#dwight fluff

[michaelscottsbreakroom]

Uptight – Jim Halpert

This is just a little cutesy one-shot with our favorite golden retriever: Jim Halpert. I think he needs more writings done with readers or even Pam. Honestly, it would just be fun to read about him more. I kinda wanna do a part 2 on this... idk... I hope you like it!!

Everyone knew Jim Halpert. Jim Halpert knew everyone well enough. He talked to people, smiled and laughed with them, and pranked stuck up asses.

Well… except you…

You were uptight, in a work way. You never slacked off, only took off when you were sick. Which was never.

You sat with Jim and Dwight, usually typing and helping clients set up their paper orders.

Jim thought you were beautiful. So average, so basic, so perfect. Sometimes, he would wonder to himself, as he glanced at you, how different would you act outside of work?

His small friendly crush was a secret to everyone, especially you. Jim knew I’d you found out, his life, with you, would be over. Forever.

Today was a normal day in the office— you working your ass off while Jim annoyed Dwight a little by talking louder than usual.

It annoyed you as well, but you didn’t say anything.

“Anyways” Jim said to nobody on the phone, “I cannot believe that that happened!” He half yelled, making you sigh.

Jim glanced at you, his face falling. You were annoyed. He could tell by the cute frown on your face and the face you were chewing your gum a bit harsher then normal.

“I have to get back to you,” he said quietly, glancing away, “bye,”

Although it was a fake call, he set the phone down.

Glancing over at you, seeing that you were already staring back at him, made his heart flutter softly.

“Thanks,” was all you said to him, the first thing you said to him since yesterday, and soon, the receiver was up to your ear from an incoming call.

Jim felt his heart warm at your cold statement. You were like a cat, he was like a dog. How funny.

——

The rest of the day went by smoothly, in your opinion. The room had finally been put at a comfortable temperature, since some people liked it colder than others.

You looked at the clock and hummed. Exactly five, so you got up and grabbed your old red leather purse and the cardigan you brought.

Without saying goodbye, you pushed in your chair and left the office, hearing scrapes from other people’s desk chairs as they left.

Leaving the reception, when you stepped out the rain that was forecasted earlier had come ten times harder than told in the weather news this morning.

Your umbrella was in your car, which was across the street.

“Oh my gosh…” you whispered angrily to yourself, watching the cloud.

Jim walked out a few seconds behind you, seeing that you were trying to drape your favorite cardigan over your head, now looking rather annoyed.

He could help but smile, seeing he could be the knight in shining armor.

“You want me to walk you?” Jim said to your right. You looked up slightly to see the sweet smile of Jim Halpert, holding a black umbrella in between the two of you.

You hummed, looking down to hide a smile. “Yes, please,” you whispered shamefully, “I didn’t know it was going to rain this hard…”

Jim laughed. “Nor did I. This is Michael’s umbrella,”

You gasped, your eyebrows furrowing. “Jim!” You said, about to tell him off.

With the happiest laugh you heard, Jim started chuckling, showing off his cute lopsided smile.

A warmth bubbled in your stomach, your heart beating ever so much faster.

“I’m just joking,” he said cheekily, “let’s go,”

The two walked in silence, you blushing like mad, Jim smiling like a goon. It was cute for the cameras to record.

Michael watched through the blinds with the cameras, sighing.

“Office romance: the sweetest kind of romance, in my opinion."

[bombuni]

i think about this jongho a lot. Like it’s so coworkers to lovers. He’s so totally the-excuse my outdated and cringe language-tsundere type who acts like he does not gaf about u and gives u a hard time but actually he brings u coffee every morning, the exact way u like it, and leaves it on ur desk and when u try to bring it up he just goes ‘i think that’s ur imagination ..’ <333

[serialkilluh1996]

Anyways, Simon dressing up as Dewey from SCREAM since their last names are Riley. Your almost surprised he didn't go as Ghostface considering his callsign, but it's worth seeing him in a more tame uniform with the bonus of seeing his face more.

[mlmxreader]

All That's Holy | Dewey Riley x m!reader (🍋)

summary: Dewey's been waiting all day, and you haven't stopped thinking about him all day.

tws: anal sex, masturbation, swearing, religious imagery, Daddy kink

MINORS DNI

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Home alone, Dewey hummed as he flicked through the channels on the television, looking at the open window every now and then; it was so childish and silly, but even though you had a key to get in, you still crawled through the window. If only just to see him smile.

He was just waiting, wondering what type of mood you would be in when you saw that he was shirtless, just in his boxers and spread out on his bed; he hoped that you would be up for a little fun, but he wouldn't mind if you weren't either. He finally settled on a channel showing the old war films, when his wish finally came true.

You looked great, wearing one of his shirts with only the lower half of the buttons done up; his eyes went wide, breath hitching in his throat as he watched you take your belt and shoes off. All too eager to welcome you as you moved to straddle his waist, too eager as he gripped your thighs and brought you as close as he could. A chaste kiss here, a soft bite of your lower lip there, a buck of the hips here, a quiet groan there, before you pulled away, grinning from ear to ear.

"Fuck, I've been thinking about you all day," you breathed out, trailing a hand down his chest. "Couldn't get you out of my head."

Dewey smiled, his grip on your thighs tightening as he moved to pepper your neck in kisses. "I've been waiting for you… I missed you."

You wanted to say that you felt the same but when he snuck his hand between your legs and started to palm your cock, you couldn't help but to allow the moan from the back of your throat to cut you off, grinding into him as you growled his name softly; still kissing your neck, Dewey moved to pin you beneath him, his free hand coming to your torso and struggling to get the buttons of it undone.

You laughed softly, pushing him off of you so that you could do it for him; you didn't waste time, throwing the offending garment aside before getting out of your jogging bottoms and kicking them off of his bed. His mouth was soon on yours again, soft and quick kisses all open mouthed and needy as you pulled him on top and ground your hips against him; you needed to feel him, needed to be given that release that only he could give you. Aching for it.

"I'll be back," you murmured against his lips. "But I need you to fuck me, Dewey."

"Go," he whispered, smiling as he moved to lie on his back. "I'll be waiting."

You couldn't stop grinning as you grabbed the bottle of lube and started to apply it to your ass, watching with a dry mouth as Dewey stroked his cock, soft mumbles of your name coming from the back of his throat; you hurried up, and once you were sure that you were ready, you got back on the bed, and straddled him again, your hands on his chest as you swallowed thickly.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," Dewey nodded, licking his lips. He moaned your name when you took his cock, biting at the inside of your lip as he waited for you to move; on edge as he gripped your thighs so tightly, his mouth going dry at the sight of your hard cock. You were so tight, so warm. Fuck. "C'mon, baby, move for Daddy… please?"

You put your hands on his chest and started to bounce your ass on his cock, making him growl as he bucked his hips; you were fucking holy, he was convinced of it. A slight taste of the divine every time you whimpered, softly begging for him like a sinner asking for forgiveness; begging for just the smallest piece of sanctuary, of divinity and for repentance.

Heaven could not help him, he would be more than happy to lose himself and to drown in your divinity; the smell of your sweat, the feel of your hole around his cock, the feeling of your hands on his chest. Fuck. He moved his hands, gripping into your hips so hard that both of you knew that there would be bruises; soft prayers of his name leaving your mouth.

The call of an angel. He was cleansed of his sins just by hearing you call for him; everything, from his body to his soul, was yours for the taking. You were his midnight Messiah. The saint that he would turn to, the saint whose glory and whose heavenly touch could rescue him. Heaven was a place on Earth, Dewey knew that much, and he knew that his heaven was when he was with you.

When you went down on your knees for him, it was enough to give him something to believe in, but when you rocked your hips and allowed him to buck his hips into your ass, he found more than religion; he found a saint, a Messiah.

Fuck.

"Just like that, baby," Dewey breathed out, a soft and sweet prayer littered with gentle moans. "You feel so good, you're doing so well for Daddy."

You were panting heavily, his divine saint coming undone just for him, whimpering and moaning his name as you continued to work your hips; his Messiah. "Fuck… I don't think I'm gonna last long, Daddy."

"That's okay," he nodded, bringing your hand to his mouth and softly kissing it. "Fuck, you feel so good, baby."

He would never desecrate you, never take your name in vain, never sell his soul to another; you were all that was holy, all that was divine, you were the one thing getting him so close to seeing heaven for all it really was. The back of his head hit the pillows as he moaned your name, begging for repentance and forgiveness; for you to cleanse him of every sin.

He was so close to touching the gates of heaven, and when he felt your cum on his chest, the sweet prayers of his name that left your aching mouth, he couldn't stop himself, and finally reached the gates that he was searching so desperately for.

"Please," you whimpered. "Daddy please, fuck your cum into me."

Fuck.

The beg of an angel, that which was truly divine and holy.

How could he ever say no?

He didn't stop fucking your ass, not until he had cum inside it yet again, and only when he knew that you had both had enough did he stop; full of bliss, Dewey watched as you got off of him and grinned.

"Fuck," you breathed out. "Dewey, I love you."

He nodded, breathless as he smiled back and licked his lips. "I love you, too… but, maybe we should shower."

You knew what that meant, and bit the inside of your lip as you nodded. "Sounds like a plan, Deputy."

Fuck.

Dewey really did love you.

[morwap]

𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃

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♡ - smut REQUESTED BLURBS•DIALOGUE!

➸ nothing written for dwight yet! but i’m working on it check blurbs there might be something written or send a request!

[phonkscribes]

The Sous Leader

As one of the first survivors of the fog and the self appointed leader given his knack for laying low and knowing how to survive, Dwight would probably have a problem with a strong and confident person who’s a natural at leadership.

You don't avoid eye contact, you speak clearly and directly when addressing your fellow survivors. You can coordinate the team better than he can, and at this point the only thing he has going for him is his seniority over you. It's just as it was back then as it's going to be now, Dwight Fairfield pushed off to the side as someone better than him takes over. That's what he thinks anyhow. He catches you when it's just you and him, wanting to talk about the roles that they have to play and how he's the 'captain' of their little group. He thinks to himself, who decided that? Jake was the loner, Meg didn't give a shit, and Claudette was being nice... probably?!

He's surprised when you aren't mad or annoyed by him. You see how he feels like he's on the outside looking in, not that you're going to step down by any means. While leading a group of people is what you're good at, you're not bad at taking orders either. A second in command, that's just what he needs. A little support goes a long way, and while not entirely sure of your agreement to let him do his thing, he notices the small things you do to help. If another survivor interrupts him while he's laying down the game plans, you cut them off and redirect the attention to Dwight. If they're arguing while things have gone to shit, your voice carries loud enough to bring everyone to their senses.

Someone having his back is all he ever wanted, tired of being the little guy who's treated like dirt. You sticking up and out for him makes him weirdly fortunate to have met you, just maybe not in these circumstances. Dwight looks out for you when he's sent into trials, hoping to find you through the Fog when the mist clears. When he feels himself on the edge, he thinks of you and what might you do if in a similar situation. He thinks of how you might act or guide the others, what you words you'd even say come to mind. When he steps through the woods to find himself at the campfire, he's so eager to find you to tell you how it all went and how he got through it together with the team. It's the fact that you bothered to listen to him at all means the world to him.

Out of everyone, he's probably the fondest of you.

[whogirl2011]

Lost and found (the road trip) | Dwight X Gretta | One shot | a little over 3.8k words | Rated: T for light romantic themes and kissing.

A Dwight in shining armor Fanfic

Summary: After graduation Dwight and Gretta go on their first ever roadtrip together to see places outside of Woodside.

This was made for @shiningsmoochweek a prompt week of favorite couples in Dwight in shining armor set up by the lovely @dwightinshiningarmorfan. It might be a little late but I'm happy to get this one out there. 🥰

Nana was doing a once over with Dwight, taking note of the few duffle bags and other items he was busy rearranging in the back seat of his recently acquired SUV. He opened the front door of his car, leaning over and checking for possibly the tenth time in his glovebox that he had his registration, insurance information, and a road map with a pack of multicolored pens. 

It was a plan for after they’d graduated. Dwight wanted to take Gretta to places neither of them had been–which, for both of them, turned out to be a lot. He was a small-town boy from Woodside, never experiencing the open road for himself full of bright lights, highway signs, and traffic so busy it could take any destination they chose and turn it into miles of moving inch by inch.

Gretta had never seen famous landmarks across the nation like the depths of the Grand Canyon in the Arizona heat. She had never been surrounded by palm trees instead of great oaks with sand between her toes, looking out into a steady ocean, the waves lapping at her calves. 

This road trip was going to change that.

“I think that’s everything,” Dwight said, coming out of his maroon vehicle, assuring his grandmother with a smile. She pulled him into a tight hug.

“Make sure you stop every few hours for a  stretch,” Nana told him. He opened his mouth to say something while still being held, but she continued, “And don’t try to drive more than eight hours in a day if you can.” He pulled back and nodded, attempting to speak again, but Nana carried on, “And make sure you check in from time to time to let me know how things are going.”

“I–”

“But not if you’re driving and need to keep your eyes on the road.”

“Got it,” Dwight blurted. He understood why she was being like this. Nana, after all, had been his sole guardian since losing his parents when he was only a toddler. He wondered if her worry for him was similar to when they had left for Alaska. The thought made him hug his Grandmother tightly one more time.

“I’m gonna miss you honey bear.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he spoke warmly, rubbing her back, “I’ll call you later when we hit a pit stop.” They released their embrace when they heard Baldric’s voice.

“And you remembered your tooth-cleaning brush?”

“Yes,” Gretta confirmed, following before they appeared from around the corner with Hexala and Chlodwig in tow. She was carrying a bag over her shoulder made of cloth enwrapped by rope. Chlodwig had a quiver over his shoulder, filled to bursting with arrows, and held a bow in one hand. Baldric had another bag made of cloth tied together with rope that looked much heavier than the one Gretta was carrying. An axe and multiple sheathed swords were tucked under his arm, clanging with each step.

“Nope! Hold up!” Dwight raised a hand with his palm out, gesturing a stop. “There’s no way you’re putting all that in my car.” Baldric dropped the weapons and the bag of armor at the curb giving out a huff. Chlodwig rolled his eyes, laying down the quiver and bow. “We’re going on this road trip for some sightseeing, not driving into battle with an army.”

“Wha–” Gretta began to argue, dropping the bag hanging off her shoulder beside the car.

“You can bring one sword.” Dwight put his pointer finger up. “One.” He dropped his arm and shook his head, picking up the bag that Gretta had set down, and leaned into the back of the car to place it on the backseat.

“One?” she mouthed, brows furrowing, looking down at the weapons on the ground. Gretta shrugged at the magician and prince and crouched down, pulling the array of swords from their scabbards to check them over.

“Here, Sir Dwight,” Hexala spoke, appearing at Dwight’s side as he came back out. She pulled a tall, narrow glass bottle from her bag. “Take this.” 

The cork in the top was sealed in by melted wax that dripped down the neck and shoulder. The knight squinted, looking closely into it. There were small rocks at the bottom and various dried herbs stuffed in with purple and silver powder sprinkled throughout.

“Uh, thanks?” he said, taking the bottle and rotating it around in his hands. “What is it?”

“It’s for good fortune on your travels.”

“Oh!” Dwight glanced over to where Gretta stood. She was holding a sword in each hand, studying them with her court magician and cousin. He let out a nervous ‘heh’ and nodded, quickly raising the bottle in thanks. Tucking the bottle in the back pocket of the driver’s seat, he knew he could probably use all the luck he could get. He checked his watch and spoke while exiting the car’s interior, “Come on Gretta, we’re burning daylight here.”

“Quickly Sir Dwight! What sword would you choose to bring along for our adventure? This one? hm?” She held one up and then the other. “Or this one?”

“I suggested she go with that one,” noted Baldric, pointing to the sword that had a circular arc curving upward on the guard, the sphere on the pommel was nestled into another arc facing the opposite way.

“And I that one,” added Chlodwig, pointing at the sword with a crescent moon framing the blade’s base. The pommel was another crescent moon, mirroring the guard.

“Anyone else wanna throw in their two cents?” asked Dwight, looking over towards Hexala and Nana.

“I think I'm gonna stay out of this one honey,” replied Nana. 

Hexala nodded her head in agreement next to her. “Swords aren’t this witch’s forte.”

“Well, Sir Dwight? Which one do you prefer?” Gretta raised the swords up again so he could look them both over.

When he took in the way she eagerly awaited an answer, the realization dawned on him how significant this decision was for someone like her. He couldn’t simply pick one at random just because he was beginning to get impatient. This was Gretta’s sword they were talking about–the very thing Gretta took pride in choosing whenever they’d faced danger during an adventure or while they were on a quest. And they were about to embark on a brand new adventure together. Just him and Gretta. 

Not only that, but a sword wasn’t just a weapon to the Princess. Sure, it was something she’d used to fight with for her own survival since she was little, but it also held sentimental value. It was a reminder of home, a comfort she’d beheld since she was two years old. In a way, it was kind of like Dwight’s stuffed sock monkey, Mr. Mooks. Was it practical to compare a weapon to a cuddly toy? No. Was he going to reveal to anyone, especially Gretta–he had Mr. Mooks secretly stashed in his bag for the trip? Also, no. 

“Sir Dwight, daylight is burning,” Gretta stated, using his own words against him. Now he was the one stalling.

“I’m thinking,” Dwight replied. “Which of these swords has helped us out of a bad situation before?” 

“Both,” she answered, holding them up proudly with a smile.

“Kay…” Dwight trailed, “Well, which one belonged to your grandmother?” 

“Both.” 

“Alright, just–get them both in there, then,” he told her, jabbing a thumb behind him towards the car. She smiled giddily, sliding the swords back into their scabbards, and wrapping a belt around one of them. She kissed his cheek, holding the swords closely to her chest and she was off to pack them into the car. The girl could be absolutely impossible and exasperating at times, but he couldn’t help the smile curving his lips now when he looked over at his Princess so happy.

Chlodwig approached next as Gretta rejoined her knight. The prince reached out to cradle their faces in his hands. His thumbs rested at the front of their ears while his fingers curved around the nape of their necks. “Do not forget to send me something amongst your travels to share with our guy club assembly.”

“Don’t worry buddy, we’ll send you a postcard from the road,” Dwight said smiling at him

“Safe journey, dear cousin Gretta, dear brother Dwight.” Chlodwig put an arm around both of them and pulled them in closely. The Princess patted her hand against her cousin’s shoulder. Chlodwig let them go and nodded quickly when there was a sudden gruff clearing of a throat. He backed away as Baldric approached them.

“Everything ready?” The magician asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Baldric placed his heavy hands on top of Dwight’s shoulders “Safe journey, Sir Dwight.” Suddenly, Dwight was pulled in for a bear hug, lifting him up off his feet, practically squeezing the air out of him. “Promise me, you and the Princess will return safely.”

“Will. Do. Prom…ise,” Dwight strained. 

Baldric let him go and looking at Gretta, he bowed his head. “I will keep you informed should any important matters arise in your absence.”

“And I shall keep you informed of our well-being during our travels.” Gretta raised her hand towards him where Baldric held it in between both of his. “Please take care of yourself and the kingdom while we are away.” 

Baldric nodded, releasing her hand after saying, “As you command, Your Royal Highness.”

“Upon our return, we shall share many pleasant tales, self mes, and spritely songs of our journey.”

“I’ll bring you back some souvenirs big guy,” added Dwight. 

“You must return home safely, Highness.” his eyes grew softer.

“Baldric, you mustn’t worry.” she placed a hand against his cheek. “With Sir Dwight and his high-bred steed to protect me on our travels, I shall.” Gretta hugged the large man, standing on her tiptoes. She breathed in deeply, attempting to fight the tears threatening to form as she inhaled the scent of his magician’s robe.

“Safe journey my child.” The words made Gretta hug him tighter. After a few moments, she released her embrace and nodded towards him, determination on her face.

When they made sure everything they needed was packed in the car and they were ready to go, they climbed into the car and put on their seat belts. Dwight started the car and they waved yelling farewells with the windows down before turning out of the cul de sac. 

As they drove through the familiar streets of Woodside towards the edge of town, Dwight had found it easy to breathe in the summer air. But with it being only him and Gretta in the car, nearing the sign ‘Leaving Woodside’, he could sense the atmosphere around them already starting to change. It was charged with electricity and anticipation, not knowing where this adventure would take them. 

Gretta turned to look behind them, her eyes on the opposite side of the sign welcoming people to their hometown. It became smaller and smaller as the distance grew. She turned back around, looking down at her hands in her lap before the sign could disappear completely from view. A hand came down and tapped the top of hers. It was a comfort, a reassurance that regardless of what fate had in store for them during this newfound wanderlust, he would be there by her side. 

“Do you believe everyone will be alright while we are away?” Gretta asked.

“They’ll be fine.” Dwight glanced over with a smile. “This is going to be a new experience for all of us,” he spoke, squeezing her hand, “but that’s a good thing.” 

A smile spread across her face, “I look forward to this new experience with you, Sir Dwight.”

With his eyes still on the road, he brought her hand towards him, kissing the top of it. “I’m looking forward to this with you too.”

He tried to keep travel similar to their smaller journeys the best he could in what Gretta called his trusty high-bred steed; it was a hybrid SUV. The windows were partially rolled down, and music played from the car stereo. Dwight hummed to songs from his playlist, tapping along to the beat with his thumbs on the steering wheel while Gretta would tap her thigh or use her foot to tap at the floor mat under her feet. She was familiar with the spritely ballads he listened to, catching lyrics of love, adventure, and becoming someone’s wildest dreams.

For hours, the scenery changed and passed by. Woods with tall trees were to either side of them, fading into flat plains of grass with rolling hills in the distance. On vast fields of farmland, cows, horses, and sheep roamed and grazed without a care in the world in their fences built to keep them safe and away from the roads. 

Driving along straight roads for miles made him more at ease to take his right hand off the wheel. Gretta would often use the opportunity to reach over and claim his unoccupied hand, entwining their fingers, or casually thread her fingers through the soft dark hair at his nape. And when they would stop at a red light, he made a habit of taking her hand and pressing his lips against her knuckles.

They took breaks at rest stops and gas stations, stretching together after sitting in the car for long periods of time. They checked in with loved ones on their beckoning devices, used the bathroom, and refueled. At a few places, the pair drew the attention of people around them, curious of their story roaming small aisles and fridge sections to replenish their snacks and water. Store clerks, on the other hand, were either complacent or friendly at their job, continuing to perform their tasks as usual, seemingly unfazed by the girl in medieval-style clothing. They exchanged pleasantries with one another at the counter and soon after grabbing their supplies, Dwight and Gretta were back out on the road.

Late into their journey for the day, Dwight and Gretta found themselves in a cozy diner, sitting in a booth, looking over the menus. The aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air and made Gretta’s stomach growl in impatience. She reached over and took a sip of orange soda from her glass to keep it at bay. A sweet lady with a smile warm and welcoming approached the couple. She wore a light blue waitress uniform and had a white apron tied around her waist. The shiny silver name tag on her uniform said ‘Sarah’. 

“So, What can I get you folks tonight?”

“Ladies first.” Dwight gestured towards her.

“I will have the chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy,” Gretta said, hooking her fingers together, and sitting up straight.

“And I think I’ll have the grilled salmon and steamed vegetables, please.”

The waitress nodded and scribbled down their orders and took their menus. “I’ll be back soon with your food.”

When their meals arrived, Gretta didn’t hesitate for a second to dig into her mashed potatoes. Their creamy texture and buttery flavor melted in her mouth and the gravy carried the essence of cooked meat. She couldn’t help the groan that escaped when she swallowed.

“That good huh?” Dwight asked, forking some of his broccoli along with some carrots to put in his mouth. 

“It is absolutely exquisite.”

“Well, we haven’t exactly had much in the way of actual meals since we left.” Dwight shrugged, taking his bite of food for the first time and closing his eyes. The vegetables were cooked to perfection, he flaked a piece of salmon with his fork and ate it. It was the closest thing to a home cooked meal he’d had all day. “Okay, not gonna lie, this is pretty good.” Gretta cut into her chicken and ate a piece, Dwight was sure he caught her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Maybe we shouldn’t eat so many snacks and actually stop for the three square meals we’re supposed to be eating.”

“I agree,” Gretta replied. “We must keep up our strength if we are to endure long hours of traveling.” Dwight nodded, drinking some iced tea in his glass. His eyes watched the lemon slice bob in the liquid.

“How’s everything?” Sarah asked, appearing at their table a moment later.

“Everything’s great, thanks,” responded Dwight, placing his glass down on the counter.

“You two not from around here?” Sarah asked.

“No, we’re…” Dwight pulled out his phone from his pocket, “About 400 miles from home.”

“Sir Dwight and I are on a road trip,” Gretta stated. Sarah looked between them. 

“You two going to some Renaissance fair I don’t know about?”

“Uh, yeah, you could say that!” Dwight spoke up. “But we decided to leave early so we could enjoy the sights on the way.”

“Oh, how exciting!” she smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you two to finish your meals. I’ll be back to take your plates when you’re finished.”

“Excuse me, miss?” A voice boomed from across the diner. A stocky man on a barstool with a coffee had his hand raised to get her attention. Sarah scurried off towards the man and Gretta and Dwight continued talking and eating their food.

When they finished Sarah came back over and stacked their plates to carry them back to the kitchen.

“Would either of you like to see the dessert menu? I can make a real mean milkshake.” 

“Ooh,” spoke Gretta enticed. “What flavors do you have for milkshakes?”

“Let’s see, we’ve got your standard chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla but I can also do a peanut butter, banana, or a mint chocolate chip.” Dwight noticed the way Gretta’s eyes brightened at the mention of mint chocolate chip.

“I will have the mint chocolate shake if you would be so kind.” Gretta bowed her head towards her.

“Would you like that regular size or sharing size?” 

“How big is the sharing size?” Dwight asked.

“A sharing size is in a bigger glass with two straws but you get some extra in the malt cup.”

“Sounds good. We’ll take that then.” she took her notepad out and scribbled the order in pen.

“Whipped cream and a cherry?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Dwight pulled out his phone and began to type away with his thumbs. “We should probably start looking for places to stop at for the night. There’s a premier inn about twenty minutes away from here. I could book us in, I mean, if that’s okay.” 

“Yes of course.” Gretta agreed, her hands secretly fidgeting under the table. “We must get ample rest if we plan to continue our journey on the morrow.”

Sarah appeared a moment later with their mint chocolate chip milkshake. The milkshake glass was filled to almost the rim along with whipped cream swirled into a peak topped by a cherry. She placed the paper-wrapped straws and the malt cup containing the leftovers of the milkshake on the counter, scurrying back off to help other customers. Dwight looked out the window at the sunset’s orange and pink hues, tapping the end of the covered straw on the counter. A light thwack of something hit him in the forehead. Gretta was giggling, about to put the cherry from the top of the milkshake into her mouth. He glanced down to see her paper straw sleeve at his side of the table. 

“What was that for?”

“It was a distraction so I could have the cherry.”

“You didn’t need to make a distraction to have the cherry, you know. You could’ve just asked.”

“True, and yet this way was much more fun,” she snickered teasingly, placing her straw into the milkshake and having a taste. Her eyes grew wide. “Oh. Sweet. Heaven.”

“Good?”

“It is simply divine.”

“Not as good as my blackberry cobbler though, right?”

“Dwight, nothing compares to your blackberry cobbler.”

Dwight grinned at that, placing his staw in with hers in the milkshake and sharing sip after sip all the while their eyes met. They spent another half hour there, deep in conversation taking their time drinking their milkshake, trying their best not to get brain freeze. Dwight paid their check, thanked Sarah, and wished her a pleasant evening. Sarah watched the pair leave hand in hand from the diner. She returned back to their table to clean up the dishes and found three gold coins sitting near the scribbled check for her tip.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Gretta’s gaze of the road passing by in Dwight’s headlights shifted to the passenger side window to take in the stars that were beginning to appear. She rolled down her window fully, dragging deep breaths of the summer night air into her lungs. Gretta didn’t seem to mind her hair getting a little windswept, watching the night sky as they passed by other cars, illuminated overhead highway signs, and exits. 

“You okay?” he wondered, hoping she wasn’t getting car sick after their hearty meal.

“No, no. Just embracing what little we have left of our first evening on this journey.” Gretta turned to see Dwight lowering his window all the way down too. The wind swept through his dark hair. The boy carried a sweetness in his eyes, all warm gooey brownies just out of the oven at night and honey hues flecked across them when the sun rose. She wanted to keep this. To keep him. Always.

He took in a breath and enjoyed this shared moment, glancing over. She had stopped looking at the sky and was looking over at him. A smile radiated from her before she turned to look back out the window.

Moments like these were what Dwight was secretly looking forward to the most. Witnessing Gretta’s bright eyes and the smile playing upon her lips; she was taking in a sense of freedom she’d never had before. It made his heart flutter with a swarm of butterflies while lightning bugs lit up his soul.

The fact that she had said yes to this idea in the first place spoke volumes. Now, she was beginning to map out her own life the way they were marking roads and places of interest from Dwight’s phone onto their folded map with circles, stars, and even hearts. She was showing him just how truly safe and happy she felt when they were together. 

Dwight really wanted to kiss her. 

He parked at the inn, beneath the warm glow of a lamppost. Their luggage was on the ground next to the SUV, forgotten. Gretta stood under the humming light, gazing into his gentle brown eyes. He cupped her face gently in his hands, brushing strands of hair behind her ears that were now all tousled from the wind. She moved slowly with him for his lips to brush against hers and when their lips met, everything simply melted away. It was the greatest feeling in the world.

And he couldn’t wait to show her more of it.

[aceviscontiswife]

Oooh, you said you'd love to do some survivor requests, so I'll deliver! How about some headcanons for how the survivor guys would act crushing on another male survivor? Feel free to write for whoever but I'd especially love to see Dwight and Jeff featured!! 🫶

Crushing || Multiple Survivors

So I really loved this idea, it just took me forever to write 😅 Hope you enjoy!

Amab! Reader. Warnings: Mention childhood trauma (Jeff), typical DbD stuff.

• Dwight never really ‘crushed’ on someone prior to being taken by the entity, so needless to say he has no idea what he’s doing. Dwight always knew he wasn’t straight, so that wasn’t what confused him; rather the fact that he felt this way about someone in a place like this.

• He’s also absolutely the kind of guy who gets stood up when he actually does like someone, so that only fuels his ‘I can’t get rejected if I just don’t tell them!’ persona.

• Dwight will probably never bring up his feelings for you unless you confess first, or he somehow forces himself to tell you how he feels—which would take an ungodly amount of time to happen, if Dwight could even manage to get the right words out.

• When Dwight finally does confess, it will definitely be very unplanned. Most likely, Dwight will tell you how he feels after you’ve both narrowly escaped a trial together. Injured, tired, and still catching his breath from having ran for so long, Dwight can’t seem to control his words as he confesses his feelings.

• Pre-confession Dwight is a stuttering, flustered mess around you. He’s never felt like this before, he can’t help it! In trials, however, Dwight is usually the first one to help you when you need it. That may not seem like much, but for Dwight, it’s his way of showing you just how brave and strong he can be.

This trial was a particularly miserable one. The killer was Pinhead, and he was showing no mercy. You had just been hooked, and like he had with the previous two survivors, Pinhead was camping you. Dwight was nearby, and even though the exit gate was right there, you weren’t sure there was much Dwight could do to get the both of you out.

You didn’t mind. You have had a thing for Dwight since you first arrived in the fog, and as long as he escaped, you’d be okay. Right as you were about to hit second stage, Dwight ran in. Pinhead had looked away for only a split second, and that was all Dwight needed to swoop in and save you. “C’mon! Let’s go!” He shouts, pointing towards the exit gate before getting behind you to shield you from Pinhead’s chain.

This was possibly the bravest thing you’ve seen Dwight do, and though you were both currently running for your life, you could feel yourself falling for Dwight all over again.

All it took for you both to escape was Dwight taking a hit for you. Now safe from Pinhead’s grasp, you’re quick to assess Dwight’s injuries. “How badly did he hurt you?” You ask, voice filled with concern as your panicked gaze meets Dwight’s. He doesn’t answer your question, instead responding with one of his own.

“You’re the one who almost died, n-not me! W-what would I have done if I lost you?” His words catch you off guard, and though you know Dwight knows you’d come back if you died, you point it out anyways. “Dwight, I would have come back—“ Dwight cuts you off.

“I know, but— I—“ The moment words fail him, Dwight’s lips are on yours. The kiss was fierce, way out of character for Dwight, and absolutely amazing. His lips were chapped and shaky, but you didn’t mind. When Dwight eventually pulled away, he can’t stop himself from confessing how he felt.

“I-I can’t lose you— ever. I… I love you, y/n. I-I know this is sudden, but I can’t hide it anymore.”

• Jeff doesn’t try to hide how he feels, he’s just… extremely good at doing so. He’s not a people person, preferring to stay to himself and away from all the action—making it seem as if Jeff doesn’t like you. He does, he knows he does, but it’s not easy for him to show it.

• There are small things Jeff will do to show that he likes you, such as painting you things, hanging out with you when he gets the chance, and whatever he can do to appear as more than the quiet, introverted Jeff you once knew.

• Much like Dwight, Jeff knows he isn’t straight. Honestly, Jeff doesn’t really have a preference. Whoever makes him feel loved, regardless of gender, is just fine with Jeff.

• Now, with all of that said, let’s get into the sad stuff. Jeff has a difficult time expressing his feelings. His entire childhood, he hid his emotions with a tough, stoic persona—something that he still struggles to shed to this day. However, he tries not to let that stop him from showing you just how much he likes and appreciates you.

• When Jeff does confess his feelings to you, it will definitely be something he plans. He doesn’t want you to sense anything other than love in his words, so he’s planning things to the smallest detail. It won’t be anything big, but you’ll still be able to see the effort Jeff put into making things just right.

You had finally been given a break from the entity’s trials. Normally, you would be sleeping as much as you could. That, or stuffing your face with as much food as possible before your trials started up again. This time was different, however. Jeff had invited you to walk with him, the pair of you now wandering through the dark forest, enjoying the much needed time away from trials.

“I made you something.” Jeff suddenly speaks up, stopping in his tracks and turning to face you. Your curiosity spiked, you watch in anticipation as Jeff reaches into his pocket and retrieves a folded piece of paper, handing it to you. “Sorry it’s all folded up.” You don’t seem to mind as you unfold the paper, your eyes widening as you revealed what Jeff had made.

Jeff had drawn the forest you were both walking through, and somehow, he had managed to bring such life to the dark, desolate woods. You were speechless, out of the corner of your eye you could see Jeff watching you for any kind of reaction. While his expression didn’t give much away, you could tell by the way he was fidgeting with a loose string on his jacket that he was nervous.

“Jeff…” You start, your lips shaping into a smile as you look up at him. You meet his gaze, simply looking into eachothers eyes for a moment before you spoke up again. “I love it. It’s amazing, I… Thank you.”

For what seems like the first time ever, Jeff smiles. It’s faint, but your heart nearly does a flip when his lips curl upwards in just the slightest. Looking at you, Jeff saw… everything. Life, happiness, everything you wouldn’t expect in a place like this. He wants to tell you, but when he opens his mouth to confess, nothing comes out except:

“Good. I’m glad.”

Cringing internally, Jeff uses what ounce of confidence he has left and cups your jaw in his hand. Expecting you to pull away almost immediately, Jeff was surprised when you didn’t and instead leaned into his touch.

“I’m… really glad.” Jeff says, his voice low and barely above a whisper. You hadn’t noticed, but you both had been leaning towards eachother, your faces now only inches apart. “Can I?” He asks, pulling back just slightly. You nod, a little eagerly, and before Jeff can say anything else…

You press your lips against his.

.

.

[theaawalker]

GAYS IN THE CONFERENCE ROOM - THE OFFICE

The Scranton branch has officially absorbed the Stamford branch, and as a show of good faith, Michael calls everyone into the conference room to explain why [Oscar] being gay is okay.

WC: 734 words

Song Inspo: I Can See You

The staff were sitting in the conference room. A beige table was set up in the center with tan chairs inside it and around it by the three, beige walls. The fourth wall had a whiteboard, inches apart from the open door. The gray carpet was well-vacuumed and the white window shades were shut. Self-explanatory, the room made for an exciting meeting.

"Oscar is a good person." Michael spoke as he paced in front of the whiteboard. "You know, it should've matter if he's gaaayy or normal," Jim side-eyed the camera, "he's a human being, man. I...," Michael sighed and grabbed his hips, "I just don't understand how people could be so hateful."

"Michael," Kevin's deep voice rose from somewhere behind Karen. "We don't hate Oscar because he's gay... At least, not all of us." The large man mischievously glanced at Angela.

"Hmph." Angela crossed her arms, Bible in hand. "I don't support that lifestyle. It's impure, ungodly, unsanitary..."

"Unprotected- that's what he said!" Michael chuckled then caught himself. "No. No! I meant that as in unprotected because they are unprotected in this country. So anything you took from that is anti-gay. Case closed."

Dwight nodded along and took notes. Andy stroked his protruded chin and squinted with pretend intrigue. Stanley did his crossword puzzles in the far-left corner. Meredith's mouth hung agape and her eyes were red, clear signs of early intoxication. Pam looked uncomfortable between Karen and Jim but said nothing. Jim condescendingly smiled and did routine stares at the camera. Erin sat closest to Michael and the door, in clear view of Karen. While Michael went back-and-forth with Angela, Karen watched Erin doodle in her notepad. Fillipeli's cheek found her shoulder and her eyes found a tranquil lowness. Amongst all the speel and chaos, nothing seemed to matter then.

"-I refuse to give my American right to practice religion. Seriously. Whatever happened to freedom of speech? My first amendmant right-"

"Second." Dwight coughed.

Angela eyed him then returned to Michael. "If you can't afford me that right, I'll just have to pray for you." She smirked and patted her Bible.

Phyllis looked at her with terror and sadness, having the displeasure of sitting right next to the blonde woman.

"Can I ask," Karen turned around to her, "what type of Christian are you?"

"Excuse me?" Angela raised a brow.

"Catholic? Mormon? Jehovah witness? Baptist? Born-again?" Karen listed off the sects.

"I'm a devote Christian, old testament." She specified, enunciating the last part. She looked around the room with a finger up, as if expecting someone to oppose her.

"I grew up Catholic. Read the Bible every Christmas."

Angela smiled a bit, then cleared her throat, lifted her chin, looked at the floor, and raised a brow. "Favorite passage?"

"Easily Psalms 139:7." Karen scoffed. "Arguably the best passage, aside from Leviticus and Luke, of course."

Angela pouted a smile, almost holding back delight and disdain for not needing to correct Karen.

"Wow, Karen, I never pegged you for a Bible thumper." Kelly stated what the room was thinking.

"That's because sinful women like you wouldn't know a real holy woman from your left elbow, Kelly." Angela spat at her, making the Indian woman gasp.

"Ryan!" Kelly called for her boyfriend's aid, but he just shrugged.

"Invite Oscar back if you want. Invite the AID's epidemic right along with him. I don't care anymore." Angela shrugged. "As long as I have this," she held up her Bible, "and my undeniable faith, I'm safe."

"From gay people?" Jim replied. "You think the book wards off gay people?"

"I do." Angela said matter-of-factly.

"What'll happen if I say I'm gay and I touch it?" Kevin asked on top of his question. "I'm not." He addressed the room. "But it'd be funny if I was, right?" He laughed throatily.

"You'd burst into flames." Dwight answered.

"Not accurate." Andy counteracted.

"Oh, how do you know, Cornell?" Dwight looked him up and down.

"Can I see it?" Karen cut him off. "It's been so long since I've held one that wasn't mine."

"Sure, Karen. I trust my fellow God warriors." Angela sneered at Jim as she outreached her black little book to Karen. Granted, this was Angela, so she never let go, but Karen did stroke it's cover.

"Whoa. Leather. Very nice." Karen complimented her.

The scene cut to Karen's interview.

"I'm also a lesbian."

[venusjaynie]

the office masterlist

jim halpert

pam beesly

dwight schrute

kelly kapoor

[itsxcowboyrocksteady]

Roblogging because appropriate lol

A Kiss at Mid-Dwight

A Kiss at Mid-Dwight: A Dead by Daylight One Shot

Pairing: Dwight Fairfield x (GN) Reader

Contents: SFW, Fluff, Just something cute

Summary: Dwight heads over to your New Year's party hoping to find a way to tell you how he feels about you. Turns out, you have something in mind.

A/N: I've been really sad the past two weeks and I literally just wrote this right now while waiting for my teammates to get back from watching the ball drop at their respective parties. So I'm sorry if it's a little sloppy >.< And I promise I didn't forget the Claudette fic. I just needed to do something for Dwight right now. It's really short this time... And, no, I'm not sorry for the really bad pun lol

💗

Dwight fumbles with the buttons on his vest as though his hands won’t cooperate. He had to redo them twice already when he missed a button hole or two. Getting frustrated at his nerves, he takes a second to breathe and do it again.

Finally! he thinks as he fastens the last one and smooths it out with both hands. With a sigh, he takes one final look in the mirror, hoping he looks OK.

He doesn’t know why he’s this jittery about going to your New Year party. Or rather he knows, he just feels really silly for it. He likes you a lot. And he knows that an invitation to a party doesn’t mean anything, but he can’t help himself from hoping.

Since you asked him, he’s been thinking of all different scenarios of how he can tell you how he feels. He knows that it might not be the best timing to do it at a party with a bunch of your friends that he’s never met, but he still keeps fantasizing about wrapping you in his arms at midnight and kissing you.

It’s all he thinks about, even though he tries not to, on the way to your place. And his nerves find him again when he makes it to your door.

You open it, and he can tell that you’re genuinely excited that he showed up.

“You look so nice!” you tell him, idly touching the collar of his button up shirt.

“Thanks!” he says, a little too enthusiastically, before chuckling nervously. “Thank you. So do you,” he adds, at a much more reasonable volume.

He’s a little overwhelmed with how many people are there, people he doesn’t know. He had wanted to try to make friends with them, both because he thought it might be nice to have some people to hang out with and to show you that he could get along with them. Now he wasn’t so sure he had the nerve to talk to so many of them.

Dwight spends most of the party on his own, or idly being a part of conversations here and there. Feeling down on himself, he starts to wonder if it would have been better to stay home and ring in the New Year by himself as usual. But he’s startled when he feels someone grab his hand, and turns to see who it is. He gives you a big smile when he sees it’s you.

“Follow me,” you say, smiling back and leading him into the living room area where people have started to gather around the TV.

He’s confused that you take him to the back corner of the room, apart from the rest of your guests. But he has butterflies in his stomach that only intensify when he sees that it’s close to midnight.

But you turn to face him, not the TV, and you put your hands on his waist, looking him in the eye like you’re also a bit nervous. Like you also feel a fluttering in your stomach. And when he places his hands on your arms, he can’t help but notice that your hands fidget slightly for a moment. And he can’t help his heart leaping at the idea that maybe you were hoping he’d kiss you this whole time, too.

No, don’t get up your hopes, Dwight, he tells himself.

You spend the last ten seconds of the year like that, looking at and holding each other. And at midnight, it’s Dwight that makes the first move and softly presses his lips to yours. As is usual for him, he has a moment of fear that he maybe shouldn’t have done that, even as he’s still kissing you. But it all fades away when he feels your hand on the back of his head, fingers running through his hair, as you kiss him back passionately.

The room is full of people who you both forget are there. All that matters is each other. You are the only two people in the world in this moment.

When you finally do break away from each other, both looking at the other with dreamy eyes, it becomes clear just how much you were both hoping for this. How badly you wanted each other.

You smile at him and break the silence. “Happy New Year, Dwight.”

He smiles back, and says, “Happy New Year,” before pulling you close for another kiss.

[astridthevalkyrie]

oh my god, bakugo's kind of my friend! | k. bakugo x reader

----> summary: You'd never dare tell anyone that he was your friend. You'd never be so bold. Katsuki agrees. He's definitely not your friend.

----> warnings: quirkless university au, video game violence, fluff n feelings

----> a/n: title blatantly stolen from the office—"oh my god, dwight's kind of my friend!"

----> word count: 2k

God, no, you’re not friends with Katsuki Bakugo.

No one is.

Yeah, okay, that’s not totally true. He’s sort of friends with Ochako, that’s how you met him. He’s actually fairly close to Izuku and Eijiro, his roommates. He tolerates Shoto, might even begrudgingly respect him. And he’s got some weird mutual-depression pact going on with Kyoka. 

But you’re not any of them. And you vehemently deny it when people ask, lest he, heaven forbid, think you’re going around telling people he likes you. You saw what happened to Neito last year when he, just once, said something about his friend Katsuki. You’re pretty sure it was the reason behind his switching majors, too, just to avoid being in the same classes with the terrifying blonde.

Sure, you’re in his apartment. Neito’s never stepped foot in here (aside from The Incident). And you’re well acquainted with the people he does clearly consider not-enemies. Earlier today, you and Momo had been out getting chips and soda for tonight. Just half an hour ago, you’d been playing blind karaoke with Eijiro, Izuku, and Ochako on Kyoka’s old laptop and mic that somehow both still had really good audio quality. Not to mention, you and Mina have had at least one class together every semester since you both started—she always races to slide into the chair next to you on every first day.

And you’re currently sitting on Katsuki’s couch, two feet away from Katsuki, playing a battle royale on Katsuki’s console.

“Behind the building,” he mutters, and you hum in acknowledgement, running to the spot he generously marked on the map.

It started a long while back. You and Denki had been playing some shitty racing game, and you’d very easily kicked his ass, leaving him groaning and flopping back onto Kyoka’s lap, where she offered no pity, rolling his head off with a light shove. As you were laughing at the display, Katsuki had taken Denki’s place on the floor, and all but demanded you pick up the controller once more.

(You’d won again. Terrified, you simply claimed that your controller must be broken before racing out of the room.

Imagine your surprise when, the next time you visited, he’d barked at you to assist him with a multiplayer, ordering a pouty Denki off the couch.)

You like playing, and you don’t have a console with as much storage back home, and you’re too broke to be buying multiple games anyways, so you don’t mind taking advantage of Katsuki’s appreciation for your skill. It’s usually a nice way to end the night, whether you and Ochako end up leaving or if you fall asleep right there on the couch.

Shivering, you bring your feet under the wool blanket you’d brought with you. You’re the only one who finds the apartment freezing. Everyone else typically sheds their extra layers, while you once hunted down Eijiro’s sock drawer to steal a pair of He-Man stockings for the night. 

“Up in the window,” you warn, at the same time he says, “Oi.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze for a second in bewilderment, before rapidly turning your attention back to the TV. He dodges the shot from the window, and then continues.

“You been tellin’ people I hate you?”

“What?” Your hands almost drop the controller, but you regain control just quick enough to roll out of the way of a grenade. “No.”

“Kirishima said Tetsutetsu told him that Kendo told him that Tokage told her that you told her I hated you.”

If you weren’t nervous, you’d tell Katsuki you were surprised he even knew all those names. “I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t friends.”

There’s an awfully long pause. You can still hear the sounds from the game, and the chatter of everyone else in the apartment—Hanta’s trying to rap?—but not a word from your couch partner. If it weren’t for the screen in front of you, you’d be nervously biting your nails or just full on escaping, honestly. Not that you’re scared of Katsuki, at least not more than one should be, but…

Well, the truth is you did see him as a friend. Or, screw it, as more than that, if those little arrhythmias you observed in yourself every time he would raise his hand in greeting when he passed you on campus were any indication. And you know it’s going to hurt—it already does—to hear him confirm the same thing that you told everyone when they asked. That you meant very little to him, in the long term.

“We’re not friends, huh?” he finally says, as more of an inquiry than you’d expected it to sound.

Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t stop staring straight ahead, spamming X to whack someone over the head with a bat. “Um. Are we?”

“Isn’t this your favorite game?” he shoots back, as though that answers your question.

“Yes? So?”

Another pause. You climb up to the roof of some building and emote pointlessly before hopping down and ducking behind a bush to heal. Katsuki lets out a mix of a sigh and a grunt, dashing across an abandoned minefield. 

“So,” he snarks, “I only bought it after you told me it was your favorite.”

Faintly, you feel the tips of your ears grow hot. Is that true? That can’t be true, can it? The timing does line up. You think it was back in the first week of October that you mentioned it, and then by Halloween you’d already played several rounds. Between that and losing to Momo in several games of pool, finals month had flown by.

But…

“I didn’t even tell you that.” Your voice comes out meek, and even though you’re in a safe space now, you’re still too nervous to turn your head and look at him. “I was talking to Shoto.” You’d even been half sure that Shoto wasn’t really registering what you were saying, with Ochako an inch away from him shrieking starships were meant to fly-y-y-y-y directly into his ear.

Katsuki grunts. “I was there, wasn’t I?”

If you wrack your memory, you can sort of remember it. He was…on Ochako’s other side? When she got drunk, she usually wanted to whack something, and Katsuki’s arm had been her victim that day, her palm smacking against his elbow at every other sung word.

The heat from your ears travels down to your neck. Over the singing and over everyone else’s conversations, was he paying attention to…you?

“I appreciate it,” you squeak quickly, wincing when you’re shot in the leg, “I mean, that was nice. Thank you. I just—I didn’t think you wanted me telling people we were friends, after what happened to—”

“If you bring up Monoma, I’ll take away your blanket,” he threatens; it makes you chuckle weakly. “You’re not that shithead. He pisses me off. You’re…you know.” You don’t know, actually. “You.”

Yeah, you’re you. You play games with him. You know his friends. You’re the only one who can try to outdance Eijiro to Rasputin in Just Dance. What does any of that have to do with…

“Do you think I ever fuckin’ carried that dick’s bag to class?”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think I had his stupid long ice cream order memorized? Pistachios, on the sides only,” he mimics, and you huff in an affronted sort of way, defensive of your topping choices. “Telling people to shut up so that I could hear what he was saying? Turning up the heat and burning up everyone in the apartment just to keep him warm? Was I inviting him to my place every two weeks just to fuckin’ watch him play Kingdom Hearts 3?”

And so, you finally look to the side. Katsuki’s cheeks are red, and his gaze is still on the television. His thumbs move furiously against the controller, and you have to bite your lip to prevent a quiet you’re really cute, you know that? from carelessly slipping from your mouth.

“But, to be fair,” you attempt, still confused, “you don’t exactly do all of that for your other friends either, Katsuki.”

At your words, he slouches into his seat more, the creases on his forehead deepening as an uncharacteristic frown—a frown, not a scowl—forms on his face. One would think you’d just told him you hated his guts. 

“Yeah.“ His glare flickers over to you for a moment. “Exactly.”

There’s a blast from the TV and a realization that hits you at the same time. 

You’re not his friend. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

The heat finally reaches your cheeks, and your mouth falls open slightly. 

Then, realizing something else, your head immediately snaps back to the screen to see that blast sound had actually been your character getting blown up. 

Your mouth falls open. You’d looked away for a few seconds at best. Which aces are in the lobby tonight?

“I lost,” you tell him, crestfallen. 

Katsuki snorts. “I didn’t.”

He keeps playing, and your cheeks don’t take any time to cool down. Instead, you stare at him while he’s distracted trying to escape the same vicious bastards who hunted you down, and you note that his face doesn’t look any less heated either. For once, it’s clearly not because he’s just getting into the game.

You wonder if that was ever the case at all, or if he just felt the same striking little jolt you did everytime you two accidentally bumped into each other while playing on this exact couch.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” The announcement comes out a bit louder than you expected. “I’ll probably head back.”

“I don’t think so.” Without breaking his eyes away from the TV, he nudges his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Uraraka’s dead on her feet, and you’re not walkin’ back alone.”

Has he always purposely caused the fluttering in your chest? “Okay, well. Izuku’s still awake, I’ll just take his bed for now.”

Katsuki’s tongue clicks in a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of way. “Alright. Put the controller back before you go.”

“Fine. Where’s the, uh…” You turn your head this way and that, looking for the little box that they all go in.

“On my right,” he offers casually, not a hint on his face that he essentially just confessed to you.

Feeling a little spiteful, you reach to the side, blanket and all, instead of just standing up and going behind the couch like you would any other day. Purposefully blocking his view of the screen as you reach over him to toss the controller into the box, you smirk slightly when another blast signals that he’s died as well.

Only to yelp when a firm arm shoves you down against his chest.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, red eyes glittering in amusement as he watches you struggle on his lap, “I lost too.”

Tokage is going to hear a very different story tomorrow. “And how’s that my problem?”

His grip tightens, fingers gently digging into the thick cloth of the blanket that’s draped over you. “I wanna play again. And I’m cold.”

There’s a small, dumb grin on his face that you’d consider kissing off if it wasn’t mirrored by an equally dumb one of yours. You’re pretty sure Katsuki’s never ever complained about the cold in his apartment. But then, he’s never complained about the heat either. If he wants to be a sauna under you, who are you to deny him? Besides, you’re feeling cold too, you might as well just take advantage of the free insulation.

From the table, in the midst of pouring something that looks like cookie batter into a bowl, Kyoka raises her brow at the sight of you, then pats Tenya’s arm and points. 

He mouths something like, “Finally.”

Face burning once more, you bury your face in Katsuki’s neck, and relax in his hold while he presses X to replay.

[holdmytesseract]

would you pls write some daryl x fem!reader where reader opts to join rick and the group at grady. maybe she helped beth&carol. reader is abt 25 ish and was a nurse.

maybe after the saviours fought hilltop, reader got shot by an arrow but carried on fighting next to carol. she calls for daryl when she passes out

Caught in the Headlights

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When you get hit by an arrow, Daryl is seemingly all your brain can think about...

Warnings: TWD things, the Saviors, blood, weapons, fluff, injuries, Daryl being a liiiil' bit ooc?

Set in Season 8/mentions of season 5!

Word Count: 1,3k

a/n: I had to change things up a lil' bit. Hope you, dear nonny, like it anyway! Thank you for requesting! ☺️

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist °☆• Echoes of Hope Masterlist

"If you wanna come with us... Jus' step forward now," the man stated with a shaky voice; definitely close to crying - but the words never reached your brain. You were too shocked at what just happened; staring with tears in your eyes at the very familiar dead bodies. It didn't have to be this way. It shouldn't have been this way.

Only when you heard the sound of doors and footsteps did you wake up from your stupor. Your eyes lifted; watching as the group who changed your life and especially the view of the Grady Memorial leave.

"Wait!" Your voice echoed across the hallway. Rick - the leader of the group as you learned, stopped in his movements, while the others continued to leave; also shocked by what just happened. Just like everybody.

He turned to face you. You swallowed nervously. "I-I wanna join you. Please? I-I've got nothing left here and... and I wish to help bury Beth." You swallowed hard once again; needing to suppress the tears.

From the first second they had brought Beth in, you tended to her; helped her to get back to health and adjust to the life here at the Grady. Just like you tended to Carol, when she got brought in as well.

You haven't looked back since.

"A-And I'd like to stick with my patient." Your eyes darted to Carol. "She'll need medical care."

Rick listened to your every word, before he started to nod. "I-I offered, so... Come." You stepped forward and followed Rick, but you couldn't help but to turn and look; exchanging a last look with your former 'colleagues'.

Maggie's 'battle cry' catapulted you back to the here and now. Hilltop. The Saviors attack. You swallowed hard and started to fire; shooting as many enemies as somehow possible. Bullets flew all around you; leaving a blood bath behind. From not knowing how to use a gun at all, you had become a very good shot over the months and years.

It looked quite good for Hilltop at the beginning, but then the Saviors started to fire back - with arrows. You quickly duck down behind one of the cars.

"Y/N, you okay?!" You heard Tara's voice call out to you from behind another car. "Yeah, I'm good!" You hollered back through the noises of screams and gunfire. Little did you know that only a few minutes later, you'd have to rephrase that sentence...

You focused again; trying to take down Saviors. Unfortunately, you neither Tara saw the approaching threat... Simon and Dwight sneaking up on - but someone else did...

"Y/N! Tara!" Daryl's voice cut through the air. Tara was luckily able to quickly jump into safety, but for you it was too late. Searing pain shot through your system as Dwight's arrow hit you. You felt how your gun glided out of your hands and your legs gave in underneath you. The last thing you saw was a blurred vision of Tara and Carol; both of your friends hovering over you, before the world around you turned black and the noises deafened.

Faint echoes of voices and different sounds pulled you back in the here and now. Slowly, you blinked your eyes open. Your eyesight was still a bit blurry and the lights of the room were blinding, but once your eyes were able to adjust, you recognised that you were laying inside a cot in a trailer. A blanket was loosely draped over your form. Your muscles felt heavy and stiff, so you decided to move them. But when you tried to shift on the cot, pain shot through your whole body. You hissed; hand immediately moving to your left side and noticing the bandage around your waist.

You remembered... The Saviors. The fight. Dwight shooting you.

"Y/N?" A familiar voice called out for you suddenly. Carol. She stepped in your field of view; crouching down beside you. "Hey, Y/N." You smiled at her. "Hey," you croaked out; causing your friend to instantly hand you a canteen with water and helping you drink.

"How are you feeling?" Smiling, you shrugged your shoulders. "Quite okay for being drilled by an arrow." Carol couldn't suppress the giggle which escaped her lips; shaking her head at you.

After what happened yesterday was your cover most likely blown. You thought having a crush on the archer was your well-kept secret. Seemingly not anymore...

"I didn't do anything weird while I passed out, did I?" Carol gave you a smile, which melted into a mischievous grin and she shook her head once more. "No, you didn't, don't worry. You just called out for Daryl."

Her answer caused you to almost choke on your water; eyes wide in shock. "Uh, wha'? I-I called out for Daryl?" "Yeah, you did. Repeatedly," Carol confirmed; still with that smirk on her lips. "R-Repeatedly?" "Repeatedly." You blushed; feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Does, uh, does he know?" Carol's lips twitched into a smile again. "'Course he knows. I mean... We couldn't leave your request unanswered, could we?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Daryl was here until about half an hour ago. If you would've woken up sooner, you'd have looked at you fairytale prince, not at me."

You blushed even more - if that was physically possible. "No need to be embarrassed. You should talk to him, you know." Your friend giggled and stood up again, "Call if you need anything. Enid should be around somewhere, too." before she left.

Your friend told you to not feel embarrassed, but oh you did. Especially because Daryl knew. God knows what you did during the time he was here and you weren't 'yourself'...

Taking another sip from your canteen, you took a deep breath and this time rolled over to stand up. You needed fresh air - and talk to the archer. No matter what.

So, you left the trailer - still a bit on wobbly feet, but it was okay. You were a nurse after all and knew what you were doing here. Or rather, what you could do and what not.

The daylight felt nice on your skin, without a doubt. You enjoyed the soft breeze in your hair and took another deep breath. Then you started to search for Daryl - not long, though...

He was just passing by the trailer; seemingly on his way somewhere.

"Daryl, hey!" You called out for him; causing the man to stop in his movement to turn and face you. His eyes widened slightly when he saw you. "Hey," he greeted you and stepped closer. "Ya shouldn't be out here, y'know?" You waved a dismissive hand and smiled. "I'm good. I feel better already." Daryl gave you a nod and shook a few wild curls out of his face. "Yeah, but a lil' more rest woulda be good. Lost quite some blood yesterday."

The word 'yesterday' suddenly reminded you why you were here to talk with him.

"I'll get some rest later, yeah? I, uh, I needed some fresh air and... And wanted to talk to you." "Talk ta me? 'Bout wha'?" You swallowed; fumbling your fingers nervously. "About yesterday... Carol told me a-and I know she told you, so, uh... I am sorry." Visible confusion was on Daryl's face. "Sorry? Why 'r ya sorry?" You blinked. "Uh, 'cause it's quite embarrassing."

Then something quite rare happened. Daryl gave you a small, almost mischievous smile. "Embarrassin', huh?" He shook his head and boldly reached out to take your hand. "I'd rather say 's quite cute." The archer squeezed your hand gently, then let go again and walked away.

As for you, you were like frozen; needing to process first what happened. But once you did, you started to smile. "Cute? He thinks I'm cute?" You couldn't help but giggle, as you made your way back inside the trailer.

Tags: @suniloli @stitchintimefan @in-this-minute @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @fuseburner @mandywholock1980 @celtic-crossbow @lou12346789 @mischief-dream @km-ffluv @crimson25 @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @sweetz1919 @erebus-et-eigengrau @marvelcasey05

[hugs-and-stabbies]

Omggg so I've had the OG 4 survivor Keychains from your Etsy on all of my stuff for years now lmao!!

And you said you like Jake/Dwight If you have done art of them I havnt seen it and I would kill to see some Dwight/Jake fluff (pun intended) if you have any. 👀👀

these are some of my fav kind of asks to get!! ♥♥ It's such a nice feeling to know you're still using the merch you got from me :D 🥺

and here's some new Dwake for you and all our fellow jake/dwight shippers out there ♥♥ I poured all my yearning into it 😩♥

[mlmxreader]

Tell Me All About It | Dewey Riley x gn!reader

anonymous asked: Hi! I hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if I could request “You’re an idiot… and I’ve always loved that” with Dewey Riley? Maybe with like the reader confesses their feeling to him after being so obvious about them and Dewey never noticed it? I hope you have a good day/night! ^^

summary: it's not easy to try and drop hints about how you feel when Dewey doesn't pick up a single one.

tws: none

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Snuggled down on the sofa, you and Dewey were quite content as you watched a horror film about an urban legend that said that after watching a video tape, the viewer would die; he was pressed into your side, just shy of pressing his face against the side of your neck as he whimpered and flinched at the film.

It made you smile, you couldn't deny it, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and humming softly; he had seen horror films before, and had even gone with you to watch The Town That Dreaded Sundown when it had played at the drive through a while back, but this one was different. It unsettled him and made him nervous, jumpy even.

Certainly it was the cutest you had ever seen him. But there were other things on your mind, and if you were honest, you didn't entirely focus on the film itself. Your head was swimming with dozens upon dozens of thoughts, and every time Dewey pressed himself that little bit more into your body, you couldn't help but to get slightly lost in them; you weren't sure if he ever even noticed.

The blatant flirtatious comments, the fact that you only ever invited him out with you and no one else, the valentine's cards, the fact that you told him that you would marry him in a heartbeat if he asked - he didn't seem to take any notice of a single thing, and quite frankly, you were starting to wonder if he ever actually would.

You waited, though, until Dewey managed to push you over in a vain attempt to escape the film, burying his face against the side of your neck as he held onto you tightly; you couldn't stop yourself, laughing as you wrapped your arms around him tightly, manoeuvring him so that the tip of your nose was just and just touching his.

It wasn't like you had not been close before, intimate even. You grew up together, you were inseparable from the day that his mother introduced him to you when you were just toddlers; physical intimacy was just the natural way that things were, had been for years and years. An arm slung over the shoulders. Resting your legs on his thighs. Cuddling throughout the night, especially when you stayed over at his house. Kisses and hugs practically constantly. You and Dewey had always, always been so close, even before you had begun to drop hints as to what you really thought about him.

Sure, some of the guys down at the station teased him for it, and he would be reduced to a stuttering and blushing mess; it wasn't like he didn't have the biggest crush on you. He had done since secondary school, and he could remember the day as clearly now as if it had only happened hours ago; sitting in the history classroom after school to get some homework done.

You were working hard, writing page after page on the first world war; you were scruffy, shirt untucked and tie halfway undone, and Dewey had never thought that he had ever seen someone so good looking. You had ink stains on your fingers from the leaky pen you had been using, but somehow managed to keep it from the pages. But then you had spared him a look, your cold and determined glare softening, and a smile coming to your lips; it was at that moment that Dewey realised he loved you, and every day since, he had realised it again and again and again.

You sighed, pulling Dewey back to reality as he blushed and started to splutter out an apology, but when he caught you looking at his lips, he swallowed hard, and let out a shaky breath; your hand trailed up to his hair, grabbing the soft dark locks as you smiled and tugged it softly. He planted his arms either side of your head, steadying himself as he brought his hand to your cheek, and softly ran the pad of his thumb against your skin. You were so warm, he couldn't help the gentle whimper that came from the back of his throat.

"Oh, Dewey," you breathed out, and the way that you said the silly nickname made his head spin. "Dewey, Dewey, Dewey."

He could have listened to you say his name like that for years and years, melting against you as he licked his lips and hummed so softly, under his breath; you were so warm, your skin was so soft and you looked so good in the low light. Voices and screams rang from the television, but he couldn't look up, knowing that all he wanted was you. All he wanted was to be with you.

"I, uh, I'm-"

"Shut up," you whispered, grinning as you dared to kiss him so harshly.

Dewey couldn't stop it, couldn't fight back the whimper that escaped his throat before he came to his senses and kissed you back eagerly; he was clumsy, a little unfocussed thanks to the burning excitement in the pit of his stomach. But he wouldn't have had it any other way, as even a clumsy and unfocussed kiss was better than none at all, and he knew he was doing something right when you let go of his hair and splayed your fingers at the back of his head to keep him close. He knew he did something right, at least.

Even if it wasn't perfect, you still had a grin on your lips when he pulled away, gently tracing his bottom lip as you allowed him to straddle your waist. You couldn't stop yourself, holding onto his hips as you let out a harsh sigh to try and catch a little bit of extra breath; you felt dizzy, and fuzzy, like you had just gotten absolutely wonderful news. Winning the lottery.

"I love you."

Dewey grinned, raising his brows as his blush turned an even deeper shade of pink and coated his nose, ears, and cheeks. "More than a friend?"

"Yes," you laughed softly. "You're an idiot... I've always loved that about you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you gave his hips a soft squeeze. "I love you, Dewey... I can't believe you didn't pick up on any of the hints that I'd dropped."

"You did?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

But you only laughed, so hard that you pressed your face against his body and allowed the vibrations to go right through him. "I love you, I'll tell you all about it later."

[carlsangel]

STUPID

carl grimes x reader

(you punch negan at the lineup.)

tags: angst, fluff

masterlist here!

Sometimes, you do things without thinking which was very prevalent during the lineup. Sitting there silently while watching Negan torment and murder your family was complete torture. Coming along on this trip wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Carl didn’t even want you to go in the first place.

During the lineup, the two of you were separated which somehow made everything much worse. You were sat between Michonne and Abraham. That definitely wasn’t the most ideal position to be in. Directly next to Abraham. You didn’t look, you couldn’t. You knew Carl had probably watched it all to make sure he’d remember it.

You thought it couldn’t get any worse but Negan decided to torment Rosita about it. You knew they had some sort of issue before all of this, that they’d broken up. But it was still cruel and just as hard to watch. Negan thought he was funny. So you clocked him in the jaw which is fair, who wouldn’t?

You were tackled and pinned to the floor as expected, you had heard the others protest while they screamed at Negan’s men telling them you’re just a kid. They weren’t planning on having mercy on you, but Negan did. He scolded you and told you there’d be consequences to your actions. You sometimes wish it was you. Glenn was a huge loss to the group, you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault.

After everything you thought you’d be given the liberty of going home with your family. But he took you as punishment. He’d told you on various occasions that you were brave. Brave makes a good soldier, so he would try and break you. Turn you into a savior, into Negan. You were under the control of Dwight who locked you in a room and basically starved you, feeding you dog food and made you suffer by repeating songs over and over. He made you spend time with the dead, and that was the next time you’d see Carl.

You saw him through a gate first, he killed some of Negan’s men and that already stressed you out to no end. You were worried about what he’d might do to Carl. You finally got to leave the dead to service Dwight and Negan once again. You held a tray of snacks for the man, it was quite humiliating to say the least. But you were able to see Carl. The look he gave you was heartbreaking. He was so worried to see you there in that state. “Why’s he here?” You ask Negan. He sort of laughed at your question. “Well the last time I checked, that was none of your business. Don’t make me take out the only eye he has.” He teases. So you stay silent, that was probably the first you’d spoken in a while.

Later that day you were able to see him two more times, once during the iron and right before he left back to Alexandria. You knew that if he didn’t have his bandage, Negan had definitely tormented him. Eventually you were back locked into your cell, but not for long because you were soon given the supplies you’d need to leave. So you do, effectively disguising yourself and escaping. You made to ur way back to Hilltop, thanks to Jesus.

There you were well taken care of, you were given a shower and real food. Somewhere to sleep. You had nightmares about the Sanctuary, about Negan and Dwight. It sounds stupid but you were worried, you’d thought about it and realized you were still an escaped hostage, they could look for you at any moment. But that didn’t stop you from wanting to see Carl. Your plan was to leave Hilltop early in the morning to head back to Alexandria. You wake up early and grab a couple things you’d need in a bag. You sneak off to a side wall and before you can start to try to escape, you hear Maggie calling you and Sasha.

You walk further into the settlement to see that the gates are opened and he’s there. Carl is there. You let your bag slide off your back and the both of you make your way to each other’s embrace, still sort of shocked. He hugs you so tightly, tighter than he ever has before. He shoves his face into your neck. “Thank god.” He mumbles against your skin. After a moment you pulled back to look at him. He looks at you a bit wearily as the last time he’d seen you it wasn’t in the best condition. He leans forward and plants a kiss to your forehead, his eyes shut as he feels a wave of gratefulness flood his body.

Soon you guys would be sitting down in Barrington house while you guys caught up. Although, he seemed to be doing most of the talking. You were very silent. “After the Sanctuary…he went back to Alexandria. People died. He took Eugene.” He explains solemnly. He looks at your face for any expression and there is none. “Cmon you gotta say something.” He examines your face and realizes how much pain you’re in.

“I just…I feel so stupid.” You mutter. He tilts his head to get a better look at you. “If i hadn’t done what I did…Glenn would be here. I wouldn’t have gone to the Sanctuary. It was bad Carl it was so bad.” Your voice trails off as tears fill your eyes, you can’t help but cover your face but all you can think of was the cell they’d keep you in, constantly being taunted and picked on.

He immediately went to comfort you, running his hand over your back to calm you down. He wasn’t sure what to say, he didn’t know how to help you. But all he knew was that you needed comfort. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly. It was almost like he was telling you that you were safe now.

Negan wouldn’t hurt you again, and he’d make sure of it. “Whatever happens next…you have to sit out.” He tells you, still holding on tightly. You pull back and look at him puzzled. “Sit out?” You sniffle, “This isn’t a game, Carl. This is war.” He breathes in deeply and considers your response, although he can’t agree. “That doesn’t matter to me…but you do.” You shake your head and stand up from the couch.

“That’s unfair. I can fight and I’m going to.” You retort. “No. You’re not. Not like this.” He demands. How doesn’t he understand? You can’t let whatever it was stop you, not now. “Is this for revenge?” He questions. You turn back to look at him with a small glare as he remained on the couch. “If that’s how you want to look at it, yes. But to me it’s justice. Not just for me… but for Abraham and Glenn.” Carl keeps quiet and looks at you intently.

“Even though what happened to Glenn was my fault.” You say sort of quietly, looking. down at your feet. Your words struck Carl hard. So he stood up and forced you to look at him, just to make sure you understood. “That’s not what happened- we were put in a shitty position. None of that should’ve happened anyway.”

You say nothing. It’s hard to feel any other way. Like it wasn’t your fault. Carl took you in his arms anyway, it was probably the most comforting hug you’d gotten since the start of it all. He pulled away from you to hold your face gently in his hands. “If fighting makes you feel better then you can fight. But you have to stay by my side. Can you promise me that…please?” His voice was gentle and reassuring, it really made you feel better.

You nod. “I promise.”

a/n: the rest of the match ups are gonna be done somewhat soon, i’m having quite bad mental health issues currently so they’re kinda getting hard for me to get through T-T

anyway mannnn 0-0 this was FUNNN it was just so depressing but i suppose that’s the point shrug THANKS FOR THE REQ ANON IT WAS BANGER also sorry for it coming out A MONTH LATER HDHDHDHD

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow