#HIS LITTLE FACE IN THE CORNER BEHIND DAVE

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[g0dlyunsub]

don't pretend.

spencer can see through all of your lies, including the bruises you’re hiding behind makeup.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: mentions of prisons, physical violence, bruises, reader gets injured, patching up, fluff

word count :: 1.6k

author’s note :: oh, looks like i’ve spawned another hurt/comfort fic yet again…

accompanying song :: who hurt you by role model

you’re an ambitious profiler. 

you’re such an ambitious profiler that you interview offenders with the most extensive list of records whenever you have time. you want to understand more than just the simple question of why they did it. you want to explore the how’s and what if’s.

and you’re soft-hearted, so much so that you jeopardize your own safety. 

things should’ve gone smoothly with your fifth and last inmate of the week, had you been a little more aware of your surroundings.

but you placed too much faith on your ability to make peace with the man who unyieldingly worshiped violence.

that was your only mistake, but it was a costly one. 

you had kindly asked the guard to release the handcuffs, even though he insisted that they stay on. 

it’s alright, you told him with the wave of your hand. 

but you should’ve noticed the look of challenge on the inmate’s face. it was like he was taunting you, almost as if to say, do you really feel safe being in the same room as me?

it was your soft-heartedness that almost got you severely injured. 

he managed to land punches to your left cheek and scratched his nails into the flesh of your leg as he fell, right as he was tackled to the ground. 

he laughed when he saw you holding your hand against your throbbing cheek.

you arrive at the office as early as you can, a layer of makeup thicker than usual coating the bruise swelling your left cheek. 

you pretend to bury your head in the case file that you retrieved from your desk when the rest of the team started to flood into the room.

when spencer arrives, he gives you a nod and gleefully chirps good morning as he takes his seat beside you. 

spencer knows your routine like the back of his palm – he knows you’re busy with interviews at the federal prison on saturdays and sundays, and he knows you always need a caffeine boost the next morning. you gladly accept the cup of coffee that he sets in front of your hands with a small smile.

as hotch is debriefing the case with garcia, however, you can’t help but feel his eyes drilling into the side of your face, as if he can see through your cover. 

your makeup can’t be that obvious, right?

your thoughts are interrupted when hotch closes the cover of his case file, stands, and announces wheels up in 20. 

you lift yourself with the support of the table and wait for everyone else to exit before you follow, doing your best to disguise the limp in your walk.

---

“alright. jj and prentiss, go to the morgue. morgan and reid, go to the crime scene. dave, you and l/n can set up with the local p.d. i’ll go talk to the victims’ families.”

as hotch assigns roles to the team, everyone nods when their names are called out. but spencer raises his hand slightly and clears his throat.

“actually, hotch, do you mind if i switch with rossi and set up with l/n and the locals instead?”

hotch hesitates for a second, but nods slowly. 

“sure. dave, you okay with that?”

the italian agent cocks up a questioning eyebrow but gives a warm smile. “i don’t see why not.”

you’ve never heard spencer contest hotch’s orders before, so you’re stumped as to why he’s suggesting an alternative role this time. but you soon brush off the thought, and decide to occupy your time re-reading the case files before the jet lands.

you sink into your seat with a heavy sigh, forcing your eyes shut as pain travels down your legs. you’re thankful that hotch assigned you to set up at the local p.d., since it doesn’t require much locomotion and spares you the struggle of getting up constantly. you watch as spencer spreads the corners of the map and sticks push pins into the corkboard. 

“how did your interviews go yesterday?” spencer breaks the silence first and moves to grab a red marker. with his practiced hand, he quickly circles the areas of the crime scenes on the map.

you gulp.

“they went pretty well, you know, nothing out of the ordinary.”

spencer caps the tip, and a click sounds as the plastic edges meet. he nods, wets his lips with his tongue, and turns to look at you. you meet his gaze for a brief second before you look away, pretending to busy yourself with the m.e. reports that jj sent over.

“green neutralizes red.”

his sudden remark startles you. you drop the papers in your hands and look up. “i’m sorry?”

“green contains the wavelengths that are missing in red light, so when they mix, the colors neutralize each other. that’s why concealers with a green base are better at covering up more reddish bruising,” spencer elaborates, and starts to match up the photos of the crime scenes to the locations marked on the map.

you blink. oh.

there’s no way he’s talking about you, right?

“um, yeah, green’s a common color corrector,” you mutter as you nervously tap your fingers against the wooden table. “but there weren’t any bruises or marks of assault on the victims.” 

spencer scoffs as you finish your sentence.

“it’s not about the victims. you. i’m talking about you.” 

you swallow slowly. 

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you try, a fake smile plastered over your face as you shake your head left and right. 

spencer studies you with a scrutinizing stare, eyes boring into yours like he’s counting the number of times you blink.

“could you grab that for me?” he asks at last, pointing to the book that’s two tables away, the one titled florida’s topography and bathymetry. without thinking, you nod and stand.

fuck.

what a clever way to set you up. now you have to somehow mask the limp in your steps and pretend like the pain coursing through your legs is nonexistent.

you do your best to walk normally, but it’s hard to tell if you’re doing a good job from his unreadable stare. you hold the book out with a bemused smile, hoping it’s enough to cover your pained expression.

he doesn’t look convinced. 

“that,” spencer points to your leg with an accusatory gaze, “why are you walking like that?” 

he swiftly takes the book from you, and your hand instinctively grips the side of the table for support.

“like what?” 

you’re going to make him pry the confession out of you. 

“like you’re hurting,” spencer utters quietly. his last word catches your breath completely.

“is that why you asked rossi to switch with you? so you could interrogate me?” 

“who hurt you?” spencer ignores your question, setting the book aside and leaning over the table to get a closer look at your face. 

instinctively, you retreat and look down, but he walks around the table and kneels in front of you. your brain buzzes with the words he’s just declared. it’s not what did you do, or what happened to you. instead, it’s who hurt you. 

“i… it’s nothing.” you shift in your chair, but he stops the seat from turning completely by laying a hand on the headrest.

“tell me. please.” 

you can’t fake it anymore, especially when he’s already hammered the nail into the hole perfectly.

you rub your sweaty palms on your lap. “one of them tried to hurt me during the interview. i-it was my fault, i asked the guards to take off the cuffs. i thought they’d be more willing to cooperate that way.”

spencer’s expression mellows as you speak, but he doesn’t return a comment. somehow, this makes you even more nervous.

a second after, he lifts his hand and slides a finger along the slightly swollen area of your cheek. he hesitates when you start to wince in pain.

tapping his knee with his index finger, he instructs, “let me take a look at your leg.”

you comply.

when you lift your leg, spencer’s hand slips between the wedge of your platform's heel, and gracefully sets your foot on his knee. 

you observe him gently push the thin fabric of your trousers upwards. you hold your breath when he leans in to inspect closely, and you almost shudder when the vapor of his warm breath tickles the gash on your flared shin. 

spencer steps back to retrieve a first-aid kit lying nearby and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. without saying a single word, he pulls a cotton pad and a gauze roll from the bag.

as he wraps your leg with the gauze, he looks up to meet your lowered gaze.

“tell me his name.”

you bite your lip.

“it’s fine. you should focus on the geo-profile instead.” you exhale as spencer unfolds the rolls on the hem of your trousers to cover your leg again.

“you do know that it won’t take me long to go through every incident report,” he retorts back with a challenging glint in his eye. your cheeks heat up with a hot flush of red.

goddamnit, spencer reid. 

you hastily brush yourself away from him.

“what are you going to do?”

he pauses, every second of silence only feeding your suspicions. you watch the corner of his lips tug into a smirk.

“you know, nothing out of the ordinary.”

you huff.

“don’t use my words against me.” 

he shrugs with an indifferent expression, but chuckles before standing back up.

“his name. or do we want to do this the hard way?”

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x best friend fem!reader

Summary: Dave is devastated by your supposed crush on his alter-ego, Kick-Ass.

Genre: hurt and comfort, fluff

Warnings: jealous!Dave, swearing, not explicitly consensual kissing (both of them are okay with it however!), blood

~ thank you for requesting, anon!! this was a very cute idea!~

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

The comic store was more crowded than usual that afternoon. You, Todd, Marty, and Dave had squeezed into your usual booth, with you and Dave squished shoulder to shoulder as he rambles on and on as you stare at the small TV in the corner which is playing more news coverage about Kick-Ass. Your cheeks feel significantly warmer.

"She's drooling again," Marty quips, and all three boys turn and look at you with interest. 

"Who knew girls were so horny," Todd comments with a smirk and sucks his milkshake obnoxiously.

Dave, unlike the other two, looks positively flustered as he watches you. His eyes land on the screen and then on yours.

"Hm, doesn't the suit look good on him," you hum and sigh, turning to your friends with a serious expression. "Do'you think he's young? He looks young."

"Looks around our age, so I suppose that means you're free to bone him, Y/n." Todd shrugs. 

That makes Dave blush crimson.

You slap Todd's arm from across the table. "Shut up."

"We all know you want to," Marty adds and sips his milkshake like he knows something. You chew on your lip, subconsciously leaning into Dave as you turn back to look at the TV and let out an amused sigh as your eyes stay glued onto the screen. 

This isn't the first time you're pining over Kick-Ass. You've been doing it for a while now and it makes Dave blush every damn time. Some part of him feels like an asshole for feeling that way about you considering you aren't drooling over him. Not over Dave, your best friend.

No, you're drooling over a superhero who is completely different from himself. His alter-ego, someone who is undeniably so much better than him. 

How can Dave Lizes ever compete with Kick-Ass?

Todd kicks him in the shin but you're too entranced to sense the tension.  

"What?" Dave mouths and his cheeks flame crimson when Todd points between you and him and makes obnoxious kissing noises. Dave sends his friends a frown and shushes them with a shake of his head. Luckily for him, you aren't paying any attention as you watch the screen, your mind focused on only one thing. 

How does Kick-Ass look so damn good in that stupid costume?

* * *

Sirens go off as Dave limps away, blood staining his lip. He's not badly hurt, just a little shaken up. It isn't like he could feel much of the pain anyway. He sniffs and wipes a hand under his lip, groaning. The air is cold and the night is cloudy. He's been so preoccupied by you that he's been shit at his job—or worse than usual. 

Dave prepares to walk home when he hears a small sniffle from behind a tree in the park he's walking by. He frowns,something stirring in his chest as if pulling him toward the sound. 

Someone could be hurt. 

He forces some bravado as he rounds the park gate and approaches the tree, the sniffling becoming louder. 

His body stiffens when he sees you huddled behind a dress, wearing that dress you'd shown him a thousand pictures of. Realization dawns on him. Corey Addams. You did have a date with him tonight. 

That dickhead.

"What are you doing here?" The question comes out weirdly interrogating as Dave's voice lowers in an attempt to have him be unrecognizable to you and you jump, looking up as you frantically paw at your teary cheeks.

Dave feels like a jerk as he watches your face morph into one of panic and he kneels down, now panicked in his own way. "Hey, hey, it's okay. M' not gonna hurt you. Are you okay?"

He's fumbling with his words, unsure if he's even doing the right thing. You blink at him, your eyes still watery. Dave knows you have a crush on Kick-Ass so this must be extra embarrassing and in his panic, he looks you up and down and fakes a much too insightful educated guess as a way to make you comfortable. 

"Did you just get dumped?"

You scrunch up your nose in confusion and shake your head. Your crying has ceased and you huddle your arms around your legs, resting your chin on your knee. You sigh and look around at the mostly empty park.

"I'm hopeless," you say, not looking at Kick-Ass in particular. 

Dave swallows and fully sits down now, unsure what else he can do. As a superhero he wants to make sure you're safe, and as your best friend, he has a burning desire to stay with you. You turn to him and chuckle out a laugh, sniffling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, confused.

"Me. I'm a fucking joke," you whisper, laughing as you try not to cry again. "I'm so stupid."

"Why do you say that?" Dave asks in a rush, his voice high again. You're too busy self-loathing to hear the change. 

"Because I spend all my fucking time pretending that the one boy I am in love with, I am not actually in love with him! A-and then I go around trying to forget him with any boy that smiles my way or simply walks by and they're never good enough."

Dave thinks you're talking about Kick-Ass and he panics even more. "I-"

"Like how fucking stupid am I? Rambling on and on about you when all I want is him?"

Dave's heart sinks. Shit, he thinks, so you must be talking about Corey then.

After a beat of silence, he says, "I'm sure your date likes you back." He assumes you're most likely overwhelmed since you had said Corey didn't dump you and it's late and—

"My date?" you laugh, "What are you talking about? No. Not my date. My best friend," you ramble on, tears still falling. "I love him and I've messed it up too many times pretending like I don't. I- and Corey told me David's in love with Katie and I just feel so stupid."

You're too distraught to catch on to how weird it is that Kick-Ass has more information about your date than he should as you ramble on and on to him as if he understands who everyone is. Dave can tell you're mostly just speaking out your frustrations. 

"D-David?"

You nod, sniffling. "Dave. My best friend, the guy I'm in love with," you tell him and look at Kick-Ass, groaning immediately and then holding your face in your hands like you'd just done something shameful. "Fuck, I'm sorry, this is inappropriate. I'm so sorry I am wasting your time—"

You lower your hands and then he's kissing you before you can finish the sentence. His hands cup around your cheeks as he leans in and continues to kiss you.

You lose yourself in the moment for a bit, your very real yet superficial attraction to Kick-Ass kicking in as you kiss him back until reality finally snaps in and you push him away, scrambling up. 

"What the fuck?!" you scream, feeling violated as you wipe your lips with your hand.

Dave panics now fumbles with his costume. "W-Wait, let me explain," he mutters as he frantically pulls at the zipper behind his neck and throws his mask onto the dirt. He looks up, brown curls falling in front of his eyes. Your eyes widenand you blink at him. 

"Hi," Dave mumbles, his blue eyes shining as the tips of his ears burn. 

"Fuck!" you shriek and lean forward, kneeling again as you now cover his face with your hands, all kinds of emotions overcoming you. "What is wrong with you?!" You grab his mask, shoving it in his hands. Your heart is pounding as he stumbles, falling over from the roughness of the way you're tackling him. 

He grunts and holds your waist with one hand as he pushes your hands away to pull his mask back on. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!" he mutters as he attempts to zip it up. You mumble curses and take over, adjust the fabric as you sit back on your heels and simply watch him. 

Dave.

Kick-Ass is Dave?! 

You swat his arm repeatedly. "You fucker!!"

"O-ow!" Dave winces as he shields himself from the blows. 

You continue to hit him, your mind unable to process anything anymore— "I can't believe you hide this from me! And that you kissed me?! You fucking perv!" you shout, with no real bite behind your words as your palm rests on his toned chest. 

Fuck. 

Dave sits back as your assaults calm down and groans. "I'm sorry."

"Bullshit," you clap back, staring at him. "You aren't sorry. You did that on purpose because I–" you cover your mouth with your hands, "I admitted I have a crush on you."

Dave grins widely, some confidence coming back as he nods his head.

"Kill me," you mutter. 

"Kiss you?" he asks. He's looking at you with his striking blue eyes, chewing on his lower lip. You look at him in his costume and now it all makes sense. Duh, Dave Lizewski is Kick-Ass! It's all in the eyes. How could you have missed them? 

"What?" 

"You just asked me to kiss you."

You pause for a moment but then you break out into laughter.

"I didn't," you say.

Dave leans away, hurt written across his features. "But you want it," he tries. "Y/n I have loved you for years. How could you not know?"

He looks completely serious. You know him. You've known him for years. You know that look behind his eyes. Your expression softens and warmth fills your chest. 

"You can't go around kissing girls without their permission," you whisper, inching forward as your eyes drift to his lip. Dave's lips. 

Dave leans in, almost entranced as he senses your movements. You've always been connected but this feels like a magnetic pull. "I don't plan on kissing any other girls, just you," he says honestly, not even trying to make a move, "but I should have asked you. I'm sorry. I should have—"

It's your turn to pull him in, crashing your lips against his. It isn't smart, kissing Kick-Ass out in the open like this but neither you nor Dave seem to care. Your lips move rhythmically with his and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. 

Dave's gloved hands tighten around your hips, pulling you in even closer as he loses himself in you. You feel so at ease as he deepens the kiss, only pulling away to catch your breath. Dave's looking at you from behind his mask, his chest heaving. 

You lean in and hug him, holding him close. "Why didn't you tell me you liked me?" you whisper.

Dave wraps his arms around your middle. "Why didn't you?" he counters. 

You grin against his shoulder. "Smartass."

Once you pull away again, Dave stands and holds out his hand. He pulls you up and looks around. Thankfully no one is around. "Let me walk you home?"

You nod and nudge his shoulder as you walk. He laughs and pushes you away a little—just like always. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and you itch to hold his hand. Instead, you ask softly. 

"You're careful, right?" You look at his costume.

It's barely audible but Dave hears you anyways. He nods. 

"Yeah. I always am."

Your hand grazes his and your chest fills with warmth. 

"Good. Can't lose you when I've only just gotten you."  

tags: @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

[ikkyfics]

hiii, could you maybe write a dave lizewski x reader where the reader is also a huge comic book nerd like dave? and he comes over to her place to help her organize all her comic books + action figures into her display shelves + they yap together abt comic stuff or something

it can be established rs or pre relationship, i think either way would be still be so cute!!! it would also be rlly cool to see a more sarcastic reader utilized here, its cute to see that dynamic with dave!!!

i rlly hope this makes sense! i hope it didnt seem too rambly 😭😭😭😭 thank uuuuu

Supreme Sarcasm Power

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: "I knew you had an impressive collection, but… this is practically a nerd sanctuary." "You only say that because you want to marry me and get half of the assets in the division," you retorted. The teasing tone made Dave flash a crooked smile, nearly dropping the action figure. "I don't need a comic collection for that," he shot back, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Just you."

Warnings: just fluffy

A/N: honey, yeees I understood, don't worry. I feel like I made a mistake with the nerdy references(so sorry), but I hope you can like it <33

Masterlist

The room was a perfect reflection of your personality: half Disney princess, half intergalactic warrior. Cute plushies shared space with incredibly detailed action figures, and shelves full of comics contrasted with delicate pastel-colored lamps. Dave was in the middle of the organized chaos, holding a Captain America action figure in one hand and a Watchmen comic book in the other.

"I knew you had an impressive collection, but... this is practically a nerd sanctuary," he said, trying not to sound too impressed—and failing miserably.

"You only say that because you want to marry me and get half of the assets in the division," you retorted, not even looking up as you stacked some issues of Saga. The teasing tone made Dave flash a crooked smile, nearly dropping the action figure.

"I don't need a comic collection for that," he shot back, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Just you."

"Aww," you replied, turning to face him with an arched eyebrow. "But if you drop my Captain America, forget it."

Dave chuckled, slightly flushed, as he carefully placed the action figure on the designated shelf. "Seriously, how did you get this? This limited edition costs a fortune."

"Connections," you replied mysteriously, crossing your arms. "And what I did was sell part of my soul. Totally worth it, don't you think?"

Dave laughed, still eyeing the action figure in his hands before carefully returning it to its proper spot on the shelf. You could feel his gaze lingering on every detail of your room, as if he was absorbing it all. It was the kind of attention he gave to everything he loved, and, well, you knew that included you. But you weren’t going to admit that out loud, at least not without making a sarcastic comment right after.

"So, what's next on the organization list?" he asked, putting his hands on his hips in an awkward but absurdly adorable way.

You pointed to the stack of boxes in the corner of the room. "That one. But be careful with the one at the bottom, it has glass. And if you break something... well, let's just say not even the Hulk will protect you."

"Got it," he responded with a serious expression that lasted two seconds before giving way to a nervous smile. "No ruining my entrance to the Avengers, noted."

As he bent down to grab the next box, you returned your focus to organizing the comics alphabetically—because, of course, it had to be alphabetical. It didn’t take long for the comfortable silence to be broken by a strange sound coming from Dave: a mix of a sigh and a stifled laugh.

"What’s up?" you asked, not turning around. The casual tone was a clear attempt to ignore the little wave of concern that hit you. After all, that kind of sound coming from him usually meant he'd found something... compromising.

He didn’t answer, which only made your anxiety worse. When you finally turned around, your heart practically dropped to your stomach. There he was, holding a Quicksilver poster with a lipstick mark strategically placed on the character’s cheek. The bright red contrasted with the worn paper, clearly loved too much during its glory days.

"Oh, God," you muttered, bringing a hand to your face. "Dave, give me that."

He held the poster above his head with a grin so wide it looked like it might split his face in half. "I didn’t know you were such a big fan of Peter Maximoff."

"I’m not!" you shot back, already crossing the room toward him. "It was a teenage thing. Give it to me before I die of embarrassment."

"Teenage?" He raised an eyebrow, as if processing a revolutionary discovery. "You used to kiss posters as a teenager?"

"I didn’t kiss posters!" you exclaimed, trying to jump and grab the paper, but he had the height advantage. "It was just... I had a crush, okay? And that’s none of your business!"

He laughed, stepping back. "I think it is. After all, I’m the one who’ll have to compete with Quicksilver now."

"Dave Lizewski, I swear I’ll..." you began, but he interrupted, holding the poster even higher.

"What are you going to do? Summon your supreme sarcasm powers? Because, as far as I know, that’s not going to help you get this," he teased, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement.

You sighed, trying not to show how defeated you were in your own specialty: keeping composure. Dave seemed to be enjoying every second of this role reversal, holding the poster like a freshly won trophy, his dark curls slightly messy on his forehead, and his blue eyes shining behind his glasses. It was hard to stay truly mad at him when he had that expression—a half-smile, half-mischievous grin—that made your heart stumble before you even realized it.

But you weren’t going to give up that easily.

"Do you really want to turn this into a battle?" you shot back, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. "Because, as far as I know, you’re not exactly known for winning."

He laughed, a low chuckle that seemed to reverberate in the space between you. "Oh, sure. This coming from the person who’s literally turning red just because I found out she kissed posters."

"I didn’t kiss posters," you repeated, even though the evidence was incriminatingly clear.

Dave raised his hand even higher, the poster swaying dangerously above you both. He wasn’t exactly tall, but he was strong in a way that didn’t seem obvious at first glance—not until you noticed the muscles in his arms, visible even under the sleeves of his T-shirt. You tried again to grab the poster, but he leaned back, laughing once more.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you muttered, stopping your jumping and placing your hands on your hips. "I can't believe I’m losing to you."

"That’s what makes me a genius, right?" he responded, still with that teasing tone. "I finally figured out your weakness: teenage embarrassment."

"No way," you said, your voice firm, even though the back of your neck was still warm.

You knew you needed to change strategies. Jumping and trying to grab the poster clearly wasn’t working, so it was time to do what you did best: turn the tables in your favor.

Straightening your posture, you took a step closer to him, closing the distance until you were almost invading his space. Your gaze deliberately moved from his eyes to the poster, then back to him, your lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile.

"Okay, you won," you said softly, your voice dropping to a low, almost melodic tone. "But, if we’re talking about kisses..."

Before he could process what was happening, you placed your hands on his torso—heat and firmness under the thin fabric of his T-shirt—and took another step closer. Your fingers lazily running along his sides.

"...maybe you want one too?"

You saw the instant transformation in him. The confident smile faltered, his eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, and color rose on his cheeks with almost comical speed.

"W-what?" he stammered, his voice faltering like someone had pressed the wrong key.

You seized the advantage, tilting your head slightly as if considering the idea seriously. "You heard me. Just tell me, Dave. I’m generous like that."

The poster started to drop—finally—but by this point, you didn’t even care about it anymore. All that mattered was the growing heat between you, the way his eyes couldn’t decide whether to look at yours or your lips, and the way his breath had become slightly irregular.

"I... I mean..." he tried, but the words tangled in an adorable way.

"Dave," you interrupted, your voice a little firmer, but with a hint of tenderness.

"Hm?"

"I don’t want the poster," you admitted, letting your hands slide a little higher up his chest. "I just want you."

The silence that followed was thick, but in a way that made the air feel electrified. He finally let go of the poster, letting it fall to the floor carelessly, while his arms came around your waist, pulling you gently closer.

"You don’t play fair," he murmured, his voice husky, but with that mischievous smile still present.

"I know," you replied, leaning in his direction until your lips finally met.

The kiss was slow but full of intention, a mix of quiet laughs and a passion that seemed to overflow with every touch. It was a little clumsy, as always, but that only made you fall for him more.

When you finally pulled apart, he was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling in a way that made everything around you feel lighter.

"You won this time," he said, with a theatrical sigh.

"I always win," you retorted, giving his chest a little push before turning to grab the forgotten poster.

But as you crouched down to pick it up, he spoke again:

"Just so it’s recorded... I definitely wouldn’t mind being defeated like that more often."

And in that moment, as you laughed and tried to look indifferent, all you could think about was how Dave Lizewski was your favorite victory.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

A Quiet Neighborhood - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader Words count: 4180 Rating: + 18, MDNI Tags: POV second person, reader is female with female genitalia, wears dresses, heels and a bikini, has hair that can be tied up in a bun/ponytail, no other description is given, she doesn’t blush, smut, angst, kissing, dirty thoughts, masturbation, use of a sex toy, mention of infidelity, kinda Desperate Housewifes coded (uh, don’t judge, I love it), easter eggs in secondary character’s names (so you can have fun guessing which series/film they come from 👀), neighborhood dynamics, Carol, Molly and Alice are there. Mention of food, alcohol consumption, mention of poker game, some reader's thoughts marked in italics, swearing, Dave is a fucking menace. This takes place right after Chapter 1. A/N: Dave is finally back! First of all thank you so much for the interest you have shown in this series, I didn't expect it and it made me really happy 🥹 I hope you like this chapter, I was planning to release it earlier but I struggled a little bit with my writing. English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistake. No beta, I reread it myself, I really hope it makes sense. I would particularly like to thank @arcanefox207 , @milla-frenchy and @aurorawritestoescape for their support, encouragement and kindness. Love you, girls ♥️

Chapter 1 | Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Coming out of the bathroom everything feels too loud, ringing voice of people, music, clanging of glasses, it's all too much to bear with when all you need right now is silence to make up with your overwhelming feelings spinning in your head like a carousel gone wild.

“I need to get out of here” you think, heading toward the Horowitz' living room in brisk steps to retrieve your purse. 

Jane stops you in the track "Hey, where were you? We're having margarita, would you like some?"

You see him. behind Jane’s shoulder, through the door to the outside. He's back in the garden to his wife, holding an arm around her waist with a relaxed expression on his face, as if nothing has happened.

"I-uh-" 

"Just sip this time, don't throw it down like you did before" Jane looks at you amused "I don't want to hold your hair while you vomit in one of Walkers' fancy bathrooms"

You nervously laugh then you look at him again and it's infuriating, the way he just goes on with his life while you feel like you've been hit by a train.

Fucking worthy of an Oscar.

The temptation to go home takes you for a moment but then looking at him smiling seraphically you think, “Fuck it, I don't see why I should ruin my day for him.”

So you follow Jane into the garden to join the others.

“If he can play it cool I can too” you think ”nothing a nice margarita can't fix.”

You walk past him and see that he and his wife are talking to Edie and her new boyfriend.

He doesn't even look at you, as if you are back a figure in the background with the others.

Which actually makes sense; the opposite would be much stranger since in the eyes of everyone you are nothing more than mere neighbors.

“Dave, look, Carol left lipstick on your lips,” you hear Edie say giggling as you sit at the table with your friends, ”you two lovebirds, you're still so cute after so many years of marriage.”

You feel your heart jump into your throat but you try to maintain composure outside and greeting Susan and Emma that just arrived “fuck” you think, cursing Edie and her big mouth “Now she's going to realize it's not her lipstick, God, I'm so screwed”.

You talked to her before but now in your panic you can't even remember what lipstick she was wearing.

You smile quizzically at Gabby who hands you one of the margaritas a waiter just left at your table but you perk up your ears to catch whatever they're saying; for a moment it's all silent until you hear Carol's crystalline laughter.

You barely turn to observe them out of the corner of your eye as you take a sip of your cocktail and see that Carol is wearing a lipstick very similar to yours. You're not a church girl but right now you're literally praying that one stupid kiss doesn't make you the laughingstock of the neighborhood.

Damn you, Dave.

Carol pulls a tissue out of her purse and hands it to him.

Okay, she’s quiet. Or at least she seems to be.

And who would ever connect me and Dave anyway?

You shake yourself out of your thoughts when you hear Jane call your name “hey! are you still with us?”

You smile “yes, sorry, I was thinking about work, you know that presentation I have to give on Monday” and you squeeze into your shoulders “what were you saying?”

Jane rolls her eyes “ugh, work. I was saying we're meeting tomorrow afternoon at my house for poker, are you coming?”

“Of course I'm coming, and I plan to tear you all apart!”

Jane, Gabby, Susan and Emma all say in chorus “we'll see about that!”You laugh and sip on your margarita again trying to appease your nerves, the liquid slide cool down your throat and you savor the citrusy flavor on your tongue thinking "it's good. it's all good. I will cut that Dave bullshit out of my life and everything will be great"

The rest of the afternoon passes pleasantly, you drink another margarita while chatting with your friends, you grab some snacks from the buffet so you don't risk forcing Jane to hold your hair in the bathroom, and you feel like you have regained some mental stability.

Dave is still here, looking like the perfect picture of a man trying to spend quality time with his beloved wife.

They talk to neighbors, they laugh, she holds a hand in his tracing small concentric circles on his back.

All smooth, I can't believe it, you sigh as you finish your second margarita.

Ms. Horowitz goes between tables to tell you that anyone who wants can take advantage of the pool, all your friends thank her saying they will do so shortly, and you reply, “Oh,I don't have my bathing suit with me,” wondering if anyone has ever told you to bring it. From the way Jane looks at you with an amused expression you guess that yes, she had told you but you completely forgot in your frenzy to look good in front of Dave in your new shoes.

Being in a bathing suit in front of him is not something you could afford to contemplate and you can't do it now either so you try to shy away from her invitation as politely as you can, but Mrs. Horowitz presses you, “that's no problem, dear, we have dozens of bathing suits for our guests!”

“Of course. I forgot that if they wanted to they could swim in a pool full of money like Scrooge McDuck.”

At this point you can do nothing than accept.

Carlos and Rafael managed to disengage under the guise of joining Mr. Horowitz and other neighbors in the living room to watch whatever is going to be on the sports channel. And these are the moments when you wish you were someone who knows about sports.

“You can go to the pool house and change there, you will find swimsuits and towels in the closet,” Mrs. Horowitz chirps.

And so you do, you head for the pool house teetering on your new heels, thinking maybe you shouldn't swim at all because you're feeling a little tipsy.

“God, I really don't feel like it,” you say to Susan who is beside you, and she replies, ”oh come on, it will be fun!”

You already hear some splashing coming from the pool as you enter the little house.

It is luxuriously furnished like a real outhouse, there is a huge bed, a small kitchen, and a door on the right side that leads to a bathroom. Someone could actively live in here like a king.

Susan opens the closet that takes up the entire wall in front of the bed and finds dozens of bikinis and one-piece suits. “Jesus, they could open a swimsuit store with all this stuff.”

You laugh, tapping her on the side “make room” Susan pinches your arm “rude!” she sneers.

Emma, Jane and Gabrielle laugh. You choose a swimsuit as they take turns to change into the bathroom.

____________________________________

You walk out of the pool house wearing a black bikini, holding the towel wrapped around you. You chose the simplest model you could find that wasn't a one-piece swimsuit, because you always thought you looked like your grandmother in those.

You don't want to stand out but neither do you want to feel ridiculous at the idea of Dave seeing you.

You hope he has already gone home until you reach the pool and see him diving off the small diving board located on one of the short sides.

By now it's evening so several strings of small lights have been lit and hung directly above the pool like small fireflies floating in the air and scattered over the buffet and beverage gazebos.

There are also several garden street lamps around, but the small lights create an enchanting atmosphere.

Mr. and Mrs. Horowitz really know how to throw a great party.

Dave's back looks golden as you watch him disappear into the water, his muscles outlined by the play of light and shadow that refracts against them. You bury a howl inside as you steal a glance at his butt swaddled deliciously in red swimming shorts.

You sit on a lawn chair, fully intending to stay there, while your friends put their towels down and go for a dip in the pool.

It's still warm for fall, today in particular, so you don't mind the thing itself, but showing yourself to Dave like this? That's a whole other matter.

The whole neighborhood is there but you literally feel like only he can see you, because that's the only look you care about and might feel judged by.

Your friends wave at you from the other side of the pool, even calling your name so you listlessly drop the towel on the deck chair and walk to the edge, wetting your feet in the cool water.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Dave go underwater, you follow his movements, and see him come up right in front of you.

“Fuck” you think

“Hi,” he says in a low voice as you wonder where his wife is. You answer him by mumbling a “hello” as you look around for her. Carol is sitting on a lawn chair, wearing a white one-piece bathing suit and matching sarong, and sipping cocktails with one of your neighbors. She is quite distant and seems very engrossed in the conversation, so you finally allow yourself to look at Dave.

He's still in the water, leaning against the edge below you.

He runs a hand through his hair to pull it back, small droplets sliding down his perfectly chiseled jaw to the column of his neck and down his broad chest until they die at the water's edge.

Your friends call your name loudly as he rests both hands on the edge and rises effortlessly beside you. You don't look at him, you keep your gaze fixed on Jane and the others as you hear the sound of water sliding over his body and falling back into the pool, a few drops hitting you in the process. He is beside you, completely wet, wearing only shorts. You’re petrified, trying to govern your emotions and especially your facial expressions “stay calm stay calm stay calm” you repeat to yourself as you hear his voice whisper “you look so fucking sexy in that bikini. I wish I could fuck you right here right now” just before he walks over to the loungers.

He didn't turn around, he didn't make eye contact with you, no one would say he even noticed you, and he spoke so softly that no one could have heard him but you. You heard him loud and clear, and his rough voice went and settled directly between your legs on your wet pussy.

You hastily dive into the pool feeling your cheeks on fire.

“Fucking Dave and his fucking flirting.”

_________________________________________

First thing you do when you come home is to take off your shoes throwing on the carpet in your living room.

By now you are no longer tipsy; swimming in the pool has definitely helped you get sober again.

And Dave.

Dave who ignored you pretty much the rest of the evening but infiltrated your brain like a disease.

You know you can't get your hopes up, you know that this thing between the two of you will have no future, and you also know that you don't like being a home wrecker.

I am just an escape from his marriage, a sleazy adventure, a little toy to entertain him.

And yet, you still want more.

Your body unfortunately doesn't care about morality right now, it reacts to every image of him imprinted in your mind, Dave is Pavlov's bell and you are the drooling dog.

Lingering in fantasies about him hurts, but there is a desperate part of you that still feels his hips grinding against yours, the taste of his tongue, the warmth of his big hands on you.

And his body next to yours when he got out of the pool, how you could smell the scent of his skin mixed with chlorine, how you could still feel the warmth of his body despite being completely wet, water dripping down his legs pooling at his feet.

You can stay here a little longer, just a little while longer without hurting anyone, before you turn the page.

You shuffle into your room with your head in the clouds, open your night stand drawer almost without thinking, pull out your dildo and lie on the bed. You loop your dress around your waist without even bothering to take it off, just enough to get rid of your bra and your panties.

You let the dildo glide over your body, shivering at the feel of the cool plastic on your tits, brushing against your nipples.

The low rasp of his voice still in your mind, graveling like an echo in your brain “you look so fucking sexy in that bikini”

It was the first time you saw him like that, you happened to see some exposed skin as he mowed the lawn, even lifting up his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead once he was done but what you saw today? Nothing compares with it.

His fully exposed torso, the darting muscles of his back as he dove, how his arms flexed as he leaned over the edge of the pool. There is something obscene about seeing people completely wet, a primal instinct awakening, the water slipping and hugging the curves of his body, the droplets of water glistening on his skin, the wet shorts glued to his body that barely suggested the shape of him.

You shut your eyes and suddenly it’s his cock wiping on your hardened buds, tip slapping and teasing, brushing on your skin just right, red and swollen and already leaking.

You can think it’s real, it feels so real, his hand roaming on your body, pulling your dress up, get it out of the way to dispose of you as he wants.

Big strong hand gripping on your inner thighs, his fingers rising higher on your skin, making you whimper in anticipation.

Your cunt aching tremendously, unrestrained and starving.

His big cock grazing your swollen labia, parting them and then sliding entirely over your center, his tip slamming against your clit, mingling your essences in an overwhelming arousal that runs through you all.

And then he pushes inside, deeper and deeper in the most intimate part of you.

And that’s it.

You are fucking away all your bad omens, lying to your hands sinking into the flesh of your thighs, your heart pounding behind your ribcage, your hips swaying against the rubber dildo, pushing them away to suppress them. All frenzy and delirium as it is his cock kissing your cervix, stretching your walls, pulsing and dripping inside you.

You can’t stop, angling the dildo so that it brushes against your swollen clit pumping incessantly into your core, creaming the entire length of your dildo, your legs obscenely spread, your body torn apart by every thrust, your hungry pussy sucking in, contracting, devouring every inch without finding peace.

"I wish I could fuck you right here right now"

Your free hand rises on your tit, your fingers latched on your pebbled nipple, pulling and twisting until you feel your brain leaking from your pussy.

Your orgasm breaks inside you, vibrating in and out of your body, quivering on your sweaty skin, taking your breath away. You come thinking of him completely wet from head to toe on top of you, your flesh colliding, your bodies merging, in a desperate, relentless rush toward the brink.

And you can't get enough, so you don't stop as the first orgasm washes over you, your swollen, slippery cunt keeps frantically gripping around the dildo, your hands keep thrusting it in, torturing your nipples, it's like you're trying to quench your thirst once and for all.

The way he ignored you afterward makes you want to have him even more, to break through his stoicism and trigger an outburst in him as much as your own.

It's twisted, wrong, immoral and you don't care a bit. 

You fall into a deep sleep, having come repeatedly, Dave being all that's left in your head.

______________________________________

Morning light flutters on your eyelids forcing you to open your eyes to another day.

You grunt, feeling your incredibly aching pussy, and realize your dildo is still inside you.

The stretch is here to remind you your guilt, the frenzy that took you last night, the feeling of being just one inch away from slipping into something dangerous.

You pull it out cautiously, feeling your essence slip out of you, soaking your inner thigh, the sticky mess of your desire for him dribbling silently over your skin.

Your pussy tightens around nothing, pulsing to the void, deprived of something, swollen and tried.

The dress from the night before is still crumpled around your body, crumpled and damp with your sweat and arousal at the hem. You get out of bed feeling like a rag doll, drag yourself into the bathroom and look in the mirror. Mascara has run down your cheeks, your lipstick smudged, an exhausted and defeated expression on your face.

You look like a total disaster, matching your feelings.

This morning, in the sunlight, you are furious with yourself. Why did you let this married man condition you so much? You spent $350 on a pair of shoes just because he told you they'd fit you, what the fuck is wrong with you?

You have to stop before it takes a turn for the worse and you find yourself crying for him.

There's no way it will end well.

You take off your makeup, take a shower, and change into a pair of sweatpants and an old Pearl Jam T-shirt you got at a concert a million years ago.

You clean and tidy your house, then Jane calls to have your confirmation to meet at 3 p.m. at her house.

Having a fun afternoon with your friend will help, you think.

You don't look out the window toward his house even once, you simply pretend it doesn't exist.

After changing into a pair of jeans and a white top, you head towards Jane’s house at the end of the road, your eyes straight to her house without your usual wandering and sneaking through your neighbor’s windows.

You are able to shut down your brain concentrating on poker and your friend and it all goes smooth until you hear Susan say, “Did Edie call you to gossip about the Yorks?” And you all turn to look at her, you with your heart leaping in your chest like an acrobat.

“Really? Was it only me who had this pleasure?” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Why, what happened?” Jane asks as she shuffles the cards for the next hand.

“According to her, Dave has an affair. But you know how Edie is, I mean-”

"And how can she say that?" Gabby widen her eyes, getting all excited. You love her dearly but she’s almost as gossipy as Edie sometimes.

"She says Dave disappeared at the party and then came back with some lipstick on his mouth."

“What?” you all exclaim, as you try with all your might to feign surprise.

“Yes, and then she says Carol pretended nothing happened but according to Edie there is something going on because you know - she says that lipstick seemed slightly different from the one his wife was wearing”

“Well that also depends on lips natural color,” Jane tries to intervene, usually she's the one who instead tries to quell the rumors. You are thankful that she maintains her attitude even now, all while your other friends cut her off squeaking “oh my God!” And Gabby, who sits right next to you put a hand on your arm “Jesus, can you believe that?”

“Actually no” you shrug “I mean…they seem so close-hearted”

“Well, honey, I'm sorry to tell you but not all that glitters is gold” Gabby scoffs.

“Even if it was true - and with Edie I wouldn't put my hand on it because she was really tipsy and then well...she's Edie” Jane admonishes “it's none of our business”

“God, he would be such a scam though. And to think I kinda considered him incorruptible” Emma sighs and you all nod.

You never mentioned your crush, not even to the friends.

No one ever saw you two talk for more than a few minutes and only of mundane arguments, totally out of courtesy and being good neighbors.

Fuck. It has to end before anyone finds out.

The bullet missed you by a whisker but you know you can't play with fire.

“Then you wonder why I haven't found another boyfriend yet!” You playfully snap, just to look more unsuspicious.

You hate lying to your friends, but you are relieved when you see them nodding.

Jane urges, “Come on let's play, we've talked enough about this.”

The afternoon flows nicely, Jane and Gabi argue over points as usual, you all laugh, and by the end you feel better, really better.

Yesterday was crazy, but I can get through it, you think.

When you get home you order a pizza and eat it on the couch watching a horror movie. You don't think about him for the rest of the evening, until you get under the covers and a flashback of him pushing you against the bathroom tiles flashes before your eyes. You squeeze them hard, trying to banish the image from your mind.

________________________________________

Monday morning at the office hits you in the face, you have a lot of work to do but you've never been so happy to keep busy so you don’t complain. Anything goes as long as you don't think about him.

Your agency has just acquired a big client for whom you'll have to manage a marketing campaign, there's a lot of pressure but by the end of the morning you feel like you and the rest of the team have come up with the right idea, which makes you relieved.

At lunchtime you go out to get a sandwich. It's a beautiful sunny day, there’s a little wind that caresses your face and moves the tree canopies along the road. You're glad you've been able to focus, you really care about doing a good job and making a good impression on your demanding boss in light of a promotion you'd like to get.

You will slowly return to your usual life and what happened will remain a sporadic episode without consequences. That's the best thing for everyone.

You walk into the diner and get in line to order a sandwich.

You greet Sarah, the girl at the counter, with whom you've been chatting since the first day you were hired at your agency.

You order the usual and come out humming and feeling some lightness at last.

You walk the short distance to your office, and the moment you push the door open you feel a gaze on you, like in déjà vu. You turn to look at the street, and see no one, just a black car that takes off quickly, speeding down the empty road. For a moment it looks like Dave's. You blink your eyes and shake your head, feeling lost.

It's like you've taken one step forward and three steps back.

It will take much longer to eradicate him from your mind, and living in the same neighborhood across the street from each other certainly won't help.

You come home tired, you managed to do a good job despite the thought of Dave that kept pounding in your head all afternoon, at least you can be satisfied with that.

You park in your driveway and out of the corner of your eye you see Carol loading suitcases into a cab.

Shit, what's going on? Was Edie right? Did they really have a fight? Is she leaving him?

You start toward your door but then stay on the porch pretending to rummage through your purse for your keys.

You see Dave leave the house with his daughters, he helps Carol with the heaviest suitcase and they briefly say something you can’t hear. You hold your breath for a signal, something that will let you know what they’re doing, but it all seems neutral, calm, no drama, no screaming fight in the middle of the street. Typical of them, you think, they would never do that in front of their daughters anyway.

Molly and Alice hug their father and happily get into the taxi, sitting in the back, Alice holding a doll which she places next to her on the seat.

Carol kisses Dave on the cheek and climbs into the cab with the girls. As you watch them leave your mind is filled with question marks, it didn't seem like a traumatic departure but you know they are the best at keeping up appearances. And deep down, what do you really know about Carol and Dave? What really happens when the doors are closed and they are far from the rest of the world? Are they really the perfect family they pretend to be?

Dave is on the sidewalk waving to the cab pulling away, as soon as it's far enough away he turns to look at you and winks.

Series tag list:

@penascigarette @syd-djarin @almostempty @aurorawritestoescape @joelalorian @milla-frenchy @baronessvonglitter @cas-readsandwrites @sunnytuliptime @foreveratlantica-blog @peppermintfury @drewharrisonwriter @indiegirlunited @darkheartgatita @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @rosebuds-and-moonlight

If you want to be added or removed, just let me know, thank you so much for reading ♥️

[dixons-sunshine]

Yielding Isn't My Middle Name—Chapter Two | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: You and Daryl get a little bit more insight on your ambushers. The leader, Liam, is extremely suspicious, but you just can't figure out why. And to top it off, a certain secret of yours gets revealed that changes everything.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 3.6k.

A/n: It's finally done. I powered through and got it done. Yay me! However, this chapter is pretty boring with limited action, but I hope y'all like this nonetheless!

Taglist: @dixons-girl89, @jupiter1700, @enlightndone, @shadowcitrine, @ddamm (comment/DM/inbox to be added!)

“I know, it's a lot to take in at first.” With a grand gesture and a big, inviting smile, Liam proudly showed off the beautiful landscape behind him, putting all of the luxuries they had on display for you and Daryl to see—well, as far as luxuries could go in a world ran by the undead. “But I promise you, as soon as you get settled into your new...” There was a slight pause before he continued. “...chambers, a wonderful life most certainly awaits you.”

The leader's voice barely reached your ears. The whole scenario baffled you; if they wanted you to join their community, why feel the need to ambush and kidnap you? Why tie you up and throw you in the back of a van, with a sack over your head to obscure your vision, most likely as a way to ensure you didn't know what turns they took? And why wouldn't they just ask you whether or not you wanted to join the community in the first place?

A million thoughts ran with the speed of light through your mind, but there was one thing you knew for sure; you didn't trust this Liam guy, and you certainly didn't trust this community. You could immediately tell that something was off. You couldn't figure out just yet what about it unnerved you so much.

“Dave, Marco.” At the sound of their names being called, the two guys who stood beside you and Daryl perked up, their backs straightening as they regarded their leader. “Make sure that the cooks make enough food for our newest additions. And,” he began, looking at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Whether it was real or not, you didn't know yet. “Call up doctor Miller and tell him to expect two patients.”

“Why two?” one of the goons questioned. He looked at Daryl in disgust, something that irked you beyond belief. “Only the sexy lady here seems like she needs it.”

From the corner of your eye, you could clearly see Daryl tense up. To the untrained eye, they wouldn't even have noticed the way the archer's body language shifted, but you caught it. Of course you caught it. You knew Daryl better than anyone, and you knew that he was getting more pissed off by the second. One wrong move, and that man was more dead than the monster's that roamed the earth.

“Jesus, Dave,” Liam reprimanded him, clicking his tongue and shaking his head in disappointment. “You knocked the guy out with some hardcore stuff. We don't know how much of the fumes he inhaled. I don't want to take any chances. Our guests need to be properly checked out.”

Dave grumbled something under his breath, but ultimately agreed. However, right before he and the other man, who you assumed to be Marco, walked off in the direction of a small building, he stopped next to Liam and whispered something in his ear. The leader nodded before waving him off. They left and soon disappeared, and your attention quickly got drawn to the leader again.

Liam turned back to regard you and your husband. His lips formed into a tight smile, his eyes squinting with the pull of the muscles. For some reason, the action sent a shiver up your spine, and definitely not the good kind you'd experience when Daryl softly traced his fingers over your back. You had a lot to be wary of, and this Liam guy certainly didn't make a very good first impression on you or Daryl. You were sure that your husband wanted to lunge at the man and pound his face into the ground with his bare hands, and you definitely didn't blame him. You wanted to do the exact same thing.

Liam motioned to someone over your shoulder. In moments, somebody was grabbing at your shoulders and hoisting you up onto your feet. You stumbled a bit, not tumbling back to the ground only because Liam stepped forward to steady you. You instantly jerked back, moving away from his touch. You would've punched him for even thinking of touching you when he was the reason you were probably light-years away from your friends and family, but the rope tightly binding your hands stopped you from doing so.

You heard grunting coming from behind you. You spun around and saw the same goon practically manhandling your husband, forcing him up to his feet. When Daryl struggled against his hold, the man decided that punching him would be a good decision. The sight of Daryl being knocked back down to the gravel unleashed a certain protectiveness in you, and you took a warning step forward.

“You stay the fuck away from him, and keep your goddamn hands to yourself!” you yelled in anger, moving over to your husband and sinking down to your knees beside him. You thanked your lucky stars that your hands were bound in front of you and not behind your back, because it allowed you to trace your fingers over his face, searching for any bleeding. “Baby—”

“M'alrigh',” Daryl mumbled, glaring up at his attacker, his eyes alight with the fire of a thousand suns. “Asshole punches like a girl. No offense, Peach.”

You gave him a small smile. “None taken.” You helped him sit back up with a lot of effort, your hands straining against the rope and getting rope burn in the process. You clambered up onto your knees and carefully stood up, struggling to maintain your balance. Daryl followed your lead, and soon the two of you were stood in front of the leader.

Liam gazed at the two of you thoughtfully, his face unreadable. His green eyes flickered between you and Daryl for a moment too long for your liking before he readapted his smile. “Sorry about that, mate,” he began, his gaze landing on Daryl before moving over to the goon that had just attacked Daryl a few moments prior. “Peter just doesn't know how to behave himself.” The aforementioned man cowered under his leader's gaze, something you instantly picked up on and locked in the back of your mind. “Don't worry, he'll be punished appropriately.”

“Sir, please, I'm so—”

“Save it,” Liam snapped, glaring at the man harshly. “You know the rules, Peter. All actions have consequences. Those are the rules. If I ease up on you, the next person will expect me to do so and order will be disrupted.” He stopped for a few moments, simply staring at Peter with an unreadable look in his eyes. “You are dismissed. I expect you to be in my office in two hours. If you're not, well, you know what will happen.”

Whether that last part was a warning or a threat, you didn't know. However, what you did know was that for whatever reason, this Peter guy was deathly terrified of his leader. He visibly slumped and averted his eyes from everyone as he hurried away, practically bolting as if being chased by something.

Now being left alone with Liam, your eyes locked with the man's green ones. You couldn't quite place your finger on it, but there was something wrong with the man in front of you. He reminded you a lot of the Governor, the more you thought about it, but at the same time, he was different. It annoyed you to no end that you couldn't quite figure out exactly what about the green-eyed man made you feel cautious.

Well, his men ambushed and kidnapped you and your husband, so that was a pretty good place to start.

“Once again, I am so incredibly sorry about that,” Liam started, his face adapting a look of sympathy. “Peter is a rather new addition to my ‘police force’, so to speak. He hasn't quite learned that we don't resort to violence unless it's an absolute necessity.” He stopped for a second, looking at you before sighing. “Miss, I truly am sorry about what Peter did to you as well. Please excuse me for saying this again, but you do look like shit.”

You couldn't understand what this man's deal was. Merely a few minutes ago, while he was surrounded by multiple of his men, he had seemingly mocked you about the injuries you had sustained. However, now he was apologizing and being sympathetic? What was this man's motive?

“Now, Daryl and Y/N, I believe?” Liam began, successfully gaining confused and guarded looks from both you and your husband.

“How the hell do ya know tha'?” Daryl barked defensively, straightening his back to appear larger—almost as if he was facing a bear.

Liam's lips twitched up into a small wicked smirk at the archer, but he very quickly disguised it with a welcoming smile. “I know a lot of things, mate.” He shrugged his shoulders and motioned to the farmland surrounding you. “I need to know things to keep my people safe. They depend on me, you know?”

“Still doesn't answer my goddamn question,” Daryl practically growled, taking a threatening step towards the man. “How the fuck do ya know our names?”

Liam didn't falter under the Dixon man's harsh glare. If anything, he straightened his posture and met Daryl head-on, his height adding an advantage over the archer. However, having known your husband for a long time, you knew it was time to intervene before he started a fight he wouldn't be able to finish. His hands were tied and Liam had who knows how many people to back him up. The two of you were heavily outnumbered and outgunned.

“Daryl,” you called to him softly, raising your tied hands to gently grip his shoulder. “I really don't think that's the thing we should be concerned about right now. It doesn't matter if he knows our names. What matters is that we have to get the fuck out of here. We do that by playing along for now,” you mumbled into his ear, quiet enough to not alert Liam of your plan.

Daryl glared at the leader of the community for a few moments longer before stepping back, sharing a determined look with you. You gave him a small smile before turning back to Liam, regarding the green-eyed man with a strained, fake smile.

“I'm sorry about him,” you began, your voice sickeningly sweet. You were taking a page out of Carol's book—you were playing the wolf in sheep's clothing, biding your time until you and Daryl could strike back. You could only hope that your earlier outburst towards Peter wouldn't be used to call your bluff. “It's just that we weren't brought here under the friendliest circumstances. And now you know our names and it's a bit creepy. He's being wary.”

“For good reason,” Liam replied with a nod, motioning for you and Daryl to follow him. You shared a look with Daryl before following behind the man, Daryl following close behind. “You can't be sure about the dangerous pricks that are out there.”

“Ironic, ain't it?” Daryl grumbled lowly, glaring at Liam through his hair as the two of you followed behind the leader. He received a slight jab to his stomach from your elbow, and he let out a soft grunt.

“You see, that's why we built this place.” Liam walked on and motioned to the fields on his left. There were multiple people working on the crops; some watering, some picking, and some planting. You couldn't be completely sure, but you swore you saw a faint glint of metal wrapped around most of the workers' legs. Were you just out of it from the pain in your head, or were those shackles?

“Well, built is the wrong word. We found this farm back when everything first went to shit. The crops and the farmhouse were luckily still standing. We... expanded, so to speak. We built the walls to keep the flesh eaters out and built more homes on the property to house our growing population.” He stopped and turned back to you and Daryl. “I hope you don't mind, but you'll have to stay in the farm house with me for the time being. We're busy building new homes but it won't be ready for another couple of weeks, maybe months.”

“Jus' one question 'fore we decide,” Daryl began, stepping forward. “Why'd ya have to bring us here by force? Why didn't ya jus' ask us to come here instead of kidnappin' us?”

Liam stared at Daryl with a blank expression on his face. His face didn't give anything away, and it unnerved you beyond belief. However, he soon gave the two of you yet another smile. You were genuinely starting to wonder if his face was starting to hurt from the excessive amount of smiling.

“There's a reason for everything, champ. However, not everyone is allowed to know my reasonings to the things I do. That's reserved for the people I trust. But do know that I did it for your own goods. Between you and me, that entire building was surrounded by flesh eaters. You most certainly would've died without my men.”

“Wha' the hell do ya know 'bout—”

“Sir? I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but Dr Miller is ready for the new arrivals,” a small, timid woman spoke up, gaining the attention of you, Daryl and Liam.

“Ah, Mariah,” Liam spoke, nodding at her in greeting. He turned back to you and Daryl, using his hand to motion towards the woman. “Please follow her to Dr Miller. He'll make sure to patch you up and ensure you're fit and ready for tomorrow.” He walked a few steps backwards and clapped his hands twice. “Welcome to Sunny Meadows! Come meet me in the farm house once you're done.”

With that, he turned around and stalked off, leaving you and Daryl alone with the woman, Mariah. The aforementioned woman turned to look at the two of you. She was nervously fidgeting with her hands, her posture slouched and her eyes couldn't decide whether to focus on you, your husband, your wounds, the ropes tying your hands together, or the ground. You were confused by her obvious fear towards you. What people was she used to dealing with? Did she really think that you were going to hurt her?

“Please follow me,” she stammered out with a nervous squeak, turning around and speeding off into the direction of the very same building those other men, Dave and Marco, had disappeared into earlier.

You hesitantly started following her. Daryl grumbled and followed your lead, glaring at any person who dared to lock eyes with him. You had to withhold your chuckles at your husband, knowing that it was neither the time nor place for that. Under normal circumstances, you'd laugh at your husband's antics. But not now. Not when your main priority was getting the hell out of that place.

You soon arrived at the makeshift medical building. You followed her in, taking in the pure doctor-like feel of the building. If you didn't know any better and somebody had blindfolded you and brought you here, you would've believed that this was a legitimate doctor's office. But you did know better.

A man, who you presumed to be this doctor Miller character everyone was talking about, placed a syringe down on the table and gave you all inviting smiles. “Welcome!” he greeted you enthusiastically—and rather loudly, too. You winced at the sound, being painfully reminded of the incessant throbbing in your skull. “You both look rather terrible. Who should I focus on first?”

“Owen,” Mariah began in a soft voice. “If I may, maybe the woman? She took quite the beating.”

“Peter?” the doctor inquired, shaking his head and sighing when Mariah nodded. “That man has sent more patients my way than any scavenging trip accident has. I don't even know why your husband still keeps him around.”

Wait, husband? Liam was Mariah's husband? Then why was he treating her like that? Why was she so scared of him? A million different possibilities ran through your mind for the obvious fear the woman held towards her husband, and none of them were good. Daryl's ocean coloured eyes locked with your eyes. He visibly shared the same confusion as you. However, the doctor's orders caught your attention.

“Mariah, is it really necessary to have their hands tied? I can see the irritation from here. Please remove their binds.” Doctor Miller stopped for a moment, regarding you and Daryl with a thoughtful look. “Sir, ma'am, speaking from experience, please don't try to run or attack once those binds are removed. Whenever there's a new addition, the walls are very guarded. You'll be shot instantly.”

Mariah gingerly removed the ropes from your arms and tried to remove Daryl's. However, your husband flinched back at the foreign touch, making the woman confused. You simply gently pushed her aside and moved over to him, starting to untie his binds. This time, Daryl stood still, and in no time at all, his hands were freed. He rubbed his wrists, the rope burns visible.

“Alright,” the doctor started. “Ma'am, please lay down on the bed. I'll tend to you shortly. Sir, you may take a seat on that chair next to the bed while you wait.”

You looked out of the window and weighed your options. However, the doctor wasn't lying; there were multiple guards patrolling the walls in the distance. There also were guards walking up to the makeshift medical building, most likely being sent to ensure you and Daryl didn't try anything.

You had no other option. You had to continue playing along.

You slowly walked over to the bed and laid down. Daryl hesitantly plopped himself down on the chair next to the bed, his eyes darting around the room. He was clearly trying to think of an escape plan, but he wasn't succeeding.

“Alright,” Doctor Miller began, walking out of the side room and rolling a machine out with him.

You instantly knew what that machine was. “No, doctor, you can't. No, don't—”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Daryl stood up from the chair and glared at the doctor, his mind instantly assuming the worst at your reaction. “The hell is tha'?”

“Sir, please relax.” Mariah walked up to the side of the bed, grabbing a tube of some sort of gel from the drawer. “We have some new equipment we've been wanting to test out. We found this ultrasound machine yesterday. We just want to test it out and make sure it works.”

Your heart stopped beating. All at once, thoughts of your unborn baby flooded your mind. You couldn't believe that you had forgotten about the fact that you were pregnant. With everything that happened, your mind neglected to remind you of that pivotal fact. And now everyone was going to know, including your husband who you had yet to tell.

“Doc, I don't think that's a good idea,” you warned him, pleaded with him, but the man didn't listen.

“Nonsense. This'll be over before you know it. It won't hurt, I promise you.”

“Ma'am, can I lift your shirt?” Too frozen to answer her, you simply stared. Deciding for you, Mariah lifted your shirt a bit and opened the tube with the gel. “This might be a bit cold.”

The cold was the least of your worries. You had taken quite the beating. What if your baby was hurt? What if your baby was dead? What if the doctor couldn't find a heartbeat? All of those thoughts flooded your mind, so much so that you barely heard Daryl talking to the doctor.

“Why does she need'a do tha'? Can't some other chick do this?”

“I was going to ask someone to come in today to test it, but she's here now. Might as well get it out of the way.” Doctor Miller started with the exam, placing the object on your stomach and moving it around. At first, the screen didn't pick up a thing, and that made you want to cry. However, the steady thumping of a heartbeat could soon be heard, and a small figure appeared on the screen.

“Oh, wow. That's a strong heartbeat,” Doctor Owen Miller told you with a smile, the ultrasound depicting a growing baby. “Congratulations, you two.”

Your heart was attempting to jump out of your chest. It was amazing to you that the little blob on the screen would soon develop into a baby, your baby. You would pick out their name and scavenge for things for your little one, and you're sure Daryl would—

Oh, god. Daryl.

Slowly looking over to your left, you locked eyes with your husband. Instead of finding the love, affection and adoration that usually swam in his ocean coloured eyes, you found something else. You found anger, shock, worry, but above all else? You could see a renewed sense of determination in his eyes.

The archer was pissed at you for hiding your pregnancy and convincing him to let you wander beyond the walls, but he couldn't think about that. He had to get you to safety, away from these monsters. He had to keep you and your unborn baby safe.

The doctor should've heeded your warning. The doctor never should've insisted to take an ultrasound. Because of doctor Owen Miller, Daryl Dixon was determined. Daryl Dixon was going to tear that whole place apart, and anyone who dared to lay a finger on you would meet an agonizing end.

The people of Sunny Meadows were going to pay.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 7)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Weekend getaway :)

Warnings: Suggestive themes aaaaandd a little of that internalize homophobia again

Author's Note: NO BETA BC THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GOOD LORD IM SORRY FOLKS! I moved and started a new job and I leave for Europe in a week so life has been NUTS

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Melissa led the way through the front doors of the hotel. You could tell she was excited by the highly animated way in which she spoke to you. She used her hands and fingers to gesture to you and she lingered close to you with her last word, “This weekend is about three things: the endless buffet, laying by the pool, and sex.”

The corners of your lips rose as her lips neared your own. There were still a few inches between you, but you knew that was plenty close for a place as public as a hotel lobby, “In that order too?”

Your response made the redhead laugh as both of her hands squeezed your bicep. You lost yourself for a moment while you watched her grin at you. It was the voice of a man that unfortunately ripped her eyes from you, “Melissa?” 

As she turned to face the voice, her red hair flicked over her shoulder with the spin of her head. When her eyes landed on the familiar face of her ex boyfriend, her smile faded, but her tone remained polite, “Hey, Gare.”

A brief silence fell between the former lovers (as did a thick awkwardness), and you waited patiently for one of them to speak up. Gary was the first to break the silence when he noticed Melissa’s eyes wander over to the brunette at his side, “Oh, this is my girlfriend - Lea Ann”

Melissa only nodded, remaining silent and giving a faux smile to the lofty man. It was when he realized Melissa had very little interest engaging with Gary and Lea Ann that Gary decided to turn his attention to you. With a kind smile, he reached out his hand, offering it to you along with his name, “Gary.”

“Y/N.” You return the smile and handshake, surprised at the way his face lit up at hearing your name.

“Mel told me about you when we were dating.” He quipped while wrapping his arm around Lea Ann’s shoulders, hugging her to his side. He seemed genuinely delighted to make your acquaintance - it made you wonder why Melissa refused to commit to something more serious with him.

You folded your arms over your chest, glancing down at Melissa and then back to Gary again, “Did she now?”

Gary was highly enthusiastic with how he spoke to you, recalling memories Melissa had shared with him months ago, “Of course. You were her date to the senior prom after some punk ditched her.”

You couldn’t hide your pleasure in knowing Melissa had talked about you in her previous relationship. You had always assumed she would have kept even your friendship a secret. With a great big smile, you bump your shoulder against hers lightly, “I mean, how could I say no to a face like that?”

Melissa gave a reluctant smile, changing the subject away from your relationship, “What are you guys doin’ out here?”

Gary eagerly squeezed Lea Ann to his side once more and beamed at her. The brunette shifted into his side, wrapping an arm behind his back to better lean against him. It was clear they were enamored with one another, “Early anniversary trip. Lea Ann and I met at Dave & Busters not too long after we broke up. She is real good at skeeball.” 

Lea Ann added to the conversation with a shy voice, “How about you guys?”

“A trip for old times’ sake.” Melissa’s response contained a tone that was anything other than warm. While some might not have noticed, you saw her turn snarky and her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. It was obvious to you Melissa was offended by what she thought was Lea Ann’s ‘nosiness’. The redhead folded her arms over her chest, indicating she was finished with the conversation.

Gary knew Mel well enough to give a curt nod and guide Lea Ann away from you both, “Well, I hope you two have a great time.’

“Yeah, you too.” Your voice fell as they walked away - knowing full well Melissa would be upset at this interaction when you arrived at the hotel room.

—

You shifted awkwardly near the door of the hotel room. Melissa had abandoned her luggage in the middle of the room and tossed her purse on the bed before dropping into the chair into the corner to scroll on her phone. She seemed increasingly detached from you since you had spoken to Gary. 

While the detachment made you furious, you gave her a chance to tell you how she was feeling before you spiraled, “Everything okay?”

She didn’t even look up from her phone when she replied. If anything, she seemed annoyed that you would even ask such a question, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Biting your tongue, you turn your back to her with a huff and tug open the door, “I’m gonna go downstairs.”

—

You twist the glass of dark liquor in your hand, mindlessly watching the ice swirl about in the liquid. A fire had been lit in your stomach at the realization that nothing had changed between Melissa and you. She still refused to admit her feelings for you or the opposite sex. Of course you were infuriated, but it was more of a rage fueled sadness had you refusing to look at Melissa who sat (im)patiently next to you. 

“You gotta work with me here. It’s one thing to take a weekend away together, but it’s a whole other thing to be tellin’ people that we are a couple.” Melissa sounded colder than she would have wanted, but there was no taking the words back now. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second.

It was clear Melissa didn’t truly understand why you were upset with the entire situation. With a deep sigh, you chose to explain your feelings to her, “I don’t mind that we aren’t official or whatever. I don’t even care that this is so casual. I just can’t be your dirty little secret anymore.”

“It isn’t like that.” 

Her reply was quick, but you weren’t convinced. “Melissa… Anytime someone gets remotely close to the truth, you get all spooked and then I have to deal with the consequences.”

The redhead chewed at the inside of her cheek, unsure of what to say to you. She remained facing forward, her fingers absentmindedly ripping at the napkin placed in front of her by the bartender. Mel furrowed her brow as she spoke, “I’m not spooked. I just don’t want people all up in my business.”

You weren’t convinced.

“Either way... You know how I feel about you... how I have always felt about you, and I-” In an instant, you regret opening your mouth. You could see a faint blush spreading across her cheeks from the corner of your eye. As always, you had gotten ahead of yourself, and now it was time for you to finish explaining your emotions before Melissa found a way to steer the conversation away from the vulnerability it was currently steeped in, “For me, it feels like you’re ashamed... of me, and it’s not a great feeling.”

Melissa glared at you for a few moments, and then you saw her left hand reach out to hold you by the back of the neck to pull your lips to hers. Your heart began pounding in your chest as you felt Mel’s teeth teasing your bottom lip and her right hand creep up to the middle of your thigh.

When she pulled her lips away from yours, her voice was low, “I’m sorry I made ya’ feel that way. I could never be ashamed of you.”

Regardless of the people sitting all around, you dove back in for another kiss. You felt her melting into you. With every second you kissed her, Melissa inched closer to the point in which she had slipped off her chair to stand between your knees. Her hands braced against your thighs and breasts pressed to your chest. 

The redhead was breathing heavily when she finally drew her lips away from yours. She had turned her head to glance around the room in search of prying eyes when you buried your nose in her hair. 

After Melissa’s worries of being watched were soothed by the absence of onlookers, she turned back to you, capturing your face in her hands. She spoke in a low tone which caused you to swallow hard, “Let’s go upstairs, hon.” She took your hand, tugging you along after her towards the hotel lobby. 

The deafening chorus of casino games, live music, and both winning and losing gamblers was all but a mere whisper to you the moment Melissa peered over her shoulder at you with a smile - a smile that only confirmed your long standing love for her.  

When she had you in the elevator, you were up against the wall before the door was closed with her mouth against yours. Mel was busy trailing her lipstick from your lips to your neck as you choked out a dizzied concern, “We are... going to miss our... uh, dinner reservations.”

“Where at?” Melissa was far too busy tasting your collarbone to give much attention to the thought of going out for dinner. She was far more interested in getting you up to your hotel room to get more acquainted with the hotel bed.

“Some fancy steakhouse.” You murmur before returning her fervor. By now the elevator doors were shut and neither of you had given much more thought to pressing a button to get the elevator moving. Instead you were more consumed with the urge to turn the tables on Melissa and press her against the elevator wall. 

Melissa’s hands were woven tightly into your hair as you pinned her to the wall. Your force only propelled her further into the raging desire she felt for you. Mel didn’t need to use any words to convey how much she needed you. Everything about your kisses was sloppy and steeped in desire. 

She allowed one of her hands to wander to the back of your neck as your lips drifted down her neck to her cleavage. The redhead held you tight with one arm while the other clumsily reached to illuminate the button to floor 15, “We can just order pizza.”

Her efforts to get the elevator headed towards your floor weren’t swift enough. The elevator dinged and the doors to the lobby parted, allowing a familiar tall, bald headed man and his brunette girlfriend onto the elevator with you both. 

With the introduction of Gary and Lea-Ann onto the elevator, Mel and you partially parted. She kept an arm around you with a hand resting on your hip and her body was pressed to yours as she suppressed a coy smile. Melissa raised a manicured hand to her lips, attempting to tidy her smeared lipstick with her thumb. All the while she stared at you down like a starved lion. 

Your heart was pounding and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. It took everything in you not to confess your love then and there. She was beautiful like this - seemingly liberated of her shame and enthralled with the premise of being caught in such a public act of affection. 

Gary was obviously confused by your closeness and he cocked his head, needing to double check to see if it was really Melissa who was really pinned into the corner of the elevator by you, “Melissa?”

“Oh, hey.” She cleared her throat and acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. You attempted to move your hands from her waist, but her hand caught your wrist to prevent you from pulling away. 

The elevator devolved into silence as it began moving to the upper floors. You couldn’t see the looks on Gary or Lea-Ann’s faces as you were too busy watching every shift in Melissa’s expressions. You wondered if this would be the end of your relationship. Your heart was pounding and you were growing anxious at the thought of the potential rejection headed your way. The only thing that kept you from completely losing it was Melissa’s manicured hand on the back of your neck, softly twirling your loose locks between her digits. 

Her eyes flickered between the rising elevator numbers, your company, and the elevator doors. Melissa was terrified of who Gary could tell. Through all of her family and friends, she knew this moment could reach someone she knew in a matter of hours. Her personal fears were being slowly subdued by her own willpower. As her eyes drifted back up to your face, they were now filled with a subtle determination to prove herself to you. 

Melissa pushed against your abdomen so you would step aside, but she kept both hands on you as she talked to Gary, “How’s your night goin’?”

“Good. I- I didn’t know you two were-” Gary couldn’t hide an ounce of his confusion at seeing you together. 

“Together? Yeah, well... Now you know.” The redhead finished his sentence before adding her own bit of attitude at the end of her thought. A lump formed in the back of her throat at admitting your relationship out loud, but there was no taking it back now. 

While Melissa was dealing with her own inner turmoil, you were relishing in the fact that Melissa described you two as being ‘together’. You were riding that high even after the elevator stopped on your floor and Mel took your hand to pull you after her. 

It was Melissa who lifted your arm to place around her shoulders when you stepped off the elevator. She also turned back to face her ex boyfriend with a cheeky grin, “Have a good night you two.”

Link to Chapter 8

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore, @jeridandridge @petty-femme27, @darkcolorphantom, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @cosmichymns

[baronessvonglitter]

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 8

Rom Com AU divorce laywer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring private investigator!Tim Rockford and plumber!Joel Miller)

Word count: 4,653

Summary: Secrets are unearthed at the infamous Starlight Motel. Are you and Dave strong enough to face them?

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for smut and allusions to smut. Fluff. Unprotected piv. Nipple play. Fingering. Mentions of infidelity. Catching cheaters in the act. Mild violence/blood/injury. A bit of the male gaze for laughs. Secret m/m relationship. References to embezzlement and crime. Reader wears a dress/skirt. No use of y/n.

Author's note: at the end

Series Masterlist

Maybe it's the caveman instinct in him, but after hearing that you've only ever been with Javier before him, Dave makes it his priority to bring you pleasure in every way possible. After leaving your store, you make your way to your place, getting lost in each other all over again.

He lives for the breathy way you say his name as he thrusts into you, the sweet sound of your gasps when he angles your hips just so to reach the hidden spot inside you.

There's not much sleep to be had that night, your eyes finally closing as the dawn hours approach. It just feels right to wake up next to you, to watch the late morning light dance across your skin, glinting in your hair.

"Have I told you how handsome you are?"

Resting his head in your lap, his face lights up at your words. He can get used to hearing compliments like this, especially from you.

"You're only saying that because you like my work down here," his large hand splays across your thighs as he winks.

"Maybe I am a little biased," you smile back.

Maple looks up from her corner of the room, eyeing you and crying for attention until you pat the bed, inviting her up to sit with you.

Scratching Maple's little ears, Dave looks like he belongs here. Not necessarily the house itself, with just the one bedroom, but he belongs in your life, of that you're sure. You can easily envision a home with him, weekends with the girls, movie nights and board games. Even if you never have your own kids, you know you'd be a good mom to Dave's girls.

That evening you start on a late dinner, his hands wrapped around you as you stand at the stove over a simmering pot, giggling as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck. You could get used to simple domesticity with him.

A simple dinner of pasta, sauteed chicken and spinach, paired with your favorite wine, is the perfect ending to the day. As the violet light filters through the kitchen window you fill up the dishwasher, cleaning the remains of the day as Dave sneaks up behind you, planting a kiss on the back of your neck.

Smiling, you turn slowly and envelop him in an embrace, kissing him full on the lips, wanting him again, wanting him always.

Dave groans into the kiss, pressing his body more firmly against yours. He lifts you up onto the counter and steps between your legs, his hands roaming under your shirt, desperate for you again. His lips trail across your throat, his voice rough with longing. "I can't wait any longer.. I need you right now."

"Mmm.. Dave.. fuck me right here.."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and practically tears them off. Then he pulls your shirt off over your head, leaving you in just your bra. He nips at your neck again as he deftly unclasps your bra, his actions led by the primal desire to remind you that you're his.

"How'd you do that so fast?" you chuckle.

He smirks, pulling your bra away to reveal you, now gloriously naked before him. "I'm just good with my hands, baby."

"I know.."

As much as a hurry he was in to get you naked, he slows it down, taking a moment to revel in your beauty, thankful to whatever fate brought you together. He caresses your breasts, sucking each nipple and lightly tweaking each one in turn.

"Taste so sweet," he murmurs, cupping each one in his large palm as he lifts your skirt up. "And so fucking wet.."

His fingers delve inside you as his other hand pulls down his pants, releasing his throbbing hardness. It's like he can't get enough of you.

Pulling you to the counter edge, flush with his own body, he rolls his hips against yours, the friction against his cock almost enough to make him come right then. Your desperate whimpers remind him to take control, to make this good for you. Your pleasure is his pleasure. "Tell me what you want, baby," he growls, low and rough in your ear.

A shiver runs through you. You love this side of him. "Want you inside me.."

He guides himself to your entrance, his blood thrumming like a low, primal drumbeat as he teases your folds, delighting in each hitch of your breath, watching how your core quivers in sweet anticipation. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you, Dave," you gasp, "more than I've ever wanted anyone."

He fights the urge to slam his whole length into you, instead feeding it into you slowly, watching himself disappear into your cunt. The sound you make is the sweetest music, your head tipped forward, and he realizes you're watching with him, needing to see the true connection of your bodies.

"Wait, I want to feel you," you whisper.

He freezes, every muscle tense as he holds back. Your warmth surrounds him, taking every ounce of willpower he has not to start moving again. He leans in, his forehead resting on your shoulder. "Y-yeah, baby. I'm right here," his voice comes out strained and rough.

"Ravish me," you whisper, and he growls, all restraint gone. He captures your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss, his hips finally moving against yours, claiming you in every way possible.

One of your hands pulls his hair while the other helps prop you up against the counter. His head ducks down, lips finding your neck, his tongue and teeth teasing your skin, leaving marks in their wake. Perched on the edge of the counter, thighs open wide, he thrusts into you as if his life depends on it. Hearing your desperate cries urges him on, holding back just enough, because even though he's had you several times already, you could still get him to come in a few strokes, just like he's a damn teenager all over again.

"Rub that sweet little clit for me," he whispers, his hands gripping the globes of your ass as he feels you close to the edge, your tight channel quivering around him. "You're almost there, baby. I'm gonna get you there," he grunts, keeping the same pace until your thighs lock around him in an effort to fuck yourself right on him. "That's it, that's it, fucking use me," he groans, letting you work him until you scream his name, your pussy milking him into his own orgasm. Filling you up is officiallly his favorite thing to do, and he stays lodged within you as long as he can to keep close to you.

He pulls you against him, his body still shuddering with the aftershocks of his climax, fingers tangling in your soft locks. "You undo me, baby.."

"You're perfect," you whisper.

"I'm far from perfect, darling, but I appreciate the sentiment." He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You, on the other hand.."

His phone rings and he lets out a frustrated sigh, taking a quick moment to answer Tim's call. He reluctantly untangles himself from you. "You've got awful timing, you know that, Rockford?"

"That's the nicest thing anyone's said about me this week," Tim says stoically. "I'm just calling to make sure you're still coming to the motel tonight to confront Carol and Mr. Miller."

Dave doesn't like letting Joel the unscrupulous plumber being referred to as "Mister" as if he deserves the least amount of respect. He groans, knowing he has to get back to reality to deal with his wife. "Yeah, I'll be there tonight." He takes down the address and agrees to meet Tim there.

You watch as he ends the call. "So you're really going?"

"Believe me when I say I'd rather spend all night here with you," he says, cupping your chin. "But I need to confront her and get this over with."

You put your hand on his. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"You'd do that?"

"Of course.. I'd do anything for you, Dave.."

He brings you hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Thank you, baby. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Whatever happens tonight, we'll face it together."

Molly and Alice are spending the night at their friend's house, leaving Carol free to meet with Joel, and Dave free to catch them in the act.

Neither of you speak much as you drive up to the Starlight Motel, a typical charge-by-the-hour place to house people who want their dealings kept secret. Red neon advertises the name, above a sign heralding free HBO and adult channels.

Dave's car pulls up right alongside Tim's nondescript black vehicle. Anticipation is thick in the air between you.

"Are you nervous?" you ask as Dave turns off the engine. You're both sitting in the darkened car.

"Yeah," he answers, sighing, a sense of dread deep in the pit of his stomach. "I don't know how I'm going to feel about seeing her with someone else.."

You rub his arm soothingly, wishing you could kiss away all his worries and they'd magically go away. "She never deserved you, Dave."

"I know." When he looks at you, gratitude and pain are etched into the tired lines around his eyes. "It's still hard, you know? To think she's willingly throwing away years of our marriage-"

Tim knocks on the driver's side window, interrupting. "Hey, they're in room 103. They just went in about twenty minutes ago. You still want to do this, Mr. York?"

Dave takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to encounter. He's used to rehearsing what he's going to say before a trial or a mediation, but now that the moment is about him, he's relying on pure instinct.

"Yeah. I need to do this. Let's go."

As much as you want to be at Dave's side, Tim convinces you it's best for you to stay out of the way, citing that it wouldn't look well for Dave to confront his cheating wife while his girlfriend is with him.

Leaving you back at the car, the lawyer and the PI make their way to the motel room. "You and her ever.. date?" Dave asks Tim, a random question to quell the rising apprehension in his chest.

Tim blushes, or maybe it's the neon sign illuminating his face. "No, it was never like that with us. Strictly business," he assures Dave. "Besides, I'm.. kind of seeing someone."

"Oh. That's great," Dave says encouragingly, a little bit of relief going through him before they approach room 103.

The sounds coming from within set a stab of jealousy and anger flare up in Dave's gut. A man and woman, moaning, gasping, cursing.

"You're sure there in this room?" Dave asks, suddenly frozen to the spot.

They're really going at it..

"This is the one," Tim says. "Do you want to knock or should I?" A gun is in his holster at his side, a fact he keeps hidden from Dave, not wanting to alarm him. Sometimes even an easy thing like this can go badly, especially where adultery is involved.

Dave nods that he'll do it, takes a deep breath and attempts to shut out the obscene noises coming from within. He raises his hand and raps firmly on the door.

The sounds stop and there's a shuffling, like blankets tossed aside. A man opens the door with a sheet around his waist. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back, deep-set brown eyes narrowed in annoyance at being interrupted. "What the hell do you want?" he asks in a deep, gravelly, Texan accent.

Dave freezes, the sight of this man who Carol has risked everything to meet up with and spend time with, is like a punch in the gut. Joel Miller. But he forces himself to remain composed, his heart thudding in his chest and his voice cold and measured.

"I'm looking for my wife."

There's a gasp from within as Carol hides under the duvet. Dave's gaze hardens. "I know she's in there, now let me in."

He shoves past Joel, with Tim pushing the door open before it can be closed on him.

Dave almost pities his wife in this moment, watching her try to hide as if he really wouldn't find her. "You were never very good at being subtle, were you, Carol?"

She groans, sitting up and covering herself. She casts an irked glance at Tim, who's explaining the situation to Joel, keeping him at arm's length so Dave can speak with her.

"I can explain," she says, wincing when Dave gives a bitter scoff.

"Can you? Can you really? I'm standing in a room where you were just caught in bed with another man, and you think you can explain this away?"

"You pushed me towards this!" she fights back. "You were always working late, or out of town. I wanted something for myself!"

Dave can hardly believe what he's hearing. He always thought Carol to be smarter than this, but here she is, using the lamest excuse in the book. "You wanted something for yourself, so you decided to cheat on me instead of talking to me about how unhappy you were? Or leaving me, or even just asking for a divorce?" His jaw tightens in anger and disbelief.

"I don't want a damn divorce, Dave. I just want to be with Joel now and then, okay?"

This must be a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare he'll wake up from, only to find you there next to him in bed, slumbering peacefully as he plants a good morning kiss on your shoulder.

You are the only reason he's not completely falling apart at the seams right now.

"Is that how little you think of me?" he asks. "You love me just enough to keep me around, for what? You don't need my money, you barely pay attention to the kids. Just go off with this asshole, forget all about us, and live whatever goddamn fantasy you have built up in that head of yours."

"Dave-"

He whips around to address Joel, who's been letting the scene play out, amused.

"Did you know she was married? Did she even bother to tell you?"

Joel smirks, and Dave wants to punch him right on the jaw. "Look, buddy, she came onto me like a cat in heat. Would you turn down free pussy like that?"

Carol's hiding her face in her hands while Dave's own hands ball up into fists, Tim's voice barely registering in his ears, cautioning him to stay cool as he gets between him and Joel.

Heated words are exchanged, with Tim trying to get both men to calm down, shouting over both of them.

"What are you going to do now?" Carol asks, her voice small, humbled for once.

"You really want to know what I'm gonna do now? I'm gonna end this farce of a marriage, for starters. And I'm gonna expose you to our friends and family so they all know the kind of person you really are."

"Dave," she gasps, "you wouldn't!"

He's unrepentant, every word that comes out of his mouth more than she even deserves. If he was a worse person he'd leave without telling her. He'd pack up and take the girls away. "Don't tell me what I would and wouldn't do. Obviously we don't know each other that well anymore."

For the first time Carol looks truly contrite, but Dave steels himself against her manipulative ways. "At least let me clean up and we can talk about this. Please."

He nods begrudgingly, turning away as she goes to the bathroom. Soon the shower is heard running.

"You can have her," Dave tells Joel. "She's not my wife anymore. I guess she never was."

Joel scoffs. "She ain't worth the trouble. Crazy bitch thinks I'm in love with her. Maybe you take her," Joel tells Tim.

The PI looks disgusted. "Is that how you usually talk about women? I should've let Dave beat the shit out of you. Maybe then you'd have some sense knocked into you."

"Don't fucking talk about her that way," Dave agrees, casting Joel a repulsed glance. "Is it too late for me to beat the shit out of him?" he asks Tim.

"As if you fuckin' could," Joel sneers.

"Big talk from someone wearing a bedsheet around his waist," Tim rolls his eyes. "She's been in there a long time, hasn't she?"

Both Dave and Joel hurry to the restroom, finding it unlocked, the shower running with no one in it.

"She's gone. She left through the fucking window," Dave says, pushing past Joel and going around the side of the building.

Tim follows as Joel quickly puts his jeans on before running out as well.

There, in the alley behind the motel, is Carol, sprawled on her back, and you on top of her torso, pinning her down.

"Got her!" you announce, trying to catch your breath as you straddle Carol, your dress riding up your thighs and breasts spilling over the front of your dress.

For a full minute all three men stare in surprise and lust.

Waiting in the car, you get out for some fresh air, keeping an eye on the motel room as Dave and Tim went in. Your heart leaps in your throat. It's really happening..

What if he doesn't choose you? What if he decides Carol is what he wants?

You shake your head of these thoughts. Dave promised he wanted you and you alone. It's not just the promise you believe, but you trust the feeling you have when you're with him, that spark in the air that you've never experienced before, not even when you were in love with Javier.

There's no motion from the room. Maybe it's going to be a peaceful ending after all..

Grabbing a couple dollar bills from your purse you start towards the side of the building to get a soda from the machine. Right as a cold drink is deposited in the little receptacle, you grab it as you feel someone running towards you.

Not at you per se, but in your direction. You know her face immediately, though you've never met her before.

Carol.

She's in a bra and underwear, running into the alley behind the motel. Without a second thought you take off after her.

"Hey! Stop!" you call out, but she doesn't listen.

Running on adrenaline, you catch up with her, knocking her to the ground as you lose your footing, landing on top of her. You ignore the shock of pain throbbing in your scraped knees and shins as the three men come around the corner, finding you.

"What's going on here?" Dave asks, the first to be snapped out of his stupor.

"Let go of me, you bitch!" Carol growls, and while you're momentarily distracted by Dave, she backhands you, cutting your cheek with her ring.

The men come forward, helping you up while Joel pulls Carol off the ground, pinning her hands behind her back. "Actin' crazier than a damn feral cat," he hisses at her, his antipathy obvious.

"Are you okay?" Dave asks, tenderly touching your cheek, pulling back when you wince. "It's just a scratch, baby. We can fix it."

"Who the fuck is that?" Carol yells. "Fucking someone already, Dave? You've got to be kidding me!"

"Who she is is none of your damn business. You lost the right to question me about who I spend my time with when you decided to go crawling into bed with this scumbag," he glared at her and Joel.

"Scumbag? Fuck you and your bitch, you fuckin' asshole!" Joel approaches threateningly. Dave places you behind him to protect you.

"You better watch your goddamn mouth, pal, because the next thing coming out of it will be your own teeth if you don't stop talking about her like that."

"I don't think you've got the balls-"

Dave swings, his fist connecting solidly with Joel's jaw. He stumbles back, shock and surprise on his face as Carol immediately hovers over him, screaming at her husband.

"Baby," you softly take hold of Dave's other hand.

"I'm all right," he says, taking you in his arms and kissing you.

"Apologize," he says to Joel, cold as ice. "Tell her you're sorry."

Joel's wiping blood from his mouth, spitting it out on the ground. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"Didn't catch that."

"Sorry," he repeats, getting up and shoving Carol away from him.

Carol groans from the ground watching Joel leave her and watching you and Dave embracing. "Really??"

"Find somewhere else to sleep tonight, Carol," he tells her, wrapping his arm around you as you start to walk away. "I'll have your things packed up and ready for you to take."

The motel office has a first aid kit and a restroom for both you and Dave to clean yourselves up in. The desk clerk doesn't look happy about violence occurring on his property and advises you to get yourselves patched up and leave before he calls the cops. Tim stays at the desk to talk some sense into him as you and Dave share the small sink to clean your wounds.

The cut on your cheek is superficial and shouldn't leave a scar, but Dave cares for you gently nonetheless. He softly applies a butterfly bandage to your cheek, pressing a soft, healing kiss to it after, and tends to your scrapes on your knees and legs, cleaning the gravel out of the skin. His knuckles are bloody and brusied from when he decked Joel, and you tend to those as well, washing and appying antibiotic cream and and sterile bandages, giving them a kiss as well.

"What a night, huh?" he says, his smile showing signs of tiredness.

"Yeah.. how do you feel?"

"Honestly.. you know that feeling when you're going to puke, and you don't want to because it's gross, but when you finally do puke you just feel better?"

You chuckle at that. "Yeah."

"I feel exactly like that."

A sigh leaves your lips as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "I'm sorry you had to go through all that, Dave.."

"It was worth it all, if it let me be with you."

You share a soft kiss, pressing your foreheads together as you enjoy this little moment of solitude.

"I don't want any more drama or surprises," you tell him. "I've had enough twists and turns to last a good while."

And just as the words leave your lips, there's a commotion at the front desk just outside. You and Dave exchange a look before heading out there.

"I know he's here, Tim! One of his goons finally talked. He's here, and not even you knew that!"

You recognize the voice before you see the blond woman screeching at Tim in the motel lobby.

Connie Murphy, the wife of you ex-husband's business partner, Steve.

"Hey.. Connie?" You approach her from behind Tim. "What are you doing here? Is Steve okay?"

You could care less about him, the way he always treated you as if you were invisible, only referring to Javier when you three were in the same room.

Her eyes land on you, the look in them softens. You hadn't been especially close with her while married to Javi, but she'd been kind enough to send a gift and give comforting words after your divorce.

"It's Steve. He's holing up here. I paid this so-called private investigator and he never tracked him to this spot." She shoots Tim a deadly glare.

"I'm sorry, Connie," you tell her. Of course Javier and Steve would be best friends, business partners, and adulterers. Birds of a feather really do stick together.

"I'm not working now, Mrs. Murphy," Tim calmly explains. "Do you know what room he's in?" He turns to the night manager. "Can you tell us?"

It's against the law, he says, but his tune changes when Dave slips him a fifty dollar bill.

"Murphy and his companion are in room 206, upstairs," he says, palming the bill and stuffing it in his pocket.

"Who is it?" you ask, following her up the stairs, Tim and Dave following right after.

"It's not who he's with that I'm concerned about, it's the fact that he's been embezzling money from the club," she says, her face taking on a hardened look. "Some of the money that comes in from some of the.. financiers" she sneaks a glance at Tim, "has gone missing, and Steve right along with it. I'm gonna track him down and turn him in." She had a cold gleam in her eye and you believe that she really will turn the tables on her no-good husband.

Room 206 is quiet, not much going on inside. The glow from the TV is visible through a crack in the curtains.

Connie breaks the silence, pounding on the door. "Open up, Steve! I know you're in there!"

She only quits pounding when Steve answers, shirtless and obviously shocked to see a crowd at his door. "Connie, what the hell?" He closes the door behind him, stepping out onto the balcony.

"What do you mean what am I doing here, what are you doing here??" she pushes him against the wall as Tim intervenes, keeping her away from doing more harm.

"Steve, babe, what the fuck's going on out there?" The door opens and Javier steps out, his hair mussed, wearing only his briefs. His neck and chest are covered in love bites. His hand snakes around to Steve's middle in a protective lover's clasp right before he sees the crowd gathered right outside his door. He takes his hand away but you've already seen it.

Javi and Steve. Lovers.

"Of course you're with him," Connie sneers. "When are you ever not together? I'll have you know the feds are on the way. Did you really think you could hide forever?"

She turns to you, a look of victory on her face. "I knew it. I should have told you before, but I had no proof, and after you left him I figured you wouldn't care anyway."

Stunned as you try to processs this new information, your gaze flits between Javi and Steve. They were always together. Steve always seemed jealous of you, protecting whatever secrets Javier possessed, encouraging his infidelities. Because he was too afraid to lose him.

"Javi, what the fuck?" you whisper. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

He rubs the back of his neck. "Jesus, sweetheart, I didn't know how. I didn't think you'd understand."

"But.. all those women.."

He shrugs, looking defeated. "I guess I was trying to fool myself into thinking I wasn't actually.. you know."

"Gay," Dave says, also invested in the play-by-play of this circumstance.

"Well, yeah," Javi nods. "Wait.. what the fuck are you doing here?"

Sirens howl in the distance. You crane your neck to see lights of blue and red traveling quickly up the road to where you are.

"Did you really do all those things?" you ask him. "I don't care that you're with Steve, that's the last thing I'm worried about. Did you really take the money?"

He gives you a long look, finally sighing, knowing his time was up. "Do me one favor, okay? Don't tell Cindy. She should hear it from me."

Shaking your head, you wish him luck as Dave takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the car.

"Take care of her!" Javier shouts down to Dave. It's the last of him that you'll ever have to hear as both of you leave the past behind and walk into a future you can build together.

A/n: The bomb has dropped. I read somewhere about a woman whose husband was constantly sleeping with other women, and as it turned out he was gay 🤷🏽‍♀️I thought it'd be an interesting twist (not that it excuses any of it) but it also looks like Javi's gonna have his day in court for his crimes 😎 And Joel being an asshole was kind of a given. I wanted him as a foil, and Carol doesn't deserve a happy ending IMO. Thank all of you for your continued support ❤️

dividers by @strangergraphics and @adornedwithlight 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @mrs-pedro-pascal @sunnytuliptime

@mysticsuitcasealmondwombat @joelmillerisapunk @almostfoxglove

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @604to647 @milla-frenchy

@everybodylovedcontractors @misstokyo7love @ppascalq

(if anyone wishes to be removed from the taglist, please let me know. the only one who hurts my feelings is myself -- and my seven year old)

[chronicbeans]

Wally and a Puppeteer Reader

I was just kinda thinking to myself... What would happen if he somehow got into contact with one of the puppeteers working on the show? Idk I just like to write what I find interesting. Lol.

TW: Obsessive Behaviors, Mentions of Stalking, Idol Worshipping

🍎 The first time Wally realized what is going on, he's going to panic. Yes, Wally has been aware of the fact that he is a puppet, but he never really understood what that meant. He has always just seen it as a name for what species he is. Kind of like how humans are called humans and that caterpillars are called caterpillars. Just a word that had no implications on his free will.

🍎 However, when he sees the outside of his world... the bright lights setting the stage, the crowd of people all running around and setting things up, he is terrified. These... creatures... look so similar to his neighbor that he has seen every now and again. The only difference is that they are usually smaller and, compared to some of these versions he now sees, have no fluff on their face.

🍎 Then, he sees YOU. He recognizes you. He's seen you in the background, behind one of the smaller creatures he calls his neighbor. You sometimes even come by to check on them. What are you doing here? He doesn't know, but you are an immediate comfort amongst the strange, unfamiliar faces... Even if he doesn't know you.

🍎 Next thing he knows, you are picking him up in your warm arms and carrying him somewhere. He watches as his neighborhood slips away from him, the horrifying realization that his world is just a small little stage in it of itself. His neighbors all being taken by their own strange creatures to their own little areas.

🍎 On your way to wherever you are taking him, someone happens to pop in. Complimenting you on your love for the little puppet in your arms, the excellent care you give him when handling him, and telling you that you are surprisingly good at puppeteering for a newbie on the set. You're going to make an amazing replacement for the last guy.

🍎 Wally cannot believe his ears. What's a puppeteer? This is the first time he's heard of that word. It isn't until the odd fellow asks you to make Wally say his iconic line that he realizes what is happening. You suddenly maneuver him, making a poor impression of his voice as you force him to say "You think I'm the absolute most? You're the most to me, neighbor!"

🍎 Yes... the situation is all coming together in his mind. You must be the one behind everything! All that he does and all that he says is in your hands. All that his friends do and say should be in your hands too, right? It would make sense... If you can control him, then you can control the others!

🍎 Soon enough, you've brought Wally to a room with a little tote box near the corner. You begin checking him over, looking for rips or tears, before wrapping him in a plastic bag. Then, you place him in the box, making sure he isn't squished at all.

🍎 Left alone with his thoughts, Wally thinks about everything that has happened. This all feels too real to be a dream, as much as he sort of wishes it was. In fact, it feels more real than his life before this. He must do something, anything, but he doesn't know why. He just has to do something other than sitting in this bag inside a tote.

🍎 So, after a few hours of trying to move, he finally succeeds. He's gotten himself out of the plastic bag... Then, after a few more minutes, he hears someone return to the room. Lying limp, he watches as you open the box. Your eyes grow wide as you look down at him. You turn your head to look around the room, before crying out "Hey... Dave... Did you mess with Wally?" "Nah, (Y/N)! Why? Is something wrong?" With that, you leave to go talk to this... "Dave".

🍎 Of course, he follows. Very slowly, since he isn't used to walking in this... odd way. His legs feel weak. Like they are filled with stuffing. It is a strange feeling. He is also so incredibly cold. Why is he cold, yet, you are so warm?

🍎 He find you talking to another one of your kind. You and the other strange creatures that make up your species seem so frightened by him moving. Why is it okay for you to make him move, but not for him to move on his own? Why are they assuming someone tampered with him?

🍎 You seem most worried. How... introguing. You seem so kind compared to the rest of these odd creatures! So benevolent in your worries. The others talk about him like some sort of object, but you seem to genuinely have an attachment to him!

🍎 He wants to learn more about your kind - no... YOU in specific. He could care less about the others. You are all that really matters at the moment. If he is wrong about his assumption that you control all in his world, be it that others of your kind control his friends or whatnot, he will deal with that. For now, he can watch from a distance. When you all go, he'll be sure to learn the layout of this new land he is in. When he does, he can find you wherever you are in here. He can find out what you love and hate, what makes you tick, what makes you sad.

🍎 That sounds like a wonderful thought to him... maybe, if he leaves little gifts for you, you'll be sure to make everyday of his good. Happy parties with all of his friends, no bumps or bruises on himself or his friends, no rainy days that makes Home sad and cold... If it takes giving gifts, he'll gladly do so! You are so warm and benevolent, he would do so even if it never became fruitful for making his world perfect.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Eisenhower don't give a fuck

Barbie dolls: Dave Lizewski x gn! Also superhero! Reader

Word:3.1k

Summary: you're also a hero and find out Dave (your boyfriend) is kickass and flirt with him to see his reaction

Warnings: you have daddy issues now, you don't like orange popsicles, based on the second movie so if you haven't watched that it's probably not going to make sense, I'm not suggesting you should watch it bc I hate the romance plot in it but you do you, also insinuated that you're apart of the lgbtq+ and or an extremely passionate ally, feeling unloyal even though you aren't cheating, lots of sex jokes and mentions, you think you're weird and annoying, Marty and you are mean to each other in the friend way yk

Request: seriously stop going through my stuff

Dating Dave was actually quite enjoyable. You could geek over comics together. You sat with his friends during lunch. You scribbled in his notes before returning them, little hearts around the corners. You shared almost everything with each other. The key word there: almost.

Was being a real-life superhero easy? Fuck no. But it gave you that adrenaline rush you got from flirting with Dave so how bad could it be? Not to mention you got to prance around town in your very extremely awesome outfit. You liked it, a lot. You liked people following you on your socials. You liked seeing yourself on the news. You liked helping people and seeing the relief on their faces. You like hanging out with Kickass and all the others in Justice Forever.

Remembering Tommy were a bit of a drag all things considered, but you loved sitting down and hearing about all their life experiences. In fact, a couple of their nuggets of advice actually made you change your day-to-day.

You loved talking and working with Doctor Gravity. He made you laugh and was amazing at his side gig. He’s probably saved your life a thousand times already.

You quite enjoyed talking to Insect Man. In your free time together, you felt like you were able to shed your walls and talk to him about anything. In fact, you went with him to the pride parade in town and helped him organize a local protest.

You were often paired up with Night Bitch because according to Colonel stars and stripes: you had complimentary personalities. You liked being paired up with her because you actually grew to be friends.

Battle Guy had his funny moments. You two seemed to get along but he appeared to be quite attached to Kick-Ass. Which you didn’t mind because you had your own attachments.

To be quite frank, you had already mentally adopted Colonel Stars and Stripes as your father figure. You weren’t sure if he was aware of that. You did however know he called you peanut so maybe he did know.

Sometimes when you asked for advice from him, it sounded like something Juno would hear from her father. It sounded like a dinner, shared over the wooden dining room table, that you helped make even though you couldn’t reach the kitchen counter. It sounded like a movie with ice cream while you were decked out in his band t-shirt even though it was for an adult and you were nothing of the sort.

Every time he told you you did a good job after a night of moderate crime fighting, you felt like he just hung up your stick figures on the fridge. Though you doubted he thought of it that way. It wouldn’t be the first time a random male authority figure became your only source of validation.

Though on the Kick-Ass note, he was strange. You’d mutter an inside joke to yourself, and hear a snort come from Kick-Ass. You just assumed he was quite perceptive. When you two were left alone, there was this strange tension floating between you two. It felt like deja vu. It felt like when you visit an art museum, see a familiar face, can’t place it, and then find it in the mirror the next morning. You just hadn’t gotten to the next morning yet. He made you feel weird. You felt like you should run away from him and hide behind Dave.

You felt unloyal just knowing there was weird tension between you and Kick-Ass. Even though you apparently got along quite well. You laughed at the same jokes, even the same words in some cases. You liked the same movies and comic books. You even thought he was just as funny as Dave. Which you hated because Dave was very important to you.

Every time you laughed at Kick-Ass’ jokes you felt your heart squeeze at the thought of Dave sitting at home thinking of you. After every laugh, you both sighed heavily like you could feel the weight of something returning to your shoulders. You assumed he was thinking of his homework or some shit. It wasn’t your business but you were positive it wasn’t hypothetical infidelity.

You avoided pairing up with Kick-Ass. You didn’t even stand next to him. You didn’t want his vibes getting onto your skin. Alas, Colonel Stars and Stripes didn’t pick up on your subtlety, pairing you two together again.

Though this time was different. You two had just been wandering around, waiting for some crime to catch up with you. You mentioned your favorite movie of all time and Kick-Ass dropped possibly the best thing you had ever heard.

“Oh my god, my partner fucking loves that movie.” Ah, see most people don’t normally enjoy learning someone has a partner, you, on the other hand, loved this new piece of information. You stopped walking. Kick-ass turned back around to probably raise an eyebrow, you can’t see.

“You have a partner?” You asked, already feeling your lips peel into a grin. Kick-Ass shrugged.

“Yeah? Is that so unbelievable?” He asked, slapping his hand onto the side of his thigh. You shook your head.

“No, It’s not unbelievable.” You said. You skipped, literally, ahead. You were beaming the rest of the night. You still tried to ignore Kick-Ass during the other meeting though now with the new information you were slightly less abrasive.

One night, alike many other nights, Dave knocked on your door right as you were getting ready for bed. You raised a brow at his appearance. He was missing his glasses, and nacho cheese was smeared over his face, primarily over his eye and mouth area. Though it wasn’t in his hair or on his clothes.

“Dude, you have to stop eating so messy. It is not a good look for you.” You said, pulling the door open further.

“Someone threw nachos at me, which I am quite upset about. I wanted to kiss you once I got over here but now I have to clean my face.” Dave said, shrugging his backpack and jacket off to drop them by the door. You snorted, making the corner of Dave’s mouth tip up. He left for the bathroom. You stood in the doorway and watched him, committing the image to your memory so you could think of Dave while you were on the hunt for misbehavior. Dave glanced at you from the corner of his eye before squeezing them closed again to scrub his face with water. He pulled his head back, blowing water away from his mouth with a huff.

“Could you get my glasses and extra shirt out of my bag?” Dave asked, dipping his head back to the sink. You spun around and headed for his bag. You thought for a moment, which pocket would Dave put his glasses and extra shirt in? Of course the biggest one. You zipped it open. You paused when you were met with a plastic bag covered in red font repeating ‘Thank you’. You furrowed your brows at the sight of green peeking through the white. You pulled on the loose knot, staring down at the very iconic Kick-Ass green covered in nacho cheese. You paused and thought back on it.

Kick-Ass laughed at the inside jokes that you only made with Dave. Kick-Ass had a partner who had the same favorite movie as you. Of course Kick-Ass made you feel some weird tension because he was your fucking boyfriend. You never ever heard Dave talk bad about Kick-Ass. They had the same favorite comics, movies literally everything. You finally reached the next morning.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, glad the sink was still running so Dave couldn’t hear you.

“They should be in the front pocket, baby,” Dave called from the bathroom. You retied the plastic bag and zipped up the big pocket as fast as you could. You brought Dave his glasses and extra shirt and pretended you had no idea the whole night.

However, on the next mission, you volunteered to pair with Kick-Ass. Kick-Ass gave you a questioning look. You shrugged. Eventually, you two were off, once again wandering about. You knew you truly shouldn’t but you wanted to fuck with Dave a little.

“Hey, Kick-Ass? You said you have fucked nerve endings right? You can’t feel when people hit you?” You said, balancing the edge of the sidewalk, your arms stuck out on either side of you. Kick-ass was walking next to you, his hands clasped behind his back.

“No, you can’t slap me,” Kick-Ass responded, taking one step away from you.

“No, I was just wondering if that made it hard for you to have sex. Like does that fuck with those nerve endings?” You said blatantly, keeping your eyes on the sidewalk so you didn’t fall. Kick-ass sputtered, making you grin.

“What? No. I mean, No that’s none of your business.” Kick-Ass said, taking another step away from you. You snorted. You stopped and dropped your hands to your sides.

“You sure? ‘Cause I could help you out with that. There’s a public restroom right around the corner. Or we could just use the alley.” You said, taking a step closer to him. Dave held his hands up in surrender, leaning away from you.

“I have a partner. I am dating someone. They sexually gratify me perfectly. I am seeing someone, who I love deeply. I am severely committed.” Kick-Ass said, squeezing his eyes shut. You snorted and walked away from him, completely ignoring the fact that now your face was hot from him confessing his love.

“I’m just fucking with you Dave, don’t take me seriously. I would never fuck in an alley, that’s like STD grand central station.” You said, balancing on the edge of the sidewalk again.

“Sorry, wait, what’d you call me?” Kick-Ass asked. You kept walking, though now you thought back on your words. You grimaced when you realized you called him by his real name.

“I called you a bitch.” You said. Well done, that was perfect. No notes. Kick-Ass met your pace, walking beside you. He leaned his head to the side, trying to make eye contact with you.

“No, you didn’t. What did you call me?” He asked. You shrugged.

“You called me Dave. Why did you do that?” You stopped and met his eyes. You shrugged.

“I think we actually do need that alley now, come with me.” You split off to the nearest alley, pulling Dave into the shadows. You glanced around to make sure no one was around before yanking your mask off.

“It’s me, Dave.” Kick-Ass gasped, taking a step away from you. He spun around, his hands on his head.

“Oh my god, I’ve slept with a real-life superhero.” He muttered. He pulled his mask off, dragging his hands through his hair.

”To be fair I also had this reaction when I found out about you.” You said, shoving your mask into your belt. Dave spun back around to you, gripping your face with both his hands.

“God, you gorgeous pain in the ass. I love you so much.” He pulled you closer to him, resting his lips against yours. You reached out and tugged him closer by the green fabric pulled over his stomach. Dave groaned into your lips, slipping his hands under your arms to hold onto your back. He pulled back just enough to whisper to you.

“Stars and Stripes is going to kill us,” Dave said. You nodded against him, pushing your lips back against his.

“Stop thinking about him, think about how we’re totally going to fuck in these costumes.” You muttered. Dave’s hand found the back of your head, holding you still while he slipped his tongue past your lips.

By the time everyone did meet back at the base, you and Kick-ass were stuck together like glue. Colonel dismissed everyone, but Kick-ass’ hand shot out for Battle Guys’ arm.

“Hey Coronal, we have bad news.” You said. Colonel turned around looking between you three.

“You haven’t started selling drugs have you?” You shook your head.

“We all know each other, in real life,” Kick-Ass said. Battle Guy jerked his arm out of Kick-Ass’ hand.

“No, the fuck we don’t. I know you,” Battle Guy pointed at Kick-Ass. “Don’t know who that is.” Battle Guy pointed at you. You made a mental note to add a middle finger to Marty’s birthday card. Colonel grimaced at Battle Guy.

“Language.” Colonel pinched his brow as he looked between the three of you. “How long have you known this?”

“I’ve known since yesterday, Kick-Ass found out today. Battle Guy is apparently still behind.” You said. Colonel sighed.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, making Colonel raise an eyebrow.

“Why would I hate you?” You shrugged, feeling everyone’s eyes turn to you.

“I don’t know. I was just checking because-“

“Oh my god.” You heard Battle Guy say. You glanced over at him to see him wandering away from the line you three had formed.

“What!” You responded, following him with your eyes. He dragged his hands over his head.

“I just figured out who you are.” He said, dropping his hands to his sides. ”I recognized you from your daddy issues.” You scoffed at Marty.

“You recognized me from my daddy issues? You know what-“ You said, your voice raising. You pointed your finger at Battle Guy. Kick-ass’ hands shot out, pressing either one to you and Marty’s chest.

“Okay, okay. No fighting, there’s no point.” You sighed, dropping it. You faced Colonel again. He hummed.

“Do you know what we call this?” Colonel said, waving his hands around at you three. You shrugged, glancing at Dave to see if he knew.

“No?” Kick-ass muttered.

“Loserville party of one?” Battle Guy asked. You huffed, looking around Dave to glare at Marty. Kick-ass reached out and lightly pushed your head back.

“Not my problem. C’mon Eisenhower. Let’s allow these doofuses to solve this on their own.” Colonel replied, tugging on Eisenhower’s leash. She quickly pranced after him. You waited until you heard the door slam shut before tugging your mask off. You turned to Marty, sticking your finger in his face again.

“Fuck you, Marty. I’m setting your birthday present on fire.” You said, huffing and turning away from Marty.

“Yeah, that wasn’t necessary. We talked about how we don’t bring up parental issues anymore, Marty. There was an entire family meeting about it.” Dave said, pulling off his own mask. Marty huffed and yanked his off.

“I didn’t listen during that meeting and you know it,” Marty responded.

“Still.”

“Whatever Marty, just don’t talk about it again.” You said, pulling your mask back over your head and leaving the building.

Marty did apologize the next evening at Dave’s house. You, Marty, Todd, and Dave went over to Dave’s house every day to hang out because the time at school you had together just wasn’t enough.

You and Marty were sat outside, eating the popsicles you stole from the freezer. Dave’s dad banned everyone from eating them inside because once Marty dropped one on the couch. It's been forever sticky. So there you two were, sitting on the steps of the back porch in the dark. The dull and faded light from the living room stretched out through the glass sliding door.

“I actually am sorry, about the other night. I know sometimes I am a dick. I don’t know why I’m like that. I just am.” Marty said, taking another bit of his orange popsicle. You hummed.

“I’m the same way. Sometimes I’m just weird and annoying, I don’t know why. Just am.” You said, chomping into the blue popsicle you were holding. Marty hummed, licking down the side of his hand at the streak of melted juice. A quiet moment went by where you stared up at the dark sky and ignored the very loud sound of Marty slurping.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re annoying,” Marty said, biting into his popsicle again. You paused on your popsicle, looking over at him.

“Really?” Marty nodded, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“I mean weird, for sure-“ You shoved Marty’s shoulder.

“Oh fuck off.” You laughed, shaking your head at him. Marty snorted. You continued with your popsicle, though now your lips were tilted up.

“Also when I said Loserville party of one, I was talking about you,” Marty added, taking another bite out of his popsicle. You rolled your eyes.

“I know!”

“Just checking, 'cause you never laughed,” Marty said, tilting his head back to catch the runaway bit of popsicle.

“Yeah, it wasn’t funny.” You both sat in silence as you paused in eating your popsicle to watch Marty and his messy eating. He pulled back and glanced at you.

“So do you actually think of Colonel Stars and Stripes as your dad?” He asked, chomping again. You scoffed. You shoved his shoulder again, making him rock to the side. You finished your popsicle, licking the wooden stick. Marty was maybe two bites from finishing his. The glass door slid open. You turned back. Dave smiled at you.

“You guys coming in soon? We’re about to set up our next board game.” Dave said. Marty turned back, nodding at Dave.

“Yeah, baby.” Dave hummed and took the four steps from the door to you. He leaned down and lightly pecked your lips. He pulled back, his tongue darting it between his lips.

“Blue?” You nodded. He hummed and left, sliding the glass door behind him. Marty waited a moment, watching Dave retreat to the coffee table through the glass. You watched too although for different reasons.

“How long is Dave?” Marty asked. You gasped, smacking the last bite of popsicle out of Marty’s hand. It flipped in the air and leaned in the grass with an unsatisfying ‘thush’.

“Hey! What was that for?” Marty said, sadly looking down at the orange popsicle bite now covered in green grass.

“Potty mouth.” You said, standing up. You picked your popsicle stick off the step. Marty stood up after you, joining you at your side.

“It was ass anyway,” Marty muttered. You nodded, dragging open the glass door.

“You picked orange, I’m not sure what you were expecting.” You said, throwing your stick into the garbage. You and Marty joined Dave and Todd at the coffee table to start the game. You greeted Dave with a kiss and settled onto the floor next to him. Marty sat across from you and wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“I’m not answering your sick question dude!” You responded. Dave worriedly hummed.

“What’d he ask you?” Dave asked. You shook your head and patted his cheek.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

[kaunis-sielu]

Best Worst Blind Date Ever

You really read this one wrong. He’d seemed so kind, so charming when you’d been texting but now, now he’s terrible.

Dave hasn’t let you talk, he’d tried to order for you, then he had ordered you a new drink at the bar without asking. He’d been annoyed when you hadn’t touched it, but you also hadn’t asked for it.

“So, you always this quiet?” He asks over another bite of food.

“Um, no.” You say, “I’m going to run to the bathroom, excuse me.” You tell him putting your napkin on the table and standing. You’ll hopefully be able to catch your waitress on your way and ask her for some help. You’ve got a bad feeling that telling this asshole that you’re not interested isn’t going to go well.

You spot her standing near the bar and murmur,

“I might need some help leaving.”

“I was going to ask.” She says, “if you do, put your water glass on the left side of your plate.”

“Thank you.” Knowing that you have a plan is a huge relief. You go to the bathroom and when you come out Dave is looking annoyed.

“What did you say to the waitress?”

“Just told her we’d probably be ready for the checks soon.”

“Check. I’m paying here.”

“Here?” You’re confused, it’s already 9:30 and you’re really not interested in prolonging this date.

“Yea, we’re going to my favorite bar for a couple drinks then we can go back to my place.”

“Oh, um, no thank you. I have plans in the morning so I need to get going.” His face hardens and you pick up your water glass then take a sip and place it on the left side of your plate.

“Wow. You’re such a tease.” He sneers and you go into your purse. You take out a tube of chapstick and swipe some on trying to keep your cool.

“Hey Sweetheart. I hope it’s okay that Wanda told me you were here.” A deep voice says from behind you. When you glance up at him you’re stunned by the man standing behind you.

“Who the fuck are you?” Your oh so charming date snaps,

“I’m Steve, her ex. Hopefully not for much longer. Can we talk?” The god of a man lies smoothly.

“Yea.” You manage to say and before you can move your date grabs your arm.

“What the hell. Our date isn’t over.”

“No, it’s over.” You tell him trying to pull your arm from his grasp.

“You’re going to want to let her go.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because this is assault.” Steve says flashing a badge that sits on his hip.

“Fuck.” Your arm is dropped like you’re on fire and you stand, dropping some money on the table for your meal.

“Don’t call me again.” You tell Dave stalking away with Steve at your back.

“Why don’t you sit with me for a while. Did you drive yourself here?” He offers and you meet Wanda’s eyes. She gives you a wide smile and a little nod.

“I took a ride share. I didn’t want him knowing what car I drive or where I live.”

“Smart.” He says gesturing to two empty stools and you slide onto the seat. “I never did get your name Sweetheart.” He says with a smile, you tell him and he nods.

“Thank you for the rescue.”

“Part of the job description.” He says with a wide grin, “but it doesn’t hurt when my sister calls for back up. She’s usually one that will take on anyone, so when she asked for help I knew something was off.”

“I’m glad she did, he seemed so nice on the app.”

“I’m sorry he turned out to be an ass.”

“I don’t think I am.” You tell him looking up at him through your lashes and you see him grinning down at you.

“No?”

“Nah.” You shift your body closer to his and he moves closer to you, one of his legs on either side of yours. It’s a far too intimate position to be in with a man you just met but with your former date stewing in the corner of the bar you can’t risk him knowing it was all a lie.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

“Sweetheart, your whole body just tensed up.”

“He’s still here. In the corner and looks furious.”

“He moves this way you let me know.” Steve tells you and you nod, “I’ve got you Honey.”

“Thank you.” You tell him leaning closer, “So, you’re a cop?”

“A Captain now.”

“Wow, congratulations.” He seems young for a Captain at least from your experience in cop shows.

“We had a huge overhaul and things got kind of, messy.” He says, “I was the last Sargent standing.”

“That sounds so stressful. I’m sorry.” You tell him and he rests a hand on your knee,

“This okay?” Since Dave is still watching you give Steve a smile,

“Yea.” And surprisingly it is okay having his big, warm hand on your knee.

You almost forget that you’re being watched. Steve is so sweet, so easy to talk to and honestly so fucking hot.

“Slut.” Is hissed at you as Dave walks past, well, stumbles past you. You ignore him and he does it again, “you’re a fucking slut.”

“Ignore him Sweetheart.” Steve murmurs and you hold tightly the edge of the bar, “let him bury himself.” He says into your ear and your heart pounds. God he’s got you all twisted up in the very best way. Steve stands suddenly and steps in the sight line of Dave, blocking you from his view. You look up at Steve with wide eyes and he smiles down at you.

“I’m gonna kiss you Sweetheart.”

“Yes.” You whisper and Steve’s mouth descends on yours. His fingers gently brush your cheek before delving into your hair to better angle your head to deepen the kiss.

When he pulls away Steve grins down at you, you blink up at him before a smile crosses your face.

“So, not an ex anymore?” He teases and you laugh softly,

“I don’t think so.” You tell him and he grins, “why did we break up in the first place?”

“I worked too much.” He says, “but I promise I’ll do better if you promise to communicate your needs.”

“Okay.” You see him look back toward the door the pull out his phone. He puts the phone to his ear,

“Buck. 10-51, leaving Post now, south on Main, red Dodge Charger, not sure on the plate.” He shoves his phone back into his pocket and smiles at you, “sorry about that.”

“What’s a 10-51?”

“Drunk driver. Bucky is my second in command and will let dispatch know so that you and I can enjoy our evening.”

“Wanna get out of here?” You ask and he grins, “I’m in the mood for ice cream.”

“That’s a great idea.” He agrees and you slip off the stool you’ve been sitting on, Steve gently guides you in front of him and you lead him out of Post. Once you’re on the street you reach over and take his hand, he turns you gently then kisses you again.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked.” He says after pulling away from you but you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay. I, kissing you is nice.” He hums softly,

“I’m glad, because I agree completely.” Steve gives your hand a squeeze, “now, I believe I owe you some ice cream.”

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @annielr @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @patzammit @abschaffer2 @capsiclesdoll @killcomet @sass-masterkittenmama

[ms--lobotomy]

5th fic in 4 (?) days? I'm so normal. I'm so normal. I'm so normal. Aaah [Previous] [Next]

Summary: Your first day of work after you start feeling a funny way about the funny merman.

Word Count: 1257

Content Warnings: car dependent infrastructure, Typhus existing again, cliffhanger

Image Credit: @squishyowl

Your fingers drummed on the steering wheel as your playlist looped back around to that song. You couldn't close your eyes, not now, but your heart beat faster in your chest as you remembered how he held you, the beat of his hearts against your face. It's just fascination, you told yourself. You haven't even known each other for a week.

You pulled into the employees' parking lot before you found a spot, cut Dave Grohl off mid-word, and got out of the car.

"Sorry, Dave," you mumbled as you locked it.

You speedwalked towards the door, going through all the familiar motions of clocking in. You looked at the time. Two minutes late. You sighed as you checked in with the baby turtle. It was a green sea turtle, but the babies were more black or dark brown than anything. You bent down to look at it. The tank was very small, but the little one didn't seem to mind it. After a few moments of swimming, it settled on the bottom. The corners of your lips quirked up before you heard footsteps behind you.

You turned around. It was Typhus.

"Hey," he said casually. "Oh, you found the Nurgling?"

"The what?"

Typhus chuckled. He came in close to you, and you backed away slightly. "I call him the Nurgling," he said, looking down at the tiny sea turtle. "I don't know if it's going to be his name, it's a bit of an in-joke I have with someone. Haven't given him a nametag yet, either. First thing I'm going to do today. How's the merman?"

"Oh," you said, slightly taken aback before remembering that he was there too. "He's doing... better than expected. I showed him some of my music, and he seemed to like it. I hope, at least?"

"Alright, okay," said Typhus, nodding slightly. "Didn't know that one of the first things you'd do when you found a merman was to show him dad rock. But to each their own."

"Why, what would you do?"

"I'd show him Slipknot, personally," he shrugged.

You let out a slight laugh, turning to walk away before he continued.

"I think someone should check up on him," he said. He was much taller than average, reaching almost 7 feet standing. "Don't you think?" He moved a little closer to you, and you backed away, but you were getting precariously close to the wall. Shit.

"I mean, I would like to get to know Stella better," you mumbled. You tried to walk away, but he shifted in front of you.

"Aren't they so busy, though?" he asked, turning up his nose a little bit. "I don't have anything going tonight, and I'd hate to get in the way of anyone's activities. Besides," he said, "all of us found the merman. It's all of our duty to look after him, right?" His leg was almost between yours, and you shrunk back even further.

"Excuse me, what the actual fuck are you doing?" asked the girl with the brown ponytail.

"Maya, it's not what it looks like--" said Typhus, backing away.

Maya was around 5 feet tall at most, but she looked at Typhus with nothing less than fury in her hazel eyes. "Back off, Typhus. Now." Her hands were clenched into fists, with only the chipped nail polish on her thumb showing, but her tone was more akin to scolding a disobedient dog.

Typhus looked at her, then at you before backing away slowly. "Guess we should get back to work," he muttered before turning tail and heading towards one of the animals in need of rehabilitation.

"I'll say," said Maya, glaring at him before she turned back to you. "I know you don't want to hear this, but you're going to have to stand up for yourself one of these days," she said, in a tone low enough that Typhus couldn't hear. "I know we're coworkers, but I care about you. And I hate to see this... asshole get in your face when you clearly don't want it."

You paused, shuffling your feet before steeling yourself. "I'll do my best," you mumbled.

"You said that last time," said Maya, raising an eyebrow.

"Alright," you sighed. "Alright, I'll try for real this time."

"Thank you," she replied, moving off to her next post. You stood there for a moment, hands over your stomach. You grabbed your index and middle finger with your dominant hand before heading off to your post and starting the workday for real.

...

The workday ended in due time, slow and steady. Most of it was spent in the breakroom when not checking in on the animals and feeding them. Typhus was gone from the picture for much of it, gods know where. You said your goodbyes to the group before getting back into your car, and your playlist was back where you'd left it. You sighed, putting your head on the steering wheel.

Alright, you reasoned with yourself, you need to go home. You have a merman to attend to.

The song finished, and you showed up at your house soon enough. You didn't even enter through your front door, instead beelining to the back. Mortarion looked up at you, his tail swishing in the water, before he swam to the side of the pool.

"How was... work?" he asked. "Do pardon me, I am still learning your species' nomenclature."

"Work is the right word," you said, kneeling next to him. "I do hope you didn't get too lonely, Mortarion.."

"I endure," he said, looking up at you. You took off your socks and shoes and left them by the side of the pool before you looked down at your pants.

"Is something wrong with your pants?" Mortarion asked.

"I..." you started. "So, humans wear pants underneath their pants. Most of the time, at least? And it's a bit uncouth in our culture to show them. Uh..." you started, blushing. "Man. I'm too tired to go upstairs and change. Is it okay if I show you the... garments under my pants?"

"I don't see anything wrong with it," Mortarion shrugged before you tugged off your pants. You took your phone and keys out of your pocket, and put them on the glass table by your pool before dipping your legs into the pool again. Mortarion looked away, before he looked back up at your face.

"You're beautiful," he said, before tensing up. You heard a car pull into your driveway, and you tensed up too.

"I'm not expecting anyone," you said, getting up quickly. "Please. Hide?" you asked.

"You don't exactly had a huge pool," he grumbled, submerging himself.

You entered through the back door, and looked out front. The car was... familiar, though you couldn't put your finger on where it was from. Hurriedly, you looked for something to put around your waist before you found a blanket on your couch and draped it over you as quick as you could. And then you saw the person coming out of the car.

It was Typhus.

Part of you was relieved that it wasn't a fed or anything, but it was Typhus. You rushed back towards Mortarion, towards your backyard, as he made his way through the gate. He shut the wooden thing with a quiet thud, as his eyes darted to you. You shifted the blanket over your legs, glad that it was covering quite a bit.

"I..." you started, your fists balling up. You looked to your feet. "I didn't invite you here."

Taglist: @bispecsual@justeverythingnothingelse@bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae@historitor-bookshelf

[ww2yaoi]

words wip game

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

I was tagged by both @sidleckie and @goodluckbabeheffron to do this :3 thanks guys love u guys. my words are LIARS and MOVIE

(under the cut because it's too long lmao)

*~*~* word one *~*~*

L - Leckie rises from his bunk and grabs the Rupert Brooke off the table. He hands it to Eugene. The book immediately feels good in his grasp, small and solid and comfortingly worn like all old books are. It reminds Eugene of his New Testament, the suggestion of which grounds him in more peaceful times, his head bowed in church, singing hymns with his feet planted on the floor and the pew hard beneath him.

I - “I do want children,” Sid continues. “Hell, what was all of this for if not—”

He cuts himself off with a sigh. It feels too cruel to admit right now. Eugene sits back on his heels and releases a fistful of dirt-matted roots into the grass. He looks pallid in the dark. Frankly, he hasn’t seemed well all evening.

A - A few days later, they’re down at the lake, soaking up the last of the afternoon sun. Joe lounges on the pebbly shore with an arm draped behind his head, smoking because he’s always smoking, while David sits cross-legged beside him, penning a letter to his brother stationed in France.

R - “Rupert Brooke,” Eugene says. “1914 & Other Poems. Any good?”

Leckie looks at him, glass poised below his upper lip. It warps his smirk. He clears his throat.

“If I should die, think only this of me,” he recites, jokingly at first. “That there’s some corner of a foreign field / That is for ever England. There shall be.”

Eugene watches him with fascination. Leckie’s face sobers as the last few words leave his mouth, like the sincerity of the verse is overtaking his initial bemusement. His voice is so steady and low Eugene can feel it in his belly. Eugene brushes his thumb over the book’s spine, thinking he’s pleased Leckie with his selection, but he’s only able to enjoy the feeling for a moment.

“A little Victorian for my tastes,” Leckie adds unceremoniously. “Too sentimental. The early war crap always is.”

He swirls the remaining finger of hooch around in his glass, jaw set, then takes a swig.

“Oh,” Eugene says, deflating.

S - “She wants to be a writer.”

“Does she?”

“Like Virginia Woolf, she said.”

Joe makes a psh sound through pursed lips. “Where the hell did she get that from?”

“Where do you think?” Mary says with a cocked eyebrow, pointing her cigarette towards Web. “She’s nine years old, Joe.”

Joe smirks. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell Dave to recommend some writers that aren’t feminist lesbians who drowned themselves.”

“Joe,” Mary warns. “Don’t be crude.”

Joe just shrugs. He’s almost done with his cigarette, ready to flick the butt onto the ground and go back inside, but Mary appears solemn as she watches the kids at the other end of the backyard. She rubs a hand over her face. Her eyes are tired, cloudy.

*~*~* word two *~*~*

M - “My sister is pregnant.”

“Which one?”

“Mary.”

“Again?” Web looks at Joe with widened eyes. “Someone pull Jim off of her, for the love of God, or at least teach him how to use a fucking rubber for Christ’s sake.”

Joe laughs, but he sobers again as he says, “She wasn’t all too happy about it when she told me.”

“No?”

“I said if she wanted I would help her get an abortion.”

Web’s eyes widen even more at that. “Joe, you did not. What did she say?”

“Told me to fuck off, though not in those words.”

O - Outside, the sky is still somewhat light, one of the many perks of summertime in Austria. The muted glow pours through the open window, painting everything in an amber haze. David smells grass and warm pavement like a solstitial perfume.

“Go find Doc Roe,” David suggests, leaning back in his desk chair and plucking the cigarette from his mouth. “I’m sure he can give you something for it.”

Joe sighs dramatically, sitting on the edge of his bed and rubbing at the back of his neck. He’s still in his PT gear, his hair rumpled and wavy in the way it gets after being soaked with lake water for several hours.

“Don’t touch it,” David warns. “You’re gonna make it worse.”

V - Voicing any of this out loud, however, has always seemed out of the question. David doesn’t know what promises he can make right now, if Joe will even take him up on any. He doesn’t want to entertain the possible rejection, rejection he’s feeling in flashes right now.

“I don’t know,” is all David can think to say.

Something like hurt passes over Joe’s face. He presses his lips into a thin line then shakes his head. “See, you don’t know what you’re askin’.”

Joe gets to his feet, crossing the room to snatch up a discarded pair of ODs that have been draped over the footboard of his bed. David watches as he pulls them on then stuffs his feet in his jump boots and stoops down to tie the laces.

David sighs. “Joe, c’mon. Don’t do this.”

I - “I don’t know,” Eugene says with a shake of his head. “If it was all an awful waste? If we’re no better off?”

“Eugene,” Sid warns, an uneasy feeling sinking like a stone to the bottom of his gut.

“Well, do you?” Eugene asks, stubborn as always.

Sid just looks at him, his unease blooming into something more like anger. For once, he’d just like to get through a dinner party or a dance or a Sunday morning church service without Eugene bringing up the war.

“It’s no use asking these kinds of questions,” Sid says evenly. “You’ll never get your answer.”

Eugene says nothing, his eyes deadening.

E - Eugene scratches down his signature in dull graphite, straightens, then hands the pencil back to Leckie.

“War knows no power,” he quotes, taking it from him, meeting Eugene’s eyes. “Safe shall be my going.”

It sounds more like prayer than poetry. Eugene’s chest stirs, and he’s suddenly aware of how little space there is between them.

“For something you don’t like, you sure as hell have a lot of it memorized,” Eugene says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Leckie huffs out a breathy laugh. “Well, I used to like it. Not so much anymore.” He claps the notebook closed and Eugene nearly jumps. “You’ve got a week with it. If we’re still here in a week, that is.”

Leckie’s delivery is so deadpan Eugene can’t tell whether or not the joke is at his expense. He smiles anyway.

*~*~*~*~*~*

in conclusion:

[marta-diablo]

‘Noel and Julian were possibly aroused’: The Mighty Boosh turns 20 – in pictures

 ‘Something magic happens when they get together’

While filming the surreal comedy, Dave Brown AKA Bollo was on hand with a camera to snap awkward kisses, creepy venues … and crack foxes ordering pie and mash

Tony & Dennis (Series 3 – The Strange Tale of the Crack Fox, 2007)

Dave Brown: ‘Lunchtime on set was a feast for the eyes. It was always a treat seeing cast members milling about munching on a jacket potato with ridiculous full face of makeup, asking for more cheese on their beans. Here, Noel Fielding (Tony Harrison) and Julian Barratt (Dennis the Head Shaman) pose for a quick shot before tucking into their pasta bake. Behind the Boosh 20, an exhibition by Boosh cast member Dave Brown AKA Bollo, is at the pop-up Behind the Gallery, London, 10-13 October. All photographs Dave Brown

Up on the Roof (Series 3 – Party, 2007)

‘During a particularly long scene, Noel and Julian look a little nervous and possibly slightly aroused as they contemplate their upcoming big kiss scene. I love the light and composition of this shot’

Tony & Saboo (Series 3 – Eels, 2007)

‘This was a particularly special scene. On Head Shaman Dennis’s stag do, Saboo rubs sun cream into Tony Harrison’s smooth pink crease, saying: “Don’t leave it in thick blobs, rub it in. Factor seven?! Shit off! I need factor 67 you ball bag!” It was always a hilarious pleasure to witness Noel and Richard Ayoade riffing off of each other in scenes, kinda like jazz, but jazz on bikes. Two very funny humans in ridiculous costumes at the top of their game, trying to out laugh each other with hilarious absurdities’

Luna Looks (Luna Park, Melbourne comedy festival, 2001)

‘Noel throws me his best blue steel look beneath the giant face of Luna Park as I lie on the pavement among the chewing gum and cigarette butts trying to get the angle. Melbourne festival was always very special, such an amazing city with brilliant crowds’

Come Play With Us (Aberdeen Future Sailors Tour, Press and Journal Arena, 2008)

‘The last gig of an insane tour. A strange place to end things after 99 dates that included Brixton, Wembley, Manchester and Sheffield but still, it was a great gig. Rich Fulcher was doing his usual dicking about pre-show in the corridors, grooving to tunes, practising his fossil moves. As I walked around the corner he was at the end and the blue suit reminded me of the Shining twins. I took two shots of him stood holding his own hand then comped them together. Way more terrifying than Kubrick’s version’

Hitcher Nabootique (Series 3 – Eels, 2007)

‘Loved this set: the sign, the lighting and one of my favourite characters, the Hitcher. Him walking up to the door in the rain was just a perfect moment to capture. All undercut by the ridiculous graffiti. Not sure why “loose change” makes me laugh so much, it’s one of those perfect examples of Noel and Julian’s writing and their way with language’

Noel Draws (Noel’s House during the Future Sailors Tour, 2008)

‘I spent many an evening pre-tour and sometimes during tour, in my flat or at Noel’s place, scribbling artworks for tour posters, DVDs, the book. The two of us produced all of that material. Old art school mates getting busy with the fizzy. We could draw those Boosh faces in our sleep, which became a bit of a problem some nights on tour in posh hotels’

Moody Naboo (Series 3 – Journey to the Centre of the Punk, 2007)

‘Naboo was indeed an enigma. Often found gazing into the middle-distance meditating deep astral conundrums, solving some of the world’s biggest problems and answering those age-old impossible questions like what flavour Pot Noodle he was going to have later when watching Columbo. Here is one of those moments in-between scenes shooting series three in a warehouse in a disused Ministry of Defence site somewhere in Surrey’

Foxy Man (Series 3 – The Strange Tale of the Crack Fox, 2007)

‘One of my favourite characters: those two voices, the laugh, the costume and makeup, terrifyingly hilarious! This is me capturing Julian just after lunch break walking back on set. It was a wonderful vision seeing the Crack Fox stood upright on two legs by the catering van ordering pie and mash from a visibly disturbed catering assistant, all while the real hungry Hackney crack foxes looked on through distant bushes in awe and jealousy’

Fossil Faces (Series 3 Rehearsals – American International Church, London, 2007)

‘Rich isn’t really acting in The Boosh. The character Bob Fossil is 92.4% Fulcher. A force of nature, he will crush any down moment anyone is having with his comedy fists and have you wetting your little blue pants in a hot minute. These shots were taken during rehearsals for series three in the American church on Tottenham Court Road in London. It was a pretty intense afternoon with some writing issues and a few moody clouds brewing. Then Rich provides these six faces and everyone’s laughing again’

Hippy Boosh (Series 2 – The Call of the Yeti, 2005)

‘Vince, Parsley and Naboo in full Polyphonic Spree get-up in front of the big blue studio 11 doors at 3 Mills Studios in east London. We’d just been shooting the song scene in Call of the Yeti and I was still in my Bollo suit. It always amused me when cast and crew from other shows filming at 3 Mills would walk past and assume this show had a Gorilla as the official set photographer’

Bendelack Directing (Pilot Episode –Tundra, Pinewood Studios, 2003)

‘Steve Bendelack directed loads of our favourites: Lee and Herring, Newman and Baddiel, League of Gentlemen. So when he was directing the pilot episode of Arctic Boosh at Pinewood Studios it was a pinch-me moment. Paul King took over from Steve when the first series was commissioned by the BBC. Steve was no doubt busy on something else. Or maybe he swerved it? Stewart Lee, who directed Noel and Julian in the Arctic Boosh stage show for the Edinburgh fringe in the late 90s, said it was like ‘trying to direct smoke’

Mutant Readers (Series 1 – Mutants, 3 Mills Studios, 2004)

‘Mike [Fielding] having some down time in his dressing room sipping on a brew and glancing across at a coupon for 10p off Monster Munch. Two trained thespians sit beside him on the smallest sofa in Europe; one reads a crime novel and an unshaven Pete from Dixons in the middle reads about how Bolton are on the brink’

Graffiti (Series 3 – The (Power of the) Crimp, 2007)

‘I’ve known Noel for over 30 years and Julian for over 25. Something magic happens when those two get together. They’re one of the great double-acts. It was never easy getting a decent shot of them together. Noel on his own was easy; he’d spot a camera lens a mile away in heavy fog. Julian, on the other hand, was usually eating, talking, squinting those already tiny eyes or hiding somewhere in a cabinet. I love these two nincompoops like brothers’

x

[pedropascalsx]

Gif by me.

Kinktober: Day Eight: Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die.

Dave York x F! Reader.

Warnings: Dub-con due to sex pollen.

Summary: You inhale a mystery powder on a job.

Word count: 1489

Thanks again to @absurdthirst for her incredible prompt list 🩵

The building is eerily quiet, the supposed party that’s happening on the second floor is either a blow out or you’ve been given the wrong day. Still your feet climb the stairs and you make your way towards the banquet hall with your boss on your heels.

He says nothing and it makes you feel more uneasy, and the expression etched on his face doesn’t help. He’s pissed. This is clearly a setup or a waste of time, but neither of you can leave until you check to see if your target is on site.

As you approach the door, Dave steps in front of you, signalling for you to unstrap the pistol attached to your upper thigh. His fingers fan out around the doorknob and he twists it open revealing an empty room and you both sigh.

He slams the door behind you both as you step into the room and you notice the envelope with his name taped to the wall. “Dave,” you call out, before signalling to the envelope.

“Open it,” he snarls, “It’ll be McCall. Taunting me. Letting me know he’s always one step ahead.”

You nod before taking a few steps towards the wall and pull it off, opening it immediately and falling into a fit of coughs as a plume of powder breaks free from the envelope hitting you in the face.

“Fuck,” you splutter, before throwing down the envelope and attempting to cough up the powder you’ve already inhaled, not noticing him run up behind you, and pick up the envelope himself.

“At least one of us had the sense to put on gloves,” you say, as you notice him examining the white powder and trying to ignore the fire starting to burn in your veins.

“It’s potent,” you murmur, as it starts to intensify, “Fuck, it’s hot in here.”

“No, it’s not,” Dave says matter of factly, with a snarl and a flash of his teeth. “We need to get back and find out whatever the fuck this is.” He reaches out and grabs your arm, leading you back towards the door and hurrying you downstairs and out the building.

By the time you reach his car, your whole body is burning, your limbs are tingly and you’re soaked in between your legs. “Fuck, Dave,” you murmur, as an uncomfortable need starts to rip through you, an arousal so strong that it’s painful.

“This wasn’t McCall,” he growls, “This isn’t his style.” The engine roars to life and Dave seems unaware of your predicament, “Whatever you’ve inhaled Ari will be able to identify it and we can reverse it or sit with you as you ride it out.”

You writhe uncomfortably in your seat, squeezing your thighs together desperately to get a little bit of friction and some relief from the fire that’s burning there. “Dave,” you whimper, as he speeds towards the safe house, “It fucking hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?” He asks, still focusing on the road.

“Ev-everywhere, but uh, fuck,” you moan, cutting yourself off with a cry as he rounds the street corner and pulls up to the safe house.

“Come on,” he orders, as he swings open his car door and starts running up the stairs towards the house. You groan loudly before stepping out and following him, almost keeling over as you reach the front door and the burning in your stomach becomes too much to bear.

“How much did she inhale?” Ari asks, as you finally step into the house, arms clutching your stomach.

“Not much,” you answer for Dave, “But it was like a cloud of smoke, I moved away before I could take a big inhale.

“Go to your room,” Dave orders, as you become more and more unsteady. “We will let you know what it is.”

**

Peeling off your dress you cringe at the amount of slick that has dripped down your legs, your panties soaked with your arousal as it continues to burn in your veins. “What was that shit?” You murmur to yourself, before throwing yourself on the bed and slipping your fingers between your legs to start to work away some of your need.

The relief is almost immediate, your bundle of nerves crying out with pleasure the second you press your fingers to it. You close your eyes and let yourself fantasize about Dave, as you find yourself doing most nights, and in no time you’re biting your lip to stop yourself crying out loudly in pleasure.

For a few moments you relish in your orgasm, letting yourself come down and exhaling as the burning seemingly dies out. But after just a few seconds the fire is back, and more intense than before, ripping through you like wildfire and sending your pleasure receptors into overdrive. You slip your fingers back between your legs and rub your clit as fast as you can, desperately working your bud to quench the thirst you feel like you’re dying of.

**

“It’s a type of pollen,” Ari tells Dave, “It’s used primarily in sex clubs where they have people to monitor its users, because it can kill you. The trick is to not engage with it,” he says with a shrug, “It wears off pretty quickly as long as you don’t get your heart rate pumping, but if you do, it can last for hours.”

“Shit,” Dave cusses, “It makes people… aroused?” He asks, with a rise of his brows. “I guess I'll let her know.”

“Yeah,” Ari murmurs, “Whoever left that for you to find, figured you’d be alone and wouldn’t be able to fight off the effects by yourself.”

Dave nods, and makes his way to the door, hurrying out and towards your bedroom and pushing open the door without knocking.

**

“Fuck.” He grunts, as he catches you rocking against your hand, tears dripping down your face as you try to work yourself through it.

“It won’t stop,” you cry to your boss, “Whatever it is, it won’t stop.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, surprisingly softer than you’re expecting, before walking towards you. Your fingers are still working their magic as he does, “You’re going to rub yourself raw.” He tuts, “It’s sex pollen. I’ll explain later, but you’re not going to be able to fight in by yourself.”

You whimper as he gently touches your legs and asks, “Can I help?”

Silently you nod your head ferociously as he drops to his knees, wrapping his hands around the backs of your legs and pulling you closer to him.

The first swipe of his tongue feels like heaven, he’s meticulous with every motion he makes as he focuses on your clit. After a few dozen flicks of his tongue, he pushes his fingers inside your dripping hole, fitting two with ease and curling them up against the spongy spot.

It doesn’t take long until you’re cumming on his face, rocking your hips up and tangling your fingers in his slightly overgrown hair before your thighs squeeze around his head.

He pulls his head away, as he studies your face for more pain, and it doesn’t take long before it’s flashing up again. “Need you.” You murmur, “Please, Dave.”

“My fingers or my tongue?” He asks, as he dips his head back down, licking a wide stripe from your clit and all the way down.

“Your cock,” you whine desperately, and he chuckles from between your legs.

“You sure?” He asks, before pushing himself back up.

“Yes,” you almost scream, watching as he works his belt and pulls down his pants and underwear in one clear sweep. “Please.”

“Whatever you need, baby girl,” he smirks, before pushing himself into you with a sharp snap of his hips.

He’s thick enough that it hurts, it’s overwhelming and exactly what you’re needing, and he fucks exactly how you imagined. Hard and fast. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he pounds into you, fucking you into the mattress and drowning out the pain coursing through you and replacing it with pleasure. He wets his tongue and presses down on your clit, rubbing the softest circles as his hips continue their deliciously harsh treatment on your cunt.

With a scream of his name, you clamp down on him so tightly that his hips stutter and a cry of your name slips out of his mouth. Your cum drenching his cock as he works you through your high and with a dozen more thrusts he’s painting your walls and extinguishing a little more of the fire inside of you.

He grunts as he pulls out of you, dropping back down to his knees to see his cum dripping from you, before pushing it back in. “I’ll give you my tongue and my fingers again, and then I'll be ready to go again, baby,” he soothes as he can tell it’s starting to flare up again. “As many times as you need.”

[nausicaamusiclover20]

hi! could you maybe do kirk and dave pining after the reader and her ending up with one of them? i couldnt decide, so id leave that up to you🙈 maybe also w v!reader ? or just her being a bit reserved and shy.. thank u so much, i love your blog!

Thank you so much, but I think that this is very weak. But I hope you like it anyway ❤‍🩹

Just us two

The bar was buzzing with chatter and laughter, but it felt like time had slowed down, the space around us shrinking to just me, Kirk, and Dave. I could feel the weight of the decision in my chest, like a slow, steady beat pulling me toward something—toward someone.

Dave had that way of looking at me, of making me feel seen, like I was the only person in the room. His confidence was magnetic, pulling me in with ease, and yet, tonight, it felt almost suffocating. His words, though playful and teasing, seemed to have an edge, as if he expected something from me—something I wasn’t sure I was ready to give.

Kirk, on the other hand, was quieter. He hadn’t said much all night, but every time his eyes met mine, it was like a soft invitation, a question wrapped in silence. There was a warmth in his gaze, a patience that I hadn’t even realized I needed until now.

"You don’t have to stay quiet, Y/N," Dave’s voice cut through the air, his tone smooth but edged with something more, something almost challenging. "You know, you can have a little fun too."

I didn’t know how to respond. I liked Dave, I did. His boldness was alluring, like a fire I could touch but not fully embrace. But in the pit of my stomach, I felt something stir—a pull toward something softer, something gentler. My gaze flicked to Kirk, sitting beside me. He hadn’t said much, but his presence was like a quiet reassurance.

Kirk shifted uncomfortably, his fingers nervously tracing the rim of his glass. "I—I don’t know what to say," he muttered, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "I just... don’t want to make you feel pressured."

I smiled softly, appreciating the way he cared, his gentleness in the face of my uncertainty. I wasn’t sure what I needed right now, but I could feel it in the way my heart was quietly drawn to him.

"I get it," I said gently, "but it's not that. I just... feel like I've been in my own head tonight."

Kirk looked up at me, his lips parting as if he was about to say more, but he seemed unsure, like he wasn’t sure what the right thing to say was. His eyes met mine, full of something soft, something I couldn’t quite put into words, but it made my heart flutter in a way Dave never had. His patience, his quiet understanding—it was all the reassurance I needed.

The air between us shifted, and for a moment, everything felt clear. I wasn’t drawn to the confident boldness of Dave anymore. I was drawn to Kirk’s quiet care, his ability to wait without rushing me, without demanding anything.

I turned back to Dave, who was still watching us. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the shift, his lips curling into a tight smile. The playful edge in his voice softened as he spoke, but there was still something sharp behind it. "Why don’t you stop sitting there and actually say something, Kirk?" Dave said, his voice taking on a sharper edge, his gaze flicking between us. "You know, it’s not all on her to make the first move."

Kirk’s expression flickered, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his lips. He didn’t like the attention, the push that Dave was trying to give him. I could see his fingers tighten around his glass, his discomfort clear. But there was no anger in him—just a quiet sadness, a feeling of being unsure if he could measure up to someone like Dave.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. The tension was unbearable. It wasn’t the time for games or posturing. I had to make my choice.

I turned back to Kirk, meeting his eyes with a soft, steady gaze. "Let’s go," I said firmly, my voice cutting through the tension. "I want you, Kirk."

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he seemed to freeze, caught off guard by my words. But there was no hesitation when his hand reached out for mine, his fingers closing around mine with warmth and steadiness.

"We should get out of here," I added quietly, the decision finally feeling clear, like the fog had lifted. I didn’t need to say more. My eyes met his, and in that moment, there was no doubt—just a shared understanding.

We stood up together, walking past Dave, who remained sitting at the table. His gaze lingered on us, but there were no words, no confrontation—just the quiet acknowledgment of what was happening.

As we stepped out into the cool night air, the noise of the bar was left behind, and the world felt calmer. The street was quiet, the sound of the city distant but comforting. Kirk’s hand in mine was warm, steady, and as I walked beside him, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t realized I was missing.

“I wanted to make sure,” I murmured after a while, breaking the silence. "I didn’t want to rush anything. But now... I’m sure."

Kirk’s voice was soft, the relief in it palpable. "I’m glad. I just... I didn’t want to make you feel pressured."

I squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his sincerity wash over me. "You never did. It was just me, trying to figure things out."

He smiled softly, the tension melting away, and we continued walking side by side, the city lights casting a quiet glow around us.

We reached a small park bench, tucked away in a quiet corner. Kirk sat first, and I followed, sitting beside him. Our hands were still intertwined, no need for more words.

“I’m glad you’re sure,” he said after a while, his voice gentle, but there was a depth in it, like he was relieved to hear me say the words.

“I am,” I replied softly. "I want this. I want you."

Kirk looked at me, his gaze full of warmth, his fingers squeezing mine in return. We didn’t need anything more. The connection between us had always been there—quiet, patient, and full of understanding. And now, with each other, it felt like everything had fallen into place.