#(of course it's about connecting two interest one being oc shit and the other being music stuff)

[lionacuty]

aggie/magma doodles from today =w= kitties and humans and robots :3

[todosdream]

stress relief | ony

15k wrds. strangers to friends? to lovers. slow burn. plot with smut. fem black oc. see the moodboard.

warnings: MNDI! lots of profanity, usage of n word, pet names, mentions of weed; smut: unprotected sex (PLS BE SAFE), edging, a spank or two, naaasty talk, degradation? more like brat-taming, dacryphilia for two seconds, ony rightfully has a bbc, begging, ony’s a talker (duh), choking? really just a hand necklace, pussydrunk ony, lowkey d/s but not explicitly mentioned

additional #: oc needs to get laid fr. kt needs her headphones. becca needs a new job. author doesn’t box. shout out mrs. etta. ony is chalanting with a girl for the first time. (and he’s vibing with it.) oc really needs to get laid. oc is a bit bratty… sorry. ony needs to get off his ass. oc is actually very bratty, damn. oh hell, oc gets laid!

“girl, I’ma be real with you… you need some dick,” crystal’s best friend tells her through her screen. kt’s giving a look, an interesting mix of pity and annoyance. her knotless braids are framing her face, mocha skin radiant as always but lashes looking quite barren. “yeah, and you need a lash refill, ho,” crystal snorts. since she’s bringing up needs and shit. it’s unfortunately been a while since they’ve hung out, kt now visiting family in colorado for about a week.

being the type of friends they are, the both of them have no issue communicating through tiktoks and sending pictures of silly things. just yesterday kt sent a picture of herself holding up a peace sign with a joint between her lips. she stood next to a 'no smoking' sign, the ‘no’ smudged. she thought she was just so clever. crys in return sent a saved picture of an unimpressed squidward, a typical exchange between the two goofballs.

“yeah, okay, ho. I’m just saying. maybe you’d be a little nicer to me if you got some,” she rolls her eyes, giving yzma. her rescheduled lash appointment can’t come quick enough. “says the girl getting some every day and still being mean to me,” crys scoffs.

kt’s living with her boyfriend, expecting his title to change to fiance after feeling a certain anticipatory energy from the man. her time consists of working and chatting with friends, and being with and posting videos with her partner. crys, however, explores her free time in many ways. picking up hobbies that have about a 50% chance of sticking, trying different restaurants, teaching her dog funny tricks, and the occasional friend hangout. it’s friday night and she’s doing her own nails just for the hell of it. although the uninhibited girl’s words trigger an automatic negative response, crys knows why she’s speaking them. when the phone call ends, kt will turn over and cuddle up to her man, maybe ‘get her shit rocked’ as she likes to so delicately put it. crys, however, will be left with her dog, her empty home and bed, and whichever toy she vibes with for the night.

she likes being alone, it’s an accomplishment for her to feel confident and comfortable being single after wasting her time with people that don’t care, men that don’t even actually like her. but when it’s all said and done, people are meant for connection. of course platonic, family, community… but that pull? that yearning? it can’t be replicated, no matter how many times she rewatches bridgerton or insecure.

it’s been a while since she just let go with anyone other than those already close to her. the last time she let someone new in, he showed her exactly why ‘niggas ain’t shit’ is such a popular phrase. it was a situation that didn’t make any sense, and in retrospect, she cringes. the embarrassment, the useless attempts at communication, the settling… never again. however, that’s a part of her life that’s being fully neglected. no dates, no late night rendezvous, no flirting, no sex.

one word: cobwebs.

“why are you more worried about my coochie than I am, anyway?” crys jokes as she fixes her gel polish, deflecting the conversation. it’s not something she wants to discuss or harp on. that’s just life for her right now. she’s tired of people wasting her time, so she became unavailable. simple. plus, she knows kt’s nosy ass man is lying next to her and listening because that girl never wears her damn airpods. “you think that’s an insult? girl. that only makes you look bad, not me,” she sasses. crys hears a soft snicker in the background. “oh, fuck you,” the girl mumbles in response. “and will you please put headphones on the next time you decide to go talkin’ bout my coochie? cause I’ll happily tell all those stories about yours, pimp.”

“stories?” crys hears in the background of the call. “ain’t no way she just called you that. what the hell that mean, crystal?” the bestie purses her lips and squints at crys. she watches as the brown skinned girl tilts her head, making her curls flop to the side with a ‘gotcha’ look. “I know where you live, you know that, fo’head? have a good night with your vibrator, ho,” she speaks lowly. shuffles are heard as she drops the phone onto the duvet next to her. “she don’t mean that, pookie, she’s just all pent up.” kt’s middle finger is all that’s visible on the screen before the phone echos a tone a few times, indicating the end of the call. crys snorts in response and sits her phone to the side. she sighs, looking over her nails for any imperfections as her mind echoes her words.

she wouldn’t be opposed to a night in the sheets. it’d be nice to dust off the cobwebs. get some head, maybe get her shit rocked like she hasn’t had in a while. part of her wants the slow and sensual, romantic sex with someone special. the kind of sex that touches her soul, that you can feel on every level. the other part… well. that part stays right in the cage where it belongs. that part likes to drown in frisky pleasure even if the one giving it is a life source draining leech.

it’s normal to want pleasure, it’s human. but the thought of all the bullshit that comes with dealing with another human, let alone a man in this day and age is enough to make her reconsider taking that step. so like usual, she brushes the words off and refocuses on her spa day so that she can be at her best for the work week.

ᥫ᭡

despite her best efforts, the next week is particularly irritating. mercury must be doing her shit, maybe all the damn planets, because so many people have had wack ass attitudes and it’s rubbed crys wrong. terrible interactions with customers, coworkers called out and left her in a busy store with little help, and she broke a nail doing something very much so not in her job description. on top of that, the amount of random things outside of her control that have gone haywire is deeply irritating. her tv crapped out and decided to just stop working out of nowhere, her wifi is out for local renovations, and her trash can is missing.

again.

it’s a wonder she hasn’t either had some type of crash out or just cashed in her pto for a fucking break. instead, she decides to get dressed for the gym and puts on a purple workout set. if she wants to be cute and sweaty she damn well will be. she grabs her favorite gym shoes and her essentials. she leaves her curls alone for now, but takes a scrunchie to put it up later. when she gets to the gym at a completely different time than she’s used to, it’s practically empty, save for a young and obviously bored receptionist that’s glued to her phone and a middle aged woman power walking into her destiny.

seriously, crys will have some of what she’s having. the woman is on fire.

sighing to herself, the frazzled girl goes to scan her member qr code, only for the damn scanner to decide to stop working. the blonde receptionist behind the desk sighs as if doing her job is the last thing she wants to do. crys usually wouldn’t blame her for that, but the way she’s popping her gum has the curly headed girl imagining a modern re-enactment of that one scene from that madea movie. the receptionist seems to be in absolutely no rush to fix the scanner, completely oblivious to the metaphorical cloud over crys’ head that’s growing by the minute. she fights the urge to furrow her brows and take a week’s worth of irritation out on the worker, deciding to take a deep breath instead.

the brief look up that the girl gives in response has her immediately regretting her decision.

before she can even think of something to say, the door opens behind her. she’s in no mood to look at the person, figuring they’ll both be waiting in line. she doesn’t want to seem open to small talk because she’s just not. however, the receptionist— becca, her nametag reads— looks up like the sun just graced the sky for the first time in centuries. she stands up straighter, obviously trying to make herself look like she’s doing the job that she’s been failing at, and calls over crys’ shoulder. “hey, ony, technical difficulties. you’re free to go ahead you don’t have to wait, I can check you in once this is fixed,” she smiles. that lucky bastard. it’s the first smile on her face in the entire time the bristling girl has been there. crys swears if this was a cartoon scene, the blonde girl would be fluttering her lashes with hearts in her eyes.

there’s a deep chuckle from behind. “thanks, becca. they should give you a raise,” a low, raspy voice responds. crys’ eye twitches. the hell they should, she thinks. hand me the damn performance review form cause I got shit to say. becca, now looking as if she’s on cloud nine, waves him off dismissively. “just doing my job. leg day?” she questions, trying to sound as casual as possible and not like her drool is threatening to ruin the damn scanner beyond repair. “mhm,” the stranger hums. “nice kicks,” he mumbles.

crys is too busy zoning out and imagining herself tap dancing on the broken pieces of the scanner to realize that he’s talking to her. the way becca’s eyes shift gets her attention. “oh. uh, thanks,” she murmurs, looking up. all she sees is a muscular back walking towards the men’s locker room. she doesn’t have time to look him over because ms. becca decides she actually can do her job and calls out to her that the scanner is fixed.

it just needed to be plugged up again.

ain’t no fuckin’ way.

becca doesn’t even seem embarrassed. she’s holding the scanner lazily and looking around, probably for that ony guy. the blonde doesn’t realize that crys is holding her phone out, and she’s still popping that damn gum. instead of saying something to the girl like she really wants to, she grabs the scanner from the “worker” to check her damn self in and quickly heads to the locker room. the girl doesn’t deserve her week’s worth of anger.

after some time, she’s finally out on the floor to stretch out. soon after the warm up, she’s at the punching bag. it’s not her usual choice of workout, but she took classes when she was younger and knows it’s a great way to release all that irritation from the week in a more physical outlet.

crys quickly wraps her hands and soon she’s throwing punches and listening to rico nasty, an artist who has several tracks on her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist. she gets into her groove, trying to remember the important tips from the classes she attended years ago. it’s hard to recall all the basics, but she gives it her best shot. not too long after, she notices a shadow of someone’s frame behind her. it must be that lucky asshole from earlier, probably here to be a bother. or maybe becca decided to do her job and came to tell her to move her bag off the floor. she sighs, taking out her headphones and turning to look. it’s the stranger. the man’s arms are crossed as he watches, showing his sleeves of tattoos.

crys wishes she could say he was ugly, but he’s definitely not. he’s fine as fuck, actually. his skin is dark and healthy, making him look like he actually has a skincare routine and not just 100-in-one soap. he has an athletic build visible even through his clothes that makes her want to drool like dear old becca. he’s tall, maybe 6’4 or 6’5, so she has to look up at him, even being on the taller side herself. his black durag matches his all black workout fit and she wonders what exactly lies underneath considering the size of his arms.

his demeanor is calm and steady, confident in a way that’s quiet, as opposed to many other gym bros™. his face is calm and there’s barely any tension in his body. crys thinks she’d like to make him bothered, just to get a rise. see if he’ll hold ip or bite back. but no, that’s rude, and she doesn’t know this man at all. his eyes are looking at her intently, and she despises how beautiful they are. why do men get to have natural lashes that look like that? it’s not fair she has to get extensions when his are so long with an almost perfect curl. and the color of his eyes make it worse, the light brown contrasting his dark skin so prettily. and his lips? full, perfect for kissing, among other things.

lucky bastard.

“you gone bite my head off if I suggest how to fix your form?” he asks with a simple raise of his brow.

ᥫ᭡

ony’s a hardworking man. he likes to handle business but have some fun on the side too. he’s chill. everyone would describe him as that. he’s the levelheaded friend, usually the calm in a storm, and not one to be all over the place physically, mentally, or emotionally. he’s a steady beat and he likes it that way. life is peaceful and secure, challenging in certain ways, but calm in others. he has a good paying job as a personal trainer, proper work life balance, and a good head on his shoulders. he doesn’t do too much, honestly, but that doesn’t mean that his life doesn’t have some interesting twists and turns. his boys always seem to need rescuing in some form, sisters all a whirlwind of their own. his mom is always a source of entertainment, although his dad is much like himself. he likes his life, simple as that.

but things have been becoming monotonous lately. his clients aren’t having any interesting developments and his social life is steady but uninteresting overall. his family group chat is going through a quiet spell and his boys are actually not up to anything stupid like they somehow always are. he’s been particularly unfulfilled by the game and there’s no sport he wants to keep up with as of late. it’s all kind of… blah. he’s grateful that nothing’s going wrong. he could be having a bad week as opposed to a boring one, but he aches for a spark, something different to bring a bit more color to his life. maybe he should get a pet? maybe some little fish couldn’t hurt. he thinks over the new idea while he follows his usual routine to pack up and leave for the gym.

and then he sees crys.

he notices her form as she stands at the check in desk, interest piqued. he’s never seen her before, and he comes to this gym at least five nights a week. he knows names and faces, especially since there’s usually no more than five people when he comes. her figure catches and keeps his eye, his gaze taking in the woman’s long legs, thick thighs, and plump ass, seeing how her afro falls around her shoulders. his excuse for where his gaze is centered is that it’s all he can see from where he’s standing, but it’s not much of an excuse. she’s just fine as hell. her workout fit is cute and colorful, contrasting his dark and bland one. her hand is in on her hip that’s popped out, accentuating her form.

his interest is definitely piqued.

he gets to see more of her when he comes around to speak to becca. pretty almond eyes, soft looking lips, the bottom currently being chewed with vigor. she’s beautiful… but one look at her profile and the flames in her eyes tell him all he needs to know: look the other way. ony grew up surrounded by strong black women in his life, his mom, sisters, aunts, cousins… learning to read body language and— well, the room, was something he learned quickly and he’s applied that lesson everywhere in life. everything about her body language and that cute, barely contained frown screams bad day. so he greets becca— who’s really a sweet girl, just unbothered— compliments her shoes, and moves on about his routine.

it’s like clockwork. he puts his stuff away, makes sure his chain is safe and secure, fills his water bottle, waves at mrs. etta on the treadmill, stretches, locks in, and gets the workout started.

he’s getting into his mode and enveloping himself in the feel of the workout, but he can’t help the way his eyes are pulled back to crys. the way she stretches, the way she adorably bobs her head to the seemingly… aggressive? music. she’s gorgeous and new, which has him feeling like every routine move he makes is just a little different. her and her angry pout and her curves and her curls…

she approachs a punching bag, which ony can admit he didn’t expect. the outfit convinced him she’d be power walking with mrs. etta, or doing pilates in the corner. his mom always told him what assuming does to someone, though. he looks away as he tries to focus on anything other than her. he counts his reps like usual, trying to submerge himself in his music. it doesn’t work. as soon as she takes her first swing, his eyes are back on her, taking notice of how she punches.

hm.

he can see she knows a bit more than someone just randomly choosing to throw a few hits, but he isn’t fond of some of the habits she has that could actually hurt in the long run. he debates approaching, but he’s always been one to help others in the gym. attitude be damned, he’s a personal trainer. he knows the importance of doing things correctly. after watching for a while, he decides to walk over. he knows that if she doesn’t fix her punch, she’ll be angry all over again tomorrow because of sore wrists. she turns, obviously annoyed, but he’s not scared. she looks him up and down, her facial expression barely shifting. he wonders what she’s thinking, wants to hear her voice. when she finally looks up at him with those eyes, he almost tilts his head.

how can someone be so fuckin’ pretty?

she’s a vision with her bare face. eyes he could get lost in, features he wants to admire for moments on end. he would actually guess that she’s quite sweet behind the haze of her frustration. obviously a multifaceted person, and he’s interested in the idea of learning all those facets. who she is, maybe what she likes, what she doesn’t like. maybe even what makes her happy, what would put a smile on the adorably scrunched up face. for some reason, he wants to see that happy expression. actually, as a matter of fact, he wants to see all her expressions. smiling, confused, relaxed, aroused. she’s caught him with a simple gaze and he’s confused about it.

“you actually know what you’re doing?” she asks. it’s not meant to be a jab, truthfully. she’s been hit on by guys that try to “help” just to flirt, but ultimately make a fool of themselves— and her for giving them the opportunity. she doesn’t have the patience for it today, it in fact might be the straw that breaks her back. she can see amusement tickle at his expression, but no signs of him being offended.

because he’s not. he can tell she isn’t asking in a facetious way, she just seems… tired. like she doesn’t want her time wasted. he can respect that. “I promise you, I do,” he says with a slight smile. just a little one, unable to contain his utter enjoyment in her sass, and still having that almost sickening feeling of attraction.

crys hums, her gaze sweeping over him again briefly, taking in his calm but confident demeanor. the little smile on his face is lowkey pissing her off, but she has enough sense to know it’s because she has a lot of stress to work out. he’s fine as hell and now’s really not the time for all that. even still, he’s bold to come over with the metaphorical storm still rolling above her head. bold… or stupid. who walks towards a burning house? but she knows if he could tell her form was off from so far, she could really be messing herself up with how she’s going at the punching bag. she wants to just kick and punch it randomly, similar to what her ‘temper tantrum’ playlist suggests, but she knows that’s no good. and again, he’s fine as hell.

all the same, she’s still irritated and frustration-filled. “sure, yeah,” she mumbles as she turns back to the bag.

ony’s quite intrigued, interestingly enough. he knows a person close to the brink when he sees one. he can see the irritation in her eyes and in the way her shoulders are set. her movements are stiff and her brows are still pinched, gorgeous even with the possibly dangerous amount of upset toiling in her. despite her tense demeanor, he can tell she’s still at least trying to be respectful. and he appreciates it.

“what’s your name?” he asks, shifting to stand next to her. she’s staring at the bag, itching to just punch. “crys,” she answers, sparing him a glance as she fixes the wrapping on her hands. she’s pulling it tight, her movements swift. she can feel him watching her intently and she doesn’t know how she feels about it.

he nods. “ony. I’m no expert but I can share a few tips to keep you from gettin’ hurt. mind if I touch you?” he asks, the question second nature from dealing with his clients. he knows better than to start without given permission, and he definitely knows he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of her irritation. “s’fine,” she answers, ignoring the very inappropriate response that her brain comes up with. not now, brain. nasty ass. she really just wants him to hurry up so she can go back to punching, but she supposes she can hold back for a few more minutes if it’s him that’s going to touch her. plus it’s important to do it right, and even through her upset she knows that and is grateful for his help. if he could just be a little faster, though, that’d be wonderful.

he approaches, gently taking her hand in his as he unwraps her binding. “it’s a good wrap, but they shouldn’t be too tight. you gone hurt yourself that way,” he mumbles. his hands move slowly, demonstrating to her as he explains. it’s not in the show off-y way she expected, but direct and intentional instead. she’s glad he’s helping but a part of her is focused a bit too much on how his hands feel, how calming his voice is. “you should be able to spread your fingers. this’ll save your wrists and then some, yeah?” he murmurs, gently tapping her hand. still upset, she hates how soothing the contact is. she doesn’t need soothing, she needs violence.

that… might be dramatic. she knows it. but the week’s frustrations have all built to this moment and she plans to take full advantage of the punching bag in front of her. if he doesn’t pick up the pace, he might just take its place, handsome or not. “gotcha,” she mutters. “can I hit the bag now?” ony chuckles, and she’s mad that she really likes the sound. “sure. do a couple jabs.”

she takes a deep breath, her focus zoning on the bag. his presence fades slightly as she begins going at it, a bit overzealous. he lets her take a few punches, seeing how she obviously needs it. his gaze sweeps her form, watching her hips swivel slightly as she swings. her hits start with a decently healthy form, but the more she gets into it, ony can tell her focus is slipping. “okay, hold,” he murmurs. she doesn’t hear him and continues punching. her breathing is picking up and the cute scrunch between her brows is deepening. “hold,” he says louder, getting her attention. she huffs and raises out of her stance, blowing a stray out of her face. she steps forward and holds the bag to stop its movements, looking over at him.

ony could almost laugh at the way the curl flops right back into place. swears he could almost see her eyebrow twitch. damn, who pissed her off? “you got some good habits and some bad habits,” he mumbles, standing parallel to her now. “need to swing your hips more, not push through your arm. pop the bag, don’t push your punch.” he moves slowly as he speaks, demonstrating his words with his movements. it’s easy to follow, but his muscles are stealing the show, to crys’ dismay. “I was doing that,” she mumbles in response because she indeed was. “mhm, at the beginning. the more you put in, the less you focus on your form,” he says as he returns to his earlier position, arms crossed. “go again,” he nods. “bossy,” she mumbles. she likes it. he’s giving proper tips and doesn’t really care about her attitude, seeming unaffected.

ony chuckles, seemingly knowing there’s no actual anger in her tone, at least not completely directed at him. crys supposes he’s right. when she gets in the flow, her mind focuses less on her form and more on the happenings of the week. she definitely could’ve weakened her stance, and his words bring memories of her previous instructor. he might not be an expert, but he knows what he’s saying for sure. she gets back into her stance and takes a few more hits, more focused on her form this time around. she can’t quite lose herself to the exercise with the newfound focus, and she doesn’t like it. “better,” ony calls out. “keep goin’.” so she does. she follows his instructions to a t, feeling a bit more comfortable with the continued form as she practices.

“nice, real nice,” he murmurs, shifting to hold the bag from behind. he notices the hesitation in her movements as she focuses on her form. “come on,” his deep voice encourages. “where that fire go, huh? tellin’ me you can’t fight and focus?” crys, probably feeling goaded, looks up to him for a moment. ony could laugh again at the look in her eyes, but he doesn’t. “don’t look at me, look at the bag. you mad, I know it. let it out,” he nods his head to the bag in his hands. he doesn’t have to tell her twice. she starts to hit with more vigor, putting more into her punches. “mhm, yeah. control that shit, stay tight. swivel your— there you go, exactly,” he encourages. she’s picking it up, movements smoother and becoming more confident by the minute.

shit’s sexy as fuck.

crys is actually starting to fuck with him more, feeling herself in the workout. the way he’s talking is having an affect on her, and she knows she’ll be thinking back on this very moment tonight. his voice is deep, and slightly raspy as she keeps at it, and the encouraging makes her wonder if he’s like that in… different circumstances. she can feel her breath picking up for several reasons. “had you mad as fuck, huh? had you fucked up?” ony questions, pushing her a bit more. “let that shit out, ma. ain’t doin’ you no good to hold it in.” they both know that he’s telling the truth. she was just about bursting at the seams and his encouragement is helping her tap back into that. she punches harder, small grunts falling from her lips. the week’s frustrations are pouring out of her now and she’s pushing herself so that she can get him out of her head.

the way he’s talking to her in her amped up state just shouldn’t be legal. she’s pretty sure he’s the type to talk his girl through it, probably tease and taunt to get a reaction. damn, she needs to get laid. “form,” he reminds as her focus slips. she gives a quick nod, readjusting herself quickly before taking another shot. ony likes how quickly she responds to his guidance. “hell yeah, you got that shit. keep goin’, mama. ain’t nobody fuckin’ with you, that’s for damn sure.”

damn his fine ass with his deep voice and his face and his pet name.

she keeps going until every ounce of upset is drained, listening to his encouragement and occasional shit talking at a particularly weak punch or slip of focus. she’ll be honest, she feels good. great, actually. she feels as if she actually knows what she’s doing, confident in her moves. the upset has trickled away, but its absence is leaving too much space to think about the man in front of her. his fine ass is pushing her in the way she likes and needs, encouraging but taunting just the way she likes it.

after several more minutes, she steps back, panting. “killed that shit,�� ony mumbles, double tapping the bag. she really did, the difference between her earlier attempts and now is stark. and all because of just a few pointers. he watches as she catches her breath and unwraps her hands. “you done?” he questions. he wasn’t expecting her to finish so soon, she was just getting in her groove. he was honestly expecting a few more rounds.

“yeah,” crys answers as she nods. “thanks for your help, really. just needed to blow off some steam.” feeling better now, she decides that she should finish out with her regular workout. the less angry she is, the more she focuses on that damn smirk on his face, the way his muscles move with each shift of his body, the birthmark she’s spotted on his jaw. she’s trying hard to resist the pull she feels as she catches her breath. she gets another chuckle from ony. “could tell. I almost didn’t even come over. bad day?”

crys gives a sheepish smile, sliding her wrap in her bag. ony likes the smile a lot, but he wants more. “my bad. bad week, actually,” the woman responds. ony shakes his head, uncrossing his arms. “no harm, I get it,” he responds. and he really does, most of the time people’s attitudes really have nothing to do with you. “you should keep at it though, you got good form. at least when you’re focused. with some more practice, you could easily make it muscle memory.” and I’d like to see you more, he thinks. crys smiles and nods. “think I will. thanks again for your help, woulda been pissed if I hurt myself.”

ony’s eyes trail over her features. with the metaphorical cloud gone, she’s shining brighter. her smile is gorgeous, revealing a small gap in her teeth and a crinkle by her eyes. yeah. fuckin’ beautiful. “course. can’t have you gettin’ mad again, yeah?” he laughs, the sound deep as it rumbles from his chest. crys playfully rolls her eyes. “whatever, ony. actin’ like I’m godzilla or something. you can gone back to your workout.”

the two separate, continuing their sessions. but their eyes continuously meet as they sneak glances at each other and they exchange flirty quips. crys questions the amount of weight ony chooses for his sets, teasing that she’d thought he’d lift more. ony calls her out for a weak rep, telling her she should start over for half-assing. they just can’t seem to get enough of each other, teasing and poking at one another like crushing kids in school.

crys is definitely eating their interactions up. he’s fun in a way that isn’t childish, regardless of how he makes her almost giddy like a teenage girl. he’s not afraid to go along with a joke, but it’s obvious he’s not one to be messed with. no matter how many shots she takes, no matter how much she teases, he never breaks a sweat. it’s almost as if he’s welcoming the challenge and crys is more than willing to indulge.

ony likes her fire. it’s invigorating and it keeps him on his toes. he’s used to women being like becca— fawning, overly sweet, and obviously interested. the push and tug he gets from crys is different, and he’s enjoying every interaction, every tease, every glance at that ass. she just draws him in and he can’t get enough. where the hell has she been and why are they just now meeting? he could’ve shown her a lot more than boxing tips by now.

for her cool down, crys decides that since the gym is pretty much empty, she can take some extra time to do some yoga and meditation. she zones in and takes a plethora of deep breaths, regulating her nervous system and releasing tension. grounding herself in the present moment and releasing stress, anxiety, and frustration. it definitely helps as a follow up to the punching bag. she’s always appreciated how centered she feels after even just a few minutes of reconnecting with herself, tending to her mind, heart, and soul and not just her body. she should definitely do yoga often to stay balanced, but shoulda woulda coulda.

the second she starts to stretch, ony’s eyes are stuck on her like glue. she stretches for a long time, he notices. it seems like some type of meditation, the way she holds her hands together and closes her eyes, highly focused as she takes deep breaths almost audible where he stands. it’s interesting how he can notice the shift she makes from her earlier demeanor. she’s much calmer, locked in in a way unexpected to him. of course he knows how to calm himself, how to regulate. but those stretches… not only is he sure he could never replicate them due to lack of flexibility, but he can see the intention in each move, seemingly in each muscle and breath.

it’s weird to him how pulled he feels in her direction. he just wants to know her and is curious if she’d give him the chance. and of course he wants to know her body too… he could definitely help her relieve a lot of that stress. over and over again. probably until she couldn’t take anymore. something about her just keeps pulling him back in. maybe he’s just interested in her newness with his life currently feeling a bit more dull, but he knows he’d be just as interested if it wasn’t. she has spice, a good sense of humor, sweetness, she’s undoubtedly beautiful with all her little quirks, and that ass is the kind that a man would go to war for.

seriously.

especially with the way she’s sitting and stretching with her legs wide, chest flush against the floor. it’s making ony have thoughts, and a lot of them. after a while of being unable to stop looking, he decides to walk over. he stands above her with his arms crossed, head tilting as he looks down at her. “how the hell you even doin’ allat?” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself. and what else can she do? he wonders.

crys laughs in response, still enjoying the feel of the stretch. “I do it often. years of youtube videos, I guess,” she responds. she raises, intentionally moving slow for the practice. it’s just a bonus that she can feel his eyes on her ass. “sit down,” she grins, looking up at him with mischief in her eyes. he had his turn helping her, and now she’s going to do the same. whether he likes it or not. plus, it’d be real nice to spend some more time with him. she likes his presence and his laugh and his little jokes. his looks, his demeanor, the way he’s not scared when she nips at him instead either remains unaffected or nips right back… kind of everything about him, so far at least. “huh?” he asks, eyebrows raising. “nigga, if you can ‘huh’ you can hear. sit down and stretch with me,” she laughs.

ony likes the sound. a lot, he realizes. and her sass really tickles him. so why not? he shrugs, plopping down on the floor next to her.

“yoga’s more than stretchin’,” she begins. “yeah, it feels good for the body, but it’s good for the mind too. it’s a lot deeper than I can explain. it’s one of those things that’s been taken from another culture and kinda wiped of its authenticity.” he watches her as she talks with her hands, her caring a lot more about it than he expected. but he’s interested and following along with her words. “I try to respect it, y’know? it has a lot of benefits. can I touch?” she asks with a tilt of her head. he appreciates how her curls bounce with the movement and gives a simple nod of his head. “sit up straight,” she adjusts his back. “and keep your focus on your breath, keeping an awareness of your body as well. stay mindful of the present moment.”

the moment her hand touches him, he sits up. not because of her words but because of the feel of her hands on him. she’s gentle with her guidance, her touch almost hesitant and her voice has softened in a way that sends a slight chill down his spine. “sorry, are my hands cold?” she asks apologetically. “as fuck,” he answers with a laugh. “keep goin’ though.” crys laughs and pinches him softly. “aht, aht, I’m the teacher now, I give the directions. straighten out your legs.” ony rolls his eyes in response but follows her instruction. he mumbles a soft “yeah, aight.”

she gently bumps her shoulder against his at his sass. “lean forward and reach for your feet, curving your back. take a moment to center yourself, focusing on your breath and how your body feels. don’t think about anything, not even me,” she teases slightly. ony can’t help but smile at that. “you make it difficult, sweetheart,” he mumbles. her stomach flutters in response. he takes a deep breath before closing his eyes, reaching for his feet. “don’t forget to breath, nice and deep. relax your mind and let your thoughts fade away,” she mutters softly. “relax. really feel the peace and the stretch.”

oh, ony feels something, alright. but he focuses his mind on the way his muscles feel. he’s used to stretching, but the mental part has never been the most important aspect. he likes how quiet his mind is, how the peace envelopes him like a warm hug.

she guides him through several more positions, helping him to stay centered mentally. her voice is so soothing, her touch as she adjusts him doing things to him. he feels good. really good. the combination of the practice with her presence is something he intends to make sure he gets more of. she’s so cute with her little chides. a “stretch deeper, ony” here, a “you’re not even trying” there. and her obvious favorite, “you know you can do better than that”. actually, no, her favorite thing to say in reprimand is his name. it’s a pleasant hint of flirting and teasing mixed with gentle guidance and words of calm.

by the end of the night, ony’s hooked. before she can walk to the locker room, he gently grabs her wrist to get her attention. “hey, wait, ma,” he murmurs softly. she looks up at him with those eyes again and he’s suddenly parched. “can I get your number? you know, I can send you some boxing tips.” crys tries to fight a smile but fails. “oh, really? boxing tips? sure, long as I can send some yoga tips.” he laughs a bit, smiling at her tone. “yeah, send ‘em. gotta be on my namaste more, shit was nice.” crys tilts her head back slightly as she laughs. “boy, whatever. here.”

ᥫ᭡

crys is folding. real bad.

at first, she thought she’d just do some light flirting, maybe just tease and taunt and go on about her merry way. she didn’t have any intentions on really following through with the man because he just seems like a threat to her safe, protected little bubble of diy nails and chilling alone at home. but as time goes on, she realizes that she’s in a quicksand situation. swapped informational videos of boxing and yoga are just the beginning. soon, they’re texting back and forth. funny videos sent at way too late at night, a range of questions exchanged as they get to know each other, random voice messages that make her stomach tingle… she looks forward to speaking with him, even changes his text tone so she knows when it’s him.

he’s just so funny in such a simple, straightforward way. sometimes she bites at him and he doesn’t budge a bit, not giving her the satisfaction of a reaction. sometimes they go back and forth like a tennis match. he’s not afraid of her sass and she loves when he actually bites back. he’s just… attractive. in a lot of ways, on so many different levels. she ends up going to the gym late more often because he’ll be there, spotting her while she lifts and helping her with her boxing. ms. becca at the front desk seems to really not like it, but her non-working ass can move on somewhere. crys and ony start a routine that whenever she comes to work out with him, they grab food and sit in one of their cars to goof around. they even decide to power walk with mrs. etta every now and then.

it’s insanity to kt, though. she doesn’t understand why they haven’t ‘fucked each other like bunnies’ already and she reminds crys every time they talk. they’d scrolled his instagram together several times and he’s a popular topic between the two of them, three including kt’s boyfriend. he, of course, has a front row seat to these conversations since ms. kt never wants to use her damn headphones.

one particular night, crys is just really not feeling the workout. she’s more tired than usual and ony can tell. she’s not her usual, witty self. not a single jab has any bite to it, and it’s the same with her words. he doesn’t like it. she’s not supposed to be quiet or sad. he doesn’t like the distant look in her eyes and how she gives a weak smile at his teasing. “hey,” he murmurs. “go get changed and get your stuff.” he watches as she looks up at him with a furrowed brow. “you’re obviously not feelin’ up to it. we’ve done enough, let’s grab sum to eat.”

crys was going to push through, get her workout regardless. “nah, I’m good,” she shrugs him off. “no, you ain’t. quit playin’, it’s not a suggestion,” he grumbles back. that surprises her, but she guesses it shouldn’t really. one thing that she’s noticed is how good he is at reading people, and he’s really good at reading her now. he knows when to push, and has learned how to in several different circumstances. she guesses this is one of them. his tone is different than usual though. it’s set, no room for negotiations, no joking around. his eyes are focused and sharp in a way that almost even she doesn’t want to argue with. “…right. yeah, okay. I can go by myself though, you can finish your workout,” she mutters softly.

“what I say?”

crys didn’t need to be told again. his whole demeanor is looking more immovable than ever, eyes and tone telling her to get her ass to the locker room, basically. if it were anyone else, she would’ve fired back and asked who the hell he thought he was. but at this point, she’s too tired and she really doesn’t want to poke the bear. so she sighs and nods, grabbing her bag as she shuffles back to the locker room to get her stuff. she’s grateful, honestly, because as soon as she sits in the passenger seat of his car, she feels like she’s been hit by a bus but it’s really just a wave of exhaustion.

“you pushin’ too hard, ma,” he murmurs, his eyes on the road as he drives. he’s seen her energy decreasing over time, the spark in her eyes dimming. he’d slide a comment in or two about taking a break only for her to brush it off like it was no problem. she’s stubborn and he knows that, but fully capable of taking care of herself, which is why he wasn’t expecting it to get this far. she’s drained and he’ll be damned if he just stands by and watches her continue down this path. especially with the way her head is leaning against his window. usually he’d say something about her hair products getting on it, but he couldn’t give a damn about that.

“you been slackin’ and you know it. wassup?” he questions as he spares her a glance. she sighs, her eyes closing as he makes the familiar trip to their usual spot. “stress. I’ve just been stressed,” she answers. that much he could tell. it’s not really the information he’s looking for though. “mhm. why?” he presses. his voice is a mix of tenderness and concern but also firmness. he’s not going to let her brush this under the rug. “just a lot of shit goin’ on, ony. work’s a mess, they can barely do anything without me there they’re always arguing and never getting anything done. I’ve been looking for another job for months with no luck and it’s really starting to become a problem because I want to leave soon. and I don’t know, I just want to be in a different situation than I am right now.”

ony hums, rolling her words over in his head. he knows she’s been trying to leave her job, even sent her resume out to a few people he knows just to help out. he can understand her frustration, he was in a similar boat before he started his own thing and became a personal trainer. he gets it, the stress from working in a place that drains you and how so many job rejections can affect a person. “it’s alright, ma. I know that don’t mean much to you right now, but it’s gone work out, aight? I’ll put some pressure on my folks, help see what’s out there. you still got some pto right?” he asks. she sighs, rubbing her forehead. “yeah, but I’ve been saving it for a rainy day.” he could almost chuckle.

“it don’t seem like it’s rainin’ to you?” he pushes slightly. “take some time off. rest and relax so you can come back better. do yo yoga and shit, smoke some, whatever. you need a break, babygirl. no positive change is gonna come from you stressin’ and burnin’ out. it’s a three day weekend coming up, take the couple days before that off too.” she looks out the window as they pull into the drive thru. he’s right and she knows it. it’s just so easy for her to get swept up into the stress and lose herself a little bit more and more until she realizes just how close she is to burning out. she can feel tears gathering in her eyes from the stress.

“oh, pretty girl,” he mumbles, seeing the emotion in her eyes. he pulls off to the side and parks in the back of the lot instead of getting in line. “c’mere, crystal,” he croons, reaching an arm around her to pull her close. she sniffles and her shoulders shake as she cries into his shoulder, letting out what she’s let build up for so long. “s’okay, ma. you really doin’ good shit, providin’ for yourself and workin’ hard. it’s gonna work out, you gotta believe that,” he presses, squeezing her tighter. “but you can’t do this, okay? you can’t wither away like this. your health is important and if you neglect it, it’ll affect everything. I don’t like seein’ you upset and tired and drained. wanna see that pretty smile, get a taste of that sass that irks me so much.” she laughs slightly in his arms, her own wrapping around him as he gives her the most comforting hug she’s had in a while. “you’re right or whatever. big headed ass,” she mumbles.

“there she is.”

ᥫ᭡

after that night, she did exactly what he suggested. she took those extra days off and just recovered. smoked, slept a whole bunch, had a self-care day, and even booked a massage just for an extra treat. of course she talked ony’s ear off, and texted him and her best friend a bunch too, but it was necessary in her eyes. she knows they love her presence, even if they call her annoying. by her last day off, she feels rejuvenated.

she feels less stressed. she has a revamped resume, a mini twist out that’s cute and lets her leave her hair alone, new nails, and a new attitude. but… crys is running out of excuses to give as far as her and ony. his support that night meant more to her than he probably even knew. the way he held her, calmed her down, and comforted her… it’s something that’s been plaguing dancing in her mind. he’s shown that he can handle her full range of emotions no problem and can support her regardless of how strongly she feels. at this point, even she’s started to wonder why they haven’t done anything. she hasn’t made a move, no, but neither has he. he seems perfectly content with the way things are and is starting to become bothersome.

she can’t get him out of her head. his voice, his laugh, his features. every time he encourages her while she’s going at the punching bag, she wants to push the damn thing out of the way and just tackle him. when she can feel his eyes on her while they stretch, she wants to show him exactly what she can do and how her flexibility can blow his fucking mind. she wants to kiss him, touch him, hear those encouraging words that he gives her in an entirely different setting.

but his lack of action is causing her to overthink. is he not as affected as she is? does his heart not pound in her presence like hers does in his? how the hell is she the only one gnawing her lip at the thought of more? maybe it’s because she hasn’t had sex in so long. maybe that’s it. she’s just like this because of her wack ass sex life.

contrary to crys’ perspective, though, ony is losing his shit.

he definitely would’ve made a move by now if these were usual circumstances. he’s just so thrown off by how much he likes her, how much she makes him feel. she’s so much more than that pretty face and that mouth watering body. she’s funny, witty, and she packs a nasty ass punch both with her words and her hands. he likes the full range of crys. mouthy and annoying, intentionally trying to get a raise out of him. flirty and teasing, sensual in the way she draws him in. sweet and serene, almost like an oasis of calm and tranquility. oh, and he can’t forget how expressive she is with every emotion. her anger when her order’s wrong at the late night burger place they frequent, her excitement and joy when mrs. etta tells her about another good scan at the doctor, her sadness when she sees a sad tiktok during rest periods.

he just doesn’t get it. how can one person be so damn enthralling? how can someone’s quirks and flaws be so beautiful? he’s never felt pulled like this, but you know what? he’s fucking with it. she’s done nothing but add color to his life, a great addition that he felt like he was waiting for without even knowing. he loves her presence. she makes him smile and belly laugh, she pisses him off, she lights him up. he can be goofy with her, serious, sensitive even. he just wants more and more of crys, and even when he thinks maybe there’s nothing left to surprise him about her, she whips something new out of her arsenal. it’s just crazy how she has him by the throat but he’s happy to be along for the ride.

but he’s really wanting that ride to go somewhere. he’s always thought that it was crazy that crys is single, he just doesn’t understand it. in his eyes, she’s everything great in a woman. confident, sensitive, hardworking, sweet… annoying but in the best ways, enthralling, sexy as all hell.

when he’s ranting to eren about her for the nth time, the brunette raises an eyebrow at him and asks what’s taking him so long to ask her out. ony blinks. he thought they were… well, something already. but the sense that’s been chasing him for quite a while now finally catches up to him and hits him like a truck. he has to say something. do something. the unspoken thing doesn’t work for adults, and definitely not if he actually wants to keep her. is he an idiot? he wants to say no to his own question so badly, but he knows he would be delusional if he did.

so he quickly decides to get his shit together. the next time he sees crys, he’s asking her on an actual date, and that’s it. this whole thing could’ve been at a different point if he’d taken his head out of his ass and asked her out that first night he saw her in the gym. but it’s too late to try to change the past, and he can fix his mistakes in the present.

ᥫ᭡

unfortunately for ony, crys has a nasty attitude the next time they meet. her answers are short and snippy, and not in the usual, fun way. they had plans to go shopping together to buy mrs. etta a congratulatory something for completing her treatment, both having become extremely fond of the lady and being supportive of her on her journey. ony picks her up, being the gentleman he is (he hates her driving) and it takes no time at all to notice the bitter air around her. he actually realizes it the second she closes the door to her townhouse too damn hard. she huffs and puffs as she gets settled in the passenger seat.

crys doesn’t really know exactly why she’s so mad. it’s another one of those days where the stress has built up so quickly without her noticing, something that happens when her head isn’t fully in the game. she doesn’t want to take it out on ony, never means to, but something about knowing that he can handle that shit keeps her from being as mindful as she should be. “hey,” he speaks, his eyebrow raising at her lack of greeting. “hey,” she greets blandly. “what’s wrong, ma?” he asks, looking from her to the road as he pulls off. she just shakes her head. “thanks for picking me up,” she murmurs. “of course,” he responds.

he’s eyeing her every once in a while, trying to pick up on whatever he can. she’s fiddling a lot, tapping her fingers as she looks out the window. antsy? irritated? what is it, he wonders. but he’s not super fond of playing the guessing game, by now she should know that she can talk to him about any and everything on her mind and in her heart. he’ll listen, he’ll care, and he’ll support. hasn’t he shown that? “you lyin’ to me, ma. don’t like it,” he mumbles. she doesn’t answer and he really doesn’t like that. “what’s the issue, crys? talk,” he presses, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. this isn’t anything he’s used to from her. mouthy sometimes? sure. that’s nothing he can’t handle. but the silent treatment mixed with the tense attitude is not how he was planning to spend this time with her.

“nothin’, just tired.” she murmurs. his eyebrows furrow. “we can reschedule if you want,” he responds, understanding. “nah,” she says simply. she can’t explain it, she doesn’t really want to act like this. she’s just not exactly happy at the moment and the two seem to have very different vibes. guess that’s the theme, huh? she thinks. “mama, you not bein’ fair. tryna talk to you,” he mumbles. she rolls her eyes, looking out the window. “yeah, talk. your favorite thing to do,” she mumbles.

ony pauses, but only for a moment. “and that’s supposed to mean?” crys sighs, as if she’s really just over him. “nothing, ony, m’sorry. are we goin’ to macy’s or ross first?” she’s trying to deflect, and although ony’s not stupid, he lets her. maybe she just needs time, she can be like that every now and then. carrying around irritation from an earlier incident until it eventually fades and she’s good to go. sometimes she just needs to process her emotions, and ony’s cool with that. he’s cool with anything with her, it seems.

they end up at ross first, mrs. etta’s favorite store that she talks about when they power walk with her. they get her random things, little trinkets that remind them of her, lotions and candles, and a few decorative pieces for her house. they move to macy’s to get her a perfume she likes, and a few other random things that draw their attention. last is dollar.25 tree and a couple other craft stores, the mission being to grab a big basket and additional stuffing to make her a custom gift basket with a congratulatory card from both of them. crys is quieter than usual the entire time, but not necessarily agitated. it seems like shopping for mrs. etta is cheering her up.

seems.

once they get to her house, ony can tell by the way she groans as she flops onto her couch that she’s not a hundred percent. at this point, he’s confused and maybe a bit worried. what is it that has her so upset? he doesn’t like when she’s quiet, much rather her be loud and expressive with whatever emotion she’s feeling. it’s eerie when she’s quiet and ony can’t tell what she’s thinking or feeling. he doesn’t like to be in the dark.

“c’mon, ma, let’s go ahead and get this assembled. we can talk and smoke after,” he mumbles, moving to set the stuff down on her dining room table. he wants to sit and smoke, get her to shake herself out of whatever fucking funk she’s in, but he figures it’s a good idea to finish up mrs. etta’s gift. he really wants it to be perfect. he’s known mrs. etta for a while, she was even one of the people that encouraged him the most when he first started training, and he’s extremely happy that her treatment is done. a bratty sigh is heard from the girl on the couch and ony has to close his eyes to center himself. “we can’t take a break? all that shopping. m’tired.”

ony licks his lips and lets out a breath. “sure, ma, take a break. imma get started on this, I’ll chill after,” he responds. crys doesn’t like the little breath he takes, his tone coming across patronizing to her. “you tired of me? cause I can really do that shit by myself,” she responds lowly. she swears she can see a vein appear on ony’s forehead, but only momentarily. “nah. just want this gift to be good,” he mumbles. crys sits up to look at him. “it’s good already, we put a lot of thought into everything. what, you think I can’t assemble it myself?” her head tilts. because she could make the prettiest damn basket all on her own, really. she’ll prove it if she has to.

ony’s on the brink. he’s been patient all day— he’s always patient with her. it’s usually no issue, but today she’s really pushing it. mrs. etta should be the focus right now. “you don’t hear me talkin’ to you?” she asks, her eyebrows beginning to furrow. “yes, love, I hear you,” he murmurs. “just focused.” he’s really trying to keep it together.

crys scoffs, “yeah, well, you can focus and talk. you wouldn’t have to focus as much if you waited on me.” ony wonders what he did to be in this position. he hasn’t done shit to her, hasn’t said anything disrespectful, and he knows that she isn’t usually one to take her shit out on him, so he’s just thinking. wondering what has her so mad. “there you go again, not fuckin’ responding,” she huffs, standing up and crossing her arms. “you can just get the hell out forreal, I can finish this mysel—“

“sit the fuck down.”

crys blinks. and then blinks again. “excuse me?” she asks. she couldn’t have heard that right. he wouldn’t talk to her like that, he’s not insane. but the look he gives when he turns to her gives her second thoughts on that theory. “you heard me. sit the fuck down. I’m not leavin’ and you’re about to act like you have some fucking respect instead of poppin’ off at the mouth. I’ve dealt with your shit ask damn day, trying to be patient and understanding— like I always am with yo lil ass. I’m not playin’ crys. sit down,” he demands. and he really means that shit too, she can tell.

crys’ jaw is damn near on the floor by the time he finishes talking. “who you talkin’ t—“ she starts, only to be interrupted by a slow approaching ony, having put the materials he was working with down. “crys, I swear, if you don’t get some act right—“ he starts, trying to keep his breath even and his body calm. tired of being interrupted, crys decides to give him a taste of his own medicine. “what? what you gone do? talk my ear off? stand there and look at me with your arms crossed? I ain’t scared of you, ony. you don’t do shit and won’t do shit to me.”

“nah. I’ma fuck you,” he answers as he steps into her personal space. if crys’ jaw was on the floor before, it’s in hell now. there’s no way he just said that. “fuck that nasty ass attitude right outta you. you playin’ in my face, ma. you know I don’t like that shit. I’ve been so fuckin’ understanding with yo ass, somethin’ not every nigga is willin’ to do, by the way. you push and you push and I let yo ass. is that the problem?” he tilts his head, chest almost touching hers as he looks down. his eyes are dark, his jaw tense. the vein she thought she saw earlier is bulging now, almost angrier than ony himself. “is the problem that I let yo lil ass keep pushin’ me? cause I swear it don’t mean that I’ll just let the shit slide. and I’ll prove that shit too.”

ᥫ᭡

“fuck,” crys pants, tugging on the sheets in front of her. “please,” her voice breaks. “just— just lemme come. I’m so close, ony, please!”

she’s been on all fours for a while now, face buried in the bed as ony works her with his tongue and fingers. she’s in a pool of her own arousal, thighs wet and pussy drenched from the several times she’s been close to the edge, only to be disappointed each time as she’s denied her orgasm. her bottom lip is bitten raw, toes almost permanently curled and eyes finding a home in the back of her head as she pushes her hips back again and again to coax ony to at least let her have one. if she knew this was going to be the result of her attitude today, she would’ve just asked him to fuck her before they even left to go shopping. she’s waited enough for this, and even now when she’s so close, she’s getting denied.

there’s a harsh but absolutely welcome smack to her ass and she whines so damn pathetically that ony almost laughs. pulls his full lips from her clit with a pop and massages the cheek. “you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice low and raspy in a way unfamiliar to crys. she quickly shakes her head and grips the sheets tighter. “no, please! keep going, wanna come on your face,” she begs, pushing her hips to meet his lips again. the sound and sight of her is addicting, ony thinks. he likes the way she seems so desperate for his touch and tongue, craving that release that he’s been building up for so long. “you wanna come?” he asks, his fingers sliding back into her soaked pussy. he can feel her clench around him almost instantly. fuck he’s going to enjoy tonight. “yes! yes, wanna come!” she pants, rocking her hips to meet the thrust of his long fingers.

“then shut the fuck up and let me have my fun,” he murmurs, diving his face back in as his tongue meets her clit once again. “ah, shit,” she whimpers, her eyes rolling back again at the pleasure that washes over her. “yes, yes, just like that. fuck, you eatin’ my pussy up,” she moans. she’s never been so mad but so pleased at the same time. he’s torturing her and she doesn’t know how much longer she can last before she releases all over him without his say so. she’s already been through so much, she doesn’t want to find out what else he’ll do , even if it’s his fault. “my fuckin’ pussy,” he pulls back to murmur, flicking his tongue quickly over her pearl as his fingers continue to pump. she’s so wet, his fingers move with ease, and the sound that’s made is delicious. “say that shit.”

“fuck, I’ll say whatever you want,” she whines, back arching and toes throwing up gang signs. “s’your pussy, baby! take it take it take it,” she moans, throwing her ass back over and over. she’s so damn close, so damn close. she can almost taste it. her tummy feels like it’s about to burst and her poor pussy is sobbing. he pulls back once again to her dismay, reading her body like a book. “you betta not fuckin’ come,” he murmurs, fingers moving faster as they stretch her. how the hell is she not supposed to come? is he insane? “you fuckin’ kidding meee?” she whines, her head falling down onto the sheets. ony likes how spent she looks already, and he hasn’t even fucked her yet. “you know damn well I ain’t,” he grumbles, smacking her ass again. “arch that shit. it’s gone be a long night if you don’t listen to me, baby.”

in a turn of events, ony’s pussy drunk. he’s enjoying himself way too much, taking in her moans and slurping up what’s now his to pleasure. he’s just drowning in her, hands exploring everywhere he can touch. caressing, appreciating, adoring this beautiful woman falling apart on his tongue. he could do this all day and be grateful every second of it. he’s absolutely aching in his shorts, but something about bringing such a normally mouthy girl to babbles is too hard to turn away from. he didn’t even mean to take it this far, he just doesn’t want to stop. he wants her to keep feeling good, and the way she begs and reaches back for him to bring him closer lets him know that he’s doing his job

“please, I can’t,” she begs, back arching but breath deepening. “ony, I caan’tt, m’gonna come,” she whines. she’s trying, really she promises she is, but it’s just become too hard to hold out. it’s too good, she wants it and needs it. if he doesn’t stop or give her the green light, she’s gonna make a mess of both of them, and she’s not going to regret it. ony groans at her whines, basking in the sound of her begging and pleading. he can feel how she’s clenching, hears the desperation in her voice. she’s gone, melting into a pile of goo at his touch, and he’s never felt more satisfied. not only are they both having the times of their lives, but that attitude is just about gone and she’s actually acting like she has some fucking manners.

he reluctantly pulls back and removes his hand from her, licking at his fingers like a man starved. “flip over,” he huffs, standing and palming his aching dick. she seems to be too out of it, raising her head full of messy curls to look up in his general direction. “w-what?” she questions. ony doesn’t have time for her shit, so he grabs her hips and flips her over his damn self. the way he looks down at her is downright sinful and crys flutters simply at the sight. “fuckin’ bratty ass. you did this to yourself, crys. was gonna take you on a nice ass date, make love with your pretty ass, do shit the right way. but that fuckin’ mouth of yours,” he grumbles as he grabs her by her ankles, pulling her to the end of the bed. “is too damn bold with me. gotta fix that, sweetheart. you gone be my good girl after tonight, I can promise you that.”

she whines and grinds against his hand as his thumb traces circles on her puffy clit. looking down at her, he realizes that this is one of his favorite sights now. her eyes are blurry with tears from the constant denial, her face scrunched in a cute and sexy pout of pleasure, her tits shifting with each movement. ony could watch her like this all day, bringing her to the edge over and over just to see those pretty tears fall and hear that voice of hers crack. that’d only be torture for himself as well because he feels like he’s about to burst. “you so damn beautiful. you want this dick, sweetheart? tell me, I’ll give it to you,” he murmurs, licking his lips as he lets his shorts fall. crys whines and nods, unruly curls all over the place. so damn breathtaking.

“gimme it, please. wanna come all over it, baby. paint it for you,” she begs. her arms reach to hook around the back of her knees, pulling her thighs back slightly to open up for him. her words only serve to rile him up more. “you a lil freak, huh? mmm, you can do better than that, baby. stretch them legs like I know yo lil freaky ass can,” he grumbles, pulling his underwear down and off, his cock hanging low between his legs. crys knew it— she just knew it was big, and she was right. it’s long and thick with a minimal curve, and if she wasn’t so deprived she’d get on her knees and pay him back for the teasing. she whimpers and bites her lip, sliding her hands to hook behind her knees instead. she pulls her thighs flush to her chest and keeps going, extending her legs.

“fuck, yeah, baby, show me that pretty pussy. fat pussy all mine,” he grumbles. he lessens their distance, letting himself rest on her as he takes her in. what a fucking vision of a woman. he takes his dick in his hand and lightly taps it against her before her rubs himself all in her wetness. “look at ‘chu, baby. so fuckin’ sloppy. this all for me?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks back to her face. she goes to speak, but ony considers her next words unimportant in the grand scheme of things. before she can speak, she feels him start to press into her. she lets out a breathy moan, her grip tightening on her legs. “f-fuck,” she moans at the same time ony lets a groaning “shiiit,” pass his lips.

the two pant, looking each other in the eyes as he continues to press forward. crys is seeing stars, feeling the stretch of him. her face scrunches and her eyes begin to close. “mm-mm, keep them pretty eyes on me,” ony‘s breathing heavy , his hand coming to lightly wrap around her throat. “sexy ass. you bet not deny me that shit.” crys can only lick her lips, forcing her eyes open to meet his, clenching at the way he speaks. his words add to the growing fire within her. “there you go, baby. love that shit,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press his lips against hers in a nasty, sloppy kiss. crys is upset at the fact that this man is really bringing her to her knees. “so damn fine. don’t know why I waited so long to be in yo shit. too fucking good,” he groans, pulling out just slightly before pushing back in. crys gasps, pulling her legs closer just to have something to grab, but it just makes him go deeper.

“feels so good, onyyy,” she moans, keeping the eye contact as much as she can. ony’s hovering over her now, watching her with his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyebrows together in concentration. he’s moving slowly, letting her adjust to him and just taking in the view in front of him. “onyyy,” she moans, clenching around him as her pussy flutters. he’s so damn fine and it’s been so long since she’s been touched. he’s deep in her shit and she’s on cloud nine. she wants more, so much more, and she wants it all from him. she hates it took so long to get to this point and hates that she the fact that she stopped herslef from persuing him. she wants this, needs all of him. “fuck me,” she chokes out. “c’mon, please.”

“relax,” he mutters, his free hand rubbing up her thigh. “just keep that pretty pussy open for me. I’ma always give you what you need, sweetheart. always.” and he means it. he’s never going to play with her, not her heart or her mind. but he’ll play with her pretty pussy until the sun comes up, until the cows come home. he’s never felt anything so good, seen someone so beautiful while they take his dick. she’s everything to him in this moment, her curls sprawled around her like the sun’s halo, face showing all the pleasure she’s feeling. her breathing is deep, her eyes staying on his just like he said.

he’s fucked. shit, he might just be in love.

“ooo, fuck, ony,” she keens, her nails slightly digging into the skin of her thigh. “so big. oh my God, baby.” she’s having the time of her life. he’s stretching her so well, and he feels so damn good digging into her like that. ”yeah, yeah. been waiting for thisss,” she pants, unable to keep her mouth shut. it’s just so good and it’s hitting that spot. would could blame her? “give it to me,” she moans. ony groans above her, his hips starting to meet hers sharper and sharper. she’s still so vocal, and he’s eating it the fuck up. “mhm,” he breathes, his hands moving to rest on hers, helping to hold her legs as she falters. “take that dick, babygirl. s’all for you. swear it is,” he groans. she doesn’t know it, but she could ask for just about anything right now and he’d give it to her.

her eyes scan over him, her hand reaching out to lightly scratch down his abdomen. “fuckin’ me so good, ony.”ony groans at the touch of her nails, his gut tightening at the way she’s looking up at him. he pulls out, reaching down to tap himself against her again. she’s too much, her voice, her eyes, her touch… the way she keeps clenching around him. “you fuckin’ dangerous, mama,” he pants. “can I beat this pussy up, baby? lemme take it.” crys bites her lip and nods, looking up at him in a way that makes him grip her thighs a little tighter. fucking minx. he’s beating himself up for not doing this sooner. he adjusts himself on the bed, leaning down to press his lips to hers as he slides back in, the two of them moaning into each other's mouths. he immediately picks up the pace as he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling slightly as he presses more of his weight onto her.

crys starts to gasp with each thrust, toes curling and a squeak escaping her when she feels his hands on her clit. “w-wait— fuck, wait, m’gonna come quick,” she moans, fingers gripping ony’s shoulders as he pins one of her thighs to her chest. she wants to come with him, but her earlier pleasure is coming back with a fucking vengeance. ony chuckles— actually chuckles, and rasps down to her, “that’s the point, sweetheart. give it to me.” if she wasn’t on the brink of a mind blowing orgasm, she’d be pissed and annoyed at that fucking smirk. but instead she pants and pants until her breath stops. her orgasm washes over her in delicious waves, and she’s just frozen in pleasure, unable to do anything but come and come, pulsing around ony.

“breathe, mama. come on, breath through that shit,” ony guides, pressing kisses up and down her neck. right, breathing. she forgot about that. crys lets out a long moan, her eyes rolling back as she tastes her sweet release. sweet isn’t even the word, though. the denial and delay just makes things ten times stronger, her orgasm wracking her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. she’s holding onto ony tightly as he talks her through it, breathing heavy as she just takes it. “yeaah, there you go. breathe, baby, I got you. gonna take real good care of you just like I said,” ony grumbles, nipping at her skin here and there and slowing his thrusts and his assault on her clit. he has to pant at the way she’s so tight around him, and he’s just so strained holding back good open release. “you deserve that shit, baby.” more kisses and nips than either of them can count are placed on crys’ neck as crys comes down and tries to calm down as well.

his hand reaches to gently caress her cheek as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the other. “you’re so beautiful, babygirl. you feel okay?” he asks softly. okay? she’s riding down a fucking rainbow of happiness and bliss. okay is an understatement. crys figures that would boost his who a bit too much, so she just tilts her head to rest on the side of his. “mhm,” she hums breathlessly. “so good,” she murmurs. ony’s glad, pressing more kisses to her sweet face. he’s happy he can make her feel good, especially considering how she was sarlier in the day. “good enough to gimme another one?” he asks. he just can’t get enough, so he has to ask. he wants this night to last as long as it can.

crys lets out a breath, wondering just what the hell is wrong with the man. she’s been through the wringer for a good while now. but it’s felt amazing every step of the way, so the answer is yes. of course it’s yes. she nods. “just one more, sweetheart,” he croons, looking down at her dazed face. he pulls out, turning her over onto her stomach, much gentler this time. he guides her on all fours and reaches to rest his hand on the headboard, his other hand positioning himself once again. once he begins to push inside, his arm wraps around her torso to hold her tight as they both moan. his hips start to move again, this time with a slower pace as he braces himself on the headboard.

ony can’t help but feel the shift on the room. it’s much more intimate than before, crys sensitive from one release already. he wants to be so many things for her. he can be a little aggressive, knowing she likes when he bites back. he can be goofy and unserious. and he can be soft. he can be serious with her and about her. that’s what he wants. “wanted this for so long, baby. wanted you,” he murmurs into her ear. the sound makes her pussy flutter, causing him to chuckle again. “sh-shut up,” she mumbles, her hands slowly tightening around the sheets below them. the combination of his intimate confession and his thrusting into her is a double whammy that she didn’t see coming.

“mmm, I’m serious babygirl. want you, been wantin’ you,” he presses, eyes falling shut as his hips continue to move. she feels so good, it’s ridiculous. he’s going to be in it every day if she lets him. “gotta make you mine, ma. I’m forreal.” and he is, because what kind of idiot would he be to let her slip through his fingers? crys let’s her head fall back in a moan as he starts to gently work her clit. everything about this is just insane. who knew what today was going to bring? “y-you never… ah,” she cuts herself off with a moan as he curves his hips, fucking her in just the right way in such an intimate moment. fuck, what was she saying? “I never said anything, I know. s’my fault, no excuse. I was just too busy enjoyin’ bein’ around you,” he murmurs, moaning as he holds her tighter. his hips are starting to move a bit faster and crys is starting to meet his every thrust.

“but you mine now, right? I’ma do— fuuuck, I’ma do right by you, mama. always,” he groans. he means every word. it’s like she has a spell on him and he doesn’t care. if she wants his heart, she can take it. he leans back from the headboard, sitting up on his knees as he keeps her back against his chest. gosh, crys’ heart just flutters. “yeah,” she moans. “yeah, ony, m’yours. f-finally.” that puts a tired smile on ony’s face, his already racing heart squeezing. with one hand massaging her clit and the other now on her hip, ony begins fucking into her faster. “that’s right, baby. and I’m yours. can’t get rid of me, can’t push me away, sure as fuck not scarin’ me away,” he groans. i’d important to him that she knows that, with her lil stubborn ass.

crys reaches back behind her, grabbing onto him. “yeah, j-just like that, ony. me and youuu,” she moans, feeling that familiar sensation again. her body’s almost tired of it after so much teasing and edging and repeating. “gonna come for you, baby,” she groans. she has no fight left, it’s going to rock her and she knows it. “you gonna come for me?” he asks, his voice coming out breathy as he continues to thrust into her. he doesn’t remember the last time he felt as good as he does in this moment. he doesn’t want it to end, but he can’t hold anymore. she’s tight around him, pulsing as her release approaches once again. “paint my dick, baby, just like you said. then I’ma give you this nut,” he huffs, working his hips more and more. crys is a moaning mess, her head dipping as she feels another strong orgasm approaching. “keep breathin’,” ony croons. “want you to feel all that shit, mama.”

she breathes as even as she can, breaths deepening as she quickly approaches that line. “ohhh, ony!” she cries out, her eyes squeezing shut. ” let it out, baby, give it to me. give me that shit,” he groans to her, working her clout faster and faster as he keeps pumping into her. it’s all too much and it brings her over the edge, her toes almost cramping and hips moving without her knowledge. “there it goes, keep breathing. fuck yeah, mama, take that shit.” it’s an intense feeling and she’s chasing it, breathing like ony directs and it makes the difference. she feels the shit down to her toes. her eyes are crossed and she can’t even fucking speak, just taking whatever comes as her eyes shut tight. “that’s it, baby, feel that shit. know you feel good, I know,” he pants.

ony’s fucking into her faster, the way she’s clenching around him making his head spin. his grip tightens on her hip as he chases his own high, watching her fucked out face. she looks so good like that, spent and satisfied and his. “fuuuck, you so gorgeous, crystal. gahdamn you feel good as fuck,” he rambles, praising her over and over just because he can and she deserves it. soon, he’s pulling out and pumping himself all over her ass, groaning as his body jerks. “yeah, ony,” crys coos with a raspy voice. she’s giving a tired wiggle of her hips, encouraging him to spill all over her. “fuckin’ perfect.”

the two pant, spent from such a lovely day together. it’s silent as they just back in the afterglow of their impromptu endeavors. eventually, ony starts to press sweet, calming kisses to her shoulder and back. he appreciates the small marks on her skin, random beauty marks and freckles. “perfect, mama. you were perfect,” he rasps. as far as he’s concerned, today couldn’t have been more successful. crys is… well, crys is out of commission at the moment. her mind is fuzzy in her post orgasm bliss, and she’s catching her breath as she basks in his kisses. “fuck…” she mumbles. that was very unexpected but completely welcome. the wait was more than worth it, and now she can have that again and again and again. “yeah,” ony chuckles tiredly. “yeah, that was crazy. damn.”

the two laugh together, gross and sticky, but so happy with the situation. that line was finally crossed, and there’s no going back. not that either of them would want to, anyway. ony glances down at crys as she rests for a moment, eyes closed and lashes tickling her skin. the earlier tensions are gone, nothing but fondness and connection in it’s wake. he reaches to caress her cheekbone, tucking a curl behind her ear and out of her face. “sorry for earlier,” crys mumbles into the quiet. she really is, she doesn’t like when she projects her upset like that. she nevers wants that for anyone she’s connecting with, especially not ony. he’s been understanding with her in a way that she’s learned to deeply appreciate. “but I’m glad we did this.”

ony hums, pressing another kiss to her shoulder. he can deal with a little push from her, especially since he gets to keep her. she’s a sweet girl, and she invigorates him. he appreciates her expressiveness and range of emotions, and understands that sometimes she’s just human. he’s okay with that. but now that they’re together, he has the ability to take a different approach. sometimes she needs him to snap back at her, and that’s what he’ll do with absolutely no hesitation from now on. there’s a mutual respect and understanding, and ony really fucks with that shit. “just needed some attention… and dick,” he murmurs. and he’ll give it to her whenever, wherever.

crys groans and starts to fuss, turning to weakly slap at his chest. “oh, shut up! go get me a damn towel!” here he goes saying some slick shit, right when the moment is good. he’s such an idiot sometimes, but it never fails to put a smile on her face. ony lets out a bellowing laugh, backing off of her and standing on his only slightly wobbling legs. he hopes she didn’t see that, but she’s already talking shit again. “yeah, pussy got you walkin’ crazy,” she sasses as he starts his trek to the bathroom, watching his sweaty but oh so fine figure walk away. ”better act right or you’ll never get it again,” she huffs. ony laughs again, shaking his head. “don’t make me start this shit all over, crystal,” he calls over his shoulder. she rolls her eyes but nuzzles her face into a pillow as she grumbles under her breath. she’s not scared, she’s just still recovering, is all. “yeah, that’s what I thought,” he laughs.

soon, they’re all cleaned up and on fresh sheets, crys refusing to sleep in the crusty bedspread after everything was said and done. they get into a spat about who gets to sleep on which side of the bed, and then over whether they should sleep with some time of light on. ony also demands to cuddle, but crystal fusses that she’ll get too hot and won’t be able to sleep. for that brief period, it’s war.

eventually, though, after bargains and begrudging compromises, crys is on her back on her usual side of the bed and ony is half-sprawled on top of her, head buried in her neck and hand softly rubbing her outer thigh. a random sitcom plays with no sound and the room is a nice, cool temperature with the fan blowing on the both of them. crys caresses ony’s back gently with her nails, eyes closed as she enjoys the weight of him on top of her. the pleasant feeling is like a weighted blanket, lulling her to sleep. ony is holding crys close, enjoying her warmth and presence. he’s taking full advantage of being able to cuddle with her. they fall asleep like this, wrapped up in each other, and wondering what the next day will bring.

hoooooly moooooly. this was not supposed to be this long. was hoping to post this sooner, but the words just kept coming omg. pls excuse any mistakes lmao. hope you like it! feedback welcome and wanted 🫶🏽

[coyle-and-co]

franco did always have such a mouth on him

au ramble beneath the cut because it’s my blog and i get to post what i want (it’s super long)

if ! you have noticed there are two versions of dolly that i draw, one with the gas mask and long, shaggy hair and one without and more refined

that’s because i have two separate aus for my ocs !! Howler and Gas mask Dolly are post!murkoff, which takes place with in the canon of outlast trials so not very exciting i know

pre!murkoff is where i get DEVIOUS because i am incredibly attached to pre!m Dolly HAHA

Pre!Murkoff dolly is a washed up speakeasy jazz singer preforming at one of the many casinos owned under Franco’s “business”, not like Dolly’s aware of who Franco really is outside of his moniker of “il Bambino”. He knows of him, knows his reputation but he’s never seen him before and doesn’t really give a shit about him as far as he’s concerned

However…! One night franco actually happens to be there at the same time as Dolly preforming, and he gets all googoo eyed because in his mind there’s a really pretty broad up on stage singing the blues to him, it’s not love at first sigh because all Franco wants to do his have Dolly put his heel through his throat

Of course, Franco can’t do anything normally and gets a bit pushy about getting dinner, and Dolly’s broke so thinks he could just steal his wallet or flirt him into paying his rent. Franco is unaware that he’s on a date with a dude, and is just happy someone seems interested

Franco does eventually find out Dolly’s not female and he’s mad about it but mostly that he didn’t figure it out. Despite the fact they can’t actually stand each other most of the time they’ve grown so used to being in each others presence that they don’t like being apart

Salvatore comes to visit Franco, since in this AU they do have connect it’s just minimal. Basically he got wind Franco’s been seen with the same “woman” (hah) repeatedly. Franco rightfully panics because oh my god what if his father finds out he’s seeing Dolly? What if he finds out Dolly’s a man? Franco blurts out that they’re getting married that’s why, and Sal just looks at him like he doesn’t believe him and tells Franco he pities Dolly

Franco convinces Dolly to actually marry him, but there’s no wedding, no reception, just a trip to the courthouse to sign a few documents. They’re legally married, and they hate each other

because i hate allowing gay people to be happy they do not say “i love you”, they argue day in and day out over things that wouldn’t matter, Dolly throws Franco out more times than he can count. But they know every fine detail about each other’s behavior and lives. Dolly even fully accepts Franco’s manchild-ness, though he does get disgruntled at times

Eventually it all leads to one massive argument and Franco calls things off and storms out, because we’ll, they don’t love each other, but those few days apart suck was and they can’t be away for long. Franco goes back to Dolly’s rundown apartment and lets himself in since he never did change the locks.

Dollys got no make up on, curled up in bed tear stained, and ends up sobbing at Franco about how he genuinely does care for him, can’t picture spending his life with someone else, how he wants to grow old together - but he doesn’t say i love you (they never do they both die and never utter i love you)

Franco blue screens for a bit but it does help their relationship at least somewhat

okay ramble over if u read all of this ily mwa mwa

[tempural]

hello. it might be an odd question or maybe, you've got it before. you prob did. but how did you find like-minded folks? as someone with specific tastes, i wonder if simply posting stuff is enough. and it's not even that i want friends. i just want to see different kinds of content and takes on things. which is why i tend to visit your blog from time to time. we don't even share ships, but you have your own vision and i respect that.

Hiya! Not odd at alll, trying to find artists, friends, and acquaintances is one of the big questions of social media. Especially if you're into very niche stuff (old man butthole).

Thanks for hanging out even if you don't have the exact same interests 😃 I find that's who I tend to follow... I like other people's passion in their interests! Whereas I'm usually one out of two people who have the same ship (the other one lives with me) haha.

Much yapping under the cut.

Honestly I mostly just post stuff. I don't browse social media much anymore ever since the tumblr nsfw ban 😭

The only place I actively look for artists now is the fediverse, especially cuz the server i'm on is explicitly kink and lgbtq friendly. So I almost never see like "freaks dni" sorta people on my timeline, which gives me massive diarheaa on every other socmed. Downside is of course the small size makes it so there's less posts to browse through, but sometimes staying small is nice.. you can talk to what people made the effort to post even if no one else is :)

Before the NSFW ban, I actually made my closest friend just by posting stuff! Way back in the DeviantArt days, I was the only one in the [band yaoi] tag, and another person happened to be browsing that niche tag with one thing in it. We started talking.. and now we are pregnant with 5 kids. So even if there's literally no one else in the tag but you, you can still find other people in that niche!

Makes me think of that story where those tumblr people got married cuz they were both in some niche self-ship tag...

A lot of the people I talk to now are from just posting stuff too. Not even just art, but even just yapping about random shit like dogs or ships or farming. I always wait for the other person to start a convo LMAO but other people seem to find connections by being proactive!

I also met some other like-minded people by joining art and fandom events, and hosting them! Some events are run better than others, some have a nicer crowd, and you might vibe with different people depending on the niches (i almost never do broad events with no subject, I do a lot better if you give me a subject like "chinese food" or "evil lesbians". I found a lot of cool artists that make OCs by hosting artcade, i found a lot of chill creative TF2 fans by hosting the Gore Zine and Gorl Scouts Zine.

Yeah it's scary to put yourself out there, cuz there's always hordes of unwashed basement dwellers waiting to jump on you for liking art of necromance or whatever. But it should be worth it to build up a lil net of art and writing to enjoy, and knowing that there's other people with similar interests out there...

Hope that gives you something to spring off of?

[werewolf-girlfriend]

ive been enabled so let me share some of my thoughts on how to get ur art noticed online

if u want Engagement on ur posts then i believe that its critical to make people care about ur art. the easiest way to do this is to appeal to something they already care about, like fandom, aesthetics/subculture, current events, having fun (people love humor!). a harder but perhaps more fulfilling route is to talk about ur own ocs and projects enough until people start caring about them too

theres an infinite amount of topics people care about out there so id suggest picking something u already care about urself and channel ur art energy there. trying to make art for the most popular things out there regardless own interests is an exercise in misery, id advise against it..! if im allowed to get superstitious for a moment, i do believe that even untrained eyes can tell whether a piece of art was fun to work on or a chore. and besides! if ur having fun then its easier to create more, and the more u create the more chances ull have at getting lucky and having a post seen :)

on a very related note, art is a way to communicate ideas so the quality of the idea being presented in a piece of art is paramount to how popular a post will be. what i mean by this is that technical skill isnt the primary determinant of a posts popularity. if all your posts are portraits of original characters then people will have a hard time connecting with your posts and theyll keep scrolling, even if those portraits are masterpieces! the major exception to this is probably other artists, who ive found usually have a greater appreciation for the technical side of art (we can only speculate as to why..!)

lemme finish by saying that making popular posts and being good at art are two entirely different skillsets, ive seen many incredibly skilled artists with jack shit for notes because they dont give people a reason to care about their stuff NOT TO MENTION its a huge game of luck whether a post will get seen. so dont go insane in pursuit of recognition!

(i dont want to make this post too long so ive included examples from my own art and their note counts with my analysis after the break)

hello and welcome to the extracurricular segment to this post :) i bring yall two pieces from my art blog @werewolf-artfriend:

here we have a portrait of my fursona that im still proud of and a sketch suggesting "what if sniffers (from minecraft) were the size of mountains?" (let it be noted that the sniffer sketch was posted right during the minecraft mob vote = peak interest in the subject of sniffers).

the portrait at the time of writing has a crisp 30 notes, whilst the sniffer sketch has over 2000 notes. from the same artist, on the same blog, posted only a few months apart. i believe this is a good example both of the power of a piece of art having an interesting idea at its core AND of a piece appealing to the interests of the masses

this is of course just two convenient example posts, but i have experienced fan art of popular topics getting thousands of notes a couple of times now, amidst my other furry shit that these days get around 200-300 notes in comparison

this may sound like a really long winded way of saying "fan art make the world go round" but i just want to point out the nuances that

1) it matters what u make fan art of: if a fandom is small or dormant (waiting on new canon content for example) then clearly less people will be excited about the fan art you make. dont expect 10k notes on ur post if the average recent post in the fandom gets around 200 etc etc

2) it doesnt have to be fan art! ive also had some of my bird art get thousands of notes because people simply like birds :) and this applies to ANY topic people care about! the world rly is your oyster on this one

anyway i think ive started rambling dhgdjhgd thanks if u read this far! i hope i got my point across! and if ur feeling down about ur art not being seen then just keep at it okay! keep creating and keep having fun! keep sharing ur ideas and perspectives with the world and ur audience will eventually find u! i love you!

[ruvviks]

KNOCKING ON YOUR DOOR AGGRESSIVELY. devereaux facts? please spare devereaux crumbs of lore?

HHEHEHEHE OF COURSE I AM ALWAYS SITTING ON A MOUNTAIN OF FACTS AND LORE

so his full name is aimé devereaux but always introduces himself by his last name because of his status as an assassin :] people who he's close with get to call him dev and if they're really lucky they get to learn his first name too :]

he used to run with the voodoo boys as one of their main netrunners and his job centered around corps! he would take gigs from various corporations and get on their good side while doing all their dirty work for them, in return for insider information which would come in handy for the gang in the future. this is how he ended up assigned to cassidy's case in 2076 when cassidy released a bunch of kang tao related scandals to the public; dev was hired by kang tao to take care of him but he failed to track cassidy down, which inevitably led to him ending up on kang tao's shit list as well

skip forward many MANY years and we've ended up in a new chapter all the way in 2084, where cassidy gets hired for a series of gigs by a mysterious client and he very soon learns there's a bunch of other assassins in town assigned to the same gigs as him. this includes marcus, @mojaves' latest chew toy (you can find art of him here!), who cassidy meets first and ends up working together with, and also dev, who meets the two of them a bit later when cassidy turns out to be one of the targets while also being a hired assassin himself. curious!!!! dev ends up teaming up with cassidy and marcus to get to the bottom of the situation >:^) if you're interested in the lore behind the mysterious client, i've written an article about it on the wiki :]

some more fun facts for you while we're here ^_^

dev is one of the very few netrunner ocs i have who has the actual large netrunner port cyberware on the back of his head! all my other netrunners have a much smaller variant that's positioned lower on the back of their neck, but dev has the whole thang :] it blends in with the rest of his cyberware on his neck, which is very heavy-duty plating in the shape of a cross

he got a lung replacement as a way to help with his asthma 😭 after the surgery he decided to get a bunch of fancy cyberware on his chest which makes it look like there's a large open cavity there (which is kind of the case but it's all for aesthetic. he takes his looks very seriously). if you're wondering: yes he gets a little freaky with it in bed that's the whole point

he is 1.73m tall

he is 38 years old in 2084! makes him a few years older than cassidy :]

no longer runs with the voodoo boys now but he never leaves people behind, so he would visit occasionally and help out with anything if they need it :] he does generally prefer to work alone nowadays but also values his connections with other people a Lot and he puts in a lot of work to keep up with their lives and all that

he's got cybernetic fangs ^_^ and yes he does also get freaky with those in bed

he smells really REALLY nice :] which is also why he can't really stay fully hidden while going after a target. you just know someone has been there

[tincansamurai]

fuck it, i'm cross postin the pifo oc monday posts here. but under a cut because i can't shut up. if you want to know stupid details about my ocs click here

here's the original post, ty to penbrydd for putting this together every week!

1. Were there any educators [x] bonded with or really liked? Tell us about them.

mat: matsuo took a CAD class in college with a professor who was very much on the cool young person end of the professor spectrum. there was a lot of chill-out time where students were just working on designs or hanging out while waiting for the laser cutter to finish, etc, and he got to talk to this professor way more casually than he had with any other educators before. they had a lot of shared interests, and it was nice to have someone who seemed to excited to see him. but like halfway through the semester he started feeling weird about it and switched to doing more of his work outside of the classroom. he's gonna look back at this after a couple of months of being out and wanna slap himself; like, you fuckin idiot you had a crush on him

kaz: first is his senior year hs english teacher. he didn't talk to her about all the shit he had going on but she could tell he was in a bad place, and she did a lot to encourage him to actually go to college and hype him up about the work he was doing. in college his archaeology 101 professor took a shine to him right away, and she ended up being his mentor throughout his time there, hooked him up with connections to digs looking for hands, had him be her TA for a couple of years, etc. unfortunately didn't make up for his shit grades in other courses, or the other various points of failure that've led him to working 2 shitty unrelated jobs

2. Does [x] usually see the same doctor (or other healthcare professional), or do they just see whoever's available, when they have a problem?

mat: he sees the same doctor, it's just easier to schedule that way. mat does his annual exams and gets all his shots like a good boy. he does lie about how much weed he smokes though

kaz: kaz literally only ever sees a doctor for emergencies/urgent care shit or std tests. he doesn't care who he sees, it's whoever is cheapest without insurance. he doesn't have a gp or do annuals or anything bc he feels fine and they're just gonna tell him to stop drinking, which isn't happening

3. Does [x] drink coffee? If so, how do they take it?

mat: yep, usually black. he likes dark strong coffee. someone should buy him an espresso machine. sometimes he gets a cappuccino or a latte if he's like hanging out with someone at a coffee shop, to have smth more substantial

kaz: yeah, he kind of likes shitty watered down drip coffee best, tbh

4. Has [x] had any memorable serious injuries?

mat: nope

kaz: broke his arm once as a dumb teen. don't drink and ride dirt bikes. lucky it was only his arm!

5. What's one time [x] has helped someone against their better judgement?

mat: just about any time he's had a group project for school or work, lol. mat wants shit to just be done, so he'll do extra work for no reward, even if he knows that's stupid and he should just speak up. even if he's doing the work for ppl he hates that he knows would never do shit for him.

kaz: one time he let a girl he was hooking up with stay at his and jaimie's place when she got kicked out by her roommates, even though he knew she was volatile and too into him. i mean, she was homeless, wtf, was he gonna not let her stay? lucky for him the only valuable item he owned was a shitty thinkpad, and a lot of his shirts look cooler with tears and burn marks. jaimie is still mad about this - she stole her fucking antique jewelry box!! he didn't even really like her!!!

6. Has [x] ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them?

mat: 100% had a week or two where he was miserably obsessing over actual gore videos in middle school. this probably made him worse. but also he was outside in the golden hour at a music festival in the woods on shrooms once, and the beauty of the light through the leaves probably made enough of an impact to fix that a little bit

kaz: kaz has seen so much awful shit, it would suck for everyone to list it all out. it does mostly steel his resolve to be good to other people and to never touch harder drugs tho so i guess good changes idk

7. What song reminds you of [x]?

you all know i go wild making playlists for these guys, there are so many songs... so i'll go with one recent as-of-yet-not-included-in-a-public-playlist song for each of them (that are both also a little bit about each other)

mat: leilani - the night

kaz: shame - human, for a minute

[toaverse]

I'll say this. I love Arcane, got into it after a mutual got into the show, then seaon 2 was.. something. I didn't hate it, but I didn't like it blindly. There's some elements I wish were explained better and some that just ruined season 1. The part with the hexgate connected that not only pollutes the undercity, but is also RIGGED TO EXPLODE IF THE HEXGATES GOES TO SHIT makes me think why the hell would Viktor approve this?! Season 1 Viktor would have never agreed to the Hexgates if the trade off is, at best, Zaun getting polluted, and at worst, getting it nuked off the face of the map (which thank god Caitlyn didn't figure that out cause if that crazy to go after Jinx using the gray, I feared what she do with a nuke.)

I have a fanfic in development that will follow mostly season 1 with OCs but adding and changing a lot of Season 2 canon to make it work better. Two examples I will give:

In the six months in between, Swain and his two other members of the triforce go to Piltover to demand Ambessa return and stop the dictatorship as not only is Swain the new Grand General, but that she and her daughter are under suspicion of the black rose due to Kinno (In my version, Swain killed Kinno as he's a member of the Black Rose). Ambessa tries to fight against it, but her soldiers have to follow Swain first and foremost. Swain is the head honcho. And if he says "Stop this bullshit and get back home" then so be it. Cait would object obviously, but Swain couldn't give two fucks about it and gives her a much needed reality check via bitch slap. And this is where I add the crow, cause the crow is associated with Swain and I figure He learn about it sometime, so Swain does spill to Caitlyn that ambessa was behind the memorial attack to get caitlyn on the war path due to Ambessa failing her own daughter so poorly (A post related to how Swain would not think highly of the Medardas explaisn it beautifully and I'll share it) . So now Caitlyn is emotionally humilated and realizes just how much she messed up and how used she was. Because of all this and with Swain, there is no giant Battle. Swain came in and just pulled the plug, and if ambessa still argues against it... he just kills her. Plain and fucking simple.

Black Rose and Mel. TBH, I wasn't a fan of Mel being an affair baby made to a weapon line. So I'm simplifying it to Le Blanc taking interest in Mel cause Kinno mentioned Mel by name and how she be a perfect member of the Black Rose. Rather than just, kidnapping her, Le Blanc grooms her. How could she groom her? This is where I will add the alternate way the bombing in the begnning goes... Viktor's connection to the hexcore somehow protects him, creating a shield that protects only him. I say that cause the shield literally pushes Jayce and Mel to opposite sides with various results. Jayce gets a bad head injury and injures his leg (not too much) while Mel... well. Salo dies in here so... Mel is the one who's lower spine is fucked to the point of getting paralyzed. Yes. I'm flat out making Mel disabled from the attack. This gives Ambessa the perfect oppertunity to remove Mel from the council as she can make the excuse of Mel needing time to recover and being in a delicate condition. The memorial attack was worse, as here, Elora dies and the attack leaves Mel with a worser injury. So Mel is powerless, friendless, watching her mother destroy her city while her surving relationship with Jayce falls apart (making it platonic here) leaving her utterly alone... perfect for LeBlanc to manipulate. Course Mel does rebel but it came at a high cost. That is all I'll share for now but I just want to say that as much as Arcane Season 2 was disappointing, I remember how the best works of art are birthed from Spite. The dome in Florence was created from spite. SO I will make my fanfic of Arcane from spite and love (now I just have to continue writing chapter 1 thought :,3 Thank you for allowing me to drabble.

Thank you for sharing this!

I love the addition of Swain and his no-nonsense attitude towards Ambessa and Cait! Love that shit!

I do have some things I personally would change/leave out, but I don't want to discourage you. Go for it!

Please send me the link once chapter 1 is out!

[opinated-user]

I find it funny how Lily just doubles down on the thing she’s accused of.

(Gets claims of racism) “I’m nOt RaCIst!!” (Drops a bleep where one can easily infer a racial slur is used as a “joke”. Says Japan is a backwards country while also shitting on its animation industry. Also makes OCs only one of two races white or black)

(Gets claims of fetishization) “i DON’t HAVE FETISHes mY stALkers MAKE STUFF UP!” (Says a white character would be more interesting black. Says Harley Quinn is defined by whatever relationship she’s in, how to fix that? Be in lesbian relationship from the first episode. All her LGBTQ relationships are just lesbians with one being black and the other white)

(Courtney comes out to say how Lily has had fantasies of incest) “I’vE NeVER HAD tHOSe, PlUS i’M a ViCTim and COURTNEY alLoWED it TO HaPPen!” (Has images of jokes that involve incest. Made a video defending incest. Makes incest connections even when none exist. And of course my favorite that even one of Lily’s audience members points out. The mod in Baulder’s Gate 2)

Now call me crazy but I think if I got accused of those I would keep my mouth shut and not do those things

at this point i'm firmly convinced that LO just can't help herself. she just opens her mouth and sounds come out. no thought behind them at all. just like impulsively changing the name of the channel and nothing else. just like when she lied about cancer and didn't bother to research the first thing before starting to spread misinformation about it. i don't even think that she believes herself to be smarter than everyone else, so even if people call her out she already thinks it doesn't matter. i believe she just doesn't think about anything beyond whatever short term satisfaction it can bring her.

[aquatic-hybrid]

✧ ── 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍.

Tagged By: @witchcraftandburialdirt

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have?

Interesting story with Akio's origin, when first starting the blog Akio was actually a collaboration between a very old friend of mine and me. I unfortunately haven't talked to them in a very long time, but the idea was to create a character that could grow to become a more "Hero" type character. At the time, there was quite the lot of OCs who had unique stories, but none of them really had any heroic bits to them. So during Akio's draft, I picked a bunch of my favorite characters to design his personally. The two main characters being Zack Fair from FF7 Crisis Core and Roxas from Kingdom Hearts 2 specifically, Makoto from Persona 3 was also the reason Akio is blue/ocean-themed. So over the course of the years, Akio became a character I am proud to have written. Plus, it gave me a chance to meet a lot of wonderful people!

is there anything you don’t like to write?

Nothing in particular comes to mind out off the top of my head that isn't just common things. Like sudden gore related scenes or scenarios that might be more sensitive to write about, I have written such things before, but it is better to have a proper talk beforehand.

is there anything you really enjoy writing?

Oh, I adore writing action scenes with Akio. It gives me a chance to express Akio's energy and skill in a multitude of ways, but while writing his own skills is fun by itself. I love to add references to other characters assisting him in other ways. It helps to solidify how the connections and friendships he has made helped him grow stronger.

how do you come up with headcanons?

Music is often my main factor when it comes to writing Akio, while I never really had the time to dedicate myself into drawing, I took it upon myself to better my writing instead. With the help of music and even some game scenes, it inspires me to add things to Akio's character and style.

do you write in silence or do you play music? 

I have specific tracks for Akio when I write him, a more casual scene can be written easier with the track [A seafarer's skills - Bravely Default 2]. While come combat oriented ones can be split between Akio's chaotic and heavily stylish combat with [Intervalo I theme - Limbus Company] and, surprisingly, the more serious fights or scenes with either [Chesed's Theme - Library of Ruina] or [It's Going Down Now - Persona 3 Relaod]

do you plan your replies or wing them?

I usually think out my replies, which can cause them to take a while to come out. Ironically, some of my best replies and short stories come when I let myself get lost to whatever I am listening to and just let Akio take over. Usually happens late at night.

do you enjoy shipping? 

Akio is canonically married to Asta [@halfliing-ormr] and he even has kids of his own with her.

But with the idea of shipping in general, I like pairing up Akio with other OCs or characters to see how the synergy works. While a Platonic bond is the main thing to go for, it also helps to bring out other sides of Akio that I usually don't delve on my own. Like a more in depth talk about his magic issues or his heroic tendencies, often bringing him trouble.

what’s your alias/name?  ━━ I go by DarkZexi online, so a variation of it can be an alias.

age? ━━ I am currently 27

birthday? ━━ Feb. 17, my birthday just passed, actually!

favorite color? ━━ Violet, but more specifically Furious Violet - #4e3076 because of Limbus Company

favorite song? ━━ As of right now, it is [Full Moon, Full Life - Persona 3 Reload]

But!! Honorable mentions have to be these three, otherwise i would be here all day with music I adore.

-Iron Lotus - Mili -Them Fightin' Words - Hylics -Quixotic - Lies of P

last movie you watched? ━━ I recently rewatched FF7 Advent Children! And holy shit what a memory trip that was.

last show you watched? ━━ I have no idea if podcasts count as shows, but if they do, it would be Distractable on Spotify. Actual top tier comedy podcast.

last song you listened to? ━━ I was actively switching songs while making this post. But the one I was listening before this was [Invisible - Duran Duran]

favorite food? ━━ Nothing beats a delicious Caldo de Res during the cold winter times.

favorite season? ━━ A big fan of Fall tbh

do you have a Tumblr best friend? ━━ I've met quite a lot of people in tumblr, but I will say the best one I've ever met is @halfliing-ormr cuss I love her, and she is my best friend.

Tagging: @thegoldentigress , @floraluniversal , @theplasmablade idk man I am seeing this post everywhere. So you are free to take it from here and tag me if you do!

[murderluv23]

Ed did a fantastic job as Striker this episode. Figured it wasn't Norman when he spoke cause his voice sounded so distinctly deeper. But he really had me convinced he was this dangerous cowboy assassin having a time torturing a rich asshole. His delivery was also on point. When Striker yelled at the little imp band, I laughed out loud. That shit was so funny.

Man, I missed Striker.

I seriously need his backstory. The way he was talking made it sound like there was people he deeply cared for but whatever happened to them scarred him enough to have all this festering hatred for the higher borns of Hell. There's so much to unpack and so much potential that it'd be a crime not to delve deeper. I need Striker backstory. I need it!

Stolas's line about Striker sucking his own dick was also golden. Laughed hard at that. Honestly, the humor in this episode was super solid.

And of course, super glad to finally see Andrealphus! Loved him the moment he spoke as I knew I would! Him saying he was trying to bullshit and Stella was ruining it was hilarious.

I also love the acknowledgement that Stella is as dumb as a brick, lmao. And Andrealphus is the one with all the wits between the siblings. Also interesting to see he dotes on Stella like many speculated. Like he's the classic evil sibling that spoils the other one instead of walking all over them- outside of stressing her stupidity, of course. I know he's going to be trouble later one way or another and I can't wait.

Whether these two become a power duo or he backstabs Stella or both- I'm here for it!

The way I am talking- you know I've already formed a youngest brother OC that shares the trait of being incredibly intelligent and poised (but does a better job than both) that Andrealphus dotes on and spoils even more than Stella, because he can actually connect with the little darling at full mental capacity instead of straining his brain every second- in my head. Cause I have no self control.

I'm getting Andrealphus praising him at every turn, spoiling him with gifts, and him being an asshole by reminding Stella where she sits intellectually in comparison by a large margin with the baby brother in question never not being in sync with his brother's thoughts while tag teaming the pity on their sister, you feel?

As you can see, these past two episodes have had such a welcoming presence with all the lack of you-know-what.

Wish we had more in depth confrontation with Millie and Moxxie vs Striker, though.

[robotslenderman]

Thinking of how I don't have enough vampires for Sydney by Night and @ryttu3k was talking about how they basically have AU versions of the same OCs and I'm like. fuck it. I'm probably going to do the same. I'll end up changing names and making new OCs as necessary to replace existing connections, but my Sydney vampires need to be populated dammit

I'm still not sure if I'm going to keep my headcanon as congruent as possible with @ryttu3k' and @nevertrustanoracle's, and work with their ideas, or just branch off entirely with my own AU.

If it's my own AU, then Sarrasine is dead, and the SI took over Sydney when the lockout laws happened, and Sydney's vampires have been clawing it back. They have no Prince due to the chaos. Slowly, they've been ejecting the SI and taking it back.

Sullivan Blackmoore -- inspired by his dynamic with his siblings + Alec Cross, I'm thinking his SbN version is one of four siblings (two brothers; not!Alec is Lasombra now whoops and two sisters) who were Embraced very close together and have a very close dynamic. With most vampires you can chip away at them and eventually turn them against each other; with this four, absolutely not. They were a unit back when they were fledglings and nothing can shake that. Of course, they don't let their enemies realise that; they frequently pretend to betray each other in order to flush out their enemies and destroy them. The four of them know that being typical Cainite backstabbers will not allow them to survive long even if they were interested in that; they know that power, true power, lies in unbreakable trust and faith in one another (though they'd all gag at how fluffy that sounds). Because of this, and their (mostly) good relationships with their own childer, they are a very real thorn in the side of the current Prince and many agree it's a matter of when, not if, one of them becomes Prince.

In an AU where Sarrasine is dead, one of them is right on the brink of claiming Praxis and the others keep threats in line by posing as rivals for the Princedom, constantly keeping the city in an eternal stalemate that never ends, allowing them all to hold power.

Wendy Taylor -- her equivalent is the childe of the Nosferatu Spymaster of Sydney. Much like Wendy, she's a prodigy, and she was one of the first Nosferatu in Sydney to start bugging and tracking phones. Unfortunately for her, she's not as powerful as she could be due to some of the major power players of Sydney being a herd of fucking Lasombra. Still, she has a reputation all across the country. She also spearheaded Sarrasine's efforts against the SI, despite her youth, and for amusement fucks with Abrams over in Canberra.

Oliver Stonecreek -- This version of him is orphaned; without his sire and father figure, Sydney!Oliver was forced to fight his childlike instincts and neurology in a way even LA!Oliver wasn't. He's still a Brit, but in this continuity after his predecessor's destruction, he was essentially forced to make a choice -- either step forward as Primogen and do what it takes to lead the local Tremere, or let his sire's enemies dismiss or destroy him. He chose the first. The child in him misses having a parent every night, but he's made himself grow up in order to take the responsibilities he has to. The loneliness of fighting his nature is very isolating.

Elisa Mulgrew -- Her equivalent and her sire/partner are two freelancers; she operates as a spy and a courier, her sire/partner often hires himself out as a merc or a bodyguard. They always travel together, though; her sire's abandoned his post more than once to stay with her.

And ofc my original Sydney by Night characters:

Samir -- The first-ever childe of Mithras; they barely remember each other, and Samir thinks, but isn't completely sure, that he's Mithras's childe, as his Embrace happened when Mithras was still a fledgling and went by another name, and he GTFO because he thought Mithras was weird as shit. Is a trans man. Actually ran into Roger de Camden during Roger's exile from Britain during WWII; Roger is pretty damn sure who he is. Samir is a Methuselah, but has largely squandered his powers in favour of spending most of his time hanging out with humans. Most people are unsure of what his true clan is as he is an accomplished Thaumaturgist but also spent a considerable amount of time learning Vicissitude.

Mariner Gangrel -- Mariner Gangrel who imprinted on a Lasombra Methuselah who succumbed to the call of the sea and has gone borderline Wight since then. Used to hang out a lot at the Great Barrier Reef but got sad at how humans fucked it up since he last visited. Aboriginal man who was Embraced decades before white settlers showed up when a Mariner Gangrel wandered out of the sea for a snack. (Provided this story is a respectful one, anyway; I know certain groups should never be made vampires so I may change this in time.)

Tilly -- A serial killer turned Salubri, her new powers of empathy make her angry-cry a lot, which just makes her angrier, which just makes her cry harder. She is determined to be her old psychopathic self and runs a Sabbat pack, and is frequently made fun of because of how badly she copes with her empathy.

Her sire -- "Some French arsehole" who occasionally turns up and asks Tilly if she's ready to redeem herself yet, and then fucks off again after she cusses him out. They're the only Salubri they both know.

Slimy Tremere -- Dude who totally pillaged a lot of Tremere artefacts after the destruction of S!Oliver's sire and how sells them on the black market, along with some of his own, some of which are fakes and some of which are not. Super dodgy and very sarcastic. The only reason he's still alive is because he also sells information to rival the Nosferatu, and also some people think he's too funny to kill.

Brujah Lawyer -- A Prince-wannabe who's finding the Lasombra group an enormous pain in the ass and is the only person who realises they don't actually hate each other as much as they pretend. He's a major candidate for Prince that most people back on account of hating the Lasombra, but the Lasombra make up for that in power, and he just can't beat the fuckers.

[deadcityhq]

CHARACTER NAME: steve harrington CHARACTER FACECLAIM: joe keery CHARACTER AGE/DOB (if relevant/they're not old af): april 22nd 1991 / 33 years old CHARACTER PRONOUNS/GENDER IDENTITY/SEXUALITY ETC: he/him, questioning but also avoiding it cismale ya know??? like. hes genderfluid but he hasnt fIGURED IT OUT YET OK / bi of sexual dumb of ass CHARACTER FANDOM (if relevant): stranger things OC OR CANON: canon CHARACTER TYPE (for example: werewolf, shadowhunter, warlock, demon etc): omg he's so human ok, specifically has been involved in supernatural/spoopy investigation since all the Fuckery that went down in hawkins all those years ago HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN NEW YORK/WHY ARE THEY THERE ETC: after hawkins he moved about/travelled a lot before finally settling in new york about 8 years ago now,,, IMPORTANT CHARACTER INFORMATION TO NOTE AND SHARE (this could be important headcanons for initial plotting, mini bios etc, supporting docs):

growing up as the only child to wealthy parents-- daniel & juliet harrington-- steve felt a lot of pressure to perform in life. to show his worth at every turn. to prove to his parents he was something. especially when they themselves had made such great strides in life. but in all honesty, steve always felt he fell short. he could never seem to get just the right grades to get their attention. he could never join enough clubs for them to be interested. steve learned early on, that to have his parents attention was a rarity. but that didn't stop him from trying.

and of course, this spread to other areas in his life too. it made him the centre of attention at school. king steve. the legend. being popular and well liked was all that mattered to steve. positive attention was everything he needed.

that began to change… all when he learned of some true, fucked up horrors of this world and finally started thinking of something other than himself. other than his need for attention.

adoration didn't mean shit when you had some creatures from the fucking upside down to deal with. in the years that followed up until around 19, steve was entirely focused on his hometown. on hawkins. on the people there, and trying to save it. which, well, it worked! eventually! after a lot of messy shit and fuck ups and tragedies. it wasn't easy, and none of them left it unharmed in some way or another. but somehow, they survived. even if steve did end up in hospital for a good two months after. but listen, he had to pull a hero move, ok???

steve came out of it changed. a different person. one that… wanted to do more with his life. he didn't want some shitty apartment in hawkins and a boring, soul sucking job. he didn't exactly want college either. so he settled for something… downright chaotic. coz he just couldn't stop. he connected up with all those creepy government guys to do with the upside down and they put him in touch with all the right people…

which is how he met artie. artie was… a whirlwind. a hunter from england. someone who swept steve up into her insane life of dealing with the downright fucked and creepy of this world. they travelled everywhere. and, yeah, maybe they developed feelings along the way. they couldn't help it, they matched each other's insanity and sarcastic shit, okay?? and yEAH,,, maybe when steve was around 22,,,, things hAPPENED,,, and-- look,, ava harrington is steve's absolute fucking world okay. he wouldn't change a thing. he adores her, and somehow, him and artie managed things for a good couple of years.

till artie was off on a trip with her family. dealing with some fucked up curse shit back home in england and… three weeks after she left, steve gets the call to say artie didn't make it. and he can't do it, he can't live in that apartment they'd been renting. he has to move out. he needs space to get his shit together and-- well. when a friend tells him about a job in NYC, he jumps at it.

and it just so happens that actually, it's the perfect place for him to start again, while still staying connected to all the supernatural, spooky shit of the world. it's like the city is a fucking hub for it. and it means ava has a solid place to grow up.

it's just been a leeeetle more chaotic than normal these past few months is all. but it's fine. TOTALLY FINE.

THREE AESTHETICS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR CHARACTER:

driving fast on an open road, friends crammed into the car and music playing loudly as the sun falls

busted knuckles and a bloody face from fighting hard for those you love

linking pinkie fingers with your best friend and swinging them as you walk

ADMIN ANDY APP.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Caught in the Middle - Chapter 1

Summary: Daryl Dixon finds himself head over heels for the new teacher at the local high school that he works at, but she has eyes for Negan.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), Daryl Dixon, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33634642/chapters/83581864

Warnings: Swearing, etc.

Notes: This is going to be another short story. I'm going to attempt to keep the chapters shorter so I can get through this story pretty fast. I was talking to a friend about something and this idea kind of came to me. I know it's kind of different, but I plan on switching POVs frequently so Daryl is not the main character of this story. There are three main characters. Negan, Daryl and Y/N. Hopefully you guys like it!

Y/N means your name or whatever name you want to put in there!

There weren’t a lot of things in the world that caught Daryl Dixon’s attention. For the most part, he had closed himself off in general. After the life he had growing up, he had become cold to things in the world. He’d get up, go to work, head home, sleep and then repeat. So, for someone to really catch his attention was a pretty big deal. Especially since Daryl wasn’t one for relationships or being attracted to people. Relationships were too much work and he just didn’t have the patience for them. Well, that was until someone new arrived at work. After that, it kind of changed everything for him. Which surprised the hell out of him, but he looked forward to every minute he got to spend with this new person.

Daryl was the auto shop teacher at the local high school. Was it a cool job? Fuck no. Was he good at it? Probably not as good as he could have been, but he was good at fixing things. When he was younger teaching was not something he would have ever pictured himself doing. Hell, he wasn’t exactly the most social person, so to say it was a struggle sometimes would be a massive understatement.  

When a friend offered him a job after an I owe you situation, Daryl quickly snagged that shit up. He would have been stupid to not take this job. With his background, he was lucky to have a job as it was. Every day, he would go to work and just do what he had to in order to get through the day. He never really got close to the other teachers, but he observed from afar. Watching people and learning things without being a part of them was something Daryl had become good at. The students liked him well enough, but it wasn’t like he was trying to make friends or be everyone’s favorite. He just did what he had to do and that was it. Going above and beyond was not Daryl’s style.  

A few months ago, a new teacher had transferred to their school and Daryl felt like they kind of immediately hit it off. They had literally run into each other in the hallway on her first day when she was lost. Daryl was coming out of his classroom looking at his phone and nearly knocked her over onto the floor. When he caught her, there was something about her smile that had caught his attention. When she had asked him for a tour of the school, he was eager to do it. Not that he was very good at it. Daryl was never a man of many words, but around Y/N he found himself opening up more and more. That was the nice thing about this girl. She made him step out of the box and be something more than he usually was.

Every day the two of them would find time to talk to each other and he relished in every moment of it. It became something where he started looking forward to going to work. He was excited to wake up every day. It was all because of her and the weekends were the worst because he didn’t actually get to see her. They texted each other, but the weekdays had become his favorite thing.

An overwhelmed breath fell from his throat when he looked over his shoulder after hearing the group of loud, boisterous laughter filling the bar that he was in. This was new for him. A lot of the teachers would get together some nights at the local bar to hang out. Of course, there were certain groups that liked to hang out more often than not. The source of the laughter stemmed from the staff favorite, Negan Smith. For some reason, every person seemed to love Negan. He always drew the attention of people and people found him hilarious. Daryl found him to be juvenile and somewhat annoying himself, but somehow, Negan was always the person people drifted to. Even being an asshole, all the students loved him as well as the teachers. Negan was the life of the party and very much the opposite of Daryl. Hell, Daryl didn’t even want to be here, but he was because he wanted to see Y/N. That’s really why he was there. It was the one time they would get together outside of work and Daryl loved being around her outside of a work setting.

Turning back toward the bar, Daryl reached out for the neck of his beer bottle and slid the bottle in front of him. It made him wonder if Y/N was actually coming tonight. Usually she would be here by now. When the laughter seemed to get louder, Daryl grumbled to himself and lowered his head. This wasn’t Daryl’s kind of scene and each moment he spent there proved that more and more.  

“Forget this,” Daryl got up from the stool and started pushing into his pockets to look for his money until he felt the sensation of someone nudging him.

“You leaving this early?” Y/N muttered when Daryl looked to her with his big blue eyes. A tiny grin expanded over his features and he immediately shook his head. Was he getting up to leave? Yes, but with her here he would reconsider that. Pulling out the stool beside him for her, Daryl felt his heart skip a beat in his chest when she moved in beside him. “Sorry I took so long. I got caught up at school checking some papers. I would have gotten it done earlier, but someone came to talk to me for a while so that kept there a little longer than I would have liked to have been there.”

“You finish everything then?” Daryl confirmed and she gave a nod before ordering herself a drink. Truthfully, he didn’t care why she was late. He was just happy to see her. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, it was pretty nice,” she answered with a simple shrug. “What about yourself?”

“Oh yeah, it was great,” Daryl lied and her eyebrows arched in curiosity when he said that. A nervous laugh fell from his throat and he shrugged.

“Oh really?” she chuckled, thanking the bartender when he came back with her drink.

“Okay, so it was just like every other day. Until now,” Daryl reached for his beer and swallowed down the last bit that was left in there. “Now that you’re here, it’s pretty great. You could brighten any mundane day for me Y/N. You know that.”

“You are so sweet,” she reached out to hook her arm around his shoulders to give him a hug and his face flushed over when she pulled away. “That was smooth. That was real smooth.”

“Well, that’s me. Mr. Smooth,” Daryl brushed his fingers through his hair to straighten it out. “But you are pretty cool. You’re the most interesting thing in this town. I tell you that.”

“And that’s why you’re my best friend here. Even if it’s not true, you are always saying things to make me smile,” she reached out to place her hand over his and she gave it a firm squeeze. “You’ve been the best to me since I transferred here. You’re the greatest. You know that?”

“Yeah?” Daryl was happy to hear that. At some point he was genuinely hoping the best friend label would progress into more, but right now he was okay with settling with that title. Just getting to be with her was more than enough right now. He didn’t want to push too hard or too fast. “I’m only saying what I believe Y/N.”

“We know I am so far from being the most interesting thing here,” she denied his statement while she took a sip of her drink that she had gotten. When the noise from the group in the back filled the bar again, they both looked back. The other teachers at the school were surrounding a pool table and Negan was obviously playing against one of the others. “You know, we should do that one day. Play a round of pool. I’m actually really good at it. We should do teams. You and I could go up against Simon and Negan.”

“Oh, yeah,” Daryl rolled his eyes, turning himself back toward the bar while she kept her eyes on the game that they were playing. “That’s really not my thing. Putting myself into the thick of that. I have no interest in being part of that group.”

“They aren’t so bad,” she suggested and Daryl looked to see to see that her focus was still locked on them. Looking over his shoulder, Daryl noticed that Negan had lifted his head and his eyes connected with hers. With an arrogant bob of his head and a bright smile, Negan gave Y/N a wink. Looking to Y/N after Negan did it, Daryl could see that it made her smile and her face flushed over. “I think you would enjoy yourself at times if you opened yourself up to it. The people at the school would really like you.”

“No one had interest in me before you were here and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t now either,” Daryl retorted with a snort when he looked back again to notice that Negan and Y/N were still staring at each other. Someone grabbed a hold of Negan to get his attention and Daryl felt his body tensing up over the moment he just witnessed. “They really aren’t that interesting Y/N. Plus, I’m not all that good at pool.”

“Well, I have a table at my home. One day you can come over and I could teach you some tricks,” she offered up, her eyes finally meeting his again. The air around them was cool and Daryl didn’t know if the chill filling his body was that or the jealousy of that stare between her and Negan.  

“That would be really cool. I’ve yet to be at your house yet you know,” Daryl reminded her and Y/N gave him a shifty look. “Well, I’ve dropped you off…”

“And I’ve asked you if you wanted to come in multiple times to hang out. Every time you turn me down,” she pointed out and he knew that he didn’t want to come in because he was afraid that he would do something stupid. It had been a long time since he was interested in someone. He didn’t want to make a mistake that made this girl leave his life forever. “You know you are welcome at my place any day. You at least know where I live. I don’t even know where you live.”

“Well, it’s not a nice place where I live,” Daryl explained with a frown knowing that he lived with his deadbeat brother. Most of the time Merle wasn’t there, but he didn’t want the one day she would come over to be one of the few times Merle came over. With his mouth, Daryl was sure that Merle would scare Y/N away forever. “It’s kind of a mess. You deserve to be in places better than that.”

“I don’t care what your place looks like. You’re my friend and I would like to spend time with you other than being here sometimes. You know that,” she professed with a shake of her head, reaching out to place her hand over his arm. “I’m not the kind of person that cares what your place looks like. I like you for you.”

“I think you’re the only person in the world that has ever said something like that to me,” Daryl confessed and he watched her roll her eyes. Obviously, she thought he was joking, but he wasn’t. That’s what was sad. No one had ever been as nice to him as she had been. How couldn’t he like this girl? She was one of the only people he had ever met that didn’t make him feel like a deadbeat or a waste of space. “You think I’m kidding?”

“Who wouldn’t like you Daryl?” she gave him a confused expression and he didn’t know how to answer that. “There is a lot of good to you.”

“The world never made me feel that way,” Daryl informed her with a weak smile before waving to order himself another drink.

“Well then the world needs to take another look. You need to throw yourself out there Daryl. You don’t have to be this loner for the rest of your life, you know?” she insisted with a shake of her head. “You deserve to be happy, just like everyone else.”

“Where did you come from?” Daryl sighed wishing like hell this girl would have dropped into his life sooner.

“You know where I came from,” she hesitantly laughed and then turned in her seat to look back at the rest of the group behind them again. “Truth be told Daryl; I like it here a lot more than I did at the old school I worked at. People here are more like family. They are friendlier. They don’t always seem like they are out to stab you in the back. People are willing to help and make you feel at home.”

“You must be talking to people I don’t know,” Daryl explained with a groan, turning on his seat to look at the crowded bar behind him.

“You don’t talk to people Daryl,” she replied with a silly glance and Daryl grunted while taking a sip of his beer. “You wouldn’t have even talked to me if I wouldn’t have run right into you on my first day here. It took me almost breaking something for you to actually talk to me.”

“Regardless,” Daryl knew what these people were like and he had no interest. No one really caught his attention or made it seem like they deserved his respect. In his opinion, most of the people at the school just liked the attention they could get. That was it. Noticing the way that Negan looked over his shoulder at stole another glance at Y/N made Daryl bite into his bottom lip. “Who did you talk to today after work?”

“What?” she muttered and Daryl could see that her attention was somewhere else and he frowned. Daryl reached out to nudge her arm and it took a second before she shook off to look over at him. “It was Negan. He’s funny. The two of us have been talking a bit over the last few weeks. The guy really likes to cook and he was bragging about his food about a month ago. Offered me some and every few days he is always bringing in things for me to try that he made. Today it was a raspberry danish that he made.”

“Oh, the guy is a good cook too, huh?” Daryl snorted, his eyes rolling when he thought about Negan and how everyone found the guy pretty much fucking perfect. Then again, he found himself super jealous at the idea of the two of them talking. Why had Y/N never mentioned the fact that her and Negan had been talking? “You know, you shouldn’t be taking food from strangers.”

“Oh come on,” she laughed, her eyebrows creasing with amusement when she gave her attention fully to Daryl. “Negan is not a stranger. I work with him and if something bad happened to me from the food, I’m not the only one he gives his food too.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re not,” Daryl scoffed at the idea, turning away in disgust from the rest of the people from work.

“What is it with you and Negan?” she pondered, sliding in beside Daryl elbowing him playfully while Daryl kept his head down.

“What is it with you and Negan?” Daryl repeated her question with an emphasis on the word you. His eyes narrowed and she stole another glance back over her shoulder at Negan.

“Okay, fine,” she let out a long exhale of air, lowering her head. It took a minute and she reached for her drink to quickly finish it off as if to gain courage to tell him what she wanted to say. “Since you’re you…I won’t lie to you, but you have to keep your mouth shut about it.”

Instead of saying anything, Daryl stared out at her with his confused blue eyes while her right hand spun in the air trying to come up with the right words to say, “I kind of have a crush on Negan. I know it’s silly since we’re adults and using that word is so juvenile, but I don’t know. I just find him so charming and he makes me laugh. When he smiles, I just find myself smiling, you know? Those dimples are gorgeous and he’s got a wicked sense of humor.”

“You are crushing on him?” Daryl restated what she had just said and she hushed him. Disappointment filled his entire body and his face felt exceedingly hot. An ache developed at the center of his chest and he had to pull his eyes away from her. It hurt way too much to even hear that from her. Especially since he had the biggest crush on her and yearned for more. Flicking his bar napkin aside, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Of course you like Negan. Everyone likes Negan.”

“What do you mean?” she tilted her head to the side noticing that Daryl no longer seemed to want to look at her. It made things a little uncomfortable because that wasn’t the reaction she thought she would get for being honest with her friend.

“I mean it makes sense that you would be like everyone else. Negan is the cool guy. The jock. The person that everyone drifts toward,” Daryl stated with a scoff hating that of all the people she liked, it was Negan. “I just thought you were a little more interesting than that.”

“Ouch,” she reached up to place her hand over the center of her chest, feigning like he hurt her with her words. “Where did that come from?”

“I just thought you were different than most people. Everyone sees Negan and their eyes just light up. He eats the attention up and people just attract to him like flies to bug zapper,” Daryl ranted hating that his jealousy was getting the better of him, but it was. “When I met you, I just thought you were someone who was attracted to something different. Like you said, you like people for who they are.”

“Just because I have a silly crush on someone doesn’t mean I’m not the same person that is your friend. You and I have gotten super close over the last few months. I think you know me better than anyone else does here,” she pointed out, hating to hear him saying the things that he was. “I just like the way that he makes me feel, you know?”

“And you’re attracted to him,” Daryl snorted knowing that there was no doubt that she was attracted to his looks by all the times he had caught her staring at Negan with heart eyes tonight. “You’re right…I know you better than anyone else here and I can promise you that you deserve better than Negan. No matter how much you love the fucking dimples.”

“Negan would never even look twice at me Daryl,” she talked down on herself and Daryl found himself upset that she would even do that. Talking illy of herself to bring up Negan made him just pissed off. “Look at him, he’s just so good looking and then there is me.”

“What was in this drink?” Daryl reached for her glass to look it over and he gave her a disgusted face when she said that. “You are fucking beautiful. I can’t believe you said that because you are absolutely gorgeous. Not only that, but you are super cool. Why wouldn’t someone like you? There is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

“Except for the fact that I crush on Negan which makes me just like everyone else,” she proclaimed, stating what he had said previously and it made him bite down on his bottom lip. Clearly it upset her that he compared her to everyone else just because she liked Negan.

“I’m just saying, with what I know about you I don’t think Negan would be your type. You take work seriously and Negan…I don’t think serious is even a word in his vocabulary,” Daryl complained about Negan knowing that he still was so upset that she was crushing on what he would consider the popular guy. God, life was still so much like high school and he hated it. He felt like a teenager instead of being a teacher that actually worked at a high school. “Like, he totally got fucking fired from this job a while back. You know that?”

“How?” her face wrinkled up in surprise when Daryl said that.

“It was like a year before his wife died,” Daryl clarified and he could see the sadness that flooded in over Y/N’s features when she heard him say that. “You didn’t know that his wife died?”

“No. No one ever mentioned that to me,” she answered honestly knowing that it wasn’t something a lot of people would open with so it made sense that she didn’t know about Negan’s late wife.  “What did she die from?”

“She got pancreatic cancer,” Daryl responded with frustration hating the way that she was looking at Negan now. Visibly it made her like Negan more and he damned himself for even saying it. “Him and his wife were at this bar one day. They got into an argument with a guy and Negan beat the fuck out of a guy here. The guy said something nasty to his wife, but he beat the guy almost to death. It was one of the student’s parents, so he ended up getting fired. Was on probation and everything. Then they found out about his wife being sick and dying. They felt bad for him and the community kind of got together to get him his job back to help take care of his wife. Who gets that fucking lucky, huh? Most people that almost beat someone to death don’t usually get people helping them like that. I can promise you when most people make mistakes, it follows them around for the rest of their lives.”

“Damn, he’s been through a lot then, hasn’t he?” she turned further in her chair to look back at Negan who was still playing a game of pool. “You wonder how he continues to be so positive and outgoing when he went through all of that.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Daryl groaned upon hearing her say that and he could see that the story upset her. Empathizing with Negan over that story made him so angry to hear that. That wasn’t the kind of response he was expecting her. When he told her that he almost beat a guy to death, he thought she would look down on Negan. “He beat the hell out of some guy Y/N.”

“You said the guy he beat said something nasty to his wife. He was defending his wife’s honor,” she filled in the details and Daryl let out a frustrated exhale. “If someone said something bad about someone that you cared about, wouldn’t you do the same?”

“That’s beside the point,” Daryl reached to grab a hold of Y/N’s wrists to get her to look at him. “When I was a kid I lived with my older brother and my dad. My dad was always so drunk that he never got up. We didn’t have food. My brother was always gone and I was starving. People knew what my family was like, but they saw trash when they looked at me. I stole food in order to survive because I had nothing. Do you know what happened to me? I didn’t get a slap on the wrists and told to be a good boy. That stuff stuck with me my whole life. I wasn’t that poor kid that lived in a bad situation, I was that awful little boy that was a thief. No one felt bad for me.”

“Well that makes those people terrible Daryl. You were a little boy that needed help and instead they turned their head away,” she reached out to wrap her fingers around his to give them a firm squeeze. “I think…we all have our own stories. You know? There are things that I’ve…gone through. Horrible things and we all wish there was someone there that could have saved us. You know?”

“What does that mean?” Daryl saw the way she swallowed down hard and he tried to reach out to touch her, but she held her hand up to keep him from doing so in that moment. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, I’m just saying,” she reflected the question and waved for the bartender to get her something else to drink. “Sometimes it’s nice to hear that people did what they did for Negan. I don’t usually have a lot of faith in the world, so when you hear that a community came together to help a man to help him care for his dying wife it makes you feel better about things.”

“Right,” Daryl stammered knowing that what she had just blown off made him think there were things about her that she didn’t tell him about. Now she wasn’t so much an open book, but someone who evidently had their secrets they kept to themselves. Daryl watched her toss back the drink she had gotten and he could see that their discussion had changed her a bit. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m going to go use the restroom,” she pointed over Daryl’s shoulder toward the ladies’ room and Daryl felt like he should say something to comfort her when she stood up. Something had changed in her beautiful features and he was just never very good at this stuff. With her getting ready to leave, he felt himself choking up at the idea of trying to make her feel better. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” Daryl didn’t know what the hell to say as she moved around him toward the bathroom. Tapping his hands against the top of the bar again, he tried to gather in his mind what he was going to say to her when she came back.

“Daryl!” a loud voice boomed in beside him as he felt the warmth of a body moving near him. Turning his head unhurriedly, he saw that Negan had slid in beside him and Negan’s bright smile ate up most of his face. “You are just the man I wanted to talk to.”

“Why?” Daryl scowled hating to hear a statement like that.

“How are you doing today buddy? Can I buy you a drink or something?” Negan offered attempting to call out to the bartender.

“I have a beer,” Daryl nodded toward his drink and Negan’s right eyebrow raised. Having Negan coming over to him and act like he wanted to speak to him felt weird. It certainly felt out of place. “What do you want Negan?”

“Wow. You’re a man that gets straight to the point, huh?” Negan snickered before calling over the bartender to get himself a drink. When he was done, Daryl cocked his head to the side almost waiting for Negan to speak up.

“Well, considering you’ve never had an interest in talking to me before you undoubtedly want something,” Daryl suggested making Negan’s eyes narrow out at him and Negan bit at his bottom lip. “So, what is it?”

“That’s kind of bullshit Daryl,” Negan retorted with a grunt, his eyes still hooked on Daryl’s when he reached for his drink that the bartender brought. “I’ve asked you plenty of times if you wanted to join us in a round of drinks back there or if you wanted to play some pool. You’re the one that always says no. I just assumed you wanted to stick to yourself and shit after about the fifth time of asking you.”

“Well that was a smart deduction. I’m surprised you came up with it,” Daryl snorted making Negan laugh in response after Daryl said that.

“Wow, look at the smartassery on you,” Negan seemed impressed with Daryl instead of being offended by what Daryl actually said. “Here I was thinking you were this quiet guy, but you’ve got some bite to you. I fucking like it Daryl. You should use that spicy ass attitude more often. Good for you man.”

There was nothing Daryl could say to respond to that, so instead Daryl found himself laughing as Negan reached out to pat Daryl on the back in delight, “Here I was thinking you would get fucking offended and leave me alone.”

“It takes a lot to offend me since I really don’t give a flying fuck what people think about me,” Negan assured Daryl with a wiggle of his brow. Reaching for his drink, Negan swallowed it down before slamming the glass down on top of the bar with a wince. “I actually wanted to talk to you about the new girl. I saw that the two of you were close. Are you dating? Or are you just like really good buds? Because honestly, I’m really fucking interested in her. I was thinking of letting her know I was interested, but if you two are together I don’t want to fuck that up. So I figured I would ask.”

All of Daryl wanted to tell Negan that he was dating her so that way that Daryl could have Y/N to himself. Turning away from Negan to reach for his beer, Daryl debated on what to say. God, he like Y/N so much, but at the same time he knew how much he cared about her. With her just admitting to Daryl that she had huge crush on Negan, Daryl found his heart tangled with what it should do. Taking a minute, Daryl’s eyes lifted toward the ladies’ restroom and he shook his head.

“We’re not dating,” Daryl was honest with Negan while shifting on the seat so he could look at Negan with his intense blue eyes. There was an excitement that flooded Negan’s face when Daryl said that and Daryl was damning himself for even attempting to be a good person in this situation. He wanted to be greedy. He wanted to be an asshole, but he knew that he really liked Y/N and her being happy was worth more than his own happiness. “In fact, I think if you were honest with her, she would be fucking thrilled.”

“Why is that?” Negan inquired with an arch of his thick eyebrow.

“Because she has the biggest crush on you,” Daryl told her secret, but he knew by telling Negan that would help her get something that made her happy in the end. The amusement that flooded Negan’s features made Daryl feel like the biggest loser on the planet. Instead of telling the woman he was in love with that he cared about her, he was telling the guy that she had a crush on that she liked him. Who the fuck did that? “I found that out tonight. So, there you go.”

“So, you’re okay with this?” Negan stammered with a bob of his head while speaking with a big, pearly white smile. When Daryl nodded he knew that Negan was pleased with his answer. Cussing to himself, Daryl hated him himself. So much. Why would he do that? A moment later he heard Negan let out an enthusiastic breath. “Well speak of the devil, look who it is! We were just talking about you.”

“Negan!” Daryl closed his eyes hearing the way that Y/N said Negan’s name. It was the sound of someone that was pleasantly surprised with their guest being there. “I hope it was only good things that you were talking about.”

“Is there any other way to talk about you?” Negan flirted and Daryl silently groaned to himself when Negan moved over to make room for Y/N back at the bar. Glancing beside him, Daryl could see that Negan was still rather close to her while they sat next to each other. “I was happy to see you walk in here. I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”

“Well, someone made me late to checking my tests,” she reminded Negan and Negan snorted upon hearing her say that. “If it wasn’t for that person, I may have been here sooner rather than later.”

“My fault,” Negan placed his hand over the center of his chest and their eyes were hooked on each other. “I was worried that maybe my danish made you feel sick.”

“Quite the opposite actually, I think it put me in a better mood today,” she complimented Negan and Daryl found himself irritated that he had now become the third wheel. Before Negan was there, she actually acknowledged his existence, but with Negan sitting beside her Daryl realized that he may as well had been invisible. “I was hoping you would be bringing me more tomorrow.”

“See, now you’re getting greedy,” Negan teased with a cock of his head and a big, goofy smile. Daryl watched Negan while he interacted with Y/N and Daryl wished he had half of the confidence along with charisma that Negan did. “I bring you something out of the kindness of my heart and now you’re going to start expecting it.”

“It’s a compliment really,” she smiled, caressing her fingers over the back of her neck in a nervous swipe while her and Negan went back and forth. “It says you did a really good job making it and I think you’re a fantastic baker slash cook.”

“Well thank you,” Negan chuckled while he looked her over with his hazel eyes. “If it means getting to see you smile if even for a few minutes every day, I will happily bring you anything that I make.”

“Since you’re so big on sharing you should let me try it someday,” Daryl finally spoke up when they both had seemed to forget that he was there. Negan’s smile slowly faded when his eyes pulled to Daryl’s. “I mean she was gushing about your cooking skills earlier today.”

“Absolutely Daryl, I’d loved for you to try my danish,” Negan replied with a smirk and in the moment Daryl realized how awkward the whole statement actually sounded. Y/N’s laughter filled the air and Negan looked to Y/N with an amused expression. “You’re a fucking perv missy.”

“I’m sorry, the way you just said that at him felt so suggestive,” she waved her hand in the air trying to get herself to stop laughing. Daryl was embarrassed, Negan was entertained. “You can’t tell me you didn’t say it like that to not be…suggestive as hell.”

“Daryl’s a decent looking fella, I wouldn’t be embarrassed to being suggestive with him,” Negan threw his hand up in the air and she laughed harder, her hand reaching out to place over Negan’s chest. God, she even wanted to touch Negan. When Daryl would make her laugh, she was nothing like this. “You think I’m joking? I’m not. I’m not embarrassed.”

“Well at least you’re bold and honest,” she claimed before finally looking to Daryl who seemed less than enthusiastic with everything that was going on. “Without being perverted, I think you would really like his actual danish. I was surprised it wasn’t store bought.”

“Hey now, it tastes better than the store stuff,” Negan grumbled under his breath and once again before Daryl could respond Negan had her full attention again. “You can’t compare my freshly baked goods to something you would buy at a supermarket that has been sitting there for days.”

“Oh, my mistake,” she giggled and Negan reached for her to give her a big hug in his arms after they had their playful little bickering match. God, Negan was so brave. It was something that Daryl would have never done, but she didn’t seem to hate it at all.

“Do y’all want to come over and play a game with us?” Negan pointed over toward the pool table and she looked to Daryl with big eyes. It was obvious she wanted to play, but Daryl was still at a point where he had no interest. Negan was already so much better than him at pretty much everything, he didn’t want Negan to outdo him in pool too. “We’d love to have you over there.”

“Go ahead, I’ll watch from here,” Daryl offered to her seeing that she seemed upset that Daryl didn’t want to come. “I’m kind of tired and I’m not much of a pool player. So I wouldn’t be that much fun anyways.”

“Well, why don’t you just come over there and talk with a few of the other teachers? You can be near the table while I absolutely destroy Y/N,” Negan urged Daryl to still join them and almost immediately Daryl shook his head. He didn’t want to be included in something where he would have to be up close watching the girl that he was head over heels for swooning over Negan.

“Daryl, come on,” she reached for his hands and Daryl shook his head once more. “You might actually have some fun.”

“I’m tired Y/N, you go ahead and have fun,” Daryl kept up with his answer knowing that she was disappointed, but he didn’t care. There was no changing his answer. Part of Daryl wished she would have just stayed, but when she got up from the seat, he knew that spending time with Negan was going to win out over spending time with him. “Just enjoy yourself.”

“Well you should come over there when you want,” she reached out to squeeze his shoulder before walking toward the pool table with Negan.

When they reached the other side of the bar Daryl could see the other teachers eager to talk and laugh with Y/N. For a while they just all stood around talking and Daryl knew that he was staring, but he didn’t care. Biting down on his bottom lip when Negan’s arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders, he let out an upset breath and knew he should have just left.

After a while of talking, Negan tugged Y/N toward the pool table and they started playing together. Daryl was full of jealousy watching their interaction. It was obvious the two of them had a fuck ton of chemistry together. She was having a lot of fun and it was so easy for Negan to make her laugh.

Even knowing that Negan was her type made it so much more obvious to Daryl that he would never be her type. Negan was the opposite of him and he knew that. Which hurt all the more. It was best for him to just leave at his point, he wouldn’t have even been missed if he left now.

Finishing up his last drink, Daryl went to leave until he watched Y/N throw her arms up in celebration when she clearly beat Negan. Watching closely, Daryl saw the look of disappointment over Negan’s features as he moved around the pool table toward her. How close Negan got to Y/N made Daryl’s heart start to hammer inside of his chest.

Daryl’s mind was telling him to go over there and stop the interaction, but his body was frozen while Negan’s eyes were hooked on hers. Negan’s fingers stroked over the side of her face, brushing her hair behind her ear while they talked. Negan whispered something and she nodded before Negan lowered down. Tensing up, Daryl watched Negan’s lips descend over hers after he cupped her face in his hands in a tender stroke and this shit hurt more than Daryl would have thought it would.

When they parted, Negan’s head pressed up against hers and Daryl could see that it took her breath away. Negan whispered something to her while his right hand lifted with his thumb tracing over her cheek. With a smile like that, Daryl knew that Negan was sweeping her off her feet.

Daryl stepped forward when Negan grabbed a hold of her hand and led her toward the back of the bar. The rest of the group was distracted with their own discussions so the two of them were able to sneak out. Following the direction they headed, Daryl went to the backdoor and pushed it slightly open to see that they were at the back of the building.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Negan slurred, while he had her back pressed up against the brick wall. His large hands were cupping her face as they kissed over and over again. Daryl watched the two of them through the small crack in the door that he had opened. It was enough not to draw attention to him while the two made out behind the bar. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

“Negan,” she breathed out while his kisses pressed down over the side of her face and down toward her neck. Grabbing a firm hold of his thick hair, she tugged at it and made Negan stare out at her with desperation while he panted. Daryl wished that she would turn him down. “Do you…do you want to go to my place?”

“Right now?” Negan breathed against her lips and she nodded slowly. The smile that Negan gave her made an angry chill run down Daryl’s spine. “I’d love to.”

Y/N reached for Negan’s hand and led him away from the bar making Daryl want to chase after them, but he knew better. She made her choice and she wanted Negan. Badly, obviously.

Slamming the door shut behind him, Daryl went back to the bar and took his seat again where he was previously. Ordering something a little stronger, he wanted to drink away his pain knowing that he was super hurt to see how eager Y/N was to take Negan home with her.

“Where did the big man go?” a voice made Daryl grunt when Simon slid in beside him and Daryl muttered a slew of silent, angry words to himself. Suddenly so many people he had no interest in speaking to were coming up to him to talk. It irritated Daryl to say the least. When Daryl immediately took back the drink he ordered, Simon let out a long drawn out laugh. “It’s only Thursday Dixon, you might want to hold back. There is one more day of work.”

“I don’t care,” Daryl grumbled with a scowl, his blue eyes glaring at Simon. “I assume you’re talking about Negan and you’re too late. He just left with Y/N.”

“Like, they left together?” Simon was eager to get details and Daryl nodded, waving on to get another drink brought to him. “Son of a bitch! I didn’t think she would give it up that fucking fast. I got more of an innocent vibe from her.”

“What are you trying to say?” Daryl’s face scrunched up and Simon ordered a drink for himself.

“I’m saying Negan is going to win the fucking bet, that’s what I’m saying,” Simon sneered when he got the beer that he ordered. “Goddamn it.”

“What bet?” Daryl immediately questioned seeing Simon dramatically throw his head around. There was a pressure in Daryl’s head and it felt like the world stopped all together when he heard Simon say that. “What bet?”

“I made a bet with Negan that he wouldn’t be able to sleep with the new girl,” Simon informed Daryl with a long, drawn out sigh. “And evidently, I’m fucking losing which fucking sucks.”

“You guys made a bet about Negan sleeping with Y/N?” Daryl snapped, standing up from the stool that he was seated at. “What the fuck? That’s an actual person you are talking about? Someone who likes Negan…”

“Every girl likes Negan,” Simon snorted, his face scrunched up in amusement when Daryl seemed so upset. “Like I’m supposed to be surprised by that. I just thought she was your girl so it was the one time I thought I would win the bet.”

“Negan told me that he was crushing on her,” Daryl repeated what Negan had said and Simon laughed with an entertained expression when he reached for his beer again. “What?”

“You think Negan would crush on her? After losing his wife, that guy would pretty much sleep with anyone to forget the pain of losing her,” Simon cleared his throat noticing how uncomfortable that Daryl was with all of this. “There is no way that he has something for this girl other than the bet. He’s out to win it and undoubtedly, he is going to nail it. I guess I should say be saying he’s going to be nailing her.”

“Fucking asshole,” Daryl knocked into Simon as he headed for the door to leave. He didn’t know what to do with this information, but he had to stop it. Someway. He couldn’t just let Y/N get hurt like this. Why did he have to be so stupid? He should have never told Negan that it would be okay. He should have tried harder to keep them apart. This was just as much his fault for pushing the two of them together and Daryl hated himself for that.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​​  @nubbinrobin​​ @oreostars​​  @fuckthis-and-fuckthat​​ @jennydehavilland​​ @felicity291​​ @de-gabyconamor​​ @ibelongtonegan​​ @smallsadjellyfish​ @labyrinthofheartagrams​​  @msjamesmarch​​ @thebeautysurrounds​​ @hotfornegan​​ @redmercysugar​​ @caprithebunny​​ @iluvneganandjamie​​ @ninamarietwd @tuttifuckinfruitty​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @a-girl-interupted​​​ @akumune​​ @stoneyggirl2​​ @xsarcasticwriterx​​ @ritajammer21​​ @insertneganhere​​ @haleygreen23​

[taetaespeaches]

“Don’t you dare.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 3.6K

a/n: Eeeek I’m so excited to finally be posting Min/Kid again!!!! A lot has happened since I last wrote for these two. You know, a shoulder surgery, release of BE, and a Grammy nomination just to list a few. Soooo all three of those are included in this. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading! :)) 

CHOPPING the celery, you hummed along with the acoustic melody resonating in the kitchen, the voices of your boyfriend and his members filling the space. The slow, sad tune was one of your favorites on the new album, but then again, you favored them all.

Looking down at your feet, you spotted the small fluffy dog staring up at you cutely. “I just wanna be happier,” you sang at the dog, “How about you, Holly?”

At hearing his name, he cocked his head at you, you smiling fondly. “Are you happy?” You continued your conversation with the pup in a tone that was higher pitched than your normal speaking voice. “What’s up? Do you want some celery?” You asked. “I don’t think you’ll like it much, bubs.”

You watched the dog for a moment longer before he got too excited, jumping up your leg causing you to giggle and relent. “Ok, ok,” you grinned, taking a small piece of the vegetable between your fingertips. Crouching down, you held it out for Holly to take, the dog carefully sniffing it. “I’m telling you, dude, you’re not gonna like it,” you told him just as he slowly grabbed the morsel from your fingers and dropped it to the floor. “Are you gonna eat it?” You questioned in surprise, both you and the dog too intrigued by the celery to notice the new kitchen visitor standing behind you.

“Is he eating celery?” Your boyfriend’s groggy voice suddenly sounded, you turning around in surprise and slight startlement.

“Shit, hi,” you greeted him, clutching your chest in fright, taking in his disheveled appearance as he had just woken up from a nap. “He’s considering,” you smiled before turning back to the dog. “I don’t think he’ll do it.”

“Holly, you’re not starving, buddy,” he told the little pup, a slight chuckle lacing the words. You listened as Yoongi’s feet shuffled closer to you, his hand suddenly finding its way to the back of your head, his fingers instantly slipping into your strands, lightly massaging your roots.

Taking his hand in yours, you brought it to your lips as you stood, leaving a light kiss to the back of it before trailing them down the bottom of his thumb and to his wrist. “How are you feeling, baby?” You asked him, the man giving you a soft close-mouthed grin that made his fluffy cheeks look even fuller.

“I feel fine,” he assured you, moving his hand in your grip to intertwine his fingers with your own as he leaned toward you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “You should have woken me up, Kid,” he whispered against your lips.

Your mouth curved upward as you shook your head, kissing him once more before stepping back from him and reluctantly separating your hand from his. “Absolutely not,” you said simply, Yoongi scoffing as he pulled his gaze from you to the dog, you following his eyes to see Holly propped up on your boyfriend’s legs. Cast to the side was the piece of celery, you giggling as Yoongi smiled in amusement.

“Do you want a real treat?” He asked the dog, you looking fondly at your boyfriend’s wide-eyed gaze as he addressed Holly in a cutesy voice. “I’ll give you a real one, none of this celery stuff,” he playfully teased you, shooting you a gummy grin.

“Hey, he asked for it,” you defended, crossing your arms over your ribcage as Yoongi made his way across the kitchen to the treat cupboard.

You observed him as he reached for a plastic container with a twist lid, however stalling when he realized it would be quite difficult to take off with one arm. Instead he reached for the bag of treats next to it, using his teeth to hold one end of the zip lock as he pulled it open.

“Here you go, Holly,” he handed the pup the treat, the dog wiggling excitedly before running off to munch in peace. “That’s why I’m his favorite,” he told you with a smug smile, your mouth opening in feigned surprise.  

“You think you’re Holly’s favorite?” You asked him, the man giving you a weak shrug, given one of his shoulders was out of commission. “Aw, Min,” you cooed. “When did you get so delusional, old man?”

Yoongi chuckled at you as he turned back to the bag of treats, a focus overtaking his face as he struggled to reseal it with one hand. Of course you felt for the man, having undergone a shoulder surgery in the recent weeks, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t amusing to watch him pout in frustration at a bag of dog treats. And you only became fonder when he finally sealed it, a quiet hum of satisfaction leaving his lips before turning to catch your gaze, you holding back a grin as his cheeks tinted pink.

“Everything is so much more difficult,” he whined in embarrassment, you allowing yourself to lightly laugh at his expense.

“You’re so cute though,” you complimented, the man grunting at the comment as he looked to the cutting board.

“What can I help with?” He asked you, you shooting him a glare.

“You can help by keeping me company,” you told him sternly. “Sit here and chat with me, I missed you today.”

Opening his mouth to contend your command, you held up your hand to him. “Don’t argue with me, I’ll stop helping you put your pants on,” you teased him, Yoongi letting out a silent laugh paired with his adorable gummy grin.

“That’s just cruel,” he joked back just before taking a seat across from you at the kitchen island. “Maybe I’ll just stop wearing pants then,” he suggested.

“Now who’s being cruel?” You questioned with a smirk, enjoying the amusement displayed on your boyfriend’s features. Picking the knife up, you continued chopping up vegetables as Yoongi watched you carefully. “How was therapy this morning?”

“I’m so tired,” he chuckled at himself as you pouted and cooed. “It was fine though,” he nodded.

“Good,” you grinned. “You better not be pushing yourself too hard,” you warned, Yoongi letting out a light laugh.

“I want to get back out there,” he noted, a small knowing smile forming on your lips. “I want to be ready to perform this album when we’re able,” he added, nodding to your phone as ‘Telepathy’ sounded through the speaker.

“And you will be ready,” you assured him, “as long as you pace yourself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teased, you trying to hold back your smile but failing. “Have you picked a favorite yet?” He asked, referring to your favorite track on his group’s new album.

“I’ve always had a favorite,” you told him as you started lightly grooving to the upbeat track.

“This one?” He asked in surprise, making you roll our eyes as you started dancing more and singing along. “Wow,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you just saying this to make me feel good since I’m all laid up?” He asked, you giggling at the question.

“You’re so annoying,” you told him through your chuckle, reaching for a piece of celery and lightly tossing it at him. The piece of vegetable made contact with his cheek and he pulled a dramatic expression of shock, his mouth open as he playfully gasped. “Of course I’m just saying that to make you feel good,” you teased, Yoongi laughing breathily as he popped the piece of celery into his mouth.

“Thank you anyway,” he smiled softly as you let out a breathy laugh. You both watched each other for a moment, your eyes traveling each other’s faces before your gazes connected, Yoongi only holding contact for a second until quickly averting his orbs to the countertop.

Smiling to yourself, you placed the knife to the stone, the sound of metal clinking against the hard surface piquing Yoongi’s interest enough for him to look at the blade. As you began walking around the counter toward your boyfriend, his eyes found your hips, dragging up your frame, landing on your grin.

“The song is amazing,” you assured him seriously. “And I think this might be my favorite of your guys’ albums.”

“Really?” He asked curiously, his eyes widened as he studied your expression, replaying the words in his head to scrutinize your tone. You simply nodded as you slotted yourself between his legs, your hand meeting the back of his neck as you lightly played with the ends of his dark brown hair.

“And speaking as a fan,” you told him, dipping your head to catch his eyes. “I know all the other fans loving it as well.”

Flashing you a honey boy smile as his cheeks tinted pink, you leaned down to press a sweet kiss to their plushness. “You did good, Honey Boy,” you complimented, a breathy chuckle sounding from the man as he relaxed in your touch, dropping his forehead to your sternum, leaving a light kiss to your chest through your shirt.

“Thank you,” he whispered shyly. He sometimes had a hard time vocalizing it, but your opinion meant everything to him.

Running your hands through the back of his hair, you shook your head. “Thank you,” you countered.

“For what?” He asked wrapping an arm around your waist, allowing his fingers to lightly trace indistinct patterns against your side.

“For inspiring me daily,” you told him, the man looking up at you with an expression of adorable surprise, making you smile and lean down to kiss his soft lips fondly. “With your talent and hard work and openness to express your vulnerabilities. I know there’s a lot of people out there who appreciate it, but don’t forget that I’m one of them,” you informed him, the man taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

Leaving a kiss to the tip of his nose, you trailed them up the bridge until your lips met his forehead, leaving a series of pecks against his warm skin. “What’s on your mind, Min?” You whispered before placing another kiss to his hair. Probably a lot. A major shoulder surgery, a new album, Grammy nominations coming, you were sure it was busy inside his head.

“How lucky I am to have you,” he revealed shyly but boldly, you nearly cooing instantly. “And how much I hate this fucking shoulder right now because I can’t just grab you and take you right here like I want to,” he partially joked. Oh jesus christ.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, lightly slapping his uninjured arm. “You know what? I’ve settled on what your three best skills are.”

“What are they?” He asked, pulling you the slightest bit closer as he smirked at you.

“Rapping, producing, and ruining cute moments,” you told him, the man immediately laughing as he pulled a feigned thinking face.

“Kind of thought rocking your world was gonna be one but I’ll take it,” he replied, you groaning as you pulled out of his grasp.

“Have I told you you’re annoying?” You teased, leaning toward him to steal a quick kiss before stepping away from him, the man slowly chasing after your lips as you backed away, reaching for you with his functional arm only to shoot you a pout when you returned to the other side of the island.

“Of course you have,” he smiled.

“Good,” you said simply, wearing a fond grin as you returned to cooking.

“You’re so cute in your pj’s,” you cooed as you helped button his top, preparing to get into bed. You had finished eating dinner earlier in the night and Yoongi had helped you with dishes by rinsing them with his one functional arm. “I should get a matching pair, how adorable would that be?” You teased, Yoongi shooting you a look of disgust. “What is that face? It would be cute,” you defended playfully, only for your boyfriend to hold the expression as if you committed an atrocity. “Stop it, don’t pretend like you hate the idea.”

“I do hate the idea,” he defended weakly, hiding a smile.

“Oh whatever, I know you, Min,” you reminded him with a glare, the man huffing as you giggled, securing the last button on his pajama top. “Ok,” you lightly patted the right side of his chest after securing the final button. “All done.”  

“Thanks,” he breathed out, watching as you reached for his shoulder brace. “I can put it on, Kid,” he told you, causing you to pause and stare at him. The two of you had been playfully fighting for weeks over taking care of him. The thing was, you both enjoyed you doting on the man a bit.

“I want to,” you pouted, Yoongi giving you a soft smile. Smirking in victory, you wiggled your hips happily just before you began placing his arm in the sling, Yoongi scoffing as he smiled.

As you adjusted the straps, ensuring his shoulder would be as comfortable and secure as possible, Yoongi watched you carefully. Fondly. When your eyes found his, catching him staring, he cleared his throat to play if off with an act of nonchalance.

“You know,” he started, determined to set your mind on something other than the fact that he had been staring at you with the softest smile you’d ever seen. “I’m beginning to get used to you waiting on me all the time,” he joked, you biting back a smile as you shook your head.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him, pulling up on the velcro to resituate the strap.

“What?” He feigned innocence, his eyes widened with his lips secured in a small pout. You allowed yourself to smile as you let out a forced scoff to cover your amusement.

“Don’t you dare get used to it,” you told him sternly as he laughed silently, thoroughly amused and smitten. “You know what, just for that you can tuck yourself into bed,” you teased, walking away from him, Yoongi looking at you in pretend shock.

“Kid,” he whined with a smile as he watched you crawl under the covers, leaving the grown man to fend for himself.

Opening your laptop, you kept your eyes in a glare as Yoongi shuffled to the bed, staring at you with a pout as you resisted the urge to smile. “Stop looking at me, Min,” you told him, your straight face breaking as he chuckled, you giggling as you pulled up the Grammys website.

Carefully but lacking grace, Yoongi crawled into bed next to you and looked over your shoulder at the screen. “What time are they announcing nominations?”

“Um,” you looked at the time, doing the math in your head. “Should be around 2 or 3 am, so a couple hours. Do you want to get some sleep and set an alarm? Or do you want to wait up?” You asked, looking at him, reading the nervousness in his features instantly.

A soft smile overtook your face as he breathed out slowly. “Uh, I think wait up,” he nodded to himself. “Yeah, wait up.”

“Ok, baby,” you nodded back. His eyes were glued to the screen, and more specifically the gramophone displayed in the top left corner. You knew he wanted this. It was the highest honor a musician could receive for their work, so of course the boys wanted that. And you couldn’t think of anyone more deserving. Even when you stripped back all of the hard work and hardships, the years of struggles for credibility and spotlight under a new company with no money, defying the odds and breaking through as a worldwide act, the music was still amazing. The music is what gave you the intuitive confidence to assure your boyfriend that he had nothing to worry about. “You’re going to get nominated,” you assured him sincerly. “I can feel it.”

“Yeah?” He asked, his eyes slowly leaving the screen to meet your face, his cheeks looking plush and kissable in the glow of the computer monitor.

“Yeah,” you nodded, reaching for his face, gently placing your palm to his cheek, simply because you just had to feel their fluffiness on your fingertips. “And if you don’t, I’ll start drafting a letter to the recording academy immediately to scold them for committing the biggest snub in Grammys history,” you joked. Your lame humor was met with a highly amused gummy grin and an adorable shy giggle as he turned his face into your hand to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Between me and Army, just imagine all the scathing articles the recording academy will be met with,” you added, Yoongi chuckling further, the sound of his laughter making your belly feel warm and content.

“Well hopefully we’re nominated,” he said through his light laughter. “For two reasons,” he clarified, you raising your eyebrows curiously. “You’re scary when mad and also that would be very embarrassing to have my girlfriend send a letter to the recording academy on my group’s behalf,” he laughed more, you joining him as your hand slid to the side of his neck.

“Well then, they better nominate you,” you agreed just as Holly jumped onto the bed, nuzzling next to yours and Yoongi’s legs, both of you shooting fond grins at the little pup. 

You weren’t sure what time it was but the grogginess in your mind told you it was much too early to be awake yet. So why were you?

“Kid,” a hushed whisper sounded next to you, you groaning in response. “Kid, wake up, baby,” the voice sounded again.

“Hmm?” You hummed, still too tired to peel your eyes open.

“We fell asleep,” Yoongi told you, you humming again. “Kid, the nominations have been announced.”

At that statement, your eyes popped open, your hazy gaze searching for Yoongi. Blinking the sleep away, you squinted at your boyfriend as your eyes adjusted to being open. His face coming into clarity in the early morning hours, you studied his features, preparing to either celebrate or console. With a racing heart, you watched as his lips curved into a massive gummy smile, and tears pricked your eyes instantly.

“Oh my god,” you whispered huskily.

“We’re nominated for a Grammy,” he told you, the words hitting you with the force of reality causing you to shoot up from the covers startling Holly as you did so, the dog looking at you in confusion. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you squealed, standing on your knees as you lightly bounced, trying to be careful not to create too much motion that you would hurt his shoulder, pumping your arms in the air gleefully. Holly jumped up, hopping against you for a moment. “Oh my god,” you screamed excitedly, Yoongi laughing as he let out a happy excited yell of his own. Holly leaped onto Yoongi’s lap, barking at the commotion, unaware that he was partaking in a celebration.  “Yoongi, oh my fucking god,” you yelled once more through Yoongi’s own excited squealing as he pet the dogs face giddily.

Showing you his phone, you skimmed through his group chat with the boys, the photo of the nomination taking center stage, the texts full of yells of excitement making you smile widely.  Another squeal left you as you dropped the phone and placed your hands to the sides of Yoongi’s face, Holly deciding to settle on your empty side of the bed next to you and Yoongi. “Baby, you’re nominated for a Grammy,” you told him, the words fully hitting Yoongi as it sunk in for the first time. You watched as his eyes became glassy, emotion overwhelming the man.

Crawling closer to your boyfriend, you placed yourself on his lap and wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, careful not to make contact with his recovering shoulder. Yoongi instantly rested his head against your shoulder and it didn’t take long to hear sniffles as he body shook, the man crying into the fabric of your pajama top.

“Oh, you did it, Min,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head a few times quickly as your fingers comfortingly toyed with his strands at the nape of his neck. “I’m so proud of you,” you spoke into his hair, the man’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you firmly against his side as he continued to cry.

The two of you sat like that for a moment, the only sounds coming from you both being his silent sobs and your occasional kisses to his head and the whispered compliment on how deserving he was. There’s a special kind of happiness you feel when the people you love achieve a certain level of happiness themselves. And well, Yoongi was really happy in that moment. And you loved him more than anyone.

Eventually, his tears slowed and he looked up to you, finding you smiling down at him with your own lash closed to the brink of overflowing emotion. “Not to brag but,” you stared playfully, “I did tell you that you’d be nominated,” you teased, Yoongi chuckling as he craned his neck uncomfortably to find your lips. Watching you be so happy and supportive of him, he couldn’t quite relay his gratitude for you through words. He needed to show you.

Happily, you kissed him back, the meeting full of passion and love. The kiss was an act of sharing and relaying pride and excitement and relief and thankfulness, and just all the intense emotions hitting you both in that moment. It was slow but meaningful, the kiss full of intent but frantic and messy. It was perfect.

When he pulled away just slightly, he took a shaky breath, letting out a single breathy laugh of disbelief. “The recording academy must have felt the energy of your threat,” he joked, you shaking your head with a fond smile.

“Nah uh,” you told him. “This was all you guys.” Yoongi took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you wiped under his eyes gently, ridding him of his tears. “You deserve this, Yoongi,” you assured him.

“I love you,” he told you as a soft honey boy smile graced his face.

Leaning down once again, you kissed his lips softly. “I love you too,” you whispered against his mouth. “My Grammy nominated Honey Boy,” you smiled, Yoongi chuckling as he connected his lips to yours once again.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Right Back Where You Started

Right Back Where You Started

[Masky/Timothy Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight blood, slight violence, language]

[AN: Four of my OC's are in here! This was also requested from a friend a while ago.]

The beauty about being able to live a life outside of murdering people and being at the whim of a monster that fancies itself as a god is a variety of your own accord.

For instance, you can wake up whenever you feel like, take a job wherever there’s openings, meet new people and not have to bash their brains in just for asking about your life and only need to pick up a blade to cut food or occasionally packages you impulsively bought on the nights that feel like too much and not enough all in one. You can breathe and not worry about inky black tendrils crushing your throat for doing so without his permission. You’re able to sleep at night knowing that no higher up in your group will attempt to kill you in an act of proxy related hazing. You can clear your mind temporarily of the thoughts of what may come next in trade for semi-normalcy even though you know those thoughts won’t go away anytime soon. The weight of what you’d done was too much to bear, and Atlas can only disappear for so long.

When you first decided to betray your boss, the tall man in the woods, the faerie that steals children away, you acted on impulse. It was an impulse that was born from being all too exhausted with risking your life, committing sin upon sin and other terrible, no good things that should ever be uttered. The decision you made on impulse had no foresight or planning, and when you decided to run, you ran as far and as hard as you could away from him. Away from them. Away from it all. Of course, you know there were going to be repercussions for running like so few others did.

The ire of the Slender Man being the worst.

Most days, you try not to think of him. There’s no point - well, maybe there is a healthy fear you still have - but to worry yourself into a stupor would be silly now. You’ve been free of him for a year. He hasn’t sent you any signs, nor has he sent anyone… Maybe you weren’t important enough to set him off like some of the others had.

These are the things you like to think about as you sit on your couch watching the late night news that’s barely audible as you scroll through your phone. You never really did like the total silence an empty house provides. There’s a simmer cup of tea on the coffee cup and a few snacks laid out that you have little plans of eating while you relax and enjoy the midsummer night. Outside, you can hear crickets sing and cicadas accompany them. It’s peaceful, and while your mind would like to think of it as such, you can’t ignore the ringing in the back of your head. Things have been pleasant, too pleasant. There’s bound to be a storm due to roll in.

Still, you try not to think of these things, and instead focus on the content that scrolls in and out of your vision. It’s nothing particularly interesting, but helps get your mind off the things that often keep you up. And you continue to sit there on the couch, wrapped up in a light blanket to combat your AC as the hours of the night tick by. Your mind is completely off of really, any higher cognitive thought, when you hear something. It’s soft, low, sounds like two, maybe three people and they’re out in the distance. Must just be stumbling onto the borders of your ‘farm’.

See, the funny thing about trying to integrate into normal human life is that you physically can’t. You can follow all their customs, get into their society, look like them, but you’ll never be fully human. You want to know why? Proxies can never go back to what they used to be. They’re forever changed, and no force on heaven of earth can ever get rid of that. He can take your memory and dump you on the side of the road, but your biology has forever been changed. In most cases, it’s a nice thing to have: faster healing, better pain tolerance, heightened senses, and a better sense of problem solving than most people. Other days, it’s a hindrance for reasons you can’t quite explain. Some call it Slender Sickness, and the only way to remedy it is to be under the tall man’s care.

Because you’re not, you’ve found other ways to remedy the sickness he inflicts on practically everything he touches. Pills. You find them in odd, strange places, but they get the job done. So long as you have them, you can be free of his grasp and his connection.

But goddamn, the hearing is mostly a hindrance. On the account of you living on the edge of a college town, you’ve got land and are surrounded by farmer’s fields. You heat it all- critters in the night, teens messing with the patches, arguments, sometimes crimes, and it keeps you up at night. That’s a downside to not having him in your life- he’s not there to dampen its effects when it becomes too much. However, in this specific instance, your heightened hearing is a blessing.

The feeling in your gut only furls together tighter as you hear the three strolling down your dirt road. They’re close, much too close. You know that they’re here for you.

Frantically, you jump off the couch and start to damage control by making the place look like no one inhabits it. The TV and lights are turned off, the mug emptied of its contents, snacks put away and other leads buried. Your heart pounds a mile a minute - you know that if he finds you, it’s all over.

He’ll kill you - the Slender Man is not known for his mercy.

You feel like a chicken with its head cut off as you look around the house for weapons before settling on the kitchen knife. It’s cliché and reminds you of someone you once heard whispers about, but it’s all you can think of in this moment. When you left this life, you left the physical parts of it as well. All your gear, weapons, they’re hidden in a place that’s too risky for you to even attempt getting. Armed with the kitchen knife, you debate running out the back or hiding, then running. You always were good at staying out of sight, hiding it is.

Your eyes dart to the basement door and you slip through right as you hear the three outside your front door. There’s a window that opens in the direction of the town. If you slip out of it, you’ll be able to get a good headtstart through the field. The moment you start booking it down the stairs, you hear your front door get blown open.

“Wallace, what do you think?” You hear a male’s voice ask.

“Someone’s been in here recently,” a deeper male voice responds - must be Wallace, eyeing over your living room.

In the darkness, you quietly maneuver the crowded, cluttered basement, mentally cursing you left your phone upstairs in your haste.

“It feels like someone’s been in here,” Wallace’s voice continues. You can practically hear him smelling the air. “Ruth, tell Nyein to sniff this one out.”

You hear boots scuff against your wooden floor and stop somewhere in the doorway. “You could always just ask them yourself,” the female voice identified as Ruth verbally shrugs. She clicks her tongue, and you hear even more steps. How many of these people are there? You hope it’s just four. That’s a well sized group, come to think of it. “Ny, can you please sniff this one out? Seems like they’ve done a good job at scent covering.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Don’t give us any attitude,” the first male voice hisses slightly. “Do what you’re told-”

“Theo,” Wallace sharply reprimands.

You hear Theo sigh right as you reach the window. You pray to whatever deity will have you that it won’t squeak or make any loud noises, but the thing hasn’t been opened in gods know how long. You use the blade to lightly cut through the layers of off-white paint before the window is free. You mentally smile before attempting to lift it.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Nyein got your scent. Their pupils dilate upon realizing you’re the one the Slender Man has requested alive. You hear someone rapidly padding to the basement.

Panic fills your veins as you struggle to get the window open, not even caring that it’s making all the noise in the world. You need to get out!

“She padlock this thing?” You hear Ruth ask before she grunts. The door can’t hold them back forever.

You frantically push up on the window - it's a quarter open, not near enough for you to slip through. Shit, shit, shit! You need to go NOW.

“Jesus- just break it already,” Wallace sighs.

A few more grunts and you hear the wood splinter. You hear them descending the steps quickly.

“There!” Theo points.

You hold your breath and push the window up with all your strength before hosting yourself up.

“Shit! Out the front! Ny, keep on her,” Wallace commands as he smacks Ruth and Theo’s shoulder, the two quickly following him up the stairs.

You begin to shimmy out the narrow window as the being called ‘Nyein’ eyes you down. You don’t think you’ve ever seen an independent like that before. They look absolutely feral, and the scent of you has them locked on your crawling form.

Their eyes narrow, teeth bared, and they quickly lunge across the space for you, right as your legs reach the windowsill.

You cry out in surprise as their clawed hand digs into your ankle, drawing blood you know you can’t afford to worry about.

“Get off!” You shout in retaliation, kicking at their face. Freed, you begin to sprint into the field.

Nyein snarls and crawls out the window as well, running after you with a speed that has you on edge. You continue to run. Behind you, you can hear the other three quickly gaining on you as well. How badly does the Slender Man want you? Your lungs light on fire as they chase you through the field. Soon, you’ll be hitting the small stretch of trees before you reach the town. With other people, you’ll have a better chance at being safe. But the stretch of woods is an awful mess of brush and loose soil. You can’t afford to misstep now.

You take in a deep breath as you hurl into the small stretch of trees, all too aware of the proxies and independent that are hot on your trail. In the back of your head, you can tell they’re tired of you. Good. They should be. You narrowly avoid twisted roots and piles of mud and grow closer and closer to other people.

It’s so close that you can almost touch it.

Lost in your thoughts and too tunnel visioned in on reaching the town, you fail to recognize the steel jaw trap in the darkness and send your shoe right on it. It clamps down, bites, and holds you. You screech and fall forward, careening into the forest floor. The pain in your leg is absolutely agonizing, and you claw at it in vain to free yourself as your pursuers close in on you.

“Gave us quite the chase, Reader,” Wallace says with a slight scowl as he crouches a healthy distance from you. “Should let you rot here,” he muses. You can’t see his face both from the darkness of the night and the fact he’s wearing a mask, but you can tell he’s upset.

“Or let Ny eat her. Been a while since they’ve last had anything,” Theo adds on, glaring at you through the eyeholes of his mask that’s the head of a pig.

“He said he wanted her alive,” Ruth chimes in, a sigh in her tone. “She’s already fucked herself up enough, let’s not rub salt in the wounds.”

“Put her to sleep then,” Wallace shrugs.

You look up at these people like a caged animal, your eyes narrowing and slightly watering at the pain of the steel jaw trap. You feel yourself inching closer and closer to the earth subconsciously as Nyein eyes you like a prize.

\ They reach their hand out to touch you before you smack them away. Their snarl, their eyes traveling down to your ankle where the blood smells the strongest.

“Do it before they eat her,” The deep voiced man says again. “Though, last I checked, Ny doesn’t eat proxies.”

“She’s a traitor, not a proxy,” Ruth lightly corrects, her gaze alone shushing you from making any noise.

Not wanting to work yourself up, you settle for cursing them under your breath.

Without any other words, Ruth comes up to you, resting her boot on your chest to keep you down. You attempt to grab at her leg, throw her off balance, but she’s stronger than you on account of still being an active proxy. Her dark eyes scan you up and down before she reaches into her back pocket. “Take a deep breath for me,” she murmurs before smacking the rag to your mouth and nose.

You flail about, screaming and cursing before reluctantly taking that breath.

“... Thank you, you’ve done well. Head out to - yes, that’s right, Theo - head there and I will give you further instruction.”

You blearily come to on the carpet of an office you hoped you’d never be back in. The smell of jasmine and incense hangs in the air. You hear a door shut and catch the boots of the people who brought you back to him leave the room. He must be sending them out to their next assignment; it’s probably some poor other bastard that won’t escape like you did. You take in a few timid breaths and allow the light to filter in.

There he is, your boss. He stands in front of you like a god. He has no face, but you can tell he’s more than upset.

“Miss Reader, what a pleasure,” he says in a deep, authoritarian tone.

On instinct, you feel yourself shrinking.

“Really?” He muses, inky black tendrils sprouting from his back. “You have the nerve to run from me, suppress me, and now you do this? You dare show your submission?” He hisses. The tendrils move like bolts of electricity as they wrap around your exhausted, terrified form.

You cringe as the tendrils take over every part of you, squeezing as if they’re threatening to break your bones if you so much as breathe out of turn. Tears well in your eyes as you remember the fear you used to feel rushing back and overloading your senses.

“You’re absolutely pathetic,” he spits as the tendril wrapped around your neck begins to constrict. You notice his body language bristle as he looks at you longer. “I could pop your eyeballs out of your sockets. I could tear you limb for limb,” the Slender Man continues like it’s nothing.

You feel nothing but malice radiate off his form. It’s heat that singes your very soul. “S-Sir,” you gasp out. “Why would you b-bring me here just to k-kill me?” You attempt to reason, eyes watering and vision going fuzzy. You weakly attempt to use your fingers as a barrier between the constrictor and you. You can’t take this low oxygen any longer - not with him physically inhibiting you.

A cold chuckle reverbates in your head while the vision of wolf’s teeth smile at you, as if they’re ready to snap. “You always were smart,” he notes, loosening his grip ever so slightly. “I could rip your head from your shoulders and it would make none of the difference.”

“Answer my observation,” you weakly cough out before he holds you tighter. You struggle to move your limbs. Your blood feels hot.

“Masky,” he suddenly calls out, hand gesturing to his office doors.

You’re barely able to move your head and settle on shifting your eyes instead to those large, oak doors as they open just a crack.In slips a man in a tan coat. He’s got dark hair, bags under his eyes, and he looks exhausted - more exhausted than you feel. He doesn’t look at you but instead focuses on the Slender Man.

“Sir,” he greets, bowing his head slightly in reverence.

The Slender Man hums, clearly pleased. You see the wolf’s jaws smile in your mind’s eye.

“Reader, you will be under his care now,” the Slender Man says. “If you successfully spend half a year at his side, I will reconsider tearing you apart.” He says it so nonchalantly that you feel chills run up and down your spine.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“Do you oppose me?” The Slender Man asks. “I am being more than generous, aren’t I?”

“Don’t take this offer for granted,” you hear Masky quietly add. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you can hear Masky telling you not to push him too far.

Hesitantly, you nod, voice too weak to say anything physically.

The Slender Man’s tendrils suddenly retract from you, sending you roughly to the carpeted floor.

You yelp as you come into contact with the carpet and slowly gather yourself as you try to push down the aches and pains that bloom on your joints and shins that hit the ground particularly hard. You cough a bit as air returns to your lungs and struggle to stand.

“Do what you must,” the Slender Man waves off, turning his back to both you and Masky.

Masky finally breaks from his stance and moves quickly to your side to help you up.

At first, you try to smack his hand away, but upon realizing you’re too weak to even see straight, accept his hand and his arm when you’re standing upright. He smells of cigarettes and some out of date cologne. It’s not bad.

The two of you hobble out of the Slender Man’s office with Masky’s eyes never leaving your form. After all, you are his responsibility now. He continues to lead you through a mansion you’ve grown to despise and out into the warm summer morning. The Slender Man could never imitate the beauty of earth to its entirety, that much was apparent.

“Where are we going?” You ask in a rough voice, attempting in vain to clear it by coughing.

“Stop that,” Masky sighs as the two of you cross the lawn. “To the parking lot, getting in the car, then driving across the border to Mississippi. We’ve got a temp there,” he murmurs. “You good?” He’s mentally wondering why your healing hasn’t damage controlled this yet. Probably the boss still being mad at you is the best reason he can come up with.

“Do I look like I’m good?” You dryly respond, eyes squinting slightly as the fog begins to kick up. You know you’re reaching the end of his reach. Once the fog clears up almost as quickly as it appeared, you realize the Slender Man’s practically kicked you both out of his realm. The walk was always longer when you truly were his. He must be severely pissed off at you. In a way, you’re lucky he didn’t kill you from the get go.

It’s best not to dwell on that thought though.

The rest of the walk is quiet and you’re in the car before you can count to 100 (your numbers are very jumbled though). You slide into the passenger seat and feel a little better at being able to rest.

Masky slides into the driver’s seat and sighs as he grips the wheel. “You have any questions, you ask them now in the car. I’m not putting up with your bullshit when we get to the temp.”

You roll your eyes and look out the window. “Who are you?”

“Masky, you heard him,” he’s pulling out of the parking lot and mentally thanking the gods he wasn’t killed alongside you. When the boss is in such a questionable mood, there’s no telling what’ll happen.

“You know damn well what I meant,” you cough slightly.

Masky scoffs before reaching into the backseat for a moment. His fingertips brush a water bottle, and upon realizing that’s what it is, grasps it and then tosses it to you.

You nod and take a sip, mentally frowning that the water’s been heated in the morning summer sun.

“I’m a group leader. Probably haven’t heard of us though, we’re not terribly monumental,” he begins as he flicks the turn signal on. “You’ve got three other people to watch out for. Hoodie, he’s the right hand, Toby, he’s essentially our middle child, and Kate. You’re replacing her and the hazing process will start up,” he finishes, now matching pace with the other cars that sparsely decorate the expressway.

You pout slightly and press your lips into a thin line as you gaze out the window at the rolling scenery. You’ve been here before. You’ve brought people back here this exact way before. They’re all unwanted memories. In response, your body language becomes unreadable.

This does not go unnoticed by Masky. “Yeah the attitude isn't gonna work,” he says as he glances over at you. “C’mon, you’ve been through this process before. We all have - what gives?”

With a sigh, you flick your eyes over to him to gauge his mood. He seems genuinely curious. “You do know that I ran away for a reason, right?”

Masky nods. “Sure, it was stupid though.” He takes a hand off the wheel for a moment to open his window. “What did you think would happen?” Sounds like he’s trying to pick at your brain.

“Anything but this,” you gesture angrily to your current situation. “I hoped to never see him again,” you groan, clearly frustrated. You chug some more water.

Masky breathes out slightly, as if he’s judging your answers. “Whatever. Forget about pulling something like that again because I’ll personally come after you if it comes to that,” he claims in a tone that’s far too serious.

You roll your eyes slightly, “sure, like you’ll-”

His eyes shift on the expressway, and after ensuring there’s no one that’ll cause a pile up on behalf of him, he hits the brakes, sending you lurching forward into the dashboard.

“What the hell?” You cry out in an exasperated tone, struggling to peel yourself up from the dashboard. You cry out in shock again as you feel his hand at the back of your head, successfully grinding your skull into the heated polyvinyl chloride.

“Get that thought of your fucking head,” he hisses, raising your head slightly before smacking it back down.

You growl back and relent. Once the pressure from his arm is gone, you shove him off of you. The car picks up pace again and you notice him wave to a person who passes by - they have a mildly concerned expression - and he smiles like he didn’t just slam your skull into PVC.

Welcome back to the proxy life.

You make it to Mississippi by mid afternoon. Masky brings the car down some dirt path where a house lays right on the Mississippi river, and you can smell traces of blood. They must’ve cleared the previous residents out.

There, on the porch in a muscle tee holding a can of coke is a man with his left cheek missing. He twitches slightly as he waves at you and Masky.

“T-This her?”

Masky nods.

“Can’t b-believe she g-g-gave Wallace’s g-g-group the s-slip,” he says in a slightly amused, slightly annoyed tone.

“Word travels that fast?” Masky replies with a slight chuckle.

The proxy before you nods with a small smile, “c’mon. I wanna g-g-get out of this h-heat. It’s a-a-awful out here,” he says with a playful grimace as he slowly rises from the front step where he had been sitting.

“Is Kate happy?” Masky asks as he watches Toby head in, then nods for you to go.

With a small frown, you do so. At least it’s air conditioned.

“Over the moon,” a feminine voice cuts in from the kitchen. She’s stirring a thing of lemonade.

Masky smiles slightly and takes a seat at the table. “We weren’t that bad,” Masky notes as Kate slides a glass of lemonade to the group leader.

She raises a brow at Toby who glances down to his open pop can. “So, this is the one he wanted alive for this term?” She questions as she glances at you, silently asking if you’d like some.

You mouth a ‘please’ before getting comfortable at the table.

“Weirdly, yeah,” Masky replies before taking a languid sip. “Thought he was gonna go for someone with more street cred, but, whatever. She’s our problem now,” he shrugs.

You look down into the pastel yellow liquid and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance. All of this, it was wrong. You hadn’t had to play by proxy rules in a year, and here you were, bottom of the rung, the runt. You hadn’t been a runt in gods know how long.

Conversation begins to flow between the three people around you as glasses of lemonade are poured. You sit in silence, listening because you know it’s not your place to speak. As far as proxy culture goes, you don’t really have any rights. Well, you’re in a better place than independents, but according to other proxies, you’re a glorified errand boy. They say to jump and you’re supposed to ask ‘how high?’ Your group’s word becomes gospel.

Apparently, Kate was this group’s runt before you came in. But, runts only stay runts for a certain amount of time. It’s possible for groups to not have runts - and that’s essentially what this group was doing. Kate had outgrown her runt status and was well considered the youngest (in experience) member of their group but had the same social standing as Toby. While it was a joke to refer to her as a runt, they hadn’t had one for a while.

That’s where you come in. You’re the first member to be considered a runt in quite some time. And you can tell they’ve been itching to take it out on someone.

“Where’s Hoodie?” Masky asks as his fingertips trace the lip of his glass. “Should be thrilled to see we’ve got another one.”

“Only t-thing holding h-him back from h-hurting you is the f-f-f-fact the O-Operator asked f-f-for us to t-take her,” Toby giggles slightly as he crushes another pop can. “He’s h-h-handling something, Should be c-c-coming back now, though.”

“Speak of the devil and the devil will appear,” you hear another man’s voice chuckle as the front door swings gently open.

Standing in the doorway holding a crowbar and wearing a white t-shirt is Hoodie - sans hoodie. It’s much too hot to be wearing one anyways. He haphazardly tosses the crowbar to the floor before closing the front door behind him, then begins walking towards the kitchen.

“This is her?” He asks as he takes a seat next to Masky, silently thanking Kate for the lemonade.

“Disappointing, right?” Kate lightly jokes, making Hoodie smile.

“In this form, sure,” Hoodie observes as his hazel eyes rake over your form. “She looks weak, scrawny, low endurance, probably forgot all her skills, what, with her being missing for a year?” He says it like it’s a game but looks at you like he despises you. “Not training her. Not my problem, and especially not in this heat.”

“She’s part of our group,” Masky replies in a slightly exasperated tone.

“No-Nose goes,” Toby suddenly blurts out.

Everyone presses their index to their nose except for Masky, who sighs dejectedly.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles. “Let’s go, Reader. You’ve been awfully quiet.” The brown haired man says in a less than pleased tone, picking his glass up and momentarily pausing to place it in the sink.

You quietly follow in suit, nodding to your other comrades before following him out.

The nice thing about waiting for Hoodie to stir things up was that it was the late afternoon. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, and a breeze was beginning to shift through the air. It wasn’t near as hot due the sun no longer beating down on you. Besides, it was nice to get out of the house for a bit.

Masky and his group must have been staying here for a while, because he walked into the woods on this deer path like it was nothing and led you to a clearing. There were a few training things, but nothing of any substance - just a temporary fix until they were somewhere more permanent. Proxies are nomadic, after all.

“You still have a knife on you?”

“I would’ve stabbed you with it.”

He shoots you a look as if to tell you to watch your mouth and you holds your hands up.

“I’m joking,” you defend. “When I meant I wanted to never look back, I truly, deep down to my bones, meant it.”

Masky’s hand goes to his belt loop where he takes out a knife. It’s… severely dulled. Looks like he doesn’t trust you just yet.

“See that dummy? Show me what you remember and I’ll decide if we’re out here until midnight or not.”

The dummy in question looks gods awful. It’s missing an arm, the stuffing is all over the grass, and the poor thing looks like it can’t support its own weight anymore. You wonder which one of your comrades got it to this state of if this was a group effort.

You narrow your eyes and get a hold of the blade in your grasp. It’s much nicer than a kitchen knife - reminds you of what you used to use when you were but a shadow in the night. You glance at him, then the dummy, and decide to get to work.

There’s no use in running. The Slender Man will hunt you down regardless, and he won’t be as merciful the second time around.

“Stop stalling,” Masky chides.

You take in a breath, and do as told.

To say six months passed with ease would be a lie. It’s been six months of hell - and that’s mostly because you’re a runt paired with the fact you never wanted to be back here to begin with.

It’s been strange, you’ll give it that. The proxy in you took over faster than the human side of you could and you integrated back into proxy culture and society far easier than anyone expected. Of course, there were some moments where your group members would ruffle your feathers and put you in your place, but that was expected. To be a proxy is to be put under fire until you prove yourself otherwise.

You’ve gone on operations with them. Took lives again. Stole things again. You settled back into the life you originally left behind as if you’d never departed to begin with. That’s how deep the proxy mindset and muscle memory is embedded into those it takes hold of. It sets itself out to be the only thing you’ll ever know. You live by it, you die by it.

So, where have you been for the past six months? Well, still in Mississippi. About two weeks after you first arrived with your new group, you and the group moved down south near the ocean and have been staying there the entire time. Luckily, this place was considered a temp house for the people who owned it - they liked spending time in Europe - which left this place as yours. Besides, the Slender Man likes having you close. He was able to periodically check in on you with you being a few hours away as opposed to days. Why he was so interested in you, you’ll never know.

According to both him, and Masky, you’d been making good progress. By the end of your six months (lovingly referred to as a “trial run” by your group), you were half way back to what you used to be. It was disheartening to only hear “half” but it was better than nothing. A part of you wonders why you’re so inclined to get better when you should be focusing on leaving.

It’s not like you didn’t try.

You tried so many times that your group started a tally board and whoever found you first got a mark under their name. Whoever hit five before the board was reset got the next operation (or operation of their choosing) off. For the first few weeks when you were but a stranger with them, the punishments were harsh and unforgiving, like they hate you to your core. But, as the months went on, they went from fists to phrases. Eventually, you stopped trying to run so they no longer had to beat you. Every time you got that far off look in your eye, someone would reprimand you. It’s probably because they cared about you.

That’s common for proxies, bonding with your teammates on a level outsiders can’t understand. It’s mostly to keep you safe while out in the field. And unfortunately for you, you’ve been feeling that way towards your group. You’ve covered for each one at least once, and that gesture doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re in a strange place, if you’re being honest.

Take for instance now, back in the passenger seat of a car and heading back to Rosswood with Masky (he told you his real name is Tim) to talk with the Slender Man face to face. While the others in your group have been keeping up with him regularly, you haven’t seen him in person since well, six months ago. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have butterflies in your stomach as you draw closer to the woods you once considered home.

“You nervous?” Masky hums as he turns the radio down.

“Yeah,” you reply, gazing out at the rolling fields again. “What if he-”

“It’d be stupid of him,” Masky cuts you off. “Six months of putting all this time and effort only to off you? Just… Just don’t say anything stupid,” he reminds you, a slight teasing tone lingering on his words. He looks at you with gentle eyes.

You scoff playfully. “Eyes on the road, weirdo.”

Standing in the Slender Man’s office this time as a welcome guest is weird. There’s still the scent of jasmine and incense, but there’s also something sweeter - like a memory he’s trying to provoke specifically for you. It’s warm, but not uncomfortably so, and it doesn’t feel near as suffocating as did that first time.

“You’ve certainly changed,” a deep voice says with an audible smile as it reverberates through your head.

“Sir,” you bow your head slightly.

“I’m going to make this short,” the Slender Man begins. “Miss Reader, I am satisfied with your progress these past six months.”

“Thank you, Sir,” both you and Masky reply.

The tall man hums. “However, you have only reached half of what you used to be. I believe the longer you stay in this group, the better you will become.”

You take in a sharp breath.

“Does that bother you?” The Slender Man doesn’t sound mad.

“I…”

Masky mentally clicks his tongue at you, and you glance over through the corner of your eye.

You decide to respond carefully. “I know normalcy… Sir, I don’t know if this life was ever meant for me, but,” you take in a deep breath and ball your fists to ground yourself. “If this is what you want of me, I will do it.”

The Slender Man chuckles. “Timothy, you’ve done an excellent job with this one. Perhaps I should have placed Pariah with you,” he emptily thinks aloud with another slight laugh. “I regret to inform you Miss Reader, that normalcy was never an option. You will go back with your team and you will continue to better yourself until I say otherwise.” He makes no move to stand from his desk, but his hands reach out.

Taking that as a nonverbal cue, you and Masky stand and each take a large hand.

The Slender Man’s fingers close around your much smaller hands before his hand leaves your grasp entirely. Instead of striking you, he gently cups your cheek. “Now go. I look forward to seeing you in six months.” The warmth is gone from his tone but lingers like doused coals in a still simmering fireplace.

“Thank you for your time,” Masky bows slightly, nodding for you to follow.

Without any other words, you nod to your boss and follow Masky out. The two of you trade silent conversation as you exit the mansion and back to the car. You slip in just like you did six months ago, and so too does Masky. The car comes to life, and you begin to peel out of the parking lot, back to Mississippi.

“How are you feeling?” Masky asks as he pulls down the sun visor after squinting at the beams of light.

“Not as bad as I thought,” you say in slight surprise. “Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“Or,” Masky begins. “You were always meant for this.”

You laugh in response and smack his shoulder lighter. “You know you’re not slick, right?” You tease as you stick your tongue out.

Masky chuckles deeply and gets back on the expressway. “I try when I can.”

“Oh really?” You pretend to be shocked. “Where was that smooth talking when I first met you?”

“Out the window because I just met you,” he retorts, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You are literally the worst,” you teasingly scoff.

“Right back at you,” Masky breathily laughs. His dark eyes stay focused on the road as

you get comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Really though,” you say as you stretch slightly. “Thanks for not killing me.” You look at him with such gentle eyes that he can’t help but smile just as genuinely in response.

Masky won’t lie, he was admittedly worried for you in the beginning. What with you running away all the time, speaking ill of literally everyone, almost getting everyone caught by the cops… You were colorful, for lack of better words. It’s been nice cultivating that into something better. Maybe you’d make something of yourself out of this garbage fire of a hiccup.

“It’s nothing,” he shrugs. “It’s my responsibility to watch out for you anyways,” he says as before honking at someone who almost swerved into your lane. “Besides, you’re not all too bad, and as long as it’s me making sure you don’t set shit on fire… Think we’ll be just fine.” He looks over at you and smiles warmly - it feels like the sun - before he turns back to the road.

You hum contentedly as your hand reaches for the radio. You turn up the music and let it play, a serene, comfortable silence falling between the two of you.