#considering how much shorter the ‘Let me tell you were I really come from’ moment was compared to the comics

[dizzycoffee]

Oh my gosh I really love you Vox x Angel Reader!

Can we please get a part 2 of it but Valentino tries to take Reader away?

(Because you can't have a nice cup of tea without any drama 😏)

— Vox / Angel!Fem!Reader; Headcanons Part 3

it's a little shorter from the rest, but here you go !!

for the first post, click here ! for the second post, click here !

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ HEADCANONS ･*:.｡..｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Obviously, Vox put all his efforts in ensuring you and the other Vees DIDN'T meet

So when he comes to his private bedroom and finds Valentino and you pleasantly talking, Hell went on a blackout for good minute

"Voxy! How come you didn't tell me you were keeping this cute little angel?" Valentino's voice made Vox freeze for a brief moment, watching as the moth demon smirked up at him. Vox couldn't help but follow Valentino's hand, which was placed around your waist. Vox felt like tearing Valentino apart right then and there.

After you left for the day, Vox made it very clear that he didn't want Valentino around you

To which Val replies "But how could I do that when she's just so appetizing?"

Vox feels like he's going to lose it

At first, he feels like maybe Val is just teasing him. He thinks to himself, Val isn't that fucking stupid to actually go against his commands, not when Vox has been compliant with Val's own rules in his sets, right??

Oh boy was he WRONG

Those private moments the two of you shared became a trio hanging session

Vox HATED having to share moments with Val, especially since he hardly considered preserving your pureness

Val constantly making dirty jokes or offering you "a job" as "a star" made Vox sick to his stomach

You reassure him that you've heard worse by a certain angel coughcough adam but it still pisses Vox off to no ends

What's worse is that Vox knows that had he established a relationship for the two of you sooner, maybe Val would've had better decency

What REALLY drives Vox to become openly possessive was when Val had the balls to actually take the initiative with you

"Let's go on a date, pretty angel. I'll be sure to make your time worthwhile!"

Before you could reply, you felt Vox stiffen behind you. His claws dug into your waist as he pulled you back into his chest. You didn't turn to look, but you were sure he had a death glare in his eyes as he said, "Sorry to disappoint, but she's my girlfriend. Now, do you mind fucking off? We've got our own date to get to."

After Val had "fucked off," Vox and you FINALLY put a label on the relationship

He confessed that the simple idea of you being with anyone but him made his blood boil

He wants you all for himself, as selfish as it is

You tell him it's okay to be selfish sometimes, because as pure as you are, you selfishly want him just as much

Pulling you into a warm embrace, your wings instinctively around him, he also confessed that he loves you <3

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen) (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 2.8k+

Warning(s): Two gross dudes, sexual verbal harassment (not towards reader), swearing,

A/N: omg chapter 3 is finally here. I apologize for the wait. I thought my semester this time around would be forgiving but NOPE. I had so much to do and read, I could hardly write for fun or draw either. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last posted. I want to try a new method when writing series. I tried with my kpop writing blog, and its where I write a few chapters at a time then periodically post them. Helps keep the flow and motivation going, but that may have been a one off there.

Series Masterlist

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"O star of strength! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain; Thou beckonest with thy mailèd hand, And I am strong again... The Star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed. -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Light of Stars"

-------

Edward hasn't been in school for the past few days.

You admittedly felt a little lonely without his presence, though Emmett and Alice have made it their mission to become your new best friends. Jasper tried but he still kept his distance from you, which you didn't mind. Rosalie helped when no other Cullen was around, although she kept a lot of conversations at a minimum, which you also didn't mind.

Alice had told you Edward had gotten a bad cold, so he is staying home. You had offered to bring him your notes the first time so he could copy them down, but Alice told you their father has him basically on lock down until he is deemed healthy. So, after you've done your homework, you've been making copies of your notes to give him when he comes back.

It's the start of a new day and once again, Edward wasn't there. You were at your locker with 15 minutes to spare. You placed the spare folder with Edward's notes on the shelf while your mind went back to that moment you two shared at the welcoming party for your uncle. You felt happy telling him all the stars and constellation you could see, and even happier when he seemed thoroughly interested in your rambles. However, you feel an inkling of guilt when you remember he gave you his jacket. Maybe he got sick from that?

"Dude, I got this weird spot on my dick."

Well, there goes your musings of guilt. You glance to your left and see two guys near you, just chilling against the lockers. You've never met them, though you do remember sharing a class or two with them separately.

"Are you really airing your business out when someone is standing right their?" The shorter one, with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes gestures to you.

"Relax, Mark. That's the deaf student." The taller one with deep brown eyes and brown hair says with a laugh. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and choose to just focus on the inside of your locker. Maybe you should get more decorations- "Anyways, I have this weird spot on my dick. It almost looks like I have a weird mole there. I'm hoping it's just a new mole and Cindy didn't give me something."

Gross.

"I'd get that shit checked out then. You don't want it to turn into something worse if it is an STD." Mark says with a sigh. "I told you not to sleep with her, Tony. She made my balls itch like crazy. They still fucking itch."

"I think its just a weird mole. You wanna look?" He cackles while his friend fake gags. They both push off the lockers and walk away to who knows where.

You let out a deep sigh and close your locker. At least the ignorance of other allows you to hear some gossip.

"What's with the sigh, Tiny?" Emmett calls out as he and Rosalie approach you. He has very quickly taken to the nickname Tiny for you. You suppose anyone shorter than him would be considered tiny in his eyes. Rosalie simply opened her locker as you and Emmett conversed.

"Oh, just overheard two people talking about something that should have been a private conversation." You respond with a slight shrug.

"Gah, Forks High is full of a bunch of weirdos, huh?" He grins and raises his brows a few times, crossing his arms while leaning on the locker next to you. You silently chuckle and nod, though you wondered if there was an underlying joke there.

"No Edward today?"

"Nope. Carlisle still hasn't cleared him." He sighs with a sympathetic smile. "Between you and me, Tiny, Edward is still shitting his brains out." He signed that last portion to you.

You gave him a scandalized look and playfully slapped his arm with a small chuckle. You were surprised to feel just how hard his muscles were.

"What was that for?" He gripped where you slapped and pretended to be hurt. "It was a private conversation, no one else here except Rosalie knows sign."

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You could always count on Emmett to get you to smile.

"C'mon, Rose and I will walk you to first period, like always." He grins and gestures you to follow him. Rose simply came along since she and Em were in the class next to yours. You nod and follow, happy to have good company.

---

It was a passing period and it was just you and Rose at your lockers. You grabbed a new pen and pencil since the last two you had broke and ran out of ink. Rosalie was fluffing up her already perfect, blond hair in the mirror of her locker. She and you didn't converse much, but you still liked her presence. Like the rest of the Cullens, she didn't tiptoe around you or treated you differently. She acknowledged your presence and would answer you if you had questions.

You were about finished in your locker when you heard two familiar voices keep up their gross conversations behind you.

"Dude, Rosalie has the hottest ass." Tony practically jeers, his voice intentionally loud. You glance to the blond next to you and she still keeps fixing her hair, though you can see her brows are a little more furrowed and her lips are more in the shape of a frown.

"Her tits, man, her tits are where it's at." Replies Mark and when you shift just enough to see him in the corner of your eyes, you see him make an obscene gesture.

You hear the slight creek of metal and when you look to Rose, you see her grip is so tight on her locker door that her fingers made indents which made your eyes widen for a moment. She closes her locker and you can see by her side profile she is pissed, and rightfully so.

So, you do what you think would make her laugh at the expense of those two guys.

You tap her arm to get her attention and she looks at you with a glare. You don't let it faze you. If those two are going to be gross about your friend, you'll just air out their business that they so willingly aired out by you this morning.

"You know those two jackasses?" You intentionally look to them as you sign and look back at her. "Well the brown haired one has a spot on his penis that he isn't sure if it's a mole or an STD. And his buddy likely doesn't wash right since he's had prolonged itchy balls."

Rosalie looks almost scandalized until her eyes widen for a moment as she looks at the two dudes and then back to you. She covers her mouth as she laughs when she realizes what you're trying to do.

You were about to sign some more when the two dumbasses approach.

"I know you were talking shit. What the fuck did you sign?" Tony glared, pointing an accusatory finger at you. He gets in your face and you swear you hear Rosalie growl.

You swallow thickly and decide to open your mouth. Your aunt always said you got your stubbornness from your mom.

"I said..." You try not to wince at the pain in your throat, your voice sounding hoarse. "You had a weird spot on your dick and your friend... has itchy balls." They looked at you with wide, horrified looks. "Don't talk about someone's body if you don't want yours talked about either."

"You little shit." Mark hisses and Rose steps closer to your side, an arm just barely in front of yours.

"What's going on here?" Emmetts voice grows louder as he approaches, his usual, carefree smile no longer on his face. He looked scarier than you've ever seen him. Mark and Tony looked at each other before slinking off.

Once they were gone you let out a dry, painful cough. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and quickly grab your water and drink, soothing your throat. You could taste a tiny bit of iron in the back of your throat as you drank.

Rosalie calls your name softly. "Are you okay?"

You nod in response and take another sip of water. You didn't catch the look they gave each other or Rose gesturing for Emmett to speak.

"What happened, Tiny?" He asks in a quiet tone. You close the cap of your bottle and place it back in your bag. Your throat still ached but you knew the pain from using your larynx will linger.

You start to sign to him everything that occurred, from what you overheard in the morning to him approaching. You can see a flash of anger on his face but he goes back to that small smile. Once you explained your words to Rose and why you said them, a huge grin breaks out on his face.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Tiny." He laughs and pats your shoulder a little too firmly.

"Come, I'll walk you to class." Rosalie said with a soft tone. You nod and wave goodbye  to Emmett. You both start heading down the hallway, the blond next to you tense.

When you got to your class a pale hand stopped you. You look to Rose with a questioning look while her gold eyes avoid yours.

"I just wanted to say thank you for earlier." Rosalie says, the tense look she had fades into a small smile, her eyes meeting yours. You see some vulnerability in her usually guarded gaze. She gives your shoulder a squeeze before dropping her hand. "You didn't have to do that. I'm... admittedly used to that."

"No need to thank me, Rosalie." You smile back at her.

"I do, because not many would step up like that." She softly sighs and her smile grows a bit. You felt her words had more meaning to them, but you decided to not linger on them for now. "I know I've been slightly avoiding you but I have a hard time trusting hu- new people. But, after today, I think I want to open up a bit and be friends."

"I'd like that too." You beam. "Alice has been begging me to do a shopping trip, maybe the three of us can plan a trip soon."

"I'd... I'd like that." She almost looks like she is relieved and less guarded.

"Is your hand okay?"

"What?"

"Well, I saw you grip your locker and you dented it."

"Oh. Yeah, it's fine. I work on cars and my grip is strong. It's nothing." She holds out her hands and you saw just flawless skin. "Well, I will see you soon. Class is starting."

"Talk to you later." You wave and go to class. You sit down at your usual spot and start preparing. You sigh, irritated at the way those two spoke about Rose so loudly. But you also felt happy you and Rose were close now. Her bending the locker was suspicious... there were many things off with the Cullens that you've picked up, however, you don't linger on it. They have their quirks much like you have your own.

---

Edward lounged on the couch reading, back from his trip up to the Denali clan to clear his head. After witnessing that nightmare from you, he needed a moment alone to sort his thoughts. He wasn't sure what he felt afterwards but once he took some time to sort out his thoughts, he came back to Forks. None of the others knew what happened. He didn't tell them those details of your life, as none of them were privy to it. He wasn't either but that bridge has been crossed thanks to his ability and curiosity of the galaxy protecting your mind.

He felt guilt initially when he realized he deeply invaded your privacy. Then, despair and immense sadness followed when he recalls back to your nightmare, your past. Edward had seen many horrors in his long life, he even committed some when he'd hunt those men. However when he witnessed what you went through, he couldn't help feel a spark of protectiveness. You were nice. He found you a joy to be around despite it not being long since you transferred. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to you.

Edward couldn't help but smile when he thought back to you and him outside the fire station. It was a peaceful moment. He couldn't help but linger on the sight of you in his jacket, pointing out the stars and constellations. It was silent other than your internal thoughts. And when he got to witness your galaxy so at peace? He also felt a sense of tranquility he longs for.

Edward quickly put those thoughts away and resumed his attention his book when he heard his adoptive siblings come in. Alice and Jasper pass without saying to him, which he was slightly thankful for. However, Emmett and Rosalie lingered by him.

"How can I help you both?" Edward sighs, snapping the book closed as he looks at both of them.

Rose crosses her arms. "You need to come back tomorrow."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, Tiny happened." Emmett grinned and gestured to Rosalie. The blond sighed and let the memory replay of you standing up for her so Edward can see what happened today. He furrows his brows, setting his book down. He stands up from the couch and looks between the two.

"My guess is those two will probably retaliate against our friend one way or another." Rosalie says softly. Edward chooses not to point out how she said 'our friend.' "You spend the most time with them, they'll need you to stick around them the most."

Edward nods slowly. He recognizes Mark and Tony, and he knows they each have a class with him and you. He's heard the thoughts that spew from them both like garbage and he knows they aren't above getting back at someone.

"I'll come back tomorrow." He confirms. He wanted one more day to himself, but tomorrow is good as ever to face you again. He knows how you lost your voice and how you ended up living with your uncle and aunt now, but you don't know he knows. And he'll have to keep that in mind.

Although, Edward couldn't help but smile at the sound of your voice in Rosalie's memory. It was rough and hoarse, and it caused you pain, pain he doesn't want you feeling again... but it was nice hearing that voice that matches to the one in your head... when that space of yours is dropped.

---

You make your way to your locker first thing in the morning. You get yourself situated, grabbing the things you need for your classes before lunch. You set aside the folder where you kept your copies of notes for Edward down on the small shelf. You huff softly, throat still feeling sore from using your voice.

A familiar voice calling your name has you spinning around quickly, a smile instantly growing on your face. Edward approaches you with a small smile, looking the same as he did the last time you saw him.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." You grin, your mind flashing back to what Emmett signed to you in regards to Edward's health. You catch your friend's eyebrow twitch, a flash of annoyance on his face that he quickly recovered.

A Cullen quirk, you muse to yourself.

"Yeah. I'm doing a lot better now." He replies softly, standing  a little closer to you than usual.

"I have something for you." You see his eyebrow quirk as you turn back to your locker. You pull out the black folder and hand him it. "Notes for the classes we share."

Edward stares down at the folder before chuckling. He looks up at you and gives you brilliant smile, one that makes your heart flutter for just a moment. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

Suddenly, you feel hand on your back. Edward was standing much closer to you with an expression akin to a scowl as he stares off a little. He looks to you and smiles softly, though you can still see the tension on his face.

"We should get to the classroom. I'll probably have questions about what I missed." He says in a low voice. You nod, a little confused by his demeanor. You finish up with your locker and let him guide through the hallway, his cold hand still resting on the middle of your back.

You weren't aware of Tony's and Mark's presences until you both were walking by them to your first period classroom. You paid them no mind, keeping your focus ahead of you. Doing this, however, has you missing the deep and threatening glare from Edward towards the both of them.

As you both walked through the hallway, Edward felt that his non-existent blood boiling at the degrading, violent, and nasty thoughts those two were thinking. He knew they both weren't the best that Forks has to offer, their thoughts sometimes louder than others.

That protective urge he felt after witnessing your nightmare? It's working overtime now and he isn't completely sure why.

What Edward does know that he won't let them try anything towards you.

------

Taglist: @buckybarnes-1917​, @trawberry-fire​ , @dreamy-caramel​, @urgirlfriendspage @azazel-nyx @stinkii-boii @vanessalovesonedirection @sunnyisntthere @theatrenerd101601 @awesomebooklover17 @esposadomd @whichwitchisthebitch @bofadeezs @gons-dad-is-gon-e @kathsuhki @aoi-targaryen @srh-006 @onlyheretosimp

[starz222]

6reeze / 5wirl : as popular tropes

scara - enemies to lovers | venti - friends to lovers xiao - miscommunication | kazu - mutual piningheizou - academic rivals cw not proof read might be ooc notes sorry no aether :( idk how to write him . also i hate kazuha's part

scara – enemies to lovers

goddamn raiden scaramouche. he just always had to be right, didn’t he? god, you just wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. he was so damn blunt all the time, but it was more annoying how he was right. he’s short and he’s especially mean when he opens his mouth. what’s there to even like!? one of the things you hate about him was how he found out about one of your most embarrassing secrets and told everyone.

“i hate him! i can’t stand to be in the same room as him.” you complain to your friend, childe. he raises his eyebrows at you, “looks like someone’s got a crush.” you scoff and roll your eyes at him, “c’mon, i hate the guy’s guts!” you furrow your eyebrows. childe looks at you with a smug expression, “uh huh, that’s why you’ve been talking about him for the last 48 hours?” you didn’t even reply. you just stormed off. you hear childe in the distance, “looks like i was right!”

he turns to his phone, “did you hear all of that?” 

“....yeah.” scaramouche finds himself dumbfounded. the next day, you find yourself avoiding him entirely. you saw a glimpse of him in the hallway? run to the nearest room. you saw his backpack behind a locker? run the opposite way. you see childe talking to someone shorter than him? it might not be scaramouche, considering childe is incredibly tall, but still, you choose to run away.

after seeing a silhouette that looks exactly like him in the halls, you run into the nearest room– the library. there, you hide behind a couple of bookshelves, trying to catch your breath. you turn to the right to take a peek at the entrance– what if he went inside? you sigh in relief when you see no one there, and you turn back to the bookshelf in front of you.  and oh– there’s someone towering over you. the person you’ve been avoiding all this while. he’s got you pinned to the bookshelves, and you look down at the ground feeling your cheeks become hot. his right hand is over your head and his left blocking your way out. 

“why are you avoiding me?” he says, not letting his eyes off of you, “it’s– it’s nothing!” you look further away. “the floor must be really interesting.” he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him, eye-to-eye. “tell me, why are you avoiding me?” you feel your body tense and your ears turn bright red. “because…” 

“because what?” “i…like you..” you say in a soft voice, so quiet only a mouse couuld hear. 

“i can’t hear you.” 

“i like you!” it’s quiet. scaramouche isn’t saying anything. he takes his hands off the bookshelf and looks at you. “i thought you hated me.” he says, “i don’t know! i don’t know anymore, i—” 

he cuts you off by placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“i… like you too.”

xiao – miscommunication

he was so confused about his feelings for you. he didn’t know what was going on with him. whenever you were around, his face would heat up and he’d become more tense. to others, he’d stay quiet, barely saying a word. but when it comes to you— oh, he doesn’t know what to do. he talks more, so much more. it’s something about you that just makes him lose it. 

when he thinks his feelings will only hurt you, he’ll distance himself from you. you’ll stop seeing him around liyue, and you’ll stop hearing his voice, asking you how you’ve been. when you call out his name, he won’t appear. but that feeling you get that someone’s watching your every move, that doesn’t go away at all.

he thinks you hate him now, now that he’s gone out of touch with you. he thinks that as a human, you won’t realize how important it is to live life to the fullest, and that you should not spend your moments with someone like him. an immortal being with so much karmic debt on his shoulders haunting him every single second of the day. but, that all went away with you. you brought so much happiness and joy to his life, and you’ve made him experience so many things he never thought he’d got to feel. 

but he was scared. scared of you getting hurt because of him, what if he’s the reason you don’t get to be happy? those thoughts stopped him from getting close to you— to be able to communicate with you. 

one day, you catch him stumbling on his feet, walking unbalanced. suddenly, he collapses. you run over to him and let him rest on your lap, he slowly opens his eyes and breathes in deeply. “[name]?” his voice is husky, his eyebrows are furrowed, “am i… imagining things?” he blinks slowly again, “there’s… there’s no way you’d actually do this.” his breaths are heavy and when you put your hand over his forehead, it’s burning hot. “xiao, you’re heating up, what happened? are you okay?” you ignore his words. “i’m.. i’m fine. just stay here with me. it doesn’t matter if you’re my imagination.” xiao looks at you through his lashes, “i missed you, xiao. you have no idea how much i liked you– and how much i still do.” 

xiao simply shakes his head. “no..no, i hurt you. you can’t do that, you can’t say–” he coughs, “you can’t say that.” he sniffs his nose, “just get some rest, xiao. let’s talk when you’re okay.” you say softly. “i’m so sorry, [name]. i didn’t want you to get hurt–” 

“please get some rest, xiao. you’re not okay.” 

heizou – academic rivals

heizou was one of the top students.you always ranked 2nd after him, and it infuriated you. not only that, but he was difficult to talk to, and he always seemed to be one step ahead of you. you always compared your scores with him the minute you got them, but he would always end up scoring one point higher than you.

this semester, you were set on defeating him. you studied all day and night, drank gallons of coffee, and barely slept. you thought about getting a score higher than his, how much you hate his intuition and him always being so spot on. 

“wake up, [name]!” venti shakes you awake, “‘m not sleeping! i’m..i’m not sleeping-” you jot up in surprise. “you should get some sleep,” he sighs. “no, i can’t. i absolutely have to beat him this time around.” you say. “so, i can’t afford some shutter-eye right now.” 

little did you know that “him” was just right around the corner, and he heard everything you said. “looks like your rival’s out to get you.” kazuha teased. “they should really get some sleep once in a while…” heizou mutters to himself. 

the day of the exams, you were overprepared, you were determined, you were confident you were going to ace this test and finally beat him. you just downed a cup of coffee, and you’re ready to take the exam. a few days afterwards, you get the results for the examination. you run to see a certain maroon-haired fellow. 

“heizou!” you run towards him, holding a paper in your hands. “what was your score… hah.. on the- the exam..” you pant and rest your arms on your knees. “woah there, excited much?” he takes your paper, “just- just tell me.” you take a while to catch your breath. he scans your paper, “79/80. wow, you’ve defeated the mighty shikanoin heizou.” he tells you. 

“i did?”

“you did. only because i let you.”

“oh my god–” you ignore his words. “i did!” you blink. “i don’t think the entire campus can hear you yet–” you blink again. “[name]!” you collapse into his arms, he’s swift, and caught you in time. “you did great, seriously. just get some sleep now.” he mutters, he’s noticed in the past weeks that you were slouching all the time, and your eyebags got worse. your voice got croaky, and he always caught you drinking coffee, honestly, was there ever a moment when you weren’t holding a coffee?

“my my, the prince charming gets his happy ending alas.” kazuha walks from behind. "by the way, congrats on getting perfect scores." 

“thanks.”

venti – friends to lovers

to be honest, you’ve gotten confused whether or not hanging out with him were just plain friendship stuff– or dates. knowing his secret, that he’s actually barbatos, the anemo archon, he uses his powers freely around you, making it easier to access beautiful city views. he invited you to watch the stars with him on the anemo god’s statue in the center of mondstadt, late at night. he uses his powers and holds your hand as you fly up to the statue’s hands, and there you lay down with him.

up there, the wind tickles your cheek, and venti is weirdly silent. it’s not like him at all to be quiet. so, you ask him, “what’s wrong?” he turns to you and says, “do you think they’ll like me back?” your heart drops. you tell yourself, you should be happy for your friend, finding his own happiness. but why not with you? “i mean, of course. what’s there not to like about you?” venti laughs. “there’s… so much i need to tell you.” 

“well you didn’t even tell me about your special someone” you turn away, throwing up in the air the apples you got for venti. “hey– i couldn’t!” he becomes defensive, “it’s just… they’re amazing. all my years roaming teyvat, i’ve never met anyone so… just so amazing.” he smiles, “see? i can’t even put my feelings into words— and i’m a poet!” he pulls his knees to his chest, “i don’t know what to do…”

“you should choose me instead.” you think out loud, venti looks at you in shock. “wh-what? what’d you say?” his pupils diate and his ears become hot. “don’t make me say it again, it’s embarrassing.”

“no, no! not at all, [name], i’d gladly choose you. you’re the one i like” he gets up and holds both of your hands.

“so… does this mean we’re–” 

“yep.”

kazuha – mutual pining

the crux has been through a lot, and god do they drink. it’s interesting to see kazuha not in his calm composure, instead slurring his words and his sentences full of hiccups. tonight, he drank a lot. the rest of the crew were passed out somewhere or simply sleeping. you were worried of leaving kazuha alone in this state– only archons know what’d happen to him.

“mmm–” he coos as he tilts his head at you. he giggles as he grabs a small photograph kept in his front pocket, he scooches over to you and shows you the picture. it’s a picture of you smiling. you ask him, “what’s this?”and he smiles, “the person i love oh so dearly…” he holds the picture as if it was fragile, like the slightest movement would ruin it. “don’t tell anyone, but..” he whispers into your ear, “i’m gonna marry them one day…” he giggles. he shoves the picture into your face, “look, *hic* aren’t they so cute?” you laugh, “you’re adorable, kazuha.” he looks at you, as if he’s offended. “well– *hic* i appreciate the compliment, but… you’re not [name], i’d like it if you didn’t say that, especially if they’re around.” he pouts. “y’know, i have someone i like too.” you smile at him, “really?” he entertains your sudden statement.

“yeah, he’s the nicest person i know. it’s like i can’t live without him.” the heavy weight you feel now being lifted off your chest. “you must really like him.” kazuha says, “what’s his name?” “his name’s kazuha. does that sound familiar?” you take your shot, it’s most likely he won't be able to remember this when he wakes up anyway, so why not?  “it does– oh.” he’s taken aback, in fact slightly sober now. he rubs his eyes multiple times and blinks profusely. 

“[name]—” 

“can i call you cute now?” 

tags @aimynx ( taglist for all of my works ! currently open )

[honkytonk-hangman]

Top Gun: Maverick Masterlist

Teacher's Pet [Hangman x Reader] Summary: You need to come up with a lesson plan to teach your eighth graders about aerodynamics, only, you barely understand a word of it yourself. Luckily for you, your boyfriend has a pretty decent knowledge of the subject.

Afterburn [Hangman x Reader] Summary: It had been clear from the moment you got inside a cockpit that you were going to be something special. You certainly weren’t the youngest Naval Aviator to be invited to TOPGUN, but you had been the youngest to graduate at number one in more than thirty years. Which is all the more reason why it was so tragic that you would never, ever, be able to fly again.

Meet You All The Way [Rooster x OC/Reader] Summary: Now that they had reconciled, Rooster is struggling to figure out the right way to tell Maverick that he had a family all of his own now.

Hold The Line [Platonic Hangman x OC/Reader] Summary: Jake presses his lips together as he lets out a sigh. He leans forward on the railing again, eyes once more following the little boy who was quite happily playing by himself in the sand. “I just thought that Baby Goose deserved to grow up knowing his dad.”

Line of Sight [Hangman x Reader] COMPLETE Summary: You’re almost certain that Jake Seresin could care less about you, that is, until you’re in a tight spot and the one guy you assume will hang you out to dry, instead comes to your rescue.

Cont. ↓

How it's Done [Hangman x Aviator!Reader] Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

What You Want [Rooster x Reader] Summary: Rooster is aware that despite working together for a little over six months now, he doesn’t really know you all that well. One late night walk to your car later, Rooster realises he’d like that to change.

Goodness! Gracious! [Rooster x Reader] Summary: You wouldn’t say you were trying to give your 'Uncle’ Mav a taste of his own medicine, after all, it was him who introduced you to Rooster in the first place, but you weren’t exactly trying to spare the man, either.

Good In Bed [Hangman x Reader] Summary: Jake has made it crystal clear to you that you’re only friends with benefits, so why did he go and delete your dating apps?

Checkmate [Hangman x Reader] Summary: You’ve been transferred to Dagger Squad, which is both good and bad. Good, because it meant the brass felt you belonged with the best. Bad, because the best already had a tight friendship group, and you were not yet apart of that. And you may never be, if you keep making fun of a certain someone’s callsign.

In Sickness... [Hangman x Reader] Summary: Jake feels his pulse jump and his stomach fly when he talks to or about you. Obviously, this must mean he’s gravely ill.

...And In Health [Hangman x Reader] Summary: A year after Jake has come to terms with his sickness, he might just have the opportunity to find the cure.

Devil In Disguise [Hangman x Reader] Summary: in which Jake finds out the female officer he’s been eye fucking for half an hour is actually JAG.

Big Girl [Hangman x Reader] Summary: Jake Seresin doesn’t believe you should hide your light under a bushel, no.

SunKissing [Hangman x Reader] Summary: Eight and a half months Dagger had been at sea, which is honestly one of the shorter deployments Jake had been on, certainly not one he’d have usually complained about, except that this time, for the first time, Jake had somewhere else he wanted to be aside from in his jet.

Flight Risk [Hangman x Reader] Summary: The sky beyond the baking tarmac is cloudless, and washed with deep reds and oranges, the way it always is by the time Jake lands when the monthly inter-squad training simulation has drawn to a close. Almost always. Today, the sky had been a bright Carolina blue.

Today, Hangman had been shot down.

Take Care Of Business [40s AU Hangman x Reader] The last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you’d been in a floundering engagement. Back then you’d seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it.

All This Love [Hangman x Reader] “Congratulations?” Rooster half-praises, half-questions, side-eying Jake, who stiffens just slightly, but finds himself relaxing when he looks back up at the grainy ultrasound. “Thanks,” he says, feeling his stomach flutter at the memory of the first time he saw it.

When Jake Met Polly [Hangman x Reader] Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

[freckled-koi]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒓

summary: you've known gojo since your training days at jujutsu tech. you were inseparable - as thick as thieves. so, what happened?

pairing: satoru gojo x reader (feat. nanami x reader).

cw: angst, emotional manipulation / mental spiral, mature themes. 18+ / minors dni.

wc: 3k+

a/n: third chapter = posted! this one is much shorter, but has some fluff with nanami and i kinda like it a lot heh. slowly but surely!

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

if you haven’t already, please check out the previous chapters located here, and also here on ao3 for easy access!

003.

“And then– Then, he just says, ‘Come over to my place’. Like–” You throw your hands up with the tongs in one hand still, hardly paying much attention to the grilled meat in front of you.

“-- Like what makes you even think I would say yes to that?! Just a ‘come over to my place’! No ‘sorry Y/N for not talking to you in months’; no ‘I’m so sorry for treating you like dirt beneath my feet’.”

Explaining the moment and even going as far as to mock the way Gojo speaks to you, really read into the moment about how much it bothered you.

The momentary rambling you do doesn’t phase Nanami when he sits across from you, sleeves rolled up after shedding the suit jacket and loosening his decaled tie once the two of you had been seated and ordered. The drive over was silent for the most part, especially when you were just reveling in what happened in your office after Nanami had stepped in, but he let you soak in it for a while.

It was up until he could tell it was still bothering you when you both sat down, he inquired about it, and you opened the floodgates to unload every minute you could recount the moment you had walked back to your office.

“God, Kento, it’s as if he doesn’t care about how I feel or whatever I say, he just thinks he’ll get what he wants by acting the way he does! I mean, come on, you’ll have any girl fall at your feet if you even give her the attention you do to get what you want, but me? ME? He knows how much that shit bothers me, so I don’t know why he does it!”

Nanami had already shed his glasses amidst the conversation, pouring himself another shot of sake provided for the both of you. He’d already taken one when you began the rundown, but he needed another with just how much he was hearing. He even went as far as pouring you a shot, taking it with steady hands in the middle of your rambling to swallow down.

There’s a heavy breath that leaves you after the drink, staring down at the grill between the two of you before he’s offering his hand to take the tongs from your hold, to which you acceptingly choose to do.

You grow quiet for a moment as he turns the meat over onto its side carefully, expelling a heavy sigh.

“I didn’t even say no.” You murmur, leaning back into your seat with your arms crossed.

“Why didn’t you?” Nanami inquires, peering up from his work at the grill to watch you, your own gaze lifting from the table to meet his own. His words weren’t meant to be demeaning, the question alone just wanting more insight.

“I.. I don’t know, he just– He wasn’t asking. He didn’t even ask. He just said it. I mean, I told him I already had plans, but he saw through that–”

Nanami’s lips purse for a slip second before his facial features relax back into that stoic expression of his, contemplating his next words that don’t come for a while.

“You might have to consider the following,” He starts, your frame shifting to have you sit up a bit straighter as he speaks, attentive to his words.

“Satoru is more or less on edge with Suguru Geto still at large with his genocidal mission and going under the radar, where we can’t find him unless we’re lucky enough to have some intel. Considering your history with him, and how much he held with you, maybe.. What had happened with the two of you months prior might have something to do with it.”

You draw your lips inward in thought to it, brows knit together.

“He might want to reach out to you in a way that’s more personal.”

“It worries me, Kento. Just.. The last time we were alone together, it– It wasn’t..”

You struggle to explain it, even stumbling over your words that have Nanami a little taken back. You digress, sighing out of frustration to it as you give up on explaining it entirely. Nanami would have a better understanding on why you rejected the idea of being in the same room with him in present day, but you decide to put it to rest. Eventually, he reaches to place a few pieces of the meat that were cooked to completion onto the plate adjacent to you.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me earlier today.”

Nanami’s brows raise slightly.

“About.. Not giving Satoru so much grace if I know how he is.”

There’s a low hum that emits from the man across from you in acknowledgement, setting the tongs down as he’s pouring another drink for the two of them.

“I.. might have spoken out of turn when I had said that to you, and my apologies for doing so, Y/N. If what I said swayed you to think otherwise..”

“No, Nanami, it’s okay.. Really,” You say with a quiet laugh leaving you, picking up your glass after the pour that you mutter a ‘thank you’ to, sliding it back over to you. “It’s.. giving me more introspection. A reality check, you could say.”

You say the last sentence with a bit of playfulness in your tone to lighten the mood once more, something that Nanami slightly smiles at. You catch that smile again and it makes your stomach tighten having to see it, and you can’t help but smile at it either.

“I should be apologizing to you actually. I can’t believe you’d just let me sit and ramble on and on about Satoru Gojo, considering how much you feel about him.”

“Like I had said before and I’ll say again– I’d be a fool not to care. Any decent man–”

“--Would want to be worried, yes, I remember~” You chime just as you’re taking a full swig of your drink.

Nanami does the same, smile stretched just a little bit larger than the one you pulled out of him.

Maybe you had too much to drink.

Nanami was good at holding his liquor, but you could tell he was just a bit buzzed by how much the two of you were slamming one bottle after another. You lost count at that point.

Walking out of the restaurant, you almost stumble a bit, and Nanami is quick to take a steady hold of your shoulders, even going as far as to loop your arm onto his own.

“Hold onto me for now.”

You hum in approval, making sure to have a decent grasp on him as you walk, your feet hardly finding stability at first but with Nanami’s guidance, it was slowly getting there. You were both dropped off by an associate to get to the restaurant, since cab fare was fairly high these days, Nanami decided just to walk you home before making his way home as well. It was on the way, and he didn’t want you walking home alone at this hour.

The way Nanami was taking care of you after the meal was heartwarming to you. Knowing Nanami’s nature, he showed genuine care underneath that stone-cold countenance he wore. There were things he was completely sick of and dejected, but there was still a few ounces of care left in him that he would show in his actions. This was one of those moments.

Granted, he voiced his care towards you a couple times today, and even days before that in little doses you were well aware of.

Even at the thought of it, you mindlessly lean your cheek against his clothed bicep, eyelids lowering and feeling that dizziness wrack your brain to your intoxication. It’s when you do this, Nanami’s grip on you stifles in tightness, but becomes more secure. You’re surprised when he doesn’t retract to the feeling or even nudge you. Maybe your drunken state was playing mind games with you, almost swearing you could feel an inkling of him subtly brushing back into it.

It’s quiet for most of the walk home, but the moment you retract slightly to catch a glance at Nanami, he’s eyeing over the dazzlingly elegant watch he fashioned on his wrist before meeting your gaze.

“Did you make your decision?” He inquires, your brows knitting together.

“Is it late..?” You peer over to his watch, hardly catching the time as he lowers his hand.

“Half past 7.. It’s not too late.”

“Mn.”

You sigh out heavily, finally finding your footing and shifting just a bit to create a little bit of space between the two of you, even when you were still holding onto Nanami’s arm.

“I feel like I’m a little too intoxicated to handle Satoru’s mysteriousness right now, so I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Shower when you get in. Maybe that’ll do you some good, clear your head up a bit.” Nanami suggests, your gaze still lingering on him. “If you feel like you shouldn’t after a moment of clarity, then you can make a decision.”

It’s then when you finally reach home, standing in front of your apartment complex and Nanami ever-so gently lets go of your arm, carefully steadying you even when you sway once more. You face the much taller man, eyeing over his stature before you flash him a soft smile, that was probably more lazy than you had wanted to translate.

Nanami mirrors the smile back with one that held so much weight, it made your chest tighten just a smidge.

“Thank you for dinner tonight,” He says lowly, retracting his hands only to lift one to gently place his larger palm at the top of your head to caress. The touch was comforting, and you weren’t sure if it was the booze or the affectionate gesture coming from Nanami, but you could feel a slow wave of warmth wash over you.

This was a newer side to Nanami that you were tapping into, and you never thought for a second he’d give it to you. Especially when you were rambling about your situationship with Gojo. Even after all of that, he still showed you the tenderness you deserved.

Feeling his hand leave your head, he now tucks his hands into his tan trousers, nodding towards the building.

“Maybe next time when the circumstances aren’t what they are, we can spend time like this together again.” Nanami says.

It’s enough for you to smile a bit more timidly to the suggestion, hiding back the grin you were wanting to show brightly to it. More time with Nanami would do you more good than anything.

“We can. No worries about that.” You say almost a little too confidently, earning a laugh from Nanami before he’s giving a slight bow of his body.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Nanami. Be careful on your way home.”

Saying your departures, you turn to head into your building, and you can feel the eyes on you watching until you made it in and Nanami is making his way back to his place for the night.

Showering was the last thing you wanted to do, but Nanami having suggested it, you decided it would be fair to take his advice on this one.

It was already reaching 9 o’clock on the dot the minute you step out of the shower and dress yourself into more comfortable loungewear than the work uniform you adorned, towel drying your tresses as you stare at the clock on the wall in the living room.

You were still a little buzzed, but your mind was definitely much clearer. Now, you’d have to really decide if going over to Gojo’s was really going to be worth it.

You can’t help, but recall the conversation you had in your office for probably the tenth time tonight, replaying his words constantly.

You begin weighing the pros and cons.

The pros would be you get a chance to hear Gojo out, communicate what had been going on, maybe get an apology out of him and the connection you held with Gojo could begin to build back up again.

The cons were you didn’t want to find out. You didn’t want to be disappointed in the complete opposite. What if he came back with something akin to saying he can’t be around you anymore, or even blame you for not trying hard enough to restore even their companionship?

The unknown was always unsettling and filled with discomfort, but if you just knew what was going on in that big head of his, maybe things would be better. Not knowing was the worst; not knowing would only drive you to overthink and settle deeper into that discomfort and sadness you were holding previous to when he spoke to you for the first time in months in your office.

You groan loudly.

“Fucking idiot.” You grunt as you toss the towel into the nearest hamper and begin gathering what you needed to head out. You weren’t sure if the derogative that left you was aimed towards Gojo or even yourself, it just happened to slip out when you made your final decision.

It’s quite a walk to where Gojo’s home resided, so you had to bite the bullet and just pay a cab to get you across town. That was one thing you’d at least hope Gojo would compensate you for.

As soon as you arrive, you head into the complex he was located in. It was like you remembered the way there, like the back of your hand. It was a place you frequented often, so the short months of not being able to do this, just came back to you naturally. Of course, his flat was on the highest floor in the building and you subconsciously rolled your eyes to it. Nothing ever changed with just how flamboyant Gojo was in other aspects, especially when it came to money. He had it, might as well flaunt it, you suppose.

There’s a hesitance in your walk the more you grow closer to his door after stepping off the elevator, already having second thoughts about doing this.

Maybe you shouldn’t be here right now; maybe this was a mistake.

He said it himself, if you didn’t show up, he’d get the message.

But here you were.

Turning back would be a little foolish — you brought yourself all the way out here to what, not get any answers?

Maybe getting a form of closure would do nothing for you in the end.

It’s like mental gymnastics the more you dwell on it, already finding yourself in front of his door before you’re reaching out to ring his doorbell.

As if it’s clockwork, it doesn’t take much time before the door is swinging open and Gojo appears behind it, standing there shirtless. He fashioned just a pair of gray sweats, and your eyes flit up his frame before it’s settled on the glistening facial features, even his slightly dampened hair.

The white haired man’s tiers stretch into an appeased smile, leaning into the doorframe as he stares over your appearance before him.

“I was wondering when you’d be here. I mean, I could see you were thinking a little too hard through the wall—“

“Can you.. put a shirt on?” You say with a hint of annoyance in your tone and he only laughs at that. Typical response.

“I just got out of the shower, please. Plus, this is my home. I don’t have to put a shirt on for anybody.. Honestly, I think they’d want to see me shirtless even if I did~”

All you give is a roll of your eyes, and it’s enough for him to lift his arm and push the door further open for you to enter, a little too smitten by the reactions he gets out of you.

“You can come in, Y/N. I’ll go put a shirt on too, if you so badly want me to~”

“Yeah, yeah.” You comment just as you’re stepping into his apartment and the door closes behind you, hearing the mechanism of the locks for it after.

Jesus Christ, what were you doing?

[wiltking]

ok - i had to go back and consult my screenshots regarding this post (the doe eyes/pouting quote) to make sure I wasn't wrong in thinking geralt's words were aimed at saskia. and sure enough, i still think that's the case, but i want to take a moment to dissect the conversation further. the whole thing is as follows:

geralt: can you tell me what'll happen to iorveth now?

saskia: let's be honest - he's a terrorist. i'll not lie about him nor whitewash his deeds. he must earn respect on his own, and perhaps, a few generations on, humans will forget.

first - i was surprised to have the option to outright ask about iorveth. yes they're friends, but i didn't think geralt would directly raise this line of questioning, especially after the direction it takes. he knows enough to worry (or at the very least care) about iorveth's safety and saskia's ability to guarantee it now that she has her pontar valley (thanks to geralt and iorveth's combined efforts). her response is sobering, but equally surprising given that recent events weren't enough for iorveth to earn her respect, or gratitude, or solidarity especially when we consider how geralt has known him for a far shorter time and has gained (seemingly) more affection and understanding for him in that time.

it's also telling that saskia thinks geralt would be on the same page as her. not to mention her implication that iorveth's only chance at redemption will come once his actions have faded into obscurity with time. as if saying, come on, we don't have to pretend anymore that iorveth has any moral standing. let's be honest.

geralt: did you intend just to use him?

saskia: geralt, iorveth has killed more humans thank you've eaten chickens. he's not one to be used - it's not that simple. he came to believe in me and knew from the start what we were fighting for. he made a choice.

not one to be deterred, geralt doesn't dispute her claims but rather questions saskia's character, accusing her of using iorveth. but saskia's response is interesting for her acknowledgement of iorveth's agency in the matter. as if she's saying he was aware of his disadvantage from the beginning, and that his feelings (?) for her were always involved, and both knew that they would lead nowhere. it was his choice to fight for her, to put everything on the line for her cause, despite knowing full well that his feelings were one sided.

geralt: sure you don't know what i'm talking about? the baby doe eyes, that intense, misty gaze, the pouting?

saskia: we shared a cause, fought side by side...

again, geralt doesn't relent. he continues to ask if saskia really wasn't purposefully playing up her looks to get iorveth into her hands. he isn't the type to easily fall for a human after all (or someone he thinks is human), much less work with one. even she must know that. she says herself that iorveth isn't one to be used, that he's a terror to all humans. an outright 'terrorist'. she later goes so far as to say the scoia'tael will be welcome in the free pontar valley. but iorveth himself? well.... (let's be honest, geralt.)

so geralt's insistence of her being at fault makes sense from his perspective. how else could she have convinced someone like iorveth to so thoroughly do her bidding? and her answers do start to fall apart when she doesn't deny playing up her doe eyes, her pouting. or maybe saskia genuinely doesn't think she did anything wrong. given her nature, i'm almost more inclined to believe her ignorance.

but if all this is true, if saskia truly didn't mean to use iorveth's personal feelings and devotion for her own gains, then geralt's decision to go to bat for iorveth (for this perceived wronging, for iorveth's heart) reveals more of geralt's affection for the elf than any intentions saskia might have had. like, sure, maybe geralt won't defend iorveth's actions. his past. his bloodshed. his morals. but he will defend iorveth's heart. on principle. by his own initiative. after all they've been through together. and that's the main takeaway of this all.

geralt: iorveth did and would do anything for you. question is - what're you prepared to do for him?

the one question i'm left with is this: what are you prepared to do for iorveth, geralt?

[pussynibbler69]

!! Teen! Eric Cartman x gn!! best friend! Reader !!

"Early wake up call..."

Idk i don't have any requests and I'm now writing random shit for my entertainment

Tw// mention of partying, drugs/boos, and (playful 😇) death threats

Lovely, calm, and graceful Saturday morning for none other than [Name] [Last Name].

That's what you would think, right? With the delicate stray light forms falling in between the cracks of your curtains, the small noticeable chirping birds resting outside your window. The start of your summer holiday, the first day where you can happily sleep in and you know there's more days to come like that.

The faint smell of coffee was swift in the air, as well as freshly baked goods from a bakery not so far by. In the small mountain town of South Park, Colorado. Your mother must have gotten them on her small trip out, and although you were tempted, you didn't want to leave the soft safe restraints of your comforters. Not for anything, and not for anyone.

Well, that was what you were certainly planning.

You're now more aware of the chirping birds behind the blaring song of Poker Face by Lady Gaga, which was recconisingly your ring tone. You stare at your ceiling for a moment, dazed, the warm soft covers making your skin slightly sweaty as you have been tangled in sheets all night. Who chose that song as a ring tone?

Certainly not you, so it must be the second most trusted person with your phone. Eric Cartman. The shorter, round shaped boy with a voice breaking complexion. He was chestnut hair messily cut into a mullet, by yours truly, that somewhat suited his disliked American white-man problematic persona. But even with that he's a bit gay.

You'll forever remember things that you want to forget, relating to that subject. Let's hope he's a bit different now, but you can never really tell.

He sounded like Alvin from Alvin and the chipmunks at the ripe age of ten, but now of that being a couple years ago he sounds more like Alvin's rejected cousin thats slightly deformed and going though puberty.

Yeah, maybe thats about right.

Maybe if you don't pick up he'll go away? You seriously consider, not moving from the space on your bed. You met him when you were younger, more like when you were both in diapers, as you're mothers were both very close in school years. Both single push over mothers, and yes you are ashamed of how you treated yours of when you were younger.

But Cartman hadn't really changed much. He'd still whine in a high pitched voice to get what he wants, while in recent years you've been soft spoken and more willing to listen to your mother. At ten years old though you couldn't see a difference in you and Cartman's behavior, you were like two peas in a pod.

And not in a good way.

But ignoring your faults, because it's embarrassing to remember, you let Lady Gaga ring out in your room. She sang a bit longer, but finally died out at some point while you had spaced of. It's silent for a moment, and you rest your eyes even so you weren't all that tired anymore, but there's a disruption in the quiet air.

It's Lady Gaga. And because you were on your side, facing your window and away from the bedside table and your phone, it's like she's looming over your shoulder practically begging the phone to be picked up. You sigh, irritatbly, struggling to get up in a sitting position. You quickly unplug the phone from the charger and press the green button.

You hold it up to your ear, just listening to any sound that passed through from the end. Theres voices immediately, but you're confused on topic of conversation. "—Kahl, you friggin' asshole, that's none of your business—" "What." You dismiss the confusion and his conversation, wanting to get the point of the call.

"[NAME]! YOU FINALLY PICKED UP YOU BITCH, STOP IGNORING ME!!" it was unbelievable how he quickly changed the subject from who he was talking to, to you. The tone of voice and everything— you're flattered that he changed it that fast to talk to little ol' you. Dispute your fake internal flatter, you face stayed blank.

"What do you want." You slightly curse, not even scared about pissing him off. It's not like he'll grind your parents up into chilli too, because he also knew that you used to act exactly like him in that way. You'll bite him even harder in the ass than he did to you, whether that be literally or you killing him. Ew. You cringe, but you'd take action if it came to it.

You hear him scoff on the other end, shuffling of feet against his flooring surprisingly easy to hear as he made his way from the living room into the kitchen. You can tell that he had gone into the kitchen because of the faint sound of the fridge door opening as he talking to you. "I need your help, and when you do I owe you."

You slightly raise a brow, deadpanning soon after thinking of his definition of a 'owe'. You lean yourself against the headboard of your bed, boredom consuming you slowly but surely. "Yeah—no. Kill yourself." You blow a raspberry down onto the microphone, only now waiting for a reply. He huff and sputters, you can basically see him hesitate on the other side of the phone.

"But— but—" the words seemed to be caught on his tongue, but you practically heard his voice change to a more high pitched squeal like a switch. It's like him complaining to his mum, his pace in voice becomes quicker as his reason started to blur with other words. "But Clyde is having a house party and we want to throw a betteronesothatthey'renotbetterthanusand—"

You outwardly sigh, only just about catching to jist of his sentence through the many years you've known him. You pitch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and middle, furrowing your brows. "Eric, what. I'm not your mum so don't speak to me like that you stupid fat bitch—" "OI I'M NOT FAT—" "You're certainly not skinny babes.."

"Oh yeah? Well let's talk about you." "Excuse me? You look like you look like—" you two continue to bicker over the phone, obviously he leant off his fridge to slightly pace around his kitchen— and whoever he'd been talking to before became silent or out of ear shot of the phone— Kyle. You remember.

Of course you knew of his other friends that he mainly hung out with, but to be honest you're not into their stupid lifestyle. Always getting into stupid shit, unexpected things happening, detetions, enemies (that can be people they don't even know!). Plus, even though he is you're so called "best friend", he is a prick.

"I mean— a party? An alcoholic party? Why would you even want that at our age—" "Don't question, I know you've done worse things then this." It's true, you guess. You two are like partners in crime, and the part will be on the bottom of the list of the worse things you've done. You sigh, already pulling on your sneakers resting by the front door.

God's sake.

"I'll be at yours in five." You grumpily say, over his whining and comments. They turned sickly sweet since a couple minutes ago where he was basically shouting slurs at you through the phone, him trying to sweeten you to his liking. He celebrated on the other end and he said something, but you hung up without an answer.

You pulled on a coat or jacket, ready to open the door before your mother called you from the kitchen. "Hunny?" She said, peering into the hallway in only a few seconds. "Where are you going in your Pajamas, sweetie?" Her voice was soft and kind, but regardless you openly roll your eyes and scowl at her. You're tired and not in the mood, but you reply regardless.

"Seeing Eric, Mum. I'll tell him you said hi." Without a question or a scold she smiled, hand plastered to her chest. "Okay sweetie! Have fun! There's cinnamon rolls and coffee here for when you come back!" She disappeared as soon as she came, leaving you to yourself to leave and close the door. You feel bad again, but your bad behavior surfaces without warning sometimes.

You step out, the winds slightly less cold then usual months as you take an icey breath in. You sigh, annoyed again, stepping further and started the path to his house. It requires no mental energy anymore, it's like your feet mindlessly take you to your destination. What could he want from you? The alcohol? Something else?

You doubt its the alcohol, as him Mum would get it for him without question. Whatever it might be, it has to be stupid, and leaves you dreading the arrival at his door.

[lya-dustin]

All is Bliss

(in the court of Aemma the Great)

Or Aemma Velaryon is forced to marry Aegon to keep them from usurping her and her mother, only the marriage nor the scheme work leading her to consider the only option left: usurping him.

(Aka Aemma x Aemond in an Au inspired by the Great)

Gif by @merlinaddams

@darylandbethfanforever9 @mercedesdecorazon

Rated M: for canon typical things like underage drinking, alcohol abuse, court intrigue, mentions of sex, stillbirths etc🔞

No matter how much they tried, her wedding to Aegon happens.

Perhaps marriage will change him.

Those are the only words mother can say as they dismount and change into more acceptable clothes.

Aemma has known since she was old enough to understand that Aegon was to be her husband to keep the peace.

Not Aemond whom she had been closer to in age and friendship, Aegon simply because he was born first and was mother’s challenger to her place in the succession.

There were many stories about Aegon and all were bad.

He had fathered a bastard on Lord Beesbury’s niece, another one on a girl who’s maidenhead he won at the Street of Silk and reportedly sired the stillborn twins on his sister, who had been married off to Daeron Velaryon at great haste.

She hoped that last one was false, gods know Helaena did not deserve that nor Daeron.

Aegon was a drunk, a lecher, a fool and had no taste for being useful.

But perhaps he won’t be as bad as they say, maybe he is just judged to harshly, Aemma tells herself as she pretends to be happy as they are put into a carriage and smuggled into court like criminals.

She is utterly disappointed upon their first meeting.

To give them a chance to know each other, they are given exactly one orchestrated accidental meeting in the godswood garden.

Septa Teora is to pretend she is reading on a bench, Ser Erryk is to stand there and make sure she doesn’t run for the hills.

“You look shorter in your portraits.” He says as they almost stand on equal height.

Aegon reeks of wine even if he looks well enough to stand.

He is handsome, but there is no desire to it.

They’ve never gotten along, once she decked him for pulling her hair and breaking her dolls and his mother had the fucking audacity to say she brought it on herself.

But that was then, this is now, she tells herself.

“I inherited the Velaryon height, your highness.” Aemma pretends to be demure when all she wants to do is be anything but that.

“And the looks, and the blood I see.” He said thinking it a clever jape.

A clear dig at her brothers being Harwin’s.

“I have been told I have an uncanny resemblance to my late aunt.” Aemma simply nodded.

“Glad to know you have grown into a real princess and stopped being the insolent brat you were six years ago, dear niece. My dear, dear sister really outdid herself, I hope to thank her for giving me such a fine mount.” He said with a wink.

Oh joy, she might have to take up Daemon’s offer to make her a widow the moment the need arises.

“First, third and fourth and even fifth, I wonder where the second went?” Aemma wonders out loud as she perused her grandfather’s private library, hoping to find something to occupy her time before her books arrive later today.

“Over here.” A voice said from behind her. It sounds vaguely familiar, but she cannot put her finger on it.

“Thank you, good ser.” She says turning to take the offered book.

“Neither a knight, nor good, but I will take it as a compliment.” Aemond One Eye says with seemingly bored look.

Same bored look he had when he wanted to look mature at one and ten.

“Thanks anyway, Aemond.” She does something else, gives him the third volume in exchange for the second.

“I did not take you for a girl who likes philosophy, Aemma.” He says and both take a seat on opposite couches.

They used to hide here from Aegon and their family and read on the rug on the floor.

Sometimes Helaena would come, just not as often as Aemond.

Grandfather let them and even introduced them to philosophy.

Something needed if they wish to rule justly, he had said as he asked them to read the first book.

A shame it couldn’t be Aemond she married.

“I enjoy a good novel just as anyone does, but grandfather did say to be good queen I must understand how to rule.” Aemma said kicking her pattens off and stretching out on the couch.

“If only Aegon knew that.” He grumbles thinking she didn’t hear.

If his brother spoke of him like that, then it was worse than she heard.

“I am quite fond of Boethius, I am relieved to know there is at least one person here who reads his works too.” She supplies in hopes of getting him to converse with her.

Only a few hours here and already she feels so lonely.

“There are few us here, the Faith added his works to their lost of condemned books, but they cannot touch father’s library under penalty of death.” He responds, letting her know Queen Alicent the Pious’ reign of terror is still ongoing. “Mother is very adamant on enforcing the High Septon and the Most Devout’s orders in Court.”

And so they spend the next hour.

Catching up on each other, the on goings of the realms, books, Boethius’ The Consolation of Philosophy (of which they were reading in its original High Valyrian) and anything that came to mind until her Septa came looking for her.

“A shame I have to go.” Aemma admits as they part ways in the hall.

If only he had been born first.

The wedding is fine, everything appears to be exactly as it is supposed to.

Aemma dances with her groom, his brothers, her brothers and while he is not completely horrible, Aegon is still Aegon.

If you opened him up, it would not be blood but wine pouring out of him.

He reeks of drink when he kisses her at the Sept, he is a drunken fool by the time the dancing is in full swing.

He fondles servants and noblewomen alike, complains that she is taller than him in her heeled shoes and calls her dull when she and Helaena talk about books with Aemond at some point.

By the time the bedding comes she has drunk more wine than she has ever done in her life.

She isn’t what you would call drunk, but she knows she will be regretting it on the morrow and not remembering a damn thing after this last glass.

But it helps, especially when men with their grubby hands and dirty japes disrobe her and leave her as naked as the morning she was born.

It is Aemond who provides a bit of relief.

“I will carry her, you sots are too drunk to treat your future queen as she deserves.” He says picking her up in his arms with care and looking ahead instead of downwards.

Something she thanks him for as he carries her into the bridal chamber.

He chuckles as he deposits her safely onto a divan by the bed, “You did call me good ser this afternoon, Aemee.”

“I wish it had been you.” She says wanting to kiss him.

“You don’t mean that.” He said pulling away and leaving just as drunk women deliver a naked Aegon to the chamber.

----

Notes: Boethius is a 6th century Roman philosopher who's works were on the list of condemned works in 13th century by the Catholic church. He influeced virtually all medieval philosophy.

[lokescurse]

Hey, your writing is so good. I'm not sure if you write for him but...if you do. Could you some headcanons for Gojo? You seem to be really good at interpreting characters.

Maybe SFW A,F,G,R & O and NSFW A,F, I, P &K. Sorry if thats too much I'm greedy so don't do them all if you don't want.

Aww, that's so sweet! I'll be honest and say that I don't really like Gojo LMAO. BUT what you've said is so nice and really made my day, so I did it just for you. I actually had a pretty good time writing this, too, so thanks for giving me something fun to do, as well. I hope you like what I've put below the cut, and that you forgive me in case some of it is messy. I am writing this at 2am sdjks.

Warnings for: Length, spelling and grammar mistakes, NSFW themes, teasing, foreplay, temperature play, pegging, choking, possible OOC content, and also...possible manga spoilers? Not really but just in case.

These are all gender neutral!

SFW:

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Neither affectionate, nor without affection. Satoru is the kind to drop affection on you when he thinks it would be amusing, but may otherwise be forgetful about it. For instance, he would be the kind to introduce you to his students as his fiance(e) before you've even started dating, but he responds with "of course you do" when you say you love him.

Physically, I would say he probably isn't very affectionate at all, particularly in public. PDA is not his style....unless it's funny. The bit has to be worth it for him to drop his Infinity, after all.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

"Maybe someday", has long been the opinion of marriage that Satoru Gojo has held. He's not in any rush, but that doesn't mean he won't tease you with the idea. "You're so bad at spelling," he'll say, "guess it's a good thing you'll be getting a shorter last name soon."

Overall, though, I don't see him as being one to race towards the altar, so to speak. He may fall in love rather quickly, but he'd rather take his time and make sure you're going to stick around before even considering something more legally binding. After all, he's certainly had loved ones walk away from him before.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Gojo can be gentle, but he often chooses not to be. As I said, he isn't one for PDA or even physical affection to begin with, so a lot of the touching he gives tends to be for levity. He'll sneak up on you and plant a harsh pat on your back. He'll ruin your stretches with a poke to your midsection. He'll tug (lightly) on your hair as you're walking by to get an annoyed sound out of you. Things like that.

As for emotionally, it's mostly comparable. He's more likely to be flippant and even a little rude before anything else. That being said, when you're alone and the stakes are more dire, Satoru is willing to let you in and let you know what you mean to him. Just don't tell anyone, because it's likely he won't either. Not out of embarrassment, but out of a desire to keep the morale up for all the people who look up to him. If people were to find out he was being gentle with you before something big occurred, they'd certainly worry he doubted himself, and he wouldn't want that at all. His strength is their safety, and he doesn't want them to be afraid.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Similar to the above, you'll mostly get glimpses of his more emotional/sentimental side when you're alone with him. Gojo is well-known for his occasional moments of philosophy (ex: "No one can take youth away from the young."), so if you take the time to read into those, you'll definitely learn a lot about him. But, when it comes to deeper, more personal things, Gojo will likely only tell you in private. Or not at all.

There's a reason why no one really knew Gojo, even if everyone knew of him. Don't expect to know the whole story.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Despite the fact that he never fully reveals it, Gojo is deeply sentimental. He remembers everything about everyone. As such, he could never truly pick a favourite moment with you. They all cascade together in a picturesque slideshow of merriment. The times you were angry, the times you hated him, the times you trusted him, the times you were there for him...They all sit in picture frames on the mantle of his memory. It may seem a bit of a cop out answer, but truly, its the collection of all these moments that gives him hope for the future.

NSFW:

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Once the night has come to a close and you've all but spent your energy, Satoru is perhaps the quietest he's ever been. This still isn't silent, mind you, but the conversation dulls to breathy whispers. He's still teasing and taunting you, but it's at a low and easy volume as he traces circles into your skin. Aftercare with him often looks like being huddled together in bed, still bare and limbs intertwined. He tends to be lazy afterwards, but if there's something more you need him to do, he'll relent. You may be teased for it, but it'll get done. As far as he goes, just relaxing after is often all he needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Pardon me for saying so, but I very much don't see Satoru as a top. I see him being very open to positions in which his partner is in charge. As such, I think cowgirl variations are very agreeable to him. He'll take any version, but he will sometimes prefer to see his partner's face, if only so he can be snide about any obvious signs of enjoyment you're giving. It also allows you to wrap your hands around his throat. He's defiant, and he loves for his partner to be the same way.

If you're interested in pegging, or otherwise being the...penetrating party, he's very much open to this as well.~

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's terrible, truly. As mentioned, he's the kind to be bratty and defiant in bed. He may set a romantic scene if he's feeling particularly whimsical, but his sharp tongue will be in harsh contrast all throughout the time. He's fond of being teasing, and he'll find the most wild things to poke fun at. He's also definitely guilty of ruining the moment with jokes and nonsense.

You'll be on top of him, finding your rhythm and getting adjusted, and all will go well until he holds up a hand to stop you. When you ask him what's wrong, he says something like, "Nothing. I just imagined your nipples and belly button as a surprised face and now I'm distracted." Terrible.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As mentioned above, I do see Satoru as being a fan of choking, particularly receiving it. Teasing, both verbally and physically, are also appealing to him, and he's open to both giving and receiving there. He can be very expansive with the types of teasing and foreplay he enjoys. Drag a feather up his torso while he's cuffed to the bed. Draw shapes on him with an ice cube. Pour wax across his back. It doesn't matter what it is, a small, repetitive sensation will drive him mad in the best way over time. He enjoys turning it around back on you just as much, too.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Mixed, I'd say. Satoru can find his groove anywhere, really. A rough session will be very fun for him, and allow him to go all out with his snarky remarks. He'll also enjoy wrestling control back and forth from you throughout.

A slower pace is also enjoyable to him, though you will find he enjoys the slow rounds to be a bit torturous with their foreplay. He'll be very willing to let things drag on just a touch too long. The more frustrated you sound, the better. That being said, you should feel more than free to dish out the exact same treatment on him. It's only fair, after all.

[thefantasticreader]

what I think dating Rosalie and Emmet Cullen would be like

for this What I think dating ... would be like we're going to imagine what it would be like if Rosalie and Emmet had another mate. This is represented by a human mate so enjoy.

-they're already clingy to each other but with you as their human mate it is so much worse, they constantly want to be around you and they aren't sharing for anyone

-Absolutely adore cuddles, they feel more alive when they cuddle you because you feel so warm to them

-they love holding your hand or having some part of you touching them at all times

-Emmet is not really the problem when it comes to being so protective about you, it's more so Rose. She has this thing where she needs to be around you at all times because she doesn't trust you with anyone other than her siblings. She absolutely will murder anyone who looks at you funny, and trust me they won't find the body for weeks

-they rely on open communication so if something is bothering you they want you to trust them to talk about it with them, or if something makes you upset about the relationship they want to make sure you are happy and comfortable

-they def were weirded out at first, especially considering how you were human but once Alice introduced you to them they knew instantly they needed you for themselves

-Rose doesn't like to share unless its with Emmet so she is especially clingy to you, even if you are doing something alone or supposed to be alone

-if you miss school they're both at your house that night to make sure you are safe, or you better let them know that morning otherwise they panic real quickly

-you will always have partners in class, need a group for a project they're at your side instantly

-Rosalie loves giving you little nicknames like butterfly, lily, beautiful, honey or hunny (depends on situation), and even the occasional and more flirtatious darling

-While Rose has more unique names Emmet goes for the classic babe, baby, or even sweetheart but its rare as he likes shorter names for you

-since they can't eat whatever food you want is immediately ordered, craving pasta one night but can't buy it? They have four tubs for you, or they're rushing to the store to buy the ingredients for bonding time

-Speaking of bonding time they love to be around you, and take any moment they can to be with you and just in general do something fun with you

-They will NOT, like don't even think about it, NOT in a million chances let you near the wolves, and whoever they're fighting or when they are fighting you are as far away from this as possible and if you happen to be around a wolf they have murder in their minds for the next 24 hours

-Rosalie loves to do your makeup, boy or girl your sitting through her two hour long session but she makes sure you are comfy before starting and sometimes you might even fall asleep

-they got a bed when you began coming over more often and they love watching movies with you or reading to you or with you in bed, any excuse to be in bed with you ;)

-both are super flirtatious, like constant side notes about how good you look or how amazing you are, its just a lot of compliments or even if theyre in good moods its the "So you doing anything tonight or should I take you to my room?" Which you always tell them you stay there either way

-they get more cautious around you when It comes to anyone who is not their family so they try to keep you out off things but if not you are beside Emmet the entire time because he's strong

-Rosalie drags you to parties with her on the occasion which she sometimes forgets you are human because you often get drunk

-You all had a long conversation about being turned and how they wouldn't do it unless you were ready to be

-once you were turned they made you do anything and everything with you, things like cliff jumping, scuba diving, or just in general fun things you may not have done as a human in fear of your life

-overall they love you a lot though and wouldn't change it for the world.

[crystalelemental]

Okay last thing to keep up on. I finished Volume 5 of MagiRevo.

I like MagiRevo. I think it's fun, Euphyllia is my girl, but it's had some problems. A big one being that it's kinda...slow and dry at times? Like, when we hit a scene that is Euphie and Anis being cute, it's fantastic. When we have a serious character moment, it generally does pretty alright. But those feel like infrequent occurrences, around a mountain of text that is worldbuilding and politics, and while the author creates a cohesive story, they also made a boring one. There's a reason I read the entirety of WataOshi between volumes 3 and 4, and then went like three months before getting to volume 5. Book 4 in particular felt really dry. Barring the one excellent Lainie chapter and a few sporadic scenes (Euphie's coronation, Duke Magenta experiencing a typewriter and going insane), it's almost entirely dry politics talk that does not land.

Book 5, I think, hits a much, much better balance. In part because the big politics stuff is kinda over, now that the next queen is decided. They still dabble a bit in political stuff, but it's (1) much shorter worldbuilding around what the eastern frontier is like, and (2) tied in to Anis' parents and the vaguely understood coup plan from her father's day, which makes it a lot more emotionally salient than the usual explanations. Around this, we get a two pretty fun fights that honestly feel more like character building than just descriptions of what's happening, some incredibly cute scenes of Euphie and Anis, and the dread return of Algard.

Which is, and I cannot believe I'm saying this, the best part. Algard comes back, but is now accompanied by his wolf-girl...friend? Their relationship isn't super clear, but "friend" best encapsulates the present moment. Acryl (like Acryllic, do you get it?) is a pretty interesting character to bring in, both in the sense of an outsider being a good companion for Algard in general, and for the lore she ropes in. There are wolf-people that descend from monsters? There's a whole-ass vampire clan? The vampires try to enslave the wolf-people to fight some unspecified fucked up super monster that seems to be building up as a major boss later? Shit dude, consider me invested. Algard's character is honestly pretty nice here, having essentially let go of the obligations he felt before, and being much more open and honest about what it was he really wanted. His reconciliation with Anis is really heartfelt and I like it a lot. Acryl, by comparison, being a character that hates Anis but for like normal human reasons is kinda refreshing. We've had a lot of "people don't really like Anis" touted in the background, while everyone we meet loves her and is, at worse, kind of a conservative about things and doesn't like her research. But Acryl legitimately just does not like Anis as a person on principle, even as she recognizes Anis isn't a bad person, and I cannot tell you how nice it is to have that. I feel like your main PoV character needs at least someone who just dislikes them.

If there's any major complaint, it's...the usual. Side characters in this story do not get a lot of play. Lainie got one really good chapter, and that led me to hope she and Ilia might get more play, but they're barely around and contribute basically nothing. Tilty doesn't even show up, which is really bothersome to me personally. Gark and Navre are around, but mostly as knights to highlight that yeah, we're trained warriors, who cannot possibly keep up with how strong Euphie and Anis are. Which like. Fine. I just wish they had more to do if they were gonna be here, you know?

This one was really good, though, I tore through it in like three or four hours. Very much enjoyed, excited to see about volume 6 in March.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Good / Bad News

So, as it so often goes, there is good news, and there is bad news.

The good news first, since it’s shorter, honestly. All manner of email today about getting the last bits of laptop set-up done for my starting to work from home. As predicted, we’re aiming for me to start WFH shifts on 4th October, after my week off. This means the aim is to settle the last little niggling bits by the end of the week so I can take the laptop home on Friday. This is good news.

This is also slightly bad news. Not that I don’t want to work from home. It’s just that working from home will make it even easier for Temp and Goblin to leave the difficult typing to me in future. And let me tell you, after what I dealt with today, it’s bad enough already.

We’ve had people coming in to do reporting on weekends and bank holidays, I think I said. They even did that this week - as in, the day before and the day of QE2′s funeral. (Yeah, some people were still working that day. It was a thing, and makes the number of people who had appointments and procedures cancelled that day even more horrific than it already was.) I know this because when I got in, there were still bits of typing left from 18th and 19th of September. What really gets to me is the following:

Most of the reports were long as hell - most around the five minute mark, a few pushing towards the ten-minute mark

The ones that weren’t were dictated by people who are annoying to type for (five reports from a newbie who tends to repeat herself unnecessarily, all dated 18th)

Goblin wasn’t in on the bank holiday, but Temp sure as hell was, and judging by the time stamps, she deliberately picked out anything short and not too annoying over the weekend, leaving the long and/or annoying ones until the work week proper. Which is great when you consider that half of those request forms were marked “URGENT”

Temp and Goblin both started typing today’s stuff when they got in - again, leaving me to handle all the long and/or annoying stuff from the weekend

Thing is, Temp said not two weeks ago how unfair it was to expect anyone to do too many of the long fiddly ones at once. Yet she pulls this. So I guess when she says it’s unfair to expect ‘anyone’ to do too many of those, ‘anyone’ only means her. Because I follow the established office protocol and pull them out of the queue in date order, so that means I get big clumps of the ones she ignores, which means I get all the long fiddly ones at once.

I thought about calling her on it today, but there was never an opportune moment. I’m not even sure how to bring this up, if I’m honest. The last time I tried, she got snitty at me and that got her in trouble with Scruffman. I’ll see what the typing looks like tomorrow, I think. But if this is what’s going to happen every weekend, I’m going to get peeved. Well. More peeved.

Anyway, I guess I should just think of it this way: my being in the office doesn’t stop them from dumping the unwanted typing on my head, so not being in the office can’t possibly make things that much worse. But one of these days, I may well ask Scruffman to check a few time stamps and dictation lengths. Because seriously, Temp in particular is taking advantage of me at this point. I wouldn’t even mind so much if it wasn’t problematic from a pain perspective. Thing is, it is - a lot of moving my foot around the foot pedal to double-check things, a lot of scrolling as a lot of the ones to do the long dictations tend to skip around in terms of the report format, and of course the long period of typing uninterrupted by anything but stamping and scrolling.

I get they don’t like the longer bits of typing. They’re a pain in the arse, as are the people who dictate them. That shouldn’t mean dumping it all on me.

Still, at least work from home is happening, and I booked my Covid booster for tomorrow, so there you have it. Good news, and bad news. And I have hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows.

[istratasphere]

Profit's Journal, Entry One

XXXX

I’ve never been one for writing down my thoughts in the past, I never really saw the point of it before if I’m being honest. Yet today! Today! I swear if I don’t write down what happened today I will go completely and utterly mad!!!

I was on the road to Duskwood since the Midnight Bazaar is coming up, a salespersons dream in every sense of the word, I mean truly just the most naive and easily conned people show up there every year and practically throw their money into my coin purse with reckless abandon - I’m getting very off track. Regardless! I was well on my way when I noticed a pool of blood! Blood! On the side of the path! I noticed that there was a trail of it leading off into the forest and I let my curiosity get the better of me, I thought perhaps some manner of beast had been attacked on the road, and maybe if it had perished I could find something on it worth selling. Those fools at the Bazaar will buy anything if you talk it up enough, especially if you claim it has magical properties, they eat that sort of thing up - Anyway! I thought it could���ve been a creature.

Well, I can say right now that wasn’t the case at all! What do I find but a fellow tiefling unconscious and just- just bleeding out on the ground!? It shocked me to my core, truly it did! I was just frantic in the moment, thankfully I have the wits to keep healing potions on hand and I am sure that had I not, he would have surely perished there! He did not wake then so I decided to stay by his side until I could be sure he was well. It seemed the right thing to do after all but Oh, where to start? From the moment I was able to get a proper look at him, it was as if Cupid’s arrow had struck my heart.

There was just so much to take in with him, it’s rare enough to see my kind around these parts but I had truly never seen anyone like him before. He was radiant, just radiant in every sense of the word. The warmth of the sun’s rays was present in his pigmentation, a soft yellow that I could easily associate with the flower fields that surrounded my hometown in the spring season. His hair reflected a more fiery warmth, a reddish-gold that shone in the light that peeked through the foliage of the trees around us. Some of his features intrigued me greatly, fangs, antlers, and a split tail were all so unusual to me but only endeared him to me further. His right antler was broken, jagged and noticeably shorter compared to the left. A long, deep scar slashed down the right side of his face as well, I couldn’t help but wince at the sight of it imagining how painful it must've been to receive it. Still, it did nothing to detract from his appearance in my eyes. As I observed him further I finally noticed his leg… or lack thereof, instead of a right leg he appeared to have some sort of damaged prosthetic. I couldn’t help but wonder if all these injuries occurred at one time or just that he was terribly, terribly unlucky on his right. I would’ve pondered that further if given the chance but before I could he finally awoke.

Oh, my heart! Such beautiful eyes! Eyes of a finer gold than that which adorned my horns, in that moment my breath escaped me completely and I could only stare, utterly speechless. He spoke first, pulling me back to the moment at hand. He was rather defensive and more than a bit panicked as he asked what had happened so I did my best to elaborate on the situation in which I discovered him and reassure him all in the same breath. It seemed to work as far as I could tell, he let himself be at ease in my presence which I consider a great success. I introduced myself to him properly only to elicit a soft, rasping laugh from him, a laugh just as beautiful as everything else about him). My confusion must’ve been apparent because he was quick to introduce himself in turn. The humour became apparent to me quickly, our names so strangely well aligned. A tiefling named Profit and a tiefling named Coin, what are the odds of that truly?

I questioned him, Coin, on the nature of his situation, how he managed to end up bleeding out amongst the foliage yet he could provide me no answer. He told me his memory had lapsed in regards to what had happened prior to waking in my presence, he seemed genuine enough and I didn’t want to barrage him with questions so soon after such an event. I asked him where he was headed and sure enough, he was making the journey to Duskwood as well. To me, this seemed like a true act of fate so I did what any sensible person would and asked if I could accompany him seeing as we were headed the same way. I wish I could’ve known what he was thinking in the moments of silence that followed, I worried that I had overstepped but that fear was quickly put to rest once he accepted. 

We decided to make camp here since it had gotten rather late and neither of us were particularly keen to travel in the night. He went to sleep almost immediately after we settled properly, understandable considering what had happened. Now that I’ve properly gotten all of this out of my system I know that I can finally rest as well. I feel as though I’ll have a great deal more to write about in future, especially in regards to my new companion.

[haruhey]

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

Established Relationship Fluff | Smut

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

the request:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

Oh.

Yeah, you get why he was hesitating now.

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

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

“And who exactly did you hear that from?”

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

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

“It matter?”

So nobody, probably.

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that feel better?”

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

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

“You’re too damn good to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What- what are you doing?”

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

“What’s it look like ‘m doin’?”

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

“D-Daryl- what would your girl say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, that fucking prick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-no, wait- I gotta-“

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

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

You don’t need to keep-

You can just-

I can-

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

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

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

“I thought you were tired.”

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

“Never too tired for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

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

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

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

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

“‘S alright. It felt good.”

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

“Anythin’ ya do feels good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut- shut up.”

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

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

“Then- then do better, Daryl.”

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

Daryl’s so fucking happy you bite back.

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

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

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

“Are you g-gonna take it up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here, let me- I’ll help ya wash up.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir!”

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

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

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

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

Hopefully.

“You coming?”

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

“Thank you.”

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

“For lettin’ me, uh, do that.”

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

“I’m glad you’re home.”

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

“Glad ‘m home too.”

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

It was good to be back.

Back to a home he had made with you.

──── ⋙ 

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

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stay

jack grealish x reader

part 1 / part 2 (this is the final part) lmao the idea for this came in my dream last night :)

jack sees the way you fit with his family and poses a big question

“Goals are much taller than I thought they were, you know.” You hum, merely a few paces in front of Jack as he watches you with sparkling eyes. “Yeah?” he asks in wonder. His head is tilted as he admires you looking up above your head, something clearly weighing on your mind before you make the decision to stretch your hands up high above your head and jump. Your fingers don’t even brush the crossbar. “Yeah,” you nod conclusively with a laugh.

“I remember reading that Donnarumma is like near enough 6”5, he’d easily outdo me.” You state casually with a shrug. Jack almost flinches at the mention of the name that stole their euro win. “Sorry, too soon?” You grimace. He nods slightly, but laughs anyway and steps closer to you so he’s standing only a few steps away in front of where you stand on the goal line, looking from side to side. “Mendy too; he’s just short of six five, not far off Neuer. Big guys makes, sense they’re in there.” You shrug, waving your arms up and down around you.

Jack wears a subconscious smile as he watches you soak it in for the first time. His eyes are littered with a funny mix of adoration and confusion. How and why you knew specific height measurements for national and club goal keepers was beyond him, really, but it was so strangely endearing. You just seem to have an abundance of knowledge of random little things than are pretty niche topics and rarely come into conversation. It’s all part of that innate desire to always be learning. He could almost see your mind ticking in your head for the entire time you were working here, learning from the head doctors and lead physio’s, learning from the team about what helped them the most, learning from the gaffer and the coaching team all about the ins and outs of the game while standing on the sidelines watching them train or just casually sitting eating dinner with Gareth like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were a learner, taking onboard more information over course of the course of this euro campaign than Jack thinks he’s probably ever taken on in his life.

You’re clever and you remember tiny little details and Jack just loves it.

“Alright, alright,” he nods, letting you know you have credit where it’s due as he holds his hands out in front of him. “What about Pickers?” He asks, folding his arms across his chest while smiling at you proudly. He doesn’t actually know how tall Jordan was, but by the look on your face he can tell that certainly you do.

“He just makes six foot, actually considered on the shorter side but gains points because he moves a lot faster than the bigger guys.” You explain, walking along the goal line heel to toe as you speak. Jack wears one of those stupidly large grins as he moves from the penalty spot to walk over and meet you at the other goalpost. “And where did you learn so much about goal keepers, eh?” He teases, eyes playfully narrowing with a smirk as you shrug your shoulders beneath that huge puffer jacket. “Curiosity.” You retort, standing on your tip toes to peck his lips sweetly before you brush past him to head for the tunnel.

Jack stands a little love struck for a moment before he turns on his heel and jogs to catch up with you.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” He banters with a cheeky grin as he snakes his arm around your waist to pull you into his side. You bob your head from side to side with a disagreeing hum. “Ahhh, but satisfaction brought it back.”

“You what?” Jack chortles, “Nah, you’ve just made that up!”

“No i didn’t.” You protest, letting him lead you up the stairs towards where the families were all gathered. “It’s the end of the phrase.” You insist. Jack shakes his head. “Nahhh,” he laughs, “Mum!” He calls, waving up to the woman in the stands a few rows from where you were.

Your heart leaps up into your throat, fear planting itself deep down into your bones, feeling your hands stand to tremble from more than just the cold as your back starts to sweat despite the chill of the evening because he's just called his mother's attention. The same woman who had probably seen him kissing you down on the field not ten minutes go.

There's a complete uncertainty in your mind as to what she will think of you. You're meant to be a professional, but what kind of professional ends up getting with a client?

"Hello love," she greets with a beam. "I'm Ka-"

"Sure that phrase curiosity kills the cat doesn't have anything else to it!" Jack cuts her off quickly, much to her clear dismay in the frown she shoots him as she shakes her head. "First of all, yes it does. Satisfaction brought it back and secondly, Jack, thank you for introducing me to your girlfriend." Her tone is evidently sarcastic, but does make Jack blush a little either from being wrong or from being scolded by his mum right in front of you.

"Sorry," he mumbles, rubbing the back of her neck bashfully. "This is (y/n). She's very smart, as you can see she's very pretty and she's an expert in knowing goalkeepers heights." He states proudly.

That made it your turn to blush furiously, wanting to hide your face inside the puffer jacket that he had given to you fifteen minutes ago. "I'm really not an expert," you insist, but his dad's eyes have already lit up from behind his mum. You know they're a family of football fans, Jack talks about it all the time. "It just interested me, that's a-"

"Kasper Scmeichel." His dad bursts exitedly, earning a thwack from Karen. "Kevin!" She hisses, but you've already been roped in with his enthusiasm. "Six foot two!"

"Ederson?" He challenges.

"Easy. Also six two." You retort, smirking slightly. Jack's brother appears behind his dad, "De Gea?"

"Six four. Come on, test me." You scoff, egging them on.

"Allison!"

"Six three."

"Leno?" They're starting to sound apprehensive.

"Six foot three again." You shrug, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

"Martinez?"

"Him I don't know-"

"Ah-Ha!" Kevin exlaims, laughing happily until you hold up your hand in protest, "In feet! I don't know it in feet! He's one meter ninety five." You smile proudly. The two Grealish men laugh, but the one who stands beside you makes no noise at all. Karen is looking at him, smiling softly and suddenly all eyes turn to Jack.

When yours finally do, you realise he's looking at you. His eyes are twinkling with something you can't quite place, but everybody else knows is complete and utter love. Pure, whole and unadulterated love. It's amazement, adoration. The poor man is wonder struck. You've known his family for all of five minutes and you already get on with them like a house on fire, ready and willing to take on their games and engage with them like you've known them for all of your life. You get excited with them, you don't look even a smidgen out of place with them and Jack can tell right off the bat how much they jut adore you.

He can't seem to take his eyes off of you, can't seem to even take a moment to to set his eyes on anyone else. You've got this cloud of beauty around you like a haze that he can't see any other people through. Everybody else is blurry, eve body else fades away. His lips harbour one of those lopsided, lovestruck grins that he couldn't wipe from his face if his life depended on it an all he wants to do right now is kiss you.

So he does.

Jack leans forward before you can even ask what he's doing and he captures you in a kiss with lips that move in perfect time. It's not as fiery as the one have planted on you earlier. This one has far more depth and reads much more into how much he loves you. You could tell just by that kiss and you hope he can feel the same through you.

At some point, probably quite quickly, his parents move to avoid awkwardness and Jack eventually and begrudgingly removes his lips from yours, but he can't move his face far from yours for fear of missing the warmth and happiness that your proximity brings to him. He can't help but smile at you again in that very hazy 'I'm wholeheartedly in love with you' kind of way that genuinely makes you feel fully weak at the knees.

"Stay." He says softly, so quiet that it's a sound only you have the privilege of hearing. You tilt your head in question, eyebrows slightly furrowed in thought as you grimace. In all honesty, you didn't want to think about what had to happen at the end of this contract. You didn't necessarily have anywhere to go, you're a free agent, but there's already been emails in your inbox asking if you would like to join this team, that team and other athletes before you had even finished with the England national team. There was the expectation that you would be going back to the job that let you come here in the first place, but really you had put off thinking about it so you didn't have to consider the idea of what you had with Jack simply being a summer love that has to come to a close like a book with the last pages missing; always left to wonder what could've been if those pages were to exist as they should have. "What?"

His tongue pokes out to lick his lips, running a hand through his wet hair as he lets out a sharp breath. "Stay." He repeats, "Because I know everywhere wants you and everybody loves you. You could go anywhere and do anything, but I love you. I love you and I will never stop loving you, so I'm asking you - begging actually, and I will get down on my knees - for you to stay. Please."

The way his eyes search your face, begging you to meet his eyes unit you finally do very nearly breaks you. There's so many opportunities that have been offered to you and a great deal of them are not in England. "Jack, I really-"

"I. Love. You." He repeats emphatically. "And if you can say you don't love me too then I'll drop it, because I love you in the stupidest way ever because I love you, but if here isn't where you're happy and if I can't make you happy then I don't want you to stay because I want you but I not as much as I want you to be happy and I've never felt anything like before so-so-so..." He chokes, his words rambled and rushing him into losing his breath as his heart hammers violently in his chest, aching with each beat in which he thinks he may have to live without you.

"Jack?" You say firmly, eyes a little watery. He looks back up at you from the floor. "Can you just kiss me again?"

His eyes light up, something like a teary laugh parting his dry lips as he sees you beaming at him. "Yeah," he nods, "Yeah, I can."

He swoops back in again, capturing your lips with cheers echoing behind you both this time. Cheers from his teammates and his family and their families all at once. Parents covering their kids eyes playfully and both Jack's parents really trying to hold back tears because they know that you are it for him. You're the one and he is going to fight tooth and nail to be with you for the rest of his life. You're his one and he is yours.

"So you're staying right?" He breaks the kiss for a moment, searching for his final reassurance. You giggle against him, nodding. "I wanna be wherever you are because I love you too."

Jack can't contain his big silly grin before he goes in for one more kiss. His body stops short just before your lips connect with his as a quick shout grabs both of your attention.

"David Marshall!" Kevin had shouted, hands cupped over his mouth, clearly having suddenly though of one more name to test your height related goal keeper knowledge. "Good one!" You yell back, "You got me." You turn back to Jack, hearing his dad and brother whooping and cheering in elation for having won. Jack pulls his head back before you get to kiss him again, cheeks tugged up in an ear to ear grin. "You let him win, didn't you?" He muses, stifling his laughter as you nod.

"Course. Big Marshy; six foot three."

The youngest Grealish man responds with a kiss through your giggles and a feeling in his heart that his world is finally complete.

[scaralove]

Oh my god?! A genshin writer who writes for top readers and not characters?? A dream come true... Now, for a request I was thinking about... cockwarming diluc, childe, albedo and kaeya but instead of them doing work, y/n does paperwork instead. Occasionally moving around to grab certain items off her desk causing the boys to become needy. And when they try to move she tsks at them an tells them they have to wait 👀? Until they become a distraction and she finally punishes them?

(of course -- i wasn't really sure how best to write this, so i settled for shorter scenarios for each, but if you'd prefer a different format (i.e. headcanons, a more formally written fic for each, etc) feel free to shoot me a dm and i'll get that sorted asap <3)

diluc, albedo, childe, and kaeya cockwarming scenarios;;

warnings: pegging (diluc, childe), vaginal sex, edging, restraint using hands

DILUC -

when you ask diluc to accompany you to acting grand master jean's office to take care of built-up paperwork as she takes a break, the last thing you had expected was for him to quietly ask if you could cockwarm him as you work. naturally, you agree; his cock is wonderfully big, providing just enough stretch to leave you feeling full and satisfied. your choice, however, does prove to have its flaws when you feel diluc letting out quiet moans beneath you, particularly whenever you lean across the desk to pick up another file or dip your quill into the inkwell. and then you feel him attempt to shift inside you, claiming that he was just readjusting in his seat. so when you turn around, arching a brow and telling him to, for the love of barbatos, sit still, he lets out a resistant whine. and when he sounds so needy, so pathetic, you can't help but pity him, pushing him forward over jean's desk and moving the papers to the side. let's just hope she doesn't notice the wrinkled papers or the hot, heady smell in her office upon returning, hm?

ALBEDO -

though willing to complete albedo's remaining data reports, you aren't willing to allow him to sit back, relax, and do nothing (as much as he may be deserving of it), which is how you end up sitting on his lap, wrapped around his cock as you slowly and methodically work through his remaining notes, editing as needed. and considering dragonspine's less than forgiving climate, and how damn skimpy his clothing is, it isn't before long that he begins moving, attempting to grind up into you under the guise of being cold. albedo wants warming up? you can handle that. let's hope that he doesn't mind you turning around and taking him there and then on his chair, your hips slamming against his until you both cum, quivering as your releases drip onto your thighs. and it's only when you slump against him, exhausted, that you remember the abandoned reports and paperwork - sucrose won't mind finishing that up, right? ... right?

CHILDE -

technically, both of you have overdue paperwork, and technically, the majority of it is tartaglia's, but you still manage to find yourself splayed across his lap as if it were made for you, clenching around his cock as he does nothing. it's ironic, really, that one of the eleven fatui harbingers manages to get away with fulfilling next to none of his responsibilites, but you suppose you can let it slide - until he begins nipping at the back of your neck, dragging his hips with every movement. and knowing tartaglia, knowing his willingness to fuck with you at any given moment, this absolutely isn't coincidental; but if tartaglia wants to play dirty, you can give him dirty. so it's a rather nice change to see his cocky expression shift to one of confusion when you pull his hands away, pressing his wrists together with your own fingers as you take him from behind over your own paperwork. this is what you wanted, ajax; let's not get bitter now <3

KAEYA -

much like tartaglia, the knights of favonius' very own calvary captain seems to possess a rather strong dislike for paperwork -- that is, until you offer to sit on his cock whilst doing it. and suddenly he becomes fervently invested, scribbling away and signing papers as if he wasn't on the verge of throwing a tantrum mere minutes ago. and it does seem to work, at least until he gets the idea of thrusting up into you every few moments, laughing idly as you shoot him glares of distaste over your shoulder. but his attitude is short-lived, as you decide instead to edge him until he can barely write, bouncing up and down on his cock until he's close, and then conveniently pulling away just in time so that you can grab something or other from the supply closet on the other side of the hall, leaving him twitching and whining and likely seething under his breath, at least a little.

[rereading this, im realising that this contained far less of the initial request right up until kaeya's segment, but i hope this was okay regardless <33]