#so instead of getting right to it and slamming back into a brick wall i am PLANNING first

[swe3theart-succubus]

community service- rafe cameron smau

Pt. 8

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

the knock wasn’t gentle. it wasn’t even really a knock.

it was more of a pound, followed by the unmistakable screech of your front door being kicked open like this was a sting operation.

“YOU KNOW WHAT—”

you nearly jumped off the couch, almost dropping your phone as jj maybank, soaking wet and dramatic as hell, stormed into your living room like he wasn’t tracking rain all over your rug.

“first of all,” he huffed, slamming the door shut behind him, hair dripping, chest heaving like he’d just crossed a battlefield. “what the fuck was that little group chat assassination you pulled, huh? that was insane. that was psychotic. that was below the belt. that was—”

he paused, held up a finger, and fished something out of his hoodie pocket.

a blunt.

“—also, passable if you hit this first,” he muttered, lighting it like this was an everyday weather pattern and not an actual flood warning. he took a drag, then started pacing and rambling. “i came through the flood for this. you missed love island night. there’s a debriefing protocol. and you violated it."

“you walked here,” you start, dragging your eyes from the bottom of his dripping waders to the too-small rain jacket he definitely stole from kie. “during a literal hurricane.”

“uh, yeah,” he replies like it’s obvious, eyes narrowed. “because somebody decided to go full rom-com in a rec center instead of watching THEE fucking stallion. and you disrespected me in the group chat.”

you stare at him. rain dripping from his hair, the cherry of the blunt lighting up his dirty fingernails.

"jj—”

“NO. you don’t get to ‘jj’ me like this is normal. like you didn’t just confess to borderline treason.”

“you are so dramatic.”

“i am the correct amount of dramatic,” he insists, waving the blunt like a gavel. “you almost kissed rafe cameron. that’s like—like trying to make out with a brick wall.”

“jj.”

“he’s emotionally constipated, baby girl! you’re gonna end up writing sad poems in your notes app and pretending to like golf!”

you sigh. loud. dragging a blanket over your legs as you make room on the couch—because obviously he’s not leaving.

he frowns. sighs dramatically. and then peels off his waders, letting them fall to a soggy heap before flopping down beside you.

“it wasn’t like that,” you mutter, pulling the blanket up to your chin as he immediately invades your personal space like a damp, judgmental cat.

“mmhm,” jj hums, eyes closed, head tilted back against the couch like he’s praying for strength. “you just accidentally got soft for the island’s most emotionally unavailable trust fund.”

you groan. “jj—”

“don’t jj me.” he takes another hit and passes it without opening his eyes. “you almost kissed him.”

you take it. inhale. slow. “i didn’t though.”

“but you wanted to.”

you pause. exhale. “…maybe.”

“jesus christ,” he whispers. “i should’ve known when you started defending him. or when you let him wear the sticker crown. or when you told pope he was ‘actually kind of helpful’ last week.”

you glare. “i was trying to be nice!”

he scoffs. “you don’t even say that shit about me.”

you nudge him with your foot. “because you’re not helpful.”

“i bring you snacks.”

“you eat them before i get there.”

he waves that off. “semantics.”

you both sit in silence for a moment. the storm outside has finally quieted—reduced to a soft drizzle that taps gently at the windows, like it’s listening too.

jj leans his head on your shoulder. it’s warm. heavy. familiar.

“…you gonna see him again?” he asks eventually. voice low. not teasing anymore.

you blink at the TV screen, even though it's off. “i work with him. kind of hard to avoid.”

he hums. “but like. see him.”

you don’t answer right away. your eyes flick toward the sweatshirt still sitting crumpled on the end of the couch. the one you definitely could’ve left in his truck. the one that still smells like citrus and danger and boyish regret.

“…i don’t know,” you admit quietly.

jj doesn’t say anything. just sits there. lets you lean into him.

until, of course—

“if you start listening to sad music again, i’m changing your spotify password.”

you snort, tilting your head just enough to bump into his. “you don’t even know my spotify password.”

“no,” he says, smug, “but kie does. and she’s mad enough at you to help me.”

you laugh. actually laugh. and he grins, sharp and proud like he won something.

“seriously, though,” he murmurs after a second. “you good?”

you blink. glance down at your hands. then back at the sweatshirt on the couch.

“…i’m confused,” you say finally.

he nods, thoughtful. “you wanna make out with the emotionally unavailable glitter janitor. yeah. i’d be confused too.”

you elbow him, but it’s soft. tired. fond. “shut up.”

“hey, no judgment. i’ve hooked up with worse. remember that girl with the broken tooth who wanted to read my tarot cards mid-hookup?”

you groan. “don’t bring her up again.”

“i’m just saying,” he says, shifting to face you, “i get it. bad decisions are hot. just… don’t let it be one of those bad decisions that sticks, you know?”

you look at him. he’s not grinning anymore. just watching you. soft and serious and loyal in a way he’d never admit out loud.

you nod. “yeah. okay.”

he bumps your shoulder once. then again.

“…he is kinda hot though,” he adds, teasing back in full force. “for someone who probably thinks therapy is for poor people.”

“jj.”

“i’m just saying!” he throws his hands up. "every time he kicks my ass, i definitely look at his arms."

you stare at him.

he shrugs. “they flex when he throws. it’s hypnotic.”

“so you’re saying… you’d hit?”

“no,” he scoffs. “i’d let him hit. there's a difference.”

you blink. “i don’t even know how to respond to that.”

he shrugs again, grabbing a chip from the open bag and crunching like this is a normal Tuesday.

“you don’t have to,” he says through a mouthful. “i’m comfortable with who i am.”

you laugh softly. “comfortable with your homoerotic fight club fantasies?”

“hey,” he says, pointing a chip at you. “some of us process conflict through grappling and confusing emotions.”

you roll your eyes and settle back into the couch, finally feeling the weight of the day start to settle. your legs stretch across jj’s lap like muscle memory—like all the nights he’s shown up unannounced, soaked, scraped, pissed off, and still your favorite person.

he adjusts like it’s normal. like your knees belong tucked under his arm. one hand absently rubbing your shin, the other navigating the TV remote.

"lock in. the girls shake ass in this episode."

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a while later, the snacks are long gone, the blanket is mostly on jj now, and the screen's dim light casts both of you in the same pale glow. your phone buzzes once—face-down on the coffee table—but you don’t move to check it.

jj glances at you sideways. “wanna talk about it?”

you hesitate.

“…i think part of me wanted him to kiss me.”

jj doesn’t flinch. doesn’t make a sound. just keeps watching the TV.

you shift. “not like, actively. but if he had…”

you trail off.

he nods, just once. slow. “you were curious.”

“i was stupid,” you correct.

he hums again. thoughtful. “sometimes that’s the same thing.”

you both go quiet.

“but,” jj adds, after a moment, “if he ever does kiss you?”

you glance at him.

“i better be the second fucking person you tell. right after your diary.”

you laugh. full-body. the kind that shakes your shoulders and steals your breath.

he grins too. pleased with himself. pleased with you. pleased that you’re still his, even a little.

you settle back into the couch, head tipping against his shoulder.

outside, the rain’s little more than a whisper now. inside, the air smells like chips and smoke and the sweatshirt still draped across the armrest.

jj shifts slightly, pulling the blanket higher over both of you. his thumb still absently brushing your leg like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

you stare at the screen, but your thoughts are somewhere else. stuck somewhere between storm-slick pavement and the look in rafe’s eyes when he said he wouldn’t stop you.

you’re not cold. not anymore. but you shiver anyway.

jj notices. doesn’t comment. just tugs you closer.

“i’d kill him, you know.”

you glance over.

“rafe,” he clarifies, voice soft, like it’s not a big deal. “if he ever hurts you.”

your lips twitch. “bit extreme.”

he shrugs. “nah. we're overdue for a fight.”

you hum. half-asleep now. mind slowing. body heavy.

on-screen, someone shouts about betrayal. jj mutes it. you barely notice.

he leans his head against yours. lets the quiet stretch.

“you don’t have to figure it out tonight,” he says finally. “just don’t lie to yourself about what you want.”

you don’t answer. but he knows you heard him.

you stay there like that, long after the episode ends, wrapped in smoke and leftover feelings and the kind of comfort that only comes from someone who’s seen you break before—and helped sweep up the pieces.

the TV asks if you’re still watching.

you’re not.

you should probably get up. move. wash your face. make jj leave.

instead, you say, “you staying here?”

he yawns. “obviously.”

you don’t argue.

he shifts to lie down, pulling you with him like it’s second nature. like it's something that used to happen every other night when the world was heavier on his shoulders than usual. your head slots beneath his chin, his hand slides under the blanket to rest at your waist.

“i’m gonna drool on you,” you mumble.

“if i cared about that, i wouldn’t be friends with pope,” he replies sleepily.

you smile. eyes slipping shut.

it doesn’t take long for both of you to drift—breathing synced, bodies warm, the storm outside finally silent.

your phone buzzes again on the table. once. then twice.

neither of you moves.

the sweatshirt stays where it is, still smelling like citrus and regret and something not quite finished.

and in the morning, you’ll pretend it doesn’t mean anything when you fold it up and tuck it into your bag.

you’ll pretend you don’t think about how rafe looked at you like he could see right through the bullshit.

you’ll pretend you don’t want to find out what it feels like when he finally stops holding back.

but for now,

you sleep.

[lettuce-tv]

btw naniteheads: i am working on it again

[rin-may-1103]

Perks of Being Half Dead

(supernatural x DP) I- uh, needed a break from the DC crossovers. (There is no canon, only fanon.) Master Post | Next

Cursing, Danny dove to the side just in time to dodge an ecto blast, his father's angry shout ringing loudly out into the dark night.

"get back here you damned spook!"

"Give back our son!" Mom shouted, a smattering of blasts cracking down around his temporary hiding spot.

This wasn't working, nothing was working. Cursing himself again, Danny rolled and pushed off the ground, darting down the alleyway as fast as he could. He ignored the sharp pain from his chest, ignored the green and red starting to soak through his shirt.

"Get back here!" his parents shouted, green blasts flashing past Danny's head, too close for comfort.

Blindly pulling out his phone, Danny dialed the only number he knew by heart, "pick up, pick up, pick up!"

a click, then an inhale of breath, "dan-"

"Open the door!" Danny pleaded, cutting off Jazz. "Please, I need a clear path back down into the basement! I can't leave town!"

"fuck," jazz cursed, "i'm tossing in your go bag."

"Good," Danny huffed, pushing off the brick wall and to the side just in time to avoid a nasty explosion. He was silent for a moment, letting the sound of his sister's movement distract him as he ran.

"I don't think I can come back after this," Danny admitted.

Jazz's breath hitched, her movement only pausing for a moment.

"They're never going to accept me, Jazz."

"I-" Jazz hesitated

"They cut me open, jazzy. They broke my ribs and cut me open," Danny cried, ducking when he noticed shots heading right for him in a car's reflective window. He didn't even register the pain at this point, too full of adrenaline and spite.

"I can't come back," he whispered, holding his breath to stop himself from sobbing. He turned down another road, his parents still too close for comfort, but getting farther behind.

"ok," Jazz whispered, sniffing, before continuing with her voice steeled, "ok. front doors open, I'll get the portal open next. After I pack your bags."

"Don't look," Danny pleaded, ducking into another alleyway, his parents' voices growing distant. "Don't look in the back."

Jazz was silent for a moment, the only sound being zippers and the crinkling of plastic. "I won't," she promised, "I-I'll shut it down. Pull the plug. I won't let them go after you, Danny."

"Thank you," Danny cried, gasping on a sob he couldn't hold back.

Jazz hung up, leaving Danny to shove his phone back into his pocket and focus on running for his life.

It took fifteen minutes until he could see his house.

Pushing his body even more, Danny bolted up the stairs and through the kitchen. Slamming into the wall next to the door, Danny gasped for breath. The pain was starting to become too much, the black closing in around the edges of his eyes.

"Danny!" Jazz called from downstairs, her voice full of panic. mumbling curses, Danny tilted forward and tried to step onto the stairs. Instead, his body lost its balance and he was sent tumbling down, landing in a heap of limbs on the floor.

"shit," jazz cursed, landing on the ground next to danny and pushing him so he was lying on his back.

"Hey, hey, look at me, look at me," she cried, drawing his fading attention up and over to her. Her red hair was messy, her teal headband nowhere in sight.

"Your bags are already through, so are most of their blueprints and extra weapons. I'm pulling the plug as soon as you're through, ok, you just need to get up," her hands hovered over his chest, eyes filling with tears when she couldn't find a safe spot to touch him.

Taking a deep breath, Danny pushed himself up and reached for her. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. "I'm here," she whispered, "I'm here, Danny. I've got you, ok? I've got you."

"Jazzy," Danny cried, bonelessly collapsing onto her. "I can't-" he sobbed, he couldn't feel his legs, and his head hurt, and he just couldn't do it anymore. She didn't falter under his (concerningly light) weight; she just scooped him up and started making her way to the portal.

"It's ok," she cried back, burying her face into his hair, "it's ok."

A loud screech echoed from above them, the familiar slam of car doors telling them their time was up.

"I love you, Danny," Jazz promised, "I'll always love you, ok?"

"I love you too, Jazzy," Danny murmured, pushing his head a little more firmly against her chest.

Jazz gave him one last kiss before leaning forward and pushing him through the portal. The moment he was weightlessly floating without her help, she backed up and closed the portal doors.

Danny watched her turn away from him, her back straight in anger as she marched over to the wall.

Danny closed his eyes, too tired to fight against unconsciousness any longer. She promised she'd take care of it, and she always kept her promises.

~

Clockwork watched from his tower as the Fenton portal wavered and then shattered, disappearing from existence like it'd never been there in the first place.

Phantom's body floated aimlessly through the ectoplasmic sky, his ring and crown slowly fading into visibility.

Humming, clockwork turned and studied the mirror next to him, two men argued back and forth, while a third sat patiently in the back, watching with curiosity as the first man pointed at something on his map.

Turning back, Clockwork studied the young king.

He didn't have long to ponder if he should do this or not; the observants could only be distracted for so long, but he weighed his options anyway.

Yes, he mused, this would be for the best.

Turning from his window, Clockwork set to work.

He had a few favors he could use.

Next

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Various jjba characters x reader in: “Catch me!”

Prompt: you shouted at them to catch you and quickly leapt into their arms, how did it go?

Characters: DIO, Rohan Kishibe, Bruno Bucciarati, Guido Mista, Leone Abbacchio, Diavolo, Diego Brando

DIO: It’s like jumping into a brick wall honestly…you’re not sure why you thought jumping into his back was a good idea…for some reason you thought he would turn around from his shelves for you. He did not. You end up just slamming into his back, quite hard. Honestly it hurts a bit-

“Are you feeling bored?” he talks with that usual teasing condescension, clearly uninterested in whatever you’re up to. You hear the turning of a page. He’s not gonna indulge you at ALL on this one apparently…how embarrassing…

You hold onto his back for a moment while you recover from the daze you just put yourself into before gently sliding off of him and rubbing your poor cheek.

Rohan Kishibe: You didn’t give him any time to get ready. All you hear is him shout to hold on a second but it’s too late, you’ve already committed-

Yeahhh it’s not that he Can’t catch you but he needs a bit more of a heads up! You both go down in a loud, screaming pile with an ungraceful THUMP.

He’s so mad at you. Sure you’re in the comfort of your own home pulling a stunt like that but that’s still HUMILIATING. You get Quite the earful from him. He avoids using heaven’s door on you because you hate it when he does that, but this time he makes an exception. New rule: You cannot leap into Rohan Kishibe’s arms without at least a ten second warning.

Bruno Bucciarati: “Hm? Wait hold on I-!” well…there goes the glass he was holding. He opted to catch you instead of holding onto his drink. He’s a bit annoyed at you for tackling him while he’s got something in his hands, but you’re so cute nestling your head under his chin while you cling to him, he can only be upset at you for so long.

But don’t do that again when he’s holding something, please. At least let him put it down-he doesn’t mind catching you even in a more public setting but give him at least a bit of warning next time-

Guido Mista: The Bullets are actually useful for once, shouting “INCOMING!!!” at him when you rush at him to leap into his arms.

Still a little surprising for him, but he catches you, stumbles just a bit, and turns it into one of those catches where he spins the two of you around.

He thinks it’s so cute that you’d just leap into his arms like that, he’s not opposed at all and it’s even better if you do it in front of the others because then it looks like he’s got mad game. Even if the two of you end up falling it’s okay-

Leone Abbacchio: You imagine pulling anything like that on Abbacchio while you’re in public will result in him IMMEDIATELY breaking up with you. So you wait until you’re somewhere more private before trying it.

Unsurprisingly he is NOT a fan of you suddenly jumping onto him and clinging to him like you were made of Velcro. He doesn’t fall over or even really stumble, but he’s Not gonna indulge this by holding onto you.

“I don’t know what dumb game you’re playing now, but cut it out,” he grumbles while he pries you off of him.

Sheesh. Grumpy.

Diavolo: He’s so MEAN! He really used King Crimson on you! You end up landing past him and on your stomach when you tried to jump into his arms.

“Don’t do that.”

Oof, he is Very annoyed at you. And he doesn’t get over it easily despite how much he’s containing his anger over it right now.

He makes a point of keeping you at arm’s length and sending you a warning glare if you try to wander too close. He’s an expert at holding a grudge, too. He keeps it up for a WHILE.

Diego Brando: He could tell what you’re planning, so right before you reach him, he suddenly ducks and then uses your momentum against you by flipping you over his back. He uses enough force so you actually land on your feet, unharmed. Woah. What a damn show-off-

It’s useless to try and surprise him! Doesn’t matter if you were just being affectionate, he’s not gonna let you cling to him unless he Wants you to cling to him.

-

Ok this one was fun I might do more of these.

[raekensluver]

Hi! Can you please write something about George and his girlfriend getting into a huge argument ( over what I have no idea🤣) but George gets really mean, they give each other the silent treatment for a while ( not months like a couple of days) then George apologises.

🤣🤣 I hope this makes sense

contains: angst/comfort, established relationship, arguing

george clarke x fem!reader

it had been one of those days. a day that started off with small annoyances and ended in a heated argument neither of you had expected.

it wasn’t even something that should’ve been a big deal. at least, that’s what you told yourself as you stared at the closed door to george’s room. he was still in there, and you were sitting on the couch, arms crossed tightly over your chest, feeling the weight of the words you’d thrown at each other.

it had all started with something stupid. maybe it was the fact that you had asked him to help with something—something you thought was simple enough—but he hadn’t even looked up from his computer. or maybe it was the way he had brushed off your feelings when you were venting about something that had been bothering you. either way, it had spiraled.

you had tried to explain, tried to tell him how his actions were affecting you, but instead of hearing you out, george had gotten defensive. his tone had sharpened, and before you knew it, you were both yelling.

"i don’t get why you’re so mad," george had said, his voice rising. "it’s not like i didn’t hear you."

"that’s not the point!" you had snapped back, your own frustration bubbling over. "i’m just asking you to be there for me, george. that’s all."

and that’s when things had gone too far. george had said something that had stung deep—something that cut right through the thin layers of patience you had left.

"well, maybe if you weren’t always nagging me, i’d actually have time to do things!" he’d yelled, a bitter edge to his words.

those words had hit hard, far harder than he could’ve realized in the heat of the moment. your eyes had filled with tears, but you refused to let him see. you stormed out, slamming the door behind you. and that was it. the silent treatment began.

for the next couple of days, neither of you spoke. george spent most of his time in his room, streaming or working on something—anything to avoid the tension in the air. you busied yourself with distractions, trying to find some way to get the words you wanted to say out without fighting. but there was something blocking you—something that felt like a brick wall between the two of you.

you missed him, and you hated the distance that had suddenly settled in. but you were stubborn. you weren’t the one who had started this mess, after all.

finally, it was george who broke the silence.

it was late one night, when you were curled up on the couch with a blanket, scrolling through your phone, trying to ignore the emptiness in the apartment. the door to the living room creaked open, and you looked up to see george standing there, his usual easygoing expression replaced by something more vulnerable.

“hey,” he started softly, almost hesitantly. “can we talk?”

you didn’t say anything immediately, unsure of what to say. you had been waiting for this moment, but now that it was here, the words seemed to stick in your throat.

“look,” he continued, stepping further into the room, “i’m sorry. i was a dick the other day. i shouldn’t have said what i did. i was frustrated, but that’s no excuse.”

you met his eyes, and for the first time in days, there was a softness in his gaze that made your heart ache.

“i never meant to hurt you,” he added, his voice quiet. “i’m sorry.”

you swallowed hard, the emotions you’d been holding back threatening to spill over. you had missed him so much, but that hurt was still there, lingering. “you really hurt me, george,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t get how much those words stung.”

he nodded, his expression regretful. “i know. and i wish i could take it back. i didn’t mean for it to go that far, but i should’ve known better. i should’ve listened to you. i’m sorry.”

you sighed, letting the silence stretch between you for a moment. part of you wanted to hold onto your anger, to keep the wall up. but another part of you—your heart—just wanted him back. you wanted to feel close to him again, to feel like you mattered to him the way you always had.

“it’s gonna take some time for me to get over it,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his again. “but i’m willing to try.”

george stepped forward, kneeling in front of you so that he was eye-level with you. he reached for your hand gently, his touch warm against your cool skin. “i’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised, his voice full of sincerity.

you nodded, your heart finally starting to soften. “okay,” you whispered. “but we need to communicate better, george. i need you to listen to me, really listen.”

he smiled, a small but genuine smile, and nodded. “i will. i swear. i’ll do better.”

you gave a small sigh, feeling the weight of the last few days start to lift off your shoulders. you weren’t fully healed yet, but you could feel the cracks starting to form. you didn’t know what the future held, but you knew that, together, you’d figure it out.

“i love you,” george said quietly, squeezing your hand. “i’m so sorry for everything.”

“i love you too,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “just… don’t forget how much i care, okay?”

“i won’t,” he promised, leaning in to kiss your forehead softly. “i won’t forget.”

and just like that, the tension started to fade, and the space between you two began to close. it wouldn’t be easy, but it was a start. and sometimes, that’s all you needed to find your way back to each other.

[measuredingold]

you right

authors note: hello hello ! two weekends in a row ? i am on fire lol I’ve been working on this piece for awhile and finally got around to finishing it. inspired loosely by you right by doja cat. feedback is always appreciated and i hope you all enjoy !

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross posted on ao3

word count: 2.3k

cw/tw: infidelity, p in v ( be like them and wear protection! ), slight…angst?, noah sebastian is bad at feelings, slight hurt ig?, situationship lol, toxic relationship, 18+ mdni

Your breath hitches when Noah's hand runs up the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up against his hip. His lips brush over yours to muffle the noise you make when his hip rolls into yours, pressing you flush against the wall.

"Shit." He groans, pulling back to drop his head down to your chest, lips attaching to your exposed skin.

Your shirt was lost about five minutes ago, along with your bra, and your skirt was now bunched up around your waist. You knew it was a sight to see, Noah attached to you with your head thrown back against the wall, his lips wrapping around your hardening bud. Your hand moves to his hair, fingers twisting in his dark locks and tugging ever so slightly, and the vibration of his moan against your skin has your back arching.

The disappointment that was settling in your stomach was still there, fading, but still there nonetheless. You should be disgusted, ashamed for letting yourself get into this situation again but you're not surprised anymore. Noah was an enigma, pulling you to him whenever he could even if you tried to fight it. You couldn’t help that you wanted him, could never get enough of him. Constantly always craving to feel his lips against yours, to feel his hands caress your body, to feel his hips pressed flush against yours.

He was something you always wanted, needed, and you don't think you'll ever get tired of it soon.

Which you should. It'll never go further than this. Sex. That's all it is, all it'll ever be. Two people too stubborn to address their feelings for one another, instead hide it with casual sex. It's sad, and borderline pathetic, but that's how it's always been with him.

And how it always will be.

You thought you got over it. You met someone a few months ago, had a nice thing going. They were nice and treated you well. You thought the hold Noah had on you was finally over, you've moved on. Though, the second your eyes met his across the room tonight, celebrating a mutual friends birthday, you knew that it was a fucking lie.

You're not over him. You never were.

"Noah..." Another tug at his hair has his hips pressing into yours again, causing a moan to slip from your lips.

"Missed this." You hear him mumble, lips trailing up your chest to your neck. "Missed you."

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, the weight of it slamming into your chest. Missed you. That's the most vulnerable thing he's said to you in... ever. Your hips stutter for just a moment, eyes fluttering open to find that he's pulled back, already staring at you.

"Yeah? You missed me?" You hum out, your grip on his hair loosening.

"Of course I did." He pauses, tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, eyes dropping from yours to drag down your body. "Did you miss me?"

When his eyes find yours again you notice the grin tugging at his lips because he knows you did. If you didn't you wouldn't be here right now, his hips flushed against yours with your back against the wall. You roll your eyes, but you know your cheeks are flushing.

"Maybe."

"Don't be like that." His head dips down again, lips brushing against the base of your neck and you can't help but shudder, your fingers in his hair tightening their hold yet again. "Say it."

"...Say what?" You sound breathless, eyes fluttering shut as Noah's teeth grazed over your skin.

"That you missed me." You don't even bother stopping the whine that slips from you when he pulls away, but he doesn't go far. His lips are barely brushing against yours now, forehead pressed firmly against yours. "Say it. Please."

"...I always miss you, Noah."

There's a split second of silence before Noah's surging forward, lips pressing into yours with such force you wouldn't be surprised if you woke up with a bruise on your lips. It moves quickly after that, your underwear being lost somewhere in the dimly lit room with your shirt, and then the sound of his rustling belt as he shoves his jeans down. He pulls away to flip you around, your cheek now pressed against the wall.

Big hands sprawl against your backside, gripping, and the groan Noah lets out from behind you has your core aching.

"Fuck. Look at you..." You hear him shuffling behind you and then the sound of the condom wrapper ripping, and for a second your stomach drops.

He was prepared, which isn't shocking to you, but he couldn't have known you were going to be here tonight. He acted shocked when he saw you, even telling you that he didn't think you'd make it. Had he planned on hooking up with someone else tonight? You don't get to dwell on it for too long, or the way it makes your blood boil from jealousy, because his tip is pressing into your entrance.

"Oh fuck." Your eyes squeeze shut and you reach back blindly, his hand finding yours immediately.

"So fucking tight." He grits out.

Your fingers lace with his and you squeeze hard, because the stretch is almost too much. Almost. You can't lie to yourself and say you hate it, because you don't. You loved the stretch, the burn of it all, because it was a sore reminder the next day that he was yours for a moment. His hand that wasn't laced with yours gripped your hip, his thumb sliding across your bare skin in a comforting manner.

"Always take me so well," He exhales, voice teetering on a whine, and he leans his forehead against your shoulder. "So good."

You just whimper in response, squeezing his hand again. The both of you moan in unison when he finally bottoms out, hips pressed flush against together. He lifts his head before you feel his lips ghost over your shoulder.

"You okay?"

You nod, teeth digging into your bottom lip to try and keep your noises at bay, mind already racing at how fucking delicious he feels inside. You never understood how he always felt so good, snug deep inside you, like he was meant to be there. He presses another kiss to your shoulder before unlacing your fingers, letting both of his hands now grip your hip as he slowly starts to move.

The drag of his cock has your eyes rolling back, mouth dropping open as he pushed back in, hips snapping against yours. The gentle demeanor is now gone because he knows your time is limited so he doesn't waste it, rocking into you with such force that has you seeing fucking stars. Pleasure courses through your body as the head of his cock slams into that spot over and over, your body shuddering against the wall.

"Noah..."

"What is it, baby?"

"I... I need..." You don't even know what you need and find yourself grinding back against Noah, pushing his cock deeper inside you.

���What do you need?” You only whine at his words, grinding back against him again. You feel one of his hands slide from your hip and down to where the two of you meet, his fingers brushing against your swollen clit. Your body shudders again, a broken moan leaving your parted lips. “Oh? Is this what you need, sweetheart?”

You nod, cheek still pressed against the wall as your eyes squeeze shut. “Yes. Fuck, yes. Noah, baby, please.”

He shushes you, fingers pressing against your clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts. “I got you. Don’t worry. Gonna give you what you want.”

You hear him grunt behind you as your cunt clenched around his cock at his words. It was all becoming so much so quickly, if you were more coherent you’d be sad at how little time you actually had left with him, but you can’t even think of that. No, you’re too focused on how fucking good his fingers feel, rubbing circles against your sensitive clit. His thrusts don’t let up either, his pace quickening and the drag of his cock has a fire building in the pit of your stomach.

“Shit.” He whines out, giving you one hard thrust before grinding himself against your ass. “Does he fuck you like this, baby?”

You choke on a sob, pussy clenching around his cock and you hear him groan.

“No, he doesn’t. Poor baby was begging me to fuck her.” His face buries against the back of your neck, his thrusts picking up again. “But it’s okay, you don’t need him… because you know all you need is me, right? I’ll always give it to you the way you like.”

He sounds drunk, words slurring in between his moans as he thrusts into you again. Your cheek is starting to hurt with how hard it’s pressed against the wall but you don’t care, chanting Noah’s name over and over again. The fire in the pit of your stomach keeps growing and you blink away the tears that are burning at your eyes.

It’s so good, feels so fucking good but so wrong at the same time. He wasn’t lying. Your sex life with your current partner was fine but nowhere near compared to this. Noah knew your body better than you did and knew exactly what you needed every damn time.

“Noah, I’m…” Your eyes burned and you choked on another moan. The hand between your thighs never let up, and his other hand comes up to wrap around your throat gently.

“Gonna come?” You try to nod in his hold, but his grip on your neck tightens slightly making it difficult. “Yeah? Go ahead. You can come, pretty girl.”

And that does it, the coil in the deepest pit of your stomach undoing. Your vision blurs and if it wasn’t for the grip on your neck, you’re sure your moans would be so loud the entire house would’ve heard you. You don’t even fucking care at this point, too lost in the pleasure that’s coursing through you, and the way Noah continues to pound into you to reach his own high.

“That’s it, fuck. Come all over my cock, baby.” He groans behind you, face burying against your shoulder to muffle his own noises.

Your body convulses with aftershocks of your orgasm, whimpering in over sensitivity. It doesn’t take much longer for Noah to find his own release, hips stilling against your ass as he whined out your name. His hold on your neck releases but he doesn’t move from you.

The two of you stay tangled in each other for a few moments longer, trying to catch your breaths. The reality of what just happened settles over you but for some reason you feel… content. The guilt and disappointment was no longer lingering over you.

“Fuck.” Noah chuckles behind you, lifting his head from your shoulder just a bit to scatter a few kisses where his forehead had been. You preen at the affection. “That was…”

“Yeah.” You say breathlessly, groaning quietly when you feel him shift behind you, cock still buried inside you.

The two of you both whine at the feeling of him slipping out and you couldn’t help but feel sad at the emptiness it left behind. You hear him shuffle around behind you, probably to throw away the condom and to hopefully look for something to clean you off with, and when your felt him settle behind you, the gentle touch of a cotton between your legs has you melting against the wall.

“Sorry to whoever shirt this is.” Noah mumbles, chuckling quietly.

You only hum in response, eyes fluttering closed as the exhaustion enters your body. Noah takes his time and even places another kiss against your shoulder, whispering to you that he was done and that you could get dressed now.

Something shifted in the air after that, the moment much more intimate than the other times you had spent together. But you nod, humming in response again before turning to find your clothes. You find your clothes with ease, Noah's words lingering in your head.

Because you know all you need is me.

The truth in those words makes your throat close up and you try swallowing whatever it is you're feeling away, pulling your underwear up and under your skirt that was still bunched up around your waist. You smooth it down before reaching for your shirt, slipping your arms through the holes. The weight in your chest returns, just like it had when Noah mentioned that he had missed you, the first admission of its kind.

Maybe there was some truth behind that for him, as well. Maybe all he needed was you, too. Your stomach turns at the thought as you begin to button your shirt up with shaky fingers, hearing Noah shuffling behind you in silence.

You begin to wonder what he must be thinking and a part of you is hoping he's thinking the same thing. It's foolish believing, you know it is, but you can't help it. Maybe you two had finally gotten over that unspoken rule that was set in place to where all feelings were avoided? Maybe it was time you two faced the music and admitted to whatever the fuck was going on?

You shouldn't want this. You should let it go. Yet, your mind is racing with all the possibilities and what if's, and you find yourself speaking before you can double down on it.

"Noah, I..."

You finished buttoning your shirt, turning around to finally face the male but find him nowhere to be found. Your heart drops, sinking so low into the deepest pit of your stomach. He's gone. He left you here without even an utter of a goodbye. Your eyes burn and there's a sour taste in the back of your throat, building up slowly as the realization dawns on you.

[latenightdaydreams]

Homeless reader pickpockets König and gets caught? Instead of taking her to the police he takes her home? She's a spitfire, and he likes it.

🌶

König x Thief (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2

Master Lister

>cw: fem/afab, oral, p in v, unprotected, breasts f-ing

2.5k word count

💳

.

.

König walks late at night along the busy city streets to blow off steam. People watching is something he enjoys doing, curious how others live their lives so…simply. There is a heavy weight on his shoulders, the lives of other people in his hands to protect or to take. In a way, he envy’s these people to live without true knowledge of what the world's governments do behind closed doors.

A woman in a black baggy shirt and jeans catches his eyes, you. You move as if you’re trying to blend into the darkness, your eyes darting to everyone studying them the way he is. Who are you? Why are you acting so odd? 

As he walks on, his icy blue eyes move from you and continue to people watch. Your eyes fall on the tall man in what looks like a basic black shirt, but you have a keen eye for designer things. The watch on his left wrist hinting at the gold mine inside his wallet. When he gets close enough, you turn out of the storefront you were lingering in, passing König. 

The feeling of your smaller body bumping his snapped his eyes in your direction. You look up at him with a warm smile. “Pardon me.” Your voice and demeanor are extremely bubbly, different from the vibes you were previously giving to him. 

König looks down at you with no emotion and ignores your words. A few steps later, he stops, putting his hand in his pocket. Empty. He quickly spins around to see you trying to blend into the crowd. A smirk plays across König’s lips as he realizes he’s been robbed. He quickly turns, following you at a distance.

Thinking the man was none the wiser, there was a cocky arrogance in the way you moved. The wallet was safely secured in my satchel. You quickly turn to an alleyway that leads you back towards your tent. 

König stalks closely behind without you noticing. For being a thief, you lack spatial awareness. Someone could easily follow you, come up behind you and grab you. Such easy prey. He reaches his massive, calloused hand out, grabbing you by your arm, and spinning you to face him.

“Wallet. Now.” He towers over you by well over a foot, his eyes piercing into your own. One hand extended to accept the wallet back. 

“Let me go! I don’t have your wallet.” You struggle as if you’re truly innocent, hoping he will just think that he is mistaken and go away. What you don’t know is that you picked the wrong target. 

“I’ll demand nicely once more. My wallet. Now.”

Once you realize he isn’t buying your innocent act, you try to stomp his foot to run away. It worked countless times before. You lower the heel of your boot down as hard as you possibly can and prepare to run. The man didn’t even flinch, his eyes still gazing deeply into your own when you look up.

“Let me go!”

“Give me my stuff!” He shouts, his booming voice causing you to give up the hold on his wallet.

You dig into your satchel for his dark brown leather wallet. With an attitude, you slam into the palm of his hand. König feels a heat growing in his loin. This tiny little feisty thief isn’t scared of him? He looks at the defiant look on your face and takes in how attractive your features look this close up.

“You have your wallet, now let me go!” You try to pull your arm away from his hand but his grip is unpleasantly firm.

“You know I could have you arrested right? You just robbed a military Colonel.”

“I gave you your shit back!”

Even with the knowledge of his status, you’re still disrespectful. A deep laugh rumbles from König’s stomach as he looks down at you. “I like you. You’ve got spirit. How about I make you a deal?” König walks into you, forcing you against the brick wall behind you. “I won’t report you if you come home with me.”

A playful smirk pulls at your lips. “You want to fuck me?”

“Is that a problem for you?” König’s voice is low and sensual as his eyes drop to your pillowy lips. “Just one night. I’ll even pay you.”

“I’m not a whore.” You say defensively. 

“I never said you were; I’m just offering a gift. A gift for allowing me to have you… if you will.”

“How much?”

“More than you would have gotten from my wallet.” König’s tone is playful as he sees in your eyes that you’re actually considering doing this. 

“Fine. You’re not going to try and kill me, are you?” You ask half joking.

“I don’t hurt innocent delicate creatures such as yourself.” König moves his masked face to your neck, slowly breathing in your sweaty musk. “I’ll return you safely, and a few thousand dollars richer.”

Thousand piques your interest. You take a few seconds to think about it before looking around you. “Fine. I’ll entertain you for the night.”

“Perfect.” König smiles down at you. “Come with me.” His hand slides down from grabbing your arm to intertwining his fingers with yours. He turns away from the alleyway and begins to walk towards his home.

“What’s your name, Liebling?”

“Y/n. You?”

“I’m König.”

It takes about a twenty-minute walk to get to König’s home. You gaze around at his home, simply decorated but you can tell it’s all high-end luxury. This man really is wealthy. You feel König’s hand on your lower back as he guides you to the staircase, up to his bedroom.

“What are you wanting?” You ask him, unsure of how to go about this transaction. 

“Just a normal night. As if we are truly lovers.”

You stand and watch as he undresses. He takes his boots off, pulling down his snipper mask, exposing his face to you. His blonde hair is messy with an angular face scarred and aquiline nose. Taking in his rugged appearance, you admit to yourself that he is quite attractive. Your eyes follow his hands to the hem of his shirt, his body sculpted and powerful.

König drops his pants last, stepping out of them as they drop to his ankles. “Come here.” He holds his hand out for you, pulling you to him. His free hand reaches for the hem of your shirt, putting his hand underneath to feel your soft skin. Your muscles tense at his touch, his tenderness surprising for you.

As his eyes meet your, he pulls up your shirt. You lift your arms up as he slides your shirt off of your body, his hands quickly wrapping around your waist, caressing your silky-smooth skin. His hands gently glide up your back until he feels your bra, unhooking it and slowly guiding it off of your body. The way your breasts naturally fall when your bra comes away from your body is simply perfection.

König’s leave a trail down your neck to your breasts, holding each one in his hands as he drops to his knees in front of you. His mouth hungrily latches to your nipple, sucking a licking, taking his time on each one. “You have such lovely nipples.” He groans into your skin. 

Slowly, his hands drop down from your breasts, caressing your stomach before undoing your jeans. He pulls them down to your knees, moving one of his hands between your legs. There is a wet patch on your panties already forming. 

“Mien Gott, you’re so wet. I have to taste you.” In almost a rush he pulls down your underwear and drops lower on your body. He shoves his face between your supple thighs, flicking his tongue out against any part of your pussy he could reach. Once he got a small taste of your sweet creamy cunt, he needed more. 

König pulls back, grabbing at your shoes and tossing them to the side before pulling your jeans off completely. He grabs one of your legs and pulls it over his shoulder. You fall off balance, reaching out for him to stabilize yourself. His hands reach behind you and grasps your ass, squeezing as his tongue flicks over your cunt again. 

Tiny moans flow from your lips as your head drops back. Your hands hold his head to your pussy as your feel his tongue move in circles and twist around your clit. You allow yourself to truly relax and enjoy the pleasure you’re receiving. 

“I want to feel you, bury myself deep inside of this pussy.” He groans as he pulls back to gaze up at you. His eyes portray how in lust he is with you right now. It’s been nearly six years’ since he’s touched a woman and here you are; an angel from heaven simply fell into his lap.

König stands with your leg still over his shoulder, carrying you as if you weighed nothing, his hands holding you firmly by your rear. A surprised gasping giggle leaves your lips as he walks you to the bed. He places you down gently onto the bed, pulling down his boxers once his hands are free.

With your body pulled towards the edge of the bed, he grabs your thighs and pulls your legs back. He moves his hips to line his cock up with your vagina. His cock next to your cunt make you look so small. The rush of excitement that flows through him is unmatched by anything he’s felt in a long time.

Slowly, he pushes forward. His eyes focused on your face, watching the way your eyes widen slightly as the head of his cock parks your folds and slips into your tiny little cunt. A soft moan escapes you as your hands grab your legs, assisting in pulling them back. 

König’s eyes watch your stomach and breasts before going back up to your eyes, watching as the pleasure floods your body. Your pupils expand, covering the color of your irises almost completely. Such a beautiful sight. 

His hips roll slowly into you at first, letting you get adjusted to the size of his cock. He’s aware that he’s above average and doesn’t want to push you too far. Dropping his gaze, he watches the way his cock stretches your pussy lips apart, your walls hugging his cock tightly.

“König, yes.” You moan as your fingers dig into your legs, struggling to keep it together as he fucks you.

“Such a pretty voice.” He says breathlessly as he begins to pick up his pace, the small slapping sound of skin on skin being added to the beautiful melody of your moans. The feeling of you clenching around him drives him mad. “If you keep that up, I won’t last long.” König warns.

“Please don’t cum yet, your cocks so fucking good.” 

König looks down at you with a low groan, his eyebrows pinch together, and he shakes his head. “Your cunt’s too tight, so fucking wet.” His hips move more rapidly as one hand moves to cup your breast, pinching your nipping between his fingers as he squeezes. 

The fat on your thighs ripple as he slams into you. Your stomach and breasts look soft and inviting. You can feel your own wetness drip down from your pussy to your ass, wetting the bed sheets beneath you. König closes his eyes and drops his head back; a strong buildup of ecstasy takes over and he can’t ignore it. 

He pulls out, to your disappointment, and pulls your legs more so that you're almost off of the bed. Grabbing your breasts, he rests his wet cock between them and begins to thrust forward. You spit on your breasts to add lubrication for him. His hands squeeze your breasts almost painfully tightly together. 

A loud growl leaves his throat as he looks down at your breasts, completely swallowing his cock. One of your hands drops to your pussy to rub your clit in quick small circles. “Fuck!” König groans as he picks up his pace.

“Open your mouth.”

He steps back, jerking his cock quickly, focusing on the tip of his cock. A few small moans leave his lips before a spurt of his warm cum shoots out and lands in your mouth, dripping down your bottom lip. A few more land across your breasts and on your face. 

You lean forward and suck the tip of his cock, swallowing the rest of his cum. König’s muscles twitch as your mouth wraps around his head, your tongue circling it and making it clean.  “God, y/n. You’re driving me crazy. Get on the bed, bent over.” 

An excited look appears in your eyes as you realize he isn’t done with you yet. You stand, cum still on you, and bend over his bed. König walks up behind you, gazing at the heart shape your ass makes when you bend over like this. His large hand caresses the plumpness before he lines himself up with you again. 

“I want to feel you cum on my cock.” König says before shoving his cock back inside of you.

The next morning you are waken up by the sun peaking through the curtains. You feel König’s muscular arms holding you close to him still, his head resting on your own as he breathes deeply. From where you lay, you can see his expensive watch resting on his dresser, you slowly start to take in everything in the room and think about how much money you could get from pawning all of it. But then your eyes land on König peacefully asleep and feel guilty for wanting to take form him. He’s been surprisingly…kind.

Your eyes go back to his watch, then back to him. With a deep sigh, you push his arms away from your body gently and sneak out of bed. Still naked you wake to his dresser and grab the watch to look at it more closely. 

König feels you move so he opens one eye slightly to watch what you’re doing. He sees you holding the watch, inspecting it. His heart sinks slightly at the fact that he’s trusting you in his home and yet you are doing this. Instead of stopping you, he just pretends to sleep still, seeing what you would do.

He can feel the weight of your small body joining him back in bed. You move slowly so as to not wake König up, but his arms grab you, pulling you back to him. “I can buy you your own Hermès, if that’s what you’d like.” 

You can feel your stomach drop, he saw you looking at his watch. “I wasn’t going to take it.” A lie, and you know he knows it’s one.

“I’m just letting you know; I can take care of you. You don’t have to steal anymore.” His sleepy voice is low and raspy. He reaches out and caresses the side of your face as you gaze at him with a guilty look on your face.

“We can go shopping before I drop you off.” König insists as he stretches, sitting up.

A small smile spreads across your lips as you realize you’ve landed in the lap of luxury. König is happy to share his wealth with you and you’re happy to accept it.

Part 2

[hihomeghere]

Nightwing | Diego Hargreeves/reader

Word Count : 4k Summary : You try to keep Diego Hargreeves off your mind, especially after your break up. But after he breaks into your apartment begging you to patch him up. All the good and bad memories come flooding back. (this is my first time writing for Diego so please be nice) Warnings/tags : Smut, cursing, hospital setting, reader is a nurse, mentions of blood, wounds, and bullets. (I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters)

You rubbed your eyes, getting used to the darkness your bedroom was shrouded in. Bleary eyed you reached blindly for the vibrating phone on your nightstand, the culprit for so rudely waking you up. You groaned, slamming your phone back down as you read the contact name.

The words Do Not Answer, glowed on your Lock Screen in the dim lit room. Diego Hargreeves. 

It was too fucking late for him to be calling you. There was no way you’d be playing nurse for him anymore, especially on one of your only nights off.

Instead you sat awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling while your phone finally stopped buzzing. Well at least he was smart enough not to call you back. Accepting the fact that you would not be falling back asleep you got up. Slipping your feet into your fuzzy slippers you padded down the hall into your kitchen. You flipped on the overhead oven light, before grabbing your bread bag. You popped two pieces of bread in your toaster. You leaned up against your counter trying to get a certain Hargreeves off your mind. This whole situation started a little over a year ago, on one of your shifts.

-

You leaned against the cool brick wall of the hospital, the cold air seeping through your scrubs. You rubbed your arms, trying to warm up. You had forgotten your coat before going on your break and you knew the second you stepped back in the break room you’d get a call.

So here you were, freezing your ass off behind the back of the hospital. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, swiping through Facebook. Not that anyone was posting anything, after all it was close to 2am. You let out a deep breath, watching your hot breath drift up in front of your face. You chuckled to yourself, puffing out hot air.

“What are you 10?” A deep voice groaned from your left. You jumped, your hand covering your wildly beating heart.

“I don’t have any money,” You said quickly, raising your hands, “please I’m on my break. I don’t even have my freaking coat.” You said nervously, backing up against the wall.

“I’m not gonna rob you.” The man said as he limped out into the light. He was obviously hurt, his hand pressing against his side. Blood stained his hand, as he gave you a sideways smile.

“Damn it.” You sighed, before you rushed towards him. “You know there’s an emergency room for a reason right?” You said as you started to pull his sweater up, slowly unsticking it from his skin. He hissed, squeezing his eyes close. 

“Yeah, well I’m trying to keep a low profile.” He grunted, shifting to offer you a better angle for looking at the wound in his side. 

“What’s with the mask, nightwing?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you looked over the wound. He let out a laugh before taking a sharp inhale as your fingers grazed the bullet hole. “Well you’re in luck, it’s only a graze. Although it looks like a bullet wound, want to explain that?” You said sitting back on your heels.

“Like I said, low profile.” He smirked again, you only shook your head.

“Well, there isn’t much I can do out here under these lights.” You said pointing above you, “Lucky for you I can get you in the back, all low profile like.” You teased getting to your feet.

“My hero.” You turned toward the back door, pulling out your keycard. You swiped your keycard, the red light turning green. You pushed open the door, waving the man in.

“I’m Y/n, by the way.” You said walking him down the hall, you pulled over a spare bed, patting it.

“Nice to meet you.” He groaned as he sat down on the bed. You peeled his sweater off of his side, he grabbed it holding it up for you.

“Alright you stay here, and I’ll be right back.” You said giving him a small smile before running to get your gloves, needles, surgical thread, and some antiseptic. You ran back, narrowly avoiding your coworkers. 

“There you are doc,” He said leaning back, he was lucky he didn’t get a straight gut shot. 

“Just a nurse.” You reminded him with a smile. You began laying out your tools, he took in a sharp breath turning his head. “Hey, are you alright?” You asked, laying your hand on his shoulder.

“Yep. Yep. Just uh-“ He shook his head, “can’t do needles.” Your furrowed your brows.

“So a bullet wound is just fine but needles are the shit that freaks you out?” You said as you began to clean the graze. He hissed again, his hard body tensing under your fingers.

“Does that ruin the whole mysterious vigilante thing?” He asked, his eyes fixated on the ceiling. You laughed, shaking your head.

“No, you’re still very cool and mysterious.” You chuckled as you began to suture his wound. He barely moved under your hands, only wincing now and again. Once you were finished you took off your gloves, throwing them away in the trash. You patted his leg, “Alright nightwing, you’re all done. But you’ll have to come back to get your stitches taken out.” He nodded getting off of the bed.

“Thank you,” He smiled at you as you walked him to the back door.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled as well, pushing open the door. He stepped into the cold air, “Come back in two weeks, alright?” You called after him.

“Whatever you say doc.” He said walking into the darkness.

After that night you would normally see Mr. Vigilante whenever he had an injury he couldn’t just put a bandaid over and call it good. He always seemed to take care of them once you had patched him up. 

“I came here the other night.” He said as you tied off a new cut on his calf, “You must not have been working. Had to go crawling to my mom.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Probably gave her a heart attack.” You said, raising your eyebrows, “Is she a nurse?” You asked standing up.

“Um,” He paused, choosing his next words carefully, “no, but she used to patch me up when I was a kid.” He shrugged, rolling his pant legs back down.

“Oh so this Evel Knievel stuff started long ago.” You laughed putting your hands on your hips.

“You could say that.” He smirked, nodding his head. You fought with yourself for a moment, if you weren’t working you were at home. You could always give him your number. A quick text would let him know if you were working or not. But then you’d also be telling him your address if you weren’t working. Telling him your address wasn’t like giving him a key. He could just stop by your place if you weren’t working, to avoid giving his poor mother a heart attack. 

“You know, you could always text me to see if I'm working or not. It would save you a trip if I wasn’t.” You said looking down at your white sneakers.

“A little forward, don’t you think?” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

“Alright, just make sure you don’t bleed out before you reach your mommy’s house.” You said nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders as you turned away from him. He reached out, his hand wrapping around your forearm as he pulled you back to face him.

“Alright alright, you’ve twisted my arm. Give me your phone.” He said, rolling his eyes, his hand out in front of you.

“Talk about being forward.” You laughed while handing over your phone. He put his number in, while you stood in front of him. He handed it back to you, crossing his arms.

“Diego?” You asked, reading his contact name.

“Can’t have you calling me nightwing anymore.” He shrugged as he got to his feet. You walked him to the back door, as you always did. Watching as he walked away from the hospital.

“I’ll see you Diego.” You called, his name rolling off your tongue.

“See ya, doc.” He called over his shoulder before being enveloped by the darkness. 

-

You jumped slightly as your toast popped out of the toaster. You set the bread down on your plate, slathering them with butter. You walked into your living room, plopping down on your leather couch. 

There was a knock on your window, you groaned. That asshole wouldn’t come here. You stood up turning to your window, only to be face to face with Diego. His mask was gone, and his lip was bloody. He pointed down at the lock on the window, mouthing please through the glass.

You stomped over to the window, flipping the lock before you pulled up open the window.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve coming here.” You huffed, clenching your fists at your sides.

“C’mon baby.” He whispered, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Don’t.” You hissed, shaking your head. “Just get inside before someone sees you.” You said walking back into your kitchen. He followed you like a lost puppy, hanging his head as he leaned on your kitchen counter. 

You hated how well he fit in your home. Like he still belonged here, even after everything he had said.

Pushing those thoughts away you pulled your first aid kit out from under the sink. Laying out your tools on the counter next to Diego. 

“What is it, other than that busted lip.” You huffed, rolling your eyes. 

“You weren’t answering my calls” He said looking up at you through his full eyelashes.

“Why would I?” You said turning away from him. Having him in your kitchen was almost too painful, bringing back too many good memories.

-

Your phone buzzed next to you, you picked it up reading Diego’s text message.

You jumped up from your couch rushing to grab your medical kit. It was a normal occurrence for him to come crashing into your apartment late at night. Only for you to patch him up under your kitchen lights. You started laying your tools out on your kitchen counter. Before you rushed over to your sink, washing your hands and your upper arms. 

Diego crashed through your window, landing on the rug below it. He slowly got to his feet as you rushed to meet him.

“Are you alright?” You asked, your heart beating out of your chest. He raised his head, his eyebrows were knitted together as he put a hand over his chest. “Diego what is it?” Your anxiety was through the roof, he was never this quiet. Although you couldn’t see any obvious injuries. 

“Doc,” He started, his warm hand enveloping your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat as his other hand tilted your chin up.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“It’s my heart, doc.” He said, a grin spreading across his face, “You gotta fix it for me.” You searched his face, your furrowed eyebrows relaxing as you snorted.

“How long have you been waiting to use that one?” You laughed, your anxiety leaving your body through your giggles. 

“A while actually.” He chuckled, cupping your face. His eyes searched for any resistance to his advances. You raised your hand, softly tracing over his scar. You could now cross that off your bucket list. You breathed in each other’s essence in your small kitchen, your slippers scuffing against the linoleum floor.

“Are you gonna fix it?” He whispered, even though it was only you two.

“What?” You asked as his hands moved from your face to your hips.

“My heart?” He said a coy smile on his face. You pulled him into a kiss, your fingers threading through his hair. His lips were soft against yours, softer than you imagined and so warm. You could feel him smile into the kiss, you could almost curl your toes at the sensation. You pulled away staring into his deep brown eyes. 

“How’d you rate the pain?” You asked, laying your hand over his heart.

“I think I need some more medicine, doc.” He said nosing against your cheek, laying a kiss against the corner of your lips.

“I think I can do that.” You chuckled, pulling him into another kiss. You tugged lightly on his hair, pulling a groan out of him. You slowly walked backwards, pulling him along with you. Diego followed you into your bedroom, your legs collided with your bed. You fell back, Diego caging you between his arms. You moved your hands under his sweater, feeling his lean abs under your fingers. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head discarding it behind him. You traced over his scars, studying his body without having to patch him up.

“Hey, my turn.” He smirked, pinning your wrists above your head. He grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your breasts. You shivered as the cold air hit your chest, your nipples hardening. He flashed you a devilish smile before taking one of your tits in his mouth. He sucked and nipped, while his other hand pinched your nipple. You bucked against his mouth, squirming under his grasp.

He pulled back, tugging your shirt over your head. You shimmied out of your cotton shorts and panties. Leaving yourself completely bare under him. 

“Hello nurse.” He grinned, taking in your body. He ran his hands down your hips before swiping his finger through your folds. He slowly pushed a finger inside you, chuckling as you let out a moan. He started pumping his digits, curling them inside. You whined as he pulled them out, he moaned as he sucked them clean. He stood up, kicking off his pants and underwear before joining you on the bed. 

He fisted his cock in his hand, pumping his shaft a couple times before lining the head up with your opening. He looked up at you before slowly pushing in. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his soft flesh. He didn’t seem to mind as his eyes rolled back into his head as he bottomed out. He was bigger than you imagined, his tip all but kissing your cervix. 

“Move Diego please.” You whined, blinking away the tears of pleasure welling up in your eyes. He grinned before he started moving his hips. He began a slow grind into your cunt, his pubic hair rubbing against your clit. Going slow enough to get you teetering on the edge, his mouth attached to neck. “Please Diego!” You cried, wrapping your legs around his hips trying to get more friction between the two of you. 

“What do you want, baby?” He chuckled darkly, you could feel it through his chest more than you could hear it. 

“More, please” You whined. He suddenly snapped his hips against yours, pulling all the way out before slamming back into you. It was enough to cause your orgasm to come crashing down. You spasmed against him, your body going limp as you swore you saw white. A constant mantra of Diego’s name fell out of your mouth as he pounded into you. A bead of sweat fell from his chest down the valley of your breasts. 

His thrusts started getting sloppy as he tightened his grip on your hips, pulling them against his own. He let out a groan as he came, thick ropes of cum spilling inside you as his cock twitched. He fell on top of you, breathing hard against your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, breathing him in.

“How’s your heart?” You asked, he chuckled before propping himself up on his arm.

“Never better, doc.” 

-

Since that night you were inseparable, if you weren’t at work you were with him. Whether that be at your place or his. The last eight months were the best of your life. You were utterly content with your relationship with Diego, you should have known something would go wrong. 

You headed into the gym, balancing your takeout boxes as you walked down the hall to Diego’s place. It was late, and you had just gotten off a long shift. You were looking forward to eating some take out and watching shitty movies on his shitty couch. Instead, you could hear arguing coming from the other side of his door.

“Absolutely not, now you need to leave before she gets here.” Diego said from the other side of the door.

“Who is this mystery woman you’re always talking about? ‘Oh Klaus, no you can’t meet her.’ ‘She’s different than the others.’ Blah, blah, blah. Just put on your big girl panties and introduce me!” The man replied. 

“No way. Now let’s go.” The door opened in front of you, you were face to face with Diego and another man. He had short curly brown hair, his shirt was unbuttoned, and he had the prettiest green eyes you had ever seen.

“Y/n.” Diego’s face fell as he laid his eyes on you. The man beside him gasped as he turned back to Diego.

“Is this her?” He asked, a grin spreading across his face.

“Diego, who is this?” You asked, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“I’m Klaus, his brother.” Klaus said, sticking out his hand. You took it, giving him a warm smile. You didn’t know Diego had a brother.

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you!” You said before turning to look back at Diego. “Diego didn’t tell me he had a brother.”

“More like four.” Klaus scoffed, throwing an arm around Diego’s shoulder. Four brothers? “And not counting our two sisters.” Klaus added as you turned back to him with wide eyes. Six siblings that he had just forgotten to mention? Diego shrugged Klaus's arm off of his shoulder, glaring daggers at him.

“Well Klaus was just leaving.” Diego said, clenching his jaw.

“Diego.” You scolded.

“Oh well, you know how these Hargreeves are.” Klaus smiled turning to you, the closer he got you noticed how he reeked of alcohol. Although you felt extremely sober. Hargreeves. Like the umbrella academy, Hargreeves? Klaus walked back down the hall, talking to someone who wasn’t there. 

“Hargreeves?” You asked, turning to look at him. He sighed looking down at the ground. “Like the umbrella academy, Hargreeves?” Diego turned and walked back inside his studio. Taking two stairs at a time to put as much distance between the two of you. You were hot on his heels, you set down the take out boxes before turning to face him. He had his arms crossed over his chest, looking off to the side. “Well?” You asked impatiently.

“Well it’s not like you asked!” He said his shoulders rising.

“What, next are you gonna tell me that the Alison Hargreeves is one of your sisters?” You laughed humorlessly. He bit his lip, turning away from you. “Unbelievable.” You said, shaking your head.

“You know this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.” He said suddenly turning on you, “Cause I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

“Oh I can handle it.” You scoffed taking a step away from him, “What I can’t handle is you keeping something like this from me. God I’m so stupid I should have put it together. All that vigilante shit.” You said rubbing the bridge of your nose. 

“Well now you know.” He huffed, clenching his jaw. 

“That doesn’t make it any better! We’re supposed to tell each other everything.” You said throwing up your hands.

“Don’t give me that shit. You were perfectly fine being in the dark before this. You didn’t even ask for my name before you were inviting me over to your place.” He spit, a cocky smile on his lips.

“Diego, that's not fair.” You said, hating how your lower lip trembled.

“No, what's not fair is you expecting me to get down on one knee when we’ve known each other for what, a year? You want me to take you home to meet mom and pops?” A tear slipped down your cheek, you wanted to run. Backed in a corner while Diego paced. Your feet felt glued to the floor in a place you had thought of as your second home.

“Diego…” You said softly, blinking back your tears.

“You know maybe you should go.” He huffed, clenching his jaw. “I think this-“ he motioned between the two of you, “has gone on long enough anyway. It was never going to last.” He crossed his arms looking away from you. You felt your heart break in your chest. You swallowed thickly, your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“If that’s what you want.” You said biting the inside of your cheek.

“It is.” He said, looking at the door and then back at you. You quickly turned, running up the stairs and out of the studio. You slammed the door behind you, your sneakers squeaking against the gym floor. You pushed open the metal door, speed walking to your car. Once inside you broke down, sobs wracking your body. You allowed yourself to feel everything, waiting until the tears had subsided before you turned on your car. 

You were about a block away from your apartment when the anger hit.

-

And the anger had stayed, it was a poor mask for your pain, you knew that. You also knew if you weren’t angry you would break. That anger fueled you, it’s not your fault that Diego was afraid of commitment. Was part of this your fault, maybe. Maybe you should have demanded more from him before getting so deep. 

Now he was here, asking for your help. A stupid busted lip that he could have taken care of himself. 

“I wanted to apologize.” He said, making you stop in your tracks.

“Then do it.” You said coolly, crossing your arms.

“Look, I'm sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just- Klaus freaked me out and I just didn’t want you finding out about the umbrella academy from him.” He said leaning back on your counter.

“Well then maybe you should have told me sooner.” You snapped, glaring at him. “I never pushed you for anything Diego, never. I understand that the academy is a sore subject, but that’s not my fault.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. 

“I know that-“ He said, holding up his hand. You raised your eyebrows, “You’re right. You’re always right.” He said, hanging his head. It did give you some satisfaction to see him all but begging on his knees for your forgiveness. But you needed more.

“No you’re right Diego,” his head shot up, his eyes meeting yours with a confused expression, “ I was fine with being in the dark. But I’m not fine with it anymore. I want your everything.” You said as you bit your lip, hugging your arms tight around your body. 

“Shit- I want that too.” He stepped forward, his hand lightly touching your arm.

“Then stop being such a pussy.” You teased, a small smile pulling on your lips. He snickered, pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing him in. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, swaying slightly with you in his arms. 

“Do you want to meet my mom?” He whispered, you pulled away looking at him.

“Are you sure?” You asked, your hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“You’re the one who said not to be a pussy.” He said with a nervous laugh.

“If you’re ready for that, then sure. I’d love to meet your mom.” You smiled, he leaned down softly kissing you. He pulled away with a hiss as soon as your lips touched.

“Forgot about that.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Let’s clean that lip first alright, nightwing?” You teased, lightly patting his chest.

“Whatever you say, doc.”

[ririright]

Monday morning chaos like sam trying to chain himself to the bed so he doesn’t have to go to school and trying to wake Scott up is like talking to a brick wall and of course fighting over the front seat all while having to race them to school on time

“Monday Mayhem in the Monroe Household”

Son! Sam x Mom Reader x Son! Scott

“Boys! Get up!” you roared from the kitchen, flipping pancakes with the kind of furious energy usually reserved for street fights. The toaster popped violently, launching toast like a ballistic missile, and you lunged, catching it one-handed. The eggs were starting to smoke.

Silence. Absolute, ominous silence from the boys’ room.

Your eye twitched. “SCOTT! SAM! GET. UP!”

Nothing. Not a rustle. Not a groan.

Oh, we’re doing this today?

You stomped down the hallway, the spatula still in your hand like a weapon. The boys’ room was a war zone of discarded laundry, guitar picks, and crumpled sports jerseys. Somewhere under a fortress of blankets, Scott lay sprawled like a corpse, only his wild, sandy hair poking out.

“Scott. Get. Up.” You shook his shoulder. Nothing. You shook harder. “Scott Monroe, if you don’t wake up right now, I swear I will—”

“M’awake,” he slurred, his face still buried in the pillow.

“No, you’re not.” You yanked the pillow out from under him. He barely reacted, face now squashed against the bare mattress.

“Five more minutes…”

“No. Minutes.” You leaned down and grabbed the bottom of his mattress, heaving it upwards like you were flipping a pancake. Scott’s limp body slid off, hitting the floor with a thud.

“WHAT THE—MOM!”

“Good morning, sunshine!” you chirped, already moving to the other side of the room.

Sam’s bed was… suspicious. His familiar pile of blankets seemed a little bulkier today, and one corner of his comforter had a silver glint to it.

“Sam?” You leaned in, and a chain slipped out, clinking against the bedpost.

Oh, no.

“Samuel Monroe. Did you chain yourself to the bed again?”

“I’m protesting!” came his muffled voice from beneath the mountain of blankets.

“Protesting what?”

“School. Life. Waking up.”

You ripped off the covers, revealing Sam, half-tangled in the chains that usually dangled from his cargo shorts, looped around his waist, padlocked to the bed frame. His eyeliner was smeared, his hair a chaotic mess, and he clutched the chains like a Victorian prisoner.

“This is a statement!” he shouted, yanking at the chains dramatically.

You sighed, plucking a hairpin from your wrist and expertly picking the lock like the experienced boy mom you were. “The only statement you’re making is that I should’ve invested in a home security system instead of raising two tiny gremlins.”

Sam flopped backwards, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes. “I can’t go. I’m dropping out. I’m living off the grid.”

“Perfect. I’ll take your Xbox and turn your music room into a yoga studio.”

“I’M UP!”

In the kitchen, the pancakes were on the brink of cremation. You flipped them onto plates, shoved eggs on the side, and stuffed lunch boxes with whatever you could grab — leftover pasta for Sam, a ham and cheese sandwich for Scott, a handful of cookies for both because you had already accepted defeat.

The boys stumbled in, Scott wearing his jersey backwards and blinking like a newborn mole, Sam in a wrinkled band tee, his chains still dragging behind him like some goth Christmas decoration.

“Sit. Eat. Do not speak,” you commanded, slamming the plates down.

Peace. Beautiful, fleeting peace. The boys ate with the desperation of starving wolves, syrup dripping down Scott’s chin while Sam stabbed at his eggs like they owed him money.

“I need more syrup,” Scott grumbled, holding out his plate.

“Please?” you corrected, pouring more.

“Please.”

“I need coffee,” Sam muttered, leaning his forehead against the table.

“You need therapy,” you shot back, kissing the top of his head.

Three minutes of bliss. Then you glanced at the clock.

“WE’RE LATE!”

Chaos re-erupted. Scott bolted to the bathroom, trying to brush his teeth while simultaneously shoving on his shoes. Sam was swearing because one of his chains got stuck in the door handle.

“Backpacks! Shoes! Let’s go!” you yelled, grabbing your keys.

Scott shot out of the bathroom, leaping over the couch like a parkour athlete. “SHOTGUN!”

“NO, YOU DON’T!” Sam lunged, grabbing his brother by the hoodie. “I’m not sitting in the back next to your stinky gym bag again!”

They were clawing at each other like feral cats, and you stormed out the front door. “I don’t care who sits where! Both of you — BACK SEAT!”

They froze, looking at you with wide, betrayed eyes.

“But—”

“BACK. SEAT.”

They crammed in, knees jammed against each other, still muttering curses.

“I get to pick the music,” Scott declared, grabbing the aux cord.

“Like hell you do!” Sam snatched it, yanking it so hard it nearly ripped.

“I will turn this car around,” you threatened, pulling out of the driveway at breakneck speed.

“Mom, he’s playing that screamo crap!”

“Better than your stupid Drake playlist!”

You ripped the aux cord out, shoving it in your cup holder. “No music. Silence. Absolute silence.”

Miraculously, they shut up.

For thirty seconds.

“Mom, he’s breathing on me.”

“I’m literally breathing air!”

“Boys.”

“He’s got his gross hoodie on me!”

“It’s not gross, it’s fashion!”

“I will leave you both on the side of the road!” you barked, gripping the wheel so hard your knuckles were white.

You swerved into the school drop-off lane, tires squealing. The boys grabbed their bags, Scott nearly tripping over Sam as they tumbled out.

“Have a great day!” you called, leaning out the window with a forced smile.

Scott paused, waving. “Love you, Mom.”

Sam leaned back in, blowing you a kiss. “Thanks, Mom.”

They ran off, shoving each other the whole way to the doors.

You sank back into your seat, taking a deep, glorious breath. Silence. Sweet, perfect silence.

Your phone buzzed.

Scott: I forgot my math book. Can you bring it?

You screamed into the steering wheel.

[boopiemadz]

hi friend!! would love some more established relationship popular!reader + loser!travis (so basically just canon travis). preferably fluff— maybe a scene where reader has reservations about their relationship being public so Travis doesn’t think reader would want to be seen with him because shes popular. that’s not why. reader just absolutely does not give a shit about that and aspect and responds by making it very obvious that they’re dating. or anything. i really don’t care

if you don’t want to there’s absolutely no pressure ofc. ur writing is what’s getting me into x reader fics and I just want more so tysm <3

- 🧸🍓

🥹🥹 dude yr bouta make me cry... OFC! This is such a cute idea I was giggling and kicking my feet while writing this, forgive thee if the beginnings a little angsty- its habitual atp, but dw it gets rlly cute and fluffy at the end :)

No more hiding. ~Blurb~

!Popularreader X !LoserTravis (Collection masterlist)

The brick wall behind the bleachers was cool against you back as Travis kissed you like you were the only girl in the world. His hands hovered at your hips, thumbs brushing over the hem of your shirt, warm and a little shaky. You tilted your chin, deepening the kiss until he groaned softly, like he couldn’t help himself.

This was your thing. The ritual. After fifth period and before practice, tucked away where no one looked too hard. He tasted like cinnamon gum and mystery, you’d never get tired of it.

But when he pulled back today, something was different. His eyes didn’t hold yours like usual, he just looked down and took his hands off you right away. You blinked up at him. “What?” He shook his head, avoiding your gaze. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” You nudged his leg with your sneaker. “Talk to me.” But he didn’t. He just stood, brushing off his jeans and muttering something about being late.

It got weird after that.

You still met under the bleachers. Still kissed like you were starving for each other. But his hands stayed hesitant, and his eyes kept dodging yours. In the hallways he avoided your gaze, he tried his hardest to stay away from your lunch spot instead of giving you a tight lipped smile and a 'hey' like he normally did.

Two days later, it hit a boiling point.

You were at your locker, pulling out your gym clothes when Natalie- one of the few people who knew about you and Travis, slid up beside you with a raised brow.

“He’s sulking.” You blinked. “Who?” She gave you a look. “Don’t do that. You know who.” You sighed. “I don’t get it. We’re fine. Or- he hasn’t said anything.”

“That’s the problem.” Natalie leaned closer, whispering, “People talk, you know. About you. And him. You’re the pretty popular girl, he’s the awkward loner dude. Everyone’s got an opinion. Don't think that's something he'd just casually bring up.”

Your stomach twisted. “Somebody said something, didn’t they?” She hesitated. Then nodded. “In the locker room. Couple guys made a comment about how you ‘dont actually like Travis.’ Something about how how he's too 'weird' for you.” You slammed your locker. The sound echoed.

“That’s bullshit,” you muttered. “How'd they even know we've been hooking up? W- Thats not the point but like- thats such bullshit.”

“Maybe someone saw you guys,” Natalie said. “Assumed because you were makingout under the bleachers you were embarrassed about him our something, using him.”

You found him outside after fourth period, sitting against the wall behind the gym, textbook in his lap, hair a little messy from running his hands through it.

“Hey,” you said, sliding next to him. He didn’t look at you. “So this is what we’re doing now?” He sighed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” You threw your hands up. “We kiss like crazy, hang out all the time, and now you barely look at me.” He stared ahead, jaw tight. “It’s fine. I get it. You don’t want people to see you with me.”

You froze.

“What?”

He stood, textbook closing with a thud. “You’re popular, okay? You’ve got this whole thing going. I’m the weird kid with headphones in and no social life. You keep us private because you don’t want the whole school whispering about how you downgraded.”

Your heart dropped.

“That’s what you think?” you asked, quiet. He shrugged, arms crossed. “It’s fine. I’m not mad. Just wish I’d seen it sooner.” You were speechless for a moment, heat rising behind your eyes. Not embarrassment- anger.

“You think I’m hiding you because I’m ashamed of you?”

“Am I wrong?”

You stepped forward, voice shaking with something sharp. “You’re wrong because I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel more like myself than you do. You’re wrong because I’ve spent years being watched like I’m someone on display, and this? You and me? It was finally something that was just mine, just ours.”

He blinked. You kept going.

“When I’m with you, I’m not perfect or popular or anything for anyone. I’m just... me. And I liked having that. I liked having you all to myself. If you think I won’t show the whole damn school you’re mine...”

You grinned, stepping into his space, hands finding the hem of his shirt and tugging gently. “Watch me.”

The next morning, you did your makeup the way you always did- just a little extra shimmer on your eyes. Gloss. The gold hoops Travis said he liked. You wore his hoodie tied around your waist ,the one he left at your house last weekend.

You found him leaning against his locker before second period, hands buried in his jacket pockets. You didn’t hesitate. You walked straight up to him, curled your fingers into his collar, and kissed him.

Not a peck. Not a blink-and-you-miss-it kiss. A real kiss. In front of everyone. Warm hands on his chest, your fingers curling just under his collar. You felt him stiffen in surprise before melting into it, arms sliding around your waist, mouth warm and hungry on yours. You heard a locker slam nearby. Someone gasp.

You didn’t care.

You pulled back only when you wanted to, heart thudding. His eyes were wide. “What was that?” You smirked. “Me, not being embarrassed.”

He laughed, actually laughed, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, kissing your cheek gently. “Okay,” he said. “Message received.”

Later, when you ducked into an empty classroom during lunch (because old habits die hard), he pressed you up against the door and kissed you breathless, hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“I still want it to be just ours sometimes,” you whispered against his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I’m hiding.” He kissed your jaw, your neck, his voice low and warm. “I know. Just needed to hear it.”

You tangled your fingers in his, pulling him even closer. “Then hear this. You’re mine. Loud and clear.” He smiled into your mouth. “Yours.”

That afternoon, the whispers were louder than usual. People stared. And you? You kissed him in the hallway anyway. Because he wasn’t just your secret anymore. He was your everything. And you were done pretending otherwise.

A/N-

Can someone help me! I cant insert 'keep reading; without it messing with the formatting of my images... its so annoying.

(feel free to slide into my inbox :)

[rasberrybabez]

Little Killer

Simon “Ghost” Riley, also known as the infamous serial killer Ghost. You were supposed to be his next victim, but he just can’t break a birdie like you, can he?

But you can definitely break a few of his bones.

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Tags: Slight hurt/Caretaking, dom/sub relations, smut (eventually), serial killer Simon so minor gore, blood, dark humor, size difference.

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt.3 (hopefully! ❤️)

xoxo-Razz.writes

You hadn’t meant to hit him, really.

You could have sworn that the large, brick wall of a man now lying on the concrete in front of your car practically jumped at the opportunity to get hit. Literally. Walked right out and stood there, and if you had been a little later to work? A little more desperate? There wouldn’t be a body to help.

Which is what you’re currently attempting.

The large man is on his side, blood dripping onto the pavement below, the old backroad abandoned except for the two of you. You’re panicking, mustang stalling being you as you rush out, kneeling down next to the man you hit.

well fuck, is the common thought in your head.

Relief floods your veins as the man slowly groans, sitting up, and you take in a sharp and shaky breath. The man looks dazed, but as you reach for your phone to call 911, a strong arm grabs your wrists.

“Dontcha’ fuckin’ dare, birdie…”

Which is how you ended it up with the tall, six-foot-something, wingspan at least a yard and a half, beast of a man on the couch in your little apartment. He didn’t talk much as you rambled apologies in the car, his massive body piled in the back. No, he just let you talk, hands shaking and driving very reckless, speeding back to your flat.

He barely talked as you cleaned his wounds, some nasty gashes on his head, arms and side, and checked his chest for broken ribs. Adrenaline in your blood and mind fuzzy with panic, zero survival instincts set into gear. Why would they? You weren’t the one hit by a speeding mustang, only slamming on the breaks second before impact.

No, that was the fault of the man on your couch.

At last, an awkward silence stretches between the two of you. You, on the ground in front of the man, said man on the couch. You caught yourself staring, scarred body and face only made worse by your accident. Blonde hair cropped close to his skull, hazel eyes that seemed piercing, driving into his surroundings. And those cargo pants… you could see every outline of his defined legs. Those thighs…

“You’re starin’, birdie.”

Your head snaps up at his words, eyes going wide. He’s studying you now in return, chest rushing and falling with a pained struggle he masks well. Oversized hoodie and a pair of shorts three sizes too small, but you couldn’t bring yourself to buy another pair for a whole £68.

So instead, you make sure your hands cover your thighs a little bit more, heat creeping up your cheeks.

The man grins.

“Don’t be shy, bird. You’ve seen my skin, ain’t ya? Got me good, a lil more blood than I like. Can’t a man admire yours?”

You swallow, eyes snapping to his again. Now that your heart was calming down, you didn’t know what to make of the situation. Stranger in the living room, lawsuit indefinite, and money for said lawsuit non-existent.

So on shaky legs, you stand, and decide to make the most of it.

“Um… I’m sorry. F-For hitting you… with my car. I’ll give you my info, a-and I can take pictures of the damage and send it to you if you want, I’m really sorry I-”

“Hush, birdie. Like a scared lil fawn you are…”

The man chuckles as your cheeks heat again, and you almost wince at the almost condescending tone. But you don’t. You just nod, swallowing your pride, and meeting his eyes again.

“…do you want food?”

The man is silent for a moment, lips pulled a little fuller than usual, almost a smirk. Almost a smile. He studies you, and God help you is he not making any of this easy. You expected yelling, threats and at least a little communication, no matter how angry it is.

you’re met with silence, mostly. Until he breathes out a low response, words vibrating you to your core.

“Yeah, birdie. ‘S long as it’s yours…”

You nod, and push away from the large, intimidating and unsettlingly attractive man in your living room. Food, he’ll take food. An olive branch, yes, but it was something. But what food does someone like him eat?

In the kitchen, you scrub through the refrigerator and pantry, settling on box pasta and an Alfredo sauce. Simple enough, really.

Though the silence is exhausting.

“…what’s your name?”

You ask timidly, putting boiling water on the stove and glancing back at the living room. The man has manspread over the couch now, eyes t over your living room with inspecting eyes. Watching, following, tracking and assessing. Both what inhabits your measly flat and you.

He scoffs dryly.

“Name’s Simon, birdie. Whya wanna know? Government or summon?”

You swallow, immediately shaking your head, hands tensing on the pasta box. He sounds… skeptical. And any man that sounds skeptical of the desire to know someone’s name definitely has something to hide.

“No! No, no I just… well your win my house, and again, I hit you with my car, so um…”

Silence.

As a last resort, you reach for the remote, desperately clicking on the TV. As soon as the sounds of an interrupted news broadcast meets your ears, you relax. No more silence, a lot less awkward. You don’t bother changing the channel as the water boils, leaving the man, Simon, to stare at the news.

Fine by you.

He’s… somewhat entertained, though he’s hardly a guest, really. Just the man you hit with your car. The man whose piercing gaze, always darting back to you, sends little tremors down your spine. Spirals of sensation, unrecognizable. You hit this man with your car, and now all you can think about is what he makes you feel?

You quickly focus back on your pasta, Simon turning back to the news. He readjusts himself on the couch, fabric rustling fabric as the news drones on. He’s suddenly a lot more interested, and his dark, deep and gravelly voice surprises you.

“ya’ watch the news a lot, birdie?”

You look up, swallowing and shaking your head, a little bit too distracted to care about the news. Back to the pasta it is.

“N-no… not really. Um… heard there was a killer on the loose, I guess?”

shit. The guy is asking you about the news and you bring up a serial killer? You could face palm yourself it was actually something you did, but instead you just wince and silently curse yourself. The man was probably asking about sports, baseball. Politics even. And you had to bring up the mysterious serial killer on the loose…

“‘At’d be right, birdie. There is a killer on the loose, past couple’a weeks actually.”

Praise the lord and thank Christ, you could fall on your knees and practically become a nun with how hard you were thanking God right now. He wasn’t weird about it, in fact you could hear a hint of interest in his voice. Looks like the man was also a bit of a true crime geek.

you sigh, nodding as your shoulders relax a little. There, healthy conversation. You go to speak again, continue on about the killer, but his low voice cuts you off.

“Ya’ hear how he gets ‘is victims? Pretends to get hit by little lass’ cars… and when ‘he get out, he kills ‘em. Just a little cut to the throat, non much… they call ‘im Ghost.”

You freeze, pausing a little as something runs down your spine. A cold chill. A sudden, haunting feeling of something not right, something not good. An evil, lurking right behind you.

Because you could have sworn the man jumped in front of your car. You could have sworn you didn’t think he actually wanted to be hit.

You could have sworn you saw him push a black piece of fabric onto the pockets of his bloodied cargos, a fabric that looked an awful lot like the skull baclava Ghost has been reported wearing.

“…ya’ needa be more careful who ya’ bring home, birdie.”

[neochan]

FAULT LINE (M) - TEASER

PAIRING. ex!haechan x reader

GENRE. exes to lovers, toxic relationship, smut, plot of sorts, street racer au (barely)

WARNINGS. toxicity, smut mentions

WC. teaser is 1.1k

A. NOTE. so i needed a break from the pick me chronicles and stumbled across this type of hyuck characterization!

"where the fuck are you at?"

blearily blinking, you take a look around. when did you step outside? you think as hard as you can, but nothings coming too. you're drunk. very drunk.

people littered the front of the club - some waiting on ubers, others making out. but you - why were you out here? where were your friends?

"y/n. tell me where the fuck you are."

oh shit.

the phone pressed to your ear brings you back into a sort of semi-focus. you faintly remember crying to a random stranger in the bathroom about your recent break up. the poor girl had reassured you that everything would be okay, but you barely recall pushing her aside and mumbling something about calling your ex to make up.

that was until you had caught the attention of a guy at the bar and ended up doing green tea shots with him.

oh.

oh shit.

okay yeah, every memory was bombarding you now.

if the the still sticky cum dribbling down your thighs didn't serve as a reminder, than the memory of him pressing your hips against the porcelain sink while he fucked into you should have.

"y/n?"

and then you stepped outside to call your ex because. . . you felt bad? yeah you felt bad.

his voice was becoming more impatient with each passing silent second.

"hy-uck?" you hiccup.

he sighs, "god, i thought you passed out or something."

he didn't sound mad. had you already told him what you did? you can't remember.

"hyuck." the whimper trembles from your lips, "i need you."

"i know, that's why you called me." he seems to be fumbling around with something on his end, the muffled strain of his voice giving it away. "baby, where are you? i called you earlier but you didn't hit me back."

tears start to well in your eyes as you press against the brick wall of the club.

"i went out dancing and i did something bad. i-i'm sorry." your words are slurring together and it's becoming harder to breathe. "i didn't mean to, he- he just. . ." your voice trails off in a whisper.

"he? who the fuck are you with?" the jangle of keys sounds on the other line, a few seconds later accompanied by the slam of haechans front door. his temper is rising. he knows he should calm down. shit, he's probably scaring you bad right now, but the thought of you with another guy? you broke up two days ago. why the fuck would you be with another guy.

"i fucked up, hyuck."

"this isn't a game. send me your fucking address." the purr of his car engine rumbles through the phone.

shakily, you take the phone from your ear and send him your location.

"i'll be there in five." another sigh on his end... "if i see whoever this guy is, i'm not sure i'd be able to stop myself from killing him."

you hiccup, "yeah, i know."

four minutes and thirty eight seconds later a black ford shelby GT500 screeches to a halt against the curb.

through blurry eyes, you watch as grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt approach your slouched figure. his jaw is set, eyebrows drawn up - yet you feel nothing but relief.

"jesus, how much did you fucking drink?" he scoops you up in his arms to help you stand despite your wobbly frame. the earth is swimming in your frame with each step you take, but being pressed against his lean body grounds you. so does the cologne doting his chest - so familiar and warm, you press your nose into his t-shirt.

"you smell good." you hum.

"thanks." he peers down at you with a curiosity you don't notice. maybe the breakup affected you way more than he thought because he's never seen you this fucked up. "theres a curb right here, be careful."

deep in your muddled brain, you want to kiss him and thank him for coming to get you - for actually being worried about you for once.

but you don't.

instead, you climb into the rich leather interior of his car and settle back. it stings, being back in a place you once felt so comfortable in. tears pinprick the corner of your eyes for a quick second, but you blink them away. you just let hyuck reach across your chest and buckle you in.

"hyuck i'm sorry."

his gaze fall to yours, millions of emotions lurking deep in those luminous doe eyes. you look nearly innocent and he felt bad.

he swears underneath his breath, "your guilty conscious is gonna be the death of me."

a shaky hand reaches out to touch his cheek. a familiar gesture you can't yet get rid of - not when he's three inches away from you. "hyuck-"

"fuck this." he pulls back and cards a hand through his hair. "what were you doing with another guy?"

"we- we were doing shots and -"

"how many." he breathes.

"a couple? i don't know, maybe. . . maybe three?"

a forced huff leaves his chest, "three shots with a fucking stranger?"

"hyuck, i said i'm sorry-" your hands twist regrettably in your lap.

"yeah yeah, and then what?" he's leaning against the passenger doorframe, leg bouncing right next to you.

"and then he took me into the bathroom and we fucked."

a few seconds of silence. you try to face him. you can't. why did everything have to be so complicated.

"you fucked another guy but called me to come get you?" he sneers. he has to have lost all respect for you. there's no way he hasn't.

"i'm sorr-"

"i get it. you're sorry." he pushes off the doorframe and starts to pace. "what's his name?"

the lump in your throat grows when you realize you never caught his name. "i don't know."

"you don't know? so you fucked a complete stranger?" a laugh rips from his throat, "this is unbelievable."

"can we just go? please."

he ignores your question and presses you further, "what does he look like?"

"hyuck no. please, can we go."

each word is punctuated by the grit in his teeth. "what does he fucking look like."

it was futile to argue with hyuck when he got this way. he was gonna find out who this guy was either way.

"pink hair, silver button down, black pants, expensive watch. probably drinking green tea shots." the details of the night might have been distorted, but you could have picked out this handsome stranger in a line up.

"stay right here. i'll be back."

"no! hyu-" your cry is cut off by the slam of your door. anxiously, you watch his lithe figure move past the bouncer and into the club. a sinking feeling falls in the pit of your stomach.

what the fuck did you do.

ANOTHER NOTE. is this worth continuing? let me know if it is :)

[heathermason6060]

Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings PT.2

Warnings: Serial killer Daryl, Daryl kills two men who tried to hurt you, rough smut, human hunting, hunting reader through woods, Daryl is mean cause killer (but soft after) soft dubcon but NO noncon

Summary: Part two to the killer!Daryl fic. Reader finds out about Daryl's favorite pastime, and he hunts her down after she runs off.

Notes: Sorry this took so long I didn't have my adhd meds and I couldn't focus on it for more than five minutes at a time. Again, I tried to keep him as in character as possible.

Daryl was surprised, and a little annoyed by the fact his obsession with you had only grown after that. He'd hoped that he'd just fuck you and get over it, get back to his usual self and only occasionally need to go out and hunt. But you only made it worse, he found himself needing to go out hunting multiple times a week.

No one was complaining about his frequent outings though, each time he'd always come back with fresh kills and that was more food in their stomachs. Carol did make a comment about the fact she was cooking deer for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but he just retorted with some playful insult, and she'd shoot him one right back. 

Your presence had become scarce after that night, and over time Daryl seriously grew worried. Even though you were currently the object of his obsession, he still viewed you as someone important to him, despite the way you made him go insane. 

What was once an occasional late-night dick jerking session became an every night type deal, sometimes twice a night. The way you had acted like nothing ever happened between the two of you made it so much worse. 

He'd expected you to get attached after that, constantly trying to get him to follow you off into the woods again, but you were just your old self, sweet and friendly but reserved. 

Daryl fucking hated that. 

His frustration started making him sloppy, and desperate. He picked up his old habit of stalking you, always out of sight but always right behind you. He knew you were unaware, he'd taken every single precaution to avoid giving you even the slightest suspicion you were being watched. 

There was one day he had followed you into the small town down the road. He'd stick one street over, behind buildings and in deep alleys, only keeping you in his sight long enough to see which turn you'd make. 

It turned out his annoyance at your stupidity was warranted. You'd run into trouble, two men who'd been scavenging an old department store and saw you walking by. They'd followed you, just as he did, bewildered by your obliviousness, just as he was. 

He knew they had the worst intentions. Rob you, kidnap, assault, or even all three, but thankfully he never had to find out. Because apparently, you were smarter than you looked, or just very fucking lucky, because you'd lost them between a group of small shops. 

He watched as they tried to find you, stumped at you seeming to vanish in thin air, and he began hunting them instead. 

They were more aware of their surroundings than you had been with Daryl. They could sense him, even though they hadn't seen or heard him, they knew he was there. They quickly switched from predator to prey as they felt his presence, constantly looking over their shoulders and making attempts at getting away through alleys. 

He could practically taste their fear. Their whale eyes flashed around the street, looking at every shop window, every door, every trash can, and in their disoriented fear driven state they ran right into him. 

Daryl moved quickly, his hands grabbing a fistful of greasy brown hair and slamming it against the brick wall next to him. As the man fell over the second whirled to face him, ending up falling right onto Daryl's knife, a shout bursting from his horrified mouth. 

Drawing the blade from his stomach he drove it into his throat, muting any further screams. He then used his elbow to slide the man off his knife.

He watched as the man fell into shock, his hands grasping his throat in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Daryl simply watched, his eyes never leaving his face, soaking in the sensation of his hunger being satiated.

Once his legs finally gave out and he fell to his knees, Daryl turned his attention to the first man, who was slowly regaining consciousness. 

He bent down into a squat and slapped the flat of his blade against the man's cheek, forcing him back to his senses. 

The confusion in his narrowed eyes turned to wide unbridled anger. His lips pulled away from his teeth and he tried to sit upright, only to get a heavy boot to his chest, sending him smacking against the concrete. 

He didn't say anything, which was unusual for Daryl. They'd usually start with threats, insults, rage as they denied accepting the weight of their situation. Then they'd start trying to bargain with him, offer him food, guns, weapons, sometimes cars. And when Daryl wouldn't give them any type of response, only unnerving eye contact, they'd start begging. 

This man hadn’t said a damn word. He kept trying to get up, he'd scoot back away a few feet before Daryl's boot kicked him in the chest and sent him flailing down on his back again. 

“What do you want?” He finally broke the silent struggle, submitting and remaining on the concrete. 

Daryl looked down at the man with that same expressionless look on his face. After a few seconds of this he reached for the pack of cigarettes in his front shirt pocket, making the man beneath him dramatically flinch. 

As he lit the cigarette the man sputtered, trying to speak but unable to find the words. Daryl shoved the pack back in his pocket and took a deep pull, watching as he gave another attempt at getting away. 

This time he got a kick to the face. 

The pain from that alone sent the man into fight or flight. After he scrambled to his feet Daryl decided he'd had enough, and after grabbing the back of his shirt he plunged the knife into his back, drew it out, and sunk it back in in a different spot. 

Over and over he did this.

He left the man rolling on his back on the ground, his once gray tank top soon turning a dark red. 

In the hopes of maybe holding his urges off for longer, Daryl gave a few more stabs to the chest before swiping his knife clean on the dying man's jeans. He slipped it back in his belt and wiped his face with the back of his hand, only making the blood smear worse.

Daryl left the men there and made his way back to Alexandria, taking a deep and satisfying pull from his cigarette before the sight of your red sweater caught his eye.

He stopped in his tracks when his brain processed the image of you, his hand holding his cigarette a few inches from his lips. He felt like someone just pointed a remote at him and pressed pause, the only movement being the smoke curling up and away from his face.

You looked about the same. 

You had a look of shock on your face, but not the type you'd expect someone to have after witnessing a murder like that. You'd seen your fair share of people being killed, you'd had to do it yourself a few times before, but that was always a kill or be killed scenario. 

Those two men weren't trying to kill Daryl. 

You'd caught sight of them in the reflection of a store window and knew they were sneaking up on you, so you'd darted behind an old coffee shop and climbed up the ladder. Once you were sure you'd lost them you climbed down, walked past two shops and around a corner just in time to see Daryl repeatedly kicking the man to the ground, behaving like more of a leopard playing with mice. 

You'd watched the entire thing stretch on for what felt like hours, your eyes following every plunge of the knife, stabbing everywhere but the one place that would instantly dispatch that man. 

Neither of you moved for a few moments. You only finally reacted when a chunk of ash fell from Daryl's cigarettes, watching it as it floated to the ground, looking back up to his face when it landed with a puff on the sidewalk. 

“What was that?”

The innocent tone of your voice felt like he was the one who got stabbed in the chest. 

Daryl always had a perfect way of killing. He'd play his role as some dumbass redneck who looked super easy to take advantage of, and they fell for it every time. They'd try to rob him or attack him and only then did he react, grappling them with movements he'd perfected to the point of it being an art. He'd always made sure that if there was the slightest chance of Rick, Carol, or anyone in his group somehow seeing, it could be read as necessary self defense. 

But there was no way to explain away what he'd just done right out in the open, in broad daylight. Part of him wished it was Rick who'd seen him, not you, 

Rick was no stranger to the deep satisfaction killing bad people brought. But you? He remembered once back at the prison you'd been torn up for days after having to kill someone who'd been attacking you. And that was a quick bullet to the head to a man who wanted you dead. 

Finally, he took the cigarette back to his lips and took a pull before speaking. “They were gonna do worse to you.” 

You knew he wasn't lying. But by the look on your face you didn't accept that, that wasn't the real reason why. 

You inhaled deeply through your nose and looked off into the distance somewhere, Daryl could see the wheels turning behind your furrowed brow. He tried to remember all the excuses he used to think of when he was in the shower, running down every worst case scenario. 

“How many times have you done that?” Your unspecified question had him unsure of how to respond. You blinked in frustration before elaborating. “Killed someone you didn't need to like that. All emotionless.” 

“Lost count.” The boldness of his answer made you scoff.  He stepped forward till he was inches away, maintaining steadily intense eye contact. “You gonna do somethin’ bout it?” 

You weren't expecting him to challenge you so blatantly like that. Your jaw dropped as if you were about to speak, go off on him or lose your shit, but suddenly, it just didn't matter anymore. Maybe it was your brain trying to gaslight you into just moving away from the tense situation, but you closed your mouth and nodded once before turning on your heel. 

Daryl prepared himself for some speech about morals in the apocalypse but you spoke before he had the chance.

“We should get back, Carol's making soup for dinner.”

That night you had successfully rationalized what you'd seen Daryl doing(gaslit yourself). Those men were evil, if they had the upper hand or maybe more numbers they would've done worse than what Daryl did. Even though it wasn't a quick death, it was nothing compared to what they would've done to you. 

In the back of your mind though, you knew that wasn't the main reason for what he did to them. He'd shifted into a completely different being then, it wasn't human, or animal. He had become almost soulless, his actions so mechanical it looked like a set of commands he'd been wired to do. The way every single move was so calculated, the way he knew what they'd do before they did it, down to the way he cleaned the blood from his knife on their clothes. 

Your blood ran cold when you remembered that first night in the woods with Abraham and the others. The way you felt his presence behind you even though you never heard or saw him. That must have been what those men felt, the primal instinct that they were being watched. 

You felt stupid for thinking he was following you that night because he had a thing for you. You really didn't want to believe he was capable of hurting you, but that was hard when you could vividly remember how tight he squeezed your neck and the way he looked into your eyes when he did it. 

If you didn't have a good reason to avoid him before, you sure as hell did now. 

But you really didn't want to. 

Every night you'd think about it again, the specific details becoming blurry as you imagined him doing it differently. Your heart would speed up when you'd imagine yourself in their place, walking through the woods and becoming aware that you were being watched, your fear only growing worse when you'd look around and wouldn't see anyone, but the feeling of him drawing closer persisting nonetheless-

Your stomach dropped when you realized your body had reacted differently to the idea of that then you had normally. Your heart rate was fast, like usual, but instead of anxiety spreading in your chest you felt a deep flipping sensation in your core. 

It had been a few days since you saw him. You knew he was always there, inciting a deep and unsettling paranoia in you. 

Rick invited the inner group over for dinner and drinks. 

You smiled as he handed you a glass of red wine, that same sly smirk he always had for you on his face. You were standing against the wall of his living room while the later arrivals finished their meal in the dining room. 

“You've been quiet.” Rick's voice had once been enough to soothe any anxiety that you might've had. But now it did little, akin to the background humming of indifferent frogs and crickets. 

His voice called your name and you forced yourself to look up to his face, nearly crying at the sight. You wished you could tell him everything, weep into his arms and have him shush away your worries, explain it all away and go back to the way things were. 

His expression grew serious then. “You okay?”

“Have you ever…” You glanced around to make sure there were no eyes on you. Everyone was minding their own business, chattering happily as they enjoyed Rick's spaghetti and wine. 

“Killed someone you didn't have to kill?” Your quiet voice had his posture stiffening. He shifted his feet as he nodded, mulling over your words before he spoke. 

“We've all done things we're ashamed of. If it's in the past, let it rot there. Nothin' you can do to change it.”

“Have you?”

It took him a while to answer. He inhaled deeply through his nose before leaning in closer to you, his tone darker. “Why are you asking me?”

“Someone here did that. Two men. They were bad men, but… they were trying to run away.”

“Then they did the right thing. Those men could've easily come back with more people.”

You sighed, shifting closer to him. By now you were only inches away from each other, and you could smell the cologne he'd put on before dinner. “He looked like he liked doing it. It wasn't… quick.”

Rick eyed you for a few silent moments. 

“Daryl.” It wasn't a question, he already knew the answer. You looked up to him, your eyes wide and worried now, but he settled you with a firm glare. 

“Sometimes a man does things that you don't need to worry about.” He spoke, his voice low and gravelly. “All you need to know is he protects you, and keeps your belly full. Alright?” 

You didn't know how to feel about learning that Rick knew. He didn't know the full extent, no one did, no one knew about the trophies and the hunting, or the meticulous planning that went into Daryl's killing. 

“Alright.” For some reason, it sets you at ease. If your leader said it was fine, then it had to be fine with you.

Rick's expression softened and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder to give you a comforting squeeze. You melted into his touch and closed your eyes, trying your best to ignore the burning on the side of your face from the hunter in the corner of the room.

 

The air was unusually cold.

You tried to steady your breathing as you walked through the familiar forest outside Alexandria. 

You couldn't feel him yet, but in your bones you could sense it, almost like he had a tracking tag on him that would make your heart race faster and faster as he drew closer. 

If you concentrated hard enough you could imagine him in real time, right about now he'd just be getting into the woods, picking up your tail-

The bolt of anxiety that went through your chest at the image had you picking up your pace, walking faster down the familiar path that eventually led to a river. 

It wasn't long before you felt it. You looked over your shoulder at the scene behind you. The forest floor, covered in dead leaves, the thin trees with gray bark that were randomly spaced out, and nothing else. Your eyes burned as you tried to see as far off into the distance as possible. Nothing. You couldn't even hear the normal wildlife, no birds, crickets, cicadas. 

You turned back around and pulled the sleeves of your black turtleneck down over your cold wrists. 

The feeling grew stronger as you walked on. The sun was setting, the normal bright yellow light fading into a gentler orange. 

It started with the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. You'd turn around and see the same nothingness as before, only this time not being able to see as far due to the setting sun. 

The overwhelming urge to run overcame you and you looked over your shoulder again, your stomach falling ten stories when you saw nothing. That was worse than seeing him lurking behind. At least if you could see him, you'd know where he was. He could be anywhere. Your breath trembled and you resisted the screaming in your body to run, but the sound of a stick cracking had you breaking into a jog. 

He was close now, you could feel it. You didn't turn around anymore, you couldn't, if you once again were met with nothing you'd start losing your sanity. 

Soon it would be too dark to see. The idea of trying to hide from him in the pitch black forest had you running, and you didn't stop until it was too dark for you to do so without tripping. 

You caught your breath behind a large oak and waited. The silence was starting to get to you. Where the hell were all the birds? The cicadas that are always screaming this time of year? 

Where the hell were the walkers?

It was dark now. You looked ahead of you and felt like you'd fallen into a deep freezing cold lake, your vision had dramatically decreased to around five yards in front of you. It was getting dark so fast, the silence only seemed to be growing louder, you began to doubt yourself, you were way in over your head, what were you thinking? You were the only person alive who saw Daryl Dixon stab a man to death, a man that was actively trying to escape, just because of what he might have done, and YOU thought it was a good idea to play hide and seek in the woods with him? 

You waited too long. By the time you heard the distinct sound of featherlight footsteps it was too dark, you couldn't see anything. When you looked up you couldn't even see the moon or any stars, were the trees too thick? You didn't see any clouds that day, your head spun and you tripped over your feet the second you tried to step forward. 

Adrenaline surged through your body at the animalistic fear of being vulnerable around an unseen danger. You scrambled to your feet and froze, your eyes as wide as they could be in hopes of being able to see better. 

To your left you could barely see the backdrop of the dark blue sky behind the trees. You turned in a circle, and tried to look back to the sky, but in your turning you'd completely disoriented yourself. The way you'd come was just as lost as what was once your left. 

You felt a coldness run deep in your bones when you realized you had no idea which way Daryl was. 

If this was some innocent game of hide and seek you'd complain about the unfair advantage he had over you, most of his life he'd spent out in woods just like these. 

In a last ditch effort of self preservation you remained still, kept your eyes open and unblinking, and listened. 

Nothing. You couldn't hear a single fucking thing. If not for the sound of your own breathing you'd wonder if you'd gone deaf without even realizing it. You raised your hand in front of your face and blinked hard a few times, trying to will your eyes to become as good as Daryl's. 

Time ticked by no matter what you did. Without anything for you to hear or see it became harder to keep your balance, and your arms slowly lifted from your side to steady yourself. 

Your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft. You felt a brief tingle of confusion before all at once your heart leapt into your throat and your stomach dropped to your feet when you came to the horrifying realization of what you just touched.

Fingers. 

You snatched your hand away like you'd been stung, and with how fast you did it, you spun and fell to your knees. Your body couldn't react quick enough, you could hear leaves from what sounded like every direction, and you froze. 

Was that even Daryl?

You hadn't even seen him for sure, you had no proof whatsoever, not even a hint to go by, those could be walkers. For all you knew, Daryl could be back in Alexandria skinning a deer for dinner, clueless to your absence. 

You felt a different kind of fear as your mind dug yourself deeper and deeper. All you had on you was a comically small machete and a pathetic little flashlight. You'd imagined this going very differently, which was your own damn fault. You should've learned by now you couldn't predict anything about Daryl. He'd shown you that time and time again. 

You were too busy thinking about how stupid you were to notice the silence was back. But once you did, you forced yourself to your feet, and pushed on. Your arms reached out blindly in front of you as you took baby steps, trying not to gasp each time your fingertips grazed a tree. 

It took everything in you not to scream when you felt it again. A hand, but instead of reaching out to meet your outstretched hand, it ghosted up the small of your back. You whirled around and reached out, desperately trying to grab a sleeve, a finger, anything to pull yourself to, like the ladder in a swimming pool. 

Being met with empty black air almost brought you to tears. You lurched forward, trying to predict his position, but just as silently as he arrived he had sunk out of reach. 

You were ready to beg. You were wrong, you didn't want this, you were so fucking scared.

Just as you began to work up the courage to speak, your feet flew out from under you as you were shoved in the chest, hard. A dull pain shot through your ass and you kicked your feet in the dirt in front of you, pushing yourself away from his direction. But he was five steps ahead, his fingers grazing the top of your scalp. 

You yelped, spinning around to get up on your knees, not even managing to get one foot on the ground before you were shoved back in the dirt again. 

Something about that final push set you into fight or flight, so you got to your feet and ran. 

Daryl was right about your ridiculous luck. You made it pretty far before you ran into a tree, smacking into it with the edge of your shoulder so hard it spun you around again. Once again you had no idea which direction he was in so you got up, and tried again. 

Apparently he'd grown tired of toying with you. You'd managed to run about twelve feet when your only information of his location was the sound of heavy footsteps running after you. 

The realization he was fucking chasing you, full on running, terrified you so badly you found yourself unable to form thoughts anymore, your brain turned off as your body did everything possible to survive. 

You managed to surprise him. Instead of continuing straight you veered to the left, which would have been a very impressive feat had you not run into another tree. This one was huge, and thankfully you had slowed down enough that you didn't hurt yourself running into it, but it did scare the fuck out of you. 

You used your hands on the trunk to guide you, shimmying around the edge until you were pressed on the other side, your back flush against it.  You held your breath and waited, not daring to make a single sound. 

That feeling happened again. He was looking at you, but you didn't know where. Your eyes were utterly useless but you still looked frantically in every direction, only being met with utter blackness. 

There was nothing you could do. A small part of you felt relieved, at least you didn't have to try so hard anymore. Slowly, you let out your lungful of air, trying to be quiet. But it wasn't getting out fast enough and your lips opened against your will, causing you to shudder out a terrified breath. 

He had been two feet in front of you for a while now. His eyes, although not superhuman, had over time adjusted enough to find his way through dark woods like these. He could see the outline of nearby trees, and the figure of your body pressed up against one. 

The silence had quickly become something the two of you were extremely used to. So when there was a sudden shift in the air followed by wind shifting the leaves of trees above you, it startled you both. 

The sound of leaves moving right in front of you sets you off again. You prepare to make a break to the left, but unbeknownst to you, Daryl could see the way you angled your body, your right leg braced behind you. 

He smirked and threw out his foot right as you bolted forward. Your legs flew out from under you and you landed hard on your stomach, the air being knocked from your lungs. 

Daryl watched as you tried unsuccessfully to breathe again, your lungs spasming before finally snapping back to normal. You greedily gulped in air and weakly attempted to roll over on your side. 

He crouched next to you and reached out, using the back of his knuckle to brush hair from your forehead. You jerked violently, your hands flying up to try and fight him away. That made him chuckle, and you felt a whole new rage of emotions after having his identity confirmed. 

It really was Daryl. If that was a good thing or a bad thing you weren't sure of yet, but at least you knew for sure it was him. 

“What'd you think was gonna happen, huh?” He muttered, his hand grabbing your wrist and yanking it from your face. “Go off in the woods alone again, start runnin’ in the dark, ain't nobody tell you runnin’ just makes things wanna chase you?”

The more he spoke the more aggressive he became, his other hand latching onto your other wrist to hold you firmly in place. It didn't stop you from struggling, which only made his prey drive even more active. 

“What are you gonna do?” Your voice and the way it trembled made his upper lip twitch. He stared down at your face, another sick grin forming when he saw you grow more and more terrified the longer the silence stretched on. 

“Daryl, please.” 

The grin fell from his face then, something about the way you sounded like you were about to cry setting his teeth on edge. He let go of your wrists and ran the back of his knuckles down the side of your face, his touch tender. He saw you relax a little at that and he leaned down, brushing his lips so lightly against yours you could've mistaken it for the wind.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You breathed and nodded softly; the fear of dying being replaced by a delicious different kind of terror. This could easily become an addiction.

His gentle actions slowly hardened as his fingertips trailed down from your cheek to your jaw, the pressure increasing until he reached your throat, where his hand slipped into that perfect fit around your neck. 

“I think you need a little wakeup call princess, you don't get to tease me like this and change your mind cause you get scared.” He said the last word like an insult, as if it was a ridiculous fuck up on your end. 

“Shit don't work like that anymore.” His tone took this edge of meanness, something that made your lower stomach flip. 

Your chest fluttered with your shaky breathing, and you nodded, filling him with a deep satisfaction. He squeezed his hand around your neck with no warning, no slow increase in pressure, just an immediate white knuckled squeeze. 

Right as you saw little flashes of white at the edges of your vision he relaxed his hand, but he kept it there like some kind of warning. 

He released his hand and replaced it with something cold, your mouth dried instantly when you realized it was his knife. 

“Get up.” 

You slowly stood with him, making sure to let him guide where your head went, not wanting to risk getting nicked. 

Then it was like he disappeared. 

You waited a few moments, your eyes flickering around the different shades of black. 

A bright orange glow had your pupils dilating painfully. After being in pitch black darkness for so long the small flame from his lighter felt like staring into the sun. 

He looked terrifying then. His cigarette between his lips and his cheeks dipped in as he pulled in to help the tobacco light. His eyes flicked up to you for less than a second before he snapped the lighter closed and you were left with an orange dot where his face once was. 

You stood in the same spot, not daring to breathe, your eyes locked on the orange dot as it moved from his lips to down at his side. You weren't sure what he was expecting of you, so you remained standing as long as he felt like torturing you. 

A minute later the orange orb vanished with a hiss as he put it out on his boot. You heard the light tap of it falling in the dirt, where he proceeded to grind it with his shoe. You deeply missed that orange dot, it gave you something to focus on in the black void. 

His hands were rough as he grabbed your shoulders and turned you around. You gasped at the sudden roughness, your heart jumping after standing in silent nothingness for so long. The knife was back on your throat, his other hand slipping up under your turtleneck. 

“What you saw the other day,” His breath was hot against the shell of your ear as his hand groped and squeezed your sides, growing more firm as he slid it up to your breasts. “Can't have anyone knowin’ ‘bout it.” 

Your first instinct was to nod, but the blade against the side of your throat made you think twice. “Mhm. I know.” You hummed out your anxious promise, your hands clinging onto his forearm for dear life. 

“I don't think you do.” His voice was calm and steady, the opposite of the angry way he pinched your nipple. Your whine caught in your throat and you clenched your teeth, baring them in a pained grimace, much like a submissive animal.

“You're a stupid bitch,” Those words held so much fiery emotion despite how cool and collected he sounded. You swallowed a whimper as he went on, “but you ain't dumb enough to go and open your mouth.” 

He didn't appreciate your lack of response, you'd been frozen from the way his hand had dipped under the waistband of your jeans, fingers barely grazing your panties. 

“Makin’ me think I might be wrong.” He growled and pressed the knife firmer against your neck, and you immediately snapped out of it.

“You're not. I won't, I promise.” Your ass moved against the hard dick beneath his jeans, making him hiss out a curse. 

In this game the two of you played, he had a level of excitement and vigor that was previously unknown to him. He rested his forehead on the back of your head and inhaled deeply, holding the flowery scent of your shampoo in his lungs like it’d get him high.

He loved the way you played this role so perfectly. Growing up watching slasher movies through puberty wasn't the sole reason for his degeneracy, but it played a large role. Drifting around selling drugs with Merle to unsavory people added to it too. 

Daryl finally dipped his fingers under your panties, taking his sweet time rubbing circles in the skin all the way down to your slit. When he felt how wet you were he sucked in a gasp before he could stop himself. You'd been working that up for a while. By the way your panties were soaked, he'd guess you got all worked up the second you slipped out of Alexandria.

Your grip on his forearm tightened as he stroked your clit, swirling his finger around a few times before dipping down through your folds. 

Without meaning to you held your breath in anticipation, begging to any higher power to have him go easy on you. You couldn't take another night like before, especially not in the middle of the woods. You strongly believed that when he finished with you and saw the state you were in, he'd just leave you to find your own way back when you stopped being a pathetic mess. 

Your prayers were answered and he angled his hand in a way that allowed him to push his middle finger inside you, your walls greedily squeezing around him. Now that you were pretty sure he wouldn't actually kill you, you allowed yourself to enjoy every drop of pleasure he'd give you. 

You moaned shamelessly when he shocked you by not just driving it in and out, but he fucking curled his finger.

“You bring any walkers over here and I'll leave your ass in the dark.” His tone held a venomous bite, but you were fairly certain he wouldn't actually do that. You weren't taking any chances though so you pressed your lips tightly together and tried to steady your breathing through your nose.

His head bumped gently against yours as he moved his attention to the top of your ear, his lips warm against the cold skin there. You nearly crumpled in his arms at the feeling, and when his tongue traced the tip of your ear you physically shuddered against his chest. He trailed a few kisses from your ear to the back of your neck, giving into his impulsives and sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. 

It took every ounce of concentration to remain quiet. He couldn't tease you like this, do every little trick in the foreplay handbook, and expect you to keep quiet? 

His finger curled again the second time, sending a jolt through your core and down your legs. When he felt your nails dig into his forearm he nudged your head again with his, tilting you so he could press his cheek against yours. 

If not for his hand down the front of your jeans and the knife he had on your neck, you would've passed for a sappy couple posing for pictures. 

Just as you'd relaxed against his chest, your head tilting back to rest against his collarbone, he started curling his finger at a consistent pace. You whined deep in your throat, your eyes squeezing shut against the frustration of pleasure, but not enough. 

His hand pulled out from your jeans so suddenly you actually made a genuine whiney noise, already frustrated and impatient. The knife returned to its former deep pressure, immediately setting you straight. 

He popped open the buttons on your pants and pulled down one side, bending his knees to pull them down over your ass, making you awkwardly twist and bend with him. 

Your body reacted subliminally to the sound of his buckle clinking as he unbuckled his belt, your back arching to press yourself closer against him. His breathing had ever so slightly gotten heavier while he worked to take his dick out, his mouth sending hot puffs of air against your ear. Your pussy throbbed at the feeling, and even more so when you felt his swollen tip bob between your legs after he freed it from his pants. 

You were lucky Daryl wasn't in the mood to take longer than necessary to fuck you. It was a bit selfish on his part, he no longer cared about your pleasure, instead choosing to solely make himself cum with your pussy. Made no difference to him if you came or not. The wind carried the faint smell of rain and he could hear the beginning rumble of thunder in the distance. 

He spit on his fingertips and slathered it over his tip, tugging on his dick a few times before guiding himself to your hole. Just as greedy as before, he pushed inside you, slapping his hand over your mouth to muffle your whines of discomfort.

Daryl's downstairs department was nothing to make light of, he was blessed with a heavy dick that was the perfect length to fill you completely so not a single millimeter of space was untouched. 

But Christ, the girth, he didn't have the type of dick he could just slide in you without giving you a stretch that burned. Unfortunately for you, he didn't really care that much, it went away after a minute and didn't feel like a big deal to him. 

You groaned into his palm, your eyes rolling back into your head when he immediately set a rough pace. The angle he fucked you in, standing upright with your ass stuck out for him, it had his tip slamming into that perfect spot every single thrust. 

The knife suddenly fell from his fingers, landing on your boot with a thump, but before you could react his hand quickly replaced it. His left arm wrapped around your waist, using it to keep your hips angled in towards him. With his right hand he squeezed your neck, gradually increasing pressure until he felt your hands on his arm start to loosen their grip. 

He released the pressure, the oxygen and blood returning to your brain to give you an amazing head rush. He waited until he felt your nails dig back into his skin before squeezing again, repeatedly bringing you to the brink of unconsciousness before letting you come crashing back down to earth. 

With the arm he had around your waist he moved his fingers over your lower stomach, feeling around for a moment before pressing the flat of his hand down right where he felt his dick. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp at the feeling, wondering where the hell he learned that, you knew he hadn't fucked anyone ever since you'd known him. And with the way he was when you first met him in Atlanta, you seriously doubt he was experienced enough to know how to do something like that. 

Daryl was a lot more simple than you were trying to figure out, he just liked the way he could feel his dick moving if he pressed down hard enough and fucked you deep enough.  The fact it felt amazing was just a lucky side effect for you. 

The next time he started choking you he squeezed a little tighter, the feeling of your throat shifting under his palm had him growling curses into the crook of your neck. Your back arched harder, your body desperate to feel him deeper. Him fucking you fast and hard, coupled with the way his grip on your neck kept cutting off blood to your head, suddenly became way too much and you came around his dick, your walls squeezing and holding onto his length with all its might. 

Daryl felt his eyes roll back in his head and his dick twitch at the feeling. “That's it girl.” He muttered out encouragement, knowing he needed you to hold out a few more minutes. If you got all whiney and weak like last time he'd have to stuff his shirt in your mouth. He was already lucky enough that somehow there were no walkers nearby, he couldn't take the chance to try and push his luck. 

His encouragement worked, your body melting against him as you soaked in the rare praise. 

“Yeah, that's it. Atta girl.” His voice was so low and deep you could feel it vibrate in his chest against the top of your back, sending little sparks of pleasure through your core. 

He picked up the pace, his hand falling from your neck to grab both sides of your hips. Carefully, and slowly, he guided you down to your knees, keeping his dick inside you as you both knelt in the dirt. He put his hands on your upper back and pushed, forcing your arms out from under you so the side of your face was on the ground. 

The feeling of his large rough hands pushing your back down had your stomach tightening again, and it only got worse when he shifted your ass higher up against his pelvis. He was back to his earlier pace in no time, thrusting hard and fast, one hand still pushing down on your back while the other did the same to the side of your head. 

It got harder to keep quiet the longer he went on. When he suddenly grabbed your ass and held it tight against him, forcing his dick in deeper, you came unexpectedly, breathing so hard it sent the dirt next to your face poofing away. You clenched down on him again, your back arching obscenely, and rode the dizzy waves of your orgasm, quickly forcing him to have one of his own. 

Daryl spit out a growl and slammed into you a few last times before he came, his grip on your hips keeping you immobile as he emptied himself inside you. Even after you twitched from the last bit of your orgasm and started moving to get up, he grabbed hold of your hair and smashed your head back down. Maybe it was a power move, because he held you down like that for a while, his dick buried so deep inside you his cum wasn't able to trickle out yet. 

You waited what felt like five minutes before you spoke up, your voice hoarse from all the heavy mouth breathing. “Daryl?”

He barely let you finish the L in his name before he cut you off. “Shut the hell up.” He muttered, his heavy hand still pressed against your face and the other holding your hips tightly against his. 

He would've been content to stay like that for a while, just to torture you some more, maybe keep you there under him until his dick got hard again. But the rumble of thunder was getting closer, and he didn't feel like getting caught out in a storm. 

When he finally released his grip on your hair and waist you sighed in relief, lifting your face from the ground to brush the dirt from your cheek. He pulled his softened dick from you and groaned when he felt the cool air on his sensitive skin. 

You were dreading getting up and the walk home when you heard the familiar hissing and groaning of a nearby walker. You pulled up your pants as slowly and quietly as humanly possible, your eyes still trying with all their might to see in the dark forest. 

Daryl clicked on a flashlight for a split second, just long enough to catch the location of the walker.

In a bright white flash you saw three of them about ten yards out. Your moaning must've attracted them, and your stomach twisted when you remembered Daryl threatening to leave you there if you drew any walkers over. 

A large warm hand slipped into yours and he helped you to your feet. It was so kind that you were almost more concerned with the action than the fact you were in pitch black darkness with three walkers heading your way. 

He slung his crossbow over from his back and clicked the flashlight on again, only for a split second. They weren't much closer. He took them out, clicked the light again, and saw a handful more far, far back. You could definitely outwalk them. You sighed in relief and wiped the dirt from your palms and face. 

“Can you walk?” He whispered as he slung his weapon back over his shoulder, slipping his flashlight in his front jean pocket. 

“Yeah, I'm fine.” You whispered in return and took his hand again, trying not to let silly childish emotions start clouding your mind. You weren't some teen girl with her first real boyfriend, you were a woman holding the hand of a cold man who killed for pleasure, a man that just hunted you through the woods like you were some fox or cougar. And he was freakishly good at it. 

He led you back to Alexandria in a way that harshly contrasted his normal exterior. His hand was gentle but firm and he didn't rush you, not once. Even when you snuck back through the back wall he stayed with you, albeit letting go of your hand. He took you to your house, made sure you got in safe, and did something at the door that had your heart pounding even more than when he chased you. 

Daryl looked at you for a moment, uncertainty clear on his face. You could tell he was thinking of hundreds of different things at once, and it kind of looked like he was nervous. 

He leaned in and placed his open hand at the base of your neck. Not squeezing, not grabbing or clenching, he just barely cupped your skin, his thumb tracing against the red and purple marks from his hands and teeth. You'd covered the last ones up with makeup, you could do the same with these. 

You opened your mouth to reassure him of this but he leaned in, and kissed your forehead. 

Then he pressed his forehead against yours. Your heart was racing painfully at this point. You watched as he looked into your eyes for a second before he closed them. You followed suit and closed your eyes, savoring the intense affection. It was so strange to you. You couldn't remember the last man or woman you'd been like this with. And the fact it was Daryl Dixon pressing his forehead against yours, right in the doorframe of your front door…

You decided then you didn't give a shit what he did for fun. You didn't give a shit if he felt the same way either. Maybe you could delude yourself into thinking that one day. You decided right then you'd walk through hell and back to get just a taste of this feeling again. 

The feeling of his hand unfolding yours had you opening your weary eyes. You looked down and blinked, seeing a small white dot in the palm of your hand. He drew away from you then, muttering a quick ‘found this earlier’ before fading down the stairs and up the street to his house. 

You rubbed your finger over your pearl earring and smiled. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial

[tinyshyteacup]

Tw: fighting, mentions of blood

Part 1 Part 2

Screams and Scotch - Part 3

Chibs had seen his fair share of ugly in this world. He’d seen men do dark, unforgivable things.

But this?

This was different.

That girl—Some selfish prick had tried to take her life out of spite, and that? It wasn’t just about handling it.

And as he walked out of the hospital, his jaw tight and his hands curled into fists, one thing was certain, that wasn’t something Chibs could let slide.

The clubhouse was quieter than usual, but the tension in the air was thick. The only sounds were the occasional clink of beer bottles, the murmur of low conversation, and the distant hum of motorcycles outside.

Chibs stood by the bar, jaw tight, fingers tapping idly against the wooden surface. He wasn’t drinking. Not yet. His mind was elsewhere.

Across the room, Jax leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. The younger mans blue eyes were sharp, but there was skepticism there too.

“I get that you wanna handle this, man,” Jax said, voice even, “but it’s not club business.”

Chibs’ jaw ticked.

Clay exhaled heavily from where he sat at the head of the table. “The kid’s a scumbag, but we got bigger shit to deal with right now.”

Bobby shrugged, glancing at Chibs. “Ain’t like he’s a rival or some cartel prick.”

Tig, sitting to the side, grinned. “Yeah, but you know Chibs. He’s got that knight-in-shining-armor shit buried deep under all that Scottish rage.”

The room rumbled with low chuckles.

Chibs didn’t smile.

Instead, he reached into his kutte, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and took his time lighting one.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Controlled.

“He tried to kill her.”

The laughter died instantly.

Jax frowned. “What?”

Chibs took a drag, exhaling slow. “That wasn’t just some reckless asshole goin’ too fast. He meant to crash that bike. Said if he couldn’t have her, no one could.”

Silence.

Bobby muttered a curse under his breath. Clay’s expression darkened. Tig leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

Jax stared at Chibs for a long moment before shaking his head. “Jesus Christ.”

Chibs tapped ash into an old beer bottle. “Aye.”

Another pause. The mood in the room had shifted entirely.

Jax exhaled, rubbing his hand down his face. “Alright,” he muttered. “So we handle it.”

Chibs met his eyes, something unspoken passing between them. A silent agreement.

Jax nodded once. “Tell me where to find the bastard.”

Derek wasn’t hard to find.

He was holed up in a dingy little apartment outside of town, the kind of place that reeked of stale beer and cheap cologne.

The first thing he saw when he opened his door was the barrel of a gun.

The first thing he felt was Chibs’ fist slamming into his jaw.

The guy went down like a sack of bricks, groaning, hands scrambling for the floor. Before he could get his bearings, Tig was on him next, yanking him up by the back of his shirt and shoving him against the wall.

“Dumb move, man,” Tig murmured, grin sharp. “Real dumb.”

Derek blinked rapidly, disoriented. “W-what the hell?”

Jax stepped into view, shaking his head. “You know, I was gonna let this slide,” he admitted, almost casually. “Thought you were just some reckless asshole who took things too far.” He cocked his head. “But then we found out what really happened.”

Derek paled. “I—”

Chibs’ boot collided with his ribs before he could finish.

He gasped, crumpling slightly, but Tig held him up.

Chibs crouched down, cigarette still dangling from his lips. He tilted his head, studying the bruises already forming on the guy’s face.

“Ye thought ye could just off her?” he murmured, voice deceptively soft. “Make it look like an accident?”

Derek coughed, panting. “I—I didn’t—”

Chibs grabbed him by the throat, dragging him up so their faces were inches apart.

“Lyin’ ain’t gonna help ye now, boy.”

Derek’s eyes darted frantically between the men. “Look, I—she—she was mine!” he spat desperately. “She—”

Chibs slammed his head against the wall.

The sound was sickening.

Derek let out a choked noise, body going slack for a second. Blood dripped from his forehead, and his breathing turned ragged.

Jax exhaled sharply. “We done talkin’?”

Chibs took one last drag from his cigarette, then flicked it away.

“Aye,” he muttered. “We’re done.”

The next few minutes were a blur of fists, boots, and blood.

And when it was over, Derek was nothing more than a broken, bleeding heap on the ground.

Chibs wiped his hands on his jeans, gaze hard. “Next time I hear ye so much as breathe in her direction,” he said quietly, “I’ll make sure ye stop breathin’ altogether.”

Derek whimpered, barely conscious.

Tig patted him on the cheek. “See? Could’ve been worse.” He grinned. “We could’ve let Happy have a turn.”

Chibs straightened, adjusting his kutte. His heart was still hammering, adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he ignored it.

He’d done what needed to be done.

He hadn’t done this for the club. For business.

He’d done this for her.

God help the next bastard who tried to hurt her.

And now?

Now, he had someone to check on.

[writers-advocate]

newborn | l.h.

description: logan, for the first time in a very long time, is entirely unsure of what he’s doing [requested]

cw: self doubt(?), fluff [just a drabble]

logan has plenty of experience with kids.

no he hasn’t dealt with them all two hundred something years of his life, but he’s grown accustomed to their needs, behaviors. he can read people. he can read kids the best. they’re so honest and open and it makes his job so much easier.

not newborns, you have to be the gentle reminder that slams into him like a brick wall.

“done all of it. everything i could possibly- our kid doesn’t like me. i know ‘em-” his thoughts don’t even seem to fully finish while he mutters. to himself? to you? your already tired smile turns apologetic when the little bundle’s cries grow louder, and logan’s frown deepens.

“not newborns, lo. it’s different, you know that. doesn’t hate you.” his hands give way for yours as you take the wailing infant and rock gently, cooing down at those grabby little fingers at first, then shift to a soft hum while the cries settle and dissipate. he watches in near awe, but soon enough, it softens into something you can’t quite read. your humming… the way you brought him back every night. suddenly he can’t find it in himself to be upset that you immediately accomplished what he could not.

but his worry rises. by the time you do look at him again, you can see it in the divot between his brows, hand over his mouth and a sigh that pulls a rumble from his chest. “promise you m’tryin-“

“lo. lo, honey, it’s okay.” he notes how your attention divides easily to tend to both their needs. hand cradling the baby’s head, arm keeping the now quiet little one tucked to your chest -he can handle that right? he should be able to handle that- your sweet words take the place of his thoughts, and like his pride and joy in your arms, he calms, though the furrow doesn’t leave his brow. you continue, “you just need a little practice.”

“s’your first time too.”

“sure. but little lo here met me first.” you tease, reaching out to push on his shoulder and he so easily sits back on the couch with you, arm around you, big hand cradling yours as you continue rocking gently. a yawn makes you pause and he readjusts subtly so you’re half laying against him without even realizing, eyes drooping. “you’ll get there. we’ll get there. promise.”

a whirlwind of thoughts swirl through him again. so much uncertainty, so many new experiences. how is this world still finding new ways to absolutely terrify him? but it all quiets… why would he argue with you now? when you’re so close to the relief you need? instead he watches you try to hold on, like you just know he’s got something else you need to quell. “you’re right, sweetheart.”

it’s almost instant how the tension leaves your body, satisfied and tired and very quickly drifting off. it’s alright though, he’s got you. a little while later and the newest piece of his heart doesn’t even make a sound now that his arms are the cradle, just cooing in the midst of sleep while you murmur about them both. yeah, he thinks, admiring the similarities between you two. he’s got you both.

a/n: definitely not my favorite piece but i hope you guys like it at least!

[beasangel]

damage control

⤷ toxic!rafe cameron x toxicfem!reader

💭 “my mood swings? You broke my fucking car this morning!”

you and rafe have always had a love fuelled by jealousy, pride, and a mutual refusal to back down. after a stupid argument spirals you catch him getting too friendly with another girl at a party, you decide two can play that game.

rafe masterlist main masterlist

The party was already too loud when you walk in, bodies pressed together, cheap beer spilling, someone yelling about pong in the kitchen. But you’re not here for the drinks or the music.

You’re here because he’s here.

That morning, you’d torn into each other over nothing something about a look, a laugh, the way he tensed when another guy said her name.

She called him possessive, he called her desperate. Voices rose, doors slammed, and before noon, she’d already keyed his car, and he'd told her not to bother expecting him to come back.

 As if that wasn’t her line.

You catch sight of Rafe within two minutes, leaning against the far wall like he owns it, some girl laughing too hard at something he said. She’s pressed in close, touching his chest, lips too close to his ear.

You could leave. You should. Most people would.

But instead, you smile, turn toward the nearest guy (not even cute, honestly) and say, “What are you drinking?”

You know how to play the game. Rafe taught you.

The guy’s into it. He leans closer, makes a joke, you laugh, too loud, too pretty. Your hand brushes his forearm as you sip from your cup. Just enough to sell the image.

And just enough to snap the thread in Rafe’s brain.

It happens fast. One second, you’re still smiling at the guy’s lame story about…. something, the next you’re being grabbed.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Rafe growls, grabbing your elbow in a grip that’s way too tight as he drags you through the party.

“Oh, get over it,” you snap, trying to twist your arm back. “You’ve got a girl on you like every five seconds-”

“Yeah, but I don’t flirt back,” he spits.

You laugh, sharp and nasty. “That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

Outside now. The air’s colder than expected, but the heat between you two doesn’t drop for a second. You rip your arm away from him and spin around.

“You jealous, Rafe?” you sneer. “Maybe if you weren’t always drooling over every bitch in a mini skirt, I wouldn’t have to find someone who actually looks at me.”

“I look at you, all the time.” he snaps, chest heaving.

“Yeah? When you’re not busy making eyes at whatever girl won’t slap you?”

His hands clench. “I just told you it’s not like that.”

“But it is,” you say, stepping in. “And the second I do the exact same thing, you act like I cheated.”

“You’re doing it on purpose!” he shouts. “You want to embarrass me? Make me look like a fucking idiot?”

“No,” you say sweetly. “I wanted to piss you off.”

His jaw tics. “You think it’s funny?”

“Yeah,” you say, slow and vicious. “I think you’re hot when you’re mad.”

He steps forward. “You drive me mad.”

You pull your phone out of your pocket, unlocking it with a grin. “Guess you’ll have to get some help, then.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. “Maybe I’m done babysitting your mood swings.”

You spin to walk off … and then your phone is gone. One second in your hand, the next ripped out and hurled across the yard like it burned him. It hits the brick of the back wall, screen shattering on impact.

You freeze.

“Are you crazy?!” you scream, running to the broken mess. “That was my phone, Rafe!”

“My mood swings? You broke my fucking car this morning!”

“Oh I broke your car? So fucking dramatic, you were the one who blew up at me earlier over nothing.”

“Nothing? You flirted with a guy right in front of me!”

“I smiled at a waiter Rafe.” Your tone monotone, not interested in having a repeat of his hissy fit this morning.

“Yeah a waiter who smiled back at your fucking tits, and now you’re using it to act like a whore,” he snarls, eyes blazing. “What, gonna text that guy just now?”

“You think you can treat me like shit and I’m just gonna sit pretty and say nothing?” you spit, storming back to him.

“You keyed my car,” he growls. “You scratched up my fucking car.”

You smirk, proud. “Maybe next time don’t say you’re leaving if you don’t mean it.”

“You’re a goddamn lunatic.”

“And you love it,” you shoot back.

“I could’ve left with anyone else,” he says, voice shaking.

“But you didn’t,” you whisper, stepping closer.  “But maybe you’re right, I should go text that guy now huh.”

His breathing’s shallow now. His hands twitch like he doesn’t know whether to grab you or shake you.

“You ruin me,” he says.

You grin. “You deserve it.”

Then his hands are in your hair, and yours are yanking at his collar, and its teeth and tongue and too much and never enough. He pins you against the wall, groaning into your mouth, breathing you in like a drug.

“I’m getting you to bed,” he growls between kisses.

You hesitate , just long enough to pull back and murmur, “Might want to call a uber first.”

His brow furrows. “What?”

You smile sheepishly. “Slashed your tires.”

He blinks. “You what?!”

“Before I went in,” you say, batting your lashes. “I know your games Rafe and I wasn’t going to take the chance of you actually going home with some slut

He starts laughing. It’s unhinged. “You keyed my truck and slashed my tires in the same day?”

“Technically it was over two arguments,” you say.

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re still here.”

He stares at you, chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon. He strokes your face with his knuckles as he holds your jaw tight and kisses you so hard it knocks the sense out of you.

When he finally pulls away, breath ragged, he says, “I’ll buy you a new phone.”

“You better,” you whisper. “And if you flirt with that girl again, I’m taking a bat to your windshield.”

He grins. “My girl.”

And you’re kissing him again like it’s the last time. Like chaos is the only language you both understand.