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drudyslut · 1 month

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Pretty Blue Eyes — R.C

— summary: you see rafe at a party after he’d dumped you, and it hurts more than you thought it would.

— CW: 18+ only! angst, strong language, alcohol consumption, drunk!reader, hurt/no comfort.

— a/n: i’m so sorry. i love angst and when i’m sad, i have to make y’all sad too. this angst prompts list gave me ideas and i used dialogues 3, 14 and 20<3 likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

I never knew losing him would hurt so much. Losing the one person I’d spent the last six months of my life with.

Six months might not seem like much to some, I understand people have gone through greater losses. But I’d fallen in love with him. Fallen in love with all the meaningless words he’d said. Fallen in love with his scent, his touch, his pretty blue eyes.

But he never loved me. I was just a game. Something to use to pass the time. I boosted his ego, made him feel special. And all the while, he was using me. Playing me. Making me fall in love with him, just so he could break my heart. It was random, and very unexpected. Four words was all it took to shatter my heart into a million little pieces — “I never loved you.” is what he’d said.

To make matters worse? He’d told me this right after we’d had sex. I gave myself to him. My whole self. And he took. He took and took, but never gave. He took until there was nothing left for me to give. He owned my soul, my heart, my body. He owned me, but I never owned him.

That was three days ago. Three days of crying myself to sleep, three days of not eating and drinking myself to death. Three days since I’d seen his face. I’ve tried to avoid him, but I knew I’d see him again. We live on a small fucking island for Christs sake. And he’s everywhere. He’s very well known. There’s no escaping him. And tonight proves that. He’s here. His pretty blue eyes watching me from across the room. I wish I could show him I don’t care, that he didn’t rip my fucking heart out and stomp on it…

But I can’t. I still love him.

“Are you okay?”

My best friend, Ashlyn’s, voice pulls me from the darkness I’ve allowed myself to crawl into. I slowly turn to face her, light brown eyes filled with concern intensely stare back at me.

I put on my best fake smile. “Yeah. Fine, why?”

Lie. I’m not okay, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But I can’t admit that.

She frowns. “You’re not okay though, I can see it in your eyes. Do you wanna leave? We can lea-”

I quickly cut her off. “No, no. It’s fine. Let’s just go get another drink. I’m gonna need them if I’m going to last here all night.”

Her frown deepens, but she nods her head. I internally thank the Heavens that she dropped the subject. I don’t want to talk about Rafe and how he’d absolutely obliterated my heart.

She grabs my hand, lacing her fingers with mine before pulling me off to the kitchen, and out of the eyesight of the beautiful, blue eyed man I once had all to myself.

“I’m thinking shots of fireball. Shit will get you drunk so fast.”

I laugh. “The alcohol version of red hot gum, I’m down.”

Laughing at my lame attempt at a joke, she grips the neck of the bottle, grabbing two shot glasses next and filling them both to the rim. I quickly grab mine, tossing it back and swallowing the harsh amber liquid. A shiver wracks my body as the burning liquid makes its way down my throat.

I cough, placing my hand over my stomach. “Fuck, I forget how much that shit burns.”

Ashlyn chuckles. “Yeah. But that’s what makes it great. The burn of this can help erase the burn you feel from Rafe being a royal douche.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. She’s right. I prefer the burn of the liquor over the burn of Rafe and his heartbreaking words.

She quickly fills the shot glasses again, handing me mine and watching as I down the amber liquid once more.

I slam the shot glass back on the counter. “Another, please.”

She smiles widely. “Atta girl. You’ll forget about the smug bastard by the end of the night at this rate.”

***

Ashlyn was right. I was…. twenty shots in?? I don’t fucking know, I was drunk. And I wasn’t thinking about the pretty blue eyed man.

I’m about to take another shot when a voice I didn’t want to hear anytime soon has me dropping the glass on the floor, clear liquid spilling at my feet as the glass shatters — representing my heart because of him.

“Y/N… I think you should cut yourself off and go home.. I’ll take you.”

I snap my head in his direction, those damn pretty blue eyes staring down at me. Looking at me like I actually meant something to him. Lies. He doesn’t give a fuck. He just doesn’t want me embarrassing him tonight. Fuck him.

With shaky hands, I grab another glass from the counter, my eyes never leaving his. I reach out and find the tall, glass bottle of Tito’s, pouring myself another shot and then downing it with my eyes on his.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

He sighs, setting his beer bottle on the counter and placing his hands on my shoulders. His blue eyes search my face.

“Y/N. Please, go home. You’re drunk, and you’re hurting.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. Fuck him for trying to pretend he cares. He doesn’t give a shit about me. And I’m done caring about him.

“Stop acting like you give a fuck about me, Rafe. You dumped me. So it’s done. I just want to get drunk, and fucking forget I ever loved you.”

He glances behind me, his eyes taking in everyone that’s watching us. “Hey, can we please go talk outside?”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he grabs my hand, pulling me outside. I’m so drunk I can’t fight him off. He pulls me all the way down the stairs of the front porch and down the long driveway until we reach his truck.

He opens the passenger door, tossing me inside and slamming it shut behind him. My heavy eyes watch him round the front of the truck before he hops inside the driver seat. He pulls the keys out of his pocket, sticking them into the ignition and bringing the truck to life.

I cross my arms over my chest with a huff. “Where the fuck are you taking me, Rafe?”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye before placing them back on the road. “Home.” comes his clipped answer.

I lean my head against the window. Why does he do this? He left me. Why does he care if I’m drunk at a party or not? Why can’t he just leave me alone and let me heal?

The smell of leather and his cologne fills my nose. I feel the tears begin burning the backs of my eyes, and I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I lift my head, turning my head to the side to look at him. He still looks so good, and it hurts. He has one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel and the other lays lazily in his lap.

He has on a tight baby blue polo, and khakis with a backwards hat on. I want him to kiss me, and tell me everything will be okay. Tell me that he made a mistake and he does love me. But I know that won’t happen. He meant what he said, and there’s no getting him back, no matter how badly I want him back.

A few minutes later, he’s pulling into the driveway of my parents house. He puts the truck in park and hops out, rounding the truck to my side and opening the door for me.

He reaches his hand out, and I take it. My heart pulls in my chest at the feel of his touch again. I miss him.

He helps me out of the truck, and walks me to the front door. I turn and face him, wanting to get some things off my chest before he goes.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask softly, tears stinging at my eyes and threatening to spill.

He sighs, and the look in his eyes hold slight regret. “I can’t answer that… I just, I didn’t want to be with you anymore. And I’m sorry I hurt you in the process, but I couldn’t pretend to love you when I didn’t.”

The first tear falls, and I blink rapidly, swiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I still don’t understand what I did wrong..”

He places a hand on my shoulder, and I can’t stop the sob that is pulled from me.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N… I promise. I know this is so cliché, but it’s not you, it’s me. I just couldn’t commit.”

The tears are now flowing uncontrollably down my face and my body is shaking. I’m in pain. And he’s making it worse.

“I love you, Rafe. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry.. I just can’t. You need to stop loving me.”

I choke out a sob. “I don’t want to love you anymore. But I do.”

He sighs, letting his head fall and his eyes look to the ground.

This is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I’m not getting him back. I’ll never have Rafe Cameron in my life again. And that thought alone has me spiraling into a depression I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back from.

“Say something, Rafe.” I choke out.

His head lifts, and his eyes find mine again. He’s went from looking regretful, to angry in just seconds.

“What do you want me to say? I left you. And now you’re showing up to my friend’s house, getting fucking wasted and causing a scene. What the fuck do you want from me? I can’t fucking force myself to love you! I just fucking can’t! I’m sorry, but that’s the fucking truth. I never fucking loved you, Y/N. Let it the fuck go.”

Another harsh sob wracks my body as I come to terms with the fact that he truly never loved me. He never cared about me. He used me, and I let him. I grab my house key out of my small purse and stick it into the lock. I push open the front door, turning to face him before I walk inside, I say, “I could have lived without knowing you never meant anything you told me. You fucking broke me, Rafe. You ruined me. A once bright and happy fucking woman, and you’ve shattered me. I fucking hate you, and I hope you’re happy. Please, just leave me the fuck alone.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I slam the door in his face, quickly locking it and sliding my back down the door until my ass hits the floor. I bring my knees up to my chest, curling in on myself. I let out a loud scream, knowing my parents aren’t home tonight. Sobs wrack my entire body and I feel the physical pain in my chest from where he once lived. He fucking broke me, and I will never forgive him for that.

RAFE TAGLIST: @rafeism @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lorelai-lilith @lizcameron @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust @sylverdragon @ditzyzombiesblog @the-sylver-dragon @nattywatty @urfavpersonality @stupidbxnny @mattyskies @corpsebridenightamare

rafe cameron masterlist | taglist form

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron brainrot #obx angst #rafe angst #heartbreak #hurt/no comfort #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader

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th3casscad3 · 1 month

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Endless Love

Alastor Had Always Held A Sort Of Soft Spot For You. But It Wasnt Until Tonight That He Truly Expressed How You Made Him Feel.. Perhaps It Was The Rye Or Maybe It Was The Way The Red Sky Shone Down Upon Your Delicate Skin.. Warnings/Triggers: Fluff, Confessions, Soft Kisses, Ear Handling And Antler Holding. SFW Characters: 4,051 ______________________________________________________________

It Was A Regular Night At The Hotel. Everyone Was Gathered Around In The Main Lobby, Having Casual Discussion. Vaggie And Charlie Could Be Seen Cuddling On The Couch, Angel Was Flirting With Husker At The Bar. Sir Pentious Was Petting Keekee And Nifty.. Nifty Was God Knows Where. It Seemed Like A Peaceful Evening. You Made Your Way Up To The Rooftop, Passed The Radio Tower. You Had Glanced Over At Alastor Who Seemed To Be Going Over His Controls And Functions. You Decided Not To Bother Him While He Was In There. You Could Say You Had A Liking Towards Alastor, When You First Met Him Upon His Arrival At The Hotel He Seemed Like A Overly Ego'd, Cocky, Self Confident Man. But Upon Getting To Know Him Better, You Realized That He's Just A Man, Who Tends To Hide His Emotions Through A Smile. While Everyone Else Was Still Weary Of Him, You Opened Yourself Up To Him. Before You Knew It, You And Him Were Always Hanging Around One Another. He Would Let You Touch Him Without Consequence And Didn't Even Mind When You Called Him Nicknames. As You Made Your Way To The Top Of The Rooftop, You Sat Down At The Big Lettering "Hazbin Hotel," You Placed Yourself In Between The E And The L. Taking A View Of The City You Noticed The Extermination Clock. Despite You Knowing What It Meant You Couldn't Help But Admire Its Glow. It Was Absolutely Breathtaking. So Engulfed With The Shine Of The Clock You Hadn't Even Noticed Alastor Take A Seat Next To You. " Beautiful, Isn't It. The Way The Clock Tower Shines. Distracts You From The Meaning Behind It " Alastor Said With A Soft Hum. The Smell Of Rye Lingered In His Breath.

" Its Heartbreaking. All Of These Families, Lovers, Friends.. Never Knowing Whose Going To Die Next. " You Sighed As You Leaned Your Head Against His Shoulder. The Two Of You Sat In A Comfortable Silence, Simply Taking In The Sounds Of The City. Breaking Glass, Gun Shots, Yelling, Arguing, The Lovely Sounds Of Hell. Little Did You Know, Alastor's Eyes Were Locked On You. Maybe It Was The Way The Red Light From The Sky Kissed Your Delicate Skin. Or The Rye In His System But You Seemed More Beautiful Today Than You Always Do.. And You Always Shined Brighter Than Anything He's Ever Seen. He Felt The Desire To Grab A Hold Of Your Hand And Make You Face Him. A Softened Smile On His Face As His Eyes Gazed Into Your With Adoration. His Other Hand Caressing Your Cheek. You Felt Your Face Turn Red At His Sudden Contact But You Didn't Dare Move. You Didn't Want To Move. Instead You Placed A Gentle Smile Upon Your Face. You Noticed The Twitch In His Ears, Displaying His Small Antlers Atop His Head. "My Dear, I Know I Say This Often.. But You Look Simply Divine. Every Moment I Spend With You Makes Me Feel More A Man. A Man In Love.. I Know I'm Suppose To Be This Big Scary Demon With All This Power, But I Would Trade It All In To Be With You, My Dear." Alastor Leaned In Closer To You. You Could Feel His Hands Tremble And His Heartbeat Quicken. He Was Nervous. You Leaned In As Well, Your Noses Now Brushed Together And Your Breath Hitting One Another's Cheek. "Alastor, You May Not Hold y Soul. But You Do Hold My Heart, I Want To Spend The Rest Of My Afterlife With You. Until Death Kills Me Again. To Be Yours Is All That I Long For "* Before You Know It, Alastor's Lips Is Met With Yours. There Was A Surge Of Excitement That Traveled Through Your Body As Your Lips Danced With His In A Tender Kiss. A Kiss That Spoke Thousands Of Words And Held Deep Emotions. Your Hands Traveled To His Hair As Your Body Pressed Together With His. Your Fingers Softly Scratching His Ears And Receiving A Soft Purr From His Lips. After A Few Moments The Kiss Was Broken For The Need To Collect Air. Your Forehead Touched His As You Two Caught Your Breath, Your Hands Now Holding His. The Only Thing You Cared About In This Moment Was Alastor. Nothing Else Mattered As The Two Of You Shared This Moment And Embraced Each Other. " I Vow To Love And Protect You Until The Day I Die Again, My Sweet Darling... "

#hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fluff

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grapementos · 10 months

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night terrors

aged up bakugo x reader

cw: night terrors

bakugo doesn't sleep with more than one blanket or pillow. when he's persuaded into participating in halloween, he refuses to wear a full-face mask.

covid was a nightmare for him. he didn't go outside when he didn't have to, which meant plenty of grocery deliveries. masks triggered his anxiety to the fullest, but of course he wore it when he absolutely had to leave the house.

now, you had plenty of opinions and reservations about u.a. and the hero commission, most of them comprised of colorful language and a world full of screaming until you're red in the face.

they ruined not only bakugo, but so many other teenagers that thought they were doing the right thing. they thought they were training to become admirable role models, people who were going to be trained to use their unique gifts to save and protect people. they thought they were going to become heroes.

instead, all they got was ptsd and a handful of other mental illnesses that left them in therapy, on meds, or with debilitating night terrors.

bakugo unfortunately suffered from frequent night terrors. despite therapy and going on 3 years of being medicated for his anxiety, he still woke you up in the middle of the night with throat-ripping screams.

sometimes, you'd find him in the corner, screaming at you to get away, stop, leave him alone. it was heartbreaking.

some days you could gauge when he was going to have an episode. his hands were shakier, eyes unfocused, and his mind was just elsewhere.

today, he was exactly like that, only worse. you could tell his brain was all over the place, and you hated it. you hated how his brain turned against him and forced him to think the worst, most painful thoughts. it bound him to his worst memories, forcing him to relive his them over and over. his own brain.

you did everything you could to assuage the brain fog. you made him tea in the mornings, kept the house tidy, and tried to keep him from performing any heavy tasks. it was difficult, considering he didn't much fancy being helped or taken care of. when it was you, though, he let you.

after a particularly difficult day, the two of you settled into bed together, silent as you faced each other, gazing in silence.

"i'm scared." he whispered, finally breaking the silence.

just a look in his eyes was all it took for you to know it was true. he was terrified.

you placed your hand on his cheek, caressing your thumb over the skin, "i know. it's okay to be scared."

he shook his head, squeezing your hand. he squeezed his eyes shut, breaths quickening as he thought about the idea of sleeping. sleeping wasn't kind to him, and he knew it, because he never, never slept well.

"hey, hey, just breathe, okay?" you breathed deeply to set an example, one slow inhale preceding a lengthy exhale, "like that."

he followed your example, slowly relaxing his features, "yeah, yeah, okay."

"i know you're scared," you whispered, "but no matter what, i'm here. no matter what monster you see, no matter who's out to get you, you're going to open your eyes and it's gonna be me. it'll always be me."

he nodded, wordlessly, and scooted into your waiting arms.

you slept lightly since living with bakugo. that's what made it so easy for you to identify the earliest signs of his episode.

every shift in the bed, every ruffle of the sheets, you were stirring.

so when he sat up, you were half-awake. his steps fully woke you.

you shot up to a sitting position, watching carefully as he stood still for a moment.

"baby?" you whispered, scooting over to the edge of the bed.

no response. he walked over to the center of the room, going stiff.

"kats?"

just as you called out to him, he let out the most throat ripping scream you'd heard.

you jumped on the spot, blood going cold as the shriek reached your ears. your hands shook as you took your first step on the bed, careful to not get too near.

he faced you, eyes open but unseeing. they were glazed over, looking right through you with the most fear-filled eyes you'd ever seen. he was terrified, looking at you as if you had a knife in your hand and a slasher theme following you wherever you went.

"get away!" he screeched, staggering backwards, "get the fuck away!"

your heart shattered at his words, but you knew it wasn't about you. you sucked up your fear, your sadness, and took a deep breath to ground yourself.

"okay, okay. i'm sorry," you spoke calmly, sitting down on the floor cross-legged, "i didn't mean to scare you."

your voice still wavered, still shook with the fear you definitely felt.

he didn't seem to hear you, but your smaller presence seemed to make him feel less threatened.

he was grunting, groaning, crying. his stance was defensive, ready to defend. those hero instincts that he learned as a teenager, the need to protect himself because he was always, always in danger, never left.

that always scared you. the possibility of him activating his quirk and using it on you. but being hurt isn't what scared you--it was the guilt you know he'd feel. you were terrified of him leaving you because he thought he was a danger, or too much to handle. that couldn't be farther from the truth.

you just watched, at least five feet away from his shaking form. you wouldn't touch him, wouldn't yell or panic. you'd just watch, occasionally whispering some affirmations.

it took a while for him to calm down, to stop yelling and crying. about ten minutes later, his eyes went blank again and he walked himself back to the bed and laid down.

you followed him with your gaze and pushed yourself up with a soft sigh. after a moment of processing, you grabbed a water from the kitchen and set it on his nightstand.

you checked him once more to make sure he was comfortably asleep before taking your place next to him.

you watched his face, scanning it for any signs of discomfort or anxiety. nothing. as if it had never happened.

you kissed his forehead, "i'm so sorry, my love. i hope things won't always be like this."

ngl, i have so many opinions on all the trauma these poor kids have gone through, but i like to avoid discourse at all costs. also, i had to do some research on night terrors, so i hope i wasn't too far off.

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edandstede · 5 months

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racist fucks out here acting like ed is doomed to become abusive like his father, like he is a violent monster, as if his arc isn’t about learning that he isn’t a monster at all but just a man. how are you looking at ed accepting himself, overcoming feeling like he’s the literal kraken, that he’s loveable and worthy of compassion and kindness even when he thinks the worst of himself, and drawing the conclusion that he’s an irredeemable thug - which is, by the way, what every fucking villain and antagonist thinks of him. you’re aligning your view of him with the bad guys, y’know, the ones who call him a donkey, low-born, and try goading him into violence over and over again because they think that’s all he’s worth? and yeah that includes izzy, because he did that too, it’s 90% of what he fucking did, treating him like he only deserved to live if he was performing hyper masculinity the entire time and the second he stopped he was worse than dead.

we are supposed to feel sorry for ed. the way he feels is heartbreaking. he was abandoned, had his worst fears confirmed to him by stede leaving and izzy pressing on the wound in the worst possible way, and then he fell completely into depression and suicidal ideation. he thinks it’s all he’s good for. he can’t be loved, he hates himself, he’s just the dick who killed his dad and nobody wants him for him. how can you see this very obvious spelled-out agony in him and say “hey, that guy is gonna abuse the man he loves, he’s an abuser just like his dad” you guys are just absolute bottom of the barrel scumbag dickheads, you really really are. you could not be more blatantly racist. you know damn well the show is not saying what you’re claiming it is.

also, insisting that he would ever hurt stede is just completely ignoring every single fucking thing about him. ed would never. the only fucking time stede is physically hurt by ed is when he wakes up from literal death and headbutts him. that’s it. i think we can all agree he didn’t even know what planet he was on when that occurred, and he petulantly says “good it was supposed to hurt” during a squabble that ends with stede telling ed he loves everything about him. pull the other one if you think this was ever framed as ed seriously wanting to hurt stede and not an incredibly hurt and vulnerable man still acting on a half-dead brain.

like for fuck’s sake this is the same man who hides under stede’s robe and presses his head to stede’s hand when he cries after telling him - the only person he has EVER TOLD - about killing his dad. he tells stede about the plot to kill him, and he cannot do it. he can’t lift a finger to him, he never would. he holds stede’s face with both hands when he kisses him and tells him he loves him. he brings him breakfast with a bit of twine on ‘cause he panicked and thought it needed a flourish. he rubs stede’s cashmere against his cheek. the first thing he says makes his life worth living is warmth. he imagines stede with a big goofy sweet grin and gold sparkly goldfish tail coming to save his life. he just wants to retire and have his inn with the man he loves and not worry about stede ever being in a near-death situation again. he wants stede to be safe with him. at no point are we remotely told in the text that we should be genuinely worried ed will ever, ever physically hurt stede. he protects this man with his WHOLE BODY twice and signs an act of grace to avoid him being shot. he tries to get ned to leave him alone when they’re being tortured. he jumps off the boat with jack to swim back to him and he rows back to the republic to find stede too.

he loves stede, would never hurt him, and you’re all just fucking sour your fav died and you’re saying any old shite as a result. swear to god if i catch one more of you even so much as insinuating ed is abusive i’m gonna start lobbing off toes as well.

#i’m mad #so help me if the izzy apologists find this I’M going to become monstrous #quill to paper

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thebiggerbear · 3 months

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Follow Me Into the Dark Part 1 - Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The last person you expected shows up on one of the worst days of your life. Why on earth is Dean Winchester here and why is he asking you about your connections to the deceased?

A/N: Here we are. Part 1. This was what I originally intended for the "Sleep. I"ll keep you safe" prompt response but I ended up changing it because this felt too long to simply be a prompt response or even a one shot and I couldn't bear to cut it down to try to make it fit. It felt like the more it took form as I wrote, the more it deserved a proper fleshing out. So, alas, a short story. It's just an idea that I really had to explore. Not gonna lie, this might get a little dark. Hope this is alright.

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics,

This would be taking place during season 15.

All unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: implied familicide; implied deaths of children; angst; heartbreak; grief; language (I guess?)

Word Count: 4814

Series Masterlist

You sat in the pristine living room and stared at the coffee table as people milled around you. You could hear the hushed whispers of mourning for them, pity for you, and worst of all, judgment and condemnation of him. If you could, you’d throw each and every one of them out of this house right now. But it wouldn’t change the fact that they were gone. Every single one of them…gone.

You glanced up and caught sight of a framed picture of your niece holding onto her baby brother, smiling wide for the camera. You would never get to hold either of them again, chase Thea around the house and hear her squeals of laughter, tickle Tanner’s belly to hear those happy gurgles that only a baby could make — never again. A tear slipped from your eye that you quickly wiped away.

You were just about to get up and head into the kitchen to try to escape the harpy on your right, loudly whispering about how she’d always known something was off, when two tall men wearing suits entered your vision. Your eyes widened when you recognized one of them, and his expression mirrored your shocked one.

“Dean?” You asked in disbelief. You felt as if you had been sucker punched. Of course, on the absolute worst day of your life, he would show back up. The universe clearly had it in for you and wanted to destroy whatever little piece of you that was left. It had already brought you to your knees but that wasn’t enough. As if you weren’t already hollow inside…it wanted to finish the job.

The taller man to Dean’s left glanced back and forth between you. “Uh, do you two know each other?”

Dean looked at a loss for words for a moment but managed to answer with “You might say that.”

Seeing your face, Dean immediately looked apologetic. No, you couldn’t do this. Not today of all days. Not here, not now. “Right,” you muttered before making a hasty retreat to the kitchen as you’d planned to do prior to their arrival. You didn’t even bother looking back. Hopefully, Dean and his friend would just leave.

You busied yourself with doing the dishes; you figured you’d get a head start on them now. A kindly neighbor had offered to do them but you shook your head and took over, not saying a word. Thankfully, whoever had been in the room had vacated it, giving you your space. You were grateful because you weren’t sure if you could take one more “I’m so sorry, dear” or “Did you have any idea?” You threw yourself into the mundane chore, opting not to use the dishwasher next to you. You needed the distraction, to focus on something other than how you were broken inside. You did your best not to cry when you came across the coffee cup your sister-in-law had helped Thea to make for Father’s Day this year. It was similar to the “Best Aunt Ever” one they’d sent you for your birthday.

Several dishes later, you heard a quiet throat clearing behind you but you refused to turn around to look or stop what you were doing. You knew who it was; you’d practically felt him walk into the room.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m sorry if—”

“Why are you here?”

That question seemed to throw him off guard. Good. “I wanted to say I’m—”

“No,” You cut him off before he could finish saying the two words you now hated with a passion. God knows he’d said it enough to you before he’d left you in the dust back in Sedona. “Why are you here?”

“We— I mean, my brother and I, we were in town and—”

You spun around, your eyes wide. “That was Sam?”

He gave you a nervous yet proud smile. “Uh, yeah. That’s Sammy.”

After a moment, you nodded and went back to doing the dishes. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that Dean had moved closer, looking unsure and slightly fidgeting.

“So you… You knew the family?”

You stopped for a moment, thinking maybe you didn’t want to have this conversation that he seemed intent on having. You’d closed the book on him years ago and there was no reason to rehash any of it. It was the same old story anyway: girl meets boy; girl has incredible sex with boy; girl spends a few weeks holed up with boy; girl falls hard for boy and makes the mistake of telling him; boy immediately breaks her heart by telling her he doesn’t feel the same and then leaves girl behind to deal with the fallout of a shattered heart alone. Definitely nothing to rehash there. “You never answered my question. Why are you here?”

“Sam and I were in town and we just happened to see an article online about what happened.”

You huffed out a snort as you slipped another wet dish into the drying rack. “Article online about what happened…”

“I meant that we—”

The anger that had been simmering all day suddenly started coming to the surface as you replayed his words over and over in your head. “Is that what you and Sam do? Look around for funerals to crash and poke around because you and your brother have some morbid curiosity you need to satisfy? To set up your next true crime podcast or YouTube channel? What?”

“What? Podcast? No. That’s not what I—”

“You know what, Dean, I don’t even care. Just take your brother and get out. I have enough to deal with today without you screwing up my life yet again.” How dare he? He was definitely not the man you remembered. Or maybe he was; maybe he was the man who had used you and left you behind without once looking back.

He laid a gentle hand on your shoulder but that was it. “Y/N, I didn’t mean—”

You shirked his hand off. “Just go,” you yelled, feeling a sudden rush of fury charge through you. “That’s what you’re good at! Just leave, Dean, and don’t look back!” At the same time, the glass in your grip suddenly shattered, making you gasp as red rivulets began to run down your palm.

Dean was suddenly there with a dish towel, gently cradling your hand as he slowly pulled a small shard of glass out, making you hiss in pain. He then ran your hand under the water, eliciting another pained hiss, before wrapping the towel tightly around your hand. “There a first aid kit here somewhere?”

“In the bathroom, I think.”

Dean glanced over to where you gestured and nodded. “Alright, hold this tight and take a seat. I’ll be right back.” You did as he instructed, quietly thinking over what just happened. Dean was incredibly focused and on it, no hesitation, but that wasn’t what gave you pause. Where did that spike of anger come from? And more disturbingly, why did you have the strongest urge to throw that glass at him before it actually broke in your hand? You weren’t a violent person by any means; you never put your hands on another person, never had the urge to. Sure, you’d imagined slapping a guy that deserved it when he got too handsy while being an arrogant jerk one time but you never actually felt the burning impulse that you felt just before. You glanced over at the photo mug in the drying rack and tears sprang to your eyes as you felt your heart break yet again (how was there anything left to break at this point?) when you realized maybe you actually were that type of person after all. The very worst sort of person that had some darkness or bad inside them that was lying dormant waiting for the right victim to come along so you could unleash it on them.

You tried to shake the hopeless thoughts from your head. You knew that was your shock, grief, and misery speaking. Instead, you changed the lens to a logical one and began to explain away what had happened. Perhaps it had been Dean’s words or his very appearance. Or it could be what had happened and why you were here today. Or maybe it was even a combination of everything. The glass you had broken hadn’t been light, sure, but perhaps there had been a crack in it before that you hadn’t noticed. And it absolutely made sense that you were lashing out at Dean. He had shown up out of nowhere and began asking questions because of an article he’d read online, not even one of them being a simple ‘how are you?’. He hadn’t seen you in years and while he might not have known exactly who you were in relation to this situation, you were here for a funeral and you were washing dishes, everyone was trying to give you their condolences and watching you with pity — didn’t that account for something in his mind?

You didn’t have much more time to think on it when Dean suddenly reappeared with the first aid kit in hand. He laid it down on the table in front of you and slipped his jacket off, throwing it over the back of an empty chair. He quickly rolled up his shirt sleeves and took the seat next to you, gently taking your hand and carefully unfurling your fingers. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

You watched as he studied the slice in your palm. “Not too deep,” he approved. He then began checking your skin for any other glass fragments or cuts. When he determined you were good, he began to soak a cotton ball with peroxide before turning a wide smile on you. “Did you hear the one about the priest and the cop?”

Your brows furrowed. He was now trying to make jokes? Seriously? Not to mention, no, you’d never heard of that one nor did you want to. “The priest and the—” You let out a loud hiss and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Fuck,” you painfully whispered.

You moved your gaze from the cotton ball being dabbed against your broken skin to Dean who was watching you intently. He gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s fine,” you forced out as he continued to clean you up.

“So you didn’t tell me how you knew the family.” It was obvious he was trying to distract you from the painful stings of the ointment he was using but it also set your teeth on edge that he was still trying to get answers out of you that he wasn’t entitled to.

When you didn’t respond, he glanced up at you expectantly.

Fine. Whatever. Let him judge along with all the others. I don’t care. It’s not like he matters to me anymore. “He was my brother,” you whispered.

Sure enough, his green eyes opened wide in surprise. “He was your brother?”

You gave a reluctant nod, choosing to glance around the room rather than look at him.

“So the kids, they were…”

Your vision blurred slightly and you were unable to speak due to the lump that had been in your throat all day, making it hard to swallow. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying. You were resolved that you would not cry in front of anyone today, and you definitely would not cry in front of Dean Winchester. He’d seen enough of your tears back in Arizona.

You felt the movements on your hand cease altogether and you turned back to see the pity you’d been getting all day staring back at you. You hated it. “I’m so sorry.”

You nodded as if on autopilot and dropped your gaze back to your hand, waiting for him to finish so you could get out of here, away from him, away from the pity and the judgment that was sure to follow. He resumed the bandaging a moment later and you both spent the rest of the time in silence.

His brother’s appearance broke it. “Everything okay in here?”

Dean glanced up at you before looking at Sam. “Uh, yeah. Just a little accident but she’s good as new.” You saw him wince slightly at the words though he tried to hide it. That ticked your irritation a little higher though you had no idea why.

“May I?” Sam asked you, pulling out one of the empty chairs. At your subtle nod, he took a seat. You knew you should introduce yourself, finally officially meet the younger brother you’d heard so much about years ago, but you didn’t have it in you. You also weren’t surprised when Dean didn’t move to introduce you or that it was painfully obvious that he had never told Sam about you which just made you feel worse. It didn’t hurt, not in the way it would have back then, but it was like someone scratched a nail lightly along a long healed scar you had which would make you flinch slightly, hoping the nail would go away and forever leave the injury site untouched. Like a crater in the earth from a small asteroid; best to just leave it be and let nature take its course.

You flexed your hand as Dean put the dressings back into the kit.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sam offered.

Feeling that autopilot mode come back into play, you mumbled, “Thank you.”

“I can’t imagine how tough this has been on you and your family.” You nearly snorted; what family? Perhaps they hadn’t noticed but you were it. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about Scott and Leah.”

You briefly closed your eyes in pain at hearing their names, but not before you saw Dean’s head snap up to give Sam a look. “Not now.” He spoke in a tone that brooked no argument.

Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion and he tilted his head questioningly, but remained silent.

You decided you’d had more than enough and you slowly got to your feet. Dean stood up as well, his hands reaching out to you as if to steady you, hanging in the air and unsure. You simply stared at him until he lowered his arms and compulsively swallowed. You spared a glance over at Sam and then turned to leave.

“Y/N.”

You stopped in your tracks but didn’t turn around.

“Is there anything we can do? Anything you need?” Dean softly asked.

Anything they could do…anything you needed… You needed your family back, you needed to turn back the hands of time and get here sooner when Leah had called you out of the blue last week and begged you to come talk to Scott, saying he wasn’t acting like himself and she was worried. But since that didn’t appear to be an option, you simply shook your head and quietly answered, “Thank you for coming.” You then continued your trek out of the room, past the people who continued to offer you empty condolences or mutter statements like “They seemed like such a happy family”, and headed up the stairs, not caring in the least that you had a house full of people expecting you to be present so they could offer meaningless sympathies to someone. You ran to the bathroom and shut yourself inside it, sinking down behind the door and burying your face into your arms, hiding until everyone left and you could be alone again. You may have let out a few tears, a few quiet sobs, but no one would ever know.

…

“Dean, we can’t just leave her,” Sam tried to reason with his brother as they passed the crowd slowly making their way out of the home and headed towards the Impala. “We don’t even know what we’re dealing with yet.”

Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket, opening the back door of Baby to toss his jacket into. After you’d gone upstairs, he’d finished the dishes so you wouldn’t have to. He wouldn’t admit it to Sam but seeing the glass sticking out of your skin, you bleeding — it bothered him tremendously. It might have been a simple cut that had been easily patched up but it was you. It didn’t sit right with him just like this whole case hadn’t from the get go.

He certainly hadn’t been expecting to see you after all of this time, while he was on a case of all things. He had hoped you were off living your life somewhere, happy as could be, in love, maybe have a kid or two — whatever you’d wanted. He had wanted you to have a normal life, a life untainted by the things that go bump in the night, something he would never get to experience himself. That was why he’d done the impossible and left you back in Sedona all those years ago. Granted, he’d been young and untethered and idiotic but those weeks he spent with you, those he would never forget. You were gorgeous, funny as hell, great in bed, you had a killer smile, and oh did you have one hell of a kind heart. You were a good girl with a wild streak who for some reason picked him though you could have had any number of guys knocking at your door. How could he not have fallen head over heels for you? And when you told him you loved him, being the first to say it between you, he’d felt something he never had before. When he was sixteen, he thought he knew what love was but boy had he been wrong.

Dean had wanted to stay with you back then, to hunker down and see where things went between you. After all, what would it hurt to put down roots for a little bit and not have to travel from motel room to motel room? To not have to sleep in the Impala for once? Besides, if Sam got to go to college and live his life, why couldn’t Dean do the same for a little while? It’s not like he would be quitting hunting or abandoning his dad to it alone, so why not? He may have only been 23 but he wanted to experience something he had always dreamed about but was told he would never have, and he wanted to experience it with you. Hell, you didn’t even need to stay in Sedona; you could settle down in Phoenix or Mesa or Tucson — or even travel to a different state. As long as he had you, he didn’t care where the two of you settled.

But of course, that had only been a dream, a momentary fantasy that felt real enough to almost touch before it was snatched out of his reach. John had called and demanded that he haul ass to Las Cruces to help him on a werewolf hunt, reminding him that he had an obligation to the family. Especially now that they were one man down thanks to Sammy’s big college adventure. Dean had tried to tell his father about you and the plan you both came up with, he really did, but John wouldn’t hear of it. The older man insisted it was infatuation, not the real thing, that he was too young to think about settling down, not to mention he was a hunter. And his dad scoffed when Dean mentioned that the way he felt about you reminded him of the stories John used to tell him and Sam about their parents meeting when they were young. He even proudly mentioned that you knew the words to every one of his favorite Led Zeppelin songs; he’d checked. He just knew John would love you if he’d be willing to meet you.

John then hit him with the truth that Dean had kept buried deep down and refused to acknowledge. If he stayed with you, you would never be safe. Even if he left hunting to be with you, you’d forever have a target on your back from every nasty evil thing he’d ever hunted. Just look at what happened to his Mary after she’d left hunting for a normal life. It followed her right up to Sammy’s nursery that night back in 1983 and killed her in front of his eyes. Dean’s own eyes had misted up as John’s words registered and from the silence, John knew he had been heard.

“Do what you have to do, son. I’ll see you in the morning.” The line clicked and Dean stared at the phone, a tear slipping down his cheek.

Needless to say, Dean had broken it off with you that very day, determined to ignore your tears and heartbroken pleas, knowing he was doing the right thing by you. He said what he knew you needed to hear, though it cut him up inside to say it.

“I love you, Dean. Please,” you’d tearfully begged him. “Don’t leave.”

“I have to. I didn’t realize this was getting serious. I mean, we holed up together for a few weeks, we had some great sex, we had some laughs, some drinks, and a good time together, but that’s all it was ever going to be. You had to know that going into this, when you took me home from the bar that night. I’m pretty sure I even told you that I was only looking for a fun time while I was waiting for my next job. No strings attached because I’m just rolling through, remember?”

As he watched the heartbreak play upon your face, he cowardly looked away as he rolled up his spare pairs of jeans and threw them into his duffel. If he looked at you, you’d see just how much you meant to him and just how much this was hurting him to have to do this to both of you.

“I’m 23 for Christ’s sake. I’m not looking to settle down, move in with a girlfriend, or get married and start cranking out kids. I want to live my life before I even start thinking about any of that crap.”

“But you said that you wanted to find a place together. You said you wanted to be with me. You said—” You whispered brokenly.

Dean’s jaw hardened and he turned away from you under the guise of grabbing his t-shirts and Henleys from the dresser drawer, shutting his eyes tightly. “It was just all talk. You know, us talking about what we’d do if our lives were different, what we’d want, like in a fantasy future. That kind of thing. I never actually meant any of it.” He heard the tiny gasp behind him and his fingers clenched around the material in his hands. Just get it done already. You’ve got work to do. The thought had been in John’s voice but Dean knew the thought was his own. He had to do this. He didn’t want to hurt you but he didn’t have any other choice. He couldn’t tell you why he had to leave and why he had to go without you. He couldn’t tell you that he was breaking your heart to keep you safe. He couldn’t admit that he was breaking his own so you could go and live a normal life, something he would never get to experience himself, so you could be happy after you forgot about him and dismissed him as a fun and wild lay that one time when you were young. That thought cut deeply into his chest and his resolve strengthened. No more drawing this out. You needed to let him go and move on; it was the only way to keep what he hunted in the shadows from ever touching you.

“I didn’t think you did, either,” he forced out. Though he heard the beginning of a sob behind him in response, he made himself open his eyes and turned around to pack the rest of his stuff. He never allowed himself to look over at you to see the pain he’d inflicted on you; he heard it well enough.

Even when he threw his bags in the backseat of Baby and slammed the door shut, he refused to meet your wet gaze. He kept his hands glued to his sides, clenched in fists, because they itched to pull you into his arms for one last hug, for one last kiss to your head, but he wouldn’t allow himself to. He didn’t deserve it. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Without waiting for your response, he got into the Impala and started her up, revving the engine before pulling away from you for good.

He would never forget the devastated look on your face in his side view mirror as he drove away from you, how you’d hugged yourself and brokenly turned to go back into the motel room the two of you had shared. It wasn’t any consolation but he was glad he’d handled the bill earlier and he’d even charged another week to one of the cards he had so this way you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. You could take a little time to figure out where to go from there. Sure, if his dad knew, he’d tear him a new one, but he never intended on telling John or anyone about you. You’d be better protected that way. No demon or witch could mine that information. And since he himself didn’t know where you’d go, they wouldn’t be able to get it out of him either. Not to mention, he told himself over and over that he didn’t love you until he began to believe it. That you two wouldn’t have worked out and you had just about run your course before John had called him. Who was to say that you two would have even been able to settle on an apartment or house to move into together? You barely knew each other. Plus, you were both young and you would change as you got older, as people do, and your dreams, desires, and needs would change. Either hunting would have taken a toll on the relationship or you would have grown apart. So, though it had been harsh, he had actually done you both a favor. He spared you both heartache later on by causing you a little at that moment. Dean was very good about compartmentalizing things when it suited him. You were safe and that was all that mattered. So yes, he made himself forget about you and how he felt about you, and he didn’t look back. That look of yours, though, that destroyed and heartbroken look…it had haunted him for months. But he told himself that if that was the price of protecting you, he’d gladly pay it. With enough alcohol, hunts, and faceless women, the memory of the look all but faded into the distance of the past.

Eventually, time passed and then of course, Cassie had come along. He’d learned from what had happened with you and he’d been up front with Cassie about who he really was and that didn’t end well. Not to mention his time with Lisa and Ben. But over this period of time, he had also finally convinced himself that you had probably gotten over him and found somebody else who could give you the life he never could, the life you deserved. He wanted that for you and yet it seemed that no matter how hard he’d tried to give it to you in his own way all those years ago, the supernatural and all the pain and devastation it brought seemed to have found you anyway.

“We’re not leaving her,” Dean assured his brother after breaking himself out of his reverie. Ignoring Sam’s confused expression at Dean opening the driver side door, he glanced up towards the upper level of the house, knowing you were hiding away somewhere beyond those walls. An elderly neighbor had assured him that she and her husband would stay in the home for the next hour or so in case you needed anything.

He slipped into the driver seat, followed by Sam getting in on the passenger side, and started Baby up. He put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, intent on getting to the motel to change and ready himself for the conversation he knew he needed to have with you now. Truthfully, it was a conversation he should have had with you a long time ago. It was time to give you the talk. He’d left you alone back in that motel room all of those years ago; he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

Series taglist: @globetrotter28; @roseblue373

Dean taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions

SPN taglist: @just-levyy

Tag List Form

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x female reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #follow me into the dark #dean winchester fanfiction

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desiderio-dixon · 17 days

Text

Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter 7 : I'd Rather Go Blind

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader (endgame), (unrequited) Glenn Rhee x f!reader

Series summary : When Glenn Rhee comes into your life, you become convinced he's a guardian angel sent by your late best friend. You think he's your soulmate. But then he falls for the farmer's daughter, and you find that your own angel may be a little more blatant than expected; wings and all.

Chapter summary : Leaving the CDC in the rearview mirror, the group faces further obstacles: A misunderstanding arises between the reader and Daryl, Sophia goes missing, tensions build between reader and Shane, Carl gets shot, and Glenn begins the heartbreak saga.

Chapter warnings : uhhh jealousy, heartbreak, misunderstandings, illusions to sex, shane being a creep, sophia goes missing, grief, lmk if I missed anything! <33

Word count : 2.8k

A/N : OKAY SO THIS ONE TOOK FOREVERRR I'm so sorry!! To be fair though, something super serious happened to a family member of mine so my life has just been absolute chaos the last couple weeks. BUT TRUST ME THAT I DIDNT ABANDON THIS FIC!!! Love u guys! (also there may or may not be a Dean spicy fic on the way to all those who voted yes to that poll I made hehe)

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

The next morning, you woke to a knock on your door. Groggy and hungover, you wrapped your naked body in blankets and stumbled to the door. You opened it to find Glenn, his head hung low and eyes sunken. He was equally, perhaps more, hungover. He made no effort to greet you, just groaned at you and pushed past into your room. He flopped himself down on your bed, face in the pillows. You sighed, leaving the door open and moving to sit on the bed, still only in a puddle of blankets.

"My head is gonna explode." Glenn cries out. You hum tiredly. Outside of the room you can hear everyone waking, wandering out of their rooms. Part of you wants to kick Glenn out and fall back into sleep. But you don't. You two sit quietly for a few minutes, you're certain Glenn has fallen asleep.

And then, there's a crinkle in your doorway. You look over, surprised to see Daryl. He stands, fully dressed and ready for the day, with a waterbottle clutched in his hand. He'd brought it for you, you knew that somehow. But you watched his gaze rake over your bare shoulders, and the onto the figure laid in your bed. He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. For some reason you feel like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't. He crouches down, setting the waterbottle in your doorway. And then he's turning, leaving.

The CDC is a blur after that. A blur of confusion, panic, anger. Screams and explosions. And an overwhelming loss. Jacqui died, Jenner and the sanctuary you thought you'd found went with her.

You'd never seen something explode like that. What was once there, simply wasn't anymore. No longer an impressive and futuristic building, but a mess of fire and ash. It shook everything. The ground, the air, even your insides felt like they were vibrating within you.

You weren't even sure whose car you'd piled into, simply just eager for cover, but you'd realized too late that it was Daryl's truck, and this was going to be an awkward ride. Though, neither of you said a word. Not about the drunken conversation you'd shared, or him seemingly finding you and Glenn in bed together. There's an air of shock that only silence seems appropriate for. Still, when the caravan stops due to the RV hose again, you break it. Digging into your back pocket, you produce the crumpled pack of cigarettes. "Here, I, uh, found them. Figured you'd like them." Daryl grunts, slapping his hand over yours to grab the pack. Nothing else is said, so you both climb out.

The traffic build up seems to go on forever, cars for as long as you can see. Everyone drifts off into groups to scavenge through the cars. You end up by yourself, sorting through a mini van. The sight of the empty toddler car seat brings a sense of dread washing over your body. You try to shake it off. Surely there's a chance the baby lived, just moved on to another place.

You find a box on the floor, overflowing with clothes. Winter will come quicker than you think, so you begin to rifle through, looking for anything thick and comfortable. Instead, you find a pretty dress. A sundress, with wildflowers printed all over and a dipped neckline. You're not sure that it's something you'd have worn before, but something calls you to it. It's exactly your size. Something tells you to take it, even if it's not exactly practical. So you shove it into your bag.

Then you hear Glenn's laugh, an excited and relieved laugh. You decide you need a little joy in your life, so you seek him out. There, you find him and Shane, drenching themselves with water off a truck. "You guys not gonna share?" You tease. Glenn ushers you forward to stand under a spout, then he releases the cap. You squeal at the sensation, water soaking through your clothes. Your eyes are closed, enjoying the cooling sensation when a hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you to the floor.

You smell them first, the horde of dead stumbling through the traffic jam. You roll under the truck with Glenn and Shane, making panicked eye contact with each of them back and forth. Then you hear them, groaning and shuffling. And finally, you see their feet as they move past. Most of their shoes are muddied and falling apart, ankle skin falling off the bone like good barbecue. When it's finally passed, your heart shatters.

Where you expected silence, you found the cries of a distressed mother. Carol, screaming after Sophia. You crawl out just in time to watch Rick run after her, Lori holding a sobbing Carol.

You want to pull her into a hug, hold her sorrow in your hands to take it off her shoulders. But you're soaking wet, and you're sure she doesn't need a cold on top of everything. You settle instead for a hand on her shoulder, telling her a gentle, "Rick will bring her back." You're not sure you believe it. You have faith in Rick, though you're not sure about Sophia. She's a smart girl, sweet like sugar, and you adore her. It's just that a scared adult is unpredictable, let alone a scared child. Still, you want to hope.

It's only a few minutes, maybe ten. Rick emerges from the forest and you wait with bated breath for Sophia to trail after him--but she doesn't. Carol's sob sends a lightning bolt right through your heart.

Rick gathers a few people up to go look for her: Glenn, Shane and Daryl. While they gather up their things, you stand with Glenn. You feel eyes on you, heavy in their gaze. Turning, you find who'd been staring at you. Shane. He meets your eyes, and something about it turns your stomach. His eyes are dark, and he doesn't look away. You break the eye contact yourself, looking to your shoes.

"You okay?" Glenn asks. You hum, nodding your head. But truthfully, you can't shake the feeling of unease that has washed over you.

Then, just as everyone is geared up to leave, Daryl trots up to you. He tosses something at you. You catch it, unfolding it to reveal a flannel shirt. "Cover up a bit, huh?" He says, looking at you before his eyes flick to Shane. For a moment, you're confused. Then, you look down to your shirt--your soaked, white shirt that has now turned see-through. Your ears burn with a sudden rush of blood, and you hurry to throw on the flannel he gave you. It has the sleeves cut off, because of course it does. It looks ridiculous on you, you're sure, but it works well enough.

You stand, dumbfounded for a bit while the group pushes forward. Another one of Carol's sobs throws you out of your daze.

She stands, hands covering her mouth as sobs pour openly out of it, leaning against Lori. Lori has tears of her own streaming her cheeks, but she stares coldly ahead at the treeline her husband disappeared into. Although the sight of them squeezes your chest, it's the sight behind them that hammers the final nail into your heart.

Carl, a few feet behind his mother, looking sorrowful with tears of his own silently falling, but a determination in his eyes unlike any you'd seen. You walk to him, grazing your hand over Carol's arm gently as you pass. When you reach Carl, you pull him into a hug. His arms wrap weakly around you as you crouch, and he lets out a sob into your chest. "They'll find her. And if they don't--me and you will." You whisper to him, squeezing him tight.

It's not long before Shane and Glenn return. Glenn looks solemn, which quickly gives away that their leads aren't solid. Shane barks orders immediately upon return to search and move cars. You rifle through more cars, coming up mostly empty time after time. After an hour, you produced three items. A leather jacket, thick; good for winter and to stop bites. A box of granola bars, unfortunately your least favorite flavor. And an unopened limited edition Barbie.

The Barbie came from a car with no sign of children, and given how old it is, you assume it's someone's antique. You feel better taking it, given you don't think you're stealing from a dead child. It'll be nice for Sophia, you think. It's the exact thing you'd have loved as a girl. Big, poofy white dress with black polka dots and heaps of frill. A classic red lip and a pair of cute little heels. She's absolutely fabulous. You tuck her carefully into your bag, making sure to not dent the box.

As you weave through the cars to find your next hidden treasure, you spy Lori and Shane. The tension is thick in the air as they whisper-yell back and forth to each other. It's not hard to piece together the contents, despite you not being able to hear them. Surely it's about what once was between them, and what never can be now with Rick's return. Still, the sight sends bolts of unease through your spine. Especially with the way Shane slams his fist against a cars hood, fire burning behind his dark eyes.

You enter some beat down sedan, crawling into the drivers seat and letting your head drop down to the steering wheel. 'Please let Rick and Daryl come back safe with Sophia.' You think to yourself. You're beyond anxious, chest feeling as though a pile of rocks sit in your lungs. Moving on from this stupid highway with your group intact would be the greatest gift.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

It's almost dark now, though the humidity still weighs down the air, thick and heavy. A thin sheen of sweat collects over your skin as you sit and wait. "Oh, God. They're back." Glenn says. Your heart leaps to your throat. Rick comes first, then Daryl, then... Nothing. No Sophia. Just as quick as your heart rose, it sank to your feet like an anvil.

"You didn't find her?" Carol squeaks, sounding small like a scared child.

Rick shakes his head, guilt written in the way his lips draw tight and his eyes drop to the floor. "Her trail went cold. We'll pick it up again at first light." You knew they didn't find her, but even so, the confirmation feels like a hammer bashing into your heart.

"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own to spend the night alone in the woods." Carol cries desperately.

Daryl glances to you, then the floor. Shaking his head, he responds. "Out in the dark's no good. We'd just be trippin' over ourselves. More people get lost." You know he's right. He's smart with these things, a natural. But you also know hearing this hurts Carol. Truthfully, it hurts you too. A part of you wants to stray from the group right now, tear the forrest apart until your hands are bloodied to find Sophia and bring her home to her mother.

But Daryl's right--so you stay.

The next morning is early, sun barely up. Dew slides over the morning grass, tickling your ankles as you all trudge through the forest. The air is damp and crickets chirp around you. It reminds you of early wakings during your school days as a child. Up before the sun so you could drown your stomach with sugary cereal before the bus called your name. It's nostalgic in such a bitter way. Sophia will never get that again, whether you find her or not.

The only two that hadn't come on the search were Dale and T-dog. Dale, to fix up the RV, and T-dog to rest. He'd landed himself a nasty gash on his arm during the herds passing. You're thankful Daryl was there.

Everyone else in the group, even including little Carl were gathered around you. Daryl, Shane, and Rick mainly led the charge-- but everyone was equal in effort of looking for signs. You'd lost count already how many times you'd crouched to inspect the dirt, trying your hardest to search for small shoeprints.

The search had been null, up until you found a campsite. Carol had called out, and you all held your breath in anticipation. When nothing came, Daryl investigated. Nothing but a man who'd been dead for a long while.

Now, you stare at Daryl. He's disappointed, maybe even frustrated. You guess he must feel pressure, feel that it's on him to do the tracking and finding. Your feet seem to move on their own, stalking towards him on shaky feet. He doesn't notice you coming, doesn't look up from his boots. But still, you reach a hand out, just mere moments away from touching his bare bicep--until the bells ring.

You freeze, catching Daryl's eyes immediately as he shoots up. And then, as if reality had snapped back into motion, you all run.

The church is a grim scene, the pews loaded with rotting corpses, staring lifelessly at the cross. When you swing the doors, they groan, turning and shuffling loudly across the wooden floors. The smell is overpowering. The air is thick with rot, moist and sickening.

It's fitting. Fitting to the soulless feeling of tearing through walker after walker, only to at the end be met with nothing but a pile of corpses; no Sophia in sight. Carol prays in front of the statue of Jesus, and you can't judge her for turning to faith in a time like this, but something about it turns your stomach.

How could a God allow a mother to be without her child? Suddenly, the air in the church feels like it's no longer air at all. You feel suffocated. You rush out, hand covering your mouth as a nauseous feeling rises. Falling to your knees in the grass, you huff breath after breath of fresh air. When will the constant loss end?

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

It's only a couple hours later when you're trudging through the forest, chatting with Glenn absentmindedly as Daryl leads your group back to the highway. And then, like a flash of lightning, a woman appears. The heavy thudding of her horse's hooves matches the rapid beating of your heart, and then she's yelling. Yelling that Carl has been shot. Then, you feel as if your heart stops at the same time the horse skids to a halt. He's stable, she says, but it's still a weight you're not sure you can handle.

You want to cry, to collapse, to give up. You want to curl into someone and share in your sorrow. When you turn to Glenn, your stomach swirls in sickness at his expression. Well, perhaps not the expression alone, but that the expression isn't being sent to you.

There, frozen in place, he stands. Awestruck eyes gazing up at the woman on the horse, jaw open. Your eyes fly between the two of them, time moving in slow motion. You can't even blame him. She's beautiful. Big, green eyes wide in urgency, tan skin slick with sweat, shining in the sunlight.

You can't blame him--but it hurts so bad.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

⤿Taglist (Open)

@celtic-crossbow @scudslut @itwasntaphasema @ryoujoking @i-wear-wet-socks313 @daryldixmedown @duffmckagansbandana @secretsicanthideanymore

#daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd imagine

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queerfandomtrifecta · 6 months

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How Izzy’s Death Could’ve Made Basic Storytelling Sense

Just to be clear, Izzy is my favorite and I wanted him to live more than anything. This isn’t about that, and that is NOT why I hated his death. Had it served the narrative in a way that made even the most basic storytelling sense, while I’d admittedly have been devastated in a different way (i.e. the character whose queerness was relegated to the subtext in s1 and as soon as it’s textual and his whole arc is that he’s killed, but that’s a whole separate post…), but at least there would’ve been a correctly crafted arc from a surface level narrative standpoint that ended in the death of my favorite character. But that’s not what this is about. It’s is about how the show could’ve actually made the death actually make sense and work effectively. (Also, if you want my unasked for thoughts on how most of the existing plot of s2 (minus 7-8) could’ve easily been adjusted to fix the narrative as a whole and keep Izzy alive, I wrote this)

But. For those in the fandom insisting that Izzy HAD to die, including DJenks who has said as such in interviews (for reasons I do not understand), from an objective developmental editor standpoint, this is what I think needed to change to make Izzy’s death serve the narrative, character arcs and dynamics, pacing, structure, and thematic elements correctly.

It’s about 2K words just so you know what you’re gonna get into. Spoilers under the cut.

Issue 1. Izzy’s relationship with the crew and how they truly became his family this season totally vanished during his death scene. The same crew who he protected from Ed during the later, worse parts of the Kraken phase. The crew who banded together to save his life by hiding him from/lying to Ed about it, and amputating his leg to save him. The crew he saved by crawling up those stairs during the storm, hobbling out into the rain with one leg and shooting Ed before he could shoot a cannon ball through the mast and kill them all. The crew who called him “our dick”. The crew that then banded together with Stede’s half of the crew to him the leg and the new unicorn (aka the figurehead of the ship). That crew didn’t cry a SINGLE tear when he died. What?? Fang sobbed most of episode one and really lost it when Izzy got shot. Where was that when he died?? Izzy’s last speech to Ricky had something along the lines of: piracy is about belonging/family. We are Good. (Forgive me, I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist). Izzy truly did find his family in the crew outside of Ed. That was absolutely fantastic, especially in the first four episodes and episode six. It VANISHED when he was dying and dead.

The fix: To make the death impactful, effective, or even to make it make sense on a very basic acting and writing level, the crew should’ve been utterly DEVASTATED. At least heartbreaking music and like 30 seconds of everyone breaking down and holding each other. At least some of them crying and holding each other in the background when he was dying. Come on.

Issue 2. Thematically speaking, is piracy Good or Bad? Again, Izzy tells Ricky that they (the pirates/his crew) are capital G Good. Yet Ed has spent a lot of time maintaining piracy is capital B Bad. He tells the urchins as such. Here’s some money that I never had, now you don’t have to be pirates. Don’t be pirates. He doesn’t want Stede to kill Ned Low in cold blood. Ed just doesn’t want to be a pirate. Even at the end AFTER Izzy dies telling Ed he’s with his family (implied that this is the crew) and they love Ed, Ed LEAVES THAT FAMILY AND LEAVES PIRACY IMMEDIATELY. We’re left with him and Stede watching the family Izzy swore was Good and loved Ed sail away because Ed thinks piracy is Bad. Which is it?? The death served nothing in convincing Ed he could be happy with his found family on the sea as Ed, not Blackbeard, so the dying words were pointless. The thematic elements are all over the place (for the whole season but that’s another post) and that needs changing to make the death scene make sense.

The fix: Izzy should’ve told him he sees he doesn’t want to pirate anymore, he’s glad he’s found love with Stede because Izzy isn’t going to make it, go run your fokkin’ inn, you twat (affectionate).

Issue 3. Izzy died of bad planning and bad luck. Why didn’t they take the gun from Ricky? Between Spanish Jackie, Izzy, and Jim, SOMEONE would’ve thought about it. If not those three, someone else would’ve, but come one. One if not all of those three would’ve known better. Yeah, Izzy happened to be standing in front of Ed and he got shot instead of him, but you’ve gotta be REALLY looking for that to even be aware it’s what happened. It wasn’t even on purpose unless Ed strategically placed himself behind Izzy (which I doubt was the intent). Izzy didn’t position himself protectively/take the bullet for anyone on purpose. It was just happenstance and you only notice it if you’re rewatching and hyper-analyzing everything (which a lot of us, me included, in the fandom do, but casual watchers don’t. It’s totally unclear as far as the surface level narrative goes) Any sort of “heroism” is not acknowledged, it’s barely even noticeable in the shot. If that was the intent, it HAD to be clearer and acknowledged by the characters so the audience would realize the stakes and repercussions of clear choices. As it is, I don’t think it was intentional. If Izzy HAS to die, it should truly have rounded out his arc in a way that CLEARLY changed the course of the scene, leaving him to protect people he’d put in danger at the end of s1. It didn’t. It just read as terrible planning to the point of it being out of character for more than one character, and bad luck.

The fix: Izzy should’ve saved someone. I personally don’t like the idea of it being Ed. I’s have rather he save Stede (Not really, but it’s better than Ed I guess) But really Izzy should’ve died saving the crew. The crew makes the most sense to me, narratively speaking. He’s their figurehead, he’s protected the Kraken Crew for months and they should’ve been fiercely loyal to him, he blames himself for what Ed did to them (more on this later) so it makes sense for him to fiercely protect his crew. His family. Who should’ve been devastated that it happened because Izzy is the one character of the main three who’s managed to earn that status this season.

Issue 4. The death did not serve to move the plot along. There are literally zero things that would’ve been different for the end of the episode, save Izzy being alive and on the Revenge in his rightful role he earned with his crew as the captain, if he’d have lived. Ed and Stede aren’t partnering with Zheng to go after the guy who killed him in the next season. Nope. They got the offer but nah. They’re running an Inn. Which Izzy would’ve supported based on literally everything we’ve seen from him in episodes 5-8. The crew who Izzy protected fiercely and who viewed him as their leader? Not one tear during his death or the the funeral. Happily sailing away to do presumably more Muppet Treasure Island hijinks. No character development happened. No plot development happened. The season could’ve ended literally the EXACT SAME WAY with Izzy alive aboard the Revenge!!! No stakes were changed at all. No one was impacted enough for it to seem like it was even going to be a plot obstacle next season. It just happened, Izzy’s toxic situationship who maimed him multiple times over the course of months to the point of his leg needing to be amputated was sad for one (1) scene, then we moved on and did not seem sad at all at the funeral. What.

The fix: The plot should’ve been driven by the death. Ed and Stede (but especially Ed), and DEFINITELY the crew should’ve been sailing off plotting to avenge the death and defend piracy against Ricky and the British, especially with Zheng who lost her whole fleet. Ricky and the British are clearly (or so I hope, nothing’s clear here anymore tbh) the primary antagonist for the theoretical third season. No one should be running an whim-based inn for fun or sailing off happily into the sunset after the death of the most major character aside from Ed and Stede, who beyond proved himself a major part of something every character (his family) should’ve cared about this season. If he HAD to die, that death should have furthered the plot. But instead, it seems everyone shrugged it off with tears exclusively from Ed.

Issue 5. Izzy got shot in the left side. The side in which canonically NO ONE DOES FROM BEING INJURED ON IN THE OFMD UNIVERSE.

The fix: Yeah I know this is just too nit-picky but it was also just SO sloppy. Like just shoot him on the other side if he has to die, because this was a very memorable plot point more than once in s1. Like, come on y’all.

Disclaimer: Issues/fixes 1-5 would all need to happen together to truly fix it and make the death serve the narrative correctly. Issue/fix 6 is a totally separate route, which I personally hate, but at least the narrative would’ve made sense this way.

Issue 6. The idea that Izzy had to die so that Ed could be free of Blackbeard makes no sense at this point in the story. Ed already threw away his leathers and gave away his treasure to symbolically get rid of Blackbeard, and Izzy very sweetly encouraged him to follow the feeling that throwing out the leathers gave him. Izzy told Stede that he and Ed were good for each other. They balance each other out. Izzy is on good terms with both of them and their relationship, so Izzy “having to die” so Ed could flourish as Ed genuinely makes no sense and came totally out of left field.

The fix for 6: This one stands alone and is my absolute least favorite option, but if it HAD to happen without the 1-5 fixes, here’s how it could’ve made sense. If THIS is truly the way it was going to end, Izzy needed to be continuously antagonistic or avoidant to at least Ed and actually be shown holding Ed back from happiness until that last second. He wasn’t. He was so much better. Izzy clearly does blame himself (that’s for a separate post because I have lots of thoughts there) but to be fair they were both abusive in that relationship, for years it seems. Although I think by the beginning of s2, the power dynamic has clearly flipped and it was Ed who was doing most of it and Izzy was exhausted and knowingly “reaping what he’d sewed” (I don’t Blame Izzy for his abuse but I think this was his mindset) so the crew wouldn’t get the brunt of it.

If he seriously HAD to die because the writers just had to have it that way, those are the changes I think would’ve made the narrative work/make sense, served all the character arcs and dynamics correctly, and actually driven the plot as fictional deaths are supposed to, compelling things into a third season. Seriously, this season finale was a mess of baffling choices the most series finale season finale I’ve ever seen.

Anyway. There’s my unsolicited two-cents. Now back to hoping Izzy’s in the gravy basket waiting to be sea witch necromancied back by seagull Buttons in season 3. I love this show and I hate hating what I hate hating about it because it’s my absolute favorite and I can’t stand it because it’s fantastic and the worst thing I’ve ever seen. (Also, Izzy should’ve lived).

#ofmd spoilers #izzy hands #ofmd #ofmd season 2 #ofmd season 2 spoilers #ofmd meta #izzy my beloved #izzy deserved better #we deserved better #eyyyy djenks if you need a dev editor for s3 just hmu #david jenkins #ed teach #stede fucking bonnet #stede bonnet

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smartycvnt · 6 months

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Hung Up

Title: Hung Up Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader Prompt: 4. "You care for the people you love." R WC: 1139

The arena went silent as they all stared over to where Y/n had just been knocked down. Almost everybody looked absolutely shocked by the events that had transpired. Damian had charged at Seth, who moved out of the way at the last second, causing Damian to suicide dive into Y/n. That spot had been planned and worked over for weeks, but the arena's set up had been wrong, so Y/n hit the back of her head as she went down. There was a sickening crack, and Y/n thought for a moment that she was dead. She couldn't hear or feel a thing, but within a few moments, the feeling returned to her in waves of pain.

Damian looked down at Y/n in horror at what he had accidentally done to her. Finn and Dom came sprinting around to check on Y/n without crowding her. Seth had been the first by Y/n's side, holding her hand while the medics rushed down to ringside. Inside the ring, Rhea stood there screaming at the referee to count Y/n and Seth out of the match. Y/n watched curiously as Rhea seemed completely unbothered by the entire situation. She only seemed to want to get Damian his title shot against Seth without him having to use his cash in. Y/n was glad that she was already crying from the physical pain because she couldn't have explained the wave of tears from Rhea's behavior.

"Hey kid, you're doing great. They're going to take you to the hospital. Do you want me to ride with you?" Seth asked as he squeezed Y/n's hand. She turned her neck towards him and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. "Is it okay if I come with her?"

"Come on." Seth climbed into the ambulance alongside Y/n. He was determined not to leave her side as she went through all of the stupid tests and scans they needed before letting her go home. The verdict was a concussion, Y/n's first of her career. It wasn't good news, but Y/n was grateful that it wasn't a broken neck or anything along those lines. The concussion was bad, and she had to be monitored, but Y/n didn't mind getting the company. Several of her fellow superstars stopped by her hotel room to check up on her, but Rhea wasn't among them. In fact, Y/n had been checking her phone periodically throughout the night for a text or tweet or something from Rhea, only to come up with nothing.

Even Rhea's usual messages were absent while Y/n was stuck at home with an injury. Y/n was at Seth's side for a few backstage promos, but she wasn't cleared to go back into the ring for months. Y/n hated being stuck on the sidelines, but she hated Rhea ignoring her even more. It began to make more sense why Rhea had suddenly started paying attention to her whenever Y/n switched brands over to Raw with Seth. She had immediately sided up with her mentor and teacher as his right hand. Rhea had never cared about Y/n as a person, she just wanted to get one of her guys closer to his championship title. It was hard, but by the time that Y/n came back, she had accepted it as the truth.

"What has gotten into you lately?" Seth asked as he ran his hands along Y/n's arms to smooth out her sleeves. Y/n had learned long ago not to try and fight his dad instincts, but to instead just go along with them. It was sort of nice to have that figure in her life that had been missing for so long. There had been a time when she mistook his actions for romantic, and thankfully, Seth and Becky had never held it against her. Instead, they took her in as if she was one of their own.

"I'm tired of being the underdog. Tonight, I'm making Rhea feel like the underdog," Y/n answered. Seth took note of the intense look in her eye and recognized it as that of heartbreak. There was more to Y/n's issues with Rhea than she was letting on, but Seth was certain that it'd all come out in good time. He trusted that Y/n wouldn't hold it in until it destroyed her, she was smarter than that.

"Good luck out there," Seth said. Y/n went out without a cue to interrupt Rhea's championship match. There wasn't really anything that Y/n could actually do since Rhea was in a cage match, but just her presence proved to be a good enough distraction. Rhea let herself get caught off guard at the sight of Y/n after a few months of no contact at all. Y/n had gone dead on social media as she worked on bettering herself and creating her new gimmick. She was all about revenge and vendettas. She would right the wrongs that she felt had been committed against her, starting with taking away the title that Rhea had worked so hard to earn, which would go over as well as she expected it to.

"Hey! Hey! Why did you do that to me?" Rhea had chased Y/n down in the parking lot after the show. Y/n looked smug as she stared Rhea down. They had never been close to equals before, but now Rhea seemed smaller than ever. She had lost her title, and with that, a great deal of her confidence. "What the hell was that about? Now, I have to win my title back in a rematch."

"Man, that really sucks, but you can't expect them to take the title off of Liv that quickly, can you? I mean, you heard how pumped the crowd was. Hunter likes you, but he's not stupid enough to just pluck it out of her hands so quickly. It looks like you'll either have to run back to Raw or go to the end of the line," Y/n told her. Rhea growled in anger at the teasing undertone in Y/n's voice. "If you don't mind, I have a date with the new champion at the hotel."

"What if I would have needed you tonight? Don't you care about me anymore?" Rhea asked. "I thought you loved me."

"You care for the people you love. I'm just showing you the same love and care you showed for me when I got hurt." With that, Y/n was able to walk away from Rhea without a fight. She pulled her phone out as she went to shoot a text to Liv to confirm their meeting in the hotel bar when she got there.

#my writing #one shot #wwe x reader #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley

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kisses-for-you · 1 month

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Gone - Leon Kennedy

Leon Kennedy X GN!Reader

Summary: You're dying after being shot and Leon is forced to deal with the grief.

Word Count: 1,094

This wasn't supposed to happen, especially not to you. The last thing you expected was a gunshot piercing your torso.

Whilst chasing Annette Birkin in the sewers, she shot at you when you least expected it, the bullet was now embedded in your torso. You teetered on the brink of unconsciousness, the relentless blood loss pushing you closer to what could be your final moments.

And Leon was above you, begging for you to stay awake. "Hey- Y/N.. Please keep your eyes open for me. Don't.. don't leave me. I can't lose you too," He cried, trembling. You take his hand and hold it in yours as a pained expression makes its way onto your face. "You won't lose me, Leon.." You say quietly, losing strength by the second.

What you said was a lie and you knew it, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell Leon. "Just hold out a bit longer. Hold on, please." He begged quietly. You were on the brink of unconsciousness now, your vision becoming hazy and your focus shifting in and out. He was terrified, praying that you wouldn't lose your life right then and there.

"Please. I don't want to you go, I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be without you." He said frantically. Tears rolling down his cheeks.

Tears make their way down your face as well now. From pain, but more from heartbreak. You knew that your chance of making it out was slim, almost nonexistent. Your beating heart ached as you thought of leaving Leon, the love of your life, behind. You had to get through this. Or at least try. For him. "Leon.. I love you so much. Please never forget that."

Your words broke him. You were dying in front of him, his biggest fear playing out right before his eyes. He didn't want this to be the end for you two. He didn't want to be without his light. "I- I love you too. Don't you die, please! Come on, hold on!" He was now frantic, gripping your hand tightly as he spoke. He was scared shitless that this was it for you.

You hold back a sob as you speak, "I'm trying... But the blood... it's just too much." Blood poured out from the wound on your torso, and onto the ground, as well as your lover's hands, which were trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

"I can't lose you. I won't," he cried desperately, his voice shaking. "I have to save you. There must be something I can do." You look at him, your eyelids barely open, showing just how tired and weak you truly are.

"You can't save me, Leon. The bleeding won't stop until I'm gone."

You don't want to say this but it's best to show him the reality of the situation here. You can't just give him false hope anymore. Your words broke his heart once again. Hearing you say that it was hopeless caused him to break down in front of you, his emotions all over the place.

He was desperate, trying anything to keep you alive, even though it seemed impossible at this point. "There has to be something I can do! Anything! I refuse to believe that it's the end for you right here and now." He pleaded with you.

You can hear desperation and a hint of.. anger. Maybe he was angry at you for not having any hope. Or maybe he was angry at the world for letting this happen. "There's so much I still want to say to you. And I just regret not having the chance to tell you." You tell him, nothing but the absolute truth.

Tears start to flow down your face again as you lay there on the ground, bleeding out. You want to tell him how much you love him. How you want to marry him and start a family with him. But that'll never happen now. You're not making it out alive. It's like you're in a battle with death, and you're losing. Miserably.

Each breath, each time your heart beats, it's just pure pain. You couldn't take much more. The blood your heart was trying to pump was just oozing out of you. There was no point anymore.

His eyes were red now, the tears were flowing nonstop. He was angry, and frustrated at the world for causing you to suffer, he also felt responsible for what was happening since he was supposed to protect you from anything and everything.

He held you close to him now, cradling your body. His heart ached with sadness, he had never felt so much pain before. He couldn't say anything at this point, words couldn't explain his feelings. So he just said one thing.

"I love you, Y/N."

You felt your life slowly slipping away. Right before your very last breath, you manage to let out three simple words, "I love you, Leon."

Your vision faded into nothingness, and your hearing disappeared. You were gone. There was no coming back.

Time itself seemed to stop as Leon watched as the life in your eyes slowly faded away.

He could only cry in sorrow and anguish, holding your body, feeling each and every moment as it passed. His breathing became heavy and his eyes closed, he didn't want to see the world anymore. You were his world and now it's gone for good.

"No...Please..." He said quietly, hugging you tightly.

He had failed, he couldn't protect you. He couldn't keep you safe and now you're gone. And he blamed himself for it.

He was going to be alone again, like he was before he met you. You had filled the void in his heart, and now, it felt empty once more. He had met the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He only felt true happiness when he was with you. He didn't want to live in a world where he didn't have you by his side.

Days went by, then weeks and eventually even months. But your memory never left his mind.

He didn't want to eat, he didn't want to sleep. He was completely lost in his mind, replaying every memory he had with you. All he could think of were the times you'd spent together, how you'd laugh, the jokes and everything else. He couldn't do anything except think of you.

Every day, he's alone in his apartment. Every night, he cries himself to sleep, holding onto the memories of you.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re2 #re2r #re2 remake #re2 leon #resident evil #resident evil 2 remake #resident evil 2 #imagine

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the-haikyuu-trash · 1 year

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m. osamu || tranquillity

summary : in which (Name) throw curses at Osamu Miya for being the reason she’s in pain.

tags : pregnancy labor, (name) pushing out the baby, soft fluff, mentions of sex, cursing and crying, (name) being an absolute menace

a/n: don’t ask me why i created this, idk why, i dont have baby fever ok i just find it hilarious on tiktok when the wives are saying the most out of pocket words when delivering a baby 😭 anyways quick one shot because I haven’t written anything

Fat tears were strolling down (Name)’s cheeks and nothing hurts more for Osamu Miya to know he’s the reason for her pain.

“You did this to me!” (Name) screamed in pain, her hand curling around Osamu’s large one, trying to comfort his wife in labor, ignoring her iron grip that could tear out his hand away from his body, trying hard to supress the pain appearing in his features because (Name)’s obviously having it worse. Yes, she’s pushing that baby with all her might, trying not to dissapoint the doctors who’s helping her trying to get her baby out of her.

“You’re doing amazing, my love.” Osamu whispered, eyes looking at his wife’s feature, even she looks like a messy teenager who got her first heartbreak in seventh grade, she’s still so breathtaking especially she’s the one who carried his kids. Alas, even with words of encouragement, he married a dragon.

“Fuck you, Osamu! We’re never having sex again!” Another whimpered was dragged out to her lips, more fresh tears coming out. “Oh my God, this baby better be cute!”

“I can see the hair—!” The nurse exclaimed but (Name) was quick to retort. “I don’t care! Get her out, I don’t think I can do this anymore—“ another scream of pain shot out through the room. Yes, that’s the woman he married that he can’t help but smile at her lovingly, he wonders if their baby would look like him or her, but he hopes the baby would look like her mother, (Name)’s beauty is a timeless one that he wants their baby to have one, she could get his personality and torment her uncle Atsumu, that would be quite a sight. “Osamu, holy shit you better make me food after all this.”

“We’re about to meet our baby! Few more push, love, you can do it.”

Soon, a small cry could be heard and (Name) slumped down on the bed, exhaustion finally taking over her body. “I’m so proud of you.” Osamu said, his lips pressing her knuckles and (Name) finally calmed down, a tired but small smile graced her lips when she spotted the nurse placing the baby between her chest, she feels so small.

A peaceful feeling bloomed on his chest, seeing his daughter and wife, his family completed, he couldn’t help but fall in love again and harder for Miya (Name) who made his dreams come true, and he promised— all of her hardwork, he will make it up for them. His eyes searched for hers and she looked back at his grey ones with the familliar warmth and love, her hand never letting go of his.

“Look at her, she’s so beautiful.” Osamu whispers and (Name) hummed, eyelids growing heavy. “And heavy too, must got it from you.”

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theflyindutchwoman · 7 months

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I am responsible for a life that is in jeopardy, and I will do whatever I have to to save her, do you understand?

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 2.11 - Day of Death

The juxtaposition of these two scenes - Lucy being buried alive and Tim going feral - is so powerful and haunting… They might not be together physically in those moments, but you can still feel how their own actions are being driven, fueled even, by the other. Lucy is trying to hold onto his training and her faith in him, knowing instinctively that he will do whatever it takes to find her.. And Tim is ready to burn down the city in his search for her, spiralling… But you can also see how the other's absence is starting to impact their spirit as well. They're both trying to remain as calm as possible, but there's no one to ground them...

That image of the dead tree looming over the grave site gives such an eerie and disturbing atmosphere to the scene… And so is the visual of Lucy, looking all bruised and battered. She's clearly terrified, wounded, probably still feeling woozy… But most of all, she's being defiant. She doesn't scream, she doesn't cry, she doesn't beg… She refuses to give Caleb that satisfaction, to play his mind games. And in return, she even manages to turn the tables on him, getting under his skin… and forcing him to alter his plans. That might seem inconsequential in that moment but, in the end, that's what saves her : without all her efforts, the team would have been too late. She bought them and herself some time. And that's why Tim repeatedly makes sure to remind her that she saved herself. Nyla was absolutely right in her assessment : Lucy is a fighter. She's pushing through her fear and relying so much on psychology and on her training. The way she manages to compartmentalise is so incredible. Her strength is unreal… She's remembering what Tim taught her, focusing on the procedure to calm herself down. She throws her ring as a breadcrumb for him : he once told her that the most important thing she needed was her eyes, her cop eyes. So she leaves something behind for him to find, because that's something else he taught her : she's never alone. The faith she has in him… And even her last words to Caleb are pure defiance… And true. But seeing her in that barrel is so distressing. That last shot of her trying to regulate her breathing, to stay calm and not panic is so poignant… She's on the verge of breaking down and it's so heartbreaking...

And she's not the only one : Tim is also close to reaching his breaking point, but in a very different way. He's going in a downward spiral, unravelling, with no one there to reign him in… Lucy is usually the one who can get through to him. And in some ways, this is so reminiscent of the old Tim, the one we met. Only, back then, he was punching walls or lashing out at detectives when Isabel got shot… here he is being almost unnervingly calm when he threatens that man. He has finally a target to vent his anger and frustrations to. He doesn't yell. He's not reacting, he's being very deliberate. And that it is more terrifying. He is absolutely ready to cross a line for Lucy. Remember when she told him that he was always on the right side of the law? That was when he considered for a brief moment breaking the law for his wife, before changing his mind. But now? He will do whatever is necessary to get Lucy back alive. Right or wrong. Jackson is so shocked in the background : this is a side of Tim he has never seen before. Angry? Yes. But this cold anger? No. That's the thing : Tim's reaction here is far more similar to the one he had when his wife was in danger than when his best friend got kidnapped by a cartel… Not to mention that this scene is also quite close in tone to the ones where Wesley was threatening carter members for Angela or making a deal with Elijah. Both men were ready to do whatever it took to save the women they love… Except that only one of them was married. Guilt might be a powerful motivator, but this isn't the only emotion fueling Tim here. Love was a part of it, romantic or not. He just didn't realise it yet. And it kind of makes you wonder how he would react now that they're together...

Lastly : the way both Melissa and Eric conveyed all those emotions is nothing short of brilliant. Those images of Lucy in the barrel and Tim threatening to pull that guy inside out are some of the most memorable ones from the show and they did a phenomenal job in their portrayal, the micro-expressions and the voice… They elevated the material so beautifully.

#the rookie #chenford #chenfordedit #lucy chen #tim bradford #2.11 #Anatomy of a scene - Chenford Edition

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ahonice · 10 months

Text

it doesn't matter

jamie drysdale x fem reader (ft. trevor zegras)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: drinking, sexual themes and mentions of sex, cursing, jamie being a fake swiftie (dw that is taken care of), reader has a guilty conscious, fluff (some angst i think), happy ending (those are rare on this blog), not proofread because i accidentally queued this so it posted on its own oops

note: i rewrote this about three times over the past two months, hope you guys are pleased with the final outcome. any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. hope you guys enjoy. have a great day, love y’all babes <3 !!!

+++

“hey you’re single right?” your head shot up at the sound of trevor, one of your closest friends, voice. you had known trevor since you moved to anaheim for college, on your first day in town he accidentally took your coffee from the pickup area at starbuck and you chased him down because you would be damned if you spent ten dollars on an iced coffee that you wouldn’t of been able to drink. it would’ve been a lie if you said you didn’t have a crush on him, he was so funny and kind and not to mention the fact that he is genuinely gorgeous, but you never acted on anything because you were worried he wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings, and the fact that the two of you have had one too many drunken, and a couple sober, hookups didn’t help either.

“of course i am, or else what we did last night would’ve been morally wrong, why?” your heart rate picked up, thoughts running a mile a minute. was he about to ask you out? did he actually like you back the way you dreamed he did? was our relationship finally gonna be something more than friends who fuck at times?

“i wanna set you up with my roommate, jamie. i think you guys would like each other.”

+++

it was a crushing blow, not only did trevor just inadvertently just tell you your feelings are one sided, but that they are so one sided that he thinks his roommate would be a better match for you than himself. you felt sick to your stomach, this was in no way a heartbreak, but that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt.

“earth to y/n.” trevor’s voice shook you from your trance, you had completely forgotten he was there. “you good? you haven’t said a word in like five minutes.”

“yeah i’m fine, um who is this guy? i don’t think i’ve heard you talk about a jamie before.” you wanted this to be a joke, for trevor to say he was kidding, maybe jamie wasn’t real and he just wanted to see if i was open to a relationship right now.

“well he’s on the ducks as well, seems like your type. brunette with blue eyes, he’s got nice eyebrows too, just a couple weeks older than you, i know you don’t like extremely tall guys so him being 5’11 is perfect.” the more trevor went on about jamie the more you realized that jamie was in fact a real person and did seem like my exact type. “he has freckles too, i know you love those on guys and he looks good in the color green, he checks off all your boxes y/n.” you hated that he did.

“can i see a picture before i agree to anything?” you didn’t want trevor to get suspicious when you said no, so you wanted to seem like you were at least considering it.

“absolutely.” looking over at trevor’s phone you let out a small sound of surprise.

he was gorgeous

“trevor why have you never told me about him before?” you said, grabbing his phone to go through all of his instagram posts. “he is literally beautiful!”

“i honestly didn’t even think about it, but jamie saw you at our party last week and asked about you and i knew i had to make you two happen.” trevor said, taking his phone back. “come over tonight. we’re having a party before the season starts, you’ll be able to meet jamie.”

+++

it didn’t take you very long to get ready, your hair and makeup having already been done from your errands earlier in the day, but you did struggle picking out an outfit as every twenty year old girl would. you didn’t quite know who it was that you were dressing up for, in previous months it was always trevor. you were always hoping that he would see you and you would end up staying with him until the morning. while that was usually the case, the second part of your fantasy never came true. the part where trevor realizes he has feelings for you that go further than seeing you as a good fuck. but now there was jamie, you hadn’t even met him yet and you were still wanting to impress him. maybe trevor would see you with jamie and it would make him realize his feelings for you. but jamie seemed nice, once trevor left you looked him up and watched a few too many tiktoks and interviews involving him, he seemed like the polar opposite of trevor and that might just be what you need, it also doesn’t hurt that he was just about one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your life, trevor was not lying when he said that jamie was your exact type. settling on a simple pink top and black jeans you made your way towards the uber trevor had ordered for you, palms sweaty and legs slightly shaking as you confirmed where you were headed before you saw your apartment complex disappear in the distance.

+++

“y/n thank god you’re here, i was starting to think you were pussying out.” trevor loudly yelled as he approached you, great he was already at least three drinks in. “catch up” he said once he was standing in front of you, handing you a beer.

“i don’t drink this crap, you know this.” you said, shaking your head as trevor silently continued to push the can in your face.

“fine, i bought you some caymans. they’re in the garage fridge, but don’t take too long, jamie is excited to meet you.” you ignored the way his eyebrows wiggled as you began walking towards the garage.

once you were in there you grabbed two drinks, just so you wouldn’t have to come back out for at least half an hour, as well as a shooter. you needed the liquid confidence that would come from the tiny bottle of pink whitney.

once you made your way back into the party you walked around looking for trevor, stopping a couple of times to greet those you knew, before you found him sitting with the man of the hour.

“y/n! come here, meet jamie.” trevor waved you over, you took a generous sip of the alcohol in your hand before making your way over, sitting down on the couch. trevor in the middle of us, as he began rambling to no one in particular about something you didn’t quite know, your ears tuning him out as the sound of your heartbeat in your ears took over all your senses.

“y/n, are you even listening to me?” trevor asked you, gently poking the exposed part of your waist.

“no.” the laugh you heard after that made a bush creep up your neck, jamie’s laugh was just as beautiful as he was.

“rude, anyways y/n this is jamie. jamie, this is y/n.” he motioned the two of you towards each other as he talked, jamie reached in front of him to offer you his hand. “now get to know one another, i’m gonna go play pong.” trevor stood up before you could protest him leaving you alone with jamie.

you expected it to be awkward, but it wasn’t. conversation was flowing between the two of you like you had known each other for years, you talked about the basics, what tv shows you enjoyed, favorite movies, taste in music, which then led to a thirty minute discussion about taylor swift and how jamie claimed he was a swiftie but couldn’t name any songs that weren’t played on the radio

“i have a lot to teach you i guess.” you were definitely making it obvious that you were interested in him, but you didn’t care. you’d usually be so shy around a guy so cute, but something about jamie made you calm, that was the simplest way to put it.

“i would love that.” the blush on his face matched yours. you smiled at him, contemplating whether or not you wanted to ask the question you had been wanting the answer to all night.

“so why have i never seen you around or met you before? i’ve known trevor for almost two years now, and i’m over here quite a lot.”

“i usually just stay in my room all day, especially during parties, i’m not the biggest fan of them.”

“then why are you out here right now and not bunkered up in your room?”

“i wanted to meet you, to get to know you.” jamie answered, scratching the back of his head and giving you a sheepish smile. “i came downstairs last weekend to grab something from the kitchen and that's when i saw you, i really lucked out that you are friends with trevor or else i probably never would’ve been able to find out who you were.”

you nodded at his response, informing him that you were glad you were friends with trevor too.

“speaking of him, i was hoping to see him again before i left.” you told jamie, standing up from your spot on the couch noticing his slightly upset expression. “let me give you my number, i would love to see you again, maybe begin my lessons on taylor swift to you.”

“i would love that.”

+++

after exchanging contact information with jamie you made your way outside towards the pong tables, hoping that trevor would still be out there.

“hey trevor, i was just about to leave, wanted to say goodbye.” you said approaching him in the dimly lit yard.

“you’re leaving already? i didn’t even get any time with you.” he pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder his arms loosely around your waist.

“sorry trev, but i got to know jamie. don’t let this get to your head, but i think you might be a pretty good wingman.” you joked, your arms around his neck gently running your hands through the ends of his hair. it wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to be so affectionate, so this felt normal.

“good, i’m glad.” his tone didn’t sound like his statement, but you could easily chalk that up to the alcohol in his system finally wearing him down.

“why don’t i help you get into bed? basically everyone has left already.” you suggested, forcing his head up to meet yours at your eye level.

he smirked before responding. “i like where this was going.”

“nothing like that buddy, besides you just set me up with your best friend that wouldn’t be a good idea, don’t you think?”

“that's not fair, you can’t do that.” he mumbled, his head dropping back down into the crook of your neck. “you can’t say you're taking me to bed, and then not take me to bed the way i want you to take me to bed."

you rolled your eyes at his comment and began dragging him back inside and up towards his room. once you wrestled him out of his jeans, giving up on putting pants on him because of his multiple attempts to lure you into bed, you got him to lay down and made sure he was comfortable before you headed downstairs to get some water and pain killers for him to take once he woke up in the morning.

“goodnight trevor.”

you made your way outside onto the front lawn while you waited for your uber to arrive. you usually would’ve taken trevor up on his offer to spend the night with him, but something about even just thinking about doing that was now making you feel guilty. it wasn’t like you and jamie were in a committed relationship or anything, but he seemed to genuinely like you and was actually interested in getting to know you and you didn’t want to do anything to sabotage that.

+++

from: unknown number

can we meet up today for coffee or lunch? i would love to start becoming a real swiftie.

to: unknown number

am i right in assuming this is jamie??

from: unknown number

yes 🙃

to: jamie🤭

i would love to meet up.

to: jamie🤭

could we get lunch? i am literally starving because of my hangover.

from: jamie🤭

absolutely. send me your address, i’ll come pick you up.

+++

you were in full panic mode, you had no idea what to wear and the fact that it was visibly obvious that you were hungover didn’t help at all. you told jamie to give you at least thirty minutes, after he told you that an hour was too long.

you took the fastest shower you ever have in your life before tackling the biggest issue, your outfit. you went through every drawer, bin, and your closet before you decided on biker shorts and a crewneck. you could only hope that jamie wasn’t planning on taking you somewhere with a dress code.

makeup was applied and your hair was pulled into a claw clip before jamie texted you that he was outside, you did some final touches before you made your way out of your apartment complex. you lucked out seeing that jamie was in a comfy outfit just like you were. once you were buckled up jamie handed you his phone and told you to pick the music before driving off.

+++

“so what is your all time favorite taylor swift song?” jamie asked once he joined you in the booth you found for the two of you, he had taken you to in and out claiming he was craving a burger, and you didn’t complain because you would never pass up the opportunity to fuck up some animal fries.

“i don’t have just one, i think it is humanly impossible to have just one.” you told him, taking a sip of your lemonade before continuing. “i do, however, have a list of my top sixteen songs by her in no particular order.”

“sixteen songs? that’s insane.”

“she has over two hundred songs, you’ve got a lot of listening to do.”

“well why don’t you give me your list of songs, the only ones i really care about are the ones you like.” you blushed at his words, before stating all of your favorite songs by her. his only responses were “i don’t know that one, never heard of it, i know that one, wait no i don’t”

once you were done and jamie confirmed all the songs were now added to his spotify you two began eating as you gave him a run down of her career.

“so who is your favorite and least favorite ex of hers?”

“i hope you don’t have plans for the rest of the day because i have a lot to say on this.”

+++

“do you want to get dessert? there is a nice ice cream place a few minutes from here.” jamie asked while you two were walking around huntington beach. you didn’t even realize how long the two of you had been hanging out until he asked if you wanted to get dinner, and now three hours after that when he is now asking to get dessert.

“yea i would love to.” he smiled down at you and you made the move to hold his hand. “sorry, i hope this is ok, i just wanted to hold your hand.” you blushed, turning your head away from him.

“it’s ok, i wanted to as well.” he blushed as well before he began leading the way towards the ice cream shop.

+++

“i had a lot of fun today, i was honestly a little nervous that with both of us sober it would be a little awkward, but it wasn’t and i would like to see you again. soon. sorry if that is a bit forward.” you told jamie as he pulled up in front of your apartment.

“i’d like to see you soon too, like tomorrow soon. are you busy tomorrow? we could get dinner, a nice place this time, not that in and out and qdoba aren’t nice it’s just-”

“yea i would love to, just send me the restaurants info before so i can figure out what to wear.”

“you’ll look beautiful in whatever you wear y/n.” you blushed at jamie’s comment before leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. you were quick to get out of the car, yelling a goodbye as you ran into the front doors of your building.

+++

“finally you’re back. where the hell were you? i’ve been here for hours.”

“how the hell did you get into my apartment trevor?” you asked the boy who was sprawled out across your couch eating your food. “stop eating my wheat thins asshole.”

“i found your spare key, i mean hiding it on the top of the door frame is just a horrible idea y/n.” trevor said as he went back into your kitchen, hopefully to put your snacks away.

“what are you doing her trev?” you asked, taking your shoes off before making your way into the living room.

“where were you? you’re never out late, and i got here at like two and it’s now eleven. did you pick up a shift?” trevor was quick to join you on the couch, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over the two of you.

“no, i was actually with jamie, he picked me up at noon to get lunch and then we spent the whole day together.” you blushed remembering how much fun you had today and how it was the first time in a while that you had enjoyed a date that much.

“oh, i didn’t realize that you two were getting along that well.” trevor said, reaching towards the table to grab the remote. “what the hell did you two talk about for nearly twelve hours? jamie cannot be that interesting of a guy.”

“we started off talking about taylor swift and how he is a fake swiftie, just like you are.” trevor cut you off with a gasp and hit you with the pillow he was using. “and then we talked about our childhoods, stories from school and growing up where we did.” you smiled at nothing, just reflecting on this one story jamie had told you about his worst halloween costume, which you then one upped with your own horrible halloween story. “thanks for pushing me to meet him trevor, i know it’s only been a day but i feel an actual connection with him and i can’t remember the last time i felt that with a guy.”

+++

you and jamie had been going on dates multiple times a week for the past month now and tonight the team had the night off and jamie was taking you to his favorite restaurant for date night. you weren’t dating, yet, but both you and jamie have spoken about it as something you both want. it’s just up to when the timing is right.

“where is he taking you out tonight?” trevor asked you as he joined you in your bedroom. you called him over to help you pick out an outfit for tonight.

“cortina’s” it wasn’t a black tie restaurant, but it wasn’t a jeans and a tshirt restaurant either. “i was thinking my black leather pants and then a nice top, maybe my pink top with the mesh sleeves?” you were met with silence from your best friend, “hello? earth to trevor.”

“sorry what?” you rolled your eyes before entering the bathroom, changing into the outfit you had in mind. “what do you think?”

“i think that jamie isn’t coming to pick you up for another two hours and that gives us plenty of time to have some fun.” trevor said, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you open mouth kisses on the exposed skin of your neck down to your shoulder, you let yourself revel in the feeling before you snapped back into your senses.

“trevor stop.” you pushed his arms off of you as you distanced yourself from him. “trevor you can’t do that, we can’t do this anymore.”

“why not y/n? you and jamie aren’t dating, there is nothing wrong with it. it’s been a month and i’m getting frustrated.” he groaned, flopping down onto your bed.

“that is not my issue trev, don’t blame me. i can guarantee that there are at least one hundred girls in your dm’s right now who would be willing to hook up with you, go bother one of them.” you snapped back at him, not in the mood.

“i don’t want some random girl, i want you y/n. aren’t you in the mood even a little bit, it’s been a month for you too.” you avoided his eyes as you made your way to your vanity to begin your makeup. “wait have you been fucking jamie? what the fuck y/n?”

“trevor you have no right to be upset, we are nothing. you were the one who set us up. isn’t this what you wanted?”

“no this isn’t what i wanted, i should’ve just made jamie make a move on his own. if that was the case you would still have no idea who the hell he was because jamie is too much of a little-”

“get out.” you cut trevor off before he could say anything worse. “trevor get out and don’t talk to me until you manage to get your head out of your ass.”

+++

“is everything okay? you seem a bit off.” jamie asked, he was right. after your argument with trevor you had been a bit out of it, the guilt of what you had done with trevor in the past was eating away at you. “could we talk about it later? i don’t want to ruin dinner.” your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“yes of course, but i’m gonna be honest i’m a little worried now.” jamie said, playing with the napkin on his lap.

“i am too, don't worry.” your attempt at a joke didn’t help, but thankfully the waiter came to take our orders.

+++

dinner was terrible.

you two tried your hardest to have everything be normal and how things had been in the past month, but both of you were worried about what you had to say. jamie was scared you were gonna break things off with him, he was already nervous for tonight because he was going to ask to make things official between you two, and now he was even more on edge. while you were worried that after you told him about you and trevor’s past that he would no longer want anything to do with you and would break things off before they even got fully started.

“so can you tell me what is going on?” jamie asked once you two had exited the restaurant and were sitting in his car.

“i want you to know that this started before i even knew you existed and it stopped the moment i met you.” you took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. “trevor and i had been hooking up, for nearly the whole time we were friends, but i swear to you the second i met you i cut it off. i’m really sorry for not telling you sooner, it’s just that i really, really, like you and i didn’t want anything to jeopardize that, even though keeping it a secret probably wasn’t the best alternative.” you looked out the window, avoiding his gaze, afraid of how badly he was judging you right now. “i understand if you don’t want to continue this anymore, you can just drop me off right here and i’ll uber home.”

“y/n. i don’t care.” you finally peeled your eyes away from the reflection of the cars in the side view mirror to see jamie looking at you with a smile. “your previous relationships are none of my business, yes it is a bit uncomfortable that he is my roommate and one of my closest friends, as well as one of yours, but i really, really, like you too so that doesn’t matter to me.” you smiled back at him, a few tears building up in your waterline. “i was actually going to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend, and i still want to. so y/n would you make me the happiest man alive and officially become my girlfriend?”

“yes jamie, i would be honored.” you leaned over the center console and kissed his cheek, to not distract him from the road. “it sounds like you proposed jamie.” you laughed. “are things going to be weird around trevor for you?” you hated the idea of being the cause of their falling out, or to have any team problems sprout from this.

“yes.” jamie replied bluntly. “and i’m definitely not the biggest fan of you two hanging out without me there, at least for a little bit, but it’ll all work out. i won’t let it get to me or my game, but the second he makes a comment about you it’s over.”

you giggled before replying with a short “got it.” and placed your hand over his.

“and don’t worry, i never plan on going anywhere without you drysdale. you’re gonna have to start coming to girls' nights too.”

+++

note: i actually rewrote this three times and each time the plot was different, the last version was so much juicer and had so much drama (trevor realized he was in love with reader, but he was too late dun dun DUNNNN) but i cut that out because i couldn’t get the wording right. anyways i hope y’all enjoyed, leave feedback (any and all is appreciated), have a great day, i love y’all babes <3 !!!

#jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #anaheim ducks #nhl imagine #ahonice writes

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grizzersmamma · 3 months

Note

Omg omg omg omg I just read both of your Deamon AU fics???? They are so good!! And beautifully written!!!

please please if not too much trouble, can I please request for that Au?? Maybe like all of 141 meeting each other and Deamon’s for the first time?? I picture Gaz has some kind of bird like a mourning dove or a humming bird and Price has a stronger dog breed- like a Shepard of a sheep bearding dog — y know something protective?

UGH I LOVE THIS AUUU A

((sorry if you aren’t taking requests on this, I just wanna say it’s the best thing I’ve read💕💕💕))

Requests are always open! (I just might take a while because I'm slow af lol)

I wanted to get this out this weekend just passed, but I got a fresh 'rona shot on Friday and it took me out with more precision than a sniper bolt to the face jfc. I absolutely adore the thought of Gaz with a little birb (a pretty one ofc), but I'd actually already picked something out for him, so I hope you like it almost as much as your idea. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: John Price has hand picked every member of his Task Force carefully to create the perfect team we have today, even if it hasn't always felt like that.

Notes: Written from Price's POV reflecting on the team's past.

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Series Masterlist: Here

CoD Masterlist: Here

Taglist: @heyitsropi

The first time John met Simon, he was only that, Simon Riley. The Ghost was yet to exist, and in his place, was a young man still full of life. He was friendly enough to the men close to him, but with a weariness toward anyone unknown.

That caution, of course, extended toward John in the early few days. The first few times they interacted, he was strictly professional, his daemon even more so. The panther would stalk along beside her human, remaining in silence throughout all discussions, coming and leaving as quietly as a shadow.

But over time, the younger man gradually began to settle. Simon certainly wasn’t the only person in the military to suffer from a rather poor childhood riddled with trauma and pain, and his team were kind enough to never push him too far. He would always maintain a slight distance between himself and the rest of the men on his squad, but he was often quick to smile and joke with them, telling what very well could have been the worst “dad jokes” known to man.

Both Simon and Elanor seemed to revel in the pained groans his terrible jokes could invoke, smiling innocently as if not understanding why everyone was so upset. It wasn’t a surprise to learn that Simon had a younger brother, he certainly had the annoying-older-brother act nailed down perfectly.

After a few good missions together, Simon was less reluctant to talk about his family with John in the room, discussing what he planned to get his nephew for Christmas, where he wanted to take his mum out for lunch during leave, and how he was going to get Tommy back for getting a stain on his ManU jersey.

Simon was a good man and a great soldier, and John was disappointed when the time came for him to return to his own unit. John was to travel up north toward Herefordshire and Simon was to meet with some of their American contacts to help root out a cartel down in Mexico.

Ghost was not the same person as Simon. He had the same daemon, the same brown eyes, but he was not Simon. He lacked the underlying gentleness in his eyes, and he’d grown to be cold and closed off toward everyone around him, friend or foe.

If Simon’s daemon had been quiet before, she was dead silent now. Liz would trot over to the cat with a slowly wagging tail and try to greet her, but the panther would just look at her, before slinking off to go rejoin her human. It was heartbreaking to see a daemon who had only just started to come out of her shell become so walled off again.

Sometimes he wouldn’t even see the animal in the same room and couldn’t help wondering where the daemon could have vanished to. Just seeing a daemon so far away from its human sent a shiver down John’s spine whenever he thought about it, his fingers instinctively curling themselves into the soft fur of his own.

The reports he had seen about what had happened to Simon to create this Ghost, some of them first-hand from Simon’s own therapist, sent his stomach rolling uncomfortably, and the parts about their treatment of Elanor? He had sweat beading his forehead and Liz pulled into his lap. The rough collie did her best to comfort him, but he could feel her own distress at just the thought of such a thing happening.

It took well over half a year before Ghost and Elanor were comfortable with turning their backs on John and Liz, and several before they were comfortable working alongside them. The Ghost and his daemon worked alone, but John and Liz were gradually, slowly, at the rate of a melting glacier, becoming an exception to the rule.

This made it particularly difficult when Ghost was introduced to Soap.

John MacTavish was, and still is, a loud and confident man. He doesn’t tolerate nonsense and will proudly stand behind his own personal morals and beliefs, even if it’s to the detriment of his professional career. He stands for what’s right, regardless of the consequences, and he’s entirely unapologetic of that fact.

Soap’s daemon, Gwen, is a perfect match for him. A honey badger, just as unconcerned with the thoughts and feelings of others, and entirely fearless, even when up against daemons easily twice her size. They share a fierce aggression that would have most shaking in their boots, and John has seen firsthand even lions fleeing from their warpath.

To say that Soap was a bit... much... for Ghost would be an understatement. Soap is so openly friendly with every team he works with, both verbally and physically, and his rather emotional responses to things seem to constantly have the masked soldier on edge.

Since their first meeting, Soap has learned to reign in his emotions and has matured greatly with the help of experience and the guiding hands of more seasoned soldiers. But several years ago, fresh out of SAS selection, he was far too much for a quiet Ghost who could hardly stand having even John working with him at the best of times.

While their first meeting didn’t exactly go swimmingly, it ended amicably enough since Soap didn’t seem to take Ghost’s reluctance to socialise to heart. Meanwhile, Ghost just appeared glad to have a break from spending time around someone so bright and bubbly, almost immediately vanishing on a solo mission for a week.

Kyle was a much safer bet for working alongside Ghost. The young man, while inexperienced, was the top of his class and always eager to learn more. He was like a sponge, soaking up every little piece of advice he’s given and doing his best to apply it to his work. He always asks the right questions at the right times, and always thinks on his words before speaking.

His daemon, a friendly marbled polecat by the name of Milly, was the first daemon Elanor was willing to open up to. She wasn’t insistent like many of the other daemons in the military, providing the panther with plenty of space, but always choosing to sit beside her, greeting her with a happy chirp. These simple greetings were eventually returned with small nods or pleasant rumbles, and over time, and two daemons fell into the rhythm of being at one another’s side.

Gaz was always seeking out new things to learn and Ghost had plenty to teach. No matter how difficult the lesson, he would always have the determination to see it through to the end, and his mature, competent nature was gradually winning over the stubborn lieutenant. On the rare occasion where Kyle wasn’t with John, he could be confident that Ghost would have the younger man’s back.

But Gaz brought more than plain professionalism to their team, he also brought the fun, youthful spark that the group had been missing. His sassy remarks during OPs and cheeky behaviour off the field was worming its way under Ghost’s thick skin, and John could see it in the way his lieutenant began to offer banter of his own in return.

It was like watching a grizzled old dog interacting with a friendly young pup, slowly relearning what it meant to actually enjoy life here and there. Sometimes Ghost still needed that time to be alone with Elanor, but Kyle and Milly were drawing them out of the dark and back into the light again.

More often than not the two could be found sitting peacefully together, doing nothing but enjoying the company of their fellow brother in arms. Whether it was eating meals together in private where others wouldn’t see Ghost removing part of his mask, running on the track first thing in the morning to wake themselves up, or claiming the bench under the old tree where they could discuss upcoming schedules or laugh at the young recruits just learning to walk, it was all done by each other's side.

John could see the pride in Ghost’s eyes whenever Gaz managed to get an upper hand on him in training, he could see how Elanor now greeted Milly with a gentle headbutt, how trust was building between them and their team was solidifying into something unbreakable. Gaz was a loyal man, almost to a fault, but he had awarded that loyalty to John and Ghost and, in return, had been given it back tenfold.

But the team was yet to be complete, and it wouldn’t be, not until John MacTavish joined them.

John was admittedly still not certain how well Ghost would take to working so closely with Soap after finding the other man a tad overwhelming the first time, but with Liz’s encouragement and seeing how much Ghost was beginning to come out of his shell, he had no choice but to commit to the selection. Soap’s file reported nothing but constant rapid improvement. He was a talented, driven man, and precisely someone John wanted on his new task force.

The offer was sent out and immediately accepted.

Soap and Gaz were, understandably, complete menaces. Two young men eager to prove themselves and have a little fun while they’re at it. They’re thick as thieves and both just as determined to inconvenience John as much as possible while dodging reprimands like the plague. “A bunch of children” he’d called them one day, earning a grunt of agreement from Ghost, Liz and Elanor sharing a look of endless suffering.

As for the relationship between Ghost and Soap, the best John was hoping for was for them to learn to accept one another, even if that was just enough to be able to put their best foot forward during missions. And it worked well enough, until Las Almas happened. Until Sheperd happened.

Until Simon happened.

Years of hiding away, and suddenly it wasn’t Ghost standing before him. It was Simon.

Soap was looking right at him, and Simon was looking right back.

Something had changed between them. From the report he got from the two soldiers about the events that transpired he couldn’t tell what, but it was clearly something significant. It had changed them from work colleagues to something far more dangerous. A better man would have nipped it in the bud before it had the change to potentially ruin them, but John has never claimed to be a good man, good men don’t last long in their line of work.

If he and Gaz are a good team, Ghost and Soap are unstoppable.

When they think he’s not looking, John has caught how Gwen excitedly jumps around Elanor’s body, learning against the dangerous predator and covering her with affectionate licks. More surprising, is how Elanor returns the behaviour, nipping playfully at the badger’s feet and tussling about on the carpet like a pair of kittens.

It isn’t until he sees Soap’s bare hand brush through Elanor’s fur that he knows the depth of what they are to one another.

He just hopes he hasn’t made a horrible mistake.

#call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #writing #daemon au #his dark materials #crossover #soapghost #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #we love the gaz and ghost relationship #and I'll write it myself if need be

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topguncortez · 1 year

Text

An Ugly Beast

Spring Break Kickback | Masterlist

synopsis: Addiction is a beast. An ugly, horrible, unbeatable beast. But the beast can be tamed. . . if you work for it

prompts: 14. “Should you be drinking that much?” 17. “Am I the reason you cry every night?”

word count: 2.6k

Warnings: drug addiction, alcoholism, suicide by alcohol, talks of suicide, cursing, talks about drugs, mentions of overdosing, mentions of physical and verbal abuse

requested by @sufferingophelia

Addiction.

It was an ugly demon. It was never a beast that could be totally conquered and destroyed. You could beat it down as much as you could. But, it was always there, lurking in the shadows, ready to rear its ugly head again. You watched for years as your daddy drank himself to death after your mother ran away. You made a promise to him on his deathbed that you’d never turn to the bottle. No matter how hard life got, you’d never pick up the bottle to help cope with it. And you kept that promise. . . until you met him.

Jake Seresin.

You knew that there was no one else to blame for your addiction but yourself, but boy did it feel great to curse his name when you threw the empty glass bottle against the wall. Jake had been your reason for drinking. Jake had been your reason for getting fired from your job. Jake had been your reason for not being able to leave the bathroom floor most mornings. Jake had been your reason.

But Jake wasn’t the one to blame and you knew it.

Your daddy also made you promise that you’d never fall in love. Falling in love only leads to heartbreak. You didn’t want to make that promise. You had been so naive and optimistic about marrying your perfect prince and living happily ever after. But that was only shit that was made up by Disney. Jake had made promises to you. He made promises to love you. To care for you. To be by your side until you die.

But where was he now as you were slowly killing yourself?

Your head was pounding as you sat on your couch. Your head was tilted back slightly and you pinched the bridge of your nose trying to relieve the pressure. The dust in your nose burned and you knew it would be over soon, and then that blissful high would settle in. But waiting until that moment absolutely sucked. You now realized why most coke heads turned to injecting their veins instead of snorting. The high was quicker and your nose wouldn’t have holes the size of planets in it. Blinking a couple times, you pulled yourself to sit up, and grabbed your phone. You squinted at the bright light and saw the same screen you were met with night after night.

Not a single notification.

“Fuck you,” You muttered and tossed your phone back on the couch cushion. You had learned that as an addict you were extremely impulsive. Even though every fiber in your being, well those left that hadn’t been shot to hell from the alcohol and pills, were telling you not to call him. To not leave another nasty, slurred voicemail. But you couldn’t help yourself. You liked the idea that maybe he got mad when he listened to them. Picking up your phone, your eyes were half open as you dialed his number. The dial tone went on for a bit until you were met with the familiar sound of his voicemail box.

“Hey this is Jake, sorry I can’t answer, please leave a voicemail and I’ll get back to you.”

“You need to change your voicemail message,” You slurred, “It says ‘I’ll get back to you’ but you have never gotten back to me, you fucking liar. I guess everything you fucking say is a goddamn lie.” You shook your head and started laughing uncontrollably, the high finally getting into your body. And that's how the voicemail ended, with your maniacal laughter in the background.

— — —

The bar by your house was a hole in the wall, dive style type place. Before now, you would’ve never been caught dead at this place, but it was only a two block walk from your house. You were a smart addict, never taking your keys when you were to fucked up. The walk to the bar was always fine, it was the walk home that was the struggle. Somehow you always managed to get into the house you grew up in and fall asleep by the front door.

You weren’t sure how long you had been at the bar, but clearly it was long enough to start your usual argument with Dave, a retired Army Vet who always said that his branch was superior. You were biased, being raised by a Naval Aviator and having dated one for the better part of a decade. Intoxicated you loved to get into arguments though, and you’d say just about anything that made you sound somewhat intelligent, even if you were just arguing the same point over and over.

“Listen here, asshat,” You pointed your beer bottle at Dave, “The Army can fucking suck it. How the fuck did Bin Laden die? Oh yeah, Navy fucking Seals.”

“Quit your bitchin, girl!” Dave yelled back. Clearly you were ruining his drunken bliss but you couldn’t care.

You tilted your head back in a laugh as you grabbed the small baggy from your pocket. You needed this, and you didn’t care if you were about to do a line on the dirty bar top. You placed your credit card and a dollar bill on the bar as you dumped out the white substance. It was almost all in a line, when Jerry, the owner, came and wiped it away.

“What the fuck!” You yelled.

“You know my rules,” Jerry said. He was a burly looking man, long hair that was thinning on the top and a beard that made him look like he should be on Duck Dynasty.

“Man, Jerry, fuck you,” You snapped. You were a mean drunk, something you inherited from your daddy. The things you said in an alcohol induced haze were ones that you would never say if you were sober.

“Don’t you start,” Jerry pointed his finger at you. You scowled at him, twirling your empty bottle around the bar top. He knew what you were planning before you could even do it. He moved first, reaching to grab your phone on the bar and dodging the bottle you threw at the wall. Before dealing with you, Jerry dealt with your father. He had learned a few things over the years, like how neither of you never changed your emergency contacts. Your father had your mother’s number saved as his for years, even after she left him.

You were still stewing in your anger that Jerry wiped away the coke that you had paid a hundred dollars for. That’s one thing no one told you about drugs, they were expensive. It was no wonder that addicts usually switched to other things that were cheaper to get their high. Jerry returned your phone back in front of you and sat down another drink. He didn’t care if you drank yourself stupid, it was better than snorting china white into your nose.

You looked up at him, “I’m lookin out for ya kid,” Jerry shrugged and you nodded, taking the drink in your hand.

You sipped this one slowly, knowing that this was more than likely your last one for the night and Jerry was gonna send you packing. It was peach crown and coke, the drink you used to make your daddy all the time. You hated peach crown. It was what took him from you and left you with Jake and the terrible gene of addiction.

Jerry was humming along to some song on the jukebox when the door opened, the bell overhead ringing. You were leaning your head on your hand, your eyes barely awake. If anyone walked in earlier in the night, you would turn around and greet them as if this were the bar in Cheers. Jerry glanced up from the glass he was washing and smiled softly at the man walking over to you. Even in your near sleepy state, you picked up your rocks glass and brought it to your lips. Except, a warm hand was placed on yours and lowered the drink glass back down. You looked over your shoulder and rolled your eyes.

“Fuck you, Jerry,” You sneered and the bartender pretended not to hear you.

“Let’s get you home.”

“I’ll stomp on your shoes,” You threatened, but still turned around on your barstool and let him help you off of it. He put one arm around your waist and held your hand in his opposite hand. You weren’t the most coordinated person sober and being under the influence made it worse.

“Thank you, Jerry,” He said over his shoulder to the bartender.

“No problem, Jake, get her home safely,” Jerry waved towards the blonde man.

Jake usually got a call from Jerry at least once a week to come get you. And without fail, he always did. You’d cuss at both of them, and then Jake would help you climb into his truck where you’d fall asleep and he’d carry you to bed. However, this time you were going to put up a fight. You weren’t high like all the other times you got into Jake’s truck. Jake looked over at you as he clicked his seatbelt into place. He clenched his jaw taking in the sight of your sunk in face and tired eyes. You looked like you hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks.

Jake sighed, “Should you be drinking this much?”

“Why do you care?” You asked, not even looking over at him, your eyes staring straight ahead.

“Because you’re killing yourself.”

“Not fast enough,” You mumbled.

“Listen,” Jake shifted in his seat to look over at you, “I made some calls, and I found a place not far-” You bursted out laughing and Jake’s eyebrows furrowed.

You turned in your seat to face Jake this time, “You listen to me. . . Go to hell.”

“Y/N, this isn’t healthy! The drinking, the drugs. . . This isn’t you.”

“This is me!” You yelled and Jake flinched. Your voice when you yelled was almost so much louder than he expected, “I come from a long fucking line of addicts, I’m surprised it’s taken me this long to start.”

Jake shook his head, and turned back to face the steering wheel. Tears were falling down his cheeks as he sat there dejectedly. He was out of options. The girl sitting next to him was not the girl he had fallen in love with years ago. You have changed in more ways than one. And Jake wasn’t the only one concerned about you. His mother is after you left her a strange voicemail. Your sister is after you texted her in a coke psychosis. Bradley is after he drove by your house one night and saw you struggling to get up the stairs. Even your mother had reached out and asked Jake if you had fallen into the trap of the addiction beast.

You leaned back in your seat, and looked back towards the car parked in front of you. A sniffle was heard throughout the cab and you looked over to see Jake, wiping a tear from his cheek. Jake Seresin doesn’t cry. He watched as you held your dad’s hand in the hospital as the doctor’s unplugged the machines keeping him alive, and didn’t cry. He watched as his sister held onto the body of her child that succumbed to cancer, and didn’t cry. He watched his dad butcher his favorite cow at the age of six, and didn’t cry.

“Are you fucking crying?”

“Yes,” Jake said, swallowing thickly and turning to you, “I’m fucking crying.”

“Am I the reason you cry every night?”

Jake let out a shaky breath and nodded. He spent every night crying as he ignored your call, watching your contact photo flash across the screen. He spent every night crying as he listened to your voicemails. He spent every night crying as he thought of your funeral he would be planning too soon.

“Good,” You said and turned back to face the front, “You deserve it. You deserve to cry every night because of me. Cause I spent too fucking long crying over you!”

“This isn’t my fucking fault!” Jake yelled back at you with the same level as you did, “Quit being a fucking child and own your shit! This whole thing is your fault. I didn’t hold a fucking gun to your head and tell you to drink.”

“You might as well have!”

“Get out,” Jake shook his head and unlocked the door, “Get the fuck out of my goddamn truck.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing your ground. Jake waited a moment, seeing if you would move, and when you didn’t he cursed and got out of the driver’s seat. You jumped as he slammed the door and watched him walk over to your side and pulled the door open.

“What are you-” Jake grabbed your arm and tried to pull you from his vehicle, “Let me fucking go!” You fought against him and Jake tried to grab you to get you out.

“Get out!” He yelled, trying his best to ignore you as you swiped at his face, “Get out!”

“No!” You screamed as he overpowered you and pulled you out. You let out another scream as he basically tossed you on the ground, your drunken stupor causing you to fall on your behind, “Asshole!”

Jake ran his hands through his hair as he realized what he had done. He promised God and you that he would never lay a malicious hand on you, and now, he had physically removed you from the truck. He put his hand on your hip and looked down at you, your eyes hard and jaw clenched.

“Ya know,” Jake chuckled, “If you wanted to kill yourself, you would’ve done it by now. Your dad has guns in the house. There’s plenty of knives in the kitchen. Hell, you can probably figure out how to use your bedsheet to get the job done. In yet. . . you are choosing the slowest way to fucking go.” You looked down at the ground, pulling your knees to your chest, “So to me, that says ‘I don’t want to die’. That tells me, you are a fucking coward.”

“I am not!” You hated being called that. Your father had yelled at you one night when you tried to hide your face from the beer bottle he threw at your head.

“You are!” Jake yelled back, “You could get this whole thing over with! Could take you and us out of our misery. However. . . you wanna drag this out. Make us watch like it’s a fucking execution.”

Your lip quivered and the dam broke open. As much as you hated him for saying it, you were scared to die. And oh how many times had you sat on the couch with your dad’s shotgun and pistol in front of you scared that the creatures in the trees were going to break in and get you. Oh how the thoughts of just putting the gun under your chin and blowing your top off would protect you from the red eyes that were tapping at your windows. But every time, you’d pick up the phone and call Jake, leaving a voicemail about how you were hiding under your bed with one of the knives from the kitchen because you were scared that the man with no eyes and mouth had broken in.

“I can’t make you get clean. I can’t make you stop drinking,” Jake said, “All I can do is help plan the funeral.”

You nodded and looked up at Jake, “Make sure my casket is white."

You smiled at him and Jake choked back a sob as you laid back on the concrete, an eruption of laughter falling from your lips. You didn’t even bother to sit up as Jake walked away from you and got in his truck. It started up and you closed your eyes as the F-150 pulled away from the sidewalk and drove off into the night.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow my library page for notifications on when I post:) @cortezslibrary

if you or anyone else is struggling with addiction please call the Substance Abuse, Mental Health Service Administration hotline: (1-800)-662-4357 for help with addiction and mental illness. The hotline is available 24/7, 365 days.

If you or anyone else is struggling with thoughts of suicide, please call the United States National suicide hotline: 988 for help. This hotline is available 24/7, 365-days

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