#listen both of these quotes make me tear up all the time

[mcondance]

bubble pop electric ｡𖦹° spencer reid

18+ backseat sex duhhhh, afab!reader but no terms like ‘girl,’ just female anatomy, spencer’s fingers make an appearance again wowww, reader is in his lap, 1 direct hozier quote sue me, i’m still working on my writing style which isn’t important i just wanted to note that. you can listen to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani if you wanna feel the vibes, a bit unfinished i guess but i didn’t know where else to take it

tonight i’m gonna give you all my love in the backseat

the shuffling of clothes is almost the loudest thing in the car, only beat out by you and spencer’s heavy breathing and pounding hearts.

your whines and moans slip straight into his mouth— the two of you seem to have forgotten what it even means to separate from the other. you give him perfect notes like he’s playing you from the inside out. your kisses are all sloppy, unfocused and focused at the same time, spit-swapping between the two of you, his groans vibrating in his chest and into your mouth.

he curls his fingers up to kiss that spot inside you so deliberately your mind blanks, and you’re conflicted on what to focus on. his lips, or his fingers, or his sounds, or all of it at once.

yeah, all of it at once sounds great.

“you’re so pretty,” he confesses after one kiss and before another. he pauses for a second, to look. you’re so beautiful above him. the white light of the street lamps shines in through the car windows and illuminates your skin. you glow obscenely beautifully, so beautiful his brown eyes get glossy in awe.

he kisses you again, and you kiss him back like you’re begging for it. you’re always begging for it, always wanting to be wrapped up in his lips and sliding your tongue against his all messy.

you think you know insanity, that you’re as fucked as you can be right now, but that’s until through one loud pass and another you pick up the sound of the slipping and sliding of his fingers. your cunt sings out into the car and he breaks the kiss to shoot his eyes down between your legs, watching wide-eyed the lewd display you two have created.

how lewd it is.

he breathes raggedly, all keyed up. he can feel his blood boiling hot with how turned on he is.

it doesn’t take long for him to slip his fingers out of you and for the both of you to fumble with your buttons and clothes and zippers.

spencer’s nothing if not disgusting— he can’t help but rub his cock through your wetness, pupils dilating even bigger as he watches you cover him in sticky slick. its heavenly and horribly filthy all at the same time, how he taps it against your clit, softly, huffing out a laugh when you jump a little above him. the whine that leaks out of your throat is met with a hum of his own, a little sound of admiration.

spencer laughs when he sinks in. your whine is so melodic he finally tears his eyes from your cunt to your face, and god, he’s so fucking glad he did. your eyebrows are turned down, nose scrunched and lips pressed together. your eyes, hazy as they lock with his.

looking up at you is how he wants to fuck you always (at least, until he fucks you another way, it always changes). his hands find your waist and they dig in a little, slowly guiding you on his cock.

fuck.

a groan from spencer’s slack lips is what breaks the hanging silence in the car. the hypnosis that grips you both is shattered and his honest sound makes the heart between your legs pound and jump and you bring hips down on him just a little harder.

“oh my god,” he moans into your chest, his cheek rubbing against your shirt. “shit.” he’s rarely ever reduced to expletives to express himself, but when his hands are digging into your waist and you’re grinding on his lap like sin, he can’t find anything else to say.

you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and pull him, desperately, closer. lines have faded and been crossed and fucking in the backseat of a car shouldn’t feel this soft, but it does. your soft whines and moans and his earnest groans smooth out the rough edges of the circumstance, and leave sweetness in their wake. but its still lewd. it’s still sensual. he’s still fucking up into you, the sound of you two rubbing against each other still swirls in the car, he’s still cursing against your chest.

exhilaration flows through you. you and spencer never take anything too serious, especially with each other, and to be pulled over in his backseat, fogging up the windows and probably making the car shake, is what you and spencer do. it’s on-brand; of course you’d get so turned on you’d have no choice but to take it to the backseat.

it’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened, though. and it’ll happen again.

[churipu]

Hi! ☺️ First and foremost, I hope you're doing well. Also, I just recently found your page and I love your writing!

I really liked your post on the super sensitive reader with the jjk men. Can I get headcanons of the jjk men with reader who is very stoic and a little emotionally constipated? Like they have never seen reader cry ever while in their relationship together, but then reader ends up having a hard week and ends up crying from frustration.

jjk men & their emotionally constipated partner

featuring. shiu kong, itadori yuuji, todo aoi, geto suguru x reader

warnings. cursing and jjk men being sweet and soft to their partner <;33

note. hi anon! i'm doing great, hbu love? thank you for liking my works, you don't know how much that means to me, i hope you have a great day! and thank you for requesting, i find this request very interesting <33 also, thank you guys for the big amount of support i've been receiving for the last two days, can you imagine i gained like 140+ followers in that matter of time? i'm going to start violently sobbing istg. anw, i hope u sexies enjoy this <33

SHIU KONG. shiu loves you a lot, even if you struggle in showing the love back to him, he knows you love him a lot. shiu would receive random messages (mostly a picture of something and then you tell him that it reminded you of him, probably deemed as your love language now). i feel like shiu is partly happy that you don't take things into the heart - but at times he'd be very worried about you. you never cry, you almost never get angry at him even if he did something wrong (you'd just tell him it's nothing and you weren't mad, but he sometimes think it's because you didn't want to engage yourself in arguments), and hell, he barely sees you smile at all.

shiu has heard you tell stories about your new work place, which you quote unquote as toxic. and you've been in the company for no longer than three months, but the stories about your very annoying co-worker and your boss never stops. he swore that the topic of your work place was the only thing that could get you riled up.

i feel like shiu would be the type of boyfriend who would tell you to stop working because he's financially stable enough to provide for you, but you decline telling him that you didn't want to live off of him.

shiu didn't force you to stop or quit your job though, he'd be glad to listen to you talk about your days at work.

"y/n? you're ho— darling, what happened?" he saw the solemn look on your face and realized that something must have happened (yet again) at your work place, he dropped the cigar that was lodged in between his lips and immediately approached you.

you shook your head, inhaling sharply before kicking off your shoes, "work, of course."

"is it your boss? or that same co-worker again?" shiu knew that it was either your boss or this one co-worker who doesn't seem to enjoy your presence in the office.

"both." you sat down on the couch, throwing your head back in exhaustion (you were about to cry and the only way to stop your tears from coming out was to just force it back in with your head back), "i'm getting my paycheck reduced this month."

shiu took a seat next to you, "why?"

"i was blamed for something my co-worker did, this is so unfair," your voice cracked a little and shiu pulled you into a hug, you choked out a sob, "this is so unfair," you muttered out, your pent out anger and disappointment finally seeping out in a form of tears.

"hey, shh..." he soothes you, pulling back to see your tearful eyes. he grazed over your cheek to wipe the droplets away, "let me take care of them, yeah?"

you shook your head, "don't have to, i don't want to make this into a bigger mess."

shiu planted a kiss on your forehead, "don't worry about it darling, you trust me, don't you?"

"yes."

shiu had a "talk" with your boss and your co-worker the very next day and your co-worker ended up resigning right after, and your boss, well they never bothered you anymore (and you're getting an extra paycheck for the next half a year).

ITADORI YUUJI. people always wonder how you and itadori ended up with each other. him being this ray of sunshine, and you were like the moon. but he didn't care about what everyone says, he loves you — and that's what matter, right?

wrong. don't think that you didn't notice the enormous shit talking about you behind your back, about how you probably bribed itadori into dating you and what not. usually, you'd shove all those down the drain and forget about it.

but for some reason, you couldn't help but to rethink about what they said. how itadori isn't too fit for you, or how you don't deserve him at all. the only thing that managed to trigger you was how somebody said that itadori deserves someone more "emotionally available" for him, and that person isn't you.

you never liked being emotionally constipated, people always talk about you behind your back, saying how you're so distant and that being the reason you don't have any friends. you keep telling yourself that you're used to it when it comes to you, but when it comes to itadori and your relationship — you feel helpless.

"y/n? are you okay?"

you looked up at him, a glint of worry flashing in his eyes. and you can't help but to feel the frustration building in you as you remember the words people say to you, "yes..no? i don't kno—" you choked out, smacking your hand on top of your mouth at the sound you let out.

it just got worse when you feel the tears you've been penting up for the past few weeks come out. itadori blinked feverishly, a little surprised to see you crying like this. he has never seen you cry before, "y/n..?" he breathes out, his hand reaching out to you, but you moved back, trying to avoid his touch.

the embarrassment you felt was horrid, you hated crying in front of people, even your own boyfriend, "baby," itadori mutters out seriously, grabbing your arms and then pulling them away from your face, "tell me what's wrong. talk to me."

i feel like he knew where this was going, he had a hunch. for the past few weeks, you asked him about why he was with you, why he loves you when there were better people out there (you think). and he knew it was because of what people said.

"i...i just don't think i'm the right one for you, yuuji. they're right, you need a more emotionally available partner."

itadori's face fell when you said that, and he shook his head, pulling you into his embrace. rocking back and forth like a baby, "why would you say that? why would you listen to them y/n?" he asks quietly.

"i...don't know."

he pulled away, brows furrowed and he held your shoulders, "you're perfect for me, i don't give a fuck what they said about you and i. the next time someone says something, i'm going to beat them up," the thing is, he looked so serious you couldn't help but to chuckle.

"you just chuckled.." he breathes out, "my life is complete."

TODO AOI. he's very boisterous, and i feel like he'd be the type of person who would defend his partner everywhere they go. when you accepted his feelings, he was surprised since he never expected you to like someone like him. but he was pretty damn proud of you, and as a boyfriend, he shows you off like a trophy.

telling people about how amazing you are, how you make him happy, or how you treat him nicely. but people are fucking judgmental, some of them don't like the idea of others living happily — and you never thought that "these" particular people would target you next for it.

saying how fucking weird todo is for liking someone like you, and you had to be honest, it did get into you. and so began your avoidance to your own boyfriend, todo.

he hates it. he hated how you changed out of the blue, no matter how hard he tries to reach out for you, you weren't the same anymore and he never got why you decided to change.

believe me when i say that he tried asking his friends about it, or about tips to get you to talk to him. but really, they weren't much of a help, saying how you probably got bored and is avoiding him so he would be the one to break up first with you.

todo didn't want to let the idea of that get into him, but after a few weeks of you avoiding him non-stop, he began thinking the same thing. were you bored of him? did he do something that you didn't like? or is it because he ate the last chocolate chip cookie you were saving up and blamed it on someone else?

so when he got the chance to bump into you, he immediately took it as a chance to ask you about it.

"why are you avoiding me?" you tried ending the conversation right away by going the other way, but man is fast fast so he didn't let you — still wanting to know about the sudden change in your behavior.

todo knows how you didn't like being cornered, or how you don't like talking about the relationship, sappy shit. but if he didn't talk to you about this, todo knew he was going to regret it.

"y/n," he grabbed the back of your collar, pulling you back lightly, "did i do something wrong?"

you were silent for a few seconds before todo's ears perked up at the sound of soft, choked out sobs. you were crying. you were crying. and the panic sinks in, "i..i'm sorry, did i pull on your collar too hard?!" he panics, flailing his arms.

you shook your head, "...no, i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo stopped his panicking and stood up straight, "i couldn't stop thinking about what people have to say about us, and now that i think about it, i feel like you deserve more than me," todo widened his eyes and looked around.

"who the fuck said that? i'm going to beat them up so bad people won't recognize them," todo mutters out and the corner of your lips tugged upward, "is that why you're avoiding me?"

you nod, "it was wrong. i know i should've said something about it. i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo laid his hand on top of your head, brushing your h/c softly with a gentle smile, "you're perfect for me, fuck those people," he cusses out, "next time you hear em', don't forget to find out their names— i'm going to give them a lesson for it."

SUGURU GETO. suguru and you are like two peas in a pod. people never see him without you and vice versa, and often people would say that you both are the perfect couple. despite your personalities almost being the same type of calm, suguru is a calm man, and he's soft spoken. while you were just plain cold and stoic, rarely speak of something or even show your emotions.

someone bothering you? okay. someone making fun of you? okay. you were practically a walking definition of "i give zero fucks". but that doesn't mean you can't feel hurt, you are still human after all.

so when suguru told you about how he has a new co-worker, and how she has been clinging onto him, how she tries to get in his pants. you find it cute how he tells you about it, even telling you that you should come to his workplace so he could show you off.

you didn't feel anything because you trusted him. until you see the so called "co-worker" of his. she's pretty, you can't deny that. and you could see how she gets along with almost everyone, having no problem in instigating a conversation or complimenting people. people definitely like her.

that's where the insecurity began sinking in.

would suguru fall for her like everyone in his workplace does? would he leave you for her? so many questions you wanted to find the answer to.

"baby?"

you look at him, completely out of your daydream. he cocks his head to the side, "are you okay? you've been zoning out a lot lately..." he said, voice gentle and worried.

you nodded, "yeah. sorry. got a lot in my mind."

"do you want to talk about it?" he brushes a few h/c strands from covering your face, "you've been a little distant. is it something that i did, baby?"

god, just the thought of suguru thinking it was him made you a little sensitive. the past few weeks was already hard enough for you to contain yourself from breaking down, and him asking that made the tears you held in for so long drop out all at once.

suguru was a little taken aback and he sat straight up, alarmed, "y/n? baby? what's wrong?" he asks you gently, wiping the tears that never ceased from your face.

"i feel..i feel like i'm not enough. you deserve better than me, suguru." suguru swallowed the lump in his throat, he should've known, ever since you came to his workplace, you had started getting distant. and he should've known that was the reason.

suguru shook his head, cupping your face before giving you soft little kisses all over your face, "don't" a kiss on your forehead. "you" a kiss on your left cheek. "dare" a kiss on your right cheek. "say" a kiss on your nose. "that" a kiss on your chin.

the male gazes into your eyes deeply, "i love you," he softly said before planting a kiss on your lips, "you're the one i want, you're perfect for me. i can't see my future without you y/n, so please don't think about that..."

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[wesstars]

love, at second glance

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: that’s what you do when you love somebody else… wc: 1k tags: all characters 18+; no ghostface au. angst, horribly excessive use of italics (seriously, everything in italics is either a quote, a thought, or actual emphasis. it’s terrible) a/n: what’s up y’all (title from 715 - CR∑∑KS by bon iver)

masterlist

Tara wondered when it all began.

You and me, me and you.

A mantra that used to be comforting, it now left her mouth dry, mind frantic. 

Sometimes, when it got real bad like it did today, she’d drive out to your—our—deserted garage, and look up into a pitch black night, blinking away tears. It was easy to scream at the sky: how could you forget about me about us about milkshakes shared about distances closed about how I love you and love you and love you—but to you, she’d say nothing.

She couldn’t say anything, while you basked in the glow of a new hand to hold. It was all over in a helpless shrug. That was it, and really, it wasn’t your fault. Nobody’s fault. You couldn’t help it, Tara reasoned, you weren’t cruel. Even at the very end, you were endlessly kind. Commitment was a choice, but love, love happened to you away from Tara and she couldn’t do anything but watch.

Tara switched the engine off, leaning back in her seat. The stars shone barely brighter than the city lights. It was strange, the way that when she was on the brink of losing everything, the world looked that much more beautiful. Every breath in that particularly cold winter felt like it was being swallowed up by the vastness of air itself, precious in its scarcity. 

“But I love you.”

You said nothing for a moment, a troubled little frown twisting on your lips. “Tara, I—”

“I love you.” She heard, rather than felt, herself repeating it. As if stopping you from speaking would make that cold reality any less crushing. “That’s all.”

It was odd, Tara decided, to go online and see your life in the pictures she used to be part of. She put her phone down. From tide pulls to seasons changing, there wasn’t exactly a world where she envisioned herself going on without you. There was something in that sinking feeling, like you were holding her down with a hand on her chest, when she saw you laughing with your friends, with anyone, a smile so brilliant it couldn’t possibly have Tara as the cause. 

You’d always wanted a little cabin in the woods (“not in a creepy way,” you’d insist) surrounded by mist, and it would always be raining. “You’re the only sunshine I need, Tara Carpenter.” She could still hear the way you’d tease her, lying on your side next to her, tracing the bridge of her nose with your fingertip. So easy it was, to tumble back into those shining memories where absolutely nothing would go wrong, you wouldn't let it, because she was yours.

The top floor of the lot was empty, and the moon spilled onto the windshield, into the empty passenger seat. She was lucky, you both were lucky, to have even come as close to the sun as the two of you did. Tara knew, deep inside herself, that if she just let it all go, she would be okay. The blood would rush back into her fingertips—you wouldn’t be there to massage the feeling back into them, the way you often did on winter nights like this—and then she would be okay.

Tara thought that she remembered too much for someone so hurt. Your hand on her thigh while you drove, wiping her lipstick off your cheek, the way you seemed so so so unhappy when you sat her down for one last time. You didn’t even look the same then, like you were somebody else, you weren’t hers anymore. It was getting colder in the car, but Tara didn’t feel anything but the searing coil of shame. 

Sunkissed March found you and Tara lying side by side on a picnic blanket, sodas losing their fizz as time forgot to move the two of you. A breeze ruffled the leaves, and if she really listened, Tara could hear the frogs in the nearby pond. You loved it here—you said it reminded you of hot summers spent in the countryside, the days as long as wildflowers. Not half an hour ago, you were braiding together the stems of daisies into a lush crown. 

“For you, Queen Carpenter,” you said in a posh accent. “A gift from your humble knight—each braid represents a ‘forever,’ and each flower is an ‘always.’” You set the crown atop Tara’s head, kissing the tip of her nose as she rolled her eyes.

“And what has compelled my knight to bring me such a gift?”

“Only all of the love I carry for you, your majesty.” You scooped her up in your arms, smiling as she giggled, rolling the two of you over to settle into the knolls of grass.

There was a certain bravery in the way your fingers wrapped loosely around hers, the way the heels of both your shoes made indents in the dirt—proclaiming, we were here. Even in her doze, Tara could feel you there, each moment stretching on like strings of eternity, unfailingly. 

The moment did end, as moments do. The crown, dried and shrunk, still hung from the rear view mirror in the car. The daisies themselves were long gone, but the dried stems had somehow stayed bound together. Tara’s head dropped into her hands, eyes sore and red. She’d thought so much and so often about where the two of you went wrong, she felt like she had turned over every stone in your path, ones that didn’t carry with them the weight of a goodbye. Tara would give anything to even know what it would take for you to stand in the sun with her one more time.

The abrupt knock on the window should’ve startled Tara more than it did, given that it was four in the morning in an empty parking lot, and she was supposed to be all alone. But all she could do was watch with wide eyes as the knock came from you, at your tight lipped smile. She rolled down the window, unable to feel anything but shock as she took in your mismatched shoes with untied laces, your shirt way too thin for the cold night. You weren’t looking at her, guilt evident in the hunch of your shoulders. Your voice comes out exactly as she remembered it. 

“Hey… can we talk?”

--

a/n cont'd: don't super feel like i like this but writing it came naturally so

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[withacapitalp]

All this was inspired by listening to She’s So Overrated by Madilyn Bailey so fair warning LMAO. Also this got SO MUCH LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO IM SORRY IT WAS JUST ME WRITING DOWN AN IDEA......

Okay so I’m having thoughts about modern AU lead singer Eddie Munson who’s been in the industry for years with the boys. Corroded Coffin is a staple of the metal industry, but for a few years he’s been feeling really stalled in his career and just stuck in place. He’s still making music, still performing, but he feels like he’s getting farther and farther from that kid who used to scream and sing in his closet bedroom in the shoebox apartment he used to share with Wayne. 

So when he and the boys are in an interview and the interviewee brings up how “King” Steve Harrington from The Four is trying to reinvent himself with the help of former bandmate Robin Buckley, Eddie goes off. He works himself up into a little tizzy, ranting Munson Doctrine style about how a former teen pop star trying to become some second rate folk singer isn’t anything special, and that he wouldn’t be caught dead cashing in like that. 

That Steve’s music is bad (even though he’s honestly never listened to it) and “King” Steve is overrated. How even Beiber is better than him. He’s just bullshit. 

Of course the interview goes viral, and finds its way to Steve and Robin. Robin listens to it first and she doesn’t want Steve to watch it. She knows how close things like this cut him (especially that word), and how he’s been dealing with a lot of hate from everyone even from former fans who are confused by the sharp contrast of his new music- aka the music he’s finally being allowed to write now that he’s broken away from his momager- but Steve makes her show him. 

She’s sure that she’s going to have to spend the next week rebuilding his confidence. 

And instead, Steve’s lip curls into a smile, and he grabs his songbook, telling her to find her guitar. 

Eddie wakes up five days after the interview to a huge flood of social media notifications, a dozen missed calls from the boys and his manager and his uncle. He ignores them all and goes to see what he fucked up this time. 

Eddie opens Youtube and it’s at the top of his recommendations. The thumbnail is Steve and Robin sitting together with a guitar in her lap. The title of the video is just one word. 

Bullshit. 

This can’t be good. 

Eddie listens to it even though he doesn’t want to. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not a coward. Not anymore. He listens to it because he has to know how much he’s fucked up. 

And then he listens to it again. And again. And again. 

It gets stuck in his head. All of it. Not just the song (which admittedly is pretty killer) but also hearing the flippantly mean words he had casually thrown at Steve being shoved back in his face. He had seen Steve as an abstract thing, just a symbol of everything wrong with the industry, not a real person. And now this actual human being that he’s hearing has turned all of that garbage into a song that feels more genuine then most of the music on the last two albums he wrote himself. A song that has heart, joy, and a strong current of pain underneath, especially in the bridge where Steve just sings the word bullshit over and over. 

There’s even more than that. He also sees the way Robin and Steve interact while they’re working the smiles, the jabs, the silly little way Steve bobs his head along as he listens to her play, the way they both collapse into giggles at the end as Steve directly quotes the part of the interview where Eddie said that Steve “is just another laundry basket devil trying to act like a big shot now that he’s too old for teen girls to moon over.” 

He can’t remember the last time he and the boys had that much fun making a song. 

Hell, Eddie even sees their apartment. It’s a pretty nondescript room, but he can see the wear and tear on the furniture, the cobwebs in the corners of the room, the slightly drooping houseplant with the name “Dart” lovingly painted on its pot. It feels like a home, and as Eddie looks around at the bedroom in his far too big mansion, he feels even more like a fraud. 

Eddie listens to the song on repeat for most of the morning. In the afternoon he finally answers everyone, and starts to put his plan into motion. 

By that evening he’s on the phone with Steve asking him and Robin to help Corroded Coffin write their next song. 

[whispers-of-lilith]

THEIR FAVORITE PLACE TO FINISH - JJK EDITION

A/N: Hey! This is my first time posting something that isn't a short, incorrect quote, so honestly, I'm a little nervous. This stemmed from a conversation I had with @lale-txt, thank you Lale for listening to my rambling about silly questions!

Summary: Toji, like most others, has a preference of where he likes to spill his load. [Well, when he's not allowed to finish inside that is...]

Warnings: Toji is his own warning, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Overstimulation, Pet Names [Princess], Backshots, Pussy Shots [?]. [If I missed anything important, please let me know, I'm not used to tagging things]

Word Count: ~0.6k

❀ BACKSHOTS ❀

One of Toji's favorite positions to have you in is face down, ass up, while he rails you from behind. With one foot on the ground, he places his other foot on the bed for leverage as he pounds into you mercilessly.

Toji loves the way your ass jiggles with each thrust he drives into you. Although, the snap of his hips against your plush ass is occasionally replaced with his large hand coming down for a sharp smack. The sting is painful enough to make you yelp, but he's quick to knead the angry, red flesh in an attempt to soothe it.

Toji pounds into you so harshly, that his heavy balls slap against your poor, sensitive clit. Yet, when you try to crawl away, whimpering about it being too much, he responds with, “tsk, we're not done yet Princess, you can take a little more f'me can't ya?”

And he's got you fucked so dumb that you simply nod through the tears. The familiar tightness of another impending orgasm settling in the pit of your stomach as his pace remains relentless.

As your legs begin to tremble, ready to give out under you, Toji swiftly grips your hip with one hand to keep you close. His other hand trails up your spine, his thick fingers tangling in your hair to push your head down into the sheets below.

The intermingled sounds of your shared pleasure quickly fills the space like an unseen symphony. His grunts of exertion, your cries of begging him for more and the distinct sound of skin slapping against skin– a song of desire meant for only you and Toji.

With his body leaned over yours, he ruts himself into your cunt like an animal to chase his high. The sound of your muffled moans and whimpers only make Toji snap his hips into yours that much harsher.

As he finds himself close to cumming, he releases your hair, bringing his hand down to circle your neglected clit. You cry out his name over and over like a mantra as he causes a forceful orgasm to wash over you. Toji's pace falters as your walls contract deliciously on his cock and after a few more harsh thrusts he just barely manages to pull out.

With a groan, he rests his cock on your ass, his hand pumping his dick with fervor. Toji tosses his head back as he loses himself to the pleasure. A string of curses leaving his lips in a growl before rope after rope of his cum paints your back.

❀ BONUS ❀

Other times, Toji is not a fan when you tell him he has to pull out. It was supposed to be a compromise between you both, if he didn't wear a condom, then he had to make sure to pull out.

He'd make sure you're too fucked out and drunk on his cock before giving you that signature smirk. The one where you know he's up to something, but you're too lost in the pleasure to realize what it is. You can't help but panic when Toji's thrusts become sloppy, his cock slamming impossibly deep in your pussy, but he makes no move to pull out.

You cry out his name, palms pushing weakly against his sweat coated abs– and just when you think he's about to fill you with his seed, he pulls out. Albeit, just barely. He keeps the tip of his cock so close to your spasming hole, finishing all over your slick folds.

Toji would even be smug enough to run his cock up and down his cum like an asshole. Only to glance up at your pouting face with a shrug and say, “technically, I did pull out, Princess”.

©️ The following work is property of Whispers-of-lilith. Please do not copy, replicate, repost, plagiarize, or steal any parts of the above writing. Shares, likes & reblogs are extremely appreciated!

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position: Week 1 (Introductions)

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo x OFC (Katarina)

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

Chapter Word Count: 7.1K

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Week 1 Quote: "Fuck. I might be in trouble."

Dieter’s POV

“Lenny, have you seen this fucking schedule? It’s seven days a week for twelve weeks. When do I get a break?” 

Lenny, my agent, sighed through the speaker phone, “D, I told you this was going to be a lot of work before you agreed to do it. You shouldn’t be surprised…and besides, that’s only if you make it to the finals.”

I scoffed, “Thanks for the vote of confidence…asshole.” Lenny chuckled on the other end of the line. We both went quiet for a moment as I continued to flip through the packet of paper that Lenny had sent over for review, “I don’t even get to have any say on the wardrobe or music. Such bullshit…sucking all the fun out of it. Did you at least drop a bug in their ear about who I’ll be partnered with? If I get stuck with someone I don’t want, I’m gonna be fucking miserable.” 

“I did, but the producers said they always do the partner matching themselves. They have a formula…or something. Maybe bring it up again at this morning's meeting and explain why. They may listen to you on it.” 

I huffed as my eyes continued skimming over the weekly schedule, “I have to get a fucking spray tan every week? You have GOT to be kidding me…Lenny, you know I don’t like using carcinogenic chemicals on my body.” 

“Uhhh, no comment on that…Look, I’ll put in a call and see if they can use something natural for that.” 

I relaxed some, “I would appreciate that. Thank you. Tell them I have an allergy or something…just make it happen.” 

I tossed the packet onto the table and picked up my phone, taking it off speaker and putting it to my ear - now pacing as I spoke, “Well, it looks like I’m gonna be pretty busy for a bit. That’ll be a nice distraction. It beats being locked inside the house at least.”  

Lenny hesitated, but still asked, “How are you doing with everything? Still managing ok?” 

I sighed, “Yeah, I mean I’m going to therapy and all the meetings still. I’ve been doing ok…just trying to keep the stress levels down. That’s what gets to me the most.” 

“How long has it been?”

I looked at the date on my watch, “Eight months today…actually. It’s the longest I’ve ever been clean, and I plan to stick to it this time. I’m feeling good and I want to keep it that way.” 

“Everyone is really proud of you, D. You know that, right? Keep at it and we'll have you back on top in no time.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing that it was an uphill battle, “I appreciate that, but good luck getting people to change their opinion of me. I’m not sure if my reputation is salvageable at this point. Everyone seems to think my sobriety is some sort of joke. No one is taking it seriously.”

I could hear Lenny inhale deeply on the other end of the phone, “It’s just going to take time, D. Don’t give up yet.” 

I pursed my lips in thought, “Yeah, I guess. Anyway, I need to get ready for this meeting. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely let me know how it goes.”  

Once I hung up the phone with Lenny, I took a quick shower, then spent longer than I should have staring at the clothes hanging in my closet - trying to pick something that says I have my shit together. My therapist kept reminding me that if I dressed like a slob, people were going to treat me like one. So, I was putting more effort into making myself presentable before I left the house these days. Since it was a work meeting, I went for a business casual look, figuring I couldn’t go wrong with that. After styling my hair and getting dressed, I grabbed my keys, phone, wallet, and sunglasses and headed out the front door.

As I approached my car, which was parked in the driveway, I noticed there was a dead bird on the hood. The fluffy gray, brown, and white stray cat that had been hanging around my house was sitting next to it, looking rather proud of himself. I sighed, “Come on dude, really?” And this is why I need to get the garage cleaned out. I hit the clicker to open the garage door so I could get a broom to knock the bird off the hood. As I waded through the mountain of empty boxes from my move six months ago, I cursed myself for taking my sweet time getting that stuff out of the house. Finally finding the broom, I quickly moved to get the dead bird off of the car and shooed the cat away. He didn’t look happy about it as he moved to sit on the pathway in front of the house, watching me until I was finally on my way to Television City Studios to meet with the producers of Dancing with the Stars. 

When I arrived at the studio, I was met by the two executive producers, Stacia and Joe and led into a conference room. I let them do their spiel about what’s expected and the schedule. Nodding along in all the right places, being as polite as possible even though I hated how little say I had over anything. Once they moved on to the topic of how they choose partners, I spoke up for the first time, “I would really like to have input on my partner.” They both moved to speak before I held up my hand to signal that I wasn’t finished talking. 

“Look, I know you all have your formula or whatever, but I have a legitimate reason for asking. As I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve been trying to clean up my image. I’ve been sober for eight months and I would really like to be placed with someone that doesn’t have a reputation for partying…someone who isn’t gonna be a negative influence on me. It’s actually really important to me because I’m actively avoiding being around anyone who is into that kind of lifestyle.” Which is why I spend most of my time alone.  

Stacia and Joe looked at each other, obviously surprised at my reasoning for the request. They were actually stunned into silence. Since neither of them said anything, I continued, “I had my team check into the dancers, and based on their recommendation…I’m requesting that Katarina Stamos be my partner. She has a good reputation and I’m also told she’s very professional and isn’t judgmental…because that’s been an issue here lately that I’d really like to not have to deal with.”

Stacia’s brow furrowed, “Are you looking to actually win? Because Kat hasn’t won a single season that she’s been with us.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. What an asshole thing to say about someone. “Well, maybe that’s because you keep giving her shitty partners.” 

I gave Stacia a sarcastic smile. She had the audacity to look offended by that statement. I had watched the show and seen the people Katarina was partnered with. It was always the older guys that could hardly move. Stacia’s attitude made me more determined to have Katarina as a partner just to prove a fucking point on her behalf. 

Joe interrupted the silent standoff that Stacia and I now seemed to be having, “Alright, let’s think about this…” He turned to Stacia, “Physically, they work together. Their height and proportions are a good match…and Kat is very patient. She would work well with him. Also, if he wishes to be with someone who isn’t into partying, Anika is not the person he needs to be with.”

Stacia looked frustrated and unwilling to give in as she glared at her counterpart. Joe smirked, “If you're worried about the change in narrative, it’s possible there may be other options we haven’t considered.” 

What the fuck does that mean? I leaned forward on my elbows, “What narrative?” 

They both turned to look at me, Stacia now had a sly smile on her face. It was Joe who answered, “We always consider the possible narratives that could come up between partners. How they’ll interact and get along personality wise. It’s an important factor for the show.”

I felt a crease form between my brows, “So basically, you try to manufacture drama for TV.”  

Joe shook his head, “Not exactly, I mean ultimately, yes. We just take personalities and such into account when we pair the dancers with their celebrities. I mean, we do want everyone to get along with their partner, obviously.”   

So, you’re fucking meddlers. Got it. I arched my brows, giving them a tight smile as I nodded, going along with what they were telling me. I now realized I would have to keep an eye on these two. I didn’t feel like they had my best interest in mind. Especially if they were initially planning to put me with the known party girl. 

I cleared my throat before speaking again, “So what does that mean…do I get to work with Katarina or not?” 

Stacia looked at me, now smiling, “I think that may actually be a good match now that I think about it. So yeah, we’ll let you work with Kat. Hopefully you’ll both make it through to finals.” 

What is this woman’s deal? Geez Louise. I eyed them both suspiciously for a moment, “Ok, good. Now I’m finally a little excited about this.”   

They went over a few more details about the schedule before taking me out to meet with a production assistant, who was tasked with giving me a tour of the building and showing me where my dressing room would be. This part of my day couldn’t end soon enough… 

Katarina’s POV

As I was pulling into the Television City Studios parking lot for the first day of my last season on Dancing with the Stars, my phone pinged with a text from Alec, my fiancée.

Alec: I finished up my meeting with production. Are you here? Have you had yours yet?

I leaned my head back against the seat. What the hell has he been doing? I know his meeting was over an hour ago.

Me: Just parked, I have mine in 10 minutes. I’m on my way in…Meet you in the lobby. 

A few minutes later, I found Alec in the lobby. He seemed more excited than he normally was on the first day as he greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek. 

I leaned away from him, “What’s got you so smiley this morning?” I could tell he was trying to temper it down and have a more neutral expression on his face as he shrugged, “I didn’t realize I was. Guess I’m just excited to see you.” 

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. What are you hiding now you asshole. He didn’t know how well I could read him at this point. 

I arched a brow instead of returning his smile, “So, I assume you found out who your partner is gonna be?”

He continued his attempts at a neutral expression, “Yeah, Lana Thompson…she’s an actress, I think. There was apparently a last minute change to the lineup this morning. You know her?” 

I gave him a tight smile, “Yeah…I know her. She has a bit of a reputation…”  

He feigned ignorance, “Oh? I don’t know anything about her. I’m sure she’ll turn out to be one of those stuck up, bitchy types like the rest of ‘em. Ya know, you’re lucky it’s your last season so you don’t have to deal with these people anymore.” 

And there it is. He doth protest too much. He was excited to be paired with her, I could tell. He saw it as an opportunity. As far as I knew, he hadn’t strayed to another woman in some time, but that didn’t mean he had changed. He still hadn’t earned my trust back and his current excitement only made me more suspicious of his commitment. 

Alec could sense the tension taking hold of my body as he rubbed at my lower back, “Everything ok, baby?”

I gave him a half-hearted smile, “Yeah, just peachy. I’ve gotta go or I’m gonna be late. I’ll catch up with you after.” 

As I was walking down the hallway toward the conference room, I saw Lana Thompson exiting the bathroom. I suspected Alec had already met his partner and liked her more than he let on. Which probably explains why it took him as long as it did to text me. 

When I entered the conference room, Stacia and Joe sat huddled together. They seemed to be engrossed in whatever they were whispering about, but abruptly stopped talking once they realized I was lingering in the entryway. They both smiled, almost over enthusiastically as they welcomed me and motioned for me to have a seat. They studied me for a moment before Stacia finally spoke, “How are things going with you?” 

That’s an odd question and an odd tone. I wasn’t sure what kind of answer she was looking for, “It’s going good, why?” 

She gave me a small smile, “I know it’s your last season because you have things going on…but do you think you’re feeling up to the possibility of making it to finals?” 

I gave her a confused look, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Joe leaned forward, “What Stacia is trying to say is…the person we have you partnered with this time is going to be a little more physically able than your usual partners. So, you may be in it for the full twelve weeks…if you can pull it off. Are you physically able to handle it?” 

Should I be offended by that? It’s not like I can’t function. It was just painful some days, especially when there were a lot of rehearsals. My joints couldn’t handle the Latin dances like they used to - the jerky movements exacerbating the inflammation and discomfort. That didn’t mean they had to treat me like a fragile porcelain doll though. 

I narrowed my eyes at them, “Of course I can handle it. I could handle it this entire time…which is why I’ve been asking for more capable partners.” 

Joe smiled, “Well, good. Maybe you can go out with a bang this season.” 

What the fuck was this about? I dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I tried to figure out their angle. There was always an angle with them, “Why do I feel like you’re trying to sell this to me?” 

Joe grimaced slightly. “We’re not trying to sell it, but we do worry you won’t be happy about it.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the seat, “Who is it?” 

Stacia smirked, “It’s Dieter Bravo.”

I looked between the two of them, “You’re joking?” 

They shook their heads in unison. This didn’t make sense. Wouldn’t he be better suited with one of the girls that enjoyed a lifestyle similar to his? 

“What makes you think he and I will work well together? I know I have a lot of patience, but it does have its limits.” 

Joe chuckled, “His people requested you specifically. He’s actually eight months sober and they want him with someone who isn’t going to get him into trouble. He’s trying to clean up his image.” 

I scoffed, “I thought you didn’t let the celebrities have any say in who they’re partnered with?”

Joe leaned forward onto the table, “We don’t normally, but given his request and the reasons for it, we felt we should make an exception. We were thinking of putting him with you anyway.”

I shook my head, “You are aware of his reputation, right? Alec is gonna lose his shit over this.” 

Stacia smiled, “It’s not your or Alec’s choice. We run the show.”

It dawned on me then. Alec had said there was a last minute lineup change this morning and that’s why he was put with Lana. I had somehow managed to fly under the radar when it came to the producers' manufactured bullshit, but now I was right in the middle of it. They were making moves to create an underlying narrative for the show. 

“Who was he partnered with originally? I know it wasn’t me.” 

Stacia looked surprised by my question, “He was never partnered with anyone else before you.”

Stacia was lying. She couldn’t look at me directly when she answered my question - it was her tell. I knew how their minds worked. Dieter Bravo had a reputation for causing trouble and they were looking to exploit it. I’m sure his request caused a hiccup in their plans, so now they were making adjustments to cause drama surrounding him any way they could. 

My eyes shifted between the two of them, “I don’t know what your endgame is here, but I have no intention of playing, just so you know.”

Stacia and Joe sat expressionless, not giving anything away. I assumed they expected this sort of response from me. My tendency to push back at their plans was one of the reasons I wasn’t a favorite of theirs and most likely part of the reason they always worked to get me off the show as soon as possible, every season. Which sucked for my bank account. To add to their reasoning, I wasn’t interesting enough since I never had issues with my partners or whirlwind romances that made for good TV. However, this season they were taking a chance, throwing two bombs in the form of Lana and Dieter into my already tumultuous relationship with Alec. Hoping for an exciting outcome that would play out behind the scenes to stir up tabloid fodder and result in free promotion for the show.  

Joe sighed, finally speaking to break the tension in the room, “For what it’s worth, we met with Dieter earlier this morning…he was actually very pleasant and agreeable. I don’t think he’ll be an issue for you, so long as he continues to stay sober.”

My brows furrowed, “It sounds like you have a lot of faith in him. Good to know.” I moved to stand, “Well, if there isn’t anything else you need from me…”

Joe smiled weakly in my direction, “No, I think that’s it for now…just make sure you review the schedule and let us know if you have questions.” 

I gave them a sarcastic smile before moving to leave the conference room. As I rounded the corner in the hallway, looking down at the floor lost in my thoughts and frustration, I ran into someone. I started mumbling my apologies as I looked up at the stranger. I was met with a mess of curls, piercing dark eyes, and a dimpled lop-sided grin. It was Dieter fucking Bravo looking like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said through a chuckle with his hands on my shoulders to catch me from running head first into him. We stared at each other in silence for a moment. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, he can’t call me that.  

He had a slight smirk on his face now, “Katarina, right? Looks like we’re gonna be dance partners.” 

I shook my head, my lips set in a tight line, “Don’t call me that.” 

His brow furrowed, “What? Katarina?” 

I scoffed, “No, sweetheart. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. It’s inappropriate. You can call me Kat like everyone else.” 

He was obviously taken off guard by my cold demeanor as he gave me a confused look, “I didn’t…mean anything by it, I-I call everyone sweetheart.” 

I nodded, “Well, you're not gonna call me that.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a beat, “I guess I’ve earned that. Sorry, I won’t do it again.” 

I inhaled deeply, biting my bottom lip as I did so. It didn’t go unnoticed that his eyes shifted down to my mouth. “Look, this is my last season and I just wanna get through it without any drama, ok?”

A crease formed between his brows as his jaw ticked to the side, “What makes you think I’m gonna cause drama?”

I shook my head, now realizing how big of a jerk I was being, “Umm…I…”

He continued to stare at me with a burning intensity, “Just so you know, I’m sober…have been for eight months. Drama is not my thing these days…”

I gave him a tight smile, “Good…hopefully you can stick to it.”  Fuck. That did not come out how I meant for it to.

I could see his jaw muscles flex before he let out a small laugh. His eyes finally shifted downward. He almost looked hurt by that comment. 

I sighed, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” 

His brows arched as he peered at me through his lashes, “You know, I requested to be partnered with you because I was told that you're professional and wouldn’t be judgmental about my past…I guess I heard wrong. I suppose I should just expect it at this point, right? Maybe I shouldn’t have such high expectations of others.” 

My mouth fell open as I shook my head. I’m such a fucking asshole. He didn’t give me a chance to say anything before he spoke again, “I guess I’ll see you at rehearsals tomorrow. Have a good afternoon.” He gave me a sad smile as he brushed past me. I stood there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot watching him as he walked toward the exit. That was a great first impression. Good job, Kat. 

“Who was that?” Alec asked from behind me. 

I turned, running my fingers through the top of my hair out of frustration, “That was my new dance partner.” 

Alec squinted toward the figure standing near the exit, now stopping to look at his phone, “Is that Dieter Bravo?” 

I could feel my jaw tighten as I took in Alec’s expression, “Yes, it is.” Alec’s head snapped toward me, “I don’t want you working with him.” 

I smiled sarcastically, “Really? And you think I have a choice in that? They made it clear, there is no other option. I asked.”

Alec shook his head, “You could just not do this season. You're quitting anyway. Why not go ahead and drop out?” 

My eyes widened at his suggestion, “Because I need the fucking money, you know that.” 

He chuckled, “Right, for the dance studio.” 

I scoffed, “Yeah, for the dance studio. I don’t understand why you can’t support me on that.” 

Alec didn’t acknowledge my question, “This guy is a known womanizer. I’m not comfortable with this.” 

My head tilted to the side, “So you don’t trust me. That’s rich coming from you. You know…I’m not excited about your partner either, but I didn’t tell you to drop out. If anyone has a right to be concerned, it’s me.” 

Alec moved in closer, causing me to back up against the wall as he got in my face. His eyes were blazing with anger, “You’re never gonna let that shit go, are you? That was ten months ago, and I have been loyal to you ever since. Yet here you are…still throwing it in my fucking face.” 

I had a sudden defiant streak hit me, “You’re the one who brought it up by insinuating that you couldn’t trust me. I’m just reminding you who the problem is in this relationship.” 

Alec moved to put his hand on the wall next to my head as he leaned in further - his nose nearly touching mine as I turned my stoney face away from him, “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again,” he spat out.   

I could feel his eyes drift over my face for a moment before he pulled away and walked off. 

I huffed out a quiet “Fuck” as I exhaled a shaky breath and watched him walk toward the dressing rooms. When I glanced back toward the exit, Dieter was still standing there, frozen in place with his phone halfway to his ear. Once he realized I was looking his way, his head dropped downward, and he slowly turned to exit the building.   

 Dieter’s POV 

As I walked out into the scorching afternoon sun, I ended the call to check my voicemail, deciding I wasn’t in the mood to hear it. I was frustrated by my first interaction with Katarina. It didn’t go how I expected, and honestly, she had hurt my feelings. Based on everything I had heard about her, I didn’t think she would throw my past up in my face like that. At least not immediately, if at all. She did seem a little flustered, maybe she was just having a bad day? 

What followed after our exchange was even more bizarre. It looked like she was having a tense conversation with the man that I assumed was the one she was dating. Lenny had mentioned she was engaged to one of the other dancers. When the man first leaned in, I initially thought they were just having a private moment, but then I noticed the look on Kat’s face as she turned away from him. Something about it was unsettling and for a brief moment, I considered interrupting them. Luckily, I didn’t have to. However, I was left feeling that I had witnessed something I wasn’t supposed to.

Even though our conversation didn’t go as well as I hoped, I was still struck with how beautiful Katarina was in person. Pictures and TV didn’t do her justice. It was probably a good thing she was seeing someone, otherwise I would be in danger of making a fool of myself. Then again, I probably would anyway. My sober self didn’t seem to know how to act around a pretty lady. My confidence and self-assurance definitely weren’t on the same level these days. 

When I got home, I spent more time than I would like to admit staring at my reflection in the mirror - trying to remind myself that I was no longer the piece of shit that everyone still saw me as. It was still hard for me to accept that the old me and the new me were two very different people. Some days it really did seem like it was easier being the old Dieter Bravo, because he didn’t care about how he was perceived by others. I often longed for him to come back, just to quiet the thoughts of self-hate and inadequacy. Those thoughts really could be suffocating and hard to overcome. It was near impossible living with myself on those days.

The anticipation of how our first rehearsal would go was starting to get to me. So, I decided to spend the rest of the evening trying to relax and take my mind off things. With classical music blaring from the sound system, I moved through the house to check in on my plants - watering, misting leaves, and pruning. It was a new hobby I had picked up since rehab. It started with one succulent plant that had seen better days. My neighbor had left it sitting next to the trash bin on garbage collection day. For some reason, I had an urge to attempt to save the shriveled mass. After a few weeks, it was showing new life as the deep purple hues started to form on the leaves. My plant obsession bloomed from there. Now I wasn’t even sure how many I had. I was fairly certain my housekeeper was going to quit if I brought any more home. 

After I was finished with the plants, I spent some time painting until I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. It was nearing midnight by the time I had showered and crawled into bed. Even though I was completely exhausted, I couldn’t shut my mind off. The anxiety was now building to problematic levels. It was always at this point that I thought about using the most. By now, the old Dieter would be a couple lines in and a few drinks deep to block out the thoughts. The new Dieter suffers through it as he lay in bed alone, staring into the darkness. I drug both hands down my face and huffed loudly before moving to switch on the lamp beside the bed. I reached for my latest self-help book and began reading.  

I was startled awake by my 7 AM alarm. I groaned as I felt around next to me on the bed for the shrilling phone to shut it off. I sat up, still half out of it, causing the book that had been lying on my chest to fall to the floor with a loud thump. I got up from bed, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I walked toward the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I stood staring at my reflection again, “You look like shit, Bravo.” It was clear I hadn’t gotten much sleep from my dark circles and puffy eyelids. I threw a warm rag over my eyes for a few minutes in hopes that would help.

Standing in my closet staring at the pile of gym clothes my stylist had picked up, I selected a random pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then pulled the tags off. We weren’t allowed to wear anything with brands or logos on filming days, so I had to break down and buy more clothes. It was probably for the best, my old gym clothes were looking a little ratty anyway.    

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my backpack that had a few essentials in it and headed toward the front door. As I stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind me, I was greeted by my furry squatter who had left another gift near the steps - a dead mouse. I sighed, “Well, at least it’s not on top of the car this time…” The fluffy menace meowed at me as he rubbed against my legs, as if to say, “Look what I did!” 

I was determined to not give in to the furry intruder, so I disregarded his attempts for pets. “Don’t you have a family somewhere to annoy?” I muttered to him as I continued toward the car. He followed me halfway down the pathway before sitting down and flicking his tail around as he watched me get into the driver's side and shut the door. He didn’t look happy about being ignored. 

I gave myself a quick glance in the rearview mirror, reaching to comb down my hair with my fingers. I hadn’t bothered to fix it, knowing it was going to turn into a mess no matter what I did to it. Then, I started the car and drove in silence to the dance studio, not even really sure how I got there as I pulled into the parking lot. I found myself wondering if I had run any redlights as I walked through the main entrance. I felt like I was in a haze as the camera team talked to me in the lobby to fill me in on the plans for filming. 

They wanted to do a brief interview with me before I went into the studio with Katarina. They wanted me to give the whole spiel about how excited I was to be here and working with my dance partner. Truth is, I wasn’t excited. I was nervous as hell, and I was supposed to act like this was the first time I was meeting her. I was unsure of how to act toward her, so when the time came for me to walk through the door to greet her and act excited, I turned on the Dieter Bravo charm the best I could and pretended like yesterday’s conversation never happened.

I was surprised to find how well Katarina did the same thing as she came over to greet me with a smile and a hug and gushed about how excited she was to work with me. However, we were both avoiding looking at the other directly. Clearly there was still some lingering awkwardness between us. After they filmed the introduction, they wanted to get some quick shots of us rehearsing. 

These first few days of rehearsal were meant for learning the basics. We were not actually getting into the first routine yet. We started with some simple stretches and moved into learning the proper frame, the different types of positions, and spacing for the different types of dances. It was all very high level and fast, but Katarina had promised that we would go over it in more detail once the film crew left for the day. The quick pace was mostly for the benefit of the film crew so they could get what they needed and move on to the next couple. 

Once filming was done for the day, we took a seat on the floor for a water break as the crew gathered up all of their gear to leave. We mostly sat in awkward silence until we were finally alone. I could feel Katarina’s eyes on me as I stared at the water bottle in my hand. She spoke first. 

“I feel like I should apologize about yesterday…I was having a shit day and kind of took it out on you. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean what I said.” 

I pursed my lips and shrugged, “It’s fine. I’m used to it at this point.” 

She reached out and grasped my wrist with her left hand, the heat of her touch raced through me as I looked at the glittering ring on that finger for a moment before meeting her eyes, “It doesn’t mean that it should keep happening though. It’s not right and it’s not fair to you. Everyone deserves a second chance.” 

I huffed out a small laugh, “Yeah, except I’m on like my tenth chance. I understand why no one takes me seriously. Really, it’s not that big of a deal.” 

Her face softened as she stared at me for a beat, like she was trying to decide what she wanted to say next. Then she shifted her body to face me as she crossed her legs, “It is a big deal. It’s a big deal to me because I know better. You know…” 

She paused, appearing to gather her thoughts. I moved to lean back on my hand and face her more fully with my legs stretched out to the side. My teeth bit into my bottom lip as I watched her face shift to a somewhat pained expression. It was brief, but I still caught it before she gained her composure. 

“My uhh…my dad was sober for about 14 years before he passed. I know how hard it was for him in the beginning…with everyone doubting him and not giving him a chance. It’s one of the reasons he relapsed the first few times. It can be hard when you don’t have any support from the people around you. I know that…and I don’t wanna be one of those people. You haven’t given me any reason to doubt you, so I wanna make sure I’m giving you a fair shot and support you as long as you’re actively trying to better yourself. I know first-hand that people do change.”

Is she fucking serious? I couldn’t move or speak. She had stunned me again for the second day in a row. I never would have guessed she would share something so personal, especially on our first day together. She seemed sincere in her apology.   

I finally managed a curt nod before I reached to rub at the crease between my brows, “Thanks…I uhh…I appreciate that.”  I let out a small laugh, “I appreciate it more than you probably realize, actually.” 

She gave me a tentative smile, “Does that mean I’m forgiven for being an asshole then?” 

I chuckled, “Of course…and I didn’t think you were an asshole. Not really. I had a feeling you were having a bad day.”

“Whew…ok. Good. I was worried I had already fucked this whole thing up before it started.” 

Ok, it’s kind of hot when she says fuck. I smirked, “Does this mean I get to call you sweetheart now?” 

She narrowed her eyes on me and shook her head, “No. No sweetheart.” She laughed quietly, “But, I might consider a different nickname if you come up with a good one.” 

My lips spread into a cheeky smile, “I think I can come up with something.” She laughed into the top of her water bottle as she took a sip with a slight flush creeping up her neck. Am I flirting right now? I don’t even know what I’m doing. Geez. I looked away in an attempt to reign myself in. I can’t be doing that.  

We were soon back at it, now with a more relaxed atmosphere. We again started with getting my frame right. I stood in place as she moved my arms to the proper position, pushing in between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture. After several minutes in the position, I couldn’t help the groan that slipped out, “This is gonna do a number on my back muscles, isn’t it?” 

She snickered, “You will definitely have better posture by the time I’m done with you. Now, elbows up, you should have a horizontal line from elbow to elbow…and hold it there.” 

She then stood in front of me, taking in my form for a moment before manipulating my hands into the proper position. 

Smiling, she nodded in satisfaction as she stepped closer, “Ok, now let’s go over the hold. The hold is important because it’s how we connect…how our bodies communicate movement to lead and follow.” 

As she spoke, she moved closer, placing her arm along the top of my right one and clasping my left hand in hers. She was very matter of fact with her words as her eyes bore into mine. It was almost distracting. 

“I need you to make sure there’s no space between our arms…here, so keep your elbow flush against mine.” She bounced her arm against the top of my right one to emphasize what she meant. “This is an important connection point because I can feel the pressure from your arm, which will tell me how to follow. As for your left hand, keep it at my eye level. We apply pressure here as well for another connection point.”    

All I could do was nod along with her words, completely mesmerized by her intensity. Once she felt we had the hold down, she began to explain the differences in spacing for standard ballroom versus Latin dances. 

“So…in Latin style dances, we’ll have more space between us…like we are now. It gives us more room to move. We’re gonna be slightly offset from each other while maintaining this closed position. Got it?”

I nodded again as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wanted to look at her directly, but I couldn’t. Between her eyes burning into me and the tingling from her touch, I felt like my skin was on fire. I didn’t know what to make of it and it was sort of fucking with my head.

Then she stepped even closer, the front of our bodies nearly flush as she slightly adjusted the position of our arms. I swallowed hard over her proximity and the tangy citrus scent that was now invading my senses. Fuck. I might be in trouble. 

“For standard dances, like the Waltz and Foxtrot, we’re gonna be closer…like this. Our frame will be a little wider and our arms will be positioned slightly lower. We’ll both be looking off to our left instead of directly at each other.”   

I cleared my throat, stepping back slightly, “Sooo…umm…do we look off to the left for Latin dances?” 

Her brows arched as her eyes widened, “Good question. I should have mentioned that. There’s typically more direct eye contact in the Latin dances. It’s actually another form of connection…another way for us to communicate without words.”

She moved back into the Latin dance hold, now making direct eye contact with me. I couldn’t help how my eyes roamed over her face, taking in the minor changes in her expression as she spoke. I wasn’t sure if the close proximity of the standard hold or direct eye contact with the Latin hold was worse. They were both a little overwhelming. 

“Alright, let’s try some steps. We can start with the Rumba.” 

She broke away for a moment to show me the foot movement, then had me give it a try. After a successful attempt, she positioned us back into the Latin hold and we began moving together. Once it seemed we had the footwork down, she backed away with a smirk on her face. 

“You’re actually really good at this, you know. We do need to work on eye contact though.”

I smiled nervously as I looked down at my feet and rubbed the back of my neck, “I’m sorry…I know. Direct eye contact is a little weird for me.” I glanced up at her through my lashes, slightly embarrassed by the admission. 

She smiled and arched a brow in my direction, “Really? I never would have guessed that based on your love scenes.”

My eyes widened. I do not need to think about her watching me dick someone down on screen. Focus, Bravo. I chuckled nervously, “Yeah, I’m not usually looking directly into their eyes during those. I tend to stare between their eyebrows.” 

She gave me a sly smile now, snickering, “Oh, is that why you usually look cross eyed then?” 

My brow furrowed as I gave her a mock look of offense, “I don’t look cross eyed. That’s rude.”

She cackled over my response, “I’m joking. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one of your love scenes to know how your face looks.” 

I scrunched up my nose, “Ouch, ok…so you don’t watch my movies. Got it.” 

Her laugh had simmered to a quiet chuckle now as she lightly smacked my shoulder, “I’ve seen some…just not any with a love scene. So don’t be so offended. I’ve seen those TikTok videos though…they gave me a good idea of what I’m working with.”

I rolled my eyes, “Ugh…those fucking TikTok videos. They’re so bad.”  

I had to admit, it was nice to be joking around with her after all the tension that had built up from yesterday. I took it as a good sign that this might actually go ok. What I didn’t expect was the attraction that I was starting to feel as our day went on. However, the obnoxiously sized engagement ring she wore on her finger helped keep that in check every time I saw it sparkling in the light when she moved. As long as that shiny reminder was there, I would be ok... 

Right?

Next: Week 2

✨FUN FACTS: All cast members on Dancing with the Stars are in fact required to get a weekly spray tan. They also do not get to choose their partners, costumes, music, or themes. They can make recommendations obviously, but the producers do not have to honor the requests. When it comes to pairing partners, the producers do have a "formula".

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to welcome all of my new and old readers! So happy to have you all with me for my next adventure with Dieter Bravo. For the new folks, I'm a sucker for predictions and theories. If you have them, drop them in the comments so we can discuss. Now on to my normal nonsense...how are you guys feeling about the first chapter? How do you feel about Dieter and Kat's first couple of interactions? What about all the characters that were introduced? I'm curious to know who you want to throat punch more, Alec or Stacia? I'm already in love with these two and I can't wait to share more of them. This Dieter is...something else. I love sharing things from his point of view. He is going to be a good time, as expected. Kat is...kind of a mess, but also not? It's been interesting being in her head. How do you see things progressing with these two? Lastly, a quick thank you to @maggiemayhemnj for giving this first chapter a quick read through to make sure all these plot points were introduced in a way that made sense...because seriously, there is a lot going on here. She also found the perfect disco ball looking dividers for this...and I fucking love them. 😘 👉 I did a fun post about Dieter's plant hobby and his furry visitor. Check it out HERE. 👉 In case you missed it, I also did a character introduction post, which you can find HERE. Until next time, 💜 Mysty

Taglist: @secretelephanttattoo @titlee78 @maggiemayhemnj @legendary-pink-dot @linzels-blog @morallyinept @survivingandenduring  @wannab-urs @harriedandharassed @hisandsnakes @misstokyo7love @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @sin-djarin @cakipy-blog @missladym1981 @guelyury @weho2kcmo @alokaerza @girlofchaos @trulybetty @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @jazzloveslatte @timpletance @musings-of-a-rose @samiamproductions @myloveistoolittle @for-a-longlongtime  @copperhalfcent @auteurdelabre @drewharrisonwriter @burntheedges @stevie75 @pedrostories

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Credits: Support/MDNI Dividers: @cafekitsune Disco Divider: @deadbranch

[its-time-to-write]

AH I've been waiting for requests to be open! i love love loveeee your writing!! I've been in dire need (if you feel like writing it lol) of reader comforting jamie after the locker room scene w his dad at wembley.. like maybe instead of roy hugging him the reader swoops in? you do you! thanks!! <3

Listened to 17 Pushing 24 by Sabrina Sterling while writing this. Highly recommend ✌️🥲

i know what i’m doing

Sometimes Jamie wonders if you two are attracted to each other due to your compelling need to take care of everything. 

It certainly was difficult at first, both of you with residual issues due to your upbringing. His as the only son of a single mother, yours as the oldest daughter of a large family. 

Those types of child-caretakers aren’t always compatible. Jamie’s much more lighthearted about the way he tries to control everything, and you’re more serious.

You’d think it would be easier, both of you taking care of each other, except for the small fact that neither of you were capable of accepting help from the other. 

It came to a head one evening when Jamie came home to you crying in the laundry room, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the tasks you had yet to complete before going to bed. 

“Love, I can help you,” Jamie had said.

“No! It’s my laundry and my responsibility and you already have enough to do without me burdening you even more,” you replied before dissolving into more tears. 

So yeah, it was a whole thing. It involved therapy and everything.

But you’re moving past it. You’re both getting to a point where each of you can receive the same love that you’re giving, however strange it may feel. Jamie even let you stay home from work to take care of him when he was sick a couple weeks ago, something that was pretty much unheard of up to this point.

You’re channeling the need to control things in healthy ways, like having all of AFC Richmond over to Jamie’s giant house for potluck-style family dinners. Or hosting non-video game nights, where FIFA is strictly banned as a form of entertainment. Or themed outings where everyone had to dress as something that shared the first letter of their name and then go see a movie at the local theater. 

Stuff like that. 

You’re the brains, Jamie is the execution. You can see Isaac side-eyeing him a couple times, making mental notes about temporary captains in the event that he can’t play a match. 

Jamie’s gone from Richmond’s resident prick to Richmond’s resident morale-booster.

He comes home one evening with brighter eyes than normal.

“Babe,” he calls before he’s even in the door, “Coach said I can go back to being a prick again.”

“Ted said that?” you ask from your spot on the couch. You’re laying down length-wise with your legs dangling off the end.

“Fuck no,” Jamie replies, “Roy.”

“Oh,” you say as Jamie plops his bags down. You sit up a little so he can have a spot on the couch. He pats his lap so you lay back down, head on his thigh.

“Roy said that Ted fucked me up, so ‘when it’s appropriate’” (he uses air quotes) “I can be a prick to the other team.”

“That’s nice, babe,” you say, “but how do you know when to do that?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach said he’d give me a signal. Don’t know what it is, though.”

You say, “hm,” then lapse into comfortable silence, Jamie’s hand running through your hair.

—

The prick signal worked so much better than you could have thought. It’s the best. You see Jamie go from playing defensively to being completely offensive, screwing with the other team’s heads. You scream and clap as he scores, while Keeley practically throttles you with joy.

Now it’s late after the game, and the lads are all over at Jamie’s. They’re absolutely exhausted, but buzzing with energy. It isn’t until about 1am that they disperse to the various guest bedrooms and pass out on top of each other. You catch a glimpse of Dani cuddling Jan Maas who’s asleep in a starfish position as Colin sneaks in to draw on their faces with sharpie. 

“Don’t tell anyone it was me,” he whispers. You zip your lips and head to the master bedroom and pretty much fall onto the right side of the bed.

Jamie comes in shortly after, saying something about Isaac telling a bedtime story. He burrows under the covers and you quietly shriek because he’s placed his ice-cold hands on your ribcage.

“How are you so cold?” you whisper.

Jamie shrugs sleepily. “Dunno,” he whispers back. “Got ice in my veins, I guess.”

You smile. “You’re tired, aren’t you babe?”

Jamie shakes his head and stifles a yawn. “Nah, ain’t tired. Thinkin’ about our match against Man City.”

He says it casually. Too casually.

You see, both you and Jamie have this thing where the more nonchalantly you say something, the more important it is.

You prop yourself up a bit so you can face him and scratch his head. He sighs and leans in.

“You nervous?” you ask.

Jamie shakes his head. “Not to see the team. Lookin’ forward to seeing Pep. It’s just…” he trails off.

You whisper, “Yeah. I know. Whatever happens, I’m here. Don’t forget that. I’m here no matter what.”

Jamie says, “hm,” and then he’s asleep.

—

You’re running. 

You’re running faster than any of the boys on the pitch had run the entire match, and you’re pushing past people in a way that Keeley would later describe as “absolutely fucking feral.”

It happened like this:

The game was over. Richmond lost to Man City.

You were on your way to see Jamie and the rest of the team.

You were, maybe, three floors away? when Rebecca got a text from Ted, showed it to you, and before you knew it you were flying down to the guest locker room to find Jamie.

Of course his dick father would show up to make this day worse. Of course he would.

You’re ducking under security and pushing your way to the locker room in a flurry of motion, then immediately stop.

It’s silent, absolutely silent. 

And so still.

No one moves a muscle as your eyes land on Jamie, clinging to Roy like he’s a lifeline. Roy. Roy Kent, self-proclaimed Jamie-hater and staunch advocate against physical touch.

Jamie’s eyes are squeezed shut, but they flutter open at the sound of your tentative footsteps. He lets go of Roy for a moment, but only so that you can grab him in the next.

“Right,” says Roy, “Everybody get the fuck out!”

There are no complaints as the lads hurriedly grab their bags and exit the locker room.

Roy nods in your direction before leaving, and Beard mouths, “take your time.” You’re not sure where Ted’s gone off to.

Jamie feels like he’s going to collapse if he stands any longer, crushing you in the strongest grip you’ve ever felt.

“Oi,” you say gently, “let’s sit down, yeah? You don’t have to let go.”

So now you’re on the bench in Jamie’s lap, scratching his head in the way he likes, waiting for him to break the silence.

“Fucking stupid,” he says, voice muffled.

You ask, “What?” because surely that can’t be what he just said.

“I said it’s fucking stupid,” Jamie says, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m a fucking adult. Don’t need to be crying about stupid shit, especially not in front of the lads.”

“Oh, right,” you say before you can stop yourself, “because crying after your dick father tried to swing at you when you set boundaries for the first time ever is a completely unreasonable response.”

Jamie is still in your arms and you cringe. Curse your stupid, logical tongue.

Jamie finally says, “Didn’t think about it like that.” He sighs. “It’s just fuckin’ embarrassing, innit? Him showing up here like that. Didn’t need the lads seeing that.”

You kiss his forehead. 

“The only person it’s embarrassing for is him. Not you. You’re absolutely fine, Jaim. If anything, the boys are going to look at you better for finally understanding the shit you had to grow up with.”

Jamie nods, but you’re not sure if he believes you.

“Jamie,” you say firmly, “It’s not your fault. You handled it the best way it could have been handled. You did a great job.”

Those words seem to do something to Jamie, and his face takes on an expression you’ve never seen before

He asks, “You think so?” in such a forlorn manner than you have the sudden urge to find James Tartt and kick him in the balls with steel-toed shoes. You briefly wonder if Roy and Beard would like to join you.

“Yes,” you reply forcefully, “Yes Jamie. You did a wonderful job in a shitty situation and I’m very, very proud of you.”

Jamie doesn’t reply, just holds you tighter if that’s even possible. He takes a deep shuddering breath, but it’s the first real one he’s taken this entire time. 

“I told you I’m here no matter what,” you say. “Just like all the times you’ve been here for me. Now I’m here for you.”

[pinguwrites]

Kinktober 2023 | Day Twenty — Darren/Pig + vanilla, riding

Pairing -> sub!pig x dom!reader

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Warnings: mild degradation, mention of masturbation, pig's sorta innocent, reader takes runt's place, reader's lowkey a little mean, very very mild dub-con (just in case 'cause they're bold with touching and not asking, but they both are into it), sorry for the shitty accent I tried, if it was really bad let me know and I'll try to make it better

Disclaimer: Disco Pigs characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Pig looked at you miserably, feeling a sense of shame wash over him like a cold bucket of water. He hadn’t expected you to hear him, hear his monologue of how he wanted to have sex with you. He should have kept it all in his head, or made sure you weren’t in your room. How was he supposed to know you were on your bed, listening through the hole in the wall?

“Well?” you snapped. “Whaddya have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry!” Pig cried, lower lip wobbling. “M’sorry, Runt! Jus’ wanna express myself.”

What if you decided you didn’t want to be friends anymore? What if you left him? Found him disgusting and dirty? What would he do if you were gone? You were his everything. He would do anything for you. How was he supposed to convince you to stay?

“You couldn’t jus’ tell me?” you said, sitting down on the bed beside him. When he looked away you grabbed his hair and forced him to face you. “You had to be all secret-like. How many times you’ve done this before? Tell me.”

“Few times,” he admitted, trying not to stare at your lips. “Can’t stop thinking about it—me and you, Pig an’ Runt, moaning an’ touch, with my hand ‘round my cock—”

“Touching yourself, Pig?” you asked, a little surprised, but delighted nonetheless. 

If possible, Pig looked even more miserable. “Yes, ma’am.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Pig only called you “ma’am” when he thought you were mad at him, which, to be fair, you were making it seem like you were. It was just so fun teasing him, the poor little thing. You couldn’t resist. 

“Show me,” you demanded, looking down at the area between his legs. “I wanna see your cock.”

With no questions, he immediately unzipped his pants and pulled it out. It was thick and white, soft at the moment, but you could see it growing hard in his hands. You touched it, without asking for permission—he would’ve let you, anyways—and tugged on it, making him whimper.

“Ah, be nice, won’t ya’? Please, Runt.”

“Am being nice. Wanna see me, too?”

Pig’s eyes widened with excitement. “Yes, yes.” His hands went to your skirt and he pulled it up, shoving your panties down so quickly and smoothly you were sure he’d thought about doing this before. 

He bent over and took a whiff, then pressed his finger through your folds. “Smell good,” he commented. “Feel good, too. Little hole.” He wiggled his finger right above your entrance, but you pushed him away, making him frown. “Still mad? No, don’t be mad. Said sorry, yeah? Said sorry and you feel okay now. Right?”

He tried to push back inside but you pushed him away again, and this time, to make clear he got the message, tugged on his cock again. “Just wanna put my finger inside Runt’s hole! You up an’ teasin’ me . . .”

He pulled away completely, accepting your decision. He didn’t dare go against you a third time, not when he was so vulnerable in front of you, so embarrassed, with tears wetting his eyes. 

“Crying now?” you laughed, not bothering to keep it in this time. 

“Too much,” he whined. His cock was now fully hard, with some liquid leaking out the top. 

You shoved him down on the bed, making it slap against his stomach. He waited to see what you were going to do, almost worried, but then you sank his tip into your pussy, and he moaned, lips spread wide in happiness.

“Yes! S’nice. Warm,” he choked. “Need’a see Runt’s tits.”

He groped your chest, feeling for your tits. You didn’t stop him. You were enjoying his touch, and was far too focused on easing the pain you felt as you sunk yourself deeper onto his cock.

Eventually, the stinging feeling subsided, and you started moving, slowly and sensually, with your hands on his body, eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

“Should’a done this sooner, Pig,” you said. “Could’a felt ya’ inside me, all big an’ hard.”

He nodded, dazed.

You rode him, without a care in the world that his mom could walk into his room at any moment, without caring that the bedroom window was cracked open with the lamp inside turned on. All there was was him and you—Pig an’ Runt, the way it was meant to be.

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@meetmeatyourworst

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

[jungle-angel]

Winter Blues (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: It's the time of year when you're not feeling quite yourself, but thank God for your husband

You had come home later than usual after a long week, exhausted beyond all human reasoning and your body screaming for rest.

All week long it had been one thing after another, first with your students and then with having to prep for the holidays and stressful situations outside the home. You felt every last cell in your body screaming for you to rest, your head heavy and aching from the stress.

You parked the truck in the driveway, the snow falling heavily as you stepped out onto the driveway with the last minute supplies for Thanksgiving dinner. The stress had weighed so heavy on your mind that no sooner were you through the door than you cracked. The tears started falling from your eyes as you hung up your coat, scarf, hat and mittens.

Your crying must've been a little more noticeable than you initially thought when you felt a set of arms coiling around your waist and a soft cheek smushed against the back of your head.

"My sweet baby," Bob mumbled. "What's wrong?"

"Oh Bob," you whimpered. "I'm just.....I can't.....I can't right now."

"Shhhh," Bob hushed. "You come with me and get settled. I'll make you a hot mint tea and we'll pop in a movie."

You nodded as he kissed your cheek. He helped you over to the couch where a blanket had been messily tossed aside, no doubt from an afternoon nap he had taken. As soon as you heard the kettle on the stove beginning to whistle, Bob brought in two mugs full of steaming hot peppermint tea, one for you and one for himself.

You told him everything that had happened in your day, even the little things that seemed to be bothering you. You felt a little bad dumping it all on him at once, but you knew he was a good listener who would help you.

"Oh sweetheart," he said wistfully. "Don't let it get to you. I know it's easier said than done, but I don't want you to stress yourself out."

You snuggled a little closer to him, his warm body comforting and soothing like the mint tea you had both been drinking. "I know I shouldn't stress myself out like that but....."

"Hey," Bob said reassuringly. "You know I love you even when you're stressed out right?"

You nodded.

"So come here and lets get cozy," he said, drawing you closer and kissing your head.

Bob switched on a movie and when it began playing you laughed a little. "Really Bob?" you chuckled. "Isn't it a little too early for us to be watching Christmas Vacation?"

"It's never too early for a Christmas movie sweetheart," he said happily, gently stroking the back of your neck and pressing a sweeet kiss to your lips.

You both laughed throughout the movie, quoting it back and forth until you forgot the troubles of the day, the both of you warm and cozy under the covers and falling into the deepest sleep you could have imagined.

[heeheesang]

ɾiȥȥɱαƚch | flowers and love.

(pretty lengthy chapter..!)

and that’s how we ended up in the restaurant together..! we were sitting opposite of each other, just laughing about the past five days and sharing our daily life. i felt a burst of emotions whenever i see him smiling and laughing, the way his full teeth would be shown, sometimes his gum as well, his cute gummy smile. the way he would sweep his hair back as well.

“young man, are you ready to get the bill?” the waitress, who looked maybe a year or two older than us, asked riki as she put her hand on top of riki’s.

i side eyed the waitress, what was she doing? riki smirked and kept his eyes on me, “my girlfriend and i will let you know when we’re ready to pay.”

the waitress gave me on kind of a look before rolling her eyes and letting out a loud ‘tsk’.

“girlfriend… really?” i playfully rolled my eyes as riki giggled, calling for the male waitress nearby for the bill. we fought over who should pay but in the end, riki paid because, and i quote, “a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to take your wallet out when you’re on a date.”

soon enough, we decided to just take a short walk around a festival nearby. i was listening to him talk about his project and how the whole project happened. i paid close attention and looked up to him with a wide smile as he continued talking.

not long later, we were told there was going to be a short fireworks show at sunset. and not even a minute after that, riki excused himself to go to the toilet. i was left alone and i found a good swing nearby where the view of fireworks would be seen perfectly, i texted riki that it was almost sunset and that i was waiting for him at the swing.

“miss, the show is about to start soon. are you waiting on someone..? if not i have a seat empty next to me.” a guy, looks around my age, asked as he smiled.

i gently shook my head, “i’m waiting for someone.. thank you for the offer though..!”

“well, i hope you both enjoy the show.” he said and bowed with a smile as he ran back to his friends.

riki where are you… it’s a minute til sunset…

i was about to take my phone out to call riki when he suddenly appeared behind me, “sorry i took so long princess, i was getting these..!”

he handed me my favourite churros and sat down on the swing next to me. he had his arm wrapped around my shoulder and my head leaned against his shoulder. soon, the countdown for the fireworks started.

as soon as the fireworks show started, i jolted up. i was amazed, i had never seen fireworks before so i was pretty fascinated. the loud sounds were one thing, but the colours popping up in the sky..? that was even more amazing. i was too focused on the fireworks that i didn’t even realise everyone was looking at me, and riki.

wait, where’s riki..?! i was frantically looking around but then he suddenly appeared from behind yet again, but with a flower this time… my mouth was left wide open, he had someone holding a big board asking, “will you be my girlfriend, lee yn?”

i covered my mouth as lights suddenly appeared out of nowhere surrounding us.

“you’ve made me the happiest guy the past five— coming to six— months. i feel like i changed for the better all thanks to you. i actually like— no love, i love you so much that i’m pretty sure you’re what i asked for from god. you were literally sent down from heaven, for me. it’s been a short six months but you’ve made it so eventful, you always had me hooked on to you. your ideas and plans of hanging out. i know this sounds like a proposal but, lee yn, will you be my girlfriend..?” riki said as tears gathers in my eyes, is this really happening..?

i didn’t want to make him worried because i started crying so much due to joy, “yes nishimura riki, yes i will.”

with that, he passes me the flowers and hugs me tightly, releasing from the hug every once and then to wipe my tears. the crowd around us were cheering and screaming as the fireworks went off at the back.

what a day.

masterlist | back | next

ᝰ.ᐟ hhs' notes! sorry for the lengthy chapter 😥 last four chapters :(

taglist— @illvding @mxxnintheskyreblogs @whoiss4m @yoonzns @lukesboo @shewoop @yourgirlzeyy @yourssincerely-mimi @wonkixo @sol3chu @n1k1mura @nctsshoes2 @dimplewonie @kookify @rikisgeef @ilovejeongin007 @nan-lzzn @speedymiraclecloud @pkjay @wk20 @soobs-things @nyfwyeonjun @rairaiblog @realrintaro

[luveline]

For the zombie AU with Steve, maybe a night of survival in the cold? Reluctant cuddling, bonding?

YESSSS tysm for ur request i owe u my life

You pull your coat closed around your middle and shiver.

"Come here," Steve says, tucking the map under his arm.

You move to stand in front of him because he's slipped into his caretaking tone. A nice change. Usually he's just mildly annoyed.

He takes the zipper of your coat into his hand and scolds as he tries to fix it for the fiftieth time today. It's awful timing for it to break because it's cold as winter and you're on the road. A fire, as you've learned, would be a mistake. You close your eyes at the thought of such blistering warmth and listen to him cuss under his breath.

"Sorry," you say eventually. His quiet makes you nervous.

"Not your fault, just..." He gives up and steps away from you. "Bad timing."

You hide your hands in your sleeves.

"Maybe we should stop anyways. We're not exactly moving fast," he says bitterly.

You like the sound of that.

There's a tarp at the bottom of your backpack for occasions like this. You shed your bag and dig for it as Steve drops his own. It's not great, your having to carry blankets with you — they're heavy and take up a lot of space — but it's worse to freeze to death outdoors.

The sun creeps down low in the horizon lazily. You think it's as reluctant to go as you are for it to dissapear, its rays the only thing keeping the tip of your nose from freezing and falling off, no doubt.

You search for a stick. It's harder than it sounds.

Steve doesn't like walking along the road and you don't blame him, often there's cars or bikes weaving through the carcasses of cars picked clean, so you hide in the tree bank. A road block or something similar to the south must've broken recently, and the sound of engines revving at night gets more frequent. Better to stay hidden, even if finding somewhere to camp at night proves difficult.

The stick is necessary to build a makeshift tent, but the trees here are all spindly and thin-branched.

You return triumphant with something just long enough to keep the tarp from your bodies to find Steve's already found a better, chunkier stick and established a camp.

"Don't tell me, or anything. Just let me look for sticks for an hour."

"Your perception of time is getting worse."

"Some of us don't wear watches, 'cos we aren't rich, privileged babies."

He actually manages to laugh at that one, which is odd. It's one of the weakest insults you've ever thrown at him.

"That was bad," he says.

Oh. He's laughing at you.

"Jerk."

"What do you want? I have tinned peaches or a chocolate granola bar-"

"Obviously the granola-"

"With laxatative properties," he finishes, holding it between his fingers like a guy from the commercials. He shakes it at you enticingly.

"I'm not that hungry."

"Too bad."

You both sit near the makeshift tent in your heavy clothes. Steve stretches the blanket over your legs with a warning, "If you get peach juice on this I'm not gonna talk to you till Michigan."

You take the open can of peaches and pretend to tip it toward the blanket. "Don't tempt me, Harrington."

You have to keep talking because if you don't you'll cry. Really cry. Eating dinner like this from a can in a bed of leaf litter makes you want to cry. Every mouthful is sweet and sticky and your eyes get heavy with tears.

Steve understands what you're like by now. "I really fucking hate peaches," he says grandly. "I know you're surprised."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"No?"

"Do guys eat fruit?"

It's a talent.

"'Do guys eat fruit?'" he quotes seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him.

He leans back against his rucksack and crosses his arms behind his head. He could be shooting the breeze, that's how relaxed Steve Harrington looks.

You laugh reluctantly into the can of peaches as you take a little sip of the juice and almost choke.

"I gotta eat that too, you know? Don't spit in it."

"Sorry," you say genuinely, wiping your sticky face with the back of your hand.

"You should be. Gross." He doesn't sound very bothered.

Steve eats his own peach slices with a shiver and tosses the can overhead. It goes really far, hitting the base of a tree across the way. You can imagine him in his gym clothes rather than what he wears now. Prim yellow shorts. Clean gym t-shirt with his name written in pen across the front.

"You can sleep first," he says.

You don't argue, sliding under the tarp with your blanket.

It's easier like this. The sun hasn't quite set but there's really nothing else to do. You'll sleep, Steve will wake you up in a couple of hours and then you'll swap. You'll wake Steve up when the sun rises, and another day on the road will begin.

The floor is very, very cold.

You try your best to stop from shivering and bring the blanket up to cover your face. The sun goes down and the last of its heat goes with it.

You stick it out. Complaining won't make it warmer. Steve doesn't even have a blanket.

"Y/N?" he whispers.

Leaves shift.

"Are you awake?"

You lift your head to see him where he sits at the opening of the 'tent'. It's difficult to make out his features now.

"I can hear your teeth," he says, eyes impassive as they scour your face.

"S-s-sorry," you shudder.

He stares at you for a while before stretching out his legs and shuffling across the dirt toward you. His hands are like ice as he works them under your shoulders and arms, dragging you into his lap.

You're tired and cold. "Steve," you grumble miserably, "what are you doing?"

"Body heat."

He doesn't stop until you're settled, slouching down so you can lean comfortably against his chest. He pulls the ends of your coats together tightly, readjusts your blanket, and covers your hands with both of his.

He yanks the tarp down and covers you with that, too, the both of your engulfed in plastic.

"What if it rains?" you ask.

"On our frozen corpses, you mean?"

You cringe and turn in his arms to hide your face in his scratchy jacket. His head drops toward his chest, chin gracing the top of your head. It's like a hug. It is a hug. You wrap your arms around his waist and try not to think about it.

It's not the most comfortable position in the world. Your back doesn't quite want to turn right, and his thigh probably hurts from your left elbow. Honestly, it's a pretty pathetic excuse for a hug.

"Why don't you just lie down with me?" you say into his coat.

"And get eaten?"

"There's no geeks around here."

"You say that," he murmurs, hands beginning a slow journey down the length of your back, "and then I'll wake up missing one of my legs."

Using the tarp as a blanket was a good idea. Already you feel warmer. Your face defrost where it's hidden in his front.

"Anymore stupid questions tonight?" Steve asks, voice low and amicable.

"Har-har," you mumble.

He rubs your back. Your eyes well up and you bite your lip to stop from crying. It's really, stupidly nice to be close to someone, to him. You miss comfort and music and eating enough, but you miss hugs most of all. You miss hugs from the people who loved you.

"Do you like me?" you whisper.

As soon as you've asked, you wish you hadn't. He doesn't answer, and you think Good, he didn't hear me.

"No more stupid questions," he says finally, tightening his grips on you. "Go to sleep."

-

more steve zombie!au

[she-wolf09231982]

Foxhole Imagines

Sharing a foxhole with your favorite 101st Airborne Easy Company paratrooper while in Bastogne.

Featuring:

Joe Liebgott

Bill Guarnere

Joe Toye

Eugene Roe

Shifty Powers

Don Malarkey

George Luz

Floyd Talbert

Carwood Lipton

Bull Randleman

🪖♠️🦅~~~~~~~🦅♠️🪖

Bull Randleman

The man is built like a bear, it’s no problem keeping you warm.

When shells and debris are flying, he’s shielding you when he’s not watching the line.

“Stay down, darlin’!”

When you insist getting on the line to help, he protests.

“Damn, woman! Don’tchya listen!?”

When it’s over, he’s pulling you into him in that foxhole apologizing for yelling at you.

Carwood Lipton

Keeps it professional, even though he wants to let you huddle up onto him to get warm.

Your shoulder to shoulder sitting in the foxhole together.

You talk about the funny stuff Luz said, stories from home, his favorite baseball team, your favorite movie, and what Christmas is like where you’re both from.

When the Germans attack, you’re both on the line firing back.

When he rushes out of the hole to make sure everyone is taking cover, you lay cover fire for him so he doesn’t get hit.

If you dare leave that hole after him, you won’t hear the end of it.

He doesn’t want anything happening to you at his expense.

George Luz

Jokes, impressions, and laughing the entire time.

Always getting out to find snacks or bum cigarettes from the other guys.

Always willing to share with you when he gets back.

Quotes his favorite movies to you then goes into detail why those scenes are his favorites.

When chaos hits, your both firing back occasionally calling out to eachother over the noise.

“You ok??” “Ya!! You??” “Fucking good!” 👍

Floyd Talbert

When it’s slow and quiet, he 100% cannot keep his hands off you.

Uses “staying warm” as an excuse to pull you onto him.

If you let him, he’d have his way with you in that foxhole.

He’s an adrenaline junkie and getting some in his foxhole would be so fucking hot to him.

When Germans start acting up, he’s on the line, telling you to stay down.

After everything dies down, he’s still amped up.

Pulls multiple branches over the foxhole.

He gets back into the foxhole, “Pants. Off. NOW.”

Don Malarkey

He’s got stories for days.

Has rooted Irish pride, so he’s got Irish history and culture to educate you about.

Potatoes.

I feel he likes to hook arms with his ladies. He’ll have you hook his arm so you can lay your head on his shoulder.

When shit hits the fan, you got eachother’s backs.

He’ll look back at you when he can to make sure you’re doing ok.

If being Catholic taught him anything, it was to never take loved ones for granted.

He’s hugging you so hard after everything calms down.

Shifty Powers

He’s definitely talking about home.

Telling you how much of a better shot his dad is than him.

You try to convince him that he must be just as good since his dad taught him.

Tries to give you tips and tricks how to be a better rifleman/woman.

When an attack occurs, you’re on the line with him as he calls out to you to watch your sector of fire.

You’re not getting hurt on his watch.

Compliments you on how good you’re getting with the rifle.

“You’re going to get better than me some day!” 🥰

Joe Toye

He’s got an arm around you any chance he’s got in that foxhole.

Not very shy or afraid of anything, he’s sneaking kisses and caressing the sensitive parts of your hips and thighs.

“Nobody’ll see anything.” 😉

He’s not as pushy as Tab, so he settles for cuddles to stay warm.

He will not tolerate harm coming to his girl.

You’re ordered to stay put while he’s on the line firing at Germans when things flare up.

He’s back to holding you when everything is over.

“I gotchyu, doll.”

Bill Guarnere

Busting your chops most of the time.

Tells you about all the best places to eat back home.

Affectionately nudges you every now and then to show you he wants some attention.

Will not allow you to stand when conflict fires up.

If you don’t do what he says, he’s almost in tears from anger that something could’ve happen to his girl.

He’s not much for PDA, but he’ll kiss you when you promise to listen to him next time. (Because there’s always a next time)

Eugene Roe

He’s a gentleman sitting with you in the foxhole.

Shares his blanket with you.

He blushes hard when you suggest snuggling up to share body heat.

Hesitantly puts his arms around you to pull you into his chest.

You’ll hear his heartbeat thumping against his ribcage like a drum.

When he has to scamper out that hole to help the guys, you are providing cover fire so nobody hits your man.

When the rush is over, he returns to you afterwards, laying his head on your chest for comfort after the horrors he’s had to see.

Doesn’t hesitate to squeeze your torso to bring you as close together as possible.

Joe Liebgott

Loves sharing his foxhole with you…he gets to have you all to himself.

Will randomly ask for a kiss whenever you’re talking about something.

Of course talks about comic books he’s read and the ones he can’t wait to read.

Always wants you “on” him somehow.

Your head on his chest, on his lap, on his shoulder…leaves you zero personal space.

Has to be touching you somehow.

Shoulders leaning into eachother when you sit together, boots touching when your legs are straight out.

When the “Krauts” start up, you’re side by side firing back at them.

When everything is over with, he’s frantically looking you over making sure you’re ok.

“You sure you’re ok?? If something’s fucking wrong, you tell me, got it?”

When you insist you’re ok, he’s caressing and kissing your face all over.

“That’s my girl.”

🪖♠️🦅~~~~~~~🦅♠️🪖

@wordsaresimple-imnot not quite the ‘Foxhole Fantasies’ we were talking about but this was just practice. 😮‍💨😉

[beaniebeensbaby201]

Neteyam x enemies to lovers Omotacaya reader

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY WORK

Summary; Reader and Neteyam's parents don't get along. Her father doesn't like Jake as he has known him since he was working with the enemy. He had been holding a grudge since he had been using them. So Neteyam and the reader have to sneak around in order to be together without getting caught by their parents.

Neteyam is 19, and reader is 18

The sun was beginning to set as Neteyam's parents were setting the kids ready for bed. Neteyam waited for his family to fall asleep so he could see her. He knew the risks if both of their parents found out they were together.

Their parents didn't get along, as their fathers would always butt heads together. Her father was a warrior, he was forced to listen to his fathers orders as he was the Olo'eyktan, and Toruk Macto.

Her father was jealous, as he was just a mighty warrior that fought alongside Taruk Macto. The young couple would always meet by the bioluminescent river, just a little aways from the Sacred tree. They were almost twenty years old.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." The young Na'vi girl teased.

The boy just smirked as he yanked her tail lightly as he sat down next to her on a log.

Her blue skin glowed from the river, her face littered with white spots that looked like stars. She respected his family, unlike her parents they did not like the Sully's.

"I wish our parents didn't have us involved in their feud." The girl lays her head on the boy's shoulder.

"It's not fair to us, I mean they'll want to know who we're going to mate with. Tomorrow is our ceremony, we get to make the bow from the hometree and we get to choose our mates for life. But my parents already gave me the 'do not choose the Sully Boy', talk." She air quotes, and her voice depends to mock her father.

"It is our lives, our choice. I see you, and only you. We've been hiding this from our parents for two years, my siblings have been a great help with lying for me, so I didn't get caught. You and Kiri have a strong bond, a friendship that not even our parents can destroy. You and Lo'ak are the best hunters, and you are my right hand woman. You're the only one I want to be my Tsahik." Y/n starts to tear up as her face hides in his neck as she sobs.

"Why can't my father accept the fact that he will never be a Olo'eyktan?" Neteyam says nothing as he pushes a chunk of hair behind her ears.

He loved seeing her hair out of there usual braids, as she had that natural curl from them. She would have her hair down at night, as she likes to do different braids every day.

Y/n's younger sister who was only two years younger was searching for her as their parents were looking for her.

"Y/n!" The couple quickly looked at each other when they heard a voice shout for her name.

"Is that y/s/n?" She whispers, looking at the forest trying to spot a shadow of her sister.

"Neteyam!" The two quickly got up and started to run.

Their families were searching for them, only for the couple to bump into something, or more like someone.

"C'mon lemur boy!" Y/n shouted as Neteyam was falling behind as they jumped in the trees.

"Seriously?" He calls out as she calls him by his nickname.

But they continued to run, only for them to stop when they were caught.

"How many times do we have to tell you that you can not be together?" Jake scolds, the only thing that both parties agreed on.

"With all due respect sir, this is my father's doing. He can not except the fact that he is not Taruk Macto, or that you were a human that is now the leader. He's jealous and can't get it over his head." Jake tries not to smile, as he goes wide eyed. But her father held anger in his eyes, if looks could kill she'd run as far as she could if she wanted to.

"We have decided who we chose to mate with. We're in love with each other mother, I love him. He loves me." Y/n grabs Neteyam's hand, as he gives her a proud smile.

"I will be a Sully, take his last name. Learn to be a Tsahik, you can not take this away from me mother, father." She looks between both of her parents.

"Jake is the only one who could accept it, wanting to bring peace. All you want is to hate him. I will always choose Neteyam, no matter how hard you threaten, or try to keep me away from him." Her father sighs as Jake places a hand on the shorter Na'Vi's shoulder. She looked up at him and he had a look of pride on his face.

"We can't keep them from each other y/f/n. This has to end, make a Truce, you can't hold this grudge forever." Y/n's mother spoke, the two women were standing near each other.

The father continues to stay silent, as the family stares at him for a response.

He walks away, he was mad at the fact that his daughter had chosen a boy that she was told not to fall for. He knew he would lose, as she was stubborn. Y/n turns to Neteyam and places her lips against his. She wraps her arms around his neck as he places his hands on her waist.

"I love you Neteyam." She whispers, they were alone as they left them by themselves.

The two young Na'Vi's no longer have to hide their love.

[emitheduck]

Hey sorry if you don’t know if you’ve seen Grey’s Anatomy it, but if you do, can you write a Spencer Reid x reader! Where they’ve been engaged for a long time but they kept having to push the wedding back so like Meredith and Derek they literally get married on a post it 💀and like the teams reaction and stuff

A/N: i absolutely LOVE this request, and I wish it didn’t get buried in my inbox because i love greys so much and this is just too cute (also im not stealing if i use quotes from greys that’s just, what this request is)

MASTERLIST

–

“Dammit, how many times are we going to get another invite you your wedding?” Emily snapped, slamming down the invite right onto Spencers desk, causing his coffee to spill over the sides of the mug. 

“Listen, I know we’ve had to reschedule it a few times–” Spencer started to answer, before Derek interrupted him with a laugh.

“A few times? You guys have changed the date at least three different times.” Derek said, shaking his head before going back to look down at his work. “If you don’t want to get married, why don’t you just, not get married?”

(Y/n) walked over, frowning as she looked over at Spencer, clearly tears in her eyes. “The venue just called. A water pipe blew, and they’re not going to be ready on the date, we’ll have to reschedule again.” She said to him quickly, running to the breakroom before he could get a chance to console her. 

Spencer looked up at Emily, deciding it was a good time to both help his fiance and also run away from her. “(Y/n), it’s okay, we can find another venue, or we can even try for a different day!” He told her, sighing when he saw her. She was sitting down at the table, head in hands and sobbing. “I just wanted our wedding to be special, and we’ve had to reschedule three different times now. I’m so sorry.” She said to him between sobs.

“Hey, look at me.” He told her softly, reaching over and gently raising her chin with his palm. “I love you, and no venue is going to even change that.” He paused, rifling through his pockets. “Here. Let’s get married.”

(Y/n) looked at him, confused as he slapped down a stack of Post-It’s on the table in front of them. “What’s that going to do?”

“I want to be with you forever, and you want to be with me forever. And if we want to do that, we’re going to need to write down some vows.” Spencer smiled, reaching over and grabbing a pen off the breakroom table. “Look, these Post-its are blue and brand new, I’m borrowing this pen and I’m sure it’s old; we have everything we need.”

She felt like she would cry again, not from being upset that their wedding had been changed three times, but the feeling he was willing to ignore all of that and still marry her–still love her. “What should we write?” She asked, taking the end of her sleeve to dry her eyes.

Spencer paused, looking down at the little square of paper. “We promise to love each other, even if we hate each other.” He said, writing it down as she nodded.

“We take care of each other no matter what.” (Y/n) told him, watching him write it down. “No running. You’re stuck with me.”

“More like, you’re stuck with me.” He teased as he wrote it down. “One last one. It’s forever. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He said, feeling his cheeks heat up as he created two signature lines on the paper. “I, Spencer Reid, am signing his and agreeing to these vows.” He said as he handed her the pen.

(Y/n) smiled, taking the pen from him. “I love you so much. I truly never thought I would find someone who understands me, and you still surprise me every day.” She told him, signing her name on the line. 

Spencer leaned down, pulling her closer to himself to kiss her. His hands finding their way to the small of her back while hers rested on his shoulder. They both pulled away, flushed and teary eyed. “Now, we will go to city hall, make this official. And one day, we will be able to have an actual ceremony; but none of that stuff even matters because you’re my wife.”

The two walked out of the breakroom hand-in-hand. “Hey does anyone want to come with us? Pretty sure we need two witnesses if we wanted to get married at city hall?” Without even more explanation, they weren’t joined by two witnesses; but by the entire team. 

“So you both got married on a Post-it note?” Penelope asked as she read over the small piece of paper. “I’ll have to get you guys a frame for this or something. I don’t want anyone to think it’s trash.”

“We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Spencer smiled, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to his new wife’s cheek.

MASTERLIST

[razorblade180]

Dragonslayer Week Day2: Nintendo

Yang:*listening to music*

Aggressive knocking

Blake:You gonna get that?

Yang:I don’t know. Last time I heard a knock that fierce there was Nora covered in food and the approaching sound of a very angry Goodwitch.

Blake:What if JNPR is back from their mission?

Yang:Jaune would’ve called.

Jaune: *knocks again* Hello? Anyone there?

Yang’s eyes widen as she basically teleports to the door knob, fixing her hair right before she opens the door to see Jaune holding a sizable bag. Before he could say anything, Yang gave him a big hug.

Yang:What happened to calling beforehand!?

Jaune:It’s hard to surprise you, so I took the opportunity!

Yang:How did the mission go? Seems pretty well. Did the client gift goodie bags or something?

Jaune:I’d say this is pretty big for a goodie bag, don’t ya think?

Yang:Maybe it’s a testament to your job?

Jaune:If only. Nora was on a roll out there. Anyway, this is actually something I bought for you in town! Granted, with money from the job.

Yang:Really? Hehe, you didn’t have to get me anything.

Jaune:You say that, but…haven’t you been hinting towards a certain thing you wanted? “Something we could do together that may bewitch me.” Are your terribly corny words.

Yang:*red* You didn’t…

She quickly grabbed the bag from his hands. It was a little heavier than expected but that didn’t stop her from yanking out to gift. A gasp left her as she realized it was two boxes and the bold letters on them.

Yang:A N- You bought two Nintendo Switches

Jaune:Yeah! Now we can even play online together when we aren’t around.

Yang:Jaune that’s so expensive.

Jaune:It would be, but Ren didn’t mind pitching in a little for my copy if it meant he was free from cooking for two weeks. Anyways, I hope you like the gift.

Yang:I- this…guilt!

Jaune:*kisses cheek* Don’t feel bad. I like spoiling you when I can. Anyways, I really need to shower and take a nap. We’ll set them up later. *leaves*

Yang:…..

Blake:…Your hint was a Switch, right?

Yang:Yes, it was a switch.

Blake:…*looks at Weiss*

Weiss: *watching the chaos* Yang, I swear to all that is sane, were you referring to the console, or the whip.

Yang:*covers face* I didn’t mean for this to happen.

Weiss:What I hate most about this is while I completely understand Jaune’s reasonable logic, the moment he quoted you I knew something was wrong. How dare you make me say this. Ya don’t deserve him. Two! He bought two to play games with you!

Yang:I wanted to play games too…

Blake and Weiss:Not the kind he thought of!

Yang:*tearing up* Please help me reimburse him for at least one. I feel so bad.

Weiss:No. put on your shoes and say goodbye to any bike upgrades. You’re doubling down buying the accessories for both consoles.

Yang:Okay…

[starlightshadowsworld]

Tw attempted self harm and child abuse.

No one really grasped how bad Atsushi's childhood was for a long time.

They could make deductions based on how he acted and recalling how they met.

Atsushi seemed rather tightlipped about the whole thing. Dropping an occasional clue but no one pried.

They all had pasts they'd rather not talk about.

It wasn't until one day when Atsushi had messed up on an important mission.

Kunikida was scolding him for it and fixing the bookcase that had been damaged.

Dazai was supposed to be fixing it but well it's Dazai so Kunikida was just multitasking.

Atsushi looking down in shame and embarrassment. And than Kunikida, finishing his lecture hands Atsushi the hammer to finish the shelf off.

And Atsushi freezes.

His mind goes blank. All Atsushi knows is that he's in trouble, has been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the Agency to realise how worthless he is.

And now there's a hammer in his hand.

"Well, go on we don't have all day." Says Kunikida, impatiently.

Atsushi really doesn't want to do this. He couldn't do it when he was 11 and he knows he can't do it now. Tears are in his eyes but he won't dare let them fall.

He won't run from this.

Kunikida and the rest of the Agency have been so kind to him. They've done so much, put up with all the messes that have happened because of him.

If this is what they want, than it's what Atsushi deserves.

So he sinks to the floor, takes off his shoe and holds the nail in shaking hands.

He brings the hammer down only for someone to grab his arm. Atsushi looks up and sees Kunikida looking at him in horror.

And it's not just him.

Dazai, who was on the other end of the office is now before Atsushi.

He takes the hammer and nail out of his hands, staring them down like they've personally offended him. And dumping them in the tool box in the corner.

"Atsushi, are you alright?" Asks Kunikida, concerned. Atsushi's confused. This wasn't how he expected this to go at all.

Why was no one yelling at him?

Why was there no burning pain in his foot?

Maybe Kunikida wanted to punish him himself, but than why let Dazai take the tools away?

"Why did you stop me?" Is what Atsushi says instead. The concern only growing on both his mentors faces. "You were going to hurt yourself." Says Kunikida and Atsushi laughs, it's panicked and startled.

"Yeah? So? I messed up."

Kunikida frowns "have you done this before, when you've 'messed up'?" Atsushi doesn't really get the air quotes but nods.

"I found some sweets, I mean I stole the sweets. And the Headmaster told me to nail my foot to the floor. But I couldn't do it so he did it."

Horror and understanding fills Kunikida's eyes. Dazai is standing nearby, an unreadable expression on his face.

"So when I told you off and gave you the hammer, you thought...." He trails off, shaking his head.

"Atsushi, while you did make a mistake it was just that a mistake. We all make them, some more than others. And no matter how bad or how little, you will never be hurt for it."

Atsushi frowns, confused "you won't?" Dazai nods, sitting beside them. "Never, you will never be hurt by us." He looks at Atsushi directly. "If Kyouka messed up on a mission, would you want us to hurt her?"

He shakes his head, horrified and Dazai smiles. "Exactly, and that applies to you." Kunikida nods "I will tell you off and than we will dicuss where to go next. That is all, I will never raise a hand against you."

Tears fill Atsushi's eyes, he'd expected cruelty and was met with nothing but kindness. "Come here" Says Kunikida, opening his arms and Atsushi practically dives into them.

Dazai chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "I don't deserve this" whispers Atsushi but they both hesr him. "I'm afraid, that's not for you to decide." Says Dazai, gently. "You've been outvoted" agrees Kunikida.

And for once Atsushi decides to listen to them and just enjoys the feeling of being held.

He doesn't notice Dazai and Kunikida exchange looks. That they are going to find whoever did this to Atsushi, and make them pay.

Atsushi didn't realise it, but he was family. And no one hurt their family and got away with it.