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hxnbi · 7 months ago

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NOT SO SECRET — inumaki toge

synopsis: you and toge were having a secret rendezvous, far away from all the others, or so you both thought

tags: fluff, gn reader

word count: 1.4k

“Look at him. He’s infatuated....”

Maki sighed, rolling her eyes at the scene happening around the corner between you and Toge—that is, if she could even see anything, as Panda was practically blocking her vision.

Just peering from the bushes she and Panda were hiding from, they could see you two—very explicitly, she might mention, holding hands.

She knew something was afoot when Toge grabbed you by the hand the second you finished your dinner and dragged you somewhere, unbeknownst to her. Their curiosity was piqued, only for the two to find you two, alone, sitting together on a bench, enjoying each other's company in the moonlight.

Or so you two thought.

Cue having Maki and Panda staring at you two with wide-eyed eyes and curious spirits. Well, for Panda, anyway.

Now, they were a reasonable distance away—enough to see you two together but not enough to hear a word, and neither could you guys.

Maki squinted her eyes, trying to decipher what exactly was going on between you and Toge through the dense and overgrown foliage that was Panda’s ass.

Your silhouette was barely discernible against all the bushes blocking her view and the dimming twilight in the sky, but the subtle gestures and hushed whispers from both your and Toge’s figures spoke volumes.

Maki leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued despite her initial reluctance. She could not lie. Seeing Toge this intimate with someone was somewhat unexpected, unsettling even.

“...Don’t you think that Toge’s demeanour is a lot more, different? We’ve never seen this before from him,” she noted, squinting her eyes at the bench you both were still sitting on, now laughing.

“Shush Maki! We’re getting to the good part!”

Maki sweatdropped at how invested Panda was. At this rate, she may as well think that Panda was also included in your guys’ relationship. “Good part, my ass. The hell are we even stalking them for?”

“For reconnaissance,” Panda replied matter-of-factly.

“Well, yeah. They’re definitely close,” she shrugged begrudgingly, her voice hardly even audible. After all, they were stalking you two from behind the bushes. “But dating? I’m not so sure.”

“What else could it be? Look at the way they’re leaning towards each other like they’re sharing some big secret!” Panda leaned his body forward eagerly, eyes wide with excitement. He appeared to be more invested than Maki was, as if this were all some kind of romance drama in real-time.

But Maki, ever being the voice of reason, remained skeptical, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. “Maybe they’re just friends?” she clicked her tongue sarcastically, still in a whisper. “Ever heard of that? We can’t jump to conclusions based on a few stolen glances.”

But the Panda was undeterred. “I doubt it. I believe that there’s definitely something more. I can feel it in my bones!”

“You’re being delusional.”

“Hello, everyone~!” a voice suddenly interrupted their conversation, startling them into silence.

‘Oh god…’

“It’s your good-looking teacher, Gojo Satoru, here to— What are you both doing, hunched down in the bushes like that? Oh no! Don’t tell me you’re now homeless!”

Maki shot her teacher a withering glare, her patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

“Now, what are you doing here, huh, Satoru?”

“So cruel!” he cried out mockingly, but his trademark arrogance and his shit-eating, mischievous grin were on full display. "I was just thinking of checking in on my favourite students, of course. But it seems like I've stumbled upon something much more interesting."

‘...Ugh.’

That’s it. All hope was lost. A lack of privacy did not exist. Not in Jujutsu Tech, where the most unlikely of people—or animals, for that matter—were always watching.

“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see them here alone again since the last time,” Gojo hummed.

“They’ve been meeting here in this exact spot for the last four days now,” Maki noted. “You think theres something going on that we don’t know about?”

“Well, of course!” Panda said a matter of factly. “Isn’t it clear that they're dating?”

All eyeballs shifted to the scene where they saw Toge holding your hand close to his face, and you leaned on his shoulder. The intimacy between you two was evident even from a distance from where they were watching.

Toge’s fingers brushed past yours before grabbing them firmly, your fingers intertwining with his. Toge's gaze met yours, and a soft smile graced both your lips. A silent exchange of warmth without an onigiri ingredient was said from Toge in sight.

“Oh shit! They’re getting handsy!” Gojo gasped, seeing this happen first-hand.

“Be quiet,” Maki hissed. “You’re loud-ass is going to get us caught.”

“That's right. We’re just getting to the good part!” Panda added with a playful smirk, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle before them. It was comedic, really.

Maki sighed. There really was no reasoning with those idiots…

Gojo bent over to Maki and Panda. “So, are we just waiting for them to make out?”

A tick mark appeared on Maki and Panda’s faces. ‘This guy…’

Just as they were spying on you two, Panda’s hefty weight, along with the shock of Gojo’s surprise appearance, poured over the scene. But their attempt at stealth was quickly foiled as they toppled over each other like a cascade of dominoes, making a loud noise, something that you two very much picked up on in this seemingly quiet space.

Caught off guard, you and Toge stood up and turned towards the commotion, eyebrows raised in surprise, eyes and ears attuned to the noise that had just come unexpectedly from behind where you once sat.

“What the—”

Maki began to sweat. ‘Just great.’

You and Toge, now standing before the toppled mound of bodies, exchanged a puzzled glance, eyebrows raised in surprise, only to be quickly replaced by amusement at the spectacle unfolding before your eyes.

“Salmon salmon.”

“Huh? Maki, Panda, and— Gojo too!?”

Everyone’s necks turned, only to see you and Toge standing before them, holding hands. You and Toge exchanged knowing glances.

“Ahem…” your eyes flushed in embarrassment, your voice faltering as your hand remained enlaced with Toge’s, glued to the moment. “Did you… see everything?”

Caught red-handed, their faces flushed with embarrassment. Well, Maki, mostly. Panda and Gojo could not give a single damn; they were more interested in the fact that you were there.

Finally, they asked the burning question, "Are you and Toge dating?"

They exchanged looks filled with curiosity and anticipation, making you sweat. Their gazes shifted between you and Toge, practically demanding an answer from either of you, clearly not willing to take no for an answer.

There was silence, right before…

“Huh? Oh, yeah, we are.”

“WHAT?!”

“I was right!” Panda started dancing around.

With a tilt of your head, you turned to face the pale blonde, who blinked at you, all with the innocent expression he always had.

“Toge, I thought you said you were going to tell them?”

“Tuna.”

The boy gave you a sheepish expression, Toge’s small muffles speaking through the layered shirt he always wore. You inhaled deeply and continued to hold his hand, tightening your grip. “Don’t worry. I could never get mad at you, Toge. Like, come on, just look at the expressions on their faces. The poor souls.”

‘Huh…?’

Toge's gaze softened at your words as he nodded in agreement. "Salmon roe.”

His expression said it all. It was one of adoration, to be able to hold your hand and spend time with you, that brought him immeasurable joy in his quiet world. One that the others hardly ever saw in the pale-haired boy let alone a mere smile, all but hidden away under his mask, quite literally.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his choice of words. You rubbed at his straightened, pale hair, utterly oblivious to the incredulous stares of Maki, Panda, and Gojo.

“Yes, yes, salmon roe,” you replied with a wide grin of your own, feeling a warmth spread fruitfully in your chest as if the three were mere background props in your own quirky sitcom.

As for the second years? Well…

‘Is this supposed to be romantic…?’ they all sweatdropped.

Heaven forbid the words of onigiri ingredients could ever be considered “romantic.”

“Are we… interrupting something personal here?” Panda neared closer to Maki, whispering in her ear, only to receive a punch right in the gullet.

“So, were we the first to learn about your relationship?” Panda sparkled as if they weren’t just interrupting a moment of yours a moment ago, or even that he was just punched. Having a puppy body has its advantages, perhaps.

“Oh,” you blinked. “No. It was Ijichi, actually, a few days ago.”

“SO YOU BOTH WERE GETTING HANDSY!”

“Not really. He walked into the classroom while me and Toge were in the middle of-”

“I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! YOU TWO REALLY WERE MAKING OUT!”

“That’s not it either…”

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

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deantfwinchester · 5 months ago

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Neighborhood Walgreens

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader like always

This one takes place before the other two timeline-wise, I guess - just a few months into knowing each other. No established relationship, and some ridiculous flirting.

Summary: A busy, sick Joel gets a little care from the people in his life - including the neighbor and friend he's been crushing on for the past few months.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff-fluffity-fluff. Bout to get a standing root canal appointment, tbh.

A/N: The bulleted fics are piling up in the notes app, but boy are the well-crafted girlies a bit of a trek. More to come, if the functioning part of my brain has anything to say about it.

Word Count: 5.9k. absolute unit.

——————————————————————————————

Joel wakes up feeling like shit. He’d felt a bit of a scratch in his throat the night before, but tried to write it off as allergies or something - until he woke himself up coughing before his alarm could even go off. He knows he has a cold the second he tries to breathe through his nose - no dice. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it’s pounding before he can open his eyes. He shivers when he moves the blankets aside to get up, and each muscle in his body begs him to crawl back into bed.

Ever the trooper, he rises anyway, heading to the bathroom and checking the medicine cabinet to find what he’d feared - no cold medicine. Awesome. Resigning himself to trucking through the day, he blows his nose, pops a couple tylenol, and gets ready. His respiratory system isn’t too fond of the assault, however, and he’s coughing up a lung before he can finish. Today should be fun. He’ll need to stop by the drugstore on his way home.

Once he’s dressed for the day (trying his best to look alive), Joel trudges down the stairs to see Sarah at the kitchen table, half-eaten bowl of cereal in one hand and a pencil in the other as she finishes the last of her homework. She hears him shuffle in and looks up just as he sniffles, locking eyes right before he can still his features into a facade of rested wellness. The look on her face tells him he’s not getting away without worrying her, and he hates that. She doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to the coffee pot, she just watches him, only speaking up when he shivers at the mug’s warmth in his hands. The weather’s typical for an early autumn morning, but nowhere near chilly. Though the temperature should drop today with rain in the forecast, Sarah knows her dad and he’s never cold.

“You know, I could just head next door. I guarantee she’d be happy to drive me,” she says smiling into her textbook, trying to be nonchalant with her concern. She was referring to you, their neighbor of a few months now, who’d given Sarah rides, helped her with homework, or checked in on her when Joel needed. You’d been around since the day you moved in, and neither of them could complain — certainly not Joel. Maybe she was hoping to fluster him a bit as well, suspecting his feelings for you were a bit more than the friendship he insists they are.

He chokes on his coffee and coughs a little, shaking his head as she closes her book and begins leafing through her notes. Joel’s been worried enough lately that he’s taking advantage of your kindness too much — afraid he’s inconveniencing you and you’re too nice to say no, despite your insistence to help on more than one occasion. Besides, he already feels crappy, the last thing he wants today is for you to see him like this, hardly able to keep himself together. Or worse, to get you sick as well. Absolutely not. He opens his mouth to respond, but she speaks first. “It’s not like she hasn’t before. Maybe just one day? You need…,” she trails off, losing the battle with her expression as her eyebrows knit together and she notes the pallor and exhaustion on his own.

He takes a swig of his coffee hoping it will soothe the growing soreness in his throat before responding, “That’s alright kiddo, I-,” but the words catch in his throat before he can finish, and he cuts himself off coughing harshly into his elbow. Sarah grabs a glass and fills it with water while he coughs, longer than he has all morning, and hands it to him when he catches his breath. The look on her face is challenging now — she knows she won’t win this game, but she’ll still put up a fight. Predictably, Joel continues his previous thought as though unfazed by the fit, though his voice tells another story. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, babygirl,” he says hoarsely, waving her off with a sniffle. “You got a science test today, worry about that. You feelin’ ready?,” he asks, subverting talk of both his illness and mentions of you.

Sarah relents with a sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, gesturing to the textbook and notes on the table. He’s more confident than she is, and he smiles brightly at her.

“You’ve got it down, not a doubt in my mind. Now finish getting your stuff together before we’re late. I’ll get the car runnin’,” he says, moving his coffee to a travel thermos before grabbing her lunch from the refrigerator and getting it packed up. She looks back at him hesitantly before leaving the room to gather the last of her school stuff.

Joel’s got his coffee in hand and Sarah’s lunch in the seat next to him as he waits in the truck. It’s nice enough outside, but he’s still chilly, and wonders if he should run back in and grab a jacket. He forgoes this idea when he realizes Sarah’d put up more of a fight if he did, knowing he’s warm-blooded as all hell, and vocally hot until at least November. Not to mention Tommy’d see right through him the second he shows up to work. No, it’s just early in the morning. The day will warm as the sun climbs to its apex for sure. He’ll be alright.

While he’s thinking too hard through the fog in his head, Sarah climbs into the car with her backpack on, pulling it off to throw into the seat next to her. But not before she’s placed two additions in the seat between them - a box of tissues and a water bottle. She doesn’t say anything to him, just gives him a knowing look before loading her lunch into her backpack. Joel stills a moment — he’s not surprised by her care, but softens at the gesture. As Sarah shuts the passenger door, Joel wonders how the hell she turned out so sweet, and kisses the top of her head in silent thanks before pushing the truck into drive.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Joel gets to work, his headache has bloomed into pain behind his eyes, leaving him squinting hard in the bright morning sun. He’s also used quite a few tissues since he dropped Sarah off at school. He’s definitely grateful she thought to grab them, but unfortunately, his congestion won’t budge. He’s not naive enough to think he can hide from Tommy, but hopeful that his brother might at least leave him be today. He can muscle through if he’s just working and not being nagged by his brother for hours. He’s sure of it.

—--------------------

Tommy’s not an idiot, but he lets him slide for the first few hours. It’s clear he knows something’s wrong. Joel’s a quiet enough guy, but never this silent, only speaking up when the work demands. He noticed when Joel got out of the truck this morning looking particularly drained - both in face and demeanor - and had checked in as casually as possible, hoping to avoid his brother’s evident and exceptional irritability. Joel, of course, had promptly brushed him off and clammed up for the remainder of the morning. Speaking only when spoken to hadn’t stopped Joel from making noise, though, much to his brother’s dismay. Tommy had seen him all morning, breaking into intermittent fits of coughing he’d attempt to mask beneath the racket of power tools. Tommy’s just about as good at hiding his concern, and Joel catches him looking in his direction in the thick of it on more than one occasion. After which Joel would rip his eyes from his brother’s fretful gaze, hoping to deter him from moving forward to give him a once-over.

Despite his many efforts otherwise, Tommy knows Joel’s sick - too sick to be working like he is today. It’s when the guys break for lunch around noon and Joel just quietly nurses a bottle of water (which he only has because Sarah made sure of it, no less), that Tommy decides he’s got all the evidence he needs. Tommy sidles up next to his brother who’s leaning against his truck bed, and by the looks of it, allowing it to hold most of his weight, too weary to do so himself. Tommy sighs next to him, and Joel braces for what’s coming.

“You know, we’ve pretty much got it covered over here today, not a lot left to do before we pour anyhow. Probably a good thing, bottom looks like it’s gonna fall out before long,” he says, gesturing to the darkening sky above them. “We can manage for the day if you wanna head on home, maybe take a nap? Hate to tell ya, but you look like hell.” Tommy nudges his brother’s shoulder with his own playfully, attempting to lighten the mood. Joel rolls his eyes at Tommy, sniffing and clearing his throat to talk.

“Nah. ‘S just a cold. I’ll be alright,” Joel says, hoping to end the discussion with his curt response, but failing when his throat catches on the last word. Tommy’s face is etched in worry at the sound of the cough tearing up his brother’s throat.

While Joel attempts to catch his breath, Tommy takes in the reddened flush on Joel’s otherwise pale face, and the distant glassiness in his eyes. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Tommy places the back of his hand against Joel’s forehead. He’s barely there long enough to get a read on his temp before Joel swats his hand away, but it’s enough. No wonder he’s caught Joel shivering more than once today.

“Dammit Joel, you know better. We’ve sent guys home for less and you know it,” says Tommy, face twisting in frustration and concern.

“Tommy it’s fine I-“ Joel attempts to reply, but Tommy cuts him off.

“Did you even bother to check it before ya left? You know this is a fuckin’ hazard on the job. Damn accident waitin’ to happen,” his tone is grave, but his expression is worried and achingly sincere. Joel pushes the thought from his mind and shapes up - not his little brother’s job, he can take care of himself.

“No. I’m fine to keep workin. That’s it. We got stuff to do,” Joel says with finality, turning on his heel and promptly returning to his tasks. Tommy’s not happy about it, but he could spend all day arguing with his bullheaded brother, tiring him out more without making any headway. No, he’ll just keep a closer eye on him while they work. That’ll have to do.

—--------------------

It’s when the rain starts coming down a little after two that Tommy hits his limit. Once he notices a couple drops beginning to fall, he looks to Joel, just in time to see his brother shivering when the drops make contact with his overheated skin. That’s enough of that. Tommy stalks over to his brother, whose reaction time is significantly slowed, and Joel turns to look at him a bit dazed.

“Alright, that’s it. Rain’s coming down, you’re shaking like a fuckin’ leaf. Go home.” It’s Tommy’s turn to remain steadfast in his convictions. Joel looks over at him with tired eyes and Tommy can’t help but soften.

Only when a few chilled drops hit Joel’s face and neck making him colder than he’s felt all day that he concedes. “Yeah, alright.” It’s clear he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight, especially when Tommy pats his shoulder comfortingly and he slumps a bit. Joel’s shivering again as Tommy ushers him back toward his truck.

“We’re heading out soon as we get cleaned up anyway. How ‘bout I pick up Sarah? Just go home and get some sleep?” Tommy asks, hopeful now that his brother’s folding.

“Okay,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face before trying in vain to rub out the pain behind his eyes. Joel stops just outside the driver’s side door and looks to Tommy to thank him.

“‘Course. Now head home. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Tommy responds, to which Joel nods, then climbs into the truck. Tommy takes another look back to find his brother sitting in the driver’s seat gathering himself, mildly satisfied with this result

_____________________________________________________________

For once you actually make your way to the parking lot right after school on a Friday. You're notorious for staying too late, grading, planning, or straight up yapping, but today you’d made a rookie mistake. You’d showed up to work on Day 2 of your period without checking your advil stash. Fuck.

After a day of cramping, crabbiness, and guilty apologies after being kind of a bitch to your students a couple of times, you head to your car as soon as the bell rings. You’ll stop in the Walgreens around the corner from your neighborhood for a quick supply run, then head home to be comfortably horizontal for the remainder of this fine Friday afternoon.

—--------------------

Truth be told, Joel is relieved to be done for the day by the time Tommy makes him leave. The last of his resolve had crumbled and fallen with the first raindrops and the chill they set in his bones. He turns the heat on in his truck and settles in, letting the air warm him up and willing the pounding in his head to subside just long enough to focus on the road. A few minutes and a bout of coughing later, he finally works up the strength to drive home, only to realize he’s still horrifically unmedicated. Shit. Guess he’s stopping at the drugstore on his way home if he wants even a little relief.

—--------------------

Joel’s standing in the cold and flu aisle of his neighborhood Walgreens, sniffling miserably and squinting heavy-lidded at different cold medicine boxes in each of his hands. He remembers one particular medicine helping at least a bit more than others last time he was sick, but for the life of him he can’t remember which one it was. Dammit, he really just wants to get out of here. He’d much rather keep this cold to himself than be hacking in public, but he needs something if he’s ever gonna stop coughing long enough to get the sleep he desperately needs.

The tiny white letters on the back of these orange and green boxes are starting to run together, and the pain behind his eyes digs its heels into his frontal lobe. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses a little louder than he realizes, triggering a coughing fit in the middle of the store. Great. Now everyone in the store knows he’s carrying a respiratory plague. He’s sniffling and feeling like a walking germ when he hears his name called.

“Joel?” you call from the end of the aisle, having heard his voice from a few lanes over. Joel turns his head to see - oh no. Jesus. Boy did he wish you weren’t the one seeing him look so gross right now. As you come closer to find him squinting under the clinical brightness of the drugstore, you get a good look at him. He looks… rough. His hair’s a bit damp, and more disheveled than usual - not the fresh, styled damp you see when he leaves the house after a shower, but a clammier mix of sweat and rain. His posture is far from the typical confidence and swagger he typically wields with each step, and is more evidently haggard. You notice his eyes first though, with dark circles and brows creased in confused exhaustion. They’re half-closed too, like he’s fighting to keep them open.

He tries to open them wider and stand up straighter as you approach, clearing his throat to speak, but he’s coughing again before he can get a word out. He’s shaking with the force of it and you notice his shirt is damp in places as well - must have gotten caught in the rain. Just minutes ago, he’d have been uncomfortable under your scrutiny, but he’s too wrapped up in catching his breath to be embarrassed at this point. You draw nearer with pure concern in your eyes as his coughing subsides, and his resolve melts a bit more.

“Whoa, hey, you okay over there? That sounded painful,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. He notices the fretful tone in your voice — it’s gentler than his brother’s but carries the same intention.

“Yeah, can’t say it feels great,” Joel says hoarsely before attempting to clear his throat once again, hoping his lungs will cooperate this time. “Can’t seem to remember which of these damn pills will give me a hand though.”

“Didn’t I just see you on Wednesday? When did you start feeling bad?” you ask, leaning against his side to take a closer look at one of the boxes from his hands. Maybe with some details you can help figure something out to get him feeling better, or at least let him rest.

“Last night, I guess. Came on pretty quick. Was workin’ okay this morning, but once the rain started, Tommy sent me packin’.”

“You went to work like this, Joel?! Isn’t that like, dangerous? You could really hurt yourself,” you chastise, rubbing his upper arm comfortingly while staring up at him looking utterly devastated. Christ he may melt into a puddle right here. He’s seen this look before, and though he doesn’t want you close enough to catch this, he doesn’t have the heart to shove you away like he did Tommy. He bothers to look at least a little guilty, and you sigh before continuing: “Bad idea. And you know it. Now, let’s figure this out. You’ve got the cough down for sure - what are your other symptoms?”

Before Joel can respond, he looks down into the small basket hanging over your arm and notices its contents: a box of pads, tampons, a bag of peanut M&Ms, a resealable bag of bite-sized chocolates, sour gummy worms, two different pain medications, and a box of peppermint tea. Pain relief, pads, and candy salad. Caught. This is not a conversation you want to have with Joel — men get weird about periods for some childish reason, and you’re really not in the mood. You glance down and move the basket behind you a bit, ready to brush him off and keep the conversation on him, but when you meet his eyes they’re wider and his brows are furrowed above you, drinking you in.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?,” he asks, gesturing to the contents of your little black basket. His tone mirrors the worry you’ve been bleeding since you turned onto the aisle. You’re taken aback by the question at all, given the obvious nature of today’s dilemma — one most men you know wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. His voice doesn’t waver, and his expression doesn’t falter, or express an ounce of discomfort. It’s interesting, but you’d rather not dwell on it, and laugh him off anyway.

“Oh, yeah. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before of course,” you smile and wave your hand in the air to brush off his concern, but his eyebrows inch closer to one another, and his head tilts slightly to the side. You’re the one growing warm under his perusal now, so you turn the subject back to him. “Anyway, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Joel stares a moment longer, but begins to rattle off a list of fairly standard cold symptoms. You’re glad it isn’t anything too serious, he’ll probably just feel crappy for a couple of days while his immune system does the heavy lifting. Now to figure out what can be done to make him more comfortable in the meantime. One thing you know for certain after hearing the growing congestion in his voice and the rasp in his throat — he’s gonna need the stronger stuff. You take the boxes from his hands and return them to the shelf. He looks at you perplexed, struggling to sniffle against the congestion that — according to the pained squinting he’s still doing beneath the fluorescent lights — is giving him a hell of a sinus headache, and keeping him from breathing through his nose. Fine as he may be in a few days, at the moment he looks devastatingly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, this crap on the shelf isn’t gonna work. Let’s get ya some of the stronger stuff,” you say, patting his shoulder before tugging him along to the pharmacy. He doesn’t ask any questions, just quietly follows your lead. Along the way, you explain the useless nature of the phenylephrine in the easy stuff, and how the good stuff requires you to show your ID. You tell him why the drugs with the pseudoephedrine are more helpful, and he nods and snuffles in understanding. Sounds good to him, he’ll let you take the lead on that one. As smart as he knows you are, he more than trusts your judgment.

You approach the counter and begin perusing the options, talking with the pharmacist about what you need, when Joel starts coughing again. You can’t help but rub his back and whisper soft words in comfort when his face twists in pain from the fit wreaking havoc in his chest. As your hand moves in soothing circles across his back, you can feel the heat of his skin through his t-shirt. Shit, he didn’t say anything about a fever. You need to get him home as soon as possible.

When he’s composed a bit, you wrap up with the pharmacist, and she asks for your ID. You pull yours from your bag and hand it to her, but pause. Should you show her your own? Does she need to see Joel’s too?

“Oh, for sure. Uhm, do you need to see his too, since he’s the patient?” you ask, wanting to get done with this as quickly and smoothly as possible so you can get him out of here. She’s looking at the card in her hand intently and entering your information into the computer, busy with the transaction.

“No ma’am. We don’t need your husband’s ID since you’re the one purchasing,” she responds, not lifting her eyes from the computer. You blush at this, but she doesn’t seem to notice until Joel’s eyes go wide and he chokes, forcing him into another bout of harsh coughing. Jesus, his throat must be torn up. You reach for him with one hand and place your own basket and a few other sick day supplies on the counter with the other before she finalizes the transaction.

“Thanks for all your help!,” you say a bit frantically as you begin to usher him toward the exit. You walk out of the store in silence, neither one of you looking at the other, each of you trying to keep a nervous smirk at bay. Only when the automatic doors shut behind you do you turn to look at each other and laugh heartily, extremely entertained by the pharmacist’s assumption. The laughter only ceases when it sends Joel coughing again — you need a read on that fever he’s sporting. Once he’s mostly caught his breath, you move closer and place a gentle hand on his forehead, then move it down toward his cheek. Joel closes his eyes and without realizing, leans forward into your soft touch. When your hand leaves his face, his eyes open to find that look again, and he muses that you may make him sweat before the fever gets the chance.

“You didn’t mention this earlier. Did you know you’re running a fever, Joel?” you ask him, and he looks guilty toward the asphalt.

“Tommy mighta mentioned somethin’ about it earlier, but I’ll be alright,” he responds, but fails to suppress a shiver when the breeze kicks up. Your heart breaks a little seeing him shaking — how did you miss that earlier? You sigh deeply before telling him you’re hesitant to let him drive home. He insists it’ll be fine, and you understand it’d be more of a hassle to come get his truck later on. You concede since it’s such a short trip back, but you’ll follow him back to your adjacent homes.

—--------------------

After parking your car in the driveway next to his own, you meet Joel at his truck. You bat his hand away when he attempts to grab the bags from yours, and tell him to go unlock the door. Ever the gentleman, he’s a little perturbed, but follows your instructions anyway. Once you’re both inside the house, you set the items on the table and sit him down next to it before heading for the cabinet and filling a glass with water. After passing him the glass and watching as he slowly sips, you unload the bags, and begin reading the back of the box from the pharmacy.

“Have you eaten anything today? It’s probably not a great idea to take this on an empty stomach,” you say. He goes a little green at the thought of eating anything before swallowing and huffing a response.

“No, haven’t really felt like it. Don’t think it’d sit well right now, to be honest. I’ll be alright with just the medicine, I bet.” You sigh in response, a little anxious it’ll make him feel worse, but either option could do that at this point. At least the thought of the medicine isn’t nauseating for him at the moment. You’ll let it slide, for now.

“Fine. But you’ll definitely need to eat something substantial later,” you tell him, giving him a once-over, taking advantage of the single instance he’s below you to get a good look at him. You’re already thinking through take-out options that might help tonight. Another day, you’d make some soup for him — get him full and warm him up. Hell, tomorrow you might. But today you’re exhausted, with the period fatigue and the cramps that won’t let up, you’re definitely ready to get into some more comfy Friday Afternoon Clothes.

“Alright, you get changed and get comfy on the couch. I’m just gonna run home and get outta these work clothes, then I’ll be right back.”

“You’ve done plenty already today, darlin’, really. Helped me out more than you know. And I’d hate for you to catch this too,” he explains, looking guiltier than you’d like. You’re plenty aware of the risk here but at the moment you couldn’t care less. You don’t really feel like sitting by yourself in your house right now anyway. No reason both of you should feel crappy alone.

“Uh, Joel, did you forget that we’re ‘married’ now? I’ll be back in just a minute to check on you,” you insist, smiling at him. He looks at you admonishingly and smiles back, shaking his head. You have no idea how happy that makes him — his stomach flutters at the joke, and it isn’t from his illness. You hesitate on the way out the door, and turn to check with him once again. “If having me hovering is gonna keep you up though, I can totally leave you be. I don’t want to keep you from getting the rest you need.” Your voice and expression are apprehensive, afraid to be a bother.

He probably doesn’t still his face well enough, and he’s certain you can see desperation in his eyes when he shakes his head. He can’t tell you quite yet, but he’s over the moon you want to stick around. All semblance of nobility is dropped - having you near him could never be unwelcome. “You don’t hover, sweetheart. Nothing about you is bothersome. I’d love the company, actually,” he tells you in earnest.

Your expression settles at the reassurance, and you smile back at him. “Good. I’ll just be a few minutes,” you begin, but your smile turns to a grimace with the last few words as you feel a sharp twisting in your stomach and lower back. Your hand instinctively grips your stomach, hoping to ease the pain. There’s definitely no escaping that one. Joel’s eyes widen, but you cut him off before he can ask if you’re okay. “Yep, I'm gonna get out of these pants and into something loose before my uterus tries to kill me,” you joke, reaching for the knob.

Joel chuckles in response but he’s frowning a bit. The look from the drugstore is back, and you don’t know what to do with his sympathy. You can’t look long before heading out.

He hates seeing the pain you’re in, but what upsets him most is the way you brush it off. Like your pain is smaller, or insignificant by comparison — one he wouldn’t draw anyway. It sticks with him more than it probably should, but he can’t seem to shake it. He needs to act, somehow. Once he’s changed, he grabs a few blankets from the closet and the heating pad they keep around for his back and for Sarah’s own cycles. He knows how much it can help her, so he figures it couldn’t hurt to offer, at least.

He sets up a spot on the couch for you both — a little nest for staring at the tv and, (he hopes), cozying up just a bit for extra comfort. He’s still not hungry, but he microwaves a bag of popcorn and grabs some other assorted salty snacks to join the candy you’d picked up. He’s seen how snacky you can get after school sometimes, and wants to make sure you have an array of options, prepped for any craving.

You return as he’s placing the last of these items down on the coffee table — he’s rather proud of his little presentation — and sees your hair up and a comfy set of sweats that are just a little too long in the arms and legs. Lord help him, you look fucking adorable. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face when you walk toward him.

“Well don’t you look cozy,” he says with eyes shining at your improved expression. You give him an exaggerated little twirl to show off the baggy outfit you’ve adorned yourself in for this evening’s activities.

“Damn right! I’m ready for anything now,” you say, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. He’s laughing in response before it catches in his throat again and he starts coughing.

“That makes one of us,” he jokes once he’s caught his breath.

“Yep, I want you on the couch. Right now. Go ahead and get comfy and I’ll get the medicine. We gotta get you drugged up enough if you’re gonna get any sleep.” You’re ushering him to the couch when you stop in your tracks. When you catch sight of the coffee table snacks and the heating pad set up on one side of the couch, already plugged in and waiting, you nearly tear up. You’re speechless for a moment — no one’s ever done anything like this for you before. This little thoughtful gesture means the world, and you’re not sure what to say.

“Joel! You didn’t need to do all this. You’re sick, I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you insist, nudging his arm with your own, leaning lightly into his side.

“Wasn’t hardly anything, darlin’, just some stuff I know helps Sarah when she gets to feelin’ like you do. She likes her snacks salty, and always feels better with this little fire hazard next to ‘er,” he says, gesturing to the heating pad on the couch. His grin turns mischievous before he starts again: “Besides, you said it yourself, we’re ‘married’ now, huh? I oughta know what my wife needs just as well,” he finishes, voice too satisfied, and eyebrows raised in jest.

You’re giggling when you grab his hand and squeeze it, thanking him. “This goofy little bit we’re doin’ ends the second Sarah and your brother walk through the door, by the way. Not looking to scare her, that’s the last thing I wanna do,” you instruct.

“‘Course, but fuckin’ with Tommy sure woulda been fun,” he says to you, and you laugh in agreement. Once you see he’s settled, you make tea for the both of you, hoping it’ll work magic with the medicine to get him resting comfortably and — with any luck — napping before long. He’ll probably protest, but with a little coaxing, you’ll get it into him.

When you return with the tea, he takes it from you with both hands, before using one to pull you down on the couch next to him. He’s pulled you a little closer than you may have sat yourself, and he’s pleased when you don’t pull away or readjust. You just grab the heating pad, crank it up, and stick it behind your lower back while leaning forward to grab the medicine. You check his temperature again with the back of your hand while he’s preoccupied taking the medicine you’d doled out to him. He’s a little warmer than he was outside the drug store.

“Maybe we should get a number on that. Where do you keep your thermometer?” you ask, worry written on your face all over again. You attempt to rise from the couch to go hunting, but he grips your hand again, keeping you in place.

“Nope, nope, it’s fine sweetheart, I promise. You need to get some rest too. Sit,” he directs, his tone leaving no room for discussion. You roll your eyes, but wriggle back against the couch again before pulling a blanket into your lap. Joel fiddles with the cord of the heating pad and readjusts it behind your back, making sure it isn’t folded or sitting uncomfortably against you. You sigh in relief and fall a bit toward him as you settle in, and he inches you way as well. You arbitrarily turn on a movie you’ve both seen, fully aware neither of you will be making it to the end, and snuggle closer. The fevered heat humming beneath his skin is pleasantly warm against you as he settles deeper, and he’s slipping in and out of conversation within minutes.

_____________________________________________________________

Sarah walks through the door with Tommy in tow while end credits roll across the tv. They head into the den to check on Joel, but conversation falls silent and they stop in their tracks at the sight they discover. You’re sleeping peacefully, legs tucked up under you and head lolled against the back of the couch. Joel’s head has somehow found its way into your lap, and he’s resting warmly on your stomach, no doubt alleviating some of the pain with his warmth and weight. Your hand rests on his shoulder, holding him securely.

Tommy’s face goes slack, but Sarah’s smiling ear to ear, and turns to her uncle, trying to quiet her laughter. He looks at her wide-eyed, but says nothing, and she holds her hand out between them, fingers curling toward her palm.

“Pay up,” she says, way too satisfied for Tommy’s liking, and far too much like her father. He rolls his eyes, and digs his wallet out of his pocket. He really thought his brother would be too chicken to do anything about this — at least for a little while longer.

487 notes · View notes

d1xonss · 5 months ago

Text

Fuck it, I love you

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 11

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+) / Angst

✧ Word Count : 7.8k

AN ~ This request was sent in by @daryladdixon, thank you again for the idea! I’m so sorry it took me so long to write, I’ve been having a lot of things going on in my personal life. But it’s finally finished! I really tried my best with this one and I hope you like how it ended up turning out!

(ps- I really want to make some new friends on here, so please dm me if you want to chat! xoxox)

You had been through a lot together. Ever since Atlanta. It was a long time if you really thought about it; years and years of having all kinds of different shit thrown at you. But surprisingly, the two of you made it side by side, the trauma you both endured only bringing you closer together.

Though now as you stood there, screaming and arguing back and forth with each other as a few of your people were in danger, you couldn’t help but wonder how the hell you got here.

When the Commonwealth appeared seemingly out of nowhere with open arms for new people, you couldn’t help but be weary of it. You never trusted them, not really. It was like a dream, something that was too good to be true as they seemed to offer quite a lot, but that only made you more cautious. And the events that followed only proved how right your instincts truly were. So, when the time came, you quickly jumped back on the opportunity to leave and go back to live in Alexandria, knowing that place would always truly be your home. You didn’t even have to think twice on the decision.

However, when you heard that Daryl would be staying behind, wanting to continuously be a part of Judith and RJ’s lives, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. You understood his need to be there for them, you would always understand that. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t miss him greatly when you finally pushed forward to move back with Aaron and Gabriel.

Although something that you didn’t expect, was Daryl’s slight resentment toward you.

When you told him the news about how you’d be leaving the Commonwealth, he was surprisingly taken aback and a little hurt. He even began to raise his voice at one point, not meaning to yell, but to try and show you how devastated he was that you wouldn’t be around. It wasn’t often that the communities visited each other anymore, not like they used to anyway. And that alone told him that he would hardly ever see you anymore.

He hated it, but his reaction to your leave drove a small wedge between the two of you. He was upset that you were leaving him, and you were upset about how he reacted, knowing that he of all people should have understood your reasoning the most. But that was the last time the two of you had spoken, the last time the two of you had even caught a glimpse of the other. And it truly had taken a toll on the both of you. Though you two were far too stubborn to admit it, the truth was you missed each other greatly.

Daryl felt almost empty without having you around. He would spend his free time with the kids, see Carol here and there, along with meeting with some of the other acquaintances he had grown closer to. But he dreaded coming home every day, knowing he would be stepping into an empty and oddly quiet house. It just wasn’t the same without you there. He even caught himself a few times glancing over toward the living room, expecting to see you curled up on the couch with your nose in a book. But there was nothing. Hell, even Dog missed you, tugging on Daryl’s heartstrings a bit as he noticed the canine always looking around the space like he was waiting for you to come home.

And back at Alexandria, you were no better than him. Though you had a lot of things to occupy yourself with, you were going through the same heartbreak he was as the two of you hadn’t been apart for this long in years. A part of you assumed that this would be the new normal. That the two of you now had your separate lives and you would just move on from each other, even though it was far from an easy thing to do. You could now grow as individuals and learn to not depend on one another as it seemed neither or you were ready to have the awkward discussion on how things were left. You could move on.

That is until you received quite the urgent message.

You were in the kitchen of your small home when you heard someone just burst through the front door, causing you to freeze at the sudden noise. “(Y/N)?!” you could hear Aaron’s frantic voice call out.

Immediately you sprung forward towards the front entrance of your home, looking at him with concerned eyes, “What? What’s going on?”

“It’s Lydia and Elijah.” he breathed, “Apparently they didn’t make it to Hilltop. It’s been way too long, they should’ve been there by now.”

Your stomach dropped as you processed the news, “How long have they been gone?”

“They left two days ago.”

That only caused your concern to grow, knowing in the back of your mind that there was no way they could’ve gotten lost or side tracked. Something was wrong, and all you were able to think about was how you would be able to find them. You remembered they took a car, picturing what it looked like in your head as you racked your brain for which route they could’ve taken to the community. The fact was however, you couldn’t track to save your life. Even from the small bits and pieces you had learned in the past, you knew it wouldn’t be enough to find them on your own.

But that’s when it hit you. The small things you had picked up on, you learned from only the best tracker in the world. And in the back of your mind, you knew there was no way to do this without his help.

Soon you found yourself racing towards the Commonwealth without a second thought, telling Aaron to cover for you at the infirmary whilst you were gone. The man asked you multiple times if you were sure, if you really wanted to be a part of this knowing how much they relied on you back at home. But you didn’t have to think twice, you didn’t want Daryl to have to take this responsibility on his own. Though you knew he would do it in a heartbeat for his people, it didn’t matter to you. They were your people too.

You made it into the Commonwealth in record time, the guards on watch allowing you inside the second they recognized who you were, watching your vehicle speed down the road as you left a cloud of dust behind. The area was quite busy today as everyone seemed to be out and about and enjoying the nice weather, feeling a slight shiver run through you as you suddenly remembered why you hated this place. Too many bad memories to even count as living here felt like the longest few weeks of your life.

The car made a screeching sound as you brought it to an abrupt halt, causing quite a few heads to turn upon your graceful entrance as you pulled the keys out of the ignition, stepping out of the car to find him. Though you froze about halfway out of the vehicle as finding him was apparently a lot easier than you thought it would be, seeing him standing off with Carol as the two of you locked eyes immediately. He wanted to say he was happy to see you, happy that you were still alive and healthy, having not seen you in what felt like forever. But the look on your face said it all.

The man didn’t hesitate as he grabbed his crossbow and strapped it across his shoulders, not even bidding Carol a goodbye as he jogged over to you, squeezing past a few people in his way. You instantly tensed a bit, almost as if to prepare yourself for what was to come as you watched him get closer and closer, not even knowing what to say to him. All that time you spent in the car you thought over the different things you wanted to say, the things you wanted him to know. But now as he was coming up to stand in front of you, your mind ran completely blank as you just stood there like an idiot.

He took you in for a moment as he slowed to a stop, trying to read your expression as he could clearly see you wanted to say something. But when all he received was silence, he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, embracing you tightly as he instantly sighed upon feeling your touch again. Your eyes widened at his actions, clearly not expecting that after how things were left between the two of you. But that didn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around him in return, your eyes falling shut as you buried your head into his chest. It was an old habit you had done many times in the past, but you heard Daryl’s breath hitch as he felt your small but familiar action. One that he had never forgotten.

“You okay?” he asked softly into your hair, squeezing you a bit tighter.

You let out a soft breath as you shook your head, “I need you.” you whispered.

After that, he was all ears.

You filled him in on everything as he was the one to take the wheel, driving just as fast as you once were in an attempt to track down the car Lydia had previously taken out. He silently listened the whole time, nodding to show he was still paying attention as he rubbed a hand over his chin, processing your words. The two of you were very clearly trying not to panic, but when it came to the people you both cared about, it was harder to stay calm than you would think.

But then there was just silence. An awkward silence. Neither of you uttering a word after you told him everything he needed to know. You slightly fidgeted with your hands that sat in your lap as you tried not to look at him, your mind only seeming to focus on how weird things were between the two of you now. That, and you kept thinking back to the very last pleasant conversation you had with him right before you stormed out with a slam of the door. A part of you regretted flipping out on him like that, mostly because you knew the reason why he snapped at you in the first place. It was because he didn’t want you to leave, and all you could do in response to that, was to yell right back out of sadness.

But what you weren’t aware of was that he was thinking the exact same thing. Great minds think alike after all. There was no doubt in his mind that he regretted everything he said to you that day, not knowing that it would tear this big of a hole in your relationship. Though he did have a reason as to why he acted so poorly, and that was simply because the man was incredibly in love with you. And it frustrated him that you couldn’t see that, but it frustrated him even more that you left him like it was nothing.

You then cleared your throat to speak much to his surprise, “So…how’ve you been?”

He briefly glanced over at you, shrugging his shoulders with a huff, “Same old, same old.” he brushed off, a beat of silence passing before he bounced the question right back to you. “How’re you?”

“Good…” you nodded, “I’ve been good.”

His eyes glanced back over at you again, taking in your appearance, “Ya seem happy.”

A small smile made its way onto your lips, “I am happy.” you confirmed.

Though it was partially a lie. Sure, you were happy back at Alexandria, living in the familiar home that you had fallen in love with, spending your time at the infirmary helping people. But there was always something missing, and that something was him. You found you were never fully happy when he wasn’t around, no matter how great your life could’ve gotten.

“Ya still changin bed pans?” he asked, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

You rolled your eyes with a small scoff, “Yeah, I guess I am. You still babysitting?”

He chuckled softly with a nod, glancing over at you again as if he couldn’t stop looking at your face, “Guess I am…” he confirmed.

You hummed, “How are the little gremlins anyway?”

“They’re doin alright.” he nodded, “Judith’s made a couple new friends since Gracie moved back, and uh…RJ’s startin to wear that old busted hat now…passin the torch I suppose.” he paused for a moment, “...They ask bout ya a lot.” he added quietly.

You smiled a little at that, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” he nodded, “It’s hard for them to shut up bout ya. They’re always sayin shit like…bout the movie nights we used to have. Or how uh…you would do Jude’s makeup every once and a while. Believe me, I haven’t been a good replacement.”

A small laugh escaped you once he said that, not even wanting to imagine Daryl’s makeup skills as he didn’t have much of a steady hand as you did. “Didn’t work out too well?”

He shook his head, “Nah. M’ better at paintin her nails then paintin her whole damn face.”

You hummed as your eyes moved to glance at his hands, noticing the black chipped nail polish that still lingered on his fingers, “I can see she talked you into getting yours done.”

The man followed your line of sight, turning a bit red in embarrassment as he grumbled to himself, “Yeah…it’s hard to say no to her sometimes.”

“She just knows you're a big softie…you’d give a lot to make her happy.” you said with a small smirk.

He scoffed as he briefly glanced over at your face, “Whatever.” he mumbled.

You laughed softly to yourself before it went quiet again, only this time it was a lot more comfortable than before. With some of the tension out of the way, you felt like you could finally breathe properly, seeing as he was the exact same way you left him. It was almost as if no time had passed.

Though you couldn’t help the ping of sadness you felt as you thought over what he had told you, the kids missing your presence would never fail to break your heart. His words only brought the memories flooding back, thinking about how you once would nearly spend every waking moment together, like an actual family, and you loved every second of it. You now only wished everything hadn’t gotten so messed up, not knowing if things would be the same since your absence. If you were given the chance to redo that moment in time, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Daryl then glanced back over at you, seeing your mind wandering, his face forming into a bit of sympathy as he could only assume what you were thinking. He was never good with words, but a part of him wanted to reassure you somehow.

“I missed ya.” he mumbled quietly.

Your heart leapt a little in your chest as you heard his quiet words, looking back over at him to find that his gaze was already on you. You smiled sadly, reaching over to give his arm a squeeze. “I missed you too.”

He smiled back at you, fighting back a shiver as you reached out to place a gentle hand on his arm. It was a moment the both of you needed. And perhaps you weren’t the only one who needed the reassurance, seeing as he was visibly relaxing after your reciprocated words.

But it couldn’t last forever, no matter how much you wanted it to. The two of you sitting up a little straighter upon seeing the familiar car veered off to the side of the road, the front tires planted on the grass as if they had somehow crashed, yet there was no damage from what you could see.

Daryl immediately pulled off to the side, the car slowing to a stop before the two of you got out with your weapons in your grasp, approaching the vehicle with caution to peer through the slightly darkened windows. Though upon glancing inside, there was nothing. No bags, no weapons, nothing. Confusion with a mix of dread seemed to pool in your stomach as it was hard to tell how they disappeared, though you prayed you were wrong about what you originally assumed.

“Aye.” Daryl’s voice called out.

You glanced up at him from over the hood of the car, seeing him gesturing down to the ground in front of him for you to come and see. From your perspective, all you saw were a bunch of messed up and sloppy footprints that could’ve been there for days if you had to guess. But Daryl saw something much bigger. Though he didn’t want to scare you, he silently knew that there were a few strangers involved with their sudden disappearance, knowing he had to be careful on your next move.

“Our best bets that way.” he muttered as he nodded toward the treeline, not even waiting for you to respond before he started moving in that direction.

You tried to keep up with his long strides as he moved quickly through the woods, his eyes staying to the ground as he tried to pinpoint every direction they turned. It was honestly amazing to you how he could do this without hesitating or second guessing himself, he just knew where he was going as if he was following some kind of string that led straight to them. But in a way he was as you began to notice a pattern in the leaves and dirt.

Although you couldn’t help but notice that the closer the two of you got, the more rigid and tense he became as he stopped speaking to you entirely. He didn’t make a single sound as he walked, only occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were still following right behind him. The feeling in your stomach began to worsen as you quickly picked up on how much his body language seemed to change, as if he were screaming at you without saying a single word. You knew there was something he knew and you didn’t, but you couldn’t bring yourself to understand why he wasn’t telling you. You were in this together after all.

However, your silent thoughts were suddenly brought to a halt as you were too busy looking down at the ground to realize that Daryl had stopped, instantly running into his back with a small oof. But he hardly seemed to notice as his sole focus was on the small cabin in the distance that seemed to be completely abandoned. Though both of you knew better than to believe that.

“You stay right here.” Daryl’s voice commanded softly, removing his crossbow from his shoulders as he loaded a bolt into it.

Your eyes slightly widened at his suggestion, “I’m sorry?” you spoke in disbelief.

“Ya heard me, I said stay here.” he replied a little more harshly, “We dunno what’s waitin for us in there, alright? I’ll get em out.”

“I’m not just going to stand here while you throw yourself into the lion’s den, fuck that.” you replied with a scoff as you pulled out a weapon of your own.

He grumbled in slight annoyance, “Dammit (Y/N), ya ain’t comin with.”

“Like hell I’m not.” you quietly snapped, “We came out here together to find them, and now we’re going in there together to get them out.”

The man then got up into your face, as if trying to intimidate you enough so you’d stay behind like he asked, “M’ not messin around girl, I ain’t takin no for an answer.”

“Yeah, neither am I, jackass. You’re not going in there by yourself, that’s just stupid.”

His face contorted into obvious frustration and anger as he was clearly losing his patience, “Why the hell do ya have to be so goddamn stubborn all the time, huh? Why can’t you just listen for once?”

You huffed to yourself at the irony, “Well, I guess you can say I learned from the best.”

“Shut the hell up.” he snarled.

“I wanna know why,” you retorted, “Why won’t you let me go in there with you and back you up on this? You really think I can’t handle myself?”

He growled, “I never fuckin said that.”

“Then why?” you snapped, equally losing your patience just as much as he was. At this rate, whoever was in that cabin could probably hear the two of you arguing with one another with how loud your voices seemed to rise.

“Because.” he huffed.

“Why?!”

“Because I love ya too damn much ta lose ya in there! I just want ya safe!”

In an instant, the world went silent. The two of you were breathing a bit heavier from all the yelling, looking at each other with equally wide eyes. You were shocked that he said something so vulnerable, while he on the other hand was terrified that now he might’ve ruined what he had with you. It wasn’t an easy thing for him to come to terms with his feelings, but admitting them out loud felt like an entirely different ballpark. The man now just stood frozen, trying to anticipate your reaction as if he was expecting something negative.

But you surprised him.

“And I love you too damn much to let you do this by yourself.” you said, your voice now unexpectedly soft, “We’ve had each other’s backs for years…and this isn’t any different.”

Daryl stared at you with slightly wide eyes after you said that, not only because you refused to listen to him again, but because you said you loved him too. You loved him. He never in his wildest dreams ever thought it would be physically possible for you to love someone like him, but here you were, pouring your heart out just as he was. Neither of you had been very good about expressing how you felt for one another; there was never really a need for words as you both silently already knew. But now as everything was laid out on display, it was a new kind of uncomfortable that you both just wanted to crawl away from.

Though in the midst of all the tension, Daryl finally allowed you to come with him towards the cabin with a nod of his head, both of you preparing yourself for the sight you would see. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as you were expecting.

Both Lydia and Elijah were tied up on opposite ends of the small house, all of their supplies and weapons completely missing as they were left with nothing. Both of you were quick to untie them, taking them by the arms as they began to tell you that they were held at gunpoint by a few bandits, demanding that they give up all their things to them. And to make sure they wouldn’t follow, the bandits had apparently tied and locked them up inside for God only knows how long. You felt awful as you saw the minor injuries on them from the experience, but mostly you were just thankful that they were alive.

You spent the car ride back to Alexandria in the backseat of the vehicle, comforting Lydia as she leaned against you, telling you bit by bit of what she could remember. It was surely traumatizing for the both of them, and you wanted her to know that you were there to listen to whatever she needed to get off her chest. Even Elijah chimed in a one point once he was comfortable enough, needing to talk about the scary experience just as much as she did. But as for you and Daryl, neither of you uttered a word, not forgetting about the small moment you had just seconds before you found them.

The sun was beginning to set by the time the four of you made it back to the community, many people waiting in anticipation at the gates. But they were soon all filled with great relief as soon as they saw the two young adults step out of the car, receiving hugs and reassuring words the moment they realized you had brought them back safely. Though you were quick to usher the two of them back towards the infirmary when you got the chance, wanting to make sure the minor cuts and bruises would heal properly as you offered to clean them up before they went home for some much needed rest.

Occasionally you glanced out the window to see Daryl and Aaron still talking near the front gate, part of you wondering if he would just go home. Leave without uttering a word about the argument that happened between the two of you. Daryl tended to run from these kinds of things, you knew that better than anyone, but you couldn’t lie to yourself and say you wouldn’t be a little heartbroken if he did this time. You didn’t want him to go, not knowing the next time you would even see him. But another part of you didn’t even know what to say if he did decide to see you one last time.

Eventually once you were finished up you cleaned up the station you used, wishing Lydia and Elijah goodnight as you hugged both of them tightly. All was quiet in Alexandria as there were only a few stragglers left outside, the sun now finally nowhere to be found as you slowly made your way home. Though without even realizing, you subtly kept an eye out for Daryl. He could’ve asked to spend the night in one of the spare homes since it had gotten late, assuming he would want to leave in the morning. But then again maybe he just wanted to get out of here, go home to his own bed with Dog who was surely missing him by now.

But he didn’t even say goodbye.

Your chest felt a bit heavier at the thought, mindlessly walking into your darkened house as your mind continued to spiral at the events of today. Although you stopped completely in your tracks when you noticed the light illuminating your living room, swearing you hadn't forgotten to turn it off just earlier today. Hesitantly, you peered around the corner to see none other than Daryl sitting on the couch, seemingly lost in his own little world as he stared down at his hands. Though he sensed your presence almost immediately, his head snapping up as he quickly stood to his feet, feeling a bit awkward now realizing that he had just come into your house without your permission.

He then cleared his throat, “I uh…I didn’t wanna leave without sayin goodbye.”

You didn’t know why, but something seemed to snap inside you once he said that. Knowing that he was just going to run right back to the Commonwealth without a second thought. “Really? You’re going to rush back there tonight? Just like that?”

He gave you a look, “Don’t…don’t do that.”

You scoffed with a shake of your head, “Don’t do what? I’m just calling it like it is. I don’t see you for months, and this is how you want to leave things between us? With some pathetic goodbye, not knowing the next time we’ll see each other again?”

“Hey, you got no right sayin that shit to me.” he said with a slight raise of his voice, “Yer the one who left, remember? Not me.”

You laughed bitterly, “You can’t blame me for that. I was miserable there, and I know you were too! And yet you’re still living there day after day-”

“M’ stayin there because of those kids!” he cut you off, “You know damn well how important they are to me, so yeah, I’ll be miserable if it means I can still be there for em. I ain’t gonna just leave em there.”

“I’m not asking you to leave them Daryl! I know how important they are to you, you practically raised them. But that doesn’t mean you get to just shut me out of your life completely. You give me this whole sob story in the car about how much they miss me, and you miss me, but if I recall, I haven’t seen you put in an effort to visit me once!”

“Oh you gotta lot of damn nerve sayin that to me.” he spoke with an edge to his tone, both of you getting more worked up with each comment you spat at each other. “You only came back because you needed my help, like m’ yer fuckin errand boy or some shit!”

You let out a sound of disbelief as you point towards him, “Don’t you dare go there! You’re no better than I am, and you know it. You would’ve never stepped foot back here unless there was some kind of emergency.” you spat, “You never made an effort, not even once! And after everything you said to me…”

A certain fire ignited behind his eyes once you said that, “How the hell else you expect me to react when yer tellin me yer leavin, huh?! What am I supposed to do with that?!”

“Be supportive!” you yelled, “Be happy that I’m finally going back to doing what I love! That’s what you do!”

“Why’re we fighting again?!” he suddenly questioned in frustration.

“I don’t know!”

It had been nothing but back and forth between you two since the moment you saw each other, battling with your own overpowering feelings. It was weird to think about how you never used to be like this, you never so much as argued playfully in the past, and yet now here you are at each other's throats. The silence had never been so loud in the small dimly lit house, waiting for someone to make some kind of move.

But then suddenly, Daryl seemed to make up his mind as he stepped forward. He didn’t want things to end with you like this, the last thing he wanted was to see you upset. And the urge to just finally allow his feelings to unleash was getting more and more overwhelming, needing you to know how he really felt.

He approached you in record speed, not even giving you any time to react before he gently cupped your face, capturing your lips with his. Your eyes widened at how fast everything seemed to happen, quickly pushing his shoulders to get him off of you. He instantly backed away when he sensed your discomfort, now looking like a deer in headlights as he came to the realization that he made a huge mistake.

“I…m’ sorry, I didn’t-”

“No,” you cut him off, “I don’t want you to kiss me, just to make all of this magically go away. I want you to kiss me, because…because it actually means something to you.” you breathed.

His eyes softened as it clicked in his mind what you were trying to say. You didn’t push him away because you didn’t want it to happen; you pushed him away because you were scared it was completely meaningless to him. But that wasn’t true. It wasn’t true at all.

Daryl slowly stepped closer to you again, hesitating slightly before pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead, “It means everythin…” he whispered against your skin.

That was a fantastic answer.

The moment you heard his confirmation, you leaned up to kiss him passionately, your arms looping around his neck as you pulled him into you. He took a moment to recover from your movements, but soon he found he was kissing you back with just as much eagerness, gripping your hips tightly. His mind went hazy as he was on cloud nine, almost not believing this was really happening. He had pictured this moment in his mind a hundred times before, but truly nothing could have prepared him for the utter bliss he was about to experience.

The two of you quickly grew more desperate for each other as the gentle kiss turned into something much greater, your tongues now fighting for dominance as you let out soft sounds of approval and desperation. Without even thinking, the two of you inched closer toward your bedroom on the main level, already clawing desperately at the fabric of your clothes.

Your knees eventually hit the back of the bed, causing you to stumble a little as you fell back onto the mattress, pulling him on top of you as you didn’t want your lips to part for even a second. Daryl could already feel the fire building in his stomach, the strong urge spreading throughout his body as he began to crave you. His hands moved everywhere he could reach, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of your body, every dip and curve was some kind of uncharted territory.

You then felt him pull back slightly to break the heated kiss, needing to taste more of you as he left hot, open mouthed kisses across your jawline, making his way down at an incredibly slow pace. A whimper was pulled from your lips as his teeth grazed your skin, gently nipping at your flesh to leave a trail of love bites to your exposed neck. The stubble on his face that scratched against your skin somehow made it even better, tickling you slightly as it sent a shiver up your spine.

Daryl smirked to himself as he felt your muscles twitch, moving his mouth to drag his tongue along your chest, before he lowered his head even more to slightly lift your shirt, kissing along your stomach. Your hands grasped the hem of your shirt as soon as he pulled it up, easily tugging it up and over your head to toss it carelessly somewhere on the floor. He groaned as his eyes scanned over your new exposed skin, feeling you sit up slightly to unhook the back of your bra, before shrugging it off just as fast.

His lips parted, his eyes hazy and filled with lust as his hands came up to brush across the sides of your breasts, “God, you drive me crazy…” he muttered under his breath.

You couldn’t help but smile up at him, leaning in to kiss him again as his hand moved to gently massage your breasts, squeezing them with the perfect amount of pressure. You gasped softly as he rolled your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, easily getting a rise out of you as your back slightly arched in response. He could feel your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him, your impatience growing as you could feel your arousal pooling against the fabric of your underwear. Your hands then moved up to blindly undo the buttons on his shirt, your nimble fingers struggling a bit as you tried to keep up with his sloppy kiss.

He then grunted at your attempts, breaking away from you momentarily to rip his shirt off his chest. Quite literally. Your eyes widened as the buttons flew everywhere, the navy blue top now looking more like a piece of a fabric sample than an actual shirt.

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly as your hands reached out to feel his toned chest, “Hm…I wish you had another shirt just so I could watch you do that again.”

He smirked, “Don’t worry...I got plenty of other ways to put on a show for ya.” he spoke before he gave you a wink, his hands reaching down to tug on your jeans.

Your excitement grew as you sat up on your elbows, watching as he swiftly undid the button and the zipper of your pants before pulling them clean off your legs in one swift motion. He seemed to be very efficient, that's for damn sure. Though a wicked grin crossed the man’s face when he saw the small wet patch on your thong, his thumb teasingly running over your clothed core. You sucked in a soft breath as he gently pushed on your clit, your head rolling back and your toes curling at the shockwave sensation.

“This all for me? Hm?” he practically purred, his southern drawl bringing goosebumps to your skin as his thumb continued to tease you.

Your hands gripped the sheets beside you as you nodded your head with a small “mhm”, silently begging him to keep going.

He seemed quite pleased as his lip quirked up in a smile, “Mm that’s my girl.” he muttered softly as he placed a few lingering kisses on your stomach, his words causing you to spiral. You never thought he would say that to you, hell you never even thought you wanted him to say that to you. But now that he had, you never wanted him to stop.

His mouth then hovered over the elastic of your underwear, his teeth moving down to bite at it before he tugged the piece of fabric off of you using only his mouth. Well if you weren’t turned on before, you sure as hell were now.

Daryl then couldn’t wait any longer as the sight of you bare beneath him was beginning to be too much, his movements frantic as his belt jingled when he began to unbuckle it. Your eyes watched his every move as he tugged his pants and boxers off in record speed, kicking them off of his ankles to see he was already throbbing for you. The sight was enough to make you whine quietly, squirming in anticipation as his large frame hovered over you.

But although he was practically drooling to finally please you the way you deserved, he still couldn’t help but tease you a bit. And maybe, just maybe, he enjoyed torturing himself a bit as well. He dragged his tip through your soaking wet folds, the friction being enough for your hips to rock up in a sudden jolt. The sounds coming out of you were utterly sinful, and he loved it. Your hands again gripped the sheets below you, fidgeting relentlessly as he continued to tease your entrance, occasionally circling your clit which caused you to moan.

“Ah!” you cried softly as he barely pushed inside you, before pulling himself out just as quickly, “Please...” you whispered breathlessly.

He groaned lowly as he saw you practically falling apart for him already, leaning down to place a few kisses along your cheek, “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“You.” you said instantly, “I want you…”

He smirked to himself, “I want you too sweetheart.” he kissed along your neck as he muttered those few words into your skin, “So much…”

The excruciating wait was finally gone in what seemed like a split second, not being able to hold back any longer as Daryl finally pushed himself into you. Your mouth dropped as your head fell back onto the bed, hearing him let out an exaggerated groan as he felt your tight walls already clenching around him.

“God…you feel like heaven sweet girl.” he mumbled as he fought to catch his breath, his mind swirling with ecstasy as he was completely drunk off of you. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, how you felt so perfect as if you were made for him.

Your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, squeezing your legs around his waist, “Keep going...” you practically begged, physically needing him to move.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He slowly began to pound into you at a steady pace, watching your facial expressions to try and find what felt the best for you. You moaned sensually as his hips began to slap against yours, feeling the length of him moving in and out at a steady pace. Your hands then moved to trace up his bare arms, feeling his muscles flex underneath your featherlight touch as they landed on his shoulders, needing to feel more of him.

His breaths grew heavier as they came out in short pants, gradually speeding up, completely enamored with how your breasts bounced with each thrust he gave. Your hands began gripping his shoulders a bit tighter as your eyes squeezed shut, whimpering as you could already feel your orgasm begin to pool in your belly. How he was able to do that with little to no actions at all, you had no idea. But you didn’t care. It was like all the longing the two of you had felt for each other was just spilling out all at one time as you finally gave into your desires.

“Faster.” you panted, “Please.”

Your words spurred him on as he instantly began to pound harsher into you, the bed frame squeaking against the wall as his movements were quick and sharp. The pornographic sounds easily slipped from your lips as you felt him rock even deeper inside of you, causing your nails to scratch and grip against his skin. He groaned deeply as he felt your hands digging into him, only urging him on more as he rolled his hips whilst thrusting into you, a sharp gasp escaping you as he tickled that sweet spot so perfectly.

He liked that sound. He liked it a lot; rolling his hips against yours again and again in order to pull more of those beautiful sounds out of you.

You cried out blissfully as you felt yourself clench against him, the familiar tingling sensation vibrating through you as your legs squeezed around his waist to keep him locked in place. He felt a bead of sweat pool down his face as he groaned, leaning down to gently nip at your collarbone, hearing your moans of pleasure right next to his ear. He could tell you were getting close, feeling himself following right along with you, but a part of him wanted to be at your mercy. A part of him wanted to see you riding out your high on top of him, needing to snap a mental image of the most perfect thing he could ever lay his eyes on.

You were taken off guard as he suddenly slowed his movements, flipping you over so you were straddling his hips as he laid flat on his back. Your dazed and confused look made him want to chuckle, but he didn't. Instead, he spoke.

“Use me however you want…” he panted as he continued to gently thrust himself into you, “I’m yours, baby…completely yours.” he said softly, wanting you to be in control of him.

Though you didn't expect the sudden change of events, his words surprised you, and it turned you on. More than you were ever willing to admit.

After the initial shock wore off within merely seconds, you didn’t hesitate as you began to bounce on top of him, the new angle making your legs shake wildly. His big hands held your hips perfectly in pace as he matched your rhythm, silently thankful that you lived alone as the volume in the room was growing louder with each passing second. You watched as he threw his head back with a soft whine, keeping his eyes on you the whole time as you slowly started to find your release.

“That’s it sweetheart…that’s it.” he spoke soothingly as he leaned up to place wet kisses across your stomach, his thumb finding its way to toy with your clit to send you over the edge.

You cried out loudly as that was all you needed to come undone, your muscles twitching as you rode it out as long as you possibly could. Feeling you clench around him mixed with the lustful sounds that came out of you was all Daryl could take before he reached his own climax, swiftly pulling out of you as he groaned lowly against your skin.

You didn’t know how much time passed as the two of you were in a complete state of bliss, trying to come down from the incredible high you just experienced. You felt his hands trace soothing circles against your hips as his face was now buried in your breasts, feeling the heat of his breath dancing against your bare skin. A content sigh left your lips as you found yourself wondering why it had taken you two so long to do this. But then again you assumed it was never the right time, and in your opinion it was worth the wait. You couldn’t think of anything more perfect than this.

Daryl then began to come to his senses as his heart finally slowed down to a steady pace, his lips beginning to trail up towards your collarbone lovingly. Your fingers ran through his messy, tangled hair, growing a bit sad as you looked down at him, reality coming back to remind you that this couldn’t last forever. But a selfish part of you wanted it to.

“Don’t go.” you whispered.

He looked up from what he was doing, seeing the slightly distraught look on your face that instantly made his lips morph into a frown, “What’re you talkin bout?”

You shook your head, “Stay…stay here with me. Don’t go.”

His eyes softened as he raised his hands to gently cup your face, “Hey, I ain’t goin anywhere sweetheart. M’ stayin right here.”

“But…what about Judith? RJ? I can’t…I don’t want to make you choose.” you said softly, fearing that in the back of your mind, things would just go back to how they were. Regardless of the passion you shared.

He smiled softly, “Baby, you ain’t makin me choose. We’ll figure somethin else out together, alright? Because I do know one thing…I sure as hell don’t want us to be apart like that ever again.”

You slowly nodded your head in agreement, “I don’t want that either…you have no idea how much I missed you. Leaving you was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made.”

“It ain’t gonna happen again. I promise.” he said before leaning in to gently kiss your lips.

You didn’t know how, but his words mixed with the gentle kiss seemed to slowly melt your worries away as you couldn’t think about anything else but him. In the end you knew it would work itself out, feeling more content in this moment with him than you had felt in a very long time. Daryl made a mistake on letting you leave, his own frustration stopping him from preventing you from walking out that door, telling you how much you meant to him. Though he couldn’t change the past, and all those long months you missed out on with each other, he sure as hell could plan for the future.

And he was never planning on letting you go again.

~ Thanks for reading!

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harryslittlefreakk · 6 months ago

Text

too sweet

summary: essentially porn with little plot… or .. when her boss decides that letting her go is in her best interests, y/n decides to show him exactly what he’s missing out on.

warnings: swearing, light angst, smut (rough sex, oral m receiving, slight domrry) also don’t ask me how he can receive oral if she’s on the desk ?? it just happened

wordcount: 2.8k

a/n: much like the rest of the world, i can’t stop listening to too sweet :) and to me it has ceorry written all over it!! as always please let me know if you enjoyed!! I really want to start trying my hand at more tropes and aus so please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see!!!

my masterlist & taglist can be found here 💖 love you

“Mr Styles, I-”

“I promise you, sweetheart. It’s not a set back, it’s just-”

“I can show you, please.” You were begging and pleading like this job hadn’t been draining the life out of you for months now. You knew that Harry was right, but you didn’t want to, couldn’t, accept another failure.

“Listen.” His words were stern but his face was soft as he reached over the table, placing a ringed hand over the top of yours. “It’s not personal. To succeed in this business you need grit. No one ever got to the top without a hint of cunt, me included.”

He held up his free hand as you opened your mouth, silencing you before the words had even begun to form. “You are special. You don’t have that mean streak, and I refuse to be the one to manufacture it within you. I will find a spot in this company for you, shift people around if I have to. You need to find a role that grows with you, not one that will tear you down.”

You nodded slowly, speechless as his words sunk in. How can you be fired for being too nice? Not cunty enough? You tugged your hand away from Harry’s as if it burned you, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Is this because of the cakes?” you asked, cringing as you thought back to all the nice things you’d done around the office. If you weren’t supposed to be nice, why not put that in the job description? Under requirements: IT skills, maths degree, asshole.

Harry laughed, leaning back in his seat as he grinned at you. “In a way, I guess it is because of the cakes. Just trust me, okay? This is for the best. I’d never forgive myself if I turned you into a monster. Finance is a cut-throat world,” he finished, staring out into the office.

When he didn’t say anymore, you stood up, smoothing out your skirt across your thighs. “Thank you for your time, Mr Styles. I’ll wrap up my work and send it over to you, I assume you won’t need me past lunch?”

“No, that’s all. Thank you y/n,” he smiled, nodding as you turned away.

“Dick,” you muttered, pulling the door closed behind you. You could hardly rant and rave to his face, especially after repeatedly hearing how nice you are, but you were inwardly seething. Treating your colleagues like shit would be a good reason to get fired, treating your clients like shit would be a better one. But to be too kind? You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make sense to you, but it was still downright unfair. You had grit, and you’d show him.

You sat silent and dignified until the office left for lunch, wrapping up with the clients you had and sending the remainder to Harry. No one stayed past lunch on a Friday, so the second the last stragglers left, you rushed to the Harry’s office door. You had no game plan, except for bursting in and proving him wrong. Only, as soon as you were about to reach out and knock on the door, it swung open. “Y/n.”

“I have grit,” you told him, slipping past him into his office. It was all you could think to say.

“I-”

“Close the door please,” you motioned your head towards Harry’s seat, signalling for him to sit back down. He was frozen in the doorway, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. “I have grit,” you repeated, gaze following Harry as he pushed the door closed and circled back around his desk.

“You said that,” he sniggered, loosening his grey tie as he watched you pace around the office. “If I didn’t have grit,” you started, willing something entirely different to come out your mouth, knowing that it wouldn’t. “I wouldn’t mention that I know you spent the entire Christmas party in here with Stephanie. With the door locked. And I wouldn’t mention that I’ve noticed the way you look at me,” you finished, eyes glued to the skyline behind Harry’s head.

His jaw clenched a few times, his hands flexing against the wood of his desk. “Good point,” he murmured, his expression totally unreadable as he looked at you. “Come and sit down.”

You padded over tentatively, fingertips gripping the back of the chair as you pulled it out in front of you.

“Not there.” He pushed his chair back, tapping on the wood between his hands.

“What are you-” you started, gaze darting between Harry’s icy stare and your feet, dragging themselves the short distance to Harry’s desk.

“You came here to show me you have grit, no?”

You nodded, heart in your throat as you perched on the edge. “How were you going to show me?” he continued, his eyes unrelenting in their pursuit of weakness within you.

You knew what your game-plan was, but you weren’t expecting Harry to catch on and call your bluff. His voice was muffled by the blood pounding in your ears, your jaw tight as you tried to remain composed under his watch. He leaned back when you stayed silent, one eyebrow raising slightly as his gaze raked down your body. “What were you going to do, y/n?” he asked again, hooking one foot around yours to pull your legs open.

A tiny gasp falling from your lips was the only sound you made, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Harry reached forward, pushing your skirt up around your hips until he saw a flash of your red panties. “I think,” he started, fingertips trailing down your exposed thigh. “You were going to show me that sweet little cunt, show me what it can do. Am I right?” he continued, satisfied as he looked at the trail of goosebumps his touch had left.

You nodded again, eyes fluttering closed in a bid to expel some of the anticipation creeping through your core. “Use your words,” Harry muttered, tugging on your thighs until you landed in his lap.

You opened your eyes, inches away from his face as he splayed a hand across your lower back. “Yes, sir,” you whispered, a shiver running down your spine. His cock twitched beneath your core at the name, his eyes dark.

“From this moment onwards, anything that happens within these walls is between us. Do you understand?” Harry asked, his voice husky and yet somehow softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Of course,” you replied, hoping your eyes communicated the sincerity that your words couldn’t.

Harry placed his free hand on your hip, pushing you down slightly until his firm cock bulged against your entrance.

“What are you and your grit going to do about this then?” he smirked, his fingertips digging into your clothed flesh. You almost choked on the lump in your throat, eyes bulging as you shifted on top of Harry’s girth. His stare was like a challenge, daring you to retreat or prove yourself wrong. But you’d gone too far to back down now, so you swallowed the first taste of tomorrow’s regret and locked your eyes on his, rolling your hips across his lap before stepping off of him.

You answered his questioning frown by sitting back on your heels between his legs, reaching forward with a tentative hand to palm him over his trousers. Harry let you feel him for a second, before swatting you away to unzip his slacks and push them down his thighs.

From the moment you’d first met him, you knew Harry was objectively hot. He was attractive in the same way a friend’s dad would be - enough to appreciate but too out of reach for it to be any more than that. But now as you stared up at him, the strained fabric of his Calvins tight against the cock he was about to fuck your face with, he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Harry tugged the waistband of his boxers down, only enough to set his length free, grabbing hold of your wrist. “No one is to know,” he growled, waiting for your confirmation before guiding your hand to his length.

“No one, sir,” you murmured, pressing your parted lips to the side of his shaft as he pulled his hand away.

“Good girl,” was all Harry could manage as your pout wrapped around his tip, your tongue swirling across the nerves. You let your saliva drip down him, rubbing it across his skin with an unsteady yet firm hand. It felt dirty, transactional almost as if he might let you stay if you performed well enough for him. But you knew you didn’t want that, and he wouldn’t want you working for him once you’d milked his cock for all it had.

You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled your mouth away from him, your hand still working up and down his length. Your gaze darted up to meet his, the hunger in his eyes unlike anything you’d seen before. He was almost animalistic, something feral juxtaposed in his features as he watched you silently, frozen in place. You willed yourself to look away as you bent further down, poking out your tongue to lick a wet line along his cock, but you couldn’t focus on anything but Harry’s face. Your arousal was pooling between your thighs, a breathy moan tumbling past your lips as you took more of him into your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You couldn’t take him all, not even close, so your hands worked at the rest of him, one wrapped around his base while the other found his balls, squeezing them gently as your cheeks tightened against his girth. Harry let out a small groan, his first display of your mouth having any effect on him, his hand instinctively tangling into your hair as if he’d been here with you before.

He used his grip to hold your head steady, directing your mouth up and down his length. His cock was knocking into the back of your throat, your whimpers mixing with groans and splutters, until he stopped suddenly, pushing back in his chair until there was distance between the two of you. You were too much, the sight of your pout wrapped around his tip too much for him to take.

“Up,” he demanded, placing a protective hand over the edge of the desk to save you knocking your head. You pulled yourself up to meet where he stood, resting against the desk to take the weight off your shaky legs. Harry’s thumb swiped across your jaw, his eyes fixed on your face. Your swollen red pout, your heavy-lidded eyes, mascara gathered under your lower lashes. You looked a fucking mess, and he was loving every second of it.

He bent down slightly, fingers slipping under your skirt to hook around the side of your panties. He pulled them off, helping you to raise both feet, before stuffing them into the pocket of his slacks.

“Turn around,” Harry murmured, nodding as you obeyed him. His fingers trailed across your hips, pushing on your back until your stomach hit the wood of his desk.

You let out a whimper as he pressed a hand between your legs, his fingertips dancing across your skin until they met your entrance, hot and sticky and so ready for him. Harry swiped a finger through your folds, a tiny chuckle the only sound he made as you squirmed, his free hand splayed across your back, keeping you pinned down. “Got yourself all worked up f’me, huh?” he drawled, voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, too overcome with need to form any words. Harry pressed into you, collecting your juices on his tip before pushing himself inside, eyes screwed shut as your walls constricted around him. Your whimpers turned into a string of expletives, his girth too much for you to take. “Tight little cunt, all for me,” Harry whispered, stilling inside of you now that he’d bottomed out. His hands were digging into the skin of your ass, your curves engulfing the base of his cock. “All for you,” you panted, desperately trying to find something to grip on to, something to steady you while Harry tore you in two.

He pulled back, mouth hanging open as he watched himself emerge from your pretty pink lips, his length already smothered in your juices. He wanted to resist, to be gentle with you, but your cunt was begging him to destroy it, to instil in it some of the grit you claimed to have. It was between his head and his heart, yet Harry could only think with his cock.

He slammed into you hard, your hips knocking against the edge of his desk, the contents of his drawers rattling as he drilled into you. His office was far from sound proof, and any stragglers left in the building would hear nothing but your cries and screams as he rocked his hips into yours, his cock hitting every inch of you. But that only spurred him on further, the thrill of your pleasure coursing through his veins. He landed a blow on the curve of your ass, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he watched the red hand print appear, the skin bouncing with every snap of his hips.

“Fuck, Har- fuck,” you cried, breathless as Harry slammed his hips into yours before pulling out completely. He grabbed at your waist, tugging at your dress for you to turn over. “I need to see you,” he growled, eyes completely darkened when you turned to face him. You’d never seen him with as much as a hair out of place, yet now he looked possessed by his own lust. He was messy, curls hanging down his forehead and a blush to his cheeks, shirt half unbuttoned.

He circled around your clit as you looked him up and down, eyes never leaving yours. “Taking me like a fucking good girl,” he whispered, pushing back into your entrance.

“I can’t- please, sir,” you whimpered, chest heaving as he continued fucking into you with the same ferocity as before. Between his cock, his fingers, his face, you were coming apart. He was twitching inside of you with every moan that left your lips, his own climax creeping up as quickly as yours was. He stilled for a moment, his fingers never ceasing as they rubbed pleasure into your nerves. “You can, and you will. Come for me,” he urged, grabbing a hold of your waist as he thrust into you, each snap of his hips pushing you closer to the edge.

“I’m, fuck-” was all you could cry, your mouth falling open as you shook and writhed under him, his words coaxing out an orgasm stronger than you’d ever imagined. Your eyes brimming with tears, brows knitted as you cried out, hips bucking into the palm of his hand. Harry slowed down slightly, seconds between each thrust as he worked you through your high, your cream coating every inch of his thick cock.

The second you stilled, he slipped his hand under your back, pulling you up to sit as he pulled his cock from you. Harry dragged a thumb across your bottom lip, smirking at your tiny pout as you felt the emptiness in your cunt. “Open up,” he whispered, replacing his thumb with his tip, pushing it past your lips as he worked his hand up and down the length.

You took him into your mouth for the second time that day, the mix of your juices like sweet nectar against your tongue. You were dizzy from your climax, every inch of your core on fire from the sheer brutality of his cock, your walls still pulsing. Harry was grunting and groaning, even his moans husky as he twitched between your lips, his jaw tensing as he came undone, hot cum shooting to the back of your throat.

He held a hand to the nape of your neck, grounding himself as he bucked into you, filling you up at a much faster rate than you could swallow. “Good girl,” he cooed, letting you lick every last drop of cum from his tip before he pulled away, sinking down into his chair as his hand dropped down your body.

You leaned your arms back against the desk, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to catch your breath, the stinging of your entrance doubled by the sudden lack of touch.

Harry kept watching you, still under your spell, unable to will his eyes away as you panted. “You have grit,” he whispered, a glimmer in his eye. “But I can’t let you work for me after that.”

“As long as you know I have grit, Mr. Styles,” you smirked, rolling your head down to look at him again.

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7 @harrystylesluverrrr @cohnfusedarling @ell0ra-br3kk3r @stylesfever

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

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bloodibambiidoll · 1 month ago

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⟡˖ ࣪ A Dripping Inconvenience ⟡˖

✬ Kinktober Day 3 ⟢ Eric Draven ⟢ Squirting/Overstim ✬

Warnings: Brother’s bestfriend troupe, size difference, fingering, pussy eating, pet names, choking, overstimulation, squirting, cock piercings, hickies, possessiveness, AU(no Shelly/crow), biting, a tiny bit of blood, reader has nipple piercings 18+MDNI

You spent most of the day cleaning your brother’s dirty ass apartment while he was out of town so you had absolutely no reservations about helping yourself to a fat plate of nachos from his kitchen and a blunt, or two, from his stash. You were one blunt, half a plate of nachos, and two episodes into your show when abrupt banging on the door ripped you from your chill evening. You practically jump out of your skin at the amount of force behind the knocks, the weed in your system making you slightly paranoid until you hear the voice behind the door.

“Chance, come on, man!! I really need your fucking help!” You’d recognize your brother’s best friend’s voice anywhere. Considering you were just a little bit obsessed with him. And he sounds extremely stressed. Another round of knocks pulls you from your thoughts and has you shooting to your feet so you can walk the short distance between the couch and the door. You hastily unlock and open it to reveal a disheveled looking Eric Draven. His black mullet is even messier than usual and dripping wet from the storm raging outside. Which makes the fact that all he’s wearing is a distressed black tee and even more distressed black jeans borderline insane as the cloth covering his body drips onto the carpet in the hallway. He’s panting heavily and the look in his eyes is the one of someone running from something. Fear and urgency. “Oh, fuck. What’re you doing here? Where’s your brother?”

You’re not taken back by his brash tone, Eric had always been short and avoidant with you. You’re his best friend’s annoying little, kid sister that used to beg to play with them and that’s all you’ll ever be to him. Fucking unfortunately. But the way he towers over you makes you suddenly acutely aware of the fact that all you’re wearing is a tiny, white, Hello Kitty tank top, even tinier pink panties that hardly cover your hips or ass, and your black platform Uggs with white ruffle socks. You took a shower after you finished cleaning and despite the amount of time you spent vacuuming, your brother's floors were perpetually disgusting so you refused to walk around in his house without some kind of shoes.

“He’s out of town, I’m house sitting and watching the dogs.” You scoff and roll your eyes before tipping your head over your shoulder to gesture inside toward your brother’s two dogs standing guard behind you. If they hadn’t known Eric their whole lives they’d probably be barking their heads off right now. “What are you doing here? Are you good?”

“Not fucking really, no.” Eric sighs and throws his head back while running his tattooed hands down his face. He drops them to his side before locking eyes with you and you have to physically stop yourself from clenching your thighs from the way he is glowering down at you. When you were kids he was shorter than most of the other boys and now his body fills the entire length of the doorway he’s standing in. He was just so big. “I just really needed to talk to your brother, alright? And it’s just really inconvenient that you’re here right now.”

“Seriously? What is your fucking problem with me, Eric? We aren’t little kids anymore. It’s just immature at this point.” You stomp your foot for emphasis and glare up at him with your lips set into an ironic pout considering you just called him immature.

“My problem?” Eric crowds your space even further and you can nearly feel the dampness of his clothes against your body from his proximity. He leans down until his face is mere inches from yours, his green eyes ablaze as he breathes out deep through his nostrils. “Is that I’m in some deep shit. I have some fucked people after me. You being here, near me, puts you in harm's way and that isn’t going to work for me.”

“That isn’t going to work for you? You’re joking, right? You don’t give a fuck about me.” You laugh dryly and shake your head at the irony of this entire situation.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Eric closes the remaining distance between you, pressing his wet body against your barely covered skin. “I give too many fucks about you and now you’re here, looking up at me in that annoyed way you always do.” He chuckles and one of his large hands reaches up to cup the side of your face. “You think it hides how badly you want me, but it doesn’t.”

“W- What?” You gasp at the feeling of his skin on yours. He’s been close to you before, but never like this. “I don’t -“

“Shh. Let’s not waste time denying it. The fact that you want me is as clear as the sky being blue.” Eric’s thumb reaches out to trace along your bottom limp and you have to hold in a whimper. “It's only ever made it harder for me to be a good friend to your brother and stay away from you. I think my final restraint might be slipping. Fucking look at you.”

“You should… come in?” Your voice comes out a squeaky whisper and it makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. A slow smile spreads across Eric’s face, he places his hands on your hips and starts to back step you into the apartment before kicking the door shut behind him. The minute it’s shut his lips are on yours in a kiss that makes your entire body ignite with fire. His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls your much smaller frame taunt against his own. His tongue explores your mouth and you moan into him while you start to subconsciously grind down on his thigh. Eric kisses you for what feels like an eternity before grabbing onto your hair at the nape of your neck and using it to pull your head back.

“I won’t be gentle. I’m really stressed the fuck out right now and I don’t have it in me to take my time with you.” Eric’s free hand grips onto your ass so tight his finger nails dig into your flesh as he continues to yank your hair. The stinging pains make you moan and grind down on him harder. “Oh? Is that how you like it, brat?” The condescending nickname he called you growing up held an entirely different meaning as it fell from his lips now. It makes your pussy clench around nothing as the wetness in your underwear grows. “Answer me.”

“Yes, fuck. I like it rough.” At that Eric circles an arm around your waist and throws you over his shoulder. He carries you over to the couch and tosses you down on it onto your back. He stands over you with an almost carnivorous look in his eyes as he takes you in. You’re so fucking perfect that he can’t stand it. Your brother told him around the time you all hit puberty to stay the absolute fuck away from you but looking down at you in your tiny pink thong and tight little hello kitty tank top has him practically forgetting who your brother even is. Especially when you throw one of your legs over the back of the couch, revealing the large wet spot between them. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Oh, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for princess, but your wish is my command.” Eric licks his lips before leaning down between your legs to kiss you like a man starved. His mouth tastes like cigarettes and rain and something almost sweet that must be naturally Eric. It’s everything you ever dreamed of as his big hands travel all over your body. He yanks your hair, grips onto your throat, runs his hands down your chest and grabs your tits and squeezes your nipples while he ruts his hard Jean covered cock against you. He bites down on your lip so hard you feel when the skin breaks and you can taste the crimson drip into both your mouths. Eric licks across your lips and down your chin to your pulse point where he sucks over and over again until your neck is covered in pretty purple and red bruises that will soon turn green and blue.

“You’re fucking, mine. Your blood is mine, your body is mine.” Eric kisses down your chest and pushes your shirt up to reveal your pretty pierced tits that make him groan at the sight. He tells you how pretty they are as he licks and sucks across them, marking them up just like your neck. He continues down your body until he gets to the band of your panties and he licks across it before kissing down your mound and running the flat of his tongue along your lace covered slit. “This pussy is fucking mine. Say it.”

“Fuck, my pussy is yours, Eric. I’ve always been yours.” He practically growls at that before pushing your panties to the side and smacking his hand down on your sopping cunt. “Shit!”

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” He lands a second smack on your clit before pressing the heel of his palm down on it and toying at your entrance with two of his thick fingers. “You look so tight though, we’re going to have to stretch you out, if you’re going to be able to take me.”

“I think I can take it - oh fuck!” Eric plunges his fingers knuckle deep inside you and your wet walls suck him in. Your back arches off the couch but his knee comes up to pin your thigh so you can’t move. His free hand reaches for his belt and undoes his pants enough to pull his cock free, the sight of it makes your jaw drop. It’s fucking huge. Thick, long and slightly curved, the head is perfect and dripping with precum, and best of all? The entire fucking length of his shaft is pierced. Maybe you do need him to stretch you out after all.

“Yeah, not so cocky now, huh?” Eric chuckles as he curls his fingers inside you and continues to grind his palm against your aching clit. He caresses your g-spot and rubs the tips of fingers along your walls before thrusting them in and out of you brutally quick. Your pussy is so wet it squelches and your juices start to drip down your thighs. Eric leans down and takes your clit in his mouth and it has your eyes rolling back. Your entire body stiffens as pleasure overtakes you. He keeps sucking your clit hard until your orgasm finally wavers but he doesn’t stop. The flat of his tongue licks your bud firmly as he twists his wrist and scissors his fingers inside you causing you to come again immediately.

He finally pulls his mouth off of you and you feel like you can breathe for a moment. That is until you look down at him. His hair is a disaster from you yanking on it and the entire bottom half of his face is covered in your creamy juices. Eric leans in to kiss you, giving you a taste of yourself. “You’re such a good girl for me. Give me another one.” He doesn’t pull his fingers from you and fuck you like you’d hoped he would but he resumes thrusting them in and out of you at a brutal pace and your pussy juices drip down his wrist and onto the couch.

“Oh my fucking god! I don’t think I can - fuck I just - I need a minute-“ Your sentence is cut short when Eric’s hand flies out to grip onto your throat.

“Oh, baby, no. You’re going to come for me as many times as I say and then I’ll finally give you my cock and you’ll come on that too.” Eric chuckles as squeezes your throat as he fucks you with his long fingers. His thumb reaches out to caress your clit and euphoria washes over you again. “Yeah, that’s it, you’re so good for me, Angel.”

“I - it’s so good, too good, I don’t think I can come again - oh fuck!” Eric’s grip leaves your throat and grips under your ass to tilt your hips up off the couch making his fingers hit deeper inside you.

“Shhh, just come for me.” He spreads them and twists his wrist before going back to the quick drive of his digits inside you. He spits on your clit before pressing hard on it with his thumb and your walls pulse around him as cum floods from your pussy. You squirt around his fingers and he doesn’t stop his assault on your pussy until you squirt two more times for him. Your chest is heaving and your entire body is shaking by the time he finally pulls his fingers from inside you and uses your juices to lube up his fat cock. “You were such a good girl for me, now lay back and take my cock like the good little fuck doll I always wanted.”

Tagging some fellow Eric lovers: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @myherometalhead @that-sarcastic-writer @ghoul-friendz @taintandviolent 🖤

#Dolly writes #Dolly’s kinktober #kinktober #Eric Draven #eric draven 2024 #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #eric draven smut #eric draven fanfiction #eric draven x reader #eric draven x you #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard x reader

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torubeth · 8 months ago

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aren’t you going to write “degradation taken too far” but with satoru? 🫦😰😭

you asked for it babe; i didn’t wanna hurt yall gojo girlies (inc myself) but you want pain? ok. pain is what you get. warnings : (mature content 18+) smut, degradation, gojo being mean (yes it’s a warning), angst to comfort??and maybe have a tissue box or two????

‘look at the gorgeous mess that you are baby. never knew you’d fold this easy’ he remarks, lips trailing down your body, sucking violet coloured hickeys along the way.

‘satoru- i already told you that the last time, will be the last time! so why are you-!’ slowly but gently he slides in, a wave of contentment washing over you, immediately shutting you up.

‘hmm what was that? mind repeating it f’me sweetheart?’ he smirks.

you decided to stay quiet because what’s the use? you’re gonna end up with him on top you again. mostly tomorrow. and the day after that.

and that’s when you realise that the pace was starting to pick up and his hands were now on your clit, rubbing hard circles eliciting nothing but moans and whines from you.

‘satoru oh my god! shit, feel so good i feel like i’m gonna cum!’ you reach up to slither your arms around his shoulders, your breathy pants now right by ear.

‘toru agh! fuck fuck- i…i love you satoru, i love you so much! please, if you keep this up i might-’ suddenly with a roughness unknown to you, he pulls out.

‘wait wait wait, why’d you stop? i was so close-!’ you pant, leaning up on your elbows.

instantly, there was a shift in his aura.

‘love? you said love? what makes you think i will ever love someone like you? you’re just a hole to fuck. a passing cloud. something for me to do when i’m bored of my fucked up life. nothing more’ he erupts.

‘what?’ your voice was reduced to nothing but a whisper.

‘where in the wide wide vicinity of your fantasy land did you come up with ‘love’ ?’ he spat.

‘i mean seriously, you thought this was something-‘ he knew what he was saying was far from the truth.

why would he not love you? what is there not to love? if he knew what love meant, it’s because of you.

but you shouldn’t love him, but you do. why? why do you wanna be with him? why do you wanna be tied down to someone like him?

meanwhile your mind is racing with a million different thoughts, not knowing what or how to respond.

‘it’s best if you just leave’ he finishes.

you didn’t need to hear the entirety of his speech to know that you were…disposable? replaceable?

the dam breaks and tears stream down your cheeks, eyes red and body trembling. you gather of what’s left of your heart and face him ‘this really is the last time’ you whisper, meaning every word, clutching hard at the sheets for some kind of comfort, without breaking the eye contact.

that’s when his eyes look at you.

your eyes. god, your eyes. they were one of the reasons he fell in love with you. they were fierce, beautiful and always on him. but now they were broken, filled with pain and tears, still beautiful and held nothing but ache.

next was your lips he loved kissing so much. his personal favourite, was always ready to put him in his place and bring him to his knees. now they were trembling. in hate, or fear? he thinks he doesn’t really wanna know the reason behind that.

taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves because there was no going back now. the cat and mouse chase ends here.

suddenly, a huge wave of warmth enveloped you and it took you mere two seconds to realise that he was hugging you, and hardly a second for you to come to the realisation that you would never push him away.

‘i want you to know that you mean so much to me. a while ago my world was nothing but dark, but you came painted it all, giving meaning to each and every little thing in it. i deserve to rot in hell cuz fuck, i didn’t mean a word of what came out of my mouth’ and that’s when you felt little drops on your neck.

never once has he cried in front of you, always going on about how ‘the strongest never cry’

‘you mean the world to me baby. when you told me you loved me, i was brain dead. never knew i was capable of being loved by someone like you. i mean, why would you love someone like me? all my versions are nothing but a wretched mess, so why would you-?’

pulling back to look at him, your eyes are stern when you tell him-

‘you are actually an idiot if you think i care about any of that’ wiping away his tears, your hands rest against his cheeks.

‘i want all your versions satoru. flaws and all. i want them to course through my veins. i want you in all my mornings and all my nights. i want you everywhere. and if you’re going down, i’m willing to go down with you. so please, please don’t push me away’ you said because loving him was as easy as breathing, your eyes once again starting to tear up.

and that was the confirmation he needed, as he leaned down ‘i love you, i love you so much. i fucking love you’ chanting over and over again. pressing kisses everywhere. your nose, lips, cheeks, forehead, everywhere.

‘i adore you and i promise to cherish you like you deserve till we’re old and wrinkly’ he bumps his nose against yours, earning a small laugh from you.

‘i know you will satoru’ you whisper, bumping his nose in return ‘i will love you till we’re old wrinkly too’

#THIS WAS UNNECESSARILY LONG BYE #I LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCH #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader

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miupow · 10 months ago

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ᴄʀᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ★ ᴄ.ʏᴊ

❝Your blood sucking boyfriend needs you bad, and he doesn't care how late it is.❞

PAIRING: vampire!choi yeonjun x fem!reader RATING: NSFW, MDNI! WARNINGS: smut, established relationship, vampire au, soft dom!yeonjun, soft sex, blood mention/blood sucking, vampire venom mention (kind of works like an aphrodisiac?), breast/nipple play, vaginal fingering, begging, dirty talk, like the smallest hint of anal (f. rec), praise kink, sickly sweet pet names WORDS: 1.3k A/N: this is a repost from my old account! originally written for my halloween event.

TAGLIST: @wintertxt, @boba-beom, @wolfytae-exe, @takemehye, @naomiarai , @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @bunnie-hq , @doumachi, @numxra, @soobinsbuns, @taegimood, @jeniihss, @soobabby, @hhoneylix

You're just on the verge of falling asleep when you feel strong arms wrap tight around your waist, the bed dipping to accommodate your boyfriend sliding into bed behind you. His bare chest presses up snug against your back, skin cold as ice, and you shiver when he leans his head down to press chaste kisses against your shoulder.

“I’m hungry,” Yeonjun whines in your ear, voice breathy and tight— you can feel his sharp canines graze your skin as he talks, his hips bump up against the swell of your ass; you can feel the weight of his cock through your thin nightgown like there was nothing but skin, stiff and twitching… so it was going to be one of those nights. “Need you bad, baby..”

“But Jjunie, I was sleeping,” You whine back, petulant, trying to ignore the heat collecting in your belly. Your boyfriend always had such terrible timing.

“Mmm, don’t care~” Yeonjun coos, drags his teeth across your shoulder again, this time letting it catch on the strap of your nightgown, drag it down your arm. The side of your gown falls, exposing one of your tits, and Yeonjun is quick to cup it in his palm, pinch your nipple in between his index finger and thumb. “I'm starving, need you now… I can hear your heartbeat, my princess, I know you need me too~~”

He tugs hard on your nipple, makes your breath hitch, hips grind down, heart skip— he heard it, you could tell, with how he chuckles smugly into the crook of your neck. “Smells so good..” he moans, nose burrowing further, begging for you to bear your neck to him— you do so without a fight, relish in the way he sucks in a breath, inhales your scent deeply. “Always taste so good, too… Please, just a bite…”

You grit your teeth, prepared for the bite, but it never comes— instead Yeonjun licks a fat stripe up your neck with the flat of his tongue, nasty and lewd and leaving a wet trail that stings in the cool air. He finishes just under your ear, and you can nearly hear his smirk as he ghosts his canines across your skin, pretty pouty lips sucking a dark purple bruise. You gasp, bare more of your neck, twist in Yeonjun's strong embrace; your hips rock harder, faster together, sheer fabric of your nightgown wet with Yeonjun's precum and slowly riding up your thighs from the friction.

“Touch me,” you beg in a whisper, drenched panties sticking to your core. Yeonjun chuckles deep in his chest.

“Let me feed,” he twists your nipple one last time, letting go to trail his hand slow down your stomach to meet the lacy hem of your gown. He always knew exactly what card to play to get you to give in.

“Fuck, fine, okay, just make it quick--” you plead, mostly for your own sanity— you could feel Yeonjun grin against your neck, hardly giving you any time to prepare before he bore his sharp fangs into you.

“shit!” you hiss from the pain; no matter how many times you let Yeonjun feed from you, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the sting and the burn from his bites. He's quick to apologize, his fingers finally coming to rest on your covered clit. He rubs a few gentle circles, fast and precise, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, and finally, finally the searing pain of his teeth is drowned out by the euphoria of his venom.

You feel hot, burning, Yeonjun's cold tongue and breath doing nothing to cool you down— he licks up your blood in fat, broad swipes, wet and messy as he groans in your ear. “So good~” he pants hard, hips bucking, long index finger leaving your clit to trail down your soaked slit. “shit, you’re so wet for me…”

You're dizzy, lightheaded, foggy brain unable to keep up with all of the pleasure; your hips flutter wildly, legs spread wide to give Yeonjun the most access. “Want you,” you garble, pussy soaked and clenching around nothing.

Yeonjun momentarily pulls off of your neck, entranced by the way your blood pools around the puncture marks. You immediately whine pathetically for him, squirming, dazed and craving his lips back on your skin. “You want me, baby?” he teases, gentle fingers continuing to stroke your folds. “Want me how?”

His fingertip catches the hem of your panties, and you keen high in your throat— you can hardly speak, let alone string a sentence together, pretty little head empty and full of only Yeonjun… you want to cry out for him, watery, but all you manage is a pathetic, choked “Jjunie, your fingers, want your fingers, please—!”

Your face burns, but Yeonjun is just as desperate as you are— he tugs your panties down your thighs in one swift motion, leaving them bunched around your knees to stuff your cunt full with two bony fingers— you let out a sob at the intrusion, head lolling back just enough for yeonjun to continue getting his fill. You welcome the feeling of his lips and tongue, shaking and whimpering as he begins to scissor you open to the rhythm of his suckles on your neck.

“Mmm, ahh— Yeonjun!” you beg, but you’re not sure what for— Yeonjun's fingertips rub your sweet spot with perfect precision, his thumb coming up to rub tight, slick circles on your clit; you spread your legs wider, keen for more; your boyfriend gives it to you with a snicker, slides in a third finger alongside the others. “Please, please—“

“Please what?” Yeonjun goads, finishing his work on your neck with a lavish flick of his tongue. His fingers pump your pussy with vigor, nasty wet noises spilling from your drenched folds— he curses with a moan, grabs again at your tit with his free hand, tweaking and tugging at your sensitive bud. “God, you’re so perfect f’me, perfect girl… feed me so well, so delicious~”

Your bite had stopped bleeding, healed over with a few sweet kitten licks from your lover, but his venom still coursed through your veins, set your skin on fire, belly taught and aching cunt begging for release— you were still under his thrall, perfect little doll for him to play with after he’s gotten his meal. The pace of Yeonjun's fingers were brutal against your sweet spot, palm of his hand sending hot sparks through your clit with every rock of your hips… His leaking, throbbing cock, nestled between your cheeks, fat cockhead sliding thick and heavy against your asshole with every sloppy thrust— Yeonjun kisses your earlobe, bites down gently, whispers so sweet and fond, “C'mon baby, please what? i haven’t gotten you stupid on my fingers now, have i?”

“I’m gonna cum!” you wail in response, pussy fluttering around his digits, clit pulsating, your hips wild caught in between his hand and his hips; Yeonjun coos, twists and bends his fingers just the way you like it, the heat coiled tightly in your belly threatening to snap. “Please, gonna cum, wanna cum, let me cum!”

“Nasty girl, creaming all over my fingers after i suck her dry,” Yeonjun giggles, cock twitching hard against your fluttering asshole. “Go ahead, princess, make a fuckin’ mess.”

His free hand leaves your sore tit to pinch hard at your clit, long fingers fucking you open and playing with you just so perfect and right— you cum with a sharp cry, stretched out walls spasming, clamping down on yeonjun’s digits, swollen lips fluttering as you completely drench his hands in your release— Yeonjun talks you through it with sickly sweet “good girl”s and “good job”s, sticky fingers working your pretty abused hole despite just how hard you were clamping down, forcing them out— “So tight,” he groans brokenly in your ear, “Gotta fuck you now~”

“I said be quick—“ you retort, voiced fried, bratty despite letting Yeonjun manhandle you with ease— he towers over you on the bed, hips knocking, fat cock brushing against your folds and making you whimper… Yeonjun grabs your thighs in his hands, folds you in half with dizzying strength and ease; grin wolfish, eyes dark, sharp teeth catching the moonlight—

“Oh baby, we’re just beginning.”

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reidmania · 2 months ago

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sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter four, motion sickness)

'I hate you for what you did and I miss you like a little kid. i faked it every time but that's alright. i can hardly feel anything, i hardly feel anything at all, I have emotional motion sickness somebody roll the windows down, there are no words in the english language, i could scream to drown you out'

summary; you never had someone make you feel safe enough to open up, until spencer. now trying to cope with his sudden absence you learn to lean on your new found friendship with his coworker, penelope.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of bad relationships, ghosting, commitment issues, self doubt & overthinking, preettyy angsty idk guys, no comfort yet but there is some fluff, and theres penelope & reader friendship!! reader lowkey shit talks spencer but he deserves it. reader is embarrassed & upset. reader is lowkey really mean, but shes coping guys. i think this is my favourite chapter out of all of them.

2.3k words

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea a @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules

SERIES MASTERLIST

The lights are low, casting a soft, warm glow on the room, making it feel almost too cozy for the storm of emotions swirling inside of you. Penelope sits across from you on the other side of the coffee table, her vibrant personality seeming muted for once. She’s not wearing her usual bright colors, just a simple oversized shirt and pajama pants, the kind of clothes that scream comfort. It fits the night. It fits the conversation.

“You want to talk about it?” Penelope asks, voice gentle, but still full of that spark of energy that only she has. There’s no judgment there. Her eyes made you believe there never would be.

Your fingers tug absentmindedly at a loose thread on the hem of your sweatpants, the silence stretching between you like an invisible barrier. But it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Penelope doesn’t push. She doesn’t know you well enough to push. You’re not sure how to start, not sure how to talk about something you’re still struggling to process.

The night had consisted of making cookies, watching sickeningly sweet romance films you both gushed over — there were numerous times you had to stop your mind from drifting to Spencer, and when it did, you felt a sickening ache in your stomach. For the most part, besides those moments where the room fell quiet and your mind drifted, the night had been great.

“He just... stopped,” you whisper, voice barely audible, but Penelope catches it. Her eyes soften, and she leans forward slightly, offering silent encouragement for you to continue. "One day, Spencer was there, and the next... he wasn't. Theoretically of course..”

Spencer was different to anyone else you met, or at least he seemed that way. You thought he understood you. The way he listened, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he made you feel like you could breathe around him. No one had ever done that for you before. But then, when things had started getting real—when you both were on the verge of making it official—he disappeared. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was a commitment issue thing. Or if he really just had been playing with you the entire time.

“I don’t understand why,” you continue, the words tumbling out faster now, as if saying them out loud will make them make sense. “One day, we were close. He’d text me every morning. He’d ask how I was feeling, what I was doing. He made me feel… seen. Like he actually cared. And then, nothing. No calls, no messages. He just—”

“Ghosted you?” Penelope finishes for you, and the bluntness of the term hits you harder than you thought it would. You nod, feeling the sting of it all over again.

“He just disappeared,” you say, the words coming out harsh, jagged. You laugh bitterly, but there’s no humor in it. “Like I wasn’t even worth an explanation.”

Penelope’s hand reaches across the table, her fingers curling around yours in a comforting squeeze. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just lets you sit with the weight of your own pain. But her presence, her warmth, makes it feel a little less suffocating.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Spencer… he’s complicated. I don’t know why he did this to you, but I can tell you for sure, it’s not your fault. It never was.”

You close your eyes for a second, trying to swallow down the hurt, but it lingers there, a dull ache that refuses to fade. It’s not just about Spencer ghosting you; it’s about all the hope you had pinned on him. You thought he was different, thought he could be the person who made you feel safe in a way you had never felt before.

You couldn’t help the embarrassment you felt, all you had been thinking about for days was ‘how could i be so stupid.’ You had your guard up for a reason. You didn’t date for a reason, and the fact that you had let him let you forget that. You were so mad at yourself.

You missed Spencer more than you were willing to admit. Sleep evades you, and when it comes, it’s restless—haunted by the ghost of his touch. Your limbs grew weary, not from movement but from the effort of carrying the silence he left behind.

Your lips twitch into a bitter smile. “Yeah, well, maybe that’s on me. I was stupid for thinking it would be different.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Penelope says firmly, her voice suddenly fierce in a way that surprises you. “No. You were not stupid. You opened up because he made you feel like you could, and that’s on him, not you. He gave you the signals. He made the promises, and then he broke them. Spencer—he’s got his issues. He’s been through a lot, but that doesn’t excuse what he did to you. You deserved better.”

You pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly as Penelope’s words sink in. It’s hard to believe that sometimes, that you deserved better. Spencer had made you feel like you could finally let your guard down, but in the end, it just made the hurt cut deeper. — Maybe thats all you’d ever deserve.

“He made me feel safe,” you admit, your voice breaking slightly. “Which i know sounds stupid— But— I don’t know.. I trusted him.”

“And then he took that away,” Penelope finishes, her voice softening again, filled with understanding. “It’s okay to be hurt. It’s okay to be angry. You opened up to him because you trusted him, and he didn’t treat that trust the way he should have.”

You nod, biting your lip to keep the tears at bay. You hadn’t wanted to cry tonight. You hadn’t wanted to break down. But being here with Penelope, his friend, his co-worker, who was so sweet and so understanding, it’s harder to keep everything bottled up.

“I just don’t get it,” you say, voice shaking. “Why would he make me feel like I mattered, like we were something, and then just leave?”

Penelope sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Spencer’s not great at dealing with his emotions,” she explains gently. “He’s always in his head, analyzing things, trying to make sense of the world. But feelings aren’t always logical. And sometimes… sometimes he runs from things he can’t control.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Well, he sure ran fast.”

Penelope gives you a sad smile, squeezing your hand again. “I know it doesn’t make it easier, but sometimes people can care about you and still hurt you. It doesn’t mean what you had wasn’t real. It just means he is an idiot.”

You stare down at your hands, the weight of her words settling on your shoulders. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Spencer did care about you in his own way, but that didn’t change the fact that he left you when you needed him most. It didn’t change the fact that you were still trying to pick up the pieces of your heart while he was nowhere to be found.

“I mean, he’s so damn smart, right? So.. So smart, always figuring things out. But apparently, figuring out how to treat people isn’t part of his skill set.”

Penelope chuckles softly, though there’s no real humor in it. “Yeah, sometimes Spencer’s great at solving every problem except the ones that really matter.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you mutter, shaking your head. The frustration still courses through your veins, and you grip the fabric of your pants tightly, trying to channel it somewhere, anywhere. “I’m not going to sit around waiting for some half-assed explanation either. If he wanted to tell me why he bailed, he would have.”

She nodded her head. “He is dumb.” She said.

A laugh passed through your lips as you nodded quickly in agreement. “How is he so smart — and sweet yet such a fucking coward? I’m so pissed that he couldn’t even end things in person — that he didn’t even say anything.” You ran your hands down your face.

Penelope smiled. Maybe you were being mean in order to deflect from the hurt in your heart and the way your brain fizzled with an overwhelming ache for the comfort of Spencer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ask him about it?” She asked.

You were quick to shake your head. While you were desperate for an answer of what you could have possibly done — you weren’t desperate enough to go through his friends to get an answer. You refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing you cared so much. “No. No- Please don’t— Does he even know we have been talking?” Penelope was quick to shake her head with a grin.

“Nope! I haven’t said anything to him.. I sent a photo to JJ earlier of your bobble head collection, but I highly doubt she would’ve just shown Spencer?” She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders slightly. The words made you frown, yet glad. You didn’t care about Penelope sharing your silly bobble head collection, it was something you were very proud of.

“I don’t really care if he knows. Is it bad I hope he is really mad? Like I hope he is really really pissed off about it. Is that petty?” You tumbled out the questions as your mind swirled. You hoped he was mad because at least then in some way maybe you could believe he cared.

“Yes. Definitely petty.” Penelope nodded, a playful smile on her face. “But— If anyone has a right to be petty, it’s you.. You’re handing this better than I would. i’d want to egg his house.” She shrugged, the words made a string of laughter leave your lips.

“I really really do want to” You said honestly, “maybe then he would have to say something” It was silly, but it would lie to say the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. It was childish, and immature and so petty, but leaving someone with no explanation was also just as childish and immature so in your head, it evened out.

“I reckon he would start crying” Penelope giggled.

“God I hope so.” you huffed out, running your hands through your hair before a small smile made way onto your lips as you looked up at the blonde women. The last thing you expected was to get along so quickly with the girl. You had expected it to be awkward between the two of you, but it wasn’t. You two spent hours watching silly chick-flics and laughing, before this conversation even started.

“Thank you- by the way. For this” you mumbled, referring to her just being there. She didn’t have to. She didn’t know you, she didn’t owe you anything, she was Spencer’s friend, not yours.

Penelope grinned widely, “Don’t thank me. I love boy genius but he can be such a tool sometimes without even realising it. He fucked up and you need somebody, plus who else would make sugar cookies with me?” She teased.

You curled up by Penelope’s side, smiling at her gently. You really were grateful. “Speaking of sugar cookies, do you think we could frost them yet?”

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absxntmxnded · 3 days ago

Text

LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

—————————————————————————

origins!logan x reader

warnings: fluff, no use of y/n

Had this thought in my head and I read a shit ton of Logan blurbs and fics but I’ve never posted anything I’ve randomly written and I’m deffo nervous but fuck it I guess

—————————————————————————

You woke up to it snowing, just like the weatherman predicted. You needed to go into town to get groceries and other necessities, and having put it off all week proved to be a poor decision.

You reluctantly slid out of bed, from the safe, warm, space, and wrapped yourself in your cardigan before padding downstairs to the kitchen. As you filled your coffee pot with water you peered out the window to get a gist of just how bad it was snowing.

It was coming down, but not too hard and the visibility was still good. The tall pine trees that lined the edge of your property swayed with the tender swirls of snow. The sun was unsettlingly bright against the whiteness of the snow, blinding you from looking out for too long.

You poured a cup of coffee and settled at the dining room table, seated perfectly to watch the snow fall and the wildlife wake up with the sun. This life was not perfect by any means, but you knew why Logan chose to home you both out here. It was for comfort, safety, and peace knowing not many would trek through the unknown to find you.

After finishing your coffee, you made your way to the front door, slipping on your winter gear. Tall, thick boots now adorned your feet, and a fur-lined parka wrapping the last remnants of heat from your bed against you. You knew if you wanted to make it to town you would have to shovel the driveway now and leave soon before the weather got worse. With that, with your now gloved hands, you opened the front door and invited the bitter cold in. The wind whipped you in the face and it stung hard, but nothing you weren’t already used to.

You grabbed the shovel and started a path from the steps of the front deck to the truck. From there, you went up and down the driveway in straight lines, careful not to slip. You were so focused on the task at hand you could barely hear Logan calling from the front deck.

“Princess! What are you doing?” Logan calls. You turn around to see your boyfriend standing there, head cocked, arms across his chest with that ever present scowl across his face. You knew he wasn’t seriously upset with you but you never enjoyed seeing him upset. “Give me the shovel, you go inside and get warmed up.” Logan says while coming down the path you made.

You pulled the shovel out of his reach. “Not a chance Logan, I’m almost done, I can handle it.” You said, matching his stern tone.

“I don’t care if you can handle it, I will finish, now go.” He said, pointing at the house. You weren’t going to give in that easily.

“Logan, I am perfectly capable of shoveling the driveway! I used to do it when I lived with my parents, seriously I’m fine.” You appreciated Logan’s kindness to help you with everything, but sometimes you just really wanted to show him how independent you were.

Logan places his hands on your shoulders. dusting the snow off. “Darlin, I know you’re capable of shoveling the driveway. You’re capable of a lot of things, but you live with me now. I’m taking care of you now, so I do this, okay?” You felt your heart swell and you couldn’t even think of where to begin what to say. Your whole life, you were the person everyone else relied on. The feeling of gratitude and love filled your chest and soon your eyes. You stammered, not even knowing how to respond to Logan.

He didn’t even give you a chance to answer before he picked you up and slung you over his shoulders like you weighed nothing. “Logan!” you screeched, “Put me down!” You were giggling and smacking Logan’s back, but that was hardly a deterrent to him. He effortlessly carried you back into the house, placing you by the wood stove to heat you quicker. Carefully, he undressed your winter gear and clothes, laying them on the back of the couch to dry. You allowed him this moment in caring for you, because you knew deep down this was mending broken pieces of him, slowly but surely.

Before you knew it, you were down to your undies and bra, being hoisted over Logan’s shoulder again, this time being taken upstairs. “Logan! I can walk!”

“I know darlin.”

Logan set you down gently on the bed and turned to rummage through his drawers. He turned back around holding sweatpants and a sweatshirt, which were clearly his. A toothy grinned crossed his face as he walked to you. He first put the sweatpants on you, sliding them over each foot and up to your hips. Then he carefully pulled the oversized hoodie over you. Last, to finish off your look, he brought out the warmest cabin socks he could find, carefully slipping those on as well. He stepped back and gave a once over of his job. You couldn’t help but break out into laughter.

“Whats’o funny?” He scrunched his nose and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Nothing Logan, you’re just going overboard, I’m fine, was hardly cold and I could’ve fini-.” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as Logan cut you off with a sweet kiss.

“Like I said before, you live here now. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, so let me. You don’t need to do everything anymore. I love you.” Logan held your hands and kissed your forehead before laying you down and pulling the covers over you. “Now you lay here and warm up. I’ll finish the driveway, and cook breakfast. Then we can head to town. Okay darlin?” Logan’s hazel eyes were surrounded by those crinkles you absolutely adored, and a bright smile only reserved for you.

You nodded. “Okay, Lo…” you smiled up at him, taking in his gentle features and soaking in the love and display of affection Logan was giving you. Logan leaned down and pressed a longer kiss to your forehead before pushing some hair to the side of your face. “I love you sweetheart.” He said as he moved to the door, glancing back one more time to flash a grin before disappearing down the hallway.

You weren’t used to the one being waited on and getting to relax, but living with someone like Logan made it easy.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fluff #origins logan howlett #absxntmxnded blurbs #oh im so sorry if this is bad #xmen origins wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #xmen #logan x reader

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leighsartworks216 · 1 year ago

Note

Hellooooo i have a request for Astarion that like

I’m dying to see:

Gn! Druid Tav that had small petty fight with Astarion, Astarion being his stubborn self didn’t apologize ~properly~ or acknowledge he was wrong, tries to pretend the fight didnt happen and chat with Tav, Tav shapeshifts into a cat to avoid talking to him and fights sass with sass and Astarion melts at Tav being adorable😭?

I finished writing this and then was like,, I forgot it's not normal for partners to like scold each other by pinching them and stuff?? My ex used to do shit like that so I just forgot that wasn't normal. So I'm just going to clarify that in this story it's not malicious or anything like that. If it makes you uncomfortable tho I am 100% willing to rewrite it so that's not there at all

Warnings: swearing, scratching

Word Count: 759

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Astarion sits beside you as though it’s just any other day. He’s got that damn suave smirk on his face - you can just feel it radiating off of him without even needing to see. You try not to visibly bristle and turn your head further away from him. It was best to just wait it out and maybe he’d finally suck up his damn pride long enough to apologize. Maybe.

“So, darling,” he makes sure to really emphasize the word, drawing it out sweetly, “in the interest of keeping myself in peak fighting form, I’m inclined to ask if you would be ever so kind as to let me dine with - or rather - on you tonight.”

You huff a dry laugh. Sharp, short, but lacking genuine amusement. You don’t say anything. Instead, you focus on patching up one of your shirts.

He leans close to you, hovering just over your shoulder. His chest just barely grazes your arm and his breath ghosts across your ear and neck. Was this bastard really trying to seduce you? At a time like this? “Please, dear heart? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You glance over your shoulder, to make sure he can see the dead-pan look on your face. “No.” You pull the thread taught. Admittedly, you tug a little more than necessary, bunching up the fabric. Astarion definitely notices. He always does.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset about earlier?” he chides.

You turn to face your back fully to him, forcing him to move back. You smooth out the bunches of fabric and roughly, messily, continue the next few stitches. He sighs dramatically.

“Come on, love, that was hours ago! All I said was your stitches aren’t even!”

You scoffed and angrily wrinkled your shirt in your lap as you whirled around to face him. “You said my stitches weren’t even and that they were ugly! I have been fixing my clothes my whole life - this is the most efficient stitch to ensure it doesn’t unravel!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave a mile between stitches!”

Fuck this. If he doesn’t want to apologize, the least you can do is give him a taste of his own catty fighting style.

One moment, you’re a perfectly humanoid being. The next, you’ve shrunken to less than a foot off the ground. Your back arches, your tail fluffs and sticks straight up, and you bare pointed canines at him as a scratchy hissing comes from your throat. Astarion can hardly feel threatened by a feline.

“Now you’re just being childish,�� he scoffs. You jump forward to dig your claws into his leg. “Ow! Hey, that’s not fair!”

He grabs you by your middle and lifts you up. Your claws are removed from his skin, but they continue to pull on his pants.

“You’re going to rip my pants!”

You squirm from his hold, releasing his pants in the process, and land back on the ground. You sit next to your abandoned, half-fixed shirt, back turned to the vampire once more. Your tail flicks side to side in irritation.

Astarion rubs his leg and checks that there’s no lasting damage. There isn’t, of course. Even your claws were mere pinpricks compared to what damage you could do with them, and you’d never willingly destroy his belongings, no matter how pissed at him you were. And even though you are pissed at him, he still can’t help but admire you.

You’re upset, but you’re not physically assaulting him until he apologizes. You pinch him, give him a little scratch - sure. But that pain fades, at most leaving a small mark that fades in a day. You’re so utterly, bafflingly kind to him. Even when he’s being a dick.

He reaches out and scratches just behind your ear. Your ear twitches, but otherwise you show no reaction to his touch. He sighs. “I’m sorry for insulting your handiwork, my dear. You know your work better than anyone, and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Your tail continues flicking back and forth a moment longer. But then you relent. You turn around and press your cheek into his hand, which he gladly glides along your soft fur. He’d asked once what it felt like to be pet like this. You’d said it was like a massage; like someone was scratching an itch you just couldn’t reach.

You step into his lap and plop right down, rubbing yourself into his abdomen with loud purrs. He chuckles. “Oh you sweet thing,” he coos. “What have I done to deserve you?”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog

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pumpk1n-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. stalking, in-depth descriptions of how the reader would murder someone, Billy uses “princess”, reader is a bit insane}

Part Two | Word Count ~ 720 (sorry, this one’s pretty short. The next few parts will be longer — this is more of an intro than an actual part and I was rushing to finish it)

The media you consume is your own responsibility and I will not be held accountable for your choices. I’m not going to block minors from this account, but proceed with caution anyway.

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid

It was a normal Friday night for you, some old black and white horror movie on, parents gone, and homework lying forgotten about on the kitchen counter.

The phone behind you rang and you groaned, leaving it for a few moments before getting up to answer. “Who’s this?”

Somebody on the other end — clearly using a voice changer — began speaking. “Do you like scary movies?”

“Eh. I enjoy them but the suspension of disbelief needed for most of them is too much.”

“Oh? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, for one, the way that the killers in a lot of them actually do it is disappointing. They hardly toy with their victims and just straight up kill them. There’s hardly any fear, it’s just a single moment of blood and gore before it’s over.”

Billy grinned underneath his Ghostface mask. “You’re an interesting girl, what’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know that right now. What’s your favorite color?”

Without thinking Billy answered. “Red.”

“Like blood?”

“Sure, princess. Like blood.”

“Princess?”

Billy smirked again. “Well if you’re not going to tell me your name I have to find something to call you. You got a boyfriend?”

“Oh god no. They’re all toxic little shits that don’t know how to act. Besides, it’s too messy to clean up their blood.”

A beat of silence then; “For legal reasons, that was a joke.”

And all of a sudden, you were a much more fascinating person than Billy had ever imagined you would be to him. He wanted to know everything about you, all your strange little habits and personality traits that made you the way you are, your daily schedule, what your blood looked like spilled over his blade and hands.

“Hello?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’m still here. And I have more questions for you.”

“Well I’m getting kind of sleepy so hurry it up.”

Billy smiled to himself, using his binoculars to glance around your room. You sat up on your bed, playing with something he couldn’t see. You also — he noticed, blood pooling southward — were only wearing an oversized t-shirt.

“What would you do differently as the killer in those movies?” That wasn’t the question you’d expected. Maybe your favorite band or your least favorite food. Maybe your name again. But not how you would commit murder.

You thought for a moment, humming under your breath. “For one thing, I wouldn’t make it so obvious it was me. In a lot of those movies the audience is guessing who it is in the first five minutes. That wouldn’t be me. I’m pretty outgoing and bubbly around my friends anyway, so I wouldn’t really be a suspect. Plus, my friends say I’m wicked smart but no one can tell when they first meet me.”

Billy nodded to himself. That much was true. He would never have expected you, one of his classmates who sits next to him in English, to go so in depth on how not to get caught murdering people.

You kept going. “So I would play that up. Cry at any mention of my dead classmates, but not too much or it’ll get suspicious. I’d keep up the facade of ‘perfect student’ and act disgusted when anyone brings up how I killed them. That alone would help.”

Billy laughed. “You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot.” But secretly he was taking notes.

“Sorry, I get really bored sometimes, and this is just what my mind strays to.”

Really? This is what your sick, twisted mind thought up in your free time? He wondered how many times he’d glanced over at you in English and you were plotting his death, spaced out with a happy smile on your face.

“Keep going, princess.”

“Well that’s just how I wouldn’t get caught. The actual murders themselves I would make as grisly and gory as I could think of so people would think a sweet, innocent, ‘perfect’ girl could never commit them. I would maybe draw satanic symbols on the wall in their blood or something to throw off police. I would only kill crackheads or past criminals so that the police wouldn’t really care very much to solve it. And I would only kill weeks apart so that they don’t feel immediately threatened.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy was mostly thinking to himself, but still. He was impressed.

He also thought he might be falling in love with you a little bit.

#poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface smut #angst #billy loomis #fluff #scream #scream 1996 #smut #series #fic #scream 1996 smut #billy loomis scream #stu matcher x reader #stu macher

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vidavalor · 14 days ago

Note

I've had to disconnect from my dash because of all the negativity; I honestly do not get why people are acting like a semblance of justice+a movie is the worst thing in the world?

I'm mourning for the full six-episode season we lost because ng couldn't pass the utmost basic sub-zero bar for not acting like scum and of course I wish amazon had kicked him out and then sprung for it anyway (and honestly, as long as you're blaming the right person, I think it's fine to feel upset? We deserved better, the cast and crew deserved, Terry deserved better, and this one guy ruins it for everyone because the bar was buried six feet deep beneath the ground and he still managed to go lower, and that does suck, and it is miserable and unfair, so take a moment if you need it 🤷‍♀️) but let's face it, we got off lucky. Arguably, considering this was a standalone novel from the nineties, that then got made, in one of the best book adaptations I've ever seen, into a limited standalone tv miniseries (and, again, emphasising the standalone here, so even if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, we'll still always have S1 and the book; people have been ignoring the Jurassic Park sequels for nearly three decades), and then got a surprise sequel, we were pretty lucky the whole way through.

And regarding the whole what if it's bad thing, I was always going to be worried: I was anxious long before this shit went down, and I was anxious before S2 and even S1, as well. It's not like we ever had any guarantee it was going to be good beforehand either, and at this point, knowing what we do now, I'm not at all sure I'd have trusted ng to write this anyways. So while, yeah sure, I'm maybe a little more anxious now, I trust Michael and David with these characters and I trust Rob and Rhianna with Terry's legacy and story and that they wouldn't have fought so hard for this ending unless they planned to keep fighting and thought they could pull it off. Isn't the problem with this kind of thing normally that what happnes is the creator who cares deeply about the work gets pulled in favour of someone out-of-touch who cares not a jot about the story and needs to leave their own grubby fingerprints all over it? More the other way around here, no?

Anyway, what I also wanted to say was that I really appreciated your 'think of it as the final two episodes of season two' (and all your takes on this situation so far, very level-headed and optimistic, thank you). I mean, you're right, and it's hardly wildly out-there for a series to finish on a feature-length special, and although the filler material in S2 and the compression of S3 maybe means it doesn't exactly resemble what the second book would have been, it was only ever meant to be two books. (Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed S2 and was very glad to get it, even though I am a book/S1 fan and also had the most fun in that time fandom pre/post/around the time of the S1 release, but why does it exist? Ego? You can't tell me you couldn't have fit the important parts of S2 into one season with the S3 plotline.)

Basically, I'm grieving the could-have-beens (imagine if he'd been exposed way earlier and the TP estate had had control of this whole production from the very start!) and I'm a little worried that that hurt'll stick around no matter how good S3 is - which I need to fix, because that's more power over my favourite show and what it means to me that I want to give anyone, let alone someone like that - but at the end of day, I do think it definitely can be done with what we have, and I'm choosing to be hopeful it'll be done well, because, well, why wouldn't I?

(I will say this hasn't been great for my faith in humanity, because I really want to believe not all men are shit and some of them are making it very difficult right now, but that's an entirely different problem and so far believing most people are mostly good has always prevailed in the end so. y'know. we'll get there. might reread discworld, that's always good for that.)

Sorry for venting all this at you! I just kinda felt the need to write it all down once to get it off my chest... have a snack on me? I'm partial to cherry tomatoes, green melon and mandarines at the moment (I stop eating salads in winter, which means I default to eating even more fruit) but I can also offer homemade baked goodies fresh from this morning? 🥧

Hi there. 💕 You are welcome to vent away & thank you for the delicious-sounding snacks and kind words. I'm glad my posts on the movie boosted your spirits about it. I agree with and can relate to almost everything that you said here so assume that anything that I don't address just has a 'yes, absolutely' nod happening. 🙂‍↕️

The one thing I want to touch on here is S2 and this idea of it being "filler" that you mentioned that I think might not be quite accurate. I think you (and anyone else who reads this) might feel more enthused about the idea of a good ending in 90 minutes after reading this so hopefully this'll be another way that I can help?

On why S2 is really the whole story and actually had a lot more going on in every way than S1...

Ok, I'm going to explain something that drives writers like myself bonkers 😂 and that is how some readers or viewers of fictional stories mix up plot and story.

Nothing grinds our gears than reading things like "filler" and "unnecessary subplots" because, while everyone is within their rights to have an opinion on written works, 95% of the time, the person who says phrases like this isn't talking about the quality of the work but of its very existence. They're saying "why did we have to read/watch this? it didn't connect to anything" and that's where they are very, very, very... argh, just tell them, Crowley...

...thank you, dear. Right, so, why is it wrong?

Because what many people who don't write don't understand about subplots and more character-driven story arcs is that the writers sat down and decided to do that stuff for very, very specific story reasons. Readers and viewers mistake plot for story. Plot only exists in service of story and, so, all plots exist for a purpose in the story. They're all relevant. In fact, the stuff people usually label as "filler" in a story is really exactly where they should be looking to figure out what the story is saying. If you're big mad about all this time you spent with Maggie and Nina in S2, I'd say you might not still understand what S2 was about because you won't understand Aziraphale's story without understanding both Maggie and Nina's struggles in S2, for example.

A story is the whole, overall thing. It's the meanings, themes, and messages in the work. It's what's being said. It's the ideas being put forth by the piece. It's what it's about. It's different from plot, which is just the stuff the writers are making the characters do or not do in order to tell the story that they are looking to tell. Story is the art; plot is a tool used to make that art. Fiction writers can come at their story from almost anywhere to convey what it is that they are trying to say so there is meaning in the fact that they are choosing to tell their stories the way that they are telling them. They came up with these ideas for reasons.

When you dismiss stuff as filler, you're saying that it's lesser than more in-your-face and bigger plots (when, often, it's very much not), and you're telling a writer how they should have written their own story-- most of the time, without even fully seeing the ending of that story or giving any consideration to why it is that the writer wanted you to read or watch the stuff you're saying wasn't necessary. I'm not arguing that every story is perfect but you aren't getting anywhere near close to being able to evaluate a story if you're not willing to dive into what you were given and consider why it was that you were given those things and what they might mean.

Until the main question that you're asking about every single aspect of a story is "what is this saying?", you're not really fully engaging with a work. You won't get there by dismissing what the artists are telling you is important.

The secret sauce to interpreting fiction are subplots, actually. They exist to help highlight the themes of the main story, often in a slightly more direct way. If you want to understand Good Omens, starting with Ineffable Bureaucracy is actually one of the best ways to get at the core of the themes of the story. It's far from wasted time in the story.

There's actually a funny nod to the importance of subplots in 1941 when Aziraphale references Sophocles, the playwright who basically created the concept of the supporting character whose story mirrors and parallels the main character(s). The mention of Sophocles shows up in S2, the season that brings Gabriel more fully into his purpose as exactly that.

The reason why S2's plot is centered around the honestly pretty easily solvable mystery as to what's happened to Gabriel is because Gabriel, from the get-go, has been the entire story distilled down.

If you follow nothing but Ineffable Bureaucracy in Good Omens, you're going to be closer to getting what it's about and where it's going and what its end game is than you are if you are dismissing it as wasted time when we only have few episodes left. If you haven't yet seen the secret wisdom in Jim-- not to mention understand that Jim and Gabriel are the same person-- then you're probably wigging out more about the movie.

You likely think that S2 was wasted on stuff like Gabriel, or Maggie and Nina's romance, when they should have been getting to Armageddon and The Second Coming already!

You haven't yet noticed that Armageddon has more than one meaning in the series.

It's not always the literal destruction of Earth but also a person's own life crisis. We are all worlds of our own and those worlds can be put at risk if we don't let others in and take care of ourselves and those around us.

When you realize this, you can start to see that S1 goes hard with a freight train of plot all over the place that is related to Armageddon in a more Biblical, apocalyptic sense while it establishes its universe for us but that, once we know how it all works, we can get something like S2... a time where we can step back and start using Armageddon in the more figurative way that the story is also presenting it.

We need to because the story isn't about Heaven or Hell-- it's about being a person. S2 is emphasizing the deeper aspects of the themes and rolling that out at a pace more in line with a person having a few days of inner crisis. When you see that Aziraphale's crisis is the point then you can see how S1 can be about The Four Horsepeople riding to the end of the world and S2 can show War (inner conflict), Pollution (mental health issues), and Famine (symptoms of the other two; lack of food and pleasure and connection; self-starvation and self-denial) as a mental health crisis.

The point is that if you're thinking these characters need to come together to overthrow Heaven and Hell and get to the South Downs Cottage and there's no time slajdflkfwjlkejlje!?!?, then you aren't realizing that not every revolution involves guns and bombs.

People all over the world can start a love train that's far more effective. You might think a subplot about The Hellhound and The Ginger Cat learning to play nice and that they have a fuckton in common and should maybe bury the hatchet and just become eternal bffs already is filler but Crowley and Gabriel aligning is set up for the end game. It's strength in numbers and finding peace and family. They can't overthrow Heaven/Hell without help and Gabriel is the Supreme Archangel. They literally will never have a South Downs Cottage ending without a plot that helped Crowley and Aziraphale see that Gabriel and Beez are on their side.

This is the revolution in Good Omens:

It will take all the characters coming together to overthrow Heaven/Hell and set up something new for us to get a happy ending and we absolutely will. S2 is Gabriel-centric because Gabriel is the key to all of the characters getting a peaceful ending and because he's a split-directly-down-the-middle mirror of both Crowley and Aziraphale. In a season that is more about Aziraphale's inner Armageddon than about an external threat, Gabriel is vital to telling that story. The plot of S2 is every bit as important to the story as S1. I'd argue that it's even more important because takes the time to go at the themes in a slower, deeper way. It needs to because it's a story of a fall that sets up for a story in S3 of a recovery from one.

Good Omens is the absolute perfect combination of a show that is both very, very detail-oriented and full of depth while also being, secretly, an incredibly simple story. I do not mean simple in a negative way but in a chef's kiss sort of way. Simple in a tight and elegant sort of way. This is something that I think some people might not see when they're theorizing but it's something to keep in mind ahead of the movie. Not just because the movie is shorter-- this would have been relevant if we were having a longer S3, too.

Good Omens has a very engaged fan base that looks for the details, yes. *raises hand* I'm one of them lol. And there will be plenty to pour over in the movie, but... the big thing to keep in mind is that your theory needs to be something that is simple, that can be explained in under a handful of scenes, tops, and that is focused on where Aziraphale's story arc is going above anything and everything else.

If you're beginning with time loops and the birth of a new antichrist baby, I'm telling you from ages of experience reading and writing stories, you're going to be way off. If you are over here composing theories of the story that you are arguing are correct and this theory involves, idk... *makes something up* Crowley is really Elvis and Elvis is really The Bentley and when a rainbow hits Whickber Street at exactly 4 minutes into the new season, Satan will be revealed to really be Jesus, I think maybe you might be missing the point of the details that the show has given already. Like the plot, these details exist to reinforce the themes of the story. Story beats everything else-- it's what this is all about.

And what Good Omens is about? Is best summed up by Michael Sheen, in this single sentence that I really, really agree with and have paraphrased more than once in posts:

Good Omens is about the business of living. It's about the human experience, which is the experience of being a person. Everything related to Heaven and Hell and good and evil and Armageddon and supernatural things is plot that only exists to highlight a story about the complexities of being a person.

The supernatural is human and the human is supernatural.

That is what Good Omens is about.

While Crowley and Aziraphale are built as two halves of a whole and are both main characters, Aziraphale is the main character from a technical, story perspective, because he is the character whose story arc is driving both the plot and story forward. He's heading for a happy ending with Crowley in the South Downs by the end of the film. If you're making theories, start with what kind of plot would truly get him there and still fit with all of the themes of the story.

This 'it's about being a person' business is why if you look at S2 as filler and not as a season that is exploring the continuing themes on a deeper level, you're still worried about things like there being no time in a movie to show the story of a new antichrist kid being born or how they're going to fit the whole Second Coming into the movie. You don't yet see that Aziraphale parallels Adam and that being an antichrist is basically just being a person and that Aziraphale is presently the antichrist in the story. There is no antichrist child yet to be born. They won't be cutting it because it's not the story.

Armageddon since S2 has been Aziraphale's own personal one and the story from the end of S2 on is now how, if all the other characters can't come together to help him, it could also trigger Armageddon of the S1, Earth-destroying kind. It's tying a more literal Armageddon into a more figurative one. Because this story is about being a person so Armageddon is just metaphorical for going through a mental health crisis and shutting people out.

This story's themes include that every person matters and we all have to let others in and look out for one another. That there's strength in numbers. That found family and adopted family is as much family as biological family-- often, even more so. That labelling and categorizing people is bullshit and you should always open the cover and read the first sentences of people and help people whose stories begin with the same letters find one another. That it might be surprising who has things in common. It's about all of Heaven and Hell versus all of humanity, in the sense that ideas of being a perfect angel or being seen as an evil demon are concepts felt by human beings that get in the way of peace and healthy, happy living, but that fighting them is a common, human struggle, regardless of from where you come.

If you are too focused on the religious plot being the center of the film, you haven't yet seen the meaning of why the end of S1 was an eleven year old kid saving the world by telling off the bio-dad that was never there for him. You might be one of the people who thought this a silly, anti-climatic ending to that story, and don't yet realize that this is the entire story in a nutshell.

Adam can only reject Satan and keep the darkness at bay because he is surrounded-- here, literally-- by a family that supports him. He has good people for parents and was lucky enough to grow up with resources that all kids in this world should have. He has an absolutely terrific group of friends. He has this witch lady and her boyfriend and these two gay uncles that just showed up out of nowhere 😂 and his human incarnate self has what it needs to make it through this crisis, in this moment, even if he'll probably have others throughout his life, just like all of us. He's not evil incarnate and he doesn't have to be perfect-- he's just a person.

Aziraphale tells Adam this but struggles to see himself in the same way. That's what S2 is about.

S2 is about that other kid who, like Adam, breaks the season down into a single line of dialogue, David Tennant's apparent favorite from the season:

Jemimah knows who she is and she is happy to claim ownership over her art and contributions to the world. She's living her life with excitement and enthusiasm in a way that gets more complicated as we become traumatized adults. Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this. They have been making a life together on Earth for thousands of years and each struggle, in their own ways, to truly accept that they are people who are allowed to have a life because they struggle to accept that they are people, just like everyone else.

Their story is about getting to a better place with that. That's really all Good Omens fundamentally is. That's why their ending is going to be to go live in a little cottage together that isn't a business that covers up an angelic embassy that covers up a secret love den. It's just their house-- theirs together for the life they're going to live openly together.

If you want some peace with the film, I'd advise throwing over your theories about The Second Coming and Armageddon needing to happen and antichrist kids and how Jesus fits into everything. Jesus in Good Omens is Crowley romancing Aziraphale at the crucifixion and Aziraphale using what Jesus said to Crowley to reject temptation as invitation to fuck him. I thought Jesus in a single scene or less was the most likely thing for S3 and the same holds for the movie. It's not the story. The only time The Second Coming is mentioned in S2 is by the villain and, to get there, Earth would have to first be destroyed. It won't be.

If the story is about being a messy human walking the Earth and we're in the end game now, then the story is about Aziraphale and only Aziraphale. Everything-- everything-- will be in service of Aziraphale's story arc. We already had just a few episodes with S3 and we now have even less time but the way this is going is still the same. The story is Aziraphale's fall and the other characters coming together to challenge Heaven to keep Aziraphale from eternity in Hell. That's how Armageddon is stopped this time around-- overthrowing Heaven with Aziraphale's fate as the motivation to take on The Metatron. It's nothing to do with Jesus. It's everything to do with Aziraphale.

When you see that, you can see how feasible that is in 90 minutes, with plenty of time for things like 1941, Part 3 and other flashbacks.

I think, when all is said and done, you might wind up appreciating S2 more after the film but you can get there already if you start looking at it less as meaningless fluff and start asking why it is that we were shown this story, in this way, and what that can tell us about the story we're watching.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens finale #ineffable bureaucracy #the archangel fucking gabriel

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daycourtofficial · 9 months ago

Text

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 7

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: eeeek I’ve had parts of this one in the drafts for AGES the middle section has been drafted for at least a month I swear and I’ve been sitting on it like 🧍‍♀️ waiting to share it. I think this is my favorite part so far (but not my fav overall 🥰)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Masterlist)

Your day had been shit. Ever since that godsawful date Mor ambushed you with last night, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering about Azriel and Nesta’s date. What they were doing, how things were going, if she was making him laugh.

Hell, you couldn’t stop thinking about their date while on your own date. The guy was good looking, and he wasn’t terrible, but there was nothing there between you two.

He also was very into cryptocurrency, a topic that quickly took over the conversation at dinner. A topic you did not encourage him to continue on. He somehow didn’t get that memo, insisting on walking you up towards the doors of your building when he was dropping you off, where you had made a lame excuse about going to bed early before ducking into your building.

You had followed the same path Azriel took only moments ago, continuing on to your own apartment. You open the door, finding a note on the fridge in Cassian’s messy scrawl.

Have fun.

He drew a winky face, and then several crude drawings on the post-it. The drawings made you groan, Cassian’s enthusiasm for your date further solidifying your nonexistent chance with his brother.

Of course Cassian would have Mor set you up after he found out about your little crush on his brother. You felt so stupid when you saw Nesta on their couch earlier today. You hardly spoke to Rhysand on the way to lab, your thoughts too flooded with how terribly you had read the whole situation.

Cassian probably told Mor all about your dumb crush and got her to fix you up tonight. Maybe Azriel had even mentioned your text to Cassian, asking him what to do about the annoying roommate who developed a crush on his brother.

Your chest hurts, but it was just a silly crush. You’ll get over it.

Eventually.

Azriel stood in the elevator, waiting for the doors to close as he looked at his phone, looking at the last message you had sent him Friday morning.

Wanna grab lunch tomorrow?

He hadn’t answered, his phone having been on silent all day to focus on finishing his work for the next week and the reception in the library not allowing messages to come through. He hadn’t seen the message until he woke up this morning, the timestamp seeming cruel.

Now he stares at it and wants to throw his phone. Missed opportunities, he supposes. But what would this lunch have looked like since you’re dating that dickhead from last night? Would you have had to reject him outright?

He can see your face contort in a smile as you tell him, “oh no, Az, I’m seeing someone.” Then you’d probably laugh about it with the dickhead.

He runs his hands down his face when he hears someone yelling, ��hold the elevator please!” He juts out an arm on instinct, not noticing who it is. He sees you slip inside, the doors bumping against his arm, bringing him back to reality as he looks down at you.

Fuck.

A light scent of oranges fills the elevator, and he notes it’s likely from your shampoo. He pulls his arm from the door, allowing them to close, locking the two of you in the metal box.

You look up at him, eyes going wide, cheeks heating in embarrassment at the close proximity. You’re standing right in front of him, and you can smell his cologne, a scent of night-chilled air and cedar filling your nose. You take deep breaths, telling yourself that it’s okay, it was just a little crush.

On a very pretty, smart, and very kind guy.

Who smelled incredible.

You look down at your feet, unsure how to speak to him now that you knew he was dating Nesta. And not wanting to further embarrass yourself by flirting with him.

Gods, this was how you were going to die, you think, shuffling to lean against the rail. Azriel’s voice puts a halt to the spiraling of your thoughts.

“Nice date last night?” Azriel asks, trying not to let whatever he’s feeling bubble up. Your eyebrows shoot up, unaware of Azriel even knowing about your date.

Of course he knows, you think, Cassian probably told him he’d handle it.

“He spent the while night telling me about stocks and crypto and how he wants to be in Forbes 30 under 30,” you scoffed, “so no, it was not nice.”

The elevator starts moving, and his eyebrows shoot up. “So that wasn’t your boyfriend?”

You scoff, “hell no. Mor ambushed me yesterday. She told me to get dressed up and we’d go out and have a fun girl’s night, but when I showed up she texted me that she set me up instead.

“The worst part is Mor was so confident that she told Cassian about it, so he had stayed at her place last night to give me ‘privacy’. He even left crude drawings around the apartment to help the ‘atmosphere’.”

Azriel laughs as the elevator dings for the third floor. He feels his chest lighten, knowing you definitely weren’t seeing anyone. “Mor’s always been ambitious, hasn’t she?”

You laugh. “Maybe it was just a ploy for her to have sex with Cassian.”

You say it, but you know it’s not true. The real truth was they wanted to put you out there, help you get over the beautiful man standing next to you. They knew you didn’t have a shot, especially compared to Nesta. You’re brought back to reality, and decide to hurt yourself further.

“How was your date with Nesta?” You ground out, after a pause in your conversation. You needed to know so you can completely cut off your feelings for him. You needed him to pierce you with the final dagger.

His eyebrows arch up, and he looks at your expression.

Were you upset? You won’t meet his gaze, and you’re clenching your fists. Were you - jealous?

His mouth curls up at the thought, “uh it wasn’t a date. Nesta and I study together every Thursday night. We take a lot of the same classes. We did it last night instead because she was busy on Thursday.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, “so you’re not dating Nesta?”

He laughs, “absolutely not. No that’s an avenue I’d never go down. But there is some-“

His words die as you hear a screeching sound and the elevator stops completely, leaving you two stranded somewhere between the first and second floors.

“No - no, no, no.”

You start freaking out - elevators always gave you a bit of concern, their small dimensions making you feel cramped. You hit the button to open the door, jamming it with your finger. Realizing that it was fruitless, You pull out your phone only to remember that the elevator always has no service.

“Fuck,” you mumble, and your breaths start coming faster and faster, and you’re trying to remember your calming techniques, when you feel cold hands gently grab your cheeks.

“Hey, look at me.”

You look up, finding hazel eyes looking back at you. They’re etched with concern, not a trace of mockery in them.

“We’re okay. Breathe with me, can you do that?”

He grabs one of your hands, placing it on his chest so you can feel his breaths as they come in and out. Your eyes stay trained on his, not wanting to look away, wanting to get lost in the gold flecks you find there.

You start following the rhythm of his breaths, but he keeps talking to you in a soothing tone. You’re too focused on breathing to register what he’s saying, but you do register the soothing tone he’s speaking to you in. You could get lost in his voice, its deep timbre a melody in your ears.

Eventually you come back down enough to focus on what he’s saying and he’s telling you about his night - everything he did yesterday.

“Rhys texted me to get some trash bags on my way in, which is where I was coming from when I pulled up and found you with crypto douche.”

You smile, your first real reaction to his words since the elevator stopped.

“There she is,” he says, his finger tapping your cheek, “wanna tell me more about crypto douche?”

“He wants to be a landlord.”

Azriel snorts, “of course he does.”

“I didn’t even want to go on this date,” your eyes stay locked with his, the golden flecks calming you down. “But Mor has been begging me to go out with this guy for ages, and then she finally decided to ambush me by forcing it on me.”

“You know you can tell Mor “no”. It’s a complete sentence.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but she loves playing matchmaker, even though she’s awful at it. Usually once every other month I let her set me up, but she was just throwing a tantrum I wouldn’t let her set me up this time once I figured out the rouse.”

He doesn’t let himself linger on the fact that you haven’t let her set you up since meeting him. Coincidence, maybe. “Have any of them been successful?”

You blow out a breath, “uh, no. Usually I stay for an hour then leave. None of them have ever gotten a second date.” You pause, thinking. “In the words of the great philosopher of our time, “I’m a pathological people pleaser,” you chuckle.

“And who said that?”

“…. Taylor Swift.”

He looks at you, a chuckle on his breath, such tenderness in his gaze it shocks you a bit. “You should stand up for yourself more.”

“I’m… not really sure how. It’s kind of new to me.”

You look at your feet, but he taps your chin so you’ll look at him again. “I stood up to my parents, and it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

You had tiptoed around the topic since your admission to Cassian the day you moved in, the wound still too raw to discuss with anyone other than Feyre. Mor knew some of the details, but not the whole story. You’re sure Rhys and Az knew that something happened with your parents, but you never let them know too much about it.

They didn’t know that your parents had told you that you became everything they had tried to avoid. That, despite everything they did for you, you didn’t turn out right.

You hadn’t told Mor because you knew she would have burnt down their house with them in it.

“It was scary, moving here with a guy I hardly knew.” His grip on you tightens slightly, and he’s hanging onto every word you say.

“But I don’t regret it. Not even when Cassian wakes me up at 6 AM with his singing.”

He chuckles, and he stills as you look into his eyes, your voice clear and strong.

“I don’t… I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret meeting you.”

His hands are still cupped on your face, his face mere inches from your own. Your confession hangs in the air as you two look at each other, and he leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours.

Your breathing hitches, but not because you’re stuck.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the elevator comes back to life, moving downwards again. It startles both of you into jumping away from each other, and you clear your throat.

“Where are- where are you going?” You ask, gesturing towards his helmet.

“Oh, uh Cassian forgot his lunch and doesn’t have time to grab anything between clients. I was going to bring him something.”

The air is lighter between you two, and Azriel feels like he can breathe you in again. The fog of confusion has lifted between you two, leaving you to be seen clearly by him.

“Do you want to get lunch?”

He echos your previous text message to him, and you nod.

“Yeah I’d love that.”

You stroll through the lobby, putting as much distance between the falter elevator and yourselves. Once you make it to the parking lot, Azriel places his spare helmet on your head, tapping the top of it lightly affectionately.

You zip your jacket up as Azriel gets on the bike first, his thighs straddling the seat. He holds the bike steady, allowing you to place your hands on his shoulders for balance, letting go of your fears as you swing your leg around to straddle the bike behind him. Your body leans against his, wrapping around him, holding onto him.

You place your head on his back, your fingers clutching onto his jacket. It feels new, electricity crackling through every inch of you that is in contact with him, despite the layers and helmets that separate you.

He chuckles at the gasp you let out when you two start moving, how your hands hold onto his jacket a little tighter than before.

He pulls a hand away to place it gently on one of the hands you have clutched to his jacket, squeezing three times before moving his hand back.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

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