#gonna hope i used the word enigma right

[mockingbirdshymn]

giving camp camp characters a favorite song(s)

specifically camp campbell campers because i dont know enough about the other chaacters to really get a grasp of what their music tastes would be, and david and gwen are enigmas to me

preston: meant to be yours from heathers the musical. he appreciates everywhere at the end of time, too though, and the symbolism behind it. he's a big "what's the hidden meaning of this song" kinda guy. he definitely is the type for horribly romantic songs, i hear a symphony by cody fry and dramatic songs like that, and every single song from every single musical he's ever seen.

harrison: viva la vida by coldplay is his favorite song. it's probably his ringtone too. he likely listens to it on loop while doing homework. i like to think he likes the good part, 100 bad days, karma, and bud like you by ajr as well as high hopes by panic! at the disco, though. he probably really likes those songs but is the type to look into what other songs his favorite artists have made, so hes stuck listening to only those songs from ajr/panic! at the disco/coldplay.

nerris: tavern background audio music from youtube. you would think she was joking but she listens to it in their free time. just sitting there listening to wordless medevil tavern/festival music. they probably like critical hit by ghost mice too.

max: loved by fein. it's edgy but he'd blast it. he probably liked mccafferty before mccafferty turned out to be a shit human being. he likes the front bottoms and set it off too, but loved by fein takes the cake. he probably celebrated when mcr got back together, too.

nikki: doesn't often listen to music with words- it distracts her easily and she doesn't focus well with lyrics. so she usually listens to karaoke versions of songs.

neil: video game osts, minecraft, undertale, random obscure underground games, he has a playlist.

space kid: he likes whatever songs his mom likes. plain white ts, taylor swift, all of it. he hasn't branched out to many types of music other than what he's heard his whole childhood.

dolph: he's open to any types of music, but because he's literally nine years old (in my hc at least!!), he hasn't discovered many songs besides what comes on the radio in the car when he goes to school.

ered: similarly to max, she likes set it off and mcr, but she also likes rare americans (ryan & dave being her favorite) and lincoln (person who made saint bernard and smokey eyes)

nurf: i dont like him im going to add him in every one of these "giving camp camp characters X" lists just so i can make that clear. nurf hate club. eggs benefits ruined him for me im sorry

[my-name-is-siduri]

The Pet Shop Boys Video Game

You may know about West End Girls being in GTA V, or the various songs that have been included in karaoke and rhythm games. But that's just tracks included in the game, not an entire game with the central focus of the Pet Shop Boys. Surely nothing like that exists...right?

Our story begins on a late Saturday night, in a Discord voice call. @condylicious, knowing my obsession with PSB, had jokingly searched for "Pet Shop Boys video game" on Youtube.

What we found was an enigma that plagued our lives for the rest of the night. So now I present it to you, dear reader, in hopes that this curiosity is documented for posterity.

This is PSB Game (1992) for the Commodore 64.

(Full essay below.)

Part 1: Gameplay

Lucky for all of us, not only is the PSB Game available online, but it's playable right out of Archive.org! I recommend adjusting the emulator's joystick settings so that the controls work properly.

Intro

Upon loading up the ROM, the first screen we're presented with has an animated color border, the name Riff Raffs, the label Pet Shop Boys +6, and a scrolling message in the middle.

Quick tangent: this first screen that we've been presented with is a crack intro. To quickly summarize, breaking and removing a software's copy protection oddly enough has a culture around it, complete with entire teams that work on cracking programs. Not only do they remove the copy protection, but they add their own little flourish at the intro. The Riff Raffs here are one such team.

The second screen is a cheat menu, also added in by the crack team. For my playthrough I gave myself infinite lives because I'm bad at video games.

Title Screen

With all of that out of the way, it's time to start the game!

Other than the big text declaring PSB Game, there's the credit of 1992 S Pearson (we'll come back to this later), and an indication that Neil is Port 1 and Chris is Port 2. The title screen also has an extremely loud clashing noise playing over it. Listening closely though, it's a few second loop of the beginning of Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money).

I'm gonna be honest, these visuals combined with the clanging bitcrushed audio is uncannily similar to the supposed Polybius title screen. If the Men in Black show up at my door five days from now and start asking me synth-pop related questions then this is why.

The Stages

Pressing fire on the title screen starts the game. Whichever port you used to start will be the port you can play on. You can press fire on the other port at any time to have a second player join in.

Neil and Chris can move left and right. The fire button shoots up a comically large bullet upwards.

Getting hit knocks off one block from the health meter, as well as make our heroes flail their arms in distress. If the health meter drops to zero, its game over for that player. If both players lose, the game boots you back to the title screen. But I gave myself infinite health earlier so I won't have to worry about that during this playthrough :)

There are twelve stages. Most of the stages take place on this Launderette screen:

On these Launderette stages, large gray rectangles attempt to squish our heroes. They are also impossible to shoot, leaving you with no choice to dodge them. After two stages of the Launderette screen, the game changes the stage to a different screen with different enemies. It switches back to the Launderette screen for another two stages, then to a new screen, and so on until the game ends. Here are all the unique stages.

Stage 3:

It's the sleeve for the Love Comes Quickly single! Being rendered so minimalistic has somehow made Chris more ominous than he already was.

Stage 6:

A bald, sunglasses-wearing man with a shirt that says "Video Fall". I'm not sure who this character is supposed to be, but he's throwing VHSs at us. Luckily these VHSs can be destroyed with a couple of shots, one of the few things that you can actually shoot.

Stage 9:

The word UNFAIR is turned to its side, while a strange creature attacks our heroes. This stage isn't any more unfair than the other stages though, so I'm not sure what that's about.

Stage 12:

I have no idea what this is supposed to be a picture of. It's possible that since Stage 3 was a picture of Chris that this might be a picture of Neil. But it's so mangled by pixelization that it's anyone's guess really.

Ending

The game ends rather unceremoniously after Stage 12. It rapidly flickers the words "THE END". After flashing it for a little while, the game loops back to Stage 1.

Truly, the best that gaming has to offer.

Part 2: Who is responsible for this

As I mentioned in the intro, the first part of this journey began with a youtube video of PSB Game's gameplay. IMO it's not as good as mine, but it did start me off on this entire journey, to which I must thank it.

After going through every stage of grief upon watching this video, I began searching for more information about this game. I found two Commodore 64 databases had entries for the game. Here is the Gamebase64 entry, and here is the CSDb entry.

What's the title of the game anyway?

You might have noticed that the game appears to go by several names. CSDb, the original youtube video we found, and the cracking team itself calls the game "Pet Shop Boys +6". But the Gamebase64 entry calls it "PSB Game - Pet Shop Boys", and the game's title screen simply calls it "PSB Game." To confuse this further, the Archive.org file has "+6" tacked on at the end of the file name. My best guess is that the +6 part is related to the cracker team themselves? If anyone knows Commodore 64 terminology can explain this, feel free to let me know. Update: I've learned that the "+6" attached to the title refers to the 6 cheats available to use on the cheat menu before the game loads. Here is a video that explains the concept in more detail. Thank you to @dinosaurkirbys for letting me know about this, I appreciate it!

Personally, I've decided to go with the name PSB Game since it appears on the title screen.

Back to figuring out who made this

I realize it's a little bit late in this essay to point out that this game is a fan creation and completely unofficial. But uh, I thought I'd bring it up just in case.

The CSDb entry has little else other than the download link and credits the cracking team Riff Raffs (more about this in a bit) but has no credits for the game itself. The Gamebase64 entry gives us a little more information, noting the year it was published, as well as two names: Shaun Pearson. and Chris Yates.

Chris Yates is a red herring. As seen in the publishing info, PSB Game was created with SEUCK, which is an application that can be used to create shoot 'em up games. Chris Yates is one of the programmers for that application. Essentially, it's like if you credited a game made with RPG Maker as being created by RPG Maker itself.

That leaves us with Shaun Pearson.

Gamebase64 lets you search by creator. Searching for the name Shaun Pearson brings up a few results, mainly other SEUCK projects. What caught my attention was that they appear to have worked on a game as recently as 2020.

Now where this gets particularly interesting is that searching the same game on CSDb credits to user Wile Coyote instead. I'm not entirely certain if Wile Coyote is Shaun Pearson, but if they are, then they're active to this day. I'm not sure how to get into contact with them to confirm this because CSDb's forums were too confusing for me (I'm bad at technology I know), but if they are in fact the same, I think it's pretty cool to know that they're still active. If anyone can find me a way to contact them (or hey, if Shaun/Wile Coyote is currently reading this and want to contact me), feel free to reach out!

Part 3: Conclusion

As is, I think that's all there is that can be documented about the PSB Game. Before I go though, I do have a few requests.

One, if there is a physical copy of PSB Game laying around somewhere (unlikely, but you never know), I'd like to see a picture of it.

Two, if anyone knows how to rip C64 sprites, I'd love to have the sprite sheet for this game. Especially tiny pixel Chris and Neil flailing their arms.

And finally, Shaun, if you're reading this, I'd just like to say thank you so much for creating this strange little game. I had a blast uncovering it and learning a bunch about the C64 in the process. As I said, if you're willing to reach out, I'd love to hear more about this game from you!

Thanks for reading, everyone!

tl;dr weird little C64 shoot 'em up starring Neil and Chris

[simplegenius042]

WIP Music Monday

Rules: Post a song(s) that is relevant to your WIP or inspires it!

Tagged by no one, but was inspired by @nightbloodbix and @adelaidedrubman 's invitation to join in.

Tagging @socially-awkward-skeleton @ishwaris @poisonedtruth @detectivelokis @derelictheretic @direwombat @strangefable @shallow-gravy @gaeadene @henbased and @wrathfulrook + anyone else who is interested.

First Music Monday for me. And in celebration of that I've decided to overindulge and get three songs for my three blog accounts because why not.

One song for a character, one song for a past romance between OCs, and one song for a WIP. Let's start with romance for my FC5 WIP.

For my two FC5 OCs; Sylvester Silva Omar (future junior deputy of Hope County) and her first love, Irene Neon (dreaded daughter of her equally dreaded father, the "Good Doctor" Kamski Neon) from my FC5 WIP Silva's Hope from my @the-silver-chronicles blog.

Here's their romance song for anyone who wants to listen:

Our Love by Curtis Harding ft. Jazmine Sullivan

"There's a girl in town and word's gone around she's just fine So I don't worry my head 'cause I know her heart is tied to mine The life that we live and the love that I give to her Each day it grows more and more, I'm sure it shows.

...

And after all (after all), the rain will fall on us too But I'll keep moving on (moving on), proud and strong with you.

(Our love) Is a bubbling fountain (Our love) That flows into the sea (Our love) Deeper than any ocean (Our love) For eternity."

Next is a character centric song for my British robotics-obsessed backstabbing lying OC Edward Carmine from my @the-untitledverse-blog who will first appear in my WIP Jurassic World: Before The Storm (you can which fandom that belongs in) and so on as the first major antagonist of The Perfect Storm saga.

Here's a song I attribute to him if anyone wants to listen:

I’m So Sorry by Imagin Dragons

"No lies and no deceiving, man is what he loves I keep tryin' to conceive that Death is from above (No time!) I get mine and make no excuses waste of precious breath (No time!) The sun shines on everyone, everyone love yourself to death.

So you gotta fire up, you gotta let go You'll never be loved till you've made your own You gotta face up, you gotta get yours You never know the top till you get too low

...

Life isn't always what you'd think it be Turn your head for one second and the tables turn (yeah!) And I know, I know that I did you wrong But will you trust me when I say that I'll make it up to you Somehow?"

And lastly a WIP centric song for my Love Death + Robots WIP Sonya's Push from my @life-despair-and-monsters-blog where an OC of mine, Sir Enigma Malvolio, messes with and changes the story of Sonnie's Edge because he's just like that one asshole in the multiverse who can travel through dimensions to get to worlds but decides to ruin everyone's lives instead of improving them.

Here's the song I attribute to this WIP whenever I get motivation to write it if anyone wants to listen:

Can't Go to Hell by Sin Shake Sin

"Walk right in all you sinners and saints Tonight's the night we're gonna take off these chains Some wounds will never mend

It came with a warning, now we're all out of time This romance with ignorance has left us behind Sit back, relax, begin

It's too early for surrender Too late for a prayer We can't go to hell if we're already there They say the end is coming And I need to prepare We can't go to hell if we're already there."

Hope you all enjoyed.

[ariadynamics]

🌈 What research do you plan on doing for your writing?

(Also, just so you know, I'm gonna freak out if someday I'll get to read enjoltaire written by you)

Thanks, Nanna! 💜

🌈 What research do you plan on doing for your writing?

I'm verrrrry slowly adding words to the Galex WIP, and I'm at point where I actually do need to flesh out where they are and what kind of activities (PG rated ones!!!) they're doing in Greece. I have so many TKs (what I use as a placeholder to remind myself to look shit up after) dotted all over my doc. What kind of beach is nearby, the kind of restaurants and food they'll have, what the town looks like.

I also want to write a Nico/Jonas hockey rpf, outsider POV fic with Timo Meier and he's always been kind of an enigma to me. I need to do a bunch of research to make sure I get his voice right. I'm definitely hoping my Sharks fam can help 😭.

And ahhhh, re: Enjoltaire, I did NOT know you were also an enjoyer!!! Enjoltaire is SO special to me. I love reading and writing about devotion, especially the kind of devotion Grantaire had for Enjolras. Permets-tu more like I now have permanent psychic damage, THANK YOU.

--

Writer Goal Ask Game for New Year

[elvisabutler]

Let’s start with the first sentence because let me tell you as soon as I clicked the “Keep Reading” tag and began I was like oh, boy we’re gonna get right in to the good stuff aren’t we? And it’s nice to know that I was right! With only the opening paragraphs we’re able to distinguish the distance between the married couple and it’s such a great leading point for where Lilli and Elvis end up at the end of the chapter. I’m not going to get too deep into the “She’s been downright mean…” paragraph, it has been discussed in our inbox but you weren’t lying when you said it was an accurate description of Lilli’s character. Any choices she’s making and feelings she’s experiencing she never does it to be cruel or as revenge for her pent up frustration - it’s all because her husband has left her alone and has left her wanting and has forgotten what he has in front of him probably because he thinks she’ll never leave. No, Lilly isn’t mean, she’s an unhappy, unappreciated wife. I don’t excuse or condone her cheating but her merely existing in the same house as someone who pays her bills isn’t a marriage in my opinion, signatures and courts be damned. “It’s just the paunch of his stomach yanking the fabric forward … making it so he has to leave the zipper partially undone before it reaches his neck.” “… but she can see how tight it is around his legs, around his thighs. …” The easiest way to get me on your side has to be indulging into the beautiful, large physicality of Big Daddy. It truly turns me into a wanton of a woman. Lilly is me because she’s appreciating a man, a real man who will fill her womb and take care of their household while still managing to take care of her. It’s a man who can be depended on, who can live as a husband, father, and continue to be his own man. I wish I had more words to explain it but I do not so I can’t say anything more besides Lilly is appreciating a real man. “The house is empty as her womb” ALLY WERE YOU CRYING WHEN YOU WROTE THAT BECAUSE I GOT THE SNIFFLES - I MEAN, ALLERGIES - WHEN I READ THAT. The fact that he continues on to fix other issues he sees in the oven without her even having to ask and without the need to charge her for them because her company and singing in the background are enough. Do you see what I mean when I say HE IS A MAN. “There’s an element of homeliness that has him sighing while in the oven.” Immediate images of her in their kitchen, swollen with his baby, cooking his lunch or dinner while he fixes things - that’s your future Big Daddy and I promise it’s coming to ya soon (I hope.) “It hadn’t been attractive on Nathan or any other boy,” that, Lil Darlin’, is because no boy is like Big Daddy who will take care of us. I really enjoy the fact that Elvis was quick to catch on to the look of hunger on her face, he recognized it from back in the day, and now here’s this young, beautiful woman giving him that smile again and making him feel wanted again overeating and nightmares be damned. Something as simple as lusting over Elvis sweating helped to humanize his character from this mystery of “How does the affair start” to “She’s a lonely wife and he’s a simple man.” Although he remains amazing it removes the enigma that is Elvis Presley and alters him to human level. Yes, his sweat and her horniness convey all that to me. If at some point you do include Lilly licking his sweat mixed with her lemonade from his skin I will bow down before you. Elvis, God is speaking to you, there is something missing as you watch her in the kitchen - you beside her and your child in her belly. “Now that’s a woman who ought to have a passel of kids, a football team of children.” That hurts, Ally, it does. You woke up and chose pain every time you mention her want of her kids mixed in with the amazing qualities she’d possess as a mother to care and love and grow another human. And they’ve spent one afternoon together but she’s awoken the lust in him and he’s eased some of the loneliness in her and with that interaction they’ve managed to become more to each other than neighbors or church goers.

so i saved this for a hot minute because trust me bri this was a delight to read. i always try and drop people right into things if i don't do the ramble talk thing i do for a lot of fics so there wasn't another idea to start it other than you know RIGHT LET'S SHOW HOW BAD NATHAN IS RIGHT OFF THE BAT.

but god you understand exactly where i wanted to go with this. it's not just a cheating story it's- it's two people finding refuge in each other and becoming the thing they need most in the world. you understand and get it and this is why i love hearing you scream about them to me. i truly love how invested you are

also listen maybe she'll make lemonade for him again and kiss him senseless and taste that sweat. maybe maybe.

[so-much-nonsense]

the absolute enigma

what does it take? to be at peace. to get used to things. to not feel overwhelmed everytime you experience something mildly unusual. i am super tired of feeling, i wish i could stop. watching the vampire diaries now makes me so nostalgic and i wish i had a humanity switch to just fucking shut everything off. i know this lacks all kinds of context so ill get started on a few things. today i visited someone at the hospital. a specific someone who is the most important person in my life. its nothing serious but its the most serious thing. anyways, given that i have spent so much time in and around hospitals i couldnt help but assure myself that i am used to it and that its nothing new. well, turns out only one of those two things are correct. this is nothing new to me, i have been spending so much time at hospitals since i was 10. what and why can be ignore because the reasons vary vividly from very deadly surgeries to a simple token. the feeling of walking down the long and empty hallways that are dimly lit is the feeling i know like the back of my hand. looking at terminally ill humans and just walking away as my heart cripples is a yearning that comes to me as easily as blinking. BUT what i have realised today, is that no matter how many times i do this, i will never get used to this. everytime it is still a fresh, overwhelming experience. but what matters is that this person is fine and so am i. that is it. also i keep thinking about a lot of things, always, obviously. but recently ive been pondering upon how people keep changing a lot. like a lot of time i spend thinking about this is wasted daydreaming or sum shit. this is what haunts me. everything that happens inside my brain is never real enough for the world but to me its the closest to reality ive ever been. idk if i should listen to myself or literally everyone else. its also about how i never want to give up. like, tf?? will i ever be ready to give up? honestly, i dont think so. because i want this to change. i do want to give up on certain things, that is what will enable me to enjoy what i have right now. the yearning to grow and want and have more, the potential to be in possesion of the best, is simply disabling me from enjoying where i am at right now. i keep thinking about how i dont enjoy the things i have now and how i let all the experiences pass because i am hopeful that i will get to experience something better. i can tell that i am never completely present in any situation, i keep thinking i will have the best situations to be present in. heck, i shouldve already been there, i should be there now. but i am not. i am simply choosing to deny where i am right now because i am not where i want to be. it makes a lot of sense when put into words but i hate that for myself. i like to cherish every experience, low or high. but right now, all i can think is, i am commercially analysing this and im getting into all types of politics in my head. maybe the thoughts are isolating themselves to change my likes and dislikes because thats one way of grieving. i dont want this. i hate this. hence, i want to give up on my dreams. but can i ever? i really do not think soooo ughhhh. maybe thats because i keep thinking that my dreams are not really dreams, they are goals that can be achieved. and somewhere i know that if i try hard enough i will achieve them but i just dont know why im not putting in the effort. or just why i did not put the effort the first time. but fuck it. im gonna try again. what have i got to lose? where i am right now. i hate that possibility. ik its not the greatest place but there is something about this that just clicks with me. so, like i said, ill keep trying. lol. and... uh... yeah, thats pretty much it for now. REGARDLESS (the irony), what kanan said about existential crisis flows in my veins: give up your dreams, death is coming, lets party!!

[sunriseovergotham]

🎵!!

(sorry for making you put things into words lmao but it did make perfect sense and i loved reading abt em!!)

(the words were being particularly uncooperative earlier but such is life)

songs i associate with my ocs lets go

enigma to k

you try to act as if you're saving me but you wouldn't cut the rope if it was hanging me dancing with the devil - set it off

enigma

i think my fate is losing its patience i think the ground is pulling me down i think my life is losing momentum i think my ways are wearing me down but if i gave up on being pretty i wouldn't know how to be alive i should myself to a brand new city and teach myself how to die honey, what'd you take? what'd you take?

brand new city - mitski

enigma

and you think you got the cure to being bitter? but the pill tastes just as bad as the real thing so i hope you don't expect me to get better you don't think that i intend to help myself, do you?

do you? - woe.begone

enigma

if i am a wound i'm not the type to ever heal i have found the worst will drag us down but the best won't dig us up like we deserve and i have found that if you're gonna drown it's best to hold your breath starting now

givennen / hallowed - woe.begone

engima

of course it hurt, of course it fuckin' hurt it hurt like nothing in the world sometimes that i was super scared, and we were all a train-wreck and also somehow making it i think i might've died there twice, and i would do it all again

feel better - penelope scott

k

i can feel my heart breaking mistakes i've been making i'm running out of patience to pretend this isn't how i'll let it end my feigning fading

this is what happens when you leave it to somebody else if you want it done right you should just do it yourself you oversaturate your world with nothing but machines you might make everyone happy, but you're dead inside just like me and now we're here at a standstill i wonder if you feel the kind of pain that rips your insides out? that's something i know all about shocking, ain't it? we have a lot more in common than you would be calm with it's like we're the same person, me and you we both don't know what we can do

i can't fix you - the living tombstone

k

sometimes i wish i could take a new form switch out some parts and become like the norm

sometimes i wish i could lend you my voice lend you my heart and lend you my choice sometimes i hope for a savior to come who's got what it takes to convince everyone

sometimes i wish i could lend you my shoes lend you my life and lend you my truth but sometimes the truth is just my point of view not what is real and not what is true

lucky is she who lives unaware who doesn't get bothered by those who don't care lucky is she who lives unaware who doesn't get bothered by all that's unfair

unlucky me who knows way too much who fights to make changes and music and such unlucky me, aware of the pain all 'cause i happen to have some brain lucky is she who lives unaware

blow my brains out - tikkle me

k

secrets don't make enemies, but they don't make you friends can't watch myself break and bleed another second

pin cushion - siiickbrain

k

i'm only happy when i'm on the run i break a million hearts just for fun i don't belong to anyone i guess you could say that my life's a mess but i'm still looking pretty in this dress i'm the image of deception

when everything is life and death you may feel like there's nothing left instead of love and trust and laughter what you get is happy never after but deep down all you want is love the pure kind we all dream of but we cannot escape the past so you and i will never last

homewrecker - marina

k

“i do not wish the death of any living thing i might be a killer but one day i shall be queen and put an end to slaughter, but until then i’m keen on staking clam to land and sea and everyfin between”

i played a game with eleven fools who told me not to break the rules but when have angels ever helped me yet? and magic isn’t real and anyway it doesn’t matter 'cause no matter what i conjure it could not help me deflect the angry death of every hopeful thought that i might be a lover or a fighter that i’m not in someone's spider web, or net i could be caught but i’m too bitter, better off alone, guess i forgot

so what do you want me to say? sorry? should i apologize when you ignore me? i didn’t ask to be right or to be lonely or to be hatched into an ugly story

and now i think my calling is to break apart and fall to pieces better yet, invent a brand new method of ascension

i’m impressed, you’ve managed to survive but rest assured we’d all be better off dead than alive 'cause when they get a hold of us, we’ll all be batter-fried and i’m surprised that nobody’s considered switching sides

so here i am, respectfully and royally destroying any chance of getting back on your good gills and i don’t mean to be hurtful, but if yellow's the new purple well, then bleeding’s the new breathing, don’t you think i will

that i am just pathetic, i won’t be overlooked i’m past the point of fishing to get back upon your hook i’ve made a manifesto, i’ve been bested by a crook, but never more i’m planning on reclaiming what he took

ugly story // phemiec

[dameronology]

hi jazzy!! can i also request "you know damn well i would ruin myself for you a million little times" w robin please? ❤️💗❣️💖

yes robin the loml - this is implied fem reader bc of robin ofc

(also i'm sorry this is all in lower caps i know some authors do that as a stylistic choice but genuinely the caps lock key on my mac is stuck right now. not a stylistic choice and more of a "i spilled chicken soup" on my laptop sorta thing)

the air was cold from up here.

perched atop a billboard just on the outskirts of hawkins with robin beside you, the dimming lights of the tiny town glinted in the distance. every so often, you'd watch as one - a house, or an office, or maybe someone's headlights - would switch off, signalling another step forward towards a sleepless night. neither of you had spoken for a while. it was hard to find the words. what could you even fucking say?

sorry for dumping you. sincerest apologies for breaking your heart, babe, but we both saw it coming, right?

your hand was just inches from hers, pinky to pinky. normally, you would have reached out and taken in. tangled your fingers with hers and brought her hand to your lips; maybe you'd kiss it. maybe you'd just hold it, or play with her fingers and the homemade rings that decorated them; they were all varying shades of pastels, every so slightly mismatched from the chipped colours on her bitten nails.

being in love was hard. being in love with someone as frustrating as robin was buckley was even harder. she was an enigma; beautiful and funny, but so, so scared of her own feelings. she had so much love to give that it terrified even herself, so more often than not she would take it and run away. the girl would trip and fall on her way out of your life but it was only weeks before she came back. things were best during those times: when you had all of her. every last bit of her questionably sane mind, with its constant rambling and endless questions about the universe. it wouldn't last forever though - she'd slip away again after a month, maybe two. it was a constant cycle and it was tonight you'd decided that you had to be the one to end it.

"it's nothing i've done, right?" robin quietly asked. "i mean...obviously it is something i've done, because logically if you had done something to end the relationship i would be the one to instigate the dumping but just as like a final thing, maybe an exit interview, a quick review of our ill-fated dalliance if you will-"

"- robin!" you cut her off, trying to fight a smile. "no, it's nothing you've done. i just think you need to take some time for yourself to work out your feelings-"

"- i know my feelings!" she insisted. "i do. there are some things i'm unsure about, lots of things that i think i'm sure about but my feelings for you are the one thing i know i'm sure about."

you sighed, eyes flickering off to the distance. "in a few weeks, you're gonna be distant again and you'll disappear. it'll be no more than a month before you call me and i know i'll take you back because i'm spineless when it comes to you but..."

you paused. robin prodded your side, a signal to look at her.

"but what?"

"it's not fair on either of us," you gave her a teary smile. "i love you. more than anything in this stupid world, i love you. i just can't keep letting myself question whether you love me every time you run away."

"i do love you."

"i know you do," you replied. "call me when you're ready, yeah?"

she frowned, lips dragging into a pout. "what if it takes me a long time?"

"i'll wait."

hopping down the ladder, you leapt off a few foot from the ground and gave robin a small wave. she returned it, teary smile not faltering; she watched as you walked to the car, eyes following until you were on the road and off into the distance back towards hawkins.

truth was, you could have let her break your heart a thousand times. you could only hope that this time was the last time.

[thefanficmonster]

Bucket List

Lexi Howard x Fezco [Euphoria Season 2]

Warnings: Drug use (weed), Swearing, SPOILERS for Euphoria Season 2, Being High

Genre: FLUFF, Romance, Humor

Summary/Prompt: Lexi gets high for the first time with Fezco

Requested by Anon. Thank you for the prompt, dear! Hope you enjoy the imagine! Love, Vy ❤

This is a rare occurrence for the two, especially for Fez. Him and Lexi have found themselves sitting in his living room, going back and forth about a subject Fezco has never thought he’d have to think twice about - smoking weed.

“I dunno, Lex, I don’t want you doin’ some shit you might regret later.“ He complains after a long silent pause fell upon them after Lexi made her point of ‘wanting to be more adventurous‘. Unfortunately for her, he still seems uncertain which means she’ll have to continue arguing her case.

“I won’t regret it, Fez. I promise you. It’s on my bucket list so it’s gonna be fine regardless.“ She replies concretely but, much to her dismay, he’s only amused by her statement.

He tilts his head to look at the brunette girl and smirks, “Bucket list?”

Lexi hadn’t thought of how childish that would sound until he said it out loud and made her cheeks heat up with embarrassment, “Well, not exactly. Just a list of things I wanna do before graduating and going off to college.” She explains herself, chuckling at her own cringiness.

Fez, on the other hand, finds it adorable, “Yeah, I get it. I mean, it makes sense. There’s stuff you wanna do before closin’ one chapter and openin’ another. It ain’t a small deal.”

The girl playfully rolls her eyes, “Yeah, your philosophy won’t distract me, Fezco.” 

He chuckles at this, “You hard to deceive, Lexi Howard.” He adjusts his seating position to be able to face her, “What else is on that bucket list of yours?”

Lexi stubbornly crosses her arms over her chest and smirks, “Help me cross this one thing off and I’ll let you in on the rest?“ She phrases it as a question - an offer. She’s offering him a deal that he’s very tempted to take.

To him, Lexi is way more than a pretty-faced smart goody-two-shoes. He sees her as an enigma. He sees her as an open book written in reverse and in a different language - it seems standard and straight-forward but when you really look at it you realize how complex it is to understand. How many layers there are to it.

How many things there are to know about her.

Getting a sneak peak into this bucket list will have him looking at a more adventurous side of Lexi, her goals and wishes. And not only that, but by fulfilling her request of getting high with her for her first time, he’ll have a look of how different she is when she lets loose completely. That ain’t a small deal. There might be casualties if he agrees to it, but she doesn’t seem too concerned about them herself which is saying a lot.

“Fine...“ Fez sighs, almost regretting it but then he hears Lexi’s squeal of excitement and feels her soft warm lips on his cheek. That’d be enough to convince him to do anything.

“You’re the best, Fez.“ She tells him, her words genuine and honest. They bring a smile to his face, a smile so love-struck, he’d feel like an idiot if anyone else saw it. Ash would probably never let him live it down which is why it’s good that he isn’t home at the moment and is instead running the store - something he volunteered to do when he saw the girl’s bike pull up to the entrance.

Fezco knows he’s far from the ‘best’ person she could be with at the moment or at all, generally speaking. He’s worlds away from her, differentiating in so many ways it’s still unbelievable to him that they’ve ended up compatible enough to be here right now or to have met in the first place. And yet he thanks the universe and the God he believes in for it every single day. He hasn’t had many good things happen in his life so he’s sure to be grateful when he gets one although ‘grateful’ is an understatement for what he feels and has been feeling since Lexi entered his life. He’s felt true happiness, he’s felt those damn butterflies he’s heard about so many times and called them bullshit. He’s felt a feeling dangerously close to love and he’s unsure of how to deal with it. Anything that good provokes his automatic instinct to just push her away and distance himself. But here’s the thing: he can’t. And if he’s being honest he doesn’t want to either.

*  *  *  *  *

After rolling a slim blunt which took him an embarrassing amount of time, Fezco sits down next to Lexi once again. That joint is some weak shit in his eyes but when he imagines the inexperienced girl smoking it he still thinks it’s too much.

“We’re sharing?“ She asks, confused as to why the long wait and work produced only a single blunt.

“There ain’t no way in hell Imma let you smoke a whole blunt.“ He laughs, settling the small item in her hands when she stretches them out towards him, curious to inspect it further. He finds it amusing, the way she holds it so delicately, contrary to how he handles his joints.

She sniffs the smell of the weed and scrunches her nose slightly, displeased. There’s a common rule that says: ‘If something smells bad, there’s no chance it’ll taste good’, which is why the thought of inhaling a puff of smoke with that aroma and letting it travel down to her lungs disgusts her almost enough to call the whole thing off.

“See, you already ain’t a fan.“ He chuckles as she hands it back to him.

“I won’t knock it till I try it.“ Lexi shrugs her shoulders, although a bit hesitantly, “What matters is the effect it’ll have on me afterwards.“

Fez agrees that that’s exactly what matters because he’s terrified of a negative reaction which, honestly speaking, there’s only the slimmest chance for but he can’t help his concern.

“It’ll put the workaholic in you to sleep, that’s for sure.“ He says, making her scoff and presumably roll her eyes. They’ve gotten to the point of being able to distinguish and guess each other’s facial expressions and general reactions. That could either suggest a great connection and built up knowledge on each other or just something that’s a tell-tale sign of them spending way too much time together. That’s the catch though: there’s no such thing as ‘too much time‘ for them. It’s never enough. They’re greedy and can never get enough, wishing the seconds and minutes could stretch, last longer. Wish their time could warp and be formed into ‘forever‘.

Unfortunately, their ‘forever’ never lasts longer than a few hours. It’s never even lasted a full day. Fez is hopeful that’ll change today.

“I hope so. Cause I can’t get my mind off this paper I need finished by Tuesday.“ She replies watching as he flicks the blunt between his fingers before taking out his lighter.

He’s just about to light it when he processes what she’s said, “Yo, if you thinkin’ of some bullshit paper right now, I’m clearly doin’ somethin’ wrong here.”

Although he was only half joking, the result of his comment was a wholehearted laugh from Lexi which immediately brought a grin to his lips. “It’s hard not to think about when it means a lot for my grade.“ She might be camouflaging it from Fez but she’s now stalling and for no particular reason whatsoever. She trusts him and knows that a weed trip is the smallest she could experience, one that can’t even really be considered a trip, just a regular calm high.

“I cannot fucking believe you’re worried. Like, you forget you’re Lexi Howard?“ He asks her, returning her from the depths of her contemplations and hesitations.

“It’s good to have a reminder sometimes.“ She admits, meeting his soft eyes, “But it’s even better to relax a bit.“ She nods to the joint they had both forgotten about momentarily, causing Fez to smirk.

“Aight then.“ He chuckles, “Imma kick it off, you take the lead, ‘k?“

Lexi nods, watching as he brings it up to his lips, trapping it between them and sparks up the lighter. He inhales deeply, removing the blunt from in-between his lips to release the smoke forwards, in the direction of the window that’s opened a crack.

“Your turn.“ He nudges her shoulder with his, “Just breathe it in. Not too much tho, I don’t want you choking.“

She nods once again, taking the offered blunt and taking a decent puff that makes it’s path down her airways, burning her throat in a way that makes her cough and release the smoke. Thankfully, it’s just that one cough to get rid of the burning sensation and she manages to stabilize herself. She lifts her head to see how proud Fez looks as his gaze is entranced on her.

“What?“ She giggles.

“Handling it like a pro.“ He answers, his eyes trailing over her form, stopping on her hand which is still holding the joint. “Is there somethin’ you ain’t good at, Howard?”

“Plenty of stuff actually.“ She replies as she takes one more puff, surprising the hell out of the drug dealer before handing him the weed back, “Like having fun, being adventurous, sticking up for myself and others, being spontaneous, cooking.“

“That bucket list gon take care of three of those things. I can teach you a thing or two ‘bout cooking and for the sticking up for yourself and shit - don’t stress. You’ll figure it out. Until then imma be bashin’ people who dare talk smack ‘bout you.“

Lexi can’t help but giggle at his statement, stretching her legs in front of her, freeing them from their crossed position, “You can teach me to roll up a few too.” She says, hinting at his blunt rolling gear that sits on the small table next to the TV.

Surprisingly, he shakes his head, “Nah man, no fucking way. With you bein’ a pro at all shit you try, the last thing I need is you becomin’ my competition.”

The brunette rests her head on the man’s shoulder with a giggle, kissing his jaw, “No, I’ll be your helper.”

“Now that’s some shit I can get behind.“ Fez tilts his head so he can gaze down at her, pressing his lips against hers.

*  *  *  *  *

“Now you gon tell me what’s on that bucket list or nah?“

The blunt has long been stumped out, leaving Lexi in a state she’s never experienced before while Fezco is only mildly dazed. It really was some weak shit for him, but the girl’s presence has been enough to intoxicate him further.

Regardless, he’s pretty grounded while Lexi has been rambling on and on about different subjects. He tried to memorize each and every word that marked this day but with her fast speech and his hazy mind it was pretty difficult. Then she seemed to shut down and fall into a silent state of happiness with this dopey smile that currently resides on her face.

She giggles at his question, “There are regular things like learn to drive; have a roadtrip; go camping. There are more....explicit things like, um: lose my virginity, go skinny-dipping, kiss a girl - but I’ve already done that.” Not noticing Fez’s surprised expression, she continues, “But currently you know what’s number one?”

Caught a bit off-guard by the question, it takes him a moment to respond, “Uh, what?”

She snickers, completely out of it in the most adorable way the ginger has seen, “Get something to eat cause I’m fucking starving.”

This gets a laugh out of Fezco, the type he’d let out at his grandma’s fucked up adult jokes he was probably not supposed to hear as an 11-year-old, “You never fail to amaze me, Lexi Howard.” He takes her chin in his hand, softly tilting her head towards him and runs his thumb over her lips, “But I gotta tell you one thing - if stayin’ over at mine is on that list of yours, can we cross it off today?”

The pleading look in his eyes, coupled with her desire to do just that which has been living in her chest ever since they started hanging out at his house make it extremely difficult for her to turn him down.

Which is why she doesn’t.

“Of course we can.“

Their lips connect once more, this time not stopping at a simple one-stop kiss. They move into a well-synchronized rhythm with Fez’s hands wrapped around Lexi’s waist while hers are around his neck.

She pulls back breathlessly, her lips swollen ever so slightly, “But McDonalds first.”

“You got it, Howard.“

@lilaalouuxx  @ciniluv @hyperfixatingmenever  @rosesandallthatshit  @coffeebookreadinglover  @dreamingaboutyousworld  @maryelizabeth13

[dothedanceofdeath]

The President and I: Din Djarin X Original Black Reader AU

Summary: You are hired to write the biography of President Din Djarin of Mandalore - a job that turns out to be so much more than you could have imagined. A/N: AU, Age gap fic (19 years), Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Political shenanigans, Pro-monarch resurgence, war-hero Din, writer reader Pairing: Din Djarin  x Black female reader 

I’ve had a fic percolating for a while and I think I might be ready to unleash it on the world.

Din Djarin is the brooding President of the small coastal European country of Mandalore. Reader is the a Pulitzer Poetry Prize winning writer who visits Mandalore when a young girl writes to her, asking her to attend her school’s version of a show and tell - she’s in a slump in her career and she really needed this validation okay. Reader is accosted by the presidential guard on her way home and asked to write the biography of President Din Djarin, whose stoic nature has turned him into an enigma that alienates him from his people.

Reader is hired to shadow President Din Djarin for three months and lemme tell you the slow is gonna be burning my babies. Both these idiots have walls up so high it’ll give you a nosebleed but Din the war hero and reader the depressed wreck are going to find each other amongst the interference of the Djarin Administration and the failed monarchy that seeks to regain power (Did someone say Bo-Katan cameo?).

Also, all the SMUT is coming. I personally love to hate a good slow burn but I really wanted to do something heady and substantial because there is not a lot of Pedro fanfic written for us Black femmes so I wanted to do it right.

A little taste of the fic below. Let me know what you think!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“How are things going? Smoothly, I hope.” His tone was earnest. You couldn’t help but notice how he always ended his question with his preferred answer. You smile, wanting to seem amiable. It doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Yes. Smoothly.” You sigh and sits back in the chair dropping your gaze to the intricate engravings on the edge of the large wooden desk. Din nods, watching you closely.

“Is there anything else you need for the book?”

Your eyes shot up to his half listening, before you register the question and shake you head.

“Oh, no no. I think I have everything I need. The book will be readable, hopefully enjoyable. Everyone will be happy and we can all move on with our lives.”

Din’s expression is unreadable but he sits back in his chair.

“What do you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“Everyone will be happy… what does that mean?” He asks you, eyes never leaving yours. You catch a twitch of inquisition on his forehead before his face resumes its neutral stoicism. But his eyes. His dark brown orbs shine with his true curiosity. It felt like eavesdropping to even catch this tell of his. 

I really want to play poker with him. 

“Oh, uh… that everyone will be happy, last time I checked.”

You didn’t intend to be cheeky but you were well past the limit of your bullshit barometer to the point where observing decorum with an entire president just felt trite and unproductive. Din doesn’t move, eyes never leaving your face even though yours try to find any other focal point in the room. It’s so quiet, even for this time of night. You open your mouth to excuse yourself when he robs you of the chance by speaking.

“You do this writer thing where you say something, and mean something else. Stop it. Say what you mean.” He delivers evenly.

Your mouth drops in silent shock at his frank observation. The shock amplifies to the point where you laugh. You actually laugh out loud, boisterous and almost joyous. He can’t hide his confusion, but underneath it, he manages to conceal the awe that accompanies the warm bloom in his chest at the sound.

“Oh God” you huff out, trying to control your breathing. “Uhm... I mean isn’t that what you do as a politician?”

“Im not a politician.”

“Oh no, you’re just a freedom fighter turned president.”

The words hang in the air and you wish he would offer a retort so you wouldn’t have to pass the seconds realising how big of an asshole you just were. Din finally drops his gaze and you feel shit about it.

“Im sorry. I’m so sorry. Jesus, why do you let me speak to you like this?”

“Because I’m not a politician.”

That shuts you up. He never chose this. He was barely out of high school when he lost his entire family. A mere baby fighting someone else’s war. Although he sit across you, dark hair expertly disheveled and salt and pepper patchy facial hair doing things to you, you did not have the time to entertain right now, it was clear that this 47-year-old man still carried the hurts of the boy he used to be.

“You don’t owe me anything.” You offer. He raises his eyes to yours.

“You were 19, fighting on the frontlines of an impossible war the year I was born. You and your administration do not owe me shit.”

“But?”

You take a deep breath, weighing how far down this rabbit hole could still go before you actually pissed him off.

Fuck it.

[lockoutkey]

Red and Green Nights

This was inspired by @bdoubleowo's mistletoe drawing check it out it's good art. AO3 link here.

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

Christmas was a fun time for those who were a part of servers.

The members of last life thought it would be nice to spend it together this once. They were so used to the violence of their own server that overtook them it would be nice to have a time of peace. The holiday was the perfect time for them to just relax and enjoy the company of each other. There was no hate during these times. They ate and drank and forgot their worries for just a little while. For a little while there were no nightmares, no one flinched when someone came towards them, no one shuddered at the thought of speaking to someone. They were friends who spent a meal and a drink with each other.

Lizzie sipped on her eggnog in peace. Joel was off with Jimmy probably up to no good. The less she knew the less she had to worry about. What she didn’t know she didn’t have to be responsible for. Her husband and brother could get in trouble with someone else. If they were pranking someone, they could face the wrath of that person. They knew better than to mess with her.

Lizzie was so at peace she didn’t notice Cleo sneak up on her. The two were working on bettering their friendship after their most recent sessions. They were trying to understand each other. They knew what happened there should stay there. All the hurt was in their past. They had to be better.

Lizzie smiled at her friend. “Cleo! Enjoying the party?”

Cleo gave her a mischievous smile. Lizzie immediately knew she was up to something. “Of course, a ton of fun. I plan on having much more fun soon, however.”

Even on Last Life, Cleo loved to play pranks. There was no reason for it to stop as soon as they left. The pranks would probably be much less deadly, but the woman was bound to play pranks nevertheless. Lizzie would be fine. On the world Grian had them in they couldn’t even be killed. She was the safest she had ever been.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? I do hope it doesn’t involve any arson.”

Cleo shook her head. “Not this time. It involves this.”

Cleo held up her hand and kissed Lizzie on her forehead. Lizzie let out a sound of confusion and looked up. She saw the tiny green and red leaf and let out a laugh. “You’re the last person I’d expect to break out the mistletoe.”

Cleo waved her hand. “Oh please, I’ve done it before but this time there’s no admin to ban it.”

Oh, there was a story right there. “Alright, what’s the plan? Whose the first victim?”

Cleo swung the small plant tied to a string. “Well, you and Joel were going to be the first, but you know how that man is. He would kiss you without this.”

Lizzie blushed. “Well, he’s just that kind of person I suppose.”

“Exactly. Plus, I need a partner in crime. So how about another team up? Let’s not have any death this time though.” Cleo let Lizzie through the house to wherever she was planning her pranks. “Do you have a hat? We’re gonna need a few things for some of them. Also, how do you feel about crawling in vents?”

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

“So yeah, that’s how I got trapped in bedrock and couldn’t get out.”

Tango stared at Scar in disbelief. He knew what happened was possible, especially with Scar, but hearing the story was still unbelievable. He was so casually about losing everything he owned. Boatem truly was on another level of…something. They were something that couldn’t be put into words.

“Scar,” Tango said. “You are an enigma.”

Scar grinned. “Thank you!”

He lost sight of Tango in an instance and was instead faced with the smiling face of Cleo and Lizzie. He tipped his hat to the two women. “Ladies, to what do I owe the honor?” I’m gonna die.

Cleo grinned. “Scar, your hat, I think I can improve it.”

Scar returned the grin immediately. Anything to do with his hat automatically had his attention. Cleo and Lizzie could tell they had caught his interest and silently cheered. Scar removed his hat and twirled it, showing it off to his two friends. “How can you possibly improve my hat? My hat is just wonderful, see? Look at it.”

Lizzie nodded. “It is. But what if you added this.”

Scar looked at the object shoved in his face. “Why is mistletoe on a stick?”

Cleo held her hands out, obviously asking for permission to hold his hat. He placed it in her care and watched her take the fishing rod of a plant from Lizzie. Cleo elaborately stuck the wood onto his hat and tapped it firmly onto the front so it hung off the front like a unicorn horn. It looked ridiculous and impractical. Scar loved it.Cleo handed it back to its owner with a proud smirk. “What do you think?”

Scar smiled. “It’s a very Christmas addition. But why did you give me mistletoe?”

Lizzie looked at her nails with too much innocence. “Oh, I don’t know. We just noticed Grian was standing alone sometimes.”

Scar side eyed the two. “Are you meddling?”

The two looked in different directions but Lizzie’s smile gave her away. Scar crossed his arms. “I can’t believe you’re meddling. Meddling! Cleo, how could you?”

Cleo pointed across the room. “Oh look! There he is right now!”

Grian was indeed standing where Cleo was pointing. He was in the middle of making a cup of hot chocolate looking very concentrated on not spilling the packet of chocolate powder. He glared at the small bit of dust that fell onto the spruce table. He glanced around and brushed it onto the floor.

Cleo gestured towards him. “Wow, he’s right there. What are you gonna do, Scar?”

Scar tapped his chin. The mistletoe lightly swung in the air. “You know what? You’re right. Grian shouldn’t be alone, I should go to him! Thank you for this, Cleo and Lizzie! It’s a wonderful and helpful hat!”

Cleo brushed off the comment. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just helping out!”

Scar walked away, hearing a quiet. “Okay, who's next?” From Lizzie. He chuckled, feeling bad for whichever two last lifers were the victims of the two tricksters.

Grian was shaking marshmallows into his hot chocolate when Scar tapped on his shoulder. Grian’s wings flared out, nearly knocking the other mugs off of the table. He backed up and glared at the intruder who scared him. “Scar! You can’t do that!”

Scar smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, G, didn’t mean to scare you. Scouts honor.”

“I highly doubt you were a scout.” Grian laughed.

“Hey! That rhymed. And I was, otherwise how could I say that?” Scar defended himself.

Grian didn’t even bother to argue. There was no way to use logic when it came to Scar. He was the most illogical person Grian had ever met, for as talented as he was when it came to building, his brain worked in mysterious ways. Though the stop in conversation drew his eye up to the new addition to Scar’s hat. “Scar, what on earth are you wearing?”

Scar glanced up. “Oh, I’m wearing a hat!”

Grian let out a sigh. “I meant what’s on your hat. You have mistletoe on a stick taped to it. Why? Why are you like this?”

“An excellent question. You see, there I was, peacefully telling Tango about my endeavors on Hermitcraft. All of a sudden, Tango disappears from my eyes. I assume he’s taken by the gods, but in actuality-”

Grian cut Scar off. “Scar, just tell me why you have that on your hat.”

“Oh, it’s so I can kiss you!” Scar merrily explains.

Grian laughs. “What? Is a mistletoe fishing rod your plan?”

Scar shakes his head. “I’m glad you think it also looks like a fishing rod. No, it’s Cleo and Lizzie’s plan, but I think it’s a wonderful idea! It makes my hat look impressive as well, don’t you think?”

Grian looked around to see both Lizzie and Cleo climbing a ladder into the ceiling. He didn’t know why, and didn’t know how no one noticed. He supposed everyone was too drunk from whoever spiked the eggnog to see their antics. Lightweights, all of them.

Grian crossed his arms. “No. Someone told you to so you don’t get to.”

Scar frowned. He reached out and grabbed Grian. “But…my hat.”

Grian squirmed in Scars arms. “I don’t care about your hat! Mistletoe is stupid!”

“That’s offensive to Christmas, Grian.” Scar scolded. “Do you hate Christmas? I can’t believe you hate Christmas!”

Grian smiled. “Yes, I hate Christmas. I don’t like it anymore.”

“Pleaseee can I have a kiss? It’ll convince you to like Christmas!” Scar whined.

Grian shoved his face away. “Nope, now it’s the principle. I simply can’t, it’s a law.”

Scar smirked. “The last time you did something on principle you started a war.”

“I’ll do it again.” Scar pushed past his hands and Grian pressed his face again. “Nope, principle.”

“Whyyyy?” Scar gripped Grian’s sweater. “Once! Then you can stick to your principal!”

Grian let his arms fall and Scar’s hat bumped into his forehead. “Okay, you get one kiss. Then you go away forever and follow the principal.”

Scar nodded in agreement, string flying through the air. “Deal, never see you again.”

Grian didn’t know if he felt warm from the hot chocolate or the kiss. Scars hat covered his head like an umbrella, hiding him from the flashing Christmas lights and chattering voices. Grian smiled, messing up the kiss Scar had been fighting for. He felt a poke to his side in retaliation for the break.

“You ruined it, Grian.” Scar complained.

“I said one, you got one. Not you leave. Goodbye.” Grian waved in his face.

A crash turned their attention towards the fireplace. They looked over to Skizzleman singing on the table. It was absolutely horrendous. The crowd around him was doing nothing to stop it. In fact, they were encouraging it. Scar held out a hand and bowed. “May I have this dance?”

Grian giggled. “I suppose.”

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

“What teams do you think Scott is going to pick for the next MCC?”

Martyn and Ren were lazily watching the party as the night went on. The eggnog was supposed to be non-alcoholic but they were sure Impulse had spiked it at some point in the night. The drinks had calmed the two down compared to energizing some of the other players. Skizzleman was currently singing on the table to the amusement of BigB, Pearl, Tango, and Joel. Grian had spiked his own hot chocolate and was dancing with Scar to the badly sung music, and Tango was asleep by the fire. They sure were an interesting group when they weren’t murdering each other.

Ren shrugged. “Pete will probably be with one of us, so will Illumina or fruit. Those DSMP guys will stay hanging around each other for sure, though Scott might join them. I’m hoping for you, me, and Falsy. Fruit would be great to have, but I would be happy with anyone here with us.”

Martyn smiled. “I hope we get to team again. It’s fun. That time with Illumina was amazing, I loved it.”

Ren raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Is that spiked?”

“Let’s change the subject.”

Martyn laughed. “Okay, fine. How are you Hermitcraft builds going? I hear there some strange stuff going on over there.”

Ren sighed. “Honestly, I have no clue anymore. The shops are selling fine, but for some reason the moon is abnormally large, gravity is-”

They heard a bang from above them and glanced up. A hand quickly retreated, leaving only the mistletoe hanging inches above their heads. Martyn felt his face heat up. That definitely wasn’t there a few moments ago. He didn’t even know who put that there. It wasn’t him or Ren, but now it was there.

Ren could recognize Cleo’s hand from a mile away and groaned internally. She would. She would do something like this. She probably roped someone else into it as well. The same thing had happened years ago on the Hermitcraft server. Cleo had gone around trying to hang up mistletoe between people without them realizing. Xisuma put a stop to it quickly, saying it wasn’t in the spirit of the holidays. Their admin had also confiscated any and all alcohol, but with Grian as their admin here, that was not going to happen. If only their parental-esque figure were here, though what was a party for last lifers without a bit of chaos.

Martyn coughed lightly. “Um, so.”

Ren rubbed his neck. “Yes, uh.”

Ren’s tail wagged behind him despite his attempts to stop it. He glanced at the hanging plant and Martyn’s red face. He didn’t make a plan for this. This was very unexpected.

“We don’t have to..” Martyn trailed off.

Ren lightly blushed. “Of course, of course. There’s no reason, I mean, it’s your choice.”

Martyn shook his head. “No, no, it’s up to you. I mean, uh..”

Ren bit his nail. He wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. He could…he could kiss Martyn, theoretically. But now? Should he? Was this even the time for it? Probably not. No, absolutely not. Well, tradition did stand that one should kiss another under the mistletoe, there are many songs about it. But that was a song, right? Songs were just songs.

“It’s your decision.” Ren said.

“I insist that you decide. Really.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, go ahead.”

“JUST KISS ALREADY!”

Lizzie was grinning behind Joel, obviously having told her husband about the secret plans her and Cleo had been doing. Joel had his hands cupped around his mouth for extra loudness. Now the attention was fully on the two in the doorway. Great. Even more pressure.

“Uh, like I said, we don’t have to.” Ren explained.

Martyn cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s fine. How do we, you know, do this?”

“LET’S GOOOO!”

“HURRY UP!”

“KISS! KISS! KISS!”

The other last lifers started chanting, not helping the situation at all. Ren was a person who could ignore peer pressure if he wanted to, but…it gave him even more of a reason to kiss Martyn. Yes, he could say it was peer-pressure if something went wrong.

Ren pushed away the voices and quickly leaned towards Martyn. He had nearly won Last Life. He was the king of Dogwarts. He had nothing to fear. Actually, he had so much to fear. Martyn could end up hating him. Martyn probably wouldn’t, but there was always the chance.

He just left a quick kiss. He barely felt himself kiss Martyn. Another time, maybe something could be more. For now, it was enough. Enough to get the point across. His face had to have been bright red by now, even if it wasn’t his tail gave away his excitement. Martyn looked surprised, staring wide eyed at Ren. Cheers and heckles filled the room. Pearl’s scolding was drowned out by the voices yelling at the two.

“Oh, um, that was very nice.” Martyn muttered.

Ren looked at the ground, reaching out to hold Martyn’s hand. Martyn hesitated for a millisecond, but gripped his hand back. Ren let out a sigh of relief. “It would be nice if everyone would mind their business.”

Martyn grinned. “It’s fine, we’ll just show everyone who’s in MCC that we’re the best team.”

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

Etho didn’t like parties. Well, he sometimes did, but that was when he could speak to people and have coherent conversations. This party though? It was loud and full of people who couldn’t handle their alcohol. That was why he had insisted the eggnog be non-alcoholic. He knew that the people he would be with that night couldn’t even handle that. But what did Impulse go and do? Spike the drinks. He thinks he even got the milk as well, but Etho wasn’t too sure. Grian seemed fine with his hot chocolates earlier, but Grian could also keep up with Etho the few times Xisuma let them bring any kind of liquor onto Hermitcraft.Though it technically wasn’t allowed, the admin let it slide for him. So who knew.

He glanced at Bdubs, who was surprisingly not drunk. He supposed Mindcrack had changed his tolerance to it; that server had been wildly different from Hermitcraft. He still didn’t trust him, though.

He also didn’t particularly like drunk people. They were funny from a distance, and the videos sent around in the following days were replayed many times, but they were so loud and never listened. If they got too close they stumbled into him and a spilled drink was more than a slight annoyance to get out of his jacket.

“I hate it here.” Etho said.

Bdubs snorted. “You’re an introvert, I expect nothing less. Give it an hour and everyone will be passed out and you can have your peace and quiet.”

Etho glared. “I’m not an introvert. Why does everyone call me that?”

“Hmm, let’s see. Single-player world, you talk to Iskall through notes, and you just admitted you hate being at parties. I could go on but that sounds like the qualities of an introvert.” Bdubs was right but Etho would admit nothing.

“Whatever.”

Bdubs sighed and scrolled through his inventory. Etho watched curiously, wondering what he could be looking for. They all had creative mode, so technically he had whatever Bdubs was looking for as well. In his hands appeared comparators, torches, hoppers, and various other redstone tools. “Play with that and you’ll feel better.”

Etho hated that he was right. How dare Bdubs understand him. He mumbled a thank you and took the tools.

Etho focused on the tools and the music and yelling slowly drowned out. He wasn’t really trying to make anything, but the familiar feel of redstone calmed him down. Twisting and pushing buttons and switches made it easier to ignore the overwhelming atmosphere.

His focus was broken by the grinning form of Cleo. That was automatically a red flag. Nothing good could come from her as happy as she was now. The matching grin from Lizzie didn’t do anything to settle him. “You’re up to something.”

“Nooo, of course not.” Lizzie dragged out giggling.

“Etho, take this.” His hand was grabbed and opened completely against his will. Whatever he had unconsciously made with redstone fell to the floor. A second later, the girls dashed off giggling. The two watched them prance away to make chaos who knows where. Etho stared sadly at the mess on the floor.

“What was that about?” Bdubs asked. Etho shrugged. He looked around for them again and prepared to think of some sort of revenge. “What did they do?”

“I think they were gonna give me something. Those two get on like a house fire.” Etho had seen what both of them could do on Last Life. He wouldn’t be lying if he said they both scared him to some degree. When they were allowed free reign to do what they wanted, they did the worst they could. He didn’t get why people were scared of him when those two existed.

Bdubs pointed at the floor. “What’s that?”

Etho didn’t notice the small object on the floor mixed with his broken redstone. That must’ve been what Cleo had tried to give him. He bent down and carefully examined it. Oh. So that’s what they’re running around for. Of course those two would. He internally sighed and wondered who they had messed with so far. Probably Ren and Martyn from the yelling earlier. He picked it up and showed it to Bdubs.

“Mistletoe?” Bdubs asked.

Etho nodded. “Those fools are running around and probably hanging it over people. That explains Scar’s hat and Joel earlier. Didn’t Cleo try this on Hermitcraft?”

Bdubs nodded, staring at the leaf. “Yeah, Xisuma deleted it all from the server for a month because of it. He went dadmin mode. It was kinda funny.”

Etho went back to people watching, keeping hold of the plant in his hand. He had lost his precious redstone. This was a tragedy. It was Cleo and Lizzie’s fault but the two had disappeared once again to who knows where.

Bdubs slapped his arm. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Aren’t you gonna kiss me?” Bdubs asked it like it should be obvious, like Etho was very dumb. He heard that tone of voice a lot. He invented the hopper clock, thank you very much. It wasn’t his fault he was oblivious, he just didn’t notice things. Wait, maybe he wasn’t smart. Oh wait, Bdubs was glaring at him, he had gotten distracted again.

Etho looked at the mistletoe, back at Bdubs, and back down. “No.”

“Oh?”

Oh no, bad phrasing. Plan B. Be cool like the movies.

He slowly smirked. Yes, he was cool. “Really, Bdubs, you know I can’t.”

Bdubs crossed his arms. “Wanna explain why that is?”

Opportunity, nice. Stay cool. Etho pointed to his mask. “I can’t take off my mask here! Look at all the people. It’s just not possible. Are you gonna make me take off my mask?” Perfect.

Etho didn’t mind kissing Bdubs, mistletoe or not. Considering they’d known eachother since Mindcrack, it would be silly if he did mind. What Etho did care about was his mask. He didn’t care who or what it was for, he wouldn’t take it off in front of this group of people. Yes, they had been through a lot together on Last Life, but it was just a thing. It had taken years before he let Bdubs see him, and even longer for Xisuma and the rest of the nHo. Consider yourself special if Etho trusted you enough, and dead if you broke it.

Bdubs clenched his fists. “Yeah, I know, but-”

Etho held it above his head. “If you can reach it, then I’ll kiss you. Deal?”

“No deal!” Bdubs yelled. “You overgrown tree, how am I supposed to reach up there?”

Etho shrugged. “You can figure that out. Look, Skizz is singing the creeper rap. It’s not very festive but I’m kinda impressed. You think he’ll do hermitgang? Impulse would proba-”

He was dragged through the room past his other friends. Yeah, they were out of it. Where was he being taken? That was the door to outside Bdubs was opening. Wait, why were they going outside. It was snowing hard and the last place he wanted to be. The door shut behind him and he was faced with falling snowflakes and spruce trees. Wind blew his hair every direction and would have blinded him had he not had his headband.

He shivered under his jacket, zipping it and shoving his already gloved hands in his pockets. He glanced at Bdubs, whose own hoodie had no pockets. Why didn’t it have pockets? He quickly brought one of Bdubs hands into his jacket pocket. “What do you think you’re doing? We’re gonna get hypothermia!”

Bdubs waved him off with the single free hand, but it was obvious the moss hoodie was doing little for the cold. “It’s f-fine. L-look, now there’s no-noone.”

Oh.

Oh.

Bdubs still managed to surprise him with how clever he could be.

“That’s your plan? Are you c-crazy?” Etho laughed.

Bdubs grinned back at him. “Most likely.”

Of all the people in the world, on all the servers he has been on, Etho just had to marry Bdubs.

“Mask off.” Bdubs shivered. He shuffled in place to try to find some semblance of warmth in the negative weather.

“Fine.” Etho said. He reached up and pulled his mask down, immediately getting hit by a gust of wind. Etho bent down and kissed his cold nose. That’s all Bdubs would get. He was dragged into the cold, this is the consequences. Somehow, Bdubs was colder than the actual weather. Worry flew through Etho and he wanted them inside even more.

Etho had forgotten Bdubs hand was still in his pocket and he now couldn’t stand up. Bdubs didn’t have to jump to kiss him, just trick Etho. Bdubs wasn’t warm like he usually was and Etho was numb himself. He barely felt Bdubs, but was still happy all the same. Sure, he had been tricked, but it was fine. He stared at Bdubs smirking face.Most people thought his staring could be intimidating or creepy, but Bdubs knew better. That was Etho stare for ‘I don’t wanna say anything but I’m happy.’ Bdubs’s hand shook in his pocket which was probably a bad sign. “Alright, you win.”

Etho hated admitting defeat, but he had been tricked fair and square. Bdubs was smart, even if he didn’t always act like it, even if others didn’t realize.

“Now we can go back inside. I’m cold.” Bdubs complained.

“Oh, now you’re cold? Why do you get to decide?”

“Because I do.”

“That’s unfair.”

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

Scott was thoroughly amused by the sight in front of him. Joel had once again joined Skizzleman on the table and was now joining in on the singing and dancing. Joel was only slightly better musically than the other. Scott had made sure to get multiple videos of the drunk men for black mail.

“They’re not gonna remember anything in the morning, are they?” Pearl asked him.

Scott shook his head. “Doubt it. However, I don’t think Joel will mess with me on Empires after this. Lizzie is going to thoroughly enjoy this video. I can’t believe she’s missing this.”

“What am I missing?”

Scott nearly jumped out of his skin from the sudden appearance of the pink haired woman. She smiled up at him innocently, too innocently. He was about her enough to know she had either done something or was going to do something and wanted to rope him into it. “You’re missing your husband being an absolute mess. Look at this man.”

Lizzie glanced at Joel with an eyeroll. “Please, I’m jaded. However, this is the perfect time for you to come with me.”

Lizzie grabbed Scotts arm and dragged him before he could even get a word out. He heard Pearl try to ask what they were doing but she quickly faded away. Lizzie had a small grin on her face. Yep, he was probably about to die. Despite not being able to die on this server, she would find some way to kill him.

He was dragged to an equally confused Jimmy standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He was practically shoved towards his husband by his long time friend. The push nearly made him fall and he would have had Jimmy not caught him.

“Lizzie! What on earth are you doing?” Jimmy asked.

Lizzie backed away. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

Scott glanced up then back at the queen. “You sneaky devil.”

She giggled and sprinted off, probably to find Cleo. Those two were a menace.

“What’s going on?” Jimmy looked at Scott for an answer. He followed Scott’s pointed hand and saw the mistletoe Lizzie and Cleo had put up for Ren and Martyn earlier.

“Those two need to be stopped.” Scott sighed.

“They’ve been doing this to everyone all night, you know. Not surprised we were roped in.” Jimmy shook his head. “I’ll get Lizzie back for this.”

To be fair they had laughed at the others who were caught in the girls' plan. He was impressed by the hat they used for Scar, clever of them. He thought for sure they would’ve failed with Ren and Martyn. Those two were a whole other level of pining Scott refused to even get into. He had no clue what happened after they went after Etho and Bdubs, but he had an idea when he saw them shivering by the fire.

Scott reached his hands up to Jimmy’s face. “I mean, I’m not particularly complaining.”

Jimmy grinned. “I don’t think anyone is gonna be chanting for us.”

“Good.” Scott said. “Those two needed it anyways. I don’t particularly think we do.”

“Really?” Jimmy asked. “What makes you think that?”

Scott loved everything about Jimmy. He loved these moments where the world melted away and all they knew were each other. They kissed and nothing mattered. There was no death server and no empires and no party. All there was, was Jimmy.

Scott smiled and the kiss broke off. Jimmy’s eyes crinkled like they did when he was perfectly happy and Scott had to stop himself from finding a camera and taking a picture. He remembered where they were and Joel’s singing infected his ears again.

“It would’ve been romantic if you would’ve given me some kind of flower.” Scott pointed out.

Jimmy made a noise of disbelief. “Where the heck am I supposed to get one? We’re in the middle of a snowstorm in a tundra.”

“We have creative mode, Jimmy.” Scott pointed out.

Jimmy bit his lip and slowly shifted through the creative inventory. Scott rolled his eyes and took the flower. It was the thought that counts.

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

The party was winding down and the last lifers were slowly falling asleep throughout the room. Everyone was either too drunk or tired to go back to their own servers by this point. They were full of food and tired from the long night of fun.

Joel was snoring lightly next to Lizzie. He had his fun singing various songs with Skizz throughout the night with the encouragement of their friends. His rendition of “frosty the snowman” but replacing frosty with “Lizzie my wife”was both questionable but hilarious.

She and Cleo definitely had a ball of fun running around and, as Scar put it, meddling. Their personal favorite event was Bdubs and Etho walking inside looking like popsicles. They had no clue why they had gone outside but it wasn’t their problem.

Lizzie reached to pull the blanket higher and felt her hand brush something soft and tiny. she grabbed it and held it in front of her eyes. This was karma, or maybe it was the grinning face of Cleo across the room. One of those two was responsible for the mistletoe she held. “Traitor.” She mouthed at her friend. Cleo shrugged and closed her eyes.

Lizzie poked Joel’s cheek. The man groaned and opened his eyes halfway to stare at his wife. “What?”

She held up the mistletoe. “Look what I have.”

Joel stared at the small plant. “Weed?”

“No!” Lizzie gasped. Jimmy snored on the couch above her. She made sure to lower her voice to keep her brother asleep. “It’s mistletoe.”

Joel blinked. There wasn’t a thought behind those eyes. The man was so smart yet there was no comprehending anything. “Okay.”

Lizzie sighed. She truly loved her husband. She did. Sometimes a sack of rocks was smarter than him, though. He was pretty, though, and a good builder. What was the word Scott used? A himbo, that’s it.  “Joel, what do you have to do when you see mistletoe?”

“Uhh, kiss someone?” Joel asked. He grinned when he was told he was right. “Who do I kiss?”

Lizzie glared. “Joel! I’m your wife, me of course.”

Joel’s eyes brightened. “We’re married? Awesome, I’m so lucky.”

“How drunk are you?”

“Twelve.”

Lizzie wasn’t looking forward to taking care of a group of hungover people in the morning. She was going to kill Impulse for spiking those drinks. Next season, he’s dead. Maybe she can ask Grian to kill him on the Hermitcraft server. “Okay Joel, nevermind. Go to sleep.”

Joel frowned. “Are you mad? I love you. Don’t be mad. I’ll kiss you with the mistletoe if you want.”

Lizzie laughed quietly. Didn’t he just forget they were married? “Under, Joel, under the mistletoe. I love you too, but you’re drunk and out of your mind. You can kiss me in the morning.”

Joel rolled on top of Lizzie, almost crushing her. She wheezed and pushed him off, trying to catch her breath again. His breath smelled of alcohol and sugar. He must’ve tried to hiss her cheek but completely failed and met her eye instead. God he was so drunk. “Joel, sleep.”

“Mmm, okay. I love you.” He passed out almost immediately. She rolled her eyes. Men. Joel.

“I love you too.” She whispered, stroking his hair. His soft snoring slowly mixed with all the others. She closed her eyes, tired from the long night and ready for sleep.

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

[sojutrait]

i was happy to get either of the twins tbh, im always partial to the older kids in the generation dkfjfkd 😭😭

pretty much exactly what u said kfjkfgk what they did give us i rlly enjoy and its works for the most part, but ur right the classes are so empty if u dont use a mod 😭😭

its a thousand times easier than what u think dkfjfdk imma dumbass and i figured it out 😌 they work pretty much indistinguishable from packs u payed for

ive always wondered if it was even possible to replace the moschino style camera poses bc i never seen anyone do it, just the normal camera from before  😭😭 hopefully they can

thank you so much!! ❤❤❤

DKJFKF TYHE HOES LOVE THISFDGJKFG 😭😭😭 by the time he got to the word hoe nadine wouldve kicked him in the shin under the table as hard as she could kjfkdfkj

NO REALLY like for the biggest continental state we’re really an enigma- 

texans unite 😌✋ and thank you!!! 😭😭❤ i hope u have a great day!

i noticed that too and its very odd 🗿🗿🗿 i think they saw one person feign ignorance and went “oooo lemme try that too” but forgot we arent stupid lmao

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have nothing to add you literally hit the nail on the head with this one dkfjdkf 

literally. idk why theyre all operating on the assumption that EA has no idea what early access is and just forgot to mention it but no. it says clear as day that it has to be free from the start, point blank period. id rather them just outright say “well fuck EA im gonna ignore this L + ratio” than pretend to be oh so confused 

i remember when i did the math for how much money sixamcc makes a month and my jaw dropped like that is RIDICULOUS  😭😭 meanwhile actual EA developers are running off nickles dimes and ramen noodles 

no ur so right. like i get it, trends are pretty standardized but u can make trendy clothes without making literal repeats of the same item 10 times. oddly enough the assets from hsy are an example of that lmao, trendy clothes but still diverse enough to not be redundant. 

i dont think the whole no ones holding u at gunpoint argument holds water bc thats the same thing said in response to EA scamming ppl and most ppl dont accept it then either. i dont have a problem with early access in theory, but the way ppl use it id def rather just do away with it. its more so about how it incentivizes ppl to create for the sole sake of money and nothing else. thats how we end up with the same mesh edits 45 times, items that are a billion polys because they cba to decimate it, etc. there’s still ways to make money from patreon without monetizing the actual package files, .ie access to polls, submitting ideas, and whatnot

[euphoricsunflowers]

held against the window — lee hoseok/wonho

request: Could you write a smut of wonho being a secretary and the reader the ceo. OR they are both ceo's. Maybe fuck him against the window of the office building.

a/n: of course darling <33 hope you enjoy <3 gif is mine

disclaimer: that is this is just a fanfic so in actuality please discuss what you are and aren’t comfortable with beforehand with people and don’t just jump into stuff like this. aso please don’t involve other people (aka public sex) in your sex life. please read with caution.

word count: 2.5k

content: sub!wonho, dom!fem!reader, ceo!reader, tall!reader (i’m sorry but there’s literally only like one line and i’m doing this for me) ceo!wonho, fingering (m receiving), pegging, minor nipple play, minor dumbification, fucking him against a window,

summary: he’s a powerful ceo just like you are, but he’s just so sweet and docile and soft that you wonder if he’s even the same person.

lee hoseok.

smart. calculated. muscular. dangerously attractive.

he’s an enigma, in a sense, to you. he’s rich, he’s insanely intelligent, he’s beyond adept at running his company, and he’s just so gorgeous that you wonder how he isn’t the cockiest asshole ever, but he’s also so kind and so sweet and so startlingly shy that it all just throws off everything about him.

“mr. lee is here, miss,” your assistant pops their head in through the door, “should i show him to your office?” you nod, murmuring a small “thank you” before you focus back on your laptop, finishing up typing before the door opens once more, and the man of the hour steps inside your office.

“hello,” you say.

“hello, good morning,” he smiles back, looking almost cute in the way he smiles, sitting in the chair opposite from yours at your desk, “thank you for taking time out of your day to meet with me- can i call you y/n?”

“go ahead,” you tilt your head as you hear him talk, but you don’t honestly pay attention to what he’s saying, too lost in his eyes and the fact that his shirt is way more unbuttoned than seems appropriate when meeting another company’s ceo.

he keeps talking, but it’s becoming visible how out-of-it you are, especially when he tentatively waves a hand in front of your face to get your attention, “everything okay in there?” he jokes.

“yeah! yes, i’m fine, hoseok, please continue,”

“are you sure you want me to?” he asks, voice still soft but now it’s almost teasing in its softness, and it’s startling, flustering because obviously, you don’t. your mind is everywhere but this conversation, “i can- we can do something else if you’re not too interested in what i’m saying.”

“god, i’m so sorry, hoseok-”

“don’t be, it’s okay,” he murmurs, getting up out of his chair, “well, come on, come and get me,” he murmurs cheekily, and you cautiously step out of your chair, closing the distance enough to whisper and have him hear, “look, if i’m reading this wrong, then just let me know and i’ll apologize, leave, and probably never look you in the eye again if i’m being honest,” he giggles out of nervousness, rubbing the back of his head with his hand, “but, if i am reading this right, then kiss me.”

“you’re… demanding, you know,” you complain (not really) as you pull him in fully, touching his jaw gently with the tips of your fingers as you kiss. his lips are so soft and thick that you just can’t help but pull on his bottom lip with your teeth gently. he breathes out a soft and inconspicuous moan, exactly what you wanted, and his hands find your hips as he pulls you closer, and his every movement seems to drive you insane, “how are you so…?”

he tilts his head in confusion so cutely that it stirs a certain feeling inside of you, “so what?”

“so…,” you blank before the perfect word hits you, “perfect,” he huffs, but you continue, “genuinely, you’re just so enticing, you’re so beautiful,” your lips find his neck, gentle in the way you nibble at his neck, even as he squirms in your grasp, making you simply just hold him tighter against you, “you’re so docile and passive, it’s everything i want.”

his small, gasps and breathy moans keep you going, intent on dragging more out of him, “you- can people see us on the outside of that window??”

“if they look up, maybe, but we’re on a very high floor,” you respond between small bites on his neck, and as you become less and less gentle with him, he whimpers, “hoseok,” you whisper, “if you at all need or want to stop, just let me know, okay?”

“i- uhm, okay, i don’t want you to, though,” his hands hold your waist loosely, playing with the edges of your tucked-in shirt.

you chuckle endeared at his response. he’s so sweet (both in the way he tastes and the way he acts) it makes you wonder if this man was even real, “good, because i enjoyed that whimper much more than i should have,” he breathes heavier after hearing those words, so physically affected it’s like this man was created and molded to your exact tastes, “since you brought up the window, let’s give everyone a show, hm?”

“you- uh- what? what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean, baby,” you mumble, the pet name so sickeningly sweet off your tongue that he can’t help the way he succumbs to you, “i’m going to fuck you so hard against the window,” you pull him as you take cautious steps back towards the window until your back hits the window, “i’m going to make sure the whole city knows that the lee hoseok is just my little whore.”

you take the breath out of his lungs with every word past your lips and his knees go weak at your words. you flip over to hold him against the window, finally getting him where you want him.

“is that what you want, hoseok?” you ask, but you know the answer. he nods, biting his bottom lip anxiously, “you want everyone to see you like that? that’s so naughty,” you tease.

“i- oh god-“ he exclaims with a heavy breath as you flip him over, feeling upon his body even if his shirt is in the way, letting your hands wander a little lower to grope his ass. he bites his lips, but he can’t hold in his moans for very long.

“you feel perfect against me, baby, so perfect,” you wrap your hands around him to unbutton his shirt, “let’s get this off of you, hm?” he shyly helps you shrug the fabric off of him, “don’t bother with trying to not get fingerprints on the window, they’ll be a reminder of who touched it.”

your hands resume touching him, running against his skin, feeling up every perfectly built muscle on his torso, noticing how he went from overwhelmed and sensitive to teased and desperate so quickly, noticing how hard he’s gotten. aside from moans or soft curses, he’s quiet. you keep your eyes on his facial expressions, especially when your fingernails brush his nipples, “ah-!” he cries out.

“oh? that’s enough to get a cry out of you?” you smirk, seeing him become flustered at your taunting, “then you’re really in for it, baby. i’m gonna fuck you so hard you see stars, and if we break the window?” you lean in to really whisper to him, reaching down to start unbuckling his belt, throwing it off of him, “then good. i’ll be smiling while i pay for the repairs. now, strip all the way down.”

as he obeys, you do the same, throwing off all your clothes and making an absolute mess of your office. you search through one of your drawers, “ah, there it is,” you say, grabbing a couple more things and setting them on your desk before returning to hoseok, now naked and trying to cover himself as he stands a little bit away from the window, “baby, if you’re uncomfortable with any of this, i need you to tell me,” you say you press kisses to his shoulder to soothe him a bit.

“no, no i’m okay! this is really hot, actually, i’m just-” he’s more nervous as you guide him towards the window again, and he puts him hands up against it just like before, “i’m just getting shy.”

“it’s cute, hoseok, i like it when you’re shy,” your hands massages his skin, specifically at his hip as a way to keep him in place and also comfort him, “but if that shyness becomes discomfort, tell me.”

“i- okay,” he nods, and your hands once again find his ass, and he whines just like he did before.

“you have such a nice ass, you know,” you murmur absentmindedly as you squeeze, “i mean, the rest of you is perfect too, god i just can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“i- i want to touch you too,” he whispers, “i just- you’re giving me all the attention, and you’re so pretty yourself that i just- i want to make you feel good too.”

“maybe later, hoseok,” the way your lips say his name is like a venom and he loves it, it’s all he wants to hear, “for now, just let me have you.”

“oh-okay,” he stutters, giving in so sweetly, “i’m yours, y/n, yours.”

“you’re adorable,” you coo, pressing a kiss to his shoulder again before your wet and cold fingers press against his hole. he’s not even sure he saw you put lube on them but he’s startled when he feels the touch. even still, he lets you push your fingers in to the first knuckle, keeping them still for a moment before making slow circles.

“you can- you know,” he mumbles, and you laugh at his shyness before pushing your fingers in more, watching the strain on his face with a subtle sense of pleasure, he’s just so cute like this. he groans, “oh my god, you- oh, fuck- your fingers feel so-”

“and these are just my fingers, hoseok. imagine how wrecked and fucked out you’ll be with my strap on even deeper in your ass,” you press a kiss just below his ear, taunting him with your words slightly, “i doubt you’ll even be able to stand, but i’ll keep you held up against this window so you don’t have to worry that the people down there don’t get to see how slutty you are.”

he moans with a cry as your fingers brush that spot, and his eyes shut as his cheeks go red with embarrassment.

“did that feel good?” you ask, rubbing your fingers over the spot to try and drag that same reaction out of him, and he’s just a beautiful sight. he’s trying to catch his breath, he’s failing to catch his breath. his eyes roll back as his head falls back against your shoulder, “aw, can you not handle the pleasure? it’s just my fingers, seok. you’re going to need to prepare yourself if you’re getting this messed up over just my fingers.”

“i want- i want more than just your-“ he breathes, his voice so dry and airy that it makes him sound so much more desperate, “please fuck me.”

“sure thing, doll,” you kiss the side of his neck (making him flinch at the now sensitive skin from all your bites. he’s pretty sure you left some bruises) your fingers leaving him makes him whine, but feeling the cool touch of the strap on against his ass reminds him that this wasn’t over; it hadn’t even begun. you push it in slightly, seeing the overwhelmed look

on his face almost makes you hesitate, but you get it fully inside of him before you wait to continue, keeping him still against you while he adjusts, you say, “it’s so fun to think about how someone as powerful and influential as you is, in reality, just a cute little hole for my strap,” he jaw is slacked and his eyes are shut, like he’s not even mentally present at all, “you just look so cute and dumb, it makes me want to lose all control and fuck you until you break.”

“please. please, fuck me- fuck- until i break,” he whines, even pushing back against your strap slightly, and that’s your queue to let go of that caution you’ve been holding, and just go for it. you almost pull out completely just to push back in entirely and harshly, and he cries out.

“you’re really in for it, baby,” you say as you rock your hips back and forth, finding a comfortable pace for yourself that is still intense and overwhelming for him, making sure to hit it deep, holding him close by his waist and pushing harshly, “now, don’t be shy, moan for me.”

he does, crying out moans so beautiful you’d think he has the voice of an angel. he keeps his arms against the window, above his head, and he looks down at all the people. he thinks about what they’d think if they looked up and saw him like this? would they recognize him? why did the though of being caught like this both horrify him and excite him like no other?

but all those thoughts fade away as he gets more and more worked up, only really focused on how good he feels and how he wants to feel even better, “you look so pretty and docile like this, hoseok, but you know, i bet you look even better when you’re cumming,” your hand reaches down to give some attention to his cock, and he moans even louder, even more, “i can’t wait for you to completely fall apart.”

“i- oh, fuck, fuck, god-” he stammers, getting closer, so startled by how easy he was to get this close, this fucked up, but your hand works his cock so good and you fuck him so good that he can’t help that all the stimulation is becoming too much, and he’s getting closer to the edge, “fuck, i’m gonna cum, please-”

“cum, hoseok. show me just how much of a whore for me you are,” you mumble in response, and that’s enough to push him over the edge. he arches his back, his head thrown back like before, and he cries out a loud moan as you continue to fuck him through his orgasm, keeping pace until he starts to whine instead of moan, and that’s your queue to slow down and pull out, holding him up because he might not be physically strong enough to stand if you didn’t.

“t-thank you, that was- that was amazing,” he breathes heavily as you turn him around gently, keeping him up as he catches his breath, “let me return the favor now, please.”

he seems okay enough for you to let go now, and you move to sit on your chair instead, “i mean, if you would like to eat me out until your jaw is sore, then by all means, baby: enjoy your meal.”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @foenixs @hobilluvvr @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub @rubyscloud9 @silencefavarchive @nct99 @bigkpopstan @monstaxdirtywonk @rosiethefairy @domreaderrecs and always feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist <3

[walkerwords]

“Lookin’ Out For Her” Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

GIF CREDIT: MTV/AMC

Request from Anonymous: Hello! I loved Walker Words, it was so well written! Could I request a Daryl x reader where the reader gets hurt and Daryl is the one to patch her up? Give her stitches and bandage her up and the like. If you wanted to keep going and have him take care of her and help her with everyday things while she heals that would be super sweet. Just craving some super fluffy care! Thank you!! Xoxo

Word Count: 4516

Warning: Swearing, Injury, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “Is This Love" by Corinne Bailey Rae

Note: And we are BACK. Thank you for requesting this!

---------

The Virginian sun was beating down on everyone’s necks as you worked in the lumber yard just outside of Alexandria.

Abraham had recruited you to help the Alexandrians build up their community. You didn't think it was that important but you said "yes" nonetheless. You had been travelling with your group for a while now. Meeting them on the road, Carl, Rick’s son, had saved you from a Walker that had pinned you to the ground. According to the young man, they had just lost their farm to a horde and were looking for a new place to stay. 

It was then that you noticed his pregnant mother and wanted to help. 

You hadn’t wanted to be near other people since the beginning of the end, but you had a good feeling about the Grimes family and their people. You were with them when Rick discovered the prison and you hadn’t looked back.

While you were close with Rick, Carl, Michonne, Rosita, and others, Daryl was someone that you had connected with unexpectedly. Daryl Dixon was an enigma, but one you loved to try and figure out. He was someone who you  never would have bonded with if it hadn’t been for the end of the world, but everyday you were grateful for him and the way he always seemed to be looking out for you. 

There was something unspoken between the two of you and any time that you were apart, you were constantly looking over you shoulder in hopes of spotting the archer. Just as you were now as you worked  near Abraham, cutting into the timber that would help reinforce the walls of your new home. 

“Who would’ve thought?” Ford said as he called out to you. 

“What’s that, Red?” you called back, looking at him through the bright rays of sun that shone down on you. 

“You,” Abraham said. “Who would’ve thought you’d be into all of this?”

“Construction?” you asked, raising your brows. 

“No,” he said with a shit-eating grin, “helping.” Your mouth opened in shock at his jab, not finding it particularly funny. 

“Hilarious,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Abraham just began laughing, enjoying himself. You began to ignore him as you tried to hide your own smile when the sound of growls reached your ears. “Fantastic,” you said with a sigh as you leaned over to pick up your weapon, an extra-sharp machete that Rick had given you after the events of Terminus. 

The Walkers came from the South in a group, all meandering towards the site. “Stay sharp!” Ford yelled as he grabbed a knife in one hand and a hammer in the other. While you had your guns, nobody wanted to use ammo if they didn’t have to. The Alexandrians were worried, shuffling back as the Walkers approached, but you and Abraham moved to the front.

You began taking them down quickly with a few slashes of your blade. Two larger Walkers backed you up until your back hit a pile of stacked lumber. You took out the first, but the second moved too fast, falling into you. You fell back, hitting your head on the edge of the wood as you went down. The Walker landed on your arm, pressing it into the metal stake keeping the wood tied together. Groaning out in pain, you shoved your blade into the side of the Walker’s head and shoved it off with disgust. 

“(Y/N)!” Abraham yelled as he ran towards you. He took out the last Walker with a swing of his hammer before arriving at your side. “Ya alright, girl?”

“Fine,” you grunted, taking the hand Abraham stretched out for you to grab. Abraham pulled you to your feet and you ignored the pounding behind your eyes as you brushed sawdust off your jeans.

“Are you sure that you are okay?” he asked, slipping into his sergeant mode. 

“Abe, I am alright,” you said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “Few bumps and bruises ain’t gonna keep me down.”

“Well, just head back alright? We’re gonna be headin’ inside any minute now,” he ordered. 

“I can help clean up,” you said, but he was shaking his head. 

“(Y/N), go,” he said and with a sigh, you saluted the man, picked up your machete, and turned back towards Alexandria.

-------

Arriving back home, you tried to keep steady on your feet, but it was becoming more difficult with each step. 

Nodding to Rick and Glenn who were speaking to Spencer, you continued on towards the house that you were sharing with the Grimes, Michonne, and Daryl. In the distance, you could see Judith being carried around by an amused Tara who swung her around on her hip, trying to make the little girl laugh. 

The ache in your head was the only thing distracting you from the searing pain in your arm. You could also feel thick blood starting to saturate the sleeve of your shirt, but you did your best to ignore it. If you could manage to get home and up to the bathroom unseen, everything would work out. The last thing you needed was for one of your friends to clock your injuries. 

Climbing up the steps to the house, you relaxed as it sounded empty. Dropping the façade, you let the pain show on your face for just a second, but a second was all it took for him to notice. 

“What’s wrong with ya?” Daryl said from a quiet spot on the porch. Still not used to how silent the man could be, you jumped out of your skin at his deep voice. 

“Fucking hell, Daryl!” you exclaimed, grabbing at your chest with your bad arm which only made you wince further. “Way to scare the hell out of me.” Daryl, who had been cleaning his bow, got to his feet and approached you, his brows drawn together. 

“Are ya gonna answer my question?” he asked, looking you over. Suddenly feeling somewhat shy, you took a step back from him, turning so your bad arm was further out of sight. 

“Walkers came up on us at the lumber spot,” you explained. “Everyone’s fine, but I got knocked down. It’s nothing.” 

“Is it also nothin’ that you can’t keep to stand still without staggerin’?” Daryl noticed, gesturing down at your feet. Glancing down, you saw a dizzying pattern of dirty bootprints as if you had horribly failed at a field sobriety test after a night out. 

“I…” you tried as the pain increased. “I may have hit my head on the way down.” 

“Mmhmm. Come on,” Daryl said as he took your arm to keep you steady and led you into the house.

“I can walk, Daryl,” you complained. 

“Yeah, into a wall maybe,” he said with a scoff. You frowned, but didn’t pull away as he took you to the room that he had claimed on the first level. 

Daryl’s room was quite neat, but considering none of you had many belongings, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. Clothes were strewn across a single chair in the corner while his leather jacket was thrown on the unmade bed. Bolts for his bow, old and new, were on a table in front of the window, and tools for the bike Aaron had given him were tossed on top of the dresser.

It was very…Daryl.

“Sit,” he ordered, helping you to the edge of the mattress. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Daryl mirrored the motion before leaving the room quickly. You sat there awkwardly as Daryl went to fetch the medical kit. Being in his room alone, you felt as if you were in high school and in a boy’s room for the first time.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you chastised yourself. This was Daryl, your friend, your partner when it came to runs or watch. However this was also Daryl, the man that had bewitched you body and soul. “Easy there, Darcy,” you said, shaking your head, trying to dislodge your Austen fantasy. 

“What?” Daryl asked as he returned with the supplies. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, averting your eyes. Daryl just hummed a response before sitting next to you and then gesturing for you to remove the flannel shirt you wore over your tank top. Carefully, you pulled down the sleeve and then slipped the shirt off your shoulder, the blood sticking to the fabric. The fresh wound snagged on the threads, causing you to hiss out in pain, but eventually you got it off. “Damn,” you swore, finally getting a look at the cut from the stake. 

“Not exactly shallow,” Daryl said, examining the wound. “It’s gonna leave a scar.”

“What else is new?” you said as a ringing entered your ears. You rubbed at one of them, trying to dislodge the annoying sound. 

“That’s what I thought,” Daryl said. 

“What?” you asked as Daryl began wiping away the extra blood with a towel. 

“Ears ringin’, right?” 

“Maybe…” you said, very aware of how his fingers moved across your blood-speckled skin. 

“Probably a concussion. The dizziness, ringin’, headache that I know ya got… irritability,” he said with a look and you swatted at him. “All shit ya get from a concussion.” You sighed deeply, not liking how the day was going. The last thing you needed was to be benched with your family in a new environment. You weren’t the best fighter, but you were damn good at surviving and you had to stay sharp. 

Daryl finished removing the blood before grabbing the needle and thread. Looking away, you stared at your boots as he tugged your skin back together. “Needles make ya sick?” he said with amusement in his voice. 

“No, but watching you stitch my flesh back together ain’t a walk in the park,” you said and then Daryl had an even softer touch.

“Almost done,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb above the wound, trying to soothe you and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working. “If you don’t tell people when you’re hurt, how are we supposed to help ya?” he asked. 

“It’s not your job,” you said, not really thinking it through. 

“Like hell it’s not,” Daryl shot back, but his tone remained calm. “We look out for each other, (Y/N). That’s what we do.” 

“I know,” you said, letting out another deep breath. “M’sorry.” Daryl tied off the last stitch and cut it before reaching for the bandage. You looked back just as he smoothed the sterile gauze over your arm, pressing it down firmly. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Daryl didn’t respond. Instead, he ran his hand down your arm until it got to your hand. Slipping his fingers into yours, he intertwined your hands together, rubbing his calloused fingers against your own. 

You sat like that for a while, just listening to each other breathe, feeling the pressure of his hands in yours. This happened occasionally and you weren’t exactly sure what it meant. Daryl would sit next to you, press his leg into yours or even reach down and take your hand.

Back at the prison, he would just enter your cell and sit next to you. Even on the road, sometimes, he’d take your hand as you walked, letting it swing between the two of you. Daryl never  spoke, but he always made sure to add some pressure, as if letting you know that he was there. A part of you never wanted to look into it further. You all had seen some horrible things and you knew everyone needed to feel grounded. 

Daryl gravitated towards you to feel...something, you just weren’t sure what that was yet. 

“You know,” you whispered, leaning into him a bit, “there is a doctor here.” Daryl’s grip tightened then, almost as if he was afraid you were about to run. Looking up at you, his eyes were blue fire as he stared into your own. 

“And you ain’t goin’ anywhere near that son of a bitch,” Daryl said. “He ain’t layin’ a single hand on ya, not after what I know what he does to that wife of his.” 

“Daryl,” you said, trying to keep him calm, “Pete’s not gonna hurt me.” 

“I know he’s not,” he said. “Because I’d kill him if he did, I don’t care who the hell he is.”

“Is that you lookin’ out for me?” you asked, reaching up with your other hand to brush a strand of hair from his eye. 

“Just don’t go to him, (Y/N),” Daryl said. “Alright?” If he was one to say “please”, you figured he was about to.

“I could have a concussion, remember?” you pointed out, still feeling the blooming migraine. 

“You’re gonna be alright,” he said. “Herschel told me how to handle that. You’re gonna stay here with me tonight. I gotta keep wakin’ ya up so you don’t end up in a damn coma.” 

“Is that the only reason?” you asked, testing the waters. Daryl looked at you with a raised brow. 

“It’s the one I’m giving ya for now,” Daryl said. 

“Just for now?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said with a quick jut of his chin. You nodded and then leaned against him, feeling the pain echoing through your body. Daryl looped his other arm around your shoulder as you began to drift off. “I got ya, (Y/N),” he whispered as fatigue finally took over and you slumped into the man at your side.

-------

Daryl kept his word and made sure that he woke you up throughout the night. 

Any time his hand shook your shoulder, pulling you from your dreamless sleep, you awoke to his gentle face aglow by the camping lantern. He’d ask your pain level and make you drink water.

Afterwards, Daryl would get you to lay back down, smooth his hand over the side of your head, and you would fall right back to sleep. When he woke you up for the third time, you noticed a makeshift ashtray sitting on the window sill of the open window, the smoke filtering out into the night. Having known Daryl for a while, you knew what it looked like when he was taking watch. 

“Get some sleep,” you whispered as you rolled over to face him as he walked back towards his perch. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “I got hours yesterday.”

“Liar,” you mumbled, already fading. The last thing you saw before you fell asleep again was Daryl leaning back against the window frame, his eyes on you as he flicked his cigarette in his fingers. 

In the morning, your head felt a bit better, but your arm was killing you. Hissing in pain, you opened your eyes and rolled onto your back. Shadows danced on the ceiling from the sunrise and the breeze that floated through Alexandria. 

“Mornin’,” Daryl said from his spot by the window.

“Were you there all night?” you asked, sitting up. 

“Nah, took care of Judith a couple of times,” he said with a shrug. 

“Daryl…” you sighed, shaking your head. 

“It’s nothin’,” he said, waving you off. Getting up, he walked over to where you were and sat down next to you. From his pocket he pulled a pen light of all things. 

“Where did you find that?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Carl grabbed it from asshole’s office,” Daryl explained as he clicked it on and raised it before your eyes. 

“Do you even know what you’re doin’?” you asked. 

“Just follow the light,” he said with a huff and so you did. Daryl checked out your pupils to make sure neither was blown and then stowed the light away. “Arm,” he ordered, grabbing the medical kit from the side table. Moving your arm felt like moving a ton of bricks. Then pain was bad from the wound, but your muscles felt as if needles had been going in them for hours. “Swelling went down a bit,” Daryl said as he gently prodded the skin. “Maybe we can find some meds for the inflammation. I’ll see what we got here.”

“Who would’ve thought?” you said as he changed the bandage on your arm. 

“What?”

“Doctor Dixon,” you mused with a grin. Daryl rolled his eyes, scoffing. 

“Shut up,” he said, but you could tell he found it funny. 

“Guess I’m banned from helping with the lumber for a bit,” you said with a sigh. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Ford’s orders.” 

“Well, I ain’t about to sit here all day and do nothin’,” you said as he finished his task. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood up, testing your balance. When you were satisfied enough with the results, you went in search of your own room, desperate for a change of clothes. 

“Don’t fall!” Daryl called as you exited the room. You sent him a rude gesture over your shoulder, making him laugh. After only tripping twice, you managed to get to your room, grab some new clothes, and hit the shower. It was a hassle keeping your arm dry under the constant spray of water, but you managed well-enough. 

Once you were dressed and feeling somewhat human again, you headed back down stairs to only be met with Daryl. “You need to take it easy,” he said. 

“I’m not going to go hunting Walkers, Daryl,” you said, carefully pulling on your boots. “Maybe Olivia or Aaron could use some help. I know Gabriel has been wanting to get the church back together.”

“Great, let’s go,” he said, leaning against the front door. 

“You taggin’ along?” you asked, pulling yourself up. 

“I gotta make sure ya don’t collapse and take someone down with ya,” he said. With a quick laugh, you placed your knife in its sheath and approached him. Grabbing him by the shoulders, you moved him out of the way. 

“Mmhmm,” you said with a smirk, “well, come on then, Doc,” you teased. 

“Oh my god…” he said, but followed you nonetheless. 

-----

For most of the day, Daryl was by your side. 

No matter what you were doing, he was there. Once you had convinced Gabriel to let you help him, he had you moving some things from Scott’s garage and into the church. Daryl, however, wasn’t on board with all the physical activity you were doing. So, instead of letting you carry the heavy boxes, he was there taking the weight himself. 

Daryl helped you carry anything over a few pounds and if you were being honest with yourself, you were rather enjoying him being so protective. He continued to help you the entire time you were doing errands for the priest and even when Deanna asked you to help move some files from the basement for Maggie to review, Daryl was there. 

He never once complained, but he was talking more than usual. As you completed the tasks for the day, Daryl was asking you questions about your life before the Apocalypse. He wanted to know where you grew up, if you had any siblings, and even what your parents were like. You knew a lot about his upbringing, but you never really spoke about your own. Still, with every question, you answered him honestly and it actually felt nice to talk about your family. 

When he asked about what those first few months after the firebombs dropped on the cities were like, you began to grow quieter. As with everyone you had met in the new world, you had lost people from the first day the Dead began to rise and it hadn’t stopped. You told Daryl about the first people you had met on the road, the ones who had been slaughtered by a group of the Dead as you were escaping the city. It was then that you had decided to take on the world alone if possible. 

That is until the fateful day in which you met Carl Grimes. 

When Daryl asked about any fears you had, you began to laugh. “What’s so damn funny?” he asked as you sat next to him in Aaron’s garage as he worked on the bike. He didn’t want to let you out of his sight and you knew he needed to get some grease on his hands before the day was over. 

“I guess I just never thought we would ever have to talk about our fears again, ya know? Aren’t we all scared of the same thing these days? The Dead, assholes with guns...each other.” 

“Each other?” Daryl echoed. “What do ya mean by that?”

“How well do we really know each other? Eugene lied to us for weeks, Tara was with the Governor, and even the people here are unknowns. I don’t know, Daryl, I guess if I had to talk about any fears it’d be that I’m scared that I don’t know how to trust anyone anymore.”

“That ain’t a bad thing,” Daryl said. “Best to always be on alert, that way ya don’t end up dead or worse.”

“It’s exhausting,” you admitted, rubbing at your temples. 

“Pain?” Daryl asked as soon as he noticed. 

“I’m fine,” you said. 

“(Y/N),” he said, wiping the grease from his hands and crouching down in front of you, gently lifting your chin to look in your eyes. “Tell me.”

“About a seven,” you admitted. 

“It was lower a few hours ago,” he said with a frown. 

“Guess I’ve been working harder than I thought,” you said, resting your head in his hand. Daryl reached back and grabbed his canteen. 

“Drink,” he ordered and you did, sipping the water slowly. Reaching out, he smoothed a hand over your hair gently. “Better?” he asked. 

“Bit,” you admitted. Daryl withdrew his hand then and left you to finish the water, trying to get your hydration back to where it should be. Leaning back against the workbench, you watched as he worked, his shoulders tense as he pulled at gears or unscrewed bolts.

Daryl was always in his element when he worked on mechanics. You remembered the first time you saw him working on one of the cars at the prison. He had seemed so absorbed in everything he was doing, happy to be providing for his new family. 

You knew enough about cars to get by, but you could always learn more and so you observed him whenever you could. Watching Daryl rebuild cars or work on Merle’s bike was one of the main reasons you began to grow closer to each other. 

He looked up from his work then, feeling your eyes on him and he gave you a crooked grin, one that was rare, but one you loved so much.

-----

As day turned to night, Daryl helped you get home. 

The dizziness was back in waves and so he had you by the arm as you walked through the streets of Alexandria. He had tried to carry you, but after refusing over and over, he had relented to just holding you up, keeping a firm grip on you. 

As soon as you entered the house, Michonne and Rick were in the kitchen, making food for the house. “Long day?” Rick asked as you moved past him. 

“Too long,” you said, slumped against Daryl.

“Come on,” Daryl said, “you’re about to crash and burn.” You waved at Rick and Michonne as Daryl all but dragged you back to his room. As soon as you saw the bed, you nearly wept in relief. Daryl had been right, you should have stayed home. “Hungry?” he asked. 

“No,” you said as you sat down. Daryl kneeled down and began to unlace your boots as you held your bruised arm to your chest, trying to relieve some of the pain. “I should get hurt more often if this is the kind of treatment Daryl Dixon gives me,” you said with a lazy smile. Daryl looked at you with an exhausted look. 

“Let’s not, alright?” he said as he finished with your boots. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said as you flopped back onto the bed. Daryl got up and joined you, sitting next to you. With your good arm, you reached up and tugged him down beside you, his body lying alongside yours. Turning your head to look at him, he was already looking at you through messy strands of hair. 

Slowly, you lifted up your hand and offered it to him. Daryl took it in his own and laced your fingers together, his eyes never leaving yours. “Your hands are warm,” you said in the low light of the room, your voice barely above a whisper as if it would crack the tension. 

“Yours are cold,” he said back, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “I should check your arm,” he said, but you shook your head. 

“It can wait,” you whispered, looking into those blue eyes of his as he pinned you to the planet with his gaze. “Thank you, for lookin’ out for me today,” you said, tightening your hold on his hand. 

“Always,” he said. “I’m always gonna be there for ya.” You gave him a small smile then as a shiver took over your body. “Cold?” he asked, his brow furrowing. 

“Bit,” you said with a shrug. Daryl reached behind him and grabbed one of the blankets and draped it over you, careful not to let go of your hand the entire time. His other arm was pressed to your side as he tried to adjust the blanket, but it lingered, adding pressure to your body. “Stay,” you whispered to him. 

“This is my room,” he said, looking down at you. 

“Smartass,” you said, trying not to break his gaze. 

“I ain’t going anywhere,” he said as he sat up a bit higher and then pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was gentle, but warm, his lips leaving a spot of heat on your skin. When he pulled back, you locked eyes with him again before slipping your hand out of his and reaching up to drag your fingers through his hair. Getting to his neck, you pulled him down to you and he met you there, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. His lips were heavy on yours and he tasted exactly as you had imagined. 

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “Your head needs to heal,” he whispered, not wanting to move any further away from you. 

“My mind has never been more clear,” you said, grabbing his face again. “Kiss me, Doc,” you said and with a chuckle, he did.

Daryl lay with you, kissing you, holding you, and never once leaving your side as you finally succumbed to sleep, your body desperately needing to heal. Looking down at you in the low light of the lantern, he promised that would never let you go, not now, not ever. 

He had asked you about your fears, but you hadn’t asked him about his. In truth, he was only scared of one thing and that was losing you.

TAGS: @thanossexual​ @felicisimor​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @lucillethings​ @stark-dreams​ @huffledor-able541​

[niksfics]

↬ WHAT COULD NEVER BE

↬ PAIRINGS: bokuto x f!reader? (Side) atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: nothing really. Just some heart wrenching angst, bokuto is careless with your heart I guess

↬ SUMMARY: you fell in love with your bestfriend but your bestfriend has never felt that way about you.

↬ A/N: I totally did not cry while writing this pft

↬ WC: | 1.7K |

My first year at Fukurodani had been lonely to say the least. I had been new to the area wheras everyone else had gone to middle school together, and I'd been the odd one out. The cliques had already formed leaving me to fend for myself.

My second year though I'd seen a flyer for the boys volleyball team needing a new manager. I signed my name against my better judgement and hoped for the best. When I'd shown up to the first practice game after a talk with the coach, I had realized signing that flyer was the best decision I'd ever made.

Bokuto Kotaro a second year -at the time- like myself was just a ball of energy. He was an honest to god enigma. Being around him was just intoxicating, a rollercoaster you never wanted off of. We got along fairly quickly and him and the rest of the boys had made my second year a little less lonely.

In my third year I was always greeted in the halls, by my fellow classmates who'd known me because of Bo. When he'd learned that I was basically friendless in my second year he'd gone around and introduced me to just about everyone he knew. Eyes shining with love and happiness. That was the third time my heart had skipped a beat because of him.

By the time I realized the butterflies in my stomach increased as the months went by in my eventful second year, the more I realized I was falling in love with my best friend. My heart thumping against my rib cage every time he'd look at me. My skin lighting on fire as his skin brushed against mine. My breath catching in my throat whenever he'd look at me a certain way, or whenever he leaned down to whisper something in my ear. He made me feel breathless and I could never get tired of it.

The day I realized my bestfriend, Bokuto Kotaro, just might not be in love with me as well was the day I'd stayed late after practice to put some of the equipment in the storage closet. I'd been proudly wearing his jacket. It swallowing my body because that's just how big he was. He'd rounded the corner into the closet and smiled at me sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Y/n, I was wondering," he'd paused and my heart beat against my chest almost as if it was gonna burst right through my skin. The breathless feeling coming back and I felt myself starting to smile until he'd finished his sentence, "well uhm... I was wondering if I could have my jacket back, Koyuki is cold and I don't want her to freeze," my smile dropped in an instant. The way he'd said her name, it was.. well it was different than whenever he said anybody else's name. "Oh yeah sure Bo, lemme just put this stuff down really fast," I'd turned from him nose stinging from the tears welling up in my eyes, and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat down. Suppressing every single emotion in my body.

I'd handed him his stupid jacket back and slammed the door closed as I watched him drape it over her shoulders and she smiled brightly at him.

I should have known then. Known that he was falling head over heels for akaashi's twin sister, because when bokuto falls in love it's not quiet, its loud and powerful and passionate and it'll swallow you up if you let it.

Koyuki akaashi did just that. Let his love consume her like the raging fire it was. They were a beautiful couple. A match made in heaven.

She was beautiful and confident. His personal little cheerleader. She was undoubtedly the most wanted girl at our school. She was perfect for him. I knew that. I felt it, and I tried my damn hardest to be so happy for him. To love him differently. The way he loved me. Platonically. I watched them fall in love.

Watched him kiss her with a passion I only dreamt of feeling from him. They held looks of love whenever they looked at the other. The hardest part though. The hardest part was she was the kindest, sweetest girl you'd ever meet. A heather. No hidden agenda. Nothing like those girlfriends in the cliche best friends to lovers trope books. She welcomed me as a friend and fully supported me as bokutos bestfriend. She was impossible to hate, and how could I hate her when she was the reason my best friend smiled the way he did. The reason his breath caught in his throat just the way mine did.

When we graduated and I'd become a cheerleader for the MSBY Black Jackals, because I'd promise Bo to not leave his side. Promised I'd followed him to the ends of the earth. We were y/n and bokuto. We came in a pair. It was hard. Hard being around him when he'd talk about Koyuki and how he couldn't wait to feel her again and how it was so hard being away from the person you love more than anything, and then he'd say "you know?" With his puppy eyes, and I'd just shrug and agree.

The way I'd wished and hoped that it wouldn't last. That somewhere in bokutos head he'd realize she wasn't the one. That they'd get in a fight too big to cool down from. The more I'd wished that the more I felt guilty. Why would I wanna ruin my bestfriends happiness? Why would I wish that to go away?

So when shoyo hinata asked me on a date, I'd excitedly agreed. Finally I could, maybe, forget about the big himbo I'd fallen for. No. In fact that made it worse. I found myself comparing hinata to bokuto. The way hinata walked, the way hinata talked, the way Hinata's touch didn't make my skin burn up quite like bokutos did. Me and hinata didn't last. It was a disease, and I was dying. Being eaten from the inside out. My very heart collapsing in on it self, and when he'd proposed to her. God, the way I cried. The way I ached. The way my chest clenched and the tears finally fell.

"Y/n, what's wrong?! What did I do?" He asked desperately grabbing my wrist as I'd gasped and tried to turn.

"Nothing Bo, I'm so happy for you!! These are happy tears Ko!"

He smiled big and bright. Bokuto wasn't dense. He was more aware of anyone's feelings than he was of his own. Either he saw the pain in my eyes that night and ignored it, or he saw it and in fear of our friendship crumbling right in our hands that night swallowed down what he'd wanted to say. It was the latter.

The day of the wedding finally came. Here I stood, next to my favorite boy. Waiting at the end of the aisle for a girl who was not me. My bestfriend, the boy.. no man I'm in love with. Tearing up as is his wife to be walked closer towards him.

Tears gathered in my eyes and I forced a smile as they fell down my face. Atsumu tapped my shoulder. I turned and he'd held open his arms. I'd buried myself in the tight embrace of the setter who knew. Who knew the story. Who'd held me as I cried many times. Times just like this one. He kisses the the top of my head and I turn back around catching the eyes of bokuto.

After the ceremony everyone had gathered at a venue for the reception. I walked away from the laughter. The buzz of the party and the cheers as the groom dipped the bride and kissed her.

Unfortunately for me, he'd soon noticed my absence and come to find me. "Y/n" he whispered hand closing over my elbow, and a warm, salty tear rolled down my cheek and stopped at the corner of my lip.

I turned away from the salty water washing over my feet, and my toes dug in the sand. "Don't touch me" I tried my hardest to sound determined, but my voice cracked.

"What was it? What does she have that I don't Ko?" I asked. Desperate. Reaching for anything. Grasping at straws.

That's when I looked at him, and his eyes said it all. He was never very good at hiding his emotions. His eyes always gave him away, and he'd known. He knew the whole time. I knew that now.

Lovely Bokuto Kotaro had known all along.

He was quiet for a minute. "You have everything that she has and more." He said what he felt and bokuto never lied. He hates lies I knew that.

"Then why not me? I know you knew. You knew the minute we were sitting in that boba shop and you looked at me staring at your hands interlocked. I know you realised. Then and there." I pulled my elbow away from his hand.

"I love you y/n, just not in the way I love koyuki," he says it so casually as if he'd just told me he'd left my purse on the counter. Not tenderly. Not carefully.

My eyes closed collecting myself, "don't you think I know that Bokuto? Don't you think I've cried over that every night for years? I know you do, and God it's so fucking hard to be happy, and bite my tongue. To swallow down the word vomit, because I love you so fucking much, kotaro. I've loved you since the middle of our second year, but now you've gotta let me go. Leave me behind." I turned back facing him again.

"Please don't ask that of me, you know I can't do that. That'll kill me sweets-" I stopped him and turned to glare at him, "you can't fucking call me that anymore. That's a pet name for lovers, not for a man who is married to use on his bestfriend."

You could hear someone walking towards you guys, "y/n?" You knew that voice. "I'm here tsumu," you sighed. Moving around bokuto and walking closer to the setter. "Just... just.. enjoy you're honeymoon Bokuto, and please let me move on and heal. Congratulations on your marriage"

You smiled softly at him kissing bokuto on the cheek as you took the hand of the blonde. Atsumu smiled down at you, heart beating faster just like yours did the day you made eye contact with bokuto for the very first time.

[bakatenshii]

Blitz

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

word count: 2.5k

TW: 18+, smut, exhibitionism, a spritz of omorashi

A/N: this is completely diff from what I’m used to and comfy with; it’s truly the softest thing I’ll ever write— for the real angel, Weese, who welcomed me into my first ever fandom with open arms. I wouldn’t be here without you, wouldn’t have met any of my best friends were it not for you. From the bottom of boku no kokoro, Happy Birthday <33

Weese’s Birthday Bash masterlist

blitz

/blits/

a sudden, energetic, and concerted effort, typically on a specific task.

(slang) heavily intoxicated

He gives credit where credit’s due, and in all fairness, you have been well-behaved, glued to his side til 2am that night. Might even be a new record; usually you’d have gone off and disappeared at the strike of midnight like you’ve got a pumpkin carriage awaiting, only it brings you to a different destination each time.

Whiskey mixers generally mean you end up at some twenty-four seven conbini chatting up the cashier to give you the karaage for a discounted price because you’ve ‘lost your wallet’. It’s never lost; Ushijima knows this because he’s chained it to your belt, lil lobster claw too rickety for your drunk fingers to maneuver.

Tequila shots are the killer; the ones that get his protective mode on overdrive, eyes scanning the streets littered with stumbling drunks until he finds his stumbling drunk. 

It’s currently quarter to three, which means it’s been a solid twenty minutes since you’ve wandered off. If he calculates the rate of distance in your drunken state, you couldn’t have traveled that far— two streets down, at most. He hopes, anyways.

Ushijima doesn’t like going out, doesn’t quite get the appeal of being shoved into crowds of people in a cramped room with perspiration mixing with other spilled fluids coating sticky skin. ‘It’s just ‘cause you’re too la-’ a hiccup, a giggle, ‘large, ushi.’ is your usual response. ‘Take up too much space.’

Ushijima goes out because you go out, and when you go out, your Find My Friends icon seems to like playing Pac-Man, navigating through the map like you’ve got dots to clear past every street and building. It worries him. So he goes out.

Tequila shots usually bring you to another club, whichever looks the most bustling, because you flock to crowds, like moth to flame. It’s your first character flaw.

“I’m not that drunk,” he whips his head to see your frame swaying outside the queue of a club entrance, bouncer leaning in close, too close.

Your second character flaw is that you’re too friendly. You tell him he’s too cold, too curt, but he thinks you’re just too outgoing. This is what happens when you’re so sociable.

It only takes him two long strides to cross over the street, extend out one long arm over to your shoulder, and pull you into his chest. The bouncer looks up at him, neck craning probably more than he’s used to, before spitting on the floor and turning back.

“Toooooshi,” he doesn’t think his name has that many vowels, but you’re pawing at his shirt, trying and failing to slither an arm around his waist. “‘m hungry.”

This is standard, this is the usual routine. He’s used to this now, “let’s go home, we have food at home.” After the third night out, he’s made a habit out of cooking before you leave. Because you’re always hungry, you always— “want Maccas,” you’re giggling.

“McDonald’s is going to be closed.” It’s a fact, there’s a slim chance you’ll make it before three, no point in wasting time. Besides, there’s food at home.

But you’re tugging at his arm and dragging him down the street, and he’s letting you, because the best way to appease you is to let you see for yourself. You’re bouncing with excited chirps, skipping down the road with grace that will always impress him given the stilts attached to your feet.

McDonald’s is closed.

It’s like he said, so he allows you to pout and sulk for a minute, run a hand down your back in comfort, before taking out his phone to call a cab. He can feel your shoulder bump into his chest, hands fidgeting with the hem of your short dress, “what’s wrong?”

You’re blushing, cheeks tinting over with a light shade of pink illuminated by the bright yellow lights, and it’d be cute if he wasn’t worried. “What’s wrong?”

Another tug at the black fabric, eyelashes fluttering to point towards the wall, the sign; anywhere except him. “I need to pee.”

It comes out so quietly, so docile, a contrast to your otherwise boisterous drunken state. He leans down, face brushing past your hair until it’s only a mere inch away.

“What’s that?”

He watches as your glossed lips push out into a pout, huffing out a, “I need to pee, Toshi, I need the toilet.” Your heels clack on the gravel a few times as if to prove a point.

“I’m calling a cab right now,” he reassures you, “we’ll be home soon.”

You don’t seem reassured. You seem more anxious, if anything. “No, Toshi, I need to pee now,” he can feel your fingers fidgeting with his shirt, yanking the fabric in nervous twitches.

He watches you chew on your lip, willing a solution out from the pink gloss staining your teeth, any solution—

“Alley.”

It’s barely left his mouth before your head’s whipping to glance at the dark narrow street hidden behind the fast food joint. It’s tight, or maybe you’re right, he’s just too broad, but he barely fits down the cramped road.

You’re not moving, though, just staring up at him expectantly as if sending him a message, a signal. He doesn’t really get it. “It’s fine, there’s no one on the streets right now.”

Your bottom lip snags under your teeth, doe eyes looking up through fluttering lashes as you shake your head. The tint on your cheeks grow darker, and he takes a few steps forward, shadowing your smaller frame in his large silhouette. “I’ll block you, you can go now.”

Ushijima’s not the best with people, he’s always been told this. He knows it himself, but he thinks he knows you pretty well, at least.

He’s lost.

He’s waiting for you to say something, anything, an explanation for your odd behaviour, but instead he feels dainty fingers tug on his shirt again before shoving him lightly.

“Turn around,” you won’t look at him, eyes fixed on the broken bottle on the dingy alleyway floor, “Don’t look.”

People are a mystery to Ushijima, but at this moment, you are an enigma.

All 200 pounds of pure muscle on him is stagnant. He’s confused; he’s seen you naked, seen you from all angles in all sorts of positions, he’s brushed his teeth while you were using the toilet before— he doesn’t get it. So he tells you.

Your fists meekly punch at his arm, at his chest, wherever they can reach, “It’s embarrassing,” you’re pouting now, and he thinks it’s cute. Under any other circumstances he’d lean over and kiss you, but not right now. Right now he wants understand what’s going on up in your mind.

“Why?”

It sets you into a frustrated huff, cheeks puffing out before a dejected sigh, “fine, whatever,” and then you’re squatting down, finally, to his relief. Your dress is hitched up only a fraction before he hears the trickling, but you don’t stand up when it stops.

His whole body freezes at the feeling of a warm hand pawing at his crotch. “What are you doing?” He snatches your hand off by the wrist, pulling it into him to stand you up; you don’t stand up— you fall, on your knees in front of him.

He’s used to you being a handful when you’re drunk, used to you falling all over the place, but the alleyway is soiled, filthy, not entirely appropriate for the thoughts he’s having with you on your knees. So he’s trying again, reaching down to grab hold of both your hands this time, and lugging you up.

You don’t budge, don’t even glance up at him, and he has half the heart to reach down and carry you out, but another hand lands on his crotch again and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the strain in his trousers.

“Toooooooshi,” you’re still not looking up at him, eyes fixated on the growing tent he’s presenting in front of your face. Another soft touch, another purr, and Ushijima knows he’s a lost cause.

He lets go of your wrists, bending down to wrap an arm around your knees and picks you up before standing you back up against the wall.

“Spread your legs.” It’s not really a suggestion.

He watches as you comply, thighs parting as far as the black lace still bound around them will allow, so he rips it down before pocketing it.

He can hear your whines of complaint, it’s your favourite pair, but it’s all drowned out with a gasp as he buries his face into your wet cunt. His hands wrap behind your thighs, large palms pushing them apart until they rest over his shoulders.

His tongue flicks up your drooling slit, lapping at the juices dribbling out your needy hole and down his chin. You’re whimpering now, hands shoving at his face, “stop, Toshi, I—” he looks up at you, gaze piercing through your flushed expression, “I just peed, ‘ts gross.”

“I know.”

“Toshi we’re—” a moan, nails digging into his scalp when he dips his tongue into your clenching hole, “in public, please,” your face whips to the side, anxiously scanning for passerby’s.

“I know,” he echos with a harsh squeeze of your thighs, fucking you down onto his tongue. He can feel a hand threading through his hair, gripping and pulling while the other is obediently clamped over your mouth in an attempt to muffle wanton moans.

“Toshi, stop,” you’re crying now, legs around his head trembling with every lap and lick into your dripping cunt, nose grazing that sensitive bud as he presses your body into the wall. The fingers meekly pushing at his face are chased by your hips bucking against it, and he can feel your hole clench around his muscle.

He doesn’t stop. 

He doesn’t stop because he can feel you coming undone, feel your tight cunny quiver with every thrust— and you do, with a loud sob of his name, before he removes his hand from under to clamp over your mouth.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” he doesn’t think you can hear him, your eyes rolling back and tongue pressing into the pads of his fingers.

He can still see your hole quivering when he stands back up and unbuckles his trousers. His aching erection springs free with a tug of his waistband, snapping up and wetting his shirt with pre.

Normally he would’ve prepared you better, laid you on your back and fucked you on his tongue and thick fingers until you’re wailing his name, legs shaking with the overstimulation. But he doesn’t have that luxury now, doesn’t have the soft mattress, the plush bedding to sink you into; he only has the brick wall digging into your back in a dingy alleyway.

So he sinks his cock into your drooling cunt, pushing his cockhead through the first ring of muscle. There’s nails clawing at his shoulders, back of his neck, anywhere they can reach, anywhere they can grasp.

It’s tight, so tight he doesn’t think he can fit, thinks he should’ve prepared you after all, but one look down at your tear-stricken face crumbles any inhibitions. His hips snap forward in the same breath his large palms find themselves back under your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.

The jagged wall is probably digging into your back, and normally he would’ve tried to appease the pain, shift the angle so you’re more comfortable, but right now all he can think about are your doughy walls sucking his cock in, one slow inch at a time.

It’s excruciating how tight you are; by the third inch you’re throwing your head into the crook of his neck, nails digging into his back trying to ease the stretch— Ushijima’s trying, too; trying to make sure he doesn’t drown in the feel of your fluttering walls and snap his hips forward until he can feel the kiss of your cervix on his cockhead.

It doesn’t work, not when you’re chanting his name like a mantra, crying about how full you feel, how much he’s stretching you out— you can feel him in your stomach.

He drops your body down into the thrust of his hips and buries his cock to hilt. Five seconds, then ten, then thirty; he lets you catch your breath, catch his breath, before you’re whimpering in his ear begging him to move.

There’s no time for modesty, an alleyway is hardly the setting for soft gentle sex. With a vice grip in the flesh of your ass, he hugs you into his chest and steadies a hand on the wall behind you.

He can feel your legs attempt to wrap around the width of his hips, his waist, can feel you cooing soft moans into his ears, can hear you sobbing his name like it’s the only word you know. Every piston of his hip echoes in the cramped alleyway, heavy balls papping against your mound.

He’s breathing in your moans, letting himself drown in you desperate whines of his name, “cum in me, Toshi, fill me up”— he’s shoving your pliant body into the harsh wall, arm moving down from the jagged surface to grip the soft flesh under your thigh.

In one swift movement he’s pinned your knees to your ears, limp calves bouncing off his sturdy shoulders as he pounds into you at an unrelenting pace.

Your moans turn to sobs, wails of Toshi, Toshi, Toshi; his breaths turn to grunts into promises to breed you so good, fill you up with his cum until it’s dripping out of your sweet lil cunny. There’s mini crescents marking up the back of his neck, dark purples and yellows running up along yours as he suctions onto new blank patches of skin.

Loud, unrhythmic squelching echos in the alleyway, his arms bouncing you onto his length until you twitch, spasm around his cock, and you’re coming undone for the second time that night with his name spilling out in broken sobs.

Ushijima doesn’t stop, fucks you through your squeals and shoves until he feels your greedy cunt milking his cock again, then he’s spilling into you with hot ropes of cum.

He doesn’t stop until your body’s gone pliant caged inside his, knees still pushed against the wall and saliva dribbling past your lolling tongue down to your messy pussy, mixing with creams of cum and slick and drool.

One limb at a time, he unfolds you and carries you in his arms, cradling your limp body into his chest. He looks down, admires your hazy gaze, pupils blown, and presses a gentle kiss onto your forehead.

A soft hum leaves your lips, or maybe a giggle, but you’re squirming in his arms, body leaning up until he can feel your soft lips grazing his ear.

“Toooshi,” you drawl, and he almost chokes at how fucked out you sound, the rasp in your voice sending dangerous jolts down to his no longer softening cock.

“Hm?” He’s debating on flagging a cab instead of calling one; can’t really reach into his pocket when you’re in his arms.

“Want Maccas.”