#half expected it to flop…

[adhd-culture--is]

adhd culture is having 700 followers! we grow up so fast. maybe i should do something special for 1k. i’ll probably forget.

[fumifooms]

Do you think Kui retconned Kabru and Rin as a couple? It seems so strange how Kabru treats her if he views her as a sister

Rin & Kabru relationship analysis

Skip to the keep reading cut if you only want my Kabru & Rin thoughts. Tldr of the preamble is that I don't think Kui retconned anything but I don't think Kabru and Rin were ever meant to end up as a couple, but that doesn't mean that there's no way anything deeper or more complex is happening here. Under the keep reading is my pretty full analysis of Rin & Kabru, which I'll still cover in my full Kabru party analysis eventually.

1) People do debate about whether or not Kui changed her approach to a lot of her characters halfway through the story, Kabru, Thistle and Chilchuck to name some of the biggest ones. I've heard it be an explanation for the shapeshifters even, that it's a meta joke on how characters' old behavior and appearances have now become out of character. I personally believe nothing has been retconned, that all the characters are coherent and, perhaps more importantly, that regardless of later intent the early writing makes the characters more interesting and layered. Not that the idea of there being or needing retcons has no merit at all, for example forest goblins are in-world common knowledge to be found on the second floor, but we also learn later that "goblin" is a slur against half-foots, and knowing Dunmeshi's philosophy about humanoid monsters it's odd that they never ever come up again if they exist. The anime -and iirc adventurer's bible- kept there being goblins on the second floor of the dungeon, so much like Thistle's early appearance I have to believe it's a part of canon that's not meant to be retconned, ie that's canon and accepted as such, with some degree of intent. We do know that the climax of the manga was going to happen differently with what Kui was planning in the earlier manga days, with demon king dunlord Laios, too. Regardless of all this, for better or worse we have what we have now, and we must take it all into account as the whole picture of the work's story, setting and cast– starting to pick and choose what's actually canon from the canon story is just giving up and letting the world burn lol.

2) Kui is fearless when it comes to presenting us with complex layered relationships without feeling the need for them to explain themselves or offering full closure. Marcille canonically sees Falin as a friend. Laios' succubus was undebatably Marcille. Mickbell sees Kuro as family. Were the Touden parents bad parents? Is Maizuru? Is Milsiril? Ambiguity in Dunmeshi's case is a feature and not a bug, and perhaps this short story of Kui's shows why she prefers not to cast moral judgement as a narrator on various acts and characters. There's this very neutral approach to her writing where the cast does its own thing and she just tells us what happens, and as I said closure isn't a given. I've talked about the matter of whether or not Chilchuck's wife accepts him back before, something that bothers and lingers for a lot of readers, but an example that haunts me is Mickbell and Kuro. It's explicitly stated that Mickbell continues to "still being worked hard by Mickbell" after canon, and though we have one hint of how it might get better with Kuro learning common slowly but surely, there's no 1) conclusions as to what their relationship is exactly and 2) discouraging or encouraging framing for it, there's chiding but ultimately whether the relationship is more healthy than it is unhealthy and more salvageable than unsalvageable and "worth it" isn't answered. What happens will happen, and we just have to come to an answer that satisfies us on our own :') Or hey, how Falin only starts finding herself in post-canon! It offers a nice end to her arc in canon of having a very malleable unpresent identity, but it starts another of self-exploration growth that is left open-ended. So, it's not because a relationship feels wrong or unfinished that it wasn't well-written or intended.

3) Kui doesn't lie but characters can. Characters can be unaware of things or even wrong, even with their own feelings, like Chilchuck saying he doesn't care about the party etc etc, or more widely Marcille thinking orcs are scum, or people at large in Dunmeshi believing in a modified truth of history, a version of it without the demon. These can be wrong objectively, but furthermore they can be disproved by the text, the way that Dunmeshi shows us orcs can be communicated with and peaceful etc etc and every character's racism ends up narratively or implicitly discouraged and disproven, kobolds included. The story is told by us through the characters and their actions, so it's their flawed perspective and incomplete information that we have.

So, okay. Relationships are very complex but Kui doesn't tell lies, there's no info or moments that really have been retconned. The reader is left to make their own interpretation of canon.

... OKAY LAST TANGENT but we have to acknowledge something about canon quick too: This is gonna sound ironic considering what I said earlier but while all extras are made to be in-character they're not all canon to the storyline, so to speak. There are sort of three types of extra comics context I can think of, there are comics set in pre or post canon, like the one about the way Marcille was welcomed into Laios' party, or Falin's answer to Toshiro's proposal, which we have no reason to not believe happened in the canon timeline. Daydream Hours extras are exceptions because they're usually looser than Adventurer's bible extras, for example the comic about Milsiril visiting Kabru has a "what if" phrasing to the blurb, implying it didn't happen. Then there are extras set vaguely in time that if during canon could simply happen off-screen, like Chilchuck's extra about hearing the party members going to the bathroom, a lot of monster tidbits also fit into this, which again I have no reason to assume haven't happened. But now we get to the last type, the one set at a precise moment in canon that is impossible. My go-to example is the tidbit about werewolves, it's set during the Laios vs Lycion fight with Kabru present, and those chapters in the story had quite tight plotting, it makes no sense to consider that extra within the reality of that moment, it breaks the tone and story continuity and timespan of the scene, it can't be canon to the canon storyline. This is to say that again, although in every extra the lore is correct and characters are in-character, some extras are not "canon" to the story's timeline and can't have actually happened. And since it happened with one extra that didn't have any disclaimer of being different than any other, it does put other extras' canonity into question a bit too. Ultimately, what we get in the actual manga is above everything else in both relevance and credibility. This is about extra comics, but I don't call into question all the extra info through text we get in character blurbs and about the Dunmeshi world within the Adventurer's Bible at all, especially since it was specifically made to inform us more about canon. This is all just something to keep in mind, when talking about Dunmeshi canon.

Okay, now. In terms of rin & Kabru's relationship, as for what we see of it...

The quickest summary of how they see each other:

Rin's line reflects how she follows him out of worry, thinking that his ambitious manipulating ways will fail him and get him in trouble eventually, and how that worry is out of care and love. Kabru's line... Is more ambiguous, but we'll get into it.

We don't see Kabru and Rin interact a ton, but we do see him bring her up/think of her unprompted this time, which reveals a bit of how he sees her/feels about her and what his priorities are.

He "wants to help her get away somehow", and this out of what? Duty? Charity? Care? The companionship they once shared? Sympathy, knowing how it feels like to be under inadequate care by elves? Kabru is empathetic and wants good for people, cares about people and community, is rather concerned by the greater good instead of individualistic gain etc etc, so this attention isn't necessarily uncharacteristic on its own.

What makes their bond unique is the history between them.

It's implied they spent a lot of time together growing up, which led to Rin wanting to stick with him. Perhaps as some trauma-fueled-bond hero, but in her own words mostly because she's worried he'll get into trouble if he's left alone. She expicitly loves him romantically, started presumably before canon and presumably hasn't stopped by the end of it either.

We see his priorities here. It's notable that besides Rin being the sort of by default second most important kabru party character, she's also the one he thinks of first, understandably since he knows her best. Like above, he speaks very matter-of-factly and coldly about it though, and he seems surprisingly apathetic. It's not the thought of hostages that drives him to eat those monsters and keep strong, it's the thought of learning the mystery of dungeons and how to prevent Utaya tragedies

This moment below may seem like nothing, but it's also pretty telling of their dynamic:

Rin in the moment negatively assumes he's only frivolously interested in Namari, and although Kabru doesn't shut it down instantly with a "this isn't about personal interest" he does imply clearly with "friends" that his intent isn't to woo her (the fantranslation uses the word lovers instead iirc, so the original japanese word might be more revealing. Considering how Kabru sometimes teases Rin and provokes her jealousy on purpose like with the mermaids, it's not impossible the word was an euphemism). Rin ambiguously disbelieves this and/or disapproves. It does feel like Kabru keeps this sort of persona air when answering her, so it's not entirely hard to understand- it's true he was keeping his real reasons and intent secret: only later on does he give his party the "Laios party" spiel and mention Namari was part of it.

This can also be seen as an example of the chaperone "big sister" effect of her nagging, and of her recurring bad faith towards him. Rin chastises Kabru for behavior and stances that are understandable, like telling him he shouldn't just smile and gloss things over when being belittled, but she does have the habit of being easily jealous and lashing out because of it. But again, if you see it from her stance, your childhood friend always thinks he an handle everything alone and acts like he has the fate of the world resting solely on his shoulders, and he keeps shutting you out and leaving you to guess for his intentions, and being someone under his leadership on top of a friend makes this more alarming and frustrating. Loving him as you do, knowing him for as long as you have, you'd wish Kabru was open with you and that'd create frustration.

Yet despite everything there's trust here. There's familiarity and a degree of comfort, even when Kabru always refuses to fully open up. A promise from Kabru means something to her, it's worth something, she does trust his word and morals even when she knows he can be dishonest. She's used to Kabru, and through thick and thin she wants to be there to support him in his goals and look after him.

But below, his priorities are reaffirmed. He literally pushes her out of his way in that first page, to get to laios who represents his goals, and then figuratively by brushing her off. I think it's very interesting that the look her gives her feels alike to the look he gives Laios shortly before, those sort of empty eyes. They make me think it's his mask-on "business mode" look, and when it's a matter of business things have gotten serious and he will not entertain irrelevant matters. Like Rin's feelings. My first instinct's always been that his look at her meant a resounding "shut up", but it's true it could also easily be a "come on, catch up", especially since he goes on to explain that they mustn't have meant harm in the first place.

It's not only the look that's cold though, because you'll remember, "catching the culprits" was the promise Kabru made to her, the one she trusted that made her agree to their party's plan at all in the first place. Even though the phrasing wasn't precise on that front, by giving up on confronting or punishing Laios' party at all he's breaking his promise, and doing so very dismissively.

It's the distance of it, in how cold he is to her, how distant from him and pushed away by him she feels. It seems to say that yes, the teases he does are meaningless bones he throws at her, the moments they share are below him and below his goals, this is what's important to him and this is how Kabru wants to treat her when push comes to shove. With harsh chiding of his own and then calm explanations, as if while she's heartfelt with him he's indifferent with her.

Although, like how in the end he doesn't want to kill Laios despite it being the safe choice, there's much to say on wether or not he would actually throw her under the bus in the end even if cornered. He always steels himself for the worst, but he's also more talk than bite when it comes to truly being effortlessly ruthless and he prefers to find peaceful and humane solutions. In the end though, the hostage situation more or less tips the scale both ways, even if it'd be easy to say he was simply hiding his concern.

Okay and now to quicken things up this is where I start dividing interpretations as "good faith" as in believing Kabru's explanation that he has a strictly sisterly attachment to her, vs "bad faith" where there is potential for considering romantic interest on his end.

To start with the least questionable:

"We're talking about how cute your smile is, Rin." Good faith: He's complimenting his friend, wants her to not feel insecure, wants her to feel more confident and likeable desirable, because he's nice or because he cares about her. It does make her happy in the end, after all. Knowing it would, he might even have said it just to demonstrate his point to Mickbell with her reaction. Bad faith: You know she likes you, isn't this weird to go out of your way to say? He's not lying exactly, but they were moreso talking about her attitude around smiling, and he could just as easily have deflected or said "Oh, nothing much". Bringing up her appearance or how cute she is could also have made her self-conscious, she's not really the kind that likes public attention- but he knows her the best and it shows, after all. In the end, it doesn't sound like something you'd just tell someone you know pines after you that you want to turn down or discourage from pursuing you.

"When she furrows her brows, I assume she's smiling inside" is also weird to me. Sure she does have this weird situation with emoting going on, but claiming Rin is never angry is factually wrong and always dismissing that anger feels belittling. But this approach to reading Rin and interacting with her would explain why he always teases her, I suppose.

But this is kinda what I mean when I say they are close, in a way, the way he knows how she is with smiling, the way he's comfortable saying things like this to her despite not being someone you just have to interact with occasionally. There IS familiarity there IS intimacy, it's just odd and inconsistently applied.

Kissing her: Good faith: This is an urgent dangerous situation and kissing her is the quickest and most direct way to shut her up, which in his situation he does not have the luxury of time or ressources to think through solutions better. We don't fully know the details of incantation magic's workings, had he slapped his hand over her mouth maybe her lips could have continued moving and chanting so she could have still finished her spell, compared to kissing where it stop both lip movement and sounds from coming out. Plus, kissing her has the added effect of heavily shocking her. In a 'what if' bluray bonus comic Kabru's party faces shapeshifters and he suggests everyone get naked as a quick solution, so it is implied there too that physical intimacy and privacy aren't something he puts above practicality. Bad faith: Gag her. Hell, shove your finger down her throat. 'Master of human anatomy and psychology' here decided he had no other choice than kissing her. In that 'what if' extra I mentioned, Kabru did find another much less practical way to deal with the shapeshifters and went through with that instead, knowing no one would be happy getting naked. Also "It's too bad she looks like a monster", hello what? Neutral: Perhaps he chose, because either way in any case he did choose to, to kiss her precisely because he's mr. master of psychology, because knowing it was Rin he decided kissing was the best approach specifically because it's her, knowing it'd shock her etc etc, regardless of it being tactful or not or if it'd hurt her or even encourage her love for him.

"It's too bad she looks like a monster." Good faith: It's a neutral enough statement that he could mean a couple of different things with it, including wishing he could see her reaction better or speak with her more easily. If we go with the "I wish I wasn't kissing her as a fishman" angle, well, he really hates monsters to a traumatized degree so pseudoincest may be preferrable over monsterfucking. Fair enough. Bad faith: The fantranslation translates it as "it's a shame" instead of "it's too bad", which does lend itself to a less neutral reading, but wether that's reliable and telling or not would depend on the original japanese sentence of course. He could have meant "I wish she looked like anything else but a monster", but "I wish she (at least?) looked like herself when I kissed her" is the most direct interpretation, and then, well. That's pretty damning. To me it sort of feels odd that'd have been the phrasing if that was the case, especially since Kabru especially has noticeable reactions to monsters like shaking, horrified faces and dramatic thoughts. This is his internal thoughts and "Too bad she looks like a monster" feels very casual- the same type of casual that he has when deflecting not being interested in Namari to Rin, aka him being more playful. "I wish she looked like herself when I had to kiss her", like man. Okay. There's a lot of leeway you can give him but it's still odd.

Good faith: ??? I do struggle with this one. A friend of mine has the interpretation that this is an epic own of sorts, that by "always like this" Kabru meant "unable for me to hear you" so he likes not hearing what she says. Reardless, wether his assumption is accurate or not, Kabru is taunting/teasing when he says "look at me, not the mermaids", to what could have very well been just Rin noticing his staring and telling him to focus, and "You'd be cute if you were always like this", and like always he's very casual as he does it, says it like it's nothing, so it could mean nothing deeper. Bad faith: Why do you have to say any of this, what do you think it accomplishes, this counts as flirting in most books. It doesn't make her mood better, it doesn't shut her up, so I can only imagine Kabru simply enjoys doing this, it entertains him for one reason or another. Why do you keep calling her cute why is this a pattern that is forming. Neutral: Presumably, Rin is also unable to hear him since they all wear the earplugs. This would mean that beyond his gesturing, his words aren't meant for her to actually hear.

So.

My honest reaction:

Kabru what is this............. Huh. Kabru. What do you mean

The issue

It's less intimidating when analyzing each piece of interaction one by one to slowly form a wider picture, but it's still quite the puzzle. Because ultimately, what he feels for her aside, he is both pushing her away and encouraging her crush on him. He is both keeping her out and leading her on. He is both trying to keep a distance and throwing her bones to latch onto. And huh. Why though.

He's too socially savvy not to know Rin likes him right? Right? He even teases her about being jealous. He has to. He hassss to. And then obviously he has no intent of reciprocating. Especially since he's a huge flirt with anyone and Rin makes it clear she feels jealous.

Then, it feels kinda cruel...? You don't have to flirt, or taunt her because you know she likes you, and blow her off like that without ever having a serious talk. And like I said, shove your finger in there instead of kissing her. Did he do it because he prefers her being kissed over her puking? Was it out of pity? Throwing her crumbs of attention? Is him wanting her out of the elves' grasp just pity? Is it soooo easy for Kabru to tease her and kiss her despite having no feelings of his own, borderline mocking how deeply she loes him and what it means to her? Is doing all this "for her sake" too, like bringing her along was? Just. Free Rin. Free Rin of this.

In the end, what side of "does Kabru like Rin or not" you fall on pretty much depends on wether you favor a consistent "good faith" reading or a consistent "bad faith" reading, which impression you got while reading. But I hope I was able to show that both sides have reasons to think it and both are coherent interpretations of canon, neither are just being dense or difficult for the sake of it. A Kabru interpretation differs almost person to person. Personally I think the ambiguity itself is telling, which is why I usually land with a weird ambiguous situationship characterisation with them, they're a third secret thing and Kabru's feelings for her are complicated imo. He doesn't love her but he doesn't not love her etc. Dungeon Meshi largely lets the reader come up with their own interpretations of details, Kui herself said interpreting characters however is readers' freedom, and the story also avoids romance in general.

Although, there's debate as to wether he even leads her on at all, and personally I think it's pretty undeniable regardless of his intent, if anything even just going by effect.

All I can safely say is that this is not the behavior of someone smartly turning someone down.

Potential 'why's

BUT you could almost say he's purposefully trying to hurt her by being jokingly flirty and casual about it all, which could be to push her away and discourage her from pursuing him, wether it be for her sake or his own. It is a ship post, but I explore this stance a bit in my previous kabrin post if you're interested and unafraid of shippy brainstorming.

Or, inversely, maybe to him leading her on is a way to spare her feelings. Maybe he feels guilty about her liking him, or maybe he feels like he has to repay her somehow. Where his behavior when teasing her in early canon is rather provoking, most often I'd call his demeanor towards her placating if anything. We do see that Kabru prefers letting people down easy, except when shit is serious in the dungeon I guess, and he tries not to rattle people.

Personally, my favorite niche reading is I think it's his way of avoiding confrontation. He doesn't want to lose her, so he gives her just enough hope to hold onto so she'll keep following him, unknowing that Rin follows him out of a sense of duty of her own rather than romantic hope, because he always underestimates people's like of him like Laios does, assumes that people like him less than they seem because even when they do it's a version of him that's tailored to be likable. So he does this to keep the status quo going and keep her interested without having to reciprocate or commit.

I do think he also takes her for granted a bit. "Whenever she frowns I imagine it's a smile instead" what are you talking about. Like I said earlier, it feels weirdly dismissive and belittling to treat her anger as if it was something else, even assuming it to be joy- and there's merit to calling the anger Rin often shows a misdirected feeling, because yes, it's out of worry and care and love and she has a hard time emoting outside of a harsh-seeming scope etc, but is this what's going on here? His words leave me equally intrigued and concerned.

And like, her caring anger coupled by her nagging and scolding and looking after him unconditionally, I'm sure she does frustrate him sometimes and makes him feel stifled especially with his background at Milsiril's, making the big sister comparison very understandable... ... BUT THEN WHY LEAD HER ON.

What he could feel

Okay so first of. "She sort of feels like how it'd be like to have a big sister" and "I see her as a sister, I strictly see her as if we shared family ties and she was the blood of my blood" are different. Kabru being like "Man, I wished she looked like herself when I had to kiss her" does not feel like a brother-sister thing to me, personally.

But hey, going with the opposite angle too- "She's like a sister to me" can be an easy shorthand to say "I care about you but I don't see you romantically or sexually at all" and it can be "you are deeply important to me and our bond would remain no matter the distance or time we are apart" and even "I can't imagine my life without you (no romo)". In many languages like french, the word soulmate instead literally translates as 'sister soul', as in a twin soul etc etc-. A husband and a wife, too, are family. This is to say that both familial love and romantic love can run very deep, with a similar intensity just in a different nature, platonic or romantic. Kabru doesn't necessarily feel very strongly towards Rin even with the sister angle, but what I'm saying is that if it isn't just a catchphrase to let Rin down easy, whether something he would tell Rin or just something he tells himself, then it's not entirely out of the question Kabru would mix up the nature of that affection he feels for her. Maybe being childhood friends, he thinks it makes sense for it to be what he feels for her. I don't think this is necessarily farfetched because we see that Kabru neglects his own needs heavily for the sake of his goals, he doesn't recognize or acknowledge his needs for social connections or things like sleeping, cooking and keeping his living quarters orderly. I think it's in character for him to dismiss outright that he could be in love with someone, and even for him to suppress it, because he can't let anything be more important to him than preventing more Utaya tragedies. If you subscribe to the idea that Kabru wanted to be Laios' friend at the back of his mind, this is in line with that.

Regardless of the "truth"/intent, I agree Kabru treating 'his sister' Rin the way he did in canon is really mega major weirdo of him though.

He sees her as a sister, or he believes he does. With a romantic angle, it could mean: Denial, repression, having a bond that feels as deep and immutable. Leading her on because: wanting her near but still pushing her away, being interested and scared to admit it, thinking he shouldn't let himself have this, not interested but still wanting the safety net of her.

Again with my own interpretation, I think he loves her the way one loves a safety net. What I and others may mean when we say that we think Kabru doesn't love her but he also doesn't not love her. I think this is why he's both taking her for granted and caring, dismissive and considerate, her "brother figure" but also the guy who will flirt with her without a second thought. A safety net the way one is comforted by a big sister mayhaps, who's disapproving yet always unconditionally there to help. But family and comfort are so closely tied together, it's unsurprising they get entangled sometimes, a lot of behaviors can be seen as both romantic and familial and it's just a matter of the facts and perspective, because in the end what they are both is loving- and canonically, Rin loves Kabru romantically and Kabru cares for Rin like a sister.

Conclusion

I've said before that I think you can call them each other's best friend and that that's sad, and I stand by it. I think it's easy to argue that Rin is the one who knows Kabru best currently in his life, and the reverse is true for Kabru knowing Rin best. It's lonely, for both of them I think, Rin's kind of tough love is not working for him and Kabru is not filling Rin's emotional needs.

The reason why Kabru might feel like he has to get Rin out of the elves' grasp is because she has no one else, at least no one else that was deemed important enough to have been referred to or implied at all. And Rin calls him out for his shallow behavior and his unhealthy habits. They're close enough and weirding others around them enough that people like Mickbell notice when they heatedly do their song and dance and argue but hey, this is just another monday, and how Mickbell asumes she cleans his place up for him because that's what intuitively makes the most sense- it's the first thought, the most intuitive. Rin would do anything for Kabru and devotes herself to helping him, after all.

Reminder that this is the guy we're talking about:

I think her concern is worried tbh, he doesn't know what a DUST CLOTH is and he's pretty unhealthy, forgetting to eat and drinking to go to sleep, overworking himself. He'd easily work himself into an early grave. He neglects himself. I've said before in my Kuro x Kabru post that I think Kabru focuses so much on the bigger picture and saving the world that he forgets that he himself is important too, that he's truly special to some people, that he's even some people's hero, not just the world's, and I think to a degree it's good that Kabru has someone there to ground him and scold him when he's being thoughtless or overthinking, to try to show him that he's loved and valued, in her own way which he claims to understand so well like he does her smiles.

Kabru's a character where fan interpretations especially differ, he's hard to read when it comes to the details, so his relationship with Rin is very much a grey zone, especially when trying to precisely pin it down. I think though that it is a mistake to say that Rin isn't special to him in some shape or form.

I talk about human connections as a big theme of Dunmeshi sometimes, as this thing everyone needs but may deny themselves or deny that they do need and want, and Kabru and Rin are part of that theme, to me.

Post-canon, Rin and Kabru continue to see each other, presumably semi-regularly, which is an implication from an extra that we don't get with the other Kabru party members. They stay in touch, because what tied them together was never work but a personal tie.

This ask took long af to write up but it's gonna make my Kabru party analysis easier later yay. Little preview of the chart i made.

I'll remind that Mickbell and Kuro's relationship is also stated to be of a familial nature. Contradictions aren't always mistakes, people are made of them! Just like how ambiguity can be a narrative tool, complexity and dissonance can be a feature and not a bug.

[strawberry-daiquiris]

i'm sorry to make it about myself again

“What the fuck, are you doing here?” he spits, incredulous, as he flicks the big light on to illuminate them both. Him, and who he thinks at first is his Dad. “It won’t surprise you,” a voice that isn’t his Dad says. “To know that’s exactly what I thought, when it happened again.”

oscar/lando | M | future fic time travelling sequel to you signed up for this | 18k | here on ao3 note: this sequel has been a long, long time in the making - over a year, actually - and i'm as surprised as you that it's ended up without any double penetration, or even a (proper) sex scene.

there were so many ways i thought this fic would go, and most of them revolved around lando getting his own back for not being part of (og) older oscar's time travelling shenanigans. then i fell in love with their story and building the world they lived in and what i ended up with is 18,000 words of future fic where oscar considers the end of his career, with a bit of help from another, even older oscar.

here's to being in love in your thirties with your whole life ahead of you, even if it's a bit different to how you'd imagined it'd be at 23. <3

[sirpoopepic]

a proper danger days drawing!!!!!!! Finally..!!

This is a Drawing req from @gerard-ways-left-sock , it's supposed to be Gerard drinking from a contaminated river Xd

[pensivespacepirate]

The Silt Verses is a Comedy

[sanska]

It’s Valentines Day!!

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[batsplat]

why smallville luthor look like mirra andreeva

initially laughed and went 'no she doesn't', then checked and... anon, you may be onto something

[helmarok]

do not let that post flop yall i put my pussy my asshole my balls and everything into it

[disturb7a]

“i haven’t been kissed in six months.” you mutter, flopping dramatically onto gojo’s couch and fake a cry. your best friend, satoru gojo blinks at you from his spot on the opposite end of the couch, his long legs kicked up on the coffee table, one hand holding a half-eaten bag of chips, the other flipping through tv channels.

“that’s a tragedy,” he says, grinning. “a crime, even. someone could to go to jail for that.”

“yeah, well, welcome to my dating life. one tragic disappointment after another.” you sigh. it’s not like your always searching for a relationship, but god, 6 months!???

he tilts his head, that pretty face of his breaking into something evil and borderline mischievous. “maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places.” you roll your eyes and look at him through the corner of your eye. he chuckes. “satoru, don’t start. i already know what you’re gonna say.”

he raises a brow and places his hands on his chest, mock offended. “me? i’m innocent. i haven’t said a thing.” you snort out a laugh,“you’re practically thinking it. no, i’m not downloading tinder again. i’d rather die.”

satoru chuckles, that low, deep and amused sound that always makes your stomach flutter just a little, though you never admit that part. he’s been your best friend since you guys were five. he knows every dumb story, every secret, every time you’ve cried over someone who didn’t deserve it.

and still, he looks at you like you hung the moon. “okay, so no tinder,” he says. “no bad dick. no make out sessions. what do you want then?” you bury your face into a throw pillow and mumble, “i don’t know. something. someone.” he turns his face, his piercing blue eyes analyzing your face and he hums, soft and lazy. “you know,” he says slowly, “we could just kiss.”

you freeze. “satoru.”

“what?” he says, all innocence, as if he’s not offering to casually kiss you like it’s just another thursday evening. “who says we can’t kiss as friends?”

you sit up, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “uh, society? normal social boundaries?” he shrugs. “never cared much for those. you bite your lip. “you’re not serious.” his grin widens, lazy and dangerous. “deadly. come on, you’re hot, i’m hot. we’re both suffering. it’s just a kiss. for science.”

“for science?”

he nods, all playful charm. “yeah. a friendly experiment. no feelings. no expectations. just you and me. and our mouths.” you try to glare at him, but your lips are twitching. “this is the dumbest idea ever.”

“so that’s a yes?”

you hesitate, your heart’s pounding. it’s just a kiss, you tell yourself. it’s just gojo. you’ve known him forever. he’s always been touchy, flirty, a menace with a heart of gold. he’s held your hand when you were scared, carried you on his back when you twisted your ankle in college, made you laugh when you thought you’d never smile again. maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing. you sigh, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you glance back at him. “fine. one kiss. one.” his smile turns devilish. “scout’s honor.”

he shifts closer, your heart beats in anticipation, and suddenly he’s right there, in your space. his knees brush yours, his fingers reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“you sure?” he murmurs, and there’s a flicker of something softer in his voice, something that doesn’t feel quite so casual anymore. you nod, “yeah. i’m sure.”

his hand cups your cheek, thumb grazing your jaw, and then he leans in, slow and deliberate, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, but you don’t, you meet him halfway.

his lips are warm, soft, and good and feel way better than they should be. he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this, like he knows your mouth, like he wants to know more. it’s not a hesitant kiss. it’s deep, teasing, with just a little edge of cockiness that makes your toes curl and your stomach churn. his other hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer, and suddenly you’re not even thinking. your hands are in his hair, tugging a little, and he groans into your mouth, low and hungry. you gasp at the sound, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips.

your body reacts before your brain does. you’re flush against him, heart racing, hands trembling slightly as the kiss deepens. you pull back eventually, both of you a little breathless, your lips tingling, your skin hot. “…jesus,” you whisper.

gojo’s staring at you, eyes half-lidded and glowing with something unreadable. then he smirks. “see?” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “doesn’t hurt to kiss your friends”

heyyyyy 🥸🥸 a bitch is back hehehehe, i love bestfriend!gojo he’s so hot 🤸🏽‍♀️🤸🏽‍♀️🤸🏽‍♀️

[i2sunric]

𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌 (s.jy)

PAIRING: nerdy!jake x reader (f)

SUMMARY: well, it’s not your fault that your boyfriend is perfect, good at school, kind enough tutor you in math and so skilled in bed chem.

WARNINGS: smut. freshman college (they’re 19), jake lives with his parents, grinding, dirty talking, pet names (baby, jakey), manhandling, overstimulation, protected sex (wrap your willies guys), missionary, doggy, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 18th April 2025.

WC: 2.7k

TAGLIST: (permanent) TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @slut4hee

Jake’s room smelled of books, fresh laundry, and that faint scent of cologne he always wore— clean, crisp. It smelled like home. 

His desk was cluttered but organized in a way that made sense only to him: thick textbooks stacked neatly, a cup overflowing with pens and mechanical pencils, and his laptop open to what looked like an impossibly complicated physics simulation. 

You, on the other hand, were sprawled across his bed, your maths textbook abandoned beside you as you dramatically flopped onto your stomach.  

"Jake," you groaned, voice muffled against his pillow. "I’m going to fail this test, you have to accept that."  

You thought that after high school, all you problems would be resolves. What you didn’t expect, though, was to be forced to take an extra curricular trigonometry lecture that made you want to smash your head against the wall.

Jake, who was sitting at his desk, barely looked up. "You’re not going to fail," he said. "You just need to focus."  

"I have been focusing," you argued, rolling onto your back and stretching out like a starfish. "For, like, fifteen minutes."  

"Exactly," he deadpanned, finally turning to look at you. "That’s not nearly enough."  

You pouted. "But I hate math, it’s stupid and unnecessary. When am I ever going to need to find the limit of a function in real life?"  

Jake sighed, closing his book with a quiet thump. "Math is everywhere," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose, a habit of his that you found way too attractive. "It’s in physics, engineering, technology, everything that makes the world work."  

You rolled your eyes, sitting up. "Okay, Professor Sim, but I don’t want to make the world work.” You scoffed, “i just want to pass this stupid class and never think about numbers again."  

Jake gave you a pointed look. "And I want to make sure my girlfriend doesn’t flunk out of college."  

You grinned, crawling off the bed and walking over to him. "Speaking of your genius brain," you murmured, sliding into his lap without hesitation, straddling his thighs as his chair rolled back slightly from the sudden weight. "How’s your project going?"  

Jake tensed for half a second before exhaling, hands automatically settling on your waist to steady you. 

"It’s going well," he said, though his voice was already shifting, lower, rougher. "But I’ll never finish it if you keep distracting me."  

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "I’m just curious," you purred, looping your arms around his neck. "Tell me what you’re working on, baby."  

Jake sighed, but you could see the way his lips twitched, like he knew exactly what you were doing and was helpless against it anyway.  

"Fine," he said, adjusting his glasses again. "I’m designing a new type of microprocessor, something that can process data faster and more efficiently than the ones currently in use..."  Blah blah blah. 

You weren’t really listening, if you were being honest. 

You liked hearing him talk, loved the way his voice got all passionate when he explained something he cared about, but the actual words? They went right over your head.  

Instead, you focused on the way his hands, so warm and steady, were resting on your waist. Absentminded, like he wasn’t really paying attention, he traced slow circles against the fabric of your sweater, fingertips dipping just beneath the hem to brush against your bare skin.  

You bit your lip, shifting slightly on his lap. "Mmm, keep going."  

Jake didn’t seem to register what you were doing at first. "Right, so,  the idea is that instead of using classical bits, ones and zeroes, you use qubits—"  Again more smart words. 

You rocked against him, slow, almost imperceptible, but enough. Jake inhaled sharply, fingers digging into your skin.  

You smirked. "Go on," you teased.  

His jaw clenched. "You’re evil."  

You hummed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "No, I just really like hearing you talk, baby."  

His hands flexed on your waist, like he was debating something. Then, as if giving in, he exhaled a low chuckle. "You’re such a fucking brat," he muttered, and the way his voice dropped made heat pool between your thighs.s

He moved one hand up, running it along your spine, pushing your sweater up just enough to expose more of your skin to the cool air. The other hand slid lower, gripping your thigh as you ground against him again.  

"You’re not even listening, are you?" he murmured, his lips grazing your ear now.  "Not really," you admitted, breathless.  

His grip tightened, guiding your movements now, encouraging you to move against him with more purpose. "You just like teasing me, huh?"  

"Mmh," you hummed, pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips, then his jaw, then his throat. "I like how worked up you get."  

Jake let out a soft curse under his breath, his hips shifting up just slightly to meet yours. "You’re lucky I love you," he muttered, voice strained.  

You grinned. "I know."  

Then, finally, he broke. His lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping you tighter as he deepened the kiss, swallowing the little sounds you made as you melted into him. 

His glasses pressed against your cheek, cool against your flushed skin, but neither of you cared.  

"You drive me crazy," he murmured against your lips, his breath warm, his hands wandering. "Always so fucking needy."  

You whimpered, rolling your hips again, and he groaned "Jakey," you breathed.  

He exhaled shakily, then kissed you again, hungrier this time, like he couldn’t get enough. "You should be studying," he muttered between kisses, even as he ran his hands up your thighs, pushing your sweater higher.  

You smirked. "Make me."  

And, oh, he did.

Jake groaned against your lips, his grip on your waist firm as he lifted you from his lap, standing up with you in his arms. 

Your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, and you buried your face in his neck, feeling his pulse race under your lips.  Your core pulsated with need, and he could feel it even through your shorts. 

"You’re gonna be the death of me," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and desire as he carried you across the room.  

Jake pushed your math book on the floor, and he laid you down, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you again,, like he’d been holding back for too long. 

His hands roamed, slipping under your sweater, pushing it up over your ribs. You arched your back, helping him, and he pulled it off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside.  

"Fuck," he breathed, eyes raking over you. His glasses had slid down his nose, and he pushed them up absentmindedly before leaning down to kiss you again.  

His hands moved with practiced precision, knowing exactly where to touch, where to squeeze, how to make you shiver beneath him. 

His fingers brushed over your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your shorts before he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and dragged them down along with your panties,leaving you bare beneath him.  

"You really don’t like making things easy for me, do you?" he murmured, fingers tracing up your inner thigh. 

You smirked, breathless. "Where’s the fun in that?"  

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, but it was strained, like he was barely holding himself together. 

He sat back for a second, pulling off his sweater in one swift motion, revealing the toned muscle beneath. 

His skin was warm under your fingers as you reached up, running your hands over his stomach, his chest, feeling him tense beneath your touch.  

"Condom," he muttered, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand.  You groaned, letting your head fall back against the pillow. "You always do this."  

"Yeah," he said, tearing the foil packet open with his teeth, "because I’m not stupid."  

You pouted. "I’m on the pill."  

"And I like knowing you’re safe." He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours, his glasses sliding down again. "Quit pouting."  

You sighed dramatically but let him roll the condom on, watching as his long fingers worked quickly.  

Then he was over you again, lips on your neck, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he lined himself up.  "You have to be quiet," he murmured, his voice rough as he kissed along your jaw.  

"Or what?" you teased, just to test him.  

Jake exhaled sharply, then pushed into you in one slow, deep stroke. Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping his shoulders as your back arched off the bed.  

"Or I’ll make you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.  

Your eyes fluttered shut as he started moving, slow at first, like he was savoring every inch of you, but then he set a pace that had you struggling to keep quiet. 

He knew what he was doing, exactly how to angle his hips to make your breath stutter, exactly how to roll his hips so you were gripping at his arms, trying so hard not to moan too loudly.  

His glasses fogged up from how close he was, the heat between you making them useless, but he didn’t stop to take them off. 

You did it for him, reaching up with trembling fingers and sliding them off his face, setting them aside on the nightstand.  

He thanked you with a warm smile. 

His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with desire, met yours as he thrust deeper, harder, stealing the air from your lungs. His hand came up, covering your mouth as you let out a soft whimper, muffling the sound.  

"Shh," he murmured, his voice like gravel against your skin. "Don’t want my mother hearing how good I’m fucking you, do you?"  

You shook your head, but your body betrayed you, your nails digging into his back as he snapped his hips into you again. It was all too much.  

You clenched around him, your thighs trembling as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. Jake cursed under his breath, feeling you squeeze around him, and his grip on your hip tightened as he sped up, chasing your release.  

"Come for me," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I wanna feel you."  

That was all it took. 

Your body tensed, pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave as you bit down on his hand to keep from crying out. Your vision blurred, your fingers digging in his skin as you came undone beneath him.  

Jake groaned, his movements faltering for half a second before he found his rhythm again, his thrusts rougher now, more desperate. 

He grabbed your leg, hooking it over his hip, pushing deeper, hitting that spot that had you gasping against his palm.  

He hadn’t slowed down. His rhythm was deep, fast, relentless. the bed creaking under both of your weight, the headboard softly hitting the wall in time with his thrusts.

You were still whimpering from your second orgasm, your thighs trembling around his waist, your nails digging red crescents into his shoulder blades. Your breath hitched, another moan slipping past your lips before you could stop it. “Jakey! oh—” 

His hand came up instantly, covering your mouth again, palm warm and firm.

“Quiet,” he hissed against your cheek. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

Your body arched off the bed beneath him, mouth smothered by his hand, eyes rolling back from the sheer pressure, the stretch, the heat. Your muffled cries only made him thrust harder.

“You like this, huh?” he breathed, watching your every twitch, every gasp, every time you tried to cry out under his hand. “You like when I fuck you like this.”

You nodded desperately, the pleasure building again even though your body felt like it couldn’t take more. Your skin burned, your thighs ached, but none of it mattered. Jake was everything— all you could feel, all you could hear, all you could take.

You released against him, hard, back arching as your whole body seized up and shuddered. Your vision blurred. You felt tears sting your lashes, your voice cracking beneath his hand as your second orgasm ripped through you.

He grunted, letting his hand slide away from your mouth only when your cries became soft gasps His lips found yours in a hungry, breathless kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth like he couldn’t stand even a second of distance.

“Shit,” he panted, pulling back just a little to brush his hair from his eyes. He kissed your jaw, your throat, sucking a mark just below your ear before whispering, “Turn over for me.”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “Jake, I can’t—” 

“You can,” he said firmly, kissing you again. “Just one more, baby, you’re doing so good.”

And because it was him uou obeyed.

You turned, limbs shaky, chest pressed to the mattress, ass in the air as you grabbed onto the pillow and buried your face into it. Jake groaned softly behind you.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he muttered, dragging his fingers over your lower back, down to your ass, squeezing firmly. “Messy and fucked out… all for me.”

You felt him line himself up again, the blunt head of his cock sliding through your slick folds before pushing into you in one hard thrust that had you biting into the pillow to stifle a scream.

“Oh my God… Jake.”

“Shhh,” he hushed you, hand curling around your hip to pull you back into him, setting a brutal pace that left your legs shaking, your voice broken into helpless sobs. “You have to be quiet.”

“I can’t,” you cried into the pillow, half-laughing, half-sobbing from how good it felt, how completely he wrecked you. “Jake— it’s too much—”

“You’re taking it so well,” he said, voice strained, one hand gripping your waist while the other slid up your spine, pushing between your shoulder blades to press you further into the mattress. “So fucking good for me.”

His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, dragging cries from you no matter how hard you tried to bite them back. You fisted the sheets, knuckles white, body trembling as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot over and over again until your legs gave out.

Jake leaned down, chest against your back, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “You pretend to be all innocent, all shy in front of everyone… but in here? With me? You just want to be ruined.”

You moaned, louder than you meant to, and he growled, his hand flying to your mouth again, fingers pressing your cheek into the pillow.

“You don’t listen,” he hissed, thrusting harder, until the sound of skin against skin echoed through the room. “You want my mother to hear how desperate you are for my cock?”

You shook your head wildly, sobbing beneath his hand as he slammed into you again, and again, and again, until your entire body clenched and your mind blanked. One last orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and dizzying, tearing a scream from your throat that was completely muffled by his palm.

Jake groaned into your neck, biting your shoulder as he came hard, his body collapsing against yours, twitching with aftershocks as he held you tightly, his breath loud and shaky in your ear.

You both stayed like that for a moment, tangled, gasping, hearts pounding like they wanted to leap out of your chests.

Jake pulled out gently, sighing contentedly as he rolled to the side and took the condom off, tying it quickly and tossing it into the bin beside the bed.

He turned to you immediately, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your exhausted body. Your skin was damp with sweat, your legs trembling, your eyes heavy with sleep and satisfaction.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together, sweat-slicked and trembling.  

Jake finally lifted his head, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed. He looked wrecked, but somehow, still devastatingly handsome.  

"You okay?" he murmured, pushing your hair out of your face.  

You nodded, still catching your breath. "Mh.. It was so good.”

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "You are a menace."  

You smirked. "You love it."  

"You’re exhausting," he muttered, but his arm was already tightening around you, pulling you close.  

You grinned, snuggling into his chest. "You love that too."  

Jake sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Yeah," he admitted softly. "I really do."

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: First Years (-Ortho)

Other parts: Housewardens ; Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Ace Trappola

The argument wasn’t loud—no yelling, no dramatic walkouts—just tense words exchanged with a little too much bite. Ace had been his usual smug self, which, unsurprisingly, only made you more pissed off.

So, rather than continue arguing, you grabbed a blanket, stomped off to the couch, and flopped down with a huff. If he wanted to be insufferable, fine. He could enjoy the bed all to himself.

You had just started arranging the cushions when you heard footsteps.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, a pillow dropped onto the couch beside yours, and Ace casually sprawled out like he had been invited.

You blinked. “Ace??”

He glanced at you, completely at ease. “What? We’re sleeping here tonight, right?”

You stared at him, then at the couch, then back at him. “We?”

Ace, the menace that he was, patted the tiny sliver of space beside him like he hadn’t just hijacked your whole plan.

You gawked at him. “You have an entire bed.”

“Yeah, but you’re here.”

“That’s the point, Ace!”

He had the audacity to grin. “Exactly. So, obviously, I’m here too.”

You gaped at him, absolutely stunned at the sheer level of his nonsense. Meanwhile, he just folded his arms behind his head, getting even more comfortable.

You glared. He grinned wider.

Then, after a long moment, he scratched his cheek, his bravado slipping just a little. “...Okay, maybe I should’ve asked first.” He glanced at you, a little sheepish. “But, uh. I don’t like going to bed when you’re mad at me. So… can I stay?”

The worst part? He actually looked kind of earnest. Like he meant it. Like this wasn’t just another one of his schemes to get his way, but something real.

Your irritation wavered. Damn it.

With a dramatic sigh, you gave in, flopping down beside him.

Ace, the absolute menace, beamed like he had just won the lottery. Then, without missing a beat, he threw an arm around you and pulled you right into his chest.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumbled against his hoodie.

“Mm. But cuddly, right?”

“…Shut up.”

He snickered, pressing a quick, lazy kiss to your forehead. “Love you too.”

And, annoyingly enough, you found yourself smiling as you drifted off—because, as much as he drove you insane, Ace Trappola was impossible to stay mad at.

Deuce Spade

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no dramatic exits—just an exchange of clipped words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Deuce had been tense, his frustration clear in the way he crossed his arms, in the tightness of his jaw. You weren’t much better, snapping back at him until the conversation hit a dead end, leaving you both too stubborn to fix it in the moment.

So, rather than risk making it worse, you grabbed a blanket and went to the couch, throwing yourself onto it with the kind of determination that came from being just annoyed enough to stick to your decision. You adjusted the pillows, tucked the blanket around yourself, and ignored the way the room felt too quiet now.

Behind you, there was a pause. A shuffle of feet. Deuce lingered, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, trying to get comfortable. It didn’t work. The couch was fine, but it wasn’t your bed. And the silence—the weight of the unspoken apology hanging between you—only made it worse.

You half-expected Deuce to just go to bed, to let you sleep off your irritation. But then—soft footsteps. Hesitant, careful. He stopped just behind the couch, lingering for a moment before speaking.

“…Can you come back?”

His voice was quieter now, no longer laced with frustration, just uncertainty.

You didn’t move.

A longer pause. Then, softer, “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, already halfway to turning around, ready to tell him that you were sorry too, that this was stupid, that you just wanted to sleep—

Then you heard it. A quiet sniffle.

Your heart lurched.

You shot up, turning so fast the blanket nearly slipped off. Deuce was standing there, head slightly bowed, arms tense at his sides. He wasn’t crying, not really, but his eyes were red-rimmed, his breathing unsteady, his lips pressed together like he was trying to keep everything in.

Oh.

Your frustration vanished instantly.

“Deuce,” you breathed, already reaching for him.

He stiffened for a moment when your fingers brushed his wrist, but then, slowly, he let you pull him toward the bed. He didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. The second you both reached the mattress, you wrapped your arms around him, tugging him close, feeling the way his shoulders finally relaxed under your touch.

His breath shuddered against your skin. He held onto you tightly, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. You squeezed him in return, as he pressed his face into your neck, letting the warmth between you say what words couldn’t.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured after a long moment, his voice quieter, steadier.

You ran your hand down his back, a slow, soothing motion. “Me too.”

His breathing evened out, his grip loosening just slightly. Neither of you spoke after that. There wasn’t a need to. You just held him, letting the warmth settle, letting the tension fade.

Jack Howl

The argument had been sharper than usual—words exchanged with too much heat, frustration lacing every syllable. Jack’s ears had flattened, his tail flicking sharply behind him, while your own patience had worn thin.

Neither of you had raised your voice, but the weight of it had been enough. Enough that when silence finally fell between you, it felt like standing on the edge of something unsteady.

So, in an act of pure pettiness, you had grabbed a blanket and stormed off to the couch, settling in with all the stubborn determination of someone who refused to be the first to cave. You curled up, pulling the blanket tight around yourself, pointedly ignoring the way the room still felt charged with unresolved tension.

For a while, there was nothing. No footsteps following, no hushed words attempting to fix things. Just silence. You shifted, adjusting the pillow beneath your head, exhaling sharply. Fine. If Jack wanted to sleep alone tonight, so be it.

Then—the faintest creak of the floorboards.

You blinked, turning over just enough to peer into the dim light of the living room. Jack was there, sitting stiffly on the couch opposite you, his arms crossed, tail curled loosely around the edge of the cushion. He didn��t look at you directly, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, expression unreadable.

You furrowed your brows. “…What are you doing?”

His ears twitched. A beat of hesitation. Then, a quiet, gruff reply.

“Go to sleep. I’m just keeping watch.”

Something in your chest ached at that. Even after the argument, after the sharp words exchanged, he was still looking out for you. He always did.

You sighed, sitting up, the tension in your body already loosening. “Jack.”

He glanced at you then, ears flicking back slightly, wary.

Without another word, you stood, dragging the blanket with you as you crossed the room. Jack stiffened slightly when you reached for his wrist, but he didn’t pull away. You tugged, gentle but firm.

“Come back to bed.”

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he let himself be pulled up, following you without resistance.

The moment you both settled back onto the mattress, his tail curled around you instinctively, pulling you just that much closer. The warmth of it, of him, seeped into your skin, comforting in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

A quiet exhale. Then, low, barely above a whisper—

“…I’m sorry.”

You pressed closer, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry too.”

Neither of you said anything after that. There was no need to. The steady rise and fall of his breath, the solid weight of his arm draped over you, the way his tail tightened slightly before finally relaxing—everything else could wait.

For now, this was enough.

Epel Felmier

The argument had spiraled out of control so fast that you barely remembered how it even started. One second, it was just a disagreement—sharp words exchanged, but nothing too serious. And then, all at once, it was a mess, voices raised, frustration bleeding into every syllable.

You had hit your limit first. Not because you didn’t have more to say, but because you were just too tired. Too tired to keep fighting, too tired to keep letting the hurt simmer in your chest. So, without another word, you had grabbed a blanket and settled on the couch, turning your back to the bedroom.

The anger still sat heavy in your stomach, but beneath it, sadness gnawed at the edges. You hated arguing with him. Hated the way silence felt like a wall between you now. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to just sleep through it, to let the exhaustion pull you under.

It worked—for a while.

Then, the sharp clatter of pans yanked you back into consciousness.

You blinked blearily, registering the soft muttering, the sound of something nearly toppling over, the distinct smell of something cooking. Still wrapped in your blanket, you dragged yourself off the couch, stumbling toward the kitchen.

Epel was standing at the stove, back turned to you, gripping a pan with slightly unsteady hands. His hair was still messy from sleep, and even though his voice was quiet, you could hear the edge of frustration in the low curses under his breath.

You hesitated in the doorway, taking in the scene. The counter was a mess, a dish towel discarded haphazardly, the remnants of a nearly-spilled carton of eggs sitting precariously close to the edge.

At the sound of your footsteps, he stiffened slightly. Then, without turning, he muttered, “Go back to bed. I’ll bring it to you.”

His voice was rough, but not unkind. Just strained.

You stepped closer, noticing the way his shoulders were set too tight, the way his fingers clenched the pan handle like he was trying to steady himself. And when he finally turned just enough that you could see his face—he still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Your heart clenched.

Without thinking, you reached forward, gently prying his fingers from the pan. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. The moment his hands were free, they hovered awkwardly at his sides—until, in one swift motion, he grabbed you and held on tight.

His arms wrapped around you, his grip desperate, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, breath warm against your skin as he exhaled shakily.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with something heavy. “I shouldn’t’ve pushed you that hard. Shouldn’t’ve let it get that bad.”

You softened instantly, guilt pressing at the edges of your own frustration. You wrapped your arms around him just as tightly, hands smoothing over his back. “I’m sorry too.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just holding onto each other, letting the warmth settle between you.

Then, after a pause, you murmured, “C’mon. You’re gonna burn the eggs.”

Epel let out a small laugh against your shoulder before finally pulling back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, alright.”

You nudged him toward the stove, settling beside him. Together, you finished making breakfast, the quiet weight between you easing with every passing second.

Sebek Zigvolt

The argument had been bad. Worse than usual. Sebek had always been intense, but tonight had been different—his voice sharper, his stance rigid with frustration, his words carrying the weight of something neither of you had been willing to back down from.

So you had done the only thing you could think of before either of you said something you’d truly regret. You left.

Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off to the couch, body still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. You barely managed to settle in before you heard heavy footsteps marching straight toward you.

Then, a firm voice cut through the quiet.

“Take the bed.”

You cracked an eye open, already exhausted. Sebek stood at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, expression unyielding. His stance was as rigid as ever, but there was something beneath the surface—something uncertain, something hesitant.

You exhaled through your nose and turned over, pulling the blanket higher. “Go to sleep, Sebek.”

“I will. Once you’re in the bed where you belong.”

You groaned, but before you could snap at him, he was suddenly kneeling beside the couch, eyes burning with unshaken resolve. His voice dropped lower, quieter, the sharpness softened at the edges.

“A knight cannot allow their beloved to sleep on the couch. It is unbecoming. Please.” His jaw tightened for a moment before he exhaled and added, “I… I should not have let it get this far. I should not have raised my voice at you.” His head bowed slightly, shoulders stiff. “I am sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Sebek was loud. He was brash. He was stubborn beyond reason. But kneeling there, humbled in the quiet glow of the moonlight, his apology raw and unguarded—you felt your own frustration ebb.

Slowly, you sat up, watching the way his hands clenched against his knees. And then, instead of answering, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

Sebek froze.

Then, before he could react, you grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged.

He let out a startled noise as you dragged him onto the couch, his balance thrown as he landed beside you. The couch was too small—he was too tall, too broad, and neither of you fit properly. But you didn’t care.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, pressing against his chest, letting his warmth ease the last remnants of your anger.

Sebek let out a strangled sound, arms hovering as if unsure whether to hold you or allow you to push him away. When you didn’t, when you simply curled closer, his hesitation melted.

With a deep exhale, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could wrap his arms around you. His hold was steady, protective, his warmth seeping into your bones.

“…This couch is entirely unsuitable for sleeping,” he grumbled, but his voice had lost its earlier edge.

You huffed a quiet laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Then go to bed.”

A pause.

“…No.”

You smiled against the fabric of his shirt, and he squeezed you a little tighter. The couch was too small, the position awkward, but as long as he was holding you, it was enough.

Masterlist

[jellofish-plant]

Proof of Existence

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader Summary: You were used to waiting up for Jason after patrol, but you weren’t expecting Robin to be the one to climb through your window instead. Damian Wayne is determined to prove that Jason was lying about having a girlfriend, and unfortunately, that means invading your apartment at an ungodly hour. Things only escalate when he calls in reinforcements, and by the time Jason actually arrives, he finds you in the middle of a full-blown Wayne family interrogation.

Warnings: Fluff, sleep deprivation, Batfamily chaos, Jason being grumpy but soft

[Masterlist]

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you glanced at the clock. 2:37 AM.

Jason was late. Again.

You weren’t exactly worried he was Red Hood, after all but you hated waiting up for him, exhaustion pulling at your limbs while the city lights flickered outside your window.

You barely had time to close your eyes before you heard a rustling noise near the fire escape. Immediately alert, you tensed, but before you could reach for your phone, the window slid open.

A small, caped figure landed silently in your living room.

You blinked. “You’re not Jason.”

Damian Wayne Robin, Gotham’s tiniest menace straightened up, arms crossed over his chest as he scrutinized you with a critical gaze.

“So you are real,” he muttered.

You stared at him, still half-asleep. “Excuse me?”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Todd claims he has a girlfriend. I assumed it was a delusion. But…” He took a step closer, inspecting you like a rare specimen. “You exist.”

“Uh… yeah?” you said slowly, watching as he started pacing around the apartment.

“This is unfortunate,” he muttered to himself.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It’s almost three in the morning, Damian. Did you break in just to confirm I’m not imaginary?”

“I could have waited for Todd to bring you to the Manor, but that would’ve taken forever.” Damian wandered over to the bookshelf, tilting his head as he scanned the titles. “Hmph. Your taste in literature is acceptable.”

“Oh, thank God, I was really losing sleep over that one,” you deadpanned.

Damian ignored you, already moving to your kitchen. He opened the fridge, scowled, then closed it again. “You don’t eat enough protein.”

You groaned, flopping onto the couch. “Jason is going to kill you when he finds out you’re here.”

“Tt. I doubt it.”

Unfortunately, before you could kick him out, he pulled a communicator from his belt.

“You’re not—”

Too late.

“Drake, come in. I have urgent news,” Damian said, voice completely serious.

There was a brief static crackle before a groggy voice responded. “Damian, it’s late. What could possibly—”

“She’s real.”

Silence.

Then—“No f**ing way.”*

You groaned loudly, covering your face with a pillow.

A few minutes later, your front door actually opened, this time with a key Tim Drake, still in his Red Robin suit but looking like he regretted every decision that led him here.

“Oh my God,” Tim breathed, staring at you like he’d just seen a ghost. “Jason actually has a girlfriend.”

“Why does everyone think I’m fake?” you demanded.

Tim grinned. “Because Jason refuses to let us meet you. Honestly, I thought you were just an excuse for him to leave family dinners early.”

Damian huffed. “As if Todd would be clever enough for that.”

You sighed. “Okay. Great. Mystery solved. You guys can leave now—”

Knock knock.

Oh, come on.

The door opened again, and in strolled none other than Dick Grayson—Nightwing himself—looking far too excited for this hour.

“Ohhhh, this is fantastic,” he said, beaming as he took in the scene. “We finally have proof! Jason’s not making it up!”

“I hate all of you,” you grumbled, pulling Jason’s discarded hoodie over your head as if that could make them all disappear.

“Are you being held against your will?” Dick asked, only half-joking.

“No, but I will commit a crime if you don’t let me sleep.”

Before Dick could respond, the window slammed open again.

“What the hell is going on?”

Jason stood on the fire escape, mask half-off, hair a mess, and murder in his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Jason,” Tim greeted casually. “Nice place.”

Jason’s eye twitched. “Are you—why—” He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “It is three in the goddamn morning.”

“Yes, I noticed,” you said dryly.

Jason turned to you, taking in the way you looked tired, wrapped in his hoodie, blanket half-falling off the couch. His jaw tightened. “Baby, why are you still up?”

You gestured vaguely to the three idiots in your apartment. “Ask them.”

Jason’s glare could’ve set the building on fire. “What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Confirming she’s real,” Damian said simply.

Jason groaned. “Are you kidding me? You—” He pointed at Damian. “Go home. You—” Now at Tim. “Stop enabling this. And you—” Dick raised his hands before Jason could finish.

“Relax, Jaybird,” Dick said, smirking. “We’re just excited to meet the girl you’ve been hiding.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate all of you.”

“Are you two really dating?” a new voice cut through.

Stephanie Brown Batgirl was standing by the window now, her blonde hair messy from a night’s patrol. She crossed her arms, raising a brow at you. “I’m sorry, but I had to see for myself. I really thought it was just some weird ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m just here for the popcorn,” Duke Thomas The Signal grinned from the doorway, joining the chaos with his own brand of enthusiasm.

Jason stood frozen, arms crossed, looking like he was about to explode. “This is not happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” Dick teased, leaning in and nudging Jason. “You can’t hide her anymore.”

Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “I swear to God…”

“Jason, relax,” you said, trying to calm him down, but your voice still laced with amusement. “Your family’s just a little... excited.”

Jason turned to you, his expression softening just a little. “I’m sorry, baby.” He pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t expect them to turn up like this, but…” He shot his family one last glare before pulling you closer. “I think I need some alone time with my girlfriend now.”

Everyone groaned in unison.

“You know what, fine,” Tim sighed, pushing himself off the wall. “We’ve gotten the proof we need. No more interruptions. You two have a good night.”

“You guys are the worst,” you muttered, laughing as Jason huffed beside you.

And when they finally filed out, leaving you alone with Jason, you sank back into his arms, letting the chaos of the Batfamily fade into the background.

Jason chuckled softly, kissing the top of your head. “Well, at least they like you.”

You smirked. “Yeah, I think I’ve officially been inducted into the Batfamily now.”

Jason snorted. “They’ll never leave us alone again, will they?”

“Not unless we’re really convincing at family dinners,” you teased.

Jason sighed, but there was a fond look in his eyes. “Maybe we’ll make a run for it next time.”

You laughed softly. “Sounds like a plan.”

[wooahaes]

if she ends up flopping btw its ok i am fine w it <3

[xoxo-sarah]

My Wife

Part 2 | part 3

↝a/n: 2,605 w/c... I like this one, guys.

↝pairing: Season 1!Daryl x wife!reader

↝warning: usual walking dead stuff, angst, animal death (mentions blood. No details), reader being sexualized?, creepy men, harassment, the creepy guy getting punched (he deserved it), cursing, protective Daryl, Merle (ew), crying, moody and soft Daryl, sassy Daryl (it's season one, what do you expect?), slightly proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 10.2.24

Daryl Dixon masterlist

Before the apocalypse, you'd say your life wasn't bad. You had a decent job that paid well. A husband, a dog, and a house you owned all on your own, without any help from your parents.

You had met Daryl fresh out of college. He was staying with Merle at the time. In a rush to get away from your parents, you found a rent-to-own house on the outskirts of Atlanta. It wasn't extravagant, only having 2 beds and one bath. It was still a house-your house.

The first time you went to the grocery store to stock up before you started work since the big move, an old man had hit on you. Daryl listened from afar, not wanting to cause any more trouble for you. He knew you hadn't been in these parts of town before, he hadn't seen you before.

After many attempts at shooting the guy down, Daryl had to intervene. The guy had grabbed your arm, and before you knew it, the guy was backing away from you.

“She said she's not interested.”

“My bad, man. Didn't know she was yours.” He raised his hands, grin still on his face. It was a game to him.

“So you only take no for an answer if I 'belong' to someone?” Venom laced your voice, disgust painted into the wrinkles between your eyebrows and frown lines, glaring through the guy. A chuckle rumbled out of his chest, followed by a smoker's cough that told you he had more tar in his lungs than he had sense in his brain.

“Ma'am, will all due respect-”

“I doubt anything respectful comes out of that raunchy mouth of yours.”

His grin dropped, eyes slanting in your direction. “This one sure has a mouth on her,” his attention moved back to Daryl. “She have that mouth in the sack?”

You scoffed, glancing down at the floor, collecting the words you wanted to shoot back at him.

In the time you looked away, Daryl had put the 12-pack of beer down and swung. You snapped your head up at the sound of a fist colliding with a cheek. Daryl glared, spitting at the man as he held his cheek in shock. “Give the lady some respect, prick.”

“Damnit, Dixon!” An elderly man came running down the aisle, a manager tag clinking against the pins on his shirt. Safe to say both men had been kicked out.

After checking out, you caught sight of Daryl hunched over, looking at his bruising knuckles.

“Here's for helping me.”

Daryl's head shot up, eyes flickering to the 12-pack in your outstretched hand. “Ya didn't have to.”

“You didn't have to.” He shrugged, taking the box from you.

the rest was history.

You eventually got together, then, moved in together. He supported you in your job, making jokes about you “bringing home the bacon”. The only downside was his brother.

“Damnit, Merle.”

An intoxicated Merle flopped on your couch, cackling up at Daryl. You watched from behind the couch, arms folded across Daryl's shirt draping over your form. Daryl's own top half was bare, his muscles flexing when he folded his arms in disappointment, glaring down.

“What? Did I interrupt you 'n your housewife duties?”

You scoffed, turning around to walk back to your room, the dog Daryl had gotten you for your birthday following after you. Merle watched your movement, lowly whistling. “I'd be a housewife for that piece, too.”

Daryl grabbed the collar of Merle's shirt, bringing him to eye level. “Don't talk about my wife like that.” He threw him back against the couch, “You're out by the mornin'.”

The world had gone to shit right in the middle of your workday. Everyone was running around, yelling and panicking. You tried making a beeline for your car, getting pushed and pulled every which way. The traffic was the worst you had ever seen, when you had finally made your way onto the road.

When you finally got home, the door was open.

You rushed in, looking in every room. There was no sign of Daryl besides the place being completely trashed, in a rush to leave. He wasn't there. You had no clue where he was, if he was safe, if he knew what was happening.

You cracked the backdoor open, nearly falling to your knees. A body laid on the back porch, blood dried on its way down the person's forehead. A lump of fur and blood was right beside it. A sob racked your body on your way back to your car. Your knuckles were ghostly white as they gripped the steering wheel, as you made your way out of town, away from the life you worked hard to get and worked harder to keep.

You eventually got stuck in even more traffic. Everything only got worse when your car ran out of gas.

You had to hide in the city, which was run with zombies. Luckily for you, you had found a few bodies that hadn't turned yet, stealing anything that could be used as a weapon. You were able to stay safe, hiding in an empty office building. Living off of the vending machines and what was left in the break rooms.

You regularly walked up to the roof, getting fresh air, wondering where Daryl had gone and if he was thinking of you. Sure, a part of you wanted to be mad at him for leaving without you, but you knew he had to have his reasons. Merle had to of made him run away with him when the news first got out.

While you looked over the edge, watching as dead bodies herded together, feasting on whatever had run into the city on your way up here, you saw quick movement to your left. Swirling around, you held your gun up, pointing it at the kid in front of you.

“Woah, Hey! I'm alive- I'm alive! Not going to hurt you.” The poor boy might as well have been shivering in his boots. His hands shook in the air. He was probably the third person you've seen, alive, since you squatted in the top floor. He didn't seem like the guy to kill you just to take your stuff. “Look, there's a guy in the tank down there. I'm just trying to help him.” You thought back to the sounds of pained neighing you heard when you first stepped onto the roof, but you had shrugged it off, figuring you were going insane already. No sleep and being isolated will do that to you. “C'mon, dude.” He was practically begging you to not shoot him in the head.

What would Daryl do in this situation? He wouldn't just trust anyone when it comes to survival. You reluctantly put your gun down, watching as he sighed in relief. You hid the shake in your hands when they fell to your sides, not wanting him to know you didn't want to kill him even if he were dangerous.

“We have to get down there to help him.” The boy leaned over the edge, at the tank and the 'geeks' that surrounded it.

“We?”

He looked back at you, then to the tank. “The extra help would be appreciated.”

Somehow, you followed after him, climbing down fire escapes and counting the amount of bodies in each alleyway. He was quick, but you kept up with him with ease.

He led you down the alleyway, hiding behind the trashcans and gate separating you and a painful death. “You have good aim? I need you to shoot that big guy closest to the tank.” He whispered, fixing the hat on his head.

You glanced at him, watching as he awaited your next move. You whispered back, “it's empty.” You held the gun up in emphasis. You weren't going to tell him that when it was pointed at him. He huffed, throwing his head back. “I only have a knife.”

He shrugged off his backpack, grabbing the empty gun and throwing it in there. It was useless with no bullets, and it only took up a hand, making it harder for you to climb.

“Alright, change of plans.” He grabbed the walkie, bringing it to his mouth before pressing the button. “Hey, you alive in there?”

A frantic voice broke through the static, “Hello? Hello?!”

The next thing you knew, you were running downstairs with the young boy, Glenn, you had figured out, and the guy you nearly died saving, Rick. Glenn led you two to another alleyway, before the door to the building in front of you busted open, 2 people filing out with gear and helmets on, attacking the walkers wondering in front of you.

“Lets go!” Glenn jumped over the bodies on the ground, running through the door, you and Rick following. As soon as you were through the door, you were pushed to the other side of the wall, before Rick was pushed back, a gun aimed at his face. “You son of a bitch! We ought to kill you.” A blonde woman was seething, ready to put a bullet in Rick's head.

“Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.” One of the guys who bashed the walker's head in pulled off the armor, glaring at the blonde.

“Come on, ease up.”

“Ease up? You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of this stupid asshole.” The gun was pointed at you next, “And her.” Her finger twitched on the trigger, but you were at a loss of words.

“She helped.” Glenn was ignored.

“Andrea, I said, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger.” The same guy from before stepped forward, closer to Andrea. It was silent for a second, before Andrea dropped her hand, lips quivering with oncoming tears. You took a breath, having the room to do so when a gun isn't pointed at you.

“We're dead,” Andrea sobbed, “All of us.” Her gaze moved back to Rick, “Because of you.”

You wondered after everyone as they walked through the old building, listening as they scolded rick for firing his gun.

“No signal. Maybe the roof.” The man, who was introduced as T-Dog, said, holding the walkie. Before anyone else could reply, a gun shot fired, echoing from above.

“Oh no, Is that Dixon?”

“Dixon?”

Andrea stopped her movement, looking back at you. “Yeah. What, you know 'em?”

Sadly, you were met with a distasteful Merle on the roof. He refused to tell you about Daryl-about how Merle had to drag in out of the house. About how Daryl wanted to pick you up and take you with them. About how Daryl had gone back, against Merle's wishes, and found you nowhere in the house. But you weren't told that, so the nerves in your stomach still fluttered, making you feel like you were going to vomit any minute. The only thing he told you was that Daryl was with the rest of the group by the quarry.

The nerves still fluttered even on your way to the said quarry. The thought of Merle being trapped in the roof was at the back of your mind, the thought of seeing Daryl for the first time in God knows how long, being front and center in your mind. Your leg shook with nerves as you sat in the back of the van, hitting a bump every once in a while, and knocking into one of the other people.

The van pulled up to the quarry, people piling out of the back, running to their families.

You were introduced to a woman named Carol. She was surprised when you told her that you knew Daryl. The short time she had known the man, she couldn't think of him having a soft spot for anyone, but here you were. She told you that he had gone hunting and that he should be back before dawn.

You sat around, getting to know everyone. As soon as Carol's husband raised his voice to her, you had kept an eye on him, instantly feeling protective of the woman. As she silently did for you. She kept an eye on you, making sure you felt comfortable among all of the strangers.

Night fell and there was still no sign of Daryl. You distracted yourself by helping Carol with whatever, or Dale with lookout. You hadn't told anyone much about you and Daryl. Mostly because you couldn't form a coherent sentence with Daryl on your mind. Where was he? Was he okay? Why wasn't he back? The band around your ring finger became a fidget habit. You spun it around any time the thoughts got too much.

The crisp morning air did little to wake you. You might as well have been a walker with how you sluggishly moved around camp, helping with anything, wanted to be helpful and pull your weight.

Carol handed you another pair of soaked pants, to ring the water out and hang it up to dry. While doing so, your eyes caught sight of Rick and Lori. They had been reunited. When was it your turn?

“How did you and Daryl meet?” Glancing back up at Carol, you cleared your throat to speak.

Before you could utter a word, a scream echoed throughout the camp, followed by Carl's screams for his mother.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, a few running toward the screaming, ready for the worst.

You walked behind the group, watching as Rick, Glenn, Dale, Shane, and a few others beat the walker that had made it from the city.

Dale swung down with his axe, cutting the head clean off the walker's body.

“It's the first one we've had up here.” He heaved, “They never come this far up the mountain.”

“Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what.” Another guy, Jim, said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Branches snapped, followed by more footsteps. The guys with the weapons moved toward the sound, weapons ready.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Daryl stepped over branches, slightly taken aback with everyone standing in front of him, ready to strike.

Everyone took a step back, “Oh, Jesus.” Dale's shoulders released the tension.

“Son of a bitch.” Daryl cursed, “That's my deer!” He walked to what was left of the poor animal.

He looked how he did when you first met. Frustration clear on his brow. You had helped him get rid of the constant scrunch of his brow and frown on his lips, and here it was, making its appearance in a dramatic manner.

“Look at it, all gnawed on by this-” He kicked the headless body that laid on the ground, “filthy,” kick “disease-bearing,” kick “motherless,” kick “poxy bastard!”

“Calm down, son. That's not helping.” Dale peeped, infuriating Daryl more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” Daryl walked closer, getting in Dale's face. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to “On Golden Pond”?"

“Daryl.”

Daryl paused, his face dropping. He turned to the voice, his knees nearly collapsing from underneath him.

Before you could say anything else, his crossbow was dropping to the ground, followed by the string of squirrels on his shoulder. He rushed over, his body colliding with yours. His calloused hands pulled your face closer to his.

He didn't care if everyone was watching. Or if the scene made them think differently about his tough-guy thing he had going on. His lips moved against yours.

“I didn't know where you were.” He mumbled against your lips. “I tried looking everywhere-”

“I know, I know. Doesn't matter.”

Part 2

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[asiatic-apple]

The colonel's uniform

Caleb x female reader

Words: 5.1k (pls forgive me)

Content: reader has a thing for uniforms, a few dog metaphors to describe caleb, CMNF, slightly jealous caleb, mean-ish dom caleb, but also switchy/sub caleb, his hat used as a blindfold, evol used as restraints, some unserious roleplay, one instance of “attagirl”, gloves on while he teases you, pussy spanking!!, safe word check-ins, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms

a/n: thank y'all for voting in my wip poll! this was inspired by his cafe dialogue when you say you prefer his hat from the fleet; the line is used verbatim (you’ll know it when you see it) Read on AO3

A few months ago, when Caleb had just come back into your life, you blamed your inexplicable feelings toward his new uniform on the fact that you wanted to see beneath all the layers. You were desperate to peel back the restricting outfit—only metaphorically, you convinced yourself—and see what secrets and hidden pain laid under it all.

But even after that feeling passed and you worked through your complicated emotions surrounding what Caleb had become, you were still left feeling…tense whenever you saw him in that damn uniform.

It takes you a few more weeks of inadvertently acting all flustered and shy around the colonel before you realize what your problem is. You notice it every time he tips his peaked cap down over his stormy eyes. Every time he adjusts the aiguillettes draped in front of his chest or runs a gloved hand down the length of his body to smooth out any wrinkles in the fabric.

Caleb in full Fleet regalia is your Kryptonite.

Even though you two have long since confessed feelings for each other, you keep this little secret to yourself. You master the art of subtlety. With stolen glances, you quietly admire the winged accents along the broad back of his coat and the way his gloves fit snugly on his long, slender fingers.

It’s easy to believe you might get away with your depraved thoughts and your silent, simmering obsession. Maybe Caleb will never find out how much you dream of grinding yourself on him without taking a shred of his clothing off.

That plan goes straight out the airlock when you let your guard down one evening.

You’re just visiting him in Skyhaven for the week. It’s about time for him to return home from work, and you anticipate the usual: Caleb half-changed already—his coat, gloves, and harness folded over his arm when he enters.

Instead, the sound of the door clicking open reveals the length of his coat, all his gear still carefully arranged on his tall body. You’re officially screwed.

After a long day at work, he somehow looks even more devastatingly handsome. The strained smile on your face twitches when he flops down onto the couch beside you, apparently too lazy to change out of his clothes just yet.

Work seems to have left him in the mood to rant. And really, you don’t mind listening to him vent. Even if he only mentions endless paperwork and frustratingly stupid mistakes from subordinates who should have known better. In fact, you cherish this moment.

There aren’t many opportunities for Caleb to share details about his work with you—always claiming confidentiality when you know he’s mostly doing it out of some twisted sense of protectiveness. So you’re grateful he’s confiding in you a bit right now, finally revealing what’s on his mind instead of keeping it close to his chest.

And you swear, you’re listening to him. You’re trying to.

But how can he expect you to pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth when he’s sitting so casually beside you in his slightly rumpled uniform?

It looks like the day wore him down. His tie hangs a bit loose around his neck, and the crisp lines that usually define his coat and pants have now softened into feathered creases. His colonel’s cap is thrown haphazardly on the coffee table in front of you, and you have half a mind to beg him to put it back on.

Your eyes travel the expanse of his chest, following the strap of his leather tactical harness before getting lost in the shiny insignia on his left breast. What would it look like if he proudly bore your mark instead of the Fleet’s?

“Helloooo,” Caleb says as he leans closer to you with an amused smile. “Ground control to Major Pip-squeak. Have you even been listening to me?”

Heat flares across your cheeks, embarrassment blooming as you blink like you’ve just snapped out of a trance. Hopefully he didn’t catch the exact direction your eyes had wandered—or magically guess the thoughts that went with them.

“Huh? Oh, yeah…yeah, I was listening,” you quickly reply, trying to hide the lie in your voice. “You were saying something about paperwork, right?”

“Pips, that was ten minutes ago.”

He sounds unimpressed, but you know he's not really upset you zoned out. There's only concern and curiosity on his face. The latter half is what you need to shut down quickly. It’s time to switch tactics.

“Oh, right. Silly me.” Your chuckle sounds less carefree and more nervous than you want it to. “Hey, shouldn't you change into something more comfortable? I’m sure that uniform is stifling, yeah?”

Shit, that sounded too suspicious.

You're about to backtrack, but Caleb catches on quickly.

“Y'know, you've been actin' real strange lately,” he says slowly.

He's not necessarily accusing you of anything, but his brows are furrowed in that way they always are when he thinks you're keeping things from him.

A thousand curses flood your panicked brain. Changing the topic made things worse, so now it’s time to act stupid.

“Hm? Strange?” Your voice cracks, but you soldier through it and hope he doesn’t notice. “Nope, nothing strange here.”

Throwing in a small shrug for good measure, you hope the casual act will somehow cover the way your entire body has gone rigid.

It’s not really surprising he sees right through it all.

His playfully narrowed eyes inspect you carefully as he leans in even closer. “No, you’ve definitely been acting weird,” Caleb argues. “And it's only when I'm wearing this uniform.”

He's hit the nail on the head, and you make it way too easy for him to see it. His knowing response is a simple chuckle, but it doesn't have its usual lighthearted lilt.

There’s a familiar, faraway look in his eyes now. You’ve noticed it more and more often, ever since you reunited with him. But you still haven’t figured out what it means.

When his gaze finally returns to you, his voice is eerily calm, but there’s a shine of unshed tears in his eyes. “Do I scare you when I'm dressed like this?”

The question catches you off guard, knocking the breath from your lungs. You two have had this conversation before. Caleb can be terrifying when he’s hyper-focused on certain things—like protecting you, whatever it takes. But fear is not at all what you’re feeling right now.

Scooting closer to him, you cup his face, desperate to erase that strange, sad look in his eyes. “No, that’s not it,” you say sternly. “You could never scare me, baby.” The first half of your statement is true, at least.

Even if he catches the slight hitch in your voice that gives you away, he seems to take you at your word. He breathes a sigh of relief and nuzzles into your hand, the tension dissipating from his body with your gentle touch.

For a second, you almost forget your previous embarrassment at where this conversation was headed. But Caleb’s mind is a steel trap when it comes to anything involving you—especially if he suspects you’re hiding things from him.

He lightly tugs your hips, carefully maneuvering you to straddle his lap. “Then what’s been bothering you?” he asks, his voice a soft whine. He’s pulling out all the stops to get you to confess, giving you those big puppy dog eyes of his and even pouting cutely. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything.”

You want to deflect. Want to keep telling him nothing’s wrong, but the words never make it past your parted lips. Because now you’re on the colonel’s lap, and the heat of his body is searing through all those layers of fabric you’ve spent far too much time ogling.

Thought abandons you. All that exists is the coarse weave of his coat beneath your hands, the faint creak of leather as his harness shifts with each breath. There’s a sharp trace of gunpowder clinging to him, cut through by the familiar, grounding scent of the cologne you love.

And then you catch the way he looks up at you. So willing and ready to fix whatever is troubling you. It’s like all you have to do is snap your fingers, and he’ll heel like a good boy.

He’s the colonel of the goddamn Farspace Fleet, but you’re the one pulling his leash. That thought has arousal heightening in your body, its greedy chokehold so tight you can practically taste your own need.

Your breath shudders at the same time your self restraint cracks.

It’s instinct causing your fingers to curl slightly into the lapels of his coat. Worst of all, your hips roll. Just the slightest movement, subconscious and slow. But god, you feel it—the tiniest bit of friction.

Caleb feels it too.

He stills. One brow lifts ever so slightly.

“Pip-squeak…” His voice is a low warning that makes you want to keep testing him.

His hands settle at your waist, thumbs pressing into your sides not in restraint, but in silent acknowledgement. He doesn’t push you away, doesn’t scold you. He just waits, assuming you’re only trying to distract him from his earlier question.

But it's exhausting denying yourself what you've wanted for so long. It’s easier to just show him what you need with trembling hands.

You slide your pointer finger beneath one fold of his lapel and glide it down to the center of his chest. When you switch your attention to the metal tip of one aiguillette, you can’t help but tug experimentally, entranced gaze locked on your colonel’s large frame jolting a bit from the motion.

Now it’s clearer what you want. No more hiding from Caleb’s eyes as they darken with lust and amusement.

“Well…would you look at that?” he whispers to himself, realization dawning on his gorgeous face.

You feel the shift in his body. The way he draws in a shaky breath. The way his posture straightens like he’s readying himself to stand at attention. He grins, wide and wicked and entirely too pleased with himself.

“And here I thought you were just shy.” His voice drops further, low and teasing—like you’re back in college and Caleb is the big meanie who caught you looking at something naughty and wouldn't let you live it down. “Turns out you’ve been tryin’ not to pounce on me every time I wear this, haven’t you?”

That smug look on his face pisses you off. But your pussy loves it. He leans in, nose brushing your cheek while he waits for a reply you stubbornly don’t want to give him. 

It doesn’t matter if you don’t admit it out loud, because Caleb’s observational skills are always sharp around you. You don’t need to use that pretty mouth to form words when he knows deep in his bones that he’s right.

He rocks his hips ever so slightly beneath you—just enough to make your breath stutter and your eyes flutter closed. There’s only a second of delicious friction before he’s ripping it all away from you with a chuckle.

A surprised yelp escapes you as he effortlessly lifts you from his lap only to toss you right back down onto the couch—so you're seated where he was a few seconds ago—legs parted just enough by the fall.

Not a second passes before he slips down to the floor in front of you, settling on his knees and pressing lazy kisses to your neck, over the thin fabric atop your chest, down the curve of your stomach. His hands rest heavily on your thighs as he leans in closer, trailing even lower with each kiss, until he’s fully nestled between your legs.

His affection is relentless—a steady, simmering thing that never quite lets up. Even now, with his lips brushing the waistband of your shorts, he can’t resist toying with you. The way he pauses there is deliberate, maddening.

Caleb has never been one to rush moments like this.

He eases your shorts down with aggravating leisure. The fabric kisses its way down your thighs, making you shiver. He keeps his eyes locked on you the entire time, watching your breath hitch and your hips shift restlessly under his touch.

The moment the shorts reach your knees, he dips his head and presses a single, reverent kiss just above the band of your panties. Then his hands shift, curling beneath your thighs. He lifts your hips just enough to slide your shorts down and off. The fabric falls to the floor, forgotten, while his gaze never leaves you.

Tugging on the hem of your shirt, he murmurs, “Take this off too.”

Where Caleb is all slow patience and eager to drag this out, you’re the exact opposite.

You don’t even think. There’s no hesitation in your limbs. No self-consciousness. Just an urgency that makes you tear the shirt over your head and toss it into some far-off corner.

Your chest rises and falls in a rush of breath, completely bare to him. The sight of your exposed skin has his jaw tensing and pupils dilating.

He always does this—looks at you like it’s his first time seeing you. You normally find it incredibly endearing. But right now, you nearly whine in impatience.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, not even trying to hide the way his gaze drinks you in.

But he doesn’t pounce yet. Instead, the cool leather of his gloves tickles your legs, stroking in slow, reverent passes that leave goosebumps in their wake.

One hand trails upward, pausing at the edge of your underwear. Then it dips just low enough to brush against the growing wet patch at the center—and he groans when your legs instinctively spread wider for him.

You’re burning beneath his stare, almost every part of you laid bare and aching for him. And he’s still fully clothed. But for once, you don’t want him to take a stitch off.

He hums in smug amusement and brings one thumb to press over the soaked spot on your underwear, rubbing a slow circle before gliding upward until he nudges your clit through the fabric.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, his voice laced with that perfect mix of tease and tenderness. “Is this really all because of what I’m wearing?”

The soft brush of lips against your thigh feels like a brand. Like he’s staking his claim on you before looking up again with a cocky tilt of his head.

“Do you like the colonel’s uniform,” he murmurs, "or the guy wearing it?"

Is he seriously jealous right now? If you weren't so high-strung with need, you’d laugh. Only Caleb could be jealous of his own damn clothes.

After all this tension and the way he drags out your pleasure at a torturous pace, you might as well let the green-eyed monster fester inside him.

You pretend to think it over with a quiet hum, as if his question requires careful deliberation.

His fingers still, and one brow arches in mock disapproval. But you see the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—he’s amused, even as he clings to the role of the cold colonel.

“You're cruel, baby,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your clit with firmer pressure. “If it's that hard to decide, maybe I should give you some private time alone with my uniform.” His voice is lower now. That usual trace of playfulness is gone. “But first…I think you need to be properly disciplined for keeping secrets from your commanding officer.”

He snatches his hat from the coffee table behind him before obscuring your field of vision with it, angling the brim so it’s half on your face and down low enough that you're plunged in darkness.

“Wha– ugh, Caleb!”

You reach for the brim, intending to yank it off so you can glare at him. But he stops you easily. Gravity tugs at your wrists until they're pinned loosely at your sides.

There’s a soft tut of disapproval, and then comes the sudden sting of your panties being snapped back against your wet heat.

“Don't move, soldier,” he warns smugly, as if you even could. “You're under the colonel's command now.”

The pressure of his Evol fades, but he clearly expects you to stay obedient. And for now, you do. You know better than to test him—at least, not yet.

Still, in case you forget, he reminds you with icy authority, “Insubordination will not be tolerated. Understand?”

This is unfair in so many ways. All you want is to see him, to touch him. But the hat, the rules, the aching need between your legs—it’s all too much.

You can only reply with a frustrated huff, and the sound soon melts into a whimper as he finally hooks his fingers in your panties and begins tugging them down your legs.

Once they’re off, there’s a deafening beat of silence before Caleb finally breaks it. “If you need me to stop, you know what to say, yeah?” His voice is gentle now, a jarring shift from the commanding edge it had a moment before.

You’re grateful for the check-in, but right now all you want is for him to keep going. You nod eagerly, but that doesn’t seem to be good enough for the colonel.

“Say it out loud, pip-squeak.”

“Apple juice,” you reply breathlessly, repeating the safe word you and Caleb have used in the past.

“Attagirl.” His praise curls around your spine like a hot wire, setting every nerve on edge.

You can’t see his face beneath the hat still shading your vision, but you can feel his eyes on you. You’re willing to bet they’re dark, hungry, focused entirely on what’s between your legs.

He proves you right with the slow, deliberate stroke of leather gliding up your inner thighs and brushing against your quivering heat. He’s touching you again, finally. But it’s frustratingly soft, every sensation dulled by the smooth barrier of his glove. The feather-light contact makes you twitch, hips rolling instinctively, desperate for more.

The chuckle that rumbles from his chest tells you he’s clearly pleased with how responsive you are. “You’re so wet for me already,” he murmurs, lazily dragging his fingers down your slit to collect your slick and smear it against your clit. “Bet you’ve been like this since the moment I walked through the door in this uniform.”

It’s addicting when Caleb gets like this—so drunk off the sight and feel of you that he can’t stop yapping about everything he wants to do to you. It’s as if touching you sets something loose in him that was hiding beneath the surface before. You try to bite back your moans, straining to hear every delicious word he spills against your skin.

More of your arousal gets captured between his fingers. You can hear it clearly with each obscene squelch from your cunt.

Caleb groans in appreciation of a sight only he can see. “You're makin’ such a mess for me, baby,” he says, voice rough with desire. “Maybe if you hadn't lied to me, you could have seen the way you’re soaking these gloves you seem to like so much.”

You can't stop yourself from huffing out a retort from beneath his hat. “But I didn't lie–”

Smack!

Your whole body jolts at the sudden, delicious sting of his palm landing hard against your swollen pussy. The seams along his gloved fingertips brush against your clit on the way down, and the sharp tingle of pain mixed with pleasure nearly unravels you. His name tears from your throat in a yelp, and he just laughs like this is the most amusing thing he’s ever seen.

But even though you can practically hear the sick smile on his face, he’s still Caleb, still careful. “Was that okay?” he asks, voice soft and grounding despite the burning heat between the apex of your thighs. “Do you need to use your safe word, baby?”

You shake your head fast, too desperate to want this to stop. Your clit throbs, greedy for more of that delicious sting. And your thighs tremble where they press around his kneeling body.

He gives you a moment anyway, even if you’re trembling with need instead of nerves. And then, finally, he strikes again.

The second smack is sharper, leaving a slightly more intense sting in its wake. Heat blooms across your pussy with startling clarity—and that’s when you realize he’s taken off his glove.

The next hit comes just as quick. His palm against your soaked, sensitive flesh makes your toes curl. With each spank, blood rushes to your clit, making your cunt slicker, hotter, and hungrier than before. It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to build during each frustrating pause when Caleb juxtaposes the pain with tight circles rubbed against your aching bundle of nerves.

The feeling soars higher and higher in the pit of your stomach…and then you anticipate the tension about to snap in a sudden rush.

It’s overwhelming and unstoppable all at once.

��Fuck, I’m going to–” is all you manage to cry out before his fingers are inside you. Two thick digits plunge deep into your pussy and curl hard against your g-spot like he knows you’re about to come undone before you can even warn him properly.

Your orgasm crashes over you so violently you convulse. Your thighs squeeze around his broad torso, the harsh fabric of his uniform lightly scraping your smooth skin like a possessive claim: you’re his to break apart, and his to hold together.

That familiar, magnetic pulse of his Evol clings to your body again. It keeps the hat firmly on your face and pins you down as your slick gushes around his rough fingers. There’s no escaping the intense pleasure he pulls from you.

You whimper through the aftershocks, mind spinning, body trembling. But even now—blissed out and soaking wet—your cunt still clenches helplessly around his fingers.

It was all too soon. Too fast. The sweet release you were craving just minutes ago now feels like a hollow ache, a need left open and begging to be filled.

“Calebbb,” you whine beneath the hat, too wrecked to deliver the scolding he deserves. “That…that was so mean!”

Condescension drips from his voice as he coos in reply, “Aww, poor little thing.” The mocking lilt of his words makes you throb on his fingers all over again.

Luckily for you, he’s nowhere near done yet. You've barely caught your breath and he's already moving his fingers again, sliding them in and out at a lazy pace while his other hand—still wrapped in cool leather—snakes up your trembling body to play with your pebbled nipples.

“Want me to kiss it better, sweetheart?” he asks before shifting closer and blowing a gentle stream of air right on your clit.

His mouth just hovers there for a few painstaking seconds, taking his sweet time in getting you all riled up again while you squeeze his fingers with your cunt.

When a fat glob of spit lands on your heated skin and drips down to meet his fingers, you struggle to keep your hands by your side like he demanded. The added lubrication only amplifies the sounds coming from your greedy pussy. It’s sucking his fingers deeper inside with loud squelches—and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t busy getting your brain turned to pleasure-filled mush.

But Caleb doesn’t waste the opportunity to keep being a big meanie.

“Ohhh, listen to that,” he purrs through a satisfied groan. “She’s practically singin’ for me.”

That infuriatingly smug tone seems impossible for him to keep at bay. His fingers curl inside you with pinpoint precision, nudging your g-spot in a rhythm so calculated, so perfect, it has you twitching for him.

“At least this pretty cunt never keeps secrets from me.” The words are muttered so close to a growl that you can barely tell if you actually heard them or imagined them, lost beneath the growing sounds from between your thighs.

You’re going to lose your mind like this. You’re seconds away from being locked up in a padded room if he keeps this up without putting that sinful mouth of his where you need it most.

Clawing helplessly at the couch, your voice breaks with desperation. “Please, Caleb! Stop teasing me.”

Some merciful god above must take pity on you because finally, Caleb decides you’ve been punished enough.

His Evol yanks the hat off your flushed face and throws it to the other end of the couch. You’re relieved to be able to see him again, but slightly annoyed he’s not putting it back on himself. Your disappointment only lasts a second though, because the sight you’re greeted with nearly makes you come on the spot.

As soon as your gaze meets his, he smirks. And then his mouth descends upon your clit like a man possessed. His mouth latches on with zero hesitation, tongue flicking with terrifying accuracy. One deliberate stripe, then a harsh suck that rips his name from your throat in a breathless cry.

And all the while, he watches you.

Bliss is written all over his face, and he moans against your sloppy center like this is all he ever needs in his life. Caleb doesn’t just eat pussy to make you feel good. He eats it like he never wants to part from your glistening folds. And when he enjoys a meal, he makes a mess out of it.

With each curl of his fingers inside you, you’re dripping more of your arousal across his chin and down his damn wrist. And he is smearing it all back on your twitching pussy with a depraved moan, eager to make you feel more, so much more pleasure than you can imagine.

He only parts from your clit for a second to demand that you keep your eyes locked on him, no matter how good he’s making you feel. After all, your attention should be trained solely on him while he licks and sucks on your swollen clit. He wants to look into your eyes and pinpoint the exact moment you come because of him—and only him.

You’re so close to giving him what he wants, your hips jerking as you start to grind against his mouth and hands at a more feverish pace. He gets the hint immediately, moving faster to match the rhythm you desire.

Any control the colonel had a few minutes ago is gone. It’s washed clean from your wetness and from the way he melts into the soft, needy heat of your cunt. Now, all he can do is look up at you in worship while he whines a whole damn symphony against your flushed skin.

You try to hold out for him—god, you try—but your body’s already a trembling mess, wound so tight it only takes one more flick of his tongue to unravel you completely. Your second orgasm of the night tears through you with a cry of his name as your hips roll against his mouth in a final, desperate grind.

Caleb doesn’t let up.

He keeps curling his fingers, keeps moaning against your drenched pussy like he’s savoring every drop of your pleasure. The intensity leaves you shaking—mind hazy, body spent, nerves frayed in the best way.

By the time you slump back against the couch, sweaty and panting, he’s already surging up to steal a kiss from your lips. It’s all desperation and greed, his tongue curling past your lips to share the taste of you and swallow your sweet whimpers.

When he parts for air, you find yourself suddenly boneless in his arms as he lifts you like you weigh nothing at all. His Evol helps him along and caresses your skin as it ensures you don’t squirm in his hold.

You expect him to tease you about how wrecked you are—maybe even throw you right back onto the couch and start again. But instead, he carries you deeper into his home, feet moving with purpose.

It’s clear where he’s taking you without even needing to ask. Of course it's the bedroom. Of course he wants more. So do you.

There’s a beat of tense silence as he crosses the threshold, the anticipation burning in your veins. He could take you against the nearest wall, could push you into the mattress and ruin you completely, but he doesn’t. Not yet.

Caleb once told you he likes to take his time when he shows his affection. And he’s always stayed true to his word. But you’re still getting used to the way he drags out every moment of pleasure between the two of you.

When he finally sits down on the edge of the bed, he keeps you in his lap, cradled but not restrained. The pull of his Evol has faded now, but you don’t make any move to leave his arms. You simply shift to straddle him, legs settling on either side of his hips.

Even after your intense orgasms, you still want more. And it doesn’t take a genius to know he’s going to fuck you now.

You wait—for his hands, for his voice, for anything. But he leans back to lie on the soft bed. You watch in confusion as he folds his arms behind his head. And does absolutely nothing.

One blink. Two. He’s still just lying there.

“Well?” he drawls, voice low and unbearably smug. “You said you like my uniform so much. I’m givin’ you your alone time with it.”

Your breath catches at the implication. That cocky bastard.

Alright. Two can play at this game. You just need to persuade him with the gentle rock of your hips. It seems to work for a second, causing his cock to twitch beneath you. But he still doesn’t budge.

“Caleb,” you whine, “stop playing around.”

He only smiles wider at your plea, eyes sliding half-closed like making you squirm is better than any other pleasure you can provide.

Desperate to convince him to do something, you ask, “What happened to you barking out orders and calling all the shots, hm?”

Still not even a flinch from him.

“We both know you’re always the one in charge, baby,” he says so simply it makes your jaw tick in annoyance. “So go ahead. Use me.”

It seems he’s settling in for the show, arms folded behind his head as if he has all the time in the world.

This isn’t just him being a tease anymore. It’s a full surrender wrapped in a smirk.

And then he promises, “I’ll follow any orders you give me, Colonel Pip-squeak.” He knows you can’t pass that up.

The uniform you’ve been obsessed with is all yours now, but the man beneath it has always belonged to you. Maybe it’s time to remind him of that.

I'd like to give a big shoutout and HUGE thank you to @walleeli for beta reading this and giving me fantastic feedback And I'd like to thank my bff @sirianisrock for dealing with my usual antics, indecisiveness, and listening to me rant about this fic for days LOL ~ Creds: mdni banner by @/cafekitsune glove/apple dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[kxsagi]

hihi how would the bllk men act/respond when their gf says she’ll sleep on the couch after an argument?? pls include the itoshi brothers and whoever else you want

tyyy

“𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝”

a/n: my guy best friend’s name is alexis so for ness, i wonder what nicknames reader would call him. lex? alex? 

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, kaiser michael, ness alexis

itoshi rin

you don’t yell. you just say it, quietly, firmly, “i’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” 

rin doesn’t even look up from where he’s pulling the comforter back. “then sleep out there forever,” he mutters. 

that’s it. that’s all he says. 

your jaw tightens. fine. he wants to be a dick? you’ll go be a comfortable, petty little burrito on the couch. 

the second you’re gone, he sighs and slumps against the pillows. he stares at the ceiling for a while. then turns to your empty side of the bed. 

it’s cold. and he hates it. 

he tosses. turns. groans. this is stupid. 

five minutes later, he storms out like a grumpy cat. hoodie half-on, socks mismatched, glaring like you murdered his whole family. “you’re being dramatic,” he says. “and annoying.” 

you open your mouth to respond, but he’s already sitting down on the floor next to the couch and crossing his arms. 

“i’m not going to bed without you,” he says flatly. “so either come back, or we both suffer.” 

you end up back in bed, wrapped in his hoodie, with his hand loosely curled around yours under the covers. he whispers, “i hate you,” and kisses your forehead. 

it’s his version of “i missed you.” 

itoshi sae

when you declare you’re sleeping on the couch, sae just gives you one of those flat, deadpan stares. like he’s watching a toddler throw a tantrum. 

“seriously?” he says. “over that?” 

you grab your blanket anyway. you’re halfway down the hallway before you hear him sigh. not a regular sigh, a tired, you’re impossible, but i love you sigh. 

he lets you go. but only for ten minutes. 

then he casually appears in the living room like he owns the place, leans against the doorway with his arms crossed. “you know the couch ruins your neck,” he says. 

you roll your eyes. “so?” 

“so come to bed.” 

you turn away from him with a stubborn huff. he crosses the room in two strides, crouches down in front of the couch, and gently tugs your hand. 

“i don’t like going to sleep angry,” he murmurs. “not with you.” 

you don’t say anything, but your eyes soften. 

he kisses your hand and gives a rare, tired little smile. “c’mon. the bed’s warm. and so am i.” 

he doesn’t let go until you’re back under the covers, head tucked under his chin, heart finally calm again. 

isagi yoichi

“wait, baby, hold on. what? what do you mean the couch?” 

he looks like you just threatened to leave him forever. arms stretched out, eyes wide like a kicked puppy. 

“c’mon, don’t do that... not over something this dumb.” 

you grab your pillow and ignore him, brushing past. he follows immediately, practically tripping over himself to keep up. 

“you want me to sleep in the bed alone? do you hate me that much?” he says it with the most tragic, oscar-worthy expression on his face. 

when you don’t turn around, he dramatically flops on the couch right next to you. “okay then. if you’re on the couch, i’m on the couch.” 

he makes it five seconds before whining, “my back already hurts.” 

eventually he wraps his arms around you from behind and buries his face in your neck. “i’m still mad,” he mumbles. “but i love you. and i can’t sleep unless you’re squished up against me like a koala.” 

you both fall asleep tangled up on the couch like weird puzzle pieces. 

you wake up in the morning with his face squished into your shoulder and a whispered, “you’re not allowed to sleep away from me again, okay?” 

nagi seishiro

you announce your decision like it’s a declaration of war. “i’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” 

nagi, half-asleep already, barely blinks. “… that sounds like so much work.” 

you expect him to argue. or care. but instead, he just sits up, yawns, and wanders over to you like a very lazy puppy. 

“babe,” he mumbles, hugging your waist from behind. “you’re comfy. the bed’s comfy. come be comfy with me.” 

you protest, but he’s already scooping you up with both arms like you’re a stuffed animal. “too tired to fight. let’s nap it off.” 

he drops you both onto the bed in one go, pulling the blanket over your heads like a makeshift fort. 

you glare at him. “we’re still mad at each other.” 

he hums sleepily. “okay. we can be mad tomorrow. bedtime now.” 

he falls asleep with your fingers tangled in his and your forehead against his shoulder. 

you’re not mad anymore by morning. not when he snores softly and still refuses to let go of your hand. 

mikage reo

“the couch?” he gasps like you just told him you were eloping with his worst enemy. 

“my love, my sunshine, my everything, you would choose the crusty old couch over your charming, heartbroken boyfriend?” 

you blink at him. “reo–” 

he drops to the floor dramatically, clutching his chest. “say it isn’t so!” 

you actually laugh, which pisses you off more because you’re supposed to be mad. 

“i’m serious,” you say. “i need space.” 

reo nods solemnly and lets you go… but you know it’s not over. 

ten minutes later, he shows up with a cup of tea, your favorite blanket, and his own pillow under his arm. 

“room for one more?” he asks, already crawling beside you. 

he strokes your hair and whispers, “i hate when we fight, you know. but i’m not letting you go to sleep thinking i don’t love you.” 

you fall asleep with your head on his chest and his heartbeat thumping under your ear. 

he kisses your temple and mumbles, “next time we argue, let’s just yell into a pillow and then make out.” 

kaiser michael

“i’m sleeping on the couch.” 

you expect him to scoff. to roll his eyes. maybe even say “fine, go ahead.” 

but instead… he just laughs. not the mocking kind. it’s the amused, oh my gosh, you’re so cute when you think you’re winning kind of laugh. 

he leans back against the bedroom wall, arms crossed, watching you like you’re performing a one-person drama. “you?” he drawls. “on my couch? schatz, that thing isn’t worthy of your ass.” 

you glare at him as you march off with your pillow. “good. now i won’t have to see your smug face until morning.” 

“you’ll miss me before you even fall asleep.” 

“wanna bet?” 

you wrap yourself up like a burrito, determined to win. five minutes pass. ten. you think you hear him shuffling around, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of checking. then – 

a sudden weight on the couch. 

you shriek as kaiser climbs on top of you, shoving your blanket aside with all the grace of a golden retriever in a silk robe. “what the hell, micha –” 

he silences you with a kiss to the cheek and a smirk. “you said you were sleeping on the couch. you didn’t say i couldn’t join you.” 

he settles in, spooning you tightly, chin on your shoulder. “still mad?” he whispers. 

you huff. “a little.” 

“good. you’re cute when you’re pissed.” 

he doesn’t let go once all night, and the next morning, you wake up with his arm draped over your waist and his voice low against your skin: “next time we fight, just yell at me in bed. it’s more comfortable.” 

ness alexis

“i’m sleeping on the couch.” 

ness freezes mid-step, like someone just yanked the power cord out of him. his whole face crumples. his arms fall limply to his sides. he looks like he just got rejected on live TV. 

“w-wait… really?” he says, voice small. “because of what i said?” 

you nod. firmly. “i need space.” 

ness nods too, quickly. “right. okay. space. of course. totally.” 

he watches you grab your blanket. he follows like a shadow, lingering behind you, clutching his hoodie sleeves like they’re your hands. 

“if you need anything, i’ll be… just down the hallway,” he says. “if the light flickers, or if you get cold, or– i dunno– if the couch tries to eat you.” 

you raise a brow. “alexis.” 

he stands there a moment longer, eyes shining just a little too much. “… do you still love me?” he whispers. 

your heart softens immediately, but you keep your back turned. “go to bed, lex.” 

you think he leaves. but then, an hour later, a small rustling wakes you. you peek open your eyes, and there he is, curled up on the floor next to the couch with a blanket and one of your socks. 

“lex?” 

he sits up instantly, bleary-eyed. “i-i wasn’t trying to sneak in! i just… missed you.” 

you sigh and pull him up beside you. he cuddles into your chest like a human teddy bear, arms wrapped tight. 

“sorry again,” he mumbles. “please don’t leave the bed next time. i’ll be better. i swear.” 

you kiss the top of his head and feel him melt like butter in your arms. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢