#this is a little wonky in some areas but i Needed him to have big ol sad eyes it was prescribed by my doctor for my health

[ashfdhfgdsfk]

[dixons-sunshine]

Hazelnut | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Daryl didn't know exactly what he expected when his group settled into Alexandria—maybe some snobby, incompetent inhabitants who couldn't stand their ground if something were to happen or people who would turn on him and his group at any given moment, but definitely not a little girl who basically attached herself to his hip. And he definitely didn't expect to find himself drawn to the mother of that little girl.

Genre: Fluff, angst but not a lot.

Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour war. (Timeline is kinda wonky. Saviours kinda don't exist in this? I don't really know.)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, child abandonment, mental abuse, mentions of drugs and alcohol, single parenthood, sexual content but not smut.

Word count: 8k

A/n: This was such a cute idea that @louifaith had! I tried my best, but it honestly sucks. I'm not really happy with how this turned out, but I hope you like it! Also, definitely go check out @celtic-crossbow 's version! Pure perfection, honestly.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, and now for Scud Frohmeyer as well!

—

“You have to lighten up, Daryl. How do you expect to make any friends with that 'leave me alone' attitude of yours?”

Daryl grumbled to himself as he continued tinkering with his crossbow. The hot late afternoon sun was relentlessly beating down on the community as its inhabitants continued about their tasks. Daryl had been observing silently everyone from the porch steps he was sitting on, enjoying the moment of solitude he had, but Carol had other ideas.

“Daryl,” Carol started, crossing her arms as she descended down the steps. She turned around to face Daryl, her voice stern. “It would do you good to socialise a bit.”

“I talked to Tobin when we finished up with the construction of the new walls yesterday,” Daryl replied nonchalantly, keeping his eyes focused on his crossbow instead of the stern woman in front of him.

“That doesn't count. That's work talk. I'm talking about actual socialising. Like, striking up a conversation with someone that isn't in our group or someone you have to talk to for work.”

“I dun' need to. Y'all are the only company I need. Ain't gon' waste my time tryin' to make buddies with people who dun' even like me,” Daryl responded with a sense of finality, gripping his crossbow and getting up. “Now get off my back, woman.”

“Where are you going?” Carol called after him, watching the archer walk away from the house.

“Somewhere,” he replied shortly, ending the conversation effectively.

Slightly irritated, Daryl walked with no particular destination in mind. He passed by some people who sent him friendly greetings and small waves, which he returned half-heartedly. After a while of mindlessly walking about, Daryl stopped in front of a makeshift park of sorts. It was a small area surrounded by grass and had a big tree towards the edge. He moved to sit on the grass underneath the shade of the tree. The few kids in the community loved to play in this area, but it was deserted for now; the perfect place for the archer to relax for a while.

Daryl went about sharpening his knife for a while. The mediocre task kept his mind busy, busy enough to ignore the parents and kids who arrived, busy enough to ignore the wary stares the parents threw his way. Daryl simply shook his head—even after two months, there were still people who were wary of him and the rest of his group. Even after everything they did and sacrificed to ensure the community's safety.

“Mistah lonely?”

Startled, Daryl's head shot up and his eyes locked with those of a little girl who looked no older than three years old. The girl looked at him with curiosity written all over her young face, eyeing the knife in the archer's hands with wonder. She tentatively reached forward to touch the knife, her fingertips close to making contact with the cold metal of the knife.

Daryl jerked the knife away and out of reach of the young girl. “Dun' touch tha',” he barked coldly, standing up to keep the knife out of the young girl's reach.

“Sharp mife?” the girl questioned, moving closer towards the archer. She reached up to grab his arm, trying to reach the knife.

Daryl frowned at the girl. He gently pried his arm away from the girl's grasp and took a step back, unnerved by the soft touch of the child's hands. That didn't seem to deter the girl, however.

“Mistah use sharp mife?”

“Scram, kid. Go back to yer mama.”

“Mama?” the girl asked, her eyes lighting up at the mere mention of her mother. “Mama! Get Mama!”

“Wha'? No, tha' ain't—” Daryl started, but was abruptly cut off when the girl took off and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. Daryl raised his eyebrows as he watched the girl's retreating figure, confused by the interaction he just had.

Well, he thought, at least that's the end of that. However, as Daryl gathered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, he inwardly groaned at the sound of the little girl's voice calling out to him.

“Mistah! Mama here!”

Daryl turned and looked at two approaching figures. The young girl was holding a woman's hand, leading the woman over to him. The woman was laughing lightly, allowing herself to be pulled by the little girl.

“Come, Mama!” the little girl giggled, excitedly tugging your hand harder.

“Okay, okay! No need to rip my hand off,” you laughed, soon coming to a stop in front of Daryl.

Daryl looked at you with a frown, scowling slightly. His eyes darted between the excited little girl and you, slightly taken aback by the friendliness you radiated. Despite everything he's done for the community up until that point, only a few select Alexandrians—mainly Aaron and Eric—didn't show him any contempt or wariness. Yet there you were, smiling up at him and looking as pretty as a picture.

“Mama,” the little girl excitedly told him, pointing up to you. She smiled at you, dimples forming on her chubby cheeks.

“I'm Y/n. You must be Daryl?” You introduced yourself, extending your hand for a handshake.

Daryl looked at your hand, not moving to take it. However, just as you were about to lower your hand awkwardly at his dismissal, the little girl stepped forward.

“Like this, mistah,” she instructed, taking the archer's hand and putting it in yours.

Daryl flinched at the contact and quickly withdrew his hand, looking at the little girl with a small frown. He looked back at you, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

This was the worst random social situation he's ever been in.

“Sorry,” you apologized, giving him a sheepish smile before turning back to your daughter. “Hazel, we don't touch people unless they say we can, alright?”

“Sorry, Mama,” Hazel apologized half-heartedly, not fully understanding what you were saying. She turned back to look at Daryl. “Sorry, Dar.”

“Daryl,” the archer corrected her, talking for the first time since you had approached him.

Hazel looked up at him in confusion. “Dar,” she repeated herself, a look of concentration on her face.

“No, 's—nevermind. Forget it,” Daryl grumbled, shifting his weight from his one leg to the other. He looked back to you again and noticed how awkward you looked, your lips pursed as you avoided his eyes.

“Sorry. She has trouble with the pronounciation of some words and names. I'm working on helping her with that,” you explained.

Daryl noticed the defensive tone in your voice and raised his eyebrows questioningly, yet he refrained from questioning why. “S'alrigh',” he mumbled, awkwardly fiddling with his crossbow that was slung over his shoulder.

“Okay,” you said, gathering Hazel up into your arms. “Well, it was nice meeting you, but I have to get going. I have to get this gremlin ready for dinner. Sorry for bothering you.”

With that, you turned around and retreated back towards the houses, Hazel happily babbling in your arms. Daryl watched your retreating figure with a sense of uneasiness. In that short interaction, he found himself unexplainably drawn to you. He didn't know you, but some part of him wanted to get to know you.

However, as quickly as that thought entered his mind, he just as quickly disregarded it. He didn't need to get attached to any more people, especially people who couldn't protect themselves in this harsh world they lived in. In the end, everyone he cared about died or left, so it was better to spare himself the inevitable pain and keep you and your daughter at an arm's length.

Something told him that it would be easier said than done, however.

—

The next morning, Daryl found himself working alongside Aaron. The two of them were busy carrying large pieces of metal to the wall they were busy fortifying, Aaron making casual small talk while Daryl simply hummed in acknowledgement. Once the last piece of metal was added to the already existing pile, the two men wiped the sweat from their foreheads and took a drink of water, before walking over to Aaron's house. Aaron took a seat on the porch steps while Daryl remained standing on the grass.

“So yeah, that's how I met Eric,” Aaron told him, concluding his story.

“Story straight out a damn romance novel,” Daryl replied sarcastically, eliciting a laugh from Aaron.

“Yeah, yeah. Make fun of it all you want. Everyone always does.”

“Nah, 's a good story. Pretty cliche with the whole spillin' yer coffee on his shirt bit, but 's still a good story,” Daryl assured him. “Now c'mon, didn't ya say somethin' 'bout havin' a part fer my bike?”

“Dar!”

As if materializing out of thin air, Hazel excitedly bounded down the porch steps and threw herself against Daryl, clinging to his leg in a hug. Caught off guard, Daryl stumbled a bit but regained his footing, his eyes darting down to look at Hazel. His eyebrows raised in surprise before he gently pried the girl from his legs, not used to any kid other than Judith clinging to him like that.

“Kid, what are ya doin'?” he questioned, taking a step back from her, but it was to no avail. Hazel simply smiled up at him before throwing herself at him again, clinging to his leg like a monkey.

Aaron chuckled. “I see you've met Hazel. She's quite the character, huh?”

“Wha's she even doin' here?”

“Eric asked to babysit her. He loves having her over, and her mom said yes.”

Hazel giggled against Daryl's leg, turning her head to look at Aaron. “Hi, Rin!”

“Hey, Hazel,” Aaron chuckled fondly, sending the girl a small wave.

“Rin?” Daryl questioned, placing one of his big hands on the little girl's head, accepting his fate of being clung to for now.

“She can't say my name properly,” Aaron explained. “She has trouble with pronouncing some things.”

“Yeah, her mama said somethin' 'bout tha',” Daryl said without really thinking about it.

“So you've met her?” Aaron asked, leaning forward with slight interest. He had a small smirk on his face, one that Daryl couldn't understand.

“Briefly. Hazel practically dragged her over to meet me yesterday,” Daryl replied, looking down at Hazel when he felt her grip loosen on his leg.

Hazel looked up at him and raised her arms, looking at him expectantly. “Upsies,” she said, jumping slightly on her toes. “Dar, upsies!”

To his utter surprise, Daryl found himself leaning down to pick her up. The act hadn't even registered in his brain until the small girl was already in his arms, her small, chubby hands gripping at his shirt as she giggled. The small sound of her laughter made the archer's heart fill with an unexpected fondness, taking him by surprise. It was the same type of fondness that filled his heart whenever he coaxed a laugh from Judith, and yet it was completely different at the same time. He couldn't explain it.

“She seems to like you, Daryl,” Aaron laughed, standing up from his position on the porch steps. “Not a lot of people can say that about her.”

“Wha' do ya mean?” Daryl found himself asking, confused entirely by the man's revelation. From the limited interactions that the archer has had with the young girl up until that point, he naturally assumed that Hazel was this way with everyone. What would make him special enough to the little girl, who just met him, to make her treat him differently than she would others?

Aaron motioned for Daryl to follow him into the house, and he obliged, silently entering the pristine house while still carrying Hazel in his arms. The girl took a great interest in his hair, playing with it to entertain herself.

“From what Y/n told us, she was with a group before she got here who treated her and Hazel badly, and Hazel hasn't fully regained her trust in adults yet,” Aaron explained.

Daryl frowned. “Badly, how?”

“She wouldn't say, but it took forever for Eric and I to gain Hazel's trust. We even tried to bribe her with candy but she wouldn't budge. But she seems to trust you and you say you only met her yesterday?”

“Yeah. She approached me at tha' makeshift park the kids play at,” Daryl nodded, rubbing a hand over Hazel's small back unconsciously, shifting her in his arms slightly.

“Then you're definitely special, buddy. This kid doesn't trust easily,” Aaron declared, sitting down on a chair in the dining room.

Daryl followed his lead, sitting across from him on a chair while still holding the small girl firmly in his arms. Hazel's attention shifted from his hair to the loose threads on his sleeveless shirt, playing with them to keep herself busy.

“They were with a group 'fore this? How long have they been here?” Daryl questioned, interested in knowing more about you.

“Yeah. Hazel and her mom haven't been here all that long. I actually found them a couple of days, maybe a week, before I found you all. From what I know, Y/n and Hazel had been on their own for a while before I found them. Y/n almost killed me the first time we met. She thought I was gonna hurt them. It took me and Eric a while to convince her to come back with us, but even then she refused to let her guard down. She was kind of like Rick when we first met, except she didn't tie me up or force me to eat apple sauce.”

Daryl hummed, hissing slightly when he felt Hazel tug at his hair rather harshly. He brought one of his hands up to pry her hand away from his hair, subconsciously rubbing his thumb over her small fist.

“Tha' hurts,” he said softly, surprising himself by the gentleness of his voice.

“Sorry, Dar,” Hazel apologized half-heartedly. She yawned before laying her head on his shoulder. She wrapped her small arms around his neck, nuzzling her head into his neck.

Daryl felt his heart swell with fondness for the second time that day. He gently rubbed her back. From his experience with Judith, that small action could lull a small child into slumber, and he hoped that proved to be right with Hazel.

“You're good at that,” Aaron commented, a smile on his face as he watched that small interaction between the big, 'scary' man and a small, innocent child.

Daryl looked at him, confused by the look the man was sending him. “Good at wha'?” he asked.

“That,” Aaron repeated himself, motioning to Hazel. “Were you a dad before all of this?”

Daryl stiffened at the question. “Nah,” he shook his head, adjusting Hazel in his arms again. “Not the type of guy who could've started a family back then.”

“And now?” Aaron asked, unaware of Daryl's inner turmoil.

Daryl inhaled sharply. “To start a family ya need a partner,” Daryl started, slightly rocking the small girl in his arms. “I ain't got a partner, and there ain't exactly women linin' up to be with me. So kids ain't somethin' I see in my future.”

“It could still happen, you know? You might meet someone. Hell, you know what? I know you'll meet someone.”

“A lot of confidence fer somethin' tha' might never happen,” Daryl grumbled.

“Never say never, Daryl,” Aaron replied, giving the man a small smirk. “Never say never.”

—

“Mama! Mama!” Hazel called through the house, excitement clear in her voice.

You smiled at the sound of your daughter's voice, glad to be able to see her again after a whole day of being alone at your small house. The sun was setting, the stars starting to twinkle in the sky and you were almost done with dinner. Eric had told you that he would bring Hazel back before sunset and you were starting to get worried, but thankfully she was okay.

You walked into the living room and hunched down to pick up the small girl that ran into your arms, hugging her tightly to you as you placed kisses all over her face. She giggled at the sensation and pulled back, grabbing your hand and excitedly pointing towards the door.

“Mama, Dar here,” she said, smiling widely before turning towards the door.

You followed her line of sight and locked eyes with the archer. You stood up and gave him an awkward smile, painfully aware of the awkward encounter you had with the man the day before. Daryl seemed to mirror your unease—he nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other, ducking his head to avoid your gaze.

“I see that, sweetheart,” you replied, keeping your eyes locked on the man before you.

“I played with Rin and Eric. Dar played too!” Hazel happily exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement as she looked up at Daryl in awe.

“Did he, now?” you asked rhetorically, marvelling at the sudden and unexpected change of character for the quiet man. Just the day before he'd shrugged Hazel off and seemed to want nothing to do with her, yet now your daughter was claiming that the huntsman had spent time with her that day. It didn't make sense.

“Yeah! So fun!” Hazel laughed happily, waddling over to Daryl to seemingly hug his leg again.

Daryl, who had been hugged multiple times that day by the toddler, instinctively crouched down to have her hug his side instead of his leg. Hazel wrapped her small arms around him and nuzzled her head into his neck, and Daryl couldn't help the small smile that spread across his face. One day had been more than enough for him to grow fond of the small girl, and he cursed himself for letting his guard down enough for that to happen, but the damage was already done; that little girl had already wormed her way into his heart.

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself,” you smiled at her, watching the interaction between the archer and your baby girl. “Baby, why don't you go get changed into your blue PJ's, huh? You're a big girl now, right? Think you can get changed without mama's help?”

“Yeah!” she exclaimed happily, pulling away from the hug and giving Daryl a smile, dimples on display. “Bye, Dar!”

“Bye, Hazel,” Daryl greeted her quietly, watching the girl waddle to the stairs and begin to climb them carefully. He then hesitantly shifted his attention to you, but instead of seeing that wariness he'd grown accustomed to other parents giving him, one that he expected you to give him after his encounter with you the day before, there was a look of curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

“Thanks for bringing her home,” you thanked him, offering the archer a small smile.

Daryl ducked his head. “Ain't nothin',” he replied, shaking his head.

“So, you spent the day with her?” you started, looking at him questioningly. “By the way you looked uncomfortable around her yesterday, I would've thought you'd avoid her at all costs.”

“I was spendin' the day helpin' Aaron. He invited me to his place 'cause he had a part I needed fer my bike and Hazel was there. She wouldn't let go of me after she saw me,” Daryl explained, fiddling with his hands.

“So she basically forced you into spending time with her?” you asked with a small laugh, your eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Pretty much,” Daryl joked, his lips involuntarily twitching into a small smile.

You laughed lightly and Daryl chuckled softly, admiring the way your eyes seemingly sparkled. The dim light of the living room gave you a golden glow, and Daryl found himself admiring your beauty. The unnerving thought struck him at full force and he tried to shake that thought from his mind—he couldn't let his mind go there. He wouldn't let his mind go there. He had to keep you at an arm's length. It was bad enough that Hazel broke through his barrier in a day, so he couldn't allow her mom to do the same, too. More attachments wasn't something the archer needed.

“Well, Hazel seems happy. I think you just became her best friend, whether you like it or not,” you told him playfully.

“I have a feeling tha' I ain't got much say in the matter.

“Nope,” you laughed. “But thank you. She hasn't looked that happy in a long time.”

“Glad I could help,” Daryl replied, a small smile on his face. “Sorry fer bein' a dick yesterday.”

“It's fine. We shouldn't have bothered you.”

“Ya weren't botherin' me. I jus'... Wasn't in a good mood, 's all. 'M sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” You gave him a sweet smile before turning around. “Wait here. I'll be right back.”

Daryl frowned in confusion but didn't say anything. A few minutes passed until you reentered the living room, a lunchbox in your hand. You promptly handed it to him, and Daryl could feel the heat radiating off the bottom.

“Wha's this?” he asked, giving you a questioning look.

“Stew. I made more than Hazel and I can finish, so I figured I'd give you some. And before you say anything, just take it. Consider it a thank you gift.”

Daryl pursed his lips but nodded, resisting the urge to deny your 'gift'. “Thanks.”

“No problem at all,” you reassured him, looking up at him with a smile that made his heart flutter uncontrollably.

Daryl ducked his head, willing the blush on his face to go away. “I should get goin',” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“I'll walk you out,” you replied, walking with him over to the door.

Daryl stepped out of your home and turned to you. He gave you a nod and turned to walk away, but stopped when he heard you speak up.

“I hope you realise that she isn't gonna let you off the hook. You're going to be stuck with her now. And my daughter and I are a package deal, so you're going to be stuck with me, too.”

For some unknown reason, Daryl didn't mind that thought at all.

—

“Easy, Hazelnut. Ya dun' wanna hurt yerself, do ya?”

The toddler giggled, her small hands toying with the arrow in her hands. “Sorry, Dar.”

Daryl smiled at the small girl, bringing one of his hands up to ruffle her hair, successfully coaxing another laugh from her. “I know ya are. Jus' try to be more careful, alrigh'? I dun' want ya gettin' hurt.”

“No boo-boos. Boo-boos hurt,” Hazel replied, gingerly handing the arrow back to the archer.

“They do,” Daryl agreed, taking the arrow from the girl. “Tha's why ya gotta be careful, alrigh'? Dun' want anythin' to happen to someone as sweet as ya, Hazelnut.”

Hazel giggled and nodded. “No boo-boos.”

“No boo-boos,” Daryl repeated, smiling fondly at the young girl.

Two months had passed since Daryl initially met you and Hazel. In those two months, Daryl had found himself becoming intertwined with your lives, a constant presence for you and your daughter.

The archer hadn't asked you what had happened to Hazel's father yet, and he wondered when he could be permitted to ask that. However, Daryl knew that there could only be two plausible explanations; either he was dead, or he willingly left. The huntsman really hoped it wasn't the latter. No person should be left to raise a kid on their own.

However, as Daryl's love for the young girl grew, so did his feelings for you. It got to the point where he had started wishing that he was Hazel's dad, that he could've been there during your pregnancy and watched your belly grow. He would've worshipped your body and been there for you every step of the way. However, as much as he wanted that, that was a dream that couldn't be a reality, so he settled on being Hazel's best friend.

“The two of you look like you're having fun. Mind if I join?”

Daryl's head snapped up at the sound of your voice. His eyes met yours and his heart skipped a beat, that sweet smile of yours making butterflies swarm around in his stomach.

“Mama!” Hazel exclaimed happily, hurrying down the porch steps to fling herself into your arms.

You laughed, picking her up and placing a kiss on her forehead. You looked at Daryl and sent him a smile. “Hey, Daryl.”

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, fiddling with the arrow in his hands.

“Mama, play with us!” Hazel giggled, wiggling in your arms to be put down.

You lowered her to the ground, watching her climb up the porch steps and clamber into Daryl's lap. Daryl lowered the arrow and wrapped his arms around her, placing a small kiss to the side of her head. You smiled at the interaction, your heart speeding up against your will.

“I can't, baby. It's time to go home. It's dinner time,” you told her.

Hazel frowned and nuzzled her head into Daryl's neck, a whimper building up in her throat. Instinctively, Daryl started rocking her back and forth, rubbing her small back and shushing her quietly.

“S'alrigh', dun' cry. Ya will see me again tomorrow, alrigh'?” he whispered into her ear, his heart breaking at the sound of her sniffles. When he felt her nod, he placed one final kiss to the side of her head before placing her back down. “Why dun' ya go say bye to Jude?”

Hazel looked at you expectantly, and you nodded. “Go ahead, baby. I'll wait for you.”

Hazel ran into the house, leaving you and Daryl alone on the porch. The archer stood up and walked down to meet you on the grass, pushing his hands into his pockets as he looked at you through his hair.

As you looked at him, it took all of your willpower to resist the urge to brush his hair out of his face and cup his cheek. Not trusting your own hands, you crossed your arms and looked up at the huntsman, giving him a small smile.

“This is the first time ya have come to pick her up. I usually bring her home. 'S somethin' wrong?” Daryl asked, searching your eyes for an answer.

You shook your head. “No, nothing's wrong. I just figured that I could come pick her up for a change. Spare you the walk back to my place.”

“It ain't that far,” Daryl pointed out, motioning down the street. “Jus' a couple of houses down.”

“Yeah, I know, but...” you trailed off, unsure if you should lay your problems onto him.

“But wha'?” he questioned, suddenly on edge. Had you changed your mind about him? About him being around you and your daughter? He really hoped not.

You hesitated for a moment. “It's nothing. Just some mom's around the community who like to be judgy.”

“Wha' are they sayin'?”

“That I'm a bad mom for not taking the time out of my day to pick up my own daughter. That I'm smearing my responsibilities onto other people. Just thought I'd start proving them wrong.”

“Hey, yer not a bad mom. I like bringin' Hazel home at the end of the day. Tha' way I know she's safe.” He also liked it because it meant he got to see you being all domestic, hugging your daughter tightly and sending him beautiful smiles, inviting him to stay for dinner each time. He always declined, not wanting to be a burden, but your offer never waned.

You smiled at him, but it didn't quite reach your eyes. Daryl instantly noticed it and placed one of his hands on your shoulder, taking you by surprise. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and your skin flushed where he touched you.

“Dun' let them convince ya yer a bad mom. I ain't ever seen a better mom than ya. How many mom's here can say tha' they kept their kid alive out there in the real world? Tha' despite everythin', their kid came first and tha' they would kill fer them?”

“How did you know I wasn't here from the start?”

“Aaron told me he found ya and Hazel on yer own not too long before he found us. The fact tha' ya kept her alive on yer own for tha' long proves to me tha' yer the best fuckin' mom under the sun.”

You smiled at him and placed your hand over his that was still resting on your shoulder. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“No problem,” he replied, holding eye contact with you. His hand lingered on your shoulder for longer than necessary, and he gazed deep into your eyes.

Your heart sped up and stopped beating at the same time, noticing a shift in the archer's emotions. However, before either of you could do anything else, Daryl snapped out of it and withdrew his hand, taking a step back.

You cleared your throat and ducked your head, your face heating up. Luckily, Hazel ran out at that moment and bounded down the stairs, throwing herself into Daryl's side and clinging to his leg.

“Bye, Dar!”

Daryl pressed Hazel tightly to him. “Bye, Hazelnut.”

Hazel unwound her arms from around him and moved over to you, extending her arms to be picked up. You did just that, holding her tightly to you. You turned to Daryl and offered him a small smile.

“You know, my offer still stands. You could join us for dinner.”

Daryl was about to decline your offer again, but Hazel cut him off.

“Yes! Please, Dar!”

In that moment, Daryl found that he wouldn't be able to say no. He gave you both a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

You smiled broadly. “Great! Come on, then.”

“Dun' I need to change?”

“No, you're fine, don't worry. You can come as is.”

“Alrigh',” Daryl nodded. “Let's go.”

—

“Could you maybe get Hazel settled into her highchair? I'll be right out with the food.”

Daryl nodded and watched you retreat from the dining room into the kitchen before turning around. “Hazelnut!” he called, hearing the toddler's footsteps come into the dining room.

Hazel stared up at the archer with a huge smile, her arms extended to be picked up. Daryl smiled softly at the girl and leaned down to pick her up, placing her in her highchair. Once he was sure she was settled and wouldn't fall off, he got settled in the chair next to her, listening to Hazel's happy babbling.

Soon enough, you reentered the dining room with a pot of spaghetti and meatballs. The aroma of the meal made Daryl's mouth practically water. The last time he'd eaten spaghetti was when Aaron had invited him, and that was a good couple of months ago.

“It smells fuckin' good,” Daryl said without thinking, and instantly regretted his choice of words.

“Fuck,” Hazel repeated happily, completely oblivious to the horrified look that spread over Daryl's face, and the amused one that spread over yours.

“Nah, Hazelnut, dun' say tha'. Dun' ever say tha',” he told her hurriedly, his heart beating faster at his mistake.

“Fuck,” Hazel giggled.

“No, I jus' said—” Daryl started, shooting you a worried look. However, he calmed down when he saw your amused smile. “Wha's so funny?”

“You,” you told him, laughing lightly while serving everyone some food. “Don't look so worried. I'm not gonna bite your head off because of one slip up. If I had a penny for every time I accidentally slipped up since she was born, I would've been able to buy a yacht in the old world. You're good, don't worry.

“Okay, but we can't have her goin' around sayin' tha', though,” Daryl said, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“You're right about that,” you started, turning to look at Hazel. “Baby, you can't say fuck, okay? That word belongs to Daryl. Until he's ready to share that word, you can't say that, alright?”

“Okay, Mama,” Hazel replied, starting to eat her food rather messily.

Daryl chuckled softly at the girl before turning to his own food. He started eating as well, the flavours of the delicious meal melting on his tongue. He wanted to gulp it all down but he resisted the urge, instead eating with a decency he never knew he had.

The meal was mostly spent in silence, save for Hazel's happy babbling and the occasional input from you or Daryl. Daryl did, however, sneak glances at you when you weren't looking, admiring your beauty and the soft, loving way you acknowledged your daughter and the tenderness you used when you wiped her face clean of the sauce.

Unbeknownst to the archer, you had also been sneaking glances at him. Admiring his gentleness with your daughter, the way his eyes softened and the quiet chuckles he would let out whenever Hazel did something amusing, or the small smiles he gave you. It was amazing how important Daryl had become to you and Hazel in a span of a few months. The big, gruff, quiet man with a heart of gold, who had invaded your thoughts and your heart.

The meal was soon done and Hazel's eyes were beginning to droop. You noticed it and got up to take her out of her highchair. She instantly layed her head down onto your shoulder and closed her eyes, and you placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

“You tired, baby?” you cooed, rubbing her back gently. When she simply responded by nuzzling her face deeper into your shoulder, you laughed fondly and turned to Daryl, sending him an apologetic look. “Sorry, I should probably get this little rascal to bed. You can stay here, I'll be right back.”

However, as soon as you said that, Hazel interjected. “Dar tuck me in with Mama?” she asked innocently, lifting her head up to look at Daryl.

Daryl looked surprised. He locked eyes with you, his heart fluttering at the smile you sent him.

“If Daryl's okay with it,” you whispered.

“Yeah, 'course,” Daryl replied, nodding his head.

You motioned for him to follow you upstairs and he obliged. Together the two of you descended up the stairs and into Hazel's bedroom. Daryl stopped in the doorway, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, but you had other ideas. You gently took his hand and led him into the room, only letting go of it to tuck your daughter into bed. Daryl subconsciously placed his hand on your shoulder instead, watching place your little girl into bed.

Hazel was already half asleep when you put her into her bed. She instantly curled up into her pillow and let out a big sigh, her eyes opening only slightly. In her view, she saw you, her mom, the woman who always protected her when the two of you were living on the road outside the walls, and always loved her despite her shenanigans. And Daryl, the man who at first had been kind of mean, now always there for both her and her mom. The man who started to feel like a daddy to her.

“Night, Mama. Night, Daddy,” Hazel mumbled, her eyes closing and she drifted into slumber. In seconds, she was out cold.

Time froze for a moment. Daryl's eyes widened and his heart practically pounded out of his chest. There was no way that he had heard it right. There was no way that Hazel had just called him dad. There was no way that Hazel trusted and loved him enough in those few months to see him as her father. She couldn't, could she?

He turned to look at you and noticed the unreadable expression on your face. You didn't address what she had just said, however, and Daryl was too nervous to bring it up himself.

“We should probably let her sleep,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” Daryl agreed and followed you out the door.

Together, the two of you descended down the stairs and back into the dining room. You turned to look at Daryl and motioned towards the living room.

“You can wait in the living room. I just wanna put the dishes in the sink and then I'll join you.”

“Nah, let me help,” Daryl protested, moving over to grab all the dishes.

Before you could protest, Daryl walked into the kitchen. You quickly followed behind him and watched him put the dishes in the sink, but before he could start washing them, you quickly stopped him.

“No, it's okay. I'll wash them tomorrow,” you assured him. “Do you want some wine?”

Daryl nodded and hummed, silently observing as you grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, as well as a bottle of wine. You placed the glasses on the counter before popping the the bottle open, pouring the two of you each a glass of wine. You handed him the glass and propped yourself onto the counter, letting your legs swing below you.

Daryl leaned against the counter and took a sip of his wine, humming in approval at the taste. “S'good. Thanks.”

“It's nothing, really. I've been wanting a reason to open the bottle for a while now.”

“Ya can't jus' drink it whenever ya want?” Daryl questioned, taking another sip from the glass in his hand.

“I could, but I prefer not to. I don't want to be like—” you started, but abruptly stopped. You hurriedly took a sip of your wine, welcoming the taste in your mouth.

“Like who?” Daryl asked, frowning at the uncomfortable look on your face.

You hesitated for a long moment, not sure if you should tell Daryl about your past problems. You were afraid that Daryl would look at you differently if you revealed anything. However, as you looked into his eyes, you only saw care and concern, so you found yourself confiding in him.

“Hazel's father,” you said, pursing your lips at the thought of the man you hated more than anything.

“Wha' was he like?” Daryl asked, placing his glass down on the counter. He turned his full attention to you, his eyes trailing over your face for any shift in emotion.

“He was a fucking asshole,” you spat angrily, clenching your jaw in anger. “He was a raging alcoholic and a frequent drug user. He didn't even stop when Hazel was born. If anything, it got worse. I tried so hard to get him sober, but nothing worked. He always yelled at me and threatened to hurt Hazel whenever I brought it up. And then one day, when I woke up, he was just... Gone. No note, no phone call, nothing. Hazel was barely one year old.”

Daryl frowned deeply, anger bubbling inside him at the thought of someone hurting you and Hazel so badly. He clenched his fist and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

“Not too long after that, the world went to shit. His sister came to pick us up and took us to her camp, and that's where I saw that asshole again. He treated Hazel so badly and got the other people in the camp to be mean to her. Hazel didn't even do anything wrong, but they all ganged up on her. Thankfully it never got physical, but that really scarred her. It went on until the camp got overrun, and all of those fuckers got what they deserved. The only reason Hazel and I got out was because his sister helped us. She sacrificed herself for us. After that, Hazel and I were on our own for more than a year. I'm surprised that I managed to keep us alive for that long on my own, but I managed. And then Aaron and Eric found us and the rest is history.”

Daryl was speechless. It angered him that someone would hurt you like that, would hurt little Hazel like that. And the fact that you had to survive on your own for that long... It amazed him. He wished that he could've found you earlier and have protected you and Hazel from all those horrors, but there was nothing he could do to change the past. He could only ensure that nothing ever touched you in the future.

“Yer a strong woman. The fact tha' ya went through all tha' and managed to keep Hazel alive and love her unconditionally proves tha'. Yer amazing and I hope ya know tha'.”

You were taken aback by the sudden confession, but soon a smile spread across your face. You hopped off the counter and stood in front of him, almost chest to chest. You looked up at him, your faces close enough to close the remaining distance between your lips.

“You're amazing too. I don't think you realise how much you mean to Hazel, how much you mean to me.”

With that, you closed the remaining distance between your lips. You pressed your lips against his softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. After a moment of shock, Daryl kissed you back feverishly, pulling you closer by your hips. You gasped against his lips, allowing Daryl to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into his lips and pressed yourself harder against him, eliciting a groan from the man.

As soon as you pulled away for air, you tugged Daryl by the lapel of his vest. “Wanna take this to my room?” you whispered, breathless from the ravenous kiss.

“Wha' 'bout Hazelnut? Won't she wake up?” Daryl asked, pressing his forehead against yours.

“No. She's out cold. The chances of her waking up are basically nonexistent.”

Daryl let out a deep breath and nodded, allowing you to pull him up the stairs. The two of you soon stumbled into your room, hurriedly closing the door and pawing at each other's clothes. However, when you reached for Daryl's shirt, he stopped you, a pained look on his face.

“What's wrong?” you asked, a worried look on your face. “Did I do something wrong?”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah, ya didn't do anythin'.”

“Then what's wrong?” you asked him gently, cupping his cheek in your hand. “Talk to me. I won't judge.”

Daryl inhaled sharply. “I didn't have a good childhood,” was all he said before slowly removing his shirt.

Your eyes hungrily trailed over his body, your hands reaching forward to press against his chest. You didn't understand what Daryl was talking about until you got a glimpse of his back in the mirror in your room. The scars on his back were jagged, and you instantly knew what they meant; someone had hurt this perfect man before you, and you felt so angry.

You walked behind him. “May I?” you whispered, your hands hovering over his back.

Daryl hesitantly nodded. You softly ran your fingers over his scars, your touch feathery light. The archer shivered involuntarily, closing his eyes at the feeling. Before meeting you, the only feeling that he would ever associate with his back was pain from his father's cruelty, yet there you were, tracing over his scars as if they were priceless paintings in a museum.

Soon your fingers were replaced with your lips, and Daryl's eyes flew open. Your lips softly kissed over his scars, trailing down to the last scars on his lower back. When you were done, you turned him around to face you. You gently cupped his cheek, a small smile on your face.

“You're perfect to me, Daryl. You're so sweet, kind and caring. Hell, my daughter called you dad. That says plenty.”

“'M perfect?”

“You're perfect.”

That was all you had to say for Daryl to pull you into another fiery kiss. The two of you soon toppled onto your bed, spending a night filled with passion together.

That next morning when Hazel woke up and walked into your room, she was pleasantly surprised to find Daryl sleeping there, holding you, her mama. She was, however, confused that when she woke the two of you up, you clutched the sheets to your bodies and refused to let her climb under them with you like you normally would do.

��

Two years later...

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Hazel. Happy birthday to you!”

You and Daryl cheered as Hazel blew out the candles on her homemade cake. Hazel laughed as she struggled to blow out the last one of the five candles on the cake, eliciting soft chuckles from you and Daryl. When she finally managed to blow it out, you and Daryl handed her each a gift. She clapped her hands excitedly. She got up from her seat and ran to hug you and Daryl, which you both returned.

“Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Daddy,” she said with a big smile, eyeing the wrapped gifts on the table.

“Dun' thank us yet, Hazelnut,” Daryl responded with a smile. “Go ahead and open 'em.”

Hazel hurriedly opened each of the gifts and gasped with delight, holding up a colouring book, new crayons and a new doll. She giggled in excitement at the gifts.

“Can I go show these to Judith? We can colour and play dolls together now!”

You laughed and nodded. “Sure, baby. Just be good for Michonne and Rick, okay?”

“Okay!” she agreed and took off in a run, throwing the front door open and disappearing out of it.

“I can't believe she's growin' up so fast,” Daryl mumbled, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I know, right? She'll be moving away from home soon enough,” you joked.

“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, chuckling at your joke.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, turning around in the archer's arms. “I got something for you, too.”

“Fer me?” he asked in confusion, frowning slightly. “Why? It ain't my birthday for another couple of months.”

“I know, but this can't wait that long. Here,” you said, handing him a small box.

Daryl gingerly took the box from your hands and opened it. His eyes widened at the item inside, picking it up and looking at it. After examining it for a couple of moments, he confirmed that his mind wasn't playing a trick on him—it was a positive pregnancy test.

“Yer—Yer pregnant?” he asked, a smile spreading over his face.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, nodding your head. A laugh escaped you when Daryl picked you up and spun you around, before he placed you back on the ground and pulled you into a kiss.

When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead against yours. “Hazelnut's gon' have a baby sibling. We're gon' have another kid.”

“We are,” you agreed, closing your eyes. “I love you, Daryl.”

Daryl placed a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I love ya too. And I already love tha' little peanut in yer belly.”

“Hazelnut and Peanut, huh?”

“Yeah. Our two babies. Our own little family,” Daryl said, placing his hand on your stomach, over the life that was growing there.

“We have Hazel to thank for this. If she didn't instantly like you back then, this might never have happened,” you told him, placing your hand over his.

“Remind me to thank her when she gets back later. But fer now, let's enjoy our alone time,” Daryl replied suggestively, tugging you with him as he walked backwards towards the stairs.

“I like that idea.”

[dckweed]

THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND, bob floyd

summary: In which bob floyd gets himself into a bit of a pickle and calls on his hot, recently single neighbor to help him out, the situation is mutually beneficial..in more ways than one.

warnings: fake dating, violence, domestic violence mentioned, nicknames, slowburn, eventual smut, reader has anxiety!

this is an x reader fic where reader is referred to as sunshine or sunny as a nickname, also i know the moodboard is a lil wonky no one say anything im gonna fix it! i made it on my phone half asleep lmao.

this took quite a bit to get out huh? lol anyway send in requests for bob and sunny if you have any my loves!

series masterlist here, series playlist here, comment on part one for the taglist!

PART THREE: bagman. 

Purple and pink lights covered the dark stage, following your movements as you strode across it dressed in nothing but some white strappy heels with cute little cherries on them and a lacey red lingerie set. You had opted for a short wig that night, a blunt bob and in all honesty it made you feel like a whole new person as you stared out at the slightly crowded seating area next to the stage. Rowdy men were hollering already, slapping bills down onto the black top of the stage before you had even touched the pole yet, they were loving it. 

Music starts and you block out the crowd, moving your body to the beat as you do a routine you’ve been practicing in the couple of weeks you’ve been off, wanting to change up your dances for your regulars a little bit. You dance for nearly five songs, your new routine a big hit amongst the crowd and as you stride off of it, stopping to shake your ass here and there in front of who you deemed as deserving gentlemen, picking up handfuls of bills every time you did. The stage was absolutely covered in them, and you couldn’t have been more thrilled. You were fairly certain that there was enough her for you to be able to call it a night if you wanted to, you knew your boss wouldn’t mind if you went home early, he was still iffy about you coming in with a bruise still showing anyway (even though you perfectly covered it with makeup). A stage hand passes you with a big bag as you make your way off stage, the lights off as they go to clear up the money that you couldn’t grab. 

You were headed to the dressing room, needing a break after 5 songs but you’re stopped by your boss, Edwin. “You looked good out there Sunny,” He says an arm popping around your shoulder as the older gentlemen lead you away from the direction you were trying to go. You lean into him head on his shoulder. “Always a crowd pleaser, you are, you were missed during you time off.” 

You smile at his words, despite his hard appearance Edwin was actually a really kind man and he had taken you under his wing when you first came to town, had given you your job illegally even though you had just barely turned 21 and because of it you had grown close. If Bob hadn’t come to your aid the night that your pice of shit ex boyfriend had gone to town on you, you know that Edwin would have (even though he was in the middle of running the club) and he almost did when you called him the next day to tell him what happened. 

“I know it’s your first night back, and you wanted to take it easy,” He says, stopping you in the doorway just before the main floor of the club, where patrons were milling about as the stage hands finished clearing your set. “But you seemed to have caught the attention of one of those ship boys over there by the bar,” He points towards a group of them and you purse your lips, thanking god that none of them looked like Bobby from this angle. “Requested Ivy Wild for a private dance, told him you’re the boss when it comes to that..”

You sigh at the mention of being requested by name, looking back towards the dressing room. You weren’t sure how much you made from your stage appearance yet, not until you counted it, but you knew that if you did a half hour private dance that you’d walk away with three hundred at the least..you couldn’t say no to that kind of money. 

“I’ll take him, put him in room four.” You say, before turning on your heel to head towards the dressing room. “I’m gonna go freshen up real quick before I head in there.” 

The room is dark when you enter, nothing but a dim blue light around the ceiling to light up the room, casting shadows across the firm leather couches and the man lounging across them. You slink your way into the room, coy smile splaying across your lips. 

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing..” The man says, leaning back against the couch. He spreads his legs slightly as he does. He’s clad in dark jeans and a crisp white button up that is so tight you can practically see the outline of his abs through the fabric. You can’t see his face in the shadows but you can tell from his voice and the way he manspreads that he’s handsome, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little excited. “You gonna dance f’me?” 

If you listened close enough he even sounded a little bit like Bobby and for some reason, that made your face flush. “You gonna follow the rules pretty boy?” You flirt, moving your hips to the music that was playing softly in the room, standing just barely in front of him. “You can look but you can’t touch, got it?”

“Whatever you say, hot stuff..” He seems to sigh almost dreamily as you start putting on a show for him. 

You touch your body, letting your hands travel down it as you swing your hips to the beat, putting on a routine for him. Just as you’re about to give him a lap dance, ready to straddle your lean legs one either side of his thick thighs he reaches out for you, fingertips brushing the bare skin of your midriff. “Aht, Aht-” You say, pushing him back with your foot on his chest, your heel digging into the muscular expanse. “No touching, pretty boy..” 

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me here..” 

When you leave the room fifteen minutes later, it’s with a self righteous smirk across your lips. You had made the man cum in his pants with your lap dance and you hadn’t even let him touch you, it was a rarity but you loved when it happened, it was quite the ego boost if you were being honest with yourself. You could have done without the three hundred and fifty that he had left for you and just rode the high of a stroked ego for the rest of the night, but you took it anyway and shoved it in the bag that the stage hands had left by your locker. You would count it out when you got home, you were ready to leave and you were positive you already made over a grand tonight, there was no need to stay other than to see to the other girls but they all seemed okay with themselves tonight. 

You poke your head into Edwin’s office and bid him goodbye on your way out, making your way to the employee parking lot afterwards where you parked your car, It’s a surprisingly short drive home given the time, and when you park your car on the side of the street outside of the building, you’re surprised to see Bob out, Cosie’s leash in hand. 

“Hey, Bobby!” You say cheerfully, hopping out of the car with your duffle bag and bag of cash in hand. He turns at hearing your voice, as though he was startled. 

“Sunny, you getting home early or late?” Yeah, the man earlier sounded almost exactly like him, you think and can’t help but smile. He holds the door open for you and lets you walk in ahead of him after you stop and stoop down to pet Cosie. 

“Early, told Edwin I wanted to take it easy..” You say, walking through the lobby of the building to the elevator with him. He hits the button for you too. You notice the way he looks at you when you mention Edwin and you remember that you never told him much about the club. “Edwin is the owner of the club, my boss..and he’s kind of like my dad in a way though thats a little weird to say because he sees me in lingerie all night..” You weren’t sure where the sudden rambling came from, perhaps it was a reaction to him putting his hand against your lower back to usher you into the elevator before him, or maybe it was the smell of his cologne that lingered in your nostrils but damn it made you feel nervous and giddy all at the same time. 

He hums as he punches the button for your guys’ floor, adjusting the leash to his other hand as Cosie rubs against your legs. You were still clad in your strappy heels, feeling too impatient to stop and take them off. He does the thing with his hand again to user you off of the elevator before him and you just about die on the spot, what is it with you? Was gentlemanly behavior really that big of a thing for you?

Within a few moments you’re at your door, his just a few steps farther than yours and he stops, holding your bag without a word as you shove your key into the lock and bully the door open. You open your mouth to say goodnight but find yourself saying something else entirely. “Do you wanna come in? Help me count all this maybe?” You hold up the bag of cash, and he glances down at it, soft smile on his handsome face. 

“Sure.” He finds himself saying, even though he has work in a few hours. You’re just so sweet with your damn eyes and flushed little cheeks that he can’t say no. 

The next few hours are filled with him sitting with you on your living room floor, sprawled out in front of the couch, piles of money in front of the both of you. You had gone and changed into a small pair of pajama shorts with little red hearts on them and a white tank top, but not before having him take photos of your heeled feet for you so you could post it on your instagram. 

“It’s almost four..” You whisper, your head leaned against his shoulder. You guys had stayed on the floor and you found yourself leaning against him as our eyes drooped, tired from you first day back at work but not wanting to fall asleep just yet. You listened to him tell you stories about his job, and you fell in love with how much he loved his job, how happy it made him. 

“You sleepy, Sunny?” He murmurs, that Montana accent thick. He turns his head to look down at you, almost wishing that he hadn’t because from this angle and in this lighting he could pretty much see through your shirt and it was all he could do not to pop a boner right here next to you at the sight of your pert nipples and supple tits. 

You hum in response, already on the cusp of unconsciousness. The last thing you remember is him shifting, his warm arm coming to wrap against your shoulder as if pulling him farther against him. 

By the time you wake the next morning, he’s long gone, though he’s left you in his hoodie that you don’t remember putting on and with Cosie. You can’t help but pout at his absence, having found yourself more comfortable with someone you were fake dating than anyone you had ever actually dated. You were surprised that you had fallen asleep, that you hadn’t woken when he left and when you check your phone, you’re even more surprised to find a text message with a photo of a sleeping you attached, your head against his chest, eyes closed and peaceful..

Navy Dude: thought i would take something for my own instagram..see you tonight..

You couldn’t help but giggle, breathing in his scent as you read the message and immediately going to check his instagram account before making yourself busy for the rest of the day by taking Cosie on a long walk and doing your pilates work out in the living room, practically counting down the hours until he would arrive to take you to meet his friends. Your first official date as a fake couple. 

You’re just struggling into a cute little yellow dress sun dress when you hear your door open and Cosie give a happy yip, with your arms cocked behind you, you glance towards your bedroom door, hearing his footsteps fall down the hallway. “Bobby?” You call out, almost a whine. “I can’t get my dress zipped..” 

He’s in your room in a matter of seconds, his long and lithe body taking up your doorway. He’s in his service uniform, the tan khaki’s littered with different colors of pins that you would have to ask him about later. You thought he looked handsome in his uniform, but he looked downright drool worthy when he wore his flight suit home, though you assumed they hadn’t done any flying today. 

“Let me help,” He murmurs as you stand in front of him. He bats your hands away before gently moving your loose hair over one shoulder, out of the way of the zip. “Dress looks real pretty..” His fingertips trail down the exposed skin of your back and you suck in a breath, chills going down your spine as they go up, up, up, stopping just between your shoulder blades. 

“Do I look okay?” You ask softly, smoothing out the flowy skirt that just barely went past your mid-thigh as you turned to face him, looking up at the taller man. You had put on enough makeup to cover up what was left of your bruises, but not nearly as much as you had worn at work last night. You were meeting friends, there was no need to paint your face like you would at work. You weren’t sure if you should put on more though, you wanted to look okay for him, you wanted him to have his friends’ approval. 

“You look gorgeous,” He murmurs, corners of his lips turning up as he looks down at you. You were practically chest to chest by that point, you would call it an almost intimate moment. His hand comes up from his side, fingertips grazing against the skin of your cheek before brushing your hair behind your ear, you blush as you notice yourself leaning into his touch slightly. “Think you look real pretty in yellow, Sunnygirl..” 

“Thank you..” You breathe, not realizing that you had somehow moved close enough to him that your noses were practically touching, him stopped down towards you. It wouldn’t take much for your lips to brush together now, just lean into him a little farther, and you would have too if Cosie hadn’t barked from your feet, scaring you so badly that you jump about a foot in the air, cheeks flushing as you realize that you had been about to kiss him and he hadn’t even tried to stop you. 

“Right, so,” You clear your throat, turning to go back to your closet for a pair of matching sandals. “Why don’t I go walk Cosie while you change and then I’ll meet you by your truck?”

“Oh, um, yeah, yeah,” He says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he turns, his own cheeks flushing red. “You do that, i’ll be right down..” 

Nearly forty-five minutes later, he’s pulling his silverado into a parking spot near an old Bronco, throwing the shifter into park. You take in a deep breath, looking over at him. “This is it.” You say, the whole scheme that you two had cooked up finally feeling real to you. The man next to you nods, taking his keys from the ignition and shoving them down into his pocket. “Alright Bobby, let’s do this.” 

The parking lot isn’t overly crowded, but the patrons inside the bar are loud as you walk up to it. Your nerves get the better of you the closer you get to the front doors, your hands shaking with anxiety and you try to channel it into smoothing down your dress skirt but it does no good. Bob notices though, and suddenly he’s sliding his much larger hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay, Sunny.” He says, and you smile up at him feeling like a fool. You hadn’t realized that your anxiety was so noticeable, you thought you had been better at hiding it. 

Before you cn respond to him, he’s pushed open the doors of the bar, stepping in first to hold it open for you, his hand not leaving yours once. Almost immediately there’s a call of his name traveling throught he air and the sounds of chairs scraping and before you know it you’re surrounded by a few big, buff dudes and a bubbly girl who looks the most excited to meet you. 

You do your rounds of introductions, Phoenix gives you a big hug, ripping your hand from Bob’s in the process and practically lifting you off of the ground, and though you’re meeting her under the guise of being his girlfriend, you know that you’re going to be good friends.

Rooster gives you a firm handshake, his ginormous hand enveloping yours as he smiles down at you. You take in his features, he’s quite handsome despite the scarring on his face (that you desperately want to ask questions about, though you keep it to yourself) and you notice the lack of a ring on his hand or on the dog tags looped around his neck, peaking out of the top of the white undershirt he had put on under his loose hawaiian shirt. You think he’d be a good match for one of your friends and you make a mental note to ask Bob about it later. 

Coyote is gentle, and quite sweet but he’s a bit of a flirt and you feel yourself leaning more into Bob while you’re talking with him briefly, wanting it to look like you weren’t available (because technically to them, you weren’t). He introduces you to who you realize is one of his best friends next, Hangman, or as you had heard Bob call him, Bagman. He’s still wearing his uniform, and when he shakes your hand he gives you a charmingly sweet smile that you just know makes the girls weak in the knees, but when he talks to you? Your stomach drops to your knees.”Hey there, pretty thing..” He must know it too, because he smirks at you, that accent heavy. 

You swallow thickly, turning to Bob. “I’m gonna go get myself a drink, I’ll be right back, baby..” You say, giving him a kiss on the cheek for show before heading over to the bar. “Shot of tequila, please..” You say to the woman tending bar, leaning against it as you let out a breath. 

Bob’s friend was the man you had given a private dance to last night..the man who you had made cum in his own pants. How fucking bad could this get, you wondered? You hadn’t exactly lied when you told Bob’s friends that you were a dancer, you just hadn’t exactly specified what kind of dancing you did for a living, not expecting that one of his friends would be one of your customers. 

She sets the shot glass down in front of you just as you feel a presence behind you, directly behind you. His body was solid and warm as he put his arms on either side of yours, boxing you in. 

“Does he know?” His voice his quiet in your ear, making your body go stiff. You were uncomfortable, but you knew that he wasn’t going to hurt you or touch you in anyway. 

“That I made you cum in your pants?” You ask, quirking an eyebrow as you turn to face him. His head was right next to yours, eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “No, Bagman, I don’t think he does, and I don’t think he needs to either.” You knock back your shot, the liquid sliding down your throat with ease. “Just like I don’t think your group of friends needs to know that you spent your sunday night getting a lap dance from a stripper, now do they?”

You must win whatever stand off this is because after a moment his moves his arms, letting you brush past him. You hear him ask for a round of beers from the woman, and to put your shot on his tab as you make your way back to Bob who gives you a questioning look, you realize he must have seen the whole encounter. You lean up to kiss his cheek as you come back, his arm going around your waist firmly as you whisper to him that you needed to tell him something when you guys got home. You honestly thought it was funny, but you were sure that he was going to be freaked out. 

taglist:

@mamachasesmayhem @hangmandruigandmav @shotgunhallelujah @shiara04 @3tabbiesandalab @tgmreader @flrboyd @goosterroose @mrspedropascal5683 @sugajar

@dory-98 @justherebecausesafarisucks @eloquentdreamer @sweetwhispersofchaos @pet1t3 @teacupsandtopgun @milkbummm @purplevortexx @silenterosion

[peterman-spideyparker]

Brief-ish, unsolicited thoughts about the Moon Boys

Not proofread, written on my phone on the fly, posted on the app so if it looks wonky that’s why

Let’s start with our sweet sweet Steven.

He’s such a sweet and doting boyfriend.

Kisses morning, noon, and night.

Steven loves to cook for you. Every dish is exquisite and full of flavor, and packed with love.

At least once a week, you visit him at the museum for lunch. On nice days, you eat lunch on the museum steps. When there’s gloomy London weather, he’ll sneak you into a closed exhibit or the storage room to enjoy some private time.

One thing he loves the most is when you’re at home and you both sit on the couch and read. His hand is always laced with yours, kissing your knuckles and cuddling in close.

In terms of sexy time, I think Steven’s favorite position might be doggy style. Don’t get me wrong, he does enjoy missionary. But doggy style allows him to have a certain kind of control that he lacks at work—and that he sometimes feels that he lacks within the system. He always feels like he has a say in his relationship with you, but doggy style . . . doggy style is control for him. You’re at his mercy on all fours, and how fast you get your pleasure is solely due to his actions.

Sometimes, he’ll mix it up by holding your arms behind your back while he keeps you upright, and other times he’ll push you down so your face is in the pillows and your ass is in the air, acting as his only real focal point.

He’s also been known for a swift spank here and there, but he can’t help it. He really loves your butt.

After, there’s a lot of snuggles. Either big spoon/little spoon where you’re the little spoon and he’s pressing kisses all over your shoulder and neck and wherever else he can reach without moving too much, or if it’s face to face with foreheads resting together, limbs tangled, and the whispering of sweet nothings mixed with kisses, he’s a gentleman through and through when it comes to taking care of you.

And now Marc. This poor man needs all the snuggles.

He didn’t want to date you. Like at all. He would try his best to keep you away, but he always found himself drawn to you.

One day, he bit the bullet and asked you out for some coffee. It’s coffee—what’s the worst that could happen. Famous last words.

By the time you drank half of your drink, he was smitten, and by the end of your respective cups, he knew he was in love.

He waited nearly a week after that date until he texted you.

“She’s not gonna respond, Spector,” he grumbles ten seconds after clicking send, rubbing his hands down his face.

You respond an hour later, and Marc is mortified to look at his phone, but feels like he can breathe again when he reads your message.

“Sorry, I was giving a presentation at work! Dinner sounds great. How about Thursday?”

He’s truly flabbergasted. You said yes.

The night of the date, he gets to the restaurant early, twiddling his thumbs and wringing his hands as he stands across the street, watching if you actually come. Panic washes over him when he sees you get to the restaurant, getting a table for two in the patio area. He knows the second that he crosses the street and sits across from you, he’s done. He’d be yours forever.

Time moves fast while he works up the nerve to cross the street, and he jumps out of his skin when he feels his phone vibrate.

“Hey,” he breathes shakily.

“Hey,” you mimic. “You know, I can see you standing across the street. I have this whole time. Marc, if you didn’t want to—.”

“That’s not it,” he interrupts. He can’t let you think like that. “I’m just . . . It sounds ridiculous.” He lets out a deep breath. “I’m nervous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” you reassure him softly as you turn and look at him in the eyes from across the street. “But I can tell you from many years of experience of being nervous and anxious—the best way to stop being nervous is to just do the thing freaking you out. It has to happen eventually, and if you keep building it up in your head, it’ll only get worse.”

He lets out a shallow breath, hanging up and jogging across the street to you.

When it comes to sex, I feel Marc has two positions he really prefers—missionary, and lotus.

Marc is a man that like control, but he also takes great comfort in predictability, which is what these positions offer for him: they both allow him to be as close as possible to you, he can change little motions in his hips to make it rougher or gentler for you, he can go deep, and most importantly, he can see your face. He can see every last iota of pleasure on your features, he can kiss you over and over, and you ground him, reminding him you’re here with him and that everything is okay.

He always marks up your neck one way or another. Sometimes it’s lingering wet kisses, other times it’s red marks that fade, and more often than not, little purple hickies on the column of your neck that remain for long after the sex has stopped.

You’ve come to find that Marc likes a little pain while you’re being intimate. Not much, but a scratch of your nails through his hair, on his back, or on his arms turns him into putty in your hands.

Cuddles are mandatory aftercare for Marc. You keep him present and remind him that even if he’s feeling low, you’re there for him.

More often than not, it’s face to face cuddles, his head resting on your chest so he can listen to your heart while you play with his curls.

And just like with aftercare cuddles, Marc will always wake up early the next day to make you breakfast in bed. It’s nothing grand—truly, sometimes it’s toaster waffles and a cup of coffee—but you absolutely love it.

Now to Jake.

He’s attracted to you as soon as he meets you, but he chose to stay deep within the headspace until he knew you weren’t gonna leave or hurt Marc or Steven.

He doesn’t stick around for more than fifteen minutes when he does eventually come out, but you’re warm and kind to him.

“You must be Jake,” you hum with a soft smile. “I’m happy to finally meet you.”

Jake just nods, leaning back and drinking his spiked coffee and watching you go about your morning as you read the paper.

One day, Jake is fronting when he comes home after a rough mission. He sees you on the couch, looking lonely and less vibrant and, well, looking less you than you usually do.

He takes off his jacket and hat, putting it on the stand by the door. Jake moves over to where you are on the couch, sitting down next to you, and carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to rest on him.

You both don’t know what to do at first, both stiff and nervous, but when you shimmy down on the couch to get comfortable on him, he breathes a sigh of relief. Jake tilts his head and rests his cheek on the top of your head.

The romance between you two is slow, but it’s strong. And once the fuse is lit, there’s no stopping it.

The first time Jake kisses you, he’s nervous, but as soon as his lips meet yours, he knows with every ounce of his body that you’re the only person outside of the system that he could ever love.

The kiss turns into a make out session, and that make out session results in both of your clothes being shed all over the apartment and you trapped between his body and the mattress.

You two spin around in a litany of positions, but Jake loves it when you’re on top, hands on his chest, riding him like an award-winning equestrian front and back.

His hands grip your hips not to guide you or control you, but as a firm, silent encouragement for your actions.

Jake praises you in Spanish all through your lovemaking, calling you every pet name in the book: “corazón”, “hermosa”, “amore”, and so many others. His fluency and the lit of his pitch goes right to your core, only making the sex more incredible.

After both of you are spent, Jake kisses your cheek and neck, moving to the bathroom to get a cool damp cloth to cool down your burning skin and cleaning you up between your legs.

Jake tosses the towel into the nearby bathroom, somehow getting it to rest and hang over the side of the tub.

He rests on his side as he watches you lie on your back, looking up at him and lacing your fingers together and talking about anything that comes to mind before you fall asleep in his arms.

[feralmoonlight]

have this shitty re-doodle of H.O.E. Eclipse I was attempting the other day. I FORGOT to figure out where his arms were gonna go so I just... bleh. SLIGHT update from the original version I did of him way back when but mostly slight color adjustments and changing his arms a lil? Also hat shenanigans. Slow and steady I'ma actually do refs for my main AUs again with design updates. Also, HOE Eclipse is a 'both of them at once' style, not his own personality. It's a little chaotic, his speech patterns and movements, either side controlled a bit more by their respective bot, but either can strong arm full control over the body depending on what they need to do. Various protocols between both that clash are also vaguely scrambled, so where Moon can move freely throughout the plex for security reasons, Sun is still technically locked to the Daycare area, but since that conflicts, it makes for some wonky reactions. He's very awkward and jerky, and his words can overlap or get cut off by one or the other. For the most part, Sun and Moon can cooperate well together. It's very rare for this mode to trigger, and usually happens during extreme circumstances, like high stress or a situation where one needs to override their own protocols with the others capabilities, but full switching wouldn't normally be possible (Usually due to the light issue.) I've got more info on this idiot too but that would dip into spoiler territory. The BIG takeaway is he is MOSTLY not dangerous for YN. Mostly.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

How about some meta about what Grima drinks? What do you think he prefers when it comes to ales and wines, how does he take his coffee, and so on? And does he like something to nosh on while he drinks (meats/cheeses/veggies with wines and ales, sweets with coffee, etc)?

Oh I do love a food history question! I’ve answered asks about alcohol preferences before and also food so for reference, links to my previous ramblings: here and here and here and here and here.

I. might like to talk about Grima & food a lot. Maybe.

Tl;dr: I don’t think Grima’s ever had coffee or “true” tea (i.e., tea from the tea plant). Granted, if it existed in Rohan Grima would have a coffee IV drip inserted into his arm because that man looks like the walking dead in terms of a clear need for sleep.

Much more likely, he would have been drinking herbal teas/infusions/tisanes (e.g., dandelion or nettle). For alcohol: he mostly drinks wine, because it’s a status symbol. But he prefers ale and mead. I don’t know how he feels about ciders—I can see him going in different directions on that.

I also ramble about what he’d be snacking on as well—sweets mostly, breads (he loves carbs, we all know that is a man who loves carbs), various cheeses and yoghurt/yoghurt adjacent things.

---

As always, I wrote you all a novel.

---

Some Preliminary Meanderings on Trade

So first, I don’t know that Rohan has coffee or tea? (When I refer to “tea” here I mean tea from the tea plant (Camellia sinensis, which is native to China) I’ll distinguish other teas by calling them herbal teas or infusions etc.)

It’s hard to parse food and trade customs in Middle Earth because Tolkien wasn’t thinking like a historian, he was thinking like a linguist and a literature professor. Therefore, things are a little wonky when you try and work them through from a regional economics perspective.

For example, we know hobbits have tea, but no one else is mentioned as having tea. When drinking happens in other places it’s almost always wine or ale or mead or some other alcoholic beverage.

We also know hobbits have tobacco, which is a North American import. Obviously Tolkien created lore around how they got tobacco, since he seemed to be trying to keep Middle Earth pretty pre-colonization of North and South America in some ways. So they wouldn’t have had access to foods like tomatoes, potatoes, certain squashes, avocado, bananas, pineapples [yes, for all my tomato & pineapple jokes Grima wouldn’t know what they are], corn, certain beans etc. Most of this food wasn’t imported from the newly colonized north, south, and central America and the Caribbean until the 16th century.

LOTR is, first and foremost, a fairy tale smashed with legends such as those found in Arthuriana (Frankish and English versions), Italian legends, and the Scandinavian and Anglo-Saxon mythos (think: Beowulf, various poetic Eddas etc.) This is why there are moments where things don’t quite work smoothly if you think about them long enough. (Hobbits are weirdly self-sufficient and technologically advanced yet we know they have regular contact with Bree who seems a hundred years behind them?)

The big, key thing is that Middle Earth, in the third age, is a fundamentally disconnected world. Even before Sauron’s return to Mordor, the human population across Gondor and Rohan and other areas has been decimated through war and diseases of the second age and early third age.

When we meet Rohan they’re a bit isolationist, aside from the strong connection to Gondor—how much of that is Grima, how much is Theoden, Thengel, Fengel, who knows. I can see Fengel starting the trend, Thengel and Theoden had strong pro-Gondor biases so would have repaired any fraught connections with that country, but I don’t see either really caring about anyone else. Rohan seems to have some strong xenophobic tendencies.

Grima, in his treason days, would have seen the benefit of an isolated, weak Rohan so would have kept it that way. If not made it worse.

Therefore, who is Rohan trading with? Gondor. Maaaaaaaaybe Laketown/Dale? But I personally see that as a stretch given the mass amount of pretty much desolate land between Laketown/Dale and Rohan. Also, it’s clear by Eomer’s reaction to Gimli that they’ve had no interactions with the Lonely Mountain. Like. Ever. If they had, Eomer would have known Gimli’s name and even if he’s the most truculent man Rohan’s ever produced, he knows how to do Prince Behaviour and would have acted accordingly.

Anyway, it's one thing to send a delegation or ambassador across such swaths of land on a specific mission, another to have merchants trekking that distance with no real support or safety network. They’d get robbed in a heartbeat.

Gondor has been on tense terms with pretty much all her neighbours, save Rohan, for a few generations at this point. Trade relations with Harad, Umber, and out east (Rhun etc.) are likely non-existent. And have been for a good while.

---

What does this mean for coffee and tea?

Going on Tolkien’s structuring of the world, I presume coffee and tea came from Harad and out east of Rhun since those spaces broadly represent middle east/parts of Africa (e.g., some aspects of Umber was loosely based on Ethiopia) and The East as seen through the lens of an Englishman steeped in a racist, orientalist culture.

Now, we know that Harad and Rhun are both aligned with the dark lord (just coincidentally, not at all for racist reasons /sarcasm/), and have had a historically fraught relationship with Gondor (lot’s of attempted colonization by Gondor, wars, bad international relations), I’m assuming there’s not been trade between them for a good, long while.

So, if there is coffee or tea in Gondor it’s been smuggled in. Therefore, if there’s coffee or tea in Rohan it’s what’s been smuggled into Gondor and somehow managed to be sold on into Rohan for a whack, whack tonne of money.

Perspective: In 14th c England a pound of ginger cost the same as a sheep—and that is a more or less accessible product procured legally.

Could Grima afford coffee or tea? I honestly don’t know. If he could, it’d be like half a year or a whole year’s income. That’s even presuming he would have had an opportunity to procure it. If he did, it’d be a rarity and would have been sold on the down-low, because of the obvious implications of what it means to have access to it.

Post-war of the ring? Gondor throws her weight around, (re)colonizes some places, forces others into subjugation, and as a result trade networks are likely reopened—either willingly or by force. So, after the war I see coffee and tea becoming far more accessible in Gondor and therefore, more accessible in Rohan.

-

I could see it being something people remember. Theoden’s father remembers his grandfather drinking coffee, that sort of thing.

Since I have Grima’s mother coming from the east as a quasi-refugee, she’d recall tea from childhood/young adulthood. It’s just they can’t get any, because of the war and the distance and lack of reliable trade network.

---

What does this mean for our favourite snake man?

So, what would Grima be drinking aside from ale and mead and wine and imported liquor?

Water, of course. There’d be wells also possible access to spring water (depending on where they are). So that’s an option.

There’s also milk. The Anglo-Saxon and early Medieval Scandinavian foodscape did funky, fun thinks with lightly fermented milk products—and aside from turning it into cheese, skyr, and iterations of kefir, they’d also soured dairy run-offs to cure their meat over the winter as an alternative to salting.

The one really relevant to the ask is herbal teas/tisanes/infusions. These would be drunk in medicinal settings as well as for ritual/spiritual reasons. Some were also likely imbibed for the pleasure of it. The ones noted below are a mix of medicinal, ritual, and herbal teas that taste nice.

Some common herbal teas Grima might have access to include, but are not limited to: dandelion, rosehip, elderberry, mugwort (do drugs, commit treason), valerian (as a sedative), mint, yellow gentian, fennel, nettle, clover, pine, rosemary, sage, poppy (another sedative, but also used for other ailments), St. John’s wort, apple and berries, local mushrooms etc.

Some options he’d have easier access to once he is in the king’s household would include ginger, cinnamon, liquorice, vanilla (so. fancy), cardamom, hibiscus and so on.

In the wine camp, he’d also have access to verry and fruit wines—elderflower cordial being one example. But there’d be apple and berry wines. In the early middle ages, based on accounts from Arabic travellers, it appears that these were highly alcoholic and people were spinning after only a few cups and these are people with a phenomenally high alcohol tolerance.

-

As mentioned in previous posts, I believe Grima likes his wine as a status symbol because bitch yeah, I made it. Look at my anachronistic pineapple decorating the table. However, outside of the wine I think he had a preference for herbed ales and meads infused with berries and other additives.

I always run his palate from sweet to tart. So he’d like Jamaica, if that version of hibiscus tea existed in Middle Earth. Sweet and sour, he’s into that flavour combination.

For herbal teas, I think he does a similar approach as he does for alcohol wherein he’ll drink ginger and cinnamon and cardamom once he’s in the king’s household as a status symbol. He can afford the fancy tisanes.

That said, as with alcohol, I think he does have a preference for the simpler teas he would have grown up with. Apple, nettle, rosehip, the various berry infusions/tisanes, and mint. He would be the person who adds a lot of honey to it, though.

Healer person: You know you should drink the dandelion tea straight with no additives, right?

Grima: I am going to put my body’s weight worth of honey into this cup and there is nothing you, or the gods, can do to stop me.

If we’re running with Grima doing some iteration of seidrcræft, there are some herbal teas that would be used to induce a trancelike state such as mugwort, henbane, mandrake, vervain and the like. Yeah, some of these are deadly, but in small doses are mild intoxicants/hallucinogens. Not to mention those Local Mushroom Teas.

One day I will write Grima doing more historic seidrcræft and not like Fantasy Seidrcræft and we will just get to see him being high as a kite while meditating and rocking back/forth to rhythmic chanting.

Does Rohan have drums? The Vikings didn’t. Tolkien doesn’t mention them having drums, only various wind instruments. Who knows.

---

Rohan has breakfast—when Aragorn et al arrive at Meduseld there’s mention of Theoden’s meat having arrived at the board, but it’s morning, so presumably it’s breakfast. Not all societies do breakfast, so that’s a notable thing.

Early medieval Anglo-Saxons and Scandinavians seemed to do three meals a day, with breakfast being light, and lunch/dinner being heavier. Not that people didn’t have light snacks here and there, they for sure did, but the three/four o’clock afternoon break for tea or coffee wasn’t a ritualized thing. I also have Rohan following that example.

All of that said, I envision Grima as a snacky person. He’s always nibbling on something at any given moment. He was that kid who could eat a cow and then some and still be hungry. Hollow leg, that sort of thing.

So, he’s sitting there in a council meeting or something and out of no where an apple materializes and people are like “where did you get that” and Grima just smiles and eats it and Eomer is like “Why do you think his robes are so big? They’re full of lies and also snacks.”

Eomer has ransacked Grima’s anachronistic office that Fandom, myself included, have given him for snacks. He knows where Grima keeps his secret stash of baked goods and other treats snaffled out of the kitchens.

Grima’s light fingers extend to procuring treats for himself as well as shiny objects.

And for sure Grima has a sweet tooth—which I think is an across-the-board fandom read on him? At least, those of us in the Grima Camp have that read, from what I’ve seen on tumblr and in the fic I’ve read.

---

Does Grima have a ritual around at least one of the smaller meals that’s not a formal event? I suspect he does. He strikes me as someone who likes his rituals and habits and so on.

For me, I like to think it’s breakfast. This man is not a morning person. He drags his desiccated carcass out of bed, splashes water on his face, contemplates if he needs to shave or not, drops himself into his clothes and shuffles out into the main hall.

He then procures for himself some herbal tea of some kind with a half-tonne of honey dumped in. It has made Eomer nauseous watching Grima add honey to his tisanes. He just chucks a whole ass honeycomb in.

Eowyn: vile. that is disgusting

Eomer: Pretty sure the spoon can stand up in it.

Grima: I need the sugar. We don’t have caffeinated beverage in our country. You don’t know how much I am suffering, Eomer “I wake up at 4am for a light 10k and some push-ups” son of Eomund and Eowyn “I have more energy than the gods ever intended one person to have” daughter of Eomund.

Anyway.

After he gets his tea made to his liking he gets a bowl of some sort of yoguhrt/skyr adjacent product with some berries and disappears around the back of Meduseld to consume it in peace and allow himself to slowly wake up without the rucous of people like Eomer being bombastic and entirely too awake for the hour (it’s like 10am).

---

For some sweet foods he could be snacking on, that I assume him to be partial to, here are a few examples (taken from a previous post):

Sweet & fried breads (e.g., gingerbread, apple loaf, proto-funnel cake etc.)

Fried, baked or stewed fruits, also candied nuts

Sweet cheeses

Custards

Tarts, pies, cakes, and cookies (a very wide range of these existed, include medieval cheesecake)

Sweet toasts i.e. toastee (most usually topped with spiced honey and available nuts)

---

Some brief notes on day-to-day food

Obviously everything Grima eats is seasonal. And I’ve talked about it before, in other posts, but I have never envisioned him as being a picky eater (until Saruman & the Lotho Incident). He was raised in a subsistence-based society, that seems to be pretty much living harvest-to-harvest therefore diets of those who are not nobility are mostly limited to what they have access to locally. Which can be quite diverse! But it depends on the time year and where they are in the country.

Obviously the average Joe living in Edoras, the capital and a trade centre, will have a wider variety of food to choose from than a farmer in the countryside. But still, everyone is constrained by season as well as income.

-

Bread would have been a huge thing, considering it’s a staple of their diet. I also see Grima just fucking loving carbs. He eats so many of them. They make him so happy.

Neil Price writes:

A whole doctoral thesis has been written on just on Viking bread, and it is in the details of daily life like this that the vividness of their world really emerges. From graves and settlement contexts all over central Sweden, but especially from the Birka burials, at least nine distinctive kinds of bread are known. There were rectangular loaves baked in a form; round loaves threaded on a thin wire; oval buns; thin, soft and foldable flatbreads made on a circular griddle pan—rather like a sort of Nordic tortilla stuffed with food; thin, circular wheels of dry, crisp flatbread with a central hole so they could be hung up for storage […]; at least two different kinds of biscuits; little balls of friend dough; and crunchy figure-of-eight shaped snacks that resemble pretzels or, more particularly, the Swedish nibbles still called kringlor. They made their bread with hulled barley and oats, sometimes wheat for the thinner forms, and very occasionally rye.

-

As for meat Grima would eat mutton, goat, beef, pork, chicken, duck, geese, various other waterfowl and game birds, deer, boar, other game meat and forms of venison (Rohan doesn’t have elk, moose or reindeer, it seems, but they’d have deer and the like). He’d also eat freshwater fish, eels, snails, molluscs, plants (e.g., watercress), and other things of that sort.

Pre-Lotho Sackville-Baggins Possible Cannibalism: He’ll eat pretty much anything put in front of him. He has his favoured foods, but there’s no real show-stoppers for him.

Post-Lotho Sackville-Baggins Possible Cannibalism: he goes basically pescatarian + chicken unless he feels he must be polite and eat the meat put in front of him. He’s better with beef or goat but he absolutely can’t do pork.

The reason for the fish + chicken is that I firmly believe Middle Earth is composed predominantly of societies that don’t see chicken as real meat. So, if Grima is like “I don’t really do meat” everyone is like “that’s fine, we have chicken.”

Grima: I’ve gone off meat. After the Saruman Incident.

Eomer: Reasonable. Entirely reasonable. But that’s ok because we have fish and there’s also lots of chicken, gamebirds and waterfowl. So we’re all good! You can avoid meat very easily.

Luckily for Grima, he is born and raised in this society and so therefore would agree with them.

-

I feel like vegetables and fruit are all pretty self-explanatory. Pretty much keep it pre-colonization of north, south, and central America and the Caribbean and you’re probably on the right track.

Grima would be eating lots of carrots, turnips, parsnips, beetroot, cabbages/lettuce/chard/other herbage, onions, garlic, certain beans, peas, other legumes etc.

For fruit the local options are likely various apples, pears, plums and other stone fruits, many different berries (gooseberry, blackberry, red currant, bilberries etc.). Theoden’s household could likely import more exotic options of oranges and other citrus, pomegranates, quinces, grapes, rhubarb, and the like.

Depending on the kind of orange that exists in middle earth, they may not have had the sweet varietal, only the bitter or sour orange.

---

Holy shit, I have written way too much on this.

Thank you so much for the ask! My apologies for how fucking long it got.

[sacred-stanning]

Chapter 13 Part 6: Yoinking stuff for future use

So Franz is ready to move forward and heal up with an item, and I check out the enemies below. This one, with this range has something interesting.

He has a dragon spear, which he'll drop! It's effective against dragon types.

I leave Franz here on the forest. He's not in range of the dragon spear guy, but the other guy can reach him.

On the right, Vanessa demonstrates her air superiority, and L'Arachel heals Gerik. She's been getting to heal almost every turn, which is good since she needs to get experience and get herself to level 10 ASAP.

Ephraim takes out the archer.

And Gerik moves down to get the last axe guy.

Lute then goes ahead to the village.

This woman also speaks of how kind Selena is and asks us to save her.

We get a "Mah-yoh-kay" which could be translated as an "anti-magic charm", but is actually translated as the much more natural sounding (and no less accurate) "talisman". It raises resistance, so I guess this woman wants someone to walk straight into Selena's magic attacks and try to talk her down.

So here's the right group before we end turn.

Look at him trot! :)

My prediction was right, Cormag gets targeted by Selena next, and he gets hit too.

So Moulder rushes in to patch him up. This is what I meant when I said that Moulder didn't need two different weapon types like Sage would have given him. He's gone this whole map only healing, and never attacking, and that's going to be the general pattern moving forward too.

I notice that this guy has a hammer, which should be effective against Franz since he's a Great Knight now.

I move Tana and Franz down to team up on this guy, and Franz breaks his javelin just in time to pick up the Dragon Spear.

Now that pirates are appearing in the bottom left area, I decide to send Marisa down that way in the hopes that she can get some easy combat. I'll have Seth finish off the archer, and then Marisa can just deal with the axe guys who should have bad hit against her.

This mercenary has a Zanbato, which is effective against horses, but Lute was on the other side of a river, so it sucks to be this guy.

Even this late into the game, here is Seth killing guys twice over.

He hasn't even gotten that many levels thanks to how experience gain works with promoted units. He's just that insanely strong.

I was trying to capture it here, but Selena actually targeted L'Arachel this time! She missed, but I was a little surprised since L'Arachel has decent res.

But again, I think there might be something wonky about how enemies with big range like this target. It may not be based on who they'll do the most damage to. I feel like I remember hearing something like that before.

Oh, and it turns out the lone troubadour near Selena has a sleep staff!

Next time: A lot of work for little reward

[the-firebird69]

So you want that s*** out of there and we're working at it but they're not going anywhere and we have some reasons why

-a major attack is going to begin and it is going to be on his black ship fleet first and they did compare notes and said we should not waste ourselves away we needed for that fleet and to stop these things and it's true. And you're talking about a huge fleet it's going to meet these assholes and they need to pay it's going to be massive too fixing up and go after the other ships. The tackle probably commence within an hour no it'll be later tonight or early in the morning and they're getting ready so it's going to be sucky and they're getting their ships ready the second round and they're not in a big rush yet. They lost some more ships but not that many they're losing troops and they're losing their bases and that's why you need them out of there can't have the threats you know I'm out of all the tunnels we need them out of all the tunnels. And we're doing it now they have five megabases and about 200 bases other than that all of them are under severe attack across the board it's like they're at 50% and really that's not bad that's a huge area and it's twice the United States right now and it was it was four times the United States so it's shrinking that's a huge force and a calling for more now and they're going down there and hitting with ships and all sorts of stuff swarms of these small ships are useful and son said it too and they've been doing it. Everybody's pretty happy and saying it works and he says you got to get in there and take their space planes cuz they work in there too cuz they kind of assume around like spaceships and they said wow that's unique and she's going to do it and she's flying one in the movie and you can see her zooming around stopping spinning and it moves like a spaceship it has all these retro rockets and they're all getting on it now and they see it too they need to retrieve them it's a good idea

Not to mention tanks for trying to take over Florida

Thor Freya

I got a huge idea why don't we get him to do something else and yeah it could be doing something else I like this idea with the Volkswagen that's pretty sweet and there are people with the kit and they're putting the old one on it and say that kid sucks and it really kind of looks bad and they try and doll it up and it doesn't work and actually it looks kind of silly even with everything right and we know what he's saying it's going to be different people are trying these different fuselages and it goes pretty fast but not as fast as his so I'm trying to make one the same shape with better features it's not really working out matter of fact it looks dumb I can't get the damn thing to shape right and say why not you make a mold and I can't modify it right and I don't have the equipment it's not right I make them old and I start making changes and comes out kind of crappy so you make them old and you cast a new one it's a little thick and I'm starting to get this it's kind of a method and I've heard about it so I'm going to cast a new one and make it thick so you can like do things to it modify things attach things so I did that actually and it's starting to work there's a hard thing to do the thing is a bear can't get it out you have to cut them old a little so I'm sitting there looking at it and I added some things and took some things out and I didn't change the general shape and you're saying basic stuff is the what it really needs and take out the hokey door. So put in a solid top like most supercars have and the gold wings and the switch doors won't work and I looked at it and said there's something stupid about it and I couldn't believe it it's the front end it looks wonky it doesn't go low enough and I checked it with new tires and rims it looks really cool and I'm wondering why it doesn't go low enough and it goes like 4 in and you're saying why would you want it lower and I checked the profile in the wind tunnel when you turn it all the way up it's pushing the nose down real hard anyways and you said that's why just now and that's why since how do you make it not look so hokey he's going to look at the front end

Mac daddy

Good

Bob marsh

It's not a Jew and shut up. This good work and we're trying to get it done.

Mike tew

Olympus it's actually working on it and he did what you said before and he needed that chunky mold idea it works pretty good actually a chunky first version it's like the clay they work on so we're going to modify ours now we have it ready to go just waiting for them to do it

[dani-the-mark]

A Slept-On Review: WWE Smackdown 9/23/22

Note: to anyone who took the time to read my very emotional post last night, thank you.

The Bloodline Segment 

The entire Bloodline enters. It’s really cool to see them all together. I am unfortunately reminded of both the existence of Crown Jewel and that Roman is wrestling Logan Paul. Once again, Paul Heyman saves the day and my interest in the segment. Simply, “You don't boo the Wiseman”. Solo officially acknowledges Roman and they share a hug. It’s an excellent moment to see them being affectionate. It reminds me that they are, at the core, a family. Sami cuts the music as they all go to leave. Sami wanted to acknowledge Roman himself, and in the process, very awkwardly gets sentimental. Roman laughs, asks him why he is talking, and demands he remove his Bloodline shirt. The turn had arrived. Jey rips the shirt off of him, and you can tell Roman is breaking Sami’s heart. Then Roman gives it right back, along with Sami’s new honorary Uce shirt. Jey is pissed, but I loved every second. 

Liv Morgan vs Lacey Evans

Lacey looks weird and really shouldn't be here, but at least Liv gets some fire at her expense. She’s getting scary.  Lacey tries a kendo stick and is met with a wonky code breaker. Liv recovers and gets the pin We get an after-match attack, with Liv taking control of the kendo stick. She yells, “I can get extreme!” and launches Lacey into the barricade. Liv continues with a beautiful senton, sending Lacey through the table.

I still can't help but see her as a little baby, but Liv Morgan is showing she is capable, strong, and aggressive when she needs to be. I love her so much.

Backstage Segments

This all technically occurs throughout the episode in very small segments, but I’m going to summarize it all here to avoid breaking up the overall story. Hit Row and Street Profits are having a party backstage, and Shin joins them as an apparent “Sami Zayn” of the group. As they are joined by more of the roster, such as Sonya, Natalya, Angel, and Humberto. Angel and Humberto interrupt B-Fab’s conversation in what seemed to be an attempt at flirting with her. B-Fab snaps back, and soon after, Top Dolla forces the men to back down by slamming them into the ground. A match is set up for next week against the tag teams. It’s all fun to watch, and it’s a quick way of getting them in the ring with some sort of motivation. 

In another section of the backstage area, Madcap and Ricochet find Sami. I once again ask, why are these men partnered up now? They’re somehow buddies now, and it just does not work for me. They begin to basically bully Sami. They proceed to get obliterated by Solo for disrespecting Sami.

The New Day vs MMM

All my boys in one match! I already loved this from the moment it was announced. Also, the outfits on both teams are incredible. If you don't watch anything else, watch this match just for the aesthetics. MMM owns it for a while, and uses some really great cheeky heel work to gain advantages. However, New Day is able to sneak a smooth pin, and basically steal the victory. 

Otis vs Braun Strowman 

This was exactly what you'd expect if you know anything about these men, except not a squash. They throw themselves at each other and throw each other around. Braun has the momentum and an important storyline, so he gets the win.  But, he still gets a real fight. I see you HHH making good writing decisions. 

Drew McIntyre Promo 

Drew is here and has a leather strap. He calls out Kross and challenges him to a Strap match. Despite its bad name, it’s a fun concept. Instead of being attached at the neck like a Dog Collar match, they will be attached at the wrist. Kross enters, and we get a preview of Drew’s plans: big kicks and whipping. Scarlett intervenes, of course, with a fireball. I see that’s just what we’re doing when we need a woman to distract someone, especially if she’s creepy.  This isn’t enough to stop Drew, but a low blow works. I enjoyed it up until Scarlett’s intervention. Not because she intervened, but because it was disjointed. The fireball has been used, but even if that’s what we’re going for, the low blow felt childish and not the vibe they seem to be going for. 

We don't get very far into the match before shots Shotzi shows up to intervene. Raquel takes advantage of the distraction and gets the quick pin in. So a short match, which is especially disappointing in the women's division, but I don't mind how they did it this time as much as I usually do. It made sense and allows Shotzi to officially fill the spot of the injured Aliyah.  

The Usos vs The Brawling Brutes

I honestly forgot this match happened for a bit. It was another good but predictable match. It’s Interference city, with Sheamus and the Bloodline at ringside. At one point, Sami got a chair after frantically looking for something to help his new cousins just to be stopped by Sheamus which made for a very funny moment. The biggest problem? Imperium’s intervention. I didn't like it, but I am very biased here. I was hoping this could be a big moment for the Brutes, but Usos still retain.

[golden-pickaxe]

Coffee (Part 5)

Fandom: Vikings

Paring: Ivar x Reader

Type: Modern AU, Office AU

Wordcount: 3619

Warnings: reader drinks wine casually

[Coffee - All Parts Here]

A/N: Here is part 5!

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius​ @punkrocknpearls @mootiemoose​ @istorkyou @dini73​ @heavenly1927​ @hashimily​ @peakywitch​

Summary: You are a graduate student at the University of Oslo, and have applied for a job as a personal assistant at the Lothbrok Corporation, without really knowing much of the position advertised. When it turns out you are going to work for the (in)famous Ivar Lothbrok, your whole life is turned up-side-down.

With Ivar just wearing a t-shirt, instead of his usual well-cut suits, you could very clearly see the strong muscles in his arms, as you watched him pushing his wheelchair out of the pedestrian zone, towards the street. You had to swallow at the sight, hating yourself for the effect this man had on you.

 You walked along side him, finally realising what you had done. Just like a year ago, when the coin had dropped that you had really applied at the Lothbrok Corporation, it now dropped that you had just accepted his invitation to come to his home and let him cook for you. Him, one of the most influential businessmen of Norway. With his own fucking Wikipedia site.

Your heart was pounding rapidly in your chest at the thought, and you bit your lower lip, not quite knowing what this whole thing would mean now. And if it would change anything between you. You hoped not, but in the same way, you did hope.

 Getting your private life mixed up with your job probably was not a good idea. On the other hand, this whole situation kind of freaked you out, but in a good way. It was exciting.

 You and Ivar had reached the street, next to the national gallery, where a few minutes later the taxi arrived. Personally, you would never get a taxi in Oslo, as it was just insanely expensive, but with a lot of public transport, such as the tram you had taken to get here, not entirely being accessible to someone in a wheelchair, you could understand why Ivar had called it.

 Ivar maneuverered himself into one of the back seats, while the driver put his chair into the trunk of the car. You felt Ivar’s blue eyes watching you, as you rounded the vehicle to get into at the other side.

Even though he always successfully overplayed it, you saw that he was a bit self-conscious about his legs, often cursing them underneath his breath when they once again got into his way. He could move them a little bit, and also seemed to have some feeling in them, was even able to stand up for a few moments, if he could support himself with his arms. But in general, they did not really seem to be working.

In the office, Ivar hated to use his wheelchair, often just dragging himself from his desk to his sofa, his immense upper body strength enabling him to pull himself up with not much of an issue.

 Now, sitting next to you in the taxi on the way to his apartment, he readjusted his legs a bit with tight lips, appearing a bit nervous once more. You still could not quite wrap your head around what was happening right now, it all felt a bit like a dream to you. Just so, you managed to resist the urge to pinch yourself.

 Your boss, your grumpy boss, the infamous Ivar Lothbrok had just casually invited you to go out for coffee with him, had questioned you about almost every aspect of your life, paid for your drink, and now took you to his home to cook for you. It almost sounded like a very bad rom-com, like a romance story some bored, lonely woman would think up. Not that you expected it to end that way, of course. Even if you honestly wished it would.

 Until now, even if you sometimes chatted on business trips, your relationship had been purely professional, and you had only been over to his flat once, when you had brought him a set of suits to his home, when there had been issues with his dry cleaner. It had not really surprised you, finding out that he also lived in Majorstuen, actually not very far from you, although it had been a stress factor for you. Of course, he did not live in one of the old buildings, like you did, with paper thin walls, no elevator and wonky doors, no. He lived on the top floor of one of those new, fancy apartment buildings, costing a few ten-million krona, overlooking Frognerparken.

 When you had brought the suits up to his apartment, you had also met a famous Norwegian actor in the lift, so it was clear what kind of people occupied the other flats of the building. You had never been inside his home, had only delivered his suits to his door, but even the entrance and the lift had been very fancy and expensive looking. Admittedly, you had taken a stupid selfie in the mirror of the lift and posted it to Instagram.

 As Aker Brygge was, as stated, not far from Majorstuen, the drive was quite short, and the few minutes of silence were only broken by far too relaxing music coming out of the car radio. The taxi stopped in front of the apartment building Ivar lived in, and he paid the driver, while you got out, retrieving Ivar’s wheelchair from the trunk. You set it up and positioned it next to the car, for him to climb into.

 Ivar clenched his jaw a bit, obviously annoyed at something, even though you were not quite sure what exactly it was that he was annoyed by now, only hoping that it was not you. Well, at least you would have not far home now.

Ivar climbed out of the car, moving himself over to sit in his chair, before unlocking the breaks and rolling towards the door of the building, while the taxi behind you departed.

 Just as you remembered, the entry hall of the apartment complex was very posh, and you were reminded that this was a completely different world from yours. A different world from your shitty apartment, where you could hear almost every conversation your neighbours were having, and where you had push your full body against the bathroom door to get it to close properly.

 Following Ivar to the lift, the two of you got in, and Ivar pressed the button of the top floor. As soon as the doors had closed, Ivar’s eyes were on you, mustering you intently. His gaze was a tad intimidating, you had to admit, once again looking like a predator looking at his prey. Still, you managed to look back with a smile.

 “Are there any things you don’t eat, before I work my magic?” he asked, a smirk on his handsome face. You had to laugh at his choice of words, but told him about any dietary restrictions or things you didn’t like, and Ivar nodded.

 “Alright. I think I know what to make, then.” He leaned back in his chair a bit, biting how lower lip, a move that made your knees feel very weak.

 “Thank you.” It came out of your mouth, earning a very surprised expression from Ivar.

 “What for?” he asked honestly a bit confused, tilting his head at you.

 “For the coffee. And for inviting me over, and for cooking.” You studied his face, hoping to find something there, something that would give up his intentions, something revealing why he was doing this. You just needed to know, needed to know if you could get your hopes up or not. Was this really just a social call because you had been working for him for a year now, or was it something else?

 “Thank me after you’ve tasted my glorious food! Then I will gladly accept your thanks.” Ivar winked, and the elevator doors opened. Ivar left the lift, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he stopped at his front door.

 His flat was the only flat up here, and you guessed it had to be gigantic, covering the whole top floor. You were sure, his flat probably also had a roof terrace.

 You had to admit, this was another thing you found kind of intimidating about this man. The sheer amount of wealth he had, the wealth his family had. While you lived in a flat share with an old kitchen and horrible, tiny bathroom, with just a wet room and not even a proper shower, he lived in this extremely modern, borderline futuristic building, overlooking Oslo.

 Ivar opened the door, and pushed himself into the flat, with you following close behind, walking past him before he closed the door again behind you.

 Obviously you had imagined this place to be huge and expensive, but what you were seeing in front of your eyes was just.. something else.

It was less of a normal flat, and more of a large loft, most of the rooms merged into one big space. There was, similar to his office, a gigantic glass front overlooking the famous park, and West Oslo. The sun was still in the sky, the sunset not being for another one and a half hours or so.

 In the centre of the room was a big, beautiful white sofa, the kind where one could just stretch out like a starfish and not fall down. In front of it was a coffee table made out of driftwood and glass, the dark wood in stark contrast with the sofa. On the right of it were large, metal, urban looking bookshelves, filled with many thick books, some leather bound and old looking, dividing the living area from the ‘bedroom’, and there were a few doors opposite of the windows, that seemed to lead into extra rooms, probably the bathroom and other rooms.

 Behind the bookshelf you could see a large bed at the wall, so large in fact that you were sure that it could comfortably fit three to four fully grown people. It was covered and surrounded in white and grey furs, sheep and reindeer as far as you could tell from the distance. Furs also covered parts of the marble floor of the flat.

 There were many more furs on and in front of the sofa, and in general it seemed that grey, white and black, together with different shades of brown were the only colours in the whole apartment, making it look very sophisticated.

 On the left-hand side was a giant, very modern kitchen, seemingly equipped with everything a cook could wish for, with a large kitchen isle and a big table in front of it, a rustic looking piece of furniture, made of wood and carved with beautiful knot patterns, probably hand made by a very skilled Scandinavian carpenter knowing a lot about medieval woodcarving.

 The kitchen itself, you noticed, was lower than what you were used to, and while it confused you for a moment, you quickly realised that it was built so that Ivar could easily reach everything from his wheelchair, without having to get any help.

 “Welcome to my humble home.” You heard Ivar’s voice behind you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You swallowed and turned to him, looking at him as he watched you with a knowing smile on his lips.

 You could not hold back a laugh.

“Humble?” you simply asked, slipping out of your shoes and walking further into the big room, looking around.

 The whole flat was modern and elegant, yet had such a rustic and clearly Scandinavian aesthetic, it was truly impressive. Whoever was the interior designer, was truly a genius, and showed an amazing appreciation for medieval Scandinavian design. Similar works you had only seen in the Folksmuseet in Bygdøy.

 The walls that were not made out of glass were covered in picture frames, displaying either old Viking artwork or photographs of Norway and Iceland, of runestones and old temples. Somehow, it fitted in perfectly with the rest of the decoration.

 There was a door in the glass front of the flat, leading out, just as you had assumed, onto a large roof top terrace, furnished with even more rustic, wooden, and probably handmade tables and chairs, and, as cliché as it sounded, a beautiful hot tub. It was built into a frame, reminding you of a Viking ship, with a set of carved stairs leading up to it, probably so that Ivar had an easier time to get in and out of it, without requiring any help.

 “Alright, I admit, not so humble.” Ivar chuckled. “It was a present from my father when I started to officially work in the company. He had his friend Floki and his wife Helga design and build this whole thing.”

 That made you turn around to him once more. You knew these names.

“The Floki and Helga?” you swallowed.

 Floki and Helga were very, very famous, highly awarded architects and designers, often hired to design important landmarks and museums. Houses planned by them costing up to a hundred million kronas. They were famous for being able to combine the traditional aesthetics of their ancestors with the modern designs of this century, creating masterpieces that were rewarded all over the world. Now, looking around Ivar’s loft once more, it seemed obvious that this was their handy work.

 “Yes, The Floki and Helga.” Ivar chuckled. “The two of them almost raised me when I was a kid. With my parents busy all the time and me being bound to.. this.” He gestured at is chair. “Floki made all the wooden furniture himself. I am very lucky.”

 “Indeed you are.” You shook your head, unable to believe what you had just heard.

 Obviously, he had been raised by the two of them. Obviously, they had made his home for him, being like family to him, and being friends of his father, the most powerful businessman in Norway, and probably even all of Europe.

By now, you wouldn’t even question, if Ivar casually told you that he was descended from Odin.

 Ivar just shrugged at your words, although the expression on his face was a mixture of amused and pride. He bent down to slip out of his shoes, before moving his wheelchair over to a spot next to the door, where another wheelchair was waiting for him, this one looking a bit different, similar to the ones used by disabled athletes. Easier to navigate and probably a bit more comfortable. Ivar heaved himself up from his chair, navigating himself into the other one, a sigh leaving his lips.

 “I don’t fancy the dirt from the streets in my home.” He explained at your confused face, before he pushed himself towards you.

Oh yes, that made sense. Just as both of you had taken off your shoes, it would only be logical for him to also ‘change wheels’.

 A faint smile was on his lips, as he looked up and into your face, his expression soft and open, something you were not quite used to from him. His body language was relaxed too, his arms simply resting in his lap, as his head was once again tilted slightly.

He was truly a beautiful man, you had to admit. It was difficult to ignore, and sometimes you caught yourself staring in meetings, hoping that no one had noticed how your eyes had been practically glued to your boss. Solveig had made fun of you even more, when you had told her about it.

 “I think I’m going to start to cook now, before we starve to death. So, sit down, get comfortable.” He winked at you, before moving his chair towards the kitchen, in the process letting the wheelchair roll a bit, while he pulled his long hair into a tight bun at the back of his head. “Or would you like to help?” he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow, looking at you from underneath his long eyelashes. You had to swallow.

 “Well, I am still your personal assistant. So, I will assist you.” You smiled, following him into the kitchen. You hoped that reminding yourself that you were still his employee would calm your nerves.

 “I had hoped you’d say that, dove.” There it was again, that nickname. Your nerves were certainly not calm now.

 Ivar started to pull out pans and a cutting board, gesturing at the fridge for you to take out certain ingredients and washing them in the sink.

 You were not entirely sure what he was going to make, but you were positively surprised that his fridge and his whole pantry was stocked very well. You had to admit, you had taken him for one of those bachelors who had never touched their kitchen in their lives, and with all the money they had always ate out.

 But, as Ivar casually explained while you were preparing food, he enjoyed cooking for himself, and did so almost every evening.

While you were washing some vegetables, and he was skilfully cutting up an onion, he casually told you about the cooking schools he had visited when he was younger, and about the occasional dinner parties he threw for his close friends and family, where he cooked up five course meals for them all by himself. He moved around his kitchen as if he knew every millimetre of it, knowing the layout like the back of his hand.

 You enjoyed this far too much. You rarely saw Ivar this casual, only on business trips when he was not in the mood to talk about work anymore. And though you did not like to admit it, you were keen to know more about his personal life, to know more about the man behind the name Lothbrok.

 It was nice to see him here, in his home. He seemed so at ease, so open, the usual anger and annoyance he often seemed to carry around with himself in day-to-day life completely absent in this moment. This was his space, where he did not have to worry, to think about what upset him.

 This flat truly seemed to be his place, and his place alone. His kingdom far from the influence of other people. Here he was himself, independent of everyone else, everything built in a way that he did not need help from other people.

 Whatever else would come of tonight, you were just happy that you could witness this. You would see Ivar differently now, you knew. And would probably fall even more for him.

 You noticed it getting a bit darker out, and a quick look at your phone told you that it was already half past nine PM. It had not seemed that long, getting to Ivar’s home and starting to cook, as you had not even finished the preparation for cooking yet, but frankly, you didn’t even mind. The setting sun tinted the whole apartment in a magical, golden light, making it look even more beautiful and magical. Ivar’s face turned away from his work for a moment, his blue eyes wandering over the horizon, where the sky was slowly tinted in orange, pink and purple. A faint smile appeared on his face, before he returned his attention to the food.

 Absently minded you put your phone on the kitchen isle, before you grabbed a jar of mixed spices, which Ivar had instructed you to get for him while he was still cutting up vegetables. You read the label, not surprised that he had not purchased them in Norway, but in Spain, turning around, eyes still on the jar. Thus, you only noticed too late that Ivar was right behind you, his chair almost inaudible on the marble floor.

 With a slightly embarrassing yelp escaping your throat, you lost balance, tripping over Ivar’s wheelchair, falling over and landing straight in his lap. His strong arms were suddenly around you to keep you from completely falling to the floor, and your face probably had taken on a crimson shade.

 “Careful there, dove. I’m usually not that hard to miss.” He smirked, to your surprise not even remotely angry with you.

 You had once, in your third month at the Lothbrok Corporation, seen a small clerk run into him in the office, who had been a bit late and had not really paid attention. After Ivar had yelled at him for good twenty minutes, he had never been heard of again.

 “Gods, I’m so sorry, I..” but you stopped, swallowing, not knowing what to say. You tried to get up, the jar of spices still in your hand, but Ivar’s strong grip around you firmly held you in place.

 The man tilted his head, eye flickering to the glass container you were holding. He let go of you with one of his arms, while the other one was still around you, taking the jar from your hands and placing it on the counter next to him. His blue eyes mustered you once more. Your heart was pounding. In the light of the setting sun he looked even more handsome than he had already.

 “I have told you, that you look good today, right?” he asked, his voice low. His hand had returned to hold you again, and you noticed his fingers carefully caressing your back, which sent a shiver up your spine.

 Your mind was racing, as was your heart.

You could not but stare into his piercing blue eyes, not sure what to say, how to respond to him right now, or if you should say anything at all. You were unable to think even one coherent thought, as you felt his strong arms around you, his firm body below you, and his hot breath against you skin.. wait. When had he gotten this close to you?

 Before you could really comprehend what was happening, you suddenly felt Ivar’s lips against yours, not firm, but soft, almost shily moving against yours. In that moment, it was as if your mind just gave up, and turned itself off.

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (3)

(c!technoblade x fem!reader)

(some people liked chapter 2 so here’s chapter 3. whether or not there’s a chapter 4 is dependent on if this one gets any comments/reblogs.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re not exactly sure when your plans for a house shifted from ‘maybe a two story house’ into ‘some kinda roman temple/shrine type building’ instead. 

Probably after the third time you had to tear down what you were building because it just didn’t look right. You’d initially not been able to go anywhere with the white quartz (you’d made a base but it looked stupid so you’d tossed it) so you’d switched it with a birch wood. That was where the problems started. First you’d tried your hand at making a cute little cottagecore house, but it just didn’t look cute to you and instead came out kinda frumpy? So you scrapped it, even though it pained you. 

“Hours wasted.”

Then you tried making another house, this one taller and with dark wood. But it ended up looking like some kind of Viking home, no matter how much you tweaked it, which totally clashed with the vibrant floral scenery around you. It would work better in a snowy biome. So you’d scrapped that one too, none too happy either.

“Why do I suck?”

Then you’d tried your hand at making a cute mushroom house! But…. it was awful. No matter what you did it just didn’t look right?? You tried making the stem ‘natural’ like it would look in minecraft but then it looked too artificial to you. Then you tried making it look more normal but then it just ended up looking wonky. Long story short.. you hated it. You scrapped it, maybe a little more angry than the previous two times. That was when you’d gone back to the white quartz blocks.

And you started with a huge square, then that sorta morphed into a circle. Or as ‘circular’ as this world’s building blocks could get. Then it just sorta.. went from there? Before you knew it you had a circular white temple/shrine with a domed and tiered ceiling and four tall stained glass windows with star and sky designs. You’d gotten into the construction as it had begun to be more fun. You’d even hung lanterns by chains from the ceiling in symmetrical points and it gave the whole place a nice vibe you think. Especially when it started raining outside.

Once it was all done to your satisfaction you just sat in the middle of the quartz floor and gazed up at the gently swaying lanterns. You’re glad you’d ended up with this place, it looks pretty and has a calm vibe you can resonate with. 

It would be dawn soon so you decided since you were done you’d go to bed since you had nothing else to do at the moment. Or well that had been the plan until you placed down your bed and couldn’t help but notice how utterly ridiculous a single bed in the corner of this huge temple looked. It actually made you snort before deciding then and there you needed a bed that somewhat matched the temple aesthetic you guessed you were going for now.

-0-

You ended up making this huge canopy bed with curtains and a platform you had to walk up a step to get to the three beds you’d put on it to look right. Under normal circumstances you’d not like such an overly lavish bed but it certainly fit the almost regal aesthetic your new temple home had. Which was just fine you supposed, it’s not like you were opposed to it. Just not what you’d planned to do from the get go.

Only problem now was.. the place still looked weirdly empty of life. Like one of those barren ‘minimalism’ nightmare homes rich people get off to. So you went through the inventory and started looking for stuff to decorate with. On the wall to the left of the entrance you set up an area for a brewing stand and cauldron as well as an ender chest, mostly just because it looked cool with the purple particles. You also hung up some item frames on the wall by the quartz counters you set up and picked out a bunch of pretty colored potions to hang in them.

Then on the opposite wall you made a little library with an alcove in the middle for an enchantment table. With a lantern on top of the bookshelf next to the crafting table and clay pots of flowers on the uppermost bookshelves to give the area a nicer look. You even added some fluffy carpet in front of the area to enhance the comfiness. And when you went over to the front door and then turned to look at the whole space you smiled because it really did look good. Larger than you’d intended, sure, but also very comfy now too.

You think you’re done with the inside until you look up at the bare walls between the stained glass windows. They were a little… naked. So you tried hanging up some paintings but… they looked terrible. The ‘round’ angle of the windows kept the options for what paintings you could put up pretty narrow. So you forgot that idea and instead tried putting up item frames! But you put some up and disliked it almost immediately. It felt way too busy so you got rid of those too. 

You were getting tired of decorating so you just grabbed a random banner (purple because why not?) and then you grabbed a handful of different colored dyes before pulling out a loom. You tried a bunch of different designs, threw out most of them because they either ended up with ugly clashing colors or looking way too busy. But you finally settled on one that was a purple banner with an orange gradient coming up from the bottom and finally a gold sun right in the middle. It looked very pretty, like a sunset!

Once you were happy you hung a couple inside then on a whim you even hung a couple outside your door on either side. It made the outside look prettier in your opinion so once you were done (for real this time) you went and just flopped into bed, not feeling more than a touch tired but with nothing else to do at the moment. So you snuggled into your big cozy bed and drifted off to sleep~

-0-

Days passed since you built your home and you kept up work around the village, planting bamboo and berry bushes in a wall around it in a circle as a form of defense against the Illagers. They were kinda jerks and seemed to only want to kill villagers. Which wasn’t cool. And yeah you could have dug a moat or pit around it instead you guessed but you didn’t want any of the villagers falling in and you felt like they would… 

So a wall of bamboo and prickly berry bushes it was. And it works! And looks dope. So win/win.

And it was as you were on your way to put some lights at the bottoms of the ponds and rivers that you noticed it from the corner of your eye. One of your sunset banners! But it was hanging up outside of the weaponsmith’s place instead of on your temple home where you knew you left it. But then you noticed another one hanging up outside the stonemason’s workshop…

You look over at your home up on the hill and see your banners still in place. And you know none of them trudged all the way up there just to steal one from the inside so you decide to investigate more in the village. And the further you walk in the more banners with your pattern on them you see. Actually every building you pass has at least one hung up somewhere near the door. You blinked before chuckling a little and thinking to yourself,

‘Oh! They all must have seen the banner I made and liked it! So they made their own to hang up. That’s actually pretty cute. I’m glad they like it.’

You were blissfully ignorant to the fact that the villagers have started to see you as their saint of sorts. Their goddess of prosperity and kindness. Without whom they would still be lost and living in pathetic huts and with no drive to acquire a skill and better themselves. They honestly look back on those times as such a dark period of their lives. When they were ignorant of their own abilities without your blessing to guide them. They owed you their lives and they wanted to show their thanks to you.

So when they saw you put up your sunset banners on your temple they quickly went to the shepherd and asked him to make them some just like it! And the shepherd, with his skill being a master thanks to your wonderful trading help, was easily able to craft such banners. Every villager had at least one by the time the sun was going down, all of them proudly being hung on the outsides of their homes and work buildings to show their allegiance to you!

But it wouldn’t stop there. The villagers wanted to give back even a fraction of what you have given to them.

-0-

In the following weeks you definitely noticed the villagers acting… odd. It started small at first, with them each coming to you and giving you gifts. The shepherd gave you a pair of blankets that were beautifully crocheted with this fluffy wool yarn, one that’d been dyed a soft baby pink while the other was a soothing sea foam color. You thanked him with a smile three times over and he seemed endlessly happy you liked them. You took them home and laid them across your bed and liked the pop of color they provided your space.

Though after that the farmer and leatherworker both met you at the entrance to your temple and each gifted you some things they thought you’d like. The farmer happily handed over a full basket of freshly baked bread along with another basket containing a bushel of golden carrots and almost a full melon’s worth of glistering melon slices. While the leatherworker offered up a pair of dainty leather sandals that looked like they would lace up your legs to just below your knees. And also what looked like a prettily crafted leather utility belt! It had lotus details and golden studs and buckles on the front and back. And one large pocket, one medium zipper pocket, and two smaller pockets. You loved all of their gifts and thanked them both over and over while safely putting the food away (and maybe eating some bread right then) and putting the slippers and belt on. 

You were beyond grateful and thought that was the end of that.

You… were wrong.

-0-

As the days turned into weeks you were lavished with more and more offerings. It took you a while to realize that’s what they were; offerings. You got a little uncomfortable with all the gifts after a bit but when you started to refuse them the villagers looked so sad so you began to accept them again. Especially after they tried to make ‘better’ stuff for you after your initial refusal, under the impression the last ones weren’t good enough for you or something. It started to get hard to take in all the gifts, because sometimes you weren’t available in the village (you still liked to explore) or because you were working on something and they couldn’t reach you. So as a solution you set up a double chest outside your temple for them to put the gifts in. 

They eagerly adapted to that and each night you’d clean out the chest, putting away practical gifts and discreetly getting rid of ones you had WAY too many of. Like the food. You had a full double chest of food and you didn’t need anymore, but saying so would probably hurt their feelings. So this was the easiest way. Plus a lot of the gifts you actually DID like. Like the sandals, hip pocket belt, and the pretty white dress you were currently wearing. The under part of it was just a simple white sleeveless mini dress that went above your knees (you’re not sure it was that shirt when you first tried it on..) and the over part of the dress was a sheer white maxi dress with loose ruffled sleeved that hung off your shoulders, and a slit on each side that helped with ease of movement.

You’d taken to wearing the dress, the hip pocket belt, and sandals every day. They were all comfortable and looked pretty good on you now that you think about it. Not to mention the fabric was light and breathable too, which helped keep you from getting too hot. You’re not sure what kind of fabric it’s made of, but whatever it is it’s light enough to not make you sweat but it’s also heavy enough to keep you from getting cold when it’s windy. Regardless, it’s your go-to outfit these days.

But aside from the offerings and stuff, you had to sit down and really examine your current position. You really took the time to pay attention to how the villagers were treating you. And you eventually came to the conclusion that they were treating you like some kind of saint or deity. They gave you the best of their wares as offerings, they took on your banner as their own (presumably as a show of loyalty), and they almost seemed to worship the ground you walked on. This isn’t even mentioning the statues that they’d put up of you… Like, they were good! Very well done and made of polished white quartz but.. it was still strange. Though like everything else you can’t say you weren’t getting used to it all.

You sighed and rolled with it. 

-0-

You realized one day you’d never been to the Nether. And you wondered if the rules here (like mobs not bothering you) was also true there? You couldn’t deny you were sorta excited to go see, but also scared. You HATED the freaking Hoglins when you played Minecraft before this place. They were always so aggressive and you can’t count how many times they’d killed you, the bastards. But your curiosity won out over your anxiety so you grabbed the enchanted diamond pickaxe you’d been given and then paused while grabbing a stack of gold bars.

“Wait I need to wear gold right? Or the Piglins will be all mad,” you said as you grabbed a gold helmet from your inventory.

You thoughtlessly went to put it on but jerked the helmet back when it clanged against something hard. Something hard that made you wince as a small shock of pain went through your skull. A curse left your lips as you asked out loud what the fuck THAT was about. You were in the middle of trying to come up with an explanation when you reached up with your free hand and flinched when it came into contact with something on your head. Something that 200% was NOT your hair or skull. Panic bubbled inside you and your stomach sank into your feet as you whipped the gold helmet up to look into its polished surface to see yourself.

Horns? Little blunt horns… On your head. 

With a shaky hand you reached up, sort of hoping this was just a dream. But when your fingertips brushed against the soft velvety texture of the horns your breathing grew faster and you pulled your hand away like you’d been burned. You dropped the helmet, not even hearing it clatter against the floor as you stumbled back, nearly tripping over the step that led up to the platform your bed was on, but you somehow managed to get to the bed and sit down.

Before you knew it you’d burst into tears and buried your face into your hands, sobbing and unable to cope with this new fuckery. 

You’ve had to deal with so much weird insane shit since ending up here, wherever the fuck HERE was. You were honestly so tired. You’ve done your best to stay calm, stay sane, and just keep going. And for the most part you have! You focused on surviving, building, and dealing with the villagers. You’d probably feel silly for breaking down over some dumb horns later, especially after you’d barely batted an eye over your weird ears, teeth, and EYES. But the breakdown was probably more to do with life deciding to give you another slice of bullshit despite your overflowing plate. At least that’s what the logical part of your mind was thinking.

But the illogical part, the emotional part, was just so done. So you cried and cried and cried your very soul out until no sound was leaving you anymore. And then, once you were cried out and exhausted you weakly crawled onto the pillows and just passed out. 

You’d deal with this new shit later.

-0-

Far on the outskirts of the opposite side of the village from your temple a young boy with golden hair stumbled across the entrance to said village. 

He’d never seen this village before and was curious. He’d have gladly stormed in and started going through villager chests for loot but it was getting close to dusk and his older brother said he needed to get back asap. Now usually he’d shrug off his brother’s bossy nature but he’d sounded worried so he decided to hurry and get back before it got too late.

But before he turned and left he marked down this village’s coordinates so he could get back to it later..

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

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[i-need-entertainment]

Haikyuu!! Boys getting accidentally flashed by their girlfriend

Characters: Akaashi, Washio, Konoha, Kita, Suna, Ushijima, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Futakuchi and Daishou

TW- second hand embarrassment, flashing someone, mentions of cleavage and underwear.

Akaashi Keiji:

You knew he was coming over today, you just forgot..that he....was coming over today....

In all fairness, you tried to look at least a little presentable, but after you threw on some sweatpants and a sports bra, you kind of got distracted?

And seeing as at the moment it was just you, chilling around in a sports bra didn’t seem like that big of a deal.

Which is why when you heard a soft knock at your door and your name being called by your boyfriend, you didn’t hesitate to say ‘come in’, not realizing your mistake until he walked in. 

As soon as you saw his eyes widen and the tips of his ears turn red, you remembered not finishing getting dressed.

Being the gentleman he is he promptly turned around and let you put a shirt on.

I’m sure you’ll laugh about it someday but until then...suffer lol.

Washio Tatsuki: 

You had been invited to the beach with your boyfriend’s high school volleyball team, Fukurodani.

Seeing as they are a volleyball team, they decided to play a game of beach volleyball, you and the two managers were of course included.

Everything was going great. Your team was winning, Bokuto hadn’t gone into an emo mode, and everyone was having fun.

Everything was perfect until a wonky spike made by Konoha went a little further than you had anticipated, causing you to drive for it.

Surprising even yourself, you successfully got the ball up. But as soon as you stood up, Washio pulled you into a tight hug, looking up to him from your place at his chest you were met with the reddest face you’ve ever seen from your boyfriend.

We’re talking redder than when he asked you to be his girlfriend red.

You asked him ‘What?’ and he said in a small voice, ‘your top came off’.

Looking down, you indeed realized that your top had come completely off, but thanks to your boyfriend’s quick reflex’s, no one other than you and poor, poor Washio saw anything.

Continuing to shield you from your friends, he quickly picked up your top, dusted it off and handed it to you, turning around so you could put it on, and tying it so you both could be sure it wouldn’t come undone again.

Konoha Akinori: 

You and your boyfriend had been hanging out at your house during the summer.

It had become increasingly hotter throughout the day, so you ran up to your room to change into something a bit cooler. You didn’t think anything of it when you chose a comfortable tank top to wear, figuring you were at home anyways so it didn’t matter.

You of course missed the slight widening of your boyfriends eyes when you came downstairs. 

You two were just chilling at the table drinking some iced tea, scrolling on your phones and what not, when you leaned down onto your elbows.

The tank top you were wearing was less than helpful, because along with you leaning forward, your top was cut quite low.

Fortunately you caught it pretty quickly and of course apologized to your boyfriend. He muttered a ‘it’s fine’ before awkwardly laughing and moving on, leaning down so his hair could hide just how pink his cheeks had gotten.

Little do the two of you know how long that will haunt both of you.

Kita Shinsuke: 

The two of you were on a date, you guys had just gotten out of the movies and were talking and walking around the nearby park.

The two of you were walking hand in hand, just enjoying being in each other’s presence really.

You were just about to tell him something when the wind picked up, picking your skirt up along with it.

You of course were quick to grab the hem of your skirt to tug it back down, but the damage had already been done.

He had been looking at you waiting for you to speak when your skirt had lifted. Giving him a...view. You were quick to apologize, and so was he. He assured you he didn’t see anything....but the thing was level with your waist so you know he did, he’s just too much of gentleman to embarrass you further.

Suna Rintaro: 

Every morning, one of the first things you do is send your boyfriend a ‘good morning’ snap.

It was a normal, everyday thing, so you didn’t think much of it when you sent the first picture you took. 

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t look back at the picture you had taken.

About five minutes later you received a snap back from your boyfriend.

It was a picture with his hand over his eyes and a caption that said ‘look down’, and after doing so and realizing the shirt you had slept in had slipped down, you were quick to send back another picture (this time with a fixed top) apologizing.

Him being the chill guy he is let it go, but it did end up being quite the wake up for both of you.

Ushjima Wakatoshi: 

You had expressed to your boyfriend that you had wanted to start exercising more, and with him being the fitness buff he is, he was more than happy to help.

The two of you were working out at your house, just a simple warm up and some lighter exercises so you could get used to it.

You got into a plank position and got started, or did your best, him being the great boyfriend he is encouraged you and kept his mouth shut.

Well, about the pushups anyways. Not long after you had started he had leaned over and pulled your top further down your back, telling you it was showing your chest as he leaned back like nothing had happened.

Realization kicked in not long after for you, realizing that not only had you flashed your boyfriend, but he had nonchalantly fixed your top for you like nothing had happened at all.

Then again, that’s only because you were too focused on your own embarrassment to notice the light pink dusting his face.

Yahaba Shigeru: 

Every morning Yahaba picked you up for school and the two of you drove together.

And seeing as it was now in the warmer months of the school year, you no longer had to wear tights and could now just wear the skirt.

When you guys got to the school Yahaba exited the car and made his way to your door to open it like he did every morning.

And after months of not having to worry about showing anything you had swung your legs out of the car like you had in the winter.

Except that now there were no tights to stop from showing your underwear off when your skirt had lifted, giving an unintentional ‘show’ to your chivalrous, albeit now red, boyfriend.

You now wear shorts under your skirt.

Iwaizumi Hajime: 

You had a habit of taking your boyfriend’s clothes, his sweatshirts being your favorite item of his to leech.

Currently you were wearing a gray hoodie he had bought recently, but let you borrow since he knows how much you like wearing them.

Usually he has no problem with you wearing his stuff, but for this particular look, he just so happened to need the one you were currently wearing.

He asked for it, and you being the benevolent girlfriend you are, gladly gave it to him.

Er, you tried to, you had a little trouble getting it over your head. In other words, you were stuck.

Calling for help from your beefy boyfriend you tried once again to get it off.

Iwaizumi, being the benevolent boyfriend he is, tried to help you untangle yourself from the sweatshirt. Only to be flashed when you finally got it off your head.

The particular sweatshirt you were wearing was a bit of a tighter fit, and it caught the sleeves of your shirt juuust right to where when you two finally got it off, it took your shirt along with it.

Iwaizumi froze before picking up another sweatshirt of his and shoving it over your head, mumbling things before he stopped when he heard your laugh mixed with apologies.

He now makes sure to ask for his sweatshirts in advance.

Futakuchi Kenji: 

The two of you had decided to get something to eat after school since Futakuchi didn’t have practice and your afternoon was free as well.

For the entirety of the school day, your uniform top has been giving you issues.

When you initially got your uniform it had come in a size too small, so you of course got another one, but yesterday you had spilled something on your shirt and needed a replacement.

It still fit well enough, it was just a tad bit too snug in some areas.

Specifically your chest.

The two of you had sat down, waiting for your order to be called when you noticed your boyfriend had gone uncharacteristically quiet.

You looked at him and he just nodded down to your shirt before whispering that ‘you’re button came undone’.

You were of course quick to button it back up and were about to apologize when he hushed you, choosing to instead place his blazer over your shoulders, assuring you that it was fine and ‘you just need to pay more attention dummy’ and some other witty remarks.

Although it was very obvious they were made to distract you from the burning red adorning his neck and ears.

Daishou Suguru: 

I know what you’re thinking ‘oH sUrE iT wAs An AcCiDeNt’ BUT IT WAS.

You two have been dating for a while now, so it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to barge into each other’s rooms.

On this specific day, you had just finished taking a shower when he had come over. He was not aware you had just gotten out of the shower and you didn’t know he was there.

You made your way to your room dressed in a bath towel, drying off as you got your clothes and such ready.

You were just about to drop your towel when your bedroom door opened, revealing your boyfriend.

You were quick to tighten your grip on the towel and he was quick to turn around and leave your room, loudly shouting apologies as you yelled his name.

You were able to laugh it off later when he assured you he only saw a bit of your chest, but that doesn’t make up for the utter hUMILIATION you were feeling. And probably will feel for the rest of your life :)

[tumbling-darkling]

You Can’t Punch a Ghost

Ch 4. Everyone wants to fight Danny

AO3

First | Previous | Next

The following week was in most cases… uneventful. Well uneventful in terms of the fact that Danny wasn’t brutally murdered or thrown into ANOTHER dimension. (Imagine what a mess that would end up being, he would have to find a way back to this dimension and THEN the ghost zone.)

It was uneventful during the day in normal terms. He would be dragged out of bed by Aizawa, who really didn’t seem to give a flying fuck about what time it was. Eat a really hearty breakfast (Japan had a full course meal for breakfast and he was getting used to it really fast), then go over typical preparations for being admitted into another dimension’s school almost halfway through the year! Preparations like math and science overviews, recounts of history classes he would have been taught. Quirk specialized classes.

During their first talk, Danny admitted he knew next to nothing about any history of this world, or the more in depth quirk statistics. Even some of the science was wonky in comparison to what he knew. And he knew quite a bit thanks to living in a lab for most of his life. His failing grades back in Amity were only because he had a hard time finding time to study the new subjects, as well as stay awake in class or finish the homework before some asshole ghost burned it up for the 5th time that week. Yet some things were just… different. Mainly biology related subjects. Math was quite linear though. Language Studies? That was another one he had no experience in. He had never even heard of a good chunk of the books listed that he should have read in middle school. If they were like anything he read back at home, then the titles probably wouldn’t help either. And reading was out of the question too. In any language.

Aizawa picked up on his struggle when he placed the paperwork in front of Danny, paperwork he needed to sign in regards to the security of the school. The symbols and lines made no sense to Danny, and after a lot of staring at the paper and Aizawa’s gaze boring holes into his skull, Danny cracked under the pressure. He dropped his head to the table and yelled, ‘I can’t read this!’

There was confusion at first, then Aizawa picked apart what he meant, eventually discovering that Danny didn’t understand the Japanese written language. Then he got this look on his face, a thoughtful and concerned look, like adding a piece to a puzzle but still not knowing the full picture. Danny didn’t really care much for that look.

Aizawa mumbled something about a tutor and then they moved back to getting him prepared for courses he was going to be taking. Boring school talk. Well some of it was interesting but planning it was boring.

Danny had to admit, the nights were a bit more eventful. He had to get a lay of the land. And the city tended to be riddled with crime at night. So every night, Danny snuck out as Phantom and began to map out the area, finding familiar buildings and using them as landmarks as he began to explore every inch of the city he was in. He would come across crime, and while he knew that vigilantism was technically illegal, it was no different than the ecto acts making ghosts basically illegal to exist. So he did a little crime by helping out the heroes at night, it was no big deal. Especially when Danny found out how… easy it was. He could just phase people halfway into walls to keep them from running, his blasts acted as an easy way to knock criminals to the ground, and for once in his life, nobody could touch him.

He never fully realized just how specialized his abilities were in Amity, and how specialized his opponents were. Danny’s opponents needed ridiculously specific weapons and abilities to counter the Halfa on a basic level. Weapons and powers this world didn’t have any clue about. He easily turned intangible to avoid hits and it always worked! The closest anyone was able to track him while invisible was some dude who could see thermal energy. Not everyone in this world could fly as well, and not always as freely as Danny could. Gravity stopped existing for Danny while the few others he did face had to manipulate the air or use wings to fly. He was… ridiculously overpowered in this world.

Well he assumed he was. There was always that nagging feeling that there was something that could mess him up. A surprise he didn’t expect.

So of course he remained on edge while out as Phantom.

While he was wildly overpowered compared to others he’s faced so far, this was a world where a good chunk of the population had powers. So they must have ways to prevent people from using their powers when they were caught after committing crimes or otherwise. There must be at least one person on this planet that may have ecto-related abilities or abilities to cancel out other people’s powers.

Would all of these affect him?

Danny had no fucking clue.

He could very much not be affected just because he was from another world. But he could also be very affected because his powers worked similarly or his body adjusted to this world in a way that would affect him. He just didn’t know.

Better to keep it that way, at least.

So he stopped villains or criminals as he came across them, quickly knocking them out or trapping them to be found and leaving before anyone could notice.

Or so he thought.

It turns out a lot of people are wandering around at night with cameras.

So by the end of the week, his blurry ass glowing face was plastered everywhere.

News headlines of a mysterious vigilante taking out villains faster than pros, disappearing without a trace, his identity a mystery since the pictures were horribly blurry, broken, or even cryptid-like and the only recounts being from people who actually saw him. Even the descriptions of him were not enough to track him down because of his unique and ghostly look, details that no other person held and no records of such an individual seeming to exist. Some headlines questioned his motives, and others pointed out his wide range of abilities. There were even articles about his actions being a hoax. For once in his life, he was grateful for his unphotogenic abilities. At home it was the same, both as human and ghost, any photo of him was a mess, though it was more so for his ghost side. Sometimes he was blurry beyond recognition even if he wasn’t moving at all, his eyes would glow green like a cat at night, sometimes the shadows would curl unnaturally around him or he would have odd features like a faint outline of a glow or even looking like some parts of him were scratched out. In other words, he hated picture day.

So while unrecognizable, he knew it was him they were talking about.

And he quickly picked up that Aizawa wasn’t too happy about this new vigilante, muttering about stupid kids whenever the topic popped up on the news or the bags under his eyes darkening which he picked up the paper with Danny’s blurry face on the front page. One time Aizawa straight up pointed at the TV and said, ‘don’t do that.’

And it took all of Danny’s willpower not to respond with, ‘too late.’

Danny was nowhere close to finding a new portal to get home, or finding out where he arrived in the first place, but he wasn’t having the worst time. And he may get more leads once he starts this school. He wasn’t getting pummeled on a daily basis for once, and his ghost sense hasn’t really gone off yet. Well, other than that one time which he still didn’t fully understand. He was slightly surprised he hadn’t seen a lot of ghosts, yet then again this world didn’t have stable ghost portals. They could be very different ghosts too.

The only thing driving Danny a little crazy was his worry for his home. His friends. His family. Tucker and Sam could handle themselves against ghosts, Val could easily pick up the ghost hunting slack as well. His mom and dad could also easily handle the ghosts on their own. They could handle themselves but at the same time he worried about an unlucky hit, if they got hurt and he wasn’t there to protect them. Or if a powerful ghost took over his town while he was gone. Or how they would all react when they find him missing. Would they think he was kidnapped? Or that he ran away? Would they leave the town to look for him leaving it unprotected and vulnerable or make a big fuss and bring in attention nation wise, would Jazz tell them his secret to convince them to look in the ghost zone would they destroy the ghosts and the zone looking for him? While he couldn’t protect his allies friends family couldn’t protect them he wasn’t there he’s not there why is he not there he’s too far away from home can’t know won’t know protect find save help protect protect protect PROTECT PROTECT PROTECTP̷̧̝͙̲̥̱̻̙͛̓͆́͐̒̓̎̈̾͋̋̕̚̕͜ŗ̴̨̨͔̺̝̤̙͗͆͝ǫ̶̢̛̯͚̬̳͙̳̗̭̅͐̈́̓̋̔͂̊̆͘̕͝͠͝ͅţ̵͍̤̫̩̘̤͖̮̒͊̈̄̎̀́̈́̽͆̑̓̌e̶̢̢̛̤͎̬̣͕͇͙̭̫̥̅̔̏̏̃́c̷̙̪̤͈̫̜̱̫͇͎̖̠̝̥̀̿͑̒́̓̈́̑́͘t̵̨̩̯̺̭̟͉̹̖͈͔̂̌̐̒͌̓̈̉̇̇̊̋̕̕P̷̧̝͙̲̥̱̻̙͛̓͆́͐̒̓̎̈̾͋̋̕̚̕͜ŗ̴̨̨͔̺̝̤̙͗͆͝ǫ̶̢̛̯͚̬̳͙̳̗̭̅͐̈́̓̋̔͂̊̆͘̕͝͠͝ͅţ̵͍̤̫̩̘̤͖̮̒͊̈̄̎̀́̈́̽͆̑̓̌e̶̢̢̛̤͎̬̣͕͇͙̭̫̥̅̔̏̏̃́c̷̙̪̤͈̫̜̱̫͇͎̖̠̝̥̀̿͑̒́̓̈́̑́͘t̵̨̩̯̺̭̟͉̹̖͈͔̂̌̐̒͌̓̈̉̇̇̊̋̕̕

Danny dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to push down the thrumming of his core as it shouted the drowning, possessive thoughts.

It’s been an interesting week. Uneventful but interesting.

It’s also been a very long week.

Now it’s over and he was walking the halls of this school, trailing close to Aizawa and not making eye contact with the other students passing by. They were heading towards the principles office for a finalization of his admission and official meeting. It was only supposed to take a few minutes, quick in and out. Danny didn’t know what to expect of the principal, but he pictured a big and imposing figure, since they ran a top notch hero school.

The pair turned another corner, this school had a lot of corners apparently. They turned it a little too quickly and Danny nearly rammed into another person turning the corner, barely twisting out of the way and only slightly bumped them. His breath misted from his mouth and he froze slightly, looking back at the person, no that had to be a ghost, that he ran into. A yellow suit, too big for the skeletal figure, was what he noticed first, then his eyes glanced up to meet powerful blue ones, hidden in the shadows of the man's hollow features. Fear and horror stared back at Danny, and Danny could only blink in return, he must realize Danny wasn’t entirely alive either…

“Yagi, are you alright?” Aizawa was looking at the ghost- he could see him? And he knew him? Did he know he was a ghost? “You look a little pale.”

“Ah- I’m- I’m fine,” Yagi responded, the ghost's expression changed, looking more bashful. Then Danny began to notice his mistake as he got a longer look at the ghost- no he was a man. His form was solid, not transparent in any way. Only halfa’s were completely solid. There was no glow to him, he didn’t have the same aura. But his ghost sense did detect death. Either this man was on the brink of death, or he had a very serious near-death experience. Those kinds of things tended to confuse his ghost sense from time to time, which was annoying when patrolling for ghosts at first. Then he had later realized the difference in a ghost-ghost sense, and a death detecting ghost sense. Ghost-ghost was chilling, lingering in his throat, while death ghost sense was quick bursts.

His mistake was just because he hadn’t seen a ghost in a while.

But the man's expression when he first saw him… he can’t know. It must have been a mistake of the light or something, those features of his casting shadows to make Danny see things.

“This is Danny, he will be joining some of Class 1-A’s classes since we have space in this remainder of the semester,” Aizawa introduced him. “Danny, this is Mr.Yagi, he’s a secretary of the school, he helps with paperwork and other duties.”

Danny held out his hand to shake then paused, remembering this wasn’t America and people bowed to show politeness instead of shaking hands, but before he could take it back, Mr. Yagi took it and shook it, “Nice to meet you, young Danny. An American transfer student, I’m guessing?” He asked.

Danny blinked in surprise, “how did you-?”

“I once, ah, traveled to America in my youth. I know of some customs, and your name sounds more American than Japanese.”

Danny nodded, and Aizawa took a step forward, “sorry to cut the introduction short but we were heading to Nedzu’s office and need to finalize some paperwork before classes begin.”

Mr. Yagi bowed his head slightly, “yes, of course. I will see you both around, then.”

And then they were both off again, Danny cast a look over his shoulder as they continued on their way, and saw Mr. Yagi watching them walk off, and even jerked a little as he caught Danny’s eye. As soon as he did, he spun around and continued going the opposite direction, though possibly at a quicker rate than most people.

Weird.

Danny was quickly distracted from the interaction as Aizawa led them into a new room, which must be the principal's office.

“You have the paperwork ready?” Aizawa asked.

Danny stared at the big imposing chair, it’s back hiding the figure sitting in it. It spun around, and Danny had to stop himself from reaching out to poke him to see if he was real. He was… some sort of oversized mouse or something. In clothes. His little nose twitched as those beady eyes flicked over to Danny, something about them sending chills down Danny’s spine. “Of course! It’s just one more paper. Honestly you could have done this with the rest of them but I like to hang on to it so I can meet the students first and in person. So this is Danny Fenton? The one you found in a dumpster in an alley?”

“Uh- yes that’s me,” Danny glanced at Aizawa, who was watching the clock. Then back to the principle, maybe he shouldn’t be surprised anymore. He had met two people with animal heads already, so a person who was fully animal shouldn’t be too surprising. The most surprising aspect was just the fact that the principle was… well a mouse.

“Nice to meet you, Fenton, I am Principal Nedzu, I am responsible for all students in these walls and providing them with the best education I can possibly offer. Your short notice transfer was quite an interesting surprise for me, especially given your circumstances. I’m sure Mr. Aizawa has filled you in on the details regarding the transfer. Until we can dig up information about your past or any memories, and to make things much easier in terms of paperwork, you are going to be an American transfer student. This allows you to bypass some entrance exams and keep a lot of questions to a minimum.”

Danny nodded, “yeah, he told me about it.”

“I will also be tasking one of my students in tutoring Danny,” Aizawa stepped in, catching Nedzu’s attention. “We found Danny doesn’t have a lot of experience in writing… or reading in general. The comprehension and knowledge exists, but he can’t read or write Japanese. We both hope this may encourage the return of some memories, while also providing valuable education to both Danny and my student.”

Nedzu nodded, “well seeing as everything is in order, I will let you both go! Be sure to enjoy your first day of classes!”

Danny glanced at Aizawa again but he was already leaving, to which Danny offered a quick farewell to the principal and quickly went to follow Aizawa. Once out of the office he spoke up, “that’s it? Just ‘hello, here’s a quick confirmation, goodbye’?”

Aizawa just shrugged and kept walking, so all Danny could do was follow after him.

—————————————————————

“We have a transfer student joining our class for the remainder of the semester,” Mr. Aizawa stated, stepping aside to reveal a dark haired, blue eyed teen in one of the school's athletic uniforms. “Since we have had a free spot in our class ever since the expulsion of Mineta, Danny Fenton here will temporarily fill that spot. He will join the hero training classes and some other shared classes with Class 1-A, but not all of them. I expect you to treat him like any other class member. Yes, Todoroki,” Mr. Aizawa nodded at Todoroki’s raised hand.

“Is he your son?”

Izuku watched as Fenton sputtered from behind Mr. Aizawa while the teacher didn’t react other than a very slow blink, “no. He is not. If that is all, we will have a very basic training exercise today. One on two duels. This will give you time to share skills you learned during your internship and use them either as team work or to go against unfair odds. As well as will allow myself to assess Fentons quirk. We will follow similar rules to the sports festival, the winner is determined by who is not the first to be knocked out of bounds, knocked out, or prevented from fighting. If facing an opponent from the sports festival, learn from your past mistakes, I expect a better performance from all of you. First up, Danny against Midoriya and Yaoyorozu.”

Kacchan stepped forward with a shout, “hey, why the hell does the nerd get to go first? I want to throw the first fist at the new kid!”

Izuku swore he saw the new kid's eyes flash green at the remark, but it was gone as quick as it appeared, and Izuku began to wonder if it was just the trick of the light.

“You rarely get to pick your opponents in the battlefield, so don’t expect that privilege in this class,” Mr. Aizawa coolly stated, then headed out of the circle, motioning for the rest of the class to follow. “Danny, Midoriya, and Yaoyorozu, take your positions and be ready for my signal.”

The three students did as Mr. Aizawa asked, Izuku and Yaoyorozu took their positions on one side of the circle and Fenton stood opposite, his stance seeming to have shifted from an awkward shyness to a sturdy fighting stance. He must have some training from his previous school. Izuku glanced at Yaoyorozu, “so neither of us know what his quirk can be, and so far it doesn’t seem to be any kind of mutation that I can see. So it’s either a transmitter or emitter type, we also don’t know if he is short range or long range so if I can get close to him fast while you hang behind, I can get him to use his quirk and then maybe you can make something to counter it.”

Yaoyorozu nodded, “sounds like a plan.”

They took a step back and looked over to Fenton, who seemed to be grinning right back at them. There was something so strikingly familiar about him as Izuku now saw the way he held himself, but his face was hard to pinpoint where. But that had to be impossible, he was a transfer student so Izuku would have never met him beforehand. Couldn’t have.

“Start.”

Mr. Aizawa’s dull voice snapped Izuku out of his thoughts, and he reached for One for All’s power, charging up to 5%. Energy sparked around him- but he barely threw himself out of the way of a massive wall of ice that would have trapped him mere seconds beforehand. Izuku felt his mind go a thousand miles a minute as he took in the information.

Ice. Like Todoroki- but not a Todoroki. No red or white hair. American. No relation. How can he use this to his advantage? How can Yaoyorozu help?

Izuku shot a quick look to his partner and spotted her chipping the ice away from her trapped feet with an ice chipper she must have made. He turned his attention back to Fenton as he leapt into the air, using the ice to get higher to get out of his opponent's sight and strike from above.

The ice can be chipped, it was cold as Izuku could see his own breath but not cold enough to make Izuku shiver. They may be able to melt it if Yaoyorozu makes a flamethrower, melt her way towards him while Izuku distracts him.

Izuku lunged forward at lightning speed, aiming a punch for his gut, but jerked as Fenton flicked his head around and met his eyes, playfulness dancing in them just before he stepped out of the way of Izuku’s attack and delivered his own kick into Izuku’s back, sending him rolling to the side and just almost over the out of bounds line. Izuku leapt back off the ground and lunged at Fenton again, feinting to the right and trying to sweep his legs. Izuku jumped back as Fenton slipped, throwing out his arms and slipping slightly and seemed to pause midair for a split second, then he dropped with a grunt and shot a look to Izuku. Izuku was trying to process the weird falling moment and almost failed to dodge another thrown ice attack. More ice spikes like Todoroki’s shooting across the ground and ending in blunt points.

Fenton was still on the ground though, and Izuku ran forward to take advantage, but felt his foot slip and he fell forward, slamming his chin on the ice and hissing as he bit his tongue. Coppery taste flooded his mouth as he tried to get a grip on the ground, but in his struggle Fenton had extended the ice to cover his hands and legs, reaching up to his neck. It was then that he finally stood up and casually walked over to Izuku like the ice wasn’t slippery at all. Even Todoroki had a hard time on the ice he created. “That was a lot quicker than I expected,” Fenton grinned. “Does this mean I win?”

Izuku shattered through the ice using One for All’s power, causing Fenton to stumble back a little in surprise, but he was quick to recover, throwing more ice at Izuku as he barely managed to dodge out of the way, sticking to hopping around instead of running and risking slipping.

Where was Yaoyorozu?

Fenton didn’t seem like he wanted to advance, in fact, whenever Izuku seemed to get too close, Fenton would step back. He was keeping a distance.

Long range fighter. Better take it closer!

Izuku dove in again, and Fenton twisted to avoid his attack, but this time Izuku was prepared for the dodge. He landed hard on the ice and jumped back at him, elbowing Fenton’s back and sending him into his own ice. Fenton slammed into it just as planned and stumbled, twisted and threw more ice at Izuku, but he kept dodging, feeling frost build up on his uniform as he got closer and closer. Izuku switched into close combat, throwing a punch and a rounded kick.

But then Fenton seemed to switch tactics too, his stance shifted slightly as he realized he was cornered and he became more defensive. His arms pulled close to him as he took both the punch and the kick, and returned them at full force at such a speed that Izuku couldn’t dodge or block them, getting punched in the face and then the gut, and a final kick sent him flying back.

Too far back- over the line.

“Izuku is out.”

Izuku huffed as the breath was knocked out of him, wheezing as he twisted into a sitting position. This dude was scrawny, how did he land such solid hits? He needed more training… way more training if he was defeated so easily. Yaoyorozu must still be in the battle, since Mr. Aizawa hadn’t mentioned her name. Though Izuku noticed Fenton tense at the announcement, probably coming to the same conclusion. His eyes scanned the icy field he had created and Izuku realized he accidently put himself at a disadvantage! It was near impossible to pinpoint where exactly Yaoyorozu could be hiding with all the corners and hidden edges surrounding him. And without a fire quirk to melt the ice, he was even more put at a disadvantage!

Izuku then felt his jaw drop as Fenton reached out with both hands and then pulled them in, the ice on the field liquifying with the movement into a watery mess.

And exposing Yaoyorozu as she landed heavily in the newly made puddles.

Though she barely looked surprised, instead the moment the ice disappeared and before Danny could find her position, she acted. She lunged forward and snatched his wrist, pulling a pair of handcuffs and slapping them on and dragging his hands behind his back. Fenton wasn’t done yet, twisting out of her grip and stumbling away, “I can just freeze my way out-,” his grin faltered a little, “why is it not-?”

“Those are cuffs made from high alloy steel,” Yaoyorozu grinned, “the best metal to resist the cold. Unless your ice can drop below liquid nitrogen levels of freezing, those cuffs won’t budge!”

“Better safe than sorry, huh?” Danny grinned back.

Wait- he lost why was he-?

Blue beams shot from his eyes and hit Yaoyorozu before she could even consider dodging, freezing her solidly on the spot and keeping just her head unfrozen.

“That’s the match. Danny wins.”

He- he could shoot ice out of his eyes as well?

Izuku was left dumbfounded, trying to piece together what It could mean about his quirk when a shadow fell over him and a concerned looking Fenton was looking down at him, “are… are you okay dude? Did I hit you too hard? I didn’t think it was a good idea to hold back-...”

Izuku shook his head, pushing himself to his feet as he watched Yaoyorozu make a key for the cuffs. Danny must have freed her while he was still reeling from the eye ice beam thing. “I’m fine- just winded,” he coughed, “that quirk is amazing, and your fighting style too! You switched so effortlessly!” Izuku delved into the fight, determined to pick out where he went wrong and how to get better. “It’s so much like Todoroki’s quirk but without the fire side of it, you must be able to have much more control over the ice- does it form from water particles in the air or do you create it on your own? Can you create eyes from anywhere else on your body or just your hands and eyes? How do you thermoregulate? That ice was really slippery too, do you control how cold it can become? Or the smoothness of it? Can you only make big pillars like that or small detailed things too-?” Izuku had to pause for a breath, which was enough time for Yaoyorozu to butt in with her own questions.

“Why doesn’t your ice melt?” She asked breathlessly.

Izuku jerked his attention towards her, “it- it doesn’t melt?”

She shook her head, “I made a flamethrower and it didn’t do anything. Not even a drop of water. I managed to only get out with an ice chipper, and if I had known you could create ice from your eyes as well, I would have made a blindfold! Just what kind of ice is this?”

Fenton shrugged casually, “I call it Phantom Ice. Because honestly it behaves weird. Like being unmeltable.”

Izuku wanted to grab his hands and beg him to make more ice, just to study it, to see the properties, to see if it was actually ice or an odd substitute.

But Mr. Aizawa took this moment of peak discovery to step in, “you can discuss your quirk properties later, but now I want you to figure out why Danny beat both of you and how he could have pulled through with a swiffer win.”

Izuku nodded, but his mind was still focused on Fentons quirk, so much that he noticed that it may affect his body’s biology based on the cold mist that seemed to escape his lips every few seconds.

Must be a side effect of his quirk.

—————————————————————

Danny could barely hide his relief when the class ended, and the students began to get ready for the next. He may be able to avoid Midoriya for a bit. For some reason, his ghost sense decided to be a bitch and go a bit haywire around him. And Danny knew he wasn’t a ghost, and it wasn’t a death type of sense either. Well not really. It was… hiccups. Ghost sense hiccups.

And worse; Midoriya seemed to notice his sense.

He never felt more relieved to have chosen ice as his ‘quirk’ than in that moment, because he could just chalk it up to a side effect or something. Sometimes he just- breaths out cold air! No big deal!

He was about to head to the next class as well when Aizawa called out, “Denki, Fenton, hold back a moment.”

He hung back, noticing some other kid freeze at the mention of the name, his hair slightly lifting in the air as he slowly looked over his shoulder. He had this golden shade of yellow for hair with an odd black streak that ran across his long bangs. Like a lightning bolt. Yellow eyes too. Electricity seemed to dance in his eye, along with a very scared and almost panicked look on his face. He quickly turned to the friend group he was walking away with, which included Mina from the mall. As well as a redhead that the loud and aggressive kid, Bakugou, referred to as ‘shitty hair’, and tape arm guy which he hadn’t caught the name of yet. He tried to remember this dude’s power but he must have been distracted during his fight or didn’t use it too much.

Eventually Bakugou shoved Denki toward him and Aizawa and the rest walked off, leaving their friend behind, who shakily turned toward them. “Ah- so- what's this about?”

Aizawa pointed at Danny, “Fenton needs a tutor, and I’m assigning you as that tutor.”

Danny blinked while Denki’s jaw dropped.

“Wait! Wait wait! I can’t tutor- have you seen my grades? I’m already freaking out about the final!” Denki exclaimed.

“Your English and Literature skills are your highest grade. And Danny doesn’t know how to write in Japanese, his English writing techniques are… in need of polishing as well.”

Danny huffed out a ‘Hey!’ before Denki spoke up again.

“B-but what about Midoriya? Or Iida? Or Yaoyorozu! They all would do a way better job than me! And they all have way higher grades!”

“Midoriya would quickly become distracted, while studying is a strength of his, tutoring could become disastrous due to his… problematic tendencies. Iida has his own personal issues to deal with at the moment, as well as I feel his way of tutoring won’t exactly cater to Danny’s style of study.” Danny blinked at the observation, he noticed a style of study? “And while Yaoyorozu is a viable candidate, I believe you would benefit most from this kind of interaction with your peers. You have high grades in these fields, even surpassing the giant graders of your class. You have insight in essays that others don’t even touch on, and I know you are skilled in a variety of languages.” Aizawa placed a hand on Denki’s shoulder, “you may lack in some fields of study, but Danny can help in return regarding those areas. And you are skilled in these areas enough that I know it will be beneficial for both of you. You should give yourself more credit, you’ve certainly earned your place among your peers.” Aizawa stepped back, his expression barely changing through the encouraging speech, “not to mention I feel like you two have very similar personalities. Now you can figure out times and places for these sessions to take place on your own. I’ll write you both late passes too.”

Denki and Danny shared glances to each other as Aizawa took out the passes and began to sign them, both slightly confused but their shared confusion seemed to bridge a little bit of a connection. “1 hour sessions on Mondays, Wednesday’s, and Fridays after classes?” Danny asked.

Denki grinned back, “that seems like it could work, alternating places to meet up?”

Danny nodded, “Mind coming to Aizawa’s place to start?”

Denki’s eyes widened, and then a curious and slightly devious look flashed through his eyes, “a chance to see where my homeroom teacher lives? Count me in, the guys will be ecstatic!”

Danny grinned back, and he heard Aizawa sigh, drawing back their attention.

He looked so much more tired than he did a few seconds ago, “just don’t break anything.”

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[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper - Part Eleven

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: SMUT, fingering, oral (F receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, swearing Length: 2.1k Notes: Okay, I officially hate writing smut? Like, this took forever to write and I’ve never hated writing a chapter more. Don’t think I’ll do anything this detailed again it reads so awkwardly!? I’m not even going to read it through to make sure there aren’t any wonky mistakes so feel free to dm me if you see any glaring issues I’d love you forever (be kind)

Series Masterlist

You wanted him in you. 

In your mouth, in your needy cunt, at this point, you'd just be happy with him in your hand, but Frankie had other plans. Once the shower water had run cold he had helped you out of the shower, back to being the complete gentleman he always was, acting like he hadn't just been holding you up against the tile wall finger fucking you to completion.

He'd barely let you touch him and the lack of contact was driving you crazy. Once you'd dried off you had planned on sinking to your knees and finally getting a proper taste of him. His cock was impossibly hard, slicked already with the pre-come that was leaking from his red, swollen tip. The sight of it making your mouth water and cunt clench.

Just as you dropped your towel into a convenient, cushiony pile right at his feet, however, Frankie grabbed you for a bruising kiss. Pressing his body flush up against you, he guided you back until you felt the press of the counter on your ass, not stopping until you were leaning against the mirror and your feet had come up off the floor.

Frankie pulled away from your mouth slowly, the hungry look in his eyes making you feel like his prey. He dragged his lips down your neck, stopping to sink his teeth into the tender flesh where your shoulders met your neck causing you to cry out his name in a broken voice you barely recognized as your own.

As his mouth moved to worship your chest, his hands found purchase in the supple flesh of your thighs. Running his fingers from your hips to your knees and back, thumbs digging in to massage the muscles tired from your day at the fair. Groans, whimpers, and panting breaths all fell from between your kiss-swollen lips despite your attempts to quiet yourself.

As if reading your mind, Frankie gently bit down on the nipple he had pulled into his mouth to get your attention then moved back just enough to murmur, "Let me hear you, honey. I want to hear how good I can make you feel."

You weren't used to the encouragement, the attentiveness, so you had a hard time allowing your cries their full volume feeling too self-conscious. When Frankie sank to his knees, threw your legs over his shoulders, and licked you from ass to clit? You all but screamed for him.

With one arm slung across your hips, holding you in place, Frankie used the other to continue teasing and pinching your nipples while his mouth devoured you.

If this had been happening with any other man, you would have probably stopped it by now. The counter was cold, your ass felt like it was constantly on the verge of slipping off the edge, your neck was going to have a crick in it tomorrow from where it was bent against the mirror.

None of it even registered in your mind, though, with the way Frankie was playing you like a flute. Both of your hands were tangled in his hair, gripping tight to both hold him in place and to keep you grounded. Feeling a familiar burn building in your body, drawing towards your core where it would compact and pulse before the explosive release, you tried to grind your hips up against his face.

"Please," you beg, "please, Frankie! I need you, oh! Yes! I need, I need..."

"D'you need to cum, baby girl?" Frankie asks, panting against your core.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh, yes, Frankie please!"

"Then cum for me," he commanded before sucking your clit into his mouth and thrusting two fingers deep into you to strum against that sacred spot inside of you that made you see stars.

You came with a shout, legs clamping together and trapping his head where it continued to work you through your convulsions. Pulling away once your legs had become rubbery enough to weaken the cage they'd created, Frankie gives you a quick, dirty kiss before helping you walk to his bed area to dress. Watching him pull on a pair of faded, well-worn jeans caused your brain to short circuit.

Why was him going commando so fucking hot?!

"I don't know about you," his voice snapped you out of your lust-laden haze, calling from the kitchenette "but I'm famished!"

"Are you serious?!" You huffed out, half in exasperation and have in amusement.

"Frankie, you're-, you haven't-, I mean." There was no delicate way you could phrase this, "Don't you want to fuck me?"

You could feel the heat from his gaze even from the distance, see the way his eyes darkened again with lust. "Of course I do, you know I do," he practically growled, your thighs clenching and rubbing together in response. "But when I do, I don't want interruptions. I don't want to be able to get up again before tomorrow. So I'm trying very hard to ignore how fucking incredibly sexy you look, perched on my bed like that, and make us some food."

You'd never been good at accepting compliments, and Brad's habit of dishing them out only to expect something in return had made you uneasy from them. This time, though, you could see the truth in Frankie's eyes, the simplicity in the way he says them like a fact.

"If you don't put on some clothes though," he continues, voice more gravelly and strained than ever, "I'm either going to ruin dinner or scrap that plan entirely."

Taking pity on him, and what you could only assume was a terribly painful erection straining in his jeans, you picked through his closet and found a pair of boxers and a threadbare flannel shirt to wear.

"Hmm, look at you," he practically purred, gazing at you with heavy-lidded eyes, "you're stunning." Pulling you into his side and kissing your hairline he continues "I remember thinking how beautiful you were the first time I saw you."

You laughed, remembering your first interaction, "That was the least flattering introduction, oh my god! I had forgotten our little spat at the market!"

"I'd seen you earlier," he admits with the ghost of a smile like he was reliving the scene in his mind. "You had the happiest grin on your face, chatting so easily with everyone, and you were holding a big bunch of sunflowers." His eyes focus again and he sheepishly glances to the floor, rubbing the back of his neck, "Aw man, I wanted you to come and talk to me so badly. I wanted to see that smile directed at me."

"And then you insulted me instead," you finished for him, the mirth evident in your tone. "You know," you suddenly recalled a drunken conversation you'd had with a friend months ago "I just remembered I owe you a kiss and Jacquie's regards."

Turning from the cutting board, and the ingredients for what looked like a delicious stir-fry, Frankie gazed at you with a lazy smirk curling his lips. "Is that so?"

"Mmmm," you nodded, looking at him through your lashes. He didn't immediately turn back to prepping food and you took that as an invitation. Wrapping your arms around his neck you softly pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"That's for making great cider," then kissing his nose "and that's for being a great boss," his chin, "the greatest handyman," his lips, "and for trapping you on the Ferris wheel for nearly an hour."

Frankie huffed out a laugh then silenced you from further embarrassing him, he didn't do well with compliments, by kissing you back with fervor. Fuck dinner, he thought, having you couldn't wait any longer.

Sweeping you off your feet, swallowing your surprised shriek with a kiss, Frankie carried you back to his bed. He had restrained himself so well already, taking his time with you and pacing himself, but the way you looked in his clothes, on his bed, and under him was just too much.

"I need you," he gasped as he kneeled over you, gripping the lapels of his old work shirt you’d decided to wear, "I don't know if I can be gentle."

"I don't want you to be."

Something in him snapped, he was no longer controlled and methodological, his body was running on pure, animalistic instinct now. Ripping his shirt apart, sending buttons flying, Frankie crashed his mouth to yours again. A small sane voice in the back of his mind took note of the hunger in your kiss back, assuring him that you were more than okay with his pace.

Bracing himself on one arm, he used the other to help you rip the boxers off your legs then cupping your core, wet again for him already, while you made quick work of his jeans.

The minute they were down far enough for his cock to spring out he was shoving your hands away, gathering your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head, and he entered you with one swift pump of his hips.

He stalled out inside of you, needing a minute to steady himself as your wet heat engulfed him. The scrape of your nails on your shoulders and ragged gasps were driving him wild but it was your impossibly tight cunt that nearly made him finish before he'd even started.

Breathe, breathe, think about unsexy things. Apples, nothing sexy about those- a memory of you singing endearingly while picking apples invades his thoughts. Okay, uh trucks? Driving my truck- suddenly he's remembering how concerned you'd been for his farm and not your truck during that freak storm. Fuck! This isn't helping. Mom? Ew- he's picturing you, round and glowing, arms cradling his future child with a soft smile on your face.

Realizing that his efforts to distract himself weren't going to help, he began to plow into you in earnest. Giving your wrists a final squeeze he commands you to keep them there with a "Stay" and a dark glint in his eyes. Your pliant body and complete trust in him is making his head swim, it may have been close to two years since his last hook-up but he knows that abstinence isn't the only reason this is feeling so good.

He crushes his mouth to yours again in a needy kiss before kneeling back so he can watch himself disappear into your greedy cunt then reappear, covered in your slick.

He was getting close and, by the sound of your ragged cries, you were too. Hoisting your legs up until they're flush against his chest, ankles resting on his shoulder, he tilts your hips and thrusts up into you. Looking, for, the perfect, angle- you scream his name and he knows he's found it.

Holding that position and pistoning into you, Frankie is sure you're going to have bruises on your thighs from where his arm is keeping them trapped against him. He can't help it though and is pretty sure you'd swear at him if he decided to suddenly stop to switch positions.

He wants you to cum again, one more time, when he does.

"Frankie!"

Your voice sounded wrecked, words rasping through a throat unused to the moans and cries from the past hour. He noticed how your knuckles were white from where they grasped the pillow in a death grip, trying your absolute hardest to please him by keeping them where he commanded.

"You've been so good, honey" he crooned as his thumb found your little bundle of nerves and rubbed circles around it. "Come on baby, you can do it, cum for me."

Shaking your head back and forth, you cried out to him "I can't! I can't! I need to touch you, I need more!"

"Yes, you can," Frankie practically growled out and felt your cunt clench around him as a result. "Let go-" pinching your clit hard "-and cum."

Frankie slammed into you one last time before the pressure that had been building up at the back of his cock finally explodes. A white-hot explosion erupts down his shaft as his hot cum shoots out in a blinding wave of ecstasy. Simultaneously, your back had arched and Frankie could just make out, through the haze of his own release, the way you screamed his name as your orgasm hit.

His entire body was like rubber, it never ceased to amaze him how fast the come-down hit him, and he flopped down onto you for a minute to rest. Your hands finally moved from their imaginary bindings and smoothed the hair from his sweaty brow, huffing a laugh as the euphoria that only a good fucking can provide hit.

"Told you we'd be great," you whispered.

He could hear the smugness in your voice and it made him smile and wonder what else the two of you could be great at together.

Part Twelve 

[dameronology]

walls {steve rogers}

summary: steve just wants to look after you - even if it means breaking down your insanely stubborn walls. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood + stitches 

- jazz

Steve Rogers was overprotective. 

Everyone knew it - you knew it, his team-mates knew it, his best friends knew it. Heck, the crazy old lady who lived across the hall from you knew it. Most of the time, it was pretty endearing; he’d refuse to let you walk alone in the dark and he’d make you text him when you were home safe. You knew that he was your ride-or-die, your partner-in-crime and your best friend all rolled into one. It was the sort of thing that people found their lives searching for but rarely found. Perhaps you’d been one of the lucky ones.

But, working in such close proximity to each other - and especially in a line of work where doing dangerous things was literally in your job description - could often be a source of friction. You both tried hard to work around it, but sometimes things came to head in an unavoidable way and you just had to deal with it. Steve’s overbearingness was the very anti-thesis of your rebellious tendencies and, like a match being struck, a fire was bound to start. 

‘You didn’t listen to me!’ 

‘I did listen to you!’ You were moving around the apartment, attention half on unpacking your things and the other half on ripping into Steve.

‘So why didn’t you follow my orders?’ He was stood in the door way, a stony look on his features and his arms folded tightly across his chest. ‘I told you to get out before the agents could open fire on you-’

‘- and I got them before they did!’ You cut him off, throwing him a glare over your shoulder. ‘I had every one of those HYDRA bastards out cold before they could even reach for their guns!’

‘That’s not the point.’ Steve’s voice was cold, almost accusatory. ‘The point is that you went against my direct orders-’

‘- save it, Rogers.’ You slammed your wardrobe shut, kicking the empty bag under the bed. ‘I still have to stitch myself up and I don’t have the energy to fight with you.’

‘You need stitches?’ Right, that only made it worst. Great going, moron. ‘Why didn’t you go to medical when we landed?’

You groaned. ‘Because I couldn’t be bothered, okay? I’ve spent the last five days in rural Russia hearing Barnes and Wilson argue over weaponry tactics and I just wanted to get home and having a fucking coffee.’

Steve decided he couldn’t argue with that.

Pushing past him, you headed to your bathroom to find the first-aid kit. It wasn’t anything bad - just a small wound on your thigh. It would have been much easier to let the medic deal with it back at the base, but as you’d said to Steve, you just wanted to get home. It was much more pleasant to do it in within the walls of your own home, even if your stitches were usually a little wonky. 

After ditching your SHIELD uniform for an old t-shirt of Steve’s, you propped your leg up on the counter and unwound the bandages you hastily forced on there in the quintjet bathroom. You could have stitched yourself up there and then, but the turbulence had made things a little bumpy and Thor had been banging on the door for the better part of ten minutes. Whatever genius had lead Tony Stark to put only one bathroom on those jets was beyond you, but you’d made a mental note to write him a strongly worded email.

‘Shit.’ You murmured. Even after years on the job and hundreds of stitches, they still hurt. ‘Fuuuuuuuck.’

‘Sweetheart.’ Steve’s voice came from the doorway. ‘I know you’re mad at me, but please let me help.’

Admittedly, you wouldn’t have sustained the injury if you’d just done as he’d said. Both of you were very aware of the fact but bringing it up would have simply been salt in the wound. 

‘I don’t need help.’ You grunted. ‘It’s not even that big of a wound.’

‘You can’t downplay a knife wound-’

‘- it wasn’t a knife!’ You protested. ‘It was just another form of bladed, metal weapon.’

‘So...a sword, then?’ He took a step closer to you, warm hands coming to rest on your shoulders. ‘Surely that’s worst?’

Letting out a groan, you dropped the needle in defeat, taking a seat on the edge of the bath. The super soldier crouched in front of you, a large palm resting on your thigh to keep it still as the other went to work on closing your wound.

‘These look like Y-incision stitches, doll.’

‘I’m a field agent, not a doctor.’

‘Thankfully.’ He muttered. ‘I’ll get some pain killers for you from Bruce in the morning.’

‘You don’t have to do that.’ You replied. ‘I’m fine, I swear.’

‘It’s more for me, actually.’ Steve quirked a brow at you. ‘You’re a real grouch when you’re in pain and I have to live with you.’

Steve was fluent in...well, you. He knew exactly what to say and exactly what to do to get you to do things (usually in the form of looking after yourself). You would never admit that you needed painkillers but you would take them if he insisted that it made life easier for him. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book - and you were completely aware of his play.

‘In that case, I suppose I should take them then.’ You casually shrugged.

‘Thank you.’ He leant up to give you a kiss on the cheek.

After giving the wound one final clean, Steve wrapped a bandage around your thigh and picked you up, carrying you back to the bedroom. He placed you down on the bed and took a seat beside you. The post-fight tension quickly returned, seeping into the nooks and crannies of the temporary truce you’d found in the bathroom. The issue was still there; you were still mad at each other. 

‘Next time something like that happens, please go to the nurse.’ Steve gently reached out to you, placing his hand over yours. ‘It might injure your pride but that won’t kill you.’

‘It might.’

‘Baby.’ He groaned. ‘I can live with you ignoring my orders but I can’t live with you getting hurt because of it-’

‘- it’s a few stitches. Stop being a drama queen.’

‘What if it’s not a few stitches next time?’ He let go of your hand, twisting to face you so that he was resting on his side. ‘What if it’s a knife to your chest? Or a bullet?’

‘It won’t be!’ You said. ‘That’s not going to happen.’

‘Every agent who’s died in the field has probably thought the same.’ Steve shot back.

‘We both work in an area with high risks.’ You reasoned. ‘You’re going to have to learn to live with the fact that I’m going to get hurt.’

‘I know that.’ He reminded you. ‘But I just...I give you those orders for your safety. I don’t do it to boss you around or to piss you off. I do it so that you don’t get killed.’

‘Steve-’

‘- so that I don’t lose you.’ 

All pride aside, he kind of had the upper hand here. You were utterly terrified of the prospect of life without Steve, and it was foolish to assume that it didn’t go both ways. You were so desperate to hold onto him and to keep him by your side, but you never stopped to think that he did the same. Everything he did, he did for you. You knew that, but it was easy to forget when your pride got in the way. 

‘You’re not going to lose me.’ The words breathily escaped your lips. Steve took you in his arms as they did, reaching out to you to pull you into his chest.

‘Please try and understand where I’m coming from.’ His tone wasn’t pleading, but you could sense the desperation in his words. ‘I know it was just a few stitches today-’

‘- I do.’ You cut him off. ‘I do understand, I swear.’

‘You know I love your stubbornness, but it’s not worth much unless you’re alive and in one piece.’ Steve said. ‘Please just promise me you’ll try and listen?’

‘I promise.’ You quickly replied. 

‘And I know I’m asking a lot now, but please start going to the nurse-’

‘- Rome wasn’t built in a day, Stevie.’ You pressed a kiss to his nose. ‘Maybe ask me about that next week?’

‘I’m starting to think you like it when I stitch you up.’

‘I was never denying it.’ 

[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART SIX

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Short!Reader

Genre: fluff and some angst

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer

Warnings: a high probability for swearing

Words: 1.7K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

     "LEONARDO, MICHELANGELO!" An eleven year old Y/N Robins called from her porch door, impatiently tapping a food bowl against the wooden frame she leant against. Behind her, the sun was setting and painted the sky a gorgeous array of pinks and oranges, sweeping together like watercolours. She looked out on the street impatiently, finding its sleeping state both calming and unnerving. Elm Street was never noisy, but after three years of living there, the girl had realised it wasn't a place of silence either.

And she was completely right. A distant, yet soft, meow grew ever closer, finally appearing around the side of a bush. Y/N grinned, affectionately calling out for the birman to go find his dinner, "C'mere Angelo, that's it boy!"

He trotted past her up into the house where his found his dinner waiting.

"Leo!" Her small voice called out as loud as it could into the cool evening air. He had wandered off earlier that same day to enjoy the Riverdale summer heat elsewhere, and the Robins family didn't think anything of it. Just as her mouth opened to call out the name again, Vegas came barrelling out from the door of the Andrews household, across the street to her side with Mary and Archie following.

The Andrews matriarch noticed the empty food bowl, "Is everything alright, Y/N/N?" She asked in her usual professional voice, but the girl knew from experience how much love and warmth it really held. Elodie told her about Leonardo's disappearance and how it wasn't uncommon in this kind of weather, but he could be getting a bit hungry.

Mary handed the dog leash to her son and sent him a secret wink, "Why don't you two walk Vegas together and see if you can find him?"

Excitement had been bubbling through the small town of Riverdale for weeks now anticipating the big Fourth of July celebrations ahead of them. Y/N Robins had planned on keeping up with her old tradition of sleeping in until late afternoon, then rolling out of bed in time to catch the fireworks with her friends. But with with the drunkenly asking Archie to be her boyfriend, which was not something she remembered a few hours later, her plans for this year were flipped on their head. So she found herself getting dressed to go talk things out with her supposedly best friend in a quiet spot next to sweet water river.

With her hair half tied up, and a black denim jacket over her shoulders, Y/N left through the door in her bedroom, and waited on the edge of the pavement until she heard a door across the street open and quietly shut. Any butterflies fluttering in her stomach all but disappeared as Archie turned around and smiled into the early morning sun towards her. It had been three days since they had last seen each other, since the girl confessed she didn't really know what she wanted in the space between them.

He jogged over road, asphalt kicking up under his new Nike trainers, and immediately engulfed Y/N's small frame into his own. The two teenagers walked all the way to the edge of Sweetwater River in the silvery silence of early birds and rustling leaves, their hands every now and again grazing each other and lacing together.

"So," The Andrews boy sighed as he lay against the warm grass, watching as she sat next to him and propped her head up on his chest, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Leo!" Y/N's melodic voice rang out across the long stretch of stream. Crystal clear water you could see the smoothness of the rocks which lay underneath if you peaked your head over the bank enough. For some unknown reason, the young cat would always find his way towards some kind of water, even back in Phoenix.

"Hello?" Archie bopped the girl on the tip of her nose as she returned back to reality, evidently not hearing what he'd just asked by the puzzled look her face adorned.

She hummed and gave him her full attention, allowing him to rephrase his previous words. In the back of her mind, Y/N knew exactly what she wanted- to leave high school and go on endless adventures with the boy her head lay upon. She wanted an easy life, away from the eerie little town she called home- to decorate her own house with pictures of smiles and candid memories. But most of all, in that perfect moment, she wanted herself to let go and fall in love with her childhood best friend.

After finding Prince Charming and finding out he was really the one from Shrek and not Cinderella, her faith in true love was shaken at the age of sixteen.

"I'm scared of you hurting me, or doing anything that could possibly hurt you, Arch." Y/N's voice faltered at her blunt honesty, "I meant everything I said, but I don't think I'm over what happened with Chuck last year."

"Tiger," Archie interrupted her thoughts, sitting up slightly leaning back on one hand and using the other to cup her face, "I can't promise we won't ever hurt each other even just a little bit, but whatever happens, we'll learn and grown from it together. I don't think I'll ever fully understand how much that bastard hurt you. But, nothing in this world that's worth having comes easy, life is scary and I'll go through all of the shitty parts twenty three hours a day, if it means I get just one with you smiling up at me."

Half an hour of roaming up and down the river bank had passed before a twisting, nauseous feeling took over the pit of Y/N's stomach. She and her family adored their two fluffy boys, her dad would never admit it but they all heard the little 'goodnights' he'd whisper as he made his way up to bed finally. Though with her parents still working, and Y/S/N desperately needing to finish an assignment due tomorrow, the youngest Robins was the only one able to attend this search and rescue mission.

"What if he's -"

Vegas rubbed his nose against her shin in comfort.

"Y/N/N," A twelve year old Archie cut her off in his usual caring voice, "don't even let your mind go there. He's a little ninja cat he's probably off catching frogs or something."

He grabbed her hand, squeezing it in comfort and heading towards an unexplored area of the forest line. Truth be told, he was meant to be doing English homework with Betty Cooper right about now, but that had slipped his mind as soon as Y/N Robins adorably wonky smile found him across the road.

"Leo!" Y/N's sweet voice called out.

"Leonardo?" Archie followed with Vegas by his side.

"That's the sweetest thing I think I've ever heard." The girl admitted shyly, hiding her rose dusted cheeks by bringing Archie into a tight hug, her head resting in the crook of his neck while her long y/h/c hair tickled his face. It smelt of strawberries and mint in the morning breeze.

"Y/N/N, can I ask you something?" His voice sounded nervous, but as she looked up and nodded, his face held a smirk, "Will you stay my girlfriend?"

She answered with a small kiss, staring into his eyes innocently as her fingers traced his back under his thin t-shirt, about to lift the material from his body. But life had a funny way of throwing challenges their way, making them run before they could walk.

"I think I see him!" Archie handed the leash to his best friend, seeing a patch of grey in between the auburn autumn leaves. Vegas barked and tried to follow after his human, but Y/N managed to stop the Labrador from bounding away by distracting him with ear rubs. Wild growls and hisses could be heard as Archie wrestled the feisty long haired cat into his hoodie clad arms. Then Leonardo hissed so madly, the young boy almost dropped him, "Yep, definitely Leo."

Y/N ran over as fast as she could, dropping the lead as soon as she saw his pumpkin eyes and bare teeth, clearly not a fan of Archie. She grinned widely with glee and got to her tippy toes to kiss Archie's cheek. "You're a life saver!"

As soon as the fluffy animal felt Y/N's little hands rubbing his chin as she took him from the boy's arms, he switched into a completely different cat and started purring.

A gunshot sounded through the open clearing, and before a high pitched scream could escape from Y/N's mouth, Archie saw the terror in her eyes and pulled the petite girl behind him. He scaled the area, unable to see anything but birds fleeing from the unusual noise.

"We need to get out of here." The boy's gravely voice whispered with urgency, picking her up without hesitation and running until his lungs burnt and his trainers once again hit the comfort of tarmac.

"What the fuck was that?" Y/N screeched, her inquisitiveness telling to turn back, but thankfully common sense won that battle. She and Archie found themselves back on the pavement of Elm Street before they knew it.

"Y/N, we didn't see anything, it could've been a car backfiring a street away for all we know." Archie tried to rationalise, but in all honesty he was stuck to his core with dread.

"Right, or someone was just murdered and we could've been next on some psychopaths hit list." Y/N's dark mind shone through as she blurted out her inner monologue. The boy didn't have any words of wisdom, instead he lead her to his front door and brought her into his body. They stayed in their own little world for what could have been hours, thankful they had each other and not allowing themselves to think about what secrets Riverdale was really hiding under it's pretty exterior.

Nothing ever happened in the town with 'pep'.

Betty Cooper awoke early that Saturday morning, ready to get any assignments out of the way to enjoy the weekend ahead. She opened her curtains and tied her hair up into a ponytail, but as she looked out of her window at the beautiful blue skies, she watched in shock at the surprising scene unfolding in front of her. Y/N Robins up on her tippy toes, with Archie Andrews' hands wrapped around her waist as they kissed intensely in what the two thought was privacy.

PART SEVEN

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