#fall down and hit the ground and have that be it

[allaboutsturns]

ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ (ᴘ2)

matthew sturniolo x reader

warnings/content: angst, car crash, mentions of death, mentions of needles, mentions of hospital, serious injuries, mentions of respiratory tubes, very sad triplets.

summary: the triplets watched from the middle of the road as your vehicle flipped in the intersection at the end of their street. each of their minds raced with thoughts. would nick ever get to share a spa night with you again? would chris ever get to have another sleepover with you? would matt ever get to apologize for hurting you? would he ever get to kiss you again, hold you again?

• 2:10am

matt, nick, and chris stood in the middle of the road in front of their shared house, looking after you as you sped off towards the intersection at the end of the street.

the three of them turned to walk back inside, each of them feeling defeated, matt especially, but that was before they heard the screeching of tires against the asphalt as they fought for friction.

matt was the first to turn, followed by chris, and then nick. immediately, without hesitation, matt starts sprinting towards the scene unfolding in front of him. nick and chris are following closely behind him.

the adrenaline coursing through matt’s veins sobers him completely, ridding his body of any trace of alcohol. his eyes begin to pool with tears that begin to fall from his eyes and fly back in the direction of the wind that he felt he was fighting to get through.

he took in shaky breaths, the cool air nipping at his lungs with each inhale. he could barely hear anything other than his own heart beat which echoed through his mind.

badum. badum. badum.

he heard the muffled screams and desperate sobs of his brothers from behind him, but it didn’t register. all that mattered to him in that moment was getting to you as quickly as possible.

badum. badum. badum.

finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he reached the intersection and threw himself to the ground right in front of the drivers side door, his bare knees hitting the pavement. he barely flinched from the pain though. he could barely feel it.

badum. badum. badum.

he began trying to pry open the door which separated himself from you. soon after he had managed to reach your flipped car, his brothers managed to reach it too. they threw themselves onto the pavement just as matt had, and immediately went to help him pry the door away.

the smell of gasoline flooded their noses, sending shocks of fear throughout their bodies, “matt, we have to get her out now!!” nick yelled through tears, his throat sore with a ripping sadness.

badum. badum. badum.

matt didn’t acknowledge his brother, he couldn’t. he didn’t even know either of them had spoken. he yanked at the door, praying that the hinges which held it in place would snap so he could pull you from the car.

snap.

the hinges did exactly as he prayed. they snapped, releasing their firm grip on the separation they had created. the three boys dragged the heavy door away from its frame, nick and chris dragging it a couple inches away.

matt had immediately gone back to you, frantically reaching for the buckle of your seatbelt, and in one fell swoop, he clicked the button which released the seatbelt from its prison, and quickly grabbed you and dragged you out of the car before you hit your head on the asphalt and injured yourself more.

he dragged himself back with one hand, scooting as far back as he could, holding onto you tightly, making sure to not let you go this time.

as soon as he was a relatively safe distance from the flipped car, it ignited into flames, a bright orange illuminating the world around them.

matt frantically looked from the car, down to you. you were laying lifelessly in his arms. he brushed the hair away from your face with the palm of his hand, gently. your hair was tangled with a mix of dry blood and shards of glass. some glass had managed to plant itself into matt’s hand when he brushed the hair out of your face.

the breath in his throat came to a halt as he saw your face. there were deep cuts scattered across your skin and dark bruises that bit at your beautiful face.

“stay with me, baby.. please stay with me…” he managed to squeeze out through sobs as he pulled you into him as closely as he possibly could, gravity pulling your limp arms back towards the ground, your soft fingers brushing the asphalt.

nick was frantically searching for a pulse in your wrist while chris sat completely frozen beside matt, tears ruthlessly running down his face as he rocked back and forth.

finally, the ambulance arrived. the boys would never be able to tell you when they got their because they were so stuck in one moment of time.

the paramedics quickly but gently placed you onto a gurney and wheeled you into the back of the ambulance. matt got into the back of the ambulance in complete and utter shock.

nick and chris would have gotten into the ambulance as well, but there was no room, so instead they would have to resort to ordering an uber.

-

• 2:40am

the paramedics rushed through the doors to the hospitals emergency room, matt holding on tightly to your hand as if his life depended on it. he was scared that if he let go, you would disappear.

“we need some help over here!” one of the paramedics shouted. almost immediately, a couple doctors and a about three nurses ran over and guided the gurney that you lay on to an unoccupied hospital room.

matt just stared at your face as one of the nurses gently removed your hand from his grip, guiding him outside of the hospital room. he couldn’t even react, he was too shocked.

the nurse rushed back into the room and shut the door behind her, “she’s got a faint pulse! someone get a damn crash cart!” one of the doctors yelled urgently.

beep. beep. beep.

matt could faintly hear the imitation of your weak heartbeat on the monitor through the door. he put his back against the hospital wall right next to the door, incapable of moving to the waiting room.

beep. beep. beeeeeeeeeeep.

“we’re losing her!” another doctor yelled. through ringing ears, matt heard the muffled flatline on the monitor, signaling that your heart had stopped. signaling that you were gone and that he’d never get to fix what he had said to you last. never get to try and mend what he broke. he fell to the floor pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face in them, sobs escaping his lips as his lungs fought for air.

all he could think about was everything he would never be able to do now, everything he’d never be able to fix. he remembered all the plans the two of you had. he would never get to kiss you again, never get to hug you again, never get to please you again. he would never get to hold you and run his hands through your hair, and it was all his fault. all because he told a lie. he never cheated. the only reason he had been distancing himself from you was because he was stressed and his anxiety was through the roof, that also being the reason he was at the bar so much the past few nights. if anything, anytime a girl even looked at him, he would walk over to them and brag about how amazing his girlfriend was and how bad he felt about how he was treating her recently.

nick and chris pushed through the door to the hospital, frantically looking around for a sign of you or matt.

“nick, over there!” chris said to his brother, his voice cracking from the soreness in his throat. nick and chris ran to matt and when they reached him, they heard it.

beeeeeeeeeeeep.

“no…” chris whispered, covering his mouth with one of his hands, tears managing to escape his eyes once again. nick just stood there, his hands at his sides, completely frozen and unable to mutter a word.

chris fell to the floor beside matt and buried his face into his brothers shoulder, soon after nick did the same. all three of their bodies heaved up and down with each shaky, unfulfilling breath that they took.

each of their minds were racing with memories that they had with you. you may have been matt's girlfriend, but you were family to all of them. you had always been equally as involved with nick and chris as you were with matt.

nicks sobs grew louder as his thoughts wandered. you always knew how to make him laugh only in a way that his brothers had ever made him laugh. anytime he texted you alerting you that he was upset, you would read the message and immediately be bursting through his bedroom door with snacks and nail polish in hand, ready to cheer him up. you and nick had a weekly spa night, you would paint each others faces with a face mask and put a movie on the tv while you waited for them to dry. nick would always lay on your chest and listen to your heartbeat as you watched the movie together, it was comforting to him. you were his best friend and practically his sister and he loved you so much. he couldn't help but think about how two nights prior would be the last time he ever listened to your heartbeat, the last time he ever watched a movie with you, the last time he ever painted your face with a green face mask.

chris shook as he tried to scoot as closely to matt as he could. you had always had a soft spot for chris. he was like a little brother to you even though he was older. you loved him so much and he loved you. you were the only person he allowed himself to be completely vulnerable around, he trusted you entirely. you couldn't count the amount of times on two hands that he cried in your arms when he became too overwhelmed because he couldn't focus or complete the task at hand without getting sidetracked. almost every night chris would have a sleepover with you because you kept his nightmares at bay. you were his best friend and he loved you entirely. he couldn't stand the thought of you being gone, he didn't even want to imagine it. what would he do? who would he go to?

-

• 3:10am

all of the nurses and doctors had left the hospital room by now except for one. the final doctor stepped out of the room quietly, leaving the door open a crack, and looked down at the three boys who had fallen asleep due to exhaustion, their bodies had been working too hard in the short period of time that these events were occurring. the doctor frowned, sympathy washing over his features as he looked at the boys. they looked tired and definitely not at peace. their sleep looked painful and restless, each of their faces were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears.

atter a minute or two had passed, the doctor reached a hand down and gently patted matt's head to wake him, "hey buddy," he said gently.

matt's eyes shot open and he started frantically looking around, confused as to where he was at. as soon as he remembered what was going on and where he was at, immediate tears welled in his eyes.

beep. beep. beep.

matt's eyes widened when he heard the beep of the heart monitor coming from your room. he pushed himself up off the ground quickly, which woke his brothers up, and he ran past the doctor into the room.

he paused for a moment when he saw all the tubes connected to you and the iv's in your arms. finally, he shook the thoughts away and ran to your side, grabbing your hand gently in his and placing a kiss to it.

nick and chris followed closely behind matt and ran to the other side of the bed, both of them taking your other hand in theirs gently.

"it's gonna be okay.. you're gonna be okay," matt whispered to you, unsure if you could hear him or not.

-

• 10:01am

sunlight shone through the gaps of the blinds into the hospital room, painting the room a light yellow color.

your eyes opened slowly, so slowly that it would've been painful to watch. immediately you felt pain shoot through your body, but it was gentle pain. the meds the doctors had put you on numbed it almost entirely.

you looked to each side of you at your boys. nick and chris on the right and matt on the left. they were all asleep, their heads laying gently on parts of your body. they looked peaceful. worried, but peaceful. you coughed a little when you tried to speak, unaware of the tubes that were in your mouth. you were too tired to fight the tubes, too tired to panic.

instead, you gently rubbed both of your thumbs back and forth against the soft skin of nick, chris, and matt's hands.

matt was the first one awake, almost as if he had sensed you were awake. immediately he was planting the most gentle kisses to your head and face in spots that weren't as visibly injured as the others. you weakly smiled as best you could at him, completely ignoring the argument that you and him just had. that was the least of your worries now.

almost dying made you realize you never wanted to lose any of them, not over anything. you knew you could work things out with matt and he knew he would do everything in his power to fix what he broke.

nick and chris were awake a couple minutes after matt, all three of them had tears of happiness building in their eyes.

nothing mattered in this exact moment. nothing at all, except that you were going to be okay. you weren't going to leave them.

you and nick would get to make more spa night memories and you'd get the opportunity to help him when he was sad.

you would be able to be a lighthouse for chris, a comfort person. he wasn't going to lose his best friend, his safety net. he would get to cry into your arms and have sleepovers after a nightmare with you again.

you and matt would be able to fix things and finish everything you had planned together, make more memories and share more love. pain came with the territory but you knew you two would always find a way to work through it.

you were family to two of them, and to the other, well you were the love of his life. none of them wanted to lose you, not now and not ever, and you didn't want to lose them either.

you may not share their blood, but you share their happiness, their sadness, their anger. you share their love, and that was all that mattered. that's what made them so important to you.

today you lay in a bed with tubes and wires connected to you, but in a month you lay in bed with nick while your face masks dry. in a month you hold chris in your arms while he cries because he's so overwhelmed. in a month you kiss matt lovingly and hold his face gently in your hands.

today you hurt, but in a month you will continue to make memories with your boys.

divider by: @/Kafekitsune

ERMMM i'm crying wtf.

this is my SECOND time writing this because the first time the draft DIDNT SAVE and it had like 2000+ words. i cried many tears. hopefully you guys like thissss!! ¡ probably wont do a part 3 but if you guys absolutely want it i will! the support on my page the past 2 days has been insane and i love you guys so much and am so grateful!!

- ace <3

tags: @whoisabbyysblog @mattyblover07 @b2cute @samandcolbyfan22 @norr1ssturni0lo @sturnlover4eva @sturniololover-09

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (13/?)

Part Summary: “I love you, Leigh,” you declare, the words tumbling out almost uncontrollably. Ever since you stepped off that plane and your feet touched back on home ground, you've been aching to say it. Her eyes turn steely, the brief flicker of doubt swallowed up by resolve. “You say that now,” Leigh counters, her laugh dark and hollow. “But I'm not easy. Loving me might just kill you.”

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.900+ | Warnings: Some angst | Author's note: I think there will be just 2-3 more chapters before we close this book. Just fyi!

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII

-

When you finally stir awake, the room is washed in a soft morning light. Beside you, Leigh is already up, sitting on the edge of the bed in yesterday’s clothes. Her hair is pulled back casually, a few strands hanging loose, looking a bit disheveled but still unintentionally perfect—or perhaps that's just your infatuation speaking in the early morning haze. But you can't help yourself.

“Morning,” you mumble, voice gravelly from sleep, as you try to tame your own bedhead. You're still barely clothed under the thin covers in contrast to Leigh’s state of fully dressed. The realization makes you blush, remembering last night’s affairs. Subconsciously, you pull the covers tighter around your body, a wave of shyness washing over you. 

“Hey,” Leigh whispers in return, giving you a small smile.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, feeling a pleasant ache in your inner thighs and back. “What time is it?” you ask, glancing around, trying to determine the time based solely on the sunlight filtering through the windows.

“It's still early,” she says, checking her phone. “But I've been up for a bit.”

You notice the creases in her clothes, evidence of a night spent on your floor. She seems a bit distant this morning, thoughtful, like she's already planning her day.

“You could have woken me,” you say, letting a small, teasing smile play across your lips.

Leigh shakes her head. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you,” she says, her eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. There's a warmth there, but also something you can't quite read.

“But I did make coffee,” she offers, tilting her head toward the kitchen. Her eyes land on the pile of your clothes scattered on the floor, remnants of just a few hours earlier. She clears her throat and her cheeks color a little as she says, “I'll let you get dressed first then.” Without another word, she heads back to the kitchen.

You grab some clothes and quickly dress, and then a thought hits you. Was Leigh watching you sleep? The idea makes you a bit giddy, flipping a fluttery feeling through your stomach. It's strange to think about, but also kind of endearing. Her sticking around this morning feels like a small victory. Being with Leigh felt good, but you weren’t sure what to expect at sunrise. 

In the kitchen, you watch Leigh move with an easy familiarity, exploring the cabinets and figuring out where things are stashed. She quickly locates the mugs right above the coffee brewer, grabs two, and sets them down on the counter.

“How do you take yours?” she asks, her hand hovering over the sugar and cream.

You shrug. “Two creams, two sugars?”

Leigh is meticulous, measuring each spoonful of sugar, ensuring there's just the right amount of room for cream. Every small adjustment she makes for your preference makes your heart skip. You’re touched by the simple fact that she cares enough to know and remember exactly how you like it.

You realize, not for the first time, but perhaps the most profoundly, that you’re falling in love with her. You have been for some time now, but this morning it feels like the descent down a rollercoaster—fast, exhilarating, and a little bit terrifying. There's no slowing down or stopping it; you just have to close your eyes and hold on for dear life.

As you both sip your coffee, you find yourself easing into the comfort of small talk, curious about Leigh's return to working at The Beautiful Beast. She mentioned needing to help her mom out, especially after a few recent resignations—a situation you understand all too well from your own experiences with running a business and the never-ending struggles of hiring staff and managing them.

While part of you listens, another part is preoccupied with thoughts of last night. You want to delve into what happened, to ask if she enjoyed herself, and to apologize for not being more assertive. You want to confirm what it means for both of you, but the thought makes your hand tremble slightly around your coffee mug.

Before you can gather your courage, Leigh’s phone vibrates loudly on the table. She checks it and her expression tightens. “I need to go,” she says suddenly, standing up. 

You automatically stand up too, but without a clear next move, you find yourself frozen, waiting for something to happen. Both of you are just standing there—Leigh figuring out how to leave, and you, how to say goodbye.

Then, as if deciding for both of you, Leigh steps forward and gives you a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll see you later,” she says.

“Bye,” you reply, a bit dazed as you watch her grab her things and leave. 

You touch your lips, feeling the ghost of Leigh’s quick kiss, an electric zip that lingers like the aftertaste of strong coffee. You’ve seen Leigh in nothing but shadows and moonlight, felt the undeniable press of her bare skin against yours, but the shock of her kiss never dulls. It’s a bit like being struck by lightning—no matter how many times it happens, you never get used to the jolt.

-

Sara sits confidently across from you, dressed in a black turtleneck and slacks, attire appropriate for a formal interview. Earlier, she mentioned she's finishing her thesis and is interested in a part-time job that can accommodate her academic commitments, which seems ideal. However, the situation is far from perfect. Ideally, hiring someone you once found attractive isn't the best practice, but she's the only applicant who has responded to your job postings so far.

Feeling her eyes fixed on you, you fiddle with the sleeves of your coat while reviewing her résumé. Between you is a history as transient as a wisp of smoke but clear nonetheless. You’d almost ventured into something with her after a lonely night spent swiping through an app you swore off a dozen times before. And with the recent memory of Leigh leaving your apartment still vivid in your mind, you question whether considering Sara for the job is the right decision.

“So?” Sara ventures after you've been quiet for a while. You feel your cheeks warm with a blush, realizing you've been stalling. Forcing yourself, you tear your eyes away from her rather impressive qualifications.

Letting out a sigh, you set down your glasses, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Honestly, this just doesn't feel serious,” you confess. “I keep expecting Suzie to pop out with her phone, recording this whole thing as a prank.”

Sara's laughter spills out, rich and melodious. It’s infectious, and after a while you find yourself chuckling too.

“I promise, I'm serious,” she assures you, still smiling. She leans forward, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Look, our history was brief. We didn’t really date, we just met that one time—”

“Twice,” you interrupt, unable to resist correcting her.

Her smile broadens. “—outside of the app. We can be friends, forget all that other stuff, okay?”

You consider her words, searching her face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. Finding none, you ask, “And that won’t be weird for you?”

“Not at all,” she replies confidently, her head shaking slightly. “And… if you're alright with just part-time for now?”

“Yeah, I can manage reception on my own some days,” you say. But there's another nagging thought that won't let you go. 

Sara quickly catches on to your dithering. “What is it?” 

“It's just... aren't you worried this job is a bit beneath you? You're chasing an MBA. Wouldn’t you rather find something more aligned with your degree?” you ask. 

She leans back, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “I’ve considered that,” she says slowly, “but right now, the flexibility this job offers is what I need most. And honestly, I believe in what your clinic is doing—it's a good place to be, even if it’s just a stop along the way.”

You smile at that, genuinely touched by her kind words about your establishment and the work you do. 

“Alright, then, I just have one more question to, uh, make this official,” you say, shuffling the papers in front of you. “You've got impressive organizational skills and a solid background in customer service. How do you think these will help you in a medical office setting?”

Sara doesn’t hesitate, her answer ready almost before you've finished speaking.

-

“Are we sure it's okay to leave Sara by herself while we grab lunch?” you ask, a slight frown forming as you think about what might need handling while you're gone.

Suzie gives you a reassuring smile as she slings her purse over her shoulder. “She’ll be fine. It’s usually quiet around this time, and I’ve given her a rundown of the essentials. Plus, she knows she can text me if anything comes up.”

You can't shake off a sliver of worry, knowing how overwhelming the first day can be. “Alright,” you say, still unconvinced but trusting Suzie’s judgment. “Let’s make it quick then.”

The two of you make your way to a charming little café tucked around the corner. It's a snug nook, celebrated for its hearty sandwiches and home-cooked soups. As you walk, the idea of bringing Leigh here bubbles up in your thoughts—she'd appreciate their renowned kale soup, you reckon.

As you line up to order, Suzie nudges your shoulder lightly. “So, not weird at all hiring an old flame?” she teases.

You roll your eyes. “It's strictly professional. And technically, we never really dated. We just… hung out.”

“Yeah, you hung her out to dry.”

“I’m still your boss for the next two weeks,” you remind her jokingly.

Suzie smirks and raises her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, boss. I'll behave.”

“But seriously, you can't tease me about Sara anymore because, you know…I'm with Leigh now,” you say, looking down at your feet, hiding your grin.

Suzie turns to you, her eyes widening. “Oh. When did this happen?” she asks, her tone noticeably flat. You were expecting her to be more excited about the news.

Your spirits dip a little at Suzie's lackluster reaction. You straighten up and decide to share the brief version of your reunion with Leigh. As you recount the events to Suzie, you keenly watch her reactions, hoping for a clue into her thoughts. You mention forgiving Leigh and how, after forgiveness was exchanged, Leigh kissed you. Throughout your story, Suzie's expression remains unreadably neutral. 

When you finish, she finally speaks, “Honestly, I'm happy for you. Just make sure you're both on the same page.”

“She did stay until morning,” you tell Suzie, feeling a need to convince her—and maybe yourself—that this is significant. After all, someone making you coffee in the morning has to mean something, right?

“Okay, that’s definitely a good sign,” she says with cautious optimism. “But have you guys talked about what this all means? Like, are you actually together now or what?”

The reality of her question gradually settles on you after a few moments. “We haven't really defined anything,” you admit.

Suzie heaves a sigh just as it's her turn to order. She picks a dark chocolate frappuccino and a salmon bagel, loaded with extra cream cheese, then drifts off to a corner to wait while you place your order. As you step up to the counter, you realize you’ve lost your appetite. You settle for an Americano and a mixed bowl of fruit to go. When your food and drinks are ready, you both head to a corner booth by the window.

Suzie, picking up on your nervousness, advises, “Just take things slow, okay?”

You murmur a noncommittal, “Mhm,” your thoughts adding, Too late for that. The two of you eat in silence until the chime of a text notification breaks through—from Leigh.

You can feel Suzie’s curious gaze at you while you read Leigh’s text:

[12:33 PM] Leigh: Thanks for last night

You hover over the keypad, unsure how to respond.

You’re welcome?

The pleasure was all mine?

You shake your head, cringing at your own thoughts. Suzie catches your expression and squints at you. “Everything alright?” she asks.

“It’s Leigh,” you mumble, glancing briefly from your phone to meet Suzie’s questioning look.

“What did she say?”

Instead of explaining, you tilt your phone towards Suzie, letting her read the message herself. A few seconds later, a knowing smirk forms on her face. 

“She’s playing it safe,” Suzie concludes.

Your phone pings again, making you jump. Almost fumbling it, you quickly check the new message and read it aloud:

[12:34 PM] Leigh: Hey, quick question. What dog shampoo would you recommend? Logan's perfumed smell doesn't really last long.

“She's playing it way too safe,” Suzie remarks, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

Ignoring Suzie, you quickly type back, suggesting a favorite of yours, and include a link to an online store. 

[12:35 PM] You: Try this one <link>. It's hypoallergenic and it should keep Logan smelling fresh longer than the others I've tried.

After sending the message, you look up to find Suzie still wearing a small smile.

“What a bunch of modern idiots,” she murmurs, loud enough for you to hear, before taking a hearty sip from her drink.

You and Leigh continue texting about Logan and his needs. She mentions she'll drop by tomorrow to pick up his supplies. You keep to yourself that you're already planning to gather everything and surprise her by dropping it off at her place—an excuse to see her again.

-

You leave the clinic early, gripping a bouquet of flowers in one hand and Logan’s bag of supplies in the other. Since that lunch with Suzie, you've been introspective and quiet, wrestling with the idea that she might be right about defining your relationship with Leigh. You realize you're already in too deep, weary of assumptions and the uncertainty of not knowing where you stand with her.

Expecting to find Leigh at her mom's fitness studio in the late afternoon, you make your way there.

But she isn't there.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” Jules greets you from behind the reception desk. She's busy wiping down the counter and sorting through stacks of folders—membership forms that appear to have accumulated over the past few years.

“Is Leigh around?” you ask, scanning the mostly deserted area. Your eyes sweep past the maintenance staff quietly going about their cleaning, but there’s no sign of Leigh.

You miss the brief flicker of discomfort that crosses Jules's face at the mention of her sister. “Leigh's probably at home,” Jules says evenly, going back to her task. “She takes every Tuesday off.”

While you’re still distracted (and a little disappointed), Jules notices the bouquet you’re holding.

“Are those for her?” she asks.

You give the bouquet of red Chrysanthemums a slight wave, then a bit sheepishly, you nod and confirm, “Yeah.”

“That's sweet, Y/N,” Jules comments, her lips curving slightly.

She seems to expect you to leave since Leigh isn't around, but instead, you take a seat on one of the stools at the reception.

“How are you, by the way?” you ask, flashing a warm smile at her. You lean your arms on the counter and start drumming your fingers, genuinely interested in her response.

“You sure you wanna hang around? Leigh hates waiting for anyone,” she says. Though her words are light, there’s a shadow behind them that yanks your attention. 

“Is everything okay? I mean, with you and Leigh?” you ask cautiously. Jules doesn’t speak for a moment too long, and you nearly backtrack, thinking maybe a lighter topic might salvage the awkward silence. 

But just as you’re about to pivot, she blurts out, “I moved out recently.”

You gawk at her, surprised by the sudden confession. Jules notices your open-mouthed shock and it almost coaxes a laugh from her. She's somewhat entertained by your astonishment but also touched that you cared enough to ask. Inside, she’s glad she secretly cheered for you over Danny.

“I know, right? Bet you didn't see that coming,” she says with a wry smile. 

“Moving out is definitely a big step,” you reply, “but uh, you kind of didn’t really answer my question there.”

Jules chuckles and rounds the counter to sit beside you. “No,” she says flatly, her expression sobering as she sits beside you. “And honestly, I'd rather not hash out my issues with Leigh unless it's with my therapist. Talking about it just feels like letting her win somehow.”

She lets out a deep breath, her gaze drifting away momentarily. “And no, I didn't plan on moving out. I just got tired of being treated like crap by my own family.” 

Jules starts picking at the edge of the counter before she looks up. She had mentioned not wanting to discuss it, but somehow, she finds it easy to open up to you.

“I mean, obviously, we're not related by blood,” she continues, “and yeah, it's the 21st century—being adopted shouldn't be a big deal, right? But even though it's common, it doesn't make me feel any more part of the family, any less like an outsider. I feel like an eternal letdown, like I'm always just shy of what they hoped I'd be.”

“What exactly are they hoping for?” you ask softly.

Jules shrugs, her eyes darting away as she wraps her arms around herself protectively. “I don't really know. It's more of an outline than a shape.”

You think about her words for a moment before adding your two cents. “Could it be that maybe some of this pressure is self-imposed? Maybe you're the one filling in the blanks with what you think they expect of you? It's okay just to be yourself, you know. You don't have to be everything to everyone, and that’s perfectly fine,” you say.

Jules nods slowly, her gaze fixed on some distant point. Then, quietly, almost a whisper, she adds, “It's tough, especially with my…you know…past drinking problem. Even though I've been clean for months, it feels like I'm always on trial, always having to prove I’m better now. And when I slip up, even just a little…” her voice falters, “I just... I imagine what they must think of me, if they—”

“If they love you any less for it?” you interject gently.

Her eyes snap back to yours, slightly wet and reddened. Instinctively, you reach out for her hand. Jules grasps it in return, and you give her hand a comforting squeeze.

“I don't really know Leigh in terms of family stuff,” you say, shifting uncomfortably on your stool as you choose your words carefully. “And maybe you've got it right, Jules. But then again, maybe not. See, when we really care about someone, we tend to put them on a pedestal, root for them so hard that sometimes, without even realizing it, we might push them a bit too much.”

You let the thought sit for a while, then continue, your own quandaries weaving into your speech. “Maybe it's best if you talk to Leigh about this... I mean, personally, I need to talk to Leigh about something too. I want to stop assuming things and thinking my perspective is the whole reality. We all do it, don’t we? Set traps for ourselves with our own expectations and assumptions.”

Jules sniffles, manages a faint smile, and discreetly wipes away a tear with her pinkie. Then, unexpectedly, she leans forward and hugs you, her head resting snugly against your cheek. You return the embrace, gently rubbing her back in random circles.

When she steps back, there's a new light of recognition in her eyes. 

“You remind me of Matt.”

You're not sure if that's a flattering comparison or not. You did connect with Matt, after all, not because you were opposites that attracted, but because you saw parts of yourself reflected in him—similar interests, similar ways of thinking.

You can’t help but ask, “How so?”

“Matt always played mediator between Leigh and me. Oddly enough, we both really listened to him, took his opinions to heart. He had this wisdom, you know?” She stops for a second, her expression clouding over. “Which really threw me when I found out about some of the... stupid choices he made.” She gestures towards you apologetically, adding, “No offense.”

“None taken,” you assure her quickly with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, Matt was that person in the family who really saw everyone, who tried to knit us all together. I miss him,” Jules says wistfully. She looks past your shoulder, into the distance, as if she's seeing his ghost. You don’t look behind you. You can see his ghost in her eyes clearly.

Jules continues, “And whatever went down with Leigh, I don’t think it was all his fault. Leigh... she can be challenging to love sometimes. Oh god, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, understanding what she means more than she might think. “It's okay, Jules. It's hard, loving people isn't always straightforward or easy. They say love brings out the best in us, but often, it brings out the worst.”

“It’s like I can hear Matt talking, but in a female voice,” Jules jokes, returning to her post. “Anyway, are you and my sister finally going out?”

“That’s what I’m hoping to find out soon,” you say, gesturing to the bouquet you're holding. You feel a bit forward buying flowers for a girl, especially since you don’t even know what Leigh's favorite flowers are—or if she likes them at all.

Jules gives you a mischievous grin and says, “Well, good luck with that. For what it's worth, I don't think Leigh dumped Danny for nothing. She seems to really like you.”

“Thanks, that means a lot,” you say, feeling a bit more buoyed as you rise from your seat. 

With a final nod to Jules, you head out, the bouquet of flowers in hand feeling less silly and more like a talisman as you drive straight to Leigh's house.

-

You pull into the driveway of the Shaw residence, your hands gripping the steering wheel a tad too tightly. The bouquet of flowers sits next to you, a daunting shade of red against the gray upholstery, and Logan’s supplies are carefully arranged in the backseat. You mentally rehearse your opening line to Leigh, hoping the surprise might soften the ground for the conversation that needs to follow.

You ring the doorbell and wait, shifting from foot to foot, your hand gripping the stem of the flowers a little too tightly while your other arm cradles the box containing Logan’s things. But when the door swings open, it's not Leigh who greets you.

“D-Danny,” you stammer, the subtle smile on your lips completely falling away.

What is he doing here?

Danny looks equally unenthused to see you. “Hey,” he replies, his eyes briefly dropping to the flowers before meeting yours again. “Looking for Leigh?”

Before you can respond, Leigh appears behind him. Her face emerges as she peers at you over his shoulder, his towering height partially obstructing your view of her. She looks utterly surprised to see you at her doorstep, giving you the impression that she wasn't expecting you and maybe you shouldn't be here at all.

“I… I thought of bringing Logan’s supplies now since I’m free, but… yeah, I should probably go—”

“Danny was just leaving,” Leigh announces abruptly.

You find yourself frozen, rooted to the spot as you turn to face her. Danny looks poised to object, but Leigh fixes him with a look. It's enough. His defiance melts into resignation, his shoulders dropping slightly as he exhales a heavy sigh.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “I'll call you later, Leigh.” He stalks off without waiting for a reply.

You’re still looking at the ground, the front door cracked open, a draft passing in between you and Leigh as you stand on her doorstep.

What was Danny doing here? You can't seem to shake it off.

Leigh reaches out and gently touches your elbow, nudging you inside. “Come in,” she murmurs, leading you past the threshold.

Inside, Leigh takes the box of supplies from your hands. She starts sorting through it, tossing a casual “Thanks” over her shoulder as she examines the contents. Her focus is entirely on Logan’s needs until she looks up and spots the bouquet you’re still hanging onto.

Your cheeks flush as her gaze shifts to the flowers. You had fantasized about a dazzling smile breaking across her features at the sight. Instead, Leigh’s expression tightens with skepticism, her eyes narrowing slightly as she regards the bouquet. 

“Flowers?” Leigh inquires uncertainly.

It's not the response you'd imagined, and you suddenly find yourself scrambling for an explanation, the bouquet feeling unexpectedly cumbersome in your grasp.

“I, uh, passed by a flower shop,” you start, fiddling with a petal as you concoct a small white lie. “I bought some for myself and figured, since I was coming over with Logan's supplies, maybe you'd like some too.”

You've both seen each other naked just hours ago, yet somehow that doesn't seem to matter now. This doesn't feel any easier than before you slept together. 

“They are pretty,” she says, accepting the flowers. She looks around for a moment. “I'll find a vase for these.”

Relieved she's accepted them, you seize the opportunity to change the topic. You're on the verge of asking why Danny was just here, but to your own surprise, a completely different question slips out.

“Where's Logan today?”

“He's with mom,” Leigh says, returning to the living room holding a plain-looking vase. “She’s really bonded with him. Actually, she's out showing him off to some old friends today.”

That coaxes out a small smile from you, imagining Logan charming everyone he meets.

Now the roles reverse and Leigh takes her turn with the questions. “How about you? Weren't we supposed to meet for Logan’s stuff tomorrow?” A beat passes, and she adds, “I wasn’t expecting you.” Her tone isn’t harsh, but it's clear that Leigh isn't fond of surprises. You mentally file that away for future reference.

“I wanted to see you,” you say, the words tumbling out more bluntly than planned. “You left so quickly this morning after... after last night.”

Then, almost without thinking, you find yourself nodding toward the door Danny had exited through, the question spilling out before you can reel it back. “Why was Danny here?” It sounds more accusatory than you intend, and you hurry to cushion it, not wanting to come off as possessive. “I mean, I thought you two were—”

“Broken up?” Leigh fills in the blank sharply. She sets the vase down slowly, then turns to face you, her expression becoming more earnest by the second. 

“Yes, we are,” she confirms, crossing her arms lightly over her chest. “Danny came by to pick up some of his things he had left here. It's not... we’re not back together. But if you’re asking why he’s still in my life, then I have news for you, Y/N: we’re friends. And he’s still Matt’s brother.”

You bite your lip, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within you. “I'm just wondering, that's all,” you manage to say, trying not to sound too confrontational or possessive. You’re suddenly aware of how precarious your position is—you’re not really entitled to feel jealous or make demands. After all, Leigh hasn't given you any sort of claim over her; you're not officially anything. You came here hoping maybe that would change, but now you worry you might be messing it all up.

“Of course you can be friends with whoever you want,” you add hastily.

“Exactly,” she says, but then she pauses, scrutinizing you with a curious tilt of her head. “But what about you?” she presses, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, like a predator stalking its prey.

You give her a quizzical look.

“The flowers, showing up without a heads-up... What are you hoping to get out of this?”

As Leigh’s gaze bores into you, probing and skeptical, something inside you snaps. The hurt ricochets through you, searing and unexpected. She was so delicate with you, making you feel all sorts of things while doing wonderful, unspeakable things to your body, and now she’s making you question your own reality.

“I've been falling in love with you, Leigh,” you say, your voice rising without your permission, the words bouncing off the walls with a force that startles even you. “Are you just enormously daft or do you not care at all?”

Silence crashes down like a heavy curtain following your admission. 

But Leigh doesn’t flinch from your outburst, nor does she display any signs of distress. She remains eerily still, almost statue-like. Yet, when you look into her eyes, you see it—the unsteadiness there, the only part of her that seems vulnerable to your scrutiny.

Then, she speaks. Just one word, but it's enough to completely deflate you, a response more chilling than if she had simply said she didn't care. 

“No.”

“What—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“You don’t love me.”

The certainty with which she says it feels like a door slamming shut, final and resolute, leaving no room for doubts or arguments. Your mouth hangs open, muted by her unequivocal assertion that you don't love her. 

You’re gearing up to tell her how wrong she is, to insist that what you feel is real, but she cuts you off with a question that feels like a bucket of ice water.

“When you learned that ‘Nick’ was just Danny all along, that Matt’s brother helped him betray me, what was your first thought?” Leigh's voice is clinical, almost detached. 

You feel like you’re missing something, grasping at the air for an answer that will satisfy her. Her gaze traps you, demanding truth, and you realize you can’t escape until you give it to her. What does she want to hear? What is she trying to understand from this?

“My first thought?” you repeat, trying to remember how it made you feel. “I felt sorry for you, Leigh. I couldn’t believe someone so close to you would do that. I felt angry for you, and yeah, I felt really sorry that you had to go through it.”

Leigh's eyes flicker, a subtle shift like a wince. “You pitied me,” she says, her voice cold. “And you also wanted to fuck me. That can be a real killer combo you could mistake for love.” 

You stumble back a step, your legs suddenly weak as her words sink in. It's as if she's taken your heart and laid it bare under a harsh light, reducing your feelings to something small and pitiful, far from the love you thought you felt.

Finding the nearest surface to lean on, you press your back against the front door. The temptation to leave, to walk away from this painful confrontation, is strong. But the beautiful, infuriating creature in front of you couldn't be more wrong about you, about love, about how you feel for her. And you’re hell-bent on changing her mind, even if it’s the last thing you do.

“Then why be with me last night?” you challenge, your voice strained. “If you really think that, why even bother?��

Leigh's smile takes on a mocking twist, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Just satisfying your curiosity,” she says. “I wanted to lift the veil for you, help you realize it's nothing more than just guilt and sympathy.”

You shake your head. “I don't believe that. Last night wasn't just curiosity or some misguided sense of duty. It was real, Leigh. And I think you know that too.”

Her eyes remain hard, but just beneath, there's a shimmer—perhaps doubt, or something like it.

“You think you know what love is?” she whispers, her voice so faint it's almost lost. “You think it's just about feeling sorry for someone and wanting them?”

“No,” you say firmly. “I think it's about seeing someone for who they are, flaws and all, and wanting to be there for them anyway. I think it's about standing by someone even when it's hard, even when they push you away. And Leigh, I see you. I see all of you, and I still want to be here.

“I love you, Leigh,” you declare, the words tumbling out almost uncontrollably. Ever since you stepped off that plane and your feet touched back on home ground, you've been aching to say it.

Her eyes turn steely, the brief flicker of doubt swallowed up by resolve. “You say that now,” Leigh counters, her laugh dark and hollow. “But I'm not easy. Loving me might just kill you.”

“Leigh—”

“Why do you think Matt was found at the bottom of a forty-foot drop?” she nearly screams, her voice fraying at the edges of hysteria. She starts pacing, her movements restless and agitated. “Why do you think he came to you? Why do you think he kept running from me?”

At the mention of her dead husband, everything suddenly makes sense. The walls she’s built, her reluctant heart—it’s not about being mysterious or difficult. It’s about fear, a deep, visceral terror of being the storm that wrecks another life. Leigh isn't just pushing you away out of whimsy or cruelty; she's doing it because she believes it's the only way to prevent history from repeating itself.

“I’m not Matt.”

She stops pacing, her eyes locking onto yours, filled with anger, fear, and something that looks a lot like pain. “No, you’re not Matt. But you don’t get it. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle me. I drove him away, and I’ll drive you away too.”

“You didn’t drive Matt away. He was running from his own demons, not you. And I’m not afraid of you. I’m here because I want to be. Because I—”

Her face crumples, the mask she’s been wearing cracking. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispers. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I know it’s not easy,” you say, closing the distance between you. You feel her radiating every feeling she’s struggling to contain, the ones she’s attempting to shield from you. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for all of it.”

Her eyes well up, tears slipping down her cheeks. But she doesn’t move away. “Why?” she asks, her voice so small and child-like. “Why would you want to stay?”

“Because I love you,” you say simply, “and I’m not afraid of the cost.”

Leigh gives you a look that could freeze fire—like you’ve just spoken the worst of blasphemies.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, cupping her neck gently.

“Like what?” she asks, her voice trembling.

“Like it’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard.”

She attempts to smooth over her expression, trying to regain some semblance of control, but there’s a fleeting moment where she resembles a chastised child. You can't help but smile gently, touched by her unguarded reaction.

“Leigh,” you whisper, taking her hands in yours. “One date. Go out with me. Let me prove it to you. Let me show you why it can be a good thing.”

She lets out a shaky breath, and for the first time, there’s a glimmer of hope in her eyes. She nods, almost imperceptibly, but it’s enough. It’s a start.

“Okay,” she whispers in surrender. “One date.”

[jmstoesblog]

Lollipop 

Pairing: bf!JK x gf!reader

Summary: Jungkook stuffs down a—his— lollipop down your throat.

Warnings: making out, dirty talk, degradation, mean!JK, needy!reader, slapping, praising, he’s kinda rough, manhandling (?), bigdick!JK, name calling (slut, whore..), blowjob, fingering, lots of kissing, hickeys, spanking, doggystyle, missionary, rough sex, unprotected sex (be better ppl), choking, breeding kink, licking finger, not proofread!!

Note: this is my first time making a banner (?) like this. I hope it looks good <3 If there are any grammatical mistakes, please tell me!!

————

“Really? You gonna do that?” Jungkook questions you, his heavy gaze on you, “you wanna get fucked, is that it? Want a mouth full of cock?” Dirty words leave his mouth and you feel wetness between your thighs.

You swirl your tongue around the cherry flavored lollipop, “maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” You softly grin and plop the sweet out of your mouth making a ‘pop’ sound.

You lean back against the headboard of the master sized bed, pulling down the zipper of your jacket you reveal a little bit of cleavage to your boyfriend who looks like he could eat you up at any second.

His gaze falls on your cleavage, he licks his lips, softly biting them and tugging on his lip ring. You smirk as you plop the lollipop back in your mouth. Jungkook’s eyes travel down your body, your hardened nipple peeking at him, “this could be your dick.” His eyes flick up to your face.

You suck on the round lollipop while holding eye contact with Jungkook. You sensually moan and roll your eyes, “you’re such a filthy little slut. Doing all that just to have a mouthful of cock? You could just ask, baby.”

He take off his shirt, revealing his hard toned abs, his v-line— “whore.”

“Just for you.” You seductively say and push the covers off the bed. Jungkook tosses his shirt on the ground, his shirt landing on top of the covers.

Jungkook hovers above you and passionately kisses you, you equally kiss him back with hunger, the lollipop still in your right hand. Your left hand tugs at his locks, “Gonna stuff your cunt full with my cum, you’d like that wouldn’t you? You dirty little whore.” He leaves hickeys on your neck down to your collarbone.

Grabbing the lollipop from your hand he puts it in his own mouth and gets off you, motioning you to sit between his legs on the ground, “on the floor now.”

Once you settle between his muscular legs, he tugs at your zipper, “take this flimsy material off.” He places his hands on either side of him, leaning back a bit.

You pull down the zipper, your boobs spilling out. You place it neatly beside you and look at him with a hint of desperation in your eyes, Jungkook notices your eagerness and scoffs, “You’re that desperate? You’re such a needy slut. My needy slut.” He slaps you (gently). “Fuck, the things I wanna do to you. You make me crazy, baby.”

You whimper in response and place your hand on his thick thighs, looking at him with needy eyes. Jungkook nods giving you the green light, you hastily pull down the zipper of his jeans, pulling it down to reveal his cock which is standing up proudly and his hardened balls.

The tip is leaking with cum and you rub your thighs at the view. Jungkook grabs his cock, giving it a few pups before tapping the tip on your lips, “you gonna open up?” He slaps your cheek with his dick.

You open your mouth wide enough as you can. But you know it won’t be wide enough to fit his huge dick in. “Good girl.” He praises you. He grabs the back of your head and pulls your head forward, shoving his cock in your mouth.

The tip hits the back of your throat and you whimper, a few tears rolling down your cheeks, “aww you’re crying now? This is what you wanted, right? So deal with it you slut.” He lets out a laugh with a tint of amusement.

He uses your head however he wants to, using you for his pleasure. You gag around his big girth but he doesn’t seem to care, slapping your boob or pinching your nipple every time you want to pull away.

You grip his thighs, “fuck, just like that. You were made for this. You cockslut, this is the only purpose you serve in this world.” The popsicle still in his mouth, almost finished.

Your cheeks are tear stained, your hair is ravished, your lipstick is smeared (it’s also on his dick 🤭) drool on your chin….you look like a hot mess.

You whimper when you feel him release inside your mouth, hot seeds spurting in your mouth, “take my cum you dumb slut.” He groans in pure bliss. He pulls your head back, his cum on your lips mixed with your drool.

“Open up, baby, show me.” He says. You open up your mouth and he smirks, “now swallow it.” He orders you. After you swallowed every drop of his seeds in your mouth and licked of his cum on your chin, he picks you up laying you on the bed, he rips your pants along with your panties off, “you were truly made for me.” He kisses you, squeezing your boob.

“Yours.” You moan in the kiss and he nods, “yes, that’s right. Only mine.” He starts sucking on your nipple and you desperately try to press your pussy against his cock which is still hard, in need of some fraction.

That doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook, he slaps your boob and you gasp, “please, kook, please.” You whine and grab his hand, putting it on your pussy for him to play with it, “please want you, kookie.”

“Such a needy slut.” He rubs your pussy, “only for you!” You moan and press your lips against his, he suddenly pushes two long fingers in and you grab him by the shoulders, “want your cock.” You close your eyes, taking it all in and imagining his cock instead of his fingers.

The pleasure suddenly stops, you open your eyes to find Jungkook glaring at you, “ah!” You gasp as he slaps your cunt, “where are your manners!? Huh?”

Realizing your mistake you look him in the eyes, “I’m sorry.” You tug at his cock, Jungkook hisses, “want your cock, please.”

“Good girl.”

You give him a few pumps before he pins your hands above your head, leaning down he presses a long kiss against your lips. His free hand drawing patterns on your thigh. He slips his tongue in your mouth making you moan at the feeling.

He flips you over and spanks your ass cheeks and rubs them right after, soothing the pain. He takes of his pants completely, throwing them somewhere on the ground.

“On all fours.”

You immediately do as he says. He grabs your hips and rubs the tip between your folds, he groans and you moan. In one go he shoves his whole dick inside you, biting his lip to conceal any noises. You on the other hand aren’t afraid of letting out any type of noises.

Gripping your hips tightly he starts thrusting into you, “fuck, you feel so good, pussy feelin’ like heaven.” He grunts and you moan.

As time goes by, his thrusts get faster, his hips snapping against your ass. The room is filled with skin clapping sounds and your moans, whimpers with Jungkook’s grunts, groans and moans.

“Could stay in you forever, fill you up with my cum every time.” Jungkook moans and for a while all you could see was white. With his one hand he is pressing his thumb on your cunt, adding pressure. With his other hand he is holding your neck, squeezing it whenever you clench around him.

Your arms can’t hold you up anymore, it’s too much, “so good!” You cry out and your arms give up, your face landing on the pillow, Jungkook’s hands travels from your throat to the back of your head, pushing it into the pillow, not letting you properly breathe, all that while still keeping up that rapid speed.

“Could fuck a baby in you. You want that? Want my babies?” You moan loudly but it gets muffled by the pillow, you desperately try to touch him but can’t see anything.

“Already imagining you with my baby, your round belly with my baby in you, fuck. Can’t get that out of my head.”

You whine at his words and Jungkook finally lets you lift your head. You breath in all the air before Jungkook flips you over and wraps your legs around his waist, still moving his dick in and out of you, “you didn’t answer me, baby.” He breathlessly says, “are you too fucked out to answer or too dumb to answer this simple question?”

You don’t even hear him, lost in the pleasure, “Dumb slut.” He puts his finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around it and suck on his long digit, acting like it’s the lollipop from earlier.

“That’s all you can do, huh? Dumb little slut can only suck, yeah?” He pulls his finger out and presses it on your numb bud.

“C-close!” You warn him, he nods, closing his eyes, “me too, baby, me too.”

Jungkook wraps your legs even tighter around, he wants to be as close as possible to you when he cums, “Gonna paint your walls white, gonna give you my baby.” He moans, reaching his high, spilling his cum in you.

You also moan, cumming too, “that was so good.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, raising his pierced eyebrow.

————

Do not copy or translate.

Masterlist

[lanabuckybarnes]

Might have re-watched Captain America: Winter Soldier again 🫣....and it's just something about the way he says "You're my misson." All I know is this gives off HUGE smutty vibes. I love your written so I just knew I had to ask you!

Ohh nonnie the way he growls it as well (panties soaked)

18+ MINORS DNI, DUB/NON CON THEMES AHEAD

His metal hand pressed against your throat, you should’ve passed out ages ago but he wasn’t squeezing enough to hurt. He was keeping you in place.

You don’t know how you ended up on Hydra’s watchlist. You were a regular person, a security expert who woke up at 6am every morning, showered and got ready for the long hours at the office.

Your boss had some new clientele. They were in the market for top-notch security and they’d chosen the company you worked for, and your boss had chosen you to be part of the team. You learned quickly that they were a very secretive group, you only ever met the messengers and even then they blanked every other word you spoke besides a polite hello.

It was one boring day, completely uneventful, the usual in your office. You were working on the can’t security side of the project when your screen went black, then a logo appeared—an octopus? Weird.

“Hey Jim come look at this” you notified your cubicle neighbour who peaked over the barrier. Just as he did mountains of files filtered onto your screen, many of them in Russian it looked like but one thing was for certain. You definitely shouldn’t have seen it.

That night after packing up and heading downstairs you noticed Jim still at the revolving doors.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked, he looked pale, if you were in an old house you were sure you would’ve mistook him for a ghost.

“T-the—“ he cleared his throat before his brown eyes bore into yours. They looked dead, it shook you to your core. “The logo, on your computer…I searched it up and…”

Your jaw dropped to the floor when you digested the content on his phone. Hydra. Your new clients were Hydra and you’d accidentally seen all their files.

—

You jumped from your dreamless sleep at the sound of your landline. Checking your clock lets you know it was well past midnight, who on earth would be calling at this time?

“H-hello?” You rasped, eyes shutting by the second.

The frantic voice spoke your name. It was Jim and by his tone, he was panicking.

“Jim? Jim, are you alright?” You pressed, holding the phone closer to your ear.

“T-they’re here, listen to me whatever you do, do not open your door. Find a weapon and hide…oh god…Do not op—“ BANG!!

You let out a shriek at the sound, Jim’s side turning eerily quiet. Then your door knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Your door was gone before it could be knocked for a third time. Kicked so hard it hit the opposite wall, you screamed, dropping the phone from your ear and falling to the ground like you were made of jelly.

Tears flowed freely down your face as the huge body stalked forth, his arm glistening under the dim light you kept on at all times. A mask sat upon his face obscuring his emotions from you but you were certain he was enjoying the torture he was putting you through.

His heavy boots stopped just in front of your knees, his metal hand grasped at your throat squeezing until your vision spotted, until you garbled pleas up at him. Only then did he pull you up, your toes pointing to reach the floor, you were trying desperately to relieve some of the pressure around your throat.

You should’ve died a long time ago, his brain screamed at him to fulfil his mission, put a bullet in your skull and be done. But the more he looked at you the more he wanted.

The spaghetti straps of your nightgown had slipped down off your shoulders, catching in the crooks of your elbows but not before giving him a delicious tease of your bust.

He wanted more.

He raised his flesh hand, hooking a long thick index finger into the material before ripping it from your body in one fell swoop. You yelled and struggled against his grasp but a harsh squeeze of your trachea had any fight dying quickly.

He let his knuckles trace the swell of your tits, pinching a nipple in between his fingers, smirking darkly under the mask as you squirmed.

You look cute all scared of him; wide-eyed and chest heaving, your tummy sucking in to get away from his hand as it trailed down to your cotton panties.

A dark chuckle escaped him as he felt along your gusset.

“You’re wet”

You shook your head, eyes darting anywhere but him, your thighs squeezing his hand and keeping it pressed firmly against your mound.

He ripped the panties from your body as well, running two fingers through your folds and bringing them up to your face. Absolutely soaked.

“Wet” he spoke matter-of-factly before pushing his hand back down there; fingers plucking your hard little clit effortlessly until you were crying out.

“W-why are you doing this” you moaned, head hitting off the wall with a bang as you sucked in air greedily.

“You’re my mission” he growled back, fingers stretching you out until your brain turned to mush.

He coaxed four orgasms out of you that night. His mask, thrown to the floor so he could kiss you sloppily before leaving.

He returned night after night, Hydra sending him to complete his task but he’d do the same again, play with you, eat you out until you were a writhing mess—all dumb and thinking of nothing but him.

You were his mission. For days, months, years. You were his.

—

I pulled this outta my ass but I hope it was up to your standard nonnie 🤭🤭

Also thank you so much, it’s nice to know some people enjoy reading the poo I write.

Likes, Reblogs and Asks are always appreciated ❤️❤️

[wonwoosthetic]

Hi! So I have a newer idea for Daryl that popped up in my mind while shopping today. It's 100% okay if you don't want to write this, though! It is kind of long so I completely understand if you don't feel like writing this 💜

Basically, Daryl meets reader, aka Shane's fiancé, at the quarry and could instantly notice how toxic Shane was to her. She wasn't allowed to really talk to any of the guys in the camp and was forced to do most of the laundry to keep her from interacting with the rest of the group. However, one day while Shane's off doing you-know-what with Lori, Dale sends reader to go hunt with Daryl with a compound bow that he'd found. To Daryl's surprise, she's amazing at hunting and they have a little convo about Shane. They then stumble across Shane and Lori going at it like rabbits but silently retreat, not making a scene. Back at the camp, when Shane returns, reader simply just places the ring back in his hand and tells him they're over. Being free to do what she wants, she starts getting closer with Daryl over the next month or so, and when they get to the CDC, her and Daryl have this cute moment with a few people watching them and then Glenn, in his drunken stupor, makes a comment about what a cute couple they are. Cue the sudden realizations from both sides that they like each other. Can end with a confession or not. <33

a/n – first of all, to everyone who reads this: you better check Krys out! I am absolutely IN LOVE with everything she writes (Daryl and Hazel is my favourite but literally everything is a masterpiece!) second: to get a request from one of my favourite authors on this app here is an ABSOLUTE HONOUR and I truly truly hope that I could somehow reach your expectations!!!! Thank you so much for sending me it, and I really hope you and everyone that reads this enjoys it ˙ᵕ˙ thank you for marking my start in writing for Daryl now too!😊

A little side note: surprise, I still can’t write short stuff, but bc tumblr is a bitch and is messing with long stuff I post, I decided to make 2 parts, so I can truly involve everything I planned, I hope that’s okay!!🤍🤍

masterlist

word count – 7.4k

pairing – daryl dixon x fem!reader, shane walsh x ex!fem!reader (rarely)

warnings – cursing, mentions of sex, infidelity, toxic man

Don‘t Talk To Strangers Or You Might Fall In Love – Pt. 1

Later in the evening, the women gathered down at the quarry once again. With each holding onto a basket of some sort, carrying the laundry of the rest of the camp residents, they had found their usual spot by the water. Their hands were already starting to get wrinkly by the amount of clothes they had to wash - it had only been a couple of days, and there was already a pile of it.

A wince from the oldest woman of the group made all three heads snap towards her, their eye following her carefully.

"Everything okay?" Jacqui asked, stopping mid-movement before she set down the soaked t-shirt she was holding.

Carol was quick to brush off her concerned tone, sending the woman a quick tight smile as she re-adjusted her position on the ground.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she cleared her throat. "Just... a stone."

The other women shared a quick knowing look. Yes, the surface they were sitting on was mostly stone, but not enough to get hurt or even wince the way Carol just did. She must've hit one of her bruises against the hard ground. One of the many that decorated her skin. While some of them she had clearly been able to hide underneath her clothing, the women couldn't help but notice the ones on her arms. And while some seem to fade, it didn't take much longer for new ones to appear just a day later.

"You know," Amy jumped into the conversation. "You... you don't have to share a tent with him." Everybody immediately knowing, who she meant. "You could stay in the RV, or-"

"I'm okay, Amy. Please." Carol's tone made the younger woman stop again, going right back to the task at hand. While you had hoped you'd go back to finish off your work in silence, Jaqui had other plans as she raised the volume of her voice to reach you, who was sitting a little further off.

"Well, speaking of shitty husbands." Getting a scoff out of the older woman. "Where's Shane, Y/N?" A chuckle erupted from Amy. 

"Huh?" Your head shot up at the mention of his name. You found three awaiting pairs of eyes fixed on you, sending an uncomfortable rush down your spine.

"Where's your husband?" Amy repeated the question, her voice holding a slightly more gentle tone.

"He's not my husband. Just... fiancé." You shrugged. "I don't know...," mumbling as you were almost too embarrassed to admit. "He said something about going hunting."

Jacqui let out an annoyed huff of air. "That was hours ago. It's getting dark soon, doesn't he think-"

"I trust him to know how to keep himself safe. He knows what he's doing," you told her mindlessly, pouring the now dirty water back into the river in front of you. 

You knew how most of the group felt about Shane. He had declared himself as the leader of your little group, thinking his status as a sheriff made him the right fit despite some of the eye-rolls and annoyed sighs it had gotten from the rest in return. It didn't seem to bother him, not even a little bit. You had tried to defend him, wanting to explain his plan of action and knowledge to the others, but he had shushed you down quickly. His own stance was enough for him to stand in front of the group of people, promising to lead them well and try to figure out how to move forward in the, what you'd now call, apocalypse.

While he was securing his place as the tough leader, commanding each person around and giving them a set role in the group, you had tried to find a sense of community. If you were to go and travel further with these people, might as well try to create some form of comradery. But that was brought to a halt before you could even truly start. By Shane.

'They're not your friends. They're just random people. We don't know them and we don't gotta know them.' He had told you. You had tried to start an argument, wanting to explain that while you didn't know most of them just yet, you might as well start now if you're going to spend more time in an enclosed area with them. 

'Let's keep an eye out for Lori and Carl. She just lost her husband, for God's sake.' He never really explained just how he knew that Rick was officially dead, but the two members of the Grimes family seemed to be his only concern. The fact that you had known Glenn for a while now and considered him a close friend, almost a younger brother, didn't even register with him. He was just 'another dirty man, just like the rest of them' to Shane. He had made his opinion of the members of your group very clear. They're strangers. If it wasn't about Lori and Carl, it wasn't important. Why you were the one washing their clothes though was still beyond you though.

Jacqui was just about to open her mouth again, not wanting to drop the topic of conversation just yet, but a loud voice from up the quarry got your attention.

"Ya just don't give a shit, ya old bastard!" Daryl's uncanny accent echoed through the open area.

While a deep sigh tumbled from Carol's lips, Amy tried to ignore the fight a few feet away from you and Jacqui shook her head.

"These Dixon brothers, I swear to God... I don't understand why we haven't made them leave yet."

"Daryl's a good hunter," Amy commented quietly with a slight shrug.

"Yeah, and selfish," the older woman spat back, "And Merle? He's nothing but dragging everyone here down."

You decided to leave the scene in silence, not wanting to add anything to the conversation. You believed that everyone had a good reason for acting and behaving the way they were. You'd like to think that your good nature was part of the reason why Shane fell in love with you. Your years of dealing with children coming from troubled families had taught you that there's mostly good in almost everyone, just that most hadn't had the chance to find that side of them yet. In some ways, the Dixon brothers' attitudes reminded you of them. 

Back in the camp, you brought the washing bowl back to where the rest of the clean laundry was already hanging to dry. Before you could go any further, hoping to find some alone time in your tent, Dale's voice made you stop.

"Y/N!"

You looked up at the top of his RV, where he had secured a chair, a small table and an umbrella to keep the sun from frying his skin.

"Hey, Dale," you smiled at the older man, who copied your facial expression. While some had come to find him to be a 'typical grumpy old man' - and by some you mean Shane - you and Dale had gotten closer over the short time you had spent in the group. He reminded you of your dad, who at that point in time was God knows where. You hoped he found a group similar to yours and was trying to find his place in the world you would now be living in.

"You know how to use a bow and arrow, right?" He asked you, remembering the story you had told him.

You nodded, shielding your eyes with one hand as the sun was starting to make them hurt. "My dad taught me a little, why?"

"Look what I found," he grinned before turning around to pick something up. He crouched down, now with a compound bow in his grip as he tried to get it down to you. With quick steps, you got closer, your eyes brightening up at the sight.

"Oh my god... Dale!" Your smile only widened once you got your hands on the bow. You let your hand glide over the metal, finding it to be heavier than expected. It was still in perfect condition, but you couldn't even finish admiring it before your eyes found another item being dropped down at you.

"Those were next to it," Dale added as he handed you a bag holding multiple arrows that were hopefully supposed to go with the bow. He watched your smile as you couldn't take your eyes off the archery tool. "You think you know how to handle that thing?"

"I mean... my dad taught me how to use a longbow, but... can't be that hard, right?"

The older man couldn't even answer you as a scoff erupted from behind you, followed by the familiar scruff voice of Darly.

"Ya think it's that easy." Stating it more than wondering. Knowing not to start a conversation with him unless truly needed, only able to imagine how Shane would react if he found you talking to him, you decided to ignore his comment, focusing back on Dale who seemed to have done the same.

"Where did you find it?" You asked him.

"Oh just... from a house a few minutes away. Thought you could use it."

"I don't know when yet, but... I'll try," you smiled at him.

"How about you go and try it out now?" He suddenly asked you.

His question made your head shoot back up to look at him in wonder. "Now? What do you mean?"

He sighed. "It's gonna get dark soon and Shane and Lori aren't back yet, we should try-"

"Lori?" Her name fell from your lips as you glanced around the area, only finding the youngest Grimes sitting in the grass, entertaining himself with some sticks and stones. "Where is she?"

Dale shrugged. "Said something about finding berries and whatnot-" Another scoff from behind you made him stop to shoot Daryl an annoyed glance. "I think we should try to at least get something to eat for the kids. And if they're not back anytime soon, they won't have dinner."

"What? My huntin' skills ain't enough for you, old man?" The younger Dixon brother shot up from his crouched position on the floor, nudging his head up at Dale, who was clearly annoyed by his attitude.

"A squirrel isn't gonna feed an entire group. Take Y/N with you and try finding something."

"Dale-"

"Shane's not here, honey," he immediately stopped you, apparently already knowing what your argument would be. "I think he'll be okay, knowing you were out finding something to eat for the kids."

"That asshole would rather watch 'em kids die than send her huntin' with any of us!" Daryl spat back, ignoring you standing right next to him.

He turned your head towards him. "Don't talk about him like that." Speaking to him in a much softer tone than he just did, only getting a shake of his head and an annoyed mumble in return before he turned his back towards you, making his way towards the woods. A quick glance back up at Dale made him nudge his head towards the direction the archer had just disappeared into. You could either get sulky and refuse to go with the man who had clearly other interests than to go hunting with you or you could be the bigger person and focus on bringing something into the community. Even if that meant rebelling against your partner's order to stay at the camp and focusing on the laundry in the quarry. You decided on the latter, knowing that he'd find something to get annoyed at one way or another.

With a sigh, you nodded to Dale's proposal and swung the bag of arrows over your shoulder. Turning around to follow the way Daryl had just strutted, your eyes found his silhouette already between the trees. It was uncanny. Anyone could tell it was him. His zero-fucks attitude and his arms just casually hanging by his side- The pop of his hips with each step he took just underlined the sass that man possessed almost making you chuckle.

Unlike a lot of the other members of the group, you didn't necessarily dislike him. His brother was a totally different subject. They were difficult to deal with and most definitely not the teamwork type of personalities - not directly at least. You had noticed the multiple times Daryl would vanish from sight, only to come back a few hours later with a few dead squirrely thrown over his shoulder, that he would then give to the group after skinning them. It was absolutely disgusting, to say the least, but he did his part to be a valuable part of the community, even if he might had been a unique character and more challenging to deal with. 

What Merle's issue was, you had yet to discover, but the man didn't intrigue you enough to bore into his background story.

A good few minutes in, you still hadn't caught up with the archer, his steps being way bigger and faster than yours. Panting, you hoped he would hear you.

"Can you slow down for a second? Please."

Not following your words, Daryl kept up his pace, only turning his head slightly. "Don't need yer husband to see us together out'ere or we'll be the ones rotatin' over the fire instead of a dear."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment, even scoffing loudly at what you had just heard, and mumbling too quietly for him to hear.

Your reaction made him suddenly stop in his tracks and turn his entire body towards you. "What? Ya think I'm kiddin'? I seen the way he talks to ya and everyone else in that godforsaken camp. Treats everyone like shit if it ain' abou' that woman or the kid."

Your glare didn't even intimidate him a bit. Neither did he budge when you took a daring step closer to him.

"How about you focus on yourself and stay out of other people's business? He's trying to be a leader, alright?"

"More like tryna be a dictator. Mussolini woulda loved him." Without another word, he turned around to continue his way further into the woods, leaving you in slight surprise rooted into the ground. A shake of your head and a deep breath brought you back into the present, making you follow him again. You tried to keep the distance between big enough to keep him away from you, let close enough to still have him in view - you sure as hell weren't going to get lost in the middle of the woods.

Looking down to be careful about each step you took, you held onto the strap across your chest. With your view on the ground, you didn't notice Daryl having stopped again, making you suddenly bump into him.

"Oh- sorry." You took a quick jump back.

He had lifted up his arm to the side, keeping you from going any further. Only after looking up, you could follow his gaze, finding what had gotten the archer so enthralled. Between the bushes surrounding you ahead on a tree, there were two chipmunks perked up on a branch. They hadn't noticed you yet and if it hadn't been for Daryl's eagle eye, you had to admit, you would've overlooked them as well.

Suddenly, overly confident, you realised this was the moment you could prove your skill. A skill you hadn't trained for in a few months, but you had long enough training before that, you believed. Swiftly, you grabbed a bow from the bag on your back and took a slow step back, careful not to make any loud noise to disrupt the two animals. Daryl had his crossbow already sitting on his shoulder, his eye trained on the chipmunks as he kept totally still.

"On three," you whispered as you drew the bow in your grip. You couldn't see the archer's slight confusion as he didn't budge, only knowing he had heard you when he suddenly started counting down. As soon as the number 'three' left his lips, you let your arrow shoot through the sky, him going at the exact same time, pressing the trigger on his crossbow. The two bows hit the chipmunks perfectly in sync, making them fall from the branch and onto the floor.

"Yes!" You whispered to yourself in a cheer, brushing past Daryl with a wide smile on your face as you made your way over to where your prey was waiting for you.

The man continued to stand still, only his eyes following your movements as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Only a few seconds later, he found you standing up straight again, proudly holding up one of the chipmunks. He followed your steps, coming to a stop as he looked down at the other animal still on the floor.

"Was that beginner's luck or...?" He asked you as he gathered it off the ground and took out his arrow before taking its companion out of your hands to put both of them into the small bag he had secured by his hips. Your eyes drifted to his arms. Glistening in the sun behind you. He had been collecting dirt all over his body, but the sweat now on his biceps was making it look only half as bad.

You shrugged, not even trying to hide the small smile still on your lips. "Maybe a little since I haven't used one of these in a while," holding up the compound bow.

"Who taught ya?" In surprise, you glanced at him, not expecting to continue the conversation as you went back to resume your hunting journey through the woods.

"My dad."

You noticed his steps suddenly slowing down again, making you turn towards him in wonder. A finger brought up to his lips told you everything you needed to know. Daryl started looking around carefully, while you just turned in a circle, wondering what he had heard. And then you saw it. A 'geek', as Glenn had labelled them, was making its way towards you.

"How on earth did you hear that?" You whispered at him, but the archer just propped his crossbow up again, ready to take out the thing coming dangerously close towards you. The noises coming from the dead had only then started to register with you too. Maybe it was your hearing turning on you or maybe Daryl had just a trained ear. Realising that he was close to shooting again, you stopped him with a hand.

"Can I?"

With a careful look, he lowered his weapon again, motioning for you to go ahead, bringing a small grin to your face. His hand was quicker than yours as he pulled out a bow from your bag, handing it over to you before leaving you to do your thing. Drawing it tightly, you didn't let a lot more seconds pass before sending the arrow straight through the geek's eye.

"Fuck, yeah-" Grinning to yourself for a split second before you realised the words that had dropped from your tongue. "Sorry," you were quick to apologise, getting a look of pure confusion from Daryl in return.

"What? Ya not allowed to curse or somethin'?" Oh, if he only knew. After years of being with Shane, you had found yourself truly swearing off the usage of any curse words as your fiancé had labelled them 'unladylike', sending you a look of disapproval each time it would escape you accidentally. Strict looks had turned into warnings, which then turned into arguments, so you had just learned to bite your tongue.

You were about to head up to get it back, back Daryl's voice stopped you.

"Stay'ere." He walked past you towards the now truly dead thing to get your arrow back. After ripping it out of its head again, he took a good look around, turning his entire body before coming back to you.

"They're usually not alone," he pushed the arrow into your hands. "Let's see what else we can find and get the hell outta 'ere before it gets dark."

You just nodded in agreement before following him again. This time, you noticed walking side by side with him as he had slowed down his strides.

To you, it seemed like a relatively comfortable silence, but Daryl didn't agree with that apparently as his grunt slashed through it,

"Yer husband know you can hunt?"

A sigh evidently fell from your lips, but you were able to hold back a roll of your eyes. He was trying to keep up the conversation and you couldn't not admit that you quite enjoyed not necessarily having to walk in complete silence. Even if it meant talking about Shane apparently.

"Don't know," you shrugged.

"What d'ya mean, ya don't know? Yer never talked about that? Ain't he supposed to know ya inside out or some shit like that?" You knew, deep down his words held nothing but truth, yet, you had learned to ignore remarks like that, knowing that Shane was just a different kind of partner than most.

"Why should he know about something he's not interested in?" As long as you weren't out on your own and at home in the evening with a homecooked meal waiting for him, he had never truly cared about what you did. Lying, you'd be out with your friends for a few hours while doing something completely different had gotten you far. Him working late hours most days only helped. You never even thought about telling him about the childhood hobby you had started at 8 years old and had carried with you up until well into adulthood. While you had left home as soon as you had turned 18, knowing Atlanta was the place you'd want to study in, archery was one of the things that had kept you connected to home. To your dad.

"That don't sound righ' if ya ask me," he commented.

"Well," you couldn't help but sigh again, "good thing he's not your issue to worry about."

"But he is." His comment made you stop. Daryl was quick to notice you not walking beside him anymore, making him stop and turn. "I gotta worry about him havin' my balls on a stick if he sees me talkin' to ya."

"Then don't!"

"Then why d'ya follow me into the woods, huh?" It looked like you were about to start a fight with Daryl Dixon.

"Because Dale asked me to. Because no one trusts you to do anything good for the group on your own," you spat at him, continuing your way, making sure to bump his shoulder as you passed him.

The archer scoffed, "Yeah because everyone trusts ya lil' husband oh so much to care for every-"

You came to another halt. "He's not my husband! We're engaged, you ignorant fuck!"

"Oh, careful," Daryl eyed you, "What would'e say if he heard ya talkin' like that, huh?" Sending you a provocative look that made you take a deep breath in, trying to contain your anger.

"I think you got a brother to worry about, Dixon. Enough drama there, don't snoop into other people's lives."

That seemed to have done the job as he kept quiet while you walked ahead. It took a few seconds before you heard him behind you again, proud of yourself for leaving him stunned even if it was just for a short moment. You didn't want to snap at him like that, you had to admit. It just came out and if you could take it back, you would've. He wasn't directly snooping, you knew that. You weren't here to make enemies, at least you didn't want to. You desperately wanted to get along with everyone as best as possible. Not meaning that you'd have to become close friends with each person in the group, just good colleagues.

With your mind deep in thought, overthinking every word you had just dropped, you didn't notice the ruffling leaves close by. Not until you felt a tug on your arm that made you stop. Almost annoyed, you turned around, only to find Daryl lifting his finger to his lips, telling you to keep quiet. At first, you looked at him in confusion but the moment you heard a grunt, your ears perked up as you started to glance around. You had just ran into a geek with the Dixon brother reminding you that they usually travelled in bigger groups, meaning the possibility of another one being close by wasn't that small.

The grunting continued making your frown only deepen. It didn't necessarily sound like one of the dead, you realised. Daryl started moving around slowly and as quietly as possible, you following close behind, keeping ducked down just in case.

Suddenly, you caught another noise. One that sounded less like a grunt and more like a... moan? Clearly just as confused as you, the archer turned around to meet your gaze for a split second. 

With each step the two of you took further, the noises became much clearer. Shuffling leaves, grunts, and clear moans were now hitting your ear. One specific huff of air made a cold shiver run down your spine. It's like your body knew before your eyes could even see it.

Daryl and you hit a raised ground that kept you from seeing where the noise was coming from as you were still crouched down. But as soon as you let your back straighten, every last bit of air left your lungs. You saw the auburn hair spread out on the grass first. Directly next to it, an all too familiar head of black curls, the face deep in her neck, muting the moans coming from him. With each pound, they became heavier and louder. You already knew it. Right as Shane lifted his head though, you could feel yourself wanting to scream. And if it wasn't for the hand suddenly covering your mouth, you would've.

You were pulled onto the ground, back into your crouched position, and dragged back from where you came from. As hard as you tried to fight the grip the archer had on you, it was no use as he was clearly much stronger than you. The leaves and branches brushed against your pants as he kept tugging on you to keep you right up against him, not daring to loosen the hand covering your lip

Once it seemed far away enough for him, Daryl let go of you, letting you fall to the ground completely as you desperately choked up for air.

"You bastard-" You went at him, only for him to cover your mouth once again.

He pulled you in hard. "Ya screamin' 'ere and an entire hoard will hear ya. Keep quiet," he hissed at you in a whisper. You never noticed the soft specks of green that decorated his striking blue eyes. Not until then.

A quick moment of silence followed as your eyes suddenly filled with tears. Daryl's gaze softened immediately, removing his hand from you as if your skin had turned into burning hot metal.

While you had started to sob in the middle of the woods, trying to keep as quiet as possible, the archer didn't know what else to do, but to stand next to you, his eyes fixed on your shaking shoulders. He wasn't the right person to console someone. Nor did he even know how.

"I told ya he's an asshole," he mumbled, clearly not at the right moment as you sent him an angry frown.

"You didn't tell me sh-"

"I tried tellin' ya!" Raising his voice just a bit to turn his tone stern, yet keeping the volume low enough. "I told ya he ain't interested in anyone but that woman and her son."

"I want to go back," you sniffled, feeling your chest painfully tightening.

"Go back to 'em?!"

"Back to the camp, idiot!" You snapped at him, your hand flying up to your chest. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up." Trying to take deep breaths in that just continuously proved to be hard as you only choked up more. Coughing mixed with your sobs, you fell onto your knees, your hand clutching the very top of your chest as you tried to breathe.

"Hey-" Daryl fell onto the ground right in front of you, his rough hands grabbing you by your shoulders to pull you straight, trying to get you to look at him. "Calm down," he strictly told you.

"H-He-" you sobbed, "he... fucked her. He just-", coughing again as the air got stuck in your throat.

"I know- hey-" you lowered your head to look at the ground beneath you, only for Darly to grab your chin and make you look back up again. "He's a fuckin' idiot. Don't cry 'bout him."

"W-What did I do?" You asked, technically hypothetically, as you continued to choke on your own cries. "What do- How?!"

"Ya didn't do anythin'," he tried to console you. "He's a dumb fuckin' bastard. A coward. A stupid mongo-"

"Lori... I-I thought-," stopping yourself again as another sob shot through your body.

"It's okay," Daryl whispered, "don't fuckin' cry for 'em. Ya think they would cry for ya?"

"What about Carl?!" You ignored his comment, instead continuing to throw out whatever came to your head.

The archer shook his head, "That ain' your problem to worry 'bout."

"She- she just lost her husband... a-and now this?!" 

Before Daryl could say anything, you brushed off his hands from your shoulders and raked yourself up.

Still sniffling, you looked around. "We gotta go back." Noticing that the sun had already started to set and no one was supposed to be out in the dark.

With a grunt, he copied you, pushing himself up to stand again while his eyes continued to follow you as you tried to get yourself back together. You could feel his gaze burning holes into your skin, making you look up. Cheeks tears stained, burning read. Your eyes were swollen, still letting single drops of tears escape as you slowly managed to even out your breathing.

"Let's go back." You re-secured the bag and bog on your shoulder before turning around to walk to the camp. A sigh escaped Daryl's lips as he shook his head slightly before jogging up towards you, stopping you with his hands back on your shoulders. He swiftly turned you around, only to let go again, his steps slowing down to let you walk ahead. This time, in the right direction.

The way back was spent mostly in silence, only a few remarks coming from the archer each time he had to tell you to either turn right or left. In no time, you had come back, finding most of the group either already back in their tents or gathered by the SUV. The sun had fully set, now the only source of natural light coming from the soft glow of the moon.

"There you are!" Dale called out as soon as his eyes found you. The smile that had started to spread on his lips fell quickly as soon as you got close enough to him to let him see the dishevelled state you were in. "What happened?" He gasped, but you just shook your head and made a quick B-turn towards your tent. The tent you shared with Shane.

The older man's tone changed quickly, clearly blaming one specific person for your mood as he followed behind you not much later.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Dale snapped at Daryl, only to get a scoff in return.

"How abou' you ask her asshole fiancé." The Dixon brother left him with that, ignoring the looks of the people around them. He opened his satch to take out the two chipmunks you had caught, only to throw them onto a set-up table and disappear down towards the quarry.

In the comfort of the plastic walls, with the bow and arrows set down outside, you had let yourself let go one more time, the tears not needing more than mere seconds before running down your cheeks again. You couldn't continue crying about this.

'Ya think they would cry for ya?'

Daryl's words rang through your mind. You hated to admit that he was most probably right.

Your relationship with Shane wasn't tense. At least until a few months ago. It had always been a little bit more difficult than you would've liked to, but you remembered the words of your mother, saying 'marriage is hard', making you realise that most likely each couple had their fair share of issues to work through. And you and Shane seemed to just have a good amount of those. Either disagreements, discussions, or different ideas and wants. Everything from as simple as the colour of your living room walls, to which state you'd have your wedding in - since your grandma was almost bedridden, you had proposed to have at least the officiant ceremony in Ohio, but Shane was, surprise, against that.

You glanced down at your ring. A gold band, holding a small square diamond right in the middle. It was beautiful. Even though you had always solely worn silver jewellery and had mentioned the classic round diamond as your dream style. Still, you had accepted the proposal. You looked past the smirks he would send waitresses and secretaries. Ignored comments he made about other people in your life. You had even given in and promised him not to get too close to anyone in the group that was right outside.

It was never 'controlling' in your eyes. You didn't know any better. But while you had to lock yourself away, making doing laundry your only form of 'entertainment', he was having fun with a presumed widow. Whereas he had told you and everyone else that he would be spending the day trying to hunt down 'something big'. 

You shook your head. You had all the reasons to leave him already months ago and yet you didn't. A lot of your friends had told you you'd regret marrying him. But he had managed to get into your head, making you think that they were the crazy ones. That all of your 'dumb sorority girlfriends' had no idea what they were talking about.

Comments and stares were one thing you could look past, but cheating... you had to draw the line somewhere. You remembered all the times your college friends came crying into the dorm, sobbing into their pillows as they complained about their boyfriends fucking around with other girls on campus. Everyone would gather and support them with one opinion: dump him. Leave him. He doesn't deserve you.

'I told ya he ain't interested in anyone but that woman and her son.'

There was Daryl's voice again in the back of your head. Screaming at you. If even he could see it, yet you were too blind to realise it...

With one final deep breath in, you gathered the sleeping bag you had claimed for yourself into your arms, along with your pillow. You managed to drag everything out of the tent, suddenly feeling more free than ever.

Looking around, you found no one sitting outside anymore, indicating most had gone to bed, but the light inside the RV made you hopeful. You couldn't sleep in your shared tent tonight. Or ever again. And Dale was your only other choice. With everything packed in your arms, you made your way over to the vehicle, knocking on the door with your foot. Two voices made you look behind you, your face immediately falling when you found Shane and Lori coming back from the woods. They took their goddamn time.

The door opened, catching your attention again. Dale looked at you in confusion but before he could say anything, you beat him to it.

"Can I sleep here tonight?"

Forget about your age. Suddenly, you felt like a little kid again. Too scared to sleep on their own, begging their parents to let them sleep in their room.

"Y/N?" Shane's rough voice called out your name, making your heartbeat quicken.

You looked up at the older man in panic. "Please."

With no hesitation, Dale nodded, stepping aside to let you walk in, ushering you inside with his hand. Daryl's remark from earlier had engraved itself in his brain as soon as he found the sheriff strutting over to his RV in big steps.

"What is she doing, Dale?" He wondered, his voice holding slight anger to it. "Y/N!" He shouted out your name again, but you gave him no response.

The older man stopped Shane from coming any closer.

"You better leave, son."

"What the fuck did I do?!" He unknowingly asked before getting the RV's door closed in his face.

The moment silence took over the enclosed room, Dale turned to you, now sitting on the small sofa.

"What the fuck did he do?"

If there was one person in this apocalyptic world that you had come to trust, it was Dale. He had already let you into his home, he deserved to get a reason for it.

You could already feel the tears filling your eyes again. Both of you ignored the knocks on the door, the old man's eyes fixed solely on you as he sat down by the small dining table, ready to wait patiently for you to answer his question.

"He... he cheated on me...," You couldn't hold back the sob that followed. "With Lori." The added remark made Dale's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He leaned back into his chair, taking off his hat to run a hand through his hair as he huffed out a chunk of air.

"Daryl and I- we saw them in the woods-," You let your head fall into the palms of your hand. The old man was quick back on his feet, on his way over to you.

"Oh, honey," sighing out, but stopping as the heavy knocks on the door continued. With an annoyed huff, he rushed over to the door to pull it open.

"Get the fuck away from my RV!" Shouting at Shane, not even giving him a moment to answer as he smashed the door close again.

"I-I don't know what to do." You admitted in sobs, glancing up at the man as he got closer to you, making space to sit down next to you. A comforting arm found its way around your shoulder while his other hand rubbed your upper arm.

"That man doesn't deserve an angel like you," he whispered at you, hoping his calming voice would soothe your cries. "He clearly doesn't know what he lost with a stupid act like that."

"He proposed to me," you showed him the ring in desperation. "Only to cheat on me?"

"What can I tell ya, kid... young men are...," Dale sighed as he shook his head. "Dumb... and blind. They think they own the world."

You continued to sob in the man's arms. Listening to his soft voice as he spoke to you while you kept on your rambles of despair. Why Lori out of all people? You used to go out on double dates with your partners. You had known Rick Grimes for a good few years now. He was a good man. You had thought Lori was a good woman. But there she went, sleeping with an engaged man. The colleague, and best friend of her husband. Who may or may not be dead. Maybe Rick was gone, but you were still there. Only one partner of the cheating couple was widowed. The other part was still very much in a committed relationship. Or so you thought.

"W-What do I do now?" You wondered out loud. "How am I supposed to continue this?" Not necessarily talking about your relationship with Shane, but the situation altogether.

"You don't." Daryl's simple but straightforward answer made you look up. In the meantime, your sobs had quieted down again.

"What?"

"You tell him," he strictly told you. "You tell him what you saw. And you end it. Men like that... they don't change."

"God...," you fell back into the cushions behind you, running your hands down your face as you wiped the tears away. "Was I just... not good enough for him anymore? Why would he do something like this?"

"I wish I could tell ya, honey. But don't think that this has anythin' to do with you," Dale's stern voice made you glance at him. "Men like him don't think. You think he really thought of the possible consequences of his actions?"

You shrugged.

"He didn't. If he did, he wouldn't have done it. And men like don't deserve a second chance. Hell- they don't even deserve a first chance. But they're charming and whatnot, and before you know it, they're havin' their dicks in other women, breaking hearts of the ones that actually care about them."

You decided to stay quiet, letting his words sink in and register with you.

"You don't deserve that, honey."

Nodding your head, you took a deep breath in, wiping your nose. "I know..." With a sigh, you pushed yourself to stand up. "I have to talk to him."

"You sure, you wanna do that tonight?" The man carefully asked you, but you had already made up your mind, so you just continued to nod.

Quietly, you left the RV, of course not before Dale promised to set up a bed for you to stay in inside his movable home. You knew you had found the confidence to face your- Shane. Yet, your shaking legs and hands almost betrayed you. Realising, you didn't even truly think about how to start the conversation, the anxiety inside of you only started to bubble up more, hitting its highest point when you suddenly saw Shane exiting your tent.

His eyes fixed on you in the dark, finding your silhouette coming towards him thanks to the light shining through the RV's windows.

"Y/N-" he started, but you interrupted him right away.

"It's over."

Shane's eyebrows scrunched together. "What?"

"It's over," you repeated, finding your voice slightly shakier than you would've liked to. You glanced down your hands, almost mindlessly, wrapping your fingers around the gold band. Once, the sight of the shimmering ring on your finger made you smile, now it just shot another wave of sadness through your body. Almost shakingly, you took the last step, pulling the gold band off your finger, the metal leaving your skin, making you breathe out heavily.

"Hey- hey," the sheriff rushed closer to you, making you scoot back in reflex. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" You spat at him, a salty chuckle tumbling from your lips. There was a slight change in expression on his face as he lifted his hands in defence.

"Listen-"

"No, you listen," you stopped him again. You didn't even let your brain think about what words were about to fall from your lips. "Don't even try-" You had to stop yourself, taking a deep breath in, trying to promise yourself not to cry in front of the man that you had lost so many nerves to.

"What the hell are you doing?" He continued to ask you, his frown only deepening.

But you just continued to shake your head, ignoring the anger starting to lace his voice. You had seen Shane angry before. Even angry at you. And it scared you. But right now, the anger, you were trying to hold back, should terrify everyone involved in this situation.

Taking a few steps closer to stop right in front of him, you lifted your hand that was still tightly holding onto the ring you had once worn and shown off proudly. Once Shane opened his palm underneath it, you let it drop down.

"It's over." Before he could ask you anything more, you left him with one last comment hanging in the air. "Have fun with Lori."

Turning around, you could hear his heavy huffs and the callouts of your name, yet he didn't even dare to try and reach out to you, leaving you to make your way back towards the RV. In the back, the sound of him knocking over some of the empty cans you had gathered, filled the silence. Up ahead, you found a silhouette standing still, almost scaring you if it wasn't for the distinct stance you were able to recognise immediately. The dim light illuminated Daryl's scowl as he had clearly watched the scene from a distance.

Arrived at the door of the vehicle, you wanted to at least send him a tight smile, a goodnight and somewhat of a thank you, but the archer had already disappeared again in his usual nature.

I CAN‘T WAIT TO POST PART 2🙈🤗🥰 I loved writing this so much omg

this is me officially stating I'm writing for the man that is Daryl Dixon now too :)

[confused-pyramid]

I'll Be Yours In A Landslide | s7 interlude

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem!receiving), p in v, angst

a/n: IMPORTANT UPDATE: Sorry for the wait guys, I've been super busy with graduating soon and other life updates, so I haven't had any time to write:( I really wanted to give some sort of a tie-up for this series at least for the time being, so I wrote a little interlude for y'all. I am hoping to come back at some point, but for now, I'm putting an indefinite hold on this series. I really appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten from people, and I hope to talk to you all soon:) Title is from State Lines by Novo Amor

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"How could you?"

You push past him, shoving your way into his apartment the moment he opens the door. You were fuming your entire drive over, but now that he's standing in front of you, your mind is a battlefield of warring emotions: I hate you, I love you, I missed you.

"You knew the whole time that she was alive," you gasp, already feeling out of breath, "and you kept it from us. From me."

"I'm sorry." It seems to be the only thing he can say these days. He has said it so many times, he's lost count, but it doesn't make this better. He knows he hurt you, even if he didn't have a choice. "Please just sit down and we can talk."

"No," you shoot back, shaking him off as he tries to step closer. "I'm not gonna calm down right now. I've been keeping this in for months, Aaron. I was there for everyone and no one was there for me."

His brow screws together and you know you're hitting exactly the right spots to make him feel worse, but you can't help it.

"I wanted to tell you," he says, his voice almost frantic as you pace back and forth across his living room. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you all of it, but I couldn't."

"You should've tried harder," you yell, knowing how unfair that is even as you're saying it. His face falls and he turns his palms towards you, like he's about to surrender, but that isn't what you want. You want the fight. It's what you've been waiting for for months.

You open your mouth to yell at him again, but then his eyes find yours, and he looks at you in that way he used to...like it's the first time he's seeing you all over again, and suddenly you're walking toward him. His eyes widen as you crash into him, and before he can understand what's happening, your lips are on his.

It takes him way too long to realize what's happening, but his hands move faster than his brain. They latch onto your waist, tugging you closer, pressing your chest to his, as you gasp into his mouth. When his brain finally catches up, he swears he can see fireworks as you grasp onto him, your lips so soft over his. He's been drowning for months, years, wanting you, waiting for you, pushing you away, and now you're here and he can finally breathe.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against your lips, trying to emphasize how grateful he is to have you back, but you just bring your hands up between you and tear off his open button down before chucking it to the ground.

"Shut up," you mutter, a pang of hurt cutting through even as you try to sound angry. "Just kiss me."

He doesn't make you ask twice. His lips come back to yours as he walks you back towards the couch, your knees buckling when they hit the seat.

Aaron sinks down and pulls you on top of him as you grab at every part of him, your fingers tugging at his collar and your teeth brushing over his bottom lip. The kiss is harsh and he gasps as your nails drag over his skin, but he doesn't care. You're here.

He's falling, succumbing to the overwhelming desire rising up within him, but before he can let go, he pulls back momentarily. "You're sure? I don't want you to regre-"

"I want you," you whisper, the last word turning to a sob against your will. "I'm so mad at you, but I love you and I want you, so please don't stop."

His eyes squint with shame and for a moment you almost feel guilty for how harsh you are being, but then the desire returns and he pulls you down on top of him. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, and the roughness of his beard feels unfamiliar, yet exciting. When his mouth moves down your jaw, the scratch of his beard against your skin ignites a fire within you.

You claw at his back, trying to pull his tee shirt over his head, and he reaches down, helping you wrest it off and onto the floor. The movement sends your hips back over his groin and he lets out a low groan as he tears your button-down open.

When your top falls to the floor as well, you both pause, finally realizing the gravity of what you're doing. Your eyes drag down his chest, over the thick scars lining his abdomen and collarbone, and soon your fingers are following along, tracing a path of fire over the roughest and most beautiful parts of him. 

You gasp as his fingers ghost over the scar on your waist, where your bullet wound used to be, and before the tears in your eyes can fall, your lips are back on his. 

There's more urgency in your movements this time as you try to relish the feeling of his mouth over your pulse, your hips rolling over him. 

"Bedroom," you whisper as heat spreads between your legs, emanating from the grip of his hands on your thighs. "Now."

He doesn't waste a second as he wraps his arms around your body and stands up, lifting you along with him as he makes his way down the hall. His lips don't leave yours even as he pushes the door open with his back, and he only breaks away to toss you onto the bed. You hit the covers with a gasp, and you see his pupils darken with lust as he climbs over you, his pants already tightening. 

You can hardly believe he's back in your life again, and even as anger and hurt cloud your vision, he's here in front of you, and you need him as close as humanly possible.

"I want you too," he says suddenly, his eyes finding yours in a moment of earnestness. "So much...for so long."

Your throat thickens with tears again, and you can't decide whether you want to blink them away or let them fall, but then he quickly tugs your jeans and panties off in one go and every thought leaves your brain. 

He looks animalistic as he peppers kisses up your legs, his mouth warm and wet as he stops just before your core for an extra second to rile you up.

"Aaron," you groan, threading your fingers into his hair and tugging him forward. You won't beg, not right now, but he gets the idea.

He practically grins at your desperation, drawing it out a bit longer by sucking bruises into your thighs, before he finally goes where you are willing him to. Your head falls back with a gasp as he plunges his tongue down, licking a trail up your slit that has you writhing beneath him.

He presses his hands into your thighs, spreading them apart as your hips jut off the bed. His tongue feels like heaven as he works you open along with his fingers, getting you close within a matter of minutes. 

"Aaron, please-" you gasp out, your words cutting off as he hooks his finger up, his movements precise in a way that both surprises and exhilarates you. You're not even sure what you're asking him for, you just need more of him. 

It's like he can hear your thoughts, because his fingers start moving faster, and when your grip on his hair tightens, he lets out a low hum that vibrates up your core.

You are barely aware of what your legs are doing, but when he grabs your ankle and lifts your leg over his shoulder, your head flies back and you're moaning his name so loudly, you're afraid the neighbors will come knocking.

"Yes," you gasp, your fingers pulling at his hair harder you mean to.

He laves over your clit, alternating between sucking and licking, until you come apart under his tongue, your mouth falling open with a loud cry. 

You taste incredible, and he's so hard that his jeans have become uncomfortably tight, but even as you cry out his name, it's not enough. He wants to see you come apart under him.

Gripping your hips, he yanks you down so that you're lying directly beneath his body, eliciting a soft moan from you. Your eyes are wide with bliss as you look up at him, your eyelashes fluttering softly, and he has to grip the sheets beside your head to keep his pants from tightening any further.

His knee presses down on the bed between your thighs as he lifts you up and deftly unclasps your bra, before gently dropping it to the floor. When he returns his gaze back to you, his breath stutters as he takes in the sight before him.

"Beautiful," he whispers, almost as an afterthought. "You're so beautiful." 

He has always known it, but something about seeing you in his bed, like this, feels unbelievable. Like he somehow did everything exactly right. Except you didn't, his brain reminds him. You did everything wrong, and still got this lucky.

Maybe it is luck. But whatever it is that brought him here, he isn't going to waste another second thinking about it.

You help him tug his pants off, and when he chucks his boxers off right after, his cock springs free, hard and ready without you even touching him. Your mouth floods with saliva as his knee presses forward between your legs, and you reach down to take him in your hands, but he pushes you back with a small shake of his head.

He wants to feel you more than anything else in the world right now, but he's already so riled up, he's afraid to let you touch him until he's inside of you. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a foil packet to cover himself, before he lowers himself down.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice gruff even to his own ears.

You nod, your legs spreading as he lines himself up, and his breath gets stuck in his throat when he slowly pushes in. Your mouth falls open as he fills you up, taking his time to push forward until he's fully seated inside of you.

He's big enough that you need a few moments to adjust, but once he starts moving, a string of moans falls from your lips. He leans forward to press a kiss to your jaw, then your lips, and when he pulls back, his pupils are so dark you can barely make out the color of his eyes.

"You're perfect," he whispers against your skin as he presses his mouth to your neck, his hips slowly rocking into you. "You're everything."

After growing accustomed to his size, the stretch feels amazing, and you try to respond, but your head just falls back onto the pillow as waves of pleasure roll over you. You remember your dream from while he was gone, the hazy sequence that had you waking up in a heated fervor, and you can't help but think about how much better he is in real life. How you waited for so many years, and even when it hurt like hell, it was all still worth it.

He starts to thrust faster, and you hike your knees up, trying to change the angle to get him even deeper inside of you. When he hits the right spot, you let out a high gasp and your walls involuntarily squeeze around him.

"Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth as his rhythm falters slightly. "You can't do that." He dips down to press his lips to yours for a sharp kiss. "I'm already close."

"Me too," you cry, realizing it as it flies out of your mouth. "I'm so close."

Your words seem to flip a switch in his brain. You watch as his eyes darken and his rhythm picks back up, like he only has one goal and he won't stop until he gets it. 

You're starting to squeeze around him again, and he fists the comforter next to you as he thrusts faster, his other hand coming down between the two of you. It doesn't take him more than a few seconds to find your clit, and when his thumb flicks over it once, then twice, your breath stutters and your walls close around him so suddenly that he nearly finds his release as well.

You look magical as you fall apart below him, and he keeps moving inside of you, working you through it as he commits the image to memory. You let out a soft sigh as you come down from your high, but it only takes a few more thrusts for him to near the edge.

"Where do you want me?" he asks, his voice a low hum as you run your fingers through his hair, your nails scratching over his scalp.

You gasp quietly. "Come inside me. Please." 

He groans, picking up his pace again, and wraps his arms around you in an effort to bring you even closer. You press your lips to his as he releases, swallowing his gasps while he slowly comes down.

He pulls out slowly, taking care not to hurt you when you're sensitive, before heading into the bathroom. He returns after a minute with a small towel that he uses to carefully clean both of you up with. 

After tossing it away, he climbs back into the bed and tugs you close to him, your back pressing into his front like a pair of puzzle pieces. The day is starting to catch up with you, and you feel tiredness pull at your eyes as his chest rises and falls evenly behind you.

"I'm in love with you," he says suddenly, his voice hurried like he surprised even himself. "I'm sorry if it isn't the right time or if that isn't what you wanted from this, but-"

"Aaron," you cut him off, turning over so that you can reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. "I'm in love with you too. Of course I am."

He lets out a breath, and you can almost hear the relief in his sigh as he wraps an arm around you and tucks you into his side. Unsurprisingly, he's a furnace wrapped up beside you, but you can't bring yourself to move, especially with how much comfort his mere presence brings you.

You lay there for a while, taking this uninterrupted time to re-memorize his face as his breath evens out. You could never forget anything about him, but he's been gone for so long that you expect there are hundreds of new facets to him that you'll get to learn.

His eyes have been closed long enough that you assume he is asleep, but then his breath stutters and you look up at him as he squeezes you closer in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice sending reverberations through his chest. "I know you know I couldn't tell you everything, but I should have let you in more-"

"I don't want to talk about this right now." Your voice is strong, and he must hear the finality in your tone, because he immediately quiets down. "I know you're sorry...and we'll talk about this more in the morning. But right now, I just want to be here with you. I just got you back."

He's quiet for a moment, but you feel his chin dip down in a nod. "Morning then. Good night."

His arms tighten around you and you snuggle next to him, every part of you interweaving in an effort to get closer than you already are. 

That night, you have the best sleep you've had in years.

TAGLIST:@citrusiove, @yiiiikesmish, @mdanon027, @alice-w0rld, @beata1108, @bakugocanstompme, @raely-study, @himboelover, @hermionegalathynius, @rousethemouse, @calif0rniadreamin, @tolerateit13, @delusional-13s-blog, @madesavage05, @littlemisskavities, @love13tter, @domithebomi, @guacam011y, @averyhotchner, @silver-studios, @whosmys, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @chronicallybubbly, @shilphy87, @threespacemonkeys, @zaddyhotch, @slytherin-min99, @endofthexline, @thattookaturnforthenerdy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother’s friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

After dinner, you volunteer to do the dishes. It’s an easy way out of the awkward social cues and you find, it keeps your mom off your back so you can get a chapter in. You finish up, drying each and placing them neatly in the cupboards. Having defeated the dirty plates, you grab your book and head out to the porch. 

As the sun sets, the daytime heat dissipates into a mellow coolness. The smell of dew laces the fresh air. You lay back on the porch swing, feet up on the armrest as you read, the glow of the outside light giving just enough to make out the font. 

You plunge into the fictional realm head first. The buzz of crickets gives way to the eerie atmosphere of the underworld caverns and the night shifts in time with imaginary shadows. You are there with the party, trekking through the treacherous, waiting for a beast to surprise you. 

The front door swings open and hits the end of the swing. You squeak as the book slips free of your grasp and falls to the ground. You sit up as you crane to see over your shoulder, an orc-like silhouette adding to your fright. It isn’t real.  

Your vision clears and you return to reality. It’s only Sy. His eyes look just as startled as he looks down at you then his eyes skitter over to the ground. 

Before you can reach over the edge of the bench, Sy moves to grab the book. He lifts it and smooths the pages, dusting off the cover. He examines it before he hands it over. 

“Sorry, I’m a big lug sometimes,” he says as you accept the book and search for your place. 

“It’s fine,” you smile and keep your thumb between the pages. 

He reaches to rub the back of his neck then drags his hand over his beard. You noticed the same gesture several times during dinner and before that. It seems a habit that betrays a thoughtful mind. 

“Good book?” He gestures towards the novel. 

You look down and tilt your head, “it’s alright. Typical fantasy, you know?” 

“Ah,” he nods as the porch light leaves his features in darkness. 

“Mmhmm,” you smile and sit straight on the swing, your legs dangling over the edge. 

He steps closer and puts his hand on the post that holds the bench aloft, “erm, dinner was good.” 

“Oh? Yeah, it was.” 

“I know ya made some of it so... wanted to say so.” 

“Uh, right,” you laugh nervously, “yeah, guess I did.” 

He’s quiet and you’re just as speechless. The night breeze does little to cool the scald of tension all around you. Why is he talking to you? He should be grunting at Isaac’s dumb jokes. 

“Anyway, gotta head out,” he shifts on his feet, “you have a good night.” 

“Er, sure, you too,” you cheep. 

“Mmm, sure will,” he answers and lets go of the swing, turning to continue to the stairs. He stops at the top and looks back, “don’t stay out here too late. Thunderstorm coming.” 

“Is there?” You wonder as you look up at the sky, the moon clear. 

“So I heard,” he shrugs and sets off down the stairs with clomping steps. 

You stare after him as he stalks off, following the path down to the long driveway and to his large truck. The street light illuminates his silhouette as you feel the dampness woven into the wind. You sit back and let out a ‘huh’. You hadn’t noticed it until he said something, then again, you hadn’t been living in that world. 

💕

“Peanut!” Your mom calls to you from down the hall. “Little help!” 

You sigh and finish the sentence. You roll your eyes up and mark your page. You sit up, frustrated as each page seems to be interrupted by one thing or another. You roll of the bed and leave the book on your pillow. 

You open your door and a roiling wall of heat blasts you in the face. You head down the hall and find your mother a humid mess as she works in her apron, her forehead sticky, and a pan in her hands. She drops it with a clang on the stove top and puffs. 

“Ugh, these things are never going to cook,” she tuts and shakes her head. 

“Mom?” You cross your arms and lean in the doorway. Even with central air, her broil has the house as hot as Mordor. “What’s up?” 

“Well, I was hoping you’d make your apple blossoms for dessert but I just got a call from Isaac,” she shakes her head and wipes her sweaty brow. “He forgot his lunch.” 

“Oh,” you purse your lips and nod. 

“So, peanut, you wanna go for a ride? I’d take it myself but I’m in the middle of something,” she smiles and fans herself. “And I’m an absolute mess!” 

“Yeah, I guess I could,” you shrug, trying not to let your disappointment burn through. Considering she isn’t pressuring you to get a summer job like everyone else’s parents, you won’t push it.  

“You’re amazing, pea,” she trills and goes to the fridge. She pulls out a container of yesterday’s leftovers and shoves them into your hands, “and tell your brother not to be late.” 

“Sure,” you utter. 

“Ah, and if you run into Sy, you tell him he’s more than welcome to come by. Should be all sorts of extras tonight.” 

“Right,” you take the container and find a cloth bag to put it in. You head back to your room and swipe up your book and your phone. Just in case. 

You pluck your mom’s keys off the hook by the door as you slip into your sandals, the straps braided leather. You chose them because the little daisies reminded you of a woodland elf. You take your brother’s lunch and grumble as you cross the lawn. 

Your mother’s car is nicer than your dad’s truck. More manageable for you. You don’t need to adjust the seat very much and you can see the road, mostly.  

You take the drive slowly, enjoying the greenery of the neighbourhood. Your brother can suffer his own negligence. He’s an adult and he’s still forgetting his lunch at home. As always, someone else is cleaning up after him. 

You pull up to the shop. You’ve been there once or twice but never inside. As you get out of the car, you hesitate. Should you knock? You approach the heavy metal door and peer around.  

A whistle comes from your left and you turn as Sy appears from around the side of the building. His face is darkened above his beard and around his hairline with the residue of his work. The faint outline of safety glasses leaves a lighter patch in the middle of his face. 

“Hey,” his voice is sonorous as he holds a pair of gauntlets. “Everything okay?” 

“Um,” you blink at him then look back at the car. “Yeah, uh, my brother forgot his lunch.” 

You hold up the bag in your hand. He nods, his face placid. Impossible to read. In his leather apron and with his thick arms bulging under his sweaty tea, he reminds you of a dwarf in a Tolkien tale. You gulp and fidget. 

“Real nice of you to drop that off,” he says as he comes closer, “you’re real sweet like that.” 

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you clasp your wrist and sway nervously. 

“Want me to take it into him? Wouldn’t want ya ruining your clothes with all the fire.” 

“Er, I... if you don’t mind.” 

“If you’re askin’, I don’t mind,” he holds out a large hand, “I’ll get him that.” 

“Right, thanks,” you put it in his hand as he stares down at you, his gaze as hot as the torch he works with. 

“It’s nothing at all,” he assures. 

You smile nervously and back up as he towers over you. You rub your throat and look around again. You feel bad not offering now. 

“Mom said if you wanna come for dinner, we’ll have extra,” you say. 

He hums and puts his gauntlets against the bottom of the container as he holds it in both hands, making it seem tiny. 

“Won’t say no to dinner with a pretty girl,” he intones. 

Your eyes flick up and meet his. No, your mom invited him. He’s just being nice, right? The way he always is, at least when he bothers to speak up. Maybe he's even talking about her.

“I should... go,” you point with your thumb. 

“If you say so,” he agrees, “drive safe.” 

“Will do,” you spin and scurry off. Oof, you are so friggin awkward you could just-- 

You trip and stagger, keeping yourself on your feet. You cringe and turn back, giving a wave to assure him you’re not a total loss, then open the door. You keep your head down, refusing to look at him as you buckle in. 

Maybe you can convince your mom to let you eat in your room. 

[elliotsblunt]

Girl in New York | 3

pairings - art donaldson/reader | challengers au! |

“ _ _ “ = Y/N

next chapter | masterlist | last chapter

sypnosis — Art can’t stand to see another man’s touch on you, so he covers you with his instead in the backseat of his car.

warnings — choking, messy kissing, filthy words, cheating, angst, miscommunication

word count — 2.5k

© elliotsblunt 2024. do not repost, modify or translate.

Your arms were interlinked with your cousin’s. He was spotting some guys he could potentially make bad decisions with, and you were anxious to see—

“Hi, guys!” A voice screeched.

You and Patrick raise your brows, spinning around to find Art and his girlfriend in hand. Your heart had been racing like you smoked ten cigarettes in one sitting. His eyes instantly met yours, but you tore yours away, settling on the bimbo beside him. “I’m Tiffany. We’ve met before.”

You swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Hey.”

Art had been burning holes into you, all behind his girlfriend’s back. Pat and him threw their arms around each other as Tiffany eyed you down, the four of you going up the steps.

As soon as you reached the top, deafening club music blared in your ears. Flashes of lights in all directions set off as crowds of half naked people danced amongst one another. The air was thick and your breathing became uneven. Tiffany giggled as if she’d never been in a club before, making you almost roll your eyes. “You dance, Tiffany?”

“I did balet when I was nine.” She admitted, making you raise your brows. Pat laughed before whispering in your ear, “Behave.”

You chuckled, raising a brow at her. “Let’s go dance. Leave these losers to do what they want.”

“Ouch,” Pat once again threw his arm around Art’s shoulder. His blonde curls weren’t styled, falling over his eyes. It made him look more charming. You hated the affect he had on you. You realized he still hadn’t said anything to you, but only looked at you with narrowed eyes and an irritated expression.

Tiffany sent you a weirded out look, “I’m good. I don’t think provocative dancing is appropriate in front of other men when I have one.”

You blinked at her, sending a look to Pat before nodding. “You’re so right. Good thing I don’t have one,” you pulled off your green sweater, revealing a black lace crop top. It showed off your waist, feeling eyes from all sides burn into you. “—now if you’ll excuse me.”

Making your way to the dance floor, you grabbed your hair and shook your hips to the music. Arching your back, to make your waist look thinner, your figure began to tune with the music like an instrument. Those five shots of vodka you took on the way to the club were hitting you right about now.

Dopamine soared through your blood. You had been so stressed this week with school work and contemplating how you felt about Art.

Your eyes fluttered shut, goosebumps littering your skin.

A pair of hands slither around your waist. It causes you to jolt, bursting them open again before pushing them off. “C’mon beautiful. I don’t bite,” a middle aged man said in a faux sweet tone. Sickenly sweet. You internally cringed as he reached for you again, the wrinkles in his face deepening as you struggle against him.

He grabs your wrists, “Come over here.”

His tone was authoritative and sharp. You resisted, grunting out, and felt someone shove his figure off yours. Art delivered a kick to the dude’s abdomen before grabbing his collar and punching him right in the jaw. His blonde strands were frazzled and messy. He ground out his jaw as the man’s face scrunched.

“Fuck off, creep.”

Taking in deep breaths, your eyes caught the blood on his knuckles. Tiffany screamed and hugged Patrick, whose face twisted together at the action. Art wiped his nose before storming off out the club, his girlfriend following him out and calling his name.

Your lips shook for a moment—and then you went after him.

By the time you reached the bottom of the steps, it was only Art. His back was leaning against the wall, cigarette hanging off his lips, his white button up now half unbuttoned. His half lidded eyes set on you as you plucked one of your own between your lips.

“Got a light?”

He didn’t respond, nor make a sound, digging into his jeans and pulling out a red one. But his eyes didn’t part from yours. They became smoky as he lit your cig. The orange slowly burnt the tobacco as it burned the back of your throat.

The cold wind contrasted against the heat of the cig. “Thanks.”

It was a beautiful night. So beautiful—for the moment, you forgot about getting groped. Everything shined in your slightly drunken mind. Cara quickly passed by as randoms walked past the both of you on the sidewalk. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you didn’t notice the icy pair of eyes staring at you.

You wondered why he saved you. It was clear before that he didn’t care, but now—you were confused.

“I waited two hours for you on Thursday.”

You knit your brows at his sudden words, meeting his gaze. He was already staring at you.

“What?”

The tip of his nose was pink from the cold, eyes squinting into a glare. “You didn’t show up for our lesson. I waited two hours for you, but when you didn’t show—I left.”

Confusion swirled in your brain.

“I thought your girlfriend told you?”

He frowned, hitting his cigarette. “Told me that you were going to ditch me?”

You rolled your eyes. Jesus—this guy was a smart ass. “No. She told me she would let you know that my dad won’t allow me to come on Wednesdays. I have school on those days,” his brows knit even deeper, blinking quickly at your information.

You flicked the end of the cig, watching ash fall to the ground. “You then texted me that you couldn’t make another time for our lessons and wished me well in life.”

“That literally doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does. Don’t act like you feel bad now. I always knew you were going to drop me eventually,” you mutter, taking a final hit. You let it fall from your fingertips, stepping on it with your heel, and shrugged your shoulders. “We should’ve stopped them anyways. But I must say, you were very harsh—“

“_ _, I don’t know what messages you’re talking about.”

Your eyes trailed off the ground and back onto his. “Besides….I wanted to apologize about what I said last time. Y’know—about us not being friends.”

Your breath hitched, pulling out another cigarette. “Another one?” He questioned, but lit it regardless for you. You hummed.

The cigarette wouldn’t light. “Shit,” you curse beneath your breath, backing into an alleyway with him. There was less wind back here. A spark finally emitted from the gas. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

He looked around the alley, scratching the back of his neck. “She left. Said this place was too sketchy for her,” he muttered, putting out his cigarette as well. “She was pretty mad that I punched that dude. She like—hates violence.”

“I see.”

Drips sounded from random places. Footsteps from around the corner were heard nearby.

You leaned against the wall, not wearing a coat, so your hard nipples began to poke through your thin shirt. Puffing out your chest a bit, earning some confidence with the alcohol, you decide it’s time to prove his girl a lesson. His eyes landed on your breasts, bottom lip instantly getting caught between his teeth.

His hair was slightly damp the moisture in the club. His hooded eyes filled with desire. It was a bit breathtaking how good he looked. It began to ache how turned on you were. You wanted to tug on those strands so badly.

“Art,” you spoke softly, looking over at him. As usual, his eyes were already trained on yours. Standing on your feet, you stood before him, face inches apart from his. You could smell his faint cologne and the scent of mint on his lips. “I like spending time with you. Is that weird?”

His jaw clenched. “Back up, _ _.”

Voice calm and tone, you decided to push his buttons a little. You always teased him. But he sounded particularly stern.

A smirk pulled onto your glossed lips, “Make me.”

“I said back up,” he sneered, growing close to you. You tripped and fell on the floor. You gasped as your palms land on the ground, looking up at him with rounded eyes. His hair covered his eyes like a madman, something flipping in them, and then he was on the ground with you. Dropping to his knees, grabbing your face, and smashing your lips onto his. Like you were his only source of food and he was a starved predator.

It was like craving a sweet your mother wouldn’t let you have. The taste melting on your tongue was unforgettable. In this case, it was his lips. Soft and plush, moving against yours in a rhythm that was addicting. His hands scrambled to cup your breasts, leading you to push your chest against them. His hands grabbed your waist, pulled you off the ground, and slammed you against the brick wall.

His long, skilled fingers tore your top down in half. Your eyes widened, “My sh—“

“Shut the fuck up,” he spat, grabbing your jaw and kissing you once again. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, fingers desperately running through his hair as his large hands tightened their grip on your flesh. He was so rough with you—aggressively reaching back up to your tits, beneath the fabric of your top, and squeezing your entire breast with his one palm.

It felt like a pleasurable, warm electric current shocked you in your core every time he stroked the sensitive flesh. The situation was so morally wrong, and people would most likely call you two horrible people, but you didn’t care. You had a craving…

…and you needed to satiate it.

“I can’t fucking concentrate with you that close to me—“ he grunted against your lips, his hands grabbing your bare tits and grinding his hips against yours. His jeans deliciously rubbed against your pussy, which was covered in a thin pair of panties. It was a total mess.

“Get the fuck off me,” he sneered, pushing you off him. His lips were slightly swollen, from just a few seconds of kissing. Both of you breathed heavily as you felt something catch in your throat. His eyes narrowed at you, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?”

You blinked, still putting together what just happened. He kissed you. Art kissed you.

“You kissed me. This isn’t my fault.”

“I hate how you make me feel. You’re like a parasite for fucks sake—“

Rolling your eyes, you held together the torn ends of your shit. “I can’t do this shit anymore. Later.”

This dude couldn’t make up his mind. And quite frankly—your patience had struck thin.

Without a second glance, and feeling like you just got cockblocked, your heels clicked as you left the alleyway. It had just so happened to begin raining, much to your luck. Perhaps there was a bus stop or something nearby.

The winter night was unforgivable. You shook in the piercing cold, completely drenched and freezing. No one was out right now. All cars had most likely pulled over due to the storm. Lightning caused you to release a shriek, the purple electricity momentarily sizzling in the cloudy night sky.

After you crossed a few crosswalks, a beige Honda pulls up beside you with hazards. You grew a bit suspicious, but when you spotted it was a familiar blonde, you didn’t know whether to keep walking or flip him off. The window rolls down as Art squints his eyes through the rain, “Get in! You’ll get sick or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes, ignored him, and kept on walking down the concrete. Art groaned before putting honking his horn. Your eyes widened, since this neighborhood was particularly scary, and shushed him. “Stop that. It’s late—!”

“Get in the car,” he repeated, and you sent him a glare. He smile was boyish. “Or I’ll continue to honk.”

Oh fuck you, Art Donaldson.

Silently you got into his car, mentally cursing him out. You slammed the car door shut and instantly got hit with the smell of clean leather. You didn’t know they made Hondas with leather. Huh.

There was a keychain of a tennis racket that hung from his mirror. It jingled as he put the car in drive and shutting off his hazards. You swallowed thickly, his arm bulging as he steered the wheel with a locked jaw. “Where are we—“

“Shut up.”

Your eyes bulged. Heat blossomed in your cheeks as anger boiled within your blood. “Excuse me,” you say up in your seat, but the side of your head hit the window as he made a sharp turn on purpose. A brief pain ached your temple, and you shot him a glare. “Stop this fucking car, Art. I’m not playing with you right now.”

“I’m already here,” the car parked randomly, causing the car to break erratically. His eyes flew to yours as his hands shifted the gear into park. “I can’t fucking do this anymore, _ _. It’s exhausting.”

You swallow deeply. “I have to go.”

“You should…but now you’re in here with me,” his tone was low. Your eyes stared at the windshield, making out silhouettes of trees in the distance. Raindrops rolled down the thick glass as it pattered against the car. “It’s impossible to be a gentleman around you, _ _.”

His words sunk into you. Your mouth went dry, noticing how vulnerable and longing he looked. His hair was damp from the rain, sticking to the skin of his forehead—baby blue eyes hooded and high on lust. They flickered to your lips, “Your taste is addicting. And I need more….”

You leapt off your seat this time to grab his face and connect your lips once again. He inhaled sharply, hands landing on your hips. You crawled into his lap, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. A moan escaped you, vibrating against him, causing him to then suck on the same area.

Everywhere was steaming hot.

He desperately took off the remaining bit of your shirt you were still holding together. Your tits were revealed to him, and his lips desperately began to suck on one. Tongue swirling around the bud made your eyes squeeze shut, grinding your soaked pussy against his knee. His breath hitched as you begin to palm him through the fabric of his pants, his lips moving to press kisses against your neck.

“Fucking dreamed about this,” he groaned, watching you cry out as his teeth pierce the flesh of your nipple. Something flashed in his eyes at the sound—grabbing your throat with his hand and looking you dead in the eyes.

“Get in the fucking backseat now.”

[whxtedreams]

Uncertain, Unknown

a joel miller x reader oneshot

Summary: You were ready for the end, but a stranger wasn't.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tags: near-death experience, drowning, acceptance of death, (no actual deaths) joel saves you, idk what this is- just felt like writing this. no description of reader.

Main masterlist

You have held a deep-set fear of large bodies of water, their vast depths an abyss of the unknown that suffocates your very being as it reaches out to embrace you in its cold, unforgiving embrace. Its watery tendrils seem to caress the edges of your consciousness, seeking to pull you in and feed on your fears, trapping you within its endless expanse.

As you plunge deeper into the lake, an unexpected tranquility washes over you. The cold and forbidding waters no longer seem menacing; instead, they wrap around you like a warm embrace, flooding you with a sense of familiarity and comfort. In this moment, the lake transforms from a source of fear into a soothing reminder of what home used to be – a safe haven filled with love and affection. You sink effortlessly, held gently in the arms of the water, feeling a deep sense of security and contentment.

As you fall into the depths of the water, time seems to elongate, stretching out into eternity. Yet, deep down, you know that it has only been a mere minute since you hit the surface. You succumb to the pull of gravity, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the aquatic embrace. There is no struggle, no fight for survival. Instead, you surrender fully to the abyss, each second passing like an hour, as your body slowly surrenders to the warm, welcoming grasp of the water.

You had been running with all your might, your legs and chest on fire with exhaustion and fear pumping through your veins. In a moment of panicked desperation, you turned your head to check if your pursuers were behind you. Alas, a concealed log laid in ambush, and your foot caught upon it, sending you crashing to the ground. Panic flooded your being as your body rolled and tumbled uncontrollably, the harsh earth tearing at your skin ruthlessly. Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the torment ended in a splash as you plunged into the cold, dark depths below.

You are going to die, and you don’t fight it.

You’re so tired.

The lake seems to come alive, its depths reaching out and grasping at your body, tearing at your skin and constricting your chest with an implacable grip. The lake's sinister intentions become palpable as it seeks to consume you, to claim your essence for itself. Weary and exhausted to the core, you surrender to the lake's malevolent embrace, allowing yourself to be consumed by its fearsome hunger.

As your body instinctively craves air, the lake relentlessly smothers it, its relentless grasp stifling your every breath. Your lungs burn with desperation, and each attempt to inhale only draws in more suffocating water. The lake's relentless hands envelop your face, leaving you with no escape as it ruthlessly suppresses your very breath, depriving your body of the oxygen it so desperately needs.

As you sink deeper into the lake's abyss, a surprising sense of gratitude washes over you. Despite the circumstances leading up to this, you are thankful that this is how your life will end – not torn apart by the infected or cut down by the malevolent force that shadows the earth. As the water envelopes you completely, you find solace in the thought that this peaceful end is preferable to the horrors that awaited you on the surface.

Your mind drifts back to the events of the morning - a time when everything seemed so normal, so mundane. How innocently unsuspecting you were about the cruel fate that awaited you. Now, as you reflect, you can't help but feel a profound melancholy - you realize that that is the last time you will wake up in this world to witness the beauty of a sunrise.

The memory of the infected still pierces your mind like a sharp sword. The guttural growls, the chilling shrieks, and the rustling of leaves as they closed in on you - it all replays like an awful nightmare. Despite your abilities, you knew that taking on four infected at once was a certain death sentence. So, with sheer terror coursing through your veins, you did the only thing you could - you ran. And running is something you knew how to do brilliantly. But even the most masterful escape was not enough to save you from your impending fate.

Above the murky depths of the lake, a series of thunderous booms reverberate through the water, causing a surge of pressure that pressed against your body. You feel a mixture of hope and trepidation wash over you as you ponder whether drowning would claim you before the unknown entity reaches you. Suddenly, something hard and solid wraps around your wrist, its grip unrelenting. The shock of the contrast between the soothing water and the harshness of this newfound grasp causes you to gasp in surprise. As the solid form forcefully pulls you upwards, encircling your middle, you struggle fiercely, attempting to free yourself from its tenacious hold.

As the mysterious entity pulls relentlessly, you feel the shift in the water's demeanor - the soothing embrace transforming into a bitter, furious grip, angry at the prospect of losing its new victim. The water screams loudly in your ears, the intense pressure leaving you with a throbbing headache. The temperature plunges to near freezing, and the realization of the water's true nature sends waves of panic coursing through your body, making it increasingly difficult to stay calm and collected.

As your head breaks the surface of the water, you desperately gasp for air, yet you find yourself hacking and choking on the water still trapped within your lungs. The shock of exposure to the outside air mixed with the remnants of ingested water leaves you struggling to catch your breath, your body convulsing in protest.

The strong arms that had pulled you from the depths adjust themselves around you, seeking to hold onto the lingering vestiges of your life as they guide you back to the safety of the shoreline. As your back makes contact with the muddy ground, urgent hands swiftly push away the strands of hair from your face, gently turning you onto your side. With each subsequent cough, more and more murky lake water spills from your mouth, mixing with the damp earth that cradles your weary body.

"There you go, you're alright," The reassuring voice washes over you like a calm tide, its soothing tone wrapping around your nerves like a protective blanket. The hand rubs your back firmly, providing a solid and comforting presence as you struggle to expel the water from your lungs.

Your clothes cling to your skin, their cold and soggy embrace causing you to shiver violently. Yet as the hand gently rubs your back, you become acutely aware of the stark contrast between its warmth and the bone-chilling cold of the lake water. The sudden realization hits you - the water was never truly warm; it was merely a cruel trick, a twisted ploy to lure you into its sinister grasp.

As you struggle to turn onto your back, your head heavy and fatigue setting in, you muster the strength to look up at your savior. He sits beside you, panting heavily, his own chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Despite the frigid waters that cling to his clothes and the wet strands of hair that fall onto his face, his gaze remains focused solely on you, unwavering and intense. The hand that once firmly rubbed your back now lays beside you.

As your breathing steadily slows and your consciousness begins to fade, your thoughts turn to the one who has saved you. In that moment, he appears like an angel to you with an aura of divine intervention surrounding him. Whether he is a fallen angel or a heavenly being sent to rescue you, you care not, for the overwhelming sense of gratitude and relief washes over you, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

You awaken to the unfamiliar feeling of harsh concrete beneath you, replacing the cold and damp mud that cradled you when you drifted off to sleep. The windows are eerily boarded up, allowing only a limited amount of light to trickle in and leaving you completely disoriented as you try to determine whether the sunlight outside indicates a sunrise or a sunset. Confusion mixes with a lingering sense of disorientation as you struggle to piece together how much time has passed while you were unconscious.

You muster the strength to push aside a hefty jacket that rests on your body, sitting up slowly and tentatively. It's not your jacket, that much is certain. The realization hits you like a wave - it must belong to the one who rescued you. As you recall the events leading up to this moment, you remember that he wasn't wearing a jacket when he pulled you out of the water. In this cold and unfamiliar environment, the jacket offers some comfort and warmth, a small lifeline to cling onto.

The dim flicker of light filtering through the boarded-up windows provides enough illumination to make out the contents of the small storage room you find yourself in. The shelves, once perhaps stocked with supplies, are now bare and covered in a thick layer of dust that speaks to years of disuse. Broken pieces of wood and metal lay scattered about on the ground, undisturbed and forgotten by time. The thick, stale air hangs in the room like a heavy pall, an ominous stillness that weighs heavily on your senses.

The quiet of the room is disrupted by a sharp huff followed by the heavy and purposeful thud of approaching footsteps. They come to a standstill just outside the closed door, and for a brief moment, there is dead silence. Suddenly, three gentle yet firm raps echo through the room, jolting you from your contemplations.

His voice breaks the silence, his words carrying a mix of both hope and concern. “You awake in there?” he calls out, his tone low and steady. After a brief pause, the door slowly creaks open, its hinges protesting the movement. His eyes sweep the room until they finally land on you, sitting in the exact spot where he left you. Relief washes over his features, his shoulders relaxing as a faint smile quirks up the corners of his mouth.

As the door swings open fully, the bright afternoon sunlight floods the room, illuminating every corner and casting harsh shadows upon the walls. Caught off guard by the sudden brightness, you instinctively raise your hands to shield your eyes, squinting as you attempt to adjust to the dazzling light.

He leans against the arch of the door nonchalantly, his arm braced against the frame in a lazy yet protective manner. He casts a watchful gaze onto you, studying you carefully as you attempt to catch a glimpse of your surroundings beyond him. His tall stature and strong build serve as an imposing yet comforting presence, casting a shadow over your seated form that shields you from the intense light streaming in from outside.

His voice breaks the silence once more, a mixture of relief and concern tinting his words. “That was some mighty cold water you found yourself in,” he says, the lingering worry evident in his tone. “Thought we were both gonna freeze” he adds, his sigh reverberating through the room. He pushes off from the arch, rising to his full height and placing himself before you, his shoulders broad and firm.

He crouches down before you, his eyes searching your face intently. As your silence lingers, he asks, “You got a name? Or am I going to have to make one up if you won't talk?” The question hangs in the air, filled with curiosity and a hint of a challenge. His gaze remains steady, patiently awaiting your response, wondering if you will finally break your silence.

You hesitate for a moment, the syllables of your name feeling unfamiliar as they roll off your tongue, having gone unspoken for so long. Finally, in a soft, tentative voice, you respond. The words are barely spoken, yet they hang in the air, carrying with them a hint of vulnerability as you offer this small piece of yourself to this stranger who has saved you.

He nods in acknowledgment, a small gesture of introduction. “Joel.” The name rolls off his tongue with a certain ease, his voice carrying both strength and warmth in equal measure. As he straightens up, his knees crack audible protest, yet he gives no sign of discomfort, perhaps used to the sensation of pain. He stands before you, a tall and steadfast presence, solid and reliable like a pillar amidst the chaos of uncertainty.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” He begins as he leans over you to retrieve his jacket. “Looks like you’ve got two options. Either stay here or I can smuggle you into Boston QZ. But I gotta move, wasted a lot of time dragging you out of that lake.”

He stands with his arms crossed over his chest, the muscles rippling under his shirtsleeves. It's a relaxed yet assertive pose, one that exudes a sense of authority and control. As he waits for your response, his eyes never leave your face, watching you intently, silently urging you to speak with a slight lift of an eyebrow.

You grapple with the decision, torn between the logical course of action and an inexplicable pull deep within you. Something within you whispers fiercely, urging you to say yes, to join this stranger named Joel. Despite the risks and uncertainties that lie ahead, the force of this invisible pull is simply too strong to resist. A flicker of something wild and untamed dances in your eyes as the answer slips past your lips.

As Joel reaches down and takes your hand firmly in his, an almost gentle strength radiates through his grip. He lifts you easily onto your feet, the warmth and solidity of his touch providing a stark contrast to the cold memories of the lake. The lake had wrapped around you like a warm embrace, flooding you with a sense of familiarity and comfort. But in this moment, the lake cannot compare to how safe Joel makes you feel in his presence. 

Following closely behind him, you reflect on the events that have transpired since your encounter with Joel - how this stranger has not only rescued you from freezing waters but also taking you to the safety of a QZ. A sense of gratitude mixes with uncertainty in your thoughts, unsure of what the future holds, but trusting in Joel nonetheless.

Your thoughts turn to the false sense of safety the lake had offered you as you sank to your death, how easily it had lured you into its depths. Now, as you follow Joel out of the abandoned gas station and into the uncertain unknown, you make a silent vow to yourself. Regardless of what lies ahead, you will follow Joel for now. With each step, you cling to the hope that he will lead you toward sanctuary, and away from the shadows that seem to lurk everywhere around you.

Your mind is filled with thoughts of caution and doubt, wondering if Joel is simply leading you into a false sense of hope and security. Trust is not given lightly in this new world, and yet, you find yourself following him nonetheless, desperate for a lifeline in this sea of uncertainty. As you try to quell the unease in your heart, you silently hope that Joel's intentions are sincere, and that he will provide the protection and guidance that you so desperately need.

notes

i’m back from the dead. haven’t sat down and written anything for a while, stardew valley took over my life for a little bit there and then my wifi broke.

don’t really know what this is, but i felt like writing it. just a moment, nothing too long or short. no smut or fluff really, just an interaction and the start of a new life.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

i bled for free, your wretched victory (1)

a/n: timeline? who's she, don't know her. i just wanted to get this idea out before i focused on my requests and WIPs lol, hopefully y'all like it! i might be beefing with marvel rn but my brain won't stop giving me ideas. also i apologize for how bad this is but it is something i want to post <3 word count: 1.3k warning(s): blood; injuries; i can't not put reader through hell sorry; really slow paced, sorry i want this to be a slowburn series prompt: when meeting a friend for coffee doesn't go to plan, you realize you've been caught up in a scheme much larger than you could ever have thought

Leaning against the wall, you listened to the footsteps behind you. Blood dripped in between your fingers as you clutched the wound at your side. The pain kept you focused, aware of your surroundings. You were tense as the footsteps passed you, the heavy falls of your attackers boots echoing through the hall. Sliding down the wall, you allowed yourself to breathe. Each breath sent shooting pain through your ribs, making you stifle your gasps with your fist. You couldn’t remember how you got here, how you went from the crowded streets of NYC to the cold sterile halls of this facility. All you remember was waiting for your friend Yelena, who you had met while serving drinks at a Christmas party, in a small cozy cafe. She wasn’t late, you were just early. You didn’t know if she ever showed up as your memory had gone blank. The gap filled with nothing opened in your memory to when you had woken up, surrounded by tubes, plastic and metal. 

“She couldn’t have gotten far, keep looking.” A male voice echoed down the hall, sending shivers down your spine and freezing you in your spot. His voice haunted your mind, fear lacing through your thoughts. You couldn’t remember why but this man was dangerous. Waiting until you couldn’t hear any words, footsteps, or even breaths, you stood up again, staggering slightly from the pain. Something told you to follow the path to your right, running was a struggle, every part of you fighting against the action. You left bloody footprints for your captors to follow but you wouldn’t let yourself think about that. A door was in front of you. A door busted wide open, the metal bent and contorted, slash marks surrounding the frame. You could’ve cried with relief. But before you could take a step outside, you felt something graze your thigh then searing pain followed. Some words were called out, a name that brought back the fear. You could feel people surrounding you from behind, slowly advancing like one would a wounded animal. 

“Now, let’s not be dramatic-” That voice. He was behind you. A burning smell filled your nostrils as you spun around, screaming and throwing your arms in front of you. The man and his men flew backwards, hitting the walls with sickening cracks. Turning back towards the door, you ran out, ignoring the feeling of rocks and broken branches piercing your feet. You clung to your side, your eyesight blurring at the edges as your blood stained your hand. It felt like centuries had passed before you saw a road, the happiness overlooking the fact that armored cars blocked it off. Panic clawed at your throat. How far did his reach go? How far would you have to run before you could escape this nightmare? You thought about staying where you were, letting your body become one with the woods but something in you pulled you to a part of the forest where you couldn’t see the cars or the militarized camp. You couldn’t see anything special, making you wonder if the blood loss was finally making you go crazy. But then you saw the static. Looking up, your eyes followed the glitches towards the sky. 

“Oh, I’m definitely going crazy.” You muttered to yourself, turning away from the wall of static, removing your hand from your side so you could hold your head in both hands, ignoring how you were getting blood on your face and in your hair. You sat on the ground in a slump, shaking your head as you continued to ignore your pain. 

“Hey! What are you doing? Get out of the way! Are you okay?” A loud shout caused you to jolt backwards, your back hitting the wall of static. Before you were pulled in, you saw a woman with glasses running toward you and a FBI agent following her, their eyes full of horror. 

—

Every part of your body cried out in pain, the feeling of being torn apart and being put back together adding to the disorientation. When it stopped, you found yourself in the middle of a road. Collapsing on your knees, you started to cry, no longer able to ignore the pain. It took a minute to realize the oddness of where you were. There was no color. Everything was black and white, like the reruns of shows you used to watch with your grandparents. But when you looked at your hands, you saw tendrils of color under your skin, weaving between your veins. Orange, pink, purple, glowed until it settled into the monochrome you found yourself in. A sense of danger lingered around you, furthering your tears. 

“What the hell is happening to me?” You cried out between sobs, struggling to once more stand. Looking around, it hit you that you had nowhere to go. You had no idea where you were, no idea how long it had been since your last clear memory, you had no idea if you were even in the same state. The air around you was quiet, eerily so. You convinced yourself to start walking, heading towards the first house you saw. It looked old, it’s architecture one that you normally would admire, but now it just added to the uneasy feeling in your stomach. You headed up towards the door, your head pounding, eyes blurry with pain as you felt like your body was finally about to give out. Before you could pass out, you raised your hand to the door and knocked as loud and hard as you could. The door opened surprisingly fast, causing you to stumble backwards a bit. The woman in front of you had a look on her face you couldn’t describe, the only thought in your mind being your pain. 

“Please,” you stuttered out, gasps of breath interrupting your words, “please help me, I don’t know what’s-” 

Before you could finish what you were saying, your mind gave into the pain. Everything went dark as you collapsed. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was a cloud of purple wrapping around you. 

—

Agatha felt the disturbance in the air before she heard the knocks on her door. She made her way up from her lair in the basement, her magic curling around her hands. It couldn’t be Wanda, she told herself, this felt like something else. Her magic sang as it felt power but quickly the excitement died down as she realized this wasn’t a magical power. This was something else, something she didn’t know. The loud knocking at her door shook her out of her confusion, but adding more to it. Surely Wanda couldn’t be making a storyline in her sleep, she couldn’t be that aware just yet. Agatha opened the door quickly, her eyes widening as she took in the image in front of her. A young woman stood barely holding herself together, blood staining her skin and matting her hair. She begged Agatha before falling to the ground, Agatha’s magic just barely catching her. Agatha brought the girl into the house, snapping her fingers bringing the two of them to the basement. Wanda wouldn’t be able to sense the disturbance here. Agatha watched as color came back to the girl's skin, gasping as tendrils of orange and pink mixed with her magic, working together to mend the injuries that riddled her skin. She knelt on the ground, pulling the young woman closer to her, watching as the wounds closed and healed. Agatha brushed her hand on the girl's face, magicking away the blood and tear tracks. A low humming noise filled the air, causing the witch to startle as she watched the runes protecting her basement thrum. They could sense the power but couldn’t contain it. Agatha’s eyes returned to the girl in her lap, running her hands through the tangled hair, an attempt to calm whatever storm she had brought into her home. 

“Who, or what, are you?” Agatha whispered, her mind racing for any explanation the Darkhold could give her. The book would’ve laughed in her face if it could, answerless as Agatha realized Westview was in more danger than she thought.

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Just a little bit where Ransom takes care of you after sex

Pairing -> Boyfriend!Ransom Drysdale x Girlfriend!Reader

Words -> 1006

Warnings -> 18+, Minors DNI, smut, unprotected p in v, cream pie, cockwarming, breeding kink, kind of fingering, aftercare, praises

Request -> my head is screaming Ransom Drysdale + aftercare 🥹 ❤️❤️❤️ @rogersbarber

A/N -> Thank you for the request. Drabble turned into a small oneshot but let’s just act like it’s a Drabble, hehe. Hope you like it.

Masterlist | Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Ransom lets himself fall down on top of you; he doesn’t mind that both of your bodies are sweaty, that his cock is still buried inside of your pussy or that his cum is slowly flowing out of your cunt. He just wants to be as close as possible to you, wanting to hear and feel your heartbeat while both of you calm down from your highs.

So he places his head on your chest, smirking slightly while he listens to your steady but fast heartbeat. His cock is softening inside your pussy but it’s not uncomfortable, not for you or for him.

You love the feeling of him inside of you, especially after rough sex. Ransom stays so close to you after a session, making sure to help you ground yourself while he just lays on top of you. His hair tickles your soft skin slightly, and you slide one of your hands through his hair, playing with a few of his strands.

There is nothing better than having him so close to you, his cock inside of you, his body on top of you, and his heavy breaths matching yours. His cheeks are slightly red, and you can feel his warm breath against your skin.

“You did so well for me, sweetheart. Taking my cock like the good girl you are for me, huh?” He praises you, loving the way your lips curl up and turn into the sweetest and shyest smile he has ever seen. For Ransom, it’s adorable to see that smile because he knows he is the only one who is allowed to see it.

“You weren't bad either,” you say teasingly and earn a soft roll of his hips against yours, causing his cock to hit your sweet spot once again. You moan, your eyes rolling back, and your breath hitches. “Fuck— You were perfect! Your cock is feeling so good inside my pussy.”

He turns his head, looking at you with a wide grin. Then he leans closer and captures your lips with his — or at least you think he is going to do it, but Ransom wouldn’t be Ransom wouldn’t he turn his head away and lick a strap along your neck.

You’re overstimulated, but his actions turn you on again, and he knows. Ransom knows your body almost better than you do, especially when it has to do with sexual activities. He rolls his hips a few more times, causing more moans and soft whines to escape from your lips.

“You were screaming my name, sweetheart. Begging me to stuff you full with my cock to pump you full with my seeds,” he says, this time he leans closer and captures your lips with his. His plump lips moved softly against yours, causing yours to melt into the kiss. His hands grasp your hips, and he pushes himself up slightly.

After a moment, you both need to pull away, inhaling deeply. But he almost takes your breath away when you look into his eyes — his beautiful blue eyes show nothing but pure love, adoration, and sweetness. His lips turn into a sweet smile, and he is staring into your eyes. “You’re so beautiful. Could look at you all the time and would never get enough of you. I love you, sweetheart.”

Those three words mean so much to you; he got used to saying them to you since he really felt them, but when you first dated, Ransom never got those three words over his lips. He hasn’t had much love from his family, and he wasn’t used to so much love and appreciation, so he needed to learn about it first. You never minded, but hearing him say that now — all the time because he loves it so much — makes you more than happy.

“I love you too, Ran,” you say, pulling him by his neck closer to kiss him once again. His lips feel so perfectly fine against yours, his fingers still digging into the skin of your hips, and you feel goosebumps erupting all over your body. Ransom pulls away and grins, pulling his cock slowly out of you.

“I’m really in the mood to get some biscuits now; how about you?” He asks, sitting up and looking at your pussy where his cum is slowly flowing out of you. “Too bad you have to be stuck in her to fill her pretty belly with my babies,” he says to his cum, like it’s the most natural thing to do. You chuckle, making him look at you, and he furrows his eyebrows. "What’s so funny, sweetheart?”

“You’re talking to your cum like it can understand you.” He rolls his eyes, using two of his fingers to bring them to your entrance, and pushes them into you, causing his cum to be pushed into your pussy too. A high-pitched moan leaves your lips, and you hiss when his fingers curl inside of you.

Ransom laughs softly, then pulls his fingers out of you and kisses your thighs up to your belly. He then moves a bit before he sits up completely to get his biscuit. He pokes a finger into your belly. “You will carry my babies, won’t you?”

You nod slightly, causing his eyes to brighten before he gets up to finally look for his favorite biscuits. You sit up, hissing when your sensitive cunt rubs along the sheet.

“Sweetheart, do you need something?” Ransom asks, looking worried at you, when he comes back with the package in one of his hands and a biscuit in the other. He walks closer to the bed, holding the package in front of you to take a biscuit, but you grasp the one in his hand.

You immediately eat it and smirk at him, causing him to chuckle and shake his head. He lets himself fall down on the bed, and you sit with your back against his chest, sighing softly while he turns on the television and your favorite movie. Then he hands you another biscuit.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf

[evilminji]

As I have recently discussed, with the ESTEEMED Quirk Scholar @mayfay !

Suprise Quirk Accident Babies! Gotta love um!

They're the, ironically enough, love child of "suprise child acquisition" and "suddenly pregnant" troupes! But SPEEDRUN! Because THAT IS A TODDLER/BABY! Right here. Right now!

Just?

POOF!

✨️~BABY~✨️

And now YOU! Yes, YOU! Get to deal with it. All those vague "do I want to be a parent someday? Would it be SAFE? I am READY?" Questions AND MORE! Suddenly NOT SO VAGUE.

Suddenly VERY RELAVENT. Immediate. People are asking you questions you are GOING to need to answer. And?

You are not the only parent.

You might be JUST out of fucking high-school. Staring down a top lister, high 20, maybe TOP TEN, Hero. Who is society gonna choose here? Your barely adult ass... or them? You might never see your kid again if they decide to take them. Decide to be an asshole.

They have enemies, too.

Can... can you HANDLE those enemies? To protect your kid?

It's been less then fifteen minutes. Fight has barely ended and your sitting under a shock blanket. Decisions are going to have to be made. And all you can think is the sound of your own panicked screaming. Static white noise. The reporters and shady Goverment officials already circling like sharks. Gotta make a decision. Gotta make a decision. Gotta....

It is? The BEST.

The more unlikely the combos the better! My asexual ass is thriving! Fuck yeah! Free baby, no sex!!! You can have platonic child rearing shenanigans! Interesting Self Insert Setups! New OCs! Character dramas! Or romance, if your into that sorta thing!

But you know what I think would be funny as hell?

The continued bloodline curse of AfO being so Platonicly Yandere at his own kin that they go Rabidly Feral Wet Cat and try to claw his throat out, bare minimum! Because obviously HE isn't the problem here! No, no, it's everyone ELSE that caused the issues last time! He doesn't have to learn from past mistakes! He's perfect! (Spoken by the world's most delusional man)

He ALSO has lost track of how many minor quirks he has shoved in metaphorical pockets at the moment. As he is, as always, a kleptomaniac. The way the react to each other? Cascade and shift? React to OTHER outside quirks?

Ha! He's never fucking studied that. Why would he study that!? He has power to steal.

So... set the scene~

Toshinori v. Afo: Kamino Ward.

Make the changes you please, add or subtract Heros, but the BIG TWO are there. They clash. Like Titans. Like GODS. AfO getting frisky with his quirk use, throwing everything at the wall. But?

Oh. This time. THIS TIME, you bastard! Toshinori is NOT ALONE!

The power of community, of an ARMY, is not to be underestimated. They make be struggling. Have broken bones and worse. But they know he just... just needs ONE shot! They... they can give him one shot.

Even if it's the last thing they ever do.

Because? They are god damned HEROES.

AfO feels his legs rip out from under him, just as he's about to dodge. It's going to be a killshot. He may... potentially... THEORETICALLY... conceivably... possibly... panic... just a bit. MAYBE. A microscopic amount.

He lashes out.

With everything.

And he DOES mean everything. Yes, including that "grow flowers" and the "summon apples towards you"Quirk, for all the good THOSE would have done.

Something? Happens.

The blast hits the Oaf infront of him... and? Resonates. Like the striking of a great clear bell. It RINGS. Deafening. Without noise. The damn brat...rewinds? No. He's not younger. He RESETS! OH YOU MOTHER FU-!

Something sliding off him. Like dust. From the reset. Drifting towards other dust.

Swirling. Some merging, like planets forming. Most not enough. Turning grey and falling to the ground. But... but he can SEE it. A whisp of white hair gets in the way. HIS hair. Ha. Ha ha hA HA HA HA HA!!! Reset! NOT JUST YOU, ALL MIGHT!

The heroes are getting up. It doesn't matter. He'll just put them BACK on the ground.

INTO it this time.

But then?

The dust from him, all might, so many others. Solidifies, compresses, the pops like a firework. Dumping a very started black hair, blue eyed, toddler on the ground.

AfO connects the dots first. He has AfO hair texture. Quirk weirdness just happened and their is ALWAYS a cost or drawback to Quirks. Such as... any overflow creates an infant? Did he just make his own child?

Not risking it.

He lunges.

All Might lunges for the simple reason of "oh GOD SUPERVILLIAN AND A BABY!" D:> same as every other hero there.

Meanwhile DANNY? Retired Halfa Superhero, Zone Councilman, and LATE to his DnD night... is beginning to suspect THIS is what Clockwork meant when he said "some roads take longer to get home".

Was that that a "Lol good luck buddy"!?

@mutable-manifestation @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @hdgnj

[fizzigigsimmer]

Don't Fuck With Dad

Also known as the ficlet where Billy accidentally becomes the guardian of a future baby and falls in love with his baby daddy in reverse.

The first raindrop splats against Billy’s cheek seconds before it begins to pour. Back home, Billy would have been able to sniff out the change in the air a mile away - that familiar scent of salt and brine that rolled in off the coast whenever a storm cell passed through.

There is nothing to warn anybody a storm is coming in Hawkins fucking Indiana. He hasn’t smelled anything but mud and cowshit for weeks, and the only respite he gets is when he is driving late at night, windows down, pedal to the floor.  

He’d ignored the first few drops and the heavy looming clouds because he didn’t want to entertain heading toward whatever lame hick shit the kids at school were getting up to. He sure as fuck wasn’t about to go home to Neil and his bad mood. 

It would be calling Billy’s number eventually, so why rush it? 

Except the rain was stirring up something foul - rot on top of wet  - the funk filling his nose. Taking a final drag on the cigarette between his lips Billy tosses it to the side of the road and rolls up his window before it can fill his car. God damn he hates this town.

The rain is really coming down hard now. Sheets of it blurring the lines of the road in front of him. He’s still a few miles outside of town. Thinks he’s getting close to the old power plant. There isn’t much to see on either side except for gray fields and the brown smudges of trees, either way but it still makes him a little edgy. He finds himself wondering about Max. Just because he’ll catch hell for not knowing if he gets home and precious baby Max is unaccounted for. Like it’s his fault her dumb ass doesn’t know enough to come in out of the rain.

Kid is probably fine. She is probably riding around like a queen right now in Harrington’s car with her nerd friends again. Which he isn’t going to think about, because he had new rules for himself since that strange night in October. Staying away from Steve is one of them, even in his mind. Especially in his mind actually. 

The irony is, he’s totally thinking about Harrington when it happens, but even if Billy hadn’t been distracted the rain was coming down so thick he probably wouldn’t have seen him anyway. The figure running across the road suddenly appears between his headlight beams and there’s nothing he can do but slam on the brakes and turn the wheel, hoping to god that he doesn’t hit them.

He does. The car slides on the wet pavement and fishtails to one side before he feels the ominous thud, between his palms and up his arms, his thoughts becoming a litany of oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

The body lays on the side of the road, a few yards away from where Billy struck it - him! Holy shit. It takes seeing the guys beat up sneakers and mud splattered levis for it to really sink in that he has just hit a real person with his car.  Like a live person, who might now be un-alived, thanks to him!

Billy’s knees are knocking together, his teeth rattling in his skull with shivers that have nothing to do with the rain soaking through his clothing as he runs over to the body. It’s definitely male - jean clad legs splayed awkwardly on the pavement, his toros curled in a fetal position. 

“Hey! Hey buddy, are you alright?” Billy calls, praying desperately for a response. Slides to his knees in relief at the body’s side when a pained groan reaches his ears.

Billy pushes at his shoulder to turn him over before he remembers that you’re not supposed to move an injured person and the man on the ground moans softly. The hair on Billy’s skin raises at the familiarity of the sound. And it’s a revelation, because there’s no reason for Billy to know Harrington by something as small as that - just a grunt of breath under the pounding rain - but apparently he does. 

Steve’s a wreck: tears in his clothes, scratches on his face and arms, and underneath the thick layer of dirt that stains everything else Billy spots blood. 

But it’s not just his injuries that unsettle Billy. It’s the strange lines on his face like he’s aged ten years since basketball practice. He doesn’t understand why Steve looks like he’s been through a war zone - or why he smells like absolute death. Billy can’t help but make a disgusted face at the stench of rot that clings to him as well as the slime - not mud - covering his clothes, and now Billy’s hands. Fucking gross.

“B-Billy?”

Familiar brown eyes blink open slowly and stare up at Billy dazedly, but before he can answer a sharp cry cracks through the air. An infant's cry. It’s so wrong and out of place that Billy jerks back like someone fired a gun. Steve reacts to the sound on instinct, pulling enough strength from somewhere to sit up and open the thick parka he wears and reveal the tiny bundle strapped tightly to his chest.

“Hey, hey, baby it’s alright. Daddy’s here.”

He makes these shushing sounds, rushed and insistent despite their softness, as he tries to sooth the baby. Tells the kid everything’s gonna be okay as he unwraps it, shaking hands feeling over its body for injuries. Billy just hopes it’s true. It’s so fucking small in Steve’s arms and Billy hit it with his car!

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Billy demands, swapping terror for beligerant rage because what the fuck is Harrington doing running across the road like that with a kid anyway. “I could have fucking killed you!”

The rant makes Steve look at him again, but it’s not with an expression that makes sense. For a moment he seems confused, like he didn’t understand the plain English coming out of Billy’s mouth. And then something like dread creeps over his face and he turns his head to look back at something in the darkness. 

“Billy.” Steve breathes his name like a prayer and it makes the cold hand of fear drag down his spine. Steve sounds downright terrified. Billy follows his gaze but beyond the glow of his headlamps all he can see is the dark silhouette of the iron gate that surrounds the old steel mill. 

“What? What’s the matter?”

Harrington doesn’t answer. Instead Billy suddenly finds an infant shoved into his arms and has to fumble not to drop the damn thing. It begins to wail again as it is handed over, but Steve doesn’t stop this time to try and soothe it. He wipes the water off the poor things face and presses one hard kiss to its forehead - daddy loves you - and then he’s pushing himself up onto his hands and knees and  stumbling to his feet.

“Wait a minute! Harrington what the hell?!” 

Billy clambors to his feet after him as quickly as he can manage without dropping the screaming baby in his arms, his heart sinking into his stomach because that sure seemed like a goodbye to him.

“I need you to take her.” Steve sways on his feet, weaving like a drunk and pauses to pant for breath before he looks back at Billy. “Get her out of here.”

“Fuck you! You’re not -”

Before Billy can finish, a strange animal scream rips through the air, chilling his blood. He can’t place it. Can’t say it’s a cat, or a fox, or a rabid fucking coon, cause he’s never heard anything like it before. It doesn’t sound right.

“Billy, listen to me.” Steve warns even as Billy demands to know what the hell that was. “Keep her safe. Okay? You have to get in the car and go. Right now!”

The thing is, Billy is inclined to agree. Whatever is out there in the dark making that awful sound is not something he wants to meet. But -

“What about you? Where the hell are you going? Steve!”

But Steve is staggering away from him, visibly powering through the pain as he runs into the darkness. Toward danger.  He shouts something over his shoulder that Billy isn’t sure he catches right. Something about coming back for the kid. 

And then he’s gone.

[bluegalaxygirl]

Amnesia (KidKiller X Reader) P4

Plot: After an explosion reader wakes up in a hospital with no memory of the past few years, her parents want to take her home so she can recover and get back to a normal life while the Kid pirates want her back on the ship where she belongs.

Warning: Bad language, injuries, burns, memory loss, manipulation, Family Issues, Blood, Violence, Torture in the first bit and mentions of Death.

Reader is Female, Poly Relationship, established relationship, Kid X Reader X Killer, Reader is a member of the Kid pirates and is in charge of the money, Budgeting and negotiating the best price.

< Previous part ….. Next Part >

Hours have passed and the screams have long since stopped, now only replaced by grunts of pain or the sound of someone choking, no one dared to enter the room that Kid and Killer were currently torturing the Commodore in, no matter how loud or horrifying the sounds got. The now back to normal Marine hits the ground hard, blood spitting out of his mouth after being punched hard in the face by Killer before being stomped in the gut by Kid who grins menacingly "Fucking spill it already" Killer growls bending down and taking a fist full of the mans hair pulling hard enough to almost rip the scalp, the commodore can't move with the chains wrapped around his body and his hands tied behind his back, anytime he sneered or spat at them Kid would use his devil fruit to pull the chains tighter causing already broken bones to shift and crack. "I-i can't… I owe him" The marine coughs out making the two growl, Kid stomps on his stomach again this time bending over and leaning on his knee to push down harder as Killer grabs the mans forehead while the other rips the hair he was holding off his scalp. The commodore screams out in pain, his voice breaking and husky from all the yelling and screaming he's been doing the past couple of hours, "I don't care who you owe. You'll tell us where she is and why" Killer stands once his screams of pain turn into whimpers and pants, the masked man holds up the mans hair now slightly stained red with the marines blood before letting it fall to the floor sending chills down the commodores spine. Kid's metal hand grips onto the man's neck pulling him up a bit to drive his foot in further "We won't stop until we get what we want, you won't die, we won't let you" The captain growls in the mans face.

Knowing there is no way out and that death won't save him from the two he gives in, but he knows better than to tell them everything, so he'll only give them the bare minimum. "She'll be at a hospital on Kyuka Island by now" He chocks out making Killer sigh in annoyance, the captain rises an eyebrow looking up at the masked man since he's never heard of that island before. "Its located in Paradise, the first half of the grand line, it's also a Holiday island not well known for its hospitals. Its a long trip back and there are plenty of hospitals on the way so, Why there?" Killer asks kneeling down to the marine feeling skeptical that its really where you are but at the same time why would the marine make up such a stupid lie "I-I don't know, I was told to send her there, that's all" Kid's grip tightens on the man's throat still not happy about the lack of information, the marine struggles as much as he can while trying to breath thought his tightening wind pope. "Who told you?" The captain yell's before letting go of the Commodores neck letting his head drop back onto the floor, panting the marine groans in pain as a small trail of blood seeps out from under his head "Her-her farther, he said he'd meet her there. That's all i can tell you" Killer stands up with a grunt as Kid groans removing his foot from the mans stomach, a wave of relief washes over the commodore thinking their done with him but the two still stand over him looking at each other before striking their hands out. The commodore's eye's widen when seeing the two doing rock, paper, scissors, The masked man wins twice in a row earning a grumble off the captain who kicks the wall before walks away and over to a metal chair sitting down on it with a slight sulk.

Killer walks over to a table of instruments carefully deciding which one to pick first deliberately drawing it out to make the commodore panic which works well since the marine tries to wiggle away while babbling. "W-wait, please, i-i really can't say anything more. I can't disgrace him, he's done so much for me" The marine screams out as the masked man walks back over to him a short jagged knife in his hand "Please, please, i beg you… I can-" The commodore's words are interrupted by a sharp pain in his right shoulder and stomach, Killer quickly kneels down pressing his leg into the marines stomach while jamming the knife into the mans shoulder, gasps and pants of pain fill the air as the blonde twists the knife with both hands making it slow and painful "If you think this is bad, he's just getting started and then it's my turn, so you might as well keep talking" Kid smirks from his seat his arms crossed over his chest and one leg crossed over the other while watching his partner work, the show has made his mood better but the whiny man is starting to get on his nerves by not just telling them what they want to know. "He-he gave me those drugs, he's helped me get this far, even if i die, i can't give you anything more… i owe him my life" The commodore pants before screaming out in pain as the knife in his shoulder is dragged down a bit before twisting again. The two didn't care about any of that stuff, all they want is to know is why you were taken? Why your family wants you? and who the hell your farther is.

----- Kyuka Island -----

The first thing you're aware of is the smell, antiseptic mixed with a dull musty smell that hits the back of your throat when ever you breathe in, you know that smell all too well, the smell of roses has always made you feel sick and thats why you hate them. As your body and mind starts to come round you start to notice more things, the sound of beeping close by, a slight dripping noise, the sound of someone turning the pages of a book. no not a book, the page sounds too big, maybe a newspaper, several faint voices and footsteps seem to get louder only to fade away. There's no longer darkness around you but a faint light trying to pass through your eyelids that you try to open only to feel pain shoot through your body, your legs, chest and arms feel heavy and tight making you gasp "Y/N, Oh sweetie it's ok" Your mothers voice calls out as a hand touches yours, her voice shock's you since it sounds so concerned, it's been so long since you've heard anything other than disappointment and anger from her. Opening your eyes you squint at the white light but its soon covered by your mother's smiling face, it's different than you remember, her hair has white and gray streaks, and she has a few wrinkles at the sides of her eyes. "Mum?" you ask while furrowing your brows in confusion "It's ok now sweetie, your safe, your home" Your mother breaths a sigh of relief as she strokes your hair, it feels nice but there a pit in your stomach telling you something is wrong.

You try to sit up but your mother grabs your arm trying to help you sit up, the touch sent a shooting pain through your body forcing you to push her arm away grunting in pain "I'm sorry, i was just trying to help" She panics a little but you ignore it and sit up resting your back against the bed frame while scanning the room. You're the only patient in the room but there's another bed next to you that looks like it's been slept in, a blue curtain separated the two beds but its pulled back letting you see the full room, the walls are white but the floor if blue, for some reason the coloration brings you a kind of familiarity but you don't know why. Each table and bookshelf in the room has a vase of Roses on them in all different colors except red, no wonder you felt sick with the smell. Your in a hospital, attached to a heart monitor and drip but why? Your try to think but nothing came to mind, everything's fuzzy at best, your Mother places a gentle hand on your cheek bringing you out of your mind and turning you to look at her. "It's ok sweetie, your going to be ok" she soothes you moving to sit on the edge of the bed with a warm loving smile, taking your hand she lightly pats it to reassure you showing you comfort you dont ever remember getting from her. The sound of paper turning again gets your attention, looking to the other side of the room you find your farther in the corer sitting in a comfy chair while reading a new paper. It doesn't surprise you that you didn't see him before but seeing him made your stomach drop, he looks very different from the last time you sore him, his hair is fully white, he's overly thin yet still muscular and has a scar along his left jawline.

Your mind runs with questions, how long have you been out? why does your farther have a scar and why is your mother being so nice. you shift your body turning to talk to your father only to wince at the pain in your legs. Quickly turning away from him you look yourself over noticing the state your in "What happened?" you ask seeing your arms are bandaged up, your left arm is in a sling supporting your shoulder, your chest is wrapped up but also covered by a white and blue stripped hospital gown, again it seems familiar and brings you a kind of warmth but that quickly fades away when looking down at your leg, you can't see them from under the blanket but the feeling is weird, it strings and feels tight but when ever you move its like something is loosely rubbing against tender skin. Your mother doesn't answer your question instead she just looks down at her lap in sadness "What do you remember?" Your father finally speaks not bothering to look up from his paper, your mother sighs and bring your hand over to rest it on her lap giving it a light rub "What he means is, the doctor said you hit your head pretty hard so you might have some memory loss, what do you remember?" She gives you a sad smile as your farther turns the page of the paper still ignoring your presence like always. You ignore your farther and try to think of what you remember, its clear up until your 18th birthday. "It was my 18th birthday… you two took me somewhere to get my gift or something… Gods i can't remember where" you groan in pain as you grip your head trying to remember, that day is kinda fuzzy but you remember your parents being so kind to you, they didn't yell at you, they let you eat what you wanted and dress how you liked. Did they give up on trying to control you? If so then why does this memory bring you pain? "It's ok honey, don't try and force it, the doctor said your memories should come back in time, you'll do more harm if you keep pushing" She smiles seeming happier than she should be but then again she's probably happy that you still remember her "You're missing a lot though, In a way i'm glad since you won't have to think about those awful people" she sighs looking down at your hand and squeezing it lightly a few tears welling up in her eyes.

Your mothers reaction shocks you shocks you, she's never shown this type of emotion for you before, she's upset, worried, scared for you. "What? How much am i missing? What people? Why are you crying?" you ask starting to panic at the sight before you, not knowing what to do you pat your mothers hand, but she starts to sob making you freeze in place. Your farther sighs and stands up folding his newspaper and putting it into his case before walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder "Calm down Marie, she's back with us now" Your farther was never one for emotion, always Stoic and stating the facts, you knew that if it weren't for his money your mother wouldn't have married him. Your mother wipes some of her tears starting to calm down as your farther tries to explain "Your 24 years old, so your missing quiet a bit but when you turned 19 you were kidnapped by pirates and held for ransom, we paid the money, but they never handed you over something about needing your skills, they forced you to be a part of their crew and work for them. We tried getting you back and the marines got involved, but they were too strong. A year later the government put a bounty on your head for being a part of a pirate crew, it hurt, but we hoped if someone did capture you then we would be able to take you home. Those pirates got into another fight with the marines a few days ago and there was an explosion, you were caught in it but the marine took care of you and thanks to some help all charges have been dropped, and we have you back" You farther explains with that deadpan look.

You stare at him in shock, you didn't know what to think or how to feel? Kidnapped by pirates and your parents actually spent money to get you back, it sounds crazy to you but your mothers tears seem genuine, she seems hurt by all this. Your mother sniffles while raising her head to look at you through teary eyes, she grips your hand harder "I'm so sorry sweetie, i can't imagine the hell you went through or what they did to you… I'm so glad to have you back though" Your mother suddenly hugs you making you freeze in place once again not used to any kind of affection from her. It's a lot of information to take in and now your mother was hugging you, you can hardly remember the last time she hugged you and that had nothing to do with the memory loss. Patting your mothers back you try and sooth her the best you can "I-Its ok mum… I-i'm here now" you stutter as she cry's into your uninjured shoulder, your father places a hand on your head getting you to look up at him "I may not show it but i'm happy to have you back with us" he tries to give you a smile before heading back to his chair where he sits down and starts to read his newspaper again. You stay there while your mother cry's into your shoulder, her arms wrapping tighter around you, it feels nice so you hug her back but kept your eyes on your farther. Despite their loving words and affection something seems off but you can't put your finger on it, something in your gut is telling you to leave but there's no reason in your brain to do so or doubt your parents words.

----- Few hours later -----

Your mother holds your hand as the doctor stands at the end of your bed reading out your injures, he's tall and skinny with dark brown hair but white stubble on his chin meaning he deferentially dies his hair to look younger, he looks to be in his 60's and he by his mannerisms it seems he has been a doctor for quite a while but his uniform is very clean almost brand new. The nurse standing next to him gives you a sweet smile showing of the pink lipstick and perfect white teeth, her curly black hair makes it hard for nursing hat to fit on her head and she's thin but deferentially has muscle's judging by the sleeves on her arms being pushed to the max. "You have a broken eye socket, cheekbone and three ribs, you have multiple fractures in your feet and legs, but they have healed quiet quickly. There are a number of laceration to your arm, stomach and back due to either glass or wood that we had to extract. Your on medication for pain, infection and you'll be finishing the last of your blood bags today then we can just give you pills instead of the IV." It was a lot of information but you nod along, the doctor suddenly starts moving around the bed and pulls back the covers letting you get a look at the rest of your body, the hospital gown covers your thighs but bellow you knees are covered in bandages while the rest is covered in wound dressings. "There are three main things I'm concerned about and that we'll be checking on every day" He states while unwrapping your bandages, you can hardly tell what your looking at both your legs are there, but they look so weird. "First are your legs which both have second degree burns, blistering and peeling of skin is normal, and they should heal in about three weeks, but they will need to be cleaned everyday, we'll apply burn cream and wrap them up until the skin starts to scab" The doctor states before stepping back and letting the nurse bring over a bowl of cool water starting to clean your legs, now and again it would hurt, but she was gentle as she dabs the wet cloth on your strange skin.

Your skin has different colored blotches on it, some of them you can make out to be either a piece of a skull or half a word. "Will it heal ok? Why is the skin like that?" Your mother asks as she stares at your legs, the doctor gives her a small smile in reassurance before his eyes flick down to you "There's nothing to worry about it'll heal fine, as for the tattoos on your legs they won't look the same, your skin may go darker or lighter where the burns are and it'll make your tattoo's look patchy since its removed some of the ink" The doctor explains making you relax knowing the black areas and spots of random colors are tattoos and not from the burn. It makes you sad though, you don't remember getting those tattoos or why, did they mean something to you or did you get them just for fun? Maybe you can find some later that aren't damaged and see if it brings back anything. "The second things i'm concerned about is your shoulder we had to take you into surgery to fix it and due to how long it's been open and how deep it was you will most likely have a permanent scar. I don't want you using that shoulder too much so for most of the day you'll wear a sling" The doctor grabs the fabric of the sling on your shoulder and unties it, he shows you how to tie it yourself and how to take it on and off before putting it back in place and letting your arm rest in it. " After the stitch's come out we'll talk about physical therapy, until then don't lift anything with it or put pressure on the wound" He states watching as you nod to tell him you understand.

You look over to your mother whose eyes are fixed on your shoulder a look of sadness on her face but you couldn't tell if it's for you or because there will be a scar. The doctor lightly places his hand on your uninjured shoulder getting you to look back up at him, so he can continue. "The last things i'm concerned about is your head, we managed to patch up your cracked skull and stitch up the cut but with your frontal lobe taking most of the damage we were highly concerned about Memory loss. Its not uncommon and you will get headaches but try not to worry" He removes his hand from your shoulder to touch the bandage on your head making sure it's not too tight and not too loose, you hoped he would continue so when he didn't you know you have to ask "My Memories… When will they come back?" You ask only for your mother to bend down and take your slinged up hand "Sweetie, You shouldn't have to remember those horrible times" You pull her hand off of yours all while keeping your eyes on the doctor wanting an answer from him, the doctor gulps before clearing his throat seeming to make time to think before he talks "I don't know, you may never get them back" You shake your head at him, that can't be right, something has to come back, you can't just be missing years of your life forever "It'll be ok sweetie, maybe it's for the best" Your mother tries to sooth you taking your hand again, this time you don't push her away instead your eyes turn to your legs again seeing the nurse start bandaging them up while the doctor pats your shoulder "I'll check on you tomorrow, for now just rest" His voice is soft but does little to make you feel batter, with one last pat on your good shoulder the doctor walks away heading out the room leaving the nurse to finish up.

[verdemoun]

Dutch Motherfucking Van Der Linde in timewarp au.

@themodernpr0metheus because this is your fault be warned it's 1400+ words

so much to process. every single damned character in timewarp is affected by the very idea what became of Dutch Van Der Linde again let alone how they're meant to handle it when Dutch comes back. also gentle reminder that in the report the bureau wrote that John shot and killed Dutch so that's a whole other conflict they're going to have to deal with

also for the 1899 gang it's been 12 years. honestly for most of them it's been 12 years the only person who really interacted with dutch after 1899 was Micah and Dutch fucking shot him. Micah is still salty about it. look at that rat man you know he can hold a grudge.

12 years, no Dutch. Hosea's nearing his 70s, he has his wife and a house. Lenny, Jenny, Karen and Sean aren't kids anymore they're well into adulthood with legitimate jobs. Arthur and Charles are the new curious couple with Isaac their unruly son. Kieran doesn't jump or flinch anymore when people try to talk to him. Hosea really got everything he wanted - they're out of the gang, they're safe and happy.

Also Dutch isn't the only one coming back in a relatively short time period. They have to go all the way to Mexico to get Javier and Bill. They have to get John!! John, who was shot at the house Charles and Uncle helped him build for Abigail, who stared down a firing squad because it gave Abigail and Jack time to escape. They absolutely have to be there for John.

Hosea thinks long and hard. Dutch: who left Lenny to bleed out alone, who was willing to leave John to be executed in prison, and left Arthur to die alone, and abandoned Javier and Bill. Dutch: who formed another gang and killed innocents, used Muriel Scranton as a human shield before shooting her IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE OF A DISTRACTION TO LET HER GO ALIVE DUTCH. Is it everything he feared would happen to Dutch? Is it the Dutch he started to see glimpses of after Blackwater or did he know, deep down, this is what Dutch was always capable of?

What's the pettiest, bitchest thing he can do? Absolutely nothing. Hosea Matthews sits down with the gang trying to prepare for the 1911 returns and says that he is not going to get Dutch Van Der Linde. He is not going to see Dutch, talk to Dutch or help Dutch. Dutch is not welcome in his home or near his family and he doesn't expect nor want any of them to afford him the luxury of coming into their lives.

Annabelle is the one who goes to collect Dutch from the base of a cliff. The last time Annabelle saw Dutch, he was young and idealistic, and she had to read about Blackwater and everything that came after it right up to his death. She needs to see him so she can understand how someone she did genuinely love became something so evil that the people who did love him had to sit down and seriously ask themselves if he could be redeemed.

And Dutch Van Der Linde hits her with the 'you're as beautiful as the day I lost you'

She so nearly, nearly faulters. God as much as she hates him she wants to believe there is a reason, a sound, logical reason how Dutch abandoned so much of the ideals that made him Dutch. It's a tremendous burden only people who have loved Dutch know but deep down there's always a part of you that will love Dutch, as much as you try to kill it. She desperately wanted to believe she as the oldest, the most separated from Dutch, she was over it - but it's there. That awful demon is clawing its way back into her mind as she wonders if she can fix him, if she can save him and make him something recognizable again.

She knows damn well this is why Hosea knew he couldn't be the one to get Dutch.

Remembering why she has to be the one to get Dutch, to protect the gang she is now part of again and cares so much about from falling into the very real, intoxicating charm of Dutch, she holds her ground. Pulls away and tells him to get in the back seat of the car.

She takes him to a very nice, private, well-researched, pre-booked and thoroughly inspected in-patient mental health ward. the gang themselves have argued whether or not Dutch did the things he did because he was mentally ill or hit his head too many times or if he would've become a monster regardless but they do agree something is not right with Dutch and frankly 24 hour medical supervision is probably something he needs regardless because no one wants to just… bring him into the homes and lives they've tried to hard to build in modern era.

i promise, dutch is thriving. the d in dsm-5 might stand for dutch once the doctors are through with him but he's getting diagnosed with A lot.

they're paid to listen to him so he's going on so many rants and giving speeches and they're sitting there listening and nodding and asking questions (as they frantically write notes) and he's just basking in the attention. -> this. this is dutch's life

also dutch getting to finally admit to and work through his grief over what happened to the gang. he saw the old guard die. he lost so many people he cared about. he lost john. john left. john would've moved on completely after micah's death if not for the bureau. and the gang did lose faith in him, even before then. he felt it, he knew it. they did betray him (in his warped sense of betrayal)

also just dutch getting into intense philosophical and ethical debates with both his doctors and other patients. his doctors knowing they are absolutely not meant to engage when dutch is on a rant but it's just so fun debating with him

medication does help get Dutch back to something closer to 'old Dutch' he's still very grandiose but he's calmed down to the point he isn't reckless he can recognize when his behavior is crossing into outlandish

it's inevitable the gang do reach out to him and find it personally terrifying how close they can get to forgiving him before they remember all the shit they went through as a direct result of Dutch's actions

occasionally take him out on day trips but he is not getting to the point where he can be left to roam freely. Dutch always was and always will be a dangerous person when he can morally justify it to himself.

Dutch reuniting with Hosea hits so hard. hosea can only avoid him so long and dutch is old and tired and pulls hosea into a hug on the verge of tears and hosea cannot stop himself from hugging dutch back he still loves him god damnit he loves his wife but he will always love dutch and seeing dutch get help and try to become his old self again would hurt so much in such a positive way

his doctors (who have searched dutch van der linde and now think Dutch has delusional disorder and only thinks he is the Dutch Van Der Linde) do not think he has actually committed murder but the gang know he is very, very capable of murder

dutch is an avid triple mango vape enthusiast. no one knows how he keeps getting them.

he still thinks everything would be fine if they just went to tahiti

he is the #1 evelyn miller fan and thinks evelyn miller's death is further proof of his brilliance. during supervised computer time he will be on the evelyn miller subreddit and sometimes needs to be forcibly removed from the computer because he becomes so enraged at bad takes

the gang are all very protective of their kids being around dutch when he is there (including micah who does not want his stupid annoying pain in the ass grand-nephew kai to become Dutch-ified) but somehow they managed to raise well-rounded young people who just shrug and go 'lmao dutch is talking again'

dutch goes on volunteering excursions for habitat for humanity (under annabelle's supervision) and thoroughly enjoys it. he gradually becomes less 'fight the system for the good of all man' and more 'focus on the good i can do in one (second-chance) lifetime'. all i want is aged dutch in the modern version of his 1911 outfit kneeling in muck and smiling because he's Actually helping people again and he didn't know how much he missed it

[appleiover]

. ݁₊ ⊹ HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

synopsis ; you're forced into a position you don't want to be in when the marquis is in need of a new employee and you fit his high standards.

୨ ˙ ∘ contents. post-canon. canon divergent. fem!reader. implications of murder. mentions of murder. 4.4k words.

notes. finished the john wick series [including 'the continental'] and i am obsessed. here is a work of my favorite arrogant french brat. please be advised that english is not my first language. enjoy!

THE WEATHER FEELS LIKE AN OMEN.

rain falls along all it can touch, tired eyes observe two droplets in a head to head race down the tinted window of the sleek, black town car. gently and idly, the pad of your thumb runs over the smooth surface of the sapphire jewel in the center of the silver ring around your index finger. there’s a hint of bitterness across your tongue, from the drinks on the plane or the new york atmosphere you’ve not been in for quite some time that you’re not sure of. maybe an unfortunate mixture of both. your brows twitch, pupils shrinking deeper into your irises as they climb up the many floors of the tall, looming building of deep brick build and many windows at a round corner.

the town car comes to a slow stop before the stone steps leading up to the double mahogany doors with the gold trimming. “i can retrieve it myself.” you speak after clearing your throat, the driver shifts back to his seat and you sit up yourself on clean leather seats. “thank you.” he nods silently in return, meeting your eyes with his deep blue ones through the rearview mirror. you turn and grab your umbrella from the space beside you, the door opens to bring cold winds against your face and through your dark clothes with some droplets of hard rain.

pattering against the smooth black fabric, you hold up your umbrella over your head and turn to the slightly ajar trunk of the town car. water splashes where the wheels of the sleek black suitcase hit the ground, more water splatters when you slam the trunk shut and turn on your heeled boots towards those stone steps. the doorman doesn’t move an inch more when you shake your head firmly at his attempt to step over to take your bag for you. the continental hasn’t yet lost it’s hospitality, you think while he opens the door for you and takes your umbrella after you give a word of gratitude.

familiarity hits you like a train when you enter the continental. it smells of expensive colognes and perfumes dancing with cigars and top shelf liquors. everything is dark, black and deep brows with golden trimmings and warmer ambient lighting rather than overhead fluorescent brights you can recall of the old continental. you see some familiar faces, some new ones, some you’re not too fond of seeing. rolling along the ground smoothly, your bag stops beside you with the release of the handle once you reach the front desk. but a bit of disappointment drags at your heart, your eyes flickering up and down the new concierge.

“welcome to the continental.” the woman with copper skin holds a heavy accent of one from east asia. she smiles a plastic smile, her big hazel eyes hold your gaze with a politeness a woman of her position needs to hold. “we are quite pleased to have your return, miss.” she says pleasantly while her gaze shifts away to the computer her manicured fingers type along quickly. you nod gently while you tug off your black leather gloves, watching her closely and admittedly admiring the beauty of her. from her long dark hair to her deep purple dress. “i have you for four nights?” asks the concierge.

you shake your head gently. “i’m unsure. it could be shorter or longer.” you explain. she smiles a bit bigger with a gentle nod, some more clicking and clacking as you push your leather gloves into the inner pocket of your long dark coat. when you retrieve a gold, round coin with intricate detailing along the front, back, and edges, you slide it across the counter.

without looking at you, she exhales through her aquiline nose and smiles while retrieving it. it disappears into the pocket of her classy dress that reveals her prominent clavicles. “room 820. please enjoy your stay, miss.” you nod in gratitude, taking the key from her and grabbing hold of your bag to hold it off the ground rather than roll it. tossing a glance to the bar past the desk, you decide against having a drink at the risk of being pushed into conversation by those who are already eyeing you throughout the walk to the expensive and well-built elevator.

once you’re in your room, you look around and notice there aren't many differences. it seems the rebuild of the continental meant a true rebuild. the room feels cold, not temperature wise, but in another sense. cold gray walls, minimal furniture and decor of bland, dreary colors. the saving grace of the room is the beautiful view overlooking the city across the distance, bathed in nothing due to the thick and heavy storm clouds, a dark gray wool blanket over the sky. you stand by the view for a few moments with your coat and heeled boots discarded beside a chaise seat of a deep black velvet.

you shudder a bit, admiring the view but not the city itself. you’re unable to. yet you can’t pull yourself away from windows dripping in rain outside. thankfully, the ringing of the old telephone beside the bed draws your gaze. you turn and you walk over with a brisk pace.

“hello?” you answer.

the concierge’s voice comes through the line. “forgive me for the disturbance, ma’am. the manager would like to see you in the lounge, would you be inclined to see yourself there in fifteen minutes?” your brows furrow, your lips part in moment’s hesitation, silence is all that comes out. “ma’am?”

begrudgingly, you nod despite her inability to see you. “of course. i will be there, thank you.” hanging up the phone and slowly easing yourself down onto the edge of the soft bed with expensive, smooth bedding. your hands press to your knees and your lashes flutter shut. as if being in new york wasn’t enough of a weight on your chest and shoulders – to be here without the “comfort” or whatever you might call it of the familiar people you’ve known through the entirety of your career…well it’s all the more difficult. especially given the fact that if rumors stand true of who the new manager is, well, you’re not particularly eager to see him.

regardless, you change out of the slightly uncomfortable clothes that feel too worn in from travel. once in a dark pencil skirt and long-sleeve black top that hugs you the same, you leave your room with dark heels and dark pantyhose to tie the look together. you want to be comfortable, but you’d rather not hear his mouth should you look anything but professional and formal.

in the lounge, which is anything but a place to lounge in your opinion, your eyes immediately find the man unfortunately true to word of mouth. he sits in a leather seat, his ankle over his opposite knee in a pressed pinstripe suit of deep navy and white accenting. in his large hand adorned in two expensive silver rings to watch his expensive silver watch is a glass of rye. you breathe in deeply and walk over, hands folding behind your back and your thumb gently stroking your ring around your index finger. the highly revered louis leblanc turns to look at you, a handsome man tall and dark grins with pure satisfaction in his olive eyes.

“ah such a pleasant face to finally see in new york. a smile that could make the clouds clear.” he coos and praises while setting down his glass to stand. you refrain from rolling your eyes at the charm of the man that must have used such flattery and charisma to slither his way onto the seat he doesn’t deserve to see nevermind sit on.

you force a smile, meeting his gaze and taking his hand outstretched to you. “a pleasure as always mr.leblanc.” you shake his hand, he leans closer and grins wider while sandwiching your hand between his large ones.

louis leblanc, a frenchman with a love of rye and women of the night. he looks older since last you saw him, his inky black hair tousled carelessly holds streaks of gray and facial hair covers his chin and upper lip in a well-groomed style. those sharp and angled cheekbones still on display as is the c-scar on his left side of his jaw is a reminder for you to not let him get too far beneath your skin. still, his touch makes your skin crawl and that bitterness increases tenfold along your tongue.

“oh, no formalities, my dear. i am aware it has been some time but please – regardless of my position – louis is fine.” of course he’d subtly slip in a brag of his newfound rank. you pull your hand away and refrain from wiping it off onto your skirt, instead you hold it behind your back and look into his gaze that’s just an inch or two taller than where yours naturally rests. the man gestures to the seat across from him, another leather seat across a long-legged round table with a vase and burst of color in red roses in the center. “sit, please.” it isn’t a request. clenching your jaw, you take your seat across from him.

you’re unable to help yourself, fixing one knee over the opposite with hands folding down on your lap. “you must be very pleased with where you sit.” you comment, tone calm and relaxed and face the same. louis smiles at you wider, the older man sighs almost wistfully. dramatically. you know this man, perhaps more than you know anyone else in this world, at least now with the death of the three you could once call family. unfortunately, knowing him isn’t sweet and comforting as it was with the others. it’s only bitter and rigid. he’s a performer, a marinette with numerous faces. “i never imagined you’d take a managerial position, you never were one to follow rules.” you observe while not breaking eye contact with him.

shrugging lazily, the frenchman reaches for his glass. his eyes flicker downwards momentarily before returning to your gaze. “what can i say? who would be foolish enough to pass such a opportunity?” he takes a sip and your eyes flicker to the bartender who sets down a glass of your favorite liquor in front of you. your brows twitch and lips part but louis continues. a good distraction that gives the bartender time to walk away and shift your focus to louis. “and any excuse to leave that shit den of reuben.” louis scrunches up his hooked nose with the mention of paris, disgust evident in his face.

despite your prior choice to not drink, you can’t help it around the suffocating air of louis. you take the glass and raise it, offering a comment before a sip. “is this what you wished to talk to me about? i was on a plane for thirteen hours, small talk isn’t necessarily something i’m fond of after such a thing.”

louis grins, a crooked one with raising thick, but well-groomed, brows. “you are not fond of it ever.” he remarks with a light chuckle. then he shakes his head, he waves a hand with a sigh. “but always straight to the point, how i’ve missed it.” louis sets down his glass and his hands fold on his lap while you set down your glass to instinctively copy his movement. “i was simply curious about your time away, why you’re returning despite your lack of response when called forward by the table for a certain…boogeyman just a year ago?”

the muscles beneath your warm flesh and within your warm clothes stiffen up immediately. the mention of the man dead and gone, a rotting body beside the most wonderful woman you had ever met, makes your heart twist and feel cold. your gaze doesn’t waver, neither does your expression or demeanor. shrugging gently, you tilt your head.

“you know where i was as i’m sure you know why i’m returning.” you reply, never one to necessarily mince words or care when speaking to louis. maybe a bit stupid on your part given his new position but you still don’t care. your eyes finally drift away, you gently rub the sapphire on your ring and your brows furrow slightly. “the table has already questioned me about my disappearance during that time, i was off the grid with the permission of the manager of the continental in japan.”

a sparkle dances across the olive iris of louis’s eyes, his smile lessens ever so slightly. “yes…the manager who is now dead for fighting for the life of a traitor.” your jaw tightens ever so slightly. the implications of louis’s words make your stomach coil with barbed wire and your heart ooze with citrus into fresh wounds. leaning forward a bit, louis tuts his tongue. “but forgive me, i was simply curious. i truly did not think you’d come all the way back to new york for a simple meeting with the table. do they not usually come to you?”

you know what he’s doing. he’s trying to make you nervous, jittery and shaky. into that girl he once knew. but it doesn’t work, just as it hasn’t for years.

“the table calls and i come.” you reply while you glance at your thin watch with a small shift up of your sleeve. then you lift your gaze and a bit of a humored smile tugs at the corner of your lips. so faint that if not for the twitch in his brow you might think he didn’t notice it. “you of all people should know that when the table tugs on your leash, you come.” louis’s perfect jaw tenses, he reaches up and his knuckle gently brushes that scar. you wonder if it’s instinctive, if he even knows what he’s doing there.

slowly, he stands and exhales deeply with a pleasant smile returning to his handsome face. “i do hope we might have dinner before your departure, well if the meeting with the table isn’t something too severe.” he says sincerely, albeit a bit stiff given the tension between the two of you so thick it could be cut with a blade. you nod, reaching for your drink and bringing it towards you with your eyes trained on him. buttoning his jacket, he turns and takes four steps before he pauses. you pause with your lips on the rim of the glass. “i am sorry for your losses, my dear. heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

there isn’t a droplet of sincerity in his voice. not a single morsel. there’s amusement…satisfaction just as there is at the corner of his lips and twinkle in his eyes. your eyes narrow ever-so-slightly in a glare as he steps away. taking a big drink from the glass of liquor, you set it down and place the back of your hand against your mouth. a burning sensation moves down your throat, a sharp exhale pushing from your nostrils. your eyes screw shut for just a few seconds.

you hope this meeting with the table is swift enough. you don’t want to be in this hellscape for a second longer.

⠀⠀꒰ྀིㅤㅤ ಿㅤ　﹒　　 ׅ 　ㅤׂ　　 ݃　　♱ . . ݁ 　₊ 　　⊹ 　. ݁　　˖ 　.　 ݁

the table calls when they want, wherever they want, however they want. it’s two days later when you find yourself sitting in a beautiful gallery of oil paintings within one of the highly revered art galleries of new york. you’re dressed proper for the occasion of meeting a representative of the table. long straight slacks with a flowy dark blouse tucked into the high waist with some buttons undone from the clavicle to the cleavage. a coat rests on the cushioned long-seat beside you as does your purse. one knee rests over the opposite, your tall heel bouncing and fingers twirling the ring around your index finger while you admire a beautiful renaissance painting in wait.

an odd place to meet with a representative, a speaker, an – often – stiff and frigid person. usually meetings will take place quite literally anywhere else formal and stiff. not such a beautiful place. you’re not necessarily complaining, it’s nice while you wait. but you’re a bit more than irritated as the half hour mark of tardiness passes on your thin watch. it’s already nine-thirty at night.

a minute passes and clicking of shoes can be heard. you slowly stand and turn to the sound of footsteps, five people, and fix your appearance. hands fold behind your back and you step around the chair. but your heels come to an abrupt stop just as they come back together when your eyes first land on the man you know of, the man you’ve heard of, and the man you’ve never seen. but the crest that lies against his left breast pinned in his perfect deep crimson colored suit with accents of black and trimmings the same, is as obvious and clear as rain to you. your anger sparks a hot flame in you, bitterness sweeps your tongue so sour you nearly make a face while standing straight and poised.

what is it with the french and your penchant for detesting them?

the marquis de gramont walks towards you with one hand in the pocket of his slacks and the other idly resting at his side. he walks with a swiftness, a sureness in each step and confidence in his broad shoulders that almost conceals the arrogance in his tall frame. cryptically, beautiful but piercing almond sunken eyes a gorgeous light shade, analyze you from the toe of your heels to the very top of your head. pink lips are set thin, his entire face cryptic and body untelling of what he may be thinking or what he might do next. your brows furrow slightly, he stops just four feet before you. the four other men he’s with stop with looming and intimidating demeanors.

the frenchman speaks your name, then he exhales deeply and steps closer. “such a pleasure to meet such a prolific woman of your reputation.” his hand extends out, you nearly hurl having to put your hand forward to take his. he smiles politely, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes. “and at such a young age too.” you’re unsure what he means by that, what it has to do with anything. his hands are soft, his grip firm.

you pull away your hand, maybe this is the table’s subtle way of punishing you. as if you’ve ever been silent of your dislike for the marquis. “i did not expect you to be the one i’d be meeting, sir.” still, you’re not an idiot. you mind your manners, tucking your hand behind your back and holding his eyes with two steps back. “what is it the table wishes to discuss with me?” straight to the point, blunt.

“abrasive” as louis would say.

“admirable” as john would.

pushing the men out of your head, you give your attention to the marquis who raises his brows a bit. he nods and folds his hands behind his back just the same. “ah, you are as blunt as spoken, mademoiselle.” he comments, observes obviously. “well i was the one to call for you, though i knew if i did not use the table with my hand you would not fold your own.” your brows twitch and the marquis brushes a hand over his chestnut, brown-blonde hair perfectly styled. then the marquis smirks a bit of an arrogant one. “i am aware you are not a fan of me. no need to be surprised of my knowledge, i know quite a lot about you.”

maybe it’s the new york air, maybe it’s facing the man who murdered the one person in this world undeserving of being taken out by a spoiled, rich prick, maybe it’s time spent in the continental – constantly feeling watched. whatever it may be, your patience feels much thinner than usual.

“is this the part where that is meant to make me nervous?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

the marquis raises his brows ever so slightly. then he looks past you, to the painting. “no. i am simply stating fact, miss.” slowly, he walks towards you – well towards the painting behind you. and he continues speaking. “in the passing of the formidable, the boogeyman, what all call him, word of mouth is his little…protege is on par with him.” you blink softly, he walks past you and you turn to watch him. his expensive cologne fills your head. it’s irritatingly pleasant, just enough.

“is this little spiel heading to a point?” you bluntly question, hands tightening behind your back where they hold one another.

you notice slight tension rise in the shoulders of the marquis. you’ve heard enough about him. a man calm and cool, calculating and cryptic – as unpredictable as a bomb ticking and ticking with no set time. you’ve heard the stories of those who test his patience, who test his hand, who do anything but nod and smile obediently. who do anything but ask “how high” when he says “jump”. still, you’re bitter. whether it’s subconscious or not, you ache and you hurt. you’ve been in this world for so long, you’ve lost so much and gained plenty and yet still…some things have a way of seeping into you.

seemingly admiring the painting, the marquis tenses his hands at his sides before he folds them behind him again. he slowly turns to face you and he lifts his chin ever so slightly. “my closest advisor, my personal guard, recently left on an indefinite vacation. in need of someone new, your name is the one that came up most amongst my peers and those i do business with.” your eyes widen ever so slightly, blinking and unable to bite back the scoff in your throat, you shake your head.

“they must not have your favor in mind in that case.” you reply matter-of-factly. shaking your head gently once more, you look him up and down before meeting his admittedly pretty eyes. “if you know of my dislike for you so clearly, then how can you trust me to protect and advise you? to carry out your orders?”

“because you have no say in this.” the marquis replies bluntly while tucking one hand into the pocket of his slacks. you furrow your brows and blink, anger pushes like a hot wave throughout your entire body and frustration tenses all of your muscles. with a gentle shrug and bored expression, he gestures to you lazily with the hand not in his slacks pocket. “and you are no fool, mademoiselle. you will do as told and you will not bite the hand that holds your leash. despite your mentor, you are more one to follow rules, no?”

he’s right. irritatingly and rage-inducing so. furrowing your brows and pressing your lips tightly, your eyes flicker around the beautiful gallery. despite the man you’d known for some time, despite the rumors of your level of skill in comparison to his especially with the gap in age – despite every connection you’ve had to him, you’re not an idiot. you don’t hold any belief to be above the table, to be untouchable, to be disobedient when the table does in fact hold your leash. and those hands include those beneath the table.

but this feels like a punishment, torture. to be forced to advise and protect the bastard responsible for taking all you had left. to be forced to give your life for the spoiled, arrogant frenchman’s.

“the table would not even allow you to take me from the work that brings plenty to their feet.” you reason with obvious anger thinning your tone and a glare narrowing your eyes at him.

it takes plenty to not break his jaw against the seat he stands behind when a slight ghost of a smirk twitches at the corners of his pink lips. but the bored expression remains, he exhales deeply. “they are quite pleased with such circumstances, mademoiselle. perhaps your little…coincidental unavailability in the wake of the search for john wick has left them a bit sour.” so this is a punishment. too much blood for that you couldn’t shed. you feel the faint thrumming of anger in your heart, frustration twisting your stomach and resentment tying at the muscles and tendons within your body. this bastard shouldn’t even have the right to speak his name…and yet he of all people was the one to kill him.

like a dog, you’re trapped in a cage. you have no say in this and you know it as well as the marquis does. your brows twitch and your hand reaches up to gently place over your mouth. you’ve swallowed plenty beneath the table, you’ve taken more. this feels like the last spill of bitterness forced down your throat. and with the reminder of your oath inked across your back and branded against your tailbone, you slowly drop your hand and your eyes meet the marquis’s de gramont’s.

“i am not your dog or your pet.” you begin, straightening your posture with brows knitting and expression hardening. “i won’t do tricks for you or kneel. i will do what this job entails, advise and protect but i will not be your little pet as all those who work beneath you are.” you finish without being subtle in your glances to the men that stand for intimidation behind you.

despite the flash of annoyance in his eyes, the marquis smiles with a deep exhale. it doesn’t reach his eyes. “why of course, mademoiselle.” slow steps come towards you. “this is a pleasant conclusion, i must say i expected a bit more resistance.” you reluctantly allow him to take your hand, he shakes it and you begrudgingly return the formality. “you will be phoned with all to come, i suggest you do not leave the continental. i will be seeing you tomorrow.” the marquis nods at you before releasing your hand.

that pleasant cologne fills your head, you turn and watch him walk away from you. his men follow and your brows furrow tightly, fists clenching at your sides but not allowing any frustration to release until he’s out of sight and ear.

“son of a bitch…” you groan beneath your breath while placing a hand over your eyes.

part two.