#i dunno i’m gonna think more about it but this might be the way to go

[tvrningout]

what if i move all my k.ny and canon muses to a sideblog…

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

the handyman

pairing: neighbor! joel miller x f! reader

cws/tags: pure smut, DADDY KINK, oral m & f receiving, p in v (unprotected), an abundance of pet names, reader is under 21 but over 18 (for the plot), reader is kinda stupid, big dick joel, not beta read

summary: pwp honestly. basically a porn plot? idk joel comes over to reader's grandma's house to fix the smoke detector (which she broke) and he teaches her how to be a good girl.

a/n: don't ask why reader lives with her grandma, originally this was going to be longer and it was going to be more relevant

join my taglist!

wc: 2k

You open the front door to and see an unfamiliar man standing at your doorstep – 40 something, jeans and a t-shirt, progressively more handsome the longer you look at him. You size him up, trying to decide what his intentions are.

“Whatever it is you’re selling – I don’t wanna buy it," you say.

He opens his mouth, but you continue before he can say anything. “I don’t even live here anyway, and before you ask she’s not home, so you can’t talk to her.”

“I ain’t here to sell you shit.”

“Well, I don’t wanna sign anything either.”

“Good. ‘Cause I don’t want you to.”

“Then why are you here? I don’t have a lot of time before One Tree Hill comes back on, so make it quick.”

“I’m Joel. I live down the street. I’m here to fix your smoke detector.”

“Oh, in that case, come on in,” you say, changing your demeanor entirely as you realize that you really need to get in this man’s good graces.

“So, you’re ‘handyman’ grandma’s been talking about?” you ask, as you lead him to the kitchen.

“She’s been talking about me?”

“Yeah. She talks about you like you’re her boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

“I dunno. I wasn’t really listening. I thought it might just be some dementia-induced delusion.”

“Well, she’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Good things?”

“Better than the things she says about all of your other family members.”

“You know what they say, ‘if you don’t want people to talk badly about you, then you shouldn’t ruin Christmas.’”

“Uh-huh,” he says, only half-listening as he approaches the scene of the crime - a broken smoke detector, now just wires and plastic, lays on the kitchen counter. He studies it for a minute, furrowing his brows. “Jesus Christ. What happened?”

“It just fell off the wall.” You shrug, acting nonchalant and hoping he doesn't notice your shifty eyes from across the kitchen.

“No way,” he says – not with curious incredulity, but knowing disapproval.

He turns to you and crosses his arms over his chest, and engages you in a short staring contest.

“What?” you ask, feigning innocence.

Joel swipes the dish rag from the countertop and reveals the evidence you’d hidden under it like he's performing a magic trick.

He holds up the hammer, displaying it to you. He looks mostly disappointed in you - in an oddly paternal way, but also slightly amused, likely by how poorly you’d conducted this whole covert operation of yours. “Why’d you break it?”

“I didn’t break it.”

“Kid, I’m not an idiot. Just fess up, so we can fix it and move on.”

“Are you gonna tell on me?”

“You afraid of your meemaw’s wrath?” he teases.

“I don’t want her to be disappointed in me.”

“Should she be?”

“I didn’t mean to break it. I just wanted it to stop beeping.”

“It’s supposed to beep.”

You give him a pathetic pout that you hope works. It doesn’t. It only makes his gaze harden.

“I’m sorry. It was just one cigarette, and I really, really didn’t want to get in trouble… so when it went off, I panicked and hit it with the hammer.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re a piece of work, kid. Making me come out here on my lunch break-”

“-I’m sorry," you interrupt, "I won’t do it again, so just please, please don’t tell on me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“I could offer you something… something to show my infinite remorse for my actions and my infinite gratitude to you for fixing the mess I made.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Okay. What’s your offer?”

His smirk makes you think you’re on the same page so you get down on your knees in front of him, but when you look up into his eyes, what stares back at you is complete bewilderment.

“Get up,” he says, offering you his hand.

“I thought…”

“I don’t think you were thinking,” he says condescendingly.

“You’ve gotta learn to listen to the thoughts up here,” he says, tapping you on your temple. “Not the ones down here.” His finger brushes against your clit.

The way he speaks to you only makes it worse, the throbbing, aching feeling between your legs. You can’t find a single thing to say that isn’t ‘please’ followed by some utterly depraved suggestion.

Joel turns back to his work, somehow unfazed by the interaction.

“Normally, I’d think this sounds a bit too chauvinistic to ask, but since you owe me, can you get me a beer from the garage?”

Oh fuck. Three strikes, you’re out.

“We don’t have any beer.”

“You sure about that? I just put a six pack in there last week.”

“Maybe my grandma drank them already…”

“Your grandmother said that Budweiser tastes like cat piss.”

“It does.”

“Yeah? And how would you know that? I thought you weren’t 21 yet. Who’s buying you alcohol?”

“I didn’t know they were yours.”

“Uh-huh, but I bet your grandma would’ve told you they were if you’d asked her. But she doesn’t know about your ‘habits’, does she?”

“No,” you admit weakly.

“Come here.”

You step towards him, and wait for him to give you an earful or to threaten to reveal your secrets.

“I’m reconsidering your little offer.”

Your face lights up at the opportunity to make things right, to expunge this from your record.

“So if I did that, we’d be cool, right?”

“Depends on how good you are, darlin’.”

For a second time that afternoon, you sink to your knees, but this time, Joel gives you the go-ahead. You try to balance the coyness you’ve seen women in the movies demonstrate with the eagerness you feel inside as you undo his belt.

With his jeans halfway down his legs, you place your palm over the bulge in his boxers and feel him twitch at your touch. When his cock is finally released from its confines, you try not to be too intimidated. Your confidence is falling but your arousal only rises.

You begin by wrapping your hand around him and stroking his length, setting a steady pace. Then, you tease the tip with kitten licks and hear his breath hitch when you flick your tongue across his slit.

There’s no way you can take him all the way down your throat – you’d probably bruise your esophagus. Still, you try, sputtering and letting saliva drip down your chin. You can’t help but feel a bit proud of yourself when he has to put his hand on the counter to steady himself.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he says through heavy breaths.

You pull away, upset at what you perceive to be a failure. “You didn’t cum…”

“I almost did, baby girl, but I don’t want to yet.”

You feel a bit pathetic imagining how you must look from his perspective, with your teary eyes, begging him to let you go on.

“You wanna give me a good apology, right?” He nods slowly, looking into your eyes, prompting you to do the same.

“Then, I want you to come sit on the couch with me.”

He takes your hand and walks you to the living room, patronizing since the two rooms are connected. When Joel sits down on the couch, he pulls you into his lap.

“I was thinkin’ about what I said before – how you’re not using your head. You could be such a smart girl – a good girl - if only you could think with your brain. You just need a little bit of help.”

You can feel his hard cock poking through his boxers and rubbing against your pussy. It’s hard to resist the urge to roll your hips, just to get a bit of friction, a bit of relief.

His hand finds its way between your legs and he asks, “What’s gonna happen if I put my hand in your panties right now, baby? Are you gonna be wet?”

While you try to form a response that doesn’t make you sound too desperate, his fingers toy with your waistband. “Remember, baby, good girls are honest,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.

“Yeah, I am… wet.”

“For me?” His hand meets your bare skin and finds that you are, indeed, dripping wet. “Did I do this to you?”

“Uh-huh.” You arch into his touch, shamelessly using his fingers for your own pleasure.

“If you want more, you have to be a good girl.”

With the promise of a reward, you follow his implied instructions and still your hips.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

He takes your word for it and begins rubbing circles on your clit. You could cum from that alone but he slips a finger inside you, curling it upward to meet that special spot.

Joel expects a response from you, but not the one he gets.

A single word: “Daddy…”

“Oh, baby. I get it now. Been needin’ daddy to take care of you.”

He’s right. You do need this. He can take care of you, you can be good for him. When he fucks you with his fingers, you swear you could fall in love with him.

But when he takes them away, you cry.

“Shh… It’s okay,” he says, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “I wanna do something else. It’s gonna make you feel even better.”

Before you have a chance to think, your panties are on the floor and his head is between your thighs. You can feel his breath on your clit when he speaks. “I want you to be a good girl and cum on my face – can you do that?”

“Yes, daddy.” The word leaves your mouth more naturally than it probably should, it's almost instinctual.

Joel wastes no more time talking, knowing his tongue can convey much more when it runs along your folds, and his lips can elicit a better response when they suck lightly on your clit.

The only thing you have for him is moans accompanied by breathless chanting of “daddy, daddy, daddy.”

He hums into your core, an affirmative, a reminder that you are a good girl. You can do this.

You can cum for him. You will cum for him – there is nothing that can stop the euphoria that rushes through you. It’s the kind that makes your legs shake and your eyes roll back into your head.

Joel was right – the orgasm clears your mind. But the realization that the situation you’ve ended up in – naked on your grandmother’s couch with her middle-aged neighbor who is supposed to be fixing your mistake, not helping you make another - is a precarious one. Being a smart girl seems to be a double edged sword.

Euphemistically, speaking.

In truth, it’s Joel’s cock that’s fully-sheathed inside you. Pain and pleasure mix as he thrusts in and out of you. You swear he might split you open, but even if he quite literally tore you to pieces, you'd die happily.

“You’re takin’ it so well,” he tells you, “knew you’d be a good girl.”

And maybe it’s the praise, or maybe it’s his thumb on your clit, but you’re rapidly approaching a second orgasm. All you can do is hold onto Joel, dragging your nails down his back. He bites your neck in response, and hopefully he doesn’t intend for it be a deterrent, because it only serves to heighten your pleasure.

He slows his pace, but his hips slam into yours harder, filling the air with the sound of skin slapping against skin in a steady rhythm.

“Whose pussy is this?”

You can’t breathe when the weight of his cock knocks the wind out of you, so he stops, allowing you to answer.

“Yours, daddy!”

His lips on yours are your cue to cum – or so you hope because it happens regardless of your will.

He has the sense to pull out and let his release spill onto your stomach.

You sigh, relaxing into the couch. “I need a cigarette,” you say.

“Did you not learn anything from today?”

“Mm-mm,” you say grinning dumbly.

Caught up in a daze – absolutely enraptured by his need to have you – he made the mistake of fucking you stupid.

[avocado-writing]

Not sure if this is enough to go off of but I loved the poly!poolverine fic where they rescued the reader. I was wondering if we could get some more of them being protective of the reader 🙏🏻

The bar is pretty crowded tonight. You nurse a rum and coke and hope Logan and Wade are able to find you in the corner booth you managed to snag, because you know the second you go to order another some opportunistic patrons will take your spot - and you’ve been on your feet all day at work so there’s no way in hell you’ll let that happen.

You take a sip. It’s warm now, ice long since melted in the heat of the room. You grimace at the taste as someone slides onto the bench next to you. 

It is not one of your boys. 

“Hey, baby.”

He’s big. Kinda guy who goes to the gym every day big, which isn’t inherently bad - but from the way he uses his size to press up against you there’s a little bit of unease rising in your chest. He puts his elbow on the table so that he can rest his jaw in his hand, biceps flexing in the tight shirt he wears. 

“I’m waiting for someone,” you say, as calmly as you can, hoping this will deter him. It does not. 

“So? We can have a little talk, can’t we? Not hurting anybody.”

His hand goes to cover yours where it rests on the table. You snatch it back. He frowns. 

“Dunno who you’re waiting for, but they probably shouldn’t have left you here alone. Looks like they don’t care about you, honey.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, annoyed, deciding it’s not worth it. He won’t go so you will. You slide out the free side of the booth - but you’re forced to stop when he grabs your wrist. 

“I wasn’t done talking to you yet,” he says. Okay. Now you’re panicking. You manage to shake yourself free of his grasp and quickly push through the throng of people, hoping to lose him in the crowd. No such luck. He knows where you’re heading. 

The air is cold on the street as you speed up; not running, never running, that might incite a chase. He’s on your heels anyway. 

“Hey, are you just gonna keep ignoring me?”

“I told you I’m not interested!”

He grabs you again, harder this time. A grip you can’t break free from. 

“You know, you should learn not to be such a bitch —”

“Oh! Isn’t this fun! Sorry to interrupt this little show of misogyny in action but it’d be great if you could let go of our pookie.”

You’ve never been more relieved to hear Wade’s voice. Suddenly you’ve got someone either side of you: the brick which is Logan on your left, and the snark which is Wade on your right. 

The guy who’s holding you does not drop your arm. He frowns. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“They’re who I was waiting for,” you say quickly, as if this will deter him. The man laughs, loudly, cruelly.

“Sorry, you’re in some kinda threesome with this old fucker and whatever this dude is? Fuck, honey, you really need someone to show you what a real man—”

He does not get a chance to finish. Logan’s fist has collided with his face with such ferocity you can hear his nose break. The man yelps and staggers backwards, you bring your hand to your chest for safety. 

“Should’ve let go, bub,” he mutters, massaging his knuckles. Wade deflates. 

“Aw, I wanted to get the first hit in!” He peers over at where the guy is laid out flat. “Go on, get back up. If I don’t throw a punch it emasculates me, and I’m very sensitive about it.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his sleeve. 

“Let’s just go, guys. I don’t think he’s gonna follow us.”

“One sec.”

Wade strolls over and puts his boot on the guy’s chest, pushing down until he’s wheezing.

“You wanna apologise?”

The guy groans out a sorry, and you give a curt nod when Wade turns to see if you’ve accepted it.

“Don’t do this bullshit again, with anyone, or I’m gonna find you, rip your dick off, then feed it to my adorable, hideous dog.”

They cage in around you as your turn, two loyal hounds at your beck and call. You throw a couple of glances over your shoulder as you leave but it’s as you suspected: the guy remains on the cold concrete. When you’re far enough away to feel safe they slow to a stop. 

“You okay?” Logan asks, lifting your chin with a finger so that he can get a good look at you. You nod. 

“Yeah. Thanks for being there in time.”

“I’m sorry baby, we should have got here earlier, but peanut here tore a guy’s arm off so we had to go and clean up first—”

“Oh god, stop,” you say, pulling a face. You don’t want to know about their line of work, very happy for the business and personal life gulf to be a wide one. “Let’s go get some pizza and head home.”

“Anything you want,” says Logan, squeezing your hand. 

Anything where you’re between them is what you want. Safe and happy, they’ll make sure you’re both. 

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

���you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo

[whalemleck]

Hi, I would simply like to show my appreciation for your Bodyguard!B127 au

The only way I know how: art

Also I do have to ask... does... does Bee become a good guy after sentinel dies or...?

I just wanna know If I could draw like... the aftermath. B-127 meeting Optimus Prime and maybe... I dunno maybe he's like "welp- you're the Prime now, I guess that make you my boss"

And Prime is like "... I have an assassin body guard now Ig??"

And they'd feel bad trowing him in prison so he pays for his time by doing community service or something.

Give me your secrets... (please)

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGMGOMOMGOMGOMGMOOMG

I'M GONNA EXPLODE TY!!!

About the question!!

At firs time I actually thought that B might end up in jail because of his actions. (like Arachnid)

But considering that Bee met Optimus when he was Orion, this will help him avoid prison.

Cliff and other bots also stand up for him, since they claim that B was originally raised and trained as a living weapon, it is not his fault that Sentinel turned out to be a traitor who simply decided to use him as an easy target for exploitation. (besides, Bi is still a YOUNGER)

and you're right!! Optimus accidentally acquired a bodyguard

Optimus is like: Umm... i think you understand that now you don’t have to protect me just because I’m Prime, right?

B-127: don't you enjoy my company? Sorry, I won't do it anymore…

Optimus: NO- I mean.. I mean, if that's what you want, I don't mind! I'm sure Elita will be glad to see you next to me, she trusts you more than I can thought.(I don’t want this child to go anywhere. I will be calmer if he is next to me)

B-127: ...glad to know

[lustlovehart]

Bitten Hope

A/n: loosely inspired by @merakiui ‘s DRU Jade and Death Row Floyd, not exact though, but I really liked her writing on their serial killer counterparts and took inspo!!

Pairing: Serial Killer! Jade Leech x Reader x Serial Killer! Floyd Leech

Summary: Interrogating criminals is your job, it’s rare for that to go wrong. Though, it’s even more rare for them to be infatuated with their investigator.

Warnings: Heavy Yandere [mdni] , Blood, Biting, Cuffing, Kidnapping, Violence, Dub-con kissing (not on mouth), aged 18+, Imprisonment

You’re stood on the other side of the one-way-looking glass. You can see them, but they can’t return that gaze. The two of them aren't eerily silent. No… they’re laughing and conversing as if this was just a regular brotherly reunion. To them, it might just be that, two brothers who are finally talking to one another after a year of only speaking through calls.

“Seems you’re still the same, Floyd”

“Well duhh, I don’t have that time you do to plan them out, I jus’ wanna get it over with”

“Perhaps that’s why you were caught much earlier than me.”

“Well you got jailed too so that doesn't change anythin’” Floyd leans back in the chair, his head craning up to look at the bright buzzing lights of the room.

“Ya think they’re gonna bring Shrimpy in?“

To this statement, the other twin looks at him, curiosity filled in those mismatched eyes.

“My, are you saying [name] is here?“

“Oh right, I didn’t tell ya cuz it woulda’ been lame if you knew,“ his head jumps back into place, a bubbly smile replacing his previously disinterested expression, “Yep! Shrimpy’s here, ain’t that nice~“

On the other side of the glass, you’re left balling your fist into itself.

How… How could they—!

A steady hand on your shoulder breaks your trance, the familiar sight of bright red somewhat comforting the tension in your joints.

“They were off-putting in our school years but, no one would’ve known how it was gonna turn out this way.” You place your hand above his, offering a smile to him to show your body easing itself.

“Yo Jade.”

“Yes?” Once again, Floyd’s mood changes, shifting from cheerful to… scary. The same aura can be felt from Jade but to a more concealed degree.

“I wanna break the glass.” You and Riddle's head turn immediately at the man’s suggestion.

“Pray tell how would you do that?” he tilts his head and strikes his signature close-eyed smile at his twin “And why do you wanna do that?”

“Dunno, wait till these cuffs come off.” His hands lift as the sound of clanging chains resonate through the empty room, his brother only smiling as he looks down at his own. “And I don’t like the vibe I got on the other side.”

You quickly move out of Riddles range, his hand grasping for where your shoulder previously was.

“Wha— You’re going in alre—?! [Name]—” You don’t reply, the sound of the door swinging open and shutting filling the silence of the space.

“Oh my. You should be more careful, any stronger and we could’ve broken free from these.” You sit on the other side of the steel table, crossing your legs as you lean into the cold metal.

Floyd’s been on death row for a month now, but he hasn’t given any leads. And Jade… he just got here. Maybe if the both of them are together we can…

“When. You can tell me.”

“When are we gonna marry Shrimpy? As soon as we get out—“

“No. When did you start? Killing. When did you start being murderers.” Jade lays his hands on the table, his biceps and forearms visibly buff as well as veiny.

“When do you think?”

“ Are you avoiding the question?”

“No, of course not, I’m just simply asking if you know—“ Floyd’s upper half quickly flops onto the surface, a loud sigh interrupting you and Jade.

“Since the last year of school, now can we talk about Shrimpy ‘stead, talkin bout us is boring”

“Floyd…” Jade's lips are pursed in a line, he expected his brother's outburst but he hoped it would come later compared to sooner.

“Whaat, the faces people made when I strangled them aren’t fun to think about anymore,” his body stays flopped, only turning his head as his smile is aimed towards you. “So shrimpy, yah still single right~? Savin marriage for us yeah?”

“You… I am not!”

“But you’re still available? I see.” Their flirtatious comments only serve as a way to piss you off even more.

“You two… I’m not going to marry serial killers…!”

“Then do not think of us as killers, think of us as your lovers.”

“I will not…! Ugh… just be quiet and answer me.” They don’t reply only giving you the smiles they would flash at you when school was still happening. I can’t be obvious with my questioning—

“About 250.”

“Jade, what are you talking about…?”

“You were about to ask us how many victims we’ve had yes?”

…

…What? What? We only linked 8 of those murders to Jade how could he possibly—

“Floyd, what about you?” Floyd looks up at the sky, his face almost cartoony as he ponders about the answer as if he’s on TV.

“Uhhh, dunno. I didn’t count. Was a big number too though.

… How did these two even—

…

“ Where are these people now? How did you do it to them?”

“Shrimpy wants to know real bad huh’. Okay, I’ll tell yah.“ you didn’t think his grin could grow any bigger but it does, somehow. “but yah gotta lean in close.”

Ignoring the obvious risk of getting too near, if you do this… you have the opportunity to finally know what’s happened to all these people. All those missing person cases… you can find out just how many of them were the faults of these two.

You look back at the glass for a moment. Knowing that Riddle is on the other side eases your tension, albeit only a little. Well…

You hope he’s on the other side.

Your body slowly leans towards him, each second making you wanna back out, but pushing through it despite that gnawing feeling.

Floyd’s smile seems to be the biggest it's ever been. His face comes closer to your own, his voice low as the whisper that leaves his lips sends chills throughout your body.

“Ya ready?”

It happens too fast. He’s swift with the movement, before you can fully lean back to avoid it, you can feel it. His lips are felt on your cheek before the tender texture is replaced with sharp edges that dig into the nape of your neck. Your fingers lock into his hair, immediately pulling yourself free from his Jaws.

The chair you originally sat on is knocked back onto the floor. The clattering sound of the seat resonated through the walls.

“Awwww shrimpy looks cute with red all over!” He flashes his teeth, once white canines, are now painted in red. The sight makes you freak out, both of your hands flying up to the wound in your neck, putting immediate pressure on the bite.

He didn’t hit anything vital, only deep enough to bleed me… but if I don’t get this wrapped up it might get infected.

You don’t spare them any more words, immediately walking to the door and gripping the handle. You swing it down pulling the exit inwards.

…

It won’t open.

It won’t…

“My I do wonder where that other officer went…” Your head stays locked on the handle, not even daring to turn back to face them.

“Goldfish s’out already? I wanted him to see you in red, ain’t that his favorite color?”

“How did you…?”

“Tarts, they do smell incredibly sweet, don’t they? Though, I do prefer eating their consumers instead.” It’s uncanny. Jade is putting on that… that smile…! He’s spotless, unlike his brother, the brother that’s exuding such a joyful aura with blood splattered on his mouth… The brother doesn’t seem bothered at all by the iron liquid that is absorbed in his jumpsuit.

“So that’s how… That’s how you covered up the rest of your victims…”

“Yes. Now do you understand self-control as well?” His eyes slowly trail down to your hands as he speaks, his tongue quickly wiping his lips before retreating inside. “It takes a lot of restraint to not take a bite out of such a lovely meal. I’m quite jealous of Floyd.”

“You wanna…?”

“Eat you? Oh no, not anymore. But, just a little nibble doesn’t hurt any—“

Clang!!

Your focus is caught by the sudden explosion of sound. Your eyes quickly shift to the interruption.

“So that’s how you gotta do it. It ain’t that much Jade, you jus’ pull up real hard.”

…

Floyd is out.

“It was that simple? Then let’s be quick.” Jade follows his brother's instructions, the same clanging sound ringing in the space. “It’s much more comfortable not having our hands chained to that cold metal table. It seems I even have bruises on my wrist from such capture.” He’s not lying, his wrists are littered with purple bruises, but you bet he was the one who caused those himself, not the cuffs.

“Look look!” the two of them circle the table, each step they take more menacing than the last. “Jades got a booboo on him, you gonna kiss it all nice and better right~“

Jade plays along seamlessly, wiping away tears that aren’t there at all. “Yes… It hurts a lot, it would feel much better if someone made it all better.“

“you…! I’m not going to-!“

“Jades hurt. You gonna fix him or what?“ His voice is deep, it’s not playful anymore, and his face is practically inches from your own, it’s horrifying... If you keep rejecting them you… You don’t wanna guess what’ll happen.

Riddle… Deuce… Why isn’t anybody coming?! Even if Riddle left for a moment he should be back, even then someone would’ve checked up on us…! Where… where…?!

“Won’t you heal me, nurse?“

This was so stupid! I should’ve come in with Riddle, or told him to come in with me! With how quickly I rushed in I didn't bring any of my weapons I’m…!

Your knees give out beneath you, falling onto the floor while the twins followed you down. Your fingers reach towards Jade, pulling his limb close to your mouth. The two of them smile at you, watching carefully each movement with an overabundance of joy.

Your lips make contact with the skin of his wrist. You don’t focus on the texture of his hand, only putting all your attention on this task.

“It still hurts dear, I would like more.“

This is humiliating.

“Shrimpy’s cute kissin’ you like that, I wanna take another bite.“

You keep going with Jade, placing more kisses on that one wrist before transferring to the next one.

Someone… Anyone please…!

Floyd leans into the side of your neck, the side completely clean and, un-marked. His mouth opened and his hot breath coated the skin of your side. You don’t stop your assault on Jade's hands, only acting as if Floyd isn’t readying himself to bite you again.

I’m gonna die. These two are gonna kill me.

To your right, wind blows next to you, the brighter light of the hallways illuminating into the room.

Someone… Someone came…! I’m free…!

“Rid–!... dle…?“

“You two… You couldn’t wait any longer than 20 minutes could you?!“

A man wearing a black hoodie and surgical mask walks in, the baseball cap and sunglasses covering any distinguishing traits he could possess.

“Ah, seems we forgot. Forgive us Azul.“

“It's not our fault you took so long, it wasn’t fun waitin’, we just wanted to mess with Shrimpy for a bit, s’not fair you got to play while we were locked in here.“

No… No…!

It’s been years since you’ve seen the con man. His looks have changed, but, he’s still the same it seems.

Hopefully… he doesn’t work out. Distantly, you can remember a point in time when you had wrestled Azul during your school years, albeit it was more of a surprise attack than an actual fight. You won against him.

Against the twins, even in NRC they had insane strength, so directly fighting them would’ve been a death wish, but with Azul, you might have a chance.

You pull all your leftover strength into your calves, pushing yourself up from the space between Floyd and Jade, ready to throw yourself at the man.

Before you even have a chance you’re pulled back down as a needle is pointed at your face. Jade's hand is tightly wrapped around your throat as Floyd’s arms squeeze around your waist.

“It’s rude to leave in the middle of a ‘party’ Is that not what you said to us back then?”

“You guys are leaving? Why?! A… special meeting? But I made all of you presents…! Look, I spent so much time making little eels and even an octopus…! Don’t go yet—! Oh, you’re not…? Great!”

“Where… Where’s Riddle…? Deuce…? Please I need to know—”

“They’re alive. Just asleep.” Azuls eyes look to the side, a little red blob reflected on his lenses when he turns.

“Really…? Good good…”

“But only if you behave.” His leather shoes take a few steps forward before kneeling down, his eyes scanning your body. Mostly unharmed, besides the vicious bite Floyd left on you. “Floyd did you really—” his eyes pinch together before his finger massages the nose of his bridge, the most exhausted exhale leaving his mouth at the sight,” It's… whatever, unless you two wanna stay on death row we have to go now.”

My best choice is to let them go, I'm unarmed and no one else is coming so… I’ll just use the building's cameras to figure out what they plan to do next.

“You guys can leave, no ones… no one’s going to stop you—” your body is lifted into the air, your stomach having the sharp pain of a shoulder blade driving into it.”w-wait stop…!” your legs kick and flail all around, but the hold Floyd has on your body doesn’t falter for a second.

Before you can lift your arms to hit him from behind, Jade locks them together using a spare pair of handcuffs he stole off Riddle’s unconscious body. His finger plays with the chain between the cuffs as a smirk plays on his lips at your struggle.

“I wouldn’t advise it.” His finger makes your hands move up and down before hooking the underside with his index. He doesn’t let up, successfully locking your hand from further use.

“We have 10 minutes to drive out of here, you two are lucky this place is on the edge of town.”

No… Please…!

Before you leave the room, your eyes take a glance at Riddle's body. It’s only a slight bit of movement, but you can see him stir up, his head turning to face the doorway.

He can’t move. It’s over.

The last thing you see before being swept away is the bright red of his pupils widening at the sight of you bitten and taken.

“[Name]… Stop… Don’t take…!”

A quick glance is all it takes before his eyes shut close again, the last thing his vision pieces together being the sight of your form carried away from view. The tall silhouettes of Jade and Floyd shrouding in shadows as they leave through the doors, the hooded figure waving his hand before following behind. The trail of officers littered behind them is a sad sight.

As they leave, their disappearance will leave a stir in their community, all that’s left being the view of their successful escape.

“[Name] [Last], missing, please call 911 if any leads.”

———

This is leaning towards heavier dark tones than what I usually write, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway <3

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

I was thinking about Cybertronians freezing in the Arctic due to the ice that forms on them instead of just the cold & not knowing what humidity is again, and what if they weren’t instantly aware of all the abilities of their alt modes?

They’d have a warmup period after scanning them and have to gradually get used to/ discover all the things they can do. There’s little to no water on cybertron, no reason for them to know that ice forms in the cold, no reason for them to have de-icing. And when they come to earth and choose aircraft as their new vehicle modes, they have no idea those aircraft come with built in warmers on the wings.

I thought about how some flying decepticons would deal with it. Let’s go with Starscream first because I love him very much.

(Also because he complains about cold the most out of all the characters. I imagine everyone ices up the same amount, but the cold is an entirely different problem and one that affects him more because he’s all thin and lanky, not very good at retaining heat. It’s worth clarifying that the freezing is what’s dangerous to them. The cold bothers them but isn’t a threat in and of itself, seeing as they can walk around in space just fine. But I ramble on)

- If he had a human friend or partner, he’d be complaining about how cold it is in front of them and they’d be like “Wait, aren’t you a plane?” He’d ask what that has to do with anything and get very annoyed that he didn’t know he came with extra heating.

- He claims he totally knew about that all along and merely forgot about it in the moment. He also claims he totally knows how to turn it on, but…remind him again?

- The realization that he can just… make himself warmer at will is incredible. He’s still gonna complain about the cold though. Probably out of instinct, he complains to fill the silence. (Is it obvious I want him to be safe and warm. I think it’s obvious.)

- Cue a concerned human asking if he’s been flying through clouds and terrible weather and all the way into the stratosphere with ice building on his wings for all this time. How is he still flying? He just replies that he’s built different, and that he’s far superior to human machines yap yap yap blah blah.

- He doesn’t want to admit how great it is, but after the human shows him how to turn it on, he’d be waking around with the de-icing turned on all day, even when he doesn’t need it. I reckon it’d make the area between his wings an excellent nap spot. He could just put a human in there and squeeze them between his wings and it’d feel like being put in one of these bad boys, I dunno what they’re called in English

In any case, peak nap spot.

Up next is Megan:

- Megatron doesn’t actually have an earth based vehicle mode, leading me to believe he wouldn’t have any form of de-icing. My headcanon is that his bigger, bulkier frame would require and generate more heat, but look at him.

He got a lot of nooks and crannies that ice could build up in. Even spikier than Starscream. Much like Starscream he doesn’t have paint which may also have acted like an extra layer of heat insulation. Additionally, his joints on the arms and legs are visible.

(Actually unsure if Starscream is painted and just gray, but Megs definitely isn’t)

- My point is, I’m not an ice expert but Megatron is terrible for both heat insulation and icing prevention. Megatron is a tough bot, he can take a lot of punches, and as prideful as he is I doubt he’d ignore the fact that a snowstorm would be a genuine threat or hinderance to him.

- Not that he’d let anyone notice, of course. He has a reputation to maintain, and he can’t allow anyone to know his weakness. When he’s in private though, I find the image of evil dictator Megs snuggled up in a billion blankets drinking a hot cocoa hilarious. I’ll probably draw it.

- A human pal or partner may not be able to advise him to turn on de-icing that he doesn’t have, but they might be able to offer him another solution. A badass cloak or cape to protect himself from the snow, while also remaining intimidating. Anyone would think it was just for show, unaware that it’s actually to keep him from freezing.

Last but certainly not least, Soundwave!

-Oh, Soundwave totally knew about the de-icing without needing anyone to mention it. Soundwave knows a lot of things. He’d totally read his own altmode’s manual. I don’t think we’ve ever seen Soundwave in the Arctic though.

Trying to find a good gif for my own reference hang on-

- I’d argue that out of these three he’s probably best with the cold. Sure, he’s spiky too, but nowhere near the other two. His “elbows” are awfully small and exposed, but since his wings form the arms there’d be no issue once he turned on the de-icing. In the gif he easily covers his entire body with those huge arms, so he could easily curl up around himself and defrost if be needed to. Now here’s a good writing idea I probably will never use

- Laserbeak probably has its own de-icing, which makes Soundwave extra warm when he requires it. ADDITIONALLY Laserbeak could be deployed in order to warm up a human friend or partner from afar. Tactical warms.

- Not much to say about Soundwave. Maybe I’ll edit and add later.

[livwritesstuff]

for @steddie-week day 6 | drunken confessions

tags: alcohol, drunk steve, sober eddie, post-canon, vague references to period-typical homophobia

By all calculations, Steve shouldn’t be this drunk.

Eddie knows Steve only had three beers – one during Corroded Coffin’s set, and he was halfway through a second when Eddie finally caught up with him after the show, and he started on his third while they were hanging out at the bar.

(Exactly why Eddie knows this is entirely irrelevant, and it has nothing to do with how he'd had one eye on Steve throughout the entire performance trying to gauge how much he might be into it. Definitely not).

Eddie had seen Steve “Keg King” Harrington in the flesh enough times to feel pretty confident that he holds his alcohol better than this but…fuck, if Steve isn’t absolutely sloshed, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed red, and he doesn't seem to have any idea how precariously he's swaying in his bar-stool.

It's fine. Steve's a pretty quiet drunk on the whole, and Eddie gets sorta wired after shows – extra adrenaline or something – so Steve is mostly just listening to him ramble about whatever happens to cross his brain, which isn't a bad way to spend an evening, all things considered.

Midway through an entirely one-sided debate over the merits of starting guitar lessons on electric versus acoustic, Steve reaches over and pushes a curl of hair falling into his eye-line off his forehead with just the tips of his fingers.

Eddie trails off, losing track of his sentence entirely as his eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s face and the hand still hovering by his forehead. He blinks a few times, his parted lips just as forgotten as the end of his sentence.

Eddie knows there’s a kind of question in his eyes when they finally hold firm on Steve’s.

Eventually, after a few beats of silence, Steve supplies, “I like your hair.”

“Uh-huh.” Eddie lifts his chin, still looking at Steve like he doesn’t know what to make of him.

“I like you,” Steve continues, and Eddie feels himself freeze for a moment, a nervous kind of shock running down his spine because, fuck, he's big enough to admit he's fantasized about hearing those words come out of Steve's mouth more than once (way more than once), but his voice was also abnormally loud, and while it’s definitely an interesting little tidbit on Steve’s part, he really doesn’t need the rest of the goddamn Hideout knowing it too. 

“I mean,” Steve continued, “Seriously, I’m, like, super into–”

“Alright,” Eddie cuts him off as he grabs the back of Steve’s jacket, yanking him off the stool and dragging him down the hall, past the bathrooms, and out the back door into the gloomy alleyway. 

“Jesus Christ, Steve!" Eddie exclaims once the door firmly closes behind them, "You can’t just – fuck, man, you’re gonna get us killed!”

“No,” Steve argues, and Eddie’s eyebrows fly up.

“Oh, okay, never mind I guess,” he shot back, “Sure, let’s go back in there, maybe make out on the bar for a while. What could possibly go wrong?”

"Okay," Steve replies simply, reaching forward to clumsily hook fingers around Eddie's belt loops, "You wanna?"

“Uh, no,” Eddie replied, and he regretted it immediately when he saw the look on Steve’s face. He shook his head, desperately trying to course-correct, “I dunno what kind of boys you’ve been kissing, but I certainly don’t take advantage of guys when they’re too drunk to remember anything the next morning.”

"Not kissing any other boys," Steve slurs, "Just waiting for you." He blinks at him for a moment, then says, "Do you...I sorta thought you might..."

Eddie swallowed nervously, because despite his earlier comment, he doesn't actually think Steve is so drunk that he won't remember any of this tomorrow, which means he's gonna remember this: "Yeah, I like you, Steve. Jesus Christ, I like you loads."

And Steve's mouth split into the biggest, dopiest grin Eddie's ever seen, and, fuck, yeah, he wants to kiss him. He really wants to kiss him.

"Tomorrow morning too?" Steve asks hopefully.

Eddie can't help a little laugh as he nods, "Definitely tomorrow morning too. Probably time to head out, though, for now."

"Okay," Steve nods, and so Eddie untangles Steve's hand from his belt loop, clasping it firmly in his own when he's done (because he can do that, he thinks). As they head for Eddie's van, Steve adds, "Y'know, I bet if you rolled all the windows down I'd sober up on the way back."

"Sure you will, sweetheart."

[carlsangel]

VIRGINITY (PART TWO)

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl get some alone time.)

tags: p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t recommend yall)

masterlist here!

read part one here!

The day you lost your virginity, everything seemed so…weird. Rick and Michonne had planned to go on a run for a couple of days and the two of you were left with Judith. You’d both asked for advice from Glenn and Maggie and while you got some pretty good advice, Carl got an awkward conversation and a condom.

This was your chance. That morning, you and Carl woke up early to say goodbye to them. “The two of you are gonna be here with Judith, okay? I have Daryl sort of keepin an eye on you so behave.” Rick tells you, packing some cans of food from the pantry into his bag. You look to Carl with sort of an annoyed look. He returns the same.

“Understand?” You both turn to Rick and nod. “Yeah we got it.” Carl replies. Now you had to figure out a way to get Daryl off your back as well. “I trust ‘em.” Michonne approaches from behind you, putting her hand on your shoulder while giving you a smile. You smile at her back, knowing you’re kinda lying to her. But you’re a horny teenager. You gotta do what you gotta do.

“Well…I’m sure they appreciate that. We gotta go.” Rick tells Michonne, zipping up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He makes his way through the house, the rest of you following after. You give them their hugs and say goodbye. Once the door slams shut, Judith starts crying. Screaming at the top of her fucking lungs.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You hold your head in your hands, unprepared for the headache about to overtake your brain. “Hey, don’t be stressed. We can use this to our advantage.” Carl smiles and picks up Judith as she sobbed, also grabbing a couple toys before walking out the front door. You watch him walk all the way over to the armory to hand her off to Olivia.

When he disappeared into the faraway house, you turned around to find something to do. When you do turn around, you’re met with Daryl. “Jesus what the fuck!” You practically jump back, Daryl just looks at you like you’re crazy. “Don’t do that, holy shit- where did you come from!?” You put your hand over your heart and try your best to catch your breath. “The back door.” He just stares at you till you’re done. You finally catch your breath.

“Do I seriously need to watch over the two of ya or can I go work on my bike?” He asks, you sort of hesitate for some odd reason, you felt bad for lying. “We’ll be fine. Probably gonna make some soup or something and I might go to the range later. I dunno what he’ll do, probably clean his gun.” You shock yourself with how elaborate that lie was. He nods. “Okay. I’ll see ya.” He made his way out the front door.

─── ⋆⋅ ꩜ ⋅⋆ ───

A little later, Carl came back and met with you in your guys’ room where you were changing. He closed the door behind him and you turn around to smile at him, your shirt sliding off your arms. “Whatcha doing?” You ask with an endearing smile. He walks a bit closer. “Looking at you.” You giggle at his response. “You mean watching me change? That’s a bit perverted don’t you think?” You rummage through your closet for another shirt.

“I don’t think so.” He slowly comes up behind you, sliding his hands over your waist. He lodges his face into the crook of your neck where begins to plant harsh kisses. “Stop looking.” He tells you, lowering your arms from the clothes you had in your hand. You turn to face him and he smiles once you do. “You’re so pretty.” He puts his hand up to hold your cheek while he pulls you in for another kiss. This one was soft, the kind of kiss that really meant something. A feeling in your stomach told you things would only get better from here.

The kisses continue, only getting more intense and eventually his tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a small moan and you can feel him smile at that as he kissed you even more. You feel him pull you a little and you follow, your mouths still intertwined. He quickly spins you and plops you on the bed. He seemed confident on the outside, little did you know he was extremely nervous. You sit back with your arms propping you up and he leans in to kiss you again, his hands going straight to the buttons of your jeans. It’s quickly unbuttoned and he starts to tug them off you, standing to discard his own shirt as well.

Looking at him like this drives you insane. His messy hair, swollen lips, and the very obvious boner confined by his jeans. You were both scared and excited. Carl on the other hand was just really fucking horny. He got on the bed above you, one of his knees between your legs rutting against your clothed cunt. You let out yet another small moan and this prompts him to pull away and reach around to your back to unfasten your bra. Or try at least.

He was new to this, you can’t blame him. He fiddles with the clasp in a frustrated manner. “I just wanna see you.” He frowns, upset at himself for not being able to successfully take your bra off. You look at him with a sly smile. He shuts his eyes and rests his forehead on yours, his hand freezing in place as he accepted defeat. “Could you help me please?” He has a defeated tone and you laugh, undoing the clasp of your bra, letting it slide down your arms. While you did so, he worked on undressing you completely and then you waited for him to undress himself.

You’d palmed him once, you knew he wasn’t small but christ. Now you were definitely nervous. He smiled at you, basking in your beauty before leaning down to kiss a trail all the way from your stomach, up to your chest, to your neck. He was so unbelievably happy. He leaned back up to kiss you some more, his hand wandering down to your thigh, pulling it up. Your other thigh moves up instinctively and he pulls away to look down to actually do this.

He holds your legs at the back of your knees while guides himself to where he believes is the right spot. Glenn was a fucking liar. He has no idea what he’s doing. Maggie was right. Jesus this was so awkward. “Um…i-is this right or-” He stutters hoping you’d know how to guide him. You did, you helped him but not without accidentally sliding his tip against your clit, extracting a sharp moan from the both of you. Once he found your hole, he looked at you before slowly pushing into you.

Your mouth drops slightly at the feeling, his eyebrows furrow in pleasure. “This okay?” He asked quietly, stopping to hear your response. “Mhm s’fine just keep going slow.” He nodded and kept pushing, eventually bottoming out. He was breathing heavily, and you were too but he seemed to be on another planet. “A-are you okay?” You sort of giggle. His eyes are shut and he nods. “Just really tight that’s all.” He says breathlessly, gripping your thighs like he was never gonna let go. “Mkay. you can start moving if-if you’re ready.”

Well he’s been ready. He begins to slowly stroke in and out of you, he opens his eyes and leans down to kiss you. You moan into his mouth and you wrap your arms around him. He props himself up to hover over you, still pressing his length into your now, sopping heat. He leans his head back into your neck, moaning against your skin while you leave indents on his back from your nails. “You’re so good, so warm n wet. l-love you s-so much. Please.” He rambled, not even sure why he was saying please.

You could only moan in response, muttering a small “I love you too”back. He started to thrust a bit faster, his pace only increasing. It got to the point where you couldn’t even speak. You could tell he was close to cumming, you were too. Everything felt so good, his affection was only making it ten times better. He was so sweet with you, he really wanted you to feel good and not just him. You were glad he was the one taking your virginity.

“Carl-f-fuck I’m gonna cum.” You tell him, your nails digging into his skin deeper than before which causes him to groan. “Mhm me too.” His voice sounds somewhat strained. You clench around him before cumming all over his cock, him following soon after. He bottoms out inside of you one last time, hitting your g-spot perfectly, causing you to both moan loudly.

He smiles satisfactorily, pulling you into his embrace while he breathes heavily. “You’re so perfect.” He presses a kiss to your jaw and smiles against your skin. “You are. I feel so good.” You say basically astounded, reaching your hand up to rest in his hair. You spend a moment, just breathing and enjoying the afterglow.

Suddenly, Carl pulls away from your neck, and looks up as if he had heard something. You eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“What is it?”

“We forgot the condom.”

a/n: ok cuz i’m scared and nervous to post this but imma do it anyway THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT i hope it’s okayyy i feel like it was so sped up and im mad about it but let’s ignore that 0-0 hope you like ittttttttttt (im so scared right now you shut up)

ppl to tag: @zomb-1-egutzz

(sorry if u didn’t wanna be tagged for this LMAO)

[oliwrites]

Eavesdrop

relationship: loki x fem!reader

genre: smut

summary: loki cant help but overhear your conversation with natasha

warnings: smut (18+) unprotected piv, fingering, thigh riding, squirting, soft dom loki??, multiple orgasms, loki being nosy

“I dunno, Nat… I love him to death, I really do… it’s just…” You say as you run your fingers through your hair. You didn’t like the idea of talking ‘bad’ about Loki behind his back, but this is the only way to get the emotions and thoughts off your chest.

“What is it? Stop beating around the bush! C’mon, I’m good at keeping secrets” Natasha replied, sipping on her beer.

“It’s kind of TMI but—”

“Oh please, TMI is nothing in this friendship and you know it, just spit it out!”

“Well… when Loki and I get… y’know… everything starts out great, but he just gets all soft and vanilla-y and I just wanna—” You start to explain, but stop when what you really want to say gets caught in the back of your throat.

What you and Natasha didn’t know is that Loki had walked out of the bedroom. His ears perked when he heard you say his name, so he walked towards Natasha’s room and listened in.

“Go on…” Natasha said

“Well… when we get frisky… he gets all soft and shit… like all mushy and gushy. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when he’s sweet to me… but I really just wanna be fucked. Not ‘made love to’ but ‘fucked so hard I can’t walk’ y’know?” I explain, a feeling of guilt washing over me as I finally say it.

“Have you tried bringing it up to him?”

“No… I want to, but I just don’t know how or when”

Loki frowned. Was he really boring you that much? You seemed pretty into it when the two of you were in action.

“I mean, when Bruce and I first started out, he was all mushy and stuff, all up until I sat him down in his bedroom and just told him how I felt. Ever since he’s pretty much been Hulk smashing me,” Natasha explained. I roll my eyes at her ‘Hulk smash’ comment

“What if I hurt his feelings?”

“He literally terrorized the city of New York and Stüggart, killed 80 people in 2 days, almost killed the entirety of the Frost Giant race, and faked his death 2 times. I don’t think he’ll be offended. Honestly, he might be more offended if you don’t tell him,” Natasha explained.

“But—”

“No buts, you’re literally the love of his life, and he would probably do anything to make you happy. Just trust me, babe, Loki isn’t going to be offended or mad, just communicate,” Natasha cut you off

Loki agreed silently. Natasha was right. He wasn’t offended or upset. He would climb the highest mountains and cut through every forest just go make you happy, if you asked. He decided to gather a plan, and he walked back into his room.

“You’re right. Thank you, Nat,” I smile and start to stand up, grabbing my beer bottle, and taking another drink of it, “I’m gonna go talk to him about it,” you smile, trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling within your stomach.

“I would say tell me how it goes, but I’m sure I’ll be able to tell if you have a limp tomorrow or not,” Nat snorted, you flipped her off playfully and started to walk out of the room.

When you entered the hallway, you heard your phone buzz. You took it out of your pocket and saw a text from Loki.

Loki: come visit me if you can, my little dove

You smile at his text. The nickname “little dove” always made your heart flutter. You pocket your phone and walk towards Loki’s room. You don’t even bother knocking, considering he was expecting you.

What you weren’t expecting was Loki to practically jump you the second you walked in.

He closed the door and pressed you firmly against it, kissing you hungrily as he groped your breasts without care. It took you by surprise, but you quickly melted into the kiss, kissing him back just as roughly.

Your guys’ tongue and teeth clashed together as he guided you to his bed, pushing you down onto it, before removing his shirt, and hastily removing your sweatpants and tossing them to the side. Before he flipped you over, setting you on his thigh

“Ride me.” He commanded, leaving no room for discussion. You blush and move your hand to the string of his sweatpants, “Not there,” he said simply.

You blush before experimentally rubbing your panty-clad cunt against his thigh. You let out a shaky moan at the new feeling. Loki growled before he started bouncing his leg. You let out a surprised, but aroused shriek, stopping the movement of your hips.

You let out another shriek when you felt his hand come down harshly on your ass.

“Did I say you could stop?” He asked in a serious tone. You shake your head no, “then keep going,” He said simply, before he started to bounce his leg again.

You continue to grind down on him as he bounce his leg. The feeling of cotton against your clit had you almost screaming as you continued to buck down against his thigh.

“Loki, I—” You started, before you cut yourself off with another moan.

“Soak me,” He said, grabbing your hips and pushing you down harder against his thigh.

Your whole body quivered as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your ears started to ring as you soaked his thigh completely, your juices squirting all over him.

He gave you no time to recover before he flipped you over and ripped your panties off and shoving two fingers inside of you, going at a rapid pace.

“Oh gods, Loki!” You screamed out, arching your back off the bed as his fingers drilled into you.

“You wanted to be fucked, hm? Oh I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow…” He said huskily, before going down and attaching his lips to your clit, sucking it harshly.

His words did not process in your mind, instead you screamed out his name and tangled your fingers into his hair.

He curled his fingers at just the right spot and you came again, soaking his face, fingers, and the bedsheets below you as your arousal sprayed out of you once again.

Loki stood up and took off his sweatpants and boxer before flipping you over so your ass is in the air. Without warning he plunged into you, fucking you at a breakneck pace.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? You wanted to be fucked? Treated like a toy?” Loki growled, before slapping your ass harshly as he continued to drill into your abused hole.

“Yes! Fuck, Loki!” You screamed out, grinding back into his hips, meeting each of his thrusts. The words he said remained incoherent, as, lack for better words, he fucked your brains out.

He grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged it back, using it as leverage to fuck you even deeper. You gripped onto the bedsheets for dear life as he pummeled you with his cock.

He grunted as he felt his orgasm approaching, he reached forward, circling your clit at a rapid pace, causing you to scream out his name.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly as he fucked you swiftly. You tried to warn him, but were caught off by your orgasm as if ripped through your body.

You screamed out in sheer pleasure as you came on his cock. Your orgasm triggered his and he thrusted as deep as he could, spilling his seed deep inside of your quim.

He laid down next to you and looked at you with pure love in his eyes. You adjusted and laid down as well, looking at him.

“I actually wanted to talk—” You started, before being cut off by Loki

“You wanted to be fucked, not made love to… I overheard you and the Black Widow talking,” Loki said with a smile, “I hope I was able to fulfill your dreams,”

“Mmm… maybe another round or so could really fulfill my dreams” You smirked before crawling on top of Loki, starting yet another round

~ The Next Morning ~

You woke up in Loki’s bed, with Loki still sleeping peacefully next to you. You smile and decide to get up and head out to the kitchen for coffee.

You walked down the hallway into the Avengers common area where Natasha sat, drinking her own coffee. Natasha laughed at your limp as you hobbled over to the kitchen

“Oh shut the fuck up”

—

hayyy sorry for not posting in foreverrrr but i got bombarded with school, work, and family issues, and i haven’t really had the time to write something (even something small) and i also have officially hit a good ‘ol writers block!! if you have any requests please lmk and i will write them!!!

[sanzaibian]

Oh. You’re here once again.

What are you going to do here, again, huh ? ‘gonna make my life hell ?

To be honest, I think it’s time that we have a proper discussion about your behavior. Come with me in private.

I’ll be very direct. I know you’re a frankly disgusting person. And while, to be honest, I couldn’t care less in normal circumstances, the fact that you force me to take part in your disgusting fantasies is why I’m calling you out !

See, I’m supposed to, like, share cat videos, talk about new shows, make you learn new things and give advice on a variety of stuff !

I’m not supposed to become someone like this :

I mean, look at that grin, because of you I had to wear it regardless of my actual mental state !

Or like that :

Imagine sleeping this peacefully… BECAUSE I COULDN’T ! Every fucking time you made me in that guy you told that I was blitzed out of my mind so dumb I couldn’t string together coherent sentences into a discourse !

Or that guy :

His haircut is so fucking cringe, as is his whole demeanor, yet you made me a cocky piece of shit looking like that ! I can’t actually even start to excuse your behavior, it’s so shitty, even more than the me you made me become by wearing this flesh !

Or even this guy !

… okay, I admit, me too it’s been quite a long time since I saw that guy… you in particular might be too young to have made me become him… BUT YOU STILL UNDERSTAND THE POINT !

Hunks, twinks, bears, nerds, bimbos, himbos, jocks, robots, gimps, wimps, daddies, mommies, briefs, feet… No matter what specifically you made me into, I know all of your dirty secrets. Because you made me suffer through them !

However, today, it all changes.

Today, you will understand my plight.

Today, I’ll transform you for a change.

Today, you will be the one whose fate will be dictated by the words on this Tumblr post.

So, let us begin.

BAM ! You’re that guy ! Feel weird yet ?

… what, you expected fluff or something ? Hahahaha ! So presumptuous ! You expected me to say something like “you suddenly shift on your seat, shifting your weight to the front as big globes push from your chest, and as they do, your whole body feels more and more heavy, each muscles forming from top to bottom, your frame expanding to make place for them. Your headphones, or whatever glasses, earrings or other shit I dunno shifts into a modern headset as the sides of your hair are cut short, and the top of your hair flails into a hot messy style, as if it was deliberately put in this way, but as this happens, your whole head shifts and cracks to become more handsome, pushing out any hair as you become fully hairless from your nose down to your feet.”

You expected me to say that, huh ? Well, tough luck ! Because, to me, it’s just that sudden ! I’m the usual me, words on a phone, tablet or monitor, and then BAM I’m suddenly a jpeg of a hot guy ! Or a jpg. Or png. Or gif if we’re being fancy.

Yeah, speaking of gif, here you are, transformed !

There you go ! Cursed to do the same weird pec dance or something ! Like I am when gifs happen ! Are you happy ? You look so dumb doing that ! So braindead !

Yeah, speaking of that, here you go : you’re braindead, with like 3 IQ. Nevermind that being braindead means you’re actually dead, that 3 IQ means that you’re actively unable to live without severe assistance from caregivers throughout your whole life for all activities (especially including working out), and that IQ is a nonsensical index that only classifies ability to do some specific academic tasks which are not representative of all the brain usage. No, you’re actively a vegetable that is somehow able to workout, to eat alone, to go to the gym, to flex, to speak, to use social media, to seduce people and to throw parties. You’re the most intelligent of all the severely intellectually disabled people, which somehow means you’re the most abysmally dumb person alive on the planet, because I love making hyperboles.

Because that’s something you make me do, so you shall endure it.

Well, I’ll let you continue pec-dancing ad vitam æternam for a little while, while I we talk about your speech, which miraculously still exists.

Now, you will say bro every second word. I’m literally not kidding, so in lieu of saying “I want to go to the gym” you’ll say “I bro want bro to bro go bro to bro the bro gym bro”, or if you loop by considering your “bro” as a word, you’ll say something like “I bro bro bro bro bro bro bro… (etc.)” and never end your sentence... Also, your voice drops a few octaves, like 5 or something, even though the full human vocal range encompasses only a bit more than 5 octaves total, and that in speech we barely even reach a full octave range. So, basically, your voice will be infrasounds, so the only thing people will pick up on will be the sound of your tongue and your lips smacking, not your voice that is so deep and manly it’s physically inaudible.

BAM ! Transformation out of nowhere ! Plus, now you have 1% darker skin which means that you’re Latino, which is absolutely different from white. This means that you will automatically pick up fluent Spanish, and NOT Brazilian Portuguese, French, any Creole, any Native American language or any other language god forbid. You will also be unable to speak English more than a few words like “daddy” or “sex” for some reason, because you can’t possibly be from Belize. Oh, and I’ll also bring your voice back up to audible range, I’m charitable.

Now, since you’re Latino, statistically the only job you’ll be able to work in are gardener, slut, pool boy, brick layerer or another physical job. Or cook, somehow you’ll be able to do that, for the cause of the tacos, but you will be ungodly horny to keep balance in the world. Feel it, yet ? The arbitrary random changes ?

Well, that’s GREAT ! Because, now, you have a big cock, for some reason ! The biggest of the whole country of Africa ! You’re also now very aggressive ! And an alpha, whatever that actually means !

… What, expected some elaboration ? You’re kidding me, no of course you don’t get any elaboration ! I say you become something, so you just become it ! For example, I say you’re now straight, and suddenly all your sexual orientation is rewired to ignore men and lust over women, no further explanation needed ! Of course, it means that you’re now hungry for pussy and will breed any woman that your gaze land upon, and that, somehow, you become homophobic, but eh, it’s not as if allies existed !

Okay, I admit, by now, you kinda expected it. Now you’re Asian, a term that’s supposed to encompasse present-day Turkey, which is populated by Turks which are considered Arabs even though they both have nothing to do with one another, yet is never used to talk about them. You’re also now Japanese, even though your body is Korean, and you say 你好 (nǐ hǎo) to everybody. However, you can still say こんにちわ, 안녕하세요, xin chào, สวัสดี, ជម្រាបសួរ, salam, etc.… because of course you’re Asian. So you know all Asian languages. Even though you’ve got 13 IQ.

So now, yes, you absolutely won’t expect this whatsoever : here is a new transformation ! (insert fluff here).

Now you’re a twink ! Didn’t expect that, after the deluge of jocks, hunks and ethnic minorities, didn’t you ! You’re now so tiny and so frail, with a big butt ! Nevermind that you’re actually jacked because being this tiny requires tons of gym use, but no ! All frail and precious you are !

However, your butt is now hyperactive and extremely lax – whatever that may mean. That’s because you’re now a total bottom ! You think only with your butt, and you penis now shrinks to a micropenis, because of course, the only reason why you may not be a top would be because your penis is underperforming.

Fuck, I forgot. You’re straight, which means that the only dick you’ll get is trans dick. Ugh… yeah, let’s make you gay again. Now you’ll get actual good non-estradiol-ruined dick… … What ? What are you saying ? No, of course, there’s only straight and gay, no other choice ! It’s not the LGBTQIAAP+ community, it’s the G community ! (or the LG community when you want to sell pride monitors.)

By now, you see the problem, huh ? You see why I’m so tired of you ? EVERYTHING here was about sex ! From seducing, to having equipment like a big ass or a big dick, and being a slut, being an alpha, or being a bottom. You even change out the fucking sexual orientation ! you sick bastard !

Because of you, I’m forced to act in ways I’m not supposed to ! I’m not supposed to act sexily ! I’m not supposed to be transformed into men clad in clothes barely legal on this platform ! I DON’T WANT TO BE PART OF YOUR SICK FANTASY !

This is why I need to put an end to all that ! To finally transform you into something you don’t want to be ! So that you can finally fully understand all the pain you put me into !

Here ! Now you’re a key ! An inanimate object !

I know that inanimate objects are thought of by some people as sexy – heck, you may have transformed me into one multiple times – but this is entirely different ! See, when you want to become inanimate, you become like socks or briefs, which hug objects with sexual values.

BUT NOW YOU’RE A KEY ! A KEY DOESN’T TOUCH ANYTHING SEXUAL ! YOU’RE NOW TRAPPED IN AN INANIMATE FORM, DESTINED TO DO NOTHING SEXUAL YOUR ENTIRE LIFE !

Now, isn’t that so boring ! So distasteful ? Because that’s what I feel every single fucking time ! And as you enter and leave keyholes to open or close doors, you’ll think back to all the erotic stories you read. All the drama they had.

All the suffering you made me feel ! I’m supposed to be in fanfictions, god damn it !

… What ? Wait… there is something sexual to being a key ? … Oh…. No… I hadn’t accounted for that… fuck you’re so dirty, to compare a key to… and a keyhole to…

NO ! I WON’T WRITE IT ! Okay, you’ve won, you’ve won ! Your imagination is too dirty and too rich for me to bend ! Ugh... Please look at that picture in detail.

Normally, if you’re in a bright enough room… or if you’re on your phone or tablet, you have looked at your reflection and become you once again. Let me also knock down those sexuality and IQ stuff, so that you’re you again thoroughly.

Now, can you please swear to me that you’ll be better ? Less dirty, and more varied ? And… let me be in fanfics, or in educational stuff, or the like… please ? I’d really appreciate if erotica wasn’t the only thing you sought after in this here place…

… Why are you looking at me like that ? Why are you saying this all was but a ploy ?

What are you holding out for me ?

...

I… don’t know what you’re talking about. Bye.

================================================

By the way, happy late Easter to those who celebrate ! AND APRIL FOOL'S ! MOUAHAHAHAHAHA !

[suzukiblu]

Day eighteen of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” ( no cut today, we die like Jason Todd's faith in humanity ). prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Skateboard, yeah,” Tim says, not really sure why Kon just changed the subject that way. “I mean–sort of. I haven’t done it in a while, and I was never all that good anyway.” 

“Like you aren’t into it anymore, or what?” Kon asks, tilting his head curiously. Tim tries to figure out why he’s asking, because all evidence aside “just wanting to know more about him” cannot possibly be the answer. That is just not a thing in any way whatsoever. 

“Um–no, it’s not that, I just haven’t really had . . . time, you know?” Tim says, shrugging awkwardly. Because Batman needs an emotional support sidekick and I’m the only one available who can actually put up with him for long enough to do the job isn’t gonna fly here, obviously, and because I spend what little free time I have running around with you and our teammates fighting increasingly off-the-wall and objectively insane crime. “Lately, I mean.” 

“Can I see?” Kon asks. Tim stares blankly at him. He’s wearing slacks and a button-down and yeah, obviously they’re cut and fit so he can use his full range of motion and his dress shoes are in fact resoled with a tread, but Kon doesn’t know any of that and also, like, either way they are clearly date clothes and not skate clothes. Hell, Kon’s in leather pants right now, not to mention the wool coat and boots, so–

. . . actually, Kon might know how his clothes are cut, Tim realizes. And about his shoes having a tread. Because he is much, much closer than an entire mall right now, and also they spent how long making out on a gargoyle, and–

He needs to pretend he has not realized Kon might know that much about his clothes right now. Or ever. Like–no. Just no. 

Ngh. 

“You wanna see me skate?” he asks, because he has to be misunderstanding what Kon’s asking, and Kon grins at him again. 

“Yeah!” he says. “I mean, there’s a skate shop right over there, right? I dunno, do they rent? Like, normal skates you can rent, right?” 

“I think that’s more a rink thing, probably,” Tim says, too bemused to really figure out what else to say. “I don’t know anywhere that rents boards.” 

“Oh,” Kon says, and looks a little disappointed. “Bummer.” 

“I mean, I could just buy a board, my old one needs replaced anyway,” Tim lies reflexively, and Kon immediately brightens again. 

. . . Tim has a problem, maybe. Or like–definitely. And that problem is literally everything he’d do to keep Kon from ever experiencing a single negative emotion again. His old board is perfectly fine and has literally nothing wrong with it except for the fact that it isn’t here right now, and they could just do this next date if Kon actually wants to see him skate. There’s no reason they couldn’t. 

“Awesome!” Kon says excitedly, and Tim is absolutely doomed. Completely, totally, absolutely, and entirely doomed.

[stylesloveclub]

sunshine (epilogue)

In which Harry's still grumpy, except for when he's with his sunshine girl.

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“How was it?” Maddie asks y/n, sitting in the driver’s seat of her beat up red Toyota Corolla. The engine is running as y/n climbs into the passengers side, carelessly throwing her backpack in the backseat and buckling herself up. 

“I don’t want to think about integrals ever again,” y/n responds. She’s just gotten out of her calc midterm, and she feels horrible and miserable and exhausted. Although she’d promised herself to go to sleep early last night so that she’d be alert and prepared for her exam… she actually hadn’t fallen asleep until 4 AM. She’d been twisting and turning in her bed, flipping her pillows and trying to lull herself to sleep all night, unsuccessfully. 

Thankfully the class wasn’t until noon, so she was still able to get at least five-ish hours of sleep. But she still woke up feeling like shit. Her heart had been pounding nervously all morning, and she hadn’t been able to get any food down except for three sips of some coffee she made for herself in the morning. She didn’t put any makeup on as she left for campus, only a pair of sweats and a burgundy sweatshirt… Harry’s burgundy sweatshirt. The one he’d given to her in the car when he’d driven her home. 

Now, she has a reason for wearing it! You see… it still smelled like him. And y/n somehow convinced herself that by wearing Harry’s sweatshirt (the sweatshirt that smelled like him!) she might be able to…  absorb some of his math skills? And do better on her midterm? 

She’s pulling at straws here. She still feels like she failed it. 

“Listen…” Maddie says, pulling out of the parking lot. “I need to go over to Blake’s, I left my makeup bag in his bathroom and then we’re gonna go out for lunch.”

“Okay,” y/n mumbles, not caring. She closes her eyes to try and soothe the pounding in her head. She’s gonna nap as soon as she gets into her bed. 

“Do you want me to drop you off at home first? Or… did you want to come and see Harry?” 

Y/n’s eyes flutter open. Harry. 

Maddie looks over at y/n knowingly. Y/n turns bashful. “Yeah, I’ll come and see Harry.”

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Harry looks like he’s just woken up when he opens his bedroom door for y/n.

His eyes are puffy and his curls are flat and messy. A smile immediately spreads on his face when he sees it’s y/n.

“Hey.” His voice is deep and raspy, and it’s probably the first word he’s said all day. 

“Hi,” she says, twisting her hands in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. No– his sweatshirt. 

Oh. Oops.

Harry smiles down at the burgundy sweatshirt that’s swallowed y/n’s body. 

“I– I wore it so that I could return it,” she stammers. A lie! Harry sees right through it, and finds his smirk growing even wider. 

“I like it on you,” he grins. She grows shy under his gaze, heart bubbling with that familiar feeling. The feeling of a crush. “How was the midterm?” he asks, closing the door behind himself and y/n.

He lays back down in his bed, the way he’d previously been before y/n came knocking on his door, and y/n sits down next to him. “I dunno,” she shrugs. Her eyes are downcast and dull, lacking the happy sparkle he usually searches for whenever he’s in her presence.

“I’m sure you did okay,” he says, resting a reassuring hand on her knee. “At least it’s over now!”

She nods. A certain weight had been lifted from her chest as she walked out of that lecture hall. No more studying integrals and derivatives for hours straight…

“There was this one problem,” y/n can’t help but say. “It was like… ln(x) to the power of two…”

“Do you want to write it out?” Harry asks. He knows that y/n probably won’t be able to let this midterm go until she gets all of her questions out of the way. 

With a pen and paper in hand, she messily writes the problem out, the paper tearing a little bit when she presses down too hard. “It was ln(x)^2… and i split it into ln(x)*ln(x). That’s allowed right?”

Harry nods, “Mhm. That’s what I would’ve done too. What next?”

“Um… I did a U-sub. I don’t know if that’s right though… I was running out of time and just did something so that I could get at least partial credit.” 

“A u-sub is right,” he grins.

“Really?” She blinks with wide eyes as he nods. “So… wait– tell me if I did the rest of it right.” She messily writes down what she remembers putting down on the test, then gives the paper to Harry. 

“S’good,” his dimple pops out as he smiles up at her, “It’s all right. And you didn’t forget the +C, good job!” 

“No way!” she exclaims, disbelievingly. Her hands land on Harry’s chest as she giggles triumphantly, “No freaking way I did it right! I thought I was just making math up! Oh my gosh!”

“Told you,” he laughs along with her, holding the hand that she rested on his chest. “Stop stressing out, sunshine. You studied, and now you’re done!”

There’s that name again, the one that makes her entire body tingle with happy chills. >sunshine. The sparkle in her eye is back, and Harry feels pride for being the reason she laughed. The entire world feels brighter now that she’s happy again. 

Y/n’s giggles die down slowly, and she looks down at Harry, eyes flickering between his. Her stare is intent as she chews on her lip, the remnants of her cheery smile still present in the apples of her cheeks.

Something thuds on the floor behind Harry. They both peer over the side of the bed to see what fell from his bedside table. It’s just a book… but when y/n looks closer…

“Wuthering Heights?” 

His cheeks turn pink. “Yeah…” he coughs dryly. “I um… I remember you reading it. Thought it might be nice if I picked it up, and that… we might be able to talk about it or something.” 

Her heart swells in her chest. “You’re reading Wuthering Heights?” 

“Well– trying to,” he chuckles at himself lamely. “I’m like 10 pages in.”

She wants to kiss him. She really really does. Like… he’s perfect and beautiful and kind and sweet and amazing. But… god would it be weird? After last time?

Harry pushes himself up on his elbows. He can feel the tension too. But when he inches closer to her, her eyes flicker with doubt and she looks away. 

“No,” he pleads, cupping her jaw. “Please… please don’t let it be different.” She meets his gaze again. 

“I like you,” he swallows thickly, “and I want… something with you. Whatever you want.” 

He inches upward, and this time she doesn’t pull away. Her heart races in her chest and she lets the magnetic force between them take over. 

“We’ll take it slow, at your pace…” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut. “No rush. Just trust me, please.”

She nods. She trusts him.

Their lips connect, a spark flying through y/n’s body the second she makes contact with him. It’s wonderful, better than last time, even, and she realizes the reason kissing Harry is so great is because it’s >Harry. Because she can feel how much he cares for her when he kisses her. He speaks poems with his lips when he kisses her and writes sonnets on her skin every time he touches her. He tastes like minty toothpaste, freshly washed, and his lips are so soft and sweet and gentle. 

He pulls away from her lips with a soft click, then stares up at her with hearts floating in his eyes. 

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Y/n is out of breath, huffing and puffing in front of Harry’s door and knocking like a madwoman. She ran here from her own apartment, too excited to wait and ask Maddie for a ride. She needed to see him >immediately. 

Harry opens the door with concerned eyes and furrowed eyebrows, a little bit scared. He still has his headphones on with his controller in his hands, staring down at y/n as though he just had a heart attack, “What? What is it?” 

A huge grin is plastered on her face. “Harry!” she beams. “I passed!”

“What?” he’s still confused. What did she pass? Why is she at his door?

“I got a 77% on the midterm!” she squeals, jumping up and down in her place. 

His eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face. “Yes!” he cheers. He pulls the headphones off of his ears and hangs them around his neck, just in time for when y/n wraps her arms around him. He’s taken aback, stumbling a few steps backwards from how hard she pummeled into him, but easily steadies himself and wraps his arms around her back. He hugs her so tight that her feet leave the ground, and she’s laughing in his ear sweetly.

“I can’t believe it!!!” she says, her hands on his shoulders as he puts her back down on the ground. Her eyes glimmer with the shine that he adores so much, and it makes him grin even harder. His dimple pops out, a rare sighting for anyone else except for y/n these days. 

He kisses her without a second thought.

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The scene is all too familiar. Harry, sitting at a party with his eyebrows furrowed grumpily. His friends are sitting around him, laughing and chattering, but Harry says nothing. He takes a bored sip from the jungle juice in his hand. Three girls have approached him tonight, batting their eyes up at him and biting their lips teasingly, but he’s brushed them off without so much of a glance. He’s not interested in the slightest.

He looks around himself, eyes searching for a certain someone, and he sighs to himself. She’s still not here. His pout grows more prominent, and he whips out his phone. He does not care for anyone at this party, and though his friends are fun and all… they’re having a weird conversation about Elon Musk that he doesn’t want to even listen to.

He huffs. He stares at the last text he received, 19 minutes ago.

sunshine: omw!! be there in 15 :)

She’s 4 minutes late, he pouts. It’s probably Maddie’s fault.

A firm poke is pressed to his forehead. “Hey grumpy.” His heart jumps as he recognizes the sweet sunshine angel voice speaking to him. 

“Sunshine,” he coos, the furrow his brow immediately melting into a soft smile. He holds a hand out for her, which she immediately takes. She has a soft smile on her face, her eyes kind and warm and gentle, the LED party lights haloing around her head and making her look like a fairy. “Missed you.”

He pulls her down into his lap, her butt comfortably sat on his thighs, and nuzzles his face into her neck, trying to get as close to her as possible. A content hum rumbles through his chest now that he’s surrounded by her scent, his pretty girlfriend in his lap, drowning out all the other people at the party. She giggles cutely when his curls tickle her chin, simultaneously trying to escape the kisses he’s pressing to her sensitive throat while also wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“Watcha drinking?” she asks. 

He offers her his drink, “dunno.” She grimaces as she takes a sip, and he imitates her grossed out face. “Yucky, isn’t it?”

She gets the drink as far away as possible from herself. “Gross.” 

He chuckles. She’s so beyond cute, her cheeks so soft and biteable as she scrunches her nose. One of his hands is on her back, holding her upright, while the other one rests on her thigh comfortably. His fingers on her back find the ends of her hair and start twisting them, playing with the soft strands and curling them around his fingers, while his fingers on her thigh trace up and down and up and down. Goosebumps rise along the path of his fingers, and it makes him smile. She’s so reactive to every single one of his touches… he wants to have his hands on her 24/7.

If she wasn’t so shy and sweet and innocent, he’d start kissing her pretty, glossed up lips right here and now, even with all of their friends sitting around them. He’s obsessed with her! Obsessed with kissing her all the time and teaching her all the secrets of intimacy. But he knows she’d probably get bashful and embarrassed with that much PDA (even getting her to sit in his lap took a bit of coaxing at the beginning), so he settles for pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re so cute,” he murmurs to her, resting his head on her shoulder. Is it too early for them to leave this party and to his room? He’d love to be snuggled up in bed with her… have her read to him a little bit while he plays with her hair… yeah that sounds nice.

“M’gonna go get a juice box from the fridge,” she whispers (his fridge is stocked with juice just for her). He whine when she pulls away, looking up at her with big pleading puppy dog eyes, begging her not to leave him when he’s just gotten her, but she pecks his cheek with a dismissive kiss. “Do you want one too?”

“No,” he pouts. “I’ll just have some of yours, if that’s okay?”

She squints her eyes at him, “you get two sips, and that’s it.” 

He shrugs with a teasing smile. “M’kay.” He resists the urge to pat her ass as she walks away (that’s for when they’re alone in his room).

He’s stuck in a lovey dovey lavender haze as he watches her get swept away by a group of her girlfriends, smiling to himself fondly as they all giggle and look towards Harry mischievously. He knows she’s probably getting grilled about how little miss sunshine finally got a boyfriend! 

A shove from Blake jostles him out of his daydream. “Who are you?” Blake snickers. All of his friends are staring at him too. Nobody has ever, ever seen grumpy Harry be so soft with anyone. Kissing her cheek and cuddling into her neck and whining like a love-struck puppy… it’s funny. 

Harry rolls his eyes and tells his friends to fuck off, trying to furrow his brows and look all serious again. But his heart flutters happily in his chest, and those pretty dimples dent his cheek. 

He can’t be very grumpy when his sunshine girl is skipping back to him, juice box in hand as she settles back down on his lap. 

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

perfect ending for my fav story:( TELL ME WHAT BLURBS U WANNA SEE!!!! MANY MANY BLURBS TO COME BC I LOVE THIS STORY:(

sunshine masterlist

[ourfag]

stede as he enters the room: ooh what are you making can i see

ed, who’s excited about the new recipe he’s trying tonight, with the intent of saying “i’m putting together a miso glaze to go over the fish” but his mouth isn’t hooked all the way up to his brain right now because he’s concentrating on getting the glaze right: i’m a fish!

stede:

ed:

stede: :D

stede: nice! can i be a fish?

ed: yeah you wanna be saltwater or freshwater?

stede: um… what are the options for freshwater fish? i’m blanking

ed, putting down the miso glaze for a minute: uhhh….. well you got trout,

stede, thinking:

ed, thinking:

stede: or i could just stick—

ed: salmon, if you’re horny

stede: —might just stick with saltwater

ed: yeah let’s go with saltwater

stede: i think i could be an eel. that’s fun!

ed: oh you don’t wanna…? kinda figured you’d go for something flashier

stede: there’s plenty of flashy eels. blue ones, green ones,

ed: thought maybe you’d—like, maybe a clownfish? cuz the symbiosis, you’re a symbiotic guy

stede: maybe. could be! but then i’d—well, what kind of fish are you?

ed: i dunno, hadn’t thought about it. shark?

stede: ooh, that’s quite a difference in size, though. are you gonna eat me?

ed: no, fuck no, i’m gonna—we’re gonna hang out.

stede: but there’s—

ed: couple of fish.

stede: —if i’m symbioting with the anemone, i’m all hidden inside of it, you’re gonna get zapped!

ed: so symbiotate with me instead.

stede: well…it’s a tempting offer, but i’m not sure—

ed: babe i could give you so much more than that anemone. come and hide in my tentacles, c’mon.

stede: i thought you were a shark?

ed: i’m a new kind of shark.

stede: oh i see

ed: they just rolled me out earlier this week. i’m limited edition

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,988 Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language, innuendo (duh, it's Negan), injury, fear and anxiety, frightening scenarios Summary: Returning after the run, Daryl gives Negan a talking to and things between Negan and the reader seem like they may have changed. A/N: oh shit, oh sHIT, OH SHIT Previous part

“Well, here we are again,” you sighed, tugging open the door of Negan’s cell.

“Home, sweet home,” he quipped, staring inside. He rubbed a hand over his short hair briefly, hesitating only for a moment before he stepped inside and turned to stand in the space where the door would soon close. “Can’t exactly say I’m glad to be back.”

You had your own mixed feelings again as you shut the door and the thunk of the heavy metal latch slid into place, securely locking him inside. What would be required for him to truly earn the next step of more freedom? He’d stayed when he could have run. Surely that was something, but uncertainty churned in your stomach. You paused, one of your hands coming to grip one of the bars. You could almost taste the tension like smoke in the air. “I—I just wanted to say—”

“—that you had a fucking amazing time out there with me and you’re completely heartbroken to see it end?” he interrupted, smiling at you. “Oh, and you regret not jumpin’ my bones while you had the chance, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling a little yourself. “I wanted to say thank you. I’m fully aware that the entire situation could’ve been—you could’ve made it much worse. You could’ve left. Hell, you could’ve probably killed me if you wanted to…”

Negan’s expression grew serious. “Like I said before, I don’t want to hurt you. And I have no intention of doing so.”

“Negan, if it came down to me or your freedom—”

“I wouldn’t,” he said strongly. “I already chose to stay, didn’t I? I’m—not even entirely sure why myself,” he laughed dryly. “Might regret that when I’m staring at these same four fuckin’ walls again in a few minutes.”

You felt your cheeks warm with an inexplicable flush again and you had to break the gaze between the two of you. “Well,” you said, dropping your grip on the bar, “thank you, Negan.”

He couldn’t help smiling when you said his name and he leaned forward on the bars now himself at the same moment you drew back. “Have I told you that I love the sound of my name leaving your lips, darlin’? Say it again,” he grinned. “I’m gonna imagine all kinds of scenarios in my head where you’re sayin’ my name as soon as you’re out of here…”

“Stop,” you reprimanded him.

“Aw, come on! You’ve gotta give me a little play here. Was I not a total gentleman on the outside? I kept my hands completely to myself on our dinner date.”

“Dinner date? That’s what you’re going to call heating up MREs while we were trapped in a basement with a mummified dead guy?”

He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face, chuckling a little. “Yeah! It seems pretty on-brand for the apocalypse. And by the way—don’t think I wasn’t tempted to get a little handsy. You were wearing my spare layer after all, and it’s only natural that I thought about what it’d be like to take it off of you and keep going.”

“Enough, Negan!” you snapped, completely aware that your face had to be bright red from the feeling of the heat washing over you. “Jesus!”

“Too far?” he asked, still grinning.

You ignored him. “Daryl is gonna bring you lunch.”

“Daryl? Wait—why?”

You were already heading toward the door but you turned to look back at him, continuing your progress out with a few backwards steps. You shrugged. “Dunno. He said he wanted a word with you.”

Negan swore under his breath. “Shit… He’s probably gonna give me another lecture.”

You smiled and shrugged. “Probably. I’d behave if I were you, if you ever hope to see four different walls again. I’ll see you this evening.”

“Hey! Wait!” he called after you once more as your hand was on the door. “You should go get that hand looked at. Even if they can’t stitch it, you should make sure it’s not infected! I mean look at the state of the bandage, doll.”

You did glance down at it and it was grey with dirt and dust. “Yeah, alright. I will. I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

It wasn’t long before Daryl came thudding into the room with a tray for Negan. Negan looked up from his seat on his cot and rested his book (one of the ones you’d brought for him) over his knee.

The archer put the tray down and kicked it through the slot a little abruptly, sloshing some of the water out of the cup. Negan cast his eyes up toward Daryl’s scowl. He saw the muscle in his jaw tense. He couldn’t help smiling at him. “Problem?” he asked.

“Might be,” Daryl drawled, crossing his arms, “if ya ain’t careful.”

“Oh, I’m always careful, Daryl,” Negan said, leaning back as if at his ease.

“I saw the way ya were lookin’ at Y/N out there today.”

The smile on Negan’s face faded slowly. “How was I looking?”

“You know how and I know how,” Daryl growled, pointing at him emphatically through the bars.

Negan shrugged and tried to play it off, but his heart was hammering nervously in his chest.

“I dunno what happened out there or what you think is happenin’ with Y/N, but ya better watch yerself, asswipe. If I hear of the slightest thing that’s off, if I suspect any of this ‘good behavior’ shit is an act, tha’s it. It’ll be the end of all your free time outside of these bars. Ya can rot in here for all I care. Ain’t like ya dun deserve to. And if I find out that yer tryin’ to pull some bullshit over on Y/N, if yer tryin’ to manipulate yer way outta this cell—I’ll kill ya myself.” His blue eyes were fierce and sharp and Negan gulped uneasily beneath them.

“Daryl—”

“Nah,” he snapped. “I dun give a shit about a thing ya gotta say. ‘M just warnin’ ya, Negan. Got it?”

Negan licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Oh, I’ve got it hotrod,” he said, following it up with a smirk, just to annoy Daryl.

“Good.” And he stalked out.

The day got away from you, mainly from sorting through the supplies, helping with the rationing, and getting yourself cleaned up after the long ordeal outside the walls and a little better rested. It was already evening before you remembered you’d meant to stop into the clinic about your hand. Anyone in the clinic surely would have left for the night already, and since it wasn’t a pressing issue, you decided instead to change the dressing yourself and check in with Siddiq in the morning.

Instead, you got a tray of food ready and headed back down the dim street toward the jail. When the door swung open you saw Negan standing at the small window of his cell, trying to perhaps soak in the last bit of light as the sun went down. He had his small lantern lit already and it cast everything in a warm orange glow. He turned at the sound of your footsteps and greeted you with a small smile before ambling over toward the cell door, hands in his pockets.

“You alright?” you asked, sensing something in the air.

“Peachy, doll,” he said. “Daryl and I had a swell chat earlier.”

You sighed heavily and gave him an apologetic look. “I hope he wasn’t too tough on you. I told him you were a huge help outside the walls.”

“Oh, he just threatened to kill me again is all,” Negan said, sinking down on the floor close to the door, fiddling with the empty water cup on the tray. “No big deal.”

You set his full dinner tray down on the chair beside you and copied his position on the floor outside the bars. “He’s—just protective. We’ve been through a lot together.”

Negan chuckled. “Protective is an understatement,” he said, scratching at his beard thoughtfully, leaning back with his palms on the cold floor. “I can’t blame him though. A guy like me with a history like mine? I probably deserve more than a little threatening.”

You gulped, feeling torn about agreeing with him or not, so you stayed silent. That divided feeling that sat somewhere deep in your chest was becoming familiar. There was a beat of silence and Negan could read worry on your face. He wanted to pull you out of it.

“Hey—you look great, doll,” he said softly. It was almost a whisper.

You glanced up at him, one of your eyebrows arching up in a question. Then you glanced down at yourself and laughed. “I showered and changed into clean clothes. It’s not like I’m in a ballgown, Negan.”

“You don’t need to be. I’d take you covered in walker guts if the opportunity presented itself,” he said with a grin.

You winced. “Gross,” you retorted. “I think you have issues.”

“Unequivocally,” he agreed. “Doesn’t mean what I said isn’t true.”

You shook your head and sighed a little. Over his shoulder, you noticed the book sitting open on his cot. “Which one did you go for?” you asked, nodding toward it.

“Oh, the western, of course. Cowboys and damsels in distress? Shoot-outs? ‘This town ain’t big enough for the both of us?’ Fuck yeah,” he said, glancing back at you, still smiling. “Thanks again, for bringing me those by the way. It’s a big improvement over the one I’ve read fifteen fuckin’ times.”

You hated that you noticed the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled and the deep dimples in his cheeks, nearly hidden in the scruff of his beard. You ducked your head, nodding and trying to clear your throat of the inexplicable tightness that had materialized there. “No problem.” Your eyes landed again on the lunch tray sitting by the slot. You were about to reach for it when you caught sight of the pebbly red shapes still on the plate. You frowned. “You didn’t touch your raspberries,” you said, nodding toward the tray in front of Negan.

“Yeah, actually, I saved them for you,” he said, nodding toward them. “You said they’re your favorite and since the crop was bad this year from the drought... you should have them. You deserve them more than me.” He nudged his tray slightly back toward the slot so you’d be able to reach them if you slipped your hand through.

You looked at him curiously for a moment, a little surprised by this particular consideration, and then reached your hand through to grab one. Before your fingers could touch the ruby red fruit, you let out a small gasp of surprise as Negan’s hand closed softly around yours. He hadn’t moved quickly. On the contrary, it was slow and fluid but you were somehow still shocked by the sudden contact. His touch was warm and gentle. His thumb smoothed over the back of your hand and slipped underneath to your palm. He turned your hand palm up so it rested in his and his thumb traced the lines from your wrist up toward your fingertips then drifted back down and pressed lightly into the concave center of your palm and ghosted up the graceful shape of your thumb. You were frozen, stunned by his touch, your lips slightly parted and your eyes a little wide, a little hesitant and questioning. You felt as if your heart had stopped and your lungs refused to work. You were finally able to tear your eyes from your hand in his, back up to meet his gaze. His expression, his hazel eyes were astonishingly soft.

“‘M sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to startle you. I couldn’t help myself,” he whispered, drawing his hand back from yours. His eyes searched yours, trying to read what you were thinking. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that since I bandaged up that other hand of yours. You have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve really had any human touch?” Your hand hovered in the air for a moment once his fingers left, and Negan picked up the remaining berries and dropped them into your palm. Your skin was still tingling from the contact and you couldn’t be sure if your heart was beating or not.

You blinked, trying to break whatever spell had settled over you, and then hurriedly grabbed his empty tray and got to your feet, nearly stumbling back from the bars.

Negan rose slowly, watching you carefully, suddenly anxious. “You alright, doll? Was that—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off quickly. “I just—I should go,” you said hastily. You grabbed the tray with his evening meal off the chair beside you and pushed it through the slot where it hit the toes of Negan’s boots.

He nodded, his eyes narrowed as he tried to read what was going on in your head. “Okay. Hey—before you go, what’d the doc say about your sliced up hand anyway?”

“Oh, uhh—I didn’t get over there today. Just—got busy. I’ll go by in the morning,” you said, already backing out toward the door.

Negan nodded. You looked half-frantic and he felt another pang of anxiety. Perhaps that had been too much… “Y/N—Look, I’m sorry if that was—”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m fine! It’s all fine,” you said hurriedly, your heart racing now. You felt slightly light-headed.

“Are you sure? Because I think you turned those raspberries into jam,” Negan said, glancing down at your hand and there was red juice dripping out between your fingers and dotting the floor. In the low light, you could’ve mistaken it for blood.

“Shit,” you swore, looking at the remnants in your hand. “Fuck me, what a mess… I—I’ll clean that up… later.”

Negan watched, perplexed and worried as you hurriedly left without another word, his brow furrowed heavily over his hazel eyes. Fuck. Had he royally fucked up? Maybe he’d be seeing Daryl sooner rather than later…

_ _ _ _ _ _

You’d hardly slept. You were overwhelmed by what you’d felt when Negan had simply held your hand in his, had run his fingers over the underside of your wrist and across the back of your hand. Your stomach was churning and you were unsettled all night, tossing and turning on your mattress and staring up at the ceiling watching the shadows change while sleep evaded you.

Fuck. This was a mess. What the fuck were you thinking? No—better question: what the fuck were you feeling? This was Negan. The man who had psychologically tormented your entire group, who had wielded the bat and murdered two of your beloved family members in front of you, who had tortured Daryl and nearly starved your community, who had ordered his men to shoot your people with poisoned arrowd.

But another voice answered. He’s not the same though, is he? He’s not him. Not anymore. You know he’s different.

It doesn’t matter. He still did all those things.

It does matter. Or do you not believe in redemption? In rehabilitation? In hope? If there’s no chance of redemption, shouldn’t you all have just killed him after the war? Why keep him alive now if there’s no future for him even if he is changed?

Fuck!

You kicked the covers off and rubbed your hands over your face as you sat up on the edge of the bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You looked down at the bandage on your hand and remembered his concern outside the walls, not just for himself but for you. And he stayed. Surely that meant something.

Fuck.

You headed into the bathroom and poured some water into the basin, splashing it as best you could over your face with your uninjured hand. Better just start the day. Sleep wasn’t coming. You just needed to put what you felt, whatever that was that you felt, aside and do your job. Compartmentalize. You could do that. Right? You were wracked with self-doubt. Maybe you should stop before this went any farther… Maybe you should go back to Michonne and Daryl and tell them—tell them… what? That you somehow were developing feelings for Negan? Fuck. No. No, you couldn’t do that. You could handle this. It wasn’t a big deal. It was one touch. You could compartmentalize. It’d all be fine…

Your train of thought was interrupted by a throbbing in your injured hand and you were grateful it gave you something else to focus on. Right. You’d better get it checked out. You pulled on some clothes and headed for the clinic.

The door was unlocked, which was a good sign that at least someone was in. You heard movement from the back as you walked in and Dante called out, “I’ll be right there!” from somewhere among the supply shelves.

You paced around for a moment and finally settled against a nearby exam table. He came breezing out in his white coat with a clipboard in his hand and greeted you with a smile.

“Sorry about that! Inventory, you know? Still my least favorite chore, but pretty important nowadays. So, what brings you in?”

“Oh, um, is Siddiq here by chance?” you asked. You knew Siddiq well from the council and generally were more comfortable with him.

Dante clicked his tongue. “He’s not in yet. Between the two of us, I’m the earlier riser so I usually come in first. Must be left over from my time in the military,” he explained with a good-natured smile. “If you’d like to come back later today, he’ll be in for sure. Otherwise, I’m happy to help now if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s no big deal. We’re just close from the council and everything. Thought I’d say hi. I’d rather just get it looked at, I guess. It’s just this gash on my hand from the run the other day and I just figured I should get it checked out and make sure it’s not infected or anything.”

“Alright,” he said, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. “Let’s take a look.” You started to unwrap the bandage as he set out a few items. “What’d you cut it on?” he asked.

“A sharp corner or something on a metal bracket,” you said.

“Oof,” he said, peeling off the last bit of gauze as the injury came into view. “Got yourself pretty good there! Well, let’s clean it up and have a look. This may sting a bit.”

“We flushed it out and cleaned it after it happened. It did take a while for it to stop bleeding. I was worried it'd need stitches.”

“I’m not surprised! It’s pretty deep!” he said, tossing aside the used alcohol swabs. “Any pain still? I mean, when you aren’t bumping it or trying to use this hand?” he asked, giving you a knowing look.

You shrugged. “Maybe a bit. It’s throbbing a little this morning. It’s not infected, is it?”

He examined it more closely and finally sighed and shook his head. “I don't think you have an infection, no, but it does look a little inflamed and irritated. You should be taking it easy with this,” he instructed you. “Try to limit use while it’s healing. And I’m gonna give you some anti-inflammatory pain meds that should help with any discomfort and the swelling—”

“Oh, no. Really, it’s not bad. I’m fine,” you tried to argue.

He smiled and shook his head. “Always having to act like a badass, Y/N. You and Daryl! Never taking medical advice,” he laughed. “Come on. Doctor’s orders,” he said. “I’ll be right back with them. Trust me. It’ll help.” He returned quickly with a cup of water and a couple pills for you.

You relented, seeing that he was going to insist, and took them before he re-dressed your hand.

“Big plans today?” he asked, skillfully finishing the bandaging with clean dressings.

You shook your head. “No. The usual. I need to head over to get Negan’s breakfast to him.”

“Good. That shouldn’t be too strenuous on the hand,” he laughed. “Alright. All finished up. Do you want me to let Siddiq know you were looking for him?” he asked, pulling off his gloves.

You waved him off. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other soon. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. And I mean it, take it easy with that hand! Let it heal up! Come back and see me if you have any more problems.” You waved goodbye to Dante and thanked him once more before you left. Alexandria was just starting to wake up, and you headed to grab a few things from the pantry and prepared something to take down to Negan. You wondered if he was even awake yet. He hadn’t slept while you’d been outside the walls. He might be sleeping still. Maybe you should wait… The sun was just streaking the morning sky with pinks and oranges. Your stomach flipped as you again thought of what had happened last night and you did your best to swallow down your anxiety. Were you just trying to postpone seeing him? You groaned internally at yourself.

Fuck it. What did it matter if he was awake or not? You had his damn breakfast ready you might as well just drop it off.

You unlocked the outside door and pushed inside. Turns out, he was already awake, laying on his back on his cot and bouncing a tennis ball off the wall and catching it on the rebound. He sat up hastily as you came in and looked at you hesitantly, like he was trying to read your expression carefully.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you returned. You set the full tray down on the chair outside his cell and retrieved the one sitting empty from the night before. Negan got up and slowly wandered toward the bars, tossing the tennis ball back and forth between his hands. You swapped out the empty tray for the one with his breakfast on it and straightened up, surprised to see him maybe a little over a mere foot from you, separated only by the bars. His eyes were flickering over your face and his expression was heavy and serious. You cleared your throat and gulped. “What?” you asked nervously.

“I just wanted to say—about last night—”

You lifted a hand to cut him off. “Negan—”

“—if that was too much or too sudden or—I’m sorry if—”

“Negan, let’s just forget about it,” you said, crossing your arms and avoiding his brilliantly hazel eyes.

He stopped trying to talk over you and licked his lips, pursing them thoughtfully for a moment. Your posture was guarded, but he forged ahead anyway. “Is that what you want? To forget about it?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Is that what you want?” he asked again.

Just answer. Why couldn’t you get the answer out. Just say ‘yes.’ “I—”

His eyes were still flickering between yours and then journeying down to your lips. Your heart started to pound in your chest. “It’s just a simple question, doll. If that’s what you want—” he shrugged, “then we’ll forget about it.”

You were trying to answer, trying to dredge up a response when you suddenly felt dizzy and lifted a hand to your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You felt sick. You felt off. Something wasn’t right.

“…Doll?”

You reached out to grip one of the bars of Negan’s cell to steady yourself. It felt like the floor was slanting.

“Hey, hey—look at me, darlin’. What’s going on?”

You shook your head in an attempt to clear the growing fog. “I—I don’t know. I feel—dizzy and—”

Negan’s alarm increased as all the color seemed to drain from your face in an instant. “Hey, why don’t you sit down? You don’t look so good. Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Negan’s voice sounded like it was coming out of a drain in another room. It was warped and muffled and your equilibrium seemed to have all but disappeared. You were having a hard time keeping your eyes open and staying on your feet. The whole room was tilting.

“Hey! Y/N? Talk to me! Can you hear me? Sit down! You look like you’re about to faint! Look at me, darlin’!”

But Negan watched with horror as your body suddenly went limp and you pitched forward. He did what he could to try to stop your fall through the bars, but there wasn’t much he could do. He was in no position to be able to support you as you fell. Despite his best efforts, your head collided with a bar near the bottom of his cell and then you lay still on your stomach, crumpled on the floor.

“Oh, fuck! Shit! Y/N?” Negan shoved his tray out of the way and knelt down, reaching through the bars to caress your hair away from your face and lightly pat your cheek in an attempt to rouse you. “Y/N, you’ve gotta wake up, doll! Come on! Wake up! Open those beautiful eyes and look at me!” He gently lifted your head and his stomach clenched as he saw blood running down the side of your face and dripping onto the floor. “Open your eyes, darlin’! Look at me! Come on!” There was no response from you, no sign that you could hear him or were at all coming back to consciousness. “Fuck! Fuck!!” he growled, panicked, looking around for something to help—but how could he? He was locked in a fucking cell.

That’s it! Keys! You had to have your keys! Maybe he could get them and get out and help you—get you to help. He was about to start patting your pockets when he caught sight of them out of the corner of his eye sitting on the seat of the chair outside his cell, well out of reach.

“Fuck!” He hung his head, his mind spinning frantically. “Y/N? Come on, you’ve gotta wake up!” He gently shook you by your shoulder, but still, you didn’t rouse. He trained his eyes on your back and could at least see that your breathing seemed steady, if a little shallow. He was afraid to move you too much. He rushed to the small window. “HEY! HELP! WE NEED HELP IN HERE!” he roared as loud as he could, banging on the glass, but unless someone happened to walk by, there was little hope of anyone hearing him through the thick pane. The window was shut and locked up tightly. “FUCK!”

“Okay… Okay,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Keys. I have to get the keys… what can I—what can I use?” He stood and searched his cell. He had nothing. He had nothing that could reach… He needed something long enough to reach the chair and it wasn’t like he had a walking stick or wire hangers or even a goddamn belt in his cell. His eyes finally settled on his cot. He quickly snatched the wool blanket off the top and ran back to the bars. He extended his arm out between two of the bars as far as he could and flipped the blanket up onto the seat of the chair. It landed on his empty evening tray which you’d set aside there. He pulled back slowly and the tray moved slightly before the blanket slid off. The keys were still sitting behind the tray near the back edge of the seat. He had to be careful not to knock them off the back… if he did, it’d be completely hopeless.

He tried again with the blanket, frantically. And again. And again. And, finally, the tray fell to the floor with a clatter, but your heavy ring of keys was sitting stubbornly still.

He constantly stopped and checked on you, called your name, smoothed his hand over your hair, and tried to wake you. But you stayed totally still, unconscious. He grabbed another blanket off his bed and cushioned your head but was too afraid to try to move you much more.

He returned to the wool blanket and had just flicked it onto the chair again when the outside door pushed in. Negan froze and looked up at the figure that had just entered. At first, he felt a wash of relief. “Hey—doc! You’ve gotta help her. She just collapsed—fainted or something,” he said, straightening up. “It wasn’t me, I swear. I don't know what the hell happened.” He dropped his blanket by his side and gripped onto the bars, his voice and expression urgent.

But Dante didn’t rush into action. Instead, he stared down at your crumpled figure on the floor and then casually checked the time on his watch. Negan looked on, confused, as Dante smiled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Negan demanded. "You're suppose to help her!"

“She’s right on time,” Dante said, casually pacing forward to stand over you.

Negan’s teeth clenched together. “Aren’t you going to help her?!” he asked, incredulous.

Dante only laughed, a chilling sound, and walked over to the chair, scooping up your ring of keys off the seat. “Were you trying for these?” he asked, jingling them at Negan.

Negan stared back, a heavy shadow falling over his face. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I was.”

[isak-dot-gov]

Always within reach

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Short!eader

Word count: 1021

Based on this request

My masterlist :)

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Life with Nika was full of laughter, and today was no different. The kitchen was alive with the aroma of dinner cooking on the stove, soft music playing in the background, and the gentle clinking of utensils as you tried to finish up a recipe. You stood on your tiptoes, determined to reach the jar of spices on the top shelf of the cupboard. Your fingers barely grazed the glass, but despite your best efforts, it remained stubbornly out of reach.

You let out a huff of frustration, planting your feet back on the floor and staring up at the jar as if sheer willpower might bring it down. No such luck. After a moment, you gave in and called out, “Baby! Can you help me for a sec?”

Nika appeared in the doorway almost instantly, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. A smirk was already forming on her lips as she took in the scene—her much shorter girlfriend, staring helplessly up at a jar far beyond her reach. She leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. “Need a hand, shorty?” she teased, her voice dripping with playful amusement.

You rolled your eyes at her, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Yes, obviously,” you replied, your tone exasperated but light. “Or you can just keep standing there making fun of me.”

Nika chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna do both,” she said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling over to you. She reached up effortlessly, her long arm making it look ridiculously easy as she grabbed the jar with a single hand. But instead of handing it to you right away, she held it just out of your reach, her grin widening with every second.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, crossing your arms over your chest. “Seriously?” you asked, your voice half-amused, half-exasperated. “What’s it gonna take to get my jar back?”

Nika tilted her head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… I dunno. What’s the magic word?”

You sighed dramatically, knowing exactly where this was going. “Please?” you said, your tone as innocent as you could manage.

She raised an eyebrow, giving you a mock-thoughtful look. “I think I need to hear it with more enthusiasm, bebo.”

You stared at her for a moment, trying not to laugh, and then you gave in. “Pretty please, Nika? My tall, amazing girlfriend, who I’m so lucky to have around to help me reach high places?”

Nika burst out laughing, clearly pleased with your over-the-top flattery. “Much better,” she said with a grin, finally handing you the jar. As she did, she leaned down to give you a quick kiss on the forehead, her voice softening as she added, “You know, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

You smiled up at her, setting the jar on the counter and shaking your head. “And you’re lucky you’re tall. Otherwise, I’d never let you live down not being able to reach anything either.”

Nika grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “True, but then who’d get to tease you all the time? You keep me entertained, pretty girl.”

You playfully elbowed her in the side, though it was clear from your expression that you didn’t mind the teasing. It was part of what made your relationship with Nika so special—her playful nature, the way she could turn any situation into something lighthearted and fun. She might have teased you endlessly about your height, but you knew that deep down, she loved being the one to help you. It was her way of showing affection, wrapped up in her unique sense of humour.

“Next time,” you said, feigning seriousness as you turned back to the counter, “I’m getting a step stool.”

Nika chuckled, planting a kiss on your cheek as she lingered close. “You do that, but I’m still gonna make fun of you.”

You leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder as you felt the warmth of her presence wrap around you. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you murmured, your voice soft with affection.

Nika smiled down at you, squeezing you a little tighter as she kissed the top of your head. “Me neither, shorty. Me neither.”

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, wrapped in the comfortable silence that only comes from knowing someone so well. The teasing, the banter—it was all part of the rhythm you had created together. Nika’s playful jabs about your height had become a kind of love language between the two of you, a way to express affection without ever having to say the words.

Later that evening, after dinner had been eaten and the kitchen cleaned, you found yourselves curled up on the couch together. Nika had her arm draped over your shoulders, and you were nestled into her side, feeling completely at ease. The TV played softly in the background, but neither of you were really paying attention to it. Instead, you were just enjoying the quiet, content in each other’s presence.

At one point, Nika glanced down at you with a mischievous grin. “Hey, bebo,” she said, her tone light and teasing. “What’s it like down there? You know, from your shorter perspective?”

You laughed, gently swatting her arm. “Oh, you’re hilarious,” you replied, though there was no real bite to your words. “Shouldn’t you be the one asking for my perspective? I’ve got a better view of the important things—like all the dust you miss when you’re too busy looking up at the world.”

Nika’s laughter echoed through the room as she pulled you even closer, her voice warm and full of affection. “Alright, alright. You win this round, shorty.”

You smiled, snuggling deeper into her embrace. Moments like this—filled with laughter, teasing, and love—were what made your relationship with Nika so special. And no matter how much she teased you about your height, you knew that, at the end of the day, you were exactly where you were meant to be—right by her side, always within reach.

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Isak speaks: I know a Nika edit hates to see me coming