coping with having so much of his family dynamics changed. and i think that’s why the whole aspect of the movie being set after all of their biggest most heroic adventures works well, because in a way, this movie just highlights how much their lifestyle has impacted them. imo raph struggles with having leo so far from home. he’s going through a little bit of separation anxiety, can’t regulate his emotions properly and lashes out bad.

leo obviously takes this all the wrong ways. he’s going through something too so he’s blind-sighted to the fact that raph isn’t intentionally trying to piss him off. they’re back butting heads maybe because it feels most familiar in a way that hasn’t been since leo left.

b-team in this movie is just. chefs kiss. so much to unpack here, too.

donnie who is finally being highlighted for how much he does for his family behind the scenes, normally quietly bumbling along, now here he is, trying to keep a sense of normality and feeling under appreciated!! which rightly so!! he kind of just gets this shit load of responsibility thrusted onto him when leo leaves and raph distances himself. he’s treading water in the deep end, barely afloat but rarely does he really lash out because he wants to do good, and keep peace (mostly for mikey’s sake, I would argue)

and mikey. oh mikey. easily one of my favourite interpretations of mikey in this movie. he’s kind of mellowing out and maturing in a way that i think hits leo with full force when he comes home from south america. all because he’s had to grow up and pick up the pieces left behind in the wake of their family kind of slowly crumbling apart.

they’re all hurting in this movie but mikey’s hurt is so painfully obvious and so masked when he’s putting up with a job he really hates, barely seeing much of either brother he has left because of their schedules and feels cooped up. he trips over himself with just pure glee when he sees that leo is finally home. he’s still that kid at heart, despite everything, that truly believes that his big brother can mend this. it’s a really bittersweet thing to think of him just hoping his life would fall back into place again after it being so out of sorts for so long.

TMNT 2007 isn’t a perfect movie by any means. whilst i adore the way the turtles have been written, is still falls into the trap of making don + mike background characters towards the last half, giving leo + raph the limelight once again, and sometimes leo does act a little out of sorts but i could just pin that down to him having some sort of PTSD, so it remains high in my ranks regardless.

it’s not perfect but it’s still really really good. the animation holds up pretty well. it paved the way for 2012 in regards to CGI turtles. the voice acting is something i don’t see hyped up enough. nolan north as raphael?!!! i feel like as a fandom we definitely sleep on that fact way too hard

the plot is original and fresh and it’s clear that this wasn’t just a cash grab, but a real love letter to the franchise and to the fans:) the people that made this cared for these characters and this world and it shows :)

the fight scenes are really fun and easy to follow. the leo raph rooftop scene is just incredibly done. whoever wrote that.. please always be involved in tmnt wherever you are.. honestly pure fire some of those lines

nobody feels like a caricature of themselves here, which often happens with tmnt when a new universe is introduced, just to establish their character roles. i really love the thought of them in the wake of the fight and after the dust settles and they’re trying to cope with their feelings and problems separately because they don’t know what else to do. they need a million hugs, please, i would love to see more of this that isn’t just the last ronin. show me the turtles in their 30s trying to adjust to their lives changing drastically as they’re getting older and recognising their trauma, finally. i would eat that up!

in anyone hasn’t seen TMNT 2007 (which, i’d assume most of my followers probably has) then i would absolutely recommend it !!

forever mourning the mikey centric sequel we were supposed to get before the studio shut down and forever sending wishes up that there’s someone out there with enough money and a dream to bring it to life in some way shape or form (i’ll take a comic. a mini series. anything lmao)

TMNT 2007 will always have a special place in my heart :)

#ask #anon #tmnt #tmnt 2007

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diaferia-dhades · 2 days ago

Text

Broken Melody

Sylus x MC (angst with comfort)

warning: main character death, torture, prison, pregnancy, birth, myth spoilers

word count: 1369, no proofreading

preview: Sylus looked into MC's past after his passing...Slightly based on this

Spoilers: MC saw Sylus' history when their souls were bound, so here's the question, would Sylus see her history as well?

"Look at me... You're not allowed to close your eyes!"

Sylus remembered those words. He remembers everything she says. He remembered kissing her forehead before leaving. It hurts him just as much to leave his beloved.

"Sylus... I cursed your soul..."

She sobbed, he wanted to cradle her face and kiss her one more time.

"I cursed your soul... to never fade away... "

He wanted to come back to her, to hold her, to love her the way she loved him.

"You'll always be tied to me. Forever."

His last remaining soul watched as she gripped the black petal as if her life depended on it before she finalized her curse.

"This is my curse... Only I can...Grant you a true death."

He feels like this is more of a blessing than a curse. He rather die in his lover's arms than die in someone else's arms. At least he's able to see his lover a last time before departing.

As soon as she finished her curse, she took half of his soul and bounded with hers, inheriting his characteristics.

Sylus is confused. Although this happened in his past life, he had long let go of the memory. He is enjoying his second life, a blessed life where he found his beloved again and shared their love together. He is living a blissed life, where he get to hold his lover without any barrier, without having to worry about hurting her with his claws, able to become human for her. So why? Why did this memory come back to him? Why would his mind remind him again of his past life?

The scene slowly changes. He watches her lover, inheriting his horns, tails, and wings, scrambling away from something, someone. He can see in the distance, that arrows pierced through the air. He wanted to scream, he wanted to jump to her, to protect her, but he couldn't move.

That's when he realized, he was living in a nightmare. A nightmare he always wanted to prevent from happening in real life. That's why he always wanted to become stronger. Be the best, be the top. He wanted to give his beloved all she ever wanted and be able to protect her.

And here he is, witnessing this nightmare.

He allowed her to take his life just so he wouldn't kill her but left her alone in this cruel world where she had to fend for herself with no one there to protect her.

He watched her as she was being dragged away. She is bound by ropes and chains. She has bruises and wounds all over her body, covered in blood. He felt his chest tighten, heartbroken at how his beloved was being treated.

"Sylus..."

He heard her whisper as she was dragged away. Her voice sounded partly hopeful partly dejected. Part of her hoped that her lover would come back but part of her knows he is gone.

The scene changed, he saw her in the prison cell. There was water dripping on the corner. Mold grows at all corners of the cell. Only a small window on the top corner where the moon peaks out. The prison is worse than his prison. It looks inhabitable, so small. His beloved sat on the floor and clearly lost a lot of weight. He can practically see bones through her skin. Her eyes, were dark, lost of all lights, as if she long lost the will to live.

He heard footsteps. A group of guards arrived at her prison cell, listing all her sins and her execution date.

He should've killed them. He should've killed them all. None of those humans ever deserved to live.

He looked back to his beloved. As if the time had sped up, she is now caressing her swollen stomach. He saw some lights return to her eyes. Teardrop rolled down her cheek, onto her hand as she carasses her stomach. Only a single word escapes her mouth.

"Sylus..."

Her voice sounded so weak so defeated. Sylus felt his heart shattered.

Then she was dragged away again. He wanted to chase them. He wanted to protect her. But his feet are sealed onto the ground. He wanted to scream but no sounds came out of his mouth.

The scene changed again. He is standing outside the cave. The same cave that was his prison and his home. He saw his beloved frantically flying away while clutching her stomach, trying to protect it as much as she could. A group of soldiers chasing her, throwing weapons at her, trying to hurt her, kill her. It was as if they rallied an entire army just to catch a single person. It was truly laughable.

She was screaming in pain as tears rolled freely down her face. Then she stumbled into the liar, and gently laid herself on the bed, screaming in agony. He wanted to soothe her, to take away her pain. Then he saw it. His beloved birthed their child all by herself.

And he wasn't there for her.

His beloved cradled their baby in her embrace, sobbing and apologizing. He wasn't able to hear her because of the yells and screams from the soldiers outside. Then there was fire. His lair that he once called home, was engulfed in flames. A soft melody sang, the same melody that his beloved sang to him before.

Then a soft voice called...

"Sylus..."

"Sy... Sy... lus..."

"Sylus!"

Sylus flung his eyes open and immediately sat up. He was panting. He couldn't tell if it was his tears or sweat rolled down his cheek. He touched his face and he confirmed that he was indeed crying.

"Sylus?" His beloved was next to him, concerned. "What happened? A bad dream?" She gently rubbed his eyes and cheek, drying his tears. "You're ok, I'm here, darling."

Sylus slowly turned toward his beloved. Her gentle eyes... He saw the eyes in his dream, it lacked light, as if she gave up on living. Now, her eyes are full of light, full of life. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Trying to assure himself that it was only a nightmare.

His beloved drew soothing circles on his back and she gently kissed his cheek and forehead, comforting him. He never felt so vulnerable.

He failed to protect her. He failed to protect their baby. He failed.

"It's ok, darling. I'm here," She whispered, as if she could read his mind. "It's ok, I'm here. That's all it matters."

Yes, that's all it matters.

Sylus took a deep breath. "I'm fine now." He inwardly cringes at how his voice cracks. He used to believe that he won't be able to cry. He is strong enough to hold in his emotions. But tonight, he proved himself wrong. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's ok," she reassured her husband.

They stayed in each other embrace for a while before he finally breaks off. "You should go back to sleep."

"Will you be able to sleep?" She asked, worryingly.

Sylus didn't respond. His beloved smiled, "It's ok. We can read a bit and calm our minds before we go to sleep. Perhaps that way, we will have a better dream." She rolled over and grabbed a children's book. "We can read to our child."

Sylus smiled and nodded. She scooted closer toward him. He wrapped his arms around her, resting on her swollen stomach while she rested her head on her chest.

She reads the book, and the more she reads, the more sleepy she gets. Until she stopped reading, her breaths evened. He smiled to himself and gently lowered his beloved back in the pillows, rearranging the pillows around her head and body, making her more comfortable. He watched her sleep so peacefully. He slowly moved the blanket down, revealing her stomach. He gently kissed her stomach and whispered, "I'll protect both you and your mother."

He failed to protect both of them in his past life, then he shall protect them both in this life.

He settled down beside her, wrapping his arms around her, and holding her close.

Perhaps living is the best way to protect people he loves.

@madam8

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus #sylus fic #qin che #sylus fluff #sylus angst

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joelalorian · 15 hours ago

Text

Under False Pretenses - Chapter 1

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 1700 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Overall rating will be Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap but I imagine a lil' baby one of about 5 to 8 years. This chapter is a wee lil mellow one and sets the scene, but future ones will include soft, yet sexy and intense Dave; several twists - basically, it will have it all: action, angst, deception, fluff, humor, a puppy(!), and SMUT! No use of y/n. Dave will give reader a nickname based on his perception of her.

AN: I got too excited and decided to post the first chapter. Posting schedule will be somewhere are weekly, give or take a few days. Hope you enjoy and let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter 1:

“Sure, honey. You can come stay for a while,” your mom assured you. She sounded excited even though it wasn’t a call you wanted to make, not at this point in your life, but what other options did you have? “You can see the house and meet your new stepdad!”

Dead air.

The soft glow of you bedside lamp cast long shadows on the room, making the clutter of half-packed boxes look like ominous towers. Your knuckles whitened as you gripped the phone tighter, trying to process her words.

“My new WHAT?” your voice rose toward the end in utter confusion. You didn’t even know your mom was dating anyone, let alone someone serious enough to fucking marry!

“Oh, honey, his name is Dave and you’re just gonna love him,” she replied with a lovesick simper.

You’d never heard her voice do that. She must be really into the guy.

Enough to marry him without even inviting you to the god damn wedding?

She’s still chatting away, explaining how they met – at work – and how it was such a whirlwind romance that they got carried away on a work trip to Vegas and decided to just tie the knot without telling anyone.

Okay. That, actually, didn’t surprise you. Your mom was super smart but could be a total a flake sometimes, leaving you to wonder who the adult was on more than one occasion while growing up. She had you really young and never quite matured.

“That’s great, Mom. I can’t wait to meet him,” you finally replied after twenty minutes of listening to her gush over this Dave guy. “But I’m not calling him Dad.”

She laughed. “Of course not, honey. He’s too young to really be your dad anyway.”

That piqued your interest.

“Oh, oh, oh, you robbin’ the cradle, mama?” you teased. “You’re really living your cougar era, huh?”

“Stop it, you,” she giggled in return. “So, when do you think you’ll get here?”

Conversation went back and forth a little longer as your mom gave you the new address – for fuck’s sake, they moved clear across the state from where you grew up, to a very swanky area at the shore, you noted – and you made a rough itinerary. In reality, you would have loved to just drop everything and get the fuck out of dodge right that minute, but logistics and all that.

“Ok, honey. Be careful and I’ll see you next week. Call if you need anything.” Before she ended the call, your mom added, “I’ll text you Dave’s number as well, so you have it in case of emergencies.

“Sounds good, mama. Love you.”

“Love you more, honey.”

You went back to packing up the remnants of your life, readying yourself for the cross-country journey ahead.

You did not have ‘moving back home at almost 30’ on your bingo card this year, but there you were, pulling into the half-moon driveway of a large colonial home in an upscale neighborhood, one much nicer than where your mom used to live. The house loomed under the late morning sun, its pristine white siding and black shutters stark against the cloudless blue sky. Perfectly trimmed hedges flanked the curved driveway, and somewhere nearby, the faint crash of waves carried on the salty breeze. This Dave guy had a lot of money, it appeared. Parking your little sedan to the far side in front of the 3-car garage, you turned the car off and lingered in the driver’s seat, fingers drumming nervously on the steering wheel.

Normally, you didn’t mind change, but… man, the past month threw some whammies at you. You lost a boyfriend, job, and your loyal goldfish in quick succession. Each loss hit worse than the last. And now, your safe space, the place you needed to return to so you could lick your wounds… also changed. Big time.

The soft tap of a manicured nail on the window startled you, head snapping to the side to see your mom standing in the driveway beaming at you. She bounced on her feet, anxiously waiting for you to get out of the car.

“Honey! It’s so good to see you!” You barely had time to fully stand up before she pulled you into a bone crushing hug. That was another thing about your mom – she was strong. She had lithe muscles packed into her small figure from being a total gym addict.

Too bad that addiction wasn’t hereditary. You hated the gym.

“Hi mama! Marriage looks good on you!” you praised her once you stepped back and took in her glowing, sun-kissed skin, vibrant blonde locks, and the large rock on her hand.

“You look good, too, honey. You losing weight?”

And of course, she honed right in on that. You weren’t even in front of her for five minutes, and she brought up your weight. Story of your life. Your body shape the exact opposite of your, mother’s, she hadn’t let up on nagging you about your weight since you were twelve years old. You were always a bit… thick in places.

“Uh, maybe, I dunno. Come on, show me your new digs.” You quickly changed the subject.

Your mom gives you the grand tour, proudly showing off all the lovely features of the house, focusing heavily on the ones the home you grew up in didn’t have like the huge kitchen, fireplace, pool, and enormous master suite, though she led you away before you could fully explore all that the suite offered. The two other bedrooms were already decorated for little girls, and you quirked a curious eyebrow at your mom.

“Didn’t I mention that Dave has two young daughters?”

No. No, she definitely did not mention that. You rolled your eyes, understanding now why your mom was so eager for you to come home. She wanted a built-in caretaker. You mentally counted down, knowing exactly what she was about to say in three, two, one…

“Actually, now that you’ll be living here, it would be great if you could look after the girls when we have to travel for work or want to go out, help with the school runs during the week.”

It wasn’t a question, you noted. Not that you expected her to ask first or even mention that being a nanny would be part of the deal. Nothing with your mom ever came without a cost. You learned that lesson long ago.

You loved your mom, you really did. Sometimes, she just didn’t make it easy to do so.

“Right. About that… where am I supposed to be staying if all the bedrooms are taken?”

She led you down the stairs to a door off the family room, where another stairway awaited you. “You’re locking me away in the basement?” you joked. “Please tell me it’s at least finished.”

“Just wait until you see it, honey,” your mom promised, and you reluctantly followed her down the steps.

When the lights flicked on, the sight took your breath away. It was like an entire apartment down there. It even had its own private entrance leading to the garage allowing you to come and go as you pleased. “Wow,” you breathed.

“Told ya.” She flashed you a twitchy wink. “You’ll have this whole space to yourself… well, except for that room over there.” She pointed to a closed door equipped with a sturdy lock.

“What’s in there?” you questioned, already curious about the reasoning for such a lock on the door.

“That’s Dave’s office. It’s off limits to everyone but him, so don’t go snooping. Got it?” She pointed a finger at you like you were an errant child, and you raised your hands in surrender.

“Heard you loud and clear, mama. I have no interest in whatever creepy ass skeletons Dave is keeping in his locked office.” Total lie, of course, but your mom didn’t need to know that.

“Good. Get settled in and help yourself to whatever you need. I must head to the office for a bit. Dave should be home at some point, he just had a meeting in town. I’ll pick up the girls from school on my way home if you want to take care of dinner.”

And there it was. You knew there’d be a bigger price to pay for this arrangement, more than occasionally taking care of your new stepsisters. Without a job or any other responsibilities, your mom was going to treat you like free labor. You saw that coming.

You followed your mom upstairs and through the front door as she headed to her car in the garage, and you went for yours. Might as well get unpacked, not like you brought much anyway. It was early still, and you could make a trip to the store for anything you needed before having to worry about dinner.

A few hours later, you stepped back to admire your new living space with a sense of pride. You did everything you could to make it your own, within reason.

With the basement suite basically being a blank slate, you chose a variety of decorative pillows, wall hangings, and chotchkes to give it your own stylistic flair. The furnishings unused and rather plain, you wanted to spice them up with splashes of color. You did everything short of paint the damn walls – and you would have done that too if given the option.

Grateful for a firm mattress with a plush pillowtop, you sprang for the softest satiny sheets you could find in a pale green hue and paired it with a patterned comforter with clean lines. A couple of coastal-themed lamps on the nightstands rounded out the small bedroom.

The bathroom was already decorated with a shower curtain and accessories in soft gray hues, and you wondered if that was Dave’s touch or your mother’s. Probably Dave. Your mom never veered toward subtle furnishings, much preferring patterns and styles that you found garish.

Glancing around at the neat space one last time, you headed upstairs to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. You wanted to make something special for the first time meeting your stepdad and his daughters.

tbc

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69

#stepdad!dave york x f!reader #dave york equalizer 2 #soft yet intense dave #dave york fluff #dave york angst #dave york smut #pedrostories

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cpericardium · 1 day ago

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This is the story of the time I interviewed at Ubisoft.

When I was a teenager, I became obsessed with the Bioshock series and got it into my head that I wanted to do game design for a living. I'd never seriously attempted it nor did I know exactly what it entailed, but how hard could it be? I gamed!! I had ideas!! I said this to my teacher during a what do you want to be when you grow up talk, and she said, "Oh! My sister works at Ubisoft Singapore. I'll get you an interview."

Emails were exchanged, and someone at the company arranged a "quick chat" with me a couple of weeks later. It was for a QA tester intern position, which I reasoned was sort of like game design. After all, in the Sims 3 it's one rung on the ladder to becoming a game developer. Also I didn't want to anger my teacher. She was quite volatile.

Round 1:

I'd never done a job interview before. I put on a nice blouse and pencil skirt and heels, nervously applied and reapplied makeup which I normally did not wear, and showed up at the office building an hour early. Then as I went up the elevator I realised they never said what room it was. I couldn't very well email to ask now. I'd look like an idiot!! Fuck!! So for an hour, I just skulked around outside various glass doors peering into offices hoping there would be some receptionist around to ask, but there was practically no one there. The email only said "let's have a quick chat at 2pm on x date".

I was about to slink home with my tail between my legs when the interviewer called at the scheduled time. It was a phone interview!!!!! He didn't say that!!!!! I found a dingy secluded stairwell. As if to taunt me, one of the first questions he asked was "have you ever been to the building?"

Me, through gritted teeth: yeah! actually I'm here right now, haha... to scope it out, you know... get a lay of the land..... it's really big... Lots of glass walls...

Him: oh that's nice.

I don't remember most of the questions, but I do know he asked me what my favourite games were. I said Undertale and Life is Strange (they had come out that year), but he'd never heard of them. Maybe I should've said Far Cry or something but what if he quizzed me on it?

Round 2:

I should not have made it to this round. I was coasting entirely on the goodwill of my teacher's sister, who was high up the chain. She interviewed me next. I think her only question was whether I would be okay working long gruelling hours with little support and no overtime.

Me, blissfully unaware of crunch culture being a massive human rights issue in the industry: bring it on!!

Her: what? 🤨

Then she ushered me into a room to take a pencil and paper test. While waiting earlier, I'd frantically googled and memorised a bunch of Ubisoft games, so I could answer the one asking me to list eight of them. I figured I could have gotten away with saying Assassin's Creed and adding a random number to the back though.

The biggest problem was on the other side of the paper: a diagram of a gaming controller asking me to label the buttons. Here's the thing. I'm a PC gamer. Always have been. At the time, my only experience with console gaming was playing Little Big Planet with my best friend when I was twelve, at her house. And I wasn't very good at it! I think I fundamentally lack the hand-eye coordination for console gaming, but that's just a guess because I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever used a controller. And I can count on one hand the number of controllers I have in that hand! It's zero! I knew the wiggly antennae were for movement and the buttons on the sides did esoteric things that people will yell at you to press during crucial moments, but that was it. I ended up labelling the buttons the shapes they were (circle button, triangle button, square button etc).

The interviewer came back into the room after about 15 minutes and said I now had an hour to play an unfinished level of Assassin's Creed, identify as many bugs as possible, and record them on a spreadsheet. And even though she set me up at a computer monitor, I still had to use a controller. Are you kidding me! This was the Victorian era Assassin's Creed. I had never played any AC games before, so I didn't know what were bugs and what were features. Was "can't jump" a bug? Was "invisible wall surrounding staircases"? What was the format and lingo you were supposed to use when recording bugs? I made no progress towards the quest at all (I did not understand it or who my character was), just wandered around and wrote down things I noticed and didn't like until time was up.

Anyway, that's the tale of how I didn't get a job I was woefully unprepared and underqualified for and in retrospect didn't want all that much. Maybe what I really wanted was to be... was Ayn Rand.

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sibylsleaves · 1 day ago

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Recently have been growing increasingly compelled by Buddie despite never having seen a single episode of 911, purely through internet exposure to their insane codependent homoerotic swagger. anyway I am curious as to the fandom’s general faith level in potential Buddie canon? I have had deep skepticism drilled into me by participation in past queerbait fandoms lmao, but also hearing about some of the writing choices being made just has me like… if canon Buddie endgame is not the goal then literally what are they doing. But again I’ve been burnt before. So would love to just get your/your followers’ take on this - when y’all say 2025 is the year of canon Buddie, how serious are you?

hmmmm i feel like you want me to assure you that it is definitely for sure 100% happening for real and you will not get hurt by hoping which obviously i cannot do because i am not tim minear nor do i claim to understand the perverse workings of his mind. i would love to say that all the writing is pointing that direction (it is) and that they made buck canoncially bi (they did) without in any way pulling back on the intensity, ambiguity, and importance of his relationship with eddie and if anything only started leaning into it even more (all true) and THEREFORE it's inevitable. but unfortunately we are dealing with a man who, among other sins, pulled a dead wife look-a-like doppleganger out of his ass so you can understand my dilemma.

but if you are asking is it worth getting invested in this ship, then my answer is a resounding 100% yes because when it comes to writing buck and eddie's relationship, they truly have not missed once. so the options are a) they actually do the insane thing of making a slowburn queer relationship on network tv happen for real and we all win huge and explode forever or b) they keep writing buck and eddie the way they have been writing them for 7 years while refusing to ever put a name to this quasi-life partner-coparent-best-friends-most-important-person-in-each-others-lives-which-no-one-can-ever-measure-up-to relationship which i can't deny i still find plenty compelling.

anyway im sure there are a number of my followers/mutuals who would be happy to explain exactly where the confidence in canon buddie 2025 comes from but for me i will just say. is it not a joy in itself just to believe in love?

#sibyl answers #anon #anyway you should join us anon. it's fun and unhinged and it's only gonna get more fun and unhinged

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made-my-peace-with-all-the-bad · 3 days ago

Text

Thinking about Soda the week Ponyboy was gone.

How much he struggled. How he knew his baby brother was gone and didn’t know if he was coming back. How his girlfriend, no- ex girlfriend, had left him with only a letter telling him she was pregnant and it wasn’t his. How he was watching Darry not eat or sleep. How he tried to sleep, but the bed was too big and too cold without his little brother. How nightmares followed Soda in sleep. How he tried to keep them hidden. How he would wake up in the middle of the night, paralyzed in fear. How he’d wake up with tears streaming down his cheeks, heart hammering in his chest, and reaching for a brother that wasn’t there. But he couldn’t tell Darry that. His older brother didn’t need more to worry about. So, Soda ignored it. He pretended he was fine and hoped Darry didn’t notice the growing bags under his eyes.

It wasn’t until the fourth day without Pony that Soda couldn’t take it. That night, he’d woken up worse than before. A steady breath was just out of reach, leaving his breathing shallow and fast. He could barely hear over the ringing in his ears and he knew that he needed his brother. So he’d crept out of bed, and walked into the living room, where he knew Darry would be. And sure enough, there he was, sitting on the couch, head in his hands and phone less than a foot away. How Darry had looked up at the creaking floorboards and was met with a sight that broke his heart. He watched his little brother stand in front of him, trembling, tears running down his face, red eyes, and looking so small. Darry had opened his arms and Soda had just about collapsed against him. How Darry just held Soda and rocked him back and forth. In that moment, it hit them. Their baby brother might not come home. And Soda cried and shook in the comfort and safety of his big brother. And Darry held his little brother close and whispered comforts in his ear.

Eventually, Soda had calmed down and when Darry suggested he go back to bed, Soda shook his head as the fear that his older brother would fade away gripped him. He refused to go back into the dark hallway and into what used to feel like a tiny bed, but now seemed giant in his all too quiet room. But he also refused because he knew if he accepted, Darry would continue to stay awake, hoping Pony would call. And Soda couldn’t watch that, Darry was approaching 72 hours without sleep, and he was killing himself slowly. So, Soda spoke up, and in the smallest voice, a voice not even thought possible from a guy like Soda, he whispered “can I stay with you tonight?” And that shattered Darry. Because his little brother needed him and he was so focused on waiting and praying for a call that wouldn’t come. So, Darry shifted them to a standing position, and walked with his brother back into his room. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, and it wasn’t quite comfortable, but nothing could make Soda separate from Darry. Soda gripped onto him and refused to let go, because if he was holding onto him, that meant he was still there. That meant Soda wasn’t losing another brother. He wasn’t losing the little piece of his family he knew he still had.

#me? making soda suffer? yeah what else is new #the outsiders musical #the outsiders broadway #the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darrel curtis #darry curtis

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bokutosbabe · 18 hours ago

Note

*Pokes my head in through your window*

Good morning, I'm here for the 'More Than A Married Couple, But Not Lovers' event. I'll like to request 🍑+🧁 with Yukimiya Kenyu.

well good morning ! ( afternoon as this is posted )

a yukimiya kenyu peach cupcake :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° home is wherever you are

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — yukimiya kenyu x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends to lovers, their moms are also best friends, reader tries to deny their feelings for yukimiya

♡ synopsis — from the second you were born, your mother swore you were meant to marry her best friends son, yukimiya kenyu. maybe they'd accept just a fake marriage?

You and Yukimiya Kenyu had been attached at the hip for as long as you could remember.

Your mothers were best friends, bonded by years of shared secrets, inside jokes, and matching visions of the future. And somewhere along the way, that vision started to include you and Yukimiya—together.

“When they grow up, they’ll get married. Mark my words,” your mom would say with a wink.

Yukimiya’s mom always chimed in with a dreamy sigh, “They’re perfect for each other. Just look at them!”

You and Yukimiya? Perfect for each other? You’d laugh it off every time.

But no matter how much you tried to ignore their teasing, the words stuck.

The years passed, and the two of you became inseparable. From sharing homework to cheering him on at soccer matches, you were there for every high and low.

You knew everything about him—the way he hummed when he was deep in thought, how he needed his tea just right, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his dreams.

And he knew everything about you.

But no matter how close you were, there was always an unspoken rule between you: don’t cross the line.

When the marriage simulation program paired you together, you’d both burst out laughing.

“Of course it’s you,” Yukimiya said, shaking his head with a small smile.

“It’s like the universe is conspiring with our moms,” you joked, though your stomach flipped at the thought of living with him for weeks.

You didn’t expect much to change. After all, you’d been friends forever. This would be just like old times—right?

It wasn’t.

Living together was different.

For one, you started noticing things you hadn’t before. Like how he always smelled faintly of citrus, or how his hair looked when he stepped out of the shower, damp and a little messy.

And then there was the way he looked at you—so soft, so open, like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. This was just Yuki. He was thoughtful, sweet—he’d always been like this.

But the more time you spent together, the harder it became to convince yourself that your feelings were strictly platonic.

It all came to a head one evening.

You were sitting on the couch, flipping through the program’s assignments, when he spoke up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unusually tentative.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about what our moms used to say? About us getting married?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Uh, sometimes. Why?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I used to think it was ridiculous, you know? Like, they were just joking around. But…”

You waited, holding your breath.

“But now I’m starting to wonder if maybe they weren’t entirely wrong.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Yuki,” you said softly, your chest tightening.

He looked at you, his expression both nervous and hopeful. “I know this is probably the worst time to say this, but I—” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I like you. More than just as a friend. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”

Your heart felt like it was about to burst. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted. “But now… I can’t pretend anymore.”

You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his arms were around you, holding you close.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore either,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest.

The simulation ended a few days later, but your relationship didn’t.

For once, your moms were right.

And this time, you didn’t mind one bit.

i love yukimiya so much it's unhealthy

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#★ · airybcbyy #airy posts #bllk #blue lock #airy answers asks :)#bllk x reader #yukimiya kenyu #yukimiya #kenyu #kenyu yukimiya x reader #yukimiya kenyu x reader #yukimiya x reader #kenyu yukimiya #blue lock x reader

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eye-may · 20 hours ago

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Do you have any Munkustrap headcanons mayhaps? The people would love to hear it if you do <3

I was waiting for someone to ask about Munkustrap!!! granted I would have yammered about him unprompted eventually anyway but YAY!

pls accept this speedy doodle of Munk having, what I imagine is one of very many, serious conversations (tm) with with his protegee Alonzo <3

"alonzo I told you the kittens could not watch terrifier 3. I say the things I say for a reason. now neither of us will be able to sleep for a week."

all kidding aside, yesss I have a LOT of thoughts about Munkustrap and how he and his story drive a lot of things that happen in my fanverse lol. I'll keep it relatively brief for now because if I don't moderate myself I'll end up writing 100k words worth of incomprehensible diatribe. somewhat abridged yammering beneath the cut!

edit: this mostly ended up being formatted in extensive elucidations on his relationships with other cats, with references to his backstory through that...which I hope isn't baffling lmao hopefully yall can make sense of it

✨Personality

My Munkustrap is pretty heavily based off of 98's Gruberstrap. That is to say, he's a very "warm" version of the character, a softer and more patient leader compared to some other interpretations where he errs on the side of strict and stringent.

Munk has a pretty troubled background (not unlike Tugger and Alonzo), but I place his symbolic age at around 30-35 so that he's still young and has things to learn and growing to do, but still old enough to have already matured and wizened up past a matrix of self-destructive idiosyncrasies he has dealt with in the past. He may not fully realize it, but he wasn't entirely dissimilar to Tugger in his adolescent days (at least, insofar as feeling governed by his emotions). The temporal distance from his early youth has enabled him to mellow out, think more clearly, and capitalize on his better attributes such as decisiveness, a good grasp on strategizing, and being empathetic and caring.

He is, of course, known to be a straight arrow...that is to say, very about rules and order, following traditions, establishing a hierarchy, having respect for authority and elders, etc. However, he is not immune to lightheartedness and joking around. He's a good, gentle playmate with the kittens on occasion. He lives for directing plays (although subversively he might take them a little too seriously sometimes lmao). He definitely lets a Dad Joke slip out every once in a while. He can read and write, and is pretty erudite about a handful of subjects that extend beyond life in the Junkyard. He's a pretty well-rounded chap!

He's not particularly spiritual or mystical, but has always been fascinated by the mysticism inherent in felinity, and has a unique connection to the concept of magic due to his connection with Old Deuteronomy. He's more naturally attuned to felinity in every corporeal sense, and has strong and thoroughly-developed opinions about the meaningfulness of Jelliclehood along with its history and customs.

He's gentlemanly and intelligent, courageous and dignified, so a pretty archetypal 'leader/hero' character. his faults are brought out by adversity with which he is not familiar...as someone who prefers adhering to precedent and keeping everything in order, he feels very challenged by untrodden territory. While he's good at thinking on his feet, he's also prone to overthinking after the action, and letting that repressed sentimental side from yesteryears cloud his approach. When he's feeling menaced by uncertainty, you'll see those cognitions buoy to the surface...overprotectiveness, stubbornness (sometimes he's bad at listening to suggestions!), over-intensity, and over-worry that he tries his darndest to conceal. He may periodically fall into lapses of "work-life imbalance," for turn of phrase (feels weird because we're talking about mystical dancing singing cats but you get it).

Perhaps his biggest fault is difficulty ceding control. There is no bigger control freak in the Junkyard, even though many would probably assume that the title goes to Jenny. Jenny is more ostentatious in her form of leadership, yes, but Munkustrap is far more immoderate when it comes to judging what he can feasibly handle. Bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders, after all, does not a healthy habitude make. Munkustrap's elders...namely Jennanydots and Old Deutoronomy...occasionally remind him of that.

He also perpetually Tired (but doesn't show it!) and, despite maintaining his veneer of cool-headedness, does in fact Have Anxiety lol.

🫂 Notes on Relationships

Tugger - They are half-brothers, and symbolically, there's about 10-15 years between them. So the age gap is significant, but Munkustrap isn't exactly old enough to be his father (try as he might to parent him in the frequent absence of Old Deutoronomy). Truly the Annoying Younger Brother Ever, Tugger gets on his nerves faster and more effectively than just about anybody in his life. Granted, their pasts respective of each other aren't the most conducive towards a harmonious, peaceful relationship, but the same circumstances are what make their bond so close and significant. If it weren't for Munkustrap extending the olive branch to a very misled young Tugger, the latter would have never been able to severe himself from Macavity. Meanwhile, Tugger's effects on Munkustrap are less literal and obvious but just as significant. He acts as a looser, more optimistically nihilistic buffer to Munk's razor-sharp edges, and frequently functions as a catalyst for Munkustrap to unearth a bevy of feelings and emotions he's long been in the habit of smothering. They frequently bicker and frustrate each other, yes, but they know how to work with one another when it counts, and they love each other very much.

Old Deuteronomy - Munk is one of a few examples of a child of Deuteronomy who was raised primarily by the latter; among cats, it's frankly more common for those born into colonies to have been "raised by the village." Munkustrap has always been very close to his father, has bottomless admiration for him, and abides by his platitudes unquestioningly. Deuteronomy recognized a unique fervor and emotional vulnerability in a young Munkustrap and allowed the latter to attach himself inextricably to him. it's because of this connection, and Munkustrap's unconditional adulation of his father, that Tugger has traduced him as being a rather ideal "little soldier."

After a huge fallout with Macavity (whole thing it's a WHOLE THING), Old Deuteronomy took Munkustrap and his other followers (including Skimble, Jenny, Jelly, Gus, and Asparagus) and splintered away from the colony, going onto to establish the Jellicle colony that inhabits the Junkyard, as seen in the actual musical. For a while, the group focused on rebuilding and recuperating, and succeeded harmoniously. but, after a while when the reconstructed colony was comfortably settled, Deuteronomy became more of an itinerant than Munkustrap had ever known him to be, coming and going patternlessly. Munkustrap knows that he can always attempt to reach out to Old Deutoronomy (there's a postal system cats use...again...whole other thing) in times of need (i.e., when Munkustrap learned about Tugger being in Macavity's possession) but at that point, Munkustrap became established as the de facto Secondary Leader and had to establish himself as capable and independent. He never outwardly questions what Deutoronomy is up to when he's away on his long sojourns to Who Knows Where...but he's never one to question his father. (Tugger, on the other hand...)

Macavity - Macavity is symbolically around five-ish years older than Munkustrap. Closer in age than Tugger and Munk, but the gap is still significant. Munkustrap was born into the same colony as Macavity, and the two did share a portion of their respective childhoods together; Munkustrap being, of course, rather worshipful of Macavity as a kitten. Macavity, for his part, engaged with Munkustrap, and the latter retains fond memories of their interactions...but he also remembers how, with the clarity of hindsight, Macavity seemed to "troubled" back then. He was a bit moody, but that's not wholly unusual for an adolescent cat! More uniquely, he seemed oddly attune to the Jellicle Moon...an evidently Mystical characteristic. He often sought solitude and was reclusive, cagey, secretive, and was obsessed with his developing his mysticism and harvesting magic of Deuteronomy's ilk.

Ultimately, Macavity attempted to persuade Munkustrap to join him in a staged rebellion against Old Deuteronomy; but, even at such a tender age, Munk knew better than to be cajoled, and ultimately sided with his father. He tried in earnest to talk Macavity out of his pursuit of power, but of course...it was fruitless. And the ramifications were abominable. Ultimately, Macavity attempted something of a mutiny that resulted in the deaths of Munkustrap's mother, his two littermates, and the injury or loss of many of his friends and cats he considered to be family. To this day, Munkustrap blames himself for knowing of Macavity's designs, but underestimating him and failing to prevent the disaster. He vowed to never allow such calamity to befall his loved ones again, which manifests in the fiercely protective persona for which he's known. Whatever love existed between the two brothers has been seemingly lost to time; Munkustrap has grown past his bitterness, anger, and desire for retribution...but what's left in the wake are sadness, regret, and wariness.

Mistoffelees - The youngest of the protag trifecta of Munkustrap/Tugger/Mistoffelees (for purposes of not getting lost in the sauce, they are, in my mind, the Kirk/Spock/Bones so to speak), Mistoffelees is something of a little brother/son/protegee ??? person??? to Munkustrap. Their relationship is a little hard to compartmentalize, but it's warm and familial all the same. Munkustrap sort of supplies to Mistoffelees what Deuteronomy was to Munkustrap. The magical cat, of course, is far from the first youngun to ever stumble into Jellicle territory in need of reprieve, but usually raising the new arrivals is a village effort. And it still was for Mistoffelees, but Munkustrap zeroed in on him in particular for two major reasons: his inexpendably cathartic effect on Tugger, and the whole Being Magical. Munkustrap remembered, of course, the quixotic fascination his older brother had with magic and the legends surrounding it, and his own proclivities towards harvesting and using it, but Munk was not prejudicial towards Mistoffelees because of that. He knew from the onset that Mistoffelees and Macavity are incomparable, and wanted to make sure that Mistoffelees would never lose touch with the goodness at his core. He also wanted to solidify that Mistoffelees would not be treated differently because of his abilities, but would get to enjoy a normal and secure upbringing. Also...he intuited immediately that it was important for Macavity to Not Find Out about this inexplicably magical cat. (Magical Cats aren't exactly unheard of but they're really not...supposed to be able to exist anymore lmao)

In return for Munkustrap's warmth and extensions of care and friendship, Mistoffelees has always been eager to be helpful and useful, and often functions as a "right-hand man" for the Jellicle Protector in many of the banalities of life in the Junkyard. Despite his aloofness and eccentricities, Mistoffelees has always sought to please and prove himself to Munkustrap, despite the fact Munkustrap has always had confidence in him and never required proof or reassurance that the conjurer was someone he could trust and rely on. hhhhh idk their relationship is cute to me!!! they're cute!!!!

Alonzo - Alonzo and Munkustrap have a lot in common...like Munkustrap, Alonzo's early youth was peppered by loss and grief, disasters outside the scope of his control for which he still blames himself. Also like Munkustrap, it is because of these developments that Alonzo has sworn himself to be a protector for all those he holds dear. But, unlike Munkustrap, Alonzo is heavily saddled with endless self-doubt, self-flagellation, and fear. He's around Tugger's age, and Munkustrap recognizes how much learning and growing he needs to do, but also recognizes the drive and intensity propelling him towards becoming either a mess of self-destruction, or a rocksteady protector and friend on whom others can rely. Munkustrap instinctively took Alonzo under his wing, becoming his unofficial mentor, and is pretty much the only cat toward whom Alonzo is open and affectionate. The latter often goes to Munkustrap in times of doubt and fear, but also focuses on impressing and emulating the Jellicle Protector in any way he can. When it comes to being backed up during an altercation, or any matters concerning the security and safety of the colony, Munkustrap knows he can rely on Alonzo above anybody else to back him up. The two are very brotherly and familial with one another, and together make a duo that I, personally, would not fuck with.

Also, importantly, Alonzo supplies a sort of catharsis for Munkustrap as well. While the Protector may not realize it, being able to guide and mentor Alonzo functions as something like reparation for his own past failures; now he's able to pass on the lessons he's learned so that Alonzo won't make the same mistakes he made, and Alonzo being his protegee reassures him that he's capable of positively influence those who are in his care. (which he doesn't often conscientiously doubt, but losing his family instills fear in the back of his head that he'll fuck up in any way with his new family, a fear that's usually surfaced in conjunction with Tugger)

Jenny - She is a surrogate mother figure to Munkustrap, and one of the only cats to whom he yields his absolution of authority in the absence of Deuteronomy. (not unlike the way Kirk often has to cede to McCoy...two star trek references in one post about cats??) He's known her his entire life, and she has always been a source of comfort and guidance towards him that is similar, yet still different, in comparison to Deuteronomy. I like to think Jenny is one of the few cats that Munkustrap would ever go to for advice or consolation, and also one of the few cats who will openly question his approaches or point out his shortcomings. (it comes from a place of love!) Munkustrap also just thinks she's hilarious. A heavily burdened cat like him needs the unique combination of comfort and levity that a cat like Jennyanydots can provide! together they have a lovely rapport <3

(here comes the somewhat controversial takes pfffttt. you can flame me if you want idc it's the internet and I know what I signed up for lmao but if you are a demestrap purist who may become emotionally compromised by the suggestion that a romantic connection between the two is Not A Given, feel free to skip this part)

Demeter - listen. I know you're wondering but I'm going to keep it short for now okay. suffice it to say, they have a bit of a back-and-forth, so to speak, mostly stemming from Demeter trying to navigate the residual damage of her troubled past (and.....present) but. my version of Munkustrap is on the aroace spectrum (hides) and so instinctively doesn't move in on Demeter out of an impulse to "rescue" or "fix" her. And for her part, whenever she does indicate an interest in anybody, it's not like she's driven by a long-sufferer's Need For True Love. And even if it were, I'd lampshade that as Not A Good Basis For A Relationship. like idk it's a complicated thing, but regardless, I think she's a fascinating character on her own, far outside the realm of her sensuality and her relationships with the male characters lol.

So continuing, Munkustrap doesn't overstep the fact that she's an adult who can make her own decisions, and also he can see with his own eyeballs that she errs on the side of indecisive regarding her estimation of Macavity, and morality in general, and his mind is not clouded with "I Am A Straight Man In The Presence Of A Beautiful Woman" so as to persuade him to, for some reason, insist that she's not capable of making poor decisions, and trust her judgment above anybody else's in a comparable situation. He, of course, would like to help her, within reason, like he would like to help any cat who expresses interest in being a part of the colony and embracing the mores of Jelliclehood. And he is, of course, kind and helpful towards her because that's the kind of cat he is. and it has nothing to do with an urge to romance her. 😬 or protect her with anomalous fervency because She's Just A Girl (honestly idc about any implications regarding gender roles that have wormed their ways into various versions of CATS bc these are CATS and they lack culturally gendered expectations/roles and also they lack secondary sex characteristics)

because Demeter is rather flighty and cagey, and Munkustrap is a Busy Bee, it takes a while for the two of them to even really become friends, and when they do, there are still some ups and downs granted by a bevy of contrasting opinions/idiosyncrasies endemic to the respective characters. Once he gets to actually know her, Munkustrap does believe in Demeter and encourages her to make progress, but he doesn't hover over her or fuss over her more than he does any other of his adult friends lmao. in the few instances that she behaves in a sensual manner towards him, he's like...ig open to it, but again, he's on the aroace spectrum and navigates those kind of connections within that realm, which To Me means that, in his case, he's never governed by romantic, sensual, or sexual impulses/attractions. bc listen. I just love a male hero who is not ultimately fulfilled by A Woman's Love and Having Children (those things are great for some people!!! pls don't think I am suggesting otherwise lmaooooo)

if it seems like these past few paragraphs have a defensive tone...it may be because I operate in anticipation of being condemned by passionate shippers (and also I too am on the aroace spectrum and thats not for nothing lol) but like I said it's the internet and ik what I signed up for. I have nothing against believers in demestrap. not to mention that yk, hal.........it's about cats.

anyway!!!! Munkustrap has a meaningful relationship with everyone at the Junkyard, but I'm gonna stop here for now lol. I could write a passage for every possible combination of every possible pairing of cats but I have already gone beyond the scope I originally imagined pfft. I hope this gives an adequate enough glimpse into how I construe him and his personality and a little bit of his backstory. sorry if's confusing af, or if I focused too much on other cats. also I alluded to a few things that I'm not even sure I've expanded on before. but if you made it through this whole thing and if you care at all about my fanverse pls don't hesitate to ask for expansion or clarification on anything

ty for the ask!! <3

#cats musical #cats the musical #munkustrap #jellicle tag #the rum tum tugger #rum tum tugger #macavity #old deuteronomy #jennyanydots #demeter cats #mistoffelees #alonzo cats #sometimes I entertain the extremely self-indulgent notion of making a wix site that functions as a wiki portal for my CATSverse lmfao #as like a hobby #and then I can just link ppl to the pages pffftttt

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yetanotherhiddlestoner · 2 days ago

Text

Summary ~ Daryl finds a journal on a supply run and reads it, what will happen when he sees the world through someone else's perspective?

Words~2937 Warnings ~ None. (GIF not mine, all credit goes to yiiiikesizzy) Happy New Year to all. Hope you all had a great Christmas and New years. I am currently trying to update The Entries and I fell hard, You'll fall harder asap.

The Entries Chapter 3.

Entry 28~ "This entry is not one of mine, but one of the ladies who lives in our community. Last night on watch we were sitting together, she started talking, I started writing, I want to others to know their stories are just as important as mine. Her name - Marie. Her age - 56.

Her story - Marie was born into a poor family, growing up on a farm she learned to grow veggies and tend to the animals as a way to save money when it came to everyday items. Daily she would go out and gather the eggs from the chickens, her family for breakfast, she would cook for her parents while they did what they could to earn money.

Marie was home schooled most her life, her parents couldn't send her to school, they couldn't afford the uniforms and school supplies, so her mother used to take 3-4 hours out of her busy day to sit and teach her English, spelling, math's, and other important things one would need to know.

As she grew into her early 20's she met the love of her life, Alf, Alf was much like herself, coming from a poor family, after the wedding, they bought a house not far from her parent's farm and Alf and her worked on it daily as he parents grew older each day. When the fall came, her parents, were sadly already passed, it was just her and Alf, who unfortunately was taken one day off the streets in the very first days of the outbreak, she witnessed it from her car, he just walked out of the store and was attacked and left to bleed out, Marie was about to get out of the car to try and help her husband but the killer charged at the car, blood covering their body, teeth snapping against the window, scaring Marie into leaving her husband behind. Marie doesn't know if he turned as she sped down the road to their home in the small town. That town was taken over by the dead in just a couple days, everything she knew was gone. She tried to hold out in her house for as long as she could but in the end when a small herd of her fallen friends headed to her door, she gathered what she could and drove away. We found Marie, hiding up a water tower, she was so scared. If we hadn't had rescued her, she was ready to accept her fate. Every day she wishes to see her Alf, and I can't blame her, her one true love might be out there aimlessly wandering the streets or is dead. We will never know, and I think that is what makes it hurt for her, she didn't get a chance to say goodbye, to tell him she loved him one last time. A love like hers, is never ending even in death." Daryl finishes reading the entry and his heart aches a little. He knows the pain of loss with his brother, Merle and then Beth and even though they weren't like Alf or Marie, he knew how it feels to not having a chance say goodbye.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Where exactly are we goin?" You ask. "We heading to our neighboring community called the Commonwealth. But first stop is the Kingdom," "The Commonwealth? Sounds fancy in this day and age." You reply, gaining a chuckle from Aaron.

"Well, if you think that is fancy wait till you hear about the Kingdom, which does in fact have a King, King Ezekiel." "You're kidding right? You have some random person calling himself a king?" "Ezekiel is a good man, you will meet him soon, we often move between communities to help each other, you'll fit right in."

You pause; they want to offer you a place to stay? "What if I don't want to stay there?" You ask, you never been a type to settle in a place to long and these communities sound too good to be true. "We are almost there, then you can be the judge on what you want to do, but we need to have the doctor check you over"

You stay silent for the rest of the way to the Kingdom, eventually the walls appear before you and the gates open inwards, allowing the vehicle entry, one by one you all get out of the car, Aaron holds your arm as you slide out, helping you stand, not allowing you to put too much weight on your injuries.

You are greeted by Jerry, who smiles at you and welcomes you to the Kingdom. Aaron explains how they came to find you and that he is going to take you to the doctor quickly before seeing the King.

Once you get to see the doctor, he gives you a quick once over, cleaning the cuts you have on you from running through the trees in your escape, making sure to take not that you were indeed not bitten. He has to stitch one up and bandage it then tells you to rest for a couple days just to allow your body a chance to heal. You nod and leave the small room, following Aaron. "Everyone here is so carefree" you say as a couple walk past you and smile. "We are safe behind the walls. We have a fully functioning community. We have patrols day and night, we have gardens which give us our vegetables and fruit, we have the farm as well, we currently have a couple of us on supply runs, which you will meet in a couple days if you decide to stay with us. This is a place you can call home Y/N" To say you were impressed was an understatement. This place was unbelievable, everyone going about their day, like the old days, people here didn't have to worry about running for their lives every minute of every day, they were laughing, chatting with friends. As if death didn't linger outside the massive walls and gates. "Home? I have been on the go for years; I don't even know what classes as safe anymore" You admit to Aaron. "I get it, it will take time for you to adjust, but you will get to make friends here and live the life you want. You can choose what you want to do, like to you want to go on runs with us? Patrol with us. Or just settle down and do the gardening and tending to the animals. You are allowed to visit our other communities to see which one fits you best, if you happen to find some of your camp then you can stay together. We don't want to force anything on you, just we are safer in numbers then alone out there." When you meet Ezekial, your shocked at how joyous and fun he is to a person they just bought into his community. He talks to you as if he been a friend for years, his smiles are contagious, you find yourself laughing for the first time in years. Ezekial offers a small house for you to rest in while your there, it has a bed, a kitchenette and a bathroom with running water and electricity. Maggie goes and brings you clean clothing and a small basket of food before leaving you to relax. You can't decide on what you want to do first, shower, eat or just lay on the bed and breathe. You drop your backpack on the bed and shake it out, laying out all the bits and bobs, camera, books, journals, batteries, pens, a small pocketknife, your hunting knife, you take note that no-one took your weapons from you while you were passed out, but you have no doubt they didn't go through your bag. They didn't see you as a threat, which was a good start. You take off your rings and choker placing them on your bedside table before deciding to have a shower, the first hot shower you have had in God knows how long and you plan to savor the feeling. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The days pass on the road, Daryl sits in the truck for a change, his bike in the back of the truck while Carol drives, Morgan sits in the middle. This run proved to be successful, the truck is full of much need supplies, clothing, bedding, things for the children. Daryl is quite happy with how this went, they encountered walkers but luckily not a horde, he watches as the fields of green and trees fly past as the walkie talkie crackles, meaning they were back in range of their friends. "Carol? You there?" A voice comes though it was Maggie. "Morgan here, Carol's driving. Anything wrong?" Morgan asks. "Nothing wrong, just seeing how it went" "Went well, we got a lot more than we thought we would. We might stop at the Kingdom first, then go to Alexandria, see what we can drop off there and we know they need things picked up." "That is great news, we got some newcomers to both the Kingdom and Commonwealth, it's been a busy week for us here, helping them get settled." "Newcomers? how many?" "4 at the commonwealth and 1 currently resting at the Kingdom with us." Carol looks at Daryl as he grabs the walkie

"Did you ask them the questions.?" He asks. "We asked our newcomer, the poor girl was running for her life, we almost hit her, she got a nasty gash on her leg that the good doctor has stitched up for her" She replies. "And you trust her?" Daryl asks, gruffly. "We trust her, we searched her belongings, she not a threat, she a little skeptical about staying here, but that is all" Daryl sighs, "Just be careful'" He grunts before giving the walkie back to Morgan. "We'll be there after dark, make sure the night guards know it is us arriving tonight" "Will do, I'll go inform them now" the line goes dead. Daryl closes his eyes and lets the sound of the engine null him to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------The morning comes, and you jolt up, forgetting where you were. Then it comes back to you, Kingdom, Aaron, house, bed. You lay back down and sigh. The sun filters though the blinds a little.

You quickly get dressed, placing your choker and rings on, you knife goes in your boot and you slowly open the door to see a truck in the middle of community. That wasn't there yesterday you think to yourself. Aaron waves you over as a motorbike gets pushed off the truck. "Good morning, Y/N, how did you sleep.?" He asks. "Great actually, did you get some more newcomers last night?" You ask, eyeing off the bike. "No this truck is our friends, the ones doing a supply run, they just returned last night, I see you eyeing off Daryl's bike. You got a thing for bikes?"

"My brother used to ride one, that is all, it's been so long since I have seen one that is working and in good condition." Aaron nods " Well maybe when Daryl wakes up hell be kind enough to let you check it out, he is very protective of his bike and bow and arrows" Aaron laughs. "Maybe, is there anything I can do to help?" you can't help but ask, knowing you should be resting but it wasn't in your nature to not lend a hand.

"Nope you are not allowed to help, Doctors orders" Aaron says tapping your back. "I can carry things Aaron, I am not going to stand here and watch, you saved me, I owe you guys" "Well to bad, you are not helping today" he says more sternly, and you know you can't talk your way into helping so you give up.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Daryl wakes up hours later, to Dog licking his face, he grunts as he wakes up, pets the mutt and decides to head outside to the garage. "Sleeping beauty wakes up I see" Carol says as she sharpens her knife. "Shut u'" he says gruffly as he starts to check out his bike, sitting on the ground, near the front wheel. "Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" She asks. "No, did you?" "Nope, but I am not the one in a bad mood." Daryl mumbles under his breath.

"So, have you met the newcomer? I spoke to her briefly after Aaron refused to let her help with unloading the truck. She seems nice, hopefully she'll choose ot stay here, I think she will fit right in" Daryl shakes his head and looks at Carol as she talks. "She just over there Daryl, why not go say hi?" Carol says nodding her head in the direction of you.

Daryl looks over, he sees the woman's back to him as she sits at the table, he notes how your head is down, your hair cascading down your back, either eating or reading, he can't tell. "Nah don't wan' to" he says before turning back to his bike. Carol chuckles to herself. "Fair enough but she might just surprise you" she says leaving Daryl to wonder what she meant.

Later that day Daryl goes back to his house and falls onto the couch, covered in sweat and grease, he quickly wipes his hands and grabs your journal. Dog jumps onto the couch and lays his head on Daryl's leg. Entry 29~

"I have decided to start documenting the stories of the survivors, for if there is a future generation they can see what we went through to survive as well as ways to survive and ways to kill a walker (you know just in case they don't know) This entry is about Alice and her two kids." "Alice and her kids were on vacation when the fall happened. Much like everyone else, they took the news as something that would blow over in a couple days, they had planned to celebrate her eldest birthday at Disneyland". Daryl sees that you have taped a photo of the first day they were there. Alice smiles brightly at the camera as her kids stand there beside her with even bigger smiles. "The first couple days was everything a child could dream off, rides, sugar highs, seeing their favorite characters, going on the rides until your stomach threaten to bring up your lunch. By the fourth day though, shit really hit the fan, it started in the park, she remembers lining up for a ride and hearing screams, they thought it was just the kids having fun on the rides but then people were running, pushing and shoving while the biters chased them and bit them."

"The happiest place on Earth, turned into a Nightmare in a blink" "Alice didn't know what to do, she picked up her youngest, grabbed the eldest hand and ran, going against the crowd, getting pushed and shoved, she remembers turning and running into a store, ducking behind merchandise. Hiding in there while the crowd ran, she kept running and hiding until she got back to the bus to head back to the hotel. The bus was empty. Alice remembers quickly placing her kids behind the seats and telling them to hide as she looked for the keys. With no luck she punched the wheel, the carpark started filling with screams and both dead and alive were starting to fill the area, in the chaos the driver ran up to the doors, covered in blood, screaming at her to go as some biters came up attacking him, he held them off, protecting her and the kids while getting bit himself, he nodded to his keys on his belt that she quickly unclipped and closed the bus doors as the biters took down the driver, feasting on his body. It wasn't long before they turned their attention to the bus, banging their bodies into the doors. Alice quickly put the keys into the ignition and drove out of the carpark, avoiding the cars that were trying to escape as they were dragged from their seats being bitten. People tried to get her to stop and save them but she ignored them, she didn't know what was safe or not. All she could keep thinking about what was saving herself and her children.

The rest is a blur for Alice, she was just happy to be alive with her kids, she decided to not return to their hotel, knowing that it wasn't safe. They slept on the bus that night, the kids cried themselves to sleep afraid now that their nightmares were real.

She drove that bus, stopping at service stations, grabbing food and drinks for her kids, weapons. She got enough petrol to keep the bus going for a few weeks but eventually it ran out, leaving her and the kids to start walking and looking for other modes of transportation. She taught her kids to fight, to kill the dead, she hates that they had to grow up so fast. Overtime she found our small group, Alice's children have grown up in a world where the nightmares don't end when the sun comes up and they understand that tomorrow is another day of fighting. I wish we could find somewhere safe for the children in our group." At the end of the page is a newer photo of Alice and her kids, Daryl closes the journal and sighs. The more he reads, the more he wonders what became of you and your group.

#daddy norman #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead #norman reedus #daryl dixon x female reader #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daddy norman reedus #daddy reedus

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