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fictionalsweethearts · 20 hours ago

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THE COMMISSION PT. 3 | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

You can find part one here. Part two here.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn baby 💋, several parts btw

Word count: 4,345

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

After that episode, Sevika stopped your supply of Shimmer and threatened any dealers that she would rip out their tongues and eyes if they dared to sell you, so the following week you found yourself in enforced sobriety.

You were adding the finishing touches to the strap, Sevika wanted it to be comfortable and aesthetically pleasing, so that was what you did. The straps were made of fine leather, secured with adjustable snaps. However, it was the long, veiny phallus that was the star of the piece, provided with texture and a purple color, quite similar to Shimmer. On the back, there was a small compartment with the dose of Shimmer, interconnected with the rest of the piece and the wearer, making the strap a dynamic, vibrant piece and certainly better than any other made of plastic or silicone. This one was “alive” so to speak, and designed so that the thrusts would release small bursts of Shimmer into the wearer’s bloodstream, causing as much pleasure as the one receiving it. One of your best pieces, you put a lot of pride into it and it cost you two sleepless nights and delaying other orders to give this one your full attention.

You made your way through the crowd. For a couple of weeks now, The Last Drop has been more crowded, the good sales of shimmer and the economic bonanza it brought made people look for a place to dance, drink more and bet their money in games that Sevika usually won.

Sevika.

You saw her at the back of the club, just like a few weeks ago when you went to her to check her arm and receive the commission you now had ready and kept in a box. She was focused on her cards, a cigarette between her lips and a couple of opponents with pursed lips sitting before her.

"Am I bothering?" you asked once you approached.

"Silco isn't taking guests." she muttered, without taking her eyes off the cards.

"I'm not here to see Silco." you said with a smirk before Sevika realized it was you.

She looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. You looked… good. Rested, healthy, and more beautiful than ever. It was a striking difference from the last time she had seen you, and it made her feel more confident than ever about her decision to take away your Shimmer supply.

"Well, hello yourself." she said, raising a brow. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Merry early Christmas." you teased, placing the box on the table. "Commission done."

She smiled, taking one last glance at her cards before folding and placing them face down. Her opponents grumbled as they laid down their own and counted up their chips, which Sevika quickly started sliding towards her. She picked up the box, feeling the weight of it in her hands. "Finally. Took you long enough."

"Quality takes time." you smirked, leaning to take a sip of Sevika's glass. The woman lifted the lid to peek inside, knowing she had to take a better look of the product in private.

"Continue without me, boys." Sevika said, quitting the game in order to stand up and head to her office with you.

The other players grumbled in annoyance as Sevika stood up, but their protests died out as Sevika glowered at them.

"If I come back and see you've touched my chips, I'll make sure you lose a few fingers." Sevika warned, her voice dripping with malice.

They entered a dimly lit office, the smell of wood and tobacco welcoming you as soon as you set foot inside. There was a coffee table in the center, on it a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses, in front of it a vermilion sofa darkened by age and the ashes of hundreds of cigarettes. The office was undeniably Sevika's, she was a sober woman and the room showed it, however you always liked the small jar painted in gold and blue paint, which used to keep mint candies for the breath. The truth is that you tended to eat them yourself and force Sevika to buy more.

"How is Silas?" you asked as you entered, following Sevika. "Did his dick fall off?"

"No, but it's probably the only thing still functional about him." She replied, shutting the door behind her.

She walked over to the coffee table, dropping the box on it before turning her attention to the bottle of whiskey. She poured two glasses before passing one to you.

"Here." She said. "You look like you could use a drink."

"Indeed." you agreed, taking the glass between your fingers. "Booze seems an alternative, since someone put me on forced sobriety."

“Yeah, I’m not sorry about that.” She muttered, taking a sip of her drink. “You were out of control.”

She walked over to the sofa, taking a seat and gesturing for you to do the same. “Now, though,” she said, her voice a hint softer, “you do look better, I have to admit.”

"I look tired." you grumbled. "You know how hard is to work sober? I can't barely make the half of orders I used to finish in a day."

"You look gorgeous when you're tired." She observed, her voice low and full of innuendo. She took another sip from her drink, leaning back into the sofa. "And as for your orders, I don't care if you have to hire a damn army to finish them. You're not touching Shimmer again until I say so."

Sevika changed the subject so quickly that you couldn't comment on her casual compliment. Her eyes didn't betray the way she looked at you, nor the thoughts that had been running through her mind since she asked you for such a commission. She was sweet on you but her demeanor masked it well. "The workshop's rent is getting higher by the month." you said then. "I cannot afford working any less."

"I'll cover the rent," she offered, her voice gruff. "You just focus on your work."

The speed with which she resolved the issue struck you as comical, Sevika seemed convinced enough of the quality of your work to become your financier. You huffed. "Are you into charity now?"

"Charity? Hardly." She replied, her voice dry. "I prefer to think of it as an investment. You're an investment."

She paused to look at you, the way you traced the rim of the glass with your finger, your exposed shoulders, the softness of your neck, your cheekbones visibly more flushed with sobriety. She let out a sigh. "Besides, you owe me."

"Owe you?" you asked.

She couldn't contain a smirk. "For one," she started. "You're sitting in my office, drinking my booze, and you've still yet to even show me the commission I asked for. That's one reason."

She leaned forward, her gaze steady on you. "Two, you've been sleeping and eating in my club for weeks now. You think those things come free?"

Funny. Nothing's free when it comes to Sevika. She believed in the power of trades, of taking advantage of people’s qualities in an honest and effective way. You couldn’t deny that you’d turned to Sevika more times than you’d care to admit, whether it was to get another dose of Shimmer, sleep somewhere other than the workshop, and even sneak into her office and eat her snacks while she was minding her business at the brothel. Not to mention that she was now offering to pay your rent. You owed Sevika, whether you liked it or not. Your silence was your answer.

She leaned back into the sofa again, her expression smug. "That's what I thought." She muttered, taking another sip from her drink. "You're in my debt, dollface. And sooner or later, I'm going to collect."

She put the glass down, her eyes flickering to the box. "Now, are you gonna show me my commission?"

You sat up on the couch and nodded, Sevika's words not to be ignored. "Sure." you said, leaning over to carefully open the cherry-colored box you had brought for her. You lifted the lid and carefully placed the product on the table, unwrapping it.

Sevika couldn't help the way her eyebrow rose, her eyes studying the piece intently before a grin played on her dark lips. What a piece. "Damn." She muttered, her voice low with appreciation. Her hand hovered over the item, the tips of her fingers carefully tracing the leather straps, the velvety texture of the phallus.

"Is the color alright?"

Sevika took the strap, running her fingers over the texture and feel of its components, her eyes taking in the small Shimmer compartment in the back, the neatness of the finishes, even the light, comfortable weight. "Yeah. This is... better than I imagined." She admitted, her eyes flickering to you.

"Just make sure to not overdo it." you warned her, watching the woman testing the weight, the lightness of the piece and the exceptional quality of the materials. She seemed pleased, even though her face was inaccessible when it came to expressions. "It releases small doses of Shimmer, make sure to not wear it for too long."

"Oh, I'll definitely be testing the limits of this thing." She replied, her voice thick with innuendo. "I know when to stop."

"Just don't overdose." you mumbled, leaning back on the couch as Sevika stored the strap back into the box.

"I'm a big girl. I know how to handle myself." she insisted, taking a sip of the glass as her mind began going to places. The potential was massive.

You let out a sigh, you were sober and tired, the smell of the workshop clinging to your overalls and your hands still stained with oil and ink, which seemed to acquire the status of tattoos since they didn't seem to come off with any washing. You finished the glass, Sevika got up to search through her desk for the second half of your pay. She came back, holding out the the pouch. "Here." She said. "All yours."

You accepted the money willingly, thinking you would spend it on something stupid right away. You weren't good with finances, it's an understatement to say that if Sevika didn't manage your expenses regarding materials, machinery and labor, your business would go to hell overnight. She was always behind, watching over you and your lack of common sense when you had a bag full of coins. "I'll make sure to use them wisely."

"Oh, that's what you always say." She teased in return, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And then what do you do instead? Gamble it all away at the fight pits, I suppose?" She knew better than to trust you with money. You'd always been as reliable as a leaky ship, especially when you were hopped up on Shimmer.

"I make good bets." you replied. "But the fighters are getting lame lately."

She crossed her arms across her chest, her expression mocking. "You always pick the ones who look good but have no chance of winning. You always bet on the long shots, and you always lose."

You laughed, because you did tend to bet on the best looking boxer rather than the most skilled. You were a simple girl, you liked to drink in the sweaty bodies of the fighters in the Pit, men or women, releasing adrenaline charges with every punch, spitting and gasping. You found pleasure in premeditated violence, in the cheers and the boos, in the heat of a crowd committed to the spectacle. And perhaps it was because of that bad habit of yours that you bet on Vi last week, and Sevika didn’t take it well.

She huffed, her voice terse. "You picked Vi because she was hot, didn't you?"

"I picked her cause you despise her."

"Damn right, I do." She muttered through gritted teeth. "And you should too. Do you have any idea how many of my thugs she's beat up? Or the crap she caused Silco when she was in Piltover? That woman's always been a pain in my ass."

"You have a thing for problematic women." you shrugged, leaning to pour yourself more whiskey. "The difference is that some you hate, others you keep close."

Sevika rolled her eyes, craving a cigarette to deal with your tongue and insolent smile. "Causes involve problems." she said.

"And you seem to love both." you said.

"Oh, great." She muttered. "Another smartass back talker in my life... Just what I needed."

"Who's the other?"

"Jinx."

Her sigh said it all, Sevika was tired and her patience threatened to falter. Silco was her leader, she championed the cause, Zaun, yet Jinx figured as the constant component ruining her formula. You can't be a good soldier with a leader who is unable to see the flaws of his daughter, or at least, how he sees Jinx. "Sounds like you need to get something off your chest." you said.

She huffed. "I could write an encyclopaedia about everything wrong with that girl." She paused for a moment, her expression hardening once again. "She's Silco's blind spot. He can't see her for what she really is because he's too damn soft on her. And it's getting to the point where we can't cover for her anymore."

"He loves her." you said. "We all act like fools when it comes to love."

"What a joke. He's blinded by his affection for her. He's been babying her for years, giving her everything she wants and then some. And look where it's gotten us? The entire damn city is on the brink of a war because of her, because Silco can't bring himself to step away from his goddamn daughter and see her for what she really is."

Hell, she was mad. You put the glass on the coffee table, watching Sevika retrieve a cigarette from the pack in her pocket. Before she noticed, you were before her, lighting up with your zippo. "Jinx is a part of the game, want it or not. And it's up to you if you wanna keep up with Silco's whims or give up."

Her grey eyes locked on yours, releasing the smoke to the side.

"I'm loyal to Silco. I always have been, and I always will be. I believe in his cause, in his vision for Zaun." She stated. There was not a single hint of doubt on her words; when Sevika commits with a cause, she carries it to the end, no matter what.

That's what you admired of her.

"Then..." you said, grinning. "You need to let off some steam." your eyes flickering to the box on the coffee table.

Sevika thought you were joking. "You suggest I should take a stroll to the brothel while you stay here alone, a room away from the Shimmer reserves Silco keeps here?"

"I'll behave." you insisted.

"You better." She warned. "I don't know how Silco would feel if he came back to his supplies all gone because you had a goddamn party in his absence."

You smiled. "If I wanted to get high, I'd do it with my own money and merit, trust me." you stepped back, walking over to the couch. "It's up to you, Sev. But if I were you, I would go and try my new toy right away."

Sevika rolled her eyes.

"Dammit," she growled. "I can't believe I'm seriously considering this..."

Seeing you settle down on the couch, half drunk from the whiskey, Sevika actually considered taking a stroll around the brothel. She needed to release a pressure that only increased every time you were in front of her, with your stupid jokes and your arms and chest exposed, with your playful eyes and your insolent smile. You were a limit she forced herself to not cross. The woman grunted, picking up the red cape from the coat rack and putting it on.

"Take a bath while I'm gone, you smell like a workshop." she muttered, taking the box from the table

"Excuse me?" you protested, your expression one of mock-offence. "I smell just fine."

Sevika huffed a laugh at your protest, her eyes flickering over your figure. She had to admit she kind of enjoyed the way you smelt. A subtle yet intense medley of oil, grease and sweat - it was almost seductive.

"Don't pretend like I don't know the last time you took a bath was three days ago." She shot back, her voice full of sarcasm. "You smell like you live at a damn workshop."

Now you were offended. "I do live in a damn workshop."

"Don't make it obvious, then." she said, walking over the door. "I ain't paying your rent for you to smell like that. Bath." she added, leaving the room as she didn't just called you dirty.

At the slam of the door, you couldn't help but bury your nose in your armpit, letting out a groan. "Bath, yeah right," you muttered, getting up to grab one of Sevika's treats. "Next time I'll put less oil on that arm of hers…"

Sevika left the office with heavy steps, riled up by your entire presence. She was playing a dangerous game but she didn't intend to lose, not when you had become her most precious jewel but also the hardest to obtain. She wanted to possess you, in more ways than one, but she knew your limits and your whims, getting involved with you would not only be risky but directly novice to her plans. Letting you slip into her her will would only destroy the mettle she took years to build. She had to control herself.

Several glances fell upon Sevika as she entered The House of Pleasure, she hadn't been seen around these parts for weeks, and more than one of the ladies-in-waiting approached her doors hoping to be chosen by her. She was a client who paid well and made love well, there were no cons on her visits. "With Robin." the woman murmured to the owner, before being led to the largest room in the brothel.

Robin was waiting for her on the couch, wrapped in an olive-colored robe, playing with her black locks and looking as willing as ever. Sevika liked her, she had freckles and fleshy curves, she knew how to combat her bad mood.

"Sevika," the woman purred, standing up. "Long time no see. I missed you around here"

"Missing my attention or my money?" she huffed.

"Money lost importance a long time ago." she smiled, standing on her tiptoes to place a kiss on her client’s cheek before carefully removing her cape, revealing her mechanic arm. Sevika liked to be welcomed with a cigarette and Robin’s sweet perfume, to sit on the couch, manspreading, inhaling the smoke with her on her lap, giving her kisses on her neck and jaw.

However, Sevika saw you standing by the curtain, like an insistent ghost, reminding her that the woman on top her was not you. "What's in the box?" asked Robin then, leaving a kiss on the corner of Sevika's lips, her eyes flckering to the box sitting on the coffee table.

"A new toy." She muttered, her voice gruff.

Robin smiled. "You'd like us to try it?" she asked.

Sevika stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray that rested to her right, cupping the back of Robin's neck to begin a kiss that she hoped would erase you from her mind for a while. "Yeah." she said, against her lips, her hand gripping firmly the hooker's butt.

Sevika knew she was being foolish, that she was using Robin as a replacement for you, but she couldn't bring herself to care. The woman's moans, the feel of her body in her lap, it was all so familiar yet so different. She broke the kiss, her breathing ragged as she looked up at Robin with darkened eyes. "Get the toy.

Robin was helpful and elegant, she knew how to deliver an erotic show on each visit and please Sevika. She had already become accustomed to the rhythm and endurance of her client, her firm hands, her obscene kisses and subtle and not so subtle bites. The hooker opened the box, her smile was not faked when she saw the quality of the piece.

"Robe off, doll." said Sevika, her legs spreading with a latent confidence. Robin approached, an arm around her waist as Sevika pulled her closer. "You'll keep up with me, don't you?"

"Always..." whispered Robin, as Sevika watched the woman undress before her, trying to ignore the picture of your smile on the back of her mind.

Third round, Sevika seemed to hate you more and more as she discovered that the piece you had made for her was sensational.

Each thrust released a small charge of Shimmer, taking Sevika on a roller coaster of sensations, a constant upward slope that did nothing but shake her nerve fibers from head to toe. She had Robin on her stomach on the bed, hips and ass up, one hand firmly in her hair, another on her hip, as she thrusted into her relentlesslty, growling against the back of her neck in an obscene and not at all concealable symphony; the entire brothel knew that Sevika was back.

She had you to thank for this, you and your damn ingenuity. She would never admit it aloud, but gods how she hated you for this. For making her feel something, for making her lose control.

She knew she wouldn't survive another round as she leaned down, her breath ragged and hot in Robin's ear. "I might have... to take you home sometime."

"I'll go anywhere, as long as you fuck me this good." Robin purred, her body melting as Sevika leaned down to place kisses and bites on her shoulder. Sevika refused to open her eyes, she wanted to imagine you beneath her, your smell, your moans, your legs shaking with pleasure and begging for more. She held the woman's neck between her fingers, pressing her hips hard as a tickling sensation settled in her lower belly. Fuck, this was so good.

She felt herself melting, her veins burning, her heart pounding. Robin could see the purple glow in her client's eyes, they had grown deeper throughout rounds, and certainly her strength too. "I want you... so bad." She breathed, her voice gruff and breathless as she began speaking out her thoughts. "But I can't... fucking have."

"Shit... I-'m... cumming." whined Robin, which Sevika straightened up and pulled Robin's back against her chest, choking her harder with every deep, nerve-shaking thrust.

"Shut up," Sevika snapped, her voice guttural and her eyes still tightly shut. She didn't want to hear anyone's name but yours, any voice but yours. She wanted you beneath her, begging and pleading for more.

Sevika growled, her forehead suddenly resting against Robin's back, a firm hand between her legs, rubbing her clit as her brain corrected her moans and made them yours.

Gosh, she almost could smell the goddamn oil and ink.

The Shimmer was beginning to take over her wits, her veins heating up, her breath coming out in loud gasps as a second orgasm began to take over her. And Robin wouldn't shut her mouth, goddamn it!

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Sevika growled, covering Robin's mouth with her flesh hand. The woman whined against her palm, panting at the same time Sevika moaned into her neck, enjoying an unprecedented orgasm. "Fuck...! Take it well and nicely." she whispered against Robin's ear.

Robin fell back onto the mattress, her body marked by dozens of bites, a hand on her buttock, a hickey on her neck. Sevika was the only client who could afford to mark her girls, and Robin accepted it willingly. But today she had gone too far.

Sevika let out a pant, sitting up in bed, dizzy and shaky, as if she had run across all of Zaun. Her flesh hand trembled, she was a round away from overdose, she knew it. She took the strap off and tossed it somewhere in the room before searching for a cigarette on the nightstand. Just the bitter taste of the smoke managed to calm her down and return her from that portal she refused to cross.

"Something's up with you." mumbled Robin, barely catching her breath as she reached out to wet her throat with a glass of water.

Sevika sat on the couch, her cinnamon skin lightly beaded with sweat. Her entire body was still alert, sensitive and active, from her erect nipples to the thickened veins on her arm. The Shimmer was not quick to digest. "Nothing's up." she mumbled.

Robin propped on her elbow, reading Sevika's expression. She knew that one, has seen it on other clients, but it was the first time she saw it on Sevika's face; the expression of frustrated passion. "There is someone, isn't there?"

Sevika dragged on the cigarette, her eyes darting around the room before landing on the strap. Damn you. "Yeah, there's someone."

Robin's eyes softened. "Who...?" she asked softly.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered quietly, avoiding eye contact. "She's...off-limits."

As Robin was about to ask for details, there was a knock at the door. The hooker put on her robe, taking heavy steps towards the door after having dealt with Sevika's stamina for two hours. Sevika let out a cloud of smoke, pulling her head back as she thought about you, and a bitter sensation pooled on her stomach.

I'm wasting my damn time.

When Sevika had already put on her boxers, Robin turned to look at her, her expression suggesting urgency. She frowned. "What is it?"

"It's a message from the Last Drop," Robin said. "A girl overdosed in your office."

Suddenly the Shimmer effect seemed to be heightened, but it was actually raw, pure adrenaline.

No.

Sevika jumped off the couch, looking for her clothes as Robin stood there. "Sev?" she asked worried.

"Get me my damn cape," she said. "I gotta go."

To be continued...

taglist: @lez-zuha @amoraeu @nikaachuuuu @furrytaesss @elliecoochieeater @n-noctiss @emmanetalias @sevikashairbrush @lipglosskxsses @chaosfieldflower @kairuvhen @moodient @izzy120 @bonemarrowstew @abbysunderwear @batman-2 @karmalovessimonriley @fandomsinthegalaxies @fudosl @femme-historian @poprostuhybryda-blog @kifuqe @xblinkx2 @tamikahoshiko @lia-winther @https-mika

#arcane #arcane fanfic #league of legends #arcane s2 #arcane sevika #arcane smut #sevika arcane #sevika x y/n #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika my love #sevika smut #sevika x female reader #sevika x you #sevika fanfic #slow burn baby #PURE DRAMA

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demonic0angel · 2 days ago

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Just saw your phantom family in uniform art (looks as majestic as usual) can we have some wraith x nightwing?? Just them flirting and kicking ass together <33

(Hell yeah >:D Glad you enjoy it!)

Wraith hummed cheerfully as he sat on the edge of the roof overlooking the alley where Nightwing was pummeling some gang members. He seemed to be in a bad mood with how curt his one-liners were, but he was still ridiculously flamboyant as he flipped and somersaulted to beat people up.

Yes, it would be a good day today.

When he noticed Wraith, he paused before calling out in a snappy tone, “Are you going to sit there all night? Or come down and give me a hand?”

Wraith smirked. Their relationship used to be frosty, with Wraith uncharacteristically reaching out over and over to poke at Nightwing’s buttons, but now it seemed amicable. Sometimes, Nightwing stared at him with an unreadable look that Wraith didn’t know how to react to, but over all, he had fun when he was around him.

“Ohh? Well, what are you going to give me in exchange, little hero? My help isn’t cheap.”

That indecipherable look was back on Nightwing’s face before he said, “I’ll buy you dinner at the new restaurant on XXX street.”

“Hmm… deal.” Wraith did not ask for much. If anyone else asked for his help, he would’ve refused or probably extorted every single penny in their bank accounts before even considering the ask, but Nightwing was not just anybody and he was so pleasant to be around that even when he used to try to drive him away in the beginning, he had still stayed.

Wraith dropped down and blasted an opponent with a weak ray to slam them against the wall. Realizing that Nightwing had a helper, the gang members burst into a run and escaped.

Nightwing watched them as he caught his breath and Wraith turned to look at him. “So? Shall we follow them?”

“Yeah. You can sense them right? And lead us to them?”

Wraith nodded with a sharp smile and Nightwing grinned at him. It made him feel pleasant. In this world full of disgusting humans, only Nightwing and his sisters were people who he liked. (The rating on his brother/younger self was still pending.)

They waited for a few moments, tying up the knocked down criminals for the police to find before Nightwing looked at Wraith with an easy smile. “Ready to sniff ‘em out?”

“Hmph. This’ll be easy. You could’ve brought out a nose-blind cat and they’d still be able to find them in an instant,” Wraith said with a sigh, thinking of the smell of the criminals.

Nightwing laughed though, so all was well.

Wraith then went off to find the escapees. The scent of their souls were uninteresting, unappealing, and even disgusting in their blandness. Their general smell was just nasty. Wraith, however, disliked disappointing Nightwing and so he persisted and led them right to the criminal’s hideout.

“No killing,” Nightwing said absentmindedly, as he took out his escrima sticks. They crackled with energy, lighting up the blue that lined Nightwing’s suit.

Wraith huffed. “Fine. You’re boring.”

“Ohh? If I’m so boring, then let’s make a bet. If I defeat more people than you, then you’ll pay for dessert, alright?” Nightwing smirked. “And I get to order double.”

Wraith perked up with the incentive. “You can’t beat me,” he said, but Nightwing was rarely so playful with him. He seemed to be in a good mood now. “I’ll win.”

“We’ll see,” Nightwing said pleasantly, and then they both kicked down the doors, startling the gang members.

“Crap! It’s Nightwing and Wraith!”

Wraith frowned for a moment, wondering why they seemed to fit together too well, but Nightwing threw himself into the fray and Wraith was quick to follow with a feral grin.

Fighting side by side with Nightwing was an amazing experience. Wraith loved it. It felt better than being alone with only Fright Knight by his side, killing whoever he wanted and terrorizing the masses just because he could. With Nightwing, it was easier to remember how he used to be a hero.

Wraith’s eyes caught the bright blue that flashed out of the corner of his vision, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but think that his sisters would’ve been proud of him for finding such a kind, gentle, and powerful soul.

Yes, it would be another good night with Nightwing.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #dick grayson #dark danny #dan fenton #dan phantom #bad humor ship #dick x dan #pinklotushere #ty for the ask <3

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jhyoos · 19 hours ago

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Rebel Girl

rockstar!sevika x influencer!reader

Chapter 6: Ex’s and Ohs

summary : you get invited to a big party downtown Vegas by a well-known celebrity. you decide to bring along the others.

mentions: modern au, fame au, drama, swearing, protective sevika, ex finn, overall finn just being a weirdo

notes: surprise! extra chapter. 🤭

The next morning, you woke up groggy but determined to stick to your usual routine—it was the only thing grounding you in the midst of all this chaos. You started with your hour-long shower, letting the water cascade over you as you tried to clear your head. Afterward, you brushed your teeth, meticulously went through your 30-minute skincare routine, and finished with a combination of lotion and baby oil that left your skin glowing. By the time you slipped into your classic baby tee and pajama pants combo, you felt like a semblance of yourself again.

Just as you were finishing up, a knock at the door interrupted your moment of peace. You padded over and opened it to find Vi and Jinx standing there, both with wide grins on their faces.

“Good morning,” you greeted them, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” Vi replied, her tone casual but warm. “We were wondering if you wanted to join us for breakfast in the lobby. Haven’t heard from you all night, so we missed you.”

Jinx nodded enthusiastically, her wild blue hair bouncing with the movement. “Yeah, it’s not the same without you. You’ve got the best ideas, and we could really use your input.”

You gave them a small smile, appreciating the effort. “Oh yeah, sure. Just let me grab my stuff.”

Turning back into the room, you grabbed your phone and the bag with your hotel key, then followed them downstairs.

The lobby was bustling with activity, the smell of coffee and freshly cooked food wafting through the air. You were immediately struck by how awkward it felt as you approached the table and realized you’d have to sit next to Sevika. The tension between the two of you was palpable, but you pushed through it, plastering a neutral expression on your face as you took your seat.

Jinx, thankfully, was a great buffer, sitting on your other side and diving straight into conversation. “So, I was thinking we could do a retro-style drop for the merch—like 90s grunge but with neon accents,” she said, sliding her sketchbook toward you.

You leaned over to take a look, nodding thoughtfully as you offered suggestions. “What if you use a distressed font for the band name? And maybe incorporate some holographic details for the logos?”

Jinx’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s genius!”

Meanwhile, Vi and Caitlyn sat across the table, deep in their own conversation but occasionally looping Sevika in. You could feel Sevika’s presence beside you, her warmth, her voice, the occasional brush of her arm against yours. It was distracting, and you hated how much you noticed it.

The awkwardness shattered when your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced down and gasped, immediately catching everyone’s attention.

“Who is it?” Vi asked, curious.

You didn’t answer, too busy staring at the name on your screen. It was a call from Jayce Talis, the wildly popular YouTuber you had collaborated with a few months back. He was connected to every celebrity, constantly attending the biggest parties, events, and concerts, and making millions while doing it.

“Hello?” you answered, hoping and praying it was actually him.

“Hey, there’s my favorite girl,” Jayce’s smooth voice came through the phone. “I heard you’re in Vegas. You wanna come by one of my parties tonight? I’ll send you the address.”

You bit your lip, your mind racing as you looked at the others seated around the table. “Is it okay if four other people come?” you asked, feeling a flicker of hope.

“Sure, the more the merrier. I’ll send the location now,” Jayce said, his tone easygoing.

“Thank you so much,” you replied, genuinely grateful.

“Of course, babygirl. I’ll see you later,” he said before hanging up.

You placed your phone on the table, noticing everyone staring at you expectantly.

“Who was that?” Caitlyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Jayce Talis,” you said with a grin. “We’re invited to one of his parties tonight.”

“Deadass?” Vi’s eyes widened as she leaned forward. “Oh, fuck yeah. I heard his parties are crazy. So crazy you don’t even remember the next morning… no diddy.”

The table broke into laughter, the tension momentarily forgotten as everyone began buzzing with excitement over the plans for the night.

That evening, the hotel suite was a whirlwind of chaos as everyone prepared for the party. Clothes were scattered across the beds, makeup spilled across the countertops, and the music blasted loud enough to vibrate through the walls.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your outfit—a short, sleek black dress with a daring slit up the side, paired with strappy heels that gave you an air of elegance. Your makeup was bold, smoky eyes with a hint of glitter and a deep red lip that made you feel confident. You finished the look with silver jewelry, your hair styled in loose waves that framed your face perfectly.

Caitlyn, ever the meticulous one, walked over and handed you a glass of wine. “You look stunning. Jayce is going to regret not staying on that call longer,” she teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You laughed, taking a sip. “Thanks, Cait. But this isn’t about Jayce. It’s about having fun.”

She smirked. “Well, if Sevika sees you like this, she might eat her words about not being serious.”

Your stomach churned at the mention of Sevika, but you quickly pushed the thought aside. Tonight was supposed to be about letting loose, not dwelling on unrequited feelings.

Meanwhile, Vi and Jinx were already well into the pregame phase, laughing hysterically as they downed shots of tequila. Vi was in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, her go-to look, while Jinx had gone all out in a neon mini dress that screamed chaos. Sevika, on the other hand, had kept it simple yet devastatingly attractive—a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, paired with dark jeans and boots.

By the time you all arrived at the party, the energy was electric. Jayce’s mansion was everything you’d expected—luxurious, sprawling, and filled with people who looked like they belonged on magazine covers. The music thumped through the walls, a mix of EDM and Top 40 hits, as the group made their way inside.

The night quickly spiraled into drinking games, loud conversations, and dancing. Vi and Jinx had disappeared to the dance floor, while Caitlyn stayed by your side, sipping a cocktail and making small talk with other guests. You were about to join the others when you spotted Sevika across the room.

She was leaning against the bar, her posture relaxed, a drink in hand as she talked to two women who were clearly vying for her attention. One of them rested a hand on her arm, leaning in closer, and you felt your stomach twist.

Your heart sank as Sevika gave a low chuckle, her lips curling into that smirk you hated to love. She wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was flirting.

Caitlyn noticed the shift in your expression and followed your gaze. “Oh no,” she muttered, quickly grabbing your arm. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

You tried to pull away. “I just need to—”

“No, you don’t,” Caitlyn interrupted firmly, steering you toward another part of the room. “Come on, let’s get another drink and find something else to focus on.”

Reluctantly, you let her guide you away, but the image of Sevika laughing with those women was burned into your mind. You hated the way it made you feel—jealous, insecure, and foolish. You took a deep breath, silently vowing not to let it ruin your night.

Caitlyn handed you a fresh cocktail and gave you a reassuring smile. “Remember, you’re here to have fun. Don’t let her get in your head.”

You nodded, forcing a smile as you raised your glass. “You’re right. Cheers to that.”

But even as you tried to lose yourself in the party, the nagging ache in your chest remained, a constant reminder that Sevika would never be yours in the way you wanted her to be.

The party was in full swing, and the energy was electric. You and Caitlyn had thrown caution to the wind, taking more shots than either of you probably should have. The alcohol coursed through your veins, making everything brighter, louder, and a little more carefree.

Caitlyn, who rarely let loose like this, was surprisingly keeping up with you. The two of you sang along to every song blasting through the speakers, laughing as you tried to out-dance one another. At one point, Caitlyn leaned in close, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

"I think... I think I'm gonna confess to Vi," she blurted out, a mixture of determination and nerves in her eyes.

You paused, blinking at her before breaking into a wide grin. “Do it! You absolutely should! She’d be crazy not to say yes.”

Caitlyn laughed, shaking her head. “This might just be the liquor talking, but I think tonight’s the night.”

You gave her an encouraging push toward where Vi was standing, chatting with some other guests. “Go get her, tiger!”

Caitlyn took a deep breath, muttered something under her breath, and walked off, leaving you alone in the middle of the dance floor. But you didn’t mind. The music was too good, the vibe too perfect.

You found yourself dancing with a group of girls who had gathered nearby, all hyping each other up. You laughed, twirling in your dress, feeling freer than you had in weeks. The bass of the music vibrated through your body, and for a moment, you forgot all about Sevika, Jayce, and everything else weighing on your mind.

Then a finger tapped your shoulder, breaking the spell.

You turned, expecting to see Caitlyn or maybe even one of the girls you'd been dancing with. Instead, your breath hitched as your eyes landed on a familiar face.

“Finn?” you said, your voice laced with disbelief.

He gave you that same charming smirk that had once made your heart flutter. “Hey, gorgeous. What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here in Vegas?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I got invited,” he said casually, his voice smooth.

You knew why. Finn wasn’t just any guy; he was a famous actor. His rugged looks and effortless charisma made him a perfect fit for the action and sci-fi movies he starred in. He was always the center of attention, always in the spotlight.

And once, you had been right there with him.

The two of you had been a celebrity power couple. Fans adored how well you matched—your aesthetics, your energy. Everything about your relationship had seemed perfect. And for a while, it had been.

The sex, the lavish dates, the way he spoiled you… it was like living in a dream.

Until the dream turned into a nightmare.

Your chest tightened as the memories came flooding back. Coming to his house to pick up the dog you had adopted together, only to find him in bed with one of his co-stars. The shock, the betrayal, the fury that had led you to throw hands with both of them.

And then, the final blow—him kicking you out of his house in the middle of a storm, leaving you stranded in the pouring rain.

As if that wasn’t enough, you later learned she hadn’t been the only one. Finn had cheated on you with multiple women, and to top it off, he had even stolen money from you on more than one occasion.

Now, standing face to face with him again, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions—anger, hurt, and a flicker of something you didn’t want to admit might still be there.

“What do you want, Finn?” you asked, keeping your tone cold.

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Can’t I just say hi? It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough,” you muttered, turning away, but he caught your arm gently, pulling you back.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ve missed you.”

You stared at him, your jaw tightening. “Missed me? Is that what you told all the other girls too?”

Finn’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something almost resembling regret. “Look, I know I messed up. But maybe we can talk? Somewhere private?”

Before you could respond, you felt a firm hand on your back. Turning, you saw Caitlyn, her expression a mix of concern and warning.

“Everything okay here?” she asked, her eyes narrowing at Finn.

You shook your head, stepping back from him. “Yeah, we’re done here.”

Finn raised his hands in mock surrender, giving Caitlyn a once-over before meeting your eyes again. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But think about it, okay?”

As he walked away, Caitlyn gave you a look. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were trembling. “Yeah. Let’s just… get another drink.”

Caitlyn hesitated but eventually nodded, steering you toward the bar. You couldn’t shake the feeling of Finn’s gaze lingering on you, but you pushed it to the back of your mind.

Tonight was supposed to be about fun. You weren’t going to let him ruin that for you. Not again.

The chaotic haze of drinking and partying had left you feeling a little too hot under the collar—agitated, restless, and desperately in need of a moment to yourself. You stumbled your way through the crowd, searching for Jayce. The booming bass of the music thumped in your chest as you finally spotted him perched on top of an expensive-looking table, holding court with a group of people.

“Jayce!” you called, your voice cutting through the noise.

He turned at the sound of your voice, and his face broke into a wide grin. Without hesitation, he hopped down from the table, his movement surprisingly smooth for someone as drunk as he seemed.

“Jesus,” he said, running his eyes over you in a way that made you simultaneously flattered and exhausted. “You look even better than the last time I saw you.”

He pulled you into a warm hug, and you hugged him back, patting his shoulder lightly. Jayce had always been like this—overly confident and unfiltered—but you knew his heart was in the right place.

“Thanks, Jayce,” you said, stepping back. “But, um… where’s the bathroom?”

He waved a hand toward the far corner of the room. “Oh, don’t bother with the public one. Just use mine. It’s upstairs, connected to my suite. See the elevator over there? It’ll take you directly up. My guard will let you in.”

You nodded, grateful for the shortcut. “Thanks, Jayce.”

“No problem,” he said with a wink, before climbing back onto the table.

You made your way to the elevator, a burly security guard already waiting by the doors. Without a word, he pressed the button for you and gave you a curt nod as the doors slid shut.

The ride up was quick, and you were relieved to find Jayce’s suite quiet compared to the chaos downstairs. You stumbled into the bathroom, kicking off your heels as you rushed to relieve yourself. In your slightly drunk state, you didn’t even think to lock the door.

After finishing, you washed your hands, staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your mascara was slightly smudged, and your hair was a little messier than you’d like, but otherwise, you looked… fine. Passable.

The sound of the door opening behind you made your stomach drop. You glanced up into the mirror, your heart sinking as you saw Finn standing there.

“Please, baby, let’s talk,” he said, his voice low and pleading.

You turned to face him, keeping your tone firm. “I’m good, Finn. There’s nothing to talk about.”

As you tried to brush past him, he grabbed you by the waist, his strength keeping you in place as he pressed you back against the wall.

“God, you look so sexy,” he murmured, his eyes dark and focused entirely on you. “Just let me get a kiss. I’ve missed your lips so much.”

Before you could protest, his hand was on your face, tilting it up toward him. You struggled against him, trying to push him away, but he was faster. His lips crashed onto yours, stealing the kiss before you could stop him.

Your mind raced, equal parts shock and anger bubbling to the surface as you fought against his grip. You planted your hands on his chest, shoving him back with as much strength as you could muster.

“Get off me!” you yelled, your voice sharp and trembling.

Finn stumbled back slightly, his expression flickering between surprise and frustration.

“Don’t act like you don’t still want me,” he said, his voice dropping into something darker.

“I don’t,” you spat, your chest heaving. “Stay the hell away from me, Finn. I mean it.”

Before he could say another word, you darted out of the bathroom, grabbing your heels as you made your way back to the elevator. Your hands shook as you pressed the button, praying the doors would close fast enough to keep Finn from following.

When you finally made it back to the party downstairs, your heart was still pounding. The noise of the crowd was both overwhelming and oddly comforting—it meant you weren’t alone. You immediately searched for Caitlyn or anyone you trusted, needing an anchor after what had just happened.

Finn’s presence had ruined the night for you. All you wanted now was to find a quiet corner, breathe, and maybe—just maybe—figure out how to piece yourself back together.

As you made your way back onto the party floor, the noise and flashing lights felt like a cruel reminder of your shaken state. Your heels clicked against the floor as your eyes scanned the crowd, desperately searching for a familiar face. You weren’t thinking much—just running on the hope that someone you trusted could pull you out of the spiral you were sinking into.

Your gaze finally landed on Sevika. She was leaning against the bar, her focus on a small group of girls, flashing them the kind of smirk that had once made your knees weak. Her hand brushed against one of their arms as she leaned in to say something that made them giggle.

For a moment, you hesitated. But then Sevika looked up, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. The instant she noticed the tears streaming down your face, her expression changed. The playful confidence melted away, replaced with concern and something else—something almost protective.

She straightened up immediately, excusing herself from the girls without another word. Her strides were long and purposeful as she closed the distance between you, her brows furrowed.

“Come on,” she said softly, slipping her hand onto your back to guide you. She led you out of the suffocating crowd and into the night air. The quiet of the outdoors was a stark contrast to the chaos inside, and you took in a shaky breath, grateful for the reprieve.

“Hey,” Sevika said, her voice low but insistent. She turned to face you, her hands gently gripping your shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I-I…” You tried to form the words, but they caught in your throat, choked by the sobs you couldn’t hold back.

Sevika crouched slightly, trying to meet your downcast gaze. “Take your time. Just tell me.”

You swallowed hard, finally managing to get the words out. “My ex… he…”

Her jaw clenched immediately. “What did he do? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you? Where did it happen?”

The barrage of questions came quickly, her tone growing harsher with every word. You squeezed your eyes shut, the memories flashing in your mind. “He kissed me,” you finally admitted, your voice trembling. “He made me kiss him.”

Her face darkened instantly, her entire demeanor shifting into something cold and deadly. “What does he look like? What’s his name?”

“Finn,” you said, your voice cracking. “He’s tall, has tattoos everywhere… He’s wearing bright yellow…”

You stopped yourself mid-ramble, suddenly realizing how Sevika’s fists had clenched at her sides, her whole body taut with anger. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m gonna kill him,” she muttered, her voice low and venomous. It wasn’t meant for you, but she said it loud enough for you to hear.

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. “Sevika, no,” you said, reaching out to grab her arm.

Her gaze snapped to yours, her eyes burning with a fury you’d never seen before. “He forced himself on you,” she said, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You think I’m just gonna let that slide?”

“You can’t,” you insisted, your voice rising. “It’s not worth it.”

“It’s worth it to me,” she shot back, her tone firm and unrelenting.

You shook your head, tears spilling again as you tried to pull her attention back to you. “Please, Sevika. Don’t do this. I just… I just need someone right now. Not revenge.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly, and for the first time, she seemed to really see you—the vulnerability, the pain. She let out a slow, shaky breath, her jaw still tight. “Okay,” she finally said, her voice softer now. “Okay. I won’t do anything. Not tonight.”

Relief flooded through you, and you took a small step closer, resting your head against her chest. She hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around you, holding you tightly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice low. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You didn’t respond, just letting her presence ground you. For now, that was enough.

As Sevika comforted you, the quiet moment shattered when Finn stormed outside, his face twisted in anger. His voice slurred slightly, but his venom was crystal clear.

“You’re such a fucking whore, you know that?” he spat, his voice loud enough to draw attention.

Your head snapped toward him in shock, but before you could react, Sevika stepped in front of you. She squared her shoulders, shielding you entirely. Her voice was low and steady, but there was an edge to it that could cut steel.

“What did you just call her?” she asked, her mechanical arm twitching subtly as she balled her fists.

“A whore!” Finn shouted, stepping closer with an unhinged glare. “Up in the bathroom, playing hard to get, and now you’re cuddled up with some dyke?!”

“Chill,” Sevika warned, her voice dropping further, calm but laced with a deadly undertone.

“Chill?” Finn scoffed, his eyes wide with deranged fury. “Bitch, I’ll knock the teeth out of your mouth. I’ll make the rest of your life a living hell.” He took another step closer, now chest-to-chest with Sevika.

Sevika didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, giving him a slow once-over before smirking coldly. “Jesus… You dated this man? He’s pathetic.”

Before you could react to the insult, Finn’s fist flew. The sound of his knuckles connecting with Sevika’s cheek was loud enough to silence the faint chatter nearby. She stumbled back a step, more out of shock than pain, her face blank as she brought her hand to her cheek.

Then her expression changed. Fury washed over her features, her jaw tightening as she rolled her shoulders. Without another word, she swung her mechanical fist, and the sound of the impact echoed like a thunderclap. Finn crumpled instantly, hitting the ground like a sack of bricks.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Your hand gripped the wall to steady yourself as you stared at the scene, trying to process if this was reality or some drunken fever dream.

Sevika turned to look at you, her breathing even but her eyes searching your face for any sign of distress. You couldn’t move, too stunned to even speak.

The muffled noise of the party behind you suddenly grew louder as someone yelled, “There’s a fight outside!” The doors burst open, and a flood of people poured out to see what had happened. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd as everyone’s eyes landed on Finn’s unconscious body sprawled at Sevika’s feet.

Jayce pushed his way through the crowd, his sunglasses perched on his nose but failing to hide his wide-eyed reaction. “Oh shit,” he muttered, looking down at Finn before glancing back at Sevika. “Is he dead? I can’t afford another death…”

Sevika didn’t answer, her gaze flicking to you briefly before focusing back on the crowd.

“He’s not dead,” you said, your voice shaky but loud enough to silence the murmurs. You stepped forward, your hand trembling as you gestured toward Finn. “But he forced himself on me in the bathroom you said was guarded, Jayce.”

Jayce’s head snapped toward you, his sunglasses lifting slightly as if he needed to see you more clearly. “For real?” he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and concern. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I swear I’ll look deeper into this. I mean it. I’ll take your word for it—always. You’re my girl.”

He gestured toward his security team, who immediately moved to pick Finn up. “Get him out of here,” Jayce barked. “And make sure he doesn’t come back. Ever.”

As the guards dragged Finn’s limp body away, the crowd began to disperse, murmuring among themselves. Jayce gave you a small nod before heading back inside, leaving you alone with Sevika again.

She turned to you, her eyes softening ever so slightly. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice calm but tinged with something that sounded almost like regret.

You nodded, even though your legs felt weak beneath you. “I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Sevika stepped closer, her presence grounding you as she placed a hand gently on your arm. “You’re safe now,” she said, her tone firm. “No one’s going to hurt you while I’m here.”

For a moment, you just stood there, letting her words sink in. You didn’t know how to feel—grateful, overwhelmed, or still shaken—but you knew one thing for certain: you felt safer with Sevika than anywhere else in the world.

Caitlyn, Vi, and Jinx rushed through the lingering crowd, their worried faces evident as they reached you and Sevika. Caitlyn was the first to speak, her eyes darting between the two of you.

“You okay… both of you?” she asked, her tone a mix of concern and urgency.

Sevika crossed her arms, her usual stoic demeanor back in place. “Yes, I’m fine, Cait,” she replied simply.

You nodded, though your voice wavered slightly. “I am too. Just… a little shaken up.”

Jinx stepped forward, her usual chaotic energy muted but still present. “It’s time to go… yeah?” she said, her voice lighter as she hooked her arm with yours. Without waiting for an answer, she started leading you toward the exit, offering you the comfort of her presence.

Vi and Caitlyn flanked the two of you, and Sevika trailed slightly behind, her sharp gaze scanning the remaining partygoers as if daring anyone else to cross the line. The group moved quickly through the mansion, the buzz of the party now a distant hum as more people decided to leave after the commotion.

The cool night air hit you like a splash of water as you stepped outside. The streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, and the city’s noise provided a welcome distraction from your pounding heart. Jinx kept her arm linked with yours, humming softly to a song still stuck in her head.

Caitlyn glanced back at Sevika, lowering her voice so only she could hear. “You did good back there. He had it coming.”

Sevika grunted in response, but there was a subtle nod of acknowledgment.

As the group exited the mansion and approached the gates, the blinding flashes of cameras caught you off guard. Paparazzi were already gathered outside, shouting questions and taking rapid-fire photos. The flashes lit up the night like fireworks, and their voices overlapped, each trying to out-yell the others.

“(Y/N)! What happened in there?”

“Who was the guy Sevika knocked out?”

“Sevika, are you protecting (Y/N)?”

“Are you two dating?”

“Finn said you were in a relationship—care to comment?”

You instinctively shrank back, overwhelmed by the chaos. Jinx tightened her grip on your arm, glaring at the reporters. “Seriously, don’t you guys have anything better to do?”

Caitlyn stepped forward, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the flashes as she tried to create a path. “No comments. Leave her alone.”

Vi moved beside her, her presence intimidating enough to make some of the paparazzi take a step back. “You heard her. Back off,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Sevika stayed close to you, her tall frame a protective barrier against the invasive crowd. Her sharp gaze flicked over the reporters, daring any of them to push further.

“Sevika, is it true you assaulted Finn?” one of them shouted.

“Shut it,” Sevika growled, her voice low and threatening. The reporter quickly lowered his camera, the air suddenly tense.

The group finally pushed through the throng of paparazzi, with Vi leading the way and Caitlyn acting as a buffer. You kept your head down, your heart pounding as the cameras continued to snap.

Once inside the car, the driver quickly locked the doors and sped off, leaving the chaos behind. You exhaled deeply, leaning back against the seat as you tried to calm your racing thoughts.

“God, they’re vultures,” Jinx muttered, shaking her head. “Do they ever give it a rest?”

“They’ll move on to something else by tomorrow,” Caitlyn said reassuringly, though her brows were furrowed with concern.

Sevika remained silent, her gaze fixed out the window. Her jaw was tight, and her hands were clenched into fists on her lap. She looked like she was replaying the night in her head, simmering with barely contained anger.

Vi broke the silence, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “You okay? That was a lot.”

You nodded slowly, though your voice was quiet. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Jinx gave your arm a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, we’ll lock the doors, crank up the room service, and shut out the world for the rest of the night.”

You managed a faint smile, grateful for her attempts to lighten the mood. As the car sped through the neon-lit streets of Vegas, you couldn’t help but glance at Sevika. She was still staring out the window, her expression unreadable.

For now, you focused on the promise of quiet and comfort waiting back at the hotel, desperate to put the night’s events behind you.

Back at the hotel, the group gathered in Caitlyn and Vi’s room, the tension from earlier slowly melting away as the comforting smell of food filled the air. The table was covered with an assortment of takeout boxes—sushi rolls neatly arranged, crispy chicken wings glistening in sauce, golden fries piled high, and several tubs of ice cream waiting for dessert.

Jinx immediately dove for the fries, her mood lightening as she munched away. “This is exactly what we needed after all that drama.”

Caitlyn and Vi sat close together on the couch, their shoulders brushing as they shared a plate of wings. Caitlyn had a small, nervous smile on her face, stealing glances at Vi, who seemed completely at ease.

You took a seat on the floor, cross-legged with your sushi in front of you, watching the dynamic between Caitlyn and Vi unfold. Jinx noticed too, her eyes darting between them. “So… are you two gonna stop pretending or what?”

Vi choked on her drink, coughing as Caitlyn’s face turned beet red. “Pretending what?” Vi asked, wiping her mouth.

Jinx rolled her eyes dramatically. “That you’re not into each other. It’s so obvious.”

Caitlyn bit her lip, looking down at her hands. Vi glanced at her and then back at Jinx, sighing. “Fine. You caught us.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened in surprise, but when Vi reached over and took her hand, her expression softened. “She was drunk, but I still accepted,” Vi said, her voice low but sincere.

Caitlyn smiled, squeezing her hand. “I asked Vi to be my girlfriend,” she admitted.

You clapped your hands together. “Finally! I’ve been rooting for you two since forever.”

Jinx leaned back, grinning smugly. “Told you so. Now kiss or something. Make it official.”

Vi rolled her eyes but leaned in to kiss Caitlyn, a soft, tender moment that made everyone cheer and clap beside Sevika but she was amused. Caitlyn laughed, hiding her face behind her hands as Vi pulled her close.

The rest of the night passed in a warm, comforting haze. Laughter echoed through the room, and everyone indulged in food and ice cream, the stress of the evening melting away.

When the night wound down, Sevika stood, stretching. “I’ll walk you back to your room,” she said, glancing at you.

You nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves. “Thanks.”

The two of you walked down the quiet hallway, the sounds of the city fading into the background. When you reached your door, you turned to her. “Thank you for tonight,” you said softly. “For protecting me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Sevika shrugged, but her expression softened. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Trying to lighten the mood, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Well, I’m thanking you anyway.”

Sevika froze for a moment, her lips twitching into a faint smile as she nodded. “Goodnight.”

She turned and walked away, leaving you to enter your room. You closed the door, leaning against it for a moment as your heart raced. Shaking your head, you got into bed, pulling the covers up and letting the exhaustion of the night finally take over.

But just as you were about to drift off, a knock on the door startled you. You got up, wondering who it could be at this hour. When you opened it, Sevika stood there, her eyes intense and her expression unreadable.

“Sevika? Is something wrong?”

She hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer. “Fuck it… I have feelings for you too,” she said, her voice low and rough.

Before you could process her words, she leaned in and kissed you deeply, her hands gently cradling your face. The kiss was firm yet tender, filled with all the emotions she’d been holding back. You didn’t hesitate to kiss her back, your arms wrapping around her neck as your heart raced.

Sevika’s hands slid down to your waist, steadying you as she broke the kiss for just a moment, her forehead resting against yours. “Is this okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded eagerly, pulling her closer. “More than okay.”

She smiled before kissing you again, this time with more urgency. Her hands moved to the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head and tossing it to the floor. You felt a thrill run through you as you tugged her into the room, your lips never leaving hers.

Sevika kicked the door shut behind her, the soft click of the lock echoing in the room. The night stretched out before you, a mix of passion and emotions that neither of you wanted to end.

taglist : @moodient @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @graciebloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @artfairyyyyy @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @fudosl

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spiderb00 · 2 days ago

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FROGS 'N CATS

Kang Haerin x reader

“Just a cozy day with your girlfriend, Kang Haerin”

Genre – Fluff Warnings – None

Now playing – Pink, by Wave To Earth

Your head rested gently on Haerin's lap, the younger girl's back comfortably pressed against one of the trees in the park. The sun was setting in pink colors, and you and your girlfriend were tempted not to go home – even though you knew you would have to go back eventually – and to continue listening to the soft sound of the leaves of the trees swaying. The caresses of the girl with cat eyes on your head were almost making you close your eyes, the whole quiet atmosphere was cozy, and some miracle seemed to have happened, because no one had pointed any camera in the face of the two of you or asked for autographs.

"Oh! Look, Yn!" Your girlfriend's voice caught your attention, making you get up from Haerin's lap quickly and look where she was pointing.

Expecting to see a wave of fans or paparazzi, you relaxed when you realized you were just a small frog.

"He's pretty small..." You said, tilting your head to see the frog jumping near the nearby lake. "Is he still a toad child?" You said, laughing and getting giggles from your girlfriend.

"No, some frogs only grow to a specific point." Haerin began to explain, having you completely mesmerized the second she started talking.

You loved watching your girlfriend talk, you could listen to her forever. Haerin didn't say much, but she was always chattering more than usual with you, feeling comfortable sharing thoughts and being herself. Before you, Haerin only felt comfortable that way with the girls – especially Danielle – in the group, but after you invaded her heart, that changed.

"Did you know that frogs actually breathe through their skin..." Haerin stopped talking when he saw the look you gave her. If it weren't for the darkness of the night, which had already arrived, she swore that you could see how she turned red under your gaze. "What's wrong-"

Haerin was interrupted by you, attacking her face with kisses, distributing all over the younger girl's face, Haerin can't contain her laughter, and neither can she avoid blushing at your surprise attack of kisses.

"Yn! Stop, someone can see us!" The black-haired girl said, still laughing at the tickle your kisses made on her cheeks.

Giving your girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips, you walked away with a smile on your face, and the conviction that you left your girlfriend completely red and embarrassed. Haerin loved your displays of affection, but that doesn't mean she won't still be embarrassed if you're out in public.

"I love it when you talk about the things you like, Kang Haerin!" You say, without taking the smile off your face, standing up and taking her hand in yours.

"Come on, I know a very good restaurant not far from here, we can get takeout food and take it to the girls." You said, Haerin accompanying you with his hand firmly on yours.

You two walked the streets quietly, voice after voice commenting on something that caught your attention. Haerin saw some things that she would definitely come back to buy at some cool stores, and you were euphoric whenever you saw something NewJeans-related on the streets.

Entering the small establishment, you walked over to the counter, Haerin looking curiously around and spotting an elderly gentleman – who probably shouldn't be working anymore – talking to you. The small restaurant had a cozy feel, and reminded Haerin of restaurants she went to with her parents when she was a child.

"Hello child, it's good to see you're back! What will you want today?" The old man asked you, the cat-eyed girl carefully watching your interaction with the old man.

"Hello Mr. Jung? Are you alone today?" You asked, trying to peek into the open kitchen behind the man.

"No. No need to worry, Doyun is in the kitchen, he's doing all the dishes today. The night is very calm." The old man said, smiling slightly at you and changing his gaze to a shy Haerin behind you and giving her a smile.

"So, what will you and your friend want today?"

After placing orders, you and Haerin have taken a table in the corner of the restaurant, waiting for the orders to be ready. When you finally had all the bags in your hands, you and Haerin walked to the dorm where your girlfriend and the girls lived. Arriving and handing over the bags and a hungry Minji eager to see what you two had brought for dinner.

Fried rice and boiled pork dumplings gave off a wonderful smell throughout the girls' dorm, you, your girlfriend and the girls eating it all amidst conversations, Minji jokes (which earned her a few slaps from Hanni) and laughter.

"I love spending days like this with you, Kang Haerin." You say, your girlfriend snuggling more in your arms on the bed where you were both lying.

"Are you obsessed with calling me Kang Haerin, or what?" The younger girl said, blinking her eyes slowly at you.

"My Kang Haerin." You said, closing your eyes and hearing a soft giggle come from the lips of the girl next to you.

Hey guys, I did this story very quickly because all I'm having inspiration to write lately is comfort, like, I can develop cute stories where the characters live everyday and cozy things.

Honestly, this is inspiring me and I'm managing to work on the requests, maybe it will take a while because I'm being a little demanding with myself, but it will come out.

I hope you are well and taking care of yourselves, stay safe

xoxo, spider.

#new jeans x reader #newjeans x reader #kang haerin x reader #kpop gg #gxg #kpop fluff #haerin x reader

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lastoneout · 1 day ago

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They were also SO weird about my daily meds. I wasn't allowed to take them on my normal schedule that my regular doctors have signed off on, apparently this hospital has a special rulebook for when and how often I'm "actually" supposed to be taking any given medication which takes priority over my current regular medication schedule and thus I was forced to adhere to it, so between that and the whole "the nurses are so busy they are constantly late bringing me my meds which HAVE to be taken at a specific time each day, meant I felt extra mega like shit. (Like I'm on Lamictal and you CANNOT just fucking stop taking Lamictal and they wanted me to skip a dose and take it in the morning "like I'm supposed to" even though my actual fucking psychatrist said I can take it morning or night, whichever is more comfortable for me, it literally doesn't matter at all. I also kept missing the times for my Propranolol which meant my POTs was out of wack and making me dizzy and my heart race.)

Also the on-site pharmacy didn't carry one of my usual medications so they gave me a choice between switching to an "equivalent" one the doctor approved of(a decision I was not present for so I couldn't even give informed consent, like I didn't get any info on this other med aside from it's name and the assurance that "it would do the same thing" which I found dubious at best given that this was prescribed by a specialist and my assigned doctor was not trained in that field at all) or just not taking it at all, and I was explicitly forbidden from touching my meds from home(my usual hospital has no such rule so idk why they were being like this about it, I had no reason to think me bringing them was against the rules) and they nearly forced my fiancé to take the ones I brought—since I knew I'd be there for two days and figured I'd like need my meds—back to my house, so I couldn't even just take my usual meds which I literally had in my bag, I was forced to take something else.

So yeah like the constant inability to sleep or eat given the cycle of intense nausea and excruciating pain no one cared to treat correctly was already stressing me out to the point that I knew I was going to have a fibro flare that would make it harder to recover, plus the whole "ignoring me for several hours when I was sobbing from how badly I had to pee despite being unable to on my own because they just didn't believe it was possible for me to have to pee that bad until my fiancé was pissed enough he went and found them(literally actively shit talking me when he walked up too) and essentially forced them to check again, which the assistant who was in charge of that did so carelessly it make the pain so much worse and she refused to even speak to or really look at me while she did it too, and then they had to rush to give me a catheter which meant they couldn't find a smaller tube(my urologist has told me I have an uncommonly small urethra and bladder opening) or be careful so it hurt really bad" thing, AND the saying they'd give me enough pain meds to help at home only to change the dose to a lower, less effective one which I only found our about after they discharged me and I was told because I'd been discharged the doctor wouldn't speak to me(the pharmacist literally said once you're discharged you're treated as "out of sight, out of mind" like he said those exact words) AND the surgery team just straight up not returning any of my calls today to try to get the medication thing fixed, I think this hospital is run by inhumane monsters who don't give a shit about their staff or patients, which in turn makes their staff unwilling to care for their patients basically at all and they should probably face serious consequences for treating people this way.

Oh, also I just remembered the surgeon said they would tell me what setting my shunt was at because I would absolutely need that information, but no one ever told me and right as we were leaving we realized that and mentioned it and the nurse was like "idk I can't find it written in your chart so I guess you'll just have to call the neurosurgeon" and then lectured me again about the dangers of pain meds before vanishing and not returning. Which I'm sure is fine and normal.

God I fucking hate that hospital with every fiber of my living being. Also they should decriminalize all drugs and I'm not kidding.

And I'm filing a fucking grievance.

I'm home from the hospital and I can confirm that the opioid crisis has made these places fucking insane about literally all medications.

#long post #very long post #cw medical neglect #discussions of medical prcedures #personal #vent #tmi

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 days ago

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Words: 5,773 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: The Whisperers Warnings: language, violence, references to injuries and blood Summary: Trouble arrives in the middle of the night. A/N: This is part of a series. You can find all parts on my Master List.

Previous part here

Daryl felt as if he’d just closed his eyes when they shot open again. Dog was beside him, growling. It was a low, warning growl, and his attention was fixed toward the back of the dark cabin. Daryl swung his legs onto the floor, planting his boots, and reached for his crossbow. The interior was cloaked in shadows, the fire having dwindled to coals covered over in a blanket of ash, but he was unsure of whether or not he should risk turning on the lantern on the little table in front of him. For now, he simply stood, butt of his bow tight to his shoulder, and strained his hearing. Dog let out another growl and stood, his ears sharp on alert. Daryl thought he could hear some faint rustling outside the back of the cabin, but it could be an animal for all he knew.

Then suddenly your bedroom door was opening and you stepped out, wide-eyed, clutching his knife in your hand. Achilles sat perched on your shoulder, his feather somewhat puffed up, making him look even larger than he already was. “What’s going on? I thought I heard something,” you whispered, realizing both Dog and Daryl were also awake and on guard.

Daryl only shook his head, still straining to hear anything over Dog’s continued low growl. You could barely make out the shape of him in the dark. Dog’s growling seemed to suddenly be growing louder and then it burst into a crescendo of barks, causing both of you to jump and Achilles to take off from your shoulder with a startled squawk. He soared somewhere into the darkness near the ceiling. Dog lunged toward the front door, snarling and barking, his hackles raised and teeth bared.

Your heart thudded loudly in your ears and time seemed to slow with each breath that dragged in and out of your lungs. But you didn’t have to wait long before the front door, already partially busted in earlier by Daryl, was now completely ripped from its hinges. A figure charged forward, the glint of a long silver knife breaking through the darkness. Dog was on them in an instant and a strangled scream rippled through the air as his teeth sunk into the arm wielding the weapon. Dog dragged them to the ground and Daryl followed up with a bow shot to the head, impressive considering how dark it was.

You hardly had time to process what was happening before two more silhouettes were hurrying in. The moonlight now streaming in through the open door at least allowed the two of you to better see the attackers and the wrinkled and grotesque skins over their faces made it clear who they were. Daryl was rounding on the second figure with his bow as the third charged toward you. He had no time to reload a bolt and dropped it to the floor, drawing out his knife.

You stepped back as the last Shepherd rushed you and you only had time to reflexively duck the broad stroke of their knife, sinking down almost to the floor as your torso erupted with pain. Achilles swooped low over their head and struck them with his feet before disappearing again into the darkness overhead. You must have called out, and that was enough to draw Daryl’s attention away from his own fight. “Y/N!” he called out. “Hang on!” A fist connected with the side of his face, knocking him slightly off balance. Dog lunged at Daryl’s attacker and sunk his teeth into the Whisperer’s leg, causing them to drop their knife. Daryl plunged his blade into the side of their head and the figure went limp.

When he again turned, his stomach dropped. The last Whisperer had you pinned on the floor with your back against the stone hearth, the edge of it digging into your shoulder blades and spine. You were struggling to keep their knife away from your chest, shaking with the strain of it, your teeth gritting together. Daryl turned to grab his bow and fumbled with the bolt he pulled from the body of the first intruder, rushing to set it in the flight groove with hands shaky with adrenaline.

Your strength was waning rapidly and you could see and feel the point of the knife getting closer and closer to your chest. You looked around desperately, your mind whirring as you searched for a plan. Daryl’s knife had clattered away on the floor and you suspected it had gone under the couch, well out of easy reach. You did the only thing you could think of—continuing to block the attack with your dominant hand, you used the other to reach into the fireplace and plunged your fingers into the still smoking pile of ash and hidden coals. The heat seared your skin but you hardly felt it as you reeled back around and ground it into the eyes of the Shepherd leaning over you. They recoiled and dropped their knife, screaming and stumbling backwards blindly. You scrambled forward on your hands and knees, propelled by the instinct and will to survive, and grabbed hold of their knife off the rug. You swiftly jumped up and plunged it into their chest at the exact same moment the characteristic sound of Daryl’s bolt snapped through the air and buried itself into their head. The body dropped heavily.

You collapsed back down onto the floor yourself, your chest heaving. Achilles landed beside you, cawing and picking at your sleeve with his bill, turning his glossy head and bright eyes this way and that. Daryl rushed over to you, clicking on the lantern as he passed the coffee table, his expression grim. “Fuckin’ hell… Are ya okay?”

You hurriedly nodded, still completely unaware of the damage to your hand, though you were instinctively cradling it with the other. He nodded, though looked unconvinced. You watched as Daryl charged back to stand in the doorway, peering out into the night. He whistled to Dog and the Malinois took off outside, Daryl moving behind him with his bow, checking for any others. Not that he could be 100% sure… the surrounding trees cast the understory in deep shadow and only slender fingers of moonlight reached the forest floor. But Dog seemed calm and trotted back to his side, unconcerned, not a single hair prickling on his back, and that gave Daryl some comfort.

He let out a huge sigh and dropped his bow to his side, shutting his eyes for a brief moment before crossing the little porch and stepping back in. He glanced at the shattered door and then back to you, where you were still on the floor trying to catch your breath. He could see that you were shaking, probably with adrenaline but perhaps also from residual and now new pain.

After he dragged the bodies outside, he shoved the door back in place as best he could and then pushed a heavy wood desk in front of it as a makeshift barricade. He made his way over to you and you looked up at him, your eyes still a little wide. Daryl gulped. “Can I help ya up?”

You nodded slowly. You’d already tried to right yourself, but your side and ribs protested too much and your muscles gave out.

Daryl gripped you gently under the elbows and helped you to your feet. He stood you up merely 6 inches from him, his fingers not leaving until he was sure you were steady. “Alrigh’. C’mon and sit down,” he drawled, guiding you over to the couch. His hand ghosted behind your back the whole way.

He helped you sink down onto the couch carefully, though you still winced a little, and then arranged himself beside you. He leaned his bow up against the couch. “Lemme see that hand,” he said, his brow furrowing deeply. Daryl put his own palm out flat on his knee, waiting for you to make the first move. You eyed it, slowly uncurling your uninjured hand from around the other. “If—if tha’s alrigh?” he asked.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face and between his concerned blue eyes and then you laid your hand in his, a peculiar sensation prickling in your stomach.

He drew in a hiss of breath as your fingers uncurled and he pulled the lantern over more closely. Achilles took off from the top of armoire in the corner again and came to land on the back of the couch behind you, looking over what was happening. “Shit,” Daryl murmured, turning your wrist gently in the light so he could better see. There were shiny red patches scattered over your palm and fingers, interspersed with areas that were blistered or gray with scorched skin.

You seemed to be looking on impassively as he examined you, the back of your hand flush against his rough palm. You worried your bottom lip with your top teeth absently. His touch was surprisingly gentle considering the ferocity with which you’d just seen him fight.

“Fuck,” he swore again, softly, his eyes closing for just a moment against the image of your burned hand. “‘M sorry. I shoulda been faster,” he said.

You looked up at him again, with surprise this time. “This isn’t your fault,” you said, shaking your head. “It was them. The Shepherds.”

He sighed and relinquished his gentle hold on your hand. “‘M still sorry,” he said. “I’ll get some cool water from the kitchen. We should bathe this and wrap it in some sterile bandages to keep it from getting infected.” He dug in his pack and drew out a flashlight and set out some supplies from his first aid kit.

“Daryl—there should be a small, brown glass bottle with an eyedropper in the top of the pantry,” you said suddenly. “It’s lavender essential oil. You can add a few drops to the water. It’s good for burns,” you said. He nodded and then stood and you watched his broad shoulders and the wings on the back of his vest disappear into the kitchen.

Achilles hopped closer and wiggled his long bill into your hair, tickling you. You turned and looked at him. He cocked his head at you and let out a low grating sound. “I’m okay,” you whispered to the bird, scratching behind his head gently with two fingers. “I’m okay.”

Daryl returned with a bowl of cold water and a clean cloth. He sank down on the couch again and set the bowl between you, swirling the cloth through the dispersed sheen of lavender oil on the surface. “Alrigh’. Should help,” he drawled. “S’pretty cold.”

You sunk your hand into the water and couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left your lips, your eyes closing as the coolness quenched the burning. You held it below the water surface, watching the shifting shapes and colors of the reflected room wavering in the bowl.

Daryl’s eyes were fixed on your wrist, on an angry red mark cutting across perpendicular just below your sleeve. “Can I take a look at that?” he asked, gesturing to it.

“Oh,” you said. You hadn’t even noticed it before. “Yes.”

He nudged your sleeve up and stared at the burn. “Must be from the fireplace grate,” he said, dipping the cloth into the cold water and lifting it to let it trickle over the wound. He barely pressed the cotton across it, and you felt the satisfying coldness slowly growing warmer and warmer. Daryl dunked the cloth again and repeated the process, over and over.

“Luke and Alden were righ’,” he said suddenly.

Your brow furrowed and you gave him an unreadable look. “Hmm. What do you mean? About what?”

“‘Bout you bein’ a badass,” he said, dipping the cloth back into the cool water again and replacing it on your wrist. “I mean—I kinda suspected it from what they said ‘bout you fighting out there, and then ya punched me in the face… Pretty much cemented it right there. But this? Badass.” You could tell he was attempting to lighten the mood.

Your expression changed, softened, and you shook your head. “No. I’m not. I’m just—trying to stay alive, like everyone else.”

“Not ev’rybody would think to shove their hand in a pile of coals, damn the consequences,” he said.

You didn’t say anything and he let the silence stretch. Finally, he gently lifted your hand from under the water and set it on a towel he’d tucked beneath, dabbing at the skin delicately to dry it. It was peculiar, having someone else tending to you in this way after so much time alone. You didn’t quite know what to do with the restless energy building up in your midsection or with your facial expression. He grabbed a roll of sterile bandaging and ripped it open, starting to wrap it over your palm and up around your wrist.

“They know ‘bout this place? Before, I mean,” he said.

You shook your head. “No. They didn’t. I don’t think so. I haven’t stayed here in a very long time. They must have been watching us today, followed us here. Wouldn’t exactly have been hard. I was slow. And not alone,” you said. “Traveling openly on the ground.”

Daryl felt a twinge of guilt, but it was quickly followed by the realization that they perhaps still would have found you if you had been alone, and then it would have been you trying to fight off three of them while injured, and what if you’d been hurt worse? He cleared his throat. “How is the rest of you?” he asked.

You gave him a questioning look, not realizing at first what he’d asked as you were lost in your own thoughts about the Shepherds.

“Your stitches, your forearm? Your head? Alrigh’? Nothin’ bleedin’ again?”

“Oh. No. No, I’m alright,” you said, glancing down at your side to make sure you truly weren’t bleeding again through your shirt. You weren’t. “Just—sore. And tired,” you sighed.

He nodded and tucked the end of the gauze underneath itself when he was satisfied that your hand was well wrapped. “Yeah… ya should get some more rest. ‘M gonna sit up a while, stay on watch. Just in case there are any more of them. Dog will hear ‘em if there are, and I’ll be ready this time,” he drawled.

You nodded as he set the bowl of water on the table and dimmed the lantern. He climbed to his feet and hesitantly offered you some help getting up again, which you accepted. The aches in the rest of your body seemed even more pronounced now, and the hum of pain in your hand was sharpening. “Achilles,” you said softly, and the bird fluttered up onto your shoulder again. You glanced at Daryl, standing in front of the couch.

“Thanks. For patching me up,” you said.

He nodded and then started—struck with a thought. “Where’s yer knife at?” he drawled, glancing around.

“You mean your knife?” you said. One of his matching set. “I’m not sure. It slid away somewhere when I fell. I thought under the couch maybe?”

Daryl grabbed his flashlight again and shown it around the floor, finally spotting the handle poking out from under the side table by the back leg of the sofa. He retrieved it and held it out to you. “Ya better keep this close. Just in case,” he said.

You accepted it with a nod. “Night,” you said. “Um—I think I’ll leave the bedroom door open this time, if that’s alright,” you said. “That way I’ll hear Dog if he alerts. Just in case.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Course.”

“Okay. See you in the morning.”

Daryl watched your figure become swallowed up in the darkness of the bedroom and waited until he heard the silky rustling of the blankets. He let out a heavy sigh, his anxiety finally seeming to ebb completely. “Good dog,” he murmured, patting the Malinois as he passed him on the rug in front of the fireplace. The deep crimson swipe marks of blood on the wooden floor looked almost black in the low light and he cast them a sideways glance. He could still see the scattering of fine gray snow sticking to the drying blood from your desperate defense. His stomach churned. Then he turned back to the fireplace, blew the ashes from the coals, and added another log, ready to start his vigil.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning had you wandering out of the bedroom in a bit of a daze, wondering at first if you’d dreamt the Shepherds attack in the night, but the bandage and stinging of your hand told you otherwise. There was clattering in the kitchen and you stopped in the doorway to see Daryl at the little gas stove, a flame flickering under a big cast iron pan.

“Hey,” he said, finally realizing you were there. “Sorry. Was I bein’ too loud? Did I wake ya up?”

You shook your head. “No.” Dog trotted over to you and nudged your hand until you scratched behind his ears. He let out a satisfied noise when you hit the right spot and you couldn’t help smiling.

Daryl saw it. His eyes flickered over your face and back down to Dog. “Dun let him boss ya ‘round. He’ll have ya workin’ overtime on scratches,” he said.

Your smile widened just a little, but your eyes stayed on Dog. “I don’t mind,” you said.

“Where’s Achilles at?” he asked, noticing the raven’s absence.

“Out flying,” you said. “He needed to stretch his wings, and he’ll tell us if he sees any dead or people.”

Daryl nodded and stirred around whatever was steaming in the pan. “Uhh—I made some breakfast. And the kettle is hot,” he said. You wandered closer and grabbed a mug from a hook on the wall and glanced down at the food. “Yeah, uhh…” he drawled hesitantly, “hopefully it tastes better than it looks… ‘cause… it looks—”

“—like shit,” you interrupted him. It was a semi-liquid, semi-solid brown concoction bubbling in the bottom of the pan.

He glanced up and met your eyes and you both smiled a little, amused. Daryl let out a low huff of a laugh and stirred it around with the spatula again. “Yeah,” he said, scratching at the back of his head. “Hey, I never said I was a good cook.”

“But it’ll be edible,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “Last night’s was actually pretty good.” You went to the pantry and pulled out a jar of dried leaves and rose hips. You were staring down at it and then looked over at your bandaged hand. It stung and burned beneath the gauze.

Daryl was watching closely and set down the spatula. He gently took the mason jar from you and opened it up. “How is it?” he drawled. “Yer hand. And the rest of ya?”

“It’s—okay.”

Your hesitation was enough to make him worry. His brow furrowed as he handed you back the jar of tea leaves. “Prob’ly should change the bandage later today and check it over,” he said. “What about the rest, from the fight with Alpha?”

“I’m fine. Really. Just a little sore.” You dropped some leaves into your mug and Daryl grabbed the kettle before you could and poured the hot water into your cup. “Thanks,” you said.

You went and sat down (gingerly) at the little kitchen table and watched him busy himself at the stove for a little while longer. You stared as the wings on the back of his vest moved as he shifted. “Are you some kind of angel?” you asked.

“Huh?” He turned slightly to look at you over his shoulder.

“Your vest,” you said. “The wings.”

He shrugged. “S’just a design.”

“I don’t know. You seem like the hero type to me,” you said, blowing at the curls of steam rising off your tea.

Daryl gulped, completely unsure of how to interpret that. Was that supposed to be an... insult? A compliment? But suddenly you were smiling and then let out a light laugh at the expression on his face.

“Are you?”

He turned fully now, spatula still in his hand, and leaned back against the counter. “S’this some kinda test? Or—trick question?”

You set your mug down, warming your uninjured hand around the ceramic. “It’s just a question.”

He gave you a long look, and his blue eyes were intense but thoughtful. Something happened in that moment. It was just a feeling, but it bubbled up in your chest unexpectedly, and you found yourself almost startled at it. Connection. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Or was it something more than just a simple human connection. It felt different somehow.

At length, he ducked his head. “Nah, I ain’t no hero. I just—try to do what I can for my people.”

“I’m not your people,” you said quickly. “But you sat at my bedside, tried to calm me down, gave me your knife, attached yourself to me like a fucking barnacle... oh, and probably saved my life last night when those Shepherds busted in.” There was a pregnant pause for a moment where the air felt thick and electric. “You patched up my hand. You seem like you worry about me, which I can’t understand because—”

Daryl let out a sigh that you thought sounded annoyed if that was possible. “Ya are my people now.”

There was a beat before you could find your voice. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“I didn’t say ya did. Tha’s just how it works with us. Ya saved me and Dog, and ya saved Luke and Alden, even though it almost killed ya. As far as ‘m concerned, yer one of our people now. Even if ya dun think ya are. Tough shit. Deal with it,” he said with finality. He turned back to the food and you watched him curiously.

Soon, the two of you sat across from each other, almost bumping knees, and ate in silence.

Later that day, Daryl came back from hauling more water from the well to find you standing out in the open, staring out at the trees. He stopped beside you and set down the bucket. “Ev’rythin’ alrigh’?” he asked, following your gaze out toward the canopy.

You nodded. “Yeah. Achilles should be back soon.”

But the expression on your face had him worried. “Ya think more of ‘em are out there?” he asked.

“Oh, they’re out there. But hopefully not here,” you said. You looked over at him and his eyes seemed to land on the still dark bruise on your cheekbone and temple from Alpha’s boot. His face darkened. “I’m fine. It’ll be fine. You should be more worried about what’s happening back home,” you said. “If Alpha comes for her daughter—”

“Well, I ain’t back home. ‘M righ’ here. Tara and them can handle it.” He picked up the bucket again, irritated. The truth was that he was worried about what was happening back home. Henry was there. Jesus had just been killed. And they had a captive Skin freak in a cell. If only he could be in two places at once...

_ _ _ _ _ _

That night, Daryl couldn’t tell at first what woke him up. The cabin interior was nearly all deep black with the exception of a faint orange glow where the fire had dwindled down to coals cloaked in ashes. A soft sound brought his attention to the pile of old, faded newspapers stacked on the side of the hearth. He watched curiously as the corners of a few lifted in a current of air and fluttered before dropping into stillness again.

He sighed and rub a hand over his face, swinging his legs down onto the floor and planting his boots. He hadn’t even meant to fall asleep. He was still worried about more of those freaks showing up... His eyes drifted over to where Dog was curled up on the carpet in front of the fireplace. He raised his head at Daryl’s movement.

The newspaper fluttered again with the same soft sound and Daryl moved around the coffee table toward the hearth and grabbed a log. He blew the ashes clear resulting in a slightly brighter glow and stirred them with the end of the wood until it caught. Flames licked upward again, crawling over the dried bark and curling inside toward the heart of the wood.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the newspapers flutter again but this time it was accompanied by a cool breeze on his cheek. Considering how close he was to the fireplace and the direction of the draft, it didn’t make much sense. He held out a hand, stretching it toward the stack and cold air kissed his fingertips. It was coming from the direction of your closed door.

It didn’t make much sense that you would have opened a window… the night air was cold and the temperature inside the cabin was much more comfortable since you’d built the fire the evening before. Gulping anxiously, Daryl stood and went to stand at the door to the bedroom. He strained his hearing but could hear nothing but the continued occasional flutter of the papers beside him. He hesitated only one more moment before lifting a hand and knocking lightly. “Y/N?” he called out. “Everythin’ okay?”

Behind him, Dog whined and got to his feet.

It was probably only seconds before he knocked again but the silence felt ominously loud. “Y/N?” he called once more, his voice a little gruff still from sleep. “Are ya alrigh’?” Sharp worry seemed to pierce him. You’d been badly hurt and had exerted yourself far more than you should have since the surgery at Hilltop. Sure, you’d rested for most of that day but after the fight last night— “Look, if ya dun answer I’mma have to come in and check on ya,” he drawled, certain he was being loud enough to wake you even if you’d been deeply asleep. He stood still for a long moment, his heart pounding. Dog circled nervously behind Daryl and whined again. “Shit,” he murmured under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face again. But there was still no answer and his hand seized the doorknob and turned. The latch drew back with a metallic click and he pushed into the room. “Y/N?”

He was met with a draft of cool air that fluttered his wavy hair back as he stepped into the room. It was quickly explained by the window, which was left open a crack at the bottom.

Daryl sighed as he looked at the ruffled blankets on the bed. Empty. No sign of your pack. None of your belongings. No Achilles.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. Dog rushed past him and circled the room, sniffing and then sticking his nose into the gap at the windowsill and pulling in loud, deep breaths. Defeated, Daryl stepped farther in and caught sight of a small, rectangular scrap of paper sitting on the quilt. There was a glossy black feather sitting on top of it. He picked it up and spun it between his fingers before turning to the note. It was simple, just a few words.

“Thanks. And sorry.”

Daryl sighed heavily and chewed on the inside of his cheek before glancing at Dog. He walked to the window and shut it securely, locking it in place. “C’mon, boy. See if we can’t pick up her trail,” he said, ruffling the Malinois’ fur as he darted past him back into the main room. You couldn’t have been gone too long… He was shocked he (or Dog rather) hadn’t heard you sneaking out. He must have been deeply asleep for once. Daryl hastily threw on his pack and grabbed the rest of his gear. He doused the recently rekindled flames with water and closed the flue once the smoke and steam had diminished. He took one final look around the cabin. Everything was in its place. He wanted it to be in case you had to come back someday. Just in case.

He stared down at the note and Achilles’ feather once more before tucking them into his jacket. “C’mon,” he said to Dog again, opening the back door and following him out into the cool night. “Track her, boy,” Daryl commanded.

Dog immediately took off and Daryl raced after him, clicking on the flashlight on his bow. He almost didn’t need it. The moon was bright enough to light his way and he used the flashlight beam only to scrutinize the ground for your tracks. He strained his ears in case you were closer than he expected, but the only sounds were the distant calls of night birds and the drone of a few insects.

At first, Dog snuffled the ground and moved in a purposeful path, clearly following the trail of your scent, but after about 200 yards, the Malinois noticeably slowed. He circled and quartered, his nose to the ground and his determined bounding ended. His nose and paws stilled at the base of a large pine with branches that came within easy reach of the ground. Dog lifted his head and looked up. Daryl did the same. Dog stood on his hind legs and put his paws up on the trunk, whining.

Daryl shooed him back and stepped in close, resting his palm against the rough bark, two of his fingers landing in the sticky sap exuded from a wound to the trunk. The pine was dark overhead. He could hear and see nothing. He glanced down at Dog, who yipped anxiously. “Is she up there, Dog?” he asked in a whisper, patting his head. Dog’s paws pranced back and forth and he sat. But there was no urgency in his movements, and Daryl realized, even before he had climbed high into the tree, clumsily with his pack and bow slung on his back, that you had slipped away. No croak of raven or soft rustle of pine boughs, no snarky comment or annoyed glance greeted him when he reached the point where he could climb no higher. It was as if you had faded into a mist and blown away, swept off with Achilles’ wings…

As he climbed down, Daryl marveled at the fact that you had climbed at all, if that is indeed what you had done. He had seen your careful movements, your fatigue, your ginger stretching. He knew the extent of the wound in your side and that you’d had a serious concussion and bruising throughout your body. And on top of it, the burns to your hand were fresh and angry. And yet… you’d vanished.

He wandered back and forth in the area with Dog for some time, hoping to pick up your scent somehow, scanning the ground for a trail to track, but the undergrowth was thick and made moving miserable and completely impossible in some places. He could see why you’d climbed into the trees.

Eventually, defeated, he and Dog turned back.

By the time they reached the little cabin again, the dawn was already growing over the tops of the trees and there was nothing else to do but head back to Hilltop. He was needed there. Time to go.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Tara was standing with Enid and Alden just inside the gate when Daryl came strolling in after Dog. “Daryl!” she yelled with surprise, trotting over. Enid and Alden followed behind. “Are you okay? What happened? We weren’t expecting you back so soon.”

“How is she?” Enid asked urgently, desperate for an update on your condition.

Daryl let out sigh and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. He shrugged. “Well, she was exhausted and sore but—doin’ alrigh’ last night. But, uhh…” he trailed off.

Tara frowned. “But what?”

He was almost embarrassed to admit it. “She, uhh—left. Without tellin’ me. In the middle of the nigh’… Just slipped right out.”

“What?” Tara asked, her eyebrows lifting, concern painted all over her features. “Why?”

Daryl thought back to what you had told him about your last settlement, about the betrayal and the devastation. “She just ain’t used to bein’ ‘round other people. Same reason she didn’t wanna stay here.”

Enid looked thoroughly worried and Alden gently put a hand on the small of her back.

Daryl did what he could to assuage Enid’s worry. “Look, she’s tough as hell. ‘M pretty sure she’s gonna be just fine. Somethin’ else happened though... Some of those Skins must’ve followed us to where we crashed the day we left. Three of ‘em. They broke in that night and attacked us. We fought ‘em off but one of her hands got burned pretty good.”

“Oh my God,” Tara said, her face falling.

Enid looked thoroughly upset. “You should have brought her back here,” she said. “We could have treated her.”

Daryl shook his head. “Enid, you and I both know there was no way she was comin’ back here unless she was forced to. I helped her get it cleaned up and patched up. She used some lavender oil on it. I think—I think she’s gonna be alright. Really. She’s tough as hell.”

Alden let out a laugh and the three others looked over at him. It seemed like an odd time to be laughing. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just—not only did she get a hit in on Daryl Dixon, but she snuck away without you knowing? Or being able to track her? If I hadn’t seen her myself, I’d say she is a damn ghost.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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sorenphelps · 2 days ago

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guard dog

i'm still very deep in the military outfit pit, so I was looking up reference pics for the official uniform of royal engineers, and found a lot of pictures where they carried each other like this... so i obviously had to draw this... then i realized that it sort of looks like the poster of The Bodyguard movie, and now i have 630 words written by AI summarizing this concept... (i'm also a little conflicted about using AI, but i am definitely not a writer, so... please dont hate me, my artwork is AI free!)

The Bodyguard AU under the cut, feel free to write this!

James is the son of an ambassador, raised in the United Kingdom. His life was turned upside down when his parents were stationed in a hostile country and an assassination attempt was carried out against them. James was also threatened, and for his own safety, he was placed under strict house arrest. Isolated from the world, his frustration grew. He felt trapped in a gilded cage, constantly under surveillance. His only escape was sneaking out when he could, desperate for even a fleeting sense of freedom. As a result of his repeated escapes and the increasing danger surrounding him, a bodyguard was hired to provide 24/7 protection: Sirius, an ex-soldier, now a top-tier security expert with a clear mission of keeping James safe at all costs. Strong, tall, and with striking good looks, Sirius exuded an air of danger, an impenetrable coolness that made him seem almost unapproachable. When James first laid eyes on him, the professional demeanor and intimidating presence were hard to ignore, and the idea of being constantly watched by such a man was hardly appealing. Sirius kept his distance both physically and emotionally, but as the days wore on, something unexpected began to happen: he proved himself to be not just an expert at protecting James, but someone who could be trusted. Sirius, though professional and distant at first, was not impervious to James’s charm. Despite his focus on the task at hand, there were moments when their eyes would meet, when James would catch a glimmer of something deeper in Sirius’s gaze. The heat between them was undeniable, though neither man spoke of it. Still, the chemistry simmered under the surface, growing stronger with every shared adventure, every close call, every moment where their lives were intertwined. The more time they spent together, the more Sirius’s tough, almost cold exterior began to crack. He started to show a side of himself that James hadn’t expected—gentle, caring, and protective in ways that went beyond the professional. James, for his part, found himself drawn to Sirius’s strength, his competence, and the tenderness that lay hidden beneath his stoic façade. It wasn’t just the physical attraction, though that was undeniable, but the way Sirius made him feel safe, cherished, even in the most dangerous moments. Despite the constant threats on James’s life, the bond between them grew—one built not just on trust and mutual respect, but also on the undeniable sexual tension that sparked between them. Their attraction was electric, their stolen glances and lingering touches all charged with the unspoken desire. But it wasn’t until one fateful night, when they found themselves caught in a perilous situation, that their feelings finally erupted. The close proximity, the adrenaline, the raw emotions they had kept locked away finally broke free in a passionate kiss that neither of them could deny any longer. What started as a professional arrangement became something far deeper and more complicated. They navigated their growing feelings amidst the ever-present danger surrounding James. Their relationship was a delicate balance—one that was often tested by their contrasting personalities and the constant threat to James’s life. But through it all, they found comfort in each other. James, once a prisoner of his own life, found freedom in Sirius’s arms, while Sirius, who had long buried his emotions beneath his soldier’s mask, allowed himself to love again. In the end, their connection became more than just a matter of protection—it was a bond forged through fire, a love that neither man had anticipated, but one that transformed their lives forever. Together, they faced whatever dangers the world threw at them, knowing that, despite everything, they had each other. And in a life filled with uncertainty, their love was the one thing that remained undeniable, unshakeable, and real.

#sirius black #james potter #james x sirius #prongsfoot #the bodyguard au #military au #fanart #art by lau #lau draws with a tablet #lau doesn't write because of reasons

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mj-iza-writer · 3 days ago

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If its not too much trouble I think a non human Whumpee that can't touch water because it burns them or something like that being forced to take a shower by whumer could be interesting

Warning: swearing, water torture.

"The water is corroding through your skin. Your skull is about to feel the burn of ten thousand suns. Tell me where your coven is", Whumper stared angrily at the beast restrained on the cold metal slab.

"No", Whumpee gritted their teeth.

Another droplet of water dripped out of the bucket hung directly above their head. A tiny hole had been made into the plastic bucket. Every few minutes a droplet of water worked its way out of the hole and onto Whumpee's head.

It sizzled as it landed on Whumpee's forehead.

Whumpee let out a guttural scream and fought against the restraints.

"This can all be over. Where are they?", Whumper slammed on the table.

"Fuck off... I'm not telling you", Whumpee barred their fangs.

Whumper sighed and slapped the bucket a few times. Droplets of water sprinkled all over Whumpee's face.

"AHHUGH", Whumpee screamed. They took deep breaths and squirmed around the table.

"Maybe a sip of water would help. Are you thirsty?", Whumper reached for a cup.

Whumpee closed their mouth and tucked their lips in tightly.

Whumper fought them for a few moments before someone else came in.

"You'll kill them if they drink it. We need answers", they warned.

"I'll take that drink now that you mention it", Whumpee whispered, "I'd rather die."

"Not a chance", they took the cup from Whumper and splashed it over Whumpee's bare chest.

"Mmmm", Whumpee groaned, "fuck all of you."

Their skin bubbled up and sizzled

"Put them away. We can give them some time to stew in their cell. No food or water. We have no idea what that thing can eat and what will kill them", they turned leaving Whumper to their devices.

Whumpee screamed as another droplet fell on their forehead.

"It looks like we hit bone", Whumper chuckled.

Whumpee was left on the table they had been restrained too. They looked around the room they had been left in.

Reinforced metal walls and an even heavier door. Cameras pointed at them from every angle.

Whumpee's head ached, and they were so hungry.

"Oh the forest is where I run and play. I can roam there all night and day", Whumpee sang, "my ancestors left the forest for me. I take care of it like I've learned and seen."

"Shut up", a robotic voice yelled at them, "the only thing we want you to say is information about your coven."

Whumpee sang louder over the voice. This was the only way they could keep their sanity.

Their cell door was slammed open, causing them to jump.

Their table was roughly pulled out if the room.

"Where are you taking me?", Whumpee frowned as they watched the room they were in earlier pass by.

Whumpee fought violently when they realized they had been brought into the locker rooms.

"You wouldn't", Whumpee yelled, "you fucking wouldn't."

They screamed as they passed a sign that read showers.

"Try me", Whumper glared as they turned the shower on.

A gag was pushed into Whumpee's mouth.

Whumpee looked at their captors with wide eyes. The table they were on began to be pushed to the shower head.

"Yhmm, nmmmm", Whumpee screamed into the gag.

Their feet went under first... then their legs.

Whumpee's eyes were squeezed shut as their skin blistered and bubbled.

"Stop", an order came from the entrance of the locker room.

Whumper quickly pushed the table even farther under the water.

Whumpee's stomach smoked as the water beat against their skin.

Whumpee went in and out of consciousness. They knew the water had been turned off. Their skin continued to pulsate. The pain was too much.

They could hear Whumper being reprimanded.

"Under attack", was the last thing they heard.

Whumpee weakly opened their eyes.

Everything hurt. Their skin was so tight from the burns. They looked down over themself. Their skin was blistered and bumpy. Other patches didn't have any skin at all.

Someone came into the room.

"Please, please no more", Whumpee cried, "just kill me."

"Hey shh. We are taking you home", someone frowned, "I am captain..."

"H-home", Whumpee whispered, "no, how did you find....", Whumpee started to hyperventilate.

"I need you to relax. We are the good guys. Your coven told us that you had been kidnapped. It took us time to find you. Unfortunately the damage is severe. Your captors will pay for what they've done. They will stand trial. We are rushing you home now. Your people know better on how to heal you."

Whumpee shivered, both from the pain, but also from the idea of going home.

"Someone has been waiting on a line for when you woke up", the captain clicked a button, "do you wish to hear from them."

Whumpee nodded, not knowing what to expect.

"This is the Coven's leader. Am I talking to Whumpee?"

"Y-yes", Whumpee's lip quivered.

The leader took in Whumpee's whimpering.

"You have done good work protecting our coven. You have been declared a hero. The medicine woman is ready to receive you. She knows of your injuries. A feast will be held in your honor", the leader explained to Whumpee.

Whumpee couldn't control themself and started to cry.

The captain saw red coming from Whumpee's eyes.

"Their eyes are bleeding", the captain told the leader.

"It's tears. We don't cry normal tears because of the water. Our species have evolved to cry blood platelets."

"Whumpee there is something else. Someone wishes to sing to you", the leader smiled.

"Oh the Forest is where I run...:

"Mama", Whumpee weakly starred.

"Yes baby. You are so brave", a woman's voice came over the line, "we will get you all fixed up. You will be okay."

Whumpee cried louder.

"Thankyou.... thankyou."

"We will arrive to your meeting place soon", the captain took over the call, "they seemed to have relaxed a little now. I'm glad you remained on the line for them."

"Anything for our brave hero", the leader spoke softly, "we are ready to receive them. Thankyou for working so hard to rescue them Captain."

"You're welcome."

"Thankyou", Whumpee whispered as they continued to weep, "thankyou."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath

@porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst

@generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened

@freefallingup13 @notpeppermint

@cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet

@painfulplots @whumpbump

@everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee

@expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson

@legendarydelusiongoatee @candleshopmenace

@whumpanthems @lavndvrr

@ivymyers @starfields08000

@a-living-canvas @lumpofsand

@watermeezer @indigoviolet311

@whumpy-mountains

@risk606 @electrons2006

@paperprinxe @whumprince

@kaz-of-crows @mis-graves

@decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @sausages-things

@castiels-favorite-hunter @isikedmyself878

@daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud @valravnthefrenchie

@glennemerald @jasperthecapser

@does-directions @deafeninglittlecrown

@jumpywhumpywriter @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @thenormalestever

@whatwhump @galatic-worm

@starmoon-constellation @bacillusinfection

@whumpsandbumps @tobiasbones

@octopus-reactivated @string-of-broken-hearts

@weirdthingweee

#whump community #whump stuff #whump ask #whump writing #whump ideas #whump scenario #whump #whumper #whumpee #monster whumpee #inhuman whumpee #oc #caretaking

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airybcby · 7 hours ago

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How about hiori with 🫐 and 🍫

i love hiori omg

a hiori yo chocolate blueberry

જ⁀♡⊹｡° something about you

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event !

♡ content — hiori yo x gn! reader, gn! reader, one bed trope, reader has slight feelings for hiori, hiori's sadism mentioned like once, talk of hiori playing pro, some cuddle moments, awkward kinda, not my best but i fear idk how to write for hiori well

♡ synopsis — Living with the resident ' nice guy ' , hiori yo, for this simulation was supposed to be good for you...until you're faced with any strangers sharing a space's worst nightmare... a singular bed

The apartment was... cozy. That was one way to describe it. Small but clean, with just enough space for the both of you. The only glaring problem was the single bed that sat against the far wall.

Hiori noticed it first, freezing mid-step as his gaze locked onto it. His lips pressed into a thin line, and he glanced at you, his blue eyes uncertain.

“There’s only one bed,” he said softly, as if you hadn’t already seen it.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s fine. You can take it.”

His head snapped toward you, his brows furrowing. “No way. You take it.”

“Hiori, it’s not a big deal—”

“It is to me,” he insisted, his voice uncharacteristically firm. “I’ll take the couch.”

You looked at the small, uncomfortable couch in question, your heart twisting. You knew him well enough to understand why he was being so stubborn. Hiori had always been the type to put others first, even at his own expense.

“I’m not letting you sleep on that,” you said, crossing your arms. “We’re both mature. We can share the bed. It’s just sleeping.”

He hesitated, clearly torn. But after a long moment, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Alright. But I’m staying on my side.”

The first night went without incident. Hiori was almost annoyingly still as he slept, his back turned to you, his arms tucked rigidly at his sides.

The second night, though, he loosened up—or at least that’s what you told yourself when you woke up to find him lying on his back, his hand resting near yours.

“I didn’t cross the line,” he said as soon as he noticed you were awake, his voice light but his gaze serious.

“I didn’t say you did,” you replied, though your heart was racing.

The days passed, and despite the awkwardness, you settled into a routine. Hiori would tease you endlessly, but there was a tenderness beneath it that made your chest ache.

“This isn’t weird for you?” you asked one night as you lay side by side, staring at the ceiling.

“What?” he replied, his voice soft in the dark.

“Sharing a bed. Being here. With me.”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “No. Is it weird for you?”

You hesitated. “No. I guess not.”

“Good,” he said simply, and that was the end of it—or so you thought.

The moment it all came crashing down was during the final week of the simulation.

You woke up one morning to find Hiori’s arm draped over your waist, his face inches from yours. For a moment, you froze, your heart racing.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. When he realized the position you were in, he didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he blinked at you, his expression unreadable.

“Morning,” he said finally, his voice low and raspy.

“Morning,” you whispered back, your cheeks burning.

And then, as if the weight of the moment was too much, he pulled back, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

“Sorry,” he said, his tone back to his usual sweet tone, though his ears were red. “Guess I forgot to stay on my side.”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, sitting up as well. “It’s not a big deal.”

But it was. You both knew it.

The next morning, he avoided your gaze entirely. The easy banter that usually filled the space between you was gone, replaced by a heavy, stifling silence.

“Hiori,” you began as you packed your things on the last day, your voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly, cutting you off.

“For what?”

“For crossing a line.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his hands busy folding a shirt that didn’t need folding. “I shouldn’t have—”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly, stepping closer.

He finally looked at you then, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Longing?

“You don’t get it,” he said softly, his voice laced with frustration. “I can’t—I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hiori Yo? Hurt you? In what world would that be possible? But you didn't know him like you thought, how his brain worked, how he was just a bit of a sadist.

And, in the end, he was still an egoist, still a soccer player who's was going to play pro.

He refused to bring someone into that life when even he didn't know how it would play out.

“Hiori,” you whispered, your chest tightening.

“This was supposed to be pretend,” he continued, his gaze dropping to the floor. His usual smile still on his face, although his eyes looked sad, “But I think we both know it hasn’t felt that way.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might say something else. But he just shook his head, his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “So that’s it?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he zipped up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

As he walked toward the door, he paused, his hand resting on the frame.

“For what it’s worth,” he said without turning around, “I wanted this. More than I should have.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the quiet, empty apartment.

this is so bad but i didn't wanna make him "i'm such a baby , pls help me" fanon hiori when he's a meanie but i didn't know how to make it fit the story

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#★ · airybcbyy #airy posts #bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #airy answers asks :)#hiori yo x reader #hiori yo #hiori x reader #hiori blue lock #hiori yo blue lock #bllk hiori #bllk hiori yo

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cocostyles · 2 days ago

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Love Lies Bleeding — Naruto Uzumaki

pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x fem uchiha reader!

word count: 1216 k

summary: Naruto hasn’t been present since he became Hokage.

warnings; fem reader, heartbreak, breakup, english is not my first language

part two

Years had passed since you first met Naruto Uzumaki. Back when you were just children dreaming of becoming ninjas, he had lit up your life with his contagious smile and unshakable optimism. You had fallen in love with his determination and charisma, seeing in him not just the hyperactive boy who dreamed of becoming Hokage, but also the man who would one day change the world. You always saw his great potential and had faith in him. Now, that dream had come true. Naruto was the Seventh Hokage of Konoha, and while the world celebrated him, you felt more alone than ever.

Over time, you had learned to accept that Naruto had responsibilities that extended beyond you. However, that understanding began to turn into an unbearable weight that barely let you breathe. The dinners he promised to attend turned into cold plates. The nights he said he’d be home early ended with you falling asleep on the couch, waiting for him after crying yourself dry.

One day, after a long silence between the two of you, you decided to talk to him.

“Naruto, I feel like you’re not here with me anymore. You do so much for everyone else, but… what about us? I miss you.”

Naruto looked at you with those blue eyes that had always melted your heart. His gaze softened, and a flicker of guilt crossed his face.

“That’s not true. I love you more than anything. How could you doubt that?” he said, taking your hands. “I know I’ve been busy, but I’ll find my rhythm soon, and we’ll be fine.”

You wanted to believe him, but that very night, you found yourself alone again. He had promised to be there, but an “emergency” had pulled him back to his office.

As time passed, the emptiness in your chest only grew. You truly tried everything to rekindle the connection you once had, back when you went on missions together: preparing his favorite meals, decorating your home to give him a warm welcome, even finding moments to visit him at the Hokage Tower. But Naruto always seemed distracted, absorbed in something you couldn’t reach.

One sleepless night, you decided to take a walk. The streets of Konoha were quiet since the war, illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. Without realizing it, your steps took you toward the Hokage Tower. As you approached, you noticed the light in the main office was still on. Curious, and with a strange feeling in your stomach, you decided to go up and see if you could convince him to leave his work behind and come home, just for tonight.

As you reached the door, you heard laughter. It wasn’t Naruto’s laugh—you knew it well. Nor was it the kind of laugh one hears in a formal meeting. It was feminine, sweet, and intimate. Your heart began to race as you stepped closer, your hands clammy and cold. Then, you saw them through the crack in the door.

Naruto was leaning toward another woman, someone you immediately recognized as a kunoichi who worked closely with him. They were far too close, their hands brushing against each other, looking at one another as if they were the only people in the world, sharing a moment that left no room for misinterpretation.

The ground seemed to disappear beneath your feet. Everything you had built with him—all the trust, promises, and dreams—shattered in that instant. But then, anger surged through your veins, burning away the shock. The pain and rage churned in your chest, suffocating you, but you refused to remain silent. With firm steps, you pushed the door open, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoing in the room.

“Naruto?” Your voice trembled, but not from fear—from barely restrained fury.

Both of them turned to you, startled. Naruto stood up immediately, his face pale.

“Love… this isn’t what it looks like.”

You crossed your arms, your gaze fixed solely on him. The disappointment in your eyes was unmistakable. It felt like your heart was being ripped apart, the betrayal cutting deeper because he had been your friend before anything else.

“Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like while I’m at home waiting for you, doing everything I can to keep this relationship afloat, you’re here… having fun?”

Naruto froze. You were right. He had neglected you for something that offered a fleeting distraction in his relentless life, something that wasn’t even worth it. That’s why he hadn’t left you—because he still loved you more than anything, just as he had since you were children, when he used to tease you about marrying him someday, and you’d laugh, saying he’d never deserve you. How right you had been.

The kunoichi stood, uncomfortable in the heavy silence between you.

“I should go…” she murmured, but you raised a hand, stopping her instantly. Your Sharingan flared to life, its fiery red gaze freezing her in place.

“No. Stay. This isn’t just my issue—it involves you too.” You turned your attention back to Naruto. “So? What’s going on here?”

Naruto swallowed hard, avoiding your gaze. “It’s not what you think. She was just helping me with some documents. It’s late, and we were just relaxing a little.”

You let out a bitter laugh. The sound sent a chill down Naruto’s spine—it reminded him of Sasuke’s icy fury, and for the first time, he felt afraid. He had never seen you like this.

“Relaxing? Do you know how many nights I’ve spent alone while you’re ‘working’? How many times I’ve convinced myself this is just a phase, that things would get better?” Your voice cracked. “How long has this been going on?”

“I’m not doing anything!” Naruto responded, louder than necessary. But his uncertain expression betrayed him.

You shook your head, the pain and frustration finally spilling over as tears you could no longer hold back.

“You always said you loved me, that I was your priority. But I’m not, am I? You don’t even have the decency to admit it!”

The kunoichi stepped back, startled by your rising anger, and tried to intervene. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble—”

Without looking at her, you spoke coldly, your voice sharp as a blade. “You’ve caused enough trouble. Leave.”

She nodded quickly and left, leaving you and Naruto alone in the room, the air thick with tension.

“I…” Naruto began, but you raised a hand to stop him.

“No more excuses, Naruto. I always tried to be understanding, but this… this is something I can’t ignore.”

Naruto tried to approach you, but you stepped back, the thought of his touch repulsing you.

“I need you to stay away from me,” you said firmly, though your heart ached as the words left your lips. “I want you out of my house.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked out of the office, leaving Naruto alone, guilt etched into his face. The frustration boiled over as he swept everything off his desk, tears burning his cheeks.

That night, as you walked home with your heart in pieces, a decision began to form in your mind. You needed to leave Konoha, at least for a while. You had devoted your life to someone who had once meant everything to you. But now, you realized you had lost Naruto long before that night.

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melankkholy · 15 hours ago

Text

what size does love wear? (part 1)

✎ The lights, the podium, and the spotlight are all yours. As an upstart model, your life went by pleasantly with the girls, but maybe you were too dim to realize that you were living in an illusion. Could Leon, the one and only rockstar of the hearts, be the man you were waiting for in a milieu full of counterfeit people, or are you too much of a hopeless romantic?

cw: NO MINORS AND I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY IT, messy messy messy, drugz, fem! model reader, family drama aka daddy and mommy issues, very uncanny and might be disturbing for some people idek, vom!ting and possibly or (references to the eating disorders), p in v, oral (fem! receiving) praises, reader is going thru some shii, MDNI, that's all i can come up with, but please let me know if i missed something very vital, and find the song lyrics:3

It all unfolds that night at a soirée to which you were invited in the most gingerbread-like language.

You don’t have a clue how fat cats hang out at such a lavish icebreaker. That these people took you in very recently, right after your meteoric rise to superstardom, and with a wham bang. You didn’t quite make it onto the Hollywood Walk of Fame with all those big golds and jet-set stars, sure, but your killer legs, waist, and pretty tits promised you a chance to eavesdrop a wee bit on Victoria’s secret. Well, who knows? Maybe one day, even without any formal studies in acting, you could star as an aspiring actor in some movie and kiss the handsome and beefcake famous guys. You could be the next lead in a new goofy movie like Fifty Shades of Grey. Hollywood is full of pretty model casts these days, anyway.

So many possibilities.

Mostly with your height, physique, and poise, which would make most men who can’t be more than 5 feet and 7 inches tall (barely) outclass them in every way (never mind the grandfatherly inheritance that your mother inherited from whomever-whatever-who-cares and your surname that unexpectedly gained a notoriety, even your daddy abruptly switched to your mother’s maiden name on paper), you’re the size perfection angel of the runways. Precious, precious you.

A happy family tableau with your mother, who doesn’t listen to your advice to break up with that man, who happens to be your father, and he has a mania for alcohol and the girls younger than him of late.

The only vestige of this particular and domestic picture is you here, dressed in the elegance of a collectible piece from a costly collection of so-and-so, to the party you were summoned to.

“It tastes like shit.”

Claire’s whining in front of you, idly brandishing a hurricane glass full of bubbly as pale pink and powdery as her rosy cheeks. Thankful for the leverage of your elbows on the bistro table between you, you lift your chin, planted in the inner cushions of your joined palms, and give her a passing glance. Then your starry eyes drift back to the human orgy you’ve been tracking since the moment you stepped in the venue.

A myriad of eminent names. How exciting to be able to see their imperfect skin up close under the veneer of make-up. Turns out there is a huge Photoshop business going on in this particular circus.

Still, it’s hard not to get caught up in the allure of their luster. Thinking about how you were unanticipatedly plunged into a world of gold and silver, of all the thesauri that connote the existence of riches, you should absolutely bask in it—if they’ll let you.

“You’ve had too much to drink.” Jill gives Claire a little mouth joke from beside her, which elicits a muttered snort from Claire.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Dunno. Maybe snort a line or two. Together.”

“You could’ve told me from the start, Valentine.” Claire rolls her eyes and surveys you with her big blue lenses.

“Hey, you.”

You look up at Claire, a giddy smile lacing your lips.

“Huh?”

“Get in the back room. Jill, you and I are getting the motherfucking sniff on some good coke.”

Coke. Oh, great.

The hot “sport” of your demographic. Once your wacky mom’s, too.

The poison you swore you’d never put your mouth (actually your nose) on, or the antidote to survival, as your father would call it.

A silly little girl’s dumbest and greatest fear.

But you’re too much of a sucker to risk losing a high-profile group of friends like Jill and Claire, the only two girls you respect in this game of whatever. Just reject them, and in a fraction of a second, you’ll be all alone, and people here would pulverize you raw.

So without saying a word, you tag along behind them on a whim, as if cocaine is your passion. Since your friends are here, you just came to kick it.

The proverbial back room turns out to be really far back.

The smell of weed is tangy and mixed with other substances you can’t name the second you walk in. The scent of perfume adds a different festivity. Leaves a seductive melody and holds promises to give you airborne wings.

This must be the precise definition of getting wasted.

A few familiar faces greet you, occasionally stopping your group of three to take a quick photo—a social media travesty, for a photo that implies that the girl who wrapped her arms around you in nylon hugs with her platinum blonde and padded lips, whom you haven’t even said a word to yet, is a hoot on your social media account. Is it worth it?

Hell, maybe.

Followers are everything, even for you.

Chris, ass up, nose to nose in the coarse dust strewn on the glass surface table of the Boeing 707, straightens up as three pairs of heels materialize in front of him, oozing through the see-through transparency of the glass table.

“You’d be a great big brother if you didn’t always finish the best one ahead of us.”

“I’m always a big and great brother.” Chris Redfield, big and virile, stretches up in front of your eyes and wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve like a credit card sliding horizontally and smoothly through a POS machine.

Just like a goddamned joke.

In flesh and blood, Chris Redfield, the lead guitarist—a member of the very band you’ve been a diehard fan of since you were a teenager and whose songs have lulled you into slumber—is in front of you. Yes, you really were sleeping with rock music playing in the background.

His pupils are vacant. Like his cranium.

“You all look like those three girls from that cartoon where a professor accidentally creates three special strong girls—ahhh—what was the name again?”

“Powerpuff Girls?” Jill interjects at Chris’ reference with a wan grin, leaning her leg over the glass tilt table. Claire also crouches in front of her and clasps onto Jill’s knees. Almost as if she’s biding her time to eat her out. She might do that. Later.

“Yeah!” Chris snaps his fingers.

“Uh, I...” You spring forward to introduce yourself before the conversation drifts. Girls are already nose-dipping in the dusty spill on the table, and you stick your hand out to Chris.

Surprisingly, he accepts the handshake straight away. In the course of these formal introductions, whenever you were to extend your hand to someone, they’d be looking you over from head to toe like you were a little bit of a poseur. Ironically, Chris welcomes you with a genuine smile. It seems modesty hasn’t kicked the bucket.

You’re being all polite, handing Chris your name, and then—cue dramatic music—someone crashes through the pivot door like it’s a Hollywood blockbuster.

Every head turns in the cumulative direction of the sound, all but assured by the door’s dramatic swoosh, all collectively.

Turns out it’s none other than Leon Kennedy, the finest and equally “big-time rockin’ rock star of the twentieth generation,” as they say.

“His ass again?” Claire pipes up from where she’s sitting. She’s not a big fan of Leon. She has her reasons. In the interest of brevity, Claire and Leon had, in fact, dated in the interim. Once upon a time, there was a ship named Cleon, a name the adoring admirers nicknamed their own ship name in all corners of the tabloids.

While you can understand how ticked off she is, you might as well not do it at all. There is, at last, a deck of cards in front of you that you may see for the first and last time in your life. In fact, he is even moving towards you with his own confident steps.

For you, it’s a moment of blimey, but for him it’s as natural and insignificant as the instinct to pee when he’s drunk too much stuff.

“Hi there.”

Now you can understand people amplifying at the mere sound of a certain voice and, if necessary, wetting their pants, pussies, and dicks—Leon isn’t the pickiest about it, really. Now everything makes total sense. He must be getting laid as much as he’s making money with his mouth.

And he is. Add a pinch of that buzzing singing voice to a muscular body, a tall stature, and money in swollen pockets, and Leon gets what he wants in a jiffy. Kiss his ass if you will.

“There’s my cutest groupie.” Leon waves at Claire, heading for a fall.

Claire draws her middle finger at him and bites back a repartee.

Not a single name he doesn’t speak in the narrow circle of this social outlet. Then he sees you, and the wheel of fortune takes a reversal.

A newfangled face, delicate facial expressions, and striking beauty. Clearly, you’re the precious neophyte around here.

The art of the soft soap in the eccentric azure of his eyes is hard to miss. A depth to be dug into with picks and shovels.

How he greets you with a small mental shake of his head in contrast to his expressive gaze is enough for the conventional first pleasantries.

It’s hard to calculate how much it’s right to cast pointed glances at your friend’s ex-boyfriend. On a more cursory inspection, you and Claire weren’t that close, at least not close enough to make those ground rules—chicks before dicks ones. (Excuses!) You definitely need proper shrinks.

“Fucker.” Claire coughs up any remaining resentment in an epithetical whisper under her breath.

The exes find their way out of the scene, separated, and Claire tugs on your arm and flings herself straight into the dance floor. Leave it to Leon to steal a glance at you. He stares long and hard at the beauty next to his ex as you stomp off the scene. To Leon, the past is in the past, and the present is here to be remade. It’s nerve-racking when you leave, but he loves to watch you walking away.

And Jill is too doped up on cocaine to join you all.

“We never would have come if we knew he’d be here.” You tell Claire as she strums her hips to a peppy groove. You just want to bring your girl back to earth, even if it’s just a pulse.

“What? Jesus! Can’t hear you, gorgeous!” Claire curls her hands at the corners of her mouth as she lets it out. Of course she can’t hear you over this hubbub. You’re such an airhead.

But point taken. You shrug your shoulders as if to say it’s nothing and dance in unison to the song along with her jigging dance moves.

The DJ gets you moving with the record and the tempo of his tunes, the laser disco lights blinking on and off like thunder, making you dizzy from the jetlagged fatigue of the fateful night. For how many hours have you been standing in these Pigalle Follies and guzzling Silver Oak? God, you’re a mess. A hot one, that is.

The flashing disco lights alternately brighten and dazzle your eyes. You can’t even take a step, let alone do the dance. Sure, you’re running on fumes, but at least you look cute doing it.

That’s what happens when you drink on an empty stomach. Stupid bitch, you’re chewing yourself out.

Lights are moving sideways and up and down.

The sweat beading on the hair gathered at the nape of your neck is cold. You blink your eyes and cast them around for Claire, dim and desperate. Not a single facsimile of a peer stands.

Okay, but where’s she?

You push your way through the flesh and blood horde and find your way out of the club to the back door. Threshing, you flounder out of a dented metal door. The pit of your stomach is parched, as if tiny worms have colonized your entrails and organs.

Your hand pressed against your midsection is of no help.

Leaning against the wall, you’re propped up; you squint at the figure of a man (?) that now unfolds in front of you with the swoosh of the door. A lighted cigarette in his hand, he makes a knife-edge turn and spots you right off the bat.

Sewn into his eyes is a tapestry of something akin to concern. They are adumbral but bloodless and ultramarine.

Voices buzzing in your ear burst the bag of intricacies with a sharp pinprick. When you can feel the echoes finally reaching your earbuds, you can vaguely feel the man reaching for your forearm and tracing circles on your skin with soothing strokes.

“What the hell are you so tipsy for?”

Tipsy? Hell? He’s probing something about you.

“Leave me alone.”

“What? Leave you like this in the middle of an alley? What are you? Five?”

Your stomach produces a strange twinge, right there, in that very second.

You totter, but the man holding you by the arm means what he says.

“Look at you. What a fucking mess, huh, girl?” There he goes, tutting you like it’s his favorite sport.

“Don’t push it, Leon. What’re you, my mother?”

You just frown and shoot him a syringe of Claire’s inherited hatred but in your style.

“Go away. I’ll be fine.”

With all the audacity of a brilliant I-fucking-hate-my-best-friend’s-ex-boyfriend, you pull your arm free of his reach.

“They’ll eat you alive in here. You know that, right?” His voice is scratchy, preaching to you, but it’s emptier than a banker’s heart. His gaze, as in.

You don’t know. Makes you edgy, this one fucker.

“Why do you care?”

Really. What’s it really to him? Leon, too, in the clash of a second and a spontaneous question, unexpectedly finds himself striving for words.

When you push off the wall against which you were leaning, balance beats the hell out of you. Standing on the spikes of your heels is like an arsenal of iron nuts. So much so that Leon sucks in his breath in sheer exasperation before gripping you tightly by the forearm and flicking the glowing amber stub to the ground. Savior complex moment perhaps; he’s a martyr to his savior complex, not even understanding why he’s going this far.

“Where’re those girls you’re always stuck with? Claire and Jill?”

Obviously you don’t have an answer to that. You, for that matter, don’t have an answer to anything in the preamble. You just gawk at him with a vagabond animus.

You brush it off with a dejected shrug, and the withering stare you garner from him is quite enough to put you in your place, and then more. The abject skeleton in the closet that follows is beyond telling.

The puddle of bile that you can’t hold in any longer gushes out of your mouth. There and then. Luckily, courtesy of your miraculous reflexes, you turn your back on him and excrete the stagnant liquor in your system.

Leon retaliates by stepping back, as your arm falls out of his hands and you stoop, knees sore. A nervy and explosive burst of emotion is impinging on his face. You can’t see it, but you can more or less picture what kind of acrimony he’s donning.

What a perfect first impression spectacle.

Your gagging voice dies from throwing up in the empty streets; warm, misty tears well up in your eyes, the usual stuff, but the averse touch of his hand brushing your hair back from your face is a special ooh.

“You’re so fucked up.”

He couldn’t be more serious.

“You’re so pretty.”

You can’t be serious either!

But just as you lift your head to give him an answer, your stomach lurches to your feet one more time. So yes, you called your close friend’s singer boyfriend “pretty” in its truest essence, in all its pomp and circumstance. Delirious and graphic, hats off to you. You feel dizzy and more than ever dead. Like dead dead, open mouth, insert foot. The nebulous valance in front of your eyes is as opaque as an unaesthetic Instagram filter. Your balance is in tatters, and you slump, and then a thickset arm supports the back of your head securely.

How you made it through the dawn is a big red question mark.

The bundle of sunlight struck by the zenith of the alarming number of the morning is bright and citrusy. Almost no trace of its golden amber flavor. That’s because it’s not a morning sun. This is a midday sun.

You finally open your eyes at two o’clock in the forenoon. The sight that awaits you... what the hell is this?

This certainly isn’t your house, but whose residence is this?

And most importantly, where are your clothes? Why are you in your underwear?

You swallow the venin on the underside of the tongue, finding no strings as you idle around because you don’t even have any clues to connect the pieces together.

Could you have gotten so hammered yesterday that you fucked someone like those people in the movies?

At least he’s rich.

The interior is lavishly decked out; your restless eyes drift from the bed to the rows of frames on the wall. Pictures and hyperlinks and whatnot. Why would anyone hang a picture of the fucking Golden Gate Bridge in their bedroom?

What kind of moron did you fuck last night?

It’s up to you to figure out the equation.

You slip on a tacky jacket and spring out of bed. When you pick up your phone and peer at the screen and see that the digital numbers are advancing by leaps and bounds, you dash out of the room. Whatever the fuck you did in this bed yesterday with whomever you did it with has to be consigned to the past. No time for any of that. That’s what one-night stands are all about.

“Oh, fuck. Claire, I overslept. You gotta help me sway Ada so she doesn’t give me a hard time, babe.” Your fingers are rapidly drumming, and your eyes are on the screen as you thump into someone’s fucking chest.

It’s like lightning is spinning in your head. The phone falls out of your hand and thuds a heartbeat on the floor. Ouch. No shit. Apple, what a shitty marque of ass.

“My phone!”

It seems no matter how much money is just a green piece of paper to you now, or digital numbers with fat zeros in your bank account, there will always be a staunch ghetto in you. Somewhere deep in your very psyche.

“Jeez. Relax.” He crouches down and picks up the very remnant of your hapless phone.

“What happened to ‘hi’ and ‘hello’?”

No, but wait a second.

The distinct sound of yesterday’s “tryst.”

“Leon!”

Apparently your memory has erased all the barf memories from last night. Give them a little time, and they’ll chip away piece by piece and roast you in vile hell for the rest of the day.

“Leon!” He’s impersonating your voice, or rather your holler. Pretty much verbatim. It’s disturbingly good. He hands you your phone. The screen is cracked and spiderwebbed, and you take it reluctantly. Cough it up. You have to get a new model.

“Is this your place?”

“Eh. Like what you see?”

He’s acting like it’s all fun and games, and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash if the sky fell. His arrogance is of a priceless candor.

Just take a deep breath, in and now out. Everything’s all right. Everything is right as rain.

No way you fucked your best friend’s ex-boyfriend. You refuse to believe that.

“Why am I here?”

Leon gets the message.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t want to spoil your good mood by regaling you with your yesterday throw-up story, and he doesn’t want you to start your day like that. Everyone deserves to have a good day, and especially after a night of fuckery like last night, you need a whole Mediterranean circumnavigation.

“Look, sweetheart,” he begins, “let me buy you a brunch, yeah? There’s this place, okay? Down the block. Oh, they whip up scrambled eggs so fine. I’m talking about finger-licking good.”

He really is treating you over for some “brunch.”.

But why does everything have to be piled on top of each other? He just leaves you high and dry.

“Come on. Omelet and coffee. Yummy. Huh, and a special mix for you that’ll sober up a hangover.” Leon reaches out his hand to you as if in a desperate bargain.

“It’s a special Kennedy remedy.”

Your eyes fall on his outstretched palm while he’s grinning winningly.

“Sure. Why not? You do owe me an explanation anyway.”

There you go. He’s got you under his thumb now—like a walk in the park.

“Nice bra.” Leon can barely avert his eyes from your cleavage. “But don't forget to change, sunshine. I reckon I can find a spare shirt for ya.”

What a dipshit.

Rest is a moot point.

You’re not exactly sitting with the shittiest man in the world and chowing down on a portion of omelette. Really, the place where he brought you for a meal isn’t bad enough to be described as decent.

“So last night—”

He derails the conversation.

“No. We didn’t.” He sips his coffee, which dribbles down his parched throat. He’s been telling you this story for what seems like forever, even though it’s downright laughable—something hard to believe.

Pleasantly enough, you manage to shake off the blues, but now Leon’s hot under the collar.

The truth is, these bitter coffees are not his cup of tea, ’cause he loves tea more, but when he saw you getting a heavy Caffè Americano, he ended up ordering one too, just for a little spice.

Now Leon regrets his decision. Never again. Vanilla all the way, long live crony capitalism.

“I can’t even bring myself to believe it.”

“Neither can I. Who knew you had a little Viking god in you?”

“Viking god?”

Leon nods in approbation. The musing is rather sweet, but too much sweetness makes your cheeks fat, and that’s the absolute last thing you need. Pounds. Swollen face.

“They drink heavily too, don’t they?”

“I don’t drink that much,” you rectify him.

“You do. I know a blackout drunk when I see one.”

You palm your face in dismay, because how long can you put up with this charade?

“Why did you drink all that?”

For what does it matter to him? That you have to implicitly profess to him that you detest him. Can’t be buddy-buddy with someone Claire hates; blood and guts be damned.

“Nevermind. I mean, you don’t always get some chivalrous knight on a white horse coming to your rescue. Watch yourself. Get your shit together next time.”

Get your shit together.’

You’re not planning to get your life together, which has never been in order, on his say-so.

This is no picnic.

That day, after that specific coffee date, not only were you tardy for the last rehearsal, but you were also vituperated by Claire.

“I don’t trust you.”

“Claire, I swear to you—”

“Oh, not this again!”

Sheva’s writhing between you and Claire, her head is cracking open, so to speak. She keeps one hand on your shoulder and the other on Claire’s forearm, but her arms draw back, both of you rebuffing her every gesture.

“You showed up in his jacket. For fuck’s sake. You’re looking me in the eye and fucking lying to me.”

“It’s not what you think.”

Your words have always been meager in expressing your true self-defense. It’s no better now.

“So you really are fighting over a guy. This is really happening. Girls, this guy bleaches his hair regularly!” Sheva chimes in and maintains her equanimity. What you are doing is quite puerile in her eyes.

“I wonder how you’d react if your best friend fucked your ex-boyfriend, Sheva. Would you be so cool and mighty about it?”

Aww. She still considers you her BFF.

“Yeah, that’s what it’s called, an ex! Why can’t you just believe her? If you can’t trust your best friend, who else can you trust?” Sheva nudges Claire with a little gust of force, and Claire slumps down on the couch. She’s cross and indignant and doesn’t care that her butt stings when Sheva pushes her.

Seems calmer, or that’s what you’re praying for. Please let it be so. Please, please, friendship Gods and Goddesses.

“You need to believe me, Claire. I told you.”

Not a word comes out of her mouth, and she purses her million-dollar lips closely. Looking like she can’t decide on what might fall out of her tongue.

“I didn’t sleep with Leon.”

You grovel on your knees; just how pathetic you can be when you want to be.

Another last whine, forlorn (you may have already said the same thing a hundred times since you’ve arrived home).

“You saw it on my dress. Full of fucking retch, Claire!”

More details to go, and you wish you could explain to her how utterly incapacitated you were last night. From under her pretty eyelashes, she gives you a downcast appraisal.

“I went out for some air after dancing with you. I was a mess, Claire. I looked everywhere for you. Then he came, and, you know, silly me, I fucking dozed off.”

Sheva hugs her arms across her chest, monitoring a hushed and more subdued conversation between the two of you. Probably best not to interrupt.

“Ugh. He always loved being the big hero.” Claire finally swallows her reticence, endearingly vacillating. Thank God.

“Don’t fall for him. Don’t be a moron. God, you’re so stupid. You don’t even know it. He’ll set you up in a game, and before you know it, you’ll be stuck in the mud.”

Well, you weren’t expecting a herd of counselors from your best friend. It leaves a peppery ginger on your tongue.

“Pfff. Claire, don’t be ridiculous. You really think I’m hung up on Leon? He’s not my type. Piers is my type, duh.” You say it like the kookiest thing you’ve ever heard in your life.

For all the things you don’t know, you speak with the vanity of a clueless nepo baby, as if you’ve been in this line of endeavor since the day you were born.

“I saw the way he looked at you. I know that look.”

Ha. Now she’s channeling the ultimate Daenerys Targaryen speech.

“Very well, Claire Targaryen.” You smile dotingly at her, thinking it wouldn’t harm sharing a witty little tidbit.

“Seriously... just go, okay? Leave me alone.”

That’s where the rubber hits the road. Claire, your dearest friend, wants you out of here. It’s unbelievable. In your head, your memory is bare and there are no words, but your heart is crushed in a tearful pain that you can’t articulate. There are no labels or names for this feeling in your vocabulary.

You blink at her, twice and your smile frazzle subtly.

She won’t change her mind, that is for sure. She wants you gone.

You get up and walk out of there while you can. Sheva lingers behind you, but you’re fast and rightfully upset.

Wearing Leon’s Schott jacket and the t-shirt combo he provided is not exactly the kind of fancy getaway you’d want to pull off, but you’re quite adamant.

You go to the only place you can go.

To home.

It’s been years; you haven’t seen your parents, and who knows what it’s like now? In the car, your model face, admired by millions, the one you bequeathed from those two people who hated each other like a curse on their souls so passionately, is in a state of shambles.

Walking into the garden of a vast estate your mom bought for a pittance, you can spot your father’s nifty all-black Stellantis. It sparkles in the glow of the porch light just above the main doorjamb.

You cringe and then look at the door and the gold-engraved “welcome” inscription on the double sash of the wooden door. Just how “cozy” would it be to step in here again after so many years?

As you muster up the guts within yourself to ring the doorbell, the door itself flies open. Two pairs of eyes you’ve never seen before, but who instantly identify your face, are staring at one another.

“Oh my God! It’s you!” The girl is the walking example of the L.A. accent itself.

Since she’s wearing a skintight “daddy’s girl” tank top and a short denim skirt, odds are good that you’re talking to one of your dad’s new dollies. You know, the bimbo and the Barbie ones.

She envelops you in a bear hug. Sweet, toffee, and mucilaginous undertones of muscat perfume overwhelm all your senses.

“I’m your biggest fan. Oh, my room and my walls are full of your latest Vogue photoshoots. Versace was such a fantastic choice for your palette. That dress... ah! I-uh. Was. In. Love.”

There’s a certain luster in the girl’s eyes as she goes on and on. Really, Dad, how old could this poor girl be? You can’t stop thinking about it, but the more you think about it, the more deeply it sickens you.

“Thanks.”

As riveted as you were by the prospect, you had gotten far enough in this biz to learn how to keep those around you at bay with fake cheerful smiles. Perhaps you really do have that rampaging Hollywood blood coursing through your veins.

“I came to see my dad, but—”

She sweeps her arm down from your shoulder to your waist, and with her free hand, she whips out her flip phone, smiling at the camera.

“Say cheese!”

You don’t.

Your pose with a faded pallor mirrors on her screen, and you catch a dubious glance from her. She’s plainly querying you.

“A little smile would do you good...”

“Bitch.” She nags the last word in a barely audible coo, clammed up more than any of the preceding chunks of words that came out of her mouth.

Excellent.

Like you have no problems, and you have to put up with this horseshit. Why did you even bother coming here? This house isn’t even your home. Not anymore. They’ve carted away everything from your childhood, and a handful of crumbs of fragmentary images of the past are all that’s left of any of it for you.

No point insisting on three drips of memories in a life that takes many liters to survive. Nostalgia is frivolous.

Besides, you feel bitchy enough to give this girl her paycheck.

Except your dearest father does intervene. His noisome mug never dims a morsel, not even when he sees you.

“What a strange coincidence, sweetheart.”

“Certainly is.”

Forget it.

Could a man who never knew how to be a decent father suddenly, by some strange turn of fate, come to discover what it means to be one? You’re a delusional one. This is just one of your little glitches—the very first instinct of a little girl running to her daddy any time she’s hurt. He never knew how to mend and heal those little wounds in the first place.

“Why did you come here?” Your father’s brows shoot to his hairline. A horrible sight for his hair is receding. Reprehensibly.

Doesn’t look like he’s going to let you in, though. He appears quite happy with his new girlfriend on his arm, and his common-law wife, your mother, is somewhere who knows where.

“Well. It’s Mom.” You perjure, drawing a blank verse or two. Moments like these are precisely when the words essentially latch at the base of your throat.

“She’s not here.”

“Ha. Yeah. I can see that.” Your facial tissues, your lips, they all start to ache from ersatz smiling arts and language. Poker face can only do what it costs.

“I think—”

“You need to—”

Your words and your father’s words jar with one another. It’s a mess. Even for a glimpse, it baffles you how much emotion there is in the old man’s face. And him too. His girlfriend rolls her eyes, a numbing distaste for the father and daughter in all this kerfuffle.

“Ugh. This is so boring.”

She walks inside.

You nervously fidget with the folds of the jacket Leon gave you as a provisional.

“I think I’d better go.”

“You’re right.” The old man clears his throat as if he were about to overcome an obstacle. He’s silently begging you to put an end to his misery here, and you’re doing that just fine; you’re always ready to walk the tracks.

“Good night, Dad.”

“Night, kiddo. I’ll call you when your mom gets home.”

“Sure. I’ll be waiting.”

You won’t. How would anybody give a fuck? It’s too late.

It’s nothing but a night alone for a wounded heart and the coveting of a whim that never had a chance to bloom.

Either your menstrual cycle is nearing or the end is near.

The billboards are lit up with crystallized lights. It’s a visual. Makes your eyes glaze over a bit.

The sign just above it reads “THE END IS NEAR!” in capital lettering. Above that are plaques with the new single releases of Leon and his group. He’s the talk of the city, and the world for that matter, so his face is in the foreground, a cerebral display, and Chris and Carlos’ faces are hot on his shoulders. The chorus of their million-selling track on Spotify is rasping in your frostbitten ears. Leon’s voice is a smooth crossover riff, raspy, and he’s making love with the bass guitar.

On the terrace where you are sitting, a breeze gently caresses your face, leaving the crisp touch of snow on your cheek. The cold sinks into your veins, blue-tinted blood rushing through your body, no thanks to the booze. You feel queerly toasty.

Leon’s jacket definitely lasts through the cold winters. It’s like your personal furnace.

The traffic is hectic past the glass handrail, jostled by the car lights streaming down, and the first baby snowflakes of January are pelting down from the sky. It’s quite late, the rush hour of hungover midnight.

Even as the elliptical chases the minute hand, you watch the passers-by. The prominent and whitewashed faces are just names. They greet you, acknowledge you with gracious smiles, but that’s it. Never so genuine that they would actually sit down next to you.

Except for one name.

Except for Leon, who, in what must have been an illusory twist of fate, casually crosses the table with a flute of champagne in his hand.

He doesn’t recognize you at first when he passes by your booth, but on the second glance, he captures that swan-like grace at once.

Stepping backwards, as if he’s moonwalking, he skips over to your side to forestall your horrified side-eye.

“I shoulda known you were a vampire. You never sleep.”

He thinks he’s made a stylish enough debut with these words. Whatever it takes to charm you.

“No, come on. Are you stalking me?”

“Nah. I’m too much of a busy man for that kind of thing, sweetheart. Though I’ve heard on some fanfiction sites that there are people out there. They write me off as a complete weirdo.”

He slides into the chair straight across from you.

“Check it out when you’re feeling like it.”

Absently your eyes wander over his shoulder and zero in on the mass of light in the distance. In shimmering floodlights, people are laughing and making TikTok videos, some twerking, others striking jaunty poses for the camera for their thirst trap edits. Bread and butter for the fans.

“’s rude to overlook someone when they’re talking to you. Didn’t your mother tell you that?”

In your consciousness, you realize that even Leon’s name is lost in the cacophony of your milieu. You still do have a problem named Leon at this table.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Time for what?”

Thoughts pile up in the back of your foggy brain, but they don’t coalesce into a harmonious, final answer. The blurry words worm their way out of your mouth, and they evaporate in the bitter cold air.

Should you be kind and remind him that you’re weak?

“I don’t know.” You bluntly say, but Leon can smell the suspense.

“Are you drunk again?”

The arch of your eyebrow furrows instinctively, automatic as the blooming of a flower when you water it—flourishing and blushing. But drown it too much, and it wilts, fades. He just doesn’t grasp it, can’t get it through his thick skull that you don’t want to chit-chat.

Be that as it may, there’s one fact that’s indisputable: you want to fuck him. You’re simply at odds with yourself.

The more Leon comes at you, the more you’re falling into error, but beggars can’t be choosers.

It’s unfortunate that you can roll over when you feel a stone.

That thing you’re ruthlessly searching for could quite possibly be Leon. He’s the one who has reduced you to the devil’s quarry himself. Either that or you’re the one in extremis.

Right now, however, it’s a bet neither of you care about. Unworthy of further discussion. Mouths are otherwise occupied.

Your mouth shamelessly hyphenates his name while his mouth ecstasies on the honeydew betwixt your spread legs. Your eyes roll graphically as the tip of his nose, which looks good when he takes a snort from the lining of vanilla icys, bumps against the nacre of your clit a crack or two. It’s like you’re possessed by something, by demons or poltergeists.

The sullen and muffled fumes of profanity are belching out of the bedroom door where he’s propping you up against it. This is the very public domain information; Leon Kennedy is an excellent pussy eater.

It’s one thing to hear from the women he’s slept with that he’s that swell; it’s quite something else to have the saccharine taste of your cunt melting in his mouth like cotton candy on the tip of his tongue just then.

“Leon... fuck. No. Want it.” Your tongue is all dry.

You can’t remember the last time you felt the highs of ecstasy from a tongue fuck like this. Hollywood is full of people with small dicks, and the whole insertion and pull-out game sucks here, foreplay is long gone.

Luckily, you can always take a chance on someone (actually your best friend’s ex-boyfriend) who at least knows how to worship what he sees, and you reap the rewards of the risk you take. And he feels generous enough to let you have it all tonight.

With a touch as sensuous as a butterfly’s wing, his thumb meanders through your aching bundle of nerves, igniting a fire of euphoria through your body. When he lightly palms your opening, when he feels the plushness of your slick walls, a delicate breath escapes your mouth, akin to a prayer of subservience to this very moment of pure pinch and rapture.

“So sweet when you cum.”

He blows your mind, the story of how you got here, the blowjob you pulled on him in his car — all that’s in the past. The only thing that matters is that you need to forget everything that happened tonight in the morning and the painstaking labor of that commitment. Pulling his belt on and off takes no extra time flat. His aching erection takes a toll on Leon, both psychologically and physically.

When he tucks you properly into his bed, he casts a phantom over you like he’s your own exclusive brand of ghost. Kissing on a first date was never his thing, but he can’t let you go when his lips are still tantalized by your moreish taste.

He’s making a nicer entrance than you’d expect and then some; you’re squeezing him so tightly, and he’s stippling hot kisses across the tender flesh of your throat.

Breathless and forehead to forehead is too romantic and superfluous for a debut tryst, but that’s what rebound sex is for.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Maybe he’s louder than you are in these seconds— in these very seconds of his whet of thrust followed by the seconds of him pulling out soon to only bully back into your dewy cunt.

Makes your head reeling, and he wallows in the sin of the tightness stretching around the sheer girth of his cock.

“Pussy’s so fucking good. She’s all swollen from me.” His whisper is fervid and sweeping against your cheek.

Yes. Indeed, his mouth doesn’t seem to be shutting up here either, even when he’s fucking you deep in his own bed.

The deep azure shade of his eyes is clouded with pearlescent blue; his pupils are pitch-black orbs, and he watches his cock slide in and out of your drenched pussy in chaotic upheaval, the metal of his frenum piercing taunting your swollen clit as you drape his dick in a warm cocoon.

“Pretty, pretty pussy suckin’ me so nice, yeah?” His voice is a throaty whisper that makes your poor, mushy brain tingle tunefully — an acrid, itchy scab that has just covered the wound.

“Fuck,” he grunts crassly, “been thinking about this all—ungh!—night—this fucking skirt up and fucking you real loud, baby.”

Seriously, he could just write a song or a lengthy poem for your lovely pussy right here and then.

A hubristic tinge variegates his pink lips, a wicked one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s enjoying this; hell, he’s fucking loving it. His laugh-like treble is a low rumble, as he pounds into you with a little more force, a little more urgency. The bed rocks under you, groaning abjectly.

“C’mon, baby, cum on my cock. Y’know I got you. I got you so good.”

Once bodies and emotions are merged, they move into a harmonic coherence, and just like that, he makes you cum for the second time tonight. A string of bland events that are frozen in your brain, clinging to your fiber, you feel your own tears trickling down your cheek in an attempt to get rid of them in one fell swoop, barely blinking open your eyes.

You cradle his cheek closer, pushing away the wisps of hair falling in curtains in front of his blues. You want to kiss away the cruelty that cloaks his lips, but Leon, unable to tear himself away from your pussy that is still squeezing him, is too engrossed for such kisses.

One blink and you’ll miss that fleeting moment as the seconds tick by, Leon barely pulls out a shred from you and strokes his cock on your belly until he finds comfort in it, painting white ribbons on your dainty skin.

Seconds afterwards are spent on your own, burdened by the cost of your one night’s slip-up, and you stare at each other wide-eyed.

Two pairs of eyes, parted lips, and a kind of rare prettiness you usually find in men that will haunt you for a while. Ken blonde hair aglow in the light of the dawn and buried layers of emotions locked away in secrets that are too debauched to divulge.

Pearls of promise on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t dare spill them out. Heaven will hate you. Claire will hate you.

In Leon’s estimation, per contra, you’re a damsel in distress, big eyes and a girl who has somehow succeeded in wrapping all her depravity in the thin threads of her angelic eyes. Seraphic but dangerous. An inner part of his brain keeps hammering into his brain that everything has only just begun.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy

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sebastianstangirl01 · 1 day ago

Text

✧˖° Bring The Lion Out | Pogues & Rafe

pairing - the pogues x cameron!reader, rafe cameron x sister!reader

warnings - violence, language, attempted assault

summary - a fun day at the beach quickly took a turn when the the baby of the group gets cornered by a couple of kooks who don’t have good intentions. luckily she has her friends and siblings who will do anything to protect her.

authors note - i am going to be using the name audrey again for this fic, obviously this fic is not at all related to my last one about rafe. using audrey is just easier for me instead of y/n, mainly bc it is my name lol and i can just type it mindlessly. but obviously feel free to use whatever name you want and imagine the character anyway you want! her nickname is going to be baby, kinda like baby in dirty dancing, so that’s what most everyone is going to call her! i hope you all enjoy!!

requested - yes!

not proofread!!

✧˖°

summer in the obx was nothing less than magical. the weather was hot during the day, perfect for getting a nice tan, and cooler when the sun went down making thin blankets or sweatshirts your best friend.

audrey “baby” cameron has always loved summer. in the past she would spend her time surfing with her sister sarah or going on jet ski rides with her brother rafe. then sunset boat rides on the druthers with her family always ended the night.

but this year was different. ward was dead and rose took wheezie and disappeared off the face of the earth, not answering any of the many phone calls both sarah and audrey made. luckily she still had sarah and rafe, who miraculously made up and are closer than ever.

audrey has still had a hard time though, being pretty much shielded from all the drama that occurred over the past couple of years, she was blindsided by everything. for the first couple of weeks she had never felt more alone.

realizing that they had to step up for their little sister, rafe and sarah did everything they could to help her grieve the family they once had. the pogues had taken audrey under their wing as well, all of them always having a soft spot for the now 16 year old who had only been 13 when this all started.

sarah was still living with john b, but rafe had bought his own house on figure 8 after selling their family home, none of them wanted to live there anymore with the false memories of the fake family they had. audrey had moved in with him and rafe did his best to make sure it was perfect for her.

the biggest surprise to audrey was that rafe was actually pretty friendly with the pogues now, to the point that they all hang out together pretty frequently. which audrey is thankful for, especially because this meant he was spending less and less time with topper and kelce who she hates.

today was one of those days, the waves were supposed to be perfect and jj had challenged audrey to a surfing competition. so rafe threw the boards into the back of his truck and the brother and sister duo were on their way.

when they arrived at the beach it wasn’t very crowded, much to audrey’s delight, there were a few teenagers further down the beach but that was about it. sarah and the pogues pulled up right beside them and everyone got out, setting up their spot for the day.

“hope you’re ready, baby. those waves are calling my name.” jj teased the younger girl as he waxed his board

“no, i hope you’re ready. don’t want you to get embarrassed about getting beat by a 16 year old again.” audrey fired back making kie laugh and pat her shoulder

“you got it, baby.” kie ruffled her hair, ignoring the look of betrayal on her boyfriends face

“hey! you’re supposed to root for me!” jj pouted and kie just shrugged

“baby’s obviously the favorite.” john b said as he walked up behind audrey and wrapped his arm around her shoulder

“right, just how many years of friendship? right down the drain.” jj mumbled to himself

audrey smiled at his dramatics and walked over to sarah who was sitting in a lounge chair underneath the umbrella. the 16 year old carefully sat down on her lap and sarah chuckled shaking her head fondly and adjusting into a more comfortable position. sarah looped her arms around audrey’s waist and pulled her back against her chest.

“can i help you?” sarah twirled a strand of her sisters hair

“nope, you’re just comfy and i’m waiting for your husband to finish waxing my board.” audrey closed her eyes at the feeling of sarah playing with her hair like she used to do when they were kids

“almost done, jeez!” john b called and the girls giggled

“how are you feeling?” audrey asked and sarah smiled using her other hand to gently rub her slightly swollen belly

“i don’t have morning sickness anymore, so i feel great.” sarah sighed heavily luckily at 20 weeks the worst of her morning sickness had passed

“i still think the baby should be named after me, audrey jr is perfect. we can call her aj for short.” audrey wiggled her brows

“hey, we still don’t know if it’s a boy or girl.” sarah reminded her and audrey just shook her head

“it’s a girl, i just know it.” audrey smiled

sarah just smiled fondly at her sister and began to quickly braid her long hair so it wouldn’t be in her face while she was surfing. at some point kie and pope had flopped down beside them under the umbrella, pulling out the snacks and drinks they had packed for the day.

cleo was standing with jj and john b, criticizing the way they handled the boards. and rafe had gone back to his truck to grab his own chair and the bag that had their towels and some sunscreen in it.

the weather was perfect today, a soft breeze cut through the humidity and the cloudless sky was a bright blue color. audrey found herself wishing that she could spend every day like this, sitting on a beach with her favorite people in good weather.

“boards ready for ya, baby!” john b walked over to them holding audrey’s board on his hip

“thanks, jb! last one in’s a rotten egg.” audrey jumped up taking her board before running towards the water

she laughed hearing jj curse and chase after her, the cool water made audrey tense for a moment before her body became used to the temperature and she paddled out.

kie, pope, and john b joined shortly after audrey and jj while cleo and sarah built a sandcastle and rafe sunbathed. the waves were perfect, just as they had predicted.

the group caught wave after wave, and eventually kie deemed audrey as the winner of her and jj’s little competition.

“no way!” jj complained flopping back onto his board

“sorry j but baby had ya beat.” kie patted his chest

“don’t be a sore loser bro.” pope chided him and jj scoffed

“i am no such thing!” jj held his chest in offense

“bullshit.” pope coughed making the others laugh

jj just narrowed his eyes before lurching forward and knocking pope off his board into the water. audrey laughed wiping the water that splashed onto her face from her eyes, while kie just shook her head at their childish behavior.

jj and pope popped their heads up out of the water and quickly knocked the remaining three off their boards making them join them in the water.

“not cool.” john b splashed jj, who was responsible for knocking him into the water

feeling her stomach grumble in hunger, audrey pulled herself back up onto her board. intending to swim back to shore and eat one of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cleo brought.

“i’m heading in, i’m starved.” audrey announced and the group gave her a thumbs up

“i’ll come with ya, need to check on sarah.” john b said ignoring the whipping sounds pope and jj made

the duo paddled towards the shore, john b waving at a couple other surfers who recognized him. audrey huffed out of breath as she made it to the beach, struggling to prop her board on her hip.

“need some help?” an unrecognizable voice asked from her left

audrey lowered her board and saw 3 boys she didn’t recognize standing there, but from the looks of their ray-bans and vineyard vines swim trunks she knew they had to be kooks.

“uh, no thanks. i can manage.” audrey gave them a polite smile

“come on, that boards like twice your size. we don’t bite.” the same one said

“unless you want us to.” another one smirked

“really. i’m good.” audrey clenched her jaw becoming uncomfortable

as she went to walk away one of the guys grabbed her board, stopping her.

“hey, we’re trying to be nice here and help you out. the least you could do is not be a bitch about it and let us.” the first guy spoke again

“excuse me?” audrey gaped at him, shocked that anyone would talk to another person like that

“you heard him, so be a good girl and let us help ya out. maybe you can repay us tonight, we love to share.” the third guy said

feeling alarm bells ring in her head, audrey knew she needed to leave. she dropped her board and turned to walk away, but was stopped when a strong hand latched onto her arm and pulled her back into a chest roughly.

“where you going, huh?” the second guy asked

“let go of me!” audrey exclaimed, jamming her knee into his crotch making him curse and drop his hold on her

“fucking bitch!” the first guy scoffed, pulling her hair making audrey yelp

before anything else could happen, yelling was heard and suddenly audrey was ripped away and rafe tackled both remaining guys to the ground.

audrey fell to the sand and looked up to see rafe and john b ontop of two of them punching them in the face. the third guy tried to get up but was punched in the face by cleo sending him back to the ground.

“audrey!” sarah exclaimed dropping to the ground beside her sister and pulling her into her arms

the others made hurried onto the beach when they heard the commotion and pope and jj hurried to help john b and rafe while kie immediately ran to sarah and audrey who were now joined by cleo.

“hey, are you ok?” kie asked touching audrey’s knee

“yeah. i’m fine.” audrey winced and touched her head that was tender from where her hair was pulled

“jackasses.” sarah seethed rubbing her hand up and down audrey’s arm

it took both john b and jj to pull rafe off his guy, who’s nose was all bloody and most likely broken. the other two guys in similar shape.

“you so much as glance in my sisters direction again and i’ll fucking kill you.” rafe threatened and the three guys immediately ran away

the boys turned back to the girls and rafe knelt down in front of audrey, grabbing her hand and giving it a soft squeeze. his jaw clenched when he noticed the hand shaped bruise on her arm.

“are you ok?” rafe asked pinching her chin to get her attention

“yeah. just a little freaked out, but i’m ok.” audrey nodded

“well those sons of bitches won’t bother you anymore, baby. scared them so bad i’d be surprised if they ever show their faces again.” jj chuckled

“better not, or i’ll cut em.” cleo flipped open her knife making audrey smile

“no one messes with baby.” pope pushed cleo’s hand down

“damn straight.” john b nodded squeezing her shoulder

“thanks guys.” audrey smiled, feeling so incredibly lucky to have friends who care as much as hers do

“let’s not let them ruin our beach day, we have hours of daylight left.” kie said moving to stand

“yeah then tonight we can have a bonfire and roast marshmallows.” sarah smiled before looking at her little sister. “how’s that sound, baby?”

“sounds good to me.” audrey grinned

“good, now it’s time for lunch and you need to eat. i’ll get you some tylenol too for your head.” rafe grabbed audrey’s hands and pulled her to her feet before wrapping his arm around her

audrey chuckled at his care, which was a stark contrast to the way he was a couple of years ago. the group headed back over to their spot and continued with their beach day.

they ended the night back at rafe and audrey’s house, utilizing the large patio with a fire pit and comfortable chairs placed all around it. as audrey held her marshmallow over the fire, she looked around and realized just how lucky she is to have these people in her life.

to have people who care and will always be there for you.

#outer banks #rafe cameron x sister!reader #sarah cameron x sister!reader #the pogues #the pogues x reader #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #john b routledge #jj maybank #kiara carrera #pope heyward #cleo

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