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optimist-pine · 2 months

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Granny

Summary: You and Daryl have a secret confusing love language of insults

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,236

Era: Seasons 1-5(ish), The quarry - Alexandria

It had started shortly after your first encounter with Mr. Dixon. Simply a passing (slightly pointed) comment - nothing more - as some of you gathered around the fire that night.

Dale stands near the flames, removing a whistling pot from the heat. "Anybody want a cup of tea? Kettle's hot."

"Why dun'cha ask granny over there?" Daryl suggests, nodding towards you with a snigger. Merle's not around tonight, and so it seems he's found a way to create a bit of entertainment.

Your head snaps up when you realize you're the butt of the joke, hands stilling as you set down your work. A crochet hook or knitting needles find their way into your hands as often as that damn crossbow ends up in his; usually when it's too late in the evening to be doing anything else. "You know what? I would love a cup of tea. Thank you, Dale." You reply, taking the steaming mug that's passed to you with a smile that melts into a pointed glare the second Daryl's eyes meet yours.

The corner of his mouth twitches mischievously. "Somebody get out tha' fancy china an' the biscuits an' we'll have ourselves a real tea party." He's prodding the coals with a stick, and in the darkness, the slope of his shoulders brings to mind the image of a caveman. The thought amuses you.

You nod your head, contemplating. "Hmm... I'd be down for that. In fact, I have a feeling we might even be in the presence of a tea party expert." You say knowingly. Sophia and Carol sit cuddled up to your right, and the little girl looks curiously up at you, cradling a well-loved teddy bear. You turn to the child, lowering your voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about tea parties, would you?"

She curls into herself a little, shyly. But at her mother's gentle urging, she nods her head, a tiny smile appearing on her face.

You clap your hands together. "It's settled then! Tomorrow we shall have a tea party." The last part is aimed at Daryl - you feel proud of yourself, but the confused look on his face makes you question why. It's like you've taken his accusation as a challenge to prove just how grandmotherly you can be, and funnily enough, he's probably right. You're actually looking forward to hanging out with Sophia tomorrow; she's a pretty cool kid.

Carol tuts softly. "After school." She adds.

"After school." You agree, shooting Sophia a conspiratorial wink.

Every time Daryl spots you working with your yarn he can't resist the urge to tease you about it. Maybe it's because you take every jest in good humor, or maybe it's because you always have a quick, witty comeback. He's never quite figured it out, but somehow it's become a staple of your interactions. Even though so much has changed, he's oddly glad that this hasn't.

One night, in the dead of winter, as the wind howls through gaps in the window frames you get an ornery glint in your eye. Daryl's already found your behavior suspicious, whatever current yarn project you've been committed to hasn't made a single appearance the entire evening. And the way you keep glancing at him almost nervously is... unsettling.

When he looks up again you're walking towards him, hands tucked behind your back, trying so hard to look casual that it doesn't take long before all eyes are on you. You stop in front of him and promptly shove a box in his face. No, not just a box. It's a present, wrapped perfectly in polka-dotted gift wrap with a glittery bow to top it all off.

He stares back at you, wondering what punchline he's missed.

You roll your eyes. "It's a gift, Daryl."

"Why?" He asks. He'd trust you with his life any day, but right now - with that box - he absolutely does not.

"Well, why don'tcha just open it and find out?" You taunt, shaking the present just a smidge.

He takes the box, feeling awkward and clumsy as he tears away the paper. Having never opened a present before - at least nothing like this that is - feelings of stupidity and excitement and pressure blend within him.

He dumps the object into his palm. It's cool and smooth to the touch; a black mug with white writing that says "World's Crankiest Grandpa".

You're trying so hard to withhold from laughing that your face is turning pink.

"Think ya could get yer money back on this one?" He asks, spinning the cup around to critique it.

You slap his arm lightly. "Ah, Dixon, you're no fun."

"She might'a hit the nail on the head there." Rick chuckles.

You sit back down, finally pulling out your yarn like all is now right in the world. "Ah, I found it a couple days ago. Couldn't resist. S'pecially not after the dream I had where you were yellin' at the walkers to 'git offa yer damn lawn'..." You shudder. "Took me a bit to get that one outta my head."

That earns quite a few laughs from the rest of the group. Once again, you've managed to lift the mood of those around you. It seems to be a habit of yours.

He turns the mug over and over again, running his thumb across the letters. He knows it's only a gag gift, but he's not blind to the effort that went into it. And it's not an exaggeration to say that this silly mug is by far the most thoughtful gift he's ever received.

He hangs onto that mug, using it proudly every day. Of course, it garners the occasional question from the new folks, but he doesn't mind. Soon enough he's got a matching handmade hat, scarf, and gloves as proof of your continuing love for the grandmotherly hobby.

When the prison falls he misses those gifts severely.

But then, Alexandria. The day he comes across you there on the porch in a creaky rocking chair, with your cup of steaming tea and a ball of yarn, the once-familiar urge to say something a little stupid and a lot annoying takes over.

He stoops down and leans in. "Where's yer glasses at, old lady?"

You wave your hand to shoo him away. "Ah, git yer muddy boots off'a my porch ya ol' geezer." You nag, the smile you're trying to hide peeking out like a sun ray from behind storm clouds. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, clomping down the steps. But it's not like he's trying to hide his own smile or anything... Not at all.

When he returns home that evening, there, sitting on the end of his bed, is a small box. It's perfectly wrapped in paper that's covered in birds and trees, encircled with a pristinely hand-tied bow. He can't deny the flutter of excitement as he plops down to unwrap it. It's like Deja Vu, the coffee mug tumbling into his palm. This time it's white with black lettering that reads "I don't always roll a joint, but when I do, it's my ankle".

With a snort he falls back onto the bed, letting old memories wash away the burdens of the day. However he can, whatever it takes, he'll hold onto the hope that you'll both end up old and gray and worn someday - together.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd season 1 #twd season 2 #twd season 3 #twd season 4 #twd season 5 #optimist pine

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mightyflamethrower · 9 months

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“Name me a single objective we’ve ever set out to accomplish that we’ve failed on. Name me one, in all of our history. Not one!”

-President Joe Biden, August 16, 2023

Joe Biden in one of his now accustomed angry “get off my grass” moods dared the press to find just one of his policies/objectives that has not worked. Silence followed.

Perhaps it was polite to say nothing, given even the media knows almost every enacted Biden policy has failed.

Here is a summation of what he should instead apologize for.

Biden in late summer 2021 sought a 20th anniversary celebration of 9/11 and the 2001 subsequent invasion of Afghanistan. He wished to be the landmark president that yanked everyone out of Afghanistan after 20 years in country. But the result was the greatest military humiliation of the United States since the flight from Vietnam in 1975.

Consider the ripples of Biden’s disaster. U.S. deterrence was crippled worldwide. China, Russia, Iran, and North Korea almost immediately began to bluster or return to their chronic harassment of U.S. and allied ships and planes. We left thousands of allied Afghans to face Taliban retribution, along with some Western contractors.

Biden abandoned a $1 billion embassy, and a $300 million remodeled Bagram airbase strategically located not far from China and Russia, and easily defensible. Perhaps $50 billion in U.S. weaponry and supplies were abandoned and now find their way into the international terrorist mart.

All our pride flags, our multimillion gender studies programs at Kabul University, and our George Floyd murals did not just come to naught, but were replaced by the Taliban’s anti-homosexual campaigns, burkas, and detestation of any trace of American popular culture.

Vladimir Putin sized up the skedaddle. He collated it with Biden’s unhinged quip that he would not get too excited if Putin just staged a “minor” invasion of Ukraine. He remembered Biden’s earlier request to Putin to modulate Russian hacking to exempt a few humanitarian American institutions. Then Russia concluded of our shaky Commander-in-Chief that he either did not care or could do nothing about another Russian invasion.

The result so far is more than 500,000 dead and wounded in the war, a Verdun-stand-off along with fortified lines, the steady depletion of our munitions and weapon stocks, and a new China/Russia/Iran/North Korean axis, with wink and nod assistance from NATO Turkey.

Biden blew up the Abraham accords, nudged Saudi Arabia and the Gulf States over to the dark side of Iran, China, and Russia. He humiliated the U.S. on the eve of the midterms by callously begging the likes of Iran, Venezuela, Russia, and Saudi Arabia to pump more oil that he had damned as unclean at home and cut back its production. In Bidenomics, instead of producing oil, the president begs autocracies to export it to us at high prices while he drains the nation’s strategic petroleum reserve for short-term political advantage.

Biden deliberately alienated Israel by openly interfering in its domestic politics. He pursued the crackpot Iran Deal while his special Iranian envoy was removed for disclosing classified information.

No one can explain why Biden ignored the Chinese balloon espionage caper, kept mum about the engineered Covid virus that escaped the Wuhan lab, said not a word about a Chinese biolab discovered in rural California, and had his envoys either bow before Chinese leaders or take their insults in silence—other than he is either cognitively challenged or leveraged by his decade-long grifting partnership with his son Hunter.

Yet another Biden’s legacy will be erasing the southern border and with it, U.S. immigration law. Over seven million aliens simply crossed into the U.S. illegally with Biden’s tacit sanction—without audits, background checks, vaccinations, and COVID testing, much less English fluency, skills, or high-school diplomas.

Biden’s only immigration accomplishment was to render the entire illegal sanctuary city movement a cruel joke. Given the flood, mostly rich urban and vacation home dwellers made it very clear that while they fully support millions swarming into poor Latino communities of southern Texas and Arizona, they do not want any illegal aliens fouling their carefully cultivated nests.

Biden is mum about the 100,000 fentanyl deaths from cartel-imported and Chinese-supplied drugs across his open border. He seems to like the idea that Mexican President Obrador periodically mouths off, ordering his vast expatriate community to vote Democratic and against Trump.

Despite all the pseudo-blue collar dissimulation about Old Joe Biden from Scranton, he has little empathy for the working classes. Indeed, he derides them as chumps and dregs, urges miners to learn coding as the world covets their coal, and studiously avoids getting anywhere near the toxic mess in East Palestine, Ohio, or so far the moonscape on Maui.

Bidenomics is a synonym for printing up to $6 billion dollars at precisely the time post-Covid consumer demand was soaring, while previously dormant supply chains were months behind rebooting production and transportation. Biden is on track to increase the national debt more than any one-term president.

In Biden’s weird logic, if he raised the price of energy, gasoline, and key food staples 20-30 percent since his inauguration without a commensurate rise in wages, and then saw the worst inflation in 40 years occasionally decline from record highs one month to the next, then he “beat inflation.”

But the reason why more than 60 percent of the nation has no confidence in Bidenomics is because it destroyed their household budgets. Gas is nearly twice what it was in January 2021. Interest rates have about tripled. Key staple foods are often twice as costly—meat, vegetables, and fruits especially.

Biden has ended through his weaponized Attorney General Merrick Garland the age-old American commitment to equal justice under the law. The FBI, DOJ, CIA, and IRS are hopelessly politically compromised. Many of their bureaucrats serve as retrieval agents for lost Biden family incriminating laptops, diaries, and guns. In sum, Biden criminalized opposing political views.

Biden has unleashed the administrative state for the first time in history to destroy the Republican primary front runner and his likely opponent. His legacy will be the corruption of U.S. jurisprudence and the obliteration of the American reputation for transparent permanent government that should be always above politics, bribery, and corruption.

If in the future, an on-the-make conservative prosecutor in West Virginia, Utah, or Mississippi wishes to make a national name, then he has ample precedent to indict a Democrat President for receiving bad legal advice, questioning the integrity of an election, or using social media to express doubt that the new non-Election-Day balloting was on the up-and-up, or supposedly overvaluing his real estate.

The Biden family’s decade-long family grifting will likely expose Joe Biden as the first president in U.S. history who fitted precisely the Constitution’s definition of impeachment and removal—given his “high crimes and misdemeanors” appear “bribery”-related. If further evidence shows he altered U.S. foreign policy in accordance with the wishes from his benefactors in Ukraine, China, or Romania, then he committed constitutionally-defined “treason” as well.

Defunding the police, and pandemics of exempted looting, shoplifting, smashing, and grabbing, and carjacking merit no administrative attention. Nor does the ongoing systematic destruction of our blue bicoastal cities, Los Angeles, New York, Portland, San Francisco, Seattle, and Washington, D.C. All that, along with the disasters in East Palestine or Maui are out of sight, out of mind from a day at the beach at Biden’s mysteriously purchased nearly 6,000 square-foot beachfront mansion.

Biden ran on Barack Obama-like 2004 rhetoric (“Well, I say to them tonight, there is not a liberal America and a conservative America — there is the United States of America).”

And like Obama, he used that ecumenical sophistry to gain office only to divide further the U.S. No sooner than he was elected, we began hearing from the great unifier eerie screaming harangues about “semi-fascists” and “ultra-MAGA” dangerous zealots, replete with red-and black Phantom of the Opera backdrops.

What followed the unifying rhetoric was often amnesties and exemptions for violent offenders during the 120 days of rioting, looting, killing, and attacks on police officers in summer 2020. In contrast, his administration lied when it alleged that numerous officers had died at the hands of the January 6 rioters. In addition, the Biden administration mandated long-term incarceration of many who committed no illegal act other than acting like buffoons and “illegally parading.”

The message was exemptions for torching a federal courthouse, a police precinct, or historic church or attempting to break into the White House grounds to get a president and his family—but long prison terms for wearing cow horns, a fur vest, and trespassing peacefully like a lost fool in the Capitol.

Finally, Biden’s most glaring failure was simply being unpresidential. He snaps at reporters, and shouts at importune times. He can no longer read off a big-print teleprompter. Even before a global audience, he cannot kick his lifelong creepy habit of turkey-gobbling on children necks, blowing into their ears and hair of young girls, and squeezing women far too long and far too hard.

His frailty redefined American presidential campaigning as basement seclusion and outsourcing propaganda to the media. And his disabilities only intensified during his presidency. Biden begins his day late and quits early. He has recalibrated the presidency as a 5-hour, 3-day a week job.

If Trump was the great exaggerator, Biden is our foremost liar. Little in his biography can be fully believed. He lies about everything from his train rides to the death of his son to his relationship with Biden-family foreign collaborators, to vaccinations to the economy. Anytime Biden mentions places visited, miles flown, or rails ridden, he is likely lying.

Biden continues with impunity because the media feels that a mentally challenged fabulist is preferable to Donald Trump and so contextualizes or ignores his falsehoods. Never has a U.S. president fallen and stumbled or gotten lost on stage so frequently—or been a single small trip away from incapacity.

So, yes, Biden’s initiatives have succeeded only in the sense of becoming successfully enacted—and therefore nearly destroying the country.

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waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle · 3 months

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ᵤₙfₒᵣₜᵤₙₐₜₑₗy ₛₘᵢₜₜₑₙ ₍ₘₐfᵢₐ bₒₛₛ! Gₒⱼₒ ₓ ᵣₑₐdₑᵣ₎

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Summary: Life leads you to treacherous roads after deciding to enter the dangerous life you knew well not to follow.Having gojo by your side inviting you deeper and deeper into all that’s wrong in the world, inciting you to be selfish and carefree wasn’t supposed to be to your liking, so why do you shiver with adrenaline every time he decides to be the devil on your shoulder?

Contents: Mafia boss gojo x secretary reader.(civilian au ig)

-Secret crush Gojo!

-Yandere Gojo

-Physical altercation I guess.

-angst.

Gojo being an egocentric bitch! Wealthy gojo! X no nonsense reader.

Warnings: trigger warning if you’re not interested in anything mafia like drugs or violence related. The narration of this story is inspired by Latin and Asian mafia.

Wc:3k

🏷:@busyreader17 @starlight5cat @xavlyzn (I love y’all for tuning in I appreciate your comments🫶🏻🫶🏻)

Chapter 3

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Some dew drops are seen sliding down the windows of a custom Gulf Stream jet ;due to the rain as it lands on a clandestine pathway in the city of Shanghai, China.

As the wheels below the jet deploy you feel a soft warm hand tap you on shoulder waking you up out of your slumber, as you feel the jet tremble due to the landing;you gasp yourself awake due to the strange circumstances of your awakening.

-“Good morning Miss, I hope your flight with us has been lovely. I’ll leave you a cup of coffee ,a bottle of water and some ibuprofen in the case that you require them. Mr Gojo and Mr Geto are waiting for you outside the jet so you can all head to Báisè de huā villa. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll be taking my leave.-“ Said the flight attendant before taking a bow then leaving.

You wink your eyes in hopes that I’ll help you understand what the fuck she just said,since you slept too little, you were still a bit drunk from all the whiskey from a few hours ago. You popped an ibuprofen then exited the master bedroom which you don’t remember getting into. You notice that your top is now lingering a scent of a mens cologne, but you shrug the thought off and conclude that the alcohol is just messing up your senses.

As you strut through cabin corridor,you quickly spot the jet door.Which leads you to an unknown country full of posibilites or new found problems. You tip tap down the jet stairs in hopes of finding warmth in one of the 5 Ford Everest parked by the path way, but you soon notice that in front of you is your boss and his god mother standing proudly before 2 lines of 20 men , 10 on each side forming a hallway to the vehicles while respectfully bowing down to them. Out of instinct you decide to take a step back to process the power demonstration being held before your boss, you knew he was a shady man but you’ve also never thought of him like anything else but a coworker; as you take a step back you also realize you’ve stepped out barefoot and now you have an un pleasantly wet foot.

-“Fuck.”- You comment making heads turn your way as you practically announce your arrival, as their workers noticed you ;one of them ran over to you to place and umbrella over your head.

As your presence is known; Gojo swiftly turns around and looks at you with slight amusement sparking his blue orbs.

-“How shameful,I should fire you.”-He recites while walking over to you, while making some weird hand gestures tu one of his men.

-“Be my guest.”- you reply as you gather your hair up in a pony tail to look more presentable.-”Lovely weather isn’t it?”-You comment as you rub your feet together trying to fend off the cold.

He scoffs strolling over to you ,knowing he wouldn’t fire you in his wildest dreams, a few seconds after ;the assistant whom he was signing to handed him a box. He then proceeded to crouch his tall figure to the ground , it looked as if he was bowing down to you, then he took some slippers out of the box to then grab an ankle delicately to slip then on. As of you weren’t already nervous due to this unexpected action,the look of his men piercing you made you anxious.

-“I can put them on myself you know. Stand up you’ll get your suit dirty.”-You mumbled squatting down to take the slippers from his hands.

-“Don’t tell me what to do.”-He expressed looking you dead in the eyes as he snatched back the fluffy slipper from your hand putting them back on your other foot.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

3 figures could be seen sitting down in the main dining room of the Báisè de huā villa, it is currently 2 pm and all of you just woke up from a few hours of sleep after you guys arrived from the landing site.

You were now in an impromptu business meeting as your boss explained to you your obligations as his secretary while on this very important work trip.You timidly smiled as you see how the passion for his work ( truthfully power hunger) sparked a passion in his eyes ,as he explained to you how he wanted to add Chinese territories to his reign; starting with Shanghai.

Todays meeting was very important ,here he would be meeting with a very noteworthy drug supplier that worked with very few clients due to the quality of its goods and mainly to avoid getting dragged in between gang wars, the goal for today is to be accepted to the client list and negotiate prices.

You were perfect for the job

He knew that from the moment that Geto and he started stalking you, after seeing how you built wonderful companies from zero, that you were the only one capable of fulfilling their expectations. Yes, you were young, and many people may associate that with immaturity, but your age only highlighted your strategic thinking and endless energy.

You started to supervise some work your underclass men sent you to Japan when you noticed a clothed reflection on your computer screen.

-“Do I bore you?”-The deep familiar voice questioned.

-“Sometimes.”-You snapped back in annoyance due to his stupid questions.

He frowned from your unexpected reply , your tone making him a little sad. He knew you were a woman of firm character,a quality he admired about you ,so he started to worry of what would happen if you found out about what him and geto did.

-“Are you being sincere?”-Gojo asked in a more serious tone.

-“Dead serious.”-You reply as you smile from ear to ear at his “playful” questioning.

As soon as he realized you were playing ,the stress left his shoulders , he sighed and cackled at himself due to his behavior. He barely recognized himself, the guilt is eating him alive, he needed to makeup for it fast.

-“Want to go shopping?”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

The busy Nanjing road if full of locals and tourist.The infrastructure of the shopping districts is breathtaking , the afternoon sunset is reflecting beautifully on the buildings decorated by big led screens and beautiful compositions of glass.

In the big sum of people, Gojo and you found peace due to the fact that, to the naked eye, you were no different from any tourist. Your boss stayed close to you as he scanned the environment with his icy blue eyes; he hid his hands in his cashmere pockets as he looked down on you.

-“I have a surprise, c’mon, follow me, princess.” - Your heart skipped a beat as you heard those sweet words come out of his pink lips. For some reason unknown to you, your boss only let out those teasing words in front of you. You decided not to think much of it since you knew he had his fair share of good-looking girls behind him. You knew your place, his secretary, nothing more.

His calloused, cold hand grabbed yours as he calmly walked through the crowd; he looked ahead so calmly. You felt embarrassed for thinking anything of his nonchalant attitude. But to him, oh man. His heart was running a thousand miles per hour; the only thing he could do to hide his blushing cheeks is to look ahead. Your hand felt so warm, so soft, so small against his; that only led him to wonder what the rest of you feels like. For a woman with such a small frame, you surely had too much attitude. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t fantasize about all the ways he could tame that cheeky attitude of yours. In the end, that white-haired man decided it was better for him to stop such wild thoughts before he started having issues controlling his breathing.

When both of you arrived at the store, the sales assistant immediately recognized the tall man beside you and promptly led you to a private room. It seemed to be a private dressing room; it was composed of a luxurious cream sofa, a extravagant white wood table, and what seemed to be another small room to dress in. On top of the table was a black suede box with a red bow that screamed open me!

You look over to the grinning figure beside you for permission, and as soon as he gives you the green light, you scramble to open the mystery box, which reveals a beautiful turquoise Qi pao with tiny white flowers detailing the side of your hip. The cloth ended at mid-knee and seemed like silk; it glided beautifully under your fingertips, and the stitching was impeccable. Once the sales assistant noticed you were satisfied with the dress, she took her leave.

-“You shouldn’t have.”-You gasped.

-“Oh, but I did.”-He sweet-talked as he started getting closer to your face.-”How about you model that piece for me as a thank you.”

-“Model for you?”-you giggled.-“I’d rather pay credit.”- You say as you searched your purse.

-“Fuck.”- He mumbles under his breath as he drags one hand on his face.-“I’m starting to think you get a high from contradicting me, when will you stop playing dumb, my dear.”-he taps your forehead with his index finger as he mutters this sentence.

You grab his hand, catching him off guard.

-“I don’t know if fooling around with me is your source of entertainment for today, but please consider that it’s not normal for a man such as yourself to grab my hand and plan surprises for me and take me to foreign countries. I’m aware it’s all for business reasons, so I beg you to keep this as strictly professional as possible.”

With a swift movement; your hand still in his, he turns you around to face the mirror as he positions himself behind you, towering over you as he hugs you with the arm you're both holding hands with. You gulp at the sight of his broad shoulders contrasting your own back, at the way you're engulfing yourself with his aroma, sweating at the way he dared to rest his head on your other shoulder just to whisper…

-“What if it wasn’t for business, what if the absolute truth was that you drive me crazy.”-He groaned as he looked intently at your cute expressions through the mirror.-“The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you make me want to have some damn morals just so I can have the right to talk to someone like you.”

You shake your head as you refuse to accept the reality of the situation you're in.

-“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Gojo.”

He bit his tongue in anger and frustration; all he could do is tighten his jaw in hopes he wouldn’t say anything stupid.

-“Good, cause all that’s not the fucking case.”-He left the room after spitting that out in resentment at the way you turned down his feelings as he was a beggar. He knew it; he’s a fucking idiot for ever having hope; all he’s done on this trip is embarrass himself in front of you. Having to swallow his feelings these 2 years drove him to insanity; all he wanted was to include you in his life’s plans, why couldn’t you accept that?

Oh, he clearly knew why.

It’s because you deserve better.

You deserve a Prince Charming who will offer you peace and warmth, someone who works a 9-5, someone who has a family life to offer you, probably someone who doesn’t have to carry a gun in his waistband to protect himself from all the bad things he’s done in the past, someone not crazy enough to kill for you or even better someone who’s not masochistic enough to live with the burden of his unrequited sentiments towards you.

But in the end, he knew he was selfish; that’s how he got to where he is today. He knew damn well you deserved better, so why did he still have the irresistible urge to steal you away, to drown you in his feelings to the point where you couldn’t deny them.

He laughed, no cackled at himself outside of your dressing room; you had no idea what you had coming.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Three champagne glasses clicked in celebration of a newfound business project. Tonight’s meeting has been a success, even though you’ve been burning your brain cells trying to decipher what the hell happened at the boutique this afternoon. You were clearly distracted but not to the point you forgot why you were here in the first place.

You sat back into your seat, participating in idle chit-chat with the supplier. Meanwhile, your tight turquoise Qi pao emphasized your waist, the slit by your thigh earning some stolen glances from your boss as he still acted indifferent towards you after today's spectacle.

Geto could already smell what was happening between you two, but in reality, he didn’t care one bit to even ask about it. So all he could do was stand by the door, keeping watch for any potential danger.

The meeting concluded wonderfully, so you said your goodbyes to the supplier to excuse yourself to the bathroom, allowing yourself to think straight for a few minutes before returning to your chaotic reality.

As you finished washing your hands, you touched your nape with your cold hands with the hopes of cooling down your body heat. After fanning yourself a few times, you exited the bathroom.

But to your surprise, you found a familiar face in the hallway.

-“Miss! You’re Gojo’s secretary right?”-The supplier asked, waving his hands at you to come over.

-“Yes, sir, can I help you with anything?”-You answered with a grin.

-“If you’re so very kind, I’d like to know what kind of jet you both traveled here in, because I’d also like one that can hold as much cocaine as yours do.”

You chuckled at the poor guy in front of you, too drunk out of his mind to comprehend what he’s saying.

-“Sir, we didn’t bring any cocaine; the only thing the plane carried were the three people that were in the room with you.”-You smiled as you explained the situation to him.

-“Don’t try to act sly with me, young woman! Your boss just told me that he secretly brought over 400 kilos in that jet of his; he brought them to sell over here while I released some of my product to him.”

As he uttered that sentence, your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach. This morning you were used as a drug mule, and you didn’t even notice it.

You truly thought he would respect your boundaries.

How foolish.

You start to tremble as you start to imagine what could have been if the navy or the immigration officers wanted to inspect the plane and found the three of you with all those drugs in it.

You run back to the bathroom feeling sick, thinking that by slim chance your hard-worked career was almost over. No, your precious life was over if they decided to try you for drug possession in a country as strict as China, all because of his stupid greed.

You dried your sweat as you quickly mapped out an exit back to Japan without your two business partners finding out about you knowing their dirty little secret. Now you knew you couldn’t trust them; it was idiotic of you in the first place to do so.

You quickly ran to the entrance unbeknownst to the fact that Geto was trailing after you since the moment you left the dining room. Sure, he could have prevented the supplier from telling the truth, but that would’ve been even more suspicious in your eyes, so he finally had to let the truth break free.

You signaled over one of the cars that Gojo put at your service; all you hoped for was to get your passport back from the villa and take the first flight back to your home country and maybe even treat yourself to a little crying session in the taxi.

But the moment your hand met the car door handle, a cold force pulled you back by your free hand.

-“Please, baby, let me explain.”-Gojo stated out as he felt his heart rip to shreds due to the liquid pearls forming in your eyes.-“You weren’t supposed to know; I knew we weren’t gonna get caught, so I didn’t want you to know since I knew you’d get nerv-“

A smack was heard echoing the Shanghai streets as Gojo held his red cheek after his sentenced was slapped into the air since you decided to give him a taste of what a liar like him deserved.

-“I fucking hate you!”-you yelled out while pointing a finger at him while wiping your tears with the back of your other hand.-“ I wish I never met any of you motherfuckers!”-You said as you pointed to Geto and his crew.

What surprises all of them next was your ability to get lost in the busy Shanghai streets after crossing a simple street.

Gojo didn’t hesitate to chase after you into unknown territory wishing he could turn time back, unbeknownst to himself that some threatening enemies were watching close by.

*　　　　✦　　　. *　　　　✦　　　. *　　　　✦

A/n: Holy fucking shit man , i hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I hope sacrificing my spine for the time I edited this in one sitting is worth it. Any suggestions or comments let me know!! Have a good day 🥸🫶🏻💋

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blmpff · 25 days

Text

BOUN NOPPANUT for WINK CHINA 20.04.24

bts: clip 1 - clip 2

#boun noppanut #thai actors #wink china #wink magazine #calvin klein #blmpff

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jaidens · 7 months

Text

country girl shake it for me!

pairing [s] : dean winchester x cowgirl!angel!reader

summary : The five times Dean Winchester was met with the fate of ‘Cowgirl’.

warning [s] : mentions of : stabbing, guns, basic supernatural type stuff.

a/n [s] : i got a new pair of boots today because mine literally fell apart after like 12 years

THE FIRST TIME DEAN WINCHESTER MET COWGIRL.

“Sammy! Help!” Dean shouts as the demons surround him, pushing him into the corner of the creaky house. His gun had been crushed and taken away in another room, alongside his blade that was slammed outside the window. Sam was struggling on his own with the amount that had run in. Demon territory hadn't been the Winchesters peak in their hunter careers.

Dean had blinked and they were gone and exorcised. As well as the blade shoved in one of their backs. They all lose their balance, and there shows the woman behind it all. A girl with bootcut jeans, a t-shirt tied at the bottom, and a pair of boots. “Who the hell are you?” Dean says and hears her click her tongue. She turns around and starts walking away, and walks through the door.

THE SECOND TIME DEAN WINCHESTER SAW COWGIRL.

Once more, another situation with Dean being stuck in another corner with a much stronger supernatural than normal. He's slammed against the wall and given a quick slice of sharp nails against his face. “God you dick!” Dean screams as he gets punched and kicked in the legs once again.

Dean Winchester was usually able to fight for himself, other times it seemed impossible without Sammy and Castiel near his side. Bobby was gone too, leaving him alone and fighting for himself. Once more, the creature falls off of him and there she is again. Sporting a cowboy hat this time, Dean catches a glimpse of the angel blade that sits in her bag that hangs off her side.

“Are you an angel?” Dean asks and she gives him a wink, and turns around.

She clicks her tongue and suckles her teeth.

“Buy me a drink and I'll tell you.”

Woosh!

THE THIRD TIME DEAN WINCHESTER MEETS HER.

Castiel, Dean and Sam sit around a round table trying to find solutions to fighting a pack of supernatural in the deep south. Bobby didn't have a lot of live connections that could help them, and Dean and Sam had butted heads about even taking the case.

“I know an angel we can call.” Castiel speaks up in-between the group. “She has been around the south for millions of years. The cowboys used to worship her.”

Dean finally sighs and thanks Castiel, pouring another glass of cheap whiskey. Castiel disappears before whooshing back into the room with her. “Honey, these are the Winchesters? They're like bulls in China shops. Making me clean up their messes.”

“Her? Castiel really? She's an angel?” Dean exclaims.

Castiel nods and you pull the chair and sit down. You kick your boots up against the table and mess with your blade. “We need your help, sister.”

You roll your eyes at him and sit up. “Yeah alright. What's happening?” Castiel explains the situation for you, Dean and Sam, jumping in at some points to help finalize the explanation. For a second, you catch Dean staring at you and not in general. He was staring at you. It couldn't help but make you feel tickled. “Okay, I'll help you guys out.”

You shake Sam’s hand before whooshing away.

“Her jeans make her look hot.” Dean says.

THE FOURTH TIME DEAN WINCHESTER DEALS WITH COWGIRL.

Dean Winchester was frankly tired of the two siblings. You and Castiel did everything together, never being separated. He wasn't angry about having two celestials on his team, but sometimes there had to be a mix of not having one and having one. Dean can only hear “bless their heart!” so many times in one day.

Dean is researching the case after stealing Sam’s laptop while he did something else. Castiel and Cowgirl suddenly appear together, giggling and talking about the beginning of time whenever God had Created honey bees. Castiel walks up behind Dean and questions him. “What are you doing, Dean? That is Sam’s.”

Angels weren't all the smartest in the homo sapien field. It was hard to explain to one already, but two made it even harder. One was a stuck-up angel girl with a thick accent, and one was practically a baby in a trench coat that was also angel. “I’m borrowing it.” Dean tells him.

“Oh. Okay well, me and Y/N went to see the bees. Next we're going to her farm. She has bees there!”

Woosh!

“What the hell man?” Dean whispers to himself; he can't tell if he's scared, embarrassed, or down right confused.

THE FIFTH TIME DEAN WINCHESTER DEALS WITH COWGIRL : THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING.

They were at the bar celebrating, whiskey shots and beers crowded the small table. Sam was sharing his own experiences, mentioning Riot sometimes. Castiel sits next to you, staring at the beer sitting in front of him. You're slightly tipsy, with a huge smile on your face. Dean stares at you quietly, but his head is racing with other words.

He thinks your jean jacket you have slacked around your shoulders makes you look beautiful. The way your eyes twinkle in the dim bar lights makes him forget about the whiskey in his cold glass. Dean Winchester wants to get drunk on your beautiful smile, and how your laugh echoes in his ears.

“Dean, are you alright?” Castiel’s voice pops his thought bubble, and he sits back up and joins the conversation like nothing had happened.

“Yeah, I'm just thinking.” Dean responds and you raise your eyebrows at him, your eyes looking at him weirdly. He gives you an awkward smile and shoots back the rest of his drink before waving the bartender for a refill.

You stand up, and announce that you're going back to the motel. You catch Dean’s eye, and he gives you a small smile. He follows you, he isn't sure why, but he lets his legs take him outside to where you're sitting on top of Baby’s hood staring at the stars.

“I thought you were heading back?” Dean walks over to you, and hikes himself next to you on the hood. You look over at him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“I remember when the stars were first created. Oh, it was beautiful. I think, sometimes, I wanna be on one day.”

Dean smiles at you and lets the stars catch his attention. Your hand glides over his for a second, and he can feel the goosebumps that litter his skin.

“Can I ask you a question, Dean?”

“Shoot.” He responds.

“Do you like the stars?” He thinks for a second before nodding.

“I think they're beautiful.” Dean says, but secretly, the skies barely have his attention. Your skin is lit up by the moonlight and stars that shine.

Your lips touch his cheek, lingering for a second before you woosh away. You leave him in his dust, only left with the feeling of your lips on his cheek.

Dean Winchester was in love with an angel. It wasn't figurative either.

#dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x cowgirl!reader #supernatural x reader #dean winchester and his cowgirl [part 1 : the explanation]

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assortedvillainvault · 4 months

Note

Me, sending Thalassa another ask after a long tumblr absence? It's more likely than you think ;)

My request this time is more Shen x Reader...but through the Henchwolves' POV

Gimme that minion gossip 😆

It's benn a Goddamn Minute since I wrote anything for the murderbird, please accept this humble offering my friend! This is set loosely within Shen's hostile takeover of his family's palace, just pretend it's taking a few months longer for Po and the Furious Five to arrive.

Lord Shen x Reader (Henchwolves POV)

Sooo...the boss’s in looovvveee…

Ok well it’s more like Shen is speed-cycling through every emotion under the sun, like some kind of cursed knife throwing merry-go-round.

From an outside perspective that part is no different to how he normally is, really, potato tomato.

But ever since YOU entered the picture, he’s been swinging between regality and rage like it’s going out of fashion.

This would normally be time for the wolves to about-face and shamelessly hide behind the hired muscle of the rhino and gorilla guards, but between your bemused reactions and the Soothsayers amused snorts they have front row seats to China’s cheesiest love story and they’re not missing ANY of the drama.

Don’t forget, the wolves have followed Shen for nearly two decades by now – they know him. His ins and outs, his twitches and grandiose gestures. The way his right eyelid twitches when he can’t feel the knives in his sleeves.

They’re not familiar with the way his elegant steps stumble when you surprise him. Or how he loses his train of thought and sputters when you question his judgement. Or how he seems to fight the noble training of several years to fidget with his robes before posing just so to meet with you.

Guards from both the throne room and the gardens noticed his tail sweeping and twitching when talking to you, and in their experience, Shen’s tail is a dead giveaway for his flintstrike temper and at the time they were 99% certain he was about to stick a knife in your back and call it a day…

...until he presented you with a custom ordered gift and his overwrought nerves had his tail nearly leap into it’s classic fan as he awkwardly swallowed a squawk into a cough, trying to pretend this was a spur of the moment thing rather something he'd agonized over in private for five days.

At guard change they all but barged into the guardroom mess, hollering and sniggering.

“Shen’s PRESENTING!”

Chaos ensues. Bets are taken, at least one table is broken. One poor bastard ends up tossed from a fifth story window. He's probably fine.

It’s all boss wolf can do not to roll his eyes.

In contrast to the rest of the henchman – he operates much closer to Shen in a day to day capacity. So HE’s the poor bugger having to endure Shen’s erratic mumbling as the neurotic bird pores over battle plans, supply chains, letters and negotiations from nobility and powerful individuals to bribe. All that, he can deal with.

...What he can’t deal with is the way Shen’s eyes will glaze over mid mumble and suddenly he’s got an earful of spoiled royal lamenting how 50 reams of china’s finest silks isn’t even close enough to a satisfactory nest and How is he supposed to curry your favour if you only have 25 colours to choose from???

Fucking. BIRDS and their obsession with shiny shit.

Meanwhile, the Soothsayer is very much enjoying watching Shen work himself into a knot over whether or not he should ask her for a love life prediction.

It’s just a waiting game before he cracks. And she’s more than happy to trip him up and poke fun in the meantime, catching your eye from the background and winking as she eats his sashes and pulls fake prophesies out of her ass.

(She approves of you, don’t worry, and she lowkey is happy for Shen to have found someone as wonderful as you, but also: you deserve better and her lingering fondness for Shen as his former nanny doesn’t blind her to that.)

Hope you enjoyed these headcannons friend!

#thalassa responds #lord shen #kfp lord shen #shen x reader #x reader #Shen is probably my favourite of the kfp villains #I'm just never sure if I can get the balance of 'capable visionary who is a legitimate threat'#and 'overwrought hairtrigger bundle of spite given form'#and 'accidentally hilarious sassmaster' together in the right amount

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seresinhangmanjake · 11 months

Text

Oh Wow

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake sees you for the first time and his life is never the same again.

Warnings: Allusion to smut, kinda (not w/reader). Cursing. Mention of alcohol.

Notes: Flashback part of the Oh, Baby Universe, but can definitely be read alone.

Words: 1900

Jake watched you through the mass of people. Every move you made. The shape of your lips as you spoke to other patrons. The uncertainty in your choices as you attempted to fill orders. He’d never seen you before, but wherever you came from, you sure as hell weren’t a bartender. You clearly had little idea of what you were doing, but the smile on your face hiding the hint of nerves was charming enough to distract anyone. Whether approaching you for alcohol or a moment of your attention, people suddenly found themselves incredibly patient. He noticed you adding a bit too much whiskey to an Old Fashioned that made the man asking for it nearly choke, and so much syrup to a cocktail that the drinker would undoubtedly get a sugar rush, but the receivers of both grinned through the mistakes, winked at you, and eventually came back for more.

You were something else; that was undeniable. And whatever power you had over everyone extended to Jake the moment he laid eyes on you. It floated over and wrapped itself around him in a neatly tied little bow that he had zero intention of undoing. It kept him tethered to his spot, allowing him to have a clear view of you and forcing him to leave his friends in the back of his mind. They gave him questioning looks, but he didn’t care. He’d never before yearned and craved as instantly as he did when he saw you.

"This is the first time I've ever witnessed you giving all of your attention to a woman who hasn't even bothered to notice you yet,” Rooster said, coming up beside him. "It's interesting. Refreshing.” He took a sip of his beer, obnoxiously smacking his lips as he savored the amber liquid. "A nice change of pace, you know?"

Teasing was inevitable. As the night carried on Jake had heard his teammates’ snickers gather in frequency—something he wasn’t known for letting them get away with, especially after such an exhausting workday, but his sour mood flipped after stepping into the bar and he easily let it all go.

Rooster kept speaking, but Jake only found it to be an irritating buzz in his ear that was unsuccessful in getting him to tear his gaze away from the woman before him. "Do you know much about her?"

Rooster playfully scoffed at the interruption. "She's only been working here a few nights. Penny hired her last week,” he informed Jake. "She's new in town. Real sweet thing."

You suddenly laughed, head thrown back in unrestrained joy, and Jake swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly in his throat. His peripherals saw Rooster’s head make a quick turn as if he knew how that melodic sound would affect him. How it would impact his pulse, the blood rushing through his veins, adding a pink tinge to his cheeks.

The other pilot blew out a breath. “Well shit, man. Did you already pick out your future kids' names?"

"Shut up."

"China patterns?"

"Leave me alone."

Rooster’s lips pressed together in a hum. He didn’t show any indication of doing as Jake demanded, so Jake figured he’d use him as long as he might still be useful.

“What’s her name?” Jake asked. He hadn't realized how badly he needed your name; how desperate he was for it. Might have begged for it if Rooster wouldn’t give it over.

“You’ve got children and a china pattern and you don’t even know her name? A bit backwards, don’t you think?”

Jake finally tore his eyes away from you just to shoot Rooster the glare he deserved. “I’m never saving your life again.”

“Well, if that’s going to be your attitude then you can just ask her yourself.” He raised a dark brow in challenge. Rooster knew, just as Jake did, that he’d never looked at a woman the way he looked at you. That changed the game. Caused his confidence to stutter.

But he managed to calmly, evenly say, "Fine. I will.”

And he would…eventually.

—-

Approaching you wasn’t one of the simpler tasks Jake had faced in his life but he mustered the will nonetheless, taking step after step until he was directly in front of you. Only two feet of cherry wood bartop kept you out of arms reach, and goddamn, did he wish it wasn't there so he could reach out, touch you, feel you.

It had grown late without him noticing. The crowd had died down and you immediately took note of him, looking up to meet his stunned stare. If he thought you were beautiful from afar, up close…up close you were otherworldly, and Jake was thankful he hadn’t attempted to speak because there was no way he would have been able to keep from choking on his first word.

“Hi,” you said, smiling wide, your eyes bright. His heart clenched. “What can I get you?”

“Uh…” Right. He was supposed to want something. Well, he did want something, but not to drink. “Just a beer. Please.”

He hadn’t realized your shoulders were so tense, high up to your ears until they relaxed. Your chest deflated. “Oh, thank god.”

“Long night?”

"You could say so." You reached below the bar to grab a glass, asked him his preference, and began to fill it before continuing. “Don’t tell anyone,” you said, “but I’m not very good at this.”

The honesty was wildly endearing. He couldn’t help but grin and shake his head as the apparent ease of speaking with you settled a blanket of comfort over him. Leaning forward and resting his forearms across the bar, he said, “Nah, don’t worry Honey, you’re doing fine.”

You placed the glass in front of him, curiosity swirling in your gaze. “You’ve been watching me?”

Then Jake’s spine immediately straightened like someone had shoved a wooden board up the back of his shirt. The nerves he thought he’d freed made themselves known once again. He cleared his throat to buy time in searching for an excuse to have been staring at you all night, but you saved him from having to find one.

“I’m just teasing,” you chuckled. “And don’t worry about your future drinks. I plan to do a lot of practicing, so I’ll be a pro in no time. I promise.”

Jake released his held breath. Fuck, he liked you. He liked you and it took next to nothing to have him falling into an emotional well he wouldn’t so simply climb his way out of.

He extended his hand your way. “I’m Jake,” he started, “Seresin.”

Your palm slid against his. Soft. So damn soft. He held onto you for as long as he could, and you didn’t seem in any hurry to pull away, but eventually you did with a blush spreading over your cheeks. You gave him your name. It was perfect; beautiful. Everything about you was so, so beautiful.

“So you're Jake Seresin,” you said, unraveling the thread of tension. “Well, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“You know me?”

“Of you,” you confirmed. “I’ve heard a bit from Penny’s nephew and one or two of the other bartenders.”

Jake internally groaned. Rooster and past flings were not where he wanted you gathering your information. Of anyone—anyone—in the state of California to speak on his behalf, they were not likely to do so highly. Rooster was, well…Rooster, and those other bartenders were participants in a past experience that, while a truly unique time, Jake had tried to put far behind him after upsetting them by denying their offer for a repeat performance.

With a sigh, he said, “Whatever they told you, it’s all lies.”

“Is that right?” you asked, crossing your arms. “So you’re not one of the best pilots this country has to offer?”

Alright, that one he didn’t expect. Maybe he’d be buying his friend a few of your signature questionable drinks in the near future.

“And you’re not a good kisser?”

Oh, God. His eyelids pinched briefly. That required more of an explanation. “Um…ok so—” Your fingers pressed to your lips to conceal a giggle and all embarrassment sloughed away from Jake’s body. A grin took its place. You were a damn angel for taking information like that and making light of it to alleviate any discomfort. "I take it back. You’ve been talking to the most honest people you’ll ever come by.”

You laughed again and you really had to stop doing that because it was pulling him apart piece by piece and turning him into a mass of mush on the floor.

“I hope the same can be said for you,” you smirked. “If I ever look bad or something, be sure to let me know.”

“Honey, you’ve never looked bad a day in your life. I guarantee it.”

It was out of his mouth so quickly. The amusement in your eyes fell to something deeper as the curve of your lips settled into a gentle part, a perfect space slightly separating them; enough for his tongue to slip between if he ever had the chance to kiss you. Eyes connected, boring into one another and once again surfacing that lovely tension.

He could stay there for ages if he wasn’t so concerned with what was passing through your mind. But he’d never know, because with a few rapid flutters of your eyelids and a sift of your fingers through your hair, that tension—those tight threads weaving throughout his stomach and chest—snapped.

Your tongue darted out to dampen your lips. “Let me ask you something, Jake Seresin.”

“Anything.”

You leaned over the bar a bit and he did the same; drawn forward by your magnetic pull.

Looking away from him, you swallowed as if weighing the words you planned to give him. Then your eyes flitted up to his. “Do you come here as often as your teammates?”

Whatever you had debated speaking aloud no longer mattered because what came out of those pillowy lips was so much better than anything he had mentally prepared himself for. Let me ask you something, Jake Seresin…are you normally this forward? This aggressive? This cocky that you could pathetically flirt with a woman like me? But no, you were asking him what he did, how he spent his time, maybe, just maybe, hoping he’d spend more of it in your presence.

“Would you like me to come here often?” he asked. No playfulness behind the question, but a genuine need to hear your agreement. Just an inkling that you wanted him around as much as he wanted to be around you.

“I would.” You gave a nod. “If I’m honest, Jake, I'd like to have someone—a friend.”

A friend. A friend he could be. I’d be anything for you, he found himself thinking before he could absorb how needy that made him sound. But he was needy. He wanted more. He’d always want more. The little you’d given him since he approached you was like tossing crumbs to a starving man.

“Then, Honey,” Jake said, his lips peeled back in a broad grin, “you’ve got yourself a friend.”

And one day, maybe it would be more.

----

tags: @wkndwlff @genius2050 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life

A/N: Turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing :) Or Tag List here

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #top gun hangman #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin x female!reader #top gun jake seresin

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writemekpop · 1 year

Text

Shotgun Fiancé | Kim Doyoung

Summary: Your boyfriend tells his parents you’re engaged. You have to play along….

Genre: Established relationship AU, angsty, suggestive at the end

Word Count: 0.7k

KNOCK KNOCK

You stand in front of Doyoung's door, heart racing.

It's Doyoung's family reunion, and as his girlfriend of three years, you are expected to attend.

Doyoung pulls the door open. You twirl, expecting him to compliment your outfit, and maybe kiss away your nerves.

But he doesn't compliment you. He doesn't even smile. Doyoung just grabs your arm and pulls you into the house.

"Just play along," Doyoung said through gritted teeth. You had just arrived to meet his family.

"What do you m-"

"Y/n, darling, you're here!" Doyoung’s mother pulled you in for a tight hug, her perfume sickly sweet.

"Congratulations!" she said, pinching your cheeks.

You glance at Doyoung, confused, but he's gnawing at his fingernail and avoiding your gaze.

"Congratulations for what?"

Doyoung's mother shook her head, laughing. "For your engagement, silly!"

Your mouth fell open.

Doyoung laughed loudly and swung his arm over your shoulder. "And that's the face she made when I proposed!"

When his mother was out of earshot, you turned to him.

"Engaged? What the hell?"

Doyoung rolled his eyes. "I needed something. My brother made partner at his law firm. And ran a marathon for some stupid orphan charity." Doyoung scowled. "Brown noser."

"And you had to get engaged?"

Doyoung shrugged. "My parents are eating it up. Plus, a girlfriend is like the one thing Johnny doesn’t have. Just fake it.”

Despite how petty Doyoung was being, your heart fluttered at the thought of being Doyoung's fiancé… even a fake one.

"And when we're you going to tell me about this?"

"I just thought of it an hour ago!" Doyoung whined. "Come on, baby. You can fake it, can't you?"

You winked. "I guess I have some experience in faking it."

Doyoung shot you a look. "One more thing." He grabbed your left hand and slid a diamond ring on your fourth finger. It fit perfectly.

You gasped. "Where did you get this?"

"Some great aunt – while Miracle Child got the 24 karat gold ring from my mother, I was stuck with this one. No surprises there.”

Linking your arms together, you walked into the living room and faced your audience.

---

At the end of the night, you were exhausted.

You and Doyoung slumped side by side on his bed, too tired to change out of your fancy clothes.

You'd just spent the last three hours being congratulated by virtual strangers. You'd had to make up stories about how he proposed, how your family reacted, what wedding China you would pick out…

A single tear trickled down your cheek. You sniffed.

Doyoung, who was lying with his eyes closed, turned towards you.

"Hey, what’s wrong?"

"I don't know," you said, roughly swiping away your tears.

Doyoung touched your arm lightly, but you shrugged him off and jumped off the bed.

"This is a bit... much, Doyoung. I’m going to stay at mine tonight."

You twisted the ring on your finger, trying to pull it off. But it wouldn't budge. A burst of pain shot up your hand.

"Fuck!"

Doyoung jumped off the bed and took your hands in his. Gently, he pulled the ring off your finger.

Your breaths slowed.

Doyoung pressed his forehead against yours and shut his eyes. "I'm sorry I sprung that fake engagement on you. It wasn't cool."

You hummed in agreement.

"I love you, Y/n. And you know… I want it all. Two kids, the little cottage on the edge of town, the minivan…”

You couldn't help but smile. "I want that too. Just… leave the proposal to me next time, alright?”

Doyoung grinned "Hell yeah. I want to be pampered. Flowers, chocolates, candles… treat me like a princess."

"That there - is why I love you."

You pulled Doyoung in for a kiss, still laughing as your lips met.

Doyoung would make the perfect husband.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

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eyesofshinigami · 3 months

Text

Three Little Words

Rating: T

CW: none

Tags: Established relationship, tiny bit of angst, kisses

Prompt: For @quinns-shadowy-arts "Love is saying 'I love you' even when you're scared"

WC: 1091

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 21

Three little words.

Three little words that burned like acid on his tongue when he tried to say them. Three little words that he knew he felt, every single time his heart beat in a rhythm of Steve, Steve, Steve, but he couldn’t make himself say. It was just three little words. Three little words that he knew his boyfriend wanted to hear more than anything.

They both bore scars from those three, simple little words. Steve’s parents used them in a lofty, detached sort of way, trotted out for appearances just like the nice china. Eddie’s parents wielded them like a weapon, his father using them as an excuse for why he behaved the way he did. The old “I only do this because I love you” that Eddie learned very early in life had absolutely nothing to do with those three little words.

It had taken Eddie a very long time to even be open to the possibility of saying them to someone else. Even with Wayne, his father in everything but blood, never got to hear them out of his mouth. Wayne didn’t say them much either, had other ways to show it than speaking it out loud.

The problem was, Eddie really wanted to say them out loud. He wanted to croon them in Steve’s ear when they were pressed together in bed, or whisper them into his mouth during a good night kiss, or even whisper them into Steve’s skin when they were both shaking in bed from nightmares of the horrors they’d seen. His chest ached with it, but his stubborn mouth refused.

So, he threw himself into showing Steve. Night drives together, cuddling in the van, making love in one of their beds until neither of them could stand it, falling asleep together after… all of these things painted the picture of what he wanted to say, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

He needed to say them. He just didn’t know how.

“How do you tell someone you… you know…” Eddie asked one day when he and Wayne were sitting outside, smoking together. It was a warm, clear night, the stars winking above them.

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “No, I don’t know. Mostly because I have no idea what you’re trying to ask me, son.” He took a drag from his cigarette. “Is this about Steve? Are you trying to break up with him?”

Eddie spluttered. The very idea made his heart feel like it was going to fall right out of his chest. “What the fuck, no! The opposite! I want to tell Steve that… you know…” Just say it. It’s right there. Just say it, you fucking coward.

“Ah. You want to tell Steve you love him,” Wayne said after a moment.

Eddie swallowed. “Yeah. I just… you know… can’t. I try to say it but it’s like my brain won’t let me.”

Wayne let out a sigh and stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray by the bench. “I get it. Sometimes it can be hard, especially after what you kids went through.” He sighed, rubbing his chin. “But I think you should just try. Steve’ll get it.”

Eddie nodded, but it didn’t stop the angry swirl of his stomach or the burn on the back of his tongue.

–

He waited until the next night, after he’d picked Steve up. They grabbed some fast food and drove out to the quarry, parking and opening up the van. It was another nice night, the half moon blazing bright in the night sky. Perfect night for a little romantic rendezvous.

“This is nice,” Steve said, pulling out their burgers and fries. “It’s nice to be able to hear myself think after being around the kids all day.” He popped a fry in his mouth and then leaned over, pressing a greasy kiss to Eddie’s mouth.

It should have been gross, but all it did was make that feeling in his chest grow stronger, the need build higher. Fuck, it shouldn’t be so hard, but Eddie was terrified. What if Steve didn’t feel the same? What if he used it against him, just like his dad had? What if, what if, what if…

“Eds? You okay?” Steve asked, breaking Eddie out of his spiraling thoughts. His brow was furrowed and the corners of his mouth were turned down. “Do we need to go?”

Eddie shook his head, trying to gather every ounce of courage he had. Three little words. That’s all it was. “No, I’m good. I just… I really need to tell you something.”

Steve kept frowning, sitting back. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“I just… Steve…I…”

“If you’re going to break up with me, can you please just get it over with?” Steve said sadly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Why does everyone keep thinking that? No, Steve. I love you, why would I break up with you?”

It got so quiet, Eddie was pretty sure he’d be able to hear a pin drop. That wasn’t quite how he’d planned to say it, but now it was out there. Nothing he could do now. “Steve?”

Steve looked back at him, pretty mouth dropped open and his eyes sparkling, just like the stars above them. “You love me? You mean it?”

Eddie felt his whole body soften. He could still feel them there, burning in the back of his throat, but that feeling was being overtaken by the way his stomach fluttered, how pretty Steve’s blush looked under the moonlight. “Of course I do. I just… those words are hard to say, you know?”

Fingers entwined with his own and pulled him close, Steve breathing against his mouth from where their foreheads were pressed together. “I do. Thank you for saying them. I thought so, but… you know I love you too, right?” At Eddie’s nod, Steve continued, “I didn’t want to say them first, either. The last time, it kind of blew up in my face, but… I’ve felt it for months now. You’re kind of it for me, you know?”

“I do,” Eddie replied, grinning so wide his face hurt a little. “I’m sorry I was scared to say it.”

“I was too. But now we don’t have to be. That was the hard part.” Steve closed that last little bit to kiss Eddie again, deeper and sweeter than the last one. It felt good. It felt right. It felt like nothing was ever going to be the same again, in the best way.

It felt like those three little words.

#steddie #steddielovemonth #les writes things

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pervcoded · 13 days

Text

one flew over starring mitsuya takashi

content warning(s) domineering and controlling behavior. inappropriate behavior towards strangers/non-consensual touching. sexual discussions. mentions of human trafficking. stalking (minor). mitsuya is a bird hybrid. gn!reader

He notices you at the mall.

Harpy's eyes see all, and you’re too busy looking nervous, showing your less interesting friends how cute your ass looks, that you don't perceive him at all.

Ones who are as doe-eyed, pathetic, and as precious as you.

Mitsuya reckons it's jealousy. It’s not like humans are all bad.

He can concede that your people are weaker than him - hell, he could probably tear your pillowy flesh to ribbons with a flex of his talons, flap a wing and send you colliding to the ground with the force of the gale, but you humans have your own uses, individual purposes.

He's worked with humans as a fashion designer. Mostly assistants; coffee picker-uppers and donut deliverers and chauffeurs. Models of your kind aren't common.

But it's not impossible- sometimes a flower blooms from the concrete, and he's seen beautiful humans before. He's seen them naked, clothed, bouncing on his cock, but none of them were worth stopping and staring at.

None of them were worth more than a polite nod or a 'Thank you, sweetheart,' - perhaps a 'good pet' if they squeeze down on him just right.

The thought of them didn't roost, slinking out of the grooves of his mind. He normally wouldn't be caught dead yearning for some human.

Good thing nobody's minding him now, then.

After seeing you, the thought of keeping you feels a little more romantic. Pleasant to the ear. A gift to the self - wholly indulgent in every sense of the world because

You, against the backdrop of the world, are a sky full of shimmering gold - the muse that’s eluded him all his natural life. Remarkable figure, this natural charm about your aura. You're demure, sweet even, fussing about your friend's outfits even if you've tragically outshined them.

You have star potential. He can imagine you in his latest sets, a permanent fixture in his private studio - even outfitted with your own little stage.

He quickly makes up his mind about it, and steps into your bubble. He’s as quiet as a wink ‘cause you don’t notice him until you mind his shadow eclipsing you, stepping back in abject horror as you turn to behold him. Terrifyingly beautiful.

Buying humans is usually easy - when they have handlers.

You’re stood; stuck and stupid and gaping and gawking and he thinks it's something he should charge your owner more for, before he notices the lack of identification tag on you. Your friends fade into background and shadow as he makes you do a few turns.

You’re clumsy! Adorable, but inexperienced. Can’t even look at him without sweating - pupils dilating, desperate for something to land on that isn’t his face. He cups your chin as delicately; a collector examining fine china. Feathers cling to his elbows and arms; frame an alien face.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, human?” He chats too casually. Your lips quiver in place, his eyes narrowing derisively. “Speak when you’re spoken to, yeah? It’ll be good for you to learn to respect your betters.” He touches the top of your head, extremely comfortable for a man you’ve met less than a minute ago.

Forgive you for being a little stunned, you suppose. “O-okay,” The way he smiles down at you makes you feel even more uncertain. You’re a quick learner, that’s great. He straightens up, applies light pressure to your head. “And?”

You nearly draw your eyes down in confusion but try to remain neutral faced as you ponder what he could possibly want. The pressure grows as you take your time, your legs trembling ever so slightly under the weight of his claw. You’re teary by the time you’re pushing out a petrified, “...thank you?” and he laughs genuinely, bending down to your height. It dawns on you in this very moment how tall he is. His smile twists his face, would look more at home on a cat.

“Are you asking me? Or ya telling me?”

“T-telling, sir.” He coos affectionately at the honorific, talons skimming along the fat of your cheek. Something damp trickles down your face.

“Good.”

He’ll work on fixing your stutter later.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀TOKREV/BANNER ART by @/KenWakui

all content written by me @ciematis, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

#tokyo revengers #mitsuya takashi x reader #tokyo rev #tokrev #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya takashi x you #hybrid #bird!hybrid #tokyo revengers imagines #tr fanfic #tokrev fanfic #mitsuya imagines #mitsuya x reader #tokrev x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #🪻┆all eyes on me.

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wordsbyvani · 3 months

Text

König watches an aerial artist... that's all.

He didn’t want to be here.

An art museum is no place for someone like König. He’s only here for some charity banquet-show with his company as a museum benefactor. Just so happens that he has a high-ranking position and was chosen to represent them for tonight’s event. Usually he can push feelings aside when it comes to work—a routine with which he’s become all too familiar—but this is different.

He likens himself to a bull in a china shop: one wrong move and delicacy shatters around him. Surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands, of pieces that are the epitome of elegance and meaning. Sure, he knows the meanings and concepts behind the works, can recognize the finery. But it’s the opposite of all that he is: rough, brazen, vulgar. Somehow, pictures in frames, sleek statues, and the refined viewers gracing the halls make him feel as though he’s a laughing stock of sorts. All eyes, be they crafted or alive, are on the giant bathing in blood and souls.

Yes, there are pieces depicting violence, war, despair. But it’s too sophisticated, too dignified. The crimson doesn’t smell metallic, doesn’t pool at his feet. The figures don’t scream and wail and hurl curses, faces twisted with disdain. Perhaps scenes brought to life for the masses but dull for those who’ve lived them.

He rips himself away from the endless halls of mockery to take his seat before the show starts. The program shoved into his hands on the way in says something about an aerial artist—great, more art. An announcer beckons everyone to settle in; the show is about to begin. The lights hit, the spotlight on, and it rains red. And through a tidepool of scarlet and dramatic musical accompaniment, she is born.

Gliding on the wings of a phoenix, she turns to ashes as she spirals and twirls, only to grab the burning feathers of evanescence and propel herself up once more. A baby bird, naked and needy, morphs into a godlike inferno. Sparks, flames, colors. Determination. A cycle of death and rebirth unfolding before his very eyes, in the midst: her.

She morphs with the art around her. The dull works of elegance with which he just couldn’t resonate abandon stagnancy to dance all around; their colors, shapes, textures a tornado swirling to embody the main star of the show.

The musical accompaniment softens, and she stills—a phoenix no more. He recognizes only the underbelly of a black widow, dangling from pheromone-laced silk. Lustful eyes set a fixed gaze as she hangs, enticing him to partake readily.

If he accepted, would she strike? Paralyzed by venomous fangs, spinning, encased in the prison of her bloody trap. Or would she allow him to scale her web, ripping away the silks and traces of rivals as he climbed to reach her? Silently begging as he covers her body to let him consume, devour, before she has had her fill and disposes of him—his purpose served, a body needed no more. He would gladly accept such a fate for merely a taste.

Then she descends. Slowly, head thrown back in ecstasy, the silks creating ripples that cascade in a whirlpool around her. He restrains himself from reaching out, an arm that would tear the fabric from the rafters, waiting for her to fall into the welcome embrace of his arms and never let go.

The trance is broken when she touches the ground, the audience roaring with applause. A humble grin graces her face as she bows, waving and blowing kisses to her adoring spectators. For a brief moment, her eyes fall upon him, and something flickers. With a tilt of her head and curiosity in her eyes, her smile widens. A kiss is blown directly at him with a cheeky wink.

Perhaps he does enjoy fine art after all.

#könig #drabblez

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