#with the trees he has only seen from a car or a bus going to the next stadium

[nervousdemeanor7]

crossing my fingers that when Nora said "TSC is a love story" she is talking about Jean falling in love with life.

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Reader goes on a run with a few of the others but they end up getting blindsided by another group, reader and Rosita take the most damage.

Warnings: strong language, twd apocalypse setting, not-so-secret feelings between reader and Daryl but nothing is official right away, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fighting, reader gets injured and needs stitches, reader giving and receiving punches, kicks, etc. mentions of blood, cuts, weapons such as knives and guns, heavy mentions of killing (FAKE OF COURSE!!), a kiss or two, maybe three if you’re lucky ;)

Word count: 5.8k

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

“Y/n. You comin’ or what!?” Rosita yells over to you, “or are you too bus-“

“I’m comin’, alright!” You yell back, cutting her off, and all she does is smile.

You look away from the group, cheeks turning red as you look up at Daryl. His head tilts to the side as he looks at you confused, “What’s she mean by busy?”

You shake your head, “Nothing just.. girl talk.”

Daryl scoffs, shaking his head, “Good luck out there.”

“You sure you can’t come?” You bat your lashes, which definitely does something to him, but he just shakes his head, “Y’know I would if I could.”

He reaches up to pinch your chin between his fingers, “Be fuckin’ careful out there, a’right.”

You give him a smile, “I always try my best.”

He hums lowly as he watches you walk away, keeping his eye on you until you and the group were out of the gate.

If Daryl didn’t have a prior commitment to help Aaron with the one wall, he would definitely be going with you.

“Try and convince him to come along again?” Rosita asks as you walk with her. You roll your eyes, trying not to laugh, “Can you give me a break?”

Rosita is your best friend, has been since you saved her life. She had six walkers on her, you were moving by and decided to stop and help her and she instantly liked you, so away to hilltop you went.

One night later on, when you both were giggly off some liquor you found, you admitted to her that you had a thing for The Archer in your group - Daryl Dixon.

Which, you and him also did end up taking a liking to one another. It only took one look from each of you and that was enough to not keep each other off your minds.

“I think it’s really cute.” She glances over at you, “Seeing you guys in looove.”

“Please. He is not in looove.” You scoff, a laugh following right after, “Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“You guys talking about you and Daryl?” Michonne elbows you and you sigh, “Not you, too!” You groan, “Oh my god.”

“I think it’s cute, too. Never really seen Daryl look at someone the way he looks at you, and I’ve known him a while.” Michonne raises her brows and you just shake your head.

Someone even mentioning his name has your cheeks turning a rosy color.

“You know it’s true.” Rosita adds, “C’mon y/n. Just take a chance already.”

“I’ll think about it and get back to you.” You laugh, everything becoming serious when Rick holds his hand up, signaling to stop.

“Walkers?” Michonne asks, moving closer to Rick, and he nods, “About seven or eight? Some might be in the side tree line.” He looks back at the group, “I think we can take ’em.”

You nod, getting your knife gripped in your hand before you continue to walk down and take out the small group of the dead.

——

About an hour later, you come to the few houses at the end of the one road, “Wait.” You grab onto Rosita’s arm, “I don’t think we’re the only ones here.”

Rick snaps his head towards you, “What do you mean by that?”

“Something just fe-“

Bullets. Lots of them flying your group’s way.

“Get down!” Rick yells as you all duck behind old cars and trees. You get your gun ready, along with everyone else and aim, looking through the sight to see if you can see anything.

As soon as you see a body you fire, which leads everyone else into shooting blindly in the direction of where gunfire came from first.

“We move on three. You two go that way.” Rick points to you and Rosita and motions towards the houses, “You two go that way.” He motions for Carl and Michonne to go the opposite.

“I-“

“I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere.” A voice from behind and the sound of a shotgun loading makes you all whip around.

Six men coming to form an arch around her.

“Who are you?” Rosita asks and the woman with the gun laughs, “Hell, I should be asking you all the same. Damn. Thing.”

“Wait.” She squints her eyes at you and points, “You. I’ve seen you.. with that long haired, crossbow wielding, psycho.”

You clench your jaw, tilting your head slightly, “I’m sorry, what did you say?” The lady with the gun tilts her head, “I think you heard me. I don’t really like repeating myself.”

“What do you want?” Rick asks, ready to negotiate, “We didn’t come to cause any trouble we-“

“I don’t fucking care about your bullshit we need supplies sob story, although.” She purses her lips, eyes scanning over your backpacks and weapons, “It really doesn’t look like you have a sob story at all, so I’ll just go ahead and let these men pick you off one. By. O-“

“We will give you our guns and walk away.” You say with a shrug, “How about that?”

She hums, gun now pointed at your chest, “How about… no.. and instead, we bring you inside and try to find out a little bit about you mysterious, pathetic looking people.” She looks at all of you again, “And where you came from.”

“No. We’re not-“ Rosita is cut off by the woman pointing the gun at her, “Was I talking to you?”

“Well, you said, you mysterious people, so I’m guessing I was included in that, too?” Rosita fires, sarcasm on her words.

The lady just sighs, “You made it so easy to pick who the first one is going to be.”

She steps closer to Rosita and you all move a step closer, too, “I’m just sayin’, you mess with one of us. You mess with all of us.”

You stare at the woman, a cold stare, “Put the gun down, and we’ll fucking talk.”

“We can talk this out. If you just let us explain why we’re here.” Rick steps up and the gun is now on Rick before it’s lowered to the ground, “Who’s in charge here?”

You all motion to Rick and he nods. The lady raises a brow, smirking as her eyes fall onto you, “Really? Because it seems like she’s running the show.”

“Walk.” The woman points towards the one house, “Now. Before I change my mind about killing you where you stand.”

You all move in a line and her men take your stuff.

Guns, knives, backpacks. Everything.

You were racking your brain for a way to get out of this, just like the others were.

“I have to pee.” You blurt out, instantly going with it, “Can I use the bathroom, or a tree, or something?” You cross your leg over your other one to make it more believable.

The woman looks you up and down, rolling her eyes as she motions to you, “Take her around back. Bring her in when you’re done.”

The man grabs you by the arm and pulls you, “Wait, I-“

“I have to pee, too.” Rosita does exactly what you did and the woman looks between you and her and squints, “If this is some kind of a ruse to escape, I swear, I’ll keep the kid hostage until I find you again, and then.. I’ll make him watch you all die a slow and extremely painful death.”

“No.” Rick and Michonne says instantly, “You can trust them.” Michonne assures the woman, but she didn’t believe it.

“I don’t trust you.” She shakes her head, “Do what you want, but just know, I warned you.”

You try not to laugh at the stupid woman as you and Rosita are walked back to behind the one house, with only two guards.

You share one glance with her, and that’s all it took for her to be on the same page as you.

You both turn around to face the men, giving them both the stink eye as you squat down. You bring your thumbs up to connect them to your belt loops.

“Are you going to piss or wh-“

You and Rosita lunge forward, knocking them both back onto their backs by the knees with a grunt.

You’re in fight or flight mode, and you weren’t going anywhere, not without a major fight.

“Fuckin bitch, get-“ you stomp the heel of your boot on his wrist and he yells, letting go of his gun. You go to try and kick it away, but he manages to get you on the ground and his hands quickly moving to go around your throat.

You grab his wrists, trying to pry his hands away as painful whimpers and squeaks are forced out of you.

He brings one of his hands back, quickly delivering a punch to your cheek bone. You’re dazed instantly as the punch jarred everything in your skull.

He delivers another punch, this time harder, which busts your cheek open.

As your vision is turning darker by the second, you try your best to kick him anywhere you can connect at. A sudden wave of panic sets in as your vision is almost totally back now, causing you to fling your legs up, your ankles on the opposite sides of his head.

You straighten your legs out to tighten them, pushing his arms together as you bring your knees in. He starts to lean backwards, and it’s just enough for you to bring you foot back, kicking him directly in the face.

He falls backwards off of you, his hands instantly moving to feel the blood that’s gushing from his nose, or mouth, hard to tell.

You go straight for the knife, lunging over to grab it before whipping around to stab him.

His hand catches your wrist, pushing your arm away from him as you try your damdest to keep pushing down. You groan loudly, smashing your knee into his groin area, which gives you the opportunity to push down and plunge the knife, handle deep into his throat.

You look over at Rosita as quiet choking fills your ears. You’re still dazed, in pain and your breathing just as rapid as hers.

She stands up, and you notice she’s got a decent cut on her forehead, “You good?”

She looks back at you, eyes going wide, “Holy shit, y/n.” She rushes over to look at your cheek, “That looks.. bad.”

“M’fine. We don’t have time.”

You stand up, looking down at the corpse with the knife in its neck. You bend down, pulling it out with a squelching noise as it comes out.

As you both gather up the weapons and supplies as quickly as you can, you flick off the bodies lying on the ground and Rosita can’t help herself, “I see why Daryl likes you.”

“You’re still on that?” You ask quietly as you move with her to the back of the house, looking around to make sure no one is coming to investigate.

“Honey, I’ll be on that until you’re on him, okay.”

“Oh my god. Okay, I promise, I’ll make it clear to Daryl, but only if we get out of here with everyone alive.”

“I swear to god if-“

“On your knees! Now!” One of the two guards starting to run towards you yells, but it was only a split second later that you were being shot at, again.

You and Rosita book it around the building, stopping her once you see the woman come out of the house with another guard.

Rosita leans around, firing a shot right into the one guards head, but the other one is still back there somewhere.

You go to pull your gun up and you hear your name being yelled.

“Y/n!” She’s pulled back and slammed against the old garage door, falling to the ground with a groan. You turn your gun on the guy who threw her, “Step the fuck back or I wi-“

He smacks the gun up in the air, it fires one time before the man kicks you in the torso, causing you to fly back onto the concrete, “Fuck.”

The man kicks your gun before moving to stand over you and your hands desperately search for something sharp or hard enough to crack his skull open with as you kick to keep him back.

Rosita jumps on his back, yelling as she tries to choke him out.

You scramble to pick up a rock you felt, and as he flings Rosita off, he quickly bends down to try and grab the collar of your jacket, you quickly slam the rock into his temple.

He stumbles back, groaning, and you get up as quick as you can, moving to grab your gun as you glance back at the porch.

One of the guards from

You turn to warn her, but the man you hit with a rock runs at you, slamming you into the brick wall, back first, before he grips your shoulder and neck and delivers another hard slam.

He does it again, this time throwing you away from him you roll across the dirt a few times and groan, coughing from the dust that your body stirred up on impact.

. He steps back, looking towards Rosita who is now standing up, gun in her hand. The guards cant even say or do anything before Rosita shoots both of them, back to back, not even giving them time to think about what they even wanted to say.

Which meant there was only one guard.. and the main bitchshow left.

And speak of the devil, Rosita points the gun to the door as the woman walks out first, Michonne, Rick and Carl all follow, and they have the final guard on their tail.

The woman comes down the steps, walking over to you and Rosita. Her eyes move over to examine the dead bodies of her people.

“There’s more outback, probably making their way up here right now.” Rosita says as she walks up next to you.

“Should have just listened, you now.. because now, I’m going to fucking kill you two in front of everybody.” The woman raises her gun and you scoff, “Go fuck yourself.”

You step towards her, “We never wanted this.”

“That’s funny..bbecause once you’re on my land, this is usually the only way it ever ends up.” The woman looks around, “Looks like we got more than the two out back.”

Walkers push their way through the trees and brush, moaning and groaning as they move towards where the gunshots and yelling has been coming from for the last half an hour.

You swing quick, hitting the gun out of her hand which catches her off guard, “Rosita. Go. I got this.”

She nods and grabs her weapons, making her way up to where Michonne and Rick had just taken out the last guard.

The woman goes to hit you but you grab her arm, jamming your knee into her ribs as she groans, catching your leg and body slamming you onto the ground.

You cough as she stands up, placing her boot on your chest, pressing down as you’re now looking at the shotgun from the bottom of the barrel up.

“If you kill me, you’ll have people after you.” You lay there, looking up at her as you wait a few seconds for your chance to swipe her legs out from under her with yours.

She falls to the ground with a grunt, trying to quickly get to her feet but you tackle her to the ground, instantly starting to wail on her.

“More walkers!” Carl yells loudly and you wrap your hands around the woman’s throat, “Kinda busy here, kid.”

“You got this?” Michonne asks as she looks down at the woman turning purple in your grasp, and you nod.

As soon as Michonne walks away, the woman brings her knee up, hitting you right in the middle of the back.

You tense up, “Fucking bitch!”

She leans up, head butting you in the nose and you fall back, with a quick and blurry glance around, you see walkers, at least twenty or so making their way in from the field.

She moves her body onto yours, straddling your thighs as her knees pin your hands down before she delivered a hard punch to your face, “You really think you can kill me? I’ve been doing this for years.”

“I’m gonna.” You spit blood at her, clenching your jaw as her hands tightens around you neck, “Maybe if I get you out of the picture, I can have that rugged lookin’ archer all to myself.”

“S-say one more fucking thing about him.” Your voice is strained from her grip, “I swe-“ you squeak as she squeezes, lifting your head up off the ground.

She leans in, “I bet he would make me feel so-“

Now you were pissed.

Everything in you felt like it was on fire, “Fuck you.” You manage get out before getting one of your hands free.

You reach up and grab as much of her hair you could get. She groans through gritted teeth as you pull her down with a hard yank, her body lifting to free your other hand.

You immediately try and deliver a punch, but she beats you to it. She cracks you over the mouth, the force busting your lip open again your teeth, and you instantly taste blood, lots of blood.

You grab her by her shirt collar, heaving yourself forward as far as you could go before throwing yourself backwards.

You’re able to get your leg under her, which helped you throws her body over yours.

You quickly move, getting into a standing position, just like her. Your chest rising and falling quickly, face swollen and broken.

More walkers keep coming, but you weren’t leaving this bitch alive.

“Give it up already.” She pulls a knife from her side holder and spins it around over her finger before gripping it.

You keep your stare on her, ready for whatever was about to come.

“Y/n! duck!”

You duck, watching as the knife she threw, land perfectly in the bitches chest. Michonne helps you up before going to take care of the walkers that are a little too close for comfort.

The woman falls to her knees, gasping as she sluggishly brings her hands up to the object protruding out of her chest.

You walk up, putting a hand on her shoulder as you grip the knife with your other hand, “Who are you?”

She smiles up at you, “Oh honey. I’m am only the start of what’s about to come.” Without another second, you twist the knife, pushing it in more before you push it upward.

The woman gasp, groaning in pain as you twist it again, “Oh, and the crossbow wielding psycho, just happens to be the love of my life, and the people you pointed your guns at, are my family.”

“Family doesn’t mean shit.” The woman chokes on her blood, droplets splashing all over, “They just.. screw you over in the long run.”

“Not my family.” You stand up, getting ready to walk away when you fall, due to the slash to your thigh.

Your hand slaps over the open cut in your blood soaked jeans, crying out in pain, just hoping someone can stop bashing heads in enough to hear you.

You look over, quickly trying to push yourself over the broken concrete and stones to get closer to a knife that’s lying on the ground.

The woman moves over as fast as her knees could carry her, “It’s not over until one of us is dead.” She grabs your ankle, holding you from moving any closer.

As she moves up, she puts pressure on your wounded thigh with her knee, making you cry out in pain. You opened your eyes, watching as she brings the knife up,

It all happened so quick, right as her arms went up, you struck, gripping the the knife and plunging it into the side her skull, causing what little life she had left in her, to fully die out.

She falls over, revealing Michonne, who is looking at you, “I’d ask if you were alright, but..” she cringes in a joking manner as she moves down to hold pressure on your thigh. , “..you don’t look it.”

“What the fuck was that?” You ask, laying back on the ground, “I feel like none of that made sense.”

Rosita runs up, falling down as she digs through her bag for medical supplies, “Shit, all I have is gauze, and you need stitches, y/n.” She looks up at you, “Oh my god, your face.”

“Have you seen your face, yet?” You try to raise your brows but you just can’t, “You need em, too.”

Rosita nods, “I can feel that it’s bad.” She laughs slightly, “Alright, lift your leg so I can wrap it quick.” She sighs, “And then we can get the hell out of here..”

“You guys ok-“ Rick stops talking when he sees how beat up you and and Rosita actually are, “I’m so sorry.”

“Rick why are you apologizing?” Rosita asks as she glances up at him. You have your eyes screwed shut as you push through the stinging pain of Michonne holding pressure on your thigh.

“I brought us here I-“ Rick hakes his head and you look at Michonne, “Tell him it’s not his f-ah, fuck.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Rosita says in a mumble.

You look back to Michonne, “Please tell your man that this isn’t his fault. We’ll be okay. We’re the one who live, right?”

Michonne nods, a smile spreading across her face as she looks at Rick and Carl, “We are the ones who live.”

——

About two hours later, you finally reached home.

Your adrenaline has been keeping you going. That was until you seen Daryl’s face fall and him running over to you the second your past the gate.

“What the hell happened?” He yells, looking over the beaten and exhausted group as he goes right to you, “Y/n, hey. Ya still with me.” He cups your cheeks, tilting your head up and holding you with one hand as he snaps with his other.

“We were attacked, they’re dead. But..” Rick shakes his head and Daryl looks down at you as he feels your head move.

You slowly look up at him, a slight smirk on your lips, “I kicked ass, Dixon.”

That’s all you get out before you fall into him again.

“Whoa, hey, alright, alright.” He catches you, holding you up as he turns Rosita’s face to him. He looks at Maggie, nodding towards Rosita, “Take her to get help. I’ve got y/n.”

Daryl picks you up bridal style, carrying you over to the medical trailer. He kicks the door and Dr. Carson opens it, immediately rushing Daryl to bring you in.

You come to again, looking around as you try to figure out where you are exactly.

“Has she fallen asleep or passed out at all?” Carson asks as he moves with Daryl to look at you.

“yeah, yeah, uh..” Daryl’s mind is a mess right now, “..few minutes after they got back, then she collapsed on me right before I brought’er over.”

He lays you down on the table and you groan in pain, “S’okay. We’re gonna get you better.”

“Try and keep her talking.” Carson turns his attention to you, “Y/n, hi, it’s Dr. Carson, do you want any pain medication?”

You shake your head, whimpering at the pain setting in more and more, “No. no.”

“We have plenty, y/n. I sug-“

You cut Carson off in a snappy tone, “I said no.”

“Alright.. Do you know what happened, y/n?” He asks as he shines a light into your eyes, “Can you see me?”

You nod, groaning as you close your eyes again. He moves to get an IV ready while you mumble memories about the day you’ve just encountered. You try to move your leg but you forgot about your injury first a second.

You groan, “The fucking bitch in the woods.”

Daryl and the doctor look at each other then back to you.

“Hey.” You can feel Daryl lean in, interlocking his fingers with yours. You give it a weak squeeze and slowly turn your head towards him, wincing in pain. He lays a hand on your head gently, “None uh that shit, don’t be forcing yourself to look at me.” He shakes his head, trying to blink away the gloss coating in his eyes.

“But.. I like looking at you.” You smile slightly and Daryl sniffles, giving you a slight laugh, “I know whatcha mean, darlin’.”

You raise your hand up slowly, laying it on his cheek, “If.. i-f it makes you feel any better, I ki-lled her because she s-aid shit, shit.”

Your body starts tensing as Carson wipes the excess blood from your thigh. You whimper, returning your attention back to Daryl, “About you.”

He scoff, shaking his head slightly, “Me?”

“Said.” You grit your teeth, squeezing Daryl’s hand and the table below you, “You were a long.. haired.. c-crossbow wielding psycho, but.. but that was before I-I pissed her off.. enough to say some.. more dumb shit.”

Your words are almost a mumble, but Daryl focuses enough on you to understand what you’re saying, “what else she say?”

You shake your head, “I’ll tell… you later.. Where’s Rosita?”

“She’s with Maggie and Enid.” Daryl assures you, “She’s fine. Jus’like you’re gonna be.” He brings your hand up slowly and gently presses his lips to your turning purple knuckles.

“Y’sure you don’t want any pain meds, y/n?” Daryl asks, his words full of concern. You nod slightly, “I’m sure.”

You squeeze Daryl’s hand tight and he lays his other one on top of your hand. You arch your back slightly, “Fuck, Carson that hurts.”

“I know, I know but I have to clean it out.” Carson answers as he continues to work on your thigh.

“Tell me more about what happened, hm.” Daryl reaches in ever so gently as he moves hair from your face without trying to touch any bruised and swollen skin, but you didn’t care what he did, “Y’think you can tell me how you kicked ass?”

“Mhm.” You close your eyes and reopen them slowly, “We.. went, to that apa-apartment complex and a-ah..” you wince, “..As we were deciding on where to go, they came up behind us, held us at gun point while she ran her mouth.”

“They, who?” Daryl asks, “What did they say, what did they want?”

You work through telling Daryl about when those people first arrived behind you and what all happened in the woods.

“She thought you were the leader’n not Rick?” He smooths his free hand over your hair, “You did kick ass, huh.”

You smile, letting out a sigh, “I wanted to e-end her the-” You wince at the sting from the second round of the antiseptic on your leg, “Second I s-saw her stupid smug looking face.”

You tense up, groaning lowly as tears form in your eyes, “Um, she.. she wanted to know why we, we were on her land? Took our weapons, back..packs..” you let out a long breathe, “Said she had other questions?”

You go into telling him about how you and Rosita got alone and what you were able to do to kill the first two guards and how dumb the woman was because she were to only send two.

“They didn’t ..do nothing, right?” Daryl asks, tensing up as he let’s out a huff, “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em all.”

“They’re both dead, Daryl.” You whimper out, taking a deep breath, “They’re all dead. Rosita and I took care of them.”

“Wait, hold on a minute. Y’both took out.. how many guards yourselves exactly?” Daryl asks and you fight back a laugh, knowing it’ll hurt, “Five. Rick and Michonne got the.. last guard.”

“Alright, y/n, I’m going to ask you one last time.” Carson looks at you and you turn your head slowly, “No.”

“Alright. Sutures are going to be going in soon, okay? I’m going to need you to try and sit as still as you possibly can, do you think you can do that?”

“Like I have a choice to go anywhere.” You mumble, “Sorry i-“

“Nah, stop that.” Daryl shakes his head, “You’re in pain, we get it.” Daryl glances up at you, squinting his eyes as he leans in to look at your neck.

He lets out a low growl, “If there’s more. M’gonna find them ‘em. They’re fucking dead.” Daryl’s leg was bouncing up and down.

“Stop, stop, Daryl. I’m fin-.” You dig your nails into his hand as your back arches with the first stitch going through your skin.

Your eyes start to close then reopen as you try to keep yourself awake and talking to Daryl, but you cannot form any words right now.

“Hey, hey.” Daryl tries to comfort you but he doesn’t really know how, “Stay right here, darlin’.” He lays his hand on your head leaning in towards you more, “Don’t y’even think about leavin’ me.”

“I’m not..” you whisper out, “Going anywhere.”

You clench your bruised jaw, keeping your lips shut tight whenyou feel Carson do another suture, “The l-eader..” you groan, taking a deep breath, “..said that-that this is just.. the beginning.. I don’t..”

Carson squeezes a little bit harder and you are forcing yourself not to kick him in the face, “Fuck I want to kill you now, too.”

He shrugs it off, knowing that it’s just the pain and anger talking. He just shakes his head as he keeps his eyes on his work.

Daryl lays his hand on the lesser bruised side of your face, “Y’don’t gotta keep talking, if ya don’t want to.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, “You’re doing so good, almost done, baby.”

You can’t lie, your heart absolutely fluttered out of your body with his words, “I-I got..” you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the final two sutures go in, a sigh of relief falling from your lips when Carson steps back, “Thigh is done, now let me have a look at that cheek.”

You turn your head, following commands from Carson all while Daryl still holds your hands.

He hates that you’re going through this, he’s kicking his own ass over not just going with you like you asked.

He blames himself, and you knew that, too.

Two hours has gone by, Carson said you could sleep so that’s what you did.

You opened your eyes, looking around to see that you’re in an actual bedroom and not the medical trailer anymore.

You try to sit up, just as Daryl comes back into the room, “Thought you would have been out longer, m’sorry.”

“Don’t do that.” You say soft as you look up at him. He shrugs and shakes his head, “Do what?”

He’s avoiding eye contact with you, that’s how you know something’s up.

“Can you help me sit up?”

Daryl is right there, sliding a hand on your back as you hold onto his other one to sit up.

“Good?” He asks, “How’s your pain?”

“I’m not taking any meds.” You argue and Daryl chuckles slightly, “Why are you are so stubborn sometimes.”

“Says you.” You smile up at him, shaking your head, “I just… I didn’t want to be taking it away from someone who needed it more than me, I-“

“Y’needed it though, baby. Somethin’ could’a-“ He stops for a second, “why ya lookin’ at me like that?”

You shake your head, a small smile resting on your lips, “What meds did I get?”

He sighs, “Look, I had Carson give ya antibiotics, a’right, but thats it.”

You nod, “Thank you.”

He looks up at you confused, “Y’not mad at me?”

“Mad at you for, what? Caring about me?” You shake your head, “I don’t think I could ever be mad at anyone who tries anything they can to keep me in their life.”

Daryl looks up at you, nodding as his eyes scan over you purple and stitched up cheek and your voice is low, “Could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But It happened to you.” Daryl stands up, walking over to the window before you can grab his arm, “Daryl.”

He keeps looking out and you sigh, “Don’t make me get up.”

He turns slightly, sighing before making his way back over to you, because he knows you’d try, “Don’t y’even think ‘bout it.”

“Look at me then.” You reach out, moving your finger slightly. His hand immediately finds yours and you can hear him trying not to get upset.

You give his hand a squeeze, “Hey.”

He leans over, careful not to put pressure on your hurt thigh. His arms wrap around you, holding you as you close your eyes.

You hand moves up and down his back, squeezing him tighter when you feel his body jolt slightly with a sniffle, “Daryl.” Your voice is just enough for him to hear, “it’s not your fault.”

You feel him nod, but he still doesn’t let go, “jus’don’t wanna loose ya.” He mumbles into your neck, laying his hand on the back of your head, “I like ya, a lot actually.”

“I told Rosita the same thing about you.”

He lifts his head, leaning back as he wipes his cheeks on the back of his gloved hand, “Been goin’ on t’me bout you, too.”

“That’s no surprise.” You laugh slightly, closing your eyes at the pain, “I’m good.” You look at him, knowing that he hates seeing you in pain, “I promise I’ll ask for medicine if it gets worse.”

Daryl goes to say something, but you cut him off, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

He rubs his thumb over his fingers, giving you a slight shrug and nod, “If y’want that,”

You tilt your head, reaching your hand out to him, “I want you.”

He smirks, laughing slightly as he shakes his head, “You’re gonna be the death’a me.” He leans over, hand moving up to rest on your neck.

You lean in, closing the space between you as your hands move up to cup his cheeks.

“You know you called me baby a few times.”

Daryl laughs softly, “I know.”

There’s a soft knock on the door before it opens, “Y/n?”

Daryl leans in, pecking your lips a few times before he tilts his head to kiss your cheek, “M’gonna go talk to Rick, ya good?”

You nod, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “More than good.” You smile and he kisses you a few more times before he stands up.

Rosita is standing there, arms crossed as she watches Daryl with a smile, “See, what did I say?”

He just shakes his head, a small on his face as he looks up at her, “You doin’ a’right?”

She nods, “I’m good.” You watch as Rosita comes over to sit next to you on the bed, “We’re good. Now, go.” She laughs slightly as she waves her hand, “We have things to talk about.”

——

Let me know what you think! I truly love each and every one of you. Thank you so much for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

part 2 to this little piece of brainrot 🤍

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,017 | rated: T

Being this far out from civilization isn’t all that bad, actually, now that he’s used to it.

It was one of the meager handful of places Chrissy suggested he go once he was out. It was here, to his winter home on St. John, or back to Wayne’s.

He didn’t want to go anywhere people already knew him, least of all back to his uncle. Nothing against Wayne, of course, but Eddie didn’t think it fair to show up on the now much older man’s doorstep as even more of a disappointment than when he’d shown back up the first time he didn’t graduate high school. The second time. The time he came back a newly-pardoned murderer (it's a long story).

Wayne didn’t need that from him again. 

He called, of course, damn near twice a day actually, Wayne insisting he make the trip up north and Eddie always shooting him down; “I’m fine now, it’s peaceful here.”, “I’m not going to get into any trouble Wayne, I’m just going to focus on writing, get better, y’know?.”, “Wayne, your truck won’t make it…No, I’m not gonna send a car down for you.. There isn’t even a bus station close by!”

Eventually, he stopped bugging about it, and their calls mostly focused on how to take care of the little place.

It was left to Chrissy by her own Uncle, a rugged geezer named Fritz, and she and Gareth would vacation to the tiny bungalow in the woods of Michigan’s upper peninsula regularly.

It’s got more amenities than any other random spot out here in the middle of the woods, but it’s still heated by wood stove mainly, and it’s only just recently got running water (he still doesn’t know how Chrissy or Gareth ever survived on outhouse alone) so there’s some household fixes he’s had to do while here that Wayne has helped with.

The water heater is tiny and the shower is even smaller, he’s had to chop wood every day to keep up with the nights that turn sharply cold from a mild fall day, he’s used channel locks more than he’d ever even seen a pair of the things in the first two weeks he’d been here but..it’s really grown on him.

He likes the space to breathe, to think, to exist without anything else happening around him. 

Just him, the pine trees, and maybe a bigfoot or two.

That’s also the downside.

There’s internet here, one of the first things Chrissy shelled out for when she got the place, but it’s not great, so majority of the time Eddie spends in his head. And that can be calming and downright terrifying.

He’s thought about so much in so little time that it eventually would need a place to go, and that place was into a notebook…then onto bars… then into his laptop… eventually, he had a whole-ass song. And nothing to do with it.

He’s Eddie Fucking Munson. What in the hell is he supposed to do with a folks-y singer/songwriter song? He can’t release it under the band, he’s not trying to cause a stir with rumors of a solo career when he just solo-y derailed them from the top of the world…

So he sits on it. 

For months.

He didn’t think that’s where this extended vacation was going, but now, post-song, he already feels lighter.

Don’t get him wrong, he still thinks about the subject of the song nearly 24/7, but it’s without the rocks in his stomach…mostly.

That is until the man himself shows up two weeks to the day after he sent Chrissy the song.

He still doesn’t know why he did; after he sent it, he panicked, thinking the lyrics would make her worry and send someone up here to babysit him.

But she didn’t; she asked him if he was okay, called him actually, wanting to hear his voice for herself she said, and whatever she heard must’ve satisfied her.

Eddie himself knew how distraught he still was, even after getting it all out on recording, but it was significantly lessened.

Now, instead of avoiding the thought of his first (and only, let’s be fully fucking honest here) love, he thinks about what he’s up to, if he’s okay, hurts himself with the imagined scenarios he cooked up for what Steve had done after Eddie left with a shitfuck excuse of a note. It’s like he poured his regrets out through song and his brain is now focused on what he would possibly say to him if he ever saw Steve again.

“I’m sorry.” definitely won’t cut it, “I miss you so fucking much.” just isn’t fair, and “I don’t know what I was thinking.” isn’t the truth. 

He knows what he was doing, he was trying to avoid confrontation. Avoid a goodbye. Avoid the inevitable heart wrenching blow he still caused himself..and probably to Steve too.

But now, staring across the small cleared yard of Fritz’s cabin with an armful of freshly-chopped wood tucked under an arm at what must obviously be a figment of his imagination, his mind completely blanks of any and all possible words.

The high, solid, yet somehow still hollow-sounding noise of the logs hitting each other on their way to the ground doesn’t break his shock (though he thinks belatedly that he should’ve made sure his foot was out of their way).

“Steve.” he hears someone say.

“Eddie,” Steve stares back, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing either. “I heard your song.”

He has that look on his face, the one that usually preludes a steadying pinch to the bridge of his nose to stave off tears. His hand doesn’t raise though, and Eddie can see the shine of the couple that do escape.

So Chrissy had aired the song after all. He wasn’t sure what she or the guys would want to do with it when he sent it, but if this wasn’t a dream, he’d have to thank her.

“You found me.”

“Yeah sweetheart,” Steve breathes out a laugh, “I found you.”

star divider is from @saradika

i also put this on AO3 in my tumblr things collection!

@releasethexbarakat @t-boyeddie @weirdandabsurd42 @weescottishcrowley @stedumpsterfire @hammity-hammer @extra-transitional @autumncrocusandladybug @steddie-island @finntheehumaneater @sageclipse @zerokrox-blog @goodolefashionedloverboi @stevesbipanic

[lunarbuck]

Dance With The Devil (1)

Pairing: mafia!Loki x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.4k

Summary: Your world turns upside down, but this is only the beginning.

Warnings: kidnapping, fear, swearing, violence

A/N: Yay first chapter!! I can't wait for y'all to read it :) please let me know what you think <3 Some dialogue is taken from the movie. beta'd by the amazing @purpleshallot :))) happy birthday my dear!!!

series masterlist | main masterlist | script | fic playlist

chapter 2

You have always preferred fairytales to real life. True love’s first kiss, fate, all of it. Not to be cliché, but it’s been your escape. From a young age, you found yourself wrapped up in worlds full of magic. Of happily ever afters and fairy godmothers. 

As an adult, you still retreat into those stories for comfort. On difficult days, you lose yourself to mystical places, wishing you could be there, living those lives. You find it cruel, really, to open the door to other worlds like that and not let the dreamers in.

Today, the fall air is crisp and fresh as you board the bus after class. Leaves the color of fire fall from the trees and onto the street, crunching under people’s feet as they walk past. You lean your head against the window and pull out one of your favorite books. You always find yourself returning to it, no matter what happens in your life. You’ve read it so many times you have it memorized by now. The story takes you far away from New York to a place with deadly sword fights, disguised princes, and magic. 

As you turn the page, your heart tugs in your chest, finding yourself at your favorite part of the book. The unassuming and quiet princess meets the prince for the first time. He falls for her instantly, but she doesn’t know who he is, as he’s disguised as a commoner.

It’s easy to get wrapped up in the story, but when your phone buzzes in your pocket, you know you need to check it. You scroll through a few work emails, planning responses in your head when you realize what time it is.

You continue looking at the screen, expecting to see a text from your father that he got home from physical therapy safely. He should’ve been back at least 15 minutes ago.

But there’s no text, no phone call, nothing. Your heartbeat speeds up, you can hear blood rushing in your ears. You try to calm your nerves, telling yourself that maybe his phone died, and he forgot. Your father has always been a little bad with tech. There’s probably nothing wrong.

You repeat the words to yourself the entire commute home, unable to focus on the story that had captivated you just a few moments ago. You keep whispering them over and over as you walk up the cracked steps to your house. You even say them as you search the place for your father.

Your mind goes silent when you find the house completely empty and your father’s cell phone on the ground, the screen shattered.

Shit.

Your head spins as you try to figure out what to do. This isn’t like your father. He’s never disappeared before. He would never go somewhere without leaving at least a note on the fridge or the counter. 

After a few deep breaths, you pull out your phone and call 911.

“911, what is your emergency?” You barely hear the words leave your mouth as you rattle off your name, address, and the fact that your father is suddenly missing. You tell the dispatcher when the last time you had seen your father was and that you found his phone cracked on the ground.

The dispatcher stays on the line with you, but you don’t pay attention to what she says, instead staring at your father’s spot at the dinner table, a newspaper folded just the way he likes beside a cup of coffee, long gone cold. He always insists on having one in the morning, even though he hates the taste.

A few minutes later, a police cruiser pulls up to your house, lights on but no siren. You scramble out of the house and through the front door and find Griffin, your friend from Undergrad, leaning against the car casually.

He’s dressed in his police uniform, pressed and without wrinkles, but as you get closer, you can see the bags under his eyes. Knowing him, he probably was out late last night drinking. He’s always been that type. Even since graduation and getting a job, nothing’s changed.

Griffin has always been around, even when you didn’t want him to be. Him and his deep brown eyes that are always watching over you with a protectiveness that never seems to fade.

“Hey, Griff,” you say quickly, eyes shooting around the block for any sign of your father. Everything looks normal as if your world hadn’t been turned upside down.

Griffin scrutinizes you; the heat in his gaze is evident to you, and you try to shrink away from it. You know he’s always had a thing for you, but you pretend not to notice just like you always do. You’re too busy, too preoccupied with literally everything, to get into a relationship with him or anyone else for that matter.

“So your dad didn’t come home?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest as if this were a regular conversation between the two of you. 

“It’s more than that,” you snap, noticing they only sent one officer. Why wasn’t he with his partner? Why did he come alone? “Where’s your partner? Is he out looking for Papa?” The childhood name for your father slips so easily from your lips that you wouldn’t have noticed it had Griffin not made a face.

“No, it’s just me on this right now. I wanted to check it out before we declared him missing.” Anger bubbles in your chest, but you shove it down. Being angry won’t help right now. You need to focus. That’s the only thing that will help your father.

“Okay, where should we start?”

Griffin explains how a missing person case works, and you nod along with him, trying to make sense of it all. Your father has no enemies that you know of, no one that would wish harm upon him.

As you go through this with Griffin, your eyes wander away from him and over to the houses around you. It’s possible someone saw something; maybe they just didn’t know what they were seeing.

You cock your head, noticing your neighbor across the street has a camera above their doorbell. You start walking to the house, not bothering to explain your action to Griffin. He follows, though, seeming to understand.

To your surprise, your neighbor is more than willing to share the footage with you and the police. She brings out her laptop and rewinds the video until Griffin tells her to stop. Your hands shake as she plays it.

In the grainy video, you see a black van pull up outside your house. Four men dressed in black jump out and walk straight into your home. You know for a fact you’d locked it that morning. How did they get in?

It’s surreal. It’s like a movie. A terrible, shitty movie about men breaking into your house and kidnapping your father. The trees blow in the wind, a bird lands on the pavement, and everyone keeps moving like nothing is happening in the house.

A few moments later, the men emerge from the house, dragging your father between them. He’s fighting back as best he can, but he can’t do much in his weakened condition.

You want to scream, you want to throw up, you want to rewind time and make it so none of this ever happened.

The video has no sound, but you can only imagine his calls for help. How they went unanswered.

Griffin thanks your neighbor after getting a copy of the footage and walks you back to his cruiser. Your legs feel like jelly, unable to support the weight of everything any longer.

“Grab whatever you need for the next few hours and come with me,” he instructs, voice tight. “We’re gonna find your dad.”

When you arrive with Griffin at the police station, you’re surprised by the lack of urgency the other officers give to your father’s disappearance. Is this not important to them?

Griffin lets you sit at his desk while he shows a few people the video, trying to see what people know. The police station feels hospital-like. People rush around, calling out odd codes and names while you sit in the middle of the chaos. Everything smells like the floor cleaner they use. It burns your nose. 

For a while, you scroll through your phone aimlessly, not really sure what you’re looking for before putting it away and reading your book instead.

You finally reach chapter 3. The princess has just discovered the true identity of the prince. The words make your heart flutter despite the noise and disorder surrounding you. You manage to lose yourself in the pages, the world around you fading away.

The prince holds the princess close, cupping her cheek in his hand. They stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, not yet knowing that they were meant to be. The universe had granted them the greatest gift of all, true love. You know what happens next, but that doesn’t stop your brain from coming up with all the ways they might be challenged in the future. 

A hand clasps your shoulder, pulling you from the fairytale world and crashing you into reality. Griffin is at your side, a grim look on his face.

“What?” you ask quietly, not sure you want to hear what he’s found.

“Come with me.” He grabs your arm, tugging you up from the chair. Your book tumbles to the ground, but he doesn’t give you a chance to retrieve it. He guides you to an interrogation room and shuts the door behind him.

“What is going on?” you ask, ripping your arm from his grasp. 

“I got an image of the license plate from the car your dad got into.” You want to interrupt and correct Griffin. Your father didn’t “get into” the car, he was kidnapped and shoved, but you keep your mouth shut. “I tracked it to a few fake identities, but I finally found something solid. All these fake guys work for the same very real mafia family. The Laufeyson family has a pretty big presence around here, and I think they’re the ones who have your dad.”

The mafia? No way. You shake your head, and Griffin gives you a pitying look. You hate it.

“Papa would never get involved with the mafia. He has no reason to. Even when he stopped working, we had enough money for treatments, his inventions always made enough…” your voice trails off when you think of the past few months. How stressed your father had seemed, the odd phone calls, you’d thought nothing of them at the time. But now…

“Look, your dad was sick and desperate. He probably thought he had no other option.” You hate how he talks about your father in the past tense as if he’s already gone.

“Where is he?” you ask before you can spiral into what-ifs and hypotheticals.

“I’ve got an address. There’s no promising it’s where he is, though.” You nod, and Griffin hands you a scrap of paper, an address scrawled messily on it. “We’ll go tomorrow morning. Right now, you need to lie low in case they’re looking for you.” You roll your eyes and scoff. Does he really expect you to wait until tomorrow? 

He’s an idiot if he thinks that.

Griffin drives you back to your house and gives you an awkwardly long hug before getting back in his car and leaving. For a guy that claims to care about you so much, he has a funny way of showing it.

You quickly gather some belongings, unsure how long you’ll be gone, and put the address Griff gave you into your phone. It’s far, too far for you to commute or bike. You don’t have a car, so you decide to call an Uber despite the cost. It’ll be worth it to find your father.

The car arrives after 10 minutes, but honestly, it felt like hours. Every moment that passes, every second that goes by, feels like an eternity being stuck in the unknown. Not knowing what he’s going through.

Your driver is friendly enough, though as he gets closer to the address, he gets more and more cagey. 

Your phone buzzes, and you spare a glance down at it, seeing that Griffin has texted you a few times.

Lmk if you need anything

You wanna get dinner? I got off early.

Hello? Whyre you ignoring me?

You groan inwardly at the messages. Griffin has never been the romantic type, and clearly, nothing has changed since the last time he asked you out. You don’t bother responding, tucking your phone in your pocket as you stare out the window.

The car comes to a stop before arriving at your desired destination. Your driver explains that he can’t go further than this, so you climb out of the car and thank him anyway, tipping even though he didn’t take you where you wanted.

In the distance, you see a giant gated mansion on top of a hill. Without even looking at your phone, you know that’s where you need to go. The place looks straight out of a movie; of course, it’s where the bad guys live.

You make the trip on foot, watching out for anyone suspicious. The gate around the house is tall, but you scale it somewhat quickly, surprising yourself with your newfound upper-body strength.

The sun has set by the time you’re crossing the well-kept lawn, chilling you to your core. You carefully creep around the house’s perimeter, looking for a way in. You find a window cracked open and are stunned at your luck.

The window slides open easily, and you slip through the opening, finding yourself in a large sitting room. The plush carpet dampens your footsteps, making you nearly silent as you creep through the room.

As you push open the door to the hallway, you lock eyes with a man down the corridor. You freeze, unable to move away even as you will your feet to move. The man doesn’t call for help, though. Instead, he tilts his head as if to get a better look at you.

He steps toward you, then furrows his brow, thinking better of it. You wait for his next move with bated breath.

“Your father,” he whispers, eyes darting around, probably watching for other people. “Go upstairs.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks in the opposite direction, seemingly content with pretending he never saw you. 

How did he know you’re here for your father? They must not get many visitors that arrive on good terms; maybe this is a common occurrence?

You wait an agonizing few minutes until you’re sure the coast is clear before you dart to the staircase he’d gestured to.

The mansion is more extensive than it appeared from the outside, and you only realize the size as you climb the sweeping stairs to an upper level of the house. Corridors filled with doors leading to different rooms catch your attention, but you know that you must look for any sign of your father and avoid getting lost in the maze of the home.

A chill runs through you as you pass through the house. Even though you’ve seen signs of life here, it feels like a museum. It doesn’t feel like a home. No one really lives here; they just pass through. Existing and moving on.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you hear him. Your father coughs after every other word, barely getting the sounds out. He sounds so weak.

“Please, someone,” he groans quietly before breaking into another fit of coughs. You practically run down the hall until you reach a room at the very end, the door cracked slightly open. Not caring if anyone sees you, you push the door open to reveal your father.

Bile rises in your throat at the sight of him.

He’s tied tightly to a pole in the center of the room, hands cuffed behind his back around the bar, and feet bound at his ankles. From what you’ve seen, the rest of the house has hardwood or carpet. This room has concrete floors.

This room was built for pain, for bloodshed.

Even in the darkness of the room, you can see bruises bloom around his eyes and on his cheeks. Blood splatters on the ground. You can only imagine the pain he’d been through before your arrival.

Your father must not have heard or seen you come in because he continues to whisper his pleas.

“Papa,” you say gently as you cross the room and crouch in front of him. You place your hands on both sides of his face; he is so cold against your skin. “Papa, I’m here.”

Your father’s eyes open as far as they can with the swelling, but he finally sees you. “Oh, my, how did you find me?” he croaks. You shake your head, reaching around to see how his hands are cuffed. You hold one of his hands in yours and wince at the temperature.

“Your hands are like ice,” you whisper, returning your attention to his face. “We have to get you out of here.” Your father shakes his head, even though the action appears to pain him.

“Please, I want you to leave this place,” he begs, desperation lacing his voice.

You ignore his words, focusing on trying to undo the binds on his feet. “Who did this to you?”

“There is no time to explain,” he urges, “you have to go. Now!” You sit back on your heels and stare at your father in disbelief.

“I won’t leave you!” Your tone is harsh, but you don’t understand why he wants you to leave him behind.

Suddenly, someone grabs your shoulder, pulling you away from your father with incredible strength. You scramble out of their grasp and back to your father, unable to catch a glimpse of the person that grabbed you before they slip into the shadows.

“What are you doing here?” the person, a man, asks harshly, spitting the words at you.

“Run,” your father groans fearfully. You search your father’s face for something, anything, to help you through this.

You spin around, pressing your back against your father in an attempt to protect him from the new man.

“Who are you?” you ask the man cloaked in shadow. 

“Who are you?” the man asks in response, his words sharp and deadly.

“I’ve come for my father. Please let him out; can’t you see he’s sick?” you reply, voice even and calm, not showing how terrified you are.

“Your father is a thief. He owes me.”

You shake your head; he must be lying. “But he could die. Please, I’ll do anything!” Desperation creeps into your voice, but you hold firm. You want to cry, you want to scream, but you don’t. You won’t, not until your father is safe.

“There’s nothing you can do. He’s my prisoner.” The words are swift, his tongue like a whip.

“There must be some way I can–” You turn back to face your father, searching his face for the answers. “Take me instead!” It takes everything in you to pull your eyes away from your father and face the shadowed man.

“You? You would take his place?” He sounds unsure, troubled by what you’ve proposed. As if you’ve caught him off guard.

Your father struggles against the binds, trying to grab onto you. “No! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Even though it pains you, you don’t look back.

“If I did, would you let him go?” You can’t see his face, but you can tell the man is mulling over his choices. He holds your life in his fingers.

“Yes, but you must promise to stay here forever.” Your heart sinks, but you know that it is for the best that you take your father’s place. He has access to the money you’ve been making, to his treatment services, everything. It would be easier with you there, but you know he’ll be able to care for himself until he finds a caretaker. 

As anger burns inside your chest, you stare at the shadowed man in front of you. You want to see the man forcing you and your father into this fate. You want to look him in the eye as he sentences you to death at his hand.

“Come into the light,” you whisper, barely able to form the words. The man doesn’t move for a moment, but after a breath, he steps forward and into the light cast from the window.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. He’s tall, towering over you like a mountain. His black hair is slicked back in the front, though a piece has fallen out of place and covers one of his eyes. Dressed in an all-black suit, the man looks as though he is made of the shadows that had just been concealing him. Bright eyes stare down at you as if they can see right through you.

“No,” your father says, sputtering and coughing. “No, I won’t let you do this!” 

It’s as if you’re in a trance. You can’t break your eyes away from the man in front of you. “You have my word.” The promise slips from your lips as if not yours. 

The man cocks his head, grinning slyly. “It is done.”

All it takes is a quick knock on the door behind him, and the man has summoned two more people to the room.

They rush in, moving you aside and grabbing your father. You try to catch him, to hug him, to just let him know that everything will be okay, but the raven-haired man grabs your arms and pulls you away, holding you against his chest. One arm brackets around your front while the other covers your mouth, muffling your yelling.

You struggle against him, willing him to just let you say goodbye, but your efforts are futile.

It doesn’t take long for the two men to drag your father away. You can’t help but feel like you’ll never see him again. The feeling lodges itself deep in your gut, making you feel a heaviness like you’ve never experienced before.

When it is just you and the raven-haired man left in the room, he releases you. You crumple to the floor, finally allowing your tears to fall freely. The ground is cold and hard beneath you as you wet it with your tears.

The raven-haired man says nothing for a long time, letting the sound of your sobs echo between the walls.

When your throat is dry, and you have no tears left in your body, he moves to stand in front of you instead of behind you.

“Come,” he says curtly as if speaking to a dog.

You shake your head, holding it in your hands. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye. I’ll never see him again.” Finally, you look up at the man. Fury rips through your veins. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

If the man feels bad or feels any remorse, he doesn’t reveal it. “I’ll show you to your room.”

His words take you by surprise. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. Is he going to give you a room? It wouldn’t have shocked you if he’d just told you to sleep in this torture room. “My room? But I thought–”

“You want to stay here? In this… cell?” he asks, tilting his head. The faint light from the window makes his eyes shine. You search his face for any trace of emotion but find nothing. His blue eyes stay trained on you, his lips pressed into a line. 

“No,” you reply, annoyance clear from your tone. That earns you the smallest of smirks. His right eye ticks. He must not like being on the receiving end of an attitude. Well, he better get used to it.

“Then follow me.” The raven-haired man doesn’t help you stand. He doesn’t provide you any support as you wobble on weak legs. He just stands by the door, waiting for you to catch up.

You walk a few steps behind the man, following him like a shadow as he guides you through the corridors. He points to different doors, other paths through the home, but you don’t really hear him.

It’s like you’re underwater; everything is muted and warped. Your thoughts spin through your head, and you’re barely able to process them as they fly past. It all happened so quickly, you’d acted without thinking through all the possible outcomes, and now you’re stuck here alone forever.

The man comes to a stop in front of a pair of ornate wooden doors. He stares down at the handles, but you stare at him. He’s yet to tell you anything about him; he is a mystery to you.

“You are to never step foot in the west wing,” he says through gritted teeth, shifting his eyes toward you. “Do I make myself clear?” 

You take a shaky breath and look at the carvings on the door. They seem to tell a story, but before you get a chance to look for the start, you find yourself speaking. “What’s in there?”

“It’s forbidden.” You flinch back from his harsh tone, dropping your eyes to the floor.

The man turns away from the door and guides you down a new hallway. You notice more art hung on the walls in this area, lots of classics. Your heart tugs when you see some familiar paintings; it’s barely a comfort, but it’s something.

“If there is anything you need,” he says, pushing open the door to a bedroom, “my people will attend to you.” The room is simple, with only a bed, a dresser, and a vanity, but it looks clean from what you can tell. 

He doesn’t wait for you to get settled, doesn’t even tell you where the kitchen or anything else is. The second you step into the room, he shuts the door with a thud.

You barely make it to the bed before your legs give out. You throw yourself onto the blankets and pillows, a sobbing heap as you come apart.

You don’t care how loud you’re being. You don’t care that the man might be standing outside listening. Your sobs rip through you, releasing emotions you haven’t felt in ages. This is bigger than just your father, bigger than being trapped in the home of a man you’ve never met before.

It’s only the beginning.

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Series Tags: @huntress-artemiss @buckysteveloki-me @raelorns21 @yukiartistz @sarhabee @apollonshootafar

General Tags: @searchf0rtheskyline @writerwrites @late-to-the-party-81 @jobean12-blog @prettylittlepluviophile @prettywhenicry4

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Right in the Numbers - Chapter 4

Prev - Next

Summary: Bobby and Don decide to take things a step further

Words: 2777

-

AO3

Or

They’re lying in bed after sex, tangled up in each other when Bobby brings it up.

“Would you want to come on the channel sometime?”

Don blinks rapidly. That feels like crossing a line but he’s not sure in what way.

“I could angle the camera so your face won’t be seen,” Bobby continues on. “But only if you want.”

“You get more money with a partner, don’t you?” Don hates this is the first thing his mind comes up with and he turns away, embarrassed.

“I mean, yeah,” Bobby laughs, “but that’s not what this is about. Just wanted to see if you were interested.”

Thinking it over, the idea grows on Don. It’s quite the turn-on, the anonymous partner while Bobby is begging for his dick.

“Huh, that looks like a yes,” Bobby jabs Don’s side.

“Okay, okay, yes,” Don relents. “The more I think about it, the hotter it gets.”

“Exactly,” Bobby grins, “course we’ll have to plan it all out, have our signals. So it’s going to be a little unsexy before then.”

“That’s fine,” Don shrugs. “No worse than usual.”

“Hey,” Bobby pokes his side again.

Don kisses Bobby, a smile plastered on his face as he does so. Bobby grunts, but when Don pulls back he trails after, pecking his lips.

“Alright, I’ll accept that, Don Hume, but you watch yourself.”

“Man, pulling out my last name in bed, huh?”

“You’d rather I call you Humesy?”

Don doesn’t need those wires to cross and shakes his head. “No thanks, Mochsy.”

“You’re the worst,” Bobby rolls his eyes.

“Not yet,” Don muses, “I could be calling you Bob.”

“Oh god. Wait, actually that’s kinda cute.”

Don groans, pushes Bobby’s face away with his entire hand.

“Nope, not getting rid of me.”

Bobby plasters himself to Don’s body like a koala in a tree. For a moment, his face even scrunches up and Don nearly dies at the sight.

“So, our cam session,” Bobby begins again.

Don listens, agreeing with everything Bobby suggests. It doesn’t have to be perfect. After all, it’s just for fun. Don’s camera-shy nerves calm down a little and he trusts Bobby.

Unfortunately, they’re on the road in a few days and Bobby would rather they do it in the safety of his apartment. Don agrees but the anticipation is almost too much. Especially for Bobby.

Don is sitting towards the back of the bus, pen cap in his mouth, headphones in his ears. He’s working on a crossword when Bobby flops down next to him, pulling out a notebook from his backpack.

Simply watching, Don’s eyes then go wide when he sees the words “Sex Night” at the top of a page, underlined three times. The pen cap in his mouth drops, never to be seen again.

“Here?” He hisses as Bobby clicks his pen.

“Half the guys are asleep. Chuck and Roger are practically rubbing each other off. We’re fine.”

Don is slow to pull out his headphones, his cheeks hot and flushed. Bobby already has several bullet points written, but there’s enough between each space for Don’s input.

It even says that, a heart drawn after Don’s name.

“You’re like a girl in high school,” Don mutters.

“Well, lucky for you I’m not, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. So, blindfold, yay or nay?”

Don frowns, tries to work past his embarrassment. “Kinda like seeing all of your face.”

Bobby nods thoughtfully, crosses out the blindfold bullet. “Man, you should fuck me until I can’t even speak.”

How Bobby can talk about sex like this when others can hear is beyond Don. He shrinks in his seat though he doesn’t see any eyes on him.

“Can I,” Don clears his throat, “Can I pin your wrists or hold onto them?”

“Hell yeah,” Bobby beams. “Love being restrained.”

Don has noticed this, the way Bobby relaxes the moment he has his entire weight on him.

And the one time Don grabbed Bobby’s wrists to stop him from getting hit by a car that ignored the traffic lights. He thought it was just adrenaline that made Bobby’s eyes go wide until he saw the outline of his cock hardening in his jeans.

Bobby scribbles some more thoughts down though most don’t go beyond one word.

“What do you mean by ‘Position’?,” Don points.

“Well I’m thinking doggy-style. That way I’m on the bed, you’re standing and then your head is just out of frame.”

Don reaches out, flips through the other pages of the notebook. From what he can see, the rest is all hockey stats.

He raises a brow at Bobby who just shrugs.

“Believe me, my channel and our practices require the same amount of strategy.”

Don is in no spot to argue and he just nods along to Bobby’s other suggestions, adding an opinion here and there. By the time they reach the hotel, they have a solid plan, Don’s excitement close to matching Bobby’s.

In the meantime, Bobby snags them a room together yet again and they collapse into exhaustion after some quick hand jobs.

The game is a rough one. They fall behind and catching up will require a miracle. It doesn’t help that everyone on the team seems to rotate through the penalty box, making strategies all the more stressful.

Then, Don gets a lucky break. He has the puck and passes it to Shorty who scores their first goal that game. It’s enough to raise morale and soon, the other team is left in the dust.

“So fucking good,” Bobby moans as Don sucks him off in their hotel room. “You got us there, baby. You’re perfect on the ice.”

Pride pushes Don to give Bobby an amazing blowjob, leaving him a shaking, whimpering mess when he finally comes. Bobby is too much of a wreck to reciprocate, but he pulls Don on top of him, lets Don jerk off and come all over his face.

Don doesn’t know why, but he takes a picture with his phone of Bobby, disheveled and covered in his seed.

“Saving it for the spank bank?”

“God, you’re so vulgar,” Don shakes his head with a smile.

When they’re finally back home, Don finds himself counting down the days until their themed Sex Night. They make it through practices all right, but any moment alone finds their hands on each other.

Don wonders if there’s more behind this, if Bobby is finally feeling the same way. Maybe after the stream he’ll finally sit Bobby down and talk to him.

But he probably won’t.

The fated day arrives and Don’s a bit of a nervous wreck. He wants to be so good for Bobby, doesn’t want to be the reason Bobby’s channel tanks.

“Relax,” Bobby rubs his arms. “Even if you…hit my head so hard I end up in the ER, it’ll be fine.”

That sounds terrible and something that would actually happen to Don. His eyes widen as a million worst case scenarios sprint through his mind.

“Donny,” Bobby grabs Don’s face with both hands. “Breathe in and out for me.”

Bobby does a calming breath exercise and Don copies it. He’s surprised how much it helps, his shoulders dropping just a little. He can do this.

“There we go,” Bobby smiles. “Now, come fuck me, darling.”

Bobby takes them to his bedroom, his camera and laptop all set up. There is a light ring facing the bed and Don wonders how Bobby doesn’t ever have to squint during his streams.

“Hey everyone,” Bobby bounces onto his bed and smiles at the camera. “Got a special treat for you tonight.”

Don peeks at the laptop screen, his eyes going cross-eyed with how many programs are open. There’s audio, quality meters, the chat, even a camera view so Bobby can see himself as he’s camming.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is and Don swallows. He’s never had an interest in mirror sex, but maybe he’ll have to try it with Bobby sometime. Bobby grins at Don as if reading his thoughts before he takes off his shirt, grabs a few last minute items.

“I’ve got a guest with me tonight. Not telling you who he is, but I think you’ll like him.” Bobby winks at Don.

The corner of Don’s mouth twitches and he’s not sure what to do, hands flexing at his sides.

“Go on, strip,” Bobby commands and Don is quick to obey. “He’s a great listener,” Bobby tells the chat.

Don throws his shirt at Bobby and he laughs, tossing it to the side. When Don is bare, he sees Bobby has undressed all the way too except for the one detail Bobby insisted on. A cock ring nestles at his base, the yellow a bright contrast against his dick that pulses an angry red.

Bobby sighs, wistful and needy while he braces himself on his hands and knees. He pushes the condom and lube in Don’s direction, wiggles his hips oh so teasingly. Don wants nothing more than to put his mouth on Bobby’s skin, but that would put him in the camera’s view. So, he has to resist with all his might.

Going for the lube first, Don slicks up his fingers before teasing Bobby, barely touching his hole. Bobby can easily take a finger right away, but tonight, he’s supposed to make Bobby a begging mess.

“Come on,” Bobby pleads, trying to push back on Don’s finger.

With his clean hand, Don smacks Bobby’s ass and he jolts with a heady moan. “I’ll be good,” he lies, “I’ll be so good.”

Don bites back a laugh, grants Bobby a single finger pushing in. Bobby’s whine is a little too pointed, just for the chat, and Don swirls his finger around.

“I can take three,” Bobby puts on his act. “I can take your cock right now.”

Don rakes his hand down Bobby’s back, savors the shiver that runs along his spine. He’s dug in deep enough to leave red marks that will fade in a few minutes, to remind Bobby of his submission. Bobby hisses but Don knows he loves the pain, sees the way his eyes roll up. Don abruptly shoves in another finger and Bobby chokes, grips onto the sheets.

Out of the corner of his eye, Don sees the chat flying by and he’s again amazed that Bobby can keep his focus.

“D—Baby, please.” Bobby almost slips but Don doesn’t mind.

A part of him wants everyone to know who Bobby belongs to, that he has special privileges none of them will ever have.

Bobby is rocking back on three fingers now, moaning and gasping for the camera. God, to watch this back later will drive Don mad. A wicked thought enters his mind and he curls his fingers, driving them home.

The cry that leaves Bobby is genuine and he almost bursts into tears. “There, do that again.”

Don obliges, his cock throbbing as Bobby throws his head back with a loud moan.

“Fuck me,” Bobby gasps.

Pulling his fingers out, Don scrambles with the condom, more lube before he’s positioning himself at Bobby’s hole. He nudges the head in, testing Bobby’s patience just to see what will break him. With a low groan, Bobby takes over and sheathes himself on Don’s cock to the hilt. He shoots a glare over his shoulder though there’s no malice behind it.

Don grins, gives Bobby a shrug which gets him an eye roll in return.

“He’s an asshole too,” Bobby tells the camera and that’s when Don sharply thrusts into Bobby, cutting off anything else Bobby was going to say.

Bobby whimpers, his arms shaking as Don fucks him, far from gentle and in no rush to finish. Don could come from this alone, but there’s still some more to show off.

Don rolls his hips making Bobby spout nonsense. His voice engulfs Don, spurring him faster, rougher, punching gasping breaths out of Bobby. Don catches a glimpse of Bobby’s cock and he almost feels sorry for him. It looks like it’s on the verge of bursting, the ring constricting Bobby’s pleasure.

“I wanna come,” Bobby begs with Don’s pointed thrusting. “I’ll do anything.”

Maybe he can use that to his advantage later, but for now, Don trails his hand along Bobby’s thigh, starts to reach around to his cock.

Bobby slaps his hand away and looks back at Don. “Not yet, baby.”

Don nods, then remembers part of their list. Pushing Bobby to lean forward, Don then takes Bobby’s wrists in his hands once his upper body is braced against the bed.

Bobby becomes a rag doll, uselessly trying to move his hips as Don rams into him. Don squeezes Bobby’s wrists, loves seeing Bobby fall to pieces. If this were his last night with him, Don wouldn’t regret a single moment.

“I want you to come on me,” Bobby chokes out between thrusts.

Don taps Bobby’s wrist to agree and pulls out so he can flip Bobby over. Hair sticks to Bobby’s forehead, his chest heaves all while his eyes bore right into Don’s soul.

Don all but tears off the condom, his breathing ragged and short. Giving himself no time to think, Don furiously pumps his cock until he’s spilling over Bobby. The corners of Bobby’s mouth quirk, his eyes closed, as if he’s in a hot shower and not under Don, his skin painted with cum.

Don has to take a moment to collect himself, to just look at Bobby. God, he’s beautiful.

Using his foot to nudge Don’s leg, Bobby gets his attention, brows raised. With a few quick nods, Don takes Bobby’s cock in his hand, settles back into their scene.

Bobby whimpers, writhes, but just as he gets close, Don pulls his hand away. Tears fall down Bobby’s face and he begs Don to let him finish.

Don wants to kiss all those tears away as he works Bobby’s cock, watching his breaths grow shorter. When Bobby taps his thigh, Don takes the cock ring off and shoves three fingers into Bobby, other hand pumping furiously. Bobby comes, shaking, his mouth open in a silent scream. It looks almost painful but when Bobby collapses against the bed, a hint of a smile gracing his face, Don doesn’t have to worry.

“I love you.”

It’s just a whisper, but Don catches every word. He stares at Bobby, mouth dropping open.

Then, just like that, the moment is over and Bobby, though tired, props himself up to look at the camera.

“Thanks for joining us,” Bobby manages. “See you next time.”

He shuffles over, turns off the camera before falling back on the bed.

Don is frozen where he stands. His ears must have been tricking him. Bobby’s eyes are closed and Don can only watch the rise and fall of his chest, coated in their shared seed.

It’s suffocating. Don steps back, looks around for his clothes. As quietly as he can, he starts to dress. He needs to at least not be naked before he does something stupid.

“You heading out already?” Bobby is looking at him, but Don refuses to meet his eyes.

“I,uh—,” Don doesn’t know what to say.

He’s scared of his own doubt, how his voice catches, snatched away to ridicule him.

“Don,” Bobby starts and Don holds his breath as he stares at the wall. “Forget about what I said earlier.”

Bobby doesn’t have to explain just what he means.

“Got caught up in the moment. And sure, I love you, but like…as a best friend, you know?”

Searing pain courses through Don’s body as he nods. Of course. That’s all this is. Just a fuck.

He grabs his shirt from the other side of the bed, feels Bobby’s eyes watching his every move. His skin prickles and Don has to get out of here.

“See you at practice?”

Don takes a chance, looks at Bobby. If he pretends, he can see trepidation in Bobby’s stare, an anxious call for Don to fight back.

“Yeah, see you,” Don swallows.

The walk out of Bobby’s apartment is too long and Don fumbles for his keys. He won’t let his mind stray, not until he’s at least made it to his car.

In the compacted silence, Don grips the steering wheel and takes a few breaths. A hollow ache carves itself into his chest, spreading into his bones. He’s an idiot for thinking he had a chance. Always too hopeful, too naive, look where it’s gotten him.

With a shuddered breath, the first of his tears fall and Don gives in to his sobs.

[wintercoatkiszka]

Drops of Gold

howdy howdy all! this is my first foray into writing (good) fan fic and also writing to a prompt (flufftober) hopefully i can keep up but i hope yall enjoy this fluffy little drabble regardless :) wc: about 1.9k

You put the finishing layer of lipgloss on, smacking your lips together for good measure and turn around to face your roommate and best friend, who’s been waiting ever so patiently on the edge of the bathtub for you to acknowledge her.

“How do I look?” You ask, a slight panic underlying the simple question. “You look hot, I’m not going to lie,” She responds with a slow nod of her head. You do, to be fair, in a pair of thrifted, well worn jeans that you’ve cuffed along the ankles and a brown, velvet halter top that hugs your figure. You let out a huff and lean back against the vanity, tucking a stray piece of curled hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, bu-” Your protest is interrupted by a buzz from your phone, the screen lighting up with his name and a simple message reading ‘Here for you love’. A blush crosses your cheeks immediately and you shoot an apologetic glance back at your roommate who is looking at you expectantly. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’ll see you tonight?” You offer, half jogging out of the small bathroom and to the front door of your apartment where a pair of Doc Martins, a corduroy jacket and your small purse are waiting.

“Remember, don’t add to the population, take away from the population or end up in jail! Be safe, I love you!” Your roommate shouts from the bathroom and you can’t help but laugh as you hurry out the door to meet your date’s warm, running car.

Fall seemed to come early to town this year; the trees are already turning beautiful shades of red, orange and yellow, the weather refuses to bump any higher than seventy degrees and the neighbors have already begun to put out their harvest and Halloween decorations. It’s your favorite time of year and, over a pair of steaming mugs of seasonal coffee, you learned it’s also your new partner’s favorite season as well. Jake, beautiful Jake, with his shaggy brown hair and eyes that seem like they’ve seen much more than his twenty-seven years of life could have allowed him to see. He quickly enchanted you with his deep and profound comments and his sharp sense of humor and this is now the third unofficial date that the pair of you have been on.

Each starts just like this, you hustling to his car, still pulling on you jacket, the stupid grin on your face that you can’t ever seem to wipe off in time and him, looking, no observing, straight ahead, tapping his fingers in time to an ever changing classic rock song. You’ll get in the car and he’ll look over at you, a shy smile crossing his lips briefly before he turns down the music and shifts to face you.

“How is it that every time I see you, you manage to get even more beautiful than the last time we were together?” He asks, causing the blush to return to your cheeks and leaving you speechless. This time he’s dressed in a white buttoned shirt that has only been done up to about mid chest, the top two or three buttons undone and resting comfortably against his tan skin, and a pair of dark brown slacks. You smile at him, unable to come up with anything witty or clever to say back and he’ll just laugh softly to himself and put the car into drive.

Jake drives in a comfortable silence for about fifteen minutes before you begin to wonder where your date will be taking you this evening, the quaint buildings of the downtown area slowly giving way to trees as you enter the small forest that borders the town. “What have you got in mind for tonight?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from the picture-perfect trees all in different stages of turning colors to look at Jake, who just smiles and says, “You’ll see in but a moment, love.”

A few miles later, Jake guides the car into a pull-off on the side of the small highway and you look around for any clues that might tell you what is in store for this evening. He gets out of the driver’s seat and does a little half-run over to open the door for you, a quirk of his that you don’t mind too much. As you breathe in the crisp, fresh mountain air, Jake opens the trunk of his car, russles around for a few moments and then creeps around the opposite side of where you’re standing with a mischievous grin on his face. “I bet I can beat you in a race to the top of that hill,” He says, gesturing to a small hill a few hundred feet from the side of the road. “Ready go!”

With that, he takes off, trying to hide the items in his hands as he leaves you in the dust. Too stunned to speak, all you manage is an incredulous laugh before taking off after Jake, determined not to let him win. He seems to know his way around these woods, however, and, where you get stuck on thorny berry bushes and have to duck under branches, he seems to disappear up to the crest of the hill.

Once you arrive, out of breath and all the curl fallen out of your hair, he looks up from the ground, having set up a plaid blanket to sit on. “Oh, what took you so long? I was about to call out the search and rescue team.” He says, voice full of false concern.

“Whatever,” You reply, panting and taking a seat on the blanket next to him. “You are a piece of work Jake Kiszka.” Just then it hits you what Jake set up for the date. Sitting on the other end of the blanket is a picnic basket, a guitar you presume to be Jake’s and a bouquet of seasonally colored flowers. A small gasp leaves your lips and you look back over at him, that shy smile you love so much taking over his face. “Jake, you really didn’t have to do all of this! It’s beautiful!”

“No more beautiful than you darling,” He says, pulling the basket closer and taking out two glasses and a bottle of wine. After stuffing yourselves with premade sandwiches and grocery store sides, you lay your head on Jake’s lap as the two of you watch the trees blow in the wind below you. “You are truly incredible,” You mutter, locking eyes with him for just a moment. He lets out a huff of a laugh and leans forward to grab his guitar. “You play?” You ask, realizing how dumb of a question it was almost immediately after the words left your mouth. “Just a little,” Jake responds, not missing a beat as he begins strumming chords absentmindedly.

Turns out, ‘just a little’ means that Jake is probably the best guitar player you have ever heard and his singing voice is just as incredible, though he doesn’t do it in a boastful way. He sings soft and low and begins to get a far off look in his eyes, almost like he forgets that you’re even there. It’s amazing to witness and you can’t help but watch as his lips twitch along with the guitar when he isn’t singing and his eyebrows come together just enough to create one wrinkle of concentration. This man is a work of art, you realize slowly, reaching one hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. This seems to ease him out of his trance and he looks down at you, still strumming the guitar.

“Have I ever told you how ethereal you are?” He asks, setting the guitar to the side and reaching down to hold your hand with one of his own. “You remind me of the trees when they turn, actually. Though we marvel at their beauty year round, something about the way the sun hits their leaves in the autumn makes them even more awe inspiring.” You look out and realize that the sun is setting as he makes the comment and you do see what he means. The yellow leaves are becoming golden and, when a slight breeze causes them to rain down, it looks like golden drops are falling from the skies.

Jake shifts down so that you are laying on his chest and his brown eyes meet yours for a second as you watch a thought cross his mind. He leans in a little closer and smiles at you. “How lucky am I to have met you?” He muttered, taking in every feature of your face and running the backside of his fingers along your jawline. The sensation causes a wave of warmth to run through your body and a stream of electricity to run from where his perfect fingers touch your skin right to your brain.

“I could say the same thing about you Jake,” You respond quietly, taking his hand in yours and examining it. It looks soft from far away, but up close you can see where the callouses from guitar strings create texture and his bitten cuticles remind you that he is, after all, human as well. “That’s a bad habit, you know,” you say, running your fingers over the bitten nail beds. He just chuckles and looks down at your fingers which have similar marks. “Oh really?”

For a little while longer this continues, exploring the quirks of each other’s hands and any bit of skin that isn’t covered on this chilly afternoon. Eventually, his hand goes back to your jawline and you can see another thought cross his deep brown eyes. “Y/N…” He begins and then trails off, a blush covering his cheeks.

“Yes Jake?” You ask, focused on committing the shape of his nose to memory because there has never been such a perfect nose as this one.

“Can… Can I kiss you?” He asks quietly, nothing but sincerity and hope in his eyes when yours flash to meet them.

“Yes Jake, absolutely,” You say, propping yourself up and leaning in close. Your lips press together gently but firmly in a brief, chaste kiss. Each of you pull back and realize that something like that simply wouldn’t cut it and you lean in again with an eagerness that only real love can bring and it’s as if fireworks are going off in your brain. That feeling of warmth from earlier comes back in floods and you are no longer chilly in the autumn air.

Eventually, you both have to pull back for a breath and you look up at him, blushing like a schoolgirl. His cheeks are just as red as he looks down at you and a laugh erupts from his throat, suddenly, startling you both. You let out a similar laugh and it’s infectious for a few moments, neither of you quite believing what just happened. Jake clears his throat after the laughter has died down and looks at you, the grin on his face still a mile wide. “I’d like to do that again some time.”

“I would too.”

[incompleteth0ts]

Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey in Rye

Summary: Chap. 1 Chap. 2 Chap. 3 Chap. 4

Jason makes it to Camp Jupiter

Notes:

How is Lupa a better mother than Juno and Beryl😐

TW: In the fic it is implied that Jason AN ALBINO BLACK BOY is called the N-word but it's never actually typed out, before I'm chased down with fire and acid I am black and Jason and Lupa’s rage may or may not be fueled by mine

_____

Jason spent The next year in Lupa’s care was a special type of hell. Jason cried for his family the day he woke up, the grievances for his past life were quickly beaten out of him that very afternoon. The feeding Lupa had given him late at night on his first day with the pack was a one-and-done dosage. Learning how to hunt for food was the first thing his new mother taught him, the second being how to kill. Jason cried the first time he witnessed a slaughter and he cried when he had to perform the next.

Lupa herself quickly corrected both mistakes.

“If you insist on crying every time we hunt prey, one of these nights I’ll make you prey.” Lupa liked to threaten to eat him a lot. Jason had a hard time believing her. What kind of mother would eat her son?

Lupa would.

Jason watched her eat seven children in 12 months.

Seven brothers and sisters were gone before they had a chance to pray for her forgiveness. The first time Jason saw it he feared that Lupa would eat him next. His once older sister, Holly, was nine. She had only been at the camp for a week. Holly could not stalk, hunt, or even gather, but she could howl.

It was a mighty howl that could be heard anywhere in the forest. It made her easy to find and Lupa did not like that. It ‘scared the prey away’, but Holly had never been invited to hunts so she wouldn’t have known.

Lupa had taken her to the woods for practice and ordered her to stay silent and watch how it was properly done. Lupa has used Jason as an example dozens of times in the four months he’s been hunting by Lupa’s side. The rabbit should have been nothing to Jason. A snack for the pups when they’d grow restless as their fangs got longer and their claws shined for bloodshed. The rabbit hadn’t even smelt Jason coming, the winds shifted to blow from the South to the North. No the rabbit hadn’t seen him, but it heard Holly.

A howl tore through the trees that startled the rabbit and Jason causing him to step on a twig. The rabbit went flying through the grass and went into the wind.

Jason had failed to catch the rabbit, but Holly had failed a direct order.

Holly’s howl was ended by a paw to the back. Lupa’s maw oozed saliva down the young girl's face, choking her when it got in her mouth. Holly had no chance to beg for forgiveness before Lupa’s jaw forever silenced her.

That was the first night Jason ever ate a sibling.

The first time of many.

The second sibling lost to ignorance was a much older boy from the South. He hadn’t lived long enough for Jason to learn his name, he hadn’t even lived long enough to finish his sentence.

Lupa had introduced him as a new packmate. She said he was skilled in hunting and had vast knowledge about botany. Jason had noticed the teenager glaring at him from where he stood at Lupa’s right paw. The boy expressed disgust at Jasons long and unkempt hair. The way his feet went black with dirt and his clothes had unfixable holes. Lupa’s final straw had been when the boy tried to call him out his name. The slur barely had the chance to roll off his lips before Lupa was striking him down, encouraging her children to eat.

Jason had eaten until he was full and when he got hungry again he hunted for others.

Jason was as feral as they came, the favor Lupa held for him was only exceeded by her first pups Romulus and Remus, and when it was time for him to go, she sent him off with high honors. He was supplied with a small backpack and new clothes. He was given enough money to book a bus all the halfway to his fathers camp and a golden coin.

He hunts deers and howls at passing cars, he runs with the breeze on his feet and Eagle below him. He travels alone, but makes friends across the land. Birds and squirrels follow him to the edge of forests and offer him nuts and berries as tribute to him and his mother, the protectors of the land for the woods is her altar.

He eventually comes face to face with civilization again where nobody in California questioned the strangeness of a toddler hiking across pains and streets, the mist covering him like a blanket. The monsters that attack him are nothing to Jason in the beginning of his journey. Lupa’s scent was heavy on him, the smaller beast steered clear, Lupa’s claim on him signing him as property teasing the idea that his mother is nothing more than one step away from him.

But as rain fell and days got long Lupa’s scent was lost to him. The first monster to strike had been a cyclops. A big ugly thing that was a baby in the world of mythology with an ego bigger than his eye. Jason had made quick work of him staying low to the ground hiding himself in the trash and boxes that stack the alleyway that the monster had tried to corner him in.

When the monster’s back was turned Jason struck. A quick swing with his IVLIVS, the monsters were so weak that even the basic weapons training Lupa gave him enough to defeat them. The cyclops was nothing more than a dust bunny in the wind by the time Jason had to run off to the bus station if he wanted to board.

The monsters eventually get tougher as time goes on, he’s been traveling for a week and still has three more days to go. Most nights he sleeps under gras and dry leaves. The wilderness is familiar to him like the front and back of his hand. The grass rocks remind him of Lupa’s string paws, or her deep voice that shook Jason's ribs and tickled his feet. He allows himself to cry out for his mother.

He may be a roman, but he is also a wolf and even the dogs must grieve.

When Jason crossed the Tiber and made it into Camp Jupiter he’s covered in mud and the remains of other creators. Most of his clothes have been torn off to staunch the endless tears in his skin.

The camp is suspicious of him when he first arrives. They think he is a lost and neglected child that managed to fall into the river and crawl out the other side.

Jason bites the first camper that makes a grab for him. The teenage boy curses as he shakes him off screaming to the Praetor in the crowd about rabies and ticks.

“I didn’t know Lupa was willing to take in kids this young. How old is he, Julie? Poor thing can't be much older than five. He kinda looks like my cousin Amethyst Kelly.”

Julie, the praetor of Jason’s youth, stood before Jason. She was one of the older adults that were still a part of the legion and hadn’t retired to live in New Rome like all her peers. She was a daughter of Mercury that earned the role of Praetor when she was 22 once her mother was ready to pass down the title. She was a latina with the complexion of a cacao nut, which Jason ignorantly pointed out when he first talked to her.

“It doesn’t matter how old he is, Tyler. If Lupa thinks he’s strong enough to survive pack life, then he’s strong enough to survive camp life.”

Tyler was Julie's right hand. Unlike Julie he didn’t grow up in New Rome. His family had migrated from Australia when they found out his father was Lord Vulcan. Despite living in the States for over fifteen years he still spoke in an annoying Aussie accent. He was younger than Julie, but not by much, at the time he was only 28, but died two years later to cancer.

“What’s your name lil fella.” Julie bent at the waist to better hold eye contact with Jason as she patiently waited for his answer. It took Jason a while to find the words, growing up with Lupa there was a very limited need for him to communicate through english or latin. There was nothing a stern look of bark couldn’t just as easily communicate between them.

“My name is Jason Grace.” The words sounded old on his tongue. He knew his name because it was the only thing of his past he could keep. Jason did not know why his name was Jason or why it was so important he knew it, but it was the only thing from his past that Lupa allowed him to keep for himself.

“My name is Jason Grace. And I am the son of Lord Jupitor.”

They threw Jason into the shower and scrapped the week and a half days of filth off him turning the once clear water black in minutes.

“Gods Julie, this kid is disgusting. We should open up a no shoes no shirt policy.”

“Stop complaining and keep scrubbing. I think there's a centipede somewhere on him.”

After they scrub Jason's body leaving it red and tender like the inside of a steak he’s dragged to a red bricked building that smelt like rubbing alcohol, burnt hair, and sadness.

“If we want to throw you into the ring, we’re gonna have to cut off all that hair young man, it’s unbecoming of a soldier.” An older white man comes to greet Jason with an electric razor and a bright blue barber's cape. The man had a shiny bald head and a graying beard that made up most of his face. He was a tall and broad man that looked like he wrestled with grizzly bears and ox’s in his free time away from cutting hair.

Jason had never had his hair cut before and quickly grew nervous.

Max, the barber, pulled out a long set of sheers and begane to cut off as much hair as he could. Jason struggled in his seat, his body rocked back and forth. Sparks begane to fly off his body and through the metal shears sparking Max and Julie who was standing by his side.

“I’m sorry Julie, but I don't think I can cut off much more than this. If this keeps up he’s gonna set the whole damn shop on fire.” Max unwrapped the rubber cape from around his shoulders and set him free.

“Do me a favor Miss Julie and the next time you try to get his haircut sedate the little spark plug.” Max had one of his employees sweep up the hair so he could move onto the next client.

With clean clothes on his back and shorter hair, Julie took him down to the sparring range. All the campers were clad in copper and gold plated armor, even the youngest of fighters were much older and bigger than Jason himself.

“All Right new blood, I’m gonna pass you onto Jackson for the time being. He’s the weapons instructor. You can trust him to take care of you for right now. I’m going to get you to set up a cohort.”

As Julie left one of the campers previously sparring broke away from the group and began to approach Jason.

The camper who Jason assumed to be Jackson was younger than he had expected him to be. He looked to be around seventeen and smelt of gunmetal and rusty nails. WHen he took his helmet off there was a diagonal scar that ran from his left ear to the right of his chin that gave him an almost villainous look.

“Hey kid, I’m Jackson, son of Mars.” Jackson kneeled so he was at face value with Jason and gave him a wide smile. The hairs on the back of Jason’s neck rose in agitation. He lowered his body to balance on all fours barking at the older man to step away from him.

The man's smile grew in size. “Don’t be like that kid, we’re all pack here so there’s no need for hostility.” Jackson raised a hand and held it out in Jason’s face.

Jason made a lunge for the hanging appendage, but once his hands left the ground, instead of biting onto the man's hand Jason found himself pinned to the ground.

“A little personal advice kid, if it’s that easy to get you worked up and angry then you’re not going to live very long with us.” Jason kicked his legs to get the an off him. His arms wrapped around his middle to protect his vulnerable belly. Whimpering Jason tilted his head back to expose his neck and submission towards the stronger male.

“Come on now, none of that either. If it’s that easy to get you to surrender then you’re definitely not going to live very long.” Jackson lifted Jason to his feet and patted them both off.

“So tell me did Lupa send you here with a weapon already or are we going to go looking for one, puppy?”

Jason decided that Jackson was quickly becoming his new favorite person.

Jason was going to crush Jackson.

“Come on Jason, don’t tell me that you’re already out of gas? I thought Lupa raised you better than this!”

Jackson aimed a low blow to the back of Jason's knee’s with his golden spear causing Jason to hit the earth beneath him knocking the wind out his chest.

“Do you yield, Jason Grace?”

Jason rolled on his back and grabbed the sharp end of Jackson’s spear using it as leverage to place one of his feet underneath his rib cage and vault him over his head. Jackson’s back hit the dirt underneath him sending dust flying around them.

Jason threw Jackson’s weapon out of grabbing range and wrestled to pin his senior down. More dirt began to pick up into the air which Jason used to his advantage, while the disturbance in the air tarnished Jackson’s vision and sense of smell Jason took it as a chance to tap into his newly developed skill.

Using the air currents that picked up with every flailing movement Jason was able to find Jackson’s shoulders and turn him on his stomach where he pinned him down with his legs. Before Jackson could buck the son of Jupiter off like a rodeo bull Jason pulled both his arms back until he heard a wet pop and a howl of pain.

Jason had dislocated Jacksons shoulder and the match was won.

“Damn Jason I know I told you to dislocate the shoulder but I didn’t think you would actually do it.” Jason got off his mentor's back and pulled him up by his good arm.

“Why? You told me to do it.” Jackson’s dislocated shoulder hung limply on his body. Jason watched as the camp medics that Jackson had ordered to stand at the ready took great care in fixing the damage and feeding him dime sized pieces of ambrosia.

“Yeah, but most campers just go through the motion during practice rather than actually dislocate it. I keep forgetting that you’re not like most campers, are you, puppy?” Jackson rotated his newly healed shoulder waving the healers off that tried to poke at it. Being a child of Mars made him stronger than most, healing was also something that came fast to him as well, by the time it was time for dinner any strain from the injury will be gone and forgotten.

“Come on Jackson, I’m not a little kid anymore, especially after getting my ass handed to me like that.” Jackson had been dragging Jason through the dirt until Jason managed to pin him down and dislocate his shoulder.

“Hey, language, language. Who even taught you that? I bet it was Tyler; I’m tattling on him to Julie.”

The roman duo jogged to the dark purple ice cooler by the colosseum stands pulling out bottles of water. After drinking his full Jason made careful work of pulling out leaves and twigs from his hair. The Romans usually kept the coliseum clean of any unnecessary obstacles but fall was in high rise as Lady Proserpina left the earth to be with her husband.

“Your hair has gotten longer. You know one of these days you’re gonna be expected to cut it,” Jackson pulled out what once was Jason's hair tie. Jason’s been at camp for nine years and not once since the first attempt has Jason gotten it trimmed. “Hopefully it happens soon.”

“Leave me alone Jackson, I thought you were a weapons expert not a barber.”

“I don’t see why I can’t be both, after all you haven't seen real skill until you’ve seen Max fight three grown men with a pair of safety scissors at a bar.”

“I have seen, you were one of the three men.”

“Whatever pup, pop quiz time; before you managed to pin me down, what opening did I give you that I shouldn’t have?”

Jason straightened his back to look his senior in the eye. “The opening had been when you asked me if I would yield.”

Jackson began to pace slow circles around Jason’s body, but he did not react. Jason has gone through plenty of Jackson’s pop quizzes and knew exactly what he needed to do to pass.

“And what about that was a mistake? Was it my kindness to spare you?”

“No that wasn’t your mistake, sir.”

Jackson stopped in his original spot, but was much closer to Jason’s face this time. “So tell me Jason where did I go wrong?”

“You were too close, sir. Your weapon and body were close enough to grab and manhandle, when I got you on the ground without a weapon I was able to turn what would have been my loss into a victory.”

“But you were already on the ground and lacked a weapon yourself. You looked rather pathetic really.”

“Pity not the sword, nor its wielder.”

Jackson smiled and patted Jason back meaning that just like always, he passed with flying colors.

“You are correct; while there’s nothing wrong with granting mercy you can’t always expect your opponent to want it themselves. When push comes to shove it is always best to survive.” Jackson gave Jason one last pat on the back and began leaving the colosseum.

“Come on, pup, you need a shower and something to eat, afterwards there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

Jackson and Jason waved to passing campers who were also on their way to the mess hall for lunch. Jason had come a long way from being the camp oddball. After receiving his first quest three months after arriving, making him the youngest and most successful demigod prodigy in camps recorded history.

“Don’t worry she’s a polite enough girl, but she isn’t very fond of men. Me and the praetors are hoping that by introducing the two of you she’ll be more inclined to meet other people.”

Jason's thoughts were full of the mysterious new girl he would be meeting later today. He wondered who her godly parents was. By the way Jackson talked about her he wondered if she’d become a member of Lady Diana’s hunt or at the very least swear herself to chastity.

After eating lunch sandwiched in between Jackson and Dakota on the marble bench of the dinning table Jason ran back to his cabin to change clothes.

“You smell like outside,Jason. Fix that.”

Jackson took Jason to Julie’s office. Inside of it Julie sat in a royal purple swivel chair, sitting across from her was a girl who looked to be around Jason’s age.

She had a golden tan and almond eyes. The scent of Lupa was faint but still evident, she must have gotten to camp quickly and recently since she also smelt of trees and morning dew. She was pretty in a predatory way, back straight and eyes untrusting and suspicious, her chestnut brown hair was braided and thrown over her shoulders. She looked like a princess.

“Jason right on time, I want you to say, hi, to Reyna, she’s going to be stationed in the twelfth legion, fifth cohort with you.”

Jason approached Reyna with limitless confidence, even though she glared at him like he was an enemy rather than her new ally he did not let her gaze waver from his withdrawal. The situation was similar to how Jason and Jackson met, but Jason has grown since that moment.

Jason stood at Reyna’s feet and searched her face. Her body was tense and Jason could practically smell the panic rolling off her in crashing waves. Jason made a breathy whine to show his cooperation. He hadn’t been summoned to hurt Reyna, not that he wanted to, but he was sent to help her, he figured showing her that he had no intention to challenge her was a good way to start.

Seeing Jason willing to express open submission calmed down Reyna’s stiff attitude. Her shoulders lowered from where they stuck to her ears and her knuckles let go of the wooden armrest of Julie's guest chair. Jason bent low at a slow enough space to allow Reyna time to push Jason away. When she didn’t give any more signs of unease Jason ran his tongue across Reyna’s lower jaw and gently bit the location.

“Jason, son of Jupiter.”

“Reyna, daughter of Bellona.”

Jason and Reyna quickly grew close. Jason spent the rest of the day showing Reyna all the important parts of camp and New Rome, and when he was done with that he showed her all his favorite spots.

“Jason. I’ve been meaning to ask you, is there something wrong with your nose,” Reyna and Jason sat in the empty colosseum together. “I mean, you talk kind of funny.”

Jason gave Reyna an unamused look. He knew that the way he talked wasn’t the most fluent, but that didn’t mean he liked it when people talked about it. “What’s so funny about the way I talk?”

“Well don't get angry. I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Jason was visibly surprised. When the new camper met him, they were unsettled. Jackson said it probably had to do with who his father was. Tyler said it was because he was more wolf than human and Julie just told him that they would come around eventually, after all they always do.

But Reyna wasn’t like the other campers.

Jason liked Reyna.

He liked her a lot.

As the sun set behind them the war horn used to announce bedtime blew through the air. Jason jumped off his seat and grabbed Reyna’s hand. “Come on Reyna, we have to get ready for bed. I’ll take you to Gracie since the girls get to shower someplace else.”

After the two children bathed and took showers Reyna got comfortable in the empty bunk beside Jason’s. The cabin centurions Gracie helped the younger kids brush their hair and navigate the cramped space of the cabin while Maybell helped Jason put on his bonnet.

“All right campers, it’s time to go to sleep, if I catch any of you staying up past bedtime I’m stealing your bed and making you sleep on the floor.”

“Careful Gracie, I think Grandfather Mercury is speaking through you.” The blanketed campers laughed at their senior antics.

“Shut up Maybell, or else I’m stealing your first. Lights out, everybody!” The cabin was engulfed in darkness and the shuffling of campers getting comfy for a full night of sleep.

Just as Jason got ready to accept the tender embrace of Somnus somebody crawled into his bed. Jason could smell the generic shampoo and conditioner that all the girls at camp used on his pillow masking the scent of mint toothpaste and gunpowder.

“Goodnight Jason.” Reyna slid underneath Jason’s blanket and grabbed onto one of his hands.

“Goodnight Reyna.”

___

Notes:

Yeah so Jason may or may not have been encouraged to eat his siblings when he was younger, big deal 🤔 🙄

And look at Jasons puppy crush🥺❤️

On that happy note please, please, please, tell me someone caught my Iggy reference 😭🙏🏽

WORD COUNT: 4,034 words

[myhauntedsalem]

Pocomoke Forest

Maryland

The Boyfriend

A boy and a girl were in a car and ran out of gas. They heard something. The boy got out to look for a phone and he told her not to turn around or get out of the car and to lock all the doors. He was gone for a long time and she kept hearing noises on the roof of the car. She never turned around at all. She just lay on the seat. She fell asleep and finally woke up. It was morning. She remembered what had happened so she sat up slowly and looked out the front windshield. Then she turned slowly toward the back window, and she saw her boyfriend’s head sitting on the trunk. She screamed and got out. The sounds she heard that night were the fingernails of her boyfriend scraping the top of the car where somebody had hung him feet first in a tree.

The Hook Man

A young man and a young lady were parking in the confines of the Pocomoke Forest. The radio was playing and all of a sudden a special bulletin came on. It seems that an inmate at the Cambridge State Hospital had escaped. He was last seen headed for the Pocomoke Forest from the Salisbury area. He could be recognized as being about six feet tall, weighing 165 lbs., and having jet-black hair, and a beard that was also black. His right hand had been cut off and in its place was a hook. His problem was that he killed people who disturbed the Pocomoke Forest. In about half an hour the young lady broke away from the young man’s embrace scared to death. She insisted that he take her right home because she had heard a noise. When the young man and the young lady got out of the car, they heard a clanging noise. They looked in the gutter beside the car and there lay a hook. To this day the crazy man with a hook for a hand has been seen many times, but he has never been caught. 

The School Bus

A busload of students went to see the Old Furnace as a history class trip. The bus driver decided that it was quicker to use some of the back roads in the Forest. The bus had some engine trouble while on one of the back roads. The driver got out to check and try to find the trouble. All of a sudden there was a noise as if people were walking up and down on the top of the bus. Many of the students got curious. Nobody was scared. But then several horribly ugly faces appeared at several of the windows. These faces appeared as if out of nowhere. The teacher told everyone to close their windows if they were open. She tried to calm everyone down. Then she went to ask the driver if he was ready to go, but he was nowhere to be found. There was a skeleton beside the front of the bus. The teacher very hurriedly closed the hood of the bus and got in and drove it back to the school. To this day the bus driver has never been found, although many people say that they have seen him.

Fire Ball

A guy from Westover was driving his car through the Pocomoke Forest to Snow Hill. He looked ahead and saw a very bright object. The closer he got, the brighter the object became until finally, it was directly in front of him about 30 or 35 yards. He couldn’t tell whether it was yellow or green. Since the object was blocking the road, he could get only 25 yards in front of it. Suddenly his car cut off and he abruptly stopped directly in front of the object. Too frightened to do anything, he watched it in the car. It looked like a big yellow box. After fifteen minutes passed, the object slowly drifted off into the woods. The man’s car automatically started and finished its trip driving down the road.

[lucianinsanity]

Had a dream/nightmare about a group of families going back to a city to try to forget a traumatic event that happened five years prior

There where five families, it's unclear if the older couples are grandparents or parents, but each has one or two "kids" each (they are all adults) (there's five couples, and each has at least one kid)

They all stayed at a mansion and apparently they all have "superpowers", mostly they don't use them and just go around the city visiting touristic sites and all that

Then the traumatic even starts to repeat, this time targeting the younger ones, creatures and villains try to kill them and the only safe place is the house, they have a meeting talking about that

One of the guys has like, a tree body somewhere else and when he goes to visit someone starts to cut it

And apparently during the time he wasn't checking on the tree it just became sort of a dungeon so he fights skeleton knights to get to the top where the cutting started and finds a rich kid trying to get a tree house, he then fails to convince the kid of not cutting the tree and the tree is cut

Nothing happens to the guy but he keeps visiting the new tree that was planted over his and feeling lonely

Then one of the "kids" doesn't believe in that and goes to have a touristic bus ride and the driver starts to say something about the incident five years ago and the girl/guy (it changes through the dream, he ends up being a guy) says it was their family that went through that

And then the bus comes to a bridge and suddenly there's screams and stuff behind them and someone says something about a guy that pukes corrosive acid or fire or something is going around and the guy starts to get nervous and looking through all the windows

The noises and screams start to get worse and the driver decides to not stop anywhere and just get this people somewhere else, and they pass through a place with big walls around the houses and statues all over and the guy asks something about living statues and the driver says there used to be one but it stays still now, just for a statue to look directly at her with glowing eyes and melting metal

Then she gets out and starts running away through different places and finds a crowd and starts trying to get lost there but the thing that is trying to get her already saw her and is not really against crushing and melting everything on its path, and when she looks back she sees that the thing is a gargoyle that is starting to fly to catch her

Then she starts using her powers, which is shapeshift

He gets in the walls becoming graffiti and trying to get from wall to wall, the problem is that his powers work leaving a body behind, basically body jumping from a form to another, and his graffiti is very distinct, so he becomes just letters and tries to get away from the gargoyle that keeps shooting at the walls

At some point he gets away and sees the gargoyle go away just to pass close by on a car (yes, the gargoyle can drive, even the dream pointed out it was weird), he then notices he is close to the house and gets in the garden, transforming in a toy snail and staying like that until he's sure he can go in without being seen

He enters the house and there's like a labyrinth of fucking stairs and he gets in them (he also took the snail toy with him and is holding it tight the whole time), he finds a woman at the top of the stairs and says "who are you?" Waving a hand at her face very slowly, she takes pity on him and guides him to the others that are also hiding (they knew each other, he was just paranoid) he also does the same with them and they start talking about how to survive, since their elders where the one to survive originally (they are also not there for some reason)

The guy shows his snail and says "this was the form I had to use to escape, this is the body I had to use"

They keeps talking while the guy keeps staring at his old body cradled in his hands

And then I woke up, also at some point I was just me going on a date with a classmate in a fair, nothing to do with the rest of the story, but it was nice

[wayward-persephone]

Werwolf! Russell being abandoned like i said before and smelling u one day when he gets off a random bus- he gets off and a smalll scent of something incredible hits his nose- he starts to follow it wondering if this could be his pack he somehow must have found a pack member because the only way he can describe the scent is home 🏡 so he keeps walking until he sees you on a bench reading all bundled up since it’s fall. He waits for u to notice him since u must be a werewolf too and can smell him but u dont look up - huh thats weird 🥲 maybeee he has to prove himself to this little wolf maybe she sees him as mate material!! And now he stays standing (behind a tree like a lil dog with his tail wagging) and suddenly u get up looking at ur watch u sigh and start to fast walk home- well thats all he needs as a sign! Ur obviously letting him chase u but its been a while for him so he doesnt run after u but instead just follows quietly to see if shes heading back to the rest of her pack. The home she goes into is small and sweet looking and smelling and suddenly he sees that she ran in to grab some keys and go into a car and drive off- oh what a clever little wolf to lead him to her home and give him time to scent and get comfortable- he goes through the window (another “thoughtful” gesture from her he thinks lol) and starts walking possessed to a room that is bathed in her scent and oh are those? Panties 😳 freshly used at the bottom of her bed - hes blushing and trembling now thinking how sweet she was to leave him a present to get started with- he doesnt realize when he pulled out his cock but now hes using her panties and breathing in her pillow while his knot starts to grow- hes so absorbed in this heavenly place that hes doesnt hear her car (she forgot her wallet in her bedroom) but she walks light and when she sees a random man in her room jerking off into her panties she thinks she should probably scream or run or call the police- but hearing this sweet looking man whimper and looking at the biggest cock she’s ever seen while smelling how warm and musky he smells - well she cant help it if her thighs clench and she gets wet- Russells head snaps up smelling the fresh wetness and seeing his soon to be mate coming back at the perfect time- wellll lets just say her plans are canceled and Russell is VERY happy to have someone to start a new pack with 🤭💕 - 👻

(Kinktober prompts are closed. Just finishing requests)

I love EVERYTHING about this 😩👌

Like...this is exactly what I had in mind for him.

It's absolute perfection, my friend 😌💙

Him still being adorably confused but so eager...

I just want to sit on his face 😩

[unchained-hound-dog]

can you do a super angsty long distance fic where urban and reader get into a fight about urban entertaining other women and the reader being busy with school and urban says something dumb and mean which results in her ignoring him and he has to make amends and show her him much he cares

Here you go!

Urban had been on tour for 3 months, the distance wasn't something that you ever really noticed at first, you'd facetime a lot, plus you were out of school for summer so you were able to go around the country with him. However you were now back in class and Urban was in countries where the time difference was making it nearly impossible for you both to communicate effectively. You'd be waking up at 7am for class and, across the other side of the world, Urban would be going to bed. By the time your classes were done for the day you'd texted each other twice and the likelyhood of a facetime before you went to bed was extremely unlikely.

'It's not that I don't wanna talk to you baby, our schedules are just clashing so much right now' had been Urban's response to you when you'd argued to him about the lack of time he had to message you.

'You seem to have so much time for all these girls on tour though, I've seen the pictures Urb' this was your first facetime call in over a week, it was 9pm for you and around 2pm for Urban, he had a quiet 30 minutes and so he'd called you.

'Y/N' he shook his head and rolled his eyes, moving around slightly before speaking again 'those girls are nothing'

'Mmm yeah okay well the one where she's bent over in front of you looks like something'

'Okay and did you see me in the picture? Uncomfortable as fuck' he shrugs his shoulders

'Why are you putting yourself in situations where girls can do that shit?'

He sucked his teeth before saying 'You know what, sometimes its nice to speak to girls who don't constantly have an attitude'

Your mouth fell open slightly, tears brimming in your eyes before you blinked them back and held your finger above the red end call button 'fuck you Urban, fuck you' you pressed the button, the screen closing.

You didn't have an attitude, you just needed your boyfriend so spend some time talking to you and not fawning over girls in a club. You knew Urban's past, he had never kept it a secret, before he'd met you, he'd sleep around when he was on the road but he'd fell in love with you and hadn't slept with anyone since meeting you. You knew this, you trusted him and you knew he'd never do something that would hurt you, but you were so exhausted from school and so emotional over him being away.

-

'She hasn't answered any of my calls for 2 days and the only reason I know she's even alive is cause she's reading my messages and not replying' Urban was sat on the tour bus with Jack and Neelam, the two of them listening to their friends troubles.

'Well first of all you're a scumbag for talking to the best thing in you life like that, and second of all, you're a scumbag' Neelam shook her head as she leant back in the chair

'Thanks' Urban shot her a sarcastic smile before turning to Jack

'Man if she isn't answering your calls you need to go see her, short this shit out'

Urban scoffed, the idea of him leaving this tour was stupid. He'd never not toured with Jack, never missed a single day.

'You either go home and fix this shit or you'll lose the her Urban'

-

You were exhausted, your day had been one thing after another, you'd dropped your coffee all over the floor of your car, you'd backed too far into a space and knocked your rear end on a tree, you'd forgotten your textbooks and lunch. Walking out of the building at the end of the day was bliss, you drove home and got up to your apartment, finally ready to chill out and sleep.

However something was off as soon as you stepped foot inside your apartment, it smelt different, cologne mixed with a hint of weed, you placed your bag down on the side before stepping around the corner and into the living room.

'Hi' Urban was sat on the couch, a bunch of roses in his hand as he waited for your response.

'Urban wha-'

'I didn't mean what I said, I'm so stupid for talking to you like that. Not once did I ask you how school was going and I'm so sorry for that. You don't have to accept my apology but I'm home for a week so if you wanted to we cou-' you cut him off

'A week?' you were confused, Urban never missed tour, ever

'Yeah, we fly back here in one week and tour more of the states so you can come on tour with us again'

'And when you go away again?' you crossed your arms

'I promise you I will be more available to talk to you, and no more clubbing'

'Urb' you let out a small laugh 'the clubbing didn't bother me, seeing you with those girls didn't bother me as much as I let on, it was the fact they were spending more time with you than I was'

'And that will change baby, I promise, come here' he stood up, placing the flowers on the coffee table and pulling you into his arms

'I love you so much' You pressed a long kiss to his lips before pulling away

'I love you to, so much'

[snellblogs]

Dartmoor Mountains

July 8 24

Blog by Lynne Pearl

THE DARTMOOR MOUNTAINS

Dartmoor isn’t mountains at all, it’s even more exciting really, it’s volcanoes, long ago extinct volcanos that are a circle of fire that no long smokes.  What’s more thrilling?  I went back to have a look.  We can only go in the summer, there is a bus that runs and takes you up on the moor.  It’s only a little bus, the roads are too narrow to take a full-sized bus or coach which is good because then not too many can get up there.  It keeps it quiet.

When I write I use/borrow landscapes that I know and love, then I put characters there!  Like this:

The scenery changed gradually as the days past.  Somehow Thiel did not get lost in the mountains.  They were only a small range but still enough to be alien terrain for Thiel who came from lush green hills and valleys.  When he doubted the road he would draw out the map he had so painstakingly made under Rurn’s guidance and consulted it as he would an oracle.  The map was more than a drawing to show the way, it was a beacon in the darkness of the unknown land that lay all about.  The road he had drawn on the map was like a ribbon of fire flies to be followed to the metropolis of Goneton.

I went for a walk I knew from a while back, one I have done before from the middle of the moor under the shadow of the cathedral of the moor.  You have to leave the central common and the trees, though there is one missing from when I was last there.  Take a right- hand road and then take the first left up a very steep lane that would challenge most cars or vehicles, up and up and up until it peters out at the farm at the top, to only a path then that begins to narrow to and there’s high hedges and stone walls.  Finally, you get to a five- bar gate and that has the fixture broken but I manage to wangle it open and step out onto the moor itself. 

The air’s different up there, really it is.  There’s something called ‘Moor Fright’ that people get if they are up there alone for too long, its that kind of vast up there.  Just wind and sky and nothing. 

So I search for the path that I used to know but try as I might walking in a straight line parallel to the valley below I cannot find the old path, I try two routes but come to a dead end.  The ferns are very thick and may well have grown over the path that used to run parallel to the valley until there is another lane down into the village. 

I use this kind of experience when I write fiction:

The mountains let themselves slowly down into the grassy land of Bury Plain.  This was a plain that rolled only ever so slightly, but just enough for the tall green grass to curve out of sight before the natural horizon.  The track that came out of the mountains quite soon became a proper road that ran straight and unerringly to where all travelers in the area wished to go, Goneton.  The remoteness and silence of the mountain forests behind him, Thiel carried on.  At his back the Shrog Mountains lay indolent and still.  Their grey rock and dark green mantle of pines had taken good care of Thiel, never once even frightening him with a sudden loud noise, which they did enjoy to do with most creatures on their way to the metropolis.  It was as if to prove the pointlessness of all the invention and cleverness of these folk in the face of a world more alive than they ever dared imagine even in their cleverest moments.

            For days Thiel had seen no one,…

And so the story goes on…

I give up and just look at the sky and the sun up there.  It was clear and I could see the tops of Tors for miles in three directions. They are all named

e.g. ‘WIND, HOLLOW, TOP, PIL, RIPPER, HAYTOR, HOLWELL, HOUND, GREAT HOUND, BELL, CHINKWELL, HONEYBAG, HAMELDOWN.’

Behind me was the height of the tor I was standing on, but I wasn’t going to set out on the moor alone with no map, it’s not wise.  The moor is to be respected.  It’s a serious place to walk. 

I found my way back, I just retraced my steps and found familiar bushes and dried up stream, and the stone wall.  There was the gate I had opened.  It was still there.  I was not lost.  There was sun everywhere and the bigness of the sky and the space of the moor, which always inspires poetry.  As in ‘ROAD TRIP RIVER VOICES.’ By Lynne Pearl, which is my pen name where I say in the preface:

This is a journey told in verse, a travelogue crossing continents. 

“Canada Liminal ” is a story of writing poetry on the run, a leaving and loving Canada narrative, that continues today. 

These books are available and the next two Thiel books are arriving soon. Go to:

[milady-pink]

Waitress AU

Warnings: Food/baking, domestic abuse, unplanned pregnancy, cheating

Summary: Working at a dead end job, waitress Christine soon finds herself with a new problem: an unplanned pregnancy. Life is all about trying to find the sweet spots and luckily this pie genius has a new (and pretty adorkably sexy) OBGYN, who isn’t too happy at home either.

TL;DR Quirky cute and sexy Erik as a doctor, lab coat and all.

Word Count: 1904 || Graphics: @firefly-graphics

"It Only Takes A Taste "

Recipe Book

AO3

It was a dreary day with warm air, but the sun was hidden from view by a cluster of dark clouds promising rain. It’s been a few days since Christine was told about the pie contest and truth be told, she’s been thinking about it nonstop. Every moment of her waking hours have been filled to the brim with thoughts of what recipe would guarantee first place. 

Different flavor combos and crust ideas was all she could think of, but nothing screamed winner to her. She felt it needed to be something really worthwhile, something no one has seen or tasted before. After all, this pie had to be worth $20,000, enough money to take her, and her unborn child, away from this town and the people in it. 

It was Tuesday so Christine was currently sitting at the bus stop a short walk away from the diner, waiting to be taken home to a quiet house so she could test some of her pie ideas in peace. One such pie was baking in her head, she dubbed it “Getting Out Of The Mud Pie”.

Soft meringue, satin smooth and pillow soft…

…On top: ribbons of homemade strawberry ice cream…

…No crust, chilled overnight for an innovative take on a classic mud pie…

…Copious scoops of mocha almond ice cream, if they even make that…

“Hello?”

…I can sprinkle some bittersweet chocolate morsels on top…

“Mrs. DeChagny?”

…And some slivered almonds too…

“Mrs. DeChagny?”

The flour cleared from her head causing Christine to look up at the voice that insisted on speaking to her. “Doctor Destler, hi! What’re you doin’ here?” She asked, startled from her private thoughts. Apparently Christine was so inraptured in her thoughts that she missed the various greetings of her new doctor.

He was wearing a dark button down shirt, rolled at the forearms, and black pants that complimented his top and dark head of hair. It was a little bizarre to see the man outside of his coat that signified his profession. Now he just looked like a regular man.

Pointing his thumb over his shoulder he answered, “My car is having some trouble starting this morning, so I took the bus.” A soft, lopsided smile came to his lips easily, “I forgot how much I love riding buses. And you?” He inquired politely.

“I’m a regular rider every Tuesday night—my husband goes drinking out with the boys.” She playfully rolled her eyes at the stereotype.

Noticing her mirth he responds, with his own added awkwardness, “That must be nice…for him. Uh, that you let him—”

“Oh I love Tuesdays!” She emphasized, suddenly feeling very awkward herself. She steered the conversation away from her mess of a marriage by asking, “What part of town did you move to?”

This began a light conversation about the doctor, who lives on Stanton Grove, and who said it was a nice part of town if you like trees; which, who doesn’t? Christine asked him if he wanted to sit down next to her as they waited for their buses, when the doctor questioned about the uniform she was wearing. She told him she’s a waitress at Joe’s Pie Diner off of Highway 27, even boasting a bit by stating they sell 27 different pies. He was really blown away when she told him she made them herself, asking her if she made the pie she brought in to her appointment. That lead to the slightly embarrassing backstory that she first came up with the recipe for Marshmallow Mermaid when she was 16 and in her mythical creatures phase.

“That was probably the best pie I’ve ever had in my entire life.” He told her, sincerely.

After going on about the evils of sugar, Christine was noticeably surprised when he said that. “You tried it? Don’t worry, I won’t tell your doctor.” She joked.

But all playfulness was absent as he described to her how exactly good her pie was. “Really, it was….biblically good, it was that amazing. That could win contests, ribbons and other stuff.”

Christine told herself that the blush currently warming her face was from pride, and nothing else. “Thank you, what a thing to say,” said with little gusto since she was so unused to people saying nice things about her pies.

Misjudging her lack of excitement, he apologized. “I’m sorry, that was supposed to be a compliment.”

“I know,” Christine said, honestly, “that’s why it made me uncomfortable, m’not used to ‘em.”

Sneaking a glance at his bench mate, Doctor Destler noticed her pink cheeks. “And now you’re blushing, I shouldn’t have said that.” A moment of slight embarrassed silence befell the two, until a memory came to the doctor.  “You know,” he began, “seeing you here in your uniform….Ah forgot it.”

Now interested in what he was thinking about, Christine interrogated, curious to know more. “What about my uniform? Is it not my color?” She added, cheekily.

“No, no.” He smiled, eyes glazed over from memories long ago. “You remind me of this girl I knew. Man, she’s probably middle aged with kids and a husband.” This happy sentiment made Christine smile. “God she’d be what? 41 or 42 now?” Christine dropped her smile.

“And I remind you of this 42-year-old woman?”

“Hm?” As if remembering she was there he looked over and noticed her not so thankful face. “Oh, my god, no, no no!” His face instantly dropping the second he remembered what she just said about what she was insinuating. “It’s just— she was a waitress, too!” That his reassurance gave Christine a better picture into how this man worked, and that he’s not very good at talking to people.

“She worked at this bakery, I used to go a lot cause I had a major sweet tooth in medical school. Pretty lady; small hands, nice teeth, smelled like carbs.” His lopsided smile returned as he remembered his younger years studying away for a medical degree. “I was in school, so broke, and she must have noticed me staring longingly into the window because she used to sneak me some goods like croissants and muffins. She was a real sweetheart.” He looked back to Christine, “That’s what reminded me of you.”

“Well, no one ever notices me like that,” she trailed off, taken aback by another compliment.

“Somebody did, right?” Christine stared back at the masked man, blank expression, not understanding what he meant. “You’ve got th-the, the baby so….” Before she could get a word in edgewise to be offended he continued his story. “Anywho, this other waitress used to bake the pies fresh, daily, like you! Well, not quite like you, no offense to her, but your pies are…whoo. I mean, if pies and other such desserts were books, your pies would be the Shakespeare's letters of books. Does that make sense? Probably not, sorry. What I’m trying to say is you remind me of this waitress who also baked pies, but you're way better.”

The amount of ups and downs from the, supposed, doctor’s rambling could have caused Christine to develop whiplash. She did, however, have the decency to take in what he said at the very end of his onslaught of nervous speaking; he likened her to another pie maker, but called her better. That, at the very least, warmed her up some.

“It’s like they say, ‘it only takes one taste to know when you want a whole slice’. Don’t ask me who says that, I don’t know.” He said honestly, shaking his head.

Christine broke the silence, saving the poor nut from himself. “That reminds me of something my mama used to say in the kitchen when she was teaching me to bake. She’d say, “You can tell the whole story of the pie with just one taste, Christine.’” She shared.

He popped up at her words, thankful at least one of them was a wordsmith. “That’s exactly it! I mean, when I had that first bite of your pie, it felt like I could taste every individual ingredient you used, like I could see it sitting in a pantry. Maybe it was the years of no sugar but, one bite and I wanted that whole pie to myself.” He joked, but held an underlying seriousness to his words.

All Christine could do was sit and smile to what he was saying, pleased someone else could find enjoyment in her baking than her usual customers. “Honestly, it felt like the entire room evaporated and it was just me and the pie, alone.” Suddenly, his tone got a lot more thoughtful and a little bashful, staring at the pavement in front of him as he spoke. “It even got me thinking, what your hands must have felt like, crumbling the butter, mixing the filling, rolling out the dough. Wonder what your hands felt like when they made something so…masterful.” He all but mumbled the last bit.

Because of his soft speaking of her baking process, Christine had to lean in a bit and in doing so got a very good look at what her doctor’s lips looked like; thin, but slightly plump in the middle, perfect for tugging between teeth— “One bite of pie, caused all those thoughts?” She asked, mesmerized.

Looking up from the sidewalk, he took in how close the two had become on the bench. Maybe it was her imagination, but Christine thought she saw his amber eyes look down to her lips before looking into her eyes and saying, “It only takes one.”

The pair was quick to separate and retreat back to a reasonable distance from each other when they heard the sound of squeaking from the bus’s brakes. Each sat a little dazed and tried to shake off the looming heat that must have come from the sun peaking through those pesky clouds. Realizing it was her number, Christine got up from her seat.

“Well,” she said, trying not to seem too thrown off, “this one’s mine. Nice talking with you, Doctor Destler.”

Just as she was about to step onto the bus and pay the fee, she heard the doctor call out, “Christine.” Turning around, she was again made aware how very tall her doctor was, barely hitting his collarbone. “You can call anytime, I’m here.” He said, placing a slender hand on her arm. “For all of your questions and concerns, that is.” Taking his hand away, and leaving her with one of his lopsided smiles.

She gave one of her own small smiles, and boarded the bus, going as far as to wave to him from her seat as the bus started to drive away. 

The air conditioning in the bus was cold, but more so was her arm where his larger one had been moments ago. Not to mention, the small smile she gifted the doctor still remained on her face, smiling to herself as she thought back to the encounter. How the strange, new doctor likened her pies to Shakeaspeare’s letters and cared enough to wonder what her hands felt like as she made them. 

Christine rode the bus home, to her little ranch house that hasn’t been redecorated since the eighties at least, that smile staying put through every bump and pothole.

Maybe being compared to a 42 year old woman wasn’t the compliment it should have been, but to Christine it meant the world.

[britishchick09]

rapsittie street kids livewatch

welcome to the last livewatch of 2022! ...and probably the worst since we’re watching the infamous ‘rapsittie street kids’! i’ve seen countless reviews on this special, but i’ve never seen the full thing. today is its 20th anniversary, so why not watch it now? it’ll be bad, it’ll be cringe and it’ll be a whole lot of fun! ;D

the instruments at the beginning are really good! :D

...too bad the visuals aren’t :/

why does the bus sound like a clock?

ooh it’s rap time! B)

ricky: “but if you’ll kindly find the time to deliver gifts 7, 8 and 9 from my list!” rip gifts 1-6 :/

i’ve heard the beginning of the rap so many times that the part after sounds so weird! :o

aw he only has 3 coins rip :/

that could buy a book at st. vincent de paul’s! ;)

a car just slides out of frame lol :D

has he walked like that this whole time? :o

the voices in the music sound a bit creepy...

omg he kicks a basketball and it just  f l o a t s  lol! ;D

aww his mom died :(

she gave him a bear before she died... AND NOW HE’S GIVING IT TO A GIRL WHO DOESN’T EVEN LIKE HIM NOOOO :(

the bear just  f l o a t s

blue haired kid: “another day, another ‘d’ at rapsittie elementary...” says the teenager! :o

nicole got a dino bonk! :o

HOLD UP WHY IS ONE OF THE KIDS NELSON FROM SIMPSONS :o

ricky is talented! :D

the adults in the back tho...

he just throws ornaments on the tree like he’s in the charlie brown christmas special! :o

ok wow he’s just gonna rap and rhyme this whole special isn’t he :/

blue teen: “duuuude! that was soooo coooolll...” and that was so not cooollll... ;)

i’m pausing this to upload my new video and i guess this came out on november 25th not december 14th! the anniversary passed, but we’re in the middle of rapsittie season so i’m still watching it!

it’s all christmas and then  S U A R S

smithy: *sees the bear on the floor* ‘what’s that?” ricky: “that’s for nicole honey, i know she’s into money!” that bear is priceless tho! :o

smithy thinks liking nicole is gross lol! ;D

the teacher is fed up with everyone!

knockoff nelson: “hey ricky! let me know any time you want to fall down again! i’ll be sure to shove you in the right direction!” BUURRNNN!!!!! :D

ricky is the only kid to be bummed about recess ever!

teacher: “i said after recess BECAUSE I NEED A RECESS!” ricky: “oooohhhkayyy....” lol! ;D

ricky: “you won’t catch me.... hesitating!” lol! :D

the teacher needs a vacation...

oof this song is cringy! :o

when you wanna be the charlie brown christmas special...

omg nicole and glasses girl are doubling down laughing at that! :o

nicole: “watch what i can do!” ricky: “i’ll watch you nicole!” nicole: “not you, ricky!”

he’s the only one watching her tho...

also why is he wearing a short sleeved shirt IN THE SNOW???

ricky: “and i thought it couldn’t get any colder out here...” oof :/

omg knockoff nelson stole smithy’s sandwich! :o

and it just slides down smithy’s scarf...

the shot zooms out to the teacher and kids with presents but it looks slow mo?

lenee: “oh that looks really cool!” nicole: “here.” *drops it right onto her feet* lol!

nicole’s gift is the best because she bought it from the mall! ;)

OMG WAIT IS THAT JOHN DELANCIE AS THE PRINCIPAL???? :o

turns out it’s not but it sounds so much like him! :o

nancy cartwright, jodi benson, mark hamill and page o’hara are in this so there’s plenty of talent here already! ;)

he walks away slowly... (just like me seeing this!)

kids: “merry christmas!” blue kid: “principal dude B)” lol!

the kids ignore the teacher lol ;)

nicole thinks she’s sooooo perfect because she gets things at the mall?

oh no it’s the bear! :o

SHE CALLED IT A NASTY OLD THING YOU BISH!!!! >:(

ricky called her stupid yas you get her! ;D

why are lenee’s arms twitching?

lenee: “we go to this really big store and it starts with a ‘w’!” omg wallymart...? ;)

it’s the floating candle!! :o

AND THE GRANDMA YAAAS!!! :D

aww ricky has a santa letter! :D

grandma: “rdfgdjfdfjgh sendin’ letters!” lol!

it just... floats away from his armpit?

AND IT HAS AN @ SYMBOL???

nicole is insulting lenee AND HAVING A SEIZURE OMG :o

nicole’s mom: “has my princess been a good girl?” nicole: “i’ve been a good girl all year long!” YOU BISH! >:(

NO NO NO NOT THE SONG!!!!!

nicole: “♫ look at me! ♫“ no thanks!

the snowflake is traveling to lenee’s house!

this is a nice colored sky! :)

aww i feel so bad for lenee :(

her mom doesn’t nod... she bows!

mom: “come on, it’s christmas! cheer up!” that didn’t sound very cheery of you...

oh no nicole is reading the letter! :o

she feels bad... :/

YAS GRANDMA GIBBERISH!!!! :D

grandma: “dgdfgjjgsogisigsdfhsfdf christmaaaaas!” lol! ;D

OMG NICOLE THREW THE BEAR AWAY???? :o

nicole, smithy and lenee are in an abandoned building!!!! :o

smithy: “i can so blackmail you guys!” wtf lol?

they looked everywhere but alas! :/

omg dogs are chasing them!!! :o

bully: “look at the babies scared of little doggies!” i’d like to see you get at them! ;)

smithy threw his sandwich at the bullies... and they had their own chase! :D

yay they found the bear! :D

lenee: “let’s climb on that tree and jump over the wall.” nicole: “a lady does not climb trees!” smithy: “now is not the time to be a girl!” lol!

this animation is so awkward tho??

they made it! :D

aww nicole is giving ricky his bear! :)

nicole: “but doesn’t that mean a lot to you?” ricky: “yes. and so does................. friendship.” that pause tho! ;D

ooh lenee’s fam!

MARK HAMIL IS HER DAD OMG :o

lenee sees santa! :D

cloud santaaaa!!!! :D

omg lenee song! :o

WHY IS NICOLE’S MOM OBSESSED WITH THE MALL TOO

dad: “nicole has my good looks... and your spending habits!” lol! ;D

omg nicole’s grandma wanted a videobox... which is what ricky asked for! :o

ew nicole’s parents winked and it was weird :(

aww nicole gave her gift to ricky! :)

and lenee’s sister got... that...

ricky, grandma, nicole and smithy are visiting! :D

nicole apologized! :)

grandma: “dhdhhdfgfjfghg christmaaaaas!” iconic!!! :D

dad: “SHUT THAT DOOR!” the perfect way to end a christmas special! ;D

that was rapsittie street kids! it was just as bad as all the reviews say, but i still had fun watching it! visually, it’s the worst christmas special, but it still has good moments unlike other baddies (looking at you ‘the christmas tree’!) the plot was nice and so was the acting... mostly! i’m glad i got to finally see this special after hearing about it for so long! happy 20th anniversary, rapsittie street kids! :D

[majorgarrett93]

The Unforgettable Night

Jeff Adams, an everyday guy who worked a 9-5 shift in an office would experience a very unordinary night. He was off work; It was a Friday night and planned to meet up with friends at a bar over twenty miles from his home in a town by the name of Winlock.

He knew the last bus route since he didn’t drive due to economic reasons, it was the perfect night until he was waiting, the bus hadn’t arrived. Another bus of another route arrived, the driver informed him about the accident they got in and he’ll have to wait until 6am the next day. He forgot his phone as well and would be stuck out on the streets of Winlock all night. He had a little money but couldn’t afford even a cheap motel, so he took some pills his friend gave him to stay up all night as he struggled with insomnia. He stops at a gas station, asks to use their bathroom which the owner tells him that it's for customers only, so he buys a couple cheap beers. He got the key and went to use the bathroom, crushed up a pill then snorted it and downed the beers. Cashier called the cops instantly because he was suspicious after he took over five minutes. Cops follow him five miles to the other side of town just to confront him about finding a rolled up recite as well as white residue and empty beer cans. They’re ready to take him in until a man is seen across the street in the park completely nude, under the influence of flakka and having sex with a tree while moaning intensely. Cops restrain him and eventually ambulance show up, Jeff could hear him screaming and threatening cops and paramedics, shouting “I am God, and I will destroy the Winlock police department!” Jeff sits down on a bench to take a rest and is approached by a woman who appeared to be a hooker, in tears crying about how a man has been trying to kill her for days. He goes to the ATM to get the rest of the money out of his account to help her, he passed a strange man in the park and suddenly hears three gunshots. He runs into a bar and tells the bartender what happened, and he just replies, “serves that cheap whore right.” Used the bathroom, thought he was alone until a guy came out of the stall and caught him, “clean that white gold off your shirt, cops here got sticks the size of 2x4s up their asses.” Realized that he had extra money in his pocket that he forgot about, orders a few whiskeys, ready to order coffee and pay his tab until he becomes interested in staying longer due to two reasons; Noticed his old friend David from high school which he was David’s only friend, often picked on due to his mental illness. Jeff also noticed an entertaining fight going on between two girls; One typical goth girl and one about two hundred pounds overweight wearing pajama pants and a shirt that said, “spoiled rotten bitch”, like something on the People of Walmart calendar.  “Hey David, remember me, Jeff?” he shouts, David joins him for a beer, “Make that coffee two Millers, one for my old pal David.” Trailer trash girl makes fun of David saying, “freak off his meds again?” Jeff stands up for David, “shut up whitetrash bitch, must’ve walked a mile too far cause that’s where the crackhouse is.” Fight is about to break out and both David and goth girl try to break it up, goth girl takes the punch and tells Jeff, “Should've just hit her, you call that stuffed pig a lady?” Fight began to break out, they both got into it. Bartender steps in and makes them leave so they had to take it to the streets. Who won the fight? Well, one girl was found unconscious in the street like she got pushed off the sidewalk, trucker who first mistook her for a dead cow. Bar was closed that night, one guy tells Jeff, “Saw you snort that powder, but I won’t tell, stay at my place tonight." Invites him into his car when he tells him situation being stuck on the streets and tells him how he can stay at his house. He then says, "Yeah, stay at my house tonight. No charge and free dope on the house if you can show daddy a good time in bed." Jeff jumps out of the car into moving traffic almost getting hit. He notices it’s almost 4am and has only two hours until he's suddenly knocked unconscious and mugged. Later wakes up in the hospital. He is later being discharged after being medically cleared and sees a man in the room across from him handcuffed to the bed and surrounded by cops. Keeps begging for painkillers and shouting “my dick’s on fire!” Jeff got home safe finally but would never forget that one night.

[sophiamamamia]

Yevhenia Serdiuk tells the story of how the residents of her village, Pidlypne in the Sumy Region, didn’t let a Russian convoy pass through the village.

It all started on February 24. My son and I packed for school, but then everyone started calling: war. I say: “What war? I need to catch a bus at 7:15.” Not even 15 minutes later, the head teacher calls: “The classes are canceled, the war has started.”

And already that night, Russians were driving through our village. They were passing through non-stop for about four days, day and night. Maybe with some one- or two-hour breaks. We’d never seen the things that were passing by us, not even in pictures. We were scared, hiding, but looking out the windows—the trees were still bare back then. We had our own chain to pass on what drove past, how many, where exactly.

And then, on the fifth day, they knocked down a power post in the village center. It fell and dragged two more posts with it. Bare wires were on the ground, and they were afraid of being electrocuted. So they drove through the church, knocked out the gate. But only armored vehicles could get through, and trucks with ammunition got stuck.

Calls went out to everyone in the village, and literally within 15 minutes, about 500 people came. People drove there from all corners, by vans, by cars, because a rumor started that we were blocking the column.

So I stand by the window watching men rushing past my yard on bikes, on mopeds, on whatever they could get. I ran there, too, in whatever I was wearing—old hat, old jacket, I put on my son’s boots. I stand at the edge of the crowd, and the guys shout at me: “Zhenia, film it on your phone, let people see that we’re not afraid, enough with the fear!”

The video is literally just a minute long, but they argued for a long time, almost half an hour: “Show us the road to Kyiv.” But I have a brother in Kyiv, his wife, my nephew, so I scream: “What Kyiv!? I’m not letting you get to my brother!”

They started yelling: “But we’re Russians, we’re normal.” There were many of them, and not like they show us on TV, dirty ones in galoshes, but properly dressed, like the military: helmets, bulletproof vests, military boots, automatic guns. And not 19-year-olds, there were older ones—as we understood, these ones had experience.

They pointed guns at people—but people weren’t afraid anymore. Adrenalin probably did its job. Only in the evening it dawned on me that anything could have happened, they could have actually shot us all.

Well, we made them turn around. And we chased them back, right up to the lake. And dogs walked with the people then. Walked and barked. They didn’t run around, didn’t run to the tanks, they walked with the people, next to their legs, and barked.

But by the time we reached it, something was already coming down the street, like an armored vehicle. And this funny Buryat crawls out of it: “Let me pass! I need to pass!” So our guys tell him “in French,” climb out now, we’re going to let you pass. Apparently he was sent for reconnaissance to check if there were people. So we figured out right away that we had to put up fortifications. We blocked all passages. We found concrete slabs, tires, the willows by the lake were picked up by a hundred men and brought there. We had such spirit, such strength—go figure where we got it from.

And then another convoy showed up from the direction of the church. I wasn’t filming anymore, I was jumping on a tank—I didn’t care. The first one driving was an armored vehicle, the second one was probably the same, or maybe a tank. They were followed by four fuel trucks and the last two tanks. People blocked everything, so we didn’t let them pass either, they turned around and drove back.

That’s how we won back our village. They drove into the fields and stayed there on the outskirts for two or three weeks, shooting at each other. There were so many of them, up to a thousand vehicles. When we posted the video online, people told us that we should have disarmed them and taken them prisoner. But these commenters don’t get that they’d have shot from the field and there would be casualties.