#the others are taking a well-deserved rest in the drawer

[kon-konk]

They're here! Everything but the poster (which I know will be shipped a bit later) is here!

Now for the dilemma I didn't anticipate... Figuring out which backpack to use first

I lost Fizzarolli for a little bit because I was looking in my keychains drawer for him but I...put him on my keys already. Y'know, like the #1 place you should expect to find a keychain

[baldval]

VALENTINE'S DAY W HAZBIN!₊˚⊹♡

characters: vox, charlie, valentino, lucifer, adam, lute, alastor

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, slightly suggestive content if you're reading adam.

VOX:

𖹭 the place is absolutely decorated when you get up in the morning.

𖹭 i'm talking heart balloons, flowers, and rose petals all across the floor.

𖹭 when you come into the living room, he's still in his jammies and sitting on the couch.

𖹭 you loved when he looked like that, so carefree, a contrast from his usual self.

𖹭 "Vox, what's all this?" you ask smiling

𖹭 "it's all for you, obviously."

𖹭 he stands up and walks towards you, he lifts you up and spins you around.

𖹭 you place your hands on his chest as he gently lowers you back to the floor.

𖹭 "you deserve the entire world," he whispers.

𖹭 he plants a kiss on your lips and you instantly blush.

𖹭 with a foolish smile, he wishes you a happy Valentine's Day.

𖹭 you give him lots of kisses, leaving marks all across the screen.

𖹭 you say, "I have something for you."

𖹭 "you do?"

𖹭 "duh" you chuckle

𖹭 you were aware that Vox had his eye on this watch.

𖹭 it had this gorgeous crimsom strap that matched his tie. 𖹭 when he notices it, all he does is look at you. 𖹭 love obscuring his vision 𖹭 he's amazed that you're his. 𖹭 and he feels quite fortunate. 𖹭 he carefully places the watch on the counter. 𖹭 then gives you a kiss so intense you almost feel like you're actually in heaven.

CHARLIE:

𖹭 when you walk in to your room, there are roses on your desk.

𖹭 with an enormous chocolate box of course

𖹭 and a, quite long, love letter

𖹭 the fact that she can't wait to just see you and be able to actually hold you

𖹭 you're grinning broadly to yourself.

𖹭 and you joyfully shove chocolate after chocolate into your lips.

𖹭 she doesn't meet you in the lobby, like you thought she would.

𖹭 she appears at your room.

𖹭 "hi, babe," she exclaims, excited.

𖹭 she approaches and greets you with a kiss.

𖹭 "thank you so much for everything. you say to her, "I have something for you too, you know."

𖹭 she is unable to remove her lips from yours.

𖹭 you take something out of a desk drawer as you pull her into your lap. 𖹭 you pry it open, and she lets out a half-gasp.

𖹭 you were able to get her a unique, gorgeous necklace. 𖹭 at the center is a quite shiny heart. 𖹭 you help her put it on, and the chain fits neatly around her clavicle. 𖹭 she has what is probably the biggest smile you've ever seen. 𖹭 from now on you notice, she never, ever removes the necklace.

VALENTINO:

𖹭 extravagant king.

𖹭 his name is literally Valentine so of course he'll take the day off for you.

𖹭 you and him are hand in hand on a pier.

𖹭 he's obviously wearing his best clothes, and of course you are too.

𖹭 before you know it, it's just the two of you on a small yacht.

𖹭 and the necessary employees, but they're not the main focus.

𖹭 he lavishes you with presents

𖹭 chocolate, that perfect piece of jewelry, and a tiny plush animal that he says reminded you of him

𖹭 you share a meal on the balcony while chatting and having fun.

𖹭 all while playing footsie beneath the table.

𖹭 he seems to be focusing solely on you when you talk to him.

𖹭 because he really is, staring at you with adoration.

𖹭 with your backs against each other, you sit in the living room.

𖹭 your head resting on his shoulder while his fingers comb through your hair

𖹭 he breathes steadily and deeply.

𖹭 "i wouldn't really mind if this was all we did for the rest of our lives," he says

𖹭 you plant a kiss on his shoulder while gazing out to sea.

𖹭 "that wouldn't bother me either,"

𖹭 in some way, he draws you even nearer to him.

𖹭 he kisses your face all over

𖹭 "well that's great. since you're everything to me."

LUCIFER:

𖹭 truly a hopeless romantic

𖹭 his pissing in his underwear while waiting for you.

𖹭 you open the door and say hello to him.

𖹭 the ceiling and walls are illuminated by candlelight, creating a dim atmosphere.

𖹭 there are rose petals all over the path that leads to the living room.

𖹭 you walk slowly towards him.

𖹭 he's kinda just standing there.

𖹭 and it's pretty obvious he's nervous.

𖹭 he grabs hold of your hands and draws you in.

𖹭 "hey," he says, his voice cracking right away.

𖹭 "i missed you," you say

𖹭 he murmurs back, "yeah, I missed you too, so much."

𖹭 for a small instant, he remains silent.

𖹭 but he goes on after that.

"i love you so much, and i know we've talked about how we both want to get married. and, i'll be honest, i can't imagine my life without you, and i'm just so... so in love with you, and I'm sorry, I'm rambling, it's just-" he stops suddenly, taking a deep breath.

𖹭 as he drops to one knee, his hands follow your hips and sides. 𖹭 he takes out a tiny velvet box from inside his coat. 𖹭 you have mentioned getting married before. 𖹭 and you are well aware that he is pretty much your soulmate. 𖹭 and it's Valentine's Day, so of course, he's popping the question. 𖹭 and you naturally answer: "yes". 𖹭 he stands up rapidly, your lips colliding with his. 𖹭 he tightens his grasp around the small of your back. 𖹭 he will always hold onto you.

ADAM:

𖹭 the sun began to set on valentine's day.

𖹭 adam, as charming as they come, is dressed to impress.

𖹭 he strutted alongside you as you walked towards a bench.

𖹭 the bench had this incredible view of the sea.

𖹭 adam sat down right beside you, your thighs touching.

𖹭 the times where adam was in silence were not many, yet always impactful.

𖹭 you stared at the sun as he stared at you.

𖹭 his eyes were fixated on your face, analysing your features.

𖹭 "why are you looking at me like that?" you're blushing.

𖹭 "i got something for you." he avoids your gaze now.

𖹭 clearly, adam is not used to vulnerability.

𖹭 and there was something about him being with you that just made him feel seen.

𖹭 he takes out a small box.

𖹭 "it's nothing really" he says as you open it.

𖹭 inside there's a mixtape.

𖹭 you read the names of the songs, not recognising any.

𖹭 "are these yours?" he nods.

𖹭 "the last one is named after you, actually"

𖹭 you look at him, eyes wide open, surprised at his gesture.

𖹭 with a sly smile and a playful roll of your eyes, you leaned in to steal a kiss, your heart fluttering with excitement.

𖹭 "who knew the first guy to ever exist would be such a romantic?" you teased, unable to hide the fondness in your voice.

𖹭 "you should play the mixtape as we fuc-"

𖹭 "of course you had to ruin it" you chuckle as he smirks.

𖹭 he wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lay your head on his chest.

LUTE:

𖹭 she gives you several quick kisses to wake you up.

𖹭 "hey, sleepyhead. i need you up.

𖹭 you blink away the sleepiness, as she continues to plant lips on your cheeks and jaw.

𖹭 "come on, babe, we have a reservation," she whines.

𖹭 "a reservation, huh?"

𖹭 "yes, please get up right now."

𖹭 she puts on a sharp dress shirt and matching dress pants.

𖹭 she gives you a bouquet of your favorite flower as you meet her at the door.

𖹭 she takes one of the flowers, clips it, and tucks it behind your ear.

𖹭 you then walk to a close cafe, arm in arm.

𖹭 it isn't really that fancy but it is beautiful.

𖹭 the place is filled with tulips and it smells like what you figured spring would smell like.

𖹭 in a quiet space, a table is already prepared for the two of you.

𖹭 you two laugh while eating breakfast.

𖹭 you two could chat for hours on end and never get bored.

ALASTOR:

𖹭 he's just getting started with all of this relationship stuff.

𖹭 he had no one to share valentine's with before to this year.

𖹭 thus, he is anxious and perplexed.

𖹭 but of course he will do everything in his power to hide it, keeping his smile to appear calm.

𖹭 after work, he brings a bouquet home with him.

𖹭 they are your favourite colour and flower.

𖹭 because of course he knows every single thing that you love.

𖹭 and he brings cake instead of chocolate.

𖹭 "aw, Alastor." you blush

𖹭 "well, i didn't find any chocolate boxes shaped like hearts, but i did find a cake shaped like a heart."

𖹭 you chuckle

𖹭 but it doesn't truly bother you

𖹭 quietly, he says, "i made sure to get your favorite flavor, and i swear there's no human parts in this"

𖹭 "it may not be much, but it is what I could find,"

𖹭 you interrupted him with a kiss.

𖹭 "Alastor" you say his name and his eyes flutter.

𖹭 "i don't think you could ever guess how happy you make me"

𖹭 he feels like his heart is trying to burst out of his chest. 𖹭 he draws you into a close embrace. 𖹭 you spend the evening eating cake and snuggling on the couch.

[mistywaves98]

Just this one thought that I had in my head and has been sitting in my drafts for a long time

Step bro! Scara who fucks you in front of the mirror... ¡Warnings!: NSFW, Stepcest, Mean-ish Scara, Belly bulge, Possible dubcon turned consensual(?), Proceed with caution!

It really wasn't what it looked like! You were just trying to find that book he 'borrowed' from you and never returned and you opened one of his dresser's drawers only to find a bunch of his underwear! It was truly an accident, but that's not what Scaramouche thought when he barged through the door, only to be met with the sight of you frantically trying to close the drawer. But what else was he supposed to think as he sneaked up behind you, arms curling around your waist as he teased you for being such a naughty step sis. You deserved punishment, right?

And that's how you found yourself bend over the same furnishing, getting your pussy pounded by his dick. His chest was flush against your sweaty back still covered by your jersey that he was too lazy to remove, his mouth right by your ear, allowing you to hear all the dirty whispers and groans as your walls clamped around him. "You're such a pervert, y'know that? Looking through your step brother's drawers like a creep. Were you hoping to steal one of my boxers to get your slutty pussy off later, hm? I bet you were."

Scaramouche grinned as one hand grabbed a clump of your hair, pulling your head back roughly as you moaned from the stinging sensation. He used the sight of your now exposed neck as an opportunity to sink his teeth into the tender skin, sucking and biting the flesh till a purple-red mark was left. He continues to leave hickeys all over your neck, occasionally groaning as your pussy squeezed his cock a bit tighter whenever his canines brushed a particularly sensitive spot.

Your palms were pressed against the glass of the mirror which was now fogged up from your excessive panting, body rocking against the coarse wood of the dresser. The movement causing some of his belongings resting atop it to clatter onto the ground, but Scaramouche couldn't care less. "Fucking hell— you're taking me so easily, like a whore... God—! Keep moaning like that f'me. You're lucky mom and dad aren't home yet..." He hisses into your ear, giving your ass a sharp slap before slamming his hips against yours, his tip painfully piercing your cervix.

You tried to apologize, even though you really didn't need to, but your step brother merely laughed as he continued to rail you into oblivion. Your inner thighs were a mess of your own slick mixed with his own and it only worsened with each thrust, the constant squelching resonating clearly in your ears and making you blush. The knot in your stomach was tightening, indicating your impending orgasm.

Scaramouche could feel his own climax approaching as well and it only prompted him to be rougher with you. One hand remained in your hair, the other rubbing a couple circles around your clit to make you whine before moving up to grasp the hem of your top, pulling it up and shoving it into your mouth. Your eyes widened as he exposed your torso, making you bite down on the fabric, saliva soaking it instantly. He fixed your gaze onto the mirror, making you watch just how lewd you appeared through the blur.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as your eyes fell to the prominent bulge in your stomach no doubt formed by his girthy cock. The way it moved in and out of you made your eyes roll back, causing him to grin in response,"hmm? You enjoying the view? Look at your body, on display like a slut..." Even you couldn't deny how erotic it was, the scene looking like it was straight out of a porn film. Suddenly, your breath hitched as his slender fingers abruptly pressed down on the bump, making you wail as your cum coated the base of his cock.

Scaramouche moaned in delight at the sight of his adorable little step sister gushing around him, the sight enough to make him pull out as he came all over your lower back. The both of you remained in the same position for a while, trying to catch your breaths as the exhaustion caught up with both of you. Just then, you could've sworn that you heard the front door unlock...

[komelliko]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader (now with aventurine!)

summary: Days after the dinner with Sunday, Aventurine decides to check in on you for his own reasons. wc: 1k part 3 (nsfw) / part 4 / part 5

---

"Hey! How's it going, doll?"

"—Venny!"

Aventurine strode over, swinging a watch chain idly in his hands. Whatever hung from its ends was far too small to be a conventional pocketwatch from the way he twisted it between his fingers, but the circular case was still rather ornately decorated. Of course, it only made sense that a man like Aventurine would be dripping in gold, useful items or otherwise.

"Has Feather-head been sending you all over the place again?" Aventurine asked. "Come on, I can get being a busybody here and there, but you really overdo it sometimes."

You laugh, shrinking into yourself a little. "Oh, a job's a job..." you digress. He raises his brows, accepting your statement but not entirely convinced. The way he props his arm up on the nearby table almost makes it seem like he's hovering over you a little. ...But there's something friendly in his eyes, so you pay it no mind.

"Say, I wouldn't mind taking you out for a drink or two one of these days. If there's a single person in Penacony who needs it, it'd be you. Aeons know I've got money to spend."

You chuckle, eyes still timidly askance. "Don't trouble yourself with me, Venny. I'm sure you've got much better things to do." "I'm being' square with you, babe, believe me!" He laughs. "I wanna hear all about what that boss of yours is putting you through. You can vent to a friend, can't you, doll?" Perhaps the fact that your face drops gives a little too much away. Now you're looking away to hide the blush on your face, mortified with yourself. "He's not as bad as you'd think," you stammer through your teeth. "Honestly, he probably thinks I work too much." It's not as if it technically isn't true. Sunday's flippancy over dinner all those days ago made that much clear. "Then he's got no right to balk about you taking the day off, now does he?" You sigh, rolling your eyes. "You know what, sure," you smile. "Let me get everything put back in my office, and I'll meet you somewhere." Aventurine clicks his teeth, shooting finger guns at you before the two of you part ways.

... ... ... ...

When you usually open the door to your office, you tend to close it behind you in a very deliberate way, keeping your back pressed up against the door. It's not as if you enjoy the little cage (that's often what it feels like, with the columns of gold that run up the walls across the floor to meet in the center), but it serves its purpose. It keeps your papers in, and it keeps the world out.

Usually. "Mister Sunday?" You've never seen Sunday move as fast as he does when he stands up from opening the drawers in your desk. It's almost uncanny watching his face as he's caught off his guard for the slightest moment, almost staring in wonder at you standing there. "[Y/N]," he marvels. "What a surprise." You should be asking what he's doing there, and furthermore why he needed to be going through your desk to do it... But Sunday was your boss. All of the papers in there were going to be sent to him anyways, and that's all you have in the desk—papers, stamps, official stationery. You'd heard of some that would fill their desk drawers with more personal items, but that had never been your style. "I was just looking for you, sir," you lie, hanging up your bag on the coat rack by the door. "I was going the ask for the rest of the day off." Sunday lights up. Clearly he'd gotten through to you the other night, he reasons. You had always been oh so very shy about your affections towards him, he was sure of it—So how else would you ask for more time with him than to ask it like this? "Of course, dear," Sunday smiles. "You've worked so hard this past week, you only deserve some time to yourself. You can have the rest of the week off if you'd like that as well." Surprised, your eyes widen at the offer. "That's quite generous of you, Mr. Sunday. I don't think that's necessary." "Please, dear, anything for you. Would you like me to escort you home? So you can spend the rest of your week at ease, that is." Your eye contact with him breaks, and you can't shake the notion that you're breaking some unspoken, un-agreed-upon contract when you say: "Actually, I'm meeting with a friend, so there's no need." If you were willing to entertain such an insane notion, you would say you notice Sunday's eye twitch. He had never been the kind of man to have unusual tremors or ticks, his hands always guided smoothly along their path. His face still keeps that smile of his, however. The same as he smiles at anyone else, only... colder, somehow. "My mistake," Sunday replies, his face strained. "I'm sure you mustn't keep this... company of yours waiting any longer. You should be on your way as soon as possible." You almost reassure him that Aventurine wouldn't be bothered at all, but you hold your tongue. Sunday walks around your desk to approach you, his hands clasped behind his back. "I'll take my leave as well, then. ...Though, before you go, [Y/N], I have one request." "Yes, sir?" His face grows even more unusually cold. "Cancel all of my meetings for the rest of the day," he states plainly, almost like he's admonishing you. "We'll reschedule them the moment you clock in tomorrow." "Of course, sir." "Thank you, dear. I apologize for the hassle. It seems I have something important to attend to today," he adds, seemingly more for his own sake than your own. "We'll see each other shortly." "Of course, Mr. Sunday. See you tomorrow." Sunday closes the door behind him, leaving you alone to finish sorting your papers before your meeting with Aventurine. --- a/n: hope you guys don't mind the artistic liberties with aven's dialogue lol!!! also, I don't have any intention of making this aven x y/n x sunday, but if there's enough demand i could probably incorporate that lol feedback always appreciated!!! tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd @8x9d

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Like there was no tomorrow." Daryl Dixon—Chapter 1.

Daryl Dixon promised himself, the night he let you go, that he would always love you, like there was no tomorrow. But when you come back into his life, you’re sure you won't fall for him again. However, even against your wishes, he will stay close to you, protecting you from getting hurt or worse, because a life without you is unimaginable. Now, like a roller coaster of emotions, you have to face your confusing feelings in an apocalyptic world, until you finally decide what the hell you expect from life, besides the chance to live one more day. And when a little girl shows up in your lifes, she may be the path to a safe place you two can finally call home. But, will that be enough to be together? Or will the past be too much to survive the storm?

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x reader

WARNING: Death, blood, a lot of bad words hehe (but also romance and even some comedy if I can get it right hehe)

ERA: From prison onwards.

A/N: Hello! It is with great fear in my heart that I share with you the first chapter of this series. I hope you like it! I am not the best writer but I want to keep writing about Daryl, so I hope you give this story a chance. Thank you so much! I loved that dialogue of Michonne making fun of Daryl when she found out he had a girlfriend hehehe

You met Daryl before the dead came back to life.

He was a young man working for the owner of a motorcycle repair shop: the pay was bad, but good enough to get by. You were the child of a police officer (who had drinking problems) the typical sheltered (but down-to-earth) young person, just trying to make your life meaningful. Your older brother used to take you with him to get his bike repaired, and the rest of how you and Daryl met was history.

But that first day, it was a big surprise for him when you talked to him, because someone like you, who stood out like a brilliant sapphire among a pile of discolored rocks, talked to him like he was just like you. And it was almost blinding looking at you, like trying to look directly at the sun.

Daryl had a small inferiority complex he knew how to mask well, but from that day on, he couldn't wait to see you every week.

After that, it was a good three and a half years, with a few petty arguments, and a ring hidden in the back of his drawer that he never gave you. But the day he broke up with you, Daryl did it through his own suffocating pain, through his mistaken idea that he wasn’t enough for you, that the life he could offer you wasn’t the one you deserved, so that day, Daryl let you go. However, it would be a lie to say it was easy for him, because for the next 4 months, Daryl did nothing but come to see you every night, just to make sure you got home safely from your job.

A little bit later, the apocalypse began.

Daryl tried to find you that night, but your house was a mess, and there was no sign of you, so he and his brother left town. But he never stopped looking for you anywhere he went, he never stopped dreaming about you, because Daryl knew you were still alive.

But life is a funny and unpredictable thing, because that afternoon, it is you who comes back to him.

“Drop it.”

Your firm voice sinks into the ears of the man with his back to you, whose heart wakes up frantically when he feels the cold muzzle of your gun on the back of his head. The cold air of the abandoned room that used to be a classroom in that forgotten university makes the hairs on his skin stand on end, but he is too scared to even breathe.

You don't mean to scare the poor man like that, but like every so often when you came to look for other kinds of medicine, you never expected to find another living being in that place, especially one that preferred to take the bottles of alcohol when other things were more important. Therefore, he didn't seem like a person you could trust.

“Hey, I’m Bob and I’m not looking for trouble…” The man says softly, his hand holding the last bottle of alcohol that he had picked up from the ground, but frozen now in mid-air. “My group and I are looking for medicine for our people–”

“Yeah? I didn’t know you healed people with vodka.” You say sarcastically. “Put the bottle down and get out of here slowly. I'm not going to hurt you, but don't do anything stupid.”

Helpless, Bob complies with your command before beginning to walk outside, hands in the air to show you that he is harmless, but he is also unable to see the small falcon above your right shoulder. The yellow paws of your little girl cling to the fabric of your black long-sleeved shirt, without hurting you, but keeping her black eyes fixed on the prey before her, watching his movements and any attempt of sudden attack. However, the moment you two cross the door and take a couple of steps into the apparent lonely hallway, a light, almost silent footstep, like the weight of one of her feathers is heard in the falcon’s ears and Aeris makes a low sound, a warning that makes you turn the muzzle of the gun towards your right, towards the door on the other side of the hall in a single second.

Across the hall, Daryl lowers his crossbow when he sees you through it, even if it's almost impossible for him to believe that you're really there in front of him, not after he spent all that time looking for you since you two broke up. You lower your weapon as well, keeping a frown, but your heartbeat is as loud in your ears as if you had just fired a bullet on that silent and deathly place.

You knew he was out there and alive, (because Daryl was too smart with his survival instincts and all) but you never imagined you would see him again. His hair is long and covers part of his eyes, but his gaze is the same, those cold blue eyes that used to see you differently from the others.

“Peach?” His deep, low voice, the one you once thought was lost when he let you startles you now, but you keep your emotions back on track as he approaches, slowly, with a singular fear in his eyes. “Shit. I can’t believe s’ya.”

Behind him, a man with a gun and a woman with a katana walk out of the room, backpacks on their shoulders and serious expressions, because in that new world no one bothered to smile and be friendly with strangers anymore, and it is understandable given the circumstances.

“I went to look for ya at yer house when the bombings in the city started…” Daryl always had a special way of looking at you, just like now, so intense that when you first met him, you were afraid of drowning in his ocean-colored eyes. “Ya weren’t there, and yer dad…”

The sudden memory, the one you used to push into the deepest, darkest part of your memory, comes back to you with the force of a hurricane.

“Yeah, my dad was too drunk to get out of there.” You say softly, so softly so as not to sink into guilt for leaving him when he yelled at you to run. “My best friend was with me that night and it's just been me and her this whole time.”

“Peach…”

But Daryl’s voice is silenced when Aeris makes a sound again, looking down the hall where the first walker turns the corner, growling and bringing others behind it.

“We need to go!” The katana-wielding woman takes the lead, walking the other way.

You and the new group follow suit, passing a pair of classrooms that hid a pair of silent walkers until they feel everyone's presence. That moment, they start growling, following you all. The only clear room you all enter is windowless, and it is so dark that it plunges you into a new kind of darkness that the light from the flashlight you and the woman pull tries to fight off.

“Hey! The door’s broken.” Bob whispers, teeth clenched in fear as he presses himself against the closed door.

“Hold on.” Daryl steps closer, pushing the heavy animal bars to block the path of the walkers that begin to pile up against it.

You stop beside the woman, your own flashlight pointing at the staircase sign above the double wooden doors on the other side of the stifling room.

“Hey. There.” You tell her, and when her flashlight points in the same direction, she nods at you. But as you approach the chains covering the doors, the walkers on the other side rush at the small gap between the boards, rotting hands trying to reach for you all. “I don't know how many are on the other side.”

The unlocked door on the other end begins to give way, letting in more walkers.

“We can take ‘em.” The big man in the woolly hat says, his gun ready to fire, but is silenced by Bob’s words.

“No! They’re infected. Same as at the prison. We fire at ‘em, get their blood on us, breath it in. We didn’t come all this way to get sick.”

The man in the hat points the flashlight at him.

“How do we know the ones in there aren’t any different?”

“We don’t.” The woman replies, sword in her hands.

“Well, it’s gonna change sometimes.”

Daryl approaches the upside-down chair near him, using his boot to break the legs. He steps up to the door next and uses his weight against the chains to break them, throwing the doors wide, the first few walkers nearly tripping over each other with their hands in the air, ready to sink their teeth into the skin of the closest victim.

Simultaneously, you and the woman take down two with a bullet and a swing of her katana, clearing the way for the others. It’s dark the minute it takes you all turn around a corner, but then, the daylight hits you in the face as you take the first step towards the staircase, the sunlight lighting the way up with the others in front of you.

Aeris swings on your shoulder before taking flight to the next floor over the heads of the others. You had saved that bird when she was a chick, and now, she was the compass that always guided you to a safe place: you trust her with your life.

“Follow her...” You say, taking the lead when everyone stops for a microsecond. “She’ll find the path clear of walkers.”

“How the fuck will she do that? It’s a bird!” Bob growls, but following the rest up the steps.

“Because she’s smarter than all of us put together.” You say through gritted teeth in frustration, stepping into the floor as the stairs finally end in front of you.

The room opens up into two hallways, and though the hallway on the left is clear, Aeris is standing on the edge of the closed window on the right side, speaking in small sounds.

“There’s no way out through there!” Bob shouts, but before he takes a step into the apparent emptiness on left, more walkers round the corner and others come out of the adjoining rooms, growling in the distance.

“Fuck…” Daryl growls as he passes you, watching in frustration as the bird returns to your shoulder. “We make one then.”

He loops his crossbow strap around his body before grabbing a fire extinguisher from the ground, finally throwing it at the glass. The window makes a loud sound as glass falls in all directions, but clearing an improvised path for you all. Daryl climbs up to the edge, giving the woman his hand first to cross to the other side, but when he's about to do the same with you, you're already standing on top on your own.

He narrows his eyes, frustrated at your tendency to do things alone.

You jump onto the roof next to the window, but it is so narrow that your knees bend as you fall, using your hands to keep your balance. Aeris rocks with the movement, but she remains on your shoulder. The man in the hat jumps next, followed by Daryl, and finally Bob, who uses a little more strength than necessary and the weight of his backpack propels it over the edge, falling into the void where dozens of hands rush to try and grab it.

On the ground, mouths are open and hands grab onto the backpack strap, but Bob has no intention of letting go even as he struggles with them, half his body already down. The others rush to help, but Aeris shifts uneasily on your shoulder, as if she's holding you back, her own reaction to the impending danger and not just from the walkers.

Finally, Bob manages to pull himself halfway up from the edge, pushing his backpack against the floor of that ceiling, which makes a clear sound you know well from your past life: the sound of glass bottles. And amidst the haze of confusion and as racing hearts try to calm down, Daryl kneels in front of the half-open backpack, grabbing a full bottle of vodka.

“Ya got no meds in yer bag?” You can hear it, the danger in his angry yet low voice. “Just this?”

Bob tries to speak, to say something in his defense even when everyone knows, including you, that there would be no excuse to support his reckless action.

But when Daryl tries to throw the bottle, Bob’s hand instinctively reaches for the gun at his waist, letting out a no under his breath. And suddenly, and even outside and with all the open air, the impending tension closes dangerously around the others. You knew Daryl grew up without a single ounce of fear in his body, after forgetting what fear was after all the beatings his dad used to give him when he was little, and now, he, so sure that he can beat the shit out of Bob without even using his gun, steps closer to his face, looking him in the eyes. Daryl has a short temper, and from behind, you can see his back tensing up in anger, his hand taking the gun from Bob's waist before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He's good, you know that, but his rage and frustration were always really short, almost deadly, and dangerous like playing close to a volcano.

But Daryl keeps growling softly, like a wild animal, his blue eyes fixed on Bob, though he can't meet his eyes.

“Daryl…” You say softly, trying to ease the tension of the situation before he ends up pushing the poor man over the edge. You’ve already seen him hurt someone for less in a bar, when a drunk guy tried to hit on you, calling you by a disgusting name that Daryl eventually made him swallow with the punching he gave that man. “Don’t do it… please.”

Daryl exhales through his nose, letting out all his anger first, his jaw too tight to speak at that second.

“Take one sip ‘fore those meds get to our people, and I will beat yer ass into the ground.” He says, low, and it’s not a warning: it’s a promise you know he’ll keep as he pushes the bottle against Bob’s chest. “Ya hear me?”

Daryl steps away from Bob, giving you a silent look before continuing, but hating that only you could calm that fierce temper of his, even after being apart for so long.

“Do you have a doctor where you’re staying?”

Out in the open field, Aeris is always flying nearby, you know that. But the moment you enter the once-convenience store, connected to a house, the long hallway seems to become small until it closes around your throat because of the thought of not being able to get help for your friend, a thought that begins to dance in your scared mind.

“Yes, but…” Michonne hesitates, not knowing how to continue, how to explain that the seemingly safe place is falling under a strange virus. “But I don’t know if it would be best for you to come with us right now.”

“It’s not for me…” You say in front of her, opening the back door that eventually extends into a forgotten, old living room, with just two small sofas and a wooden table in the center. But the daylight coming through the white curtain gives the place a warm touch, like an image from centuries ago, as if the world hadn't gone straight to hell. “My friend is sick and I don’t know how to help her.”

The others enter the room, the two men sitting on the couches while Michonne paces around, and they all carry a strange mix of emotions under the promise of getting enough gasoline to get them home, but still under the shadow of what happened back at the college. You can read the discomfort on their faces, making you feel uncomfortable too.

“Ya and Sam live here?” Daryl stops beside you, looking at you as deeply as those days that now seem not so far away. “Is she okay? Are ya okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh before continuing, thinking back a bit.

“Yeah. Maybe a month ago an older woman found us in her store looking for supplies, and I guess she was either nice or naive but she invited us to eat with her because we didn’t seem like bad people to her. Ellie lives here with her husband, who is unfortunately quadriplegic, so Sam and I stayed with them. They offered us food and I... security in what I can do.”

“Can you shoot?” Michonne asks, approaching you.

“Ya kiddin’?” Daryl snorts. “The first time we fought she threw a peach at me that landed exactly where she wanted. (Y/N) has a hell of an aim.”

For the first time and after the danger has passed, Michonne smiles.

“I wasn’t kidding when I told you my aim would help me if an apocalypse ever broke out…” You try to chuckle, but the attempt falls flat on a sigh. “Can you please take my friend with you? I don’t know what else to do for her, and I’m afraid that if she keeps this up, she’ll ask me to end her suffering at any moment.”

The new group falls into a heavy silence, debating internally whether doing so is a good idea.

“If we don’t, you won’t give us the gasoline?” Tyreese asks, eager to get back to his sister.

“Of course not.” But you shake your head, trying to explain yourself better. “I mean; you can take the gas either way.”

Silently, the others share glances before voicing their opinions, but the absence of noise makes your hands shake and a strange warmth awaken in the pit of your stomach, running through your entire body, so in response, you push up the sleeves of your shirt to cool you down, forgetting for a second about your scars, revealing a secret you thought you wouldn’t have to share with anyone else.

Daryl spots them immediately, too wrapped up in you to miss them.

“The fuck happened to yer wrists?” He grabs your arm, lifting it up to observe the aftermath of that night when you had to burn both of your arms to set you free. “And don’t ya fuckin’ dare lie to me.”

In a second, your body fills with anger when you hear that tone spilling over from his voice, so you yank your arm away.

“Fuck you, Dixon, I’m not your problem. So don’t ask me for explanations like I’m your responsibility.”

“Ya are ma fuckin’ responsibility.” He steps closer to you, so dangerously that it alerts the others.

But to their surprise, you chuckle humorlessly, and they're already getting the idea that you alone could handle Daryl Dixon.

“You're wrong, Daryl, I’m not yours at all, in any way.” Your gaze is as deep as your words, which fall on his chest at the memory of a relationship he ended. “Now, if you can take my friend, I’ll thank you infinitely, and if not, take the gasoline from the kitchen and get out of here.”

Michonne’s chest falls when she exhales, but she gives a silent look to Daryl, who hasn’t stopped looking at you with some frustration.

“Okay, we’ll take her with us. You can come too.”

You shake your head.

“I’m not leaving Ellie alone with Mark. But I have two walkie talkie, so you can take one and if Sam gets better, I’ll go get her. And if not…” Your chest tightens with the anxiety and uncertainty, the incessant fear of not being able to do more for her. “Just try to help her, please.”

When you feel the warning of the first tear behind your eyes, you tell them that you will get the gasoline so that way you have an escape route, some comfort in solitude in case the worst happens. She is your best friend, your sister, your person, a rock you could hold on to when a storm fell upon your life, and the thought of losing her too in that cruel world takes your breath away, slowly killing you.

But when you take a few steps into the kitchen that now has yellowed walls, Daryl walks in behind you.

“Ya are comin' with us.”

As you turn to him, you can’t help but hate that order in his deep voice, that command he used in his misguided attempt to protect you.

“Daryl, thank you, but I don’t need you to worry about me. And I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“I dun fuckin’ care.” He growls, moving closer to you again. “I ain’t leavin’ ya alone in this place.”

You chuckle, just to prove to him that his words don’t have an effect on you.

“I’m not alone, I have Aeris.”

Daryl narrows his eyes.

“That fuckin’ bird?”

“Hey, watch your mouth, sunshine…” You smirk. “Because that damn bird saved your ass today. If it weren't for her, everyone would have gone into the corridor with the walkers. Now… grab the gasoline you need and leave.”

Your gaze leaves him the moment you walk out the kitchen, cruelly, leaving him unable to continue seeing those deep eyes he always loved to gaze upon, because they could tell him without a single word everything he once meant to you. He always thought that you had probably been the only person capable of loving him with all his flaws, without ever being afraid of him, ever, but in the end, because Daryl knows he won’t change your mind, not with a personality as stubborn as his own, he takes the gasoline with the help of the others.

About half an hour later, the car hidden beneath some branches is ready to take them back home, but the feeling of leaving you alone again is suffocating for Daryl as he watches you from outside the car, the way you say goodbye to your best friend, telling her she will be okay even though she is practically unconscious, too weak to respond to your last show of affection before you pull away.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” Michonne says, in a tone so warm it makes you smile slightly.

“No. Thank you. I hope you get safely to… your home.”

With a final look filled with gratitude, but absent, you say goodbye to most everyone, stepping away from the group to return to the safety of your own small home. Silently, Daryl watches you go, but harboring that same desire that seems to be carved into fire in his chest, that desire to go after you now, like he wanted to do that night he broke up with you. The second you left that night, Daryl wanted to go after you to tell you that he was sorry, that he was lying, that he was too much of a coward to stop listening to those thoughts in his head that told him he would never be able to give you what you deserved, even though he didn't even know what that was.

But the moment you disappear around the corner of the building, Michonne approaches Daryl as the others enter the car.

“Who was (Y/N) in your life, Daryl?”

He lets out a growl through clenched teeth, part of him hating you (although not seriously) for always being so stubborn.

“Ma goddamn woman.”

Michonne nods slowly, weighing his words because in her eyes, he always seemed too lonely to let any person get close to him like that. Daryl seemed too reluctant to let a person penetrate that armor he had around himself, that concrete wall that prevented full access to his insides. She also knows that Daryl is a good man, but it is almost impossible to believe that someone like him, who used to push others away from him so as not to get too attached, would be capable of showing that kind of affection towards someone else.

But it’s fascinating at the same time.

“She kind of hates you.”

Daryl shakes his head before going to the car.

“Nah. That’s her special way of tellin’ ya she still loves me.”

Michonne chuckles, following him. He gets into the driver’s seat, closing his door as she does the same with the other.

“You’re going to come back for her, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah. Now that I found her I ain't lettin' her go again, even if I have to carry her stubborn body over ma shoulder to take her with me to the prison.”

Michonne smiles, loving the idea that Daryl could be so honest with his feelings even in front of all of them.

“So you do have a soft spot after all.”

Daryl growls quietly as he starts the car, driving away from the building to go back to the prison. Daryl Dixon promised himself, the night he let you go, that he would always love you, like there was no tomorrow, but now that he found you, or that you had found him, Daryl wouldn't let you leave his side never again. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Hell, no.

@fluffy-dixon

[14dayswithyou]

I'm going to be a little evil :3c /silly

*I have stolen all of their headwear, leaving only FROGGY HAT in his closet.*

"Boy it sure is chilly today. Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay [REDACTED]?"

✦゜ANSWERED: I believe in froggy hat [REDACTED] supremacy 🖤🐸

He knew. Of course he knew. [REDACTED]'s security system alerted him the second you stepped foot into his apartment, and it took the dark-haired hacker almost all of his willpower not to rush home and see you. But alas, he had other matters to attend to and messes to clean up here. Things he couldn't risk putting on hold, lest he pay the consequences for them later.

So, [REDACTED] settles for watching you through his cracked phone screen as you try to sneak your way around his apartment. They didn't really understand why you felt the need to be so secretive; you knew your boyfriend would be out for the day, you had his spare keycard and access to the entire 14th floor, and [REDACTED] had made it explicitly clear early on in the relationship that everything he owned was yours completely. Nothing was off limits to you, and that included every inch of his living space.

...And even himself.

Curiously, they watch with keen interest as you quietly slide the door to his walk-in closet open and take in your surroundings once more — making sure that you really were alone in his dimly-lit bedroom. But barely a moment passes before you stride in with a newfound purpose, unzip your backpack, and begin to stash all of his caps and beanies inside.

Well, alright then. If you decided he no longer needed those items, then so be it. He was never one to deny you anything.

But in retrospect, you were honestly doing [REDACTED] a favour. He genuinely didn't really need those items in his possession anymore — especially considering how he had no real reason to conceal his identity from you after all these years of being together.

He could never forget about that pivoted moment in time when you opened up to your beloved hacker about his rather... intense need to watch over you 24/7. And after you had scolded him multiple times for stalking you from darkened corners and alleyways outside your apartment complex, [REDACTED] had all but tried to change his ways. To better themselves for you.

After all, you deserved nothing less.

Glancing back at his phone once more, [REDACTED] takes in every little movement you make as you continue to tuck away his belongings; down to the turn of your head and the flex in your muscles. Not a single twitch or glance goes unnoticed under his watchful gaze — and had the dark-haired man not been so enraptured by your ministrations — he surely would've noticed that it was just about time for him to start packing his tools up and head home.

Home, in time for the date you had planned for the evening.

But the way you purposefully moved around his closet had [REDACTED] in a trance. You were extremely methodical about the things you were swiping from his shelves; neatly packing away all of the headgear, earmuffs, and scarves on display (and even the ones hidden within the depths of his drawers!). Yet... One single item remained in the aftermath of your wake.

Atop one of the lone shelves in the corner, it sits, isolated from the rest of its kind. Worn out yet well loved; it was no more than a novelty item your boyfriend had originally won for you from a crane game. But even after their constant insistence that you should keep it, you rebutted it all by saying it'd look better on him instead — all while pushing the cute, froggy hat back into his hands with a teasing smile.

("If you keep bleaching your hair like that," his real name falls from your lips like sweet nectar, "All of your hair will fall out. When that happens, you can use this to keep your bald head warm!"

"...When that happens? Hmph. You're gettin' cheeky." With a smile of his own, your boyfriend reaches out to gently pinch your cheek. "I haven't touched m'hair in ages.")

So after watching you be so meticulous with the items you were "robbing", the hacker couldn't help but wonder what your main motive was. Why leave that silly, little frog hat alone unless... Did you want him to wear it? You knew [REDACTED] would never say no to you — let alone to a frivolous request — but admittedly, they did find it rather endearing to watch you put in all that effort just for him.

Just like how he used to be... Back before you opened the curtains of his life and brought sunshine into his heart.

Gone are the days of "Ren", when [REDACTED] had to snoop around your apartment just to get any sort of inclination of what your type and interests might be. No longer did [REDACTED] have to "borrow" some of your old clothing to keep himself company on lonely nights; to put them over his pillow and pretend like it was you he was holding close to his chest. He no longer had to steal your presents and tokens out of spite and jealousy — only to return them days later once they noticed how upset it made you.

Too caught up in reminiscing about the past, [REDACTED] had almost missed your swift getaway from his bedroom. Living up to your nickname, you glide down the staircase and across his foyer as if you sprouted angel wings on your back and stroll into the elevator, before closing the door and pulling out your phone.

And just like clockwork, [REDACTED]'s camera feed gets replaced by the bright red and green call buttons that shake and taunt him at the bottom of the screen — alongside the personalised caller photo of you smiling towards the sunset ocean with [REDACTED]'s jacket atop your shoulders. The dark-haired man leaves no room for pause before he's swiping his finger across the screen and eagerly anticipating the sound of your voice.

You greet him in that casual, nonchalant tone of yours, and [REDACTED] had to resist the urge to start recording the call — to save the addictive timbre of your voice for when he needs to hear it the most.

"Man... It sure is chilly today, don't you think?"

There's the familiar sound of tacky elevator music playing in the background, and part of [REDACTED] thinks you're purposefully calling him right now to let him in on your (not so) secret escapades... To let them know where you are.

Or perhaps you were already aware that he knows, if the way you were glancing up at the elevator camera was anything to go by.

Regardless, you don't give away any other telling signs as your beloved hacker watches you through the camera. Your bag is still carefully slung over a shoulder, while one of his old, black university caps received the pleasure of being fiddled with in your hand. Your voice returns once more, and it causes a grin to form on his lips.

"Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay?"

There's a newfound teasing lilt in your tone, which has [REDACTED] latching on to your every word with bated breath and scrambling for a reply.

"'Course. Wouldn't miss our date for the world. 'N make sure y'stay warm too, angel." Without missing a beat, he easily takes his place in your little game. "Wouldn't wanna misplace your jacket 'n get cold now, would we?"

Your pixelated smile on the screen gives everything away.

You hear the unmistakable sound of [REDACTED]'s sports motorbike before you see it; watching the corner of your street as he appears from the darkness like a phantom.

And like the gentleman that he is, [REDACTED] doesn't make you stray far from the safety of the streetlamp either. The moment your boyfriend pulls up in front of you, one of his large hands reaches around your waist to draw you near (almost as if he'd gone years without being in your presence), while the other makes quick work of the latch of his helmet. In one swift motion, he pulls it off and rests it against the tank—

Only to reveal that cute, pastel green frog hat sitting atop his head.

He can't help but smile when you do; clearly pleased that he went through with your silly request. At that, you let out a low hum of appreciation as you lean against your boyfriend's chest, and [REDACTED] returns the favour by bending down and pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of your head as well.

"...Think y'could give this unworthy prince another kiss, love?" Your beloved boyfriend leans in closer until your lips are millimetres away from touching, "Otherwise I might stay cursed t'live in this froggy form forever."

[hyunverse]

welcome home ★ hwang hyunjin.

hyunjin x gn!reader. fluff, drabble. no warnings.

wc: 600 words.

Hyunjin renovates your new home for you, ensuring each detail is tailored to your liking.

"Watch your steps."

Carefully, Hyunjin guides you around the house, one hand clasped against your eyes, the other resting on your waist.  You could feel the cold tiles beneath your feet, and how it is slightly dusty from the month-long renovations. 

"Careful, don't want you to stub your toe," Hyunjin says, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

Hyunjin walks you through the house, until at one point (you couldn't tell where in the house), he stops. 

"One, two..." he whispers, and you can feel the smile on his face, "...Three. Surprise!"

Hyunjin drops his hand, watching as you take in the sight before you. You're standing in front of the newly renovated kitchen, its appearance far different than the last time you saw it. 

"Oh my god," you breathe out, "What the hell, Hyunjin?"

The walls of the kitchen had been renovated to your liking, the boring brick walls transformed into green marble tiles. The countertop looks like one from your dreams — straight from the house of Monet. All you could do is gasp.

"You like it?" Hyunjin questions, placing a hand on the small of your back.

"Sweetheart, I love it," you whisper. He smiles, content with the perplexed look on your face. 

"I love it," you repeat, roaming around the kitchen with Hyunjin following you like a lost puppy. "I really love it, Hyune."

“I’m happy you do, baby.”

You rummage through the drawers, trailing your pointer against every surface you could touch. All the furniture, even the kitchen cookware sets, was designed according to your preferences — as though Hyunjin had the same mind as yours. Frankly, it’s like your Pinterest board has come to life. 

What you’re unaware of is that indeed, Hyunjin had spent weeks stalking you on Pinterest. His urges of “pleeaaaaseee update your Pinterest boards,” weren’t for nothing. 

"Wait, need to show you this," your fiancee interrupts, taking your hand to lead you to a cabinet. 

He gently opens the cabinet, revealing a spice rack. The spice rack you've always wanted — he knows because he remembers the few times you've mentioned it — is sitting right inside the cabinet. 

“Holy fuck, Hyune,” you mutter, turning your head to him with your mouth agape, “It’s the fucking Lenox Spice Village that I wanted!”

“Yeah,” he giggles, a sense of pride bubbling in him. He lets out a small “oof,” when you throw yourself onto him, engulfing him into a tight hug.

“I love it so much, baby. I really love it.”

“Really?” he giggles, holding you tightly, “You haven’t even seen the bedroom.” 

Hyunjin leads you to the bedroom, then the bathroom, the living room — and lastly, an office. The space in the office had been divided into two, one-half works as his art corner, and the other serves as a study for you. The desk is exactly to your liking, a space designated for you to indulge in your hobbies.

There’s a peg board above your desk — with magnets from the cities you’ve travelled to, and polaroids from your dates with Hyunjin. A memento for all the memories you’ve made with him. 

It all feels like home. 

“It’s really perfect,” you exhale, standing by the desk with an awestruck face. “You know me so well, Hyune.”

“I do?” he mutters, a small smile gracing his face. He inches closer to you, his breath fanning against your neck. A kiss is cheekily placed on your cheek. “I just wanted you to feel at home.”

“And I do,” you whisper, looking up at him. “I feel at home. When you said to move in with you, I didn’t expect for all of this, you know?”

Hyunjin smiles, cupping your face with a tenderness you never thought you would deserve. Soft, akin to the breeze that graces your face every midnight. 

A contrast to his touch, his next words kicks the air out of you.

“Welcome home.”

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[konigbabe]

PEACH

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.7k Tags/warnings: no y/n; domestic Satoru Gojo; Gojo being a menace of a boyfriend in public; eventual smut (part V only) Summary: Gojo's an ass man. Part of my JJKS2 writing week; also written after being inspired by @greycaelum's ask.

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

I.

It starts off innocently enough.

Even before you’ve got together, Satoru makes it a habit of his own to give your ass an amicable pat for "good luck" or "to bless him". Make it obvious that the young teacher’s rather fond of his fellow teacher’s backside, going as far as openly making up compliments. Spreading heat through your cheeks when his little game of teasing starts.

("Nice derriere, that skirt’s doin’ you wonders," he says, grinning from ear to ear while watching you walking down the hallway with Ijichi, discussing recent curse spirit’s activities.

Your companion’s breath hitches, a blush spreading over his cheeks when you turn around, "what does that mean?")

But you know Satoru too well, and his quirky sense of humor never fails to amuse you; even when you try to keep your face blank whenever he starts talking. Satoru's compliments are akin to a playful serenade. He isn’t holding back; not even in front of his own students.

("Y’know," forearm resting on your shoulder, he leans closer to you, "your tush deserves its own fan club and I'm officially the first member."

You don’t even look at him, rather starring blanky at the fighting students on the field, "Tush?")

II.

As your relationship with Satoru turns intimate and romantic, his playful teasing takes on a new dimension; it becomes a form of worship.

Lying sprawled on the couch, your head cradled by a pillow nestled beneath your chin, you watch the flickering TV screen with a mind adrift, sometimes diverting your gaze to scroll through your phone. Days off are a rarity amongst jujutsu sorcerers. The teachers especially. So you use the day to relax, unwind and let your body mend and rejuvenate after the latest mission.

The tranquil ambiance, however, is fleeting when Satoru returns. Discarding his shoes and jacket with a careless thud, he drops a small paper bag onto the nearest drawer before making a beeline for your relaxed form.

With a wordless playfulness, he plops the full weight of his body onto your back—or more accurately, the back of his head lands snugly on the supple, rounded globes of your butt.

"Satoru," you whine, neck straining as you try to turn around, "you’re way too heavy."

His arm restrains you, slithering around your lower abdomen like a sinuous serpent, fingers kneading the squeezable flesh of your hip. The other hand lands right at the apex of your back thigh, kneading the subtle build before moving upwards on the lower part of your butt.

"Mmh," he huffs, engrossed in massaging your body, too preoccupied to offer a proper response.

You can’t complain either; Satoru is skillful with his fingers, always knowing which spots to apply the right pressure and leaving you in a state of pure relaxation.

"You want me to stop," he asks after a second to which you promptly deny; letting out a contented sigh, prompting a small chuckle from Satoru. "Then I'm glad you're enjoyin’ it," he says, voice carrying a warm sincerity.

III.

The plates clash with each other, sound loud enough to make you think he broke it instead of washing it. A soft, gentle hum swirls around the air as Satoru moves the sponge in circles.

You watch from the arched doorway. Tall, lean frame covering your view of his task, yet the clanking confirms your initial suspicions. Satoru, focused on the chore, wears a well-worn apron over a simple, black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms that move with practiced precision.

Staying in place, you shamelessly marvel at the sight; watching him set another plate in the drying rack. Eyes gliding over the broadness of his shoulder to the contour of his waist, they land on their target.

Simple grey sweatpants, a black ribbon belt holding them in place, hide your target from your eyes. But you know where to aim when you start taking cautious, quiet steps toward Satoru.

The attack is quick. Calculated. The impact of your palm sends a loud slapping sound throughout the kitchen. A lively laugh escapes your lips at the same time Satoru’s head turns to the side, eyes locking yours in a frozen stance.

You take off.

He doesn’t rush. Calmly continuing to hum the song, he finishes the last dish and puts it on the rack. One hand turning the faucet off with a dangerous nonchalance, the other reaches for the washing cloth. Drying his hands and taking the apron off, he turns to where you ran off.

You make it to the stairs before you feel Satoru’s grip on your wrist, firm but playful. Tugs you backward; gentle force turning you around, bending you at the waist. Arm deftly sneaking around your shoulders, locking your arms by your sides as he stands tall by your side.

"You really thought you could get away with this, peach?"

His fingers, long and slender, dance over the small of your back. Barely grazing the surface of your skin over the material of your shirt; tracing a tantalizing path down your body.

As you squirm within his firm however gentle grasp, a soft and brief laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervousness and delight. "I didn't mean it," you admit jovially, the words imbued with a tinge of mischief, "I didn't know it would lend so perfectly."

"You didn’t know," Satoru chortles, leisurely placing his palm flat upon the rounded curve of your pants-covered butt, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, exerting a measured pressure as if savoring the feeling, "Think you can win this?"

With that, his hand leaves your body–

"Wait, Satoru," you try to swat him away but his hold over your upper body remains unyielding, steadfast, allowing him to orchestrate the next move, "Gojo!"

–and he delivers the first slap; earning a surprised yelp from you, body jolting forward. The sound of the impact reverberates throughout the open space, accompanied by Satoru’s contagious laughter as he lets you go. Hand supporting your weight, making sure you don’t fall flat on your face, you still end up on the ground.

The skin of your butt stings as you palm the flesh.

"You’re in for it now, Satoru Gojo," with a daring grin, you prepare yourself to retaliate. Not now. But the time will come.

The man in question throws his hands in the air, smiling brightly as he takes a step back, "Oh, I’m scared."

IV.

"We just need some edamame, more pickled ginger, and white miso," you list the items from your phone, taking the lead as you and Satoru both stroll through the aisles. He holds the basket, staying a good step behind you with his gaze focused on your back, a smile playing at the corner of his lips–eliciting a suspicious feeling out of you.

Even with the obsidian-tinted glasses covering his eyes, the glimmer of amusement in his gaze hasn't escaped your perceptive senses. A whisper of suspicion trails through your mind; you know he's scheming something.

As you approach the edamame section, you start searching for the perfect bag, seeking the one with the right plumpness and vibrancy.

But before you can grab one, Satoru unexpectedly announces “butt-five” before springing forward with playful exuberance, the resounding clap of his hand meeting your butt reverberating through the store like a percussion note, commanding the attention of nearby shoppers.

Involuntarily, you release a startled, high-pitched yelp—a symphony of surprise and embarrassment entwined. But before any further fallout can unfold, Satoru suppresses the escalating situation, covering your mouth with his warm, large hand, and steering you behind an aisle. Out of sight from curious onlookers.

Holding back his laughter, you feel his chest pressed tightly against your back, vibrating as he silently laughs, palm flat against the lower part of your face, muffling the remnants of your outburst.

"Sorry ‘bout that," he manages to stifle his laughter, an undercurrent of amusement still evident in his voice. "Couldn't resist, y’know?"

Through the slight crack between his fingers and your lips, you muster a muffled threat, "I’m gonna kill you.”

He releases his hand, feigning innocence, his eyes wide with mock surprise.

"What?" he questions you, knowing full well the extent of his antics.

"You’re a dead man walking, Satoru Gojo."

V.

Satoru has you in a vice grip; arms encircling the fat of your thighs with unrelenting strength, fingernails making deep crescent moons into your sensitive skin, setting your whole body aflame. Every inch of your being screams for more as you sink into the mattress, burying your face into the pillows to muffle all sounds of pleasure his mouth is drawing out of you.

He’s merciless. Relentless. Ruthless.

Tongue teasing your soaked slit, lapping hungrily at you like a man starved. The tip of his nose gleaming with your juices as he expertly fucks his tongue inside of you.

In and out. Going as deep as the position allows him.

Pulling your body more into him, burying his face into you; so close that it seems as if he wishes to be swallowed by your cunt whole.

You can barely concentrate before he pulls away; especially when another wave of pleasure washes over you. Wet lips worshipping your hungry bud, thin strands of wetness glistening around it, something he greedily laps up before moving upwards. His wet tongue leaves trails of fire along the fleshy swell of your ass, teeth soon following suit as they bite lightly into the plump globes.

Satoru nibbles at the flesh, one hand sneaking back between your legs to cup your sex, tease the entrance with his fingertip, collecting the wetness before pushing in two fingers. He fills you up, soon adds another finger as his mouth continues its sweet assault on your ass.

"Could eat this ass any day–"

He drives his fingers in and out of you. Fast and unrelenting; massaging your walls while making you gasp as he moves his mouth down, licking and biting at your back thighs before concentrating back on your asscheeks.

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie stares up at his ceiling bored out of his mind. He’s not technically completely on bed rest from the bat injuries, but he’s not allowed to do anything too strenuous. It’s ridiculous though really. He’s basically all healed with his ugly scars that make up a good portion of his body, but whenever the kids see them, they tell him to lay back down.

It’s stupid really. This is not how he thought playing the hero would end. Well… honestly he hadn’t thought that far ahead before, but now…

He groans and sits up ignoring the way his side slightly aches, but he needs to call the one person who actually knows what’s he going through. He makes his way down the hall and to the phone where he dials a number he had memorized months before.

After the second ring there’s a voice that answers, “Harrington residence.”

Eddie sighs, “How do you overcome the never ending boredom of our condition? I can’t be laying in bed all day, man.”

There’s a laugh on the other line. “It’s good hearing from you. How are you doing?” Steve asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

It somehow pulls a smile on his face in the way only Steve can. “Not great, man. Better though now that I’m talking to you,” Eddie flirts shamelessly.

“Same here. But hey, I’ve actually been spending some time in my pool. The doctor told me that swimming isn’t too strenuous as long as I’m not doing laps back and forth like I used to. You should stop by sometime. Exercise usually gets my mind off things. Even floating around in the pool helps.”

Eddie let’s Steve’s voice wash over him and soothe all the aches in his body. Swimming or floating sounds nice, but being around Steve sounds even better. “I’ll stop by sometime then definitely.”

“Let me know if you need a ride or anything, alright? No shame in that.”

Eddie tried to hold back a sigh. He hates that people feel the need to take care of him after he’s handled himself all these years. “I’ll be fine, but thank you. When should I come by?”

“Literally whenever you want, man. I’d appreciate the company,” Steve replies sounding almost desperate for Eddie to stop by. It makes Eddie smile.

“I’ll see you some time soon then,” Eddie replies with a smile.

“Sounds great,” Steve says like he’s smiling equally as much as Eddie.

Eddie lets his heart yearn a little longer as he hears Steve breathing on the other line. He doesn’t want to say goodbye, he just wants to stay in this moment as long as he can. He hears a shuffle on the other line then the steady breathing again.

These are the moments that confuse Eddie the most. Whenever they call and they just linger on the line when they know the conversation should end just like the linger in each other’s space whenever they’re physically around each other. It makes Eddie’s heart race, but he tries to fight it. Steve isn’t into him like that. Sure, he stares at his lips a lot and lets him flirt with him and even sends him winks but… it’s not like that.

Steve deserves someone gorgeous. Some girl that isn’t covered in scars and missing their left damn nipple. Eddie sighs.

“You okay?” Steve asks. Eddie nearly jumps as he forgets Steve is still able to hear him on the other line.

“Yeah, man. Just…” Eddie trails off and runs a hand over his face before pulling the phone down and thudding his head back against the wall. “I think I love you,” Eddie mumbles, making sure the phone is far away and muffled against his stomach. He pulls it back up and continues. “I just have to go, but I’ll definitely take you up on your offer if it still stands.”

“Pool is always open for you, Eddie.”

The way he says his name sends chills down his spine. Fuck. “Thank you. I’ll talk to you soon I hope.”

“I hope so, too. Bye Eddie.”

“Bye Steve,” Eddie says and hangs up as soon as he can and gasps for air. Damn Harrington for making him so breathless.

He makes his way back to his room and digs through his drawers for his old swim trunks that he prays still fit. He finds them and pulls them on. He frowns.

They fit okay, but that’s not the problem. His scars are exposed in a way that make him want to cover up completely and never let Steve see this side of him. He feels… he sighs and looks away from his scars. He grabs the nearest shirt he can and tugs it over his head. He can just swim with it on. The scars of his ankles and legs are fairly small and less gruesome so he’ll be fine exposing them.

He turns to look in his mirror but stops. He knows if he sees himself, he won’t go to Steve’s. He knows the man won’t judge him but… looking won’t help convince him of that.

So, without taking another moment to consider, Eddie grabs his keys and wallet, slips on his shoes, and heads out of his trailer. It’s weird to be out in daylight with his scars partially on display, but he needs this.

The drive over is fairly quick. He bypasses the front door and just starts heading to the backyard. He hears the water splashing a bit before he’s greeted with the sight of Steve slightly wading around the shallow end.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, startling Steve. “Sorry,” Eddie says with a smile, “When you said anytime, did that mean today?”

“Of course, of course,” Steve says making his way to the steps of the pool. He may have said something else but all Eddie hears is his own conscious chanting Speedo, Speedo, Speedo.

And it is a lovely sight. Christ.

Eddie’s eyes fight to try to stay up. It helps when Steve snatches a towel off a nearby chair and wraps it around his waist. “Sorry,” Steve says sounding unapologetic.

“Don’t be,” Eddie flirts.

Steve winks and flirts back, “Sadly today wasn’t a skinny dipping day.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He hopes the water is cold.

“I’ll grab an extra towel for you, just give me a minute,” Steve says with a smile and heads inside.

Eddie takes a few deep breathes, removes his shoes, and sits by the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in. It’s warm.

The back door opens and Steve returns with a towel and two beers. Eddie makes grabby hands at the beer and Steve complies by opening one and giving it to him.

The cold liquid makes Eddie feel a little more alert as he stares at his feet in the water. He feels like his wet shirt against his body is going to be a harsh, uncomfortable reminder of swimming in the lake behind Reefer Rick’s place. He sighs and slowly starts removing his rings one by one before setting them by the poolside.

He slowly starts sliding forward into the pool but is stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. “Gonna take your shirt off first?”

Eddie scoots back and sits on the edge. He takes a big swig of his beer before shaking his head. Steve sits next to him and softly says, “I’m not pressuring you or anything, but it’ll feel nicer to not have wet clothes clinging against the scars.”

Eddie sighs and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t want you to see them,” Eddie says honestly.

“Why not?” Steve asks not offended or pushing it, just prompting him to continue.

Eddie sits up and looks at his feet in the pool again. “I’m scared of your reaction. Scared that you’ll find them hideous and find me hideous. I hate those damn gasps every time one of the kids sees my shirt lift or someone sees part of my face when I go out. But to see it all at once… is a whole new beast.”

Instead of responding, Steve slips into the pool in front of Eddie, the water coming up to his hips. He grabs Eddie’s hands and places them on his scars. “And what do you think when you see my scars?” Steve asks.

Eddie glances up at Steve’s eyes and hesitantly looks down. His heart skips a beat as he stares at them. He traces his fingertips lightly over them. “I think of the way you got them. The way you sacrificed yourself for us and risked everything for everyone else. The way you got blood on my vest but I didn’t care. You still somehow managed to defeat Vecna with those wounds still open. God, Steve. They’re absolutely gorgeous.” And he means it. Every word of it.

Steve’s hands come to the hem of Eddie’s shirt and slightly tug up. Eddie releases a deep breath and lifts his hands over his head, letting Steve pull the shirt off. When he’s free from it, he sees Steve staring down at his torso, eyes flicker over the scars before he slowly rests his fingers on them. The skin is sensitive and Steve’s fingers are cold and slightly wet, so Eddie shivers.

“You wanna know what I see?” Steve asks. Eddie’s tongue rests on the top of his lip as he nods. “I see the marks that show the way you sacrificed yourself to try to save Dustin. To distract the bats from the rest of us, which saved the us and helped us defeat Vecna. The marks that almost took you from us which destroyed everyone. The same ones that bond us, and are used as an excuse so I can reach out to you when I want to. They’re the marks that remind me of everything that you are. And they’re absolutely beautiful, Eddie. You don’t ever need to hide them around me,” he finishes his little speech settling between Eddie’s legs with his hand resting over the scars on his face.

Eddie feels a single tear slip down his face and wipes at it. “Thank you,” he breathes out and rests his forehead against Steve’s. He knows in this moment that he has to tell Steve. And with all the honesty that he’s already laid out he’s able to confess, “Steve, this might ruin things between us, but… I’m in love with your scars as much as I’m in love with you.”

Steve pulls away and searches Eddie’s eyes before huffing out a laugh, “Damnit, you beat me to it. Because I am absolutely in love with you - all of you.”

Eddie smiles so wide that he can feel the scars on his face tug up before he slips into the pool and seals his lips over Steve’s. His arms come up and trace the scars on Eddie’s side and Eddie mirrors him as he kisses and kisses and kisses him.

When they pull away to catch their breath, Steve says, “Let me show you how much I love all of your scars.” Then, he peppers kisses over each of Eddie’s scars, and Eddie thinks he might be in heaven.

[pandorasprongs]

JAMIE TARTT | i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: higgins' new assistant happens to be an old friend of the reader's, and their reunion hits jamie with major feelings of jealousy. when the team thinks that the pair of them are going on a date soon, jamie decides enough is enough.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i actually like this story a lot better especially the dialogue! + jealous!jamie was really fun to write HAHAHA i hope that all of you enjoy this and title is from the song '(you) on my arm' by leith ross :) also i apologize in advance i'm not the best at writing kissing scenes

You loved your job, truly. This was the first time you've had a decent, no, fucking amazing boss that didn't make you want to pull your hair out every time they called you into the office. 

But being Rebecca's assistant also meant that you sometimes had to help Higgins out with... well, whatever the Director of Football Operations does. It was fine in the beginning, just scheduling appointments and keeping track of ticket sales, but once Richmond got promoted, it felt like your work doubled.

It only took two weeks before you begged Rebecca to get Higgins an assistant of his own. Luckily, she obliged and asked Higgins to start interviewing possible candidates for the job. 

You hoped that whatever extra load you got due to Higgins occupying himself with selecting an assistant would be worth it from how much would be lifted off you when he did. So when you got the message from Rebecca to help delegate your duties to the new assistant, you practically ran to the clubhouse that morning.

You were too excited messaging your boss that you'd be there soon that you ended up bumping into someone near the entrance.

"Shit!" You exclaim as you almost lose your balance, but are steadied by the other person who turned out to be Jamie.

"Ay, watch where you're going, yeah?" Jamie warned casually, as he let go of your arms once you recovered.

"Sorry, Jamie." You straighten up and walk in with him. "I'm just really excited. Higgins finally picked an assistant and they're here today."

"Oh yeah, you were fucking drowning in work a few weeks ago." And by drowning, he meant it literally. The football player recalled seeing you walking past the locker room carrying a stack of papers taller than you were. You refused any help from the team, partly because they had to get to training and mainly because you didn't want them to see how the tear stains on some of the pages.

"Yeah," you chuckle at the memory. "But, after a few days of helping the new kid out, I'll finally be free." You stretch your arms up in the air and cheer. You were too busy celebrating to notice how soft Jamie's expression had become. 

He loved seeing you act yourself around him, a big jump from when you used to glare at him around the office. He had denied it for a while, but Jamie started to like you around the time he'd gotten back from Man City. 

You knew him before then, when he was a massive prick who stepped over — even literally at times, — his teammates. But after he returned, you felt bad for the guy for how the rest of the team was treating him, no matter if he deserved it. Ted had told you about what they talked about when Jamie approached him about joining the team again, and a part of you felt like he needed at least some kind of welcoming presence in the building. 

You started greeting him more often when you ran into each other in the halls and sometimes offered him the candies you keep in your desk drawer whenever he passed your desk, just small things. Jamie would usually just end up hanging out with you during his breaks because he didn’t have anyone else to spend it with. The first few times, he would just sit there in silence while you worked, but one “How’s your day going?” from you, and he was more than willing to chat.

Then, of course, he gradually regained the team’s trust and started hanging out with them, but even then, your little interactions with him didn't stop. He'd invite you whenever the team had a get-together and would sometimes drop bags of candies at your desk to "re-stock" your drawer. You just thought it was his way of returning your kindness. But what you didn't realize was that the star football player was starting to fall for you. 

Jamie tried to ignore it, saying to himself that he just felt indebted to you, but then it started to manifest in different ways. How he would try and come up with reasons to approach you the next day, how he'd get distracted whenever you had to visit the pitch during practice, and how your awkward habits became something he looked forward to. It's been a while since he felt like this about anyone and was more anxious about rejection than he's felt about any of his games, so he didn't make any obvious pass at you.

So now, as you asked the receptionist where the Director of Football Operations was, Jamie decided to wait for you to spend as much time with you as possible. 

You notice Jamie staying back and relayed the information to him. "Higgins is introducing them to the team, so I guess I'll be going with you to the locker room." You nudge him with your shoulder as you continue to walk through the building. You've always tried your best to ask casual with Jamie, possibly in an effort to make yourself feel normal around him and not constantly blushing every time he looked at you.

As you approach the room, you hear Higgins explaining what the new assistant would be doing for the players. "So if ever you need help with anything I've listed, you can go to Anthony Perez here, instead."

Anthony Perez. No fucking way. You and Jamie enter the locker room and are instantly greeted by the sight of an old friend.

"Anthony, you fucking bastard!" You scream enthusiastically, causing everyone in the room to turn to you, including Anthony. It takes him a second before registering who you were. The moment he does, he raises his arms and you practically leap into him for a hug.

"Oh my god!" Anthony exclaims, as he lets go of you and puts you down.

"I didn't know you were the new assistant!" You lightly smack his arm.

"I didn't know you even worked here!" He defends himself as the two of you turn to find the entire team's eyes on you, including Jamie's.

"Shit, sorry," You laugh as you make some distance between you and Anthony. "Didn't mean to make our reunion so dramatic."

"I assume you two know each other?" Higgins asks and you both nod.

"Anthony and I went to school together," You quickly explain. "From sixth form to uni. Of course, I haven't heard from him in two years." You jokingly glare, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Sorry, I got busy, okay?" He whispers an apology before you both chuckle again.

"Well, I hope your friendship will make it easier to help him get accustomed to the job." You smile at Higgins before the three of you excuse yourself to let the players get ready for training. 

You're so engrossed in catching up with Anthony that you didn't even notice the look Jamie was giving him. 

"They seem close!" Dani innocently says as he puts his shoes on.

"You don't think something is going on with them, do you?" Colin chimes in.

"Well, she's never even mentioned him before, so I doubt it," Sam argues, but Isaac shakes his head. "Nah bruv, that hug was way too intimate for just friends."

"I've seen her hug Keeley and Rebecca like that, too. That might just be how she greets her friends." Jan offers and the team continues to debate it, but at that point, Jamie has had enough. It was already shit having to watch that interaction, but having your teammates talk about it as you pretend not to care? It could not get any worse.

Jamie pulls out a can of body spray from his locker and slams it closed, before turning to everyone. "Can everyone just stop talking about it and get ready?" 

The room goes quiet, as the football player turns around and starts getting changed. The rest of the team exchange looks, before getting ready themselves. Most of them had a hunch that something was going on between the two of you but didn't have any proof, until now. They just hoped they were wrong about you and Anthony, in an attempt to stop Mt. Jamie from erupting.

——

For most players, if something happened right before training that put them in a sour mood, it would mess up their performance on the pitch. Of course, Jamie wasn't like most players. He might be playing even better during that training period. The coaches didn't even have to give him the signal; he was already in 'prick' mode. 

Maybe it was the appearance of Anthony or the fact that you had never been that excited to see him even though he thought you guys were becoming close, but he was playing aggressively and was much more focused than he needed to be for a practice game. The coaches started to take notice after he viciously tackled one of the second teams. 

"Whistle!" Roy shouts, pausing their game. Ted takes a step forward and shouts, "Hey Jamie! Love the passion, but those are still your teammates. Ya'll have a game next week, so better save that attitude for the real one."

"Okay, coach!" Jamie replies through gritted teeth. He takes a deep breath as they continue to play, trying to calm himself down. Ted was right; there was no point in taking out his anger here. Not when the source of said anger was just inside the building.

Once the morning session was over and they were off for lunch, Jamie headed over to Rebecca's office, expecting to see you waiting at the desk outside like you usually were, but instead, he almost runs into the owner of the football club.

"Jamie!" Rebecca exclaims, backing away from the football player to avoid a collision. "What brings you here?" He only needed to glance at the empty table for her to know what was going on. "Oh, well, if you're looking for her, better head to Mr. Higgins' office. She's helping his new assistant get used to the system." 

This causes the player's jaw to clench. Jamie mutters a quick thanks before heading to the Director of Football Operations' office, where he found you hunched over a chair and directing something on the laptop to Anthony.

You had spent the first hour of the day basically catching up with Anthony about what you've been doing the past few years. Once you ran out of stories though, you were forced to actually start teaching him what to do.

You started with the simple things like how to organize the emails, fixing the schedule, and what information to take note of, so you could ask your bosses' about it. Anthony's a quick learner, so you guys were making good progress. Once he practically mastered the routine, the two of you went to the clubhouse cafe to get some early lunch. Most of the food there was pre-packed and they’d usually just microwave it, but over the years, you've developed a fondness for them. You bring back the food to Higgins' office and continue to work on it till you hear someone clearing their throat.

You perk up when you realize who it came from. "Jamie! Hi, what're you doing here?"

Jamie's eyes bounce between the two of you, before settling on your own. "Well, I checked your desk but you weren't there, and Rebecca said you'd probably be here, so I went over here. And now I'm wondering if you wanted to get lunch?"

You move to say yes, but quickly back out when you remember the wrappers on the desk. "Oh, sorry Jamie, Anthony and I just ate something from the cafe cause we wanted to spend the lunchtime working on some emails. Maybe another time?" You try and hide the disappointment in your voice by giving Jamie a small smile.

Jamie's expression falters, but he quickly bounces back. "Sure, no problem. Bye," The football player waves at you — and just you, — before heading back downstairs. He shouldn't be acting like this. Feeling this dejected someone saying she can't have lunch with him?

You weren't fairing that well, either. Your shoulders slump once he disappears from view, then you turn back to Anthony who seems to be holding back a laugh. "What's with you?"

"Nothing, just amused at how even two years later, you still don't know how to talk to the guys you like."

You scoff at his response and hit his shoulder. "What do you mean? I do not like Jamie." You protest, which only causes Anthony to roll his eyes.

"Oh please, it's like you transformed back to a seventeen-year-old the way you got excited when he asked you to get lunch with him." You shake your head, but he continues. "It's clear as day that you have a crush on him."

“That word makes us sound like we're seventeen again," You retort, before redirecting the topic back to the task at hand.

But you knew he was right. Even back in the early days of working here, you couldn't deny that you found Jamie attractive. Anyone with eyes could see it, but he was dating Keeley and was a massive prick, so nothing ever came about from it.

Then, he started spending more time with you, checking up on you and stopping you in the halls just to chat. You realized that he was actually pretty sweet when he was off the pitch and you started to realize that you wanted to spend time with him, not just out of pity like before. Plus, you don't think he's seen anyone in a while, so there really was no reason for you to deny your feelings any longer.

Except, of course, the fear of getting rejected by him and ruining the steady and comfortable relationship you currently have. Which is a good reason, you think. You shake your head and try and continue your work in peace.

After spending your lunch writing up reports, it only took another hour to finish up both your and Anthony's duties, so the two of you update Higgins on your progress and ask if you could observe practice for a bit. He scans through your work, before happily letting the two of you go. The moment you get to the pitch, your eyes instantly look for Jamie who is doing pretty well, to no one's surprise. You join the coaches where they’re standing.

Anthony was already a big football fan, so he was able to recognize almost all of the players on the pitch. In fact, he was even saying things that you weren't aware of, despite your three years of working for the owner of a football club. He bends down to whisper a joke in your ear, but the amusement never hits because soon after, you hear O'Brien groaning in pain. You both look up to see Jamie already helping the goalkeeper up after kicking the ball right into his stomach. 

"Whistle! Tartt, stop fucking injuring your teammates!" Roy shouts, to which Jamie quickly apologizes. The practice game continues, but not without you leaning to ask Beard something.

"Coach, is Jamie okay? He seemed fine when I was with him earlier," You turn your head, as Beard continues to watch the practice.

"He's been playing like that all day. Something must've pissed him off." You open your mouth to say something, but Beard reads your mind. "No, we did not give him the signal." You nod before turning back to the game.

You meet Jamie's eyes as he runs across the pitch, and you take the opportunity to give him a smile and a thumbs up, hoping it encourages him somehow. He only nods his head in acknowledgment before continuing, but you can tell in the next few plays that he seems to be calming down. After a while, you and Anthony decide to head back to the office after Rebecca asks you to send some emails on her behalf.

Jamie watched the two of you head back to the building and tried to ignore that growing feeling when Anthony leaned down and rested his arm on your shoulders. He tries and shakes himself right before continuing the game, ignoring all the possibilities of why he’d do that.

The real reason was that Anthony had decided to tease you, whispering close, "Somebody likes you," in a sing-songy voice. "And his name is Jamie Tartt doo-doo-do-doo—"

That exact remark makes you jab his side. "Shut the fuck up, Anthony. He does not." Anthony lets it go as the two of you reach your desk and he leaves you to do your work, though you can't help but feel warm inside at the thought of it being true.

—

Once he gets changed after training, Jamie practically ran upstairs to find you. Usually, he'd offer to drive you home and before Anthony, you'd be too tired to be polite and say no. He stopped himself from sending a message to you once he realized that you had already left. Maybe she's with Anthony, but Jamie shakes his head because fuck that. Jamie Tartt does not get hung over a girl. At least, the old him didn't.

New Jamie had been starting to hope that you stayed in the office longer just so he could see you again, even if you would be busy doing work. He sighs as he decides to leave the building when someone jumps in front to scare him. "Boo!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he exclaims and steps back before seeing you losing your mind over his reaction. "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm sorry," You apologize in between your laughing fits. "I didn't realize how easily startled you were." After a few more seconds, you finally straighten up and lift two plastic bags.

Jamie gives you a confused look, before you explain, "When we went to watch training, Coach Beard said you've been playing like that the whole day which can only mean one thing; you're in a shit mood. And you don't have to tell me why, but,"

You hand him one of the bags and one whiff tells Jamie it's from that Indian restaurant he loves. "I thought some dinner would cheer you up," Jamie gives you a genuine smile, one you got used to seeing but always love when it shows up. “Because there’s nothing rich people love more than free food.” You add, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Plus, I wanted to make up for not having lunch with you, and celebrate the fact that I now actually have the time to do this again." You continue as the two of you walk over to Jamie's car.

You get in the passenger seat as Jamie turns the car on. The two of you have shared dinner there multiple times before, so you practically had a system for it, and Jamie always "pays you back" by giving you a ride home. You open all the dishes and Jamie quickly starts to devour it.

The two of you enjoy the dinner in silence, — except for the occasional "Pass the pita," or something of the sort — till Jamie decides to ask the burning question that’s been on his mind. "So, how did you and Anthony get so close?" It was an innocent question, but one whose answer could either ease Jamie's thoughts or amplify them ten-fold.

You look up at him, mid-bite, and quickly swallow the food, before replying, "Well, you already know we went to school together, but we were actually seated next to each other for a whole semester, so naturally we became close since we saw each other every day."

Jamie starts to clean up the empty containers but signals you to continue. "To be honest, I kinda liked him back then." Oblivious to how tense Jamie just got, you laugh. "But the crush didn't last long honestly, cause I realized that he wasn't really my type." 

Jamie takes the opportunity. "What is your type, then?"

"Oh, hot footballers, naturally." You decide to give a somewhat honest answer, but cloak it in a layer of sarcasm to hopefully throw Jamie off. "Like Richard," You try and convince Jamie with your tone, but you can barely hold in your laughter afterward.

"Oh fuck off," Jamie rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh even harder. "I'm telling him that tomorrow."

"Jamie Tartt, you fucking wouldn't!" You spend the rest of the ride to your flat trying to get him to promise to say nothing, which ends with a pinky promise to secrecy.

—

The next few days are a mix of hanging out with Anthony, eating meals with Jamie, and finishing up work so you can spend the rest of the day chilling at your desk. You almost forgot what it felt like to have free time and actually relax during work breaks.

You arrive at the clubhouse and immediately head to the Coach's office as per Rebecca's instructions to deliver some documents for the season. There, you meet up with Anthony who also had to bring something to Ted.

When you realize the coach hasn't arrived yet, you decide to wait outside the locker room. Anthony turns to you. "Hey, I forgot to tell you yesterday, but Mina's visiting!" Mina was Anthony's girlfriend and also your former classmate, who once again, you haven't seen in two years. You perk up and ask when you’d get the chance to see her.

Anthony pulls out his phone before responding, "I can make a reservation for us somewhere at, 7 pm?" You quickly scan your mental to-do list and once you realize your schedule is free, you nod.

"Yeah, that works! We'll both be done with work, anyway." 

The two of you are busy planning out your meeting with Mina that you don't notice Isaac and Colin eavesdropping as they make their way to the locker room. From the snippet that they heard, it sounded like the two of you were planning a night out, confirming their suspicions that there was something going on between the two of you.

They share this with Sam, who tries to reason with them. "Friends can go out to dinner without it meaning anything!"

But as they continue discussing it, the more it becomes harder to deny. I mean, the two of you were always together and not to mention, your shared history. They try and hide this from Jamie, — partly to save themselves from the football player's wrath during training, — but once the morning session was over, they crowd him and quickly explain the situation.

At this moment, Jamie didn't even protest their assumption of his feelings — he had accepted that he wasn’t the best at hiding it from them, — and simply stayed silent, which was incredibly worrying. They decide to leave him be and walk back to their lockers, trying to figure out a game plan. They thought you and Jamie would be great together and a guy from your past was not going to stand in the way of their teammate finding someone, not if they have anything to do with it.

Soon after, Anthony enters the locker room and calls out to Sam. The pair walk away to talk and Anthony starts, "Do you happen to have an open table at Ola's tonight? I'm planning to take someone special there and I know how great the food is."

"Well," Sam considers saying that they're fully booked — which big chance, they are, — and there's nothing he could do, but his guilt at even the thought of lying takes over. "Sure, don't worry." Anthony smiles and thanked the player before heading out, but not before promising that he'd send him the proper details later.

Sam heads back to his two teammates and explains what happened, to which Isaac suggests booking the whole restaurant for the team, crashing their date, and making sure they have no alone time together. Colin adds that they can possibly put something in Anthony's food to force him to go home earlier, which Sam quickly shuts down. They turn to Jamie to get his input, only to find an empty bench instead.

Said teammate was already making his way to your desk to talk. Maybe it was the adrenaline from practice or the fact that he drank three cups of coffee this morning after Roy's training session, but he wasn't going to let you go on that date without saying something.

Jamie makes it up the stairs and finds you typing away at your computer. You meet his eyes for a second, before warning, "Hold on, I'm just finishing this email."

The football player decidedly ignores that statement and exclaims, "Don't go on that date." That gets you to save the email as a draft and look up from your screen. Jamie walks closer to you and you stand up, and steer him to a remote corner. If this was what you thought it was, you’d rather not have the entire office witness it go down.

"I'm sorry, what?" You try and clarify.

"Look, some of the boys told me that you and Anthony are going out tonight and I," Jamie takes a breath, "I couldn't let you go through with it. At least, without admitting that I like you. I have liked you for a while now. I didn’t realize that someone could be so sweet and funny and attractive. It’s fucking insane actually, which is why if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with you as I can. And I know it’s stupid of me to not have admitted it till it’s too late, but if by chance you feel the same, then please do not go on that date and instead, maybe go on one with me?”

You take a step back. The guy who you've secretly been pining over for how many months at this point is now trying to stop you from going on a "date,” and so the only thing you can do is stare at him. You stay like that for a second before regaining your senses and taking his hand into yours and giving him a small smile. "Jamie…"

If there was any right time to admit your feelings, this would be it. You open your mouth to continue, but hear Anthony call out to you. You peek over the corner and when Anthony spots you, he quickly shouts, "Look who stopped by!" and moves to reveal Mina.

"Oh my god, you're here!" You exclaim, but turn back to Jamie who has stopped in his tracks and is still holding your hand. You quickly excuse yourself, "It's so nice to see you, but could you actually give me a minute?"

The couple gives you a curious look before Jamie peeks his head over the corner and Anthony immediately understands. The two of them go back downstairs, and you assume Anthony uses the time to explain to Mina what’s going on.

You turn back to Jamie, hoping that the moment isn't ruined, and find the football player still looking at you intently. You decide to get on with it. "Jamie, I don't know why the team thought we were going on a date, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The girl you just saw is Anthony's girlfriend, Mina, who we also went to school with." Jamie makes an 'o' with his mouth in realization and you lightly chuckle at his expression.

"She's visiting him for the weekend and we're planning to go out to dinner, the three of us, to catch up. I'm basically going to be a third-wheel all night." At this point, Jamie's expression is a cross of embarrassment and anger, likely directed at his gossiping teammates.

Your mind replays Jamie’s confession earlier. "Jamie, did you mean what you said?" Your voice is practically a whisper, but you just have to be sure. "Like right before we got interrupted?"

Instead of giving you a solid answer, Jamie lets go of your hand and cups your face before connecting your lips. It was a soft and gentle kiss as if the football player was still hesitant, but once you reciprocated it, Jamie's confidence came right back. Fuck, and he had every right to be as cocky as he was. He was an amazing kisser.

You're pressed up against the wall, almost getting lost in it, but you break apart to stop it from escalating further when you feel Jamie's hand travel to your thigh.

"Is that enough of an answer for you?" He asks, resting his forehead against yours as you take hold of his forearms. You simply roll your eyes at how easily Jamie returns to his usual self.

You peak down the corridor and thank the universe that no one passed by during this. The two of you separate and decide to head back downstairs — with Jamie never letting go of your hand, — so you could properly greet Mina.

As you walked, you decide to jokingly question, "Were you really that worried about me going on a date that you had to go all rom-com and tell me not to go?" 

Jamie protests, "Well, it's more of the boys' fault, isn't it? They're the ones who got in my head." He pauses for a second. "And don't act like you never wanted something like that to happen to you."

You jab his side and Jamie pretends to be in pain, before laughing it off and slinging his arm on your shoulders. You wrap your arm around his torso. "Only if it's 'one in a million' Jamie Tartt doing it."

You finally find Anthony and Mina in the locker room, with the former introducing her to the players there as his girlfriend. Jamie enters to find the three culprits, looking guiltily at the couple. Minutes after Jamie left, Sam had gotten a text from Anthony saying that their reservation was for three and explained that you were coming along for a reunion dinner with his girlfriend.

The moment they see the two of you enter the room though, Colin, Isaac, and Sam can't help but share a satisfied look, only to be ruined by the glare Jamie sends their way. You laugh at the exchange and only remove yourself from Jamie to greet Mina. You give her a tight hug, confirming Jan's observation that you did greet most of your friends like that.

You pull Jamie towards you and introduce him to Mina, who shares the same teasing look as Anthony. The couple waves at the team to leave and get lunch together. They invite you to join them which you accept, but not before grabbing and squeezing Jamie's hand as a goodbye. The three of you walk away, discussing nearby cafes and restaurants. You hear some cheering from the locker room and you can't help but laugh at how easily the boys reconcile.

Once there's enough distance between yourself and the room, Anthony leans down. "Guess you finally figured out how to talk to boys."

"Who knew it would be Jamie fucking Tartt that managed to get you out of your shell?" Mina adds and you roll your eyes at the pair. They really were made for each other.

[thecommunityfridge]

The Eye Roll

TW: Ageplay, diapers, humiliation, bedwetting, spanking, manipulation

This story was inspired by and costars (with her permission) the wonderful @dearchloe. Go check out her amazing work!

"No, Mister, no way! You have wet the bed five of the last six nights. I am done playing around. Five nights of wet pull-ups in a week means you sleep in the nursery until you can prove you deserve otherwise. No exceptions!" Miss Chloe lectured me as she fought to get me diapered and dressed for bed.

Miss Chloe, the domineering British woman who had shown up at my door one day, declared she was my Nanny, and somehow took over my life like an AB/DL Mary Poppins, wasn't wrong. I had wet the bed five of the last six nights, and I had invoked her prescribed consequence of having to move into my guest room turned nursery until I could prove I could keep my pants dry overnight.

Of course, it didn't matter to Miss Chloe that my accidents had all been her fault.

She had made me drink all that water right before bed every night, because 'I was too dehydrated.' She carefully monitored whether I got out of bed at night, spanking me for getting up before I had 'slept' a full ten hours, because 'I needed to get a good night's rest.'

How was I supposed to keep my pull-up dry when I was spanked every time I made a very necessary midnight run to the plastic potty she kept in her room, the only toilet I was allowed to use?

There was no use in explaining the unfairness of it all to Miss Chloe though. Each time I talked back, I was met with some explanation with infallible logic about how she was right, and I needed to just accept the well-deserved consequences of my actions. It was infuriating.

So, this time, instead of trying to justify my predicament, or talking back as Miss Chloe termed it, I tried a new tactic. I rolled my eyes hard, like a bratty preteen, turned my back on my self-declared Nanny, and said, "Whatever," with as much cool disdain as I could muster.

That was a bad idea.

Miss Chloe immediately rounded on me, getting in front of me, and cutting off any means of escape.

"Oh my! I didn't know my little poppet's eyes were so tired! That was quite the eye roll, Little One!"

I looked at my caretaker confused. Miss Chloe was usually much more in tune with why I did something than this. My eye roll wasn't because I was tired. It was a sign of disrespect and rebellion. It was a manifestation of my frustration with her domineering attitude.

I tried to tell Miss Chloe as much when she immediately cut me off.

"I mean, your eyes ~must~ be tired, because I know that a good little boy like you would never roll your eyes at me on purpose! If that was the case, why, I think you would definitely have to take a trip over Nanny's lap to be reacquainted with Mrs. Spoon!"

I physically swallowed my words. Miss Chloe had proven to be a savant with 'Mrs. Spoon,' and I was not ready to risk her wraith again.

"No! Of course not Miss Chloe, my eyes just must, um, be, very tired! It is bedtime after all!" I responded, backtracking faster than a cat walking in on a room of dogs playing poker.

"That's what I thought, you poor little thing. Let Miss Chloe help with that!"

My Nanny caressed my face as she spoke before placing a hand lightly on my back, leading me into the nursery I had been working so hard to avoid.

"I have just the thing to help those tired, little eyes of yours! Now stay right here!" Miss Chloe directed me, leaving me standing in the middle of the room. Standing there, I couldn't help but feel like the giant changing table, crib, and other furniture was silently standing guard over me as I listened to the warden of my infantile prison rummage through a dresser drawer behind me.

"Found it!" Miss Chloe exclaimed.

I felt her presence approaching behind me before, suddenly, the world went black. Something soft and totally opaque obstructed my vision. I raised my hands to pull the intruding object off my face only to hear as much as feel a loud smack as my hands were batted away.

"Nuh uh, my adorable little poppet. You leave that blindfold on! Those silly little eyes of yours need rest! Covering them and taking a much needed ni-night is the only fix for such worn out little peepers," Miss Chloe's said, her voice circling me as she spoke.

With the blindfold on, I felt so little and vulnerable. Despite this room being in my house for years, it's recent conversion to a nursery made it feel strange and foreign to me. Now, completely blind, I felt more like I was lost in some foreign country than in a room in my own home.

I strained my hearing, trying to catch any details to make me feel more comfortable in the nursery.

From my right, I could hear the soft hiss of the oil diffuser, emitting a soft, lavender scent. Behind me, a light ticking came from the small clock on the wall. From all around me, Miss Chloe's steps sounded soft and muffled by the clean, soft shag carpeting under her feet as she circled me.

"Alright, Little One! Let's get you ready for bed!" Miss Chloe's voice suddenly came from behind me.

Before I could turn, I felt the sharp tug of the shorts and pull-up I was wearing being yanked down from behind me. I felt my cheeks warm as cool air assaulted my exposed groin.

"Step!" Nanny ordered, lightly tapping my right leg.

I complied, lifting my right leg, listening to the crinkle of the pull-up as Miss Chloe removed my foot from my pullies' leg hole.

"Other foot!" Nanny's voice rang out from below me.

Just as before, I raised my leg as Nanny pulled my foot out of my shorts and pull-up. The sound of light rustling of my disposable undergarments my reward for compliance.

"Good job, poppet! You kept your pullies dry all day!" Miss Chloe said with a joy and sincerity in her voice that made her sound more like she was talking to a three-year-old than me, the 30-year-old standing half naked before her.

My blush deepened at her words.

"Thanks, Miss Chloe."

I wished I could see her facial expressions so I could at least guess at what she had in store for me next. Instead, I had to settle for the sharp sound of her hands clapping together.

"Alright, arms up! We're almost ready for jammies!"

With gentle hands, I felt my Nanny lift the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, careful not to knock off the strip of cloth cutting off my vision. I heard Miss Chloe giggle once I was completely naked.

"There's my big boy! All nakey and ready for jammies!"

I felt Miss Chloe's hand wrap around mine and pull me forward. Hesitantly, but trusting that my self-appointed caregiver wouldn't let me hurt myself on accident, I let myself be led to the changing table that I knew from my memory was our destination.

"Hop on up!" Miss Chloe's voice intoned from beside me once we reached the table.

Delicately, I reached out and felt the soft padding and heard the loud crinkle of the plastic covered mattress set on top of the childish piece of furniture. Carefully, I lifted one leg into the table, only to be greeted by more soft crinkles. More confident, I lifted my second leg, getting my whole naked body carefully placed in the table.

I jumped a little as Miss Chloe's soft hands reached out for me, guiding me into the best position on the soft, cold plastic. With each movement of my body, I was reminded of my embarrassing situation by the crinkle of plastic.

Once I was safely on my back, without saying a word, Miss Chloe went to work.

I heard the soft rustle of fresh padding as she grabbed a diaper from under the changing table. The rustle only got louder as she folded and fluffed it.

I heard the sound of skin-on-skin before I felt it. The gentle slap to the side of my ass beckoned me to lift my naked tushy so Miss Chloe could slide the diaper underneath me. Resigned to my fate, I complied with the silent order, listening to the sound of the diaper sliding on the waterproof mattress on the changing table as the babyish garment was placed underneath me.

Still blind to the world, the next sound I heard was the almost imperceptibly noise of powder falling over my crotch. The sweet smell of talcum told me that Miss Chloe intended for me to stay in this padded monstrosity for at least my prescribed 10 hours of sleepy time tonight.

The diaper rustled again as my Nanny folded it up over my loins. The sound of the tapes being pulled and the light pressure of them being pressed flat signaled the end of my humiliating diapering was near.

"Perfect! A perfectly padded and properly protected little poppet!" Miss Chloe announced as I felt her gentle hands help me down from the changing table. "Now to get the sleepy boy into his jammies!"

I listened as Miss Chloe walked to the dresser pulled something out and returned to me.

As she did, I squeezed my legs together, marvelling at the thick feel of the diaper as well as how noisy it seemed in the otherwise quiet nursery. I didn't have long to examine my embarrassing new underwear before my Nanny returned with what was presumably pajamas.

In the reverse of being undressed, I stepped into what I could feel was a soft, fleece footie sleeper. I followed Miss Chloe's soft but firm instructions as she dressed me without question. Being blind to the world adding to my fear of the caring but dominate woman and made me more compliant.

The last noise as I was dressed was the tell-tale whir as the zipper was pulled up from behind me. The familiar noise signalling I was ready to be tucked into the horrible crib for the next ten hours.

"You're so adorable!" Miss Chloe preened as she guided me to the crib, my diaper whispering out my infantile state with each step.

Miss Chloe helped lift me into the tall piece of furniture. She helped me lay down, covering me with a soft blanket, before handing me what was I knew was a comically large baby bottle.

"Drink up!" my Nanny ordered as I heard her slide the side of the crib back in place, locking it with a sharp click.

I lifted the bottle to my lips and filled my ears with the gentle sucking sound that could only come from someone nursing the rubber teat of a bottle. A soft lullaby started playing from above me, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned on the mobile dangling over the bed.

A new click came from by the door, signalling that Miss Chloe had turned out the lights (a pointless gesture given I was already blindfolded).

"Goodnight, my sweet boy! Rest those tired eyes!" my Nanny called out as she shut the door to the nursery, locking me in.

As I lay suckling my bottle, diapered, blindfolded, and locked away in a crib, I couldn't help but relax. Maybe, I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep and as I had many times before, Miss Chloe was right, and being put to bed in the nursery wasn't so bad.

[kaybug88]

Shoto Todoroki x Fem!Teacher!Reader

December 17th:

Shoto Todoroki x Teacher!Reader

"How much did this cost?" "Besides the point, do you like it?"   "Of course I do.”

Note: No use of Y/N!

TW: Upsettingly cute fluff, use of pet names (Angel, Love)

WC:

Requested: Nope!・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Finally, lunch.

You love your class, truly, you do, but they are wild; so now you're having your very much deserved break at your desk reading the little note Shoto put in your lunch.

Happy 5th anniversary, Angel. Hope your day is just as lovely as you are, and I can't wait to see you for our date tonight. Left you a new dress on our bed, just for my gorgeous girl.

-Love, your Shoto ♡

Smiling at the note, you pull open your wooden desk drawer and place it with the ever growing pile of notes. Even if you made the lunches, he always leaves notes the night before. Thinking over the words ‘Happy 5th anniversary’ is honestly weird, when you started dating he was just approaching top ten on the hero rankings, now, he was sitting proud in the top three. Smiling, you sink your teeth into your meal, a satisfactory hum leaving your lips. Before you know it, lunch is over and your students are piling into their seats. Putting a piece of gum in your mouth, you get up and get ready to start your personal favorite subject with this class; art. 

“Alright, who’s ready for some art?”

You ask your excited kindergarteners who’re all very clearly excited for some time to draw, even if you can’t tell what they’re drawing half the time. After getting the excited kids to quiet down, you continue.

“Today, we’ll be drawing. . . Heroes!”

You said happily, which caused the kids to cheer louder. You chuckle as they break out into their own little conversations about what to draw.

“I’m gonna draw Deku! He’s the best!”

“Nu-uh! Ururavity is better!”

“You’re both wrong, obviously Dynamight is the best!”

“I think Shoto is the best.”

“Chargebolt and Red Riot are awesome!”

“What about Creati? She’s amazing!”

You chuckle at hearing your students converse as you set out paper, crayons, colored pencils, and markers before walking back to the front of the class.

“Alright, everyone! Eyes up front.”

You say to the class, which almost every pair of big eyes turn to you. You clap your hands and prepare to talk.

“Now, I have a very big secret. Think you guys can keep it if I tell you?”

You say, getting eager nods and courses of yeses.“Alright. Well, I have a very special friend who can get your drawings to your favorite heroes to sign for you,  but in order for them to sign it, I need you all to be very good for the rest of the week. How does that sound?”

The children go berserk. They all get so excited at the fact you can get their lil’ ol’ kindergartner drawings signed by their favorite pros. How cool! After giving your class a reminder of how they have to be good for their pictures to be signed, they sit back down and get real’ quiet. You have each table send one person up to grab a box of pencils, markers, and a paper for everyone in their group.

You can see each student working hard at their drawings, their little tongues poking out with brows furrowed is both cute and funny to watch.Walking around the room you see multiple drawings of your friends. Lots of Deku, Dynamite, and Shoto, with the occasional sprinkle of Red Riot, Chargebolt, Ururavity, Earphone Jack, and a few others.

-

Grading. How fun. After all your students went home for the day, you had to stay in the class grading. Sure, it wasn't terrible, but it takes away from the time you could be spending picking up the house or getting ready for your date.

Shoot. Your date with Shoto.

You hastily check the clock and notice you've got three hours until your date. Now, that sounds like plenty of time. However, it's not nearly enough time when you include scrolling through Pinterest on makeup that'll match your dress, finding shoes that would look cute, scrolling on social media, showering and doing your hair! Not only that, but there's probably snow and ice on the roads. You quickly check how much grading you’ve got done, and decide you’ve gotten enough done today. 

-

You don’t think you’ve ever gotten home as quickly as you did today. Hastily parking your car, you dash inside, shoes click-clacking against the concrete driveway, that Shoto so kindly shoveled this morning before you left for work, up to your house. You fumble the keys before unlocking the door and dashing up to the room.

Upon entering the room, your jaw drops. The dress is gorgeous. Most gorgeous dress you've ever seen in fact. Brand new golden golden heels are laid next to the long black dress, they're pointed at the front and have a band that rests just above the ankle.

The dress is a whole different story though. It's long, flowy and feels like velvet. The fabric lays off the shoulder and the sleeves are long, golden rhinestones are embedded into the fabric along your cleavage and sleeves. There's a high slit that reaches about mid-thigh. On the chest of the black dress is a gold necklace and a thick golden ring.

You feel as though you can't breathe, not one bit. Carefully, you run your fingers over the delicate cloth. You let out a shaky breath before pulling out your phone to text Shoto.

Smiling to yourself, you grab your charger before heading to the bathroom to begin getting ready. Getting ready for your date tonight has got to be one of the most exciting things, and nerve-wracking things you've done in a while. Shoto was right, the dress fit you perfectly. Tight in all the right places, while keeping it classy. You almost cried at one point because of how pretty you looked, key word almost. After you're done getting ready, you feel as though this would be a perfect opportunity for a picture after walking back into your shared bedroom.

-

When Shoto arrives, exactly at the time he told you, you're scrolling on your phone. You haven't been here long, no more than ten minutes.

“Hello, love.”

He greets as he sits down across from you. He looks so good in a suit, it's a little upsetting that other women get to see him in it. He must notice that you're staring because he speaks up.

“Did I do something?”

He asks, his face falling ever so slightly.

“What? No, not at all! You just look so handsome.”

You reassure as he sits down. He looks. . . Nervous almost. Is he nervous? You brush it off before starting a conversation.

“How was work today? Saw that chase on the news today while the kids were doing some writing.”

You ask before glancing down at the menu, seeing a long list of salads, sushi, steaks and other amazing sounding foods.

“It was good, that chase was the most eventful thing I did.”

You hum before stealing a look outside the widow you've been seat next to, soft snowflakes beginning to fall.

-

And that's how the whole date goes. He's clearly nervous, and when you tried to ask him if he was alright, he brushed it off and only seemed worse! Why in the world would he be nervous, you've never really seen him nervous before. What in the world could be on his mind?

By the time you’ve left and paid the bill, you’re a little concerned. After you left, Shoto took you to  your favorite garden, and it looks absolutely stunning now that it’s winter. Cherry blossom trees have snow decorating each and ever brach, the small stream below you having froze over. Snow covered fairy lights are strung across traditional Japanese arches made of red wood. No matter your mood or the day, you’re always brought to peace here, and something that makes this place so special is that Shoto asked you to be his girlfriend here.

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

You ask Shoto after a pregnant pause. His steps stutter ever so slightly and you quirk a brow in response. Okay, something is definitely on his mind.

“Actually there is something on my mind.”

He says after letting out a small breath. Neither of you speak until you reach the bridge, exactly where he asked you to be his girlfriend.

“What’s goin’ on, Sho?”

You ask a little nervously. He’s clearly having trouble figuring out how to say what he wants from the way his brows furrow and mouth opens and closes ever so slightly.

“So, Angel, do you know why I love you as much as I do?”

You’re shaking. Is he proposing? Is he breaking up with you? Oh dear, is he breaking up with you?!

“Why?”

You ask with a shaky breath, eyes glossing over at the thought of him breaking up with you or proposing. You still can’t quite tell what he’s doing.

“Well, you’re smart. You’re strong. You’re a hard worker. You’re brave. You’re kind. You’re respectful. You aren’t afraid to be yourself. I love how you always look out for others, and I simply can’t get enough of you.”

He goes on to say while slowly going down onto his left knee, a small black velvet box moving from his pocket and to his hand. How hadn’t you seen the imprint of the box?

“Will you marry me?”

You’re shaking and tears are clouding your vision, and you’re more than sure makeup is streaming down your face. 

“Of course! Yes, yes, yes!”

You cried as you got down and hugged him as tightly as you could. You know you’re getting  tears and probably  mascara on his suit, but you couldn’t care less right now.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

A/N: Stop, I actually loved this 🥹🫶

[moonstruckme]

Burnt Out

summary: when you're overworking yourself trying to please everyone, Remus wants you to take some time for yourself

cw: mention of not eating, exhaustion 

Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus is reading in your bedroom when he hears the door open, screaming on its hinges, and slam shut. Just that noise lets him know what kind of day you’re having, but he gets up and moves towards the sound anyway, eager to see you.

“Dove?” he calls as he enters the kitchen, where he finds you already surrounded by sandwich supplies, slathering jelly onto a piece of bread you’ve placed directly onto the counter in your rush.

You turn around at his voice. “Remus, hi!” You beam, surging toward him. 

He catches you as you stumble, clipping your hip on the corner of the counter, and a soft, sympathetic hiss escapes him. “Careful,” he murmurs, covering the spot with his hand protectively as you press yourself to his chest, your arms winding around his neck. Remus brings his other hand to the center of your back, squeezing gently, and he wishes he could pour his affection into you this way, through the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry,” you say into his neck, though he’s unsure why you’re apologizing to him. It’s your poor hip that’s been slighted. “I didn’t know you were home.” 

“I haven’t been here long,” he assures you. 

You pull back, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that feels like it’s over before it’s begun, and he tries in vain to hold onto you as you move away. You resume rushing around the kitchen, letting cabinets and drawers bang shut behind you. Ordinarily you move almost silently, always easing the front door shut behind you and moving around the apartment on socked feet, much to Remus’ amusement when he comes into the living room to find you curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and dinner already in the oven, and he wasn’t even aware you were home. But on your busiest days, you turn into this—what he’s affectionately dubbed your Tornado of Productivity—and the time it takes to be your usual quiet, careful self simply doesn’t serve your goal of functioning at maximum efficiency. You’d been in this state for the last few days, never seeming to have more than a few minutes’ break between work and school and the myriad of social obligations Remus suspects you only agree to because of the guilt you’ve associated with the word “no.”

“How was your day?” Remus asks probingly. 

You blow out a breath that answers his question before you do. “Crazy,” you admit, washing a tomato in the sink. “I had a test at noon, and I didn’t study yesterday because I thought I’d have time this morning, but then I had to go in to work.” 

He feels his brow furrow. “Didn’t you work last night?”

“Yeah, but—” you absentmindedly grab a knife from the drawer, then another, until finally you find the one you need “—Mia didn’t sleep well last night, so I told her I could take her shift.” 

“Dove.” Remus tries to keep his reprimanding tone gentle. “You barely slept last night either.”

“I know,” you sigh again, and you sound so exhausted Remus wants to seize you and swaddle you in blankets so you have no choice but to rest. Get you in bed and kiss the crease between your eyebrows until it fades away. Give you the cosseting you deserve. “But she asked for my help, and—anyway, I don’t feel great about the test since I only had a few minutes to study right before.”

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I’m sure it went better than you think.”

You flash him a kind, if somewhat forced, smile. “Thanks.” You’ve just finished the sandwiches, of which Remus now notices there are three. Three completely different sandwiches: peanut butter and jelly, ham and cheese, and something involving lettuce and tomato. He can’t imagine what you need that variety for, but he rarely understands what you’re up to when you’re this scatterbrained. Your mission nearly complete, you seem to be short-circuiting in the middle of the kitchen, standing with your hands raised as if prepared for your next task and your features scrunched up bemusedly. 

“Plates?” Remus suggests gently. 

“No, sorry—I need, um—” You shake your head as if chastising yourself. “Tupperware. I need tupperware.” You roll your eyes, seemingly at your own forgetfulness. It makes Remus feel defensive, though to defend you against yourself seems like a conflict of interests. You open the cabinet above your microwave, reaching for the containers. “Marlene and Mary want to meet, but I haven’t had time to eat since breakfast…” You appear sheepish at Remus’ exasperated look, but he doesn’t interrupt. “...so I said I’d make us all sandwiches.” 

You’re struggling to reach the tupperware, and Remus nudges you out of the way, passing them to you. “Dove,” he says, using his new proximity to set his hands on your shoulders, preventing you from dashing off again, “don’t you think you need some time to rest? You’ve had a long day, I’m sure the girls will understand you wanting to meet another time.” You bite your lip, anxious at the idea of canceling on your friends. “And,” he adds lightly, “I wouldn’t mind getting to spend some time with you too. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you the last few days.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen, so instantaneously guilty he wishes he could take it back. “I’m so sorry, Remus, you’re right. I, um.” Your brow furrows, gaze moving over his shoulder to some faraway place, and Remus can see your overworked gears turning again, your fatigued brain struggling to solve this new dilemma. “I have class in the morning, but I shouldn’t be home too late tonight if—or, I actually have about fifteen minutes before I’m meeting Mary and Marl, do you want to hang for a bit now and then maybe walk with me?”

“I want you to take time for yourself,” Remus says firmly, though not unkindly. “I’m not trying to give you another task, love, I promise.” He lets his hands drop from your shoulders to where your fingers are fidgeting anxiously, easing his own between them. “But you’re spreading yourself too thin. Marlene and Mary love you, and that’s not gonna change if you don’t always have time to meet when they do.” You slouch slightly against the counter, beginning to resign yourself unhappily to the idea of staying in, and Remus kisses the top of your head sympathetically. “You can put your sandwiches in the fridge so they stay ready for you, and I’ll make us whatever you want for dinner. Pasta?” he asks, to sweeten the deal. 

Your gaze meets his again, your interest piqued. “That sounds amazing.”

“Alright, pasta,” he says decisively, smiling at you solely so you’ll smile back. It works, and he’s pleased to note that it looks a bit less strained than before. He begins herding you towards the living room, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he imagines he can see the guilt in your eyes slowly fading away as you let them droop slightly, giving into the relaxation Remus is peddling so persuasively. “And we can watch a movie, and cuddle, yeah?”

You hum assent, releasing a little sigh of contentment as you sink into the couch cushions and giving Remus your sweetest, most adoring look as he settles in beside you, covering you with a blanket. “Thank you,” you say, packing the words with enough sincerity to make Remus’ heart ache. “I’ll try to…cut back, a bit.” 

“No one will hold it against you,” he promises, knowing you need to hear it, “and if they do, send them to me for a scolding.”

You grin. “That would be a cruel punishment, I’m not sure I could do that to some poor soul.” You tilt your chin upwards, and he meets you halfway, the kiss lingering and sweet. You brush your thumb tenderly along Remus’ jaw as you pull away, and he knows what you’re feeling before you open your mouth. The same sentiment echoes through his chest. “I love you,” you whisper, like it’s a sacrament. “Promise you’ll still love me back if I meet up with the girls tomorrow and pencil you in for after?”

Remus huffs a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Alright, love, I promise.” 

[thevegandarkelf]

QOTU: A Little Friendly Competition Part 1

Summary: Going on dates wasn’t always a guaranteed good time. Vec has had her fair share of shitty dates, but the nerves she had for this particular one were for a different reason. She truly liked this one, and she wanted it to go well. Thankfully, Scud shared the same sentiment, and it made for one of the best nights of their lives.

Third installment is finally here! Apologies that this one took longer than I anticipated. We get to see Vec & Scud's first date. I've been so excited to post this one, it's kinda stupid. I hope this pleases the council ('the council' is what we have dubbed our QOTU readers).

PS the shirt he's wearing is the one from the movie where he's talking to Whistler about his scars, just FYI. He just looks so good in it I had to use it. And massive thank you to @dixons-sunshine for help with the summary 🖤

Era: Pre-apocalypse, a bit over a year before the outbreak

Word count: 8.1k (this is my longest one-shot to date and it's only part 1 lmao I'm so sorry)

CW for swearing, some suggestive commentary. You are responsible for your own consumption.

We're also cross-posting on AO3 if you prefer to read it there!

My AO3 Krys' AO3

Upon hearing the vibration against the wood, Vec took her phone off her dresser, a small smile gracing her lips when she realized it was a message from him. Running a hand through her hair and brushing her bangs from her eyes, she opened the message, blood flowing to her cheeks and turning them from their normal pale to baby pink.

Josh ☺️: I can’t wait to see you later. It’s been too long 😉

They’d been talking for weeks, texting on and off throughout each day and even having a few phone calls in the evenings. During one of those phone calls was the first time he called her “Vee,” which quickly became his special nickname for her. Immediately following that conversation, she ran to Georgie, standing in her bedroom doorway and blinking repeatedly before whispering “he has a nickname for me” in the most lovesick tone possible.

She’d hardly stopped talking about this ‘cutie with the bandana’ in recent weeks. Now, it was time to make their first date a reality.

“What kind of makeup are you thinking?” Georgie asked. She began rifling through a stack of eyeshadow palettes Vec kept on her dresser, opening each to examine the colors before setting them down. “I know you usually like to keep it lighter on first dates.”

“Nah, I’m wearing that full-coverage shit,” Vec commented, pulling a small glass bottle of foundation from the drawer, “I’m not about to be looking like a tomato all night long.”

She spent hours curling her hair, having to take a break halfway through and recruiting her best friend to help finish the job when her arms got tired.

“Gin, can you help me?” Vec practically begged as she stepped out into the living room, half of her head in curls while the other remained pin straight.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask,” Georgie chuckled, setting her stack of papers on the glass coffee table to join her in the bathroom. Every time Vec curled her hair, she insisted she could do it all herself, and every time, she requested Georgie’s help somewhere between halfway and three-quarters of the way done.

As a surgeon, she typically wasn’t allowed to have her nails painted. However, since she was off for a couple of weeks taking some much-needed and well-deserved PTO, she decided to treat herself, opting for some black acrylics. electing to keep them short as long nails could make date night plans more difficult.

She also recruited Georgie’s help in picking an outfit, the pile of different dresses, skirts, and more on her bed becoming too much to sort through on her own. Walking back into the living room, she simply grabbed Georgie’s hand without saying a word, taking her back into her room for her to get an eyeful of the mountain of clothes occupying her place of rest, and Georgie knew just what that meant. Vec hated to pull Georgie from her work, but she also knew if she didn’t, one, she would never hear the end of it, and two, she would never be able to garner up the courage to leave the house.

“You didn’t already have your outfit picked out?” Georgie teased, grabbing different tops off of hangers and adding them to the pile, “what, are you gonna go in your scrubs?”

Vec chuckled, the sweet sound of amusement rising from the depths of her chest sounding like music to Georgie’s ears. “I mean, he has already seen me in them, and he still seemed to be into—“ she paused and used her hands to gesture up and down her body “—all of this.”

The pair eventually settled on something simple, pairing a long-sleeved black sweater with a black skirt and a pair of fishnets. Taking extra precaution, she slipped a pair of shorts on under her skirt, the shorts long enough to just cover the tattoos on the back on her thighs.

Grabbing her favorite fragrance off her dresser, she gave her neck, décolletage, and wrists a few spritzes, rubbing her wrists together to ensure the scent settled. The little bottle of vanilla-scented spray was a gift from her mom for her high-school graduation, and it had been dubbed her “lucky perfume” after many an instance of it coming clutch. She only wore it for the most special of occasions—her white coat ceremony, Match Day, her birthday—and this, a first date with a man she was already falling head over heels for, was a very, very special occasion.

Taking one last deep breath and draping her hair over her shoulders, she gave herself one final look-over in her mirror and flattened her sweater. She did one small twirl, watching her skirt flow around her thighs and her curls bounce as they settled back into place.

Making her way back into the living room, she stood in front of her best friend, who’d been spending her evening grading papers when she wasn’t helping her prepare for her date. She anxiously cracked her fingers before repeatedly wiggling them in some pathetic attempt to rid herself of all the nervous energy cooped up inside her body. “What do you think?”

Looking up from her work, a massive smile spread across Georgie’s face as she took in the sight of her bestie before her, all dolled up and dressed to impress. “You look hot.” Giving her a slow up-down with her eyes, something caught her attention. “You’re not wearing the push-up this time?”

Vec was a smaller gal, some curves but nothing crazy, and her chest was by far her biggest insecurity. She always wore the only push-up bra she owned on dates, attempting to boost her confidence by making her small chest not look so small. This time was different. “No. I’m, uh, going for…authenticity this time.”

“Wow. You must really like this one,” Georgie commented, setting her red pen down on the table and rising to her feet. She could only think of one other occasion where her Dia hadn’t worn that illustrious push-up, and that was back in undergrad.

“Yeah,” Vec replied in a sickly, tooth-rotting tone, her cheeks becoming flushed under her full-coverage face. She twirled away from Georgie long enough to slip on and zip up her combat boots.

“Well, he’s a lucky man, getting to take you out.”

Pacing the living room of their shared apartment, she kept her eyes glued to the floor as she began gently scratching at the side of her left thumb with her index finger, the primary telltale sign of her anxiety. “Gin, I feel like I wanna throw up and die.”

“Throw up, sure, yeah. That makes sense. And I’ll certainly hold your hair back if you do,” Georgie assured, crossing over from the couch and standing off to the side of Vec as she continued to pace. She followed her with her eyes back and forth from the entryway to the TV stand and back again. “But die? That feels a bit overdramatic, even for you, Dia.”

“Not helping.” Her tone was unintentionally stern, and she was immediately kicking herself. “I didn’t mean to snap, I’m just so worked up, and not in the fun way.”

Georgie couldn’t help but snicker in response. Even when she was “worked up, and not in the fun way,” her best friend was still cracking jokes and being her overdramatic, unhinged self. “Just try to take a deep breath, okay? Think of this as a day out with one of your friends, just a casual get-together. Less pressure that way.”

“Right…just a hangout…” Vec whispered between deep breaths, “…until one of us is flirting every two fucking seconds.”

“And if anything goes wrong on this ‘hangout’, I’m only a phone call away, remember? I’ll drop everything and come to you if I need to.”

“I know. I’m just super worked up right now. I mean, what if he thinks I’m too bold?”

She snickered again, this time a little louder and with a hint of surprise in her tone. Never had Vec been concerned about being “too bold,” especially for a man. For her to be worrying about something like that meant this ‘cutie with the bandana’ must’ve been special. “It sounds like you were pretty bold back at the auto shop, and he seemed into it. I think if he thought you were “too bold” then you wouldn’t be here now,” Georgie assured, “and if he does decide you’re “too bold,” then it’s his loss.”

Slowing down before coming to a stop, Vec finally ceased her pacing, turning to Georgie as she adjusted her glasses on her nose. “You’re right. I’ve already been pretty bold. I’m just stuck in my own head.”

“Well, let’s get you out of there then.” Georgie stepped closer to her and began brushing hair out of her eyes, adjusting her curls, and looking her outfit over to ensure there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. “Tell me what the plan is again.”

“Umm, I’m meeting him at the bowling alley, and I’m not sure after that,” Vec explained, resting the urge to bite at her bottom lip as to not get lipstick on her teeth, “we might go get food or something, I don’t know. I feel too sick to eat right now.”

“Babe, can you take a deep breath for me?” Georgie asked. Vec nodded, and she forced herself to take a deep, calming breath in through her nose and out through her mouth. Georgie placed her hands on her shoulders before meeting her gaze. “You’re going to be fine. I’m sure once you get there, all of your nerves will just melt away. You’re Lydia Rae Vector, the best way this man could be spending his Friday night.”

Vec would’ve been lying if she said the mini pep-talk from her Ginny didn’t do a number in terms of boosting her ego. “Well, I don’t know about the best way, but definitely a good one.” She took her phone out long enough to look at the time before sliding it back into her bag. “I should get going. I’m supposed to be there in twenty minutes. And you know me, gotta get there early.”

“Don’t forget to—“

“I know, I know. Text you every time I change locations and call with the code phrase if things get sketchy.” Every time one of them was headed out on a date or a hookup, they always reminded the other of their golden rule, as if they hadn’t been doing it their entire friendship.

As she headed out the front door, Georgie called out to her one last time. “Stay safe, have fun, and use protection! Not necessarily in that order, but you know what I mean.”

Vec rolled her eyes and scoffed as she poked her head back in the doorframe just long enough to respond. “Thanks, Gin.”

The bowling alley was only about a 5 minute drive from her place, but given the Friday night Atlanta traffic, it took her almost the whole 20 minute window to get there. After speed-walking through the ever-growing-dark parking lot, she leaned against the first counter she came across, which happened to be empty. She sent a quick text to let him know she was there and where in the building to find her. She also send a message to Georgie, letting her know she’d made it safely.

Vec: Made it. Just waiting for him.

Vec: I still wanna throw up and ✨die✨

Ginny 🌻: You’re gonna be fine. And if you don’t feel fine, I’ll be there before you know it 💛

The next message that made its way through to her was from none other than her date, and given that it was their agreed meet-up time, she figured he had to be close.

Josh ☺️: What are you wearing?

Josh: ☺️: Y’know, so I can spot you 😉

Vec: You’ll see 😉

A few minutes later, she was greeted from behind by a pair of hands over her eyes, hovering just over her glasses. In a normal situation, she would’ve whipped around before the person had a chance to say a word and clocked them in the nose. This situation was out of the ordinary in the best way.

“Guess who?” the familiar voice behind her greeted, chuckling softly.

“Gee, I wonder.” Her tone was sarcastic, amused, and flirty all at the same time, a combination that sent the mechanic’s heart plummeting into his stomach and joining the butterflies already making a home there.

“I’d offer a hint, but that would give it away,” he teased. He hoped that, even though he didn’t give the hint, she’d still catch on to what it was going to be. And catch on she did.

The fucking bandana, she thought. She didn’t say anything, but the giggly scoff that met his ears told him everything he needed to know.

Finally removing his hands from her eyes, he tapped on her shoulder to get her to spin around. Her curls bounced on her shoulders as she turned, her skirt flowing around her thighs catching his attention. At the mere sight of her, his stomach was doing backflips, and when their eyes locked, he knew he was in for one of the best nights of his life.

“Hi!” she greeted. The tone of her voice had changed to one of sheer delight, and there was almost a sparkle to it. She roped him in for a hug, her arms sliding around his neck and his instinctively traveling to her waist. He was elated about her desire for physical contact. It was a short hug, but it was just long enough for him to get a whiff of the sweet vanilla perfume on her neck.

“Damn,” she laughed, bringing her head back up and gently brushing a few stray hairs from his eyes, “no bandana this time, huh?”

He kept his hands on her waist as she worked, moving strands from one side to the other of the natural parting on his scalp. It wasn’t intentional the way his hands stayed planted there and subconsciously pulled her closer. He was simply too enraptured with the sight before him to do anything about it. “Figured I’d let the hair down for a change. But look at you. You clean up good, doc.”

“Clean up good” was an understatement, he thought. She looked beautiful, damn near ethereal, the shimmer on her cheekbone catching the fluorescent light above them. Even curled, her long hair still reached down past her chest, and the shade of dark purple lipstick she’d picked out made her cerulean eyes pop. It took everything in him to not plant one on her right then and there.

After fixing his flyaways to her satisfaction, she folded her arms over her chest and took a moment to admire him. His jeans looked damn near brand new, if she had to guess, and hit button-up was open just enough to expose his collarbone. He was wearing the same choker she’d seen on him back at the auto shop, the same choker she fantasized about curling her finger around and pulling him in for a kiss by. He was a work of art as far as she was concerned. “So do you, mechanic man,” she replied. She was well aware of his hands still on her waist and too wrapped up in the moment to care. They could’ve stayed just like that, talking all night, and she would be happy.

“You smell nice.”

“Thank you. It’s my, uh, lucky perfume.”

“What makes it so lucky?” he inquired, the usage of the L word piquing his interest.

“I only wear it for…special occasions.” She was already starting to blush under all her makeup, but thankfully, her full-coverage foundation kept the blood rushing to her cheeks a secret from her date. “And usually, said occasions work out in my favor.”

“Honored to know I’m such a ‘special occasion.’” It was in that moment, when her gaze dropped to the floor for just a second and he was pulled from his trance, that he became overwhelmingly aware of his hands on her waist that had been very slowly creeping towards her hips.

“Shit, sorry.” He didn’t pull away abruptly, but rather let his hands naturally pull away, and now, it was his turn to get a little pink. “Guess I got distracted.”

Her mind echoed Georgie’s words from earlier in the evening. Think of this as a day out with one of your friends, just a casual get-together. Yeah, that’s certainly going well so far, she thought, a smile breaking out on her face from her thoughts and the compliment from him.

“You don’t need to apologize. Does it look like I was bothered at all?” she laughed, “believe me, if I’m bothered by something, you’ll know.”

Her laugh in response provided him some relief and gave him the confidence to take her hand, running his fingers over hers and looking at his reflection in the glossy black acrylics that adorned her nails. “These look cool. Bet you don’t get to do this too often, given your job.”

“Uh, no…no, I don’t, really.” She had to fight to keep herself from sliding her fingers in between his, resisting the pull she was feeling to lock their hands together.

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve painted mine to match,” he smirked. Now, it was her turn to have the butterflies in her stomach working overtime.

Had he painted his nails before? Yes, on more than one occasion. Did he currently own a bottle of black nail polish for himself? Not at all. If she indeed had let him know what she was doing, would he have went out and bought one just to match her? Absolutely.

“I love a man who breaks gender norms,” she gushed. Her fingers trailed up to the base of his-rolled up sleeve, goosebumps forming on his skin as she worked upwards. She tugged on it gently, and her lashes fluttered as she brought her gaze from his bicep back to his eyes. “I like this shirt, by the way. It looks great on you.”

“This old thing? I don’t really pull this one out much. Glad you like it.”

“You should pull it out more often.”

That sentence in another context would go crazy, she thought, doing her best to stifle the laugh trying to creep its way out of her chest. But she was a woman who wore her thoughts all over her face, and the smile she was fighting to make smaller told him that her mind had taken the statement in a more nefarious direction.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her attempt to keep hers contained, an amused smirk crossing his lips as he did. “C’mon, I already got us set up. Just gotta get shoes.”

As she turned to round the corner, his hand trailed to her upper back, taking the end of some of her curls between his fingers, though he was careful not to dishevel them. “Guess I didn’t realize how much hair you really got. It’s still so long. How you get it all to fit in that cap you gotta wear?”

“A very tight braid and lots of practice,” she explained. His hand moved under her curls to rest on her back, migrating down to her waist. They’d only been in each other’s presence for maybe five minutes. Already, he was hardly able to keep his hands off her, and Vec was eating that shit up.

“What made you wanna grow it out?” he inquired as they approached the shoe counter.

“I like to go to renaissance festivals and dress up for them. The long hair makes for some cool styles.” An idea struck her, and she was already reaching for her bag before she could get her next sentence out. “I have some pictures. If you wanna see, I mean.”

“Hell yeah, of course I do.”

Opening to her photos, she selected the album titled ‘ren fest(ivies)’ and clicked on the first picture. “My best friend likes to sew, so she helps me make them.” She handed her phone over to him before turning to the shoe counter, their fingers lightly grazing each other as they did. Just like that fateful day back at the auto shop, the sparks that generated between them could’ve lit the entire city of Atlanta. “You can just scroll through to the end.”

As he scrolled through, he got to feast his eyes on different pictures of her posed in medieval skirts and corsets with weapons that would make any fantasy nerd proud. Like she’d said, the long hair did in fact make for some sick hairstyles, and as he continued, he found himself having to swallow a couple of times to keep himself from drooling. He could vaguely hear her comment her shoe size to the man behind the counter. Eight, maybe? He couldn’t be sure. All of his senses were focused on the pictures of the goddess in front of him.

“Wow.” It came out more matter-of-fact than he anticipated. He was enamored, and it was more than evident based on his boyish grin and the way his eyes closed ever so slightly, like he was high. “You look…” his voice momentarily trailed off before he found it again “…beautiful, badass, all of it. Your confidence is top-notch.”

She looked up from the spot she’d taken on a nearby chair as she finished tying the laces of her bowling shoes. The way he called her ‘beautiful’ had her stomach doing backflips. “Thank you. I’m already planning my outfit for the next one.”

After he put on his shoes, they headed off to their lane. His hand found her waist again as they walked, and he kept it there, like he was guiding her through a large crowd despite not a single person being in their way. She didn’t mind one bit. In fact, quite the opposite. She’d began making mental notes about what she could do to further encourage the behavior.

“I put our names in already,” he said, nodding in the general direction of the small kiosk at their lane. Peering over the frame of her glasses, she chuckled as she scanned over their names on the screen above them. Hers read ‘Vee,’ but that wasn’t the funny part.

“‘Scudster’? Really?” she laughed, that sweet giggle trailing off her tongue to meet his ears again. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard him refer to himself as that, but it was still entertaining nonetheless. “You’re so unserious, you know that?”

“I like to think my “unserious” vibes are part of the charm.” As the pins came down at the end of the lane, he took a bowling ball in his hand, gently spinning it around as to not drop it. This time, it was his turn to be struck by a positively brilliant idea. “Hey Vee, what do you say we turn this into…a little friendly competition?”

The doctor cocked an eyebrow at him, her curiosity quickly piquing, which was evident by the look in her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s say…if I win, I get a kiss.” Immediately fearing he’d been too forward, he waited with bated breath for her to respond or do anything that would indicate she was comfortable with the situation. When her contagious smile appeared again, her pearly whites on full display, his shoulders relaxed, and that little Machiavellian smirk of his crept onto his face.

“Aah, I see.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she racked her brain for what she could say in return. What did she want from him? Just about anything. What did she want to know about him? Everything. “Then if I win…you gotta tell me your deepest, darkest secret. And it better be a good one.”

“Lucky for me, I’m good at bowling.” Judging by his tone and resting smirk, he was feeling rather confident. “Prepare to get shredded.”

He’d put her name in first, so he kindly grabbed one of the balls and held it out to her. “Ladies first,” Scud said, giving her a friendly smile.

Vec wasn’t a complete rookie when it came to bowling. She’d been before, although it had been a while, and given the little skills she had back then, she was certain they’d since faded away. She was almost positive she was going to get “shredded,” but she didn’t dare let it show, lest he already start to think he had the upper hand.

Taking the blue bowling ball in her hands, she stepped up to the lane, rolling it back and forth in her hands and staring down the pins at the end. It’s my favorite color, she thought, that has to mean something, right?

“So how did you get into dressing up for ren fests?” His question rang in her ears as she took her first shot, his voice catching her by surprise and making her stumble. She missed her center shot, the balling rolling off to the side and into the gutter, not hitting a single pin as it traveled into the darkness at the end of the lane.

“Wow,” he teased as he approached her, “should we have put the guards up?”

“That’s not fair,” she jokingly whined, her smirk turning into a playful pout, “you distracted me.”

“Fear not m’lady, you got one more shot,” he assured, stepping away only long enough to bring the bowling ball back to her.

“So to answer your question, I’m big into fantasy shit.” She lined herself up again, taking a deep breath to help her focus. “You know Disney movies at all?”

This time, he waited until after she took her turn to respond. While the ball didn’t roll into the gutter this time, it was no strike, just barely knocking a couple of the pins over on one side. “Sure do. My favorite’s The Fox and the Hound.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Scud looked over his shoulder long enough to give her a cheeky grin before lining up his first shot. Though he was determined to win their little friendly competition, he was far more interested in listening to what she had to say. “My favorite growing up was Sleeping Beauty. It was my ‘gateway drug’ into the world of fantasy. Got me into the Lord of the Rings, going to ren fests, and eventually dressing up for them.”

He rolled nearly dead center, knocking every pin over with a single strike. He turned back to her, that same cheeky grin on his face. “Oh you’re just showing off now,” she groaned, that playful joking pout making a second appearance for him. And oh, how he was loving it.

As he’d told her during their initial meeting, he’d been on the market for a while. He needed someone that could joke around with him, be able to laugh at themselves, was unapologetically authentic and genuine to their core. So far, she was checking all of those boxes and then some.

“Told you I was good.” Stepping back to her, Scud brushed some stray hairs out of her eyes, tucking them over the side of her glasses. There was hardly any, not enough to have bothered her at all, but it was enough for him to do something about it. He was looking for damn near any excuse to touch her in any capacity. And the little smile that crept up every time he did? He’d do anything to see that.

“Anyway,” she commented in an attempt to bring the conversation back, “I used to watch it so much that I’d constantly be singing the song from it around the house when I was little. My brothers used to make fun of me for it. All in good fun, of course, but they’ll still sometimes bring it up just to get under my skin. Y’know, the way siblings do.”

“You close with ‘em?” He was already lining up for his second shot of that turn, her standing over his shoulder, but far enough back to not get hit by his arm when he swung.

“Oh yeah. I have a few, we’re all really close. They’re all older. Joined the military right out of high school. Became Navy SEALs. They’re some of my best friends.”

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone—hell, he was hardly able to admit it to himself—but the mention of multiple military big-brothers did put him a bit on edge. In his mind, all it would take was one wrong move for them to come knocking on his door. He didn’t know much about the different branches of the military, but one thing he did know is that Navy SEALs were not to be fucked with.

“Don’t got any myself.” He took his second shot, once again landing another strike. Vec was beginning to wonder if he’d chosen bowling for a first date on purpose as a way to show off a little. “Had a lot of cousins growin’ up. Having kids my own age around was nice. That’s dope that you’re so close with yours.”

“I definitely got lucky. I certainly never taken them for granted.”

They continued chatting as they took turns, Scud occasionally doing a tiny fist pump when he made a strike. It wasn’t perfect, he didn’t land every single one, but it was damn near close, and Vec knew she had no chance. Still, she did her best to maintain her confidence and give the illusion that she believed she could actually win.

Every chance he got, he was grabbing her bowling ball for her, ensuring their fingers touched each time he handed it over. Even though she wasn’t nearly as skilled as he was, he hyped her up any time she knocked over even one pin. He was a jokester, and their playful, teasing banter had the butterflies in his stomach working overtime, but he also wanted her to have fun and feel good about her abilities.

“Now the big-ticket question I’ve been wanting to ask—what made you wanna become a doctor?”

“It’s kind of a silly story,” she sighed as he returned the bowling ball to her. She’d become accustomed to receiving rather snide comments when answering that question, and her evening was going too well to have it ruined over her response to a classic first-date question.

He picked up on her hesitation, the regret settling in as he worried he possibly struck a nerve or unintentionally brought up a touchy subject. He hoped a sprinkle of humor would provide some encouragement. “This is the Scudster you’re dealin’ with. Silly is my middle name.”

‘Scudster’ made her giggle and eased her nerves, so she decided she’d tell her story, hoping to whatever might be out there that he wouldn’t think it was stupid. “When I was three, one of my brothers got into an accident, landed himself in the hospital. One of the surgeons was this beautiful woman with long auburn hair, and she was wearing a floral dress and a white coat. Me, being three, saw any woman with long hair and a pretty dress and thought she was a princess, as most little girls do.”

“So I asked her. Toddled right up to her as she was talking to my mom and asked her if she was a princess. And she crouched down to my level with the biggest, brightest smile on her face and said “of course I am!” Then I turned to my mom and said “Mommy, I wanna be a princess when I grow up!” Princess, in that moment, meaning someone who wears pretty dresses and a white coat and saves lives like the way the pretty lady in front of me was saving my brother’s. Of course, as I got older, I learned what a doctor was, but I never wavered from that decision. Not even once.”

She waited with bated breath for him to say something, anything. The first thing he did was laugh, but not in a mocking way or a ‘wow, that’s stupid’ kind of way. It was the laugh of someone who’d just heard a baby giggle or watched a puppy chase their own tail. “That’s probably the most adorable thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

“You sure it’s not silly, not even a little bit? Most people think it is.” He gave her an empathetic sigh as his hand found her shoulder, and he subconsciously drew small circles with his fingers, hoping it would offer some solace. How could anyone find such a wholesome and precious story silly or stupid?

“You’re a smart woman, Vee. I’m sure you’ve gathered that I’m not “most people.” It’s super cute. I may be “unserious,” but I’m no liar.”

“Well thank you,” she replied, batting her lashes as she briefly dropped her gaze to the floor. They reveled in that pocket of time for a few moments, his hand still drawing small circles on her shoulder, and she brought her baby blues back to meet his. Blue was her favorite color, and the specific shade of his irises was quickly becoming her favorite one. “What about you, bandana boy? What got you into being an auto mechanic?”

“I used to work as an inventor. That’s just more of a hobby now.” He stepped away long enough to take the red bowling ball he’d been using for his next turn. “My dad taught me stuff about cars when I was younger, so that and the inventor skills carried over nicely into being a mechanic.”

Vec’s ears perked up at the mention of the word ‘inventor.’ Given how fascinating he already was, she didn’t think it was possible, but he’d just gotten a lot more interesting. “An inventor, huh? That’s so cool! What kind of stuff do you make?”

He took his turn before responding to her inquiry. “Used to make weapons for this guy. One might say he was kind of a sketchy character, but he was a nice guy. Never gave me any trouble unless he was up my ass about not getting something done fast enough.”

“You’re cute, funny, and you have cool hobbies? It’s like I won the jackpot or something.” She blinked a few times and shook her head gently, like she was shaking herself from a trance, before stifling a breathy chuckle and locking eyes with him. “I’m doing the thing again, aren’t I?”

She’d been bold from the moment they met—hell, even before that, given the initial bandana comment she’d made about him to his boss—but he found it cute that there were moments that she thought she was being ‘too much.’ He’d never once thought she was too much. There weren’t any words in the English language that captured how much he loved how forward, brazen, and shameless she was.

“Told you I liked how bold you are,” he assured, giving her a delicate pat on the small of her back, “I’ll be right back. Gotta hit up the little boy’s room. Try not to have too much fun without me.”

As he sauntered off, she took the opportunity to check in with her best friend. Leaning back against the kiosk, she took her phone from her bag and saw that she had a new message from Georgie.

Ginny 🌻: How’s it going? ☺️ Are you having fun? 💛

Vec: I don’t think it could be going any more perfectly. I can’t wait to tell you about it 💙

Vec: He’s kicking my ass though

Ginny 🌻: Can’t have that, now can we?

Vec: Well, it wouldn’t be so bad if he won ☺️

Ginny 🌻: Oh???

Vec: Maybe he’ll get a little 💋

Ginny 🌻: OH 👀

Chuckling softly to herself, she slipped her phone back into her bag, returning it to its home on the kiosk. She tapped her foot on the floor, taking a deep breath and focusing on the clicking of the bowling shoe on the wood. It was a small attempt, but she hoped it would be enough to rid herself of the anxious energy creeping through every inch of her body. When he was around, it was like all of nerves channeled themselves into her flirting, but the moment she was alone with her thoughts, she was spiraling.

“Didn’t have too much fun without me, did you?” His voice startled her, but not enough to make her jump.

“Of course not,” she replied, giving him a gentle nudge to the shoulder with hers, her voice laced with sarcasm. He scanned his baby blues over her face, stopping briefly on her lips before meeting hers again, and for a moment, she thought he might plant one on her.

He wanted to, though. He badly wanted to. But his own nerves, and the thought in the back of his mind of her military brothers kicking his ass if he made a wrong move, were getting in his way.

“The glitter looks cool,” he complimented, haphazardly gesturing to his own cheek.

Despite the gesturing, she cocked an eyebrow, confused. “What glitter?”

“Tilt your head up,” he instructed, but before she could do it on her own accord, he had his fingers under her chin, gently tipping her head back and adjusting the position until her cheekbone caught the light, “to the side, a little more, there you go.” He tapped gently on her cheekbone, careful not to ruin or smudge her hard work. “Right there.”

Vec was clenching her teeth to keep herself grounded in reality. If she didn’t, she was certain she would fold on the spot. Every time he touched her, she was ready to melt like putty in his hands, and she just hoped he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks from her blushing.

“Oh, that’s highlighter,” she explained, “it’s a shimmery powder you put on areas you want to…well, highlight, make stand out.” She shook her head softly to allow the highlight on her nose to catch the light. “Got it here too.”

Everything she said, he looked at her like it was the most damn interesting thing in the world, regardless of how ‘unimportant’ it seemed. Even something as simple as the shimmer on her cheekbones intrigued him, and it certainly didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“You’re gonna have to show to me how you do that. It looks great.”

“I’m not a professional by any means, but thank you.” She tore her eyes from his long enough to look up at the screen and see that it was their last turn for this round.

“I’d love to be able to make a strike, even just once,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I could help. Get you set up perfectly and all that,” he offered. He didn’t even bother trying to hold back how eager he was. “If you want, that is.”

“Yeah.” Her smile softened as she met his gaze again. “I’d like that.” The look in her eyes and the way she said “I’d like that” had his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage.

He grabbed the infamous blue bowling ball and met her at the lane, standing behind her after handing it over. “So you gotta line it up just right.” His hands found her hips, keeping his touch light as he coaxed her to shift to the center. “This good?”

“It’s great,” she replied, her voice cracking as she fought to control her anxiety. She’d hoped that the nosies of other families surrounding them would mask the crack in her voice, but his breath tickling her ear as he chuckled told her otherwise. Despite her boldness, Scud had noticed her getting flustered all evening, and to him, it was nothing short of adorable.

“You wanna aim just off of dead center to account for it curving.” Now, it was her turn to have her heart hammering against the inside of her ribcage as he adjusted her arms and straightened her shoulders, all while keeping his spot right behind her.

Taking a deep breath to calm down—both from the mounting pressure she was placing on herself to make a strike and having a handsome man who couldn’t keep his hands off her mere inches from her back—she followed his directions to a T, rolling just off of dead center and allowing the ball to curve as it traveled down the lane.

Boom. Strike.

“Oh my God, I did it!” Vec cried, twirling in circles a few times before launching into Scud’s arms. She threw her arms around his neck, practically squealing with delight, the excitement coursing through her body rapidly bubbling over. His chuckling in her ear was one of the sweetest sounds she’d ever heard. However, when his arms snaked around her waist, it occurred to her she might’ve gotten a little carried away. “Shit, sorry, I got excited.” She went to pull away, but he kept her in place, wrapping his arms around her further until her chest was flush with his. He wanted to stay in that little pocket of time forever.

“Don’t apologize.” He was reveling in the moment, and the last thing he wanted was for her to be feeling sorry for it. “You crushed it, Buttercup.”

She picked her head up to look at him, her curls tickling his cheek. Despite only a subtle cock of her eyebrows, the confusion on her face was obvious. “What did you call me?”

“Buttercup. Like the Powerpuff girl. Seems fitting for you.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

“You should, ‘cause it was certainly meant to be one. She’s always been my favorite.” She looked beautiful with her face done, but he loved seeing her blush with every compliment he gave. He could only hope she was turning red under her makeup. And she certainly was.

“Hair got all messy,” he teased, looking over the strands that had fallen in her face and flipped around her part, “guess it’s my turn to fix yours.”

He did the same as she had before, taking different chunks and moving them back to their place so her part was nice and straight again. It didn’t take long, but during those few seconds, her knees went weak, and if she hadn’t been so focused on holding herself up with her arms around his neck, she would’ve collapsed. He thought about putting his hands in her hair to fluff it before calling it quits, but he opted against it, the thought of her military big-brothers creeping back to the front of his mind. They were going to be the death of him.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a round to win.” His mischievous joke elicited an eye roll and a giggly scoff from her.

The moment he made his final strike, he did one last fist pump, turning back to her and playfully sticking his tongue like a child. “Told you you were gonna get shredded.”

She was blushing so hard this time, she was positive her cheeks were glowing & the heat radiating off her face would melt her foundation right off. She loved piercings, tattoos, any sort of body modification. Upon seeing his, her mind immediately went in the most nefarious direction imaginable.

“Whoa, you have a tongue piercing? That had to have hurt like a bitch,” she exclaimed, doing her best to mask how flustered she was despite the crack in her voice and the double take she did.

“It did, but it looks dope, so it was worth it. You like it?” She more than just liked it.

She’s definitely thinking what I think she is, he thought as a little smirk broke through, but he didn’t mind at all. He was flattered that her mind was going in that direction, and he would’ve been lying if he said his wasn’t doing the same.

“Yeah, it’s awesome. I love piercings. I’ve only got my ears done, but I don’t even get to wear earrings often because of my job. Can’t have a stud falling into somebody’s intestines or something.” She pretended to clear her throat to prevent her voice from breaking further. “Anyway, that was only round one. We’ve got two more. I still have a chance to beat you.”

Those next two rounds were much the same, consisting of them chatting and getting to know each other throughout their turns with plenty of flirtatious touching to accompany it. Despite some assistance from him, he crushed her in every single round. As it was a Friday night, it was rather noisy and busy in the bowling alley, but it was like they were the only two people in the room. They were in their own little bubble, as far as they were concerned, a bubble they could’ve stayed in eternally if they were allowed to.

“I’m a doctor, not an athlete.” she joked, balancing herself on the counter to finish putting her boots back on.

“You still did good,” he commended. When she finished with her boots, he propped his arm in her direction, indicating to her to take it if she wanted. “Guess we’ll just have to come back so I can teach you.”

Gracing him with her soft smile, she took his arm, delighted with the clear enthusiasm he had about what some might call ‘showing her off.’ It had been a long time since she’d been on a date with a man so comfortable with PDA, especially on a first date. It was refreshing, and it had her swooning big time. Scud wasn’t like any man she’d met before, and that was precisely the type of man she needed. “I guess we will.”

She clung to his arm as they stepped out into the parking lot. It was dark now, the automatic lamps in the lot having flipped on and the streets flooding with people heading out for their Friday night, end-of-the-work-week antics. She used her free hand to brush her hair out of her face, and she could feel his gorgeous ocean eyes on her, studying every microscopic move she made. Even the mundane act of her brushing some hair out of her eyes brought a smile to his face. He was falling hard, fast, and he knew it and had no problems with it.

“I don’t know about you Vee, but I’m not ready for this night to be over. You hungry at all?”

“I ate a little before I came, so I’m not ravenous, but I’m not ready to be done either.”

“There’s a nice bar up the street. What do you say I buy you a drink? I’d love to keep talking.” There was a teeny tiny sparkle in his eye at the declaration of wanting to continue their evening over drinks, and Vec couldn’t help but let her small smile warp into one that stretched from ear-to-ear.

“I’d like that.” She slipped her arm out from his, and she could’ve sworn the sparkle in his eye faded to sadness for a brief moment as she pulled away and reached for her bag, taking out her phone. “I just have to text my best friend first. It’s nothing personal, I promise. Part of girl code is keeping each other informed of our locations on dates.”

Vec: We’re walking to this nearby bar. I think it’s called Whistler’s? He didn’t say, but it’s the only one I can think of up the street.

“Nah, you got someone lookin’ out for you. That’s good,” he commented. Based on the inflection in his voice, he’d clearly taken no offense, but even if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered to her. She was simply doing what she needed to keep herself safe.

She slipped her phone back into her bag and adjusted it on her arm. Looking past his shoulder down the street, she nodded in the general direction. “You thinking we walk?”

“I was hopin’ we would.” Grazing his fingers against the back of her hand, he kept his touch light as he trailed them around and slipped them between hers. Vec had never been more thankful for the dark, and for full-coverage foundation, than she was in that moment. As she locked eyes with him, her small smile contorted into a giant grin, her delight turning his smirk into a smile. “It’s dark. Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

Vec belongs to me

Georgie belongs to @dixons-sunshine

QOTU taglist: @ripleyswife @gothic-pumpkin @weirdoneattheparty @holdmytesseract

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie

Want to become a head of the council? Hit up either myself or Krys to be added to the taglist :)

Banner, divider, and © below were also made by Krys

[tragedybunny]

I really enjoyed your Consensual Non-Consent fic. I really want to read something like that written by you!

Well, this isn't CNC, but it is in the realm of kink! Thanks to @bhaalbaaby for the beta! To my tag list, totally cool if this isn't your thing, no pressure.

༺Sweet Relief - Astarion x F!Reader ༻

༺Summary༻ Reader is stressed and nervous. Astarion knows just what they need to relieve it.

༺Warnings༻ Spanking/Impact Play, D/s dynamics, PiV sex

༺Word Count༻ 1523

The common room at the Elfsong was empty, a rarity. The rest of your group was downstairs, celebrating your latest victory over Orin by letting off some steam. A well deserve respite after all that had happened since you’d arrived in Baldur’s Gate. You couldn’t match their excitement, looking ahead to the last hurdle to overcome before confronting the Absolute for good: Enver Gortash and his Steel Watch. Thinking of it coiled your muscles into tense springs and turned breathing from instinct to labor. 

You excused yourself from the impromptu festivities and headed back upstairs, Astarion following you without having been asked, a sweet gesture on his part. You didn’t want to ruin his evening as well. He was right at your heels, shutting the door behind the two of you. Arm wrap around you, pulling your back to his chest. “Everything alright, love?” He purrs against your ear. 

The feel of his words playing across your skin made you shiver and squirm, and you nodded in answer. “Just…anxious, I suppose,” you add. 

“Well, I know a way to take care of that.” You could hear the suggestive grin that was no doubt plastered on his face. 

“Astarion,” You started to protest, but he guided you across the room to the set of beds the two of you share, tucked in a corner, a makeshift private space, arms still firmly around your waist. “I don’t know if this is really a great solution.” Since you had ended Cazador, Astarion had been increasingly amorous with you. 

“I think it’s the perfect one. Pull your pants down.” The words were firm without being sharp, but they were unmistakably an order. Another development of his newfound erotic interest: control. 

“But what if the others come back,” You protested, legs already pinned against the edge of the mattress and Astarion. 

“That sounds like backtalk, my pet,” His lips caressed your ear, teasing the point of it. As a half-elf, it’s not nearly as sensitive as his, but it still provoked a soft moan. Searing kisses burned their way down your throat, his hands remained locked on your waist, waiting for you to obey. 

Heat burned underneath your skin from arousal and the potential embarrassment of being discovered. “They could see,” You whispered meekly, heat flowing from your skin to your core. 

“Definitely backtalk,” He affirmed, “what am I going to do with you?” His hand abandoned your waist, digging in the drawer. You swallowed hard when a black strip of leather struck the mattress in front of you. 

The belt had come from a crate of goods Figaro Facemaker had sent as a thank you. Astarion immediately grabbed it, giving you a look that had left your small clothes damp. You noted he hadn't worn it once, making his intended use of it extremely clear. “Pants down, and if you have any further protests, I have a scroll of silence I’ve been dying to use on you.” You trembled but in a way that felt divine as your will submitted to his. 

Backing off, he gave you space, and you hurried to comply this time, fumbling with your laces and letting the pants fall to the ground. Taking you by the shoulders, Astarion bent you over, face pressed into the mattress. It’s almost shamefully lewd, the only thing bared to him were holes, bent over and waiting to be fucked. He hummed appreciatively, nails skimming over the curve of your ass. “There’s a good girl,” Your thighs were becoming slick at this point. “But I can’t overlook how long it took you to comply with one simple request. I think you need a little lesson, wouldn’t you agree, darling?” Languidly he retrieved the belt from the bed, letting you get a good look at it. 

Behind you, he fiddled with the buckle, making a purposeful amount of noise for you to hear. This was a new dimension to the escalating play between you. You swallowed thickly. “Yes, love.” 

His body covered yours, pressing down on you, how much he was enjoying this was readily evident. He rutted his hips against yours, erection straining through the fabric, teasing your soaked folds, making sure you knew how much he wanted this, and you whimpered. “Very wise of you,” His voice tickled your ear. 

Then his weight disappeared, and you're left with the emptiness of anticipation. 

The sting of leather was utterly different from the barehanded smacks you received in the past, sharp, concentrated. You hissed, and the first tears gathered in your eyes, but your mind floated away. A gentle hand stroked your hair. “Bearable, pet?”

You struggled back to reality for a moment. “Mhmm.”

“Words, sweetheart,” He insisted, and you knew if you didn’t answer, the game would come to an end. 

“Sunrise.” You managed, and the grip on your hair tightened as the next strike came, a singing line of pain on your skin. 

Face buried in the mattress, you yelped, no longer concerned with what your companions would think if they stumbled in right now. The struggles and fears faded away, and your body relaxed into a pliant plaything. There’s nothing but Astarion, the pain, the ecstasy, and the promise of release. 

You don’t count the strikes, instead reveling in every one as a single heady moment. They left behind little echoes of burning skin, marks that would remind you later when you try to sit. You must be making noise, but you’re not sure, the mattress under your face moistened with tears. The emptiness between your legs was painful, yearning to be filled by the one you’ve given control of yourself to. 

Then there was stillness. “You did so well,” Astarion praised, and your heart fluttered. “You’ll listen to me the next time I tell you to let me take care of you, right?”

“I will,” You promised, not daring to try to look at him. 

Fingers caressed the welts along your ass reverently before dipping down to your aching slit. A single digit slid inside you, and you rocked back, instinctively craving friction. “You’re all worked up, you poor little thing. Let’s get you some relief.” 

You whined at the loss when he removed his finger and he gently scolded you. “Be patient. You don’t want another lesson tonight.” 

Silently suffering, you waited as you heard him open his pants. Finally, you felt the tip of his cock teasing your hole. “Please,” you begged. 

He answered with a thrust and a groan as he pushed inside. “Gods, you’re soaked. So ready to be a good girl for me.” 

His hips ground against yours, setting the marks on your skin deliciously on fire. You’ve forgotten what words are as you moaned desperately. Pace quickening, he slid one hand between you and the mattress, fingers searching out your clit, leaving you panting. 

Fingers mercilessly worked you until you were right at the edge, the other hand playfully smacking you. You whimpered from the myriad sensations overwhelming you. “Come for me, beautiful.” 

You didn’t hesitate after his permission, clenching around him with a mewling cry. He continued to play with you as he chased his own release, slamming into you with wild abandon, rougher each passing second. Until at last, he stilled and with a throaty growl, spilled himself into you. 

There was no time, there was no space. Arms lifted you onto the bed, lying you on your side, lips kissing your cheek. “Sunrise,” You’re exhausted, but you knew he’d want to hear it. 

Nimble fingers gently pulled your clothes off as you shifted around to assist. His icy touch made you shiver and giggle slightly when it brushed your skin. “Sorry love, the water isn’t much better.” He kissed you as the touch of a marginally warmer rag began to clean your skin. 

What you wanted to say was that it didn’t matter because it was him touching and taking care of you, but you sighed happily instead. You almost lamented the loss of the evidence of your coupling, but the marks remained, you insist if it should happen, no magic would be used to heal them. “Can you sit?” 

The haze dissipated, and you managed to sit up enough, feeling the sweet sting of your marked skin. He pulled a nightshirt over your head, another soft kiss as a reward. “What would you like now, my love?” 

Leaning your forehead against him, you breathed him in, companion, lover, friend, ally, that piece of you that was missing and finally found. “Snuggle me, read to me.” Rarely did you ask for that, as much as you loved his voice, it seemed like a drain on his time. Only when your day had been particularly rough, but it felt like the perfect thing for the moment. 

“Of course my sweet.” Before long, he’s slipped off his clothes and joined you under the covers, reading softly as you curled up on his chest. 

When your companions eventually returned, they were blissfully unaware of what occurred. All they found was their tired leader, asleep next to a vampire who was glaring at them and mouthing to be quiet. 

tag list:

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[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Like a roller coaster.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

Marriages always have their ups and downs like a roller coaster. Even in the midst of an apocalypse, Daryl and you play a game until the situation gets a little out of control, but in the end, the only thing you two are sure about is that you have each other to keep living.

Based on the Beth and Daryl episode at the cabin.

Warning: Daryl being kind of a jerk, but don't be mad at him, because he's like a puppy that's been mistreated T-T I'm not trying to justify his behavior, but this is fiction and we all know Daryl's personality and insecurities. (Sorry if I didn't play this never have I ever game well, I don't know well how it works in English, and English is not my native language.)

Request are open! Hope you like this! Thank you♥

You knew Daryl long before the dead came back to life.

He was a young man working for the owner of a motorcycle repair shop: the pay was kind of bad, but good enough to get by. You were the child of a police officer, the typical sheltered (but down-to-earth) young person, just trying to make your life meaningful. Your older brother used to take you with him to get his bike repaired, and the rest of how you two met was history.

It was a good two and a half years, with a few petty arguments, and a ring hidden in the back of his drawer that he never gave you. But the day he broke up with you, he did it through his own pain, through his mistaken idea that he wasn’t enough for you, that the life he could offer you wasn’t the one you deserved, so that day, Daryl let you go. It would be a lie to say it was easy for him, because for the next 5 months, Daryl did nothing but come to see you almost every night, just to see that you got home safely from your job as a vet.

6 months later, the apocalypse began.

Daryl tried to find you, but your house was a mess, and there was no sign of you, so he and his brother left town. The day you two met again, his group had entered a pharmacy to get medicine for the people in the prison, and with your gun pointed at his head from behind, ordering him to put down his crossbow, Daryl recognized your voice after having dreamed about it every night.

Again, the rest was history.

Now, sitting in that old chair with your elbows on the table inside that dirty little cabin, the deep words of the book you had in front of you talking about marriage caught your attention as you watched the ring on your finger. The golden color remained. You two were married and everything was going well (in that new world).

“Somethin’s wrong with yer ring?” Daryl closed the door of the cabin holding a box with glass jars, and he walked to the table and set the box on top of it. “So?”

“No.” You said sincerely and looked at the box. “Tell me that’s water.”

Daryl chuckled and sat down in the chair in front of you on the other side of the table.

“No, woman. I found ‘em in the shed, they were very well hidden. Ya never heard of moonshine?”

“I only know beer.” You leaned against the back of the chair. “Does it taste just as bad?”

Daryl regarded you with malice.

“Tastes a lot worse. Wanna try it?”

“All right.” You shrugged. Daryl knew what was to come, but he still took an empty glass jar and filled it a little with that liquid that looked harmless and misleading. You took it and raised it to smell the strong sense that made your nose wrinkle in disgust. “Cheers.”

You took a sip holding your breath and the liquid slid down your tongue, your throat and finally all the way down, heating everything on the way to your stomach. You grimaced and left the glass jar on the table while you breathed again.

Daryl chuckled.

“How was it?”

The strong heat ran through your entire body making you feel a tickle in your stomach.

“It tastes awful, and I feel a strange heat in parts of my body.”

Daryl smiled slightly, rubbing his finger against his lower lip.

“Tell me if ya feel that heat in the part of your body in which I’m thinkin’ about, maybe I can help ya get rid of it.”

You laughed.

A drink of that liqueur and you already felt your cheeks red and the fire in your body. You tolerated alcohol well, kind of, but the first sip was always something shocking until your body became accustomed to it.

That’s when a funny memory popped into your mind.

“Do you want to play a game? We can use this poison as punishment.”

Daryl looked at you curiously and rested his elbows on the table.

“What kind of game?”

“Well… I say something I have never done, and if you have, you drink, and if you have not, I drink. Then we chang… What?”

His curious look didn’t change because the rules of the game made him wonder how many times you had played it. where, apparently, the liquor seemed to be mandatory.

“Ya played this many times?”

“I never liked liquor, it burns and it tastes bitter, but the game was fun in those days.” You cocked your head. “Should we play or not?”

His blue eyes held your gaze, without a particular expression on his face, but he pulled out two full jars, opened them and handed you one.

“Start.”

“Okay…” You bit your lips as you thought. “Never I have ever tried anything to make you feel attracted to me.”

Daryl chuckled.

“It wasn’t necessary. Ya got me in a second.” He drank the liquor and set it down on the table to look at you. “Never I have ever regretted marryin’ ya.”

He stared at you, cause sometimes he kept thinking that.

“Drink.” You said, pretending to be serious, but he smiled anyways. “Never I have ever had a bad allergic reaction for falling into poisonous ivy.”

“I don’t like this game.” He grunted because he was still losing, and drank from the jar. “Never I have ever kissed ma best friend in the mouth.”

“Oh, come on!” You complained. “I was 6 years old and his mom and mom made me do it.”

“Everythin’ counts, sunshine.” He chuckled. “Drink.”

You drank from the jar and grimaced.

“Never I have ever had a bad grade in elementary school.” You laughed. Daryl snorted because you used the history of his problems to learn mathematics against him, but he had to drink. “Oh, sweet revenge.”

“Be careful, woman.” He raised his eyebrows to warn of the consequences but you only shrugged. “Never I have ever fallen in love with ma high school teacher.”

You chuckled.

“I will not deny it. He was really handsome. And I hope he is still alive.” You bit your lip over the memory, but Daryl grunted because like any husband, he didn’t like you talking about other men. “Never I have ever rented a porn movie.”

Daryl licked his lip but drank.

“If we talk ‘bout sex this game will be more interestin’.”

Again, he rubbed his finger against his lip, thinking what would be the best memory among you to use it.

“Never I have ever had to wear a scarf to cover a hickey.”

“It was not a scarf.” You wrinkled your nose at him but you drank. “Never I have ever eaten animal food.”

Daryl chuckled and he drank.

“Never I have ever played Strip poker.”

Your heart beat fast suddenly, and you didn’t know if drinking was the right thing to do. You were ashamed of that memory, so ashamed you never told him about it. But he knew, your eyes as transparent as crystals were easy to read.

“What?” He frowned. “Ya undressed in front of another man, darlin’?”

You blinked at him.

“It’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t even get to-”

“What?” He leaned forward abruptly and you saw in his eyes that he was intoxicated by the alcohol. “Ya didn’t show yer breasts to another asshole than me?”

“Daryl, no-”

But Daryl got up pushing the chair back and taking the jar.

“I’m gonna take a piss.” He walked to the door a few steps behind him. The heat of the alcohol ran down his body and he dropped the jar to remove his belt. The glass broke on the floor, and it made a sharp noise that made you startle.

“Daryl-”

“I can’t hear ya!” He cut you off. “I’m takin’ a piss!”

“Please, we have to be quiet.” You said softly.

“Or what?!”

He was an asshole when he was drunk, his words, not yours. But his immature reaction made your body fell on the back of the chair.

“It was during the time I wanted to be accepted, okay? And I just took off my sweater before I realized I was being stupid and left it.”

“Oh yeah? And what else ya almost did?” He walked back to the table as he pulled up the closure of his pants, but didn’t sit down. “I thought I married a decent princess but I see yer more than that. I’ve never played strip poker. I’ve never drove a nice car like you. I didn’t have a dad to give me everythin’ I wanted!” Daryl pushed the chair and fell with another big noise against the wood. “I didn’t have a family that gave me everything I ask for!”

Suddenly, the growl of a walker caught your attention.

“We got another guest in this game!” Daryl walked to the couch behind you, he grabbed his crossbow and pointed at you with a finger. “Ya never shot a crossbow because I always protected yer ass, but I’m gonna teach ya a lesson right now.”

Daryl walked over to you and took you by the wrist, his grip tightening around it as he pulled you back into the living room and kicked the door open. That was a lie, you and he knew it: you had protected yourself, your friends, for a time without him, thanks to the shooting lessons your grandpa gave you.

But he made you walk down the wooden steps of the cabin and you surrounded it until you met the walker coming out of the bushes. Daryl lifted his crossbow and shot it right in the chest. The arrow pierced its rotten body and slammed it into the tree, but it never stopped groaned as Daryl prepared the crossbow again.

“I’ll teach ya how to shoot, honey. It is easy. Come here.” Daryl held you from behind and put an arm around you. The other hand held the crossbow. “Take it. Just point and shoot.”

Emotions were overflowing and you tried to take it but he fired first, failing on purpose. Your heart was as tight as a fist, and as he prepared the crossbow again, you took your knife out and walked to the walker to sink it into its skull. The rotten blood spilled out of it and you walked away in disgust.

“Hey! Why the hell did ya do that?! We were just havin’ fun!”

You gasped because the air didn’t seem to reach your body, because for a moment, his irresponsibility frightened you. You turned to him as he frowned at you. Your breathing was shaken as if you had run for hours, and the heat on your cheeks due to the alcohol intensified because of the frustration you felt.

“Don’t do anything like that again, Daryl.” You sounded firm even though you were breathing deeply. “What the hell is wrong with you? Playing with them is not fun. Risking your life is not fun either.”

“Don’t ya like this game?” Daryl approached you. “Ya like strip poker and I like to play with ‘em. What’s the problem?”

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something cold and cruel that would only make things worse. But you weren’t like that, and neither was he. His personality was explosive but he wasn’t negligent with your life or his.

“What is your problem?” You asked in a calm voice, totally opposite to the euphoria caused by the screams. “Daryl… you’re not like that. And honestly, you’re scaring me right now.”

It was then that he realized the fear in your eyes, for the first time in his life. He would never hurt you, he would die first.

“Don’t. Don’t do that…” He shook his head, walking slowly back to walk away. “Don’t ya dare to use those damn angel eyes with me! Ya like to do that, don’t ya? Play with me. Make me love ya and then…” He stopped, his gaze lost on a spot on the ground as his hair covered part of his eyes. “Then somethin’ could happen to ya. I’m so helpless I can’t protect ya always and if I lose ya…” Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat. He threw the crossbow to the ground and turned to cover his watery eyes. “Then I'll be less than nothin’.”

Your chest fell as you exhaled, realizing the fear in him. You walked towards him, watching the wings on his vest, and you wrapped your arms around his waist. The heat of your body startled him, but it confirmed that you were there with him.

“I’m afraid of losin’ ya.” His voice struggled not to break. “I’m afraid to keep losin’. I can’t lose our people or ya. I can’t live without ya.”

Any of you could die if you two weren’t careful, and you didn’t want to lie to him by telling him that nothing would happen to you.

“I’m here now, Daryl. That’s all that matters. I know I can protect myself but I also know you will. And I hope you know that I… will always try to protect you too. We are strong together. Okay? Hey… just turn around.”

You separated from him, and waited, until he turned to you with his gaze still on the ground. His strength didn’t last long when he saw you there, still alive, and he sobbed again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he instantly clung to you as if his life depended on it. You wanted to return to the life you two had before that world, but it was impossible now. The cold reality clung to you two, but the bravery in your hearts would keep you both alive and warm, so you knew, that everything would be alright after all.