#their main question is always DO YOU HAVE AN ACCENT

[im-sorry-what-ii]

switching my google doc from a cute lil fic to my cover letter hits like a slap in the face

[kakusu-shipping]

What if I did another F/O take over event for February? For my birthday? But this time instead of it being every F/O it was only the Ideal Polycule? Would y’all interact with that? Just askin

[pia-nor481]

She Looks Like a Star- Chapter One

Multidriver x reader (mostly Oscar this chapter)

With the growth of her fan base she decides it’s best to join a big company, what she didn’t expect was how scary it was actually going to be.

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She was nervous walking down the hall, wearing obnoxiously loud heels and a tight skirt, not sure how to feel while wearing what was unusual attire for her. Typically she spent her time in lounge wear, lingerie or nothing so having to wear business smart clothes was a little unnerving. Every few steps she looked at the document in the open folder, trying to find the correct room for the meeting she was supposed to be sat in, in about twenty minutes.

With her head pointed down and her mind in a whole other world she walked straight into a man in the dark hallway. "I'm so sorry, are you alright?" She was momentarily stunned by the Australian accent. "Yes, I'm fine, I should have been looking where I was going." After overcoming her bashfulness she looked up, and was met with a sweet smile, only then did she acknowledge the hand on her waist, keeping her steady. "Are you sure, It seems quite hard to walk in those shoes." He said in a lower volume, looking her up and down. Only now was she able to take him in; His messy brown hair, unusually pale skin considering his accent and the tight navy blue t-shirt showing off his strong arms. She was so taken aback that her only reply to the question was a quick nod. "I'm Oscar by the way. I think we'll be working together at some point soon." She smiled finally gathering her things and straightening out her clothes. "It's nice to meet you Oscar." 

"I'm still pretty new around here, but I have a year of navigation experience on you so...Where are you trying to go?" He asked, taking the folder from her arms, trying to save her from carrying too much. "Board room two. I'm supposed to be meeting Christian to discuss my contract and well the logistics of working here." Oscar let out a quiet 'Ah', hooking his arm through hers. "It might help walking in the right direction." He gently laughed, turning around. Her face became warm as they walked. "Don't worry, my first day was a complete mess. I was locked out of the building, seriously late to my first meeting and I waited at the wrong set for about twenty-five minutes. So you're actually starting quite well." Her nerves eased slightly, she could tell Oscar wasn't a particularly chatty person but it was clear how hard her was trying to almost comfort her. "So where did you work before coming here, I'm sorry to say that I don't think I recognise you. Then again I'm not really a big viewer." He said almost shamefully, not realising before he started speaking that it could very easily be taken in an offensive way. "No, no it's okay. I didn't really work with a big company, I did more amateur and home-shot videos. I'm guessing you worked for another company before?" She was unsure as to why it was almost embarrassing that she made all her content on her own. "Yeah, I worked for a smaller company for quite a while actually. You must be pretty talented to make those videos on you're own, especially if it meant you've landed a spot here." Oscar spoke with a sense of excitement during the latter half of the sentence. She looked down as she spoke, entrusting Oscar with fully guiding her. "I now this place is one of the best, but why did you leave you're last company?" Oscar sighed just thinking about it. "I had almost no autonomy. There were certain things I wanted to do, not just because I enjoyed it, but because it makes for a good watch too. But they always shut me down with out even considering it." Oscar seemed genuinely sad about it, she quickly spoke up, questioning how awful that must have been. "Yeah, it was really annoying. But a lot of the videos were scripted like that corny rubbish with the awful acting you usually see with ads. That was the worst. Although you won't fully escape that here, that's one of Sebastian's favourites to film." He laughed at the end. 

"Oscar, stop boring the poor girl." She looked up to see Christian pen in hand standing outside of what she assumed to be bored room two. "Alright, alright I'll go." Oscar said smiling, passing her folder back. "Don't forget you have a scene wit Lando today." Christian shouted towards him. "I know, set room four." 

"Sorry about him." Christian said, guiding her into the room. "So I'm sure you've read the terms and conditions regarding pay and so on. But I do want to elaborate on what would be you're schedule with us. I'm aware and happy that you will continue to film and post you're own content in you're own hours. So here you will be filming a minimum of three videos a week, and a least one of them must be with another actor here, and a maximum of nine, Of course we do not expect or require you to reach that number. So dates, ideas, sets and time allocation need to be made at least three weeks in advance, four weeks if you require and permits or new equipment of any kind. In addition to this, you will be meeting the other actors today and you will be doing a scene with one of them next week. We will have an additional meeting regarding that and what we call a logistics meeting with the other actor to ensure everyone is on the same page." One of the main things she took away from that was how much Christian was able to talk with needing to take a breath, the other was how much work would actually go into this job. "Right, I'm happy with all of that." She spoke rather quietly. "Great. You will also be meeting a few members of the production team, mainly the camera and sound crew which Toto is in charge of." She nodded swiftly as he continued to explain how the company works and what would be happening in the future.

"So you will need to sign here...here...and here." She did so and looked back up waiting to be told what was happening next. "So you have you're own private room here, it's like an office with a bed and a wardrobe. You will be added to the schedule and as you now have your company email feel free to join in and ask questions when needed. So any last questions?" At this point she was feeling a tad overwhelmed but was happy with the outcome. "No, all is good." She spoke with a small smile, slowly standing up. "Wonderful. I'll see you on Tuesday for the next meeting." They shook hands before she left and as soon as she was out of the room and the door was close, she let out a particularly loud sign of relief. Only now did she realise how taxing this could be

She made quick work of finding her office, initially struggling with the key before placing all of her belongings on the desk. She sat down taking a deep breath deciding it would be best to log in and check what he schedule was for next week. Tuesday she had a meeting with all of the actors, directors and some members of the logistics team to discuss the increase in shooting hours for the next set of holidays and what ideas would be used for those videos. That same day she had a meeting with Christian and Charles about their scene on the 14th. She was more shocked than she should have been. Already she was supposed to be shooting, she didn't even know what he looked like and yet she needed to come up with an idea for the video, and be able to put into words what her limits actually were. Before there was no need to plan ahead so much. She could just put on a pretty outfit, turn on the camera and have fun. Now it felt all too much, as though it was more than a fun and paying pastime. She was quick to shoot up upon hearing the knock at the door. "It's just me." Oscar shouted through the door, opening it quickly before sitting down. "So, how was the meeting?" He asked, leaning in as close as possible. She didn't notice to start but Oscar was only wearing trousers and a robe, his blue shirt missing. "It was okay, pretty overwhelming, but good." She said, bringing her eyes back to the computer. 

"Since you want to know and wont ask, Lando gets pretty handsy sometimes, that's usually why I film with him last, or wait a few days to film with someone else. It not a territorial thing, he just likes to see the marks." He spoke softly as he stood up, pulling the robe off. His collar was covered in love bites and teeth marks, while his back was painted with scratches. "Oh wow." Oscar just laughed at her lack of filter. "It's not as bad as it looks, and he's not like this with everyone." He said, eyes closed as the robe began to cover his skin again. "Oh, so you get special treatment. I see how it is." She giggled, avoiding his eyes, scared he's begin to dislike her. "I wish...He doesn't really film with the guys much anymore, I am of course the exception."

He took a deep breath before making sure the door was closed. " Since we're both pretty new I'll fill you in with all the secrets. Lando gets attached very quickly, it's so easy for him to love. That makes him a great person, one of the best you'll ever be around. But that trait is bad in this industry. He joined five years ago, along with George and Alex, but they aren't important to the story. When you start, Usually you're paired with just once actor for a while. For him that was Carlos, and for a lack of a better term he pretty much fell in love with him, but not in a 'I want to date' way. It's complicated. After a few years Carlos left to go to another company for a while and Lando was completely distraught and well angry with Carlos." She was a little shocked that Oscar was so willing to tell her so much. Then again it didn't really affect him. "So Zak, the head of the logistic team, paired him up with Daniel for a while, thinking it would do him some good, they're pretty different, but in a good way." 

Oscar was hesitant to continue, checking his watch every now and then, but since he started he couldn't really stop. "Yet Lando resented him. Daniel didn't take it to heart, knowing the whole situation. He's been here for eight years longer than Lando so he's seen a lot and could tell Lando was struggling. I'll be honest Lando is a massive brat usually, so that coupled with the whole situation was a lot. It made some great content sure, but it was still difficult for every one around them. Long story short they began to get along and at some point Lando fell for Daniel, may I add, both times it wasn't completely one sided. But when things got pretty good for them, Daniel took a break from filming all together, it broke Lando all over again." She took a sharp inhale at the end, it sounded devastating just hearing about it, so she could only imagine how it felt. "So Lando decided he didn't want to film with any of the guys anymore. He started working on some more kink based content with different actors. But slowly he's been coming back. So when I joined last year he didn't want any thing to do with me. Not in a mean way, it was more like he was apprehensive. And of course Zak decided to pair us up and well, we've been filming with each other at least twice a week since." He said shrugging his shoulders, finally doing his robe up properly. "Oh wow that's a lot. Is he not worried you're going to leave him at some point? Not to be disrespectful to you, but surely that's a concern of his." She said as Oscar stood up, motioning for her to do so as well. "First, you need to get changed as Christian has instructed me to accompany you while you meet the rest of the actors, so I'm going to turn around, promise I wont peek." He laughed, checking his watch again. She was quick to start stripping of her clothes, reaching in her bag for some more comfortable attire. "Second, of course he worried, wouldn't you be? But we're adults about it so its usually okay. Now that you say that, that's probably the reason I'm covered in marks." He trailed off, shocked that he didn't think of it sooner. 

She placed her hands on his arms, turning him so they were face to face. "Is this okay?" She questioned looking down at what she was wearing. Oscars eyes followed hers, although stopped much sooner than she did, he couldn't help but stare, mainly at her tits as he could see all the way down her top. He may fuck on camera for most of the week, but he was no better than the average man. "You look perfect." He didn't know what was making him so bold, usually he's quite reserved, not particularly shy, just not talkative. He doesn't know what's gotten into him.

"Come on, it's getting late and it's kind of required that you meet everyone on your first day." They walked out the door and back into another relatively dark hallway, towards on of the many break rooms; Oscar was told to go to the second 'bed set' break room. "So, why'd you tell me all of that?" Oscar didn't expect her to ask him to explain his actions but it seems he really had no choice. "I care about him, so in a way it's just me looking out for him." She hummed with a smile. "If it wasn't me that told you, some else would have, its no real secret. Well the events were not a secret but Lando's true feelings and how bad he really was at the time is more of the secret." After Oscar's little rant she began wonder if they were actually together or if it was once again a two side love relationship without the relationship. "So who's the first one on you're calendar, and don't try to hide it. I know I'm on there but you wouldn't have been staring at that screen so intensely if I was the first." She sighed at his words, ever the observer he seemed to be. "Charles." Oscar was pleased with that, thinking there wouldn't be anyone better. "Actually that's really good for you. He's a lot more sensual and romantic so I believe that Zak thinks he's the safest option because you're content is just you getting off when ever you feel like it, not too focused on the production." He began, not realising he was rambling. "I thought you said you didn't know who I was." She huffed with a teasing tone, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well maybe I lied...Okay I looked you up when you were in that meeting." There was a long pause until they reached the door.

Chapter Two

[ineffable-suffering]

Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

This is Part 2 of 3 total metas. Here are:

Part 1, in case you want to read about my analysis of the Story of Job first

and Part 3, in case you're impatient and want to jump ahead.

Fair warning though, for the sake of understanding some of the references, you're probably better off reading this chaptered meta chronologically. However, every part should work just as well as a standalone! I'll do my very best to make it so.

Alright, off or on you go beyond the cutty cut!

I'll start this second part off with a very brief summary of the main take aways and points from Part 1, which go as such:

Memory, as opposed to a third party's narration, is not a factual, objective retelling of a story or event. It's mingled and mangled with emotions, imaginations and exaggerations, projecting both the feelings and impressions you had back then as well as those you might have now in the present time back on whatever it is you are remembering. (Which is why we need to put everything that Aziraphale is remembering into the context of what he might have felt in the past, as well as what he's feeling right now.)

While this doesn't mean his (or anyone's) memories are lies, it does mean they're a very subjective and sometimes factually distorted representation of what actually happened, which, in our case, gives us a lot of subtext and a lot of not-there furniture to figure out and look at.

So, let's continue with S2E3 and the Story of wee Morag. We start our flashback with a scene of Aziraphale writing his diary entry on the 10th of November, 1827. Immediately, it's firmly established that this is once again not an outside-point-of-view narration, but rather what Aziraphale remembers and wrote down.

One thing that immediately stuck out to me here, is how helpful and kind Crowley is to Elspeth, pretty much from the very beginning when they meet her in the graveyard. Not only does he take on a Scottish accent so she won't perceive him as English (as she does with Aziraphale), but he also helps her drag the barrel that has the fresh body in it and, in the end, even pulls it all by himself while Elspeth simply follows behind them. Here's a rather poor-quality picture, for reference:

Now, we know that despite not showing it very often, Crowley has always been very fond of the humans and never really put himself on a pedestal simply because he's an immortal being himself. He likes humans, just like Aziraphale does. But, just like this story will tell us, Crowley knows that on top of liking humans, you can't just put them into boxes of good and evil and expect them to always do what is supposedly the "right" or "divinely good" thing to do. (Which is what differentiates him from Aziraphale in the way he understands and treats them, as we're shown in this minisode).

Him immediately and unspokenly helping Elspeth with dragging the barrel therefore might also be a first sign of a tiny projection from present day Aziraphale, as opposed to what Crowley might have actually done (probably just walked beside her, like Aziraphale) because he has the knowledge that Crowley really was so very kind to her in the end, wasn't he? And that he's kind to humans in general. ("Not kind! Off my head on Laudanum!" Sure, babe.)

Most of this minisode, in my opinion, is actually there to establish how Aziraphale's view of morality and good vs. evil used to be quite flawed and elitist –– and how Crowley has always been there to gently nudge him towards questioning his black and white view of heavenly right and hellishly wrong. That's why I think there's not as many hints in this minisode about Aziraphale's memories not being an accurate portrayal of what happened, as there are in the Story of Job or the magic show in 1941. (And, fear not, the latter will definitely be the most hint-heavy one). Alas, there's still a few bits and bobs in the Story of wee Morag that stuck out to me, that make a brief yet good case of the whole unreliable narration thing.

First of all: The way Aziraphale describes all of it in his diary is so different from the way we see him actually remembering it. It's almost like he tried to write this entry (and possibly all of his diary) as a bit of a thrilling short story, with himself as the main character. Which makes sense, given the fact that he adores books and would certainly be keen on dabbling in the art of capital-w Writing himself. It's yet again hinting at the fact that sometimes people (and angels) try to polish and bedazzle stories (and memories) to make them seem more exciting and adventurous, often to distract from the not-so-fun parts of it.

Like when Aziraphale's diary narrates:

"It was with heavy heart we arrived at Elspeth's destination. I was determined to thwart her monstrous plan!"

... and yet we see Crowley and Elspeth casually walking down the alleyway, very obviously not heavy-hearted in the slightest, while Aziraphale nervously scurries on behind them, very obviously not determined to thwart. (Timestamp-wise, it's around 17:38 in S2E3, in case you want to see for yourself.)

We get another cinematographic/auditory hint at the fact that Aziraphale's memory is heavily influenced by what he's feeling that very moment, when Dr. Mister Dalrymple –– FRCSE, thank you very much –– shows him the tumor he removed from the seven year old boy. You can see the shock and horror on Aziraphale's face once he learns of this child's cruel fate. We then proceed to hear Mr. Dalrymple's voice grow sort of echo-y and far away as the sad music swells up and drowns out his voice almost completely. It's awfully similar to what it feels like when really horrible news are broken to you and you dissociate and drift into a state of shock. Here's the clip of it, so you may listen for yourself:

It's clear that this is a very subjective portrayal of what Aziraphale is going through during this part of the memory. He's deeply horrified and saddened about the little boy having passed away so early in life – and we hear and feel this shock with him. Through him, because this is his memory. Whatever it is he's feeling and thinking, we're feeling and thinking it too because we're seeing it through his lense.

Another (less sad) hint at a possible exaggeration is the abnormally deep hole Crowley makes the two graveyard watch keepers fall into. I'm pretty sure he's very much in charge of his miracles, making this random slip-up seem a little silly – which is why I'm also pretty sure the "Might have slightly overdone it on that hole" is a wee bit of a meta hint at this just being another one of Aziraphale's dramatic bedazzlements of this story. For the *flings feather boa around neck* drama!

You know what else might be exaggerated? Hm, I dunno, maybe Crowley growing into the size of a tree for no apparent reason. Sure, yes, he's pretty high on Laudanum which is making him a bit loopy. But apart from that, it does seem an awfully big cinematographic euphemism for him being the metaphorical (and, once again, for the drama of it) literal bigger person in this scenario. He's the one who ends up saving Elspeth and who manages to secure a safe life without poverty and grave robbing for her. While Aziraphale was so tangled up in his own moral journey and main character-ism, missing that wee Morag was seconds away from death already, Crowley is the one who actually ends up growing stepping up for the human in need and saving them for good (pun intended).

In a way, it might just be Aziraphale's view of/feelings for Crowley in this very moment. Watching the demon outgrow what, according to Aziraphale's heavenly logic, is supposed to be a foul fiend, bestowing evil upon humanity – and growing into someone who does the exact opposite and saves Elspeth instead. Another larger-than-life character development, in Aziraphale's eyes. Literally.

Let's switch back to the topic of the diary entry one last time, so I can make my final point of the this minisode's unreliable and a smidge over-dramatic narration of Dr. McFell. If you pay close attention, Aziraphale starts the entry we're all getting to experience with: "Last month, Crowley and I both happened to be in Edinburgh." Which means it didn't actually happen on the 10th of November, but rather at some point in October, 1827. Once we see Crowley get hydro-pumped back to Hell after rescuing Elspeth, the minisode ends with, presumably, the last sentence of Aziraphale's diary entry: "And that was the last I would see of Crowley for quite some time."

Take my hand and let's look at where the furniture isn't: This very clearly means that Crowley couldn't have been gone for more than a month, at best. Read again: "It happened last month and that was the last I would see of him for quite some time." This, albeit indirectly, clearly implies that when Aziraphale had sat down to write the diary entry, he had already run into Crowley again. Otherwise his phrasing would have probably been more along the lines of "... and I haven't seen Crowley since" or "... and Crowley has yet to return from wherever it is Hell's currently keeping him".

What's the point I'm trying to make? Good question. I guess my main point of storyteller Aziraphale being a bit over-dramatic in his narration is simply backed up by this, since A Single Month would barely pass as "quite some time" for an immortal being like him. And yet that's how he puts it, in his little Confidential Journals of A.Z. Fell, Vol. 603.

And another point that has absolutely nothing to do with the topic of this meta (but I'm still gonna make it 'cause this is my memory post): The meeting at St. Jame's Park in 1862 that so many, post-S2, took to be their first run-in after the Story of wee Morag, actually wasn't that at all. They saw each other at least once only a month later, as Aziraphale's diary lets us know. Which explains why he wasn't very surprised or concerned when he met Crowley in London, 1862. If there really had been 35 years in between those two events, the first one ending with Crowley being sucked back Downstairs to receive more than three decades worth of hellish punishment, wouldn't Aziraphale have been at least a tiny bit worried or more interested than:

Just saying.

Alright, let's string this inflated hot air balloon of a post back together so we can outline some invisible furniture. This time with only two humble points:

Crowley through Aziraphale's lense Backed up by how we are introduced to Bildad the Shuhite in the Job minisode (suave, cheeky, smart, passionate in shoemaking and obstetrics), it's growing quite clear that Aziraphale's memories and impressions of Crowley are very fond and impressed ones. He sees him as someone who's not only witty, funny and cool, but also as someone who has figured out way sooner and faster than him that nothing's ever black and white. Not God's plans and not the human's choices either.

Aziraphale as a bit of an exaggerating adventure author With the direct parallel we get of inkslinger journalist!Aziraphale in the present day, it's quite apparent after this minisode that Aziraphale's memory is not only deeply influenced by his emotions, but that he also tends to have a bit of a dramatic touch to him. Although, you gotta give it to the guy: A month without seeing the love of your life, even if said life is eternal, can indeed seem like "quite some time".

Well, would you lookie here, we've reached the end of Part 2! What a journey it was. I hope you forgive me for the fact that I drifted off-course a few times. I just can't seem to reel in my silly little observations, even if they've got nothing to do with the point I'm trying to make. But hey, doesn't that just make me a little bit like Aziraphale's storytelling, in a way?

I'll let you be the judge of that.

See you in Part 3! And in case you haven't snuck a peak yet: here's Part 1 again.

Ta!

[dicenete]

I repainted his face more times than probably necessary but something always caught my eye and still does, but it is done. is done. It's fine. xD IkePri Tagteam:

@scummy-writes @goustmilk @solacedeer @m-mmiy @mxrmaid-poet

@pawnkyyy @ludivineikewolf @violettduchess @floydsteeth @wistfulwanderingone

@sh0jun @lorei-writes

A little bit of rambling of him below the break, spoilers (Keith's route, and little bit of Nokto's route) and such :0 so you have been warned.

TL;DR: I enjoyed the route despite its questionable elements. MC is too forgiving at times, but other than that, romanctic route was cute. Licht, the third wheel, was funny but sad.

Okay first about Keith's visual design: I really love how his design is the most asymmetrical from the suitors. Like the jacket and the vest he has. The jacket is very interestingly layered, almost like you aren't sure which part is the main thing and what is the accent. The green or the gold? The host or the alter? : D Same with his vest. His duality is battling in his clothing too hahaha

Keith's route was interesting. I had heard lots of differing opinions about it and I had my own reservations.

One mainly about the portrayal of DID and how the route does it. First things first: I'm not an expert at all. I won't even humor the idea that I had any say in anything regarding it. But overall, it could have been worse? Of course it might be very extreme in the way Alter Keith is hostile towards Host Keith. And of course you shouldn't take this as the only way the alter systems work. But as I said: I'm not an expert.

I had heard that the dramatic route follows Alter Keith and romantic route host Keith. I picked the romantic one. I had my personal reasons for that tho. But aside from that, it was nice to be with Keith that who struggled with self-worth. It was nice to see him grow as a character and find that strength to stand up for himself. (The fact that the host Keith seems to think that he is inferior to Alter Keith and that people would prefer the alter over him. The amount of stress that will bring. )

Keith's uncle was your very generic villain/antagonist without any real depth. He was a spoiled noble and so on. But since this was more about Keith inner journey I thought it was fine that it was like that.

The drugging scene… Well. That's a… a topic. Hmm… Host Keith himself felt very guilty about it and was full of remorse. Not that it was his choice to do it. Alter Keith well… He might justify it because he was gathering information about a rumor that might endanger his home country and people if it were true. I kinda can see where he is coming from, but also...IT CERTAINLY WAS DESTROYING OF TRUST. Like that time when Nokto "accidently" gets MC drunk. but hey ho. Since there is limited time frame for the chapters, I do understand they can't really jam all the things there, but I wanted Belle be more angry with him with Alter Keith for longer.

Maybe that's what bugs me sometimes. That Belle/Emma/MC is sometimes too forgiving and too much of a doormat. It works in routes like Yves and Licht (from the routes I have played, Leon seems like the most respectable gentleman too), because they are not being insulting towards her. I would even think that she works with Clavis, tho I would love to see him with someone who shares his chaotic gremlin energy. But with characters like Chev, Silvio or Alter Keith the their "power" doesn't feel balanced. MC seems to be completely on their mercy even if they stand up to them in some way. (Gilbert is another can of nasty things.)(With Chev's route, well, that is also a rambling for another time. But I haven't finished his route yet. so I will keep my ramblings to myself for now.)

Is Keith's route more about acceptance then? Accepting the good and the bad of a person? Possibly. I would think that is a good way to put it. Both Keiths have good and bad sides. And it seems that they are working on them.

[serenityinstone]

Feline Fiasco

Hetalia x Reader

This is written for a female reader but there isn't really anything specific that would suggest that besides a few references. If you want to read, I'm not going to stop you.

Also (Y/n) is completely uninterested in the countries for the majority of this, all she's interested in is the cats. This is way fluffier than anything else I've posted, which is two things, and this part is relatively America-centric because (Y/n) works for him. This is also way less quality work than those two posts but idk deal with it?

There is more to this but it's unfinished and I'll probably never post it. My friend also helped with the cat names so if you don't like them... uh assume that they chose them. One last note, I thought it would be funny to write the accents so you also have to deal with that.

As one of the many secretaries working in the White House, it was actually quite a surprise to you that you ended up as the main secretary to the human personification of the U.S.A.

Because of this, you had become quite close to Mr. F. Jones and more importantly: his cat.

You couldn't help but coo at the adorable and floofy feline. Sure, you should probably finish filing those papers, but national security can wait a few more minutes. Besides you couldn't resist the allure of the purr. It would be an understatement to say, when you learned that the other personifications also had furry friends of their own, you were excited.

America didn't want you interacting with the other countries, especially not Russia. But you honestly didn't care and you weren't the recording secretary for those meetings, so it's not like you were in attendance anyways. That somehow didn't stop you from having to tag along and meeting more nation cats; of which you weren't sure why they had brought them along in the first place. It's not like you were complaining.

Ball of fur after ball of fur. No cat went un-petted. Except for Germany's cat; he had evaded you time and time again. But no longer! For today was the last day and you were going to pet that cat if it was the last thing you did.

There it was. It's sleek black fur, the ribbon in Germany's signature colors around its neck, and that always alert look on its face. He would evade you no more. You crouched down in your very inflexible pencil skirt and prepared to pounce.

"Vhat are jou doing?" A voice thick with a German accent called out, startling you and the cat who decided to bound back towards him and into his arms.

"Uhhhh." You blanked.

"You're America's secretary right? Vat vere jou trying to do to my cat?" He questioned, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

You gulped and tried to explain your actions in a way that didn't sound absolutely ridiculous.

"I-uh. I wanted to pet your cat and… he kept evading me and I thought if I snuck up on him that I could pet him." You looked away and pitifully whispered, "Sorry."

"If jou vanted to pet him, all you had to do was ask."

"Really!?" Your eyes lit up and you looked up at the German with pure and unbridled excitement. He coughed and looked away with a slight blush resting on his cheeks.

"Of course." He held the cat out. You, with no hesitation whatsoever, immediately started to adore and love the cat, even shifting it from Germany's arms to your own.

As you continued to pet the cat, who despite his earlier refusal, seemed quite happy, you asked Germany a question. "My name's (Y/n). What's yours if you're willing to share? No pressure though."

His eyes widened a bit before he shook it off and gave you an answer. "Ludwig Beilschmidt." He responded, studying his cat. "Germouser seems to like jou."

You could barely stifle a laugh at the name he had given to the black cat. He sensed your amusement and gave an explanation.

"Feli- Italy named him. I vas going to name him Johann or something similar. Italy was zoroughly horrified by my suggestions and vould not rest until I vent vith his."

You smiled at the Italian's antics and shook your head with amusement. "Germouser is a fine name for an absolutely wonderful cat."

Germany seemed to get flustered again as he watched you coo at his cat, completely ignoring his presence. He would have just left him with you, but the meeting was starting soon and he didn't want to be late. Luckily for him, America decided to pop around the corner, demanding your attention. So you were forced to give up the precious kitty cat and return with Mr. Jones.

Alfred was annoyed. Not at you but at everyone else. Why did they have any right to be around you? You were an American citizen. His citizen. Sure, all you were really interested in was their cats. But what if you thought that they and their cats were so cool that you left him and went to live in a different country instead? He couldn't let that happen.

"So, (Y/n), dude, broette." He said on the way to the meeting room. "Here's the deal."

You gave him a look and raised an eyebrow.

"I need someone to watch Hero for me and my sitter flaked so you're gonna be watching him." He fingered-gunned at you and stars seemed to shine in the air around him. This, of course, was nothing new to you. It wasn’t like you would have rather been attending the meeting anyways.

So you stayed in a different unoccupied meeting room with a lovely, furry friend. It wasn't until he started hissing at a corner that you were in trouble.

"Hero, what's wrong?" You asked, concerned at the agitated cat. His tail bristled up and his ears flattened down as he took a defensive position. Out of nowhere another fluffy cat waltzed in from the very corner that Hero had been hissing at. It was Boris, a cat that belonged to Russia.

You hadn't actually gotten to pet him yet because to be honest, you were also scared of Russia. But… He wasn't around… and his cat was. And his cat was purring.

That was about all the reasoning that you needed to brush past Hero and scoop Boris up into your arms. The former started yowling for your attention and followed you as you went to sit down with the Russian cat.

You laid down on the plush carpeted floor and lifted the cat that you were holding up above you. Boris’ fluffy body was placed onto your chest and he immediately started purring louder once he got comfortable. He nuzzled his face into your neck, much to the annoyance of the American cat. Hero yowled at you and pawed at Boris, desperately trying to get him off.

Boris only gave him a smug look in return and kneaded into you, further solidifying his spot. Hero decided that it wasn’t worth the fight and that he was going to get his owner to remove the Russian cat and put him back into his mother’s lap: aka you.

The surprisingly smart and agile cat leapt around the room and pushed down the door handle, slipping out through the crack. You didn’t notice this as you were currently immersed in the bliss of a cat sitting on you and letting you pet it.

Eventually the purring lulled you into a peaceful and warm slumber, the two of you deciding to take a cat nap.

It would be Russia who found you first. Ivan realized that his cat had gone missing and he honestly didn’t care enough about the meeting to stay. It's not like anyone would try to stop him.

So as Hero bounded down the halls towards the meeting room, Mr. Ivan Braginsky came from the other direction; his sense of where his cat was at any one moment was completely uncanny.

The Russian gradually opened the wooden door and it quietly opened without any resistance. He turned his head towards where he heard purring and was met with a surprising sight. It was America’s secretary, with his cat, lying, with his cat.

You were breathing softly and the movements of your chest moving up and down also moved Boris. Ivan couldn’t help but faintly smile at the sight. Said cat opened a singular eye to acknowledge the new presence in the room. He flicked his tail and settled back into his spot. Not wanting to bother you or the cat, Ivan pulled out a chair and sat down. 

He pulled out some paperwork, seemingly from nowhere, and began to work on it. The sounds of your quiet breathing, combined with the light purr from Boris, made for a calming work environment. 

As the three of you remained in peaceful bliss, another kitty cat was running around the corner on the never ending search for food. Itabby trotted up and down the corridors looking for an open door that might lead to some food that didn’t come from England. Her golden fur glimmered as the sun shined through the many windows in the building. She looked over at a door that had opened slightly and was too blinded by the thought of food to notice the scarily familiar scent coming from the room.

Itabby scampered over to the door but screeched and meowed as she was sent flying by an American blonde and his equally irritated cat. She tentatively peered around the door at the scene forming.

“HEY!” Alfred yelled, startling both you and the cat. You shot up straight, Boris falling into your lap. “What are you doing with her?!” He yelled again, getting his face up into Ivan’s. The other man gave him an unamused look and stood up, towering over him. Alfred, despite this, did not back down and continued to stare angrily at him.

“Go away.” The white-haired male said, his accent heavy as he crossed his arms. “You have startled them with your unnecessary noise. You are just like the rest of your country.”

The air tensed and became heavier as the seconds went on. They began to size each other up as Hero, ironically, “heroically” walked proudly over to you and with his front paws, pushed Boris off of your lap. He quickly took his place and started purring. Boris’ fur began to puff up as he hunched down and prepared to pounce. His back legs flexed and he made the jump, sending both him and Hero flying towards their fighting owners, who were remarkably somehow not in a physical fight. Yet.

You very quickly realized that you did not want to be in the middle of  two superpowers fighting and quietly took your leave. (E/c) eyes met feline amber ones and you swept up the cat and made your escape, leaving behind the feuding men and cats.

Itabby snuggled into your arms as you finally slowed down to catch your breath. Her round tail whooshed back and forth as you tiredly walked through the long hallway. The two of you eventually ended up in the rose gardens of the meeting building. The area was well taken care of and beautiful if you did say so yourself. The meeting was taking place in England and Mr. Jones had told you about how the Brit enjoyed gardening, so it made sense as to why it was here.

Speaking of the British, you spotted a fluffy feline shape from the corner of your eye. It was deeper into the gardens and among the trees. Itabby finally decided that it was time to go and return to her owner. She gracefully leaped out of your arms and landed on all fours and trotted off to beg Italy for some pasta. You instead continued your approach to the cat, which at this point, you could tell was a Scottish Fold.

The left side of his face was brown and so was his tail. Alike to his owner, he seemed to have what you assumed were some kind of eyebrows and when he opened his eyes to look at you, his olive eyes stared into yours. He flicked his tail and layed back down onto the wall that he was laying on. His collar jingled as he moved and you quietly moved up to him. On the gold circle attached to the same olive color collar, was a name.

‘Scone’ You thought. ‘Oh my god. This is the most English cat name I have ever seen.’

You almost started laughing but the smoldering glare the cat gave you made you think otherwise. The stone wall was surprisingly cold for the summer sun and as you sat down, you took a look at Scone. He seemed to still be quite grumpy, but he knew you from earlier in the week, so he was not alarmed. You lifted up and moved your left arm forward to start petting him.

Scone was soft and clearly well-taken care of. His fur was clean and had no knots or dirt insight, despite laying around a garden for half a day. You continued your actions and the both of you started to fall back into slumber. Your hand hovered on the back of the feline and your head slumped alongside your body.

It was peaceful. With birds chirping and the wind lightly blowing. There was a river babbling somewhere in the background and it made for a serene scene. The only reason he had let you pet him was because you had fed him earlier in the week. He didn’t have his collar at that point so this was the first time you had gotten his name. Your eyes closed as you recalled the event from a couple of days prior.

The day after the plane landed you were on the hunt for felines. Armed with some cat food, a retractable mouse-on-a-stick and hope, you made your way around the building England had set aside for housing the rampant countries, and byproduct, their cats. France’s cat, Monsieur, was an absolute attention wh-. He really liked attention, and would rub himself against your leg anytime the two of you crossed paths. It’s not like France, or Francis, was much better.

It’s not like you minded petting him. He was adorable after all. The cat, not Francis. But you had wanted to meet as many other cats as you could and so you had to stop by Francis’ room multiple times to drop off Monsieur.

“Je suis désolé.” He said, taking Monsieur out of your arms. “He keeps getting out. But I guess he knows when there’s a lovely lady around.”

You ignored his attempts at flirting and instead scratched Monsieur’s chin one last time before leaving. He purred at you and while you felt bad about leaving him, you were on a mission! Besides, you had a certain Japanese cat to track down. Monsieur meowed at you as you walked down the hallway and if you didn’t know better you’d say so did Francis.

Either way, nothing was going to stop you from petting Tama, Japan’s cat. He was an adorable little black and white feline with the cutest little bob for a tail. You had actually spotted him earlier and was about to go up to him before Monsieur literally jumped into your arms, demanding attention. Of course you weren’t going to say no so Tama quickly left your sight as you went to return Monsieur. 

Wait, isn't Monsieur just sir in French? Oh well there was no time to think about questionable cat names, this building was full of them.

Monsieur wasn’t the only attention whore of a cat. Prussia’s cat, Purrussia, wasn’t much better. He would follow you down hallways and meow with his scratchy meow at you while Austria’s cat, Allegro, whined behind him. He literally tried to jump up at you a few times.

Of course both of them were interrupted when Hero ran straight at you and tackled you like a professional linebacker. You had thought that it was mostly fluff, but no, apparently Hero could pack a punch. He knocked the wind out of you as you fell backwards onto the tiled floor. The cat sat proudly on you and looked around like he was waiting for something or someone. Whoever he was waiting for, however, wouldn’t show up fast enough to see Purrussia return the favor and tackle Hero off of you, much to Allegro’s horror. 

The white cat had a German ribbon as well but it looked like it was fraying at the edges. The reason you were bringing this up was because Hero was currently using one of the edges to try to choke Purrussia and Allegro was using the other to try to pull Purrussia away from Hero. Neither was really working and all it was really doing was making Purrussia more and more agitated.

“PURRUSSIA!!!” A shrill voice yelled out from down the hallway.

The cats stopped their roughhousing to see two of the countries barrelling down towards them. Well Prussia was. Austria was slowly walking over, looking more inconvenienced than anything else.

“Purrussia! Purrussia!” Prussia reiterated, pulling his cat up by its arms. “Did jou vin?!”

Everyone but the two Prussians stared in disbelief at his statement. The albino feline furiously nodded his head and if he could have talked you would have imagined that he would have been saying, ‘I’m awesome!’

Hero angrily meowed down below, as if to oppose Purrussia’s non-verbal statement. Allegro just haughtily licked his paw and stuck his nose up as if to pretend that he was disgusted with their fighting as if he hadn’t just been a part of it. Austria picked up his in-denial cat and you picked up Hero who calmed down as soon as you did. 

“Sorry about him.” You said, brushing his unruly fur down with your hand. “He gets a little competitive.”

“Ja. It’s fine.” Austria said, petting his own cat. “Purrussia is not much better.”

“HEY!” Prussia yelled. “My awesome Purrussia is doing his best! And besides, at least he actually does something!”

“Jour cat picked a fight vith a vall (wall) Gilbert.” Austria sassed.

“Vell jour cat’s piano playing is trash!”

Austria gave a gasp of horror before inching closer to the Prussian.

“Jou take zat back, RIGHT NOW!”

Prussia just laughed, still letting Purrussia’s back paws dangle as he held him like one would a toddler. He got in close to the Austrian’s face, smiling deviously at him.

“Nein.”

He suddenly, while still holding Purrussia, took off, running away from Austria. He wasn’t far behind though and you could hear the man yelling in German all the way down the far corridor.

“Well Hero.” You said, looking down at the cat who had made himself very comfortable. “That was weird.”

He just snuggled closer to you and you sighed. You scratched him once more before heading down the opposite hallway. The destination was clear, before you could continue your cat quest, you’d have to get this one safely back to its owner.

You suddenly snapped back to reality, still sitting on the wall. The sun was now high in the sky and the spot underneath you was no longer cold. You were especially warm as you now had a Scottish Fold sitting comfortably upon your lap. Quietly cooing at the cat, you looked to see if there was any way to escape your furry prison. The most important rule of cats: once a cat sits on you, you’re not moving until they do.

You sighed, legs uncomfortably stiff. Scone was far more content and his bushy tail occasionally brushed against your leg. It was incredibly cute but it didn’t make your back stop hurting from being hunched over for the last half hour.

Voices came from farther within the garden. There were two people currently engaged in a soft conversation. You caught bits and pieces of it; there was a man with a British accent and a man with what you thought was American until you heard him say ‘aboot.’ You couldn’t help but snicker at your own observation, disturbing Scone in the process.

He scornfully meowed at you and you offered pets in an apology. Around the corner turned Scone’s owner and a man who looked incredibly similar to America. They both turned to look at you when the Scottish Fold you were fondling stretched out to impossible lengths and complained like a cat while he did it. England looked down at your lap to see his cat very happily cushioned on your thighs. The man next to him was also holding a cat who again looked very similar to America’s.

They were clearly different though. This man’s hair was more auburn and his eyes were a shade of impossible purple. There was also more of a wave to it whereas America’s hair was as straight as hair comes. Familiarity lit up in your eyes, not for the man however.

“Maple!” You exclaimed, wanting to go to the cat but also not willing to disturb the one on you. “How have you been?”

The men stared at you, wondering if you were talking to them or the cat. Of course Maple himself answered this as he jumped out of his owner’s arms and darted over to you. He gracefully climbed up the small wall and placed himself down by you. Scone was on your lap and he was nicer than Hero so as to not push him off. You moved one of your arms to pet Maple and kept the other on Scone. They were so cute you felt like you were going to explode.

“Oh.” A quiet voice spoke out. It came from the man behind England. “You’re Alfred’s secretary right?”

You smiled and nodded at the man. “And I assume that means you’re Canada, right?”

He looked a tad taken aback before nodding himself. “Yeah…” He trailed off and England instead picked up the conversation.

“I thought you were supposed to be watching his furrball cat, Hero.” He walked over and leaned against the wall.

“I was. But then he and Boris got into a catfight… and then America and Russia got into a catfight.”

Canada laughed in the background but quickly covered it up. England stared at Scone, looking to see if there was anyway to get him off of you without being scratched himself. He had enough injuries, that should have scarred had he not been a country, from the cat. He shivered a bit, though also began to pet the feline, scratching his under the chin.

“That sounds like those two.”

You hummed in agreement, continuing your affections. Canada also came over to pet his own cat who ironically did smell like maple syrup. 

“Can I make you the villain of this story?” You asked England, gesturing to Scone. “I do actually have somewhere I need to be.”

“Oh I suppose I can assume that role.” He mused, carefully picking up his cat. He was not happy to be moved but England just shushed him.

Canada also picked up his cat who was slightly nicer about the whole thing. He fidgeted with Maple’s ear as he held him.

“I’m Matthew.” He said, carefully shifting Maple so he could put one arm out to shake your hand.

You finished the formal greeting. “I’m (Y/n).”

The other blonde butted in from the background. “I’m Arthur, love.”

“It’s very nice to formally meet both of you. Seeing you from across a meeting room doesn’t really count.” You smiled and gave a small pat to each of the feline’s heads. “Well I wasn’t kidding about needing to get somewhere. I really didn’t mean to get stopped as long as I did.” 

You playfully glared at the Scottish Fold sitting comfortably in his owner's arms. He promptly ignored you, instead turning around cutely. England apologized but you told him it was fine. You were at least 50% sure that Mr. Jones was probably still fighting with Russia. Those two really were like angry cats. You waved the two men off and went on your way to find out the answer to that question.

Instead of coming across two feuding superpowers, you came across two of the Asian nations’ cats. You had already met them both but this was the first time you were seeing them together. Tama was sitting up high on a shelf while China’s cat, Meowzedong, was angrily meowing at him from down below. Everytime he tried to climb up, Tama would use a paw and swipe a book or other object down at him.

You flinched as a very breakable, very expensive-looking, vase crashed down. It was this movement that alerted the two cats to your presence and Meowzedong wasted no time at all to come over to you and complain. Now you couldn’t exactly speak cat but you got the jist.

Bending down, you carefully picked up the cat. Meowzedong always had a weird clump of fur that looked almost like a ponytail that, no matter how much China cut it, always grew back. He yowled at you and pointed a furry paw in Tama’s direction. The other cat had already loafed on top of the high shelf and you looked at him, back at Meowzedong, back at Tama, and then back at Meowzedong again.

“I don’t know how tall you think I am but I’m not that tall.”

Meowzedong just narrowed his eyes and meowed at you again. You sighed, looking back at Tama. If he had a long enough tail to flick it at you he would’ve. Sensing the futility of his quest, Meowzedong instead spread himself out in your arms and if you didn’t know better you would have said that he was mocking Tama. And if you really didn’t know better you’d say that it was working and that the bobtail was getting more irritated by the second. The personifications might have had to act cordial but their cats had no such qualms.

Finally, Tama de-loafed himself and gracefully hopped down a few other layers before reaching the bottom. He gracefully walked over to you and sat on your foot… Well shoot. What were you supposed to do now?

So here you were, from one cat prison to the next. Standing in the middle of some random, out-of-the-way hallway because the nations’ cats were all attention-hogging, though very adorable, brats.

You didn’t know how much time had actually passed. There was no clock in the hallway, you didn’t wear a watch, and both of your hands were occupied so you couldn’t check your phone. As cute as they were, your legs felt like they were about to collapse in on themselves. You couldn’t even shift how you were standing because Tama had taken it upon himself to lay across both of your shoes. Your arms also felt like they were going to fall off at any second. Meowzedong wasn’t a particularly heavy cat but try holding anything over five pounds for longer than five minutes.

You were desperately hoping that either they would finally get bored and leave or someone would come to save you. Wow you guessed you really did need a “Hero” right about now… Dammit you thought that referencing needing a hero in your head would magically summon America or his equally hotheaded cat.

“Tama. Meowzedong.” You murmured. “Can you please get off?” You hoped to whatever god or gods were out there that they didn’t hear the desperation in your voice. Never show weakness to a cat.

The two cats made eye contact with each other for a moment and seemed to come to an agreement. Meowzedong stretched his body out before jumping onto the ground. Tama did the same but instead greeted Meowzedong when he landed.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if you said that you collapsed onto the wooden floor below. You quickly got up however as you didn’t want them to see it as another chance to sit on you. At least not right now. You pulled out your phone to see all of the messages and calls you missed. You had put it on silent while watching Hero and forgot to turn it back to vibrate.

‘Oh my god Mr. Jones called me twenty-three times.’ You thought, frantic. ‘I’m gonna be in so much trouble!’

You raced down the hallway, startling a group of micronations as you went. There was no time to apologize! You had to keep your job! If not for you then for the cats!

Not even thinking to knock you burst open the door where America was staying, side note why wasn’t it locked? And were greeted with the sight of!... Mr. Jones… crying? His cat looked pretty dejected too and was currently hanging himself off the side of the bed like a rug.

“Sir?” His head shot up to look at you.

He quickly snapped his head back away, mushing at his face in an attempt to try to make it seem like he wasn’t crying.

“(Y-Y/n)” He stuttered for a second, before immediately going back to the hero persona. “Where’ve you been!?”

“Are you okay?” You ignore him, instead asking your own question.

You titiled your body to look at what he was looking at… Was that a framed picture of you?!

It didn’t matter because he was very quickly all in your face again. You could see what seemed to be a rapidly healing black eye and a tooth that hadn’t fully regrown in yet as he smiled at you. Just how long was he fighting with Russia for?

You sat him down on his bed, considering if you should even bother getting a medkit for him. Either way you ended up spending the rest of the day with him, watching movies and sitting what you considered a good ways away from each other on the plush couch. He apparently had a nicer room in all of England’s properties from when he used to live there during parts of the year.

Hero filled the gap in-between you of which America was mildly annoyed about. He kept trying to get you to use ‘Alfred’ but you insisted that it was unprofessional. He’d close the gap one day.

[letterstotheflre]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐕𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈’𝐌 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔) || 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐗𝐎𝐍

summary: it's his fault. daryl knows that. he should've realised sooner that he knew exactly what those mushroom's would do to you once you ate them.

cw: 18+ only. dark fic [ft. sex pollen, dubcon, mentions of previous noncon drugging (on daryl), outdoor sex, grinding, fingering, squirting]

a/n: soo here is my first big daryl fic! honestly, this might be my favourite fic i’ve ever written :3 it was very fun to write and somehow i really liked writing daryl dialogue/inner monologue (his accent is just so fun lol). once again, this was supposed to be a very feral smut fest and ended up having a lot of emotional moments and inner daryl turmoil </3 i still hope you like it :)) || also very unrelated side note, but i think “gold rush” by taylor fits the daryl in this fic v much (it’d be from his pov, not yours)

“Where d’ya think we should go next?” You ask Daryl around a mouthful of the lone rabbit he hunted earlier this afternoon.

Finding food is getting harder and harder, not to mention you’re running out of your water supply. It’s obvious you need to move your camp to a better area, preferably somewhere near a lake or river. The question is, where is that exactly?

Daryl shrugs, turning the rabbit leg between his dirty fingers around. He takes a rough bite. 

He doesn’t know, and to be honest, he doesn’t really care. Now that the prison fell and with the group scattered to the winds, he doesn’t have much hope for anything. He had gotten a little too comfortable there, his first mistake, and now look where it landed him. Had he learnt nothing from his first camp with Merle, then the camp in Atlanta, then the CDC, and finally the farm? He had enough experience under his belt to know that things always took a turn for the worse, especially when everything seemed safe and peaceful. Yet he still let his guard down. 

The thing is, the prison… the prison was different. It was well protected, with several feet of fence that kept the walkers far from the main building. They didn’t have to worry about any walkers creeping into their cells and taking a bite out of them in the middle of the night since they were able to clear their side of the prison in a matter of days. They had guns and ammo, food and water. Hershel and Carol even taught them how to take care of crops. Hell, they even got their hands on some cattle! They didn’t need to scavenge the woods for some meagre squirrels any more. 

Things were looking up. He had even started to think that maybe, just maybe, they could spend the rest of their lives there. But then the Governor showed up and everything went to shit. 

So now here he is. No Rick, no Carol. Alone once again. Well, not exactly alone– he had you for company. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like you– he likes you more than just a normal amount if he’s being honest with himself. It’s just that… you’re a dead girl walking. He doesn’t know how you’ve made it this far, and by all accounts you shouldn’t have. Before all this, before the virus and the walking dead, you were a preschool teacher. You had lived in the city your entire life, in a nice house located in a nice neighbourhood with nice parents. If he had to bet, he’d say you were even prom queen back in the day. 

There had been no need for you to learn how to hunt, scavenge, track, shoot a gun or even handle a knife. Daryl had been the one to teach you how to shoot a gun in the air, volunteering immediately when Rick brought the subject up and completely ignoring the amused, knowing smile on his friend’s face. 

If he focuses hard enough, he can still hear the sound of your happy laughter the first time you hit the center of the target. Can still feel your chest pressed to his in your celebratory hug. 

“Think I saw some train tracks a couple miles east yesterday. If the others saw ‘em too, they’re probably following them thinkin’ we’re doing the same,” you ramble on, not letting his lack of answer deter you. “Maybe we could find Rick or Maggie.” You lean forward so you can reach the mushrooms you picked up today, plop one and then another inside your awaiting mouth. 

Daryl watches as you chew, eyes judging. He had been adamant that you shouldn’t eat them, shouldn’t even touch them. 

“Stupid girl,” he growled, swatting your hand away from the cluster growing on the bark of a tree. “Didn’t ya mom tell ya not to touch things you never seen before?”

“Ain’t stupid,” you bristled at his tone. “I know these, they used to grow ‘rond some plants in the garden back home. Pretty sure mom put them in our soup ev’ry now and then.”

You don’t let his lack of answer deter you. “Think I saw some train tracks a 

Daryl kneeled beside you, broad right shoulder touching your left one, and examined them closely. He was sure he had never seen them before, not in the woods from his hometown nor in any of his hunting trips since the outbreak started. “Nah, these ain’t safe,” he concluded. 

“Yes, they are.”

“No”, he enunciated the word to make it as clear as possible. “They ain’t.” 

“Yes, they are,” you scowl and plush a couple from their roots. “I ain’t stupid nor useless. I know I can eat these.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “If ya want to kill y’self just to prove a point then fine, be my fuckin’ guest,” he snarked. Then he got up and kept walking in silence, not even sparing you another glance. 

He shakes his head firmly. “Nah, no train tracks.”

“What? Why?” You ask, surprised. “It’s our best shot at findin’ the others!”

“Ain’t no one to find, girl. S’better if ya stop kiddin’ yourself.”

“How could you say that?!” You look at him like he’s a monster. Daryl clenches his jaw. “They’re our friends, our family! We can’t just give ‘em up for dead as soon as things go south! Not after everything!”

Daryl throws away the bone in his hand and looks at you with fury. Don’t you get it? Merle, Sophia, Andrea, Lori, T-Dog, Dale, the list goes on and on. You’re the only one he knows for sure he has left and he’ll be damned if he has to add your name to the list too because you want to search for ghosts. You are his responsibility now. His voice is loud when he says, “Yeah, we should! ‘Cause if you saw those tracks y’know what it means? Means other people saw ‘em too. Bad people. And if ya go ‘round there, lighting fires and singin’ those stupid kid songs you sing all day like you’re in a fuckin’ musical or some shit y’know what they’re gonna do? They’re gon’ kill ya, or worse. So drop the fuckin’ topic and finish yer dinner.”

There really is no room for argument. You drop your gaze to the floor and gulp down the lump in your throat, bringing your knees to your chest. Everything is silent for at least an hour, the only sounds coming from the crackling fire and Daryl’s chewing. 

And then you call his name. 

“Daryl?” Your voice is different; breathier, quieter. Almost like you can barely string the letters together. “I don’t feel very well.”

He’s on his feet in a second, the argument forgotten as soon as he heard your mumbled call. In three quick steps he’s standing in front of you. He kneels so you’re the same height and cups the side of your face. “Wha’s wrong?”

You blink sluggishly, revealing your dilated pupils, and lick your lips. “I don’t know,” you slur. Your breathing gets heavier. “I think– Oh God, I’m so hot,” you complain, almost ripping the zipper of your jacket in your haste to take it off. You throw it away like it’s made of molten lava. Before he can stop you, you take off your long sleeved shirt, leaving you in just a tank top, and lean back against the fallen tree trunk with a relieved sigh. 

It doesn’t make any sense, Daryl thinks. It’s almost winter in Georgia, you should be freezing, but there are no goosebumps littering your skin that might signal you are cold in any way. In fact, you’re even trying to roll your cargo pants up to relieve your legs from a nonexistent blistering heat. 

Daryl presses his hand to your forehead and is surprised to find it slick with sweat. “Y’re burning up,” he says, though he guesses you could probably already tell. He takes one of your arms and inspects it closely, looking for any wounds that could potentially be infected. “Where ya bit?”

You shake your head. “No, no. I didn’t see any walkers today.”

Your arms are in pristine condition, save for some sparse moles and freckles and a single healed scratch on your forearm he remembers you got from running around the woods so carelessly. There’s no sign of a bite or infected cut.

“Did ya get close to anyone sick back at the prison?” He knows it’s stupid to ask– everyone had taken their rounds of antibiotics to prevent another possible outbreak, and it’s also been a week since the prison fell. If you had been infected, you would’ve showed symptoms earlier on, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

“No, I was with Beth ‘n Judy.” Suddenly, you gasp in pain and clutch your lower stomach, pressing your thighs together. “Daryl, it hurts,” you whimper.

The pain in your voice breaks his heart. You look so small, curled up in a tight ball like a wounded animal. He brings you into his lap and shushes you, “I know, I know.” He rubs your back in an attempt to soothe you. “Just lemme think for a second, ‘kay? M’gonna fix ya.”

He wrecks his brain for a solution but keeps coming up blank. He doesn’t have any idea as to what the hell caused this– one second you were fine and then the other you were bending over in pain. Did you touch something? Eat something? Was the water contaminated? Did some poisonous plant graze your skin? Was the rabbit he killed infected and he didn’t notice? 

The tip of your nose tickles his neck as it moves from his collarbone up to his jaw, your rib cage expanding beneath his broad hand when you take a deep breath. He grunts at the strange sensation. “What are y’doin’, girl?”

Your hands curl around his shoulders, the leather of his vest crinkling beneath your tight grip. “You smell so good,” you mewl, taking in another whiff of his scent.

What the fuck.

He doesn’t know where the random compliment came from. He knows you have to be lying though– it’s been weeks since his last shower. His last one was five days before the prison fell and it wasn’t even a proper shower, just a scrub down with a rag, a bucket of water and some soap they found in the last supply run. That’s why he says, albeit a little disheartened, “Y’re talking nonsense.”

You shift in his lap, pressing your chests together and Daryl has to force himself not to react to the feeling of your boobs against his chest or to the movement of your wiggling hips over his crotch. “Am not, am not,” you babble, pressing small wet kisses to his neck and trailing your palms down his strong arm. “You– you smell so good. Feel so good. So big. I–” your breath hitches when you grind against him, relief morphing your previously pained features. “I need you, Daryl.”

His hands that were previously laying limp on either side of him are suddenly held by your softer, smaller ones and moved to your thighs. He drops his gaze, watches you control his hands. Up and down, up and down. The light coming from the fire illuminates the remnants of your dinner. You shift directions and now his hands are on your ass, forcing him to squeeze and grope as you keep grinding against him. 

He stares intently at the leftover mushrooms and all of a sudden he’s 23 years old and Merle’s laughing his ass off as Daryl finishes the dinner his older brother had insisted on cooking. He remembers now, the desperation clawing at his chest when the shrooms started making effect. Remembers how Merle dragged him to a club in the city and patted his back in encouragement. “Go wild, baby brother! Lord knows ya need this.”

Misery is heavy on his shoulders. He wants to throw up– he was wrong before. He did see those mushrooms before. He had eaten them and been under their control. And now you were suffering the same fate he had all those years ago. Because of him, because he failed to realise sooner. 

You move his hands up to your waist, your stomach, your breasts. He never wanted it to be like this. He had hoped, stupid as it was to dream about something other than mere survival, that if he ever got the courage to confess his feelings it’d be when everyone was safe again. When you didn’t have to sleep in tents and cars and pray to God he found any semblance of food. When you’d finally have a house, or a room, or at least a bed. 

He’d be soft with you, just like you were with him every day. 

Now, as you grind and moan above him in a lust filled rut, that dream will remain that. Just a dream. 

He tears his hands from your grip, one settling on one side of your hip and the other cradling your cheek. Heat emanates from your skin like you’re a furnace. Daryl leans forward, lips brushing yours as he promises, “M’gonna make it better. That okay?”

You’re not in the right state of mind but he still asks for any semblance of peace of mind. 

“Please,” you whimper, little crystal beads gathering on your waterline.

After months of pining, he finally closes the distance between you and presses your lips together in a firm kiss. Your mouth is soft and plain against his, trusting him enough to follow his every command as he devours you completely. He uses the hand on your hip to help you smooth down your otherwise stuttered grinding, drinking down every sweet little moan and gasp he elicits out of you. 

That’s what you are– sweet. Sweet to touch and taste and feel. Sweet even in the way you cling to him, use him to relieve the affliction between your legs he accidentally caused. 

Daryl holds you by the back of your neck, feels the warmth of your breath as you moan his name.  “More. I need more,” you cry. The tear tracks on your cheeks glimmer in the warm fire light. “M’so empty. Need you to fuck me. Please, please, please,” you beg like a broken record, forcing your fist into Daryl’s chest and twisting his heartstrings without mercy. 

“Don’t cry, doll face,” he rasps, brushing away your fresh wave of tears. You inhale shakily, leaning into his touch and nuzzling his palm like a touch starved kitten. Your hands tremble as you unbutton your jeans, struggling to pull them down from how sweaty you are and how sticky the insides of your thighs became. Daryl silences you every whine with a kiss and helps you pull them down to your shins, not willing to risk taking off both your shoes and pants completely in case you need to make a quick escape.

“I said I’s gonna fix ya and I am. Just need a couple minutes first.” You make another noise of complaint that turns into a relieved sigh when Daryl pulls your panties to the side and teases your folds with the tip of his fingers. “Need to get ya ready first. This all for me?” He asks, gathering all the slick dripping out of you. 

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes closed in bliss as he toys with you. You nudge your noses together. “Always for you, Daryl. Only you.”

You really need to stop playing with his feelings like that. You’re talking out of your ass, he tells himself, letting your desire and need for relief control your words. Still, it’s nice to hear. He can’t deny that. Maybe he can live in this fantasy bubble a little longer, at least until reality crashes down on you both and you have to come to terms with what happened and decide to never see him again. 

He circles your weeping hole, taunting you, then plunges a lone finger inside when you look like you’re ready to pounce on him. It’s easy, oh so easy, for him to slip in. He thought it would be harder, given the fact that he knew you haven’t slept with anyone since the apocalypse started. Not that he kept an eye on you or anything, he just happened to notice how your tent and cell were always silent, much like his. But you’re so wet that your cunt practically swallowed him right in.

You tap his shoulder needily, mouthing the word “more”, and bite your lip to stay quiet when he adds a second finger and then a third. You could cry from how happy you are right now. 

“That enough for ya, ya spoiled girl?” He scoffs, rubbing circles on your swollen clit with his thumb. 

You can only nod as he buries his fingers up to his knuckles, curling them and feeling the rough calluses as he prods inside you in search of your soft spot. When your loudest moan yet lets him know he found it, he abuses it, creating loud squelching noises that have him smiling. 

Euphoria sends a shiver down your spine and makes your entire body shake as you cum, a small stream of clear liquid hitting Daryl’s wrist and dripping down to his jeans. “Shit,” he whispers, amazed. 

He made you squirt.

Daryl’s still staring at his dripping wrist as you paw at him with a heaving chest, fingers curling around his brown plaid shirt. Your nails could nearly break the fabric. “You promised,” you sob. “You promised you’d fix it. That you’d fuck me. Don’t you want me?”

He tears his gaze away from the mess between your legs in shock. How could you ever think he doesn’t want you? When you’ve consumed his every waking thought and haunted his every dream. When the only thing he wanted to do when you looked at him with those glimmering eyes was to follow your every command word for word. When he didn’t want to just fuck you– he wanted to keep you safe and warm, wanted to make sure you’d never know hunger.

He grabs your jaw, fingers tightly pressing on your warm cheeks, and snarls. “Don’t ever think I don’t want ya.” He tugs you to him so he can kiss you, unbuckling his belt with one hand and pulling down the zipper of his jeans. Your own hand joins his and squirms under the rough fabric so you can take his cock out from behind his boxers. His jaw clenches at the feeling of your soft hand around him, so different from his own. Untouched by decades of manual work, protected by dutiful applications of hand creams (he's heard you tell Beth how dry your hands are now and how much you miss your favourite hand cream. He’s been looking for some on every supply run ever since).

He spreads all the wetness stuck to his fingers over his cock, his stomach doing a summersault when he sees you biting your lower lip in want. You guide him to your entrance, gasping in unison when the mushroom tip slips past your soaking wet folds. Slowly, you sink yourself down, Daryl mouthing at your neck as you get used to the thickness of his cock as it threatens to split you in half. 

“Relax,” Daryl grunts, the scruff covering his cheeks scratching at the tender skin of your cleavage. He goes back to playing with your clit, knowing it’ll allow the tension to leave your muscles and he’ll be able to push in the remaining two inches. 

Once he’s buried to the hilt, you take a shuddering breath in and slowly start to bounce. “Wanted this for so long,” you babble. “Wanted you, Daryl. A-And now you want me,” you smile, increasing the speed of your bouncing. You chant, “You want me, you want me, you want me.”

Daryl nods, teeth gritted as he feels you tighten around him, walls pulsing. You collapse on his chest, hips still grinding in search of any form of friction. With a firm and secure grip, he grabs your ass and uses it as leverage so he can pound you down on him. For once, he’s not worried about loud noises or stray walkers or even unknown strangers stumbling into the scene. No, he just worries about you and your sweet cunt keeping his cock warm; about your lips on his neck, your hands gripping his hair and your dulcet “uh uh uh’s” ringing in his ears as you cum for the second time.

He lifts you off of him just in time to shoot ropes of white all over his shirt, biting your neck to muffle his grunts of pleasure. For once in what seems like a lifetime, the walker infested woods are completely still, only both of your laboured breathing breaking the unusual silence. 

Until you speak in a meek voice and it’s like he’s suddenly doused in cold water. “Daryl?”

He drops his forehead to your clavicle and shuts his eyes tightly, heaving a sigh. This is it– the moment where he loses you, where you run away. Forever disgusted with him. Afraid of him for breaking your trust. 

After another beat of silence, you call his name again. “What happened?”

He straightens his back and rubs his face. He clears his throat. “It was the mushrooms,” he refuses to look at you as he explains the events of the night, unable to stomach the look of disgust he’s sure is all over your pretty face. “The ones you picked up today. I thought I didn’t know them but I did. They’re some kind of… aphrodisiac or some shit like that. Merle…” he trails off, skipping over the reason he knew about them in the first place. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. “Y’were feeling so sick ‘n those things… with the amount you ate they would’ve– they would’ve killed ya if I didn’t…”

“You saved me,” you state, cradling his face so that he can see you. His face is all scrunched up like he wants to cry and he hates himself for it– he has no right to feel like shit. He shakes his head. “You did. You saved me. I would’ve died if you didn’t do as I said, as I wanted you to.” You kiss his lips chastely. “Y’know, I meant what I said earlier. While we were…”

“Nah,” he scoffs. “Y’were just saying shit ‘cause of the drugs. S’okay, ya don’t have to worry ‘bout my feelings.”

“No,” you frown, disconcerted that he always seems to bring himself down without even realising it. “I meant it. I’ve wanted you for a while, since– since the CDC, actually. When we played that card game after dinner and ya helped me get to bed since I was too drunk to even stand.” You smile as you remember the feeling of his arm around your waist and the soft pat on your head once you were resting on the pillow. You tuck some strands of hair behind his ear and his throat dries. Shrugging, you say, “I just never thought you liked me that way.”

Daryl weighs his options, wonders if he should take a leap of faith or pretend he’s never thought of you that way. This is too much for him. He’s scared to bare his chest wide open only for you to dislike what’s inside. But then he sees the earnest look in your eye and behind it, the fear that he won’t say anything at all. 

“I do,” he gets out through the fist clutching his vocal chords. “Like you. Like that, I mean. I–” He shuts his eyes at how useless he’s with words (another reason why you deserve someone better than him). However, instead of rolling your eyes at him or making a derisive sound like he expected, you simply giggle at his uselessness, reaching for him once more. 

He lets you kiss him and touch him as much as you want. You trace his brow bone and cheekbones with the soft pads of your fingers, play with the ends of matted hair and twirl them around your index. When you yawn, he makes sure you have your top and jacket back on and lets you rest on his chest. He stretches his arm so he can reach his discarded crossbow and leaves it on his side. “C’mon, go to sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

pls reblog if u enjoyed it, it’ll make me twirl my hair and kick my feet :3

[srngrque]

reporting live

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. fluff. Trent who was rather interested in the reporter than the actual report he had to give.

Time was ticking on a thin thread for you as your supervisor might call you within five minutes if you do not interview, at least, one player of liverpool. You have been in the reporting field for at least seven months and you now also have juniors yet for you to move like an amateur was hurting your pride.

You are social issues reporter, going around different cities, and write an interesting jaw-dropping report then, call it a day. Sport reporting was not your forte, it is almost like . . fork found in your backpack. Simply out of place. The million dollar question ringing in your head was why were you here in Anfield Stadium at the first place but you face-palmed yourself on accepting to cover for your senior who was in her maternity leave. You had always hated whenever you had to cover for a reporter doing sports. No particular reasoning, just childhood trauma.

You saw all the liverpool footballer players walking out from the dressing room after a hot win. You crossed path with the tall, charismatic dutch leader of liverpool to the small growing liverpool superstar Endo but you had your goal set on the biggest prize, the player with a fresh trim, and his headphone on as every reporter tried catching his attention.

Trent Alexander Arnold, the star of Anfield and liverpool. Your supervisor might as well, move you to the Sports section if you got to interview Trent; you were not looking forward to that but a lady has bills to pay. You sighed as you had to save your job before it slipped away from your grip.

Just one interview, anyway. What is the harm? You held the sleeve of his tracker suit lightly, you needed this, you needed a bang.

"Great win in Anfield, innit? Please let us know about how are you feeling about the win?" You asked reaching your microphone out to the man. His gaze froze, so did his feet in front of you. It could be the audacity to block his way toward the team bus or the glitch of mischievousness in his eyes that flickered on your red hue cheeks.

Trent chuckled as he moved slightly forward removing his headphone, your eyes set on the man completely compelled from the bridge of his nose, deep doe eyes to his captivating smile. Everything about the man was setting you up for a failure, realizing how much of a bad idea this was.

"Yeah, yeah it is great team win but to become the last scorer for the win is a different achievement, so I am proud and happy." Trent answered, his eyes never leaving yours for a minute. His heavy scouser accent oozed out every word as Trent kept his smile intact.

His eyes glanced at you, noting the rose hue on your cheeks, one hand slightly shaking to hold onto the microphone and the other holding onto the notebook. "Come here, love. Let me hold that for you." He mumbled gripping on the microphone as your fingers brushed on his and you were secretly praying to every god that was staring upon you to not show your slight jump after the touch.

"Okay so-" You paused, clearly out of the atmosphere as you were in no place to check out players nor drool out your delusional ideas when you have a very angry supervisor waiting on the clock and an impatient cameraman behind you. "Yeah, I cannot lie, you . . you were great in the field." You complimented him quickly but you were not lying about it. With the long passes, and all the chances Trent created for the team; anyone can tell he was born to become a football player who succeeds with legacy.

"You were watching?" Trent asked raising his eyebrows in question. Utterly confused, you paused to flip your notebook to look at the man in front of you. With the silent eye contact, your neck burnt hot. You nodded sternly, a thin smile on your face. "Of course, I was watching, I mean, I am a reporter, can't be missing out on the main point of the whole show."

Trent kissed his teeth, he smirked, "So, tell me more. How was I on the field? Did you like what you see?" He winked at your direction. Your mind went blank, in what position does he have to be to flirt openly with a camera panning on his face? The burning hot sensation on your back came straight up and your heart beating fast was not helping to form words, "Like . . like I said, you were great. You are the star of liverpool after all." You sweetly smiled.

Trent had the cheeky smile on his face, his eyes lingering on your lips before glancing upward to your eyes. He knew what he was doing to you moving closer to the barrier between the reporters and the players.

You cleared your throat. "You are also the player of the match." You trailed off; Trent leaned closer. Call it the stadium being loud for him to not hear you clearly or he simply wanted to be close to you, to mesmerize the small moles on your face, to engulf himself on your warm scent.

"Are you excited for your next big game against Manchester City?" You inquired. All the back and forth staring and silence with Trent will not colour your supervisor impressed at all. You need to interview someone else that will not . . leave you speechless in minutes.

"Well it depends, to be very honest with you. Will you be in the next game?" Trent further pestered.

You furrowed your eyebrows in slight annoyance at the player for making everything about you while the whole fanbase would want to know more about him.

The cameraman behind you almost dropped his equipment taken back by the question. You did not know . . how to respond to the player who was attacking you with his doe eyes. Nervously, you laughed, "I cannot be certain about that. Are you and your team ready? It is one of the anticipated game of the season." You diverted his topic back to what you needed at the first place.

Trent stared at you without responding to your question, you quickly started shaking your leg anxiously as your eyes lingered at almost all the players leaving to go back to the training ground from the stadium. Your chances were blowing every second Trent silent in front of you.

During this period, you started considering finding other jobs, as you started making mental notes. With thoughts looming around your head, you did not come to realize Trent walked a few steps toward you, nibbling on his bottom teeth. He removed the microphone away from his lips, coming forward for a conversation that is sealed between you and the liverpool player.

You flinched at his hot breathe hitting your skin, as he gently held onto your forearm to keep you in position knowing you will move away from his contact.

You coughed away from his grip. "Have a great day then. We cannot wait till what magic liverpool can bring to Anfield once again."

"And you too, have a great day but i did not quite catch your name." He inquired with his wicked smirk playing on his face. He wants me gone, jobless. Clearly, with zero intention to support my penniless lifestyle.

You smiled, "If you do goal against Manchester City, I will let you know."

"Should we seal the deal with a kiss then, perhaps?"

[mrsbrookemunson]

Hi, love you’re writing! I was wondering if you were open to a Sebastian request… there’s a HC that the reason his hair is always so chaotic is due to Solomon taking sheep shears to his head, and I was wondering if you could use that to do a small fluff, possibly revealing a crush, between Sebastian and MC, in which he’s received another Solomon haircut and is feeling really self conscious about it, so MC assures him it’s not so bad/he’s still handsome

I'm not even kidding, I saw this request and immediately had to do it because I love it so much - I recently went to Universal (Islands of Adventure) and saw the Hogwarts castle and Hogsmeade... I may have cried a little. Summary: The request Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x MC (No pronouns used) Warnings: Uncle Solomon (there, I said it), angst, fluff, food mentioned, use of 'MC', honestly just real fluffy fluff which I feel like we don't have a lot of. Wrote this in one sitting so most definitely typos. If you're on a computer, the pictures might be formatted weirdly. Contains (Or Lacks): No specific house mentioned. The main plot of the game still happened, but Sebastian's side quest did not. Which means Solomon's alive, but Anne is not cured. Set in summer.

(Pictures Found on Pinterest)

The summer sun was always a lovely feeling after the long and cold winters that occurred in the Scottish Highlands. You could admit the snow was pretty, but the way the warmth engulfed you as your journey took you through fields of flowers, across crystal clear water streams, all whist surrounds by tall mountains that were accented with green. Green was everywhere - green grass, green trees, green bushes, and everything so forth. Each breath you took filled you with peace.

Then there you were.

Feldcroft.

It was only a month and a half ago since you last saw your best friend, Sebastian. The end of your 6th year left you torn. Why? Because ever since you and him met in 5th year, you couldn't deny the spark that ignited when your eyes first met his. It was almost as if Merlin himself wrote in the stars that the two of you would find each other one day. And thank Merlin you did. He was there for you during your fight in the Goblin War, he was there for you in the search to find all the answers that led to more questions, and he was there for you when you lost Professor Fig. But, there were lows that came with it.

You couldn't help him. Over the last two school years, you've tried and failed to have found a cure for his twin sister Anne. You both now knew Rookwood was behind the cruelty and not a goblin, but what good did it do when you were too blinded by the fight to have forgotten to force the answers Sebastian so desperately needed out of him? At least, that's what you tell yourself. Sebastian had to have told you a million times not to blame yourself, but you couldn't follow through. The only way to fix things was to find a cure for Anne.

You clutched the handle of your trunk as your eyes caught the all too familiar well of Feldcroft.

"Off on another adventure?"

You turned your head with a raised eyebrow toward Ignatia Wildsmith. With a chuckle, you continued forward.

"Ah! MC, good to see you again!" Bernard Ndiaye, the Feldcroft shopkeeper, called out.

You smiled and walked up to him. "Hello, Bernard. Doing well?"

"As good as one can be," he answered. "What brings you to town?"

"Oh, I'm just visiting a friend," you replied, vaguely. "Sebastian," you added.

"Ah... young Sallow. I've seen quite a bit of him recently."

"Hm?" You gave him a questionable look.

"He's been helping the folks around here with some labor. He's been a great help to me, keeping my shop tidy and stocked!"

"Sounds like Sebastian," you laugh.

He echoed your laughter. "I shouldn't have been surprised of your arrival, he's been talking about you."

"Has he?" You perked.

"Oh yes... all good things, of course." He grinned, smugly.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him in suspicion. "I'll take your work for it..." you dragged in amusement. "Well, I should probably be going, they are expecting me."

"Yes! Yes! Don't let me keep them waiting." He waved you off as he takes a sip of his tea.

You smiled and waved goodbye. You walked away toward the Sallows' house which you deemed as the most whimsical looking one out of Feldcroft, but maybe you were biased. You sighed as you took in the house. It was small, but beautiful. You took note of the new elements that have appeared since the last time you were here. A few new plants, a few new fruits and vegetables in their garden, even a new painted wood sign that claimed their residency. Everything looked perfectly tended to.

You raise your fist to knock, but before your knuckles could touch the door you heard what sounded like a grunt coming from behind the house. You froze in attempt to make it easier to hear. Your eyebrows furrowed when you heard yet another one. You took a step back from the door and set down your luggage. Your curiosity led your feet around the house, eyes bouncing around to spot the source of the sound.

You stopped over by the training dummies when you heard another sound, louder than had been before. You turned your head rather abruptly knowing you had finally found your conclusion but that backfired when you felt your knees nearly give out on you.

Oh.

Your face flushed when your attention was suddenly drawn to none other than your best friend. Your best friend that you fancied like mad, right here in front of you, skin glistening from sweat, breathing heavily with the occasional grunt as he moved large trunks of wood. Your eyes widened the more you continued to gawk at him, you didn't even notice that your jaw had dropped a little at the sight of him.

He stood up straight and lifted his hat a little to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He let out a long sigh of exhaustion and let his head hang low for a moment before shaking it off and turning his body to where you stood. You swore you saw his soul leave his body when he was smacked in the face by your presence.

He jumped and grasped his chest with a gasp. "Merlin MC, don't do that to me! How long were you standing there?" he scolded.

Your brain didn't process his scolding. You smiled and walked with vigor up to him. Without a word you threw your arms around your neck and pulled him into an embrace. He stiffened for a second before hugging you back

"I missed you," you said.

He wouldn't have admit it in that moment, but hearing your voice after haven't heard it in a while made his stomach flutter. A smile made its way onto his face. "I missed you too."

You pulled away, but not too far as you scanned his face for any changes. He did the same.

"You've grown," you pointed out.

"Have I?" He smirked.

"At least an inch." You narrowed her eyes. "And you got a new freckle... right... there." You poked his cheek.

He jokingly slapped your hand away. "I see you haven't change one bit," he teased.

You rolled your eyes. You raised a hand to block your eyes from the sun. "Merlin Sebastian, how are you wearing a hat right now in this weather?"

You didn't mention it, but you saw the way his cheeks turned a light shade of red.

"Where's your luggage?" he asked.

"At the front." You jutted your head in the direction.

"C'mon, let's get you settled then." He placed a hand at the small of your back and guided you to the front of the house. He grabbed your luggage and brought it inside, holding the door open for you.

The first thing you saw was Anne. She was standing there with a weak smile on her face. She had gotten a lot thinner since last summer when you saw her, and the dark circles under her eyes were more noticeable. It was a jab to your heart seeing her this way, knowing you couldn't control it.

"MC!" she exclaimed, happily.

"Anne!" You opened your arms and hugged the girl.

"How've you been?" she asked, moving so she could look at you as she spoke.

"I've been good - busy - but good." You hesitated at first, but asked, "And you? How have you been feeling?"

"Some days are worse than others, but today has been good. Probably because I knew you'd be here today." You laughed together. "Uncle has gone out to go get supplies for supper tonight, he should be back soon."

Sebastian behind you muttered something incoherently.

Anne looked at him. "Something on your mind?"

He glanced up from the palm of his hand which he had been absentmindedly tracing. He formed his lips into a tight line. "Nope. Nothing at all... I'll be outside if you girls need anything." He was quick to leave.

You grew a little confused at his rushed exit. "Is there anything I should be aware of?"

Anne scoffed a little. "Oh, it's - it's nothing, it's silly." She brought you to sit at the dining table with her. "He's just a little snippy because Solomon gave him a haircut," she explained.

You didn't know whether to laugh or not. "What?"

Anne shook her head a little. "Ever since we were young, after our parents died, every summer Uncle Solomon will give Sebastian a haircut if he thinks it's gotten too long to do labor with."

You grimaced at the thought of that man giving you a haircut and began to felt sympathy for Sebastian the more you thought about it. "Oh..."

"Solomon recently thought it had gotten too long... I have never seen Sebastian fight it more than he did this time. Honestly, I think it had something to do with you coming so soon."

You frowned. "I'd never make fun of him if that's what he thought."

"He knows that, it's just..."

You tilted your head. "It's just... what?"

She leaned in a little. "It's just that he wants to look his best when he's around you."

"Why should that matter?"

She looked a little taken aback. "My Merlin, do you really not know?"

"Know what?"

"You don't!" she exasperated.

"Don't know what?" You were starting to get a little desperate.

Anne looked around as if to make sure no one was listening. "Be honest with me here... do you fancy my brother?"

You nearly choked out your saliva as you gasped in shock. "What?! No! Me?! No!" You avoided her eye contact as well as her wide grin.

"Oh my gods! You do!" She began to laugh as if it was hysterical. "I knew it!" She slapped the table. "And Sebastian told me you didn't think of him that way..." She shook her head. "I should've listened to Ominis." She began to ramble off about you, Sebastian, and Ominis.

"What are you talking about?"

"You can't tell him I told you, but sister to sister you have to know... that my brother - my twin - is totally in love with you."

You blinked a few times as you attempt to process this information. "What?"

"Now before you start asking - "

"Has he told you that?! Since when?! Why has he never told me?!" you blurted.

"He - "

Suddenly, the door swung open. Heavy footsteps treaded in, the wooden floors creaked underneath the new weight. You turned your head and was met with Solomon whose facial expression hadn't changed since the last time you saw him. A deep scowl.

"You're here early," he grumbled.

Your eyes glimpsed at the grandfather clock in their house. You weren't early, in fact you were actually a little late, but there was no way you would correct him. So, instead, you gave a sweet smile. "I had anticipated some interruption during my travels, but lucky for me none came."

He gave a stiff nod and shuffled his way to the kitchen. "Hope you like Shepard's pie."

Even if you didn't, you would never admit it. "Love it!" You eyed Anne who was holding back a giggle.

"Where's that boy?" he asked, unpacking the produce and meat.

"He's outside, working in the back," Anne answered.

He glared. It wasn't directed toward Anne, but it still managed to make you two cower a little. "No manners that boy has! Invites a guest over and then - " The rest of it was mumbled as he stormed out of the house.

You and Anne could hear muffled shouting.

You turned to Anne. "Anne, about Sebastian - " You were interrupted this time by the door. However, Solomon was now accompanied by Sebastian.

So, that's why he's wearing a hat. You thought to yourself.

Solomon shoved his toward the table where you and Anne sat at. He huffed and sat down beside you.

Anne glanced between the two of you with a sly smile. "So, MC... you said you've been busy, doing what exactly?"

"I've been helping Mr. Weekes at Spintwitches Sporting Needs, he has some new ideas for broom upgrades that I've been assisting him with."

"Sebastian told me you were a good flyer, better than Imelda from what he's told me."

Sebastian had seemed to've perked up. "She's the best on the team."

You breathily scoffed. "That's pushing it a little."

"Nonsense, people think you're gonna get chosen for captain in this new year," he said.

"Don't let Imelda hear that, it'd be over her dead body would I get that position," you half-heartedly joke.

"Anything else you've been doing?" Anne inquired, resting her chin against her knuckles.

"I've been helping Mr. Hill with modeling clothes, helping Sirona at the Three Broom Sticks - cleaning and whatnot, helping J. Pippins with potion deliveries, of course running my own shop - "

"Have you been taking breaks?" Sebastian asked.

You frowned a little at his look of concern. "Of course I have been taking breaks, I''m taking one right now, being here." You could tell that didn't ease him. "It's a busy season, but I've been managing."

"But, you've been drinking enough water, right? Eating enough? Sleeping enough?"

Anne could relate this back to the 'he's in love with you' claim, but you could relate it back to the two of them. He's had to care for Anne for a while now and witnessed her downfall, it's to no surprise he'd be protective over your health and making sure you're okay.

"Yes, Sebastian," you assured.

Solomon was cutting carrots (why is that funny to imagine?), when he grumbled to himself about something. He set his knife down shook his head. "Boy! What did I say about wearing hats indoors?"

You eyed Sebastian's expression. It flickered with embarrassment.

"I am not taking off this hat," he argued.

Solomon crossed his arms and stared down Sebastian. "And why is that?"

Sebastian's lip trembled a little. "W-Well, because - " He sighed in defeat, he didn't want to argue in front of you. That was an embarrassment in itself as he learned the more he thought about the day you first met Anne. "Yes, sir."

Solomon went back to cooking. You didn't know whether to watch or not as Sebastian slowly took off his hat. His eyes casted down in shame. Some of his hair was matted down from the sweat while the rest of it had it's own mind. You had never really seen his natural hair, always tamed with gel. This was the first time you had seen the chaos that was Sebastian's hair, and oh how Solomon did not understand it.

Sebastian ran a hand through it, but it only seemed to have stirred it more. The shorter layers sticking out a little, some parts wavy, some parts straight. The longer layers uneven. You deep down hoped that one day it'd be you who'd give his hair the treatment it deserved, because you knew how much Sebastian cared about it.

"I'm just going to step away for a moment - " Sebastian started.

"No, I need your hand in the kitchen," Solomon countered.

Sebastian shut his eyes. His nostrils flared ever-so-slightly as he breathed in sharply. He stood up and walked to the kitchen.

"Due to the arguing, Solomon did haste the cutting process," Anne explained in a hushed tone

"What does he use for it?" You scooted closer toward her so Sebastian nor Solomon heard.

"Sheep shears." Anne cringed at the thought. "I've been fortunate enough to have never experienced it, Sebastian on the other hand..." she paused. "In our second year, Solomon cut it right before the start of first term, and let's just say... it ended him up with an awful nickname."

"Oh, poor Sebastian..." You sympathized.

"After that he learned how to style his hair and built a new reputation for himself, but I know it haunts him every time this season comes around. I think he's just scared you'll somehow lose interest in him all together if you see him - well... this way..."

You frown and looked at Sebastian whose energy drained in the last hour.

"I don't think that's possible," you whisper, unknowingly.

Anne grabbed your hand that laid on the table. "Maybe it's time to tell him that."

You bit your lip. Your nerves grew the more you thought about such a conversation between you and Sebastian. Where you'd reveal the feelings you've contained since the day you met him. Yes, when you met him, you thought he was attractive, but then you got to know him and suddenly he was beautiful. Inside and out, and that's what scared you.

Were you enough for someone beautiful?

You know Anne said he liked you back, but what if it was all a big misunderstanding? It wouldn't have been the first time.

Could you afford to get your heartbroken by Sebastian?

You think not. Which is why when you got your plate of food, you managed to build up no appetite. You pushed around the potato meat and vegetables until it was nothing but a pile of mush. You could feel the heat of Sebastian's gaze burn into you, but you did you best to avoid it. Eventually, Anne allowed the awkward silence to take over until everyone was done with dinner.

Sebastian stood up. "I'm gonna go get some air," he announced before leaving.

You watched him carefully as he left.

Anne picked at her fingernails. "I'm gonna go help Uncle with the rhubarb pie," she said, slowly, as if hinting toward something. "If you know... you wanna... talk." She eyed the door.

You picked it up her cues rather easily. "Yeah," you breathed. "Yeah, maybe that's for the best." You cleared your throat as the both of you stood.

Anne could read by your stance how nervous you were. She grasped your upper arm. and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Hey, believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about. I know my brother better than anyone and I know... you're everything to him."

You could've argued against that, but chose to bite your tongue and nod. She smiled and gave your upper arm one more squeeze. She walked past you to the kitchen. You sighed and glanced at the door. After what felt like a lifetime you took the first step toward exiting the house until you felt the cool breeze against your face. You ventured out a little and turned your head to your right. It was where you two met up the day you first came to Feldcroft all that time ago, before you met Anne, before him and Solomon got into that fight, and before you told Sebastian all about the keepers.

You walked up the steps and to him where he was leaning against the railing. His back was still turned to you which prompted you to rest against the railing next to him. The two of you wallow in the silence.

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking the silence.

"What for?"

"For being distance."

"It's okay - "

"It's not okay..." He groaned a little. "It's stupid." He shook his head.

"What is? I can tell you, whatever it is, it is not stupid if it's affecting you this much." You knew what it was, but for you to truly understand, you needed to hear his feelings on it.

He shakily sighed. "I know you've noticed, how could you not notice?" He tugged at a strand of his hair which stuck up and out of place. "I swear he treats me as though I'm still a child."

"Sebastian..."

"Don't even lie and tell me it doesn't look bad."

"Could you look at me, please?" He hesitates but does so. "Here..." You stand upright, guiding him to do the same. Cautiously, you began to run your fingers through his hair. You don't verbally mention the way he shuddered immediately when doing so, or when he sighs again, this time of content. You smile, and continue to use your fingers to carefully style his hair. "This is the first time you've ever let me do this."

"Is it really?" He sounded absent. You noticed he had close his eyes and was now leaning into your touch a little more than before. "I've been missing out..."

"Just give me the word and I'll do this at any time for you." You smiled even though he couldn't see it.

"Careful... I think I'd tell you to never stop at some point."

You chuckle but don't respond. You finish by brushing his bangs to the side. Your eyes flickered all around his face. You were so close, you could've counted every freckle, every eyelash, every scar and imperfection that was perfection simply because it was him. Without another thought, your fingers dragged to trace the side of his face down to his jawline. During that, his eyes slowly opened. Your hand didn't leave his face as his eyes bored into yours.

Have they always looked at you that way?

"Have I told you lately that no matter what... you're beautiful... to me?" you stammered.

His breath hitched in his throat. "No," he breathed. "But, then again, I've been doing a terrible job reminding you that as well."

"We ought to really work on that together then, hm?"

He lifted up a hand and pushed your hair back behind your ear. "Yeah..."

"Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"Kiss me."

You could only describe the moment as the stars having finally aligned. He wasted no time placing his lips against yours. There was no barrier of friendship keeping him from doing the thing he's been wanting to do for so long. You both have well crossed that safe line and now there was so turning back. Sebastian pulled you closer as he deepened the kiss. He wanted to make up for all the time he let go by without making you his. And he really wanted you to be his as much as he wanted to be yours. He wanted to memorize the feeling of your lips against his, your body pressed to his body, the tickle of your hair of his face, the feeling of your fingers in his hair. All that he wanted to consume was you.

The two of you pulled away to catch your breath. You both laughed and leaned into each other as you processed the moment as it was really happening.

You sighed, happily. "You know, your uncle is going to be wondering where we went."

"I honestly could care less about that right now." He couldn't stop smiling. He goes to lean in again but is interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

"As much as I'd love for you guys to continue your moment, I was ordered to tell you that the pie is ready," Anne said with an amused glint in her eye. "I'd also like to mention that I told you so, to both of you." She spun on her heel and began to slowly walk away.

You and Sebastian watched Anne walk away with wide eyes. Sebastian intertwined your fingers with his. "I guess we do have all of summer to spend time with each other."

"I'd like to think it wouldn't end just there," you tease as the you both start to walk back to the house.

"Don't you worry, you're gonna be stuck with me for life. Bad haircuts and all." He nudges you, playfully.

A perfect life.

Your eyes soften. "Lucky me," you whisper.

[writingoddess1125]

I'm not sure if you take CoD requests but I was wondering if maybe you could do headcanons for Alejandro(if you write for him) with a reader who's Cajun, has a Cajun accent, and calls him Sha(its Cajun slang for sweetheart/dear/darling)

If you don't write for Alejandro, maybe Price or Soap

Oh this is so cute!!

Support me on Ko-Fi

Alejandro with Cajun Reader

PSA - I did a lot of research so I tried 😅

• You get stationed out to the main base in Los Vaqueros, tasked to help the people there and work alongside Colonel Alejandro Vargas.

• Arriving on a helicopter you smile as you meet Alejandro smiling at you. "Welcome to Las Almas my friend- Heard great things about you"

• "Boujour! Comment ça s’plume? Alejandro no?" You say cheerfully clearly throwing off the man at the French being thrown his way- But a French he was incredibly unfamiliar with

• "Sargent (Y/L/N)? Correct?" You nod calmly, The Colonel smiking a bit- "We must leave soon then"

• "Don't be like that Cher" You say with a laugh and watch the man's face twist in mild confusion still.

• "Sha?" He repeated, you realizing quickly your mistake with a hearty laugh. "It's a term of endearment- Like Darlin'- Now, You said we had to leave No? Allons!"

• Alejandro nods and leads you off to your station, Still a bit confused over what the fuck you were saying-

• After a few weeks on base he starts to understand, realizing you are speaking a form of French mixed with English. The two of you talking quite often now as he shows you around Las Almas and the situation there.

• "They told me you are American-" Alejandro questioned as you two drove through the town.

• "I am-" You clarified with a smile. "From Louisiana" Alejandro nodded his head like he suddently got it.

• "Isn't uh it Creole? Es.. That's the American word right?" Alejandro questions, making you shake your head. "Two differen' peoples Sha-" You say as you try to explain the difference.

• This poor man is so confused- Feels like he's in school again and was just given a very hard exam that he didn't study for.

• "Creole is more City and Cajun is country" You simplified, which seemed to ease the confusion for the time being.

• The two of you become fast friends- You of course a chatter box and always wanting to learn and Alejandro always wanting to teach and see new things.

• Alejandro begins to teach you more Spanish while you teach him French-

• He likes to tease about how you talk with your hands and your passion behind your speaking. Finds it funny

• You two do have arguments at times, like an old couple do at stupid things. However rank is never pulled or acknowledged since it's always fun/personal banter

• However what truly soothed over any issues was the food- The two of you becoming quick food buddies as you'd share your guys food with each other.

• Alejandro walked straight to you on base early morning after a briefing, staring hard at you as he held a wrapped item in hand-

"...This is a La Guacamaya torta- It is one of my favorites... I added extra chicharrón" He flexes as he shows off the item. You nodding in agreement that it looked pretty damn good.

• "Not bad Not bad-" You smile, Before reaching for your own item with a grin. Pulling out a well worn Tupperware bowl-

• "Now, Had to improvise is bit- since Not many of my ingredients in this neck of the woods so I did so?' Pastalaya and found ya a le Boudin to have later"

• You say proudly showing off your lunch. Alejandro nodding also impressed- Before the two of you switch lunches and sit together to eat happily.

• It didn't take a genius for others to figure out you were buddy buddy with the Colonel- While some didn't like it, most warmed up to you and stared in your joy and willingness to expand-

• While you let anyone else know clearly they could go fuck themselves-

• However Alejandro was always your ride or die.

• The two of you shit talk for hours while eating... Half the time Not even understanding each other as you share new insults and curse words.

• He was your best friend, and you his-

[infiniteimaginings]

True Loves Kiss (Rumplestiltskin x Male!Reader)

Summary: Rumplestiltskin is an old friend of yours, you've known him for quite a while. He introduced you to his new maid for saving a kingdom from the great ogre war, what will happen when this 'maid' tells you her research for breaking curses? Pronouns: You/Yours, He/Him Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 4.6k A/N: This is specifically because someone asked for it in the comments (@aggsh-shs) and I will always write for once upon a time. This is also way longer than I expected it to be, can you guys tell I'm obsessed with this show?

The enchanted forest, a beautiful and daring realm filled with magic and wonder. A world where fairytales exist, where happy endings are prominent. But, where there is light, there is darkness. Where there is magic, there are loopholes. Where there is good, there is evil.

Within the enchanted forest, there was an extremely powerful man…well, he wasn’t a man per say. Man is humanity, and this creature was far from human. He had green, scaly skin, a dark grin, no sense of morals it seemed. He was a magical being, blessed or cursed with immortality, he was a witch, a monster. This being used his time in the enchanted forest to gain all the knowledge he possibly could by intimidation, he ripped people's hearts out, he created curses, he destroyed lives to be as powerful as possible.

This being, this monster, this crocodile, was named Rumplestiltskin. He was also known as the dark one, a magical entity that is corrupted with darkness, enveloped in the heinous shadows that surround the name, the whispers of the past dark ones swirling in their heads.

He resided in a fairly large dark castle with what seemed to be thousands of floors, rooms, everything. It was such a large castle, yet he was the only one who resided in such a space. No one was concerned if he was lonely though, why would people worry if the monster who comes to their towns and invokes fear into them is lonely?

No one was concerned until Rumplestiltskin had been spinning straw into gold, a usual pastime for him, it helped him think. His thinking time had been ruined by someone walking through a door to the side of his main room, his prize.

By prize it’s more of a condition. He had protected a kingdom from the great ogre war, meaning that he created a magical barrier around the kingdom to keep the ogres at bay. Therefore giving no reason for the kingdom to send their men to kill themselves for. Within this condition, he requested their princess in exchange for his help, the king disagreeing but the princess went ahead and sacrificed herself.

Her name was Belle, she was a bright and well read woman. She also was a prisoner of Rumplestiltskin who couldn’t leave. She was upset of course, but she would do anything to protect her kingdom. Her prisoner rank had been promoted to being a maid, she cleaned, dusted, poured tea, all of the sorts. That, in Rumplestiltskin's opinion, did not involve asking all the questions she decided she wanted to ask.

“Do you ever get lonely?” The brown haired woman asked, dusting along the shelves. She looked at the scaled man with soft eyes, no longer worried about whether he would hurt her or not, if he wanted to he would’ve already.

Rumplestiltskin continued to spin the straw, pulling threads of gold easily without thought. He didn’t even look away from the spinner, “No.” He spoke simply, foot stepping on the press to make the wheel spin. Belle pursed her lips at the vague response and continued to clean, “You must get lonely at least a bit, you’re always by yourself.” She spoke, her English accent ringing through his ears. He sighed, gaze flickering to her before going back to his work, “I’m not by myself…” He spoke to her, his voice in a concentrated mutter. “All the time, at least.” He added on the statement, his features softening slightly before concentrating once more. Belle put her hands on her hips, “I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, but I have not seen anyone else come through here other than that thief.” She told him, walking over to him with the confidence no one truly has to the dark one.

Rumplestiltskin stopped spinning his straw and looked at Belle with a bored expression, “I don’t have tea parties with the people I associate myself with.” He spoke, standing abruptly to walk to the door. Belle stayed near the spinner, frowning slightly, he was so adamant that he wasn’t lonely but, why was he never with anyone?

Just as Rumplestiltskin walked to the main door to exit, someone from the other side had already opened it. It was a man, he was looking down into a satchel overflowed with scrolls, quills, and possibly other things, but from where Belle was she couldn’t see it clearly. A few larger rolls of paper escaped the satchel as the man walked through the door. What surprised Belle though was that Rumplestiltskin wasn’t surprised by the visitor, he had rolled his eyes and picked up the papers, shaking them in front of the man's face.

That man was you. You picked your head up from looking down and smiled graciously, reaching to grab the papers but Rumplestiltskin pulled them away with his devilish smirk. “Your satchel is overflowing, did you steal them? Buy them? I would ask if you intimidated the owners but…” He looked you up and down, tilting his head, unimpressed, “You’re not an intimidating person.” He spoke simply. The scaled man tapped your head with the paper and you gently but swiftly took the papers with a soft glare.

Belle was curious to the interaction, she placed her duster down and walked forward, hands grazing the chairs as she walked closer. The two of you continued to interact until Belle leaned her body into your view, waving, “Hello.” She spoke with a smile but curious eyes.

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Hello…there?” You spoke with a questioning gaze to Rumplestiltskin who shot a dirty look to Belle for interrupting. The dark one nodded reluctantly, gesturing to Belle without looking at her, “Meet my maid, whatever her name is.” He waved his hands around as a movement of not remembering.

“My name is Belle.” She spoke right after him so you would know. You nodded in understanding, humming at the word ‘maid’. You shook her hand and introduced yourself, saying your name and telling her that you’ve known Rumplestiltskin for years.

She tilted her head with intrigue, “How come I’ve never seen you?” She asked, wondering how after all this time a man could show up and just…be well acquainted with someone people find terrifying. Rumplestiltskin sucked his teeth, “He’s been on a long journey for a few months.” He answered plainly, picking at his nails. He suddenly pointed to Belle, “How about you do what actual maids do and make tea instead of asking questions?” He asked, more of an order.

Belle gently smiled, used to the treatment and grabbed the porcelain tea set, “I thought you didn’t have tea parties with people you associate with.” She spoke jokingly, repeating his words from earlier. The man frowned and poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, “And I thought when I received you, you would be more quiet.” He muttered under his breath, not even looking at Belle. You had gently smacked Rumplestilskin in his shoulder and told him to ‘play nice’ to which he scowled about.

This routine had gone on for a few more weeks. You would appear at the castle, or wake up there after falling asleep on the main room table. You would hold banter and conversation with Rumplestiltskin, the man would go do some errands, Belle would make you tea, the dark one would return and take you into multiple different rooms.

Something Belle noticed was that her captor was very gentle with you. When you would prick your finger on the spinning wheel, a small look of concern would flash across the scaled man's face before he waved his hand and suddenly your wound was gone. He would let you take any book you’d like, as well as touch any treasure of his with no complaints from the owner. As if you could do anything, and he would never darken.

You had leaned across him as he was at his wheel, he was blocking the way to a compartment you needed to get to. You tripped a bit when you pointed your toes to get higher ground and nearly toppled on top of him. You would've if Rumplestiltskin didn’t immediately stop spinning the straw and take hold of your waist. You didn’t even look at him as you just continued trying to grab the crystal like item from the shelf, the man holding you for your balance. You didn’t notice how his eyes would look over your face, his fingers would flex around your waist slightly, how gentle his expression was to you.

Once you had grabbed the crystal item, you moved down, Rumplestiltskin guiding you back down. You thanked him and walked to the table, Belle watching the entire thing as she wiped down a few possessions of her captors.

You had sat at the table, placing a few scrolls on the table and the crystal item next to them. Belle had poured you some tea and placed a cup of it in front of you. The other man didn’t sit at all near the two of you. His eyes followed you from the spinner and he cleared his throat, standing and brushing himself off.

“I’ll be back.” Was all he said before he disappeared with the wave of his hands.

Belle had stood up at this point to continue cleaning in a different area so you could focus but you stopped her, shaking your head. “Please, drink tea with me?” You asked her kindly and she accepted the offer, sitting next to you and pouring herself tea as well. You looked at her a bit before putting your cup down, noticing it was slightly chipped. “You can ask whatever questions you wish.” You said nonchalantly, pulling a few scrolls out, some were maps, some declarations, amongst other things.

You couldn’t pretend like you didn’t see how her eyes lit up at the offer, chuckling to yourself lightly. Belle had taken the chance to ask the millions of questions about you, about Rumplestiltskin, about the castle, about your history, about his history, she asked you everything.

Belle leaned forward, hands around the cup as a safety, smiling gently, “How do you know Rumplestiltskin?” She asked you immediately, curious as to how someone seemingly so kind could be with someone who acted so cruel. You took a sip of your tea, putting it back down on the table, “I know him because we lived in the same village.” You answered her simply.

“He lived in a village?” She spoke, clearly shocked at the new piece of information. “No one was scared of him?” Belle asked you, almost scooching her chair a little closer to you.

“When I met him, he was a man.” You informed her, her lips parting slightly. “It was in an ogre war-” You continued until Belle visibly flinched at the words. Your eyes shifted to her quickly from your cup, “Are you okay?” You asked her, cup now down,hand reaching to hers for comfort. The princess smiled gently at you and nodded with a hesitant breath. “Yes, it’s just…my kingdom..” She began and you nodded, encouraging her to continue.

She didn’t though. She exhaled, the breath sounded shaky and she appreciated your hand offered to her, taking it. “It’s alright, you should continue.” She expressed, her facial expression didn’t convince you completely but you continued for her sake specifically. You looked her in her eyes, nothing but warmth within them, “It was long ago.” You told her, almost as if you were telling a story to a child. “One of the first ogre wars.” Your voice was a little low for suspense, Belle enjoyed it, it was like when her father used to read stories to her. She noticed your words and blinked a bit at you, now leaning forward to you due to her interest, “That was… that was hundreds of years ago.” She responded to your comment and you simply nodded.

“You’ve lived that long?” She asked, “Are you a mortal?” She questioned, brows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t look like Rumplestiltskin with the scales and darkness, but you didn’t look like a fairy, you had no wings. You certainly didn’t look like a seer, those with eyes on their palms, their faces sewed up, thought you could have the powers, she was unsure.

You licked your lips with a huff of a laugh, “A fairy a long time ago told me that I would be needed for something, but I would need to live to that point,” You spoke, nodding, your nose scrunched, “so she granted me immortality.” You finished your comment and Belle nodded slowly. “Are you still…?” Belle began, unsure of how to word her sentence, but you understood. “I am still a man, I just can’t die.” You expressed to her, moving a few papers, your hand still in the comfort of hers.

Belle had many questions about that, but she decided to stick to the questions about the dark one. “Okay…so, he used to be a man?” “Yes, before he became the dark one, he was a man.”

“How did he become the dark one?”

You paused, thinking for a moment, squeezing your hand gently, “It’s not my story to tell of how.” You spoke simply, and before she could speak once more you continued. “The dark one is magical,” You stated the obvious to which the girl in front of you nodded, “and is drowned in darkness until it takes over completely.” You explained to her, pausing once more. You tilted your head, trying to find a way to explain this to her without expressing more information than needed. “But, since it takes over a human host, he’s not complete darkness,” You said, “no matter how much people say otherwise.” You muttered the last part, a flash of annoyance in your expression.

Belle was silent for a moment, thinking. She pulled her hand back, you didn’t mind and simply clasped yours hands in front of you on the table. “So he’s cursed?” Belled asked you after a while of silence. You tilted your head in each direction with an expression that showed you weren’t exactly sure of a correct answer to that, “I guess you could think of it like that.”

She went silent once more, hands in her lap, “True love's kiss can break any curse” She stated to you, eyes flickering into yours before looking back to the cups.

“You truly believe that?”

“Of course!” Belle spoke quickly, “But, I suppose you are not his true love.” She mumbled, playing with her fingers. The comment caused your head to snap to her, slight shock, but mainly confusion in your face. You shook your head lightly with a slightly uncomfortable smile, “How ever would you know that?” You asked her, hands clutching each other tighter. Belle noticed your slight tone, her eyes widening at she stumbled over her words for her explanation, “He is not his original self, so the must mea-“

“Me and Rumplestiltskin have never kissed.”

Your words caused her mouth to open, she was staring at you agape. “You two..have never kissed?” She asked, truly confused which puzzled you even further. She puffed air into her cheeks, “I assumed the two of you were romantically involved since he’s far more gentle with you than anyone else.” She continued to explain, wondering if she saw it differently.

Now it was your turn to stare, agape. You couldn’t ask her why and how she came to that conclusion until Rumplestiltski himself had returned. His vest was covered in blood so he took it off, leaving him in only his long sleeved under shirt. He tossed it to Belle who was utterly disgusted by the blood but used to the action, “Clean this for me, someone didn’t want to be compliant.” He spoke, teeth gritted as he turned on his heel to a different doorway.

He gestured to you to follow, so you stood quickly, sending an apologetic gaze to Belle. The princess, the prisoner of the dark one, stood and walked to a different doorway to where she washed and hung Rumplestiltskin's clothes to dry.

You had followed Rumple, something you call him, into a tower where he worked with potion magic. He had stood in front of a desk, mixing a few bottles of magic together to create something new, you always enjoyed watching him in his element. You looked along the the rows of ingredient bottles or fleshed out potions, looking through the labels and humming as you examined them a bit. Silence was between you two which wasn’t unusual, but you decided to break it. “You want to know something so funny?” You asked him, your backs to each other as you were on the other side of the room. Rumple gave you a hum of acknowledgement, not turning to you, “I highly doubt it will be funny, but continue.” He told you, waving his hand slightly before going back to the potions. “Belle told me that true loves kiss breaks all curses.”

Your statement caused the man behind you to stand up straight, looking directly to the wall. He cocked his head to the side, though you didn’t see it, “Maybe I shouldn’t let her read those books.” He said aloud, looking back down to his potion. You chuckled, rolling your eyes a bit, “I mean, it is true, isn’t it? From everything I've seen at least.” You spoke, messing with a bottle of unicorn hair. Rumple focused on his work but muttered a few words, “She's not wrong, but why would she discuss such a thing with you?” He asked, confused on what brought up the subject matter.

You didn’t tell him that you let her ask questions but you did express why she would bring up the product of the question, “Well, she believes you’re cursed.” You spoke almost too plainly, your mouth getting a little dry as you remembered the cut off conversation from earlier.

Your words had been so unexpected that he had put his potion bottles down a bit harshly, the bottles clinking each other. You turned to him with surprise and he turned, meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry?” He asked, mouth now in a thin line, arms crossed. You didn’t expect such a reaction but you shrugged anyways, “She thinks being the dark one is a curse and it can be lifted with true loves kiss.” You explained and he chuckled slightly in disbelief.

He began to shake his head with closed his eyes, “Don’t tell me she believes not only the ridiculous idea that true loves kiss will lift my name off that damn dagger,” He began, holding his hand out for you due to the way this rattled him ,”but that she thinks she could kiss me and all is well.” He finished, tilting his head at you when he looked up, his shock now wiped into amusement. You crinkled your face into a scrunch, “Not exactly.” You chuckled out, licking your lips subconsciously, looking down.

Rumple waited for you to continue and you kicked the ground, crossing your arms yourself, “She thinks I could be your true love.” You laugh, looking up at him after speaking such a ridiculous idea. You were met with pure silence, silence that was tense and the eye contact with the man in front of you never ceased. “What?” He asked you, his voice had never been so soft, so hesitant.

It caught you off guard so you tilted your head, smiling a bit, “She assumed I wasn’t your true love since you weren’t human, and I had to tell her we’ve never kissed.” You reiterated the moments from a little earlier, and were met with even more silence. “Why are you so quiet?” You asked, pushing yourself off the bookshelf to reach the middle of the room, now half the distance from where you were away from Rumple.

He looked to the ground, a concentrated look on his face before he looked back up, “She believes you could be my true love?” He asked you suddenly and you nodded, “She believed we had a romantic connection.” You told him honestly. You were unsure why the topic was one he was stuck on, he never really cared for such a thing when the topic had been brought up before. He sighed, “And she thinks true loves kiss is going to break whatever this is?” He asked, gesturing his hands down his body and you simply nodded. Your confirmation had brought Rumplestiltskin to shake his head, “Ridiculous.” he spoke, turning back to his project.

Another moment of silence filled between the two of you, once again, you broke it. “Have you ever tried?” You asked, gulping harshly, still standing in the middle of the room, tapping your foot. Rumple was looking at the mixture he created, waving his hand for the potion to glow, “Tried what?” He asked in response, not looking at you. You took a deep breath, now simply hugging yourself. “Looking for a way to not be the dark one without…dying for it?”

Pure silence filled the room, again. You didn’t understand why so much silence was coming between you two.

“Sometimes I think about it.” He answered honestly, voice in a mumble.

“Has it ever gone beyond thinking?” More silence was in response so you tried to stutter out a different response, trying to speak of how he doesn’t have to say, or to move onto a topic.

“No, it hasn’t.”

You walked a little closer, now standing next to him but he wouldn’t look at you, like he was avoiding it. “Do you think it ever will? If you do actually find a way?” You asked him, leaning on the table a bit. He didn’t answer the question, he just put his hands on the table, looking down at the bottles, “…Can I ask you something?” He asked you, taking a few deep breaths.

“Sure.”

“What if true loves kiss could break it somehow?”

You weren’t sure if he meant with you or in general, but you answered honestly regardless, tapping your fingers on the wooden table. “Well, then…” You began, adjusting yourself, “I say you could find Baelfire, and after you do you could kiss your true love and then be happy.” You spoke, shrugging a bit, unsure of if he was actually concerned about it.

“What if you’re my soulmate?” He asked you, head turning to look at you, you turned yours to look at him. “Do you truly believe I could be?” You asked in a slight whisper.

He looked at you, the man in front of him, he saw a flicker of something in your eyes. He couldn’t pin point what it was, you couldn’t even understand what it was. He sighed, rubbing the bottom of his face with his hand, “Even if it somehow was true,” He spoke, now fully turned to you, “being the dark one is a different magic. it’s not a curse.” He told you, seemingly trying to convince himself more than you.

You frowned deeply at him, if you stepped closer, the two of you would be nose to nose. “I do hate when you refer to yourself as the dark one.” You mumbled to him, keeping eye contact with him and he shook his head, a matching frown on his face. The mood was slightly solemn through this conversation, like there was hope for something that would never happen. “Why?” He asked you, “It’s true.”

You inhaled deeply, your chest aching a bit, “You’re just Rumple.” You told him simply, eyes soft. You noticed his harder expression softened as well, his frown more sad than frustrated. “The same man who brought me those skins when I was sick.” You reminded him, eyes glistening slightly. Rumple hadn’t said anything, just looking into your eyes before he realized you finished your sentence. He cleared his throat, standing now, “Children had stronger immune systems than you.” He spoke, biting the inside of his cheek, turning to a journal to write down the products of his potion.

“And yet you still took care of me.” You smiled at his actions, still leaning on the table.

He waved you off, not turning to look at you, “I do not appreciate your sentiment at the moment, go read a book or look over your maps or something.”

You laughed a little louder than you expected and dramatically bowed, “Of course your majesty.” You told him, shaking your head and walking to the door the two of you came in from.

Before you could go he called your name, causing you to turn to him. His back was still to you but your footsteps stopped so he spoke. “Why did Belle believe we were romantically involved?” He asked you, the question was strange to you but you answered anyway.

“She said something about how you look at me far more gently than anyone else.” You expressed to him honestly, not thinking much of it.

“Do you believe her?”

“I am not sure. We have been friends for a long time, I’m sure it’s a little more gentle.”

He was quiet for a moment, before turning to you, expression unreadable. “If we were true loves, and if I was back to being a man-”

“Rumple, I don’t mind that you're..” You began walking forward to him but he interrupted you. “A monster?” He asked and your eyes lidded and your pursed your lips, “The dark one.” You finished your phrase, the words making him go silent. You were now face to face with him, “I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re not all darkness.” You explained, his eyes looking into yours, “There’s something inside you, there’s light, there’s the Rumple I knew and still know.” You expressed to him, fingers tingling to grab hold of his but you decided against it.

His breath hitched when he noticed your fingers twitch a bit to him, “That light is because of-”

“Baelfire.” You had known the answer, you knew of his son. You knew his son and how much joy he brought to his father.

Rumple nodded but continued anyways, “And you.” You were a little shocked, your face showing that. He grabbed your hands, his rougher than yours, “You’re my hope for finding him.”

A smile had broken out on your face a bit, “I’ve never seen you get sentimental.” You teased a bit, but he didn’t smile. He held your hands, looking down at them. “I think I can only be with you.” His words were heavy and they caused your heart to beat quickly and loudly. “I don’t want to be soft, but you melt me.” He explained, eyes looking back into yours, he seemed so gentle in this moment with you, like the old Rumple. “And there’s so many things I want to say and do But I don't want to risk…”

“True loves kiss?”

He hesitated before closing his eyes, sighing, and nodding. “Yes…there’s just too much on the line.”

You understood, if you were his true love and you kissed him, it’s possible he wouldn’t be the dark one anymore. He wouldn’t have the power and strength to get Bae back, and you didn’t want to be the reason he never saw his son again. You stepped a little closer, kissing his cheek gently, the action was quick, faster than he could process. When he finally did, he touched his cheek and looked at you with big eyes.

You were smiling softly, hands still in his, “How about that for now?” You asked him and for the first time that day, he replicated your smile. “Perfect.” He told you, gazing into your eyes with a fire he’s never had before. Well, the fire you’ve never noticed before now.

[lyrenminth]

Hello 👋🏻 There's was also a thought about Joe and Y/n: Y/n are dating, but secretly, with rumours having been going around for a long time. Y/n has been modelling for a long time and this is Joe's first time out. And at the end of the show, thinking that nobody sees you, Joe compliments you, but you were caught and had time to take a photo so that you didn't notice it and these photos flew to the net) In the end, Joe posts a picture with you from the trip)

This is a great idea! I hope i made it justice anon

That Paris trip

Runways were a nightmare in events like this were everybody was watching. It wasn't your first rodeo, but you still felt nervous most of the times. Especially now because it was the first time your boyfriend was modeling too.

You never thought you could say that, but Joe was in France and modeling in the same event as you. It was a pleasant surprise, he told you about it in advance, and you could tell the whole thing made him nervous. So you give him a few tips, show him how to walk and he learned pretty fast. You always thought Joe was model material, but he didn't want the attention. His runway was before games, the way to the locker room and that's it.

During all the trip he was in contact with you. He called you before sleep to tell you about his days and any doubt he had about the fashion industry. One day you had breaksfast together so he could ask you more questions and talk about anything, you went for a walk after and you both took pictures of each other.

"I'm glad you have been in this for a long time" he said, sounding tired "It seems pretty intense at times"

You were modeling since a young age, so he trust you more than anyone there. "Yeah, the thing it's you need to have fun. You're going to see how chaotic everything is, but you are lucky because there's not a change in wardrobe so is going to be less chaotic but still chaotic, you know?"

"Chaotic" he repeated.

"Yes, tons of people yelling directions, make up artists losing their cool, designer hurrying up everyone" you recalled, half joking.

"After the show I am going to see you?" he asked hopeful. You had been for one week in France and you didn't have a chance to see him. It was insane if you think about it. The truth was you tried to keep it low for several reasons, the main one was the privacy that comes with it. It was convenient and easy for both. There were rumors flying around but your identity has not been revealed yet.

"For sure. What hotel are you staying at?" he told you the name of the hotel. "Yes, yours is closer somehow"

"I really want to see you, baby" he pleaded. "Me too, Joe" you sighed "I am so proud you are doing this" you said, your voice sounded so emotional.

"I am nervous as fuck but I will be fine" he confessed with a low laugh.

The day of the event.

Brushes, make up, glitter and lots of hair spray. You were using a black transparent dress by Givenchy, and a natural make up that emphasized your cheekbones. Your hair was slick and shiny from all the air spray, your black lips made the look a little bit goth, completely the opposite of your usual style, but that was modeling, a person became a white canvas for the designer.

The show was fine, you modeled around the plaza, enjoying the moment as you usually do. You tried not to look for Joe, but you hoped he would enjoy the moment and himself for a bit.

After the event, you packed your things, and Joe sent your his location. It was easy to find him. You were not all dress up, but he was and it was breathtaking. The black suit fit him perfectly, and the back was a great idea. Justin was with him, but as soon as he saw you he smiled and left. "Bonjour" you said in your poor french accent. "I always knew you were model material, I was right all along" you kissed his cheek and he put and arm around you, bringing you closer. "How it was?" you asked, curious.

"It was good" his answer made you snort.

"Only good?"

"A little bit fast for my liking" he added. He smelled incredibly good. You were aware there was a few people around you, but you did not move his hand from your waist. "I am starving, we should go and eat something" you suggested.

"I am having dinner with Kyle and the boys" he brought your closer, his big hands on your back. "You can come" you would love it, but you felt it was not the moment for it. "Go to my hotel after the dinner, don't you?" you requested. "Room 230"

"Yes, ma'am"

You leave after that, wishing to spend more time with him. And not hiding.

The next day.

Adaman bursted into your room with her cellphone in hand. "Excuse me?" you were having breakfast in your room, your cellphone was charging "Joe Burrow and you? You and Joe Burrow? Bitch since when?" she screamed, surprised and excited. "Why you didn't tell me? There a picture of you all over the internet, he look so in love" she said in a dreamy tone.

Adaman was a hopeless romantic.

Instead of swooning like her, your stomach twisted in a sick sensation. "What picture?" you weren't hungry anymore. She sat next to you a show you a picture of you and Joe, he was grabbing you by the waist, smiling at you face, his look of tenderness made the picture look extremely private. It was funny the distinction between your outfits, you were wearing sports clothes and he was wearing the suit. You were smiling too.

"Oh..." was all you could say "We have been dating for a while?" you phrase it like a question.

"BITCH WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME? he's smoking hot, all the girls are losing it" you pressed your lips together. "We want to keep it private" you stated.

"I checked your profile you have won a hundred thousand followers during the night"

Well, that would happen sooner or later. You couldn't hide forever, right? You sight heavily. "Mmm, I think I'm fine, I don't plan to post him anyways"

But Joe had a different idea. The night of that same day, he posted another dump on his instagram. You scrolled until you saw your own side profile on that picture, Joe didn't show his face, but he had an arm around your shoulder, and you were looking at the camera, smiling. The lasy picture it was you, the day you went out to eat breakfast, and you were feeding a pigeon. Thank god your face was partially hidden, and your outfit was cute. It had about four thousand comments of girls posting crying emojis.

You felt...weird. But you love it at the same time. You guess Joe was trying hard to be different as he said.

And it was working.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-two] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of sex (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 2.2k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

The first time you met Jisung was at a party on campus. It was a month into your first semester of college and one of the frats had passed out fliers in the residence halls in the hopes of getting lots of the freshman girls to attend. 

You had dragged your roommate with you, insisting that you needed to get out there and start meeting people since you were each other’s only friends thus far. 

But the joke was on you because she ditched you not even five minutes after arriving, having recognized an ex-boyfriend from her hometown. You didn’t hold it against her, you had been the one to convince her to come in the first place and you understood the whole ex thing. 

But you were a lot shyer back then, less confident. So you stumbled your way through the house until you reached the kitchen. No one had offered to make you a drink yet so you figured you might as well make one yourself. You’d need a little liquid courage if you were going to get the balls to talk to any of these people anyway. 

That’s where you ran into Jisung. He was bent over the stove cooking what looked to be a grilled cheese sandwich. He turned his head when he heard you come in and nodded at you in acknowledgement.

“Want one?” he asked.

“What is it?”

“Grilled ham and cheese.”

You nodded. “Hit me.” 

He finished simmering the one in the pan and slid it onto a paper plate before grabbing the ingredients for yours. 

“How long have you lived here?” you asked conversationally. 

“Oh, I don’t live here.”

“Are you a pledge then?”

“No.”

“You’re not… affiliated with this frat?”

“Nope.”

“Are your friends?”

“Nah.”

“So you’re just…”

“Stealing their food? Kind of.”

You shrugged. “I won’t tell.”

He cracked a smile. “Good, because I’d really regret making you a sandwich if you did.” 

You hadn’t noticed until that point but he had an accent. 

“English?” you asked.

“Yes, that’s what we’re speaking. Why, do you know another language?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“No, I’m from Korea, actually,” he explained after chuckling. “But my English tutor was British so I picked up a little bit of an accent.”

“What made you decide to come all the way over here?”

“A mix of things, really,” he sighed.

“You’re probably tired of that question, I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. I just don’t have an interesting answer or anything so conversations usually fizzle out after that.”

“I get it. It’s like when everyone in your hometown asks you what you’re going to study and what job you’re getting your degree for.”

“Pretty much,” he agreed. “Your grilled cheese is ready.”

He plated the sandwich and handed it to you, turning the stove off and depositing the pan and spatula in the sink. 

“Thank you!”

“You might want to let it cool down a bit, though.” 

“Yes, chef.” 

He gave you a look, making you freeze in place. 

“What? Should I not call you that?”

“No, it’s just- I’m a culinary major. I’m always saying that to my professors but no one’s ever said that to me before. I know you didn’t mean it mean it but it sounded weird.” 

“I was just referencing Hell’s Kitchen,” you admitted. 

“Just so you know, not all chefs are like Gordon Ramsay.” 

“Only the majority?” 

He winked at you. “Bingo.”

“So if you don’t want me to call you ‘chef’, what should I call you?” 

“I never said I didn’t want you to call me that,” he clarified. “But you can call me Jisung.”

“Jisung. Nice name.”

“Thanks. Do you have one?”

You grinned. “I do.”

He gave an exasperated little sigh. “And what is it?”

You told him, leaning forward and whispering it like it was a secret. 

“You have a nice name too.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way, your sandwich should be cool enough to eat by now.”

You leaned back against the island and took a bite of your grilled cheese. Jisung gauged your reaction, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Good?”

“Great. Best grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he warned. 

“I’m not! Listen, I can’t cook for shit so I’m very easy to impress.” 

“I’ll take your word for it. It’s better for my ego if I ignore the last part.” 

“I can make a mean Moscow Mule, though. My talents lie in mixology, not gastronomy.”

“Make me a drink, then?” he asked. 

“Gladly.” 

You set your paper plate on the counter and made your way over to the fridge. 

“Let’s see what they have in here.”

“Oh, now you’re the one stealing food?” 

“Guess that makes us partners in crime.” 

You fell silent as you looked over the contents of the refrigerator, gathering a bottle of orange juice and half-empty jar of raspberry jam. You checked the expiration dates before continuing because you didn’t trust frat guys and then set them on the island with a handle of tequila that had been left out. 

Jisung watched as you spooned the jam into an empty solo cup, visibly skeptical. You couldn’t blame him for not trusting you, you had just met him, after all. You poured the orange juice in next and mixed the two together, finally adding a shot and a half of tequila. 

“Don’t want to get you too drunk,” you explained. 

He scoffed. “You think that’ll do me in? I’m Korean, remember?”

“Fine, suit yourself.” 

You poured what you approximated to be another shot of tequila into the cup. You filled another cup with ice from a nearby cooler and poured the contents of the first cup into it. Instead of shaking them and risking making a huge mess, you rolled them between the cups until you were satisfied that everything was properly mixed. 

You presented Jisung with your creation, eyes shining. “Here you go! It’s a makeshift tequila sunrise.”

Jisung reached for it but you stopped him abruptly. “Wait! Hold on.”

You took a sip of the drink yourself, just to make sure it was actually palatable, before passing it off to him. 

“Sorry, wanted to check.”

“Not confident in your abilities all of the sudden?“ he mused. 

“I’m trying something new,” you grumbled defensively, “artists make mistakes. I’m not above admitting that and therefore want to quality check my products to make sure it’s good enough for my consumers.”

“Didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously.”

“I take everything seriously.” 

He eyed you suspiciously. “Something tells me that’s not true.” 

-

That night, and all the others you spent with Jisung flashed before your eyes like some sort of sick slideshow as you stood there with him in the hallway. The fractures in the glass were beyond repair now, spindling inward threatening to shatter.

You supposed it was what you deserved, watching your relationship with your best friend crumble right in front of you. 

“Why do you ask?” you said quietly, still testing the waters.

“You think I haven’t noticed you sneaking off every night?” Jisung demanded.

“Uh-”

“At first, I thought you just needed some space. And I understood because you’ve been stuck with us for over a month now, but then it happened every night and you’d be gone for so long,” he sighed. “So finally, I followed you-”

“You what?”

“I know, I’m such a bad friend for invading your privacy.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and you could already feel the tears welling up. 

You tried to hold them back because you didn’t deserve to cry. You’d put yourself in this situation, and you knew it was wrong, but you still did it anyway. You clutched your towel closer to your body, trying to shrink into yourself. 

“I heard what I needed to,” he continued. “So how long have you been fucking my brother?”

“Jisung, I-”

“I asked you a question.”

“Long enough,” you muttered. “He found out we weren’t actually dating. I didn’t tell him-”

“That makes it better?” 

“No, I just thought you should know.”

“What does it matter anyway,” he spat. “We had an agreement. You had one task and you couldn’t even do it. I should have never invited you on this goddamn trip.”

You couldn’t help but agree. “I’m sorry.” 

Jisung laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “I don’t believe you. If you actually felt any guilt over this you never would have done it. Or you would’ve at least stopped before it got to this point.”

“No, I am sorry,” you tried. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” he asked, eyes widening suddenly. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” 

For a fraction of a second, you were thrown back in time. The best friend that didn’t hate you was suddenly standing in front of you, eyes full of concern. It passed just as quickly as it had come when you denied it. 

“No, it’s just… I f- I’m in love with him.” You couldn’t even look Jisung in the eye when you said it, too afraid of his reaction. 

It was dead silent all throughout the house after your confession. You stared at the floor where a puddle had appeared at your feet from your dripping hair. 

He chuckled again in disbelief, breaking the silence. 

“You’re not in love with him,” he said matter-of-factly. “You don’t even know what love feels like. You’ve only known him for a fucking month, how could you possibly love him?” You were crying now, furiously wiping away the tears that fell onto your cheeks. “You’re just lonely, y/n, and desperate, and grasping at straws for anything that feels like ‘love’.”

“That’s not true,” you insisted. You weren’t sure why you were trying to defend yourself. He was probably right. 

“It is true! I’ve known you for how many years now? You’ve never had a real relationship with anybody. How could you possibly know what love feels like?”

You shook your head adamantly, convincing yourself he didn’t mean what he was saying. “You’re lashing out.” 

“Is it lashing out if it’s true?” he quipped. 

You swallowed hard, choking a bit. 

“I can’t fucking believe this. My best friend and my brother. I went away to school to be on my own and have my own life, and somehow Minho manages to take that too.” He was mostly talking to himself now. “What if someone else had caught you two? How fucked up would that have looked? I put no flirting with my brothers on the list of rules for a reason, obviously. Although I guess it didn’t matter in the end anyway, did it? You didn’t take them or this seriously.”

“Ji, that’s not true and you know that. I’m the one who wrote out those flashcards. I memorized all that stuff about your family. I flew halfway around the world for you— I did take it seriously.”

“Until Minho offered his dick to you on a silver platter?”

“Oh my god!”

“Am I wrong?” 

You sighed. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“Explain it to me then. When did this all start anyway?”

“Minho kissed me for the first time in, um, Italy.” 

“Oh my god, I’m the biggest fucking idiot in the world,” he groaned. 

“But it wasn’t like that then… he still thought we were together then.” 

Jisung threw his hands up. “That makes it worse!”

“I know but he was drunk.”

“That’s not an excuse. You of all people should know that.” 

You let the dig slide since he was in an emotional state and you were in no position to argue anyway. 

“I know.”

“So you guys have been sneaking around behind my back for like a fucking month now?” 

“We didn’t sleep together until Shanghai, when he found out we weren’t together. But I feel like I should tell you I kissed him in Japan. Just so that you know everything.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Jisung deadpanned. “Thank you for being so honest.” He spat the last word at you, which again, was deserved, but hurt nonetheless. You sniffled. “I can’t believe you’re the one crying right now.” 

You couldn’t believe that Jisung wasn’t crying but then again he wasn’t the type to cry when he was angry. He only cried when he was sad, and that probably hadn’t hit him yet. 

You were starting to get cold wearing nothing but a towel but tried not to let it show. Of course, Jisung noticed instantly. He sighed as you shivered and pursed his lips. Even when he was furious with you, even when your relationship was irreparably damaged, he cared about you. It wasn’t something he could just turn off, though maybe with time, he’d learn to. 

“Anyway, go to bed. I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

“O-okay,” you mumbled. 

Jisung brushed past you abruptly, muttering to himself loud enough for you to hear.

“God, I wish I’d never fucking met you that night.” 

You bit down on your lip as hard as possible to choke down a sob. All you could do was stand there motionlessly and stare at the floor. You waited for him to walk away into the living room but the footsteps stopped suddenly. 

“Oh, and a word of advice-”

“Hm?” You turned around to face him, trying your best to pull yourself together. 

“You should try getting over your feelings for Minho as fast as possible. He doesn’t love you back. He’s just using you, babe. I know he’s pretty smooth but that’s why he’s so good at his job. Easier said than done, I know, but you’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

hard one to write (and i imagine to read) but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

iou tags: @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsofafangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvslines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtooyoungforthisshitbaby @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcofee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed @kangyounghyunhands @lexxxxs-things @baejinswrld @gaysontheprince @emogril @ngengngeng @tenshimara @stopeatread @seungminniesgf @lydatataylorsversion @cheolbs @bxnnyhwa @zheav @pinkskiesdream @soohyukazz @spearb-gf @lonely00sbrat @lino1ino @simple1605 @ninashellhole @yoorimin @catiuskaa @gemini-demon @kronikk

add yourself to the taglist here!

[saintmagx]

Chamber of Horrors 😈

Grayson Waller x reader

an: just came across Grayson Waller on Chamber of Horrors with Scarlett and Shotzi and it gave me some inspo 👻 IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED IT, YOU SHOULD! He is literally polite, respectful, funny and hella scared. This story doesn’t follow the video exactly because my memory is bad and I started writing this so long ago I forgot so much stuff, plus trying to rewrite a video is kinda hard 🫣

‼️ Warning: swearing, bad story telling, cringe writing, not proof read, just rambles no actual good storyline‼️

“Our final guest of the night is the current WWE Woman’s Champion y/n!” Kayla says excitedly.

Walking out into the cozy studio my nerves settle slightly, I’ve never been on the bump before, nor had any kind of chat show interview before, so I’m a little overwhelmed. I make my way over to the other guests Scarlett and Shotzi and sit down next to them.

“So welcome to your first ever bump appearance, how has it taken us this long to get you here?” Kayla asks.

“Honestl-”

Cut off before I could even answer, a strong accent fills the studio, Grayson who was also a guest - who was joining us via video chat - had to pipe up - it’s what he does best.

“Let me answer that.”

“You see, yn wouldn’t come on the show unless yours truly was also a guest. I mean can you blame her, who wouldn’t want to be on the same show as the Aussie icon.”

“Ah yes Grayson of course, every time they asked me to come on the show I would say unless you have thee Grayson Waller on your show, I ain’t interested.”

He smiles and slightly chuckles, unable to retaliate.

We continue to hype up the next PLE. Shotzi and Scarlett then go onto speak about the release of more episodes of Chamber of Horrors.

“Yn we would love to have you as a guest on the next season! It would be so fun.” Scarlett suggests.

“Absolutely not.” I say - little too quickly.

“I might come across as someone who is tough but deep down I’m scared of most things. And being in an area that is high on the paranormal activity is a definite no for me.”

“We would be there, nothing would happen to you. It’s completely safe.” Shotzi tries her best to convince me to appear in the show, but her words fill me with little confidence.

“I’ll go on if you do yn.” Grayson declares.

“What?”

“If you do the show, I’ll do it with you. Moral support and all that. Plus if you get too scared you can always hold my hand.” His signature smirk creeping onto his face.

Feeling like my back was against the wall I agree to appear and anyway they might not ask me to be on it for a long time and we might not even go to somewhere that is extremely haunted. I was unfortunately wrong on both fronts.

The call to appear on an episode of Chamber of Horrors came all too quickly. It was decided that we would go and see Bloody Mary in New Orleans, which involved a seance and an independent ghost hunt around the haunted house.

Sitting around the table in a circle, Bloody Mary describes how the evening will go and says a few incantations to start of the seance.

“First we will go around the table and introduce ourselves to the spirits. Squeezing from left to right on our hands.” She tells the table.

She introduces herself then squeezes my left hand. My turn I guess

“My name is yn.” I then squeeze Grayson hand for him to start

“My name is Grayson Waller, Maddison square garden main eventer.”

“I’m Shotzi”

“I’m Scarlett”

We continue to hold hands until Bloody Mary continues. She introduces us to a doll named Henry. Scarlett picks him up and places him onto a clearly uncomfortable Graysons lap.

“He likes the ladies, he’s a bit of a flirt.” Bloody Mary explains to us.

“Aw yes lad! We could be brothers.” Grayson says, “however I have to move you closer to Shotzi and Scarlett, can’t have you making moves on people you shouldn’t be.”

I look at Grayson confused, why would he say that?

“So is it true someone at this table hasn’t seen a horror film.” Bloody Mary questions. Looking around the table I find it hard to believe. Shotzi and Scarlett are literally horror queens and I’ve dabbled in horror movies myself, like who hasn’t. That only leaves Grayson…

“You haven’t seen a single horror movie? Like ever?” I quiz Grayson.

“Nope, I just like laughing. Why would I watch something that would make me scared?”

Stunned.

“The fact you haven’t seen the all time classics, I’m shocked. We have to change that.”

With a playful glint in his eyes he reply’s “are you asking me on a date? I mean I suppose if you were there to hold my hand I wouldn’t mind watching a scary film.”

And that right there is the famous Grayson Waller charm. I roll my eyes and laugh off his flirtation.

“I’ll ask theory to show you some of the classics. It’s gonna change your life.”

“I’d rather you show me them. I think I’d appreciate them more with you.”

He smiles slightly and shifts his attention back to Bloody Mary. Not noticing how his response had affected me.

The part I had been least looking forward to, the ghost hunt. We had been given free rein around the house to look and interact with any spirits we may encounter.

There had been a few words here and there but nothing that was concrete evidence that the spirts were among us. It could all be explained or passed off as a coincidence until I heard Scarlett and Grayson in the bathroom.

“Shotzi, yn come here quick.”

We entered the bathroom and were met with both Scarlett and Graysom standing in the bathtub. We join them without question and wait.

“Can you tell us your name” Scarlett asks the spirits

“Zach”

“Zach is there anyone else here with you?” She continues

“No”

“Killed her.”

“Sorry”

Scared, I find myself gravitating towards Grayson who instinctively grabs my hand. I’m not sure if he sensed my fear or if he too was scared however in that moment we were a comfort for each other.

“Killed who?” Shotzi asks this time. However there is no reply.

“Hey Zach can you say hello to Grayson?” She continues

In a mimicking tone

“Hi Grayson”

The mood is slightly lifted and I can’t help but chuckle this spirit has went from confessing to horrific crimes to making fun of Grayson and I’m here for it.

Unamused Grayson replies “oh, you think you’re funny do you?” The spirit did indeed think it was funny.

We move to a different room due to the activity in the bathroom dying down. The room we enter is a playroom, legend says that the small cupboard is where a small child still plays. We decide to have a game of rock paper scissors to see who will go in the cupboard. Shotzi is our first, then Scarlett.

“Can’t you just go in the cupboard? I think I would die of fear if I had to go in.” I say pleading with Grayson.

“Sorry love, fairs fair. Ready?” He replies.

Rock, paper, scissors shoot. I went with paper and Grayson well he went with rock. With a smug look I go stand next to Scarlett and Shotzi awaiting for Grayson to climb into the small cupboard.

“I’m literally in skinny jeans, I can’t do this.” He complains while backing into the small enclosed space. Not even a minute later he is screaming and scrambling to get out of the cupboard.

“Something touched me. Something touched my leg.”

“What?” We all ask.

“When I was in there I felt something grab and pull my leg.” He reiterates.

Finding his way next to me, he slides his hand into mine, again to find comfort. I squeeze his hand as a reassurance that everything was going to be okay. Looking down at me I can see the appreciation in his eyes.

Scarlett sits on the floor and asks the spirits some final questions - much to our dislike.

“Do you like Grayson?”

“No”

Grayson on hearing this throws a little tantrum

“I’m here, I’m trying to learn, I’m being respectful” before he can continue the spirt cuts him off

“Nerd”

The mood once again has been lifted at the expense of Grayson.

Shotzi continues to question the spirit.

“What about yn? Do you like her?”

“Yes”

“Pretty”

“You’re damn right she’s pretty. But ima have you ask you to back off mr ghost, she’s off limits.” Grayson replies

Shotzi and Scarlett share a knowing glance while i remain calm and composed- on the outside that is. On the inside im screaming.

That has got to be the most frightening experience of my life. The cameras have stopped rolling and we are standing in front of the Bloody Mary’s ready to part ways.

“Okay, I’ll admit it was kinda fun, however under no circumstances will I ever come back on your show.” I tell them.

They both laugh and tell me I’m a baby.

“I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight.”

Grayson jumps in “oh I don’t mind helping you out there. I can think of a few ways to help you sleep.”

Scarlett and Shotzi dismiss themselves sensing we need some time alone.

“What’s with the heavy flirting? You’ve been at it all night?” I question.

“Well what normally happens when a guy flirts with a girl?.”

“You’re not just any guy though, you’re Grayson Waller. Serial romancer.”

Slight offended he replies “I thought my actions would have been louder than my words? I like you yn, I like you a whole fucking lot. My mind, body and soul is captivated only by you.”

Silenced by his confession in struggle to think of the right words to say. I want to tell him I feel the same. I want to tell him how my every fibre and being yearns for him. Slowly I see the hope in his eyes fade as I’m taking too long to reply.

“Listen if you don’t feel the same way just say it I need to”

Before he could finish his sentence my lips meet his. He returns my kiss with a need and passion I’d only ever read in books. This is what he needed, this is what we both needed. Each other. Pulling away our foreheads rest on each other while catching our breath.

“How about a nightmare on elm street? A classic franchise to break that horror movie virginity of yours.”

He chuckles “as long as you’ll be there, I’ll watch anything.”

I honestly dunno what this turned into but here we are…….if you would like tagged in any of my stories let me know and I’ll add you to the list.

Tagged:

@jeysbae

@blueflowermentality

@co-sharkie

[violetmuses]

Strangers - A. Aretas 🖤

Title: Strangers - A. Aretas 🖤

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe 

Character: Armando Aretas 

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader 

Main Storyline: One mission lands chaos between you and Armando.  

Author's Note: Here's another request! Enjoy. 💜 @that-90s-girllll @afantoanything

======

2024

“No way!” You slam down the file near Mike Lowrey and just shake your head. 

“Please? I can't even party anymore.” Mike offered his second attempt. 

“It's not my fault. Have Kelly and Dorn make the arrests. I won't dress up.” Vaguely noting details of this plan, you gestured to Armando Aretas. 

“Why not?” Offering slightly accented English, Armando speaks for a moment. 

“Stop it.” You stepped away from this room and tried calming down. 

_____

“Listen to me: if she punches you in the face, I'm not stopping anything. Watch your mouth, arrest these dudes, and go home.” Warning Armando, Mike's voice transmitted through veiled earpieces. 

You chose this tight dress and moved like you're just out for a night at the club.

“Why the dress?” Armando questioned through whispers. 

“It's my job and I know better now. Might as well look good.” You pulled together for the assignment. 

“Don't I look good?” Aretas wore black and sported gold jewelry. 

“You're all right.” You smile through appearances when Armando loops his sleeved arm around your shoulder. 

“They're upstairs. Let's go.” Aretas whispered the goons’ location while “pretending” to flirt with you.  

In reality, you were stubborn and gorgeous all at once, always focused on work, but never giving him the time of day.

Keep dreaming. Armando thought. 

______

Red and blue flickered past the skyline to ground these well-known drug dealers. Aretas had slyly revealed his own badge with your credentials. 

“No casualties and you both acted with caution until the arrests happened. Good job.” One of the higher-ups nodded toward you and Armando. 

“Thank you.” Both of you grin at an official before this person leaves, but when cars pull up to drive everyone home, Armando stands by himself. 

“Are you all right?” No longer grouchy, you checked on him. 

“Yeah.” You know that he lied and offered the passenger seat of your own car.  

“C'mon.” You gestured, still driving in heels once you became ready to leave. “Let's go back to my place.” 

______

Your home is small but inviting while Armando glanced everywhere. 

“Do you need anything before I take a quick shower?” You offered the question and Aretas finally noticed. 

“No, thank you.” Armando cleared his throat while staying cordial. 

This man still watched you leave. 

______

When you step out from the bathroom, Armando nearly freezes. 

You're so pretty. His thoughts swooned without malice or weird behavior. 

Wearing no makeup this time, you settled with pajamas for the night. 

“Hey.” Aretas greeted you. 

“I'll set up the guest room for you.” You pointed down this hall again and tried to ignore his toned arms once Armando removed the suit jacket. 

Thanks.” Aretas repeated himself.

_______

He's restless despite taking the comfortable guest room. 

All over this quaint space, different photographs lined every wall. You've even bonded with Mike and Marcus after joining the police department. 

Armando couldn't relate to you, just called by Lowrey for skills and somehow avoiding prison. 

Damn. 

Knowing better than to disturb you, Aretas tries sleeping. There's no other choice. 

_____

You offered breakfast the next day, but Armando turned quiet during this meal. 

“Didn't sleep well last night.” He expressed the truth. 

“Sorry. Let's go. I'll get some better coffee.” You joked for a second and Armando hardly smiled, but you accepted the look anyhow. 

“Cool.” Armando nodded, helping you clean up the kitchen. 

Peace reigned at last. 

[thetriumphantpanda]

handcuffs and alibis

I cannot be tamed so here, have part five of dbf!Joel. Y'all can thank @morning-star-joy for this one, she kinda came up with the idea of tying Joel to the headboard. ENJOY y'all, I wrote this under the influence of two glasses of wine and a double tequila soda so... you've been warned. You can read the previous 4 parts here, and if you'd like to leave a tip on my ko-fi I'd be eternally grateful, but of course, no pressure!

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary | Joel teases you at another family cookout, so you decide to take your revenge.

Word Count | 3.8k

Warnings | As always, just dbf!Joel in general. Alcohol consumption and mentions of food, public teasing, oral (M receiving), use of restraints, dirty talk, protected PiV sex, no use of Y/N.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Texas Sun Playlist

Your dad never really needs an excuse to hold a cookout, especially during these long summer months. So, when you finally get the call that you did in fact land the job you wanted, he’s straight out stocking up on enough beer to get the entire street drunk and enough food to feed the US army. 

He’s currently grilling the second lot of steaks, even though everyone sat around the table is stuffed from the burgers, skewered meats and hot dogs and no-one can really move. It’s a quieter affair than your welcome home party – sat around the table are your parents, Tommy and Joel and two of your mom’s friends from work. That doesn’t stop you from planting yourself directly across the table from Joel, making eyes at him over your bottle of beer, and running your bare foot up the part of his leg that you can reach under the table. 

He's been a picture of calm the entire time, his eyes didn’t throw a shade of warning across to you, just a look that said, ‘go on, I dare you.” Which you had been putting to the test the entire evening. 

“Can’t believe you’re actually going to be an archivist, smartass,” Tommy beams across the table when you’ve all had your fill of food, “We all knew you’d land it though.” 

You smile and clink your beer with his, “Can’t deny it’s a huge relief, thought I was going to be unemployed for way longer than this.” 

“Drinks on you next time, then?” He teases, “Joel and I know a great bar in town, maybe we can go sometime?” 

“Are the drinks cheap?” You smirk, “I’m not going to be making millions and the way you two drink I’ll be bankrupt in no time.” 

As you’re talking you can feel Joel’s foot tapping against yours under the table. It’s innocent enough but it’s just distracting enough that you struggle to engage in the rest of the conversation. You’re grateful when your mother takes the lull of silence in conversation as a sign to start clearing up. You almost jump at the opportunity to help her, which has her raising her eyebrow, but she doesn’t question you. 

Once she’s brought all the dirty plates and cutlery along with the dishes of leftovers, she grabs a chilled bottle of wine from the fridge and heads back out to her friends, leaving you alone, yet again, to clean up a party held for you. You make quick work of packaging up the leftover sides and meat, putting them in the fridge before you start rinsing plates and putting them in the dishwasher. 

“This feels awful familiar,” Joel’s voice speaks behind you, you turn and watch him peer into the dishwasher, “Good girl, nice to see I’ve taught you somethin’ useful.”

“What the hell are you doing, Joel?” You hiss. 

He looks at you with a confused look, “I was complimentin’ your stackin’ skills, am I not allowed to do that?” 

“Good girl,” You attempt to mock his accent, “Really, Joel?” 

He has a glint in his eye and smirk across his mouth, “Don’t usually complain when I’m calling you that.” 

“Usually because we’re alone, Joel.” You murmur as he takes a step towards you, resting his hand on the small of your back before he leans down as close as he can get to speak into your ear. 

“You started it,” He speaks lowly, “All that with your foot runnin’ up my leg, got me all worked up sweetheart, and now I want you.” 

You jerk your head to look out of the window, no-one is particularly looking into the window, but it would be so easy for anyone to turn their head and immediately see Joel pressed up against you, whispering into your ear. 

You nudge your elbow into his stomach behind you, “Not here,” You hiss, “Anyone could see us.” 

“Awful shy, all of a sudden, sweetheart,” He teases into your ear, but is thankfully moving back from you, “Suit yourself.” 

You finish stacking the dishwasher as he pulls out two cold beers from the fridge, using your dad’s ‘Florida’ bottle opener from a vacation you took years ago to open them both, setting one down on the side for you. He leans against the fridge once it’s closed, sipping at his beer as he watches you. You wipe your hands dry on a towel and grab the beer, taking two long drinks from the bottle. 

“C’mon, people’ll be wondering where we’ve gotten to.” 

“Certainly can’t have that.” You mumble, quietly enough that he doesn’t hear you. 

Back outside, Tommy is stood with your dad at the bottom of the garden, looking into the shed. Tommy is pointing at something and laughing and a split second later you can hear your dad’s low chuckle as well. Your mom and her friends have moved from the table to sit on the loungers that are around the pool, sipping wine and squealing at whatever neighbourhood gossip they’re talking about. 

Joel’s hand is on the small of your back again, guiding you back to the table you were sitting at to eat dinner, you sit back in your old chair, Joel this time opts to sit next to you, because of course he does. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” You tip your beer bottle towards your mom and her friends. 

“Probably the fact that Marcia at the end of the street is having an affair with her assistant at work.” He says it so nonchalantly that you almost think he’s joking, until you look up at him and find he’s deadly serious.

“Oh my god, really?” You choke on your beer, “Joel she’s like sixty, how old is he?” 

He shrugs, “How am I supposed to know,” he takes a sip of his own drink, “Heard ‘em gossiping when I came inside.” 

“Get it girl, I guess,” You snigger, “Her husband must be pushing seventy and we’ve all got needs I suppose.” 

His warm hand comes to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. It’s under the table and with everyone else preoccupied with their conversations, no-one would really notice, but there’s still a thrill settling through your bones. 

“Promise you’d let me sort your needs out at seventy, sweetheart?” 

You snort, “Joel, when I’m seventy there’s a strong likelihood, you’ll either be senile in a home or dead.” 

He throws his head back as he laughs, probably one of the most genuine expressions of happiness you’ve ever seen from him, and it warms your heart that you were the one to cause it. Outside of Tommy and Sarah, and occasionally your dad, Joel was stoic, almost to a fault, but you liked this version of him, warm and happy, with his hand on your thigh. 

Said hand is now currently inching it’s way higher, hitting the material of your dress. You drop your head and watch as his hand disappears underneath the white linen material to rest dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. You turn your head to give him a warning look but he’s not even paying attention to you. He’s looking anywhere but at your face, his own plastered with a look of complete indifference that his fingers are brushing the cotton of your underwear and causing your breath to catch in your throat. 

You can feel him tracing the seam of your pussy through the material and if he’s not careful, within the next few seconds you’re going to outwardly beg him to bend you over and fuck you on this table in front of everyone. To save yourself the pain of watching him slowly murdered by your father, you reach down and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from you. 

“Will you give it a rest?” You chide, “Don’t start something you can’t finish. 

Almost on cue, Tommy is bounding up the garden, your father a few steps behind him. Joel extricates his hand from between your legs, still looking like the picture of calm. 

“Can you give me a ride into town?” Tommy asks, “Delia wants to grab drinks.” 

You watch as Joel rolls his eyes, “Can you not take a cab?” 

“C’mon Joel, just run me into town, it won’t take too long.” 

“Who’s Delia?” You ask, winking at Tommy. 

“Tommy’s latest girlfriend,” Joel replies, standing from the chair, “He’s smitten.” 

“She ain’t my girlfriend, jackass,” Tommy glares at Joel, “We’re just spendin’ time together.” 

“Oh, so she’s your fuck buddy then?” You smirk, causing Joel to choke on his spit and Tommy to laugh. 

“Oh, c’mon old man,” Tommy is teasing, clapping him on the back, “You could use one’a them yourself, spendin’ all your time alone in that house.” 

It’s your turn to flush, the words if only you knew spring to the forefront of your mind, and it’s almost like Joel reads your thoughts. 

“Who says I ain’t got one of my own?” 

Tommy looks disgusted for a second at the thought of his older brother having his own fuck buddy, you can feel your cheeks flushing too, knowing that it’s you he’s talking about when no-one else around you has any idea, “Right, well you keep that information to yourself please.” Is all Tommy replies before him and Joel are bidding everyone goodbye. 

You sit for a moment outside, trying to calm yourself down, but all you can do is rub your thighs together and sigh that Joel did in fact start something he couldn’t finish, leaving you high, dry and horny in favour of taking his brother into the city to get his dick wet. 

“You alright, doll?” Your dad asks, taking Joel’s old chair, “Looking a little flushed,” He puts his hand on your forehead to check for a temperature, “You feelin’ alright?” 

“I’m fine dad,” You mumble in response, suddenly hyper aware of the high-pitched screeching coming from your mom and her friends, “I might go and lie down for a bit.” 

“Alright,” He leans over and presses a kiss to your cheek, “You just shout if y’need anything, alright?” 

You lie on your bed upstairs for two hours. Somewhere around the first hour you can hear your mom bidding her friends goodnight and then the hushed talk she has with your father. Once the sun has set and the sky is dark you hear them go to bed, and not ten minutes later the soft snores of your father start drifting through your wall. 

You’re too worked up to sleep. What you should do is reach into your drawer, pull out your vibrator and get yourself off, drift off to sleep and let it lie. Without thinking about the consequences though, you’re standing from your bed and opening your bedroom door as quietly as you can. You close it behind you and when there isn’t a lull in the sound of your parents snoring you know you’re in the clear. You pad down the stairs and slip on your sandals at the door, slipping out once you’ve grabbed one of your dad’s ties from the washing basket. 

You’re halfway down the street when you really think about what you’re doing. Turning up to his house unannounced with a big plan and no real idea on how to execute it properly. What if he was already in bed? Or what if he’d decided to stay in town with Tommy and have a drink? Thankfully as you get closer to his house you notice his truck is in the driveway. A few steps later you see the light in the bottom window, meaning he’s still up and about. 

You knock gently at the door, listening as you can hear shuffling behind it before he pulls it open. He looks you up and down with a smirk on his face, fingers hooked into the top of his jeans like he always stands. 

“Well, ain’t this a nice surprise?” 

“You started something you didn’t finish,” You breathe, stepping close enough to him to press your body against his own, “I want you to finish it,” You demand, “Right now.” 

“That so?” 

You step back just enough to reach your hands to his shoulders, pushing him back inside his home. You’re half-aware of him slamming the door shut behind you, but then his hands are snaking around your waist and your back is pressed against the wall as his lips finally crash to yours. It’s messy, all teeth and tongue, but you’re not complaining. You’d been dreaming of him kissing you all evening. 

“How am I meant to finish it then, sweetheart?” He asks, breathing against your lips before joining them together again. 

“Bedroom,” You gasp out the next time he pulls away from you, “Take me to bed, Joel.” 

He wastes no time in grasping at your wrist and pulling you up the stairs and into his room. It is so quintessentially Joel. Bed unmade, overflowing washing basket in the corner. Chest of drawers which wouldn’t close because each drawer was stuffed so full of clothes and other things they were overflowing. 

You turn to him, he’s leant in the doorway, cool as a cat, which infuriates you because you are so incredibly turned on. Your chest is heaving with every breath you take, skin flushed hot, “Take off your clothes.” You insist. 

“Take off my clothes?” 

“Did I stutter?” You raise an eyebrow and his face drops when he knows you mean business. 

He’s slow about it. He drags his t-shirt over his head as he walks towards his bed, discarding it to the floor as you turn on the spot to follow him with your eyes. Then he’s looking straight at you as he undoes his belt with one hand, pulling it through the belt loops to fall to the floor as well. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pulling them down excruciatingly slowly. Then he stands and waits. 

“All of it, Joel.” You motion to his boxers with the clear bulge of his cock visible through them. 

“As you wish, ma’am.” And they too are discarded, leaving him completely naked to your complete state of dress. 

“On the bed.” 

You wonder if he can tell what might be about to happen because he lies down on the bed, head propped against the pillow. You’re quick to take your place at the foot of the bed, crawling up his body to straddle his hips. You can feel his cock nudging against the cotton of your underwear as you fall into him and kiss him. He opens his mouth against yours and it’s at this moment that you pull the tie from inside your bra into one hand. His eyes are closed, and he has no idea what’s about to happen. You drop the tie on the pillow next to him, using one hand to wrap around one his wrists, pulling it to rest above his head. You put all your weight on this hand, using your other to pull his other wrist above his head also. 

He's too busy tangling his tongue with yours and bucking his hips into your clothed pussy to notice you reaching for the tie on the pillow. In fact, it’s not until you’re pulling yourself away from him and wrapping the silk of the tie around his wrists and knotting it to the headboard that he starts to question what you’re doing. 

“What- fuck baby, what’re you doing?” His voice is wavering as he tugs his wrists. 

“Making you pay.” You shrug, simply. 

“Whatever did I do to deserve this?” He asks, watching intently as you start moving down his body with trails of your tongue, stopping occasionally, to press hot kisses to his skin. 

“You already forget your teasing from earlier?” You mumble against his skin. 

“Thought you liked it.” He whimpers as your lips are peppering kisses along his pubic bone, ignoring the throbbing of his cock. 

“I did,” You admit, “Until you left me high and dry.” 

“That wasn’t my fault,” He insists, breathing laboured, “If Tommy wasn’t so insistent, I’d have stayed and fucked you in that garden.” 

You hum against his skin, trailing kisses down his thighs, dragging your fingernails after your mouth. You revel in the sounds of his deep breathing and the gasps he’s letting out. 

“I don’t think this is very fair, sweetheart.” Joel’s strained voice comes from above you, causing you to take a break from pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his thighs. 

“You weren’t complaining about teasing when you were in charge, Mr Miller.” 

You hear a groan of frustration because he knows it’s true. He knows he pushed his luck earlier and he knows this is one battle he’s not going to win. He relents his incessant pulling at the tie that’s got him trapped to the headboard, not quite sure how you’re so practiced at tying men up so they can’t move, but he files that away to ask about later. Now he just focuses on you and your lips. The lips that he so wishes would just move a little to the right and envelop his cock in one go. He’s sure the relief from your teasing would be enough to having him come down your throat in minutes. 

If you were a better woman, you’d have been able to keep this up for hours, but there’s an ache between your legs that is crying out to you to bury yourself on his cock. You can tell from the way he’s jutting his hips up to meet your lips wherever you kiss him that’s telling you he’s struggling too. You’ve proven your point, now it’s time to have fun. 

“What do you want Joel?” You ask, looking up at him from your place between his thighs. 

His eyes are begging you, “Sweetheart,” He huffs, “I need your mouth on me.” 

He’s waited long enough. You grip the base of his cock in your hand, running your tongue along the underside before your lips wrap around the tip. The moan that drops from his mouth is indecent, and it only gets better when you start bobbing your head up and down his length. 

“Untie me baby,” He begs as you feel his cock hit the back of your throat, “I wanna put my hands on you.” 

You pull your mouth off him, using your hand to jerk him off, running strands of saliva up and down his length, “I don’t think so, you got more than enough earlier.” 

He throws his head back and groans as you put your mouth back on him, taking him as far down your throat as possible, using your hand to pump the rest of his length that you couldn’t. His groans spur you on until he bucks his hips up as your mouth is running down his length, causing you to gag, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Shit… shit baby,” He curses and then mumbles that he’s sorry, “I ain’t gonna last much longer, let me fuck you.” 

Your pussy is practically begging for him to be inside of you, clenching around nothing at all with every drag of your mouth and swirl of your tongue around him, so he doesn’t have to tell you twice. You push yourself back on your knees, pulling your dress over your head and your underwear down your legs. 

“Condoms?” You asked, his head motions to the bedside table. 

You lean over him and pull one out, ripping the package open with your teeth before you’re rolling it down his length and straddling his hips, your tight cunt hovering inches above him. One last attempt at teasing him. He’s lined up just right with your entrance that when he bucks his hips, the head of his cock is nudging through your slick and into you and you’ve lost the game. 

You sink yourself down onto him, throwing your head back in pleasure as your roll your hips and grind onto him. You open your eyes and the picture below you is a sight to behold. Joel, with his hands tied to his headboard by your dad’s striped, blue work tie, mouth agape with your name tumbling from his lips. He’s got a sheen of sweat across his beautifully tanned skin, beads of it pooling at his temples and dropping down onto the pillowcase below. He is completely at your mercy, and you think that if you tried hard enough, stared at him for long enough, that just this sight alone could make you come. 

“Baby c’mon, untie me.” Joel begs once again. 

You shake your head, instead leaning back, one hand gripping his knee behind you to steady yourself, the other snaking down your body to rest on your pussy. You dip your fingers down low enough to gather slick from where Joel’s cock is splitting you open, dragging your fingers up to circle your clit. You’re so sensitive from the teasing and the wanting that you know you’re finished before you really even start. 

“God damn,” Joel moans beneath you, “So fuckin’ tight for me, that’s it, play with your pretty pussy for me,” Even when he’s tied up, he’s a menace, “Can feel you clenching me baby, you gonna come?” You nod your head but continue bouncing on his cock whilst your fingers bring you to the edge, “Touched yourself for less than a minute and you’re gonna come all over my cock, ain’t ya?” 

“Fuck Joel, it’s just too good.” 

“I know baby, I know,” He’s coaxing you, bringing his hips up to meet you on your way down, hitting that delicious spot inside you that he knows will make you come undone, “Give it to me, darlin’.” 

It’s all you need. You hand is dropping from your pussy, palms of your hands hitting his chest as you convulse around his cock, crying his name out into the depths of his bedroom. He doesn’t let up his thrusts though, pounding into you from below, chasing his own high which soon follows. 

You can feel the throbbing of his cock inside you, wishing that you could feel him painting your slick walls with his seed. Soon, you think, but not yet.

You’re face down on his chest when he mumbles from above you, “Think you can untie me now?”

You chuckle, pushing yourself off his chest to untie the knot. It comes apart easily and you think that if he had really wanted to, he could have pulled his hands apart and freed himself. He’s taking the tie from your hands. 

“Where the hell’d you even get this?” He asks as you collapse onto the bed next to him. 

“It’s my dad’s.” You smirk, turning to him, his eyes wide, dropping the tie to the floor like it had burnt him. 

“M’never gonna be able to look at that man the same way.” He mumbles, turning onto his side, propping himself up on one arm, whilst using the other to rub soft circles on the skin of your tummy. 

“Had to teach you a lesson somehow,” You grin at him, “Bet you won’t tease me again.” 

“Oh sugar, if you’re gonna tie me up and ride me like that every time, you bet your bottom dollar I absolutely will.”