#bad relationship
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Impulsively writing a new fic loosely inspired by The Break Up (I'm experiencing the most intense writers block known to man and need a lil boost of creativity)
#undertale#fanfic#frans#frisk x sans#sans x frisk#break up angst#bad relationship#ah#i love depicting sans as a deadbeat dick#comfort character but also I know id despise this man irl#hahaha#life ruiner
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“Fuck you look handsome” 😂😂😂
#spanish kids and english#bad relationship#i would offer some private lessons lol#plus every single player of barca is a super model#he is soooo good looking i want him to be my baby boy#hector fort#fc barcelona
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tw bad relationship, anxiety, intimate whumper, manipulation
"I keep feeling so trapped! I'm sorry!" Whumpee was curled up on the couch, bawling their eyes out in utter despair. "I can't– I don't feel safe anywhere unless it's an open space, with many people or none around, or locked inside my room alone."
"I take it you don't really... want me here, then," Whumper said awkwardly, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they kickstarted this madness. With their insistent touching, and kissing, and disregard for boundaries and the word 'no', they managed to make Whumpee's own home into a death trap.
That was okay, though. In their confusion and eagerness to please them, Whumpee didn't connect the dots either. Nor did they want to tell the truth. They wouldn't have told them the truth, not even part of it, if they didn't feel like they were going to throw up if they couldn't be alone.
"I'm sorry," they repeated. "It's, it's not just you, okay? It's everyone."
"I get it. Well, I don't, but I'll try not to get offended." It was only half a joke, Whumpee could tell. There was no way not to offend them. "Hug?"
I don't want a fucking hug. I wish I did, I wish my skin wasn't crawling just at the mention of physical contact, but I can't control it. I want you to get out. Get the fuck away from me.
"Yeah," they said reluctantly, standing up on wobbly legs to try and placate them. A hug would hold them off for... a day? Two?
It was torture. Whumper held them tight, and they wanted nothing more than to be let go. Clearly, Whumper thought this was helping. Clearly, they didn't realise that hugs weren't helping the feeling of being trapped. How could they? A hug was a trap itself, suffocating and anxiety-inducing.
"I'm sure you'll get better," Whumper muttered against their neck, and Whumpee's guts churned. Get away, get away, get away.
"Yeah. Me too. Can you– can you leave now? Please. I'm so anxious, I need– I need to be alone, please."
Whumper laughed, barely masking their bitterness. "Right. Ten seconds of that was more than enough, huh?" They stepped away, finally letting Whumpee breathe.
"I'm sorry. I'll try to get better. I don't even know what's wrong with me."
"I'll be here if you need me."
Whumpee ushered them outside, hands itching to close the door and lock it twice. "I know. Thank you."
~
general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night
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"It was one of those relationships that lasted way longer than it should have. Like, yeah we hit it off at first, but we had different priorities for what we wanted out of each other, y'know? I wanted to be her girlfriend, she wanted me to be her minion she could forge into a world-ending living weapon loyal to her and her alone. The sex was great, of course, ironically perhaps because of that. She even gave me evil science bottom surgery, which was just sick as hell."
To the extent possible under law, Delilah H. Smith has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this work.
#shenanigans#microfiction#bad relationship#bad relationships#cryptid lesbians#trans stuff#eldritch awesome#evil#weird end of the world#she can make me worse#public domain#creative commons#creative commons 0#my stuff#my writing#living weapon
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276: I never got to know this city, but at least I knew the way out of there. (Look, this is a raw one. And still a rough one, even after twelve years. )
Image description: a three panel comic with polaroid frames. The panel shows berlin at night. the text on the panel reads: “I wish I'd never met her, it would be so much cheaper without all the therapy.” Text underneath reads: “J. krupitza / inspired by asofterworld.com” end Image description
#toxic#Berlin#bad relationship#red flag#night#diary of a dissembler#diaryofadissembler#polaroid#photocomic#photography#story#microfiction#a softer world fancomic#asofterworld#imagedescription#image description in alt
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Scars That Remind - 7
Will I ever finish this fic? Maybe... Maybe not...
I love how changing Darlin’s past has all these little changes on the present.
tags: bad bad relationship, Darlin is really trying, blood, violence, manipulation... you know, the Quinn package. Pack feels, pack siblings, pack family.
Scars That Remind - Chapter 7
-2 years later-
“I’ve been thinking about renting out one of the rooms at the house. Or maybe both…” Darlin said.
David looked up from his phone, surprised.
“I mean, the house is close to the DAMN campus,” they continued, chin almost touching their chest.
“Do you need money?” David asked, instantly regretting the tone the words came out with when Darlin tensed. They leaned back, like he’d pushed them. David reached out and touched their shoulder, pulling them closer before they could actually start backpedaling. His sibling was prone to escaping conversations. “Are the bills or the upkeep giving you trouble?” he rephrased. He’d known them long enough to know how fast they could close up if they thought they’d done something wrong or fallen short. If that happened, even if they were having problems with money, they wouldn’t tell him. They would figure out a way to fix it themself, even if that meant selling an organ or something insane.
Darlin shook their head. “No, it’s not that. The place is just…big.” They shrugged.
David felt like he’d been gut punched. Darlin was lonely? Jesus, hadn’t he run away from keeping the house himself for the same reason? It would be too big and too much of a reminder without his dad there. But Darlin had wanted to keep it, wanted to stay. He had offered again and again for them to come live at his apartment until they could sell the house and get a different place. But they didn’t want to give up that room—their space in a home.
Asher had lived in the house with them for a while before moving in with Babe a few months ago.
David nodded. “Yeah, I mean, of course you can do what you want with it but… You know you don’t have to keep it, right? If you want to, we can sell the house and you could—”
“No,” Darlin said fast, looking up at him with a flash of panic.
David shook his head fast, hand sliding around to the back of their neck to squeeze gently. “We’re not selling it if you don’t want to. Dad left it to both of us. If you want to live in it, you can. As long as you want.”
They relaxed a little, nodding.
“Do you want to get lunch? Or do you have classes today?” David asked. He tried not to check their neck for marks when he had a hand on the back of it. One side was a line of scars, no new ones flashing from under their jacket collar today. Quinn was in town again. Had been for a couple weeks.
David made sure he was told as soon as the asshole made an appearance in the city limits. But he had yet to see him for himself. He was pretty sure if he ever did, he might kill the leech. He and Darlin never talked about it, but the creep seemed to show up in Dahlia a couple times a year. Sometimes he came and went without incident, but other times Darlin got new scars. It was always short-lived though. Usually as soon as David noticed the abrasions and bruises, Darlin would shrug and tell him they’d handled it.
He didn’t know if they got back together in those short windows, if the biting came before the breakup, or if they fought when he was in town and that’s where the bites came from. He wasn’t sure how to ask since every time the opportunity came up, Darlin said it was handled—and then Quinn would be out of town again.
One time, he’d spotted a fang in the bottlecap bowl on the coffee table in the house right after one of those breakups.
All he could ever think to do was keep an eye out when the bastard was in town and remind Darlin time and again that he was always there for them. The last thing he wanted was for that bloodsucker to wrecking ball Darlin’s life when they finally seemed to be happy. They were studying at DAMN, after a lot of hemming and hawing about not being “college material” especially when they could just get a job and help out with the new business. Milo had finally pushed Darlin into going, practically filling out the forms for them and insisting he’d know if they missed a class.
David was grateful. Milo could push when David worried it might be too much coming from him.
Darlin checked the time and shrugged. “I’ve got a few hours.”
He nodded and led the way to the back exit on the den. Darlin had taken a bunch of basic courses their first term and blushed all the way to their ears when they told him they wanted to study history. He knew they were also taking healing classes. They didn’t talk about that either. They had no particular aptitude for it, but they were trying. He was afraid they were convincing themself they could have saved their dad that night if they’d known how.
When they got outside, Darlin put on a pair of sunglasses. David tossed them his keys and got in on the passenger side of his own truck. It was the only way they could ride anywhere together. For weeks after the accident, Darlin hadn’t gotten in any car. And then they got into his truck while he was driving and just about threw up. He had to pull over, and as soon as he did, they got out, shifted, and ran off.
It had taken half a year before Darlin could ride in the car with anyone and even then, they couldn’t do it with David. They tried to explain once, that it wasn’t that they didn’t trust him, it was just every time they looked over… And he understood. Every time they sat shotgun and looked to the side at him in a truck, they saw their dad that night.
So, Darlin drove. It was just about the only time David ever let anyone else drive his truck.
His phone chimed just as he was buckling up. He checked it while Darlin turned on the engine and pulled out. “Angel’s off work early,” he said, reading the text and hoping he didn’t blush. Fuck, how did they have that effect on him even when they weren’t there? They’d been dating for a few months, but it felt like they’d been in his life forever.
Darlin nodded. “We don’t have to do lunch. I can get out over near the campus and—”
“No,” David interrupted. “We’re going to lunch. I was just…” He coughed. “Would you care if Angel came too? You’ve only really met that once.”
Darlin took their eyes off the road for a flash, grin growing when they looked ahead again. “Seriously? I get to hang out with the infamous Angel?”
“Oh, fuck you, never mind.” He brought his phone back to life to start typing out a reply text.
“No! No, no! Of course, they can come. Shit, don’t make me out to be an asshole before they know me personally.”
“Why? You think you’re a special sort of asshole?” David smirked, tapping at the screen to tell Angel where to meet them. It was close to their work.
Darlin gasped in mock offense. “I am a special sort of asshole, and you know it!”
“Yeah, I know it.”
-
Darlin got home late from their healing class. They sucked at it, and it always left them tired as shit. Maybe that’s why they had them at night? So everyone could go home and crash afterward?
They walked from the campus to the house, crossing the park and ducking through a narrow path between fences into the residential area older than the university that butted up against it.
They weren’t really surprised to sense a vampire before they reached the driveway and cracked a smirk when they found Quinn waiting on their doorstep. He looked properly sulky for being locked out of the house. Not just locked out—warded out. They’d gotten their counselor to help them with that fun bit of magic a few months back.
Quinn had a sixth sense for when Darlin was at their lowest—when they would lean into the comfort of familiarity he offered at first and even accept some of the abuse when things turned. It was a toxic cycle. Darlin and Cam had talked about it plenty. It always ended fast though. The moment Quinn crossed one of those lines Darlin wouldn’t allow everything snapped. It always happened the same, like he was just there to see if Darlin had completely given up yet.
At their worst, they knew someday he’d be there when they did. When they couldn’t lift there chin anymore, Quinn would show up to lift it for them—but he’d be lifting to find a spot for his teeth. Darlin sometimes wondered if they tasted that good or if he’d seen something in them that first time they met, back when they were just a kid, something he wanted to be the one that broke.
But tonight was different. Either his timing was off, or maybe Darlin really had started to pull themselves out of the cycle—because they definitely weren’t interested in letting him in. He stood in front of their door, looking exactly the same as the first time they’d met him. Only that had been years ago. They’d been a teen. A kid really. They were old enough now to frown at him for that.
“I’ve been trying to call you, Misfit,” he said, leaning against their door, grinning to flash teeth like they would be excited to see him—excited that he came looking for them.
“I told you not to.”
That smile grew when it should have dwindled. “Pretending to be a good dog, are you?”
Darlin took a deep breath and slid their bag off their shoulder. It was like a crash course in their relationship. They were going to do the whole thing in one night. Meet. Establish familiarity. Take offense. Bleed. Leave.
Darlin settled their bag down on the grass, never taking their eyes off of him. “You smell like blood.”
“Thank you,” he cooed. He seemed drunk. Too much. He’d been drinking too much. He liked to do that.
“Get off my porch.”
Quinn laughed. “Jesus. That’s a classic line, isn’t it?”
“Quinn—”
“You’ll be alone,” he reminded, voice as sharp as his teeth.
Darlin refused to flinch, but he saw it in their eyes. He knew where all their wounds were.
“Leave Dahlia with me,” he said.
That was a first. They squinted, trying to figure out what he was up to now. They’d expected him to want them to let him into the house, to pitch a violent fit about being locked out with wards, maybe even try to figure out who taught them to do that, but they had not expected him to suggest they run away together.
“Are you really drunk?” Darlin asked, knowing full well that he couldn’t be. Unless…Was his blood supply tainted? Was that a thing?
Quinn laughed and pushed off their door, taking two elegant steps off the porch and toward them. They weren’t fool enough to think they could run around him for the door and get inside before he had hands on them. No. Darlin had never run from Quinn before and they weren’t going to start now. “Everyone leaves you, Misfit. So, leave them first,” he whispered, so close now.
“That’s not true.”
The silver in his eyes shimmered with moonlight. “Your parents—”
“Were assholes…”
“David.”
“He hasn’t left me, he just has a life and so do I.”
Quinn stared back at them, relentless. “Gabe.”
Darlin flashed teeth. “He never left me.”
“Then where is he, Misfit?”
Darlin growled low, palm slapping their chest over their heart. “Right fucking here,” they snapped, blood singing and teeth growing. “And I told you what would happen if you talked about them, Quinn.”
His hand shot out, grabbing at their throat like he could physically keep them from shifting.
The fight was short and ugly. Darlin shifting back and forth between blows and bites. Darlin could usually hold their own against Quinn, not necessarily win, but at least take him down with them. But tonight he was all over the place. He’d definitely fed recently, and a lot. It made him faster but also more reckless. They were both bleeding on the lawn by the time they shoved apart from one another.
He laughed darkly, mouth bright red in the moonlight. “You’ve made a cliché out of us, Misfit! A vampire and a werewolf fighting…”
“Then stop fucking coming to my house,” they spat his blood on the grass.
He seemed to consider it for a second, running his eyes over them before shaking his head. “No. You’re mine, mutt. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”
Darlin growled. “What part of this seems like I want you, Quinn?”
He grinned, taking a step toward them and then another. “You didn’t howl for your pack. You’ve never howled for them when we fight.”
Darlin stared, realizing that was true. But it didn’t mean anything. Did it? No. They just didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. It was embarrassing and entirely their own problem.
“We belong together,” Quinn practically purred, the cuts on his face from their teeth already healing. He always healed fast. Maybe that was why he didn’t think it mattered when he tore skin? Maybe that was why he thought bruises and scars were so fascinating?
“You’re never alone with me and I’ll never make you pretend to be anyone but who you are, my broken little misfit.” He reached out slowly, gently, and Darlin growled but didn’t move when he touched their cheek. They turned their head away but let his touch run down their neck, over his scars, to the fresh cut he’d just made on their shoulder during their fight. His teeth had caught and dragged, slicing skin. He pushed at the wound and they growled warning but didn’t move. Why didn’t they move? Fuck. Fuck them. And fuck him!
They looked down and away, his hand on their hip, moving up under their shirt. His breath puffed over their neck and that fresh gash, his tongue soon sliding over skin. It shouldn’t be comforting, but it was. People either steered clear of Darlin in fear or disgust, or they were careful because they knew the rumors about those scars and their relationship to the Shaws.
Shaws.
They remembered how Quinn had spat David’s name, and how he’d tried to use Gabe’s against them. They’d warned him about that.
They moved without warning, slamming an elbow into Quinn’s chest to shove him back before turning into him and breaking a knuckle against his face. He fell to the side, one hand in the grass to keep his knees from going down. He hissed, blood dribbling from his mouth to the lawn.
Darlin grinned, just as bloody, and took a step back, and then another. It was always good to have room to react. He should have remembered that.
His eyes were huge when he looked at them again, shock and fury like a living thing that had only been waiting inside him.
Darlin wondered if tonight would be the night he finished this dance. They shifted, baring teeth in a final warning to leave.
Quinn straightened, spitting more blood while his busted lip healed fast. “I will never give you up,” he said, and it was nothing short of a threat.
He took a step, one step, toward them and Darlin did something they had never done.
They tipped their head high and howled.
They expected him to attack when they did, to go for their throat or grab their jaws and clamp them shut, but he didn’t.
The silence felt thick when the sound ended and they just stared at each other.
Quinn didn’t move, lip twisting in the start of a smile when the silence stretched. He was about to speak, to taunt, when a howl answered Darlin’s in the night. Asher.
Darlin shifted human and watched the almost-smile on Quinn’s mouth twist into a snarl. He took a step back. “You can pretend to be a good dog, go to classes and behave, but we both know you’re lying. You’re just as dead as I am.” Another step back and then he was gone, a blur of shadows and then nothing.
Asher bound up the dark street from the direction of the park a minute later. He growled low, probably scenting the vampire and the bloodshed. He shifted human when he hit Darlin’s driveway, walking straight for them. All the humor and light-heartedness that was so signature for Asher was gone, replaced by hard worry and anger.
Darlin looked away, suddenly more embarrassed than in pain. He’d actually come running. Why had they never howled before? Was Quinn, right? Had they wanted it? “Sorry, false alarm,” they muttered, crouching down and patting eh wet grass.
“It doesn’t look like a false alarm,” Asher pointed out, voice low. He came closer, hovering. “Quinn?”
Darlin sighed and nodded once, biting back a wince at how that gesture tugged at the cuts on their shoulder. “I handled it.” Darlin finally felt something hard and blood slick in the grass and picked it up. When they stood up, Asher was still there, waiting and staring back at them. “I handled it,” they said again, annoyed now. “I’m sorry I made you run—”
Asher groaned, loud and dramatic. “Don’t apologize. You’re the one all messed up. You can always call out.”
“What happened?” Milo demanded, stepping out of the dark and crossing the lawn.
He was such a stealthy shit, Darlin almost jumped. “Oh what the fuck, is everyone going to show up?”
Asher laughed, picking up Darlin’s bag off the ground. They’d definitely rolled over it in the fight. Hopefully they hadn’t gotten any blood on their textbooks.
Darlin started toward the house, digging keys out of their pocket and hissing at the pain that effort flared through their shoulder.
“We need to go to a healer,” Asher said, following them.
Milo was on his heels, not even surprised they hadn’t answered him.
“No, we don’t. I have super glue and bandages,” Darlin pushed the door open and walked in, the other two on their heels.
“I’ll call my mom.” “Don’t call your mom,” Darlin said at the same time as Milo.
Asher laughed, putting the bloody bag on the floor.
Darlin walked into the kitchen and turned on the faucet, rinsing off their hands. Their knuckle was swelling and pain shot through their hand when they moved the fingers. They used the other to rub the tooth they’d pulled from the grass clean. It was another fang.
“What is…” Milo started to ask and then stopped.
Darlin tensed, expecting disgust or more questions, but when they looked over their shoulder at him, the other wolf was trying really hard not to grin. “At least now you have a matching pair…” he remarked, and then he noticed their busted hand. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He pulled out his phone.
Darlin rolled their eyes, walking into the living room to toss the fang into the bottle cap tray with the other. “Don’t bother Marie. If it’s worse tomorrow I’ll go to the healer on campus.”
Asher snorted, already sitting in the big comfy chair and watching the scene like he had no part in this.
“Oh, I’m not bothering Marie,” Milo assured with an edge of snark that meant this had to be bad. Someone answered the other end of his call and his voice softened. “Hey, Sweetheart, are you off work?”
Asher laughed.
Darlin whined and sat down on the couch. “Come on! It hurt less to break the bone that to let them fix it!”
Milo shot Darlin a hard look that screamed, “You’ll be grateful, you shit!”
Asher continued to laugh, taking out his phone too.
“And who are you calling?” Darlin was pouting now—they could hear it in their own voice.
Asher continued to grin, hooking his boots on the edge of the coffee table. “Pizza.”
Darlin rolled their eyes but sank deeper into the couch. It was strange to have people around after a run in with Quinn. Their whole body hurt but somehow this wasn’t bad. Embarrassing, yes, but not bad.
“And then I’ll call David,” Asher tacked on just before the pizza guy answered and he started placing what sounded like an absurdly large order for just a handful of people.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Darlin whined, closing their eyes. There was no point in trying to talk these two out of telling David, and they couldn’t exactly run away from their own house. But, if they were being honest with themselves, they weren’t sure they wanted to get away from this.
#scars that remind#darlin&david#pack feels#shaw pack#slight AU#blood violence manipulation aka the Quinn experience#Darlin is really trying people#bad relationship#toxic as fuck#redacted asmr#redactedverse#dominimoonbeam#if you made it this far into the tags i'll give you a spoiler...#there's a romantic interest in the next chapter...#<3
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#zootopia#judy hopps#wildehopps#zootropolis#nick wilde#zootopia meme#nickxjudy#nick and judy#breakup#bad relationship
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I will not use my energy where it is wasted.
I thought we had a connection, I swear I could taste it.
You matched my energy, and I matched yours.
But soon your flame burned out, and mine was torn.
Torn between what if’s, why’s, and how’s.
Why did our flames burn so bright, then extinguish it’s self out?
What if I used just a little more energy to shine brighter for you, would that by chance change your doubt?
But how can I go back into that same path.
Where I give more energy, then what’s given back.
#bad poetry#bad poem#young poets#poetry#heartbreak#energy#connection#energy matching#trauma#bad relationship
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My opinion
People say the reason that I hate Jily is because I ship Jegulus which is not true. I dont ship it because in my heart she is a lesbian that is what i believe. Lily was always different Petunia hated her and called her a freak her own sister who she loved her parents did not understand her and at school she was called a mudblood and bullied because of it. Everyone was expecting her to date James Potter but she spent 7 years rejecting him not because he bullied snape although it might be part of something but because she was lesbian and she already had a lot of people who hated her. Her one long time friend stabbed her in the back while she was trying to help him and called her a mudblood. So I think she married James because she knew that he would stay unlike everyone else in her life
#lesbian lily#anti snape#jegulus#marylily#pandalily#sad#mudblood#cruel#bullying#bad relationship#help#stay#opinion#lily lover#narcissa/lily#all girls times lily
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Me: “Hm, that person looks nice.”
Brain: “You misogynistic fucking freak. Stop objectifying people. Whore. Let attraction develop naturally. Stop being so fucking disgusting. You don’t even know that persons age. They could be one year younger than you. That’s fucking disgusting, pedophile. You’re just letting your romantic thirst desire for the nearest person to throw themselves onto you, idiot. That’s not real life, delusional freak. You’re just making up feelings, idiot. Or you’re too stupid to separate types of attractions or emotions. Stop feeling like this or you’re a horrible person.”
Me, later: “Huh, wonder why I don’t feel crushes.”
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my heart is hurting
in all of its caverns
and when i pour it all out for you
vulnerability glistening on every edge
all you can say is
“so sorry”
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Listening and Not
I woke the moment you leaned. You listened. That’s what you said. You knew I was lost and found something in that. You had been where I had. Mine was yours. And then it was gone.
You didn’t understand that my state of rest is the argumentative. That brings me peace, not being right or wrong, but that you only have to argue a little bit harder to be heard.
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#alone#bad relationship#being misunderstood#Buying the past#lost & missing#missing friends#writing process
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whenever right wing people talk about “parental rights” they are talking about property rights. they are arguing for further political and legal enshrinement of their children as their literal actual property
#I also wonder if this is like a middle class expression of a desire to shore up other property rights eg homeownership#like homeownership is a foundation base for the nuclear family. property rights allow you to own the resource#that produces the family and allows it to be ‘private’#so like children are another frontier of this property relationship#anyway. bad time to be a trans person lol#& all the actual legitimate issues w/ parental rights ie indigenous genocide forced sterilisation mass incarceration the foster system etc#are not even remotely concerns for these people because well. they’re fash lol
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for the redacted prompts 'there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you' with Darlin & Quinn
Thank you!!
Oh, darling Anon, I don't know if this was what you were hoping for but this is what happened. I hope you like it!
tw: Quinn. bad relationship. QUINN. blood and injury.
-
“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
The first time he said it, it made their heart beat faster. It made them feel important. No one had ever said anything like that to them before. It sounded like love.
They were barely more than a kid. Their parents had skipped town and they had nowhere to be—no one to go home to. They’d never been close with the pack.
They’d met Quinn and for a moment life had been better. They weren’t alone. They weren’t an outsider. Life was easy for Quinn and at first, like was easy with him too. They were safe. They were never without a roof or food. They were never without a friend.
Quinn liked having them at his side. They were a pair. A team.
They were in a blood club one night, shoulder to shoulder on a couch, when he said it. It came out of nowhere, said a little blood drunk and a little wistful. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, misfit.”
Darlin had laughed to hide the way their heart jumped in their chest, but Quinn smirked like he heard it and took another drink from his glass.
-
The second time he said it, they heard the edge in his voice more clearly.
Some of Quinn’s enemies had jumped Darlin. The fight had been ugly. Darlin didn’t go down easily and when Quinn got there, he’d almost killed someone. He’d picked Darlin up off the pavement with a smirk, enemies still screaming in pain behind them. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you,” he said.
Darlin realized that promise could be dangerous but just then it didn’t matter. Just then they felt good to have someone that cared, someone that didn’t leave them hanging.
-
The third time he said it, he had their blood on his lips and their hair clenched in his fist. Their skin was on fire. His teeth had torn through their shoulder before clamping down on their neck. He bit again and again, groaning against their skin.
It wasn’t the first time they’d fought. It wasn’t the first time he’d bit them. But it was worse than before. Darlin had tried to leave this time. Their head was so light from the blood loss that they couldn’t stand. They couldn’t shift. He held on to them, their skin cold everywhere but where his teeth ripped them apart. “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you,” he whispered, hands bruising in their grip and arms like shackles around their chest.
-
The last time he said it, they knew he didn’t mean it. Not really. Because the only thing they wanted him to do for them was the only thing he refused to do—and that was stop. Stop touching them. Stop hurting them. Stop hurting others.
“You might as well ask me to die,” he spat.
Darlin stared at him, waiting.
Offense and outrage rippled across his features before he could hide it. “After everything I did for you, misfit…” he ground out. The stretch of rain-wet street between them wasn’t enough for either to be safe. If he ran, Darlin would chase. If Darlin blinked, he would end them. “You betrayed me. You did this to us.”
Darlin waited, shoulders loose and focus honed. They had loved him once. He had been their only family for a time.
“You don’t stand a chance,” he warned and Darlin wondered if it was mercy or fear in his voice. Both were so rare that they sounded the same. “You’re a fucking child compared to me.”
Darlin smiled then, flashing teeth of their own. “Maybe you should have considered that when you picked me up all those years ago, old man.”
Quinn bristled at the name and their tone. He moved first, just like Darlin had known he would.
He rushed forward to close the distance and Darlin shifted just before he did, snapping teeth into his skin. Again and again. He healed fast at first but the longer the fight went on, the more blood he lost, the slower the healing became. They both broke bones. They both shed blood.
When it was done, they were both half-dead on the pavement. Darlin wanted to sleep but they didn’t dare to close their eyes. They crawled to him on human hands and knees and when he tried to get away, they hugged him to their chest. They wrapped their arms and legs around him, their hand in his blood wet hair and their mouth to his temple. He snapped teeth at their neck but couldn’t quite get the angle.
“There was nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” Darlin whispered with his cruel conviction. Nothing they wouldn’t do to please him in the beginning. Nothing they wouldn’t do to stay with him when it had started to sour. And nothing they wouldn’t do to end him now that they saw the truth.
The sun rose and Darlin didn’t let go.
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Text
Realizing you weren’t home
Realizing you weren’t home was hard
That it was just that you convinced me
but then I realized that you are closer to home then I could ever imagine
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