#do not bring in personal attacks against the drivers to this

[thebirdsareafterme]

It’s actually crazy how this particular poll has double the engagement of every other poll and also the only one with propaganda. Everyone is so passionate about these two ships specifically and that makes me so happy. I love seeing all the artists come together to make funky lil posters!

However!! Some of y’all are taking this way too seriously. Accusing people of cheating in a fandom poll for racecar drivers, or in turn, accusing the other side of “crying because they’re losing” and just generally being disrespectful is seriously not good sportsmanship. Grow up a little bit and just enjoy it for what it is: a fun activity that someone put together out of the goodness of their heart. It literally does not matter who wins. Chill.

Group A: Semifinal

[astonmartinii]

i hope your finger’s ok!! please take all the time you need and remember you health comes first :) imma be selfish and send you a charles request cause ur writing makes me smile at my phone like an idiot and i can’t help it :p ok so!! charles x versteppen reader? shes max’s sister and drives for redbull (cause im delulu like that) and they’ve been fighting w each other since they were kids (no one knows why they started arguing they’re j petty and refuse to give it up even though they dk what they’re arguing abt anymore) and obvs they’re in love w each other - maybe another drivers flirting w her or smth and charles j snaps and hard launches the reader cause surprise they’ve been dating each other 🤭 holy shit this is long sorry for rambling 🙏🙏

angel baby, devil child | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x verstappen!reader

enemies to lovers blah blah blah

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 1,743,200 others

yourusername: crazy, crazy race. sorry not sorry to the tifosi, tell ur girl @charles_leclerc to kiss my ass not my rear tyre xoxo

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user1: okay they're clearly still in the enemies phase... when can we skip to lovers

user2: i personally love that charles is the mortal enemy of both verstappen siblings that's so slay of him

maxverstappen1: crop me out again and say goodbye to a tow in qualifying

yourusername: sorry maxy, not my fault i got all the photogenic genes xx

maxverstappen1: erm rude @christianhorner tell her to stop bullying me

yourusername: two can play at that game @sebastianvettel tell max to stop being a baby

user3: the way neither christian or seb replied they really don't get paid enough to deal with them

charles_leclerc: what is it with verstappens and their love for pushing me off the track

yourusername: what is it with your front wing and my rear tyre

charles_leclerc: umm i asked you first

yourusername: stop deflecting babe, we all know you love my ass so much you wanted a touch

charles_leclerc: i'd rather deep fry my hands than touch your rear

maxverstappen1: that can be arranged

user4: can't wait for these three to all be in the same press conference next week 🍿

carlossainz55: my favourite person to share the podium with

yourusername: thanks chilli (@tifosi you heard it here sainz is against ferrari 1-2s)

carlossainz55: NO that's not what i meant

landonorris: i see how it is ... god all men are the same AM I NOT PRETTY ENOUGH FOR YOU?

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,204,809 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: happy birthday to my bestest friend, biggest rival and favourite roommate. though maybe now you're 23 you can get your own place so you can sneak out to meet up with your secret boyfriend on your own terms and can keep that massive ballsack away from jimmy and sassy. i love you and verstappen dominance 4 ever.

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user7: i love y/n but i think she should bring her cat to races as a scare tactic

yourusername: wrinkle doesn't appreciate your tone but it is duly noted

yourusername: awwwwwwwww i love you maxy !! and you're never getting rid of your little sister unless you get married and ur a big fat nerd so that's never happening xx

maxverstappen1: attacking me after i just bought you a whole ass car

yourusername: i JOKE. thank you soooo much and you'll never get rid of me you love me too much to anyway.

maxverstappen1: enough to finally introduce me to the mystery man?

yourusername: blocked.

user8: are we all just ignoring her doing her literal eyeliner with a knife?

user9: or the fact that max likely walked in and was like oh wait this is a sick shot

danielricciardo: oh no that was me, i'm still traumatised but it's probably the best photo i've ever taken

yourusername: easy to do with a model like me

charles_leclerc: wtf is that thing in the last one

yourusername: rude of you to think ur balls look any nicer

charles_leclerc: what?

yourusername: what?

user10: does anyone want to elaborate?

carlossainz55: happy birthday y/n !

yourusername: thanks carlos, thank you for the flowers 👍

user11: this is either their way of flirting or y/n really couldn't give a flying fuck about carlos' obvious crush on her

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 2,098,560 others

yourusername: another trip around the sun and still following my brother around, difference is now i beat him x

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user16: your honour i am so obsessed with her

maxverstappen1: can't even be angry about it, you deserve the world

yourusername: you softy, i love you

maxverstappen1: also dummy i know who your boyfriend is now did you guys forget that we LITERALLY LIVE TOGETHER

yourusername: i was intoxicated my bad but we bought you breakfast?

maxverstappen1: literally the only reason he hasn't gone over the balcony, he might want to be gone before this hangover wears off

yourusername: noted.

user17: yall want to share with the class?

user18: based on ^^ this reaction i'm going to say it's not carlos

user19: watch out he'll drop a shit pick-up line in a second and be rejected

carlossainz55: hope you enjoyed your birthday beautiful

user20: bro this guy STINKS

user19: i told yall

yourusername: thank you carlos

user21: i'm sorry this is dry as hell it can't be carlos

charles_leclerc: my shoes will never recover, i'll be sending an invoice your way

yourusername: you're a millionaire boo, you can replace those tacky white trainers yourself

charles_leclerc: is having no manners a verstappen trait?

yourusername: come for max all you want, but the birthday girl? low leclerc

charles_leclerc: when you go low i go lower

yourusername: oh believe me i know all about you and going down

user22: DO YALL MIND?

user23: do they think we're dumb?

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, lancestroll and 1,204,674 others

charles_leclerc: a weekend without racing?

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user24: what is biden doing about the soft launch pandemic?

user25: well this is oddly timed ...

yourusername: you look like you'd have sweaty hands

charles_leclerc: wouldn't you like to know

yourusername: unlike all ur fangirls i've actually smelt you sweaty after a race so you can keep your hands to yourself

maxverstappen1: you heard her 🤨

charles_leclerc: why are you here? is this a 2 for 1 deal on annoying dutch people

yourusername: you can call him annoying all you want, but you love me don't lie

charles_leclerc: my lawyer says i shouldn't comment on that ;)

sebastianvettel: when will you two stop?

yourusername: sorry seb :(

charles_leclerc: sorry seb :(

user26: i know carlos is sick reading this weird flirting when y/n never comments on his pics

user27: she comes here just to flirt cause she didn't even like the photo

user28: she doesn't even follow him 😭

pierregasly: i love a slow burn as much as the next person BUT NOT WHEN I DON'T KNOW WHO IT IS PICK UP THE PHONE

charles_leclerc: you're so dramatic, nobody knows calmar

maxverstappen1: he's lying i do

pierregasly: WHAT

charles_leclerc: by ACCIDENT i didn't tell him by choice

user29: so like, it's definitely y/n LOL

user30: oh no everyone get ready marca is going to run a story tomorrow about how charles leclerc is ruining carlos' career with psychological warfare by flirting with the girl he likes

user31: sainz sr about to wage war lol

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 2,304,889 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: i don't share. i love you. please follow me on instagram now (and let me come on max's jet) x

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user35: HOLY FUCK

user36: they're so fucking sexy my lord

yourusername: you're so weak, one teammate flirts with me and you hard launch, i've had 12 year olds use me as a face claim to pretend they're pregnant with your child

charles_leclerc: they took your face? i happen to quite like it, can they give it back?

yourusername: quite?

charles_leclerc: don't make me look bad you know i positively LOVE YOUR FACE

yourusername: and my ass since it's all you look at on track

charles_leclerc: okay you can drop the act now people know we're in love stop being mean to me :(

yourusername: but it's true, no?

charles_leclerc: rest assured i love your actual ass much more

maxverstappen1: believe me the people she lives with know WAY too much about how much you love it

user37: carlos sainz really thought he had a chance when these fools have been together for TWO years

sebastianvettel: congratulations you two, glad we don't have to watch you two trying to be subtle now

maxverstappen1: so wait when did you find out?

sebastianvettel: about two weeks into the relationship, they were very obvious

yourusername: thank you for keeping our secret dad <3

user38: y/n really said you ARE my grid dad

yourusername: oh no that's my actual dad

charles_leclerc: he's literally going to walk y/n down the aisle

maxverstappen1: please don't tell me you're engaged? i only just got over you actually being together

charles_leclerc: i'm not your brother yet don't worry (i will be soon)

carlossainz55: congrats guys

user39: it's okay bro you can cry

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 2,301,541 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: two years with the love of my life, still on max's side on val d'argenton x

view all comments

user40: they're disgusting (when will it happen to me)

charles_leclerc: we'll have to agree to disagree

yourusername: just admit it you love to push verstappens off the track

charles_leclerc: sorry babe as much as i love you, i'll never let you win x

yourusername: good thing i always beat you then x

charles_leclerc: either way victory sex still bangs

user41: yes, yes they're cute, but i need a full on play-by-play of how this relationship came to be

user42: i know these menaces were giggling and kicking their feet every time they had an argument in comment sections

yourusername: oh it was very fun

charles_leclerc: but the radio messaged are 100% real lol

maxverstappen1: thanks for having my back, you're welcome for all the gross pictures i've taken for you guys

yourusername: consider your payment like every meal i make us

maxverstappen1: well if i did it f1 would be down three drivers

user43: wait so does charles basically live with them now?

maxverstappen1: unfortunately yes. depressing music, even worse cooking than me and horrendously loud sex with my sister. i should kick him out

charles_leclerc: i literally bought you noise-cancelling headphones?

maxverstappen1: nothing you can say will save me from this trauma

yourusername: just shag daniel and get off of our case x

note: ahhhhh i am so sorry this request took so long, my inbox keeps moving stuff around lol. my finger is good thanks for asking, the human body is a wonder and i peeled off the last of my scab this week lol. i hope this was the kinda thing you were looking for !! xx

[sunny44]

Anxiety

Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!reader

Warning: panic attack, anxiety, English is not my first language and maybe more…

Summary: Lando has a panic attack because of the pressure of racing at home and Y/n helps him to calm down and show him that he’s good enough.

On the eve of the British Grand Prix, Lando was struggling with the pressure.

I stood outside Lando’s hotel room, my heart heavy with concern. The British Grand Prix always brought a special kind of pressure for him, performing in front of his home crowd, and I knew this race was weighing heavily on him. The door was slightly open since I was outside making a call, and I pushed it open gently, my eyes immediately finding Lando sitting by the window, a shadow of his usual self.

His eyes were distant, his body tense. I could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his hands gripped the armrests of the chair. Lando was lost in his thoughts, drowning in a sea of self-doubt and anxiety.

"Lando," I called softly, hoping to anchor him back to the present. There was no response. I moved closer, my concern growing with every step. When I reached him, I knelt down and placed a hand on his arm. He flinched, his eyes wide and filled with tears.

"Lando, it's me." I said, my voice steady but filled with worry. "Talk to me."

He tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Instead, a choked sob escaped his lips, and he buried his face in his hands. My heart ached for him. I had seen him face many challenges, but nothing pained me more than seeing him in this state.

I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. His body trembled against mine, and I could feel his ragged breaths on my neck. "It's okay," I whispered, my hand gently stroking his hair. "I'm here, Lando. You're not alone."

For what felt like an eternity, we stayed like that. I could feel the intensity of his anxiety attack, the way his muscles were taut with stress, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. I held him tighter, whispering soothing words, trying to ease the storm raging inside him.

Gradually, his breathing began to slow, and the tension in his body started to ebb away. I pulled back slightly, cupping his face in my hands. "Look at me, Lando," I said softly. His eyes met mine, and I saw the pain and fear that had consumed him.

"You are an incredible driver, but more importantly, you are an incredible person." I said, my voice firm and filled with love. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone. I love you for who you are, not for what you achieve on the track."

He shook his head, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "But what if I fail? What if I'm not good enough?"

"You are more than enough," I replied, my tone unwavering. "Success isn't measured just by wins or podiums. It's about passion, dedication, and being true to yourself. You've already achieved so much, and I'm so proud of you. But even if you never win another race, I'll still love you just as much."

My words seemed to pierce through the fog of his anxiety, bringing a clarity that he desperately needed. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight on his chest start to lift. "Thank you, babe." he whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out." I replied with a smile, kissing his forehead. "We'll face everything together, one step at a time."

“Okay.” He smiled a bit and I kissed him.

“I’ll grab you some water.” As I was getting up, Lando hugged me tighter.

“Can we just stay like this a little bit more?” His voice was low.

“We can stay like this as long as you want.” He didn’t said anything but just by the way he started to play with my fingers I knew that he needed more time like this.

We stayed there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the world outside the hotel room fading into irrelevance. The tension that had gripped Lando slowly gave way to a fragile calm. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my own.

Eventually, I felt him relax, the tightness in his muscles easing. I knew he was finding his center again, the overwhelming pressure starting to dissipate. I gently ran my fingers through his hair, a comforting motion that I knew helped him relax.

"Lando," I whispered softly, "I believe in you. Not just as a driver, but as the amazing person you are. Tomorrow, when you get on that track, remember that it's not about proving anything to anyone. It's about doing what you love and enjoying every moment of it."

He nodded slowly, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "You're right. I need to focus on the joy of racing, not just the results."

"Exactly," I said, smiling. "And no matter what happens, I'll be here, cheering you on, proud of you every step of the way."

He sighed, a sound of release and acceptance. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he repeated, his voice steadier now.

"You'll never have to find out," I replied, a playful glint in my eyes. "Besides, I still need to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't get into too much trouble."

He chuckled, the sound a welcome relief from the earlier tension. "I'll try to behave," he said, a hint of his usual mischief returning.

We stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped in each other's presence, finding strength and comfort in our love. Eventually, I pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. "Are you ready to get some rest now?" I asked gently.

He nodded, his expression more at ease. "Yeah, I think I am. Thanks to you."

“How does a bath sound?” I asked him.

“Sounds very good.”

“I’ll prepare one for you and then we can get some rest.”

“Thank you.” He said and I went to the bathroom and prepared the bath.

I helped him get up, guiding him to the bathroom, I helped him get out of his clothes and the he get in the bathtub.

“Is I warm enough?”

“It’s perfect, just like you.” He said and I smiled at him. “Wanna join me?”

“I’ll love to.”

After some time in the tub we got out, got dressed in our pijamas and went straight to bed. He lay down, and I pulled the covers over him, and I laid on the other side and I think for the first time ever he was the little spoon.

“Wow, this is good.” He said getting cozier.

“What is good?”

“Being the little spoon.”

“I’ve told you many times but you never believed me.”

“Yeah, but usually I’m the one that protects you and not the other way around.” He said with his voice very low.

“I know baby, but sometimes you need to be the one that should be protected.” He didn’t said anything. “I'll stay awake until you fall asleep."

Lando reached out, taking my hand in his.

"I don't deserve you." he said softly.

"You deserve all the love and support in the world." I replied firmly. "And I'm here to give you just that."

He smiled, a genuine smile this time, and closed his eyes. I stayed behind him, holding his hand, watching as his breathing evened out and he drifted off to sleep.

As I stay there, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pride and love for him. Lando was an extraordinary person, and I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, stronger than ever.

When I was sure he was asleep, I quietly moved and turned off the lights, leaving a small night light on. I kissed his forehead one last time. I held his hand and closed my eyes to get some sleep before the next day.

Tomorrow would be a new day, a new race, but tonight was about love and support, and in that, we had already won.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Luv u baby” tagged: @landonorris

[andcars]

# 𝗙𝟭-𝗕𝗙 ─── GETTING CAUGHT STREET-RACING MASTERLIST . . . REQUEST ME . . . TAGLIST . . . AO3

IT'S NOT LIKE YOU to back down from your boyfriend's talents. you go ahead and start street-racing—you never promised to be good at it. but it is just embarassing for your boyfriend to find you in a police station. ───── MV33 LH44 DR3 GR63

TAGS . . . # gender neutral reader, street-racing, light angst, light couple arguments, all happy and sweet ending TYPE OF FIC . . . # headcanons, imagine LENGTH . . . # 1.4k words (around 300w each driver)

MAX VERSTAPPEN should be mad, he really should be, but somehow he isn't. He gets the call in the middle of the night and is half-awake as he listens to an officer rattle on how you got arrested—he listened to an officer rattle in italian in the early morning. whatever it is that he just said went one ear and to another.

"i'm sorry?" he sat up, rubbing at his eyes and hear how the officer changed to English. okay, you got arrested for street racing in italy. in fucking italy. he's being asked to go in person to bail you out. in italy. at 3am. okay. fuck.

as much as he doesn’t want someone to wake up to drive the jet, he isn’t so much keen on driving either. max pays the pilot early and double the moment he sees him, feeling really bad.

he should be totally pissed, he should be. but you’re leaning against the bars pouting as you see him. he doesn’t want to be upset at you, but he feels like he should be.

he sighs and pays your bail. you’re still pouting when you see him, not saying a single word. “will you at least tell me you’re sorry?” he asks, trying to get something out of you. it doesn’t work. “schatje (sweetheart), i had to wake up our pilot for this. at least say sorry to him.”

poor guy. when you get let out, the first thing you do is apologize to monsieur garnier. he’s very kind about it. though, max was right, he did have to wake up early. you're not about to be much of a burden to a man like him.

max doesn't stay mad at you either. it's like he's incapable of it off-track. when both of you are dead tired on the bed, he just pets you asleep. “if you want to race, don’t get caught,” he said, only half awake. “and maybe don’t do it too much like me.”

LEWIS HAMILTON is embarrassed to have gotten the news from social media. it was no more than an hour ago when he checked twitter (he would never call it x) to your arrest. headlines: ‘LEWIS HAMILTON’S LOVER ARRESTED FOR STREET RACING’. the media didn’t even bother to mention your own name.

you bail yourself on your own and come home to an upset lewis. it’s the race weekend, he should be focusing on the race. instead, he can’t stop thinking about your race. one that, of course, you never told him about.

“how long has this been going on?” he asks first.

you shrug, collapsing on the hotel couch. “a few months now.”

“months—“ he gasps into his hands, running them over his head. “and i only found out now?”

you shrug and turn away from him. “it’s my life,” you argue, “and it’s not like i’m the only one with a dirty history in racing.”

you’re bringing up spygate, he knows that. he calms himself before he could say anything hurtful towards you. “i do it in a safe environment—“

“people die during races, lewis”

“—and i play it safe!” lewis has to walk away from this building argument. “baby, i love you, but i don’t think you can compare formula one racing to street-racing. i need you to promise you won’t do this again.”

sure, street-racing is a fun hobby. and you’re still right about formula one racing being just as dangerous. but there’s some things you have to work on in a relationship. finding a middle ground. you sigh, turning to him, “i’ll only race if you can come then.”

he thinks he’s going to have a heart attack.

DANIEL RICCIARDO wouldn’t say he’s a bad influence. however, it’s not like he’s innocent when it comes to this new hobby of yours either. yeah, he never told you to go ahead and start racing like a madman like he was with max on a redbull. but the message was still the same.

the message, of course, simply being: ‘i always wanted to try street-racing. i bet you’d look good doing it.’

it’s on your third race that you got arrested. you phone him yourself and he arrives in the police station with a worried face. he’s not upset, he’s fucking relieved you’re alive.

he asks the officer what happened and is hit in the gut with the fact that you went street-racing. you don’t even look at him to see the disappointed look on his face. it’s embarrassing. you did this just to look cool in your boyfriend’s eyes and it failed. you thought you had more time to improve.

you’re bailed and you and him walk out. “so…” he trails, voice surprisingly calm, “why’d you get arrested?”

weird question. “street-racing?”

he laughs and you finally look at him. he’s just got this stupid smile on his face as he looks at you. “no, i know you got arrested for street-racing, baby. i just wanna know what did you do to get caught?”

a grunt left you as you remember how it went. “one of those fuckers i race with fucking drove me to the side of the road. almost crashed into the river, but i didn’t. the cops manage to arrest only me.”

“aw,” he places an arm around your shoulder and pats your head. “you think they’ll be scared if an f1 driver were to race with them? i gotta make sure you’re protected somehow.”

there’s really just so many things daniel can surprise you with. you don’t know how he managed to surprise you with this too. “you do know we’re like couple of steps away from a police station, right?”

he shrugs. “it’s unfair if only you can be the one to brag that your lover races.”

“i don’t think you can actually brag to anyone that i illegally race, daniel.” he laughs and already is planning how to keep you safe while you enjoy your dangerous little hobby.

GEORGE RUSSELL got the news from a fan. a fan. he can't name a more embarassing moment than someone asking him if he approves of his partner's street-racing. you told him you wouldn't be able to make it to the race because you were with your family. you were not, in fact, with your family.

he arrives at the police station and you're walking back and forth in a cell with some of your buddies. he's red faced as he talks to the police officers and pays for your bail. his heart churns a little when he hears that you're also being fined for destruction of public property. holy shit.

"george—" you try to talk to him but he continues to walk in front of you. a sigh leaves you. "come on, george, i'm really sorry."

he doesn't say anything. however, he does open the door for you to get in. you're not one to turn down the littlest bit of mercy from your boyfriend.

it's unclear to you how you're supposed to fix all of this. you didn't think it was that big of a deal! it's that you made a small mistake, and one of the guys got a little bit too competitive. of course, it was never in the plan to make george find out about this little hobby of yours.

it's at home when he finally talks to you. he asks you, "are you okay?"

"yes," you don't pick a fight with him about how he only asks that now. "i'm okay."

"good," he drops his anger quickly as he embraces you. "why didn't you tell me?"

burying your face in his shoulder, you're hesitating to tell him. "i don't know..."

he calls your name and you give in. "it's just that i wanted to be like you, in a way. but i'm too fucking old for karting now, i doubt anyone would take me in."

gently, he pulls you away to caress your face. he looks at you like you've done no wrong, like an utter angel in his eyes. he tells you, "baby, if you wanted to go racing then we could go racing. hell, maybe i could pay someone to give us a circuit for a while and we can go karting ourselves."

"it's not the same—"

"of course it's not the same," he cuts you off. "because it's gonna be you and me. not you and some random people that are probably out for blood. it's you, who loves me. and me, who loves you. we'll both be safe and i can be there to watch you win."

your heart hurts from how much george loves you. a smile comes to you and he immediately kisses your forehead. you tell him, "you'll never let me win."

he laughs, "yeah, i won't."

🗒 𝗣𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟 . . . i am alive ~ anyways. here's a funky little thing. i love the idea of street-racing so bad even though i have no knowledge about it other than drive fast recklessly. also ! i'm opening up a prompt list soon for requests so if you have any ideas for prompts (dialogues and tags), feel free to send it over to my inbox or comment ! ˎˊ˗ ᝰ.

──── 📨 @delululeclerc @coconut-dreamz

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments ! ── by andcars ⟡

[55sturn]

✮ TO KNOW THINGS LIKE LOVE

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader [ past tense ]

synopsis: in which matt still grapples with the devastating loss of his girlfriend, y/n.

warnings: angst. angst. angst. ANGSTTTTT. death of main character, car crash including flashbacks, matt dealing with survivor’s guilt, swearing, panic attacks, mentions of hospitals, night terrors. get your tissues ready.

THIRD PERSON POV

for a good chunk of his life, matt had things planned out for him. nick would wake up before both him and chris, plan their day then relay the plans and activities to the two younger triplets, and matt would roll with the punches with a minimal amount of disagreement.

then y/n came along, and she’d plan out dates for them, things they could as a group, and so on and so forth. matt was much more willing to go along with those plans.

matt could count on someone in his life setting the plans for the day. he could count on people directing him where to go and what to do. everyone in his life was reliable.

what he couldn’t rely on, was idiotic drivers t-boning the passenger side of his car, killing his girlfriend on impact. leaving him there, limp and bloody with his dead girlfriend beside him, her hand still in his.

what he couldn’t rely on was the ambulance getting to the scene of the crash in a decent amount of time, forcing him to hear the screeching of rubber on replay in his head.

what he couldn’t rely on was his night terrors and panic attacks, he was living in agony not knowing when they’d creep up his spine, forcing him to shoot up straight, choking back sobs and gasps of airs until he was shaking so violently that he’d double over and empty the contents of his stomach on the ground.

he was no longer the same person he used to be, and it was destroying him.

HERE I AM WAKING UP, STILL CANT SLEEP ON YOUR SIDE

matt was woken from a deep slumber by vivid flashes of light behind his eyelids, followed by glass shattering and y/n’s laugh getting cut short as the other car made impact.

sighing, he ran his hand down face, forcing himself to look at her side of the bed. he felt tears well along his waterline as he saw it in the same state that it was in the day she died, eight months ago. he hasn’t had the heart to remake her side of the bed or to even touch it, knowing she wouldn’t be coming back to mess it up.

pursing his lips, he hastily wiped his eyes, and climbed out of bed. flicking on the hall light, he stumbled into the kitchen. he sat at the table, flicking through his camera roll, watching the countless videos of his girlfriend laughing and smiling, bringing sorrowful tears to his eyes. unable to help himself, he picked up the glass of water he had grabbed himself and chucked it at the wall before dropping to the floor and bringing his knees to his chest, his body completely wracked with broken and choked-up sobs.

upon hearing the crash, chris made his way up the stairs, knowing he’d find matt in the kitchen. as he turned the corner, the sight broke his heart. seeing his brother curled in on himself, choking out sobs that were heartbreaking enough to bring the toughest man to tears.

“oh, matt. i’m so sorry.” chris whispered, sitting beside matt and pulling him into his arms, his face pressed against matt’s bicep as the two sat on the floor.

“it-it’s not fucking fair chris! i can’t do this without her. i can’t fucking sleep without picturing her cold, dead body beside mine, her dead fucking hand in mine. i can’t fucking breathe without her chris. it’s not fair that i get to go on while she’s six feet under.” matt sobbed, his voice raw and completely destroyed, breaking chris’ heart in the process.

“i know man, i can’t fix any of this, and i-i wish i could so fucking badly, but she wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up like this matt, and you know that. i know you miss her and i wish more than anything, to turn back time and stop you guys from going, but please, just hold on. for me, for nick, justin, for mom and dad. for y/n.” chris cried, rubbing his brother’s back, pressing his forehead against the side of matt’s head, trying his hardest to comfort his brother.

once matt had calmed down a little bit, chris let him crash in his bed while he slept on the couch in his room, knowing it was far too hard for matt to sleep in his own room.

THERE’S YOUR COFFEE CUP, THE LIPSTICK STAIN FADES WITH TIME

when matt finally woke late the next afternoon, he made his way back into the kitchen to grab more water, as he opened the cupboard, he spotted y/n’s signature coffee cup, her light pink lipstick stain still imprinted on the side of the cup.

with a sad smile, he gingerly took the cup in his hands, hovering his thumb over the lipstick print. sighing, he pressed his lips to the outer corner of the stain and placed it back in the cupboard.

CLEANING UP TODAY, FOUND THAT OLD ZEPPELIN SHIRT

it’s been two months since matt’s last severe breakdown. he had finally agreed to start grief counselling and therapy, knowing he had to do something about the things he was struggling to handle.

his councillor had told him he should start by bringing out a few of y/n’s things and placing them where he can see them, instead of locking them away and pretending like she was never there.

matt struggled to accept that he’d see her things but once he started doing it, he found that it made it easier. it made the process of healing much, much easier. with her things out in the open, it felt like she was still around the house. he had to remind himself that she wasn’t going to come through that door again, but there’s been a few times where he was able to tell himself that without crying.

and so, following his grief councillor’s advice, he also decided to do a deep cleaning, sorting through his clothes and other random shit in his closet. as he reached to the back of the top row of clothes, he found y/n’s battered and ripped zeppelin shirt.

the one she wore when she’d paint, dye her hair, do deep cleans around the house that involved bleach and other chemicals. with a heavy sigh, he bunched it in his hands, bringing it to his face and taking a deep breath.

for the first time in almost eleven months, the scent of her kingering perfume didn’t bring tears to his eyes. it brought a sense of comfort. almost like she was enveloping him in a hug from the other side of the portal dividing the dearly departed and the living.

IF I CAN DREAM LONG ENOUGH, YOU’D TELL ME I’D BE JUST FINE

as matt drifted off to sleep, he felt a warm hand caressing his cheek. the owner of the hand running their thumb along his cheekbone the same way y/n would. with a slight gasp, his eyes shot open. as his eyes adjusted to the dark room, he saw the figure standing beside his bed,

“hi my love, i miss you.”

“y/n, honey? is that you?” matt choked out, his body overcome with a strong, desperate sob as he reached out to touch her, his hand brushing through her silhouette. but as it brushed through, it almost felt like he was touching her.

“i miss you baby, so fucking much. just know it wasn’t your fault, matt. don’t blame yourself please.” she cried gently, making matt smile sadly, he always thought she looked so beautiful when she cried.

“are you safe, honey?”

“yeah baby, i am. i’m watching over all of you.”

“it’s so hard without you.”

“i know my love. i wish i could come back but i know you’ll be just fine.”

“when can i see you again?”

“some day matt, i promise.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“i’ll love you forever, matty.”

as she pressed as kiss to his forehead, matt’s body jolted completely awake, his head feeling warm where her lips had touched his skin in his dream. normally, he’d feel extremely distraught after a dream of her, but seeing her and hearing that she was safe, made him feel at ease.

unable to fall back asleep, he sat up and reached across his bed, running his hand along the sheet on her side, feeling the duo in the mattress that had molded to her body. smiling, he plucked mr. wrinkleton off her nightstand and planted him in the middle of her side of the bed, finding some sort of comfort in him keeping her side safe.

rolling back over, he reached into drawer of the nightstand on his side and pulled out the small velvet box that he was planning to give to her when the got back that night.

“one day i’ll give this to you, y/n, wherever you are, honey.” he whispered to the dark before tucking himself back into bed.

that night, he had the first peaceful rest he had experienced since y/n passed. he was able to fall asleep knowing how lucky he was to feel love as great as the one he had with y/n. he felt incredibly lucky to have known something so beautiful, raw, devastating, and pure. to him, he felt that to known things like love, is to have lived a full and warm life.

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[shoot-i-messed-up]

Highlights of Green Lantern: Sleepers book one

Hal is, albeit in an old timey way, lowkey implied to be gay via his deflections when Ganthet asks why he didn’t take up any girls’ offers of a night together

Hal daps up a random kid (although I could wrong in my interpretation of what a “soul clasp” is)

Alan Scott asks Kyle if he’s using protection with Jenny-Lynn

Hal tries to kill himself for what is in-book the 15th suicide attempt, but this time via laying down on train tracks. A fox (God) saves him

Limp Bizkit is referenced

Dinah uses her canary cry to bring down a rainstorm on a forest fire by using a frequency that would cause raindrops to coalesce and become heavy enough to fall (crazy creative use of that power)

Kyle has a panic attack because he finds Jenny-Lynn’s pregnancy test (they did not, in fact, use protection, as the narration is so kind to point out)

After that, he says to Jenny-Lynn he’s “going to get milk” but instead he immediately flees to Saturn (classic absentee dad moment)

Sinestro convinces a guy who seems to be the BBEG to hate Green Lanterns by implying that they molest(?) kids from third world countries

That guy (Eddie) describes Sinestro as looking like a “Pixar creature”

Jade has been canonically hit on by Donald Trump. This book was published in 2004.

The way you hail a cab on Qward is by doing the Hitler salute

When Jenny asks the taxi cab driver who she should pay, the cab driver says, “The service is provided by the Qwardians, qomrade.” Yeah. Qomrade.

As two “Weaponers” are about to capture Jenny, she notices “in passing” that they have no nipples. Very interesting priorities, there.

Kyle considers committing genocide, but is stopped by his conscience, which sounds like Hal Jordan so much that Kyle initially mistakes it for Hal telepathically whispering to him

In Oliver’s narration, he says that Hal seemed to have lost a lot of his personality after having become the Spectre

Plastic Man “greatly admires” Two Face

Wonder Woman has given Plastic Man a crash course in physics

Eel apparently thinks he stands no chance against fighting Superman, Batman, or Wonder Woman

Eel asks Hal, the Spectre, why he’s “dressed like a hobo” (which is particularly funny to me because of my fic)

Hal sings “Don’t worry, be happy”

Eel thinks of Hal as being the most “enigmatic” of the League, unlike Batman, who “let you know right off whether he liked you or not”

Hal asks Eel if he would pray to Superman

[thatsdemko]

the ways in which Daniel shows you he loves you - d.ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

warnings: ig post

a/n: in the ig post I provided a variety of different women for some inclusion… also posting because I’m happy Daniel is back ☺️

- cuddles

he used to love his personal space. the bigger the bed, the more space he got. except, he now inches closer and closer to you each night. it doesn’t matter how big the bed is, he’ll make his way over to your side to have his arms or legs wrapped around you. he loves to nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, and in the morning he presses little kisses to your cheek.

- hugs

“I don’t do handshakes.” was the first thing he ever told you, and since then you were used to Daniels embrace. how he pulls you in, is by grabbing your waist, arms wrapping tight around your body allowing your head to rest against his chest.

- laughter/jokes

“what do you call something that’s brown and sticky?”

you’re in tears, a panic attack on the brim of taking over your body and you couldn’t believe what he was asking you, “what?”

“I said what do you call something that’s brown and sticky.” he repeats himself, watching you shake your head and mutter an ‘I don’t know’ in response, “a stick.” his laughter fills in the room, and into your heart, the butterflies in your stomach release watching his big smile take over.

“why did you bring that up?”

“to distract you.”

- his jpg posts

daniel.jpg

liked by landonorris, yourusername, pierregasly, & 4,659 others.

daniel.jpg: mine @ yourusername

- spontaneous trips

“I wish you would just tell me where we are going.” you look over at him from the passenger side. he shrugs, tapping along to the tune from of the music coming from the stereo. whenever he’s got a trick or surprise up his sleeve, he refuses to say a word, which means for long car rides of pure silence.

“we are almost there.” he pulls into a parking spot, checking his phone, “now we just have to walk a couple of miles.”

“whatever this thing is, it better be worth it.”

- always supporting you

a job promotion, pay raise, award/achievement, or even the smallest bare minimum news, he’s there to celebrate you. he’s there to pop the champagne or take you out to a fancy dinner for whatever it is to show you he’s proud.

- holding hands

he’s not too big into the pda, but your hand in his, is a gentle reminder that you’re with him on the journey. he may have just terminated his contract, accepted a ridiculous paycheck, and became a reserve driver, but your hand in his lets him know he’s not alone. and he’ll do the same to help ease the anxiety or panic in your body to keep you from ever feeling scared.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Femme Fatale

Summary: Leon is a cop that got transferred to a new city in order to investigate the spike in murder cases. However, this isn’t an ordinary murder case. It is a serial killer murdering men.

Warning: mentions of blood, violence, death. !serial!killer reader x !cop Leon. Reader is 21+ (don’t drink under the legal age). Reader is female (hence the title lol)

Word count: 4,483

A/N: HELLOOOOO I feel like it’s been a hot minute since I wrote anything. I’ve been seeing a lot of short smut stories lately and I just wanted to bring something different to the table lol!!! Another murder fanfic with no smut (sorry smut lovers, but if you want a part two, I’ll write one!)

“You’ll wish you never met her at all, you’ll wish you never met her at all,” - Maneater, Nelly Fortudo

Nobody knows the true definition of being a femme fatale. It goes beyond aesthetic, but you use that for your own advantage. Seems like society does play a useful role for your adventures.

They are adventures to you, but the police like to call them "ongoing murders," whatever that meant. So, what if you killed a guy at a bar, he was being sleazy and wouldn't take no for an answer, so you acted out in self-defense. The cops believed you because why would they go against a woman who simply defended themselves? That'd tarnish their name and reputation.

So, you got away with your first murder. Easy as pie.

The memory was still fresh in your mind. You were out, hanging at a bar as you drank your savings away. Some horrible event happened prior to the night and what better way to cheer you up than a couple of drinks.

Of course, a man ogled you from the other side of the bar. Practically undressing you and fucking you in his sick and perverted mind. He was at least twice your age, what a psycho.

He had approached you, offered to buy you a drink to which you declined. Claiming you had too much to drink and had work in the morning the next day. You thought it ended at that as you made your exit, only to have life play an incredible joke at you. It wasn't incredible to you, but maybe to the universe it was.

The man had followed you and pulled into a sketchy and dark alleyway, attempting to drug you by attacking you from behind and stuffing a drugged piece of cloth against your mouth right under your nostrils. But it didn't go great for him, he's a total idiot that seemed to have no idea what he was doing. What a damn rookie.

You jabbed your elbow into his gut from behind, the man momentarily paralyzed which allowed you to swing your bag at his face. He stumbled backwards and fell. But that wasn't enough for you, was it?

No, it was not. It never is.

What is a woman if she can't bring revenge to her own self? And so, you watched as the man fell back against the concrete floor, cursing silently that he didn't hit his head hard enough. No worries, nothing a little help couldn't do, right?

You swore you weren't a violent person but as you straddled the man and beat the shit out of him, you felt nothing but pure bliss. A smile plastered on your face like a permanent reminder to the man that women aren't as easy as he thought they were. Oh, how naive men can be.

Blood covered your knuckles, his face so fucked up and bruised that it would be nearly impossible to recognize him. Until you spotted his driver's silence on the floor and stole it. This fucker needed to disappear and what better way than to do it yourself. You needed no help, you were independent. To hell with the patriarchy!

He was a heavy man, but you managed. You strangled him with the straps of your bag, watching as his face turned purple from the lack of oxygen. His eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets as he gasped and tried to pry your hands away. Disgusting, you thought.

The second he died; you didn't move. You needed to make sure he was gone for good and when he was, you weren't stupid enough to leave him there, oh god no.

You burnt him.

His body was tossed in one of those trashcans where teenagers come and lit fires while they committed underage drinking, for once you were happy those teenagers were of help.

And that was the first time you committed murder, and certainly not your last.

-

News reported the numerous cases of dead and missing men, you cried fake tears and showed fake empathy for the families of the victims but deep down you didn't care. They were all bad in your mind, letting their sons and brothers terrorize and claim what wasn't theirs in the first place.

Yeah, you became a mysterious symbol for female murderers. Nobody knew who this sudden serial killer was, much less what gender. But it gave hope to the women of the town, the ones stuck in a toxic relationship, the ones being forced to act like a mother rather than a daughter--you gave each one hope.

Right after the murders were set, the dead men would get exposed to the media. One of your victims had illegal pictures in his hard drive and you had no regret in releasing them to the media. As far as you were concerned, they could all rot in hell.

Your killings continued to pile up, each one different than the other to throw the police off tracks and make them start their investigation all over again. Gosh not only were they lazy but also stupid.

Not until that tall and blonde new cop showed in town. He was new but he seemed like a capable cop. You should've felt scared or threatened at the new addition to the station, but you didn't. You only felt amused that they had to bring outside help all because they couldn't figure out that you were the serial killer.

-

"You shouldn't be drinking during the day," a voice rang out from behind you as you sat on the bar stool, drinking away. You turned your head over your shoulder to find the new cop standing behind you. His blue uniform hugging his muscles tightly, his blonde hair reaching just below his ears and his blue eyes staring at you intently.

"It's not heathy," he added as he walked to stand next to your sitting form, to which you raised a single brow and turned your head back forward and took a sip of your drink, "Good morning to you too, Officer."

"Kennedy," he said, extending his hand out for you to shake, "But you can call me Leon if that's more comfortable for you."

You took his hand, shaking it firmly as you noted how strong he seemed to be, "I don't think anyone feels comfortable in the presence of a cop but sure," you said as you gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Can't argue with that," he replied as he took his hand away and watched you drink. There was a silence that overtook the two of you right before he spoke, he seemed rather hesitant.

"What do you know about the murders?" he asked cautiously, eyes narrowing as he stared at you, watching for any signs of... suspicion, perhaps?

"You mean the ones about the guys being found dead in a ditch?" you asked sarcastically, a half smirk reaching your lips, "Heard too much about them lately. It's all everyone seems to be thinking about these days..."

"Well, it makes sense. This killer seems to be targeting men and then exposing them for their... disturbing habits... you don't happen to know about the town's vigilante, would you?" he asked, propping his arm on the countertop of the bar and turned to face you.

You turned your head to look at him, feigning innocence at his question, "No, officer, I haven't learned anything about the serial killer. Everyone's been busy being on their best behavior..." you glanced down at his uniform, admittedly checking him out before you looked back at his face, "And I suggest you do too, have a nice day."

The would be the last time you saw the cop for the time being. You knew he was going to be tailing you from that moment, so you had to be strategic. Maybe you'd seduce your way out of jail but at the same time, isn't a little game of cat and mouse fun?

-

It hasn't been going well for Leon. As soon as he was transferred from his previous station, he's been overworked with the investigation. Sure, he wasn't a real detective, but he was still a cop recommended by a popular chief. In his email he had stated that Leon was "perceptive" and "had an intelligence beyond human comprehension."

Leon didn't know why the chief was so insistent in getting him out of that station and to a new city, but rumor has it that it was because the chief didn't want anyone to discover the affair he was having. He knew Leon would've been the first one to figure it out.

And it worked, because now Leon was sitting in an office, trying his damnest to think about all the murders. Trying to find a common denominator between all of them.

"You look like you haven't slept in days. Reminds me of my wife when we had our first child," a police officer, by the name of Robert, entered the room with two cups of coffee. Robert was his assigned partner, the seasoned detective sent to teach him the ropes around the new station. But Leon didn't need training, he was already good at his job, and he didn't need a nanny.

He offered Leon a cup of coffee, leaning back against the edge of the desk behind him as he stared at the corkboard with evidence and pictures of the murders, strings going left and right as he linked each crime scene to another, "Yeah, well, I don't have either so I'm sure I'll be fine," Leon responded as he took the coffee and sipped it.

"You're really trying to solve this? You know we've been at a dead end for days, right? Half of these will turn cold and get stored down in the archives..." Robert muttered as he glanced at Leon, to which Leon simply nodded.

"Yep, that's exactly what I'm going to do," Leon replied, as if stating the obvious, "Isn't it suspicious how all of these murders are so... different? Too different?"

Robert could only stare at Leon with confusion, "What the hell are you--No, I don't find it suspicious. I actually think we just have multiple murderers."

"You think about 20 people in this town are murderers?" Leon retorted as he raised an eyebrow at Robert.

Robert sighed exasperatedly, "Okay, maybe not, but how are you even sure this is one person?"

"Because the perpetrator has been too careful. See this?" Leon took a picture from the corkboard, a piece of evidence from the crime scene, "None of the weapons have been found. But we know that they were used. There's a slit in this man's stomach, caused by a knife... don't you see? This serial killer purposefully takes the weapon and doesn't leave it behind because they know we can track their fingerprints and it's a game over for them."

Robert was actually a bit impressed but then he scoffed, "Leon, that seems like a stretch. What if the killer doesn't even use weapons? I mean, what if-what if-fuck. I hate when you make sense..." he muttered, which prompted Leon to smirk just a bit.

"I can feel that we are slowly getting closer to solving this. We just need to think like the killer..." Leon muttered right before the lightbulb above his head lit up, "And what better way than to act the part, huh?"

Robert looked at him confused with furrowed brows, watching as Leon took his jacket and started to make his way out, "Where are you going?"

"The only place where guys roam like fish--the club," he said before he stepped out of the room and started to walk out of the station towards his car. Robert could only sigh, wishing he was young enough to catch up to Leon's speed.

-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered as you paced around your room. Ever since that new cop came into town, it's been hard for you to continue your killings. You're almost sure he's waiting to catch you at any moment and arrest you.

It's been a couple of days since his arrival, but he's been patrolling the places you'd usually go to catch your victim, the bar, the club, hell, even the park!

He was too good at his job and it both pissed you off and stressed you out.

"Fuck!" you yelled in frustration, for the past half year, you've been killing with no problem, but now that going to stop soon enough. You couldn't let the new cop win, this was no longer a game.

This was war.

You quickly dashed to your room, hopping on your bed and getting your laptop. You usually weren't the type of girl to stalk people but screw it, this Leon Kennedy needed to get out.

But to your dismay...he was a decent dude.

Nothing too important stood out. His Facebook was boring, the only pictures you could find were posted by his family. His Instagram was dry, he'd post without captioning his pictures. Who does that?!

You learned he graduated high school at 18, and then graduated from the academy early due to academic excellence and immediately got sent to a police station to work at only 21 years old. He didn't seem to have many friends, but then again, online life was nothing like real life.

But not all was lost. You learned he was 27 years old and single. You could use this to your advantage, to become the femme fatale everyone had been whispering about around the streets.

-

Leon went undercover to the town's most popular night club, he dressed casually and out of his uniform. The last thing he needed was for him to cause more panic than the serial killer had instilled.

"One beer, please," Leon ordered at the bar. The music blasting off from the speakers on the walls, lights down low as lasers and light sticks illuminated the place. People danced around, nothing too suspicious except for the disgusting display of affection by some couples.

"Here," the bartender said as he slid Leon his beer. He wasn't usually a beer guy, but he assumed he need a light drink to push through. vodka and tequila didn't seem fitting for the job he was currently trying to do.

He walked around the club, his eyes glancing everywhere for any suspicious activity. He had found none.

Well not nothing, his eyes landed back on the bar, walking towards it to get another drink and give up for the night. Until he saw you. You were dressed in a tight little dress, your hair and makeup done but he wasn't paying attention to any of that. He paid attention to the way you were talking with a guy.

Now, the idea was still a bit weak in his mind. He had no proof that the serial killer could be a woman but something in him was setting off his buttons of suspicion. Why hasn’t he thought about it before?

Maybe because he had no real reason too. He didn’t mean it, but he thought most murders were caused by men. But he just couldn’t shake off something about you. So he lingered a bit, deciding to forget about the beer and just focus on you.

It didn’t surprise him that you were flirting back with the guy that has been talking to you, he was handsome but not as handsome as himself (his own words). He stood far, making sure not to blow his cover. He hasn’t found anything remotely suspicious so it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on you, right?

That’s when he followed you out the club, the man walking next to you and guiding you to his car. That was weird but he’s heard of one night stands. Personally, Leon wasn’t that type of guy.

The streets were crowded at night and he lost sight of you for a quick second, until he spotted your figure getting pulled into an alley. Suspicious enough? Very much so. He didn’t hesitate to take out his gun from the waistband of his pants, getting ready to defend if anything were to happen to you. He was a cop and a gentleman after all.

But as he approached the isolated alley in which he last saw you, it was unexpectedly dark and quiet. Leon’s steps were slow and quiet as he walked further into the alley, his gun aimed and pointed in front of him in case something decided to jump at him. Luckily nothing did.

Although he did hear a sound. What was that? He wondered as he stepped deeper into the alleyway. His shoes rubbing off the cracked concrete floor until he was met with a horrific sight.

The man that had tried to take you to his car was found dead on the floor. He immediately dialed emergencies and went over to the man, it all happened to quickly and his eyes darted around to try and find you.

-

You knew you were being followed that night at the club and your suspicion was correct when you saw the familiar sight of a certain blonde man on the reflection of a car’s window. He’s astute, too astute for his own good.

Much to his dismay, the man you killed died on the way to the hospital so he couldn’t give out a statement of who had attacked him or what happened. But Leon wasn’t going to rest until he found you, was he?

You debated flying to another country, turning your back and leaving for good. But something stopped you from doing so. What about your job? What about your family and friends? They wouldn’t believe you if you went abroad in your own for no specific reason.

Curse you Leon Kennedy.

-

After that night, he’s been practically living in the station. Evidence piling up but he had no solid evidence that it was you who committed the crimes. His word alone couldn’t be trusted for two reasons; he didn’t even you actively attack the man and his opinion as a cap was already biased! He was in a pickle. It didn’t help that the higher ups pressured him into speeding up the case, they wanted the culprit to get caught already as all the men in the town cowered in their homes. Scared that they would be next.

Not so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?

He knew he shouldn’t but he did anyway. His stalked for your information, sneaking into the town’s city hall to retrieve your files like birth certificates and such. Turns out the police didn’t hold these documents, the city hall did.

He had found your address and immediately began to drive to your place. He needed answers and he didn’t care that he was breaking police code. He knew it was you, you had to be involved in this somehow.

As he approached your place, he wanted to pound at the door like they did in FBI movies but he knew he had to act civil since he had no real evidence to base his suspicions on.

Once the door was opened, he noticed your startled expression, almost catching off guard by his sudden visit. And he wasn’t even wearing his uniform, “Officer,” you said as you stood by your door, “To what do I owe the pleasure…?”

“I saw you,” he said, jumping straight to the point, “The night that man died—you were with him. I saw you walk out of the club with him and then somehow, he died.”

His eyes were piercing daggers at you, almost as if he wanted to peek into your mind and read your thoughts.

But you only stared at him silently, Leon was too smart, “I didn’t feel good and he called me an Uber,” you lied casually.

“You didn’t feel good, huh?” He huffed in amusement, glancing away for a second before he looked back down at you.

“Yeah, I got drunk and started to feel sick. He did me a favor,” you continued with your lie, knowing damn well you weren’t sick at all.

He hummed and nodded his head once, nibbling his bottom lip as he stared at you with an analytical gaze.

“Take care, then,” he muttered, taking a step backwards, keeping his eyes on you. As if telling you that he was on to you. He was going to uncover your secret.

-

When he left, you felt as if the world almost stopped. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, your breathing labored as you thought about what the hell just happened. Damn you, Leon. You really know how to use that brain, huh?

You couldn’t just stop the murders, that would only give Leon more proof that you were the serial killer he was after. No, you needed to keep killing to stray him away. You did it with the other cops, couldn’t be that hard.

-

You’ve killed, but you killed less men. The police had advised individuals to remain in their homes after curfew. That it was dangerous with a serial killer still on the loose.

It was all so stupid. You were serving revenge to all the women who fell into the traps of men and here comes a man to stop you.

That’s when it hit you, what if you tried to kill the officer himself?

No, you couldn’t. That would only sell you out.

But what you could do was send him a message.

On your next victim, you planned it differently. Instead of the clean and simple murder way you usually go with, you decided that you’d be messy. Make him confused, make him believe that the serial killer was a scared person. That would shove him away from you for a while, right?

When Leon arrived at the crime scene, he saw the blood splattered around the brick walls of behind a convenience store. The body dumped inside the dumpster, his body slashed with knife wounds and face beaten up. You tried to make it seem like a man committed the murder, men were messy, right?

Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your perfectly messy murder, Leon had found CCTV footage of the whole thing with your face showing. This was solid evidence to finally get you.

-

And that’s how you ended up at the station’s interrogation room with your wrists cuffed to the table. The room was cold, grey, and bright. Almost looking like a hospital. Modern architecture kills artists.

“So,” Leon started as he sat across from you, files laying flat on the table, “Care to explain?”

“Explain what?” You feigned obliviousness.

“The murders, the blood—everything?”

You held back an eye roll, he had caught you and there was no point in lying, was there?

With a defeated sigh, you leaned back against the chair you were seated on, “I was… only trying to help,” you began quietly.

“Help? By committing murders and bringing terror to the town?”

“You don’t understand,” you immediately responded, a bit frustrated that he didn’t get to understand, “I killed those men because they’re nothing but a waste of space,” you spat bitterly.

He sat there in silence, brows pinching together as he crossed his arms over his chest, letting you continue. There’s no going back when the cat’s been out of the bag.

With a sharp inhale, you continued, “Those men, they do bad things. Prey on women and take advantage of them… I was tired, so, so, so tired, officer…” you whispered.

“When I realized that a man had tried to drug me and take advantage of me, something in me snapped and I knew then that I couldn’t sit back and let him do whatever he wanted to me. I refused to become an object for horny men that can’t keep their dick inside their pants,” you muttered, leaning forward as your eyes narrowed at Leon. You weren’t blaming Leon but he understood your motives.

“So you took it upon yourself to get rid of these guys…” he muttered, his head slowly nodding as he let the information rest in his mind.”

“I did,” you admitted, “I had to.”

“You had to?” He repeated as his eyebrows raised.

“Yes—you don’t understand what it’s like to fear for your life just because of your gender. I didn’t choose to be born this way so why should I let people treat me like shit?”

“I understand where you’re coming from but hurting other people will only hurt you,” he said quietly as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, “How much longer did you think you could’ve kept going, hm? You’re a smart girl, Y/n, you deserve better than jail.”

His words were sincere and for a moment, your walls came down. He was right, in a way, how much longer could you have kept killing people before it caught up to you? Before you lost your mind? You didn’t even think about that.

Silence took over and he sighed softly, looking you over with pity. You were young, smart, and had a bright future ahead of you. He almost felt bad for wanting to catch you this whole time. Almost.

“What’s done is done,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “You committed unforgivable crimes…” his voice trailed off.

“But you had a good reason for them,” he muttered and pulled the files back towards him, “You were defending yourself and your friends during these occasions. It was self defense,” he said firmly, as if he was changing your story.

Wait, what?

The files in his hands held the pictures of you violently killing people, but never once did he actually open that file. Instead, he made up a story for you…

“Why?” You whispered, staring deeply into his eyes. He shrugged and stood up, “Everyone’s been on their best behavior, right?”

-

It’s been a few days since you’ve been questioned. Leon had gotten rid of the evidence and instead made up new ones that led to the story he fabricated for you.

It was all surreal.

Never once in your life, you would’ve thought a cop would help you. You felt shocked, baffled, and confused. But a part of you was grateful. You should’ve known the court system of this town was just as careless as the police station before Leon came because all they did was give you a slap on the wrist and let you go. Once again, not wishing to have their reputation tarnished.

You’ve stopped your killings, for obvious reasons. But, you were glad you’ve lived your five seconds of fame. Even if your identity was never exposed to the public.

You owed it all to Leon. Too bad he had left town. He returned to his city, claiming he had some unfinished business (most like with his chief for throwing him into this town so unexpectedly).

Part of you missed him, it was fun while it lasted, right?

[artyandink]

amoralism | three

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Organised crime, hostage situation, crime syndicate, sexual tension, fantasising, blood, firearms, references to sex, masturbation (use of vibrator and fingers) Agent Dean Winchester (yes, he’s a warning), hostage situation, crazy aunt and uncle

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Under the Influence - Chris Brown

cynicism

After you and Dean were out of the auction house safely, you found yourself getting a call from Sam, which had you wondering if the FBI kept cameras on you two to see if you’d finally given into the copious amounts of sexual tension.

“Agent Winchester.” You cleared your throat, wiping your smeared lipstick off with a makeup wipe. “Talk to me.”

‘We have a situation down on 7th.’ You heard him sigh out, and you could feel the forehead rub through the phone like it was your own. ‘Hostage situation. Our syndicate’s mark is on the front of the bank. You and Dean are the only two units in the area.’

“We’ll see what we can do.” You nodded, saying a quick goodbye before cutting the call and turning to Dean. “We have a situation.”

Dean perked up, stopping his boots from scuffing against the floor in wait. “Did Sammy pee himself? If so, we’re no longer brothers, he hadn’t done that since ninth grade.”

“What?! No!” You scoffed, pinching the bridge between your eyebrows. “Bank on 7th, it’s a hostage situation. Your brother needs us on the scene.”

“Oh, right.” He cleared his throat. “But we’re in, y’know, party clothes.”

“Oh, we’ll get a bulletproof vest, let’s just go.” You groaned, getting in the Impala, while he ran to the driver’s seat, getting in and the purr of Baby’s engine filling the empty street, tires screeching as you both drove off.

You and Dean walked up to the scene of the hostage situation, dressed in your party attire like a couple of melons, but you didn’t exactly bring a change of clothes in the Impala.

That’s why the cops looked sceptical until the badges came out from your thigh holster (Dean didn’t miss the way the guy at the caution tape looked at your bare thigh peeking out from the slit as you got your badge) and the inside pocket of Dean’s suit jacket.

“Well, I’ll tell you somethin’, agents, we’d need special forces in there.” Detective Quixley sighed, shaking his head. “Our criminals are in with the hostages. Refuse to come out, wanna keep an eye on ‘em. They threatened to empty their clips if SWAT stormed the building, and they have men on every exit.”

“They’re meticulous. Know what they’re doin’.” Dean sighed, fixing his cuffs. “We just came from an undercover gig. The lady and I can handle it, but we need bulletproof vests, refill clips and guns with attack damage and horsepower.”

“The recoil is gonna be pretty strong on those ones.”

“We don’t give a damn about recoil.” You cut in, strictly business now that you were on the scene. It was remarkable, how quickly you and Dean could switch. “The guns. And the vests. Quick.”

The tone you were using put some R-rated thoughts in his head, but he shook it off and plastered a smile just as Detective Quixley went away to arrange the guns and vests for the both of you.

“So authoritative.” Dean murmured to you in a lilting tone, a crap-eating grin on his face. “If you weren’t FBI, you’d make a good chef. Barking out orders-”

“Shut up or I’ll kick you where the sun don’t shine.”

“See? God, such a tightly-wound coil. You should release some of that tension. I’ve got a Thai place.” He chuckled under his breath, smirking. “Got a hand of glory there.”

“Workplace boundaries.” You groaned, holding a hand up to his face with disgust. “Really, TMI.”

“We broke workplace boundaries five years ago, sweetheart.” He quipped as you two received NYPD vests, strapping them on. “Well, sort of. We didn’t even breach first base.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “My job depended on first base. I’m not throwing that away for your dumb ass.”

“You wound me.”

“Good.”

You and Dean made your way to the bank’s easiest to access exit that wasn’t the front door, the sound of pacing footsteps telling you there was only one guy.

Your guns held ready, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you both made hand gestures to each other that made absolutely no sense.

You had to abandon all sense of hand signatures altogether.

You’d been much more in sync with the older Winchester five years ago. Before both of you had risen up the ranks. Where you were a growing Major Crimes agent and he worked Narcotics, and the two jurisdictions had to cross.

You two had definitely gotten along better then.

With the whiskey, the laughs, bonding over little siblings, the wet dreams, the near-kisses, the hot sexual tension that threatened to burst.

It’s like meeting after those years had cut the first part and left the second. Only the second.

The second part left you at odds, desperately trying to resist each other and overall frustrated from lack of contact. The contact you almost had five years ago.

God, there’s a hostage situation. Keep it together.

After a fairly obvious mouthing of the word ‘GO’ (Dean’s aggressive mouthing made it seem to be in capitals), you rushed in, grabbing the guard from behind with your arm around his neck so Dean could move in to knock him out.

The guard went limp, eyes rolling back and half lidded as you lowered him with a soft huff of breath as to not alert anyone else. Taking his walkie and his gun.

Dean Winchester laying someone out really did look sexy.

You continued on to the next room, this time Dean holding the guy to allow you to give him an early bedtime. Dean squatted, taking the walkie and gun, storing it in a thigh holster he’d procured.

Is it wrong to feel envious of a thigh holster?

Probably. But you couldn’t ignore the way that thing practically hugged the powerful muscle.

Your eyes even landed on the pout of his lips, the undeniably hot glint in his eyes as he looked down on the unconscious gang member.

“You ok?” You asked while Dean regained a steady breathing pattern, recovering from the onslaught of adrenaline while you did the same.

“Yeah. You?” You didn’t get the chance to answer that, feeling a bat-shaped impact on your back shoulder, sending you crashing to the floor. By the sounds of it, the SWAT team had taken advantage of the brief moment of weakness to storm the room containing the hostages and getting them out.

While you held your shoulder with a low groan, then attempting to push yourself back up, you saw a red headed woman swinging said bat for kicks while approaching Dean. Leather jacket, red-painted lips, leather pants and heeled boots.

She either completely disregarded necessary fighting clothes or she didn’t need them to beat your asses.

“Cheap shot.” You murmured, wincing at feeling tender skin under your vest. That would probably bruise bad, cold compress be damned.

Dean went down easily after a few parried shots from the lady, one leg swept from under him so he stumbled to his knees, her smoothing back his hair and grabbing the short strands in her fist, dropping the bat and grabbing his collar with the other. His hand flew to cover hers, a weak attempt to stop her from doing anything more.

“Dean Winchester.” She practically purred, her thumb rubbing circles into her scalp while she grinned, tongue tracing her teeth. “Famed daddy’s boy. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Dean smiled as cocky as he could while being womanhandled, chuckling. “Oh, I’m famous.”

“I had fun messing with John’s head.” She smirked, tilting her head. “He caved. I wonder if you will. It’s so… satisfying… when they do.” She added that in a murmur, trailing a painted finger down his jaw, having released his collar. “Be a good boy and let this one go for me. Or I could grab my knife, carve out a chunk of that pretty neck and see where it gets you.”

Dean’s eyes flickered to you, struggling to get up behind this random chick, wincing at the pain in your shoulder that you had a hand trying to stabilise, and realised he needed to stall. “Are you gonna kill me or are we gonna make out? Cause I’m gettin’ very mixed signals here.”

“Always such a flirt, aren’t you?” Whoever-This-Lady-Is chuckled, then smirked. “Who would I be if I didn’t introduce myself? Abaddon, handsome. The Knights of Hell say hi-” She was whipped around by you, the fist on your injured shoulder’s side connecting with her jaw. Abaddon’s head snapped to the side for a moment, but then you received the same treatment, your hand reaching to gingerly touch the corner of your mouth and wiping blood from the offending area.

Ah, Jesus.

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow, scoffing lightly. “Thought that’d do something?”

“Made you look.” You grinned, and Dean sprang into action, clamping metal handcuffs around her wrists after drawing them together. Abaddon looked up at you in shock and horror, which prompted you to use your good arm to help Dean push her down to the floor and keep her still.

“FBI.” Dean growled lowly, the timbre of voice sending a jolt through you (not the time, get your act together-) as you forced Abaddon to stop struggling and just lay still. “You’re under arrest.”

“I had that under control.”

That was all Dean could say as you held the cold compress to the back of your shoulder, wincing every time it shifted and put more strain on the bruised skin as you sat at the end of an ambulance. It made your blood boil.

“Gee, no problem for saving your ass.” You drawled back, rolling your eyes, which had Dean shifting uncomfortably before scoffing.

“I could take her.”

Your eyebrow raised to your hairline at that. “You mean the woman who- let’s see - had you by your hair and giving you some weirdly sexual innuendos? Yeah, you had it under control. And you can clearly take her one on one.”

Dean couldn’t help but note the sarcasm dripping off your words, and folded his arms with yet another light scoff. He deserved more respect in that regard. He was one of the best of Major Crimes.

He’d cuffed this supposed Knight of Hell.

“Shut up. What are you even doing, huh? First day working this organised crime thing and you’re already busted in the shoulder.”

“I’m doing my job!” You scoffed, holding the compress over your shoulder. It hurt to move it, honestly, but you’d rather take a banged up shoulder rather than Dean Winchester scolding you.

“And I’m not?” He retorted, hands on his hips. “We’re working this case together.”

“The only reason you’re even in Major Crimes is because daddy dearest pulled some strings.” You seethed, which had Dean bristling.

“That’s not how it went.”

“Then how?”

“What happened, princess, is that yes, my dad was your old CO.” Dean folded his arms, bulging biceps straining against the fabric of his suit sleeve as he did. Your eyes flicked to them, that spark of anger quenching for a moment before forcefully reigniting. “But I worked to get to the Major Crimes unit on my own. Just like Sammy did. Believe it or not, I ain’t just a pretty face.”

“And a hot ass.” A female police officer around your age purred in Dean’s ear as she went by, slapping said ‘hot ass’ firmly.

Dean’s eyes followed her own for a moment before he smacked down his tendencies for the sake of winning an argument.

“Emma. Old hookup.” He cleared his throat, then huffed out a breath. “There’s a point to where I’m goin’ with this. For us to work this case, sweetheart?” He gestured between you and him. “We need to sort whatever this is… out.”

“Last time I checked, we didn’t reach that point five years ago. Working this same case.” You deadpanned, your hand tightening on the compress. “I’d argue there’s nothing to sort out.”

“And if I say there is?”

“You know I never answered to you.”

His hands went on his hips. “Yeah, cause you’re Agent Know-It-All.”

“Finally, you’re catching on.” You quipped back, earning an eye roll from his part.

Like you mentioned earlier, the lack of whiskey fuelled bonding and laughing about sibling dynamics really takes a toll on a relationship built solely on how bad you wanna bang each other.

By God, Dean was hot when he was angry.

He was about to retort to your retaliation with equal snark when you heard your name being called from a distance. Your eyes locked on the guy, and a wide grin spread on your face. “Nicky?”

“Querida!” Sergeant Nick Santiago - and your cousin - approached you and gave you a tender hug (he was mindful of the bruise), laughing. “Oh, long time no see. And I love seeing that adorable face.” He pinched your chin affectionately. Nick was five years older than you, hence the smothering affection.

“Shuddup, you’re adorable.” You swatted his shoulder with a snort.

“No, me? I’m… ruggedly handsome.” Then he took your good shoulder. “Hey, I’m gonna need you to check on Aunt Lucy and Uncle Ernie. You know how it is, they’re insane if not handled and I think Aunt Lucy is getting into the tarot cards again.”

You huffed out a disgruntled breath, your nose scrunching up briefly in disgruntlement. Dean noticed, and stopped giving Nick a green-eyed-monster fuelled look to shoot you a genuine smile. “And last time those cards were used, Ernie was suspicious of everything.” You sighed, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll see if I can talk sense into them.”

“They always listen to you. Even if I’m the older one.”

“That’s cause I’m the favourite. But, seriously, I’ll have a look into it.”

Would you go to hell for this? Even worse, get fired?

Yeah, most likely.

Unprofessionalism only could reach an all time high when you found yourself alone in your bedroom, scissoring yourself open, one hand above your head and gripping the headboard, the other very obviously between your legs.

One foot flat on the mattress. The other leg stretched out on the bed, your sweats abandoned somewhere you didn’t bother to note.

Jaw slack, brow furrowed and eyes closed, vivid tapes of Dean’s mouth and fingers working you over playing on your closed eyelids. The tantalising, fabricated images having his name rolling off your tongue.

“I think you’re lookin’ gorgeous, princess.” He murmured, nose nuzzling your cheek as his finger trailed up your neck to gently cup your jaw, your back pressed firmly against his taut chest. Cupping your chin possessively while you didn’t lift your own finger to stop him, instead watched in the mirror while he drew you further into his dizzying arms. Interrupted only by the ring of Dean’s phone.

“Right there, Dean-” You cut yourself off with a moan, hips bucking against nothing, but letting your fingers brush your g-spot as they spread you open, “just like that.” Your hand released the headboard, your back arching and your planted foot allowing you to grind desperately against your own hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm. While that newly released hand fumbled for your bedside drawer.

Said drawer was clumsily opened, your hand delving in and closing around something that had you screaming ‘bingo’ in your head and pulling your fingers out, leaving you empty and whining for more despite you being in control.

You could practically hear Dean telling you to take those fingers into your mouth and suck ‘em clean, but you decided to wait for that effortlessly sexy moment.

Wait for the real thing.

Dean thought he had you pinned on the mat, your hands trapped above your head in one of his, both your chests heaving after a long sparring session. His eyes flickering down to yours. “How’s that for a newbie, hm, sweetheart?” You smirked, and decided to answer by quickly using your legs to flip the position. You ended up on top, straddling his hips, and his hands held yours with a breathless chuckle and a possessive grip.

You flicked a switch on your vibrating dildo, your thighs twitching at the sound of the humming until you held them apart with your hand that was occupied prior to that moment, starting to push the toy in inch by inch.

“Dean,” You moaned, then cursed some very Jesus-disapproved words as the vibrations straight invaded your every sense, sending you straight to cloud nine.

Unprofessional, sure, but you didn’t regret a damn thing.

Once the dildo was all the way in- damn, you’d never been that full. And you welcomed the familiar buzz that took control of your ever action and had you grinding forward, pushing the toy in and out and meeting the self-orchestrated thrusts, knowing internally Dean would do it ten times better.

If not an FBI agent, he’d be a musician. Because he’d play you like a fine-tuned virtuoso violin.

“We… can’t.” You could feel his breath against yours. Your hand in his hair while the pads of his fingers put pressure on your waist through your blouse. Soft growls at the end of his every retrained pant as he resisted throwing you down onto that table and giving in to his primal urges. Damn, you brought the caveman out in him. One hand reached up to cup your cheek firmly, biting his plump bottom lip that you wanted to bite and suck on until it was swollen. “But… if we take five minutes. Just to take the edge off.”

Your free hand found your clit, rubbing in calculated, well-learned circles, paired with pleas of ‘Dean, right there’ and ‘don’t stop’ leaving your mouth, wishing it was his cock in you and not a piece of silicone.

Even if it did the job for now.

You worked yourself over and over, making yourself come over and over, climax after climax crashing down on your stressed, sexually pent up body until you were lying limp on the mattress, having lost count of how many times you’d said his name.

Dean.

Ah, home sweet home.

“Niñita!” Uncle Ernie cackled in happiness upon seeing you at the door, Dean with you since he had been working the case with you and had agreed to accompany you to see your mom’s Uncle Ernie. He gave a hearty pat on the back, ushering you in. “Adelante, adelante.” His eyes locked on Dean. “Who’s this?”

“Dean Winchester, sir.” Dean introduced with a swallow, which had Ernie’s mouth grimacing slightly.

“You could do better, mi diamante.” He complained in his Spanish accent and gravelly, grating tones.

“¡Ernesto, detente!” Aunt Lucy chastised, sashaying into the hallway with her bright, tortoise coloured shawl over her shoulders. “Es un chico muy guapo. Podría comérmelo.” That last part had your eyebrow raising to your hairline, while Dean got the message from the way Lucy practically purred at him and looked over his physique.

Ernie and Lucy themselves were quite the match.

Lucy, or Lucía in Spain or Spanish/Latino/anything native to the language’s company was tall- not as tall as Dean - with grey hair obviously styled by a hairdryer and rollers. She had blue eyes that matched her peacock personality, flaunting everything and her eyes looking everywhere on the nearest attractive single man’s body. Sometimes she didn’t know if a man was single and didn’t care otherwise. Dean was her unfortunate target today.

Ernie, otherwise called Ernesto, was a short man (Think Danny DeVito short), with thinning white hairs that was more bare skin than white fluff. He had a black, faux-fur robe with hot dogs on and mid-thigh length neon yellow shorts that would probably send a breeze up there if the wind blew around his ankles. Which were bare and clad in flip flops. Under the robe, he wore a ribbed white tank top. A chocolate granola bar stain on his cheek, and a disgruntled grimace stretching his white goatee-surrounded mouth as he looked up at Dean.

You knew they were an odd combination, especially with Ernie’s scepticism with everything they wasn’t his family.

“Ay, dios mío.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, clearing your throat. “Tía abuela-”

“Ay, no, es solo la tía.” Lucía waved you off, then smirked something sultry at Dean. “I’m the ripe old age of fifty, you know.”

You scoffed, hands on your hips. “Tienes setenta y seis años!”

“Arruinas mi diversión. Estuve a punto de pasar una noche en la cama con él.” She gave Dean a very obvious once over. And it put unholy images in your head. God bless innocence.

“Uf, no.” You groaned, trying to rub the images out of your head with two fingers at your temple as you all made your way into the kitchen. “Just… that’s not why I’m here. Las cartas del tarot, tía abuela.”

Lucía bristled, Spanish tones clipped and borderline anything but dulcet. “What about them?”

“You’re going to pull another ‘neighbour will kill me with their lawnmower’.” You huffed, remembering the incident all too well.

Ernie had waddled in at his top speed (which was slower than your normal walking pace) with wide eyes, claiming that the neighbour with murder him with their mower since Lucía ‘predicted’ he’d die by a spinning blade.

“¡Silencio!” She hushed with a flap of her hands, neon-green nails obvious in the lighting of the kitchen. “There is nothing wrong with my readings. They saved Ernesto’s life, no?”

“Eres imposible.” You groaned, rubbing your nose. Dean’s eyes landing on the scar across the bridge of it and swallowing, folding his arms. He’d rather not involve himself in the family drama.

“Lo sé.” She retorted, raising a threaded eyebrow.

Ernie sighed, taking Lucía by the arm with a patronising expression. “Creo que deberíamos dejar en paz a la pobre niña, Lucía. It’s almost time for that face thing you do.”

“It’s a skincare routine, Ernesto.” Still, she allowed herself to be whisked away.

“Yes, yes, that. My point remains, querida.”

Once you and Dean were alone, you cleared your throat. “Sorry about that.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair with a hand on your hip. “Aunt Lucy’s a handful. She gets her hand on anyone she can.”

Dean was part speechless. On one hand, he got flirted with by a seventy-six year old woman (at least, that’s what the body language told him), and on another, he got to hear you speaking Spanish.

He wondered if you could talk dirty to him one day in Spanish. Wishful thinking.

“Nick’s your… cousin, then, right?” He clarified, trying to stop the stirring in his gut. Down, boy.

“Yep.” You nodded, sighing. “He’s my cousin. My mom’s sister, whose real name is Elánora in Spain talk. She just changed it to a more American name and gave me and Cassie the same. Rick - Dad - he’s Ricardo.”

“Rick?” Dean grinned. “I’d have thought his nickname would be Di-”

“You absolute child.” You groaned, walking off.

“What? You gotta admit, it’s not the most unlikely thing in the world.”

You couldn’t help but moan and let your head fall forward, pressing your forehead against the cold desk to counteract the heat building up inside you until it clouded your mind and no desk would help you anymore.

Your hips rolling back desperately, seeking the friction - the feeling - only he could give you.

“So needy.” Dean chuckled from behind you, your skirt hiked up to your waist and his fingers buried to the knuckle in your soaked pussy, scissoring and curling when he felt like it. “Had a stressful day at work, hm?”

“Mmh,” Was all you could hum out at a response, meeting his thrusts and feeling the tension and/or stress in your body release with every brush against your g-spot but the very core of your body like a nuclear reactor, warming up and building up until your eyes were rolling back.

“Yeah.” Yet another low rumble of a laugh, but a kiss against your clothed shoulder, hot breath fanning over your skin. “Let me take care o’ that, baby. Of you. M’gonna make you feel so good you can’t walk straight. Want that, sweetheart?”

You whined out a response, which earned you a hum and the clinking of a belt buckle clinking, which had you bracing yourself on the edge of the desk. Dean’s calloused hands reaching to take a firm hold of your hips, lining the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance-

“Hey. Wake up.” What felt so much like a warm breath on your shoulder turned out to be the concerned hand of Sam Winchester, which had you groaning and reaching to rub your face with your own. Your eyes heavy and clearly riddled from sleep that you sorely needed to catch up on, but looks like it caught up with you. “You ok?”

You tried to snap yourself out of it, inwardly cursing at the fact that it was a damn dream.

What you wouldn’t give to have the stress and the overall lack of satisfaction that your pussy was giving you hell about the much needed relief by Dean goddamn Winchester.

Wishful thinking.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You sighed, then checked the time on your desk clock with weary eyes.

11:38 PM.

“We just finished cracking the tapes in the IT department.” Sam said softly, looking down on you with worry as well as the majestic mane of hair he possessed. Wishful thinking again, wondering if your hair could fall that perfectly into place. “We could have a look at it, but you’re nowhere in the right mind to try and make heads or tails of them. I think you should go home, Special Agent.”

“That’s bullcrap.” You scoffed, but then your eyes dropped again, sleep trying to lure you but failing as you snapped yourself back awake. “Yeah, I could use a bed.”

“I’ll drive you.” Sam took out his keys, helping you out of your chair (paired with some frantic yet muffled conversation), strong arms then moving you out of the building, into the parking lot and into his car.

It even smelled like Dean. Mm, old leather. Cologne, and whiskey. Beer.

A hand buckled you in, a calloused palm smoothing back the strands that dared be unruly and fall in front of your face. You lost track of time, but beefy arms lifted you up and away, into the safety of a familiar-smelling living room and then into an unfamiliar bedroom.

It wasn’t yours, but your tired mind remembered chucking a glass of water at someone in this very house.

The warmth of a blanket cocooned your body, tucked to your chin as your head nestled in some pillows. Succour of sweet sleep calling your name as you caught a ‘Sleep well, sweetheart’ from somewhere that could be the door before all light was shut out entirely.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, in unfamiliar sheets that smelled like… old leather. Cologne. Whiskey, both cheap and expensive with notes of beer. On your stomach, one leg bent and you were still in your office attire.

Note that you usually wear trousers and a blazer to the office in DC. Yesterday was one of those days.

“Sammy told me you’d knocked out at the office.” A low chuckle - one that always made your pussy throb and ache - had you more awake than you would openly admit. Dean was leaning on the door, no shirt, just grey sweatpants.

Every contour of his post-workout toned chest showing to you and making your mouth go dry. You wanted to stain that chest with your lipstick.

Maybe you’d wear your most bold red for the occasion.

“Did you kidnap me?” You scoffed, sitting up fully clothed in the bed, the only article of clothing off being your shoes. Touché.

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “‘Course I kidnapped you. I’ve got nothin’ better to do, sweetheart. Nothing other than kidnap my colleague.” He stepped further into the room, his attire reminding you of your almost-kiss five years ago.

His lips inches from yours. Your hand in his hair. His beginning to massage the flesh of your waist. Hot breath fanning over each other’s lips, eyes locked on them too through fluttering eyelashes.

“Just five minutes, sweetheart. To take the edge off.”

You should’ve taken that five before Sam rang his damn phone.

Oh, God, get it goddamn together.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You rolled your eyes, which had him chuckling and shaking his head. Still shirtless. Which still made him the most irresistible man on the planet. He always was; who were you kidding?

Even through your irritation, you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Sammy didn’t think it’d be safe to be home alone, not after Abaddon could have somehow given our IDs to her buddies, the Knights of Hell.” He shrugged. “So I volunteered to bring you back here.”

“Have you slept?”

“A couple hours.”

“And here I am, knocking out until…” You checked the time, “9 the next morning. Ain’t fair, Winchester.”

“I took a knockout nap right after that whole Abaddon fight, hostage situation ordeal.” He laughed, grinning widely. “I’m good on that part. About a ten hour nap; it messed up my sleep schedule. At least, Sammy calls it a sleep schedule.” Then he closed the door and beckoned you over. “Show me your shoulder, c’mon.”

“Is this necessary?” You huffed, but you were unbuttoning your blouse anyway, shrugging off your suit jacket.

Just Dean’s luck that there was only a simple black sports bra there. If it was lace, he’d have you on that bed in milliseconds. “‘Course it is, don’t be a baby.”

“You’re a baby.” You scoffed as you turned around, letting him inspect the blue, part swollen skin. He drew air in his teeth as he looked at it, then hummed.

“I’ll ice that later.” He murmured, trailing his fingers delicately over the skin before pulling his hand back. But instead of letting you put your blouse back on, he stopped you and helped you put it on, but his fingers paused at the buttoning phase, not starting it. His fingers didn’t have it in him. Every brush of his fingers on your heated skin sent jolts through both of you every time he tried to grow a pair and do it for the sake of professionalism.

His lips were right there. You could feel them against yours if you wanted to. Or you could guide them to your neck.

You were pretty sure Dean had that idea when his arm hooked around your waist and tugged your body flush against his, your nose slotting perfectly against his. Your hands instinctively flying to his chest.

Dean’s breath hitched as he felt the contact on his bare skin, licking his lips and biting the bottom as he traced every detail of your face. Your stunning eyes, staring up at him through thick eyelashes, halfway on the journey to closing. The curve of your nose and the scar across the bridge that came with it. The shadow of your cheekbone, line of your jaw and your lips.

God, your lips.

Dean could see every dip and curve of your top and bottom lip from that angle, the slight pout before they parted, showing him a sliver of tongue that made him wish it would lave at his chest. Your lips were a temptation that had his arm wrapping tighter around your waist and his hand resting over your exposed navel.

So close to the waistband of your trousers.

He couldn’t stop focusing on your lips, however boring it may seem to recite it over and over. They were full, but not too plump- in a way that had him wanting to kiss them until they were swollen and his. Wanted them to look pretty and bear his mark. He’d do that to your neck too… if he could. Cover every freckle he could see.

You weren’t faring much better. You could see every freckle lining his face and the pout of his pink lips as he contemplated what to do next. Whether to ravish you - finish what you both started - or to leave you hanging for the sake of professionalism. You saw the sharp contour of his cheekbone and jawline, and the smooth skin of his chest under your hands pressed further into the touch with a barely held sigh, heartbeat pounding against your fingertips.

Fast. Desperate. Wanting.

Your attention diverted from him to glance down at his abs - damn, those abs - and his v-line disappearing into the low-hanging fabric of his grey sweatpants that he wore in this exact same situation five years ago.

You couldn’t think of anything more cliche but there was nothing more hot.

You felt his fingers wrap around and grasp your chin, moving your gaze back up to lock with his and god, were you transfixed. Your breath caught before it left your mouth. Breaking the pattern you’d worked so hard to maintain. It’d break you and then you’d let him lay you down and wreck you.

“Keep those eyes on me, princess.” He murmured, still gently holding your chin and thumbing your bottom lip. Keeping his eyes on you as well. “Don’t take ‘em off.” You wanted to protest. You’d be putting your job in jeopardy if you carried on like this any longer.

But it felt so damn good.

The push, the pull, the heat, the want, wanting what you could so obviously have because he wanted you too. It was all so intoxicating you got lost in it. In him.

Dean Winchester would send you to hell. Even worse, get you fired. But you’d thank him for it.

NEXT UP:

“Being a Knight of Hell makes you bitter.” He swept a thumb over his bottom lip, scoffing and shaking his head slowly. “You do horrible things. To innocent people, too. Most of us enjoyed it. I didn’t. That’s why I ran.”

You rubbed your cheek, sharing a look with Sam, who looked both incredibly concerned and curious. Not only was this syndicate dangerous, they took inspiration off Bible lore, which was how they contracted their code names.

“And your code name was Cain?” You asked, gesturing to him with a raise of your eyebrow. “As in… Cain and Abel? And your real name is William Abernathy?”

“Abel was my brother’s supposed ‘codename’.” William, previously ‘Cain’, deadpanned, sipping some bourbon with a blank expression. “Gave it after his death. Thought it was funny. They thought the same for my beautiful Collette too.”

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@k-slla @muhahaha303 @suckitands33

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

To be added to any character’s taglist of mine, find my form on my master list.

Like what I’ve written? Let me know!

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This tends to make the author more invested in writing their own series.

If they think ‘hey, people actually like what I’ve written and are writing small paragraphs/quoting my story and writing lengthy paragraphs on how they feel’ then they’re more likely to put more fics and chapters out for you.

I’d really appreciate it if y’all do that and the same goes for any other writer on here. Reblogs are worth a lot more than likes on here!

[rafedaddy01]

a plot where the reader is dating rafe and they are both psychotic😋

Two Crazy’s Make A Right

A/N: this is very dark and I’m sorry if it’s disturbing for some of you but once I started writing the ideas just kept flowing. I hope this is psychotic enough for you.

You and Rafe were an inseparable couple. No matter where you were you were always together, no one ever saw you apart. And you were the perfect couple out in public. Holding hands, kissing, hugging, going on romantic dates. But behind closed doors you had dark secrets.

“Whose tonight’s victim?” Rafe asked as he hugged your waist and stared out into the crowd of the restaurant. You were out on one of your weekly dates, on the other side of town where nobody knew you. “That blonde looks pretty good” you nodded towards the bar where a tall blonde sat in a black dress, she looked like she had just been stood up which made her the perfect person for tonight’s activity. “As you wish” Rafe pressed a kiss to your temple and fixed his tie as he walked over to her. He took the empty seat next to her and they started talking. An hour into the night everything was going according to plan.

You sat at a booth not to far away, but discreet, and watched your boyfriend flirt with the poor women before he looked at you and winked. The women stood and Rafe followed with a hand on the small of her back. He led the two of them out of the restaurant and into the car where you would already be waiting. You sat in the back seat twirling the tip of the sharp knife on your fingertip and a trickle of blood dripped down your finger which you sucked like a lollipop, relinquishing in the coppery taste. As Rafe and the woman approached you ducked behind the passenger seat and waited for them to get in the car. Rafe opened the door for her and she got in as he walked around to the drivers side.

Rafe started the car and that was your que. you plunged forward and pressed the knife into the women’s throat. Not enough pressure to cut her, yet, but enough to keep her still. “Hello beautiful” you sing-songed as she tried wiggling free, but that only made you press harder and nick her skin. The red crimson dripped down her cleavage and Rafe collected it on his finger before bringing it to your mouth. You sucked on the digit and moaned

“Mmm, this one’s sweet” you said in a crazy voice as Rafe leaned in and kissed you, licking some remaining blood off your lower lip, “very” he said in agreement. “P-please. L-let me go, I swear I won’t say a word” the blonde stuttered as tears welled in her eyes. You and Rafe both laughed at her pleas. “Sweetheart, you know we can’t do that” Rafe said in an oddly soothing voice as he rubbed her cheek.

The blonde was sobbing at this point as you started slowly slicing the skin on her neck. Blood spurted from her throat and she gagged on her own blood as Rafe watched with amusement in his eyes. Soon after the blonde laid dead in the passenger seat and you and Rafe were in the back. “Your so fucking sexy when your taking a life, baby” he said as he kissed you hard. You moaned against his lips as he deepened the kiss. He hiked up your dress and tore your tights as his lips moved to your neck, sucking hickeys. Your head dipped back to give him more room.

“Next time I wanna do the killing, deal?” Rafe asked as his fingers found your clit and rubbed circles. “Yes!” You said in a moan. “Good girl” he continued his attack on your neck while his free hand unbuckled his dress pants and pulled his hard erection out. With one swift motion he plunged inside of you and you both moaned in unison. “Fuck, rafe” you arched your back as much as you could and he began thrusting faster. His cock moved at a quick pace inside of you, all the ridges and veins hitting the right spots and making you see stars.

“Shit, baby. What did I ever do to deserve someone like you. Your just as crazy as me and I love it” he slammed into you and brought the both of you to your releases. He panted breathlessly over you as the two of you came down from your orgasms. “I love you” he said leaning down to kiss you. “I love you” you said before pulling his bottom lip and biting it until a drop of blood dripped out, which of course, you licked clean. “Enough lovey dovey.”

You sat up to get yourself re-dressed. “We need to take care of our friend over here” you reminded Rafe. You both got dressed and drove deep into the woods where you followed the same routine every time. Burning the body and disposing of the ashes into the lake. As the two of you stood on the sand, Rafe hugging you from behind, you looked like that perfect couple that goes on perfect dates and holds hands in public. Anyone who drove by would just see a normal couple on a romantic date by the beach, but in reality there was a darker truth to that.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing

[cultofdixon]

It is no one’s fault for unexpected tragedies

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Accidents happen every day. That hasn’t changed because of the end of the world…so why are you trying to blame yourself, Dixon? • ANGST/SFW • TW: Major Injuries / Blood Loss / Anxiety Attacks / Nightmares

Requested by: Anon

“You’re going on that run tomorrow right?” Daryl asks his partner who was busy packing for said run, so it was stating the obvious in hopes that Y/N would invite him. But she knows his games.

“Yes, and I’ll be at the Kingdom by nightfall. I’ll manage without you” Y/N smiles leaning into her man when he brings himself close bringing his arms around her. “Think you’ll manage without me?”

“Nah. I’ll always need yea” Daryl felt the twitch of a smile grace his features when Y/N turned around to face him and pressed her lips to his cheek.

As the next morning follows, Daryl leans against the car Y/N will be taking as she puts her bag in the trunk along with the trading good for the Kingdom.

“Don’t cause too much trouble when I’m gone, Dixon”

“You try not to cause any trouble, Dixon” He smiles warmly bringing her into his embrace for a moment holding her and occasionally planting kisses on her temple.

“You’re trying to butter me up to invite you or to distract me long enough to stay”

“Is it working?” He hums bringing his lips to hers as she happily returns the soft gentle kiss before gently pushing herself off of him. “You wound me, sunshine”

“You have work to do as well, love. Better go get it done.” Y/N smiles pulling him off the car before getting into the driver Daryl instantly brought himself to the window stealing one more kiss before getting roped into anything and everything Rick asks of him.

It’s been a couple of hours and Daryl sat on the porch of his home holding the radio in his hand giving it another second before calling in to any open line hoping someone from the Kingdom to answer. Just his luck that Carol was the first to chime back.

“Hey?”

“It’s Daryl”

“Ha, no shit. Did you need something, Daryl?”

“I was uh wondering…if Y/N made it there and if I could talk to her” Daryl frowns hoping for a yes from the other side as he never liked being apart from his partner.

“She’s currently sleeping. Went hunting on her drive over here.”

“Seriously? She didn’t take her hunting rifle”

“You know Y/N. She’s a creative person, she got creative and brought a buck over. You are uh missing out if I do say so”

“Well I can always come—-“

“She’s sleeping! Are you seriously going to come here and disturb her?”

Daryl didn’t like where this conversation was going and grew a bit of a suspicion. “Carol. I was talkin’ to try the buck. I ain’t gonna interrupt her sleep…but a little hunting just for one piece of game shouldn’t have worn her out”

“Well, she did also stop at a few cars along the way to siphon for gas. Yknow, what we are supposed to do while Maggie devises a plan for an alternative fuel source that isn’t solar”

Carol is a smart woman and knows how to knock the archer off her “scent”. “Seriously Daryl. Just come over tomorrow”

“Y/N is supposed to come home tomorrow”

“Well, that’s too bad. Guess she has to stay here so that the two of you go home together. Besides, you were already planning to come for breakfast if Rick didn’t ask you to take the morning watch” Carol took a swing with her guessing and the silence from the other end only confirmed it. The grumble that got picked up also did. “We shall see you tomorrow”

“Tell Y/N I said goodnight.” Pause. “And I love her” Then the line finally turns off.

Carol stood in the hallway to the housing section of the Kingdom that included the mess hall and their designated rooms for their infirmary when she took the call from her best friend. Her best friend could sniff out lies…but didn’t this time.

“Hey,” Carol quickly turned to Siddiq, who did weekly visits to other communities, giving her a concerned look. “She’s awake”

“Okay…Can I be alone with her?”

“Yeah, I’ll be getting her water. Were you talking to Daryl? Did you tell him yet?”

“No…Should I have?”

“If she was dying, yeah. But it’s still…a lot. Maybe in the morning tell him?” Siddiq questioned while passing his friend he didn’t overhear the conversation because Carol knew for a fact Daryl would be coming in the morning.

Whether Y/N had a near death experience or not.

When Carol entered the room to find her friend lay in bed. She looked exhausted, broken in physical and mental places, but brought her attention to the soft steps her friend gave and shown her a smile on her face before it faded when looking at her injuries.

“Can’t believe I almost died over a deer…”

“You did bring us back a plentiful feast from the buck” Carol tried to joke with her to lighten the mood but the way Y/N went from exhausted to emotionless to overwhelmed in the matter of seconds, it wasn’t the time. “Hey hey…I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried to make light on very recent matters…I’m just. So thankful you’re still alive”

“I could’ve died…could’ve been worse than broken bones and several deep wounds. I’ve…I’ve gotten so used to this life and how grateful I am for the now…how the fuck did those stupid fucking deer not see me?” Y/N sobbed no matter how painful her broken ribs felt when trying to catch a deep breath to calm her, or the throbbing pain from her broken wrist and dislocated ankle. More had happened and more could’ve happened.

Throughout the night, Ezekiel came in to check on Carol who wasn’t going to leave her friend’s side and helped in any way that he could for both his partner and Y/N. Eventually they decided to use the oxygen tank they found to keep some flow steady for Y/N given every chance she tried to sleep she would trigger an anxiety attack making it difficult to breathe and her ribs were already doing a number on her.

The morning came and Daryl had radio’d in before coming so Carol could prepare entirely for what she was going to tell him. But she also prepared for in the moment it was going to fly out the window.

Daryl came through the gates of the Kingdom noticing Ezekiel first as he waves at him giving him a waiting gesture so that he could fetch Carol. But the archer grew curious about the tense atmosphere when he parked his bike, not finding the vehicle Y/N had came in.

“Hey man! You here for breakfast with Carol?” Jerry approaches Daryl as he gave the man a confused look. “Hey? What’s up?”

“Y/N’s car ain’t around. Did she leave?”

“Uh no. She uhm. Got a flat so one of our people is taking a look at it. She’s still…somewhere!” Jerry laughs with a shrug as he quickly takes his leave into the direction of where Y/N really is, knowing Carol is there. But he kept glancing behind him to make sure Daryl wasn’t following.

He wasn’t. But he is investigating further.

But it meant him being a bit nosey in his scary silent way.

A few Kingdom people were tending to a lot of repairs regarding its community and Daryl thought those few would be the best to ask around about any vehicle maintenance but the answers revolved around…

Had to fill one up with gas

The tire repair would’ve been tricky if we didn’t have to spare

Did you know duct tape is a good tool to keep a bumper on?

Nothing really of use until Daryl found a man going through the engine of a familiar model to the car his partner took but he honestly can’t entirely recall what the car was since he was more focused on Y/N.

“Need a hand?” Daryl decided to come off the helpful route to see if he gets more out of the guy.

“Uh” This guy gave the archer a confused look before moving aside giving him access to look for himself.

“There’s nothing wrong with it” Now Daryl was even more confused while looking at the engine before reaching in and taking out a piece of an antler. “Someone hit a buck?”

“More like…a buck and a half. I was just told to get rid of the evidence before trying to repair the car cosmetically” He groans gesturing for Daryl to step back to close the hood as they watch it bounce up. “Yeah this’ll take a while”

“What happened to the person driving it?”

“Oh you should’ve been there. She came in with the buck through the windshield and the deer barely hanging onto the hood. It was fucking awful. I haven’t heard about her condition yet, that Siddiq fella that makes his rounds every few weeks? If he wasn’t here when she came in, she probably would’ve died to her injuries”

Daryl watches the man round the car to check the back of it, leaving him to check the drivers seat and once he opened the door he brings himself to sit so he could reach the glove box finding Y/N’s journal. She always brings that on her drives. His anxiety went from steady to overwhelming in the matter of seconds as he left the vehicle knowing exactly where to go next.

Carol stood in the hallway after being informed that Daryl was on the premises and it will only take him a matter of time before he barged into the building.

“How bad is it?!”

“Daryl—-“ Carol stopped him in his tracks as he instantly fought against her.

“NO! If she’s dead and yea didn’t tell me I’m gonna—-“

“She’s not dead, Daryl!” She raised her voice loud enough for her words to pass his rushing thoughts as he relaxed from trying to toss his friend over to get to Y/N. “She’s in a lot of pain, even with the meds we gave her. You need to be careful going in there”

“H-…Sh…She’s fine?”

“Yes. She’s going to be fine. You need to get that look off your face” The archer instantly scoffed as Carol gripped his shoulders. “She’ll read your expression in an instant Daryl. You know she will. Don’t even try and make this your fault when it’s not. It’s not hers either. Freak accidents happen”

“I know that…w-what makes yea think…” Daryl frowns avoiding her eyes contact knowing damn well she’s giving him a concerned but obvious expression. He tries to make everything his fault when most incidents aren’t.

They all know this.

The door creaked open startling Y/N a bit as she’s been in and out of that exhaustion fog caused by pain and medication. She tried her best to look at what made the noise but when she saw Daryl step in she felt her heart race and the tears threaten to spill.

“H-Hey” She rasped out as Daryl brought himself to sit carefully on the side of her bed taking note of her injuries resulting in his pulling it all together look to one of fear and sadness as he tried to turn his face away but she used her good hand to grab onto his forearm forcing him to look at the connection before connecting their eyes. “Don’t…”

“…I’m tryin’ not to…”

“This…ugh” Y/N tried to stop the tears. “Was so f-fucking freak. It’s no one’s fault but the goddamn buck”

Daryl couldn’t help the short lived chuckle to escape him as he held onto her arm keeping close as he could to her.

“It did a number on your car. Yea lucky I saved your journal”

“Okay it wasn’t a fucking monster deer that tore the car a new one. It was multiple and no where near the glove compartment” Y/N laughs lightly pulling her hand away only to hold her ribs when she laughed. “I’m so not including this in that book”

“I don’t know…it’d be a page turner” He decided to keep lighthearted on the matter for the time being.

Even if the nights they’ve spent there, Daryl found himself awake by her side in case she needed anything. Least he wasn’t bullying himself as he sat awake. He was just. There for her.

[lackadaisically-m]

This is Not a hate post towards Carlos Sainz. I don't really like him but still think he's a good driver - that is, however, not always enough.

For anyone genuinely wondering what reasons RBR could possibly have to sign Checo instead of Carlos, here's a few that have nothing to do with driving ability, but are no less important to a team:

1. The car - Checo is already used to the RBs, which, much like the SF, and almost any other car on the grid I'd imagine, are tailored towards the preferences of the no.1 driver of the team, in this case - Max. Max and Carlos, to put it simply, have very different preferences for their setup so Carlos would realistically have a really tough time in the car and I don't think he'd adapt quick and efficient enough to not cost the team significant points. Checo is also already very familiar with the current RB environment so he doesn't need a warmup period, he's ready to go.

2. Sponsors and marketability - Checo has a huge latin fanbase. He's very beloved outside your typical European - centered fanbase circles. He brings in insane revenue from RB marketing in Latin America. That is, of course, very valuable to a team. Carlos, unfortunately, doesn't have too many sponsors of his own and isn't nearly as marketable. I know he seems more popular because of european fans, but trust me, people go insane for Checo.

3. Professional relationship between drivers - RBR needed a clear no.2 driver for that empty seat. Checo is the perfect pick because he knows he's going to be second to Max and that Max will be getting preferential treatment. He knows his role is to support Max and try to bring in as many points as possible for the team. He wouldn't try to fight Max for position, thus risking leaving space for other teams to attack. He has shown on multiple occasions, that he Can and Will defend against other teams. Carlos didn't seem to get the memo at Ferrari, he probably wouldn't have gotten it at RBR either. Carlos clearly isn't satisfied being a no.2 driver in a team, which is unfortunate, because that's all that's left in the top teams. They wouldn't want a driver who's willing to risk track position and potentially lose points for the team while trying to pass their own teammate.

4. Personal relationship between drivers - Now this is also important, because while drivers are professionals and can be collegial while also disliking each other, the team works best if they don't have to force interaction and amicability. It has been mentioned on multiple occasions that during their joint Toro Rosso days, Max and Carlos didn't exactly get on that well. You could argue that they have grown and changed a lot since then, yes, but if the team already has a driver available that they know for sure gets along with Max, why would they go for uncertainty?

There's definitely more reasons for this decision, that we, as the public, are not aware of. I just saw so many people disappointed and/or angry at the renewal, saying Carlos is more deserving yada yada. You aren't entitled to a seat just because you're good as an individual driver. And for the record, Checo isn't as bad as most people are making him out to be. He's a solid driver, experienced and very adaptable too. Put some respect on his name.

[addicted-to-dc]

If your still taking requests can you write an platonic Bruce and Damian x Female reader.

Summary: Reader is working at a coffee shop one day,until bruce takes his son Damian out for coffee and meet the reader that was taking their order. They start acting strange when meeting her because she looks like Bruce's late wife Talia(Damian mother). They end up stalking and kidnapping her.

Ooooo I love thissss. I'm inspireedddddd. Okay, imagine this:

You switched shifts with your work bestie. It was well worth the sacrifice, especially since it's an oddly dull day. Rain was no stranger to Gotham, but this storm is something else.

The door's blown open multiple times, the entire front nearly flooding in an instant until you shoved it shut. At least you have something to do now. Your mind wanders to what the hell you're having for dinner tonight. Should you steal a muffin before leaving and catch up on the show you're watching? Maybe a movie would be better, less chance of binging multiple seasons throughout the night-

DING

Turning around, you move to close the door, but you're shocked to see a large person (?) enter the store. The father is completely soaked, black hair flat against his head despite the hat he's wearing. Then he pulls his coat open, revealing a completely dry boy.

Your heart melts instantly. That's so adorable.

"Welcome in! Glad to see you survived the storm," you joke, hoping to lighten the mood. The poor man looked like he needed it.

"Barely," he smiles, placing his coat on the rack. "London fog for me, with milk, and he'll have-"

"I will have the same, but with oat milk. Whip cream on the side... extra whip cream," his son interjects. His father raises a brow. "Please and thank you."

"You are very welcome," you smile, crinkling your eyes so they can see it behind the face mask. You lean forward, pointing to the table in the corner. "That's the warmest spot in the front. I'll bring out your drinks soon."

"I didn't-"

"On the house, now go warm up," you say, shooing them both off. "You'll get sick."

The boy goes to roll his eyes, but they catch yours. There's a flash of recognition in his green orbs, a hint of sadness dripping into it before he recovers. He nods dutifully and sits in the corner.

His father on the other hand stays put. He places a twenty in the tip jar, and you can only huff out a laugh.

"Defeats the whole purpose of 'on the house' but I won't stop you."

He chuckles, "Consider it a thank you. Our driver's stuck in traffic and you're the only one open."

"I'm surprised you can see the open sign at all out there. I haven't seen a storm like this since the defrost from that Freeze attack a few years back."

"I remember that one, pretty sure we had to renovate the sewage system."

"It's a good one. We haven't had a bad flood since."

There's a lull in the conversation. You look to your right. His son's staring at you from afar, that same haunting look in his eyes. Your heartstrings tug at that. What does he see that makes you familiar?

"Your little man over there is looking lonely. I'll get these drinks started."

"I'll leave you to it."

He steps away, his stormy blue eyes lingering on you for a bit too long. He joins his son at the table, their conversation hushed. Not like you can hear it anyway with the rain.

The London Fogs... check, but your mask got drenched when water splashed all over you. That was your last one, too. It's fine, not like you'd be interacting with a lot of people today anyways.

Now, this last part is really going to make or break this kid's day. Grabbing a small dish, you take out the whip cream and create a HUGE swirl of it. He's going to love it.

Minding the still wet floor, you place their tea cups on the table. "Here you are, and last, but not least, your extra whip cream. Hope you like it."

They remain in the shop for the rest of your shift, waiting out the storm until you have to close. Walking back to their table, you collect their dirty dishes. "I'm closing early. You still have some time, but I hope your driver arrives soon."

You smile at the boy, but as soon as your eyes meet the man's you finally recognize him... Bruce Wayne? Man, the storm did a number on him if it rendered him unrecognizable.

He shakes his head. "Multiple accidents, everyone's stuck until the rain clears. How're you planning on getting home? I hope you're not driving."

"No, no, I don't think I can be trusted to drive in this city," you joke, taking a step back. "It's only a little walk."

"More like a swim today," the little one snarks, wrenching a snort out of you.

"Good thing I'm here 'til close."

The air shifts at that. You're not sure why, but the warmth from the vents disappearing tells you everything right before the lights go out.

"Great," you sigh, blindly placing the dishes back onto the table. "Give me a moment, let me check-"

You feel a sharp pain in your neck, stumbling into the next table over as the rain becomes deafening. All it takes is a simple shove and your balance is gone, the floor raising to hit you in the face. Or was it you falling into it?

"She looks just like her."

"Yes, Damian, she really does."

BOOM and I thought I couldn't write anymore. Couldn't really fit the stalking in here, but c'monnnn use your imagination. Bruce and Damian probably saw this as a chance to finally get you.

[redredredisdead]

HC's for Abigail Roberts x Reader x John Marston

Most of these were written with a modern AU in mind but most could be read with a most canonical universe.

And...ughhh I just love these two, they're whole dynamic is just *Chefs kiss*

These are all SFW. It truly is just pure fluff down there.

Abigail is not a snuggler

John however will hug and squeeze you half to death if you snuggle with him.

You two could be a giant pile of limbs while Abigail's in her own little section of the bed all curled up.

John is a blanket hog. Abigail will constantly grumble about waking up with no blankets. 

Abigail is not a morning person but yet she likes to get up early and make John and you coffee. If you're also a morning person Abigail will find out what time you wake up and get up earlier than you.

John on the other hand would have fifteen alarms none of which wake him up. He has to be shaken to wake up. 

Abigail will constantly ask for help in the kitchen from you.

She's too afraid to take requests on what to make for dinner. She doesn't want to mess up and disappoint you two.

If you are a worse cook than her just having you there for emotional support will help.

John, if he's free, will drive you and/or Abigail anywhere. It's not that he thinks you're a bad driver (even if you are) he just wants to see you get there safely. 

I can't explain this one but John definitely wants to move to Australia

John likes to rub his beard/stubble onto ANY skin that is exposed, he loves your reactions.

He would do the same to Abigail but he learned the hard way she does not appreciate that. 

John constantly misplaces things. He'll ask you if you or Abigail have seen his keys or something and they'd be in his hand.

He would almost definitely play it off like “Yeah…I knew that”

When he's leaving the house he'll give Abi and you each a quick peck before leaving.

Abigail thrives off of eye contact. If she's talking to you and your eyes are on a book, phone, etc. she will grab your chin and make you look at her or will say your name over and over depending on how annoying she wants to be.

John sneezes like a freight train. Every time he sneezes in Abigail's presence she will look at you with the most shocked expression.

John loves to hold you both while you're sitting on the couch together. Loves to just wrap his arms around the two of you.

Abigail likes to lean against you or vice versa. 

She loves running her hands through your hair. 

One way to get her all flustered is to nuzzle your head or whole body into her.

Or just small acts of service. Brushing her hair, getting things ready for the day, helping with chores. It all just makes her feel so appreciated.

John is definitely a physical touch kind of guy. No words need to be said. Him just wrapping his arm around you or rubbing your shoulders is him saying he loves you.

He loves it if you initiate as well

John likes to go out and drink but Abigail is an angry drunk to everyone but you and John. John has to drink at home. 

You and John had to hold her back one time from going and attacking some dude for “looking at her funny.” 

Abigail definitely plans all birthdays, anniversaries, dates, etc. well in advance. 

If you bring flowers or chocolate for Abigail she will be extra sweet to you that day. Grabbing your hand, kissing your cheek, hugging you from behind 

If you get John something he will immediately go and get something for you. He'll be like “thank you…excuse me” then run to the store and pick up your favorite drink or something.

John uses coupons. I feel like he's one of the couponers who will buy all his items for the next week or so and only have to pay like two dollars. 

John is DEATHLY in love with you and Abigail and he will tell you two constantly about how much he loves you guys.

John is an 80’s music lover. He probably has like 50 band Tees

He's always 100% ready for someone to come up to him and ask “You're a fan? Name three songs”

He also likes Olivia Rodrigo but he will never admit that but you see the way he had to stop himself from singing to her songs

If you have a tough day Abigail will be there with you for as long as you need. She will stay up till 3 am if you need to vent. 

If either John or Abi see that you hurt yourself they will be all over you asking if you're okay even if it's a paper cut. 

If it's pretty bad John will try and kiss it better but if Abigail sees him doing that and it's not cleaned and bandaged then she will slap him in the back of the head and tell him to wait and that it's unsanitary. 

John is the least organized man. He gets pulled over and needs to find his registration? He is digging through his glove box pulling out the most random things. 

Abigail on the other hand? She is a woman who likes organization. She constantly gets at John and you if something is unorganized/messy. She will ask you and John to clean it up.

John is a romantic when he wants to be. Loves kissing your knuckles. 

Abigail is a very Do-it-yourself kind of woman. A button pops off of you or John's shirt? Boom mended. A door hinge squeaky? Boom, she bought WD-40.

If there's something she doesn't know how to fix she makes you or John figure it out. She will help of course. She definitely hates calling professionals 

John and you have to team up during board games if you have ANY chance of beating Abigail.

John is a Car enthusiast 

If something is wrong with your car he will fix it immediately.

If he sees someone on the side of the road he will pull over and ask if they need help with their car.

Just think about it, Abigail is a Black cherry lover. Loves the scent, loves the taste, loves the actual cherry.

John is the kind of guy who LOVES spicy food but also can't handle spice at all. Very low spice tolerance on this man. 

It's a ritual to watch TV before bed with them. You and John will whine and pout at Abigail until she finally comes to snuggle with you two. She will act all grumpy but you two know that she secretly loves it

[not-goldy]

I just want to be honest and speak without being emotional and biased towards bts , like yg have the opportunity to go to his home everyday and I'm sure he can work on his music from home and do the military duty as office job while the other boys especially jm jk and jin really being living in nowhere they can't even breath freely they working their ass off to go through that fouking serving shit , and still he managed to ruin it for himself he could have a 100 drivers and they could drive him home with the most expensive cars or go with taxi but he himself make the decision the media maybe take it to far but this what media do all over the world , army love to always make it like kmedia do it just for bts but this is what they do for everyone like I remember not so long they make a big deal of gdragon being drunk even though his tests was clean and they bring him to court and in the end he was really clean , yg going to the police station is not the big deal that army claims , he did wrong while he is serving and they question his behaviour and thats it , they should keep it Low and doesn't give it to much attention instead of cutting k media including jin up coming shows !!!! Like how they work !! jin working on this shows since the day he discharged and now army want to sacrifices His work for another member's bad decision while hyping western media that just last month have being shady towards jm and they have always been shady towards bts , dropping jm music and using his funds for useless movement , I just want army for once to forget their own prideful mindset and just shut up

I don't think you're saying this because you hate Yoongi. If you do my BS detector isn't picking it up.

And I understand your point of view and where you're coming from.

I just want to say Yoongi isn't doing his service this way because he is privileged. He was injured had surgery and couldn't go through that rigorous harsh system the others are going through.

Jin is brave and strong for conquering that and moving on with his life. Now the government has nothing on him.

The others will be free eventually too.

I think Yoongi should have been exempted all together. Jimin has chronic back pains and BTS as a group deserved an exemption.

Personally I think the laws in Korea are too strict and paternalistic but that's besides the point.

As for Army, I think they are doing what any Fandom would do- support and attack and defend. How big this thing gets, how much people speak against it, how much media attention and international attention it gets can either help or hurt his situation.

If they aren't being fair to him it shall be met with such worldwide condemnation it will push foreskin off dicks. That's the power of Army and the beauty of having amassed such following.

It would be strange if the Fandom went silent and watched this whole thing unfold don't you think??

People are just worried about him that's all. I'm actually worried too cos I feel this whole hing has been blown out of proportion. Any person in that situation perhaps would have been slapped with a warning but like you said because I a kpop idol and a member of BTS people wanna scapegoat him.

People want to humiliate BTS so bad they want humble them and some higher ups want a leash around their neck and will go after them for anything.

And they are falling out of favor with the sky man thems so if I feel they should all be careful how they move.

I know he screwed up, didn't think this whole situation will escalate but I also feel he is prepared to face the law. Actually, you know what? I'm gonna go ahead and research the law on this to understand the situation much better cause I'm hating this every second I write about it.

I think falling off a scooter in front of his own apartment when he wasn't even driving on the road and putting his life and the other's life at risk- is crazy how far this whole thing has gotten. Crazy

Just hope he is doing alright and is prepared mentally for all of this cos from his pov it would seem like everything he has spent his entire career to build is coming crashing i hate it here

[witchywitchy19]

Normally I dont get involved with such things when fans of Drivers go toxic against other drivers.

I come onto the Lewis Hamilton tag because it brings a calmness into my life seeing my favourite driver doing something like co produce a film about the first american women motorbike driver and his fashion looks.

However today on my break I was greeted with this.

I know in TeamLH, we do have some toxic people and the stuff they say is not acceptable on any level however all drivers have a level of fans like this for example Max fans in 2021 with their death threat to Lewis or Alonso fans with the black face and crymilton posters during the mclaren years.

Yes defend your favourite driver if you must, call out those toxic fans but...

Do Not come for Lewis with the same amount of hate your trying to defend George from.

To say Lewis is egging his fans to be toxic and say all these horrible things about george, that he wants to see this chaos reign.

To say he is encouraging these fans to attack George. That his personality is so fake.

Yes Lewis at one point had not been a good team mate but look back on the fucking grid on when he was a little shit on the track. Sebastian Vettel had his dark era when he didn't give a fuck, Fernando Alonso with his screw everyone era with 'I knew he would break, hes got a wife and children at home'. Michael Schumacher was a terror at one point. Nico Rosberg using dirty tactics and everything he knew about Lewis. The older grid did not compete in karting with one another except for a few, they were all cut throat with one another. They were brutal

But they enjoyed that.

This grid, a lot of them grew up with each other so they are a lot softer with one another.

Lewis and Nico both let a championship come between them. They were both at fault for it all not just Lewis.

Valterri's mental health was down to the team and how they led the drivers, Lewis may have not been aware of it. So to say Lewis actively contributed to it, like he knew he was doing it. Fuck off. Lewis was coming off a year were his childhood friendship was gone, Nico retiring, pushing all his focus into the championship and going up against Sebastian. There were times Lewis helped Valterri.

To say he is trying to break George. Lewis has sent praises to George from time to time. 'Its incredible, hes done an amazing job today, he had great pace, hes been so solid these first three races and hes working and really grafting away, hes doing an amazing job'

And this bullshit of he doesnt do well with being second or he only knows how to drive in first. This is complete shit.

For Lewis its racing, it doesnt matter where he comes, he wants to race. Hell he even enjoyed the hell driving from Kevin back awhile ago.

So if your gonna defend your driver then go ahead but do not come for a driver with the same level of hate worded differntly as the people your trying to defend your driver from.