#yeah no my heart is racing and my lungs are burning but again. hard to know the difference

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

"descended into madness" um actually i climbed here? yeah it was a pretty steep journey. yeah the air's pretty thin up here. i think im getting altitude sickness. pretty dizzy actually

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Companion (unofficial) ficlet to this masterpiece! Many thanks to @rustingcat for both creating the art and accepting my own humble offering.

Lena runs. She runs and runs and runs. She runs until her lungs burn and her bare feet are torn and bleeding from the detritus of the forest floor, and then keeps running.

She can't tell if he's following on her trail, or how close he may be. She can't hear anything but the thundering of her heart and the desperate, ragged rasping of her breath.

If she stops, she knows she'll feel the pulsing pain of the swelling bruises on her face. She'll feel the sharp stabbing pain of her broken wrist. Whoever he was, he hadn't been gentle with her when she'd resisted and pulled away from him. Something in his eyes had been sharp and hateful-- a glint that had promised when he was done, when he catches her, she wouldn't live to tell the tale.

So she runs. As fast and as far as she can.

Then she trips, her feet tangling in a mess of roots and weeds. She sprawls hard and undignified, chin scraping the ground with enough force to make her teeth rattle in her head. The fall knocks the breath from her, and she wheezes, flat on her stomach, until she can force air back into her lungs.

She's no longer among the trees. The world is lightening with the imminent twilight of morning, allowing her to see the woods have ended and that she'd somehow, some way, emerged at the side of the road.

Painfully rolling to one side, Lena tries to push back to her feet-- only to collapse to one knee as her left ankle gives out. Agony races from her toes to her knee, a blaze of fire that doubles when she tries again.

"Shit," she sobs, fear and despair chasing at her now immobile heels. "Shit, shit shit!"

"Lena?"

The voice sounds distant, then very very close.

"LENA!"

Then Kara, Supergirl, is there in front of her. In an instant, the panic dims, blanketed to silence as the weight of a hero's cape settles around her shoulders. Against the backdrop of a pinkening sky, Kara's pinched, worried features jar against the exhaustion that now tugs at Lena.

"Are you okay?" Kara asks frantically. Her words words tremble, and even her breaths seem to shake in her chest.

Doesn't she know that with her, Lena will always be safe?

Lena nods. "Yeah. I am now."

[moonlightazriel]

Son of the Darkness XXI /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Hidden for so long The court of shadows thrived, and things were great until the high lord's death, now the next in line should assume the crown of high lord of shadows, will he accept his duties?

Warnings: More war…. Yeah I’m sorry

Word Count: 1,6K

Notes: THE WAR IS FINALLY OVER! I couldn’t write more of this I was getting crazy. And I’m sorry to say that the last chapter comes out on Sunday 😭

Son of the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Her heart hammered against her rib cage, so hard that it was almost knocking out the air from her lungs. Her eyes were fixed on Azriel, her head felt dizzy, and she began to feel overwhelmed by her surroundings and the feelings flooding her chest like a wave.

“WATCH OUT!” Someone yelled, bringing her back to the reality, she barely had time to move, the side of the enemy’s sword hitting her, making it even hard to breath, she lifted her sword, shoving it in the male’s skull as she tried to focus again, she didn’t have the time to think about it.

“Are you okay?” Someone asked and she looked up, seeing the orange colours of the autumn court armour, Eris seemed concerned behind his helmet, his hands were on her shoulders but his gaze was fixed on something else. “Get down!” He ordered and she did, he raised his hand, and she felt the warm atmosphere as he burned the man behind her, the screams and the smoke filled her senses.

“I just need to breathe.” She said in between gasps for air. Her chest felt tight and she felt herself dangerously nearing a panic attack.

“Then do it, I’ll cover you.” Eris said, her hands removed her helmet as she took a deep breath, the fresh breeze hit her face and she exhaled. The sound of the battle kept around her, but she could only focus on the thread on her chest, made of darkness, that connected her to her High Lord as long as they lived, the perfect match made by the Mother herself.

Her mind was racing for many reasons, but one question was burning brighter in her brain, daring to be asked, begging to be asked. Did Azriel know about the bond that sang along her soul, claiming for him?

A flicker of wings sounded and she looked up, seeing Azriel landing in front of her, concern filled her chest as he approached her searching for any injuries. He removed his own helmet.

“Are you hurt?” His voice was raspy from all the effort. Y/N didn’t answer, her heart was beating fast as she reached for the truth-teller, she knew what she wanted to do. The thoughts were racing in her mind, the fear of impending death lingered in the air, if she was to die, she would die letting him know that she loved him and that she accepted him fully.

She pulled the dagger from the holster, sliding it in her own palm, cutting it open, Azriel watched in shock as she grabbed his hand, doing the same. She held his hand, their blood mixing together.

“In our court, the bonds are only completely accepted with blood.” She held their hand up, fingers laced together. “You are my blood, my heart and my soul, and I am your blood, your heart, your soul, for eternity.”

Azriel couldn’t say anything as the bond in his chest shone with life, the love filling his heart so pure he couldn’t believe, she had accepted the bond, they were one from now until the day they died. He leaned his head down, kissing her tenderly, this was everything he could wish for.

“I love you!” He said and he rested his forehead against hers. But she was quickly to part away from him when she saw Eris defend another death blow that was meant for them, she shoved everything aside, closing her end of the bond, her helmet in her head, and her sword tight in her hands, she got ready to go back to battle. Fire and darkness fought side by side as Eris burned people down and she unreleased her magic, the shadows making soldiers fall to their knees, scraping their throats in search for air, and Azriel slashed them with his sword, his syphons glowing as he felt a new wave of energy curse through his body.

The energy consuming him was different from everything he ever felt, like a fresh breath of air was forced into his lungs, it felt like he was seeing everything for the first time, and he enjoyed what he saw. Something else burned ever brighter inside of him, and all he could see and smell it was her. The mating frenzy had started.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N, Azriel and Eris fought as one, killing as many enemies as they could, however all of this didn’t seem enough, their armies kept coming, the battle kept going, more people dying by the second, and nothing seemed to work.

She felt the power being unleashed and saw the huge light creature that left the tent where Feyre should be, where the cauldron should be, something seemed different, wrong.

“Boys.” She touched the males and they turned to her, by the looks on Eris's face, he knew something was wrong, she could feel it too. “We have to go. Now!” The males followed her as she rushed to get to the tent, she felt weak, her magic slowly vanishing from her blood.

When they reached the tent, Y/N was the first to get in, the world seemed normal again, the war was over, the magic that kept the world working was back, she could feel as her blood boiled with the darkness. But she stopped herself, her mouth slacking open as she saw Feyre begging for the other High Lords to save Rhysand, his dead body laying limply on the floor. Azriel entered right after, stopping as he saw Rhys laying on the floor, Y/N turned around, getting in between him and Rhys, he looked at her, his eyes filled with tears as he watched the scene.

Y/N held him, the agony on her chest ten times bigger as his emotions overflowed her, even with both ends closed she could feel his grief, she could feel everything. The smell of flowers and earth filled her nostrils, Evanore had materialised herself in the middle of the room, gently pushing Feyre aside as she kneeled before Rhys.

“Az.” Y/N called, her hands forcing his chin up, forcing him to look at her, she was met with his red watery eyes, the look on his face so broken that she felt her own heart breaking inside her chest, grieving with him, even if she knew what was about to happen. “It’s going to be okay. Just breathe, he’s not dead.” She reassured him. Azriel looked at her confused, but she turned her head to the scene in front of him.

Evanore had cut her palm open, drawing the witches symbol with blood on Rhysand’s breastplate, everyone stood there, not daring to move a muscle as they watched the scene unfold.

“"Al la arbaro ni preĝas, al la naturo ni postulas, bonvolu doni al mi la potencon de la sep, lasu min vidi kaj lasu min diri." (To the forest we pray, to nature we claim, please give me the power of the seven, let me see and let me say.) She said, closing her eyes.

When Evanore opened her eyes again, everything was dark, there wasn’t sky or floor, it felt like she was floating in the cold veils of death, wandering around, many souls claimed for her, begging her to take them with her, but she couldn’t, at least not yet.

“Rhys! Rhys Kie vi estas?” (Where are you?) She yelled into the endless void. “Vi ne mortos, ankoraŭ ne estas via tempo, vi devas veni kun mi.” (You won't die, it's not your time yet, you have to come with me.) She called his name a few times, until she heard a response, she rushed, running until she found him in a corner, looking like a lost little boy. “Vi venas kun mi.” (You’re coming with me.)

They heard her, but the only thing they could understand was that she was calling Rhys. She was one of the Seven, she could do it, Y/N knew that. She placed her palms on his chest, calling his name, one, two, three times, they could feel as they crossed the veil between the living and the dead, Rhysand’s eyes flashed open and he gasped for air. Evanore had just brought him back from the dead.

It felt like everyone collectively breathed again, Feyre was sobbing on top of his chest, while Rhysand held Amren’s hand, she was shaking and wet from the cauldron. Azriel breathed with relief, and all those overwhelming feelings were quickly turning into the burning passion again, his brother was fine and the war had ended.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Two days later and Azriel was almost going insane, his hands were shaking and his whole body was sweating, energy zipped through him, and he was snappier than he ever was. Two days after Y/N accepted the bond, all he wanted to do was scoop her in his arms and take her somewhere to be alone.

The witches have been healing, bringing people back, and the armies have dissipated, slowly marching towards their homes. He left their tent, going to look for her, he couldn’t control himself anymore. Taking steady breaths, he felt his blood boil when she found her next to Eris, the two chatting.

She handed him a wine jug, slowly inclining towards him and whispering in his ear, “To solve all of your problems.” His shadows have heard, which problems he had that she could fix? And then he understood, this is how she would fulfill her part on their bargain, that would kill Beron. Anyone could poison a wine, no one would ever know how it got there and who was responsible.

Eris pulled his mate for a hug, that’s when he lost it, marching towards them and pulling her with Jonny the waist, abruptly parting the hug. He threw her over her shoulder while she gasped in shock. Cassian and Rhysand shared a knowing look as they saw his brother winnow away with her in his arms.

To finally consume the mating bond.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @allison-rosewood-maximoff @devilsfoodcake22 @fieldofdaisiies @valeridarkness @brekkershadowsinger @margssstuff @patdsinner33 @justdreamstars @dr4g0ngirl

[frogychu]

Antirrhinum Ch. 2

ellie x gn!reader

ch. 2 of 4

other parts: 1 / 3 / 4

words: 2.2k

Hanahaki (花吐き病) ; disease affecting the lungs, proven to be caused by keeping one's true feelings hidden for too long Or Where you and Ellie have been friends for years until she finally slips up, coughing up petals in front of you.

a/n: really putting the slow in slow burn for this one guys and ofc the work will always be cross posted on AO3 here!

Snowflakes swirl around you as you wait for the door to open. The awkwardness of waiting around is starting to make you regret coming to Ellie’s garage in the first place.

It's taking an abnormally long time; did she know it was you? Should you knock again?

Plus its fucking freezing. Maybe this was a mistake.

The lights aren't even on inside, maybe she should be left to sleep if she's that sick.

Ah. Should've brought something for her.

Just as you're overthinking about soup, the lights turn on inside, and the door opens just a crack.

“Joel I told you, i'll be fine, it's just-”

You decide to cut her off before you gain any more knowledge you’re not supposed to. “Uh it's not Joel.”

She stops talking and the door swings open, revealing her dishevelled figure.

You won't lie, she looks absolutely terrible. She has horrible eye bags, seemed to have slept in yesterday's patrol clothes, and is much paler than usual. You're not used to seeing her in such a poor state, and it is quite the sight.

It's making you almost feel bad for bothering her.

She looks at you sheepishly, “Oh, hi.”

Not wanting to make her feel any worse than she already does, you decide to cut to the chase. "Jesse told me you're sick?"

"Oh, uh, not really. I'm fine-"

You swear you're starting to turn blue as you're talking out here, you even start shivering. Ellie cuts herself off as she very obviously takes notice.

"Oh shit, did you want to come inside maybe?" She insists.

"Are you sure? I don't want to intrude, I just wanted to check on you."

She pauses for a long while. Her expression saddens as she closes her eyes and lets out a shaky breath.

"Please."

Oh.

You waste no time grabbing the door handle and letting yourself in, closing it behind you. She's being oddly vulnerable with you, you wouldn't dare give her a hard time now.

It's awkward for a while. She motions at you to sit on the couch, so you do, after taking off your coat. You're watching her pace around slowly like she doesn't know what to do with you.

You're looking around the room, unsure of what to say either. Her room is cute, messy but cozy, it's dimly lit by her fairy lights and lava lamp, just enough to illuminate all of the art she put up above her desk.

One of the drawings catches your attention; it's a portrait of you.

When did she-

She finally spoke up, breaking your train of thought, “Uh hey, do you smoke?”

“Well, yeah, but are you sure we should be doing this while you're sick?”

“I'll be fine.” She answers abruptly, as she walks over to her desk and puts in a random CD into her CD player. ‘Black Hole Sun’ by Soundgarden starts playing quietly in the background.

She quickly walks over to her bed and grabs a small tin from her nightstand, sitting beside you and handing you the tin. You open it and take out a pre-roll, holding it to your mouth and searching for a lighter.

Ellie reaches into her back pocket, “Here.” She reaches over and lights it for you and you can't help but feel your heart race a mile a minute at the closeness.

The smoke invades your lungs as you breathe in, holding it before exhaling and handing the blunt over to Ellie. “You sure we should be doing this indoors?”

She shrugs, “If you want to go outside, be my guest.”

You take the blunt out of her hands as she passes it back to you, “I value my limbs thank you.”

She chuckles in response and you decide to speak up again, “So why did you skip out on patrol then miss ‘not sick’?”

“Didn't feel like going?” She lies.

You're skeptical. “Right…”

“Look, I'll tell you later.”

“You mean you'll tell me when you're high?”

“Yup.” She nods her head.

You laugh at her honesty, “Fair enough.”

Selfishly, you're a little glad she's in a poor state. It's letting the two of you break the ice that accumulated over the years, and you're definitely enjoying this side of her better. Both of you smoke in silence for a while, but there's undoubtedly less tension now, it's comfortable.

That is until she decides to talk again. “We should watch something.”

“Like, a movie?”

“Yeah. I was thinking something like an action movie…” she trails off.

You squint your eyes at her, “You want to watch Curtis And Viper don't you.”

She frowns, “How did you know?”

“It's like, the one thing I know about you, I literally can't forget.” You chuckle.

“Well maybe if we didn't fight all the time, you would know me better.”

Woah?

“I'm sorry, are you blaming me for this? I never meant for things to be this way.”

She gets up in a huff, “If you didn't then why didn't you try to change?”

It's escalating all too quickly, now you're standing too, blunt put out and long forgotten. “This goes both ways you know!”

“Yeah, we're both to blame for this shit friendship!”

You can see the regret in her face as soon as the words come out of her mouth.

“I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to-”

Your eyes get welled with tears, “You think our friendship is shit? Do you even like me? What am I to you?!”

“You're my best friend I-”

“Don't. Just stop.”, you grab your coat, “This was a mistake.”

And just like that, you're storming out the door, with hot and angry tears streaming down your face as you walk back to your house. As soon as you get in the house, you close it behind you and slump to the floor. It's pathetic, but you can't help it.

You knew the two of you would've had to have a talk sooner or later, you just didn't expect it all to blow up in your face. You've never fought with her this badly, you're devastated. You lay on the floor for a while, knees to your chest and only the sounds of the strong wind in the crack of the door keep you company.

Numb is the only word you can use for yourself as you finally get up and make your way up your stairs. Not even bothering to get undressed, you slump into bed early in the morning. Nothing could help process your emotions better than simply not thinking about them at all.

-

You wake up abruptly to the sound of banging at your door. By the time you were awoken by the knocking, it was dark out. You slept through the whole day.

Great.

Nevertheless, as much as you were - somehow - still exhausted, you ran down the stairs to tend to the sleep-disturbing culprit.

The knocking is still loud and persistent. “I'm coming!” you yelled, a little frustrated at this person's determination. You opened the door wide.

It’s Ellie. Ellie who has red eyes and a tear stained face. She's holding something.

Food?

It looks so fucking good, you dont even know what it is but you’re ready to forgive her just with this. You hadn't eaten all day.

She finally gains the courage to speak after letting you stare at her, “I'm sorry. Let's not fight anymore. I shouldn't have said any of that to you it was…stupid”

You want to kiss her, pull her into a tight embrace, hold her face and tell her everything is going to be ok. But you don't, for now.

Baby steps.

“I'm sorry too. I don't want us to be weird. Can we just be friends again? I just…I just want you to like me.” You answer honestly.

She gives you a soft smile of relief, “I do like you, even if I give you a hard time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You can't help but blush at the mention of her liking you, even if you know it's just as a friend. Still, you can't stop wondering what it would be like for her to confess to you like this.

Ellie speaks up again, before your daydreaming gets out of hand, “So, uh, did you want some or…” she motions to the dinner she had brought you.

“Please! Oh my god, I haven't eaten all day, you are a saint.” You thank her as you snatch the plate out of her hands and drag her inside.

She stumbles a little as you're dragging her by her arm. “Woah, hey, you don't even know if it's good or not!”

You stop and turn to look at her, “I literally could not care less right now.”

“Ok but i'm warning you, you've never had my cooking so-”

“Wait, you made this?” You cut her off.

She scratches her neck as she gets red in the face, “Oh, uh, yeah I did.”

Your heart feels warm and your stomach is full of butterflies. You can't help but smile softly at her as your face gets equally as crimson, “Thank you.”

“Nothing to it.” She answers nonchalantly.

You sit down at your dining table, not even bothering to heat up the food. It's a type of stirfry thing. Ellie sits beside you, looking at you nervously as you take a bite. Oddly enough, it's delicious. You didn't strike her as being much of a cook but you have to admit it's more than edible.

“Is it tolerable?” she asks.

You answer her between mouthfuls, “Are you shitting me? This is the best meal I've had probably ever.”

She laughs at your exaggerations. “Shut up, you're just saying that.”

“It's true, I swear!”

She shakes her head in response instead of saying anything back. You smile happily and keep eating your food. Looking out of your window as you ate, you noticed that the bad weather had finally stopped. You comment on it, trying to make conversation, “It's finally nice out.”

“Aw man,” she chuckles, “I can't believe we're talking about the weather, but you're right.” She pauses before talking again, “We should go do something.”

You answer her as you're shoveling the last of your food in your mouth, “Like what?”

“You'll see.” She answers you ominously.

“Okay, creepy.”

She questions you, “You trust me?”

You soften your expression, trying to be more sincere, “Of course I do.”

“Good, come outside with me.” She orders you, getting up from her seat and grabbing your coat. Taken aback by her sudden change in tone, you do as she says without answering her, or putting your dishes away.

She holds your jacket open for you and you slide your arms in. It's endearing, you get all warm and fuzzy on the inside. You open the door and let her go out before you, and close it.

You both walk out into the street, and she smacks your arm, pointing upwards to the sky. It’s completely clear; you can't help but feel so small looking up at all of the bright lights in the sky. Although, your view is slightly obstructed by the street lights.

“Wait Ellie, I have an idea.” You tell her as you try to grab her attention.

She looks down at you, “What's up?”

“Follow me.” You insist, as you already started making your way to your destination.

You bring her to the back of your house, where a ladder to your roof is propped up against the siding.

“It might be a little more unsafe because of the snow and stuff.” You warn her.

She shrugs, “It’ll probably be fine.”

Next thing you knew she was making her way up, and you soon followed after she made it. You both lay down on the snowy roof and look at the stars quietly, until she started naming and pointing out different stars and constellations.

“That big bright one over there, that's a whole galaxy, Andromeda.” She points to a different spot. “And there beside it, Cassiopea, and Orion's belt over there.”

You listen to her rave about space for a good while, she's cute when she rants like this. “Didn't strike you as that big of a space nerd.”

“Is knowing more about me that terrible?”

“No.” You answer immediately.. “I like being around you, remember?”

She shrugs, “Trying to.”

You sit up and turn to face her, “Ellie, I'm sorry for how things have been between us for however long we've known each other. Let's be friends like normal people are friends, who know each other's favourite colours, who let each other know when something is wrong. I'm sick of this.”

Ellie immediately gets up, “I'm sorry too. And I'd like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She smiles at you.

Having at least the smallest amount of progress puts a smile on your face, but you knew there was a lot more to be done if you wanted to get closer to her. “So, what is your favourite colour?”

She laughs, “Oh man, are we really doing this?”

“Absolutely we are.” You answer, as you lay back down in the snow to look up at the night sky.

This was about to be a long night.

a/n: SOO what r we thinking thoughts.. prayers? n e ways hope u all liked it !

tags: @champagnelovers101 @luvagirl222 @florenceisacoolname @cherriesnwatermelons @sufloerfs

[bettathanyou]

The Choices That Make Us, Part 2

Look at that, a double feature! I know the quotes of his memories don't align chronologically with Sofia calling him "Ceedric", but we're doing it for the sake of angst. Final Part will actually be not as gut wrenching, pinky swear it

TRIGGER WARNINGS

IMPLICATIONS OF SUICIDE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, AND COMMITING THE ACT. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

Cedric stands at the balcony again, the same siren song beckoning him to hop the railing and just do it- to jump off, feel his world slow down as his body raced to the cold, hard pavement below and then finally, every ache and raging storm within himself will quiet.

That's what Cedric really wanted. For everything to be still, all around him but most of all inside of him.

To be in a position of royal sorcerer was already stressful enough, but to be dragged around like a mutt on a leash- only to be beaten down with verbal stones when he can't perform a trick correctly.

To say he felt dehumanized was an understatement.

The sorcerer groans, holding his head in his hands as the embarrassment and shame wrack his body again, tasting the tang of blood in his mouth as he bites the inside of his cheek- an old habit that has now become compulsive whenever bad memories resurfaced.

"Stop! You're making it worse!"

I know. I'm sorry, Cordelia. My hands ruin everything they touch, and I've never stopped trying to atone for it.

"Not much of a sorcerer, is he?"

I tried, didn't I? Wasn't that enough? ....Why wasn't that ever enough?

"Just as bad as that Cedric guy from Enchancia..."

Yeah... I suppose I really am a bad, piece of shit person. No one believed I was good anyways, and I think I'm starting to see why.

"We're stuck with him..."

Cedric gulps, well, gasps really- his lungs can't seem to find oxygen now, and his tears were free flowing rivers of torment running down redden cheeks.

Blinking away more tears, he realizes he was leaning over the rail again- when did he start doing that tonight? Was it just muscle memory now, to look down at the ground beneath him with an aching, burning feeling in his chest that could only be described as longing?

"You won't... be stuck- with me forever..." Cedric's voice garbled out the words between gasps, feeling the bob and sway of his balance fighting against the pull of gravity. His throat burns, a lump forming in his throat- good. There was nothing much left to say now, his mind was made up, and-

"Mr. Ceedric?"

A sweet, innocent voice cuts through the haze with the sharpness of a knife, making the sorcerer still. Whatever breath he had left was stolen, coming out of his mouth in a wheeze.

Shit.

Why now, must he be disturbed? Can he truly not get one goddamn moment to himself, for once?

"Mr. Ceedric? Why are you hanging over the railing like that-? It's not safe!"

He purses his lips shut tight, afraid of what words might come out of his mouth and even more afraid that if he tried to talk he would break down into tears right then and there.

He hopes in vain the princess would just leave- maybe if he stood still long enough, didn't make a sound, she'd leave. People seem to have no trouble ignoring him... Well.

Almost everyone, it seemed.

"Mr. Ceedric...?"

He feels the briefest touch of small fingers wrapping around the fabric of his robe, tugging to get his attention. Cedric flinched from the contact, harder than either of them expected. He hears her small heels scrape against the stone floor, clearly startled by his response.

Hot, boiling shame courses through his veins, and of course, whenever Cedric is faced with shame, somehow anger is the only thing that he defaults to, to cover it up.

"It's CEDRIC, Ced-ric!" He retorts, barely keeping his voice steady as he furiously swiped the tears off his face. Cedric's lanky body slides off the railing, on the side that kept his feet planted on solid ground once again.

He inhales a deep breath, trying to stop his heart from racing. Cedric felt like it was thundering so loud in his ears, surely Sofia could hear it? Either way, he didn't want to know.

"What do you want-? And why didn't you knock, princess, you always knock!" He asks defensively, meaning to scold the child- but out loud, there was evident panic lacing his voice. Panic at the idea of having being caught, of having someone- no, not just someone, Sofia, almost witness him commit-

"I did knock, Mr. Ceedric...!" Sofia protested, biting her lip in a nervous manner.

Cedric blinked, a clumsy, half-hearted "What?" being his only response.

"...You didn't answer, so I..." Sofia pauses, a skittish air about her that makes Cedric want to jump off the balcony right then and there, for making such a sweet girl feel scared around him.

"I got worried."

[umbra-by-jacqui-natla]

Chapter Three

Running.

She was running through the crowds. Her arms swayed front and back and her feet stamped on the ground. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and the cold air bit into her lungs. At this great speed, Carrie could barely see a few feet ahead of her. And with that, she forced herself to stop. She felt her whole body working: her muscles warmed, her calves burned, fresh air entered her lungs and blood flowed into all her limbs.

Then, Carrie spotted a wooden bench and threw herself on it, her back pressing against it. Her heart raced fast from the running and her muscles ached. She inhaled the air through her nose and exhaled. She felt the people walking past her, chatting among themselves. Then, their thoughts echoed in her mind.

(— that project's due —)

(— the last time she said no she meant —)

(— he had an affair and that whore is pregnant?!)

Carrie covered her ears with both hands, hoping it would block them out.

(— maybe i should call my mom and—)

(— how has she got more than me?)

(— look at those freaks!)

Those thoughts deafened her. Her green eyes slowly began to water and the voices came back.

"The Devil never dies, he keeps coming back. You're gonna have to keep killing him. Over and over again."

"Shut up, Mama," she muttered quietly to herself, recognizing her voice.

Her hands pressed against her ears with strength.

"Crazy Carrie! Crazy Carrie!"

She shook her head.

"Ugly."

"Stupid."

"Dumb bitch."

Overwhelmed, Carrie let the tears flow down her eyes. She leaned her body forward and a soft sob escaped her. She covered her face with shaking hands; her throat tightened and took short breaths in. A flood of tears gushed down her hot cheeks.

Then, a hand fell onto Carrie's shoulder. She turned around, beaming. She saw a woman— possibly mid-thirties— standing next to her with her hand on her shoulder. She had long dark hair and pale skin and light brown eyes. She wore a grey hoodie with ripped jeans and brown trainers.

"You okay?" She asked. "You look rough."

Carrie shuddered her shoulders. "It's... I just..." She shook her head and placed her hand on her forehead. "I don't know what happened there."

"What you mean?" the woman enquired and sat down next to Carrie.

Carrie sighed and locked her hands together, resting them on her knees.

"I've been reliving bad memories," she explained. "I try to forget about it but..." Carrie lowered her head. "It doesn't matter how hard I try, I can't forget it."

"Sounds like you can't let the past go," the woman concluded and Carrie nodded, wiping her tears. "And you're beating yourself up because of it."

Carrie smiled briefly and looked at her. "Are you a therapist?"

"No," she laughed. "But I do understand what you're going through."

"Really?" she asked, confused by her words.

"Yeah, let me tell you something," the woman rotated her body and they faced each other. "You grew up in a horrible situation and faced horrible people, but you got through it and you are doing well. Despite all the things that happened, you allow yourself to come out of the other side."

Carrie looked on at her.

"You're doing well for yourself. Lemme ask you this. How many times have you gotten through something and you stay right there?"

Carrie pondered her question, her gaze at her. Her eyebrows pulled in slightly causing a vertical wrinkle; her head was slightly tilted. Her mouth pressed together in a thin line.

"You keep referring back to it," the woman continued. "You keep putting your hand on a burning stove, you keep sticking your foot in a fire. How many times have you brought yourself through something and you stay there mentally? You beat yourself over the grades you get, you beat yourself over a relationship you were in for too long, but you got through it."

Other tears fell out of Carrie's eyes.

"Now, instead of accepting that you got through it, you keep dabbling in it. You want it to be different and it's not. You can't change your past but you can create your future."

Carrie found that warm comfort in it. She turned herself around while gazing at her.

"I never thought I would need that, thanks," she said with gratitude. "What's your name?"

"Maria," the woman replied and smiled. "Everyone knows me around me. Yet I've never seen you before."

"Yeah, I don't go out much," she explained. "I-I'm Carrie, by the way."

"Well, Carrie, you should," Maria said, patting her shoulder. "Good for your health, especially the mental side. I mean, I've been living outside since I was eighteen."

"You're homeless?" Carrie gawked at her, surprised.

"Yeah," she answered, nodding her head. "But don't worry, I've been going into the shelters... when there's enough room for people and following their rules."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Carrie said.

Maria looked at her, confused. "For what?"

"For the way that you're living."

"It's fine. Being in a shelter is greater than being on the streets." Maria's face sternly darkened as she eyed the busy streets. "Being out there at night can be dangerous and scary for some. Punching, kicking, robbing, stabbing, the lot."

"Oh my gosh," Carrie exclaimed. "Has that ever happened to you?"

"Only the robbing and a few punches and kicks," Maria replied, rubbing her arm. Her brown eyes stared at Carrie. "You watch out at night, Carrie. There's a lot of sickos loose on the streets."

She looked at Maria, noting all the details of her person, and concern gripped her. Was she putting her in danger just by talking to her?

"Yeah," Carrie replied vaguely, already turning and getting up from the bench; she began to walk away from her.

"That's okay," Maria heard her call to her retreating back, "Some of us like it that way."

I'm not asking what she meant, Carrie shot back mentally, but her heart wasn't really in it.

She pulled her jacket a little closer as she looked at Maria for the last time and turned her head. Luckily it was still daytime so the chances of meeting a 'sicko' were low. But never none.

***

As she walked through the crowd, Carrie felt a lot calmer than she was a few hours ago. She remembered Maria's words as she headed home.

"You can't change your past but you can create your future."

The future was the one thing she never thought about. When the Black Prom happened and her old house was falling on her, she thought she would never live to see her future. But Estelle saved her from Chamberlain and she tried to help her gain it. This gave Carrie something to think about.

Then, she felt her pocket vibrating. Carrie reached her hand into her pocket and pulled out her iPhone. She got her first phone on her twenty-first birthday. Back at her old home in Chamberlain, her mother never let advanced technology in believing it was the Devil's way of luring people to damnation. But she didn't find anything bad about it. Instead, she was curious about the phone. Estelle did warn her about the hacking and the trolls and other issues but Carrie never encountered them.

She saw Estelle's name on the phone screen, pressed the green icon, and placed it to her ear.

"Hello?" Carrie asked, walking.

"Hi, Carrie," she heard Estelle at the other end of the phone. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," she replied. "I'm just out for a walk."

"Okay, that's good. You've been anywhere or just walking?"

"I went to a library and... then I panicked." Carrie sighed.

"Panicked?" Estelle said, her voice concerned. "What happened?"

"I spotted two books relating to the Black Prom and an old guy tells me..." she shook her head. "No, remind me of what happened there."

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," Estelle replied sadly and sighed. "It's my fault. I told you that you should go out more and I didn't think you would be getting a panic attack."

"So that what it was?" Carrie said to herself. "I mean, the last time I experienced that was at school in the showers and..." she paused, trying not to think about it. And Estelle knew what she was talking about. "Well, you know. That."

Carrie coldly ended 'that'.

"I know," Estelle sighed. "I know." She took a brief pause and said, "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" She asked.

"For forcing you to do something you felt uncomfortable doing."

"It's fine. Plus I understand where you're coming from." Carrie breathed in and then grinned. "Also, I talked to a homeless woman."

There was a small silence.

"That... sounds good," Estelle managed to say. "Was she nice to you?"

"Yeah, she was. Her name was Maria and she comforted me when I was crying."

"Oh, she definitely sounds nice. I'll see you when you come home."

"Okay, Estelle," she said. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay, bye," Estelle replied.

"Bye."

Carrie pressed the red icon, ending the call. She placed her phone back into her pocket as she strolled back home.

***

She arrived back at the Hotel Schueller by one o'clock. She walked upstairs despite the aches in her leg muscles from all the walking and running. Once she arrived upstairs, Carrie stopped by the door — number 1401 — and took out her key. She placed it in the keyhole and carefully opened it. Once she took her key out, she entered her apartment and closed the door behind her.

She took off her jacket, hung it up, and carefully walked to the kitchen. Then, Carrie spotted Estelle in the living room.

"Hey, Carrie," Estelle greeted her and hugged her. "How's your walk?"

"Pretty good," Carrie replied. "How's work?"

"Well, you know, discovering something new everyday."

They laughed and Estelle fidgeted her hair with her right hand and rubbed her neck.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie tonight?" She suggested. "And we could have pizza?"

"Sure," Carrie said and smiled, her eyes beaming.

"Great," Estelle voiced lightly and headed to the DVD shelves. "What do you want to watch?"

Carrie shrugged her shoulders. "T-That film with Brad Pitt? The one where he's married to an assassin who tried to kill him?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Sure thing."

Estelle walked into the living room with the DVD copy in her hand. After she placed the disc in the DVD player, Estelle ordered a pizza from the local pizza place and took a bottle of Pepsi Max out of the fridge. Carrie sat on the sofa with her legs crossed. She smiled and Estelle sat next to her, placing the pizza box on the table.

Link to Chapter Four

[bluelolblue]

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH I WANT IT IN A BOOK OR SOMEWHERE AAAAAAAH

QUOTING TIMEEE

The way John puts himself in front of him 😭 🥺

Reluctantly, he let go, and just as he'd expected, Santino lunged towards the wall. John was too fast and put himself in front of Santino's fist before he could make contact. Santino stopped short, flushing even harder at the frustration of having to restrain himself in that state.

GOING TO THE BEACH angy Santino storming off "The beach >:["

"Where do you think you're going?"

Through clenched teeth, "The beach."

OMG WHAT JOHN THOUGHT 😭 he cares so much ❤️‍🩹

Horrifying scenarios flashed through John's mind, of Santino walking out into the ocean and never coming back. His heart did a sickening sort of drop. "Why?"

This whole part AAGGHH stubborn angry Santino 😭 but I laughed when he said "You're not invited" HSSHHS

"Salt water is good for healing wounds. You want me to take care of myself so badly? Fine. Maybe I want to go for a swim."

"That will burn like hell."

"GOOD. But it's healthy, so you can't stop me."

John practically growled in frustration. He couldn't argue with that. He just grabbed his coat. "l'm coming with you."

"You're not invited."

"I don't care. I'm going to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

Just casually tossed his clothes at John's face 😭 but John understood his pain 😞

Santino stripped down immediately and threw his clothes in John's face. He would have laughed at the pettiness of it if he didn't know how much pain was raging inside of Santino right now. So he just caught them and folded them neatly over his arm so they wouldn't get covered with sand. Then he crossed his arms and watched from the edge of the water.

OMG DAMN JUST IMAGINING IT POOR BABY 💀

John could see the red blooming across the slash on Santino's side. The wound wasn't deep at all, but it looked awful. It was long - an arc from the top of his ribcage on the right side to below the navel on the left. And it was still bleeding.

AWW POOR SANTI OMMGG AND ALL JOHN COULD DO WAS WATCH HELPLESSLY 😭

Based on the sound he made, it couldn't have felt good. It was a kind of yelping scream that he bit off with a long stream of swearing in ltalian. John frowned hard. He knew what that felt like - he'd been in the ocean after a job before, by necessity, and it stung something awful. But all he could do was watch helplessly.

HE IS CRYING AND I WILL CRY TOO, that must've hurt so bad and John came to rescue 😞

He plunged back in, up to his chest this time, and screamed again. This time, John couldn't tell if it was pain or frustration or self-hatred, because it gave out into sobbing. He was crying so badly that John was worried he was going to double over into the waves. "That's enough. I'm coming out." He kicked off his shoes and trousers, set down their things, and waded into the frigid water.

I'll end up quoting everything BUT THIS WHOLEEE PART 😭💔 but my heart melts every time John calls him "love" ❤️‍🩹

"Come on, love. Let's go back to shore yeah?"

"No. I-l deserve this." Santino didn't hug him back. He just stood there shivering terribly.

"Why?"

"Because I fucked up! They had to punish me. And l'm so angry, John. I'm so angry, and there's nothing I can do. I can't even be angry at them. Ijust have to play nice because I'm powerless and it's all my fault."

"No you don't. You're allowed to hate them. You don't have to hate yourself."

Finally baby admitted it hurt him a lot, you little stubborn ass Santino 🥺

"Okay. This hurts too fucking much anyway. Cazzo, I didn't expect it to be this bad." His heart was still racing against John's chest, probably from sheer pain.

"Yeah...'m not surprised. Let's go get the salt out, I brought stuff to take care of it so it doesn't hurt as much on the walk home."

AWW 😭 he stayed curled up against him :3

"You didn't deserve that."

He melted into the kiss and stayed curled up against his lover, trying to regain some body heat, but he couldn't bring himself to reply.

Fuck that whole organization YESS 😭

"You didn't, Santino. They did this to you because they're on a power trip. Because the whole organization runs by making people feel trapped and small, and it pisses me off."

His answer was slow and very quiet. "Honestly...i don't want that to be true. lf that's true, then I have to do something about it."

FUCK YEEESSS POWER COUPLE MOMENT 🖤💙🖤💙🖤💙

"We have to do something about it"

AAAHHHH I LOVE IITTTTTT SO MUCH NOW IT'S THEIR TURN TO FIGHT AGAINST THOSE BITCHES

HENLLOO ✨️💖

I have this idea for some time, and it's something I wanna write one day, BUT I think you'd really like this idea bc it's hurt/comfort and Santino at the beach! I'm curious about your thoughts or if it's inspiring yk 👀

Santino having a wound, that's not fully healed, or not healed at all and he wants to go to the sea to feel that salt kinda "bite" his wound, he wants to feel that pain because he thinks he deserves it or whatever other reason.

John tried to talk him out of it just because he knew it would hurt, but then again, sea water could help the wound heal faster. So, John insists for Santino's own safety that he goes with him. And eventually Santino agrees. Of course it hurt and burned, it's salt on the wound and Santino maybe thought it would be easier but it hurt a lot.

Santino wants to make himself suffer even more 😞

AAAAAAAA this one cut DEEP for me!! Your asks are so good lately (well, always, but especially this one). It's so dark but honestly this is a topic that I love to write about and I think it says a lot about Santino and what he's going through. What a brutal scenario, Santino is really suffering. But John is there to make sure he's safe and build up his self-esteem, as always.

Also, as a note: the ocean is not recommended as a source of salt water to put on a wound even if it does help sometimes, because there's bacteria in the ocean! So don't try this at home.

🖤💙Salt in the Wound💙🖤

TW: self harm via salt water, attempted self harm via breaking and punching things, blaming himself for abuse, concerns over potential suicidal behavior (there is none actually attempted), Dead Dove Do Not Eat

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“I am not leaving you alone like this!”

The bedroom was wrecked in every way that wouldn’t be permanent. Pillows and blankets thrown around the room, the desk overturned, even the curtains torn down. John had stepped in to stop Santino from tearing up his own poetry, but he’d let him flip the chair and splinter its legs against the floor. And why was all of this happening? Because Santino had been punished by a High Table emissary. The Adjudicator and company had approached them in the middle of the Continental lobby, informed Santino that he had broken some inscrutable rule John didn’t even know about, and then slashed him across the gut in front of the whole room of people.

After the wound was patched up he had just sort of…gone quiet. It was obvious he blamed himself. He brooded all the rest of the day, until finally John pressed him about what was wrong and he exploded.

“Fuck off, John! Get your hands off of me!” He had Santino’s arms pinned behind his back so he wouldn’t punch the walls. Reluctantly, he let go, and just as he’d expected, Santino lunged towards the wall. John was too fast and put himself in front of Santino’s fist before he could make contact. Santino stopped short, flushing even harder at the frustration of having to restrain himself in that state.

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

Santino stared at him for a long moment, his jaw set hatefully. Then he turned to walk out.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Through clenched teeth, “The beach.”

Their home was only a short walk from the ocean, and in this mood, Santino could make it there in five minutes. Horrifying scenarios flashed through John’s mind, of Santino walking out into the ocean and never coming back. His heart did a sickening sort of drop. “Why?”

Santino whirled back to him with his chin in the air, the picture of passive aggression and mock innocence. “Salt water is good for healing wounds. You want me to take care of myself so badly? Fine. Maybe I want to go for a swim.”

“That will burn like hell.”

“GOOD. But it’s healthy, so you can’t stop me.”

John practically growled in frustration. He couldn’t argue with that. He just grabbed his coat. “I’m coming with you.”

“You’re not invited.”

“I don’t care. I’m going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

Santino’s scowl softened for a fraction of a second, replaced by something miserable and touched. But then he just growled back, grabbed his swim trunks, and marched out the door without another word.

They were silent on the walk to the beach, with the sun sinking down against the waves in reds and oranges as fiery as Santino’s expression. John began to hope that he’d cool down by the time they got there, but he had no such luck. Santino stripped down immediately and threw his clothes in John’s face. He would have laughed at the pettiness of it if he didn’t know how much pain was raging inside of Santino right now. So he just caught them and folded them neatly over his arm so they wouldn’t get covered with sand. Then he crossed his arms and watched from the edge of the water.

With his shirt off, and then his dressing thrown to the ground as well, John could see the red blooming across the slash on Santino’s side. The wound wasn’t deep at all, but it looked awful. It was long – an arc from the top of his ribcage on the right side to below the navel on the left. And it was still bleeding.

Santino took a first step into the water and already flinched. The evening wind was picking up and it was ice cold. “Maybe you should do this tomorrow,” John suggested. “Like noon? When it’s warmer?”

The very idea of sparing himself any pain seemed to just make Santino even more furious. He only turned back long enough to glare at John and then suddenly dashed forward, until the waves were up to his stomach.

Based on the sound he made, it couldn’t have felt good. It was a kind of yelping scream that he bit off with a long stream of swearing in Italian. John frowned hard. He knew what that felt like – he’d been in the ocean after a job before, by necessity, and it stung something awful. But all he could do was watch helplessly. At least Santino was standing still now, and seemed to be reconsidering. He even took a few steps back until the cut was mostly above the water line again.

But irritation with his own weakness seemed to give him a second wind. He plunged back in, up to his chest this time, and screamed again. This time, John couldn’t tell if it was pain or frustration or self-hatred, because it gave out into sobbing. He was crying so badly that John was worried he was going to double over into the waves. “That’s enough. I’m coming out.” He kicked off his shoes and trousers, set down their things, and waded into the frigid water.

He wasn’t sure if Santino heard him or not, because he didn’t move at all until John’s arms were around him.

“Come on, love. Let’s go back to shore, yeah?”

“No. I-I deserve this.” Santino didn’t hug him back. He just stood there shivering terribly.

“Why?”

“Because I fucked up! They had to punish me. And I’m so angry, John. I’m so angry, and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even be angry at them. I just have to play nice because I’m powerless and it’s all my fault.”

“No you don’t. You’re allowed to hate them. You don’t have to hate yourself.” He realized they weren’t just talking about The Adjudicator, but about everyone who had hurt Santino. Especially those who he didn’t couldn’t bring himself to hate. His own father. The water swirling around their bodies was deathly cold and John felt himself starting to shake too, but he ignored it and held Santino as close as he could.

For a second, Santino cried harder against him, but it seemed to bring some kind of cathartic release. Finally, he went calm and hugged John back. He seemed drained. “Okay. This hurts too fucking much anyway. Cazzo, I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” His heart was still racing against John’s chest, probably from sheer pain.

“Yeah…I’m not surprised. Let’s go get the salt out, I brought stuff to take care of it so it doesn't hurt as much on the walk home.”

So Santino allowed himself to be led back to shore. John wrapped him in a towel and poured a fresh water bottle over the cut to rinse it. That stung too, and he was already back to whining about the pain, but John didn’t mind. As long as Santino didn’t want to make himself suffer. He kissed him hard. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He melted into the kiss and stayed curled up against his lover, trying to regain some body heat, but he couldn’t bring himself to reply.

“You didn’t, Santino. They did this to you because they’re on a power trip. Because the whole organization runs by making people feel trapped and small, and it pisses me off.”

His answer was slow and very quiet. “Honestly…I don’t want that to be true. If that’s true, then I have to do something about it.”

“Yeah.” John wove his fingers through Santino’s curls and studied his face. He was so precious, so fierce, so full of life. A world in which a person like Santino could be hurt over and over again until he wanted to hurt himself too wasn’t one that John could stand for. “We have to do something about it.”

[hotxcheeto]

Sooo my request is for abby Anderson x female reader an soulmate Au thing please

━ 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, mentions of injury, hurt ankle, angst if you squint, fluff

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - Sorry this took so long! But I have not yet done a soulmate au so I hope you enjoy! <3

Jesus Y/n you okay?

The black ink question was displayed on your shaking wrist, eyes staring into the darkness of the room you were trapped. Leg caught underneath the debris of the fallen ceiling.

You'd gone right through, and then your partner had ran. Ditching you once infected began to come out of every corner of the room. They'd slowed down, stumbling in here and there.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sitting in the room, ankle aching, waiting for anyone to come and find you. If that would even happen. You couldn't walk, at all, and even if you could there was no way you could get the debris off your leg alone.

It hurt too much.

So you just had to lay there waiting, for death or for someone to find you. The silence deafening, fear running through your body as your heart raced, beating hard against your chest. You could barely muster a thought, constantly looking around the room waiting for an infected to slip in once again.

You couldn't breathe, shaking, glancing up at the hole in the ceiling every once in a while. The only source of light in the entire room, the only comfort being the spot you were trapped in.

It was cold, your breath visible in front of your face. Not only did your body shudder from the being afraid, but from the cold.

Your lungs burned after a while, trying to calm yourself, to escape.

But then dust began to fall from the ceiling again, walking along. Fear flooding your veins once more, eyes widening.

"no, no, no, no." You whispered, hearing the footsteps along the floor above. Boots, heavy boots. It was either your people or not, and you were about to find you.

Heart pounding, feeling like it was going to burst from your ribcage and fall out onto the floor.

You moved. Shifting, trying to get out again, a pained cry leaving your lips when a piece of wood stabbed into your swollen ankle.

But when you looked up again, tears falling down your cheeks. There was a girl you'd seen before looking down at you. Abby, you believed was her name.

"Jesus Y/n, you okay?" You heard the all too familiar phrase but it didn't register in the beginning, shaking your head. "No, I fell through the floor." You cried out, Abby seemingly freezing, your eyes moving back to your trapped leg.

But that's when it hit you, her words, then the words on your wrist. When you looked at them again, unlike earlier, they were no longer a deep black. Now they were faded.

Despite the want to feel the excitement, you heard a clicker just in front of you. Eyes widening at the darkness. Nothing visible, just the noise of the creature coming closer.

"Abby." You whispered, terror in your face as you stared into the abyss. "Do you have a gun?" "It's out, it's been out." The dead infected around you gave it away, you'd used all the ammo you had on you. "Shit." Abby soon disappeared from the hole, the clicker getting closer.

Yelling at nothing, its distorted body getting close to light. So close it was almost completely visible. Stumbling towards you, before stopping, making a few squawking noises before continuing on.

A rope then fell from the roof catching the attention of the thing just a few feet in front of you. Hearing it let out a deafening squeal, choking on air, it beginning to come towards you.

Abby then dropped down, grabbing a board from the ground. She picked it up and backed up for a moment. Swinging as hard as she could at the thing.

Bashing its head, both of you watching it stumble to the floor. Abby not hesitating to stomp on its head, blood covering the ground and the bottom of Abby's shoe.

Her eyes then met yours.

"My foot's stuck." You muttered, tears drying against your face, staring at your newfound soulmate. "He left me." You added quietly, Abby's eyes softening as she stared down at your shuddering form.

"Fucking asshole" You laughed quietly, wiping your face with the back of your cold hand. "I know right." "Almost killed you before I could even meet you." Abby tried cheering you up, distracting you from your foot. She smiled as you giggled again, looking at your trapped leg. "I can't lift it like this."

"I got it. When I lift, scoot back alright?" "Yeah, yeah okay." You nodded, gritting your teeth when you shifted once again. Readjusting yourself to back away. "This is gonna suck." You muttered. "Can't be worse than falling through the floor." She smiled, your light laughter getting a chuckle out of her.

Abby moved, throwing some of the debris away, getting to the large piece of flooring keeping you completely trapped. Lifting it with ease. A painful whimper leaving your lips as you pushed yourself back with your hands, dragging your ankle along the ground.

She then dropped it, moving to your side. Kneeling down beside you.

"How long have you been here?" Abby asked, her hand on your upper arm. "I don't know. At least an hour. James ran off after I fell through, I told him I was stuck. He was gonna help but then a few clickers came. He freaked out and ran off."

Softly, Abby picked up your leg, hearing a small hiss leave your lips.

"Here." She then set it back down, standing up before wrapping her arm around your back and under your arms. Picking up up. "I'm gonna climb up the rope, and once I get up, grab it. I'll pull you up."

You looked at her with eyes full of worry. Then up at the hole in the ceiling.

"You think you can lift me?" "Yeah." Abby said almost nonchalantly, your eyes soon flickering to her wrist while she stared up. You picked up her hand, her other arm still holding you up.

No I fell through the floor.

It was comical, actually, yours wasn't half bad. But hers, hers could catch an eye.

"Ready?" There was a tiny smile on her lips when she asked you. Nodding your head.

It was strange, you knew the day would come when you met her. But when was the biggest question you had. And now it was when.

Everyone had words on their wrist, disappearing if your soulmate had died. Only not having one if your soulmate had not yet been born, mostly happening in children. Words appearing again once the universe found you another half. Another half that had lost their own first soulmate.

Watching Abby climb the rope, you wondered about it. How even in a world like this, the universe always made sure you had a person. At least one, destined to find you.

"Alright, hold on tight, I'll pull you up." You were knocked from your thoughts, looking at Abby looking down at you from the ceiling.

Banging then caught your attention, turning towards an unseen door that runners were now pushing open. A clicker having emerged from it just before Abby had gotten there. The one that laid dead beside the one she'd stomped on.

"Fuck." You grabbed the rope, Abby disappearing, beginning to pull you up and off the ground. You could hear the door bashing open, but what you couldn't see was them. Trying to all fit through the door, one finally fitting through.

You were off the ground by then, getting closer to the top. But it could still reach you grabbing your aching ankle, a cry leaving your lips. Kicking it despite the pain.

Abby then leaned over as she pulled you closer to the top. Picking you up by your armpits, almost like a child as the infected screeched and thrashed below.

"Thank you." You finally felt like you could breathe again, leaning against her body. "Yeah." She huffed, taking in a deep breath. Abby soon stood up after you both had calmed down.

Your entire ankle hurt, especially after kicking it. Throbbing and swollen.

"I can't walk by myself." You muttered, trying to stand up on one foot, keeping the pressure off the other one. "Here, I'll just.." Her hand resting on your upper shoulders just beside your neck. "Are you-" Abby then wrapped her arms under the back of your legs.

Picking you up and off the floor bridal style. Your arm instinctively going around her neck.

"Thanks." "No problem." Your one arm held her shoulder, the other on your stomach as she began to walk. "Maybe falling through the floor wasn't half bad." "Yeah, now you get to fall for me."

You felt your face heat up, Abby blushing at her own forwardness.

"How long did it take you to come up with that?" "Since the sentence appeared." "I fucking knew it."

A/n: TOMORROW IS FRIDAYYYY

[h0tchner]

Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,188 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan + flashbacks in other eras Warnings: language, fear and anxiety, mention of fear of heights Summary: Y/N and Daryl head out on the run for the requested medical supplies. Things are tense, but possibly about to get worse... This part is written in Daryl's POV!

Your name: submit What is this?

* * *

“I ain’t waitin’. I got a whiff of him and I gotta go before it disappears.”

“Daryl, are you sure about this?” Carol pressed him, creases from worry between her eyebrows. “Are you sure you’ve really thought this through?”

“What is there to think through? If he finds her again, he’ll kill her. And I ain’t waitin’ around for that to happen.” The archer was a blur of activity, gathering his gear and shoving it into his pack.

“I think you need to talk to her about this,” Carol insisted, relinquishing her hold on his poncho somewhat unwillingly as Daryl pulled it from her hands.

He shook his head. “Nah. Ya know she’ll want to be there and I can’t risk that…” he trailed off. “I can’t risk—can’t risk that.”

A thick silence stretched for a moment and Carol wrung her hands. “Well, what are you going to tell her?”

He paused, his hands on the clasp of his pack. “I ain’t tellin’ her anythin’. I’ll leave before its light tomorrow. By the time everyone is up, I’ll be gone.”

“What am I supposed to tell her then? When she inevitably asks?” Carol pressed him. “You want me to lie to her too?”

“I ain’t lyin’,” Daryl snapped. “‘M just not—not tellin’ her everythin’. ‘M ending this so she can move on.”

Carol’s jaw tensed. “It feels like a lie.”

“Just tell her I went north. To see what I could see. Lookin’ for supplies,” he drawled, setting his pack and crossbow on the ground beside his bed. “I don’t know.”

Carol sighed heavily and shook her head as he straightened up. “I don’t think this is—”

“Look, tell her whatever ya want. Just wait until ‘m gone. This is happenin’. It’ll be done. S’gonna be over with. For good.”

She shook her head and gave him a long look before crossing his cell and gently clasping his shoulder. “Be careful. I mean it,” she said, surrendering to the fact that there would be no changing his mind. He nodded, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment.

“I will.”

Carol gave him one last look full of anxiety and left him.

* * *

I hardly slept. Maybe caught 20 minutes here and 15 minutes there. Anxiety about the run—that’s all it was. At least, that’s what I kept tellin’ myself. Wanderin’ into a hospital was about the dumbest shit we could do. They always promised to be loaded with unexpected bullshit and floods of undead assholes. But lyin’ flat on my back in the dark, I knew deep down it had a helluva lot more to do with her than it had to do with the run. I was tryin’ to remember the last time I’d spent more than ten minutes alone with her and it left me with a feelin’ like somebody had dropped a damn lead weight onto my chest. I turned over in bed in an attempt to throw it off, but it still sat there on my lungs. I knew exactly when we’d last been alone for longer than a few minutes. Of course I fuckin’ knew. It was burned into my goddamn memory.

But it wasn’t doin’ me a lick of good to think on it so I pushed it away and waited for the clock beside me to read 5:15 before I climbed out of bed. My gear was all waitin’ ready, except for pickin’ up a gun on the way out. I half-expected to run into her in the armory, but it was dark and empty when I grabbed a handgun and some ammo. It felt like a lonely walk to Aaron’s, up the empty street, dew heavy on the grass, and my bootsteps echoing loudly off the dark rows’a houses. I never feel right in here… with the square little lawns and lights on by the front doors. It just felt fake, like somebody had built paper houses and was plannin’ to light ‘em up to burn any minute. I couldn’t feel settled. I just felt… lost. Outta place. Like I didn’t belong.

I’d gotten rid of that feelin’ once… My mind drifted back to her like it always did. It was like I didn’t have no damn control over my own mind. She’d been the one who’d made me feel like I belonged. But now? Fuck. I’m doin’ it again. Focus, dumbass.

She wasn’t waitin’ by my bike either, so I rode up to the gate. As the lookout platform came into view, I caught sight of her climbing down, followed by Gabriel. Her pack was slung on her back, a shotgun hanging at her side and her favorite pistol in a holster on her thigh. I found myself chewing the inside of my cheek. Nerves. Anxiety. This was gonna be a long fuckin’ day.

“I’ve got the gate,” Gabriel said, heading for the latch. She wandered over and I felt a jolt when she met my eyes. I nudged my nose up in a nod, but she just looked back at me with that same stony expression. Unreadable. It always seemed like I never saw her smile anymore. Maybe she did, just not around me. I got that blank look or a glare that I probably deserved…

“Were ya on watch?” I asked, curious why she wouldn’ta gotten rid of her shift in favor of sleep, knowing we’d be heading out on a run early.

“No,” she said simply. No extra info. Typical. Why waste more on me when one word would do? She didn’t owe me nothin’. And she knew it. I swallowed my other questions and leaned forward on my bike so she could climb on. I felt her settle in behind me and glanced over my shoulder at her. She caught my eyes for a brief moment before looking away, down toward the ground. That was typical too. It was like she just couldn’t look at me. Felt like somebody twisted a blade in my chest every time she dodged me like that. And yet I couldn’t get enough of her, even if she was purposely a giant pain in the ass most of the damn time… I still felt like she was a mirage in a desert. A mouthful of cool water in a drought. Food for a starvin’ man.

Gabriel was waiting with the gate open, so I revved the bike to life again. Her arms wrapped around my waist to hold on and for a second I thought I felt her cheek press against the back of my shoulder, but I knew I must have imagined it. My heart was racing as we pulled out. I was more anxious than I had been all night. The thoughts rushing through my head moved so fast I couldn’t even focus on any of them.

Gabriel yelled at us to be safe as we moved through, kickin’ dust up that left a glowing red cloud behind from the reflection of the taillights. The ride to the city was smooth. We made good time, luckily only passing lone walkers or small herds that were easy to avoid. Around the curves, for a brief moment, she’d hold tighter to me and lean into the turns like I’d taught her in what felt like another fuckin’ lifetime. Each corner I could feel every individual fingertip pressing into my waist or stomach. It was always followed by a sudden wash of heat like somebody had shoved me in a shower with the temperature all the way up. I couldn’t control it. Didn’t matter how hard I tried to ignore the feelin’ of being so damn close against each other…

I slowed down as we neared the hospital. Cars sat rusting in gridlocked traffic, tires long gone, frozen in time—same place they were when everythin’ shut the fuck down. I slowed my bike to roll over some debris and hit a chunk of concrete a little harder than I meant to. Her arms tightened around me reflexively at the jolt before loosening again the next second. My heart jolted at the same time. That feeling… of her clinging onto me for safety—but fuck. Let’s not make it out to be more than it is, dumbass. I turned toward my left shoulder. “Sorry,” I murmured. She didn’t say anything back, just shifted in her place behind me, puttin’ an inch more space back between us. The hospital came into view ahead, tall over everything else on the block.

She tapped my arm and I turned so I could hear her over the engine. “We should park. Sound of the bike,” she said. I knew what she was thinkin’. Any walkers or people anywhere around would hear us. I turned down a side street and parked in a loading dock bay. She climbed off about as damn fast as she could. Kicking the kickstand out and swinging my leg over, she was already walking back toward the corner of the building to look down the street.

“Hold up,” I called after her. I still had to get my gear off the back. She either didn’t hear me or didn’t give a shit and I found myself gritting my teeth. But when I rushed around the corner, I nearly collided with her. She did wait. She was leaned up against the brick, her shotgun in her hands, staring ahead at the looming building.

She straightened up as I stopped beside her and we started windin’ our way down the last couple blocks, keepin’ to the shadows of the buildings, stayin’ in cover as best we could. Even so, I couldn’t help glancin’ up at the endless windows, too many high points. All it would take is one asshole with a rifle and a scope... My hands started to sweat as I gripped my crossbow. I glanced at her, but she was as stony-faced as ever. “C’mon,” I said, quickening my stride. “I wanna get the hell off this street.”

I heard her let out a small scoff behind me. “Yeah, you’re the only one worried about being out here,” she murmured. My teeth clenched again but I did my best to ignore it. There was no point gettin’ riled up this early in the day. We still had a lot of fuckin’ work to do. We reached a set of double doors on the side of the hospital, but one glance inside showed they were well barricaded. I stood there rubbing a hand over the stubble on my face. “S’try the south door,” I drawled. To my surprise, she didn’t argue. But that side was a fuckin’ bust too. “Shit,” I spat out. There was a tall cabinet blocking the entrance.

“Good call,” she said sarcastically.

I shot her a glare. And this time when I bit my cheek, I tasted blood. “Ya got a better fuckin’ idea? Huh?” I challenged her.

She rolled her eyes, studying the door for a moment. There was a large glass pane above it that was broken out and I saw her eyes lock in on it. “Boost me up there,” she said, inclining her chin to indicate the window.

Did she want to go in alone? Well, that sure as shit wasn’t fuckin’ happenin’. “Like hell,” I growled back. She rolled her eyes again.

“Just boost me through and I’ll get the door open. I’ll let you in.”

Now it was my turn to scoff. “Ya gonna move that cabinet? By yerself?” I asked skeptically. The muscle in her jaw tensed.

“I don’t have to move it far. Just enough to let you squeeze in. And you can help from the outside.”

I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. I didn’t like the idea. I paced a tight circle, thinkin’, as she shifted impatiently beside me. “What if ya get in there and there are walkers? Huh? We can’t see shit down the hall.”

“I’ll be quiet. Come on. We haven’t got all fucking day and we’re sitting ducks out here. Unless you’ve come up with something better—”

I didn’t like it, but she was right. Shit. “Fine,” I interrupted. She leaned her shotgun up against the wall as I set my back against the door, fingers locked together and hands low at my bent knee. “C’mon. Gimme yer foot.”

She seemed to hesitate and I wondered if she was having second thoughts, but the next moment she stepped close in front of me and her hands came to my shoulders. “Ready?” I asked. Her face was maybe six inches from mine, her hands light. I started to feel warm again, a flush of heat across the back of my neck that started spillin’ into my chest. I could see every fleck of color in her eyes, the upturned curve of her eyelashes, that little scar on her chin... Fuck. Focus.

“Ready.” She planted her boot in my hands and I boosted her up so she could grab the window edge. The tinkling of glass dropping in was all I could hear for a moment, and then her weight disappeared from my hands. Spinning around, I watched her pull herself through onto the top of the cabinet. She stayed perched there for a moment, glancin’ behind her, scoutin’ the hallway, before she dropped to her feet lightly. She made it look easy. Graceful.

I couldn’t stand still, constantly shifting my weight. I watched her face tighten as she wedged her shoulder into the cabinet, using all her weight, and it started to move at an angle away from the door. I pushed in with my shoulder from the outside and we finally had enough space for me to slip through. I passed her shotgun through first before turnin’ sideways and slidin’ in. It was dark and completely silent except for the sound of our own breathin’. It felt stuffy inside, and I could vaguely smell somethin’ sharp like animal piss and a sickeningly sweet smell. Death. Decay. I paused to draw the string on my crossbow back, cocking it ready to fire, a bolt nestled in the flight groove.

She pulled her flashlight out from the side pocket of her pack and clicked it on, shining it partially up the hallway ahead. “Jesus…” Her boots crunched over broken glass. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her shotgun, her eyes fixed down the hall, following the moving beam of her light. “This place is a fucking wreck,” she whispered. In her distraction, her tone lacked the usual hostility or sarcasm.

“Somethin’ went down since we were last here,” I agreed. There was a lot more debris and furniture toppled over and strewn about. A lot of obstacles to a clean getaway if we had to make one. “Let’s just get this done and get the hell out.”

“What a unique idea…” she remarked over her shoulder. There it was. Damn sarcasm was back.

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes and movin’ past her so I was in the lead. I knew it would annoy her, but I secretly wanted to be the one in the line of fire if somethin’ was crooked. I headed for the stairwell, pullin’ my own flashlight out and shinin’ it inside before I tried the door. It looked clear. “Upper floors are more likely to have shit left. Let’s go.”

We moved in silence. I could feel her ghosting behind me the whole way, almost mimicking my movements. This was the first time the two of us had been alone on a run since… since I dun even know when. But despite it being so goddamn long, we weren’t out of step. Once we started movin’ it was like no damn time had passed. We fell right back into our old rhythm. I knew her and she knew me. We worked well together when she put aside her need to argue with everythin’ I said. It still felt like we each knew what the other was thinkin’. Not that I expected this run would magically make working together bearable again for good, or solve anything, but at least we could if we had to. I also now was realizin’ this whole thing was probably orchestrated by Rick. Did Denise really need the supplies? Sure. But did it have to be Y/N and I gettin’ ‘em? Alone? Fuck no. I dunno exactly what he was hopin’ for but I’m pretty sure he’ll be disappointed…

Moving steadily upwards, we had most of the supplies on the list, plus plenty of extra finds, but I was growing more and more uneasy as we went on. We hadn’t run into a single fucking walker yet, and to me that meant they were probably herded up in a massive hoard somewhere. It felt like a matter of time before we found them or they found us. I could sense Y/N’s tension risin’ again too. She was more fidgety, more careful about each step she took. I found myself frequently sweeping my eyes back behind us to make sure nothin’ was lurking just outta the flashlight beams. There were the usual signs of walkers nearby; smears of blood on the floor and walls, that fuckin’ smell ya could never get outta yer nose, even chunks of flesh from the rottin’ fuckers. But we still hadn’t seen one, and I was fuckin’ worried.

“Almost got everything,” Y/N whispered to me, shoving a couple more bottles into her pack. “We just need to find the CPAP machine,” she murmured, staring down at the list. “I don’t have a fucking clue what the hell that looks like.” She glanced over at me, one of her eyebrows quirked in a question and I realized she was waitin’ for some kinda response.

“What? Yer lookin’ at me? I ain’t got a goddamn clue what the hell that even is,” I said gruffly. Shit. I saw it. Just for a second, but one corner of her lips twitched up in a smile and I swear there was a spark in her eyes—like the ones I used to see in her all the time. My heart jumped and I tried my best to ignore it. She seemed to turn away, hidin’ her face right as I was puzzlin’ over it.

“Right… well, let’s try down the hall. There’s probably another supply closet at the other end,” she said, nudging her head toward the darkness ahead.

We made our way cautiously. I pushed into the lead again and was surprised when she didn’t argue. I tried every door handle but most of ‘em just led to empty or trashed patient rooms. I caught her frozen in the doorway of one that had a massive bloodstain on the floor and spatter partially up the walls. Her eyes were wide and vacant, and I wondered what she was reliving. “Hey,” I said, just over her shoulder. She seemed to pull out of it abruptly and she turned away, moving on like nothin’ had happened. I let her go ahead, mainly so I could keep an eye on her for a minute and make sure she still had her head in the game, but I didn’t need to worry. Not about that anyway. She’d always been tough. She wasn’t shaken by shit easily. I knew that. And yet I still had this drive to want to protect her, even though she didn’t need it from me. And she definitely didn’t want it from me.

“Here,” she said suddenly, slinging her gun back on her shoulder and more fully opening the door to a small supply closet. There was hardly enough room for her to stand inside, so I posted up just behind her and strained my eyes and ears for anythin’. “It’s all electronic stuff,” she whispered, entirely focused at the task at hand. Her hands floated from one device to the next, illuminated by her flashlight. She was looking for some label or model number or somethin’ to tell her what they were. She bent down and grabbed some scattered papers from among the boxes on the floor. Swearing under her breath she held one up to the flashlight. “Of course the cover and all the useful shit in the front is torn off,” she muttered. She was bending down to grab another handful when there was some sudden, deep noise on the floor above us.

My heart seemed to stall out for a moment and she straightened up and froze, her eyes lifted toward the ceiling, lips partially parted. The sound seemed to reverberate through the building. I could feel it beneath my feet. It resonated through the walls. After a moment, I was looking at her and she glanced over and met my eyes, her eyebrows a little furrowed with worry.

“What the fuck was that?” she asked in a harsh whisper. I only shook my head. She gulped and refocused, shakin’ it off, focusing back on the papers. She was flipping page after page, scanning them as fast as she could.

I started to hear some more noises above us and then eventually spilling toward the other end of the hall. My grip on my crossbow tightened. “We need to move,” I said, keeping my voice low.

She was still intensely focused on the manual in her hands. “Just gimme a minute…” she said vaguely.

I shifted, turning more toward the far end of the hallway, straining my hearing. There was more clattering above us. “We might not have another damn minute.”

“Just—hold on—”

Fuck. I stood frozen for a moment as a herd of walkers started to spill out from the stairwell at the other end of the hallway and start toward us. “We ain’t got a minute, Y/N!” I urged in a harsh whisper. She didn’t seem to hear me.

There were more walkers than I could count. They hadn’t spotted us yet but I had to move fast, so I did the only damn thing I could think of and pushed her forward into the closet, pressing in after her and shutting the door as quietly as I could. I instinctively clicked my flashlight off and hurried to grab hers and do the same, plunging the two of us into darkness in that small space.

“Daryl, what the hell?!” she snapped at me. She’d been so focused she was completely oblivious to the mass of dead wandering our way. The goddamn closet was so small I had no choice but to be pressed into her… My heart started to pound and I think it had more to do with her against me than the undead assholes outside. I was sure she’d be able to feel it and prayed she’d just think it was adrenaline or somethin’. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

I shoved my hand over her mouth, all my patience gone. Did she really think I’d shoved her in a closet for the hell of it? “For once in yer goddamn life just shut up!” I growled in a low voice. She seemed to tense against me but in the quiet the sounds of the walkers outside the door were now easily heard above our ragged breathin’ and they were growing louder every second. I still had one hand over her mouth and the other clenching my crossbow at my side. She shifted against me and pulled my hand away. I could hear and feel her breathin’ pick up pace. I planted my palm on the wall behind her, next to her head, very aware of the growin’ heat pooling between the two of us where we were pressed together. The air felt suffocatin’. I started to worry the walkers outside the door would be able to hear my breathin’ I was so nervous. I wanted to shift, move away from her like I’m sure she wanted… I wanted to change positions and get my bow up, but it was impossible.

She didn’t seem to know where to put her arms within the tight, dark space. I couldn’t blame her. I was leaned in against her, sorta over her even. I felt her hand accidentally brush my arm and my body jolted a little at the contact, like some reflex I didn’t know I had. My teeth ground together. After that she seemed to settle away from me, into the wall behind her.

We had to just stay there, fuckin’ frozen, hardly room to breathe while the hoard passed by. Every once and a while, a body would thump hard against the door and I’d feel her flinch. I could feel sweat dripping down my neck and beading up on my face, my hair sticking to it. We were so close I could feel her breath against my skin when she faced toward me. I felt the rhythm of her breathin’. And I couldn’t ignore the fact that in that tiny ass closet, the only thing I could smell was the faint scent of her shampoo. I tried hard not to notice, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t try to put some name to the smell. Lavender? Not quite. Maybe more like rose? I dunno. And despite the possible death lurking just outside, I found it hard to focus on anythin' other than the feeling of her against me.

It felt like it took hours for the hoard to pass, but it was probably only ten minutes. But after the sounds drifted away we were still left with a big fuckin’ problem. They had to go somewhere, and my best guess was that they were travelin’ down.

It was so dark in there I couldn’t even tell if my fuckin’ eyes were open or closed, and it seemed to be makin’ it hard to think… Or maybe the angle of her one hip pressed into me was—fuck. Get it together, man… I fumbled for and clicked on my flashlight, findin' the two of us both wincin' at the sudden glare, noses almost touchin'. She was lookin’ up at me, her lips softly parted, her expression only full of concern for once, that little worry line she always gets near her eyebrow.

We both stayed like for a second. I guess just struck by actually seein’ how close we were in the sudden light, until finally she tore her eyes away and turned her head.

I tried to clear my throat, worried my voice was gonna come out soundin' strained or somethin’. “Uhh… sounded like they were goin’—”

“—down. Yeah,” she finished.

My eyes traced the angle of her jawline as she kept her face turned away from me. I heard the paper manual crinkle in her hand and groped for the doorknob behind me. “Yeah,” I agreed quietly. “So, we got a problem about gettin’ out.” My hand finally landed on the doorknob and I turned it and slowly opened the door on the hall, checking both directions carefully but also feelin’ like if I didn’t put some damn space between the two of us again I was about to explode. It looked clear and I stepped out. Glancin’ back, she still seemed frozen, up against the wall, her face turned away toward her shoulder so I couldn’t really get a read on her. “Hey. What is it?” I prompted her.

“Hmm?” She seemed to snap back to herself. “N—nothing…” She went back to searching the manual in her hand, like nothin’ had fuckin’ happened. Just one goddamn time I’d like to know what the fuck is goin’ on inside her head… But I ain’t got no right to that. She’s made that pretty fuckin’ clear.

It wasn’t the right manual or the right machine. But she went through two more until she found it. “Got it,” she announced, waving the paper at me before shoving it into her already full duffel bag. She seized a small machine from the shelf and started trying to rearrange items to make it fit in her pack.

“I got room,” I said, still nervously checkin’ over my shoulder. I thought I could hear the hoard moving below us, maybe two floors down.

“It’s fine. I can make it fit,” she said, jostling more stuff in her bag.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the damn thing from her, slinging my crossbow strap over my shoulder. “Ya’d really rather split yer pack at the seams than take any fuckin’ help from me,” I murmured. I didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t need one…

She stepped out of the closet and I caught her wiping her forearm across her forehead. It left a smear of dirt near her hairline. I had to pull myself back to the present. “So, how are we getting out of here?” she asked, adjusting her pack and the duffel bag strap on her shoulder.

I glanced at her, knowing she wasn’t gonna like my idea.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you’ve obviously got something. Just get on with it.”

“Fire escape,” I said.

I watched the muscle in her jaw twitch as he jaw clenched. “Fuckin’ great…”

“Unless ya got somethin’ else—”

“You know I don’t,” she snapped back at me. She wiped a hand across her forehead again, swiping away fresh drops of sweat. “It’s—” She cut herself off. “Let’s just go,” she sighed, defeated.

I looked at her for a second more, trying to gauge just how freaked out she was, but it didn’t seem to matter. We didn’t have any other options.

“Let’s go,” she snapped again. “Before I change my mind about being able to handle this.”

“It ain’t—”

She squeezed her eyes shut and I watched her body tense. “I swear to god, Dixon, if you say ‘It ain’t that bad’ or ‘It ain’t that high’ right now, I will lose my shit and attract every fucking walker in this goddamn building. I don’t even give a fuck.” Her jaw muscle twitched.

I couldn’t help letting out a sigh that was more of a growl than anything but then I turned and headed for the window a couple doors down that I’d noticed was busted out. Leaning through, I scanned the outside of the building for a fire escape. Nothing on that side.

“It’s probably around the other side. Let’s try the end of the hall,” she suggested. Her boots stayed rooted to the floor and I glanced at her again. She caught my eyes and must have read the concern on my face.

“I’m fine. You’re the last person I need worrying about me,” she growled.

Fuck. She could be infuriating… I found my hand clenching and unclenching a few times before I followed her back out of the room.

She was right. There was a fire escape down that side. I grabbed a piece of metal off the floor and straightened up. “Ya ready?” I asked one more time. “They might hear this glass break so we gotta fuckin’ move.” I thought her hands were a bit shaky.

“Just do it,” she said. And this time, I could hear the quiver in her voice.

I smashed the window and knocked out the glass before pullin' myself through. The metal grates rattled under my boots and she looked suddenly sick as she approached the window sill. I hesitated a second before reaching a hand out to help her through.

“I’m fine,” she said. She didn’t look fine, but she gripped the ledge and climbed out. “Oh, fuck. Fuck…” she muttered as her feet landed on the platform. She was keeping her eyes fixed straight out. Even just the metal grates at th prison used to freak her out, and that was one floor.

I wanted to comfort her but… I wasn’t dumb enough to think it’d help or that she wanted me to, so instead I just started down the stairs at a good pace. She followed stiffly behind me, gripping onto the railing with white knuckles and falling behind.

Every once and a while I’d glance back and she looked like she was about to be sick, but she was still following. We hit a snag as we reached the third-floor platform. A large part of it had rusted and fallen away, leaving a gaping hole we would have to edge around to reach the next set of stairs.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” I heard her behind me and when I looked back her eyes were wide and round and she was clutching onto the railing like it was a lifeline.

“S’fine. I’ll cross first. Just keep over—”

“Oh, really, Daryl? I should keep over to the side? You mean I should stay away from the huge fucking hole in the goddamn floor?” It kept drawing her eyes and I’d see her rip them back up and away, reeling.

I knew that was mostly coming from the fact that she was fuckin’ terrified, but every harsh word from her still stung. “Fine. Clearly, yer good,” I spat back. “Ya don’t need me and ya don’t give a shit and yer fine. I fuckin’ got it.” So much for trying to calm her down. I edged past the hole in the metal grating and went down the next set of stairs. Finally, I just had to push down the ladder, climb down, and we’d be on solid ground again. But when I looked back up, she was still frozen where she had been, on the far side of the platform. I watched her for another minute, waiting to see if she’d move. I knew she wasn’t gonna ask for help, not from me, but she obviously needed it and tough shit, I’m the only damn person here. I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck, anxious to even try again, and climbed back up. I edged past the rusted-out hole and stopped next to her. “Just gimme yer hand.” She didn’t loosen her grip on the railing, and her eyes landed on my face. “S’fine. Just for two seconds, lemme fuckin’ help ya.”

Her chest was heaving with fearful breaths and I guess the idea of tryin’ to cross along that edge alone was worse than puttin’ her hand in mine. Part of me still thought she’d take the heights over me, but she didn’t… She pried her hand off the railing and placed it into mine. I—I can’t say my heart didn’t jump when my fingers closed around it. The motorcycle. The fuckin’ closet. Now this. We’d hardly been within six feet of each other for years and now all this in one day… I felt dizzy. It ain’t like Rick could have predicted these things would happen. He sure as shit couldn’t command a hoard to force us into each other in a tiny closet… but he must have been hopin’ for somethin’ by sendin’ us out here. Was it gonna work on her? I fuckin’ doubt it.

As we stepped along the edge of the edge of the platform, she held her breath. She always seemed like nothing in this fucked up world scared her anymore, nothing phased her. Half the time it almost seemed like she didn’t give a shit if she died. But this? Heights? This still scared her on some level she couldn't reason away.

But we made it across just fine. She was gripping onto me so tightly I thought she might have bruised the bones in my damn hand. And as we climbed down the next set of stairs, long past the danger, she was still holding onto me. But just as quickly as I realized it, she slipped her hand out and stiffened next to me again, fixing her eyes away toward the railing, which she grabbed onto again desperately.

We made it down the ladder, dropping onto the concrete and making a run back to my bike, slippin' from cover to cover, packs heavy and weighing us down. I was thinking how batshit crazy it was that we’d just done a hospital run and hadn’t had to kill a single walker AND managed to get all the damn supplies... when we rounded the last corner and a string of curses left her mouth.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. What the fuck?!” She knelt down next to my bike and as I looked, my stomach dropped.

“Son of a fuckin' bitch.” Both tires on my motorcycle were slashed. Ruined. Fuck.

We were stranded in the city without a runnin’ vehicle and somebody knew we were here.

[ofshattermoxie]

Confusion; out of place. A feeling Jo was used to. She was built for the complicated, for the messy. She was built for the tears; to admit happiness wasn’t in the cards for her. She wanted to be the women that would never be torn up over a man. Especially when Jo worked so hard to reinvent herself; to make a career for herself. She didn’t like getting attached; Jo was the girl who dated the wrong guy, she tended to purposely sabotage herself because she was afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of being disappointed, but Alex he wore that smile of his so well. He was kind, he helped her when she never asked for it. Jo never wanted to fall in love again. She never wanted to find that happiness; one she never felt as if she deserved it. And two because if you fall in deep to the joy; embrace love you lean on another person you get burned. 

Alex Karev was suppose to be different. We shared a love so deep it consumed us. He fell first and that moment he said the words. “ I love you.” Jo felt joy instantly she couldn’t help but smile then and now at the memory. We got married; a future Jo paved forward thinking she had with him suddenly gone disappeared. Alex made the tough call; he ended our marriage without a word. One morning she felt the brush of his lips against her forehead, and she took in his scent for the last time. And the next he was gone. Lies spilled, he left me. He left me and I couldn’t breathe. I remembered the day so clearly; and I felt like my lungs closed up, that I was suffocating. Which is why I felt crazy now. Jo told herself she wanted closure; the only reason she wrote one letter to him. Never did she expect to hear back. To read more taunting words on paper. Not to hear his voice. It was easier to pretend it was over on paper, to pretend she didn’t feel that flutter in her chest each time she imagined him scribbling down the words to her. But now hearing his voice; all the love, the memories came racing back. 

Torn between heart and mind. Jo didn’t know what to say. Alex left, he closed our marriage. And yeah it was easy to fall into old habits; to trust him when he said he made a mistake. To believe him when he said all he and Izzy had were the kids. And deep down Jo understands. We both had troubled childhoods; we both were given an awful hand. But at the same time; she was angry at him for leaving. For not saying goodbye; for not giving her a choice in the matter. He had kids he never knew he did for 5 years. She felt awful for him; he missed 5 years of his twins lives; and now he was trying to be the devoted father; the guy that cheers you on; and she loved him completely for it. But it couldn’t stop the crushing ache in her heart. Holding the phone close to her ear; she held her breath almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“ Alex, I don’t know what you want me to say.. I understand why you left,  I understand you need to be there for the kids, and I would have supported you. What I don’t understand is how you can sit there and pretend you didn’t break me..” Pausing to gather her racing heart to pretend the break from forming in her tone. “ You can’t say you made a mistake and say me to want to see a picture of the kids, you took that choice from me Alex. I would’ve moved anywhere for you Alex, I would’ve loved those kids for you, made a life with you and them and even made it work with Izzie. But right now I don’t know..” It felt hard and complicated; and Alex was untrustworthy in her eyes; he broke her heart; and Jo was uncertain how to bring the pieces back together. Licking over her lips; she aired out two cents. 

“ If you want to be back in Seattle do it, you can decide what’s best for you Alex, but don’t come back for me, because I don’t know if this is worth fighting anymore; you made that choice for us.” A break in her; a last straw; she felt her body shake uttering the words; Only Alex could decide the next move.

@InsolentMedico 

Hurt; Jo was built for the hurt. She’s experienced the let down her whole life. From hoping for a family to take her in, from the disappointment she felt realizing she was on her own. She experienced feeling not enough, unwanted. It was her childhood. But at this age and how far she’s grown Jo realized what true undeniable love was about. Alex Karev showed her what it felt like to be loved and how hard you could love someone. He made her happy, smiling from ear to ear. He made her feel safe. He loved her despite all her history and flaws. It was an unconditional love Jo never experienced before him.

And even when he left; she felt as if she couldn’t breathe without him. It took weeks to understand; to know the why. Man she was so angry so mad at him for being a coward. His letter was the words she never thought he’d say. He broke every promise he ever said to her. A vow he made to never hurt her, to never abandon her. But he did. And at the time she took the time to process to accept he was gone. Once Meredith, and Bailey got their letters and the word for a new peds surgeon broke the whispers were like wildflies. The stares and talk of Alex Karev leaving her. Jo tired to pretend to focus on her work. But each night she came home to an empty loft; until she found a friend in Levi; he was the intern she slept with. But a good friend now that he wasn’t out to beat her; or flirt with her. Jo even hid the letters from her roommate here. She wanted to keep her litter conversations with Alex a secret. At the time when she wrote that first letter it was a way of grieving the life she wanted. The future she thought she had. And now she was forced to pick up her own pieces. One letter led to Alex responding. It was a shock each time she received a letter. It was supposed to be therapeutic for the brunette; easier to let go. But instead it only made her keep writing; his words. His mind on why he left; on what was going through that head of his now. 

It captivated her forward. Jo kept telling herself no. He left you. He picked a new family; the family you never gave him. It was a pep talk to convince herself that it was in her best interest to let him go. But now; as she stared down at his letter. The words he spoke; the love drawn onto the page it made Jo be impulsive. It made her call. But did she believe he’d answer? No not after all the times he dogged her call.  Even when she was that pathetic girl on the phone begging to hear his voice. Begging for him to answer; to give answers as to why he lied; why he disappeared. If he was okay. All she got was silence; so yeah color her surprised when the dial broke; his breathing was heard followed by his voice. 

The voice she longed to hear. The voice that always made her smile; always made her miss him more. Jo never held back; it made her angry to feel love but also feel his abandonment. So it was no surprise to hear herself speak back to him. To call him out for his crap. It was a trait Jo was aware he always adored about her. 

“ Sure it doesn’t.. Alex there was like a billion other ways you could’ve gone about this. About handling the news you had kids. You don’t just abandon the life you were building..” Angry and hurt shown in her voice. Holding the phone tightly in her grasp the brunette let her eyes close taking in the memory of his voice. Even if it hurt to have this conversation. 

She missed him; he still knew how to make her heart skip a beat. Rolling her eyes at his words. “ Because I’m the one not afraid to tell you when you’ve messed up Alex.” Pausing briefly before she geared herself to say her next words. “ If you really think I wouldn’t of supported you when you found out then  maybe all these years were a waste of time. I would’ve wanted  the kids because they were yours. I would’ve supported you. I’m not angry because of the situation. I’m angry because of the little respect and credit you’ve given me..” Words hurt; and yeah her intention was to hurt him. He ripped her apart; and basically wrecked  her. 

And now Jo hung on by a thread.

[zodiakuroo]

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences.  That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would.  Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice  that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours.  Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots  that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine.  You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle.  Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea.  He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.  

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it.  He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”.  All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”  

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt.  You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.  

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

[fruitcoops]

this gave me a lot of thoughts...

So, Sirius started off quiet and antisocial (I'm calling this Phase 1), then got closer to the team but still found it hard to be a good captain because he didn't want them to dislike him (Phase 2, seen here) and then he got comfortable and settled in the team in his role as Captain and everything is great (Phase 3, pre-Coops).

THEN Coops happens (Phase 4), so could you write something about Sirius' Captaincy being affected again because it's kinda difficult to take your grownass leader seriously when he's making the softest heart eyes at the PT in the corner, and trailing off his sentence when said PT bends over to pick up a roll of tape...

#dont tell me the team wouldn't absolutely tear into him #obviously they still respect the shit outta him #but they'd totally tease him about it too

First of all, thank you for this incredible analysis, because it absolutely made my night! Second of all, 100% yes. This is a bit short since I had to write it on my phone, but it was fun to write some silly fluff! Thanks again for the prompt! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for teasing innuendo

“He’s doing it again,” James singsonged under his breath; Talker stifled a laugh in the spout of his water bottle. “It’s a great ass and all, but c’mon.”

“I can hear you,” Sirius said mildly without sparing them a glance. Across the bench, Remus located his lost roll of tape and straightened up with a satisfied smile—it took everything in James’ body not to burst into hysterics at the genuine disappointment on Sirius’ face.

“You know you’re allowed to touch his butt whenever you want, now, right?” Talker informed him with great gravity.

Remus frowned as he wandered over, tossing and catching his stick tape like a baseball. “Whose butt are we touching?”

“Yours.”

“Ah. I would say ‘yes’, but I have no idea where Pots’ hands have been.” He kissed the top of Sirius’ head before settling on his lap with a slow exhale.

Talker stuck his lower lip out in a dramatic pout. “Can I still touch your butt?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” The devious mischief in his eyes was a sharp contrast to his general nonchalance.

Sirius’ threatening look toward them faded as he propped his chin on Remus’ shoulder. “What about me?”

“Hmm. Nah.”

“What?” he spluttered as James bit back a laugh at the last possible second. Talker nearly snorted his water out his nose.

“Sorry, baby, he’s adorable,” Remus said with false sympathy.

“So am I!” When Remus didn’t respond, the furrow between his brows deepened. “I still win, because I’m the only one that gets to kiss you.”

“Are you sure?” Talker teased, wiggling his eyebrows; Remus winked. With a scowl, Sirius’ hold on his waist tightened.

“Alright, Cap, we get it,” James groaned as he weighed whether or not he would get a toothache from the sweetness. “You’re in love, it’s cute, you’re both very ooey-gooey.”

“That’s rich coming from—”

“Yeah, Cap,” Remus interrupted with barely-hidden amusement twitching the edge of his mouth. Sirius’ pupils dilated. “You have an example to set.”

James felt his gleeful smile spreading before he even realized he was doing it. “Is that right, Cap?”

“Shut up,” Sirius gritted out, his faintly pink cheeks turning vivid red as he put his hand over Remus’ mouth. Too late, James thought. His mind was already racing with elation.

“I like where this is going,” Talker said giddily.

“Get back on the ice.”

“Sure thing, captain.”

Remus’ troublemaker grin had not diminished by a single degree as Sirius buried his face between his shoulder blades with a groan. “Aw, baby, are they being mean to you?”

“You’re all running laps.”

“Yes, captain,” Talker said, tacking a breathy moan on to the end—James gave up on containing his giggles in one fell swoop.

Remus shot them a quick look before turning to address the big, scary captain who was still hiding in the back of his sweater. “If I let you touch my butt, do I still have to run laps?”

A few beats of silence passed. “…an exception can be made.”

“What about mine?” James offered once he caught his breath. “It’s got a good firmness to it, in my personal—“

“James Fleamont Potter.” Sirius raised his head just enough to glare. “If my hand comes anywhere near your ass, assume I’m either drunk as shit, or that I thought you were literally anyone else.”

James blew him a kiss. “Oh, talk dirty to me, captain.”

The sound of Remus and Talker’s laughter ringing throughout the empty rink more than made up for the burning in his legs, lungs, and joints later that evening. He would run a million laps if it meant bringing that particular shade of fire engine crimson to Sirius’ face long enough to snap a picture.

[extasiswings]

“i’ll keep you warm” eddie has a nightmare post-shooting 👀 (or however you wanna write it!)

This was not supposed to be this long...rated M-ish for some mild smut at the end. On ao3 here.

The thing Eddie remembers most about the shooting isn’t the shot itself, or the pain, or even the fear—it’s the cold. The icy numbness of shock curling down his spine, twisting through his veins like tendrils of frost creeping across a windowpane in winter. Cold, as his pulse skyrocketed, his body’s signals all crossed and confused and trying to circulate blood, not seeming to grasp the fact that his blood was seeping out onto the asphalt beneath him, that trying to circulate it faster was just making it worse. Cold, like he was a stupid kid at camp diving into a frigid lake before dawn, except above him was blue sky and a bright sun beating down and the fact that it was Los Angeles in May didn’t do a damn thing to help.

He couldn’t feel it. He could only feel the cold.

Buck, though—Buck, he felt. Buck’s hands burned, on his chest, his neck, his face, so warm that Eddie almost wanted to flinch away, but he didn’t. He was aware enough to realize that if Buck was warm, he was probably telling the truth when he said he wasn’t hurt. And that was good. That was all he needed to know.

The cold—

Eddie’s been through enough in his life to know that his subconscious works in weird ways. After Afghanistan he dreamed more directly of burning helicopters and gunfire, blood in his mouth and smoke on his tongue. Shadows and screams and guilt. After the well his dreams were of Christopher, Shannon, waves crashing on a beach. And Buck. Sunlight.

This time...this time Eddie dreams of drowning. Trapped beneath ice, his hands slamming against it, eventually forced to inhale—water flooding his mouth, his throat, his lungs—cold, cold, cold—

Sometimes after he wakes he’ll spend hours shivering. Phantom chills that won’t go away even when he wraps himself in blankets.

The therapist he’s mandated to see before he can be cleared for work tells him that the brain doesn’t always process trauma by taking the most direct path. Eddie doesn’t know why his has fixated on this. The cold. Maybe it’s just easiest. Because the shooting—

His chest gets tight when he’s walking in open air. Sweat breaks out across his brow when the sunlight glints off of windows. His pulse races.

He can’t breathe.

It feels a little like drowning.

“Do you feel safe?” Dr. Kingston asks one session. And Eddie thinks about freezing in a grocery store parking lot, gripping the edge of a cart to keep his hands from shaking, thinks about Buck curving a hand around his shoulder, solid and warm—

“Sometimes,” Eddie admits. “It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

He tastes the lie on his tongue before it slips out.

“I don’t know.”

*

When the world shut down and Eddie had to leave Christopher with his abuela so that he could keep working without worrying constantly that he was putting his son at risk, Buck’s was the obvious place to go. And Eddie doesn’t know if things would have been different if it had been just the two of them but Hen and Chim deciding it was also the obvious place for them to go meant there weren’t a lot of options for sleeping arrangements.

So Eddie shared the bed with Buck. And it didn’t matter if either of them wound up wrapped around the other, the lines of their bodies pressed close enough to bleed together. If they curled into one another like plants twisting to find the light.

It was...instinct. To seek comfort. Warmth. Touch. Both of them alone for so long, and just needing—

Needing.

They never talked about it—there wasn’t anything to talk about. If it made Eddie’s heart race, if it made him ache for something he hadn’t expected and didn’t wholly understand, if when he returned home alone again his own bed felt too empty, that was his own problem.

Now, though—

Now, he knows. Because he stood frozen on the street and stared at Buck with Carla’s words in his head—make sure you’re following your heart—and realized oh. It hadn’t just been convenience, it had been love. Need and desire and love.

Now, he knows, but doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge, with the awareness he has suddenly. Buck is living in his house, in his space, helping him with Christopher and with his own recovery, making sure he takes his meds and gets to his appointments and does his exercises. Buck is there all the time and it’s a blessing and a curse because Eddie burns whenever Buck touches him.

And Buck touches him. A lot.

He hadn’t at first, right after Eddie came home from the hospital—Eddie would catch him sometimes looking like he wanted to, but holding back, reaching out but stopping himself, and Eddie never asked why. Even now he doesn’t think he ever needed to—he knows what it’s like to be afraid, to be unsteady, adrift, worrying that touching something you expect to be solid will reveal it’s just an illusion. Not wanting to find out if it is.

But Buck touches him now. And sometimes Eddie will wake up to find that Buck’s migrated from the couch in the living room to a chair by his bed, folded in and fitfully asleep. Buck never says, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s so Buck can reassure himself that Eddie’s still breathing.

Eddie understands that need too. Sometimes he isn’t sure himself.

The first time it happens after Buck’s relationship with Taylor has flamed out—for himself, he and Ana have been over since just after he left the hospital—Eddie finally just gets up.

“Buck.” He curves a hand around the side of Buck’s neck and passes his thumb along the edge of his jaw.

Buck startles awake, looking somehow guilty.

“I didn’t wake you up, did I? Sorry, I know it’s—I can go back to the—”

“Will you just come to bed?” Eddie interrupts before Buck successfully talks himself into leaving the room. “Please?”

Buck’s eyes flick down to his shoulder. He swallows hard.

“I don’t want to—”

Oh.

“You won’t hurt me,” Eddie promises. “Okay?”

Buck searches his face in the dark, but if he sees anything, he clearly doesn’t mind because he nods and gets up from the chair. When they both resettle on the mattress, Buck only pauses for a moment before curving around him like a parenthesis, his arm falling across Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“Is this—?”

Eddie closes his eyes and sinks into the embrace. If it feels just a little bit like cheating because he hasn't told Buck how he feels, that’s between him and god.

“It’s fine,” he assures, then adds to make it a little more fair, “you aren’t the only one who needs—you aren’t the only one.”

Buck relaxes at that, his grip tightening a little with newfound certainty.

When Eddie dreams, he doesn’t drown.

*

“You look good,” Dr. Kingston acknowledges two weeks later. “You’ve been sleeping better?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “I stopped having nightmares, so I haven’t been waking up as much.”

He catches the surprise that flickers across her face.

“They stopped completely?” She asks. “Have you been doing something different or—?”

Eddie shifts in his chair and clears his throat. What is he supposed to tell her? That he stopped having nightmares when he started sleeping with Buck every night? He’s not really ready to unpack that with his therapist—he’s barely ready to unpack it in his own head.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he says. Dr. Kingston puts down her pen and levels him with a long look that tells him she knows that’s bullshit and is trying to decide whether to push or let it go until another time.

She lets it go.

“Well,” she replies. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Eddie feels like he’s dodged another bullet.

Later, though, he wonders if he shouldn’t have said more. If he shouldn’t have asked questions. Because he goes to sleep and—

The water is pitch black and freezing. Eddie’s eyes sting, but it doesn’t matter whether he keeps them open or not—there’s nothing to see. He kicks his legs anyway, swims up, up, up, even though it hurts to make his limbs work when they’re so cold. There’s a faint light—the surface—and he kicks harder, desperate to reach—

Ice. Nothing but a sheet of ice, solid and thick. His lungs burn from lack of air, his palms beat against the ice—

He can’t keep moving. It’s too cold. He can’t—

“Eddie. Eddie.” Hands seize him from nowhere, almost too warm, and Eddie could have sworn the ice had no cracks, but he’s being lifted out—

“Eddie.”

He snaps awake, gasping. Buck’s face swims into view, worry painted across every line. His hands are on Eddie’s shoulders.

They’re so warm.

Eddie shivers.

“You were hyperventilating,” Buck says. “I thought—”

“Just a dream,” Eddie grits out, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. He still feels frozen. Stupid—it was a dream, it wasn’t real, so he shouldn’t—it shouldn’t be this difficult.

He shivers again.

Buck’s brow furrows deeper.

“You’re shaking—are you cold?”

Eddie sits up and scrubs his hands over his face. He swallows back the denial on his tongue, the urge to run away and hide in the bathroom until a scalding shower makes him feel somewhat human again. Maybe he can’t always be honest with his therapist, but he can be honest with Buck.

“Yes,” he admits. “But it’s not—it’s just in my head. When I got shot I—it’s hard to explain but, yes. I’m cold. Freezing. I don’t know how—”

He cuts off and Buck shifts on the mattress, reaches out slowly so Eddie has plenty of time to stop him if he doesn’t want to be touched, and finally wraps his arms around him, pulling Eddie firmly against his chest.

“I’ll keep you warm,” Buck says quietly. And Eddie—

Something in him cracks. Not like ice during a thaw, but resolve after too much time of being worn down, pressure applied in precisely the right spot. He’s raw and ragged and his scarred heart hardly feels like anything anyone should want, but he’s so tired of pretending he hasn’t been trying to press it into Buck’s hands for a year in different ways. He’s tired of not asking and being afraid and waiting. He’s tired—

Buck makes a soft sound of surprise when Eddie kisses him. But he doesn’t push him away. And Eddie can’t help himself from pressing closer, curling one hand into Buck’s shirt and the other around the back of his neck and kissing him again and again and again, feeling altogether too frantic. He’ll probably find it in himself to be embarrassed in the morning, but want and desperation have left very little room for shame at the moment.

Buck kisses him back. His hands drop to Eddie’s hips as Eddie does his best to climb into his lap.

“Eddie,” Buck pants between kisses. “Eddie—I—” His head falls back and Eddie takes the opportunity to continue his exploration down the exposed line of Buck’s neck.

“Should we talk about this?” Buck finally manages, even as his own hands flirt with the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie freezes. The answer, of course, is yes. But talking is the last thing he wants to do when part of him still feels chilled to the bone, not wholly alive. He wants to be touched, wants to be consumed, wants to fall into orbit around Buck’s sun and never leave.

And it’s late. Dark. The two of them, the bed, the very room caught in a liminal space where anything could happen, anything could be said, anything could be forgiven. Eddie can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a dangerous one.

His mouth drags along the edge of Buck’s jaw.

“This isn’t because I wanted someone and you happened to be here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He doesn’t look at Buck’s face. It’s easier to not, to focus on something else. He stopped going to confession a long time ago, but he never had to look directly at his priest either, always some curtain or other barrier obscuring things, lending the illusion of privacy, anonymity.

“I’m in love with you,” he admits, and Buck’s hands flex on his hips. “I’ve been in love with you. So we can talk about this if you want, but—”

In an instant, Eddie’s on his back, the rest of his sentence swallowed up by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Buck is a warm, solid weight on top of him, pinning him, anchoring him, and Eddie finds he doesn’t mind when it forces him to be in the moment, reminds him that he’s fully in his own body.

“I love you, too,” Buck whispers when the kiss breaks, and then he’s pushing Eddie’s shirt up and off and dispensing with his own—

Shannon was his first. Eddie wasn’t hers and he remembers being glad that at least one of them had some idea of what to do because the second she touched him he was so overwhelmed by sensation that he could hardly think.

This is…not dissimilar. Buck’s chest presses flush against his, all warm, bare skin, and Eddie feels like he could drown in a different way. He arches up, seeking Buck’s mouth again, and Buck obliges.

Eddie’s focus narrows to certain points—the slick slide of Buck’s tongue against his, Buck’s hand ghosting along his ribs, the careful space between their hips and the low burn of heat in his gut that makes him want to close the gap—

His hands slide up Buck’s back slowly, his fingers tracing the knobs of Buck’s spine, the sharp edges of his shoulder blades—they dance along the line of his shoulders too, sketching the breadth that he’s noticed but never allowed his thoughts to linger on. His touch is careful, reverent, as if Buck is a holy thing that his stained, sinner hands have no business touching. Perhaps, in a sense that’s true.

He’s never been a very good Catholic, but sex—sex, desire, love—sex has always been something…sacred to him. In high school, he shied away from the locker room-style conversations about who went how far with whom, kept out of any discussion involving lamentations about still being a virgin at graduation. For one thing, he thought they were usually crass and disrespectful. But mainly he just—he didn’t care about waiting until marriage or anything like that, but he always knew he wanted to be in love. Hence, Shannon. And why there hadn’t been anyone after her.

Until now.

Eddie kisses Buck until his lungs ache, but he’s not close enough, feels like he can’t get close enough. One of his hands slides into Buck’s hair, but the other trails back down, presses lightly on Buck’s lower back as his own hips rock up, seeking friction. Buck swears against his lips and closes the distance—Eddie can feel him hard in his sweatpants and flushes, dizzy at the thought of having made that happen, dizzy at the thought of more, dizzy—

He feels very much like a clumsy teenager again, fumbling his way through on instinct. At least this sort of thing is familiar, even if he hasn’t done it with a man before. Buck grinds their hips together, the friction sending sparks through every one of Eddie’s nerve endings, and kisses down his neck, teeth scraping over his pulse point. Eddie gasps and Buck hums, low and pleased, against his skin.

And then, just as he thinks he’s used to the slow burn of pleasure, Buck shifts his weight and slides a hand down to toy with Eddie’s waistband. Buck meets his eyes in the dark and swallows hard.

“Can I—?”

This time, when Eddie shivers it has nothing to do with the cold.

“Please,” he rasps, and Buck smiles before tugging Eddie’s pants down just enough to wrap his hand around Eddie’s cock.

Buck’s touch is a little tentative at first, clearly unused to the angle, and the part of Eddie that’s still capable of noticing that spends a brief moment feeling grateful that he’s not the only one lacking in experience here. But what Buck may lack in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm, experimenting with grip and speed and pressure to figure out exactly what to do to make Eddie gasp again, to make him bite his lip, to make him hide his face in Buck’s shoulder to muffle any louder noises he can’t quite hold back.

It doesn’t take long. Even before the shooting, Eddie rarely bothered to touch himself with any sort of regularity, and during his recovery he had even less of a reason to do so, what little energy he had in the first few months better spent elsewhere. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed it. But clearly his body did because his orgasm hits him like a train when Buck spits into his hand for extra glide and twists his wrist on the upstroke. He bites Buck’s shoulder and Buck’s hips jerk and then he’s just floating—boneless, breathless, and utterly wrecked in the best possible way.

Buck collapses on the mattress next to him as Eddie’s catching his breath—Eddie reaches out, his hand skating over Buck’s stomach, and makes a questioning noise. Buck laughs quietly and catches his hand, bringing it to his lips.

“I, uh—I’m good,” Buck promises, and even in the dark Eddie can see his cheeks flush.

Eddie curls into his side. “Really?”

Buck kisses him. “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve wanted to do that. Or how good you look. So, yes, I already—yes. Really.”

Eddie’s lips curve up. He presses a kiss to the edge of Buck’s jaw. As the immediate aftermath wears off, his eyelids start to grow heavy, his limbs moving a little less easily.

“We should probably shower,” he acknowledges, although the strength of the statement is likely diminished by the yawn that interrupts him halfway through.

“Probably,” Buck agrees, but he too makes no move to actually get up.

Pressed against him as he is, Eddie is warm and sated and content. He drifts, skirting the edge of sleep.

“I love you,” he says again. Because it feels important.

Buck hums. If he says something else, it’s too low for Eddie to catch.

When he dreams again, he doesn’t dream of drowning. He doesn’t dream of the cold.

Instead, there’s just light. Just warmth.

Just Buck.

[spideyspeaches]

Take me to Church ↬ a.r

requested by @merceret​: Arvin and cheerleader!Reader sneak off during the night and have smut in his car in the woods? 👀🙃

A/N: this is a repost from my old account!

Warnings: unprotected semi-public sex ( *whispers* they do it in a caaaar 👀 also don’t be a loner, cover your boner ✌🏽✌🏽 ) LOT OF SPOILERS IN THIS!! Bad attempt at writing like a 64 year old man from Ohio.

MINORS DNI

WC: 1.5k

Pairing: Arvin Russell x Cheerleader!Reader

Masterlist || taglist

Arvin was a smart boy. He had been told that countless times by his mother before the godforsaken disease took her away, and his daddy too, before he started beating the shit out of him.

He didn’t doubt that a minute in his life, but then he grew up, wondering what went wrong. He was not the same doe eyed boy anymore. He liked to think that he was strong, not like his daddy used to tell him before a good spanking.And he definitely wasn’t a sinner, no, he was just a victim of God’s wrath. It wasn’t his fault that the boys made fun of his sister, they all deserve the beating they got.

Breathing in the cigarette, he blew out the smoke before it could burn his lungs, or kill him from the same disease that killed his ma. He was sitting on the front porch of his school, watching as people went by. The jocks wandering around the field, some of the artistic ones sketching while eating their lunches, and then there was the cheerleading squad.

He watched. It’s what he did a lot. He watched as cancer took his mother, he watched the way the fake Preacher looked at Lenora.

“You know, one of those sticks take six minutes of your life.” A voice spoke behind him. You sat besides him, your cheerleader costume showing your smooth legs and your pretty smile, hair done in an updo.

“And how would you know that?” He smirked, looking you up as you blush. God you looked so pretty, blushing like that. He watched you too. How you would roam the halls with your pom poms and those pompous sons of bitches that teased his sister. But it was never You. You were a sweet little girl, always got As in all your tests and all.

“I always tell that to my daddy to get him to quit. Tell him that it’s six minutes less he gets to spend with me.” You said, taking the stick from his hand and smashing the butt on the ground. You fiddled with your skirt, accidentally hiking it up your thigh.

“Did he listen?” He asked, looking at You as You smiled.

“No.”

He looked at you again. You were looking at him with your shiny eyes, all innocent and bright. He wondered what you would say when he fucked you hard against his old car, scoring through the woods and scream his name until you were sore. Shaking himself from his head, he saw you biting your lips. He wasn’t even sure You liked him like that.

Craving for another smoke, he fiddled with his hands, taking your hands instead, looking for a reaction. You didn’t snatch it back, but instead, straddled his lap to pull him into a heated kiss. Your nails scraped at his hair, the smooth strands getting ruffled up as you push your lips on his, uncaring of the others around them.

You moaned against his mouth, the sound going straight South. Taking your waist, he squeezed them lightly, crazy happy that he was making out with You, Y/N L/N, under the bleachers like some cheesy films like those in the Carnivals.

“You wanna ditch class?” He asked after sometime, heaving for a breath as you licked your swollen lips. Your makeup was a little smeared, but You still looked beautiful. His heart sped up, uncharacteristically, a strange rush of excitement flooding his veins.

“Yeah. How bout the woods?” You said, getting off from his lap. He was glad the ground was almost empty, wouldn’t want to get caught by some old janitor or a nosy freshman.

“Sounds good to me.” He said and crashed his lips into hers to steal another kiss.

                                      _______________________

“Oh! this is good” You whimpered as he slammed your back to the hood of his car, gripping you in his strong hold as the cicadas and crickets chirped, the bright sun hitting your naked chest through the windows, making it slick with sweat. You were in a forest, and were sure that no one would come now, and with the noises you were making? No one would dare come near the shaking car.

Kissing him with your swollen lips, you gripped his muscular back as he nipped you, eliciting another moan from you. He grabbed your legs, hiking up the skirt that you were still wearing. God the damned skirt, you wanted it out of your way. Slipping your hands to unlatch it, you were stopped by his hands as he slid his own on your clothed pussy. Stripping you, your breath hitched as he inserted two fingers, your clit slicked with pleasure.

“Ohh Arvin, hmm.” You breathed into his ears, enjoying the way he shuddered when you said his name. Pulling for a moment, he looked you up and down before removing his boxers awkwardly, head slanting because of the roof, his thick cock springing out like nobody’s business, making you clench your thighs.

Shoving your thighs, you hooked your legs around him, pulling him down as he slid in your entrance. “Are you sure?” He breathed as you nodded in response, stroking his chest that made him clench, his abs more visible under the sunlight.

“Come on baby, I’m waiting.” You teased, scratching your nails along the V of his stomach. Arching your back, you grunted as he thrusted into you, your walls closing in as your hips clashed against each other.

“You like that baby girl? Like it when I’m inside you?” He cooed, making your stomach coil in pleasure. Momentarily, you gave up the sweet girl facade, your heart racing as if you had run a marathon. How could it be tame? when he was inside you, making you feel all kinds of things?

“Yes, I do Arvin, oh Jesus you’re amazing!” You jerked. You weren’t sure when you had had such a good fuck before, and sure enough never this fast had you reached your high. And Arvin? Jesus, he was a sight for sore eyes, his eyes clenched as he pushed inside your walls, hitting your g-spot, making you gasp in pleasure. His muscled chest vibrating as you felt your stomach tighten.

“Saying God’s name like that while we’re fucking? You wanna be a bad girl now?” He smirked later, not really meaning what he said. If it meant that you would be saying his name with that pretty mouth of yours, he wouldn’t mind it.

“This is not sin, baby, this is pleasure. Call it what you want but I said what I said.” You drawled, pulling yourself up, his hard dick still inside you as you sat up, taking his face in your hands and hovering your lips over his. “You’re so sweet Arvin, you wanna fuck again?”

“I would love to.” He said shakily, leaning forward to capture your lips again. You dance along like that, him kissing your mouth, and your neck, then your breasts, leaving marks all over you, The Backstreet Boys playing on the junk radio of his car. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“And you have the prettiest little lips.” You said, holding his chin and delicately caressing his soft lips and leaning in for another kiss.

                                 ____________________________

The next day you saw him again, acid washed jacket and backwards cap, striped T-shirt that fit him quite snugly. He was walking with the girl again, the girl who the boys teased relentlessly. You didn’t understand why they did so, make a poor girl question herself when those whores out there were just as bad. Lenora was a sweet girl, you liked her.

Running towards him, you quickly fixed your sweater and skirt, taming the strands near your shoulder.

“Hey Arvin!” You said nervously. He had been a gentleman to you. He looked up smiling, telling Lenora to make her way as you, lighting a smoke on his way. Scowling, you took the stick out of his mouth.

Looking down, he smiled, “Hey Y/N.”

He was fiddling with his fingers again. You took his hands in yours, tracing the veins on his arms. You saw his pupils inflate like a balloon.

“So um, do you have practice today?” He asked, biting his bottom lip and giving you a tentative smile.

“Nah, coach called in sick today. Do you wanna go to Mickey-D’s?” You ask. The school lane was almost empty now, buses leaving to drop off the kids.

“Sure, I don’t have no work today anyways.” He stuffed his hands in his pocket. He was a handsome boy, and you felt extremely lucky that someone like him had asked you to do him in the backseat of a car. Not only that but he was sweet but not enough to not stand up for himself or the others. With a start, you realised that he wasn’t like the other boys in your school.

Handing him his smoke back, you let your hands linger on his shoulder for a moment, cupping his cheek. You leaned in, feeling his hands twitch, and kissed him. It felt nice.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Kenickie Murdoch

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You never really cared about social classes or what people chose to wear. In theory, you didn’t mind greasers; you’d actually been quite fond of them at your old school. You just didn’t like the greasers at Rydell. 

- Your family moved houses during your senior year and since Rydell was much closer than the school you’d been going to for the past three years, your parents chose to enroll you there instead. 

- Fast forward to your first day at school. Coincidentally, you ended up on the same bus as Patty Simcox, who enthusiastically took it upon herself to become your tour guide. 

- The minute you stepped foot into the schools parking lot, her eyes zeroed in on a group of boys who were stood near the front of the school. You glanced over and asked if something was wrong. Her response was to warn you about “the T-Birds” and the other greaser/delinquent groups in the school. 

- You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and assured her you would, mainly to change the subject. You hadn’t really intended to avoid the kids, well, up until you got your first real look at them. 

- Greasers started trouble at your old school, but it was always with people who either deserved it or were willing to fight back. This; you watched as the group of boys teased “Eugene”, wasn’t the same. You shook your head and made your way to your first period class, realizing that it was probably good to stay away from these delinquents. 

- But alas, that would prove to be quite difficult. Kenickie was in; at least, one of your classes; he could have been in more considering you were sure he cut half of them that day. And he seemed to take a liking to you the moment he walked in; late, to class. 

- You could feel him burning holes into the side of your head and when you finally glanced towards him, he gave you a small crooked grin. You rolled your eyes and turned away, intent on ignoring him for the rest of the period. He didn’t like that. 

- Throughout the period, which was filled with first day “fun” activities, he became increasingly bothersome with his attempts to garner your attention. Tapping his fingers, tapping his foot, dropping a textbook “on accident”, making loud jokes. You accidentally chuckled at one of them and were immediately met with a grin and wink once you snuck a glance at him. 

- The bell chimed and you picked up your things, making your way out of class quickly, hoping to leave him in the dust. You had no such luck as he seemed to be hot on your tail, matching your pace as he uttered his first words to you. 

“Haven’t seen you around here.”

“Maybe you haven’t looked hard enough.”

“Believe me, I’d remember a face like yours.” 

“Well maybe you should try and forget it.” You told him just as you entered your next class, leaving him standing in the doorway; a determined look plastered across his face. This wouldn’t be the end of it. 

- For the next few months, Kenickie would do everything he could to get you to acknowledge him. Teasing, flirting, complimenting, peacocking, playing it cool; you name it.  

- Going to hang out somewhere? He always just happens to be there, catching your eye as he enters the room. If you go to walk past him, he’ll block you with his legs, making you stop and speak to him; if only to say an exasperated excuse me, as you wait. 

- Waiting outside for someone? Well so is he. Hey, it isn’t his fault that you’re stood in a popular place that his friends always meet at …but while you’re here, why doesn’t he buy you a coke or something? 

- It’s not that you hated him. Sure, he annoyed you and could be a real jerk when he wanted to be but you didn’t hate him. A part of you even liked him and his attention, but you also knew that it probably wasn’t in your best interest to be interested in him. 

- Ever since you came to the school, all you ever heard about was how him and his friends did this or how him and his friends did that. Watch out for Kenickie. Oh can you guess who Kenickie parked with last night. Some of  it seemed exciting and he was certainly handsome, but he was also trouble and that was the last thing you needed, wasn’t it? 

- Unfortunately for you, Kenickie wasn’t keen on giving up and your resolve was beginning to break. His flirtation took a less obnoxious turn, it even started sounding sweet and soon enough you had to admit that he’d wormed his way into your heart. 

- It was after school one day, you were sat in the nearly empty courtyard, reading a book and enjoying the sun. After a while, you heard boots scraping slightly on the concrete behind you, the noise getting closer and closer until you heard your name. You immediately knew who it was. 

“Kenickie?” You asked, turning to look at him.

- He locked eyes with you for a moment, looking as though he really wanted to say something before he glanced up. His eyes scanned over the five people who were sat in the courtyard around you, his teeth nibbling anxiously at his bottom lip. 

“C’mon, I gotta talk to you.” He said, taking you by the arm and pulling you out of your seat, dragging you behind him as he walked to a totally deserted area behind the school. 

- The two of you stopped short and you watched him as he turned towards you. He was acting …strangely. Was he sick? Was he on something? You were about to say something when he finally spoke. 

“Y/n? You know how I’m always messin with ya?” He tugged at his collar, his eyes darting around, moving from the ground to your face and back to the ground again. “And how I- How I’ve, well, you know. How I’ve been messin with ya. 

- Listening to him ramble, it took you a minute but you finally realized what was going on. The Kenickie Murdoch …was nervous. 

- The thought flattered you more than anything. The tough greaser of your school was getting genuinely flustered and it was because of you. 

- His eyes landed on you for a long moment, his words coming to a stop as he seemed to mull over what he should say. Finally, he looked to his feet and spoke, his voice so low that you almost didn’t hear what he said.

“Well, I like you and I wanted to know if you, maybe, liked me too.” He gazed into your eyes once he’d finished, an uncharacteristic vulnerability lingering inside his baby blues. 

- You felt yourself begin to smile, butterflies fluttering inside your stomach as you tried to think of how to respond. Simple seemed like the way to go.

“Yeah,” You said softly, smiling up at him. “Yeah, I like you.”

- A big grin spread across his face, his nerves leaving him in an excited chuckle as he gripped your bicep and gave it a gentle push. Biting his lip as he smiled, his hand moved at his side as though he were banging it against something, before realizing he probably looked like a big goof. 

“Great,” He cleared his throat. “Good. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

- Your first date was at the drive-in theater. You don’t know how hard it was for him to not make a move on you. If you ever noticed him suddenly stiffen, it was because he was willing himself not to reach down and touch your boob or lunge across his center console and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. You’re a lady, he can’t do that! Bad Kenickie! Bad!

- Knowing his reputation, you chose to make him wait a little and anticipate your first kiss. So the two of you kissed for the first time on your fourth date. But believe me, he tried to smooch you before then.

- The two of you had gone to Frosty’s palace for a shake and after you were finished, he drove the two of you to “makeout point”. He tried to act innocent when you gave him a look but he wasn’t fooling anyone. You rolled your eyes as he drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, uttering out a “come on” and smiling as he dove to connect your lips.

- Well, now that you have him, you won’t be able to get rid of him anytime soon. Not that you want to.

- Pda? All the time baby. You’re his girl and he’s gotta show it …just no goo goo ga ga stuff. He’s got a tough greaser reputation to keep up, ya know?

- His arm is wrapped around your shoulders 90% of the time.

- He likes gripping your chin and tilting you into a kiss. That lovey dovey look in your eyes as your gazing up at him gets him every time.

- Sitting between his legs and leaning back against his chest. He’s a serial lounger so it’s either that or he’ll just drape himself across you.

- He uses a lot of nicknames with you. Most of them are used in a sarcastic tone, unless they’re generic or the two of you are alone.

- Playful threats, sarcasm, and snide remarks.

- He will nap on you, laying his head in your lap and crossing his arms over his chest. Hope you don't mind the grease too much.

- He’ll deny it until his very last breath, but he’s a snuggler and is definitely the one to initiate cuddles 90% of the time. He complains and practically pouts whenever you pull away from him.

- The two of you usually cuddle facing each other, your arms wrapped snug around each other and your legs tangled together. He can’t help but smile whenever you sleepily tell him he smells good; which he always does.

- He insists on walking you to class, not caring about when he manages to get to his own. He’s late everyday anyway.

- Sneaking out to go see him. There’s always a smile on his face as he watches you make your way outside, though he’ll; weakly, scold you if you do anything dangerous. You just tell him that he could always stop coming to see you. He never takes you up on that offer.

- Late night drives.

- Parking in dark areas.

- Desperate makeouts. He always trails after your lips every time you pull away, moaning your name like the two of you were doing a whole lot more than kissing.

- One word: insatiable. His hormones are racing. Testosterone is pumping through his body. His pelvis is leading the way wherever he goes. He can force himself to wait until you want to do something but boy is it hard when you look so good.

- The more heated things get, the sloppier his kisses become; though you’re usually too far gone to really care.

- “Sneaky butt grabs” and blatant grinding against you.

- He definitely air humps your backside and makes grabbing hands at your butt/chest when you aren’t facing him, pretending like he wasn't doing anything when you turn to look at him.

- Hickeys. 

- Soft pushes when he makes wisecracks. He’ll knock shoulders with you and smirk or waggle his eyebrows, until you smile and roll your eyes.

- Anytime he does something; especially something big, he’ll ask what you think or look towards you for your reaction. He seeks your praise. Your opinion means a lot to him, even if he doesn’t outright say it.

- He probably got your name tattooed on him at some point. I wouldn't put it past the sucker.

- Not so deep down, he’s a softie and a pushover; especially for you. Try not to give him too much lip when he gets all goo goo eyed with you.

- As suave as he may seem. He hasn’t made it with all that many girls; at least not all the way. Sometimes, you’re gonna be genuinely shocked with some of the confessions that he makes to you because they all just make him seem so much more …cute.

- Momma’s boy. You think it’s sweet when you go over to his house and she dotes on him, usually prompting him to give an embarrassed “ma” with a mouthful of sandwich and/or reddening cheeks.

- He doesn't have a whole lot of spending money so; generally, the two of you go on fairly cheap dates, and usually go Dutch when buying things.

- Sock hops.

- Sharing and stealing food. If you can’t finish something and ask if he wants it, be prepared for him to grab it before you can even finish your sentence.

- He’s always got a beer for you if you’re into that sorta thing. He was probably the person to give you your first, amongst other firsts....

- Double; and more, dates with the couples in his gang.

- Your boyfriend is also Danny Zuko's boyfriend so expect to see the greaser a lot. He’s pretty fond of you and much sweeter than you anticipated.

- You’re only allowed to wear the jacket when it’s late at night and he catches you shivering; or when you’re completely alone. He won’t let any of the other guys see you wearing it, they can’t know that he’s gone soft.

- He’s not the best at comforting you but he’s pretty good at cheering you up and distracting you from what’s bothering you.

- Dangerous displays and daredevil antics. Whether he does them to impress or spook you is still up for debate.

- Harmless pranks, usually when you’re alone because he’d have to kick someone’s ass if they laughed you. He’s the only one allowed to tease you.

- He likes looking through your things. Your purse, your shelves, your locker; he’s a curious boy and his questions must be answered through scientific observation. He’s also looking for your compact mirror half the time so maybe just take your bag back and get it for him. 

- Sometimes, a womans gotta stand her ground and you’ll have to every now and again to make sure he doesn't walk all over you. He loves you but he can also be a jerk so give him a little hell when he’s giving you trouble. He learns that you aren’t to be toyed with or disrespected pretty quickly, and to be honest, you putting him in his place kinda turns him on.

- You once went to see a movie with him and offhandedly mentioned that one of the actors was handsome. He spent the whole night criticizing the movie and glancing at you when the actor was on screen to see your reaction. He was also extra handsy and kept trying to make a move, which prompted you to shrug him off. He was genuinely offended that you’d rather watch the guy then fool around with him.

- He can; obviously, be quite the jealous man. The only problem is that when he’s jealous, he usually tries to make you jealous too; especially if you’re fighting. It usually culminates in him failing to keep himself under control, finally just snapping and trying to beat the other guy bloody which is pretty much how all of his bouts of jealousy turn out. 

- He’s protective as all hell in all meanings of the word. He doesn’t want you getting hurt feelings, a hurt body, sick; nothing. He always jumps to your defense, immediately telling people to shut up if they even try to insult or hint at something unsatisfactory about you. Believe me, anybody who messes with you is cruisin’ for a bruisin’. 

- The two of you probably argue quite a bit but you don’t always have full blown fights. He’s usually a pretty blunt and sarcastic boy and doesn’t mince his words very often; especially when he’s angry, so things can get pretty heated whenever you do have a fight. 

- If you storm out on him, he’ll follow, even if he knows you’re about ready to kill him. He’ll take all the abuse you want to throw at him but you’re going to settle and square it right then and there, dammit!

- If you don’t wind up resolving things immediately after, then he’ll linger where he knows you’ll pass, hoping you’ll come up to him and forget everything that happened. He’s shy when apologizing but he does give you one when he’s in the wrong. 

- He shyly mumbles out a “love you” after you say it, especially when it’s in front of the guys. He’ll knock their blocks off if they even so much as smile at his expense.

- He proposes to you straight out of highschool. Some may call him crazy but he knows that you’re the one and he’s ready to spend the rest of his life with you.