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justlemmeadoreyou · 2 months

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Hopelessly Devoted to You

In which Y/n just wants to leave her abusive husband, and Harry is hopelessly devoted to her

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Mentions of an abusive marriage, domestic violence and abuse, crying.

This one is going to be angsty, with two lovesick morons who are too scared to admit their feelings for each other. There are going to be mentions of abuse, so read at your own risk.

Dropping Ellie to school, she thinks this is her happy place. With her kid, talking about how she finds elephants interesting, how she loves eggos, and the girl who sits next to her bites her nails all the time.

She's smiling on the car seat all the way to the school, contrary to how she is at home.

She tries her best to shield her away from her god-awful marriage, but sometimes, it's too damn difficult.

Like last night, when as soon as Elliot was home, she had sent her to her room, which she had gotten soundproofed with the money she had saved for months. She had told her to lock the door tightly, because Daddy had come home.

As soon as he entered, she realized he was drunk.

That was just how he came home nowadays, drunk off his ass, not even understanding his surroundings. She wondered how he even managed to make his way back home.

He stumbled from the doorway, having struggled with his keys for over 5 minutes. She was already sweating by now, hands clammy and her heartbeat rising.

"The fuck, fucking-" he cursed as soon as he was in, throwing his shoes and socks away. He threw his bag away too, and stumbled till he reached the dining table, glaring up at Y/n.

She didn't say anything to him. Knowing he would get angry if she did.

"Give me water" he ordered, and she got one glass, holding it under the tap, filling it up with water. She turned it off, turning around, and giving it to him.

He drank it in one go, some of it falling on his shirt. Messily wiping his mouth, he threw the glass away, and she was startled.

"Where's my food?"

She went back into the kitchen, taking the plate she had already taken out for him, and placing it in front of him.

"What the fuck? How many times do I have to tell you, I don't like meatballs? Are you that fucking dumb that you can't understand?"

That's when he threw the plate away, and a couple utensils too, which were lying on the dining table.

She knew Ellie would've heard it, and she quickly took a few steps back, preparing herself to turn around and run away, in case he pranced at her.

And that, he did. Thankfully, she knew just how to run from him, so he wouldn't catch up to her, and locked herself in the room with Ellie.

He was banging at the door, screaming curses at her. Calling her everything she had hoped she would never have to hear again.

With Ellie crying in her mum's arms, with continuous banging on the door, that threatened to break it, she knew she wanted it to end.

She knew she wanted a divorce.

. . .

"I'll pay for the lawyer if you want. Money is no issue for me, you know that, Y/n" he said, genuinely wanting to help her out of this marriage. He wants the best for her, for her to be happy again. Whenever he looks at her, his heart beats faster.

He still doesn't understand why she still wears the wedding ring he gave her. She's moved on from him, but still carries pieces of him with her. Given, most of them are tears and hurt marks, and looking at them makes his heart cry. And the purple bruise on her neck makes him want to kill Elliot. Piece by piece. Break him, beat him up, to make up for all the times he did the same to Y/n.

Her hand is just inches away from his, resting softly on the armrest. His finger twitches, and he wants her to hold his hand, to tell her that she will be alright. But she won't.

And he can't.

She lifted her gaze, looking into his kind eyes. He was good...and sometimes, it felt as if he was too good to be real.

"Oh" she replied. It was the only way out for her, because getting money from her parents was a lost cause. Her friends couldn't help her too, because she was too deep in this shit to be pulled out easily.

"Think about it. Sleep over it too, maybe? You can tell me tomorrow, or the day after it. I'll be waiting" he says, and "for you, right here" remain lodged in his throat.

"Thank-thank you, Mr. Styles, I-You're so kind to me, to Ellie-" her voice breaks, and he knows she will cry if he doesn't stop her. "Everything you've done-"

"It's my job, Y/n. It's what I do for everyone. Some need less help, and some need more. It's no big deal" he reassures her, and she nods.

"But still, thank you so, so much. I'll-I'll forever be grateful to you for this" she smiles, and he smiles back. His dimples are on show, on soft, squishy cheeks, that she wants to caress, to hold, to place a soft kiss on.

"So, you can-you can call me when you've thought over it, and I'll get the paperwork started." he straightens his suit, and she clears her throat. "Yeah-yeah, I'll call you, Mr. Styles"

"You can call me Harry. Here's my card"

She smiles, taking the business card from him, and keeping it in the back of her phone cover. In case Elliot checks her bag, he's too dumb to look in her phone cover.

He smiles at her, despite knowing why she did it, and it breaks his heart even more.

. . .

Harry was a good person. She had met him at a summer camp she had taken Ellie to, where he had bought his niece, Evie. They were 4, and Ellie got super excited when she found out that their names began with "E". As soon as they met, they hit it off, holding each other's hand, and running away from Harry and Y/n.

"I'm sorry-she-she gets super excited sometimes, she doesn't listen" Y/n apologized, and that was the first time he looked at her. Into her pretty, pretty eyes, that made him seem dull.

"Oh-no, don't apologize, it's all right. She doesn't have kids of her age near her parents' home, so I took her here so she could have some fun"

"So-she's not your kid?" she asked, her hands fidgeting in front of her.

"No-she's my niece. My sister's daughter. I'm Harry" he said, offering her hand to her for a handshake.

She took it, smiling.

“I’m Y/n”

He seemed nice, bringing her niece for a weekend long camp. He seemed like the cool and care free uncle every kid wanted, who would let them do anything. As she looked into his eyes, an emerald shade with the brightest shine, she had no idea this stranger would be a lifesaver for her one day.

“So, you from around here?” he asked, taking his hand back. The handshake had lasted for much longer than they both intended, and to his surprise, his hand was all wet when he pulled back.

Y/n lowered her head, mentally cursing herself for being so weird.

“I’m sorry, Harry-I-sometimes get super nervous around new people, and my hands-they get all sweaty. I’m sorry”

“No, no, it’s alright. No need to apologize.” he wiped his hand on his beige pants, and she still felt bad for the faint spot that developed on which looked like custom tailored pants.

She turned, getting hold of her purse, and opening the chain. She fished out a fresh handkerchief, which she had kept for Ellie, because she always eats messily, getting crumbs all over her face and clothes. But Y/n adores it, and she smiles everytime she cutely says, “Mumma, hanky” with a bright smile, so proud of herself for that.

“Here-take this,” she offered him her napkin, a white one with pink flowers laced on it.

He will to keep it forever, he thinks.

And that he did, too. The same handkerchief, unused by him because he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that would make the softness, and the smell of her perfume laced in it, go away. It sits in his cupboard, in one of the two lockers that he has.

“Thank you” he takes it, stuffing it in his pocket.

They go for a walk after that, looking at all the camp-activities that were in the brochure. The swings, the activities, the areas allocated for different sports, with so many children running around with sports equipment.

“I think she really needed it, you know. She worked hard throughout the year, doing all her assignments and homework on time. She also did her science project all by herself, without even any help from me and Elliot. Can you believe that?”

She looked so, so pretty, talking proudly about her daughter.

“And Elliot is-?”

“My husband, yeah”

Harry thinks she would be proud, or happy, at least, while telling him that she has a husband. But she doesn’t, and she hopes he doesn’t notice the small frown that creeps up her face, her smile fading with just the mention of his name.

Unfortunately, he does.

. . .

Throughout the day, they spend time together. Sitting on the swings, talking bout their pasts and smiling and giggling, like a couple of teenagers in love. But, they’re far from that.

Y/n thinks she hasn’t been so happy in a while. She hasn’t laughed this much in a while too, nor had a normal conversation with an adult.

So, when Ellie told her there was going to be a week long summer camp, she made sure she was the one to go with he. She just wanted to step out of the house, and meet some new people, have normal conversations, unlike the screaming and arguing she endured almost everyday.

And Harry…well, he’s Harry. His heart skips a beat every time she smiles, so carefree and beautiful. The way her face glows in the sun, and the tiny crinkles that form when she squints them to see him in the sunlight. Her hair, that flows freely in the warm air, and the biggest smile on her face as she tries to tie them up, but they just keep slipping out of her grasp.

He can't help but be captivated by her presence, his gaze lingering on her with an intensity he can't quite explain. Her smile seems to light up the entire landscape, and he finds himself enchanted by the way she effortlessly radiates joy. Even though, she had been quite opposite of that for a while. He feels a warmth spread through him whenever she looks his way, a feeling he can't quite put into words but cherishes nonetheless.

Yeah, he’s in love with her.

(next part)

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! i might consider a part 2, because this was sitting in my drafts and i know this isn't soo good!

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888 @ladscarlett @daphnesutton @youcan-nolonger-run @prettythingsworld @chesthairrry @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs @hisparentsgallerryy @storyschanging @selluequestrian @islakp217 @swiftmendeshoran @princessaxoxo @tenaciousperfectionunknown

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silassinclair · 1 month

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Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CW// Possession, Obsession, Yandere Behavior, Jealousy, Suggestive Content, Gaslighting, Maddox has a housewife fetish (16+)

Masterlist

When Maddox first saw you hiding in your wardrobe after having killed your Father he was shocked to see such a pretty woman inside. He knew your Father had a daughter but he didn't know she'd be a fierce and beautiful young woman.

Maddox knew he had to have you. No way was he going to leave you in this bumfuck town in the middle of no where. You're too valuable.

He ties you up and takes you away from your hometown. You're his now so he's taking you with him wherever he goes. Having a pretty little accessory like you will give him bragging rights after all.

He takes you to saloons while he plays cards with his buddies. Has you sit still and look pretty on his lap while he drinks and plays. His friends say dirty things about you. Commenting on how submissive you are for Maddox. Maddox eats their comments up like a full course meal.

"You boys wish you had this fine piece of ass. But she's mine."

When you're at his temporary house he has you play housewife. You cook his food, clean his laundry, and most importantly you take him like a good girl and let him use you to pleasure himself.

"You like that yeah? You don't? Then shut your pretty little mouth n' take it anyway. Don't make me mad now."

But over the course of a few months and after spending more time with you he sees you less as an object to brag about and more as a companion. He sees you everyday so of course he develops feelings. Feelings he denies of course.

"You think cus' I'm being nice lately you can just skip doin' laundry? Well you've been a good girl this week so I'll let it slide... But you're doin' it tomorrow! No excuses!"

Maddox takes you to the saloon with him again as usual. This time the sexual comments his friends say make him see red. He draws his gun and shoots them all dead where they sit.

"I should have never let em' say that vulgar shit bout' you. Shoulda never let you in that shithole in the first fuckin' place. C'mon, we're goin' home."

Fucks you gently this time and prioritizes your pleasure over his. You're so cute mewling beneath him. Praises you instead of degrades you.

"You can take it princess, c'mon! Don't tell me to slowdown when I can feel how good you feel on me. Yeah that’s it, good girl. Doin’ so good for me… Ya’ feel divine~"

He slowly starts bringing you into town less often. When you ask why you can't come with him he simply says that you're safer at home.

A month goes by and you're tired of being holed up in his house. So you take the risk and leave while he's taking his afternoon nap.

Bad Choice….

"You thought you could leave me?! Baby I love ya', I really do but sometimes you're real fuckin' stupid."

Locks the doors, windows, and always has his eye on you. When he has to go out he keeps you tied to the bed by the ankle.

Every night he holds you close to him. He's a light sleeper, he'll feel if you move and try to escape him. If that happens he'll embrace you in a nearly bone crushing hug.

He’ll wrestle with you if you try and fight him, but he’ll never strike you. He’d never do that after seeing the abuse his Mother endured from her customers at the brothel.

Comes home one day with two golden rings. He wears one and forces the other onto your ring finger. It's a perfect fit.

"You're my wife now and I'm your husband. You'll address me as such, got it?"

No wedding, no priest, no judge, no documentation. He says you're his wife now and that's that.

"There's names engraved inside the rings.? That's just the name of the jeweler I got it from... Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

You two never get to settle down. You hop from one abandoned home to the other. After all he needs to always be on the run from the law. It's a stressful but exhilarating lifestyle. Danger lurks at every corner.

Loves calling you by his last name. Though your last name is still legally L/n; Maddox says that since you’re his wife you have his last name. After all you two are wearing the rings to prove it!

"Thank you for the meal Mrs. Graves, God you're perfect. Where have you been all my life?"

He adores your body. Doesn't matter what body type you have. Chub? He's kneading it with his hands while he praises you like the goddess you are. Insecure about how the outline of your ribcage is visible? He traces his fingers down to your tummy and then goes even lower... He can't keep his hands off.

Favorite thing to do is hug you from behind and just press your backside against him while you do chores. It feels so domestic and it makes him feel like he isn’t a wanted criminal for a moment.

Kisses? He loves to kiss you! His favorite spots are your ankles, tummy, and forehead. And your lips ofc!

Whenever you have to slip your stockings on he swats your hands away and does it. He’ll pull them up sensually and slowly, trailing kisses from your ankle up to your thigh as he does so.

“Your skin’s so soft princess, just wanna take a bite. You’ll let me right?”

He loves animals. His horse Jasper is his best friend. Jasper won't let anyone ride him except for you and Maddox. Anyone else gets thrown off and stomped on.

Since this is the 1800’s people don’t really bathe as often. But Maddox is different. He can’t stand having grime on him for too long after you called him stinky once. So now he bathes more often than most. And you bathe with him too. You have no choice in the matter.

“Mmm love it when you wash my hair sweetheart… Ya’ fingers feel like heaven..”

Maddox is a tough guy. He's taken bullets, stabs, you name it. He even survived a hanging once. If anything happens to you he'll fight God himself just to keep you safe. Even if it costs him his life.

"GET YA' MEATHOOKS OFF MY WIFE YOU FUCKIN' ANIMALS!"

Tells you he loves you everyday. And if you don't say it back? Well he'll just bug you until you say it. After your "marriage" he doesn't really punish you anymore. You’re his partner for life, you deserve the world.

Respects women. His Mother worked in a brothel so he witnessed how men mistreated women. He could never do that to you... Even though he did early in your relationship. But he'll never admit that! Bring it up and he'll call you crazy.

"Sweetheart I never harmed a hair on your head, quit talkin' nonsense."

Teaches you how to fire a gun just in case. Hopefully you'll never have to use the skill though.

Spoils you whenever he can. Maddox has a decent amount of money but it's still pretty tight. Buying you things isn't an option because being on the run means you need to have minimal baggage. So he treats you to dinners and cute little dates.

Overtime you get used to this life. You forget he ever even killed your old man.

Anyone is free to request anything! Don't be shy! I'm hyperfixiating on this oc so I'll happily write anything for him. As long as it isn't blatant NSFW :-)

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #obsession #headcanons #yandere headcanons #maddox graves #western #fem reader

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cultofdixon · 4 months

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Stress is a silent killer

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Don’t get me wrong, mothers are strong motherfuckers. But that doesn’t mean you can abuse an expecting mother’s abilities. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Pre-Term Labor Anxieties / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

Daryl silently returns his home he shares with Y/N who was currently seated in the living room wide awake. She was decked out to go outside the walls and search for him after the news but thankfully he came back in time before she risked herself at the hour it was.

“I’m sorry”

Y/N didn’t say anything, all she did was let the tears that build up roll off her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I walked away when yea first told me” His voice broke as he brought himself to kneel in front of her resting his hands on her thighs watching her tearful expression meet his gaze.

“I’m scared, Dar…”

“I know, me too. Cuz I want this. I want this with yea and I’m afraid of losing you…like Lori…or like…the others. I can’t lose yea to anythin’ or anyone.”

“You can’t…you can’t walk out like the way you did” She choked out through her sobbing as Daryl brought his hands onto her cheeks wiping away them while they fell. “Please…if you do that again, I’m only going to think the worse possible things”

“I’m stayin’ right here, sunshine. I’m never leaving again.” Daryl pushed himself forward and wrapping his arms around her as she did the same gripping onto his vest. “I’m never leaving you and this baby, I promise”

7 1/2 months later…

Another cold spring morning comes through causing the somewhat irritable not-a-morning person Y/N to bring herself to sit up the best she could given her “natural” circumference was different compared to the first and second trimester.

“Did you leave the window open?” She tiredly asks her husband who had sat up when she did, given the closer they get to 9 months the more he’ll be up and at it for anything.

“It was stuffy last night, yea asked me too” Daryl yawns stretching out his back hearing his partner hiss when she heard the occasional stretch out crack. “I’m good”

“Working on the wall repair does you no good…and I think I just forgot I asked you to open it” Y/N frowns bringing herself to the edge of the bed causing Daryl to get up in his shirtless glory about to close the window. “What are you doing?”

“I told yea you don’t have to get up and close it”

“I gotta get up and pee cuz a certain someone is stepping on my bladder.”

“So is that a no on me closing it for yea, love?”

“Can you please close it and help me stand up?” Y/N gave him a tired smile as he did exactly what was asked and while Daryl helped her up she couldn’t help but grab his face to bring him to her level to kiss him before separating to do what she needed.

“Are you sure you don’t need me or want me this morning? Rick completely understands why I can stay here” Daryl started to remind Y/N about the run he was asked to go on that involved stopping at the Hilltop to drop off supplies and go pick up more from the Kingdom.

“You pawned it off to somebody for the past two weeks. I’m not going to go into labor the second you leave. I’m not 8 months yet”

“Pre-term shit. You were put on bedrest during the second tri—whatever it’s called because your stress wasn’t helpin’” Daryl states slipping off his sweats to put jeans on when Y/N stepped out of the bathroom. “It’s easy for yea to stress out and back in the prison you passed out once cuz of it. Now you’re pregnant and Siddiq said it could cause more harm than good”

“Are you trying to stress me out now?”

“No, I’m just telling—-“

“It’s only for half the day. Both Maggie and Ezekiel know who you have to come back home to, they won’t hold you up and we also know Carol will shut Ezekiel up if he does start another endless conversation with you. You’ll be back before nightfall and I’ll be here waiting for my husband to come back”

The archer only gave her a worried expression because of how calm she was being, since a month ago she’d scream at him for just leaving the house. He brought himself over kissing her lovingly and holding her for as long as she let him, which could be hours and he’ll not be able to go anymore. But Y/N knew this trick.

“You seriously walking me out to make sure I actually go?” Daryl smiles walking his bike with his pregnant wife on the other side of such still wearing her sweats and one of his shirts.

“Did you forget about the morning and evening walks we do?”

“Nah I did not. Which reminds me to tell yea to wait for me for the night one. Take it easy walking back home and stay away from the new infusions”

Y/N whistled for Daryl to stop given she can’t maneuver fast enough to grab his arm. “Stay away from the new infusions?”

“Rick let in more ex-saviors to help around here. They are staying in the apartment looking houses” Daryl parked his bike a moment bringing himself to rest his hands on her belly. “Two of them are annoying shit stains of humanity. I don’t know the other one’s name but one of’em is Bryan and they’d much rather pawn their work off to somebody else”

“Daryl. I doubt they’d make a pregnant woman do shit”

“Well. I told Aaron to check on yea if he sees you doing anything sketchy”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Rick is at Oceanside, Michonne is watching a sick Judith, and the others are working on the bridge repair. You won’t let me stay to make sure you don’t over exert yourself. Somebody’s gotta check on yea and since he’s takin’ care of a baby girl at the moment? He’s more than happy to check up on you when Gracie is napping”

“You really have everything planned. Even have a radio?” Y/N smiles crossing her arms as he took out said device to show her resulting in a playful eye roll. “I’ll do my best, my love. But I’ve never seen those individuals before…you can’t blame me if something happened”

“Yeah, but I sure as hell can kill a man if he harms my wife and baby” Daryl states, sneaking in a kiss before getting his bike back up and heading toward the gates.

“I promise nothing will happen, Dar”

What was meant to be an easy day, turned into a weird one.

When the gates closed, Y/N held her belly for a moment feeling the shifting baby inside her make it a bit difficult to go immediately back to her home. She decided to take a longer walk around Alexandria, stopping occasionally to talk to her friends and see what they were up to improve their community. Then on her way back there were two Alexandrians carrying a few boxes to the pantry and infirmary. Both looked at her with curious expressions…

“Yo!”

Y/N ignored it at first until she flinched to the sound of the box dropping beside her.

“You’re Y/N right? The other Dixon in this place”

“Yes…? And you are?” She frowns, not liking the feeling the atmosphere gave when the individual didn’t share his name right away.

“I’m new here. Do you mind helping us with something?”

“Uhm I’m not exactly supposed to be…lifting anything heavy” Y/N gestures a bit on the obvious side about her pregnant belly as they both still gave stone cold stares.

“We’ll carry it to the pantry and infirmary. Just could use somebody to put it away while we bring the rest”

“Is Siddiq not her—-“

“Seriously, Dixon. You’re just pregnant not incompetent” one of them stated only for Y/N’s expression to go south as she supported her belly telling them that she’ll meet them in the pantry first to unload the boxes.

Once she stepped far enough, one of them couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.

“Cant believe that worked”

“Can it Bryan. We still gotta bring the boxes over then we can go fuck off for the rest of the day” The other scoffs picking up and the box carrying it to where it needed to be.

It had been a couple hours of putting supplies away in their perspective areas, thankfully Y/N has worked with Siddiq before so she knows where he likes everything to be. The doctor just didn’t expect to come back from checking on the little ones of Alexandria after lunch time to find Y/N standing on a stool putting away spare gauze in a tub that Siddiq put them in.

“Are you crazy?” Siddiq frowns watching Y/N stumble a bit unexpected as he quickly drop his medical bag to help his friend off the stool. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you in here?”

“Because I have to be useful!”

“Y/N what the hell do you mean?!” Siddiq frowns watching the discomfort grow on her face along with the tears forming. “Okay, come on. Sit down and tell me what happened” he made her sit on the gurney sitting with her.

“My husband—-“

“Did Daryl get hurt?!”

“No! He warned me about some slackers and I just. I didn’t think I was this stupid enough to fall for their shit” Y/N frowns wiping away her tears before wincing and holding her belly instantly. Siddiq pulled away to get the portable machine helping her lay down onto the gurney adjusting it for her to sit up. “It was just one damn conversation and I felt like I was being useless. We won that stupid fucking war. Lost a lot of people. Then this happened and it’s the best thing but all my hormones are all over the place—-“

“And that’s normal! It’s normal for hormones to take over control with all your other emotions.” Siddiq carefully rolled her shirt up to apply a bit of the gel and gently place the wand to check on the heartbeat. “Can you tell me your pain level? And I’m talking from the moment you’ve felt uncomfortable”

“A six…”

“Are you lying?” Siddiq stated watching the tears build up more. “Y/N how long have you been working today?”

“About an hour after Daryl left”

The look on Siddiq’s face only grew even more worried for his friend as he cleaned her up and before she even tried to get up, he carefully helped her back down grabbing a blanket to cover her.

“Siddiq—-“

“You’re having contractions and I don’t want you to force this baby out from your stress because it’s too early and while I think we can…handle that intense situation…I don’t want you to lose this baby if it goes south.” Siddiq frowns covering her more in the blanket and putting the gurney in the trendelenburg position to have gravity help slow the contractions. Before he pulled away to grab a few things that will help, Y/N grabbed his arm. “You stay here and I’ll get someone to radio Daryl to come back a bit early”

“You think he’ll…uh…y-you think he’ll be mad at me?” Her voice broke as Siddiq took her hand into both of his shaking his head.

“No. But when he finds out about who made you overwork, they aren’t going to see the next day”

By the time Siddiq got Daryl on the line, he was already making his way back to Alexandria and when he heard about his wife he was speeding even faster. Daryl parked in front of the infirmary, dropping his bike without another thought as he enters the building bringing himself to her side resting his hand on her belly.

“How are yea feeling?”

“I’m sorry—-“

“Love, please—-“

“I’m really sorry” Y/N broke down in a sob making her husband out of instinct gently wipe away her tears. “I’m really sorry I didn’t take it easy—“

“Y/N. I’m serious when I say this. You don’t have to apologize.” Daryl frowns rubbing circles on her belly watching her bring her hand over his. “Did Siddiq tell yea how long you’d have to be—-“

“She can go back down.” Siddiq interrupts the two coming down from his flat above the infirmary with a filled canteen for Y/N. “You can take her back to your home to be more comfortable in her bed but again, bed rest—-“

“Fuck” Y/N sobbed hating it already and she’s not in her own bed.

“Just for a week until your stress levels and blood pressure go down. Thankfully trendelenburg worked with the contractions but don’t want you, again, to overwork yourself” Siddiq set the canteen down to help Daryl get Y/N on her feet before giving her the filled bottle. “Don’t let her leave the house, then maybe nobody would abuse your hormones” he stated letting them be to finish what Y/N started before he made her rest.

After getting Y/N back home and in their bed, Daryl stuck by her side thinking of the words Siddiq had said before they left. But he wasn’t going to address it when she was still experiencing a bit of discomfort.

“You want another pillow?”

“Then what are you going to sleep on?”

“A mattress? I don’t need a pillow, just need my woman comfortable while she’s a human incubator” He jokes getting a short lived laugh out of her as he moves the extra blankets and his pillows to support her back and belly. When she first started getting uncomfortable, he tried looking for one of those pregnancy pillows that Carol had told him about but it was a lot of work and he didn’t want to leave her at all. Like he promised and is semi-regretting given he left to take care of business and some assholes were pushing her limits with emotional abuse.

“Daryl…?” Y/N tiredly calls out for him as he returns with her canteen filled for a fourth time since being home as he brought himself to sit on the edge of the bed setting her bottle on the nightstand.

“Yes, sunshine?”

“You still love me right…?” Y/N pouted only for Daryl to scoff at such a ridiculous question, leaning over to shower her in kisses making her bring her arms around his neck to keep him close for the moment. “Dar…”

“I’ll always love you. Even when yea risk yourself. But, imma stick by yea for the rest of this.” Daryl states. “No more tellin’ me I gotta go cuz I promised somebody. Someone else will get the work done, doesn’t have to be me and definitely doesn’t have to be you”

“Can you hold me tonight?”

“As long as you don’t kick me out of the bed when it got too hot” he laughs softly, bringing his lips to hers for a few short soft kisses before pulling away to get into comfortable clothing to sleep in and hold her.

The second Y/N fell asleep and was in deep enough sleep for the archer to slip away to check on a familiar hiding spot in Alexandria. Said hiding spot would have those who didn’t want others to notice they were smoking. Knowing damn well he’ll find the right men that have been bothering his partner.

“Ayo the other Dixon has retur—-“ Bryan immediately shut up when Daryl grabbed him by the collar forcing him against the walls of the community.

“You talk to my wife today? Mess with her and had your buddy over here help?”

“Dude I have no idea—-“

“Don’t lie. Don’t even try, or I will fucking end you right here and now” Daryl hissed shoving him harshly against the wall letting go of his shirt. He quickly turned to his buddy who put out his cigarette before holding his hands up defensively. “If I see you and or this son of a bitch near my wife or even hear about it, I’ll feed you both to the walkers after I’ve knocked the living shit out of you both. And don’t yea worry…I’ve got friends to let me know if yea fuck with the love of my life and soon to be mother of my child” and with that he took his leave letting the two regret their decisions and contemplate being moved to a different community to avoid the harsher Dixon. But even then, he’d tear them apart anywhere.

Y/N shifted slightly when the bed moved behind her, she relaxed instantly feeling her husband bring his arm around her pulling her into him.

“Where’d you go?”

“Got yea more water, and heard somethin’ outside”

“Another possum?”

“A pest that’s for sure”

“Mmm…” Y/N snuggles into his embrace getting comfortable as Daryl kissed her temple. “Nothing you can’t handle right?”

Right.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 1 year

Text

Someone's there.

Bucky x Reader

Summary: When you walk home from the office, someone seems to be following you home. Your best friend is not happy about that.

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Stalking/Stalker-Ex BF, Domestic Abuse, Anxiety, Angry!Bucky, Protective!Bucky, Panic Attack

AN: This is definitely not what I intended to write when I started but anyway. Have good day my dudes!!!

You stepped out of the office, pulling your coat tighter around you against the night. It was mid-November and New York was getting colder and colder every day that passed by. You were excited about Christmas - it was one of your favourite times of the year. The lights that went up from apartment to apartment, the tree and ice rink in Rockefeller center that you and your boyfriend - Nathan - visited every year, you and Nathan driving up to Boston to meet your family. Well, your ex-boyfriend.

You'd broken up a month ago. He'd been laid off about a year ago and taken up drinking to fill the time. Nathan was not a very nice drunk. He'd yell and throw things when he was angry, which was most of the time when he was drunk, and then beg you to come back, saying that he needed you and that he'd clean up his act as soon as he got a job. You had a well-paying job - secretary to the Avengers - but Nathan was always the higher earner of the two of you. You could hardly sustain his lifestyle on your job, but you stayed. Why? You had no idea.

Nathan was a smart guy, he got picked up by some major firm headquartered in Manhattan just over a month after he got laid off. He was back to his old routine of leaving the house at 6 and coming back by 8 - you hardly saw him anymore.

And much to your dismay, the drinking didn't stop. Sure, he slowed down. He couldn't risk ruining his reputation at his new workplace. So he limited the drinking to after work. But he never stopped.

The throwing vases became throwing punches, the yelling became constant threats, consoling words became consoling sex.

You did well to hide the new bruises from your colleagues, although your act was not good enough to fool everybody. You'd let your guard down in the toilet, rolling your sleeves up to wash your hands, just as Natasha Romanoff. Yes, Natasha Romanoff aka the Black Widow aka the world's best assassin.

She didn't mention it there, but you were called to a meeting with her soon after. She sat you down with a glass of water and asked you a simple question: "Are you safe?"

Your wide eyes and trembling figure gave you away.

Nat implored you to break up with him or to at least come and live at the compound for a while - just until you figured out what you wanted to do.

You turned her offer down, stating that you were fine. You'd be fine. She fixed you with a stern glance, but even Natasha Romanoff couldn't force you to do something you didn't want.

Bucky, on the other hand, was a completely different story. He'd noticed the bruises long before Nat had, and gone out of his way to try and make your life easier. He sent you less paperwork to file, fewer menial tasks to do, and even put in a request for you to be moved to the New York office. In his eyes that meant you'd be further away from Nathan.

The next week, you both moved to Manhattan.

The bruises started to get darker, and more visible around your body. You dropped the short-sleeved dresses and low necklines in favour of long-sleeved turtlenecks with trousers.

Bucky worried for you. The dark rings around your eyes, the ghostly pallor of your skin. He was determined to save you. The only issue was he had no idea where you lived. New York was a big enough place that he'd never run into you. He knew you didn't live in Brooklyn, but that was about it.

The night where it all came to a head was after a Stark Gala. There was a group photo, where Bucky's arm rested on your hip while your arm rested on his. Nathan was pissed. He'd been sitting on the sofa when you came home, the photo open on his phone and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. He pushed you into a wall and slapped you, his rings cutting into your face. He yelled every manner of words in your direction, calling you a 'slut' and a 'whore', and telling you that you were worthless. You cried, fresh bruises forming on your neck where he gripped you and blood dripping down your face.

You took his berating for the next few hours until Nathan retreated onto the sofa, sitting down and muttering under his breath. You opened your mouth, trying to defend yourself. Wrong move. Nathan stood up, even more agitated than before. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was almost finished and brought it down on your head.

The next thing you remember was waking up to 4 white walls. You were in a hospital, your hand being gripped tightly by someone. You tried to escape from the vice-like grip when a thumb ran over your knuckles. You knew those hands.

"Bucky." You whispered, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Your voice was sore from disuse, but the way that Bucky's eyes lit up, you would have thought that you were singing a love song just to him.

The calmness in your heart faded as soon as your brain caught up with you. You tried to convince Bucky that he needed to go but he shushed you gently.

"Shh. Don't stress yourself out. You're safe. I promise." The red rings around his eyes gave him away. Bucky had been crying. Over you.

You held his hand tightly that day. And the day after. And even the day after that. You weren't sure if you would ever find the strength to let go.

By the time you were out of the hospital, you'd moved back to Upstate New York - Bucky had made sure that you would never have to set foot in the city again if you didn't want to.

You returned back to work as normal - the restraining order you had filed against Nathan made your mind rest easier. The whole team was happy to have you back and smiling again, but they made sure to check in with you a hell of a lot more than they used to. Clint would swing by with an apple, and accidentally leave it at your desk - the first time, you'd felt bad and tried to return it, but you quickly caught on to his tactics. Nat would bring up game nights and movie nights, begging you to come, even if it was just you both.

But most of all, Bucky. Every day, you'd wake up to a text from him, wishing you a wonderful morning and spewing some inspirational affirmations for the start of the day. He'd bring you coffee, made just how you like it, as soon as he was back from his morning run. He'd spent a while perfecting the drink - making sure it was exactly to your standard. He'd walk you to your apartment for your biweekly 2pm therapy sessions (that he'd set you up with after he had realised how much difficulty you were having sleeping), and then off to lunch at some random hole-in-the-wall spot that he knew you would love. He'd call you as you got home, making sure you got home safe, and then a goodnight text to fall asleep to.

To others, his persistent need to be around you would be stifling. But after 4 years of having your needs be put lower than the damn cockroaches in the walls, it was nice to feel wanted.

You set your life up - personal bank accounts, new social media - anything to separate that part of your life from your new one. You got a new phone (courtesy of Tony, who insisted on buying you the latest iPhone, no matter how hard you tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that because 'where on earth would you find the money to pay him back?' He scoffed at that, "I'm a billionaire hun, I think I can afford to buy my secretary a new phone). You went to get your haircut, the shorter length was something you knew Nathan would have hated.

You'd walked into the compound the day after you got it cut, worried that no one would like it as much as you did.

As soon as you made it to the kitchen, you heard a loud wolf whistle. Nat was sitting on the sofa with Sam, and they both cheered loudly as you posed for them.

Bucky's jaw dropped as he walked into the kitchen. You were still showing off for Nat and Sam - you hadn't seen him walk in.

He walked over, reaching behind you to get a pod for the coffee machine, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "Looking good, Doll." His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine.

You smiled up at him, before grabbing an apple and heading back toward your desk. You glanced back at Bucky and your eyes drifted downwards to a very large and very prominent issue. You stifled a giggle before getting back to work.

You'd continued to tease Bucky for a while, inconspicuous brushes and a few comments here and there. Enough to make him flustered, but not enough to make him suspicious.

He continued being the perfect gentleman. Helping you when you needed him to, being there when no one else was.

You started your normal journey back home, getting out of the compound was sometimes a tedious affair because of the thousands of security gates between the compound and the outermost gate. Given that this is where the Avengers live and train, it's justified. Still tedious though.

It was a quarter mile from the compound to the bus stop that took you home - you didn't like driving, especially in the frost and the dark. You put your headphones in, picking back up on the podcast you started this morning. It was an interesting one - some new True Crime podcast that your best friend had recommended to you.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you walked through a dark and lonely street. You gripped your bag tighter around you and sped up. There was someone following you.

You glanced behind you, your eyes catching sight of brown hair and a blue t-shirt. It had Palm Springs emblazoned on it. Funny. You'd bought Nathan a similar t-shirt a few years ago.

You fished your phone out of your pocket, quickly dialing the one person you felt safest with.

"Doll?" Bucky picked after the first ring.

"Bucky, cred că cineva mă urmărește." You said, your voice loud enough that the other person could hear you were on the phone.

"Tell me where you are, Doll, I'll come and get you." You could hear Bucky pulling on a jacket and grabbing his keys.

"Umm, cred că sunt aproape de Joey's."

"The pizza place?"

"Da, îl văd de unde sunt." The footsteps behind you seem to be getting louder, but you forced yourself to remain calm, "Am să te aștept acolo. Vă rog să veniți repede."

You ducked into the pizza place, walking straight up to the counter. By now, you were sure of who it was - but Nathan didn't follow you into the pizza place. Maybe you were just overreacting. Joey's was mostly empty, with a few teenagers here and there - probably camping out after some house party that got shut down.

"Same as always, kiddo?" Joey asked, and you nodded with a slight grin. You and Bucky came to Joey's Pizza Place a lot - Bucky used to say that it felt like home. You were inclined to agree.

"No metal man with you today?" Joey enjoyed teasing Bucky. His dad, also named Joey, had fought alongside Bucky in the war. Joey had grown up on stories of the greatness of the Howling Commandoes and it had been one of his greatest pleasures to serve him pizza every time they came.

"He's coming - got caught up in traffic."

"Busy men, huh?" You giggled at that.

The door opened again. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with someone you hoped you'd never see again. Nathan's sister.

"Thought I'd find you here, bitch."

June stalked over to you, her face filled with rage. She had been good friends with you before Nathan and your relationship started going wrong, but when you had confided your pains with her, she'd turned her back on you. Blood is thicker than water. She'd called you names before - filling your comments with every vile comment she could think of, texting and emailing you death threats, anything to remind you of just how broken and damaged you were.

Before you knew what was happening, her hand collided with your cheek. The whole place burst into action.

Joey jumped around the side of the counter as June hurled insults at your face.

You tried to push her away as she swung at you again, but her hand hit your shoulder.

Joey pushed you behind him, as one of the kitchen hands stepped out to pull June back.

A teenager was on the phone with the police.

You tried to cover your ears as the noise built in your head.

The door swung open, letting in a draft.

Boots on the linoleum floor. Familiar boots.

Sirens.

"We were in the neighbourhood, Sergeant." Something about a noise complaint.

A hand pulling you into a firm chest. Tears streaming down your face. Your favourite voice whispering sweet nothings, stroking your hair, begging you to calm down.

"You're doing so good for me, Doll, just keep breathing." Bucky's pulse was steady under your hand. Slowly, your breathing evened out and you lifted your head to meet Bucky's eyes. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you to stop you from collapsing.

You stayed in Bucky's embrace while the police wrapped up - June was being taken to the local PD for the altercation and also driving under the influence. Bucky told you that Nathan had also been arrested for violating the restraining order. Your heart sunk.

"I'll never escape him, will I?" You whispered to Bucky, as you sat down in your favourite booth to eat.

"You can, and you will," Bucky reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.

You ate your pizza in relative silence after that - most of the shop had cleared out with the police. Joey gave you your pizza for free, along with a tight hug on the side. He told you that you'd always be safe in here, "although metal man seems to have that covered." Bucky glared at the nickname, making you both laugh.

You walked hand-in-hand to Bucky's motorbike - his fingers ghosted over the bruise on your cheekbone from the slap as he fastened your helmet on your head.

"It's nothing, Buck. I've had worse." Bucky gave you a pointed look, "Too soon?"

He threw his leg over the bike and you settled behind him, resting your cheek on his spine. "Forever is too soon for my liking."

You smiled at that and nuzzled further into his back.

"Where to madam?" He said, putting on an exaggerated British accent. You leaned up to whisper in his ear.

"Take me home, Buck."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky fanfic #buckybarnes #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes #no y/n #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #tw panic attack #tw ab*se

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wutheringcaterpillar · 4 months

Text

Imprisonment

Summary: Tommy holds you to a high standard in marriage, expecting you to care for the children, tend to the house, and serve him. It was all too much and in an attempt to escape from Tommy’s wicked ways, he catches you in a lie.

Warnings: Noncon, misogyny, physical/mental abuse, traditional values and expectations, spitting, degradation, humiliation, forced breeding

Thomas Shelby. The most important, handsome, dangerous man in Birmingham. The man every woman’s knees would give out for just one night with him and would risk their freedom for.

If only they knew the rope he had around your wrists and neck throughout your marriage, constantly having to watch your tongue, dress elegantly to events with insecure men who used their position of power to have control over others.

What drew you in aside from his constant devotion to win you over was the fact he could provide for you and a family, he gave you a house to live in and share together. He took you in and loved you when you had no money, never once blinked an eye at another woman, always stood up for you but that all changed.

Currently seated in his office, rocking your newborn he was filling out paperwork jaw clenched, nothing but the sound of the clock ticking on the wall filling your eardrums.

Things weren’t how they used to be before the marriage.

There was no quality time together, no signs of affection other than a quick fuck when he decided he needed it. Date nights didn’t exist, the compassion was missing entirely it almost seemed as if Thomas was always preoccupied with business to care for you or the three children you’ve birthed. There were numerous times where you begged and pleaded for just a night out, for Frances to watch the children for one night a month at the least but he wouldn’t have any of it.

Then whenever you’d question him as to why he was out late doing business matters with women you haven’t even met it would be a simple “it’s just business, nothing more”. But you knew that was a lie, yet you stayed, you stayed out of fear because you didn’t know who he was anymore, or the lengths he would go to, to keep you in the house.

Matters became difficult after your newborn was born, you’d only been married to Thomas for three years and it seemed all you were good for was carrying his children and doing all of the chores outside and in while he was god knows where handling the family business, the great Shelby Incorporated. When you reminded him of what he’d hired Frances for he’d simply respond with, “She’s not their mother, she’s not my wife. It is your job to watch after the children no matter what arises. I take care of the business, you stay home help Frances with chores and ensure that the kids are fed, bathed and taken care of, as a wife should.”

He held you to a high standard that was too much to bare and any opportunity to discuss and come to a compromise would be immediately dismissed as he “didn’t have the time to discuss such ridiculous matters”.

You had a plan, a plan to take the kids and run to get away from this circle of madness, even if it meant raising the children on your own and working to make ends meet without Thomas’s help.

Their bags were packed and hidden away outside in the shed, covered with a blanket.

The sound of his pen falling aimlessly onto his desk pulled you away from your thoughts, sending your attention to him immediately as to act like nothing was going on.

He picked up the bottom of his whiskey glass, finishing off what was left in a singular gulp, before his blue eyes that no longer sparkled locked with yours in a moment of skepticism.

“Why were you out in the barn today? You fed the horses at sunrise and released them and if I recall correctly there’s still quite a few more hours until sunset.” Stiffening in your seat, you adjusted yourself to make it seem like nothing was wrong while your hands tightened cautiously around your sleeping newborn.

“Oh I just remembered that Harry left his sippy cup out there and he was asking about it. Didn’t exactly want to handle putting Daisy here down for a nap while he was crying for it.” Thomas huffed and folded his hands, his top lip twitched up as he reached for his cigarettes rubbing the rolled up tobacco on his plump lips before lighting it. You hated when he smoked around the children and he knew that.

“Well I’d prefer you tend to the house, and we have two other children in case you’ve forgotten. Surely they needed you.” At that moment your third began screaming downstairs, he was beginning to start teething and was having his moment of discomfort. Tommy looked at the door expectantly, silently excusing you from the room without one more word, didn’t even offer to hold your newborn while you tended to Patrick.

The following morning after his coffee, he awoke you from your deep slumber dressed in a suit and tie, smelling of teakwood and mint. He was freshly showered, hair combed back while his hands were tucked swiftly in his pockets.

“The garden looks like it could use your attention today as well. Wouldn’t want my money to go to waste. Also Frances retreived the mail when you weren’t awake, Harry is overdue for his physical so get that taken care of today.” He exited the room, picking up his briefcase on the way out.

When you heard the car door close outside you peaked out the window to ensure he had left and rushed to the closet grabbing a handful of clothes.

Your mind was running in every direction and you were damned if you weren’t going to have your freedom if not for you, your children.

The Shelby household was no place for children, guns everywhere, all out wars in the dining room, the degradation of women. Daisy didn’t need to see that or be taught she were less because of being a woman.

Tommy already had it planned out for her, her whole life sheltered until he found a man suitable to marry his daughter, it was dreadful.

Frances watched you walk rather quickly outside through the green fields of fresh flowers to the barn, carrying three bags. She wasn’t stupid and she was not going to lose her job over this.

After you closed the door to the car once the kids were buckled in she met you outside, causing you to roll your eyes and anxiety rise in your chest.

“Frances please spare me the you can’t do this, he’ll find you this and that. I will not raise my children up in a house like this with a man who shows no care or love for them! So respectfully stay out of it and do what you do best and go wash my husband’s blood stained clothes because it will never be enough to keep him satisfied.” With that you closed the door and made your way out of the driveway, on your way to freedom.

The backroads were empty as you intended not single soul in sight nothing but the warm breeze flowing through the rolled down windows, deer galloping in the fields. You were almost out of Birmingham on your way to a new life for you and the children.

Harry and Daisy were asleep in the backseat while Partrick was coloring in a book, kicking his small legs back and forth mindlessly. The sight made you smile widely.

Coming to a stop light you reached down to retrieve your address book and directions to make sure you were going the right way but the sound of tapping on the window drew you out of your thoughts.

“Mommy, look it’s daddy!” You immediately froze in a silent panic, not wanting to look up.

When you didn’t move he reached his hand through the window, unlocking the door and taking a seat on the passenger side.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly until your knuckles turned white, the anxiety rising in your chest causing your breath to get stuck in your throat.

The metallic feeling of his gun settled on your thigh.

“Now don’t make a scene my love. Arthur is going to take the car tonight and John is going to drive us all home. We’ll talk about this later.” Begrudgingly you brought your shaking hand up to put the car in park as a tears flowed effortlessly down your cheeks in defeat.

Stepping out of the car you gathered the kids, crying even more as you felt you failed them.

“Mommy what’s wrong?” Tommy scooped Harry up in his arms, swiping the hair away from his forhead.

“Mommy’s not feeling well and asked me to pick you guys up. We’re going back home she needs to sleep.”

The whole ride home the car filled with silence, Tommy’s hand never leaving your thigh as his nails cut deep into your skin. You were terrified to arrive back home in the prison he built just for you.

After putting the children in bed, telling them you love them you closed the door lightly while Thomas stood next to you outside their room, watching you intently.

Once the door was closed he leaned in against you, his lips just inches away from yours.

“If you attempt this little show of yours again I can assure you, you won’t see the children again. You won’t live to see another day.” He pulled you by your wrist ignoring your choked up cries and pulled you into the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“You thought you could run away from me? Thomas Shelby? And I wouldn’t find out? Mistake number one was the fucking sippy cup. Frances watched you carry those bags out to the barn and phoned me immediately. Forcing me to cut the deal short and to reschedule. Do you think I don’t treat you well? That I don’t give you everything?” You stayed silent, tears streaming down your cheeks as his dominance and power over you filled the room just by the way he circled around you.

“Did you forget your place? Is that it eh?” He stopped in front of you, wrapping his large hand around your small throat, his hand tightened tremendously, forcing you to gasp for any type of air.

He began to laugh menacingly, darkly. His crystal eyes arose with a blue flame, eyebrows furrowing together in anger as he spat on your face.

“You live because I allow you. You are my fucking property, my dearly beloved.” Not letting go of your throat he began walking angrily with grit, slamming you against the wall where books tumbled down from their shelving.

His lips smashed into yours in a heated, hateful kiss, his free hand running down your thigh to your ass, gripping the flesh harshly forcing a desperate screech to escape your lips.

His knee forced your legs a apart as he unzipped his pants with his free hand.

His hardened erect member popped out freely, smacking against your abdomen.

You tried to protest, words barely even understandable while he slid your panties to the side.

The shadow of his dominating eyes loomed over you with power, his nose snarling while a singular vein in his forehead was standing out noticeably.

In one swift movement his hips bucked upward, his cock sliding between your bruised walls that no longer wanted him.

It stung, you were completely dry, your makeup running down your cheeks in a beautiful disaster, and Tommy took a tremendous amount of joy in reminding you how much power he had over you.

“Big will always fuck small darling. You feel that?” He thrusted up into your core mercilessly, ripping your dress down with a flick of his hand leaving your breasts exposed to him as they bounced up and down, causing you to try to hide your face to look anywhere but him.

“That’s all you are, nothing but an appendage, my little slave. Tell me when are you going to learn your role Y/N, eh?” Your hands left his on your thrust, trying with all their might to push him away but he was too strong.

“Thomas please!” He mocked you repeating those words in a childish tone.

You could feel your body beginning to betray you, his cock warming your insides as the pain turned to pleasure, but you stayed crying as shame fulfilled you.

He began to laugh, as he watched your slick begin to slowly ooze out of you, coating his cock.

“Would you look at that? Still a whore for me arent you? You should feel grateful I’m even fucking you, hasn’t felt the same since you gave birth, more spacious, not so tight anymore.” You spat in his eye.

“Fuck you!” He released your neck, causing you to drop straight down onto the dirty floor.

As you were gasping for air his hand curled into the strands of your hair, dragging you over toward the bed.

Tossing you onto the mattress effortlessly he tugged his tie off, wrapping the expensive fabric between your lips, tying it.

His hand flew back, and came crashing down in a vicious stroke against your delicate cheek, the blow guaranteed to leave a bruise.

“Can’t have you waking the children now can I?” He flipped you over onto your stomach, his body boring over you as he spread your cheeks, taking your flesh in his strong hand aggressively causing you to let out a muffled screech.

He penetrated you once more, his head hung by the back of your head, his hot breath carelessly running down your neck as he drilled into your aching hole.

“Is this all your good for eh?” His balls slapped against your bruised skin, as he spit his venomous words in your ear.

“A nuisance throughout the day but an average fuck at night?” You could feel his cock pulsate in your soaking core, your walls clenching around him involuntarily while you struggled to breath, your head nuzzled into the mattress.

His hands intertwined with yours, his back arching with each forceful thrust.

“Maybe I should put another child in you hm? Would that keep you happy? Shut you up and remind you of your place?” Your muffled protests merely made him laugh, as if he cared what you thought.

He knew the children were your weak spot and you’d never abort, no matter how much you despised him.

His cock inched deeper with every single movement, causing your thighs to turn weak beneath him as the feeling of ecstasy ran throughout your veins from being close.

“I’ve ruined you my darling. No other man would look even once at you knowing who your husband is and what a used out whore you are. So desperate to be loved you jumped in bed with the first man who gave you attention.” His words struck a nerve. Your mind swam in every direction trying to understand when love and harmony turned into the never ending abuse and destruction of any emotional connection you shared.

Thomas owned you in every way. He was your first love, first and only husband, first fuck, and your final downfall.

His breathing picked up, and you felt him pulsate, filling you deep with his seed once more, the warmth sending you crumbling beneath him, your muffled moans sounding like music to his ears.

He layed there for a moment, his fingers combing through your hair gently.

“You have one role. How difficult is that to understand love? Serve me and care for the children. That’s all I ever asked.” He undid the tie and you stayed silent, crying into the mattress when you felt him pull out and his seed puddled out of you, soaking the sheets.

“Clean this up, and we’ll go to bed.” The bedroom was silent that night as it was every other night, reminding you that this marriage would never be the same. The man that was supposed to love and care for you was now the enemy, his arm holding you in your place against his chest as he slept effortlessly while you were terrified to sleep in the place you once thought was your home.

#Tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x you #tommy shleby x reader #Thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #reader insert #pesky blinders #Peaky blinders imagine #ranaewrites

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thrumbolt · 6 months

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Top 5 most annoying Tamlin scene misinterpretations

1. ''There is no such thing as a high lady'' I hate this one, because it is always taken as some sort of proof that Tamlin is a raging misogynist who doesn't want an equal woman by his side or some similar type of nonsense. I don't know where this is coming from. Tamlin never wanted to be a high lord. He would probably welcome for someone to take over most of the work so he could just keep running through the woods. He also has absolutely no issues with taking advice from women in power (Ianthe? Hello??). His first reaction to the high lady question is literally this:

“Is everyone just going to call me ‘Tamlin’s wife’? Do I get a … title?” He lifted his head long enough to look at me. “Do you want a title?”

And let's not forget that Feyre's first reply is ''No, I don’t know if I can handle them calling me High Lady”. To which he then answers that she doesn't have to worry about that, since ''there is no such thing as a high lady'' because the magic choses the title and it keeps chosing males. Also this whole scene happens while he eats her out. Not that it's relevant or anything, just saying...

2. ''Tamlin killed Rhys' family'' No. Tamlin's dad killed Rhys' family. I have no idea how Tamlin doing it is ever the takeaway from that whole story. Let's just quote the actual scene:

“Tamlin’s father, brothers, and Tamlin himself set out into the Illyrian wilderness, having heard from Tamlin—from me—where my mother and sister would be, that I had plans to see them. I was supposed to be there. I wasn’t. And they slaughtered my mother and sister anyway.”

Yeah okay, Tamlin gave the information (supposedly) and was there (supposedly) sure, but it's highly unlikely that he was so willingly. Let's not forget that it's established that Tamlin was afraid of his father, that Tamlin's father is worse than Beron (who, I might remind you, tortures his sons) and that Tamlin was friends with Rhys at the time - which neither family approved of. Even Rhys doesn't actually believe Tamlin did anything besides being spineless:

''I didn’t care that Tamlin had been there, had allowed them to kill my mother and sister, that he’d come to kill me because he didn’t want to risk standing against them.''

In the end we don't know the details. Tamlin could've been tortured and tied up or whatever. Making him watch could've been a cruel form of punishment for being friends with Rhys. We don't really know until SJM graces us with Tamlin's side of the story.

3. ''It's really Tamlin's own fault that the spring court fell'' Alternatively also phrased as: 'Feyre just opened everyone's eyes to Tamlin's incompetence' and....honestly? This low key makes me question the reading comprehension of people.

Yes, Tamlin made a deal with Hybern, which was extremely risky, but the war was coming regardless (as we learn from Rhys in the first half of ACOMAF) and the spring court would be the main target because of its location next to the wall. Inviting Hybern into his lands in a trade is actually a pretty smart way to avoid a lot of death on Tamlin's part - plus he needed help to rescue Feyre and get her out of the deal she had with Rhysand (people forget that Tamlin didn't know Feyre didn't actually need rescuing from the guy that was abusing her in front of him in ACOTAR).

So yeah anyway, Feyre did several things to make the spring court fall: 1. She manipulated the solstice ceremony to make herself seem cauldron-blessed in the eyes of the people, 2. She made a sentry accuse Ianthe (who WAS doing sneaky shit) which essentially did nothing except putting Tamlin on the spot in front of Hybern, so he was kind of forced to throw the sentry under the bus. Good job Feyre, you got a poor sod whipped! But it also built resentment within the soldiers, which was her plan all along and 3. before leaving, she did this (let's just quote the whole thing):

''I had a people who had lost faith in their High Priestess. I had sentries who were beginning to rebel against their High Lord. And as a result of those things, I had Hybern royals doubting the strength of their allies here. I’d primed this court to fall. Not from outside forces—but its own internal warring. And I had to be clear of it before it happened. Before the last sliver of my plan fell into place. The party would return without me. And to maintain that illusion of strength, Tamlin and Ianthe would lie about it—where I’d gone. And perhaps a day or two after that, one of these sentries would reveal the news, a carefully sprung trap that I’d coiled into his mind like one of my snares. I’d fled for my life—after being nearly killed by the Hybern prince and princess. I’d planted images in his head of my brutalized body, the markings consistent with what Dagdan and Brannagh had already revealed to be their style. He’d describe them in detail—describe how he helped me get away before it was too late. How I ran for my life when Tamlin and Ianthe refused to intervene, to risk their alliance with Hybern. And when the sentry revealed the truth, no longer able to stomach keeping quiet when he saw how my sorry fate was concealed by Tamlin and Ianthe, just as Tamlin had sided with Ianthe the day he’d flogged that sentry …When he described what Hybern had done to me, their Cursebreaker, their newly anointed Cauldron-blessed, before I’d fled for my life … There would be no further alliance. For there would be no sentry or denizen of this court who would stand with Tamlin or Ianthe after this. After me.''

So, the sentries left Tamlin because of a lie. A fake story. Without sentries, Hybern decided to take over rather than just be guests and had a prime spot to attack the summer court in turn. Which is also why Tarquin is extremely pissed at Feyre - not Tamlin. So no, Tamlin wasn't a bad high lord. His only real mistake was ever trusting Feyre.

Sure, some argue that Feyre thought Tamlin genuinely sided with Hybern and might be a threat to the rest of Prythian, so taking him down would make sense for her even outside of petty revenge. But there's just one problem with that: Feyre is a mind reader. She could have just.....checked. lol

4. ''Tamlin didn't do anything Under the Mountain'' This one really gets my goat because it's not really true? Things Tamlin did to help Feyre: 1. He sent her away to the human realm. (People forget this, but he basically doomed his court to protect her ass - it's not his fault she came back!) 2. He made Lucien check up on her. (Yes Lucien was Feyre's friend but he still acted under Tamlin's orders!) 3. He ignored Feyre as to not rile Amarantha up even more (Come on, have you seen Amarantha? It totally makes sense) 4. He tries to get to Feyre, begging Amarantha to stop even as he is tied up, bleeding out from a stab wound to his chest that he can't heal because he has no powers - like what do you want him to do??? 4. He literally kills Amarantha the second he is able to

Also personal conspiracy detour: That music that Rhysand supposedly sent to Feyre was SO originally supposed to be Tamlin, you can't convince me otherwise. I will never not believe that this wasn't just a lazily done quick change when SJM rewrote book 1 and 2 to account for the boyfriend switcheroo. Attributing the music to Rhys makes absolutely zero sense. He's not a musical boy at all, come on! Music themes never come up with him again either! Meanwhile Tamlin played for Feyre before, is generally a musical guy COME ON! /conspiracy detour over

5. ''It's Tamlin's fault that Nesta and Elaine got turned to fae'' No. No it's not. He knew nothing about this. Ianthe did this on her own accord because Feyre told her where her sister's lived. Tamlin actually attacks (!) the King of Hybern over it (to no avail, but still).

Some people blame Tamlin for keeping Ianthe around afterwards, despite of what she did. Those people I want to refer to point number 3 in this list. Ianthe was working with Hybern. Tamlin tried to be buddies with Hybern for reasons. No, he can't just throw out Ianthe.

#thanks for coming to my tedtalk #tamlin #acotar #idk man i get that people hate him but literally everything he does gets interpreted in the most unfavorable way ever #or simply misquoted #and it's annoying ok #feel free to add to it or correct me #SORRY THIS GOT LONG I WENT OFF A LITTLE #pro tamlin #i guess

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beomiracles · 7 days

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「 CRIMINAL CONSIENCE 」

SYNOPSIS moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder.

pairings: criminal!beomgyu x investigator!reader warnings for tape 01: mentions of drugging/drug use. oral (f, rec), marking.

GENERAL WARNINGS ─ this story contains dark themes, portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships as well as substance abuse. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

✎ NOTE, this story is partly told in flashbacks. beware of time stamps as present and past is mixed throughout the story.

tape 01 ─ stay away from Choi Beomgyu

February 19th 2024 ─ present time

You hated being late. You hated feeling rushed, the way things would always turn out half-assed. Yet you had turned off alarm after alarm, snoozing past at least five of them before finally pulling yourself out of bed with a groan.

Though one glance at your phone has you rushing to your feet. There was no way you’d make it in time. Pulling on your shirt, looking everywhere for a pair of socks, toothbrush in your mouth. Having to redo your ponytail three times because your stubborn hair refused to lay flat and you’d run out of hair gel.

One hand on the steering wheel and one applying lipstick messily all over your lips, you sway past the cars on the crowded roads. Parking was easy, you almost made it on the first try this time.

Stumbling your way through the hallways of your office building, earning rather confused looks from your colleagues. Finally you make it to your office, your own private space. Breathing out a sigh of relief as the door closes behind you, you glance at the clock. Only five minutes late, that was 300 seconds and...

“That’s not important now”, you sigh as you drag your feet over to your desk. There’s an unfamiliar file on top of your rather large pile. Frowning, you pick it up. Just as you’re about to open it and have a look your phone chimes.

You bring the device to your ear, “you here yet?” Yeonjun's voice carries over the line. Rolling your eyes, you sit down on your desk, “of course, what do you honestly think of me”, you snort.

“Nevermind, don’t”, you then add with a groan. Your colleague chuckles on the other side of the phone. “You seen the file I left for you?”, he asks. You turn said file over in your free hand, “you left it?”. Yeonjun hums, “I need you down in the interrogation rooms in about fifteen, that okay?”

“Of course, I’ll be there in ten”, you grin and Yeonjun scoffs, “i’ll bet”. You hang up and shove your phone in your back pocket before you make your way toward the interrogation rooms.

The sound of your heels clacking along the stone floors fill the now empty hallway. Your ponytail swings in tune with your steps and you reapply your favorite red lipstick. Red had never been a color of your choice, but it had been someone else’s.

Another echo of footsteps join yours and soon a voice calls out, “miss y/l/n!”. Turning around on the spot a smile finds its way to your lips, “Huening!”, you exclaim as the younger man approaches you.

Huening had this boyish appearance that made him look youthful and innocent. No wonder so many of your female coworkers had a thing for him. Your own history of lovers, on the other hand, were far from anything and everything Hueningkai represented.

The younger man gives you a shy smile as he hands you a mug of coffee, “you seemed to be in a rush earlier so I…”, he trails off as his gaze falls on the mug in his hand. “Well…”

“That’s very considerate of you, thank you”, you say as you take the cup from him. Bringing it up to your lips you smile, “how did you know I love lattes?”. The tips of Huening’s ears turn pink, “I er…just y’know, went with my gut feeling…”.

A small giggle escapes your lips, “never stop trusting it”, you say as you give his shoulder a pat. The younger man’s ears turn from pink to a flaming red as he nods. Clearing his throat he glances at the file in your hand.

“New case?”, he asks and you nod. “I’m about to meet the suspect just now”, you say as you take a sip of the coffee. On your way you had gone through the pages briefly. To be honest you would need at least thirty minutes to just sit down and read through them. But time was a luxury you couldn’t afford today.

Huening nods as he fidgets with the hem of his shirt, “perhaps…when you’re done, we could get lunch together?”. It was impossible for you to decline his sweet request, “I would love to”. Your younger colleague beams as he takes goodbye of you.

Sipping on your coffee, your red lipstick stains the cup. Eyes scan the papers one last time as you approach the interrogation room. Yeonjun meets you by the door, “you got the files?” he asks and you nod.

“Yes, though I’ve barely had time to go through them thoroughly”, you admit as you recall your rushed morning. Yeonjun shakes his head, “don’t sweat it”. He brings out a file of his own as he reads a few main points to you.

“23, male, brought in yesterday night at 1.22am”. Yeonjun flips the paper, “he’s under investigation for murder and attempted arson”. You nod along as you sip on your coffee, arson and murder wasn’t an unusual combination.

“Any witnesses?” you ask and Yeonjun shakes his head, “none have come forward”. You frown, “how is he linked to the crime?”. Your colleague puts his files down as he turns to look at you, “victim’s DNA on him”.

Your eyebrows raise in evident surprise, “really?”. Should no other evidence or witnesses surface the man would be as good as guilty already. Yeonjun nods as he unlocks the door for you, “good luck, I’m on the other side of the glass at all times”, he reassures and you give him a thankful smile as you step inside.

Your heels echo inside the small and dark room as you approach the table in the middle of it. Not looking up from your files you slide down on the chair opposite the man.

“You are being investigated for the murder of Park Baekhyun as well as the attempted arson against his property. You have the right to remain silent and or request for an attorney, keep in mind that anything you say can be used against you in court”, you say as you place your files down on the table.

The man in front of you looks up and your eyes widen. His dark eyes pierce yours in such a familiar way that you almost have a hard time controlling your breathing. Lips curling into a smirk as he looks at you.

But that can't be him, it’s impossible, yet he looked exactly like…

“Beomgyu?”

Your mouth betrays you before your mind has the chance to stop it. Beomgyu’s smirk only widens as it exposes his shiny teeth, the same teeth that had grazed your skin so many times before.

He lets out a short laugh, “dollface, it’s been a while hasn’t it?”.

You want to yell, shout, cry, possibly even throw your coffee in his face. But you do nothing. The smirk on his face doesn’t falter as Beomgyu tilts his head to the side, studying you, as if trying to calculate your next move, you knew he could.

Though before he has the chance to, the door behind you clicks open. Yeonjun enters with a frown plastered on his normally expressionless and professional face.

“You know this guy?”, he questions and you nod without taking your eyes off Beomgyu who’s smirk only widens. “Know? That’d be an understatement”. Yeonjun gives Beomgyu a short glance before he beckons you to follow him out.

As the doors to the interrogation room closes behind the two of you, Yeonjun turns to you with a sigh. “What on earth is going on?”. You chew on your bottom lip hesitantly, “well, I sort of…we sort of….” “were something?”. You nod, “yes, something like that”.

“It was a long time ago though”, you quickly add in a rushed tone and Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. “Exactly how long is long ago?”, he questions.

You nervously scratch at your forearm as your gaze wanders, anywhere but Yeonjun’s eyes. “I haven’t seen him in ten months..”, your voice is hushed, shameful even. And you were ashamed, ashamed of having any sort of connection to a man like that.

The look your colleague gave you might as well have had you resigning on the spot. “Jesus christ”, he mumbles as he runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll take you off the case, we’ll find someone and─”

“No!”

The words leave your lips before you even have the chance to consider them. Why? You had no clue, but you knew that you wanted─ no, needed this case. Maybe it was only to satisfy your own curiosity or perhaps it was to gain some sort of closure. Either way you knew that this case could not go to someone else. It had to be you.

Straightening your back, you glance up at Yeonjun as your arms fall to your sides. “I’m confident that I can do this”, you state as you hold his gaze. The older man gives you a look of disbelief but your persistence eventually makes him cave as he sighs.

“Alright, but if I notice that things are getting out of hand, you’re out”.

You smile, “thank you”. Yeonjun nods, “well then, if you’re ready then go on back inside”.

The silence as the doors close behind you to the interrogation room is deafening. Glancing down at the table you notice your coffee cup missing. Beomgyu turns said cup around in his hands as he studies it closely.

“You like your coffee black”, he states as you sit down opposite him. Why would he remember that? Why did your stomach jump at the fact that he did remember such a detail? You push it aside as you look up to meet his gaze, “things change”, you say as reorganize the files in front of you.

Beomgyu grins, “not you”. He leans forward as his cuffed hands rest on the table in front of him, “you look just the same”, he mumbles as he studies your face closer. You refuse to lean back, that would mean that you were scared, that you would let him win. And you wouldn’t, not this time.

“Well luckily we’re not here to talk about me”, you give him a small smile and watch as he leans back in his chair with a small grunt.

“Last night”, you begin as you glance down at the files once more, “you were at present at Park Baekhyun’s property between the hours of 10pm and 1am, what were you doing there?”.

Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek as he grins, “cleanin’ up a mess”. You raise an eyebrow as you question him further, “what kind of mess?”. He smirks, “well certainly not the ones we used to make”. You swallow as you try to dismiss anything he says.

“What kind of mess was my question”, you repeat and Beomgyu rolls his eyes. “One of my employees messed up, he’s new, I don’t blame him”. His eyes flicker toward the glass window on one of the walls, certainly aware of the fact that Yeonjun was on the other side, even though he couldn’t see him.

“You gotta go easy on the newbies”, he then adds as his eyes shift back toward you with a mischievous glint. “But you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” he smirks as his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek.

“I went easy on you the first time”.

He didn’t. Perhaps that was why you remembered your first encounter with Beomgyu to this day.

March 28th 2022

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. Everyone will be there!”, your friend Kayla whines as she tugs at your arm. You shake your head, “no, everyone you know will be there”. Finally pulling yourself from her grasp you flop back down on your bed. “It’ll just be awkward to bring me along”, you mutter.

Though your friend won’t have it. “Well if you’re not going then I’m not either”. The bed squeaks as she takes place beside you. The two of you stare up at the ceiling of your small apartment in silence for about thirty seconds before Kayla starts once again.

“Pleaseeeeee”, she whines as she rolls over on her side to look at you. Giving you her best pout and puppy eyes you finally give in. “Fine, but you better not leave my side”.

The first thing Kayla did was leave your side. Running off to wrap her arms around that no-good boyfriend of hers. You swallowed a gag. The club was hot, smelled like alcohol and sex, and was absolutely crowded.

You instantly regretted coming here. You knew no one, and without your only friend, your introverted self could count on a lonely night. Quietly making your way over to the bar, you order yourself a drink in an attempt to drown your regret.

As you sip on your drink, your eyes scan the dance floor after your friend. Though all you could make out were half naked bodies pressed against one another. You found your eyes wandering over to the small booths by the sides of the main floor. They were secluded, but far from private.

Then your eyes fell on him. He wasn’t your type, at least you thought he wasn’t. Maybe it was the liquor, or the overwhelming sense of loneliness you felt that night. But when your eyes locked with his, you swear the two of you could’ve been the only people in the room.

Sprawled out on the sofa to one of the booths, two of the prettiest girls draped over him, drink in his hand, mid conversation with one of the guys next to him, yet his eyes remained on yours.

One of the girls plays with his long dark hair as she whispers into his ear. He smirks as he brings his drink to his lips, over the rim of the glass you catch the subtle wink he gives you. Your heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to getting hit on. Or even just subtly flirted with, but this, this felt different. This man was far from anything you had ever laid your eyes on, you felt intoxicated but you weren’t so sure that it was because of your drink. No, there was something about him.

So you did the only reasonable thing, you winked back.

The man’s smirk only widened as his free hand moved up the inner thigh of the other girl. She squirmed under his touch, emitting small giggles as she leaned in to kiss at his neck. He seemed to pay her little mind, eyes still trained on yours.

No matter how badly you wanted to, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. He was so… “Don’t even think about it”, Kayla mutters as she appears next to you, causing you to jump in your seat.

“What?” you question as you finally pull your gaze from the man and to your supposed friend. She rolls her eyes as she motions towards the man, “him”. “Don’t even think about starting anything with that man”.

You frown, “I wasn’t…”─ “oh no but you were”, she cuts you off as she orders a drink of her own. “That man is no good”, she continues as she leans against the bar, “only uses girls for his own pleasure, you’ll get hurt”.

You scoff, “what if I only seek pleasure”. Kayla frowns as she turns to look at you, “then I suggest you seek it elsewhere, he is no good”. Receiving her drink she takes a large swig and you set your own empty glass down.

“How do you know about him?” Kayla had never even mentioned the man to you before and you were curious to know her history with him. Your friend shakes her head, “used to be close to this one girl, then one night she’s off with him”.

Kayla sighs as she takes another sip of her drink, “next time I see her is two weeks later, drugged out of her mind”. Your eyes widened, Kayla had never even mentioned anything like this to you, perhaps you could understand why.

She points her drink toward the man again. His hands roam the bodies of the girls who cling to his sides as they whisper sweet nothings into his ears. “That, is what that man will do to you”, she states as she downs the last of her drink. “Besides”, she shrugs, “I have never seen him with the same woman twice”.

Setting her glass down, Kayla pulls herself from the bar, “I gotta get back to Jim”, she gives your cheek a quick peck, “call me when you’re ready to go home, yeah?”. She scurries off onto the dance floor before you have the chance to reply.

Sighing, you return your attention to the bar as you order yourself another round. Whilst waiting on your drink you feel a hand on your shoulder. Startled, you turn your head to be met by an unfamiliar man. He gives you a polite smile as he introduces himself, “Hwan” .

You can’t help but smile back, “Y/n”, you say and when he asks to join you, you comply. Hwan takes the seat next to yours, “how come I haven’t seen you before, you new in town?”, he asks as he orders himself a drink.

You shake your head, “no, just not a fan of clubs I suppose..”. The man nods, “I see, then I must’ve been real lucky to catch you here”, he grins and you giggle, “indeed”.

“You here with a friend or boyfriend?”. “Just a friend, she sort of forced me along”, you say as you sip on your drink. “So no boyfriend then?”, he asks, leaning slightly closer.

Just as you’re about to tell him no, a tall figure appears behind him. His presence makes the hair on the back of your head stand up. Hwan, inevitably notices the man as he turns around in his seat with a frown.

“Can I help─”, he begins but is quickly cut short.

“Scurry off”, the man who you’d locked eyes with previously says. Hwan glances between you and the man in a confused manner. When you don’t say anything he finally gets up as he gives you a small bow.

The man from earlier clicks his tongue as he takes Hwan’s seat, quickly calling the bartender over, “I’ll have what she’s having”.

A small silence falls over the two of you and you nervously grip your glass. What was going on? You had certainly seen the same man with two girls all over him not less than ten minutes ago. Why was he here? With you?

Sneaking a glance at him you find him already looking at you. His eyes study your face in an almost calculating way. Though he doesn’t say anything, the smirk that etches its way onto his face gives away that he likes what he sees.

As he gets his drink, the metal rings on his fingers make a clinking sound against the glass. He takes a sip as he continues to study your face. You shift in your seat, feeling rather uncomfortable under his intense gaze.

“Choi Beomgyu”, he then says. The name fit him, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give out your own name, a piece of you, to the man your friend had previously warned you about. But this man intrigued you, almost like a forbidden fruit that you know you shouldn’t eat. Yet you can’t help but wonder, could one bite be so bad?

“Y/l/n, y/n”, you say as you set your glass down. Beomgyu’s smirk widens. “You come here often?”, he asks and you shake your head, “rarely”. He hums against the rim of the glass, “you didn’t really strike me as the type anyway”.

You can’t help but frown at his answer, “then what type is that?”. Beomgyu raises an eyebrow as he glances toward the dance floor, you follow his gaze. “Her”, he mutters, “and her, her, her and her”.

You take in the appearance of the multiple half naked girls, pushing anything and everything they could onto the nearest stranger. Beomgyu’s eyes snap back to yours, under the blues and purple of the club, they glint in an almost starlike way.

“But not you”, he states.

“Not me”, you agree as you finish your drink. You look at him as you brush a strand of hair from your face, “then perhaps, you’re striding outside of your usual target group”.

Beomgyu tilts his head, “I’m not opposed to trying new things”.

Maybe it was the liquor, or the fact that Kayla had already warned you about him, or maybe it was the way his eyes drugged you stronger than any other substance could. But you found yourself wanting more, if he wasn’t opposed to trying new things, then who says you weren’t either?

And perhaps that was why you had let him lead you upstairs. Let him close the door behind you, sealing you away from the world. Let him push you back against the soft mattress of the foreign bed.

And maybe, just maybe that was why you had let his hands wander. The same way they did those girls not even an hour earlier. The cold metal of his rings digging into your soft thighs as he pushes them apart.

When his lips found your neck, they were soft. You had little expectations of the man currently between your legs, however, his lips being soft, had not been one of them. And he’s gentle, a lot more than you had expected. He takes his time exploring you, as if you were an exotic and foreign artifact. Something that he had never before come across.

His large hand cups your face as he exhales, letting his warm breath fan your face. His thumb pulls your bottom lip down before he pushes it inside. Your tongue immediately wraps around it as your eyes lock with his.

“You’re so pretty”, he murmurs as his free hand brushes through your hair. “Pretty like a doll”, his eyes wander down your body. “Made out of porcelain, untainted and perfect”, he whispers as he pulls his thumb from your mouth.

His now saliva coated thumb presses against your clit in a menacing way as you squirm beneath him. “And such a pretty pussy too”, he groans as he leans down to ghost his lips over where you need him the most.

His tongue drags between your folds, drawing moans and whines from you as you grip onto the bed sheets. As his tongue dwells deeper, Beomgyu uses his hands to roughly massage and grope your thighs, making sure to leave you blue and purple.

Occasionally inhaling before diving right back at your cunt, his nose stimulating your clit just enough to have you see stars but never a shooting one. Beomgyu groans between your legs at the sheer taste of you.

“Need more”, he grunts as he pulls you closer to his face. “You’ll give me more, won’t you dollface?”

You nod furiously as your thighs close around his head. Finishing all over his face with a small cry as you grip the bed sheets enough to cause ripping.

As your orgasm fades and all that is left are your trembling legs, Beomgyu finally pulls himself from your cunt. Nose, lips and chin coated in all of you. His dark eyes find yours as he smirks, “I like you dollface”, he states.

“I’ll keep you”.

And that was, exactly, how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu.

A/N ─ EEEK, it's finally out!!! please please please drop some feedback I would love to hear your opinions >.< also this Beomgyu is such a 180 degree turn from pretty princess Beomgyu so it's been a little challenging to write but I am loving it so far!!

✎...taglist @beomtasticc @beomies-world @leeminhosairfryer @baekberrie @fairyofyeongyu @lunathewritingcat @archoive @baemgyu @yunjinsbbg @velvetmoonlght @luvsyuqii @seokqt

#txt #txt fanfic #txt post #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu #beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ #criminal conscience beomiracles

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faeriekit · 10 days

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Ghosts of Those We Once Knew

a phic phight fill for @silverwing013

Warnings for: implied child abuse, accidental death, dead parents

**💚**

“Oh yeah?! And what are you going to do about it?!” Aunt Alicia snapped into the phone.

There was a sound on the other end of the line, but Danny couldn’t make it out all the way. There was another solution, but it was…risky; it would require going into his aunt’s bedroom— a well known, forbidden domain— to pick up the only other phone hooked up to the landline.

…There was no other time to find out what Aunt Alicia was putting off. It had to be worth the risk. Danny crept up the worn carpeting of the stairs, hoping that his sneakiness would hold up to Alicia’s discerning eyes and ears.

Her bedroom was dark. Carpeted. …Pink.

Whatever. Danny took a deep breath, lifted the phone off the hook, and tried not to breathe too loudly into the mouthpiece.

“You have no right to keep Daniel in your dismal, miserable, isolated hovel,” someone shouted on the other end. Danny had never heard this voice before. He sounded like someone around Dad’s age, maybe? Maybe a little…smoother, despite the blistering anger coming through the line. “You live with no human contact for nine months out of the year. You speak to no one. Do you— is Daniel even enrolled in a school? Did you get any sort of educational provisions for him whatsoever?”

“What, so he can get cocky and blow himself up in the garage like his parents?” Alicia snapped. Danny had to clap a hand to his mouth to hide his gasp of dismay.

“You know full well that punishing your sister’s son by restricting his access to an education and basic human companionship is not a solution to your grief for your sister. You are out of your mind.”

Aunt Alicia’s voice got low. Aunt Alicia’s voice got mean. She sounded like how she looked when Danny had fumbled the water pail from the well or stepped two steps too close to the rhubarb patch out back. “Vladmir Masters, you listen here,” Aunt Alicia muttered. “That boy is everything left of my sister in the whole damn world. He is not going anywhere. Do you understand? Not for you to fill his head with her stupid husband’s supernatural hoo-ha, and not for you to snatch up and teach himself how to kill other people the way those two killed each other. Danny stays here. If you ring me up one more time, I’m going to do more than just mail dog crap to the front step of your stupid castle in Wisconsin.”

The phone cut off. It would be an innocuous end to a phone call, except Danny can hear the clatter of plastic cracking on plastic in the downstairs kitchen.

There was a moment of silence.

“Daniel Jackson Fenton, you get your butt in here right now!”

Danny jolted, heart pounding. He—he went downstairs.

Aunt’s Alicia’s lips were pursed, her eyes tight. “What did I tell you about missing all the sticks in the yard? It looks like a wreck!”

Danny felt his breath stick in his throat.

“Well?”

“Yes, Aunt Alicia,” Danny mumbled. He looked down and away. He wasn’t caught out eavesdropping, but…was this any better?

“If those sticks aren’t piled up beside the woodshed for kindling in half an hour, you can kiss your dinner goodbye.”

Danny hadn’t had dinner in three nights. He was very lucky he didn’t need to eat as much as living kids. “…Yes, Aunt Alicia.”

“So?”

…Danny went outside to collect sticks. It took until nightfall to get all the refuse from yesterday’s storm off the ground.

Aunt Alicia ate canned corn and carrots and butchered rabbit with hot sauce for dinner. Danny ate nothing.

Danny went to bed thinking about somewhere else he could go. Mom and Dad were dead—smithereens in the blast that had killed him and brought him back to life simultaneously. Jazz was in the hospital. He had no grandparents. He had no other aunts or uncles other than Aunt Alicia.

…Who was Vladmir Masters?

It took two days for Danny to decide to run away.

Or. Well. Fly.

He’d figured that if he wanted to find out who Vladmir Masters was, he’d need an internet connection. His cell had been on the Fenton Fone Plan™ and had been disconnected from the Fenton Family Patented Ghost-free Satellite™ for almost three months now. But, you know…what was a public library for, if not getting information?

The two-day waiting period was mostly just Danny getting his stuff together, making sure he didn’t leave anything behind, finding anything worth stealing…

…There was a picture of Mom with her big hair at graduation, a black robe thrown over her Hazmat suit. Her hair had been so big. Lots of people were beside her, including Dad, and someone with a matching hair stripe. They looked happy.

It didn’t matter that it had been Aunt Alicia’s photo. The picture had gone into his backpack next to Bearbert Einstein and a filched pocket knife.

Mom was Aunt Alicia’s sister, but Madeline Fenton had been his mom.

…Was still his mom.

Would…would always be his mom.

Danny wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Still, the flying and everything was still new to him. It took almost ten minutes to get himself off the ground without floating off willy nilly.

It took another half an hour to remember how to go through walls.

By the time Danny fell (as in actually, literally, leaned up against the wall and then realized he’d not made contact the way he’d expected to) through the house wall, it was almost eight at night. Aunt Alicia was still listening to Prairie Home Companion downstairs on the radio.

Whatever. He was out of there. He was sure he looked crazy—his hair was white, which was almost impossible to hide—but all he had to do was get out of there fast enough that no one connected one teenage runaway with a backpack to Danny Fenton.

It was fine.

It was all going to be fine.

…And if there wasn’t someone who’d help him. Well. Being homeless didn’t sound…so bad…?

…Or maybe he’d just squat in the burnt out ruins of Fentonworks. That sounded fine too.

Morning broke. Danny ended up in a tiny town somewhere in Mississippi.

A nice guy at the coffee shop gave him a cup of water and told him where the local library was. A librarian plugged her login details for him on a public computer, and Danny was able to look up one “Vladmir Masters”…

…CEO and owner of DALVco, millionaire, and Green Bay Packers megafan.

Holy crap.

Like… There were hospital wings with his name on them. Charities operating out of his company. Every picture of the man was perfectly taken in perfect lighting with perfect suits and precise smirks and bright-white magazine article paper.

Danny went back up to the librarian. “Do you have any articles on…uh…Vlad Masters?”

The librarian smiled warmly. “Ah, school project?”

“Sure,” Danny lied, milk on his tongue.

Vlad Masters was a self-made millionaire. He lived in a castle in Wisconsin that used to be owned by a dairy empire kingpin. He went to—

Danny read the line again

—He went to the same college as Mom and Dad. The year looked right, too. They might have even graduated in the exact same year. If only Danny could still check Dad’s college ring in the bottom of their junk drawer.

Wisconsin. Vlad Masters lived in Wisconsin.

…Danny was really lucky he was never all that hungry anymore.

Danny got another cup of water at the coffee shop, washed his face in the bathroom, and got ready to fly another night.

He was no sextant, but he could probably figure out how to get to Wisconsin after a couple of hours of flying, and a little time to gauge the sky.

It would be easy.

…Danny’s white-topped, pale face stared back at him from the restroom mirror.

It had to be. It would have to be easy.

So, a cheese castle looked a lot like a regular castle.

Danny squinted up at the stonework. Nah, that looked like…a castle. That being said, it looked more specifically like the castle he was looking for—the one that had been featured in Vlad Masters’s house tour in Architecture Daily magazine two years ago.

Same…roof bits. Same big door. Danny swallowed. Same…tower? Were there better words for these? There were definitely better words for all the tricky stone bits in the castle.

Whatever. Danny was praying that the man was actually home today, as opposed to flying across the country on some kind of business trip. Rich people did business trips, right?

Danny floated up to the front door. There was no doorbell.

…Danny bit his lip. Okay. So there was no doorbell. There was a very large, brass door knocker. It looked kind of like a big monster face, with a ring held in its teeth.

The knocker was just high enough off the ground that Danny had to float to get there. Lifting it was a struggle.

When it knocked, the whole door buzzed with sound.

Danny waited.

…He waited.

And…Danny waited.

No one came.

Danny picked at the skin of his lip. What if he just…went in?

Like. It was a big house. Maybe Vlad Masters just hadn’t heard him at all? Maybe he was just…in the basement or something…?

Danny paced midair. On one hand. He’d come all this way. He had to follow through. He had to see if there was…something. Anything. Anything at all—anything that could possibly connect Masters to his family.

Any connection that wasn’t Aunt Alicia would be worth breaking and entering.

On the other hand. Home invasion was and would remain illegal.

Danny grimaced.

He…stuck his head through the door.

There was a hallway on the other side. A little end table. A guest book.

…Okay. Danny slipped through the door. He was breaking and entering now— or at least…entering.

Inside was dark. Gloomy. Comfortable, sure— lots of soft furnishings, curtains, couches, pillow, lounging things— but very…opaque in atmosphere.

He was glowing, he noticed. That probably was pretty bad on the “trying not to get caught” scale.

There was no one upstairs. Danny drifted through room after empty room and up into floor after empty floor. There was a kitchen, and the food therein were largely preserved items. There was nothing in the fridge.

Danny’s stomach cramped. There was no one here.

…Maybe he should look downstairs?

The castle got colder the further down he went. The windows that at least allowed the minimal light that escaped through the tree cover in the castle vanished. The only light left was Danny.

Danny floated down deeper.

There were doors made of metal in a long, stone hallway. Each had different numbers on them. Danny followed the rows of doors.

There were wires on the floor. They were organized by color and bound by little ties, until they weren’t, and Danny eventually ran out of tangled webs of red and blue plastic to follow.

They ended at a closed door.

Danny hesitated. He poked his head through.

On the other side was a ghost.

Danny jerked back. He’d— he clapped his hand over his mouth. That was—! And sure, Danny was something like that now, but he’d never seen—!

He should leave. Danny should leave.

Danny barely made it three doors down.

Going somewhere? something asked him. Danny shivered.

The ghost appeared on his left in ethereal white, black hair pulled behind him in some sort of half-halo. Unlike Danny, who was in something like half-hazmat, half-hoodie, the ghost wore a long, glowing labcoat, appropriate PPE beneath.

Danny’s breath fogged up in his mouth. He flinched. “Sorr—” he tried. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to be here.”

The ghost looked at him with bright red eyes. Danny floated a few steps back. Spying, are you?

Danny shook his head. “No!! No, I just— I was looking for— I wasn’t spying! I’m sorry! I didn’t know you li— died here! I’ll leave!”

The ghost’s head tilted. For a second, Danny thought that he was going to throw a punch. And then—

You’re already here, the ghost pointed out, and opened a door. Beyond it was…something similar to a doctor’s office. An examination table with the paper on it. One of those blood pressure cuffs, attached to a printer for the readout. A sink. Sundry tongue depressors. You may as well consent to be helped.

“...Helped with what?” Danny asked nervously, fingers flexing. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

The ghost hummed— not in the way voices hummed, but in the way high voltage sang in distant powerlines. You are newly formed, aren’t you? Most can tell a ghost’s nature from its presence alone.

Danny looked away. “Um. You know. You might be the first ghost I’ve ever met.”

The ghost’s feet almost touched the ground. It stared down at him. It was taller than he was, and when it stared, it made Danny want to run away.

…Truly, the ghost asked(?), and it took Danny a second to realize it was a question.

“Maybe I died a little recently…” Danny tried, trailing off into a mumble. Was there a right answer to this?

…I see. That would make this check-up more urgent, then. Might I encourage you to come this way?

Danny followed him into the room.

It felt… It looked and felt exactly like any other doctor’s appointment, excepting that the doctor involved in the process had blue skin and fangs and a hairstyle that defied gravity. The ghost still wore gloves and didn’t poke him or prod him too hard, though, so that was a bonus.

Danny got his pulse taken. (None.) Danny got his lungs checked. (Not breathing.) Danny got his resonance? looked at? Whatever that was? It was a big scanny thing that looked like an X ray and took pictures of his chest.

The readings were real pretty, whatever they were; the whole film print was taken up with splotches of white and clear blue. It kind of shimmered when Danny tilted his head.

You’re quite powerful for a newly formed ghost, the ghost offered, overlooking papers Danny couldn’t quite see on his clipboard. It flipped through once. Twice. You’re clearly not attached to your place of death, so that’s not why… Are you aware of any compulsions to follow an Obsession yet…?

A ghostly obsession? Danny knew what that was— it was one of his parents’ theories on why ghosts persisted after death! Was it was true?

“Um,” Danny said, unsure. He hadn’t…had he? “Not that I know of?”

The ghost paused. It clicked its pen. It marked something down on Danny’s chart. Interesting.

Ominous.

May I quickly test something? the ghost asked, looking up at Danny. It would only take a moment. If it does not work, there will be no other side effects other than mild discomfort and an activated flight response.

Danny shifted. The paper crackled underneath him. “...Does it hurt?”

No.

The ghost added nothing more.

Danny’s…head jerked up and down. It was fine. It would be fine.

The ghost’s hand circled his wrist. Its touch burned like fire.

And then light, like how Danny burned away one form for another—

—Danny was left on the table, no longer weightless, no longer breathless. He was flesh. He was human again.

Vlad Masters stared back at him.

…Huh.

Mr. Masters— Vlad?— licked dry lips, staring at Danny, whose wrist he still held. Danny…didn’t know if he could move. Danny didn’t know if he knew how to move.

“...Daniel?” Mr. Masters’s voice cracked. His eyes moved up and down Danny’s body, from his raggedy hair to his dirt-stained clothes to his beat-up shoes. “Daniel Fenton?”

Danny winced. “It’s just Danny,” he offered hoarsely. His throat bobbed. “You…know me?”

Mr. Masters moved his grip to Danny’s hand, apparently moved to tears. Without the red in his eyes, he just looked…human enough. “Daniel— Danny, how did you— Are you dead? What happened?”

Danny felt the weight of everything push down on him again, as if it had ever let up on him since the portal incident. Mom and Dad’s funerals. Jazz in the emergency room. Being resuscitated by the EMTs. Getting shipped out to Aunt Alicia’s house without warning.

“House blew up.”

That was succinct enough, right?

The man’s face turned devastated. “I heard— I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry, Danny.”

…It was more concern than anyone had shown in a long time. His eyes were wet before he knew it. When he wiped his face with his sleeve, the dampness was enough to leave little streaks of mud on his face— and, ugh, he felt filthy.

“It’s okay,” Danny lied, because it wasn’t. He pressed his sleeve to his eyes. “It’s…you know my parents?”

Mr. Masters took a deep, surprised breath. “Yes. We…weren’t in contact after we graduated from school together, but Jack always… He asked me by email to be your godfather, right before you were born. I said yes, but I have no idea if he ever filed the paperwork.”

Oh.

…Oh.

There were clearly more secrets here. Mr. Masters was a ghost, and so was Danny. He lived in a giant castle that was clearly haunted, which was made obvious by the owner. He was Danny’s godfather, and Danny had never once met him.

And he wasn’t Aunt Alicia.

Danny sucked the spit off of his teeth with his tongue. “Can I stay here?”

Mr. Masters made a wounded, desperate expression. “I would rather you did.”

“Can you teach me how to be a ghost?”

The man persevered through what were clearly heavy feelings. “...If I must.”

“Can I have dinner?” was Danny’s final question. “Like. On the regular?”

There was a second where Mr. Masters’s eyes went red. The castle suddenly felt taut with anticipation. Fury crawled on Danny’s skin. He could feel the pressure digging in search of some way to burrow into his flesh.

And then it was gone.

“Of course you can. You are a growing boy.”

Danny smiled shyly, barely showing his teeth. When he smiled for real in the mirror, he had fangs. It was better not to. “Cool.”

Mr. Masters nodded. And when Danny looked down at the floor, he changed his grip so that Danny could hold his hand and hop down like normal.

“It will be alright,” Mr. Masters promised quietly. It seemed to be just as much for him as it was for Danny. “Or…I’ll take care of it. Whatever happens. You’re not alone, Danny.”

Danny had been alone for almost half a year. It had felt like forever. “Thanks.” He sniffed.

They walked upstairs from the basement laboratory together, in a way Mom and Dad never would again.

#phic phight 2024 #danny phantom #vlad masters #I forget Alicia's last name ngl #dead fenton parents #Jazz is sir not appearing in this film #danny fenton #good!Vlad au #phic phight #RIP a prarie home companion you were a cool show but your host was [REDACTED] of course you were gonna get cancelled #my and my persistent love of landlines #faer fic #I do not LIKE vlad. However. This intrigued me.#dead ghost man who furthers the study of ghosts while knowing his college besties might take advantage of him for their own research. whack #anyway. the portal blew up #phic phight 24

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ghostboneswrites2 · 1 month

Text

You Ran

Summary: Your boyfriend is a known abuser but nobody does anything to stop it. (Similar to the Jess situation.) When Daryl goes out of his way to help, you lash out, realizing that he might have helped you for the night, but it would surely only get worse from there. When Deanna makes it clear she has little to no intentions of addressing the issue, you take matters into your own hands.

18+ MDNI || Warnings: Profanity, non-graphic references to abuse, one instance of descriptive abuse (slapping & pushing), description of bruising, TWD typical violence

Part 2: You Were Found

Note: This story may not be suitable for all audiences. It's not intentionally triggering but as a former victim of abuse / witness to the abuse of a parent I did channel a bit of my own trauma into this.

You anxiously tugged at your sleeves, ensuring the bruising around your wrist would be hidden as you worked your shift at the armory. Usually Olivia would handle the pantry and armory combined, but with rations getting low and runs becoming a more frequent necessity, you offered to help her with one or the other. The Alexandrians were getting antsy, crowding the pantry all hours of the day to try and intimidate Olivia out of extra rations, selfishly complaining that they needed more, regardless of who had to go hungry for their bellies to be filled.

You had only been at Alexandria for a year, maybe. You and your boyfriend bumped into Aaron and Eric on the road, and he graciously invited you to his home. You often found yourself missing what you had with him on the road. He never hit you or raised his voice. He was always tender and protective. The only goal either of you had was to see another day together. Somehow, though, when you arrived here, everything changed. It was like the safety of the walls left him too much time to recall the horrors of the time you spent out in the open. PTSD ravaged him, and he became a mere shell of his former self.

He'd become overwhelmed with rage. He'd shout, break things, attack you.. Truth be told, you changed too. Once the violence began, you became reclusive and shy. You thought if you looked anyone in the eye for too long they'd be able to see your problems at home written all over your face. It wasn't a risk worth taking.

The people noticed, too. When you first arrived, you were goofy and talkative, excited for any human contact. You never stayed inside too long. You always offered to help anyone you saw with yard work, hauling, preparing. You'd see the kids playing or hanging out and offer them a drink or ask to join their game of hide and seek. Slowly, though, that changed, beginning right around the time your boyfriend changed.

See, Ty was the kind of guy to smile at his neighbor and offer a hand in lifting that heavy couch, or ask a fellow passerby how their day was going. He was eager to be given a job, to contribute. It was mere weeks before the depression krept in and stole everything lively about him away, leaving room for the more sinister post-trauma to settle in in the wake of his joy. You tried to pull him out of it. You stayed by his side every step of the way, and at first he was grateful, but somehow he grew to resent you. He felt sick to his stomach at your sweet nature, at how effortlessly you acclimated to any semblance of normalcy. He felt left behind, like you were going to bloom and expose all your petals while he remained shriveled underneath the surface.

That was when his outbursts began. The damage to your surroundings followed soon after, and that only escalated to violence. It wasn't every day, but it was often. Most people avoided him, and even you, but a select few kept in touch. Mostly Olivia and Denise.

"It's hot today, love. Don't you wanna take that sweater off?" Olivia asked innocently as he brought in your clipboard. "I did a quick inventory last night, go ahead and check it out again. They should be by soon to check out for their run."

"Okay." You smiled and nodded, checking off every gun, scope, and round of ammunition. You were quickly bored so you started arranging everything neatly, setting the larger rifles and shotguns on the pegs of the utility wall, carefully laying out each pistol, lining up the mags and ammunition, organizing the sights by magnification.

"Need a few things." A husky voice startled you. You spun to face him fast, relaxing a bit at the familiar face. It was just Daryl. A lot of people found him intimidating or mean, but you figured he was just quiet. Most people in Alexandria were blissfully unaware of the world beyond the walls and what it could do to a person.

"Oh, go ahead." You pressed your lips into a thin smile. "Just let me know what you take so I can.." You held up the clipboard. He nodded and wandered around the room, picking up a few pistols and sliding the mags inside, which you had graciously preloaded for them already.

"Can ya toss me that AR?" He asked. You reached up and lifted it off the prongs, walking it over to him. "Is it loaded?" He wondered as he reached to grab it. His eyes stuck to your wrists, which had been exposed as your sleeves rode up your arm through the mundane tasks you had been performing. You didn't really notice his gaze.

"Yeah, I--" You paused as his hand grabbed yours and turned it over, looking at the purple and blue marks littering your skin. They were clearly left from another hand.

You yanked your hand back and adjusted your sleeves shamefully. Embarrassment encased you. It wasn't that you worried about intervention, perse. The entire community knew what was happening behind closed doors and they all swept it under the rug, not willing to intervene and disturb the peace in their blissfully ignorant suburb.

"Sorry, it's nothing." You mumbled, brushing your dull hair behind your ear. Funny enough, you were a social worker before shit hit the fan. You were well trained in signs of abuse and malnourishment, in both women and children. Thin, dull hair was often a sign of abuse in the sense that one's body can be in a constant state of fight-or-flight and the adrenaline could take a real toll on someone's health. Usually accompanied by less than healthy BMI, timidness, always looking at the ground when they walk, avoiding eye contact, only speaking when spoken to, the list went on. It was like a sick joke, being a poster child for the textbook signs of abuse, the very thing you were trained to protect and remove the vulnerable from.

"It ain't." He said quietly.

"No, really. It's fine." You forced a smile. "Was that all you needed, or..?"

He studied you for a moment, deciding it wasn't the right time to address it.

"Need a scope." He relented.

"Oh, they're right there." You pointed to the shelf. He nodded and picked one.

"Just these." He said, displaying his haul. You recorded each item and nodded.

"Okay. Be safe out there." You smiled. He grunted and walked out. You let out a breath, praying that slip up wouldn't have consequences.

----

You slowly entered the bedroom where Ty would be enjoying his typical glass of whatever booze he could get his hands on. Recently he even resorted to fermenting fruit for his own mead.

"Dinner." You said shyly, setting it on the end table beside the bed, knowing better than to interrupt him too much.

"It's about time." He slurred. "I'm starving."

You hung your head low as you scurried out of the room, gently pulling the door shut behind him. If you closed it too loud, he'd think you slammed it, and that was sure to trigger a response.

You sat down on the couch downstairs, picking at your food in an attempt to grow and appetite. You had a knot in your gut all day after the encounter with Daryl. You had this nagging feeling that it was sure to turn into more than an awkward interaction.

And you were right.

Knock knock.

A casual double knock wasn't typical around there. Most people, if they dared to stop by, tapped lightly and persistently. You set the food on the coffee table and pulled the door open.

"Oh." You blinked at the quiet huntsman. "Don't do this." You pleaded, just above a whisper.

"Do what?" He shrugged. "Just came to drop this off."

He was nonchalant, but you both knew what he was doing. He held out a bag with some rations.

"We usually get rations at the pantry." You said apprehensively.

"Mm. Decided to drop by after we unloaded." He explained absently, more focused on the house behind you as he searched from the doorway.

"Well, thanks." You reached for the bag but he seized the opportunity to grab you hand again and pull your sleeve up.

Carol stepped into view from beside him. She was hidden from your sights before that, right beside the front door. She looked down at your wrist then back up at you.

"Enjoy the rations." Was all she said as she walked away. Daryl brought her along to judge the situation. Given both of their pasts, he thought there'd be no better duo to help.

You snatched the bag back and eyed Daryl.

"What's this?" Ty asked from behind you, empty plate in hand. His eyes lingered on Daryl and flashed with jealousy.

"This is Daryl." You stepped to the side.

"I know his name, damn it. What's he doing here?"

"Just dropping by with some food." You explained hurriedly attempting to avoid any kind of confrontation.

"The pantry out of commission or something?" Ty asked suspiciously, stepping toward you.

"No, they just--"

"Just stocked it up. Olivia asked me to drop some things off for (Y/N)." Daryl spoke up.

"Huh." Ty hummed, looking Daryl up and down and decided it wouldn't be a fair fight. "Thanks." Was all he said before he shut the door in Daryl's face. He watched the door as he listened to Daryl walk down the steps before his eyes found you. You gulped.

"Just some food." You mumbled, extending your arm to show him the bag. He snatched it and you jumped. He looked over the contents inside. Typical things like canned goods and bread. "I needed some--"

You began to formulate an excuse to keep his rage at bay, but he cut you short with an open handed slap across the cheek.

"I told you no guests." He seethed.

"I didn't know they were coming." You whimpered, hand holding your throbbing skin as your hair slipped over your face.

He shoved you into the wall and the impact knocked a picture frame down, shattering all over the tile.

The door swung open just then and Daryl's stocky figure hurdled at Ty, taking him to the ground.

"Ya like beatin' up on little girls?" Daryl seethed, straddling Ty and landing two punches across his face. "Huh? Why don't ya pick on somebody your own size, ya prick?!"

Daryl had walked down the steps loudly to trick Ty, then he waited for any sign he needed to intervene. Carol went to get Rick. It was all planned.

You scrambled away from the scene, stunned. You couldn't watch for very long before you felt compelled to intervene.

"Daryl.." You pleaded, trying and failing to pull him back. Daryl punched Ty over and over.

"Answer me, ya sick fuck! You like beatin' up on your girl? It make ya feel big and bad? Huh?!"

"Daryl!" You pleaded.

That was when Rick rushed over with Michonne and Carol in tow.

"Daryl, stop!" Rick ordered. Hesitantly, Daryl stood up to his feet and Rick stepped in front of him. Rick took in the scene of your bloodied boyfriend writhing on the ground, you cowering away. "What happened?" He asked you. You couldn't speak.

"Bastard's been hittin' her!" Daryl spoke up for you, still pacing and circling like a hungry predator.

"That true?" Rick asked you. He noticed your red cheek and your generally timid nature. You didn't answer, but you didn't need to. Rick nodded and looked back down to Ty. "Alright. Michonne, help me get him to the cell. We can try to explain this to Deanna tomorrow."

Rick and Michonne dragged Ty away as you stared at Daryl bewildered. Suddenly, a flash of rage washed over you.

"Do you know what you've done?!" You shouted through tears. "It's only gonna get so much worse now!"

Daryl was stunned. He took offense to the fact that he went out of his way to defend a stranger only for them to turn around and lash out at him, as if he had wronged her.

"It was only gonna get worse if I didn't do nothin'!" He defended.

"You don't get it! He'll be home tomorrow and it'll start all over again, only worse this time!" You sobbed. "You should have just left it alone."

"He ain't comin' back here."

"Yes he is! Have you ever seen anyone be punished here? Do you see any laws posted? Did you get a handbook when you arrived?" You tried to explain. "Deanna will let him out tomorrow and everyone's just going to pretend like it never happened; like nothing is wrong. That's how things work here."

"Well then pack up and go. Get outta here 'fore he comes back." Daryl shrugged. You scoffed.

"And go where? I barely know these people. You think Deanna's just gonna give me a whole house to myself? Even if she did, how long do you think it'll be before he shows up at my door? Are you gonna be there to save me then too?"

Tears were still streaming freely down your cheeks. Your voice cracked and trembled with fear and rage.Daryl was speechless. He didn't know what to do to help you. He wondered if you were right, if he should've just left things how they were and minded his own business. Maybe he was fool to think he had any right meddling in your life just because he had been through similar things.

"Can't just let ya sit here and get beat." He finally spoke. You scoffed and shook your head, running a hand over your flustered face.

"Well you don't really have a choice. I have nowhere to go." You said, holding your arms out and gesturing around you. "This is where I live, this is where he lives, and this is my life now."

"Nah. Rick's gon' talk to Deanna. He's gon' fix this."

----

The next morning, Rick and Daryl showed up at Deanna's bright and early, with Michonne and Carol in tow.

"So you attacked him?" Deanna asked, eying Daryl. He scoffed.

"After he beat up his girl, again. And from the sounds of it you all know exactly what goes on over there and don't do a damn thing to fix it!" Daryl spat. He was frustrated with the entire situation, but more so with the lack of action from the community or its leader to protect all of its citizens. Rick held his hand out to Daryl and gave him a look, silently asking him to calm down. Daryl began pacing.

"We don't know for sure that anything like that was happening. We can't act on suspicion alone--"

"We saw the bruises." Carol cut Deanna off. "All around her wrists, where someone grabbed her."

"And I heard him throw her into the wall." Daryl added, straining to keep his voice down. "Waited on the porch 'til he thought I was gone and heard it all."

"Her face was red too." Michonne spoke up. "When we got there. The whole left side was lit up."

Deanna looked to Rick, who nodded in confirmation. Deanna pondered for a moment.

"So then what do you suggest I do? Leave him locked up in a cell underneath my house?" She asked rhetorically. It was clear she had no intentions of facing the issue.

"What ya do is tell him to get lost." Daryl said as if it was obvious. To him, it was. No room for abusers in a functional society.

"What Daryl means to say is maybe you van give him an ultimatum. If he can't keep his hands off people, then he has no place here." Rick tried to smooth out the situation. Deanna was already more focused on Daryl attacking Ty than he was on the year-long assault Ty waged against your body.

"I can't just start throwing threats around and --"

"You need to protect your people." Michonne spoke slowly. "That means not leaving one to suffer just to keep everyone else comfortable."

"This isn't a comfortable world." Carol added meekly, maintaining that denmother persona she played so well.Deanna sighed.

"Suppose I give him this.. ultimatum.. Then what? What happens when he hits her again?" Deanna asked. Daryl stopped pacing and stared at her, arms hanging down at his sides. He was baffled.

"Then ya stand on what ya said and throw him out." He deadpanned.

"And what do I tell my people?"

"The truth!" Daryl threw his hands up in frustration.

"Okay, Daryl, maybe you should take a minute to cool off." Rick sighed.

"No need." Deanna held her hand up. "I've heard enough. I have a lot to think about."

----

You had cleaned up the house the best you could and worked hard to make sure food was ready on the kitchen island for when Ty came home. You were sure nothing would contain the rage he'd feel, but you hoped you could butter him up enough to avoid his fist.

Someone knocked just as you were setting the tray of lasagna on the counter. You rushed over to answer, surprised to see Deanna.

"(Y/N). Have time to chat?" She smiled. You stepped aside and let her in, crossing your arms over your chest as she strolled past you and stood facing you. "I've been thinking a lot about your situation."

"Oh...?" You raised your eyebrows.

"I don't believe it's in the best interest of the community to blow this out of proportion." She began. You rolled your eyes and focused on a random tile on the floor. You already knew where she was taking it. "I've heard the testimonies from Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and Carol. They can all confirm that maybe things aren't the most peaceful for you here."

"Huh." You hummed.

"The thing is, I can't just leave Tyler in a cell, or kick him out of Alexandria. That would cause fear. People would be wondering who's next, or what simple mistakes could end up getting them banished." She went on. "I have a duty to my people."

"Am I your people?" You asked suddenly. You didn't mean to say it, but you did mean it.

"Well -- Yes." She stuttered, caught off guard.

"So then what does that mean for me? The need to keep everyone comfortable trumps the need to keep one person safe from another?"

You didn't want Ty to be banished or to be imprisoned. You just wanted a safe way out. You loved him, of course you did. He was good once, but that part of him was gone.

"That's not what I'm saying." She insisted.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm not sure what to do to keep you safe." She admitted. "At least not without--"

"Without making the others feel uncomfortable. I get it." You summarized.

"Right, well... I just need more time to think it over, to speak with people I trust to make the right judgement here. I will figure this out for you, (Y/N)."

You didn't believe her.

"When are you letting him out?" You asked. She didn't seem to understand. "Of the cell, I mean. When are you sending him back here?"

"I'm not sure." She said quietly.

"Right. Well I have a lot to do before he gets here, so if you don't mind..." You nodded over to the door. She gave a quick goodbye before she left, and you took some time to think. Maybe nobody else could help you. Maybe you just had to take matters into your own hands.

----

The wall was menacingly tall. You stared up the height of it, gulping, adjusting the straps of your backpack as you did. You had seen Enid climb it before, so you were sure you could do the same. With a deep breath, you hoisted yourself up the steel beam and climbed with all your strength, dropping down on the other side once you had reached the top. You quickly grabbed the biggest kitchen knife you could find from your bag and tucked it into your belt, before digging for the loaded pistol you stole from the armory and sliding it into the back of your waistband.

You double checked that you had food, water, and a change of clothes in the large part of the bag. You checked the front pocket for all the first aid you could fit. When you were satisfied, you tossed one last glance at the walls of Alexandria, and you ran.

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tags:@kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow

#the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

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tsams-confessions · 2 months

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Not so short confession about Eclipse and the entire TSAMS lore: Eclipse was only the bad guy because everyone treated him like one.

Hate me all you want, but was prooven with KC, Solar, old Moon, Lunar (who is technically all that was good inside Eclipse) Ruin, heck, even with Sun that with a TINY BIT of love and care, anyone can change for the better. Solar needed his Sun to care about him in the start, and he never became a bad guy, even after his Sun died. KC needed, what? A 10 MINUTES LONG FRIENDLY CONVO with Glamrock Freddy, and after that he overcame his base coding. Old Moon sacrifised himself to not kill anymore person, giving KC and himself a chance in life to be better. Ruin was saved because new Moon and Sun risked their lifes and only way back to their home to get the cure for Ruin, even though Ruin brought Bloodmoon back, blew up the daycare and tormented them worse than Eclipse. Sun didn't go insane and potentially more suicidal because Earth showed up (I don't think he would've survived the guilt of loosing Moon without her). And Lunar... Eclipse got rid of his part that cared and wanted to be more than a villain, the part of him that longed for love and understanding... and to be fair I would be mad too if I was doomed to be a villain, and then the people who wronged me accepted my scrapped loving part without hesitation (which I scrapped because I hated I cared about said people) while I never got a chance to show I can be better. This doesn't justify what Eclipse did, because he still killed Lunar. Imma say it louder so everyone will understand: THIS DOESN'T JUSTIFY WHAT ECLIPSE DID TO LUNAR, BECAUSE IT WAS HORRIBLE AND WRONG IN SO MANY LEVELS!!!

But who didn't hurt/traumatize/killed their loved ones here? Old Moon was hardcore abusive with Sun and started this whole Eclipse problem (Moon cared still, but that doesn't excuse what he did to Sun), Sun killed Bloodmoon and hate to say it but he killed old Moon too without wanting to, KC, who was literally redeemed and forgiven killed probably hundreds of innocent people. Sun even gave Bloodmoon one last chance to be redeemed, but Eclipse? This mf died while trying to warn the only people he still somehow cared for, no matter how scrapped he was. He was begging to be heard out, not giving a flying fuck if Sun hurts him (and sidenote, even when Moon threatened to kill Eclipse, he accepted it, just wanted to be heard out, while Solar, when his Moon was truthfully wanting to kill him, he killed his Moon. Eclipse didn't even bother). He could've use the star to stop Sun, and he didn't.

And that's what I love in the lore of TSAMS, because this doesn't seem unintentional. Every now and then it's shown and prooven that with a tiny bit of understanding and love, ANYONE can change. All of the main characters (except for Earth and Lunar) did horrible things beforehand, and the only reason they stayed sane and didn't go down on a bad path on the long run because they had love and support by their side. Eclipse died TWICE, and even though it was confirmed by a celestial being who WATCHES THE ENTIRE COSMOS that this Eclipse is not the one who killed Lunar, he still payes the prize of V1 and 2 Eclipse's actions. And honestly... I don't understand new Moon and Solar, the two genius of the current lore: what do you expect from this copy of an Eclipse? He is a literally badly put togther scrapped dude who lives with horrying memories and has no idea why he lives. JUST MAYBEEE, if you'd give him a system repair, he would be less violent and more capable of helping you? Maybe? Oh yeah right I forgot that there is one universal rule throughout all dimensions: we hate and overvillainize our og Eclipse, because anyone deserves a chance in life, expect him.

And again, I'm not trying to protect Eclipse from hate or justify what he did, because he indeed became a villain. But what about everyone else? How come everyone else's action were forgiven and got a chance to be redeemed but not him? I'm not saying everyone should forgive him, heck Lunar has all right to never forgive him! But this Eclipse didn't do the actions he gets the blame for, and he would deserve to finally have more than just hate poured onto him. They don't have to forgive Eclipse, but if KC got a chance and Sun was WILLINGLY wanting to give a chance to Bloodmoon too, Eclipse has all right to get his redemption, because with Solar, it was prooven all an Eclipse needs is love and understanding.

#sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams #tsams confession #< block this if you dont want to see these #mod 1blood

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

Dirty Work 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I'm ahead on studying so figured I'd get this going.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The television blares as you come downstairs. The hues flicker through the archway as you peek inside. Your father must’ve left it on. You’re used to finding him passed out on the couch but he’s nowhere to be seen.

You yawn into your hand, another week ahead of you. You near the couch as the volume makes your ear drums buzz. Why does he always have it so loud?

Your morning tea hazes your vision. You have those few moments of peace before you have to start the day. The warmth flowing into you, nestling in your stomach, comforting you. As you come around in search of the remote, you stumble to a stop.

Your father didn’t make it that far. He’s slumped over on the edge of the couch. Your heart leaps into your throat as you see the remote on the floor. He must have dropped it. You snatch it up and mute the television, leaving its glow to light the room.

“Dad,” you touch his shoulder, but you already know. He’s not rasping or coughing or choking. Oh no. Oh no no no.

You try to roll him onto his back, then to sit him up. You can’t move him. He’s limp and heavy and…

You run away, racing upstairs to grab your phone from your night table. The charging cord snaps out of the port as you flip it open and rush back to the first floor. You’re panting as you key in the emergency number and put the phone to your cheek.

“Hello!” You nearly shriek at the operator as they answer, “my dad! My dad!” You shake your head as you try to gather yourself, “my dad’s not moving. He’s not breathing.”

“Alright, ma’am, I need you to calm down, can you do that for me?” The man coaxes.

“I don’t know,” you whine.

“Ma’am, you gotta calm down. You wanna help him, don’t you? So take a breath, alright?”

You inhale and let it out, “he’s not breathing,” you babble again.

“Okay, ma’am, you gotta get him on his back for me, can you do that?”

“Y-yes,” you chuff out and go back to the couch. You push on your dad, lifting his arm until he flops onto his back, “he’s on his back.”

“Alright, do you know CPR?” The operator asks.

“I… yes,” you gulp. The doctor sent you to lessons after your dad got the tank. He said it was standard for family members. Your dad told you it was garbage. “Yes, I know how.”

“Good, I need you to breathe for him. You remember the steps, right?”

“I– I can do it,” you say convincing yourself as much as him.

“Do it now, alright? I want you to keep on until the ambulance gets there. You don’t stop,” he says calmly, “I’m tracing your location and I have people on the way.”

“I’m… I’m gonna do it. Now.”

You place the phone down and hit the button for the speaker. You stand over your father’s limp body as your eyes gloss with tears. He can’t be dead. You won’t let him do that. He never listens to you but you’re not going to let him die.

You tilt his head up and move the oxygen tube out of the way. You put your hands on his chest and pump, keeping count as you do. Then you pinch his nose and bend over him, blowing into his mouth, just how they showed you.

You don’t stop. You won’t. You can’t believe this is happening. It’s not going to happen. You can’t lose your dad. He’s all you have. He’s all you’ve ever had.

You hear sirens and the operator speaking to you. You tune it all out as you focus on your dad. You’re crying as you pump again. One, two, three…

The world is foggy around you as you count, over and over. You feel someone touching you, pulling you away. There’s noise all around as the colours turn to blurry orbs all around you. You fight to get free until you realise it’s okay. They’ve come to help.

You watch the paramedics in their white shirts work on your father as another stands beside you. She hands you your phone as the operator talks to you.

“It’s okay, ma’am, they’re going to get him to the hospital,” he assures. “And take care of you.”

You thank him in a wobbly voice and shut the phone. The woman beside you gives a sympathetic look. The men by your father mutter.

“He’s breathing,” one declares, “get the stretcher.”

“He’s… he’s alive?” You squeak.

“Stand back,” the paramedic beside you stops you from going forward, “gotta let them get him loaded up.”

“Is he going to be okay?” You murmur.

“We can evaluate him at the hospital,” she insists, “you can ride with him but first, they need to get him there.”

You nod and wipe your wet cheeks. He’s alive. Barely. You think you might have saved him. For once, you think you did something right.

🧹

You call into work as you sit out in the waiting room. You hope missing your shift doesn’t affect your probation. Clara thanks you for letting her know but you expect it’s a hassle she doesn't want.

You have your spring jacket pulled over your pajamas and a pair of slip-on sneakers. You wring your hands almost raw as you wait and watch the clock. You are overflowing with anxiety.

You rock in your chair as the minutes stretch to hours. You see others come and go. Some in rough shape, others on their own strength. Stretchers roll in and out, occupied or otherwise. The sterile scent dries your nostrils and stains your tongue.

As noon rolls around, you get up and find the vending machines just inside the entrance. You drop coins in the slot and push the button for an English tea. The cup drops down into place and the nozzle churns loudly, spitting out thinly steeped tea. It’s better than nothing.

You return to your seat and blow over the top of the cup. Your mind pendulums between the room down your hall and the beeping machines, and the empty house with its fantastical gardens. You should’ve been mopping Mr. Laufeyson’s floors that day.

You finish half the tea before you give up on it. It’s lukewarm and bland. You slouch down and cross your arms. Your eyelids droop but you won’t let them close. You yawn and watch a woman comfort her sniffling child as he sneezes into her shirt.

It’s all so surreal. It feels like a dream. It is your worst nightmare. The doctor warned you but you hoped… you hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

Your name is called and you sit up, nearly jumping out of the seat. You wave your hand and approach the woman in blue scrubs.

“That’s me,” you gulp.

“You can come see him now,” she says.

You blink, “he’s okay?”

She gives you a look, “he’s stable. Come this way.”

She turns back as the large double doors open inward and strides forward. You follow her and she leads you to a room. She points you inside. “He’s on the other side of the curtain.”

“Thank you,” you utter before she’s off. Everyone is in a hurry there. You suppose they have to be.

You turn and look at the closed curtain around the first bed. You pass it and peek around the next. You find your dad, eyes shut, tubes crisscrossed all around him as a machine echoes his heartbeat. You pull the curtain shut and sit in the stiff plastic chair just near the end of his bed. You stare at him, eyes welling hotly.

“I tried,” you croak, “I really tried, dad.”

You drop your face into your hands and let yourself fall apart. You bawl, swallowing down your sobs as you choke. You try not to make too much noise in your grief. You wouldn’t want to disturb your neighbour. But you can’t stop yourself. You’re sorry. You’re so sorry.

You let him down again.

🧹

Your father wakes up the next day. He isn’t cognizant as he thrashes and chokes on the tube down his throat. You hit the bell and stand back to watch in shock. The nurses rush in and shoo you out.

It’s hours before you see him again. The new nurse says he’s sedated and will need to be for a while. You ask if he’s okay. Again. Her answer isn’t much of one.

You spend the first two nights sleeping in the plastic chair. You can’t bring yourself to sleep in the house alone, but you have to leave him. You have a job that day and you need the money. Especially after seeing the invoice for the ambulance.

You go home and change on the third morning and go down to the east side for your assignment. You get through it without thinking. You just do. The familiarity of scrubbing, sweeping, and mopping mutes your emotion. Outside the hospital, you can almost pretend it’s not real.

When you finish, you go back to the hospital. You eat in the cafeteria before you go to your father’s room. Your stomach mulches painfully as your body greedily digests the processed chicken noodle soup. It’s your first meal since the day you got there.

Those yellow walls become your new home. You only leave to go to your third shift that week and otherwise linger. When the nurses send you out, you have tea in the cafeteria or choke down another unappetizing meal from a plastic tray.

Your father’s awake on Sunday night. They tell you they’re weaning him off the sedation. His eyes are glassy and confused. He doesn’t look like himself and for more than the tubes that keep him alive.

Monday morning you say goodbye and promise to be back after work. He grumbles and coughs. He doesn’t have a feeding tube anymore but hasn’t said a word. You don’t know if he can or if he just has nothing to say.

You set off to Mr. Laufeyson’s house. Another week. You’re halfway through probation but you won’t celebrate. You only want to panic. You need money. You need more shifts. Three houses a week for another month and a half won’t do.

As always, you just have to take what you can get.

You shake off the last week before you cross the threshold. Hopefully your eyes aren’t too swollen. Between the lack of sleep and crying, they’re raw and itchy.

You open your phone and click the stubborn button on the keypad to scroll. You put in the code and push through the gate. The garden is a blur of green as you ignore it. You’re not there to watch the leaves dance or breathe in the beauty. This place is just as gray as the rest of the world.

You go inside and begin. Shoe covers, gloves, and… you don’t have your water bottle. Oh well. You proceed down the list. Room by room, item by item. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him. You hope he’s not there.

You get to the second floor. There’s a new bullet point. ‘Study: grease the office chair.’ Huh?

You recall on your last visit how the chair squeaked with his every move. You huff and return downstairs. You go to the closet where the rest of the supplies are and find a new bottle. Small with a narrow nozzle. You read the instructions as you ascend back to the upper level.

You open the study door and stop short. You didn’t think too knock. You sputter but keep any words from spilling out. You keep a grasp on the doorknob but before you can back out, Mr. Laufeyson lifts his gaze from the laptop and catches you in his sights.

“Stay,” he demands and slowly closes the laptop lid. You wince as it clicks. “I thought you quit.”

You stand dumbly in the door. You glance from him to the wall then down at the bottle in your hand. He clicks his tongue and his chair squeaks as he leans forward.

“You may speak. I want to know where you were.”

Why? Your habitual silence keeps you from blurting that out. You clear your throat.

“I couldn’t work, that’s all,” you say, peeking up at him sheepishly.

He tilts his head as he narrows his eyes, “for what reason?”

You don’t know what to tell him. You don’t think he really cares. You roll the bottle in your grasp.

“I had an emergency,” you explain, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t–”

He puts his hand up, “they sent another one. I didn’t like her. She didn’t dust the mantle.”

“I’m sorry, sir–”

“Mr. Laufeyson will do,” he corrects.

“Mister–”

“We’re done speaking,” he interrupts.

You sniff. Did you offend him? Should you have told him more? You only want to be professional and it wouldn’t be proper to bring your personal life to work, would it?

He stands suddenly and you grip the bottle tight, keeping your arms straight at your side. He struts around the desk, his height emphasized by his long steps. He approaches you, stopping as you move out of the way of the door.

“Fix the chair,” he demands, “that damn noise is driving me mad.”

He sweeps out, leaving you grasping the bottle of grease in confusion. Is he mad? And why is he so concerned with your absence? He doesn’t seem very fond of you. Will he tell Clara? Could he have you fired?

You try not to worry about it. You already have enough on your mind. You can only do what you can do. Grease the chair and finish the job.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #avengers #thor #marvel #mcu

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gojos-thot-patrol · 7 months

Note

Listen, don’t tell canon Sukuna hold your back from delulu. But what if .. what if he lost someone?

Someone that was killed and whose weakness was they loved him? Like his s/o murdered in retaliation for his actions?

The shame and the guilt that he felt and that was the first and last time Sukuna let love distract him. I imagine a more naive Sukuna… during his youth and maybe not as established as a national menace.

I mean his s/o would be accepting of his actions and views but they found home in his heart because they loved him for him and not his power uwu

oh my god, anon your brain is so wrinkled and beautiful. (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Sukuna would have been convinced he was unlovable if not for you. If not for your soft words and gentle touches. His childhood friend who saw past the feral boys snarls and found the soft puppy there underneath.

You never clipped his claws or filed down his fangs. No, quite the contrary, you sharpened them. You stood tall next to him as he eviscerated his abusers, and firmly behind him as he took what the world owed him. Due payment for the pain he was forced to endure.

You showed him a different kind of strength. One that couldn't be built through training and fighting. You showed an emotional strength he wished he had. The ability to not only understand, but to harness and control your emotions. A strength he coveted.

He thought he would keep you by his side forever. His Queen, His Darling, His Lover. His Love. In your arms was the only place he found peace. The only place where he could ever feel truly safe. Your arms were his home.

Maybe he shouldn't have shown you off so proudly. Maybe he should have never left home that day. Or maybe he never should have dragged you into any of this shit in the first place.

He when he thinks back on the event now he remembers it in flashes and feelings. Feelings he desperately wanted to run away from. He remembered the stiffening feeling of your blood on his hands as he tried to stop your bleeding. He remembered cursing the bastards for not even having the decency to make it quick.

He remembered how your eyes glossed over. He could still feel your icy hand on his cheek. Could still hear your whisper.

"Don't stop fighting my Love."

He remembered you going limp in his arms. Still feel his hands shake the way they did as he tried desperately to bring you back, please. please just come back you cant leave him like this. He remembered the clap of thunder that shook the palace when he realized you weren't coming back.

Or maybe that was his scream.

He hadn't felt much since then. The cold hard steel of indifference being far more favorable to him than the sharp poison of an open heart. Love was a fucking joke anyway. He couldn't believe he was so naive. So foolish as to let himself be dragged around by his cock, it was pathetic. Love was pathetic. Love was an inherent risk that he would never take again.

Still. Sometimes late at night, when the rain pours down and he's forced to remember if was your favorite kind of weather, he can't deny the now foreign feeling in his heart. When he closes his eyes its your perfectly sweet smile that visits him at night. and for just a second, he feels himself crumbling again.

And then he snaps out of it. He doesn't have time for love. He has to get back to fighting.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader angst #sukuna angst #hurt no comfort #angst #whats up nonny?#sukuna ryomen

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jennaimmortal · 6 months

Text

Musings on OFMD Season 2

I’m feeling a bit sad today for the OFMD writers. After rewatching S1 & 2 a couple times, it’s become blatantly clear to me that Izzy’s arc this season was a very obvious love letter to both Izzy fans & the great Con O’Neil. Izzy was very clearly written to be an obstacle to Ed’s healing & personal growth, a snare that Ed needed to be freed from, albeit with plenty of nuance hiding under the surface. It would have been much easier for them to kill Izzy off while he was still the toxic, abusive, sadomasochistic terror of S1E10.

Instead of taking the easy route, though, the writers flipped the trope on its head! They utilized every bit of the potential buried beneath Izzy’s super fucked up shell. This season Izzy got

• a fully fleshed out redemption complete with terrible consequences of his 1x10 actions

• a realization of the possibility of another way of thinking & existing that he’d spent all of S1 running from & trying to destroy,

• genuine love & support from his crew mates which he was actually able to accept,

• exploration of the long abandoned softer side of his nature,

• an apology from Ed w/o first offering one of his own,

• a powerful, devastatingly poignant speech that mentally demolished a new nemesis, and finally

• a beautiful, meaningful death in the arms of the man he’d dedicated so much of his life to, known that he was truly loved by him & completely accepting of the fact that Ed’s love was not in the form he’d always hoped for.

It was so much more than we could have hoped for, and was very obviously done in service to the MANY fans that had fallen in love with Izzy even after S1, as well as to give Con a storyline worthy of his immense talent. Considering the face that Izzy was never going to end up becoming the show’s third protagonist, it was more than we could have hoped for!

OFMD has two protagonists, Stede & Ed. All the secondary character narratives that haven’t directly involved Ed and/or Stede have been icing on the cake, but the cake has always been the Gentlebeard love story. I feel like some people forget this, expecting them to treat the secondary characters as if it were an ensemble show instead of a show with leads.

Izzy’s arc really was an amazing gift! The writers gave us this incredible journey for Izzy this season, and what did a disgraceful number of people do? They attacked David directly, insulted the entire show, the writers, & other characters, even wishing actual harm & misery to other characters or even to David himself!

While I know that comparatively speaking, the percentage of show fans who reacted this way was relatively small, it was still an astounding amount of hatred & vitriol thrown at the people who had obviously worked very hard to give Izzy fans something beautiful to hold on to after his inevitable death. Much of the discourse honestly shocked me, considering the fact that OFMD isn’t even an adaptation of another work.

When fans get angry at shows written as adaptations of books, it’s a bit more understandable for them to have extreme reactions. They’ve had certain ideas and headcanons about characters they’ve felt very strongly about for a long time. It can be really jarring & painful when expectations like that aren’t met, the characters or plots are taken in totally different directions, or even excluded entirely.

OFMD, however, is an original creation. This is David Jenkins’s story. These are David Jenkins’s characters. He knows his story, his plotlines, his characters far better than anyone else does because they came from HIS brain! So while we as fans can have our own interpretations & head canons, they are always going to be at risk of being proven totally wrong by the ACTUAL canon.

One of the worst aspects of fandoms, in my opinion, is the way people become so proprietary over the story & characters, insisting that their own interpretations & theories are the only correct ones, which is exactly what happened with Izzy. Fans’ individual & collective interpretations, theories, hopes, & other head canons became concrete & true in their minds. So much so that when the actual story didn’t meet those expectations, so many of them lashed out in some truly unpleasant, sometimes hateful ways.

My only hope is that the rest of the fandom’s love, appreciation, constructive criticism, heartbreak, pain, joy, & excitement has been enough to drown out the deluge of vitriolic comments directed at David & the other writers.

If you stuck with me through this unintentionally long diatribe, thank you! Maybe take a moment to give the writers some comments or replies on social media, showing your love! I know I will!

#our flag means death #ofmd #ed teach #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 #ofmd izzy #izzy hands

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fandom-imagines-stories · 2 months

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Running in the Dark

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 4139

Summary: The reader’s work as a decoy for one of Matt’s clients puts her in some hot water with her boyfriend- as well as a jealous ex-husband who has connections more dangerous than anyone could have imagined.

Notes: This one honestly came about when I was walking around my campus at night. I literally pictured Matt watching over me from the top of the Humanities building. Yes, I am doing fine, how are you?

Warnings: Violence, general peril (I just love making the reader get herself into trouble, don’t I?)

More Matt Murdock: HERE

You knew he was there. Your eyes scanned the rooftops of the buildings enclosing you. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel him. Standing. Watching. Waiting. You could practically hear his frustrated pacing, his furious objections.

“This is a bad idea. There are other ways. Safer ways. You don’t need to do this.”

All things he had said before tonight.

But this was about more than just playing decoy so a woman could be free of her abusive ex-husband.

This was about what that piece of shit could do for them.

You may not have been able to hear him, but you knew he could hear you. So, as you pulled Nancy Bartman’s door closed and your hood further over your face- careful to let your hair show- you muttered up at the figure hiding in the shadows.

“Back. Off.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored it.

Jogging at night in Hell’s Kitchen alone was a risk all on its own. Every alley you passed seemed to lurk with some unseen threat. Every shifting sound put you on edge.

God, you were turning into Matt.

You turned the corner to the street where Detective Morrow was waiting in a dark Sudan. If this didn’t work, everything could go back to square one. They had to catch this guy. You had to catch this guy. He knew something. Nancy wouldn’t say what, but you could tell she was holding something back. Bartman was the key. You could just feel it.

The Sudan crept forward, keeping far enough away to not look suspicious, but close enough to give you a crumb of comfort.

You could do this.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Says the one who misses date night to go after crime bosses.”

You couldn’t wait to see the look on Matt’s face when this was over. His mild annoyance of being wrong overshadowed by pride. Proud that his girlfriend had made a difference. That you had not only helped a woman in need but also got them one step closer to catching the bigger villain here. Fisk.

You could do this.

A hand pulled you into the alley.

“Did you think it would be this easy, Nance?” Corey Bartman hissed into your ear, pinning you against the brick. “Did you think you could just leave me like that?”

You lifted your head, letting your hood fall back. “You’re never going to hurt your wife again, Corey,” you spat.

The man’s eyes widened, then filled with rage. “Why you little bitch-”

You heard the flick of a switchblade.

“Corey Bartman, you’re under arrest!” Detective Morrow’s boomed.

Corey flipped you around, arm across your chest, and switchblade at your throat. Morrow raised her gun, as did the other cops.

No no no, you needed him alive.

“Drop the knife, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow ordered. “This is not how you want this to end.”

“Don’t be stupid, Corey,” you muttered, trying to swallow without cutting yourself. You lowered your voice to a whisper, your words meant for a different presence. You could feel him, looming from one of the above rooftops. If Corey went any further, he would reveal himself and that would be a whole other problem. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“What did you say to me?” Corey snapped, tugging you closer. The blade dug just enough into your neck to break skin. You winced.

Matt would smell the blood.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you said again, hoping he would listen.

“You can come back from this, Mr. Bartman,” Morrow said. She stepped closer, eyes meeting yours. “But not if you hurt her.”

You gave her a small nod, feeling the blood drip down your neck.

Bartman gripped you, his hot breath on your ear. “This isn’t over.”

He let you go.

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief, pushing yourself away from him as Morrow pushed him against the wall and cuffed him.

“You okay, Y/L/N?” She asked. “Theo, call a bus!”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. “Really. It’s just a scratch.”

She handed Morrow off to another officer to put him in the car. “Are you sure? That looks like it hurts.”

“Nothing a little whiskey won’t help,” you smirked.

“Yeah well, go get yourself a drink then.” She gave you a smile and put a hand on your shoulder. “You earned it.” She started to walk away, turning back. “I expect you bright and early at the station to give a statement though.”

You gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”

Morrow joined the rest of her team. You sagged back against the wall.

“I know you’re there,” you breathed out.

A gloved hand pulled you further into the alley, out of sight from the others. The hand lifted to your neck, just below your new wound.

“He hurt you,” Matt growled. His other hand held onto your arm, holding you to him. “Morrow shouldn’t have let it get that far. He could have…” Matt trailed off. What if Bartman had done worse? What if he didn’t have time to stop him?

“Hey,” you said softly, laying your own hand on his cheek, feeling the fabric of the mask under your fingers. “I’m okay.” You checked to make sure no one was coming, then brought his lips down to yours. When you pulled back again, you were smiling. “We got him.”

Matt couldn’t help but return your grin. “You got him.”

“I told you I would.” You poked his chest teasingly. “It was unwise to doubt me.”

“I never said I doubted you.”

“It was heavily implied,” you laughed, making yourself wince from the sting in your neck.

Matt’s expression softened under his mask. “Come on. We should get that cleaned.”

You didn’t argue this time, letting him lead you back home.

It had been a long night for both of you. By the time you got back to Matt’s apartment, exhaustion sagged in your shoulders and weighed in his steps. You breathed in the familiar air like you were drinking water in the desert. Matt’s hand found the small of your back, guiding you to the couch while he grabbed his first aid kit.

“Really, Matt, it’s just a scratch,” you insisted.

He didn’t listen, finding a cloth to dab at the now-drying blood on your neck. You winced a little, the alcohol stinging the open cut.

Neither of you said anything. The silence hurt more than the cut did.

“I know you’re upset,” you started softly. “But I told Nancy I would help to keep her safe. Now, she is.”

Matt stayed quiet, putting the kit away.

“Matt, please. I knew what I was doing.” You reached for him, fingers grazing his arm. “And I knew you were there, watching over me. I knew that I was safe.”

In one quick motion, Matt pulled you into his arms. It almost felt like he was shaking.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered into your hair. “Please.”

You sat, shocked for a second. Then, you wrapped your arms around him, running a soothing hand up his back.

“I’ll try my best,” you teased, pulling away to look into those perfect dark, unfocused eyes. “I’m okay, Matty.”

Matt’s hands cupped your face, gently bringing your lips to his as if to remind himself you were here. You weren’t hurt, not too badly anyway. He hadn’t lost you. You were here.

“I’m okay,” you said again against his lips.

Matt pulled you into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips.

“We should get some rest,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ve got a big day tomorrow thanks to you.”

You bit your lip to contain your giggling. “You’re welcome.”

Matt’s hand found the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair.

You leaned into his touch. “You’re right, though.” You pulled away from him, smirking. “We really should get some sleep.”

His head fell back against the couch, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. Matt listened as the zipper of your sweatshirt, the fabric brushing over your skin as you took it off, walking toward the bedroom.

“Are you coming or not?” You asked.

In a blink, Matt was on his feet and following.

Tangled limbs, sweat-stained sheets, and the memory of sighs filling the space enveloped you as you fell asleep. Matt kept his arms around you, as if afraid you’d run off and do something stupid. Not that sneaking out was ever an option with him. The problem with dating someone with enhanced senses. An overprotective someone who didn’t like it when you did your job because it occasionally put you in dangerous situations. Dangerous situations that you were perfectly capable of getting yourself out of.

These were the thoughts running through your head as you stared up at the ceiling, Matt’s head against your stomach, his arms draped around your waist.

Then, Bartman crept into your mind. And with him, came Fisk.

Fisk.

Bartman could have papers, maybe even whole files tying him to Fisk’s operation. But they would be at his apartment. The apartment that now lay empty with its inhabitant locked up. But Fisk would send someone… if he hadn’t already.

You sat up slowly, trying to keep from moving Matt’s arm too much.

If you could get to the apartment first, if you could find something, anything that could incriminate Fisk, you could wrap this up tonight. In and out under the cover of dark. Easy.

“Where are you going?”

You flinched. Maybe not so easy.

Matt sat up beside you, kissing your shoulder. “Hmm?”

“My apartment?” God, even if he didn’t hear your heartbeat, that was unconvincing. You started to stand, but Matt gently grabbed your arm.

“You want to go over there,” he said softly.

You sighed. “There’s a lot of information just ripe for the taking.”

“So breaking and entering, theft, and pissing off a guy who beats his tenants into leaving is your plan?”

“Well, I think we’re well past the pissing him off stage,” you said.

Matt frowned.

“All the more reason you need to stay here.” He moved closer to you, but you stood up. If he held you, you would let him. And you needed to work.

“I can’t just let this lie, Matt. He hurt people. Innocent families. And he did it all for Fisk.” You ran a hand through your hair, gathering and putting your clothes back on. “We have a chance to take them both down.”

Matt stood as well, putting his hands on your arms. “You’ve done enough. You helped them catch Bartman. Let the detective do the rest.”

You pushed him away. “You mean let you do the rest.” You crossed your arms, keeping just out of his reach. “You don’t get to lecture me about being safe when you go out there and do the exact same thing.”

“Because I know how to take care of myself, Y/N,” Matt fired back. “You go out there, unarmed and unprepared and you might as well be digging your own-”

“I am not helpless!” You screamed, cutting him off. “I don’t need protection, I don’t need to be coddled, and I don’t need you.”

As soon as you said the words, you felt them sink in, watching Matt’s face fall. He took a breath, squared back his shoulders, and his features hardened again.

“Fine,” he said, concerningly calm.

You were shaking from the raging mix of emotions inside you and it infuriated you to know that he could tell. He knew every tick, every clue to how you worked. And you knew so little about him.

“Fine,” you snapped. You turned, grabbing your keys.

“Y/N, wait-” Matt started, his voice tinged with worry.

But you were already gone.

The sun hadn’t yet risen and the streetlights gave the world a menacing, muted yellow glow. You walked with your arms crossed over your chest, hands tucked under your arms to ward off the cold, and your sweatshirt hood pulled up. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being followed and it made you shiver more than the early morning air.

“I swear to god, Matt,” you muttered to yourself, but, of course, there was no answer. You kept walking, head down and eyes searching. It wasn’t hard to find Bartman’s apartment again. You’d gone over it so many times with the detective that it felt like you’d been there a million times, even if you had never set foot inside.

You went down the list, pressing each buzzer until someone let you in. It surprised you a little. After everything Bartman had put his tenants through, you expected them to be a little more cautious of who they let in. Maybe they didn’t have the energy to care anymore. After all, if the evil comes from within, what outside could be worse?

Going up the stairs, that creeping sense that made your hair stand on edge never went away. It was like someone was following right behind you, breathing down your neck. This wasn’t Matt. That was for sure. When he followed you, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, you knew it was to keep you safe. It wasn’t overbearing or dark. As annoying as it was sometimes that he didn’t trust you could take care of yourself, you always felt warmth in his presence. Like nothing could happen to you.

This feeling wanted to hurt you. It wanted you scared. It wanted you to run.

You picked the lock to Bartman’s apartment quickly and slipped inside.

Everything was dark and the heater rattled and sputtered, doing little to warm up the frigid room. Many of the light fixtures lacked bulbs, probably to save on electricity. He was cheap with his building, so you weren’t entirely surprised to find he skimped on his own living situation. Besides, Fisk probably promised him a palace compared to this place.

You turned on the flashlight on your phone and swept over the various, disgusting surfaces. You didn’t want to know what most of the stains on the tables and counters and floors were. When Fisk found men to do his dirty work, they certainly were dirty.

Through the mess, you found what looked like it could have been a desk in another, cleaner life, and started going through the drawers. All you needed was something, anything that could connect Fisk’s companies and accounts to Bartman. Even if it was just a simple check, it could be enough for a warrant or at least an investigation into Fisk.

As you rummaged around, the door clicked open and shut behind you.

“I was hoping I’d get to see you again.”

Your shoulders tensed. Your hand slowly reached for the taser in your pocket.

“It was a clever trick, you know.” Bartman stepped toward you, flicking on one of the lamps that retained their bulb. “You look like her.” He took another step. “You’ve got that same bitchiness when you walk. Like you’re better than everyone. Better than me.” He ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “Still… you just happen to be my type, sweetheart.”

“Stay away from me, Mr. Bartman.”

“You pretended to be my wife, you can at least call me by my first name.” He held out his hand with a mocking grin. “Jerry Bartman. I would say it’s a pleasure, but it won’t be for you.”

You backed away, but your back hit the desk behind you.

There was nowhere to run.

Shit.

“Who made your bail, Mr. Bartman?” You asked pointedly.

He just chuckled, looming over you. “I’ve got friends in high places, little girl.” His eyes fell behind you to an envelope sticking out of the bottom drawer.

Bingo.

“Thank you,” you said, regaining a little of your confidence. “For being such an idiot.”

You jammed the taser into his side, listening to it crackle against his flesh. He yelped and stumbled backward, giving you enough time to grab the envelope and dart for the door.

His hand caught your ankle first, yanking you to the hard, uncarpeted floor. You landed on your right arm and felt something crack. Your scream was cut off by a kick to your stomach.

“You…. little… bitch…” Bartman gasped out, holding his side with one hand and pulling back for another hit with the other.

The door opened.

Bartman looked up.

The shot.

The blood.

The body landed on top of you with crushing force, knocking the scream out of your lungs.

As the tears cleared from your vision, you saw the man standing over you, dressed in black, with an indifferent expression painting his features. You scrambled to push Bartman’s lifeless form off of you.

“Shame,” he said. He sounded bored. Like your life was little more than a nuisance he had to deal with. “And you’ve been so helpful getting him out of our way.”

He raised his gun.

Not knowing what else to do, you ran towards him, ramming into his ribs with your shoulder and making your arm scream from the secondary impact. He grunted and the second gunshot echoed through the apartment, finding its mark in the lamp bulb, shattering the only light in the apartment.

You were plunged back into darkness, but so was your attacker.

Remember what Matt taught you. Feel the air move. Listen to the smallest sounds. And never, ever let your guard down.

A stumbling step signaled you to the man’s swing, allowing you to dive out of the way before his fist could collide with your already sore ribs.

“What the hell?” He hissed. He reloaded his gun.

You kept low and moved quickly, holding your throbbing arm against your torso. Judging by the thundering steps and the sound of him stumbling into things, Bartman’s killer was completely blinded by the dark.

You ducked into the hallway and found it almost as dark as the room before. Someone had shut off the lights to the whole building. The only light was the EXIT sign at the end of the hall, tinting everything in a deep, menacing red. You could hear Mr. Trigger Happy still coming after you, and debated between your two escapes; down the stairs to hide on one of the lower floors, or out onto the faster fire escape, but left you exposed.

You ran to the red sign.

A quiet scream escaped your throat, a hand grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the exit. Your mouth was covered by a hand before you could scream again. Your back hit something firm behind you and an arm locked across your chest, holding you tightly.

“It’s okay, it’s okay it’s me,” Matt whispered, his breath hot against the back of your neck, breathing heavily like he’d run here. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

You whipped around, his arms wrapping around you, caging you safely in his embrace.

“Matt,” you gasped, voice low so only he would hear. “They killed him. Fisk. He sent someone. He killed Bartman.” You shook in his hold, turning your head to try and look down the dark hallway. “There has to be more of them. We need to get out of here before they come.”

Matt gently pushed you back, one hand firmly on your shoulder, the other gentle, softly tracing down your cheek. He could feel your heart racing, your broken bone scraping against itself, your cracked ribs creaking with every scared breath. Every sound only amplified in his chest.

“Where is he?” He growled, feeling his anger bubbling over.

“He isn’t important,” you said, a small smile breaking through your panic. You held up the envelope. “I think I found something. Bartman didn’t want me to find this and, clearly, this creep didn’t either.”

Matt shook his head, the black fabric of his mask molding to his hard expression.

“Did Fisk’s man see you?”

You swallowed.

Your silence was enough.

Matt moved you behind the wall, concealing you in a dark corner, and started back toward Bartman’s apartment.

“Stay here,” he said.

“Like hell,” you snapped. Tucking the envelope into your back waistband, you hurried after him.

Matt turned, jaw tensed and tone dangerous. “Get out of here, Y/N. Go home.”

“What, so you can beat the shit out of some guy who shot at me?” You put your good hand on your hip. “I’m not going to hide. I want to finish this. Nancy Bartman deserves to stop being afraid. We all do.”

Matt pushed you behind him.

You grimaced, the spreading pain in your arm worsened by the sudden movement.

“Really?” The hitman scoffed. “If I had known you’d be joining the party, I would have been quicker with the lady.” He smirked at you. “Friends in low places, huh?”

“Fisk has you,” you glowered, stepping out from behind Matt, “I have him.”

“Two birds-” He aimed at Matt’s head. “One stone.”

Matt moved like a bullet, knocking the man back, twisting his arm to an unnatural angle, and kicking the gun across the floor all in one fluid series of actions.

You didn’t waste time, picking up the gun and turning it on its former owner. Matt kept him on the ground, knee between his shoulder blades. You pressed the barrel against his temple.

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked.

“You know, if you wanted to get me going, you didn’t have to bring your friend.”

Matt dug his knee down.

The man cried out.

“Why did you kill Bartman?” You asked again, already knowing the answer.

The assassin glared up at you, his eyes glowing in the red light. “Loose end. Just like you.”

“Why does Fisk want this building?”

“He made a deal.”

“So you do work for Fisk?” You pressed the metal harder against his skin, a small victorious rush coursing through you enough to ignore the screaming in your arm.

He jerked suddenly, lunging for you.

Matt slammed the man’s head against the carpet once… twice… The man stopped moving, though you could see his chest rise and fall faintly.

“Did you hear that?” You exclaimed. “Of course, you heard it.”

Matt didn’t say anything. He just grunted as he got the man up, pulling him back to the apartment and laying him beside Bartman’s dead body.

“Call the police. I’ll make sure they find him here.”

You did as he asked, saying that you were a neighbor and heard all the noise. He called Claire so she could be at the apartment to treat your arm. Then, you followed Matt up the roof where he could listen for the police to come. He didn’t say a word to you the entire time.

You could feel the anger tensed up in his shoulders and it wasn’t from the fight. This was a different anger, one that wasn’t violent or loud or could be worked out by hitting something. This was anger that came from one thing: fear.

“I didn’t think they would come after him tonight,” you said softly, “let alone pay his bail and send him home.”

Matt’s covered face stayed turned away from you.

You took off the mask. “Matt, please.” With a hand on his cheek, you made him face you, staring into his beautiful, unstarring eyes. There were tears in them.

“When I heard the second gunshot…” He whispered, voice cracking.

A shot of guilt splintered through your chest.

But you weren’t going to back down.

“I know you think you are the only one who can face all of this, but you aren’t,” you said gently, but firmly. “You aren’t alone, Matt. We have to be partners if this is ever going to work.”

Matt sighed. He listened to your heartbeat, reminding himself that it was still beating. You had made it through, even if he thought he’d been too late. You did that. He slowly brought your lips up to his, careful not to move your arm too much.

When you both eventually pulled back, a small smirk spread across his face.

“You know, when you were standing there, gun against that guy's head, even I was a little intimidated,” he chuckled.

“Right? I can be a badass when I want to be,” you snickered, laying your head on his shoulder. You turned so you could see his face, lightly kissing his jaw. “We make a pretty good team. Maybe you should let me go out with you…”

Matt laughed, the sound turning less amused. “Don’t push it.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you held your injured arm in your lap as he held you. The two of you sat and waited for the sirens and lights to break through the dark of the night.

Hey look, I remembered the tag list this time!

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascall; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216; @yellowbubblewrap

#matt murdock #charlie cox #matt murdock x reader #daredevil imagines #daredevil #marvel #daredevil born again #daredevil netflix

131 notes · View notes

universalitgirlsblog2 · 4 days

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🎀🍓⚞🎀・◦・⚟ YOU ARE NOT A VICTIM.🎀🍓⚞🎀・◦・⚟

🍓REALISE THAT LIFE IS A IMAGINATION.

You going to your job. Your job is your bosses imagination. He imagined a company that he wanted to create and then he put it into physical realm. So you are basically working towards your bosses imagination.

Countries are not real. We all collectively imagine a border but it's not real. It's all earth. Everything is earth but we imagine that those countries are separated.

Money is also imagination. It's just a piece of paper. We imagine that the amount of money in our bank is worth that much but it isn't. If tomorrow a big corporation says that the money in your account isn't worth that much or the money isn't in use anymore . It's not.

All this means that we all are living in a imagination. A dream . A game . Matrix. Whatver you want to call it.

We imagine everything we do. We imagine our future and dwell in our past which also doesn't exist. Future and past doesn't exist. Only this moment exists.

🎀REALISE THAT YOU ARE THE CREATOR OF YOUR IMAGINATION.

We can create this imagination or dream however we want it to be.

🍓QUESTIONS TO ASK YOURSELF

How do I want to create my game , my dream ?

How do I want my imagination to look like ?

Who do I allow into my imaginations ?

How do I behave ? Who am I? What does my character look like ?

🎀BEING A VICTIM MAKES YOU FEEL SAFE

Being a victim is the most comfortable thing because you don't have to do much. Your life is a circle. Everything just keeps moving in the same way , in the same circle. But this is comfortable for you. Why ? Because you know what is going in happen in the circle. You don't have to take risks. You don't have to deal with different people.

🍓CHANGING YOUR LIFE AND STOP BLAMING OTHERS

To take a leap of faith , you need to be brave. It takes guts. Everyone wants to blame everyone . At the end you will be left no one to blame but yourself. Your life is shit because of you. People don't care about your victim mentality. You know when they care ? When you get out of it. When your life becomes a success story. David Goggins is not David Goggins without his success. No one would care if he was the same guy before.

🎀YOUR LIFE WILL ONLY CHANGE IF YOU CHANGE

Everyone moves on and you will be left behind. NO ONE IS GOING TO SAVE YOU. WHY ? BECAUSE NO ONE CAN SAVE YOU. The only person that can save you is you. No one is going to make you change.

🍓GROWTH IS : 2 STEPS FORWARD AND 1 STEP BACK.

Everytime you learn something,it's one step forward because you have more knowledge but if you put it into practice, you will be 1 step back because you are not used to it. You still have to continue. If you feel uncomfortable and give up, you will be right back where you started. Stop abusing yourself by being in the same circle that you don't like. Stop abusing yourself by being the same person that you don't like. Look in the mirror , we don't have anyone to blame. As a victim it's easy to run away and be like " I tried I tried", You didn't try and you didn't try hard enough . Try again . Try again until you get there.

🎀REALISE THAT YOU ARE ADDICTED TO DRAMA.

Alot of people when they come out of abusive household , later they will think that it's too peaceful . They will start to attract people that will give them that toxicity again because this is the only thing they knew. Realize that you are the creator of that drama though. You can choose to have a peaceful life. You can choose to have peaceful people around . If you can't find peaceful people , just be peaceful on your own for a while until you find someone that makes you feel peaceful.

Stop creating drama when it was never meant for you. Stop involving yourself in things that were never meant for you. Stop watching things that are so dramatic.

🍓REALISE THAT YOU HAVE CONTROL.

You have control who comes into your life , you have control about who you date . You have control about what you watch , listen to , what you read. You have control over what you put in your mind. Your mind isn't a dustbin.

If you decide to open the news and it's all negative and now your day is bad. Don't blame the news. Blame your eyes and blame your hands for putting that on.

🎀ASK YOURSELF : WHY DO I ALLOW THESE PEOPLE IN ?

"My friend , partner is toxic". Why don't you start looking at why you allow them in ? Don't you have control over who I allow into my life? Why don't you ask yourself ? What is it in you that you don't feel worthy enough of having people that actually respect me ?

🍓WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO FIX YOUR LIFE ?

What part are you playing in life ? You can cry all day about being overweight or underweight . Are you doing something to fix that or are you just crying all day ? What are you doing to fix your life?

🎀WHEN YOU WANT SOMETHING BADLY YOU WILL FIND A WAY

When something wants something badly , they will get it done anyway.

🍓GO FROM COMPLAINING TO GRATITUDE

Turn your mindset around. Set your mind on a plan and focus on it . The more you start going from complaining to gratitude, the more your life will change. If you constantly focus on what isn't there instead of what it is , you create more of that.

🎀REALISE HOW PRIVILEGED YOU ARE

You are privileged and you want to talk about people in North Korea. They won't be able to see liz video or read this post since they don't have access to internet but you do.

🍓WE NEED THE GOOD AND BAD TO KEEP THE WORLD IN BALANCE.

This is how the world works.

🎀PAST AND FUTURE DONT EXIST

Accept your past and start working on yourself. It doesn't exist. You only have now. Don't dwell on the future. What are you doing now ? How you are now will determine your future and not the other way around.

🍓RECOGNISE THE WAYS YOU SABOTAGE YOURSELF.

Everytime something good comes into your life. Do you ruin it ? What in life are you doing that sabotages you ? You have to ask yourself these things.

🎀START TAKING RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR BEHAVIOUR

It's not fair what happened to you but whatver I do with it next , it's on you.

🍓TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF FIRST IS THE MOST SELFLESS ACT

If you don't take care of yourself , you can't show up as the best mother , daughter, employee or boss. You don't feel good . You are depleted and depressed. If you want to perform the best you want to be for others , then you should think about you first and nurturing you first so you are happy. If you don't feel good in your life , it's okay to take a step back from everyone and focus on nurturing you . Put yourself first . No is coming to take care of you.

🎀YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING YOU DESIRE

You deserve everything you want and you can get once you set your mind to it. Stop taking advice from people that you don't want to share lives with ,these people are miserable themselves.

🍓🎀 ⚞🎀・◦・⚟I LOVE LIZ SO MUCH. 🍓🎀 ⚞🎀・◦・⚟

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