#I would ask if anyone lives near me and wants him but uh

[venacoeurva]

He has things to say and those are: ä

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Silently, they swap seats. It feels ridiculous, how perfectly the whole exchange goes, how no-one else stirs, how the RV glides smoothly with Eddie's hands on the wheel.

“What about, uh, the walkman?” he asks, tries to sound matter-of-fact. Time for a new plan, time to think.

“No,” Steve says. There's a finality to his tone. “Max should keep it.”

Eddie exhales. “Okay, okay. There's—here, there's a radio.” He doesn't mention the fact that he's closer; knows that his hand would shake if he tried to reach for it. “Be great if you'd develop an emotional attachment to, like, all of the Top 40 right now, Harrington.”

There's a soft sound that might almost be a laugh. Eddie listens to Steve quietly moving around then returning to his seat, hears the static of the radio being turned on—volume low, as if Steve doesn't want to wake anyone up. The thoughtfulness, even now, makes something in Eddie's chest hurt.

But there's nothing, not even a whisper of a song, and then even the static stops. Steve has turned the radio off.

One second.

“No signal,” Steve says, and even though he's not looking at him, Eddie knows he's shrugging again, like it is what it is.

The panic Eddie had briefly kept at bay while trying to strategize comes flooding back. “Jesus Christ, this—this can't be happening.” There's another long pause, and Eddie inhales shakily, remembers how he hadn't noticed when Chrissy fell silent. “Hey, man, you've gotta—keep talking to me, okay, or I'm gonna lose it.” Let me know you're still here. Please.

“Sorry,” Steve says. “Talking. Um.”

“Um,” Eddie parrots. “Wow. Didn't finishing school teach you conversation skills?”

Steve laughs again—hushed but real. “Fuck off.” He sighs, then says, “God, this might be a weird thing to say—”

“Colour me intrigued.”

“—but I'm so relieved, dude, you have no idea.”

“You're right. That's an extremely fucking weird thing to say.”

“I didn't want it to be Max,” Steve says, so heartfelt that Eddie tightens his grip on the wheel. “Didn't want it to be... anyone, you know? It's—yeah, it's better like this.”

“‘Better’ is a strong word for it.”

“Mm. Like, come on, what's the worst he could have in store for me? The summer our AC broke, that was pretty rough—”

“Don't,” Eddie says sharply, and all at once the joking tone they'd built up evaporates. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don't...” Eddie swallows. Recalls when he'd cut through the gym to get to Drama Club, how he'd glance over at Cheer Practice and think, They've all got it made, haven't they? Shiny fucking picture-perfect lives. “Don't bullshit me, all right?”

“...Okay.”

Eddie scoffs weakly, tries to regain the banter they were sharing. “Hey, if you can't be honest now, when can you?”

“Sure, that's—that's fair.” Steve shifts in his seat. “I was talking to Max, about the... when it happened to her. And she said she thought of happy memories, so. Got an idea of what to expect, at least.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, the mild tone only barely covering his anxiety. “Know what you're thinking about, then?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. He's smiling; Eddie can hear it. “Got a few things in mind.”

“Good, that's... that's good.”

The road is getting more familiar: it won't be long until they're nearing the Welcome to Hawkins sign.

“Kinda impressed with you, Munson. Was expecting you to drive like a bat out of hell.”

“Ha, ha. Special occasion, and all—”

A pained gasp cuts through the air, and Eddie's stomach lurches. “Shit, shit, Steve—”

“I'm fine,” Steve says quickly, “I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.”

“Tell me the fucking truth. Please.”

“It's just my head. Hurts a bit. Not a big deal, I've had worse.”

From the clipped way Steve is speaking, Eddie knows it's more painful than he's letting on.

He slows and brakes at a stop light before taking the chance to, finally, look over.

Steve is staring straight ahead, eyes in focus, and Eddie suppresses a sigh of relief at the sight. But then he sees how Steve's jaw is clenched.

“How's the clock?” he says cautiously. Prays for a miracle.

“Still there. It's closer. And, um...” Steve's mouth opens, closes, opens again. “I'm guessing the black widows on the dashboard aren’t actually...?”

God, he says it so easily. Eddie can't comprehend the bravery of it. “No, there’s nothing there,” he says.

“S'okay,” Steve says, “I'll just look at you.”

“I've been told I'm a sight for sore eyes,” Eddie says dryly.

“Oh, I’d believe that,” Steve returns, somehow both matching Eddie’s tone and sounding completely sincere. He turns to Eddie and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“This bit really isn’t so bad, Eddie,” Steve says gently. “Just some spooky pictures, really. That’s kids’ stuff. And you’re—you’re good company.” The light changes. Eddie looks away with reluctance, starts up the engine again. “I try my best,” he says lightly, and wonders how someone can be so close to… to… (he can’t say it; he won’t say it). So close to that, and still smile about it.

You’re incredible, Steve Harrington.

“Home sweet home,” Eddie murmurs as they pass the Welcome sign. “Hey, we made pretty good time, too.”

“I didn’t mean to be late,” Steve says nonsensically.

“What the—?”

“I didn’t, Dad, I didn’t. I’m not lying.”

There’s ice in Eddie’s veins. “No, no, no, stop—stay with me Steve,” he says, which is so fucking stupid, what, did he think he could solve this through sheer force of will? No matter how many times he begged, Chrissy never woke up.

But then Steve gasps, and it sounds like he did at Lover’s Lake, just before he got dragged back under. “Sorry, sorry. I’m still here.”

“Jesus. We’re—we’re here.” “We’re…? Right, yeah.” A deep breath. “Okay. New plan. My place first,” Steve says firmly. “We'll drop the kids off.” There's an unshakable resolve in his voice.

Eddie takes the next turning, doesn’t even enjoy the double take that Steve does at that, the fact that Eddie already knows his address. When he glances over, he sees beads of sweat on Steve’s face. Eddie speeds up.

Please, please. Just hold on.

[lvdr-haze]

SWEET

now playing :

genre : kind of an enemy to lovers

TW : a lil bit of angst, mention of dead peoples, alcohol consumption

this fic is kinda bad written but yeah lol.

english is not my first language !!

comments appreciated and requests open!! :)

Joost had always hated you. At first, you didn’t even know why, but then someone told you: Joost didn’t like you because of your "too active" behavior and because you were known for being somewhat insolent. He wasn't wrong, though.

Indeed, when you were in public places with your friends, you were active and often perceived as insolent or arrogant. Whenever your friends had a conflict, they would call you to intervene because they knew you had a great rejoinder.

It honestly pissed you off that people saw you this way. You were so much more than that.

Today, you had invited your friends to a home party. Every guest could bring an additional person, and you hoped to get along with all of them.

After you finished doing your makeup and outfit, the doorbell rang. You went to open it, welcoming your friend. The last guests arrived an hour later. You and your friends had already had a bit to drink, but not enough to feel completely tipsy. You got up and opened the door with a smile, but when you saw Apson’s guest, your smile slightly faded. You had been friends with Apson for a long time, and he knew you didn’t get along with Joost, so why would he bring him? Anyway, you welcomed both of them and let them in.

While you were preparing some drinks, Apson came into the kitchen and said:

"Listen, Y/N, I know you and Joost can’t really stand each other, but he’s had a really hard time lately, especially today. Can you please make sure he has a good time?"

You felt bad knowing that, and of course, since you weren’t as mean as Joost thought, you agreed to make everything right for him today. You nodded to Apson and went back to the living room with new drinks.

Some chill music was playing on the TV while everyone was chatting. The party was good, and everyone seemed to be getting along well. You felt proud because you and Joost hadn’t fought yet. In fact, Joost was staying to himself and was kind of surprised at how calm and sweet you were at home. But he didn’t talk to you or anyone else, just smiling at some jokes sometimes. You could tell he wasn’t feeling well.

Suddenly, he got up and came to you to ask:

"Uh, could you tell me where I can have a smoke, please?"

His voice was lower than usual, and his eyes seemed tired.

"Yeah, sure, just here on the balcony," you said, opening the glass door.

He thanked you and went out, lighting up a cigarette. You went back to the living room and drank with your friends. Time was passing, and Joost wasn’t coming back, so you decided to check on him. You opened the door and began to ask, "Is everything alr—" but stopped mid-sentence when you realized Joost was crying heavily. You went to him and, not knowing how to react, hugged him. He had to admit it was the sweetest hug he had ever had. He held you tightly and cried in your arms.

"Hey…everything will be alright���shhh…stop crying…”

You always had a caring instinct, and Joost could feel it. His sobbing stopped, and he looked up at you.

"Fuck…I’m sorry for acting like a child…I shouldn’t be crying right now…I’m sorry…"

You sat near him and smiled.

"No, Joost, you can cry if you feel like it, it’s okay. Do you want to tell me what is going on?"

Joost couldn’t stop being shocked by your sweet and calm attitude, wondering how he could have hated you for so long.

"I miss my parents…so, so much."

His voice was trembling again. You knew Joost’s parents were dead because Apson had told you. You hugged him again.

"I’m sure your parents are proud of you, Joost. You’re such a good person, always spreading joy everywhere you go, always caring for your friends, and you’re also such a hard-working guy. I know it’s probably hard without them, but they wouldn’t like to see you in this state, even though it’s totally normal to cry because you miss them…"

You were caressing his hair while telling him the most reassuring things. Joost nodded and got up.

"Thanks a lot, Y/N. I would have never expected so much sweetness from you…"

You smiled.

"No need to thank me."

You both went back to the party. Everyone was trying to figure out what had happened while you two were gone, but you said it wasn’t important, and the party continued. Joost was clearly more into it now, talking, laughing, and singing along to the songs on the TV. You could tell he was feeling better, and you were happy for him.

At the end of the party, some of your friends went home, but some asked if they could sleep over. You, of course, accepted. Apson chose to take the guest room, quickly joined by Stuntje. Two of your other friends decided to sleep on the couch, and you didn’t even realize Joost hadn’t had the chance to choose where to sleep. While you were preparing everything for your friends to sleep, he shyly came to you and asked:

"Um…where can I sleep?"

You realized there wasn’t much space for him on the couch or in the guest room, so you kindly said he could sleep in your room.

"Are you sure? I won’t bother you?"

You laughed slightly and said he wouldn’t bother you.

Once everyone was asleep, you and Joost finally went to your room. You went to the bathroom to put on your pajamas and then got under the covers to rejoin Joost.

"Thanks again for your kind words…"

"I already said you didn’t have to thank me, Joost," you said, looking at each other. For a minute, you couldn’t take your eyes off his ocean-blue eyes, but Joost broke the silence by asking:

"Can I…kiss you?"

Your eyes widened a bit, but you slightly nodded. You felt his lips against yours, and you began to kiss slowly. It was the most comforting kiss you had ever had. You felt butterflies in your stomach, wondering what the hell was happening to you. The kiss ended, and Joost brought your head to his chest, playing with your hair.

"Damn, I never thought I’d kiss you one day…" he said with a smile, making you laugh a little.

"Neither did I…"

"Well, I don’t regret it…"

You straightened up, turned to him, and gave him a peck on the lips. You both smiled.

"I’ll never regret it," you replied before resting your head on his chest. You turned off the bedside lamp.

"Good night, Joost."

"Good night, lieverd."

He kissed your forehead. You both felt so comfortable that you wished this moment could last forever.

[exceptional-z]

zed necrodopolis x reader

this is an au where zombies were never allowed to go to human high school. so zed is aged up (though age is never mentioned so you can imagine whatever) but has never been on the other side of the barrier. i attempted not to use gendered language but i tend to write with fem!reader in mind.

also please ignore any inconsistent verb tenses. english is not my first language and verb tenses are literally the bane of my existence. + i wrote this in like an hour

your family didn’t have much money growing up, hence why you lived so close to the gate. real estate was cheap since no one wanted to live near the zombies. but it also meant you learnt how to save money in as many ways as you could.

seabrook was all about perfection. if a mattress was two years old, it was time to throw it out and buy a new one. if a bike had a single scratch, it was thrown into the dumpster. all of the old items deemed as ‘garbage’ were brought to a warehouse that was emptied around every two weeks. and this was your favourite place to be.

you sneak into the warehouse. it’s late at night and there’s never any security around. you’re immediately greeted with piles of furniture and clothing and trinkets that are too unique to fit into the seabrook aesthetic.

you start to rummage through with the plastic gloves you always wear just in case any bugs or mice decide that this is a perfect place to burrow. lost in thought, you don’t hear the creaky door open, but you do hear the sudden shout that erupted from behind you.

your heart nearly stops beating at the sudden noise and your head swivels around. the lighting isn’t great, and you can only make out the vague shape of the person blocking your only exit. he looks fairly lanky, and if you squint you could make out some of his features. he doesn’t look much older than you and he certainly doesn’t scream “imposing”. he’s taller than you, but maybe if you caught him off guard you could knock him out with one of the many heavy objects splayed around you.

“i was told no one ever came in here,” the boy says. fuck, his voice is attractive.

“they don’t. in the three years i’ve been doing this i’ve never run into anyone else.” you answer, obviously suspicious.

“i’m uh- i’m just looking for a gift for my little sister,” he explains, “it’s her birthday soon and she said she wanted a new bike but we can’t really afford it.”

you relax a little at his explanation, sharing that you’d gotten into the habit of coming here to rummage for things since your family also doesn’t have much money. “i could help you look if you’d like? and even if we can’t find a bike, there’s a ton of cool stuff you can find if you’re willing to dig.” you offer.

you can’t be sure, but you think he smiles as he answers. “i’ll take any help i can get. my friend eliza told me to try coming here to look, but honestly, i’m a bit overwhelmed.”

you talk and laugh together for what must be at least two hours. you don’t end up finding a bike, but you find an old cheerleader outfit that looks to be in perfect condition. you can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out unless it just didn’t fit anymore. the boy -who still doesn’t have a name- literally jumped up in joy when he saw you holding the skirt from the set, doing a little celebratory dance that should have been embarrassing but was somehow endearing. (that’s how you figured out his little sister was obsessed with cheer).

eventually you have to part ways; it’s getting into the early hours of the morning and you both need to be getting home. he’s halfway down the street when you realise you never shared names and you yell out, “wait!”

he stops and turns around, and you jog to catch up to him.

“what’s your name, stranger?” you ask, “just in case we run into each other again.”

he tells you his name is zed, and you tell him your name in return. for a few seconds the both of you just stand in the street, memorising each other’s faces until you look away, shaking off the thoughts of how attractive he is under the starlight.

(bonus: when zed gets home, all he can think about is you. he wonders if eliza would recognise your name, or if he would possibly run into you if he chose to go to school for once instead of always skipping. he wonders where you live in zombietown, since he doesn’t recognise you and is sure he would remember seeing someone as gorgeous are you. he spends the next few days wondering, and then is in for the shock of his life when he sees you through the fence that blocks off zombietown from seabrook and learns that you’re human.)

[superluver]

Happy Hands G.S.

Pairing: teen!Gojo Satoru x teenFEM!Reader

wc: 1154 | cw: CURSING, shoko smoking, Satoru being super annoying, reader beats up satoru, fem!reader, reader has the patience of a philosopher, crackfic, vomiting, NOT PROOFREAD PER USUAL 😋😋

Description: Satoru is annoying the living shit out of you, so you beat him up

(Someone submit something for me to write 😔)

“DUH DUH DUH DUHHHHH,” you make the beat of the song in front of the two.

Shoko stares at you with furrowed eyebrows, thinking hard. Chewing her cigarette, she waves her hand.

“Wait- wait, do it again.”

“Like everyone knows this song!— Or at least the person that made this song." You shout at her. Suguru snaps his fingers, your heart skips a beat, someone finally got it—

“Happy birthday.” He says with full confidence, then leans back in his seat with a smile. What he doesn’t expect is for you to punch his desk, causing it to explode. The wood scatters around the room like a mini bomb went off.

The screeches of his chair sliding on the ground fill the room as he backs from you.

“It was obviously Michael Jackson.” A voice from the door rolls his eyes. Satoru, in all his glory. He goes to sit down beside Shoko, but you kick his seat before he could take a seat.

“You weren’t playing.” You tell him dryly.

Shoko feels shivers crawl up her back. It’s not that you’re stronger than Gojo. No way, in combat he would 100% win. But, it’s just that your family is known to break infinity.

Cursed hands, family born with seals on their hands. Much like the inumaki clan, the (l/n) clan their own powerful seal.

“(N/n)?! Are you still mad at me, seriously?!” He pouts, dragging his seat back to his desk.

You clench your fists, staring down at him but not saying anything.

Shoko thinks three punches, and it’ll go down. Suguru thinks one if he can rile you up real good: One to break, another for the punch.

That’s what he was trying to do anyway. Yesterday, Satoru put cockroaches in your closet to get you angry enough to destroy his infinity because you refused to reason with him at 10:00 in the evening. But you didn’t get mad at him. No, mad wouldn’t even describe how you were feeling.

It was pure rage.

But you didn’t take it out on him. Instead, you went into Shoko’s room to sleep.

“(Y/nnnnn)!” The annoyance whines, holding his desk from the other side and batting his eyelashes at you.

“Suguru, pick a number, one, two, or three?” You ask him sweetly.

“Uh, three?”

You nod, clenching your fists before sucking in. Satoru screams, ducking as you wind up your fists, the room shaking with crazy wind. “Three punches it is—”

The seal on your hand glows as Satoru puts up infinity, covering his face. Shoko is standing beside Suguru, squinting as your fist nears the six eyes' precious face.

Yaga though, with his impeccable timing, comes in, placing one of his dolls to catch the punch. It ends up exploding into smithereens, and Yaga, though clearly distraught, sighs.

You glare at Satoru one last time before kicking his chair’s leg, hoping he would fall, then taking your seat beside him.

“Anyone want to tell me what was happening here?”

The three glare at Satoru, who smiles innocently. Raising his hand up in the air, “I was brutally assaulted by (Y/N) senseiiii!”

“I didn’t even touch you.”

“You put cockroaches in her closet.”

“I think you deserved it,” Suguru finishes off the complaints, smiling sweetly as his friend is put in hot water.

Yaga furrows his eyebrows, rubbing the corners of his eyes as he tiredly groans. “It’s too early to deal with the four of you—”

“It’s only one of us, sensei!” You chirp, trying to be polite, but Satoru can see your glare at him through your kind face.

Yaga sighs before turning to the board, with chalk in his hand, he begins the lesson of the day.

-

“How boooring!” You stretch, making your way to tree where the four of you— yes, including Satoru— would be eating lunch.

Shoko passes you a mason jar to open for her, and you take it.

It shatters in your hold.

You blink, feeling the liquid fall over your hands. “Oh shit, she’s still mad at youuu!” Suguru teases, causing Satoru to nudge him aggressively.

“I’m fine,” You hold your hand out to Shoko once more, “Hand me another one.”

Hesitantly, she digs in the basket, taking another mason jar and shakily giving it to you. By the time all your fingerpads got on it, it, once again, shattered in your hold.

“Okay now what the fuck.”

“You’re doing it on purpose.” Satoru tells her smugly.

He’s trying to rile you up, and it’s working. Now, he really didn’t tamper with the mason jars, that was alllll you, but now he’s taking advantage of the situation. He can tell it’s working from the vein that’d popping out from your jaw.

He noticed it happened a lot when you clenched your jaw too much.

“One more time.” You ask, and Shoko— who really doesn’t want to give it to you— glances at Suguru, who just shrugs.

“C’mon on guys, last time. Promise.”

Now that didn’t sound so good. Whatever you were planning definitely had something to do with Satoru.

Shoko, scared it would explode on her, threw it to you. And, surprisingly this time, it didn’t burst.

“Heh, would you look at—”

It exploded again, but not in your hands. On Satoru’s infinity.

You threw it straight for his head, luckily he unconsciously put up infinity after feeling your anger.

“What the- OOF!”

Not only did you break his infinity on the first punch, but it made contact with his skin. He gasped, rolling away from the impact with a still cocky laugh.

You huffed, and surprisingly he still had the energy to talk.

“That was noth— BLEGHH”

“EW SATORU!” Suguru shouts, immediately standing up and watching as his best friend hack and gag away in the grass on his hands and knees from a distance.

Shoko grimaces, watching as you stand up, stomping over in his direction, kicking the living shit out of him.

“I should kill you right now.” You say coldly, stomping on him

“Ow! Suguru, Shoko! Help me!” He says, yelping as you continue to assault him.

They glance away, whistling to themselves because, suddenly, the sky looks super interesting.

When you’re done, you plop beside him, and he’s grinning at you, somehow.

You’re huffing, exhausted.

“Don’t do that again.”

“Got it.” He murmurs, holding his stomach in agony.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, so could you—”

“Count sheep, Satoru.” You sigh, patting his head warmly, almost guiltily before standing up, walking off back towards the school. Shoko snapping numerous photos of a beaten up Satoru in the grass.

“Heh, I am so gonna print those out.” She chuckles, trailing behind your huffing figure.

They all leave him alone in the grass, and finally he can relax with a sigh.

No one can really see hearts behind his covered eyes, and thank god for that.

-

Thank you guys for the support on ‘What was in the bag’, I really appreciate it 🙏🙏 I feel like i should make a master list but like I don’t really say anything on here other than stories so I guess there’s no need for that now. BUT ANYWAYS, SOMEONE ANYONE SUBMIT ME SOMETHING TO WRITE I’LL DO IT I SWEAR 🙏🙏😞

[slayfics]

A quiet birthday.

900 words

You brought your makeup brush to your face, as you neared the end of getting ready when your phone rang.

Eijiros's contact pic lit up your phone. It was a silly candid pic you had taken of him and Katsuki. A rare moment when Katsuki was belly laughing at the redhead's antics. No one ever got Katsuki laughing quite like his best friend.

"Hey," you answered the call. "I'm almost done getting ready. Are you and Mina here?"

"Uh no-," he said. Something was wrong, it was clear by the first syllable that left his mouth. "Katsuki texted me not to come."

"What?" you exclaimed bewildered. Today was Katsuki's birthday, you both planned to double date with Eijiro and Mina to celebrate. The four of you fought your hero agencies to all get the day off and even placed a reservation with a fancy restaurant several months in advance.

"Yeah- I thought you might have more information?" Eijiro questioned.

"No, hold on I'll talk to him and call you back," you decided.

You stormed into the living room; Katsuki was sitting nonchalantly on the couch scrolling on his phone. His phone lit up with a call, he scrunched his nose up exhaling an irritated grunt as he tossed it to the side.

"Hey," he greeted you.

"Hey? Is that all you got to say?" You questioned.

"Yeah?" He said raising an eyebrow at you. "The hell is with the attitude?"

"Why did you text Eijiro and Mina not to come?" You asked.

"Tch- should have known shitty hair would call you," Katsuki said rolling his eyes and making a grab for his phone now that it stopped ringing.

"Of course, he'd call me! We all planned this dinner for months!" You declared.

Katsuki didn't respond but continued to scroll on his phone.

"What's going on?!" You questioned.

"Nothing is going on," he said without looking up from his phone.

You exhaled with frustration, "I thought you liked this place?! We made sure to pick out something you'd enjoy. They have some the spiciest dishes around," You interrogated further.

"Yeah, I do like their food," he said pinching the bridge of his nose and running a hand down his face as he continued to avoid your gaze.

"We all had to push to get this day off from our agency- it's a weekend and a popular time when heroes are needed-," you continued.

"I know!" Katsuki snapped, causing you to recoil for a moment before hot anger took over.

"Then what the fuck is the problem?!" You snapped back.

"I just don't want to go!" He yelled, finally looking up from his phone. That's when you saw it. When Katsuki couldn't put his emotions into words his eyes gave him away. He was sad and frustrated; It was clear in the glassiness of his crimson eyes.

You let out a sigh, recognizing this was one of those times when you needed to gather your patience to get the stubborn blond to open up to you.

"Talk to me," you said, much gentler as you sat next to him on the couch.

"Already did," he said harshly, turning back to his phone and ignoring your closeness.

"Katsuki," you called placing your hand on his lap, "talk to me more."

Katsuki sighed and placed his phone back down. "Just... don't wanna go," he shrugged his shoulders. "Look- I know... I know how much everyone worked to get this day off for me, and we made these dumb reservations months ago- and you got all dressed up but... I don't know..." he said somberly.

"It's ok," you said squeezing his thigh empathetically, "It's your birthday. Tell me what you want to do?"

Katsuki turned to you as if you just told him a joke. "What do I want to do?" He asked.

"Yeah, it doesn't matter if this is what we had planned. If this isn't what you want now, I understand, and your friends will too." You spoke.

"Yeah?" he asked, the frustration slowly fading from his eyes, replaced by softness at your understanding.

"Yes," you confirmed.

"It's just- I haven't had a day off hero work in months and- I really just... don't want to talk to anyone or think about anything. Just wanna sit here... that sounds so fucking dumb, doesn't it?" He chuckled.

"No- it doesn't," you said leaning your head on his shoulder. "It's valid to want alone time, I can go read a book upstairs or something," you offered.

"No," he said sternly and pulled you onto his lap. "You get to stay."

You giggled at his affection while he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you. "Oh how lucky I am to be graced with your presence," you teased.

"Shut up brat," he laughed as his phone went off with another call. Katsuki groaned, "Another damn birthday call," he complained. "I know I'm an asshole- it's nice so many people care but fuck- I'm so tired of my damn phone going off..."

You grabbed his phone, clicked it to silent, and tossed it to the other side of the couch. "You can respond later- or never, but not now." You said resting back in his lap.

"This is perfect, just what I wanted," he said resting his head on top of yours.

tags: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @that-one-fangirl69

[mym1na]

୨ৎ SKATER GIRL ─ HANNI PHAM.

— 004. XXX STREET, WRITTEN.

3:00 PM / 📍 xxx street ⁉️

Hanni immediately walked onto the porch of what seemed like Beomgyu’s house. She quickly moved her hand to knock on the door, waiting for anyone to answer. Hanni hoped the boy she was looking for would answer. She stood there for a couple of minutes, in silence. She reached up to know again, but before she could hit the door, she heard quick footsteps that rushed to open the door.

The door swung open as Hanni's hand was halfway knocking, nearly hitting the person who opened the door. “I’m sorry!” She rushed out and immediately put her hands to her sides before looking at whoever opened the door.

Hanni’s expression dropped, only for her to realize who it was.

Yn. 

“Hanni?” Yn asked, staring at the girl with a confused face. She wondered why the girl was standing in front of her door.

“Uh—” Hanni stared at the girl for a moment, stuck in place, before snapping out of the trance. Yn seemed to put her in again.

“Um, Haerin told me this is where Beom lives; I might’ve gotten confused with the houses or something,” Hanni explained as she looked around, trying to figure out if it was the right house or not, and if it was, why was Yn at his house?

“He does, but he is not home,” Yn says, making Hanni's head snap towards her. Yn saw the gears turning in Hanni's head, already knowing what the girl was thinking.

“Ew, I see your thoughts; he’s my brother,” Yn explained without Hanni asking.

Hanni let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. "Wait, he’s your brother?” Hanni questioned.

“Unfortunately,” Yn replied sarcastically, not meaning it since she did kind of love her brother.

“Oh.” That was all Hanni said.

She was going to murder Choi Beomgyu. Why? For one, stealing her skateboard, and for two, never introducing her to his sister, who was, by the way, the prettiest girl she has ever seen. "Anyways, why are you here?” Yn spoke, breaking Hanni out of her thoughts.

“Oh, Beomgyu stole my skateboard, and I thought he would run back home with it.” Hanni quickly gave the girl a rundown of what happened. Only to realize that Beomgyu had her skateboard, and she didn’t even know where he was.

“Oh, I can get him home if you want.” Yn said, moving the door wider so Hanni could come in, “You can wait here for him to come.”

Hanni nodded her head awkwardly, muttering a small “thank you” to Yn before walking into the home.

“I’ll be back; I’m going to go get my phone,” Yn says before quickly walking upstairs to her room.

Hanni stood quiet, looking around the home of the Choi's, taking in every single detail in sight, from the pictures of the siblings on the walls to the random handmade mini figures laid out on a shelf near the living room TV. She subconsciously moved closer to the figures, admiring the work of whoever she could assume was Yn. How did she know it could be from the girl—stalking the girl’s account? Duh.

She heard footsteps from the stairs, making her turn in the direction of Yn. “I texted him that the microwave exploded again.”

Hanni's brows furrowed at the word ‘again’, “Again?” She asked, as confused as her facial expression was.

“Oh, yeah. Beomgyu did something to make the microwave explode once; I still don’t know how he managed to do it.”

Hanni snorted at the thought of Beomgyu doing that, finding it funny how that just made sense for the boy to do. 

“He’s so stupid,” Hanni says with a light laugh.

“He is,” Yn said with a disappointed look, shaking her head with her hands on her hips as if she were a disappointed mother.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, the front door swung open, making Hanni perk up. “I’m home! And I brought a new microwave!” Beomgyu's voice echoed throughout the house as he walked closer into the house.

Beomgyu's brows furrowed at the silence. He walked farther in the hallway, close to where the girls were in the living room. "Oh, my god. What if she was dead? What if the microwave got to her?” Beomgyu mumbled to himself, loud enough for the girls to hear in the other room, making the pair turn to each other, holding back a laugh that’s begging to spill out.

“Yn!” Beomgyu yelled out, now walking into the living room where the two girls stood.

Beomgyu looked between them, microwave in hand, now realizing why Yn called him home.

She set him up.

“You set me up?” Beomgyu asked. Acting as if his sister had set him up for something horrible. Which wasn't; he’s just dramatic.

“You stole her skateboard.” Yn speaks as she walks up to the boy, slapping his neck.

“Hey!”

“Hi!” Yn replied, giving the boy another slap. Beomgyu let out a sigh, rubbing his neck to ease the pain.

“Stop hitting me! I’m older!” Beomgyu complained.

“Older and stupid. Give her skateboard back.” Yn told him, pointing to Hanni, who was trying to hold back a laugh from Yn slapping Beom. Beomgyu scowled at Hanni, noticing that she was laughing at the situation.

Hanni noticed this and shrugged, “What? You took my board.”

“But you took my Bob!”

Hanni rolled her eyes with a snort. “And what? I look better in it.” Hanni teased the boy while gesturing to her head. She still had the wig on, and she was right. She did look into it.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes before turning to his sister and saying, “Kick her out before I snatch that thing off her head.” Beomgyu walked away with the microwave in hand.

“Where is her board?” Yn yelled out to the boy. He turned around quickly, pointing to the front door with his body before facing away from his sister to place the microwave on a counter.

Yn shook her head with a smile at Beomgyu’s dramatic exit before turning towards Hanni. “Well, you can steal your board back.”

“Thank you.” Hanni gave Yn an awkward smile before walking towards the door and grapping her skateboard.

“Uh, I’ll go now, thanks.” It was almost like a fuse switch, Hanni immediately going from slightly normal to her normal awkward self, who can just barely talk to pretty girls.

Yn noticed the sudden switch, finding it entertaining more than anything. “So you’re back to being awkward?”

Hanni scratched her hand awkwardly and said, “Yeah, I guess so.” She replied.

“But thanks for letting me wait here.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Yn said with the tiniest that Hannni could not see since she was too buddy, avoiding Yn’s face. "Try not to run over people with your board or lose it to some idiot.”

“Hey! I heard that!” Beomgyu’s voice echoed from the other room.

“Good!” Yn yelled back at him.

Hanni smiled at the interaction, “I’ll try not to. Especially lose it to some idiot.”

“Guys, What the fuck, I’m literally in the other room!” Beomgyu once again yelled from the kitchen with annoyance.

“Shut up, bob boy,” Yn said.

And with that, Hanni slowly moved to the house door. Sending a quick wave before walking out of the house. Almost immediately regretting it.

“I was in the same house as her, and I didn't ask her for a number... again.” Hanni sighed at her stupidity and wasted the opportunity to ask for the girl's number again.

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[starscabaret]

☆First Date Yandere! Vincent☆

pairing: yandere! Vincent x fem reader 

summary: first date and head canons at end

warnings: n/a 

authors note:

You opened your window, slowly at first, you sensed no danger but still aired on the side of caution. 

“Vincent, I know you’re out here stop being a fucking creep and ask to come in.” You huffed at the poorly hidden lanky man. 

He thought you didn’t know he lurked outside of your house staring at you. You knew and instead of being scared and calling the cops like you probably should have … you oddly found it endearing. 

“Uhm hey I’m sorry … I just …. I don’t know.” said a red-faced Vincent, as he moved from his hiding spot rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 

“Whatever I don’t care, just don’t be outside my house creepin’ like a damn thief in the night.” You said outwardly annoyed even though you really weren’t. You weren’t angry more so curious about his interest in watching you.

After you let him in through your bedroom window, once he stepped inside, he locked it. You then guided him to your living room for a bit of Southern hospitality…. just sweet tea and pound cake for now. 

He sat on your couch looking largely out of place but still so handsome to you. 

“OK, so what’s your deal? Are you trynna kill me? rape me? date me? what?” You spoke rapid-firing questions, no need to beat around the bush. 

“Uh no none of that I’m so sorry y/n, I just, I, I don’t know, I think I’m interested in you.” He stuttered out.

“You think or you know?” you said hand on your hip. 

“I want you to like me, I want to make you smile.” Vincent said nervously. 

“I think you’re trying to ask me on a date.” You replied.

“Is that what people normally do? Is that what you’d want your man to do for you?” Vincent questioned. He obviously had little to no understanding of dating and romance. 

“I believe so, so when and where to?” you asked smiling and smirking.

“Uh can I pick you up tomorrow at 5?” he shyly asked. 

“Yes Vinny, now get out, and I better not catch you in my fucking yard again.” You said while shooing him to the door. 

After you slammed the door in his face Vincent was mind blown. You hadn’t called the cops. and you two were going on a date.

Since he had laid eyes on you Vincent started googling all kinds of silly childish things like, how to tell if you like someone? does she like me? what is a date?

But now he finally had a date planned and he was freaking out. He knew nothing, and he could not fuck this up. Google could only help him so much… It was time to call his mother and ask for advice.

He really didn’t want to; it was his last resort. His mother would be very dramatic, he was sure. But it was you, he needed all the help he could get so he bit the bullet.

He had never expressed any romantic or sexual interest in anyone, let alone to his mother. But for you, he felt both. 

After speaking with his mother on the phone for hours, he felt equipped to court you. It wouldn’t be normal. He wasn’t normal, He couldn’t love you normally. But he could love you. And after his courtship, he wondered if you would love him too.

He knew that his brain was different, and so did his mother, that’s why he wasn’t shocked at his odd attraction to you. He just knew he needed and wanted you. He understood that much. 

From what he knew about you from your first encounter to the few conversations you two had during his time working near your home. He found you enchanting. He felt like you were missing something, and he could be all of that. He would be all of that for you.

He knew even more about you from the time he’d spent outside of your house. Yes, it was wrong, but he liked to see your face before he drove home for the evening. If he didn’t, he’d have to wait until you woke up and went on to your porch the next morning. That was too long for him.

The next day when he took you on your date, you wanted nothing more than to take the gentle giant home with you forever. 

☆⋆。𖦹°‧★☆⋆。𖦹°‧★☆⋆。𖦹°‧★☆⋆。𖦹°‧★☆⋆。𖦹°‧★☆⋆。𖦹°‧★

yandere! Vincent brought you a bundle of beautiful large white lilies when he knocked on the door to pick you up for your date. 

yandere! Vincent held you closer as you hugged him in thanks for the flowers. He looked down at you and used his huge hand to tilt your chin so he could examine your face. 

yandere! Vincent opened the door to his car for you and even buckled you in. 

yandere! Vincent lets you choose the music, while internally remembering the type of music you enjoyed. 

yandere! Vincent held your hand tightly in his as you walked into the restaurant he chose.

yandere! Vincent listened to everything you talked about on your date. When you asked him questions and he answered right away. 

yandere! Vincent refuses to leave the restaurant if you don’t pick a dessert. He wouldn’t have one, but he insisted you deserved it. 

yandere! Vincent is very nervous if the date is going well, but you keep smiling and it warmed his heart. 

yandere! Vincent didn’t want the date to end as he drove you home from your last stop of the night. But he couldn’t think of a way to keep you longer. 

yandere! Vincent’s phone rang while he drove, and he asked that you answer it to your surprise. He wouldn’t risk any reckless driving, not while you were in his car. 

yandere! Vincent’s mom was on the other side, she audibly gasped when she heard a woman’s voice. She knew right away who you are and she began to embarrass Vinny by saying how much he likes you, how much he talks about you, even the dumb things he did as a kid. By the end of the phone call, you were crying with laughter. His mother was hilarious and kind-hearted. Vinny just drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove, he wasn’t worried about the conversation between you too. Once parked on your street Vincent took his phone and spoke to his mother briefly before hanging up. 

yandere! Vincent told you his mother said goodnight and that you are a doll. He walks you to the entrance of your home after unbuckling you and opening your door. When at the door you invite him in. You aren’t ready to leave him either.

[johnwickb1tsch]

🌻Small Town Girl🌻 ~ Part 2

Tex Johnson thought he was just passing through…until he set his eyes on you. 

Part 2 of a little Tex x Reader fic for my beloved @treedaddymcpuffpuff. ILYSM!😘

Warnings: mentions of past spousal abuse, mentions of animal abuse, religious trauma...you know, the usual social problems of depressed rural america... I can say that because I live here. divider by saradika part 1

2. 

You’re a heavy sleeper, but this takes the cake.

When you stagger into your kitchen and look out the window Tex’s Chevelle is parked half in your gravel driveway, half in your yard. And tethered to your fence post munching green grass to his heart’s content is a certain miniature equine who you’d tried to acquire with cold hard cash the night before.

Fuck.

You march outside in your threadbare nightgown and your bare feet, finding Tex asleep in the driver’s seat. How the hell did he even get this horse here with that car?

If he put Ziggy in the trunk you are going to murder him.

You pound on the window, and he wakes with a violent start. “Popsicles!”

“What?”

He looks around, before fixing on you, and seems to relax a hair. “Mornin’, darlin’.”

“What. The fuck. Did you do?”

“Uh…funny story…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What? Didn’t you want this horse?”

“Yeah, but…” You pull at your hair, feeling a migraine coming on already. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

You turn in the dew-wet grass to go check on Ziggy. You hear Tex exiting the car behind you. “Don’t be mad, baby.”

“I’m not mad,” you answer sadly, running your fingers through the little horse’s coarse blond mane. “I’m scared.”

Ziggy nibbles at your fingers with his meaty lips, wanting the treats he associates you with. He was going to need a whole lot more than molasses cookies though. You could already tell how your day was going to go.

“Don’t be scared either, darlin’,” Tex says behind you.

“Easy for you to say. You realize this is the first place Dale is gonna come look? And he’ll probably bring Donnie too.”

Nevermind the restraining order you have. It won’t stop him. He’s friends with half the sheriff’s deputies anyway. The Barksdales are damn near untouchable. You learned that the oh so hard way.

“Honey, I’m not going to let them hurt you.” 

For the sake of the horse you keep your temper in check, moderating your voice when all you want to do is yell. “What are you going to do? Watch over me every minute of the day?” He lifts his brows like he likes that idea–you do too, which is batshit insane, because you don’t actually know a goddamn thing about this man.

“Hold on. How did you even know where I live?”

He shrugs. “Not hard to find out, if you know where to look.”

“Well that’s not creepy at all.”

You guess all he’d have to do is ask at the gas station–your family’s been here long enough that it’s basically common knowledge.

You stand there in your faded floral muumuu and your bare feet, toe to toe with this tall dark man and if you had any sense you would be afraid…but you’re not. You’re not because you just don’t think he’ll hurt you. You feel it in your bones and you haven’t had that certainty about any man in so long you can’t remember, and it’s driving you a little wild inside.

“I need my boots,” you sigh, and brush past him to go back to the house.

***

You put Ziggy in the farthest back stall of your barn, where he’ll be out of sight should anyone come looking. With a flake of hay and some grains in his bucket, he seems perfectly content, the sweet sound of him munching filling the old oak building. You lean on a rough sawn post and watch him with a storm in your heart, wondering how long its been since he’d been able to eat his fill.

There will be a price to pay for this little horse’s well being, and you decide whatever it is will be worth it, even if you are afraid. Tex’s presence might deter vengeance for a little while, but he won’t be here forever. You know he won’t, no matter how nice it is to think it, so you’d better be ready.

You were going to have to think on this.

But first, you were going to have to call the ferrier. Luckily you had a friend who wouldn’t rat you out to the Barksdales. Angela was tough as nails and didn’t kowtow to their bullshit. 

It occurs to you that maybe the best thing for Ziggy, and the best thing for you, might be to get this horse far away from here. You wouldn’t put it past Dale or Donnie or one of his other heartless relatives to sneak into your barn in the dead of night and do something awful. There wouldn’t be a whole lot you could do about it either.

You’ve had this horse for about 5 seconds, and the thought of giving him up already breaks your heart.

Tex has been standing silently beside you. You feel his eyes on you, but in what you suspect is a rare occurrence, he’s not running his mouth, giving you space to think. But when you give a heavy sigh he finally breaks. “Come on, darlin’, I thought this would make you happy. It kills me to see you sad.” He opens his arms to you, but you eye them warily. It’s too tempting by far. The way this man is dangerous to you, is that you could get too used to his company too quick.

“You want breakfast?” you deflect.

He nods, those dark eyes taking the measure of you, looking through you, you’re afraid, right into your soul. “Sure.” But he doesn’t move, still just looking at you. 

“What?” you grouse.

Your annoyance only makes him grin.

“Did I mention you’re the cutest little thing in a muumuu and muck boots this side of the Mississippi?”

You roll your eyes, not believing him for a minute. Your hair is still in its bird’s nest of a sleeping braid and you haven’t had your coffee yet. With hands on your hips you look him over too. He’s still wearing the same shirt as last night, and his eyes are a little bloodshot.

“Did you tie one on last night and steal that horse?”

He scrubs at the back of his neck, looking all the while like a guilty schoolboy. “Well…about that…”

This is the thing that finally breaks through your black mood, lifting your sorrow like a blanket. The thought of this man committing grand theft pony–dare you think it, for you–brings a small smile to your lips, and a whole lot of sunshine to your heart.

“Tell me in the house. I’m hungry.” When he doesn’t immediately budge you turn him by the shoulders and give him a shove. Without really thinking about it, you smack his ass for good measure. That tight little behind is round, and firm, and you bite your lip without meaning to, wishing it was something else.

He makes a show of jumping with surprise, smirking at you knowingly over his shoulder. “Watch it, baby girl, or I’mma get myself a handful next,” he warns you with a wicked glint in his eye that makes your insides churn. 

You don’t know what insane notion possesses you, when you stick out your tongue at him– and run. 

You're smarter than this. You know you don't run from a predator. You face them down and smack them on the nose. 

His laughter from right behind you makes an electric thrill zip from your heart to your toes. Dear Lord. No man should be this much fun. 

He really is like a drug, and you don’t know what you were thinking running from him, because you are not fast, and you are clumsy, but somehow it’s him behind you who lets out a surprised yell.

You turn to find Tex with his foot in a hole up to his calf. “Oh my god. Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” He extricates himself, and you both peer down into a tunnel running under the aisle of your dirt floor barn. You look at the direction, and follow it to an unoccupied stall. Throwing open the door, you find mounds and mounds of freshly disturbed earth.

“Motherfucker. That groundhog is back.”

Tex looks at the impressive damage with eyebrows raised high. “Goddam. You sure it ain’t a bear? Or a rogue bulldozer?”

“Yes. I can’t deal with this now. Come on.” You take his hand, pulling him towards the house, and he happily follows.

You pause at the front door. “Umm…it’s going to be chaos for a minute. Fair warning.” Then you lead him into the fray.

Chichi is a tiny black and tan tornado at your feet, yipping and screaming. You shake a treat can and hand one to Tex. “Give this to him if you want to live.”

Raising an eyebrow, Tex complies, crouching down to the little dog’s level to offer the morsel. Chichi gobbles it and quiets down, switching to sniffing and licking as Tex scratches his side. His hand is almost as big as your dog, and it touches your heart, how sweet he is to the little creature. Satisfied, Chichi runs back to you for a snuggle.

“We good now?” you ask the little chihuahua. He licks you fervently, and you laugh, setting him back down on the floor. Your bulldog reacts in the exact opposite manner, not even getting out of her bed, only deigning to open one eye to regard your visitor. Your conure has joined in the cacophony, and will not quiet until you give him a piece of apple.

“I hope you like fresh eggs and bacon, it’s all I got.”

“Alright.” He seems amused by you, and the happy mayhem of your home, looking around with a sparkle in his eye. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure.” You point him in the right direction and go to the kitchen, lighting a burner under your cast iron skillet. You busy yourself with frying bacon and cracking eggs and filling the kettle for coffee. You are so concentrated on your task that it takes you a moment to notice Tex leaning on the door jam–sans shirt.

You blink, and nearly put your hand in the hot pan. “You forget something?” you ask, trying like hell not to stare at the broad expanse of muscled torso before you. Jesus fucking christ, that’s not fair.

“My clean shirts are back at the motel,” he defends. 

His hair is slightly damp from washing up, looking unfairly edible.

He sidles closer, and you notice the top button of his jeans is undone. A long scar runs down the center of his abdomen, leading your eye to a dark patch of hair that disappears into his waistband. 

Evil. This man is pure evil–and you want to taste every inch of him.

“My eyes are up here, darlin’,” he says with a smirk. 

“You are a menace,” you grouse, holding up a spatula in defense as he just keeps getting closer. He smirks, looking down at the implement.

“You gonna spank me, sweetheart?”

“I would, but I’m afraid you’d like it.”

You are warm all over, and it has nothing to do with slaving over a hot stove.

“Can I help?”

Like he hasn’t helped enough.

“Sure. Pour that hot water into that carafe.”

He looks between the french press, the kettle, and you. “Ever heard of a Mr. Coffee?”

“We don’t tolerate weak coffee in this house.”

He grins at you, doing as he’s told. He even knows to stir it with a wooden spoon, which makes you think he was just pulling your leg.

While you are flipping bacon you feel him zero in behind you, the line of warmth from his body like a heat lamp at your back. “Smells wonderful,” he says, daring to touch your waist.

“It’s meat candy, what do you expect?” You’re not sure if you’re talking about the bacon, or him. 

“Hmm.” His chuckle is a low rumble behind you. You feel it reverberate in your bones. The tips of his fingers press into your sides as he grips fistfuls of your nightgown–and you–as he nuzzles your hair. The sound you make as you wiggle in his arms is almost cartoonish. He takes no mercy, laughing and holding you closer. The warm, solid line of his body behind you is divine, so wonderful you can hardly stand it.

“You are going to make me burn the bacon!” you screech in an attempt at self-defense.

“That’s alright, I’ll just eat you for breakfast,” he tells you in that low growl that makes your knees weak, ducking to nibble at your ear. It’s possible you give in for a few seconds, your head rocking back against his shoulder as he holds you. Why does it have to feel like you fit together so well? When his long fingers bunch in your skirt, pulling it up as his other hand reaches for your breast you think you might combust. In a panic you smack his hand with the spatula with a little scream, trying not to giggle. 

“Go sit down!”

With a wicked chuckle he skips out of reach before you can smack him again, collapsing into one of the old wooden kitchen chairs. His smoldering gaze meets yours, and you feel unsettled. 

This man. Lord save you.

Or not. Maybe…you don’t want to be saved.

“I don’t know how you do things in Texas, but here you don’t get to feel a girl up just because you rustled a horse for her.”

He grins, baring his teeth like he means to eat you.

“Sorry, darlin’, blame the muumuu.”

You try to keep a straight face, but in the end you fail utterly. 

“You gonna tell me how all this happened?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“No, but I should.”

“Hmm. Well, after the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met abandoned me at the fair–”

“Oh save it, Mr. L.A. stuntman.”

He grins but goes on, “I had to do something to nurse my broken heart. So I went to the aforementioned TJ’s by the creek…”

“Ok, this is starting to make sense.”

You start setting dishes of food and plates on the table. Eggs, bacon, toast, butter and jam, and of course, coffee. “And I only had one drink, because I’m a cautious sort of fellow…”

“Yes, that has been made glaringly apparent in the short time I've known you.”

He nods in agreement with a fey glint in his eye all the while. “And who walks in, but our friend Dale…”

“Oh god. You didn’t pick a fight with him, did you?”

“I did not. I went out to the parking lot, to find his horse trailer still full of petting zoo employees conveniently two cars away from mine.”

You cover your mouth, so he can’t see the absolutely feral grin forming on your lips. “You didn’t.”

“I so did. Let the goats out to disperse in the woods there, and wouldn’t you know Ziggy fit right in my passenger seat?”

You are picturing this big tough man in his muscle car peeling out down the road with that cute little horse as a co-pilot. That must be the point when you officially lose your sanity, because you crawl into his lap, planting a big kiss right on his mouth. He lets out a low moan of appreciation, cupping your rear end in his two big hands.

“Tex?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“You’re a goddamned hero.”

“I know! I’ve been trying to tell you,” he says with a grin, stealing another kiss.

You try to extricate yourself to go sit in the opposite chair, but he will not let you. You eat breakfast together, sitting in his lap, his big warm hand on your thigh while you giggle and feed each other morsels and talk, and you can’t help but feel like things might turn out afterall.

***

Tex is helping you do the dishes, or maybe distracting you from doing the dishes, because he keeps plying you with toe curling kisses, when the two of you watch a battered red Chevy pickup pull down your driveway.

“Shit,” you say, recognizing it immediately.

“Here we go. Later than I expected.”

You look up at him open mouthed, an involuntary fear response coursing through your veins, turning your limbs ice cold. “You expected?”

“It’s alright, darlin’. Stay inside.” He kisses your forehead, cradling your cheek with a sweet assurance that you want to believe in, more than anything. It would be too good to be true, to have a man who could really protect you. Someone you could just…depend on. You want it with every fiber of your being, and rather than get your shotgun and run out to the porch on bare feet, you stand there in the kitchen and watch Tex go out the door, pulling a white t-shirt down over a blocky black object tucked into the back of his jeans.

Oh Lord. 

Predictably, Dale is driving, and your blood turns to ice as your piece-of-shit ex spills out of the passenger seat. And even though you know the very Devil is standing there in your driveway, your first thought, as ever when seeing Donnie Barksdale, is damn he looks good. 

There really is something wrong with you. 

He’s wearing a flannel with the sleeves cut off and his usual trucker hat advertising some manner of farm implement (as if he’s ever worked that hard). As always, the sight of Donnie feels like a sharp knife shoved up between your ribs. No matter what he did to you, a part of you will always love that man, or at least, the boy he was when he was your friend, your first love, before he became so hell bent on destroying you. To this day, you do not understand what you ever did to that man, to make him turn on you so violently. You offered him all the love in your heart, and in turn he made you feel worthless. For a time, you actually believed it was true. Now you know better, but it’s been a long, hard road.

“Who the hell are you?” barks Donnie up at the self-assured man standing sentry on your front porch. 

“That’s not what you should be worryin’ about right now,” answers Tex, leaning on the post. 

“That a fact?” 

“Yep. The thing you should be worryin’ about is that you’re trespassin’.” 

Dale exits his truck, leaning on the dented hood. “That’s the fucker that hit me last night, Donnie.” 

Donnie nods, sizing Tex up. The thing about Donnie is…he doesn’t like to get into a fight he doesn’t know he’s going to win. And Tex is a helluva wildcard. It’s possible your no-good wife-beatin’ ex finally met his match. 

“He’s leaving out the bit about askin’ for it. Is beatin’ on y/n y/l/n just a universal pastime in this county for you boys when you run outta pigs to fuck, or what?” drawls Tex, picking at his fingernails. 

Donnie bristles at this, taking a step forward. “Motherfucker–” 

“That’s as far as you go, son,” warns Tex, producing the object from the back of his jeans. You knew it was a gun. You did not know it was that big of a gun. Donnie is wearing his usual inscrutable aviators, but Dale’s eyes go wide. 

“We’re just here to get my stolen horse, mister,” says Dale, holding his hands up. 

“Aww, you boys missin’ your lil’ pony? Better check the lost and found then. It ain’t here.” 

“We’ll have a look for ourselves,” spits Donnie, stepping towards the barn. 

Boom!

The report of the pistol is deafening, and the bullet sends up an explosion of gravel right in front of Donnie’s feet. The dogs and the bird go crazy, starting up and barking and screeching. Donnie jumps backwards three feet, his glasses falling off into the dirt. The expression of fear on his face is as rare as it is priceless. 

“You crazy asshole!”

You scoop up Chichi, trying to comfort him. The little dog trembles like a leaf in your arms. You murmur nonsense to it, but your eyes are glued to the confrontation outside, adrenaline rolling through your veins like flash flood water. You realize you’re shaking almost as badly as the dog. 

“Guilty. Ever seen a Desert Eagle? Shoots a big fuckin’ bullet. A .50 caliber round will explode your kneecap like an apple.” Tex whistles with appreciation, and you’re pretty sure Donnie goes pale. “Wanna test my aim today? I might miss and hit you in the balls.” 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this the way you are, but God did that man have it coming. 

 “We should call the Sheriff on you!” 

“Please do. This is a ‘stand your ground’ state. We can tell him about how you’re trespassing, and I’m pretty sure you ain’t supposed to be within 300 yards of that pretty little thing watchin’ us from the kitchen.” 

Donnie’s attention zeroes in on the window, and you sense it like a laser sight fixed upon you. You hate it, how just that hateful look makes you flinch. 

“Y/n!” Donnie calls. “Come out here!” 

“She don’t need to come out here,” says Tex. “She ain’t gonna save you.” 

Donnie seems actually surprised, when you do not obey him, staying put in your spot in the kitchen. 

When the two men just stand there in the driveway, frozen and speechless, Tex cocks the pistol for show. “You need another demonstration? Git!”

“This ain’t over, fucker!” spits Donnie, pointing menacingly–from a safe distance. 

“You better hope it is. Don’t come back, and if either one of you ever touches her again I’ll kill you. That’s a promise. Now get the fuck out of here!” 

Spoiling for a fight but clearly outgunned, the two men back towards the truck, slowly climbing in. “There you go. See ya, bronies!” 

Tex waves the pistol in their direction, and you hear Donnie yell at Dale, “Fuck! Drive! Drive!”

Dale peels out, leaving ruts in your gravel and a dust cloud as they go.

Tex stays on the porch watching until their truck is good and gone. When he finally makes it back into the house you are a teary-eyed little mess. When he sees you the flint in his eyes immediately softens. “Aw, don’t cry honey, c’mere.” You do, and with your head resting on the solid warm wall that is this man’s chest you start to lose it. 

“You actually did it.” 

“Course I did. I told you I would,” he says, stroking your hair as he holds you.

“But…you actually did it,” you say again, because you still cannot believe what just happened. No man has managed to stand up to Donnie Barksdale since your Grandpa, at 80 years old, who stood between you and Donnie in the very same spot on the porch, with the same 12 gauge you still keep behind the hutch, and threatened to cut your then-husband in half if he took another step closer. 

It was the last night Donnie beat on you, and broke your orbital bone, two of your teeth, and your arm. You’d escaped into the dark woods that night, and even though you are not stealthy or fast you managed by some miracle to make it through the brush and thorns and barbed wire fences the two miles to your grandparents’ farm house. It was the last straw, and you finally set the wheel in motion to divorce him the next day. 

You are not a pretty crier, but Tex lets you soak his shirt with tears and snot, holding you and murmuring sweet nonsense. “That’s right, honey, get it out. It’s ok.”

For once, it doesn’t sound like an empty placation. Donnie seemed genuinely scared of Tex, and Dale is an even bigger coward than Donnie. Maybe…they really will just leave you alone. 

Stranger things have happened. 

“I’m sorry,” you wheeze, trying to pull away to get a tissue. “I’m a mess.” 

But Tex pulls you back, not seeming to care one bit, and when his lips touch yours it really does seem like everything in the world has turned right. 

Amusingly, Chichi has been sandwiched between all this in your arms, and only just begins to put up a grumble of protest. “Oh hush, lil buddy,” says Tex, not unkindly, scratching the little dog under the chin. He does nearly the same thing to you, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod and offer a watery smile, setting the dog down on the ground. It’s not what Chichi wants, but he’ll live. “Yes. Thank you.” 

If Donnie believed what Tex said…you do too. There is something dangerous about this man. A wildness that makes his threat feel like a promise. You guess that when the law fails you, what you truly need is an outlaw who keeps his word. Yet you truly believe he’s not a danger to you. You feel safe with him, and maybe that’s the biggest miracle of all. 

“As silly as this sounds after the morning we’ve had…I really do have to go to work.” 

“Alright. I’ll drive you.” A part of you wants to say it’s not necessary. But the other half of you? Just wants to bask in this new found feeling of security while it lasts. You can’t expect Tex to stick around forever to babysit you. But for right now…god, it feels good, to not have to carry this weight all on your own shoulders. 

You kiss him again, and it is warm, and sweet as sugar cookies fresh from the oven. You melt into him, and with his strong arms around your waist, then lower, it is very hard to get up the motivation to go clean up and put on your uniform. 

“Honey, you keep kissin’ me like that and we’re not goin’ anywhere.” 

It’s embarrassing, but you know the sound you make in answer is something like a cat in heat, your fingers curling in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You feel his words inside you–in the rhythm of your heart, and the throb of your loins. It’s damn near unbearable, this sudden restlessness you feel inside.

You don’t have anyone else to depend on, so you always have to do the responsible thing. Go to work. Get the money. Pay the bills. No one escapes the bullshit death march of Capitalism, except the fuckers who are running the game.

And yet. Maybe…just this once…you could call in sick. 

You stand on tiptoe to kiss him again, grabbing fistfuls of the fluffy waves of his now dried hair. “Tex?” 

“Yeah, baby.” His voice is pure honey dripping golden in the sun. 

“Let’s go upstairs.” His big hands flex against the soft curves of your hips, grabbing fistfuls of nightgown like he’s thinking about tearing it off of you. Incredibly, he says nothing glib, just nods. But when he looks down at you for a long, heated moment–you think he could burn down the world, with the fire in that dark gaze. 

“Lead the way, darlin’.” 

You take his big, beautiful hands in yours, and pull him towards the stairs.

[unidentified-ending]

What's up bro! I was just wondering weather you could make a little oneshot-headcanon about a male student in aizawas class who's younger brother (age 4-5) is quite dangerous due to his quirk but he's never done anything and he's been declined from multiple daycares and his parents are super stressed but Aizawa ends up taking the male reader younger brother to U.A's daycare and everyone in the dorms loves him bc he's so cute.

Thanks man, have a good day!!!!!

A/N: of course bro, this request is so cute so buckle up for some fluffy, maybe ooc aizawa and a cute younger brother.

This can be read as a trans or cis dude but if trans js imagine you got top surgery at a young age (not that young tho!). It's not mentioned anyways

Your parents were stressed. Like stressed stressed.

Your younger brother with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes was boping around in your living room.

His name was Kuragari and he could destroy all of reality in one clap of his hand

But it's never happened before, but most people stay away from the cute ball of happiness.

When he was a child (2-3), everyone would stay away from him but he had you

Y/n L/n, a (personality trait) boy who was in class 1a, UA. Aspiring hero, and the best brother anyone could ask for.

Anyways back to the point.

Your parents were stressed, Kuragari's power was getting in the way of his daycare applications.

He was dangerous and so nobody came near him bc of "the sake of the other children"

And your parents both worked and you went to school so it was a hell of a time trying to do something for him

He'd usually get a baby sitter but he'd cry a couple of hours in, begging for you and his parents.

Which made either you, your mother or father come home from work early and have to settle him down

But that when the offer of you life came true.

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

"Y/n" you hear a faint voice call for you.

"Y/n!" The same voice but louder said again.

"Y/N!" The person said and you shot up straight away, the redness in your eyes and the bags under them were a huge sign of no sleep.

You looked around, you were in your classroom but nobody was in there, just your homeroom teacher calling out for you.

"Yes sir! I'm up, I'm up." You exclaimed into the empty room, your brother had woken up crying at exactly 2:27 am yesterday night and your parents wouldn't wake up so you had to deal with Kuragari by yourself and that lasted duntil 4:16 am when he decided to sleep. And you knew you had to wake up at 7 tomorrow so only 3 hours of sleep didn't toll well on your body.

"It's break, why are you still sleeping?" Aizawa questioned, though not making any visable facial expressions.

"I-uh, I just didn't get enough sleep. I'm okay" You said, blinking in drowsiness

Aizawa raised an eyebrow and said "Are you sure? Is there something I need to know?"

"Nah, not really. It's just my younger brother Kuragari. He's been declined by so many daycares' bescuse his quirk is too dangerous for the daycare but hes never actually used it before." You explain and Aizawa listens intently.

"He can break reality in one clap of his hands but he's so cute, he's 5 this year and me, my mother and my father have been extremely stressed about this issue because nobody can baby sit him for more then five hours before he starts to throw a fit and cry. And we have to take care of him at night and its very tiring."

Aizawa listened to your story all the way through and at the end he said, "How about we take him and we can take care of him? It's up to your parents though." Your eyes glimmered at the idea and you told him you'd ask them this evening.

That evening~~~~

"Mum, Dad. I've got news! Sensei Aizawa said he's take in Kuragari into the U.A daycare! Only if you want." You exclaimed when you got into the house and ran straight into your living room.

"Wait what?" Your father said, a hint of surprisment in his voice. "Really?" You mother said, a huge smile growing on her face.

"Yes!" You shouted with picking up your little brother and he immediately started laughing and clapping his hands together in excitement even though he had no idea what you were talking about.

A few hours later

"So what do we need to do to get Kuragari in there?" Your mother said while feeding him some food.

"Nothing, we just have to bring him in tomorrow and they take him in, look after him and there is another sweet girl called Eri in there. She's so sweet and I think they would get along together."

"Are you sure about this, honey?" Your father said to your mother

"It's a opportunity we must take. For the sake of our sleep" Your mother yawned.

Your father nodded on agreement.

"Alright then, but it's your responsibility to dress and wash him in the morning because we have work tomorrow. Fair?" Your father asked while taking a sip of his coffee.

"Fair" you agreed while picking up Kuragari and placing him on the couch and turning on some baby shows.

The next morning~~~~~~

You looked at a snoozing Kuragari at 6:50 am. You knew he was gonna throw a fit about waking this early but he had to get up.

You picked up the snoozing boy and cradled him in your hands, gently rubbing your finger over his forehead to wake him.

He started to fidget in your hands and kick his legs about. That's when he opened his ayes and started wailing.

"Shh, shh it's okay. I need you to wake up for me." You say as you kissed his head and put him in his baby chair.

You made his baby breakfast and ate your own, he was still glaring at you for waking him up early.

After that, you ran a bath for the two of you while he played with some of his toys.

"Kuragari." You exclaimed and he came crawling over to the bathroom with a toy car in his hand.

You undressed him and put him in the bath and you also got in. He flapped around with his bath toys in the bath, accidentally hitting you with some bubbles.

"You silly child" you sighed before taking him out and dressing him in some new clothes.

"Alright lil bro, I'm gonna carry you to school today. So climb on my back." You said while taking your keys and unlocking your front door.

You crouched down do he could climb on your back and he crawled up your back and seated himself right on your shoulders.

Off you two go to school~~~

Surprisingly you were the only two there in your class. Mean class did start at 8:20 and you two got there at 7:59 so it was pretty early.

You went to sit at your desk and then you took your brother off your head and placed him on your desk, then placed your own head on the desk, hoping for some of your own sleep.

Your promised it would 5 minutes but 5 minutes turned into 15.

Your self-consciousness was telling you to get awake and that's when you shot up awake, immediately in search for you younger brother.

"Kuragari" you said, your eyes darted across the room but all you could see were your fellow classmates crowded around something..or someone.

"Where's my brother?" You said in panic and the whole class looked at you in surprise.

"You mean this bundle of joy" Denki said as he held your smiling and laughing brother in his hands.

Your face immediately relaxed, you hadn't lost him.

"I'm so sorry guys-" you started but Mina interrupted.

"There no need to be sorry he's so cute!" She said while the rest if the class agreed with him. You went to join the classmates of yours and when he saw you he did his signature grabby hands and you picked him up.

"Bakugo saw you sleeping when he came in then me spotted your brother on his desk. He carefully just put him back on your desk and sat down."

Bakugo tsked at his desk but didn't deny it.

"What's he even doing here anyways?" Sero says as he laughs with Kuragari.

"Oh it's a long story, so-" then a door slammed open and Aizawa walked in.

"What is going here?" He questioned and everyone moved out the way of Kuragari and Aizawa had one look at the child and back at you and he knew you two were siblings.

Kuragari on the other hand started to cry at the old grizzled man and immediately started to grab onto Deku's shirt.

"Sorry man, he's a bit grumpy. I'll take him out." You say to deku and he waves it off completely fine.

When you walk out of the room, Aizawa walked out as well.

"Sorry sensei, he's just-"

"Yeah yeah, I know. Let's just get him in the daycare and we can start lessons" Aizawa said and the two of you walked to the daycare in silence.

You dropped him off to the daycare in silence where he met Eri and they got along together.

The two of you walked back together to class in silence before Aizawa said. "He looks like you".

"Really?" You say, surprised at the comment.

"Yeah, I bet he's a hard one to deal with."

"Oh he is" you say, enjoying the small talk.

"I can see where he gets it from" he says and you accidentally let out a chuckle.

You knew you had a good teacher.

[crazyk-imagine]

Ruined Relationships, but the Love is There

Pairing: Mark Sloane x Ex-Girlfriend!reader

Characters: Mark Sloane, Ex-Girlfriend!reader, Kara Sloane, Jackson Avery, April Kepner, Meredith Grey, Christina Yang, Derek Sheppard, George O'Malley, Owen Hunt, Addison Montgomery (briefly mentioned)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, cheating, adultery, ooc peeps, minor cursing, drama (what else would you expect), like a lot of drama, near death experience, classic grey's things going on here, cheating, bad relationships, mentions of pregnancy, keeping children hidden from father, car accidents, reader is a doctor, everyone is in kahoots, Christina is into beating, Meredith and Derek are cute, Bailey is great as always, George is here and lives, no mentions of Izzie or Alex, friendships between Mark and Meredith, plus Mark and Christina, Christina is a secret romantic at heart

Word Count: 4,593

A/N: I feel like everyone is ooc but idc bc I love this fic

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

You ignore him, praying to whatever god is listening to keep him away from you.

Meredith and Christina notice the tension in your shoulders, sharing a look.

“You know I don’t care about a lot of people but, are you okay?” the curly haired female asks.

You shrug, acting as if nothing has changed. “I’m fine, why?”

Meredith chimes in. “You’re looking a little-“

“Squirrely?”

“I was gonna go with tense but squirrely works.”

You huff through your nose, “would you two shut up.” You hand the clipboard back to your favorite nurse, Marjorie. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You spin around and walk out, not looking back.

Derek shakes his head, watching you basically run out of the hospital.

Mark glances behind him, not finding who he wanted and sighs. He looks up to see his friend and offers a small wave.

The ferry boat lover nods to acknowledge him.

The plastic surgeon bids the others goodbye and stands in front of the doors, thinking about everything that led him here.

You drive past him without realizing it as he thinks of your face when you caught him in bed with Addison.

His eyes trail on the car, wishing he could see you again and not just glimpses.

-

You roll your eyes and walk away across the bridge, not caring how unprofessional you look. “I’m not talking to you.”

He picks up his pace, following after you. “Please just-“

You scoff, spinning around to face him, “no, I tried before. I did and then,” you lean forward poking him in his chest, “you decided to stick your dick in someone else. Someone who was married and oh, yeah, not your girlfriend.” You cross your arms, “so, excuse me for not being particularly excited at the sight of you.”

“Fiancé.”

You blink once, furrowing your brows. “What?”

“I was,” he gulps. "I was going to propose to you that night.” He pulls the little black box out of his pocket, handing it to you.

”Before or after you screwed Addison,” you bitterly add, staring at the box. If you open it, that's giving him hope.

"I- she came to me and-“

You scoff hard enough for the vibrations to scratch your throat for a few seconds. “I cannot believe this- you- you think it’s okay to just- I’m done.”

“Please don’t,” he begs, eyes getting glossier the more you talk. “Don’t say it.”

Your bottom lip wobbles, removing your gaze from him. “I’m done with this, with us, and you. Now, you get to deal with the guilt. If you have any at all.” You slam the box in his hand and walk away.

Nothing could have prepared anyone at the hospital for this.

You know they’re all looking at you and it pisses you off. “What are you looking at?!”

Christina does damage control, stopping everyone from getting your wrath.

-

Meredith finds him in the on-call room, she was hoping to nap before joining in on a surgery but seems like the universe had other plans. ”You uh- okay?”

He fiddles with the box, staring at the diamond that taunts him. “Does it look I’m okay?”

She shrugs, “not really but it’s better than admitting you were stupid for messing things up with her.”

“My mistake brought Derek to you, didn’t it?”

“Why are you here?”

“If I go to Joe’s I’m going to sleep around, proving her point.”

“And staying here?”

“I don’t know where else to go. Derek is still upset with me, and I don’t blame him, but I know he loves you and I don’t need to hear a speech from him. I’m not ready for him to tell me I messed up more than any of us want to admit.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” He asks, finally looking up from the ring. “I was scared.”

“To,” she gestures to the ring.

“That and be a husband.”

“You weren’t scared of asking, it was the commitment that got you, I can understand it.”

“No, no," he shakes his head. "I didn’t think- I knew I wouldn’t be a good husband. I- everyone only saw the bad, my parents, Derek at times but she didn’t. She never did and that’s why I,” he lets out a tearful chuckle, “that’s why I fell for her. She saw the good no one else did and I screwed it up.”

Meredith hands him a tissue.

“You tell anyone about this, and I’ll let you observe one of my surgeries beside me.”

“I wasn’t but if you’re offering.”

The two chuckled.

-

Christina owlishly blinks, watching as you work on your last patient for the day as if nothing’s happened.

“How can she just put it all behind her?” George questions, sitting beside her.

“Having a nervous breakdown earlier in the day helps.”

“I feel like there should be someone sitting between us.”

The future cardiologist shrugs, “suit yourself.”

“You’re going to check on her after she’s done, right?”

“I’ll talk to her, if she opens up, good for her.”

A smile dances across his lips, happy that someone’s going to check on you; he likes you and admires your work, knowing you could be someone as well-known as Ellis Grey.

-

“Can you teach me your sutures?”

You ignore her and finish checking over your charts. “Yours are fine. Tell me the real reason you're bugging me.”

She purses her lips, not wanting to admit it out loud. “Are you okay?”

“You really want to know?”

She hesitates to nod. “I… do.”

“It sucks. Everything just… sucks. I don’t want to be here, but this is the only place that makes me feel calm.” You hand Marjorie the chart, smiling at her before returning to Christina. “I’m going to get through this. He’s going to find a nice girl and have the family he always wanted while I’ll still be here.”

“He’s going to go through girls like I go through tequila.”

“I know,” you grab your bag. “Which is why I know he’ll finally find his girl.”

She follows you until you reach the door. "What if it's you?"

A sad smile stretches across your lips. "He lost her."

”Forever?”

You shrug.

The resident stands there, unsure of what to do now.

-

You glance in his direction, wondering how many women he’s going to write down on the sheet. You hand yours back to Bailey, “I keep my life outside of work, unlike some people.”

Mark inwardly groans.

Bailey avoids making eye contact with him, she can’t continue to feel bad for him when he’s the one who messed things up (from what you told her).

You walk past the new residents, not in the mood to deal with them, especially with the girls fawning over Mark.

-

You sit down and watch his surgery, listening to the way he talks down to them.

You always told him he needs to slow down and be kind to them or else they won’t respect him but with everything that’s happened, you assume he’s a little bitter.

He always knows when you're watching and composes himself, but he can’t help and snap at the newbie (you don’t need to be talked about as if you’re a piece of meat). He glances up, catching your gaze.

You gulp, finding his soft expression he only used for you.

Everyone turns to you.

Two of the girls in orange start gossiping beside you.

“I have charts to look over. Come with me?” George asks.

You nod, finding it hard to keep your gaze off him but do so, only to inform the girls of some key information. “Keep talking like that and you two won’t find yourself off bedpan duty for a few months. Don’t talk about your superiors like that again."

The young faced one eyes widen and her face pales at your threat.

Mark can’t help but smirk behind his mask, always loving it when you straightened people out, if it was necessary.

-

"I see you two still aren’t talking.”

“Shut up, George.”

“Right, yeah. Got it.”

-

You try and ignore him again, which is when Derek steps in. “You should talk to him.”

“I know you two are all buddy buddy now, but I can’t do that. I can’t pretend like he didn’t break my heart in two. So, excuse me for ignoring your best friend."

He stops in front of you. “I need you to stop, think about this. What if you two don’t make amends and something happens? How would you feel? Think about how he would feel?”

“We’d be depressed, but eventually get over it, maybe be slutty for a few months and that’s the end of it.”

“That’s not a healthy way of dealing with your feelings and you know it.”

“I don’t care if it’s healthy or not. I have issues and I deal with them my way.”

“If you’d talk to him, maybe you’ll feel better.”

You roll your eyes and head into the prep station before you two head into surgery.

-

Bailey rolls her eyes, reaching for your phone. “Your phone keeps buzzing, doctor.”

You sigh, “does it look important?”

She leans closer, whispering, “it’s about your daughter.”

“Daycare or babysitter?”

“Babysitter. Fever, wants her mom.”

You take a deep breath and lean over to talk to your friend, “doctor Bailey’s going to take over. I need to go.”

“You’re leaving in the middle of a surgery?”

“I have to take care of something.”

“What?”

“My daughter.”

The staff in the OR got quiet, no one observing said anything.

You didn’t see the lights until it was too late.

-

“We got one adult in critical condition. One child with a minor bruising.”

Bailey and Owen are the first to arrive.

The woman’s eyes narrow to the familiar baby in Matt’s arms.

Owen steps forward. “What happened?”

“Car accident. Drunk ran a red light. Drivers side took more of the impact.”

“We need to get her checked out now.” The redhead pushes himself through, taking over one of the rooms. He tells the interns and fresh residents to prep a surgical room and put Christina on babysitting duty, leaving Jackson to follow him and Callie into the OR.

“I heard there was an accident,” Mark says, standing in the doorway. “I wanted to see if you needed any assistance?”

Callie glances at her ally in the room. “No, you should go check on Derek. I think I heard him calling for you.”

“When did he-"

“She’s coding,” Jackson interrupts.

“Crap! Avery, push one of epi.”

Everyone in the room prays for it to work and you to come back.

“Let me help,” he takes a step forward before being called away by one of the nurses.

-

He takes a sip of coffee, goes over the notes and overhears a few residents gossiping. His head whips in their direction. "Where'd you hear that?” He asks them, not accepting their answers.

They freeze. "Where did you hear that? Is she here?"

The group of residents’ glances at one another, unsure of what to say. "Who told you she's here?"

April had never worked with Mark before and seeing how freaked out he was over someone who wanted almost nothing to do with him, she felt bad; if someone she was in love with was hurt or worse, she'd want to know. "We- we saw her come in. They-"

He doesn't listen to anything else and takes off, running past Christina, who coddles the tear eyed, red faced toddler in her arms.

-

He runs straight towards Meredith, who's talking to Owen. "Where is she?"

The red head takes a step foward. "She's in surgery-"

"What room?"

"Sloan, you know I can't-"

He grabs Owen's scrubs by the collar and pulls him close. "I need to see her. I can't be here, waiting to see if she's dead or not. Tell me where she is."

The ex-vet slowly reaches for the man's hands. "Mark, I need you to calm down."

"How can I calm down when I just found out my fiancé is in surgery?"

-

Meredith takes a seat beside him, slumping against the wall, offering him a snack.

He shakes his head, closes his eyes and resting his head against the wall. "Have you heard anything?"

"No," she shakes her head. "I don't even know where she is."

"I just- what am I going to do if she's really-"

"Don't talk like that. She's not one to give up. She's-"

"A fighter?"

"Yeah."

Christina turns the corner, eyes wide. "Meredith?" She spots the two of them and runs towards them, inadvertently introducing your daughter to her father. "Mer. Mer. I need your help."

"Where did you get a baby?" She pushes herself off the floor. "Why do you have a baby?"

"Bailey put me on Kara duty and she won't stop crying."

"Whose baby, is it?"

That's when things got awkward.

Meredith's eyes widen, "no."

She nods.

Mark opens his eyes, glancing up. His eyes stop on the little girl, who glances his way.

She reaches for him. "Dada."

No one knew what to do.

"Oh my god," the two women muttered.

He pushes himself off the floor, staring at her. There's no mistaking it, she has your features, but she's got his eyes.

The little girl fusses in the woman's arms.

Mark easily slides her into his, his daughter settles into his arms, staring at him with those wide, curious eyes. "Mama?"

He gulps, "we have to wait a little bit before we see mama, okay?"

She nods and lays her head down on his chest.

He closes his eyes to keep his tears at bay, kissing the top of her head.

-

"She still loves you," Christina tells him.

He keeps his gaze on his girls and hums. "When you showed her the ring, she didn't say it was officially over for you two but she's still heartbroken over you and Addison getting together."

"I was getting ready to leave."

"What?"

"I grabbed my jacket and made sure I had the ring. I was- I wanted that night to go perfectly but then I opened the door, and she was there." He sighs.

"She let herself in and I tried to get her to leave but she wouldn't and then she kissed me. I told her I couldn't because I was about to become a proud married man," he bitterly chuckles.

"I told her no and she got upset because she knew she could always run to me but when she knew she couldn't anymore, she decided she wanted to love me. The way I wanted her to when we were younger. I accepted it, you know."

The woman nods.

"I accepted the fact that she chose Derek. He was a good choice."

"He was a safe choice, and she knew that."

Mark nods, "yeah and that's why I... tried to warn him before he proposed."

"You tried to warn him?"

"He's my best friend, I couldn't let him go into a marriage that was going to hurt him."

She chuckles, "that's ironic."

"Shut up, Yang."

"Go on."

"I gave into her because a part of me was scared- scared I was going to hear the rejection. No, I can't marry you because..."

"You're a manwhore?"

"Baby present and, yes. I didn't want my past to define my future but then, it did, and she left with Derek."

"Do you think Derek knew about," Christina gestures to the baby in his arms.

"Probably. I'm not happy I missed it but at least I know she had someone who could take care of her."

"Are you ever going to tell her?"

"If she'll listen."

Her pager beeps.

"Go, Yang. I'm not leaving."

Derek nods and steps into the room.

"You hear all that?"

His friend shrugs, "only the good parts."

"Funny."

"She was going to tell you before... everything happened but then she needed to get away and I did too-"

"So, she left without saying anything."

"If it means anything, she wrote a journal throughout the entire pregnancy, in case she passed, and Kara wanted to know about her mom."

He can tell by Mark's expression; he needs to explain.

"She was stressed throughout the entire pregnancy, and it was cause for concern. She had a few fainting spells and needed to stay home for a while. The doctor was making it seem like if she even went to the bathroom, she was going to lose Kara which scared her more than leaving you."

"Why?"

"If she lost Kara, it meant losing a piece of you which would have made her feel like it was officially over for the two of you."

Your heart monitor beeps. "Derek?"

His friend calms you down, checking you over before whispering that Mark and Kara are in the room.

You slowly turn your head, spotting them.

The father of your child smiles, relieved to see you awake. "Hey."

You spot your little girl tucked into his neck and tear up. You bring your hand up to your mouth to hide the sobs that want to escape.

Mark gestures for your guys' friend to exit so he can talk to you. He slowly pushes himself out of the chair, adjusting to the little girl. "Hey, hey," he brushes the few strands of hair out of your face, his thumb rubbing agaist your hairline. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Don't be. I'm just- I'm happy you're okay."

"I wanted to call you so many times."

"I know."

"I wanted you to be there."

"Where?"

"In the room," you whisper, staring into his eyes. "I didn't want her to be away from you but-"

He nods. "I know, I messed up. If I didn't- if it didn't happen, we could have been a family, and I will forever be sorry because you went through it alone."

Hearing your voice alerts the little girls’ ears and she squirms in his grasp.

He sets her feet on the open area near your arm, letting her turn around and launch herself into your arms. "Mama!"

"Oh, my sweet baby." You kiss the side of her head. "Mama missed you."

His heart swells at the sight of you two.

-

A few days later and you feel okay enough to be sent home.

You bid your goodbyes to everyone, even the newbies because they were nice enough to check in on you and make sure everything was okay. You step outside and take a deep breath.

"What do you think you're doing?"

A quiet moment ruined by your ex.

"I'm breathing, Mark. Can I do that, or do you need to make sure the weather's just right?"

He chuckles before getting out of the car. "You know your doctor gave you strict orders, I think you should be following them but that's just me."

You stare at him with a deadpan expression. "I got it, Mark. I know what I need to do, don't try and patronize me."

"I would never."

-

The residents huddle together, watching the two of you.

"How much do you want to bet that they're going to get back together?" Christina asks.

Jackson nods, "I'll take that bet."

Meredith stares at the two of them.

"You two are awful," April adds.

"Yes, but we'll be bad people with money," the future cardiologist tells her with a sarcastic smile.

Derek stops at the desk, taking a sip of his coffee before making his way to the group. "Okay, if we're all done gawking at two grown adults trying to move past their differences, can we get back to work?"

"You're no fun. I remember when you were having fun."

"You want to scrub in on my surgery, Dr. Yang?"

"Let's go have fun. See yah, Mer."

-

You make it through the door of your place and wait for it. "Say it."

"What?" He closes the door, setting the stroller by the door as he unbuckles Kara.

"I know you're judging, so, out with it. I'm not going to pretend as if you don't want to say something because you do."

"I don't," he notices the look you're giving him. "I... like it."

"You hesitated even finishing that sentence."

"I did not."

"Did too."

"Mama!"

You two glance down at the little girl, wanting attention and out of her father's grasp. You gently take her from him and wander into the kitchen, scouring through the cabinets to figure out what kind of things you could have as a snack.

This is what he wants, he wants this life: the one where you're not mad at him, and he can watch his daughter grow while you look amazing at being a mom.

He gulps down what little saliva he has in his mouth and takes a hesitant step closer to you. "What are we feeling?"

You hum, "I don't know, little miss here can't decide on what she wants."

"I can make something," he meekly offers, unsure if this is too much or not.

"What can you make? Last time I checked all you knew was protein smoothies and even then, that wasn't the best."

He scoffs, "I know how to cook, and you know it. You forget who made you dinner for our second date."

You open your mouth to respond but don't have it in you when you think about the good times you two had. Your gaze drops.

He feels bad but he can't pretend as if your romantic past doesn't exist. "I was so worried I messed up with that dinner."

"Really?"

"Of course, I was cooking for the most beautiful girl within a five-mile radius of my house. I was more than nervous."

"Good."

-

You step out of the room and start cleaning up, only for Mark to stop you and grab everything you pick up.

"I told you not to do anything. I got this."

You lean over the couch and watch him wander around your place. "Do you..."

"What?" He glances up, staring at you with kind eyes, wanting to hear what you have to say.

"Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if it didn't happen?"

"I know we'd be married with at least one other kid now."

"I'm serious."

"I don't want to focus on the past."

You scoff, rolling your eyes.  "Says the man who always wanted to ask about my exes."

-

You don't even know how it happened but here you are. You pull away, needing to breathe before continuing.

"Are you sure about this?"

You stare into his eyes, for what feels like an eternity. "I'm sure. I want this. Please," you beg.

His lips curve upwards, "who am I to deny you a fun time?"

You keep him at arm’s length, "that comment makes me want to rethink this whole thing."

"No, it doesn't."

You grumble and pull him back in for a kiss.

Meredith immediately closes the door, regretting not checking before opening. "Seriously you guys?"

You reach for your shirt and cover your mouth to hide your giggles, Mark turns to you with a smirk. "How do you know we weren't trying to invite you?"

"Because you know better."

Your eyes widen.

"Hey, Bailey," he says with a cool tone.

"You two better be out of there in the next five minutes or-"

You open the door and run past the two. "See yah, Bails. See yah, Mer."

Mark stays there flabbergasted at how quickly you ran out the door, leaving him to deal with her.

-

He closes the door just as you finish making dinner. "You are evil."

You stick your bottom lip out, "I don't think so, I made dinner. I'm going to be feeding you, I'd consider that to be something nice."

"You left me to deal with that- that woman alone."

"I left you with Bails, you were fine."

"I was not fine. I was far from fine."

You click your tongue, "stop exaggerating."

"I'm not and you know it."

"Okay," you groan. "I'm sorry. I left you with Bailey and that wasn't nice."

"It wasn't." He wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your chest.

"I said sorry, don't be like this."

"I think I'm going to need a little more in order to forgive you."

You lean into him as you settle into his arms.

The monitor goes off and you're brought back to the reality of you being in the arms of your ex.

You push yourself out of his grasp and walk towards her room. "Hey, pumpkin."

She holds her arms out for you.

You pick her up, "how's my little baby?"

She babbles a response. "Dada?"

"He's still here, checking on dinner. Your favorite."

"Maccheese!"

You chuckle, "yeah."

"There's my favorite girl," he smiles at the happy little girl.

You observe the way they interact with a heavy heart, knowing you can't continue doing this with him.

-

"What happened?" Christina asks, practicing new sutures on a banana.

"Nothing happened-"

"You're not sleeping with McSteamy, something happened."

"I just- I realized we need to not fall back into old habits."

"Do you still love him?"

You hesitate to answer.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Of course, of course I still love him, but I can't be in love with him-"

"Because he was an adulterous whore?"

"Yeah."

"Have you seen him with anyone else?"

"I didn't need to see anything if all the girls talked about him?"

"Did you ever think maybe they lied? Maybe they're jealous of the fact that you have a hot guy fawning over you and only you. What else would they do other than gossip?"

"How am I supposed to believe that?"

"Have you ever talked to him?"

"I'm scared."

"So is he."

"I don't want to get hurt again."

"He wouldn’t want to lose you again."

"Christina?"

"Yeah?"

"You're wise beyond your years."

-

You run to him, pulling him into the break room.

He attempts to get up. "Shut up and let me talk."

You take a deep breath, "I want to be with you, like we were before but we're not those people anymore. And- and I want you to be in Kara's life so you can watch her grow up but this," you gesture between the two of you.

"This can only work if we're honest and you don't leave me for a quick lay or else, I will put you in an OR and change things about you. I will not put myself or Kara on the line if you're not going to give us your all."

He nods, taking in everything you've said. He pushes himself off the couch and walks towards you and pulls you in for a hug. "I'm never letting you go," he mumbles into your hair. "Living without you was the worst time of my life."

Mark pulls away, cupping your cheek, staring into your eyes. "If you let me into your lives, I promise not to mess it up because you two are too important to me and I don't know if I'd be able to live without you."

You sniffle, chuckling at his dorky smile. "Then don't be an idiot and kiss me."

-

"Finally," Christina turns around, pointing to everyone. "You all owe me money."

"Us."

"You owe Mer and I money."

Derek makes his way towards them. "What are we looking at?" He smiles, "good, it's about time he got his act together."

[violetmina]

Chokehold - Ch. 11

Chokehold Masterlist

Accepting taglist requests!

Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 @haibara-ai-tsii @123passwort @sanscas @lulzbrokenbyfantasy @icantevenchoose @marksassybanana @a-rogue-tiddy-bot​ @itsyellow​ @lmarina2000​ @d3adite666 @casualfansoul @missrandomheart @cvstle @elianamarie-blog @1970sbitch @depressed-but-make-it-cute @loversjoy @raktajinoaddict @trisaratops-mcgee

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,623

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until he gives you something else to remember.

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

Until his phone buzzes loudly in his pocket.

“Billy…”

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

Another buzz.

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

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

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

“What did he say?”

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

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

“...No.”

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

You look up at him, shaking your head.

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

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

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

“Care to elaborate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a good way to go.”

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

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

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

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

^^^

“We got one!”

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

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

“Cordycep?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Butcher knows,” Hughie deadpans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

^^^

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kimiko signs before Frenchie grins, “Research purposes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any clues what it's for?,” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not likely, the little voice huffs.

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

You nod.

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

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

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

“You're not staying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ Christ, Frenchie…”

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

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

“Why?,” you play along.

“To not laugh at these two boring fuckers!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lil’ Red Riding Hood

You sure are looking good

You're everything a big bad wolf could want.

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

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

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

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

^^^

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucker.

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

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

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

[literatureloverx]

To frame this analysis, I want to first point out a letter written by fyodor. For a letter most don't have access to, it puts into perspective a LOT about fyodor's character that was previously only speculated through analysis. It was given out during the manga's 10 year anniversary, you can search it up by typing 'fyodor letter bsd'.

But I will copy it here: "I have nothing to say. There is no one who supported me anyway. That's why there is no word I have to say. To anyone at all. Let alone words of celebration. It is impossible. I have always been alone. And that is fine by me. Has been, and always will be. Well... I felt a little less bored when I was playing chess with Dazai-kun. But that's it."

Now this points out something especially interesting, that out of all the people that served him, all the people who worshipped him through his manipulation, for hundreds and hundreds of his years of living, Fyodor found no substance through any of it. Fyodor is lonely, inevitably lonely not only because he has never let anyone into his mind (and uh. Not many people want to hang out with the guy who straps bombs onto kids), but because near nobody can understand him because, as pretentious as it sounds, he lives in a realm of "genius".

Fyodor lives in a world of sin that he sees himself as above, and wishes to find the book and write a "correct" world under God where there is no sin. And he also lives in a world he is bored of because nobody can challenge him. He explicitly uses the word "bored" in his letter. He is never shown to "like" his servants being completely submissive for pleasure, he just does it because he cannot trust anything straying. Now does this mean Fyodor wants to control those around him? Yes. Does this show that Fyodor finds this obedience engaging? No.

The only person he has shown interest in (not in a romantic way) is Dazai, who is the only one who can level at his playing field. This makes me wonder, is Fyodor's "type" someone far from who he would actually fall for? I feel that to grow interested in someone, Fyodor needs someone who can challenge him. Someone out of his control because they understand him on a level that others cannot, because they are on his equal. Fyodor left his life of boredom through one-sided "companionship" with Dazai.

Note: I find it kinda pathetic of Fyodor to seem so eager about their meet-ups too, since Dazai seems to hate it LMAO

Now I can see Fyodor WANTING to control someone for that safety net and I definitely can't see him going out of his way to get with someone if they're in the way of what he's after, no matter how much he loves them. Bro straight up tries to kill his favorite "chess partner". But it seems that if Fyodor ever wants to pursue a GENUINE relationship, he needs to leave his comfort zone because the only ones who will give him substance will be far outside.

This wasn't meaning any hate or anything, I just wanted to point out traits about Fyodor's character that i've observed, but also to hear your thoughts :D

(Also I can see Fyodor falling for not only someone who can challenge him but someone with a great love for humanity and empathy)

Wow, this was so detailed and awesome to read! Thank you very much for writing this. ❤️

I will break down my perspective on this analysis as you asked me to, but I can say that I agree with most of your points. ❤️

First of all, I know the letter you’re talking about. It actually made me sob for a while when I first read it. I felt the loneliness almost in my own body—the situation he’s in must be so dehumanizing for him.

That being said, I considered many of Asagiri’s explanations about the characters (the letter you cited, the one about White Day, their ideal types, etc.) and formed my interpretation of Fyodor this way.

I absolutely agree with the point that Fyodor is bothered by boredom and that he needs someone who can challenge him.

The question here is, what kind of challenge?

In this case, my point was: someone who can challenge him emotionally (as this is an underdeveloped aspect of his, since he really doesn’t have much opportunity to form meaningful connections with others). Not someone who matches his own mastermind (like Dazai, for example). He values Dazai's ability to read his mind but is not particularly invested in any kind of connection besides that of rivals since he can’t trust him. There is no longing for friendship (a meaningful connection) there. Just Do, Do, Do, and win.

Now, I also believe, like you said, since his motives are not bound to himself but rather the greater good of humanity, the most important thing for him to do is indeed—to win. How is he supposed to cleanse humanity of their sins otherwise?

Where my interpretation differs from yours is that I genuinely think he is very comfortable with being the lead in any kind of situation. What he is uncomfortable with is—guess what? Vulnerability, in general. Just like Dazai. And the most challenging vulnerability to overcome, in my interpretation, would be emotional vulnerability.

In my opinion, he would be interested in someone who can challenge him mentally but not strategically. He knows that feeling. It is true that Dazai quenches his thirst for competence and competition in that sense, but is such a person truly fit for Fyodor?

My main issue with a strategically competent partner is the high possibility of Fyodor never being able to fully trust her. I’ve read many headcanons and fanfictions about him and such a partner, but it never really clicked in my mind.

The aspect of him preferring an intelligent individual over a shallow one is, I think, a very common perception of his character in the fandom, which I wholeheartedly agree with.

But: emotional intelligence is a very powerful aspect of intelligence, as well.

Him wanting to control her for security reasons is absolutely valid in my opinion and interpretation too, since it was what I meant in the first place anyway. He wouldn’t manipulate his partner just for the sake of it—he is too deep of a character for that.

Overall, I hope I haven’t missed any of the aspects you were referring to. I’ll gladly edit my post if anything is missing! ❤️

In conclusion, I LOVED your analysis. I’m very glad when someone makes me think deeper about my own thought process and interpretations. Anything of that kind is deeply welcomed and appreciated! ❤️

To read my other works => MASTERLIST

[number1mingyustan]

She's Kinda Hot Tho ☾

Warnings: cursing, explicit smut, unprotected sex, age gap (reader is 30 and chan is 20) mommy kink, switch!dino, switch!reader, nipple play, tittyfucking, mentions of oral (f. + m.), multiple orgasms, mentions of porn, reader is described to have big boobs, he's so pussy drunk

Summary: The woman of his dreams is right across the way and he's got to have a taste

Word Count: 2.7k

_______________________________________________

Chan had lost interest in girls his age a long time ago. Look through his search history of hours and hours of 'MILF porn' and anyone could see that he loved his older women.

He himself can't really explain his infatuation, he just knows he loves them. He's gotten lucky a few times too, successfully catching the eye of an older woman and scoring a chance to spend the night.

But oh, his life grew 10x better when he moved right across from you.

It was his sophomore year of college and he was now able to live off campus. He and three of his friends found an apartment near campus and they happened to move in across the hall from you.

The first time he ever laid eyes on you, you were standing outside your door. You were looking down, mail in hand and dripping in sweat. You were in nothing but a sports bra and a pair of leggings. Must've just finished one of those soul cycle or pilates classes.

Safe to say he popped a boner almost instantly and had to rush into his apartment unnoticed. Holy shit you were the sexiest woman he'd ever laid eyes on. The leggings hugged your body perfectly and that sports bra was doing a poor job of covering your tits.

It was an image that would surely remain etched in his mind forever.

____

After that day it felt like he saw more of you, and it was extremely hard to ignore your presence. It seemed like every time he was outside of his apartment, you were too.

He finally met you formally in the elevator one day. You were both going up from the lobby. He'd gotten in first, and you burst through the doors yelling 'wait!' just as they were closing.

He reached his hand out, preventing the door from closing so you could come in.

Safe to say there were all kinds of 'stuck in the elevator' fantasies he was playing out in his head with you that left him caged in the corner of the box trying to cover up the way his pants started to grow tighter. He kept his distance, but his mind and his eyes seemed to be doing the opposite.

It was a short ride up, but to him it felt like forever. It was awkwardly silent until you decided to speak up.

"You live across the way right?" You asked.

"Huh?" Your sudden conversation takes him out of his little daze.

"I'm in 408 and I've seen you around, right across from me, right?" You asked, turning and looking at him.

"Oh yeah... think I've seen you around too. I'm still kind of new to the building. Couple friends and I are living here because it's close to campus," he replied.

"Hmm... guess that makes us neighbors." You grinned. "Y/n." You stated. "And you are?"

"Oh um uh... Chan. My friends call me Dino," he introduced himself.

You smiled. "Well what do you want me to call you?"

Oh fuck. It's such an innocent question, but he's so dirty minded and turned on that it leaves his mind racing.

"Oh um.. Dino-Dino's good," he cleared his throat.

The door finally opened and he felt like he's not suffocating anymore. You didn't even get to say a proper 'goodbye' before he rushed out of the elevator and darted toward his apartment.

______

About a week later, you showed up at his door. To say the least, he wasn't expecting company when he showed up at the door shirtless with grey sweats hanging low off his hips. His blonde hair is messy on his head as he leans against the door frame.

"Oh um... hi," he clears his throat.

"I'm so glad you're here," you smile. "I didn't know if I was going to catch you or one of your roommates, but I need help with something."

"I can help," he offers. "What do you need me for?"

You give him a shy smile, looking him up and down. "Um, we'll have to go outside so...."

He looks down at himself, remembering that he's not wearing a shirt. "Oh my bad," he apologizes nervously. He closes the door to his apartment, leaving you alone momentarily. The door opens again and he stands there, properly dressed.

You lead him into your apartment. He enters your living space with a million thoughts running through his mind. He's actually here in your apartment and damn, it's nice.

The way you've decorated your home is extremely different from the hellhole he lives in. In all fairness, he's a guy living with 3 other twenty year olds.

"Excuse the mess," you say.

His eyes scan the apartment. Mess? Clearly you haven't seen a real mess. Just about everything seems to be in order. He fears how you would react if you stepped foot in his home. The only thing he can see out of place is a few boxes and.... oh.

Your underwear is lying on the middle of the living room floor. Granted, the laundry basket is right next to it, but he can clearly see the lacy black material from where he stands. There's no way you did that on purpose... right? Your apartment is far too clean for you to carelessly leave a pair of panties in the middle of the living room.

He's mentally cursing and yelling at himself not the let his mind wander. But he can't help himself. He's already picturing it, you in the thing and revealing fabric.

"Yeah so I'm moving some stuff into storage... but the boxes are kind of heavy so I was hoping you could help me carry them to my car," you snap him out of his little daze.

"S-Sure no problem," he says.

He's quick to pick up one of the boxes, attempting to cover his semi hard-on. Although the box he lifts is surprisingly light. Nonetheless, he follows behind you as you lead him to your car outside.

It takes three trips to transport all the boxes. All of the boxes ended up being a much easier carry than he expected. He loads the last one into the trunk of your car before closing it.

"All done," he smiles at you.

"Thank you," you brush your hand against his shoulder. It's an innocent touch really, but it makes his heart rate skyrocket.

"N-No problem really," he stutters out.

The two of you make your way back inside the apartment building. The entire time you actually have pleasant conversation with one another. He finds out that you moved here about a year and a half ago after a nasty divorce.

You didn't have any kids of your own, but when you were with your ex husband, he already had a kid that you basically raised as your own. You keep talking about other things, but he somewhat tunes it out, only really thinking about the fact that you are very attractive and now confirmed to also be very single.

You ride the elevator up to the third floor together once again. He walks you back to your apartment and you think him again.

"You want something to drink? It's the least I can do for your help...."

He hesitates. Are you.... flirting with him? Those boxes weren't that heavy, and he's not just thinking that to fuel his own ego. You could've done it on your own, easily and now you're inviting him back into your apartment.

He can't tell if he's being crazy and overthinking.

"Sure."

______________

"Oh fuck," he moans as you sink down onto his cock.

He wasn't being crazy, not at all. The moment he stepped back into your apartment, you pinned him against the wall and kissed him. You pushed him down to his knees so he could eat you out... twice. And now he's on your bed naked and you're about to ride him.

You tilt your head back, letting out a breathy moan as he fills you up. He stretch of his cock feels so good inside of you. You're already starting to feel the effects of overstimulation from him the two orgasms he gave you in his tongue earlier.

"Shit-oh shit," he moans once he's buried fully inside of you. His body falls limp against the bed and he allows you to completely take over.

You start moving your hips, tits bouncing in his face. He can't take his attention off of them, feeling himself grow more and more turned on with each passing moment.

Each roll of your hips feels so good and you're relentless with your pace. Your pussy squeezes around him incredibly. It feels so good, too good. He can already feel himself losing it.

And he does. He lifts you up off his cock, stroking his length until he cums on your inner thigh. He lets out a long groan as he covers your skin with his cum.

"Did you just...?" you start to ask.

He'd be embarrassed if he wasn't already getting hard again. He simply nods before lifting you back up and aligning his cock with your entrance.

"Yeah... just keep going..." he groans.

You're stunned, but nonetheless you sink back down onto his cock. He meets you halfway this time, thrusting his hips in sync with yours. His cock drills deeper inside of you, tip pushing against that one spot inside of you that drives you crazy.

Neither of you are quiet, moaning and groaning with pleasure nonstop.

You push him down on the bed, riding him like a toy. You treat him like your personal dildo, riding his cock like you own it. Your tits continue to bounce in his face, making him nearly go cross-eyed.

He reaches his hands up to touch, but you swat them away,. "No touching."

He lets out a frustrated groan, sinking his head deeper into the pillow. He wants you so bad, all of you. He needs to touch you. He can't help himself. He just wants to feel your tits, maybe slip one of them into his mouth and suck on one of them.

He tries again, reaching his arms up to grab your soft tits. But again, you grab his hands. "I said no touching."

"Fuck... please. Just let me feel 'em," he moans.

You ignore him, tightening your grip on his hands. His eyes roll back into his head and he lets out a shaky breath.

"M-Mommy please..." he moans.

The sudden name shocks you and you let out a gasp. Hearing it sends a wave through your body. You weren't expecting it in the slightest, but it's absolutely turning you on. However, he's too caught up in pleasure to fully process what he just said. He just lies there, basically whimpering with his eyes trained on your tits.

You start moving your hips faster. "Fuck, say it again."

"W-What?"

"Say it again and I'll let you touch me," you pant.

"Fuck... let me touch you mommy. So fucking hot..." he moans. "Please mommy,"

You're already getting close again. You move his hands, placing them on your tits and upholding your promise. His eyes roll back into his head once he finally cops a feel. He sits up, pushing his face closer to your tits.

"G-Gonna cum soon," you warn him.

He latches his mouth onto one of your tits, tongue circling your nipple as he sucks on your soft flesh. You don't stop the rocking of your hips, even when your orgasm approaches.

You moan loudly, calling his name like a chant as you experience your high. He follows not long after, lifting you off his lap again and allowing his cum to spill on the outside of your pussy.

He licks his lips as he watches your swollen folds get painted white. You both sit there breathlessly, dripping in sweat and cum. You need a moment to catch your breath and fully come down. Your folds are already swollen and sensitive and you're ready to lie down.

But it's not over.

He moves quickly, lifting off his lap and pinning you on the bed beneath him. He spits on his cock before pushing it back into you.

You're not sure how he still has the energy and stamina for this. Surely his cock is overly sensitive now. You're already overstimulated from your third orgasm, and you were sure he was done for.

He pins your hands above your head as he ruts his hips inside of you. His thrusts are sloppy, but his cock is drilling into you perfectly. He's rough and needy, oozing desperation with every thrust of his hips.

Your tits continue to bounce as he fucks you, once again capturing his attention.

He can feel himself getting close again, dangerously close. If he doesn't stop now, he'll cum inside of you. But fuck, it feels so good he doesn't know if he can stop.

"S-Shit," he moans. "Gotta fuck those tits."

He finds it in himself to pull out. You both hiss at the sudden loss of contact, but he acts quickly.

He pushes his cock between the swell of your breasts. His cock slips between your tits easily considering your arousal is still coating his length.

You push your tits together, making the crevice tighter and it sends him into overdrive. He's fucking your tits recklessly, hips stuttering and moving like a bitch in heat.

"Cumming- ah fuck! Mommy I'm cumming!" he cries out.

He keeps moving his hips, thrusting his cock along the sweaty softness of your skin. He finally loses it altogether, rolling his eyes into the back of his head as he shoots his cum onto your tits. Some of it goes onto your face, most of it dripping down along your nipples.

He feels dizzy, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

"What the fuck," he breathes out.

What the hell have you done to him? He's never experienced something like that before. Yeah he's been with older women before, but calling them mommy? He's not even sure where it came from, you just sort of brought it out of him.

He's never had sex as intense as that, but all he knows is that he wants to do it again. One time and he already knows you've ruined him.

You simply giggle breathlessly, raking your fingers through his damp hair. Once you both fully come down, you shower together and he ends up spending the night.

You watch movies together until you both fall asleep. The next morning he wakes up hard and after a blowjob and three more rounds, he finally goes back to his apartment.

_______

"He did it," Soonyoung suddenly announces.

"Seriously?" Minghao's head appears over the couch as he turns around.

"No way," Jun echoes.

"I'm so serious, he actually did it," Soonyoung deadpans.

"How do you know?" Jun asks.

"I saw him go into her apartment yesterday when I was leaving and he hasn't been back yet... he definitely did it," Soonyoung explains and plops down on the couch.

"Oh shit... he's still over there?" Minghao asks.

"Pretty sure... he'll probably walk back over here any minute with that stupid grin," Soonyoung says.

Almost on cue, the doorknob twists and Dino walks into his shared apartment. He's trying so hard not to smile and make it obvious that he just had the best night (and morning) of his life, but he can't help but let a small grin escape from his pursed lips. All three of his roommates are staring at him from behind the couch.

He stands there like a deer in headlights as his roommates all stare him down.

"So where have you been?" Minghao asks with a smirk.

"Out," Dino says shortly, trying to avoid conversation.

"All night? It's nearly noon, that's a long time," Soonyoung asks.

"I wasn't gone that long... I left this morning when you guys were all asleep," Dino lies.

"That's so odd because... I saw you leave yesterday. It was still evening then," Soonyoung raises an eyebrow.

"That's weird because... you weren't home yesterday evening. I was the only one here," Dino states.

"I forgot my wallet when I left to go to work, and when I was on my way back I'm pretty sure I saw you leaving the apartment... wearing those exact sweatpants too," Soonyoung grins. "Jun he was wearing those sweatpants when you left too... right?"

"Oh yeah... now that I think about it, he was," Jun grins.

Knowing he's been caught, Dino simply gives up on defending himself. "Screw all of you!"

"Dude you fucked the hot neighbor, and older woman might I remind you? Did you think we weren't going to find out eventually," Soonyoung points out.

"Whatever," Dino says with a grin.

"You're really not gonna tell us how it went?" Minghao teases.

"Nope," Dino says and starts walking toward his room. "All you need to know is that she made me breakfast this morning and said she wants to see me again"

"Damn dude," Jun breathes out.

"See you fuckers later," he says as he makes his exit.

He enters his room, closing his door behind him and pulling out his phone. The first thing he does is text you.

'so when can i see u again?'

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[boy-comics]

RENT-FREE

── .✦ pairing; ♭form!o.de x gn!reader

── .✦ summary; chance leads you to oh seungmin. something else leads to you stay.

── .✦ word count; ~4.7k

── .✦ tags; swearing, mentioned family issues, discussions of death, fluff, hurt/comfort, romantic tension, roommates to friends to lovers(??), seungmom™, takes place in the "real" world

── .✦ a/n; ahahaha (lying in a ditch)

After graduating, getting a job, moving out, and doing all the other things one needs to do to be considered a real adult, you realize something: pride, that bright, delicate thing that you've clung to all these years, means very, very little.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's just until I find another apartment. I won't even argue with him anymore, Mama—"

"Honey, I'm sorry, but you should know why I can't trust you to do that."

You stare at your phone screen, the call time climbing up ever slowly. Your mother continues talking, her voice tinny through the speaker, trying to soothe your irritation without giving in, but you can feel your thoughts growing pricklier and pricklier with each reasoning.

Just kick him out for a little while, you want to yell at her, don't you care about your own kid having a roof over their head? Why choose that deadbeat over me?

"So what am I supposed to do, then, Mama? My roommate's gone and I can't pay rent all on my own. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know either. I'll ask around and see if anyone can help you out. But this is adulthood, honey; things like this happen, and you just need to figure out what to do."

If you could afford it, you'd throw your phone against the wall.

"… I know. Thanks, Mama. Talk to you later."

"Make sure to eat, honey."

Pressing the end call button, you drop your phone on your bed and scream into your pillow.

—

What you end up doing, all by yourself, is break your lease early and shoulder the penalty fees. Then you pack up what little belongings you have and camp out at an old classmate's place (just until your next paycheck at the most, you had promised), and work and search for apartments and search for roommates and sleep and eat and work again.

Your mother calls just as you're looking up motel prices. You don't want to pick up, but again, pride means very, very little.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hi. Are you still looking for a place?"

"Yep."

"Okay, good. I was talking to Oh Seungmin's mother. You remember him, don't you? You went to the same high school. He was on the basketball team."

Your brow furrows. "Oh Seungmin?"

"So you do remember him."

"… Yes."

You're sure he doesn't remember you, though. Oh Seungmin had always belonged to a different crowd than yours, a really different crowd, even if you did walk to and from the same neighborhood together for a brief time. If your mother is suggesting what you think she's suggesting, you must be thinking wrong, somehow.

"He lives somewhere near where you work. His mother talked to him, and he's willing to let you stay with him until you find something more permanent."

You blink.

"Honey? What do you think?"

"I—uh." Your cursor continues to hover over the room price typed in bold on your laptop, and as you absorb what has just been offered, it drifts down to the corner of the screen. "How much would I need to pay?"

"Ah. I forgot to ask. She gave me his number to give to you just in case, though, so just ask him. It's—"

You type down the number and save it, praying to whatever lives upstairs that this isn't the beginning of some awful cosmic joke.

—

You move into Oh Seungmin's place on a late Sunday morning in May.

"Do you need help unpacking?"

"No, it's okay." You gesture vaguely at your suitcase, backpack, and laundry basket of bed things. "This is it."

Seungmin nods, his eyes flitting between the three things containing your entire life. There is a smile on his face, small and polite but awkward, like he's entertaining a surprise guest despite having expected you for the past three days. "Oh, okay. Cool."

You smile back, just as awkward. This Seungmin is slightly different from what you remember. High school Seungmin was more outgoing, a star athlete and the dream of every girl in your class. In this small apartment in the shadier part of the city, he seems more subdued, a little lonelier around the edges. Or maybe that's only because it's you.

He is still absurdly good-looking, though.

"I didn't know if you were okay with the couch or a futon mattress, so both are out. I have extra pillows if you need them … you don't have a closet, so we could buy a foldable one or something and put it in the corner if you want."

"I'm okay with the futon mattress. And it's fine—I'll just keep things in my suitcase. I won’t be in your hair for long, anyway."

"All right." His fingers tap an oddly controlled rhythm along the side of his thigh—not that you were already looking, you just catch the movement at the edge of your vision—and then he clears his throat. "Well, I'll let you get your stuff unpacked. I made some curry rice so we can eat afterwards. Hopefully you'll like it. I think you told me it was your favorite, once, a long time ago."

Some of the ice on your tongue melts.

"It still is."

His smile cracks open a bit wider, a bit more genuinely. "Really? Nice. I'll get everything set up, then."

"I'll be quick."

The living room and the kitchen are squeezed together with no divider, so you are graced with the ambiance of clinking ceramic bowls and silverware while you set your things out to organize them. The faint smell of curry and rice that you had detected when you had first stepped foot into this home intensifies with the sound of the microwave running.

Eating lunch with Oh Seungmin is a simple affair that grows more comfortable with time. You go over the house rules and contributions again, and it's funny, you find, the way the two of you agree on things so easily despite not having talked in years. Then again, it is only the first day.

"There is one thing, though," Seungmin says, taking your plate along with his to rinse them in the sink. "I have a synthesizer and record a lot of music for work. I'll keep my door closed, but if you're here and it bothers you, just tell me. I'll use headphones."

"Oh," you say, surprised. You don't remember Seungmin having a strong interest in music. A synthesizer. That's interesting. "Okay, I'll let you know." A thought hits you and you ask conversationally, "Do you use ♭form at all?"

You don't have an account yourself, having put it off time and time again. Conversation, that's all you had intended. But as soon as you mention ♭form, it's like the shutters close, and Seungmin's tone shifts from open and friendly into something strange and even guarded.

"Sometimes. Just the audience and solo modes, though."

He changes the subject after that. Of course, you still can't help but wonder for the rest of the day, especially when he disappears into his room for the rest of the afternoon, strange and beautiful music trickling out from underneath the door.

—

Seungmin tells you that it's been a while since he's had people stay over, but despite his modesty, you find him to be a wonderful roommate.

"Are you done using the glass cleaner?"

"Yeah, it's in here."

Heading to the bathroom, you spot Seungmin dutifully spraying the shower with cleaner and hold your breath, grabbing the glass cleaner from its place on the floor and stepping back out quickly.

"Did you find it?"

"Yeah, it was right there," you say.

He turns around to check, and you can't help but grin. Standing like that in the bathroom, he almost looks like a harried mom, old baggy shirt tucked into equally worn sweatpants, hair messy, a mask covering the lower half of his face and large yellow gloves covering his hands. When he raises his eyebrows, you snort.

"What?"

"You look like a mom."

"Finish your chores," he says sternly, even waggling his head, and you laugh again before leaving to wipe the windows.

Cleaning day is surprisingly mellow in your temporary home. Seungmin has the bathroom and his bedroom while you take the kitchen and living room, and you're both quite efficient. The initial awkwardness at the beginning has eased significantly over the past week, and if you were feeling optimistic, you'd say that the two of you are friendlier now than you were as students—even if he does spend a lot of time in his room.

"Hey, you wanna do something after this?" Seungmin calls out. You hear the shower turn on, followed by the sound of water splashing over the walls.

"Like what?"

"We could shoot some hoops."

"Ha-ha, that's funny."

"Well, now we have to go shoot some hoops." You make a face, and even though he can't see it, Seungmin tacks on, "I'll buy you garlic cheese bread after."

"How many?"

"One plus one more for each basket you make."

Well. That's an offer you can't refuse. "Deal."

"Okay. After I clean the toilet, I'm gonna shower and then we can head out."

You finish vacuuming and mopping the floors by the time he comes out of the bathroom, hair toweled to a curly dampness and no longer smelling like bleach. He looks like a young, fashionable man again, and you think that it might have been a little easier to talk to him when he was masked up and rubber-gloved.

"Ready?"

"I'll still get one free garlic cheese bread even if I miss all the shots, right?"

"Yes, but you can't be that bad at basketball."

"Try me."

There's a basketball court about ten minutes away from the apartment complex that Seungmin frequents. There's another one that's closer, newer, but upon passing by and asking about it, you're told that he avoids that court because it's too popular.

"Isn't it better to play with a group of people?" you question.

He shrugs, head turning away from you. "I just like to do my own thing when I'm here."

(It strikes you as a bit odd, but you keep that thought to yourself.)

"We're here." Seungmin dribbles the ball for a few seconds, then passes it to you. "You remember some stuff from gym class, don't you?"

"I mean, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can do it," you retort, passing the ball back. "Why don't you give an example and I copy it?"

Your companion turns and promptly shoots the basketball towards the hoop. It cuts a majestic arc through the air before falling through the hoop with a devastatingly clean swoosh.

You stare as he jogs down to fetch the ball, returning with a self-satisfied grin. "Okay, well, don't expect that kind of technique from me. I'm fine with my one bread."

"No, I'm going to make sure you get at least two. Here." Seungmin comes closer, plopping the basketball into your outstretched palms. "Just dribble it a little and pass it back and forth so you can get the feel for it."

You slowly bounce the ball on the concrete. It's haphazard, coming back up at different angles with no discernible rhythm, but you can actually keep it up for more than ten seconds. Clapping his hands, Seungmin shouts encouragement and gestures for you to pass it to him.

"What were you talking about? You're fine at this." The ball travels between the two of you several times before he points to the hoop. "Try to shoot."

Emboldened, you cradle the basketball in your dominant hand and stare up at the hoop. Aiming at the backboard, you launch it with a quiet grunt.

The ball hits the rim and shoots off to the side.

"... That's okay, that's okay! Try again."

You feel like the kid winning a pity prize at school. It really shouldn't be a big deal, with you being a whole-ass adult and all, but you can't prevent the frustration that roils up anyway as Seungmin tosses the ball back to you.

"I'm just going to miss."

"You won't know unless you try, right?"

When you roll your eyes at his sage-like wisdom, he sighs, circling around to stand behind you.

His arms come around to adjust yours into the right position, and you nearly choke on your own spit.

"Keep your shooting arm close." He taps the inside of your foot with the toe of his shoe. "Feet shoulder width apart, knees bent, 'cause the power comes from your legs. Your other hand is just there to guide. And follow through."

His voice is soft against your ear. You swallow dryly, only daring to breathe again when he steps away.

Oh, no.

"That easy, huh?" you croak, bending your knees.

"If you want it to be."

You shoot the ball. It soars upward—downward—hits the backboard, rolls along the orange rim and falls through the net.

You and Seungmin stare for a moment. Then Seungmin nudges you with his elbow and holds out his fist.

"Yo, yo, yo! Good job, [Y/n]-ssi!"

Your eyes roll again as you bump fists with him, but it's bashful this time, and you hate how exposed it makes you feel. "You're a literal mom and dad rolled into one."

"Does that make you my offspring?"

"Sure would beat being the offspring of my actual parents." You wince as soon as the joke leaves your mouth.

"Oh."

Seungmin blinks, and laughs a bit, but it's so obviously unsure that everything that's been going so right today veers into complete fuckup territory.

You dig your hands into your pockets and scuff your shoes. "... Sorry. Shitty joke."

"Ah, it's fine ..."

And yet, neither of you say anything more.

Shit.

While you rub your arms, hobbling towards the basketball rolling steadily towards the grass, you hear Seungmin follow. The scrape of his shoes against the asphalt peters out as you pick up the ball, and when you turn around, he's regarding you carefully. You find an interest in the words stamped onto the basketball.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"Not really." You spin the ball in your hands. "I mean, it's not like you never knew, and nothing's really changed, and that's why I'm here in the first place. So."

Seungmin nods slightly and hums, scratching his nose.

"I didn't mean to kill the mood."

"No," he says immediately, "don't worry about anything like that. You're good company."

You look at Seungmin. He stares back, and for a brief moment, you remember a boy with the same dark eyes, under a similar sky, sitting with you at the corner of a convenience store after school because you didn't want to go home.

"Oh. Okay."

"You wanna try for a third garlic cheese bread?"

"Nah, you kinda killed the vibe with all that mushy gushy stuff."

Seungmin hisses through his teeth when you punch his shoulder. "Damn."

"Only joking. Can we go now, though? I'm hungry."

"Yeah, sure."

—

In the brief interludes where neither of you have anywhere to be, you and Seungmin inevitably gravitate towards one another. That's what happens when people get along, you guess, though it's been so long that it surprises you when Seungmin actually joins you on the couch with a tub of popcorn.

"That for me?"

"That for us," he corrects as you press play on the laptop and settle back into the cushions. "Is the volume high enough?"

"Oh." You lean forward again. "Now it is."

Seungmin had been neutral at best towards pirating a horror movie from five years ago—he could take them or leave them, depending on the quality—but you had cited its several awards and didn't want to watch it alone, so here he was, ready to pass judgment on your choice.

"Don't scream too loudly," he gibes as the music drops to a low simmer, "or the neighbors will complain."

You scoff, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "I'm right here if you need a shoulder to cry on, Seungmin-ssi."

Thirty minutes into the movie, both of you swallow your words.

You'd taken it as a sign of good taste that multiple reviews had credited Come Into My Head as providing nightmare fuel for weeks, but now you realize that good taste may not be in your best interest. Not when you're shaking like a leaf next to your roommate, who is sitting stiffly, nearly stone-like.

When the killer jumps out, both of you let out a shriek that triggers angry thumping from above.

"Shitshitshit." Another jump scare slashes across the screen, and you leap out of your skin when Seungmin's hand clamps down on your arm. "SHIT."

"Y-You're making my arm numb," you whisper, but you make no move to pry him off, eyes glued to the screen.

"Sorry—"

When the lead actor screams, you can't take it anymore and suffocate Seungmin's arm between your own, smashing your face into his shoulder with a pathetic whimper.

... Unfortunately, said shoulder ends up being so warm and muscular that you sober up from your fear-drunkeness long enough to be overcome with embarrassment.

"Uh." Your action seems to have the same effect on Seungmin, whose grip immediately loosens.

"I'm sorry," you blather, starting to pull away. "I swear I'm not trying to—"

"It's fine," Seungmin interrupts. "I, uh, don't mind if you don't. I'm kind of terrified right now?"

"Me too."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

The corners of his lips quirk upward. If it weren't for the gory, red lighting of the movie illuminating his face, and if you weren't so sure of his opinion on you, you would think that Oh Seungmin was blushing.

Yeah. You lean back until you're pressed against Seungmin once more, arms wrapped around his and shoulder pressing shoulder. His right hand reaches around to squeeze yours with every on-screen death and you can feel each joint of each finger over your own. I'm terrified.

—

It takes two whole weeks before shit hits the fan.

It had been an unexpectedly warm day, so you had decided to impulse buy some ice cream bars on the way back from work. Seungmin would appreciate it, being cooped up in the apartment with his synthesizer. You haven't been able to catch him outside his room for the past day. Maybe you could hang out and talk in the kitchen while you polished off one or two ice cream bars.

Sticking the box of chocolate-coated vanilla in the freezer, you quietly walk over to Seungmin's bedroom and examine the doorknob. There's no Do Not Disturb sign hanging from it, and it's not locked, which you take as the go-ahead to knock.

"Seungmin-ssi, I got ice cream."

You wait. No reply.

Frowning, you press your ear against the door, wondering if he's working on some music, but you don't hear anything. Of course, he could be using headphones for some reason.

"Hello?" You knock and then call for him once more, making sure to be loud. "Hey, I'm coming in."

With that, you enter his room.

Nothing seems out of place. That is, until you see Seungmin hunched over on the edge of his bed, hands trembling and forehead drenched with sweat.

"Seungmin!"

Stumbling over your feet to rush over, you grab ahold of his shoulders and shake him. Seungmin jolts and shivers, then looks up with wide, glazed eyes, and it frightens you so badly you reach up to grab his face. It feels cold.

"Hey. Hey! What happened?!"

He stares up at you, completely vacant, and then he finally blinks. It seems to trigger something because he starts gasping for breath, clutching your wrists as he registers your presence.

"What happened?" you repeat, voice cracking from the volume.

He winces. "I dunno," he rasps, wetting his lips. "I think we ... I think we broke the system?"

The use of we raises a flag in your mind, but considering the present circumstances, you put that aside for now. For all you know, his brain could be fried like an egg and churning out nonsense. "Broke what system?"

He looks down.

You follow his gaze. There is a pair of strange glasses on the floor by his feet. Hesitantly, as if you might get burned, you pick them up.

Upon inspection, you notice '♭form' faintly etched into the frames. There's a button on top of the left hinge, but nothing happens when you press it. Frowning, you press it again, only to curse when something neon red fizzles briefly across the lenses. Then it’s dead once more.

"Oh," you murmur dumbly. You look at him again.

Seungmin's lips press together, eyes still fixed on the glasses, and he swallows. His gaze then moves to you and the emptiness of it slowly ebbs away.

He is silent, despondent, and he takes a moment before he tells you something so sincerely it stuns you.

"That was the only place where I mattered."

And, truthfully, it feels like he's slapped you across the face.

You gape at him, throat suddenly tight, and when he continues to sit without another word, you shut your mouth so violently your jaw tingles.

The strange behavior makes sense now. The brief periods of dullness after leaving his room, the rare but suspicious checking out from conversations, the obsession with music. You had overlooked these things because the moments between them had been some of the best you’ve ever had. They had mattered to you.

Apparently, he had never felt the same way.

"You don't think you matter here?" you say, numb. Your grip tightens around the glasses. "What was the fucking point of all this, then?"

His brow furrows. "… What do you mean?"

It feels like prying open the shell of a living creature, exposing everything that's meant to be kept safely hidden away. You do not know why the living creature is you and not Seungmin. You don't know why Seungmin makes it so damn easy to spill your guts, revealing the self-centered and bitter parts of you that drive everyone else away.

"Do I not matter either?" you ask.

The sound of your own voice, angry and trembling, immediately disgusts you. You bite your tongue and turn away.

"What? Hey, that's not—"

"Nevermind. Forget it."

As you head straight for the door, you have this grand idea in your head that you're going to storm out of the apartment, spend a few hours blowing off some steam, and then return to pack up your stuff and stop adding to Seungmin's misery. But that would require you to be faster than Seungmin, and for his apartment to be large enough to create enough distance between you and him.

Reality unfolds as such: you getting one foot across the doorway, Seungmin grabbing your wrist, and you stopping far too quickly.

"That's not what I meant at all. I'm sorry, I'm just—just let me explain."

"I'm a little too pissed off to listen nicely, Seungmin-ssi."

"That's fine. As long as you believe me." When you look back at him, he squeezes your wrist. "Please stay."

He's pleading. His hand is clammy. And because your pride means so little, and because you have become so horribly attached—you stay.

You let him lead you back into his room to sit on his bed. You stay, and you listen as he starts from the very beginning.

By the time he's done, having explained the train, the fighting, the surreal time loop his band had just broken after what had seemed like days, you are just about ready to break down.

"So you're telling me that you've been wanted by ♭form for the past year?" you say, throat dry, and Seungmin nods. "What would've happened to you here if you died in there?"

"I don't know. All I know is that the pain sticks after I log off."

The pain sticks. Good god. You lean over and hold your head in your hands, feeling nauseous. "Seungmin-ssi, that's not okay. What the fuck."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't think you would be this upset if you found out."

"Of course I would? I live with you? Do you know how traumatizing it would be to come back from work and find out you're brain dead? Like, fuck," you laugh, feeling your lungs constrict, "oh, my god, what if I lost you?"

Seungmin is quiet. Then he says, almost whispering, "Lost me?"

The disbelief in his echo causes you to close your eyes. Everything is coming out now. You can feel them bubbling over, crawling out from between your ribs, thoughts and confessions that you have stuffed down for fear that they would be ridiculed.

He utters your name, the end of it curling upward in bewilderment.

"Seungmin-ssi." You take a deep breath. "You're kind, and caring, and the first person in actual years who I felt actually gave a shit about me. If something happened to you, I ... part of me would probably die too, I think."

It's too hot in his room. Your vision goes blurry, and you feel your nose start to burn. You sniffle. Hands falling into your lap, you dig your nails into the fabric of your uniform pants. You're sweaty and teary and miserably cracked open, and it's hot, and all you can do is sit and wait for his response.

Beside you, Seungmin shifts in place.

Then two arms wrap around you, warmth upon warmth, a cheek resting against the side of your head as he holds you.

"I didn't know you felt that way about me," he breathes. "I'm sorry for being so reckless with myself. I was ... I was wrong."

Your tears start to fall onto his shoulder. "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I'm here." His hand ghosts up and down your back, the barest of tremors in his fingers. "You matter to me, too. So, so much."

Oh. A sob escapes your lips.

You're so selfish. Selfish for having him comfort you after what he went through in ♭form, selfish for dirtying his shoulder with your tears, selfish for feeling this way about him after so little time.

Selfish for wanting to stay.

You tighten your grip on the back of his shirt. Seungmin hums. He pulls away just slightly to look at your face, and you almost tear up again when he wipes the wetness from your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes glossier than normal.

"I'm sorry," you croak as he does so, reaching up to touch the dark circles under his eyes. "I didn't even check if you were okay. Are you okay?"

He chuckles a bit wetly, hugging you again. "I'm better now. Thanks for asking."

"Do you need water?"

"I'll get some in a few minutes. Don't worry."

"It's hot. I came in to ask if you wanted ice cream. I bought a box from the store."

"Oh, you did?"

Neither of you move, bodies pressed close, intertwined. You are buried in his scent.

"We can have them now," you offer, with effort, "if you want."

"Is that what you want?"

You bite your lower lip. "... If it makes you feel better."

His mouth presses against your temple. Against it, he admits, "It is hot. But ..."

He does not finish that sentence. But you understand, and something blooms, trembling, in your chest.

"Maybe later," you finish drowsily.

Leaning into him further, you hear his soft agreement, his hands stroking down your arms with a surety that had not been present before. He keeps you here, with him, real and breathing, living.

You are not alone. And neither is he.

Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for loving my prideless self. I'm glad we exist here, in this world, together.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Good People Part V - Can't Be For Nothing (Platonic)

Summary: War. Revelations of two-hundred years ago, and of a night that won't leave your mind. A new world is seemingly born; as is a new family.

Episodes 7/8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Note: Thank you all for following this journey! I will probably do a post mortem on it; exploring my ideas going in, what changed and such. Hope you enjoy it when that comes! I'll link it here when I write it!

"We don't have oysters in my vault," Lucy says, making you and Maximus turn around, "we have canned tuna. But, if you like oysters, I'm pretty sure you'll like canned tuna," you both don't know what to say. You both look at each other, then back at Lucy, and just nod. Maybe. Maybe not.

She chuckles, nervously. Then --

"I was supposed to marry a stranger from another vault," she blurts out.

"I thought you were meant to marry your cousin?" you question.

"Wait, what--?!"

"Well," Lucy says, correcting you on the timeline, "I was. But, I didn't really want to. I didn't feel a - connection. I guess I...I did with this one...as he - as he, uh, as he stabbed me. But, look, my point is, I don't have the best luck when it comes to strangers. But...Titus...Y/N...you are the best strangers that I have ever met. You're good people. You deserve nice things. You deserve a home, and a roof over your head. And to not have to fight anymore. And, if you wanted to, you could both come and live with us in Vault 33."

There's a look in her eyes as she looks at Maximus - Titus, the knight who isn't a knight; he'd told you before the whole thing in the vault happened. Sure, you didn't like being lied to about his identity; but, a good person was a good person - and it's a look you've seen before. Romantic love. Attraction. Even out here, it blossoms.

You never wanted that in your life. Friendships were enough for you. So, as quietly as you can, you back away. You go through the doors, letting your friends have their moment together.

It gives you a moment to process. Maximus. Why'd he be honest with you at first? Why not lie. Maybe it was getting too hard for him. Maybe he thought, one slip would be ok. He bet right, it seemed. You didn't tell anyone. Maybe you were a good person. Maybe you did deserve a second chance at life. Another sis-

"Hey," Lucy says, as she leaves with Maximus. He nods to you, you nod back.

"Are you both all square?" you ask.

She looks to Maximus, nodding with a soft smile, "yeah, we're good," she looks back to you, "you ok with a roomie in the vault?"

You look at Maximus, "he ain't so bad company, for a non-red," he snorts at your wording, "I think we'll manage."

Lucy nods, a spring in her step as she walks, leading the way, "let's go get that head, and go home, huh?"

Maximus stands next to you, "ready to go home?" he asks, looking at you.

"Yeah," you say, arms folded. You bump your arm on his, "let's go home."

You, finally, find Thaddaeus, as he sits near a radio station. You see the booby traps, but all three of you pause. Perception working in tandem.

Gunshots are next. However, luck seems to intervene. They all miss. Still, the hands go up. You're not a threat to him. You just want the head.

If anything, though, he's a threat to himself. As he backs up, an arrow goes through his neck. However...he lives still.

His reaction:

"Aw, no! Awwww!"

Then you hear it. Your pulse picks up. Your hand goes into a fist. You feel the nails break skin.

Vertibird. The Brotherhood are here. Your breath picks up.

Maximus breaks one of the heads left behind. He says things to Lucy, then to you. He looks concerned, but doesn't have time to help. He gives you a light push. Lucy takes your hand. Everything sounds underwater. The only thing you can hear is that fucking Vertibird.

You follow Lucy. She keeps a grasp on your hand. You take her gun, just in case.

You make it far away. Or, what you hope to christ constitutes too far away.

You lean against a dead tree, going down to your knees.

Lucy puts the fresh - well, not really fresh, but new - head into a bag and ties it to her belt, before kneeling down next to you. She's seen you feel. But, never to this extent.

"Ok. Ok. Okey Dokey, Luce, you can do this. You can do this. Your friend needs you. Your friend needs you," she tells herself. The old self is still there.

"Y/N?" she asks, softly, "Y/N, I need you to look at me. Focus on my voice," she says. Chet would sometimes get overworked with things. So, she had some practice. But never with someone so trapped in themselves as you.

"Are - is touch ok?" that breaks through, and you nod.

"Ok. Ok, that's - that's, uh, that's good. That’s good, Y/N,” she may be out of her depth - but you need her, and so she’d do all she could, “that’s good. Can you try to take some breaths with me?”

She takes a deep one in. You follow. She sees you now. Whatever the Brotherhood had done before, it had destroyed you.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” she asks.

“Just…” you take some more breaths, “just bad memories of the Brotherhood,” you chuckle, but it’s anything but a laugh, “Jesus, Luce. Whatever is in that head, it’s gonna change the world, whoever get their hands on it. You know,” you say, smiling a bit, “we could just run. You and me, huh? Just not let anyone get that fucking head.”

Despite what Lucy would leave behind, she smiles, “it’s a nice idea,” she says, “but, I need to get my dad back. I need to know why Moldaver took him. I need to put this all behind me, one way or another. That,” she stands up, and offers you a hand, “and I made you a promise. A place in my vault. Safety. This place sucks, but it sucks a lot less with someone by my side. And, I’m not leaving you. I’ll wait as long as I need to.”

You’ve seen loyalty like that before. Or had seen it. It hadn’t been followed through on. But, here was someone who you had known for two weeks, who was following through on a thing someone who you had known your entire life didn’t do. 

So, you nod. You can tell her later your full trauma. Right now, she needs you. 

You take her hand, and continue along your way. You hope Maximus is ok. And, selfishly, you hope he can buy you the time you need to get this done. 

You make it to your destination. Finally, People with guns surround you, but neither of you flinch. The doors open, and in you go. 

You walk through a garden, seeing kids running around. A community. Home. Safety. Family. Life continues on, even throughout all of this shit.

Lucy and you get to the entrance to the observatory. Lucy is let in, but you aren’t.

“No,” she says, voice firm, “they come too. They’re family. Moldaver doesn’t get this head if Y/N doesn’t come with me.”

Begrudgingly, the man lets you pass. 

You reach the doors.

“You ready?” you ask your best friend. She takes a deep breath in, and nods.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Hey,” you say, nudging her, “I’m right here, ok? Like I said, offer still stands.”

She smiles, “I know.”

You enter the room. It’s a grand view, you’ll give it that. See almost the whole wasteland from here. 

You stay back, keeping an eye on things from afar.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this moment,” Lucy says to Moldaver, “you wouldn’t believe the things that went through my head. One night…I, I actually tried to stuff a grenade into the neck hole; but, I guess I thought that, really, I was gonna walk in here and…blow everybody up. But it's not really how I was raised. That, and I was stopped by that person over there,” she nudges her head to you. You give a wave, a sarcastic one as you then go back to keeping an eye on thing. So, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna keep things civil.”

Moldaver takes what she needs. It wasn’t his head after all. It was his neck. A blue, small, shining little thing that caused all this bloodshed?

She then makes Lucy an offer. One to fully learn who her father is. To fully understand how Moldaver knows him; and why she did what she did. 

Her father tries to make her not listen. He even looks to you, “you can stop this, you know. She’s your friend, protect her!” He demands.

You look at him, and a part of you wants to. You look at Lucy, she does a slight - almost unnoticeable, but not to you - shake of her head.

“It’s her choice,” you say. The man snarls at you.

Moldaver continues. She tells a story. A story about how her father had been around for a long time. 

“Part of an organisation that thought they had the answers to all the world’s problems…” she continues the story. Saying about the people he was a part of. Vault Tec.

“He never told you where he’s really from, when he’s from. He never told your mother, either…”

Lucy takes the bait. Your hand moves towards your gun. Her father may be in a cell, but he’s a dangerous man - who has been around for a long time.

Lucy is described as just like her mother: kind, loving, curious.

“Isn’t that why you came to the surface? Moldaver asks, “partly to rescue your father, but…to know why I took him.”

Lucy looks at you. She’s been read like a book.

Moldaver then looks to you, “have I seen you before?” 

You look at Moldaver, tilting your head before shaking it.

She studies you for a moment. Then, her eyes light up in realisation. They’re not cruel, though. Just realisation. That’s the only look in her eyes.

“Ah. Y/L/N, right?” she takes your frozen stance as a ‘yes’ before continuing, “I knew her.”

“...’Knew’?” you ask, throat tightening.

“Stop,” Lucy’s dad says. You don’t know why. There’s a slight ringing in your ears.

“Lucy deserves to know the truth,” Moldaver spits at the man, eyes still firmly locked on yours, “so Y/N does too. You came all this way with her, to deliver something for someone you didn’t even know. That sounds like your sister to me,” it’s not said tauntingly. It’s not said with any negative connotation. It’s just simply said. 

“You knew her?” is all you can repeat.

Moldaver nods, “I did. She thought you died out there, that night the raiders came. The night the Brotherhood made their own mess of things. She survived. Barely, but, she did survive. We took her in. She helped us anyway she could. Some sort of thanks, but also I think a punishment to herself for seemingly losing you,” you look to Lucy, who looks in concern, but also a hunger to know - to know about herself and her mother, and how her father ties into all this; a hunger to know about you, about what made you this way. 

Curious, as Moldaver said.

“She was a fighter,” Moldaver continues, “just like you are. Sure, you can shoot and hit things. But, you, no. No, you are more in battle up here,” she says, tapping her head, “now, that is a battle I can fully respect. It isn’t easy fighting a battle like that. Wanting to hurt people, and yourself,” your eyes drift, meeting the eyes of Lucy’s father. He doesn’t say anything.

“No, don’t look at him,” Moldaver says, “he doesn’t care about hurting anyone. He’d hurt his own daughter before he got hurt himself.”

“How dare –!”

“How’d she die?” you ask. The words were easier to come out than you thought. Your eyes go back to Moldaver. Your fist clenches again. You feel it pierce skin.

“I think you know,” Moldaver says, a bit of empathy slipping through.

You blink, or try to blink, the tears away, “raiders.”

She nods.

You cave inwards. You hear your heartbeat. You hear echoes of your sister’s voice. You feel everything you did on that night. The fear. The pain as a wound opened up from a knife. The relief at the Brotherhood arriving. The dread at them just cutting everything and anything down. You played dead. You remember waking up hours later, on top of the rotting pile of one of your friends who had left you for raiders. You remember looking around, not finding your sister. The panic. Then the pain. Then the rage. Then the numbness. You lost…it couldn’t have been years, could it? It could’ve been for all you knew. You just wandered. And hurt. Sometimes even got pissed on. Sometimes did the pissing. You were sometimes the victim, and sometimes the aggressive. Sometimes innocent. Sometimes guilty.

You hear the alarm, then feel someone grab your arm. Your eyes open, it’s Moldaver. She nods to the door. Your fingers are removed from your flesh. You gasp. Moldaver gives you a pat on the arm, before leaving with her people. You run to the massive hole in the building, seeing the Brotherhood arrive. You pray with everything in you that Maximus isn’t in one of the suits. You look to Lucy, then nod. You go to the door. 

As if having sixth sense, Lucy turns around and sees you heading for the door, “where are you going?!” she asks, alarmed.

You pause at the door, hand hovering just over the handle. 

“Y/N? Where are you going?”

You don’t turn to look at your friend. Instead, you shut your eyes and answer:

“I’ll buy you some time.”

“What–? What, Y/N that’s - that’s suicide!” She moves forward, grabbing your arm, making you turn to look at her.

What she sees makes her pause.

It’s the same look she gave Norm when she hid him. A protective fire. One that could be used for limitless energy just like the Cold Fusion that everyone was fighting over.

It’s then. Right then and there, she lets herself say it to herself.

Sisterly. It is sisterly, how she feels towards you. You were like Norm, someone she just accepted and would do anything for. You’re family. 

You seem to have that same realisation. Given the look in your eyes.

It is the sibling telling the other: I will sort this out. Do not come out until then. I love you.

But, instead of a camera reel burning to project the living hell being brought down upon you all. The whole world seems to be burning that fiery red instead. Burning and crumbling down all around you.

Just like with Norm, that assurance doesn't work. She grips your arm tighter.

“Please.”

You put the hand that was hovering around the door on top of hers, squeezing it.

“I’m coming back,” you promise.

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

You shake your head, “I ain’t. ‘Cause them out there, they’re fighting for power. Some, dumb thing such as that in a world that lost control years ago.”

“Then - then why are you going out those doors?” 

You smile, “I already let one sister down. I ain’t doing that again.”

With that, you pull your arm free, and open the door. You give Lucy one more nod, before shutting it behind you.

She gulps. Then she hears ringing in her ears. As all that she has learned about her mother, father, upbringing, everything, comes crashing down upon her.

You remember one of your first kills. A man was trying to kill yourself and your sister. He had knocked her out. He had punched you a few times and the world was spinning. You had spat blood onto the floor as the man moved over to your sister. With whatever strength you had left. You got up, charged him, and had him on the floor this time. You punched him a few times, before sticking your teeth into his neck. His gurgled scream didn’t mean anything to you. You just had this anger. This protective fury to you. You ripped out the piece of his throat that you had taken, spitting it out. 

Your sister was standing next to you the next moment, you both watching the man bleed out. She only reached a hand out to you. You took it. You held it for a while after. A bloodsoaked hand. But a promise to never let go. To keep going together.

Fate had other ideas. The Brotherhood had their goals. But they mistook you for raiders it seemed. Or just couldn’t see shit in those helmets of theirs when they started firing. It was only you and your sister and at that point, you didn’t mourn them much. But, that fire of knowing - or, at least, knowing as you did at the time - that your sister had been seemingly killed as well…it made you punish yourself. It made you never fully heal after fights. It made you never fully accept help.

And yet, that damn Lucy Maclean had come into your life, and given you something you never thought you’d have again:

Hope. 

You remember that hope as you fir each round - you are a decent shot, especially for someone who has no actual training with them - and hit most of your targets. You take weapons from fallen people where you could. 

A bullet hits your piece of cover. You heard footsteps. Your latest weapon had clicked ages ago. So, you wait…and wait. And then –

You dive, tackling the person to the floor. They block a punch, before you get one in and –

A bullet slams into your shoulder, sending you to the ground.

“No!” you hear a familiar voice say. You blink, adjusting to the searing pain and the daylight. It’s Maximus, with a friend of his, “they’re my friend! They’re my friend!” he says.

“Oh shit!” his friend says, dropping to one knee, dragging you out of the way. The war itself is distraction enough.

“Where’s Lucy?” Maximus asks you.

You have a hand to your shoulder. One his friend removes as they put a Stimpack into your arm. You groan at it, before answering him:

“Upstairs…with her father.”

“Is she alive?” 

“The more you piss around here, not likely,” you say.

Maximus nods. He looks to his friend, “go,” they say. He nods, and pats you on the arm and leaves. 

His friend stays with you, “I’m sorry,” they say.

You nudge your head to the door, “go. Don’t get caught out here.”

They look like they wanna stay, then realise why you’re saying that. The Brotherhood are brutal. They only let Maximus live due to loyalty. They nod, leaving too, but a few extra rounds find their way onto the floor.

Good deeds and all that, Lucy would say.

The battle seems to be dying down. And you are just plain dying. Another shot had hit you. This one closer to your chest. You had stumbled your way into the building, seeing dead Brotherhood members around you. 

You collapse, growing weaker by the moment. You hate it, having your promise be broken. But, you tried. You fought them off as best you –

“Aw, hell,” you hear a gruff voice say. A hand grabs your arm, and you are hoisted up; your arm going around someone’s shoulders, “we gotta stop meeting like this, sunshine.”

You look, and see the Ghoul who had taken you hostage.

“Ah,” he says, “don’t talk. You’re the silent one. I like that about you. Only talk when necessary,” he begins to move you to the stairs, “now, don’t worry about these ones. They’re all taken care of. But, I do need a word with Mister Maclean. And, I do think that if little Miss Lucy finds out I left you to die, she might do more than rip off my finger, this time.” 

He gets you to the room. He opens the door and goes in, leaning you against a wall. You stumble in as best you can, looking worse and worse by the second. 

“Uh-uh,” The Ghoul says when Hank Maclean looks at you, “don’t look at them. You look at me, now,” Hank complies.

You make your way over to Maximus and Lucy. Getting to the floor with at least a bit of grace. Lucy looks at you, eyes going wide.

You reach out with your hand not on your wound, and cover Lucy’s. A bloodsoaked hand. But a promise to never let go. To keep going together.

“You look out at this wasteland,” the Ghoul says, “it looks like chaos. But there’s always somebody behind the wheel.”

He knows Lucy wants to know how he knows her father. But makes an offer. You can stay here, wait for Maximus to wake up, but you won’t be spared - hell, you were by a sheer stroke of luck - or, you go with him, and meet your makers. 

“You coming?” he asks you. 

Lucy squeezes your hand. Your vision goes hazy. Time is running out. A gunshot goes off. Lucy’s mother dies.

You feel hands on your arm as you are once again lifted up. Lucy is holding you. Even now, she’s gentle. 

You realise what you are then, to each other: an anchor.

Something pulling the other ashore. Making sure they don’t get lost in the madness of this world.

You feel a jab in your side. Another fucking stimpack. Christ you hope a dependance doesn’t follow with these.

You see the Ghoul again, “one for the road.”

You nod. To your surprise, so does he.

Lucy takes your hand.

“You ok?” she asks. You nod, feeling a bit stronger.

“Okey Dokey,” she says. This time, not as bright in tone. One that isn’t entirely flat either. More of relief, a tired relief. A want for rest. But also one that tells you she understands now. This world was dark and painful. There were few light spots in it for hope.

Her hand in yours, tells you she understood your own realisation. You are a bright spot in each other’s lives. A friend to always be there.

So, off you walk together. Her father was gone, in more ways than one. He had fled like a coward. She’d almost shot him. She wanted to.

Her family was now down to two members:

Norm - her little brother. The one she’d always protect.

And you - a sibling she found out here. One that would protect her just as much as she did you.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. 

It wasn’t all for nothing, coming up here. It wasn’t all for nothing, delivering that head.

A new world was coming through. It was fighting.

Now, it was the time for monsters. 

She was just glad you weren’t one of them.