#i swear to god knife is enjoying himself

[hydemercats]

the thing mephone says about knife winning being a compelling character arc reminded me of her so. im the god of this drawing and scenario and i'd say they'd be friends. or at least flower would scoop him up

[sanjisleggy]

three hundred sonnets (sanji x reader)

a/n: my first OP x reader fic ever written! :D i’m currently only at the start of the Water 7 arc so this will take place somewhere prior to that :) i hope you enjoy!

big thank you to @chibinasuu for your encouragement in my initial post abt this fic idea! <3 i'm so excited to write more stuff in the future :D

also! i’d really appreciate any requests sent my way :D right now i’ll only write SFW fics/headcanons for Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Shanks, Mihawk, Crocodile & Smoker! but they will all be set early in the series/not during any specific arc since i’m still only at ep 200ish :’D

contents: gn reader, zoro is unintentionally an asshole, major insecurity, injury, miscommunication, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort 

wc: 3k

—

“if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. If he writes her 300 sonnets, he loves sonnets”

i.

it’s no secret that Zoro isn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer— or at least that’s what Sanji thinks, especially now as he stands by the sink scrubbing away at the leftover grime on the used dishes; feeling a tightness in his shoulders he just can’t seem to will away.

”hey, cook,” the inebriated swordsman slurred from across the dining table, a shit-eating grin on his reddened face—a familiar sight to everyone on the straw hat crew, especially when times have been smooth sailing. “i heard somethin’ interesting from the last town’s blacksmith the other day and it reminded me of you.” Zoro continued without waiting to be acknowledged.

”if this is something about my eyebrows again, i swear to god i’ll-”

”he said somethin’ like ‘if he writes her a few sonnets, he loves her. if he writes her three hundred sonnets, he loves sonnets’ and i just thought-” he paused to let out a quick burp, “-you ever consider you might just love cooking more than you love (Y/N)?”

the muffled, happy chatter of his satisfied crewmates from outside the closed kitchen door does nothing to distract Sanji from what even he himself knows is a turbulent mental spiral. he grits his teeth as his fingers grip the sponge even harder, working away at a particularly stubborn stain that strikes him as the final straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Sanji lets out a choked laugh when it dawns on him how ridiculous all this must seem to an outsider: a grown man on the verge of tears as he washes the dishes, overthinking about an off-handed comment said by an extremely drunk friend that was never supposed to mean anything and yet it seems to have shattered everything he thought he knew about himself and his love for the most important person in his life.

ii. 

you decide to excuse yourself from the post-dinner drink-and-chat session with the rest of the crew after you realise someone in particular has been missing for a strangely long time.

you ignore Zoro’s slurred request for you to bring back more booze, knowing he’ll be passing out any minute now from how much he’s drunk tonight, and head to the kitchen. ready to drag your beloved to bed for a nice cuddling session, you can’t help the smile that graces your face as you swing open the door to Sanji’s domain.

”hey love, are you done cleaning up?” you chirp as you approach his broad back, hands ready to plop down on his shoulders for a light squeeze—just the way you know he likes it. the sink comes into clearer view as you get closer and the sight of a few dozen sudsy but unwashed plates and bowls answers the question for you.

”oh, i, um-” the way the blond man jolts slightly in response to your touch isn’t lost on you but what took you more by surprise is how Sanji rubs his face against his sleeve before finally turning to look at you from over his shoulder. he smiles before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead out of habit. “i got a bit distracted but i’ll be done soon, my love.”

”i can help you-”

”no!” you’re sure the way your eyes widen in surprise at his response is mirrored on his face as you both stare blankly at one another for a second. “no, no. i can handle it,” Sanji continues, quick to press a few apologetic kisses on your face, the rapid pounding of his heart calming slightly when he sees how you lean into his affection, seemingly forgetting his odd outburst from just a second ago. 

“why don’t you just wash up and wait for me in bed, hmm? i’ll be with you before you know it.”

”are you sure? it’ll be quicker if we do it together.” 

oh how his chest aches from how sweetly you look at him, offering him a final chance to take you up on the offer. his reddened and sore fingertips scream for him to say yes, beg him to accept your company not only for their sake but also for his heart’s—

i must prove to you how much i love you.

”it’s quite alright, sweet thing, it’s only the dishes.”

iii.

“it’s just a few thousand berry.”

“it’s only a massage.”

“it’s just mopping the floor.”

“it’s only folding the clothes.”

”it’s a small scratch, nothing to worry your little head about.”

”i can take up your night watch today… nonsense, i insist…”

”…nothing but a sprained ankle, i’ll be fine. all that matters is that you’re okay.”

iv.

”Sanji, love, is something wrong?” your voice shatters the silence that had long since engulfed the two of you sitting alone in the kitchen. the others left to explore the newest island you’ve chanced upon and your beloved’s insistence on watching over Merry all but confirm your suspicion that something, indeed, is not right.

”whatever do you mean?” the chef responds with a slight tilt of his head, his tongue darting out to soothe his dry lips when he catches how worried you look.

please don’t

”well, it’s just that… you know this island’s pretty famous for its produce, right?” you ask before you slowly reach out to grab his hand resting on the table. “are you sure you don’t wanna look around? take a break?”

”a break from what?” he chuckles nervously, shooting you a small smile when he feels your thumb rub against his knuckles.

”it’s just that… you’ve been working really hard this past week, y’know?” you reach out to cup his face with your other hand, a gesture Sanji instinctively welcomes with no hesitation as he nuzzles into the warmth of your palm, his tired eyes fluttering closed for a second.

it’s nothing. nothing at all. as long as it means i can feel this warmth for one day more.

”you should go have some fun with the others, it’s my turn to watch Merry. i’ll be fine for a few hours on my own.” Sanji opens his eyes and is greeted by the familiar sight of your warm smile as you rub the pad of your thumb under his eye, across the dark patch of skin—a result of his insistence on doing your night watches with you alongside his full-time duties as the sole chef of the ship.

turning his head slightly to press his lips against your palm, he shoots you another smile. “i’m not really in the mood to explore, i’d much rather stay here with you.”

because what if you realise how much you don’t need me when i’m gone?

Sanji feels the tightness in his chest loosen up a bit when his honeyed response, spoken in his best imitation of a sane boyfriend with only normal thoughts in his head, seems to work in quelling your concern at least for now.

v. 

oh how you wish you’d pressed further back then, dug deeper even if it made him uncomfortable. if you could miraculously go back in time just once in your life, you’d choose to return to that afternoon in the kitchen when you were alone with him. you would’ve seized the opportunity to pry, to force the hard truth out of your beloved chef even if it meant tears shed and bonds broken; because even a scenario like that would be so much more preferable to the one you’re currently in right now.

the entire crew steers clear of the infirmary for the day. even Chopper only shows up to redress Sanji’s wounds every now and then, leaving once he’s done, unable to stay any longer due to how heavy the air feels inside that one tiny room. the other straw hats rely on him for details on how things seem to be going between the crew’s chef and chronicler. otherwise, they elect to give you two some privacy and space, collectively hoping things can return to normal soon.

neither of you say a word for nearly half an hour after Chopper leaves. the stiffness in your neck is starting to bother you but you remain frozen in position, seated by Sanji’s side as he lays resting in bed, his left hand heavily bandaged.

it happened quicker than anyone could have possibly expected. 

the enemy pirate’s sword slashing in your direction as you prepare to parry the way Zoro taught you long ago. you were confident in your ability to win the fight, having been in much tougher situations in the past and still emerging victorious. you might not be the best fighter but everyone knew you could stand your ground fairly well.

Sanji knew that, too. there was no one he believed in more than you, his partner, the love of his life. he knew you would be fine, unscathed, even; and yet his body moved on its own accord anyway. his hands reached forward, contrary to a lifetime of instincts.

i must prove myself to you. 

he knows now, looking at the endless stream of tears silently running down your face and the way your jaw is tensed up—your teeth most certainly chewing on your tongue—that he’d fucked up.

”i’m sorry—” your head turns sharply for your eyes to meet his for the first time in a while when he speaks, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sanji’s bottom lip begins to tremble as he looks away in shame, his own teary eyes glued to his bandaged hand. “i-i won’t be able to cook for you for a while.”

for a minute, you forget how to breathe.

and then, inexplicably, a wave of rage washes over you; a culmination of the past two weeks of concern, confusion and worry over Sanji’s drastic sudden need to do anything and everything for you. his intense desire to display his selflessness all building up to the moment he used his hands to protect you; and even then his only concern is being unable to cook for you?

your own curl into fists on your lap, your nails digging into the meat of your palm, there’s a sudden coppery taste in your mouth as your molars bite down harder onto your tongue. the sheer idea of him willingly giving up his hands of all things to defend you from an opponent you could beat with your eyes closed made you so unbelievably angry at something you couldn’t even quite put your finger on.

sensing a shift in your emotions, Sanji finally tilts his head up to look back at you. his throat threatens to constrict itself and his heart drops when he sees the furious look on your face.

”am i really such a helpless creature to you?”

you regret the words as soon as you say them. the initial fury coursing through your veins dissipating in the blink of an eye when you see how your single sentence instantly breaks something in him.

his mouth opens and closes but no words escape his lips, meanwhile tears flow freely down his faces, one drop after another falling onto the blanket draped over his lap as his uninjured hand grips the fabric for dear life.

no, you could never be helpless you’re perfect you’re the most perfect person in the whole world i don’t deserve to have you and yet you chose me but now i’ve ruined it all—

the endless thoughts racing in his head go abruptly silent when he feels the softness and warmth of your body engulf his. your hand reaches up to hold the back of his head, pulling his face into the crook of your neck as your free arm wraps around his upper back. your knees are planted on the mattress, trapping him in a straddle as you hug him tightly, careful not to agitate his wounds.

for a few seconds, all Sanji does is breathe. in and out. every inhale filled with the scent of your shampoo mixed with the saltiness of your sweat and tears. he feels the hand holding his head run its fingers through his blond hair in a familiar way, it sends pleasant tingles down his spine and for the first time in a while, he’s able to release the tension in his shoulders.

Sanji’s eyes flutter closed as he nuzzles deeper into your neck, pressing a small kiss against your skin before wrapping his own arms around you, returning the much-needed embrace.

”i love you so much, my sweet boy,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean what i said. i know you of all people believe the most in me. i was wrong to accuse you of thinking about me in such a way.” you turn your head to kiss his temple, then his forehead, then the space between his eyes, then the tip of his nose. now face-to-face, your beloved opens his tear-stained eyes to look back into your own.

”are you okay? did something happen?” you ask softly, continuing to caress the back of his head, tangling his golden locks with your fingers. “i’ve been worried about you, the others are too.” he lets out a sniffle but stays silent, so you continue, “i know you’re a selfless person and you love doing things for other people, especially me.” you smile and he returns a small smile back. it, however, falters into an embarrassed grimace when he recalls the conversation that started it all.

how silly it all feels in hindsight, Sanji wonders to himself, as you patiently await his reply, still hugging him closely as your soft breath fans his face. how easily this could all have been resolved if he’d simply talked to you about it once it all started to feel too much. 

the hand behind his head travels toward his cheek to cradle his face in the palm of your hand. you run your thumb gently over his cheekbone as he practically purrs and leans even closer into your loving touch. 

then, he speaks.

vi.

the cooling sea air circulates the space of your shared room as the Going Merry drifts slowly across the calm waters of the night.

Chopper had given Sanji the OK to rest in his usual bed after redressing his wounds in the evening. After leaving the infirmary, the chef made his way to the kitchen to check up on your progress with dinner. Since he was banned from cooking until his hand was fully recovered, you’d volunteered to take up all kitchen duties temporarily. Seeing how excited you were to now be the one providing for him and the others quelled any worries he had instantly.

”Now I get to make all your favourite food and drinks for you instead,” you’d said, crossing your arms and putting on a faux expression of haughtiness, as though you’d finally won some long-drawn out battle.

”I look forward to it, sweet thing.” was all it took to wipe the look off your face as you felt your entire body warm up at his tender voice.

Smiling at the memory from just a few hours ago, Sanji stood outside the kitchen, ready to enter when he heard two voices come from inside. Curious, he stayed put and listened.

”You need to think before you speak!” you yelled, your raised voice accompanied by the sound of a knife hitting the wooden cutting board in a sharp, rhythmic manner. “I know you were drunk but what even was the point of saying all that to him?”

”Listen, I already apologised, you don’t have to keep—”

”I’m just warning you: pull that shit again and I’ll throw all your booze into the ocean.”

”Alright! Damn! I won’t do it again, I swear—”

Sanji’s snapped out of his reverie when he feels you stir awake beside him. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before blearily looking up at his face, your hand pressing against his bare chest to prop yourself up slightly from the mattress.

”Can’t sleep?” you ask, running your palm up and down his skin in a gentle manner.

”Mmm, just thinking about how you managed to get mosshead to say sorry to me at dinner,” he replied, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer. “Still feels like a weird fever dream.”

“I’m just so good with words, y’know?” you chuckle as you pull your hand away from his chest to replace it with the side of your head. You don’t fail to notice how his heartbeat quickens. “Why else would the infamous Straw Hat Pirates take me on as their chronicler?”

”Of course,” Sanji hums before burying his face in your hair, “we accept nothing but the best after all.”

You laugh softly in response, ready to let the conversation meet its natural end in order for the two of you to drift off to sleep. Right before you shut your eyes, though, your lover speaks up once more.

”I’m so lucky to be loved by you.” his sudden confession knocks the wind from your lungs as your heart leaps within the tight confines of your chest.

”luck has nothing to do with it, sweet boy,” you reply, turning to your head slightly to press your lips to his chest. “i love you because you’re you—the kindest, strongest, most talented man i’ve ever met. you’ve ruined other people for me, not to mention the food they make. nothing compares to you.” 

Sanji silently thanks the night sky for the darkness enveloping your room as he feels his face practically catch fire. Though, he’s certain you can probably tell how flustered he is from the rapid beating of his heart anyway.

”You’ll still love me even if I can’t cook for you anymore?” he mutters, half-joking.

”i’ll still love you even if you refuse to cook for me for the rest if our lives,” you reply, kind of half-joking. “I’d probably be really sad, though, but i’ll still love you.” In response, you feel a chuckle rumble from his chest as his uninjured arm pulls you closer until you’ve basically melded into one.

”you know fully well the day i refuse to cook for you is the day i die.”

you hum in response, already drifting off to sleep with a contented smile on your face. Sanji presses one last kiss of the night to your forehead before dozing off himself. 

[blackenedsnow]

Can you do a one shot of Art The Clown x actress reader?! Like when he sees her he gets all excited like with santa but he doesn't want to hurt her but she's still like 😨😨😨😨😨

silent curtain call

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Actress! Reader

NOTE: Hi anon! I absolutely loved this idea—it’s so fun. I hope you enjoy and sending all the best vibes your way!

SUMMARY: A late-night encounter at a nearly empty movie set leaves you face-to-face with the infamous Miles County Clown.

The set was dead quiet.

The crew had packed up hours ago, leaving only you and a handful of stragglers tying up loose ends. The horror flick you were starring in had been plagued with delays, and now you were running overtime under dim work lights, trying to wrap the final scene.

As you made your way back to your trailer, exhaustion draped over you like a heavy cloak. The parking lot was nearly deserted, lit by a handful of flickering streetlights. You sighed, unlocking your door and dropping your bag inside when a sound made you pause.

A faint crack.

You froze. It was soft, but it carried through the air, cutting through the silence like a knife.

“Probably some intern messing around,” you muttered under your breath. Still, your heart started to pound.

Turning, you scanned the lot and caught a glimpse of something—or someone—standing just beyond the reach of the nearest streetlight. A figure, tall and unmistakable in black-and-white stripes, tilted its head at you.

The Miles County Clown.

Your stomach dropped, and a shaky laugh escaped your lips.

“Okay, very funny. You almost got me,” you called out, though your voice wavered. “Who put you up to this? Alan? Because I swear—”

The figure stepped forward, revealing more of himself under the dim light. The clown’s pale, corpse-like face and blackened eyes met yours, and he grinned, his sharpened teeth glinting in the light.

This wasn’t a costume.

Your blood turned to ice as the realization slammed into you like a freight train.

That wasn’t someone dressed as Art the Clown.

That was Art the Clown.

Your knees locked, your breath caught in your throat. You’d read the stories, seen the reports. You knew what this thing did to people, and the fact that he was standing there, grinning at you like you were the funniest joke he’d ever heard, made you want to scream.

Art didn’t move for a moment. He just stared, his head bobbing slightly from side to side as if deciding what to do with you. Then, to your horror, he raised a hand and waved.

Like you were old friends.

You forced yourself to take a step back, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“H-hello,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I-I don’t want any trouble, okay?”

Art’s grin widened, and he pulled out his tiny black hat, placing it on his head with exaggerated flair. Then he gave you an overdramatic bow, one hand sweeping out to the side like he was performing on stage.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Look,” you said, your voice trembling, “I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I’m not—I’m not gonna bother you, okay? Just… just leave me alone.”

Art straightened up and clapped his hands silently, his shoulders shaking with laughter you couldn’t hear. Then he pointed at you, then at himself, and made a heart shape with his hands.

Oh, God. He wasn’t leaving.

He took a step closer, and you instinctively backed up until your back hit the door of your trailer. Your mind raced, desperately trying to remember everything you’d read about him.

He loved theatrics.

He didn’t speak.

He enjoyed playing with his victims before…

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening.

But… he wasn’t attacking you.

Not yet, at least.

Art’s expression suddenly brightened, like he’d just remembered something. Reaching into his bag, he rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a crumpled flyer—your movie poster. He held it up triumphantly, pointing at your face on the poster and then at you, nodding excitedly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath. He recognized you.

He tapped the poster again, then gave you a thumbs-up, his grin widening to impossibly creepy proportions. He was… a fan?

The absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh, but fear kept you frozen.

“Uh, thanks,” you managed to croak. “That’s… nice of you.”

Art clapped his hands again, silently applauding. Then, without warning, he pointed at your ankle, mimed tripping, and fell flat on his back with an exaggerated thud, his legs kicking in the air.

You blinked. He was… reenacting one of your scenes.

It was so surreal, so bizarre, that for a moment, your fear gave way to utter confusion. “What… what are you doing?”

Art sprang back up like a jack-in-the-box and gave you a smug little shrug, as if to say, What can I say? I’m hilarious.

Despite every instinct screaming at you to run, you found yourself rooted in place, too terrified to move but too intrigued to look away. Art was watching you closely now, his head tilted, his expression almost… expectant.

“Uh, great performance,” you said weakly, hoping to appease him. “Really… uh… really nailed it.”

His grin stretched even wider, and he mimed taking a bow again.

Then he reached into his bag.

You tensed, your breath catching as you braced yourself for whatever horrifying weapon he was about to pull out. But instead, he produced a handful of fake flowers, the kind that squirted water, and held them out to you.

You stared at them, then at him. Your hands shook as you slowly took the flowers, half expecting them to explode or spray acid or something equally horrific. But they didn’t.

“…Thanks?” you said hesitantly.

Art gave you a cheerful nod, then pointed at the poster again, tapping your face and giving you another thumbs-up.

It hit you then—he wasn’t here to hurt you. Not tonight, anyway. He was excited to see you, like a fan meeting their favorite celebrity.

That realization didn’t make him any less terrifying, but it gave you a tiny sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, if you kept playing along, you could get out of this alive.

“Well, it’s been… uh, great meeting you,” you said cautiously, clutching the fake flowers like a lifeline. “But I should probably… you know, get going.”

Art’s grin faltered slightly, and he tilted his head, looking almost disappointed.

“Um… maybe I’ll see you around?” you added quickly, your stomach twisting as the words left your mouth.

He brightened at that, nodding enthusiastically. Then, with one final bow, he turned and skipped off into the darkness, his bag swinging at his side.

You didn’t move until you were sure he was gone. Then you bolted into your trailer, locking the door and sinking to the floor with the flowers still clutched in your hands.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process what had just happened.

You’d just met the Miles County Clown.

And somehow, you were still alive.

[enviedear]

helping billy after he gets injured is so sweet to me idk

helping billy when he's injured...

don't worry nonnie, it's so sweet to me too. poor boy needs someone to stitch him back up. somehow this ended up being 1.2k words ?? this was supposed to be a drabble... idk but enjoy hurt/comfort + crush confession billy

tw— mentions of blood, a stab wound, cleaning a wound, dressing a wound, cursing (it's in every fic tbfh), confession of love, some kissin'

request

"m'sorry, honey." billy's frail voice shocks you out of your stupor. he looked like hell— pale, shakey, and bloodied.

your chair scraps against the wood floors as you bolt upward, rushing over to your friend. your hands pull his face nearer yours, studying it with frenzied worry.

"what happened billy? i thought i said no fightin' tonight." your own voice sounds strangely wild in nature— angered yet nurturing.

the tall young man falls into you, hands on your shoulders, weakly stopping himself from putting all his weight on you, "i wasn't... swear," he grimaces, right hand pulling away from you and to his left shoulder, "one o'em stabbed me. didn't know m'fucker had a knife."

"god, is it deep?" you ask, eyebrows raised with concern.

billy shifts away from you, trying to ignore the searing pain surging through his shoulder, "not deep, just hurts like hell," he says through gritted teeth. "i can handle it—had worse."

you shake your head, knowing better than to trust his nonchalant attitude when it comes to injuries, "you need to let me take a look. if it's bad, i'll have to get you to the doctor."

billy hesitates for a moment, but ultimately nods in agreement. you guide him over to a nearby table and carefully lift his shirt to inspect the wound. it's a clean stab, not too deep, but you can tell it's still going to require some attention.

"i'll need some hot water and clean rags," you say, already moving to the kitchen area. you grab a pot and fill it with water from a nearby bucket, placing it over the stove to heat up. you start to tear up a clean sheet into strips, preparing them to use as bandages.

billy watches you work, grateful for your tender touch. "you're too good to me," he whispers.

you don't respond, just focus on the task at hand. you soak one of the rags in the hot water and wring it out before placing it gently over the wound. billy hisses in pain, but you know it's necessary to prevent infection.

for the next few moments, you work diligently to clean the wound and wrap it up tightly with the makeshift bandages. billy winces and squirms occasionally, but ultimately endures the pain without a complaint.

as you finish the last of the bandaging, you glance up at billy with a small smile, "there, all done. you should be good as new in no time."

billy chuckles weakly, still gritting his teeth from the pain, "thanks, i owe you one," he says, his voice shaking slightly.

you roll your eyes, knowing billy would do the same for you if you were ever in his position, "don't mention it," you reply, "just promise me you'll take it easy for a while. no more getting into fights, okay?"

billy hums, nodding his head in agreement, "think i learned m'lesson' this time."

you both fall silent for a moment, the only sound in the small room being the crackling of the fire in the stove. you glance up at him, taking in his rugged features and the way his dark hair falls across his forehead, stark contrast to his bright blue eyes. despite the danger and uncertainty that is billy, a warm feeling spreads through your chest whenever you're near him.

without warning, billy reaches out and takes your hand in his, his eyes searching your own, "i don't say it enough, but… i appreciate everything you do f'me," he murmurs, "you're the only thing that keeps me sane in this goddamn place."

your heart skips a beat at his words, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat. you know that you shouldn't let yourself get too attached to someone like billy, as hard to pin down as the wind, but you feel yourself tethering.

you give him a small smile, trying to hide how much his words affect you, "it's nothing, really. just doing what any decent person would do." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

billy squeezes your hand gently before slowly letting go. he leans back against the wall, his eyes never leaving your face, "you're more than just a decent person, you're an angel t'me?" he says, his voice low and gravelly.

you feel your cheeks heat up at his compliment, and you look away, suddenly shy, "stop it, billy. you're talking out of your ass." you mutter, trying to lighten the mood.

he chuckles softly, the sound making your heart flutter, "m'not, i'm sweet on you." he confesses, his eyes full of something you can't quite decipher.

you can feel yourself getting lost in his gaze once again, the world around you fading away until there's only the two of you. you know that this is dangerous, that you shouldn't endear yourself to someone like billy— but you can't help but crave his touch and his attention.

without thinking, you lean forward and press your lips to his, your heart racing in your chest. for a moment, he freezes, his eyes widening in surprise, but then he responds eagerly, his hands finding their way to your waist.

the kiss is like fire, all-consuming and intense, and you can't help but lose yourself in it. you know that this is wrong, kissing an outlaw as an unmarried lady would surely land you well into public scrutiny— despite their own sins.

you can't seem to care the longer billy kisses you, slow and deep, like honey off the comb. you feel utterly entranced by him, with his tender hands, towering body, and scent of iron and whiskey.

just when you feel like you could stay like this forever, time seems to speed up again and the kiss breaks.

billy stares at you with wide eyes, pressing his forehead to yours. "i'll try to be more careful, i swear," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, "and if i ain't, you have my permission to scold me until i'm beggin' for mercy."

you laugh softly at his joke before gently pushing him away from you. you shake your head fondly and meet his gaze, sighing softly as you take in the moment.

"well then don't," you reply firmly but sweetly, a small smile on your face, "because if something happened to you and i have to patch you up again with my scant knowledge…i'll be very upset."

billy's gaze softens as he looks back at you and he reaches out to brush aside a strand of hair that escaped from its pins, "don't worry, honey," he says softly, assuring you with a gentle smile, "i'll be more wary from now on."

you grin at that and pat his hand fondly, you take one last look into each others' eyes before finally breaking the spell between the two of you.

"alright then," you say, your tone determined, "i suppose you'd better go back and ride off into the sunset before i get too upset."

billy nods, meeting your gaze once more, grin tugging at his lips before brushing off his trousers. he doffs his stetson, takes your hands in his own, and takes a step forward, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"i'll ride back over tomorrow afternoon," he promises earnestly, "and i'll bring you somethin' to show my appreciation. a gift for the angel who saved m'life."

you can't help but smile at him, brain foggy at his sweet words. you know that this could hurt both of you if anyone found out— but as long as no one does, you can savor the moments like this one.

"that sounds mighty fine." you whisper softly before giving him one last wave goodbye.

billy tips his hat to you and gives an easy grin before sauntering out of your view.

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[slasher-fxcker]

I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort fics, can I get Bo and Thomas being held hostage by a victim please? God I love the way you write Bo ^.^

A/N: Yesssss, I too love this! Hope you enjoy!!

Bo & Thomas having their S/O taken hostage by a victim.

Warnings: Guns, Violence, Swearing. 18+ blog MDNI.

Bo Sinclair

If you asked, Bo would say he isn’t afraid of anything. He always saw himself as fearless, he had seen so much in his life that he didn’t think anything could shake him.

That was until he heard your scream, one of the victims had gotten away from them and they had been searching, shotgun in hand, for at least an hour. When he heard your scream it killed him, you were his life now. Maybe he hadn’t quite realised it but in that moment the thought of you being hurt by the victim, or worse, pained him in a way he’d never felt before.

He raced to the house as fast as he could, he had to grab the wall as he skidded through the door and up the stairs to your room.

His whole body shook in fear as he noticed the handle on your door had been broken and that you were nowhere to be seen. “Fuck!” he yelled running back down the stairs to Vincent, “He took her, that bastards gonna get what’s coming to him,” he sent Vincent back out to look for you while he went to the kitchen to get his keys but what he saw made him still instantly.

Bo called your name quietly as the man pressed the knife closer to your throat making you flinch. “Put the gun down or I’ll do it, I’ll slit her throat.” Bo felt the familiar rage boiling up inside him at this point, how dare he talk about you like that, how dare he threaten to hurt you.

Bo surprisingly kept his cool, raising both hands and placing the shot gun on the table between you before taking a step back. “There, now let her go. Take my truck just let her go.” You had never seen Bo like this before, the pleading in his eyes as they flickered between you and the man. The man started moving forward towards the door still holding you close to him, Bo didn’t take his eyes off of him as he moved towards the exit. Bo was going to kill him, you knew that, he was going to rip him apart for even threatening you. As the man got to the door he looked at the door and then you, “Hey! I said let her go.” Bo seemed to spook the man who pushed you towards him and made a run for it. Vincent must have heard the ruckus and caught the man just as he reached the front door.

Bo wrapped his arms around you holding you close to him, his hand was brushing your hair out of your face as he whispered to you, “You're okay, you're safe now.” He repeated over and over as he just held you, you weren’t sure if he was convincing you or himself.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas wiped the remaining blood on a rag before wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you against him and nuzzling into your neck. Giggling you gave him a playful shove, “Lunch will never be ready if you keep it up.” He just huffs, placing a kiss to your neck before getting himself a drink. The poor man didn’t even get a chance to sit down before Hoyt was yelling demands at him again. “I’m going to check out the roads again. Get outside and finish setting the traps up out the back.” Thomas placed his cup down with a sigh, gently caressing the side of your face before making his way outside.

It wasn’t long before you heard some noises coming from behind the basement door, you were used to it at this point and as much as it bothered you, you knew you had to ignore it. You didn’t get to think twice about it before a man came bursting from behind the door. You froze, looking towards the knife on the table you leapt towards it, unfortunately the man seemed to have noticed your gaze and reached the knife before you did. “Scream and you die.”

He steps towards you and you pull away as he tries to grab you. The scuffle gained the attention of Monty who soon rolled into the kitchen, seeing you being manhandled he began yelling for Thomas. The man grabbed you by the hair and dragged you out the front towards the cars. You didn’t know how far Thomas had wandered away from the house, would he have heard Monty? Would he reach you in time?

It wasn’t long before you heard the roar of the chainsaw you tried to turn to look for Thomas but the man’s hold on you is too tight. You hear the chainsaw getting louder but you're getting too close to the cars now. You have no weapon and the grip the man has on you is unbreakable. Panic starts to set in, you're frantically searching for anything to get you away from him. You notice the man has a slight limp, readying yourself you use all your strength and kick him in the side of the knee as hard as you can, he buckles and let’s go of you in the process.

You turn and run towards Thomas as fast as you can, he slows down as he reaches you quickly looking you over to make sure you're safe before running after the soon to be dead man. He doesn’t hesitate before impaling him with the chainsaw. Dropping it immediately when he’s finished with the man.

When Thomas reaches you, you can see the pain in his eyes. He drops to his knees in front of you, face lowered and avoiding eye contact. You know Thomas always blames himself, for you being stranded here, for the life you’ve been forced to lead, for you being hurt. You kneel down and cup his cheek coaxing him to look at you. “I’m okay Tommy, were okay.” You continue reassuring him, as the words seem to sink in he gently pulls you into his lap his arms wrapping around you. You don’t know how long you stay there before Thomas sends you inside while he cleans up the mess. Expect that Thomas will be very needy and protective over the next few weeks, he needs to know you're there and you're okay. Thomas doesn’t know what he would do without you in his life and he never wants to find out.

[argisthebulwark]

We Feel The Same But We Don't Speak

summary: pre-relationship, they overhear you talking about them. gn reader, no gender specific pronouns or y/n used. feat: Vilkas, Brynjolf, Farkas, Miraak, Arnbjorn, Teldryn warnings: some swearing masterlist

Vilkas rubs at his shoulder, muscles tense and yearning for a warm bath but he stops short. Even from halfway across the yard his ears prick at the blatant annoyance in your voice. Just like the other recruits, you're supposed to be resting. He'd instructed you all to hydrate and prepare for further practice after his errands. Vilkas is dreading the steep stairs to his usual meeting with Eorlund when he spots his brother, endlessly relieved for an excuse to put it off. "God, he's such a hardass." Farkas doesn't continue whatever greeting he'd had, both brothers whirling toward your group. You're doing absolutely nothing to keep your voice down and despite every instinct telling him to be angry, Vilkas finds the whine in your voice sends a shiver up his spine. "They talkin' about me?" Vilkas grumbles and watches Ria pat your shoulder in silent agreement. "No way in hell they're callin' me a hardass." Farkas laughs under his breath, clearly enjoying the hell you've caught Vilkas in. Wiping sweaty hair off his forehead he squints at you all, catching the angry furrow in your brow when you flop into the cool grass. "All the training will pay off out in the field, though." "I know." You whine again, the sound making his face heat up. Vilkas is stuck in place, unsure whether he's going to let this go or make you all practice through dinner. "But why in the hells does he have to be so handsome? Makes it terribly hard to be angry with him." Oh gods. Vilkas hardly feels his brother's hand smack onto his shoulder until he's shaken back to reality. He's blinking too much and his tongue feels too thick in his mouth. He's forgotten how to speak, unable to do anything but watch your eyes flutter closed. His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to sweep all that messy hair out of your face. He's reminded you every day to tie your hair back and grows more annoyed each time you forget. Gritting his teeth, Vilkas instructs himself to move past it. He ignores the ache and stomps to the Skyforge. He knows he's being short with Eorlund and can feel Farkas' eyes pinned to his back but cannot think of anything but getting back to work. He needs something normal to keep his mind from wandering back to you. It's hard to keep himself from looking at you, glad to hear you all shuffle to your feet. Vilkas stares into the faces of his recruits and is quite proud to see how easily you fall into the correct stances without being reminded. As his mouth opens to walk you through another drill, he's instantly distracted by you blinking at the stray hair in your eyes. "Told you to tie your hair up." He grumbles, gathering it away from your face. He's pleased with your defiant grin slipping away away at the brush of his fingers across your forehead. The pink in your cheeks is quite gratifying when he ties your hair away from your face. "What the hell are you doing?" You hiss and Vilkas knows he's fucked up, Farkas' snort echoing across the yard and a murmur scattering through the other recruits. "Tryin' to be less of a hardass."

Brynjolf swears he isn't trying to eavesdrop but he can't fucking sleep. Sunrise is only a few hours away but he can't get his brain to quiet. Shuffling out toward the Flagon he can only pray that Vekel hasn't locked everything up. "I can't do this." "Of course you can." "I may be sick if I try." He stops short at the sound of your voice. What the hell are you doing up at this hour? And what is Karliah coaching you for? "The worst he can say is no." "The worst he can do is laugh at me." You groan and Brynjolf's stomach sinks. He'd never made his feelings clear but the thought of you lusting after someone else is like a knife to the heart. He rubs absently at his chest, fully aware that he should head back to his bed. "I may have been away for years, but he isn't going to laugh at you, I promise." "What if I look foolish?" You sound drunk. If Brynjolf wasn't currently spiraling at the thought of who could have possibly captured your attention he'd like to tease you over the pink your cheeks always turn after too many drinks. "You won't." Karliah laughs and he takes a few steps back toward the Cistern, far too slowly. "It's worth looking a bit foolish for love, trust me." "How did you know Gallus wanted you?" Something about his old friend's name stills his heart. For decades that name had been banished, dragged through the mud and forgotten by all but him. To hear it in your voice summons some mess of emotions Brynjolf hadn't anticipated. "I didn't know for certain - but wouldn't it be worse to miss your chance with Brynjolf over some anxiety?" Oh gods. Brynjolf stumbles back, face bright red and he's hurrying toward his chambers. All hopes of a drink are forgotten as he struggles to work through what clearly wasn't meant for his ears. Though short and uneasy, he does get a few hours of sleep after settling his mind. He still isn't sure what he intends to say as he crouches beside your bed, placing a glass of water on your bedside table and gently shaking at your shoulder. "Love." Brynjolf murmurs, heart racing at your bleary eyes finding his. He can't help but chuckle when you jolt up, blanket clutched to your chest. "Fuck, Bryn." "Mornin'." He's pleased by the hand you rest on his arm. "Heard you had a fun night, figured you'd need some help gettin' breakfast." "Very funny." You grumble, flopping back on the bed. Brynjolf summons his courage to lean closer and tuck the blanket around your body. That knot of anxiety is still painfully present, loosening just a tad when he feels you lean into his touch. "Lemme take care of you, alright?" "If you insist."

Farkas isn't sure he's ever felt this level of exhaustion yet his bed is the last place he wants to be. He drags himself out of Jorrvaskr against his brother's advice, waving him off in search of the Bannered Mare. You'd extended an invitation to join the group of recruits for drinks and he doesn't intend to miss it. For too long your schedules have conflicted - his assignments taking him away from Whiterun for days or weeks at a time, only returning to find that you've just been sent out. Even if you're surrounded by other Companions he'll stomach a loud tavern for a few hours in your presence. It feels irresponsible to admit his feelings in such a situation. He doesn't want you waiting around for him, nor does he want to spend his downtime hoping you'll return to him. Selfishly, he does relish the moments when he hears that you've noticed his absence. He knows he's late. You'd asked him to join for dinner but midnight is only an hour or two away. Rushing into the tavern he's already searching for you amongst the sea of bodies. Farkas apologizes to all the folks he elbows past, heart in his throat upon spotting a group of familiar faces. He catches the sound of your laugh through the ruckus and swallows all the nerves threatening to choke him. It's going to be terribly hard to be around you and refrain from blurting out how badly he wants you. Farkas braces himself for this sweet form of self imposed torture, praying that his self control will hold. "Where is he?" He hears you pout while he orders an ale, ears turning a bit red. "I thought Farkas said he was going to show up tonight." "Gods, we get it, you want to fuck him!" "Shut up!" You hush your friends, drunken giggles greeting him. "How can you not want him?" "Sorry I'm late." Farkas knows he shouldn't enjoy the deep red of your cheeks when you whirl toward him but he can't help it - your wide eyes and parted lips, it's too cute. "Got held up on my ride back." "You're here." You smile, setting aside your drink and grasping his hand. His stomach flips as you brazenly tug him closer, that brilliant smile on your face. "Did I miss anything?" Teasing you is too fun. He watches your fellow recruits snicker into their drinks at how obviously caught you are. "Hardly." He lets you drag him into the group, all exhaustion forgotten as long as your hand remains in his. He listens to you discuss the day's trainings or upcoming missions, tuning back in whenever he's asked for his input. Farkas doesn't bother to hide the way he gazes at you, soaking up every moment in your presence. Someday life will be easier. Once your batch of recruits is fully trained there will be more bodies to take assignments and he'll get more down time before he's sent off again. Someday he'll tell you how deeply he's fallen in love with you. For now he is content feeling your clammy hands grasp his while he dozes off on your shoulder.

Miraak drops everything the moment he hears his name on your tongue. Whatever passage he'd been studying is forgotten when his eyes fall closed, mind focusing entirely on you. His mantra has infected nearly every other soul on Solstheim but you remain elusive - it's thrilling to know you think of him. Your voice is terribly harsh while cursing his name, lambasting his many misdeeds. Miraak sinks into his chair as his many influenced civilians relay your words to him. Despite the evident rage your voice is music to his ears, his name on your lips even sweeter. "I cannot even deal with dragons properly since he insists upon absorbing their Souls as soon as they're slain." Miraak hears you grumble a string of curses into your flagon, thrilled to know that he's so thoroughly gotten under your skin. He knows that it's dangerous to get on your bad side after spending lifetimes fearing that damned prophecy but he can't help himself. "Gods, I bet he's good looking too - that would explain why he's so full of himself." Miraak stutters, gripping the arms of his chair as he bolts upright. He can't hear whatever you say next, too stuck on that sentence. Staring up at the vaulted ceiling of his study he replays your words in his head, completely unable to move on. He can't recall the last time he'd braved a mirror, terrified that he won't recognize whatever looks back at him. Miraak's fingers trace the sharpest points of his mask as he ponders what you would think if you witnessed what lay beneath- would you consider him good looking? "What do you think he looks like under that mask?" Your companion giggles and Miraak falls back into his seat. He tells himself that he should stop listening, that hearing this conversation will do nothing but trouble him, but he cannot stop. The sound of your voice is far too intoxicating. "Perhaps a mass of writhing tentacles." "Ooh! Or a giant eyeball like Mora himself?" "Gross!" Your snicker and Miraak's stomach sinks - just what does he look like? He's sickened by the realization that he wants you to find his face pleasing. "He's got a nice voice, I'm sure he's handsome." You sigh, suddenly so serious. "All I can gather from our short interactions are the dark eyes, but even those I cannot seem to forget."

Arnbjorn vows to strangle you both. The clattering of some dish and a round of laughter rouses him from his sleep once more. He kicks back the blankets and notes that it's far past midnight. Everyone else in the Sanctuary is trying to sleep yet the two clowns continue to make a ruckus. He stomps through the chilly halls, biting back the onslaught of threats he hopes will banish you both to your chambers. He deals with you both enough during the day and now you dare to interrupt the few hours of quiet? Stopping just outside the kitchen, he takes in the empty wine bottles and upturned chairs you've certainly left in your wake. Cicero giggles at some joke you've made while Arnbjorn cleans up the dining area, gathering glasses and bottles onto the table. The last thing he wants is to hear either of you howl about getting cut on some broken glass. "God, Cicero - I want to be respectful but he's so fucking handsome." "Listener, perhaps you should tell him?" "How can I? 'Sorry about your wife, can I climb you like a tree'?" "Mm, maybe use softer language, Listener." Arnbjorn's ears are ringing. He's clutching the last bottle tight enough that he may break it. He isn't sure he's ever been so caught off guard - you want him? He thinks back on all the times you've bothered him; planting yourself in the middle of his workplace and asking inane questions about his project, skipping into the Sanctuary still smeared in blood to tell him about your mission, snuggling up to him and complaining about the wind during training sessions. God, he's dense. "How do I say it then?" You whine and Arnbjorn steps closer to the kitchen, catching sight of you both. Cicero's legs are crossed where he's perched on the counter, happily sipping from a glass while you're splayed on the kitchen floor. Your armor is tossed lazily at your side, leaving you in a soft tunic. "Mm, perhaps you should ask him?" Cicero's sharp eyes sparkle and Arnbjorn knows he's been spotted. He watches in horror as the jester's face splits into a knowing grin and you toss an arm over your eyes. "Ask Arnbjorn how to properly pine after him? Don't be silly." "Silly, practical - what's the difference?" Cicero sighs dramatically, dangling the glass between his fingers. "Your Keeper is merely solving your problems." All anger suddenly evaporating, Arnbjorn numbly returns to his chambers. He triple checks the locks on his door before sinking back into bed. A confusing mess of emotions whirls in his chest and threatens to suffocate him - it's been decades since he's had to worry about something like this. The gods know that his love for Astrid will be with him until the end of his days, but he begrudgingly acknowledges the sliver of attraction he's buried under all that annoyance. It's disgusting how much he enjoys that excited gleam in your eyes when he hands you a freshly sharpened dagger or the way his heart quickens each time you bounce toward him. Acutely aware of the moment you stumble from your bedchambers, Arnbjorn refrains from mocking you. Your hair is undone and you slump into a chair with your head in your hands. He stuffs down all those obnoxious nerves and slides into the seat next to yours. "Bit hungover?" Arnbjorn taunts, relishing in your groan. "How could you tell?" "Came out last night to shut you up and saw you layin' on the floor." "Gods, were we that loud?" "You're always loud." Arnbjorn tsks, patting your arm before he saunters toward his forge. "Good thing you're cute or I would've made you clean all that shit up." He struggles to keep a straight face when he hears your chair clatter to the ground, careless footsteps slapping against stone floors until you're grabbing at his arm and demanding an explanation.

Teldryn is a bit shocked to see you waltz right past him - sure he's in a different seat from usual, but to completely ignore him is a bit out of character. He turns, watching through his goggles as you prance around the Netch. He isn't sure why you're snooping around on so many tables instead of joining him but he settles in to watch. After you approach the bar he's certain you'll stop whatever little game this is and join him for a drink. He watches your brows furrow and struggles to hear whatever you're demanding of poor Geldis. "Have you seen Teldryn?" He picks out your voice among the crowd, grinning behind his cowl at the realization - you hadn't recognized him with the helmet on. He supposes it has been quite a while since he's worn it, finding conversation too difficult and often leaving the helmet in his pack in favor of speaking to you. "Teldryn Sero?" You clarify and Teldryn chuckles to himself. "A bit taller than me, snarky, annoyingly good looking?" Well, isn't that a fun bit of information. Teldryn feels quite smug when you take a deep drink and continue your slow walk through the tavern, suspiciously eyeing each table you pass. He knows it's probably wrong to enjoy the blatant frustration on your face but he can't help himself. He's certain that he's given himself away when you scan the upper level and he does nothing to hide the way he's openly staring at you. "Tel?" The soft tone of your voice squeezes at his heart. He removes the helmet and clears his throat, watching as you stand on your toes to peek around the room. The moment you finally spot him your smile is dazzling. Teldryn waves you over to the table and ignores the racing of your heart when you fall into the seat near his. "Tel." He loves the way you say his name like it's a greeting. "Where were you?" "Haven't moved in hours." He sighs, kicking a leg across your lap. "I guess you can't recognize me without seeing my annoyingly good looking face." "Oh fuck - how long is it going to take for you to let that go?" "I think I'll hold onto this for quite a while."

[xxchumanixx]

Hii, I have a request Tim Bradford X Grey!reader, I really liked the other one where she is Sergeant Grey’s adoptive daughter.

So basically she is a detective in another station, because you know, conflict of interests since she is his daughter.

she is younger than Tim, so age gap, 25 or so. She is a complete badass fr

and she goes to an undercover mission, a fancy party or something like that, alone. and things kinda get complicated, so the sergeant of the station where she works calls for backup, her father, because they are closer to where she is and also because he thought Wade would want to know his daughter is in danger.

so they get the call, and go to the place, and at first they don’t know she is grey’s daughter. They didn't know he had another daughter and that she was a detective, just because doing this dangerous job he was trying to protect her.

but she was handling things beautifully💅🏻💅🏻, and once they got there she had the suspects under control and was just slightly injured (like her arm idk). And she did it in a dress and in high heels 💅🏻💅🏻. I imagine she would be very sassy like Grey, also kind brag about what she just did. and then she starts flirting with Tim, HARD, in front of everyone and he starts blushing, absolutely melting because of her duh. everyone thought that was it, but no, she then transfers to her father station and from there her and Tim start dating, even if they shouldn’t, so once a few months has passed (and EVERYBODY knew but her father 💀💀, Angela and Nyla were for sure teasing them about it) he goes to Wade and gives up his position (Metro Tim has me in a chokehold 🥵🥵, y/n’s will agree with me for sure, with that cargo pants damn)

and that’s it, sorry it’s pretty long and there are for sure some mistakes, I’m not a native speaker 🥺🥺. Thank u if you will do it ❤️❤️❤️

Give it all

Tim Bradford x Grey!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, reader is Grey's daughter, swearing if you squint, canon typical violence

Word count: 3.386

Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I know it's a hell of a lot late, but I didn't get to write it, because you sadly spoilerd me (I was mid season 2 when you sent your request I think) and I didn't even know what you meant with the cargo pants at first😂 But now that I've watched til the end of season 5 (still waiting with bated breath for season 6 to air in Germany with German sync) I can finally write it.

And I know about those cargo pants now and I have to agree with you. Metro Tim is🔥!

Also, I made the reader a little older, just to stay in the possibilities of becoming a detective at a young age (don't know if it's really possible to become one at 25, so she's 27).

Still hope you'll like it, though!

I suck at titles I'm sorry.

Enjoy!

God damn it.

Why did everything you so neatly planned with your team have to go bust?

It was supposed to be an easy mission - get in, get the intel, get out.

Simple as that.

But nothing ever really goes to plan, does it?

Not to mention the dress you were wearing, intoxicating yet so unpractical. Or the heels at your feet, making it all the more harder to fight.

You were worried about the seam of the dress ripping, as you kicked the guard in front of you down to the ground, sending him asleep with a blow to his face.

It was pretty, but so hard to move in.

"Grey, get your ass out of there and wait for backup!" your commander yelled into the small earpiece you were wearing, making you flinch at his high pitched voice.

If you hadn't known his face, you'd mistaken him for a woman.

Swinging at the man in front of you, you hit his jaw, your fist stinging at the harsh contact. The man reeled back, releasing an angry yell, as he made a run for you.

God damn it.

Ducking away from him you kicked at his legs, using the momentum to disbalance him. He stumbled, but managed to catch himself rather quickly, before he pulled a knife out of his boot.

Really?

Groaning inwardly, you tried to avoid the shiny blade, dodging the blow with a jump to the side. It grazed your skin though, a line of blood soon trickling down your left arm.

So much for the dress now being ruined.

The man ran after you, but you pushed a cart into his way. He fell down on it, his weight being his disadvantage, the knife clattering to the ground.

You pinned him down from behind, cuffing him with the binders you'd found earlier. He tried to push you backwards, but you kneed his groin hard, causing him to cry out in agony, as he stopped struggling.

Pushing him to the ground where the other man was lying, you did the same to the unconscious one, tying his wrists together.

"Backup is there!" Granville gave through the earpiece, your eyes rolling at the information.

A bit late, weren't they?

Huffing, you left the men behind, returning to the grand hall where the gala was being held.

Your dress was ruined, stained with the blood that continued to trickle down your arm, dropping to the floor, and your feet hurt.

The room was earily silent, no music or chattering people. Police crowded the room, guns drawn.

You groaned, when you spotted your father amongst them, rolling your eyes for the millionth time this evening.

They watched you, as you walked towards them, your father's eyes widening at the blood. "You're late." you announced loudly, stopping right in front of the aligned officers. "They're in the office back there."

Wade rolled his eyes, motioning for some of the officers to gather the attackers, and for the rest to back down.

God only knew where your constant eye rolling came from.

"Get an ambulance!" he shouted, as the crowd started to disperse, before he walked over to you. Your eyes swiped over the officers, stopping at a particular handsome face.

He was tall, walking towards you and your father, with a female officer on his tail. "Sarge, what about Torres?" he wanted to know, eyes darting to you in curiosity for a brief moment.

Tilting your head, you gave him a once-over. "Didn't know mid Wilshire had such handsome officers." you pointed out, causing his gaze to snap back to yours.

Your father inhaled sharply, not saying anything though. They didn't know you were his daughter, him trying to shield you from threats.

Bradford, as his name tag read, grew a bit red in the face. Clearing his throat, he returned the gesture of giving you a once-over.

"Oh, upstairs are three more guards." you told your father, crossing your arms over your chest. "They should be still asleep, like the ones in the office."

One of his fingers tapped on his waistband, as he tried to calm himself. You were an adult, a detective working at a station farther down the city. You knew what you were doing.

He was still worried as hell, though.

"Good work." he muttered, avoiding to look at you. He couldn't deny that he preferred you to have a normal job, not risking your life when going undercover like this.

Your gaze went back to Sargeant Bradford, the stripes on his sleeves matching your father's. "I'm detective Y/N Grey." you introduced yourself, holding out your non bloody hand for him to shake.

His breath hitched in his throat at the name, still shaking your hand as he introduced himself as well. "Sargeant Tim Bradford."

"I thought we'd talked about this!" your father interrupted you with a hiss, just as your eyes were about to roam the broad figure of Tim Bradford once more.

Rolling your eyes yet again, you smirked at Tim, ignoring the fuming form of your father right beside you. "Nice to meet you."

Some of the other officers where already looking at you, watching the commotion. The woman that had followed Tim - officer Chen - bit her lip to stop from laughing.

Tim's face grew a deeper red in the meantime.

"Are you in a relationship?" you wanted to know, his eyes widening, as your father grabbed your non injured arm, deciding he had enough.

"Look, the ambulance is there." He tried to be calm, his grip harsh though, as he left you no choice but to follow him.

Sending Tim a wink, you smiled. "Hope we'll meet again, sargeant Bradford."

He didn't answer, only watching your retreating figure with deep interest.

_____

After a rather tiresome talk with your father, resulting in both of you shouting at each other, your captain decided to transfer you - to mid Wilshire.

Your father wasn't happy, knowing he'd now have to watch his own daughter getting in harms way.

Things with Tim were getting interesting, after a few weeks had passed.

You'd kept flirting with him, even though he was a bit hesitant at first. Now that you had transferred, everyone knew who's daughter you were.

He didn't want to end on your father's bad side, though still giving into your flirts after a while. Somewhere along the way he'd asked you out on a date.

It resulted in marvelous sex and more dates. It had clicked instantly, things going beautifully between you.

Feelings sparked, soon resulting in a confession.

You'd been walking through the park in the evening, watching the water from a bridge you were standing on.

His arm was around your waist, his warmth engulfing you. You'd been going on dates for two months now, just having left the restaurant. He'd planned to do it in a more romantic way, telling you how he felt.

As the water rippled beneath you, the moon and the lanterns shining down on it, he turned you towards him, your gaze finding his.

"I'm glad you transferred here." he began, taking your hands in his, entwining your fingers. You leaned more into him, heart beating faster in your chest.

"I'm glad we met and I'm glad you still kept flirting with me, even when I was hesitant about it at first." he continued, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "And I'm glad you accepted to go out on a date with me. I really like you, Y/N... I want you to know, that I've grown feelings for you."

He held his breath, waiting for you to respond.

Your lips split in a broad smile, leaning even closer. "Well, I'm glad that you feel this way." you replied, face inching closer. "Because I've grown feelings for you too, Tim."

He sighed in relief, tugging you closer to cover your lips with his. You returned the kiss, his hands on your waist, as yours brushed through his hair, locking behind his neck.

He was like a drug for you.

He'd swept you off his feet when you first saw him, catching your gaze in an instant. For him it was the same, even with the blood that trickled down your arm, the light scar a reminder of the night you met.

_____

"So, when do we get an invitation for a double date?" Angela quipped, stirring her coffee, as she sat down opposite you. Cocking a brow you looked up from your phone, that goofy smile still glued to your face without you noticing.

You'd been texting with Tim, his own shift a later one that had yet to start.

Angela's smile grew warmer, her head tilting. Your brows furrowed at her, confused about the way she was smiling at you.

"Don't act like you don't know what I mean." she told you, eyes narrowing the slightest bit. "It's obvious that you and Tim are dating."

Your cheeks grew warmer, eyes looking down on the table. "Please don't tell my father about it." you asked of her, knowing that denying the obvious wouldn't get you very far.

She huffed in amusement, shaking her head. "Don't worry, I won't tell him."

"Tell whom what?" someone spoke up behind you - Nyla. She poured herself a cup of coffee as well, joining you at the table. "Tell her father that her and Bradford are dating."

Nyla made a dismissive gesture, shaking her head. "Don't worry, it's so obvious, we wouldn't even have to tell him. He'll find out on his own."

Eyes widening, you sat up straighter.

Where you really this obvious?

They must have read your thoughts, snickering into their cups. "It's cute." Angela pointed out, sending you a wink. "But yes, it really is this obvious."

_____

"We can't go on like this." you told Tim the same evening after your talk with Angela and Nyla, forking at the food on your plate.

Tim cocked a brow, wondering what you were talking about. Looking up from your plate, you placed the fork down. "I mean us."

He froze, the pasta falling from his own fork back on the plate, before he placed it down as well. "What do you mean?"

He couldn't shake the fear that suddenly gripped him, eminent in his voice. He'd thought you'd love him?

"We can't keep this a secret anymore." you explained, leaning on your elbows. "Angela and Nyla are constantly teasing me about it. It's obvious, everyone knows except for my father - he would have decapitated me already if he'd know."

His heart stumbled, though relief filled him at your words.

You weren't breaking up with him.

"Then we'll make it official." he proposed, leaning forward as well. You bit your lip, contemplating it. Someday they would find out anyway.

You nodded, sending him a smile. "Let's make it official."

_____

You should have known it would be a bad idea.

You had a deja vu at the way your father was yelling at you, whilst your mother was shaking her head constantly at him.

She knew better than to interrupted him.

It felt like the time you'd set the bathroom on fire, trying to alter a dress of yours when you were young.

Your father had his very own opinion about you trying to be a fashion designer.

You were waiting for him to finish his speech, knee bouncing as you stared at the wall behind him.

He inhaled deeply and you used the opportunity to interrupt him.

"I love him." you told him firmly, standing up from the chair.

Wait, what?

You loved him?

Well, yes, you did.

"I love him and I won't leave him just because you tell me to. You don't like it? Well, you don't have to. I'm an adult, I'm 27 and I can decide on my own. I can choose who I love and who I date, I don't have to ask for your permission."

He was stunned, noticing once more that you were in fact, an adult. You're mother was smiling to herself, never having had any problems with you dating Tim, even if he was a few years older than you.

Wade grumbled something to himself, wondering when you'd grown so much. To him you were still his little girl, he had to protect you.

"I'm okay with leaving mid Wilshire, if I have to. But I won't be leaving Tim." you clarified, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shook his head, wiping over his face with his hand in a tired manner. "Since when are you this grown?" he wanted to know, voice defeated. "You're my little girl, I have to protect you!"

You couldn't help the smile that fought its way onto your lips. "Dad, you don't have to protect me - protect Dom, not me. She's still so young. I'm a grown-up, I can look after myself."

Luna chuckled, agreeing with a tilt of her head. "Our daughter should be free to decide what she wants." she spoke, putting a hand on your father's arm. "Let her date him, don't ruin this for her."

He sighed heavily, head hanging low. Nodding, he looked at his wife, before he looked at you.

"But you're not leaving mid Wilshire."

_____

"I have to." Tim pressured, pecking your lips. "And I want to. Metro is great, it's an opportunity I want to take."

He had proposed to transfer to the metro, after a position had been cleared, giving him a chance he wanted to take. He secretly hoped he'd get the job - it would make things a lot easier and he had thought about it even before you two met.

He'd be going to your father today, giving up his position if the metro was willing to take him in. He'd already talked to their chief, meeting her in a few minutes to discuss things.

You were nervous about it.

Sure, you knew he wanted to go to the metro, but you were worried he'd regret it. But you knew you had to let him do this.

They rest of the day went on like chewing gum.

Whilst you were working on some cases, he talked to the metro. You bad trouble concentrating, Angela soon noticing.

"What's up with you?" she wanted to know, leaning on the small wall that divided your desk and the hallway. Looking up from the papers you'd read three times already, you pushed them aside.

"Tim's trying for a position at the Metro." you told her, leaning your head on your hand. Her eyes widened, letting go of the air inside her lungs. "Wow."

You nodded, biting your lip. "Im happy if he gets the position, but I fear he's doing it because he feels pressured to do." you explained. "I don't want him to regret his decision."

Angela shook her head, adjusting her position. "He won't." she assured you. "Tim knows what he wants. Just as he knows that he wants you. He'd have done everything in his power to ensure that, believe me. If he tries for the position, than it's because he wants to."

You nodded, trying to belive her words.

You really hoped she was right.

_____

Tim wrought his hands nervously, trying to calm his racing heart, before he would face your father.

He had been a bit harsher on Tim since he knew you were dating, but he refused to let it bother him.

Entering the watch commander's office, he braced himself for the conversation ahead of him.

Wade looked up when he entered, putting his pen down and crossing his arms on the desk. "Bradford, what can I do for you?"

Tim closed the door, sitting down on the chair opposite Wade's. "I want to transfer to the Metro." he spoke, getting right to the topic.

Grey's eyes widened - even if he kept a closer eye on him due to the relationship with his daughter, he wasn't willing to give him up that easily.

"Are you sure?" he wanted to know, his eyes wandering to your desk for a brief moment. He couldn't really see you, but he knew you were there - and Angela was as well, still talking to you.

Tim nodded, licking his lip. "I've talked to their chief and their willing to take me in." he explained, swallowing. "I think it's better this way."

Wade rubbed his chin, humming to himself.

"Are you doing this, because you want to, or because you feel forced to?" he inquired, gaze fixed on his Sargeant.

Tim cleared his throat, never breaking eye contact. "Because I want to." he responded. "I was thinking about going to the metro for a while now, not just because of your daughter."

Wade nodded, contemplating.

"Do you love her?"

Tim was taken aback by the question, still nodding fervently. "I do. Why?"

Wade nodded too, looking down on his desk. "Do you plan to marry her?"

Tim choked on his saliva, growing red as he desperately tried to regain his breath. Wade cocked a brow at his flustered face, eyes wide as Tim stared at his watch commander.

"I think it's a bit early for that." Tim gave back, swallowing hard. Wade huffed, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. "But when the time comes, I would want to."

Wade was pleased to hear that, the smallest smile gracing his lips.

"Well then, if you want to transfer to the metro, I'm sad to see you go but I won't stop you." he told him, sitting more straight again. "It was my honor to be your watch commander."

Tim looked up from his lap, where his eyes had landed moments before, disbelieve evident in his features. Grey sent him a smile, nodding slightly.

"It was my honor, too, Sarge."

_____

You didn't see Tim, before you went home that evening.

Did he get the position?

When he entered his house - you had a key, already having cooked - you couldn't help the impatience that overtook your senses.

"Did you get the position?" you wanted to know, greeting him in the hallway.

He cocked a brow at you, fighting a smirk. "Let me get home first." he chided, shaking his head as the smirk won.

Rolling your eyes, you walked back into the living room, waiting for him to join you at the dining table.

When he did, his hands found your hips, tugging you closer to kiss you. You returned it, sighing contently. He deepened the kiss, but you separated from him.

"Did you get it?"

He rolled his eyes at how impatient you were, but smiled down at you eventually. "I did." You smiled back, happy for him, as you kissed him again.

He smiled into the kiss, before he leaned back. "And I talked to your father."

Your smile fell, a sigh leaving your lips.

"He didn't want to let me go, but he eventually agreed."

Nodding, you bit your lip, the smile slowly returning. You knew that Tim was one of the best at mid Wilshire, and your father knew too.

"Let's eat, baby."

_____

"Damn, those cargo pants make me want to stay instead of going to work."

You bit your lip as you watched him dress, the pants definitely going to be a weak spot for you. He smirked, capturing your lips with his own. "We have to get ready, I don't want to be late on my first day."

The pants in combination with the boots made you go weak in the knees. It was tempting to just seduce him and stay, but you knew he was right.

It didn't mean you wouldn't seduce him later in the evening, though.

"It'll be hard to concentrate when I see you in these pants." you admitted, staring at them. He chuckled, redirecting your gaze with a finger under your chin. "We have to go." he reminded you, grinning.

He had trouble not giving into you and stay as well, so he tried to get you two on your way to work as fast as possible.

You let him walk in front of you, so you could stare at his ass, as he ushered you out of the house.

Damn, those pants would be the death of you.

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm

@augustvandyne @rookietrek

[angeleyez225]

Noticing You

DarylxF!Reader

**summary: Daryl notices you.

**setting: Alexandria Safe Zone, prob S5… maybe later

**word count: 2K+

**warnings: smut, swearing, age gap, brief m!masterbating, p in v, no protection - pull out game strong, at first, mentions of oral f!receiving - 18+, minors DO NOT interact, NSFW

**a/n: I do not own anything related to The Walking Dead nor am I making any money from the writing of this fanfic. This is just something that came to me in the middle of the night. I hope you enjoy!

*****

Daryl noticed you - despite being twice your age. Every time you stepped into his line of sight his gaze washed over you - you were the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

You noticed Daryl too - the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when your eyes met - his fingers tightening into fists at his sides when you were lucky enough to be able to idly touch him. The brush of your hand against his when you reach for the same dusty item on a supply run, your palm on his shoulder in passing.

You were Alexandria’s best scavenger - smart, quiet and a native to Northern Virginia. You accompanied Rick’s group on supply runs often - impressed with their skill set, especially the archers.

One particular quest found you trapped in a small supply closet with Daryl while the dead marched through - your back pressed against his front as you tried to steady your breathing - panic washing over you from the surrounding dead and the warmth radiating from your company. Daryl stood like a statue behind you, holding his breath until he worried he’d pass out to keep from breathing in your delicious scent. He didn’t know if he’d survive it again.

After that he tried to avoid you. You were too young, too sweet for someone like him and he didn��t deserve these feelings that bloomed in his chest whenever he saw you so he kept his head down whenever you were around, much to your dismay.

“Jesus.” Abraham muttered before returning his attention to sharpening his knife with a shake of his head as you made your way down the quiet street with a coy smile on your face. Curiosity got the best of the archer who stood leaned against the porch railing, bringing his eyes up to yours as a muffled groan escaped his throat.

In your defense it was late summer causing beads of sweat to roll down your neck as you stopped to say hello, hands on your hips and hair pulled up high on your head - little wisps blowing around your face with the too warm breeze. Your thin white camisole of a shirt and cut off jean shorts left almost nothing for the imagination and Abraham kept his eyes on his blade as the man standing behind him began to growl deep in his chest.

In his defense Daryl tried to look away, weakness wasn’t easy for him but you were just to god damn beautiful not to soak it all in so he looked - eyes falling from your neck to your collarbone then over your scraps of clothes to appreciate your legs from the very tops of your exposed thighs all the way to your calf’s.

When you continued on your way his eyes were glued to your perfect ass, barely contained by the scraps of denim you tried to pass off as shorts. “That girl knows exactly what she’s doing.” Abraham muttered with another shake of his head as Daryl grunted a response before jerking the front door open on their gifted home and storming off through the quiet house. He didn’t stop moving until he was standing under a steady stream of cold water with his cock in his hand, working himself into a frenzy with his other palm pressed hard against the shower wall. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt the need to relieve himself from all this sexual tension but you were driving him fucking crazy.

How old even were ya? Too young to have someone like him jerking off to the thought of you wrapped around his cock as he pumped himself deep inside of you over and over. God, the sounds he knew you could make - soft gasps and desperate groans as he fucked you into oblivion and the way you’d look after - cock drunk and gazing up at him with those beautiful fucking eyes. A quiet groan escaped him as he tightened his grip, cock jerking with release as he imagined filling your sweet fucking cunt.

Daryl lifted his face to the stream of water, slinging his hair from his eyes and breathing hard as he placed his other hand against the wall and groaned at the thought of you - trying to steady the heavy thumping in his chest.

When he sees you again he can’t look you in the eye no matter how much he wants to - standing across from you with his bow high on his shoulder as Rick and Michonne study the map to determine where to scavenge today. Your eyebrow lifts in concern as you watch a deep blush creep up Daryl’s neck and into his cheeks as his eyes dart to everything around you.

“Daryl?”

You both turn your attention to Rick’s deep voice as he repeats his request - that the two of you take the bike and head west to a small independent pharmacy located just off the highway while they return to the shopping mall you visited a few days ago. You’re just about to protest - being that close to him? No good will come from it but the quick alright he gives widens your gaze. Alright? Daryl just shrugs and nods to his bike as you wish the others safe travels and watch him straddle the seat waiting for you to join him.

There’s no denying the tension in his body as you place his bow on your back and slide your fingers across his shoulders, gripping the coiled muscles softly as you throw your leg over the seat and sink your chest into his back - listening to his breath catch in his throat. “Is this okay?” You whisper against his ear as you slide your arm around his waist - almost missing the slight nod of his head. “Hold on.” He mutters and guns the motorcycle out of Alexandria without another word.

You ride in silence as Daryl eventually relaxes his weight into your chest and you grip his shirt with your fingers - enjoying the breeze and the scenery as you roll down the highway with just the sound of the motorcycle roaring beneath you. You’re thankful Daryl agreed to let you ride with him - this is better than being in that stuffy Honda with Rick and Michonne who have their own sexual frustrations radiating off them every second of the day.

Your thoughts return to the sexy archer as he speeds down the highway sending a surge of excitement to your core - giving you the courage to lower your hold on him just an inch and splay your fingers across his tight stomach as the tension returns to his back. The thought of releasing some of his tension brings a smile to your lips as you grip him tighter and he slows the bike a notch - afraid he’s frightening you or worse, hoping it will make you loosen your hold on him.

No chance in hell, Dixon. If anything you push yourself closer, tightening your thighs around his hips and running your hand up his chest - gripping him just below his throat. The bike falters again but this time you don’t think it has anything to do with his concern for you and his back expands with a deep needed breath.

When you make it to your destination neither of you move at first and Daryl is breathing hard, your hands still clinging to his chest. “Daryl… I…” You listen to his breath catch as his name slips from your lips and then he’s angry, pushing you back before leaping from the motorcycle and glaring at you.

You’re still straddling his bike with wide eyes as he paces before you like a caged animal, grunting and everything. “Daryl.”

“Stop!”

“Stop what?” You just said his name. “Whatever the fuck this is - jus’, stop. Please…” He’s not yelling - he’s pleading with you and the sound only makes you want him more. You spread your legs slightly, allowing those damn barely there shorts to ride up your thighs even further. Daryl looks up from your legs slowly with a storm brewing in his blue eyes and the next thing you know he’s crossed the short distance and sunk a hand into the back of your hair - bringing you to his parted lips roughly as he kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before.

Teeth scraping and tongues demanding - his other hand grasps your jaw as his tongue savors every inch of your mouth leaving you gasping for air when he finally pulls away. His eyes are searching yours and then he’s mumbling something about you being so fucking sweet before he’s kissing you again.

After that second kiss there was no going back, that second kiss had you bent over his motorcycle with your chest pressed to the seat and his rough hands on your waist - thrusting into your soaked cunt so deep it had you seeing stars. “D-Daryl…” Even the slow shuffle of a nearby walker didn’t stop his pace as he lifted his bow and sunk a bolt deep into its brain before tossing it back to the ground and gripping the soft curve of your ass as you tightened around him. “F-fuck, that’s it…” That’s everything he knew this would be, gripping him so fucking tight - your soft pleas for more filling his head as your pussy suddenly gushed around him and he lost all sense of control - slamming into you so fucking hard he silently prayed you’d feel him inside of you for weeks.

“M’gonna come.” Daryl announced to the empty street as he gripped your hip with one hand and jerked his dick from deep inside of you with the other - covering your swollen cunt with ropes of white as a deep groan fell from his throat. “F-fuck.”

His desperation melts away as Daryl wraps his strong hands around you and lifts you from the motorcycle, breathing hard against your throat as he sweetly asks if you’re okay. You nod and assure him you’re better than okay before pulling your shorts up your thighs with a grin.

The look on Daryl’s face when you mentioned you never bothered with panties was one that would be burned into your memory for a long time and you knew he was thinking of all those days he silently watched you walk through Alexandria in just a dress. He thought about it so much that the next time you walked past him in town with that bright knowing smile on your lips and the soft material of your dress barely brushing against your thighs he followed you home and buried his face between your legs - staying on his knees before you until your entire body was shaking with pleasure and when he finally fucked you it was something else entirely - something soft and sweet and left a foreign emotion blooming in both of you.

An emotion that scared the shit out of Daryl and kept him away after that - away from you, from Alexandria. He spent his time in the woods after the night he fucked into you slowly and desperately and whispered how beautiful you were against your throat. Then when it all got to be to much and you were gripping him so fucking tight he lost himself inside of you - sending a panic between you both despite your assurance it would be okay.

That time had been okay but by the fourth time he returned to your door step and fucked you into oblivion your son was born nine months later, then your daughter a year after that. You’d given Daryl everything he’d ever wanted - a family, something worth protecting and the night he asked you to marry him - quietly with his son asleep across his chest and his daughter nuzzled in your arms tears filled your eyes as you kissed him until he carried the kids to their beds and returned to your waiting mouth, climbing over your perfect body as he ran his lips over every inch of you while you assured him you’d marry him right now if he wanted but right now all he wanted was to be buried deep inside of you again.

*****

[sunlight-fics]

Andrew x reader during and after fights headcanon!!!

I have been dying for someone to request something like this!!!!

———————————————————————

Hozier X Reader headcanons

During and after a fight/argument

Warnings: cussing

During the argument

(This isn’t a simple/little argument)

* He would most definitely get over defensive

* You both would be afraid that this argument would cause a break up

* Both equally to prideful to be proven wrong in this situation

* He would get so mad to the point that he would start pacing back and forth

* You would definitely get so mad that you would call him by his full name (first middle and last name)

* It was absolutely devastating for him to see you cry at your breaking point

* You would probably get so mad that you would cuss him out

* “No wonder they all left, who could love you?!” Said With all intentions to hurt

* “I- you know what…. Forgot it. It’s pointless to argue with someone like yourself, motherfucker.”

* His heart is absolutely broken but he’s is not about to let down his guard.

* You ended up say at a friends house until you felt like the tension was gone(you were wrong)

* “Of course! Of course I’m never enough for you!”

* “I am tired and over this. Please just leave!”

*************************************************

After the argument

(Don’t worry y’all get a happy ending)

* TENSION YOU COULD CUT WITH THE DULLEST KNIFE

* You were the first to say sorry and admit that what you said was wrong

* It took him a while to forgive you, but in the end he did.

* Once he forgave you, he apologized right after.

* You both forgave each other and gave each other the longest and forgiving hug.

* “I couldn’t sleep with out you and I am sorry.”

* “I am so sorry, please don’t believe any hurtful thing I said….”

* You ended up moving back with him.

* “I swear to god i thought I lost you forever.”

* Tons and tons of hugs and kisses and cuddles.

* A week later he was still feeling super guilty and upset with himself but you reassured him that it was all ok. He still didn’t believe it so you fixed him tea and cuddle up with him under one of his favorite blankets.

* Both promised that if there are any fights in the future that you both will talk through it like civilized human beings and try to see each other perspective/understanding.

* “i love you so much, Andrew…”

* “I love you too, darling.”

Notes: hope you enjoyed!!! Request are always open and appreciated! Also I had no idea what song would match so y’all got Unknown/ Nth.

(“Does it always rain in Wicklow?” Fanfic dropping soon!)

[bigtreefest]

Take a Stab

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: You and Ari rent a secluded cabin at the lake for your one year anniversary.

Word Count: 2,537

Content/Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, SMUT, protected p in v sex, outdoor sex, praise, secrecy and surprises, coffee sipping, happy crying, mentions of knife usage for whittling, pet names, like one swear

A/N: Ro, thank you for this hot gif. Ari with that sexy lean and the chest hair will never not do something to me. This. This is Ari getting up and making himself a pot of coffee when Duchess doesn’t think he’s awake yet.

As always, a great thank you to everyone who reads. I love your feedback in all forms. 🥰

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ari woke up to the creaking sound of the screen door at the front end of the cabin opening and closing. He immediately turned in the flannel sheets, reaching out for you, only to find your side of the bed still warm, but empty. Had you left something in the car? No way, he remembers checking one last time last night when bringing your bags into the cabin you had rented for the weekend. So what were you doing up when he knew this was a weekend built for sleeping in?

You and Ari were celebrating your one year anniversary together at the lake. Sure, you had your own cabin with gorgeous views, but this was a special occasion. And you didn’t live this close to water. A word to the wise: always take the opportunity to be near a body of water with Ari Levinson. He’ll most likely be shirtless, and that’s an image created by God himself. And definitely don’t turn down the opportunity of a canoe ride sunset picnic, either. The view is gorgeous…

But that was last night, and this is now. You woke up early in the hopes of getting a few minutes to prepare your surprise for him. A gift of true love to show how much you really valued Ari and took note of the meanings of his gestures. This was one you wanted to return: you were whittling him a spoon.

About a month into your relationship, Ari had gifted you one, along with his prized pocket knife over a bonfire in his backyard. He pulled out a block of wood to show you a few different techniques and how to get started, and that was one of the first moments you realized you really just enjoyed being with him. Sharing knowledge. Growing.

At the time, you didn’t know the significance of either of those things: the spoon and the knife. You just thought whittling was a cute little thing he did since he had the time and he had handed the knife over because he wanted you to be prepared since you were newly living in the outdoors. Nearly a year later, now, though, you were finally almost finished with your spoon for him. And Ari was constantly still shopping, looking for a knife like the one he gave you since it was no longer in stock, unbeknownst to you.

You had no idea the level of skill that went into making something as simple, or so you believed, as a spoon. It definitely wasn’t a throwaway gesture. And for him to do it that early into your relationship? You realized how much you’ve meant to him this entire time.

You could tell the knife was special, too, by the way he looked at you when you used it. He loved knowing it was almost always on your person, especially on hikes, and he was always trying to show you how versatile it was.

All that was left were the finishing touches: completing a small little carving of a bear in the handle, and then sanding it. If you played it right, you should be able to finish before Ari gets up. He should be exhausted from all of last night’s….activities still. So you had carefully slipped out of bed, reluctantly leaving his naked warmth, as to not jostle him, grabbed your supplies, and headed out onto the cabin’s wraparound balcony which overlooked the lake. It was a beautiful view, which in a few minutes would host the sunrise.

When Ari woke up in a jolt, he immediately padded through the cabin, looking through the windows to see where your possibly could’ve gone. As he got to the kitchen, halfway to the front door, he was relieved to see your head peeking over the outdoor furniture. Ari breathed out his sigh of relief as he moved around the large island and started to make a pot of coffee. You hadn’t even done that, probably out of fear of waking him, which led him to wonder what you were keeping so secretive.

He pulled down a mug from the cabinet, rinsing and filling it with hot water as the coffee brewed, to get the mug warm, doing the same for yours. He leaned back against the counter as he waited, looking out towards you. The amazing scenery around him didn’t hold a flame to your glow, even coming from someone who had admired nature his entire life. This was a dream vacation for him, but honestly, Ari would’ve visited a garbage dump as long as it was with you.

The front door surprisingly blocked out the loud whirring of the old machine since you didn’t stir as the last drops of coffee sputtered out. Ari poured out the water and filled the mugs, sauntering towards the side door of the cabin to the balcony. If you could be secretive, he could, too. And this door was much quieter.

As Ari rounded the corner of the porch, the high-pitched scratching of sandpaper became louder. He perched himself at the corner, silently setting down your mug and leaning against the railing. He just stood and watched you for another second, the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you were completing a task he was all too familiar with.

You held the spoon in front of you, checking if you missed any spots when you were startled by the sound of slurping coming from your side. You jumped, dropping the spoon when you saw Ari taking a sip of his coffee. The smile that grew on his face when your eyes met took your attention from his nearly nude form. He must’ve slipped shorts on before coming out here. Shame. You were about the same, though, only wearing a fresh shirt you plucked from his duffel on your way out here. Now he had one less clean shirt to wear? Tragic. Guess he was gonna have to find a way to deal. You wouldn’t mind.

Your face mirrored his, beaming in the soft haze of first light, before your face fell when realized what he had walked out to see you doing. You scrambled to pick the spoon up off the deck, tucking it behind your back. You sighed, slumping back in your chair and raising an eyebrow at him.

Ari continued to smirk at you, taking another sip of his coffee before clearing his throat. His voice still held a bit of a deep grumble from how early it was. “Good morning, Duchess. Keeping secrets, are we?”

He gave a light laugh as he grabbed your mug, making his way over to sit next to you. You grabbed your coffee in defeat, taking a big gulp before setting it down next to the knife on the small coffee table and turning to face him. Ari pulled your legs over his in habit as you reached up to stroke his bearded cheek.

“Less of a secret and more of a surprise. I thought you weren’t going to be up yet.” You leaned in to Ari kissing your forehead and pulled away.

Ari set down his mug next to yours and took the opportunity to pull you close, resting his chin on top of your head before pulling away again and leaning in for a proper kiss.

“Kinda hard to sleep when you’re missing…And you’re a loud walker. Zero stealth skills, Angel.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and lightly smacked his chest before reaching a hand behind you.

“I’m sneaky enough to have gotten by for this long. Now do you want your surprise or not?”

Ari knew the drill by this point, closing his eyes and pulling a large hand from its place rubbing your back and holding it out between the two of you as you pulled out the spoon. His one eye cracked open just enough for him to catch a glance at your proud smile before closing it again. He hadn’t gotten a very good look at what exactly you were doing before, so when he felt the curved wood hit his palm, Ari froze with stark, full realization.

His long eyelashes fluttered open just for tears to immediately soak them. He looked down and examined the smooth, freshly sanded wood before looking back up at you. You were immediately struck with worry at his visceral reaction.

“What, did I do something wrong? Are you upset I used your knife for it? Is it that bad? You don’t have to accept it.” You bit your lip in worry as Ari shook his head and ran his thumb over the small, intricate bear engraving in the handle. He could see how much time you put into it.

He quickly pulled the spoon to his chest like he would die if it ever left his grip. “No, it’s perfect. I love it so much. I’m just so…happy. You made this? Just for me?” He was touched beyond belief.

You giggled as tears began to fill your eyes at his reaction. “Yeah, of course I did. It took me way longer than I expected, but now we match.”

Ari nodded and sniffled before pulling you into a tight hug, tucking his face into your neck. You shivered at the vibration against you as he spoke. “God, I love it so much. I love you so much. I can’t believe you made this. Thank you.”

You ran your hands up and down his back in a soothing gesture, moving upward until you were at the nape of his neck. You began running your nails through his hair and Ari pulled away to look at you, deep blue eyes sparkling in the first few rays of the sunrise. He moved to set down the spoon, careful to keep an eye on it before he dragged you to straddle his lap.

“Really, Duchess. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. How long did it take you?”

You continued scratching his head as his eyes closed in satisfaction. “Hmm, about a year. I worked on it on and off. It’s not very easy, especially the little carving.”

Ari hummed. “Yeah, I bet. It’s absolutely amazing. I’ve never tried anything like that but you did great. You put me on it.” He opened his eyes and beamed up at you.

“Of course I did. You’re my sweet Bear. You deserve the same as you give. I love you so much.” You returned the smile and leaned in to kiss him.

Your tongues danced together in a tango of deep, overwhelming desire before pulling away, Ari pulling your hips down tighter against his crotch. You didn’t miss the deepening smirk on his face and the fire filling his eyes. “You know, it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful sunrise. What do you say you and I go up to the railing to watch it together?”

The sunrise was beautiful, painting the sky in pastel strokes of orange, red, and purple. You were enjoying the view, bent at the hips, leaned over the railing, with Ari right behind you, holding you close. Your shirt was hiked up, hanging on your hard nipples as Ari’s shorts hung just low enough for him to have pulled out his cock.

Ari was dragging against your walls in slow, deep strokes, as one hand rubbed your clit in circles in time with his hips and the other gently tweaked a nipple. His head rested on your shoulder, body molded against yours, as he looked out over the lake with you.

Every now and then, Ari turned his head to kiss your neck in the spot just above where it met your shoulder. The one that made you let out those delicious moans every time. He whispered in your ear as your one hand squeezed his forearm over your chest, the other digging into the railing as you braced yourself against the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so amazing. So talented. I can tell you worked so hard for me. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You whined and clenched at that, thriving on Ari’s praise and having thought the same about forever before, but never verbalizing it. Ari was it for you and the perfect shared moment proved it. You couldn’t have expected a better reaction to your gift. To have someone just as understanding of the little things as you was soothing to your soul. To have someone who carried their gestures with the same weight was one in billions and you couldn’t believe you found him.

You threw your head back against Ari’s shoulder, whimpering between heavy breaths. “So good, I-hmmm- I love you, Bear.”

You felt Ari’s chest rumble as he moaned against you, picking up his pace and grunting near your ear, captivated by the way the sun was hitting both of you, lighting up the heavenly moment. “Ah, I love you more, Angel. You’re so good to me. So sweet.“

He rubbed your clit faster, both of you rising towards your peak with the sun that was nearly cresting the horizon, almost fully in the sky. Your eyes squeezed shut before Ari looked over and caught it, taking his hand off your clit. “Ah ah ah, eyes open. Don’t wanna miss this moment.”

You forced your eyelids apart and looked over at Ari, a thin sheet of sweat causing some of his hair to stick to his forehead. The golden light was highlighting his features and weaving through his beard gorgeously. He was right, you wouldn’t have forgiven yourself for missing out on this view. He put his hand back on your clit and rubbed in furious circles, leaning in to kiss you harder, sloppier. When he pulled away, he softly smiled at you and spoke through red kiss-soaked lips. “Good girl.”

His warm breaths hit your cheek as your smile mixed with your blissed-out face. Your pussy fluttered and squeezed harder. You could feel yourself getting close as Ari’s thrusts became uneven. “Please. Please, Ari. Give it to me. Come with me.”

Your words set him off as Ari spilled into the condom within your tightening walls. He continued rubbing your clit and shuddering in response to your rhythmic squeezing against him as you leaned more of your weight into the railing, gasping for air after your release. Ari placed a kiss against your shoulder as he gingerly pulled out. He rested his forehead between your shoulder blades before quickly running inside to dispose of the condom and refresh your coffees.

When he came back out, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back close to his front and kissing you cheek. You turned and smiled up at him, nestling in closer, enjoying the view of the brightened trees and reflective water, surrounded by Ari, nature, and nothing else for miles.

Ari’s eyes twinkled when he caught your gaze again and held it. “This is the most amazing day ever already, Duchess.” He kissed your forehead. Neither of you had even been up for an hour yet, but you agreed that there’s not much else that could make it any better.

“Absolutely perfect, Bear.”

Bonus A/N: Whittling a spoon for someone is like, a HUGE sign of love. That PAIRED WITH giving over your prized knife? Y’all can deduce what that means. And yes, I do have a spoon whittled, waiting for the right day… what about it??

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

@jamneuromain

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[bookshelf-dust]

the bad shit

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 1,192

warnings: swearing, possible allusions to depression, brief mention of death, a tiny finger injury, comfort

a/n: my brain does not seem to be in a writing mood right now, but i did manage to crank this out. i do enjoy making billy cry, so there’s that. i hope it’s alright! please let me know what you think. i’d really appreciate it. <33

————

Billy’s been fidgety since he woke. 

You hear the soft thud of his boots, muffled against the carpet of your bedroom floor. He makes his way towards you and kisses your forehead, knowing you’re probably too sleepy for a real kiss this early.

He doesn’t tell you how badly he needs one—that his hands are shaking with it. Though he doesn’t need to tell you. 

You’d heard his alarm clock go off, felt him stay in bed longer than usual, glimpsed him rubbing his face on the way to the bathroom. He hadn’t wanted to get up. Not one bit. 

And even though you can feel sleep calling you, feel the way it presses at your eyes, the way the warmth of the bed pulls you in—you sit up. 

Billy’s closer to the door now, but he hears you shuffle, and he’s quick to move back to you. 

“You need to sleep, baby.”

But your hands are already on his cheeks, and then you’re kissing him, shutting him up and telling him you’re right here. And you’ll be right here when he gets home from work. You’ll be a phone call away if he needs you during his shift. 

“I’ll walk you out,” you say, and your tone informs him that there’s no room for arguments.

You hook your fingers in his belt loops as you push off the bed, hoping that this will keep your half-asleep form from slamming into the wall. 

You kiss Billy again on the stoop, even if he is berating you for being barefoot in the cold. You watch him walk to the car, catch the way his fingers fumble with the keys, the way he doesn’t even have it in him to slam the door shut. 

He waves at you from behind the steering wheel.

“I love you,” you mouth, blowing a kiss. He’s quick to catch it in his hand, gesturing so that he’s tucking it away in his pocket for later. He responds just as he always does, but you can tell he’s still sleepy. 

That he’s tired. 

————

You aren’t home when Billy gets back to the house. There’s a note on the counter in your sweet scrawl, telling him that you ran out to pick up dinner. Eating at all had completely slipped his mind. 

Billy’s just having a day. He’d wanted to stay home but couldn’t, and not only has he been fidgety, unable to focus for want of home, of you, but his thoughts are getting the better of him. They’re suffocating. Telling him he’s not good enough for you, that he’s a waste of time—of your time. That he should’ve died like he was supposed to in that fucking mall. 

And he knows it isn’t true. He knows that you loved him before any of that, when he was just being an asshole, when he was just pissed that he’d had to move. And you love him now, even when he has bad days like this. 

But his head. His mind. It tells him otherwise. It fights and it claws and it screams at him. And today he is losing that fight, letting his mind yell and tear at him. 

Billy tries to distract himself and wash the dishes, but he only gets so far before he drops something and almost breaks it, before he cuts his finger on a knife he put in the damn sink. After that he tries to find a band-aid but spills all of them on the floor, and the first one he opens gets stuck on the wrapper and he can’t use it. 

Once he does secure the pink bandage around his pinky, he goes to clean up his mess and hits his head on the counter. He tries to change clothes and trips, gets his belt loop stuck on a drawer handle. 

“God fucking dammit.”

After that one he gives up and throws himself on the kitchen floor, choosing a beer with a pull tab rather than a cap for fear he might actually hurt himself and bleed out.

He hears the sound of you locking your car, the door squeaking when you open it, and he knows he should’ve gotten up to help you, but he just couldn’t. He starts to cry. 

“Billy? Where’s my baby?” 

The sound of your voice causes him to hiccup, and you’re on the floor in front of him in a matter of seconds. 

He’s covering his face with his hands, and you know then that the day must’ve gotten the better of him. 

“Hey, let me see you. It’s okay, honey, I’m right here.”

Billy looks up at you, lashes clumped together with tears, nose red and lips all swollen. He looks so frustrated with himself, so beat, that you ache for him. 

He wishes he was stronger. That he wasn’t breaking down in the middle of the kitchen, but you told him once that it’s okay to have bad days. That you're always going to be there on the worst ones. 

He puts the beer down the moment you hold your arms out, crawling into your lap and burying his face in your chest. You don’t care that he’s heavy or that you’re not entirely sure you’re getting any air in your lungs. You care that he’s letting go and that he’s showing you this vulnerable part of himself. 

Billy cries, he weeps, against you for what seems like forever. But you don’t mind. You only want him to feel better. You rub his back, play with his hair, anything to soothe him just that little bit. 

When he’s finished, when he’s caught his breath, he pulls away. His cheeks are pink and you’re sure he’s berating himself for having just sobbed like that. He’s sitting on his knees, fingers scratching at the freckled skin of his arms. He looks young like this. Lost.

“Was it just a bad day? Or is it the bad shit?” 

That is Billy code for I’m spiraling and I need help. For I’m having a hard time and I can’t do it alone. I don’t know how to say it. 

You established that little code pretty early on in your relationship, knowing it would be helpful in getting Billy to talk about his feelings with you. 

“The bad shit,” he tells you. 

“It’s not true,” you say. “Whatever your head is telling you today, it’s not true. Not today, not ever. You gotta say it for me, okay?”

He gives you the barest shake of his head before he pauses and tries to steel himself so that he can do it. He doesn’t want to let you down. 

“It’s not true.”

You grin at him. “Right. And you’re a badass. And we’re gonna eat dinner, and then we’re gonna talk it out, and then we will lay down. And maybe I’ll scratch your back for you.”

Billy nods. He hates that his breath catches at that, that the offer brings him pure, unadulterated joy. 

“Okay.”

He can do that. He knows he can offer that much. 

Because he is a badass. And he can try for you. For himself. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @clovermunson

[intoanotherworld23]

At His Mercy

Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: MATURE CONTENT NSFW 18+ ONLY, this one shot contains use of a sex toy, use of vibrator, denial of orgasm, mentions of sex, swear words

Length: 1091 words

Summary: Joel decides to teach you a hard lesson when he overhears a conversation between you and his brother

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

Imagine him pulling out a vibrator instead of a knife in this GIF cause that’s what I did! Tag list is open for Pedro! Hearts, reblogs and comments are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy everyone! XOXO

"Joel please." You begged from the bed the handcuffs digging into your skin.

Joel was standing at the foot of the bed watching your every move. Your wrists bound to the head board. A vibrator stuffed in between your legs at high volume. Your moans filling the room along with the buzzing of the vibrator.

“What’s that sweetheart?”

Your attitude towards him had gotten on his last nerve, and now he was punishing you. The punishment was not being able to cum. Which was kind of your fault, but still he didn't have push you like this.

"Joel fuck please I'm sorry." You whined tugging at the restraints.

“I don’t know if I believe you.” Clicking his tongue.

“God Joel please I’m begging you.”

He wasn't breaking though. That man was determined to not give in, and stay strong not letting you release.

"No. I let you cum so many times the other night but that wasn't good enough." His voice stern and rough.

Joel overheard you talking to Tommy of all people about your sex life. Confessing to his brother that he only lets you orgasm once or twice, and that it wasn’t enough for you. That you wanted more from him, and he wasn’t exactly satisfying you.

Of course Joel was furious about this, but then came up with his own plan to get back at you. Instead of fighting or arguing with you he would do things his own way. Then you would learn to appreciate how many times he lets your orgasm.

“You look so fucking good like this baby.” His eyes drifting up and down your body.

Your head back against the pillow desperate to cum. Legs shaking with need, and arms becoming tired from being held up for what felt like hours. Your juices probably soaking the vibrator. He just continued to watch and stare at you.

The vibrator was buzzing inside of your pussy, making the most filthiest of noises. It made your cheeks heat up, but turned you on even more at the same time. Your walls welcoming it and refusing to let it go.

"Fuck if only you could see yourself." He groaned as his eyes looked your trembling body up and down.

As if that wasn't torture enough he decided to thrust the vibrator inside of you. Moving it slowly in and out of you not plunging it deeply enough. Your screams not echoing throughout the room. Your back now arching off the bed.

"Fuck." You squealed your body gyrating with the toy.

Your pussy clenching around the toy trying to make yourself cum. Moving your hips along his movements hoping to get a better angle. Your sweet release so close, but yet so far away from you.

When Joel saw what you were doing he stopped thrusting the toy inside of you making you groan. He just smirked at your shaking and sweaty body writhing on the bed. Joel was tempted to give in, but he was enjoying this too much.

“Not so fast sweetheart. Think your so clever don’t ya?”

Looking at him your saw he was trying to restrain himself. His pants were forming a tent and his body language screamed lust and desire. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

All he wanted was to ravish your sweaty body that was begging for him. He had to remember that this was your punishment.

Your mind was swirling with all type of feelings and thoughts. You tried imagining it was Joel’s cock inside you. Remember the feeling of how good it felt when he was pounding into you. Your thighs clenching at the memory of everytime he would fuck you into oblivion.

Your legs bending hoping maybe you could move the toy on your own. Joel could tell what you were attempting to do this time, and placed his hands on your legs keeping them flat. It wasn't enough and you wanted more and he knew that.

"Do you want to cum baby?" His tone mocking but you couldn't help but nod tears pricking at your eyes.

You were so desperate to have that familiar feeling over take you. Whimpering and whining like a desperate animal, but all Joel did was smirk at how pathetic you looked.

"Do you wanna cum baby?" He teased you as he pushed the vibrator deep inside of you keeping it there making you squeal. "Bet your squeezing this toy so tightly."

Unable to form words to speak you just kept nodding your head pleading with him. Without saying a word he walked over to the right side of the bed.

His hand reached down, and you thought he was going back to thrust the vibrator inside of you. Closing your eyes as you waited for the feeling to happen, but instead nothing happened.

Instead his fingers attached themselves to the little bundle of nerves that was aching. Rubbing figure eights which caused your body to twitch. Closing your legs on instinct as his hands pushed them wide open.

“Ugh uh baby keep those legs open for me like a good girl.”

Your stomach was tightening with how close you were getting to orgasm. The sweat was just beading on your forehead. Feeling your legs start to slowly shake at the sudden overly sensitive stimulation.

"Joel please fuck. I need to cum." Your voice shaky and desperate to cum.

Tears were running down your cheek unable to take anymore of this teasing. He just had this shit eating grin on his face. A lump forming in your throat as you tried to swallow the saliva in your mouth.

Not saying anything his hand gripping the vibrator and thrusted it into harder this time. Toes curling against the sheets, and your hands gripping onto the restraints feeling yourself get on edge.

“Let it all go baby. That’s a good girl just like that.”

Your head leaning far back against the pillow, and closing your eyes relinquishing in the feeling. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. It was the best feeling in the world right now to you.

A couple more thrusts and you felt yourself squeezing the vibrator drenching it in your fluids. Your body tired from the sexual torture Joel had put your through. Your chest heaving up and down trying to catch your breath.

"Maybe this will teach you to appreciate how many times I let you cum." He whispered into your ear giving your neck soothing kisses before taking the restraints off.

[kalims]

presenting them a failed dish | all

summary. you present them a failed dish (you of which they just happen to like very much.) question is, are they gonna be biased or brutally honest despite all that? 

content. alignment, all characters

featuring. all nrc students, gender neutral

wc. mentions of death (comical)

though not all the judges seated are all privileged with a good nose like the merman, nor a good set of ears like the fae, not even the combination of both from the beastmen.. all of them could smell the seeming scent of something burning? they know because they can see the gray smoke clouding above their heads.

… but they could all collectively feel the looming sense of something ominous inside that kitchen.

they all exchange nervous looks. the previous contestant called lilia's dish already made them lose their appetite. they're pretty sure that this next meal would finish them off and send them to the next universe.

the door opens and the smoke comically flows out. ironically enough you emit a ray of sunshine, as though you are immensely proud by your achievement as you hold the tray of what seems to be the eye of the storm.

"it's ready." despite the very clear aura of death behind you, and in your hands. you smile brightly and they actually pause to sweat a little.

oh god. is it normal for the smoke to form into a skull before disappearing completely..? they swear they just saw a bouquet of spider lilies behind you.

for once they quip back a comment in favor of you keeping that hopeful grin. they don't have the heart to shatter it right now when they're probably seconds away from death.

at least once they die, you're happy…

"so.. what's this supposed to be?" midst their stunned silence one of the student asks.

you answer in a quip. "an omelet." and they almost fall over. that smell is supposed to be an omelet?

you happily take off the lid and his jaw drops, at the smell alone.. is that even a dish? that's just burnt ash!

"I hope you enjoy the meal~"

"... I will."

the ones pretending that everything is okay even though it's most definitely not. he can physically feel the smoke tickling the base of his jaw and he's starting to regret picking up the spoon for a bite in your expense. surely it isn't too bad?

wrong. everything is bad. he just saw god, he isn't sure if it's worth swallowing the monstrosity just so you won't be disheartened by his reaction. he's so down bad for you

deuce, trey, azul, idia, jack, ruggie (kind of, it's free so) silver

"..."

the ones who are in fact, not pretending that everything's okay because it isn't!! what in the seven's name did you do, and use in that kitchen to create this absolute piece of garbage—the mistake of the century! do you really think they'd eat… that for you?

okay so maybe your offended look may have swayed him and he's reluctantly pushing a small portion of it in his mouth. aaaaand. he's out.

ace, sebek, epel, jamil, leona

"are you sure this can be eaten?"

the nervous ones that are constantly asking if it's fine and what in the hell you put in this thing for it to come out like that! you described the use of the ingredients perfectly! but why does it look so… bad? was your plating the problem?

but they never judge a book by its cover so… bon appétit… that's what he was thinking just about two hours ago. oops.

cater, riddle, ruggie, silver

flat out refuses to eat. it's not him… it's you 🥺 get that musty ass dish out of his face this instant! all you need is a wake up call instead of these stupid incompetent judges who are hell bent on being biased af!!

he'll drag you in the kitchen himself. you will not leave until you've made a dish that looks decent enough to eat, and definitely lives up to it's visual.

vil, jamil, leona, sebek, ace

* u hear that? he's already finished his fill lol *

the ones who for real needs to go to a mental hospital cause he doesn't even question anything about your dish, grabs a knife, spoon, fork, whatever he needed, pokes it once before slicing a piece off (but can you slice dust??) and popping in their mouth casually. 

you can't even tell if it tastes bad or not cause their face didn't even twitch. you've got an inkling that there was a glimmer of tears but he blinked them away for your sake. (but he's definitely never gonna try it ever again)

malleus, jade, lilia, silver

also finishes his fill but is eating in a very clearly more energetic, and enthusiastic way. this can go to ways. they either chew on it twice, pause then inevitably pass out for a few hours.

or they finish it and pass out for the whole day. eh whatever, they like you a lot so they'd probably keep eating em' anyways.

floyd, rook, deuce, ruggie (kind of, once again) kalim

shit cooking besties let's go!! he now thinks that you're a god in cooking cause he tasted it, and was sent to heaven instantly. which is also kind of suspicious cause it looked like it grew sentient and crawled out of hell

lilia

GENUINELY ENJOYS IT?? they're just humming a tune while savoring the dish slowly..

ortho, grim, rook

immediately suspicious and thinks that it's littered with poison or something. they think it's absolutely genius that they even noticed it. it's come so bad to the point where they had to get another replacement judge cause they kept criticizing YOU instead of your food.

who else? sebek

sorry I had to make a separate one for this man. at this point all of diasomnia has separate parts lol

let's say, the dish was just presented. without the chef so he just stares at it in interest. silently wondering who'd dare to serve him such an… unruly dish. seriously… even the villagers make better food than this.

he doesn't even bother to eat till you step out and ask how it was.

bro when did he finish it all??? WHY IS HE EATING THE PLATE???? "I'm absolutely famished. may I ask for seconds?"

malleus ( bro switching up in 2 seconds maximum, what a simp loool )

commissioned piece, not pr

[breadbrobin]

the bet

part three

cedric diggory x reader — harry potter

[fem!best friend reader]

summary: for once, losing a bet might be a good thing.

warnings: kissing, quite a lot of swearing, betting/gambling, mentions of underage drinking, minor suggestive content, GOD they’re so in love it’s stupid, i think i’m a comedian (i’m not), switched from an x oc story so might have a few mistakes oops, mediocre writing (again i wrote this years ago and this is the worst part i think)

word count: 1.7k

(let’s not talk ab how long it took me to put this up and instead i’ll tell you about how i went away with my friends and may or may not have completely forgotten about this lil series oopssss anyways this is the last part and it’s my favourite i love it so muchhhh enjoy 😘)

part one

part two

——————————————

The Rainy Days

Neither you or Cedric had brought up what he’d said that night, but it hung in the air between you, stagnant and stiff, leaving awkwardness to rest in the growing distance.

It was odd, you realised. One moment, you were closer than ever before, hugging for a second too long, soft touches as hands brushed, then the next, you were sitting at opposite ends of a metaphorical couch, shooting furtive glances at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking.

It was confusing, and you were conflicted.

You almost wanted to bring it up. You knew he remembered, that much was clear. It was obvious in the subtlest of looks, the gentlest of touches, the softest of smiles. But sometimes, it would leap to the forefront of his mind and, cheeks red, eyes downcast, he would retreat into himself.

And so, neither you or Cedric brought it up.

No matter how much you may have wanted to.

The days passed in almost comfortable normalcy.

There were no trips to the lake or the town, just sitting and enjoying each other’s company.

You and Cordelia taught him how to play Last Card on a thundery Tuesday, all pouting out the window at the storm.

“I hate thunder,” Cedric shuddered. “It’s the worst to play Quidditch in too.”

“I don’t think it’s safe to play in thunder,” you huffed, collecting the cards after he won again. “I mean, lightning strikes the highest object, right? And look what happened to Harry last season.”

“Yeah, that was horrible,” he cringed, taking the cards from her and shuffling them. “Although that was the Dementors too.”

You pulled a face. “Still not an excuse. It really isn’t safe.”

Cordelia looked between you in confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You remember Quidditch, right?” Cedric asked. “On the broomsticks.”

She nodded slowly. “Did you know that witches riding broomsticks used to be a euphemism for riding the devil’s—”

“—Oh-kay, that’s enough cards for today!” You cut in. “Cords, why don’t you go grab a board game, yeah?”

“Okay!” she chirped, dancing off upstairs.

You breathed a sigh of relief and slumped in your chair.

Cedric shot you an amused look.

“Shut up,” you muttered.

When you saw a person running towards your house without an umbrella in the pouring rain, you assumed they were an idiot.

Then the figure got closer and you realised that it was your idiot.

“God, Cedric, you dipshit,” you whispered, dropping the knife you was using to butter your toast on the bench and running to the door, grabbing a towel from a clean pile on the way.

You opened the door just as he reached the front steps, having to grip onto the handle tight so that the wind didn’t rip it from its hinges.

“What are you doing?” you asked over the downpour, letting him inside and handing him the towel.

“I swear it didn’t start raining until I was halfway here.” His teeth were chattering. “Gotta love English weather.”

You shook your head in defeat. “Shut up and go take a hot shower. I’ll bring you something to wear.”

He didn’t even move to object, shuffling towards the bathroom instantly.

You left a bundle of warm clothes outside the door and sat on the couch with your toast to wait.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone with your thoughts for very long.

Cedric padded into the room with his hair wet and messy and in a hoodie and sweatpants that he’d left at your house a few weeks before. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Are you okay?” you handed him a blanket and a piece of warm toast as he sat down next to you.

He nodded. He looked significantly less cold than before. “Merlin, the last time I was this cold was when you pushed me into the Black Lake.”

“I didn’t push you, you slipped.”

“Yeah, right,” he huddled closer to you, making her tense up briefly. The last time you were this close on the couch…

“Hey, Y/N…” he said quietly after a few beats.

“Hm?”

“About that night—”

“It’s okay, we don’t have to—”

“No, I think we should—”

“Cedric,” you said firmly. “Don’t worry about it. We were drunk. It’s okay.”

He paused, studying you like he was committing all of your features to memory. You knew you were doing that for him. “Okay.”

You sat in silence, watching the rain stream down the window.

The Confession

You had a confession to make.

First, to yourself: you liked Cedric—No. You were in love with Cedric.

It was the way he said your name like it was made of porcelain, fragile, delicate. It was the way your bodies fit perfectly together when you hugged, your bodies and hands made for holding each other. It was the way he looked at you, that night and every day since; like you’d hung the moon and the stars in the sky. It was the way he made you feel safe.

Was that so difficult?

Yes, a nagging voice in the back of your mind muttered. You’re going to be twenty galleons more broke because of your stupid feelings.

Maybe, you countered it. But I don’t even care anymore.

Your next confession would be to Cedric. That was slightly more difficult.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have the opportunity; you were almost always at each other’s houses. It was more to do with the issue of you being too scared. You shied away from admitting it every time you thought you were ready, pushing your feelings down and down until they were compressed under a pile of anxiety.

So, the confession was going well. Really well.

You stole another glance at him across the room, peering over your book to find him already staring at you. You withheld a squeak and looked back down, sinking lower into your end of the couch.

“Alright, what is it?” he asked, slipping a bookmark between the pages and setting his book on the end table.

“What is what?” You didn’t take her eyes off your book, pretending to read with your eyes locked on one phrase: ‘I love you.’

Is it that easy? You asked yourself. I just say it?

Cedric leaned forward and pushed your book down. “Well, either that page is very interesting or you suddenly can’t read, because you haven’t turned the page in about twenty minutes.”

“I’m absorbing it properly,” you lifted it back up but he pushed it down again.

“Absorbing it, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Well, my other thought was that you were so distracted staring at me every five seconds that you forgot to actually read.”

You dropped your book, struggling to catch it and sending it careening onto the floor. Your eyes were wide as you stared at him. “No.”

He was smiling, that soft, almost smug smile that you’d fallen in love with. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Uh-huh, because from here, it looked like you were staring at me.”

You sat up straight. “Really? How odd.”

“Hmm…” he smiled a bit brighter. God, you wanted to kiss him. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

You breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as he leaned back.

“Shame, because I was actually quite flattered.”

“Oh, I bet you were,” you scoffed.

He leaned back into the couch, opening his book agonisingly slow.

You stared at him, legs crossed and brows furrowed. Your head was swirling with thoughts, all repeating, Cedric, Cedric, Cedric. You’d never wanted to kiss someone so bad, to just hold someone. You’d never, ever in your life, wanted to lose a bet.

His grey eyes flickered up to you once, then twice, then again. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, what the fuck,” you muttered, pushing yourself forward and pressing your lips to his.

He dropped his book, the hardback thudding dully on the floor right next to yours, but neither of you cared. His hands found their place on your waist as you leaned over him, one arm supporting you on the wall behind him, the other entangled in his brown hair.

Butterflies danced in your stomach, your heart racing wildly as your lips melded together. It was like they were made to kiss each other; the way they fit so perfectly, the curve of your cheek and the straight line of his nose. All of your swirling thoughts subsided, leaving only one: Cedric.

God, you never wanted to stop kissing him. He was like sugar; tantalising, sweet, addictive.

He pulled away first, thumb digging subtly into your hip, lips parted and gasping for air. “Y/N…”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, unable to find your voice. “But I couldn’t wait another—”

He kissed you again, more passionate; noses knocking, hearts pounding, hair standing on end. You wondered how you got so lucky. God, you were lucky.

This kiss was more intense, all those weeks of pent up emotion, released in that moment.

You never wanted it to end.

But, as your lungs gasped for air and your head began to swim, you pulled away. He chased your lips, pressing a final, sweet kiss to them, before resting his head back again.

“Never apologise for that,” he breathed. “Never.”

“Got it,” you whispered, eyes tracing a pattern in his faint freckles. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“Amazing at kissing?” he tilted his head.

“Just amazing in general.” You kissed him again. And if you stayed on that couch all afternoon? Well that was no one’s business but your own.

The Pay-Up

You had twenty galleons ready the second you set foot on the Hogwarts Train only a few weeks later. Cedric was holding your free hand as you wove past loitering students and nervous first years until you found Lizzie and Camila.

“Hey, Morgan, Cedric,” Lizzie raised her eyebrow at you.

Camila saw your connected hands and started prodding her arm.

“Hey, guys,” you smiled brightly. “Just paying up.”

You tossed Lizzie the bag of galleons and turned to Camila. “Sorry, I made the first move.”

“Liar,” she pointed at you. “Cedric, please tell me she’s lying.”

“Nope,” he let your hand go and wrapped it around your waist instead. “She kissed me first.”

Camila groaned, digging through her bag. “Fuck.”

As Lizzie danced in victory and Camila complained about you finding your balls, you had to admit, you had never been happier to lose a bet.

cedric taglist:

@sunburnhurts

[lucifersgirl]

Difficult Days

Okay so I’ve had this thought for a while. I’ve fallen so hard for this man I swear to god! Anyway, enjoy loves! Have a scrumptious week!

TW: Self harm

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Lucifer had been acting weird lately. He had been excusing himself from rooms awkwardly. He had been avoiding the paperwork on his desk for weeks. But the weirdest thing of all was that he was distancing himself from you. Was he scared of you? Was he angry at you? You didn’t know, but you were concerned. You knew he had been dealing with depression and anxiety for years now, but you didn’t know how harsh it really was.

When you walked into your shared bedroom, you heard soft crying coming from the bathroom. “Lucifer?” You knocked on the door. “Honey, are you okay?”

“Fine, baby. Just f-fine…” Lucifer stumbled over his words.

“Can I come in, sweetheart?” When no reply answered you, you got scared. “I’m coming in, okay?” You pushed open the door delicately, giving Lucifer time to shut it if he wanted to. When he didn’t push back at all, you opened the door all the way. The sight before you was absolutely terrible and your heart ached for him.

Lucifer was sitting on the floor in nothing but his boxers. He had a bloody knife in his hand and his golden blood was all over his arms and the floor. Tears were streaming down his face and his hair was sticking out in all directions. He was looking at the floor, hiding his face from your gaze. His quiet whimpers and snivels broke the silence you were both in.

“Oh, Luci…” you whispered, slowly sinking to your knees and crawling towards him. You offered a sad smile. “Give me the knife?”

Lucifer nodded and did as you said, sliding it across the floor. He looked at you solemnly before turning away quickly, hiding his face again.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s alright now. I’m here,” you gently took his hand and kissed it lovingly, “I’m right here.”

Without warning, Lucifer launched himself into your arms. He buried his face in your chest and gripped your shirt with such force you thought he might tear it off. He cried his heart out, shaking uncontrollably as his breathing picked up and his head pounded.

You patted Lucifer’s head and stroked his back, offering reassurances and encouragement. “It’s alright now, sweetie, it’s alright. Just let it out, baby. That’s it, honey, there you go. It’s okay, my love, it’s okay,” you continued, holding him close and rubbing his scalp, which was something he always enjoyed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“H-had a m-meeting with Heaven a-and they y-yelled at m-me and said th-that I-I was the r-reason people w-were so t-terrible b-but I was j-just doing what I th-thought was b-best f-for everyone b-but they don’t care b-because they don’t l-like m-me but I’m trying my b-be-est!” He bawled his eyes out into your chest, feeling a whole mix of emotions. Tears streamed down his face and his whole body felt weak.

“Oh, honey,” you said as you kissed his head lovingly. “ I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That must have really hurt you, huh? It’s okay now. Shh, baby, it’s okay. Just hold on, sweetie, it’s okay. Shh, shh. It’s alright, Luci, it’s alright. You’re safe now, baby, you’re safe. Shh, you’re safe.”

Lucifer sobbed into your chest, crying out in both pain and grief. “Oh~…” he groaned when he glanced at what he had done to himself.

“Why don’t I help you get cleaned up, Luci? Hmm? Would that be okay?” You always asked for his consent, even in times like these.

Lucifer nodded slowly, still bawling into your shirt. He wrapped his legs around your waist so you could get a better view of his cuts. “I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he apologized in between distraught wails. “I-I just-AH!” He hissed as an alcohol wipe came in contact with his open wounds. “Ow!” He cried out, gripping your shirt even tighter than before.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” you whispered softly into his hair. “It’ll be over soon baby, okay? I promise,” you rubbed his back before continuing your actions.

Lucifer yelped as he once again felt the cool wipe sting his skin. “H-hurts!” He shrieked, trying to pull his arm out of your reach. “N-no more! P-please no m-more!”

“Honey,” you halted again, “I have to clean you up. I know it hurts, baby, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, sweetie, I really don’t. But this is the only way I can clean you up and make sure that your wounds don’t get infected. Okay?” You kissed the top of Lucifer’s head and toyed with the ends of his messy hair. You pinched his neck gently, relaxing him.

Lucifer leaned into your touch, wanting to be enveloped in your warm embrace for the rest of eternity. “Okay,” he whispered as he placed his head in your shoulder, draping his one arm over your shoulder and the other on your waist. “Okay.”

“May I continue?” You asked sweetly, making sure Lucifer was ready. When he nodded again, you gently pressed the wipe onto his cuts. He hissed again, but you didn’t pull away, almost done with cleaning his angelic blood off of him. When you were finally finished, you threw the alcohol wipe into the garbage can in the corner of the room. You then grabbed bandages from the sink cabinet and opened a pack. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Lucifer replied, still clutching your shirt as pain overwhelmed his body. He felt weak and tired, unable to stand up or walk or really do anything.

You never rushed him, always asking if he was alright throughout the process. Lucifer only nodded, still weeping into your shoulder as you rubbed his back and bandaged his arms. When you had finished, you threw the remaining amount of bandages into the kitchen cabinet. “How about I carry you to bed, hm? Would that be okay?”

Lucifer pulled back from your embrace and raised an eyebrow at you. “B-but the floor…?”

“I’ll come back in here and clean it up, okay? You don’t have to worry about a single thing,” you pressed your finger to his nose and kissed his forehead.

Lucifer smiled weakly and held onto you tighter. His heels dug into the middle of your back and his hands went to your shoulders. His head leaned on your shoulder as well. He swore he could have fallen asleep right then and there if you hadn’t started moving.

You picked up Lucifer’s limp body with ease. “It’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” you whispered into his hair. You opened the door with one hand, still giving Lucifer plenty of support. You carried him to the bed, whispering in his hair on the way there. When you reached the bed, you pulled the covers back and placed Lucifer down gently. You pulled the covers over his body and kissed his forehead before walking back into the bathroom to clean the floor. You got rags and towels from the cabinet and started to clean up. However, the mess suddenly disappeared.

“I cleaned it for you, honey. Can you come back now? Please?” Lucifer called from the bed in the other room.

You sighed as you put the supplies back in the cabinet. You turned off the lights in the bathroom and closed the door behind you. Your eyes flicked over to the bed and you saw Lucifer staring right back at you. You smiled at him before asking, “Would you like a duck to cuddle with?”

Lucifer’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “Y-Yes, please,” he replied almost immediately.

You laughed softly. “Which one?” You walked over to a dresser in the corner of the room dedicated to Lucifer’s most special rubber ducks.

“The one that does backflips and spits fire! Please,” he added.

You giggled as you searched for the rubber duck. It didn’t take too long to find it, as it was on the top of the dresser. Once you found it, you brought it over to Lucifer. “This one?”

“Mhm!” Lucifer reached for it, excitement in his voice.

You handed it to him and he smiled up at you. You smiled back and kissed his cheek before getting into the bed yourself. You rubbed his back and tilted your head against his.

Lucifer rolled over onto you and snuggled into you. He hugged the duck close to his chest and leaned into your body. “Thank you,” he smiled up at you. He gently kissed your lips before laying his face back down in its position. “I love you,” he whispered into your shirt.

You chuckled lightly and pecked his forehead once more. “I love you, too, Luci,” you replied in a soft voice. “More than anything.”

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IM BACK BABYYY! WOO! Sorry it took me so long to come back, y’all. I had a lot of family issues going on, but I’m here now and I’m ready to write for this cute little duck man again! :)

[jxckchxmpi0n]

hey love, congratulations on 200!

i was wondering if you could do ethan landry with the prompt (please tell me that at least a part of it was real) some good old ghostface angst!

GOOD OLD GF ANGST! 🕸🔪 Thank you, love! I hope you enjoyed this! 🌼

Damaged Soul

Summary: Your boyfriend of almost a year isn't who he says he is. He's a killer, and he killed your love and your trust. | m.list

Word count: 1.1k

Warning: ANGST ANGST ANGST 😈. swearing, blood, character death, lying, cursing, (i want to say that's everything)

did not proof read.

also I'm making it through all the requests plus the new ones! AhHh

your heart sank as you watched Ethan take the Ghostface mask off, tears filling your eyes as they locked with his. Tara looked at you worried, "Never trust the love interest, right?" he had an evil grin on his face like he was proud he played you.

Bailey grabbed Ethan's shoulder and started talking about how proud he was of him for using you like Richie had done to Sam last year. "They grow up so fast don't they." your body felt frozen in time as you looked at Ethan, questioning everything in existence now.

Sam kept yelling at Bailey asking why they were doing this, Tara stood holding herself as she felt herself bleeding out.

You haven't been injured yet as bad as the sisters, and something was telling you it was about to get worse. Ethan and Quinn were now circling around you three while bailey gave his big speech.

"Ethan, why?" your voice was broken and cracking. Your body turned with his following his as he walked around.

"Don't you see y/n I needed excuses, econ wasn't always going to work, but being with you oo you knew. you knew what I was up to, yet you ignored it. All the late nights coming back to the apartment, y/n you were just an object to me. Nothing more, but God you know I will miss the sex." he shook the knife in your face as he got closer.

"I didn't know" You stepped back as he got closer, tears falling from your eyes. your back hit the wall. Bailey and Quinn were too busy with Sam and Tara. Letting Ethan have you to himself, "I didn't know!" you screamed in his face causing him to jump a little.

He lunged forward, his hand wrapping around your neck while the knife cut into your cheekbone. "It doesn't matter anymore sweetheart; did you know you weren't even part of the plan? hm? now, but Quinn you see Quinn came up with the idea of getting with you, seeing at how much you gave me heart eyes she knew it was a good idea."

"You're a monster!" your voice was broken, shattered even. your body ached as his hold tightened on you.

"No! I'm not the monster, Sam is okay she killed Richie she's the one that ruined our lives, if anything she ruined your life too" his eyes were glossy as he talked about his brother.

"She killed him in defense, while you have killed- three people" pushing yourself against the knife you felt it cut deeper into your face. You could feel the warmth of your blood running down your face, Ethan's eyebrows drew together as he noticed a change in you.

You were beyond angry now the fact that he used you, and yet deep down you knew you knew something was up, and yes Ethan was right you ignored it. but you can't anymore.

"You used me, Ethan, you killed people, if anything you ruined my life. You made me fall in love with you, you used my body, I trusted you with everything, and you stand here in front of me and you're telling me you aren't the monster?!"

You didn't need a weapon to scare him, you saw the fear he had in his eyes when he took the mask off. Seeing the look on your face when he realizes what he has done, he knows that you know he loves you and that behind closed doors he wanted this all to end.

He slowly stepped back as you stepped forward his hand loosed on you and the knife. you were getting inside his head. "I hate you; I hate you and I want you to fail, I want you and your whole family to die."

"Y/n I-I had no choice it was my father's plan" his eyes were getting watery by the second. your hands balled up into fists.

"Fuck you!" you punched him in the face causing him to fly back, dropping the knife. Baily was chasing Sam on the stage while Quinn cornered Tara.

"You fucking dumbass Ethan get the fuck up" Quinn shouted at Ethan as she saw him on the floor. You took the chance to run to Tara, she had a stab wound in her abdomen and on her arm. She had it worse than you.

"Y/n you have to get out of here, find help" Tara tried to push you away but failed. The sound of screaming and shouting filled the auditorium as Sam was fighting Bailey.

"God as much as I hate you killing you is going to be so fun" Quinn was behind you waving her knife, and you pushed Tara away motioning her to go help her sister.

Ethan was standing behind his sister watching as she was getting closer. "No Quinn, she's mine let me have her" she looked back at her brother seeing the way he was looking at you. Not only did he have the look to kill you, but he also still has lust written all over his face.

"You've got to be kidding me, you can't really have feelings for this bitch," Ethan was trying to justify that he never had feelings for you. Looking around you saw broken glass, picking it up took the shard, and stabbed Quinn in the back. she screamed out in pain; Ethan ran forward and without thinking he pulled you off of her.

Taking the Kinfe Quinn he pulled his arm back, the sharp end meeting with your stomach. You screamed right into his ear, his heart breaking as he felt your blood pouring onto his hand. "Do it Ethan" Quinn watched holding her side as he twisted the knife and pulled it up creating a deeper cut. "I'm sorry y/n I'm so sorry" he held your body close as you couldn't even make any noise from the pain.

"Please tell me at least some of it was real?" your face was ghostly white, your cheeks stained with tears and blood. Your body is already feeling so weak, you weren't going to make it but

"Yes, it was, y/n it was real, and I-I love you. I always will love you" Tears were streaming down his face as he felt your body go limp. He had just killed the one person that ever understood him. He shouldn't have done it; he shouldn't have done any of it. he set you down looking at your face. You looked nothing like you did when he was with you at nighttime.

"Ethan let her go, dad needs us" Quinn pushed him with her foot causing him to lean closer to you. He wiped his tears, got up and followed his sister.