i want the white one cries

Ever since we broke up, I tried to get you out of my mind. I wanted to forget about you.

But the little things got to me. Remember the white daises you gave me when I cried? One tiny daisy was growing at my backyard. Did you see the bright full moon yesterday? I remembered when you showed me the constellations before the meteor shower.

It hurt when the memories unconsciously flooded my mind. My heart ached for once more chance to do it all over again. I want to go back in time and see you again.

I want to go back with us together again.

—  m.d. // unread letters #1
a cog in the machine pt. 1

pairing: reader x jimin, yoongi

genre: robot!jimin, assassin!au, mafia!au, angst, smut

word count: 6,954

warnings: depictions of violence, descriptive smut, mention of minor character death

A/N: thank you to @kenwayer27 for helping me develop the plot of this series. thank you to @gukvory for putting up with my constant teasers and torment.

Originally posted by the-rap-man

a cog in the machine:  a small or insignificant member of a larger organization or system

“Run!” you heard Hyunsik shout behind you as your feet gained momentum on the pavement. Yoongi was already several yards ahead of you, leading the way to safety. The three of you had been ambushed. Your targets now made you the target.

You could feel your heartbeat in your chest as you tried to run as fast as you could, but you were stuck in place. There was no place for you to go. There was no place for you to hide as the sounds of their bullets started to ring through your ears.

“I told you to run!” he shouted again, angry that your feet hadn’t made any progress.

“I can’t move!” you shout as you turn around to face him.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs when you see the sight in front of you. Hyunsik is on his knees. Flowers grow from chest where the metal bullets made impact. He silently begs you to turn around, not wanting you to see the gardenia’s blooming. You let out a silent scream, no one able to hear your cries as you watch the petals of the white flowers spread open as they drain the light from his eyes.

Your eyes snapped open to a room full of darkness. You were dreaming. It was just a dream. You grabbed at your chest only to find that you weren’t dressed. Sitting up, you realized that you had fallen asleep in his bed. The clock on his bedside table read 4:30 in the morning. You had to be up in 30 minutes.

He doesn’t stir as you slip out of his bed, cursing yourself for breaking one of the most important rules between the two of you: never stay the night. Sleeping with your partner was already a very bad idea and neither of you wanted to deal with what could happen if either of you developed feelings. Emotional weakness could get either one of you killed.

And as your dream reminded you, you had already lost enough.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you know any fics where Yuri unintentionally breaks Victor’s heart. I'm a sucker for angst with a happy ending. Thank you ^^

DO YOU GUYS LIKE TO SEE ME IN PAIN?!??! I’m just kidding! Thank you for these requests! Here are some fics where Victor cries… *goes into a corner and cries for 10 years*

Originally posted by takemetovikturi


Victor Cries


selfish by MissSpock, Gen, 1.9k
“…Aren’t you going to stop me?” He hated how his voice wobbled and cracked, and he had to fight to keep the tears in his eyes.
Yuuri’s brows creased. The mist had cleared from the lenses of his glasses and he looked at Victor with confused, amber eyes. “Why should I? It seems as though you’ve come to a decision.” Role reversal of ep 11. *sobs*

twenty-eight by pageleaf, Gen, 864 words
“…I’m sorry, Yuuri.” Yuuri blinks. “For what?” “I disappointed you.” Viktor’s voice is hoarse. “I didn’t win.” I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH

I’m Always Here by queeravocado, Teen, 1.6k
It’s 3 AM. Yuuri’s reliving one of his most horrifying events in his life: the GPF before he met Victor. Victor’s a complete ass, and becomes his number one fear. Turns out it’s a dream, but Victor’s crying his eyes out after what he saw. Victor cries. It’s sad. Happy ending, though!

Talk by future_fishy, Gen, 1.2k
Viktor wasn’t himself today. Yuuri is the best at comforting Victor. Love!

kiss & cry by lostincostco, Explicit, 2.7k
“Oh,” Yuuri says wonderingly. “You’re crying.” Yuuri makes Victor cry, but not in the way you’re thinking…!!!! (this isn’t even sad, it’s just smut.. doN’T JUDGE ME IT’S GOOD OKAY?!)

Stupid Thoughts by future_fishy, Gen, 1.5k
“I’m fine, Yuuri, go back to sleep.” Still that smile. “You’re not, and I won’t.” Yuuri’s serious tone made Viktor flinch, “Please don’t lie to me.” Victor is self conscious about his future with Yuuri????? I’m sobbing?????

Where we belong by ss_blackrabbit, Teen, 1.5k
It’s true that Yuuri wanted to be hated as the man who took Viktor away from the world, but he never meant to take Viktor’s world away from him. Another ep 11 fic! Happy ending.

Comfort by future_fishy, Gen, 697 words
Viktor is upset, and Yuuri isn’t sure how to comfort him, but he tries. I’m totally not crying… *sobs*

A Melancholy Of White by mochary, Teen, 15k
“Yuuko. What’s happening?” Viktor asks sternly. “Did something happen?” “O-oh my God. Viktor-“ Yuuko cries from the other line. “It’s Y-Yuuri. He got into an accident. Viktor, t-there’s blood. P-please come immediately.” It’s then, when Viktor’s heart shatters into a million pieces. ONLY READ THIS IF YOU WANT TO BE KILLED. SERIOUSLY. MY HEART BROKE INTO FIFTY BILLION PIECES WHEN I READ THIS AND I STILL HAVEN’T RECOVERED. Really well written, though, and a happy ending!

Worthwhile by surveycorpsjean, Explicit, 6.2k
In which, it’s Victor that breaks.
So beautifully written. One of, if not my favourite, YOI anxiety/mental illness fic. Highly recommend. So f-ing sad, though.

Holding on for Dear Life by icterine, Teen, 2.4k
It turns out that sometimes heartbreak happens in seconds, unexpectedly – and once it does, there’s no dulling of the senses. Victor’s heart shatters.

something that i really, really hope happens in regards to finn and rey’s relationship in the upcoming films is a huge emphasis on how much FINN means to rey.

because a lot of ugly racists and re/ylos like to say that their relationship is so obviously ~one sided, that finn clearly likes rey but she doesn’t feel as strongly for him (when that’s far from the truth).

so what i REALLY want to see is rey being affectionate towards finn. i want to see her run to him and embrace him, i want to see her laugh at his jokes and look at him like he’s the only thing in the galaxy. i want HER to be the one to say “i love you,” or something along those lines, first- because not only would that be GREAT character development for rey, who has gone so long without having anyone and has finally allowed herself to grow attached to and feel for someone else- but also because it would prove that rey loves finn. it would prove that yes, rey, the white woman protagonist of this trilogy, loves finn, the black man protagonist of this trilogy.

so lucasfilm, please give me a rey who misses finn so much it hurts while she’s away with luke, a rey who cries over him and for him, a rey who is so obviously smitten with this good, brave, incredible man so that nobody can deny that finn is loved by her.

for once, let a black man be the hero; let him “get the girl,” let him be the shining light for those around him- let finn be loved, fiercely and undeniably, so that nobody can deny how important and amazing he is.

So…, I’ve been binge watching Dear White People for 5 episodes straight and yo…., episode 5 went there. I literally cried. I was shaking. Yo…., For all my fellow black people & everyone who is woke; support this show on Netflix. I don’t want to spoil what I’ve seen so far, but tw: episode 5 includes guns/gun violence

99: “Calm down. I look a lot worse than I am.” (second prompt from the anon who asked for andreil! This is going to be exactly what you think it is :)))))

When Aaron’s ringtone bleats at Andrew from his jeans, he feels hyper-focus snap through him like the crack of latex gloves going on: skin-tight, hands about to get dirty.

He holds a finger up to Bee where she’s thumbing through her appointment notes, and flips his phone open, pressing it in snug to his ear.

“Andrew?” He hears, Aaron’s voice sounding stretched thin, his usual annoyance worn away in the middle.

“Aaron,” he replies, and Bee smiles in absent understanding, turning back to her work.

“Listen to everything I’m going to say before you hang up, okay?”

Andrew goes still. “Talk fast.”

“It’s Neil,” Aaron says, like his mouth is full of stinging bees. Andrew’s skull trades places with his ankles, or, something too small to be real has his head in a vice, and his legs are sloshy useless.  

“Where?”

“I told you to listen,” Aaron hisses.

“Where?” Andrew repeats evenly. He’s already calculating the time, the steps to the court, fox tower, Abby’s place, Wymack’s apartment. Aaron shares Andrew’s resentment, though, and the other end of the line goes glacial.

“Aaron. Tell me where he is.”

Bee looks up, all her features tipping down like a kaleidoscope shifting — smile inverting, mouth shifting sideways.

“He’s not dead. And you can’t tell me you didn’t expect him to get beat up at some point, Andrew, he’s a hazard.”

He knows. He knows, Neil is the only caution sign that Andrew regrets ignoring, he’s a bad fall waiting to happen.

“I don’t care what you think he is or is not,” Andrew says, and Bee makes the mistake of looking sympathetic in his direction. Andrew slams one hand down on the desk, enjoying the controlled jump of the objects on it.

“Right. You just care about you,” Aaron says. Andrew gets up from his chair and leaves the room, ignoring Bee’s resigned sigh behind him. “And him, I guess. Josten,” he clarifies, like Andrew doesn’t know, like he could stop knowing.

Aaron pauses, then exhales. “Nicky should’ve been the one to call you, but he’s. He’s staunching the blood flow. I told him what to do.” It sounds important to him that Andrew knows this. Andrew barely registers it, he’s busy throwing every door open between him and his car with his phone still pressed to his ear.

“It’s… your boyfriend got hit by a car,” Aaron gets out, finally. Andrew takes a knife out, just for the feel of it in his palm. “It was a dark—I dunno. SUV? Tinted glass. We think it was a— no Kevin, I know— we think it was a Wesninski, not a Moriyama.”

“Don’t say that name.” He says it on a dry throat, and the words catch. There’s a sticky silence.

“Fox Tower parking lot. Should we call the cops?”

“No,” Andrew says, and he climbs into his car, turning the engine over, wanting it as angry as he is. “Don’t call anyone, don’t talk to anyone, not until I get there.”

“He’ll bleed out.”

The fact that Aaron called Andrew before 911 at all is a miracle.

“Keep him awake.” He hangs up, and the parking lot he’s in might as well be a peak on a mountain for how remote it feels. He speeds. A lot. He crumples the space between him and Neil into a ball and throws it in the fucking garbage.

When he rounds the familiar turn into the parking lot, a small crowd has amassed near where Matt’s car is parked diagonally and a dozen athletes are wringing their hands.

Andrew swerves close enough to them that they have to physically leap out of the way, and he’s out of the car without turning the engine off or closing the door behind him.

He shoves some kid to the ground, and then it’s Allison and Dan linked at the arms, and they move out of the way without being told.

Andrew’s eyes find Neil’s and he wants to go back to last year and physically cut him out of his life, he wants to raise a fist or a knife at Neil and have him take it seriously, he never wants Neil hurt again.

He’s propped up on the curb with his left arm in pieces and blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. He smiles when he sees Andrew and his teeth are red.

Andrew drops to his knees and fists one hand in Neil’s sweaty bangs.

“What the fuck did you do?” He shakes him. “What did you do?”

Neil jostles hard, and the pain of it shows on his face. His mouth is a slash of white paint. “Calm down. I look a lot worse than I am.”  

Andrew takes his broken arm by the wrist and lifts it. Neil cries out, and his good hand twitches towards Andrew’s shirt but stops. Still not taking without permission, even in the throes of mindless agony.

Andrew can see that there’s something seriously wrong, Neil’s shirt is ripped and his side is already mottled with bruising. Neil’s breaths take two tries before they go anywhere. Internal bleeding, probably. Any number of trashed organs. A shitty brave face and a future narrowing to a crack in a closing window.

“Look,“ Neil says, and he raises his broken arm until it’s at Andrew’s face level. “I’ve got some grip.” He makes a loose fist and a tear rolls down his cheek.

“Your bone is outside your arm,” Andrew says. He puts both hands on Neil’s neck, and notices for the first time Nicky kneeling a metre away, a jacket on over his naked torso. The missing shirt is wadded on Neil’s side soaked in blood. Matt’s hovering at Neil’s head, watching them both. Beyond him, Renee’s standing guard, her expression carefully controlled and her eyes trained on Andrew.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know,” Neil slurs. His right hand is back at Andrew’s shirt, hovering, blind. “One of Lola’s maybe. One of dad’s. Loose ends, victimless crime. I don’t exist, anyway.”

It’s barely coherent. Andrew’s grip tightens and tightens. “You’re Neil Josten.”

“Number ten, stick size three, starting striker,” he recites. “Andrew—“ his eyes are open but they’re looking too far to the right.

He takes Neil’s hand and pulls it up so it meets Andrew’s chest. It instantly twines in the dark fabric and Neil’s mouth twitches then slackens. His grip on consciousness is starting to look like that sad fist he’d tried for: more painful when it’s there than when it’s not.

“Thank you,” Neil whispers.

“Stop it.”

“I mean it.” In an act of supreme defiance, Neil stays awake, and focuses more, blue eyes clear and forward-facing. “Last time I wanted to say more.” His hand splays across Andrew’s heart. “I wanted to kiss you again before I died.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I’m not doing such a great job of surviving.”

“When have you ever,” Andrew says, and then he hooks his fingers in the long ends of Neil’s hair. “Try harder.”

Sirens kick in somewhere nearby, and Andrew’s eyes instinctively find Aaron.

“Don’t look at me,” he says, and points at Matt.

“We got home and he was bleeding on the ground, what was I supposed to do,” Matt says, and he reaches to stabilize Neil’s neck when it cranes towards him.

Andrew bats his hand away easily. “Don’t touch him.”

Matt’s expression sours. “He’s not just yours, you know. We’re a team.

Andrew doesn’t respond. He feels like he’s the one with a punctured lung.

Neil tugs his attention back where it should be with a gentle pull on his collar. The ambulance pulls up a minute later, but he’s only peripherally aware of it. “You don’t need to come. I know you don’t like hospitals.”

“I have to,” Andrew says.

He’s jostled sideways by a paramedic, and it wrenches him out of his head.

Don’t—“

“Andrew,” Kevin warns, and if it were anyone else he would’ve ignored them.

He stands and watches Neil’s uncharacteristically weak-looking body fold onto a stretcher. It’s sickening, the juxtaposition of blood and woozy smiles. The chaos of Neil’s broken body is starting to look familiar, something violent and troubling like the foxes are violent and troubling.

“He’s coming with me,” Neil orders, his grip bruising Andrew’s wrist.

Other people are speaking but Neil’s water and Andrew’s face down in it. He leaves his car; he leaves the foxes and the bloody t-shirt and his panic. When he’s forced into the waiting room not by doctors or security but by Neil’s quiet voice, he thinks he might be learning to breathe underwater.

trauma measures thick layers of dirt on the floors she’ll never scrub
she says it takes more energy to try than to sleep and we’ve already painted on permanent dark circles
we are so used to looking dead,
why go back now

trauma pours a cup of the strongest coffee and melts into the walls at the sound of footfalls

trauma wants to know why we have to remember and I ask her why she thinks we have the ability to forget

trauma cries in the shower and pretends the spicket is a waterfall and she is finally clean

trauma screams at loud movies and flinches when touched

trauma stops episodes mid watch ‘cause one flame can turn white hot wildfire and triggers can kill

trauma decorates her prison and celebrates isolation

trauma renames fear “safety” and says if she has to be a loaded gun she’ll do it right and make her mother proud

trauma cannot forget
trauma cannot forget
trauma cannot forget

All of You (I Want All of You) | (Part 2) | (Part 3)

Daryl x Reader Smut Warning! 18+ Only! NSFW

A/N: This was a request, hope I get it right. :) My first post-negan era smut piece. Daryl is in the Sanctuary still and is approached by Negan’s daughter (Reader), she takes a liking to him and smut ensues. I didn’t get to the ‘Negan doesn’t approve’ part of the request, may have to make a second part if people like it.

—–

Y/N hated it here. All the men constantly eye fucking her and making lude jokes when he wasn’t around and all the women disgusted by her because she was his daughter. Not like you had any choice in the matter, if you had had a choice you would rather be out on your own taking your chances with the dead. You claw a little at your bedroom window, high above the sanctuary, staring jealously at the staggering walkers you see clawing their way toward the Sanctuary’s gate. One of your father’s men put it down immediately. You sigh in dissatisfaction and close the white lace curtain over the frame again and plop down on your bed.

I am so fucking bored. You say to yourself and begin to play absentmindedly with your hands. Suddenly your door slams open and your father makes his presence known.

“Y/N, I thought I told you I wanted to have dinner with you tonight? Get your ass over to the dining room.” Negan gruffly cried out, the vein in his neck popping from your disobedience. You roll your eyes and sit back up.

“Sorry, dad. I lost track of time.” You huff and walk out the door in front of him and head down the hallway to the small dining room his men had set up for us. You sit down at the four post wooden table and notice that the meal is already laid out for both of you, complete with placemats, utensils lined up on the right side, wine glasses, and a bowl of some sort of soup, still steaming with heat.

“What the fuck is this a five-star restaurant?” You scoff and slump down into the chair, disrespectfully.

You father sits down on the opposite side of the table, smiling to himself at the scene. His demeanor changes slightly at your words, “You’d do well to remember how good you have it Y/N.” He growled with a hint of anger.

“Oh yeah. How fucking good I have it.” You roll your eyes and begin to slurp your soup, you can taste corn, tomatoes, and green beans, as the hot liquid slides down your throat.

One of Negan’s men saunters into the room with a bottle of wine, ready to pour into both of your glasses. You allow him to fill your glass, after he pops the cork, you nod in appreciation. Alcohol was one of the only things that got your through with these assholes some days.

The man walks over to fill Negan’s glass and he looks up at the servant, covering his glass with his hand.

“Timothy, fucking tell me this is the merlot and not that fake grape shit again.” He glares at the man.

The man steps back a little, with fear in his eyes, looking again at the bottle, “Yes, sir.”

Negan removes his hand and nods, in a gesture to the man to continue. With now shaky hands the man pours Negan a glass, setting the bottle on the table.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” The man picks a point on the wall behind you both to fixate on as he speaks, with his arms militantly behind his back.

“No.” Negan replies shortly. The man nods once and turns to walk out of the room.

“Jesus, Dad.” You say, chuckling a little to yourself at what a dick he could be sometimes.

“What?” Negan replies, looking at her with laughter in his eye.

You laugh a little to yourself as you lift the bowl in front of you and gulp down the remaining liquid, wiping your hand across your face after you were done. You lift the glass of wine to your lips and sip on the liquid, watching as your father hungrily finishes his own dinner, and takes a sip of his own red elixir.

“So…” Negan begins, swirling the red liquid around in his glass.

Here we go. You thought and tensed up a little, taking a big swig of your drink this time.

“Have you thought anymore about what we discussed the other day?” He asked.

You grimaced a little and sighed heavily. As if it wasn’t bad enough being stuck in this post-apocalyptic world with a bunch of these losers, your dad now continued to insist you pick one for your own. You were a grown ass woman and here he is treating you like a teenager, asking you continuously if you had a boyfriend yet. You took another big gulp, nearly finishing your glass off, and stared your father down.

“What makes you think I would ever want to date one of your servants? None of them have any balls, they are all just a bunch of whining bastards that hide behind you. I want a real man and there doesn’t seem to be any around here.” You finish off your glass and slump back in your chair with your arms folded.

Negan sighed, “I know they aren’t much to pick from Y/N, but I want to know that you are protected when I’m gone or if something happens to me.” He says his voice softening, which didn’t happen much these days.

You relax your arms a little at his concern, “I know you are worried, dad. But I’m going to be okay all on my own.” Even before the world went to shit your dad was always worried about you, you didn’t date much, mostly because you were picky af and no one ever really measured up to your standards.

“Besides some whiny bitch boy isn’t going to be able to protect me anyway.” You scoff making Negan laugh out loud and lighten up again, that was the strong-willed daughter he knew and loved.

He took another swig of his wine and giggled a little.

“I’m just sayin… Fuck Y/N, we own this place and these people, you could have anyone you wanted, take your fucking pick.” He finishes the conversation there and gulps down the rest of his glass.

“When I find a man worthy of me, I’ll let you know. But don’t hold your breath.” You say toughly with a side smirk, something you definitely had gotten from the man sitting in front of you.

He chuckled again, nodding his head, while looking down.

You sigh a little, debating whether or not to have another glass of wine. Wine wasn’t your favorite, but you loved to feel the rush of the alcohol as it moved through you.

“Wish I could get a really fucking drink!” You say loudly, cocking your head to the side, looking at the doorway where the servant had entered before, nothing.

Negan sighed and nodded, he took a pair of keys out of his pocket and throw them across the table, they landed next to you with a thud.

“Go ahead. Take those down to the kitchen, I know we scavenged some good shit last week, take what you want Y/N.” He got up, not bothering to pick up any dishes, knowing that would be taken care of for him. He walked over to you and gave you a tussle on the top of your head.

“I’m fucking exhausted. I’m going to bed. Have a good night Y/N.” You smiled a little up at him and nodded. He walked over to the doorway before stopping at the frame and glancing back.

“Oh. And thanks for having dinner with your old man.” He smirks a little and heads out the door.

You grab the keys into your hands and get up out of your seat. Timothy waited until you were both out of the room to come back in and clean everything up.

You slide your hand along the concrete walls absentmindedly as your fingers traced them, room after room. You made your way down the stairs from the tower where you and your father’s rooms were, to the main floor where all the servants beds were huddled together like this was fucking sleepaway camp, you scoff a little at their cowardice. Heaven forbid they had to actually stand on their own two feet. You thought angrily, but pushed it out of your mind. You tried to never spend too much time thinking about them.

Your fingertips grazed down the long metal railing as your feet hit a long descending stairway into the basement. Your feet tapped along the hard cement floor as you walked off the stairs and turned right down the next hallway. You could see the four cell doors that were in front of you, on the left-hand side. You traced these metal doors, wondering who was in them. Poor bastards. You thought, wincing a little. You loved your father but you had never agreed with his tactics, not that you had a choice in the matter.

You lightly touch each door, silently hoping they were empty, but knowing in your gut that probably wasn’t true. After you pass the cell doors you take right and walk down another long hallway, until you reach the giant double doors of the dining room, which lead into the huge kitchen. You notice the padlock on the doors is unlocked and the chain is hanging to the side. Someone must be in here. You thought to yourself, confused as it was late and most people were already asleep.

You pull the doors open with dominance and walk into the room with authority, scanning for whoever was in the room. Your eyes scan the dining room tables, nothing, then in the corner of the room, behind the tables, you spot Dwight and another man dressed in a crappy white sweatshirt and matching sweats. Dwight is standing over this man, with folded arms and demeaning eyes. The man has his head low and a bunch of his hair in his face, as he mops up and cleans the floor of the mess hall.

Dwight’s head snaps over in your direction when he hears the you walk in, he smiles cockily. The other man does not look up and just continues about his task, walking over to push the mop back into the yellow bucket beside him.

“Hey there, Y/N.” Dwight says, licking his lips and looking you up and down.

Pig. You thought to yourself, folding your arms over your plain white t-shirt, that clung to your body.

“Dwight.” You say stoically, before walking over to the kitchen. You disappear behind the kitchen doors and start looking for the boxes your father had said were down here. You smile as you see what you came for, a bottle of half way decent vodka, your favorite. You grab a glass out of the cupboard and pour yourself a shot, downing it quickly and pouring another. You watch out the windows of the kitchen doors as Dwight stands over the man with dominance, spitting something hateful at him. You took another shot, grabbed the bottle and went back out into the dining room and sat on a table a couple of feet away from the man.

“Jesus, Dwight, can’t the man do his job without you whining at him like a little piss ant?” You laugh a little at yourself, and sip on your drink again. The best part about being Negan’s daughter is you could say whatever the fuck you wanted to whoever you wanted, and you really hated Dwight. Always acting like he was some kind of a God, when everyone knew he’s be the first to bend over to save his own ass.

Dwight says nothing for a moment and then walks over to you, putting his hands on the table you are sitting on, so that both hands are on either side of your cross-legged body. You just glared back at him, which made him chuckle a little.

“So, word is that your daddy is looking for someone to own you darlin.” He says coyly. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to flirt or just being creepy af, you decided probably both.

You kick your feet out and knock one of his hands off the table.

“That’s none of yours.” You say flatly.

“Well, what if I wanted to be this ‘someone,’ he teased, leaning closer still.

You scoff at this, “In your wet dreams Dwight.” You spat back at him.

“Why not?” He asked curiously. You knew he would never lay a hand on you without permission, so you were free to say whatever the fuck you wanted.

You took another swig from your glass and laughed a little.

“Really? ‘Why Not’? Well for starters I’m looking for a real man, someone who won’t bend over the minute my fucking father snaps his fingers. You are just like all the rest of them, except the size of your ego. But really, man?” You flick the vest he is wearing, flicking him on the side of his chest.

“Fuck, you can’t even live your life without stealing whatever someone else has. You think it is sexy to watch you walk around wishing you were someone else? I know who you stole this from, you’re pathetic.” You scoff at him. You had heard all the stories about a man named Daryl, the people from Alexandria, and Dwight’s run-ins with this mysterious figure. You had never met him, but he sounded like he was kickass and didn’t deserve Dwight’s wrath or humiliation tactics, hell no one did.

“I would never want a man like you.” You glare at him again, “Now, will you get the fuck out of here so I can enjoy my night?” You command him and he stands back up and begins to walk back over to the man with the mop.

“Come on, time to go back to your cage.” Dwight says and roughly grabs the man, who says nothing and allows himself to be whipped around.

“I said you get the fuck out of here. I’m a big girl, I can return him to his cell when he’s finished with his fucking job. He ain’t bothering me like you are and last I checked Negan doesn’t like when work goes unfinished.” Dwight sighed a little and looked away, as if you’d just kicked him in the balls. He says nothing more to the man or you and turns to walk out of the room.

“Shut the doors on your way out.” You command again.

Dwight walks to the doors and mumbles something, sounded like, “Bitch,” before slamming the doors shut behind him.

“Fucking Asshole.” You say out loud to yourself, pouring yourself another glass of liquid before setting the bottle back down beside you.

As your adrenaline subsides you remember suddenly that you are not alone in the room. You glance sideways to see the mystery man back to his task of mopping, his head still firmly fixed at the floor.

“Sorry about his shit.” You say lightly, the man does not respond, continuing to push the mop around in long strides. You notice how muscular he is, even under that god awful sweat suit. Your eyes take him in, he looked like he had been beaten several times over and was dirtier than you had ever seen someone, dirt clinging and crusting to his face and his hair, that fell over his silent eyes. Poor guy. You thought to yourself sadly.

You suddenly kicked your feet out from under you and scooted off the table, your feet slamming the concrete floor harshly. You walk over into the kitchen for a moment, not noticing the man’s eyes curiously on you for the first time. You re-emerge from the double doors with another glass in your hand. You walk over to the table that has your drink, grabbing your glass and the bottle before walking over to the table closest to the man. You pull two chairs out and slam both glasses down in front of each respective chair, that sit across from one another. You point to one of the chairs.

“Sit.” You commanded, but in a softer tone than you had used with Dwight.

His head slowly looked up, confusion in his eyes. He says nothing, but obeys.

You stand over him and begin to pour each of you a glass.

“I think you’ve earned a break.” You say with a sideways smile, before taking a seat in front of him, your back to the doors.

The man looks at the glass filled with liquid and does not touch it.

“Oh jesus, fuck.” You say, grabbing his glass and taking a swig, “I’m not here to poison you.” You laugh a little, harshly, and return his glass to him.

The man slowly takes the glass, using both of his big, rough hands to pull it to his lips for a small gulp. He winces a little as the alcohol hit a cut on his lower lip. You notice this and also notice all the cuts and bruising around his knuckles.

“Jesus, fuck. What the hell are they doing to you down here?” You ask angrily, more to yourself, as the man doesn’t seem to say anything. You shake your head in anger.

“I swear to fuckin god…” You say to yourself and walk back towards the kitchen. You fill up a small bucket of soapy water and grab a couple of towels. The mystery man takes another couple of swigs of his drink, happy to be drinking something other than dirt water.

You walk back over to the man, slide your chair out of the way and slide the table away, leaving your drinks on the wooden surface. You kneel down in front of the man, who sits in the chair more tense than ever.  You push one of the towels into the clean soapy water, and pull it out, wringing it in your hands a few times. You kneel up with the towel in your hand, he stares at you, trying not to show any emotion.

“My name is Y/N. I’m just going to clean you up a little okay?” You say with compassion in your eyes.

The man nodded a little and looked down, sadly.

You softly raise your hand up to brush the hair away from his eyes and notice his left eye is red and bruised from a beating, you guessed. You winced a little as your traced your fingers over it.

“Savages.” You mutter to yourself, making the man look sideways at you.

You begin to caress the warm wet towel over his forehead and over the inflicted eye, he growled a little at the pain.

“Sorry.” You say and continue down his face to run the fabric across his cheek, down his jaw, up to his other cheek, up to his other eye, down his nose, and finish by wiping all the dirt and blood off of his lips. He again growls when you hit the cut on his lip. You bend down and shove the towel back into the water, and wring it out again, you kneel back up and gently rub all the dirt and grime off of his neck, starting with the sides, moving to the back of his neck, and coming to the front, as you slowly use your other hand to push his head up so that you can clean the front of him. You slowly drudge the fabric up and down him and he moans out a little in pleasure. It felt so good to him to finally be rid of the dirt and grime he had had building up for weeks since they brought him here.

“There.” You say satisfied, with a little smile on your face, again removing the hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear. “And look, you can see those beautiful eyes now!” You smile proudly and bite your lip a little at your slip, the man didn’t seem to notice.

His eyes are softer now when he looks at you, but he still remains silent. You scoff a little.

“You are a quiet one, aren’t you?” You say out loud, still kneeling down by his side.

“At least tell me your name.” You said, starting to get a little irritated, you had little patience.

“Daryl.” He offered shortly and your eyes snapped up in surprise.

“Daryl? The Daryl?” You say, suddenly feeling like you were meeting your favorite superhero.

He scoffs a little as he allows his face to relax into a small smile and nods.

“Holy shit. You’re the stuff of legends around here.” You say laughing to yourself as you get back up and kick the bucket away. You pull the table over so that it is a few feet away from the man’s chair and hop back up onto the table, grabbing his glass and handing it to him, you grab yours as well.

You hold your glass out to him, in a gesture, he reaches out and clinks your glass.

“Man, I can’t believe I am meeting you! I was sure my father was going to kill you.” You say sadly looking at the ground. “But, if you’re still alive… He must have something big planned for you.” You say smiling a little, earning an angry growl from the man.

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.” He says lowly and slams the liquid down his throat, reaching the empty glass out to you, gesturing he wanted more. You oblige, turning to grab the bottle behind you.

You turn back looking up at him through low eyes for a moment before filling the glass.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just mean it probably means he will keep you alive.” You say apologetically, filling the glass.

He looks at you, his eyes opening to you more with every second. “If you call this living.” He scoffs and gulps down the liquid again.

“I’d give anything to be out there.” You gesture to the world beyond those walls. “I’d rather take my chances alone in the woods than be stuck here with these assholes.” You scoff, earning you another look of confusion from the man.

“Out there ain’t a place for a girl like you.” The man called Daryl says, in a serious tone.

“A girl like me?” You ask playfully.

He glares up at you, “You’ve probably been behind these walls so long you wouldn’t know how to protect yourself, too used to everyone taking care of you.” He says a little angrily, taking you aback a little, he was not wrong.

“So, who takes care of you?” You ask curiously and his head snaps up at you again.

“No one takes care of me. I’m my own man.” He says glaring into your eyes.

Yes, you are. You thought to yourself as you allowed your gaze to run over this man you had heard so much about.

You lick your lips a little, feeling something you had not felt in a long time, longing. You remember the moments where your fingers caressed his face and his lips, you lean forward a little lost in your own thoughts.

Daryl stares at you seriously, awaiting your response.

“I could take care of you.” You say slowly and boldly.

“What?” He asks, he seriously had no fucking clue what was happening.

You slowly stand up from the table and walk over to him, sitting down on his lap, straddling him with both hands. You look playfully into his eyes, brushing his hair away to see more clearly into them. He sits there in shock, watching you intently. He wasn’t sure what kind of game this was.

You notice as  stiffens under you, as you sit on him and smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, Daryl. In fact, I want to do my part to help you feel better.” You say before softly kissing his battered left eye. Daryl flinches his face away in reaction, before looking back again at you, his head as far back as it can go, looking at you angrily.

“Girl, what are you doin?!” He commands, staring intently into your eyes.

You smile and softly run your hands up and down the sides of his face, he was so beautiful, even covered in bruises and scratches.  You trace the hurt areas of his face slowly.

“I told you. I just want to make you feel better.” You say before pulling his face back to yours. You kiss him softly again on the eye, his forehead, down his cheek, before reaching his mouth. You look up at him and see that he is watching you intently, still confused, but his eyes softening, as did his tense reaction, you feel his body lean a little closer into you as you watch him. You smile into his eyes and then look back at his lips, you slowly kiss his lower lip, kissing the cut on it ever so lightly. You feel the man growl into your lips. You lick along his lips, grazing your tongue across his upper lip, trying to get him to allow you access.

You hear another, deeper growl and his lips begin to part. You slowly slide your tongue into his mouth and suck on his tongue, you feel him put his hands on you, resting on your sides. You moan a little at his touch, you forgot how good that felt. You being to swirl your tongue around his, slowly at first, and then picking up the pace, he pulls you slowly into him, willfully starting to kiss you back, swirling his tongue gently around yours. He moans into your mouth and you feel yourself getting wet just by the sound of him. You gently swirl your tongues around and around, it becomes more passionate with each second. You break away from his mouth and begin to kiss down his newly washed neck, first in the front, as he lifts his head in pleasure, and then making your way around to the side of his neck, devouring his skin with your mouth. You lick and suck up his neck and just under his ear, you nibble the sensitive area and feel him writhe underneath you.

You detach your mouth again and lean back in his lap to look at him. His eyes were glowing with lust as he looked you up and down, still a little confused by just what was happening. He looks over at the double doors that you had both came through and then back at you.

“Don’t worry. Everyone’s asleep.” You reassure him, taking one of his hands from your side and using your own hand to guide it up to your awaiting breast. You lean your head back and cry out a little as you use his hand to pleasure you.

“That feels so good.” You cry out to yourself and his hand begins to do the work on his own, gently massaging you over your bra. He begins to get braver and tries to shove his hand underneath your bra, under your shirt.

“Mmmm” He moans to himself as he feels your rock hard nipple under his hand, he massages and pinches it a few times, watching in pleasure as you moan to yourself.

You pull his hand away from you, dropping it back to his side.

“No, no, honey. This is all about you right now.” You moan, feeling yourself getting wetter by the moment, all you wanted was him all over you, but you wanted to make him feel better.

You get off of his lap and pull him up off of his chair, so that you are both standing facing each other, you look at his broad chest and shoulders and begin to caress your arms up and down them, first his shoulders, and then down his chest, until your hands reach the waistline of his sweatpants. You look down in between you and can see he is already so hard, you cup his cock from outside his pants and he cries out a little.

“Fuck.” He moans in reaction. You smile and reach your hands back up to his waistline. Ever so slowly you begin to pull down his pants, you kneeling down to the floor as the fabric does the same. You pull the pants down past his hips allowing his hard cock to spring free, you moan a little at the sight of how big he is and continue to pull his pants down, until they are resting on the floor at his ankles.

You kneel down in front of his cock and look up at him. He is staring at you with raw desire.

“I’m going to make you feel so good.” You moan and graze your hand down your own breast for a moment before focusing on the task at hand.

You lick your lips and slowly lick your way up and down his long shaft.

“Oh yeah.” He cries out to himself softly.

You continue to lick up and down, and come up to his head and swirl your tongue lightly around it, earning you another moan. You pull away just for a second, long enough for him to snap his head down at the loss of contact. You giggle a little before shoving him into your mouth, long and hard.

“Fuck yeah!” He cries out and you begin to bob your head up and down onto his hot cock, over and over. Tasting him already, you swirl your tongue around his tip again a few more times, before continuing to shove his cock down your throat.

Suddenly, you feel him pull your head back by the hair, you moan in pleasure. You look up at him and he is licking his lips, fucking you with his eyes. He pulls you up by your shoulders, until you are standing again facing him. He doesn’t say a word, but continues to fuck you with his eyes. 

He grabs your arms and shoots them up into the air, you comply with a smile, he rips your t-shirt off and his hands go to your back, where he caresses you softly a few times before unclasping your bra. You took your hands down and slowly dipped out of each strap, before letting it fall to the floor. He stands back a little to take you in, he smiles and begins to kiss your neck.

“So sexy.” He says softly into you as he ravages your neck with his mouth. He licks the side of your neck up and down before crashing his lips onto you, behind your ear, he sucks and licks harshly now, with more need, as his hands come up to caress both of your bare breasts, his hard cock pushing against your denim jeans, glistening a little. You reach over and pull at his shirt, trying to tug it up, while he has his hands on you, you moan frustrated. He chuckles noticing your futile efforts. He removes his hands from you for a moment before pulling the shirt off of himself in one quick motion. You bite your lip and smile in appreciation as you notice his large frame in all its glory. Those fucking arms. You thought to yourself, even more turned on than before.  

He strides back into you, pushing your ass into the table behind you. He crashes his lips back onto yours and sucks and swirls on them with urgency.

“Let’s get these off.” He says, breaking the kiss, to look down at your pants. His hands easily unbutton them, you feel the zipper descend, and feel his rough hands yank and pull your pants down, as he leans down with the fabric to set you free. You help him and step out of your jeans leaving you only in your panties. He stands back up and stares at your pussy through the fabric, you have already soaked through them.

“Damn.” He mutters staring at your pussy in admiration. He slowly reaches his hand out to touch you, he slightly slides his fingers up and down your folds through the fabric, making you cry out and arch your hips.

“Yeah, baby!” You cry, as he makes his way up to encircle your clit with his fingers. His fingers are already wet from your juices and he growls a little, as he slowly moves the fabric aside and teases your folds again. You arch into him over and over, with your head back and eyes closed, trying to feel every moment purely.

He slowly slides one of his fingers into you and you arch hard into it.

“Fuck yeah!” You scream and he shoves another one in, slowly pumping into you with his hand. You cry out again, this time snapping your head back to face him, you want to feel him, you pull his shoulders closer and start to devour his mouth again, harshly kissing into him, as he pumps into you.

You look at him with passion, breaking the kiss.

“I want you. I want all of you.” You say breathlessly, staring at him with pleading eyes.

He smirks a little and nods in agreement. He removes his hand and shoves your panties down to the ground, you kick them off alongside your pants. He pushes you back into the table and suddenly lifts you up by your ass and slams you onto the table.

He grabs your ass with both hands, on either side of you. You love feeling his rough touch on your skin. You cry out his name into his neck, wrapping him around you again.

“Daryl. I’m ready for you, please! I want you inside me!” You command.

He takes his rough hands off your ass and grabs your legs, wrapping them around his waist. He kisses you passionately once more before looking down to align his cock with your awaiting pussy. He slowly pushes himself into you and you moan in pleasure, he was so fucking big inside your tight pussy.

“Oh My God! Yes!” You scream in pleasure, as he pumps into you again a few more times, painstakingly slow.

“Oh Daryl. Yes. Harder!” You scream and he begins to pump into you faster and harder. You arch into him with your hips, finding his rhythm, until you are both slamming against each other. He thrusts into you long and hard and with each thrust he hits your clit.

“Fuck yeah!” He cries out and grabs your ass harder, trying to pull you as close into him as possible. You slam against each other over and over, long and hard, and you can hear the table legs slide and groan underneath you two, as it tries uphold you.

“Harder baby, yeah!” You moan as he begins to fuck you as hard as you have ever been fucked, he thrusts into you longer and faster, slamming into your clit over and over, faster and faster.

Suddenly you can feel yourself nearly there.

“Right there baby, faster! I’m going to cum!” You cry out and he thrusts into you faster and shorter, hitting the same spot you had told him felt so good. Faster and faster he slams into you, until you cry out in pleasure.

“Fuck! I’m cumming! Fuck yes!!” You scream as you slam your hips back into his over and over, cumming all over his cock.

You feel him slamming into you hard and fast as you continue to cum around him. A few more long thrusts inside of you and you feel him explode inside you.

“Fuck yes!!” He cries out, throwing his head back as he cums inside you. He thrusts into you a few more times, earning him a moan of pleasure from your mouth, before pulling himself out of you and leaning against your neck, exhausted.

You are both covered in sweat and breathing heavily as you hold each other up. He wraps his arms around you, while trying to regain his breath. You do the same, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, listening to your heart pounding in your ears.

“Damn.” He mutters into you and you smile.

Once your breathing returns to normal you pull yourself up and look into his satisfied eyes. You kiss his forehead lightly and look into him again.

“Thank you.” You say, not realizing how long it had been since you had been pleasured, and even then nothing compared to this.

He scoffs a little and leans up to kiss your neck.

“Thank me?” He says jokingly.

“Shit girl, thank you!” He says smiling a full smile, the first one you had seen, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He stands back up and looks at his sweat suit on the floor with disgust, he knew he had to put it back on, but it was the last fucking thing he wanted to wear.

You look at him and anger returns to your being. You hated how this amazing man was being treated.

You stand up and reluctantly begin getting dressed yourself as Daryl disappointingly returned to his attire.

When you were fully dressed you walk over to him and put your hand on his chest, looking up into his eyes.

“I will get you your shit back.” You say matter-of-factly and continue, “And I will find a way to get you out of that fucking cell.”

“You can bet on it.” You finish before taking his lips longingly back into yours for as long as you could before you knew you’d have to lock him away again. It was going to be dawn soon, but you would savor him for as long as you could for now…

REQUEST: you catch him masturbating while thinking of you and he gets super embarrassed. smut ensues.

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse/scars, explicit unprotected sex, y’all (wrap it before u tap it)

Word Count: 1,610 (i got so carried away)


You were house-sitting for Tina and Queenie while they went off with Newt to find some magical beast or another. Well, okay, you were house-sitting and Credence-sitting, since he hadn’t felt up to traveling anywhere. You’d known the group for a good few months now, since you owned a book store just across the street from their building, so it really was no trouble.

But when you said it was no trouble, it was because you had a very fond friendship with Credence and because you wouldn’t mind spending a good few days with him in the comfortable reverie you’d established. What you hadn’t accounted for was exactly what happened. It was late one night, maybe three days into house-sitting, when you heard it. You hadn’t been able to sleep, so you sat in the common area to read, and heard— It was a low sound, and throaty. Coming from Credence’s room. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on in there, so you got up and stepped toward his room cautiously, worried that he could be having a nightmare again.

But then your name rushed out of him, a quiet whisper so low you weren’t sure if you’d heard correctly, so you did what any person would do upon hearing their name called: you opened the door. And really, you would have been prepared for anything, literally anything, aside from what you opened the door to see. Which was Credence. Credence, with a hand shoved down his pants and his head thrown back against his white pillow, revealing a long column of smooth white neck framed by raven-black hair. Credence, dripping sweat that caused his hair to frame his high cheekbones and his lips.

Mortified, you closed the door and tried to tip-toe your way back to your seat to read. You couldn’t shake what you’d seen from your head though. You hadn’t really actively thought of him that way; sure, you thought he was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking, but… You had never thought of him splayed across his sheets, never thought of him making sounds like those, sounds that went straight to your core, never thought of him under you, on top of you, and—You had to stop. You were starting to get a little hazy yourself, and it certainly didn’t help anything when you remembered he had said your name.

Some time had passed when he emerged from his room, head ducked low, pants repositioned, and belt in hand. That you were confused about. And then he was standing right in front of you, kneeling down, making himself so small, and handing you the belt. You took it in your hands, just puzzling over it, when you looked to see tears dripping from his face to the floor and remembered what he’d told you—about his mother. You gasped and threw the thing all the way across the room and fretted over him when he flinched. “Credence, I—How could you think I would hurt you with that?”

His wide eyes, glossy with new tears, chanced a glance up at you through long eyelashes. “M-Ma said that it—That what I was doing in there—That it’s a sin. And that—That sins can’t go unp-punished.”

You sighed, low and full, and didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to your mouth before returning to the floor. You slid from your seat, kneeling in front of him, making yourself just as small. “It isn’t wrong to—to feel things, Credence. And that—What you were doing is only human. Everyone does that. It isn’t wrong, Credence.” You kept your voice soft, trying to soothe him.

Credence glanced to you again, and when he spoke, it was so soft that you were sure you must have heard him wrong. “W-Was thinking of you wrong?”

Everything in you stilled at that. You were having a very hard time not kissing him right that second, not taking him right there on the living room floor, so you had to say through gritted teeth, “No. That’s not wrong either.”

He finally met your eyes and must have seen what you were trying to hide behind your eyes because he very tentatively brought his hand forward to hold yours, his fingers playing at the edges of your palm. “D-Do you think of me too?” Credence certainly couldn’t have said that. You must have imagined it.

You indulged an answer anyway. “Well, I do now.” Your voice was just as quiet as his was, so quiet you must have been afraid to shatter the moment that had sparked between the two of you.

Credence blushed at that, and you weren’t sure if he was surprised by your answer or the fact that you had admitted it, to him, out loud. But the answer seemed to be enough for him as he posed his next thought to you. “Y-You can—You can kiss me, if you want to, Y/N.”

And that was more than enough, that’s for sure, after how you had been holding back. One of your hands went straight for his face while the other hooked into the top of his pajama pants and pulled him fully against you as you kissed him, and kissed him in earnest. He was shy, clearly mimicking your moves and the way you slid your lips against his, but he picked up soon enough when your tongue entered his mouth. It continued like that for a while, tentative exploration, but when he finally dared to poke his tongue out and into your mouth, you couldn’t help but suck lightly. And Credence let out the most unholy of sounds and it went right to your core as you pulled back to kiss down his neck and suck harshly at his collar bones. You tugged at his shirt and asked, “Is this okay?” Credence gave a hasty nod before removing his shirt, and yours, and falling between your legs as you scrambled onto the couch. He was hovering above you, hair so much longer than before and sweeping into his eyes. You reached a hand up to brush it out of his face and found yourself whispering reverently, “You’re so beautiful, Credence.”

He flushed red at that, and you thought fondly that it was adorable that his blush spread across his bare shoulders. “You really think so?” His voice was breathy and strained and absolutely wrecked, and you were sure he was thinking about all of the scars that you could so clearly see in the warm light of the apartment.

You kissed the corner of his eye. “Beautiful.” You kissed his nose. “Beautiful.” His mouth. “Beautiful.” Down his neck and chest, across all of his scars. “Beautiful.” Credence shuddered every time and began slowly rocking his hips against yours.

You didn’t think he really knew what to do, but he was getting the idea because, once he had started pushing his hips against you, he got some of the friction he’d been needing and began to move harder, faster against you. You gasped and let out a long, low moan at the way he was rubbing against you, and you opened your eyes to see Credence staring down at you, eyes wide and disbelieving and mouth hanging open. You tentatively moved your hands under his pants to grip his ass and push him down further against you, giving the both of you more attention where you needed it, and nearly had an orgasm that second at the strangled “Yes” that left Credence’s mouth.

You slid his pants down further, and he understood, kicking them off as you hastily removed your underwear and drew him back against you with your legs. “Please.” You sounded absolutely fucked out, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care at how needy you were being as you scraped your nails gently against him and pulled his hair lightly. “Please.” The strain in your voice was tangible.

You looked to him and were knocked out of breath at the pure adoration in his eyes, the absolute awe. “Okay, just—Just help me, tell me w-what to do, please. I want too, but I—”

You kissed him gently, to keep him from panic. “Of course, Credence, of course.”

You positioned him correctly and let him enter you at his own pace, moaning louder the further he pressed among intermittent cries of Yes and More and Beautiful. You guided him with your hands on his ass for a while, but he picked up on his own, letting out low, throaty moans and cries of your name that sounded vaguely like a prayer, if you’d ever heard one. When you went to look in his eyes, you noticed they were white as he opened them, with his obscurus curling around the both of you, and you couldn’t help but think he was more beautiful than ever.

He felt incredible inside you, so you couldn’t help your exclamation of “I love you” coming desperately from your lips, which caused him to curl his body around you as he came, obscurus exploding around you both. You came not long over that, the feeling of him pulsing inside you and his body crushing you doing you in.

You let him collapse against you, ragged breath fanning across your neck and shoulder, and stroked smooth lines up and down his back. Minutes passed before he pressed a soft, almost imperceptible kiss to the hollow of your throat as he whispered, “I love you too.”

You heard his breaths even out and knew he was asleep, and you couldn’t help but think you were very glad to have agreed to house-sit.

“My little sister”// Jack Maynard Imagine

Warnings: Mentions of bullying 

Word count: 627

“Shhhh,” I said rocking the crib. Jack, your fiancé, was currently at Conor’s flat, filming a video so I stayed home to take care of our baby. There was a knock on the door. “Coming!” I said. I picked up the crying little girl from the crib. “Come on Laila its okay,” I said rocking her, walking to the door. I opened the door to see Jack’s little sister standing there. 

“Anna?” She stayed looking down and I held the baby in one arm and pulled her inside. “Here let me go put Laila to sleep and I’ll be right back okay? Make yourself comfortable.”  She nodded keeping her eyes glued to the floor. I walked into the nursery and placed Laila back into her crib. I walked back into the living room and saw her sitting on the couch. I sat down next to her.

 "Anna?“ I asked. She didn’t look up at me. "Anna. Look at me,” I said. She shook her head. “Do your mom and dad know you are here?” She hesitated but slowly shook her head. “Okay well, I have to tell them you are here so they don’t worry okay babe?” She nodded. I walked into the kitchen and called Anna’s mom. “Hello?” She answered. “Hey I just wanted to let you know that Anna is here and not to worry,” I said. She let out a breath of relief. “Good let her know I love her. She’s been having some problems at school lately and she just hasn’t been herself,” she said. “I’ll talk to her,” I said. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll let you two talk. Love you,” she said. “Love you too,” I said before hanging up. 

I walked back into the living room sitting next to Anna. “Anna, what’s wrong?” I asked. She looked up at me. There was a cut under her eye and her cheek was red with a bruise. “Anna who did this to you?” I said shocked. She started to cry. “It was these 2 girls. They always do stuff like this. I-I didn’t even d-do anything to them,” she stuttered crying. “Shhh it’s okay,” I said pulling her close letting her cry into my shoulder. She sobbed. I rubbed her back. 

The door unlocked and opened revealing Jack. I looked at him. “Anna?” Jack said taking his jacket off. She continued to cry. Jack sat next to Anna on the other side. She looked at him. “Who the fuck did that to you?” Jack said with anger in his voice. “Jack, calm down,” I said. “No, I’m not going to calm down who the fuck did this to my little sister!” He yelled. Consequently, Laila started crying. “Jack, will you go get her?” I asked. He took a deep breath and nodded.

 "If they ever bother you again, don’t listen to them and don’t let them beat you up. Just ignore them completely, trust me it drives them mad. You are stronger than them physically and mentally. You are such a beautiful, talented girl. Don’t let anyone tell you any different or try to ruin that for you.“ I said. She hugged me. I hugged back, rubbing her back lightly. "You know what always makes me feel better?” “What’s that?” She said.

 "Babies, and puppies. But we don’t have a puppy because Jack won’t let me get one, yet, but we have a baby. Want to hold her?“ I asked. She nodded. Jack came into the room holding while she cried. Jack handed her to Anna. Laila immediately stopped crying and I smiled. "I think she likes you,” I said. A smile broke out on her face and Jack sat next to me. “Thank you,” he whispered in my ear kissing my cheek.

momdadimpoppunk  asked:

For the I love you prompts: 26!

I decided to try something new-ish (rather it’s going back to how I used to write? Oh whatever, it’s different from my usual style). PG, angst. 

Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave

You find yourself in an elevator at 2.42 pm surrounded by patients, family members and maybe a nurse or a doctor you don’t know personally. Your eyes don’t see them, your ears don’t hear them. It’s 2.42 pm on a Tuesday and this should mean nothing. To you, right now, it is everything.

You worked a long shift; you don’t remember when you started. Some time before midnight, you think. It doesn’t matter. You didn’t do this on purpose, oh no. None of it. It’s been a week. You’re fine. You’re always fine. This was your decision after all, wasn’t it? You and your logic, sounds his voice deep inside. A dark ring, painfully knocking against your eardrum. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It’s been a week, but it feels like a lifetime.

The elevator stops with a ding that yanks you back into the current moment. A mother ushers two grinning children inside. One, a young boy, grins at you, and you forget it all for a moment and smile back. He turns away, he’s not yours, he doesn’t know or care about you; you’re all alone here. The smile on your face fades away just like their small, giddy voices. You slaved yourself through pediatrics after giving up your own child; for what, you wonder sometimes, silently, tasting the vile, cursing yourself and him, right before you fall asleep. You treat children, small ones, young ones (and always one that would be his age; there’s always that one kid), scared and brave ones. In the beginning it felt like tearing off a band-aid again, again and again. To make yourself numb. There are scars now, if you know where to look (there’s only one person who knows where to look and he keeps his eyes closed these days), but it no longer stings and burns.

It’s 2.43 pm, just one minute has passed, and the elevator starts to move again. Your stomach drops, reminds you of flying; up and down, down and up so many times. You stopped counting. Once, you’re sure of it, you could have asked him; how many times did we fly together, Mulder? On average? He’d have grinned at you, you can see it in your memory, will it to go away, and he would have given you a number. No way to check it you know it would have been right. It’s been a week, it’s 2.43 pm, and you shouldn’t think of him.

Your mind is spitting out images; you think of the way his hand finds its place on your back whenever you’re walking somewhere. You are reminded of your first kiss, in a hospital no less, both wearing bruises, both happy for a moment, a fraction of time in the new millennium. You think of the way his hands roamed your body every night mapping every inch of you for his eternity. You think of the time you handed him your son and the way his eyes lit up when he held him. The way he looked at you then, always maybe, like you were the elusive truth. You think of his arms surrounding you, teaching you how to play baseball even though you knew exactly how to play (and he didn’t let go when you confessed). The good tips the scale in his favor; none of this is why you’re here one week later with your mind running, stumbling and your stomach somersaulting.

You think of the first time he said I love you. He’d been saying it for years without words, once or twice in jest, drugged and out of his mind. Then, one day, it was real. Your eyes fill with tears. You, the enigmatic Dr. Dana Scully, defender of privacy, keeper of emotions, try to keep them at bay. The first time he said I love you. So sincerely, so full of emotion. You cried then, too, you think and he wiped your tears away with a grin on his face. The memory fades like an old black and white movie and is replaced by the colorful sequel in vivid, blinding color; the last time he said I love you. One week ago you hauled a bag down the stairs full of things you don’t want or need. They’re just things. All you ever craved is etched in the lines on his face. You want the sparkle in his eyes when he tries to make you smile. Feel his warm lips on yours, on your neck, your hand. When you left he watched; his eyes empty, his mouth unmoving. For a man who always wants to believe he can’t see the truth when it stares right back at him. You stopped then, waited. Looked at your watch: 2.43 pm, Tuesday.

“I love you.” He told you then, his voice hollow and strange. You picked up the bag, took a step, and another; each one a bit harder. “I love you.” A hint of desperation as you took the next step. “I love you, Scully.” You were almost at the door. “Please…” A broken plea that would replay again and again in your mind later when you were alone. His hands came to your waist, no pressure, just hovering there, uncertain. “Please don’t leave me. Stay. Just… stay.” You looked at him, this broken man at your feet and your hand itched with the need to reach out into the abyss of his soul to save him from himself. His hand grabbed your jacket (he bought it for you, once), a little pressure now, holding on. “I love you. I love you so much.” His voice broke (when did the rest of him break? You wondered then, you wonder still) and you took his clammy hand, freed your jacket from his clutch. “I know,” you said, willing your tears to wait, to give you this moment of strength, “I’m just waiting for you to love yourself again, too, Mulder.” You left.

“Are you all right, Miss?” The mother of two, one child on each side of her, tilts her head sympathetically.

“I’m fine.” You assure her and nod. You take a deep breath and the moment passes. It’s 2.45 pm and you move on.

Goodbye

Prompt: You let Chanyeol cheat because you’re dying of an illness

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2050


To Chanyeol, whom I love.



It’s a funny thing, or at least I find it funny, ironic even to begin an introduction with analyzing farewells. Please do not take this in an ominous way, I do not mean for that sort of tone. Just lighthearted pensivity that comes with being stuck in the same room everyday. A way to let go of my thoughts.

There are so, so many ways to say goodbye, have you thought about it? A simple, curt “bye.” If you repeat it, “bye-bye,” it’s childlike, cuter, friendly. Some dialects transform it to “buh-bye.”

Have a nice day, afternoon, evening: Friendly. Well wishing. Used in a slightly more formal context.

See you later: Casual, hopeful, cheery.

Farewell: Final, formal, tinged with emotion. Slightly outdated. Originating from “fare thee well,” meaning travel happily, safely.

Take care: A more modern version of “farewell.” Take care of yourself, while I’m gone. Take care of yourself while we are parted.


And finally, the root concept:


Goodbye.



A parting with good feelings.

Often a formal way to verbally initiate a separation, and ironically, although the word itself uses “good,” it is often found in situations blanketed by negativity. Frustration with family members when you slam your room door as a child, or when you angrily press the red button to hang up.  Breaking up. Believing you will never see someone again.

Knowing you won’t see them again.


Forgive me, Chanyeol. I didn’t want this to turn dark again. I meant to write this with the happiness of your smile, like the sun. The glow of your cheeks, like the full moon on a cloudless night. The twinkle in your eye like that of stars.





For the past seemingly endless months, I’ve been in countless rooms, all the same.

White. A color to symbolize purity. Cleanliness.

You get sick of it very quickly.

The walls are white, the curtains are white, the pillows, the blankets, the clothes are white. It’s to bring the facade of perfection though I am imperfect. I am not pure. I am not clean. I am riddled with spreading disease.

I digress.


The paradox that many things change yet remain the same, and many things remain the same yet are changed. Different rooms, all the same. There’s always a doctor, though each room holds a different one.

Different rooms, different doctors, different facilities, different treatments, different results, different pains stretching over my body, fluctuating in intensity. All the same questions, the same procedures, the same pinch of the needle, the same emptiness inside, the same boredom, the same color, the same pain plaguing my mind. The same Chanyeol always by my side, holding my hands, kissing my cheeks, hugging me close, wary of the various tubes and machines.

The same Chanyeol.

Yet different.




I remember the first time walking into a hospital like this, as a patient. Tests and doctors and drawing blood and taking samples and scans and everything all at once. Professionally in order for them. Confusing and chaotic for us. You held my hand tightly.


I remember before the first surgery to get the growth, the t-word, to get it out. I was so scared. I was terrified for weeks. I cried so much. I was worried but I was hopeful. It was still shocking to think of myself having the c-word. I never imagined this. You kissed my cheeks, carrying my tears away.


I remember the day the doctor entered the room, coat as white, as clean, as pure as ever. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Both of you have been fighting so hard.” He looked at you, eyes forlorn. “You may want to sit down.”

They had spread to my lungs. They were eating, feasting away at my breath. I was in too much pain to cry. I was too numb from so much pain. All I could do was lay there, staring, listening to you cry out the pain for me. For us. You held me in your arms. You were broken, wary of the various tubes and machines that had become part of me.

The next morning, early afternoon, when we woke up, I said I still had time. Limited, but everyone has limited time. No one lives forever. Just some longer than others. I still had over a year left. A year and a half. I would lose my hair, and I would receive more scars, but I still had a year and a half with friends and family. A year and a half with you.


And now we are trapped in what seems like an endless cycle. A repeat of yesterday happened the day before and the day before that and before that and before that…Seemingly endless. But we both know how it ends. We both know when it will end.

We both know my days are numbered. I don’t know the number. Neither do you, nor the doctors and their white coats.

It is a number known only by God.




I believe I’ve given up on attempting to ward off tragedy. But I knew since the beginning of this letter that I would eventually succumb to it. After all, I am the one writing this.




You are still the same, but different. Still sleeping next to me, holding my hand. Still bringing me flowers and gifts and movies and affection and love. Thank you for staying the same.

The passcode to your phone has always been the same. It touches my heart that you trust me that much.

I’ve betrayed you.


You were sleeping, eyes puffy from crying with me. You always cried with me. I don’t know how many times you’ve cried alone, but you’ve always been there with me to kiss away my tears. How long have you stayed in this same white room with me? I apologize for taking away from your life. We’re both young, and you’ve spent so much time with me in the same white rooms that were always changing. But for the past year and a half, we’ve been living in one room, now. How nice.


I digress again.

Forgive me, my mind tends to wander along these walls I’ve memorized months and months and months ago.



You were sleeping beside me.

I was reading.

Your phone lit up.

There was a number unknown to me, and I was curious.

I’ve betrayed your trust. Please forgive me.

But as I betrayed your trust, it was also fed to me.




I was angry…no, that’s a childish word. Furious. Livid. Wrathful. I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to rip you from your dreams so you could see my shattered reality. I wanted to hurt you. The one place where I was barricaded from pain by your hands, your embrace, your kiss. It’s now broken.

For the first time, I cried by myself.

You were there, but I was alone.

My emotions whipped my mind into a maelstrom. My tears were silent as I read. I wanted to look away. I wanted to stop. I wanted to smash your phone into the white walls. Break a hole in the plaster. Create something new for me to look at.



My heart…it hurts more than my body.





She said that she loves you too.

I’m telling you this because in my rage I deleted her response. Her words for you. The response that she had stolen from my lips, from my heart. Those were supposed to be my words.

I wanted to delete the whole chain of messages. Your pain, her comfort, words of affection and love exchanged between you both. I wanted to erase them so you would know that I knew.

But then I realized that you would know. You would know that I found out.


My heart aches, for I am not something that will last for much longer.

If you knew that I knew, what kind of guilt would eat at your heart?



More than what you feel now is the correct answer.




You are the same Chanyeol that took me on sporadic trips. The same Chanyeol that wrote songs for me, about me, to me. The same Chanyeol that held my hand through all those tests, who kissed my frightened tears away, who held my painful body so delicately, so securely in your arms.

Yet you are a different person now.

I thought the look in your eye was because my time was drawing close. And it was, but it was more. It was guilt.

Did you curse yourself? Scream questions to yourself about how you could love two people at once?



Chanyeol.


My love.


It is possible. Like how a parent loves their children. Like how I would rather die for all of my friends rather than have to pick just one.

It is possible.

Set your mind at ease.

Set your heart at ease.

Please.

I want you to be free from this guilt. I won’t last much longer. It’s already too much for me to get out from under these white sheets and stretch my legs. It hurts too much. It’s too harsh on my lungs. My lungs that are being chewed away.

Don’t tell me not to say it, because it’s true and we need to face it like how we faced all those other tests, all those other trials.


My year and a half is over.

I’m going to die soon.

I know.

I can feel it.



I am not writing this to hurl you into more guilt, please, Chan. For months you’ve tried to hide yourself from me. But as much as it hurts, I wish I had known sooner. It brings me peace that you will be able to move on after a little bit of time. I know I still matter to you, that you still love me, that you will miss me when I’m gone, and that comforts me. But it brings me joy that she understands, that she loves you too, that she will wait for you to be ready to move on.


Take it Chanyeol.

Take your life back.

You are still young.

I’ve taken away years. You’ve been with me in plain white rooms for years, and I thank you beyond what words can ever say. But she can free you from these white walls. She can bring you to green grass and blue skies. Orange sunsets and pink sunrises. The velvety purple of dusk. The yellow sun. A silver moon. Twinkling stars, like your eyes when you smile.

You don’t smile much anymore. I miss it. But that’s ok, as long as you let yourself smile later with her.


Love her.

With every bit of passion and care as you did with me and more.

I feel so happy, so secure because of you. Let her feel the same, please. Share it with her, your love. Don’t let guilt chain your warmth and smiles and kisses and hugs and laughter to a breathless body.

Don’t feel guilty, Chanyeol, I beg you.

You have so much to give, don’t waste it on someone who won’t be able to return it anymore.


Before the pain started, when we shared plans about the future. Vacations, pets, where to live, a home, how many kids, all the soft whispers, the promises. Make new ones with her. Move on when you’re ready, but don’t linger for too long. I want you to enjoy your life.

I wish I could’ve met her. I wish I could thank her for bringing you happiness during this time of sorrow and loss. I wish I could tell her all the things you like, all the things you don’t like. Your habits, the good ones and the bad ones and the annoying, trivial ones. I wish I could tell her everything I know about you.

But it would be more intimate for you both to figure it out together.





I want this letter to end with a beginning. My book has ended, but there’s a new chapter for you. Please continue to write in it. As you move on with your limited time, cherish life.


Take care of yourself, for I want you to be happy when I see you later.

Farewell. Travel safely and happily.

I love you, Chanyeol.

Thank you.

Let’s part with good feelings.





Goodbye

Joker Imagine *Song inspired* - Lay Me Down

Hi! This is based on the song ‘’All the pretty girls’’ by Kaleo ( click song title to open the song if you want to ). This was requested, but I won’t display the request because it can spoil the story. Enjoy!


Joker’s P.O.V.

Some say that bad people don’t deserve anything good. They say that evil can’t get pure. I didn’t believe that at all since I had Y/N, my girlfriend. I was evil, to be completely honest. Come on, being the clown prince of crime and the king of Gotham didn’t come if you were a good person. I killed, I robbed and I enjoyed bad things. 

Then there was Y/N. She came into my life and at first, I tried to push her away. It wasn’t easy to let someone in and get to know me, but somehow it happened and I was so happy to have her by my side. Damn, we knew how to have fun. We made the Bat chase us around the city quite often. She liked it. Her laugh was like music to my ears when I drove ten times faster than anyone else around us. Everything was just great! I had let her in.

We had been separated for a week now, but I was going to see her soon. I wouldn’t be alone, no, all our friends were coming too. Well, whatever we could call friends, more like our goons and a few criminals we knew. Even her old friends were here which was special. Tonight would be about the king and queen of Gotham. It made my gut twist in a sick way because I was nervous which I rarely was. 

A week ago we had been sailing. Yes, it was romantic and all that shit, but the main reason for it was an island near shore here in Gotham. Y/N and I broke into a fancy-ass house and we killed the owners so we could stay there for a day. It was one of the best days in my life. She opened up to me about her past and I was there to listen. When I was alone with Y/N, I felt like I didn’t have to put on a show. I could just relax and being me, relaxing wasn’t something I could do often. I was always busy planning our next crime.

Anyway, Y/N swam butt-naked in the sea and she even got me in the water, but I had my clothes on. We had negotiated things about her stupid ex-boyfriend and we ended up agreeing that he’d be dead once we got back home. Her ex was a man called Samuel, a total player who had used Y/N. How disrespectful. No one and I mean no one would disrespect my queen.

             The rain made me snap out of my thoughts. Gotham city seemed to be the center of rainclouds.  The sky was very dark and dull, but the full moon shined through. The wind was cold but the breeze wasn’t too harsh. I looked around and saw people waiting. ‘’We can do this Y/N’’ I told her quietly. Then I looked at her, feeling how tears stung my eyes. Man, this felt unreal. This was happening now!

I made sure that the strap on my shoulder was there tightly. Then I gave Y/N a small pat, almost comforting her before I started walking further. Everyone’s eyes turned to us and it reminded me of everything. I just had to keep myself together and not freak out or do some crazy nonsense. Not today, this was way too important.

The five people around me were quiet. Frost was on Y/N’s other side. I took a deep breath and I forced myself to ignore the dirt that came onto my shiny black shoes. The dirt turned muddy because of the rain that soaked our clothes. A few more steps later that felt extremely heavy, we stopped. This is it. It would happen right here on this spot. ‘’You ready boss?’’ Frost asked me carefully, looking right into my eyes. The people around us were still quiet, but some sniffled and cried. There were rows of my goons with loaded guns in their arms.

Everyone was dressed in black. ‘’Yes’’ I told Frost, signaling the four others too. Frost nodded to them all, which broke my little heart that Y/N had once fixed. Too bad she could never do that again. I looked into the deep hole beneath hr and I wanted to wake up, but this wasn’t a dream. This was her funeral.

So we started lowering her casket into the ground. It was a white one with a carving of a swan. I hope she could be happy because my Y/N deserved that. She was such a beautiful girl. I hadn’t cried for years until her death and I swear it was close now. I loosened my grip slightly so she could go down. Then the casket hit the bottom and we pulled up the straps. There she was.

My breath stopped and I stared down at the casket that would be covered in dirt in a few minutes. It felt like I was looking at a nightmare. I couldn’t believe that my beautiful queen was in that wooden box! I couldn’t save her. ‘’I’m so sorry’’ I whispered before facing the other way. I was supposed to hold a speech before she’d be buried. Everyone looked at me now. Although I loved attention, this was different. I hated it. For once I could say that I hated death.

The cemetery was honestly depressing. I saw so many graves around us, so many flowers some dead and some alive, then our guests in black. The grass was wet and it had paths on it because so many people had been here. I cleared my throat and I took a deep breath. Instead of looking at someone, I looked at a nearby tree on a small hill. 

‘’Y/N was too young and too good for this’’ I started, trying my best to sound strong for her. Making a good speech wasn’t my specialty, but I truly tried. ‘’She was the only person who understood me and I felt like I could understand her. Y/N wasn’t a bad person although people would like to think that. Being with a bad person doesn’t make you one. She was incredibly beautiful and sweet. I knew she could accomplish so much, but now that chance is gone. Although religion and stuff like that are hard to understand, I hope she goes to a good place’’ I spoke slowly, holding back tears, but it was hard.

Then I saw something close to the tree. A black figure came closer but stopped. It was Batman. He was just standing there and I knew he’d get shot if he even tried to come and interrupt this. For some reason, it didn’t alert me, because I kinda expected to see him here. ‘’We’re here today to say goodbye to the queen of Gotham city. She shall never be forgotten and I’ll make sure of that’’ I promised them surely. Then I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. I could almost believe she was beside me.

‘’Y/N I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you. I didn’t want this to happen to you’’ I said more sadly. Then I opened y eyes and I grabbed a shovel. So did the five goons, but I would put dirt in there first. That was a deal. I grabbed a little dirt and then I put the shovel above her grave. ‘’I love you’’ I whispered, saying three words I had said only a handful of times in my entire lifetime. As I let the dirt fall, so did my tears. The rain washed them away which was good.

So we started filling up her grave. It was so unfair! I would do anything to get her back, but I couldn’t. I was surprised that batman didn’t come closer to try and get me. I wasn’t in my best state so I doubt he would find it hard. Maybe he felt guilty as well?

You see Y/N died in such an unnecessary accident. There was a gang making trouble in the city. She was curious about it so we went downtown to see it for ourselves. We meant no harm for once. Batman was already there before us. He was fighting the gang and we watched. I was going to grab my gun from the car just in case, only leaving her side for ten seconds which was enough.

One of the men took her, dragging her in the middle of the mess. I tried to run to her, man I shot everyone around her to get there. No one gave her a helping hand even tho so many could have. I remembered how she screamed when the gang member stabbed her abdomen as I ran. I reached her too late and so did batman. He had tried to save Y/N, but he couldn’t either It all happened so fast.

So there I sat on the cold ground with her dying body in my arms. Her blood had completely soaked her and my clothes, but I didn’t give a damn. ‘’Don’t..blame y-yourself’’ She had told me so weakly. I yelled that she wouldn’t die. I was so furious that I was losing my mind. ‘’I love you’’ Were her last words and then she had died in my arms. I could still feel that haunting moment as it happened a minute ago.

Batman didn’t take me to Arkham that day. I guess he showed mercy or something.

I had lost her.

And now I had lied her down to her last resting place.

7

Favorite Reads of March. 2017

March was a month of untraditional, but badass, ladies. The overweight beauty pageant, a female VW mechanic and Vlad The Impaler reimagined as a teenage girl. I laughed, cried and fell in LOVE in March. I loved almost everything I read and could not put it down. I specifically want to point out The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli which comes out on Tuesday (April. 11). It’s one of the best representations of low self-esteem and what it’s like to have a crush you don’t believe will be returned.  

9

ADORE DELANO COLOR AESTHETICS:
White

anonymous asked:

No offense, but both on here and your main blog, you're always so pro-black, anti-white. I'm wondering why? You're white yourself, right? Why hate your own skin color?

…Okay, my friend. I will give you leniency and say you’re a little ignorant on some matters concerning myself and my opinions, and want clarification. Let me start off by saying: I am not anti-white. I’m anti-white supremacy. I can just learn to take a joke concerning my skin colour. Ours are about white girls being hipsters or white dudes and their lack of respect for when people say “no”. 

People have literally been making derogatory jokes about black people for years. I can take it.

But, if you really want context, let me tell you a story.

Imagine two sisters. One with black skin, one with white skin, sharing the same white mother, growing up in a white family, in a predominantly white town. Imagine a large age-difference between them. Say half a decade. 

As sisters do, they bicker and they squabble. One claims the mother loves them more for being the first-born, the latter cries, and all goes to hell. The younger white sister, seeing little wrong, assumes her older sister is just a jerk who likes to pick on her. Because, hey, she was a kid. That’s how kids react.

But she thinks the world of her older sister, who has fire in her eyes and passion in her soul. Perhaps a little too angry and too violent, too quick to assume the world revolves around her or will point the revolver. Who will climb trees the highest to prove a point, who will mouth off at the slightest provocation. She’s cool. She’s independent. And most of all, the slightest inkling the little sister is being bullied, she will kick ass. Even when the little sister’s “father” buggered off, she was always the one there to defend the little sister.

She never notices why there is so much anger simmering under that beautiful older sister until years later.

But cracks start to emerge.

Family members assume little worsts about the older sister. The older sister spouts off “she gets away with it because she’s the perfect white girl”. The little sister is confused–she gets shouted at when she’s been bad! Why is her sister jealous? They both get punished!

More cracks show. Her beautiful sister leaves the house.

Years pass. Small slips in attitude.

The older sister “speaks well”. She has a “good attitude”. Because she was raised “in the right family”. 

People the little sister once adored now show attitudes that confuse and upset her. 

“Bloody immigrants”. “Go back to where they came from.” “They don’t belong here”. “The cities aren’t the same”. “It’s lost it’s culture”.

… 

She’s heard these things all her life, the older sister. The younger sister had the unlucky fortune of being raised blind.

… 

The reason I am so passionate is because I grew up as a textbook example of ignorant white priveledge

And my silence was violence for someone I cared about.

It’s not just violence in fists

But hatred spread through words.

And I am now in a position where I can voice my opposition.

Never again will I be ignorant.

Never again will I be complacent.

Never again will I be blinded.

Never again will I assume “I am one of the good ones”. The moment I do that, I excuse myself from learning more.

The Blonde Beauty- Lucaya

so new oneshot!! this is a short one, but i cried all the same. tell me what you think? 

xo maya

“Got a problem with me?”

Lucas Friar was leaning against the pole beside my locker, and I turned away.

“No.”

He pushed himself off. “I think you do.”

“What do you want?” I asked angrily, and a smirk curled the corners of his mouth.

“You don’t remember….do you?”

“Remember what?”

I was getting more and more annoyed by him. Lucas Friar had made a beeline for me the moment I had moved back to New York for senior year, taking every opportunity to annoy me, and I had no idea why.

“Come on, Hart,” He tilted his head, and leaned against the locker next to mine. “You have to remember at least something.”

For a second, something flashed in his eyes that was almost sad as he looked down at me, but it was gone the next moment.

I glared up at him, frustrated, because he was tall, and I was short. And he teased me mercilessly for it.

“I don’t know what the hell it is you want me to remember,” I slammed my locker shut, gathering my books in my hands, and wanting to get away from Lucas as soon as possible. “But I obviously don’t. So fuck off.”

He threw his hands up into the air, and smiled at me again, that same infuriating smile that he had on whenever he teased me. “Fine, sorry.”

I shook my head, and turned away, walking down the hallway.

But as I was almost out of view at him, I heard him mutter under his breath, “Blonde Beauty.”

Those two words made my books clatter out of my hands, and I stood, stunned.

No fucking way did he just say that to me.

No. Way.

It wasn’t possible- there was no freaking way he had just said those two words to me.

And then, something stabbed in my memory, and I was sucked away to 8th grade, where I hahurred into his face and teased him. Where he stopped me from beating people up, and where I didn’t want him to ride in the rodeo.

And the campfire, where he almost kissed me.

I took deep shaky breaths and slowly turned, my face completely white, all the blood drained from it.

Lucas’s dark green eyes met mine, and the word came out in a whoosh, in one breath.

“Huckleberry?”

chapter 1

Rich || Jaebum

Originally posted by mixedangel

Reader (you) x Jaebum ft Jinyoung (JJ PROJECT)

Word Count: 1979

Genre: Sad/angst (lmao idk tbh… i’m just setting the mood)

note: this is the very beginning of the story so bare with me. i’m just building the foundation of this story aka the mood as they call it in english class. i promise it will get spicer later on ;) -admin


“You can’t take me away from my own house!” I screamed as I tried to fight the two men who held me back. 

“Sorry, (Y/N). You can blame your father for my actions.” The man behind the sunglasses said as he signal the two men to drag me out. I screamed and thrashed around, hoping someone nearby would hear to help me. However, it was too late. I was kicked out. 

“Miss! This is the last stop. Please get off.” I heard the bus driver yell down the aisle. I wiped another tear that fell down my cheek before walking towards the front of the bus. 

“I’m sorry but, where are we?” I softly asked the bus driver. After getting brutally kicked out of my house, I hopped on the bus and hope that it would take me far away from Seoul as possible. Of course, it wasn’t possible since I was still in Seoul but in a different area. 

“Hwagok-dong.” He replied back. Politely thanking him, I hopped off the bus and looked around me. Surrounding me were three hotels that looked affordable to stay at for the night. I sighed to myself as I pulled up the straps on my bag onto my shoulder and walked into a hotel. 

I looked around to see people, lounging around with a smile plastered on their faces. Laughter filled the room as I continued to walk towards the counter. Their humorous stories filled the air, intoxicating me as I tried to match the mood in the room. It was sure a happy day for most people, but not for me. 

“Excuse me, do you have a room for one?” I asked man who stood at the counter.

“Yes, we do. But it’ll be an hour wait to get the room ready.” He replied back, smiling at me.

“How much is one night?” I softly asked the man, forcing a smile upon my lips. 

“Around $70, ma’am.” He stated. Laughter roared in the room again as I opened my purse and pulled out my wallet. 

“Mastercard, please.” I exclaimed, as I handed my card to him. 

Turning my head, I looked at the people who were enjoying the night. To be honest, I envied their happiness. For me, I worked my butt off to pay for food and rent. I was a hard-worker and I never received anything from anyone. I believed that the best things in life would come when all the hard-work was done. Which was why I didn’t call anyone up to help me with my house because I knew I could handle it on my own. 

“Sorry, ma’am. You card has been declined.” The man sighed as he handed my card back. I forced another smile, took the card and acted like everything was okay.

“Oh,” I simply stated, “No worries, I’ll just find somewhere to stay.”

“Goodnight, ma’am.” The man said, waving me goodbye as I turned my back on him. 

Walking past the group of people, I thought about the different things I could do while I was temporarily homeless. I could sleep on a bench or use the physical cash in my wallet to buy myself beer. Then I thought those two weren’t the best options. As I stood outside in the cold air, I pulled up my phone and called the person I turn to in times like this. 

“(Y/N)?” I heard a rather familiar and soothing through the phone. 

“Jinyoung-ah.” I sniffled, suddenly having the urge to cry again. “I got kicked out.”

“What? When? Why didn’t you call me, (Y/N)? I could’ve helped you.” Jinyoung panicked through the phone. 

“Jinyoung-ah, can you come and get me?” I huffed out, avoiding the questions he fired at me. I heard Jinyoung sigh as a moment of silence passed through the phone. 

“Where are you?” His deep voice asked.

“Hwagok-dong.” I softly said as I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes.

“God, (Y/N), why are you all the way there?” Jinyoung sighed. “I have a meeting in five minutes but I’ll send someone to pick you up and drive you here.”

“Thank you.” I whispered as I hung up the phone and sat down on the sidewalk. 

I placed my hands on my face as I sat there lost in thought. With my mastercard declined, that meant I had no money and nowhere to go. I couldn’t earn as much money as other people did since I was a design student, working at an internship in Seoul. I helped designers develop their products. And on top of that, I create my own designs, hoping someone would accept them. For now, I’m living on the edge of life. 

What seemed like hours, I heard a car pull up somewhere near where I was sitting. My hands were still on my face and my exhaustion level was to the point where I could pass out any minute. At this moment, I didn’t know if it was the men who invaded my house or Jinyoung’s chaffer that pulled up beside me. 

“Miss. (Y/N)?” A voice off to the side timidly asked. Removing my hands, I looked at the old man whom I was familiar with. Jinyoung’s chaffer took me by the hands and gently got me inside the car. And without a word, he drove off to that place where Jinyoung worked at. 

“Thank you, Fabian.” I nodded my head as we arrived, thirty minutes later, at a big building in the middle of Seoul. 

“Mr. Park is on the top floor. He’s in a meeting but there’s a lady there who will help you.” Fabian said as he closed the door of the car and escorted me towards the door. Business men passed by, scurrying quickly just to get home to their loved ones as I entered the big modern building. 

Giving Fabian another thank you, I head towards the elevator and quickly entered the one packed with business people. Pressing the button to the top floor, I waited with people who complained about their workload and how their bosses treated them like trash. After what seemed like forever, the elevator finally stopped at the top floor as I walked out into a big area. 

“Miss. (Y/N)!” A voice called from behind. I turned around to see a woman in her mid-forties waving at me. I looked around in thought she was calling someone else but, realized she was talking to me. Forcing a smile, my heels clicked on the marble floor as I approached her. 

“Yes, that’s me.” I smiled sweetly, making a good impression with a lady who worked for Jinyoung. 

“Mr. Park has told me about you and is currently in a meeting. He won’t be out in a while so, you can sit in the lounging area until he’s finished.” The lady flashed a smile before pointing me towards the white couches.  

“I assume it’s a very important meeting.” I joked around, lightening the mood a bit and hoping she wouldn’t get a bad impression of me. 

“It’s with the big boss and his son.” The woman whispered quietly. I widened my eyes, trying to look impressed as she grabbed me a glass of water. 

Kindly thanking her, I sat there waiting for the man who I knew could comfort me. If I could stay at Jinyoung’s house for a few days, I could sort out the problem I had with my house and borrow a loan from the bank. For awhile, I came up with plans that I could help me build a stronger foundation until I heard loud voices down the hall. 

I sat the edge of my seat, waiting for Jinyoung to show up. And just like a prince, he walked in wearing a nice tailored suit with his hair swept to the side. His face showed exhaustion but his mind was full of determination. 

Jinyoung was a smart man, and ever since I met him, I fell in love with him. It was months ago when Jinyoung confessed but the problem was we couldn’t date. Coming from a rich family who owns a business, Jinyoung had to get the family to approve of his relationship before he went any further. And like any rich families, it wasn’t accepted. I liked him, he liked me, but it was what people would call forbidden love. 

“(Y/N)!” Jinyoung said under his breath as his eyes caught mine. He changed from walking to running towards me with his face full of concern.

“Jinyoung-ah.” I cried as I walked towards him. I could already feel the tears stream down my face as Jinyoung wrapped me in his arms. I tugged on the white dress shirt as I cried into his chest. The one thing Jinyoung had me feel was safety because he was always there for me. 

“Shh,” He cooed as he ran his fingers through my hair, “It’s going to be alright.”

“It’s not.” I sniffled as I pulled away from him. “I lost my place, my credit card got declined and, I’ll probably lose my internship.”

“I offered you help, (Y/N). I could pay the debt your father owed to those men and yo-”

“I don’t want your charity.” I interrupted, wiping tears that fell down my face. “All I will ask is a place to stay for a few months and I’ll figure it out on my own.”

Jinyoung sighed as he leaned back and looked at me. His thumb touched his lips meaning that he was in deep thought. “You can’t stay at my house.”

“Wait, why?” I suddenly asked, collecting my emotions together. I knew Jinyoung too well and he would always offer me to stay at his place. Why wasn’t he acting his normal self today? 

“My family is over and, you know, I can’t have you over.” Jinyoung hinted. I pursed my lips and nodded my head. His family hated me and I knew it. Another reason why Jinyoung and I can’t date. 

“That’s okay.” I sighed. “I’ll find a place to stay.”

“No, you’re not staying anywhere out of my sight.” Jinyoung stated. “I’ll find someone who can keep you safe.”

“I’ll take her to my house.” A voice suddenly appeared from behind. Slowly, I turned around to face a strikingly handsome man whom eyes met with mine. Black hair swept up, eyes that could melt a girl’s heart, mouth that looked kissable and the smell of his cologne screamed manly. I looked away quickly, furiously trying to collect my thoughts together. Who was he?

“Problem solved!” Jinyoung beamed as he pat the handsome man in the back and smiled. “You can stay with Jaebum for awhile until my family leaves.”

“Uh.” I muttered out, completely in shock. It was odd that Jinyoung would easily let me stay at someone’s house, especially a man, without interrogating them. He was usually very protective of me but, not today. 

“It’s just only for a few days.” Jaebum smiled at me. “I can offer you my place.”

“Don’t worry, (Y/N).” Jinyoung chuckled as he saw the shock plastered on my face. “Jaebum and I have been friends since high school, I trust him.”

I looked back and forth at both men, trying to understand what was going on in their minds. Was Jinyoung crazy? Why would he throw me under the bus with a random man I haven’t met before? Not that I was complaining but, it just felt weird. 

“Are you sure?” I finally spoke up, hoping Jinyoung would take me back to his house. I’d rather live with his family than a random stranger. 

“Very sure.” Jinyoung firmly stated. “As long as Jaebum doesn’t make any moves on my girl, I’m okay with it.”

“Don’t worry, man.” Jaebum smirked, looking at me from head to toe. “I won’t.”