#okay they have hit bc I just laughed so hard at that thought I fell off my couch

[youvebeengalindafied]

Fiyero finally gets the use that pitch he spent 5+ years writing in his head for why Elphaba should let him join the Revolution

[chilschuck]

Chilchuck but we are his pretty wife, and we didn't abandon him this time.

Not only that, but we are also very caring and nice, and it's practically a surprise how we are with someone like Chilchuck.

I can picture him standing with a serious face and all gloomy, and then we are next to him beaming rays of sunshine (bonus if we are also blonde and a hafling)

They are literally the "sunshine x grumpy" trope

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ohhhhhhh my god. so……..i was so happy with this cute request that i kind of ran with it LOL. this is such a good concept and i can picture this so well in my brain. i wrote a domestic lil drabble that i hope is okay, as my thoughts just went insane over this. WAHHHH i hope you enjoy and that this is okay!! thank you so much for your idea, anon!! <3

— SUNSHINE: chilchuck x wife!reader.

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw and soooo fluffy. reader is also a half-foot!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 675

✦ please i need more domestic bliss with this man. he deserves to feel so loved and happy. i tried to keep this light and sweet and playful bc i think he’d be grumpy but also. give this man the love he needs and he’ll thrive please chilchuck just one chance please pleas—

“Chil?” Your voice was so soft and sweet, it’s honey-like tone melting him to his core. You had decided to surprise him with breakfast this morning, something you loved to do when you had him here with you.

If the smell didn’t rouse him, your presence certainly did. It was an understatement to say that you were his weak spot, a point within him that he tried not to dwell on too much. Especially when the sun hit you in that halo of light at just the right angle, seeping through the windows and making his eyes flutter. Waking up to you was an experience he felt he couldn’t get enough of, drunk off of your velvet words as you brushed the bangs out of his face.

“Mm?” Was his only response, leaning subconsciously into your touch with a gruff sigh. You only laughed, that twinkle in your voice causing his heart to stutter within his chest. Why must he be married to the human form of sunshine? Surely his constant grumpiness would deter you, but much to his amusement, it only made you grin.

“Do you want breakfast, love?” Gods, when you called him that, he could feel his ears burn hot. Finally fully opening his eyes, his gaze found yours, softening instantly. How he managed to find someone like you, he would never understand. Regardless, he sat up, pawing at his eyes to dust the sleep from them. “I’d rather have you.” You heard him grumble, cheeks rosy. Another one of those addicting laughs left you. He didn’t think it was amusing. “Fine, I’ll get up…��

You practically bounced in place, rocking on your feet in excitement. It wasn’t hard to see that you adored your husband, his sleep shirt wrinkled and hair messy from sleep making you bite your lip in glee. Chilchuck gave you a skeptical look, scratching the back of his head before stretching. The action reminded you that he did have a little height on you, your own size as a half-foot causing you to feel small in any context. His shirt rode up to expose the tummy there, causing you to leave your gaze locked at that spot for a moment.

“Are you really this excited for me to get out of bed?” He mused, grumpiness slowly ebbing away at the warmth completely radiating off of you. You felt yourself nod, wrapping your arms around his waist and peering up at him with that expression that always made him weak in the knees. “I’m always excited for my husband to wake up and join the living again.”

“Is that so?” Chilchuck grinned, his voice rumbling in his chest and tingling against your skin. “You want a grump like me awake at this hour?” You couldn’t help but feed into him, continuing to nod your head cheerfully. “Really? Then it would be a shame if…”

Before he finished his sentence, you felt yourself pulled down to the bed as he fell backwards, a yelp leaving you in shock. He held you in his embrace, nuzzling into your neck and yawning. “...I took you down with me. Oh well.” Obnoxiously fake snores followed his teasing reply, causing you to laugh in bewilderment.

“Chilchuck, are you serious? I had finally gotten you up! Everything that I made is gonna get cold!” Although you spoke with mock frustration, the longer you found yourself in his embrace, the more you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Huffing, you relented. “Not my fault that your breakfast is going to be freezing by the time you finally get moving.” Your own grumbling, voice muffled against his shirt, caused him to chuckle. Your head buzzed.

His playfulness this morning made you feel a little giddy, studying his face as the light filtered in. A few gray hairs were illuminated in the sea of auburn, something you found pleasure in. You had to remind yourself that you both weren’t as young as you used to be, but if you were able to continue spending this life with him, well… Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

[futurewriter2000]

Second Chance

A/N: I don't know how this can end in a happy ending but... I'll try. I didn't even know how to start writing this request but I think I did fairly well and even better than I expected. I think I can do it better though but for now, I'll give you this. Short-ish and sweet. I tried to put everything into one fic.

REQUEST #14 (wattpad) @fredsdeath: HI!! I love all ur books especially the fred weasley book and uhm i was wondering if you could do my request abt how y/n pretends to have amnesia and not remember fred bc fred was her ex and broke her heart in their past relationship like happy emding or not its fine and this is just a suggestion its still okay if you dont do it tho :D

XX

They say that the first few months always feel like a true honeymoon and then the reality hits but it wasn't like that with you and Fred. It was different because the two of you were friends first before anything and that changed everything. You knew who he was, the good and the bad, as well as he did. The two of you had this undestructable bond, nothing in the world could break. It felt real, it felt true, it felt like a once in a life-time love and you believed that.

You did... until you didn't anymore.

There were moments of Fred acting ditant. Sometimes when you looked into his eyes, he wasn't there and when he smiled, it felt forced. You felt like you were too much for him so you took a step back as well, thinking that space was all that he needed. You were different than him however, you didn't want space, you needed reassurence that he is still the Fred that will hold your hands and kiss them randomly when the two of you are laughing or just sitting together. You believed that the Fred that walked down the hall, nagging you jokingly until you retorded a sarcastic comment back, pretending to be furious with him until he nagged you until you laughed- was still somehow there. You believed that the Fred who made your stomach cramp either from laughter or butterflies will appear soon. It's just a hard transitioning moment, now that the new headmistress is on. He's coming back... he's still Fred.

He wasn't though.

"What do you mean?" your eyes twitched and you couldn't figure out whether you were angry or sad. You kept looking at the ground, not knowing when your hands ripped themselves from his.

"It's not you, I swear, it's just-"

"It's you." you looked at him, your lip trembling but you refused to cry in front of him.

"It is..." he bit his lower lip. "I just don't think that this is it." he said and you refused to look at him. He forced a smile and swayed on his feet. "We can still be friends." he said, touching your shoulder playfully as if all of a sudden you will place a smile on your face, bright and jolly but you turned your head away, wiped the crocodile tear that fell from your eyes and looked at him.

"Who is she?" you said with a sharp cold tone.

"There isn't-"

"You never lied to me, Fred. Don't start now." you glared.

He looked at you and pursed his lips together. He looked away and you let out a laugh from disbelief.

"I had a feeling but I always refused to listen to it. You know why?" you paused. "Because my trust for you was bigger than my insecurities but you just made me believe I was going crazy for such a long time until you grew balls to tell me."

"I just kissed her once-"

"Oh-" you literally heard your heart break inside your chest.

"She KISSED ME-" he mumbled. "I swear, I didn't kiss her first, she just sort of leaned in and I pulled away and I didn't want to say anything, I swear because I thought it was nothing but she just sort of... I don't know... I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"So you want to slag around."

"NO!" he started to get frustrated, shaking his head. "I just- I'm lost right now. I don't know what I want."

"You want her."

"No-" he shook his head. "I don't know... maybe... I don't know."

"Fuck you." you said, slapping him hard on his cheek that it turned red immediatelly. "You just wasted fucking 8 months of my life." and with that you turned around.

----

It's been a long year now since then and you knew her name... not that you truly wanted it but you heard of a short fling between Fred and Angelina Jonson. She was another good friend of his and you wished you figured it out sooner but you haven't.

You've cried. You did. More than just one crocodile tear. You've made a mess from your room and your roommates didn't really mind. They've been patient and graceful with you. They've also been a good distraction from your emotions and you were glad you weren't when Fred made his great parting with fireworks in Hogwarts that year.

You've put yourself together since then. You did and you've heard he's been with that woman, another woman, a few other women and you didn't want to hear none of it. Your friends kept telling you about it, despite you didn't want to. You heard about his shop and all of other things.

Now... well, now you've had your own appartment, which was quite hard with the economy but you wanted your place since you were an early teen. And to think of it, getting an appartment was easier than getting a job that pays well on your education. But it did. You've worked in a small bussiness, grammar checking documents that came in and out. Something close to an accounting. It wasn't what you wanted but it was something.

You haven't seen Fred in a year and a half. He was still on your mind though. He was. It was as if he put a chip into you that keeps rewinding time back to when the two of you were in love.

What you hated more was that you did move on but somehow he was still following you everywhere you went. You didn't see him anywhere and you knew that was a good sign but you were always on the lookout. Close to his shop, you felt anxious and you thought it over what would happen if he came out now and see you. You didn't know. You didn't know anything. Your brain turned off like nothing.

But that never happened and so you were okay with moving on.

---

So how did you end up here?

How did he end up here?

The last thing you told him was that he should have fun with your replacement and he did... for a short time. It really infuriated him that you told him that but Angelina really wasn't the one either. He pushed it as far as he could but something didn't click with her. He didn't feel joy with her, he felt obligated to be with her but he grew tired of being with someone.

He told you he forgets people easily but why did seeing you hurt so much. It was like a sting into his heart- quick but short. He couldn't mumble a word when you stood there and there was no shine in your eyes, no glow on you as he remembered you. There was a smile but not as joyful.

You stood there... still beautiful.

He hated that. He hated that you were still beautiful- more than him... since always.

He turned his head away, not wanting to look at you anymore. He was furious- so darn furious. Why didn't anybody tell him about you?

"There she is!" Remus came over with his hands on your shoulders, gently and formally.

You smiled brightly at him because you adored him as a professor. He was the only professor who made a course feel important and interesting.

"She was my best student and she now works in a small company for accounting- a shame to waste your talents there."

Sirius, he stood up tall and mighty, almost king-like and you felt infatuated by his kingly presence. His eyes were cold blue but his look was warm and safe.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Azkaban or something?" you joked and he laughed.

"Been there, didn't like it much." he retorded back and a few of the group laugh. "She's been working for me too for a bit. Remus recommended her- just for a short time and she turned out to be trustworthy. I bet she went to Hogwarts with you."

Ginny ran to you into a hug immediately and smiled up to you... well not up anymore. She seemed taller than you by a few centimeters. The two of you always had a great friendship, despite Fred. She adored you and you adored her.

"I can't believe you're here!" she exclaimed and you laughed, hugging her tightly.

"Me neither. This man put me through hell."

"I did not." Sirius gasped.

"Don't leave him alone in this house for long ever again."

"We have so much to catch up!"

And you did. With the whole group. You did work with Sirius through Remus. You've never really met him personally, always through some Howlers, letters, some other secret forms of communication and he was always so arrogant through it. He had grumpy and sassy remarks and at first you were professional about it but through time you've had enough and returned the energy. It has mostly been with the documents you've been grammarly correcting. They had been reciepts from big, luxiourious wizard families and you could see in some of those reciepts which were on the bad side, which on the good and which were fleeding and unreliable.

You didn't know about the other participants except Remus, Tonks and Sirius. Soon you figured Moody was one as well when he trampled into your office, asking questions and now you've met others.

You've never been much of a leap of faith person but you've always had a strong urge to stand for fairness and justice. You've fired up when you had to, not knowing until you went to bed that night. Remus saw that in you and he knew that all you needed was a little push.

You've always been reliable and when you promised something, you didn't back out, even if you were extremely anxious. He knew you could never back out from this. A bit manipulating but well, that was the push.

You've looked at Moody with your mouth on the ground.

"Turn into Harry?" you looked at all the others, especially at Remus.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." said Harry.

"No, it's not that." you laughed. "Couldn't we just turn Harry into some random Muggle and transport him?"

The others thought about it as it could be.

"No!" Moody shouted. "Would you think they'd just let some random Muggle with a stick in his boot let into the Ministry?" he growled at you, approaching you. "No- now dress up lil priss." and he shoved clothes at you.

You looked after him than walked to Harry. "Are you comfortable with this? Us... turning into you?"

He gave you a comforting smile. "Not really but a plan is a plan. My comfort is not really in question." he offered you a smile and you returned it, though you felt a bit sad for the boy, espeicially when others made awful comments about them.

What you didn't notice was the little peeps Fred was giving you when you undressed, easily unclasping your bra under your Harry shirt and throwing it in the corner.

George apperead in front of him as Harry, giving him a grin meanwhile Fred just put his glassess on and pretended not to look.

"You're with me little priss." one of the Harry's told you and winked at you.

As you walked behind fake Harry, you passed what you thought was Fred and he called out your name. "Hey, (Y/n)."

You turned around. "What?"

"Stay safe."

You looked at him and nodded, turning back to the fake Harry, feeling your heart beating fast. Not because of Fred... this was pure fear.

---

Fred just turned back into himself, laughing with his father about the trip when Ginny told him about George. He was running into the living room, finding his best friend bloody on the couch.

"Shit, George." he came to his side.

"I'm howy." George whispered.

"What George?" Fred leaned in worriedly.

"I said..." George took a breath. "I'm holy now Fred."

Fred rolled his eyes and laughed from all the relief. "Only you can crack a joke about a blown up ear."

He looked up, smiling joyfully when the others smiled back, hugging him and George. It wasn't until two were missing. He looked around again. "Where are Tonks and (y/n)?" he asked but the others looked around and nobody was around.

"Remus is waiting for them, I'll go out and check." said Arthur but just as he was about to head out the door, Remus came rushing the door with you in his arms. His shirt was soaked in your blood, Tonks' hands as well.

"MOVE!" shouted Remus as Arthur cleared the table so that Remus could place you there gently.

"It came out of nowhere- I don't know who is was but she was blown off our broom and fell hard on the woods. She hit her head pretty hard." Tonks spoke quickly, like your life depended on it.

Ginny and Molly were right by your side, Remus as well. Fred just watched with his eyes wide open. Everything was gone, all the anger, all of it, out of his system. There was no room for anger, only regret and sadness.

"(y/n)- come on little priss, you have to wake up." Remus slapped your cheeks gently.

It was so sudden. You laid there calmly and like you were awaken from the dead, you jumped up and took a deep breath in.

"Where am I?!" you looked around, feeling your head pounding but everything was extremely bloody.

You heard voices around you but none of them were clear.

"You're safe-" you looked around but you recognised that voice anywhere.

"Professor Lupin? Where's Madam Pince my head is-" you were just about to say something when you started choking on your own blood.

Fred fell on the floor, just by George when he saw the sight.

Arthur saw the terror in Fred's eyes and shouted at the other. "GET HIM OUT OF HERE! ALL OF YOU OUT!"

---

Fred had a whole review of your life together back in Hogwarts. Everything turned back- everything. The small things, the big things and he realised that not once did the two of you had a bad memory together. Not one but until he broke things off.

He was pacing up and down outside the living room. Ginny kept trying to calm him down but he was not consolable. Not until you were completely alright. Not until he comes back and you're breathing and smiling at him.

Finally Arthur came to Fred, only to Fred because he knew of their past together. His expression was grim but it wasn't something Fred could read at the moment. He had you in perfect image. Since always.

"How is she?!" he quickly asked and everybody stood up and listened as well.

"She's living and breathing." he said, putting his hand on Fred's shoulder. "Remus is great at taking care of people, so she's resting with George... however... she kept recalling back a few years..." he looked up worriedly. "She kept asking for Dumbledore and... McGonagall..." he continued. "Remus says it could be shock or some short amnesia."

"What does that mean, dad?" Fred asked but his father only looked away. "Dad!"

"I don't know really... only time will tell when she wakes up."

Fred burst through the door and found his two favorite people laying on the couch. It was odd sight becuase you were there moving your lips and looking at your roommate, fist bumping him.

"Samesiess." George shouted weakley. "I've always wanted a girl roommate."

"Ew." you said, laughing.

"Not like that- Merlin." George said. "If moving my eyes wouldn't hurt I'd roll my eyes right now."

"If I could have the strenght to move my hands I'd show you the middle finger."you replied and could hear him laugh, caughing.

Fred smiled from relief and walked confidently into the room. "Hey, you two are on bed rest, stop talking and laughing." he said, sitting at George's side first. He looked at you and you looked at him.

"George?" you said worriedly. "I didn't know you had a sibling?"

"I have eight of them... or seven... six... I really don't know..."

"I didn't know you had one that looks exactly like you." you furrowed your eyebrows and it was only for a joke. You've always wanted to play a joke but something in Fred's eyes.

Something in his eyes made him come towards you and look at you with the same look he did all those years. The same eyes that you prayed for such a long time ago.

"You don't remember me?" he asked.

And you haven't got any clue why you turned your head and mumbled no. You turned it away from him because you felt something hurt inside of you so much by having him looking at you so close. Your heart was tearing up inside of you all over again and you wished, you prayed, you said you never met him because that was what you truly wanted. You wanted that he never existed in your brain because it just... hurts so much.

"Please leave me alone." you said and kept shutting your eyes.

Fred backed away, terror in his eyes, his heart, rage? Perhaps shock- something was in his chest, burning up his throat. He didn't hear the pain in your throat or the tears that fell from your eyes when you turned away. He couldn't function properly.

"Fred..." he heard George but he just stormed outside.

It was as if something was spinning in his head. It was so horrible.

Ginny came after him, calling out his name, asking what is wrong.

"WHAT'S WRONG?!" he turned around, a big forced smile of disbelief, almost wicked-like. "I ALMOST LOST TWO PEOPLE THAT ARE IMPORTANT TO ME! BESIDES THAT ONE LOST AN EAR, THE OTHER LOST A BLOODY MEMORY OF ME- OF OUR WHOLE RELATIONSHIP!!!"

Ginny stood there. Usually she would shout something back but she just let him yell.

"Ginny- she-" he started to break down, falling onto his knees and pulling his long legs into a hug.

Ginny walked to his side and hugged him around the shoulders. "It could be temporary... she's just in a shock."

"She remembers George."

"How do you know? She just talked to him like she woud with another person."

"She wouldn't talk to me like this..."

"She would." Ginny added and Fred looked at her, letting a laugh.

"Yeah... she would... she was unpredicatable like that." he said.

"Why did the two of you even break up?"

"I don't know really." Fred mumbled. "But I don't know if I can live through her not remembering us... you know?" he looked at Ginny, then laid his head on her shoulder. "We used to have so much fun... when we were together. She was so snarky and confident..."

"She's always so happy and has such a good heart." Ginny added.

"Yeah... she was perfect and... I really didn't know we would work so well together but I don't know... I thought she would be a fling and I wasn't ready to commit- she just... she deserved so much better than me, I always knew that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... look at her and look at me." he lookd at Ginny.

"Fred, she looked at you as if you were the whole world for her, not because of your looks or it was because of your looks, I doubt that though but she didn't want anybody else. She wanted you." Ginny said and Fred looked at her.

"I don't know Ginny."

"You do know, Fred. You were the one who thought you didn't deserve her and with the way you were acting after the two of you broke up, just told me how much she hurt you." she continued without any filter. "And it wasn't that she hurt you... it was that you were furious that you fucked up a good thing."

Fred looked at his sister with a confused look. She didn't use that kind of language. "I don't know when you grew up so much, Ginny." he said and laid his head back on her shoulder. "But... if she forgot about us... and me... I don't know- she was the only person who really knew me and it was hard for her to trust me in the first place. When she did, it felt like I met the right person to feel safe with..."

"Like I said... we can hope that she does remember."

---

You and George were laying in the darkness, both resting. You were glad the whole thing was over, even though you almost couldn't have made it out alive.

"Do you really not remember Fred?" asked George.

There was silence but you looked to the darkness beside you where George was speaking from. "I wish I didn't." you said.

"Why did you tell him then you didn't?" he asked calmly.

You turned your head back to the dark ceiling. "I just... I actually don't know... it was a joke at first..."

"I gathered that but he just saw two of people he cared about almost die in front of his eyes so I believe him for not catching it."

"Then he just looked at me with those eyes... like that he cares and I just... I don't know I wanted to make sure if he does or not so I just said no."

There was a small laugh from the other side. "Did you get your answer?"

"Kind of." you shrugged.

"(y/N)." he said in a serious tone. "He bloody loved you. You didn't know how he was when you weren't around. First he was furious, then he was frustrated when you didn't catch our fireworks, then he was melancholic for a while and all of a sudden he got an urge to go after every girl that walked into the shop- age appropriate to be clear." he stopped for a moment. "He cared, he really did- he didn't know how much he had lost until months later. Angelina couldn't compare to you. He wasn't as ambitious and happy as he was with you. He was absent and lost..."

There was a loud silence after that and you felt as if you have to say something in return. "I didn't know you could preform such long speeches."

You heard shuffling on the other side and suddenly something soft landed on your stomach. "Owww!"

"Shut up, we're both poor right now." he said and you laughed , throwing the pillow back.

---

George was awake and walking. He was just getting suited for the wedding when Fred was tying his bowtie. He walked into the living room and saw your space empty. He looked around and tried to find any traces of your disappearance.

It wasn't until he heard a grunt from the bathroom and you walked out, pinning something into your hair. "Hey Ginny this bandage is so unnecessary-" you looked up and he was staring at you as you stared back. His hands were at the untied bowtie and yours were stucking a flower somewhere where your bandage was loose around your head.

"You remember Ginny?" he asked and you kept looking at him.

You let your hands fall down to your side and you took a few steps forward. "I do." you said and grabbed his tie and started to throw it around into a bowtie.

"Do you remember me?" he asked softly as he looked down at you but you kept your eyes on his bowtie.

You were silent for a while and started to twist it around to stay on its place. "I can do it better." you said and untied it again.

He smiled at that. "A perfectionist, you remember that." he said and he could see a smile on your lips. "Please, (y/n)..." he said and placed his hands on top of yours.

You finally looked up and found his eyes in such pain. You didn't think eyes so joyful could look that tormented. "I remember you Fred." you smiled softly, then looked back at the bowtie. "Just like I remember how to tie a perfect bowtie." you smiled and fixed it on his collar.

He breathed out a long breath of relief. He saw your hands leave his bowtie and he immedately started to fix your bandage and hair flower. "You're beautiful today." he said as he continued to tuck in the last peaces of the bandage before going to the flower. "You're beautiful every day."

You continued to look up, his slick and gentle hands touching your scalp and spreading warmth, even the memories you forgot existed. "I'm sorry." you said and he raised an eyebrow. "I always knew who you were..." you said and his hands dropped, still holding the flower that was supposed to go into your hair.

"You did?"

"I did." you said. "You were so close and you were just- and it really hurt- you really hurt me." you said, looking into his eyes, knowing yours were filling themselves with tears. "It was the first time I saw you so close after such a long time and everything came back- and it hurt so much I wished to forget you." you said, avoiding his gaze.

He didn't say anything. To be honest, he wasn't furious or in shock. "You could have done worse, really..." he gave an awkward smile and you laughed. He put his hand back up to your head and started placing it into your hair.

You only observed and as you did so, his hand fell to your cheek and brushed it with his thumb. The two of you were looking at each other, felt like a whole century since the two of you were looking at each other like this... and it felt like yesterday.

Time truly is an illusion, isn't it.

"Please, give me a second chance." he said, leaning his forehead onto yours.

"Fred..." you sighed.

"I know it's a lot to ask but please- I promise, I won't run away again like I did last time." he said, pulling back and cupping your cheeks. "We're special. I know you know... I know we are... please..."

You smiled, closing your eyes and feeling all this warmth, safety and love over your body.

Hope.

There's nothing wrong with having hope.

There's nothing wrong with second chances.

You looked up at him. "Second chance then."

[illogicallyx]

okay im doing a gojo version to this ask i got this morning bc my darling @satocidal wanted a gojo ver too so im making it happen <333

okay so i will project on this a lot bc he is an entp and im an entp and my bae @satocidal is also an entp so ik how we are so this is like Christmas LMFAO okay lets GAURRRRR

this man will deffo become even crazier when you come in his life bc you are just like him and it encourages his behavior by a LOT!!! you guys wreck havoc on school grounds its such a headache for yaga and omg dont even ask utahime abt her blood pressure levels

i feel like utahime first tried to warn you abt gojo when u came to the school (she was in the tokyo school for those every 6 months meeting she has) and she had been there with yaga while you gave ur interview and you looked so calm and serene and she fell for the facade u had created and when she had told u abt gojo it made u excited instead of deterring you

and yeah when she came back again she was in for a shock seeing you and gojo bond together bc "WAS ONE GOJO NOT ENOUGH??? NOW THERE ARE TWO OH GOD WHY U TEST ME" shoko has to come sweep her to her clinic to get her blood pressure pills

okay this dynamic is like big brother. like with nanami it was like dad daughter this ones big brother and younger sister dynamic

i can imagine this man will deffo listen to hit kpop songs with you which you introduced to him!!! his favourites would be boy groups!! like skz and nct and exo for sure

(am i projecting my kpop addiction on him? yes yes i am) he will deffo be delulu with u when u tell him abt ur bias or when u send him compilations of ur fav group being funny he will deffo watch it with u and like this may reach to a point that he will send you a link to the newest variety show of ur fav group before u can get to it

i have a sweet tooth so like imagine his delight when he finds that out IWNDKDKDK he will make u try all of his favorite sweet treats <333 i feel like he will buy like an expensive chocolate to try for shits and giggles to share with u and it ends up being so delicious that now u both are stuck buying it over and over and yeah....one of you is bound to have a cavity or two

he tried to pull pranks on u like he did with yuji but its like karma has come to bite him in the ass for all the times he roped poor yuji into his pranks at his expense bc u dont fall for him bc u are smarter than him in this department (dont tell gojo u said that he will deffo pout)

u often bond with toge over plans on how to prank gojo and u even get nanami's help in these bc he will take any chance he can get to get back at that paint brush looking —

even doe sometimes its hard to tell who is the adult of this dynamic since he gets even crazier with u under his wing bc u get him but this does not mean he neglects his teacher duties

he will deffo come to save ur ass when u are dangling by ur foot by a giant curse bc u allowed it a break of a few seconds but that doesnt mean he will shut up abt it. if u climb on him and flick on his forehead he will be shocked bc w-what???? he thought he was ur fav???? how could you? but he deserves it sometimes and he knows that and he lets you

u are megumi's fav doe bc u put gojo in his place when he teases the boy too much. yeah its like you have two brothers <333

i can imagine him getting you and him kicked out bc he was making funny faces behind yaga during the meeting he dragged u along with him with the higher ups bc he gets bored and his way of beating that boredom is to make faces at u which always without a fail makes you laugh and before u can stop it u have all the eyes on you and ur beetroot face in return rips out a laughter from him and yeah <3 this happens often <3 its a strategy he secretly applies to avoid these meetings bc he hates them

OH im indulging in these so hard but like when he sees u with different types of braids u do on urself when u come to training he's always so fascinated with them and he insists that you braid his hair too and if u complain abt his hair being too short to grip he will threaten to cut off ur monthly supply of chocolates that u love oh so much and yeah it does the trick lmfao this may be a lil sad but its bc it reminds him of the times geto used to braid his hair for him and he never got to experience that again bc he had to do it for tsumiki and well tsumiki couldnt do her own how would she do it for gojo yk?

he will proudly flaunt the braids whenever u do them for him!! its always a hassle for u doe bc his hair is so damn silky but u keep ur mouth shut bc he may stop his money flow for ur chocolate and u dont wanna take no chances

oh also omg imagine introducing tiktoks to this manchild?????? yeahhh its hell on earth if u do esp for nanami omggg he is gonna eat his brain by constantly asking nanami to make tiktoks with him KSKDKDKDK yuji would indulge him doe lmfao and megumi oh he's making a run for it he heard the rumors he's not gonna risk it lol this is reminding of those fortnite dances that were all over tiktok when gojo and yuji skins were introduced LOL

a/n: this thing is such an indulgent piece of shit but i love it so whatever <3

[owlhousefansblog]

Skk High school (BC why not 👍)

It was a boring day at school for Dazai, he had people bothering him 24/7 and had girls on him at all times. He frankly didn't mind it because he enjoyed the attention and was extremely bored in class. The thought of skipping class came across his mind once or twice but something was happening in class today, something about a new kid. Dazai was known as a freak and a girlfriend stealer, he was incredibly charming and also very intelligent so nothing interested him but the thought of a new kid did. They waited for class to start so that they could meet them, Dazai was hoping it was a girl to be quite honest.

Dazai was happy bc his first class was with Oda, his favorite teacher and an old friend. Oda knows Dazai since he was a little spoiled brat, nothing change to much since he was a kid, not If include working for the mafia and losting his parents a few years ago. He was just 16 and already the right hand man in the mafia , quiet interesting for just a spoiled annoying teenager. But Oda didn't mind, he was always there for Dazai even so Oda was just with 4 years older then Dazai.

Halfway through the hour a tiny ginger bursts out the door, falling to the floor with a broken lip* O yeah assholle?! U are fucking dead ! DID U HERED ME?! *the tiny ginger yelled to the open door *

All the students were looking at him, there was a grave silence when Dazai starts laughing amused

Are u laughing assholle?!*look at Dazai angry*

Indeed I am laughing *looks at Chuuya and his eyes widen*no way- *he think but he keep his act up*

Oh u are so FUCKING DEAD! *Chuuya yelled at him getting up from the floor*

Dazai just continue laughing, making Chuuya more angry but he tries to keep his cool, it is his first day for God saick and he have already a fight

Enough u 2! Don't make me send u 2 to detention*Oda glare at them both* now please present yourself young man

I'm Chuuya Nakahara, your new classmate

I'm Chuuya Nakahara, your new classmate *said Dazai mockingly*

Chuuya tries to keep his cool and just growl at him

*gives Chuuya an amused smile* aww is the little doggy mad?~

Senpai, can I struggled him? *He turns to Oda*

No, you cannot, now, take a sit mr. Nakahara *Oda said with a gentle voice*

What a shame * Chuuya said frustred going to sit down on the back of the classroom*

Dogs should listen to their owners orders Chuuya~*Dazai smirk at him with a upper air*

How the heck did u call me , u piece of shit?!

Enough! *Oda yelled in exasperation*

Just stating facts sensei!!*Dazai complain childishli with an innocent smile*

Facts my ass*Chuuya mumbled rolling his eyes*

Dazai! Both of u it's enough *Oda said turning his eyes to the blackboard starting to write the lesson*

Okay Sensei!!

Yeah , whatever*said Chuuya angry rolling his eyes*

Be nice to Oda, Chuuya!!

Who the heck are you anyway?

Senseiiiii can I leave?? *asked Dazai*

For what reason? *Oda turns again to the class*

Becauseeee..uhm I need to ask a teacher something! *Dazai lies*

Bullshit*Chuuya murmured rolling his eyes*

What was that Doggy~

Call me one more time dog and I'm going to strungle u!

Doggy~

U really like to push u luck*Chuuya scoff glaring at him*

Because you wouldn't actually do it

I don't wanna bet on this~ *Chuuya scoff shaking his fists*

Exactly because I'd win~

Alright enough, u 2 in the principal office

But senseiiiii

No but,after my class

Oh great *Chuuya rolls his eyes*

It's your fault Chibi!*Dazai complains look at Chuuya accusatory*

How the heck did u call me?!

Chibi~

Chuuya got up from his chair and went towards Dazai ready to hit him

Aww now the puppy's defensive~ come on hit me

And he really hit Dazai, the blow was so hard that Dazai fell off his feet with half of his lip broken

What did u say about puppy defensive*He said smirking looking down on Dazai*

*Dazai looks at Chuuya with a very bloody smile" wow! The dog really did disobey his owner!!

Did u want another punch?!there are many more where this one came from! *Yelled Chuuya still looking at him*

Damn Chuuya If you wanna touch my face and kiss me so badly you could just say so~ *Dazai said trying to humiliate Chuuya*

Another punch was delivered and this time Dazai's lower lip was busted* Kiss that assholle! *Chuuya yelled again with an angry and pround face, grining at his work*

*Dazai smiles even tho he is in pain* such a disobedient dog~

*Chuuya was ready to hit him again but Oda stopped him*

*Dazai looks at Oda*

Detention for Nakahara!

*Dazai smirks at Chuuya and sticks his tongue out*

And u too Dazai *a hard look was thrown at him by Oda*

*Chuuya smirk at Dazai*

Fineeee~

Good , now , let's go back to the lesson

[takenbyheartstrings]

FORCED TO SHARE.

summary: person a and person b are forced to share a bed, person a is a bed hog and person b gets cold...

pairing: marc spector x fem!reader

warnings: FLUFF & a tad bit of angst. that's it. bestfriends! to lovers also :) a little bit of a sexual reference too SNFKJSDNF

word count: 2.1k

authors note: more fluff because im still thinkin' about episode 5 :'( so this is to cheer everyone up!! there's not a lot of marc fluff as there is smut so that's why i keep writing for him :( i need to write for steven too tho, i need my boy :(

I HAD TO REPOST THIS BC TUMBLR IS SO FKN ANNOYING W/ THE TAGS NOW.

"Marc, I'm seriously not mad at you anymore." you huff, okay, so you were still a little annoyed that he ran off to Cairo without you. You helped him every single time. You were his informant, his partner in crime.

He pouts, "'M still sorry, okay? I shouldn't have done it... I dunno why I'm even here. I just needed to get away."

You and Marc were driving in the Jeep, on the way to Marc's hotel. You'd be staying with him, he called you to come to Cairo and you came running. He's your best friend, of course you'd come running. He told you he couldn't say much over the phone, but it's not like there was much to talk about.

"...Marc." You say stern, keeping your hand on the wheel. You eye him for a moment as his head is pressed against the window, staring into the mirror.

He sighs, "The guy got away... everyday I think I'm closer and closer to finding this fucking scarab, get to it before Harrow can," He turns to face you, "and every time I feel like I take two steps back in the opposite direction."

You kept your eyes on the road but Marc could sense how sorry you were as you turned down the radio. By the time you'd done this, you'd reached Marc's hotel.

"You really splurged on this place." you said quietly, noticing how nice it was.

Marc shrugs, "I slept in a motel last night and booked a proper room for us... I just wanted to feel normal for the night." He widens his eyes, "Two beds, by the way." He feels the need to clarify.

You nod, "We can do normal," You try to stifle a laugh.

"What?" He questions you, a toying smile.

"It's just hard to imagine normal when you have a pigeon skull over your shoulder at all times."

"HEy!" He laughs, "Don't let Khonsu hear you."

*

The two of you make it into the room, you drop your duffle bag onto the floor and immediately, the two of you see the problem, you turn to Marc, eyebrows raised, "Thought you said two."

"They must've misheard me." He groans, "Fuck!" He hits the wall next to him and anger and you jump a little, but place a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Marc... Marc... it's okay. It's not like we haven't shared a fuckin' bed before." You roll your eyes.

Except, now it's different. The two of you are here by choice. The two of you have nothing to stop the tension that'll build.

You'd always had a crush on Marc. From the day you met him you thought he was too attractive. He was a mercenary and you were a girl who knew a lot of people - you grew up around those sorts of things. You helped Marc out a couple times and soon became his main informant.

You were also an archeologist, so you knew a lot about Egyptology, and all sorts of ancient histories that were beyond Marc's knowledge. Soon, you started to help him on his missions and the two of you were getting closer and closer. Meetings weren't meetings anymore and most times he'd just come into your house with the spare key you'd given him. You'd do the same.

Marc started having feelings for you when you began to get closer to him. At first, he treated it as it was. Business.

But one day, you hugged him. That was the day he fell for you. When you were holding him in your arms after getting excited about a mission that'd take place in Cairo, where the two of you would be able to enter an actual tomb. The smile on your face was so big it beamed like the sun.

"Are you sure?" He questions you softly.

"Yes." You laugh, "I'm sure. Now, we're both tired so, let's just get some rest, we've got like three days here."

He nods, "That's good, yeah... sleep, rest."

"...and a shower." You bite your lip.

"That bad?" He questions you and you nod a little. Marc rolls his eyes, "I'll be a few minutes."

He opens his bag and takes out his boxers.

Guess that's how he sleeps, practically half-naked... it didn't bother you. It just made you nervous. I mean, you were the same. Your pyjamas were nothing more than a pair of booty shorts and a tiny tank top.

You sit in bed reading a book, waiting for Marc to walk out of his shower. You took one before you got on the plane a few hours ago, so you opted to take one the next morning instead. You were kinda nervous to sleep in the same bed. This bed was big too, and you were a mover, a bed hog, most would say. Every time you and Marc had slept in the same bed, you had at least kicked him once during the night, for which he'd tease you about the next day. Otherwise, the two of you had seperate beds every time.

It pained both of you to sleep so far apart from each other, not only because you harboured feelings, but because it just felt nice to have someone to sleep next to. To know that someone lays beside you with every intention of loving you, platonically or romantically. You knew you weren't alone.

Your bedroom is probably the loneliest place you can be. All alone, sitting in there for hours on end. Sometimes the house can be even lonelier, filled with people or not. A person next to you would just be... nice.

Marc comes out of the bathroom, the steam pours from the door as he dries his wet hair with the towel. He's only wearing his boxers as predicted. Your eyes gloss over his body, you're a bit shocked honestly. Now he's not got abs or anything like that, in reality, who gives a flying fuck about those things? His body is so utterly perfect, his pecks are defined on his chest, lines shaping them, and his collarbones are deeply engraved, his bones show a little when he dries his hair, and his chest is clean shaven, so perfectly shown off. Smooth and glossy underneath the lamp's light. He turns around quickly to throw the towel back into the bathroom, and the way his back is just as beautiful, his shoulder blades just as defined as his collar bones, and his arms are strong and they have muscle to them.

Marc's turned around and he's caught you ogling at him, but he doesn't think that's it at all, "Shit," He sighs, "Do you want me to put a shirt on or something?... I just, it was a reflex, I usually sleep like this." He speaks a perfectly rational explanation for why he's shirtless in front of you.

"No." You shake your head, "It's fine. As long as you're not naked... then we might have a slight problem." You chuckle.

oh but I wish you were. Was the only thought that went through your head.

Marc laughs at your joke, but speaks again, "You sure?" He questions.

You can only nod this time, giving him more reassurance, "I'm sure, Marc. Now let's get some rest. You need it... I need it."

He nods, joining you underneath the covers, you've untucked it from the bed and thrown that weird uncomfortable sheet that slithers its way into every hotel, onto the floor.

You turn off the lamp that resides next to you on the bedside table, setting down your book and plugging in your phone. Marc's doing the same on the other side until both of you are in the complete darkness of the bedroom.

The silence isn't uncomfortable, nor is it comfortable. It's that middle ground where you're unsure of what to say, but at the same time it's better not to say anything at all... so neither of you do.

Your backs are turned to each other and you fall asleep like that. Both of you sharing the blanket, sleeping softly on the pillows underneath your head. As you drift off, you think about the comfort of the pillows and the mattress. How nice the room is with the royal blue curtains and the white walls. The TV that sits across from the bed, that you're one hundred percent sure will not be turned on the rest of the time you're here.

But you finally fall asleep thinking about how Marc's next to you. How you're not actually alone tonight.

*

Marc huffs as he wakes up, he's fucking freezing. God, he went to bed so warm. The buzz of the air-con isn't existent and the windows are closed. So when he wakes up to find the blanket ripped off of his body he realises why. You've taken it.

Sure, you'd kicked him before, but you never got too close or stole a blanket. There was almost never enough room for that to happen. But now there was. You had stolen the blanket... and as Marc tries to sit up apparently ninety-six percent of the space as well.

He debates letting you sleep and just dealing with it. You look so peaceful, and all he wants to do is cuddle up next to you. Your face is squished a little against the pillow, and the blanket is pulled up to your neck. But Marc also knows that he won't be able to fall asleep on the edge of the bed without even a sliver of blanket to keep him somewhat warm.

"Y/n..." He whispers carefully, shaking you softly. You stir a little bit, but don't seem to wake, you were usually a light sleeper, "Y/n..." He shakes you a little more intensly.

This time you wake up, sitting up carefully, looking around the room, a soft moan escaping your closed mouth, "What's wrong, Marc?" You question as you rub your eyes.

As the room finally comes to focus, with the soft light of the moon glowing into the room, you can finally see the predicament you've put the both of you in.

"Ohmygod," You mutter softly, still a bit frazzled from being woken up, "I'm so sorry, Marc."

"No, no, no," He shakes his head, "It's okay. I just didn't want to push you or steal anything back and wake you up like that."

You chuckle, "It would've been fine."

Marc goes through his next few words in his head, trying to wrack for something, but he can't seem to find the words, and when he does say it. You've probably never heard his voice more earnest and soft. So careful and scared. It makes you want to melt and you can't refuse his offer because every instinct in your body is telling you to accept it. You've never seen him like this before. So soft.

"Maybe we could..." He struggles to spit it out, "Cuddle?" His voice is the carefullest in this moment, when he says that final word, but he returns back to his regular demeanour in an instant, "Or some shit like that I dunno, would probably help us share the blanket."

You try to bite back a smile, but you can't help it. Marc's looking up at you as you do so. He doesn't know why you sat up, but the rays of the moonlight shine behind you and make you look like an absolute angel.

"I would like that..." you smile, "a lot." you add in haste, before lying down just as quick. Not wanting to waste anymore time.

Marc's arm finds its way around you as he pulls you closer, your back touching his chest and both of your breaths hitch against the air at the contact. Yours at Marcs particularly cold skin. Marc's cheeks start to flush. He's never felt this vulnerable around you. He's never really acted this way before... shy and timid. But you make his heart do back flips. You make his stomach swirl with happiness and warmth.

That's why his next words are just as soft as before, "I'm in love with you." He whispers, he's not sure if you're asleep or not. He doesn't really care if you heard it or not. He just needed to tell you.

Your eyes go wide for a quick moment before giving yourself a second to actually breathe, all you can do is smile tho and press a soft kiss to his arm, "I'm in love with you too, Marc."

Marc pulls you closer, if that's even possible. He wants to flip you over. Kiss you. Kiss your neck. Love you.

"We can talk about it more tomorrow," you sigh content against his body, "But right now, I'm very tired."

He does the best he can and kisses the top of your head. The blanket covering you both in a layer of warmth that matches the flush of both your bodies pressed together.

"Goodnight, Princess." He whispers, and you're out like a light.

-

hi tysm for reading! my requests are open! so, if you'd like to request something from me / if you'd like to be added to my taglist!!

REQUEST HERE | ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST OR YOU CAN SEND AN ASK <3

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[fruitcoops]

Hey eve :) I just found out the athletic trainers at my grad school aren’t going to clear me to play hockey for the team because of my chronic health condition :/ if you’re up to it, would you consider a lil angsty Loops before he joined the team bc he misses hockey ?

Ps ur writing is dragging my heart and soul thru a PhD program 💜

Fic O'Ween Day 9: Masquerade. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

(I'm so sorry to hear about hockey, love. You've got this. I believe in you.)

It was hard to look at them, sometimes. The jerseys, the swagger, even their fucking flows—the stupid, silly things that shouldn’t bother him but they did. Even Sirius, who…well, Remus wouldn’t go so far as to say he could do no wrong, but he had his moments. When hockey slang would roll off his tongue so easily that it made Remus’ stomach clench, or when his voice would take on that particular up-and-down cadence of a well-placed chirp.

It was everything he could have been. Had been. Never would be again.

Remus worried the plastic edge of the page between his fingertips before flipping it. It had been seven years, eight in the fall. He should be over it by now. He loved his job, he loved his friends, he loved his boyfriend so much he didn’t know what to do with it all. It would come bubbling up and pouring out in kisses or dinner or a hug that made his heart feel like it would burst, and Sirius would laugh, and squeeze him just as tight.

He was lucky, so lucky, and still so goddamn sad when he saw his reflection next to his friends. Remus Lupin, NHL prospect, felt like a fever dream. Remus Lupin, too little to take a hit, was not a look he had missed in the years since everything fell apart. The muscle didn’t matter. It was the way he held himself, the shine in his eyes. Bulking up was just a series of chemical reactions but there was nothing that could bring that dream back to what it used to be.

He needed to be okay with it, or he would lose everything he had scraped together into a handful of vital happiness. Once upon a time, Remus would have done anything to rewind the clock. It felt good to have something to lose, now.

So every morning, he got up. He made coffee and took a shower, changed into his uniform, caught the subway like a half-million other commuters. He greeted Moody and chatted with Talkie for as long as he could manage. The repetition had numbed him just right when he started working for the Lions. No room for dwelling on the past when it was tucked in a neat little box.

“Loops.”

“Loops.”

“Loops.”

“Loops.”

A new name, too. Blue Gatorade and fist bumps coming off the ice. Remus attended the world’s most painful masquerade party every day and didn’t regret a second of it. He made that mask—he owned it, it was his and only his. ‘Loops’ was gentle and warm and comforting. Loops didn’t cry himself to sleep because some sweaty jock asked if he knew what a ‘Michigan’ looked like. Loops smiled. Chirped him. Moved on.

Remus carved out a nook for himself and refused to acknowledge the part of him that remained on that locker room floor, seven years old and still fresh when he poked it.

He figured Sirius understood, in a sense. There was power in the knowing. A piece of Sirius would always be in a dark, gaunt house and so he got it in a way few others rarely did—in a way Remus rarely let others see. It would be enough for them both until they were ready to say more.

“Je t’aime,” Sirius would whisper in the dark like he thought Remus wouldn’t hear. He’d say it loud, too, but that particular crack of heartbreak was not something for loud voices. He’d say, “you’re so good to me” and “how could I deserve you?”, often with a smile but always with a little too much truth underneath. It was a dance they did; he never wanted it to end.

An eternity ago, he would have given anything to step foot on the ice for just five more minutes. Now, in his office with a new roster in-hand and a small picture of him and Sirius framed near the corner edge, he would give anything to keep exactly what he had built.

(Mostly.)

(Sort of.)

(Some dreams never really died.)

[reidsbookclub]

hi grecy! i can't stop thinking about work rn, it's so hard to separate and not think about all day (especially when i'm trying to sleep soon) so i've come to bug you

i have a hc/fic idea: spencer learning to love physical affection bc reader/s.o.'s main love language is physical touch. like maybe at first he's hesitant and not the one initiating the touching, deciding that it's best if she seeks him out because he has no clue how to. but eventually he's so touchy. like she can't pass by him without spencer grabbing her by the waist for a spinning kiss or holding hands while walking or thighs touching on the couch. i am also a firm believer that spencer's favorite cuddle position is with his head in her lap and their legs going in the same direction (if that makes sense). and he would love to get his hair played with and just eat up all the attention.

okay sorry for this ramble but i need something else to think about instead of work stress

hiii Rosie!! ok ok bare with me this one is going to be a wild ride. PS: THANK YOU FOR THE DISTRACTION I really needed it.

The minute Spencer saw her walk into the BAU he knew she would be someone that he wanted around for a long time which is why he kicked himself for delivering his classic line the moment she walked up to introduce herself. "The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss." great job idiot now she'll think you are a weird nerd. As time went on it was clear to Spencer that this was one person that he always wanted to be around. Her laugh was a gravitational force that pulled him and he couldn't believe that she never rolled her eyes, or made a face when he was talking about something that interested him. He longed to have her in his arms, longed for the moment she ran his hands through his hair, he would even settle for having their pinkies intertwined during the debriefing of cases. But he knew that if he didn't like touch from other people, she might not either. Being the gentleman he is he silently longed for the day that she approached him with whatever ounce of physical touch she would give him. Even if by some weird happenstance, a rupture in time, a glitch his eidetic memory failed he would forever remember the first time he felt her caring touch. It was after a long, tiring case involving children. One whose lifestyle hit a little too close to home for Spencer, luckily it all resulted in a happy ending for the family but it took a toll on the team, especially on Spencer. Y/N could see the distraught, tired look on his eyes the minute they got on the plane so without a second thought she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the sofa. " sit now" she commanded and Spencer being too wonderstruck by her touch did as he was told. He never expected her to sit next to him but when she did he longed to just lay his head on her lap, even for just a millisecond. "want to talk about it?" she kindly asked, "no, im fine just tired" he replied. Spencer didn't know better but if he did he would've sworn that she whispered, "my sweet baby boy" Spencer could tell she was holding back from saying what she wanted to say so urging her with a nod she took a deep breath and said as she patted her lap, "come on, if anyone needs the sleep its you" So Spencer laid his head on her lap and fell asleep to the soothing rhythm of her breathing and her hand playing with his hair. After that day, rough case or not that became a routine for them. And it quickly let to them realizing that they just couldn't be apart. Every secret knee bump on the debrief room, thigh touching, or pinky intertwining was a silent I love you that they each hoped the other reciprocated. So, when Y/Nr walked into Penelope's kitchen one December afternoon and was greeted by a Spencer Reid wall blocked her way she couldn't help but blush by noticing the mistletoe Penny has strategically placed there. "Well here I thought my chocolate thunder would be kissing me today, yet its the Reids being more annoyingly cute" Confusion crossed both their faces, "the Reids?" they asked in unison. "Well, my sweets if you couldn't realize it by now the team has a bet going on for when you two finally get together so please kiss already." Penelope said laughing. "...so the Reids?" she asked blushing "shush future Mrs. Reid let me kiss you" Spencer said grabbing the sides of her head with both his hands and pulling her to him, adding after, "I knew I would marry you the minute I saw you, Im just glad I can kiss and hold you in public now and knowing you won't pull away." AN: ok idk if this is what you had in mind or not but this is what my brain came up with... now why cant I write my hw as fast as this.

[avenging-fandoms]

pls oh my god.... drew finding you watching obx when he came home from being away bc of filming nd stuff.... he'd just stand behind you and listen to your reactions of the new season <3

spoilers for season 2 of outer banks are mentioned a few times

OUTER BANKS MASTERLIST

--

drew was off across the country in new york shooting for a new project, and he left you home by yourself for a month and a half. you missed him like crazy, but thankfully, you counted down the days until outer banks season 2 came out and you totally forgot that was the same day drew came home.

you prepared yourself for the new season, watching the last episode of the first season to refresh your memory. you sat on the couch with comfort snacks and drinks, as well as a blanket while you snuggled in drew's sweatshirt.

you took out your phone and smiled, zooming in on the tv as drew appeared on it, posting it to your instagram story and gushing about how proud you are of him. the blinds were shut, volume up, you were in your own watch party.

drew waited at the airport for nearly an hour as he waited for you, trying to text and call you but your phone was on do not disturb in the other room. he called an uber and headed home, still texting you.

meanwhile, you sat on the couch crying at john b crying that sarah was dead. you shook your head and muttered rafe's voice under your breath. "i hate that he's so hot" you bit your nail as you watched rafe and ward sit in an office. you admire drew's acting, jaw dropping at how rafe said he didn't feel bad for shooting sarah.

drew walked into the apartment, about to announce he was home but he heard his voice on the tv. he peered around the wall and saw you on the couch watching outer banks. drew closed the door softly, taking out his phone and recording you watching the show.

"rafe i hate that you're so sexy, because now i kind of feel bad for the fucker" you mutter to yourself- so you thought.

"oh is he?" you jump 3 feet out of your skin and smile widely, pausing the show and running over to your boyfriend and jumping on him. drew set his phone down and held your waist as he kissed you. "you forgot about me" he mumbled and you pulled away, standing up and covering your mouth.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry, baby. drew i'm so sorry" tears formed in your eyes as you felt horrible for forgetting he came home today and that you were going to drive him home. drew laughed and held your face, wiping your eyes.

"oh stop that, i'm not mad at you. technically you did see me today" he nodded towards the tv and you gasp, hitting his chest and placing your hands on your hips. "what did i do!?"

"you are such a phenomenal actor and i can't help but love rafe 'cause i love you. but i feel for rafe, you know?" you ramble and he nods, putting his clothes in the washer and you sat on top of the dryer as you talked about your thoughts and theories. "i don't think rafe is a bad guy, i just think he tries too hard to impress ward and that's what fucks him up"

drew closed the lid of the washing machine and listened to you with a smile. you realized you were rambling and closed your mouth, drew helping you down. "how far are you? i didn't get the chance to watch it yet"

"you want to watch outer banks with me?" you beam and he laughs and nods, kissing your head. "you're the best boyfriend"

"oh i try" you two sit on the couch and you pick up the remote, looking at him and he raises his eyebrows.

"are you sure you want to watch this? we don't have to if you know what happens?" you ask and he nods, hand on your thigh and kissing you softly.

"i know some things that happen, plus i want to see your reactions to the things i do know about" drew winks and you groan, starting episode 1 again.

surprisingly, drew binged all of the new season with you. you look at drew with your jaw open, and drew laughs. "is that blonde lady his mom?! and his dad is alive?!" you exclaim and he nods. "also.. can we talk about how sexy it was that rafe could hold that heavy ass gold cross himself? kudos, baby" you wink and he laughs.

"well? did you like it?" he asked and took a sip of his water, and you adjust yourself and sit in his lap.

"i have a few more observations. the way rafe just stood there with his finger shaking over the trigger, he could've easily shot them all dead. but he didn't! somewhere in his mind, normal rafe is still in there. he needs help! and his piece of shit faking his own death dad refused to help him!" you exclaim and drew nods, intently listening to you.

"can i just say how incredibly cute and sexy it is how you observe things so well? and how you're so focused on rafe" he winked and you rolled your eyes, arm around his neck.

"how can i not be? my sexy ass boyfriend plays rafe cameron, i can't not be focused on rafe. plus, he really does have potential! he just needs help! i'll help him for fuck's sake!" you joke and drew laughed, shaking his head.

"as much as i love this conversation, do you want to move it to the bedroom? somewhere much more comfortable?" drew suggested and you nod, drew snuggling himself under the covers.

"sarah really needs a hug" you mumble into the pillow and drew nods. "okay, no more outer banks talk, i'll let you sleep" you lean over and kiss him softly, then his nose and finally his forehead. "goodnight, baby. i'm so beyond proud of you and proud to call you my boyfriend. i love you"

"i love you more, baby. thank you" drew mumbled with his eyes still closed, and you comb your fingers through his hair as he quickly falls asleep. you text in a group chat about the new season, and they all chime in and ask you how you liked it, since you weren't an actor on the show. you stayed up 2 hours after drew fell asleep, talking with everyone about the new season and how you loved it, congratulating everyone and praising them for their wonderful performances.

[haruhey]

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Word count: 13k (i am SO SORRY i got carried away and this fic turned out SO FILTHY but i hit 300 followers so consider this a gift??)

Established Relationship Fluff | Smut

There’s only one bed shower, and Daryl Dixon is an opportunist.

the request:

every single fic of yours is seriously amazing. ur a great writer!! can i request a daryl shower smut bc wooweeeee

There’s always a giddiness inside Daryl when he returns from runs. No more sleeping in the RV for nights on end, no more eating cold canned chicken soup and - as much as he liked Aaron - no more hearing him talk about how much he missed Eric and making him miss you, too. He’s exhausted, his muscles sore from overuse, but the fact that you’re probably curled up in bed makes him so damn excited that all the ailments of his aging body are swiftly forgotten with each step he takes.

Houses fly by in a blur as he ramps up into a jog, his feet taking him to the dim light of a moving lantern in your shared bedroom window. By Daryl’s estimate, it couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11pm, but time meant little in the apocalypse - it was either dark out, or light and with the days getting shorter, he noticed you using the lantern more and more frequently. Just a few days ago, you had fallen asleep curled up on his chest, the soft orange light filling the room before he strained his body trying to turn it off without waking you. The next morning he had a terrible cramp running from his rib up to his bicep, but he never complained. Not even a wince in your presence since he thought the soreness was worth it. He would rather die several times over than lose the image he saw - of your pillowy lips taking soft, steady breaths of air while you slept against his bare skin.

Smiling, he lets himself remember the way you looked when he first gifted it to you, a grin that spread to the apples of your cheeks and crinkled at your eyes plastered on your face. It wasn’t a perfect replica, but it looked close enough to the one you would both light on nightwatches in the prison - which he thinks was when he first realized he loved you. Daryl also remembers the first night he saw you use it, the memory so vivid in his mind that he felt like if he reached out, the soft fabric of your pajamas would welcome his touch.

He could picture it now, your back against the headboard, reading one of the books that littered the shelves he never touches. Your face bathed in the lantern’s hue while your eyes scanned the pages and drinking in every word of whatever you were holding. He plucked that book right out of your hands that night and pulled you onto his lap, kissing the pout off your face until you weren’t annoyed at him anymore, rendered down to just laughing against his lips.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get home and see you again.

Daryl curses under his breath as he fumbles a little with the doorknob, but the profanities are quickly replaced with a huff of accomplishment as he practically sprints to the bedroom, boots shucked off haphazardly at the front door. He skips every other stair with long strides, desperate to feel you in his arms. When he enters the bedroom, he places his crossbow on the dresser and is surprised to see the room as dark as it is, the only source of illumination being the moon as it streams through the windows. The bed is empty and the blankets are strewn to your side, but neither you nor your pajamas are anywhere in sight. Panic flies through him before he registers the unmistakable sounds of the shower running, and he scoffs at himself when he sees the dim orange light peeking from beneath the bathroom door.

Had you known how worried he was for a second, you would have laughed at him. He was already so protective of you before the two of you got together, but it was another level entirely when you both made it official. It wasn’t just losing you to the dead anymore - it was also losing you to other people. Daryl knew you could take care of yourself, he had seen you hold your own on runs in the prison and trips outside the Alexandrian gates, but, God, if anything happened to you he wouldn’t know what to do. Being apart from you once when the Governor attacked was already almost too much for him to handle, but the thought of losing you and having to be okay with the fact you were never going to love him again? That was something he never wanted to experience.

Leaning against the wall, he pulls off his belt and places it next to his crossbow, his vest following not long after. The mattress squeaks slightly when he makes his way over to it and lies down, his body feeling almost instant comfort at the feeling of something other than the hard leather of his bike’s seat. Days like this made him think that maybe you were right in jokingly telling him that his motorcycle was a dumb choice for long runs - his tailbone was probably shaped like a rectangle from how long he’d been sitting on his ass.

A few moments pass as he allows himself to indulge in some rest, eyes closing and already in the first stages of a slumber before he shoots up, pushing himself to the edge of the mattress and sitting straight. Fuck, he needed to shower. He had given you his word that he would. Each time before he fell asleep after a run, he’d said; and Daryl Dixon was not one to break promises. Especially not to you.

Getting off the bed, he sheds his shirt and throws the old fabric onto the dresser, grimacing at the knowledge he would have to scrub at the dried walker blood come morning. His socks are next, pulled off by impatient hands and left on the floor, not even given a second glance as he then pulls open a drawer and grabs a pair of boxers from his meager pile. The only thought in his mind being the feeling of smooth sheets and your body against his skin. He’d pick up his clothes after his shower - if he could even muster up enough energy to.

Step by step, he makes it a good few feet out of the bedroom before he realizes the other second floor bathroom doesn’t work. If his memory served him correct, there were some plumbing issues and, before anyone could buy replacements, the world became, well, what it is now. After all, it was the only reason you and Daryl even took this house - nobody else wanted to have only one shower and, after becoming a couple, sharing one between two people didn’t seem all that bad. At least, that’s what he thought until now. Groaning, he rubs his eyes in an attempt to rub out the fatigue in them before his whole body lights up with an idea. Maybe he could have some fun with this. And if you asked, he could always blame the missing pipe or whatever it was that the Alexandrians couldn’t fix.

Practically thrilled, he mentally pats himself on the back and rushes back to the bedroom. Tired? Not anymore. Daryl can’t be if he wants to fulfill what just popped into his mind. Years of hunting leave his footsteps nearly silent when he enters the bathroom, but he’s not exactly at a disadvantage in terms of noise. The rhythmic beating of water against the tiled floor drowns out the slight squeak of the door as well as the hitching of his breath when he notices the gap. With how the room was designed, just standing at the door led his gaze in a nearly direct line of sight to you, the shower curtain lying an inch or two from the wall and offering him a vision which he doesn’t hesitate to indulge in.

It’s not like he's never seen your body - far from it, actually - but there was something about you that made him hesitate when it came to stuff like this. You deserved sweet and soft, affectionate with declarations of love between his kisses, and while he enjoyed giving that to you, sometimes he wanted something different. Sometimes Daryl wanted to act on impulse - to feel a different type of desperation - and tonight, he wanted to act out one of his long-hidden fantasies. One that involved you on many, many occasions.

Truthfully, he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it since Merle and his buddies showed him that damn VHS as a hormonal high schooler. He never really had a committed girlfriend or anything like that to ever even pluck up the courage to ask, but that fantasy remained like a phantom in the back of his mind, lying just outside his finger’s reach. One that haunts him late at night and renders him withering in his own palm. At least, that was the case. Because he has you now and how he managed that? He didn't know. But he felt confident enough around you and trusted you enough to pursue the desire in him.

A shiver courses through him, running along the tip of his spine when he considers the possibility you might like it as much as him - and if you did, maybe he would divulge to you more of these secrets he’s always kept hidden so well.

With silent movements, Daryl unbuttons and unzips his jeans as he leans against the door of the bathroom, just barely suppressing a groan when his fingers graze the zipper. He curses himself, chastising his sensitivity at the mere image of you doing something as mundane as taking a shower, but he knew it was an inevitable consequence. Ever since the prison, anything you did got him riled up - even just seeing you sitting on his motorcycle made his skin light up with goosebumps. Left in only his boxers, he steps out of the denim pooling at his feet and picks it up, throwing it haphazardly onto the cream coloured counter as he waits for you to take notice of his presence. The metal button clashes against the smooth marble of the vanity, and its noises sound across the room, your eyes opening and your fingers catching the edge of the plastic curtain as you dart your head out, searching for the source.

Your body tenses up, no doubt the experience of living out on the road for so long, but the fighting instinct drains from you the moment you see the affectionate boyish grin playing on Daryl’s lips. It’s barely visible as he stands so far from the meager light source, but it sends an eager smile onto your face. Like all those times he’s returned to you, you want to run to him, feel his arms wrap around you and inhale his scent as you plant those incessant kisses he ‘hated’ everywhere on his face, but that urge only serves to remind you that you’re standing naked in a shower and he’s just staring at you.

“Daryl! What the- I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

Embarrassed, you speak, voice pitched higher than normal from the shock and excitement coursing through your body. However, he stays put, leaning against the door as he drags his eyes up the expanses of skin afforded to him; that is, until you pull the plastic curtain to cover yourself and run your free hand through your hair, tilting your head ever so slightly in order to urge his eyes to meet yours. You wait for his response as you brush the wet strands back from your face, but it never comes, him instead choosing to stride towards you and send you a pout before pulling petulantly at the shower curtain, trying to coax you to let go of it. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, your grip loosens and he can barely hold back his excitement when you really do let go, tongue peeking out for just a second before he hooks his lip between his teeth.

Throughout your relationship with Daryl, you learned he loved looking at you, gawking at and admiring each angle, birthmark and curve until you felt heat flush through your body. Even before the two of you got together, his gaze stuck on you, longing and soft when you weren’t looking, only hardening if your eyes ever met his. Each time he saw you it was like he was still in disbelief that you were his, forever suspended in the wide look he had when you first confessed to him, hence why you didn’t pay much attention to his stare as you moved to pump out some shampoo. You didn’t really know why he was in the bathroom and he made no effort to tell you, but you were here to clean yourself. So that’s what you’ll do. He’ll probably leave sooner or later after making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere, anyways.

The way the light from the lantern bounced off your glistening skin made you look like some sort of goddess. Like an otherworldly being he shouldn’t be looking at. Or like a succubus, sinfully tantalizing, except you didn’t know what you were doing to him as you raked your hands through your hair again, bubbles forming already between your fingers as you scrubbed. Shit, this was way better than he expected, and he’s gladly taking in everything it was offering. Shifting his weight, he clenches and unclenches his fists - commanding himself to keep them at his sides - but then you turn around, allowing the water to rush down your back and his resolve withers away as he tries not to envy the path along which it’s falling.

Soon, the little space between the shower curtain and the ceramic tiling isn’t enough for him. He needs to feel you against him, his trembling hands and suffocating boxers egging him on like this was the first time he’s ever seen you naked. Clearing his throat, he urges himself to move, building his confidence which had seemed to dissipate nearly immediately as you locked eyes with him. What he wanted to do wasn’t sweet or affectionate, and even though he knew you would tell him if you didn’t like it, he just didn’t really want to risk even doing something you didn’t like in the first place.

“Sorry I, uh, I’ll go rinse out my hair somewhere else. Here, I’ll get out so you can-”

This was it. He had to act now or he’ll lose the opportunity. Running his thumb across his bottom lip, he watches as your hand reaches for the shower valve, but your movements and voice stop when Daryl shoots his dominant hand out, the calloused skin wrapping around your wrist in a warmth that makes you snap your gaze to his. While firm, he never applies enough force to hurt you - he knows what kind of men there were in this world, and he didn’t know what he would do if you ever thought of him like that. On the contrary, the feeling of his fingers around you is welcome, especially after what felt like years away from him. Giving him that same inquisitive look, except this time laced with a small smile, you can tell by the way he’s gnawing at his lip that he has something to say. Something that has him hesitating in a way you’ve never really seen him hesitate before, well, besides the first time you both kissed.

“Actually, mind if I join ya? ‘Cause ya see, the other shower don’t work and there’s this girl - my girl - she’s amazin’, but she doesn’t let me into our bed ‘til I shower and I’m damn tired.”

Oh.

Noticing the way you tense up slightly at his suggestion, he offers more, another reason to sway you into accepting as if the pursuit of his little fantasy would both begin and end with what drops from his lips. This definitely felt more daunting, like a much larger leap than him asking for permission to kiss you.

“I also heard showerin’ in pairs saves water.”

Oh.

Yeah, you get why he was hesitating now.

Honestly, Daryl really couldn’t give a fuck about the water he was talking about. What he had in his running mind had little to do with his environmental footprint and more to do with feeling your skin on his and the image of you coming undone for him. He hasn’t been home - been with you - in what felt like weeks, and he thought the generator could stand to work a little harder after running for one person for a few days. With a slight upwards twitch of his eyebrow, you can feel what little apprehension you had leave your body and his heart pounds in his ribcage with the anxiety of what’s to come. At least, he thinks that’s why its beating at 100 miles per hour.

It surely can’t be the residual hormonal anticipation or excitement from his youth.

“And who exactly did you hear that from?”

The slight joking edge to your voice causes him to smile, but it’s a mischievous one, one that holds promises and sends a shiver through your body. Daryl really had no clue what he did to you when he looked at you like that, his piercing blue gaze hitting you as his head tilts down almost sheepishly to the grip he has on you.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a glint residing in them that draws you to look at nothing but him as he runs his thumb along the bone of your wrist. With a tilt of his head, he speaks, muttered as he gnaws once more at his lips and lets go of his hold.

“It matter?”

So nobody, probably.

The amusing thought sends you shaking your head ‘no’ as you smile, pulling open the plastic curtain in invitation while trying to suppress the idea that just popped into your head. Daryl just wants to shower and the only reason he wants to shower with you is to fulfill that promise he had made. Because he just wants to go to sleep. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he’s hopeful that you would be watching him - and he’s fully prepared to make a show of stripping his last piece of fabric - but he’s sorely disappointed when he sees your eyes closed in an attempt to keep the bubbling shampoo from burning at them.

Why weren’t you looking at him? Was he not overt enough?

Wow, he really wasn’t very good with… whatever it is he’s trying to do, huh?

You shuffle forward from the steady stream and he takes that as his cue to step in, gladly placing his body just a few inches from yours and sighing in relief when the water hits his sore muscles. The sounds don’t go unnoticed by you, and your heart sinks a little with each suppressed groan of pain Daryl lets out. He always worked so hard for Alexandria, and they still treated him like somewhat of an outsider, questioning his true intentions with harsh looks when he even so much as walked too close to them. But they didn’t seem to mind him much when they were eating the animals he hunted, though, and that sent your blood boiling.

Turning around, you try not to let your gaze drop too low as you place your hands on his shoulders, frowning when you feel the stiff knots that have burrowed their way underneath his skin. Almost immediately, Daryl submits to your touch, an all too familiar warmth bubbling in his heart as he, too, turns and exposes his scar ridden skin to you, allowing your thumbs to rub circles into his upper back. He always loved this - the domesticity of these moments, the wordless communications, your love and affection directed solely at him - and he’s starting to forget the real reason he crashed your shower in the first place, lulled into relaxation under your nimble fingers and the water beating down on his overworked muscles.

“Does that feel better?”

Your question warrants a response landing somewhere between a grunt and a groan, but then you laugh and he swears his heart swells tenfold. He missed hearing that. Even if you got embarrassed of it sometimes, or hid it muffled behind the palms of your hands, he loved hearing it. Because you glowed when you did, your eyes crinkling up at the corners with a smile that almost always brought him to his knees, and perhaps almost selfishly, the knowledge that he doesn’t want to be away from you any longer dawns on him - as well as the knowledge that it’s inevitable that he has to leave again soon. Whether it be with Aaron or Rick, or some of the poor bastards that piss their pants whenever they see him.

When you stop your ministrations, he feels himself frowning as you tap him once with your thumbs, but he elates almost immediately when you speak promise of a better massage come morning. He’s slightly ashamed of the way his whole body lights up in goosebumps in anticipation, but it’s not unwarranted. Spending late mornings with you was something Daryl never knew how the hell he had lived so long without, and they were his favourite types of mornings by a long shot. Especially when it ended up more often than not with you on him or him on you, the both of you thankful for the misfit house you had all to yourselves and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“You’re too damn good to me.”

But he deserves it, you think to yourself, He deserved to be cared for like this.

His praise drips with a softness he didn’t even know he was capable of until you came along and Daryl turns back around to face you, smirking lopsided when he sees a shy smile worm its way onto your face. He had to have known what he was doing when he said stuff like that - especially when he used a voice like that. Seriously, how long had the two of you been together? It felt like an eternity already, but he could still make you flustered from a simple compliment. Shaking your head, you rest your wrists at the nape of his neck and use the leverage to pull his lips to yours, thumb swiping at the blood dried at his cheek and hoping the distraction of your tongue on his will keep him from teasing the warmth crawling up your neck.

A ‘hm?’ noise falls from him, small and surprised as his eyebrows raise for just a moment before his hands loop around your waist by instinct. When you pull away, another noise falls from Daryl, but this time it’s more disappointed than anything, and he chases your lips with his bottom one jutted out, taking full advantage of the strong arms he has wrapped around you. Holding you in place, his eyes plead with the now perfected ‘one more’ look you’re all too familiar with and you can’t bring yourself to deny him - he knows you can’t. Closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he waits patiently, he hums when you finally kiss him again, his satisfaction vibrating down to the hollow center of your collarbones before begrudgingly letting you go when you pull away again.

The water runs a brownish red from the dried walker blood being washed off his body and he scrubs furiously at his arms, trying to gauge the right move that will get your thighs shaking and your moans bouncing off the ceramic tiles he’s seen less than he’s willing to admit. Should he just… go for it? Just pull you against him and push you up against the walls he wants your noises to echo off of? No, he should come up with a better idea. You deserved a better idea.

Running his thumb along his jaw, Daryl sneaks furtive glances at your body - who the hell he was hiding them from, he didn’t know - and picks even more skin off his chapped lips as he watches you twist at your waist ever so slightly to comb through your hair. Swallowing down his spit like some teenager, he watches your shoulder blades protrude and disappear, intently following the droplets of water as they fall along your neck and down the muscles you’ve developed. He had to hand it to the sorry rich prick who had designed this house because, all things considered, they did a pretty good job; there was just enough spread of it between the two of you to pass as a decent shower. Even if you or him had to oddly angle yourselves to warm a cool patch of skin.

Reaching towards the shampoo bottle, his arm brushes against your waist almost feather-light, but it sends a shiver through you, rattling your ribs and making your cheeks flush all the same. Daryl lingers for a moment longer than you expect, his body leaning as he stretches over and you think he’s going to step forward - wrap you up in him - but dutifully, respectfully, anxiously he stays put. You want his touch, especially after nights alone with only the scent of him on his side of the bed to keep you company, and, having caught a quick glance at his straining boxers before he joined, there’s little room for doubt in your mind that he wants you. But still, it exists.

Your own arms begin to sore when he finally pulls away, his hands now raking through the hair he seemingly never wants to cut. Clearing your throat, you turn around, eyes screwed shut as you face Daryl, fearing for both the shampoo you’re washing out stinging at your eyes and the fact that if you looked at him, your gaze would probably drop. God, was all it took just a few days without him to have you craving him like this? The close proximity coupled with the knowledge he’s standing next to you naked makes you tense up before a shiver runs up your spine, your thoughts causing your breath to hitch for barely a second. Despite your efforts to suppress it, your subconscious prays that he picks up on the little noise. Please let him pick up on it.

And he does, ever observant as he connects the dots, the initially surprised look on his face melting into a small anticipatory smirk before he all but races to lather his hair in the coconut - or was it grapefruit? - scent. This was good. This was damn good.

He dares take a step forward, tentative, testing out the waters as if he was unsure of your desire, but he knows he can read you, and that he can do it well. This was when he should do something, right? The subtle confirmations - a tense, a shiver, a hitching breath - beg him to. Under the streaming shower, Daryl impatiently scrubs at his scalp, teeth hooked permanently atop his lip as he watches the rivulets of watered-down shampoo catch along your skin, his fingers and mouth itching to replicate its path down your neck to your chest. He knows that path well, and perhaps that’s what makes him even more envious.

Thank God for the fact you’ve closed your eyes because if anybody saw Daryl right now, they would take a step back, maybe even several thinking he was angry. How could they not when he was glaring at you as if you had done something horrible? It’s a surprise to him, the fact that it seemed like you really could not feel the burn of his stare, but then a thought pops into his lust-fogged brain. Maybe you did know. And maybe you were toying with him, playing coy and pushing him to a teetering edge, letting him taste the tension on his tongue until he could hold back no more.

To say he’s impatient is an understatement. He isn’t simply impatient, no, he’s impatient. He wants to do something. He wants you to do something, to initiate the flurry of hands and lips he’s craving so desperately and, seemingly blind to that triad of signals, he scrubs frantic at his hair in an attempt to control himself. As he rinses out the shampoo, he manages to cling onto what little restraint he had over his body until you turn back around. It was like the universe was egging him on, trying to break his resolve by showing him those dimples on your lower back, reminding him of the way he gripped them when he took you that night before he left - and it works. Jesus fucking Christ does it work.

Daryl’s body crowds you then, muscular arms wrapped around either side of your waist and rough hands palming at your chest before sliding down to your stomach, pulling you flush into him while he grinds his hips experimentally against your body. The feeling catches you off-guard, eyes widening in surprise as you let out a gasp into the steam of hot water and you grip harshly at his forearm, attempting to steady yourself from the sensations blossoming from your thighs. He can feel them tense and begin to snap closed against him, but you hear the corners of his mouth twitch upwards with satisfaction.

“What- what are you doing?”

Restless, his fingers travel downwards, hooking a strong thigh between your two legs as he ignores your question, them parting immediately to accommodate him. Daryl’s veins thrum with adrenaline, feeling the all too familiar effects of your warm skin when he realizes you’re letting him do this - enjoying him, even - your hands pawing at his to beg him to speed up, to bring you that nirvana he loves to be the reason for. Heat flushes your body, knowing full well what he’s capable of, but despite it, your skin erupts into goosebumps under his touch, desperate for more.

“What’s it look like ‘m doin’?”

Your neck comes under his affection next, his lips meeting it as he mumbles the words against your pulse point, tongue darting out when he feels it speed up. Almost methodically, Daryl finds the marks he’d left days prior, darkening them with unadulterated determination and rolling his hips against you once more. The heavy motion draws a whine from you, short and needy as your nails dig into his wrist and he all but basks in it. God, this felt good. How the hell had he spent so long without you? Without your skin under his? Everything about you feels like a fucking drug to him.

“D-Daryl- what would your girl say.”

He smiles against your neck, a warm pride bubbling in his chest when he hears the slight shake in your voice. It always got like this when he was touching you, and he liked to think it was the anticipation raking through your body. All the possibilities he could bring to you. He loved listening to your voice as it was, but hearing it quaver as it bounced off the ceramic walls, mingled perfectly with the rhythmic thrum of water crashing against the two of you? It was almost alarming how quickly it made his head spin.

Submitting to your urging, he lets you slide his hands down to the apex of your thighs, groaning guttural into your ear when he feels your hips lift and rut into his touch, unintentionally grinding your ass onto his cock when you push yourself back onto him. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, you hear his breaths as he digs his palm an inch below your pelvis, thick fingers gripping harsh at your inner thighs as he nudges his further between them. It feels like fucking magic, whatever he’s doing, and a plea tingles at your lips before you bite it down. Daryl’s never been this bold, and this is new territory for the two of you. Very new. So you were going to let him take his time - let him explore every inch of your skin as if he didn’t already have it memorized - despite the fact every cell in your body screams for you to sink down on him right here and now.

His grip disappears too quickly for your taste, but before you can even register the decadent sear that marks his blunt fingernails and calluses, his palm makes home just below your stomach and he swipes two fingers against you, spreading you for him but avoiding that bundle of nerves you want so desperately for him to touch. An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips as he gathers evidence of your arousal, and the sound of him makes you claw at his wrist, your hands still blanketing his as you try to angle him to do something other than coat his fingers and smear you across your inner thighs. Amused, his middle finger curls, breaching you just until his first joint before pulling away, relishing in the way you clench as if trying to keep him in you.

“Hm, I dunno. What do ya think she’d say? I think she likes it.”

You can hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he feels your body react and you can practically see it behind your closed eyelids. Daryl knows all your buttons, every single movement that renders you down to a puddle of mush, but he’s avoiding them. His jaw clenches and unclenches as you buck your hips up to try and meet the talented fingers only getting further and further and further from you. Skin warm from the streaming water and the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, his left arm snakes upward, resting just under your breasts before pulling your shoulders flush against him. His teeth sneak out from behind his lips, grazing against that spot that made your thighs shake the first time you slept with him, and you become putty in his hands.

A gasp of Daryl’s name falls before a staggered whimper erupts from your throat, his hands moving so fast and sure along your body as if he had molded you to his perfection. Everything hits you at the same time, his sharp canines right below your jaw bone before they melt into the caress of slightly chapped lips, the hand at your chest palming and tweaking and toying like there was no tomorrow, his fingers swirling, nudging at that tiny bundle of nerves you’ve been silently begging him to touch just once, and you can’t stop the noises falling from your lips. No matter how much you try, they escape.

“Or d’ya think she’s too busy moanin’ for me to tell me?”

Oh, that fucking prick.

To make it worse, you can’t even bring yourself to be angry for that long because his voice drops into that low, husky whisper that makes your knees go weak. Had Daryl not essentially smothered you against his body, you just know you would be a puddle, pliable and aching after just a few days away from him. A jolt of pleasure rockets through you the moment you realize what he wants - to make you as desperate as he is for this - and you know he knows exactly how to get it. Biting your lip, you trap your sounds in your throat just to spite him and you dig your fingers into his forearm, seeking in any way to find another outlet for all the compounding stimulation he just keeps giving you.

Your heartbeat drums through your ears and you can barely register the growl against your skin, but the vibration of it is inescapable. He feels the crescent shapes already forming from your nails on his tan skin and he pulls his face from you, breath fanning your ear in preparation to express how disappointed he is at you robbing him of your noises, but you beat him to it, freeing the words that burn at your tongue to knock him off his high-horse. Daryl was never a very confident man, but fuck if it does not make your skin tingle.

“I think she’d tell you to- to shut up.”

The rebuke is futile, a stutter brought on by the push and pull of his deft fingers and he laughs. Daryl chuckles into your skin before everything from him detaches, only for him to grab at your waist and spin you around to face him, adjusting his hold to crowd you once more. Your back hits the ceramic tiles, a sharp whine escaping you at the contrasting cold, and you can see that smirk you had envisioned on his face when you open your eyes, taking in every inch of the swept back hair now falling into his face as he tilts his forehead slowly to yours. Running your non-dominant hand up from his arm to his face, you push the strands back, smiling slightly at the way he melts as his eyelids flutter shut for just a second. As much as he said he hated how damn soft you made him, he sought after your touch, your hands much too intoxicating for him to deny them.

You glow a ring of delicate orange from the lantern shining behind him, the light bouncing off your glistening skin and those sparkling damn eyes that shine with unguarded affection despite your ‘annoyance’ from just moments ago. Creating shadows over your body with his broad figure as he blankets you, Daryl nearly groans with delight at the image - the realization that you look impossibly better with the warm hue making his head spin. And when he remembers that you’re his to love? He tries to hide just how much it makes his mind run, but his voice comes spilling out without much thought, everything about you shrinking the filter between his brain and mouth that he so tenaciously keeps on during the day.

“That so? ‘Cause if I do then I can’t tell ‘er how much I missed her. Or what I was thinkin’ when I thought about ‘er at night.”

Daryl was already so worked up at the thought of doing this to you, you didn’t even need to actually do anything to him to have him throbbing against your stomach, begging to be touched after days of only imagined scenarios to keep him company. So you indulge him, tracing your dominant hand down the V-line of his pelvis and biting your tongue when his hips snap into your grasp, his grip at your waist tightening as he tries to still himself. He wants you to touch him, to let you give him what you want to give him and he tries his damndest to control himself, instead using his words to try and rile you up.

“Nothin’ I do feels as good as her. Nothin’ I’ve tried’s ever been close.”

Your whole body shivers at the insinuation, the ceramic sandwiching you to Daryl ceasing to feel as cold as it did when he first pushed you against it. He feels like centuries have passed when your hand finally wraps around him, running your fingers in a stroke that has him groaning and nearly keeling over you with how much that simple damn action makes heat pool in the pit of his stomach. Everything about this feels heightened, the steam of the shower failing in comparison to the heat pinging between the two of you. His eyes seek yours, cock twitching and catapulting him much farther to his climax than he would like to admit when he sees you watching your grasp, lips parted ever so slightly, pleading with him to lay his on them.

Heart thrumming in his chest, another groan of an expletive followed by your name drops from Daryl before his hips jerk forward, stuttering into your grip with no real rhythm as he pushes a rough kiss onto your mouth. When you let out a little surprised squeal, he pulls himself back immediately, as if shocked by his own lack of self-control, but your hand never stops, and your face leans closer towards his, the feeling of his ruined sounds vibrating along your tongue making you chase him. This must have been how he felt when he had you whimpering for him on those late nights and early mornings. No wonder you both loved them so much.

Twisting your other hand from the side of his neck to his nape, you pull him to you with equal fervor, the stroking of his cock forgotten in favour of his chapped lips turning into something more sinful with each movement of his talented mouth. His fingers begin to wander now, eagerly grasping at the two dimples at your lower back before his palms find all too familiar territory kneading and massaging your ass. Knees nearly buckling, you remember the leaking heaviness twitching in your grip and you nudge him between your thighs, your legs spreading just a bit wider as you inch him closer and closer and closer to where you need it most.

“N-no, wait- I gotta-“

His hands shoot downwards to still yours and he pulls his hips from you, his statement stuttered through a sharp, shaky breath. Whining, you nearly beg for him before you realize he succeeded in what he set out to do - and he was only gone four days, your subconscious chastises. Your head is swimming in desperation for him as you shake it, hair whipping into your face and onto the wall while you vehemently disagree with both his words and your own internal mocking. All coherent thoughts leave your mind, washed away in the stream of water running down your body and you come to the conclusion that you don’t fucking care if he would poke fun at you come morning, you need to feel him.

“Daryl you don’t need to- you can just- I can-“

You don’t need to keep-

You can just-

I can-

God, you sounded pathetic, your voice barely breaking above breathy through the heavy beating of water, and he loves it, it’s enticing him; he could die right now and he would feel nothing but satisfaction. Daryl was never a very confident man - well, with people at least - but around you, he felt wanted. Not just in moments like this when you craved him so debaucherously, but in moments when you would pull close to him while you were sleeping or hug him from the back. Just giving him your affection so freely and not expecting any back. It made his heart damn near break everytime he had to leave. Adjusting his grip on you, he digs his knee into the wall, perching you on either side of him and leaning closer and closer to your burning skin.

“Gotta get ya ready. Jus’- jus’ be a good girl an’ be patient. Don’t want ya limpin’ tomorrow ”

Despite his words, Daryl can’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t be so bad to linger beside you the whole day, a constant reminder of the real reason you needed him to get you things, or why you would grip his arm as a piss poor substitute for a crutch when the two of you walked along the street. Nobody else would know - at least, neither of you would ever tell - but the satisfied puff of his chest and the fact he stands just a little bit prouder might make them connect the dots. That, and the lovebites that creep out from underneath the neckline of your shirt which, coincidentally, only seemed to darken after he came back. Nah, he thinks to himself, it wouldn’t be so damn bad.

“I thought you were tired.”

There’s a hint of concern in your voice, peeking out from between the teasing and he grunts, acknowledging your words before his hands wrap around your wrists and urges them to loop around his neck. He knows he needs to do this, the action a silent beg for you to just relax and let him treat you right in the way you know he always will. With his neck flush in the crooks of your elbows, you tug him, pulling his face to yours and raking your fingers through his wet hair.

“Never too tired for you.”

His stubble scrapes against your nose as he mumbles his confession between kisses down from your forehead, a delicious burn leaving a trail that makes your heart beat impossibly faster between your ribs. Grip falling to your waist, Daryl’s rough fingers inch towards the apex of your thighs, but he moves them so fucking slow you're tempted to just reach down and push them into you like you intended to do with his cock. Before you can entertain the idea any longer, he catches your lips in a clash of tongue and teeth and knowingly smirks against your lips. He’s dedicated, attentive, and what kind of man would have the heart to deny you? He would do anything for you, all you had to do was ask.

Daryl eagerly swallows the moan you let out against his lips when his middle finger curls into you, the vibrations spreading along his tongue and consuming him from the inside out. Your thighs spread wider for him, welcoming him - no, begging him - for more and it riles him up almost comically well. Whether it was intentional or not, he would never know. He pulls his face away just inches, breath heavy against your parted lips before he sends you a small smile, an underlying mischief peeking out from the tiniest sliver of teeth he exposes. Leaning more of his weight onto his knee, his left hand travels around your waist to your ass, digging his dull fingernails into the flesh and pulling towards him, bringing your hips off the cold ceramic and snaking that arm into the curve he’s just created.

Before you can even brace yourself, he pushes a second finger in, curling languid with accelerating speed, revelling in the heat you bring him with an audible groan that reverberates off the shower walls. Already so desperate, the feeling nearly makes your legs shake under your own weight, but Daryl’s prepared - he could keep you up with the hand he has splayed across your upper back and he’s secretly proud of it. His mouth returns to you again, tongue surging to meet yours as if just the taste of your kiss would satisfy his desire to taste what’s beginning to coat down his palm.

It doesn’t, but it’s a damn good substitute.

Nails scratching pathetically at his scalp, your lungs beg for oxygen, but you ignore your body’s pleading for as long as you can. You need Daryl. Just him. Just him. His fingers are ardent, all of them pushing and pulling and toying and touching you in a way that skyrockets you into an overwhelming nirvana and it feels good. It feels so good to be with him again, surrounded by his scent and his heat, that you start to entertain the thought of begging for him. You try to do just that, but every sound coming from your lips is only absorbed greedily by his before you pull him away by his hair, taking large gulps of oxygen as he does the same.

Not even a second passes before you’re grinding down into his palm with pleas falling into the steam of the shower, all your words going straight down to his cock. Gritting his teeth, he growls at your desperation, lips shooting down along your collarbone before catching the skin between teeth. He has your whole body memorized, proof of that fact littered across your body in the form of lovebites, memories seared into your mind of his everything and it’s almost too much to handle. Almost. But you need more. And Daryl knows, much too perceptive in all senses of the word.

His left arm snakes up to your neck, the nape of it secured in a grip firm enough to pull your hips down onto his muscular thigh, spreading you and rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves with his rough skin. Something between a swear and Daryl’s name chokes through your throat and he curls his two fingers just enough for you to repeat the sound, the movement perhaps pulling your hips forwards toward him. With the way you grind down so readily on him, it wasn’t easy to tell whether the roll of your lower body was from his fingers or the lust running through your veins. A satisfied smirk worms its way onto his face that you want to kiss off, but your head is stuck against the ceramic tiling by his hand tugging securely on your hair. Not enough to hurt you. Never enough to hurt you.

He can feel it now, the fact that you’re close, and it only makes him work harder. Maybe it was selfish of him, expediting your pleasure so he can finally seek out his, but he’s damn near shaking with the thought of finally being able to be with you in one of the ways he always wants to be. Sometimes Daryl felt like a teenager with all this certain enthusiasm he can’t seem to control with you around, but you had never complained - you made him feel alive in all the best ways - and he thanked whoever was pulling the strings in his favour for bringing him to you. Circling his thigh, he pushes everything he can up into you, the pressure making you feel like you’re floating. Fingers carding through his hair, your whole body tightens around him in a silent plea, and he's pretty sure he would have to be just about the biggest idiot in existence to ever deny you.

“Give it to me. C’mon, give it to me. Ya wanted my cock didn’t ya? Jus’ give it to me an’ I’ll make ya feel even better.”

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Daryl’s voice makes your mind swim, the growl rough and dangerous like everyone always tends to think he is, and incoherence drops from your lips, echoing against the confines of the walls as his breath fans your ear. Rutting your hips up to his hand, the knot in your abdomen snaps, the proclamation of it escaping you in a broken moan of his name. He can feel your body’s reactions before you start to get those familiar sparking waves of pleasure, the clench of you around him growing sporadic as he continues to unravel you with his teeth gritted, the unrelenting precision of his fingers sending you clawing and tugging at his scalp with no regard of your strength for just a moment.

His groan at the sensations edges out the haze of your climax and you immediately detach from him, pulling your body back from his so abruptly that he slips from you. Scrunching his nose in disappointment, his large hands cling at the back of your thighs, bringing your chest and forehead to his as if he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even just a few seconds.

“Sorry- sorry if that hurt I didn’t mean to-”

Face inches from yours, he shakes his head and cuts you off with a series of hungry pecks. One to your sinfully soft lips, then to the corner of your mouth, then one to your jawbone, devouring your apology right then and there as he overtakes your senses.

“‘S alright. It felt good.”

Then he kisses you again, urgent all the same, but he only pushes a firm brush of his mouth against yours. The movement is like a signature, as if it were his name scribbled easily along at the bottom of a letter - a soft possession that you wear along the tingles of your lips. It makes you claw at him again, tugging on the sides of his hips to pull him flush against you, fingernails digging crescent shapes he wants to see come morning, and your apprehension all but dissolves into the hot water of the shower. You were his, he was yours and in his mind, there was nothing he wanted more than for you to show him just what he does to you.

“Anythin’ ya do feels good.”

It’s stupid, how you could be in the middle of something so intimate and a simple compliment from him could leave you flushed from the neck upwards, but he loves it. He loves the little whimper you let out at his words and he smiles that lopsided boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat. When he smiles at you like that, it makes you feel like the only person in the entire world. No walkers, no Alexandrians, no runs or patients at the infirmary to steal you or him away from the other. There was no one except you and Daryl - and it’s been too damn long since it was like this.

Body flush against yours, he snakes a hand down between his legs and the other grips at your thigh, hooking it around his torso and begging with a roll of his hips for you to rest your leg there. Each breath he takes sends a jolt of pleasure blossoming against your ribs, his skin rubbing against your chest so deliciously it makes your mouth fall open in silent pants of air. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open when Daryl says your name, broken by a curse that falls somewhere after the first letter. He looks good like this - eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

Gritting his teeth, his mouth can barely form a coherent sentence with how much excitement is coursing through him, and he’s trying his fucking best to hold back from slamming into you until you give him a nod or a pull or anything, but then something in him breaks. The feeling of just having you so damn close worms its way into his brain and he takes himself in his fist, dragging along to gather the remnants of your climax and notches himself, all the while groaning from the heat emanating off you.

“‘S this okay? Need t’know if this’s okay.”

Slurred speech. It was so uncharacteristic of the Daryl everyone else knew - the Daryl who was so sure of himself, the Daryl who wore a permanent scowl on his face, the Daryl who was so mysterious, never speaking anything above a growl - and you think you could have laughed had it not been for the fact the words themselves dig up memories of all the times he had said them to you before. Every cell in your body lights up, high alert now that he’s in you, but he’s not moving. He’s not inching into you or filling you in the only way he can and you push your hips towards him, greedy movements making you swallow more of him. Taking a sharp breath, he lets you rut against him, but still, he doesn’t fucking move.

“God, Daryl- yes. Yes, it’s okay. More- more than okay.”

Sometimes you hated him, and then hated how stupid you felt for hating him.

He waits for your words. He always does. Without fail he checks on you before he slides into you. He never wants to take because he always wants to be good for you, but sometimes you wish he would. Sometimes you wish he would just take from you - take everything you have. There is nothing in this world that is not shared between the two of you. Daryl’s wholly yours as you are wholly his.

Curses drop from his lips, your name thrown in once or twice as if he’s reminding himself you’re real as he feels you around him. They fly out of his mouth like the bolts from his crossbow and ricochet off every wall as he begins to move, slow at first, experimental maybe with his hand secure against your thigh, then he starts building and building into a heavy, sinful rhythm. Shakily, Daryl groans, the breath he lets out tendrilling at your chin before he sucks frantically at your bottom lip, your noises meeting his as they hit the ceramic wall.

He wants to live in this moment forever; immortalize the way you look and sound on one of those VHSes, write the damn date on it, and hide it away for his and your eyes only so it’s rewatchable and revisitable and reliveable. It's not enough to just sear you into his memory like he’s done so many times before because you’re damn near perfect. Like you were made for him - for him to give you everything he wants to give to you.

“Fuck- fuck- you feel better’n I remembered. How’s‘at possible?”

The words escape him, rushing out as if you’ve put a spell on him, and they almost escape you, too, your pulse beating in your ears. But he’s so close to you, growling out through gritted teeth into your ear and pushing his lips to the curve of your jawbone like they need to be on your skin. He pulls his body away, chest leaving yours, and you pull at his waist to bring him back, whining lewd for him and only him, shameless and betraying the blush you feel as you register his stutters, but he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl smiles, that same damn grin with his teeth hooked along his bottom lip and eyes hooded as he watches every change in expression. You groan, half in the way he rolls his pelvis just enough to rub against that small bundle of nerves that beg for him, and half in annoyance at the way that lascivious expression seems to make every electron in you buzz.

“Shut- shut up.”

He lets out a sharp breath, a singular amused ‘ha’ following it, cock hardening and twitching even more at the fact he’s making you blush like that first night he had lavished every inch of your body with his lips - like you didn’t deserve every single damn word escaping from him. Leaning his weight against his left forearm that lies on the side of your head, Daryl brings his face to yours, nipping at your lips and seeking your tongue before he starts speaking.

“You should see yourself like this, y’know. Fuckin’ perfect for me.”

For a man who only ever growls and mutters, he certainly liked to talk a lot when he was pounding into you the way only he knows how and you’re just so damn unbelievable for him. For him. You’re his to love and it sparks something within in him that makes his tongue fucking run and his hips speed up involuntarily. Hell, you probably heard more of his voice in this shower tryst than the whole first nightwatch you had with him. You’re not even sure the water is beating down onto you anymore because the heat of your body makes the shower pale in comparison.

The sweat accumulating on his back and chest and everywhere is washed away almost immediately as it forms and you’re grasping for something to hold onto. Clawing, you wrap both your arms under and around his shoulders and scratch desperately at his back, grinding up against him and making jumbled noises of moans and Daryl’s name when he drags against that spot he knows so well. It’s skin on skin, the ceramic wall ceasing to feel cold as you screw your eyes shut and let yourself mount and mount with each roll of his hips. You hear a nearly feral growl, feeling your leg being hiked up higher by the elbow hooked underneath your thigh, and a loud noise breaks from your throat when his thumb swipes where his cock meets you.

“C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

You’re close and he knows it. It was like he was rubbing it in your face, the fact he could make you like this - how quickly he could reduce you into the incoherent, ruined state you always seemed to become for him. Attentive. He’s always attentive. You can tell by the way he’s memorized everything that makes you shake and capitalizes on them, thrusts coupled with the tight circles pulling you closer and closer to that precipice of pleasure, but he says those words anyways, hoping to get a reaction from you. Daryl’s not an impatient lover - he would spend hours buried in you if you let him - but he’s so damn close and perhaps almost selfishly, he wants to watch you succumb first. He wants to watch the water race down your body as you writhe for him against the wall, and he wants that to send him over the edge.

“Then- then do better, Daryl.”

You bite back, your breath grazing against his neck and a wet heat rushes through him, making him groan nearly wrecked as his hair tickles your cheek. Reaching behind his muscular body to his shoulder blades, one of his large hands is more than enough to wrap around both of your wrists and he takes them in his grasp, moving them until they’re secure against the ceramic wall behind you. You’re warm for him. Pliable for him despite the veil of distaste in your voice and he can’t get enough of it.

Daryl’s so fucking happy you bite back.

His hips stop and you let out an almost childish cry, but he stays buried deep, filling you up to the brim as the water beats down on the both of you and holding you against the tiles by the weight he’s pressing from where you meld to him. His face is so close to your ear now. So much so that you can feel the breath when he speaks, a dangerous growl resounding through your body before his teeth graze along your neck.

“Hm? I ain’t never heard a complaint from you be- before. That a- fuck- are ya challengin’ me?”

An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips when you clench around him, no doubt from the sudden crash of your mounting pleasure, and he pushes impossibly further into you, firmly pinning you down until he knows you won’t be able to move anymore. He wants to show you he can stop at any moment, that he can make you work for it, but you both know he’ll give in. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of which you have him wrapped around your finger, but if you even knew half of it, you would know he would never stop. Not when he was so desperate for you he can barely think of anything except the way you look and feel. At least, not unless you wanted him to.

“Are you g-gonna take it up?”

Although your mouth ceases there, your brain runs, pleas tickling at the tip of your tongue, but you can barely manage to form the meager few syllables that have already escaped you. Eyebrows knotted at your forehead, you try desperately to coax more movement from him - a whine, a whimper, a thrash of your pinned hands flattened by his strong grip - but Daryl’s so damn still and it’s driving you crazy. When your body settles for only ragged breathing and shaking thighs, he takes it as his cue to lean down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s so affectionate you forget that, just moments ago, he was relentlessly pounding into you.

“Don’t know. Seems like you might be wantin’ it more’n me.”

Smiling against your mouth, he pulls away just enough to speak. A challenge in his words so obvious to you that you try in vain to buck your hips to his. If he didn’t sound so good and look so good and feel so damn good, you would have denied it, but you’re strung so taut, so close to the peak, that you can barely form a retort. A stupid, handsome smirk rests on his lips as he waits. Patient. Like it wasn’t affecting him, being buried in you. He’s just waiting for your words - goading you as he watches from underneath his lashes.

“Daryl, I swear to God if you stop right-“

The insincere threat is enough to spur him into action. Partly due to the fact you sound so desperate and ruined for him, and partly because he just needs to feel you again - he would lay you down and take you the way you deserved on the bed come morning, but right now was a different matter entirely. Swearing, his smirk drops in favour of a scowl, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he snaps up into you in quick succession. The hand at your thigh is roaming now, massaging and palming wherever his nimble fingers can worm their way onto before it splays across your ass, using the grip to pull your body impossibly closer to his. Daryl would have made you beg for him - he wanted to - but he can’t stop himself. Not when you look so pretty up against the wall and you’re taking his cock so well.

“Been gone four days an’ you’re already so damn needy.”

Whether that statement was directed at you or himself, you would never know.

An abashed whimper escapes through you and you want to deny it, perhaps just to see what would happen, but you can’t. You can’t because Daryl’s right. He knows he is, and you know he is. You thrash your arms so you can touch him, feel his skin underneath your fingers, but his grip around your wrists keeps you firm against the ceramic tiling - just enough to keep you pinned so he can admire the way you squirm for him. Grunts and groans of your name escape from him with each thrust, the feeling of your body melded to his much too intoxicating for him to keep his mouth shut.

“What, you embarrassed now? Wanna cover your mouth? Keep them noises from me when you’re soundin’ so damn pretty? Ya better not be thinkin’ about it. ‘Cause ya damn well ain’t gotta.”

Daryl tilts his head, eyes squinting in faux-concern and mocking you as his hips relentlessly hit up into yours, pushing out the breath from your lungs which escape in tantalizing gasps with each roll. You’re so close, and the only thing you can do is moan at the sound of his rough voice, the coil tightening in your abdomen because of his determined thrusts. You just need a little more - just a little more - and he reads you like a book.

Without warning, the hand pinning your wrists frees itself, his finger pinpointing back between your thighs with an unadulterated eagerness to pull your climax from you and you damn near cry out Daryl’s name as you claw at his back. It’s like second nature to him, the way he can touch you and make you crumble for him. Practice does make perfect, and he’s always been a persistent man.

“Ya sure as hell weren’t when you were bein’ a brat.”

Everything he’s doing to you is almost effortless. It makes your legs shake and without warning, your thighs tense up, a white hot surge of pleasure erupting from the base of your stomach and you gasp a broken moan of Daryl’s name as you clutch at his neck in an effort to keep yourself from collapsing onto him. He holds you close, chest pushed up to yours and breathing ruined into your ear as he works you through your climax with dextrous fingers, chasing his own as his rhythm begins to falter. Sporadic thrusts meet each flutter of your clenching warmth. until he can’t hold out anymore.

Screwing his eyes shut, a stuttered chanting of profanities mixed in perfectly with pleads of your name fan out from his mouth and he pulls out, rubbing himself harsh against your thigh before your fingers wrap around his cock. Fuck, Daryl nearly crumbles right then and there, a ragged groan rushing from him before his hips jerk upwards to your touch - nothing could even compare to it and he thinks nothing could ever come close. Nothing except you. Pulsing in your grasp, both of his rough hands dig into either of your thighs and he stills, teeth gritted as the evidence of his pleasure hits your stomach before being washed away in the steady stream of water.

Satisfied, you smile and lean towards him, your head coming off the ceramic wall, and he parts his lips immediately for your tongue, but you pull away after giving him a quick peck. Scrunching his nose, Daryl pats lightly at your thigh for your attention and seeks your lips once more, moving his with the same amount of overwhelming love and affection he always does. It makes you feel warm inside, like you were the only one in the world for him. And you were. At least, in his mind you were.

He releases the grip he has on your thigh and slowly lowers it, his hand still ghosting close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Both legs still shaking slightly, your foot hits the floor of the shower and you lean your weight on it, tentative and experimentally at first before you overestimate its security and half-fall-half-stumble into him. Daryl notices, of course he does, and he swallows down the pride welling in his chest as his sure grasp steadies you against his body.  

“Hey, hey, I got ya. Jus’- jus’- I got ya.”

By instinct, he speaks, the rumble of his chest against yours making your heart well up with the familiar fondness you always experience when it comes to him. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words even though you had managed to break him out of his shell a little - at least with you - but there was no doubt in your mind that he genuinely and wholeheartedly cared about you. In his eyes, you had strung the stars into the sky and he always treated you with a softness he never thought himself capable of.

With one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, you use Daryl as a crutch, continuing to lean your weight on your legs until they cease to shake. When you can stand on your own, albeit with wobbly legs, you link your fingers in both of his and meet his protective gaze - alert as if prepared to catch you again if your body gave any type of signal. He smiles when he sees the expression on your face and brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto the back of each of your hands before letting go and reaching for the bar of soap you two had ignored in exchange for something more riveting.

“Here, let me- I’ll help ya wash up.”

It meets your shoulder and it’s cold as he trails it down, lathering your right arm before moving across your chest and to your left. Smiling at his concern, you hum, nodding your head and content at the feeling of his tenderness as he continues to dutifully run the suds down along your body. Daryl unabashedly goes about copping a feel or two when his hand just so happens to fall onto your chest or your ass, a boyish grin meeting your quirked eyebrow when you question his intentions with a look. If you actually, truly cared to ask him, he would say he was helping you wash your body and making sure he was doing it to the best of his ability - quality assurance or some shit like that.

He helps you lather, too, calloused fingers rubbing off dead skin much better than yours could as he focuses the showerhead on him. You laugh when he pulls you into him, water streaming down your body along with his hands as the bubbles wash off your body and you run the bar of soap along the broad expanse of his shoulders, doing your fair share of subtle… touching too. Daryl all but melts into your caring hands, revelling in the way your attention is solely focused on him before he grunts, as if signalling you to look at him. When you do, his hands loop around your waist, head tilted to one side as he gingerly rubs those little shapes he always love to draw onto your skin.

“Y’alright? Was, uh, was that alright, I mean.”

Allowing you to maneuver him under the shower, he begrudgingly lets go of you to rinse off all the soap and feels genuinely clean for the first time in what felt like days. Smiling, you respond, saluting playfully and laying a small peck onto the corner of his lips before you spin around, pulling the curtain open just enough to reach for the towel lying just a few inches away on the towel rack but still keeping the warmth from the water in.  

“Yes, sir!”

His cock twitches at the name, betraying the slur of fatigue in his voice and he sighs at himself, turning the shower knob off and opening the curtain fully, reaching for his own towel that hangs next to yours. He always did feel like a teenager when it came to you, and usually he didn’t mind it, but he really was tired before this and his back is killing him, so maybe another time.

Drying your body, you turn your head towards him and smile before making quick work of your wet hair and stepping out, pulling your underwear on from where you left it on the bathroom counter. It’s a small smile, one fully innocent and only ever reserved for him, but that look makes your words replay in his mind. A shudder runs through him as he tries to ease a smile onto his face too, admiring the scene of you for a moment. It’s domesticity, showing him a homelife he could actually feel loved and safe in; reminding Daryl something like that actually existed for him.

He imagines meeting you in a different world, wooing you like you deserved through coffee dates and Radiohead concerts, not through killing reanimated corpses or guarding Alexandria’s walls together, and his whole body calms down.

But then you pull on a shirt that’s much too big for you - one of his shirts that you said you liked wearing because it smelled like him - and he swallows his spit as if he hadn’t seen you naked just moments ago, a familiar shudder running through him again. Definitely another time. Near future, preferably.

Hopefully.

“You coming?”

Your voice breaks Daryl out of his daydream and he grunts an answer, smirking at the joke that just popped into his head as he replies with a curt ‘I just did’ and catches the pair of boxers you throw at him in response. Rolling your eyes, you comb your fingers through your hair and try to dry it as much as you can with the towel before reaching for your toothbrush. He follows suit, dressed in only his boxers as he brushes his teeth and shakes his wet hair at you like a dog, causing you to whip water at him off your fingertips after you wash off the excess toothpaste dribbling at the corners of your mouth. Smiling internally, he spits, tasting mint on his tongue that he'd much rather replace with the taste of your lips, even though he knows full well you’re just as minty as he is.

“Thank you.”

Meeting his eye in the mirror, you give him a confused look, eyebrows raised in an expression he thought was much too cute on your face for your own good. Your hands don’t still as you continue to rub out the water in your hair, determined not to go to bed with it too wet and risking it to clump up and dry tangled.

“For lettin’ me, uh, do that.”

His naturally gravelly voice clears up, turning slightly more timid than you were used to and you notice the shift in his behaviour. He avoids your gaze, waiting for your response as he fiddles with the lantern he now has in his grasp, unsure of what you would say and you decide your hair is dry enough. Hanging your towel back onto the rack next to his, you grab his free hand and lead the two of you back towards the bed, smiling affectionately as you turn off the lightsource and place it onto the nightstand. Wide-eyed, Daryl stares at you, as if waiting for you to tell him to leave - that you hated what he had done - but you break him from that train of thought as you slip under the covers and welcome him to join you.

Relief washes over him and he happily climbs in, groaning at the feeling of your body next to his and he succumbs to the comfort of the mattress. Pushing yourself into his side, his arms automatically open for you and he swears he could cry when you brush your thumb against his cheekbone and lean up to him.

“Anything for you.”

He feels the words as you whisper them just inches away from his lips, and he relishes in them when you pull away from the quick peck and dig your face into your pillow, closing your eyes and just looking so at peace. You’re so close to him Daryl’s in awe and he can’t help but stare. Wanting to hold onto the feeling of his skin a little longer, your finger draws a little heart over where his beats in his chest and you speak again, voice so warm and sincere.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. That’s what it is to him now, too.

“Glad ‘m home too.”

With a final kiss laid on your forehead, Daryl echoes your statement and pulls your body closer into his. A small smile tugs at his lips and his arm slings lazily at your waist before he, too, closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the lull of sleep.

It was good to be back.

Back to a home he had made with you.

──── ⋙ 

@daryldixonluv @pulplorrd @fuseburner @hells-mistress @maria--grey-blog @marylimlp @pncnsc @tinachristeen @hail-yourselves @whimsicallymad @just-always-tired​ @phoenixblack89​

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[seita]

— haikyuu squirting.

includes: kuroo, kenma, yaku, bokuto, akaashi, + konoha.

p a r t   t h r e e ;;

⤸ last: two ⤿ next: four (coming soon!)

-ˋˏ nekoma ˎˊ-

— tetsurou kuroo.

≻ making you squirt is one of his all time favorite things tbh.

≻ he makes you squirt every chance he gets

≻ he loves how hard you cum, the way you tremble and the way your eyes roll back in your head

≻ it fills him with a sense of power and euphoria

≻ he’s simply a man who lives for your pleasure

+

he can’t fight the grin on his face as he watches the way your head falls forward, burying your face in your pillow. you can’t hold yourself up on your hands properly.

he doesn’t mind, he prefers this position more anyway. he grips your hips, angling them a bit to make it easier for him to his that sweet spot deep inside you.

“t-tetsu!” you sob, muffled by the pillow you’re crying into.

“what is it, baby? my cock too much for you?” he coos, “you gonna cum for me?”

you nod, lifting your head up to gasp when he reaches beneath you to circle your sensitive little clit. the bud had been completely neglected and feeling his rough fingers circling had you squealing, “please, i’m so close!!”

“oh yeah?” he grunts, “you gonna make a mess for me like i want, baby?”

you nod, your nails digging into the pillow case until the fabric creaks in protests. your mouth falls open but no sound breaks free as you dangle so precariously over that intense edge, ready to fall.

it builds and builds until you’re trembling and waiting for the coil to snap.

when it did, you choked on a sob and fell forward, only being supported by your boyfriends grip. he grunts as you gush around his cock and hand, soaking your thighs, his fingers, and the bed beneath you.

laughing, he pats your clit, forcing a few more squirts of your cum out before he backs off and lets you breathe, “that’s a good girl. givin’ me just what i want.”

— kenma kozume.

≻ honestly makes you squirt by accident 99% of the time

≻ it’s not that he doesn’t like when you do it

≻ he just doesn’t really like the mess

≻ but if you do squirt

≻ it’s fine

≻ no big deal

≻ he just carries on as usual. he’ll deal with the mess later

≻ all he cares about rn is making you cum again and again

+

“k-ken wait!” you suddenly cry out, making him frown.

he slows his movements, still holding onto your hips, “what?”

“i-i’m gonna make a mess...” you bashfully admit, covering your face with your hands.

he rolls his eyes, resuming his harsh thrusts. you squeal, grabbing onto the blankets beneath you, “k-ken! i-if you don’t s-stop i’ll--”

“squirt?” he scoffs, eyes locked onto your cunt, watching the way you cream around him -- coating him in milky white every time he pulls out. you’re close. he can tell. you’re spasming deliciously around him, “go ahead then.”

you shake your head, “b-but the mess!”

“we’ll clean it up later, just cum,” he snaps, bringing his hand between your legs to work your clit, “stop holding back.”

“k-ken!” you cry, wrapping your hand around his wrist.

you stare at him with wide eyes, your mouth falling open as you dangle enticingly over the edge. it’s so close. your whole body is tense. it’s building...and building...and building.

until you finally explode with a breathless cry of his name.

you gush at first, your cum dripping down his balls before your squirt, drenching his cock and abdomen as he fucks you through your orgasm. your back is arched and you crying out sweet love confessions as you cum nice and hard for him.

— morisuke yaku.

≻ another one who loves to make you squirt

≻ but.......it’s usually a punishment

≻ you look so cute when you get embarrassed

≻ the way you cover your face shyly after he holds up his dripping hand for you to see ≻ makes you watch him lick his fingers clean of your cum

≻ he rlly only does it if you’ve been a brat or done something to tick him off

≻ so if u want to squirt, just send him some nudes while he’s work or smthn

+

“you think you’re cute, don’t you?” he snarls, giving your sensitive cunt a sharp slap, making you cry out in shock. it leaves a buzzing sensation in your clit that ran all the way down to your toes, “sending me pictures of your slutty little cunt while i’m in a meeting?”

“i-i’m sorry!” you gasp, eyes rolling back when he stuffs three fingers unforgivably into your pussy, giving you a sudden, burning stretch that had you panting, “i-i just needed you so...bad!”

he scoffs, angling his fingers upwards, pummeling that tender little spot in your upper wall, “oh yeah? if you’re really sorry then you’ll make a pretty mess all over my hand. then maybe i’ll forgive you and you can have my cock.”

you nod, squealing when he uses his other hand to thumb at your swollen clit, making your thighs tremble, “fuck! mori! ‘m gonna cum!”

he doesn’t say anything, just grins. his eyes are fixzated on your cunt, watching the way your hole swallows his fingers desperately. it’s almost as good a sight as watching you stretch to take his cock.

the thought of you being stuffed full of his cock has him throbbing in his shorts, “cum. right now. make a mess all over me or you get nothing.”

the threat is enough to send you over the edge, mouth falling open as you cry out his name. he groans through your orgasm, watching the way your juices splatter all the way up his forearm.

“messy girl!” he laughs, pulling his fingers out. he continues to play with your clit, encouraging a few more gushes of cum from your spasming little cunt, “i guess you deserve a reward for that, huh?”

-ˋˏ fukurodani ˎˊ-

— koutarou bokuto.

≻ makes you squirt constantly

≻ but not by choice

≻ he loves it but

≻ tbh he doesn’t actually know how he does it

≻ he just fucks you or fingers you and...you end up gushing around his fingers

≻ who is he to ruin what is such a great thing

+

you love sitting in his lap. he feels so big and strong when he holds you, keeping your legs spread so he can fuck two fingers into your cunt. your head is resting back on his shoulder as he whispers filth in your ear.

he tells you how you’re such a good girl, that you’re so tight around his fingers, you’re absolutely dripping. you’re his filthy baby and he loves you so much. he adores to make you feel good, how he wants you to cum.

your eyes roll back and cling to his arm, your legs trembling endlessly as you keep them completely spread for him.

“kou,” you pant, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as you call out to him.

“i know, puppy,” he whispers, kissing your temple, “i can feel you squeezing. you’re creaming all over my fingers, see?”

you look down and feel your cheeks burn at the mess you’re making on his hand. his cock is impossibly hard and pressing into your back.

“want you to cum for me, puppy,” he coos, hooking his chin over your shoulder to watch your cunt swallow his digits, “go on, give it to me, please?”

who are you to deny him? especially when he angles his fingertips expertly as he grinds his palm against your hard clit.

you spasm in his lap, crying out as you sob and gush all over his hand. he grins, fucking his fingers into you as fast as he can, deft flicks of his wrist that only serve to make you squirt even more until you’re positive there is a puddle on the floor beneath you.

you’re panting and twitching in aftershocks as he pulls out, popping his fingers in his mouth with a groan. your cum is sweet and savory on his tongue as he swallows it down.

he doesn’t know how he does it but he loves when you squirt like that for him.

— keiji akaashi.

≻ only makes you squirt by request

≻ he LOVES when you do

≻ but he never wants to make you squirt if you don’t outright want to

≻ he’s a gentleman after all

≻ sometimes he’ll ask you if it’s okay

≻ other time he waits for you to beg him, in that cute breathy voice if he can make you make a mess

≻ and what’s he gonna do? say no???

≻ as if.

+

you were so sweet, so pretty as you bashfully asking him if he can make you cum extra hard today. he knew what you meant, having learned your little looks and vague requests.

still, he asks, just to watch you squeak in embarrassment and hide your face in his chest if “you want me to make you squirt?”

but you nod, and he feels his cock get hard immediately.

having you on your back, your knees pressed against your cheek as he slowly rocks his cock into your tight little hole is how he loves you. you become a babbling, drooling mess for him so quickly all while gushing and creaming on his cock.

you drip down his balls, already such making a such a mess despite the fact he hasn’t even made you cum yet.

“what’s got you so worked up today?” he inquires, thumbing your clit, making you arch and gasp desperately, “you’re so wet. i’ve barely even done anything.”

you whimper, “i-i’ve been thinking about you all day.”

your confession comes easily and it makes his heart flutter. he smiles, pressing his lips against your calf, “yeah? my sweet girl.”

you keen, biting back a smile that promptly vanishes when he hits your sweet spot. you arch, trembling beneath him.

“y-you’re gonna make me cum!” you announce, “please keiji.”

he nods, finally speeding up his thrusts. he continues to thumb your swollen little bud, watching your cunt eagerly swallow him balls deep as you spasm and clench desperately around him. he works you to your high, teeth clenched.

when you finally fall over the edge, you squirt, forcing his cock from your hole. he rubs your clit with four fingers, forcing out every drop of cum your eager little cunt has to offer him until you reach down and stop him, muttering soft thanks and ‘i love you’s.

— akinori konoha.

≻ another one who loves to make you squirt

≻ some days he can do it some days he can’t

≻ it doesn’t matter if you don’t squirt tho, bc you still cum no worries

≻ he just loves the mess of when you do gush for him

≻ the way your moans change ever so slightly, getting embarrassed as you announce that you’re gonna make a mess for him

≻ truly, he could cum from that alone

+

“work your hips, just like that,” he orders, gripping your hips as he forces you to grind on him exactly how he wants.

you let him, knowing there’s no reason for you to fight him. he’s the one who can make you cum, he knows your body better than you. and you’re proven right when you feel him nail your sweet spot, making your whole body twitch at the stimulation.

you’re not bouncing, it’s a slow grind that stirs his cock against your tender walls. this isn’t about him, he’s working to get you off.

the squeezing of your cunt is enough to stimulate him but not nearly enough to make him cum. perfect.

especially for what he has in mind.

you’ve already caught onto his plan so you let him control your movements. your nails pinch into his bare chest but he doesn’t mind. you’re dripping down his balls, making a mess but he wants an even bigger one.

“c’mon, pretty girl,” he grunts, the way you clench around him at the pet name making his cock throb, “cum for me. i know you want to. go ahead and squirt for me.”

“m-my clit, please, aki,” you beg pathetically.

he grins and finds the hard, neglected little bud with his thumb. a few quick clicks to the button sends you flying over the edge. you push yourself onto your knees, his cock popping free as he continues to thumb your clit, watching as you squirt all over his cock.

he smiles, “i love when you do that.“

he pulls you into his arms and presses his lips against yours, reaching down to stuff his cock back into your oversensitive cunt.

© all content belongs to seita 2020. do not modify or repost.

[mediocre-writerr]

peer pressure [jo wilson]

jo wilson x reader

requested by anon: hey there! i saw you accept requests for greys anatomy, so i was wondering if you could write for jo wilson? she's dating y/n in secret bc the two of them are still figuring out their relationship. y/n is brought to the hospital and since no one knows about the two, jo is assigned to operate on her but jo gets really stressed and panicked, not wanting to mess up. protective jojo would be sweet <3

warning: shooting, blood

*not my gif*

The sound of a phone ringing awoke you from your peaceful slumber. You grabbed the pillow from next to you as you threw your head over it. A familiar weight on top of you. 

“Jo,” she just hummed in response, “Jo, your phone,” 

Her head immediately shoots up and grabs it off your bedside table, but not before elbowing your stomach in the process. You let out a groan, “Oops, sorry love,”

“Hello,” her voice rang out as she answered her phone, “Okay I’ll be right there!”

You remove the pillow off your face as she hung up, “I have an emergency surgery that I need to scrub in on. You’ll pick me up, right?” 

“Same spot, in. my dark ominous tinted car,” I joked with her and she jokingly rolled her eyes. You paused before continuing to talk, “Have you thought about us? I know after Alex you weren’t sure if you wanted to date again, but I don’t know if we’ve been going on dates and getting closer. I know you want to be ready-” 

She leaned over as she changed into a pair of scrubs that she kept at your place, just in case stuff like this happened, and placed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“We’ll talk about when I get back, okay?” you let out a sigh knowing that this isn’t the first time that she avoided the conversation, but you put on a tight lipped smile before nodding. 

“I’ll call you when I’m off,” she shouted before walking out the door.

“Okay, I love you. Go save some lives Supergirl!” you shouted back, but it was too late the door was closed. 

That’s what you always did, you always shouted it right as the door closed, because you knew that she wouldn’t reciprocate those feelings. 

You understood her need to keep her walls up. She was married to Alex and then he just up and left, but you wanted more than hiding on a corner block away from the hospital just so her friends wouldn’t see. 

You looked at the time on your clock and let out another groan. There was no point in trying to get a little more sleep. You rolled out of bed to get ready for your day at work. 

The day was a little cold compared to the fast few days. But you continued your walk towards the familiar coffee shop you stopped in every morning before work. However, today was different, through the coffee shop window you could see a heated argument occurring.

You bursted into the coffee shop to see your usual barista Kate shaking in fear. The man turned around and he had a gun in his hand. You put your hands up immediately knowing what to do in a situation like this.

“Hello sir, whatever you need we can give it to you,” you told him, trying to ease the situation.

“I want the money that’s in the register!” he screamed.

You shook your head, “Okay, you got it. Just put the gun down please,” he slowly lowered the gun and you gave Kate a nod, “Unlock the register, it’s going to be okay,” 

Just when you think you’re safe and the man’s about to leave. His ski mask slips off his face and you breathe out a sigh, knowing now that you’re a liability. 

“Shit!” he yells, pointing the gun back at you and Kate.

“Just go, we won’t say a word,” you told him. 

He shook his head,  “I can’t let you do that,” 

And with that a shot rang through the coffee shop. You felt your body go cold as you fell onto the floor, clutching your side. 

Then you could see him point his gun at Kate, so you did what you were taught to do. You got up quickly from off the floor as you stood in front of her. The bullet hit your shoulder as you fell down once more. Before another shoot could ring out, you could see the blurry visions of officers behind him. 

Your breathing started to become ragged as the blood starts to leave your body bit by bit, “Kate...” you whispered and she looked at you panic in her eyes, “I need you to put pressure on my wound, okay? I’m losing too much blood to-to do it myself,” 

But before you could feel any pressure, your vision slowly faded away.

“Y/N, you don’t have to pick me up right now. There was a robbery at the coffee shop, there’s one injured and I was assigned. I’ll call you again when I’m done,” Jo spoke into the phone after trying to call you three times. 

Jo immediately ran out to the parking lot where the ambulance park. The paramedics arriving right as she got out there. They burst through the ambulance door as Jo went over to them. 

“What have we got?” she asked, not giving a look at the patient for just a second.

“We found the ID of Detective Y/N Y/L/N,” the paramedic said.

With that Jo immediately lifted her head from the bullet wound and saw your pale face going in and out of consciousness. A pit falling into her stomach as she completely blocked out everything else.

“Y/N,” she whispered, fear evident in her eyes.

You looked at her with a loopy smile, grabbing a hold of her hand, and squeezing it with all your might. You could feel your eyes start to slip away again, “I-I love you,” 

Your eyes shut as you slipped out into unconsciousness, “Dr. Wilson,” the paramedic said sternly, “She’s losing too much blood we got to get her to an OR,” 

“Right, yeah. Get her to OR one,” 

They placed you on the OR table as you were blacked out. The loss of blood making it too hard to stay awake. They hooked you up to the anesthesia before opening up your side.

“We’re ready Dr. Wilson,” the anesthesiologist said.

Her hands started to shake with the scalpel in her hand. Thoughts rushing through her mind. 

Focus Jo, just focus. 

But her thoughts wouldn’t quiet, “Dr. Wilson, is everything okay?”

She shook her head, “No, someone grab my phone and get Dr. Grey on the phone,” 

A nurse immediately grabbed her phone and dialed Dr. Grey, “Wilson, what’s going on?”

“I need you to get to the OR as soon as possible,” she said, her voice slightly cracking.

“I’m on my way,” 

Jo spotted Meredith walk into the OR, “I need you to do this procedure, please,” 

“Why?” Meredith asked as she immediately took Jo’s place, but Jo didn’t respond, “Wilson, if I’m going to take over for you I need to know why because this is a simple find the bleeder,” 

“This is Detective Y/N Y/L/N, she’s my-” Jo starts before the tears started getting choked up, “I don’t know what we are, I’d always avoid the conversation, but they-”

“They mean a lot to you,” Meredith finished and Jo nodded.

“Can I stay here with you? I don’t wanna leave their side,” Jo whispered.

“Only if you tell me about them,”

Jo pulled out a seat and watched as Meredith worked on you. She told Meredith everything about what was going on. 

“They always asked me about us and what I wanted us to be. They were always ready for a relationship, they wanted to make things official but I-I just couldn’t,” she whispered.

“What was holding you back?” Meredith said as she used the suction to take the bleeders out of you.

“I guess I was scared, Alex left and I met Y/N and I fell for them each more every day. The thought of losing them or I guess them abandoning me, I couldn’t take it,” Jo said, staring at your face. 

She ran her thumb over your cool skin and smiled at you with tears in her eyes, “Every time I left their apartment, I’d give them a kiss, and I’d say bye. Right as I shut the door I hear them call out and say ‘I love you! Go save some lives Supergirl!’. I never said it back, I need to say it back,” 

“And you’ll be able to, they’re stable. We’ll take them to the ICU and they’ll be able recover nicely,” Meredith replied as she stitched you up, “Just make sure you tell them this time,” 

You awoke to the sound of soft beeping noises and a bright light on your face. The familiar weight that’s usually on top of you when you woke up was right there. 

Your eyes fluttered opened as you see that you’re at Grey Sloan Memorial. The familiar weight was indeed Jo, sleeping peacefully on your chest in her navy blue scrubs. 

“Jo,” you whispered and she stirred awake looking up at you.

“You’re awake,” she whispered, holding you even tighter.

You let out a soft groan, “Ouch love, that’s the wound,” 

“Oops sorry love!” she exclaimed once more and you laughed softly.

“It’s okay. Not that I’m complaining, but I’m surprised you’re on top of me. I know we’ve been keeping us a secret,” you asked, kind of confused. 

She looked at you with a guilty look in her eyes, “I'm sorry. I was scared, after Alex, I didn’t think I’d find love again. But then you, you came, and every day I fell in love with you more and more. I never wanted to talk about what we were because the thought of you abandoning me like everyone else did killed me. So I thought if there’s no label and you leave I won’t get hurt,”

“But then I heard the paramedics ID you and the thought of losing you without telling you how much I love you killed me more. I can’t lose you Y/N,” she whispered, “I love you so much and I can’t lose the person who put me back together,” 

You cupped her cheeks softly and kissed her sweetly. As soon as you pulled away you placed your foreheads together, “So we’re dating?” you teased and she laughed softly before nodding, “I love you so much. I’m not going anywhere,”

“Good,” she kissed you once more, “Just please no more jumping in front of bullets,”

“What? You can’t be the only one who saves lives,” you teased, but you could tell that she was being serious.

“I know that’s your job, but seriously love you weren’t even off the clock. I need you with me,” 

“Then with you is where I’m going to be,” you kissed her forehead before she settled back into your arms, holding you tighter than ever before.

[wh6res]

WHEN YOU FIND OUT HE HAS AN ONLYFANS BC HE ACCIDENTALLY CASTED HIS LAPTOP SCREEN TO THE SMART TV

feat. the ‘00 line : tw suggestive

✰ — RENJUN is mortified. wtf his screen turned black right as he was cropping off his face from the video of himself masturbating in the car, where he does most of his onlyfans content bc duh he can’t do it in the apartment. you were always straight home after classes. a homebody. he cant just splay himself on the bed and moan and whine loudly to his heart’s content or else you’ll hear him and god no he’d rather die than you finding out he has an onlyfans. but just as he was furiously pressing the space button of his laptop to get it work somehow, your head pokes inside the door. “uhm, renjun i think you accidentally casted your screen on the tv” “ha ha what? no i did not” and right on cue, he hears the very distinct “ugh baby bet you want this cock in your mouth don’t you? i do too” coming from the living room and his cheeks were tinged red when he fell to his knees. “yn please let me explain!”

✰ — JENO is proud. you and him are quite close, he wouldn’t call it being bestfriends but still, he’s comfortable in your presence and so are you with him. its not that he’s keeping his onlyfans a secret, it’s just you never really asked anyway so he didn’t tell you anything. you and him were chilling in the living room like always. just you getting some readings done on the coffee table while he edits his pictures on the sofa. he had his earphones on and everything and was just doing quick last touchups for this latest nude pic he’s going to post tonight. just when his laptop screen turned black, the smart tv opened on its own, you and jeno’s eyes widened questioningly until there it was. his nude pic; standing before the gym’s locker room mirror, holding his hard dick on one hand, phone on the other, with his tongue teasingly peaking out. “okay but can i see the real thing right now?” jeno doesn’t let the shock paint his features. simply, he smirks.“fine but no drooling”

✰ — HAECHAN is shameless. he’d be kinda confused as to why his laptop’s screen suddenly turned black on him while he’s editing the audio for a new video he’ll be uploading in the weekend. he’d be plugging up his laptop charger bc he thought the device was drained, until he heard slick sounds and his moans coming from the living room. where you were. holy shit. when he bolts out his room, he finds you choking on your chips, sat upright on the couch as you can’t even take your eyes off the screen. he was going to apologize but when he saw the pink tinge on your cheeks and the way your legs clenched as you watched the video of him jerking himself off, he didn’t feel sorry. “are you that fascinated that you can’t take your eyes off my cock, baby? there’s more where that came from” and when you shyly waddled inside his room well... “hey wanna make a sex video with me? we can split the money”

✰ — JAEMIN is clueless. so like jeno, jaem over here isn’t going crazy trying to keep his onlyfans a secret. he wanted to tell you initially about it but the topic was never breached in everyday conversation until eventually he forgot to tell you about it completely. he had been streaming live that night until his toe might’ve accidentally pressed the button that said screencast just as he was about to cum all over his hands. meanwhile you in the living room, raised an eyebrow when the movie cuts and you see him on screen, right when he says “i wish you were here with me. your pussy would feel amazing choking my cock” when his stream was over, he hears a knock on his bedroom door and he immediately put his pjs back on before opening it. “hey jaem thanks for free content, thats some good stuff you have there. maybe i can join in sometime, okay thats all i have to say! bye~” “uh wait hold tf up what do you mean”

✰ — YANGYANG is relieved. okay so yeah he’s keeping it a secret but only because from what he remembers, you were always more on the conservative side. bb is scared you might kick him out if you find out he’s a content creator at onlyfans. okay definitely, his secret keeping needs a little bit of work because he literally left the tab open, right on his profile. you and him were working on a project together and you had insisted he casts his laptop screen on the tv for the presentation file and boiiiii he accidentally casted the wrong tab omfg im dying. his fingers trembled trying to find the uncast button as the most recent video he posted autoplayed “hey babe, you back? daddy’s been waiting for such a long time i missed your sweet pussy” but he pauses when he hears you laughing. “omg yangyang! i cant believe you have a daddy kink wtf!” well at the end of the day, he’s just relieved he doesn’t have to hide it from you anymore and he can still live here.

✰ — SHOTARO is cheeky. okay if yalls think he’s going to be all innocent and embarrassed and soft uwu about the whole thing lmao hell no. i dont think he is. i bet he’s hiding all that sexayyy charisma under that cute face and it’s also probably why he’d have a hoard of people on his onlyfans. addicted to the contrast of that cute, soft voice of his going deep and domineering when the led lights in his room turn red. okay so you were running around the room almost late to your appointment when he “accidentally” hits screencast on his laptop. and suddenly the smart tv opened and he tried gulping down his laughter when you literally stopped in your tracks and watched the video of him unfold. “i bet baby’s laying down right now with her fingers shoved inside her cunny, getting off at the sight of my cock, hm slut?” your eyes widened like saucers and shit your pussy just clenched. “taro wtf is that-that you?” “i don’t know, why don’t you come here and find out, baby?”

headcanon reqs are open bitches !! had so much fun making this lmao idk alot abt onlyfans so im sorry if some of the details are wrong :'>

[emwritesfootball]

Bad Influence | Erling Haaland

i'm in an angsty mood and you are my victim :D , maybe angsty one with Erling, where he introduced you to his friends for the first time and after that, like a week later, Erling meet up with his friends without you and they start to be bad influence on your relationship by telling Erling he should be more "the man" in the relationship and that you shouldn't have male friends bc they think it's wrong, Erling starts listening to them and acts different with you, at first you ignored it bc you're confused where this is coming from but after some time you two fighting about it

Word Count: 1,134

Warnings: just angst and Erling being a dumbass

- - -

You’d thought meeting his friends back home in Norway had gone incredibly well. Dinner and drinks were fun; you’d talked and laughed and listened to stories about Erling that you hadn’t heard. You hadn’t thought anything was wrong, but apparently they had.

A week later, Erling met up with them on his break without you. You didn’t mind because you had a lot to do and you wanted to get to explore the city without him. What you hadn’t expected was for him to come back a little bit different.

It wasn’t a big change, at least not right away. He made little off-hand comments whenever you were talking to your male friends until he went so far as to tell you you couldn’t speak to them. You tried to reason with him but he kept insisting that he should step up and be more of the man in the relationship, and it was all downhill from there.

Where there was once a caring and doting boyfriend, now there was a cold-hearted angry boy so desperately trying to be a man. You were confused at first but that confusion quickly turned to anger.

“I don’t understand! I’m going out with some of my girls and a few of my guy friends. How is that a problem!” You cursed, frustrated.

“It is a problem when they hit on you and you flirt with them!”

“Who says I flirt with them?! They know their place in my life and it’s platonic. You never cared before, Erling - why now?”

He cursed in Norwegian, shaking his head. “Fine. Go do what you want, just don’t come crying to me when your night is terrible.”

You went out with your friends, getting stupid-drunk and screaming about Erling to anyone who would listen. When you woke up the next morning with the hangover to end all hangovers, you didn’t remember much except for your friends complaining about his friends. They suggested that Erling’s friends were the problem and in your drunken haze you’d agreed with them. Now, you weren’t so sure, but you decided to keep a close eye on things for a little while.

A week later when Erling was going out with his friends, you tagged along. Everything seemed to be fine. Sure, you were different than you’d been a month ago when you’d first met them, but you didn’t think it made much difference… until you overheard them.

You were coming out of the bathroom when you heard them talking and laughing. The plants concealed you and you hated that you were going to eavesdrop but you needed to know.

“She’s different this time,” one of his friends said.

“Yeah, looks like you finally tamed her into someone worthy of being Erling Haaland’s girlfriend,” another one of them said.

Erling laughed and you could see him nodding between the leaves of the plant. “I just took your advice and it looks like it’s working. She put up a fight at first but I made her realize just how lucky she is to be with someone like me and now here we are.”

Your blood ran cold at his words, all the puzzle pieces falling into place. It now made sense why he had been so adamant about you finding new friends or ‘making better choices’ when it came to nitpicky things like clothes or Instagram captions. You realized that you’d changed for him from being the confident woman who spoke your mind to the meek little girl who sought her man’s approval - someone you’d never wanted to become.

Without a word, you returned to the table, docile and calm on the outside while a storm brewed underneath. You didn’t let it out until you and Erling were alone.

“I hate who you’ve become.”

“What?” Erling turned to look at you. Your words had come out of nowhere as the two of you relaxed from dinner and he wasn’t ready for it.

“Do I really need to repeat myself?” You sighed, shaking your head. “I hate who you’ve become, Erling. You’ve turned into this insecure boy who worries about where I am at all times and who I’m with. I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s killing us. I miss the boyfriend who treated me like a princess and told me I was beautiful every chance he got.”

“That boy was weak,” Erling mumbled, his expression hard. “I’m a man now.”

“Oh, so it’s weak to treat your girl like a person now?!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“No, it’s weak to let you lead me around like a show pony just so you can get the title of Erling Haaland’s Girlfriend.”

“You really think I did that?! You really think I only like you for what you can give me? Wow, Erling, I didn’t think you were that insecure. I’ve never asked you to pay for me or give me gifts; all I ever wanted was your companionship and to have you treat me like a girl that you wanted. If I’m not that girl anymore, just let me know so that I can leave while I have some dignity left.”

“No! No, please don’t go.” Erling was frantic now as it all started to come crashing down around him. “My friends are idiots and they thought they knew what was best for me.”

“I can’t believe you listened to them without talking to me first! One minute we were happy and in a loving relationship and the next I’m being controlled by a boy who thinks that makes him a man.” You stood up, your mind making the decision for you. “I think it’s best we spend some time apart, at least until the season starts next month. You can make sure that being with me is something that you truly want.”

Erling looked up at you from his position on the couch, tears welling up in his eyes. “No. Please, no. I want to be with you.”

“Then you can reflect on all the reasons why you fell for me in the first place and know how to be better if we get back together.”

“When. When we get back together. Not if.”

You gave him a small smile, stepping into him to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Okay. Goodbye for now, Erling.”

He squeezed you tight, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck that had your heart breaking for him. “Please don’t go. Spend one more night with me. I’ll be better, I swear.”

You untangled yourself from him, trying to keep a strong front so neither of you fell apart anymore than you already had. “I’ll see you in a month, Erling.”

There won’t be a second part to this.

[harrysgoldenline]

When In Italy - Part 2

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: um not sure, I think there are bad words so sorry? also again not proofread bc I am lazy. 

Note: PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINKING ABOUT ME DOING PERSONALIZED IMAGINES/BLURBS! PLEASE TALK TO ME ABOUT THEM!

Part 1

There will be a part 3!!! All comments/feedback is encouraged :)

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

You didn’t dare to turn your back, hands shaking as you felt his presence behind you, his footsteps approaching closer as you desperately tried to make it into the guest room as quickly as possible. 

“I’m sorry.” you barely get out, trying to keep your voice strong, “I-I’ll pack and clean up the glass and I’ll get out of your way.”

“Can you look at me so we can talk about this?”

“No” You say with an exhale, shaking your head as your knuckles turned white with your tight grip you had on a pair of sweats you were throwing into your bed, “no, I can’t.”

You just hear him sigh, knowing him well enough to picture how he ran his hair through his hair and pinched the bridge of his nose, something he always did when he was frustrated. You wondered if she knew that too, wondered how he could just be with someone so quickly after everything you’ve been through together. 

“You’re staying. This is your home as much as it’s mine.” He said, getting closer to you and pulling the suitcase back, “we can just… I don’t know, we’ll figure something out, you stay and we can maybe just stay in the main-”

“Are you serious?” You snap, interrupting him with angry eyes, gripping a shirt between your hands tighter as your hands shake, “you want me to stay in this house that we bought together, while you are down the hall sharing a bed with another woman? How could you even… are you insane?”

“You’re right.” He sighed, running his hands along his face, “You’re right, I’m sorry… I just, I don’t know.”

Your eyes were glued to the bed, trying to not look at him as you felt your bottom lip start to shake, seeing him in his peripheral vision and you wished nothing more than to just disappear, or wake up from this nightmare.

“Please…” he whispered, “y/n… I-I, can we please talk?”

“About what, Harry?” 

“I don't know… us? I haven’t seen you since…”

“Us?” You scoffed, bottom lip beginning to wobble again before you bit down hard on it, “haven’t seen me since we broke up. We were together for years and now you’re already with someone else? I just… I think I’m gonna go find a hotel.”

Harry quickly chases after you, coming up behind you and reaching up, arm brushing against your shoulder as he reaches in front of you and closes the door, leaving you trapped between it and his body, eyes falling to the floor, refusing to turn around and face him. 

“Please, just let me go, Harry.” 

He stood silently behind you, hand still against the door and when you looked up you instantly noticed he was still wearing the ring you got for him on your two year anniversary. You could remember the way he looked at you, a wide smile as he instantly slid it on his finger and you could feel it as he held your cheek, pressing a hard kiss on your lips. 

You wondered how much she knew about you, if the ring was from you, if she knew the house belonged to both of you. You didn’t want to hate her, you didn’t even know her but you couldn’t help but feel angry at her, angry at her for having him. 

Harry's hand fell from the door, his fingers brushing yours as he pulled the handle of the suitcase from your hands as you still stood frozen and he put it on the bed, unzipping and pulling a few things out before you could hear the soft creak of the bed falling under his weight and you two sat in silence for a few moments as you still stood frozen at the door, wishing you could just disappear. 

“I’ll get out of your way, y/n, but please don’t feel like you have to leave.” He softly spoke, “…know how much ya love it here, so please don’t feel like you have to leave because of me. The drivers on the way back and I’m already getting a room at a hotel. You stay, okay?”

You slowly nodded, looking down at your hands, picking at you nails before slowly turning around, meeting his eyes instantly as he was already looking at you and offered you a soft smile.You let out a shaky sigh, making your way to the balcony and quickly walking past him, figuring he would just walk straight out of the room now that you weren’t standing in the way. 

Yet, he sat still. Sitting on the bed as you stood against the railing on the balcony, closing your eyes and feeling your muscles relax as the cool, soft breeze hits your skin, the smell of the ocean making you sigh, wondering if you’ll wake up on the beach where you were sat a few hours prior, but you were met with the bittersweetness of the beautiful view in front of you, with the burning presence of your ex-boyfriend still behind you. 

You shivered in the presence of another, stronger breeze, your hair still slightly wet from the bath not helping keep your body any warmer. Pushing through, you stood your ground, still not hearing the sound of footsteps or the door opening you didn’t dare to risk looking over your shoulder to even see if he had left, you knew he was there.

What you didn’t know though, was he was approaching, stealthily walking up behind you and placing a warm, knit blanket over your shoulders causing you to jump, the sudden contact of the seafoam material coming around your shoulders and large hands giving them a squeeze before leaving your skin. 

“The car is here.” He spoke softly, coming up and standing next to you against the railing as he knew you weren’t going to turn and look at him, “I would love to see you tomorrow if that’s somethin’ you’re comfortable with, I’d love to catch up.” 

“I don’t know, Harry.” You retorted, voice soft as you hugged the blanket closer to your body, hoping he will sense your thanks without having to say it, “Maybe, I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea for me to actually catch up with you for the first time with her, I’m sorry I just don’t know if I’m read-“ 

“It would just be us two, I just want to talk.” He spoke, seeing him turn his head and look at you in your peripheral vision, “We haven’t spoken in so long, used to talk everyday. I’d like to know how you’re doing, what you’ve been up to if that’s okay.”

“Okay.” 

“Breakfast tomorrow? I can have someone come pick you up at 10? Know you don’t like waking up early.” 

You let out a soft laugh and you slowly looked over at him, your smile growing slightly when you saw him let out a soft laugh too and you felt like you were transported back in time, a better time. Your eyes met, staring into each other's eyes probably a few moments too long before you turned the other way, looking back towards the view and nodded.

“Okay.”

Harry nodded, leaning against the railing before pushing himself back and shoving his hands deep in his pockets. He stepped closer to you for a moment and you saw him stutter step back just as quick and his hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. 

“Okay, um, well I’m gonna head out.” He spoke, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And just like that, he was gone all over again and you could hear the muffled sound of him explaining what was happening and you were thankful you couldn’t hear whatever kind of response she gave him. Shivering again, you walked back into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, looking at your phone on the nightstand and wondering if you should call (y/bff/n) and ask her if you should go to breakfast, ask her if you should stay in Italy or just go home. 

But you decided against it and just stared up at the ceiling, wondering how in the hell you got in this situation. Wondered how long he knew the woman that he was with, wondered what the status of their relationship was.

You tossed and turned in bed for what felt like hours and you couldn’t help but to pull that seafoam blanket closer to you as you cuddle it into your chest, hating yourself for wishing it smelt like him and you even thought about walking into the master bathroom, seeing if Harry still had that extra bottle of cologne stored in the cabinet but you didn’t let yourself give in.

Instead, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and went to go get yourself a glass of water, hoping it would clear your head long enough for you to fall asleep. Your feet padding softly against the floor was the only sound, thankful that they weren’t staying there but you couldn’t help the nausea that hit you when you thought about them staying at a romantic resort. 

You downed the glass as soon as you filled it up, standing by the fridge as you downed its contents before filling it up again, breathing slightly heavy as you focused on the water filling it back up and when you turned around you were met with a familiar photo, fingers running softly over the photo of Harry and his mom on the private beach, a bright smile covering their faces.

You then looked over at the hallway, seeing all that Harry had cleaned up the glass and frame you had knocked over.

 *** 

You hardly slept that night, tossing and turning all night, waking up every few hours and honestly a lot of just laying there, thinking over every single possibility. 

Now, you were trying on about your eighth outfit, trying different combinations and looks, not sure what to end up wearing. You’d hate to show up looking too nice for breakfast, but you also didn’t want to look too casual, or of course looking like a complete mess. 

What the hell are you supposed to wear to meet an ex boyfriend? 

You finally found the perfect outfit, something that made you feel cute but was still casual, making you also feel comfortable that it wasn’t going to look like you were trying too hard. That was the last thing you wanted. 

The knock on the door caused you to jump, glancing over at the clock and seeing that the driver was right on time and you quickly rushed over to the mirror, looking over your appearance quickly before grabbing your purse and rushing to the door with shaking hands. 

Swinging the door open your breath catches in your throat, body freezing and your eyes flash wildly to take in your surroundings, seeing Harry stand before you instead of the driver like you had expected. 

“Hey,” He said, giving you a quick smile, “I, uh, actually decided to pick up the car this morning so I thought I could come pick you up… if that's okay?” 

“Yeah” You squeak out and hesitantly nod, “yeah- um of course, that’s fine! Let me just, um, lock up.” 

He nodded and stepped back, giving you enough room to step outside and turn around to lock the door. You hopped down the steps, shoving the keys into your bed and headed to the car, eyes widening slightly as you saw Harry open up the passenger door for you, giving a soft thank you before sliding into the car, looking up at him through the window as he shut it and jogged over to the other side of the car and slide in next to you.

“You wanna go to Ristorante Principessa?” He asked with a wide smile, bringing up the breakfast place you two would go to almost everyday.

“I would love to.”

[arrowflier]

Prompt is anything about Mickey acknowledging that Ian’s past of sexual abuse still affects him, maybe during the 13% debacle when Mickey’s being mad and tells the family at breakfast, Ian gets sad and quiet instead of defensive cause he knows he misspoke but he doesn’t know how to explain the feeling of like not being whole and Tami schools Mickey private bc she knows a little bit how Ian feels?

Content warning: references to child abuse/ sexual abuse of a minor

"Guess who I ran into on the L yesterday?" Ian asked as he made for the coffee machine.

"Dunno man," Mickey answered from behind him, skating a hand over his hip as he moved to take a seat at the table. "Why were you on the fuckin' L anyway, where'd you go when I was hangin' with Sandy?"

He sat down between Carl and Tami--it was a full house this morning--and stole a piece of bacon off Carl's plate even as he hunched over it protectively.

"Oh you know," Ian said, "just headed over to that weekly gay orgy at the rec center."

Mickey flipped him off, but Tami chortled next to him. She handed him another slice of bacon in apology--off Carl's plate, not her own--and went back to feeding Fred.

"Alright, funny man," Mickey said as he chewed, "so who'd you see there then?"

"Linda," Ian answered, unphased. He didn't seem to notice the way Mickey's chewing slowed, or the way Carl abruptly straightened and pushed back from the table.

"Yeah," Ian continued, "she was back for some kind of hearing? Apparently Kash's new boyfriend called the cops on him or something."

Ian took a long sip of coffee, then frowned as he lowered the mug.

"He, uh," Ian started, then stopped to take another drink. "Linda said he found some pictures?”

Mickey stilled.

“What kind of pictures?” he asked suspiciously.  Carl took that as his cue to abandon ship, shoving the rest of his breakfast over toward Mickey as he hightailed it out of the room.  Tami stayed, stuck with a babbling Fred in his high chair and completely lost as to why the room was suddenly so tense.

“Of me, I think,” Ian answered quietly, not meeting Mickey’s eyes.  “Or some other boyfriend maybe?  I don’t know.”

“Another boyfriend,” Mickey parroted, and Ian shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said.  “I mean, I guess.”  He set his mug on the counter, braced himself against the edge with both hands.  “I kinda feel bad for him, you know?” he added.  “It’s not like he asked for stuff like that, I just sent it.”

Mickey’s hand hit the table hard enough to shake the cutlery.

"The fuck did you say?" he asked flatly.

Ian didn't react, but Tami froze next to him with a fork halfway to Fred’s mouth. Mickey ignored her stare.

"You really just tell me you feel bad for that fucker?" Mickey continued, voice rising. "The guy that fuckin' molested you? The guy that shot me cause you dared to fuck someone your own fucking age?"

Ian was quiet. Too quiet, and it hurt to see the way he bit his lip and looked away, like he couldn't face it. Couldn't face the truth--couldn’t face Mickey, either.

"Mickey," Tami murmured, slowly lowering her fork to her plate with a muffled click, "maybe you shouldn't--"

"No," Mickey said firmly, cutting her off. "What I should do is track that fucker down and cut off his fucking dick, so he can’t touch another teenage kid for the rest of his goddamned life.”

“That’s what I should do,” he went on, ignoring the way Tami waved at him frantically under the table.  “But Ian here,” he said, “wouldn’t want that, would he?  Cause Ian thinks Kash loved him, and he won’t fuckin’ admit his first boyfriend was a disgusting-ass pedophilic bastard.”

Ian shoved himself back from the counter, and stormed from the kitchen.  A second later, the front door slammed, and Mickey collapsed back into his chair in resgination.

Before he could feel too sorry for himself, Tami intervened.

"Dude," Tami hissed next to him. Mickey looked over to see her scrunched face, her lip curled. "Are you really shaming him for that right now?"

“The fuck you know about it?” he muttered.  Even Fred seemed to be judging him, that chubby little face pouting, and Mickey didn’t like it one bit.

“I know enough,” Tami said, then sighed.

“Look,” she started slowly.  “I don’t know anything about this Kash guy or whatever, alright?  But it sounds like Ian was just a kid when they got involved.”

“Barely even old enough to do anything, probably,” Mickey groused.  “Bastard picked him up as soon as he fuckin’ saw him.”

“And it went on for a while?” Tami guessed, and raised her hands when Mickey looked at her suspiciously.

“Hey, I’m just getting my facts straight,” she defended.  “But if you ask me, Ian’s got more on his mind with this than whether or not his old boss is a good guy.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Mickey asked.  “He’s had plenty of fuckin’ time to think about this shit, he ought to hate that guy’s guts by now.”

Tami bit her lip, but persevered.

“I know,” she said softly, “because it took me even longer, okay?”

At Mickey’s curious glance, she expanded.

“There was this teacher,” she told him, not meeting his eyes.  “And he made me think I was special.”

Tami laughed, a short, sharp sound, and shook her head.

“He paid attention to me, is more like it,” she admitted.  “And I ate that shit right up, because God knows my dad didn’t back then.  And it never even occurred to me that what we had was wrong.”

She finally looked up.

“Then he brought his new girlfriend by,” she said.  “His new, teenage girlfriend.  And he said all the same things, and she ate it up, too.”

Mickey just watched her.

“So yeah, I get it,” she finished, tracing a scratch on the table with one finger.  “And what Ian needs right now?  Is not your fucking judgement.”

She stood abruptly, her chair screeching as it scraped back, and scooped Fred out of his seat.

"You should think about what he's going through right now," she said as she settled Fred on her hip. "Instead of how it makes you feel."

She moved toward the back door, opened it, then paused.

"Because being confronted with the truth isn't easy," she added. "And he might be a victim, but he doesn't want to be."

Then she was gone, the kitchen silent, just Mickey sitting there at the table with two rapidly cooling plates of eggs and bacon that weren't even his.

"Well, fuck," he said to himself. Then he levered himself up, and made for the front door

---

As it turned out, Ian hadn't gone far. As soon as Mickey opened the door, there he was: hunched over right there on the steps, head in his hands.

Mickey sat next to him without speaking. Ian shifted over to make room, but otherwise didn't acknowledge him.

"Hey," Mickey started hesitantly. Then he swallowed, wiped sweaty hands on his thighs, and tried again.

"I'm sorry."

Ian didn't bother to lift his head.

"For what?" he asked tiredly. "I mean, you were right."

"I was?" Mickey responded, then cleared his throat. "I was," he repeated more confidently, then, " but I still shouldn't have fucking said it."

Ian sighed, and straightened. "It's okay," he said, smiling weakly. "Kash was an asshole, I know he was. And I know it was wrong, now, but I just..."

Ian stopped, shook his head.

"Never mind," he muttered. "You wouldn't get it."

Mickey inched closer. He raised an arm to wrap around Ian's shoulders, and thought about the bright-eyed kid he fell for all those years ago, ignored by his family and utterly devoted to a man that should have known better.

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed softly, squeezing Ian's shoulders and stroking that hand down his arm in a gentle caress.

"But tell me anyway."