#then crashed my car within 2 hours of this

[inkskinned]

we heard that you were very disappointed in us both as a generation and specifically as a generation of women (emphasis yours), how we had let ourselves go and now we were slutty and ill-tempered and holding onto notions of feminism like "having a savings account" and "equality."

we were very sorry about it, we didn't realize. it is very hard for you, in your life, because your entire definition was centered around the word providing, and that's a really vague and undulating word. it is hard to be a provider. for your purposes, the word provider here can be defined as "having a job", although it sometimes also extends to "doing yard work", "grilling on occasion," and "knowing basic car anatomy."

we had to do some reading but we divided it out. do not worry. high-value women will fill in the rest of the gaps of your life - all those silly feminine things like doing the dishes. we didn't realize we had asked too much when we asked you to pick up after yourself. we did not realize you were rendered small and scared and crying about the possibility of doing the laundry. here is a joke to lighten the sentiment: a man that listens when you talk to him.

we heard about how we had fallen from glory and it sickened us and made us very, very sad. lindsey had to cut all her hair off and tara threw up. we lit one million candles and we are going to have a vigil about it tonight. all of the people in this world that you do not approve of are going to be there and we will all be in mourning colors because we have lost your respect which is of course the only thing that any of us were looking for.

we searched around our bedrooms and our closets and for some of us it took a while but we all found the pricetag that we were originally born with, the one that gave our listing offer, the one that smells like rot and pine needles. we were horrified because many of us had taken deductions and hadn't realized it. i had scraped my knees and decided to be a lesbian so they had to take my voicebox out so i could never call home again. janice had been with too many people overall so we had to put her into the big squisher that will hopefully collapse her walls so that when you're with her, you'll feel so big and powerful. it will be like you're conquering something instead of being close with someone.

we are all going to the funeral of feminism and we will tear at our bodies and fall over ourselves. we will invite you onstage for a live recording of your podcast about the occasional minor inconvenience of self-reflection. you will talk about how we have targeted you and made you feel the sweat slick down your back, and we will teach you basic self-defense out of solidarity.

do not worry, we are seeing to all the outliers. taylor asked to be taken seriously so we have shipped her off to prison. laura asked you to accept her femininity regardless of her presentation. you will be happy to hear all women are now and forever going to have to be small and thin and pretty and white and ablebodied and quiet and unassuming and ladylike, which is different than how society has previously told us to act.

i am going to have to shave off my jawline, which is a little masculine, and they are going to have to reshape my hands, which are very square and thick - all the work i've done with them has made their veins stand out, so we're just going to have to exsanguinate me. i am horrified to have been out in public like this.

we are going to sit around the campfire and we will talk about being weird little girls that made potions in pink teacups. we will talk about the first time we made a difference. we will talk about the private lives of crickets, and then, at the stroke of three in the morning (the witching hour, obviously) - we will all promptly shut up.

and this will be your beautiful world. this silence that spans every corner of every street and every zoom meeting and every alley. i do not think you'll notice at first - it will be the same as every television show and movie and book. we will all just simply sit there in our doll dresses and smile blithely at your advances and none of us will do you the dishonor of answering and none of us will appear to be in distress and none of us will nag you or make a fuss or get hysterical about it. it will just be quiet, and you will say finally, some peace for once! and we will smell of smoke and our teeth will be white and the next day will come.

tonight we are going to bury the last little bits of our humanity. you are not invited. it is going to be ugly.

[thedensworld]

Rewind Button | J.Ww

Pairing: Wonwoo x reader

Genre: angst, time travel, bestfriend

Summary: If Wonwoo had a time machine, he would definitely go to crash your wedding.

Warning: mention of arranged marriage, sexual abused, suicidal activity, depression.

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY! COMMENT YOUR WISH FOR ME HEHE🙈🙈

***

Wonwoo stirred from his sleep, disoriented and bewildered by his unfamiliar surroundings. He glanced around, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains of his old apartment studio. Confusion clouded his mind as he realized he should be gearing up for an action scene shoot in just ten minutes, yet here he was, inexplicably back in his past.

Memories flooded back as he recalled the sensation of being in his car, the soft melodies of music playing in the background. But why was he here now?

Before he could fully process his confusion, the shrill ring of his phone shattered the silence, jolting him from his thoughts. With trembling hands, he reached for the device, his heart pounding with trepidation as he saw the caller ID: Mingyu.

It had been nearly five years since they last spoke, and the sudden call from his old friend only added to the surrealness of the moment. Wonwoo's mind raced with questions, his emotions a turbulent whirlwind as he hesitated before answering, unsure of what awaited him on the other end of the line.

"Hello," Wonwoo's hoarse voice greeted Mingyu, his mind still reeling from the surreal experience of being transported back in time.

A rush of urgency flooded through the phone line, Mingyu's voice filled with frantic energy. "Hyung! Where are you?! The ceremony will start in 2 hours!"

Wonwoo blinked in disbelief as memories of this very conversation, this same heated exchange with Mingyu, flooded his mind. It was a moment from the past, long gone, yet here he was, reliving it once again. Why was he experiencing this déjà vu?

"Hold on, Mingyu," Wonwoo managed to utter, struggling to process the situation unfolding before him.

"Hyung! Are you listening to me?" Mingyu's voice cut through Wonwoo's thoughts, pulling him back to the present moment.

"I'll be there," Wonwoo murmured softly before ending the call, his mind swirling with confusion and disbelief. As he hung up, a sense of unease settled over him, leaving him grappling with the inexplicable phenomenon that had just occurred.

As Wonwoo's mind raced, replaying the moments leading up to his unexpected reunion with you, his heart pounded with a mixture of apprehension and longing. He wasn't accustomed to making requests or wishing for things, always content to be the grateful, considerate person others admired. But tonight, as he lay in bed, his silent plea had been answered, thrusting him into a whirlwind of emotions.

Meeting you again after five long years, on the set of his latest film where you were cast as a cameo, had ignited a torrent of memories and regrets within him. The scene played out in his mind like a haunting film, your presence stirring feelings he had buried deep within himself.

As you both discussed the upcoming scene, the unspoken tension between you hung heavy in the air, overshadowing the easy camaraderie you once shared. Wonwoo couldn't help but notice the bruises hidden beneath your hair and sleeves, a stark contrast to the vibrant spirit he remembered from your past encounters.

When he finally mustered the courage to approach you in private, your first question pierced through his defenses like a dagger to the heart. "Why didn't you come to my wedding?" you asked, your voice calm but laden with disappointment.

Wonwoo was rendered speechless, his throat constricting with guilt and regret. He had never prepared himself for this moment, never anticipated facing you again under such circumstances.

"I read your letter, and I was so disappointed you didn't come," you continued, mentioning the drunken confession he had penned before your wedding day, a stupid letter.

"Mingyu too, he felt the same about our friendship," you added, invoking the name of their mutual friend.

Unable to meet your gaze, Wonwoo could only mutter a feeble apology, his fingers fidgeting nervously.

But when you rolled up your sleeves, revealing the bruises marring your skin, his heart shattered into a million pieces. He longed to reach out, to offer comfort and solace, but fear held him back, afraid that even the slightest touch would break you further.

"Did Mingyu know about this?" Wonwoo finally managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded solemnly, confirming his worst fears. "But he couldn't do anything," you confessed, your words heavy with resignation.

Silence enveloped them both as Wonwoo struggled to process the weight of your words, the guilt and helplessness threatening to suffocate him.

"I was waiting for you," you whispered, the memory of your wedding day haunting your expression. "Since you promised."

Your laughter, tinged with bitterness, echoed in the cramped confines of the van, and Wonwoo felt his heart shatter all over again. "But you never came."

*

Wonwoo, dressed in his usual attire, rushed to the venue of your wedding ceremony, his mind spinning with confusion and urgency. Was this all just a dream, or had he truly been thrown back in time as he had desperately wished for earlier?

Mingyu's surprise was evident as he greeted Wonwoo, his eyes scanning his friend's unconventional choice of outfit – a black hoodie and baggy faded denim pants. Wonwoo's appearance, fresh only from a quick face wash, stood in stark contrast to the formal attire expected for such an occasion.

"Why are you dressed like this? Today is a special day!" Mingyu exclaimed, his concern evident in his voice as he pulled Wonwoo aside, shielding him from prying eyes.

Wonwoo blinked rapidly, unsure of how to explain his sudden appearance and disheveled state. If he were to tell Mingyu the truth – that he had traveled from the future to prevent you from suffering in an abusive marriage – he knew his friend would dismiss it as absurd.

"I need to meet Y/n," Wonwoo replied impatiently, his sense of urgency overriding any concern for social norms or propriety.

Mingyu furrowed his brows, his hand resting reassuringly on Wonwoo's shoulder. "We talked about this, man. You said you'd give up on her."

Wonwoo's heart clenched at the memory of his previous conversation with Mingyu, where he had resigned himself to letting you go. "Yeah, I know," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

"But I changed my mind. I can't let her go," Wonwoo confessed, his determination shining through despite the obstacles ahead.

Mingyu sighed, realizing the gravity of Wonwoo's intentions. "Isn't it too late? You know her husband is someone with power," he cautioned, his concern for both Wonwoo and you evident in his words.

"I promised her that I'd come today, help her cancel the wedding," Wonwoo explained earnestly, his gaze unwavering as he met Mingyu's widened eyes.

"No way! You know what would happen to both of you," Mingyu protested vehemently, his concern for their reputations and public image overriding any sense of recklessness.

Wonwoo took a deep breath, steeling himself before dropping a bombshell on Kim Mingyu. "She's pregnant with mine," he stated firmly, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

Mingyu gasped in disbelief, his eyes widening in shock. "What?!" he exclaimed, unable to comprehend the gravity of Wonwoo's revelation.

Wonwoo nodded, his expression solemn as he tried to convey the truth of his words to Mingyu. "I'll explain everything later, but right now, I need to meet her," he insisted, his voice tinged with urgency and determination.

As the weight of Wonwoo's revelation sank in, Mingyu could only nod in reluctant understanding, realizing that his friend's resolve was unshakeable. Together, they stood on the precipice of a decision that could change the course of your lives forever.

*

"When he found out i was pregnant with other man, he practically almost murdering me everyday. He made sure that i was suffering and i ended up losing the baby. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you poured out the painful truth, revealing for the first time to Wonwoo that you had been carrying his child. The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, each syllable laden with the agony of your suffering.

Wonwoo held you tightly in his embrace, his heart breaking as he realized the extent of your torment. Guilt gnawed at him relentlessly, a relentless onslaught of remorse for his past actions. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the weight of his cowardice – the cowardice that had cost him your love and the life of his own child.

In that moment, he saw himself for what he truly was: a coward who had let fear dictate his every move. He had been too afraid to pursue a relationship with you, convinced that you were too perfect, too good for someone like him. And in his cowardice, he had stood by while you suffered unimaginable horrors at the hands of your husband.

As you spoke of the threats and abuse you endured, Wonwoo's heart shattered into a million pieces. The thought of you enduring such torment while he remained silent filled him with a profound sense of shame and regret.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I should have protected you. I should have been there for you."

But your confession only deepened his anguish, as you revealed the depths of your despair. "But I'm so tired," you admitted, your voice trembling with exhaustion. "Every day feels like hell, and I just want to die."

Wonwoo's heart clenched at your words, the pain in your voice echoing the turmoil in his soul. He vowed in that moment to do whatever it took to save you, to break free from the shackles of his own cowardice and finally stand by your side. For he knew now, more than ever, that he could not bear to lose you again.

A week later, news of your attempted suicide rocked Wonwoo to his core. As he stood in the hospital corridor, waiting anxiously for any update on your condition, the weight of his guilt threatened to crush him. The letter found at the scene revealed the depths of your suffering, documenting the abuse you endured at the hands of your husband.

Finally, after five long years, Wonwoo came face to face with Mingyu in the hospital aisle. Mingyu's eyes held a silent accusation, and Wonwoo couldn't bring himself to meet his friend's gaze. He bowed his head in shame, unable to deny the wrongs he had committed.

But to Wonwoo's surprise, Mingyu's arms enveloped him in a tight embrace, his own tears mingling with Wonwoo's. "Hyung... She'll be alright, right?" Mingyu choked out between sobs, his voice thick with worry and fear.

Wonwoo wished desperately that he could offer Mingyu reassurance, to tell him that you would indeed be alright. But the truth weighed heavily on his conscience, threatening to suffocate him. He longed to confess that everything that had transpired was just a dream, that you were safe and alive, and that you belonged to him. But his fear held him back, sealing his lips shut once again.

As the situation began to calm, Mingyu turned to Wonwoo, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Did she tell you?" he asked, his voice tinged with resignation.

Wonwoo nodded silently, his heart heavy with remorse.

Mingyu sighed, his gaze drifting towards the room where you were being tended to by medical staff. "I just hope that asshole didn't use his money to free himself," he growled in anger, his fists clenched in frustration at the thought of your abusive husband escaping justice.

"For these five years, she's suffered a lot," Mingyu continued, his voice tinged with sorrow. "I want to help her, but there's nothing I can do besides offering emotional support."

He paused, his expression pained as he revealed the truth behind your intentions to reconnect with Wonwoo. "She told me that she was going to meet you for a shoot. She actually just wanted to be friends again. There was no intention of telling you the whole situation. But I forced her."

Mingyu's words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the consequences of Wonwoo's actions and the pain he had caused. As he listened to his friend's words, Wonwoo felt a surge of remorse wash over him, knowing that he had hurt not only you but also those who cared for you deeply.

*

Mingyu accompanied Wonwoo as they approached your room, his hand gesturing for Wonwoo to enter and have a conversation with you. Wonwoo, visibly nervous, stepped into the room, scanning the space until his eyes fell upon you sitting on the couch. However, instead of your usual charm and charisma, he noticed a subdued air about you. Nevertheless, your face lit up when you saw him, and you rose from your seat.

As Wonwoo rushed towards you, pulling you into his embrace, you felt a mix of surprise and comfort flood through you. "Let's take you out of here," he whispered urgently, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze.

Your eyes widened, a hint of fear flickering across them. "But I can't," you protested, your voice trembling. "He's not just a random person, Wonwoo! He would sue us."

Wonwoo shook his head, determination etched into his features. "We confront him," he insisted, his voice firm yet reassuring. "And tell him the truth." His words carried a sense of resolve, offering you a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

Tears welled up in your eyes, reflecting the turmoil within you. "But what about our careers?" you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "We're going to be doomed after this... Think about yourself, Wonwoo!" You pleaded, trying to shake him out of his determination.

Wonwoo held your shoulders firmly, his gaze unwavering. "In another universe, I was selfish," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "But I ended up losing our friendship, losing Mingyu. I ended up losing you..." His words hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of past mistakes and missed opportunities.

Confusion furrowed your brow as you searched his eyes for understanding. "What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Wonwoo's grip on your arm tightened, his resolve unyielding. "We don't have much time," he urged, his voice urgent. "Let's go to the groom."

Quickly, Wonwoo waited for you to change into comfortable clothes, both of you donning masks and hats to conceal your identities. With Mingyu's help, you found the groom, who was engrossed in conversation with guests. Mingyu motioned for both Wonwoo and you to retreat to a private area before confronting him.

The groom's surprise was evident as he laid eyes on you standing outside your room without your bridal gown. Before he could react, Mingyu and Wonwoo restrained him. Wonwoo realized the groom had no control over himself; he wasn't your husband yet.

"Let's stop the wedding," Wonwoo declared, his voice firm as he initiated the discussion. The furrowed expression on the groom's face spoke volumes about his response.

But before he could utter a word, Wonwoo dropped the bombshell. "She's pregnant with my child. We've been having an affair even before you entered the picture." The groom's composure shattered, his anger palpable.

"What does it mean, Y/n? We discussed this already."

As the groom moved towards you, Wonwoo and Mingyu intervened, shielding you from harm. Wonwoo signaled for Mingyu to escort you to his car while he dealt with the groom.

With an imposing presence, Wonwoo approached the groom, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the groom's agitation. "Y/n will pass away five years from now," Wonwoo revealed, his words laced with a solemn warning. "And you'll be behind bars for abusing and murdering her. I know your violent tendencies with women, so don't come near us unless you want the media to know."

Enraged, the groom grabbed Wonwoo's clothes, but Wonwoo effortlessly freed himself, straightening his attire. "I'm from the future," he declared, his voice steady. "We could stand here all day discussing your future, but let's prevent it by canceling this wedding."

*

Dear Yoon Y/n,

It's your friend, Jeon Wonwoo. I want to start by apologizing for my absence after that night. I couldn't bring myself to face you because everything changed between us. I no longer saw you as just a friend.

To be honest, it's been a long time since I've seen you that way. You've become more than a friend to me; you're a woman. I confided my feelings for you to Mingyu, and when I admitted I liked you, he punched me. Yet, he confessed he saw it coming.

For a fleeting moment after that night in your apartment, I was happy. I knew we were both intoxicated, but I didn't regret a thing. Yet, I couldn't shake the uncertainty of whether you felt the same way about me. Did you feel the same love as I did for you?

Today, I received your wedding invitation, and I couldn't muster the courage to confront you in person about how much I love you. Mingyu mentioned it was an arranged marriage, which gave me a sliver of hope that you might not love him. But at the end of the day, he'll be the one who owns you, right?

I want to be him. I want to be him so badly. If I were to attend your wedding and ask for your love, would you want to run away with me?

If your answer is yes, then I promise to be there.

With all my love,

Wonwoo

*

Wonwoo sat beside Mingyu, the weight of grief heavy in the air after attending your funeral. Mingyu handed him a book, your diary, a crucial piece of evidence detailing the abuse you suffered at the hands of your husband. Wonwoo's fingers traced over the cover, feeling the weight of your words within.

As he flipped through the pages, his heart clenched at the entry describing the morning of your wedding day, when you discovered your pregnancy. "She must have been waiting for me," Wonwoo thought, his throat tight with emotion.

Each word in your diary painted a vivid picture of your pain and suffering. Wonwoo read with tears streaming down his cheeks, feeling every pang in his chest as he absorbed the honesty and rawness of your emotions.

The diary was a testament to the strength you had to endure such torment, and Wonwoo couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by a mixture of sadness, anger, and admiration for you. It was a journey through your deepest struggles, and Wonwoo vowed silently to ensure that justice would be served for you, no matter the cost.

"Gyungmo raped me that night. He wanted to kill my baby." Wonwoo closed the book, barely able to continue it.

Anger, guilt, and regret crashed over Wonwoo like a relentless tsunami. Jung Gyungmo, the source of your suffering, must pay for his atrocities, Wonwoo thought, his fists clenched with fury.

"We hadn't spoken for months after her wedding," Wonwoo recounted to Mingyu, his voice heavy with remorse. "But she called me in the dead of night, desperate for help. Her husband was nowhere to be found when I arrived. She was barely holding on, her body weak, blood staining her legs."

Mingyu turned to face Wonwoo, his expression mirroring the sorrow etched in his friend's features. "She was five months pregnant, enduring unimaginable stress and abuse," Mingyu explained, his voice cracking with emotion. "And she lost your... your baby."

Wonwoo's heart shattered into a million pieces as the weight of your pain crashed down upon him. The realization that he could have done more, should have been there for you, gnawed at his soul like a relentless beast. The guilt and anguish threatened to consume him whole as he grappled with the cruel reality of your suffering.

Mingyu's voice trembled as he struggled to continue speaking, the weight of your absence crushing his heart freshly from your recent funeral. Tears streamed down his cheeks uncontrollably, his grief pouring out in waves. Despite his own pain, he reached out to Wonwoo, his arms wrapping around his best friend in a tight embrace, seeking solace in their shared sorrow.

"It's not your fault," Mingyu whispered, trying to offer some comfort amidst the overwhelming anguish.

But Wonwoo's voice quivered with guilt as he choked out his words, his tears mingling with Mingyu's. "This is my fault!"

Mingyu shook his head vigorously, refusing to let Wonwoo bear the burden alone. "No, hyung," he insisted, his own anguish evident in his voice.

"If only I had intervened at her wedding, if only I had stopped everything, she would still be with us! She wouldn't—" Wonwoo's words dissolved into sobs, his pain too raw to articulate.

Mingyu nodded in solemn agreement, his own grief consuming him. "Me too, hyung," he confessed, his voice thick with sorrow.

"If only I could turn back time, I would stop the wedding in a heartbeat."

If only...

The words hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the irreversible tragedy that had befallen them all.

[smrsxx]

Legends Are Made | Lewis Hamilton x Female Reader

Summary : 9 months after Ayrton Senna's fatal crash , Y/N Senna Da Silva was born in Rome , Italy and was defined by destiny carrying the same talent as her father's . At the very young age of 2 Y/N developed an interest upon her father's job and then entered the fascinating world of F1 . Growing up and moving from F3 to F2 her dream to bring back her father's legacy seemed to finally come true , when she joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team , becoming the first woman on the F1 grid . What she did not expect was that she would fall in love with an 5 times world time F1 champion , Lewis Hamilton .

TW : Mentions and descriptions of Ayrton Senna's fatal crash from the autopsy , Max is super mean upon the reader ( Red Bull is an absolute shit in this ) , anxiety and panick attacks , a lot of angst(y feeling's ) , tears ( both of sadness and happiness ) , Ayrton visit's the reader ( I was crying when I wrote this ) , but extreme fluff towards the end .

This idea came up to me back in May 1 of this year , and while I was listening to the song above Legends Are Made by Sam Tinnesz , I could not help myself and think of all the things that could have happened if Ayrton had a daughter with the same talent . After 3 months working on this I finally finished it .

Just remember that English is not my first language , so if you spot any mistakes just bare with me . ( It is a tw on it's own ) .

PS : I do not usually pour my entire heart and soul on every imagine that I write , but I actually did in this one - and I am proud of it - I hope you like it . I was literally crying the whole time .

Edit : Still crying .

19k words - i got reallyy away with this one

______________________________________________________________

May , 1 1994 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

Lap 7 . . . the  car left the racing line at Tamburello and ran in a straight line off the track and struck an unprotected concrete barrier .

He tried to brake down .

He really did .

The car hit the wall at a shallow angle, tearing off the right front wheel and nose cone with 211 km/h .

" Ayrton Senna crashed after the Tamburello corner and smashed with the barrier . Red Flag . The safety car is on it's way . We may need an ambulance for this . " The presenter said with an anxious tone in his voice .

Ayrton tried moving his head but the pain was insufferable .

After that he lost his vision and everything turned black .

" Ayrton Senna Da Silva , a truly staggering talent is dead at the age of 34 years old , after crashing his W16 on the concrete barrier . We lost without any doubt one of the best or maybe the best F1 racing driver." The same presenter said after a couple of hours after the incident .

Ayrton Senna Da Silva - your father - was dead .

_____

January 8th 1995 , Rome , Italy

It was a sunny but cold day when your mother gave birth to you .

Y/N Senna Da Silva . . . the one and only daughter of the F1 champion Ayrton Senna .

You did not know it yet but you would grow up without your dad .

Although you carried something very special within your heart .

His talent was passed over to you , something that your mother tried desperately to avoid .

At the young age of 2 , after watching for the first time a F1 race , one of your dad's , you could not help but wonder about all these fast cars that were racing in big circles .

You were amazed by the colors and the sounds of the engine's .

Your mother did everything in her power to keep you away from F1 and she thought she had succeeded , until one day when she picked you up from the Kindergarten you were crying and sniffling your nose.

When she asked you what happened the only answer you could give was more tears and the phrase " The other kids say that I don't have a dad , because he left me . "

That phrase still keeps you and your mother awake at night .

After that incident she decided to show you one of your father's races.

You loved it .

Little did she know that you had the same talent as your father and she could not keep you away from it .

After a couple of months , you entered the F1 worlds by going into karting .

_____

By the time you were 15 years old , you were able to perfectly drive a F3 car . Your coach said that it would be too easy for you to move from karting to F3 and then F2 .

" You are just like your father . " Your mother said to you on your first big crash .

You had a few big scratches but nothing that could stop you from raicing .

" What do you mean ? " You asked her back trying to convince your mother on telling you more .

After a few hours of you talking you found out more information about your father's tragic death .

" I saw it live on the TV . He was motionless . He had so many injuries ih his head . There was so much blood . You could see it from afar . Thereafter he did not move again . He called me before the race saying that he had a feeling , that something bad will happen to him."

" How ironic " She thought .

__________

' The resemblance is almost scary . ' You thought while you were looking at your debut photo , that the Mercedes AMG Petronas team had published .

It was 100 % sure that you were your father's daughter .

You had the exact same curls at the end of your hair , big honey color doe eyes , that cute little nose and those same full dark pink lips .

You even had the same stance .

Same fashion style . Heck even some clothes of his where now on your closet .

You were practically the same .

But you were not on the same F1 team .

While your father had the best time in McLaren , you joined the Mercedes AMG Petronas team in 2015 .

Being 25 years old you became the youngest amongst everyone , but what made it even worse is that you were the first woman on the F1 grid .

The night before your first public appearance you couldn't sleep .

You were worried and anxious .

Thinking about people's opinions made it even worse that it already was .

Getting up you decided to go to the kitchen at take those sleeping pills your doctor prescribed for you .

And before you knew it you entered the dream space - or so you thought .

" You know that you can not go on like this for long right ? " A man's voice spoke from your left side of the bed .

A voice you have heard before but can not pinpoint exactly where .

" This is not a dream Y/N you can answer me . "

Y/N .

He knows my name .

' I know his voice . ' You thought .

And then it hit you right in the face .

" Dad ? " You asked tears on your face while you where slowly turning to his direction .

He smiled .

He smiled to you .

Your dad smiled to you .

Suddenly you felt someone embracing you - a soft kiss on your forehead .

You hugged him back .

Your dad was here - hugging you and telling you he loves you .

" I am always with you , you are safe . " He told you .

By now you were crying uncontrollably .

" I love you so much Y/N . "

" Do not leave me alone dad . Please . " You begged him through sobs.

" Never Y/N . I love you ." He said to you one last time before you fell asleep .

And he was right .

He never left your side .

You woke up after 8 hours of sleeping , with his cross on your nightstand beside the photo you had of him .

You were safe .

__________

One year had passed since you first saw your father for the first time .

Everything was going great with the team - almost .

You and Lewis Hamilton were practically best friends by now .

' The best duo on the whole grid ' . Everyone said .

Fans going crazy on Twitter shiping both of you .

You had become great friends with Daniel Riccardo and Carlos Sainz.

You had a good relationship with Fernando Alonso and Perez although you did not talk much , but you respected each other .

You and Valtteri Bottas became buddy's through Tiffany and you had the best time pranking Lewis .

Sebastian Vettel was something else entirely .

He respected you and helped you in any way possible . Being the oldest one in the grid helping others with his own ways , made him the father of the grid .

The only one who did not speak to you was Verstappen .

Max Verstappen .

He looked at you with such hate .

Did not talk at you .

Even when you had to sit net to him in interviews he always switched seats with somebody else .

Atleast you were thankful that nothing ever happened .

__________

Two years had passed by .

The best two years of your life .

Your relationship with Lewis was stronger than before .

At least that's what you thought from your part .

You liked him .

Actually you liked him even more than a friend .

God you even loved him at this point .

But you desided to keep it to yourself , not wanting to mess up your frienship or even worse jeopardize your partnership .

Valtteri joined Mercedes and for once you though that they would ask you to transfer , but Toto Wolff would never do it . Especially after watching you getting close to Susie an having the best time babysitting their kids .

In the Brazilian GP of 2017 you finished first place earning the respect of Kimi Raikkonen and becoming close buddy's .

You were always sending food posts and memes in each other and you even died from laughter when you first watched Jackass while babysitting his kids .

Everything was going great until the Abu Dhabi GP .

Valtteri finished first , Lewis second , Sebastian third , Kimi fourth , you fifth and in the sixth place Max .

You had overtake him in last possible minute earning your place in your father's hometown - something that Max did not like at all and decided to make it show in the press conference later .

__________

" My name is Joseph from the F1 Magazine and my question is for Miss Y/N Senna . Y/N you were so good today and I am a 100 % that next year you will win the Championship . I can not help but wonder though and it is something that a lot of people are asking - today you came in the grid with some of your father's clothes . Is there a particular reason ? " He asked you .

" I actually do it all the time since some of his clothes fit me and I believe that he had the best style back then and since now Lewis has stolen that place I need to bring it back . " You answered smiling and making a little joke about Lewis that alot of people loved .

Especially him .

" That is great . My next question is for everyone and it is about what cars do you drive . Can we start with Mr . Vettel . " The interviewer asked with a smile .

" Well I have a Golf . " Carlos said and everybody laughed .

" And you Max ? " The guy asked him .

" I drive a Ferrari , not like someone else that drives a Golf or an almost 30 year old car . " Max said hating on Carlos and you .

You drove your father's famous red Honda NSX and actually own a really big percentage of the Honda NSX cars and you were extremely proud about it .

" Okay . See you on Twitter . " Carlos said know full well that Max is going to get so many new haters .

Sebastian was not proud , Kimi was laughing at Max's stupidity , Daniel was embarrassed and Lewis was furious .

" Y/N what do you have to say about this ? " The guy named Joseph asked you .

" First of all I agree with Carlos and second I am proud of driving such a car . Actually you can ask Mr. Mibe the CEO of Honda and he can assure you that my 30 year old Honda's are far more better that just a plain Ferrari . Thank you . " You answered making everyone in the room speechless .

" Well I totally agree . " Sebastian said laughing .

" She owns the division of the Honda Acura , she can buy all the Ferrari's he owns and plenty more . " Kimi said making everyone speechless again .

Carlos was right , because Twitter was going wild after the press conference was published .

__________

To say that you were mentally drained was a statement .

You were currently crying your eyes out .

Lewis and his dog Roscoe were on your side .

" I just wished the season didn't end like this . " You said while Lewis was hugging you .

" It's okay silly , everyone is on your side . Look even Kimi talked after a really long time . " Lewis said and you both laughed .

Suddenly you were both looking at each other in the eyes and before you noticed it Lewis had capped your face in his palms and pressed his lips at you .

You were so shocked that you did not realize that you had not kissed him back .

Your unresponsiveness made him believe that he was getting wrong .

'' I am so sorry Y/N I kno that you did- " Lewis said but you interupted him .

" Why did you stop ? " You asked him making him froze in his tracks .

It is safe to say that he kissed you back again something that went on about hours and hours on end until Roscoe got jealous of it and started to bark in your faces .

You stayed in Lewis hands for a while , until a scared Toto stormed inside the room .

" Next GP ? Imola , San Marino circuit . " He announced for both of you to hear , but was looking directly at you .

Imola , San Marino - where your father had lost his life .

__________

May , 1 2018 Imola , Italy - San Marino Grand Prix

"Today's atmosphere is heavy . We are in San Marino , Imola circuit where Ayrton Senna lost his life . Now we are waiting for the race to start as we have Y/N Senna Da Silva driving for the Mercedes AMG Petronas team . Toto Wolff specifically asked for the press to not be outside of the Mercedes pit . Y/N is already anxious and worried enough . We hope and pray for the best . In my opinion she is the best driver of this generation . " The same presenter that witnessed your father's death , spoke about you .

' 5 minutes till the race start's ' . You said to yourself .

You were inside your car , wearing your father's famous yellow helmet, his cross on your neck inside of your clothes .

Lewis had begged you not to do it .

Daniel and Carlos were totally afraid .

Kimi had retired .

Sebastian knew that it was dangerous but you wouldn't badge .

Your boyfriend - Lewis - was looking at you , pleading you with his eyes from his car to not do it .

Valtteri did not intervene .

You started from P4 , Sebastian in P3 , Valtteri in P2 and Lewis in P1 .

And the race started .

__________

You don't know how many laps you had done , you weren't counting them .

Everytime you approached the Tamburello racing line until you pass it , your heart was dropping on your stomach , you had trouble breathing .

You were thinking of him .

You thinking about your father .

Your mind was your enemy at this point telling you to 'look at the corner' .

You heart your companion was telling you 'do not look at the corner' .

'What if I lose control of the car and smash into the barier ? '

' What if I die ? '

' Mom is going to be devastated . '

'Lewis . . . oh my Lewis . . . '

' What if ? '

But despite your heart telling you to not look at the corner near the racin line in Tamburello , you did it and what you saw made everything stop .

__________

It is like you were watching the scene unfold it's self from afar .

You were back in 1994 .

Your car was on the other side of the road parked - you standing at the side of it .

Suddenly your father's car ran off the track and was struck an unprotected concrete barrier at 211km/h .

You could hear everything .

You could see everything .

You could smell everything .

Blood -

Your father's blood -

Tears streamed on your face like falls , your hands trembling while you were running to your father to save him .

But Death was far more powerful .

Before you could go and grab him , a hand engulfed your right wrist .

Your dad was standing besides you - his unconscious body still inside the car .

You started panicking , blindness covering your eyes - head dizzy .

" Y/N breath for me come on honey listen to me . " Your dad instructed you .

Trying to concentrate on your father's voice , you did not see his body getting lift out ofthe car , bones broken , blood everywhere .

After a while your father took you back to the side of your car , watching himself being lifted into a helicopter .

" What was the last thing you felt ? " You asked him .

" The taste of blood in my mouth and pain . " He answered calmly .

" I love you dad . " You said to him and hugged him again searching for his embrace .

You cried again .

" I love you too . Stop unsettling your mind with uneasy thoughts and go finish that race . Okay champion ? " Your father said to you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead .

Suddenly you were inside you car racing at 211km/h passing the Tamburello racing line - with your father's voice saying that he loves you watching him with tears in your eyes waiving at you from the corner .

__________

" AND Y/N SENNA DA SILVA IS THE WINNER OF THE IMOLA GRAND PRIX AND THE F1 WORLD CHAMPION OF 2018 " . The presenter scream in his microphone when your car overtook Sebastian's and finished in 1st place .

Your team was screaming , but all you could see and hear was your father saying ' I love you ' and ' I am so proud of you ' .

Only when Lewis hand landed on your shoulder you looked up - at him with tears in your red eyed from crying .

He helped you to get out of your car , took of your helmet and your balaclava , staring at you .

He grabbed your face - " What happened love ? " He asked you .

" I saw everything Lewis . I saw my dad . "

__________

You were currently standing with the Brazilisn flag on your shoulders , trophy on your hands , closed eys and head looking up , while everyone - even the fans - were all silent .

After you rised for your national anthem you asked for a minute of silence for your father .

The wind was blowing - and when something made you shiver but feel safe at the same time - you knew that your father was sitting besides you .

After one minute tears of happiness fell from your eyes .

__________

2023

You are now 28 years old , married with Lewis from 2019 with one beautiful baby boy .

You were still racing .

But today was a special day .

It was your son's birtand he was turning 3 years old .

You've desided with Lewis to go and wake him up , since you've prepared his favourite breakfast and after you would let him open his gifts .

" Goodmorning Ayrton Happy Birthday honey " You both said to your son to wake him up .

Mom's and Dad's and Thank you's could be heard all over the apartment as your son was driving his toy car around the house while holding a cookie .

Chocolate was plastered all over his face .

You were both happy smiling at him .

And then suddenly you heard your son screaming in the leaving room-

" I woak up in a new Ferrari . "

" I swear I am going to kill Carlos and Charles the moment I see them." Lewis said to you while you were uncontrollably laughing .

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

@unimportantbabymilksharkte

@k----a27s

[disneyprincemuke]

glorious happenings * milo+rocky vault

notes: haha this isn't canon in the current timeline btw i just miss mocky and if you come to my inbox again, just know that i will ignore you so leave me alone before i seriously consider unhinged my jaws to be extra deranged

also, this was supposed to have their first kiss, first date and first fight but well... i got lazy so pls just take what u can get ty

(series masterlist) | (📁 the milo + rocky vault)

the first airport pickup

she chews on the inside of her cheeks, tapping her phone against her palm as she cranes her neck, trying to look past the sea of people significantly taller than her. for a person she barely knows.

a person she’s only spoken with over the internet.

how absurd that a man would fly from the us just to be able to take her out on a date. and how absurd that she didn’t even think twice about offering her apartment up for him instead of making him pay for a hotel.

he’s only in london for her, after all. at the time, it seemed fair — looking back, she’s actually asking to get murdered.

“you know, you’re a lot harder to find in a crowd than i’d expected,” a disembodied voice speaks into her left ear, a looming presence making her jump up and away from this said person. “and you’d think that it wouldn’t be this hard to find one of the cutest girls in an airport in london.”

a laugh fills their bubble as she looks up at him distraught and a hand on her chest. “normal people start with hello to the other person’s face, by the way.”

milo hums, scrunching his nose. “i’ve already flown to london with 2-day’s notice; it felt like we were past acting within the norm.”

“well, a warning would have been nice.” she clenches her jaw, a soft sigh passing her lips as she closes her eyes momentarily. she takes in another deep breath to open her eyes, meeting a wide grin. “how was the flight? are you hungry? i know this really good diner right by my apartment — i reckon you might like it.”

he coos, a pout carving his lips with a hand on his chest. “you’re getting soft, rocks.”

“don’t call me that,” she rolls her eyes, though there’s still a small grin playing on her lips. she grabs the handle of milo’s luggage and starts pushing it. “you’re not at that level of personalised nicknames yet. rocky or my name.”

he gapes at her with a small grin before he picks up his feet to walk with her. “anyway, it’s pretty early. i can drive if you want.”

“no can do,” she whispers, shaking her head, “i’m using my roommate’s car.” she lifts her head to look at him. “i don’t have a car. yet.”

“yet?”

“yeah, i’m actually supposed to pick it up tomorrow afternoon. so i’m going to have to leave you in the apartment with my kids for a little while.” she presses her lips together, suddenly realising that she’d sprung this on him. “if that’s okay, of course. i shouldn’t take more than an hour and–”

milo’s laughs cuts her off. “it’s okay. i’ll make you breakfast.” he snatches his luggage back from her. “thanks for picking me up. i thought of where we could go on a date tonight, actually.”

the first crash

“i told you,” she sighs, holding the phone up to her face, “there wasn’t a need to send me flowers. it wasn’t a serious crash.”

“well, you disappeared on my for 2 days, so i’m guessing it’s serious by some degree,” milo mutters, disappearing from her screen. “how come you’re in oxford and not london? did something happen?”

she gapes wordlessly at the camera, tilting her head. she hasn’t really spoken about the crash to anyone but blythe. “right… you know i live in london.”

“i do. i’ve been there before.” milo’s laugh fills her room as he comes back to the camera. his eyebrows furrow at her frown and slightly teary eyes. “is everything okay, rocks? did something happen?”

she sighs. “yeah. i crashed out during the race and retired — hospital and everything.” milo hums with a nod. “logan and i crashed out during the race.”

“oh.” he wasn’t expecting that. well, he did, but not that she’d crashed out with someone she’s spoken very highly of in the past couple of months they’d known one another. “are you okay? how do you feel?”

“i’m not on painkillers anymore and i finally got the energy to go downstairs by myself,” she rambles, resting her head back on her pillow, “blythe made me breakfast.”

milo blinks. “i mean about your crash with logan. are you guys okay?”

“i guess,” she squeaks, quickly avoiding his stare through the screen.

“so why aren’t you staying in your apartment with logan right now?” she blinks right back at him. the explanation is simple, really, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. “you don’t have to go into detail, but at least don’t say it’s okay when it’s not.”

she nods and clenches her jaw. “we fought, and haven’t spoken since we crashed.”

“ah, alright.” a moment passes. “well, do you wanna watch a movie together if you’re feeling better?”

“that sounds fun. do we get to watch one of your movies?”

“please don’t make me do that.”

“fair.”

the first ‘i love you’

“that was an amazing race, rocks.”

“i can’t believe you made it.” her squeak is high-pitched as she glances over her shoulder, sneaking out from the paddock gates. she wraps her arms around milo’s torso and squeezes him before pulling away. “sorry i didn’t give you my passes. you know, i can’t possibly say ‘no’ to my dad when he wants to watch my race.”

“it was genius asking me to come and watch you — what do you mean? i don’t need the passes,” he grins, swaying in the hug and nuzzling his face into her neck. “my friends and i had fun even if we weren’t in the paddocks.”

she sighs. when she’d put out the idea of him coming in and watching her home race (because she grew up here), she hadn’t actually thought that milo meant it when he said he’ll convince his friends to come along with him.

perhaps she should have expected it from someone who flew to london just to take her out on a date.

“i’ll tell my friends soon, i promise. it’s just–”

“rocks,” milo laughs, shaking his head, “it’s okay. you can tell your friends that whenever.”

she grins, pulling away slightly to look up at him. “so you’re coming to oxford with me tomorrow, right? to meet my parents?”

he grins, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “of course. i’m so excited — came bearing gifts for everyone and everything.”

“that’s so adorable!” she coos, pulling away with a hand on her chest. “i love you, miles, but you really didn’t have to do that.”

a deep chuckle freezes her where she stands, eyes widening as the weight of her words gets to her head. she looks up at milo and shakes her head. “i mean–”

“i love you too, rocks. i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t.” he cups her cheeks, giving her a tender kiss on her lips. “i’ll pick you up tomorrow from your apartment, alright? i’ll drive us to your parents’.”

the first gossip

“rocks, you’re never going to believe what i just heard.” the door creaks open and the young man steps back at the unexpected pairs of eyes he meets. he grins sheepishly. “sorry. should have knocked.”

logan shrugs, shaking his head. “i was just about to head out.”

milo shakes his head, arms spread to block the door. “you’re gonna wanna stay for this, dude. it’s hot, juicy gossip that was relayed to me.”

the girl sits in her beanbag and tilts her head. “who in the right mind would give you gossip willingly? you’re such a blabber mouth.”

“doesn’t that remind you of someone, rocky?” logan turns around sharply to look at her.

she points a finger at logan. “i’m a changed woman. i don’t do that anymore.”

“okay, good for you,” milo scowls. “do you want to hear the gossip or not? it’s pretty interesting.”

“sure?”

“mick’s seeing someone.”

she drops her phone on the carpeted ground of her driver’s room, lips parting in shock. “mick’s what? he told you that?”

“i’ll give it to you this one time, manheim. you were actually right about it being hot and juicy,” logan grins, leaning on the wall behind him with an impressed smile. “did mick tell you anything else?”

“okay, okay,” milo giggles, walking deeper into the room. he drops himself in front of the beanbag that she sits on and places his hands on his knees. “so it’s crazy–” he twists to look at logan. “what are you doing standing there? get in here so i can tell you all that he told me.”

logan lifts his eyebrows and pushes himself off the wall. “oh, i’m included. alright.”

the first night over (at his)

“rocks?”

milo walks out of his bathroom, ruffling his hair with a towel to dry it off. the girl lies comfortably in his bed and a mean glare is thrown his way. “don’t make me get out of bed.”

he points at the bathroom behind him. “i thought you said you wanted to brush your teeth before bed and put on your retainers.”

“i don’t know if you actually need glasses,” she glances at the dog sleeping on her stomach, “but i have a dog sleeping on my stomach.”

he points at her, “i see that. but what about your retainers?”

she sighs. “could you just help me grab them? they’re in the front pockets of my backpack — little pink container with a mclaren and williams’ sticker on it.”

his laugh fills the room as he makes a sharp turn to where her backpack rests in the corner of his bedroom.

“don’t ask about the stickers. i woke up hungover one morning with it on there,” she rolls her eyes. “if you turn it over, there’s a mercedes and a red bull one on the other side. courtesy of mick and liam.”

“do any of them get an andretti sticker to rep you?” milo teases, shaking the retainer’s casing in his hands to show it to her. “and may i get one so everyone knows that my girlfriend is that super cool, super sexy and super beautiful driver?”

she hums, pressing her lips into a thin line. “if you play your cards right, you might even get a special edition rocky hoodie from her merch line.”

“how generous, rocks.”

he hands her the pink casing and she smiles. “still like me even with the retainers on?”

milo kneels on the bed with a smile, pressing a kiss on her cheek. “like?” he snorts. “love you even if you didn’t have teeth.”

“oh, don’t put that image in my head.”

“you’d still look very cute.”

“how would you know that?”

“just imagined it in my head.”

“just shut up, milo.”

the first dnf

the safety car comes to a stop right by the paddocks. the girl mutters a soft ‘thank you’ before immediately pushing the door open to leave.

she has her helmet in her hands as she walks with her head low, jaw clenched as she tries her hardest to contain the sob she feels threatening to come out of her.

if she could, she’d tear down all of the walls around her and scream. but she can’t. because around her are cameras pointed at her with fans gawking as she passes them. it’s not their fault her car couldn’t handle the heat.

she makes a sharp turn for the andretti racing home, head hung low until she opens the glass doors.

“aw, rocks.”

she lifts her head from the ground and sighs heavily, shoulders slumping at the sight of the familiar green eyes she’s been hoping to see when she got into the safety car. she lets the door close behind her, throwing her head back as she closes her eyes. “miles.”

“come here, rocks. i got you.”

she lets out a soft whine as she finally lets out the sob she’s been holding in for the past 10 minutes, running over to where her boyfriend stands by the bottom of the stairs, expecting her.

she sighs exasperatedly as she takes large steps towards him, tears starting to fall out of her eyes. she chokes on her sob as she stumbles into him.

milo wraps his arms protectively around her smaller frame. “it’s okay, rocks. i’m here.”

“it’s so unfair,” she cries into his chest, the material of his shirt bunched up in her hand. “the weekend was doing so well, my. why is it always me?”

“i know, love,” milo hums, resting his cheek on the top of her head. he sways slightly, looking around the room with a mean stare. “it’s not your fault, okay? you have to remember that.”

immediately, all whispers halt and prying eyes are torn away from them. he lifts his arms to shield her face away from the cameras — ones that are very clearly pointed at them through the windows — and huffs.

“that’s the second retirement in a row.” she leans into his body and wraps an arm around milo’s torso. “that’s so fucked up. you should have seen what they were saying about it last week.”

“i know,” he hums softly. “come on, let’s freshen up in your room and i’ll get you some ice-cold pepsi, okay?”

she shakes her head, wiping her nose. “i think i need to be back at the garage to watch the race.”

“let’s get you freshened up first, okay?”

i'm only tagging my #1 mockynation vault @angsthology because i dont wanna be annoying lolsie xoxo

[vampyredyke]

emergency commissions to help a jewish queer family!!

no idea if you guys remember my last donation/commission post, but my roommate and husband got in a car crash in late January and Lee is still wounded (as of today, 4/9/24), torn ACL, and will need surgery, the two of them are the only ones with jobs a the moment and we're about to have to move on top of this all

I really need to help cover some things because as it stands the hours he's missed at work, and the costs of ubers while we were without a car, our savings for the move have been entirely depleted for a lot of reasons

I'm looking to make a few thousand to cover moving out of state, and if everyone who follows me sent even just a dollar I'd have more than enough, i get things are tight for everyone but please message me about commissions we're a little desperate

art (traditional finished digitally):

will draw characters, mech, furry, and nsfw/gore within reason

$25 for base drawing

+$10 for an extra person

+$5 for shading

+$5 for detailing

examples of my art are tagged "my art" here

DM me and we can talk details

tarot readings (lost hollow tarot or marigold tarot decks)

$7 for a 3 card pull (present challenges, advice, future)

$5 of a 2 card pull (future and advice)

DM me if you're interested in something more detailed

please consider helping us! things are really tight right now!!

v*nmo: @ hellhole13

p*ypal: @ sbahj

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Found You- Part 2

Summary: Nearly 10 years ago, you left home after a bad incident with your parents, Rick and Lori Grimes. In that time, you married a redneck down south and started a family. But it all came crashing down when the dead started to walk.

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: language, blood, brief attempted SA (nothing happens)

PART 1

A/N- Back with a part 2!! Thank you to my lovely follower who commissioned this fanfic and wanted a part 2. I really hope she likes this, and I hope you all enjoy it as well. ❤️

*6 Months Later*

The prison had fallen. Your home, your safe haven, your everything was ripped away from you within an hour.

The Governor and his soldiers arrived thirsty for revenge with a tank, which ploughed through the fences and blasted holes into the walls of your home. The prison didn't stand a chance.

You managed to escape with Rick, Carl and your youngest son Dean. But you had no idea where the others were or more importantly were Daryl, Merle and Ricky were and it was killing you.

Michonne had showed up at some point joining the four of you in your journey to some community called Terminus. There were signs placed around the area everywhere with directions on how to get there, so you hoped that Daryl and Merle would be there, and you prayed to anyone who was listening that little Ricky was with them.

"We're close. Just got to make it through another day." Rick suddenly said, breaking the silence as you sat around the campfire on the side of the road.

Carl and Dean were asleep in the abandoned car you had come across on the road. It was a good place to camp for the night, the kids safe inside the vehicle where no walkers would be able to get to them.

"If folks there are taking people in, they have to be strong. They have to have a system." He continued to say.

"I wonder if the whole thing's legit." Michonne responded while you sat there silently and stared at the flames of the campfire.

Michonne and your father continued to talk about Terminus, but you were barely listening too busy thinking about the day the prison had fallen, the day that you last saw your husband and eldest son.

"On the bus. Go!" Maggie's voice shouted across the courtyard.

You looked up from where you were taking cover behind a turned over table, Daryl and Merle right beside you, breathing heavily and reloading their assault rifles.

Maggie and a few others were ushering some of the kids into the bus, getting ready to evacuate if it came down to it, but you could only see Ricky amongst the kids, no sign of Dean anywhere.

"Cover me. I'm going to make sure the kids are on the bus." You shouted above the gunfire.

Daryl and Merle both nodded before they stood up and started returning fire at the Governors men. You didn't waste any time before you took off sprinting across the courtyard, jumping over the bodies of the fallen and around the debris the tank had caused.

Maggie was rushing out the bus as you reached it, her eyes wide and panicked as she scanned the area behind you like she was looking for something.

"Have you seen Beth?"

You shook your head, "no. Is Dean in-"

You didn't get a chance to finish that sentence before she was sprinting off in the opposite direction shouting her sisters name desperately. You stepped into the bus, your eyes raking over the kids and elderly on the seats before you spotted Ricky standing on one of the seats and looking out the window anxiously.

"Ricky, baby." You sighed, rushing down the aisle before he turned around and threw himself into your arms. You hugged your boy back tightly before you pulled away and grabbed his shoulders, holding him in front of you. "Where's your brother? Where's Dean?"

Ricky’s face paled and he glanced over his shoulder at the brick walls of the prison and your stomach dropped. Dean was still inside?

"I-I didn't want to leave without him. But the adults told us to go, and I couldn't find Dean and-and. I'm sorry. I'm s-sorry." Ricky whimpered, his eyes now swimming with tears.

"No, no, it's okay. It's not your fault. Hey, look at me, baby, it's not your fault." You insisted, cupping his face with your hand as the tears started to fall and you wiped them away with your thumb. "I need you to be brave for me, okay? I need you to wait here and I will go and get your brother."

Ricky nodded, biting his trembling bottom lip in effort not to cry before you leant forward and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"I will be right back."

You spared one last glance at your son before you ran back out the bus and sprinted towards the main door of the prison.

"Dean!" You shouted, rushing inside and searching high and low for him. "Dean, where are you?!"

You checked the cafeteria first, then the shower block, but Dean was nowhere to be seen.

The cellblock was next. He wasn't in the cell that he shared with Ricky. He wasn’t in yours and Daryl's cell either and that was when you really started to panic. You began to check every single cell, throwing back all the blankets and sheets trying to find him.

"Dean! Where are you?" You shouted desperately.

"Mummy?"

You spun around so fast, nearly giving yourself whiplash in the process before you spotted your son peeking out from the door to the cell at the far end of the room. Merle's cell. Of course, he was hiding in there.

"Dean!" You rushed over and dropped to your knees in front of him, cupping his face with your hands and searching his body for any injuries, but he seemed to be fine. "Thank God. C'mon, we need to go."

You scooped Dean up in your arms and rushed back outside to put him in the bus with the other kids, but the bus was gone. It wasn't parked in the courtyard anymore. It was gone, which meant Ricky was also gone.

"No, no, no, no, no. No!" You screamed, shaking your head in denial.

This couldn't be happening. No. This couldn't be fucking happening. Your boys were gone.

"W-what's happenin'?" Dean whimpered, getting upset that you were upset.

"It-it's okay. Everything's okay." You reassured, despite the fact that your eyes were filled with tears, and it most definitely wasn't okay.

You frantically looked around taking in the carnage and destruction left over from the fight, but there was no more fighting. The gunshots had seized, and the army tank was quite literally on fire. You couldn't see any people, yours nor the Governor, but there were walkers. Lots of walkers.

The gunfire and explosions having drawn them in from the woods. Everyone must have already evacuated, there were too many walkers to fight, and the prison was destroyed. They had all left.

"Y/N!" Carls voice suddenly shouted.

You looked to your left to find him struggling to hold Rick who was leaning heavily against him.

Shit.

You sprinted over to them, shifting Dean onto your right hip before hooking your father’s other arm around your shoulder, helping take the weight from Carl. Ricks face was busted up, bloodied and bruised, the Governor having done serious damage. You hoped he had killed that son of a bitch, but you didn't ask, you had bigger things to worry about.

"Did you see where the bus went?" You quickly questioned, looking between them.

"No, was Judith on the bus?" Carl asked, grunting as the two of you helped Rick across the courtyard.

Shit. Judith wasn't on the bus, and you didn't see her in the prison either. Where the hell was she?

"I didn't see her. Where's Daryl and Merle?" You asked, but Carl shrugged his shoulders.

Maybe they had gotten on the bus before it left?

"We-we need to get out of here." Rick stuttered, his voice sounding as pained as he probably felt right now.

You nodded in agreement, the three of you picking up the pace and heading for the gap in the fence towards the woods, but out of nowhere, Rick suddenly stopped walking and was staring at something on the ground in the distance.

"What are..." Your voice died in your throat when you saw what it was.

Judith’s baby basket.

It was sitting on the ground in the middle of the courtyard, but it wasn't exactly empty. It was full of blood. Fresh blood. Oh, dear God.

You felt like you were going to be sick as tears burned in your eyes, but you couldn't look away from it no matter how badly you tried.

Judith was dead. Your baby sister was dead.

Your father and brother were both crying. Your arm tightened around Ricks waist as he leant more into your side while he sobbed. It was a different kind of pain hearing your fathers cry like that. He was always the strong one, the one that never broke, but seeing him like this broke your heart and you couldn't stop yourself from crying either.

"Hey, Y/N? Y/N?" Rick's voice called out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, bringing yourself back to the present as you looked over at your father who was eyeing you worriedly.

"Sorry, what?" You asked.

"We're going to find the others. You know that, right? Ricky too. They're probably already at Terminus right now waiting for us."

You appreciated his words and knew he was only trying to reassure you, but you also knew that wasn't guaranteed. The others might not be at Terminus and if they weren't, then what? How were you ever meant to find Daryl? Or what if Daryl and Merle were at Terminus but Ricky wasn't with them?

"Hey." Rick said gently, leaning over and grabbing your shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

You took in a deep shaky breath and nodded while fighting back the tears you could feel starting to rise at your fathers' words. It was something so simple, the reassurance and kindness of a father, but it was something that you had spent years without. You had missed it. You had missed him so much.

"Dad... what if they're not there?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't. Don't think like that."

"But-"

"If there is one thing I know about those Dixon brothers, it's that they always find a way to come back. They're kinda like a cockroach if you think about it. No matter how hard you try to kill them, they just keep coming back." Rick explained with a soft chuckle causing you to smile.

"Especially Merle. He's the slipperiest cockroach of them all. Getting shot by the Governor didn't stop him from coming back." Michonne added.

That was true. They always did find a way back. Even when Merle went after the Governor all those months ago and Daryl tracked him down by himself, they both came back. Merle was bleeding from a gunshot wound, but he still made it back. They both did.

"Oh, dearie me." A males voice suddenly said.

That voice was close. Really fucking close.

You jumped to your feet in an instant, pulling out your handgun and rushing to the car where Dean and Carl were, to protect them from whoever had snuck up on you guys. However, you only reached the hood of the car before a man suddenly stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path.

You quickly pointed your gun at him, but he didn't seem threatened in the slightest. Instead, he started to grin from ear to ear, showing off his crooked yellow teeth under the moonlight.

"You screwed up, asshole. You hear me? You screwed up." The same voice from earlier said.

You spared a quick glance over your shoulder and your stomach dropped when you realised how many of them there were. You were outnumbered, and out gunned.

A man wearing what looked to be a biker denim vest was leaning beside Rick. He had a handgun pressed to your father’s temple while one man stood behind Michonne, a gun to her head and two others stood across the campfire, some kind of assault rifles in their hands and aimed at the three of you.

You quickly turned back to the big man in front of you, his sickening grin still as wide and as disturbing as before.

"Today is a day of reckoning, sir. Restitution. A balancing of the whole damn universe." The man who you figured was the leader continued to say.

"Everyone drop your guns, or I shoot your buddy between the eyes." You threatened, finger resting on the trigger as you took a step to the side so you could see everyone else as well as keeping your sights on the big man.

The leader glanced over at you in clear amusement before he looked back down at your father.

"You might wanna tell your girl over there to lower her gun."

Rick didn't dare move his head, not when the tip of a barrel was still pressed against his temple, but his wide panicked eyes shifted over to you.

You yanked your hunting knife from the sheath on your belt and swapped hands with your gun. Within a blink of an eye, the blade of your knife was pressed to the big man’s neck and your handgun was in your non-dominant hand and aimed at their leader.

"You might wanna lower yours first." You shot back.

The man laughed, but it wasn't a normal laugh, it was forced, it was angry, and you didn't like it.

"We have you five to one."

You tilted your head, "I like those odds."

The man seemed taken back by your words, but before he could say or do anything, a voice you feared that you'd never hear again suddenly cut through the still night air.

"Joe!"

Daryl Dixon suddenly stepped out from the woods across the road, his crossbow hanging loosely in his hand by his side. He wasn't looking at this 'Joe' though, his eyes were glued to yours and yours only.

Those ocean blues were torn between relief and panic before he looked over at Rick, eyeing the gun to his head cautiously.

"Hold up. Just hold up." Daryl continued to say.

"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothing to talk about." One of the guys across the campfire suddenly said.

"The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time. Say your piece, Daryl." The leader -Joe- instructed.

"These people, you're gonna let 'em go. These are good people."

"Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I'll, of course, have to speak for him and all 'cause your friend here strangled him in a bathroom." Joe responded.

Oh, crap.

Rick had told you about that, but you didn't think the guy’s group would track you down.

"You want blood, I get it." Daryl said, dropping his crossbow before holding his arms out to the side. "Take it from me, man. Come on."

What the hell was he doing? Was he trying to get himself killed?

"This man killed our friend. You say he's good people. See, now that right there is a lie. It's a lie!"

Suddenly one of the men turned on Daryl and slammed the butt of his rifle into your husband’s stomach. Daryl doubled over with a grunt of pain before the other man joined in and they both started to punch him.

"Teach him, fellas. Teach him all the way." Joe encouraged.

"No!" You screamed, shifting the sights of your gun at the two men attacking Daryl.

You were so focused on those other men, you had momentarily forgotten about the big man beside you. The blade of your hunting knife had shifted away from his neck, and he used your distraction to his advantage.

Within a blink of an eye, the big man yanked the knife from your grasp before grabbing you by your wild hair and throwing you backwards. There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from hitting the bitumen, hard. The gun tumbled from your hand as you landed on your side, skidding across the road from the sheer force of the throw.

Road rash covered your left arm. Your skin broken and bleeding, but you couldn't feel it. You weren't sure if you could feel it even if you wanted to because you were zeroed in on one thing, and one thing only, the big man who was now opening the car door to get to Dean and Carl.

"No!" You screamed, springing to your feet and slamming the man into the car door, effectively shutting it in the process.

You could hear Dean crying from inside the vehicle and you spared a quick glance through the window to find Carl holding your son trying to comfort him.

"Fucking bitch." The man hissed, his head apparently heaving hit the roof of the car from your shove as he turned to face you, his nose now heavily bleeding.

Oh, he was angry.

There was nothing you could do to stop the hand that came your way. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and swung you around before pinning you against the hood of the car.

You grunted at the hard impact and tried to thrash out of his grip, but he had stepped up against you, his body pinning you down against the hood, making it impossible to move.

"You leave her be!" Rick furiously shouted in the background somewhere, but there was nothing he could do.

The other two men were still beating Daryl over the other side of the car. You couldn't see him from where you were, but you could hear the punches and grunts. They were going to beat him to death.

You tried to kick the man out from behind you, you tried to throw your elbow back to hit him, but he had you pinned down well. You weren't getting out of this.

"Listen, it was me. It was just me!" Rick continued to shout.

"See, that's right. That's not some damn lie." Joe responded. "Look, we can settle this. We're reasonable men. First, we're gonna beat Daryl to death. Then we'll have your two girls. Then the boys. Then I'm gonna shoot you and then we'll be square."

Nope. That is not going to happen.

You thrashed against the hood of the car, trying again to get free and although it was pointless, you kept trying.

"Stop your squirming." He laughed from behind you, his hand reaching up and starting to lift your shirt.

"Get the fuck off me!" You yelled, but that only made the man laugh even more.

Suddenly, a gunshot fired nearby, halting the man's hand on your shirt instantly. Dread filled your stomach as you tilted your head to the side in fear, expecting the worst.

Joe took a stumbling step away from Rick, holding his bloodied nose, and it wasn't hard to figure out that your father must have headbutted him. Rick quickly got to his feet and punched Joe, but Joe punched him back just as hard, sending your father to the ground in one hit.

"I got him." Joe declared, reassuring his men before he kicked Rick in the stomach. "Oh, it's gonna be so much worse now. Come on, get up!"

The hood of the car suddenly shifted under you, and you looked up to find Daryl now being pinned against it on the other side, the men still punching him repeatedly.

"No! Stop!" You screamed, watching helplessly as he got beat.

"Get away from her before I-" Rick started to shout before Joe cut him off.

"What the hell are you gonna do now, sport?"

You yanked and thrashed in the man’s grip as you looked back over at your father to find Joe now practically hugging Rick to his chest, pinning him down. You, Daryl and Rick now all pinned down while Michonne sat with a gun trained to her head.

This was it.

This was how it ended.

Then, Rick suddenly bit down into Joe's throat causing the man to cry out in pain before Rick pulled his head back, taking out a chunk of flesh from Joe's neck. Blood sprayed everywhere from the literal hole in his neck before his body dropped to the ground.

Rick spat the mouthful out, blood dripping down his mouth, staining his beard and the once white woollen collar of his jacket a bright crimson red.

The man behind you had stopped, clearly having watched the whole thing happen too. Your father stood there for a moment, staring down at Joe's body, clearly shocked with what he had just done.

Michonne and Daryl were quick to use the bad guy’s distraction to their advantage, taking them down easily. The man holding you suddenly dug his fingers into the back of your dirty blonde hair and yanked you off the hood of the car before holding you in front of him, pressing the blade of your own hunting to knife to your throat.

Great, he was using your own knife against you.

Michonne quickly pointed her gun at him, but the guy was using you as a human shield. She was a good shot, but you did not trust her enough to take this kind of shot.

"Let her go." She ordered, glaring at the man behind you.

His grip only tightened on you, the knife digging into your neck a little harder causing you to wince.

"He's mine." Rick growled.

Your father suddenly marched straight past Michonne and the man behind you gasped in fear, his body now trembling as he stared at Ricks animalistic rageful eyes.

Suddenly, the man let go of you, pushing you back into the car as he took a few shaky steps backwards as if to surrender before Rick speared his knife straight into his neck.

You quickly stepped in front of the car door window, blocking Dean and Carl's view of your father. You found yourself unable to look away as Rick yanked the knife out before slicing it through his neck once again, blood gushing out the wounds like a waterfall.

"Y/N? Sweetheart, shit, are you okay? Sweetheart, are you okay?" Daryl's voice suddenly questioned before he appeared in front of you, snapping your attention away from your father.

Daryl's face was a mess with reddening bruises and blood, but he didn't seem phased by his own injuries. He was too busy scanning your body up and down, searching you for injuries. His eyes hovered over your left arm which you hadn't even looked yet, but you knew it wasn't bad.

You could still hear Rick stabbing the man behind Daryl. The sound of the blade slicing through flesh and blood irreplaceable in the now silent night. He just kept stabbing, and stabbing, and stabbing the man, but you didn't try to stop him. He needed to unleash his anger somehow, so you let him go.

Daryl's blue eyes met yours with a questioning look, and you realised that all this time, you hadn't said anything or answered his questions. You had been too caught up in your own head to notice.

"I-I'm okay." You stuttered, still a little shaken after everything that just happened. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, but you knew that was bullshit. By tomorrow morning his face was going to be covered in bruises, but you knew Daryl was no stranger to that.

Rick eventually stood up and dropped the blood laced knife to the ground before he glanced over at you, and you met your fathers gaze over Daryl's shoulder.

His eyes had a faraway look about them, like he wasn't entirely there after what he had just did, but there was a flash of concern amongst the rage brewing inside of him.

"I'm good. Dad, I swear. I'm okay." You reassured, knowing that was what he was worried about.

Rick hesitated for a second, like he wasn't sure if he should believe you or not before he glanced at Daryl and seemed to realise that you were in capable hands before he simply nodded and turned away, walking off into the woods.

"Wait-" You quickly said, side stepping around Daryl to go after him before Michonne grabbed your shoulder.

"Let him go. He needs to cool down. He'll be back."

You wanted to disagree with that. Not liking the thought of him being out there alone in the dark after all of this, but you knew Michonne was right, your father wouldn't have walked off if he didn't need the space, you had to respect that.

Michonne gave you a small reassuring smile before she walked over to the car and opened the door. Carl was quick to climb out, and instantly hugged the other woman. Michonne seemed taken back by the sudden display of affection, but she quickly hugged him nonetheless.

Little Dean fearfully stuck his head out the car door and you quickly dropped to your knees in front of him, taking in his tear-streaked face and terrified eyes.

God, you hoped he hadn't seen all of that.

"Holy shit, Dean!" Daryl gasped, shock and utter relief filling his voice.

Deans scared eyes suddenly lit up hearing his father's voice and his head snapped up in Daryl's direction, those little almond shaped hazel eyes widening into saucers.

"Daddy!"

Your heart melted watching Dean climb out the car and practically throw himself into Daryl's arms who had only just crouched down before having to catch the five-year-old.

"H-how? I... I thought he was on the bus?" Daryl whispered, tilting his head up to you in shock, his eyes shimmering with tears before he looked back down at the boy in his arms. "I thought you were on the bus. 'N when I checked the bus and ya weren't there, I thought..."

He thought Dean was dead.

Daryl thought his son was dead. These past two weeks he had thought little Merle Dean was dead, but he wasn't He was right here, and you felt yourself tearing up just watching him hold his son.

"Wait." You suddenly said, realisation hitting you like a truck. "You checked the bus? Was Ricky still-"

Daryl smiled through his tears before he stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, cutting your sentence off.

You frowned in confusion and opened your mouth to ask what the fuck that was, but then you heard it.

"Mummy! Mummy!"

Your heart just about stopped at the familiar voice before you spun around to find Ricky running out from behind a tree across the road.

"Oh my God." You gasped, sprinting the remaining distance to your son before you bent down and lifted him up into your arms, hugging him tightly.

"Daddy told me to hide in the trees and to not come out until he whistled. I did it." Ricky said proudly, his little arms wrapped tightly around your neck.

"You did, baby. You did so good." You sobbed, unable to hold your tears back as you held him. "I missed you. I missed you so much."

"Ricky!" Dean suddenly squealed.

Hearing his little brothers voice had Ricky snapping into action. He let go of your neck and began to wriggle in your arms, wanting to be put down. The last thing you wanted to do was let go of him, but you forced yourself to do it as you gently lowered your eldest son to the ground.

The second his shoes hit the ground, he took off sprinting to the car where Daryl was still crouched, holding Dean, but he quickly released the other boy, and you watched through silent tears as the brothers reunited and entangled themselves together in a big hug.

Daryl got to his feet and walked back over to you, not saying a word before he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side. His warm, gentle hands were comforting, they were safe, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled before you leant your head against his shoulder.

Silent tears were still trickling down your face, your eyes glued to your sons who were hugging one another before you wrapped your arms around Daryl's stomach and hugged him too.

"We're okay, sweetheart. We're all okay." Daryl whispered, kissing the top of your head. "I love ya."

-

You awoke the following morning inside the safety of the car. Carl and Michonne were both passed out in the front seats while Ricky and Dean were curled up on the backseat, their heads resting in your lap.

"We should save it to drink." You heard your father say from somewhere outside the car.

"You can't see yourself, Y/N and the kids can." Came Daryl's reply.

You glanced out through the window of the car to find Rick sitting down against the front wheel of the car, using Daryl's red rag to wipe the dried blood from his face before Daryl sat down beside him.

You turned your attention back to the two boys in your lap, drowning out Daryl and Ricks conversation about Beth, who, by the sound of it, didn't make it.

Ricky began to stir a little in his sleep before his bright blue eyes fluttered open and he smiled sleepily at you.

"Hi, baby." You whispered, resting your hand on the side of his face and brushing his cheek with your thumb gently. "Go back to sleep. I'll wake you when it's time to go."

Ricky nodded ever so slightly before his eyes slipped shut again and he rolled over, shifting closer to his brother who was still out like a log.

"I knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple. Stupid, but it was something. It was enough." Daryl continued to say quietly from outside.

"And you were alone." Rick reminded him.

Carefully, you shifted your sons heads out of your lap before quietly opening your car door, not wanting to wake them or Michonne and Carl who seemed to be making the most of this rare sleep-in opportunity.

"They said they were lookin' for some guy. Last night they said they spotted him. I was hangin' back. I was gonna leave... but, I thought I heard Y/N shout. That's when I saw it was you guys. Right when ya saw me. I didn't know what they could do."

Daryl's voice was heavy with shame, the same way his guilt was weighing down upon his shoulders. He blamed himself for what happened. He felt responsible for it all.

"It's not on you, Daryl." Rick insisted, but Daryl refused to look at him. "Hey. It's not on you. You being back with us here, now, that's everything. You're my brother."

You quietly closed the car door behind yourself, successfully getting out without waking anyone before you walked around the vehicle to find the two of them still sitting against the front wheel and looking out at the woods ahead. Their poker faces were terrible, you could see the emotion washing over the two of them from that conversation, but neither of them wanted to show it.

"I think you mean, son-in-law." You piped up, trying to lighten the mood.

"Jesus." Rick exhaled with a chuckle as he tilted his head up towards you. "We were having a moment here."

"By sitting side-by-side and staring straight ahead? What a touching moment." You teased causing Daryl to snort softly in amusement. "You guys okay though?" You asked seriously.

They both gave you a small nod, although you suspected that neither of them would admit if they weren't okay, so it was a stupid question really.

You sat down beside Daryl, leaning your back against the frame of the car before reaching over and grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers together before shifting your hands into your lap.

Daryl didn't say anything, he simply let you hold his hand in silence as the three of you sat there together.

"Merle?" You asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Daryl shrugged, "went to get Ricky out the bus. By the time I came back, he was gone. Haven't seen him since."

Shit.

Daryl's head quickly turned to you, and you could practically see the light bulb shining brightly above his head at the sudden thought or idea he had just gotten.

He glanced over at Rick almost cautiously, but your father was too busy staring down at his blood-stained hands to notice the look. Daryl quickly turned back to you before mouthing the words, 'Judith?' and your heart shattered.

You bit your lip and silently shook your head, willing the tears you could feel coming to stay back as Daryl’s expression dropped. His own heart shattering, but he didn't say anything. He didn't react loudly, seeming to realise that it would be bad to bring that topic up in front of Rick.

"Merle is probably at Terminus." You suddenly said, wanting to change the topic to something positive.

"He will be, and we should get a move on if we wanna make it before sundown." Rick pointed out, and the two of you nodded in agreement.

-

Later that day, the group of you were walking straight into Terminus after hiding a duffle bag of weapons in the woods for backup. You wandered straight through the back gate without being stopped and entered some kind of old building where a group of people were seated at tables and seemed to be drawing up maps.

"Hello." Rick called out, announcing your presence.

Everyone in the room froze at the unexpected voice before a man sighed and dropped his paint brush onto the table.

"Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch. You here to rob us?"

"No. We wanted to see you before you saw us."

"Usually we do this where the tracks meet." The man continued to say, stepping out from around the table to walk over to you. "Welcome to Terminus. I'm Gareth."

You stood back in silence letting your father do all the talking with Gareth and before you knew it, a man named Alex was giving you all a guided tour around the community.

It wasn't until you got outside to what seemed to be an outdoor cafeteria type area, where someone was cooking a barbeque that it all came crashing down.

Michonne, Alex and the woman behind the barbeque were talking while you scanned your surroundings and the people in the area before your eyes landed on a man wearing prison armour.

Where the hell did he get that from?

You kept looking around, noting all the fresh gardens and tables set up under large umbrellas where a few people were sitting and eating. But then you saw something that you'd never misplace.

Daryl's poncho.

A woman sitting at one of those tables was wearing his poncho. It was his. You knew it was his because it had that little hole by the bottom left where Ricky had burnt it while playing with Uncle Merle's lighter without permission.

How the fuck did this random person get Daryl’s poncho? How did that other guy have prison riot armour?

Alarm bells were starting to go off in your head. All of this was just one giant red flag, and you couldn't ignore it.

You adjusted your hold on Dean who was resting on your hip before you took a step forward until you were between Daryl and Rick, both of them looking around the area on high alert.

"Not to alarm anyone, but that guy is in prison armour and that chick is wearing your poncho. How?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Both Daryl and Rick suddenly turned tense in realisation, their heads snapping in those people’s direction.

Okay, good. So, you weren’t just being paranoid. It isn't just a coincidence.

Rick suddenly marched forward just as Alex went to hand Michonne a plate of grilled meat. Your father smacked the food out Alex's hand and grabbed the man, wrapping his arm around Alex's neck and holding his back against his chest with a gun to the side of his head.

In an instant, you drew your handgun from the holster on your hip, aiming at other people in the area who had already raised their own weapons at the group of you.

"Ricky, behind me. Now." You ordered, not taking your eyes off the armed people in front of you.

You felt Ricky grab onto the back of your pants, hiding behind your legs before you glanced over at Daryl to find him with his crossbow raised, Michonne and Carl also following suit with their guns.

"Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick questioned, and you only just realised that he pulled out a silver pocket watch from Alex's pocket which you assumed belonged to someone at the prison.

"You want answers? You want anything else? You get them when you put down the gun." Alex responded.

"I see your man on the roof with a sniper rifle. How good's his aim?"

You quickly glanced over at the roof to find that there was in fact a man on the roof with a scoped rifle. Shit. How did you not notice him earlier?

You quickly shifted your sights onto the man on the roof, trusting Daryl, Michonne and Carl to have the others under control. Your fingers rested against the trigger as you aimed at him with one hand, the other firmly holding Dean to your side.

"Where did you get the watch?" Rick repeated sternly.

Alex began yelling at the sniper to lower the weapon and not do anything. To your surprise the man listened and lowered the sniper, but you kept your handgun aimed in his direction not taking any chances.

"I got it off a dead one. I didn't think he'd need it." Alex tried to say, his shaky hands raised in surrender, but Rick didn't remove the gun from the side of his head.

"What about the riot gear? The poncho?" You questioned, not bothering to look at the man as you spoke, keeping your sights on the sniper.

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop." Gareth's voice suddenly answered. You quickly spun around with your gun raised to find the other man standing directly behind you. "Found the poncho on a clothesline."

"Bullshit. That is my husband's poncho. Try again."

Gareth eyed you cautiously, staring down the barrel of your gun before he glanced over at Rick, dismissing you completely.

"What's there left to say? You don't trust us anymore." Gareth simply responded before turning his attention over to your father. "Rick, what do you want?"

You kept your gun trained on Gareth while Rick spoke with him before Gareth suddenly raised his hand to signal someone and Rick fired his gun without warning.

It all happened so quickly.

Dean and Ricky both screamed in fright, and you looked over at your father realising that he had just killed Alex. A second later, gunfire erupted, and you quickly turned around to shoot Gareth, but the man had vanished.

Shit.

You turned your body to the side, trying to shield Dean in your arms and Ricky hiding behind your body as you returned fire at the other people. Daryl suddenly picked up Ricky in his arms before you all took off running away from the gunfire.

Dean was whimpering in your arms, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You wanted to comfort him, to reassure him that everything would be okay, but with the bullets raining down on you, now was not the time for that.

After a few seconds of running, it became apparent that those people weren't shooting to kill you, they were shooting by your feet. They were shooting at the ground trying to herd you in whatever direction they wanted you to go in.

Oh, that couldn't be good.

"They want us to go this way. They're shooting at our feet!" You shouted above the gunfire.

"We don't have a choice, keep running!" Rick shouted back.

As suspected, they herded you guys like damn sheep in a pen and before you knew it, you were trapped out in the open between a tall, barbed wire fence and a large warehouse building, nothing but an old train cart to your left.

"Drop your weapons! Now!" Gareth shouted.

You looked up to find him now standing on the roof of the warehouse, another man beside him with an assault rifle aimed at you all.

Damnit, how the hell is this guy everywhere?

"Now!" He repeated when none of you moved.

You glanced around trying to find a way out, but you were trapped between the fence and warehouse that was lined with men with guns aimed at you all. There was nowhere to go.

Daryl looked over at you, his bruised but fearful eyes locking with yours before he dropped his crossbow to the ground and lowered Ricky down beside him. Rick looked between you all, his mind working overtime trying to think of a way out of this, but you knew there wasn't one.

Slowly, you lowered your handgun to the ground before putting Dean down as well, wanting your hands to be free in case you had to fight.

The second Dean was on the ground, Ricky rushed over before Daryl could stop him and he quickly grabbed his brother protectively and pulled him behind you, both of them grabbing onto the back of your pants for safety.

Rick, Michonne and Carl all lowered their weapons as well, none of them looking happy about it.

"Ringleader, go to your left. The train car, go." Gareth suddenly instructed.

There was a train cart on your left with the letter 'A' spray painted on the side. He wanted Rick to go inside there? Great, perfect. This was not going to end well.

"You do what we say, the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies, and you end up in there anyway." Gareth further explained, noticing your fathers hesitation.

Rick glanced over at you and Carl for a brief moment, giving you both a small nod before he began to walk towards the train cart.

"Now the archer."

Like Rick, Daryl hesitated. He didn't want to leave you and the boys out here when there were several men on roofs with guns aimed directly at you. You gave him a small nod of encouragement, despite not wanting him to leave you either. But you also knew that if you pissed off Gareth and didn't do as he said, it wouldn’t end well.

Daryl sighed, but started to follow Rick.

"Now the samurai." Gareth instructed a few seconds later. Michonne glared up at him but obeyed. "Stand at the door, ringleader, archer, samurai, in that order."

"My kids!" Rick shouted, not taking his eyes off you and Carl as Daryl and Michonne lined up behind him in front of the door to the train cart.

Gareth looked back down at you and although it was hard to see his face from all the way up on the roof of the warehouse, you could see that he was grinning.

"I am not going anywhere without these boys." You stated sternly, your hands behind your back, holding onto your sons as you glanced over at Carl who took a few steps closer to you, his brown eyes filled with terror.

"Relax, mama bear. You and the three boys can go."

Carl quickly grabbed Ricky’s hand while you picked up Dean and you hurriedly walked in the direction of the train cart.

"Ringleader, open the door and go in." Gareth shouted from the roof.

"I'll go in with them." Rick shouted back, not taking his eyes off you and Carl as you walked over to them.

"Don't make us kill the girl now."

Ricks face twisted in anger. He glanced at the door to the train cart before glancing back at you, not wanting to go inside when you and Carl weren't there yet, but seemed to realise he didn't have a choice.

You watched as Rick climbed up the steps before he pulled open the door to the train cart before stepping inside, Daryl and Michonne following before you and Carl reached the steps.

"Go." You said, nodding at Carl to go inside first.

He nodded, his hand still holding Ricky’s as he slowly walked up the steps with his nephew and stepped inside before you followed. Daryl instantly stepped in front of you, his hand cupping the side of your face before he looked down at Dean in your arms when suddenly the door behind you slammed shut.

It was dark inside. The only light was streaming in through the small gaps in the door barely lighting up the cart. You could see Daryl in front of you though, his eyes never leaving yours, like he had been afraid that he would never see you again after getting momentarily separated.

"It's okay." You whispered, grabbing his hand with your free one before glancing over at Ricky who was still clutching Carl’s hand tightly.

"Rick?" A voice suddenly questioned.

Wait. That voice... you knew that voice.

You turned around and had to do a double take when a couple figures stepped out from the shadows at the far end of the train cart and your jaw dropped when you realised who they were.

Glenn and Maggie.

Holy shit, they were alive.

"You're here." Rick responded, sounding as shocked as you were.

A few other people suddenly emerged from the darkness, two familiar faces, Sasha and Bob, but the other men and women were strangers, although Maggie and Glenn didn't seem worried about them.

"They're our friends. They helped save us." Maggie explained, like she could somehow read your mind.

"Yeah." Daryl nodded, his hand still holding yours. "Now they're friends of ours."

"For however long that'll be." The big redhaired man muttered, shaking his head before he turned away.

"No." Rick stated, shaking his head causing the man to turn back towards him. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

Your father walked over to the door, peaking through the small gap as the redhaired man stepped forward, "find out what?"

“They're screwing with the wrong people."

-

Nobody slept a wink that night, minus Ricky and Dean. Those little boys could sleep anywhere if they wanted to. The rest of you stayed up talking, Daryl telling Maggie about Beth, Glenn introducing you to Tara, Rosita, Abraham and Eugene.

They seemed like decent people, Eugene was a little strange, but was nice enough and Maggie and Glenn vouched for them, so that was all you cared about.

The group of you made weapons out of anything that you could. Gareth had apparently stripped the others of all their weapons, but you still had your hunting knife on your belt and pocketknife. The knives were used to carve wood out from the side of the cart, shaving off the tips and making them into weapons.

Carl helped as well, but also sat in the corner with Ricky and Dean, keeping your boy’s company and trying to distract them from how scary this whole thing must be for them.

"Alright, got four of 'em pricks comin' our way." Daryl announced from where he was keeping watch through the gap in the door.

"Ricky, Dean, you two stay right there, okay? Don't move." You instructed, looking over at your boys who were still sitting in the corner.

They both nodded, but Ricky must have sensed the urgency in your voice because he reached over and grabbed his little brother’s hand to make sure Dean didn't try and move.

You turned back to Daryl who had stepped away from the door, and you handed him your hunting knife. He took it with a nod of appreciation before you pulled out your pocketknife, flicking the blade out with your thumb.

"Y'all know what to do. Go for their eyes first. Then their throats." Rick instructed.

"Put your backs to the walls on either end of the car, now!" A male’s voice shouted from outside.

None of you listened. You all huddled around the door with your weapons raised ready to attack the second that door got pulled open. But then a hatch suddenly opened in the roof, daylight streaming down at you all.

You squinted at the bright light, unable to see what was up there before something suddenly fell through the hole and clanged onto the ground. You looked down in confusion and your stomach dropped when you saw the silver device by your feet.

Oh, fuck.

"Move!" Abraham's voice boomed through the cart.

Daryl grabbed your arm, yanking you away from the canister before shielding your body with his just as it exploded with a loud bang.

The force of the explosion sent you and Daryl to the ground. Your body crashed into the hard floor. In the back of your mind, you acknowledged that the explosive had been some kind of stun or gas grenade and nothing lethal, but that little piece of information was useless right now as you laid on the ground quite literally stunned and ears ringing loudly.

You blinked, trying to get your head straight as you glanced around, the entire cart filled with white smoke as you cough and spluttered. Your vision was blurry, but you could see Daryl lying on the ground beside you, not fairing much better.

Your body wouldn’t cooperate as you tried to move, your limps feeling numb as you tilted your head to the side and allowed yourself to relax slightly when you spotted your sons across the cart. Ricky was covering Deans body with his own, shielding his little brother from the explosion.

Suddenly, the door to the cart slid open, and you watched helplessly as a group of men marched inside and started to drag some of you out.

"Daddy!" Dean cried, peeking out from behind Ricky to see his father being hauled away by the men in riot armour.

"No!" You yelled, staggering up onto shaky feet and reaching for Daryl who seemed to be unconscious in the man’s arms. "Let him go!"

You rushed forward, your head spinning and ears still ringing from the explosion, but then something hard slammed into the side of your head and the last thing you heard was Rick screaming, "don't touch her!" before everything turned black.

-

"My dad's gonna be back. They all are."

That was the first thing you registered when you started to wake up. The second being what sounded like screams and gunfire in the distance.

What the hell was going on?

"They are. And we need to get ready to fight when they do." A different voice said. A voice you knew.

Maggie.

Slowly, you blinked your eyes open to find that you were laying on the floor of the train cart with two sets of familiar eyes looking down at you in worry.

"Mummy! You're awake!" Dean said happily, plonking himself down on top of you in a hug.

You grunted at the sudden impact before Ricky hugged you as well and you laid there for a moment and wrapped your arms around your sons holding them against your chest.

They were okay. Your boys were okay.

Maggie suddenly stepped into your line of sight, hovering above you almost worriedly.

"What happened?" You asked, your voice coming out weaker than you expected before you cleared your throat and tried again. "What happened?"

"They took Glenn, Rick, Daryl and Bob. But there was an explosion not long ago and now it sounds like a war outside. We're not sure what's going on. Can you stand?"

Ricky must have been listening because he suddenly let you go before he grabbed his brother and pulled him off you, giving you room to sit up as you looked around. The others were all sitting and standing around, everyone's eyes on you.

You could hear the sound of walkers above the rapid gunfire, their distinct growls and snarls coming from outside the train cart.

Maggie held her hand out and helped you to your feet before Carl walked over and handed your pocketknife back to you which he must have found on the ground.

"Thanks." You said, taking the knife before suddenly the door to the train cart opened and Rick stood in the doorway.

"Come on! Fight to the fence!" He shouted, briefly looking at you all before he turned and began shooting walkers with what appeared to be an AK-47 in his hands.

Where the hell did he get that from?

Everyone hurried out through the open door before you could even move, but Daryl pushed past them and stepped inside the cart, his wide panicked eyes frantically searching the small space before he saw you standing beside the kids.

"You good?" He quickly asked, rushing forward and grabbing the side of your face, gently tilting your head to the side to look at the bruise on your forehead from the hit that knocked you out.

You grabbed his hand and lowered it from your face, "I'm good. Let's get out of here."

Daryl nodded, before he picked up Dean in his arms and you grabbed Ricky’s hand with your free one and you rushed out the train cart where the others were fighting the herd of walkers.

Shit, there were a lot of them.

"Y/N!" Rick's voice suddenly shouted.

You looked up and only just had enough time to catch the assault rifle he tossed your way.

"You hold onto the back of my shirt, and you don't let go, understand?" You instructed, looking down at Ricky who frantically nodded, grabbing the bottom of your shirt in a vice like grip.

Daryl was taking out walkers with a metal pipe in one hand while holding Dean to his chest with the other and you quickly raised your rifle and began shooting at the walkers, taking them out one by one.

"This way! C'mon!" Your fathers voice shouted.

The group of you ploughed your way through the herd of the dead, clearing a path until you reached the tall, barred wire fence that lined the community. Abraham and Rosita found an old blanket and threw it over the top of the fence to cover the sharp barbs.

Everyone began throwing themselves over the tall fence with Abraham’s help.

"You keep shooting, I'll get Ricky over the fence." Michonne instructed.

You glanced over your shoulder and nodded at your son to go with Michonne who quickly picked him up and rushed over to the fence where Daryl was lifting Dean over to someone on the other side.

Satisfied that your boys were in safe hands, you turned around to find a group of men appearing up on the rooftops of the warehouse, giving you deja vu.

"Y/N!" Your father shouted for backup, raising his rifle towards the men.

"I see them." You responded, wedging the butt of the rifle into your shoulder before you looked through the scope.

The crosshairs were moving all over the place as you tried to hold the gun still, but your hands were shaking too much, so you just squeezed the trigger and shot in their general direction. It seemed to work though because after a few seconds, they were all dead.

You and Rick turned your sights onto the walkers that were getting closer and closer, their rotten bodies stumbling through the courtyard towards you all.

You began to shoot at them too, trying to buy the others time to get over the fence before your gun suddenly clicked, the bullets no longer firing.

"I'm out of ammo!" You called out, dropping the rifle and drawing your pocketknife back out.

"Get over the fence, I'll cover you!" Rick shouted, stepping in front of you protectively while he kept shooting at the walkers.

You hurried back over to the fence just as Abraham helped the last person over and you glanced over your shoulder, "Dad, c'mon!"

Abraham helped you over the fence, making quick work of it before you landed on the other side where the others were all waiting. Rick landed beside you a moment later, stumbling a little failing to get his footing before you grabbed the collar of his jacket and steadied him.

"Thanks." He sighed, breathlessly, resting his hand over yours just as Abraham hauled himself over the fence too.

You glanced over to find Daryl holding Dean while Ricky stood beside him, holding his free hand before you glanced around at the others, relieved that everyone was okay.

Daryl led you all through the woods, tracking your old footprints from yesterday before he found where Rick had buried the bag of weapons. While your father dug up the bag, he argued with Abraham and the others about what to do next, but their arguing came to a quick stop when footsteps approached you all from behind.

You turned around quickly and reached for your knife, but froze when you saw that it was Carol.

Holy shit, she was alive.

Daryl was the first to react, putting his son down before rushing over and hugging her. You let out a small chuckle of disbelief, unable to believe she was alive as you walked over to her.

"I'm so glad you're okay." You said.

"I'm glad you guys are okay." She replied, looking between you and Daryl with a big smile before she glanced at someone over your shoulder.

"Did you do that?"

You turned around at your father’s voice to find him motioning back in the direction of Terminus and suddenly it all made sense. The explosion that Maggie told you about, that was Carol.

Carol nodded before Rick pulled her into a hug and you smiled watching the two of them reunite.

"She had a little help!"

Merle Dixon suddenly emerged from the woods, and you found yourself paralysed to the spot in pure disbelief. He was alive. Holy shit, he was alive and him and Carol had just saved your lives.

"Uncle Merle!" Ricky and Dean both squealed.

Your kids seemed to process this information quicker than anyone else because within a flash, they were sprinting over to their uncle. Merle grinned, kneeling down with his arms out just as your sons threw themselves into his embrace causing Merle to chuckle.

"Have you two grown since I last saw ya? Look how big you are! You're gonna be out huntin' with me in no time." Merle exclaimed, hugging his nephews tightly before he tilted his head up towards you and Daryl, and a relieved smile spread across his face.

"Jesus, man. I thought you were dead." Daryl muttered, trying not to show how much he really cared, but you could hear the emotion in his voice.

Merle just grinned, letting go of his nephews before he stood up and took a few steps towards his brother. The two of them stared at each other for a moment before Merle shook his head and pulled Daryl into a tight hug.

"Ain't nothin' can kill me, little brother." Merle reassured, patting Daryl's back before he glanced over at you. "Y/N, get your freckled face over here 'n give ya brother-in-law a hug."

You rolled your eyes at his choice of words, but walked over anyway just as Merle lifted one of his arms off Daryl and pulled you into the family hug. You closed your eyes and hugged the two of them, allowing yourself a moment to let your guard down as you stood in the safety of their arms.

"Dixon, is that you?" Abraham suddenly called out.

Wait, what?

You and Daryl pulled away from Merle in confusion to find Merle looking just as confused as he looked in the direction of the voice to find Abraham slowly walking towards him.

"Ford?" Merle questioned in shock.

A giant smile broke out across the redhead’s face, and if you weren't mistaken, that was the first time you had ever seen the man smile.

"Son of a dick, it's really you." Abraham exclaimed, holding his hand out.

Merle grinned, taking Abraham’s hand before they pulled each other into a quick hug-pat thing that guys seemed to always do.

"Wait, you two know each other?" You asked, looking between them in confusion.

The two of them pulled apart and Merle nodded, "we sure do. I know him from my army days."

"Bro, you got kicked out the army." Daryl pointed out causing Merle to glare at him, but there was no real heat behind it.

"We were in Basic together." Abraham supplied, still smiling brightly. "Man, remember all the shit we used to get up to?"

Merle grinned, "remember that night when we-"

"Whoa, is this story PG rated?" You quickly asked, glancing over at Ricky and Dean who were looking up at Abraham and Merle like they were the most fascinating people on this planet.

"None of Abrahams army stories are PG rated." Rosita spoke up, shooting the redhead a smirk. "We should probably get going. I don't wanna be near that place when those walkers get out."

Yeah, she had a fair point.

"You have to come with me." Carol quickly said, pointily looking at Rick as she spoke before she suddenly turned around and began walking off through the woods.

"She's right. C'mon, Officer Friendly, you're gonna love this." Merle announced, turning and following Carol.

You glanced over at your father in confusion who met your gaze with equal amounts of confusion, but you just shrugged your shoulders before the group of you all followed the two of them through the woods.

Eventually you reached a small dirt road which you then followed, neither Carol nor Merle elaborating any further about where you were going, until you spotted an old wooden cabin in the distance. The door to the cabin opened a moment later and your jaw dropped when Tyreese stepped out with baby Judith in his arms.

Rick made a sort of strangled gasping sound in the back of his throat beside you before he quickly pulled his rifle off his shoulders, holding it out in your general direction. He couldn't speak, but you didn't need him to as you took his gun before he sprinted down the dirt road.

Carl ran after your father and tears started to blur your vision as you watched Tyreese hand over your baby sister to them before Sasha jogged over engulfing her brother into a tight hug.

The rest of you all slowly walked over to them. Merle was holding both Dean and Ricky in his arms while he chatted away with Abraham. Your sons refusing to leave their uncles side, but Merle didn't seem to mind.

Daryl slung his arm over your shoulder, and you rested your head against his chest and wiped the tears from your eyes as Rick handed Judith to Carl.

"Thank you." Your father said, turning to Tyreese.

"Don't thank me, man. Dixon was the one that saved her back at the prison."

Everyone's head snapped in Merle’s direction who was too busy talking with Abraham to hear what was going on, but he noticed the sudden attention because he stopped whatever he was saying and looked around at everyone in confusion.

"What?"

"You saved Judith." Rick stated, like he couldn't quite believe it was true.

"Yeah, I did," Merle nodded seriously, glancing over at the baby girl in Carls arms before he chuckled. "And you lot doubted my baby-sitting ability."

You rolled your eyes, "that is because you keep teaching my sons bad language. We don't want Judith’s first word to be asshole."

"Well, someone's gotta be the fun uncle. It sure as shit ain't gonna be Mr. Goodie Two-shoes over there." Merle responded pointing at Glenn. "No offence, man."

Glenn laughed softly, "no, that's fair."

"I think I like Glenn better. He hasn't taught those boys anything bad." You pointed out, giving Glenn a small appreciative nod.

"Wait, wait, what about that day Glenn gave Ricky the lighter?" Maggie suddenly reminded.

"I swear, I didn't think he'd try and set that poncho on fire." Glenn said defensively.

"That was you?" You gasped, looking over at Glenn who had the decency to look guilty. "I've been blaming Merle for the past two months."

Daryl snorted softly from beside you, "to be fair, it is usually always Merle who does stupid shit."

"I am standing right here." Merle exclaimed, pretending to take offence to the whole conversation causing you all to start laughing.

"Hold on, I'm confused." Rosita suddenly said, looking between your family. "Rick is your father, but he is also Carl and that baby’s father, and Daryl is your husband, and those boys are you sons?"

You chuckled softly, "yeah, pretty much."

"Oh, okay. That makes total sense." Tara nodded sarcastically.

"It's okay, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it and I've known them for a while now." Michonne piped up causing you all to start laughing again.

"We need to go." Rick announced once the laughing had stopped.

You looked over at your father to find him staring at the smoke in the distance. The community of Terminus still burning from the explosion Carol and Merle had caused.

"Yeah, but where?" Daryl asked, his arm still over your shoulder.

"Somewhere far away from there."

-

Next Chapter

-

MASTERLIST pinned to profile

Commissions open! Link in bio & DM for enquiries ❤️

[wooataes]

Pretty Coincidences (Part One)

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: Strangers to ??? AU, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of plane crashes, swearing

Summary: Choosing to run away from your problems on an impromptu trip to Italy may be the best decision you’ve made in your life thus far.

A/N: a belated birthday fic for the beautiful Jeonghan and also a belated birthday fic for my fave Carat friend Zan 💜

Masterlist

Part Two?

To say you were heartbroken was an understatement.

You feel almost dead inside as you sit in the backseat of your Uber, unshed tears tempting you to break the flood gates. How the fuck did you get here, in an Uber on the way to Incheon Airport running away from your responsibilities and problems?

The answer was Geumjae.

Forty eight hours ago, you were happy. You were happy and in love with your seemingly loving boyfriend of four years, Geumjae, in the talks of buying an apartment together and Geumjae planning to pop the question to you this coming Christmas in front of both your families. That was, until, you decided to take the afternoon off from your office job, feeling unwell and in all honesty, wanted the comfort of your boyfriend and your bed.

Instead of finding your loving boyfriend making soup for you in your apartment, you were greeted to the sounds of aggressive lovemaking coming from your personal bedroom. That scumbag was using YOUR bed in YOUR apartment to sleep with other women?! No fucking way.

Now, you’re not a pushover or a pussy. On the contrary, you proved to yourself that you’re the opposite; storming into your bedroom and throwing out your new ex boyfriend and his flimsy little side-piece, who you vaguely recognized as your now ex-best friend, who was trying to stammer some sort of apology. You didn’t hear her as she spoke though, only throwing both him and her out of your apartment with nothing but the clothes on their backs, which at that moment, was none at all, leaving them to rush to his car as quick as possible without being seen, as you curled up on the living room floor in hysterics.

After a long night of tears, a whole tub of ice cream, half a bottle of wine and burnt clothes, photos and bedsheets, at the ripe time of 2:43am, you feel the sadness within you seep into a seething anger.

Screw this guy! You don’t need him! You can do a lot better and deserve someone who will love and treat you right! Who else can treat you better than yourself?

In a half-tipsy wine drunk state, you grab your laptop and start typing travel options in your search bar.

You had always dreamed of wanting to go on a trip to see Italy ever since you met Geumjae, and for four long draining years, your requests were always rebuffed with a ‘I can’t afford it’ or ‘why don’t we try local?’ Well screw that. You’re newly free and have the funds saved, as well as PTO from your job. After sending a long and misspelled message to your boss, you rise from your spot on the floor to march into your room to pack your bags.

Forty eight hours later, you were miserable, angry and betrayed by two of the closest people you know, but you also felt surprisingly free, as if a weight had been lifted off your chest as you stepped inside Incheon Airport to make your way to your flight to Italy.

You settle into your seat with a tired sigh. For once, you’re actually happy you got seated in an Emergency Exit row. You’re not as enclosed as the others which means more leg room, and instead of having two people beside you, you only have one. Double win. The less people you have to interact with, the better. You hope that the unlucky person who was destined to be sat beside you isn’t a talker; hopefully they are just as tired and done with the world as you.

You take a quick glance at your reflection from your front facing phone camera, wincing at the miserable girl you faced. Your hair is pulled back into a ponytail, several strands having found their way out of the loose hair tie securing your locks and falling over your shoulders haphazardly. You have massive bags under your eyes, which isn’t surprising since you have barely slept since you found your trash ex. You hope that you’ll be able to catch up on your sleep during the twelve hour flight to Italy.

After heaving another sleepy sigh, you lift your head to the side to see a hooded figure placing a bag into the overhead locker before sitting down carefully beside you and pulling his hood back to ruffle his fluffed up hair out of his eyes. Your cheeks tinge a dusty pink as you take in the mystery man’s handsome good looks, suddenly feeling self conscious at your appearance. After giving the gorgeous man a small smile in greeting, (which he returns without hesitation) you shrink slightly into your seat, your brain beginning to work overtime as you feel an overwhelming urge to apologize about your half assed looks. The man is in an almost identical outfit to yours, but you can’t help but resent your new seatmate at how much better he looks than you. Then again, he probably hasn’t had his heart ripped out of his chest and then stomped on by his ex-girlfriend within the last two days. You were so consumed in your own self deprecating thoughts you didn’t notice the pretty man looking at you expectantly.

“Sorry, did you say something?” You blink, eyes wide.

“That’s okay.” The man smiles. You blush. Dang, why did he have to be so pretty? “I was just asking if you had enough room there.” He gestures to the armrest between you both. “I can scoot over a little bit if you need.”

“O-oh.” You stutter, shaking your head quickly. “No, you’re fine, really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” You nod, giving him a little smile. “I will apologize in advance though, I am 100% going to sleep for this flight.”

“Damn,” he sighs dramatically. You tilt your head in questioning. “You’re going to sleep and let me be the only one to have to save the plane and all these passengers if a disaster happens?”

You’re caught off guard as a giggle passes your lips, your smile growing as the man chuckles with you. You didn’t know how badly you needed to have a laugh.

“I do apologize,” you hum. “But getting my beauty rest is more important than the well-being of the plane.”

It’s the stranger’s turn to laugh along with you, and you feel relieved that the joke lands.

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind.” He nods thoughtfully. “Did you need to be woken from your beauty rest when the meals come by?”

You blink in surprise. How thoughtful. “Uhh.. if it’s no trouble?”

“None at all.” He’s surprisingly chirpy at this hour of the morning. “We are the backbone of this flight. We need to keep our strength up.” He winks at you and smiles as you laugh again.

“Fair point.” You nod gently as you fasten your seatbelt, the flight crew beginning to prepare you for takeoff.

You wait for a moment to see if Pretty Man will continue the conversation, but when he settles in and starts looking for movies on his tv, you let your eyes flutter shut, sleep taking over you before you even feel the plane take off.

You feel yourself being shaken gently an hour later as you stir, rubbing at your eyes with a little yawn. Pretty Man is smiling warmly at you.

“Hey.” He mumbles. “Sorry, they’re giving out breakfast.”

“S’fine.” You yawn again, smiling politely at the flight attendant as she passes your meal over. “Thanks for waking me, uhh..”

“Jeonghan.” Pretty Man - Jeonghan offers, and you nod with a little smile. “You’re welcome…”

“Y/N.”

Your eyes open slowly, yawning out as you start to take in your surroundings around you, the PA system announcing that the descent into Rome will begin within the hour. You sit up slightly and run at your eyes tiredly. Your eyelids still feel heavy, but after having slept for a solid 10 hours, only having been woken up from Jeonghan to eat in between with minimal conversation, you feel like you’ve rested enough.

“Did you manage to keep the plane in one piece while I slept?” You joke, Jeonghan chuckling in response.

“Only barely.” He sighed dramatically, hand on his chest. “I think you owe me for the next flight.”

“I think I do.” You humor him as he laughed.

“So, what brings you to Italy?” He asks after a moment of silence as you glance out the little window beside you.

“Mid-life crisis?” You offer with a laugh. Jeonghan only raises his eyebrows in concern. “Long story short,” you start fiddling with your fingers, nibbling your lip. “Just got out of a long term relationship and I’m long overdue for a holiday. So, I just packed up and left for Rome to forget about the real world for a while.” You wince, not even looking at Jeonghan to know that he’s giving you a look of pure pity.

“Wow, I’m sorry to hear that.” He frowns.

“Ah, it’s fine.” You shrug. It wasn’t. Not in the slightest. “Was probably for the best.” You’re lying, you know you are. “What about you?”

“Ah,” he rubs at the back of his neck. “A friend of mine offered for me to go on a trip here with him. He flew out a few days ago, so I’m meeting him here.”

“That sounds exciting.” You smile as he hums in agreement.

“Definitely.” He smiles back. “Well, I hope that Rome treats you well.”

You hope it does too. “You too.”

It could just be your excitement, but you truly think that the Italian air is just as healing to you as the place itself. After parting ways with Jeonghan and making your way to your hotel right in the middle of the bustling city of Rome, you think you can feel the cracks in your heart begin to heal, if only slightly.

You take in a deep breath as you walk along the pavement that runs through the city of Rome, taking in the sights of small local stalls selling jewelry and knickknacks, a content smile on your face. You’ve been here for only a day but you feel more like yourself than you have been for the last four tiring years. You adjust the strap of your handbag over your shoulder, fixing the sleeve of your flowy floral dress as you let the sunshine warm your body. Your phone has been left behind in the hotel room, having been blown up since you have landed in the foreign country from your ex. The messages were deleted as soon as they were received and the numbers have been swiftly blocked by you, only providing updates to your parents and your boss that you arrived safely and you will contact them if anything new happens.

You lift the disposable camera that sits around your neck by a strap up to your face, snapping a quick photo of a gelato stand on the corner, your smile growing as your stomach rumbles. You could use something sweet.

“Buongiorno,” you speak quietly, stepping up to the man behind the gelato stand. The man smiles back at you as you take a nervous breath. “Uhh… vorrei un gelato piccolo in cono, per favore.” You smile hopefully, hoping that you didn’t just accidentally insult him.

You release a breath as the man smiles happily at you, leaning down as he begins to take out a cone and ice cream scoop, making your gelato with precision.

“Grazie!” You beam as you pass him your money, taking the cone gratefully. You bow your head in thanks to further show your appreciation, and the man chuckles, bowing his head back.

As you turn, you let out a yelp as you run into a body behind you, almost causing you to drop your new cold treat. Luckily, you’re able to compose yourself quickly and bow your head just as fast.

“I’m so sorry!” You pause before your brain catches up. “U-uhh.. m-mi scusi!”

“Y/N? Is that you?” A soft voice responds, and you freeze.

You lift your head quickly to the owner of the voice, your eyes widening as you see an all too familiar face smiling excitedly at you. His chestnut brown hair is pushed back, his bright smile being just as blinding as when you first met him all those years ago in middle school, who went on to be your good friend for five years before life caught up with you and you naturally drifted apart.

“Seokmin? Lee Seokmin?” Your smile grows with him as he almost immediately scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around in circles. You squeal out a laugh, your free hand holding onto his shoulder. “Yah!”

“What the heck?!” He laughs with you, squeezing you tight once he places you back onto the ground. “What are you doing here?!”

“I could ask you the same thing!” You giggle happily.

“I’m on a trip with a hyung of mine! We both had some time off and wanted to go somewhere warmer.” He chirps, looking you over with a smile. “What about you? Where’s Geumjae?”

You freeze at the mention of his name, biting down on your lip. “Um.. I’m here alone, actually.” You attempt to smile, but it looks more like a grimace. “We broke up. Not too long ago actually and messy. So, I guess this is my way of coping.” You shrug.

“Oh no, I’m sorry I brought it up.” He pouts, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “So you’re here alone?”

“Yep.” You pop the P with a little smile. “But it’s only my second day here and I’m happier than I have been in the last four years, so that’s a plus.”

“I’m glad.” He smiles warmly at you as you nod.

“Dokyeom-ah!” A second voice enters the conversation. “What’s taking so long?”

You turn your head and take a step back with wide eyes as you come face to face with Pretty Man; Jeonghan. He looks more put together than you both did at the airport; now sporting a pair of black skinny jeans with a plain white t-shirt and a leather checkered jacket. He looks just as surprised as you do, taking in your outfit.

“Sorry hyung,” Seokmin smiles, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as you hold your cone now with both hands. “I ran into a friend from school! Hyung, this is-”

“Y/N. The one who left me to fend for myself to save the plane all on my own.” He sighs and places his hand on his chest.

“That was you?” Seokmin gasps.

“Yah!” You glare playfully. “You said it was okay!”

“I only said that to make you feel better about the fact that you willingly let me save us all.”

“It was one bout of turbulence.” You huff before Jeonghan smirks playfully at you. “I won’t keep you guys, you probably are waiting to get some gelato.”

“What? Are you sure?” Seokmin frowns. “You can tag along with us if you wanted, I’m sure hyung wouldn’t mind?”

“No, it’s okay, really.” You give him a little smile. Jeonghan frowns. He can see right through it.

“You’re just going to walk around by yourself?”

“You say that like I haven’t done it before, Min.” You laugh.

“I mean, yeah, you did it on campus but… you’re in a whole new country. I think I’d feel a lot better if you had at least one friend to keep you company.” He insists.

You hesitate, biting down on your lip. He does make a good point.

“How about this,” Seokmin offers. “You don’t have to spend every day with us. Why don’t we meet up once a day? I can take some great photos for your Instagram to show Geumjae that you’re thriving without him.”

“Geumjae?” Jeonghan tilts his head. Your face turns red.

“The Ex-boyfriend.” You hum, looking down.

“He never deserved you.” Seokmin rubs at your shoulders comfortingly as he sees the dismay on your face.

“Ah, thanks Min.” You smile. “I’ll take you up on that offer, only if it’s okay with you and Jeonghan. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You could never. You’re always welcome. Right, Hyung?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan nods with a smile at you.

“Thank you guys.”

“It’s no sweat, really! The more the merrier!” Seokmin beams. “We’re going to the Trevi tomorrow if you want to meet us there?”

“Sounds good.” You hum, waving your hand. “I’ll message you?”

“Sure.” He nods as you begin to walk away.

“See you then.”

As soon as you’re out of sight, Seokmin turns towards Jeonghan with raised eyebrows.

“Ohh Dokyeom-ah,” Seokmin mocks Jeonghan. He starts to blush. “I swear I made her laugh. She was just too cute.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles, glaring at the younger man.

“I can’t believe my school pal is the Cute Girl from your flight.”

“I said shut up.” He hissed. Seokmin just smirked at him with a giggle.

[lemonnsss]

Moral of the Story pt.2

Warnings: cheating, illusions to sex, angst, not BETA'D we die like men.

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry for making y'all wait two extra weeks, enjoy!

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4

Taglist: @vicmc624, @mostlymarvelgirl, @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy, @moonlightreader649, @whattheduckisupkyle, @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan, @mrsbarnes32557038, @imyourbratzdoll

Word count: 1.2k

Within a few days, I'd moved across the country. Even though anyone from Xavier's could fly over without warning, I thought it would be good for me. I wanted to escape Jean and the heartache she brought with her. Jean had everything. I had left, she had Logan, and I'm sure she would find a way to manipulate Scott again. Just like always done.

Given the circumstances, I wasn't looking forward to my return as a teacher. I had worked as a secretary for a lawyer through college to be able to pay for tuition, and I decided that would be my best bet.

I sat in my bed at the hotel, craning my neck at my laptop screen. Finding a job here was a lot harder than I had anticipated. After a few hours, I had finally found a decent opening. It was a higher-level position at a conglomerate major enough for even me to have heard of. I suppose it's not shocking how much the former CEO is always in the news. A fact that makes sense with the understanding that almost every eligible lady threw herself at him and, oh, how could I forget, one of his board members and most trusted advisors had tried to kill him. Twice. 

I set up the meeting for the day after tomorrow, fearing that the next day would be filled with an intense migraine, a common side-effect of driving past 2 A.M. trying to make it to California in the shortest time possible. I got up, placed my computer on the provided desk, plugged it in, and begrudgingly moved to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

The next day came, and for the second time this week, I'd been right in the type of way I loathe. When I got up, I could barely move, my muscles aching after spending the past few days stuck in my car, only taking a few long breaks to get some rest and about a half dozen times each day for food, drinks, and the restroom. Changing into something comfortable, I left my hotel room. The search for a decent coffee shop now beginning.

After about half an hour, I found a place that looked decent enough. I walked in, and it felt like all eyes were on me. The feel of burning gazes, the sudden urge to make myself as small as possible, and the waves of dread crashing down on me. My symptoms of anxiety. An all too familiar feeling. I looked up at the menu, order already in mind. 

 “Hi! I’ll get a hazelnut latte with almond milk if you have it. Oh, and it says on the menu that there’s a white chocolate scone. I’ll have one of those as well.”

 “Okay, an almond-hazel-latte with a white scone. Who’s it for?”

 “Uh, Kyrie.”

 “Okay, Kai. Someone’ll call when your order’s done.”

 “Okay, thank y-“

 “Please, go find a seat.”

I backed away awkwardly. Slightly raising my arms, hands up in thumbs up. I walked away, putting my arms down, looking for a table to work at.

To no surprise, most tables were empty. For those occupied, their occupants were dressed in semi-professional attire, almost definitely catching up before going to work; the separation between their lives and my own shifted into something all the more evident. 

After about ten minutes, a barista called for the fake name I had given them. I got up and grabbed my order.

I sat at a table away from the windows and took out my laptop. I opened my email, checking for any new correspondents, to see almost 200 new emails, over half of which were from Logan and the other teachers of Xaviers. I went to Logan's profile, blocked him, and used the search bar to delete his previous messages. I don't need to read the pity speech of someone who doesn't value me as even a human being.

I scrolled through and saw an email from Scott, an unusual occurrence for him. I clicked to open it but didn't get the chance to read it, the screech of someone pulling at the table's other chair making it exceptionally difficult.

“Why are you- why did you sit down?”

 “I’m hiding from my bodyguard who is very determined to stay aware of my whereabouts. Even if he thinks it’s me sitting with you. He won’t interrupt our conversation. So, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" said a man with dark brown hair in an expensive-looking suit, "You're new around here aren't you?"

Great. Preppy, rich white guy hiding from his bodyguard, the horror. I laid my head on my hand and took a sip of my coffee.

 "And how would you know if I was? My attitude, my dress, perhaps an unusual drained look plastered on my face." A cheeky tone in my voice. It didn't matter if I was exhausted; this could be fun.

 "I was going to say your accent, but sure, let's go with one of those."

 "What do I get?" I took a bite of my scone. It wasn't as good as I had hoped but not far from what I had expected.

 "I'm sorry, pardon?" Moved his torso to face me.

 "What do I get if I don't rat you out?"

"You get a conversation with me, not something afforded to most." He leaned back.

The door rings. A bigger man in a suit with short, curly hair, a goatee, and sunglasses walks in. The man in front of me gives me a slightly urgent stare.

"I want a favor. Anything, anytime. Within reason, of course."

"Okay, fine; that works for me, just well, you know help." His voice was now a low whisper.

"Pleasure doing business with you," I say as I grab him by the tie, pulling him into a kiss. After a few seconds, I pull away slightly. I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on his supposed bodyguard. The man in question was looking the other way, an almost abashed look on his face.

"Wow, I was not expecting that."

"I'd recommend getting used to it, sweetheart."

His bodyguard took a final look around the room, figuring his client was somewhere else. Just as he entered he left, without a single word.

Hearing the door close he leaned back stretching almost, "So, what do you want? Money, political support, a fun time maybe. I mean with the kiss you gave me I would think the last of which."

"I'll pass. I just moved here, and I need a job. So, If my interview tomorrow goes to shit, your company or whatever you do is the backup now. Congrats!" My voice was now full of sarcasm. 

"Hand me your phone, now. Don't be shy." I opened and closed my hand repeatedly to affirm my statement. 

"Pushy, are we?" He sat up lightly and pulled out the latest iPhone. I should have expected that. I grabbed it and slid the lock screen open.

"Really? You don't have a password? Mr.," I paused with the new knowledge of who this man was, "Mr. Stark. Know what? I'll call in that favor right about now."

[nicalysm]

Wild-child: sneak peak

𝗡𝗶𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: This is my first fanfic. I am open to any suggestions and guidance, but please be nice.

---

This is so unfair!

You had already planned the perfect summer— to spend the next 3 months shopping carelessly, to bathe and catch the eye of cute lifeguards at the beach, and get wasted nightly at the bar and making out with rich DILFs. But your stupid parents had other plans; pointing out that you needed to change your troublesome ways lest your money be cut off.

Within a week, your flight was booked, and by the next, you were sent to a small province (of all places!) in Fengjian, China. So here you were, slumped at the back of the taxi car, frowning. Your eyes drooped from fatigue, body sore from your position despite changing it every once in a while— is the seat too hard? Flatted out already? For the many hours she sat there, maybe. At this moment, you just wanted to jump off the moving vehicle and scream.

I mean, sure, you were a menace ( kinda )— going out when forbidden, driving drunk and crashing your car, getting arrested for shoplifting and assault ( but it wasn't your fault the guy harassed your first! ) , etc. — but that isn't justified to send you here! But it's too late to bargain. Now, you're about to spend 3 looong painful months ( or more if, your mother says and you quote "don't change your attitude" )

Drowned in your own thoughts, you didn't realize that the car had already stopped until the balding old driver waved his hand in front of your face. "We're here," he spoke with a thick accent.

Finally, you thought sarcastically as you stepped out of the car, hauling 2 suitcases. Fengjian was far from the metropolis you grew up in. While the city had towering skyscrapers, this small town had verdant trees so tall it covers up the structures it towers upon— the streets and walls were dotted with red lanterns so vibrant it takes away the focus from the others for itself— this felt alien for you, moving from the monochrome city to a colorful town.

"So you're the brat," a woman's voice snaps out of your trance. You raised a brow. Who's this witch? The woman eyed you up and down from with knitted eyebrows, hands on her red clothed hips.

[kohakuarisaka]

Subspace [chapter 12 of ?]

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Your dom let you drop, and Hawks picked you back up. It was an act of kindness; and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about each other since, and what could be. Suddenly, your relationship with your boss became so deliciously improper.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Dom!Hawks and Sub!reader. Female reader with female genitals. BDSM elements. Kink discussion. Aftercare. Consensual rough sex. Feral behavior. Wing kink and feather play. Consensual dirty talk and verbal abuse. Unprotected sex. Penis in vagina sex. Oral sex. Bondage & Shibari. Master/slave play. Biting/choking. Degradation. Vibrators & anal plugs.

♪ ♫ What I listened to while writing this

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5 • Chapter 6 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 8 • Chapter 9 • Chapter 10 • Chapter 11 • future chapters coming soon~

Links: [ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist on Tumblr ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The mood was different the next time you stepped into Hawks’ apartment.

He was there at the door to greet you, like always. He was wearing comfortable clothes, bare feet on the cool tiles. Only, there was something charged in his stare. It wasn’t cold or condescending. He looked a little upset, but not in the way you had grown used to these past several months. It wasn’t that fake anger he conjured to fuel the persona he had created in your time together.

Tonight, there was something heated in his stare. It wasn’t frightening; rather, it made you feel safe. When his palm gently cupped your chin, fingers spread across your jaw, tilting your head back to force eye contact, you felt a trickling warm spread through your chest.

It was a little surprising, for a moment.

But, when you thought about what had conspired only a few days ago, it seemed obvious why he was acting this way. You didn’t want to allow yourself the fantasy of believing that it would change anything. Hawks was a hero, after all. It was his job, and you were just a nobody, doing your job, like everyone else.

Only, the look he was giving you conveyed something quite different.

“You scared me,” he uttered darkly. “I expect an apology…”

…

…

…

It had happened earlier in the week, on a rather unsuspicious Monday.

You didn’t own a car, as you didn’t need one to get through the city. A year or so ago, after settling into your new role as Hawks’ assistant, you moved to an apartment within walking distance. Plenty of grocery stores, bars, cafes, doctors’ offices and everything in-between were a short train ride away, if not easily accessible on foot. You could also take the ferry across the river if needed, and always enjoyed the salty air carried by the oceanic breeze.

You had a meeting scheduled across town and needed to take the bullet train to get there. It was just another day, another trip you had taken many times before, another cart you had likely been in several times before without ever considering it. It was just another day.

Until it wasn’t.

Something had crashed into the train, forcing it off the tracks and to a screeching, fiery halt. The first cart was almost completely demolished from the collision, and the following harshly piled up on the tracks behind it. The force had knocked you across the aisle, and a harsh slam into the hand rail had rendered you unconscious.

You were in and out in the following hours, bleary vision giving you glimpses of red cloaked skies.

When you woke up in the hospital, you figured it had been your wild imagination supplying a frivolous dream. The news was playing on the TV in your room as the doctor went over your discharge paperwork. A villain had caused the train crash and Hawks had descended upon the scene, a tornado of red feathers pulling civilians from the burning wreckage.

The news channel had gotten amazing footage of the scene, a beautiful barrage of red feathers swarming the cart in a furious tornado, carrying people into the sky before carefully descending them to where emergency personnel were parked with ambulances, waiting for them.

There was a very brief and blurry clip of Hawks exiting the train. His back was turned, his wingspan small and empty as his feathers filled the sky. His arms were curled inward, back arching forward, implying that he was holding something, or someone.

The footage ended, and the scene returned to the reporting news analyst explaining what had happened. Through a beautiful smile, the reporter babbled on about the amazing rescue Hawks performed, how he had arrived on the scene in record time, and not a single life was lost thanks to his speed.

The reporter’s voice faded away when the doctor stepped into the room. You tried to ignore the flushed feeling of shame and joy that made your tummy spiral, and tried to focus on the discharge information. Luckily, you had suffered no severe injuries. You had been pulled from the wreckage before suffering any smoke inhalation and the hero who had saved you took care to ensure your neck remained acute, leading to no accidental spinal injuries.

One of the rookie’s escorted you home from the hospital, made sure you made it safely up the elevator, and even offered to run any errands for you, which politely rejected, of course. For some time, you laid in bed and thought about it all, about Hawks rushing to the scene.

The fact that you were was just a coincidence, right? Sure, he had access to your schedule, and you always told him about meeting you had. But, that didn’t mean-… He wouldn’t have-…

Those intrusive thoughts kept you awake until the pain medicine finally kicked in, and you were able to drift into a pleasant sleep.

The next day, you got dressed and walked to work, as if nothing had happened. You were immediately faced with Hawks as soon as you passed the threshold. He didn’t wait a second to beckon you into his office. As soon as the door shut, the mask he wore vanished, and you realized how angry he truly was. You had seen plenty of fake glares, forced anger when he was pretending to set a mood during a scene. This was different.

This was real.

“What are you doing here? You should be at home,” he chastised, immediately knocking his visor off his face, careless to where it landed.

His irritation startled you, but only for a moment.

You put your foot down, crossing your arms, and returned his glare.

“I’m fine,” you retorted. “-m just sore. No reason I can’t be here.”

“You’re not fine,” Hawks shot back, his voice rising just a little. “You almost-” He cut himself off with a groan and dragged a heavy hand through his hair.

Hawks’ headphone followed, roughly yanked off his neck and tossed onto his desk. It was then that you finally saw the bags under his eyes, the dark tint on his eyelids. He dug his index finger and thumb into his closed eyes, turning away from you as he harshly rubbed his face. The coffee mug on his desk was startlingly aromatic. You could smell the caffeine from across the room.

“You should go home-”

“If anyone needs to go home, it’s you, Hawks,” you challenged him, letting your voice be harsh. “You look-”

“Don’t,” he snapped, turning back towards you.

The venom in his voice was frightening, alongside the angered look he gave you; however, he blinked it away immediately, looking regretful. There was the slightest moment that startle danced across your face, before it morphed back into anger.

“You-” he began.

“I-” as did you, cutting him off.

The room was still for a moment. You jolted a little when Hawks’ cellphone suddenly he went off. He harshly yanked it out of his pocket and squeezed it, pushing the side button and stopping the ringing. You stared at him, confused, especially when he tossed the phone onto his desk, reckless as it skidded across the surface.

“Look, I-”

He shifted forward suddenly, startling a gasp out of you and cutting off your statement. His arms curled up behind your back, carefully pulling you into a weak embrace. His head drooped into the space above your shoulder, hesitant to make contact, likely out of fear of hurting you. You stared over his shoulder, watching his wings fold in and sag against his back.

You sighed into the embrace, lifting your hands to slide them up his chest, and pressed yourself against him. He remained strong as your weight bore into him. Even in this tired state, he was unyielding, and it made you feel undeserving of such attention. When his arms tightened, you felt a slight ache in your lower back, but didn’t allow yourself flinch, afraid he would pull away.

This wasn’t appropriate for work, even with the door being closed. You knew that, and surely he did, too; but, you didn’t want him to pull away. Rather, you leaned in closer, trying to encourage him to touch you more. It worked, for his hands slithered up your spine, as if mapping out the surface.

“I meant what I said: I’m just sore,” you offered weakly, letting your cheek fall onto his shoulder. “Hawks, I can’t – I don’t want to be cooped up in my apartment.”

He understood that, more than you would ever know.

“…okay,” came his quiet, hoarse reply. “Sorry for snapping at you.”

As his arms started to pull away, you decided to make a leap. Normally, Hawks was the one who initiated; but, you decided, it would be you this time.

“It’s fine. I – uhm - can I come over Friday?” you whispered, tilting your head back to peer up into his eyes as he removed himself from the embrace.

He blinked, and you could almost hear the rejection as he mulled it over in his head.

You were still recovering. Even if you were just sore, as you claimed, that didn’t mean that a few days was adequate recovery time. But, as Hawks stared at your face, taking in the soft look of hope, he allowed himself to admit that, clearly, you both needed it.

Hawks replied, “yeah,” before swallowing dryly.

His eyes drifted down your face before rapidly shifting back up to your eyes. You tilted your head back, as if to answer that silent request, only, his phone started to ring again, and Hawks pulled away to answer it this time. Before you could hear too much of the conversation, you exited his office.

…

…

…

An apology.

You were certain you knew what he meant by that.

Hawks pulled his hand away, and you carefully set your bag aside, letting it drop forgotten to the floor, before beginning to descend in front of him. Before your knees were even close to the ground, Hawks grabbed at your bicep, and pulled you back up to stand properly.

“What’re you doing?” he snarled, dragging you in close.

Panic blossomed across your face. “Ugh - apologizing?” you offered weakly.

“That’s not how you apologize to me,” Hawks scolded, his brow sunken low over his eyes.

“Don’t insult me,” he added on darkly, giving your bicep a gentle squeeze. The venomous words had you trembling with delight and, honestly, you were a little disappointed he didn’t punish you for that misunderstanding.

“Now, do it right.”

That was how every dom before had expected an apology: on your knees, groveling at their cock with pitiful begging words. You felt foolish to assume that Hawks would expect one the same way, and even more foolish when you realized you didn’t know how he wanted an apology.

Luckily, he answered that silent plea. He let go of your arm, lifted his hand to his face, and tapped the pad of his finger against his cheek, before turning his head away from you.

With a soft gasp, deliriously endeared by his method, you leaned forward, planting your hands on his shoulders for balance, and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek.

When you pulled back, you whispered, “I’m sorry, sir.”

You could see him give you a glance from the corner of his eye before his gaze shifted away again, and he released a displeased, quiet exhale. A brief feeling of panic and excitement washed over you, and you leaned forward, kissing his cheek again, and a second time, just to be safe, before apologizing again.

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

He blinked slowly, but otherwise didn’t react. Spurred on, you tried again, this time delivering something suave to his cheek, feeling his fine beard hairs tickle your chin.

“Sir, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

He turned his head towards you, looking unimpressed. The frown on his face seemed more challenging than it did discouraging, especially when accompanied by the burning stare of his golden eyes.

This time, when you leaned in, you peppered butterfly kisses along the corner of his mouth, avoiding his lips as if you absolutely were not allowed to dare touch him there. Before you could utter sweet pleas to him again, a huff escaped his nose that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Your fingers fumbled with his shirt where they clung to his shoulders, torn between temptation and nerves.

“Sir, I’m sorry,” you whispered again.

Hawks tilted his head down ever so slightly, and you took that as an invitation to kiss his lips. He didn’t reciprocate; but, when you leaned back, you saw a faint smirk appear. You gently pressed another kiss, and then another, leaning in until most of your body weight was pressed against him. His hands finally reached for you, grabbing onto your waist for purchase.

“Sir, please. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm,” Hawks hummed, blinking down at you.

As you stared up into those sunset eyes, you thought about what a monster he was.

And more importantly, how much you loved it.

You leaned back in, this time adorning his other cheek with kisses, one right after the other, making soft smacking sounds as you did so. He huffed softly when you kissed at his beard line. At that sound, you returned to his mouth, finding your methods rather desperate at this point. This time, however, he kissed back, arching over you as he did so.

You moaned, embarrassingly loud, in response.

When he pulled back, he made a thoughtful sound. “…are you?” he uttered.

“Yes,” you breathed.

A calloused hand slid up your neck and you tilted your head approvingly, eyes fluttering shut. Deliriously, you thought about how massive his hand was, how easily he could cup your throat, how far across his fingers could circle the delicate flesh. However, in that moment, he was holding you gently. There was the slightest bit of a threat there, and it felt good.

“Are you?” he repeated, a little darker this time.

Your eyes fluttered open and you released a nervous breath. “Sir, I’m sorry I scared you.”

Hawks’ thumb trailed your cheek and you watched a series of emotions play out across his face. His other arm locked tight against your lower back and pulled you in, forcing your body against his. He felt firm, strong, and the pressure was a little painful, not that you cared to contest that. The smell of his cologne was gentle and reminded you of the ocean.

“Tonight… I’m going to fuck you.”

The words had left you stupefied, staring at him as if you couldn’t believe what he had just said.

Hawks huffed out a brief, quiet laugh, seemingly pleased by the stare you gave him.

“Would you like that?” he offered, a little teasing, but clearly sincere.

As if on autopilot, you replied quietly, “yes, sir.”

He leaned in, dragging his stubble against your cheek, until his lips touched your temple.

“You want my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” you panted, eyelids fluttering and hands now a death grip on his shoulders.

His hand, that had been gently caressing your neck, shifted to the back of your head and grabbed a fistful of hair. You cried out softly when he pulled your head back, grip careful to ensure he didn’t hurt you. Your eyes squeezed shut, not out of pain or fear, but from pleasure and excitement.

“I can’t hold back anymore,” he confessed in a hoarse whisper.

You huffed out a weak breath, leaning into him and silently begging him to continue.

“You have no idea how hard it is to resist when you want it so fucking badly,” he continued. “Even when you don’t say it. The way you look at me. Makes me wanna tie you up – use you every single night.”

A full body shudder betrayed whatever dignity you had left.

“Would that be enough for you?” Hawks murmured darkly. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

You didn’t quite respond verbally, but your grip on his shoulders tightened.

He laughed darkly. “No, no, it wouldn’t be. You want me to come inside you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but you still tried to answer, whimpering out an agreeing sound.

“Yeah,” he agreed through a heavy exhale. “Just fucking you isn’t enough. You have to be full of me, even after I’m done with you. You want to feel it – remember it. Maybe, I’ll make you walk around my apartment while it leaks out of you.”

“Hawks-” you cried out, his name escaping as if against your will.

“Shhh,” he cooed, lips dragging against your skin as he spoke.

Your eyes fluttered open as he pulled back. You were breathing a little harsher than usual, you realized, cheeks flushed red as Hawks stared at you like a hungry, wild animal.

His knuckles dragged along your cheek before he pulled his hand away.

“Babybird, are you sure you still want this?” he asked, his tone as sweet as he could manage while making that face: a look that made it clear he was being serious.

He had spun you deep into the abyss; but, that concerned question had sobered you up enough to give him a proper answer.

“Yes, Hawks,” you breathed. “Of course I do.”

“I won’t be able to be sweet on you tonight,” he warned in a soft voice that contrasted that implication.

You didn’t ponder it for long. You weren’t sure if you wanted it sweet. When you were in between these nightly visits, you dreamt of him taking you properly. It was rarely ever sweet at the start. In your dizzy daydreams, he fucked you like he owned you.

With some bite, you answered sharply, “if I wanted sweet, I’d get a boyfriend.”

For a moment, Hawks was quiet, staring at you with a surprised look on his face. But, then, that look formed into an amused and wild smirk.

“Yeah,” he agreed darkly.

His lips fell over yours, wet and possessive, devouring. You let your hands venture into his hair, forgetting your place for a moment as he kissed you. Hawks seemed to forget, too, for he didn’t bother attempting to stop you. He held you close, tilted his head and deepened the kiss, forcefully drawing sounds out of you.

You both had drifted away for a moment, before he harshly pulled back with a wet smack. Hawks released you from his hold, though your grip on his shoulders and weight pressing into him kept you upright. With a careful hand, he cupped your bicep and pushed you away. You staggered back willingly, finding your footing.

Wordlessly, he tilted his head slightly in the direction of the hallway, a cold look in his eyes. You started for his room, and he followed behind you, looming like a dangerous shadow.

As you approached, your ears picked up a faint melody, a saxophone carrying a long note that hummed pleasantly through the room. Sure enough, as you crossed the threshold, you spotted the small radio lit up on the table by his chair. The saxophone finished what was likely the end of a long and beautiful solo before the piano picked up.

The hallway light turned off behind you, casting darkness into the room. A dim lamp at the bedside table was all that illuminated the room, casting a faint, pale glow. Even with your clothes on, the room felt colder than usual, and you knew it was intentional. However, the knowledge of Hawks’ presence made you feel warm and congested in your clothes.

As if reading his mind, you started undressing. Hawks remained behind you, and you could feel his eyes staring as your skin became bare. You couldn’t see his glare, however, as bruises that he didn’t make became exposed.

Once the final article hit the ground, fingertips spread across your back. You sighed as he traced invisible patterns across your skin. He leaned in, and you felt his breath on your shoulder.

“We have a new rule,” he advised firmly.

You exhaled heavily.

“Only I’m allowed to bruise and cut your skin,” Hawks whispered, standing so close that he was nearly touching you. “For every mark that isn’t mine, you’ll be punished. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered in a mewl that showed how much you liked this new rule.

A large hand enveloped the back of your neck and pushed you forward. You staggered a little, before finding your footing as he maneuvered towards the bed. He pushed you over the edge and you followed the motion, bending over at the waist so that your chest and cheek touched the bed while your legs held your ass in the air, bare feet on the floor.

Hawks leaned up, eyes and hands trailing over you. He pressed up against you, letting you feel his clothed erection, his strong legs and abdomen.

“One,” he started, gently sliding his palm over a large bruise under your ribs.

He was careful, though you still winced slightly at the touch.

“…two… three…”

You drifted away as he counted, finding marks you had no idea about, in places your eyes couldn’t reach as easily as his could. He leaned back, stepping away a little, and nudged your legs apart. You tried not to shudder as your sex became exposed and the cold air washed over you. He had seen your nudity countless times before; but, you doubted you could ever truly get used to this.

“…eight… nine…”

“Hawks,” you pleaded.

His hand gently brushed the back of your head, a condescending touch, and he cooed a soft, “shush.” However, there was some warning in that tone, that he wasn’t going to tolerate that, and you sagged obediently into the bed.

He was quiet for a little while, hands wandering with his eyes, touching as if he couldn’t quite see you properly unless his fingertips did, too.

“Nine marks, babybird,” he uttered, sighing with annoyance.

For a brief second, you were afraid you were going to cry. Your sober self knew he didn’t mean it; but, you allowed yourself to drift down so far so quickly, and was already feeling the bubbling shame of damaging your master’s property. You pressed your face into the sheets and tried to ignore it.

“Knees on the bed,” Hawks commanded, sounding impatient.

You leaned up on your elbows with a dry inhale and pulled your legs up onto the bed. For a moment, you pondered what he intended to use. Then, you could hear a wispy sound as something floated over you and then a pinch as Hawks grabbed it: the sound of leather squeezed against skin. You knew what it was before he touched you with it. He dragged it gently over your back, letting the loose leather touch your skin.

“Color?” he murmured.

That was sobering, reminding you that this didn’t have to happen.

A dark part of your mind wanted the punishment, reveled in the knowledge that he cared that you had been in danger, that you had been hurt. The rational side recognized the need that you both felt, to give and to take, and how that carnal desire calmed the harsh realities of your lives.

You turned your head and spotted one of his wings spread wide, the fine, red plumes of his feathers trembling slightly, rippling from the base to the ends.

Even without being able to look at his face, his wings gave away his desire. He was anxious, itching to hit you, to strike your skin and make you cry. That thought wasn’t quite as alarming as your response was. Surely, a normal person would find that frightening; however, you flushed with excitement and moaned approvingly, arching your back.

“Green, please – please,” you whimpered pathetically.

“One more time, be honest,” Hawks whispered, arching over you carefully.

His nondominant hand curled over the back of your neck, holding you down, forcing you to submit. Your fingers clawed at the bedsheets, messing up how tidy they were and wrinkling the surface. You whimpered and Hawks lessened his grip. You inhaled sharply and felt his thumb move apologetically up and down the skin along your hairline.

“I want this,” you answered, voice a little stronger than it was a moment ago.

You heard him swallow and felt him lean up. He dangled the wispy ends of the whip over your skin, a warning, before drawing it back and cracking it across the back of your thigh, right beneath the swell of your ass.

He wasn’t nearly as rough as he had been in the past. Clearly, he was holding back; but, it still hurt, and the contact managed to force a startled scream out of you.

He was close enough for you to feel his warmth, but not close enough for you to feel how his cock twitched in his pants at the sound you made. The grip he has on the back of your neck kept you still, even as you jerked at the contact. The whip came down again, the sound of skin contact a loud echo in the room.

“Count,” he snarled.

“Tw-”

The whip came down again before you could finish.

Hawks stared at your face, only shifting his eyes away to make sure he wasn’t hitting you too hard or in the wrong place. It was difficult to look away when he could see tears gathering in your eyes, red staining your cheeks, pain and pleasure flashing across your face.

Some distant part of his mind told him how sick he was. His only reprieve was that you liked it, and that reminder was the only thing keeping that nagging voice quiet.

…four…five…

Hawks shifted back and moved to your other side, using his knee to push your legs a little further apart as he settled, trading hands. He adjusted his grip on your neck, a little more gently than he had been with his other hand. He waited, listening to your breathing, ensuring it was steady enough, less he accidentally hurt you improperly.

Then, the whip came down again. The other side hurt a little more than you expected, only because you had grown accustomed to the blossoming pain on the other side. Your scream was a little startling, even to your own ears. If Hawks was concerned about it, he didn’t show it.

…six…seven…

You couldn’t hear yourself count, though you knew you were doing it out loud, like master told you too. You couldn’t tell how you sounded, raw and sinful, like nothing mattered more than what he was doing. You felt some tears shed and turned your head to let them drip into the sheets.

…eight…nine…

Hawks dropped the whip and immediately drew you up into his arms. You were pulled limply, and cried out, not in pain or agony, but shame and delight. He crossed his legs on the bed and cradled you in his lap, pressing his lips over your cheeks to clean up your tears. You clawed at his shirt and wiggled forward until your legs tangled, planting your sex right over a thick thigh.

“Did so good,” he praised, pushing your hair out of your face. “Such a good girl.”

You whimpered like an animal, blinking away tears. His hard-on was trapped between you, but your thoughts were consumed by his warmth beneath your core, the soft material of his pants pressing against your folds.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he observed through a heavy sigh.

Were you? You hadn’t thought about it until now that you could feel his clothes clinging to you, could feel his bare hands warming your skin. It was so cold in this room, but God he felt so warm.

Hawks’ hands shifted down and grabbed at the meat of your waist, pulling you forward slightly. That movement created friction that sent jolts of pleasure through you, which was made evident by a moan and shudder.

“Yeah,” he growled approvingly.

“Come on,” he urged, pushing you back and pulling you forward.

Your hands dug into his shoulders for purchase and you began rolling your hips, shamelessly humping his thigh. His cock was trapped in his pants, poking up into the seam, and receiving no attention from your movement. Still, Hawks moaned as if that wasn’t the case, staring at you with a hungry passion.

Pale lashes fluttered over gold eyes.

“That desperate, hm?” he taunted, words heavy. “Slutty thing.”

Hawks tightened his hold and forced you still. You whined and he hushed you with a snarl, “be good.”

The world rotated as Hawks pushed you back onto the bed. You flopped over uselessly, arms flailed above your head and legs trapped on either side of his waist. Your legs trembled on either side of his waist, giving away how nervous you were. Whilst not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, this was new between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but be nervous for what was to come.

Hawks’ wings spread predatorily above you, a strong arm stretched above your head to pin your wrists to the sheets. You writhed beneath him, shuddering when his stare darkened.

Something smooth and firm fell into your palm. Hawks released your wrists and slid his hand up to grab it. You realized what it was as the material looped around the skin that his hand had previously been holding. You wiggled your fingers as he bound your wrists together, careful to ensure the knotting wouldn’t hurt you or leave a mark. He shifted up and looped the rope through a gap in the bed frame.

A few odd seconds later, he was done with your wrists and maneuvered down. Large hands slid beneath your calves and hiked your legs up. You didn’t bother looking down, recognizing the sensation of more ropes. He looped them carefully, but tightly, pinning your calves to your thighs and forcing your legs upright and spread, sex exposed. You tried not to dwell on the thought of how you must have looked.

As soon as he was finished, Hawks sat upright. His hands smoothed down your legs as he admired his handywork.

“Test the restraints, babybird,” he advised softly. “You know that.”

With a deep breath, you started pulling your arms, looking quite pathetic in a feeble attempt to escape the bindings. Your feet wiggled helplessly, legs trembling as you couldn’t budge in the bindings.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked, concern briefly flashing in his eyes.

“No, sir,” you answered breathlessly.

“Be honest.”

There was a heavy, emotional honesty in his tone, as if everything weighed on this moment. He wanted you in feral, dehumanizing ways; but, nothing was worth hurting you in ways he couldn’t take back. He wanted a surrender of trust and lust, not of fear and guilt. You wiggled around some more, testing the bindings. Hawks tried to ignore how much that sight stirred his arousal.

“Feels good,” you answered eventually, head falling limp onto the sheets.

You stared up at him with glossy eyes, letting your emotions speak loudly on your face. Hawks stared back at you as if hypnotized, his gold eyes bright in the dimly lit room, and soaked up every little bit of trust you conveyed.

For a moment, the music coming from the stereo played loudly in your ears, right alongside your thundering heart. But, as you laid there, helpless to escape and beneath crimson feathers, you started to drift away, back into that invisible plain in your mind, where nothing existed outside of this moment.

A sound, a lid popping open, snapped you out of that moment.

A wet digit nudged at your entrance and carefully slid inside.

“Oh,” Hawks huffed in surprise.

He shifted his wrist to glide out and back in and immediately started drilling the digit at a steady pace, pressing against your walls with intent. You were fairly loose already, slippery with your own juices. The heat of your insides was startling contrast to the cold in the room.

“Do you like being tied up for me that much?” he asked, a sort of smug tone to his words.

He stared down at your face, watching pleasure and shame morph into one beautiful, haunting expression.

“Such a greedy pussy,” he continued, as if talking to himself. “Ready to be stuffed full of cock.”

He removed his finger and slapped his open palm against your sex, letting out a hoarse, brief laugh at the gushing, wet sound it made. You squeaked, mostly out of embarrassment, and slightly out of startle at the sudden, harsh touch.

This time, two fingers slid in, the angle different as he turned his hand to press his thumb on your pearl. You whimpered, shuddering as he curled his fingers and circled the pad of his thumb over that swollen bud. As pleasure blossomed across your body, you struggled to keep your eyes open, not wanting to miss the way he looked at you.

But, then, his hand slid back, fingers carefully dragging out of you. The lube cap popped open again, followed by a squelching sound. You could recognize the shift of him as he rested on his knees between your spread legs. Quickly, it became obviously what the noise was.

Your eyes fluttered open and, sure enough, you could see his shoulder moving subtly. However, you couldn’t lean up to get a better look, and fidgeted against the restraints as a result.

Of course, Hawks caught on.

“You want this?” he asked, some strain in his teasing tone.

The effort was supposed to just be slicking his cock with lube; but, when you mewled and pulled against the rope tying your arms to the bed frame, Hawks kept going, a little lost in the faint relief combined with the gorgeous of you bound and ready to be fucked.

“Yes,” you answered in a breathless voice.

“Yeah?” he agreed through a moan. “What do you say when I give it to you?”

“Thank you, sir,” you answered, fidgeting more.

“That’s right. But, first, you gotta ask nicely – how I like it. Come on,” he insisted, raspy and low.

“Please, sir,” you immediately huffed out..

“You can do better than that,” he answered coldly.

“Please-” you  blurted, some desperation shining through. “Please, sir. I want it.”

“Then, beg all pretty for me – beg me to fuck you,” Hawks commanded, his shoulder still moving, and the slick sounds growing louder as he increased the pressure.

His eyes were ravishing, staring with a wild hunger that you had witnessed many times before, but never tired of. You pulled against the restraints again, legs twitching as you failed to reach for him. It intensified, until you were practically thrashing around, torso stretched and chest angled upright.

“Please – your cock – I want it – inside – oh fuck me, please, Hawks, please,” you whined, vaguely aware of how you sounded, desperate and pathetic.

You failed to address him properly, but his eyes suggested he didn’t care at that moment.

Hawks snarled and the movement of his arm stopped. His head tilted back and you watched his wings jerk away and lock up before slowly curling back in to rest naturally behind him. You could see the pinched expression of pain on his face, and it remained briefly when he straightened out his neck.

Quickly, it morphed into anger.

You gawked at him, feeling a flush of nauseating arousal at the realization of what you had just done to him. Hawks flicked his tongue over his teeth before baring them, panting harshly.

He let go of his cock and shifted forward, nearly colliding with your forehead with how suddenly he leaned over you. You gasped weakly at his sudden closeness.

The music was still playing, a soft melody that contrasted the intensity of the moment.

His hands, one wet and slippery with lube, grabbed at your waist, and held you still as he slid in closer. His cock, warm and hot, dragged along your folds, the tip poking at your pearl as his shaft glided along the wetness slicking your entrance. You twitched and gasped, trying to wiggle into the right position that would glide him right in. Only, tied up like this, you couldn’t accomplish that at all, and was left to flail worthlessly.

For a moment, you laid together, panting in the same air, sex touching, but not quite one yet. You had half the mind to question him, or maybe start begging again; however, afraid he would make you wait longer, you kept your mouth shut. It became evident that he was waiting for his near-orgasm to wane, waiting for the intensity to waver.

After some time, his breathing evened out; but, the redness on his face remained ever vibrant. It was a painful arousing sight.

“Listen,” Hawks murmured, pausing to swallow loudly.

Your eyes were glossy, not quite focused even though you were looking up at him.

“Listen to me, you slut,” he added on harshly.

That snarl caught your attention, and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your thoughts enough to dwell on whatever it was he was going to say.

“I know that I say you gotta take it and all that; but, babybird, you gotta know how mean it. This – when we have sex - if it doesn’t feel good, you color. Understand? I don’t want it if you don’t love every single second of it,” he whispered, raspy, but well-tempered and controlled.

This was important, you knew that, of course; but, his tone made it all the more severe.

“Always be honest with me. When you’re with me, I own everything you feel-”

As if to make his point clear, Hawks swiveled his hips, dragging his cock along your folds. Your next exhale was uneven, shuddering out of you. The staggering breath had your chest shuddering; but, you kept your eyes firmly on his.

“-and you will only feel the kind of pain I want you to. But, pleasure, babybird, as much as you want. I can’t guarantee that if you aren’t honest with me about your body.”

His wings were trembling where they hovered above you and the look in his eyes was desperate, sincere. You were silent, waiting with bated breath, incase he wasn’t finished.

“Say you understand,” he huffed out harshly.

“I understand,” you replied, breathless, but confident.

His resolve cracked, and you were ready to scream in absolute euphoria.

Finally, you felt the poke of his cock at your entrance. Hawks pushed forward and slid into you fully, right to the base, barely giving you a second to adjust. You cried out at the intrusion, more so out of surprise than pain. There was an ache, as to be expected. But, there was an immense feeling of relief.

He felt bigger than you remembered, and it left you full and dizzy. But, what was more overwhelming, was the feeling of his torso flush against yours, the settle of his hips deep within the space between your thighs. He arched over you, letting skin touch wherever it reached.

Hawks, somehow, managed to maintain his poker face, looking almost unbothered by his sudden entrance into your body. His brow shifted slightly when he rocked his hips back. The slightest bit of pleasure flickered in his eyes when he glided back in. You tried not to look away, not wanting to miss it, but yourself struggling to do so when someone soft wiggled between.

One of his feathers.

-small, but strong, and it settled expertly over your clit. It pushed upward, nudging your bud in a familiar gesture. You could feel your legs tremble against the rope. Hawks immediately set a rhythm, pushing in and out of you at a steady pace while the feather twitched against your bead.

“Oh god-” you sobbed, head falling back into the sheets.

At some point, he let go of your waist and dug his forearms in the sheets, somewhere by your shoulders so that his biceps could pin you in and keep you still. His hands grabbed harshly at the bedding, protruding his knuckles and veins.

He drilled his hips, snapping in and out of you with bone-rattling force. You struggled to keep your eyes open, shifting between his twitching wings and striking, gold eyes. His brow was lowered in a determined scowl and hoarse breaths huffed out of his parted lips between each thrust of his hips.

His pace was bordering too much. However, the movement of his feather delivered enough friction to distract from the harsh nudge of his cock impossibly deep inside you.

He faltered at some point, shifting his hips to change the angle. That next thrust was unbelievably better. Your body jerked away from him, an uncontrolled response, and you released an unholy moan. He rolled his hips, reaching that wonderful place inside you. Pleasure washed over you in heavy waves.

“Fuck,” he suddenly snarled. “You look so good crying on my cock.”

Crying. Were you?

Everything felt too good to focus much on the state of your body. Oh, but Hawks could see it all, could feel it all: from the debauched look on your face to the way your thighs shook around him. Your hands were fumbling above your head, unconsciously gripping at the sheets or pulling against the rope.

Your eyes were a little wet, not because it hurt. It was a little overwhelming: he was deep, carving out a place for his cock. It got better and better with every thrust. You couldn’t move your body much at all, helpless but to lay there and take it. An illusion, yes. But, you basked in it, trusting him enough to allow yourself to be taken like this.

“Do you like being pumped like a cock sleeve?” Hawks questioned harshly, grunting through his teeth. “Hmm? My little slut finally got the cock she wanted so bad. Does it feel good being my personal whore?”

You didn’t respond, too distracted by the pleasure to care enough to answer him.

But, then, Hawks reeled his hand back and slapped an open palm against your ass. He wasn’t gentle, either, and you screamed at the contact.

“Fucking answer me,” he snarled, not relenting for a single second on the rapid movement of his hips.

“YES,” you cried out. “S-sir,” you corrected yourself immediately after, a little bit softer.

The words were garbled as they came out of you, wet and distant. It made you feel pathetic.

Hawks seem to agree, for he laughed darkly. Between his thrusts, the laughter sounded winded, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at his obvious enjoyment of your body.

He leaned in close, and huffed hot breath against your temple, right above your ear.

“Which part, huh? Proper answer or I stop,” he threatened.

“A-all of it,” you whimpered pathetically.

“Tell me,” he demanded through a harsh snarl.

“L-like being your-” you cut off briefly, trying to catch your breath. His hips didn’t relent for a single second. “Pers-s-sonal whore,” you finally huffed out.

That was awfully true, wasn’t it? These scenes fulfilled your wildest dreams; but, there was something immensely satisfying about belonging to Hawks. He had made it clear that you would be exclusive during the extent of… whatever this was. It meant more than he knew, and you wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel.

“You’ve begged for this cock for months. What do you say?” he grunted.

“Th-aahh-nk you,” you replied weakly, breaking off into a moan halfway through.

“You’re welcome, babybird. Take it all now,” he cooed.

It was a sweet command, clearly taunting at the obvious fact that you had no choice, shuddering against restraints and moaning at the constant pummeling of his hips. His feather was vibrating against you, undulating as violently as his cock drilled in and out of you. Everything felt like a constant jolt of pleasure. Vaguely, you could feel the air stirring as his wings beat above you, shifting his weight harder into you.

He exhaled heavily and his words melted into you. “Such a good toy for me, aren’t you – taking my cock so, so good – fucking perf – ahh - feels so good inside you – yeah, you’re gonna take my come, too, aren’t you?”

Against your will, you moaned and Hawks shuddered with an amused chuckle.

“You want it? Ask for it, nicely,” he uttered darkly, lips moving against your skin as he spoke. “Tell me where you want my come.”

“P-lease, inside,” you huffed out weakly.

“I am inside you, baby,” Hawks answered, and you feel the smirk against your skin, in his tone. “Come on, now, what do you want me to do?”

“H-Hawks,” you whimpered, head muddled by pleasure and shame.

“Be a good girl for me,” he whispered, a tantalizing combination of sweetly persuasive and darkly commanding. “Good girls get what they want, when they ask nicely.”

You wanted to be good, of course; but, that wasn’t the entire motivation. It made no logical sense. Then again, neither did anything else that you enjoyed together. You didn’t need reason. You just knew that you wanted him to-

“P-please, come ins-s-side me,” you whispered the words out, struggling from the intense movement of his hips and mind numbing pleasure.

“Sir, please,” you added on hastily, before he could think to correct you.

“I will,” he promised. “I’ll come inside you, my good girl.”

Your eyes rolled back and an inhuman cry spewed from your lips. Hawks could feel you tightening and knew before you did what was happening.

“Oh shit,” he grunted, having to slump forward to keep his momentum going, rocking his hips against yours with intent.

You were orgasming before you were even aware that it was approaching, suddenly struck with the force of it. It came on so suddenly, for a brief moment, you felt everything slip away. The world beyond this room was gone, and all you could think about was the pleasure, the weight and heat of master above you, his cock slipping wetly in and out of you.

“Yeah. That’s it. Give it to me,” he praised, voice hoarse.

His pleasured moans drew out loudly where he panted harshly above you. Hawks leaned in close, and you could feel the thundering of his heart where his chest pressed against yours. He buried his face in your neck and released a feral moan. You shuddered, thinking for a moment that you might come again. You didn’t, but it was pretty damn close, especially when you felt the snap of his teeth against your skin in a futile effort to silence his wild moans.

Hawks slammed his hips through his entire orgasm. The wet slap of skin echoed loudly in your ears as you sobered up from your own orgasm. His wings tore through the air so violently that they knocked the desk side lamp clean off the table.

The base shattered, but the bulb remained intact. Now, with the light shining from the floor, the room was darker. Shadows cast over Hawks’ form. His wings, however, were at just the right angle to catch the light. You watched the plumes twitch and shudder through his orgasm.

You recognized the heat of his seed first. It was startling, and you briefly feared it would burn you, as absurd as that was. He kept moving, and his spent slicked his cock, and you could feel it gushing wetly out of you.

A shuddering breath huffed out of Hawks, and his hips finally slowed. He stopped his thrusting and pressed a wet kiss against your cheek. Your eyes shifted to follow his gaze as Hawks leaned up to look at you properly. His wings shifted, curling in naturally against his back.

He didn’t look real, like something out of a dizzy daydream, and you were briefly afraid to blink, less he disappear.

Hawks leaned up, chest heaving as he had yet to calm his heart, and placed his hands delicately over your rope-clad thighs for balance. He was still hard inside you, and he remained there as he leaned back just enough to look down, tilting his head almost innocently.

An impressed sound whooshed out of him. You were a bit envious that you couldn’t see it: the sight of his cock, halfway inside you, soaked in a combination of your fluids. Some of it was dribbling down the edges of your sex, where your nether lips were still split on his cock.

He remained inside you as his hands started working at the bindings. He wasn’t very delicate about it, and you doubted the scene was over; so, you remained perfectly still, breathing still quite heavy. Hawks undid the knot that connected you to the bedframe, but the large bundle around your wrists remained.

Hawks leaned over you, guiding your arms over his head and onto his shoulders. You released a startled gasp when he curled his arms against your back and hoisted you into the air.

“Hold me with your legs,” he instructed, grunting in your ear.

You tried, but your muscles were weak, and you barely managed to get your heels to plant on his lower back. He could tell, clearly, for he laughed softly as he carried you to the bathroom. The radio switched off with a loud click.

Hawks headed for the bathroom. It took you a moment to adjust to the brightness, as it was blinding compared to the dim lighting in his bedroom.

The weight of him inside you made it evident that he wasn’t done that. That was made all clearer when he set you down on the wide counter top, right by the sink, and leaned you back carefully. Your arms pulled away from his shoulders and rested limply over your chest, still tied together at the wrists.

He lifted one of your legs, slowly to ensure he didn’t hurt a strained muscle, and pushed your knee into your chest.

You turned your head and realized exactly what his placement had accomplished. The mirror on the sidewall, next to the farther sink, was giving you the perfect view of your sexes. You could see his cock buried inside you, a glob of his spent oozing out and dripping onto the counter.

Hawks laughed once, amused, as he curled his hand under your head.

You were confused for a moment as to what that was for, until he started moving. Your head jerked back and, instead of clonking against the stone, you were protected by his hand. His other hand was curled against the underside of your thigh, partially for purchase, and to keep your leg up.

“Don’t look away,” he instructed. “Watch me fuck you.”

You obeyed, staring at the sight of his member effortlessly gliding in and out of your sex. With a front row seat, you almost couldn’t believe that you could fit him. Your nether lips were spread wide, pearl exposed. Everything was glistening with wetness, and the glide of his shaft was on full display, slipping in and out of your hole.

Hawks’ couldn’t seem to make up his mind, whether or not to watch the erotic sight below or the aroused, shameful look on your face. He pulled you a little away, until you were hanging off the counter top, and snapped his hips aggressively.

You whined, mostly from how sensitive you were.

“One more time,” he cooed, like a sweet promise.

Instead of his feather, he let go of your thigh and shifted his hand down to use his thumb instead. You jerked at the sudden touch, head falling back and eyes shuttering, and released a feral cry.

“Give me more one, and you can have more of my come,” Hawks continued, his voice hoarse, but oh so soft at the same time.

A moment ago, you didn’t think you could. But, now, that feeling was bubbling up almost painfully fast.

“You want more, don’t you?” he murmured between huffs of staggering breaths.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Then, you gotta come for me, first.”

Your arms trembled where they rested, bound, over your chest. You unconsciously pulled and thrashed against the bindings. You were trying, and failing, not to move too much, afraid you would hurt his hand where it held your head. Your legs twitched on either side of him, struggling to stay upright.

“Sir,” you sobbed.

“Yeah, babybird. Come on my cock again,” he praised. “Like the cute little whore that you are.”

He snapped his hips aggressively, rattling your bones.

That seemed to do it, for Hawks could feel you tightening. The pressure built up and you cried out, shaking in his grasp. It was a bit shorter, and didn’t leave you blinded like before. But, it was still so, so good.

This time, as he finished, Hawks pulled you in tight, pressing his cock as deep inside as he possibly could. He groaned loudly, jaw clenched and eyes pressed shut. You stared up at his face, mesmerized by the sight. His wings flexed again, albeit a little more controlled than a moment ago.

As he exhaled deeply, he carefully pushed your leg in towards your chest.

“Look,” he instructed.

Knowing what he meant, you turned your head and looked at the mirror, briefly taking in the debauched sight of your bound wrists and heaving chest, before looking down at your sex.

It played out like something out of a porn film. He slipped out slowly, cock shiny and wet with your arousal and his own seed. He was still hard, and an angry shade of red. His blonde pubes were completely drenched and darkened from the wetness. Just as soon as he popped free, a glob of his seed followed, oozing out.

Hawks leaned over you, smirking.

“What do you say when you get my come?” he whispered.

You tilted your head back to face him, and was so close that your lips touched his as you spoke.

“Thank you, sir,” you answered breathlessly.

Hawks undid your wrist bindings as he kissed you. You mewled into his mouth, wobbly arms finding the strength to latch onto his shoulders. He carefully pulled you off the counter and into his chest, still locked at the mouth. You sagged against him, feeling boneless and exhausted. He seemed well aware of this, for his hold on you was solid.

He detached from the kiss slowly and guided you towards the shower. He set you carefully on the bench before turning away to start the showerhead. You leaned back against the cool tile, wincing at the ache of your muscles. You blearily took in the sight of him, blonde hair a wild, sweaty mess, wings curled in tight against his back. You tried to blink that look away when he turned back to you.

For a moment, Hawks stood by the running water, letting it hit his shoulder. Droplets splattered from the contact, sparkling in the overhead light.

Once the water was warm, he gently grasped your arms and helped you to your feet. You stepped into the stream, leaning against him for balance, and sighed deliriously as water ran down your back.

“Be still, okay?” he warned.

You pressed your cheek into his chest and closed your eyes, certain of what was to follow.

Sure enough, Hawks detached a portion of the shower head and angled it between your legs. You winced, but otherwise remained still while he rinsed you off. He briefly angled the spray away and used his other hand to reach between your folds. You gasped when a finger curled inside you. He twisted that digit around carefully and you felt more of him ooze out with every passing second.

“Fuck,” he sighed.

Of course he was helping clean you up; but, at the same time, you were well aware that he was enjoying the view, and you didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Hold onto me,” Hawks commanded gently.

You knew it meant it both physically and mentally. The scene was over, and his hand exploring your sex was threatening to drag you back into subspace. Your hands were grasping at his shoulders, and you tightened their hold, nails gently biting at his skin.

“Good girl,” he praised, and slowly returned the shower head to your sex.

You flinched again, gasping softly.

He was done a short time after that, and popped the extension back into place.

“Thank you,” he praised, kissing at your hairline.

You almost flinched away, knowing full well how sweaty you were.

“I’m gonna wash you, okay? Keep squeezing me like that,” he instructed sweetly.

Your death grip on his shoulders was pinching at his skin. Though, Hawks didn’t mind at all. He liked that little bit of pain, a reminder that you were still quite strong. You had clung to him out of fear your weak legs would surrender and drag you to the floor. But, it was also nice to feel grounded to him.

After a lather with some body wash that smelt like honey blossoms  – something that was clearly not for him - Hawks worked some shampoo through your hair, fingers careful to not accidentally tug on strands. You melted into him, thoroughly enjoying the attention. He was mostly quiet, only speaking to tell you what he was going to do before he did it.

Once the soap was all washed away, you felt sane enough to make a demand.

“Let me wash you.”

“You don’t have to,” he protested weakly.

You pushed away from him carefully, testing how you felt on your own feet. Despite feeling well enough to stand alone, Hawks’ hands didn’t leave you for a second, one resting at your hip while the other was curled behind your back.

“Mhm,” you hummed absently.

Hawks stood there, mostly compliant, while you squirted some bodywash into your palm and started working it over him. It smelt like cedar and spices, and you hoped it would linger on him. He was watching you with a fond expression, though also some amusement, merely because you looked quite cute attending to him like that.

You were also shameless, he realized, for your hands lowered to his crotch, and worked the soap over his soft cock and balls, touching with a bold exploration he didn’t dare allow during ascene. Hawks grunted at the touch, and was half tempted to stop you. But, he found the strength to allow your hands to wander, and calmed himself by delivering a soft warning bite to your ear.

You huffed out a laugh at that.

One large hand reached back and cupped your behind, as if trying to regain some semblance of control.

You laughed softly again, especially when you tilted your head back and caught the pout on his face.

His limit seemed to be his thighs, for when your hands wandered down, he finally stopped you. If not for the gentle look on his face, you would have thought you crossed a line. Maybe you did, somewhat, but it wasn’t enough to prompt him to comment. The last thing he wanted was for you to think you did something wrong.

As the suds washed away, you carefully lathered shampoo into his hair. Pride blossomed inside you when his gold eyes fluttered shut and he seemingly got lost in the moment.

“I gotta wash it out,” you warned a minute or so later.

He kept his eyes closed and hummed in response, letting you push him back under the stream.

Once it was all washed away, Hawks tilted his out away from the water and looked at you, blinking water droplets off his eyelashes. It was then that you realize how awfully tired he looked. Guilt over you like a heavy blanket. As if sensing that, Hawks leaned in and kissed at your temple, willing those feelings away.

You leaned into him and watched the water cascade over his wings. Droplets clung to the surface and glided between the plumes. The muscles on his back flexed faintly as the appendages shifted subtly, and you realized he was moving them beneath the water.

The selfish desire to touch them flashed through you: to carefully weave your hand through the long feathers on the end, to dig your fingers into the baby plumes near his back.

But, you knew better than to dare voice such a desire.

Hawks turned off the showerhead and carefully pushed you away. A few stray feathers floated in through the entryway and dropped a towel over you. Just as you began drying off, you caught the sight of him flexing his wings. He was trying to be subtle; but, inevitably, water droplets flung behind him in a manner far too dramatically for you to miss.

Against your will, you laughed a little. Hawks grabbed the towel and threw it over your head, briefly blinding you. You pulled it away, laughing, and was faced with the sight of him aggressively towel drying his hair. You followed suit, suddenly desperate to get some sleep. Even though you were hopeful, you didn’t want to assume-

“Stay?” he asked, more so a hopeful suggestion.

The look in his eyes whilst asking that question was one of many moments that made you question how he could be so cute, whilst being the same man who tied you up and fucked you into a screaming mess.

“Please,” you replied quietly.

After drying off, Hawks trotted to the closet adjoined to the bathroom. You heard him rummaging through a drawer and followed him in, the towel wrapped around your body. Hawks had carelessly discarded his, leaving you with a great view of his behind, which you of course admired until he turned around.

“I wanted to – uhm,” he mumbled, trailing off as he handed you an outfit.

As you took it, you realized it was a cross-back tank top and shorts, a deep red color. The silk material felt expensive and the stitching was almost invisible.

“-if you’re gonna spend the night after we – I wanted you to be comfortable,” he explained, sounded a little guilty.

“It feels really nice,” you answered.

“…is that okay?” he added on, even as you dropped the towel and started dressing.

You realized, as you pulled the material on, that it wasn’t really erotic at all. The shorts were flowy, but comfortable, clearly intended to be worn without underwear. The top covered your breasts well enough, with a feathery bottom hem. The material was cool against your skin, breathable, and comfortable enough to sleep without bunching.

Hawks stared at you anxiously, that look of guilt not quite leaving his face.

“Super comfy. Thank you,” you answered the unspoken question, smiling at him.

Hawks turned away hastily and hoisted a pair of boxers up his legs.

Before you could walk back to the bedroom, he was pulling you up into his arms, and laughed as you squealed in surprise. It became obvious why when he carefully set you down on the bed and went to clean up the lamp he had broken. He turned on the ceiling light while his feathers scooped up the broken pieces.

You were waiting for him atop the sheets. Teasingly, he pushed you onto your back as he climbed into bed. The ceiling light switched off, casting you in darkness. A glow seeped through the window, the city lights, giving you just enough to be able to make out the faint shape of him beside you.

“You know – if you don’t like it-”

“I didn’t say that,” you interrupted him softly, wiggling beneath the sheets. “Just, don’t go buying me expensive things all the time.”

Hawks huffed in response, disagreeing, and you had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be the end of that.

“Was…” you asked, trailing off as Hawks settled in. He sprawled out on his front, cheek smooshed into a pillow and wings spread out above the sheets.

“…was it good for you?”

Hawks blinked at you, looking a little surprised.

“I mean – worth the wait?” you added on, clearly feeling a little nervous.

“Yeah,” he answered, the word a heavy exhale. “-o’course.”

He reached through the small space between you and nudged your cheek with his knuckles.

“It’s gonna change things. I wasn’t ready for that,” he admitted quietly.

“Nothing has to change, Hawks,” you corrected him softly.

He pulled his hand back, looking a little disappointed at your words.

You were frowning at him, wondering what he could be worried about. His own self control? Maybe yours? That was understandable. New boundaries would have to be made. But, you weren’t exactly afraid of what those changes could be, and you had faith that you and Hawks would figure it out together.

You supposed that would be the end of it; but, then, Hawks was wiggling closer and carefully slid an arm over your waist. His other arm was dragging the pillow beneath his head. It smooshed up against yours, and you would have found that amusing if not for the serious look on his face.

“…I thought – when I heard about the train-” he uttered, words slightly muffled by the pillow.

“I’m okay,” you answered softly.

“I know,” he replied breathlessly.

The room was quiet outside of Hawks’ breathing and the gentle whirling of the ceiling fan.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered some time later, wondering if he was still awake.

He was awake, but said nothing. He wanted to bark out a cheery, ‘anytime!’, or crack a joke. However, in that moment, Hawks was struck silent, afraid of the first words that came to his mind. It was too familiar, and a promise he knew he couldn’t keep. It was just lucky that he was on the city, that he knew which train you would be taking. Even if he didn’t always make it obvious, he did pay attention to your schedule.

“I’ll always save you,” was what he wanted to say.

He didn’t.

[toulousewayne]

Beware the Batman

————

This is a concept for a live action Batman film set in my new reboot DCU universe. This story takes inspiration from The War of Jokes and Riddles, Batman Rebirth, and Batman the Animated Series. A lot of villains will be recasted due to the reboot.

———-

Synopsis: Set after the events of Flashpoint, Bruce Wayne returns after being gone for a few years Batman must now reclaim his role as Gotham’s Protector.

Release: December 21, 2029

Runtime: 2 Hour, 58 Minutes

Rating: PG-13

——————

Cast:

Bruce Wayne/Batman…….. Oliver Jackson-Cohen

-

Damian Wayne/Robin……..Mystic Inscho

-

Alfred Pennyworth…….Pierce Brosnan

-

Dick Grayson/ Nightwing……Josh Heuston

-

Edward Nygma/ The Riddler…Jude Law

-

Commissioner Gordon……Stanley Tucci

-

Guest Starring:

Tim Drake/Red Robin……Dallas Liu

Lucius Fox…..Denzel Washington

Vickie Vale…….Victoria Pedretti

Firefly……..Nolan North

Penguin…….Timothy Spall

Renee Montoya…….Melonie Diaz

Harvey Bullock……Clancy Brown

Scarecrow…….Jamie Campbell Bower

——

Concept Art:All Artwork belongs to the original creators‼️‼️‼️

New “Rebooted” Batman Suit:

-

Robin:

-

Nightwing:

-

The Riddler

-

——-

Plot:

-The film opens with skyline view of Gotham City at night, cuts to Gotham Square decorated for Christmas in the middle of a Christmas festival and a large blast of fire destroys several booths and stalls. Several civilians scatter to get away and screams and sirens are heard as a figure looms over cackling darkly.

-Meanwhile, across the city Damian looks out the window looking a bustling Gotham. Alfred enters the room and tells him he cannot hide in Bruce’s office all night, and Bruce had requested his appearance at the ball upstairs.

-Damian arrives with Alfred and is told to try and not look so glum and try to have fun. Tim is in a corner texting away and Damian begins to annoy him until Bruce arrives and tries to stop the to from fighting.

- Commissioner Gordon flips the switch to the Bat Signal.

-Bruce talks to Damian before Damian points out that their late. He warns Damian that they’ll finish the talk later.

- Detective Montoya and Bullock have created a block around the Christmas festival. Firefly as set ablaze half of the festival and Montoya and several other cops fire at him and he explodes a cop car.

- The Batmoblie races into the heart of the burning festival, Batman and Robin hope out. Batman orders Robin to save the hostages. Reluctantly, Robin heads towards the hostages cutting them free and leading them towards Montoya.

-Batman leaps out the way of a blast of fire and throws two batarangs at Firefly who dodges them. Robin grapples into of nearby building and throws a batarang successfully hitting Firefly. He taunts him and he lures him away from the police, Batman chases them in the direction on foot before grapple onto Firefly and the two fight in the sky.

-Meanwhile, black news van with a green question mark on the back door pulls away from the scene in the opposite direction.

- Robin leads Firefly a few blocks away, he leads him to the Gotham City Reservoir which is abandoned. Batman is able to break on of Firefly’s jets and the two crash straight through a window inside the building.

-Robin kicks down the side door and helps Batman to his feet. Firefly left his jet pack and laughs at insults the two hero’s.

-Batman tells him this will only end one way for him. The two leap out the ways as a grenade is sent in the direction. Robin grows furious leaps up several rafters, and throws a Batarang disarming Firefly and he beats him within any inch of his life Batman commends him to stop before he kills him.

- Robin tells him he deserves to die after he killed people tonight, and Batman tells Robin doesn’t kill nor will it bring anyone back.

-Robin storms out and Batman calls Alfred who informs him Gordon is on his way.

-Cut, to Batman getting back into the Batmoblie after debriefing with Gordon and races home.

-Batman being to question Damian and tells him he needs to learn self-control. Robin lashes out at him Batman reminds him that Robin isn’t a right it’s a privilege.

-The Batmoblie stops inside the Cave and Alfred greets the two; Damian unmasks and leaves the two men to talk.

- Bruce pulls up camera footage of Vickie Vale taking about Firefly’s arrest and Alfred talks about him about trying to speak with Damian.

- Across town at the Iceberg Lounge, Penguin’s men are playing pool. Another one enters with a green and black box and the thug reads the card addressed to ‘Ozzy’. They open it and it’s a Jack in the box that has a riddle on it. One of the goons tampers with it and it explodes.

- Riddler is show consumed in darkness watching his monitor which show Batman from earlier that night and monologues to himself about his next step.

-Damian walks downstairs the next morning and is met with Dick eating cereal. Damian ask when Alfred is ready to take him to school, and Bruce appears and tells him he’ll take him instead.

-The car ride shows Gotham and is silent until Bruce talks to him and the two aren’t seeing eye to eye. Bruce tries and Damian tells him it won’t try to understand his pov and Bruce dismisses the idea and tells him killing isn’t the answer. Damian leaves the car for school.

- Bruce heads into Wayne Enterprises and meets with Lucius Fox about new technology and upgrades concerning the event presentation in a few moments.

- Bruce begins his speech explaining new technologies to assist with surveillance and surgical devices before the room is disrupted by a group of thugs in green jumpsuits with rifles.

-Bruce presses a button on his watch as more goons charge in and walking in the middle of them is the Riddler.

-Dick and Damian gets alerts on their phone and watch. Dick and Alfred rush to the cave and see Riddler’s board cast from WE cameras. Damian fakes being sick and is excused and leaves school with his bag.

- Dick takes a Batcycle and races toward the city. Damian arrives in the alleyway near WE and changes into his Robin suit. The entrance is blocked off by Gordon and Swat. Montoya radios that the south exits are closed off. Robin grapples towards the top of the building.

-Riddler has his men steal some of the prototypes and Bruce questions him while everyone else stays silent due to being held at gunpoint. Damian is able to get into WE from the vent system and crawls through till he makes it towards the conference room.

-Nightwing swears through traffic, and construction racing into the city.

-Riddler asks Bruce a riddler about his parents that nearly provokes him but he keeps his composure. And Gordon order the Riddler to surrender. The gunmen take hostages, one of them being Lucius. And takes his cane and presses a button the opens a giant box. He tells Gordon through a device he left outside that he’s place bombs in three locations of Gotham and warns him if any boys in blue enter he’ll turn Gotham into a ghost town.

- Robin tells Nightwing to finds the bombs. Alfred cuts in and tells them about the first riddle. Robin and Nightwing deuce that the first bomb is at the Gotham Gazette. Nightwing makes a u-turn and rushes towards the bomb.

-Meanwhile, Robin ventures into another room where he finds three goons with Lucius and are threatening him for the access codes to the basement where WE developments weapons and vehicles. Robin sneaks in the room and uses smoke and birdarangs to stop them men. He frees Fox and Lucius tells him there are other hostages.

-Nightwing finds the bomb in the parking garage and attempts disarm it but is shot at and had to quickly disarm the bomb and take out the five gunmen.

-Robin is able to free the remaining hostages and enters the main room. Nightwing tells him he’s disarmed the first two bombs but the third one they cannot locate it. Red Robin arrives to help Robin and much do Robin’s dismay the begin clearing the room until it’s just Riddler and two thugs who’s guns are jammed.

-Nightwing and Alfred find the last bomb in in the conference room where the Riddler is and warns them.

- Robin and Red Robin attack Riddler’s thugs and Riddler taughts Bruce and leave him with a parting gift. Once Robin freed Bruce the discover Riddler manage to escape.

- Back at the Cave Bruce scans the device Riddler left him with. Bruce finds out the device was manufactured in Gotham and only a few factories can make it. He and Damian arrive at a Toy Factory in Old Gotham.

-Batman and Robin arrive to find several security guards slaughtered and Batman tills Robin to stay alert.

- Batman and Robin end up in a maze inside of the warehouse and have to rely on each other to trust and listen to one another in order to escape.

- Robin finds another Riddle that sends them to visit GCPD. Together with Gordon their able to piece together the two riddles they have, the locations of the bombs, and the last “present” Riddler sent to the Mayor during the WE siege.

-Damian and Bruce have a moment in the cave before Riddler comes on a live and tells Gotham that tonight is the night he kills the Dark Knight.

- Batman, Robin, and Nightwing suit up and have to stop Riddler by Christmas Morning. Robin and Nightwing follow a lead to the old Cobblepot Steel Mill. Where the find a captured Penguin and must save him and theirselves from Riddler’s latest trap.

-Batman arrives at City Cemetery and is gassed by Scarecrow, and is forced to come to terms with his worst fears as father and mentor.

-Nightwing and Robin must travel through the riddler’s underground tunnels in order to find him.

- Batman defeats Scarecrow, and makes him tell him where to find Riddler.

- Batman finds Riddler’s hideout inside of the old Gotham train Station.

- Batman,Robin, and Nightwing battle through goons, and traps. Batman meets the Riddler and has a finale showdown to stop him.

- Batman and Robin talk on a rooftop before Nightwing joins them and tells that can the finally go back to the Manor to open presents. The three grapple into away as the sun rises over the city.

[gutwrenchflowerbomb]

My whole life just kinda crumbled out of nowhere. I’m putting it under the cut to not clog up the feed and honestly this is more for me to just…get it out than an expectation of everyone reading/responding.

I mentioned having to pack and move because my roommates are divorcing and selling the house. The timeline for this has moved up much faster than I anticipated and on Sunday we sat down and figured out the new timeline. Which is, I need to get finished this week, get a storage unit this weekend and be ready for the movers early next week.

This is stress enough on its own. While I have somewhere to go temporarily (my friend Michelle, bless, is gonna let me crash there) there’s still the heartbreak of leaving the place that I finally felt…settled. I’ve moved 16 times in my life, 11 of those have been since I’ve been an adult. This of course left me with that paranoia of “something is gonna happen and you’ll have to move again” just ALWAYS right there. But this last move, into the house they had built, it felt permanent. Not at first of course, but after the first 2 years I got comfortable.

So now I’m going back to the weird sad nomad period. But I have a second level or heartache that’s even worse. And that’s being separated from the cats. They aren’t “mine” as we all have raised them since they were kittens. But, I’m clearly not moving into my own space and I can’t take them. Mat has promised they won’t be split up and that they are keeping them, at least until I get my own place and can take them. They love them too, but they know I’m more attached.

And then. Monday. I was fired from the job I’ve had for nearly 6 years. I worked with adults with intellectual and/or developmental disabilities. I fucking loved it. Love my clients. But the company has gone through a bunch of management changes and the most recent ones just seemed hell bent on getting rid of the “old guard.” I’d been written up twice for note getting notes in on time. Then I got written up again for driving the company car home without getting permission. Which, to be fair, was against company policy. I fucked up. I had a good reason for it - my car is running like shit, my tags are expired and I can’t get them renewed because of unpaid bridge tolls - which are currently being disputed because I filed bankruptcy last April and they should have been included. Basically, it was drive it home and back or not be able to get to work at all. I live 40 minutes away from work. So yeah, I broke a rule. But I paid for the gas to do so.

But despite being the one they call for emergencies or to handle after 5pm issues because they knew I would do it and that I have no life outside of work, despite picking up extra 12 hour shifts ON TOP of the 40 hours I put in in my department regularly for 4 years, they couldn’t see past this transgression and fired me.

I’m devastated. My clients, I have spent 40+ hours with these folks every week (sometimes more) for nearly SIX YEARS. And now, those relationships, those routines are just gone. I told them they can still call me and that I’d still come visit eventually but I honestly don’t know when that could happen. Like, I don’t wanna ruffle feathers at the company by doing that. I just don’t know how it’s gonna work.

So to recap - I’m losing my home, losing my cats and have lost my job and income and lost these incredibly important relationships all within just a week. It’s Wednesday night. I was fired Monday. I have to move Tuesday.

To be super cliché, when it rains, it pours.

[thegayhimbo]

Stranger Things Darkness on the Edge of Town Review (Part 3 of 3)

Warning: The following review contains MAJOR SPOILERS from both the book and from Season 4 of Stranger Things!

If you haven’t yet, be sure to check out my other Stranger Things Reviews. Like, Reblog, and let me know what your thoughts are regarding the show or the upcoming season! :)

Stranger Things Comics/Graphic Novels:

Stranger Things Six

Stranger Things Halloween Special

Stranger Things The Other Side

Stranger Things Zombie Boys

Stranger Things The Bully

Stranger Things Winter Special

Stranger Things Tomb of Ybwen

Stranger Things Into The Fire

Stranger Things Science Camp

Stranger Things “The Game Master” and “Erica’s Quest”

Stranger Things and Dungeons and Dragons

Stranger Things Kamchatka

Stranger Things Erica The Great

Stranger Things “Creature Feature” and “Summer Special”

Stranger Things Tie-In Books:

Stranger Things Suspicious Minds

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 1 of 3)

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 2 of 3)

Stranger Things Runaway Max (Part 3 of 3)

Part 6: Inspirations for the Book

In the past, I've noticed certain Stranger Things comics and tie-ins have similar elements to other books/movies. Tomb of Ybwen paid homage to The Goonies while containing multiple references to Lord of the Rings. Hawkins Horror had several stories taking inspiration from either Stephen King or common urban legends. Rebel Robin, a book centered around Robin discovering her identity as a lesbian, contains plot aspects from 80s movies like Sixteen Candles. Even the upcoming comic The Voyage (set to be released on November 1st) looks like it'll borrow heavily from Alien (1979) except instead of in space with the Xenomorph, it'll be on a cargo ship with the Demogorgon.

While I can't say whether or not this is a coincidence, I noticed that Darkness on the Edge of Town had many similarities to two different properties: A movie called Escape from New York, and a Batman comic called Batman: The Cult.

Escape from New York is a 1981 movie directed by John Carpenter and starring Kurt Russell. It takes place in an alternate timeline where the Cold War is still ongoing, and Long Island has been converted into a massive prison for all the criminals (similar to what Hugo Strange does to Gotham's criminal population in Batman Arkham City). During a flight over the island, Air Force One gets hijacked, and the President ends up crashing inside the prison. He gets taken hostage by a gang led by its leader, The Duke, who threatens to kill the President unless he and the other prisoners are granted amnesty and allowed to walk free. In exchange for getting pardoned from a life sentence, the government makes a deal with a man named Snake Plisskin (Kurt Russell's character) to infiltrate New York City and rescue the President within 24 hours.

Like Snake, Hopper is a former war veteran who received honors for his services. Unlike Hopper, who became a cop and moved to NYC, Snake became a criminal after becoming disillusioned with what the United States had become. Both men are forced to undertake a dangerous mission: Snake takes up the task because he was being slated for execution before the situation with the President occured, and Hopper is forced to go undercover in Saint John's cult after Agent Gallup threatens to destroy Hopper's life if he doesn't comply with his demands:

Both men get put in dangerous situations in New York City at night where they're forced to fight for their lives alongside different companions. There's even a scene from the movie where Snake and his group are attacked by crazies in their car, which is eerily similar to what happens to Martha and Hopper in their car when the blackout happens and the rioters on the street go after them:

Both the movie and the book feature a charismatic leader of a gang as the main antagonist: Saint John and The Duke. The difference is their motives: Saint John is looking to fulfill his prophesied apocalypse whereas The Duke is hoping to use the President as leverage to help him (and presumably his gang) escape the hellhole New York City has become. In many ways, the Duke is more sympathetic than Saint John because, while he is framed by the movie as a bad guy, his reasons for wanting to get out are easy to understand. It doesn't help that both the President and the government are shown to be self-serving and callous towards the loss of human life, which is something that disgusts Snake. Unlike this book, Escape from New York ends on a bitter note with Snake non-verbally acknowledging that, despite the events that took place, things in the country were not going to change. Snake is also treated as an anti-hero by the narration compared to Hopper who (along with Delgado) are framed in a heroic light.

Likewise, Batman The Cult contains similar elements to Darkness on the Edge of Town in regards to their villains and certain plot points. Like Saint John, Deacon Blackfire is a cult leader who lures in the homeless and the desperate to create an army which he can use to take over Gotham City. He masquerades as a benevolent priest running a homeless shelter much in the same way Saint John and his followers attended support groups as a means of recruiting potential followers.

Both Saint John and Deacon Blackfire have an understanding of the deeper problems plaguing society. While they claim they want to fix those issues, it's really about them exploiting the current state of things to drive their agendas forward:

Both of them want the hero (i.e. Batman and Hopper) to join them on their crusade and even use drugs and brainwashing as a means of putting the hero under their control.

The difference is Deacon Blackfire succeeds in breaking Batman via holding him prisoner for a week, torturing him, starving him, drugging him, and chipping away at his will. By contrast, Saint John was acting with limited time in trying to brainwash Hopper in the climax, and Hopper manages to fight this long enough to overpower Saint John.

Both Deacon Blackfire and Saint John create an army for the purpose of attacking a city. Both attacks are coordinated, planned out, and cause untold damage and chaos:

Both of them preach an ideology and build lore around themselves. Deacon Blackfire claims he's doing God's work while Saint John claims he's acting on behalf of Satan:

Both of them are also scarily effective in whipping their followers into a frenzy:

Where the villains differentiate is how they're defeated. While Saint John is overpowered by Hopper and fatally stabbed (dying with the belief he did the right thing) Deacon Blackfire gets humiliated by Batman in front of his followers. This has the effect of causing said followers to immediately turn on Blackfire for daring to show weakness, as well as realizing they've been duped by Blackfire the entire time:

Unfortunately, Saint John's followers don't ever see him humiliated the same way Blackfire was, so it's questionable if (after the FBI and NYPD got back control of the city) Saint John still has disciples out there following his defeat who will continue to carry out his work. Not all of them were arrested by Agent Gallup's task force unfortunately. However, it's a moot point since it's likely there won't be a follow up sequel to this book.

Again, I can't confirm if Adam Christopher took inspiration from either Batman The Cult or Escape from New York, but there are so many aspects of those stories similar to the ones found in this book that I wouldn't be surprised if he did. Regardless, I like the parallels between these three stories and how they complement each other in regards to themes and plot.

Final Thoughts:

This is a must-read book! It serves as a nice prequel to the show, and gives more backstory on Hopper while also expanding on his character and his relationship with El. It also fits well with the continuity of the show, and (as far as I can tell) doesn't contain any errors related to canon. It's a thrilling, fast-paced novel with plenty of suspense and insight. If (or when) you get the chance, check it out! :)

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Sounds of Justice (2)

Warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, non-consensual drugging, descriptions of character death, car crashes, lying, manipulation, mentions and descriptions of jail, guns, yandere themes, mafia AU, mafia Rafael Barba (trust me, he needs the warning), mentions of rape (not to the reader), and unwanted advances (nothing happens to the reader).

Chapter 2

“I’m so glad I travelled in the car with you two,” you yawned as Torres finished parking the car.  Ellie had woken you up by prodding you with her finger until you stirred from the front passenger seat.

“Because we’re the most charming of the team?”  Torres grinned.

“Not just that.  If I were in the car with Tony and Ziva, I probably would have a few more bruises and I wouldn’t have been able to get any sleep at all.”

Torres shuddered, “I’ve heard about her driving.”

“I haven’t.  What’s it like?”

“Effective.”  You eventually answered.

“That’s the best way to describe it,” Torres agreed.  “I think Gibbs is the only one who can beat her in the driving category.”

“You have no idea,” you stretched.  “Being in a car with both of them is not on my to-do list.”

“I’ll tell them you said that.” Bishop winked after she’d opened her door.

You gaped at her in mock betrayal, “And after I fed you.”  You gasped dramatically.  “Is there no decency in the world anymore?”

“None.”  Torres deadpanned as the two of you climbed out of the car.  “That’s why we’re here.”

Your amusement evaporated instantly, “Right.” You exhaled, stepping onto the footpath.  Abby had done some digging and brought up the fact that this case shared a few similarities to three others around the tri-state area.  There didn’t appear to be any pattern yet but you knew Abby would keep digging until she found something that connected them all.

Within minutes you saw another two cars approaching you.  One was a dark blue sedan and the other was a white station wagon.  It wasn’t hard to make out the faces of Ducky, Palmer, Abby, Gibbs, Tony, Ziva, and McGee in the different cars.  As soon as Abby saw the three of you, she waved.

You felt some of your previous amusement returning as you noticed that Ziva was driving the dark blue sedan.  You nudged Bishop with your elbow and she smirked before nudging Torres with hers.  The agent coughed and focused on the pavement for a few moments.

Once Ziva had finished parking and the car was stationary, Tim opened his door and bolted out of the car, “Never again.”  He vowed, standing next to you.  “I would rather experience another pointless department meeting than be forced to endure Ziva’s driving again.  Not only that, but I had to spend three hours and forty-five minutes listening to Tony ramble on about classic movies and listen to him doing impressions of his favourite characters for the whole drive.”

Bishop struggled to conceal her sniggering and McGee peered around you to glare at her, “You think that’s funny Bishop?  Just for that, we’re swapping.  You’re riding with Ziva and Tony and I’m riding with (Name) and Torres.”

Bishop controlled her laughter as the other members of the NCIS team joined you on the pavement.  Gibbs looked at you, “What are you waiting for?  This case isn’t going to solve itself.”

Recognising the order in that sentence, you turned to face the building that had been behind you and your team walked towards the entrance.

As expected, the 16th precinct was a hub of bustling activity.  The second you stepped into the squad room; many heads turned to face you.  This may have been because a woman with long brown hair and a sergeant’s badge clipped to her belt had come over to you.

“Welcome to Manhattan.  My name is Detective Olivia Benson.”

Your boss stepped forwards, “I’m Special Agent Gibbs.  This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, Special Agent Tim McGee, Special Agent Ziva David, Special Agent Nick Torres, Special Agent Ellie Bishop, and Special Agent (Name) (Surname).  Our ME team are Abby Sciuto, Dr. Donald Mallard, and Dr. Jimmy Palmer.”

“Call me Ducky,” Ducky ordered as he stretched out his hand to Olivia.  “Everyone does.”

Olivia shook Ducky’s hand with a smile, “I’d like you to meet my team.”  She beckoned them over.

The first man to reach you nodded in greeting and held out a hand to shake, “Detective Fin Tutuola.  Call me Fin.”  He had brown skin; one pierced ear and his dark hair was tied in a ponytail that rested on the back of his neck.  Your first impression of the man was that he had a very low tolerance for bullshit and called things as he saw them.

Next to introduce themselves was a tall man with slicked back blond hair, “Names Dominick Carisi Junior, but everyone calls me Sonny.”  He said with a grin.

“You don’t happen to be from Brooklyn do you?”  Tony probed.

“As a matter of fact I do.  How did you know?”

Tony shrugged, “I’ve always been particularly good at identifying accents.”

The next and last person to introduce themselves was a blonde woman, “Detective Amanda Rollins.  Everyone calls me Amanda except for the boss when she’s angry.”  She whispered conspiratorially.

You liked her immediately.  It seemed to be a long running joke between Amanda and Olivia because the lieutenant simply raised her eyebrows and stared at the detective.

Sonny gazed around the bullpen, “Barba’s not here.  He must--”

“I would rather you didn’t speak for me when I am here and quite capable of talking for myself, Detective Carisi.” A voice cut in smoothly.

“It’s obvious that you don’t have a problem with talking.” Sonny snarked.  The other man pretended not to hear him.

“Barba,” Olivia said in a mixture of surprise and relief.  “I thought you weren’t coming in today.”

The smirk that the new arrival wore seemed a little forced to your eyes, “Yes.  Circumstances fortunately changed.”

“Sorry to hear about the death in your family.”   Sonny offered sympathetically.

Now you were certain that the smirk was forced, “Unfortunately, it was just a matter of time.  Let’s move onto other things, shall we?”

Olivia quickly introduced you to Barba and then she introduced Barba to you.  The moment when she mentioned that Rafael was an ADA that worked alongside them, you knew Gibbs’ opinion of the man took a nosedive.  And you knew why.

You shared a meaningful glance with Ziva, Tony, and McGee.  You knew you were all thinking about Rule 13.  You wondered if Bishop and Torres were doing the same thing.

“We understand that you found one of our people of interest,” Fin stated.

“Yeah.  But he wasn’t exactly in a talking mood when he was found.”

“And that is where we come in!” Abby stated energetically.

“Indeed.” Ducky agreed, “Could you please direct us to your ME’s office?”

“Of course.  I’ll take you there now,” Sonny voiced.  You noticed Abby’s fingers wiggling in excitement and just knew that it was a matter of time before she was in command of the machines in the department.

“There are other things that we need to discuss in my office.”

Gibbs stared at you all before he followed the lieutenant, “Play nice.”

Tony put on his most endearing grin, “Always do boss.”

From the look on Gibbs’ face, it was clear that he disagreed with that statement and he was choosing not to argue with it right now because the case was more important.  The door to Olivia’s office closed silently but the blinds let out a rattle as the door closed.

“I get the feeling your boss doesn’t like our ADA.”  Fin spoke up.

“It’s nothing personal,” McGee assured him.  “It’s just that the boss has a list of rules.”

Amanda frowned, “What rules could he possibly have that make him dislike Barba?”

“Rule 13.”  You, Tony, McGee, and Ziva chorused.

“Is anyone going to explain to me what that means?” Barba huffed.

McGee, Tony, and Ziva all focused on you.  You glared at them, making sure that they were well aware of your displeasure when it came to being forced to answer this question before facing Barba and preparing yourself for the inevitable explosion, “It means “Don’t involve lawyers”.”

“Isn’t that nice?  I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.”

“Sorry about him,” Amanda apologised when she was certain he was out of earshot.  “He seems abrasive but Barba’s a good guy.  He’s passionate about what he does and he’s nearly unstoppable in court.”

“I’d be pissed off too if someone insulted my livelihood without knowing me as a person.”  Fin added.

“It’s a specific rule because we had a lawyer intercept a report from one of our team.”  Tony argued hotly.

Wanting to ensure that the collaboration between the SVU and NCIS teams continued to run smoothly, you jumped into the conversation, “There’s also Rule 51.”

“And that is?”

“Sometimes you’re wrong.”

“You might want to tell Barba about that rule if you want his continued cooperation.”  Fin advised.

“Good point.”

“Out of curiosity, how many rules are there?” Amanda asked.

“Ninety-nine.”  Torres answered.

“Ninety-nine what?” Sonny asked as he reappeared in the room.

“Of their boss’ rules.”  Amanda explained, pointing at the six of you.

“Most of us have our own rules as well.”  McGee revealed, “(Name)’s #1 is don’t piss off an expert in their field.  And yes, that includes Ducky and Abby.”

“All the more reason that I should explain the reasoning behind Rule 13 and mention Rule 51.  How do I get to Barba’s office?”

“I’d take you.”  Sonny offered, “But I think it’s better if you let Barba cool off first and have some coffee.”

[trinitywc]

On chapter 15 of Endless Winter currently, and loving every moment of it but the lead up to some projects and finals is gonna gear up within the next week so I won't be able to finish as fast as I would like to. Given that, I wanted to verbally dog ear my place & jot down some thoughts before they escaped me (particularly my appreciation for the way you portray character dynamics and the nuance you provide that I could sit and stew on for hours).

I've been enjoying Rutherford and Pinefrost's interactions a great deal. I get the feeling he loves infodumping about his interests, and particularly likes how good a listener, as well as perceptive, that Pinefrost is. She's sharp in more ways than one! and I also particularly adore the way Pinefrost often uses his explanations and points when he is explaining things to her as an anchor for her wandering mind during the present in a way that doesn't make her feel as though she's out of the loop or excluded unlike past scenes when the gang is discussing whether to stay or leave the domicile. Those two bounce off one another so well, and in such a way that it makes it so apparent how isolated Pinefrost has been even amongst her surviving group, and even before that when Creek Clan was still intact. Her loneliness has been really keen in previous chapters, and it's nice to see her feeling like she has a companion that shows her just as many new things as she can with honing Rutherford different skills.

That being said, while I really enjoy Rutherford, I don't know if I trust him fully. He's been dependable and a great source of support for the group, but I can't help wondering about his intentions. Perhaps he just wants company! But it strikes me as odd that he's giving away resources when he was so skeptical of Pinefrost giving Sedgenose her fresh kill, and is directing them all out of the city purely out of the goodness of his heart and during the thick of winter, no less. It makes me wonder to what end he plans to act as a tag along with the group, and not to mention he'd have to make the entire trip back to the city by himself once they get to the river! He seems like too much of an intellectual city slicker to want to rough it with the gang when/if they reunite with the clans... clan??? (Creekwood consolidation with the survivors perhapseth???) Surely he's not doing all this JUST because he met our intriguing mule headed protagonist, could he?

Crackpot theory but maybe he's not leading them to where he say he is- but then again he hasn't lied even with the explanation of the atom to Pinefrost. Crackpot theory #2, he seems to have observed Pinefrost's reluctance to leave, and her feelings of insecurity that she confided over what they have the possibility to come back to with the clans and I have to wonder if he'll use that to either isolate her (unhealthy option) or encourage her (healthier alternative!!!) to stay with him instead. The summary certainly implies so! Crackpot theory #3 combination of both #1 & #2.

Then a random comment and some purely satirical jokes that are essentially nonsense, feel free to skip;

"She had one option, and that was through. Through the winter, through the atom."

SO INCREDIBLY METAL, LOVE THIS. HAUNTING, GUT WRENCHING, TRAGIC IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE- A CAR CRASH YOU CAN'T AVOID OR REDIRECT. So much of ch 11 in particular to be honest! Rutherford's entire explanation left me with dreams. I left it waking up and checking my little kitty cat's nose for black ash.

Pinefrost: Oh yeah we knew this would happen, sedgefrost had a vision from star clan that the great light would take us out :/

Rutherford: the FUCK? the HUH?

Everytime Sedgenose or Woolycloud have an interaction with Pinefrost, I'm that one twitter reaction video, "-and she's the mother, she's mother earth, she is mother gaia, she is YOUR mother 👁👄👁"

I AM ON THE FUVKING FLOOR WITH THOSE MEMES THATS SO FUCKING FUNNY

Good luck with your exams!!!

"I get the feeling he loves infodumping about his interests, and particularly likes how good a listener, as well as perceptive, that Pinefrost is" - It’s kinda shown but Rutherford starts talking to Sedge and Wooly first before diverting to Pinefrost, he couldn’t get the same conversation about the world and atom and stuff from them; they really just click. If they had a glass porch table and a bottle of wine they’d talk for hours and hours. They are both very curious cats, for better or worse.

"Those two bounce off one another so well, and in such a way that it makes it so apparent how isolated Pinefrost has been even amongst her surviving group, and even before that when Creek Clan was still intact" - they do have such good chemistry imho. I wanted Rutherford to be a friend for Pinefrost, genuinely. She is a very lonely little cat. As is he, they are both on each others level, she is able to understand his city/atom terms where other cats cannot, and he is eager to learn more about the world outside the city. Pinefrost needs that understanding/knowledge of the world to feel more secure, and Rutherford gives it her in spades.

"it strikes me as odd that he's giving away resources when he was so skeptical of Pinefrost giving Sedgenose her fresh kill, and is directing them all out of the city purely out of the goodness of his heart" -everything is a means to an end ;) As for your theories… i love em both. I love getting people’s midway theories!

There is no way but through!!!

[starvin-darlin]

Addict - pt 1

my take on Quinn and Darlin meeting, part 2 already planned! lmk if u want to be tagged.

warnings : Quinn

—————————————————————————————

They knew they shouldn’t go in. The blood clubs of Dahlia were shady, unpleasant areas of the otherwise beautiful city. Places the majority of empowered people pretended didn’t exist. A cultural taboo. These businesses weren’t even allowed to display signs explaining what they were out front, leaving their advertisement only due to word of mouth and kept strictly need to know. These establishments were a juicy piece of gossip amongst younger members of the pack, while older members scolded them for daring to bring up blood clubs in civil conversation.

Maybe this is why Tank felt drawn to them that night. The lingering voice inside of them that told them they didn’t belong in the pack. That they were somehow incorrect, indecent, unable to fit in with their unkempt appearance and brash attitude. That voice was quieted by Gabe Shaw, who welcomed them with open arms and shielded them from vitriol spewed by the more elitist adults of the pack. But Gabe Shaw died in a car crash. And with his death came the return of every fear they had worked to get rid of. What was worse, was the pack, reeling from the death of their leader, seemed to return to their previous opinion of Tank. The disdaining glances, the whispering insults, the mocking jokes. All of it returned. They had lost the most important shelter they had, and what little community had formed around them, all in one car crash. They were distraught, mourning Gabe all by themselves as their pack refused to provide them company through the pain. So they found themselves doing what they never expected they would. They asked David Shaw for help. But, when they knocked on his door and sheepishly explained their situation, he only said one sentence before closing it on them, “Cant you see i’ve got more important things to deal with?”

So they shifted. And ran. Ran far away from the man they believed would’ve helped them in their hour of need. Far away from the man that shut them out when they needed him most. Eventually they ran out of stamina, well into the outskirts of the city streets. They looked around, realising how big of a city Dahlia truly was, as they had never come this way before. A neon red door was lit on the street next to him. Music was pounding from inside. Several vampires stood at the entrance talking in hushed tones and exchanging money. The writing above the door was in swoopy lettering, spelling out “Crimson”. Tank knew immediately this had to be a blood club. A shiver raced up their spine as they shifted back to their human form. They knew they shouldn’t go in. They knew it was a bad idea. They remembered every rumour the pack teenagers had shared with each other growing up. “They kidnap wolves in there!” “They steal you and sell you off to the highest bidder!” “I heard they drain you dry!”

But something in Tank wanted to go in. Some urge called them to enter. They knew they didn’t like the idea of biting, and didn’t find partying with vampires to be an exciting prospect. But the danger of the club allured them. They felt an itch within them, they wanted to do something reckless. After all, even if they got hurt, there wasn’t anyone who would come looking for them anymore. So they entered that beaming red door, after shedding their large hoodie, glad their tight red undershirt made them look a little less out of place than they felt.

As they entered, they felt like they were walking into the mouth of a beast. Every vampire they passed in the entrance turned sharply to face them, made a face like they were breathing in, then beamed two sharp fangs at them. Are they… smelling me? Tank thought, mildly freaked out. They were used to being the hunter, not the prey.

The entrance led to a bar area with a crowded dance floor. They tried to act like they knew what they were doing. They were just old enough to enter bars so they didn’t have much experience with them, let alone a vampire bar. They sat on a bar stool and ordered a drink from a curvy female vampire who seemed to be the only vampire in the room not gazing at Tank like they were their last meal. Guess shes on the clock. Tank reasoned, sipping their drink. They stared out over the dance floor. Several empowered humans danced with vampires. They all had hazy looks in their eyes, like they were severely inebriated, or in some kind of trance. Their bodies writhed and jerked against what seemed to be their companions for the night. Tank thought about the vampires they had watched trade money outside.

“They steal you and sell you off to the highest bidder!”

Tank shuddered and sipped their drink, questioning why they had felt they needed to see this place for themself.

“Well don’t you look out of place.”

They tried not to jump, turning quickly to stare at the piercing eyes that were only inches from their face. A man had sat down next to them. His dark features took them aback, they were simultaneously breathtaking and unnerving. A person that looked attractive until inspected closer, until you see their eyes were sharper than normal, and their smile extend just a bit too far up their face. A hunters face, Tank thought.

“Hello? It’s your first time here, right?”

They snapped out of whatever daze his face had captured them in to give a quick nod. He smiled warmly, contradicting his previous sinister grin.

“Yeah, I figured. You don’t seem the type to be in here.”

“What do you mean?” Tank replied, having finally worked up the courage to force words out.

“Well just look at them.” He gestured to the empowered humans on the dance floor. The dancing had become kissing for some, and biting for others. Tank watched in morbid curiosity as a woman’s fangs slid into the neck of the empowered woman she was dancing with, her partners head flying back in an expression Tank couldn’t read as only pleasure or pain. “You know why empowered people come here?” Tank shook their head. “They have no life left inside them. They feel so empty with their boring lives that they come here to experience panic, danger… ecstasy. The mundane stresses of regular life, bosses, spouses, kids, grate these people down so hard that they become empty inside. So they come here to finally feel something. Like junkies craving one last high.” His face contorted into pure disgust. Tank marvelled at how quick his face morphed into different emotions.

“And how do you know I’m not like that?” They asked, forcing some confidence into their voice.

The stranger laughed, “You? No way. You’ve got too much life inside you. In fact, I bet that’s why you’re here.”

Tank raised an eyebrow, who was this guy who acted like he knew everything about them with one look.

He continued, “I bet no one loves you enough, no one cherishes you as much as you deserve.”

They felt their face go hot, his narrow eyes focused so intensely on their face that they felt like he was looking right through them. Seriously, who was this guy??

“I think I have to go.” They mumbled out, standing out of their chair.

“Of course. Let me show you out.” The stranger stood, parting the crowd around them to lead them to the exit. Until Tank felt a hand grab the back of their shirt. A force pulled them back into the jostling crowd of the dance floor and lifted them until their feet barely scraped the ground.

A hand wrapped gently around their throat, red nails scraping their neck slightly as their head was turned to face a red headed woman with a vicious smirk on her face.

“Aren’t you pretty?” Her voice purred, the distinct smell of iron coming from her mouth. Tank tried to wrestle out of her grasp before realising they couldn’t move her an inch. They knew vampires were strong, but they had never experienced it for themselves.

“Enough Cynthia. This one is mine.” The strangers voice was deeper than before, lacking the life it had when he complimented them before. He took hold of their arm and yanked them out of the woman’s hold. The force knocked the wind out of them.

“Aww come on Quinn. You never learned to share?” She taunted with a honeyed laugh. Tank felt the stranger’s, Quinn’s, hold on their arm tighten, their skin constricted between his fingers. He held them firmly next to him. “Besides, I don’t see a claim on them!” She waggled her manicured finger at him.

Suddenly, the force on their arm jerked them closer. His hands came to hold them in place by their shoulders, with them still facing the red lipsticked grin of the woman in front of them. Tank was confused, what was going on? Until they felt a sharp pressure on their neck. The realisation sunk in. He was biting them. His slender fangs punched into the vulnerable skin of their neck, before his mouth began pulling the blood to the surface and out of the wound. They writhed, trying to struggle out of his grip. But their head was getting fuzzy, it was becoming more and more difficult to get their limbs to move, their thoughts growing quieter and quieter. Eventually they couldn’t remember where they were, why they were struggling, who they were trying to get away from. The club noise that previously overloaded their senses ebbed away, until the only sensation they were sure they were experiencing was the burning pain at their jugular.

Quinn released his fangs, the cacophony of the club crashing back into their ears as they tried to stay upright. Luckily he was still holding them by their shoulders. They slumped into his side, lacking the energy to hold themselves up.

“See? Claimed.” Quinn proclaimed, between cleaning off his fangs with his tongue. Tank’s vision was returning slowly, just enough to see Cynthia roll her eyes and turn away from them. Quinn’s arm wrapped safely around them as he led them out of the club and back out onto the street. He had tucked them underneath his large overcoat, protecting them from the cold air of night around them. He sat them both down on the pavement edge. It was nice, sharing body heat with him. But they couldn’t shake the pain of the bite from their neck. It’s burn sobered then quickly, and they jumped up from under his coat.

He spoke before they could, “I am so sorry. That should never have happened.”

They weren’t expecting a heartfelt apology, or his eyes to be brimming with unshed tears. They were once again surprised by how fast he seemed to go from a scary, serious hunter to a gentle kindhearted man.

He continued, “I had to, please believe me. She would never have let you go otherwise. I should have gotten you out of there earlier.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. His genuine seeming anguish made them want to reassure him.

“No. It’s okay. Thank you for getting me out of there. You had to do it.”

His face burst into a smirk, tongue running over his fangs again, “I’m so glad you understand. Well,” He stood abruptly, “I’d better be going.”

Tank shivered, the cold sinking into them now that his coat was no longer shielding them. They stood as well, unsure of what to do next.

He sensed their hesitation, smiling, “I’m guessing you heard my name back there, but, I’m Quinn. What should I call you?”

They shuffled their feet slightly, “Well… my pack call me Tank.”

He blew air out of his nose before replying, “A foolish name for someone as precious as you.” He turned to walk away.

“Wait! What if I want to see you again?” They called after him, causing him to turn.

He laughed, “Just call my name precious, I’ll hear you.”