#I know he’s chopped himself without knowing he is not careful with that thing

[mumms-the-word]

Forearms

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Dani) Summary: Set immediately after this fic about Dani settling into a new life with her companions on the road, Dani offers to mend Gale's robe. Which involves him having to take it off, naturally. (no smut, just Dani being ridiculous about Gale's forearms) A/N: This is 100% the moment where Dani is like "oh no he's hot." She thinks everyone is hot, but this is the moment where Gale starts to rise above everyone for her. It's silly, it's stupid, and I wrote it like months ago, but y'all asked for it lmao also yes this does adhere to the Gale Wrap Shirt Theory (I just borrowed Astarion's shirt because I don't have mods)

Dani stretched out her back and got to her feet, leaving behind her now-sorted camp supplies to make her way over to Gale and his cooking fire. She peered down into the pot before looking at Gale. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Stew,” Gale said, smiling apologetically. “I hesitate to give it any more of a descriptor than that. Oh, and a few leftover loaves of bread, too. Might as well use them up before they go bad. I think one of them was starting to mold…”

He said this last line to himself, turning to rifle through the box that contained most of their food. He pulled out a small, torn half-loaf of bread and examined it, turning it this way and that before tearing it and peering inside. Dani reached over and plucked the smaller half from his fingers, claiming it for herself. She tore off a bit and popped it into her mouth.

“Seems decent to me,” she said.

Gale looked briefly alarmed before shaking his head, amused. “You’d probably eat it even if it had mold on it.”

“Not true. I’d scrape the mold off first and eat around it. Wouldn’t be the first time.” She raised her eyebrows at him as she pulled off another bite of bread to eat, silently challenging him to judge her.

Gale made a face but didn’t respond, turning back to his stew and flicking his wrist. The spectral mage hand that was stirring the pot lifted the ladle for him to inspect. He picked up a small spoon from his utensil set (of course he had a utensil set wrapped in leather, a hodgepodge set he’d collected over the last couple of days, but that he kept packed away like it was some sort of adventurer’s kit) and used the spoon to taste the broth in the ladle.

“Hmm…nearly there, I think,” he said. He let the mage hand go back to stirring while he wiped his spoon on a bit of cloth he had tucked into his belt. “Gods, what I wouldn’t give for my spice shelf. Or just some extra salt.”

“Just add it to the list of things we’ll buy as soon as we see any,” Dani said, still eating her bit of bread piece by little torn piece. “I know I have a running list of my own.”

“Far be it from me to add to your growing shopping list of potentially expensive and ever practical items,” Gale said dryly, “but if you do happen to find a small case of salt, or any spice really, I think we’d all be a little better for it. It shouldn’t detract too much from your funds. I know you’re careful with your money.”

She arched an eyebrow. As the team’s craftiest barterer, she was in possession of most of the money, and her companions had already watched her haggle and cajole until a price was a bit closer to where she’d prefer it to be. Sometimes it took a minute.

She thought about pointing out that she was “careful” with her gold for a variety of reasons, including stocking up an emergency fund for magical items should his arcane hunger trigger and she find herself without something to give him. But she stayed silent, watching him pull a few herbs from their food box and set them on a flat rock he’d taken to using as a cutting board. He sat with the rock in his lap, cutting the herbs up with a dagger that he kept on hand for food preparation. As he turned to hold the rock over the cookpot and brush the chopped herbs into the stew, she noticed a bit of white peeking through his purple robe sleeve, right at the shoulder seam. A tear in the fabric.

“Take off your robe,” she said.

He jolted, nearly dropping the rock and dagger directly into the stew. “I beg your pardon?” Maybe it was the firelight and the darkening shadows of dusk, but Dani could have sworn his face was suddenly pinker than before.

“Your robe,” Dani said, tossing the last bit of bread into her mouth and holding out her hand. “Take it off. You’ve got a tear.”

“Wha—a tear?” Gale looked all down his arms and the front of his robe before twisting his neck to spot the rip in his shoulder. “Argh, damn. This was one of my better robes, too…”

Dani snickered and gestured for him to get on with it. “Come on, hand it over. I’ll fix it for you.”

“What—now?” 

“Why not? You’re busy. Everyone else is busy—well, except Astarion. And I can mend it for you.”

Gale looked a little surprised. “I didn’t know you could mend.”

She shrugged. “My mother is a seamstress and I used to help her out every now and again. Plus, when you’re on the road, you have to keep up with a few skills. You’re just lucky we have a bit of needle and thread on hand. So.” She gestured again with her hand.

Gale squirmed as if uncomfortable. “I’m sure it can wait. The stew is nearly ready and we’re all about to dress down for the night. I can give it to you then.”

Dani rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Gale. If it was armor Lae’zel would be hounding you until you gave it up for her to fix. If it was your spellbook you’d want to mend it as soon as possible. Just take it off and let me do it.”

“Fine, fine.” He held up his hands, his face still a little flushed, but he acquiesced. He undid the belt around his middle and tugged off his leather bracers before finally untying the robe and shrugging it off. He still looked a little sheepish, but he willingly handed the robe over to her. 

The moment the robe was off, something shifted in Dani’s mind. She realized only then that she’d only ever seen him either fully dressed in his robes or in his velvety lounge clothes, but never in just his white wrap shirt and high-waisted pants. She paused a moment, her eyes roving over his form. In just his shirt, pants, and boots, he cut a trim figure, looking a bit like one of the handsome men drawn on the covers of tawdry romance novels she used to read back in Baldur’s Gate. Especially when he set one hand on his hip and frowned faintly at her, his earring glinting in the firelight.

“I hope it won’t take too long,” he said.

She blinked. Oh right, the robe. “It’s a simple tear, super easy to fix,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She turned and hurried away, her own face feeling a little warm. Was she honestly thinking…no. Well—maybe. Gale was handsome. No point in ignoring otherwise. But Gale in just a shirt and trousers? Or, perhaps, Gale in just his trousers…or, going further, Gale in nothing but—

Gods, Dani! She mentally shook herself and sat back down at her bedroll, digging her sewing kit from her bag. Now was not the time. She said she’d mend his robe and she would, so she had better get started.

But mending was mindless work for her, leaving her alone to her thoughts, so of course her mind drifted back to the subject of Gale as she dragged needle and thread through the purple fabric of his robe. Why was she only now struck by how handsome he looked? Sure, she’d flirted with him before, but she flirted harmlessly with everyone in camp. It wasn’t her fault she was surrounded by attractive companions. But Gale…

She glanced surreptitiously at him as he worked by the cooking fire, his focus on the food. He’d rolled up his sleeves to his elbows to keep his cuffs away from the food, which was honestly worse for Dani. Rolled up sleeves and forearms? She could just swoon. She watched as he packed away unused food items and utensils, muscles in his forearms flexing, the dark hair on his arms made darker by the dusk and firelight. He stood back and rested both hands on his hips as he watched the stew, his white shirt stretching a little more tightly across his chest.

She bit her lip and focused back on the robe. Just get it done, girl, and then give it back so you can go back to thinking he’s just a fun, quirky wizard nerd and not the hottest guy in camp.

Oh gods, if only.

...was he the hottest guy in camp? 

She glanced around quickly at Astarion, still lounging with his book. His lips made a pretty pout as he read and his hair was damn near perfect, but he didn’t make Dani’s heart flutter in quite the same way the sight of Gale in his wrap shirt and rolled up sleeves did. She searched for Wyll, walking around in his ragged black tank and black trousers, his biceps glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as he carried the last of the firewood over to Gale. Even with his devil horns, he was an attractive man. Dani was tempted to think he was even hotter than Gale—until Wyll set the fire down near Gale and Dani was forced to compare the two of them again.

…damn. What was it about Gale?

Gale glanced her way, raising his eyebrows at her questioningly when he caught her staring. She felt her heart go ba-dump like some cliche heroine in a romance novel and she quickly lowered her gaze back to her work.

Damn it. It was his eyes wasn’t it? His big, stupid, wet brown eyes, made darker and richer in the evening light. That and those stupid forearms she’d never seen before.

She almost wished she could go back to fifteen minutes ago, when she thought Gale was “handsome enough” but not exactly tempting. Not with Astarion smirking at her from across the campfire and Wyll flirting with all of them, not to mention all the flirting she’d done with Karlach and Shadowheart and Lae’zel too. She forced her attention back on the final stitches, determined to get this robe fixed as soon as possible.

She finished the last stitch and knotted the thread, giving the fabric a little tug on either side of the mended seam to test the strength of her work. Not bad, she had to admit. It almost looked as good as new.

She looked back at Gale and then down at the robe. She should give it back. Right now. Immediately. But…then again…if she kept it longer, he’d have to walk around without it longer. Which meant more eye candy for her, in theory. She pursed her lips, glancing back at Gale again.

No! She had to give it back. Now or never, Dani!

She got to her feet and walked back over to the fire, his purple robe tossed over her arm. He looked up from the cookpot again as she stopped near him.

“All finished?” he asked. “You do quick work.”

“Thanks,” she said, holding out the robe to him. Be casual, Dani girl, don’t be odd. “I’m famished. How much longer until dinnertime?” Success!

“Any moment now, I suspect.” 

He took the robe and examined the seams, running his thumb over the stitches. She was caught up watching his hands, admiring the perfect shape of his nails and how long and slender his fingers were. A pianist’s hands, she thought idly. An artist's hands. The kind of hands she'd want drawing patterns on her skin, fingers curling into her softer parts, sliding up her thighs to—snap out of it!

She sucked a short breath through her nose, trying to distract herself. Her gaze traveled up to his wrists, and then his bared forearms. There was a faint hint of ash lingering in his arm hairs from standing so close to the fire. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed it away. He looked up, surprised and she snatched her hand back, hiding it behind her back like she’d done something wrong.

“Sorry,” she said. “Just some—some ash. You should probably put that robe back on. As soon as possible, probably.”

Oh gods, she could just die.

Gale stared at her a moment before glancing at his arms again and then the robe. She saw something shift in his expression as his eyes came back up to meet hers, but she dared not interpret it. That, she thought, would be a dangerous mind game and her imagination was already working overtime.

“Well,” she said, and hated how weirdly breathless the word came out of her mouth. She cleared her throat. “I’ll go fetch the others, then, shall I?”

Without waiting for him to respond, she turned on her heel and hurried away, intending to go after whoever was the furthest away from the cook fire. Surely she’d cool off in the time it took to gather everyone. Fantasies were for bedtime, not right before dinner when the object of her fancy was right there.

But when she finally returned after all that, he was still standing in his wrap shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He hadn’t even put the robe back on. He laid it off to the side.  She glanced at the robe and then up to Gale, who was ladling stew into bowls and passing them around. He caught her eyes and gave her a faint, intentional smirk meant just for her before turning his attention back to the stew.

That’s when Dani knew, with a rush of realization that struck her a bit like lightning and left her sitting, silent and dazed and a little offended and a little impressed.

She’d been as obvious as day, and now he was teasing her about it. And that smirk? He was being a bit of an arrogant bastard…but gods, he was suddenly all the sexier for it.

She was doomed.

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #my fic #my tav #dani #meridan zavrai #gale #gale dekarios #please enjoy this nonsense lol

[teleostuber]

We’ll leave a pivot 4 ur eye !

#I know he’s chopped himself without knowing he is not careful with that thing #creepypasta #ticci toby #drawing #blades

[revasserium]

Okay okay hear me out Rain: reader watching Sanji cook, just sitting, waiting, maybe reading a book but catching glances at him every so often and he knows they're looking at him and just smiles....sorry I love that man

accidentally in love

opla!sanji; 2,569 words; fluff, banter so much banter, flirting, flustered!sanji, whipped!sanji, no "y/n", confessions, "sweetheart", fem!reader, straw hat"!reader

summary: in which sanji is trying to cook dinner but you're very, very distracting. or, sanji finally meets his match.

a/n: i know i said i might not write for anyone other than zoro but i lied. i guess i'm a sanji bitch now too. fuck.

Sanji’s always liked to say that he can cook anywhere, anytime, given that he’s got something that resembles heat and a smattering of ingredients — like any great artist, he knows how to make do. But, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy this — the quiet of a ship’s kitchen, the gentle sway of the ocean, the simmer and pop of fat on a pan, the soft bubbling of boiling water — and you.

You, perched on the counter with your legs hanging off the side, hair piled up and pinned with a chopstick, a book in your hands or on your lap, the early afternoon sun spilling in to caress your skin like so many loving fingers. Sometimes, he’ll glance over while chopping onions or mincing garlic to catch a glimpse of you, and he’d find himself stilling, his fingers slowing, his breath suspended in his chest, caught like an insect in amber: held weightless and perfect.

“You’re staring,” you say, flipping a page without looking up, a smile twitching at your lips.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve found that admiring beautiful things helps me in my creative process,” he says, his grin going lopsided as he lowers his eyes to the ingredients on the cutting board — tiny, plump cherry tomatoes ripe to bursting. He resumes slicing each in half with swift, decisive cuts and relishes in the sound of your laughter.

“Careful with that mouth of yours — someone might accidentally fall in love with you,” you flip another page.

Sanji slides the cut tomatoes into a bowl and wipes a hand on the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Accidentally? C’mon, you gotta gimme some more credit. But if anyone’s fallin’ in love, it’s gonna be with you.”

Another page. Sanji plucks a few zucchini from a large bag and starts to julienne them into thin strips.

“What are you making?” you ask, finally setting the book down in favor of peering at all the ingredients he’s got laid out. He quirks an eyebrow, glancing up.

“What, finished with that book already?”

“Nope — just found something more interesting to look at, that’s all.”

Sanji blushes.

Let it never be said that Vinsmoke Sanji can’t take as good as he gives but by all the gods and monsters and sea kings — you’re a damn good flirt. Almost as good as he is, he used to think. Now, as he covers up his rapidly darkening cheeks with a chuckle, turning away to grab a potato for skinning, he wonders if you might just be better.

“You never answered my question, y’know.”

He looks up again, his tongue feeling strangely swollen and uncoordinated in his mouth. You’re grinning at him, your legs still swinging, but in the few seconds he’d looked away, you’ve inched closer, your outer thigh now almost pressing against the edge of his cutting board.

The first time he’d found you perched up on his long work table with a book in your lap, he’d blinked, crossed his arms, and debated on asking what on earth you thought you were doing. Chefs generally do not take kindly to their prep spaces being treated like free real estate for sitting, but he’d never been able to say no to a beautiful woman, now has he? And least of all you.

“Thought you could use the company,” was your answer to his then-unasked question. He’d laughed, nodded, and gotten on with his breakfast prep. But that was months ago and since then, it’s become something of a habit; a ritual, almost.

“What question was that? I was —” he asks, clearing his throat, his fingers almost slipping on the freshly peeled potato, “distracted by your —”

“What are you making?”

“Oh —” Sanji returns his gaze to the cutting board, now acutely aware of the smell of your skin, creamy and warm. He swallows, trying to focus on slicing the potato.

“Just a cherry tomato and zucchini noodle pasta — not often that we get such fresh produce. But Luffy’d asked if I can make chips from scratch the other day so that’s what this bad boy’s for,” he says, holding up half the potato.

“You sure one potato’s gonna be enough?” you shift your leg to cross one above the other, and Sanji has to swallow passed the thickness building up in the back of his throat at the sight of your soft, smooth thighs.

“Good point,” he says, laughing as he bends down to grab a few more.

You fall into a companionable silence, the quiet only punctuated by the tack-tack-tack of his knife on the cutting board and the occasionally shunk-thump of ingredients being swept into a metal prep bowl.

“You’re staring,” he says. And this time, it’s Sanji who grins, keeping his eyes fixed on the remainder of the herb mix he’s chopping up.

“Yeah, I know. I’m making a habit of admiring beautiful things. I’ve heard that it’s good for me.”

Heat bursts in Sanji’s chest as if he’d swallowed a shot of whiskey or gin or perhaps something even more potent. His head spins, but he steadies himself before letting out a soft, low whistle. He fights the urge to look up just to check if you’re as affected as he is.

“Keep talkin’ like that and falling in love with you’s not gonna be an accident.”

When he finally looks up to shoot you a flirty smile, he finds himself faltering as he meets your eyes.

“Who said I wanted it to be an accident?”

The knife in Sanji’s hand slips and he swears as it knicks the skin of his forefinger.

“Ah, shit —”

“Oops.” You have the decency to look sheepish as he shoots you a mildly reproachful look. But you shift your legs and tug open a drawer that had been tucked beneath where your knee had been, pulling out a small bandage.

“Come here,” you offer, reaching out as he stares at you for a second before moving forward to give you his hand. You gently wipe away the blood before pressing the bandage to the small cut, running a thumb over the edges to make sure it’s sealed.

The air hangs between you like dust motes trapped in sunlight, like first snow caught in the silvery breaths of awestruck children.

“There,” you say, the word no more than a whisper. Your hands linger over his, his skin burning where you’d touched him. Shivers skitter down the length of his spine as he gulps in a breath of air that tastes faintly of fairytale endings and happily-ever-afters.

“Thanks.”

He doesn't pull away. Neither do you.

Like this, he can count every single lash that frames your doe-wide eyes. Like this, he can feel the static thrum of electricity threatening to jump from his body to yours, and all at once, he understands why lightning always tries to reach for the closest thing to its storm-ridden skies.

Perhaps it, too, yearns for closeness — for that infinitesimal moment of connection.

He wants to reach for you.

Your lips hover a kiss’s-breadth away.

An alarm goes off.

“Oh fuck —”

He jerks away from you, the world clanging rudely back into focus as he reaches for the lid of a large pot, his heart hammering something fierce inside his ribcage. He nearly burns himself on the thick fog of steam rising from inside the pot to reveal six flat-face crabs, freshly caught that morning.

Behind him, he hears the distinct sounds of you slipping from the long work table.

“Leaving already?” he asks as he turns back around with a stab at his usual light-hearted cheek.

You lick your lips, grinning, “I feel like I’ve caused enough damage for one dinner service. If I keep hanging around, you might lose a finger next.”

“Small price to pay for the company of a beautiful woman,” but there’s a gravel and grit to his voice that wasn’t there before, and he looks away first when this time your eyes catch. He tries to busy himself with prepping the pan sauce for the crabs.

“I’ll let Nami know that the next time she wants to peek in on you cooking.”

“Hey —”

You pause at the sound of his voice just as you reach the door. You turn.

Sanji’s expression flickers between caution and anticipation as he opens his mouth, his eyes somehow sharper and darker than they usually are.

“We’re not done talking about this.”

You cock your head, “About what?”

But there’s a smile teasing at the corner of your lips and Sanji lets out a good-humored sigh.

“Alright, go. Or else I might lose more than a finger.”

Like a heart, he thinks as you close the door behind you with a soft click.

Dinner is an appetizer of cold zucchini pasta followed by a warm, tangy tomato veloute. Then come the crabs — freshly steamed over a bed of risotto and served with a lemon and rosemary pan sauce so delicious it has even Zoro sighing with satisfaction.

“Wow, special occasion?” Nami asks, looking up as Sanji comes around with a tray full of cocktails, complete with blood orange slices garnishing the lip of each glass.

“Ain’t every day a special one with this crew?” he asks, winking at Nami as she takes her drink.

Everyone laughs, but as he sets down your drink, you notice a tiny note tucked beneath the base of your glass.

You take a sip of your drink, glancing down at the note. It has three simple words written in Sanji’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting:

Kitchen — after dinner.

You tuck the note away in your pocket with a secret grin, taking another long sip of the cold, refreshing drink.

The final course is a heaping pile of home-made potato chips with garlic and cheese dip, and Luffy wastes no time in shoveling half the batch into his mouth, crunching loudly over a series of vague, animalistic hums and grunts that all seem to denote happiness.

You finish your drink and slip away under the guise of going for another.

When you get to the kitchen, it's to find Sanji already cleaning up.

“Need a hand?” you ask, setting your empty glass on the counter before lightly hoisting yourself up onto it.

Sanji shakes his head, turning off the water and wiping down his hands. He pours you another drink from a large pitcher before setting it down and pursing his lips.

“This afternoon —”

“I meant what I said —” you say, cutting him off as you look away, eyes fixed on your knees as you swing your feet away from the table’s edge, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sanji clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter, if only to keep his hands busy. The thing in his chest that he’d been so convinced was his heart for most of his life now feels very much like a ticking time bomb. Or perhaps a hand grenade, with the pin held precariously between your teeth.

One word from you and —

“So? What about you?” you ask.

Sanji sucks in a long breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. The familiar sting grounds him as he looks at you and wonders if you know all the things he’d do for you. All the things he’s already done.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yeah — did you mean it?” And for the first time since he’s known you, you sound uncertain, “All… all those things you said? All the things you’ve been saying?”

He takes a few steps forward, finally allowing himself to breach the delicate circle of your personal space, his free hand coming to rest on the counter next to your thigh, his palm pressing flat to keep himself from going too far, too fast.

“Three guesses,” he says, letting his eyes flicker down to your lips and linger there, “You guess right… and there might be a prize involved, hm?”

A small, knowing grin spreads across your lips even as you quirk an eyebrow.

“Three guesses to a yes or no question? C’mon, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch.”

Sanji leans in and you can almost taste the smoke on your tongue.

“But you do know better, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You suck in a breath, reaching up to tug the cigarette from his lips.

“Yes.”

You catch a flash of his smile a second before his lips find yours. He tastes of salt and tobacco and lemon-rosemary sauce.

“That’s one,” he says as the pair of you break apart. The cigarette lies forgotten on the counter.

Somehow, his hands have found their way to the bend of your waist, settling there as naturally as the tide might settle against its favorite stretch of forgotten beach.

You smile as you reach up to tug him closer, “Yes.”

Another kiss.

Sanji notes with a satisfied grin that your cheeks are just as flushed as his feels when he pulls away this time. He nods, trailing long fingers up your side, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek, the other pressing at the small of your back.

“That’s two.”

You nudge his nose with yours and he feels his hand-grenade heart leap into his throat.

“And…” you hum, letting your head lilt to one side as you ghost your lips over his, “Hm, lemme think about this one…”

Sanji rolls his eyes, tugging you forward by the back of your neck, crushing your mouth to his. It’s more insistent this time — the kiss, the breath, his fingers, your hands — more desperate and fumbling, fueled by the ever-growing heat bubbling at the base of his spine.

“Yes —” you hiss, panting as the pair of you pull apart, your pupils blown wide and dark in the dim kitchen light.

“And that’s all three,” he says, his smile going wide with warmth, “See? You’ve got it. Knew you’d get there.”

“Did you ever doubt?”

Sanji shrugs, taking half a step back to admire the sight of you, with kiss-swollen lips and heat-flushed skin. Perfect might not be strong enough a word.

“There was a moment here or there,” he says, to which you respond with a light shove to his shoulder as you hop off the table.

“Oh, I meant to ask you — what’s for dessert?”

Sanji laughs, “What? Did my garlic-cheddar chips not satisfy?”

“Really? Chips for dessert? And here I was hoping for something sweet.”

You make to leave the kitchen but Sanji reaches forward, pulling you back all too easily, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. His eyes are soft with mirth but as he leans down, you can’t help but shiver at the promise of something more lingering beneath the smoke of his breath.

“Well then, sweetheart, I think I’ve got my dessert picked out already now, don’t I?”

recs r technically closed, but... if you have an opla!sanji one... send it here.

#uhohitsemmy #opla #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece netflix #one piece fluff #sanji opla #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #opla x reader #opla x you #opla fluff #x reader #floofy floof floof #yall when i say we're whipped i rly do mean WHIPPED #also shoutout to my bf for making that menu for dinner cause i kno nothing about european style cooking #least of all french cooking #scheduled post

[opennwindows]

May I request a smoll eyeless jack x f reader nsfw story? Or headcanons?

eyeless jack x fem reader NSFW hcs

cw: 18+ content, medical kink, breeding kink, biting, blood, kinda disrespecting boundaries?? kinda not??, afab fem aligned reader

a/n: hey let’s all ignore my wildly different formatting for each post until i figure out wtf i’m doing lmfao. i decided to do hcs for this since i enjoy rambling and i have a couple fics already lined up and those take significantly longer for me to write!! i hope that’s okay anon, i just want to get more stuff posted :) also i threw a bunch of random ideas together for this so if you’d like anything else more specific please req again!

sooo we all know eyeless jack is a demon, right? to say dude is into some freaky shit would be an understatement.

- jack has a higher sex drive than most due to his demon tendencies. pair that with the rush he gets after a good evening of organ harvesting and you’re in for a Very Long Night. his stamina is also no joke.

- wear a short skirt? it’s getting cut off with his scalpel. accidentally slice your finger while chopping vegetables? well you better turn off the stove because he’s bending you over it. he senses you’re ovulating? he’s fucking you twice as much.

- if you’re into medical play and getting cut up with surgery tools he will be over the moon.

- if not, you’re gonna have to have a sit down talk with jack. he will do his best, but he can end up viewing you as just a lowly human at times. you’re gonna have to put your foot down sternly to fully gain his respect. he cares about your boundaries (somewhat), it just takes a minute to get through to his human side.

- on that note, don’t even dream of dominating him. he’ll laugh in your face and restrain you if the idea even crosses your mind. the thought of a weaker being telling him what to do during sex is comical to jack. he might let you ride him if he’s feeling lazy, but his clawed hands will be gripped around your waist as a silent reminder of who’s in charge.

- he’s into degradation. not the typical “you’re a whore” shit. no, this guy will take every chance to remind you that you’re just a fragile little human that’s only breathing because he lets you. if you feed into his ego, jack will reward you with his face between your thighs for hours.

- ooh let me take a moment to talk about this monster’s tongue. godly is an ironic term to describe anything involving jack but it’s the only fitting word. it’s long, slightly textured, quick and strong. he looooves to edge you until you inevitably break and the only words you can form are broken pleas. you’re gonna have to pry him off of you during your periods. he’s a little nasty

- jack will pretty much refuse to cum anywhere that isn’t inside you or your mouth. during sex, he tends to fully give into his animalistic demon qualities. meaning the only thing running through his mind is ‘breed, breed, breed.’

- big corruption kink. like MASSIVE. i think all the pastas have some form of corruption kink, but obviously the whole demon thing brings it to a new level. if you were a virgin when you met him, he’s gonna have to physically restrain himself from pouncing on you the second its brought up in conversation.

- let’s talk about positions. jack’s not really picky as long as he’s fucking your brains out but he does have a few favorites. mating press is almost always a winner since it feeds into his need to breed (i crack myself up). missionary is a classic that ensures he can have complete control. jack is also a fan of fucking on operating tables???? don’t ask me ask him, he’s odd. his least favorites involve 69, cowgirl, or pretty much anything that involves you on top of him. he doesn’t really get tired so doing all the work doesn’t bother him.

- will 100% spit in your mouth and he doesn’t care if you think it’s gross. get used to it sorry. if you’re into it then you’ve won.

- probably will throw a tantrum if he finds out you masturbated without him. he’s given you so much special attention and you still want more? well. he’s gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be too sore to even think about touching yourself. i’m praying for you girl good luck.

- LOVES TO BITE ON YOUR CHEST AND NECK. i cannot stress this enough. and he WILL draw blood, i mean his mouth is full of sharp teeth so it’s basically a given. bro will be fucking you and straight up take a drink break FROM YOUR THROAT. be prepared to never show your neck or cleavage in public ever again. unless you’re into that. then you go girl, we’re all cheering for you.

- jack thinks it’s hilarious to say terrifying unsexy shit during sex. “i can’t wait to cut you open and eat those delicious kidneys that belong to me….” you just look at him with your mouth open. you’d be better off ignoring his annoying ass he (probably) doesn’t mean it.

#eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x y/n #eyeless jack smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x reader #celia reqs #eyeless jack headcanon #i refuse to abbreviate creepypasta yall are crazy for that

[familyvideostevie]

watching you with wonder

joel miller x reader joel claims to have heard something interesting. too bad he keeps insisting he needs more information before he can tell you | 5.4k a/n: same universe as come care about me but not necessary to read that one first! joel is soft, this is my version of him where he and ellie heal and he gets to have a life etc etc etc | domesticity, post-part i jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip but good thing you are too, a fair amount of kissing, fluff, softness, peace and all that good stuff. part 3 here! series masterlist here.

It's been a long day. The supply run you'd been dreading went off without a hitch but you were out of the gate at sun-up and in the saddle for most of the morning and afternoon. Your legs are sore, your back is sore,  and you're dirty from a day outside the walls.

You haven't seen Joel since this morning. Not unusual, not by any means. Most days you're both doing something in town, occasionally one of you out on patrol. You're partial to the plant work and Joel likes to chop wood or check out houses that need upgrades with Tommy. But after a day like today you want nothing more than to go home and complain about how much you miss cars while Joel works the knots out of your shoulders. 

But tonight is Festival Night. Nothing big, just a dance at the barn that serves as the community center with music and drinks and food. And Joel, despite his insistence that he's Jackson's resident grump, will be there, because Tommy will have asked him to go and he doesn't like disappointing his brother. And, though he'll never admit it even to you, he enjoys community events. He gets to see the people he loves having a nice time and feeling safe. 

So you head from the stables to the main hall, not bothering to stop at home. Jackson seems to be lit up extra special, the air a little lighter due to the laughter and music brightening the night. The noise becomes almost overwhelming when you open the door and slide inside, dropping your pack against the wall. It's much warmer in here and you unbutton your coat as you make your way through the crowd, waving to people as you go. 

Joel is here somewhere but you don't try too hard to spot him. You know he'll find you. Someone calls your name and you pivot on your heel to find Ellie waving at you from a...poker table?

"Wanna join?" she asks once you walk over. Next to her is Tommy, who looks significantly less excited than she does. "I'm teaching Tommy how to play poker. Oh, sorry, I'm fucking smoking Tommy at poker."

"I know how to play, you little shit," Tommy growls. "Who taught you? This isn't poker, this is a fuckin' massacre." 

Ellie cackles and tips her chair back so she's balancing on the back legs.

"I'll pass this round," you tell her. "Looks like you've got him handled."

"You just want to find Joel." She looks at you in that uncanny way of hers like she knows all of your secrets. But this is one you have no problem admitting.

You smile at her. "Seen him?"

"Now that you're here I'm sure he'll slink out of whatever corner he stuck himself in," Tommy grumbles. "Girl, you sure you ain't countin' cards?"

You leave them to it and wander over to the bar. Astrid pours you a glass of something amber. You take a sip and let the burn warm your throat, your stomach. The music behind you picks up and there's laughter and you turn to see people pairing up and flocking to the floor. 

You close your eyes to enjoy the sounds that mean peace, safety, home. It never gets old and you never quite get used to it. You inhale deep and -- ah, yes. There it is. A smile spreads across your face as you breathe in wood glue, gunpowder, the soap you make at home. Your heart beats a little faster, even after all this time.

"Hi," you say, opening your eyes. Joel stands in front of you, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass similar to your own. His hair curls at his collar, edges still a little wet from the shower he must have taken before coming here. His shirt is rolled to his elbows, his jacket clearly discarded somewhere. Your gaze trails up his chorded forearms, his watch securely in place as always. This is what you've called his "nice" shirt, a deep green that makes the grey of his beard all the more striking and brings out his eyes. 

Eyes that settle on you in a way that sends heat up your spine.

"Howdy," he says. "You just get here?"

"Like you weren't watching the door for me," you tease. He shrugs and reaches for you, his free hand curling around your hip to tug you close for just a few moments. Joel presses his lips to your cheek lightly, his beard scratching your skin as he pulls away and settles at your side, arm resting on the bar behind you. 

"Well, I ain't seen you all day," he reminds you. As if you could forget. Every second you're not looking at him you sort of wish you were. There aren't many good things left in your life -- all of them are in this town, now -- and you tend to hold on to the ones you still have with both hands. Joel, despite the fact that he'd argue with you over it, is your good thing. Your best thing.  

"Miss me?" 

"Dumb question," he mutters. 

His fingers brush against the back of your bicep, warm through your jacket. "How was the run?"

"Easy. Long." You take a sip of your drink. It's still warming but doesn't measure up to the solid warmth of the man beside you. "I came straight here."

"That would explain why you smell like shit," he drawls. You smack his chest. He doesn't so much as flinch.

"Rude."

Joel watches the crowd and you watch him. That's how it usually goes with you two. You figure he's watching for threats, for any sign of something going wrong. It's a habit most folks here find hard to break. He's watching Ellie, who has left the poker table behind, twirl some of the children around with Dina, he's watching Tommy try to teach a few drunk guys how to square dance like he does every Festival. Joel curls his hand around your shoulder and you lean back into the touch. 

On a night like tonight when joy is more contagious than the fungus spreading through the rotting world, Joel loosens up a little. It's a good look on him and it only ever means good things for you -- he laughs more, he touches you more. But most importantly you know he lets life in. He lets that knot you know is in his chest, the one made of fear and loss and survival and all of the horrible fucked up things he's seen and done, he lets it loosen even just a bit. He lets himself feel the good things, too. How much the people in this town respect him, care about him. How much they appreciate him. How much they love him, how much you love him.

You look at him in the soft light of the barn. There's a tug to his mouth that you know.

He looks smug. It's a nice look on him, a relaxed one. He looks too handsome for his own good. And though you love him, love how he's enjoying the night, like hell you're going to let him stand there and get away with whatever he's cooking up.

"Joel Miller, why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"No reason," he says. He takes another sip of his drink, side-eyeing you over the rim. This man. 

You tap the heel of your boot against his. "Don't make me beg."

His eyes flash but he turns into your space, the solid shape of him curling around you as well as his arm. In another world, in another life, he could be a handsome man picking you up at a bar. 

"I heard somethin'," he says, voice low. "Somethin'...interestin'."

"Really?" You look around the barn as if the object of his gossip will materialize in front of you. "Tell me."

He leans back and you have to stop yourself from following. "Don't think so."

"Joel."

This man can be such a shit when he wants to be. 

He holds the hand carrying his glass up in surrender, the brown liquor sloshing close to the rim. "Hey now, don't go shootin' the messenger."

"I can't because he won't tell me the message."

"S'not anything worth tellin' just yet," he drawls. "I need a little more intel. Y'know, make it worth your while."

You sigh, hamming it up a bit by thunking your forehead to his collar. Joel huffs a laugh and fully drapes his arm across your shoulders, warm and solid. 

It's all fun but you know there's a note of truth to it. Joel can lie better than most people but he doesn't lie to you. "Fine. You get away with it for now."

The song changes to something old and slow, something you recognize but don't quite remember the name of.

"Only if you dance with me," you say. You swallow the last of your drink and push off the bar, sliding out from under his arm. You hold your hand out to him and wiggling your fingers. "It's only fair."

He sighs like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he is, sometimes. But right now his cheeks are a little flushed from the drink and your flirting and you want to see how far you can take it.

"Unless I smell too much like shit," you goad. You don't actually think he'll go for it. Joel doesn't dance. It feels like the kind of good time, the kind of joy that is forever stuck in the past, left behind twenty odd years ago. Honestly, you think he'll just drag you home and have his way with you in your warm bed. 

But he manages to surprise you.

Joel throws back his drink and grabs your hand. His thumb strokes your skin.

"S'pose it is," he says. "You don't smell that bad."

A delighted laugh spills from you. He leads you to the already-crowded dance floor, pulling you close with a hand on your back. You rest your arm on his broad shoulder and hook your thumb in his collar. 

"Not so bad, is it?" you say. Your faces are so close you're practically cheek to cheek. You feel his breath on the shell of your ear, his beard a little prickly against your cheek. 

"Could be worse." You and Joel gently sway and you toy with the ends of his hair. Over his shoulder you can see Dina and Ellie dancing, arms wrapped around each other tight. You close your eyes and match your breaths to Joel's. 

"We should do this more often," you say. "Bet they'd let you play guitar at the next festival if you wanted."

Joel hums. 

"Don't forget you have to deliver the firewood to the school tomorrow." He presses his hand to your back and pulls you even closer. "Are you listening to me?"

"Mhm."

"Joel --" Your eyes fly open and you try to pull away to goad him but he holds you steadily against him.

"Hush," he says, fingers squeezing yours. "I'm enjoyin' the moment."

You allow it.

___

The gossip Joel mentioned is in the back of your mind but you know he'll tell you when he's satisfied with his information gathering or whatever the fuck he's up to. Sure, it's silly, maybe even pointless but you like to think of it as a display of the trust you have in each other. You trust Joel with your life and you've put that into practice, watched him bloody his knuckles for the ones he loves. You also trust him with your heart, your body, your mind. There's no part of you that his hands haven't touched, haven't loved in the jagged, intense way of his. 

Plus you enjoy seeing him pleased with himself, which you know he will be once he has the whole story to tell you. It's not a mood you see on him often.

You finally have a free night and Ellie asks you to come over to try out a new video game Jesse found for her on patrol. Joel waves you off when you offer to stay in with him instead.

"Means I'll get some peace and quiet to finish my book," he grumbles, handing you your coat even though you're walking across the yard. He's already peeled off his boots and looks half-awake in the dim light of your entryway, glasses tucked into the collar of his sweater.

"More like you're going to sit in bed and fall asleep reading without me talking to keep you awake."

He sends you off with an eye roll and a soft kiss which you turn into two more, just because. Maybe a few years ago he'd sit in the chair downstairs and wait for you to come home. He does like to play his guitar on the porch when it's not too cold, keep an eye on things. But you'll be with Ellie just out back and it's been a long week. It's no small point of pride that, with the help of your reassurance and persistent care and his own conviction, Joel allows himself to relax a little. "Have fun."

You do. Ellie and Joel have a history that is complex and tender, so much so that sometimes it's too much for both of them. After it seemed like she was open to it, you've tried to make sure you and her have a relationship all your own. She's smart and funny and fiercely loyal to the people she cares about. You feel lucky to be one of them.

But she still annihilates your ass when it comes to video games. 

"You know," she says, cracking her knuckles after yet another defeat. "It's embarrassing as shit how you literally lived in a time where you could play these like, whenever you wanted. And yet it's me, who was born after the world ended, who keeps winning."

You make sure to look unamused. "Whatever." You stand, stretching out your spine with your arms above your head and yawn. "It's teenage luck." You have no idea how this girl stays up so late all the time. 

"I guess I'm just good at everything."

"Oh, you sure about that?" She hands you your coat and tugs on the strings of her sweatshirt. "I've seen you in a kitchen. You might want to rethink that one."

"Psh," she says, waving you off. "Who needs to cook, anyway?"

You slide into your boots and shake your head. "I'm actually shocked Dina puts up with you." 

"Hey, fuck you!" she cries, though she's hiding a smile. "No insulting me in my own home. It's Joel's fault, anyway. He can't cook either."

You snort. "Don't I know it." She grins at you fully, the one you call her shark-tooth smile, and you grin back. "Thanks for this, kiddo. I had fun." 

"Yeah, maybe one day you'll win." You tug her in for a quick hug which she allows before squirming away. "Alright, alright. Go make sure he didn't burn down the house without you, or something."

It's late, late enough that you feel yourself getting more tired with each step back to the porch. Joel left the back door unlocked for you. You latch the deadbolt behind you and peel off your outer layers in the dark. A quick glance in the kitchen tells you Joel put your stuff from dinner away and is probably in bed. He's left out your mugs, ready for the morning, and the list he's been making of things you need to do around the house before it snows. You love to see the pieces of your life on display like this -- signs that this is a home.

You don't bother being quiet when you climb up the stairs because you know he'll be pissed if you don't wake him to let him know you're home. The bedroom light is on but when you actually go in you see he's in bed with his book in his lap, glasses sliding down his nose. His eyes are closed and his bare chest rises slowly.

He's probably only half-asleep, probably heard you come in and decided it was safe enough to shut his eyes until you say something. So you get ready for bed quickly, tugging on soft clothes and brushing your teeth before creeping over to his side of the bed and perching on the edge of it, resting your hand on his thigh under the covers.

"Joel," you say softly. "Joel, are you asleep?"

"Yes," he grumbles. His eyes flutter open, the piercing grey a little clouded with tiredness. He reaches for his glasses and pulls them from his face a bit clumsily. "You okay? You n'Ellie have fun?"

"We did. She's so good at video games it's a little scary." You pluck the frames from his hand and fold them, setting them on his bedside table with his book. He grunts and pushes himself up a little more in bed, his leg pressing against your tailbone through the blankets. It's a real show of your restraint that you don't run your hands over the golden and hairy expanse of his chest, the broad line of his shoulders. Instead you reach for his face and he lets you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries and fails to hide his amusement as you trail your fingers through his hair. Just being here with him makes you a little sleepy, your body catching up with your mind at how you always feel safest when he's in the room with you. "S'cold, though. I think we might need to put some more insulation in the shed for her."

"Alright," he says. Joel wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your palm to his cheek but quickly flinches away. "Christ," he mutters. "Your hands are cold." He encases both of your hands in his and rubs slowly, throughly. 

"Let me get in bed, then." You make no effort to move. 

Joel blows on your fingers and, in a move that's tender even for him, presses his lips to their tips. "I ain't holdin' you here."

"Sarcasm," you say. "And Ellie claims you're not funny." Joel scoffs and you laugh, rising from his side of the bed and making your way around to yours. Joel flicks back the covers and you slide in, facing him. 

"Light off?" he asks. You nod. He shuffles around to flip the switch and then settles into his side with a groan. It's dark but you know his face with your eyes closed, let alone in the moonlight of your bedroom. The gash on the bridge of his nose, the scruff of his greying beard, the nicks along his cheeks and temples. The age spots, the wrinkles, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, these days more from smiles and laughter than stress and worry. Or so you like to think. 

"Got any gossip for me yet?" 

Joel huffs. "Not quite."

"Jooooooel," you whine, scooting closer. You hook a leg over his and slide your hand over his stomach, fingers catching on the hair above the waistband of his sleep pants. He makes a noise deep in his throat but otherwise allows it. 

"I ain't givin' you half-assed information," he says. "It'll be worth the wait."

With Joel, it always is. You consider dragging it out a little more but you're cold and tired and he's so warm and you barely saw him at all today. "Alright," you say. You pull yourself even closer under the covers, dragging your nose over the hollow of his throat, his beard a delicious scratch on your skin. Your hand curls around his hip and he reaches for you on instinct, warm, callused palms sliding under your sleep shirt to press into your bare skin.

He huffs a tired laugh, chest rumbling with amusement. "What're you up to?"

"You're warm," you say into his skin.

"And you're handsy."

You trail your lips up to his and press them to the corner of his mouth. "You love it."

"Guess I do," Joel says. He catches you in a lazy, slow kiss, tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you part them. He licks into your mouth like he's got all the time in the world and you let him. His nose presses against yours and you sigh even further into the embrace, pressing as close as you can, as if you could crawl into him and stay there forever. Any cold lingering in your bones is dispelled by Joel's touch, by the thigh he wedges between your legs. This could turn into something more, and you love when it does, but tonight it's just about being close. His hand trails up your side to cup your face as the kisses get lazier, sleepier. You're slotting his bottom lip between yours when he pulls back and --

Yawns in your face. 

He looks a little surprised and then frowns. You laugh and smooth the crease between his brows before kissing him once more.

"Jesus, Joel," you say. "Bedtime."

"Was sleepin' fine before you got here," he grumbles, but  in the same breath he wraps his arm around you and tugs you with him as he turns onto his back so your head lays on his chest. You match your breaths to his. He presses a kiss to your hair.

___

Two nights later you wake to an empty bed. 

You sleepily trail your hand through the sheets and find they still carry Joel's warmth. He must have gotten up a few minutes ago. You force your eyes to open but don't see a light in the bathroom, find no shadow in your eyesight. You can hear his voice in your head saying go back to sleep, s'nothin' but you know better than to listen to him when it comes to this. It's not like you'll be able to until you know he's okay, anyway. 

So you wrap the blanket from the foot of your bed around yourself and shuffle through the house and down the stairs. 

"Joel?" you call quietly. 

"Kitchen," he replies, a warm grumble in the still of the night. You didn't even look at the clock when you got out of bed but it must be late. 

He sits in the dark at your small kitchen table, eyes fixed on Ellie's garage out back. He's put a shirt on. Of course. Nightmare. This is where he always sits after he has one. His hands are wrapped around his mug. Based on the smell it's chamomile tea -- the only time he'll drink it instead of coffee is on nights like tonight. He had no idea it even grew in the greenhouses here until you presented him with a jar of it for Ellie back when you were still tiptoeing around whatever was between you. Those days are long gone.

"You okay?" You keep your voice hushed. It's rare these days that he'll want to be alone. You're the only one who gets to see him like this other than Ellie. It took a while but now Joel lets you comfort him, he lets you hold him together when he needs it. 

He tears his eyes from the window to meet yours, chin tipped up as he gets a good look at you in the dark. 

"M'alright." You take a few more steps into the kitchen and he frowns. "You cold?" He reaches for you with one hand, beckoning you close. You step into his space and he wraps one arm around you, leans his head against your soft stomach. You untangle from the blanket slightly to run your fingers through his hair. The touch is as grounding for him as it is for you.

"What can I do?" you ask him, ignoring his question. 

You can feel the warmth of his palm through the blanket and your sleep shirt. "This is just fine. Just need a minute." 

"You wanna take that minute on the couch?" He grunts his assent and you step back to allow him to get up. He leaves his mug on the table but catches your hand to pull you with him.

Joel sighs when he settles into the worn cushions, knees spread wide and head tipped back as be breathes. He doesn't look any more tired than usual but you can tell he's still holding onto whatever sent him down here. 

You press into his side, legs curled underneath you. His arm settles heavily on across your shoulders and you rest a palm on his knee. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He turns his head to face you and his nostrils flare as he frowns.

"Nothin' new," he sighs. "A pretty old one, actually. Haven't had it in a while. 'Bout stuff from when we were on the road."

If he wants to say more he will. You don't know what it's like for him to worry about Ellie -- you only know how youworry. Once the sun rises he'll probably trudge over and knock on her door, ask if she wants to go for a ride. She'll complain about being woken up but she'll agree because she knows him, too. She'll see the tension at the edges of his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. There have been nights when you come downstairs to find her sleeping on the couch, too, just because she wanted to be sure he was okay.

You lean your head on his shoulder and breathe with him. He picks up your hand and rubs his thumb across the back of it slowly, as if he doesn't even know he's doing it.

Sleep is a near thing when Joel eventually clears his throat. "I got that gossip for you." His chest rumbles and you perk up, pulling back to look at him. His eyes have a bit more spark, a bit less of the far-away look he had when you came down the stairs. 

"Oh, do you now? Finally?"

"You're just impatient," he says. "Hadn't heard directly from either of 'em so I wasn't sure. But I tracked it down and got it from the source."

"You sound like a detective from one of those old shows. Got it from the source," you say, pitching your voice low and imitating his drawl. 

He manages to look unimpressed. "I don't have to tell you."

"Joel."

"Alright, alright. Well, it's about Wendy and Fred."

You sit up. "The couple that met on your group patrol?" It's something you and Ellie tease him about -- his accidental tendency to play matchmaker. Sometimes he leads group patrols for new folks or younger community members who are now old enough to join the roster. You think he probably enjoys scaring the shit out of them a little but he's also good at it, teaches them well and makes sure they're safe. Around the time you met you'd heard about a couple who met on a patrol and hit it off. It's happened a few more times with Joel's groups but Wendy and Fred are the only ones who have stayed together. 

"Mhm. Word is they're gettin' married."

You gasp. This is very far from what you expected him to tell you. A lot of the gossip you and Joel share is about people breaking up or sleeping together or moving out of Jackson. Sometimes it's petty theft or in-fighting at the council. But this? This is downright romantic.

"Married?" It's not uncommon these days but most people don't bother. But most importantly it means one thing -- there's going to be a party. "We haven't had a wedding in...forever," you say wistfully.

"Been a few years, yeah," Joel agrees. "Folks'll be excited."

"How did you find out?" 

He shifts on the couch a little and you take control of your clasped hands, holding one of his in both of yours as you trace the lines on his palm, the veins that go up his arm while he talks. 

"Heard from one of the guys at the festival that Fred was lookin' for a ring. Wanted to get the word out to some supply runs but without her knowin'. But I wasn't sure, since I hadn't seen him in a while. Then I saw Wendy at the pantry few days ago and she looked real happy. I didn't pry but asked her how things were and she was chipper as hell."

"And that wasn't enough to tell me?"

He squeezes your shoulder. 

"Yesterday Fred cornered me when I was headin' home and told me flat out. Thanked me for some fuckin' reason and said Wendy agreed to marry him. Kid looked like he was gonna throw up, he was so excited."

Joel's voice is warm. "You are such a romantic when you want to be," you tell him.

He smirks. "Heard that before."

"It'll be nice to have a celebration. If we're invited, you're dancing with me again."

"We better fuckin' be invited," he grumbles. "I introduced them."

"So you admit to being a matchmaker?"

He huffs. "Nah," he says, a little softer. "Dumb luck. S'how you get good things these days."

You shift under his arm a little bit. "Maybe," you reply. "I think we've earned a few of those things."

Joel drags a hand down his face. It's a motion that usually means he's chewing on what to say next. You spare him.

"This --" you gesture between the two of you "--and all of this --" you wave your hand at the room, the house "-- is more than I knew I could want. You, this house, that feisty, wonderful girl out back. This whole town. Waking up every morning and not dreading another day on this hellish planet. I didn't know this existed anymore, Joel, let alone that it was possible for me. And I think we've earned it."

He's quiet for a few breaths. "C'mere," he says softly. You don't know exactly what he means but he pulls you into his lap so you're straddling him, his arm firm around your hips. It could be a heated position, often is, but here it's just to be close. You catch yourself on his shoulders and drag your hands up to his cheeks. You hold his face in your hands, thumbs stroking the soft, forever-bruised skin under his eyes.

"You sure got a way with words," he says thickly, gaze heavy. "Don't know what I did to deserve this but I ain't gonna question it."

You wrap your arms around him and properly embrace him. He presses his palms to your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder. Your breathing syncs up and you swear your heartbeats do, too. Your whole body, your whole being tuned itself to Joel a long time ago. You'd do everything you've done twice over to get here. 

As if he hears the desperate devotion of your thoughts, Joel pulls back so he can lean up for a kiss. It's more intense than you expected it to be, like he's trying to tell you something with the press of his mouth. You know what he's trying to tell you -- you always do. Joel is better at showing you how he feels than telling you. 

He suckles your lower lip and you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat and you swallow it. You could touch him forever and never get enough. The firm planes of his back, the knot of tension always present in his shoulders. The scratch of his beard, the press of his nose against yours. You want to stitch yourself to him so that you never have to let go.

"S'your turn," Joel grumbles against your lips, pulling back to catch his breath.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. "Hm?"

"For somethin' juicy." 

It's a funny word coming from his mouth and it makes you laugh. His arms tighten around you and he drags his nose down your neck and breathes deep. You can get some gossip for him. You'd do much worse without being asked. Sometimes you think there are no limits to what you'd do for this man. It's a big thought, a dangerous thought, one that's suited to the world you live in now. You don't mind it.

"I'll get you something good, Joel Miller. I promise."

"I know you will," he says. "I trust you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction

[meownotgood]

married life / hayakawa aki

married life with house-husband aki.

pairing: hayakawa aki x gn!reader

genre: headcanons / fluff, just lots of domestic sweetness

note: this post is sfw, but this account contains nsfw content. please do not follow if you are a minor.

❥ You were the one who proposed first. It started as an off-handed remark: Hey, Aki, have you ever considered getting married? Without fully understanding what you were implying, he replies, I'm not sure, but I wouldn't mind being married to you. Needless to say, you popped the question not long after.

❥ You'll never forget the look on Aki's face when you asked him to marry you: his eyes were wide, and his face was flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. When he tried to speak, all that came out were incoherent stutters, but as he knelt down and hugged you, you heard him whisper, Yes. I'd love to.

❥ You consider yourself fortunate that your job has always allowed you to live comfortably, your salary easily enough for two people to live off of. For the first time in, well, ever, Aki doesn't have to be working himself to the bone all the time. He isn't used to this, and it took some adjusting to, but once he settled in his new peaceful lifestyle, he grew to really take a liking to it.

❥ Aki enjoys dwelling in something simpler, in a quiet sense of home. He finds comfort in the little things, in taking care of day-to-day tasks and the household chores. When you come home, a smile on your face once you see what he made for dinner, the stress leaving your shoulders when he tells you how he took care of everything — Don't worry about anything at all, you can relax now. When he's able to help you, to let his beloved feel at ease, it makes it all worth it.

❥ He's always been a chef at heart, so Aki enjoys making you dinner every single night. He asks you what you'd like to eat tonight before you leave for work, and he gives you a few suggestions if you aren't sure. He makes a mental note of all the ingredients he needs to pick up from the store. Then, he prepares dinner in earnest, expertly chopping vegetables, adding spices and having a taste to make sure it's perfect. He always plans it perfectly so that as soon as you come home, you'll have a delicious hot meal ready for you.

❥ Over the months and years you've spent together, Aki has memorized all of your preferences. He knows what flavors you like, and he remembers what you don't like; he always excludes those things from the recipe.

❥ You're no stranger to breakfast in bed, either; Aki will crawl out of bed as softly as possible, cooking quietly in the kitchen, careful to avoid stepping on the floorboards that creak. He'll brew some hot coffee, waking you up with a kiss to the forehead, a steaming mug and a plate of pancakes in his hands. Good morning. Did you have sweet dreams?

❥ When you arrive home from a long day of work, Aki takes your coat off your shoulders at the door, hanging it on the coat rack. He unites your shoes for you, then wraps his arms around you in a warm embrace, his hand tenderly holding the back of your head. The very first thing he says to you each and every time is, Welcome home, I missed you so much. How was work?

❥ And when he can tell that you've come home stressed and upset, he wastes no time, pulling you into a tight hug the second you've walked in the door. Bad day, huh? C'mere. Let me hold you.

❥ Aki makes you boxed lunches in the morning for you to take to eat at work. He makes sure each one is a balanced meal, with enough nutrients to get you through the day. There's always a hand-written note tucked inside, wishing you a good day at work, and reminding you of how much he loves you. Have a good day today. Hey, there's a festival going on downtown tonight, would you like to go? Let me know later. I love you. :)

❥ If you happen to forget your lunch on the counter, Aki will drive all the way to your work just to hand it to you. He pretends not to overhear when you start bragging to your co-workers about how much of an amazing husband he is, but he's smiling to himself on the entire drive home.

❥ Honestly, he'll never get used to you calling him your husband. It always makes his heart flutter and warmth rise to his cheeks. He still can't believe this is real, that he is married to the love of his life, and gets to spend the rest of his days peacefully beside them. After everything he's been through, he thinks he deserves it.

❥ He frequently admires his wedding ring, turning it over and rubbing his thumb along the smooth surface when he's reminded that it's still attached to his finger. Real, tangible proof of your marriage, proof that you belong to each other. Aki's heart skips a beat just looking at it. Sometimes, whilst you sleep, he'll grasp your hand and admire your own ring, too.

❥ You don't think you've done your own laundry since Aki moved in — He's always done it for you. He quickly learned what goes in all of your drawers, and how you like to organize your closet. When he washes your clothes, he seperates the whites from the darks, and he uses a special fabric softener that leaves them smelling divine. He folds all of your clothes neatly, and if you wish, he'll even pick out outfits for you, arranging everything so that you never have to worry about what you're going to wear in the morning.

❥ Aki makes sure every single chore is handled before you even come home. Dishes? Yep, he's already washed them, dried them, and put them away. Trash? He took it out ages ago. You don't have to stress about any of it.

❥ As he cleans the house, dusting every surface, he admires all of your knick-knacks, all of your belongings that have blended with his since you've moved in. He's extremely careful with your things, setting them back exactly where they were. A soft smile settles on his face when he gazes at the photo frames of you and him, and all of the pictures you've taken together.

❥ There's photos from your honeymoon (his arm is around you, you're kissing his cheek), and your wedding (he's crying like a baby at the altar, his hands clasped in yours). When you took visits to both his hometown and your own, you look lots of pictures of the scenery. And there's even shots from your various vacations, including his favorite picture of you that he's ever taken — You're at the beach, the waves washing over your toes, the sunset illuminating you perfectly. You look amazing, but honestly, Aki thinks you're stunning in every single one. He feels delighted to be reminded of those memories.

❥ Aki's favorite part of housework is tending to the garden. He waters the flower beds with a watering can, and then carefully tends to the soil of the plants. The best part is harvesting everything he's grown — tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, strawberries — and letting you have a taste. He'll chop up the cucumbers into slices for you, he'll make a cake out of the strawberries and feed you a slice. Is it good? Tell me what you want me to grow next year. I was thinking lettuce would be nice, I can make us some salads.

❥ He still has much to learn, but Aki managed to pick up sewing in the time while you're away at work; if you ever rip your clothing, or if the washing machine ever snags a button, he'll sew it back up for you, just the way it was.

❥ Although you tend to be busy, you and Aki have a designated date night where you always spend time with each other. Sometimes you go out to a fancy restaurant. Aki helps you pick out a glamorous outfit, does your hair for you, and stands behind you, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head as he clasps your necklace. Oh, you look so perfect, sweetheart. I can't believe I get to call you mine.

❥ He opens the car door for you when you arrive, and he allows you to hold his arm as you step out. When you sit down, he pushes in your seat for you. And of course, he orders for you, too. If there's something on the menu you said you might want to try but weren't sure if you'd like it, that's what he orders, and he's sure to give you a bite. If you enjoy it more than what you ordered, he'll swap your plates. And if you choose to order something out of your comfort zone, he orders your favorite, so that if you dislike your meal, he can just give you his. Aki spends more time helplessly staring at you than he does eating, anyways.

❥ But, if you're not feeling up to anything crazy, Aki is perfectly fine spending date night staying in. You'll cozy up on the couch, a blanket over your bodies as you watch whatever movie you've been dying to see. Aki pops homemade popcorn for the two of you. When you fall asleep on his shoulder, he turns off the television and carries you to bed in his arms.

❥ Aki wouldn't force you to, but if you wanted to take his last name, he'd be absolutely overjoyed. He would be honored to give you such an important part of himself. A smile tugs at the corners of his cheeks whenever he watches you sign paperwork with Hayakawa, and tears well in his eyes when the two of you visit the graves of his family, reminders that he isn't alone anymore, that you're his family now.

❥ Each night, you have a routine of telling Aki how your day went. Aki recounts everything he managed to get done today, and you tell him about anything exciting that happened, or rant to him about all of your stresses. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and Aki rubs slow, soothing circles on your back.

❥ He listens intently to every detail, praising you for your accomplishments: You finished that big project you were telling me about last week, didn't you? You've been working so hard love, why don't we do something special tomorrow to celebrate? Or, comforting you when you've had a shitty day: I'm sorry, baby. I don't understand why your boss has to be such an ass sometimes. If there's anything I can do to help you out tomorrow, just tell me.

❥ And yes, Aki knows that you really need your sleep for the busy day ahead, but sometimes, he just can't help but keep you up. It's not his fault you're so perfect he can't stop staring. You certainly can't blame him for wanting to kiss every inch of your sleepy face over and over again, until there isn't a single place his lips haven't pressed to.

❥ If you can't fall asleep, Aki holds you close and hums you a lullaby. It's some dumb love song he heard on the radio that reminded him if you. He can't remember the lyrics, but he still remembers the melody.

❥ You quickly discovered that when he gets really comfy, drifting into a deep sleep, cuddled up beside you, Aki snores a little. Not very loudly, just a quiet, low hum each time he breathes. You're sure he doesn't know, and you'll never tell him. You find it absolutely adorable, and his gentle snores always help to lull you right to sleep.

❥ Before he met you, Aki would have terrible nightmares every time he slept. It was unavoidable — Nightmares about his family, about devils, reenactments of every memory he's ever tried to forget. But now, as he drifts off in your arms, he has nothing but good, pleasant dreams.

❥ Aki will try his best to make sure you are never late for work, offering his assistance in the morning in any way he can, but if you ever are late, it was probably because he didn't want to let you go. He grumbles in your ear when your alarm goes off, his arms around you pulling you closer to his warm body. You say something about needing to get ready, but he just holds you tighter, sleepily mumbling, Just five more minutes.

❥ Your morning routine has been carefully woven into his. Aki brushes his teeth beside you, so close his shoulder is nearly touching yours. As you brush your hair, he ties up his, and once he's done, he's wrapping his arms around your waist and peppering your shoulder with gentle kisses. When you're showering, he writes cute love messages on the fogged up mirror for you to see when you get out. He never forgets to give you a goodbye kiss before you leave for work.

❥ Aki is always paying careful attention to your health and his own, so it isn't often that either of you fall ill. He always reminds you to take your vitamins in the morning, and he makes sure the meals he prepares are as balanced as possible. But, in the unlikely case that you happen to get sick, Aki takes the best care of you.

❥ He can tell you're not feeling well when you wake up stuffy and exhausted. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead, and when he feels the heat radiating from your skin, he shuffles out of bed to grab the thermometer. You have a terrible fever. Stay home today, sweetheart. I'll call your boss for you.

❥ He makes you easy to digest meals, he brings a wet washcloth and lays it over your forehead. Don't even think about getting out of bed, because Aki will make certain you're getting plenty of rest. If you're bored, he has no problem sitting next to you and reading you a book until you fall into a peaceful slumber. He doesn't care if it's gross, you can sniffle and wipe your nose all over his t-shirt and he won't mind. He'll hold your hair for you and softly stroke your back if you have to throw up, and he'll toss your pile of used tissues while asking you if you need some more.

❥ You tell him to sleep on the couch that night so he won't catch your sickness, but he never listens; he sleeps with his arms around you without fail. You'll be alright, just rest up. I'm here if you need anything.

❥ If you come home from a particularly bad day, Aki will immediately run a warm bubble bath for you. I'll have the bath ready for you soon, darling. Do you need anything else? He lights some nice smelling incense and candles. Then, he helps you strip down and slip into the relaxing hot water. Before he leaves to toss your clothes in the washer, he asks if you want him to bring you anything to drink, or if you'd like a shoulder massage.

❥ It wouldn't be hard to convince him to come in the bath with you. He'll let you lean on his chest while he washes your hair, his fingers gently scrubbing your scalp until you feel like you could fall asleep right then and there. And of course, he dries you off afterwards, wrapping your body up in a warm towel he took straight out of the dryer.

❥ Even if it makes it more difficult, he always keeps an arm linked with yours while he does the dishes, or a hand intertwined with your own when he's preparing dinner. If he absolutely can't, he takes regular breaks just to pepper your face with kisses.

❥ Aki also takes breaks from cooking dinner just to slow dance with you in the kitchen when your favorite song comes on the radio. He doesn't have the best rhythm, and he's still trying to get the hang of it — He apologizes for stepping on your toes, you simply laugh and kiss his lips.

❥ When the weekend comes, you and Aki like to spend the night drinking at home, sitting on the balcony and watching the twinkling stars. Aki always seems to end up getting just a little too drunk, his face flushed out, his words slurred when he babbles every little thing that comes into his mind. You're so perfect, you know that? C'mere, I wanna kiss you.

❥ If you go out to drink instead, Aki is always the designated driver. He watches you carefully, making sure you don't drink too much, keeping his arm around you when the bar starts to get busy. He never has a lot to drink himself so that he can drive the both of you home safely.

❥ Aki has no problem driving you anywhere, really. He's probably the best driver you know, and he always asks you if your seatbelt is on before he even shifts the car out of park.

❥ If you ever bring up the idea of starting a family together, Aki immediately turns into a blushing mess. He isn't opposed, not at all, in fact. The idea makes him feel warm inside — Settling down with you, raising a family of his own, growing old together with the one he loves. He'd be there by your side for the whole thing, helping you paint the walls of your spare bedroom, or taking care of the kids while you're away at work. He'll finally quit smoking for good, like he's been meaning to do for a long while. You're both still a little too young to think about it now, he figures, but sometime in the future, he'd love to have that kind of life with you.

❥ Your parents love Aki, that's just a given. He's so polite, kind and sweet, and so willing to help at every turn. He feels truly elated whenever he gets the chance to impress them with his cooking. He'll always participate in your family traditions, no matter how odd or unfamiliar. Honestly, your parents are happy for you, and it makes his heart feel full to know they're glad to call him their son-in-law.

❥ Aki will kill all the bugs in the house if you're too scared of them. You don't have to fear spiders ever again when he's around, just call for him to come take care of it and he'll come running with the bug swatter.

❥ He never, ever forgets an important date. Aki already has the most lovely day planned out for the two of you on your anniversary months in advance, and he's up until 12 in the morning baking you a delicious cake the day before your birthday.

❥ If you prefer, Aki will be the one to schedule all of your doctor's appointments for you, and he has no problem always being the one to call if you're ordering take-out.

❥ He tries his hardest to understand all of your interests, and he diligently remembers even the smallest of details about yourself. Oh, when you were in grade school, you went on a trip to the aquarium that you never forgot? Aki takes you there on your days off, and he always recalls which exhibits are your absolute favorite. He asks you questions about your hobbies, and enjoys watching you partake in them. He'll even try to learn them if he can, so he can enjoy the things you love together alongside you.

❥ Aki tells you he loves you at every opportunity. I love you is the first thing you hear when you wake, and the last thing you hear before you fall asleep. At the altar, he said it as a promise, a declaration to be in love with you for the rest of his life. And he says it now, breathlessly, in between every kiss he places on your lips. I love you, more than anything. You're the one I want to be with for the rest of my life, I'm sure of it. I couldn't imagine living without you, my angel.

❥ Aki is forever grateful to wake up every morning by your side, your face being the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes. In many ways, he doesn't understand how he got so lucky, fortunate enough to live such a perfect life. If anything, he promises to never take it for granted, to love you and care for you until it's all over. You changed his life, and he wants to make sure every single day, you know you mean more to him than all of the stars in the glittering night sky. He's glad to call himself your husband, and he's even happier to be able to call you his.

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki hayakawa fluff #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader

[sofasoap]

I love you.

inspired by the prompt line by @celestialwrites , Short ficlet with each of the Task Force 141 men. Prompt can be found here. Pairing :

John Price x GN!Reader Simon "Ghost"Riley x GN!Reader Kyle "Gaz"Garrick x GN!Reader Johnny "Soap"MacTavish x F!Reader Warning : Mature theme, swearing, alcohol use.

Masterlist

Captain John Price:

“Hhhheyyy Captain?”

“Yes love?”

“You know you are a very good looking man, very good looking for an old man??” You slurred as you reach up to his face, patting it before caressing his beard. “Look at this.. ..Luscious mutton chop. Who else can pull this off in such a sexy way other than you?”

Price cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Thank you?”

“And let me tell you a little secret.” You lean closer, looking up at him, as if you are going to make a life changing announcement. “ I LOVE YOU.” You pointed at him. “You, Captain Johnathan Price, I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH. BUT!! I didn’t want you to know.” you pouted, looking down at the wedding band around his ring finger. “Because all the good looking and nice men are taken. Including you.” 

"Tell me that when you get off the morphine, darling." He chuckled. “Get some rest. We can talk again when you are awake.”

“You promise?” “I promise.”

“You promise you won’t tell YOU, what I just said?”

Price couldn’t help laughing at the absurd yet amusing conversation. You were clearly so drugged out on the pain relief, nothing coming out of your mouth makes sense anymore. “Yes love. Come on. Shut your eyes now.” “Ok.” “Hey Captain? Remember. Shhhh, Don’t tell yourself that I said I love you!!” 

“How are they Captain?”

“Recovering. But I don't think they remember we are married.” 

“That bad?” “Think it’s the morphine talking.”

“Oh.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You rub your hands together. You can see white mist coming out of your mouth as you breathe out. It’s only the beginning of autumn, but in this part of the world, winter comes early. 

The team has retreated to a safe house deep inside the forest, waiting for the exfil the next day. Everyone is inside the safe house resting while you take the first shift. Scanning your eyes across the landscape. Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s a very calm evening. You like this. Gives you time to think, reorganise your brain. Have sometime to yourself. And your thought turned to a certain masked man. You have heard of his reputation way before you joined the team. And true to his reputation, you found him extremely intimidating, distant, and cold in the beginning.

Once you gained his trust, proved yourself, you know he actually cares about his team mates a lot. Not a man with words, but through actions. Before you know it, you have slowly fallen for him. But you don’t intend to tell him. A secret you want to keep, deep within yourself. 

Interrupting you thought as you heard the sound of door creaking, you stood up immediately, body into alert mode, ready for the enemy approaching. Only to find Ghost , stepping out of the threshold of the front door. You relax your shoulder, slumping back against the bench you were perching on.  Looking at the two cups of tea he is holding, and back up to him, tilting your head.

“Can’t sleep,” he replied with a gruff voice., answering your silent question. “Thought I would bring you some tea.” There it is again, his way of caring, without saying out a loud. “I think L.T fancies you.” You remember Soap teased you once. “Please. With the way he death-stares at me all the time??” you laughed. “I doubt it.”

“You know Soap is right.” Gaz chimed in. “ Things that he does for you willingly without asking. He doesn’t even do the same for us!”

Making his way to you, he handed you one of the tea mugs, and proceeded to make himself comfortable beside you on the bench. Rolling up his mask slightly, he started sipping the tea. Not often you have a chance to sit close to him, especially so close that you can observe every little detail of his face ( well, part of his face, you thought.). The deep scar that is running across from his cheek right to the corner of his, surprisingly luscious lip. A sudden gust of wind blows across, you pull your coat tighter, and hug the hot cup of tea closer to you, trying to warm yourself up. 

You noticed he shifted his body slightly, shuffling closer to you and tilting his body slightly to face you. He is blocking the wind out for you. You realised. Fuck. Maybe Soap and Gaz is right, maybe he has a thing for you as well. Just as you …..

“....Love you.” 

Dead silence. you could hear a pencil drop. His body stiffens at your sudden confession. 

"No, you don't." he finally whispered out a reply. “You can’t love me.”

You grit your teeth, slightly frustrated. Both at yourself for blurting the confession out aloud and at him. “I don’t expect you to reciprocate my feelings, SIMON. Do not tell me how I feel and who I can fall for.” Lifting your chin up, trying hard to contain your anger.  “Why is it so hard to believe that someone loves you. Or YOU deserve to be loved?”

You know you have hit what is in his mind, as you see his eyes narrowed for a split second. 

Turning your face away, refuse to let him see the tears forming in your eyes. “I am sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise to me Simon. Just think about it.” Shifting your rifle around, “ You are well respected, much more loved and deserve to be loved and cared for, more than you think. Romantic love or not.” You sniffed. “The other boys love you. We all love you. Don’t think so lowly of yourself.” 

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he pulls you into his side with one of his arms awkwardly. You closed your eyes and melted into his embrace. All of sudden fatigue took over. You are so tired. Not physically tired, but mentally.

“It’s ok. I’ll take over the watch. You rest for a bit.” he rumbled out in a hushed tone. He swallowed a bit, “I am sorry.. I don't know .. how to …“ “I said stop apologising, Simon. It’s ok.” Just before you drifted off to sleep, you heard him whispering, “I… I don’t hate you.” You smiled. Maybe that is a start.

“L.T… have you seen..Oh. I’ll leave you two be.” 

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick 

“Is this some kind of prank?” Gaz shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting left to right, hands fidgeting away. “... WHAT?” your mouth dropped open. “ I mean…” Gaz pointing to nowhere in particular,  “Everyone is swamping towards Soap today, are you sure you are coming to the right place?” “KYLE GAZ GARRICK.” Suddenly you were very, very pissed off. “Are you trying to say I am a liar? I am playing some sort of prank on you just for the fun of it?” You half yelled. “That my love confession to you means nothing?????”  

Shit, he has never seen you so angry before. Maybe that was a bad thing to say. Scrap that. It is a very bad thing to say.

Gaz first noticed you when he was sent to the infirmary for some training injury few years ago, you immediately caught his eyes with your gentle smile. The way you treated everyone with care. Laughter of yours, beautiful voice.

The two of you became friends. Every time he ended up in the infirmary, you made an effort to come and check in on him if you were too busy to treat him personally.Little conversations you have when you two are together during meal time. Happy Birthday and festive greeting cards you give to him. 

Before he knew it, Gaz knew he was in love. 

But he isn’t sure if you feel the same. He felt you treated everyone equally. To Captain, Ghost and Soap, the same smile and patience you show him. But that little shyness that you show only to him when he has a conversation with you. Maybe? The insecure side of him keeps convincing himself that the two of you are just friends.  There is no way you will go for a person like him. 

“No.. I .. that’s not what I meant..”  

“Last time I checked, It’s February the fourteenth, not fucken First of April.” you yank back the bag of chocolate cookies you spend hours making the night before, wrapped up carefully in a nice decorative packaging. 

“ You don’t deserve these chocolate cookies if my feelings are going to be trampled on like that. Have a good day, SERGEANT GARRICK.” 

You pushed past Soap as you stormed out of the office, fuming. 

“...You fucked up didn’t you.” Soap asked in the amused tone, as he walked into the office.

“... yes.” Gaz grumbled. 

Plonking himself onto the couch, shaking his head. “You know they have been asking me about you quite a lot lately?” Gaz have noticed you have been talking to Soap quite a lot lately during meal breaks. He was slightly jealous and heart broken when you were spending so much time with Soap instead of him. Now he knows why.

“They were quite scared that you wouldn't reciprocate their feelings. But I assured them you like them as well… but…”  Patting his shoulder. “Flower shops are still open down the road. If you go now, you still have time to make amends.” Before Soap finished his sentence, Gaz was out the door already. “These two fools.. “ Shaking his head as he leaned back into the couch. He helped you two enough, now it’s up to the two of you to sort things out amongst yourselves. 

You heard a soft knock on the door. You deliberately swap shifts at the last minute with your fellow medic, just to dodge everyone who is going out celebrating the special day. “Come in.” You growled out to the knocker, annoyed. You just want to be left alone after the unpleasant and failed confession earlier on. You stiffened as you saw Gaz poking his head through the gap of the door, with a nervous expression on his face, and hiding something behind his back. “... how can I help, SERGEANT?” The way you spit out his rank, makes him wince. 

“Can I come in?” Wiggling himself through the gap of the door, but not making any step further, as you wave him in , impatiently. “I.. I just want to apologise for my behaviour earlier on.” Gaz looks down on the floor, guilt is written all over his face. “My choices of words weren’t, Um. Exactly, nice.”

“.... No.” “ So Um, I.. I got you this.” thrusting forward the bunch of flowers he was hiding behind his back, “and just to let you know I..” shuffling forward toward your desk as he summons up his courage, “I , I am very sorry for what I said, So um, I , ah. Can I take you out for dinner sometime?”

“Depends.”

“Depends?” Gaz looked up, confused.

“ Is this just an apology dinner or pity dinner? If so, NO.” “No, Nono, No, No, I really want to take you out for dinner, as a friend, I mean, not as a friend,” Geez he is really digging himself another hole here. You narrowed your eyes, “What I am trying to say is,” taking a deep breath before he takes the leap, “ I like you , I love you. Not as a fellow soldier but, more than a friend.”

Your eyes widen, shocked. You got the reply you were waiting for, now you don’t know how to respond.  Feeling your face burning, right up to the tip of your ears, you finally let out a little whisper.

“Ok.” “Ok?” Gaz felt like a weight was lifted from his chest. “Yes?”

You look up to him, finally that little smile that he loves so much was back on your face. “Yes Gaz, you may take me out to dinner.”

Reports of people sighting Gaz skipping and dancing along the corridor happily as he comes out from the infirmary circled around for days afterwards.

“He finally asked them out?” “Yep. those two bampots. Been dancing around each other long enough.” “You owe me fifty pounds.”

John “Soap” MacTavish

“Fucking finally!” …. What?

“I've been in love with you for five years, thanks for finally catching up.”

Your brain short circuited, what did he just say to you?? “Hold on, just.. Please rewind?” You wave your hands around, still not quite processing the information that he just disclosed to you. You work as a manger at the bar near the SAS barrack, where the soldiers from the base frequent.. Moving here to Credenhill  from the busting big cities, you are looking for a change, none of those big town cold people feel. Money wasn’t a problem for you, you can live comfortably from what you have saved up before and surprise inheritance from a rich distant relative you never met before.  Securing this job was easy, your experiences of bartending from university days, and also management skills from previous jobs.

This is where you met the Task Force 141 boys. All of them, with different personalities, hit off with you straight away. They seem intimidating from the beginning, but as soon as you got to know them, they warm up to you pretty quickly. Even the scary looking Ghost. “You,” Pointing at Johnny, or Soap as he is known within his friend and fellow soldier’s circle, “been in love with me,” pointing at yourself, “for the last five years?”

“Yep.” Flashing you with his signature brilliant smile,“You are a hard shell to crack bonnie.” taking a sip of his whisky, he chuckled. “Never had so much trouble trying to chase after someone. Even Ghost was telling me to give up.” “I.. I didn’t think you were interested in me?” you stated, meekly.

Soap nearly spit out his drink, “... are you kidding me?” he look at you, with mouth wide open, with a shocked expression.

You have noticed out of the four men, he sought after you the most, likes to come up to the bar area, asking you to make his drinks, having a good chat with you when the bar is a bit more quiet and slower. He will sometimes come by himself, and when you ask him where the rest of the teams are, he will simply shrug his shoulders, “Busy. But it's ok. I am here.” Him staying behind after the closed down time, helping you clean up and walk you home. 

“You are really dense.” Your friend had made that comment once when you bluntly turned down someone’s offer for a drink. “Did you not realise that person was flirting with you??”“... Nope? I thought he was just being friendly?”Your friend gave you a look as if you had grown an arm out of your head. “I… Oh gosh, no wonder.. Never mind.” Shaking their head, defeated. OH. Thinking back, all these flirtatious remarks and subtle hints he was dropping really flew over your head. No wonder even your best buddies call you the most unobservant person in the world. 

Wiping the drinking glasses, trying to hide your embarrassment. You are glad it’s after closing time, no one else is here to witness the strange interaction and confession between you two. “I .. um, seriously, my friend has called me dense many times..”

“Obviously ..” “Hey!!” swatting him with a tea towel, pretending to be angry.

he chuckled as he dodged it. “So what made you want to confess to me tonight bonnie?”

“... I overheard the conversation about a dangerous mission earlier on...” your hand stopped, lower the tumbler glass, looking down into the sink. “... I thought.. If I don’t say anything now.. I might..” taking a deep breath in, trying to push away that panicking feeling that is arising. 

“Hey. “ leaning forward,his hand reaches over the counter, tilting your chin up. “We will make it back. We always make it back right?” biting your lower lip, you nodded slightly, trying not to let the tears spill. “You know what made me pull through the mission every time?”

“... What?” 

“The thought of you.” his voice dropped, laced with slight pain and sadness. “Coming back to you, to flirt with you,” you let out a teary chuckle, “I always think, will they get my hint this time round? Will they finally accept my invitation for a date?”

“.. you asked me out on a date before?”

“... Did you not realise?” 

You gave him a look, obviously not.

“So Bonnie, will you go out with me when I come back?” “.... Yes.”

“Well, this is a great place for a first date, Johnny.”

“It’s still a date, right?”

“Not with all the IV line and  wires attached to you, bandages around your head, cast on your leg…and three other people in the room.” “Don’t mind us.” “It’s hard not to.” 

A/N: Thanks @writeforfandoms for nudging me to write this. this actually went on longer than I expected.... taglist: @floral-force @homicidal-slvt @okayyadriana @jynxmirage @captainpriceslover @tapioca-marzipan @siilvan

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x gn!reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x gn reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish x f!reader #johnny soap mactavish x fem!reader #captain john price #john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #prompt writing #cod fluff #cod angst #cod fanfic #cod

[slvtforfiction]

NSFW Alphabet

☆ Schlatt X Reader

☆ Smut

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

A = Aftercare

(what they're like after sex)

Schlatt is caring and yet again he does try but mainly just cleans you up and then cuddled you to sleep after.

He loves taunting you about your pleasure before giving you great aftercare and showing that he does care and he meant none of the taunts and teasing.

B = Body part

(their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He loves your hip dips,he can't explain why he just thinks there so sexy.

You love his mutton chops for obvious reasons,especially when you can feel them when he presses into you.

C = Cum

(anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves making a mess just to humiliate you before having to clean up.

You could be absolutely wrecked and he would still light heartedly degrade you and taunt you because he knows secretly you love it.

D = Dirty secret

(pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's jacked off to you whilst you were in the other room with Ted.

He once got a boner from you showing him your new dresses that you bought.

E = Experience

(how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

He knows exactly what he's doing,he didn't when you first had sex with him because it was his first time but you showed him and he learned quickly.

F = Favorite position

(this goes without saying)

He loves simple missionary but with your legs around his shoulders because he loves getting that bit deeper to hit a part of you that makes him so close to bottoming out that your pleasure is the only thing you can be reminded of.

G = Goofy

(are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's more goofy because he doesn't want there to be a serious tension in the room because he hates it,instead he cracks jokes or makes you moan so loud he doesn't even need to say anything.

H = Hair

(how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He tends to keep trimmed but rarely shaved because he knows you don't mind as much just as he doesn't mind your hair down there.

I = Intimacy

(how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's very romantic during it but sometimes he can act like your just a hook up and toy before treating you with the best aftercare you will ever receive,acting as if your a princess.

J = Jack off

(masturbation headcanon)

He can be very horny so if you're not around he can sometimes send you photos of his hand wrapped around himself.

If he's not around and your horny and you for some reason tell him he will ask for videos.

K = Kink

(one or more of their kinks)

He loves praise and worship to give to you but he hates being praised because it makes him feels insecure.

He also loves to degrade you whilst praising you e.g "my pretty little slut."

He likes e-sex if he's away and can't get to you so he can still here your moans of pleasure and watch as you fuck yourself blind imagining him.

L = Location

(favourite places to do the do)

He's a simple man and prefers the bed but if that isn't possible this man will do it anywhere.

If he's horny and you are there he doesn't care where he gets off as long as it's inside of you.

He doesn't care who sees or hears you because he knows at the end of the day he loves you and will make it obvious to everyone.

M = Motivation

(what turns them on, gets them going)

He loves seeing you in big v necks and especially if your in one of his jumpers and just your panties,even better if you have nothing on underneath.

N = No

(something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He refuses to do anything piss related,not that you asked,he just made it so extremely clear every time you were having sex and you feel the same.

O = Oral

(preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving because he loves feeling your thighs clamp shut around his head because of how much pleasure your getting and it's all from him.

He will then tease you about it later before giving you great aftercare.

P = Pace

(are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on his mood,if you've been teasing him all day it's slow and sensual because he knows you need it but he wants to drag it out.

If it's angry sex after a fight etc. he fucks you into next week with no remorse and smiles as your eyes glass over from the pleasure and as your voice dies out because you've lost it from screaming.

Q = Quickie

(their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers the full experience and would prefer to tease but if your about to stream or he's about to stream he would definitely prefer a quickie and if it is a quickie he would prefer to give you head and eat you out rather than put his dick in you and the same goes for if you give him a quickie,he would prefer you to give him head.

If he does go the full mile for a quickie by sticking his dick inside of you instead then depending on who wants the quickie it would be more prioritised.

If you wanted the quickie he'd make sure you cum and get himself off a different way,and the same goes for you,if he wanted the quickie then you'd make sure he cums and then you would get yourself off a different by masturbating whilst he streams etc.

R = Risk

(are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves risk and loves letting you know even more.

He thinks that one day if he ever gets walked in on whilst fucking you it would make great taunting material and a great way to show the person that your his and how good he makes you feel.

S = Stamina

(how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This man can fuck you so far into oblivion that you've forgotten how many rounds you've done,how many times you've cum and how many times he has.

You sometimes wonder how he does it,you once asked him how he does it and he pecked your lips before whispering "Because you are so damn attractive."

T = Toys

(do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

They love to fuck you with multiple toys so he can play with taunting phrases (e.g "God such a slut for me." , "Is this how I make you feel baby? You eyes rolling back so far into your head you go blind?"

U = Unfair

(how much they like to tease)

They love teasing you but hate you teasing back,for example he once teased you by walking past you with all of your friends around during a video and whispering in your ear, "God I'm going to fuck you so hard later." Before landing a slap on your ass without the camera seeing,and he did in fact fuck you into oblivion that night.

But once you did reply yourself in your flustered state you whispered back to him "Yeah sure,but I'm guaranteeing that you can't make me cum." After that sentence he made you cum 10x that's night to prove that he could indeed make you cum.

V = Volume

(how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He doesn't make much noise unless he's joking or releasing small grunts and obviously acknowledging the whimpers falling from your mouth with taunts,teases and degrades.

W = Wild card

(a random headcanon for the character)

He's fucked you infront of Ted before,he walked in whilst you were riding him in his chair hiding the secret fuck under your skirt that now laid across both of your exposed laps,the second Ted entered you went limp and stopped moving moving your head to his shoulder whilst schlatt kept his hands on the small of your back,both of you pulling off the lie that you were asleep in his lap whilst he still secretly stayed inside of you.

X = X-ray

(let's see what's going on under those clothes)

8 inches almost 9 when he is hard,he knows you can barely take him as it is and it makes him so horny at just the thought.

Despite the baggy T-shirts he wears etc,he's pretty buff

Y = Yearning

(how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is a tiny bit above average about 3-4 days a week is their usual sex drive because they are a horny guy but they also just like to have the emotional infancy of sex when they aren't being rough.

Z = Zzz

(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He definitely makes sure your both cleaned up and comfortable and then will fall asleep whether it's before you do or not.

He tried to stay awake but he can't for long,and as long as your comfortable,clean and happy his mind is at ease.

#Spotify #smut #song #romance #cute #fluff #schlatt x reader #schlatt #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt

[1d1195]

Dolcezza Extra I

Read Dolcezza here | ~4.7k words

From me: this is something I’ve never done before: an alternate idea to something I've already written. I will be copying and pasting parts to keep the continuity but I hope you like it. It was pretty fun. The first couple paragraphs are from the original part. I’m sure you can all follow without me telling you all this. Have fun!

Warnings: stalking, scary (?) Also, no clue what kinds of protocols are supposed to be in place for this sort of thing. I don't think it makes a lot of sense logistically or law-wise. But that's not what we're here for, right?! I wanted it to kind of go right in the middle of Part 8, like starts in the beginning-ish part of it and end essentially in the same way.

It was one of those nights where everything was going wrong, and everything was too busy. Antonio was caring for Leo, the baby, and the missus—all sick with something Leo brought home from preschool, so Harry and Niall were left in charge. Normally, the sweet girl found her way down and situate herself at a station doing the takeout orders but given the little... spat (what else could he call it?) she seemed to be avoiding him.

His phone began vibrating in his pocket without pause for three full minutes, but he literally hadn’t a second to look at it. All he wanted was for the pretty girl to appear. He wanted to apologize profusely for overstepping. He just cared for her so much. Even if she wasn’t comfortable with how he handled things, he wanted to make it better. He cared so deeply for her it hurt to be apart from her without so much as a text message between them over the last two days. He managed to see her exit a car that wasn’t hers parked in her spot. At least her car was getting fixed. But he imagined she had another busy Friday and Saturday. He wished he could have helped more. Wished he didn’t mess up and revealed that he messed it up in a way he couldn’t fix it.

The moment the orders slowed, Harry was planning to race up her steps and beg for forgiveness.

Harry dropped a knife for the third time on the same onion he had been trying to dice for the last five minutes. He growled to himself, snagged it off the floor (nearly slicing his hand from his anger overtaking rational thought to pick it up by the handle), and all but tossed it in the sink.

“Why not just talk to her?” Niall muttered across the way.

“Shut up,” he snapped, bitterness coating his voice. Niall raised his eyebrows at him and shook his head. He turned the other way, turned his attention to the soup he was pouring into bowls. “M’going to,” he mumbled grabbing a clean knife as he started chopping again. “Sorry.”

He nodded. “It’s alright. Just thinking we could really use her help,” Niall smirked.

Harry snorted. “Y’could probably ask her,” he mumbled. “She’d come running t’help m’sure.”

“Yeah, but it defeats your whole she’s spreading herself too thin. And then I’m no different than rest, huh?”

Harry sighed, grateful for his understanding. “You’re a really good friend, Niall.”

“Don’t I know it,” he laughed. It was infectious. Hard to keep Harry in a bad mood and he prayed to God the orders slowed soon so he could run up and beg her to come help Niall and him because as much as he didn’t want to ask her for another thing, working with her on busy nights were some of his favorite moments.

Harry’s phone was still vibrating. He wondered if he set a timer for something and it was just going off continuously. “M’phone’s been ringing nonstop.”

“Mum?” Niall asked.

“No... she knows m’at work. Plus, she’d call the restaurant if it was an emergency. I gave her the number.”

“S’probably an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah... probably.”

“Oh, she’s here,” Niall mumbled his gaze narrowing at the slip of paper in his hand. “Eggplant and two times the extra garlic bread…” Niall waved the ticket out like he always did when they realized the arrival of Harry’s Principessa.

Well, at least Harry wouldn’t have to sprint upstairs to apologize. Still, it was odd she didn’t make herself known when she got there even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Harry glanced toward the window for a peek to see if she was there, but he was too far away. “Niall did you see her?” He asked.

“No…” his voice was low, over the bustle of the few staff that were in the kitchen, Harry hardly heard him. Like he was piecing a puzzle together. He was studying the slip. Like it would give him the hint.

“See who?” The hostess asked. She was grabbing a take-out order off the counter that Niall had just finished packaging. Niall slid the ticket into the holder still examining it.

“Principessa,” Niall mumbled. “She always orders extra garlic bread with her eggplant.”

“Oh yeah she’s here with her brother or something,” Antonio’s nephew, Matteo, jumped right into the conversation as he brought back empty plates from the dining room.

Harry’s head snapped up from the veggies he was cutting and tossing into a pot to make a sauce. “Brother...?” Harry didn’t think that made sense at all. He remembered seeing “James groceries” on her calendar while he cleaned earlier in the week. It was always done on a day when James had to work in the evening so there was no way he would have come all the way out here for dinner. Still, he thought Harry would have known if James was here—between his protective brother streak or even just saying hello and thank you for the food. Harry thought she would bring him right back here to the kitchen and make herself at home.

But maybe Harry misread it. Or maybe James finally suspected she was tired and strung out and was taking a step to help with his kind older sister.

“Well, it’s not dinner with you; so, who else would it be?” Matteo reminded them with a shrug.

Niall gasped dropping the plate he was holding, and it shattered to the ground. Everyone stopped to look at him and he grabbed the ticket once more. Like it finally revealed the missing clue. At the same time Harry dropped the fourth knife he was using because if Matteo hadn’t said “who else would it be” they might not have put it together right then.

Harry hurried to the window and searched. “Where’s she sitting?” His voice was hurried. There was a one second pause. “Matteo, now!”

“Corner, near the door. What’s—”

“Niall...” Harry’s body felt weak and shaky. His blood was hot and boiling immediately. His vision was getting blurry at the edges, and he had never felt so close to throwing up in his whole life. Not even when he had the flu in university.

Why was his phone vibrating still?

“Oh no,” he murmured reaching for the phone in his pocket.

“Shit!” Niall hissed looking at the direction of the man sitting across from the pretty girl all the way across the restaurant.

Harry slid his thumb across his phone without taking his eyes off the table across the main room. The weakness he felt ached through every inch in his body. “Eleanor, I—”

He yanked the phone away from his ear as she responded, loudly, shouting. “Harry! For the love of GOD! Do you never look at your phone!? Why do you even have one!?”

Harry felt sicker at the accusation. How could he not look at his phone? “El—”

“Harry it’s bad,” Eleanor sobbed, barely getting the words out. Harry could hear Louis shushing her as best he could. “It’s really bad.”

It was every one of Harry’s worst nightmares.

*

She was trying to process why the door was open. She quietly stepped back from her own door, but she wasn’t in control of her own body. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal. Her brain tried to reason with her muscles that there had to be a reasonable explanation. Instead, her muscles continued moving; she pressed the volume button on her phone to turn Eleanor’s voice down even though she continued rambling about how Harry adored her, and she was pretty sure he was in love with her too.

Not even the idea of Harry loving her could shake the nerves away.

“El... Eleanor,” she whispered listening intently to Antonio’s office door distinctly closing and three foreboding footsteps reaching her door. The clinking metallic sound of someone fiddling with the lock on her door came next. She had the phone pressed to her lips trying to soundlessly alert Eleanor as best she could as she scurried backwards as if the door was on fire. “El! STOP!” She hissed listening for more sound.

“What?” She could hear the eye roll in her friend’s voice. “You have to confront these emotions Harry is—” There was a low voice cursing outside her door as the lock was fiddled with more and she stepped back as the door opened. Her jaw dropped along with her phone smacking to the ground. She could faintly hear Eleanor calling at the sound of the noise.

The man before her smiled excitedly, relieved. “You’re home. I knew I’d find you,” he sighed with relief reaching for her. Instinctively she took a step back, it took every ounce of her self-control to keep from throwing up all over herself or the not-so-stranger. “I’m so glad I’ve found you; I missed you so much.”

Her heart was pounding erratically. Her only saving grace was knowing Eleanor heard. She reached for her phone. Autopilot. Grab the phone that clattered to the floor.

He kicked it out of the way. “You don’t need that,” he assured her with an easy smile. She straightened; cleared her throat.

“I…don’t?” She whispered. She should have spoken louder so Eleanor could hear. Of course, she loved her apartment, and she loved Antonio and the little family he invited her to be part of that was Dolcezza. Right then, however, she wanted to cry that her apartment was soundproofed beyond auditorial recognition. Her eyes dropped to the fabric in his hand. She swallowed the bile that continued rising in her throat while he looked at her as if he had known her his whole life.

“No,” he shook his head.

Her mind wasn’t working. She was exhausted and terrified and poor Eleanor was screaming from the other end of the line. He grabbed the phone. “Hi Eleanor,” he said simply. “She’s okay. We’re going on a trip, she’ll be safe with me,” he assured her.

Then he left her phone on the side table. Hanging up and leaving it there. It started to vibrate immediately; Eleanor desperate to hear her answer again. Instead, he ignored it, held his hand out for her to take. “I need my stuff—” she stepped toward her bedroom, but he grabbed her arm. She yanked it away, like he burned her. She gasped at the touch, and he frowned.

“Sorry—”

Her fight or flight kicked in and she bolted for the bathroom. It would lock and she would drop from the second story if necessary or scream until Harry heard her.

Oh. Harry.

Right as she tried to slam the door shut behind her his foot got in the way. She yelped as he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the room. “Honey, stop fighting me,” he grumbled bitterly. She felt so sick. So scared. She wanted to scream and cry but it would be useless. No one would hear her. She needed to make someone hear her.

Slowly, painfully slowly, her brain started to work. It wasn’t much. But she prayed silently to herself that it would be. She took a shaky inhaled breath. “I’m…sorry,” her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. She was too scared. It was a nightmare, but she could feel the way her teeth bit into her cheek. It wasn’t something she would be waking up from. “I’ve had a really long week and a really long day. I haven’t eaten yet,” she whispered. “I was going to go downstairs and eat at the restaurant,” she sniffled. “Can we do that? A date?” It tasted sour in her mouth to say it. Her fingernails dug into her palms reminding her further it was a nightmare. It had to work. Please let it work.

“A date?” He mused. He stuffed the fabric in his hands into the pocket of his pants.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m starving.”

“And then we can go to my place?”

The idea was so nauseating, so terrifying, she worried that it wouldn’t work. If the food got to her table, she was so incredibly scared she wouldn’t be able to eat it. Her whole body felt shaky and clammy. Like when she had the flu. One bite and she would be puking all over her table.

But hopefully that would get Harry’s attention.

“Okay,” he agreed and held his hand out for her to take. It felt like cheating on Harry to hold someone else’s hand. She forced the tears behind her eyes and willed the nausea to stay in the pit of her stomach.

She placed her hand in his.

*

Harry was pacing trying to figure out how to tell her he knew. Niall was on the phone with the police begging for no sirens and no lights. Eleanor was, in the smallest of possible ways, relieved to hear she was in the restaurant and not halfway to somewhere they didn’t know.

Harry couldn’t see her face. It killed him. Why didn’t he go up sooner? Why didn’t he beg for her to come down and help so they could make up? Why didn’t he insist and help her stubborn self the way he wanted to?!

“Goddamnit!” He shouted and shoved a bin of clean cutlery on the floor. It was so loud the restaurant ceased to make noise for a prolonged moment.

“Harry,” Niall was off the phone with the police Eleanor sobbing in his other ear no doubt. “You need to be smart. They cannot leave before the police get here or we’re fucked. Eleanor already sent the detective on her case to his old place of residence and there is no sign of him there. So, if they leave…” he trailed off and Harry released a strangled noise from his throat. Not quite a cry, not quite a yell. The pain was so intense from the thought he thought he could feel it in the atoms of his body. “If you cannot have a controlled response...,” Niall warned without finishing the sentence.

Harry swallowed the feeling of being sick down. He knew what Niall meant. “Okay,” he croaked.

Everyone was still trying to work. But the whispers ensued. Within moments, everyone knew. Everyone was trying to piece together a plan and Harry felt so confused, so lost, so scared because the only one he could ever imagine getting out of this situation was his sweet Principessa herself.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. He needed to be brave. She needed him. She never needed anyone. The weight of that made him terrified. Shaking his head he pressed the heels of his palms in his eyes to stop the stressed tears from escaping. He swallowed and shook his head again. She did the hard part. She got herself in the restaurant and Harry’s attention without even talking to him. “Niall, bring out the garlic bread in three minutes,” he ordered while untying his apron and heading for the door to the alleyway. “Tell Eleanor to tell the detective to hurry.”

*

The restaurant was easily one of her top five favorite places in the world. But right now, she wanted to scream and run from it. Where was Harry or Niall?! God, she wanted to kill Matteo. How did he not know? Wasn’t everyone under a silent direction to tell Harry when she arrived?

The worry began to take over. Harry wasn’t coming to her rescue because he didn’t want to. She pushed him away and he was going to let—

No.

Harry, despite how mad he might have been, would never let anything happen to her. She was certain.

Wasn’t she?

Perhaps Harry really just didn’t know. It was unfortunate, but there was nothing she could do about it. Especially without any indication that anyone knew she was there. Her back was to the restaurant, and she was still in her gym clothes. With her back turned, hair in a ponytail, she was probably less recognizable than normal. That had to be it. He had no idea she was there.

It was a miracle she could keep her breathing as even as she did. The thoughts started to spiral further. Maybe he wouldn’t know. It was really busy in the restaurant—Matteo might not have noticed she was there with a stranger when he seated them since the hostess wasn’t there. Maybe he didn’t tell Harry yet.

Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears it was hard to hold a conversation with him almost because she couldn’t hear him; more so than the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him. But she didn’t have a choice. He asked her about work, her family, and if she had been reading anything good. She wasn’t into it—it was obvious and she wished she was because the only thing that was going to save her was being able to play it off that she didn’t want to crawl out of her skin at the sight or sound of him. Her stomach was churning, and her voice was so quiet she wished she could do a better job acting but she was terrified. Pain started behind her eyes, and she wanted to scream.

“Good evening.”

Her head snapped up to Harry briefly, who seemingly appeared out of thin air. Her jaw dropped silently. She was really beginning to believe that he wasn’t coming to her rescue. But now he was there. He knew she was there. He was going to help. She was sure of it.

He knew she was there.

Her heart started to pound in a new way, still scared but for the first time in twenty minutes she took a deep cleansing breath; relieved. She looked at her lap afraid to give it away that she knew him.  “We are very short staffed this evening. We’re extremely sorry for the delay,” Harry sounded so formal, and she couldn’t look at him. If she did, she would cry. “Your food will be out as soon as we can. Please be patient with us. We’re very sorry.”

If she looked up, she knew his eyes would be looking at her. She knew his apologies weren’t about the food. The gravity in his voice said he was sorry because he didn’t know she was there sooner. He was sorry he didn’t come upstairs or to her rescue faster. A tear slipped across her cheek. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Do you have a bathroom?” She asked.

“I don’t think—”

“Of course,” Harry interrupted hurriedly; she could practically hear the excitement in his voice. Like he was grateful she had a plan because he was a little stuck, a little lost. It made her feel weak immediately. The worry Harry must have felt because of her made her feel guilty and sad. She wanted to fix it and it was hard she felt like she was balancing on a tightrope. She hoped Harry wouldn’t hate her for running the second she had the opportunity. “I’ll lead you,” he offered.

“You just used the bathroom upstairs, honey,” the man reminded her. His voice was tight.

He was going to be mad if she left; that much was evident. “Well, I just—” She started.

“She’s all set, actually. Thank you.”

Harry stared at him. Weighing his options. She could see it. She cleared her throat. “Um...it’s okay,” she whispered quietly. Refusing to look at Harry again. If she did, she was going to blow what little cover she had. Poor Harry. “M’just a little tired,” she assured him, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“S’back and to the left,” Harry murmured and then headed to the next table and explained the short-staffed shift again. She wondered what he was thinking and what he was saying to the table. They looked like regulars, but she wasn’t completely sure because her mind was frazzled. Harry leaving her to fend for herself, even though he was only four feet away at most had her aching for him more than she ever wanted to hold his hand in her whole life.

Harry was losing his mind. He knew she understood his apology for taking so long. He knew that she understood between the lines that he was apologizing for Matteo’s mistake in not telling him sooner. Harry would have been out in the dining room so much faster. As much as it pained him to see her seated across from another man, regardless of the circumstances. It would have been better if she was with another guy in general. At least he wouldn’t be worried sick about her safety.

It took every bit of his strength to keep blowing their cover. To keep from shaking while he told the next table that they were short-staffed. They quietly inquired about the strange man sitting with the sweet girl they all had grown to know as their sometimes-waitress and Harry’s lovely Principessa. He quietly murmured something and then casually bumped into the table dropping the knife near the edge to the floor. As he bent to grab it, he murmured to the guy, pleaded with his eyes as he tried to whisper devoid of emotion. “Do not let her leave with him.”

Harry moved to the next table—strategically he chose the tables that allowed him to keep her in his peripheral. It was killing him. The shaking was becoming uncontrollable, and the whisper beg to the couples, imploring for help from the people he had gotten to know over the years, was getting strangled in his throat as he moved to the third and fourth table.

He was at a loss. The bathroom was a great idea, but he hadn’t a clue as to how to get her from point A to point B. Maybe he could pour hot soup on her, insist she come to the kitchen for help. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to spill their hot soup in her lap either. He supposed he could throw ice cubes in it and make it less horrible on her delicate skin, but he had to do something! His mind was spiraling. He wouldn’t see her in his peripheral in just two more tables and he was already about triple the distance of what he wanted to be from her—granted even an inch of space given the scenario seemed more horrific than he could bear.

He was feeling nauseous. Maybe he should just grab her by the hand and pull her away. But they had a chance to get rid of him. To keep him away from her once and for all. He violated the restraining order. That had to be something. He would have to go away.

Despite the fact she was so close but felt like an entire galaxy away. Harry was crumbling internally. This poor older woman who had been coming in every Saturday for years looked at him with pity in his eyes as he repeated his spiel once more. The agony he felt was in every inch of his bones, every pore of his skin. His eye was twitching.

When he got her safe and out of harm’s way, he planned on never letting go of her. At least not for a few days. He was going to kiss her and hold her. Apologize to her and cook for her. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Harry was going to tell her he loved her and didn’t care if she was stubborn or felt like she was hard to care for because she didn’t like to be needy. He was needy. He needed her. It was killing him to be so close and so far away. So helpless and terrified that he couldn’t help her the way he wanted to right then. Even scared shitless, he thought she was beautiful and brave. So brave. She got here. She got his attention. That had to mean something. She believed in Harry and that he would find her or know she was there despite the frustration and anxiety she felt.

It was hard to believe it was only three minutes since he actually talked to her and apologized for taking so long. Niall came from the back with a plate of garlic bread as promised. Niall was going to come up with the next part of the plan, Harry hoped. Hell, he would go back to the table, feigning exhaustion for apologizing twice. God, he needed to get a bowl of soup, he was going to have to spill it in her lap! It was the only way.

Harry listened intently as Niall arrived at their table. He could almost see the glitter of her tears in her eyes. Nearly crying again at the sight of Niall. He wanted to make a joke more than anything that it had nothing to do with Niall but everything to do with her favorite bread in his hands. But he was mortified. Speechless in front of a table waiting with waited breath as they heard the murmurs and the wisps of what Harry managed to mumble before Niall’s arrival.

“Garlic bread,” he announced, as if she didn’t know. “Buon appetite,” he winked casually. He was far better at lying and acting than Harry or herself combined. She was itching to run. Niall and Harry, both could stop him. Someone would tackle him, right? She was fluttery. Ready to leave as soon as she saw an opening because she didn’t know what else to do. “Can I get you two anything else?” Niall asked kindly.

“I know you,” he said. It lacked suspicion but was no less terrifying.

She could see Harry’s back straightened in her peripheral and his speech silenced. Matteo and the hostess were working from the other end of the room at the same time. Probably explaining the situation to every table as quietly as they could just like Harry was.

Without any tell in sight, Niall merely tilted his head and looked at him. “Hmm...sorry. M’not sure I recognize you,” he shrugged. Niall stepped closer, getting a better look at the man across from her. His acting skills deserved an award.

But in moving closer, Niall also blocked her a good margin from his view. It was her chance. She bolted. Running from the main room and toward the kitchen so fast it took a minute for anyone to realize she was gone. She zipped out the kitchen door, back through the alley, and up to her apartment. She heard a shout coming quickly behind her, so she had to be faster. She hurried back into her apartment unable to do anything but grab her phone off the table and run into the bedroom and hide in the closet, closing the door quietly behind her. She dialed Eleanor. Her heart pounding as she heard the sound of steps. She left the door open to make it look like she ran back out, but it was impossible.

He was already in the apartment. Already tearing through her belongings, shouting, upending her furniture, and rifling through everything.

“Babe?” Eleanor nearly screeched with relief.

“I can’t talk,” she whispered barely an audible octave.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay on the phone,” she promised. “The police are on their way.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz

@likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59

@babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06

@canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong

@foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03

@luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr

@crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @harryscherri

@indierockgirrl @michellekstyles @hermionelove @somethingabout1d19

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @lovingfurypanda @sideboobrry11 @theresnooneheretosave @12yeahiminluvwu

@cohnfusedarling

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles concept #hs #hs fic #hs writing #one direction #one direction writing #dolcezza

[cherry-cola-on-ice]

Hey, i've read a few of your slasher posts and i really like your writing. If you arent able to its perfectly alright but i was wondering if I could get a few slashers with a s/o that can't feel pain and so is unaware when they get hurt. It could be when meeting or having already known eachother. Thank you so much!

Reader out here like:

Michael Myers 🎃 (First Meeting)

He watched from the shadows as you pulled glass from your forearm, without even flinching.

If anything, the annoyed expression on your face was amusing to him. He'd seen many things in his life, but this was new.

For a moment he forgot why he was stalking you through the decaying house of his childhood. Instead he continued to watch as you searched for something to cover the wound.

It wasn't until your eyes met his, that emerged, holding a first aid kit in his hand.

Jason Voorhees 🏕 ( Dating)

Good lord, are you trying to give him a heart attack? I mean, he might already be dead, but still!

It was so innocent at first, you truly trying your hardest to keep up with himself during walkies. He's just got dem long ass legs.

Well next thing you know, you're on the ground and you're bleeding. Jason's panicking, you're not. He doesn't understand, he sees bone. Wtf?

Don't try to explain the science to him, he doesn't care. Now he's just worried about you not being able to tell if you're injured.

Hannibal Lecter🩺 (Before Dating)

Fully understand the science behind it. It may or may not be one of the reasons he was interested in you.

However, it wasn't until you nearly chopped a finger off helping him cook and look down and was like "K." that he felt worried.

Even if you're not accident prone, accidents happen. And you, not feeling pain which mean there's not properly connected in parts of brain that receive the pain messages, which means you might potentially-

He's spiraling in that science shit™️

#slasher x reader #michael myers x reader #jason voorhees x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal tv show #silence of the lambs #halloween 1978 #friday the 13th

[explosionkatsu]

“Age doesn’t matter.” 1

Dad!Bakugou x FBabysitter!Sensei!Reader

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

The day that Katsuki married her, most of his friends kept advising him it was not a good idea, she was a walking red flag, and she only loves him for his wealth since being the second-ranked hero he is and holding his own agency, money isn't a problem to him.

Until he got her pregnant. After giving birth to his son, recuperating, and finally moving on her own again, she left him without any notice, not any letter. He just got home and frantically made his way to his wailing child in his crib. Katsuki immediately picked him up and made his way to the kitchen preparing his child a bottle for his formulated milk. As soon as he felt the milk was lukewarm, he tap the nipple of the bottle on his child’s lips and saw how his son starts sucking it.

That made Katsuki leave work for a month until he was able to ask for help. With the help of Mitsuki and Masaru, they took care of their grandchild in daylight, and when Katsuki got off from work, he would pick up his child and take care of him by the night. Even though his mom insisted to take care of her grandchild full-time, Katsuki declined and said that he wanted to take care of his own blood as much as he can.

Years passed and his now 7 years old son adores him very much. He saw how his father beat up the villain and save people. It makes him want to be a hero like him. Every time Katsuki would come and pick him up from his grandparents, he would reenact the moves Katsuki did making Katsuki smirk.

“Alright brat. Stop with that and pick up your stuff. Let's head in.” Katsuki said parking his car in his garage as he opens the door for his son to get off.

“You look so cool! And you went kick! And then bam!” the kid said as he went and pick up his things from the back seat.

“I know I am. Now let's go inside.” Katsuki said locking the car door and going inside their home.

Once they both settled, Katsuki changed from his work clothing to his normal clothing and starts preparing their dinner. “Oi. Don't forget to work on your assignment!” he yelled, receiving awe in response that made him chuckle.

Katsuki watched his son drag down his school bag making his way to the living room where the center table is.

“I heard from your teacher you’re doing well,” Katsuki said as he chopped the ingredients.

“I need to be good so that I can be strong like you!” his son said making Katsuki smirk.

“You think I’m strong?” Katsuki looked at his son who was working on his homework by himself.

“Mhm!!”

Katsuki took his time watching his son count his fingers before saying aha as if finding out the answer. When Katsuki continued his chopping, little did he know his son suddenly went quiet and stopped writing. He stared blankly at his unfinished homework before speaking up.

“Dad,” he called out softly.

“What?” Katsuki replied thinking that he might need his assistance with his homework.

“Why don't I have a mom?”

His question made him halt his chopping. He knows the answer to his question and yet he was hesitating to say it. He's too young to know that his mom suddenly left them when he was still a baby.

“I saw my classmates being picked up my their mom.” His son added.

“I could pick you up after school.” Katsuki glancing at him.

“I hate being left alone at school when Grandma can't pick me up.. Sometimes, Ms. Y/n would take me out with her and eat in a cafe.”

This he didn't know. “What?”

“Sometimes grandma and grandpa can't pick me up because they have a lot of clothes to make so I'm always left alone at school with Ms. Y/n”

Why doesn’t his mom tell him this?

“How long do you usually wait for them to pick you up?” Katsuki was pissed.

“It gets dark outside. Ms. Y/n would take me to her home and would cook for me! She's a great cook, dad!”

Katsuki will make sure he’ll discuss this with his parents.

“Sometimes, Ms. Y/n is like a momma to me! She take care of me. She wipes the dirt off my knees whenever I tripped. She has a small apartment though. But it's very clean!” Katsuki stared at his son as he rambles about his teacher. “And, and, Ms. Y/n has a healing quirk! It's very cool whenever I watch her heal someone, her hands are glowing! Although if it heals, she’ll get a wound out of nowhere..”

Katsuki is now interested. He has this eagerness to meet this teacher his son is talking about. He's been too busy being a hero to the point he relies on his parents to drop his son at school. But after what he heard, this is the first time he’ll drop his son to school.

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n

[violetsiren90]

Evergreen | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x human!f!Reader

(A Nothing But You universe fic)

Genre: hybrid AU; one-shot; established relationship; domestic fluff; slice of life; mountain living; pregnancy

Word Count: 1689

Summary: Seasons change, life moves on - but some things stay the same.

Content Warning: PG-13 for themes but my page and all its content are 18+ (minors, dni); wolf hybrid rut; mentions of knotting and marking; mentions of rut symptoms that include insomnia and lack of appetite; deep emotions; the use of "your" and "belonging" in the sense of committed love NOT ownership; pregnancy; mentions of different states of undress; domesticity and shared domestic responsibility; homesteading; Chris being the sweetest and most caring 😭💕; Chris chopping wood 😳; mentions of food and eating; implications of sexual intimacy, parenthood

Author's Note: I guess I went and fell in love with these two. This is a companion one-shot to Nothing But You. This one-shot is a different flavor, not as soft and cozy all the way through - there are more notes here, I think. Some sweeter, some sharper, but in the end, it's still them. I wanted to peek into their lives and see how they lived and loved. 🥰

If no one has told you yet today, please know that you are so loved, and so worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

~January~

Snow burdens the branches of the pines, the bitter North wind whistling between the trees, through the darkness, and over the blanket of fresh powder shrouding the forest floor. The mountains are sleeping, but your wolf is awake.

He nearly collapses, sinking to his knees as he shuts the cabin door. You spring up from your place by the fire to rush to him, but he holds up a hand, a growl rumbling low in his chest. You freeze. Panting, he slowly raises his face. Snowflakes cling to his lashes and dust over his head and shoulders. The dusky circles under his brown eyes speak of weariness, yet their expression is dark and wild. His nose is flushed from the chill. Beads of sweat quiver on his brow.

The fever still hasn't broken.

It appeared two days ago, with other sudden changes. Christopher has grown restless and short-tempered, and won't sleep in your bed. He smells intoxicatingly of cedar wood and amber.

You've been through it all before, his annual rut at the end of winter - four days of watching him endure the throes of primal agony. He would steal away at night, to hunt, your proximity far too overwhelming for his heightened senses and desires. Unchecked he would fail to stop himself. He would take you, mark you, knot you.

He hadn't in the four years you'd shared a bed and the comfort of the other's flesh. You'd spoken of the mating rites, but he always held off, afraid to break you. So protective of you always, and without a second a thought to himself.

You respected his space, his wishes, attempting to help him navigate the torment of his natural longings as best you could.

But this year it had taken him like a wild fire. The fever wouldn't break. He wouldn't sleep or eat. And now, here he was, half frozen and shivering on the floor.

No more.

You slowly cross to pull him up against his weak protesting. You peel away his frost-damp clothes and drag his heavy frame to rest upon the bed. With his last strength he tries to push you away, but you slip under the blankets beside him, pulling him into your arms.

His eyes flutter shut as he curls against you and nuzzles into your neck, whimpering that when he wakes it will be too hard for him to hold back.

You tell him not to try.

You tell him that you need him, want him - all of him. This part too, with all the others.
You assure him softly that you're not afraid, nor should he fear to make you his...you already belong to one another, after all.

You whisper that you love him.

Christopher exhales, tears trickling down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and melted snow. You hold him to your breast, brushing soft kisses into his hair.

Cedar wood and amber.

~April~

You shake out a flannel shirt, crinkled and bunched from wringing to hang it on the line that stretches from the side of the cabin to a young yellow birch within the clearing. You smile as you fasten it with clips. He had worn it on the first day he visited the diner. It was faded then, and it has grown more timeworn still. But the fabric is thick, the seams hand-sewn, and if the dye has begun to abandon the thread it is only ever the softer. 

Strong and soft, like him.

The warblers are singing in the branches of the white pines as they busily fashion their nests. You stroke a hand down over the little bump of your belly, musing over the nesting that has started to change the trappings of your own little home. There's still plenty of time, but Christopher's excitement has poured forth in the form of hard work, and you're certain that when your time comes he'll have stored by enough for the next three winters yet.

You hear the rumbling of his truck a ways off. He left in the wee hours, the bed loaded down with wares to sell to suppliers in town. By the time you've strung up the last piece of washing he's already at the mouth of the trail, his arms laden with flowers and parcels wrapped in brown paper. The light wash of his denim shirt brings out the early kisses of the spring sunshine on his honeyed skin.

You follow him into the house where he puts your wildflowers into a vase and insists that you sit while he tends to lunch. Unwrapping the brown paper packages you find a set of pretty maternity pajamas, a box of chocolates, and the goat's milk soap you like. 

He's already eaten half his sandwich when he sets yours down, and you tug his wrist, pulling him into a chair to prevent him from setting out to work yet again. 

When the dishes are cleared you won't let him leave. He'd work every second of every day and well into many nights if you let him. But today you want him to rest. It's a mild and lovely afternoon and the chores are done. Other things can wait.

You sit across his lap on the porch swing he built two summers before. Your arms encircle one of his as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

His lips brush your forehead as his thumb caresses the little curved scar where the slope of your shoulder meets your neck. The one that means you belong to him and no one else.

The birds sing and the swing creaks.


~July~

He calls you from around the other side of the house. You draw an arm over your dripping brow and struggle up from where you're crouched to spread a batch of plump, ripe blackberries between the screens of the drying rack. There are still so many. Some you'll turn into jam. Christopher will eat the rest. He loves them. You rest the colander still half-full with berries against the full swell of your belly, wrapping an arm about the rim to keep it in place. 

You're hot and uncomfortable these days. But, when the morning's work is through, you'll go down to the lake together to shed the day's heat in the cool, still waters. You'd been every afternoon that week. Christopher was a strong swimmer, and would stay in far longer while you sat on the shady bank with a book. When he finally quit the water yesterday, he'd never found his clothes - instead he'd pressed you back into the lush green grass and made you sigh his name. 

As you round the far side of the cabin your eyes catch his form. He stands under the sweltering sun, stripped down to pair of fitted khaki work pants and thick suede boots. His muscular chest is slicked with sweat and he stands, panting, with his weight pressed into his right hip. He holds an axe in his hand.

His mouth pulls up at the corner and his tail swishes at the site of you. You tuck yourself against him wrapping your free arm around his damp waist. Oh how you want to swim. To hold his strong body in the dark water.

He gestures with the axe at what he's fitted together with stripped pieces of soft pine. A little cradle. He nudges it with his foot, setting it to rock. You bring a blackberry to his lips and he accepts it.

You kiss him.

Salty skin and summer fruit.


~October~

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of little cries. You sit up and stretch, blinking in the softness of the early autumn light.

You inhale deeply. Cinnamon and hickory smoke.

Outside the air is growing crisp and the leaves of the deciduous trees are blushing and abandoning their hosts, covering the floor of the wood in their pageantry. Fruit and game have begun to grow scarce as the forest prepares to enter the long slumber of the colder months. Nights require fires more often than not.

There is a small fire crackling now. A little black cauldron hangs over the flames, and you can smell the porridge simmering within. The man you love sits in a rocking chair near the warmth, a little bundle in his arms. He looks up at you as you rise and he smiles. He's been all smiles lately. In fact, you don't think the little dimple has left his cheek since he met the tiny she-wolf in his arms two weeks ago.

He says she looks like you, but all you see in her beautiful little features is Christopher. She has two tiny fuzzy ears and a darling little tale.

You reach down to stroke her fat cheek and your heart aches.

It aches from love, so much of it.

When the doctor placed her in your arms a part of your heart that you hadn't known existed burst to beating. You thought you loved the man who had knitted her inside you as much as you were able, but you had been ignorant in that respect as well. When he took your daughter in his arms and looked down on her face you thought that there wasn't room in your chest for things so vast, so deep.

You named her Hannah, for the sister her father had lost. It meant "grace".

So fitting, you think.

You move your fingers into Christopher's curls and he looks up at you. His brown eyes are soft and warm. The lovely eyes you saw that first day at the general store - the same through every changing season.

The maple and the birch will wax and wane, but not the cedar, not the pine.

Some things will remain.

And he is evergreen.
 

-Fin-

#skz x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #skz fantasy au #hybrid #hybrid au #wolf chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x female reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids fan fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #bang chan oneshot #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot

[whaleofatjme1920]

Passing Autumn Nights

[Proxies (Toby, Masky, Hoodie) X GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: also known as the 'fuck me i just miss autumn' fic and LOVE writing slice of life things.]

[1356 words <3]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Moments like these never last forever. Fleeting, careless, and bittersweet, they remind you of a time long, long passed. The moon is rising and a chill runs through the air. It oddly warms you and reminds you of friends that pass in and out of your life just as freely, though in your past life it might have caused you minor concern. 

You sit on the hood of this stupid car Toby stole. It’s sporting a giant dent in the side, and some of the paint near the tires is rusting but it’s taken care of the four of you so far. In your hand is a pack of cigarettes. You don’t smoke. You tried it once and hated it, coughing up like a crude imitation of a dragon lighting up your first attempt, and never tried again after that. They’re actually Tim’s; he wants you to hold them to help kick his habit. 

Brian says it’s a sign he’s trusting you more and more. After all, no one knows Tim like him, and you trust your right hand’s judgment. 

Laying in the back seat is Brian himself. His forearm is over his eyes to shield them from the harsh overhead lights in the parking lot. He smells like pine, the woods, a bit of whiskey but not too much. He’s got his back windows rolled down as he waits with you for Toby and Tim to finish whatever the hell they’re doing inside the grocery store. You all needed some cash, and Tim has ways of getting it without any suspicion raised. Whole registers, wallets, purses, things lifted without so much as a smile on his face and an oddly friendly, ‘have a nice day’ in response. 

In your hands, you play with the lighter Tim also left with you. You flick it a few times before finally hearing your right hand’s voice. 

“Leave it,” he hums tiredly, not bothering to move his forearm from his closed eyes. “Thing’s low enough.”

You smile softly and cap it before resting it back in your jacket pocket. For a mid October day, it’s only a little cold, which is surprising. You expected it to be chillier. Or maybe that’s just your proxy blood telling you to not register cold the way a human might. There’s scrapes all over your body, some from missions, others from training, only one from The Operator himself. You trace over the heated mark on your clothed thigh and internally wince, remembering when you upset him. “Sorry,” you apologize half heartedly as you run your thumb in slow circles over the smooth box of cigarettes. “Just get antsy waiting.” 

Brian hums again in response as if to ask ‘why’, but makes no further move to press. He just smiles slightly in response to your presence. “You can always ask them how they’re doing,” he says. When you glance over your shoulder to peer at him through the windshield, he tapes at his temple. Head talk, of course. 

You squint a bit across the parking lot and feel a small bout of relief wash through your system as Tim and Toby step out of the store, bags in hand from legitimate purchases, and well, you can feel the things they acquired outside of legal bounds. “No need to,” you say in response to Brian. 

“Get off the hood,” Tim chides you slightly, but he makes no further move to disturb you. It’s said much like an older brother would to a pesky younger sibling. 

In solidarity, and out of a love for annoying his leader, Toby haphazardly opens the trunk of the car, tosses the bags inside which earns a scowl from Tim, and then bounds over to sit on the hood with you. He leans back a bit, resting his tired body alongside yours. “Kinda crowded in there,” he says to you, knowing you’re curious about how it all went. “Bit too crowded for a Thursday at 8pm,” he muses further. He runs his fingers through his chopped brown hair, gazing at the night sky. The moon has always captivated him. Reminds him of simpler times. He likes autumn just as much as you do, and this feels like the best it’s going to get. 

“What took you guys so long, then?” You inquire as you and Toby listen with half attention to Brian and Tim’s conversation. Something about future work, run of the mill proxy lifestyle things. 

Toby rummages around in his pockets and pulls out a handful of dum dum lollipops he lifted. He gives you a toothy grin and nods for you to pick a flavor before he settles on blue raspberry after you’ve chosen. He crinkles the wrapper, shoves it in his pocket and then holds his hand out for you to give him your wrapper as well. He pops the sweet thing in his mouth and savors the taste before shrugging a bit, “you know Tim. That’s how it always is.” He smiles when Tim taps the windshield in slight annoyance. 

“C’mon, get back in the car. We got somewhere to go,” Tim says as he starts the car up. Either you two get in, or he’s driving with you two strapped to the top of the car. 

“Shotgun-!”

“Sh-oh come on,” Toby sighs in defeat as you snicker in triumph and slide off the hood of the car. You pat his shoulder and then round your way to the passenger seat, settling in and feeling oddly warmer despite not registering you were cold to begin with. You watch as Toby slouches his way to the backseat with Brian, who at first, does not want to move for the former runt. When Toby shoves him, Brian only laughs and tells him to ‘not get your panties in a bunch’. 

“So, where are we going?” You ask as Tim puts the car in drive and smoothly leaves the parking lot. You’re always surprised at the places proxies end up. Right now, you’re in southern Illinois right around Ruth’s hometown. You wouldn’t tell her, but you visited her family’s farm and left a small gift. She would say it’s far too much, and even dangerous for proxy influence to be near her folks and younger siblings but The Operator’s always been fond of her. He wouldn’t hurt them. Not while she performs beautifully for him. 

Tim props his left arm up on the sill of the car window, resting his head there as he drives with one hand. He’s very relaxed, preferring driving at night as opposed to dealing with everyone else when the sun is out shining. He won’t admit it either, but he loves autumn nights like these too. He watches the lights of the town start to fade as you head further south. “Stopping in a small proxy town, meeting with EJ, then Jeff is gonna tag along. Something about… a farm? Lotta farms lately,” he chuckles tiredly. “It’s kinda perfect for Halloween - I’ve never seen The Operator so fascinated with a witch before. So, that. He said he wanted us with those two, and we’ll get further directions once we’re at said farm.” 

Brian clears his throat and adjusts his posture so he’s sitting up. “That farm gonna have pumpkins?” He asks. It’s surprisingly out of character for your right hand, arguably one of the most brutal proxies in your team. 

Tim shrugs. “Fuck if I know.” 

You laugh softly, “why? You wanna carve some?”

Some part of Brian’s old world personality shines through. His smile, the crinkle in his eyes despite him being older and no longer a college student but a weathered, jaded proxy is visible as he nods slightly. “Yeah,” he sniffs slightly, gaze now falling out the window at the orange, red and yellow trees visible from the car’s headlights as you pass, only to see them disappear as the four of you roll through. “Always liked autumn,” he says. 

There’s that warm, gentle feeling again. You focus on your lollipop, feeling the presence of something mulled and sweet. This is as good as it’s gonna get. 

“Yeah,” a pause, “me too.” 

#creepypasta x reader #proxies x reader #marble hornets x reader #masky x reader #toby x reader #ticci toby x reader #brian thomas x reader #hoodie x reader #creepypasta x you #marble hornets x you #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #masky x you

[heartfullofleeches]

I would love butterfly boi hc <3

-🩷

Adonis - Yan Butterfly Hcs

Warnings: Cannibalism, Mentions of death, Stalking, Gross Behavior (namely sweat)

-

Adonis is a male, conventionally attractive purple emperor butterfly. The attraction for many stops as his looks as getting to know him people tend to notice something.. strange about him. He seems friendly on the surface, but never expresses deeper interest in others beside his darling unless they've been injured or taking about their medical history in any form. Before meeting his lover Adonis has a very bleak, but cheerful outlook on life. It leans heavier on the brighter side once he realizes his feelings to the point he meets every day and event with a smile - even those where he's witness to or commits terrible crimes against humanity.

• Works for a crime clean up crew by day and most nights, and as a grave robber others. Most, if not all, of the jobs Adonis receives are phoned in by crooks/corrupt members of power as with his appetite it's killing two birds with one stone. They usually allow him to take whatever since he's already taking care of the body which results in nearly every house he cleans appearing as if no-one ever lived there.

His "souvenirs" are his prized possessions - till his darling comes around. Then he's willing to share. His first gift to them is an engagement ring he received as payment for his first job. It's a priceless heirloom, if the guy it belonged to have just sold it he'd still be around, but if that happened Adonis wouldn't have been able to give it to someone who deserves it more. The second gift is matching butterfly knives. Always on the hunt for more things to present to his darling during his cleanings. Anything brand new shows up on their doorstep or hooked up indoors if tthey haven't changed the locks again.

• Adonis' ideal darling is someone who's a little untidy. He enjoys his job and taking care of his lovebug, plus while cleaning up their home he can find more treasures to take with him. Half drunken bottles, sweaty clothes, straws they may have bitten. If they're the type to have adult toys he'll clean them by hand... likely with his tongue or after using them himself. It's important to keep things like that clean and sanitized.

Has a nasty habit of throwing out fragrant soaps and perfumes/colognes as they mask the natural scents he adores. Adonis is touchy and clingy during all seasons, but Summers are his most active as seeing his darling sweat cause him to lose all train of thought. Refuses to let his darling shower without bathing them with his tongue first when sweaty. If they aren't a fan of his tongue he'll wipe them down with some towels and huff the moist cloth instead.

Adonis' ideal first date is capturing someone from either his or his darling's past and burying them alive in a grave at his local cemetery while they have a picnic nearly in the butterfly garden. Adonis is stuck up in his head at times with fantasies of domestic bliss chopped up with slaughtering the neighborhood on the eve of a big anniversary. He makes killer banana bread.

What's his is his darling's, but the one thing he forbids is them going into his closet. Adonis has a hobby for polaroid photography and his closet is where he produces the film. He'd hate for his darling to recognize a face in his red folder drawer or find the drawer labeled with their name

#yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere hcs #Adonis my oc #yandere hybrid #yandere writing

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

kinda part 2 of the suicidal yuu thing, uhhhh that is a request?? kinda??? i really want to here your thoughts about it and one of the reasons why i sent it to you is because i think you have something amazing to add. (also because i love sad yuu)

Missing Yuu

How they mourn over the loss of their best friend— I kinda inspired/off topic sorry

TWs: GN Yuu. Mostly platonic Some have romantic subtexts like pining and such. In Vils, Jamils, and Idia’s it is implied more explicitly that Yuu took their own life. There are references to songs and movies from Yuus world, specifically Ponyo Time/Space +Mary by Alex G and BaBopByeYa by Janelle Monae. Game refernced but theyre listed in Idias section. (Also for any nerds ik that isnt how MKW’s ghost data works but shhh imagine the angst,

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul thought he was done mourning. It’s been years since you died, he actually remembers that entire month vividly to this day. How he was in his office, sorting through some papers and awaiting his tea from Jade. It took longer than expected. He would surely accept this from Floyd, but Jade of all mer? Disgruntledly, Azul gets off and goes out to look for the eel. He was only a few steps out of his office when he hears some faint sobbing. Oh dear, that's not good for business…

“Yer lying!” Floyd sobs as Jade holds onto his brother with a particularly grim expression, everyone in the lounge gone silent, each patron not daring to disturb the conversation unfolding out of pity. “Floyd, there is no reason to be mad at Deuce, he’s only the messenger.” “What’s going on here?” Azul asked sternly, getting ready to shoo out the Heartslabyul member. “Ah, there you are Azul.” The spade said, with defeat in his voice.

Nothing Deuce said registered in his head the minute he heard ‘Yuu is dead’. The words strung together were incomprehensible to him. Yuu? Gone? As if! That little prefect was always in everyone’s business! They went up against blots for the sevens sake! They couldn't be dead! But as Deuce continued to speak, the reality started to set in as they handed Azul a small box. “They wanted you to have this.”

The Lounge was closed for a few weeks afterward, the entire school seemed to be in shock. That entire month he couldn't even think right, his mind seemingly blocking out the existence of the prefect he grew to adore. It was only when he saw the twins mourning in their own ways, did it remind him. How Floyd would always keep the handmade eel plush Yuu made on his person, keeping it in the best condition possible despite his messy personality. Jade had a new accessory on his person as well, a small bag shaped like a Fly Agaric mushroom, it went with him everywhere even if it wasn't the most practical. In the gardens, Azul found himself wandering over to your small plot, where you kept your own crops, sitting next to Jade as he continued to care for your plants after your passing.

It was because of you, did he and the tweels he worked alongside closely become friends after all these years. A few years ago he couldn't even imagine seeing them as such, they were merely business partners, a means to an end. Yet now the three of them actually hang out or just… talk.

When he is alone at night does his mind wander as he opens the beat-up box to look at his own gift, memories flooding in from the device in hand…

You were in the VIP room, he doesn’t even remember why, when he heard you reference a few movies from your world. “It was good I ended up being summoned with some of my things, I honestly don't know what I’d do without anything from my world, especially my comfort shows.” They mentioned offhand, chopping it up with Floyd.

“Though we don't have mermaids in my world, we do have a lot of TV shows about them. I wonder how they hold up here?” Azul continued to scribble on his papers as he eavesdropped. “Oh, I know! What if we have a sleepover and binge-watch some of them, maybe you guys can rate how accurate or offensive they are!” Floyd practically squealed with glee at the idea, and he knew he had no choice in the matter.

It was the end of senior year now, and he was packing his things to head to his home in the Coral Sea. He also never thought he would go back there too, but he supposed spending some time with his family should do some good. As he packed everything out of his safe, he examined the box that he was given on that fateful day, old and torn up, and he opened it up again.

An alien laptop attached to a projector was inside. On a piece of paper were the password and log in. It was also ironically one of his best projects to demonstrate his magic comprehension. One of his finals was to prove he knew how to do a proper protection spell, and what better to protect than one of his most prized possessions, more valuable than the coins he loved to collect?

Azul remembers the praise he was given by one of the professors that visited NRC. The spell was one of the most powerful he’s ever seen! Not even a fingerprint could be left on the thing, and it was completely waterproof as well! But what was he wasn't expecting to be praised for was the device itself. “Now did you make this thing, Mr.Ashengrotto? I must say it is quite impressive! I have never seen this sort of technology before!”

The mage was blindsided by the praise, not even knowing how to react. He wanted to stop the professor, correct him, say that his friend was the one who made it, but the words seemed to die on his tongue. If he talks about you right now, he would cry, and if he cries that means you mattered to him, and he still doesn’t know how to feel about that. He didn’t even call you his friend when you were alive, calling such a term now seemed unfair. And yet you were. You are arguably the first friend he ever had. The first friend the trio even had, and he didn't even have the courage to consider you one until you died.

Azul held onto the box as he and his friends pass through the mirror, promising to all meetup and hang out again soon as they made their way home. His mother was the first to greet him in a tight hug as she rambled on about how much she missed him and how proud she was of him, how she made his favorite, and how she can't wait to celebrate his graduation. His grandmother greeted him from the kitchen as he and his stepfather carried in the few boxes he took with him back to his room.

His mother soon came in to help him unpack, and she stumbled across the old torn box from earlier. Azul didn't even realize she opened it until he heard it open and a familiar tune played.

Ponyo, Ponyo, Ponyo, Little fishie in the sea~

Tiny little fishie, who could you really be?~

Ponyo, Ponyo, Ponyo, magic sets you free~

“Ahahaha! Is this some sort of kid's show, shrimpy?” “Hey! Ponyo is for all ages, firstly! Secondly, it's my favorite movie and it's mermaid themed!” The prefect defended themselves from Floyd's teasing. Azul chuckled in agreement with Floyd's words as he made himself comfortable on the couch with Jade. “Well so far there is nothing offensive in this movie, however, I do find it offensive that you see us as children, Yuu.”

“I don’t! Im just trying to show you my favorite movie first!” Yuu bit back at Jade's snark as the tune plays, the prefect messing with the computer and the projector attached to it to project it onto the white curtains of their dorm. Azul never expected to even care about some stupid kid's movie, yet as it drew out he was completely invested. The brightly colored film even manages to keep Floyd enraptured until the end. Jade commented on how much of a delight it was.

They continued into the night, watching show after show, some corny, some fun. “This is far from accurate!” Azul huffs, “People actually watch this where you're from?” “H2O Just Add Water was a big deal for a while actually!” “I’m curious prefect, is this how you thought mers were?” Jade teased, leading to another mini-argument.

“Haha! Imagine if we actually turned into mermaids if we touch water though! That would be funny~” Floyd chuckled, reaching onto the table filled with food and snacks and shoving a handful of candy into his mouth. The atmosphere was lively, and the night was perfect, he had never been so relaxed before, especially around his dormmates, it felt almost domestic in a way— was this what it was like to have friends?

The very next day it was back to normal, but that stupid little movie kept playing in his mind. He would rather die than admit it was his new favorite movie, however, but it seems Yuu always knew. Their gift proved that.

Azul seemed to freeze in place as the sound from the laptop continued. “Son?” His stepfather asked as he watch the mer shake. He thought he was done mourning. A sudden sob of anguish escaped his throat as he nearly screamed, years of guilt and sadness coming out all at once. Azul sobbed into his parent's arms, choking back sobs as he apologized, stuttering out gibberish as he inked. He never told them about you, he never even told him about his overblot, but tonight, he will, you would have wanted him to heal.

Ponyo, Ponyo, Ponyo, Little fishie in the sea~

Tiny little fishie, who could you really be?~

Ponyo, Ponyo, Ponyo, magic sets you free~

Oh pretty fishie, will you swim back to me?~

Jamil Viper

His parents never gave him the time to mourn, even when Kalim told them it was okay. “You need to watch over him!” His mother scolded. “He is our employer's son! If anything happens to him—“ Jamil blanked out at the rest, his mind immediately shutting when he was getting yelled at for the sin of grief. If he wasn’t so exhausted, he would have probably yelled at them. Actually, he wished he did, it’s what you would have wanted for him.

Jamil never expected to be so close to you of all people, and he especially never expected you to understand him. But, you did. In fact, you stood up for him. He remembers how you would often distract Kalim for his sake, allowing him to get some much-needed rest from being at his beck and call 24/7. You helped him with his chores as well. He doesn’t even remember when you officially became his friend, it just felt so natural.

Finally, after all of these years, he had someone that cared about him, that listened to him, that understood him. He could never confide in anyone until you came around. He remembers vividly talking about his parents off-hand while you were in his room. He didn’t mean to vent about them, you just asked how they were doing since they sent him a letter and it all came out.

They barely even wrote to him, they only asked about Kalim, it's like he doesn't even exist! They don’t do this to Namja, not that they should, he loves his sister, but it is just so… frustrating. It’s just like he's just an extension of someone else!

He didn’t even realize he was crying until you put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m… I’m sorry.” Jamil whispered. “Don’t be.” You smiled at him, a warm, genuine understanding smile. You didn’t speak as he vented, and you didn’t try to offer solutions or pity, you just listened and validated him, the very first and only person who has ever done that. The topic soon changed to music, he thinks it's because you brought up some of the headphones he had in his room, and you both exchanged your opinions on the subject.

“The music here is so similar yet so different from my world, it's good don't get me wrong, it's just… strange.” “What is the music from your world like?” He asked as you swung your legs on the edge of your bed. “Uhh, what's genre you like? I’ll try to find something similar on here.” You held up your phone as Jamil started describing the music he liked.

After a moment, a song played from your phone. Beautifully unique instrumental unlike anything he's ever heard started playing. He started to understand what you mean by similar but different. The singer began to vocalize, but the language was utterly incomprehensible, the language unlike anything he has heard.

“Oh right, I forgot, language barrier, different dimensions, hold on!” The student took off the enchanted necklace given to them at the beginning of the year and handed it to him. Jamil hesitantly took it, clasping it around his neck. The minute it clasped around him, the lyrics suddenly started making sense.

I hear echoes of your laughter

In the corners of my mind

As I memorize each detail of your intricate design

In your hair, there is symphony

Your lips, a string quartet

They tell stories of the neon valley street where we first met

Now somewhere time pursues us

As we love in technicolor

But I dwell in silence of your words that move me like none other

This time I shall be unafraid

And violence will not move me

This time we will relax

This time we will stay in our movie

“Woah…” Jamil whispers. “I know trippy right?” You asked the interdimensional gibberish from their lips suddenly making sense. “Hearing you speak my language sounds so surreal, it suits you though!” You smile. “Oh if you like this song, I know another one you're gonna love!”

You were such a great friend, you still did everything you could for him despite your own situation, so he reciprocated. You couldn’t eat today because Crowley had you run all his errands? Good thing he made an extra lunch today, for no reason of course. No time to study because of that overblot that happened? Oh no, it sure would be a shame if his old graded assignments with the correct answers written on them got mixed up in your stuff.

He didn’t explicitly state his intentions, it would take him a while for him to truly open up and say what he meant because of his upbringing, but you didn't care. You understood. And he was here for you the same way you were there for him. When you complained about your master's most recent demands, he was there to listen the same you did when he complained about his.

He was devastated when he heard the news of your death. If it wasn’t for years of keeping his composure, he would have fallen apart then and there. He felt sick, the earth was suddenly spinning around him. Everything Crowley announced after was a blur, Jamil didn’t even realize Crowley was talking to him until he said his name for the third time. A small box was held out to him, note attached to it in Yuu’s handwriting.

Jamil took the box and continued to stare off into space until the announcements came to a close. Kalim was inconsolable as they walked back to the dorm. Kalim wiped his tears holding onto his own box, and both wordlessly went into their rooms, needing time for themselves. The minute the door shut behind him, Jamil let out a cry of pure agony, collapsing onto his bed as he wept.

For the next few weeks, Kalim tried his best to not rely on Jamil, even ordering him to take a vacation though he didn't have the power to do so, it was ultimately up to his family. Still, Jamil appreciated the sentiment. Kalim would try to cook for himself and do his own makeup, even if it wasn't the best. It was ironic that even in death you continued to help with Kalim, your death making Kalim more independent, and mending their relationship by proxy

Jamil hadn’t opened the box yet, nor read the note. He hasn't had the courage to, but tonight was different. He opened the small box, peering at the device inside. It was an MP3 player of sorts, he assumed, along with a pair of high-quality earbuds. His eyes watered too much to read the note properly, but he did see the password to the device. Pulling out the device, he noticed that the necklace Yuu used was also in the box.

Jamil clipped the necklace onto himself and entered the password. He placed the earbuds into his ears and swiped through the device. He paused as he saw the albums you created for yourself with all sorts of names. Study Playlist, Rock, Love Songs and Pining, and one simply titled For Jamil.

He shakily tapped on it. More tears rolled down his cheeks as he scrolled through all of the songs you put in it, all of them songs of genres or vibes you thought he would have loved. It would be too much to listen to it right now. He tapped back to the list of albums and kept scrolling though, abruptly stopping at one album.

This Time I’m Really Gonna Do It, it was titled. He tapped on it and immediately started the playlist. Most songs were about loneliness, homesickness, derealization, self-harm. Jamil sat, hunched over, laser-focused on the lyrics of each song.

Mary is the one that leaves you to rot.

She says I am real and you are not.

She says

I am real

And you are not…

Jamil began to sob again as he listened as it all sunk in for him. You were gone, and for the entire time you were here, this is how you felt. You were always there for him. You always comforted him. And he couldn’t do the same for you. If he was just there a little more, if he just truly asked and truly listened would you still be here? If he asked about your family and your home, would you have been able to find it easier here? If he were more honest…. As he sobbed another song started playing, lyrics resonating deep within him as it played.

Hold on tight to this time this place,

Cause everything you know will be erased.

You were born inside your head.

And that is where you’ll go when you are dead.

Vil Shoenheit

When he received the news of your passing, he decided to take a break from the spotlight, announcing his hiatus to his manager and his social media. He was less strict in ruling dorm, and much more forgiving of Epel's outburst of rage, knowing that he was mourning in his own way. Rook was a blessing with how much he understood and stepped up to give Vil a break, an unspoken thank you between the two of them.

Vil kept you in his mind while doing everything for a while. Even as he applied his skincare he found his mind explaining it to himself as if it was his first time. He imagined explaining the process to the overworked prefect who seemed to never have enough time to care for their skin, or afford it. “Now exfoliate gently in circles like so,” his mind would say, and he would close his eyes and pretend he was doing it to you. He never even got the chance to gift you the cleanser he made for you.

As he prepares his salads, he finds himself making an extra one on the side. He remembers how you would occasionally complain about skipping meals because of Crowley, and he would imagine that if you were still here, he would have given the meal to you while lightly scolding you.

When he applies his makeup, he experiments slightly in the way you would. You seldom wore makeup with how busy your schedule was. The few times he saw you with it, he remembered you mentioning that one of your friends did it for you. If you were given the materials and time, how would you have applied it? Would you use a brush or sponge for your foundation? Perhaps your eyeliner would follow the trends from your world?

As he led his club, he remembered what you would mention about the shows from your world and how you viewed magic from an Outlander's perspective. He found himself looking at some of the graphic novels and manga from your world that you lent him before you passed. You said they were made into movies, some good but most bad. As he flipped the pages he saw the sticky notes you wrote on each one, translating the foreign language for him. Your handwriting was comforting.

He wondered which one of these were your favorite as he read, admiring the storylines. How did movies work where you were from? Did you miss them? This comics would make for a good one, maybe he can direct one based on them…

Vil didn’t want to use social media, but he opened it up to go and find yours. Going onto some of the freshman’s socials, he found you in their followers. You were a private account, and he couldn’t see any of your posts. He mindlessly requested a follow, not expecting to be let in immediately— you must have already been following him, and he couldn't help but go through your entire account.

You didn’t follow a lot of people, and only your friends along with a few bots followed you. Most of the posts were of photos around NRC or of friends along with some inside jokes. Some posts consisted of memes or images that weren’t like anything of that of his world, captions talking about how much you miss home. The horrible realization of you being an Outlander seemed to sink in even more at the caption. No one here truly knew you, you had very few to remember you. Your family will never even know what happened to you, that you died. Vil shut off his phone, regretting his decision to reopen Magicam.

The Dormleader even found himself eating a bit unhealthily, in moderation of course. He remembered how you would practically shove everything down your throat before having to go off and do your next task without any etiquette whatsoever. He even remembers Epel saving up to buy junk food and sweets to give to you as gifts. Apparently, you couldn't afford them or had nothing like them in your world. He even remembers the captions of you complaining of only eating one thing all day and such.

He requested Epel to tell him some of your favorite desserts you enjoyed or the ones he planned on getting for you, perhaps he could understand you more if he ate them, or perhaps consume them for you since you never got the opportunity to enjoy them. Epel had no use for his gifts anymore, so he shoved most of them into the communal fridge.

In one of his runs, Vil noticed that the freshman’s mood seemed to sour more as his phone continued to ping. “Epel. Your phone. Either turn it on silent or respond.” Vil reprimanded. “Ugh, I can't! They keep finding me on everythin’! Even harrasin’ my folks at home!” Vils brows knitted together, “What are you talking about?”

“Ever since you followed Yuu or something like that I’ve been getting a buncha DMs and stuff asking if I knew anything about you or who Yuu is to you, seriously it’s driving me insane! It's happening to Ace and the others too! Assholes doxxed me and even got my number so I can't just block em.” Epel wiped away a tear that threatened to fall. “Can't even be left alone to mourn…”

“Let me see them.” Vil opened Epel's social phone, seeing notification after notification pop up. Opening his social media, he saw that even with the restricted access and privating of his account, almost all of the comments were about him.

>Hey! Hey! Hey! Do you know Vil???

>Please DM me for an interview!

>Hello there Mr.Epel, do you know a person named Yuu?

>Do you know who Yuu is to Vil??? Are they like together or something???

The sight made Vil feel sick as he turned off the phone and handed it back to Epel. “I’ll take care of this Epel, I’m sorry you have to put up with this.” Vil knew making a simple announcement wouldn’t be enough. He sighs as he sends a message to his manager, requesting her to get him an interview.

***

Vil sits up straight on the seat across from the interviewer, going over introductions and greetings as the camera rolls, broadcasting everything live. The interview goes smoothly. Vil already has his answers to simple questions about his career memorized. “So, Vil, I’m sure you are aware of the recent news going on about who you followed.” Vil nods, throat suddenly going dry. “Yes, I didn’t know that it would blow up if I’m being honest.”

The interviewer laughs for a moment. “So who’s this ‘Yuu’ person now? It’s not every day you follow a private personal account, they anyone special?” Yes, yes they are Vil thinks. Vil takes a deep breath. “I actually want to address the recent drama regarding them,” Vil pauses to hold back a stutter, it was strange, why was he being so emotional now of all times?

“Yuu is…” There were so many ways to describe them, but nothing came out. “They are no longer with us. They have passed away recently and…” Vil wiped away tears forming in his eyes. “I want to ask everyone to please stop harassing everyone, they are all— we are all mourning their loss and…” Vil suddenly chokes back a sob, and the weight of it all suddenly starts to sink as grief envelops him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to stop this interview here, I need… I need some time for myself…”

Vil stands up and goes off-screen, covering his mouth with his fist as he walks off. On the car ride back to NRC he hesitantly turns on his phone, looking at the notifications that pop up. Opening his Magicam, he looks through some of his comments, most of which are now apologies from overbearing fans and inquiries about his mental state. One notification stands out from the rest, a small red dot near his messages. Tapping on it he sees a DM from no other than Neige LeBlanche himself asking if he was alright and that he was always here for him.

“How could you forgive everyone around you for mistreating you?” The blond asked the prefect in front of them. “Everyone here has treated you horribly.” The prefect merely shrugged, “It’s much better to make a friend out of an enemy than to destroy them, after all my first meeting with Ace and Grim was far from perfect.” They chuckled before sipping on their drink as they sat across from the model. “If I started shutting out everyone because of a few bad experiences, I would have never met you. Besides, I can't let things get to me that easily!” The last part is now ironic as Vil reminisces.

Vil wiped another tear, before pressing accept on the DM request.

Idia Shroud

It was like it never happened. You were just offline, the Shroud reasoned upon seeing your profiles on everything no longer active. To an outsider, it was like Idia didn’t care, he continued on his computer without a tear shed.

To Ortho, however, it was obvious that everything he was doing was to preserve what was left of you. You were summoned with a few items, one of them being some portable gaming device that was now his. Idia remembers when you first showed it to him when he was curious about how games were from your world. He remembered you were a bit upset that you couldn't play a majority of the games together as it required two devices, and Idia being as tech savvy as he was merely snickered before hooking up the device to his computer and copying the files.

A bit of coding and emulating later, the young man now had an entire library of interdimensional games on his pc for him to enjoy, and now he can join your sessions online. From farming sims to FPS, he thoroughly enjoyed all of it, fascinated at how similar yet different everything is. Certain buttons are mixed up, common gaming terminology from his world wasn’t used.

He would often join you in all sorts of random games. Even games he never thought he would enjoy like that weird ‘Skate 3’, ‘Power Washing Simulator’, ‘Raft’, ‘Animal Crossing’ or even ‘Stardew Valley’. It was fun to visit your farm or island, or to skate with you, or even to power wash things. There were so many fun and unique games that your world had, and since your passing, he wanted to try and share it with everyone. He didn’t have time to mourn with how busy he was!

The games you brought over made him happy, and now he wanted to share that feeling with everyone else in a way to honor you. The media wondered why STYX of all companies started releasing a bunch of free games to download. The only thing they charged money for was the soundtrack, where all of the proceeds went to mental health and suicide prevention programs.

All the time he spent on his computer was him testing every game you had and adjusting them to work on these world’s devices with ease. Occasionally when he got to a game you especially adored, he would add a few features that he remembered you mentioning wishing were in it before uploading them. Each game's credits had you listed in them as one of the creators as well.

When he wanted to take a break, he ended up playing his new favorite game, Skate 3. He didn’t necessarily care about the gameplay however, rather it was a feature he learned about only after you died. Even when your friends were offline, their character would occasionally appear and skate with you. It was the only way he could ever hope of playing with you again, and every time he finds your character, he pretends that for a moment you are in your dorm on your couch hopping on with him.

He still on occasion opens your other games and cares for your Animal Crossing island, your Minecraft dog, or crops in Stardew Valley. Ortho would also occasionally play one of those multiplayer games with him too like Mario Party, Halo, Terraria, or Smash Bros. Ortho was mourning you as well, you were like another big sibling to them. He would still play the Minecraft world you all shared and visit your house, adding decorations to it as he progresses to include you in a way.

The kid hated whenever someone misinterpreted his brother's actions, often passionately correcting before getting emotional over the thought of what he was doing. He's preserving them, but why did he have to do so already? They were so young.

Idia was on the last few games he needed to upload. He looked over at one of the first games you introduced him to, an emulation of Mario Kart Wii.

“Yeah it’s pretty old but it’s pretty nostalgic to me. I used to play it with my family all the time! It’s one of my favorites! I managed to move all my ghost data onto here too! Still, hold the record!” You beamed proudly as you showed the two brothers. “Ah, you appreciate oldies too huh?” Yuu nods. “If only I downloaded more before I came here. I think you would have loved some of the classic games we had.”

Idia loaded up the game with you, hooking up your device to the big screen in his room so you could all play. Ortho grabbed his favorite controller, and you all chose your characters to race as. Sure, you had the home-field advantage, but he’s played tons of racing games before! He has this in the bag.

The pair never stood a chance. With every map, you seemed to know a perfect shortcut, a perfect glitch, a perfect setup to always come out in first place. Even when the two said you had to play fair and you complied, you still easily beat them both while humming the music under your breath. Yet despite the frustration, it was still fun, especially since you included Ortho in everything as well.

Idia loaded up the game again, for old time's sake. He didn’t put much thought into the map or character he chose, he was too busy imagining that day you all were together, laughing and exchanging the things you loved. Rainbow Road was loaded up, the hardest track in the game and your favorite one, he remembered how much you laughed at his misery when he played on it. A few extra carts appear in the track that weren't the bots he was playing against, they were translucent much like ghosts, and had names over each one.

One of them he recognized as yours. As he began, he saw the ghost carts glided across the road. It was then he realized that these were the previous top three records that were saved. Idia wasn’t thinking, as his competitive streak overtook him. In the very first round, he beat the one in third place, putting in his name ‘Gloomurai’. He played a few more times, each time optimizing his route and techniques to get faster with each run. He’d even watch your racer’s techniques so he could copy.

After what felt like hours, he finally beat your character's time, and mentally celebrated when the option to put in his name popped up. The small smile on his face suddenly faded for a moment as he thought back to what you said. “I used to play with my family all the time!” You said. “It’s one of my favorites!”

Idia’s hands shook. When you showed him this game, it was obvious you adored it. He even caught you playing it by yourself a lot. Those other names, were they your family? Your friends? The realization hit him. This wasn’t your favorite game just because of nostalgia, it was because you still play with your family.

All those other ghosts he beat, they drove the exact same route, the exact same way your loved ones did and he overwrote them, and now, he overwrote you on your favorite route. Not only did he get rid of you, but he got rid of the only trace you had of your old life. Panicking, Idia dove into the files of the game, looking through everything he could see if there was any way he could save your data, frantically scanning each line of code. He knew the answer in his head though, the minute that box popped up, it was deleted instantly.

Idia suddenly stopped, clenching his fists. He didn’t care that your ghost was probably on other tracks. That one was your favorite one. He got rid of you. He got rid of you on your favorite game. The sadness finally caught up to him, he was too exhausted to keep coding at this point.

“Idia?” Ortho called into his shared room with his brother. “Idia? Your heart rate is acting up on my scanner—“ Ortho creaked open the door to see his brother with his head in his hands, violently sobbing. “They’re gone.” He mutters. “They’re gone.” Ortho shut the door behind him, floating over to where his brother was, and pulls him down to hug him. “It's okay,” the boy soothes. “They still live in you.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #vil shoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper #angst #suicide tw #tw suicide #suicide

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 6: Escape

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, possessive!konig, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7

IMPORTANT NOTE: the taglist is getting too long for me to manage, so this will be the last post that I will have a taglist for. i appreciate all the support!!! just be sure to check my blog for future updates. if you aren't on the taglist but asked to be here, either i missed you or tumblr won't let me @ you also, we are nearing the end! I think this is gonna have 8 parts. thank you for your support!!!!

.......

series inspired by the art below!

konig's promise of taking you away at any moment you asked him weighed on you for weeks. the more you grew attached to him, the harder it was to hide your relations with him. you couldn't exactly go on proper dates in his cold, dark room in the castle basement. he couldn't take you on picnics, take you on carriage rides, or anything that any normal couple would do. you weren't a normal couple. you were a princess, and he an executioner. you two were never supposed to even speak with one another.

the one thing, the one romantic thing that you could do in his room, was dance with him. konig didn't know how to dance. he only knew the dance of an axe over the chopping block and how to sharpen its edges with stone. he was hesitant at first, but loved how close to you he could be. he was quite clumsy, and he'd frequently step on your toes every now and then. but each time he did it, you smiled.

"it's okay, konig. you'll get the hang of it," you'd say as you smiled up at him sweetly. he would quietly nod and furrow his brow in concentration as he danced with you.

his hand would be so gently laid on your waist, and his large hand on your shoulder grounded you and kept you in the moment. it didn't matter what mean thing your sisters had said to you, or the fact that you couldn't care less about your provincial duties. when you were with konig, when he was touching you, you were there, and that was all you knew.

but his hood always remained on. you asked him, once, if you could see his face, and all he answered with was a quiet "no" and you never broached the subject again.

...

"konig," you said to him after you two had danced and then made love. truly, made love. it was so soft, and he pressed so many kisses on your neck and boobs and back. konig always grew a little soft after you two danced.

"ja, liebe?" he asked as he gently stroked your hair.

"do...do you think we could...leave, soon?" you whispered as you gently balled up your fist.

his hand stopped in your hair for a moment, but he quickly resumed his gentle caresses. he breathed deeply. "it's as i said. say the word, and we go."

"i...i want to go soon, konig. i don't know where. just far from here."

"how soon?" he asked.

"next week," you said before he could even finish his question. this had been on your mind for so long. konig changed you, the night he asked what you would do if you weren't a princess. you'd been fantasizing about having your own cottage with him, being able to garden and tend to your animals everyday while he was a blacksmith, maybe, or a mercenary. the cathedral ceilings and polished dinner plates of your castle no longer appealed to you.

konig kept caressing your hair. "and how far?"

you gulped. "could we...leave the country? just go to a neighboring one. right near the border."

konig thought for a moment. "ja, we can. i know of a village just beyond the mountains. you will like it. i will build a house for you."

you smiled against his bare chest. "i'll build it with you, konig."

he shook his head gently as he squeezed you. "nein. i will build a house for you, by myself."

"if you insist," you said as you pressed a gentle kiss to his chest. "a house for us, konig. us."

konig was silent for a little while. you were growing worried, but he finally replied. "a house for us, meine Engel. i will build a house for us."

"i've already begun to stow away some of my savings," you whispered as if you feared the stone walls had ears. "we will be set for life."

"do not worry about that, Engel," konig said confidently. "i will take care of you."

"i know you will," you said gently. "but you'll be giving up your profession for me. i want to repay you in anyway that i can."

"there is no need for that," he said quietly as he held you closer. "you are worth more to me than all the riches in the world."

your heart fluttered as you closed your eyes and relaxed against him. your cheeks grew warm and you smiled.

"i love you, konig," you whispered as if it were the most normal thing in the world to say. once you processed what you just said, your eyes shot open, but your face stayed glued to his chest so that he couldn't see. you held your breath.

"and I love you, meine schatz," he said as he gently pressed a kiss to your head through his hood. you looked up at him with gleaming eyes, and he lifted his hood up slightly to kiss you.

you made love again that night. the words that had lingered in silence for so long had finally been spoken. he put you in missionary, focused entirely on your face as he filled you so gently yet so fully. his hard, smooth cock dragged slowly along your slick walls, and you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you.

"i will do anything for you, Engel," he rasped into your ear as he filled you. "i will take care of you."

"konig!" you moaned. you looked up at him, cock-drunk and in love. "i'm yours. i'm yours." a few tears escaped your eyes.

you kissed him again, and your fate with him was sealed.

...

a few days had passed since that night. the day you and konig were planning to run away was quickly approaching. you had packed a few things in a spare backpack, including the trinkets he gave you through the course of your relationship. you hid the gold entitled to you interspersed through socks and underwear in your backpack. you looked out the window of your bedroom out over the castle grounds, and felt resolved. you were ready to leave this life behind, and just be. with konig.

you got dressed in your room as normal, and made your way down to the banquet hall for breakfast. but when you reached the banquet hall, you found three of your sisters shouting to your parents. your other sisters sat as still as statues at the dining table. all heads turned towards you as you stepped in.

"what's going on?" you asked nervously.

"you harlot!" one of your sisters exclaimed. your mother and father looked like they had seen a ghost. you looked around, and the room was spinning.

"you've been sleeping with the executioner!" another sister yelled as she held up a black executioner's hood. that was one of konig's gifts to you, and you thought it would be kept it safe in your bedside table.

"you went in my room!?" you yelled.

"guards! get the executioner at once!" your father yelled. time began to move slowly. your sisters were screaming, the guards' metal armor clinked and clacked as they ran down to search for the executioner, your mother hugged you tightly in fear. but all you could think, the one thing that managed to keep you grounded in the ensuing chaos, was konig.

you thrashed out of your mother's embrace and ran faster than you ever had in your life to find him. the guards could run, but not as fast as you in their armor. you ran to the only place he would be at this time in the morning.

you burst through the castle doors and ran, panting, up to konig, who was sharpening his axe in the blacksmith's hut. he looked up at you happily at first, but his expression changed when he saw the tears flowing from your eyes.

"konig! konig! they know! they know!" you yelled as you panted. konig looked over you and saw half a dozen guards running towards him with swords drawn.

you looked up at him, your eyes wet and puffy, your dress wrinkled and heels broken.

"come," he said as he picked you up in one motion. you yelped, but held onto him as he ran towards the stables. the alarm bell was ringing in the castle as all guards now saw the executioner running off carrying a princess towards the only escape. your siblings and parents watched from the great porch with horrified expressions.

"i'm so sorry konig," you cried into his shoulder as he ran.

"shh, shh," he soothed between breaths. "i told you i would take care of you, didn't i?"

you nodded and gently squeezed him. you finally reached the stables, which had been unattended momentarily during the chase, and konig threw you on top of the biggest horse before putting on its bridle and getting on in front of you. there was no time to put on a saddle.

"hold on, Engel!" he yelled before smacking the reins against the horse's neck. you held onto his hard, tree-like torso as he kicked the horse with his heels, and it shot off through the stables. the guards that had made it to the stable doors were swept back as your horse sprinted through.

you looked behind and saw that there were now three mounted guards following you. "konig!"

he spurred the horse on faster, but the main castle grounds gate was already closed. "hold on, this will be bumpy!" konig yelled. he sharply turned the horse around and you flew over the castle grounds as he guided the horse towards the hidden exit behind the grounds, past the gardens. the guards' horses were fast, but no match for the bestial horse konig had chosen.

you buried your face in his back as the wind whipped by you and the ground rolled under your feet like waves. the alarm bells sounded louder over the grounds as panic rose, echoing against the stone walls of the castle, and screaming could be heard from servants out in the fields as you passed.

your horse jumped over the hedge at the edge of the grounds, the guards far behind, and you fled with konig through uncharted wilderness with nothing but the clothes on your backs.

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome, @plumdreadful, @dumb-dumb-idiot-girl, @elichisstuff, @konig-breedme, @tr4psta, @cutiecusp, @konigsleftkidney, @local-vampire-s1ut, @ihaveaproblematicbrain, @twice360noscope, @madzeesstuff, @crazy-phan-girl13, @babygirl-panda19, @warrior-of-justice, @eluffi, @mooniesthings, @elowynnlane, @zaxlrza, @red-bed-bug, @alexdoesntlikeyou, @helmipss, @11aplacesange11, @rouge-swears, @pasta-m1lk, @ghostinvenus

#konig fic #konig #konig imagine #konig smut #konig call of duty #call of duty mw2 #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #cod mw2 #konig modern warfare #cod konig #konig headcanons #konig x you #konig fluff #konig x oc #modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mwii #cod fanfic #könig cod #cod x reader #mw2 #deaths angel #lycheedr3ams #codmw2 #konig fanfiction