#you're just an obnoxious blue box

[lonely-cowboy]

HEY HEY CAN I REQUEST ANYTHING FLUFFY W CONNOR X FEM READER

YOU WORK IS SO GOODDD

MY DARLINGS FORGIVE ME

requests started coming in hot right as i started my midterms so pls forgive me for taking so long to get through my requests (which i'm loving btw i'm so excited to get to all of them)

with that being said i'll stop yapping and let you read in peace

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framed

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: you're very confused when you find a photograph of yourself on connor's desk.

word count: 1k

warnings: none

author's note: i said i'm done yapping and i mean it i have nothing to say. (except i do wanna say this was inspired by the person that said my connor was very you are in love coded bc that made me happy and got me thinking)

masterlist ⟡ requests

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“What do androids do in their free time, anyway?”

“Plot against humanity? I dunno.”

Hank’s laugh came out in a quiet huff, one that indicated he didn’t think your answer was too far from the truth. 

You had come into the precinct hoping to interview Hank and Connor on their latest investigation surrounding a human cult determined to wipe out every single android. As head journalist for the Detroit Free Press, you were desperate to get word before everyone else. And as Connor’s friend, you were sure you could sweet-talk it out of him. 

But when you got to the precinct, Connor was, strangely, nowhere to be found. Usually, he trailed behind Hank like a lost puppy, but not even Hank knew of Connor’s whereabouts. His unusual absence only led to conversations about what the hell an android could be doing on his lonesome. Neither of you had any clue.

“Have a seat, kid,” Hank offered, nudging his chin over to Connor’s desk. “You know he’d feel bad if you were standin’ around waiting for him.” 

Rounding the table, you took a seat in Connor’s chair. You sat stiffly with your hands atop your thighs, the exact same way Connor would. The realization made you chuckle softly to yourself. Even when he wasn’t here, his presence always made itself known in the subtlest of ways.

Your eyes wandered across Connor’s desk, noticing that it was relatively barren. Hank’s desk was littered with mementos– old donut boxes, Detroit Gears merchandise, anti-android propaganda that he’d crumpled up and intended to trash. But Connor’s desk was plain and organized. A single blue pen sat exactly parallel to his recent case file that had been neatly folded. On top of his case file was a quarter like the one he always fidgeted with. You wondered idly how many quarters he had lying around, having never seen him without one. But the only belonging of actual interest was a picture frame right beside his terminal.

Your brows furrowed as your gaze latched onto the photograph. You were staring directly at a picture of yourself.

Believing it to be a trick of the light, you reached for the picture frame and brought it closer. Sure enough, it was you.  

You stared at a version of yourself who was mid-laugh. You could almost hear your own laughter ringing in your ears. It was that genuine kind of laughter, you knew. The kind that was an obnoxious cackle you always wanted to hide. Why on earth would Connor have a picture like that framed?

Come to think of it, where did Connor even get this picture? You didn’t recognize it at all. You couldn’t even place where it was taken. There were zero clues in the photograph as you were the only focus. Nothing else, just you.

You were about to ask Hank about it when a voice over your shoulder startled you, “I really like that picture.”

An inhuman yelp escaped your lips as you spun around in Connor’s chair. You found him looking down at you with a pleasant smile, not even remotely embarrassed to be caught having a photo of you.

“Why… what even… what?” you stammered.

Connor cocked his head curiously, waiting for you to get your words out. But you couldn’t. You were so utterly confused that your brain couldn’t remember a single word in existence. You just stared at Connor with a gaping mouth, holding the picture up for his viewing pleasure. 

When you didn’t say anything, Connor’s eyebrows furrowed for only a moment before easing. An endearing habit of his that made your heart flutter. He definitely was not helping you find the right words. 

“I’d like to clear your confusion as best I can, but… I’m afraid I don’t understand its cause,” Connor said gently.

From behind, you heard Hank’s quiet snort. He wasn’t helping either.

“Well… Connor,” you started slowly like you were gradually putting the puzzle pieces together. No matter how hard you tried, the pieces weren’t fitting. “Why do you have a picture of me?”

The corners of his lips raised into a small grin, his hands moving to clasp in front of him. You knew this stance to mean he was about to tell a story.

“I asked Lieutenant Anderson about the keepsakes on his desk. I was curious as to why these particular items were objects of significance and what classified them as such,” Connor explained cheerfully. “As I recall, he said ‘I don’t know, they’re just alright, I guess.’ Perhaps my interpretation was incorrect, but I took that to mean those items made him happy.”

Connor’s smile widened slightly. That meant he was finished. He didn’t clear any of your confusion.

“Okay…?” you prompted.

“I wanted to do something similar. I thought it could help me accommodate to deviancy, so I decided to surround myself with things that make me happy.”

Your mouth clamped shut as your confused look turned to one of shock. You were almost sure you hadn’t heard him right, but another laugh (hidden behind a cough) from Hank made you confident that you had.

“I… make you happy?” you clarified.

“Yes,” Connor answered curtly. There was another long pause as you waited for Connor to continue. He seemed to get the hint by now, elaborating further. “I always enjoy your company. I look forward to seeing you when we have scheduled plans. This wasn’t a scheduled visit, so I was pleased to see you were here. It made me smile. Seeing you makes me smile.”

With all his talk of smiling, you couldn’t help cracking one of your own. Seeing your smile made Connor brighten.

“Like that,” he said. “If I could photograph and frame you right now, I would.”

You were so giddy with affection that you couldn’t help but laugh. You had never known Connor to be so poetic with his words.

“You know, Connor,” you said with careless laughter. “I came here to sweet-talk you into an interview for the Press. But here you are sweet-talking me.”

Connor looked pleased with himself, standing a little straighter. “I hope that made you smile.”

“It certainly did.”

[peachesofteal]

how’s clover going to manage that conversation next time she goes into his office..

or will she even go again?

also i think dr riley is so interesting as a character already.. i need to take a little look in your brain for a bit bc whatever’s cooking up there is good shit

psych au - 18+ - tw for mental health, ptsd, extreme suicidal ideation, Clover is a mess. Dr Riley crosses a line. Part One / Part Two / Part Three

You're kind of stuck to the floor, surrounded by beige walls, and beige carpet, the waiting room's obnoxious brown beige clock ticking on the wall.

All of it feels very loud.

You took the train again today, and stepped closer to the yellow line. You stepped over it, even, too aware of the man to your left's gaze, his beady, nervous unblinking eyes, calculating what exactly were you trying to do.

Yeah, kid. What exactly are you trying to do?

It crosses your mind again, for more than a split second this time. Throwing yourself onto the tracks. Closing your eyes. Letting your head go quiet, finally. No one talks about how easy it is. How they just come and scrape you up, load what’s left into a black bag, and clean up the scene. One second, one decision, and you’d be gone, eyes closed, mind empty.

No one would blame you. Another service member with PTSD. What a surprise.

"And did you hear what happened? I wouldn't be able to live with myself after that, either."

It's bad now. It's gotten worse. Therapy was supposed to help but you're not made for civilian life. You're not supposed to be here, and you've tried saying it over and over until you're blue in the face, but Dr. Riley doesn't budge. He asks you trust him, but you don’t know how. You can't think here. Can't sleep here. You close your eyes and feel fire, hear screams. The best you can do is go to the gym for hours and try to work yourself into exhaustion.

You sit in the chair with your feet flat on the floor, and try to breathe.

The shame, the stupidity of the other night is pressing against you, boxing you into a corner, burning you alive from the inside out. You’ve tried to blot it clean, black it out, but the single second of his lips on your lingers like an infection in your blood.

You didn't want him. You don't. He just... understands you. Makes you feel seen. It's his job. You're getting it mixed up.

Or-

You do want him. You do so badly it’s heavy, sticky in the air like summer heat.

Each time the second hand ticks, your skin itches. It burns. Something prickles. You're not trying to breathe, you're holding your breath.

You can't do this.

You're up and beelining for the door before you can talk yourself out of it. You can't do this.

"Clover." A firm voice calls from across the lobby, and you freeze. Stomach knotted in dread, you find him holding the office’s hallway door open. "My office."

It's first time you've heard him issue a command, and you can't help your response.

You snap to.

He settles in the chair across from the couch, laptop balanced on his thighs. He’s wearing dark khakis of some kind, and they stretch over his quads, long sleeve navy blue shirt tight across his chest. It’s… distracting.

You look away. Pointedly.

"I-"

"You will never put yourself in danger like that again." He grits, and you slowly blink. "You wandered off from a bar, in the middle of the night, nearly too plastered to stand. I asked you to stay put, and you-"

“Disobeyed a direct order?” You volunteer cheekily, his eyes narrowing.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ joke.” The curse straightens your spine into a steel rod.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… do any of that.” Your head hangs in shame, tears fighting their way through your control, your efforts to smother them, tamp down your emotions.

“I know,” his voice is soft, a blanket, a balm, and you close your eyes. “You’re going through something very difficult Clover. I don’t fault you for anything you’ve done.” The forgiveness doesn’t settle like you want it to, acrid in your throat, bile churning in your stomach as you try to digest it. Why? What did you want in its place?

Something else.

Even now, with him across from you, your heart trills like a hummingbird’s. It’s confusing, it hurts. You think of the yellow line, the one meant to forbid you from stepping to closer to the tracks.

The couch dips on your left, weight compressing the cushion, a large, heavy thigh just an inch from yours.“Can you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

Can you?

“I want to go home.” You whisper it away, trying to lessen the strain on your heart. “I don’t… I’m sorry, I should have cancelled. I’m not feeling very good.” Fingertips graze your shoulder. You rocket to your feet.

He stands and latches onto your wrist before you can step away. “Sit down.”

“I-“

“It’s not a request. Sit. Down.” He’s turned towards you now, crack in the cushions between your bodies, but he still holds your wrist. “I want to help you.” He says softly, holding your gaze without wilting. “But you have to let me, I can’t do it unless you meet me halfway.”

“I’m trying.”

“Are you? How long have you been drinking like that?” Shit. You turn your face away from him, blinking at an empty spot on the wall.

A palm presses to the back of your neck, his signature heat bleeding through cell and bone, shooting straight to your heart. The sliver of a wolf, a predator, gleams in his eyes again, for the first time since your first session, but this time it’s tempered with silk, easy calm, vibrating from him to you.

You stare at him. Dissect the scars, the fault lines, the weathered tissue, torn open and healed anew.

Healed. A novel concept. A foreign idea, so far away you don’t know what it looks like.

The hand at your neck slips away with a sigh. “Clover, listen. Normally in this situation… we’d assign you a new provider. We’ve crossed a serious professional boundary, and the appropriate thing would be for me to remove myself from your care team.”

“Wait… no. I mean, you didn’t do anything. It w-was me, it was my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m your doctor, I’m the one in a position of power here. What happened-“

“I’m sorry.” Your vision goes blurry with tears. “I’m sorry, I was just d-drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing,” you’re gasping, lungs soaked with salt, despair, panic rife and cleaving through your chest, “I didn’t mean to, I messed up, I didn’t- I didn’t mean- captain, I-“ the height of your hysteria is turning dark, dredging up the things you tried to buried, the images you’ve tucked inside a black box and dropped to the bottom of an ocean. Suddenly, you can’t breathe. He’s talking to you, you can hear it, but the words don’t make sense, the scrape of your breathing too loud.

“You’re in my office Clover. You’re with me.” You shake your head, but it does nothing to calm you. “Try to breathe.”

“C-can’t.”

“Okay. Try to ground yourself. Tell me your name.” You spit it out, first and last, but it doesn’t help. Everything feels like too much. His fists clench, flexing open and shut, cords of muscle flexing before he grits something sharp under his breath and reaches.

He hooks you into his body, guiding you forward by the back of your head until your nose is in his neck and all you can feel, all you can see, or smell is him. It takes its toll, slowing your heart rate, breaths settling into a shaky pace in time with his, and you register the thumb stroking small circles against your neck, his nose in your hair.

“Just breathe.”

[kbwrites]

Up In the Clouds Ch.4

synopsis: you're friends arguing reaches a breaking point... for you. what will you do when you find out the real reason they've been fighting?

prev ← → next

⚝content: sugusato x f!reader, sfw, satosugu arguing, but they're arguing over youuuu

⚝wc: 1.4k

Suguru and Satoru always fought. From the year you’d known the duo, that much was obvious. Petty arguments and stupid disagreements were rampant in your trio. But, at the end of the day—usually forced by you—they would make up. Today, however, there was a disquieting air around them, an unfamiliar tension that gnawed at your peace of mind.

You three were in the courtyard for lunch, a place usually filled with the sounds of your laughter. You and Suguru ate bentos while Satoru dug into a sugary donut.

But something was... different.

No annoying quips from Satoru.

No heavy sighs from Suguru.

Just complete and utter… silence.

The courtyard, bathed in the soft afternoon light, felt oddly still. The rustling of leaves and distant chatter of other students did nothing to alleviate the growing unease. You shifted in your seat, the silence pressing down on you like a weight.

“Did Yaga yell at you two or something?”

Suguru glanced up, his hazelnut-colored eyes narrowing as he finally spoke. “No… it’s not that.”

Satoru  scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically behind his dark sunglasses. “Yaga yelling would be wayy easier to deal with than Mr. Perfect.”

The raven-haired teen’s jaw clenched. “Oh, I’m Mr. Perfect now? That’s rich coming from someone who thinks they know everything,  Satoru.”

“At least I don’t try to control every little thing” Satoru shot back, his words muffled by the mouthful of donut. ”Not everything has to be done your way, Suguru.”

“Maybe if you used your head a bit more, we wouldn’t end up in half the messes we do,” Suguru retorted, his tone icy.

You sighed, feeling like a mediator between two stubborn children.

“Guys, seriously, what’s going on? This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is Suguru thinking he can tell me what to do.” Satoru snapped, his voice tinged with frustration.

Finally, you’d had enough. The frustration and tension had reached a breaking point. Without saying a word, you stood up, grabbed your lunch, and turned to leave. The soft thud of your bento box as you placed it into your bag seemed to echo in the silence that followed.

Satoru’s blue eyes widened as he noticed you standing. “Wait, where are you going?”

Suguru’s head snapped towards you, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. “What—?”

But you were already walking away, your footsteps brisk and determined.

“Great, just great! Now ya made her leave because you’re too scared to tell her the truth!”

Suguru’s face flushed with anger. “Me? You’re the one who turned this into a contest and made it impossible for me to even tell her how I feel!”

Satoru shot a glare at his best friend, his voice laced with bitter irritation.

 “Well… I don’t care!”

A week. Seven long days without your best friends. They avoided each other entirely, which was pretty hard to do considering how small the school was.

The hallways almost fell deafening silent without the pair’s obnoxious laughter echoing through. According to Nanami it was “The best week of my life”.  But for you, it was a slow descent into madness. The absence of your two best guys, who were always there to bug you and share in the chaos, was unbearable.

Hell, even Yaga was starting to get worried.

Shoko wasn’t much help. Completely jaded by the routine of arguments and breakups between the second years, she shrugged off the situation with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “They’ll make up… eventually.”

You were never one to just sit back and let situations play out. So you whipped out your phone to set your plan in motion.

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(Y/N)                                          (Y/N) Hey, movie tn? My place.    Movie night 2nite? Sugu                                          Toru Sounds great. I’ll bring the movie.     Heading 2 the store!    You sigh in relief. They WERE going to make up today, whether they liked it or not. Your phone buzzes again. Sugu                                         Toru Hey… just us right?                    Me n you right (Y/N)?                        (Y/N)                          Yep! Just us!

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You prepared your dorm, fluffing out the pillows, grabbing your softest blankets. Hiding any sharp objects. The soft glow from the tv and your fairy lights set a cozy atmosphere. You only hoped that it would help soften the tension between them.

Knock Knock

Your ears perk up at the noise, you stood up, smoothing your clothes as if they could somehow help soothe the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach. As you opened the door you saw Suguru, leaned casually against the doorframe, his raven hair falling in soft waves around his face. His kind eyes tinged with nervousness.

“Hey Suguru!” Your voice warm as you greet him, stepping aside to let the taller boy in. He settled into his favorite spot, grabbing the blanket he’d left here one too many times. You settled next to him as he pulled out four DVDs showing you the selection.

“I haven’t seen any of these yet actually.” He says looking at you.

As you both discussed the movies, you heard another knock at the door. You quickly stood up, hoping Suguru wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. 

“Hmm? Shoko Coming?”

“Not… exactly.” You laugh nervously as your hand slowly reaches for the doorknob. As the door inches open you see Satoru, his white hair slightly damp from his (never-ever missed 8pm Shower). He greets you with a smile, striding into dorm. Immediate irritation flashed across his face when he made eye contact with Suguru.

Their eyes narrow at each other, then at you.

“What’s HE doing here?”

You place your hands on your hips; side-eyeing Satoru to sit down. He begrudgingly takes a seat next to the raven-haired teen, pouting.

“We are watching a movie. And you’re both staying.” Your normally soft voice, firm as you glare at the two older teens.

They both shoot each other glares before sighing. You had won… for now. You took your place, right in between them.

You tried your hardest to just watch the movie, but it was so boring. Usually Suguru picked out pretty decent movies, but this documentary was NOT a decent movie. You stole glances at your friends; if you weren’t so pissed off at them you would’ve been blushing at the prospect of being sat between two attractive guys. 

Their close proximity made your heart race. You could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, and every small movement seemed amplified in the quiet room. Your hand reached into the popcorn bucket. As the pair saw your hand go in they both reached in with you, hoping to touch you.

Both flinching as their hands brushed each other’s instead of yours. They shot each other a glare before turning their attention back to the TV. A minute passes before Satoru speaks.

“I could’ve picked a better movie with my eyes closed.” The white-haired teen mumbles, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

“Just watch the movie, Satoru.”  Suguru replied with an exasperated groan, though his eyes never left the screen.

“This shit is gonna bore me to death.”

“That isn’t such a bad idea—”

You sigh heavily, grabbing the remote to pause the movie. You stand up, looking down at the two sorcerers.

“Alright. What the hell’s going on with you two?” You demanded

They both looked away, avoiding eye contact. Satoru crossed his arms, pouting even more, while Suguru ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

You tap your foot, glaring down expectantly.

Suguru glanced at Satoru, their eyes meeting in a brief, intense exchange. Satoru’s nod was almost imperceptible, but Suguru seemed to take it as a cue. He drew a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“(Y/N)...”

“We’ve been acting like this because, well..”

“We’re both...” Satoru continued.

“In love with you.” Suguru finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, stunned by the confession. The room felt suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You stared at them, trying to process their words. Your breath hitched, struggling to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. It felt like a storm was raging within the confines of the small room, each thunderous heartbeat echoing off the walls.

“You’re… what?” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling.

Satoru stood up, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless.  “We’re in love with you, (Y/N). Both of us.”

Suguru’s nod was slow, almost hesitant. 

 “And it’s tearing us apart.”

taglist: @4evahevah @angelofdarkness2 @iangeeluv

@isishsoskdjsk @yunho-leeknow @starriesworlds @hiblue123158 @n3ptoonie

[irisintheafterglow]

welcome back to coparenting megumi with satoru (megs' birthday edition! because it's basically winter and i wanna write more found family fluff)

you're well aware that megumi is not a normal child.

you're reminded of it on a daily basis when he tells you about the low-level curses he spotted around the corner while he and tsumiki walked home from school. you're reminded when either you or satoru immediately go to the corner where he saw the curse and exorcising every curse within a four mile radius. you're reminded when he sees a dog and immediately wants to summon his divine dogs, even though his cursed energy isn't at a level where he can activate it without being wiped out for the rest of the day. but mostly, you're reminded on his birthdays that he was not born and will never be normal. still, satoru makes it his mission to give the boy what he calls a "bangin' birthday."

the other kids in his class would have their parents bring in cupcakes or goodies on their special day; megs, however, would probably argue that the other kids aren't deserving of the sweets you brought. so, on his 7th birthday, he's in class for barely an hour before you sign him out at the front desk. his eyes stare out the back window at the passing cityscape and he sips on a smoothie you had waiting for him when he met you at the front office.

"i thought you had a mission?"

"i called in a few favors and got today off," you reply happily, smiling wider when his fingers automatically grab your pinky. as you pull into the driveway of his first surprise, the tiniest gasp of realization leaves him and you wink at him through the rearview mirror. "recognize that sound, megs?" he nods furiously, throwing off his seatbelt as soon as the car is parked with excitement you'd never seen from him before. the barking coming from the house you've pulled up to only increases in volume while he practically runs up the front path and, with no warning, two gigantic dogs burst into the front yard and into the arms of the birthday boy.

"they still know me!" he beams as the two dogs nudge his face with their foreheads, sticking their nose against his clothes and licking stray drops of smoothie. "look, they still like me!"

"i see, megs," you say with a melancholy twist in your chest. even though he was becoming better at summoning his own divine dogs, you knew he missed the ones that helped him break his mental block in the first place. like no time had passed, megumi herds the dogs back into the house and they dutifully follow. you shoot your friend a text, thanking her for letting you use her house and letting him see the dogs she adopted all those years ago. while she worked in her office upstairs, she very generously gave you the rest of the first floor to use for birthday festivities. festivities, you noticed, were much more decorated than you previously planned it to be.

while megumi slips his shoes off at the door, the dogs race over to a gigantic box in the center of the dining room, barking furiously at it like it was an intruder. it's wrapped in shimmering, bright blue paper that gives you a headache the longer you look at it and looks suspiciously large enough to hide a 6-foot-something idiot. you knew you raised megs right when he's also immediately suspicious of the package, eyeing it with distaste as if he already knew what (or who) was inside.

"i'm guessing from your face that you didn't put that there," he remarks and you shake your head in acknowledgment. "any idea what's in it?" you swear you can hear a stupid giggle from inside the cardboard and you stifle a laugh.

"don't know," you say with fake indifference. "maybe it's a present from the dogs."

"it'd probably be hard for them to wrap seeing as they don't have thumbs," he states blankly, still frowning at the obnoxious wrapping paper. "wanna just put it somewhere to get it out of the way?"

"sure," you start, an idea popping into your head and a sly grin working its way onto your face. "i guess...i'll just throw it in my domain for now-"

"surprise!" as if on cue, the top of the box breaks open to reveal your very panicked boyfriend who despised portaling into your domain. he's wearing ridiculously oversized party glasses with frames shaped like balloons and his clothes are covered in metallic confetti that sprinkles onto your friend's floors. the dogs break into another bark-fest and satoru shushes them urgently; you break into giggles and help him step out of the box. "where's my favorite birthday boy?"

"why were you in there?"

"it's called a surprise, megumi. people have them when they want to have fun," he quips and you click your tongue, picking a stray piece of confetti from his hair. he murmurs an apology under his breath, kissing your forehead like he wasn't in bed with you a few hours earlier. "hi, gorgeous."

"hey, handsome. your limbs alright after being stuck in there?"

"a little creaky, but i'll survive," he reassures you, stretching out his ridiculously lanky arms as an example. his hand gestures to the ungodly amount of streamers and balloons that were much more than you'd bought last week. "i did a little redecorating."

"i see that," you chuckle. "alright, megs. you ready for your next birthday activity?" he looks up from his spot on the floor, where he'd somehow convinced the dogs to lay on either side of him.

"there's more?"

"mhmm, and it involves some strawberries from the fridge. you wanna help me wash them?" he nods and walks over to the fridge with the dogs trailing behind him. "there should be a strainer already in the sink."

"you still think we'll be able to make it to the park?" satoru asks quietly, pulling you into his arms and watching the winter sky become more unfriendly. "i can protect us from the rain, but a storm would probably ruin the atmosphere we've got goin' here."

"i agree," you murmur. a glance at the mirror shows megumi standing on a stool in front of the sink, sneaking washed berries to the dogs. "though, i don't think he'd mind just staying here."

"i also agree. i can order some lunch and go pick it up while dessert bakes. i need to go grab tsumiki, anyway," he suggests. "she can help me pick out matching cozy sweaters for when we watch a movie."

"i think megs would rather die than wear a matching sweater with you, sweetheart."

"true," he concedes. "but i'll do that, then. need anything else while i'm out?"

"no, just for you to get back faster."

"i'll be here before you can even blink, beautiful."

"are we making me a birthday cake?" megumi calls from the kitchen, finally noticing the ingredients stacked neatly on the island counter. "and does that mean i can throw food at satoru?"

"if you can get him to turn off infinity, then sure," you reply. your boyfriend makes a face of betrayal and you stick your tongue out at him. "tell him it's for your birthday present."

"gojo, i know what i want for my birthday!"

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[thecapricunt1616]

Pink Pony Club (Richie Jerimovich one-shot)

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan "I'm up, and jaws are on the floor. Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door. Blacklights, and a mirrored disco ball Every night's another reason why I left it all" ♡ Summary: You're an Exotic Dancer / part time house mom at The Pink Pony, and end up falling for a man that is probably old enough to be your father. ♡ W/C: 2.9k ♡ Poste Date: 06/10/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello all! again, for the asks that are atp starting to mold in my inbox - imma get to you. This specific dirty old man in a suit has been making me feel things lately, so naturally I had to write some porn about it. Asks are still open even though I cant promise it'll be done snappy. Hope everyones week is off to a great start so far!! Tagged those who commented on the post saying this would be a good idea just so you could see how it came out, hope you like :) ♡ Warnings for BTC: Age gap relationships (R is in her mid-to-late 20's, mentions of sex work, Club environments, swearing, smut, rough sex (Richie likes to be slapped around sometimes, kay?) lowkey simp!Richie, no use of Y/N - pet names only, readers stage name is Pixie Polestar , unprotected sex, not edited, we die like men!

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had met Richie just about 2 months ago. It was safe to say, life had chewed him up and spit him out lately. 

If he was being honest with himself, the dating pool wasn’t exactly rich at 46 years old. He could count on almost two hands how long it had been since he got his dick up for more than just the binightly pornhub browser. 

That led him into the Pink Pony Club one fateful August night. You were working your usual shift, Pixie Polestar. You - unlike some of the other girls - really enjoyed your job. At least, the aspect of having fun on stage, doing cute, sexy little acrobat-like tricks on the pole while horny men paid you to take more of your clothes off?

Yes please. 

You weren’t a back room kind of girl, usually. That was because the amount of money you made from tricks on the pole was more than a lot of the girls you worked with made in a whole shift while you just worked the 45 minute trick-filled stage set then would give a few $400 lap dances depending on your mood, before skipping on home, taking a hot shower, and slipping in your silk sheets with your air conditioner turning your bedroom something akin to an ice box. 

That was how that night was supposed to go. 

How the night really went, was some loud borderline obnoxious man at least 15 years your senior, had found his way into the Pink Pony. He was wearing a pressed navy blue suit, that complimented his pretty blue eyes. That was the second thing you noticed about him while he loudly whistled for Krystal who was currently doing her set. 

You weren’t really supposed to be here anymore - well- you didn’t have to be here. You had found yourself a solution, a real career path if you will. But you enjoyed your time on the pole because it was art, and dancing was a confidence booster for you. In any regard, you were going to get older, you were going to pass your prime as the house mom was always telling you girls, so you needed another stream of income. 

Of course, being a … *eh-hem* - exotic dancer was the word you preferred, stripper just sounded trashy to you, did come with its negative stereotypes, one of which being no where will rent to you - because you had terrible credit. So, naturally, being the resourceful woman you are - you walked your happy ass to the open house of a for sale by owner showing, and told the nice realtor you’d take it. 

Boom. Done, you had a place to live in 3 weeks, when you closed on it. Then, it dawned on you. The other girls you worked with had the same issue you did. So, you found another house, saved another 25k for the amount to put down, and rented it to your coworkers. 

It was the perfect system, because you knew you’d get your rent. You knew exactly how much money each girl made because you watched them make it, you knew where they lived, and they had to look you in the eye every night. So it’s easy to say no one ever tried you. The only real reason you hung around The Pink Pony anymore was because you wanted to keep an eye on your girls and dancing was fun too. 

When he first laid eyes on you, it was something akin to a cartoon character when their pupils turn into hearts. It wasn’t too abnormal, you were one of the more bombshell-esc dancers at the club, and that isn’t to say that you outdid anyone it was all based on preference. Some men loved plain Jane’s, and the plain Jane’s were just as beautiful as any of the other girls, but the reaction of men basically tripping over their feet to try and come talk to you was more likely going to happen to you then anyone else.  

But he…didn’t come over, that was interesting to you. So, you being the master of customer service you were, took your drink and kept your eyes locked on his as you made your way across the room, and plopped right in his lap. “Never seen you here before sweetheart” your manicured hand found the back of his neck, gently caressing over his skin. 

He tried to play it cool, but your tits we’re basically in his face, he could smell your perfume perfectly, fuck he genuinely can’t believe that a girl so beautiful just sauntered over and sat in his fucking lap. Was he dreaming? He found his mind racing, and for once in his 46 years he was dumbfounded and couldn’t find anything to say. 

“Cat got your tongue honey?” You smirked a bit, gently cupping his stubbly cheek and rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it gently before letting it snap back into place. He swallowed thickly, his hand resting on your bare thigh, just below the white glittery mesh coverup you were wearing. 

“I’m Richie.” He blurted out, his cheeks felt like they were on fucking fire, any blood that wasn’t rushing there was rushing to his cock and he found himself wondering when the last time he’d gotten hard so easy was. 

“Well hello Richie. I’m Pixie, what brings a handsome man like you in on a Friday night mm, no big plans?” You absentmindedly played with his chain, pretending to pay no mind to the long length that was hardening in the curve of your ass. All you would have to do is shuffle just a tiny bit and his cock would be nestled between your cheeks and the itty bitty powder pink g string that you wore beneath the tiny mesh piece of fabric that was basically for show and no use to cover anything. 

“I guess I was lookin’ f’some entertainment. Think I found it” he spread his legs more, causing you to sink further into his lap and his hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb rubbing little up and down strokes over the smooth skin. He never believed that the sheer triple x rated porn movie he was creating in his mind would become a reality that night but man did it. 

It was also his first night taking the dreaded viagra prescription his doctor had given him when he got real about his … shortcomings as of late. The man isn’t what he used to be stamina wise, okay? Nonetheless - he still rocked your shit - well, more like you rocked his. 

Who knew this foul mouthed, old school, borderline toxic masculinity-entrenched motherfucker would get so much pleasure from your palm coming across his cheek just hard enough it left a yummy sting and telling him “My eyes are up here you old pervert” as you bounced on his cock with a rhythm he couldn’t bring to the table himself anymore, and that in turn causing your tits to bounce like a fucking hentai film less then a foot from his face. 

Something about a younger girl calling him old and smacking him around all while using his cock to get herself off, babbling about how good he makes her feel made him more confident then he had been in years.

He often would find himself feeling a little pang of sadness after you started seeing eachother, in moments where you two were laughing a way he only ever did with Mikey before you came around, and making him feel like he was in fuckin’ High school again with how giddy he was to see you after every shift. All of it would just remind him how bad he wishes you could have met Mikey, and how bad he wishes he could tell Mikey. 

Richie knows, he would be so jealous, but in a brotherly way - that such a young hot piece of ass, a young smart, hot, funny, piece of ass was calling him daddy, told him he was ‘her mans’ whatever the fuck that meant. He assumed girls today call their boyfriends that, there were a lot of little phrases and lingo you had to explain to him and would always make fun of him for being old after doing so. 

He would tease you too, having some late 80s early 90’s radio station on (because the old head didn’t understand what streaming was) while he drove you around of course since he had learned from you that you were his ‘passenger princess’ and saying something like ‘oh babygirl this is before your time, this is from my day” before cranking up the radio and serenading you with Bad Girl by Madonna, belting it in such a silly, dramatic way between drags of his cigarette you couldn’t help but burst into giggles and kiss him at the next red. 

You had told him that when you used to do private dances that Like a Virgin was one of your favorite to dance to for the ‘older’ gentleman, he spanked you playfully when you said his crowd was older as he usually did, and of course later that night he had you perform for him and you ended up getting your back blown out to material girl since you had been streaming the song from your phone and didn’t care to find it and turn it off. 

When Tina had played it jokingly at family dinner one night, he couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips at the memory. Funnily enough, she was the first person to find out about you. Of course, he didn’t divulge anything other than he was finally seeing someone consistently, nothing about your age or profession. Based on the way Tina had reacted with clapping and kissing his cheeks, gushing “I’m so proud of you papa! That’s so good, this is so good for you! You need to get out there more” he was reevaluating his social life or lack there of and telling himself he needed to get out more, which lucky for him you were young and bubbly so you could get him out of the house. 

The next person he told, he really told, was Carmy. Well- technically Syd too, but she just happened to overhear. 

“W-wait wait” Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose how he did when he was baffled and confused, brows knitting together as he shook his head. “Lemme- lemme just get this straight - y’datin a…..” 

“Ex-o-tic dancer, cousin. It’s 2024, fuckin hell. Women dance and get paid for it - no big deal.” He repeated, emphasizing each sound as if what he was explaining was the most casual thing in the world, which - you had explained to him it should be so he took that and ran with it. 

“You’re fucking…a stripper- a stripper that’s what they’re called when they dance naked -  and how old did you say she was?” Syd questions. 

“Hey- she leaves her panties on she’s only naked top up, and plus she doesn’t even have to anymore she does it for the art.” He points the spoon he was wiping down at Carmy “this new NOMA bullshit we’re doin’ here isn’t the only art, Cousin. Shes an artist” he dropped the spoon in the bucket with the rest of the pristine ones he’d worked on. 

“Sure- and she’s fuckin younger then me” Carmy replied. “She could be y’fuckin-“

“Yeah, yeah - whatever she could be my fuckin daughter where’s your girlfriend huh? I don’t see anyone linin’ up to fuck you. She’s nice, and into me - and - and she’s funny and smart. So see already 2 qualities named that I don’t see much of around here so excuse fuckin me f’wantin to be happy when I’m not in this shithole” he teased 

“So- this not even 30 year old, she is gonna be y’date to the thanksgiving friends and family night - the one your daughter and ex wife are attending - and you think that will be a good idea considering tiff’s track record with girls you bring around” Syd questioned. 

“Yup” was all he said before taking the now finished bin of spoons to be put away, glad for the conversation to have finally been over. 

He rehashed the whole conversation with you later that night as you slowly rolled your hips into his, your skin sticking to his, both of you covered with a thin layer of sweat. You had his hands pinned next to his head, fingers interlaced with yours, practically speaking into your mouth as you kissed him sloppy and open mouthed, obsessed with eachothers taste. You always tasted of bubblegum, a habit you’d carried with you since childhood, he always tasted of cigarettes, a habit he had carried since high school. 

“Baby with my job I’m used to people not understanding me - I didn’t expect your friends to like me. My job - it can make people uncomfortable. But fuck them. You know how we feel huh?” You picked up the speed of your hips, using the curly deep brown patch of hair at the base of his cock to cause the most delicious friction with each thrust on his cock as you chased your orgasm. 

“Ye’ fuck em baby- shit- so fuckin tight- all mine right?” He breathed, mouthing over the bruises he’d left on your breasts a few nights ago. That was one thing about your job he had a bit of difficulty getting past, but you assured him you had no feelings for any clients and that you weren’t doing lap dances anymore only your stage set and otherwise you were just there to be more of a second house mom. But still, he was a man after all. He was possessive, a little jealous sometimes. So he loved to hear that you were only his during moments like this. 

“Yes daddy- all yours. You own this- you own me” you kissed his hand before bringing it to your breast and then using his shoulders as leverage to bounce further up and down, the action causing his head to fall back and jaw to fall slack. 

“Just like that - god- fuck - holy shit baby- shit-shit- y’fuckin close? How fuckin long has it been?” He pinched your nipple lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him and a pornstar like whine to leave your lips 

“It’s been 15 minutes- Christ you’re like a teenager. Can’t even last 30 minutes?” You teased, leaning in and kissing his neck, biting and nibbling the skin as you circle your hips, essentially jutting the tip of his cock into your g spot and that floaty feeling sneaking up on you as you feel him shoot rope after rope of arousal, painting your pretty, gummy walls a milky white and his stomach muscles clenching at the overstimulation. 

The grunts and moans that left his lips when you got him here were some of the hottest noises you’d ever heard a man make before, you were always sure to file them away in a special little folder in your brain for a rainy day he wasn’t able to get you off himself. “Feel good daddy?” You asked sweetly, sitting up and resting your hands on his hips so you could look down and watch as your mixed arousals gush out of you and around him, thick strings breaking with each slow, purposeful roll of your hips 

“So fuckin good baby- Jesus gonna finish soon? Dunno how much more I can do” he said, voice breathy, blissed out, nearly whiny. 

“Mmhmm few more minutes daddy- god we’re so pretty, I bet we taste so good mm?” You swipe the pad your forefinger over your clit, gathering the sweet and bitter white, making a show of rubbing it over the hardened bud of your nipple “feels good, too, wanna tell me how it tastes?” You leaned in and he nearly groaned as he took your breast in his mouth, crystal like eyes seeding into your own gaze as he flicked his tongue gratefully around the sensitive nub. 

You whined hotly, the sight of your tit in his mouth mixed with the feeling of his pants huffing through his nose and fanning over the swollen flesh as his tongue swirled and licked and flicked and drove you over the edge. You cried out, hips stuttering as you rode out your orgasm. His hand found your heat, rubbing with scissored fingers over your clit and meeting around his cock before dragging his fingers back up to repeat the assault. 

The action had you gushing around him, the contractions of your heat getting stronger causing him to groan into your skin and that vibration just added more stimulation. “Fuck yes- god daddy- always make me feel so good, no one understands how good we make eachother feel hm? Nothing else matters, baby, as long as you feel good, right?” 

You pulled him in for a sloppy, hot, passionate kiss. A kiss that made his heart do flips, and his stomach flutter, and made him feel way lighter.

Richie thought to himself in that moment he may be falling in love again, and he was equal parts fucking terrified, and excited to see where things with you went. 

He just had to get over ripping off the very last bandaid, and then you could really be together -

And that bandaid was Tiff.

@aestheticaltcow - @myszie - @wtfsteveharrington

[cockdestroyer32]

all mine

tangerine x fem!reader

word count: 2304

summary: after the events in the bullet train in tokyo, you and ladybug have a new job in a new place, unfortunately, you're not alone.

a/n: okay so in this reader's codename is sarin. and you're besties w ladybug bc I lov him. title is from brent faiyaz's 'all mine' which has nothing to do with this fic but I didn't know what to name this and I rlly love that song so. also no smut in this.

When I grow up, I wanna be famous I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies, when I grow up I wanna see the world, drive nice cars, I wanna have groupies.

The song blew out of the car’s speakers, and both you and Ladybug sang each word perfectly (and very obnoxiously, you were practically yelling out the lyrics.) He drove and you sat in the passenger seat, you both swinging your arms around dancing tirelessly as the citizens of Greece who were able to spy inside the moving car judged your shameless partying. You hadn’t seen Ladybug in months, so when you found out you were finally going to be assigned to a mission together again, you both beamed, and got together to plan your entire trip from the cities of New York to the city of Larissa. You went from cackling a little too loudly at comedy movies on the plane, to endless chatter at the airport, to listening to your iconic super duper awesome 2000s hits playlist on a rented Jeep (the playlist title was Ladybug’s decision.) There’s no one you’d rather work with. Except…you weren’t working alone tonight. 

This hit wasn’t just any hit, it was a stakeout. So, Lemon and Tangerine were called. 

You had walked into Tangerine a few times before; New Zealand, Cuba, Romania, and Tokyo, of course. You’d been the longest with him while in Tokyo, when you had to team up because of a lost briefcase. He was incredibly irritating and the different ways you both did your job clashed immensely, but by the end of the night you two had worked frustratingly well together. 

You’d never met Lemon before though, you hoped to God he wasn’t just a Tangerine 2. 

“Oh, boo!” Ladybug starts and you join him when you look up.

“Booo!” You yell out at the warehouse as if it’s just told some awful joke at a stand-up show.

The building has the same architectural creativity as a cardboard box. Except that instead of brown, it’s grey and dirty, and instead of holding a gift you just spent the last days waiting anxiously to arrive at your home, it just holds the next gruesome hours you’ll spend planning your hit.

You and Ladybug allow The Pussycat Dolls to finish the last few seconds of their song and turn off BlueTooth before you can be sad about not singing Britney.

You sigh and say, “It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Yep, but the sooner we do it sooner we’re done. Come on, let’s meet the fruit duet.” You chuckle.

The warehouse acted as a lighthouse, the nighttime a sea of nothingness. You can spot the remnants of the trucks that passed by in this area marked in the muddy ground. Tonight smells of wet grass and fancy dinner parties, the ones you should be in right now.

You enter the warehouse, the night’s cold air vanishes and it shifts to a warm, still atmosphere. You take off your coat. Tangerine and two other men are already in the room. Even at such a dead spot in town, Tangerine is still dressed elegantly, sporting a blue striped suit that fitted him perfectly, and smelling of rich men’s perfume. You often wondered if he could fight in those suits. Although you loved a good luxurious suit—God knows your blood money could buy one, your closet was full of Versace, Vivienne Westwood, Dolce & Gabbana and Burberry—you preferred to wear more tactical outfits for the job, you know, in case someone fucked something up and everything went to shit.

“That’s Lemon, by the way.” Ladybug whispers to you, while pointing his head to the man standing in front of Tangerine.

“What? I thought they were supposed to be twins,” Ladybug shrugs.

“Um, I hope we’re not late…you’re Lemon I suppose?” You pretend like Ladybug didn’t just tell you and offer a handshake. He takes it.

“That’s right, and you’re...”

“Sarin.”

You look over to his brother.

“Tangerine.” A nod, no handshake.

“Sarin.”

“You’ve met Ladybug.” You say to the two brothers.

“Yes, we had the pleasure.” The taller man doesn’t hide the sarcasm.

“Accommodating as always, Tangerine.”

“So, shall we?” Says the other man in the room, the one who was managing this whole thing, and you all follow him.

He takes you to a desk where there lie multiple files on different workers and a big map layout of the warehouse. The man shows all of you the place, discussing what approach the team should take for the mission, at what time each one should arrive at the building, the shift times of each warehouse worker, the spots each one should be in…and so on and so forth. Time passes relatively quickly, demanding you and Ladybug a secret high-five, and you all turn to look at the man who’d organized this.

“Yeah. That’s it.” The man repeats.

“Yeah.” You agree, still looking at him.

“You can go home now.” He practically demands.

“Uhh, I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to get paid now,” Lemon adds.

“You’ll get paid after you get the job done.”

“Did you not get the memo lad? We get first half now and second half after the job is done.” Tangerine said.

“Yeah, we’re supposed to get paid now, didn’t our handler message you?” You asked honestly.

“Well I didn’t bring the money, so what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, but we’re getting paid.” Tangerine insisted.

“There are lots of ATMs in Larissa…” Ladybug spoke. The man mutters some curse word under his breath,

“Fine. I’ll get you your fucking money, but you’re gonna have to wait.” He disappears from sight, making his way up the stairs in the corner of the building.

“Damn, what a Gordon.” Lemon remarks.

“Thomas the Tank Engine?” You ask.

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I think he’s more of a James, just super cocky.”

“Oh my God, there’s two of them.” Tangerine sighs.

“I’m gonna go get some air.” You say.

With your coat in hand, you make your way to a backdoor on the side of the warehouse. Slipping the garment on as soon as you open it, the chilly air cutting through your skin. You slide your hand into one of the coat pockets, finding a small rectangular box and a smooth metallic item. You fish one of the cigarettes out of the box and light it, inhaling the nicotine, warming your body while letting yourself freeze in the moment. You were so far out of town that you couldn’t hear any of the cars, any of the people in Larissa, your team also seemed to be particularly quiet inside the building. Here, it was silent, save for crickets chirping in the vast nothingness that was the field at nighttime. Tomorrow it’d be full of people, receiving and delivering new packages, trucks coming and going and workers arguing amongst each other, all their chatter overlapping, sounds of life, until you all arrive and the sounds of an active workplace morph into that of an action movie, slashing and yelling (no guns, this was supposed to be a somewhat subtle and more practical job) and then, nothing. The building once again ghost quiet, but this time painted red. 

It didn’t bother you. You’d been in this business for way too long to be perturbed by the sounds of the dead now. You knew what you were getting yourself into from the beginning, this is no bombshell. Although the still of a city that’s beginning to fall asleep is much better than one that had its commotion ripped away from it. So you took these quiet moments you had to yourself and held them tightly in your hand, like some old trinket gifted to you by someone special. And for a few moments, as you exhaled the smoke out of your body, you felt outside of space and time, frozen in the moment, your feet planted on the ground, scared that if you move even an inch, you’ll fall off the face of the earth. You melt off the moment when you feel a pair of eyes on you.

Tangerine stands by the back door on your right, looking at you. You’re not sure how long he’s been there, but he has a calm look on his face, a smile on his eyes but not on his lips, by far much different than all of the ticked-off facial expressions you’d seen on him before.

“The fuck are you looking at?” You tease.

“Geez. I’ve just come to get some air.” He walks in your direction. You offer him your cigarette, he takes it. You two breathe together for a while before you ask,

“Do you like this?”

“What? Jobs in the middle of nowhere handled by some fucking dickhead who can’t even pay us right?”

“No. This.” You look around, motioning slightly to your surroundings, “The quiet. We don’t get a lot of it in our job.”

“I suppose we don’t,” He passes the cigarette back to you. “It is kinda nice, I can hear my thoughts for once, don’t have to listen to Lemon yapping about.”

You snort. “He’s nice. I was scared he was gonna be like you.”

“What? I’m nice.”

You stare at him.

“How am I not nice?” He continues.

“How are you not nice? Okay let’s see, you’re impatient, you’re always irritated, you look like you’re constantly on the edge of throwing a fit, you’re always cursing people out and you always got that look on your face of a teen girl who just got her phone taken away by her parents.”

He takes this in for a second, surprised at the speed of your answer, as if you’d been waiting for this moment for a while, and maybe you were.

“Hm…still think I’m nice.” He adds, you smile to yourself, nodding your head in fake disbelief.

You can feel his eyes on you, even as you take another puff on your cigarette and stare at the darkness. You don’t look back, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“S, Fruit, guy’s back.” Ladybug pops out of the door, and you follow him back into the building, followed then by Tangerine. 

The man now holds bags of money, one for you and Ladybug, and one for Lemon and Tangerine. You finally leave the warehouse, each of you making your way to your hotel rooms. And you would’ve been able to wash the night off your body and rest on the hotel’s comfy bed, if it wasn’t for the misplaced amounts of money. See, your bag and Ladybug’s held only his share, not yours. Thankfully, it wasn’t some scam, your money was placed along with Lemon and Tangerine’s. So, now you’re going up an elevator to Tangerine’s room to get your share. You knock on 215 and he opens the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey, come in.” You walk into the room, but only close the door slightly, not shutting it, and you stand next to it, ready to just get your money and leave, not expecting to stay here any longer than you have to. He goes to the back of the room and brings back a bag, “Here.”

“Thanks,” You spy inside the room, the place is quiet, most of the lights are off and it holds only one bed. “Is Lemon not here?”

“No, different hotel, leave no trail and such.”

“Oh.” You’re genuinely surprised. Shit, that’s smart, perhaps you and Ladybug aren’t as great professionals as you thought you were—even if the bar when you two worked together was already pretty low.

“What? Is me delivering your money instead that bad?”

You snort. “No, no, that I don’t mind.”

You look at each other for a second, perhaps you should be on your way-

“Are you staying in Greece after the job?”

“Uh, no. Me and Ladybug are going back to New York right after.”

“Oh.” He looks down, the expression on his face something you can’t quite read. “Are you and Ladybug…”

“No! God, no!” You almost yell. “No, he’s my best friend.”

“Oh, right.”

“Why?”

“Just…curious.”

Hm. Curious. 

You stare at each other again, a smile on your eyes but not on your lips.

“Okay, I should get going.” You start opening the door to leave.

“Wait,” He says, grabbing your arm. “I think…you should stay here the night.” 

The smile reaches your lips, amused. “Why?”

“You know, you could just stay here the night, if you want…”

“Okay but, why?” You tease. He furrows his brows. “I’m sorry Tangerine, I just don’t know what you’re telling me.” Your words are of someone genuinely confused, but your face and tone tell a different story. He catches on and sighs.

“I’m just saying…you could spend the night here, with me.”

You click your tongue, “Tangerine…you have to speak clearly.”

He squeezes your arm, and approaches his face to yours, changing his tone, “Sarin. I want you to stay. I want you.”

You let your lips fully curve up this time, pleased.

You put both your hands on his face, and close the space between you, only placing a light kiss on his lips, then pulling away to see his reaction. He keeps his eyes shut for a moment, as if still in the moment. Then, he opens his eyes, staring at you for a second, and pulls you in for a stronger kiss. His hands at first cupping your face, then one makes his way towards you back, pulling you in closer, even though you were already as close as you could possibly be right now. You shut the door with your foot behind you, not letting each other go for even one second. Tonight your own bed’s gonna have to wait for you.

[violetmina]

Chokehold - Ch. 11

Chokehold Masterlist

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Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,623

Warning: Swearing, adult themes, sexual tension and...well, Butcher.

A/N: I'm back~! Its finally here! After several months, the next chapter of this series! I promised that I would not abandon it, and I meant it. If it feels off in any way, I do apologize. And many thanks to all of you for your support and your patience. If I forgot anyone that wanted to be on the taglist, please let me know asap so I can fix it.

Two things ripped you from sleep that morning. The first was your final alarm blaring from the coffee table. The second was the abrupt awareness of a particular body missing behind you. The combination of the two had your muscles spasming into a flailing upright position, immediately revealing a slight kink in your neck as your brain tried to catch up. Your fingers fumble and flutter over the table in search of the obnoxious sound coming from your phone. Just as your hand starts to slap against the wood in groggy frustration, your eyes just make out a different set of fingers.

“Billy?” It comes out cracked and garbled from sleep.

The alarm dies quickly under his fingers and the blur in your vision shifts in time to bring him into focus, kneeling before you beside the couch. “Morning, sunshine,” he greets you with that crooked smile. “Gotta tell ya, I hear that alarm again, I'm throwing your fucking phone through the wall.”

“You -ah!” You wince as your neck twinges sharp at your attempt to swing your legs to the floor.

“Yeah, your couch did the same number on me,” he mutters. He slips his fingers to your nape, rubbing the smallest of circles there, just on the new knot. It's brief, his hand withdrawing before you can even sink into it, reaching back to bring forward a cup of coffee.

“Here. Can't send you off to Hughie with bags like that under your eyes.”

You give your thanks, taking a long draw before turning back to him. “Speaking of not looking so good, what about-?”

“Nuh-uh.” He wags back a finger at you as he stands to head out of the living room. “We had a deal. You're done playing nurse.”

You roll your eyes, knowing full well you're not going to argue with this mule. Butcher appears unfazed from the previous night's events, strutting in your apartment as his usual. The only outward indication of his escapade was the faintest peek of the liquid stitches on his head and the missing Hawaiian atrocity the blue t-shirt replaced. A very good looking replacement if anyone bothered for your opinion. But bravado and machismo are not enough to throw off what you already know - he was probably bluffing.

Taking a full gulp of coffee, you shuffle behind him towards your kitchen. The pizza box sits empty and abandoned on your counter. But next to it Butcher rifles through an unfamiliar bag, pulling out to-go boxes.

“You brought me breakfast in bed?,” you ask, smirk tight against the rim of your mug.

“Breakfast on couch,” Butcher replies without missing a beat, sliding warm styrofoam towards you before hooking a palm onto your hip. “Since ya made such a point of avoiding your bed.”

“Actually it was you making a point of avoiding my bed. You did say you wouldn't go near it if I wasn't in it, did you not?”

“Awfully cheeky for just starting that coffee.” He pushes away from the counter and pulls you in as you shrug in response. “And we could remedy that in a hurry, yeah? Being in your bed, I mean.”

“I, on the other hand,” you continue, bluntly brushing off the reply, “was avoiding sinful acts so as not to kill you.”

“Not a bad way to go, innit?” Butcher manages to wrap his arm around your back without sloshing your morning brew over either of you.

“Maybe not. But I'd hate to traumatize the others with the vivid details of what you look like naked,” you grin.

“Fuck off,” he hums before hushing you with a kiss. Then, purring into your ear, “You still haven't answered me…Your bed?”

Butcher doesn't give you much of a chance to respond. Not verbally that is. He kisses you again, longer, firmer. Warm steadily turning to hot, a slow delicious simmer. Your free hand slips along his side, just hitching under the hem to brush skin, and you can't remember this shirt feeling this soft. But you're not going to forget now.

Until he gives you something else to remember.

Butcher's grip on your hip grows firmer, and when you part your lips in invitation, his response is no different than how he handles much else - he does not hesitate. He delves to taste and you're quickly preoccupied with his own, enough to kiss back with more fervor. He nips your bottom lip and you know it's still not safe for him, not really. The concussion is still a danger…but you feel your bed pull at you like his fingers starting to tug at your jeans.

Until his phone buzzes loudly in his pocket.

“Billy…”

He shakes his head, whiskers whispering against your face. “It's nuthin’,” he breathes between kisses. “So? This a yes, lov-”

Another buzz.

You catch his wrist as he rips the cell from his pocket, barely saving the offensive thing from a warp speed trip across your apartment. When yours buzzes too on the other side of the room, the noise that rumbles out of him makes you bite your lip. He leans back from you snarling to the roof, “Fuckin’ cockblocks every fuckin’ one of ‘em!”

“That confident were you?” It comes out just a tad breathless.

He stabs a brief glare at you with a snort before finally looking over the interrupting notification. “Surprise, surprise. Hughie.”

“What did he say?”

“New orders, new case. And a little under the table meeting. Same bullshit,” Butcher grumbles. “I'm sure yours is near identical.” He looks up at you, some of the frustration leaving his face to give you a hint of a smile. “All things considered, I'm guessing you'd like me to let him know we'll be each other's plus one to the meeting?”

Butcher gives a little wink before you place your hand over his phone. His hint of humor falters when he sees you staring with furrowed brow at the text message waiting to be answered.

“...No.”

His face mirrors yours. “No? No what?” 

You look up at him, shaking your head.

He stares for only a second. Then, “Ah, I get it. I'm your new dirty secret, eh? That it?”

“No,” you reply louder, more abrupt. Had that been the tiniest edge on his playful tone? You look up at him, shaking your head. “I didn't mean that. You're not that. I mean I don't know what you - we-!” 

Something twitches in his face at ‘we’, something that makes part of you flinch, and you take a breath before speaking. “What I meant,” you answer slowly, “is that we shouldn't say anything just yet. Not to the others. I don't want anyone thinking that I didn't earn my place here, pull my weight. Especially Hughie.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“He's already shown me once how quickly he can change his mind, even more so when it comes to me doing field work. I hope I won't need you to speak to him on my behalf. But if I do, how much will your word weigh to him if he thinks it's only because we're past being friends…coworkers…what have you…” 

You trail off on that thought, cutting back to the point. “Anyway, more importantly, we've got a big mission here. And I think it would be best if the team has no questions or doubts about where everybody's heads are at. No distractions. Right?”

Butcher gives a slow nod as your words sink in. “That'd be the thing they'd do wouldn't it?” Then with a humorless laugh, “Like they don't question me, bust my balls enough already. And Hughie!” He makes a tsking sound. “Yeah, none of that. We'll deal with this Persuasion business proper first.”

He nods and makes a quick reply to Hughie before sliding his cell back into his pocket. “I best get a move on, meet up with MM while it's still early. And you best get your ass in gear. You need to keep an eye on the congresswoman.” 

Butcher smirks as he shrugs on his coat. “Real shame,” he drawls, giving you a long, parting kiss before beginning to back to your door. “Still wouldn't have minded breaking your bed.”

“Could've died,” you sing-song at him.

“Sounds like a good way to go.”

“Sounds like you're trying to tell me you wouldn't be worth a second round,” you tease.

Butcher shakes his head, a dark, heavy look rolling in his eyes at your sass. “When did I ever say it’d take only one round?” He pauses in your door. “That's a shame, love. I thought you knew me better than that.”

With a smirk your way and a glance over your apartment, he closes the door. You let out a sigh somewhere between relief and disappointment, picking at your to-go box as you remember the coffee somehow still in your hand. “Not yet,” you smile in response to his parting words.

As you eat the breakfast Butcher had delivered, you did your best to focus on the little spark of excitement in you, and ignore the last look he'd given your apartment. Ignore the sharp flicker he'd given the windows.

^^^

“We got one!”

You nearly jump as a news article slaps onto your desk. Hughie beams down at you, almost smug before sliding it closer to you. “Got one?”

“A supe. That fungi one, what's-his-face -”

“Cordycep?”

“Yep,” Hughie grins. “The asshole who was caught spraying those spores everywhere to hypnotize people. His case finally went to the judge. And the judge threw the book at him.”

You skim over the article as he leans against your cubicle wall, clearly pleased. “You're not kidding. Found guilty of all twenty-six counts of fraud, identity and grand theft, and forgery.”

“Every single one,” he says. “A long sentence. And no chance of parole at this time, or bail. We did that. We did that!”

You suppress a laugh as he takes back the article with a fist in the air. “That's kinda the point, isn't it? That's why the bureau exists.”

“I don't mean the bureau. I mean us,” he replies. Then he continues with earnest, “I know that the team has been kinda frustrated lately. We covered this case, and several like it, and it feels like we've been trying to climb shit mountain every time. But this shows that it's working. We're making a difference. And we didn't have to scrub blood out of our clothes to do it.”

“This time,” you emphasize. “We didn't have to this time. Forgive me for raining on your parade a little. But let's keep a little pragmatism here. Cordycep was a push over. Most of the supes aren't.”

He waves you off but you still notice the slight slump in his shoulders. “Whatever. Point is that we are making a little progress.”

You feel a twinge of guilt for being a bit of a realist on him. But despite that, part of you wants to celebrate with him. There has been progress for both the Boys and the bureau. Slow, grinding, frustrating progress. But still progress. Although, if Butcher were the one to measure, you would be found short today. You hadn't been able to keep an eye on Neuman as intended. Even those at work had only seen her in passing glimpses by her office.

With that in mind, you lower your voice just slightly. “Speaking of progress, are we still going over reports tonight with the team? That quarterly thing?”

Hughie nods as he straightens a little, eyes scanning for the congresswoman. “Yep. Right. Quarterly reports. Gotta make sure we're within budget and all that.”

“And are Annie and I still on for girls night?,” you ask, absently shuffling through some files. Not like you care what they are.

“Yes. Actually she hinted that she might - might - be able to stop by tonight. You know, say hello. Iron out some stuff for your upcoming bonding time.”

That certainly puts a little edge in you. You'd be lying to yourself if you thought you weren't hesitant about how the meeting would go. Yes, the whole mission and its variables were certainly part of that. But so was the fact that you now had to keep pretending like nothing was going on between you and Butcher, jiu jitsu or otherwise. Throw in the ever looming threat of Neuman's shadow, and the mutual disdain to put it politely between Annie and Butcher…

“That sounds great,” you smile wanely. “Is everybody else in on that particular detail?”

“Butcher knows,” Hughie deadpans.

“And how many new expletives did you learn from him after telling him?”

“None. Not yet, I mean. He's probably composing a whole list to shove down my throat after the meeting as we speak.”

“Wrapped with a C4 wire bow, I'm sure,” you smirk at him. You slap three files into his chest. “Here. You'll need those for tonight.”

He glares at the manila as if it's offended him while he thumbs the pages. “The hell is this?”

“Budget reports.” Your expression goes flat when his remains confused. “Neuman would want you to have those for the meeting…?”

A beat passes before you see the light bulb come on. “Oh,” he smiles sheepishly. “Riiight. Need those.”

“...How the hell are you my boss again?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles before pushing away from your cubicle to avoid the return of your smirk. Before he dips out of sight he peeps around the corner one more time. “Oh, by the way…”

“Yeah?”

Hughie spares a genuine smile. “I just wanted to let you know that, uh…I'm glad you're working again. You're kicking ass already.”

Fondness fills your chest and you return the smile before he jokingly barks an order to “kick those papers asses!”, and heads further into the bureau. You sigh at the small mountain of work on your desk before dragging a file towards you. 

Kicking more ass than you know, Hughie. Just you wait.

^^^

Homelander's too-piercing blue eyes stare at you through a thin veil of false contrition as you stare back from your seat in the Flatiron. The act is thinner than a blade's edge, and you're grateful for the filter of the LCD screen and a brown-nosed interviewer hired by Vought between you - and everyone this side of the screen - and the supe. It's the second time you've seen it air today, but it still irks as bad as the first time as Homelander lays his woes and regret about Stormfront for the first time publicly since she'd been “apprehended”.

“Fuck him,” Frenchie mutters, snapping your attention away from the TV and back to the crew. He snaps off the TV just as viciously. “And fuck that nazi bitch, whatever is left of her.”

“Can we focus?,” MM asks at his desk, his fingertips burrowing deep in his temples. “We got a lot to cover and very little time to do it.”

Hughie heaves a sigh and nods, looking at each of those present to recollect the room as he stands in the center of it. “He's right. We gotta crunch these last numbers. I'll make it quick. Let's see…MM is good on the books. You submitted that last bit of papers for that druid-wannabe supe, right?”

“Yes. Ready for you to hand off to your attorneys.”

Hughie flashes a thumbs up before turning to the seats near your desk. “Cool. Frenchie, Kimiko. Looks like I just need that last budgeting sheet for…is this a flamethrower? This looks suspiciously like a flamethro- why?”

Kimiko signs before Frenchie grins, “Research purposes.”

You hold back a snicker as Hughie presses on. “Fuck, fine, whatever. Mallory can deal with that, I guess. So that just leaves-”

“Yours truly.” Butcher's chair creaks next to you at his desk, opposite side of Kimiko, as he swivels slowly with a bit of impatience. “It's all there, mate. Double checked the numbers me self.”

“All of it?,” Hughie presses. “Your ammo and armory form was off a couple digits last month.”

“Yep. Even corrected the pornhub subscription cost on the miscellaneous page.”

“Okay, okay. That was lovely news,” Hughie grimaces as everyone else shares a chuckle. “Bleaching that from my mind and moving on. Budgeting is done. Now for the real meeting.” He glances back and forth between Butcher and MM. “Any new leads on Persuasion or Walsh?”

“Only that Walsh is hiring third party goons to try to keep Vought from crawling up his ass. Ambushed me at the club the girl talked about,” Butcher shrugs. “Patched myself up away from the hospitals, so we don't have any tails there.”

Your mind slips into the memory of your fingers running through Butcher's damp locks. It hazes briefly at the memory of calloused hands and warm lips before you remind yourself that there's a reason you and Butcher are not sitting directly next to each other right now.

“I found two other cases from the same night,” MM cuts in. “One male and one female victim, not as lucky as our first. They were from different sides of town. Vought got to them long before me though. But from what I could gather, the situations are uncannily similar. If this is a test run, this drug is going to spread fast.”

“No faster than what Walsh will allow, you mean,” Hughie interjects. “He still has to keep ahead and under Vought’s radar.”

“Any clues what it's for?,” you ask.

“I have less leads than them,” Frenchie replies, rubbing the back of his head in agitation. “After what happened with the last sample, I've had to take the experiments a little slow.”

Hughie shakes his head. “Not gonna lie, that's not great news for our timeline before the gala. How are we coming on that?”

Frenchie perks up a bit. “That I do have good news. My surveillance equipment should be here within a few days. But I will need to know where in the gala we are playing our roles. I need just a little time to make any necessary changes to it.”

Butcher gestures around the room. “So? Where do you lot all wanna be?”

There's the crackle of paper as Frenchie smooths out the schematics splayed out on his desk, Kimiko and MM leaning to peer behind him. “We all start at the top and work down, right?,” MM begins. “Fifteen floors down. We should stack. Nobody more than one floor apart from each other. So I'll take fourteen and every third floor on.”

Hughie starts ticking off fingers. “So that means…”

“Means MM,” Butcher says, rising from his desk to stride to view the schematics, “will take fourteen, eleven, eight, five, and two. The love birds have to split what's left, and they all converge in the sublevels.”

Kimiko types rapidly into her phone before showing the display to everyone. I want to be closest to either of them if they need backup, it reads. I'll take thirteen down.

“I guess that leaves me with levels divisible by three,” Frenchie shrugs.

“What kind of modifications are you thinking?,” you ask him.

“Mostly wardrobe, so I know how to disguise your surveillance gear.”

Kimiko and Hughie smile, confusing you until you hear a voice behind you pipe up, “I guess I snuck out at the right time then.”

All eyes turn and you find Annie coming into the office. While you feel Butcher's not-so-welcoming smirk bloom from his spot, you and Kimiko each greet her with a warm hug before she greets Hughie the same with a kiss tagged on. “I'm guessing this isn't the budget report we're talking about?,” she asks the room.

“We could go back to that,” Butcher grins. “Being the altruistic soul you are, Starlight, I'm sure you'd be more than happy to make a generous donation to our cause, no? And using that Seven member payroll to stick it to Vought?” He lets out a low whistle. “It'd be poetry.”

“Tempting,” she responds tersely. “But even my money is micromanaged. Getting my charity for at-risk youth off the ground has been like pulling teeth, even with all the good PR Vought is expecting. And the last thing all of you need is for Vought to be sniffing further into my ‘donations’. Don't you think?”

“If you're a stingy bitch, you can just say that.”

“Okay!” Hughie quickly cuts in, placing his thin frame in the direct heat of their glaring. You're surprised he doesn't melt like butter in the thick of it. “Let's remember we're all on the same side here. We'll give you ladies a chance to talk over things while we, uh, find the best place to put our surveillance team.”

“I won't keep her long. The less I know, probably the better. At least in this case.” Annie gives Butcher one more pointed glare before shuffling you off a few paces. “It's been awhile since he's worn a shirt that didn't look like he stole it from a Miami retirement home,” she grumbles.

Oh, you had definitely noticed. He was still wearing the blue shirt from your closet, and Hughie had made a similar comment when he had walked into the Flatiron. Butcher merely brushed it off with something about laundry day. Thwarting away the image of what lay beneath said shirt, all stretched out on your couch, you asked, “We're still on tomorrow then?”

“Yes. I know a guy from my Christ for Capes days, his name is Torsten. He doesn't work for Vought but a lot of his clientele have been supes. He's got a hole in the wall for a shop in Manhattan. He can definitely tailor something for what you need.” 

She glances at Hughie, who is preoccupied arguing with Butcher that no, they can't park the van in the goddamn venue lobby. Then says, “I get wanting to wear something you can fight in. But can you? Not saying you don't know how to take care of yourself. I'm just hoping you're going to have enough time to learn what you need.”

You wave at the team as MM seems to get them back on track over the schematics. “If there's anybody that can get me ready with this kind of time crunch, it's these guys. Right?”

Her eyes crinkle as she looks over each of them. “I mean…kinda? A little. I don't think their insurance would agree, but...”

“Says the one who can take a bullet to the chest,” you jibe back.

“Well I don't know what the hell they'll teach you. But we'll get you fitted for it.”

The idea of pitching Annie to supplement your training flits in your brain. What better way to learn than from the one friendly supe in your corner? But immediately you reject it. Annie is already under constant suspicion from the Seven, Homelander most of all. Not to mention what little spare time she has is just that - very little. And again, would she be able to hide your training from Hughie till the right time? Especially if she knew Butcher was involved, in more ways than one?

Not likely, the little voice huffs.

“Hughie told you about meeting at the apartment at 4, right?,” she asks, dragging you from your thoughts.

You nod.

“Okay. We'll meet there, then head to Torsten's. My window will be small though before I have to get back to the tower. So think about what you might like for the gala. He's a damn good tailor but not a miracle worker, and we're calling it pretty tight as is.”

“Sounds good. But one problem. I don't exactly have a budget for a custom fit. And Butcher wasn't completely wrong about needing financing for this.”

Annie shakes her head. “Don't worry about it. Torsten owes me a favor anyway. And it helps me get away from the tower for a time. Which…” She glances at the clock on her phone. “...I am nearly out of myself already.”

“You're not staying?”

“No,” she sighs. “I wanted to get the details to you in person, less risk of our plans being tracked or leaked that way. That and I need to talk to Hughie for a bit. I meant what I said about knowing less. Our resident asshole-”

“Which one?,” you ask in a cheeky tone.

“Our resident asshole,” she continues, “doesn't need any more reason to doubt my intentions. The less I know, the safer all of us will be if shit hits the fan, especially with Vought. Gotta keep my nose clean after the last time I was accused of treason, too.”

“I appreciate your help, Annie.” You glance over at Hughie and Butcher, still mapping out the eventual parking spot of the surveillance van. You notice MM approaching you. “I'll let you talk to your boy toy and see you tomorrow. I have a feeling I'm needed now.”

“That would be correct,” the big man says as he steps up beside you. “We need to start working on your ability to read the room. More like you should've started yesterday. So if you need anything, snacks, restroom break, whatever - now is the time. We're gonna be here late tonight.”

You give Annie another hug before she motions for Hughie to join her for a hushed discussion. You move back towards the others and the venue map with MM. “So what does this entail?”

“Body language is the big one. You use it all the time, you just don't know it. A lot of social cues are given and read more subconsciously. Your role in this depends on it.”

As Hughie and Annie call out a good night, explaining that they needed to headout, Butcher waves them off dismissively and walks towards his desk at the end of the office. “Already we got a snag in your little lesson here, MM. You think four of us is gonna be the same as reading a packed ballroom?”

“No, I think we are her training wheels and that's better than nothing.” There's a hint of exasperation in his tone. You have the distinct impression that Butcher has voiced his charming opinions to the crew on you being their spy for the event. If said impression was right, then at least you knew the crew was on your side.

Frenchie slides across his own desk with a small smile at the corners of his mouth. He disappears for a brief second before bobbing back up with a Bluetooth speaker, and begins setting it up with his phone.

MM watches him incredulously, palms up in confusion. “The fuck is he doin’? The fuck you doin’, Frenchie?”

“I am setting up for the lesson. We are teaching her body language cues, the gala is in a ballroom…” He thumbs over his phone screen before beaming at you. “So dancing serves for both, non?”

MM wipes a hand over his face as Kimiko sticks out her hands in invitation to Frenchie. “Oh my god, fucking really?”

“We're working, not fucking about!,” Butcher growls as a song comes on at random. The sound of a howl and three single notes flow out of the speaker, and Frenchie looks at it with doubt. But he shrugs and begins to turn and shuffle about with Kimiko.

You recognize now that his random playlist had chosen “Lil’ Red Riding Hood”. Not something you even expected with all the French rap you usually heard him play. You highly doubt this will be played at the gala either, but you just smile, enjoying the duo's antics as MM vents his frustration. 

“As you can see, Kimiko's body language is open. She smiles! She is relaxed!”

“Fuckin’ Christ, Frenchie…”

You nod with thick enthusiasm, ignoring Butcher grumbling. “Yes, yes. I see.”

The duo continue to wheel about in the limited space as the song progresses. “Now notice that both of us have some tension in our shoulders? That is from suppression. Why?”

“Why?,” you play along.

“To not laugh at these two boring fuckers!”

MM flips them both the finger, which they return in kind. After another moment, MM finally steps forward. “Hold on, hold on. Let's at least do this proper. Kimiko? May have your hand?”

They paused, confused. But you catch a glint in MM's eyes and you give her the thumbs up. To Frenchie’s surprise, MM takes her hand, doing his best to maintain proper dance form with the size difference. He makes a “eyes on me” motion at you.

“Watch and learn. If you didn't notice, poor Kimiko's body language was giving all the subtle signs of distress.” He begins to move into a different dance than the awkward shuffle from before. “And why? She needed saving. Because he, and his white ass, ain't got no rhythm, and this is clearly a motherfucking tango!”

“Oh fuck you! You think I can't fucking tango?”

MM sweeps Kimiko further away. “Nah, you don't get her back now. You hijack my lesson, I hijack your dance partner.”

You can't help but laugh as Frenchie stomps after them, apparently offended, and MM dancing just out of reach round the office with Kimiko standing on his toes. After the apprehension you'd had about this meeting, this is a pleasant change of pace. But you know the song is just about over, and there's still work to be done. Not to mention there was still the hardass who definitely would not be dancing.

You tear your eyes from the three cavorting about, ready to catch Butcher scowling across the room. Instead, you catch him taking advantage of the trio's distraction to stare right at you. A small knowing smirk appears as the last verse plays.

Lil’ Red Riding Hood

You sure are looking good

You're everything a big bad wolf could want.

You're hit with the memory of that night at the motel, him staring up at you with that same damn look. Those wolfish eyes. He's being awfully bold, right in front of the others. But was he really anything else?

You are not going to make this easy, are you?, you think.

And in the blink of an eye, it vanishes and he is glowering at the others. Teaching you not to be distracted it would seem. He approaches them as they settle. “Turn the music off, and it stays off,” he snaps. “All she's learned in the last three minutes is how to look like a right wanker in a crowd. Which is exactly what she doesn't fucking need when she's supposed to sneak in, and then sneak the fuck out.”

He snatches Frenchie's phone and tosses it to him. Giving the other two one last huff, he turns to you. “Let's start with identifying when someone has a concealed weapon. Something you'll actually fucking use…”

^^^

Hours later, far later than you had even expected, you sit in Butcher's car, head propped against the cool glass of the window. You had originally hoped that he would insist on a rolling session after the training you'd done with the Boys. Or rather a rolling session and seeing where it would lead. But when Butcher had volunteered to drive you home - before the others could - on the ride in the elevator down, he had informed you that he would be out looking for leads again.

You admit, you were a little disappointed. But turning your head to look at him in the passing lights, you see just a trace of fatigue in the wrinkles by his eyes. A ghost of his concussion. And to be honest, you were still a little haggard from a long day, and the long night before playing Florence Nightingale to his stubborn ass. It was better this way.

That didn't stop him from cursing your fatigue. He peeled his hand off the steering wheel and placed it on your knee, rubbing firm circles there with the pad of his thumb. Just like that night at the motel, whistling low and slow that damn song in the Flatiron, as if in case you weren't remembering it.

You arched one eyebrow at him as he parked at the curb outside your building. He arched one back at you with a devilish look. “What? Something on yer mind, love?”

“Just wondering if I'm going to have to patch you up again tonight.”

“Are you now?” His voice is thick with disbelief. He gives your thigh a warm squeeze. “That all?”

“Yep.” You make sure not to bat an eye. “Not much else to think about tonight.”

“Well in that case…” The seat creaks as he leans in and kisses you. Firm and slow. Like that hand that glides up your thigh. Like the way he presses it against the center seam of your jeans…

And he pulls away just as you inhale sharply. “...In that case, since you got nothing to think about, I'll let you dance on up to bed for the night.” He unbuckles your seat belt for you with a cocky twist of his lip.

Fucker.

“Yeah. Not much to think about.” You make no attempt at hiding the frustration in your tone. You hear Butcher chuckle as you step out of the car.

“Give Tinkerbell my regards tomorrow,” he nods. Then with a wink, “And keep that bed warm in case I need a nurse, yeah? Be seeing you real soon, love.”

He closes the door and peels out into the road. You grit your teeth at how painfully aware you are of exactly how your jeans sit now. But you shake your head with a smile as you watch his taillights shrink. Because something tells you that the reason he peeled out was to keep him from stepping out of that car with you.

[rorywritesjunk]

I know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder

Buggy loves that you have a pair of glasses for every day of the week. Rating: R because hints at sexy times. Warning: None. Don't take glasses off someone's face or you'll definitely see hands coming atcha. (Buggy doesn't do such a thing but it's hinted). A/N: Request from an Anon! I wear glasses myself so this gave me a reason to go on Warby Parker's site to get some inspiration for frames. Also having your glasses fog up when you talk to someone is the most embarrassing and obnoxious thing I've ever had happen to me with glasses.

Title comes from "Wilson (Expensive Mistake)" by Fall Out Boy.

One of Buggy’s favorite things about you was the fact that you wore glasses. He knew it was something that some people were embarrassed by, not wanting something on their face that would draw attention to them (a topic he knew a lot about), but you didn’t care. One thing he loved was the fact that you didn’t have one pair of glasses, you actually had seven pairs, all different colors and styles depending on your mood and how you were feeling that day. 

Your thick black rimmed ones were the ones you did wear the most when you were working. He invited you onto the crew to do carpentry, and while he knew you wore those black rimmed glasses the most, he often saw you working in a pair of safety glasses that protected your eyes from splinters and other dangerous things. Your regular pair would be kept in a case for safety and in your tool box, away from curious pirate captains who just wanted to try them on and see how they felt on his face with his nose. 

When you had down time you loved cooking and baking, recipe books stacked everywhere while you stumbled about the kitchen. You had a pair of thin frames in rose gold that when you cooked they would sit on the edge of your nose so you could see over the top of them while you read the recipes. Buggy saw that once and was confused. Didn’t you need them to see? Why did it look like you weren’t using them?

“I’m nearsighted, Captain.” You told him after he called you out on it. “I can’t see things far away but up close I’m fine.”

“So why do you wear them all the time then?” He asked as he looked over your shoulder to see what you were making. It looked like chocolate frosting. Without warning, he reached down and dipped his finger into the bowl, scooping up some to pop into his mouth. “Betcha didn’t see that comin’ and it was right in front of you.”

You grinned at him and pointed to a small bowl on the counter. “Maybe you need glasses. I set that bowl aside for sneaky pirates looking to taste test.”

Well, he didn’t like being called sneaky or you insinuating he couldn’t see, so he poked your cheek gently with his chocolatey finger before grabbing the small bowl and retreating to the table, leaving you to bake in peace for a little bit.

And it was always a nice little surprise when he got to see what pair you chose for the day. Sometimes he tried guessing before he saw you in the morning, wondering if you’d wear green frames or maybe those blue frames that matched his hair color. You had another pair of wired rim glasses in black, but those were probably his least favorite of the bunch because he didn’t think they were flashy enough for you, and when you took them off your face when you did some tasks, he wondered if he could hide them away so you would go get a different pair to put on.

He actually attempted it once when you set your glasses on your tool box, but you caught him so he pretended he was cleaning the lenses for you. While you appreciated the gesture, his dirty shirt just left smudge marks all over the lenses. He didn’t try again after that.

The cat-eyed frames were a shape he was definitely intrigued by, but when he compared them to Richie’s eyes, he wasn’t sure which was correct (they looked nothing like the lion’s large eyes). He liked them on you when you would dress up, like when he took you out drinking one night and your cheeks were pink from the alcohol, and he definitely noticed how your lenses fogged up when you were talking to him, asking questions and getting to know your captain. They were a pair that when he knocked them off your face when he kissed you, he wasn’t sorry if they got a little crooked.

However, one of his favorite things was when the two of you would be in bed and relaxing. Buggy would be laying across the bed, using your lap as a pillow while you read a book and played with his hair,  your glasses sitting on top of your head and pushing your hair back out of your face. It was something simple, not very flashy, and he liked to see it because he thought maybe you felt safe enough to do it around him. 

The rest of the crew rarely saw you without glasses on your face, but he was blessed with it, that you trusted him to keep your frames safe, like when you’d fall asleep wearing them after a long day, he’d remove them from your face and set them aside with the lenses up, knowing they could be scratched if he wasn’t careful. Or how you’d hand them to him to set aside before you’d start making out with him on his throne or in bed or anywhere where he could use his Chop Chop ability to get them out of harm’s way when you’d start kissing him.

And once you showed him how to properly clean the lenses, he would do it in the morning for you after you picked out the ones you would wear for the day. It was a sweet gesture, one you weren’t expecting, but you appreciated it. 

It also took a few months before he felt brave to ask that one simple question of, “Can I try a pair on? I want to see what they look like on my face.”

He thought maybe you were insulted by the way you looked at him, but then you bounced off the bed to where you kept them, bringing six pairs back for him to choose from. Honestly, you were waiting for him to ask, and you appreciated that he didn’t just take them off your face to see, though there were times it was obvious he wanted to with the way he’d reach up to touch your face, only to pull his hand back at the last second. 

“Pick one!” You said as you set them down in front of him. “Or do you want to try the ones I’m wearing now?”

“Eager to see me wear’em, aren’t you?” He grinned as he picked up the blue pair. You took them out of his hands, carefully unfolding the arms of the frames before placing them on his face. You were mindful of his nose, making sure the bridge didn’t bump it, pleased that they seemed to sit just fine. “Holy shit, this is how you see the world? It’s…weird.”

“Well, they will be weird for you because they are made for my eyes, not yours.” You chuckled as you leaned over to adjust them on his face just a bit. “Don’t look through them for too long or you may get a headache, Buggy.”

He squinted at you through the lenses for a moment, trying to get you into focus, but it was no use. You appeared distorted to him as he looked through them, but he didn’t mind because when he pushed the frames down a bit to look over the top of them as he had seen you do many times, he was surprised by how you were looking at him. 

It was the same way you looked at him every time you started to take your clothes off, and well, this time was no different, except you were removing the glasses from his face to keep them safe, setting them aside with the rest before you kissed him. 

“Maybe we see about getting you a pair, Buggy.” You murmured against his lips as you started to unbutton his shirt. He fumbled with your shirt, cursing that you wore a pullover top today instead of something with buttons. He didn’t want to stop kissing you. “A pair with fake lenses.”

“They make those?” Was his muffled response as you finally slipped your shirt off, tossing it aside. “Won’t it be weird?”

“It’s our little secret.” You promised him as you started to take your glasses off, but he stopped you, pushing your hands away from your face.

“No, no, leave them on.” He told you with a smirk. “Need to be sure you’ll see everything I’m gonna do to ya, y’know.”

[willowser]

For the fanfic trope game: maybe Neighbour Touya and awful first meeting ?

I loved reading what you wrote for Bakugou Soulmate first time mashup ❤️

LOL OKAY THIS SOUNDS CUTE ! and tysm !!! i'm so glad you enjoyed it !!! 🥺✨💕

so you move in next door to the todoroki's and the first one you meet is fuyumi !!! she's getting out of her little cute car, bringing some groceries inside as you're hauling boxes up to your room from the moving van. and she's very nice ! very sweet ! about your age and you're excited about the possibility of having a friend already !

she tells you a little bit about her family later, when you two go walking around the neighborhood after the sun has started to set and the evening has begun to cool things down. her parents are divorced and she and her brothers live with her mother ! though she and the two younger ones still see their father for certain holidays and in small stints in the summer. she doesn't say much about her other brother, and you don't ask, trying to soak it all up like a sponge.

over the course of the first week, you meet all of them. all of them. little shouto who seems wholly uninterested in you — you can't tell if he's shy or just more interested in the little gaming system he keeps in his hands at all times — and natuso, who blushes when you introduce yourself. rei, who is so sweet ! and invites you to stay for dinner, which you do, and you and fuyumi help her in the kitchen and have a good time ! you meet enji for just a moment, near the end of the week when he comes to visit rei, a serious, withdrawn look on his face that sends you and the kiddos outside. you only barely catch him saying something about touya, but then yumi is rolling her eyes and natsuo is asking you something about having a boyfriend.

it's not until a little later that you're trying to sleep that you hear something OBNOXIOUS outside, like a fist against a window and some ridiculous noise that could be scary if you think too much about it. when you take a peek, there's some dark-haired guy trying to climb the side of the todoroki house, wobbling dangerously and barely hanging on. you spend a moment watching him, wondering if you should maybe call the police, but then the window opens and natsuo sticks his little head out — and plants a hand on his face and pushes him off the house afhahfahf

all the floodlights come on and he's stumbling to his feet just to face plant in the grass, and he looks up when you accidentally laugh out loud. even in the dark, you can see the face he makes at you, before he's getting to his feet and scaling the side of your house, too. you should probably be afraid, but natsuo is still looking out his own window, watching with his mouth open as this guy starts knocking and hissing to be let in.

you don't know why you do. maybe because he's a little cute up close and both natsuo and now shouto don't seem afraid as they watch you from across the yard. just as you yank open your window and he forces himself in, you catch rei coming around the side of the house with a flashlight, arms crossed as she calls out, "touya!" all exasperated. he just face plants into your room and groans into the carpet.

he doesn't move for a minute and when you lightly kick him in the arm, he sits up and is sort of drooling. the bitter smell of alcohol hits you terribly, looking at his handsome, scuffed up face, and he just blinks his bright blue eyes up at you slowly.

he slurs, "you th'neighbor?"

"uh, yeah," you raise an eyebrow, "that's why i'm in the house next door."

it makes him — touya — huff. "cute," he grins enough that his dimples show; the same ones shouto has, the one fuyumi has in her right cheek. and then he groans again, slumping back on your floor as he covers his mouth. "much as 'm enjoyin' this, 'm 'boutta hurl all over your rug."

you barely manage to drag him down the hall to your bathroom.

✨ trope game ! ✨

[r4vn]

kai w those promots u reposted ill die

“I don’t mind wasting time on you.”

something where the reader hates kai more and is an overall bitch but kai is the only one who tried to talk to her despite her attitude, but he accidentally got on her bad side and he got petty and just started being a dick (as deserved) to her. for no rsn she gets mad cs of the way hes treating her and they argue, hes gen pissed cs he tries so hard for her, and she makes it seem like hes like such a bad person to her + even insults him and goes personal. hes vv pissed (angsty except put everything on the reader) its sad cs hes so sweet to her —doesnt have to be smut exactly (but it so can) cause idk where you’d put that but ill take wtv idea fr

OR OR i know how dumb ts is for the reader to be wrong so if u wanna find a character or make sb up feel free idk +so sorry ab the size of this my way witj keeping msgs brief are critical

—DYNAMIC [prompt]

kaı x fem!character

w.c: 3,150

disclaimers: enemies to lovers, sweet!kai, angstttt!, fluff¿, meanfem!character, no smut sorryz, the blue doesn't exist in this lol, happy ending, not many warnings tbh

—synopsis: you never rlly understood why kai followed you around like an annoying puppy. but soon you begin to see how much time he wastes with you, or wants to waste.

a/n: from the enemies tl lovers prompt(s) i reblogged couple of days ago :) SORRY FOR THE WAIT. TY 4 READING ♡

「divider by @/ cafekitsune」

nahara wasn't particularly liked on the ship. she wasn't a prissy bitch like julie was or super serious like sela, but her most known attribute was being brutally honest and pessimistic. she was the only one to show such traits.

of course character traits are complex, like a color wheel. anything and everything can overlap. nahara has friends ,yes, due to those who compliment her traits are best compatible. sela and nahara got along well during class time. meanwhile, julie and zandie were two-faced drama queens, snakes the size of humans. though, nahara had two friends who were on the sweeter side. laura, who was a shy sweet girl and penelope who was more of a blunt nerd, and they were seen often together.

some particular characteristics are hard to blend with nahara's personality, but they jump between interest and irritability.

charisma. unpredictability. and of course, persistence. kai checked all those boxes off. if only he wasn't obnoxious and he would linger more on the interest zone more.

"you think chris sleeps with sela? i know zac wonders." kai spoke with a hint of amusement as he held up a pair of pliers for her to grab when ready. nahara sighs loudly to symbolize her annoyance.

"no, kai. i don't care who sticks their stick in someone's hole." the deep auburn sighs out. she turns to kai, who is holding her tool like a servant. she grabbed the pliers and went back to the wiring.

"thanks." she mumbled.

"always," kai grinned in content. "now, are you sure you dont care hara?" kai grins, biting back a laugh. nahara clenched her jaw to hold back on becoming flustered.

"kai has anyone ever told you're a super interesting character?" nahara questioned. the slightest of faux politeness laced her voice, but of course kai didn't catch it. he was too caught up in her even initiating conversation. he brightened at her question, forcing his smile to look subtle.

"u–uh no why? am i that interesting..super interesting?" he queried with hope, fidgeting with the back of his curly hair. nahara shrugged, carefully clicking wires in the ship software.

"well you certainly are special.." kai heard her mumble. he saw a small smile pushing at her lips. she was being sarcastic.

"ha ha. very funny nahara." kai slumped his shoulders and rolled his eyes. nahara chuckled to herself and kai's heart fluttered. he couldn't help but smile too.

kai was quietly known to help nahara around the ship. whether it was just holding her tools, cleaning around her as she continued to work, or simply helping her with little tasks. unfortunately in return, nahara doesn't fully acknowledge his actions, scolding and being being a smart ass as he helps her. he plays along with being naturally charismatic and tries to make her smile. though she would ever admit that she gets flustered from the brunette male easily.

when they were young on the ship, nahara often either socialized with sela or by herself. kai would naturally talk to others. growing up into pre-teens, kai would try to strike up conversations with nahara whenever in class, and quickly got shut down most times. other times, she would have to talk to him due to group work. fast forward to now, he enjoys any time he gets with her. but there is a striking difference between them.

regarding the unspoken 'popular' spectrum, nahara landed more in the middle. kai was on the higher end of popularity. the only time they would cross paths was while eating, doing the same ship tasks, and in the sparring room.

recently, kai has been more persistent with his actions. nahara didn't know why, but it was getting more unbearable as days went by. within the past week, laura and penelope had been gossiping with nahara about kai. they'd ask why she hasn't pursued him and how he is exceptionally handsome.

"nahara, why haven't you gone for him? he seems sweet." penelope asks, fidgeting with a little pen. laura nodded quickly, agreeing with the blonde

"yeah until zachary comes around, then he is an obnoxious manwhore and wants to talk to everyone." nahara replies, staring outside the window that separated them and space. penelope groans dramatically, waving a hand in the air.

"he's like a completely different person with you! he seems genuine! think about it please, yeah?" laura said, cutting in. nahara did not respond, instead changing the topic. she already sees him everyday involuntarily. she didn't want to think of him in her room. after gossiping, penelope and laura left nahara with her thoughts.

unfortunately, she began to think about her and kai in their early teens and how extroverted he was. he always was involved in any social group, attatched to the hip with zachary. hara wasn't interested in such group talks. she would instead sit in the med bay and memorize tools with sela. her and sela aren't best friends, but they were pretty close and enjoyed each other's company.

kai went through a small phase of scaring nahara to start conversation. he would pop out behind a corner and nahara would be startled and annoyed, walking away. of course, kai would follow and try to chat it up with her. nahara chuckled at the memories. suddenly, she felt a small ache in her stomach, gulping.

her brain began to play every single memory of kai with her, the ache becoming more prominent. she sat up in her bed, holding her abdomen. her mind focused on his features next, his eyes, hair, lips. nahara stood up, pacing her room.

is this..do i...

"nope.. nope nope. i do not.." she mumbled to herself. she hit her own head with the palm of her hand to quickly disperse the memories. to get out of her thoughts, she went to shower, then came back to her room to sleep, tossing and turning all night.

°°°

"you okay? you look.." started laura.

"like i didn't sleep? yeah, i didn't. thanks for noticing." nahara answered bluntly as she got her tray of food. all three girls sat down at an empty table before eating. nahara occasionally added in a comment or two in penelope and laura's conversation about space theories again.

"well i know we are only the first generation of three, but what if we make something that makes us live to see the planet? all of us?" penelope asked before eating a piece of fruit.

"immortality isn't always a good thing. imagine being cursed with immortality–" kai immediately sat down in the empty seat next to laura with his tray and a smile.

"i think immortality would be pretty cool, don't you think nahara?" he asked, diverting the attention to the auburn brunette. hara sighed and shrugged, eating her food.

"i think i'd rather die than deal with two generations, let alone already raising one." she stated, getting a laugh from kai.

"what? you don't like kids? sooner or later you're going to have to find someone." kai spoke with amusement. laura and penelope gave each other a look, silently giggling before continuing to eat their food.

°°°

"nahara, laura, kai, and tayo, you're all on security wiring." chris stated. the auburn rolled her eyes hearing that she has to do splicing and wiring again with kai. not necessarily with kai but he always finds a way to get stuck sith doing his tasks right next to her

"looks like we are stuck together again, hara." kai nudges nahara's shoulder with a cheeky grin. she sighs and nods, rubbing her temples as the group walked to the security room. the sleep deprivation was getting to her now and they were only halfway through the day.

chris handed each of the teens wiring kits to each of them and everyone got to work. in the recent days, security had been glitching and cutting out, and some kids were taking advantage and slacking on tasks. so chris has been enforcing those to fix it as fast as possible to stay on course.

nahara was more avoidant to kai than usual, and he noticed everything about her. so he damn sure saw how she didn't even bother to complain about working with him again. kai didn't say anything just yet, instead doing his usual tasks; subtly helping nahara around.

he sat next to her, working on opening his new wires silently. hara was already taking out old ones from the security switch boards. kai stole glances, watching how careful she worked. as rough-edged as she was as a person, kai wondered if her touch was the same too. or if it was the opposite, and her touch was as tender as her looks.

kai quickly swatted away his thoughts, clearing his throat. as soon as he opened his mouth to start a conversation, he noticed nahara was struggling with connecting wires. she seemed to be losing her cool quickly, mumbling curses under her breath.

"hey– hara, you want some help?" kai pointed to her hands. they seemed to shake, but of course she didn't acknowledge it.

"no. im fine, thanks." nahara murmured, her hands slipping at the wire every few seconds. kai stayed quiet and watched, frowning at the state she was in.

"nahara, are you sure? just take a break." kai placed his wiring down. he fully turned his body to her and closely watched her body language. she seemed on the brink of losing it.

"i’m fine, kai." she said again, more firmly this time. the wiring clipped off from the board again and nahara's eyes glazed over from frustration.

"hara stop being stubborn and let me help–" kai finally had enough of watching her suffer and grabbed ahold of her hand along with the wires she held. she flinched and immediately broke.

"for god's sake kai i said i got it!" nahara pushed kai back, snatching her hand away from his. she immediately stood up away from the now shocked brunette male. kai furrowed his brows and stood up, confused and his chest aching.

"whats your problem? im just trying to help. like i always do!" kai asked loudly. the other began to look and watch the altercation unfold.

"you're my problem kai. i never asked for your help. i never asked for you to sit with me. i never asked to know you!" kai clenched his jaw at her words. they sliced through him like a serrated knife.

"everyone think you're this sweet, extroverted social butterfly when in reality you're an obnoxious leech who can't detach himself from me and i hate it! i'm sick of you!" nahara yelled out. her heart pounded in her ears and her hands trembled at her sides. kai stayed silent, staring at her with eyes filled of disbelief and hurt. his chest ached, burned of anxiety. he took a step towards her, his brown eyes daring into hers before opening his mouth.

"fuck you, nahara." her heart jumped, stopped even. the slightest of shock painted her face from such sharp words. kai stepped away from her and sat back down, working on his wiring. nahara said nothing in return, instead silently taking her exit and leaving kai where he was.

°°°

it had been 2 days since kai and nahara's fall out, and no one spoke about it. of course, kai was still loved and was very social with others. meanwhile, nahara was treated the same, but with more silent stares. she couldn't care less though. she only relied on those she truly spoke to, laura, penelope, and sela.

"are you sure, you're alright nahara?" sela asked quietly at the table. the three girls worried for nahara. ever since the fight with kai, she had become even more detached. she spoke less within group conversation and only did her tasks. she spaced out alot during class time and even in the medbay with sela.

"mhm." hara nodded at sela's question. she wore a bored expression on her face. laura and penelope couldn't even read her. a group of people started getting louder with laughter all of a sudden and it caught hara's attention. her eyes traveled to the labeled 'popular table', watching kai julie, zac, zandie, and kai laughed and converted. as nahara's eyes wandered to kai, they eyes met, hara looking away first and she immediately stood, dumping her tray before leaving.

as she walked to the other main room for tasks, she noticed everything felt quieter. maybe it was because kai wasn't yapping in her ear about the future but there was a slight ring in her ear from the silence. her headspace felt more gloomy and her chest had a dull ache. she didn't know why. she didn't like it because she did what she wanted to do. she got kai away from her. he annoyed her. she didn't like him. she couldn't stand him actually.

she couldn't stand him, yet he inevitably flooded her mind.

"nahara, you're on wires again. just finished the last few replacement wirings and you can be dismissed." chris said, typing away on a tablet. nahara did not protest, instead taking her electrical packet and headed back into the security room. as she sat in her spot, she noticed kai a couple rows down, conversing with julie as they worked together. she mentally cringed at the sight, rolling her eyes. nahara detached the old set of wires from the data box, being extremely delicate. she sure as hell didn't want to get electrocuted by a 1200 volt charge. her ears subconsciously listened toward kai and julie's conversation.

she could hear julie's sickening giggles from kai just rambling about nothing. nahara didn't know how to feel about it. maybe it should have been her, and not kai. but it was her. it was nahara. and she lost her opportunity.

"oh wow your arms look nice kai.." julie giggled out. hara’s head twitched from restaurant. she damn near broke her neck to look at them but subconsciously stopped herself. she would have immediately looked guilty. nahara tried her best to focus on the wires to get out of there quicker. she began to quickly unravel the new pack of colored wires and began to reconnect them to the box. she started mentally saying her abc's to block out her interest in their conversation. she hated her brain. she half wanted to stick the end of exposed wires into her ears and destroy all her hearing.

"oh yeah? thanks for noticing." he replied to the short curly brunette. she giggled again.

ugh god please shut up..

"of course, have you been doing something different?" nahara heard her ask in a meek tone.

nahara sighed to herself briskly. she was almost done now, she began inserting the new wires, her head was spinning with anxiety. she truly believed ignorance was bliss and she wanted to hear nothing of this conversation right now.

"i guess recently i've had, well, more time on my hands–" suddenly, a loud zap, followed by a bright spark ignited from nahara's direction. she yelped loudly, quickly scrambling away from the sparking circuit box. everyone stopped what they were doing and looked towards nahara's direction, noticing she was holding her arm. kai, the only one snapping out of his shock, immediately ran to the emergency shut off button and turned off the electricity to the security room. the room fell silent, everyone's eyes landing on nahara.

nahara slowed her shallow breathing, swallowing thickly from anxiety. she looked at everyone in the room, her eyes falling on kai last. it took every ounce of tall brunette's being to not run to her aid. he stood like everyone else, being the only one to visibly express concern. nahara's eyes glazed over as she picked herself up and walked briskly out of the room.

tears trailed her face as she walked the halls. she was hurt, both mentally and physically. though it was her fault for her own hurt. she ran away from her feelings and in the end the person who she thought of when in danger did not immediately come to her aid, and it was her fault.

she missed it. missed how he'd drop everything to help her. missed how he helped her even when she didnt want it. she missed him.

she quickly ran to the medbay, crying out of frustration. she opened several cabinets for her tools and sat down in a rolling chair before placing her arm on a small sterile metal table. she sniffled, gently coating her electrical burn with a thin layer of antibiotic gel. she was lucky it only left a surface burn and did not electrocute her entire body. she placed the gauze on top, sighing out in even more frustration as it wouldn't stay in place for her to wrap. tears welled up in her eyes again, a feeling of helplessness taking over.

"nahara..c'mere let me see." a voice calls out. out of the corner of her eyes, she could see a familiar tall brunette walking through the open door with anxiousness in every stride he took. closing the door behind him, he swiftly grabbed a chair and sat across from her to help. hara sniffled and took the gauze away from kai's reach before he could grab it. she looked down at her arm to avoid eye contact.

"don't bother wasting your time. you know i'm basically right behind sela in medical training–" abruptly, she swung her head back quickly at the touch of kai's hand on her wrist, pulling her arm towards him. he grabs the gauze with a soft smile.

"i don't mind wasting time on you." she flushed a bright red and avoided eye contact, sitting silently. kai could see her nose had a tint to it, keeping down a laugh. he silently dressed her wound, wrapping her forearm carefully. the auburn got goosebumps every few seconds from the tips of his fingers tenderly touching her skin. as he finished, kai raised her arm which caused her to finally look at him, her lips parting as she watched him plant a soft kiss on her skin. nahara gently pulled away before diverting her gaze. she got up to walk away from him, already terribly flustered.

"thanks–" though kai stood up right after her and grabbed her wrist, spinning her smoothly into his body. he wasn't done with her. hi cupped the side of her face and her waist before capturing her lips. the kiss was gentle, nahara's body immediately relaxed under his touch. her anxiety slowly dispersed under him. that gloomy cloud in her head finally let the sun shine through. she felt lighter. nahara slowly pulled away and kai smiled softly, their brown and hazel eyes mixing.

"always."

for the first time, kai saw her eyes soften towards him, and he took in every moment of her loving gaze.

© r4vn ²⁰²⁴, do not repost my work.

much love. ♡

[amethystfallenangel]

soda (pilot kelson x reader)

You groan, swatting the fly away from the counter. It's too hot behind this counter, you've been working long hours at this gas station. Customers are rude, impatient and in a rush. And you're stuck here, forced to be professional and patient. You've even gotten bored of your phone, so you dash it onto the counter, huffing and leaning against the boxes behind you, opening one button of your t-shirt because of the unbearable midday heat.

Suddenly, you hear the rev of an engine outside and the squeak of tires. Here we go again, another frustrating customer to make this infernal wait even worse than it already is. You pay no attention to the two customers who saunter into the shop, laughing obnoxiously, but as they stumble to the counter, you grin slightly. They're quite young, around your age, if not one or two years younger. One of them has a shaved mullet and wild eyes, with a loose tank top and a stupidly wide grin. He's busy checking out the bubble-gum selection, commenting aimlessly on each flavour. His friend, however, seems unbothered, his downturned blue eyes staring at you softly. He has messy hair, the brown strands sticking out weirdly. He fiddles with the zipper of his bomber jacket, offering you a crooked smile. He speaks to you in a slurred, clumsy voice, as if completely faded.

"What soda do you recommend?"

You sigh, smiling sheepishly.

"Uh, I don't know. Fanta, maybe."

He leans over the counter, clasping his hands, lifting his bushy eyebrows and gazing at you with his puppy-like eyes.

"You like citrus drinks?"

"Yeah, sure." His attempt at making conversation is terrible, but it's cute. You glance quickly at his friend, who is still rambling on to himself about the flavours of bubble gum.

"Citrus drinks suck. I prefer Coke, or Dr Pepper."

You nod blindly.

"Uh, yeah, we have Coca Cola too." You point to the fridges where the cold drinks are.

He narrows his eyes playfully, and then ambles off curiously, promptly returning with three cans of soda.

One Coke, one Dr Pepper and... a Fanta?

You tilt your head at him, a question in your eye.

His friend, who you later learn is called Jack, interrupts, still grinning.

"That's his way of asking you to hang out with us. Oh, I'll have the strawberry bubble gum too. Thanks, sweetheart." He places a 15 dollar bill on the counter, but before you can hand him his change, he skips away, whistling, back to the car, with his Dr Pepper and his bubble gum.

You're left with the droopy eyed young man, still leaning across the counter with a playful smirk. And of the soda, obviously.

You chuckle, twirling a piece of your hair from under your cap, as you lean across the counter yourself, your shirt a little too revealing for the young man not to smirk a little wider.

"So, soda boy, what's your name?"

"Why, you wanna buy me a drink?" he teases.

You chuckle lowly, glancing at your Fanta and his Coca Cola. Good come back. He's quite witty, clearly. And playful.

"Thanks for the soda, by the way," you hum. "I'm still on duty, though. I'm not sure I can hang out with you guys. I appreciate the offer, of course."

"We're in the nearby town till tomorrow, though," he croons, edging closer to your face. You shake your head, amused.

"That so? Fine, then. I could use a night out. You guys aren't serial killers or thieves or anything, right?"

He giggles, popping open his can and taking a sip.

"Would that make us more interesting?"

"Not exactly the word I would use. You still haven't told me your name by the way."

"Pilot. I'm Pilot Kelson" He holds out his hand comically.

"Pilot? That's an interesting name." You go to shake his hand, but instead he takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on the back, looking back at you with a loud laugh.

"You're very bold, Pilot. Or maybe just completely high."

"Does it matter?"

"I don't mind. Pick me up at 6 tonight, soda boy." You grin and then place a quick kiss on his cheek. His jaw drops in a cheeky grin, and he winks as he walks away.

Your shift was boring. Two more smug faced truckers came in for a few beers, nothing special. When your shift ends, a car is already waiting outside, and as you leave the shop, jamming the door for the next person to start their shift, the car headlights are flashing wildly, Pilot and Jack waving their arms frantically out of the windows. You giggle at them being unnecessarily noisy, wondering what on earth you've gotten yourself into. Your Fanta is still in your bag.

"Hey soda boy," you joke, as you get in the back of their messy car. His friend turns his attention to you, eyeing you up and down greedily, but somewhat respectfully.

"I'm Jack, by the way," he says, his eyes sultry.

"Nice to meet you, Jack."

You drive to a lively, crowded bar. Inside, there are road stop signs and buffalo skulls as decorations. It smells strongly of whiskey, tobacco and steak pies. There are multiple coloured jukeboxes, pool tables, booths and flickering warm overhead lamps. You know this bar well, you used to come here with your old man way before he became a trucker. You smile to yourself as you lean over the sticky, heavy oak counter and greet the bartender. Jack already seems to be in conversation with a cute blonde in a leather skirt. The pair choose a bluesy rock song on one of the jukeboxes. You order drinks and Pilot follows you eagerly to a table, leaving his friend with the girl.

"So," you say, biting your lip in amusement, "why'd you ask me to accompany you guys anyways? And why are you leaving so soon?"

He chuckles lowly.

"Actually, Jack was caught screwing some guy's wife in Las Vegas. We're basically just on the run, cus' the husband was a raging psycho who sent some guys after Jack. Oh and I asked you cus' I find you hot. And funny."

You snicker, almost spitting out your drink.

"Talk about be bold."

"Yeah, Jack works as a pool cleaner, so he didn't really care about leaving his job."

"And you tagged along? That's wholesome. What do you do?"

He scoffs, seemingly lost for words, before chuckling again.

"I'm technically a drug dealer."

Your eyes go wide. Well, this sure is an eventful day.

"Oh."

He leans back into his chair, flinging an arm around the back of your chair. You can feel one of his fingers brush your back and it sends a chill down your spine. He's starts to draw lines and circles on your back with his finger.

"You don't think less of me, though, right?" he coughs, gazing at your soft features with his lazy eyes.

You turn your head to face him, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your demeanour is calm, but you're a little flushed.

"No. I mean, you guys are a bit too wild for me, but I don't think less of you, no.

He smirks, the hand on your back sliding up to the back of your neck, to gently guide your head closer to him.

You playfully poke his stomach and he pulls back, groaning in annoyance, as he rolls his head back. Then, without a thought, you climb up onto his lap, so that you are straddling him. His head shoots up eagerly, his hands almost just as quickly moving to your hips.

You cup his cheeks as your noses almost touch.

"You're an interesting guy, Pilot."

"You mean 'soda boy'?" he laughs, his hips involuntarily bucking up into yours.

You gasp slightly, widening your eyes at him.

"Okay, soda boy," you tease, "show some restraint. We're in public, remember."

He leans in close.

"Then let's go back to the motel," he grins.

Leaving the car with Jack, both of you rush out of the bar, walking with incredible speed to the grimy motel where the two troublemakers have been staying for the past two days.

You both stumble into the motel room, as you slam him into the door. His hands finds the hem of your skirt as he tugs as it. You giggle, throwing you bag onto the carpeted floor. You both almost tackle one another onto the floor, rolling around, unable to keep your hands to yourselves. He manages to pry open the rest of the buttons of your t-shirt, as his body presses flush against yours. As he is peppering your neck with hot kisses, he kicks your bag, and your unopened can of Fanta rolls out. Pilot turns around to look at it, with an amused smile, and with his head buried in your chest, he mumbles "I might have to help you finish that drink."

"I thought you didn't like citrus drinks," you manage to say, between passionate kisses.

"I wouldn't mind trying."

You tug at his messy hair and he groans, although not in annoyance this time.

This is by far the most interesting one-night stand you will ever have.

[the-scribbles-painter]

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[gyumibear]

⌞BLUE SPRING⌝ — 03: Bruised Fruit

SYNOPSIS — In which you, an upcoming idol, are saved from a dangerous encounter by Song Mingi, a jaded, third-year delinquent who falls for you in more ways than one. However, both of your responsibilities constantly tear you apart. Years later, you reunite. Are the sparks still there or was your love only meant for that one spring?

WARNINGS — Heavy swearing, Descriptions of Injuries, Mingi insults YN (not maliciously)

WC — 1.6k

Mingi couldn't believe his eyes... Well, eye. Given that Hongjoong had blackened the left one and left him looking like some kind of fucked up pirate. Regardless, Mingi couldn't believe what he was seeing. The same obnoxious, if he could even really call her that, pretty girl from the store was approaching him. She walked with caution and even though she had a hood on, he could tell from her demeanor alone she was apprehensive. He didn't move to stand up from the curb where he rested. He didn't even acknowledge when she sat down next to him. Is she crazy? He thought.

"I'm not crazy if that's what you're thinking." So she's a witch. "I noticed you sitting over here and you're injured. I'm deathly afraid that my life is a hidden camera show and I need you to tell me now if I can bandage your wounds or if you're going to tell me I just walked the prank." So she is crazy. "Please just tell me. My roommate is gonna start wondering where I am, but I don't want to leave someone if they need help. So, uh, chop chop."

Mingi turned his head to actively give you a blank stare. Who walks up to someone and starts talking like that? Especially at damn near two in the morning? He gave you another once over, noticing your obvious differences. Ah, a foreigner. Mingi chalked it up to be just what they do overseas. He decided to humor you. "I'm injured alright."

You let out a sigh, grateful that he didn't continue to stare at you like you'd grown another head. "Mind if I bandage you up? I have stuff on me..." When Mingi gave you a raised eyebrow, you continued to speak, "I'm a bit clumsy and I hate seeing other people in pain. That explains why I have the kit and why I'm bothering you. So?"

"Knock yourself out." Mingi gave you a curt response, closing his good eye.

With that, you immediately got to work, pulling out your first aid kit. "You look like you'll be fine, but I'm warning you that I'm about to disinfect your wounds."

"Didn't I tell you to knock yourself out? And besides, I'm already bruised fruit."

You scoffed, dabbing the antiseptic-covered cotton ball onto the cut on his nose. "Bruised fruit... Who are you Osamu Dazai...?" You murmured. Who the fuck is Osamu Dazai? Mingi thought before letting out a soft hiss at the antiseptic's contact, with you raising your eyebrow this time. "All good there?" He rolled his eyes and you continued, working away diligently and pressing bandages to the cuts you found.

When you got back to his face, only his nose cut was left. Unfortunately, all your plain bandages were gone, leaving only your cutely patterned ones that were a gift from NingNing for your birthday. You reached into the box to retrieve one when Mingi's gloved hand grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. Your eyes led you to Mingi's face, his eye trained on the bandages.

"You're not putting those on my face."

"Yeah, I am."

"No, you aren't."

"And why not?" You shook his hand off your wrist. "You were fine before."

"I already got beat up once this week. I don't want to get fucking laughed at too." While Mingi had wanted it to come out in a threatening tone, his voice revealed a hint of sadness at the end of his sentence. Good, now she probably thinks he's a fucking loser. If she didn't already. Surprising to him though, you didn't laugh or say you thought he was a loser.

Instead, you looked up at him earnestly and said "I'm sorry."

Mingi was taken aback. He had not expected you to say that. "What- Why are you sorry? You didn't have anything to do with this."

You then started to look a little guilty, which for some reason made Mingi feel like cheap dirt. You played with your hands absentmindedly while you formed the right words. Just when the silence had gotten stale you kept talking. "I mean, I kind of saw the beginning of what happened a few days ago. When those dudes were messing with you... I didn't see everything cause I had to get back to my dorm, but I noticed how...distraught... you looked. I'm sorry I didn't step in or anything."

Mingi gave you a blank stare once more, the gears turning in his head. You'd seen what happened? How scary Hongjoong had looked? And you thought you should've stepped in? Mingi didn't know whether to think you were super brave or super dumb. But, a small part of his cold demeanor was cracked knowing you cared that much. Wait, what am I saying? I barely know this girl. "Don't apologize. I had it handled."

Now was your turn to give him a blank stare. "Doesn't really look like you did..."

"Hey!" Mingi huffed, almost annoyed. "I did. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

"No offense, but my first thought when seeing you today was 'Did that guy get ran over by a bus' so..."

"Fuck you." Mingi rolled his eye, turning away from you. Now he was annoyed. He didn't know what to make of you. You seemed genuinely caring, but then again you also seemed like a genuine little shit. He had half a mind to just walk off, actually he was going to until you let out a soft chuckle.

"Sorry!" You snickered out, his eye back on your face. "You said that so quickly."

Mingi watched you struggle to hold your laughter with a deadpan expression. You were almost turning colors trying to maintain your composure that he was even a little worried about you. Then, you started coughing uncontrollably, and then you started choking. She's going to fucking die. He grumbled to himself before using his hand to lightly tap you on the back. When you seemed to have settled down, Mingi let out an exasperated, "Are you done?"

"Yeah..." You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. If you hadn't just almost gone on to glory he probably would've thought your actions were cute. But nope, Mingi was rendered to a state of second-hand embarrassment for you. "Um... Please pretend that didn't happen."

"No way in hell."

"Wha- Fuck you!"

"Now you're getting it," Mingi gave you a cocky smile. "Okay. Pack up all your stuff."

"Wait why?" You asked, but started putting away any unused medical supplies. "I still haven't bandaged your nose. Or your hands for that matter. Take your gloves off."

Mingi ignored your words, taking the bandaid scraps and throwing them into a nearby garbage can. He was not taking his gloves off. Fuck that. "It's late. I want to get home and I'm not leaving you out here alone, so let's go."

"Ah." You checked your phone, confirming he was right. Mingi sniffed as he waited for you to stand up. "My bus comes in a few minutes."

"Let's go then."

⚘

Mingi couldn't believe how stupid you were.

"I could've sworn it said ten minutes!"

"I could've sworn," Mingi mocked your voice, "Dumbass. That says ten hours."

You didn't even try to argue back, knowing that he was correct in calling you dumb. Your bus tracker did say the next time a bus could get you back to your dorm was 10 hours. Keeho was going to kill you... If Gahyeon didn't... Or if you didn't get FIRED.

You collapsed to your knees dramatically, surprising Mingi. He looked down at you in half-confusion, half-worry. "Are you... good?"

"I'm going to get fired." You hung your head, sighing slowly. "We all worked so hard and I've just ruined it. Everyone's going to be disappointed and I- Shit."

"Okay, relax." Mingi felt awkward, given he didn't know what you were talking about and other people's emotions made him feel weird. "We'll get you back, alright?"

"How?" You sniffed. "You don't have a car, do you?"

"No, but we both have two working legs. Get up." Mingi reached down, grabbing the back of your hoodie to pull you up to your feet. "I'll walk you back."

"Who just grabs someone like that?!" You huffed, dusting yourself off.

"Stop complaining." He started walking but stopped when he realized he didn't know where he was going. "Hey. Where do you live anyway?"

"At the HYBE dorms..."

"You're an idol?" Mingi struggled to hold back a laugh. "Wow."

"Is it really that surprising?" You rolled your eyes as he kept snickering.

"Nah, but I would've thought party clown."

"Fuck you!!" You started speedwalking in the general direction of your dorms, Mingi cutting off his laughter to catch up to you.

⚘

Mingi stood with his arms crossed, watching you hurriedly text 'your friend' to let you into the dorm. You both had been standing out there for a solid twenty minutes, probably waiting for said friend to wake up. It was damn near three forty in the morning, after all.

"She texted back!" You announced, whispering the words out. "She's on the way down."

Mingi just nodded back, not really having a response. To be honest, he was really just thinking about getting in the bed. His phone buzzed, reminding him he even had a phone in the first place. Reading the texts, his face paled significantly. When you finally turned around, you were shocked to see that he wasn't there anymore.

"Wha-" You looked around, trying to see where he'd gone. Nothing.

"YN!" Chaeryeong opened the door, whispering out your name. "Come on!"

You took one more worried glance over your shoulder before running inside. Where did he go?

← TO PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | TO NEXT →

NOTE — Saurry for the disappearance! Uni is not for the weak. 😭 Fun Fact: Mingi loves to tease people, especially if he likes them. Take that as you will... ;)

BLUE SPRING TAGLIST: OPEN! send a reply or ask to be added! if striked, you could not be tagged! — @ad0rechuu @run2seob @xynokia @hearttakesworld @scarfac3 @gvnwks @asherthehimbo @atinytinaa @urlacuna @saintriots @miriamxsworld @yungiprincess @ddextrr @rxnexxi @yyxy27 @mingis-mizu @lolos-hoes

© GYUMIBEAR. do not repost, modify, or translate my work onto other social media sites.

[casiia]

sports i think the sully's (+) would play!

supa dupa unedited!

jake sully: definitely a football man, he forces the entire family to watch the super bowl with him and screams SO loud when his team loses. i can imagine he wanted a son so they could play together, do the cliche 'teaching my son how to throw a football' thing. jake also host family football in his backyard when his friend's come over, he has tonowari as the other team captain and forces the kids to play, making them line up so the dads can make their team.

"lo'ak- no! you have to play"

neytiri: i don't know why but she definitely plays tennis, like in my head it just makes sense. y'know when in tennis matches all you can hear are the competitors grunting while they hit the ball super hard, that's her. neytiri is basically serena williams. she has a custom made racket and her outfits change for every game she plays, her visor is blue most of the time because tuk insist the sun will reflect off the color and she will be able to see the entire time (she heard the sky is blue because it reflects off of the ocean and she just ran with it).

"tuk, you're right! the blue kept the sun out of my eyes"

neteyam: jake most definitely tried to convince neteyam to play football, "it's fun i promise" "follow in my footsteps" let's just say the countless hours of them throwing a football outside bored neteyam to death. so instead, i feel like he would play hockey. it's kinda the same concept...right? like they are both very big contact sports, ramming each other into the walls of the skating rink to get to the puck, tripping your opponents with a hockey stick making them fall into the hard ice. i assume neteyam would use it as an out to release pent up anger and aggression he holds as the oldest son, it's definitely not healthy, but it's better than nothing AND he's good at what he does so it's a win win situation.

"what, in the penalty box again? i didn't push him, i tripped. not my fault he fell so hard."

lo'ak: LO'AK! i already know he plays basketball, he wears the nike techs and everything. very big lakers fan, like i want to say his whole room is a bright purple and yellow and every night before he goes to bed he blows a kiss to kobe. he's obnoxious and knows he's better than most people, so he'll just take the ball every chance he gets and shoots. it's always great but if he does it in a close game and he misses, he will prob be benched for the rest of the quarter. he begs neytiri and jake to get neon bright basketball shoes that are super expensive because 'the brigther the shoe the better the athlete' and after years of begging, he finally gets the bright orange (ugly) shoes he's been wanting. if he sees tsireya in the crowd he points at her and says "this one's for you", completely airballs and gets yelled at by his coach..

"i'm not cocky, i just know i'm good"

kiri: uhm. kiri doesn't play a sport, she's very much the musician of the family. but if i really had to chose i think she would be good at,, ice skating?! or dance in general, again i have no idea. but let's say ice skating, she carpools with neteyam because they go to the same ice rink and the entire time it's just gossip. she's very stubborn and has to perfect the trick she does before moving onto the next one. i'm guessing that she experiences a big mental block, like she can't do spins or jumps anymore because she's afraid to fall on the ice and hurt herself; that's why she quit. she does miss the beauty of the sport but finds herself in tune with music.

"you know what elsa said, the cold never bothered me anyway"

tuk: SHE IS A GYMNAST! she's one of those annoying little girls who do cartwheels everywhere to show off. her leotards are all glittery and multicolored, she has to look her best for the judges. neytiri and jake absolutely eat it up, they make the entire family watch her beam routine once she successfully does it without falling off. when jake takes her to skyzone to practice her flips, he ends up getting stuck in the foam pit and has to have workers help pull him out. then he lost tuk. but aside from that, tuk is very hardworking and committed, she wants to be an olympian and if she's good at 8, imagine how good she will be when she's older. neytiri loves the time that they spend picking her outfits out or when she has to squeeze her little girl's hair into a bun. the memories they make in those 5 minutes keep tuk motivated, she no longer cries when she falls, she laughs that she did and gets up to do it again.

"MOM! TOO TIGHT MY HAIR IS GONNA RIP OUT MY HEAD!"

tonowari: hmm. i think waterpolo! saying this because he's metkayina but also one beefy man. he moves well in the water and is the fastest on his team, sososo very humble though. if someone scratches him or pulls him under water, he will try to drown the guy. ( sorry it's this short i know nothing about waterpolo)

"i didn't even do that, pshh you can't see anything it was underwater"

ronal: swimming?? i think maybe swim team or synchronized swimming. yes yes synchro swimming! she likes dancing of course but dancing underwater it just so much more peaceful to her. she is super close to her team and gets to pick out the music for each choreograph much to everyone's dismay.

"this is not old people music! it's good for the soul"

ao'nung: baseball player. 2 million percent a baseball player. he's a pitcher and always teases the person batting before throwing a curveball. if he gets caught he gets scolded but never benches because he's too good and they need him (gag). very very cocky boy, will never admit he's done something wrong and that causes the whole team to run. i can also see him annoyingly eating sunflower seeds and spitting the shell out between every word, no manners smh.

"huh- pft- no- pft- i- pft- didn't- pft- say- pft-" "AO'NUNG!"

tsireya: sweet baby is a cheerleader. she's a flyer and puts her entire trust in her spotters, they will never ever drop her. she loves to do very bold cheer makeup and color coordinates her outfits, her smile soso big as she waves to the bleachers with a pompom in hand. there are mean cheerleaders and she's always one of the girls to scold them "we are a team, weather you like it or not." she's at the top of the pyramid in everyone's hearts.

"yes i can do makeup on you tuk, is it scary being thrown? of course not, they will always catch me"

[theteasetwrites]

The Other Brother

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 3 (The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning series) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, Merle being slightly annoying/sexist (are we surprised really) ❧ Word Count: 5.1k

❧ Summary: Merle has just made a home for himself in the prison, and though you aren't happy about it, you're trying to keep cool. When a conversation breaks out between you and Merle, you realize the one thing you have in common—you both love Daryl.

❧ A/N: This is another oneshot from my series, The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning (and yes I do regret naming it that because the title is so long lol). I wanted to capture a scene we didn't see in the series, which is another conversation between the reader and Merle (see Chapter 20 for a refresher on the last conversation they had... it didn't go well). I didn't want to make Merle redeemable in this scene, but I did want to have him have another talk with reader because their dynamic is interesting to me. I also wanted to get some more Daryl backstory (that's always fun) and to see that from Merle's perspective. I do think Merle cares about Daryl deep down, he's just a shitty brother (and person). Also cute Daryl and reader moments, of course.

Morning light poured through the tall, paned windows of the cafeteria. It was still early, but you were up, about to start your watch in the guard tower. With tensions rising between your people and the Governor, it was becoming all the more necessary to keep alert. Even Rick, Michonne, and Carl had embarked on a mission just a few hours ago, in the hopes of bringing back a cache of weapons.

You’d hoped that Andrea’s efforts to make peace last night weren’t in vain. For your part, you would try to help any way you could, but there was no way of reconciling the truth���Merle had captured Glenn and Maggie, and Rick, Daryl, Michonne, and Oscar had killed several of the Governor’s people in order to get them back. There wasn’t going to be any peace made from that. 

But that wasn’t of any consequence for the moment. There were other things to worry about, too.

First there was the matter of checking on little Judith, who had just begun to stir awake in her makeshift crib (just a box with blankets and towels for cushioning, and Beth’s handwriting scrawled “Lil’ Asskicker” on the side). 

You couldn’t help but peer into the box to look at her, and, thinking you were completely alone, you set down your axe and your pack to transition into your baby voice. 

“Well, hello there,” you cooed to the newborn. She was only about a week or so old now, but she’d already been through so much. The baby’s hazel colored eyes opened sleepily, her pink lips opening in curiosity as she studied your face, albeit with not much going on inside that little head. 

You curled your fingers gently but firmly around her sides to lift her into your arms. Her legs wrapped around your side as you bounced her softly. “You’re just a little angel, aren’t you? Yes, you are. Judith. J-U-D-I-T-H. That’s your name. My name is (Y/N).”

You continued to spell out your name, laughing at the final letter when Judith drooled a little, with spit dripping down her chin as she, too, laughed. 

“Oh, great,” you said. “Silly goose. Here, let me wipe your chin.”

You turned to the kitchen sink where a roll of paper towels was propped on the side. After sitting yourself down at the table, holding Judith as you wiped her chin, you felt a pair of cold, beady blue eyes boring into your back. 

Merle was standing in the middle of the stairs leading up the window perch, one leg obnoxiously propped on the railing, and his amputated arm sporting the homemade blade attachment that you found quite unsettling. 

He stepped down slower now, mustering a small smile. As best as you could, you ignored him, not bothering to look his way, though you recognized the feeling of that stare anywhere—it wasn’t unlike Daryl’s in its intensity, though his always felt much more affectionate.

You hadn’t said a word to him since yesterday afternoon, when he’d made a point to say that his brother could never love you. As much as you tried not to let it get to you, you couldn’t forget those words. They seared and stung and oozed. 

Merle had touched on an insecurity deep within you, one that had never truly gone away. You feared he was right—Daryl couldn’t love you. 

There was no rationalization to it, but rational thought didn’t exist in that part of your mind. Daryl loved you. He wouldn’t have come back to the prison the other day if he didn’t. But if he did, maybe he wouldn’t have left in the first place.

You just couldn’t grapple with Merle. He frightened you, even disturbed you. He represented everything that Daryl had left behind, every bad thing he’d experienced in his life before you. If you could put all of Daryl’s trauma and anger and sadness into one person, that person would be Merle.

You only hoped he’d leave you alone, since the last time you talked to him in this room, you nearly splashed boiling water at his face.

“Early bird gets the worm,” he said. How could Daryl’s brother have such a grating, annoying voice, while Daryl had the softest, sweetest, albeit a little gravelly, voice you could imagine? “You tryin’ to catch any worms today, sweetheart?”

Give me strength. 

You shook your head, still looking down at baby Judith as you cleaned her. 

You heard Merle’s steps come closer as he trudged down the stairs, until finally setting himself down at the same table. His face was directly across from you now, so you had no choice but to see him.

You held Judith closer to your chest, as if instinctively keeping her as far away from Merle as possible. After all, he did have a very sharp, long blade jutting out of his arm. 

“Do you need something?” you asked curtly. 

He raised an eyebrow, and perhaps you should’ve known better than to say that, since he looked like he was about to reply with something rather crass.

“You could tell me where my baby brother is,” he said. 

That was a bit of a relief. “He’s in bed,” you said. “Sleeping in.”

Merle knew his brother, and that wasn’t something Daryl had ever cared to do before. Well, maybe he didn’t know his brother as well as he thought.

“Sleeping in?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow as a wry smirk curled onto his face. “You wear him out, girl?” There it is. “Too much hanky panky? Ya know, my brother ain’t no spring chicken. How old are you, anyway?”

He looked you up and down, as if trying to figure it out on his own.

“Twenty-six,” you replied, trying to avoid eye contact as you prepared Judith’s baby formula on the table. 

He let out a whistle, much to your annoyance. “Well, shit.”

You rolled your eyes as you replaced the lid of Judith’s bottle, now filled with liquid formula. “I’m a grown woman,” you assured him. 

“Ain’t no disputin’ that,” he agreed. “Just still a little… shocked, s’all.”

It took every fiber of your being not to engage, but there was always that part of you that just couldn’t let people like Merle walk all over you. It took you a long time to figure out how to stand up for yourself, and though sometimes it was still a struggle, people like Merle reminded you of why you couldn’t be quiet anymore. 

So to change the subject, at the very least, you asked him a question, one that had been on your mind since you learned that Merle was alive. 

“What do you want?” you asked. 

“What d’ya mean, Bambi?”

“I mean… why are you here? Just to mess with Daryl’s head?”

Perhaps you were going too far again. You had already developed mild regrets about telling Merle off yesterday, though it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. After all, he offended you, and you’d held your tongue for long enough. Still, a part of you wanted to get along with Merle as much as you could, though you knew there would never be anything better than vague ambivalence towards each other. 

“Funny,” he scoffed. “I was gonna ask you the same question.”

Asshole. 

“You think I’m messing with Daryl’s head?” 

“That’s what women do,” Merle replied simply. “Complicate things. A real sweet, pretty one like you can make a man weak, turn him into jelly. Evil. No wonder the Garden of Eden fell. That damn woman.” His voice turned into a sharp hiss as he spoke, his facial features tightening as he continued. There was vitriol there, like he was spitting acid at you. “Daryl’s always been… sensitive.” He spoke the word like it burned his tongue as it slipped out. “Shoulda known a woman like you would come along and sweet talk your way into his heart. Ya know, since I got here, I wonder if my brother is even the same guy from last time I saw him.”

You couldn’t count how many times you rolled your eyes during his little rant about women. You’d heard it all before in one way or another, how women are so “complex” and have some kind of nefarious plan to get men to do their bidding. All rooted in misogyny, of course. You always found it rather funny how men could say such things about the wickedness of women, and yet sexualize them in the same breath. 

“He’s the same man,” you said. “He just changed. This world changes people, some for the better.” You propped the baby’s head up a little higher in the crook of your arm to begin feeding her from the bottle. “Daryl stepped up. Sophia, Carol’s little girl, she got lost in the woods, and Daryl led the search. He almost got himself killed trying to find her. And on the road, he hunted for everyone, protected everyone.” Judith caught your attention when she coughed a little, having drunk her formula too fast. You patted her back softly until she stopped. “Daryl loves this baby, too. He calls her Little Ass-Kicker. He’s so good with her.”

Merle’s eyes narrowed at you, investigating you. Some woman he’d once thought to be insignificant and not long for this world was suddenly more knowledgeable of his brother than he was. In fact, he was starting to wonder if you knew more about him than he ever did. 

“Well, shit,” he said. “Looks like little Daryl’s made himself into a regular Prince Charming. Seems like just yesterday he was gettin’ wasted off moonshine and pissin’ himself in the drunk tank. Had to bail his drunk ass out with my drug money. Little shit.”

You blinked in confusion. That didn’t sound like your Daryl, but he always said he got into trouble when he was younger. “When was that?” you asked, curious to hear any stories Daryl hadn’t told you.

Merle smiled at your intrigue. “Kid was about… seventeen.”

You shifted your shoulders as you adjusted Judith in your arms, then stood again to gently put her back in her crib. “If I engage in conversation with you,” you started to say, “do you promise not to be an asshole?”

“Depends what ya mean by ‘asshole.’”

“I mean… don’t say offensive things.”

“Depends what you mean by ‘offensive.’”

You sighed and shook your head as you sat back down. Ignoring his last comment, you asked, “What was Daryl like growing up?”

Merle’s eyes widened at that, and he broke out into a boisterous chuckle. “What was Daryl like?” You nodded. “Oh, man… Well, sweetheart, Daryl was somethin’ else.”

“What does that mean?”

Merle’s laugh subsided, and he could tell by the curiosity on your face that you were serious. You wanted to know about Daryl’s life from Merle’s perspective. After all, he was the only family from the world before Daryl had left, and as much as you hated to admit it, you still occasionally clung to that world. You found yourself wishing you’d met Daryl before all this, though ultimately, you were happy to have met him at all. In any case, the past fascinated you, and your curiosity was always a force to be reckoned with.

In a matter of moments, Merle began to straighten as he cleared his throat, preparing himself to dust off the old memories that had lain dormant in the derelict attic of his mind. 

“See, Daryl’s ten years younger than me. Hell, I remember the day he was born… He was a mistake. My mom, she wanted to, ya know, get rid of him ‘fore he was born, but that kinda thing wasn’t looked upon kindly. Matter of fact, she was hopin’ for a girl. She was so sure it was gonna be a girl. Then Daryl popped out. Imagine how surprised she was. ‘That ain’t no damn girl,’ she said.”

You smiled at the way Merle told the story. Imagining baby Daryl was quite amusing, too. You were sure he was adorable.

“When I held him for the first time, he squirmed and cried… He was so little.” Merle’s eyes trailed to baby Judith in her crib, who was nodding off to the sound of Merle’s voice, much softer than usual. In a way, it reminded you of Daryl’s, and once again you were reminded that they were brothers. “I think it was that same year, this Hall & Oates song came out. I dunno, but Mom named him Daryl, ‘cause she liked it so much.”

Your eyes widened, as did your smile. “Daryl Hall? He’s named after Daryl Hall?”

“Mhm… And my dad liked Merle Haggard.”

You laughed as you stored that information, fully intending to tease Daryl later on. 

“First thing I knew about Daryl was that he was a baby. Mom babied him, made him all soft. Daryl could do no wrong… She loved him. Dad didn’t love no one. Cold son of a bitch. Barely looked ya in the eye ‘less it was to smack ya. Started drinkin’ a lot more when Mom died. Daryl was about… five, I was fifteen, off stealin’ whiskey and cigarettes.”

He paused for a moment, shifting in his seat uncomfortably as his face muscles began to tighten. A palpable shift in his demeanor began to manifest itself, and he averted his eyes from you.

“Daryl was a good kid,” he said. “He got into trouble, but he didn’t know nothin’ else. He was a lot younger when Dad started hurtin’ him. I mean, I was gone. I was always gone. Barely knew. It was easier for me to leave, to avoid it. He hurt me, but I was older. I could jus’ leave… Daryl jus’ dealt with it for a while. A long time…”

You knew what Daryl’s father had done to him, how he slashed the skin on his back with a switch from a birch tree. It was hard not to know about it. Daryl’s back was evidence, etched with thick, raised scar tissue. On the rare occasions Daryl talked about it, he would pass it off as if it were nothing, despite your attempts to comfort him in the wake of these traumatic memories. Sometimes you felt that he was too reluctant to let himself feel the weight of his emotions, but you couldn’t say that to him. He needed to come to terms with his past in his own time, his own way. 

“He beat me too,” he continued, “but Daryl got it worse. I know that now. Kinda funny, I left ‘fore things got real bad, and yet Daryl turned out better than me. How the hell does that happen?”

You shrugged. “Well, Daryl has a good head on his shoulders.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Knows a good thing when he sees it.”

You looked at him curiously, innocently. “Hm?”

“Talkin’ ‘bout you, Bambi.”

“Oh.”

Me? If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as though Merle was… complimenting you. Not in a crass sexual way, or with a sarcastic remark—it was genuine. You could tell. 

“Mhm… You’re good for him.”

You were taken aback, bewildered. Wasn’t this the very same man who accused you of being nothing but a “passing fancy” and “a hole for Daryl to put his dick in” not twenty-four hours ago? Surely you were speaking to a different man. 

“Where is that coming from?” you asked, genuinely confused. “I thought you hated me.”

Merle chewed his bottom lip in thought. Another little habit similar to Daryl’s. It was quite surreal. “I don’t know my brother half as well as you do,” he began, “but I knew him ‘fore all this… ‘Fore the world went to shit. He was lost for a real long time, followed me around not knowin’ what else to do. Yesterday, you said he didn’t think for himself, that he was like a puppet. Maybe you’re right. Maybe… maybe that’s what I did to him.”

You lowered your head, slightly ashamed of your words, though you meant every bit of them. From what Daryl had told you, you had always gleaned that Merle manipulated him, taking advantage of Daryl’s sensitivity and leading him down paths that weren’t good for him. You might not have known Daryl for as long as Merle, but you knew that Daryl was much more emotionally fragile than he seemed at the outset, and that people like Merle could easily take advantage of him. Of course, Daryl wasn’t completely innocent in his actions, but you always felt that he was much more himself these days, without the influence of his brother. You only hoped that Merle being here wouldn’t deter his progress.

“But you,” he continued, “you brought somethin’ outta him.”

You shook your head in denial. “No, it was all of us. This group, we’re family. We all changed each other. But Daryl… he’s always been good. I believe that. When he saved me from that walker in the woods, that day I took you both to our camp, I knew he was good. It wasn’t me, he just needed the opportunity to be good.” He needed to get away from you, was what you really wanted to say, but perhaps that would be a little too harsh for the moment. 

He chuckled under his breath, amused by the thought of his kid brother being so good. “You really love my brother, don’t you, girl?”

Your cheeks became flushed with red, despite your confidence in that answer. You loved him so much it scared you. You loved his heart, his mind, his body, his soul… Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe him. The short time you’d been together in this world felt like centuries, though time moved faster these days—a year was like a decade. That year you spent with him was fraught with fear and blood and death and every other unholy thing you could think of, but all that paled in comparison to the deep, profound love you had for him. It kept you going on particularly dark days, and held your hand when the light seemed so far away that you couldn’t see in front of you. 

His love was the last beautiful relic of a time when love was all too often taken for granted. His love was unending and unwavering, even when death loomed at every corner and threatened to rid the world of every last ounce of happiness. His love was sweet, pure, sincere, almost unfathomable in its depth. 

When your love met with his, it was the closest thing you could get to a dream in this terrible nightmare of a world. So yes, you did love him. Very, very much.

“Yes,” you said clearly, not wanting to be mistaken. “I love Daryl very much.”

He was silent for a while, as if processing the information. He knew you loved him, though, just as much as he knew Daryl loved you. What disturbed him was a newfound kind of protectiveness for his little brother, which he hadn’t felt so much since the little boy was born. 

“Would ya hurt him?” he finally asked, eyes boring deep into yours. “Would ya break his heart?”

The man continued to bewilder you, and for a few moments, you had no idea what to say, though you knew exactly what the answer was.

“No,” you said. “No, never. I’d never hurt him.”

Merle nodded solemnly, though with a vague sense of trust. “He’s been hurt a lot. By my dad, by me… See the way he looks at ya, Bambi. Nothin’s ever made him this happy. Tell ya the truth, I don’t think he’s ever been happy. Not till you. Saw it at the quarry, too. You had him in the palm of your little hand since the moment he saw ya, I knew it. Jus’ didn’t think you’d last long enough for him to realize it.”

You thought for a moment, still trying to fully process Merle’s words. “Well,” you finally said, “Daryl means everything to me. Breaking his heart would break mine.”

“So we got ourselves an understanding then?”

“Understanding?”

“Yeah. You hurt my little brother, you answer to me.” 

Your slight fear of Merle kicked in, sending a brief shiver up your spine. Though you wondered if Merle really cared about Daryl, you couldn’t help but take his warning seriously. 

“I still don’t like you, Merle,” you said abruptly, trying to regain your confidence. “If you’re going to live here, and hang around Daryl, I have a few ground rules, too.”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his hand and his blade hand behind his head. “Lay ‘em on me, sugar tits.”

You scoffed, glowering at him. “First of all, don’t call me that. And you need to stop sexualizing everything. It makes me and Daryl very uncomfortable.”

“Damn, you’re no fun at all.”

“Just be respectful,” you said. “Boundaries.”

Merle shook his head, and you could tell he hardly knew the meaning of that word. “You done usin’ those big college words now? Think I liked you better when you didn’t talk so much.”

Your lip tightened as you pulled a mean glare, rising from your seat to return your axe to its place on the loop of your belt. You then picked up Judith, planning on taking her to Beth before your watch shift started. “Get used to it.”

It was an uneventful shift, with no signs of the Governor or his army on the horizon, giving you time to think about the new situation. Merle wasn’t going anywhere for the time being, and you had to accept that. Everyone did. No one liked him, and you were sure even Daryl didn’t particularly like him, but that was Daryl’s brother, and the only part of his family he had left. You found it hard to understand Daryl’s devotion to him, considering Merle had abandoned him as a child, but you didn’t need to understand—the point was that Daryl wanted him here, and you loved Daryl.

Relationships sometimes require sacrifice, you knew that. Perhaps this was the first sacrifice you’d have to make for Daryl, and though it came with being irritated by Merle’s bigoted presence, you told yourself that from now on, you would pick your battles wisely, only fighting with Merle when you deemed it necessary. Perhaps Daryl himself would soon grow tired of Merle, but until that time, you’d stick it out for him. Only for him.

You hadn’t even seen Daryl yet that day, except for a few times from a distance as you stood in the guard tower. In a running joke, you raised your binoculars to spy on him, watching him help Glenn with the reinforcements to ensure the prison was strong against any threat, namely the Governor. 

When he felt your eyes on him, he raised his hand to his forehead, blocking the sunlight from his sensitive blue eyes. “Get back to work, woman!” he yelled up at you from the ground. 

“You first!” you called back, still watching him through your binoculars. “That barricade isn’t going to make itself, Dixon!”

He scoffed and shook his head, though his slight smirk betrayed his amusement at your teasing. Fully intending on getting you back in some way, he paused to remove his jacket and vest, revealing his bare arms. With narrowed eyes, you adjusted your binoculars to more clearly display his toned muscles, gleaming with sweat in the afternoon sunlight. As he lifted the large wooden pallet, you studied the flexed tendons and bulging muscles all along his tan, impossibly large arms. 

When he finished moving it to block the entrance to D Block, he dusted off his gloved hands and shook the dark caramel bangs from his face, looking back up at you with a subtle, teasing wink, and a slight purse of his lips as he sent you a little kiss. Maybe you were still a little mad with him for going off with Merle, but how could you really be mad at him? 

“Baby,” you quietly giggled to yourself, dangling your legs playfully over the edge of the guard tower. “Mm… You’re such a tease, baby.” 

Your shift ended shortly thereafter, and when Maggie relieved you of your post, you helped Beth take care of the baby, teaching her how to properly get the little one to sleep. After helping Carol with dinner, you retreated to a small patch of wild blue violets, where you sat cross-legged against the wall of the prison, watching the begin to set.

Spring afternoons were pleasant in Georgia. The air was still cool from winter, but not unbearable, not at all. Overgrown violets and weeds surrounded you, and the dead were far off somewhere else, behind that chain-link fence upon which you relied so heavily. The Governor had torn down the furthest fence, but the one closest to the prison still remained, and though the future remained uncertain, you felt yourself let go for a moment, leaning your head back against the brick wall and letting out a deep sigh. 

The silent moment was broken by the snap of a twig, sending your eyes wide open as your gaze whipped towards the sound. Daryl stood peering around the corner, his hand curled around the edge of the brick wall. His lip quirked upwards in a slight smile, which you returned. 

“Hi,” you said quietly. 

“Hi…” He looked towards the setting sun for a moment, then slowly made his way to you, careful not to trample over the delicate purple flowers. “Ain’t ya gonna have dinner?” He slid down the wall to sit beside you, tucking his knees to his chest. 

“Later,” you replied. “You know I like watching the sunset.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And I like watchin’ you watch it.” You laughed under your breath and bumped his shoulder with yours. “S’true. Beautiful…” 

“Me?”

“Mhm. You.”

“Aren’t you a charmer?”

“I try to be.”

“Hm, well, that’s more than I can say for your brother…” You trailed off, palming your forehead when you realized what you’d said. “God, sorry. I, um… I talked to him today.”

He nodded solemnly, though with affirmative confidence. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Told me so, while you were in the tower. Told me a lot of things.”

“Great,” you sighed. “What did he tell you?”

“Told me that ya love me,” he said. “But I already knew that.”

You smiled with rosy cheeks, a little embarrassed that Daryl now knew you told Merle you loved him. After all, Daryl was quite private with that kind of thing, and you knew he liked to maintain a certain image, especially with his brother, who would have no qualms with calling him “Darylina” if the occasion called for it. 

“Did he tell you anything else?”

He scoffed as he recalled Merle’s words. “Said I oughtta take real good care of you, ‘cause you’re special.”

“He did not,” you laughed. “You’re so making that up.” 

“I’m not,” he replied. “Well, he also said you got a big mouth.”

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “Asshole.”

“Yeah… but I think he’s startin’ to like you,” he said. “I know you don’t like him, and I don’t expect ya to, but what matters to me is that he likes you.”

You furrowed your brow and smiled in your amused curiosity. “Why does that matter?”

He shrugged, and of course he had a very practical reason for wanting Merle to like you. “‘Cause I need to know he’ll keep ya safe if somethin’ happens to me.”

Your face softened into a quivering pout, yet your eyes smiled at his sweet words. “Oh, baby,” you laughed, scooting closer to grab his hand and place it in your lap. “That’s sweet… But nothing’s going to happen to you. I won’t let it.”

He tilted his head while reaching out to hold your cheek in the rough palm of his worn hand. You leaned into his touch almost immediately, closing your eyes as you rubbed your cheek against him. His body was always so warm, every single part of it. When he held your cheek, you always felt particularly adored, like that was the greatest kind of physical affection a human being was capable of showing. Of course, you had known much greater, more intimate pleasures with him, but that gentle caress of your cheek was something else entirely. 

“But if somethin’ does happen,” he said, “I told Merle that he better take care of you, make sure nothin’ happens to you. S’all I really need from him, just to know you’d be all right.”

“And what did he say when you told him that?”

Daryl shook his head. “You really wanna know?”

“Mhm.”

“He said he’d be sure to take real good care of you…” Daryl repeated the sentence much in the same way Merle would, so you knew exactly what he meant.

“Oh,” you frowned, shaking your head. “He’s such a pervert. How are you even related to a guy like that?”

Daryl’s other hand came around you, gripping your shoulder and pulling you closer until his lips could connect to the space where your neck and your shoulders meet. When his tongue lapped at your skin, his lips suctioning sloppily in between licks, you let out a boisterous laugh. “Daryl! Mm… You’re a pervert, too…”

Your hand came up to lace through his hair, massaging his scalp as his mouth pampered you, inching up your neck until his outstretched tongue slid along your jawline, tickling you with his stubble. 

He pulled away slowly, then nuzzled his nose against your heated cheek. You felt his breath near your lips, and all you wanted was to feel his mouth on yours, for as long as possible. Forever, ideally. 

“Also told him to cool it. He says shit like that to you, you tell me. I’ll kick his ass,” he said. “I aint tryin’ to make excuses for him, but Merle… he only really knows how to talk to prostitutes.”

“Oh, that makes me feel better,” you laughed. “Are you saying I’m a prostitute, Daryl?”

“Nah,” he replied, shaking his head, and by extension rubbing his nose side-to-side against your cheek, making you giggle. “You’re just a beautiful woman, and Merle ain’t ever seen a woman like you.”

You rolled your eyes and snorted at the assumption that you were anything special, but you knew Daryl thought you were special, and apparently Merle did, too. “Well, he better get used to me,” you said, turning to match your lips up to his. “Because I’m going to be around for a long time.”

~

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[ditch-lily]

so I wanna do a little trip/photo dump of my latest jeffy adventure. I may delete this who knows but for now, adventures below!

I tbh wasn't at my best during this trip, I had a bit of a not fun ocd episode while traveling and I do feel like I spent most of the trip trying to get back to my baseline okayness - so to my lovely friends and travel partners thanks for being awesome and treating me with kindness!! I really, really appreciated it 💖💖

okay now time for obnoxious trip slideshow haha

chiang rai was beautiful. we went to an insanely gorgeous garden cafe on the first day

on the second, we went to the white and blue temples

btw I love doing street photography so 2 of my favs from chiang rai:

and now...jeffy day

tbh by the time Jeff was onstage I'd been standing around since 2pm (he got on stage...at 10pm 😭) the things We Do for Barricade. I was soooo sweaty and frazzled by then

it was a very cool set up tho! it was a little music festival, lots of food/etc, and they lit up hot air balloons over our heads

we saw a few performers and slot machine!! who were right before jeff. finally got to see them live and ohmygod did they pop off!! at one point they were in front of us just tearing up the stage for ages, they threw guitar picks at us haha (I did not catch one lol)

and then jeff.....look we all know how that went down

but here's a screenshot of when he Looked at me the first time and i fucking realized if I can see them.....they can see me. no??? jfc i think i like super reacted, flailed backwards a bit I think. i prefer to not beobserved okay?? but anyway and that's why he came for my throat later i believe. demon

then look after jeff it was just jumpscare after jumpscare, bumping into his band member at midnight in our hotel lobby (all the musicians and sound crew were having a big drinking party on the steps of the hotel. jeff wasn't there tho) and then the next morning bumping into rasika checking out etc etc

okay some of my fits on the trip! day 1, then jeffy day and the next travel day, which ended up being the Day we followed Jeff and his team around at the airport, unintentionally

each of these in front of the cupboard nowhere near as good as jeffs lol

some of the treasures i got at the show! these are mainly bread's amazing creations. @patpran thank you so much i adore my jeffy cat stickers ;.;

also (made by another fan) the jeffy pop socket i'm screaming,,,,,should i put it on my phone..

okay now bkk!! i got a few street shots cause i love doing that

then witnessed jeff on the bts and found some cat pants

and went plus size shopping at platinum mall. i knew about the names before hand but oh my god im laughing

and then!!! bang sue junction, which is mile and apo's fav hang out spot for vintage shopping. sadly we didn't bump into them. but it was such an awesome place to explore

we also wrote a lil letter each and wrapped up some presents to send to jeff. i would like to say it takes 2+ ppl to puzzle out a thailand post box and how to put it together (and there was only 2 of us at that point lol ;.;)

okay i was gonna add more but that's heaps, i think. despite my brain being frazzled 24/7 on this trip it was a good one. thank you so much to @patpran who showed me all the cool places and was a very lovely travel partner!!! you were awesome!!!

i'm honestly so grateful i got to go, and have these experiences ahhhhh, i'm gonna treasure it (sorry post trip emo-ness) anyway i gotta get back to work now but, if you've read this far, you're a star haha <3