#actually no I brushed past him in a doorway once as I was leaving a seminar

[est-pulcher]

The head of the department is giving an Ars Amatoria lecture this evening! And cheap drinks after!

[lalunalando]

The Love You Want - LN4

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warnings: 18+! minors dni! smut, fluff (may make you cry a little), angst, swearing, slight degradation, thigh riding, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap)

songs referenced: The Love You Want - Sleep Token / Granite - Sleep Token

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2 years.

It’s been 2 whole years since the love of your life walked out your front door after telling you it was over, he couldn’t handle the relationship alongside his career anymore, and that he never actually loved you.

So imagine the surprise you felt when you stepped out of your apartment elevator after returning from a long day of work, only to find him sitting at your door, a basket of dog toys and a bunch of your favorite flowers in hand…

“Lan? Wha-When did you get here? What are you even doing here?” You asked, shock evident on you face as you stood frozen like you’d seen a ghost.

“Oh thank god you didn’t move! I was hoping I wasn’t waiting outside some random apartment and about to scare a stranger” he chuckled, the sound that once felt like home to you now leaving your stomach feeling instantly nauseous.

“Lando, don’t avoid the question. What are you doing here?” You huff as you brush past him, opening your apartment door finally and stepping inside to put your belongings down knowing this probably wasn’t going to be a quick conversation by any means.

“Do you mind if I come in? This really isn’t a talk I want to have out here in the hallway..” he asks awkwardly, gauging your reactions and movements, expecting you to even slam the door in his face after the last time you both spoke. He deserved that, he knows it, but he really hopes you’ll let him in because he has so much he wants to say to you.

You move out of the doorway to let him through with a sigh that doesn’t go unnoticed, twisting at his heart knowing he’s at fault for how this is making you feel.

After closing the door behind him, you turn around and nod towards the dog toy basket with a confused look.

“Oh, I was hoping the pups were still here to give them to, I miss our kids…” he says as he looks down at the floor, suddenly wondering if it was still okay to call them “ours” as if he didn’t walk out on you all.

“They do, they’re just having a play date with the neighbors while I was at work, they’ll be dropped off in an hour” you respond as you head to the fridge, suddenly the bottle of wine in the fridge is seeming very tempting to crack open… “so Lando, I’m going to ask one more time, what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can get out in the moment, he knows there’s a million other things he wants to say, but he froze, and that was the basis of why he was here anyway.

You freeze, halting the glass of wine you were currently pouring, and just stare at him blankly.

“Right, yeah, I should probably explain a little more than that” he laughs nervously while scratching the back of his neck. “Alright, well, I fucked up. I should never have walked out back then, I should have never said you were too much of a distraction to my career to be with and more than anything I should never have lied and said I never loved you.”

“Lan, it’s been two years, why now? Where is this suddenly coming from after two fucking years of no contact whatsoever? And why do you think I want to even hear it? What if I’ve moved on.” It all comes out before you can even stop yourself, the hurt and anger you’ve been keeping in since that day making you see red.

“I never stopped thinking about it, about you. I thought I couldn’t handle being away from you all the time and that you wouldn’t want to wait around for me all the time, but after every race I still just want to come home to you. And I know you haven’t moved on because the love we shared was once in a lifetime, I’m still full of the love you want, please just let me prove it to you. You can tell me you don’t still love me and I’ll leave you alone for good, and maybe you believe that in the end you will be better off that way, but I’m begging you to give me one more chance and I’ll be full of the love you want, no matter what, forevermore.”

By the time he’s done speaking, you both have tears in your eyes.

It was never truly over, you knew you could never stop loving him, no matter how much it hurt you.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re rounding your kitchen bench and closing the space between you both.

Desperate to feel his lips on yours and make up for the two years lost, to show him the love you harbored for him never left.

And boy, did he feel it all.

You needed more of him, you knew it was pathetic of you to fold so quickly but you’d already lost two years and didn’t want to waste any more of it, and when he wore that god damn playboy hoodie you always said you loved seeing him wear, there was no point denying how much you wanted him still.

“I hate that you still have this affect on me, I hate that I never stopped loving you, but most of all, I hate that you’ve still got me in a chokehold”

That confession is all he needed from you before he’s picking you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you down the familiar hallway to your room that he’s traveled so many times before, but with a newly found appreciation for all the pictures along the walls that you could never find it in your heart to switch.

As he throws you down on the bed and climbs over you, eyes blown and full of lust and longing, you can’t help but to admire him.

The gorgeous everchanging eyes, his adorable freckles and moles, and a slight beard he was finally able to grow after years of being teased by the other guys on the grid.

His lips are instantly back on yours, taking all the air out of your lungs and replacing it with his own as if it was the only way you could both live from then on.

You tug at the hem of his hoodie as his hands slide up your thighs to the edge of your skirt, both not ashamed of how fast you need the others clothes off.

Only pulling back for a second to take his hoodie off, his lips are immediately back on you, only finding their way down your throat this time.

Biting just hard enough to make you yelp, he’s instantly soothing the pain as he laps his tongue over the spot, causing you to whimper like the desperate little slut you always were for him.

Hands continuing their mission up your skirt, an almost animalistic growl comes from his throat as his fingers find the lace of your thong, completely drenched for him already.

“Always so ready for me baby, god you couldn’t be more perfect, you were made for me just like I was for you.” His voice filled with lust and love, reminding you that you will always be his.

Flipping you both over and settling you on his lap, he can’t help but want to draw it out a little longer, tease you a little more, make you beg for him.

You grind down on his lap, desperate for even a little relief, because as much as you hate to admit it, no one in the past two years has made you feel even remotely the way he does without even trying.

You’d had your fair share of fixes throughout the two years, using many men to your advantage to try and get over him, but none of them even came close to making you forget. No one did it as good as him.

“Someone is still just as needy and desperate as always huh?” You can feel the smirk even though his lips are against your neck, making you whimper again, just proving his point. “Do you want to show me just how much you missed me too? How good you can be for me?”

“Please Lan, need you, will do anything but I need you”

He laughs, and you know he’s got something sadistic and borderline humiliating in mind, but you don’t care because he knows you’ll do anything for him, you always will.

“Such a good girl, can you straddle my thigh for a second baby?” He says with a smirk you know means trouble.

You do as he says, and shift over to his thigh, giving him a look of confusion as you wait for his next instructions.

“Now baby, I want you to ride it.”

You gasp, this was new for the two of you but you couldn’t deny that it excited you a lot to try.

“I want to see how desperate of a slut you can be for me, I want to watch you get yourself off with nothing but my thigh.” He breathes into your ear as his hand hold your hips, helping you find a stable rhythm.

You can’t stop the sounds coming out of your mouth, and he wouldn’t want you to even if you could.

If Lando could listen to one thing on repeat for the rest of his life, it would be your sweet moans that only he can get out of you time and time again.

As you get louder and start stuttering your rhythm on his thigh, he knows you’re getting close.

“That’s my girl, come on, cum on my thigh and I’ll reward you for behaving so well baby”

That was enough to send you over the edge for what would be the first of many times that evening, screaming his name loud enough that you were sure the whole of Monaco could have heard you.

Still coming down from your high, he doesn’t give you a second to recover before he flips you back down onto the bed as he rids himself of his now ruined pants before pulling your own ruined panties off and climbing straight back over you, claiming your lips once again.

He doesn’t want to wait anymore, watching your angelic face as you came around his thigh was almost enough to make him finish right then and there. He couldn’t lie, he’d obviously been with a few women as well over the last two years while he tried to forget you, but he could never forget you, no one could ever compare to his girl.

Leaning over to your side drawer to find a condom where he knows you both used to keep them, he comes up empty and a little confused.

“I got rid of them, I never brought anyone over anyway.”

And it was true, you always went to your flings places instead, you couldn’t stand the thought of them ruining the memories shared between you and Lando in that apartment, in that bed.

“Do you want me to go grab some, i can run down t-“

“You don’t need it, i trust you.”

He stared at you in shock, he could count on one hand the amount of times you’d allowed him to go in raw before, and he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

He didn’t have to think much longer, your hand reaching down to tease his already painfully hard cock was all the confirmation he needed that you were serious about it.

Swiping his tip through your wet folds to help lube him up, he lines his tip at your entrance and slowly pushes in.

Seeing you slightly wince as you readjust to his size, he’s quick to worry.

“If you need me to stop at any point please just tell me” he says in a hurry.

“Just need a sec Lan, i forgot how big you are…” you said with a whimper, not missing the smirk that flashes across his face.

After a few seconds to get comfortable again, you’re urging him to move and he doesn’t hesitate for a second.

Slowly fucking you with more and more of his cock with each thrust until he’s bottoming out, he can’t help but moan at how you feel around him.

“Baby I’m not going to last much longer if you keep squeezing me like that, feel so warm and tight around my cock, this pussy was made for me”

This has you clenching around him again, drawing out the most feral growl you have ever heard from the man.

In an instant, he’s pulling out of you much to your disappointment, only leaving you feeling empty for a moment while he flips you over onto your front and pulls your ass up, digging his fingers into your hips so roughly that you’re sure there are going to be bruises in the morning.

Good thing he knows you love being marked up by him.

As soon as your ass is up, he’s quick to shove his cock back in, not giving you a moment to adjust as he starts mercilessly pounding you from behind.

This new angle somehow hits deeper, feeling him hit your cervix wall over and over again, mixing pain with pleasure and making you scream for him.

“That’s it angel, scream my name, tell everyone who’s making you feel this fucking good”

As he continues his brutal punishment on your pussy, winding a hand around your front to use his always skilful fingers to rub tight circles on your clit and help you chase your high, he feels your walls start to tighten again as your legs start to shake and knows his won’t be far behind.

“Where do you want me to finish princess? I want you to cum on my cock like the good girl you are but i won’t be able to last much longer” he grunts as he continues his rough pace, getting sloppier with each thrust as you tighten more and more with each one.

“Fill me please, need to feel you inside of me, this pussy is yours and only yours” you pant out, only fueling him to get rougher and faster, pushing you over that edge.

“Scream for me baby, i want all of Monaco to know who you belong to” and with that, you’re seeing stars. His name being the only word on your lips over and over again while you clamp around his cock, feeling his release only seconds after your own as he bites your shoulder to muffle his own moans.

You lay there for a while in pure fucked-out bliss, Lando having moved to be beside you and move your head onto his chest while his arm is around you playing with your hair.

“So, what does this mean for us now?” You have to ask, as the doubt starts creeping in again.

“I know i have a lot to make up for but if you’ll have me, i want to be yours again. I want to stay over whenever you’ll have me here, i want to fly you out to races with me when you can, but mostly, i want to show the world how much i love you, show them what I’m doing this all for at the end of the day”

Tears start welling in your eyes, and all you can do is nod before kissing him again, showing him all the emotions you can’t verbally say right now.

Just as the kiss starts heating up for another round between you two, a loud knock on your front door interrupts the moment.

“Cunt” is all Lando can say in frustration, making you laugh before getting up and pulling your panties back on and chucking his playboy hoodie on to cover you so you can answer the door to the intrusion.

As he lays there and waits for you to return, he can’t stop smiling and thinking about all the ways he plans to make everything up to you.

Maybe a ring in the near future, to show how serious he is and always has been about his angel…

Before he can think much longer, your two puppies come bouncing into the room looking for him, having smelt his familiar scent the moment they got home.

He can’t stop the wide smile from forming on his face, this was it.

This was home, and he never planned on leaving again.

As you stepped back into the room, you couldn’t help the smile forming on your own face.

The boy you loved with every fiber of your being, squealing while being attacked with kisses and jumped on by your fur babies. Your joint fur babies. Your little family was whole again.

Walking over to him you stop before him on the bed, him reaching out to pull you down onto his lap as you sigh happily.

You turn to look him in the eye and hold his face gently, you were glad he was back.

“What are you thinking now babe?” He asks, seeing the all too familiar look in your eyes

“I was more than just a body in your passenger seat, and you were more than just somebody i was destined to meet. I see you go half-blind when you’re looking at me. I love you Lan.” Kissing him again, sealing all your feelings and fate, giving yourself over to him for good.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

My Heart is Yours

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: extreme fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst? tension? this is just very fluffy because he needs it

Synopsis: It's Simon's birthday and somethings changed between you two...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You are currently reading part 2 of “The Roommate Series”

You were up earlier than normal two days in a row but this time you had woken up on your own. Usually on the weekends you slept in, enjoying the fact that you didn't have to go to class or do work, dozing in and out of sleep as you listened to your roommate go through his morning before you joined him. However, this weekend was different than most and it was hard for you to want to stay in bed.

For one, Simon was home. You have gone through many weekends without him, so when he was here it was hard for you to justify staying in bed when you wanted to spend time with him. You learned very quickly that you could never take the time spent with him for granted, not when he might be called back into work randomly and then you’d be left alone again. 

Truthfully it was a double edge sword. The more time you spent with him the harder it was to watch him leave but that was the price to pay when you let yourself get attached to a man who disappeared for months.

Another reason was because it was Simon’s birthday.

You were honestly more excited about it than he was. To him, his birthday was just another day but to you it was a day to make things right, to make things better from the vague stories he gave you about the way he grew up.

It was also a chance to have fun with him and to just relax. You didn’t pass up on those opportunities.

You had plans for dinner before you both got drunk off whiskey and any other alcohol you had in your fridge to watch movies. You also still had to make him a cake but more importantly you still had to wrap the gift you had gotten him.

The door to your room was closed but you still glanced at it as if Simon would appear out of thin air before you pulled his gift out from underneath your bed. 

In your hand was a travel sized joke book, one that had the really bad puns and dad jokes in it but it was the only thing that you could think of to get him that he would actually use. Even if you knew a lot about your roommate, he was difficult to shop for because he had everything he already needed and never thought about what he wanted.

“Just tell me something to get you!” You begged as you both walked through the aisles of the grocery store yesterday.

“I don’t want anything.” He shrugged and you huffed. 

“If you don’t tell me I’m going to get you something you won’t like.”

“I’m sure I’ll live.”

Simon would never tell you but it really didn't matter what you got him for his birthday. He would like whatever you got him because if it was something from you he’d cherish it until he died.

You opened the front of the book to make sure the birthday card you got him was still in there before you heard Simon walk past your room. You somehow had woken up before him and you listened to him shut the door to the bathroom before you let out a short breath.

You put the book back underneath your bed and got dressed. You tried to curb your excitement and instead worked through your head to come up with a plan to get him out of the apartment.

Even though he knew what you had planned you still wanted to act as if it was a surprise.

You left your room once you were dressed and made your way to the bathroom, noting that the door was cracked open for you. It was part of the routine you both had set up when he was home and happened to be in the bathroom when you had to get ready for class.

“Happy birthday!” You swung the door open and stood in the doorway with a grin.

Simon was brushing his teeth but gave you a grunt that sounded like a ‘thank you’. He seemed to have just woken up; his blond hair was tousled from sleep and he stared at you with bleary eyes. He was also still in his pajamas which consisted of just sweatpants since the man was practically a space heater and couldn’t wear a shirt to sleep. 

His entire upper body was covered in scars that you were sure had stories to them. It was uncommon for you to see them but sometimes you got a glimpse which struck something deep within your chest. However, right now you were just happy that he truly didn’t have any new scars. 

There was something strangely domestic about the sight of him brushing his teeth while you stood watching him. It felt like something that was meant to be, something that was natural to the apartment and to you both. It warmed your chest, softening the grin as it settled into you again that he was truly back home.

“I see you slept well.” You said and he didn’t have the heart to disagree. “Feel any older?”

“Pass.” He grumbled after he spit into the sink and washed out the fluoride with water.

You giggled and watched him begin to wash his face, unbothered by your presence. You were still running through ideas in your head about how to get rid of him for a few hours before you decided to play the safe route.

“What’re your plans today?” You wondered, trying to not sound suspicious.

“Get drunk and watch movies.” He reminded you and you hummed in response.

“You mean you don’t have anything else planned?”

He turned the water off and patted his face dry with a towel, turning to you with a suspicious look in his eyes when he was finished. It only worsened when you gave him a smile and he let out a long sigh from his chest. 

“You want me out of the flat.” He stated and you decided that it was time to be truthful.

“Just for a few hours.” You gave him a sheepish smile when he sent you an annoyed look. “It’d do you good to go out.”

“I went out yesterday.”

A soft huff left your mouth as you watched him hang the towel back up and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. You knew that it would’ve been hard to get him out the apartment, he was a homebody who practically confined himself to four walls when he was home. It never bothered you but right now you wished he at least had the motivation to go outside.

“You could go visit your friends?” You suggested even though in your entire time living with him you’d never seen or heard about him having any.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate and you sent him a look.

“At least think about it, geez.”

Simon smiled, it was small but it brightened your mood immensely, as he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it. It had gotten longer since he was gone, the longest you had seen it, and he pulled on a few of the strands to test the length. He didn’t look bad with it that long in your opinion but you assumed by the way he was staring at it through the mirror with intense concentration that he wanted it to be a shorter length. 

“I can pay for your haircut.”

“I prefer cutting my own hair.”

You groaned from his difficultness, not annoyed but you had hoped this would go easier. You weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose to toy with you or if he genuinely didn’t want to leave the apartment. In hindsight, you couldn’t really blame him since he had gotten back yesterday and most likely just wanted to sit around and enjoy not having to be at his job.

Simon made his way over to you and leaned against the doorframe, his tired eyes staring down at you with confusion as he crossed his arms. Up this close, it was really hard to deny just how big he was and it took everything in you to not stare super long at him.

He seemed to have gained more muscle since you had last seen him and yet he hadn’t thinned down much either. Whatever he did for his job made him physically fit and you wondered if that was the reason why he always ate so much.

Not that you were complaining.

His eyes softened as you made eye contact and they bounced around your face as he leaned forward ever so slightly, making it so there was only a few inches between the two of you.

You were prepared for him to stare at you for a long time before he spoke.

“Why do you want to surprise me if I know what you’re doing?” He wondered and continued to stare at you as if he could read your mind.

“You don’t know everything.” You teased and his eyebrows knitted together. “Like the gift I got you.”

Simon’s eyes widened slightly and he stood up, causing you to bite back a few giggles. He tried to hide his excitement but you could see it in the way his eyes had brightened and his usual serious face had gotten happier just at the mention of a gift. 

It was cute, you couldn’t help but look at him with a warm chest as it was almost like looking at a kid who was just told they’d get ice cream.

“You got me something?” He sounded surprised it made you smile more.

“Mhm.” You nodded and he seemingly held his breath in anticipation. “But you’re not allowed to have it until after we have cake.”

You watched him deflate with slight disappointment before his eyes shot over to your room. You immediately knew what he was thinking about and you sent him a warning look that you hoped would deter him from even daring to search through your room for his gift.

Even if the dinner and the cake wasn’t a surprise, you wanted to keep his present a secret because you were honestly a little worried it wasn’t good enough and you still wanted to have the time to be able to potentially get something different for him.

“Okay, let’s compromise.” You said, trying to get him to forget about the gift, and continued when he looked back at you. “After lunch you leave while I make the cake and then you can come back once I start making dinner.”

Simon thought it over for a moment before he nodded. 

“I’ll help you make dinner.” He added but you shook your head.

“You’re not supposed to help, it’s your birthday.”

“It’s my birthday so I get to do what I want.”

You gasped and stared at him with shock, watching as a triumphant smile stretched across his face. Of course he would figure out a way to use your own arbitrary rules against you for his benefit. You were honestly surprised he hadn’t thought to do it earlier but maybe he was waiting for the right opportunity to catch you off guard.

He was smart, too smart to fall for you silly rules and play along with you.

You pursed your lips together as he looked down at you. You pretended to be offended, giving him a fake glare that couldn’t even be mistaken for anger as you fought back a smile.

“Oh, you think you’re so clever.” You poked him on the chest and watched him tense up slightly before he leaned more into your space.

“I do.”

You scoffed, shaking your head slightly as you placed your hands on your hips. You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as amusement twinkled in his eyes. You focused hard on them, knowing that if you didn’t you would be too enticed by the fact that you could smell the fresh mint on his breath that made you dare to think about what it would be like to press a kiss to his lips in this moment. How you could easily take his face into your hands and run your fingers across the blond stubble on his cheeks, tracing every scar that peppered his otherwise clear skin. 

Instead you looked into his dark brown eyes, finding that you were practically swallowed up in the color of bitter coffee and earth. A void of hidden emotions and an exhaustion that seemed to always plague him yet there was comfort within them expanse of darkness. There was warmth that blanketed you as you stared into his eyes, a sense of safety and stability that you couldn’t find anywhere else, only within the confines of the man who stood in front of you.

It was almost too much, too intense to be looking into his eyes like this. Normally you couldn’t do it for longer than a few seconds but doing so now made you feel almost dizzy, like he was taking the air from your lungs for himself.

And yet couldn’t get enough of him. He could be melded inside of you, his entire soul could be mixed with yours and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Fine.” You cleared your throat when you noticed that your voice was shaking slightly. “You can help but just remind yourself that it’s your birthday.”

“Fine.” He playfully rolled his eyes before he gently pushed you back. “Go. I need to take a shower.”

“You brush your teeth before a shower? Weirdo.”

Simon sent you a look, still with the hint of playfulness, before he shut the door and it was as if you could breathe again. You stared at the door, taking in the moment you just had with him before the shower turning on shook you out of your thoughts.

You glanced at the door one more time before you moved towards the kitchen to make some breakfast.

~

Shooting whiskey has never been easy for you. The brown liquid burned your throat and settled in your chest long enough to give you an unpleasant shiver throughout your entire body. It was hard to keep back the water in your eyes and the cough as you downed a shot, chasing that funny feeling that made the world spin and everything a lot less stressful.

You had your own drink but you couldn’t deny Simon when he offered the last three shots of whiskey to you, finding that he could be persuasive when he wanted to be.

Both of you sat on the couch in front of the tv, some kind of movie that Simon hadn’t seen was playing in the background but it had been quickly abandoned after the last few shots. Instead of watching, both of you were preoccupied with each other, talking about everything that you could. 

Well, you were doing most of the talking in between shots and sips of a mixed drink while Simon listened. He sipped on his second glass of whiskey but would occasionally join you for a shot when he felt like he was behind you with how drunk you already were.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was taking it slow and you weren’t or because he was a heavy drinker, but he definitely knew you were having more fun during his birthday than he was. He was too focused on you to really care anyway. You took up the room, demanding his attention and he happily gave it to you without hesitation or protest.

You took another shot, your vision of the world already spinning but you were having too much fun to really notice, and shivered once more. The effects of the alcohol weren't enough to take the bitter taste away just yet.

A smile pulled at the corner of Simon’s lips and he scoffed, getting your attention as you sent him a look through watery eyes.

“Lightweight.” He teased as he took another sip, completely unbothered.

“Shut up, you’re not even drunk.” You slurred and set the shot glass down on the coffee table. “You’re like a mountain.”

“I’m drunk.”

You gave him a suspicious look, one that was over exaggerated due to how drunk you were but it made him smile more nonetheless. 

That should’ve been enough for you to know that he was drunk, since he didn’t give out big cheesy smiles like you did. His cheeks were dusted pink and his tired eyes hungry just a little bit heavier, a haze over them as he stared at you with a dopey look as if he couldn’t quite understand what you were saying but he hung onto every word. He looked content, there wasn’t an ounce of stress left even in his usual tense shoulders as his body subconsciously leaned towards yours, almost as if he was hovering over you.

You were sure you looked just as drunk as he did, if not more, and yet he looked at you with bright eyes that bounced around your face often.

“You are!” You laughed and he attempted to hide the smile behind his hand. “Can’t hold your liquor that good.”

“Better than you.” He took another sip and you playfully cussed him out.

You ran a hand over your face and glanced around the room, noting that it had gotten dark outside. Your eyebrows knitted together and you wondered how long it had been since you both sat down after dinner to watch movies, thinking that only an hour or two had passed until you checked the time on your phone.

“Shit! We haven’t done cake yet.” You exclaimed when you saw that it was close to midnight.

“So?” Simon raised an eyebrow as you shot up from your spot on the couch.

“You have to have cake on your birthday.”

You tried your best to not stumble into the kitchen, failing at doing so but thankfully you didn’t fall flat on your face. You were extra careful when getting the cake out of the fridge despite the fact that you were in a rush, making sure that when you placed it on the counter to put the candles on, nothing was in the way. 

It was a small cake since you knew that Simon probably would only eat a few slices from it over the week before he was over the sweetness. On top of the icing, almost perfectly written since you were adamant to make it look pretty even though you knew he wouldn’t care, were the words “Happy Birthday Simon”. You placed a few candles around the words, making sure they wouldn’t touch the letters before you carried it into the living room.

You were focused on keeping the cake balanced, not noticing the way Simon’s eyes had softened greatly when you walked into the room and set it in front of him.

“I need your lighter.” You opened your palm urgently.

“You’re gonna burn yourself.” Simon protested with a serious look on his face but you waved him off.

“I won’t! Hurry before it turns midnight.”

Simon hesitantly dug his lighter out of his pocket and handed it to you, watching you intently as you lit the candles, making sure that if you burned yourself he would quickly get you to a sink. However you handed him back the lighter without harming yourself and positioned the cake in front of him properly.

You sat down beside him, your knees touching as you looked between him and the cake. A giddy feeling sprung up in your stomach and you wiggled in your spot excitedly watching Simon’s reaction carefully with clasped hands.

He stared down at the cake with soft eyes, the light from the small flames reflecting in them. They weren’t sad, but you noticed that there was a hint of something more melancholic hidden within his eyes that wasn’t there before until he read the writing. He pulled his hands into his lap almost as if he wasn’t sure what he should do before he hesitantly glanced your way.

You gave him a warm smile, one that signified that whatever he was thinking or feeling was okay, hoping that you didn’t go too far.

“Happy birthday, Simon.” You said softly and scooted close enough that now your thighs were touching.

Simon didn’t say anything but he continued to stare at you, eyes a range of emotion as they bounced around your face, stopping for a moment to look at your lips, until you gestured towards the cake.

“Make a wish.”

He rolled his eyes, a soft huff of amusement leaving his nose before he turned towards the cake and blew out the candles. A small smile pulled at his lips when you cheered and he watched as you stood up from the couch a lot more gracefully this time.

“Want a piece or do I have to eat this all on my own?” You teased and he nodded.

“Not a big one.”

You got plates and quickly cut a small piece out for him and for you. You waited for him to take a bite of it first, almost holding your breath as if this was the very moment that would break your entire ego about your baking skills.

Simon took a small bite of the cake and his eyes shut immediately.

“Fucking hell…” He muttered and your stomach sunk.

“What? Is it bad?” You asked him urgently as you gripped your plate so tight your fingers went sore.

“It’s good, really fucking good what did you put in this?”

Your eyes widened slightly and you felt your chest warm as you watched him eat the piece on his plate faster. You were sure if it was the alcohol making him like the sweetness but as soon as he finished the piece he had he went for another one. 

You smiled to yourself, taking a bit out of the cake on your plate. You hummed at the amazing flavors and felt proud of yourself as you eyed Simon.

“My undying desire to celebrate your birthday.”

“Piss off.”

You laughed, leaning into him enough to where you could hear him chuckle under his breath. The giddy feeling inside of you grew and you didn’t dare ignore it as you found yourself enjoying the closeness that you so rarely got with Simon, pushing yourself into his arm just a little more as you finished your piece of the cake.

Your chest warmed more when he leaned against you as if he liked the contact as well and your head fell to his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your chest as you reveled in his warmth. You noticed that he seemed to have gotten hot due to the alcohol and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, causing your eyes to jump down to the tattoo on his arm.

It was rare that you saw it since he often wore long sleeves and when he didn’t you never got a good look at it. You assumed that he didn’t want you to see it since every time you asked or he noticed you were staring at it, he would cover it up. Now, with the way you were sitting against him, he couldn’t see that you were staring at the ink unless he turned to look at you.

His tattoo was a lot more intricate than you had first thought, especially now as your eyes traced over the details in the ink designs. You knew he had a thing for skulls, since the mask he wore around you was the lower jaw of one, so it didn’t surprise you when you saw the skulls littered within the other designs. What did come as a surprise to you was that most of the tattoo was war imagery.

Guns, dog tags, a tank, and a literal military soldier etched into his skin made it less a coincidence and more a deliberate design. It made your eyebrows knit together and you fought the urge to grab his arm to look closer.

Was he military? The more you thought about it, the more it started to make sense with the evidence that you had. Going away for months, the guns, the paranoia and depressive episodes, the wounds, all of it paired with his tattoo made it seem obvious and yet there was one issue.

If he was military, then why didn’t he tell you?

It made you curious and yet wary of the answer. Truly, you didn’t want to know, not when he was so adamant to keep it from you, as if knowing would be something that you would regret. 

Besides, someone in his family could be military and despite your reservations about them from your limited knowledge, you weren’t going to be upset if he got a tattoo for them in their memory.

Simon seemed to have noticed that you were staring at it and he placed his large hand over it, covering it from your view and snapping you out of your daze. He looked down at you, his eyes the same as always except you could see that serious look in them, the one demanded you to not ask questions.

“You still have that gift for me or do I need to do somethin’ else for it?” He wondered and you smiled.

“Wait here.” You handed him your plate before you got up and rushed to your room.

You grabbed the joke book from under your bed and made sure that the wrapping was intact. You went to walk out of your room but hesitated a pit growing in your stomach as you stared down at the silly birthday wrapping paper.

Were you really about to give a guy who might be military a joke book? Suddenly you felt foolish, as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t have and you debated on whether you should pretend it got damaged to get something different. It would save you the embarrassment of giving him a stupid book but it would probably disappoint him in the process. 

You could unwrap it and give him the card instead, but that would nearly be almost more of a let down than the actual gift.

A huff left you and tapped your fingers against the wrapping paper.

You should’ve just gotten him a generic gift that most men get, like a bottle opener or a pocket knife. At least that way he wouldn’t have been too disappointed.

“Still there?” Simon called out and your heart jumped to your throat.

“Yeah, couldn't find it for a sec.” You lied and took a deep breath before you stepped out of your room. 

If you got this over with then at least you could get him a different one later. You could always tell him it was a gag gift in an attempt to save yourself too much embarrassment but you felt that somehow Simon would see right through your lie.

You walked into the living room, holding the book close to you as if it were something precious and sat down further away from him this time, noticing that he always had pulled his sleeves down. You glanced up at him to see that he had the excited look in his eyes like he had earlier in the morning which made you even more nervous.

“You didn’t tell me what you wanted so if it’s bad, I’m sorry.” You prefaced and watched as he raised an eyebrow.

“You’re overthinking this.” He tried to assure you with his usual deadpan tone.

“Maybe…just don’t laugh if it’s that bad.”

“I won’t.”

You hesitantly outstretched the gift for him and watched as he gently took it from your hands. You chewed on your lip as you watched him inspect the wrapping on it before he began to tear it off, causing you to grip the couch underneath you. You were practically burning holes into his face when he finally took all of the wrapping off and looked at the cover of the book.

Simon's eyes lit up and it helped calm some of your nerves. 

“I wasn’t sure what you were allowed to have when you’re gone but I got it travel sized.” You explained and he glanced at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You like my jokes that much?” He seemed amused by the idea and when you nodded, he huffed a laugh.

“There’s a card in the front.”

Simon pulled the card out, a simple card with a dinosaur on the front that had “ur old” written on the front, and sent you a quick glare that made you snicker. He opened the card and raised an eyebrow at the twenty pounds that fell onto his lap.

“Nobody likes cards without money.” You shrugged and he picked up the note to inspect it. “Use it to get cigarettes or something pretty.”

“Something pretty.” He repeated with amusement. “Think a I need a pop of color?”

“It’d do you good I think.”

He grunted and looked at the card, his face falling when his eyes landed on the polaroid that was taped on the inside and the writing that was scrawled onto the blank space of the card. His sudden change in his expression made you fidget with your fingers as you remembered the photo.

It was a rare photo of you and Simon together, one that you pretty much had to force him to take with you since he seemed to be allergic to any kind of camera. You promised him that it was just for you since you wanted to at least document that you were friends with him somehow. You ended up making two copies and thought it was fitting for him to have one since he was your friend after all.

“I forgot I put that in there…” You mumbled but trailed off as you realized he most likely wasn’t listening.

Simon read the words on the card over and over again, his eyes jumping from them to the polaroid as if he couldn’t understand what he was seeing. His shoulders had tensed up and his free hand clutched the banknote so tight that it crumpled in his grasp. 

By now you were worried that you had either overstepped or completely failed with the gift giving. You were disheartened, your throat tightening up just a bit as you tried to come up with something to say to alleviate the situation.

“You can ignore what’s on the card, I wrote it when you were gone.” Your eyes were glued to his face to see his reaction.

Simon’s eyes darted to you and you shrunk underneath his intense gaze. He was breathing ever so slightly harder, enough for you to notice, and his eyes hazy yet there was something deep hidden within them, something that made a shiver go down your spine. His gaze was too much but you still couldn’t look away as much as you wanted to, as if looking away from him would cause more trouble.

He haphazardly put the card down and before you could react, took your face into his hands and kissed you on the corner of the mouth.

You froze. Your eyes were wide and your heart was in your ears as your mind raced a million times a minute, trying to figure out if what just happened was real and if he truly meant to kiss you there. All the while Simon stared at you with similar shock, almost as if he didn’t mean for it to happen at all.

Was he going for your cheek and missed? Was he going for your lips and missed? Did he actually just kiss you or was it a really drunk hug?

You were panicking, your already shot nerves mixing with the alcohol created a strange feeling in your stomach that urged you to attempt to kiss him back. 

However, much to your dismay, he quickly pulled away from you before you could even have your lips connected. Heat immediately washed over you and you nearly ran out of the room as you scooted away from him, completely unable to look him in the eyes now as you felt the need to sink into the couch and never appear again.

You misread the situation, the alcohol had gotten you, the horrible, stupid liquid turned your brain to mush and made you too impulsive. You wanted to die, you wanted to do anything to get rid of the embarrassment you felt that you went to leave before Simon grabbed onto your wrist.

“Don’t.” He pulled you back down and kept hold of your wrist. “Look at me.”

You couldn’t make yourself look at him even if you wanted to. The thought of having to stare at his intense eye right now made you feel sick to your stomach. You just wanted to hide in your room until both of you decided that this never happened and that your friendship wasn’t ruined by a misunderstanding. 

“Please.” 

One word, soft and desperate, had you turning your entire body towards him immediately. You hesitated for a moment before you looked into his eyes, the comforting brown dowsing some of your nerves as he drank up your face, the intensity still there but held back by the fact that his face was red and he eyes broke from yours multiple times.

He looked just as embarrassed as you felt.

You were about to apologize when he cut you off.

“Not like this.” He swallowed hard and stared deep into your eyes hoping that you would understand what he meant without him having to say it out loud.

It took you a moment to realize and most of the embarrassment fading as his eyes darted away from yours. You stared down at his hand around your wrist, his hot skin against yours prickle with goosebumps before you eyes widened. If he doesn’t want to kiss you now that means he wants to kiss you later which means he’s thought about kissing you.

You felt dizzy at the thought and you could hardly think straight as it was. You couldn’t think about the implications of the words he said right now, not when you were stumbling drunk and close to a heart attack due to this very awkward situation that he admittedly put you both in. 

“Oh.”

That’s all you could think to say. A meek ‘oh’ as if that was enough to convey the feelings and thoughts raging inside of you that would surely clear the air if you said them yet you couldn’t find the words to do so. But right now maybe that wasn’t what you both needed.

No, right now you needed to ease the situation so you could think about this later with a clear mind and without screwing it up more.

“Tell me a joke.” You said, your voice still small, and he looked at you with confusion. “Tell me a joke, Simon.”

Simon let go of your wrist and turned away from you. He gave you one last glance before he picked up the joke book and flipped through the pages, taking his time to read through the lines which filled the room with awkward silence that mixed with the random movie on the TV. 

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

“What do you call a prisoner going down the stairs?” He asked and you knitted your eyebrow with confusion. He didn’t look up from the book when you didn’t answer but he nodded. “Condescending.”

“Oh man.” You scoffed, cringing at the horrible joke but finding it hard to not laugh all the same.

You fought against a smile that threatened to appear on your face and you made eye contact with Simon as he glanced at you. You watched as his shoulder relaxed slightly and he looked back down at the book in his hands, eyes skimming the words like mad.

“A book fell on my head today. I’ve only got my shelf to blame.”

“Ugh! Horrible.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter now or the smile as the alcohol made it so much easier for the jokes to make you happy. You scooted closer to him and he turned his body towards you, his eyes still looking at you hesitantly, almost as if he was asking you permission to keep going or to even look at you, but he couldn’t help but smile as well. 

“What kind of murderer has fiber?” He asked and you shook your head. 

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” You waited for him to continue as you prematurely cringed from the bad joke that was about to grace your ears.

“A cereal killer.”

You made a disgusted sound but laughed and rested your forehead against his shoulder. You expected him to nudge you off but he didn’t and instead you heard him let out a quick sigh of relief before he flipped through the book again.

Simon rattled off a few more jokes, each of them making you laugh and taking the tension out of the air until both of you were settled against each other on the couch as if nothing had happened. He pressed his shoulder against yours as he closed the book and stared up at the ceiling. 

The movie took up the silence as you both sat there for a moment.

You looked up at him and he looked down at you when he saw you move from the corner of his eye. You took in his scars again and the way that they seemed more prominent from his red cheeks, looking into his eyes to see that they still had the tired look in them before you spoke.

“How drunk are you?” You wondered and he blinked.

“Not drunk enough to forget this.” He admitted, knowing exactly the reason why you asked him.

You nodded, knowing that you were the same. Even if you were more drunk than you were right now sure that you would remember something like this and yet the thought didn’t scare you. As embarrassing as it was, you didn’t want to forget it.

“Good.”

Link to Part 3

A/N: This feels messy but honestly I can't go back and restart so I hope it's okay. Also Idk how the UK money system works so just imagine what I put is correct and not wrong lol

EDIT: I forgot to put the tags sorry!! @msecho19

[inmyheaddd]

dancing with our hands tied - grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: grayson hawthorne talk about ur feelings for once challenge GO! warnings: jealous grayson 🙈, kind of angsty, mutual pining lmao, kissing, fluffy at the end wc: 1.4k masterlist

grayson hawthorne was a lot of things. but to you, the most important thing was that he was your best friend. as odd as it was, considering he didn’t really have friends to begin with. 

you don’t even remember exactly how you became friends, it’s like you woke up one day and it happened just like that.

your boyfriend of 3 months had just broken up with you, even though you were honestly planning on doing it first.

you were hurt, nevertheless, because you really hoped this time would be different at the start. you’d been trying to get over your stupid crush on grayson for ages now, but they were all futile attempts. 

he had never once shown any interest in you, in the��years of knowing you, so why would you wait on him? if he clearly wanted to stay friends so badly, you’d stay friends. 

grayson could feel himself itching to tell you how he felt as you complained about how everyone was always wrong for you, but it wasn’t the right time. it never seemed to be the right time, and he couldn’t risk losing you. 

he hated himself for doing it, but he did it anyway. he briefly mentioned one of his ‘friends’, and how he had some interest in you. 

grayson said it would be good for you to go out instead of letting your abomination of an ex (his words) get to you. he never thought you’d actually go through with it.

 —

“what is your problem?” you scoffed at grayson as he glared at you from the doorway, his posture rigid. you sat on the edge of the bed, hastily fastening the straps of your heels.

he’d always be been caring, there for you, even funny when he wanted to be, which is why it was so odd for him to be acting like this now.

“i don’t have a problem,” he replied flatly, though the tightness in his voice said otherwise. 

“yes, you clearly do,” you shot back, your patience was getting thin. “i don’t get why you’re acting like this all of a sudden. you tell me to get over my ex, and then when I try to, you get mad?”

grayson’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. “i didn’t tell you to get over your ex. and i’m not mad.”

“grayson, do you hear yourself?” you scoffed. “don’t even try to lie to me about not being mad, i know you are.” 

you gave him a pointed look before focusing on your shoes. the silence from his side was deafening, so you added, “whatever, just leave already. i have to go.” standing up with a huff, you tried to brush past him through the doorway.

but grayson moved faster, stepping in front of you, his hand gripping your waist— it wasn’t harsh in the slightest, but it still stopped you in your tracks.

“don’t go,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I know men like him. you can’t even call them men; they’re merely boys.”

you glared up at him, your frustration boiling over. “you act like everyone’s below you, grayson. i’m not a child, i can make my own decisions.” you looked him up and down, “besides, you were the one who mentioned him.”

his grip tightened ever so slightly, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “i know that, but this isn’t about that.”

your brows furrowed, and your stomach felt heavy after hearing the emotion in his voice.“then what’s this about?” 

he was silent, again, so you sighed and went to get out of his grip to leave. he reached out for you before you could take a step, “you’re right, i’m mad.”

you scoffed again, “yeah? it didn’t take much guessing for that.” 

you saw him hesitate slightly. grayson hawthorne, hesitating — that’s something you don’t see every day.  

“yes, i’m mad. i’m mad at your imbecile of an ex for treating you how he did, i’m mad at myself for pushing you away and suggesting you go on this date, i’m mad at the whole universe it seems, but i’m not mad at you.” he looked at you so intently, with every word he said striking you to your core. 

you could feel the anger dissipating from your body as you looked into his grey eyes.

“never you.” he said softer this time, with a light shake of his head. 

“what are you saying?” you didn’t intend for your voice to come out as quiet as it did.

“i’m saying that it’s killing me everyday to see you with people who don’t deserve you,  who don’t treat you how you should be treated.” again, he hesitated, “who don’t see you the way i see you.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his voice. “and how do you see me?” you asked, your voice quivering slighty. 

grayson let out a breath, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to find the right words. “i see you as someone who deserves the world. i see you as the one who makes me want to become a better man.” he paused, “i see you as the only person who’s ever made me want more than what i have.”

you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as grayson’s words hung in the air between you. “then why didn’t you say anything, grayson? you had so long.” you questioned as your brows furrowed.

“i was waiting,” he trailed off, “it always felt like the wrong time. there were always complications with me that you didn’t deserve to deal with. you deserve someone good for you.“ he took in the way your brows were no longer furrowed, and that you weren’t angry anymore, so he spoke more lightheartedly.

“if i can’t be that for you, that’s fine. but i know clear as day that the man who posts his new cars on social media bi-weekly isn’t.”  

you let out a small chuckle, not even realising how your eyes had start to prick. you blinked back the tears as you spoke up, 

“but you are that for me, grayson. you always have been. i wish you would’ve told me sooner.” 

his brows furrowed slightly in genuine confusion, taking in your words. “i mean, ive just been trying to get over you with these guys.” you looked down at your feet briefly as you talked, “i thought— i thought you wanted nothing to do with me, so i tried to find someone else.” your gaze was focused on his now, “it never really worked, though.” 

“i’m glad that it didn’t.” the sincerity in his voice told you just how deeply he meant that.

for a moment, you just stood there, taking in the weight of everything that had just happened. “i’m glad it didn’t, too.”   

“i apologize for just telling you now, it was inconsiderate of me. i know your date will be coming any minute now.” his eyes softened, “if you want to go, i understand. you—“ 

“—grayson,” you cut him off with a small laugh, and he found himself smiling at the sound. “why on earth would i go when you’re here right infront of me? he’ll be fine; he talks to half of the female population.” 

he let out a small breathy chuckle, his shoulders visibly relaxing for the first time that evening. “i want to do this right with you.”

“everything you do is right with me.”

he took a step closer, his hand had moved  from your waist to your jaw and tilting your chin up slightly. “is this?” he asked quietly, swallowing thickly with hesitation.

you nodded, in a daze, and he leaned closer, his forehead almost touching yours. you could feel the ghost of his lips on yours as your breath hitched. 

it would’ve been impossible to hear him if he wasn’t as close as he was. “is this?” you felt his breath fan across your face as you nodded, and in a split second his lips were on yours. 

his hand moved to where your jaw met your neck, and his other hand moved to your waist again. you reached your arms up, wrapping around his neck.

when you pulled back, he was smiling, seriously smiling. you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. 

“what?” he asked, and you could hear the smile in his voice. 

you shook your head smiling, “i’m just happy, that we’re us, you know?” you looked for the right words, then spoke again “just me and you, but for real this time.” 

“i know. for real this time.” he echoed with a smile that matched yours, before pulling you into another kiss. 

the pieces had finally fallen into place, they had just taken a good long while to do so. 

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus

@anintellectualintellectual @tornqdowarnings @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07

@littlemissmentallyunstable @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor

[kimarii-00]

How would armando react if he is in love with the reader (and the two of them are a couple) but they have a fight of differences and they break up (she leaves him), a few weeks pass and armando doesn't likes her distance, and he doesn't want to lose her, so he does everything in his power to get her back

I follow you! 💗

Break-Up Make-Up

AN: I'm probably going to rewrite this and make this into a fic at some point!

❥ You’re at your breaking point, seriously. How much longer does he expect you to put up with his shit?

❥ He works all day everyday, and only returns at odd hours in the night, if at all. Sometimes you make an attempt to stay up to greet him when he comes in, but it’s rare that you are able to catch him before you end up falling asleep yourself.

❥ The rare times that depriving yourself of sleep actually pays off and you get to see him, he’ll brush you off and answer any questions you may have for him with one worded, half assed answers: “Yeah.” “Nah.” “I’m just tired.” “Mhm.”

❥ You knew his job called for most of his attention, and you knew what you signed up for when you both started dating but you never imagined that it’s be this bad.

❥ You’re starting to think that your relationship is just something he can indulge in whenever he feels like it, which is not often.

❥ Even on his “days off”, he’s working. He’ll get a call from a colleague or something of the sort, and then rush off back into work, kissing your cheek and promising that he’d be back before dinner (He never meets that deadline). If he’s not working, then he’ll blow you off when you try to get him up and out of the house to go do something fun for once. The usual, “Sorry, I’m tired. I’ve been working all week” (like you didn’t know that).

❥ It was another boring day alone in the house you shared, late at night. You didn’t feel particularly tired, so you decided to stay up watching your favorite show until your boyfriend decided to show his face again. You don’t know how long you were up, but your heart skipped a beat when you heard him slide the key into the front door. You were especially excited tonight because, well, it may be cold by now, but you’d made his favorite meal as a thanks for all of his hard work.

❥ You knew he was usually grumpy when he came in due to the lack of sleep, but tonight he was like another man. Another one that you didn’t like.

❥ “Would you please just fuck off, you can’t see I’m tired?”

❥ No matter what other nasty things he said to you that night, that one stung and stuck with you the most.

❥ How does he have the right to treat you like garbage, dispose you when your not needed but then retrieve you when he wants something from you? Who does he think he is when all you wanted to do was show him the meal you worked so hard on, even if it was cold.

❥ “I’m sorry I just wanted to fuckin’ greet you when you finally decide to bring your ass home. I barely get to see your face anymore. This is our first real fucking conversation in— I don’t know how long!” You’d responded to his out of pocketness.

❥ The argument just kept escalating until you reached your breaking point, and you released the bombshell.

❥ “If that’s how you really feel then maybe we should take a fuckin’ brake, since I’m such a damn insect to you!”

❥ “Are you breaking up with me right now?”

❥ You didn’t respond with words but rather actions. You stormed into your shared bedroom, snatched up a suitcase you were sure wasn’t going to fit all of your stuff, but it was big enough for essentials.

❥ You stomped around the room, picking up and packing things you deemed necessary, with him in the doorway trying to get your attention to calm you down.

❥ He didn’t mean for it to get this far.

❥ Once you finished, you shoved your way past him and flung yourself out of the door, taking your car and dialing a friends phone number, whom you were sure would let you crash at her place until you were back on your feet. After all, the two of you lived together, so your decision to leave basically left you homeless.

❥ Armando didn’t see or hear from you for three whole weeks. The time that was spent with you not by his side was damn near the embodiment of hell itself, that is, until he saw you through the peep hole at his front door.

❥ You were half expecting him to not even be at home, you thought he’d drown himself in more work now that you weren’t a factor in his life.

❥ You were surprised by how quickly the door opened and how enthusiastic he seemed. You haven’t seen him like that in a long time and it somewhat weirded you out.

❥ “(Name), I just want to say I’m sorry for—“

❥ “Save it.” You said, “I’m just here to pick up whatever I left behind.”

❥ You watched first hand as the enthusiasm all faded from his face and all he seemed like was a hunk of flesh and bones. Albeit, a hot hunk of flesh and bones, but that’s besides the point.

❥ You walk in and he shuts the door behind you. You walk to where the rest of your things resided and ignore the way Armando followed you around like a lost dog.

❥ “If you’re going to follow me around like that the least you could do it help me load this stuff into my car…”

❥ He nodded and immediately got to work, and you internally face palmed.

❥ This was the man that you fell in love with, not the workaholic asshole that you’ve been dealing with for months on end.

❥ “I am sorry, y’know. About what I said that night… And everything that came before it.”

❥ This caught you off guard, because you’ve only heard Armando apologize a few times, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard an apology by his so genuine.

❥ “I said some things that night too, don’t feel too bad.” You say, acting nonchalant but your mind was racing a thousand miles per second.

❥ “I didn’t even realize how much I worked affected you… Though I guess that’s part of the problem too, right?”

❥ You looked away slightly and nodded, glad he was acknowledging his actions.

❥ “(Name), I miss you. So damn much.”

❥ This caught you entirely off guard but you didn’t reply.

❥ “This house is so empty without you in it. I haven’t even been able to bring myself to work knowing how bad I fucked us up.”

❥ “I can’t forgive you so easily… This was a problem for months along with other things, how am I supposed to be assured that it won’t happen again?”

❥ “I’ll prove it to you.”

❥ He’d royally fucked up your relationship, yet for some reason, he couldn’t seem to find any anxiousness about the process of getting you back… He still loved you, and he trusted that love to guide him into winning your heart back. (He also knew you still loved him, so it definitely wouldn’t take that long… 💀)

TAGLIST!

@dasaniswrlddd @thedarkworldofhananerea @taylormcguire282 @timebomb1101 @5arlan7 @desiiiisworld @babygurl030 @lovelyme22 @Leavemealing @lewispool @yeahnohoneybye @velocitynyoom @maybepersuasivetom @deadpool15 @believeinthefireflies95 @lxla04 @planetnique @arinotarianagrande

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,623 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Era: The Whisperers Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language, discussions of past trauma (nothing super graphic), discussions of violence, allusions to child abuse (Alpha to Lydia), alcohol A/N: You can find the other parts to this series on my Master List! Check out my pinned post. Previous part here!

Daryl had to ram his shoulder into the door of the little cabin a couple times before it gave way, ripping off part of the doorframe in a shower of splinters. He thought you shot him a bit of a look afterward but he couldn’t be entirely sure what your intention with it was or what it was even about. After all, you weren’t happy that he’d, umm, tagged along. He signaled for Dog to enter first and he followed after with his crossbow at the ready, but the interior of the small cabin was completely quiet.

Inside, the rooms seemed to still be stocked with almost everything someone would need to actually live there. The furniture was shrouded under sheets to keep off the dust and most of the windows had been reinforced or boarded up, although their glass was smudged and dusty and a few panes were now cracked or broken out from wayward branches or hailstones. Daryl drifted back to the front door to call you inside. He found you staring at the building with a queer expression on your face, almost a haunted look. Your arm was draped across your body to press your hand to your side right over the bandage that hid Alpha’s knife wound.

“Hey,” he said gently, snapping you out of whatever had been going on inside your head. “S’clear. C’mon.”

You nodded and whistled to Achilles, who burst out of a tree above and landed on your shoulder. The noise of his wings as he fluttered down was reminiscent of wind through leaves. You climbed up the steps and across the small wooden porch to follow Daryl in. As soon as you could, you relieved your body of the burden of your pack and quiver, setting your bow beside them as well. You started pulling the dusty coverings off the furniture and clouds of speckles drifted in what little late afternoon light could still filter through the gray panes. You moved around in a way that suggested to Daryl that you knew this place well; uncovering this but not that, running your fingers along the oak mantle over the fireplace. He drifted after you as you went into the kitchen and he watched as you thumbed open the pantry. Inside were rows and rows of dusty canned vegetables, clearly homegrown and preserved.

You seemed to have felt his eyes on you and looked over before quickly shutting the cabinet again. You squeezed past him where he was standing in the doorway, nearly brushing your body against his, and stepped back into the main room. Daryl’s heart seemed to have jumped into his throat for a moment, inexplicably. He tried to gulp it back down where it belonged.

“What is this place?” he asked you. Dog had already settled down on the rug in front of the hearth like it was an old home he’d warmed his fur in many times. But Dog had a way of making himself at home that Daryl envied.

You paused, halfway through tugging a sheet off an armchair by the fire. “A cabin,” you said, looking at him with a tinge of annoyance.

Daryl sighed and frowned at you. “Ya know that ain’t what I meant. And that ain’t just it.”

You stayed frozen there for a long moment before you finished tugging the sheet off the chair and then glanced back at him, your expression distant. “It’s just—someplace I stayed once… a long time ago,” you said vaguely.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. “Alrigh’,” he drawled, but you could tell he knew it was more than just that. “I’ll take the couch,” he said, tossing his pack down.

“Obviously,” you retorted. “There’s only one bed and only one of us has a stab wound.” He was surprised to hear some note of jest in your voice and he looked up to catch just the momentary wink of a smile at the corners of your mouth. “You’re far too noble to make me sleep on the couch. You barely let me walk out of that community today.”

Daryl huffed a little and sat down on the couch, his mouth tightening into a thin line for a moment. “If I’d had my way—ya wouldn’t have. Ya’d still be in that clinic with Enid watchin’ ya.”

“And probably you too,” you retorted. “Yeah, I know. I’m well aware… and now I have a tail to shake off,” you retorted, easing yourself down into the armchair you had just uncovered. Your cautious movement wasn’t lost on Daryl. Your body ached and panged. You let out a heavy sigh as you sunk into the cushions.

“Good luck. Dog can track. And so can I.”

You smiled at him, a small one that seemed almost knowing. Daryl’s brow flinched down for a brief moment. On your shoulder, Achilles let out a happy sound and his large bill began to pick through and nibble your hair as if he was preening you. Your eyes crinkled in a smile as your head tilted toward the glossy black bird. You reached up and stroked the feathers on his breast and he let out a sound that was almost like a purr. You whispered something to him that Daryl couldn’t quite hear.

“How’d ya end up with him?” Daryl asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he sat forward on the edge of the couch, his attention intense.

Your eyes met his and they were tired, but soft. “Probably the same way you ended up with Dog. He came to me,” you said. Achilles climbed down your shoulder and perched beside you on the arm of the chair. He let out a harsh click click click and looked inquisitively at Dog as he lifted his head and stared back at the bird, his head tilting and his ears at attention.

Daryl nodded. “Dog wandered up to me when he was just a pup. He started comin’ round and hangin’ at my camp,” he said. He ducked your eyes and you could tell he was holding some piece of the story back, but you didn’t begrudge it.

“Your camp?” you asked.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, staring down at his hands and fiddling with a rough spot on the back of his thumb. “Ain’t like I’ve always lived inside walls. Lived way more outside of ‘em. Even before the world went to shit.”

“Mm,” you acknowledged, studying his features; his wavy hair, the sharpness of his cheekbones and jawline, the scar running above and below his left eye. You stroked Achilles’ head feathers as he bent toward you in a bow, asking for attention. “Achilles was an orphan. Fell or pushed from his nest when he was far too small. Ravens are usually cared for by both parents, so I can only assume that one or both of them were lost in a storm or to predators… I’m not sure. But he was just this tiny, helpless thing. I hand fed him and kept him warm, safe. Taught him to use his wings when he was big enough. Ravens are incredibly smart. He did the rest pretty much.”

“And now he lets ya use his feathers as a thank you?” Daryl asked, mainly joking.

You caught the jest in his tone but answered more seriously. “We’re bonded. To him, it’s like the bond he’d have with a mate or family member. Ravens are highly social. As for the feathers, it’s just that black feathers are the strongest and the most resistant to wear. A convenient fact,” you said. “And he’s kind enough to share.”

“S’that true?” Daryl asked curiously.

You met his blue eyes and a strange sensation ran through you when yours connected with his. You couldn’t quite name it, but it was… almost destabilizing. You sat with it for a moment before you answered. “Yes. That’s why many white birds, like seabirds, will have black edges to the feathers on their wings and tails. The dark pigment, melanin just like in people, actually strengthens the feather structures. It’s why they work so well for fletching.” You returned to stroking Achilles’ back, watching the shine shifting in his dark feathers as he moved.

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, nodding. “He got anymore tricks I should know about? Besides yankin’ out my hair on command?”

You allowed yourself a small amused exhale and Daryl liked how the corners of your mouth turned up subtly and stayed there. He thought it was maybe the first actual smile he’d seen on you since he’d looked up at you in that damn tree as you told him to forget about you.

“He can talk, mimic sounds he hears. But he’s not a parrot. He won’t do it on command. Ravens are—” you paused thoughtfully, searching for the right word. “—suspicious. He’s not comfortable around new people or even new objects sometimes… Everything must be thoroughly vetted,” you explained. “If he does talk around someone, it means he’s comfortable. That he’s accepted them. They’re very wary.”

Kinda like you, Daryl thought. But he didn’t speak it. He nodded and glanced at Dog who had gone back to snoozing. “Hungry?” he asked you, climbing to his feet.

“Not really.”

“Well, too bad. ‘Cause ya gotta eat somethin’. Need to get your strength back up. Ya’ve got a lot of healin’ to do.” He started toward the kitchen and your eyes followed him across the room and through the doorway.

“You’re gonna cook?” you called after him. Achilles took off from his place on the arm of the chair and soared over to a large armoire and perched on the top.

He appeared in the doorway again and the expression on his face nearly made you laugh. “What? Ya think I can’t cook?” You shrugged and now did laugh a little. “Alrigh’, I may not be no damn chef but I can cook. I mean, it’ll at least be edible.”

“Well, that generally is the most important quality in food—that it’s edible,” you said, pushing yourself up to stand, wrapping an arm around your midsection again and pausing as some pain shot through you.

“Would ya just sit down and—”

“You aren’t exactly inspiring confidence in me about your kitchen skills,” you argued.

“Nah,” he scolded you, shaking his head. “Sit yer ass down. Now ‘m gonna really have to figure somethin’ out in here,” he drawled. “Ya should be restin’ and I dun want ya breathin’ down my damn neck while ‘m workin’ out here.”

“Breathing down your neck?” you laughed. “Christ, I wasn’t planning on that.”

“Well, I dun want ya—supervisin’ or starin’ or judgin’ me anyhow, so sit back down,” he scolded you again.

You considered him for a long moment but being on your feet again reminded you of how tired you were. “Fine. I’ll just get a fire going and then I’ll sit out here with Dog. Just try not to burn the place down or waste my ingredients, would you?”

Daryl rolled his eyes but disappeared back into the kitchen. You soon heard the clanking of pots and pans and the slamming of cabinet doors. You glanced up at the armoire to see that Achilles had made himself comfortable and tucked his head under his wing for a nap.

“Hey—anywhere to get water ‘round here?” he called out from the kitchen.

“There’s a covered well out back—least… there was when I was last here. But you should probably boil the water just in case,” you said.

You heard the back door being unlocked and tugged open. Dog lifted his head from his paws to look toward the kitchen, apparently concerned about his master leaving.

“He’ll be back,” you told the Malinois. You walked over to the hearth and Dog’s eyes followed you. You sank down to sit on the hearth, wincing at the pain running through your torso. “Fuck,” you murmured, wrapping you hand around your middle again.

Dog tilted his head and whined lightly, looking at you with bright, inquisitive eyes.

“Oh, hush. I’m fine. I don’t need you worrying about me too,” you told him, straightening and turning your attention back to the fireplace. You leaned in and opened the flue, wiping the dark smudges of soot that transferred to your hand on your pants. The basket beside the hearth still had faded newspapers, tinder and kindling piled in it and there was a large stack of dry wood beside it too, now shrouded in cobwebs and coated in dust. But you reflected on the fact that it really looked like no one had been here since you’d left… and that had been years ago.

As you busied yourself with getting a fire started, you heard Daryl enter the kitchen and get back to whatever he was doing in there. You soon had a happy blaze crackling away and it cheered and soothed you instantly, casting the previously gloomy and neglected interior in a warm glow.

Dog had already settled his head back down on his paws, but as the flames licked around the logs, he shifted more closely to it and it drew an appreciative chuckle from you. You slipped off the stone ledge of the hearth and knelt beside him on the floor. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dog let out a content sigh and closed his eyes, the fire warming his back. You sunk your fingers into his soft fur and he quickly exposed his chest and belly for scratches, which you provided with a smile. In no time, Dog was snoozing on his side again and you propped your back against the stone ledge of the fireplace. It warmed your back and shoulders. It felt good. It helped your focus on something besides the pain in your body from your fight with Alpha. Your fingers ran through Dog’s thick fur absently, almost meditatively, and you let your mind drift for the first time since you’d left The Hilltop.

Daryl appeared in the doorway and looked in, surprised to see you nearly cuddled up with Dog on the floor. You must have felt him looking at you because you glanced up, and it was like a lightning bolt shot through him at the exact moment your eyes met his. His heart jumped in his chest and he found himself inexplicably nervous. “Dog’s won ya over, huh?” he drawled. “I might have to ask him for some tips.”

“Not anything you could emulate,” you joked.

“Nothin’?”

“He’s not a person. I tend to prefer most animals to people.”

Daryl smiled briefly. “Yeah. I think tha’s fair.” He ran a hand nervously over the back of his neck. “Well—food s’almost done. Can’t say whether it’s any good or not—”

“It smells good,” you remarked. “Even if I don’t feel much like eating.” You started to try to climb to your feet, grimacing and struggling to even get your feet under you at all, let alone stand up. Daryl hesitated for a split second before rushing over.

“Uhh—can I—can I please help ya up before ya rip a damn stitch?” he asked.

You struggled for one more second, but sore and exhausted, you relented and gave him a hesitant nod. He extended his hands and you delayed a moment longer, looking unsure, before placing yours in his. He gently pulled you to your feet and for some strange reason the two of you were frozen for a moment. The time had passed when he should have let go and you both felt it. Your breath seemed caught in your throat until he finally slipped his hands softly away from yours, tingles left behind like the ghosts of his touch, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll just go check on the—the food. Ya should go sit down,” he drawled, and he made a hasty exit for the kitchen.

Ten more minutes passed and Daryl came out with two steaming bowls. Funny enough, both Dog and Achilles perked up as he handed one to you where you had sunk into the armchair again. “S’just—some dried beans and bunch of those canned veggies ya had in there. Tomatoes, onions, garlic, uhh… peppers, I think? Careful. Bowl is hot.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, accepting it by the top edge of the bowl. Your fingertips brushed the back of his hand and Daryl swore there was a static charge, though you didn’t seem to react as if you’d been shocked. Achilles stretched and then fluttered over to perch on the back of your chair, letting out a squawk and interested trill as he peered over your shoulder at what was in your bowl, tilting his glossy black head this way and that. Dog trotted over to beg at Daryl’s side and while he watched Daryl eat, a string of drool grew in length until it touched Daryl’s knee and pooled a bit on his black pants.

He let out a disgusted noise. “Agh… Dog! Dammit, get back!”

You couldn’t help chuckling a little as you scraped at the last of your meal.

Daryl looked up in surprise. “What? Yer laughin’?”

You glanced up still smiling and shrugged a little. “Maybe,” you said, unable to hide another chuckle at his expense.

“Yeah, real nice. After I cooked ya this five-star meal,” he joked.

“It was actually pretty good,” you admitted. “Maybe I was hungry after all.”

“Ya should be,” he murmured, chewing his last bite and wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. “Ya ain’t had anything in how many days?” He stood and came to collect your bowl.

“No—I’ll deal with the dishes,” you argued. “You cooked.”

“Nah—look at ya,” he growled, taking your bowl. “Ya can barely stand up. And ya sure as shit ain’t haulin’ more water like that. Just lemme do this.”

You watched his broad shoulders retreat toward the kitchen. “I can stand you know! We walked how many miles today?”

His voice rang out from the kitchen again. “Exactly. Ya did yer standin’ and walkin’. More than ya shoulda. Ya should’ve been in bed all damn day!”

You rolled your eyes but got to your feet anyway and threw a couple more logs onto the fire, blowing on the coals to get them to catch. Dog came back to the rug in front of the hearth and circled a few times before laying down. You wandered over to a painting hanging over a long, low bookshelf. It depicted an early morning landscape shrouded in fog. The grass was luminescent with dew and you could practically taste the verdant smell of the meadow as you looked at it. But you lifted a hand and nudged it aside. It swung on the wire hanging over the nail and revealed a little nook behind it.

Daryl was walking back out of the kitchen and froze at the threshold. “What’re ya doin’?” he asked, his brow furrowed. He watched curiously as you withdrew a glass bottle and then replaced the painting. You straightened it carefully before you looked over at him.

You held it up so the light from the fire cascaded through the deep amber liquid inside.

He frowned. “Uhh… should ya be drinkin’ in yer condition?”

This drew another dry laugh from you. “I’m not pregnant. I have a knife wound. And… some other bruises. It’s fine.”

His brow furrowed. “Dun ya have a concussion?”

“It’ll be fine. Look—I need something to take the edge off, alright?”

“Yeah, ya should’ve stayed in the clinic,” he said for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. “Enid woulda had pain meds for ya.”

“Well, I didn’t,” you replied. “Am I drinking alone or what?”

He fixed a long stare on you and then sighed, giving in.

“Great. Get some cups from the kitchen, would you?”

He returned with two mugs and handed you one. You poured in a healthy share of whiskey and then held the bottle up to offer him some. He held his mug out. “Not sure I should be encouraging this…”

“Come on. After all the trauma I just went through you can’t let me drink alone,” you joked wryly.

He shook his head at you but took his glass over to the couch and sat down, planting his boots up on the coffee table and taking an exploratory sip. “Mmm. S’pretty damn good whiskey.”

“Yep. Medicinal grade,” you said, gulping down a good amount. You were hoping it would ease not only the pain in your body, but quiet your anxious thoughts a little too. A slightly fuzzy head sounded good at the moment. Either way, a nightcap hit the spot after the decent meal and with the fire crackling in the fireplace… You could almost forget outside was a hellish nightmare of death and violence. Almost. You never could completely forget.

“Pretty nice place ya got here. And pretty well stocked,” Daryl said, interrupting your train of thought.

“Who says it’s my place?” your retorted.

“You did.”

“No. I just said I stayed here once.”

Daryl gave you a knowing look. “Alrigh’. Maybe ya didn’t say exactly, but ya know where the damn hidden booze stash is… And I could tell even before that. Ya moved around in here like ya knew it. But… ya left so many things behind, especially all that food in the kitchen. Ain’t exactly like ya can walk down to the grocery store and pick up what ya need anywhere.”

You ducked his gaze and ran a finger over the curving handle of the mug in your hand. You raised it to your lips and took another big sip. The burn down your throat and into your stomach felt good.

“Ya have to leave here in a hurry?” he asked. You didn’t answer, but Daryl didn’t seem to need you to and he wasn’t deterred. If you had looked up, you would have seen his blue eyes narrowed perceptively, flickering over your features. “Ya left it all here on purpose. As a… like a safehouse,” he said, nodding. He didn’t ask it as a question. “As a ‘just in case’,” he finished. “Yeah. Ya seem to live your whole life with a ‘just in case’.”

You looked up at him, your brow slightly furrowed. “What does that mean?” you asked, an edge to your tone.

He shrugged. “Nothin’. Sorry. I dun mean anythin’ bad by it. Prob’ly just means—ya didn’t have a ‘just in case’ sometime when ya needed it. And ya ain’t ‘bout to make that mistake twice.”

You gulped, feeling how exquisitely close to the mark he was deep in your midsection as a tense knot materializing somewhere behind your navel. You downed the last of your whiskey and eyed the bottle again.

“Must be a lot for ya to have me here, lettin’ somebody else know ‘bout it. Thanks for trustin’ me that much.” You did. You didn’t know why, but you did. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d trusted some—wait. Yes, you could. “Ya won’t tell me a thing more about ya? About what’s happened to ya?” he asked. “Bout the trees? Bein’ up there?” His voice was gentle and patient. Your eyes flickered back over to where he was sitting reclined on the couch, his hands absently twirling his mug.

“Why do you want to know my story?” you asked in a low voice.

He shrugged. “‘M just—tryin’ to understand ya,” he drawled.

Your brow furrowed. “But why?” you asked softly. “Why does it matter?”

Daryl fiddled with his now empty mug and shrugged again. “It just does. To me. Ya saved my life and I can’t shake the feeling that yer in somethin’ with these Whisperers, Shepherds as ya call ‘em. And if ya are, I want ya to know that ya dun gotta do it alone. My place, the communities ‘m tied to, they’re full of good people. People who’d help ya. People who did help ya.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that I recognized Lydia and know about The Shepherds? All these questions,” you said.

“No. But I ain’t gonna lie and say I don’t wish ya’d just tell me what ya know.”

You grabbed the bottle and poured in a generous amount of whiskey again. You leaned forward, ignoring how it sent a sharp pain through your stomach, and set the bottle in front of him on the coffee table. You considered him for a long moment. You thought about his people who had saved you, about the place they’d brought you to. It had seemed wholly good. He seemed wholly good. Your gut was telling you, over and over, that you could trust him. It had told you that since the night he’d ended up at your tree in the storm. But you’d been wrong before and you had to consider this all carefully. What harm could come from opening up, just a little bit, to this one person? Logically, you didn’t think much, but it still felt… scary. You took a small sip of whiskey and let it sit on your tongue a moment, the smokiness of the oak. “I can’t really tell you one without the other, I suppose.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“About them and about me, at least some of it. In some—sick way, we’re connected.” You froze for a moment, truly wondering where to start. Daryl leaned forward and poured another share of whiskey into his glass before sitting on the edge of the couch, leaned forward, ready to listen intently. “I know a lot about The Shepherds,” you said. “More than probably anyone alive who isn’t one of them.” You gulped and tried to suppress the flashbacks that were threatening to surge forward. Your hand shook as you raised your mug to your lips again and took a big drink. “Alpha is not someone you want to fuck with lightly. She’s ruthless, even to her own people. The things I’ve seen her do—” You broke off and shook your head, shutting your eyes for a moment as you tried to retain your composure. You licked your lips and went on. “Look, without going into my whole backstory since the world went to shit—I was part of a community once. One that was probably a lot like yours. All of a sudden, Alpha comes out of nowhere and starts telling us that we’re trespassing on her lands when we’re hunting the same areas we’d been hunting for years. She threatened us with consequences if we didn’t pay attention to her borders. But the reality was that we had hungry people, hungry kids to feed. It was winter and game was already scarce. Supplies were tight. I wasn’t going to wait around listening to the leaders sitting on their asses talking while kids starved. I went out and hunted like I felt I had a right to. The way I had been…” You felt as if a concrete block had just materialized on your chest. It was built of residual anger and grief and guilt and blame… “‘Fuck her borders,’ I thought.” You averted your eyes to stare down into your mug, swirling the whiskey inside and chewing on your bottom lip. Daryl swore he could see the color draining from your face. “One of them saw me. Of course they did… we didn’t know they wore the dead’s faces then... But I figured it out real quick when what I thought was a walker started attacking me with a knife. That one and two more ended up dead.” You sighed and your head fell back against the chair. Achilles, still perched on the back, picked at your hair and let out a soft rasp. “If they’d managed to kill me, that might’ve just been the end of it,” you thought aloud. “Probably not. But maybe.”

Daryl gulped. He had a bad feeling about where this was going. “What happened after that?”

You let out a dry laugh and blinked away the moisture burning in your eyes. “Alpha went back to my community, where the leaders themselves were enjoying the venison and rabbit and quail I had shot, and offered them a deal. But she didn’t come alone this time. She brought a horde with her, and delivered a note into their hands. A final warning. If no one else crossed her borders again, she would leave the community alone. But there was a caveat. She wanted me in exchange,” you said.

“Dun tell me they—” but Daryl broke off, reading the answer on your face. He couldn’t even begin to contemplate that level of betrayal.

“They did. More than that, they did it right proper, with a vote. Yay, democracy,” you said wryly. “They traded me for their safety. Turns out one of the ones I killed was Alpha’s number two. Beta. Not the same Beta she has now, obviously. A different one. And she was pissed. She was pissed that I’d killed them, but more than that she was pissed that I had defied her, ignored her. If there’s one thing Alpha hates, it’s people who aren’t intimidated by her. She wants people scared, even her own. It makes her feel… powerful.”

Daryl stared down into his mug and then downed the whole thing. “I’ve known—plenty of people like that.”

You nodded. “Yeah. They seem to do well these days.”

“So, what? They took ya prisoner? And your community just went on livin’?” The rage in his chest was starting to boil over.

“Not exactly.”

Daryl’s brow was low over his blue eyes, casting them in shadow. “So, what happened?”

“I was taken to Alpha’s camp as a prisoner,” you said, resting your hand over the knife wound again, which seemed to pulse and burn as you talked about the one who’d given it to you. “I think I’ll—I’ll gloss over the finer points of that experience…” Your voice went soft and trailed away.

He ducked his head. Though across the room, he could feel the waves of pain and suffering radiating off you. He cleared his throat finally so you’d look up at him again. “Look, ‘m sorry. Ya dun gotta tell me any more of this if—if it’s too—”

“We already started,” you said, straightening up again. “Might as well finish.”

He nodded. “Where’d Lydia come in?” Daryl asked.

Your expression unstiffened, became less stony. “She was really just a kid then. Little. I saw Alpha beat the shit out of her countless times for screwing up, which was really just being a kid with normal needs. Sometimes, at night when she couldn’t sleep which was often, Lydia would come and talk to me. She’d ask me questions about the old world or about where I came from. Bring me whatever little bit of food or water she could. There was a—a kindness in her that her mother couldn’t kill. But it didn’t stop her from trying. Eventually, Lydia saw that they were going to kill me. I was going to die. Whether it would be from exposure, or hunger, or sickness, or the fighting, or whether Alpha just decided ‘today is the day’… neither of us knew, but I was going to die there.”

Daryl drew in a sharp breath as he realized. “She let ya go. Lydia.”

You nodded. “Yeah. And I tried to take her with me, to convince her that she didn’t deserve everything her mother—” you broke off and shook your head. “She wouldn’t. She was young. She was afraid. She almost didn’t remember any other kind of life…” Daryl watched you wince at the thought of leaving her behind.

“S’not yer fault,” he said. You looked up at him quickly, vague surprise on your face. “Ya tried. Ya can’t help people if they ain’t ready for it.”

You let out a wry laugh. “That sounds familiar… considering recent events,” you joked, giving him a semi-sheepish look.

“So, what happened after ya escaped?”

“I… went back. After what I’d seen out there, I had to try and warn them. Even if they’d traded me like a fucking sack of corn, I had to tell them. They betrayed me, maybe as good as killed me in some ways, but there were plenty of people in there who didn’t deserve what would come from The Shepherds, from Alpha. They were scared…”

Daryl’s brow furrowed more heavily. He stared in disbelief. “Ya went back… to the damn people who—”

“No.”

“No?” he repeated, confused.

Tears welled up in your eyes again and you fought against them, blinking rapidly to clear the blur. “No. I was too late. There was… nothing to go back to. No one. They were all dead. The whole place was ransacked, destroyed. Alpha had brought her horde in. She’d lied. There was never any fucking deal. She put the community board’s heads on pikes,” you said, your face distorting in disgust and anger as you remembered it, could almost taste the copper in the air.

Daryl’s heart sunk into his boots. “Fuck… ‘m—‘m sorry.” The distant look grew in your eyes again. You seemed to fade away, behind some gray veil where he wasn’t sure he’d be able to reach you again. Your voice drifted out from behind it.

“I still wonder if I hadn’t gone out hunting there again,” you shook your head, “maybe none of it would have turned out that way. All those people… families. Kids. They’d still be alive. Maybe the community would still be standing.”

Daryl’s chest ached. He felt hollow. Not just because of what you were telling him, of what had happened to you, but at the thought that it might happen to the people he cared about—The Hilltop, Alexandria. “Look, I’ve done things—things that I felt led—to some real bad shit happenin’. Got people killed.” Flashbacks of the line-up burst behind his eyes and he had to close them for a moment and steel himself before he could go on. “But we dun get to know. We don’t. It ain’t how it works. So, ya can’t keep on carryin’ that guilt. Maybe shit woulda turned out different, but maybe it woulda turned out exactly the same. Hell, maybe it woulda been worse. Ya made a choice to try and feed some of yours. Ain’t no blame in that.”

You looked up at him for a long moment and finally sighed. “After that, I just… I left. I hid.”

“Here?” Daryl asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. I found it and I built it into some kind of a life until I was ready to go after them.”

“Alpha.”

“And the others. She has a lot of loyal followers who are nearly as fucked up as her. If I get the chance to take them out, I do.”

Daryl set down his empty mug and clasped his hands between his knees. “Why was Lydia so angry with ya? When we went to see her at The Hilltop?”

“Because I’m killing them. Because she knows I want to kill Alpha. Because she knows she should have left with me? I don’t know. All of the above.”

Daryl’s mind was whirling, but he could see that you were exhausted, physically and now emotionally. “Thanks for tellin’ me,” he said. “I mean it. That—that can’t be easy to talk about. And… I understand why ya felt—unsafe at The Hilltop. It’s a community and it’s got people and I sure as shit would have some fuckin’ trust issues after that,” he said.

You let out an amused exhale. “Trust issues? Who says I have trust issues?”

“Oh—Nah, I—No, I didn’t—”

You let out a laugh and it broke the tension immediately. “Relax, Daryl. I’m kidding. You nailed it. But—I also suspect you may have some,” you said perceptively.

“Me?” he retorted. “Nah, I trust ev’rybody. ‘M a real open book…”

“Uh huh…” You leaned to one side as Achilles suddenly took off and landed almost silently on the rug beside Dog. He hopped closer and tilted his head one way and another, puffing up the feathers on his head and chest. Dog lifted his head lazily and turned to look at the bird. Achilles let out a low croak and strutted closer. “Achilles,” you said in a warning tone. “Be nice.”

He flapped his wings a little and walked around toward Dog’s tail. “Achilles…” But the raven showed no sign he was listening. He took a hop toward Dog’s long tail, the Malinois looking on, and then seemed to consider something for a moment. He made an exploratory grab at Dog’s tail, which the Malinois quickly flicked away and punctuated the action with a low growl. Achilles’ head tilted this way and that, thoughtfully, but the next second he hopped closer and repeated the annoyance. Dog rearranged himself more strategically on the rug, flicking his tail away again and curling his front toward the bird. He let out an annoyed noise. Achilles flapped his wings and gurgled, taking in Dog’s much closer muzzle and watchful gaze. Then, apparently undeterred, he darted forward, took hold of the end of Dog’s tail in his bill, and pulled. Dog lunged and barked. “Achilles!” you scolded him as he flew away with his prize, a tuft of Dog’s fur, and soared a victory lap around the room back up to the top of the armoire again.

Daryl couldn’t help himself and laughed at the bird’s antics. You rolled your eyes. “Don’t encourage his bad behavior,” you said. “Achilles, come on!” you said, pushing yourself up to stand. “Bedtime. Let’s go.” You held out your arm and he soared over and landed gracefully. You scratched his head affectionately. “Sorry, Dog. He can be pretty incorrigible.” The Malinois blinked at you, sighed, and went back to sleep. “Alright,” you sighed. “I’m pretty tired so… I think I’ll turn in.”

“Yeah. Yeah, good idea,” Daryl said, standing abruptly and awkwardly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Dog and I will hold down the fort out here…”

You nodded and started toward the door that led to the bedroom. “Night.”

“Night…”

When you got to the threshold, you looked back at him. “I meant what I said, you know. About Alpha. You and yours should take The Shepherds seriously. Especially since you have Lydia, the whole community could be in danger. To her, Lydia is a possession.”

He nodded, a little confused by the abrupt warning. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks again, for tellin’ me.”

With another nod, you disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door softly behind you.

[honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s]

"Enemies" to lovers with Matt | Aching |

thank you so much @fl3wers for the request!! sorry it took so long my love, college was on my ass 😭

warnings: all lowercase, angsty with a dash of fluff, slow-burn/pining

word count: 1.2k

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he was just annoying. not necessarily mean or cruel. and you didn't hate him but he was so gorgeous and so unavailable that you didn't know whether to jump his bones or smack him. not that you'd do either of course. he's nicks brother.

you knew that matt was an anxious person, quiet at times too. maybe you freaked him out with how you talked nonstop whenever you got passionate about things, and maybe the way you always forgot where you put things made him impatient, and maybe the fact that you still talked to him even though you drove him crazy just pushed him into hating you more.

“why are you still here, don't you have a home to go back to?” matt asked, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his hands gripping the door frame above his head as he tilted his head like an inquisitive puppy.

“why? you sick of me already sunshine?” you teased, poking his ribs as you rolled your eyes, brushing past him to grab your keys.

“hey! where are you going?” he asked immediately, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist to pull you back to him. you immediately pulled his arm away from you, ignoring your heart pounding from his simple touch.

“you just asked me to leave dipshit.” you teased, looking at him with a dead stare, your arms crossed. he rolled his eyes at you but you cut him off before he could protest.

“I'm going home” you replied matter-of-factly, his eyes bore into yours before they moved to scan your face. you could've sworn they lingered on your lips for a moment but why would they? omfg focus.

“its past two am.” he stated.

“well done, you can tell the time bernard.”

he rolled his eyes at you, his jaw clenching. fuck why did have to look like that. you turned away from him, moving to grab your jacket but matt stepped in front of you, your head crashing into him. you shove him gently, his hands wrapping around your wrists in annoyance.

“I'm not letting you go home this late, it's too dangerous” he shook his head, a light blush dusting his cheeks, “nick would never forgive me if anything happened to you” he muttered, “stop being stubborn and accept me actually being nice to you for once”

you blushed, looking down at your feet. you hated that he was right, and you hated that he was being nice and you hated his beautiful face.

“fine” you spit out, like the word was on fire in your mouth.

“you can stay in my bed.” he said like it was obvious, letting your wrists go before swiping your keys from the counter and walking away, leaving you standing in the kitchen.

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you ignored his instruction, walking to nicks room instead to ask if you could stay with him. you opened the door, sighing as you see chris's head above the covers with nick snoring beside him. fuck chris and never sleeping in his own bed.

you sighed, closing the door and preparing your stuff to sleep on the sofa but to your surprise, you find matt laying on the sofa, his head resting on his arm as he scrolled through his phone.

“go to your bed matt” you sighed, hitting him on the head with a spare pillow. he laughed at your attack, throwing a cushion back at you.

“see this is why I'm not nice to you, you're never grateful” he smirked, “I told you to take my bed, I'm okay here.”

“you can't tell me what to do bernard” his jaw clenched at the nickname, his eyes closing in frustration.

“fine.” he groaned.

he got up, moving his stuff from the sofa. you hopped on the sofa the second he got off and started making yourself comfortable when you noticed matt do the same on the floor beside you.

“matt what the fuck, go to bed” you laughed. he ignored you, placing down his pillow (and stuffed animal) and getting comfortable.

“you're not the only one who can be stubborn” he smirked, looking up at you smugly as he pulled his blanket around his shoulders.

“youre ridiculous” you rolled your eyes but your cheeks gave you away. you laid back down so he could no longer see your blushing cheeks. you longed to see his face as he continued his teasing but didn’t trust yourself to not kiss him to shut him up.

“youre the one who passed up my gracious offer.” he teased.

“and you're the one who'd rather sleep on the floor than his own bed just to spite me” you teased back, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing. there were a couple beats of silence before matt spoke again.

“it's not to spite you”

“what's it for then?” you asked shyly, turning on your side so you were facing towards him, despite still not being able to see his face, just the tips of his hair.

“I don't want to be alone” he whispered.

you quietened, looking down at him shyly.

“you must be pretty lonely if you'd rather have me for company than be alone”

“shut up” he laughed, throwing a pillow at you as you keel over, holding your tummy in laughter.

you both continued your conversation into the night, laughing and joking like you were childhood best friends. it almost felt like a sin, a secret crime committed by your forbidden friendship. you left behind your roles as rivals and simply existed in dumb jokes and embarrassing stories and fond memories.

the night made him softer and it made it harder for you to pretend to hate him. you wished that you were next to him, that you were in his bed with him and that you could hold his hand and play with his hair. you hated how he made you feel like a dumb child with a crush, craving domesticity.

you listened to him tell you about a hockey game where he ended up being sent off (again), his voice lulling you to sleep. everything in you ached for him, you craved closeness and sleepily you reached down for him.

matt noticed your outstretched arm hanging off the sofa. he reached to hold your hand, his heart aching for you close to him but stopped himself, blush rising on his cheeks.

you couldn't have possibly been reaching for him because this wasn't a movie where the boy ends up with his brothers best friend. he turned over, silently cursing himself for starting a dumb rivalry with you instead of kissing you when he got the chance. and so he fell asleep wishing that you had taken his bed so he could've laid with you instead of regretting his choices.

when you woke up, his stuff was gone and you realised he went back to his bed at some point during the night. you sighed, thinking that maybe you two were finally going to drop the facade. that maybe you were what he wanted and not the dumb fights. and so you stared up at the ceiling and wondered if your late night talk was all in your dreams when you should have been waking up with him instead.

THANK YOU FOR READING FEEL FREE TO REBLOG AND COMMENT YEAH THANK YOUUU

[mollymauk-teafleak]

now we're partners in crime

Some more Huskerdust! I just wanted to write something fluffy and happy for them, huge thanks to @minky-for-short for being a wonderful beta!

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3! <3

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Angel Dust is no stranger to the morning after. In fact, he's pretty much a professional.

And he has to admit, he's had worse in his life when he wakes up with a bitch of a hangover, in a random hotel and next to his boyfriend, Husker.

Though when he puts together the pieces of the night before, he realises they did something very, very stupid.

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With all the things to dislike about living in actual fucking hell, the decor probably shouldn’t have been as high up on Angel Dust’s list as it was. But he’d argue there wasn’t a sin invented that deserved the punishment of opening aching eyes to a hotel room with a white and gold color scheme. 

Starting from his now burning eyes, Angel’s body parts checked in one by one, each one with its own minor disaster to report. His throat felt like sandpaper, his head throbbed like someone was playing the drums on the inside of his skull, his stomach turned over at the mere thought of moving. In short, he had a bitch of a hangover. 

“Fuck…” Angel groaned, screwing up his face and sinking below the surface of the blankets. 

His brain was a fog, making every thought a lurking, malformed danger. He was going to be late to the studio. He’d look a mess, the cameras would pick it up. He couldn’t remember any lines. Valentino would be furious, he’d smell the debauchery on his skin and know he hadn’t caused it, he’d try to drown it out with worse just to prove to Angel that he was the only person allowed to ruin him. He was in so much fucking trouble…

Something brushed his leg under the covers. Angel’s first impulse was to pull away from whatever loser his spiral of self destruction had landed him with, get dressed and get out before he even saw his face, like having it in his memory would be just another reason for Val to hurt him. 

But then that something wound its way around his leg and suddenly Angel remembered. The two years collapsed and he saw the panic rising for what it was, a bad memory. Like the two dimensional backdrop on a soundstage, as soon as he knew where to step he was past it and back in the real world. 

Angel ignored his churning stomach and rolled over, so he could see him. Really the snoring should have been his first clue, no one else Angel had ever shared a bed with snored like that, rattling and rumbling like a clapped out Chevy whose exhaust was barely hanging on. He looked as hungover as Angel felt, whiskers crushed against the pillow, smudges of lipstick in a very familiar color streaked across his face, somehow still wearing his suspenders even though he definitely wasn’t wearing trousers. His tail still looped around Angel’s leg, reaching out for him even while the rest of him slept. 

Husker. Still the loser Angel’s spiral of self destruction landed him with but also the one who’d pulled him out. 

He had a fantasy of leaning in close, smoothing down that wild bedhead and waking him with a kiss. Reality kicked in, however, before he’d gotten more than two seconds in, reminding him about his apocalyptic hangover. 

He took a screeching turn towards the bathroom instead, hoping his legs would get their shit together quick enough to get him there without falling on his face. Despite being clean for two years now, Angel hadn’t lost his touch, he made it in time to vomit what felt like the whole bottom shelf of a bar into the toilet. At least that meant his eyes were shut so he didn’t have to look at the equally tacky bathroom. 

“Fucking hell…” Angel groaned, once his organs had stopped trying to eject themselves from his body, slumping so his forehead rested on the seat.

“Okay, you remember where you are, that’s a good sign.”

Angel opened one eye, scoffing at Husk as he leaned in the doorway, somehow already holding a glass of water for him, “Funny…how the fuck are you able to stand up, I seem to remember you drinking as much as I did?”

“Vegas born and raised, baby,” Husk chuckled roughly, passing him the glass, “I promise, I feel like a corpse, I just know how to keep a poker face..”

Angel washed his mouth out, trying to follow that memory like a thread, figure out what most of last night had involved. It had been a while since he got this drunk, since he’d had a morning after not tinged with the clawing, hollowed out feeling of a come down or a heavy dose of shame. He found it was actually pretty pleasant when the hazy, disjointed memories you sifted through were full of good times with people you cared about. 

If you could ignore the whole feeling like death warmed up thing. 

“I remember drinking a lot,” he rasped, draining the rest of the glass and gaining a little ground on his hangover as he reward, “I remember dancing on tables. I remember karaoke…and not a lot else.”

Husk perched on the edge of the tub, wincing as he did, “Same here. So it sounds like we did exactly what Charlie told us to do, we enjoyed our weekend off. Right up until we woke up, anyway.”

Angel massaged his temples with a couple of hands, “Where even are we? I mean, I know we’re in a hotel but this place ain’t our Charlie’s particular brand of tacky. There’s no banners for a start.”

“We’re on Sinners Strip,” Husk answered without missing a beat, looking around like a detective surveying a crime scene, “Somewhere on the west end by the looks of it…The Fanged Flamingo, I think. You’d have to be fucking blackout drunk to wind up here.”

It was hard not to be impressed. Sinners weren’t allowed to hop from ring to ring, of course, but they brought their vices down to Hell with them, clinging to them like life rafts. The Pride ring they called home had ended up divided into neighborhoods, each an oversized shrine to whatever sin had bought their residents a ticket down below. Sinner’s Strip was the Greed ring in miniature and Las Vegas on crack so of course Husker knew every building along its length in intimate detail, enough to recognise what casino they were in through a blinding hangover. 

In fact, his territory had probably been here, back when he was an Overlord. 

Angel winced, feeling like an idiot as he realized too late that they’d woken up in Husk’s equivalent of Valentino’s studio, “Do you wanna go home? I can get my shit together real fast?”

Husk’s expression softened just at the asking, tapping his claws on the tub’s edge as he thought, “You know…I think I’m okay. Don’t get me wrong, I know there’s tables down there, I can hear them. I’d be lying if I said no part of me wants to go do something real stupid…but then the rest of me says well, if I did, I wouldn’t be here with my man, would I?”

“So instead you’re gonna do stupid things with me?” Angel tried to joke lightly, like that would hide how misty his eyes suddenly were. 

“That’s the plan,” Husk leaned in and kissed his forehead, grinning, “Sap.”

Once Angel Dust would have pulled him down, turned that soft gesture into something heated, something open mouthed and involving teeth. He would have been panicked by the adoring ache in his chest, he would have felt foolish that he couldn’t form it into words and instead turned it into the only language he knew how to speak back then, pushing himself at Husk and begging him to take his body as payment. 

But now he knew better. This wasn’t lust, it was love. And love could be something small and not mean any less. It would fit in any box, gentle gestures and few words. 

“I just love you,” Angel Dust grinned, “That’s all.”

“And I love you too,” Husk smiled, “So take as long as you want. Then we’ll go scrape the girls up, wherever they are, and hit this diner I remember a couple blocks from here. About a thirty percent chance of getting food poisoning but their breakfast sandwiches will have your hangover begging for mercy.”

“I like those odds,” Angel let himself be pulled up, just about managing not to barf again. 

For a moment, with his hands- all four- in Husk’s, standing there in the bathroom with his head spinning, Angel had a flash of a memory. He remembered spinning, lights blurring around them, Husk dipping him and kissing him in that way that drove him wild. He remembered joy bursting in his chest, that kind that was so strong it actually hurt, like his body was struggling to find room for it all. 

Whatever they’d been doing last night, it had been really fucking good. Angel had to smile, his mouth tasted faintly of vomit, his hair was a mess, his head still contained an amateur percussion band that needed a hell of a lot more practice but this morning after still cracked the top ten. 

The room might have been tacky but the bed was soft enough, especially when Angel Dust rolled to pillow his head on Husk’s chest, grinning when he felt him purr and a paw come up to stroke idly down his spine. A hand went searching for his phone, finally snagging it amongst the blankets, along with his panties from the night before, a lipstick that wasn’t even the shade he was wearing and a crumpled piece of paper he ignored. If it was a receipt, he didn’t want to know how much money he’d blown on the food he’d just hurled up.

Angel flicked the screen to life, reassured by a recent text from Charlie that looked like it was trying to say goodnight and that they were in a room on the floor below, once he read around the drunken spelling mistakes and emojis, “Come on then, detective, let’s investigate. What the fuck happened last night…”

Husk made a vague noise, already one foot back in sleep, his purrs starting to blur into snores. Angel rolled his eyes fondly, starting to thumb through the fuckton of unfamiliar photos that had appeared on his phone since yesterday. 

Things started how he remembered, how they usually did. Charlie gave them nights off pretty regularly but it was rare for her and Vaggie to join in. Angel had been wheedling and wearing Charlie down for months, insisting that it wasn’t a real bonding experience until everyone tagged along, that she worked as hard as anyone and deserved a break too. At first he’d been doing it because he’d suspected- and been proven correct- that she’d make a hilarious drunk. But eventually he had to admit it to himself, he just wanted to see her relax once in a while. He saw her literally taking the weight of other people’s souls on her shoulders, putting every sinner in hell ahead of herself. Angel knew he’d never be able to fix everything for her but a margarita and some karaoke every so often could at least take the edge off.

So for the first time, Charlie and Vaggie were there in his photos. They’d started at the Broken Halo, one of the safer nightclubs not too deep into the Debauchery District. Angel smiled as he saw their night in stages, watched him and his friends dissolve into sloppy grins and flushed cheeks. There was Cherri laughing at Charlie’s expression of post-shot disgust and panic, a photo of himself taking full advantage of the pole the bar had, nailing it even though Husk’s thumb was taking up a corner of the screen, a photo of Nifty crawling on the ceiling and somehow not spilling her drink.

As he kept going, the photos lined up with his hazy patchwork of memories, gaps getting filled as pieces of the puzzle slotted into place. Angel could remember the walks in between clubs, cold night air but a pleasant buzz to keep him warm, laughing so hard his ribs ached. And always, Husk’s claws curled around his fingers or his wings stretching out to cover him when he noticed him shivering, grinning when Angel caught him tapping his foot to the music. He could remember sinking gratefully into a blissful, loose limbed oblivion, not because it was his temporary escape but because he felt completely and wholly safe. Husk was his anchor, Husk would look after him. Husk was his way home, a home he actually wanted to go to.

One thing wasn’t adding up though, a tangle as he strung thread between these memories. With the clubs these photos seemed to be taken in- and Angel prided himself on intimate knowledge of every place in the Pride ring that would serve him a drink- they’d stuck to the fringes of the district, in spitting distance of the hotel. The garish hotel they were currently coming back to life in wasn’t even in the same district, they’d gone out of their way to come here and wince at tacky gold accent pieces. Angel just couldn’t figure out why, he didn’t see what had brought them over to the Fanged Flamingo. 

Until he flicked to the next photo. 

Angel sat bolt upright, eyes wide. His stomach would have protested if it was still there, it seemed to have dropped a few rings down. Husk did though, giving a grumpy trill as the spider demon jerked out of his embrace. 

“You gonna barf again?” he mumbled, eyes still closed, “Just stick your head over the side.”

“No,” Angel Dust groaned, though he couldn’t be a hundred percent certain on that, “Husk, we did something really, really stupid last night.”

“What else is new?” he did drag himself upright and force his eyes open, hearing something in Angel’s voice that spoke of more than just a mile long bar tab or joyriding. 

It took him a moment of wincing and groaning to be able to look at the bright phone screen suddenly pressed into his hand, though once Husk realized what he was looking at, his eyes widened, “Oh…oh shit…”

The photo was clear and properly lined up, so it must have been taken by Vaggie who’d stayed relatively sober the whole night. Angel and Husk certainly weren’t, their eyes were glazed, their smiles bright and faces creased with an unrestrained delight that only came when alcohol had dissolved the walls you were used to putting up. Angel was being carried the cat demon’s arms, in serious danger of being dropped but he clearly couldn’t give less of a shit, two of his arms wrapped loosely around Husk’s neck. And the other two holding a handful of limp flowers, probably purchased from a gas station they’d stumbled across, and a piece of paper. Fuck knew where he’d gotten the length of lace he was wearing as a veil (or the one knotted around his thigh), Cherri had probably swiped it from someone’s washing line. Husk was already dressed pretty appropriately, with his hat and bow tie, his smile so wide he looked like he belonged in Wonderland. 

Between that, the shower of ripped paper frozen in the air and the blaring neon sign that said ‘chapel’ behind them, it didn’t take someone who wasn’t hungover to work out what happened. 

Angel found it again, the piece of paper he’d tossed aside and thought nothing of. He smoothed out the folds and creases, unsurprised to find a certificate apparently from the Fanged Flamingo 24-7 Wedding Chapel, registered trademark. It didn’t look legally binding, Angel wasn’t sure legal documents used bright pink font or had a crude logo featuring two flamingos going at it. But the rubber stamp across the top said otherwise, proclaiming the two signatures across the bottom legally married. 

His heart gave a reflexive ache at the sight of his signature, making him think of the last time he’d scrawled Anthony on the dotted line, all the misery it had brought him since. This should have felt the same, a reckless decision he’d made when he wasn’t in his right mind, he should feel that familiar acrid burn of regret. 

But he didn’t. Angel looked at his name, at Husks, his own handwriting swooping and flamboyant, Husk’s scrawling and hurried, he looked at this silly, kitschy souvenir certificate and the promise it meant. And all he felt was that memory of joy, except this time he saw where it was supposed to fit and it joined him in the present. He remembered the kiss, how they’d had their first dance on the chapel steps to music that only they could hear, how Husk had swept him up into his arms just as Cherri had thrown a handful of torn up flashpaper as makeshift confetti, that moment now frozen on his phone. 

Angel Dust just felt like he’d come home. 

But a low, guttural moan from Husk poured cold water on his awed smile, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Angel bit his lip, realizing the cat demon had his face in his hands and shoulders hunched. Where he’d been delighted, Husk looked absolutely devastated. 

Trying not to sound like a black hole was opening up in his chest, Angel tried an airy laugh, “Hey, baby, it’s okay…”

“No,” Husk pinched the bridge of his nose, ears lying flat, “It isn’t, shit…fucking cheap whiskey, always turns me into a goddamn fool.”

Angel swept a hand over his hair, using his years of experience in painting over his emotions and acting like he didn’t care, “Don’t get your tail in a twist, Whiskers, I’m sure we can walk it back. Pretty much everyone who gets hitched there has got to be blotto, they’ll have an impaired judgment clause or some shit. I ain’t gonna slap a ball and chain on you…I mean it’s ridiculous. The idea of me being someone’s missus, what a joke, right? I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Wait…” Husk’s head snapped towards him, bloodshot eyes wide, “You think I don’t wanna be married to you?”

“Well…you haven’t seemed so ecstatic since you found out…” Angel said warily, pulling his knees to his chest, “It’s fine, I get it. I’m not marriage material.”

One of the good things about having a boyfriend with ears and a tail was how Husk’s emotions were impossible to hide. Angel was good at reading people, it was part of his job and part of how he’d stayed alive in Hell, people’s faces were like books to him. And Husk was a picture book with those thick cardboard pages and twenty point font, as his ears shot up and his tail dropped in dismay. 

“I am the biggest idiot in the fucking seven rings,” Husk rasped, realisation stark on his face, the expression of someone who’d just realised they were about to drive off a cliff.

Angel couldn’t help a giggle, lifting an eyebrow, “Okay…I mean, I love you anyway…”

“I love you too,” Husk took a deep breath, like he was preparing for that plunge, finding as many of Angel’s hands as he could gather up in his own, “And, fuck, if we were human, if we were back up on the surface, I’d have been down on one knee the second I realised you’d actually have an old hag like me. I’m only…I’m only mad at myself because I didn’t want it to happen like this…”

Angel felt suddenly breathless, “You mean you’d thought about this before? About marrying me?”

It was hard to see under the dark fur but Angel was sure Husk’s cheeks were burning red, squeezing his hands, “Fuck, baby, of course I have. And you deserve a hell of a lot better than a goddamn Vegas wedding where I probably didn’t even propose right or say half the shit I’d wanna say. It just…it just ain’t gentlemanly.”

Angel felt laughter bubble in his chest, swallowing it down hard. It was all just so damn cute, he forgot sometimes that while he was from an earlier time, Husk had spent longer in the past, that he was more of an old fashioned romantic than he’d ever admit. 

“You don’t get treated right by so many assholes, Angel, and I can’t do a damn thing about it, I just…I always dreamed about doing this differently for you.” 

Angel Dust swallowed hard, feeling that ache again, trying to find a place to put the love he didn’t know he’d been built for. He drew Husk gently down, until they were lying nose to nose, limbs tangled comfortably together, finding a way to fit. 

“Well then,” Angel murmured, burying his fingers in soft fur, setting them to stroke delicate feathers, “Ask me.”

Husk finally met his eyes, uncharacteristically shy, “What?”

“Ask me the way you wanted to, say all the things you wanted to say. I’ll give you my answer here and now, Husker, and you’ll know I mean it,” Angel could feel how hard the cat demon’s heart began to beat, his own picking up to match. 

Husk opened and closed his mouth, the words struggling to come at first. Angel Dust understood how he felt, the fear that came with getting something you never even thought to want because it always seemed so out of reach.

But his Husker was braver than even he knew, his voice coming soft and raspy, “Anthony. After I died, I thought I’d finally found a way to be more than the loser nobody I was when I was alive, everything that made me a shitty human suddenly gave me the power and success I thought I’d always wanted. When I lost it all and had to sell my soul, the only way to keep my sanity was to tell myself I didn’t give a fuck anymore and just drink until I believed it. When I met you…I was fucking terrified. Because I wanted you. I wanted you bad, you were bright and brave and so damn strong. I never expected you to let me in but you did and I fell so hard for you, baby. You’re the first thing in hell, fuck, the first thing ever that made me want to be better. After the shit you’ve been through, I have no clue how you trust me when I say I love you and I’ll do right by you but I’ll never break that trust. And to prove it to you…will you marry me, Anthony?”

“Shit…well how the fuck am I supposed to follow that act?” Angel Dust managed to croak out after a long pause, all of his eyes streaming tears, “Feel like my teeth are gonna melt from all that sugar…”

“Shut up,” Husk’s smile was sudden and warm and brilliant, like the sun Angel remembered from up on the surface, tears making silvery tracks on his cheeks, “Just answer me.”

Feeling like words might not be enough, Angel cupped Husk’s face and kissed him deeply, left with barely any breath to whisper, “Yes. Fuck yes. I’m so glad we did it last night cos I wouldn’t want to wait another goddamn second to be your husband.”

“God, I love you…” Husk kissed him again, pressing him close like he couldn’t bear a spare inch of space between them, purring like a chainsaw. 

“I love you too,” Angel sighed contentedly, “Can’t believe I had to die to find the man of my dreams.”

“Even though our wedding was kinda trashy?”

“Oh, sorry, did you not know we were trashy? Hi, my name is Angel Dust, nice to meet you, can I suck your dick?”

He would have been happy to let the words fall away then, to say the rest with their shared laughter, with his tongue and his hands and whatever other parts they had time for. The way Husk was stirring under the blankets, he seemed to agree but there was one thing he wanted to do first. 

Angel found his phone again, flicking through the photos again, unable to resist another look. There were more past the first one too, shots of them dancing, of Husk dipping him in a deep kiss, of Angel throwing his gas station bouquet directly at Vaggie’s head in one of his less subtle moves. Photos of them, of their family, of one of the best nights of their lives. And, as he kept scrolling, ones showing how their hotel room had gotten so wrecked. 

“Woah,” Angel Dust grinned, “You’re definitely stuck with me, baby, annulments off the table for sure. We consummated the fuck out of this marriage.”

“Damn,” Husk purred, kissing his shoulder, “Didn’t know I could still bend that way…”

“And you will again,” Angel smirked, finally opening the camera, “In a minute…”

He held out the phone, pulling Husk into frame, smiling for the camera and smiling even wider when Husk kiss his cheek as he took the photo. As soon as he dropped it into the hotel group chat, along with the message good morning from the happy couple <3 he received a buzz of delighted messages from their friends, all thankfully alive. He’d save them all alongside the photos to look at again and again, over the breakfast they’d all share once they’d dragged themselves out of bed, the next time he had to go back to work and needed to lift his mood, whenever his addictions reared their ugly head. Whenever he needed to remember the best day of his his afterlife. 

There was a lot to dislike about living in literal fucking hell, tacky hotel rooms being one of them. But there was nowhere else Angel Dust would rather be.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Baby Let the Games Begin

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 3

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

5.1k words

Warnings: Language, drinking, almost-nice moments ruined by Roy being Roy

Roy slouched in his chair and looked over the lineup, trying to focus his attention on Nate and Beard’s ideas after the previous night’s match. His mind kept wandering back to the club, to the lipstick stain he’d washed off his face when he got home way past his bedtime, to the way she’d danced too close to him, to the knowing looks the guys had been giving him all morning.

As his hand absently brushed over his cheek, Dani’s smile filled the doorway. Behind him, a few guys popped their heads in, looking far too eager for an early morning that followed a late night of drinking. “Good morning, Coach!” Dani chirped.

“Hmmph.” Roy nodded in acknowledgement. “Rojas.”

The striker strolled into the office casually, as if mischief wasn’t written all over his face as he eyed his coach. “Did you have a good time last night?”

Roy shrugged. “Fuckin’ guess,” he mumbled, slouching further into his chair. “You?”

“Everyone had a great time.” Dani’s smile grew as he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “In fact, someone had such a great time, she asked if I could give you this.”

The little slip of paper contained numbers- numbers that were already in Roy’s phone, actually. It took Roy a moment to comprehend the looks of awe on his players’ faces and the excitement on Dani’s. Oh, fuck, right.

“Wow.” Roy lifted his eyebrows, giving his best surprised look. “Me? You’re fucking serious?”

Dani’s face softened. “She liked you,” he teased. “It was very obvious. She could not stop smiling after you danced together!”

Roy nodded, praying he looked thrilled enough to satisfy the guys. “Yeah, no, it was fucking cool.” He cleared his throat and stuffed the phone number into a desk drawer. “Guess I’ll give her a call or some shit-”

“Morning, fellas!”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Keeley squeeze past the guys to enter the office, wearing a little dress and that big smile of hers, the one that could knock Roy over any day of the week.

“Don’t you lot have training to get ready for?” she teased. As the guys left, all shouting out their congratulations at Roy- as if he did something worth congratulating- she turned her attention to the gruff manager. “Can we chat when you have a second?”

Roy nodded stupidly. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He nodded to Dani, who was the last to leave. “Thanks again, Rojas. Really.”

Once Dani shot Roy an exaggerated wink and strolled back into the changing room, Keeley whipped out her mobile. “Excellent job last night, Coach.”

She perched on the desk and showed Roy her screen, which featured a photo of Roy and a certain pop princess on the dance floor, huddled close and smiling at each other. If Roy didn’t know any better, he’d think they looked like two people in the early stages of falling in love.

With a small cough into his closed fist, Roy nodded. “Yeah, well. Glad we did a good job or whatever.”

Keeley stuffed her mobile back into her pocket. “Seriously, you two look great together. I was scrolling through some of the comments, and her fans are already obsessing over you. They’ll be calling you ‘Dad’ by the end of the month.”

“Dad?” he repeated, practically spitting the word out. “Why the fuck would they call me Dad?”

“It’s a term of endearment,” Keeley explained with a playful eyeroll. “Sometimes they call her ‘Mum’, and if they like her boyfriend, they call him ‘Dad’. Trust me, you want them to call you that. It means you’ve got their approval. And once you’ve got the fans onboard, the good press will follow.” She gave Roy a friendly little punch, the small touch leaving his skin burning. “Keep up the good work, Roy-o.”

As he watched her leave, Roy sighed to himself. Dad? What the fuck had he signed himself up for?

~

“D’you want a beer?”

“Sure.” I handed April my credit card. “And bring me a hot dog or something?”

I had dragged April along to my second Richmond game, insisting that I needed someone to chat with while I was supposed to be fawning over Roy Kent. As I waited for her to return with the drinks and snacks, I tugged at the sleeves of the Richmond sweatshirt April had bought for me. This whole thing was weird, so damn weird. My siblings had texted me about the photos of me and Roy Kent at the club- which they had seen thanks to my baby brother’s Google alert on me- and had teased me about my sudden “interest” in soccer. Of course, I’d played coy and said I was just supporting Dani Rojas, that Kent and I had just danced a little, and that he seemed nice. Of course, they didn’t see the way I wrinkled my nose as I texted those things.

Suddenly missing them, I sent a selfie with the pitch behind me, joking that the Dog Track was my new home. As I hit the Send button on our group chat, rousing cheers informed me that the team was coming onto the pitch. I cheered along with everyone else, this time adding some other names to Dani’s, like Colin and Isaac. Jamie Tartt lit up when he saw me, blowing a playful kiss. I waved coolly, keeping an eye out for-

There was that smirk. Roy raised his eyebrows when he saw me, looking pleasantly surprised despite the fact that Keeley had made sure to tell him exactly where I’d be sitting. I leaned back in my seat and raised my hand in greeting, hoping my smile and wink were playful and, more importantly, caught on someone’s camera. Roy tapped two fingers to his temple, saluting me, before turning to his team. I had to give him credit for his acting; from my seat, he almost looked like he was blushing.

“You see your man?” April’s voice was full of teasing as she resumed her seat and handed me a beer.

I rolled my eyes and took a sip before taking the hot dog she offered me. “My man,” I scoffed. “He’s not my man.”

April raised her eyebrows at me. “Not yet,” she hummed quietly. She nudged me. “You two’ve got chemistry. Even at a distance, there was some sort of spark or lightning strike or whatever you want to call it when you looked at each other.” She leaned in close to whisper, “You sure there’s not a real attraction there?”

“Do I need a new assistant?” I hissed, narrowing my eyes at her. She knew I didn’t mean it; it was my way of telling her she had succeeded in getting under my skin, one of her favorite pastimes.

Sure enough, she chuckled and nudged me playfully. “I’m just saying,” she teased. “Believe me, you could do a lot worse.”

I snorted and stole one more glance at the scowling and shouting Roy Kent. “Wanna bet?”

~

Roy tapped the side of his beer as he stared at the entrance to Ola’s. The team had decided to grab some dinner together after their match, and Dani had invited his friend to join them. The guys were tittering and shooting him what he assumed were supposed to be sly looks, which he repaid with scowls and eyerolls.

Those sly looks only got worse when the door opened and Dani led two women inside. Roy watched as the Greyhounds tripped over each other to re-introduce themselves and ask how the women liked the match. She was pretty fucking affable, Roy noted as she complimented Cockburn on his game-winning goal and laughed at whatever joke Moe Bumbercatch made. He found himself wondering how someone like her, someone who smiled so easily and seemed to have no problem charming a room full of people, could wind up with a reputation like hers, known only for the men she ran around with and the drama her “friends” dragged her into.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted Roy in his huddled little corner, almost bright enough to fool him into believing she was happy to see him. She grabbed the other woman- who Roy now recognized has her personal assistant- by the hand and pulled her away from the Greyhounds, not stopping until she stood in front of Roy, all flirtation with those batting eyelashes and that coy smile.

“Great job today, Coach,” she said with a wink.

Roy leaned back, keenly aware of the eyes that had followed her to his table. “Guess I was right about you being good luck,” he hummed with what he hoped was a flirtatious grin. “Glad you came today.”

“Me too.” She tugged the other woman closer to her. “This is my assistant, April,” she introduced, as if Roy hadn’t met the woman in Keeley’s office that very first day. “April,” she murmured, eyes still on Roy, “this is Roy Kent.”

April smiled and reached out to shake Roy’s hand. “Lovely to meet you.” Her smile turned mischievous. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

A small giggle had Roy’s ears turning red. “Stop,” the popstar whined, sounding like a teenage girl. “Go find a soccer player to flirt with, alright?” She gave April a playful shove before sliding into the seat beside Roy. Her smile remained in place as she leaned in close, looking like she was flirting and murmuring soft enough for just him to hear. “You see the photos of us online?”

Roy cleared his throat and nodded, unable to look directly at her and instead choosing to stare at his beer. “Yeah. Yeah, I saw them.” He took a sip, desperate for something to keep him distracted from how fucking close she was sitting. “Looks like the plan’s working so far.”

Her little hmmph confirmed that she agreed with him. After a moment, she nudged him; Roy’s shoulder practically burned at the contact. “You should probably, I don’t fucking know, talk to me or something?” She raised her eyebrows. “We’re supposed to be into each other, remember?”

With one of his heaving sighs, Roy forced his shoulders to relax as he finally met her gaze, a gaze that was far too attentive. “You… enjoy the game?”

Fucking hell. Was this what the next six months of his life would be like? Awkward small talk with someone who was just as disinterested in him as he was in her? Being two fish in a bowl with eyes on them all the time? Tonight, at Ola’s, it was the Greyhounds; soon it would be all of Nelson Road, and all their friends and acquaintances, and the fucking paparazzi, and all the people who’d be attending her highly anticipated European tour in the summer. Not to mention the very real possibility that one of them could find someone they were actually interested in (Roy had seen the way Jamie eyed her when she walked in), and then they’d be in a whole new mess of ending the “relationship” and dealing with blurry timelines and drama.

While Roy’s mind raced, she nodded, all at ease. “I did, actually, even though I don’t watch soccer very much.” After wrinkling her nose, she paused, eyeing him carefully, as if debating her next words. “Think I could take a picture with you?”

“I’m sorry?” Roy choked out, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden request.

“A picture,” she repeated slowly, a smidge of impatience dripping from her voice. “Like a selfie. I might not like soccer, but my brothers and nephews are big fans.” She took out her phone and laid it on the table. “And I learned recently that you, Roy Kent, are a pretty big fucking deal. So, if I send them a picture with you, I’ll finally be the world’s coolest sister and tía.”

Roy couldn’t help the snort that flew out of his nose. “Being one of the biggest popstars in the fucking world isn’t enough?”

She cracked a small smile. “Nope. To my brothers, I’m still just the little princess who always cried to get what she wanted.” She picked her phone back up. “So, are we taking a selfie, or do I need to get the waterworks going?”

That was… well, that was kind of funny, Roy decided. Funny enough that he didn’t argue with her, at least. Instead, he shrugged and leaned in close, reminding himself that he was supposed to look like he was interested in this woman, after all. “Take the fucking picture then,” he grumbled, mostly good-naturedly.

Almost as if she understood that this was as friendly a response as Roy Kent could give, she opened her camera. Roy was amused at the image on the screen; she had a nice smile, he admitted to himself. It was the same one he saw on album covers, the same one she offered the Greyhounds, the same one she flashed the paparazzi. Just cheesy enough to be endearing, while still holding something glamorous. Looking at the image of that smile, Roy didn’t have much choice but to give his own closed grin, coming out cool and cocky-looking, the way one would expect a retired athlete to smile with a beautiful popstar.

She quickly snapped a couple of pictures before lowering her phone, chuckling as she sent one to what Roy assumed was a family group chat. “Thanks,” she murmured, giving Roy a nod. “Like I said, they’re finally almost impressed with me.”

The gears in Roy’s head turned for a moment. “Could you send me that?” he heard himself ask. When she tilted her head at him, he cleared his throat. “My niece, she’s… a fan. And if I show her that picture, she’s going to absolutely lose her shit.”

“Anything to make a kid lose their shit.” She quickly tapped away on her mobile; Roy’s own phone buzzed a moment later. “She your only niece?” When Roy only stared at her blankly, she shrugged. “Might as well learn some shit about each other, if we’re going to be dating.”

“Right,” Roy breathed, again noting how fucking close she was sitting. “Yeah, she’s my only niece. It’s just me, my sister, and her.” After a moment, he realized she was waiting for him to ask her a question. “And you’ve got… brothers?”

She nodded, relaxing into her seat, shoulder grazing Roy’s arm. “Four brothers and a sister,” she added. “I’ve got one younger brother, everyone else is older. And I’ve got…” She counted on her fingers for a moment. “Eight nieces and nephews. My oldest niece just turned fifteen this year. We’re having her quinceañera this summer.”

“That’s the big fucking party, right? I remember Dani going back to Mexico for his cousin’s birthday, it looked like a fucking wedding.”

Her raised eyebrows looked almost impressed. “Yeah. I’m pretty excited to go home for it.” She paused, thoughtfulness crossing her face. “We’ll probably still be together,” she murmured. Her eyes were unreadable.

“Keeley’ll probably make me go then,” Roy grumbled. “Fucking hate flying all the way to the States.”

“And we’ll have to go to all the way to Los Angeles,” she added with a dry chuckle. “Eleven hours stuck on a plane together, there and back. Can you imagine anything worse?”

Roy’s eyes flittered across the restaurant to Keeley, who sat cozily with Rebecca, giggling and chattering. His chest ached, reminding him that, if Keeley asked, he’d spend twenty-four hours on a plane with this woman, no hesitation. He’d do fucking anything for Keeley.

With a sigh, he shook his head. “No,” he agreed. “I fucking can’t.”

~

“Crown and Anchor,” I mumbled to myself as I read the sign over the pub Roy had suggested we meet at. Keeley has urged us to go ahead with our first “public outing”; she’d left it up to us, but suggested something low-key enough to look real, as if we weren’t trying to catch people’s attention. After I offered to let him pick the spot, Roy had texted me the address of some pub not too far from the stadium; apparently, he’d be coming straight from work.

Sure enough, when I found him at the bar, he was wearing what I assumed was his ‘coaching uniform’: Greyhounds shirt, track pants that hugged his thighs, and sneakers. He nodded when he saw me, hand wrapped around the beer he was already half finished with.

Ignoring the stares of a small group seated at a table behind Roy, I leaned into Roy, relieved that he immediately wrapped me in a one-armed hug- a casual, friendly gesture, perfect for two people just starting a romance. He took my arm to help me onto the stool beside him and gestured to the barkeep, an older woman who eyed me carefully.

“You’re-” She stopped, raising her eyebrows at Roy. “Good for you, Roy Kent.” She leaned on the counter, offering a friendly smile. “What can I get you, love?”

I eyed Roy’s half-finished drink. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

With a smile, the barkeep quickly poured me my own beer and placed it in front of me. Roy absently tapped his glass to mine with a small clink! before taking a long drink.

“Tough day of training?” I teased before sipping my own glass; shit, would I ever get used to drinking beer that wasn’t ice-cold?

He shrugged, eyes focused on the amber liquid in his glass. “Long is more like it,” he grumbled. “Especially now that the idiots are smirking and winking at me all the time, giving me looks like they fucking know something.” Roy narrowed his eyes at me, almost playfully. “It’s all your fault, you know.”

“My apologies,” I huffed, trying not to laugh at his stony expression. My eyes landed on the darts on one end of the bar; Roy’s gaze followed.

“Want to play?” he asked, chugging the last of his beer and motioning for the barkeep to pour him another one. “Keeley said shit like playing games looks cute in photos.”

The word cute did not seem like one that should be coming out of Roy Kent’s mouth, but I ignored how humorous it sounded. “I don’t know how to play,” I admitted. “We used to have a dart board when I was a kid, but after my brother got hit in the arm, my mom made my dad take it down.”

Roy stared at me for a moment, studying me. “I could teach you.” He shrugged. “If you like.”

I glanced at the dart board. “Why the fuck not?”

With a hmmph, Roy grabbed our beers and led me over to the game, setting our drinks on a nearby table before grabbing the darts. He handed me one, careful not to let our fingers brush. “Go on,” he said, nodding to the dart board. “Want to see what I’m fucking working with.”

I stared at the dart in my hand, wincing at the embarrassment I was about to endure and preparing myself for the expletives and mockery that would surely come out of Roy Kent’s mouth. Finally, trying to reach back over twenty years in my memory to the last time I had thrown a dart, I reached back and gave what I hoped was an acceptable toss; I groaned when I saw the dart bounce off the wall far from the target and fall pathetically to the ground.

Roy retrieved the dart wordlessly and returned, mouth in a straight line as he stared at me harshly. “You’re the one that fucking hit your brother, aren’t you?”

Setting my face as expressionless as his, I folded my arms. “No comment.”

A smirk almost broke through. “Your publicist has you well-trained,” he quipped as he handed me the dart. “Better show you how it’s done before you fucking kill someone.” His eyes zeroed in on the dart in my hand for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Here, stand like this.”

Roy stood next to me, motioning for me to adjust my feet. After I mirrored his stance, he turned to stand behind me, hesitating before taking my hand, the one I held the dart in. When I turned my face to his, he was gazing at me with raised eyebrows.

“This alright?” he whispered.

I nodded, holding back the urge to gulp. “Anything for the cameras,” I joked, forcing my body to relax against his. “Get ready to trend on Twitter, Kent.”

With a hmmph, Roy pressed his chest to my back, his body warm and weirdly comfortable, and lifted my hand. “And you pull back like this,” he breathed. “And…” He moved my arm in a swift motion. “… Release.”

The dart hit the board only about an inch away from the dead center.

“Holy shit!” I squeaked, pretending I didn’t see the young couple in the corner of the pub pointing their phones in our direction. “Roy!” I jumped into his arms, acting as though learning to throw a dart was some lifelong dream.

“What the fuck are you-”

“In the corner,” I hissed in his ear. “They’re recording us. Act cute.”

Grunting, Roy wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug that lifted me off my feet, keeping his hands on my hips once he set me down. “Think you could do it on your own now?” He furrowed his brows and lowered his voice. “Or should we do that again?”

I thought for a moment. “Probably one more time,” I said quietly. “For the camera.”

“For the camera,” Roy agreed, letting me go so he could grab another dart to hand to me. “Right, so stand like before…”

Once again, his chest felt warm pressed against me, his heartbeat thumping against my back. When he took my hand in his, I observed how large his hand looked around mine, realizing I’d be holding it a lot in the coming weeks. Just like before, Roy pulled my hand back and guided it, instructing me when to let go. This time, my dart landed dead center.

In spite of myself, I turned to Roy with a giant grin. “Fucking bullseye, Kent!”

He wore a crooked smirk and held up his hand for a high-five. “Not bad,” he hummed as I slapped his palm. “Ready to try it on your own?”

Playing darts with Roy Kent wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening, I conceded. We sipped beer and took turns throwing darts, with Roy giving me pointers now that I was throwing on my own; he even admitted that I was a quick learner. In between throws, we’d glance up at the television playing soccer highlights; Roy mumbled about the men running around on the screen, telling me a bit about the players he knew, the ones he tolerated and the ones he hated. I listened carefully, realizing that, if I was going to be “dating” a soccer legend, I should know a thing or two about the game. I should also try to start calling it “football”, I thought to myself.

“Alright,” I declared after posting a photo to my Instagram, per Keeley's instructions. “I’m going to the restroom, when I get back, we play to see who’s paying the tab.”

It was the closest thing I’d seen to a full smile all night. “You’re fucking on. And I’m ordering another pint, because you’re paying.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and waved as I headed towards the restrooms. Shit, I thought to myself. I’m actually enjoying myself.

As I washed my hands before returning to the bar, I tilted my head at my reflection. Tonight was kind of fun, I admitted. Maybe, just maybe, Roy Kent and I could actually be friends. Maybe these next few months of fake-dating didn’t have to be complete torture. Maybe we’d have a good time hanging out and spending time together. Maybe-

Despite all my grumblings about this plan, I grinned at Roy as I approached him at the dartboard, where he leaned against the wall and frowned at his phone. When he didn’t look up, I cleared my throat.

“Ready to lose?” I teased.

Finally, Roy looked up at me. “Hmm?” After a moment, he shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. “I should head home,” he grumbled, slamming his glass onto the table. “Got fucking training in the morning. Early morning training with fucking Tartt.”

I glanced at my watch. “It’s only sev-”

“I said I should head home,” he repeated, wrinkling his nose. “Already paid the tab.” Without another word, he placed his hand on my lower back and steered me out of the pub, pausing only to offer a half-hearted wave to the barkeep, who smiled warmly at us on our way out the door.

“What the fuck, Kent?” I hissed as we stood on the curb in front of a giant black car. “Did something happen? I thought-”

The man growled and fished a set of keys out of his pocket. “I’m fucking old,” he muttered. “I have a bedtime on worknights. Get used to it.” He nodded to the monstrous vehicle behind him. “D’you need a ride home?”

Resisting the urge to fold my arms across my chest defiantly, I shook my head. “I can walk,” I mumbled. “Or call a car if I get sick of walking.”

“Fine.”

It felt like hours as we stared at each other, Roy’s lips parted as if he were about to speak. Finally, I nodded curtly, trying to keep my own expression relaxed, as if the man hadn’t just done a complete 180 in the time it took me to use the restroom.

“I’m going to kiss your cheek,” I whispered as I took a tiny step towards him. “Since this was a date and all.”

“Fine,” he repeated, leaning towards me.

Just like at the club, my lips brushed against his warm cheek, his beard tickling my face. I flashed him my best smile, the one I usually saved for men I actually liked.

“Goodnight, Kent,” I managed, taking a step back.

He nodded brusquely, not quite meeting my eye. “Goodnight.”

With that, he climbed into his car and drove off, leaving me on the curb with a few questions and a long walk home.

~

Roy stared at his phone as he walked into the Dog Track, as if he thought that doing so would change the Tweet that had distracted him the night before. While waiting for his “date” to return from the loo, he’d scrolled aimlessly on the app, looking for anything interesting in football news. When he saw the post with two names he knew all too well, his stomach had dropped.

He and Jamie Tartt didn’t have any sort of agreement, per se. But they both seemed to respect each other’s feelings for Keeley ever since the night they showed up on her porch and were properly scolded. The three of them had formed a close friendship, one that seemed to center mostly around doting on Phoebe and avoiding any mentions of dating and romance. Sure, Roy knew that Keeley and Jamie hung out sometimes, just like Jamie knew Roy and Keeley did the same. But seeing it online, linked with the idea of the two getting back together, had Roy gritting his teeth as he entered the already chatty changing room.

Despite knowing this conversation was better suited for a pub with some beers than their place of work- where Roy was Jamie’s boss- Roy made his way over to Jamie, who looked up at the manager with something close to awkwardness on his pretty face.

“Mornin’, Coach,” Jamie hummed.

Roy had cancelled their training that morning; Jamie was smart enough to know why.

“You two back together?” Roy’s voice was low and even. It scared Jamie and the eavesdropping Greyounds more than any shouting and swearing would.

Jamie furrowed his brows and shook his head gingerly. “’Course not.” He nodded to Roy’s phone, its screen opened to a photo of the two exes sharing a dessert. “Just friends, Coach. She had some brand deal she thought I’d be interested in, I was hungry, so we grabbed a bite. I promise, I’d tell ya if anything was going to happen.” He paused, pouting a little. “Besides, you’ve moved on, haven’t ya? Saw some photos of you two playing darts and shit.”

Oh. Fuck. Roy shrugged, praying his face was relaxed. “We’re friends,” he mumbled. “Fucking getting to know each other. That’s all.”

“In that case-” Jamie’s bravado returned, reminding Roy of the arrogant prick he’d met when Jamie first came to Richmond. His eyes were bright with teasing, and he did that stupid tongue flick that made Roy want to puke. “Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Roy couldn’t help scoffing, telling himself it had everything to do with Jamie and nothing to do with the topic at hand. “Why the fuck d’you think she’d be interested in you?”

Tartt’s smirk widened as he winked at his obviously spying teammates. “She said it herself, didn’t she? That boyish look that I like in a man?” He gestured at his own face. “Beautiful and boyish, right here.”

Before Roy could even think, he bared his teeth at the striker, not aware of the way his fists were clenched at his sides. “Maybe she’s done with boys,” he all but spat. “Maybe she wants a real man.”

Jamie threw his hands up in surrender, eyes widening as he took in Roy’s reddening face. “Oi, Coach,” he chuckled, clearly trying to ease the tension. “I was just teasing. If you like the girl, just say so. You don’t have to go all caveman on me.”

All eyes in the changing room were on Roy, who took a step back; he hadn’t realized he was practically nose to nose with Tartt. He gave a little nod, not quite meeting the striker’s eye. “Right,” was all he could manage.

Satisfied that he had escaped another love triangle, Jamie gave Roy’s arm a friendly punch. “Now, next time you see her, could you ask about that assistant of hers? What was her name? May? April? She was fucking fit.”

Roy blinked at Jamie, barely registering what he’d just said. Instead, he sulked into his office, wondering where the fuck that little snap had come from. Probably still thinking about Jamie’s dinner with Keeley, he reasoned. That must be it. It had everything to do with Keeley and nothing to do with Jamie- or anyone else, for that matter.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas @eugene-emt-roe @littleesilvia @teenwolf01 @sisinever @yagotgames @queen-of-the-downtown-scene

[shhh-secret-time]

Next request actually comes from AO3! I gotta admit, I was really excited about this one!

Warning: Dom/Sub dynamic, Sub!Kyle, Dom!Reader, Strong Language, Praise Kink?, NSFW

Pairing: High Fae King Kyle x F!Reader

Notes: So you noticed the Fae in there did you? So my roommate and I have an small AU where Kyle isn't just king of the elves, he's King of the Summer Court as well! Soooome of the stuff I used has a little D&D logic behind it, but you have to squint to really see it!

Art by: Leoncio Harmr - De Profundis Clamavi

Heavy boots echoed through the halls of the castle; the ivory floor polished to perfection carried the sound until it made its way to your room. You were laying in your shared chambers lounging on the bed dressed in fine silks, now the book you were reading a distant thought. Not that you were able to pay attention to it anyway. The peaceful and serene sounds of the rain outside your window didn't help any, neither did the fact the book was so incredibly boring.

With a hum you moved the sheets off your body pulling the beautiful white material away. Pulling the forest green robe off the chair next to you and onto your form, you made your way to the door. You didn't need to really open the door to know whose footsteps those were.

Your sweet husband, your darling partner, your most precious one. Kyle Broflovski, better known as the High Fae King of the Summer Court to the elves and the other Fae citizens. When you opened the chamber doors you could immediately feel how tense he was from just the doorway. It was like a wave of heat brushing off him and you could feel it on your skin.

"My love." Kyle's voice sounds so winded, like he's out of breath the moment he saw you.

You smile as his eyes roam over your body admiring your form and like a switch that raging fire turned to a gentle breeze, by his legs maple leaves began to pick up and swirl around him. There were many titles your husband held, but High Druid was the one he was the most proud of, his command over the elements was nothing to take lightly.

"My heart." You respond as you hold yourself high, gliding across the castle floor with grace.

Kyle raises his hand, dismissing the guards who were ordered to escort him. Once you reach him, he holds his hands out to gently take yours. Despite how gentle he tried to be; you could feel how tense he was even past the gorgeous, embroidered gloves he wore.

"My apologies, did I wake you?"

"No, I was waiting for you to come to bed. But something tells me that you weren't planning on retiring to our chambers anytime soon."

"Hm... it would be foolish to try and hide anything from you."

"Now when did my husband become so wise?" You joked softly, cupping his face with your hands. Smiling as he seemed to melt into your touch, the much taller man leaning down to bask in the soft affection.

"Perhaps you're finally starting to rub off on me." He whispered, pressing a warm kiss into the palm of your hand. His lips finding the wedding band, the silver band that bound your souls together.

You couldn't help but let out a gentle laugh, even after all these years being married to him, he found a way to make you blush. The day he asked you to be his Queen, to shoulder the burdens of an entire realm, to help him lead and carry him when he could not walk. Your pride in him made it easy, he was a wonderful man and right now he looked as if he were about to buckle under the weight. And you knew just the cure.

"Then allow me to continue your lesson towards being a wise man." Your voice was like the silks you wore, a cool splash of water against his raging fire. Taking him by the hand again, you lead him to the double doors of your shared room. "Now, what troubles you, my heart."

Kyle took a deep breath, his brows knitted together frustration written on his face. You knew that look all too well he was conflicted about you telling you how he felt but you'd be damned if you let that slide. All it took was a single look from you and for you to cross your arms under your chest, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He lets out the deep breath through his nose, the sound of his leather gloves creasing as flexes his fingers.

"I am not a child to be scrutinized."

"Did I say you were?" Perhaps you were playing with fire with that question, the way his jaw shift and his gaze darkens but if you feared fire, you would not be married to the man who embodied Summer itself.

"In fact, I believe I asked what troubles you. And correct me if I am wrong or if I step out of line my King, but you are in the presence of your wife? The very woman who swore an oath to the Kingdom and her people, and more importantly to help shoulder the burden of her husband." As you spoke, he watched you step towards him, each step felt like it was amplifying your words.

He felt the dynamic between the both of you shift, your body language speaking louder than the words spilling from your lips. Kyle looked down at you once more before closing his eyes. A silent request to take the reins and let him unburden himself. To let him just be. The very thought was enough to make his shoulders fall forward, giving you the non-verbal confirmation, you needed.

"It...is this war. It weights heavy on not only me but my men. Each battle we lose more, each fight chips away at their will. They look to me for answers, a solution to put this damned thing to rest! But I don't have the answers!" Kyle shouts as your hands cup his face once more, the wall he put up shattering at just a simple gesture. "I send my men to die over and over again, men who have families, men who I swore to protect! I'm not protecting them; I'm hiding behind them like a coward! I should be out there!"

As he continued you caressed his face, brushing the freckles that dusted his face under the pads of your thumb. The war between the Humans and Fae raged on longer than anyone thought it would, and now that the elves were involved it only added to the casualty count. It was no wonder your husband was coming to bed later and later, if at all. It was no wonder why there would be days you'd be lucky to even see him as he spent most of his time locked away in the council room. He was burning himself out, the High Druid of the Summer court fading away like dying embers.

"Hush... you are not a coward. Do not speak as if you do nothing. Our people see how hard you try."

"Do they? When I close my eyes all I can see are the faces of those I've lost. Of those that I let down." His voice cracks and so does your heart.

"The realm has already placed enough on your shoulders, do not place more on it. You don't need to carry this alone. I cannot tell you not to feel for those who have given their lives but do not take away their sacrifice by destroying yours. Worship the flame and tend to the ashes my sun." Your words, God your words were like coming up for air after being submerged under water for too long.

You call him your sun, but the light you shine on him fills him with a sense of belonging. Finally, his hands unclench from the tight fist he wasn't aware he had them in and find home on your hips. He pulls you into an embrace, one he hasn't had the luxury to have you in, in so long.

"My moon. My night sky."

"My sun. My light."

"Let me take some of that pain from you. Allow me to take care of you tonight. Will you let me?" You guide him towards the bed, sitting him down at the edge of the plush bed. You dip your head down stopping just inches from his lips, he feels your breath ghosting over his lips and suddenly his mouth goes all to dry. The smell of the wine you had earlier was just enough to make the tips of his pointed ears go red and his mind go fuzzy. "I need an answer my heart."

"Y... yes please." He knows better than to lean forward, to capture your lips in a searing kiss so he settles for a whisper.

"Then tonight you are not the High Druid of the elves, nor are you the King of the Summer Court. Behind this door and within these walls you are but my husband, a man with his heart to bare to me. Am I clear?"

Kyle could feel his face turning red at your command. What little willpower he had was used to not let his eyes flutter shut and immediately let himself melt. He responds with another shaky sigh. "Yes my Queen. I give you all I have and more."

"There's my good boy." Your voice fell to a hush as you finally, finally sealed your lips onto his.

Kyle felt your hands brushing into his hair, intertwining fingers through his curls. The feathery curls twist around your slender fingers parting as you began massaging his scalp. The golden branches that made up his crown fell back off his head and onto the bed behind him, but he couldn't care, not when your fingers felt so good. Each kiss lasting longer than the last, the sweet taste of grapes swirling between your tongues. It was only when you pulled away and giggled that he realized he let out a whimper.

"My~ you're whimpering from my kisses alone? I cannot wait to pull more of those delicious sounds from you." You purred in his ear and nipped at the sensitive flesh pulling a moan from him. "Remove your clothes for me~"

Such a simple demand, yet Kyle couldn't help the excitement as you finally gave him permission to rid himself of his clothes. His hands worked the complex material of his robes sliding it down his shoulders, the warmth from your bodies caressing the exposed skin. As he toed his boots off you stopped him by placing your hands on his shoulders, your finely done nails gently raking across his skin.

"Slowly now Kyle, we have all night." Your voice was like a leash making his body jerk to a stop.

Sliding his palms down his pants he looked up at you with such a pleading look begging you to do something. He needed to feel your skin on his, wanted you so carnally he was sure he was going to go mad. Each time your nails traced down his chest, his muscles would flex in response. Every little gesture had such an effect on him, yet he wouldn't dare ask you to stop.

"You're being very good for me tonight, I'm so very proud of you. You deserve your reward~" You whisper against his neck, trailing soft kisses down the skin.

You pulled your hands away to remove your own clothes, the silks pooling at your feet lying next to his. A small thrill rose up in you when Kyle's eyes widened, and his lips parted in awe. The beautiful corset that hugged your sides perfectly, digging into your skin in just a way that wasn't painful but made your body look so soft; the sunrise color pallet complimenting your eyes and hair.

"May I touch you, I need to feel you love." He asks because he knows better, knows better than to disappoint you, not when you've given him such a beautiful gift.

Smiling, you took his hands in yours guiding the calloused hands up to your hips. His thumbs pressing into the supple flesh, still in a trance. You weren't just his queen, you were a goddess, something to be worshipped. You could see it in his eyes, the pleading look evolved to desperation, and you knew he couldn't take much more.

"So pretty for me, my husband. My lover." Each praise was separated by a kiss as you pushed against his chest laying him back against the bed.

Your hands made quick work of his pants and the material that held his hardened cock, once freed from his constraints it bobbed and pressed against his stomach. Milky white pearls of pre-cum already leaking out of the red angry tip, leaking when you crawled over; him thighs parted enough to straddle his lap. He sucked in a breath, hitching in his throat when you took his hardened member in your hands.

Kyle threw his head back feeling your soft hands pull up against the sensitive flesh, tugging and smearing his cock with his own arousal. He didn't bother to muffle the moans you pulled from his throat, deep sounds filling your chambers. You smiled softly at how beautiful he looked under you. His face was flushed a deep red, making the freckles on his face pop, twisted in pleasure as you continued to work his shaft.

"O-Oak Father preserve me, my love please! I-I can't take much more!" He begs for a god as his cock twitches in your hands, his breathing picks up turning to erratic pants. Kyle could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the knot in his stomach began to pull taught.

"Not yet."

"M-my moon please I-"

"I said not yet" You lowered your face down towards his, pressing another kiss against his throat. Just as your hand squeezed the base of his cock your teeth sunk into his pale flesh. Sucking the patch of skin, you had to stop yourself from laughing when he bucked his hips against your hand and cried out. When you pulled away from the bruised love mark with a pop Kyle was sure he was seeing stars, making his eyes roll up to the back of his head.

You continued your assault down his chest, printing your teeth marks all over his skin, mapping it out with your tongue and the faded paint of your lipstick. From the corner of your eye, you watched his hand fist the sheets beneath him, nails digging into the mattress. With a playful purr you pulled up to admire your work, your husband looked like a piece of art. Painted so pretty beneath you.

"Keep your eyes on me. If you close them, I will stop." Your voice broke him from his daze, the fear that you would stop when he was so, so close snapped him to attention.

Gently you positioned yourself above his throbbing cock, lowering yourself down slowly taking him inch by inch. Even now as he slowly began to fill you up, you gaze down at him with such a passionate gaze; watching his chest heave up and down. Kyle's own eyes were blown out from lust, the orbs that usually held such peace and balance now glued to yours. And when you smiled down at him, his mind just went blank. Nothing else outside of these walls mattered but you.

"Oh~ you fill me so well Kyle." You finally let out a moan as you fully slid down his cock, your cunt wrapping around him. "Go ahead, touch me. Take what you need."

Finally. Fucking finally. His hands fly to your thighs to squeeze them, fingers sinking into the warm skin. His thrusts start out slow, dragging the length of his member in and out of you as if he was trying to memorize the feeling of your walls. Kyle pulled himself out of you until only the tip of his member remained around your hole and then slowly, he lowered you back down along his shaft. He needed more, had to have more. Sweat beginning to build up between the both of you, little beads of sweat tracing the outlines of your forms. Your own arousal making it easier for him to fuck up into you, the little thrusts turning into his arms wrapped around your waist trapping you against his chest.

Still, he doesn't break eye contact with you especially not when your hands grip his jaw and force his face up. The room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping against each other and both of your moans intertwined with one another. When your walls flutter and tighten around him he knows your close, he knows you're about to cum. Neither of you have to say anything, not when the sound of voice pitches. Now when you dig your nails into his flesh, adding onto the collection of marks you've left.

"K-Kyle cum in me. I want to cum with you~!" That was it. That was when Kyle saw a flash of white and suddenly his cock was pulsating inside of you. Letting out a chocked moan as he painted the inside of your walls with his thick cum. So much of pushed up into your cunt that it began spilling down his shaft and smeared across your thighs. He could feel your slick drip down and mix with his.

Pressing his palm down on the small of your back, he laid there with you on top of him basking in each other’s glow. As you both worked on coming down from your high, he rubbed circles on your back.

"Do you feel better?" You broke the silence with the simple little question.

"I do. Thank you my love, I don't know what I did to deserve you." He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You deserve to be happy Kyle. Deserve to be pampered."

"Greedy even?"

"Well, I would think so." You smile up at him as you press your cheek into his chest.

"Then I believe it was a beautiful queen that once said, 'We have all night'." He smirks down at you as he rolls the both of you over. You let out a little gasp when you feel his cock twitch back to life.

You only smirked back and wrapped your arms around his neck lazily throwing your arms over his shoulders. Your husband had that fire back, the dying embers now a roaring flame. The heat radiating from him was a different one now, full of life just as it should be.

[webslingingslasher]

GIRL GAVE US A SNEAK PEEK TO THE NERDY PETE FIC ANYTHING IM STARVING

which one?

the one with mean reader, who really can't stand peter and his optimism?

-----

Peter looks at you, he seems almost hopeful and you have to settle the urge to toss the plate to the ground. “You talk about me?” 

You cross your arms and sneer, “don’t worry, nothing good.” 

His smile drops, “yeah, sorry. I don’t know why..” his curls bounce as he gently shakes his head before pushing the glass into your chest. “Here, eat as many as it takes to feel somewhat okay again.” 

You grip the plate and look down, they’re your favorite. 

“We, um. We have more over here, so if you want more. Or if you wanna hang out or something I’m here, so…” 

Peter’s never been a friend like this before, and it was some pity party you wanted no part of now. 

“It’s a breakup. I’m sure I can manage without you just fine.” 

His eyebrows turn in, “right. I just thought- nevermind, enjoy the cookies.” 

As you’re about to retreat he stops in the doorway, “for what it’s worth, I think he’s stupid and he’s gonna realize what he lost when it’s way too late.” 

It’s almost nice, sometimes it sucks when the person you’re supposed to hate has human peek through their armor. 

Too bad you’re more guarded than ever. 

“Well, then. It’s a good thing you’re not worth much.” 

Maybe it’s his resilience that troubles you, no matter how hard you push him away or beat him down with words he’ll pick himself back up and hand your words back in a package of self reflection. 

Today is no exception, Peter flashes you a sad smile, this one actually is filled with pity. 

“I’m sorry you’re hurting,” you didn’t have a chance to fire back. His door was already shut.

-----

or do we want the virgin peter?

-----

Peter’s head is spinning, you’re in his lap and your bra’s about to come off. 

“I’m giving you a clear warning here, when that comes off, I’m going to objectify you for at least two minutes.” 

Your movements pause, “have you never seen boobs before?” Pink cheeks, “yes. It’s why I said I’d objectify you. When I was twelve some college girl's top came off at the beach and I thought about that for like, three years.” 

“Promise you’ll only think of mine from now on?” What a dumb question. But he wouldn’t tell you that, at least not right now. “I kind of have been, but I promise.” It’s all it takes, for the first time in his life, Peter Parker has a bra on his bedroom floor. 

“Holy shit.” His entire life just changed. A winded gasp leaves him when you move your chest, he’s never seen such a beautiful bounce. “You’re…” You perk up while waiting for the release of a million compliments, you know he has them loaded. 

“Boobs. Right there. Holy shit.” 

You giggle, “wait until you find out you can touch them.” Babmi eyes take over, Peter’s voice pitched. “Touch them?” You puff your chest out and grab his hands, guiding his touch, Peter squeaks when he makes contact. 

“This is amazing. You’re amazing.” 

“Thanks, I grew them myself.” Peter hasn’t looked at your face once, his opinion still stands. “You’re amazing.” His brain clicks, eyes shoot to yours. 

“And beautiful! You’re super pretty and beautiful and you’re letting me touch your boobs and that’s really awesome.” 

“I’m glad you like them.” Because you are and his adoration has you leaning down for a kiss. 

Peter’s curious touches leave you moaning into his mouth while you grind against his beltline, this was slightly new territory. First time Peter’s touched your chest without a bra, not the first time you’ve grinded on him, but the first time you went past a few teasing brushes. 

A sharp groan leaves his lips, it sounds slightly painful. Delicate hands push you back before doing his best to ease your settling. “You gotta move, you’re digging in.” Unsure of where you’re digging, you shift around in his lap. Right then, you feel something poking your left thigh. 

You look down, it’s exactly what you thought. “Oh, wow.” 

Peter’s sheepish, “yeah…” 

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

[wonlovie]

bonus chapter ! the fight

After a nasty fall, you, world-renowned figure skater and stealer of hearts, are forced into an early retirement. But with a boyfriend who’s the star player in one of Korea’s leading hockey teams and a friend group of trending skaters who refuse to leave you in the dust, the cameras stay on. So, how are you supposed to keep it a secret when Yang Jungwon, your boyfriend’s publicly declared rival and enemy, decides you’re his next target?

The boys rushed into the changing rooms with wide grins on their faces that were dripping with sweat. Jumbled cheers echoed at their victory, the nth one in a row against High1. Excited chatter filled the room as the group started getting ready to head off. The showers left steam in the air, and the hastily removed hockey gear left behind a distinct musk they’d long grown used to.

Team members left the room one by one, shouting their goodbyes as they went to get some well-deserved rest. Eventually, there were only six boys in the changing room. Jungwon’s cat-like eyes flit over the room as he surveyed his members’ conditions. Albeit exhausted from a gruelling game, everyone seemed in high spirits.

“Shame Jake couldn’t come,” Sunghoon said offhandedly as he pulled a sweater over his head. “Of course, the guy had to catch the flu before semis.” He shook his head, drops of water from his shower flicking in every direction. Sunoo threw a towel at his head, mumbling a comment about getting sick himself.

Jungwon could only laugh at his friend’s antics, sporting a proud smile as he sat on the wooden bench. “He has to rest if he wants to play for the semifinals, Hoon. We’re lucky that he got sick before a match against High1.” Rolling his eyes playfully, he continued, “If it were any other team, we might have actually struggled.”

As laughter filled the room at his jab, Jungwon’s shoulders eased into a slouch. He felt the tension lift off his body as he pulled out his phone to tell Jake about their win. The door slammed open abruptly before he could even press on his contact. 

The boys simultaneously jumped at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening at the sight of the rival team’s captain, Park Yoon, standing in the doorway. His eyes, dark with anger, scanned the room before landing on Jungwon. He felt his heart still at the eye contact but stood up defiantly.

“What are you doing in here?” Jungwon asked, almost exasperated, as he walked up to meet Yoon, arms crossed. “You must have the wrong room. This isn’t High1’s—”

Before Jungwon could utter another word, the sickening crunch of fist-to-cheek contact reverberated around the room. The other boys gasped, Heeseung and Jay moving quickly to separate the two leaders. Their attempts, however, were fruitful as Jungwon pounced at Yoon, punching him back with the same enthusiasm.

“Guys,” Heeseung exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to hold Jungwon back. Beside him, Jay did the same with Yoon, pushing his shoulders back to shove him out of the room altogether. “Knock it off—”

His words were brushed aside as Yoon pushed past Jay and hurled another punch at Jungwon. “You’re such a fucking bitch, you know that?” Yoon hissed, eyes turning to slits as he glared at the shorter leader. “The crowd might not have seen, but I fucking saw what you did.”

Jungwon’s lips curled into a deep frown as he fisted Yoon’s hockey jersey. “What are you even talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb! I know you fucking cheated in the last period.” Yoon threw another punch, but Jungwon moved away in time, using Yoon’s momentum to knee him in the gut. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, a violent wheeze ripping from his throat as he hunched over.

“So, on top of being shit at hockey,” Jungwon narrowed his eyes at Yoon, who lunged at him once his breathing settled. “You’re also delusional! I never cheated.”

Yoon landed another punch. Jungwon winced as he stumbled back, Jay’s hands stabilizing him from behind. He touched his cheek, hissing when he came in contact with blood. “I know what I saw,” Yoon insisted, reaching back to strike Jungwon again. Thinking quickly, Jungwon jumped at him, catching him off guard. He hit Yoon’s eye, his knuckles pulsing in pain from the harsh contact.

The door slammed again, all eyes turning to see who had joined them. To everyone’s surprise, you stood there wearing a vexed look. When your eyes landed on the two captains, your expression slipped into one of concern for a moment before the anger seeped back in. 

“Yoon, are you fucking stupid?” You rasped, eyes darting back and forth between the captain’s bloodied faces. “What are you doing?” Taking wide steps, you reached the two in a matter of seconds, looking at your boyfriend incredulously. He avoided your gaze, instead opting to look daggers at Jungwon, whose eyes were trained on you.

Before Jungwon could even process that you were in their changing room, he noticed Yoon moving out of the corner of his eye. He reacted late, closing his eyes in anticipation of Yoon’s assault. Jungwon heard the impact of skin on skin and the sound of someone stumbling, but he felt nothing. Opening his eyes, he gaped when he saw you hunched over, cupping your face in pain as Yoon stared at your crumpled form, wide-eyed.

Yoon glanced at you, then at his fist, and back to you again. It looked like he wanted to say something, but when he looked up and met Jungwon’s peeved gaze, he almost growled in annoyance. Without another word, he stormed out.

The room was quiet for a second, aside from Riki’s utterance of ‘unbelievable.’ Jungwon stared at you for a moment longer before looking at the boys over his shoulder. “Out. Now.”

They didn’t take long to get the memo, scuttling out of the room after grabbing their things. Only you and Jungwon were left in the room, an awkward silence falling upon you. Your face ached from the impact of Yoon’s heavy-handed punch—no doubt you’d be bruised by tomorrow morning. You could vaguely feel blood drip from your cheekbone. Yoon’s ring must’ve left a scratch.

Clearing his throat, Jungwon took a tiny step toward you. Bowing his head a bit to see the damage, his round eyes darted to yours, worry swirling in his dark hues. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You looked at him with shock conveyed behind your expression, blinking rapidly as you processed his question. You almost hadn’t expected him to hold any compassion for you since you were his arch-enemy’s girlfriend. Wordlessly, you nodded.

He didn’t seem too convinced, frowning as he moved closer to inspect your cheek. He mumbled for you to wait a second before rushing to his duffle bag, sifting through the contents momentarily. You watched as he searched for something, a relieved look on his face as he pulled out a small first-aid kit.

Jungwon returned to you, ushering you to sit on one of the nearby benches. You didn’t argue, staring at him inquisitively as he fumbled with the kit. He said nothing else as he gently wiped the blood from your wound, lips pursed in concentration. You’d never seen him this close before, but he was taking your breath away just as he had at the rink.

You swallowed thickly, looking at one of the room's corners to avoid his intimidating gaze.

He applied an ointment on your cheek, proudly looking back at his work. “I don’t think you’ll need a bandaid. The bleeding stopped, and it’s not too big of a scratch.” He went to close the first-aid kit but paused, looking up at you through his bangs. “Unless you want one?”

“No,” you said quickly, cringing at how high your voice had come out. “No. I should be okay. Thank you for doing that.”

“It’s no problem,” Jungwon said with a soft smile, clicking the kit closed. He stayed there briefly as if he had something else to say. Clenching onto the first-aid kit tightly, he looked at you earnestly, “You were at the rink yesterday, right? So does that mean your leg is better now?”

You physically cringed at the question, a deep frown embedding itself onto your face before you could stop it. Sensing that he made a mistake, Jungwon panicked. Waving his arms in front of him as though to disperse the air of his previous question, he shot you an extremely nervous smile. “Sorry! Ignore that, please.” Biting down on his lip, he opened his mouth again, “Meet me at the rink tomorrow? At two? I’ll book it so we’re alone.”

You stared at him in disbelief, jaw slightly agape. Before you could answer, you noticed some movement outside the door, which had been cracked open a smidge. Narrowing your eyes, you made contact with the rest of Jungwon’s teammates. Jungwon’s gaze followed your line of sight, his neutral expression dropping into mild disappointment when he realized they had been listening the whole time.

“Guys…” Jungwon started, peeved that your conversation had been interrupted. You could hear them swear at getting caught, immediately running off before they could genuinely face Jungwon’s wrath. You stifled a laugh at their odd behaviour, glancing up at Jungwon. He sighed heavily, shoulders deflating slightly as he dropped his head into one hand. The tips of his ears seemed red, although you noted it might be from the cool air coming into the room.

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©WONLOVIE please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Squish

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Things may be better, but Roman still struggles occaisonally. Remus is happy to help him out.

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| Ao3 |

Written for: This Prompt

Warnings: Some self dep, mainly Roman thinking badly about himself again. overstimulation. vague reference to past self harm.

Pairings: Creativitwins, Roceit

Word Count: 1481

Notes:

Hello!!

Darkside Roman fic!

Thank you to Oatmeal for the prompt here on my Tumblr (feel free to leave a request yourself!), I did write this on my train ride - I just forgot to post it yesterday, haha.

----

Roman stood before his mirror. The floor length one, in his room, with ornate golden carvings around the frame. The mirror itself looked like something that belonged in a king’s chamber in a palace, not Roman’s bedroom. His room may be ornate, his red canopy bed was beautiful, with a carved wooden headboard and translucent red drapes. His desk was mahogany, also elegantly carved and looked like something straight out of a vicotorian drawing room, his plush red rug created a nice centrepiece to his room and his closet was full to bursting with clothes he would probably never actually get to wear, bis room was ornate, but it wasn’t fit for him.

A beautiful, elegant room, fit for a prince. Roman didn’t feel like he belonged there.

His tail had been the last thing to come through, he was pretty sure, and now it swayed behind him, brushing over the ground repeatedly in a way that irritated him to no end. He thought he should be used to it by now, after his week spent in the imagination. Which he didn’t remember most of, but Janus had reassured him that nothing bad had happened, he hadn’t hurt anyone – he, apparently, had actually been kind of cute. And he’d somehow gotten Virgil to join them for movie nights, too, he wondered how exactly he’d done that with his dragon brain.

Dark wings spread behind him, the bloody red of the scaley skin making him cringe away from his own reflection. Red was his colour, the colour of passion and love, romance. Red was also the colour of anger, of fire burning brightly, hurt, pain, distruction. When he was a Prince, the red meant love, a bright spirit, now…

His wings twitch and Roman reaches around himself to – what, try to get them off? He’d already tried that more than enough and all it did was hurt, there was no point, he was stuck like this now. His tail started to thrash behind him without his permission, he hated how out of control it was, he couldn’t stand how it moved when he was irritated or upset – it made it practically impossible to hide what he was feeling and the way it dragged against the hardrood floor of his room made him want to scream-

“Roro!?” His bedroom door slammed open, making his wings flare out in surprise. He whipped around to face his brother in the doorway, forgetting once more about his tail and only remembering when it slammed into the mirror, sending it crashing to the floor in shards. The golden carved frame was ruined, the mirror itself now only showing a fragmented reflection. Roman stared at it in shock, wondering if this reflection was more accurate.

“Oooh- that’s not good,” Remus said, “Sorry Ro – did I scare ya?”

“No- no, it’s- it’s fine I was just…” Roman trailed off, looking back at the mirror, “Focused.” He settles on.

“What? On admiring yourself?” Remus giggled, coming over, “Janny wanted me to come get you, you’re missing dinner.”

“I am?” Roman asked, looking at his twin with a frown, he thought dinner was still a few hours away.

“What’s going on in that silly head of yours, Ro?” Remus knocked on his skull like it was a door, and Roman winced away, batting halfheartedly at his hands, he hadn’t noticed Remus come over, “Oh c’mon, I can basically see your thoughts crowding up in there.”

“Just- leave it, it doesn’t matter,” Roman tried to wave him off, “I’ll be down for dinner soon.”

“Oh no, nope, absolutely not,” Remus said, shaking Roman lightly by the shoulder, “You only say crap like that when something’s really wrong, now what’s got my lil’ bro so upset?”

“Remus-“ Roman huffed, he was going for a warning tone, trying to get his brother to back off, though he was pretty sure it sounded a lot more pathetic than he was intending, “Just-“

“Nope, get, now, sit down, go on,” Remus practically shoved him back towards his bed and Roman’s tail curled around his feet as he was pushed to sit down as he continued to weakly protest. Once he was down, Romus practically threw himself on top of him, putting all of his weight on him. Roman hated to admit that it did help, even if he had to shuffle around so he wasn’t squashing his wings.

“There, better?” Remus asked, already knowing that ‘being squished’ as Remus called it, tended to help quite a lot, Roman nodded weakly, “Now, what’s the shit bothering you?”

“My stupid- stupid brain,” He huffed, looking up at the canopy of his bed, “I feel like- like all this stuff – it’s not -it’s not mine – it’s like I don’t- I don’t feel like I- I deserve it-“

“Deserve it?” Remus says, “Why the fuck wouldn’t you deserve it?”

“I don’t – because, because I’m hideous – because all I do is cause pain? I just- I hurt Patton and Logan, I hurt Virgil – I definitely hurt you, and I probably hurt Jan and I just-“

Repetitive, insistent tapping on his cheek drew him back out of the spiral he was descending into, Remus was frowning at him.

“Tell your brain to fuck off, Ro,” Remus said, bapping him on the forehead, “You’re cool as fuck, you haven’t hurt Janny or Virgin, you haven’t hurt the others nearly as much as they fucked you up, and yeah, being isolated from you hurt like a fucking soap bath but that wasn’t your fault-“

“I know that but – but this-“ he pulls at one of his wings again and Remus slaps his hand away.

“Is really fucking cool,” he finishes Roman’s sentence, “Literally, you can fly – and you can set shit on fire, how is that not cool as fuck?”

“And I’ve told you that- that doesn’t matter – it’s – it’s – dragons are evil,” Roman said, dragging his hand over his face, his claws leaving the lightest marks on his own skin, “They’re meant to hurt people destroy things, hoard gold, I don’t want to be a greedy, prideful, nasty creature.”

“Yeah, and we’ve told you every time you say this that you’re not any of that shit,” Remus said, pulling Roman’s hand away from his face so he doesn’t hurt himself any more. Roman whined, before coughing smoke right into Remus’ face and immediately panicking.

“Mm!” Remus said, “Thanks Roro,”

“What?”

“The smoke?”

“Yeah uh – why are you thanking me?”

“Cause’ it smells good?” Remus tilted his head, “Like free perfume.”

Roman can’t help the snort of laughter that escaped him. He should’ve known that Remus would enjoy smelling of smoke. Of course, something like that wouldm’t have upset him, he was Remus for goodness sake.

“Y’know Janny would say something poetic about how dragons were strong and awesome again if he heard this, right?” Remus poked him in the side and Roman batted his hands away again.

“Yeah yeah – I know – it’s getting better though, I swear.”

Remus hummed, flopping down properly on top of him, “These spirals not happening so often?” He asked.

“No – it’s just – sometimes it all starts to bother me – it’s like –“

“You’re feeling loads of things all at once and you feel like you’re whole body is gonna explode?” Remus suggests, “Like there are ants crawling all over your skin and you can’t get ‘em off?”

“Yeah- um- something like that,” Roman nodded.

“Is the squishing helping?” Remus asked.

Roman took a long, deep breath, “Yeah, thanks.”

“Awesome ‘cause if it didn’t I’d have to crush up all your bones.”

“…Thanks, Ree,” Roman shook his head with a fond smile.

“You feeling good enough for dinner?” Remus asked, “’Cause I think Janny’s made pie, and he’s gonna get worried ‘cause we’ve been gone so long.”

“I… I think so,” Roman nodded. Shoving Remus away so he could get up. He waved away the mess from the mirror and now that spot felt far too empty, but he wouldn’t let it bother him right now. His tail still dragged over the hardwood floor, but it didn’t bother him so much now. Remus grabbed him by the arm and dragged him downstairs.

“Sorry we’re late!” Remus yelled as they arrived in the dining room, “Roro was having a crisis again.”

“Is everything alright?” Janus looked up with concern clear in his expression. Roman smiled.

“Yeah – it is now,” he said, taking his seat.

“Mhm, I helped,” Remus said proudly. Janus chuckled.

“Thank you, Remus, I presume you did an awful job?”

“As always,” Remus nodded with a grin. Roman couldn’t help but smile as he settled into their company, finally able to relax now that they were both here.

When Roman returned to his room later that night, he found a new mirror in the old one’s place, this one was just as ornate, but made out of black marble.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[milimeters-morales]

chap 7 of my transfem miles fic :3

Chap 1 / Chap 2 / Chap 3 / Chap 4 / Chap 5 / Chap 6 / Chap 8 / Chap 9

Wordcount: 3k+

Warnings: None!

(milesganke focused-chapter)

This time, Miles knows he’s dreaming. 

He’s standing in front of one of his classes, completely naked. He screams, and a blanket materializes around him as the crowd laughs. Tears in his eyes, he can make out his parents, Ganke, some of his friends, and some people wearing animal heads. 

G. suddenly appears behind him, asking about dinner plans, and suddenly Miles is sitting on his couch and fiddling with a remote. 

“Uhm,” he begins, awkwardly wondering what to do now. He can’t stop the dream, he doesn’t really know how, but he doesn’t want it to continue either. “What’d you say?”

G. doesn’t say anything, it doesn’t even look like he heard him, and just keeps brushing his teeth.

Miles exits the… bathroom. Alright. He hates this.

“You forgot to shave!” His own voice calls as he leaves, stepping into a crosswalk. Kenneth laughs beside him, their scarf randomly cycling through colors each time Miles remembered it was there. They look up at him with bright eyes and a warm smile, and Miles can’t help but return it.

“You’re like me?” Kenneth asks, a bit breathless. “We have to stick together, you know. Others are gonna love you, but they don’t believe me.”

“What?” 

“It’s tomorrow,” Kenneth laughs again, dress slowly growing vines and spreading to Miles’s feet. They’re still in the middle of the crosswalk, and a car horn honks at them.

“Kenneth, I’m dreaming, okay?”

“Aw, c’mon. We were getting somewhere,” the kid waves around a fancy purse, “I have a present for youuuu….” 

Miles really wants to reach out, to grab that bag. It’s calling to him, and Kenneth looks so happy. Their brown eyes are warm, is someone hugging him? The scenery changes several times in just a second-- rainy crosswalk, sunny greenhouse, his school gym, the top of the Brooklyn Bridge-- it makes his eyes hurt. 

Opening them, he’s back in Gwen’s bedroom. She’s about to pierce his ear, and he’s late for work. Work? God, he really hates being so aware in this…

“This is gonna hurt, but you’ll feel much better.”

“It itches sometimes,” Miles tells her, grabbing at the skirt Kenneth was wearing, now on him. Wait, no, he’s wearing jeans now. Okay? 

“I know, but you’ll look great!” Gwen squeezes his shoulder, and stabs his lobe right after.

Shouting in pain but not feeling it leave his chest, just air push through his throat, he’s thrown down one of Spot’s portals-- he’s not calling them holes!

Landing roughly on a slab of concrete, Miles pushes up his mask to his nose to breathe better. Alright, he’s fighting… who’s he fighting? Maybe this dream’s going to turn into a nightmare?

The monstrous mix of Green Goblin-Spot-Scorpion soars past him, carrying Hobie and Ganke with its clawed feet and dropping them right above a portal.

“No!” Miles screams out, darting out to catch them, trying to protect their heads and necks as they land directly onto shattered glass. It doesn’t hurt though, just burns and runs down like he’s in a hot shower.

“Oh my god, please wake up, please wake up,” his voice, weirdly distorted, begs. 

Hobie stirs, and Ganke’s fingers twitch once, but neither wake up.

This is definitely a nightmare. 

“Not real, not real, this isn’t real…” Miles reminds himself. It’s not real, and he knows that, why is it so hard to just wake up? Not even a scenery change?

A tugging at his side makes him look away from the sight of two of his best friends clinging onto life and to the sight of his mom and dad in a doorway. Warm light outlines them, invites Miles in, actually. A younger version of himself sits down between him and his parents, glaring at him. “You’re scaring them. Hurry. Up.”

Miles’s nose wrinkles in distaste. Rude little…

“Miles, ¿Tienes hambro?”

Hambro? What’s “hambro”? 

His dad nods, seemingly agreeing that Miles is hungry (that’s probably what his mom meant to ask) without Miles actually saying anything. He’s not, by the way.

There’s blood on his back, and now there’s some on his hands and face, but he can just walk in the kitchen? 

“Dreaming, sweetie,” some woman’s voice reminds him.

Right. None of this is real. His friends aren’t in danger behind him, and his parents aren’t asking him to come eat, and his younger self isn’t sneering at him. Ugh. Was he really this bad as a kid? No, right?

Kid-Miles throws a pebble at his foot, and runs off into the dark.

With a scoff, Miles steps through his parents, which is real freaky, but then he falls through onto his bed, feeling like he’s still falling through the air even as he lies down.

With a jolt, he wakes up, clutching at his blankets that somehow ended wrapped around him like a cocoon. 

Time, what time is it , he thinks as he blindly reaches around for his phone. 

10AM-- Ganke definitely wasn’t awake yet. There was no way he’d willingly be awake before noon on a Saturday.

Hiding his head under his pillow, Miles tries to recall anything about his dream. He knows he was pretty aware during it, but not much else. He thinks Kenneth was there? They were definitely talking to him in it, maybe it was something about getting jumped? He thinks he remembers that Green Goblin, the one that died a while back. And… food? His mom was saying something about food, maybe. 

Speaking of food…

Pushing himself up, Miles makes his way to the kitchen, scratching behind his ears. He can find something to eat, and while he’s doing that he’ll text Ganke the good news, and they’ll go from there. A part of Miles kinda hopes it ends there, to be honest, but he feels a little guilty thinking that. So he tries not to think about that at all.

Once he’s halfway through a bowl of cereal is he finally awake enough to start being a human.

•••

Miles:

good morning (o´▽`o) !! i told peter again about us & i told g too  peter was like a warmup but they were both chill  with it though u probably  guessed that lol love you <3 text me when u wake up

•••

With a sigh, Miles puts his phone down and makes his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

Looking in the mirror, he almost loses his damn mind.

Is that… Is that hair? Above his lip? Real hair? That can’t be actual hair, hold on--

Miles wipes roughly at his lip, gasping when he sees the hairs still there.

How long as that even been there? Surely his parents, or even any of his friends, would have pointed it out if it’s been a while? Hairs don’t just-- wait, spider-powers! His hair probably grows quicker! His growth spurt was probably somewhat affected by the bite, so who’s to say he won’t have like, an entire beard within the month?! 

Wait, no, he doesn’t want a beard. Hm. 

Quickly running back to his room, he grabs his watch and opens a portal to Peter’s dimension.

It takes a few minutes, and an escape from a dog, but he manages to get to the porch unscathed. He doesn’t even get to knock before the door opens and he’s being pulled in.

“Peter! Look, I got a mustache!” He all-but-shouts, bouncing on the couch he’s thrown on.

“Who’s this?” A woman playfully asks.

Miles briefly looks at her behind him, leaning on the kitchen counter. She’s got white hair, dark brown skin, and piercing green eyes, and a black latex suit that’s showing a bit… more than Miles thinks he should be looking at. He quickly focuses on Peter, who looks haggard but still wearing a smile on his face. 

“I’m Miles, ma’am,” he tells her, not looking in her direction, “Dude, look! See! Does the--” he remembers the guest in the room, eyes widening slightly, “--um, the condition, does it affect hair growth? Will I get a beard in a few days?”

Peter shrugs, “I don’t know, the bite didn’t make my hair grow at all, but it’s different for everybody. Miles, Felicia, Felicia, Miles. He’s that Spider-Man I was telling you about, remember?” he asks the woman, Felicia. She waves, and Miles distractedly returns it.

Aw, man! So Peter’s not going to be any help for this.

Absentmindedly, Miles holds his chin and runs a finger over the tiny hairs sprouting above his lip. He could ask Hobie, maybe he’s had to deal with facial hair growing quicker? But Hobie doesn’t ever really seem to have facial hair. But he could just be shaving a ton-- wait, he said he didn’t shave his legs though, so he doesn’t see why Hobie would shave his face either. Maybe Pavitr could help?

If he knew for sure this was a normal puberty thing, Miles would've gone straight to his dad after he came back from work. He can see it now, his dad would make a joke about how he’s growing so fast, clap him on the shoulder, and laugh before telling him that he better not start acting like he’s grown. Maybe even take him to get some snacks as a little celebratory thing…

“What are you smiling about?” Peter’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and Miles turns to see the man holding Mayday in one arm and his coffee in the other. Felicia is pouring herself coffee as well, but making faces at Mayday, who happily squeals in return.

“Just, uh, dad stuff. I’m gonna ask Pavitr something,” he answers. 

“Are you gonna get dressed?” Peter asks him, tilting his head. 

Miles looks down with a confused look. He’s wearing a white tank top and some red pants, what’s wrong with how he’s dressed? He’s just going to call the other teen. “What?”

“Oh, nevermind then,” Peter shrugs, “say hi May!” 

“Ahb! Mmm,” Mayday giggles, yanking at Peter’s hair. He winces slightly, mouthing something about super strength. 

“Is she trying to say his name?” Felicia coos, taking a sip of her coffee right after.

“So, you’re another hero?” Miles asks, realizing he didn’t even actually know why she was here.

“Ah, me? I wouldn’t say that,” she smirks at Peter, and Miles pretends he doesn’t see that.

“She’s Black Cat, do you not have one in your universe?” Peter asks him, successfully freeing his hair from Mayday’s clutches.

Miles goes to reach for his phone to search that up, maybe there’s some news articles about her in his universe, but when he feels nothing in his pockets, he sighs heavily. “I left my phone at home.”

“Okay wait, don’t actually look that up, I’ll do it,” Peter says, eyes wide and brows raised in a sort of panicked way. Felicia looks briefly panicked too, coughing lightly before schooling her expression.

“I need to call Pavitr anyway, I’m gonna get my phone--”

“NO, no-- do not look that up, just ask your dad or something. He’s probably had to deal with her. Them, who knows? I didn’t expect Doc Ock to be a woman in your universe! Did you know--”

Peter’s rambling again, which means he’s stalling. What’s he even stalling from? Is she a horrible criminal? Wait, no, then she wouldn’t be in Peter’s home near his baby. Oh, maybe she had a really personal matter made public… Miles can understand Peter not wanting to see all that when he hasn’t even met his version of Black Cat yet.

“Alright, fine, I’ll ask him later. Bye,” Miles waves goodbye, jumping up into the portal and hoping it actually drops him off right back into his apartment.

It doesn’t.

He had to crawl back into his own home through his bedroom window since it decided the roof of the building was good enough, stupid piece of…

Anyway. Miles was currently getting hyped up by Pavitr, something the other boy is incredibly good at, over the phone while he admires the few hairs in the mirror. 

“I’m so jealous!” Pavitr laughs loudly, and hurriedly quieting down. “I can’t believe you tell me this right when I’m about to fall asleep, c’monnnn…”

“Hey, I don’t control the time!” Miles replies, “I wish you could see it, it’s not much--”

“Don’t sell yourself short--”

“--no seriously, it’s not much! But like… you don’t really expect it until bam! It’s there! And it’s gonna grow, and I’ll look like my dad. Or my uncle!” His chest feels warm at the thought. Man, getting a mustache like his uncle? He probably wouldn’t let it grow into a beard like the man did, might just keep it the way his dad does, but still… the fact that he even can! 

“I have to shave sometimes, but the hair doesn’t really grow that fast. Weird, right?”

“Yeah,” Miles replies distractedly, “wait, you have to shave? Your face?”

“Yes? It’s quite common,” Pavitr yawns, “I’ve seen boys only a year older with full beards. Maya Auntie says I’m still gonna look like my mom even with one, though.”

Miles hums, “Would that bother you?” 

“Probably not? Don’t tell her I said this, but I think she might be wrong. I’m gonna look way more like my uncle, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah,” Miles smiles, “I won’t tell a soul, don’t worry man.”

“Same here,” Pavitr says, sounding entirely too serious out of nowhere. “I’m great at keeping secrets, okay?”

“...Yeah man. Uh, but I got a question, and then I’ll let you go,” Miles says, running a finger over the hairs. “Do you think our facial hair grows faster because of the spider-bite?”

Pavitr hums tiredly. “Maybe. I don’t see why it wouldn’t… all my other hair definitely grows fast, but I don’t know if our powers have anything to do with that.”

Miles looks down at his own legs. Some hair is visible, but not enough to make him want to shave it. Dang, he should’ve been comparing that to normal growth rates online-- ONLINE! 

“Oh, I got the answer! Thanks Pavitr, love you man!”

“Love you too, bro,” Pavitr yawns again, and Miles hangs up.

He stares some more in the mirror, trying out different expressions to see… something. He isn’t exactly sure. He turns his head side to side, seeing if the hairs are visible from certain angles. Running a hand over his jaw, thoughts of a beard popped into his head. Pavitr said boys even younger than them sometimes get them, and Miles knew that, he’s seen kids both a year older and a year younger have the beginnings of one in his school. He’s seen a few pictures of his dad and uncle from when they were only a little older than him, and they didn’t have any visible facial hair, so maybe it really is accelerated for him?

He really doesn’t want to deal with a beard. He’d have to shave it so often, and the very thought of it makes him feel wrong. Is that weird? No, right? Many guys don’t want beards. Pavitr is one of them, evidently. 

…

Ugh, does it even matter? He’s really focused on this for nothing.

He should see if Ganke responded yet.

•••

Ganke:

omg thats great !ヾ(≧▽≦*)o  but i still wanna talk more about this about us i feel really bad making you come out to them so i wanna apologize lunch on me?

•••

Miles takes a deep breath, looking to the ceiling for a minute. Ganke’s sorry? But he didn’t really do anything… 

•••

Miles:

yeah sure <3 what r u feeling like and no need to apologize! i totally get where you were coming from

Ganke:

thats not really the point okay lets meet at the bakery im not doing this over text 

yknow that one near whole foods

Miles:

the one that costs too much?

Ganke:

lol i already said im paying!!

vut yeah *but

Miles:

ight im getting dressed and leaving in 10 (─‿‿─)♡

•••

“So, why’d you apologize? It’s not like you did anything wrong,” Miles starts after taking a bite of his sandwich. The park they decided to sit in while eating was filled with people, parents playing with their young children or resting on benches, elderly couples simply walking around and enjoying the nice weather, people generally hanging out, the usual.

“No, it’s… um,” Ganke rubs his knee, looking to the ground, “I shouldn’t have-- I knew you weren’t ready, even if you said you’d try it out, and--”

Miles watches with slowly growing anxiety. Did he do something wrong? Is Ganke gonna leave him anyway because they even had this problem in the first place? No, right? They worked through it, they are currently talking about it, he needs to stop jumping to conclusions.

Calm down, Morales.

“Okay, I’m getting all… ughhh. I wrote it down,” Ganke groans as he pulls a neatly folded piece of paper out of his pocket. “I stayed up all night trying to figure out how to say this.”

Maybe with enough willpower, maybe Miles can absorb the sweat forming on his forehead before Ganke notices it.

“Okay, I’m sorry for sending you to come out to people on your own. I should’ve given you more time, and helped you more with trying to be okay telling anybody-- like, rehearsing together or something like that. And I really should’ve gone with you so you wouldn’t have to do it alone, I… was… I basically forced you to come out. I knew you were scared, weren’t ready, and I made you do it anyway.”

Miles raises a brow in confusion. “What? No, you didn’t. I said I would do it, that’s like, the exact opposite of you forcing me to do anything.” 

Ganke shakes his head, “No, I know that you said you’d do it, but I kinda put you on the spot and didn’t really give us a chance to really talk it out. I was just so excited that you were finally telling people in your life about us, I didn’t… think it through.” He trails off and focuses on something behind Miles. “Hey, is that… Hobie?”

Miles’s eyes widen as he whips his head around, spotting the older teen leisurely strolling towards them.

“Hobie, what’s going on?” Miles asks, placing his sandwich down on the bench. As Hobie gets closer, the small but numerous cuts on his face and arms become visible. He shakes his head with a shrug as an answer, and sits on the arm of the bench.

“You eatin’ that?” Hobie asks, nodding towards his barely-eaten sandwich.

Miles wordlessly hands it over. 

“Are you alright?” Ganke asks.

Hobie gives a thumbs up. 

“Not tryna talk right now?” Miles asks, watching the cuts heal up as the teen took more bites.

A hum of confirmation.

Well… seeing as Hobie doesn’t seem to be in debilitating pain or worried at all, and is eating in a safe spot where Miles can keep an eye on him, there doesn’t seem to be any reason for worry. 

Turning back to Ganke, Miles tries to remember where they left off.

“Oh, right-- It’s not like that at all, man. Sure, it would’ve been nice if we did it together, but I got through it on my own!” Miles gives Ganke a reassuring smile, but the other boy keeps glancing at him and then Hobie with furrowed brows.

Turning back to Hobie, the realization hits Miles like a truck: he’d have to come out to the other boy, too. Miles hears Ganke’s breath hitch when Hobie slowly turns to meet both of their eyes. 

Whenever they had first got to the park and made their way to a bench a bit a ways away, Miles was pretty aware of the few people that would pass by, it was kind of difficult not to be, even though he knew most of them weren’t paying the two. It made him worry that he was beginning to look suspicious, but he still managed to mostly ignore those worries. But now, Miles was hyper-aware of the sound of children playing a game of tag, people talking about dinner plans and family matters, birds singing, the occasional dog barking-- his and Ganke’s heartbeat were the loudest noises by far.

However, Hobie’s heartbeat was calm, the deep bags under his eyes adding to his usual sleepy-look, and had an overall uninterested aura. So, the usual. But Miles didn’t let that fool him, Hobie was smart, knew how to appear like he didn’t care about whatever was going on when in reality he was already five steps ahead.

Wait, stop-- he shouldn’t be thinking about his friend like this, like he’s some… master manipulator. Hobie is possibly the most accepting guy-not-guy he’s ever met, why is he so anxious? Hobie wouldn’t hurt him, especially about something like this. He probably wouldn’t even joke about it.

Miles turns back to Ganke with wide eyes, and gives him his best “are-we-going-to-come-out-to-my-friend-together-or-will-we-try-to-get-him-away-from-us-for-a-bit-to-continue-this-discussion” look.

Ganke gives a tiny shrug and a wince.

Okay. Then they’re gonna do this.

They can do this. Miles knows Ganke can, and Ganke knows Ganke can, so that’s already more than halfway there. With a strained smile, and a nod that make the other boy’s eyes widen, Miles lets out a deep breath.

Hobie starts eating again, but almost immediately begins choking on the sandwich, which both boys ignore in favor of their silent pep-talk.

Ganke nods up once towards Hobie, with a raised brow. Are you sure? This guy?

Miles furrows his brows and nods rapidly. Yes, I’m totally sure.

Ganke squints one eye as if he’s struggling to wink. Are you sure you’re sure? Not trying to force you.

Miles smiles softly for a quick second, and inches his hand closer to his boyfriend’s. I’m sure.

Ganke returns the smile.

Alright. Okay. He can do this. Just turn around… just turn around and say a single sentence to Hobie.

“Hey dude,” Ganke starts, leaning forward a little to get a better look at Hobie, who was taking deep breaths and staring at the ground. The sandwich was nowhere to be seen. “We need to tell you something.”

“Go ‘head,” Hobie says between breaths.

Miles swallows, pushing past the feeling of his clammy hands and the shivers going down his spine.

“We’re together,” Miles says, several invisible hands clutching at his chest and pulling harshly at his shoulders as the words come out. 

Ha, come out, a part of him tries to joke. 

“Congrats,” Hobie responds, rubbing at his throat, “yeah, congrats.”

Miles feels his legs shaking a little, and turns back to Ganke, who kisses the corner of his mouth after aiming for his cheek.

It feels amazing, like always, but at the same time, Miles can’t help but feel like this is the beginning of an end. There’s a sense of doom, but it is probably the anxiety that normally looms over him when it comes to PDA with Ganke…

He returns the radiant smile Ganke gives him afterwards anyway.

A/N: formatting the text portion on here is HELL. anyway in this chap i made it to where something seems a bit rushed, that's from Miles's anxiety about his relationship making it hard for him to truly focus on things that aren't related to it in a way you'd expect. oh and especially the nuance of what Ganke's talking about, he still doesn't really understand, his brain just wants the "problem" to end. dw though the future chapters will teach his ass

also here's the link to the fic too if you wanna read a little ahead (it's private): https://archiveofourown.org/works/51117049/chapters/129152488

and the squidgeworld link too if you can't access the first one: https://squidgeworld.org/works/56441/chapters/116867

[thesilent-o]

"Sir, could you--" Moxxie started to address him from the open doorway to his office. However, Blitzo cut him off before he could finish the thought.

"Sorry Mox, I don't have time to deal with whatever bullshit you have going on. I have more important things to do today." He said abruptly and stood from behind his desk.

He was quick to move past the smaller imp, who stood staring at him a little bewildered. Most days whenever Blitzo stated he had more important things going on, they weren't at all important. It was more of an excuse for him to just shove away whatever issue was going on at the office that he didn't care to handle himself. Especially whenever it came down to Moxxie asking him for something. This time though, it was more than just a lame excuse. Which was why his employee was confused when Blitzo actually brushed past him and out of the office. Generally, he would just shove Moxxie out before slamming the door shut in his face. This time, Blitzo was hurrying for the door that led into their office.

"Mox, I'm leaving you in charge of any new clients that come through. Just make sure you do a better job than last time, okay? I am actually trying to stay in business here. And try not to fuck up my office while I'm gone." And slam.

He was out the door with his last set of orders, not bothering to waste any time in answering any questions that likely would have been thrown his way. Blitzo was trying to play it cool, but truthfully he wasn't sure how long he would have been able to contain himself if he had waited around much longer. The request has come to meet and try to catch up. Smooth things over so to speak from a friendship he had thought for sure he had long since lost years ago. It was one fragment of the life that Blitzo knew and loved, just one, but it was better than nothing. With his father out of the picture and his sister estranged, Fizzarolli was all that was left of the life he had before he had become a skilled assassin. Before his heart had been broken in so many ways that it felt impossible to patch up. And if he could have a chance to reunite with that one fragment of his past, he was going to take it.

But he was anxious as he left IMP. His phone clutched tightly in one hand. Theyd reached an understanding the last time Blitzo had seen Fizz , but hadn't talked much outside that. Their lives had taken two totally different turns since the accident. And while some of their lives was very public. There were other things, smaller parts that neither of them knew about each other. It would take more than an understanding to heal fifteen years of misplaced feelings, avoidance and abandonment. This would be a start though, a step in the right direction. Blitzo had yet to tell his employees about this. Because it would mean discussing pieces of his past that he wasn't comfortable with. The bits that still made him emotional. That was best saved for now for those who had been part of it. Like Fizz. So, for now the meeting he had set up with him had been made without the others knowing about it. Not even Loona.

Blitzo had selected a low profile bar, figuring it would be the best place to talk without disturbance. Fizzarolli was famous after all and Blitzo had made a name for himself among sinners more or less for the job he did. Another less flattering title he'd earned recently was that of a homewrecker. And he wasn't feeling like being heckled by some uptight demon that might look down at him anyway just for being an imp. It was worse to be labeled the object that had led to the dissolution of the Princes' marriage. That was a whole other mess of problems he didn't want to think about. Which was why he had chose a bar to begin with. If he was about to talk about some of the deeper things he harbored, he was going to need a few drinks to get through it. There were reasons why he tried to bury all of things after all. And it was because he never thought he'd have a real chance at making amends.

Once seated, he checked his phone again anxiously while his other hand resided around the last drink he had ordered. Already on his second. Red eyes moved towards the door, wondering if he had maybe gotten his hopes up for nothing. Would Fizz really show up to a place like this?.

Plotted starter for @fizziifrxg

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Christmas is for Friends and Family

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: When you tell Rick that you don’t do Christmas because it is a time for family and friends, neither of which you have, he makes it his mission to prove you wrong.

Word Count: 1510

TW: Fluff, Alone for Christmas, Found Family, Language

“Hey, Flag. Whatcha working on?” you asked as you casually sauntered into your partner’s office.

He glanced up momentarily from his computer then refocused on the screen. “Tryin’ to get these reports done so I can go home. I can’t believe Waller is making us work late on Christmas Eve.”

You plopped down heavily on the edge of his desk and grabbed a handful of candy out of the dish just next to your knee. “Seriously? That really surprise you? She’s like the Grinch, Scrooge, and Krampus all rolled into one.”

“Better be careful, if she hears you talking like that, she’ll never let you leave.”

“I don’t care. It’s not like I have plans.”

“Oh, come on, darlin’. It’s Christmas Eve! You can’t tell me you don’t have something planned.”

You tried to look as nonchalant as possible as you said, “Nope. I don’t do Christmas. Christmas is for friends and family. And I don’t have either.”

Rick looked slightly hurt. “I’m your friend.”

You popped another candy into your mouth. “No, you’re my coworker. You have to like me for the sake of the team. I meant people who I hang out with outside of work. Who actually thinks about me once they walk out those doors at night.”

You thought you heard Rick mumble something that sounded suspiciously like “I do think about you…all the time” but you brushed it off as wishful thinking. “No, I’m going to do the same thing I do every Christmas. Sleep in, spend the entire day in my pajamas, and eat three day old leftovers while I binge some crappy tv.”

“So, is that why you’re still hanging out around here even though it’s pretty obvious you are done with work?” Rick scoffed. “You just don’t want to go home to an empty apartment all alone? That’s just sad, darlin’.”

You knew he was kidding around, but the retort hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. You stood up abruptly from the desk. “Listen, I was going to offer to help you finish your paperwork in the spirit of holidays and all that, but just forget it.” You stalked to the door as Rick tried to sputter some sort of apology, but you ignored him. Just before you left the room, you spun around to face him.

“Merry Christmas, Colonel Flag.” Then you slammed his door shut loudly.

As you stalked down the hall to your office, you mentally kicked yourself for overreacting. Rick was probably the closest thing you had to a friend either inside or outside the walls of the prison. And the playful back and forth banter was just how the two of you joked around. But ever since your mom died, it had just been you on your own. And you liked it that way. However, sometimes on nights like tonight, the loneliness and isolation hit you like a truck. You had dedicated all your time and energy into your career but what did that leave you with at the end of the day? A one-bedroom apartment and some leftover Chinese take-out.

You sighed as you grabbed your keys and bag from your desk. Turning to leave, you were startled to see Rick standing in your doorway. Part of you wanted to rush over and give him a huge hug, to say how sorry you were for being a brat and storming off. But the part of you that was still hurt by his words was stronger. You pushed past him, jerking your arm out of his grasp when he went to stop you. He tried calling after you, but you just yelled, “I’ll see you on Monday” and kept going.

When you got to your car, you threw everything into the back seat and climbed in. It was only then that you let the first tears stream silently down your cheeks. Once again, you had been given the chance to make things right, and you had thrown it all away. And you wonder why you don’t have any friends.

A knock at your door woke you from your deep slumber. Groaning, you rolled over to see the clock showing 5:48. What the hell! Even on workdays, I don’t have to get up before 6. Whoever that is better just fuck off.

You didn’t hear anything else for a moment, so you snuggled back under the covers and tried to fall back asleep.

BAM, BAM, BAM. You shot up in bed as your front door rattled from the force of the knocking. Grabbing your bathrobe off your chair and your gun from under your pillow, you hurried down the hall. Reaching the front door, you peered cautiously through the peephole, gun raised. But you lowered it with an aggravated sigh as you saw the familiar Colonel on the other side.

“What the fuck do you want, Flag?” you yelled through the wood.

He pressed his face against the other side of the peephole, smiling broadly. “Merry Christmas to you too! Let us in, this hallway is freezing!”

“Then leave! I told you I don’t do Christmas!”

“Well, you do this year. Now let us in!”

You finally realize what he just said. “Wait…. who’s ‘us’?”

Unlocking the door and cracking it slightly, you were promptly shoved out of the way as it suddenly slammed open, and Rick and the entire squad burst into your apartment. You stared openmouthed as each of them filed in with armloads of decorations, food, presents, and lights.

You turn to Rick in astonishment, “How…What…?”

He beamed back brightly, throwing one arm around your shoulder. “Waller’s out of town so I was able to pull a few strings. Everyone’s got to be back by tonight, but I figured none of us should be alone for the holidays. Especially not when there are people who care about us that would love to spend them together.”

You watched as Harley organized the presents, Boomer frantically struggled with a box of tangled lights, Abner fiddled with your oven, DuBois and Lawton argued over the best spot to set the tree, and Cleo controlled a hoard of rats into stringing garland from the ceiling.

You were speechless. The tense ache that had been throbbing in your chest since last night slowly began to fade. You looked up at Rick through misty eyes, “I don’t know what to say. Especially after how I stormed out last night.”

“Ah, it’s okay, darlin’. I took it too far and I shouldn’t have teased you about being by yourself. I mean, I’m one to talk! Before I thought of this, my plans for today were eating a microwavable pizza while I reorganized my gun safe!”

You could feel his deep laugh reverberating throughout your body. It felt so comforting and safe, that you couldn’t help but lean your head into his chest. He glanced down at you and smiled, before murmuring in a softy voice so only you could hear, “Hey, I know this job can be tough. And there are times when you feel alone or isolated. But I’m here for you, always. You are so much more to me than just a coworker. You are the best partner and friend a guy could ask for. And I’m sorry if I never said that before.”

“No, I feel the same way about you. I don’t know why I said that last night. You’ve always been an amazing friend, Rick. And I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise. And this?” You motioned to the chaotic merriment throughout your apartment. “This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.” You rolled out from under his arm to stand chest-to-chest facing one another. Then you wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at his face. “But I do have one question for you.”

He ducked his head lower until it hovered just above yours. “And what’s that?”

Lowering your voice, you whispered, “Did Cleo bring those rats with her or were they already in my apartment?....You know what, I don’t want to know.”

Rick chuckled again as he pulled you closer against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your back. You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything else, Harley popped up holding a wilted piece of parsley over your heads.

You eyed her curiously. “Uh, Harls…. What are you doing?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t find any mistletoe. And I figured neither one of you would ever make a move on your own so…” She shook the pathetic plant for emphasis.

Rick and you quickly exchanged an embarrassed look but then he stared deep into your eyes. “It might not be the real thing, but it is a tradition.”

You smiled coyly back at him. “Colonel Flag, are you asking if you can kiss me?”

He blushed slightly as he muttered, “Well, you know… the mistletoe... and only if you want to.”

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him down towards your lips. “You never needed an excuse to do this.”