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nickfowlerrr · 7 months

Note

Ohhh bonfire night with Bucky Barnes 🥹

it's easy to be loved.

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: fluff fluff and some more fluff. & like the tiniest little bit of angst if you really, really squint.

words: 2.9k

notes: ahh this is so cute!! thank you for sending it in! 🥰

comments and reblogs are always welcome and so appreciated! let me know what you think. 🖤

"Where are you taking me, Barnes?" you question as Bucky leads you further into the woods, his hand holding yours tightly.

"I said it's a surprise, you can't wait another minute?" he lightly chastises.

You had just gotten done at the pumpkin patch, Bucky's car loaded with your haul of pumpkins, an assortment of sweets from the farm's bakery, and a good three pounds of some of the best fudge you have ever had in your life. You were already thinking about how you wanted to carve your pumpkin when you got home but were pulled from your brainstorming when Bucky pulled off the road, instead following a single, one-way road down into the wooded area that surrounded you.

You looked over at him quizzically and he turned to you for a second with a light laugh and that ever-disarming smile, though you didn't miss the twinkle of excitement that was shining in his gaze.

When he finally pulled up to a clearing with a little gated pathway just to the side, he parked and turned the car off, quickly getting out and gallantly coming to the passenger door to open it for you before you could even try.

"Okay seriously," you looked at him pointedly, "did you bring me out here to murder me? Was this past year just one long con to get my guard down enough to lure me out into the middle of nowhere?"

You narrowed your eyes at the laugh Bucky let out at your words as you got out of the car, standing before him as he stayed where he was, one hand on the car door, the other on the side of the car, keeping you right where you were. "First of all, sweetheart, we're not in the middle of nowhere. And secondly, you think I would've bought that much fudge if I was planning on killing you tonight?" he joked.

"Hm. Okay, fair point," you allowed with a quirk of your lip, your fingers finding the belt loops of his jeans, tugging him closer. You tilted your chin at him, an expectant pout playing on your lips when he didn't move, only a smirk on his lips as he looked at you. You tugged again and he relented, moving in to kiss you softly.

"Mm," he hummed against you, "you taste like chocolate."

You smiled into the kiss, pulling away only for a second to speak. "That fudge. It's so good," you murmured before kissing him again, your lips moving more firmly against his, your fingers tugging him closer once more.

Bucky groaned as he moved to press you against the car, sharing your desire for more, deepening the kiss, his lips hot against yours.

And then all too quickly he forced himself to pull away from you, biting his own lip as he took a grounding breath, shaking his head at you. "No," he huffed, "you can't distract me right now, doll. I didn't bring you out here just for some nookie."

You breathed a laugh, "God, I love it when you talk like an old man," you teased with a smirk.

He fixed you with that signature glare of his before he moved to grab something from the backseat. You watched with renewed interest, still wondering what exactly it was you were doing out here.

Bucky shouldered a large bag on his left side and held a full duffle in his right hand before he shut the door and turned to you, smiling again. He looked like a kid going on his first camping trip.

At the thought, your face fell, eyes going a little wide.

No, you told yourself, he wouldn't... Or would he?

As if he could read your thoughts, he spoke and put your mind at ease as he approached the small gate just across from where you were, signaling you to follow him. "We're not camping, don't worry."

"What are we doing then?"

"You'll see, just trust me."

"Hmph," you puffed as you trailed behind him.

You watched him for a long moment, admiring him among the beauty of the wooded trail. Smiling to yourself, you grabbed your phone from your pocket, making sure your sound was off before you took a photo of him.

Bucky wasn't the biggest fan of being on camera, but he always humored you, smiling when you asked him oh so nicely and even giving you his okay to post a candid to your Instagram every now and then.

This one, though, like many of the other shots you've taken of him this past year, would stay in your favorite album. Just for you, until December came around. You couldn't wait to finally put together the physical photo album you've been planning. It'd be the closest you'd get to showing Bucky how you see him through your eyes. The charming and protective, strong and cuddly, sweet and caring, loving, doting, brilliant man he is.

You wish he could see himself the way you see him, for who he truly is, without the darkness that can so easily cloud his outlook on himself.

He's been doing much better, therapy and healing work making a noticeable difference. But every now again, he gets that look in his eye. He tries to hide it when it rears its head, but you never let it go unnoticed. You never want him to feel alone in that. Not ever again.

You're not paying attention to your path, your eyes are drifting as you think, and you end up walking right into the brick wall that is Bucky's back, barely dodging the backpack slung on his shoulder.

"Shit," you laugh, resting your head against him and wrapping your arms around his front, "sorry."

"What the hell are you doin' back there?" he asks, turning and being careful not to hit you with the bag.

You shrug, "Can't beat the view," you say with a playful smack to his ass as you lean into him.

"Would you stop trying to get into my pants for five seconds," he laughs, switching the duffle from his right hand to his left and then grabbing yours to hold instead, tugging to his side. You squeeze his hand lightly with both of yours and let your body bump into his, your head against him as you walk side by side. You feel it when he presses a kiss to your head and it sends a fluttering to your tummy as you bite on your contented smile. "We're almost there," he says with a soft squeeze to your hand in return. You straighten up as you continue walking but stay close to Bucky's side.

Within a minute, Bucky is pulling you from the main path onto a peculiarly stoned one that branched off from it. From there, it was a short walk to the large, modern, yet rustic looking cabin he had been leading you to.

You stare in awe at the impressive building as Bucky smiles at you.

"You like it?" he asks, still grinning.

"It," you breathe a stunned laugh, "it's gorgeous. How did you find this place? Whose is it?"

"Didn't really find it... Built it," he says a little too casually for the pride you see in his eyes as your own widen.

"What? You- you built this?"

"Well, I mean, not entirely me. Sam and Steve helped out a bit here and there."

"This is incredible, Buck," you shake your head with a smile. "How long have you been working on it?"

"Took a few months,"

"Wait, is this the job you've been talking about?" you ask.

"I wanted to surprise you," he laughs, tugging you close as you both look on at the cabin.

"Color me surprised," you say as you hug onto him. "This is amazing. You are amazing. Whoever gets their hands on this place is gonna be so damn lucky."

"I'm glad you think so..." he trails off, the corner of his lip threatening to curl into a half smirk.

It takes you a second to pick up on what he's getting at, but you finally do.

"You own this?" you ask in near disbelief.

"It's not entirely furnished yet, but I couldn't keep this to myself any longer. I can show you inside later, but right now, I have a little something else planned," he leads you by the hand to walk past the side of the cabin, coming around to a fenced backyard as you take it all in.

Along the back wall is some kind of screen mounted, in front of it is what looks to be a bonfire pit, huge wooden chairs placed around it and an outdoor table off to the side, too.

You're still silent as you take in the sight, Bucky unlocks the fence door and lets you through. You turn back to him, and he is nothing but smiles as he ushers you closer to the setup.

“Wow,” you awe.

"I know it's not the same as that drive in you were talking about, but-"

"No, I-" you turn back to him, "I love this," you breathe with a laugh.

"Good," he says, leaning closer to kiss you softly. "Pick a seat, I'm gonna get this set up."

You listen, choosing the chair at the head of the pit, right across from the screen.

Bucky moves the table around behind you, and you watch in quiet amusement as he arranges all of the items he's brought in his bags on the table.

First, he sets up the wireless projector, the once white screen now dark as he pauses the movie on the very first few seconds. He then sets out a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and a package of full-size Hershey bars; your smile grows at the sight, as a fuzzy warmth fills your chest. That feeling you’ll never tire of, the feeling you’ve only ever experienced with Bucky.

He turns and heads to the fire pit, already loaded with logs. He quickly gets it lit and dusts off his hands before striding over to you.

You're gazing up at him from your seat as he stands before you, "All this for me?" you ask, your voice much softer than you thought it'd be.

"All this for you," he responds just as softly, taking your hand in his and pulling you to stand, guiding you to the table.

Soon, you're wrapped up in a blanket as you and Bucky roast your marshmallows on sticks, your chairs pulled as close as they can be while your favorite halloween movie plays on the screen. It's a bit darker out now, the sun nearly set and leaving the remnants of a gorgeous autumn hue as the wind blows lightly around you. The first few stars to be seen are already shining brightly in the sky. Bucky has turned the light backyard lights on, the strings of small bulbs hung around you adding to the cozy outdoor atmosphere as the glow from the fire burns brightly before you. The smell of the smoke mixing with the sweetness in the air. You're both leaning toward the fire as you let the flames brown your sugary treats, a pack of graham crackers sitting on the arm of your chair and an open bar of chocolate sitting on Bucky's.

"Shit," he curses as he pulls his stick from the fire - his marshmallow fully ablaze while you laugh at him frantically shaking his stick about.

"Smooth," you comment as you ready your s'more, smooshing your marshmallow from the stick onto the chocolate between the crackers.

You turn more towards him as you take a bite, reveling in the gooey sweetness. He's looking at you with bright eyes, his smile nothing short of pure admiration.

You lick your lip, feeling some of the stickiness there.

"You missed some," he hums as he sets his stick down, his burnt marshmallow not so much a thought as he turns more towards you in turn. You watch him intently as he brings his thumb to the corner of your lip, wiping at the bit of chocolate that was left behind.

A shiver rolls over you at the soft touch and you lean into him further. His lips tick in a smile as he copies you, his hand holding your cheek while he leans in. Your breath almost hitches as he is about to kiss you, but you're left stunned, brows furrowing when his lips meet his thumb instead, sucking off the chocolate that sits there.

"That's not nice," you murmur as you turn your face, watching entranced by his sultry display. You place your hand over his, still holding you gently.

He smirks at your complaint but doesn't say anything as you brush your nose against his, taking matters into your own hands.

You press your lips to his, your other hand wrapping around the back of his neck, almost leaving your seat as you scoot forward - wanting to be closer to him as you deepen the kiss, but getting stopped by the barrier that is the chairs.

Your hand leaves his and moves to hold his face instead. You don't break the kiss until you're out of air, pulling back as Bucky chases your lips. You titter, letting your forehead press to his as he whispers hotly, "You always taste so sweet."

"It's the s'mores," you smile.

"No," he mutters, kissing your lips tenderly once, "that's all you, sweetheart."

The credit song catches your attention as you stay where you are, both you and Bucky teetering on your seats for a moment.

"This has been really nice, Bucky, seriously, I loved it. Thank you."

"I'm glad you liked it. I wanted to have the first night spent out here be just us, because this is the first of many nights to come. Sam's already planning a bonfire for next weekend with everyone," he rolls his eyes.

"Ever the gracious host you are," you kid, following Bucky up as he stands. "Are you gonna have the interior done by then?"

"Well, that depends."

"Oh? On what?"

"On whether you agree to help me decorate the place or not,"

"Bucky," you laugh, "I helped you decorate your apartment, now you want me to help decorate your cabin? If you're not careful, you're never gonna be able to get rid of me," you say as you help him pack everything back up, "You're gonna see me everywhere. From the bath towels to each and every throw pillow I'll force you to buy."

You're smiling as you close the box of graham crackers, facing the table as you work. Suddenly, Bucky's arms snake around you, his head coming to rest in the crook of your neck as he breathes you in.

"That's kinda the whole point, doll."

You close your eyes enjoying the warmth he offers and the way his stubble tickles your skin as he nuzzles into you.

"I don't ever want you to leave," he confesses against your skin, a part of him hoping you didn't hear the desperation in his voice and another part wanting him to just get down on his knee and pull out the box that's been burning a hole in his pocket for the past week. To finally ask you the question he knew he'd end up asking the day he met you.

But he won't. He's waited this long, he can wait a few more days.

Your anniversary isn't far off. He can wait, he tells himself.

You turn into him as he keeps his touch around you, "I'm not going anywhere," you assure him, resting your hands on his chest, your eyes gleaming with love and sincerity. You mean what you say, you're not going anywhere. Not unless he's planning on going with you.

“I’m gonna put out the fire, then we’ll head home, okay?”

“Okay,” you simper, letting your fingers graze along his chest as he pulls away from you.

“Bucky,” you say his name, so lovingly he swear he could melt right then and there, and he turns back to meet your eye, your soft gaze full of adoration, “I love you.”

It’s a simple statement, one he’s heard pass your lips many times, but one he knows he’ll never tire of hearing.

He smiles at you, one of the few people who can so easily get a genuine one out of him. As he gazes back at you, he can’t believe, that by some miracle, he found you in this life. Can’t believe that you allow him to be in yours, that you want him to be in yours, and really can’t believe how easy it is to let himself be loved by you.

After everything he’s been through, he fought with himself for the longest time. He wasn’t sure he’d feel worthy of being loved ever again. Wasn’t sure he’d find someone who would even want to, someone who could love him.

And then he met you. And you make it seem like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

He feels it when you so much as look at him, every little touch from you, every kiss, every laugh. He knows he's never felt less worthy of anything in his life, but he also knows you never want him to feel anything less than worthy. He's still working on it, and he'll get there...someday.

But for now, he's going to keep thanking his lucky stars for leading him to you.

"I love you more," he returns as your smile grows at his words.

And he means it. He loves you more than he could ever say, more than you could ever know, more than he ever thought was possible to love someone.

There's a twinkle in your eyes and his fingers twitch, wanting to reach for his pocket again before he thinks better of it.

Just a few more days...

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x curvy!reader #asks #bucky barnes fluff #boyfriend!bucky #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes oneshot

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zombiefiilm · 4 months

Text

It’s Cold Out Here

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

summary: spencer reid has just the plan to keep you warm in the car while you wait for a suspect

warnings: some mentioned with the unsub, classic cm type violence mentioned, no use of y/n, nsfw - 18+ only, making out, car sex(ish?), fingering, handjob, male oral, getting interrupted

word count: 2.1k

When you agreed to wait outside the suspected unsub's house with Spencer Reid, you did not expect it to turn into a several-hour stakeout.

You had pulled up just around the corner from the old house that looked like it was rotting from the inside out, with a perfect view of the front porch from where your black car sat, expecting the man who lived inside to leave the house to find his next victim and allow you to follow him.

His victims were all over the place, young and old, men and women, various financial status'. It just hadn't made any sense from the start and there was barely any bones to the profile at all, the only thing you all knew was that he was a man, likely between the ages of 30 and 45, who had a comprehensive knowledge of the human body and that he was somehow able to take his victims from public places in broad daylight. There didn't seem to be any sexual behaviour in these killings, the unsub killing each victim with a single gunshot to the head and cleanly taking out a different organ from each victim.

The only reason you even had a suspect in the first place was two witnesses stating that they had seen a blue Volvo Sedan that seemed to have driven off in a hurry from the locations the victims were being taken from at a similar time. Thankfully, one of the witness statements had included a partial plate, which Garcia was easily able to track down.

Prentiss and Reid had knocked on the front door earlier in the day, hoping to talk to the unsub with the premiss of him being a witness, but to no avail, the door never opened and with every curtain drawn, they had no visual of inside the home either.

Eventually, the plan had become to wait out the unsub, to follow him and pounce once there was any sign of suspicious behaviour, but it was taking significantly longer than expected.

Since the BAU had landed in Missouri, the unsub hadn't made a single move. While it was fortunate that there had been no more victims, it made it quite hard for you to get closer to finding out who he was. Through his patterns though, you were hoping that tonight would be the time for him to find his next victim.

You had gotten to your spot at around 4pm, Spencer driving and you in the passenger seat, and the blue car was still parked in the driveway. You set yourself up, expecting to be waiting for 4 or 5 hours maximum, but as the clock hit 11pm, alongside the command of staying at your 'stakeout' spot until someone walked out of that front door, you knew you were going to be in for the long haul.

Armed with a box of ritz crackers and beef jerky, you both indulged in the most depressing meal you had in a while.

"One of us should try get some sleep and the other can stay awake and watch, just so we're not both out of our minds tired tomorrow" you told Spencer, wrapping your jacket tightly around yourself, attempting to battle the cold air in the car.

"You can sleep first, I want to read through the files again, see if we've missed anything" he brushed a stray hair out of his face as he reached around to the back seat and grabbed one of the thick folders.

"Alright" you replied, tilting your seat back as far as it could go and wrapping your arms around yourself. "Wake me up in an hour".

"Got it"

"Night Reid" you closed your eyes, desperate to get some rest.

"Night".

You weren't sure how long you had been asleep, but you woke yourself up with your own shivering. The car had somehow gotten even colder in the time you were out. You groggily rubbed your eyes, turning around to see Reid engrossed by what he was reading.

"How long was I asleep?" you sat up, still shivering.

Spencer looked over at you, and then down at his watch. "About two hours".

"I told you to wake me up" you hit his shoulder, "you need to sleep too".

"I'm fine, plus you've been complaining about not sleeping well since we got here, you needed it"

You smiled at him, a little giddy over the fact that he was showing how much he cared about you.

You sat up fully now, taking another folder from the back of the car and opening it up. You knew you wouldn't be able to get back to sleep and there was no point in trying.

As time passed, you hadn't even noticed that your teeth had started clattering with the cold.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, putting down the papers in front of him. "You've been shivering for a while".

"Yeah, just really cold" you answered simply, glancing up at the house again to see nothing had changed.

"You can have my jacket" he quickly shrugged it off "I run hot".

"Are you sure? I don't want you to be cold either"

Without answering, he just leant over the centre console, and wrapped his jacket around your shoulders but stopped when his face was right in front of yours.

It felt like an eternity where you both looked into each other's eyes without a single word. Right as he went to sit back in his seat though, you grabbed his arm to stop him. You weren't even sure what your plan was but you just knew you wanted him to stay that close.

Neither of you were unfamiliar with looking at each other like that. with longing looks across the office and always sitting across from each other on the jet, it was quite clear to everyone on the team that you both felt like more that coworkers.

"I do know another way to warm you up" he gave you a bashful smile, looking anywhere but your face.

"And what's that?" you whispered, the words almost getting stuck in your throat.

He briefly looked into your eyes, and then down to your lips. You took that as your sign to lean in, gently pressing your lips to his. He almost seemed taken aback, but he quickly kissed you back, opening his mouth and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss was gentle, warming, as his hand slowly trailed from your knee up to your inner thigh. You wouldn't have expected him to be this forward, but before you knew it, his large hand was resting right over your heat, through your jeans.

He broke away from the kiss, both of you panting lightly "Is this okay?" his question was genuine as he waited for your okay before doing anything.

"Yes Spencer, please, please touch me" you hadn't expected yourself to be so desperate but the thought of his slender hands down your pants had you squirming in your seat.

The smirk that planted on his face at your desperation would be stuck in your head forever. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and helped you tug them down to your mid thigh, quickly followed by your underwear.

The moment he saw your cunt, he practically moaned to himself, making quick moves to touch you. His fingers slowly gathered up the slick from your slit before his finger gently caught on your clit, making you jolt.

"God, you're so wet already" he whispered to himself, lifting his finger up to the light to get a good look at your juice on him. He moved his hand back down again, this time gently circling your clit.

His movements had you falling into him already, long forgetting about the freezing temperature of the car, your head resting on his shoulder as his finger travelled down to your hole.

He slowly slid his finger inside and you gasped quietly, the way you were already clenching around the single digit had Spencer rutting into the console he was leaning over.

Pumping in and out of you, he quickly added a second finger. You couldn't help but moan in his ear, your attempts to keep quiet waning as he began to curl his fingers, hitting your g-spot right on.

"H- holy shit Spence" you whined, as his fingers perfectly moved against your spongey walls. With your verbal reassurance spurring him on to please you more, he began to circle your clit with his thumb, in time with his quickening thrusts of his fingers.

All of his moves seemed thought out and calculated, like he was studying every single one of your reactions. He pressed his lips against yours once again, his tongue licking into your slack mouth in time with the movements of his hands.

It only took a few minutes before you were a mess, gentle whimpers slipping from your lips, your hips desperately jerking against his hand, desperate for your release, your hands gripping onto his forearms for stability.

As soon as he added a third finger, you knew you were done for. You squirmed in his hold as his fingers sped up, the slick sounds of your cunt filling the humid car as the coil in your stomach tightened.

"God- Fuck Spence, please, I'm gonna"

"Go on, cum for me, please" he groaned, his thumb circled faster around your clit as he pressed his own hips harder against the car, desperate for some form of release.

It was as if your body obeyed his words, seeing white as the pressure in your stomach released.

Your hips jerked into his hand as you came down from the high, Spencer's fingers still pumping in and out of you to help you ride out your orgasm.

Once you finally came down, you feverishly kissed Spencer, desperate to taste him again. You whined into his mouth as he pulled his fingers out of you, quickly missing the feeling of being so full.

As you separated again, Spencer placed his fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself on his fingers. Once you licked his fingers clean, he pulled his hand back and kissed you again.

"God, you taste so good" he muttered, sloppily kissing you. It was then you noticed his shifting, desperate for stimulation on his cock.

"Let me help you now" you pushed him back into his seat, palming the crotch of his trousers.

He looked up at the door of your potential unsub, ensuring that he was still inside the house before giving you a nod. You desperately unzipped his trousers, pulling them down just far enough for you to pull out his cock.

You quickly pulled his erection out of his boxers, practically drooling at the sight. God.

The tip was red, precum smeared all over his tip, and it was big in every way.

You eagerly wrapped your hand around him, allowing a glob of your saliva to fall onto his tip before you pumped your hand up and down in small movements. You periodically swiped your thumb over his tip, spreading the pearly white liquid around.

Spencer was gripping onto the car door at your movements, his knuckles white as he desperately attempted to stop himself from bucking his hips into your hands.

Then, you decided you desperately needed to taste him. You leaned down, gently taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

Spencer, in that moment, thought he had died and gone to heaven. He couldn't stop the moans from spilling out from his mouth.

Then, you took pushed your head down as far as you could, tickling the back of your throat as the hair at the base of his cock just-about brushed against your nose. Spencer was on the verge of biting through the skin of his lips to stop himself from fucking your face.

You moved your head back up before taking him entirely in your mouth again, but then Spencer tapped your shoulder and began to lift you off of him.

"The door, the door" his words stopped you in your tracks as he rubbed some of the condensation off of the windscreen in front of him. You got off of him, straightening yourself up in your own seat and pulling up your pants as he tucked himself back into his own trousers.

"I'll get you back" you half whispered as he started the car "later".

You could see him blush lightly as he started to follow behind the unsub. Maybe getting stuck in a car with Reid for 10 hours wasn't such a bad thing.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x you smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencerreid #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fluff

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

the heist team | the threesome series ; skz ; minho/reader/changbin

masterlist.

threesome series part 2/4.

pairing: lee minho/reader/seo changbin content info: sexual content. threesome. friends2lovers. very cheesy criminal heist shenanigans (very "we're in" style hacking and some laser grids lol). "fake" kissing, getting sexy as a distraction, giving sex directions, sexual tension that gets resolved. pussy eating, dick sucking, coming inside. purple haired minho bc meow <3

The camper van was the best idea you ever had. It is much easier to enact dastardly schemes while inconspicuously hiding in plain sight.

On the outside, the van looks like any civilian camper, but the inside is a veritable den of high-tech con-artistry. It has a place for Minho to hang the get-ups for his grifting gambits, a compartment for Changbin to store his weapons and down-time dumbbells, and it has the sexiest, sleekest, most mouth-watering computer apparatus that has ever existed. You love it more than anything in this world.

Every job, you sit in the midst of your beloved computer screens, directing the operation while your boys do the ground work. Despite knowing of your undying love for this system, your best friends and partners-in-crime are presently trying to separate you from your baby.

“Is she calling the computer her baby again?” Minho asks from where he is getting dressed behind a curtain.

“Yes,” Changbin says. He is sitting in your computer chair with his arms distractingly crossed, his biceps bulging in his tight black shirt. He is wearing a lot of lycra, having formerly anticipated he would be doing physical work tonight.

That all changed when you realized the nature of tonight’s job.

You only ever target the obscenely rich, the kind of wealth that is obtained through its own nature of theft and villainy. Tonight’s targets are a bunch of pompous elites celebrating themselves. Upstairs is a gala kicking off a week-long set of dinners, auctions, and celebrations. Downstairs is millions of dollars worth of art and antiquities, set to go up for auction the following day.

It looked like a typical job, the kind where Minho could sweet-talk some fools while Changbin punched some security guards and you hacked the vault from the van. The security system around the haul turned out to be far more advanced. Operating with a form of artificial intelligence, it essentially learns as it goes, meaning hacking it from the outside is incredibly difficult as it will understand and respond to invasion. It will be easier to outsmart from the inside, where you can reach your hand into its virtual heart and pluck its digital ventricles one by one.

The boys do not have that kind of computer knowledge. So now Changbin is in your chair, Minho is doing his make-up, and you are waving around an emergency cocktail dress.

“Who’s gonna watch my baby if I’m in there!”

“Yah! Rude woman! You remember who helped you build this thing?” Changbin pats one of the computer towers to make his point. “I can do the basic work in here, but I can’t do your complicated nerd things.”

“I’m not a nerd!” You definitely are. You stare at the cocktail dress morosely. “You’re forgetting something super important. That I am a total weirdo and I panic whenever someone looks at me! There’s a reason I don’t do the people side of things! That’s what you guys are good at!”

“Technically I just hit them,” Changbin says.

“You are plenty charming when you want to be and you know it,” you say.

Changbin folds his hands behind his head, flexing all his muscles while grinning.

“How charming?” he teases, cocky. “Describe it to me.”

“Shut up.” You hit him with the cocktail dress to hide the fact he got you genuinely flustered. “I can’t go in there. People will know I don’t belong the second I walk in the room. We won’t even get close enough to the computer bank for me to disarm it because they’ll get one look at me and throw me out the window.”

“That won’t happen,” Minho says. His changing area is behind you and you hear the metallic slide of the curtain opening. “Because you won’t be going in there alone.”

You don’t even have to turn around to know Minho looks devastatingly gorgeous; it is written all over Changbin’s shocked face. His arms lower from behind his head and his cocksure expression shifts, his lips parting as he stares past you.

Despite having the benefit of bracing yourself, you are still struck dumb when you turn and look at Minho. It was always in the plan that Minho would serve as a distraction at the gala. To stand out accordingly, he dyed his hair with temporary dye this morning. The vibrant purple was more amusing than sexy when his hair was messy, but now it is neatly styled back, slick and off his handsome face. He is dressed all in white, his asymmetrical suit partially slit at the side to show some skin. There is an extra sparkle from his jewelry, plus the lightest dab of glitter in the sharper contours of his face. He is practically glowing.

He knows he looks good. His mouth quirks in a little smirk at your expressions. You and Changbin are both gawping at him, and it goes on long enough that his eyebrows lift and his smirk puckers with a surprised laugh.

“What? Really?” he asks, still laughing at you.

Changbin does an unexpected sign of the cross. You hit him with the cocktail dress again.

“Fine,” you say, mostly to have an excuse to duck behind the curtain because you think you might explode from lust and embarrassment and anxiety all at once. “At least no one will be looking at me.”

You step behind the curtain and snap it closed, leaving the boys to their banter.

You like dressing up so this part is no problem. The problem with parties is other people. You wholeheartedly admit you are better with zeroes and ones than human beings.

You try to focus on the fun elements of tonight: the dress, the glamour, and beating a high-tech security system at its own game. It will be so fun to have a real challenge for once. You know you can beat it but it will definitely push you more than your usual digital adversaries.

Also, you get to look at Minho looking like that. Your view of the boys is usually through security cameras, nestled in your van surrounded by your operating system, so the proximity will be a treat.

You open the curtain, scowling. You do not enjoy socializing so you seldom have occasion to dress up, so you anticipate the boys will lovingly berate you. But when you step forward, Changbin looks at you with the same dumbfounded expression he had for Minho. Minho is sitting on the bench, knees apart and arm slung across the backrest. His expression gets very serious when he looks at you. He shimmies his hips, his knees parting further.

“Turn around,” he says.

The van feels so tense and quiet that you obey, more confused than anything else.

Changbin’s gaze drops to your ass immediately, his jaw visibly clenching. Minho tips his head like he is studying something.

“Thank you,” Minho says.

You face them again, hot in the face. You cross your arms angrily.

“What was the point of that?” you demand.

Minho lifts a single eyebrow. “I wanted to see your ass,” he says, like it should be obvious. “It’s a good one. You should be proud.”

You throw your sweatpants at his stupid smirk. He catches it smoothly.

“Can we just go already?” You punctuate this with a stomp of your foot then storm out of your precious van.

It is very strange being on this side of the operation. You always have Minho and Changbin nattering in your earpiece, but usually you are sitting at your desk wearing proper headphones. It is strange wandering around with a tiny bud in your ear, listening to Changbin report from your usual seat.

You already have control of the hotel security cameras as they work on a separate operating system to the storeroom AI. You replaced the live feed with a looping reel of empty rooms so the security team inside will not see you moving around. It also gives Changbin a bird’s eye view of the gala and the rest of the hotel. You feel anxious at not seeing it for yourself, but you are placated when Changbin whistles and teases, “You two are the best looking there. You would be second best looking if I was there, so you’re lucky I’m not.”

You and Minho both smile, your expressions fond.

Minho gets you in the door with little more than a wink at the doorman. You stay quiet, hiding your nerves as best you can. Minho is a competent con-man and Changbin is plenty reliable so you try to focus on your own tasks. First you need to get to the ground floor network base so you can get the AI to chase your red herring. Once you are in, the AI will start responding, but with your virus acting as a decoy source within the building, you should be able to buy yourselves time to move onto the next phase of breaking down the system.

“There’s a lot of muscle at this party,” Changbin says seriously, no doubt taking stock of all the burly security guards. It is only natural Changbin would be as twitchy as you, also out of his element for the night. “I don’t like not being there with you,” he says.

“Easy,” Minho says in a calm voice. You think it is directed at both you and Changbin. He puts a hand on your lower back and gives you a knowing look. “You’re doing fine,” he says.

You feel like terror is written all over your face. It doesn’t help that Minho draws eyes the second you step into the hotel ballroom, men and women looking at him with the usual desire he draws. They are equally curious to look at you, their eyes on where his hand rests intimately low on your spine.

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say.

“Not a bad idea,” he says. He smiles with so much effortless charm that no one would suspect he is whispering criminal tips. “The best con,” he says, his lips brushing your ear, “is one that is close to the truth.” You shiver as his fingertips brush up your spine. He rests his hand on your nape. “Look sick,” he says. “We’ll say we’re looking for a restroom if someone asks.”

You follow his lead, weaving your way through the party. Looking sick is the easiest instruction to follow because you feel genuinely ill, your anxiety a toxic twist in your gut.

Only when you are wandering the empty hotel corridor do you feel at ease. You feel even more at ease when you find the ground floor network hub. Your first obstacle is a regular alarm code, twelve digits in length. It is obviously too long to guess so you physically unscrew the alarm box and start some manual fiddling. There is no way to fully disarm it without also setting it off, but that’s where your own AI gadget comes into play. You plug in your cypher scrambler and let it do its thing. It flickers through numbers, seeking the correct pattern, learning from its errors. You designed it yourself and though it is always accurate, it takes a while to pull the numbers. You and Minho are forced to hover in the hallway while it gradually reveals each piece of the code.

You are up to number seven out of twelve when Changbin inhales sharply.

“There’s a waiter walking in your direction,” he says. “It looks like he’s taking a shortcut to somewhere else, but you have less than two minutes until he’s on you.”

“What!” You start to panic immediately. “My decipher machine could take longer than that, what do we—”

“Relax, relax!” Changbin says at the same time Minho steps behind you and grasps your shoulders. He makes little shushing noises while massaging you, not that it does much to help.

“We’re good,” Minho says. “It’s just a waiter, not security.”

“I’m gonna get us killed,” you say.

“By a waiter?” Minho asks. He gives your shoulders another squeeze. “Is he going to beat us with a baguette? Hey, hey, relax.”

You are a vibrating bundle of nerves. Minho is not usually the type to dive into a hug but he turns you around and pulls you into his arms. You wrap your arms around his middle and hug him back, hiding your face in his neck.

“Yeah, that will work,” Changbin says.

“Huh?” you say, lifting your head.

Minho is staring into a security camera as if having a mute exchange with Changbin. He nods in agreement, though you still don’t understand.

“What will work?” you ask.

“Distraction,” Minho says. You just look at him with confusion.

“Baby,” Changbin says in a soft tone, “listen to my voice.”

The sudden gentleness of his voice makes you shiver. Your fingers are shaking when Minho takes your hand and rests it over his heart. You look up into his dark eyes as he smiles at you with familiar fondness. You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, shushing you gently. His eyes drift to the side in anticipation of an intruder.

“Baby,” Changbin says, his honeyed tone softening your nerves, “Minho is going to kiss you. Just do what I say, okay?”

Your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening.

“You trust us?” Changbin asks.

You nod, answering Changbin, gazing at Minho.

It’s the truth. You might be scared but you have been scared before and your boys always come through. Even when the rest of the world left you behind, when you turned to crime to keep yourself alive, Minho and Changbin were there. They have never let you down. You trust them with anything and everything.

Minho slips his hand around your waist, pulling you close to him. You have been close before, sharing the van, sharing hotel rooms, but this feels different. He looks at you with intent, his handsome face so close, a strand of dark purple hair curled over his forehead. Your hand finds that patch of bare skin when you touch his side. He is familiar and foreign at once, your Minho, and also a character, one who clasps his hand behind your back and ducks down to gently kiss your lips.

“Take a breath, baby,” Changbin says with a little chuckle. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“Mmf,” is the noise you make, affirming that observation. It makes Minho laugh, a breath against your lips.

“Waiter is thirty seconds away. You just want to look like a dumb, horny couple that wandered away from the party,” Changbin says. “Listen to me, I’ll tell you what do.”

You nod, sucking in a breath when Minho kisses you again. This time his mouth is a little more insistent, his lips coaxing yours open.

“Close your eyes, baby,” Changbin says. “Let your shoulders drop. Minho has you, it’s okay.”

You didn’t even realize how tense your shoulders were. You listen to Changbin, letting yourself go lax. Minho holds you, as promised, his arms sturdy around your waist as he kisses you deeply.

“Let Minho move you,” Changbin says. “He’s going to lean you against the wall to hide the device, okay? Put your hands on his shoulders. Higher, baby, go around his neck. Just like that. Let him lead you.”

Minho walks you backwards, carefully pressing you against the wall, hiding the dangling cypher scrambler with your bodies.

“We wanna give our intruder a little jump scare, okay?” Changbin says. “Minho.”

That is all the direction he gives Minho, trusting the adept con-man to know exactly what to do. Minho does, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull them flush against his. It arches your back. Your hands are hooked behind his neck and you squeak, your fingers instinctively sinking into his hair.

“God,” Changbin says. The sudden dark colour to his voice sends a spark of heat shooting through you. It clearly surprises Minho too, his lips parting with a caught breath. “You both look hot. Fuck.”

Changbin takes a steadying breath. You and Minho look at each other. You get to see his smirk for a split second, then his mouth is on yours and it is no longer gentle and questioning. It is a demand, hot and wanting, your lips opening with his guidance, your heart skipping beats when he licks in your mouth.

“Do it back,” Changbin says. “You want him to fuck you, baby. Make him believe it.”

You think the him is question is the waiter. Isn’t it? You don’t even know where the waiter is anymore, if he’s around the corner or watching. In the haziness of your kiss, it hardly seems to matter. You kiss Minho back with the same urgency, pulling him closer, whimpering when he bites your bottom lip.

“Fuck,” is the gentle whisper that Minho can’t fight. His brow is crinkled, his eyes closed. He kisses you again, his hands jumping up to gather yours. He laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the wall on either side of your head.

“Wrap your leg around his waist,” Changbin says. “Like that, that’s it, you’re okay.”

You lift one leg, shaky and unsure. Minho catches you under the knee and pulls it more certainly around him. He holds you there, his other hand grasping your throat very gently as he kisses and kisses and kisses you. Your hands are still splayed open by your head, thoughtlessly awaiting direction. Your fingers curl into your palm and you moan for real when Minho presses against you.

Minho is a good actor, but the hard shape in his pants is very real. When he grinds against you, so open and soft with your leg around his waist, it draws all those guttural sounds right out of you. Minho makes one back, swivelling his hips in a maddening grind against you. It is all too easy to imagine him fucking you like this, the effortless back-and-forth of his hips, your sweet sighs as he takes you, imagining Changbin there, his breath also stuttering.

You do not forget he is watching all this, especially when he lets another low laugh and asks, “She feel good?”

“Yes,” Minho answers without hesitation, breathing the word against your lips.

“Hold his face, baby,” Changbin says. “Kiss him like you mean it. Ask him to fuck you with it.”

You know what he means by that: to kiss Minho with fervency and heat. You do obey, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him deeply, but the fuzziness of desire mixed with Changbin’s words makes your brain go screwy with want. Not only does your kiss convey that desire, but words rush past your mouth, crashing into Minho’s lips in a breathless flurry.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please,” you say, your voice pitching up into a little whine as you rock against him. “Want you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you say, thinking of both of them at the same. You kiss Minho’s surprised, open mouth, your eyes closed, your voice loud in this hazy space as you say, “I’ve been thinking about it all night. Need it so bad. Please. Want you inside me. Want my mouth on you. Come in me. Come on me. Take me, please. I’m so hot and wet, it’ll feel so good, don’t you want to feel how wet I am? Don’t you want to fuck me too?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Changbin says, followed by a rush of even more inventive curses.

Minho settles on another simple, surprised, “Fuck.”��

Then someone is clearing their throat. Minho jumps, his hands clamping tighter around you, protective.

“Oh, right, this clown,” Changbin says. “I hate that he’s too far away too punch.”

You giggle in spite of yourself, which is good because you think you might simultaneously die of embarrassment. You drop your leg and Minho lets you go, pulling himself together faster than you.

You let him do his thing, sliding a hand through his hair and smirking at the waiter as he saunters over. He makes his little speech, something-something-something a moment alone with the missus, something-something sorry-sorry-sorry. He walks the waiter back around the corner, giving you a knowing glance over his shoulder.

Thank god your cypher scrambler has its act together, even if you are a mess. It takes you longer to right yourself than it does for the scrambler to finish its job. Your hands are shaking as you break into the hub, but muscle memory takes over when you have your mini-laptop open.

Minho joins you a minute later. Your entire body lights up like a firework when he steps close to you. Nothing in his expression conveys anything more than professionalism – his queries are about the job and the job alone – but there is an ache between your thighs that won’t subside. You know he feels the same way as you can see he is still hard despite how much he glares at the wall. He adjusts his pants several times while standing in that closet of a hub with you. You keep glancing at each other, your gazes heady, speaking volumes more than your polite conversation.

When you leave and he puts his hand on your lower back, you shiver. You think you might double over from the persistent thumping of your easily-distracted pussy.

Changbin lets out a long sigh and a nervous giggle. “Good work, team,” he says.

You have worked enough jobs that you manage to set aside your personal feelings for the time being. It is easy to lose yourself in your work, especially when you really have to fight the security system.

You get inside the storeroom. You know it is filled with more traps and alarms so you sit down beside the door and type away on your laptop. You nearly break a sweat with the intensity of your work.

“She’s hot when she’s doing her thing,” Changbin suddenly says.

You lift your head and catch Minho’s eye. He smiles at you. “I agree,” he says.

Your heart starts skipping beats again. You look down at your laptop, feeling uncharacteristically shy under his gaze.

“Don’t distract me,” you say, making both of them laugh a little. You glare at Minho but there is no real animosity behind it.

At least they both acquiesce, going silent while you work. You manage to disarm most of the storeroom. The best you can do for the remainder of traps is trigger their subsequent lighting rigs so you can see them all. A labyrinth of blue light brightens the dark entry room, revealing each laser trigger that blocks your path to the locked compartments.

You look up at Minho whose calculating gaze is already tracing each intricate beam.

“Got it?” Changbin asks.

Minho starts unbuttoning his suit. “Always,” he says, smirking.

Minho flips the blazer down his arms, revealing just a tight white crop top beneath it. His jacket, shoes, and jewelry form a pile beside you. Minho does a few quick stretches before confidently approaching the laser grid.

Before his criminal life, Minho was a dancer, and a good one. He draws the same graceful lines with his body now, making each manoeuvre look easy even though you know it is incredibly difficult.

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” Changbin says.

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip and watching Minho move. “Gotta agree.”

Minho slips over and under each laser, twisting and bending and sliding with ease. He pops up on the other side with a graceful twirl, throwing you a wink over his shoulder before flipping a switch on the control panel. It powers down the censors so you can scurry across the room to join him.

The compartment door unlocks with your final hacked access code, the door swinging open to reveal your loot. Changbin gives a successful holler into your earpiece, making you and Minho duck with his volume.

“I’ll bring the car around, baby,” Changbin says while you two roll your eyes but smile.

You pack your fold out bags with your selections. One key to success is never being overly greedy. You walk away with a substantial victory nonetheless.

You hurry out of the storeroom with your prize haul. Minho gets dressed again, though he doesn’t button up his jacket. He takes a second to catch his breath while you restore each alarm so nothing appears out of place. When you are ready to go, he takes your hand, smiling. You run hand-in-hand back down the corridor, making a few sharp turns until you find a staff exit. There is a small drop so Minho jumps down first then holds out his arms for you. Though you could make the jump easily, you still let yourself fall into his arms.

He holds you close as he puts you on your feet. You are riding the high of adrenaline and success, your heart soaring, which might be why you so easily surrender to desire. You kiss him, sudden and brief but tantalizing. He blinks back at you with surprise, his face scrunching with that astonished little laugh of his.

You smile at him. A line of sweat dots his hairline and you reach up, smoothing some messy strands of purple hair. The gentle caress changes the whole shape of his face, his eyes heavy-lidded, his breathing harder. You feel yourself change too, your heart pounding against his chest when he pulls you close.

You got greedy with that kiss and greediness has consequences. You are so distracted with each other that you don’t notice the security guards coming at you from the opposite direction.

“Hey!” one shouts. “What are you doing out here?”

You and Minho look over, then at each other. There is no time for conversation. You grab each other’s hands and start running, your bags of stolen goods bouncing on your shoulders.

“Hey!” the security guard shouts again. You can hear their heavy footsteps thundering after you, fast despite their muscle and bulk.

You turn the corner onto a backstreet just in time for the camper van to swing into view. The door slides open and Changbin jumps out. You pass each other, dropping hands so Changbin can dart between you.

Panting, you and Minho watch as Changbin effortlessly takes down the guards.

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” you say, giggling.

Minho laughs, nodding. “I agree,” he says.

Minho takes the steering wheel so you can apologize to your baby for abandoning her. Changbin jumps back in the van and the three of you drive away with another successful haul.

Later, back at the penthouse, Minho takes the longest shower in an effort to scrub the purple out of his hair. You are in your bedroom when he finally emerges. You can hear him and Changbin talking in the living room. By the sounds of it, the purple is still threaded in his dark brown hair, likely to last a few more days. You smile to yourself, listening to their playful back-and-forth as Changbin teases him and Minho snarkily retaliates.

It is tradition after a successful job to have a few drinks and relax. Contacting your fence and taking care of business can wait until tomorrow.

You can hear the usual music playing through the speakers, can hear the clink of bottles and glasses, can hear Changbin and Minho laughing and talking.

You look at your reflection in the mirror. Though you seldom have occasion to wear pretty luxuries, you have enough money at your disposal to treat yourself. You have been changing in and out of different lingerie sets since you got home. You think this one might be just right: a silky black set worn under a lacy black dress that falls to your thighs. It is suggestive but arguably casual. You could just be wearing it as pyjamas, right? Sure. Sure. Totally normal pyjamas for a totally normal night.

The best con is one that is close to the truth, Minho had said. Then he stuck his tongue in your mouth and you begged him to fuck you with Changbin’s help. Even you, who is terrible at reading and understanding people, know what truth was in that charade.

You take a deep breath and march to your bedroom door with determination. You throw it open so hard that it smashes into the wall, startling the boys in the other room. You ignore the crash and scurry into sight, avoiding eye contact.

“Hello,” you say.

There is a moment of prolonged silence then Changbin says, “Hi.”

You look up. They are both staring at you, both wide-eyed, both in sweatpants and t-shirts with their hair undone and fluffy. They look very casual and very surprised. Minho is clutching a beer bottle and Changbin is holding a bowl of popcorn. Both of them are frozen.

You smile a very awkward smile.

“Hello,” you say again. “I am… I am… dressed. For bed. My bed. For being in my bed, like this, as I am dressed right now. I am going to that bed, now, like this. You can… join me. If you want. If you don’t want, then, okay. Hello. And. Goodbye. Bye.”

You run back to your bedroom and slam the door closed.

Other than the soft music still swirling in the air, the penthouse is quiet. You cannot hear the boys, not a comment, not a sound, not a breath.

Then you hear the popcorn bowl hit the ground and a bottle smash. They shove and yell at each other as they stumble on the way to your bedroom. You are standing awkwardly in the middle of your room, hands folded in front of you, waiting as they crash into your bedroom door and curse at each other.

Changbin then very casually opens the door and they calmly walk inside.

“Hello,” you say.

“Hi,” Changbin replies.

You wish thoughts could be hacked like a computer. You cannot think of what to say or do next. You just stare at them and they stare back, although their gazes are considerably less nervous. Their stares are thirsty, drinking you in, looking from top to bottom and back again.

“Turn around,” Minho says, his gaze low.

You meet Changbin’s eye before obliging, slowly turning.

“Okay,” Minho says after a long moment, giving your heart plenty of time to go crazy in your chest. “Thank you.”

You turn back around, just as embarrassed as earlier but not angry at all. You cross your arms over your chest, flicking your gaze between them.

Minho reaches out and lightly punches Changbin on the arm. Changbin looks at him and Minho gives him a look, one you cannot decipher. You continue to stare at them.

Changbin nods at Minho then looks at you. He holds out his hand.

“Breathe, baby,” he says. “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

You laugh but nod, taking his hand. He wastes no time pulling you close, guiding your hand to his heart as Minho did earlier. He holds your hand there and waits until you make eye contact so he can wink at you.

“I know I am the best looking man you have ever seen in your life,” he says, making you laugh again, “but I’m me. You trust us?”

You look at him then at Minho. His dark hair is still tinted purple, his bare face open and soft as he meets your eye. You smile and look back at Changbin, nodding.

“Always,” you say.

“Good,” Changbin says.

He cups your face and you lean towards him, anticipating a kiss, but he gently turns your face aside. You don’t even have time to be confused before Minho is kissing you. He swiftly draws all those sweet sounds out of you, pulling you towards him. Changbin steps behind you, holding your hips and kissing his way up your neck to your ear.

“Baby,” Changbin says while Minho slows his kiss to something gentle but heated, his tongue swiping at yours. “Listen to my voice, okay?”

You nod, light-headed but eager.

“Good,” Changbin says. “Come sit in my lap. Over here.”

Changbin is strong enough to haul you around. You barely have to move, letting yourself go soft in his arms. He sits on the edge of the bed and puts you in his lap, spreading your legs over his thighs. You stare up at Minho, out of breath, your thighs twitching to close for pressure. Changbin slides a hand down, stroking your inner thigh and making you jump, his other hand tugging down your dress and immediately going for your breast.

Minho sweeps a hand through his hair, taking a breath before stepping up to you.

“Still want your mouth on him, baby?” Changbin asks, reminding you of all the things you whispered in that heated moment.

You nod, whimpering when Changbin slides his hands into your panties and touches you directly. He circles and circles the most sensitive cluster of nerves, grunting and pressing his lips to your neck.

“She’s so fucking wet,” Changbin says. He slips his hand out of your panties and abruptly grabs Minho by the hand, tugging him closer. Minho brings that hand to his mouth, licking your wetness off Changbin’s fingertips. “Touch him baby,” Changbin says. “You see how hard he is for you?”

You can see. You can feel Changbin too, hard under you. Their sweatpants do little to disguise it.

You do not hesitate obeying, tugging on the waistband of Minho’s sweats. Everything feels so dreamy and good, surrounded by touch. It all seems to happen quickly; suddenly Changbin’s hand is in your panties, Minho’s dick is in your mouth, and Minho’s hands are tugging the straps of your dress down. This ends with you drooling messily all over the end of his dick, sucking on the head and murmuring nonsense while Changbin makes you come on his fingers. Then Minho kneels in front of you both, your legs end up over his shoulders, and you find yourself hurtling towards another orgasm on his mouth.

You dress ends up somewhere, the panties too. The bra is barely on, the straps hanging down your arms. Changbin finally kisses you when you are on your back in the middle of the bed. He lays between your open legs, his fingers filling you up as you continue to gush all over his hand. You grab him, squeezing his biceps as he effortlessly moves that strong hand between your legs. Minho climbs up too, his shirt somewhere across the room. He grabs your hands and pulls them over your head, pinning them into the pillows before ducking down to kiss you. You come for a third time before either of them even fucks you.

Then they do. Minho first, with you under him, listening to every direction Changbin murmurs in your ear. You lift your legs around his waist when Changbin says, then touch yourself when Changbin asks, and shudder when Minho comes inside you like you earlier begged.

Then Minho is behind you, holding you, touching you, protective and familiar while Changbin fucks you. Changbin has a surprisingly filthy mouth, continuing to tell you how good you feel and how good you look. Minho is quiet but fully entranced by you, his hands constantly wandering. He slides one hand down and rubs you off while Changbin fucks you. Then he leans over your shoulder and kisses Changbin on the mouth, making Changbin finish too.

The music is still playing in the next room. The three of you lay there in various states of undress, you in the middle, sweaty and messy, the boys panting and gently stroking your arms and thighs.

“I love you guys,” you say. It is incredibly cliché to make a love confession after several mind-blowing orgasms, but you don’t care. You don’t need to play games or tell lies or be good at socializing, not with your boys. You can just be your nerdy self, confessing your feelings even while drifting into sleep.

You smile when you feel Minho kissing your cheek, Changbin giggling on your other side.

“It will have to be big,” Changbin says. “The biggest.”

“Hmm?” you ask, looking at him strangely.

“The diamond we steal to put on your finger,” Changbin says, holding up your hand and circling your ring finger. You laugh and try to pull your hand back but Minho catches it, nodding in accord.

“I agree,” Minho says. He kisses your temple. “I know how criminals work,” he adds. “You’re not getting stolen away from us.”

He and Changbin exchange an affectionate glance over you, nodding at each other, then they are each kissing a side of your face as you squirm and laugh. You swipe at Minho’s purple hair and kiss Changbin’s cheek, then nestle into their arms as they wrap around you, protective as always.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee minho smut #seo changbin smut #lee minho x reader #seo changbin x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #skz x reader

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sssilverstoned · 4 months

Text

memory lane ꩜ ln4

type: instagram/twitter au

A trip through time as everyone's favorite kids in love grew up.

lily said: back to back ahhhh! hopefully part three tomorrow. wanting to get this out asap bc I’ve been stewing over posting for so long! glad you all enjoy :)

also, i think I’ll be opening requests soon, but please feel free to inbox me anything you’d be interested in seeing <3

part 1

Liked by yourbestfriend, yourusername, and 32,619 others

landonorris Happy birthday y/n! #19

maxfewtrell Happy birthday y/n/n!

yourusername thank yaaaa maxy!

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Liked by yourbestfriend, maxfewtrell, and 93,679 others

yourusername Happy birthday Lando! Welcome to 19 :)

yourbestfriend Dawwww so cute

landonorris Thank you! Love you old lady

yourbestfriend it's only 8 months difference between you two????? yourusername he's so annoying landonorris hey. It's my birthday

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Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 300,991 others

landonorris y/n's sleeping through her 20th birthday so I'm here to post about it in case she misses it.

user1 long neck ass

user2 facts. but hbd y/n 💯

danielricciardo quite the angle here, how long is your arm?

yourbestfriend Slaying while sleeping, love her

yourusername I try

yourusername: So this is how we're doing 20?

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Liked by kaiagerber, romeobeckham, and 688,142 others

user1 BAHAHAHA is this payback from your birthday??

user2 omg they're so aggravating 😭 favs fr user3 posting this with absolutely no caption on his bday is so funny

yourbestfriend the biggest little shit to ever walk the earth

landonorris aw thanks for the birthday wish x

landonorris: Love you too baby

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Liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo, and 411,997 others

landonorris Happy 21 my love! Wait for me so we can club together in NYC finally like we always said #cradlerobber

user1 CRADLE ROBBER

yourusername The club awaits!

carlossainz55 happy birthday y/n/n!

yourusername thank you carlosssssss! landonorris too many s's for my liking

yourbestfriend wait is this in my house??

yourusername nothings broken. trust

user2 this photo is so chaotic

user3 him constantly calling her old like SIR

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Liked by kendalljenner, lewishamilton, and 700,817 others

yourusername Cheers baby! 21 21 21

landonorris Head's spinning still

yourusername So I'm "old" AND I hold liquor better? Pick a struggle

maxfewtrell Mate she's winning this round landonorris Always does

user1 oh this is cuteeee

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Liked by pierregasly, alex_albon, and 800,131 others

landonorris 22. Hope it's the best one yet

user1 so cozy so domestic omg

user2 dating for 3 years, 30 years, same thing

user3 awwww he's wearing the bracelets she made him for their anni

yourusername Lovessss ya

yourusername Was very surprised I will admit you got me good

user4 THIS WAS A SURPRISE? user5 This man flew across the globe so he wouldn't miss her birthday...my word

charles_leclerc: He almost missed his plane back btw

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Liked by lirisaw, yourbestfriend, and 900,878 others

yourusername Scorpios, you've got to love them #22 #CradleHasBeenRobbed

user1 color coordinated suits...every post you make me even more bitter

user2 the loving look in their eyes...can't wait for the 79th bday posts

user3 right im here for the long haul!

lilymhe you all will never stop this joke

yourusername he started it!! lilymhe and yet you have not ended it landonorris she's older than me, this is a fact

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#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #social media au

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roosterforme · 7 months

Text

The Younger Kind Part 30 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Noah were the same. The way you missed Bradley together gave you comfort but also made everything harder. In your desire to move in with them, you started to organize the attic with your things. But who would have known you could be so hurt by the ghost of something that was left behind?

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Once Noah was in bed for the night, you started counting down the time until you would both be awake the next morning. It was like that every evening. And you usually ended up sitting alone on the couch with some Skittles, stressing about starting your new job and missing Bradley so much you occasionally thought you might cry.

Before he left, he told you he wasn't sure if or when he'd be able to communicate with you from the aircraft carrier. He told you he knew you were smart and strong and could handle everything without him. He promised he would be back home before you knew it. You laughed softly as you sprawled out on the couch and chewed on a purple Skittle. He didn't know what he was talking about.

Tears stung at your eyes again. He had only been gone about a week, and when Noah was asleep or at daycare, you started to dread the feeling of loneliness that you knew would come. Starting your job would help, hopefully. You should really take the time to get the rest of your stuff from your rental, not that there was much left. Just some textbooks, clothing, and kitchen gadgets. But you already decided that when Bradley got home, you would have all of your stuff here with you. You'd tell him you were completely moved in when you picked him up.

"Princess?" Noah called from the hallway, and you jumped up from the couch so quickly, Skittles went flying.

"What's wrong?" you asked, rushing to him. You scooped him up into your arms and examined his face, but he looked fine.

"When's Daddy coming home?" He buried his face against your neck and whined softly. "I miss him."

"Soon," you lied, carrying him out to the couch, accidentally smashing some Skittles into the area rug on the way. "He won't be gone very long. But we've been having a lot of fun together, right?"

You sat with him on your lap, and he nodded as you wiped a tear away. Now you couldn't tell if you missed Bradley more or if Noah did. "Yeah," he agreed, hugging you around your neck.

"Just look at us," you whispered with a soft laugh. "We're the same." You held him close as he snuggled against you. "I have an idea for tomorrow. We can go for a hike around the block and then go grocery shopping. And I have a fun treat I can make for you."

"Ants on logs?" he asked with a yawn.

"Even more exciting. I'll make you some peanut butter snails."

Noah nodded without any further questions, and soon he was sound asleep with his chubby cheek pressed to your shoulder. His soft, even breathing and the little puffs of his breath against your skin made you feel a lot better, and you held him on the couch for a long time.

The next morning, it felt like you had barely slept when your alarm went off to wake you up so you could take Noah to daycare. Mornings were a lot easier when Bradley was home and you didn't have to worry about doing everything by yourself.

"Let's get you dressed," you muttered, yanking Noah's shirt on and pulling it into place. "And brush your teeth," you added, hauling him into the bathroom. You managed to brush your teeth as well, and while he ate some fruit and cereal, you got dressed in Bradley's gray sweatpants and an old shirt of his.

You looked like a mess, but you also knew that you'd be late for dropoff if you took too much longer. Since you'd been driving the Bronco around all week, you took Noah by the hand and led him outside and into the backseat. You liked driving it, and it smelled like Bradley. His favorite radio station came on when you turned the key in the ignition, and you hummed along to oldies as you drove down your street. Your street.

Oh. Well that was a thought. You really hadn't considered the street with your little rental as your home in a while. You'd hardly been there at all for the past few months. And now the urge to sell your few pieces of furniture and call your landlord about your lease was making you excited.

"What are peanut butter snails?" Noah asked from the back as you pulled into the daycare parking lot.

"Hey, I thought you fell asleep last night when I mentioned those!" you said, tickling him as you scooped him out of his carseat. "They are made out of apples, and you're going to absolutely love them."

When you carried him inside, there was a girl your age who you'd never seen before working at the checkin area. "Hey, Noah," she said sweetly as she appraised you. "Where's your daddy? I was hoping to see him."

You smirked at her, fighting the urge to laugh. You wondered if this girl tried to flirt with Bradley when he walked Noah in. Maybe she thought his charming old man tendency of writing checks to the daycare was cute. You wondered how long she'd had an obvious crush on him, because she looked pretty damn annoyed to see you here today.

Oh, the things that came to your mind about your boyfriend as you stood there were absolutely indecent. If he knew this girl had a crush on him, he'd probably try to laugh it off before fucking you into the mattress after Noah went to sleep for the night.

You were weighing your words carefully, trying to decide how to respond when Noah said, "This is my babysitter. She sleeps in my Daddy's bed. And she calls him Daddy, too!" His smile was bright as he slung his arms around your neck and hugged you.

A startled laugh escaped your lips, and the girl in front of you abruptly stopped grinning. "Oh. Well, that's nice," she mumbled.

"It is," you agreed. "It's very nice. Have a great day, Noah." You kissed him goodbye and let him walk into the playroom.

When the other girl picked up a clipboard and handed it to you to sign, she said, "I'm just used to Lieutenant Bradshaw in the morning."

"Mmm," you hummed as you signed your name next on the line that said Noah Bradshaw. "And I'm used to him all day long."

This time she scowled. "Don't forget, you'll need to be on the list and have your photo ID to sign him out later."

You bestowed your kindest smile on her. "Perfect. See you this afternoon."

And then you swung by your rental on your way back home.

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

Every day was the same on the aircraft carrier, and there were no days off. Lectures and flight training were pretty much it. Bradley had no idea how things were going at home, and he hadn't had the opportunity to talk to you at all. A few short emails had been exchanged, in which he'd been able to make sure you and Noah were okay, but that was the extent of things.

He didn't have any friends on this deployment, and he didn't really feel like making any either. The other aviators were all from Lemoore and seemed chummy with each other. His bunkmate, Carl, was usually out of the room, too. It didn't matter though, he just spent his free time working out and looking at the collection of polaroids you packed in his bag along with a note.

Daddy,

I love this old camera I found in your attic. I'd love it even more if you were the one taking the photos instead of me. When you get home, maybe I can model for you? Let you take some new photos before you fuck me?

I love you,

Princess

Bradley groaned every time he took the note out and read it. Things were so bad at times, he started to get hard just looking at your handwriting. And then he'd think about you, posing for him in some of your cute underwear or nothing at all. And then he'd spread the photos out on his bunk, unzip his uniform pants and take matters into his own hands.

One night after dinner, he intended to go to the gym, but he ended up here again, next to his bunk with his pants unzipped. "Fuck," he grunted, holding the photo of you that he favored the most. You were laying in his four poster bed, and he could see your purple crown hanging from one of the corners. Your pretty tits were on display, and your hand was tastefully covering your pussy. But he already knew how every inch of you looked and tasted and smelled, and he loved using his imagination.

He jerked off thinking about how he was going to make you squirt on his face as soon as he got back home. He thought about the way you gripped him so tight when he was fucking you from behind. And he looked at that photo and the sweet, faux innocence on your face. "Come on, baby," he groaned, stroking himself faster now.

Then he heard a key in the door, and he shouted, "Shit! Wait a minute!"

He came in his own hand and on the undershirt that was on his bed. It felt so fucking good to get off, but now he was scrambling to clean everything up. Fucking Carl, that fucking asshole. Bradley hastily put his photos away and dumped the undershirt in with the rest of his dirty clothes. He would have to work on his laundry tomorrow anyway.

His cheeks felt flushed and he was uncomfortable as he zipped up his pants, but he forced himself to open the door and face Carl. "Hey," Bradley grunted, letting the other man inside. "I'm heading out."

"Cool," Carl returned with a smirk. Bradley slipped past him and went to walk a lap around the ship, hoping the mixed feeling of embarrassment and arousal would dissipate soon.

Just a few more weeks of this. Hopefully.

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

Tomorrow was your first day of work, and you were so ready to go. But you decided to use this last day to really get organized. Noah was at daycare, and you had a plethora of fruit and vegetables lined up on the counter along with raisins and some peanut butter. You and he were going to spend the whole evening making different animals out of the food. You even bought some celery, although you had your doubts that Noah would eat it.

But for now, you were shuttling your textbooks all neatly organized in crates up to the attic. After a few trips, you were sweating a lot. You left your water downstairs, so you just decided to chill for a minute next to one of the boxes of Noah's baby items. You'd spend so much time cleaning and organizing the mess up here, you'd probably be able to locate things faster than Bradley could.

"Adorable," you whispered as you opened the box and pulled out some baby clothes. There was a onesie with an airplane print, and pajamas that said I Love Daddy. Actually, most of the tiny clothing had an aviation theme or gave a shout out to dad. Bradley must have purged everything else, and that thought made you smile. There were some photo albums that you flipped through that made you squeal with delight.

Baby Noah was even chubbier and cuter than you could have imagined. Now you were curious if there were any baby photos of Bradley around. If you and he had a child together, would they be as sweet and cute as Noah? Your mind was swirling with the possibilities as you dug deeper. There was another small photo album, Noah's first birthday shirt, and a soft blanket. All that was left in the bottom of the box was a rattle that was shaped like a puppy and two USB flash drives.

You shook the rattle a few times before tossing it back inside the box, and when you stood to go back downstairs and get your water, you took the USB drives with you. Now that all of your textbooks and other random things were tucked away in the front corner of the attic, you took a minute to make a sandwich.

Convinced the blue and yellow flash drives had more cute Noah photos on them, you turned on Bradley's laptop while you ate lunch at the kitchen table. Once it booted up, you selected the yellow one and inserted it. And you were right. There were hundreds of photos here, all organized into folders. You knew Bradley must have taken the time to do this, although there were a handful of pictures that had Meredith in them.

You cringed when you looked at her. She didn't even look as excited for tiny, sweet Noah as Bradley did. Because in every single image you scrolled through, Bradley's face was lit up by a huge smile. He was impossibly handsome, and he clearly loved being a dad.

You knew he wanted another baby while Noah was still young. He wasn't shy about telling you that. You wanted it, too. It was hard not to think about raising Noah together along with another little one. Bradley wanted to spoil you and Noah both, and he did so at every opportunity you gave him. A credit card, access to his whole house, free reign to do whatever you wanted. He even offered to help you pay back your student loans. But you were just starting out in your career now, and maybe it wasn't the right time.

But you could still picture a baby here with the three of you so easily, and you loved thinking about it. The idea lingered as you removed the yellow USB drive and replaced it with the blue one. This time you found a video and a collection of photos. The first image made your stomach turn. It was a selfie of Meredith with Bradley's arm around her that must have been at least five years old. Bradley looked younger, the touch of wrinkles around his eyes and mouth was missing. But he looked happy. And you couldn't help yourself. You opened another photo thumbnail.

You gasped. Bradley must have taken this one. Meredith sprawled out in the bed you now slept in. She was naked and touching herself, looking right at the camera. Looking right at you. Her fingers were on her breast and closely trimmed pubic hair. She was stunning. Older. She looked more comfortable in her skin than you thought you ever could. She looked confident, and you felt jealous and sick and upset.

But you clicked on the icon for the video anyway.

Of course the volume on the laptop was turned way up since you'd never bothered to lower it after listening to music yesterday. So you got to hear loud and clear all those noises you were so used to from Bradley. But it was Meredith making him feel good. Not you.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned in the video, adjusting the camera to show Meredith in bed with her lips wrapped around his cock. You could see the pleasure on his face before the camera turned back to her, and she looked all too happy to be sucking him off.

She giggled, and it sounded revolting. Your stomach churned as she whispered, "Do you like it? Does it feel so good?"

You covered your mouth with both hands as you made a pathetic noise. Because Bradley in the video was all perfect, flexing muscles and beautiful scars as he propped the phone up and pushed Meredith onto her back. You wanted to close the computer or break it in half, but you couldn't remove your fingers from your mouth. You watched Bradley fuck Meredith, her back arched as he wrapped his hands around her waist. You watched his body that you knew so well bring her pleasure.

He leaned down to kiss her, and she gripped his biceps until it looked like she was going to break his skin with her nails. "Bradley," she whined, and you thought you were going to be sick right here.

Then Bradley fucked her harder and grunted, "Oh, Babe. I love you."

Bile was rising up to your throat as you finally yanked the USB drive from the computer and let it clatter to the floor. And you barely made it to the toilet before you threw up your sandwich.

You were shaking as you curled up on the cold tile floor. It felt good against the burn of your skin and your hot embarrassment. That wasn't meant for you, and you knew it. You had every opportunity to turn it off, but you didn't. Meredith was sexy and sophisticated looking, and even though you knew that happened years ago, you had nothing to compare it to. You felt like a little kid right now, with only your previous relationship with Greyson to show for yourself.

And all you could see in your mind was Bradley fucking Meredith and telling her he loved her. She left him and Noah in the dust, and then she tried to take Noah away from him. But he had actually at one time loved her.

An hour later, you took your photo ID in with you to pick Noah up, but the girl from earlier wasn't there. An older woman matched up the name on your driver's license with her list, and then she brought Noah out to you. The sick feeling from earlier persisted, and you were hoping that as soon as you saw Noah, it would start to get better. But it got worse, and tears stung your eyes.

"Hey, sweet Noah," you whispered as he made a beeline for your open arms, and you held him because you knew that's what he expected. He only knew love from you, and you never wanted that to change. You never wanted to be like Meredith.

But intrusive thoughts took over your mind as you drove him home to all of the produce on the kitchen counter. You turned the apples into snails and the bananas into boats, and Noah even tried some celery as he laughed. You tried to put on a playlist to keep your mind at ease, but you couldn't help it. You could still picture the video. And you should have known Bradley and Meredith used to be in love, but the idea never really stuck in your mind until you heard him say it.

You were standing there feeling like a knockoff version of what Bradley really wanted when Noah turned and looked up at you from the stool he was standing on. "Want one?" he asked, handing you an apple wedge covered in peanut butter and some coconut flakes.

"Thanks," you whispered, kissing the top of his head as you took the apple and nibbled on it.

But he was still looking up at you with his big, curious brown eyes. "Are you my mommy now?"

You fumbled the apple slice and it landed on the counter. Your lips parted wordlessly, but he was waiting for an answer. This child literally had no mother at all. Not anymore. But you wanted more than anything to become his mom. You already loved him, and taking care of him was one of the highlights of your day.

"Hopefully someday," you whispered, "because I love you, Noah."

He picked up the apple and handed it to you once more. "I know. And I want you to be my mommy."

You couldn't get another word out as you chewed up the apple and tried not to cry, so you just hugged him tight.

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

Bradley hated being away from home now that you were there. If this is how deployments were going to be if you and he married or had another kid, he didn't know how he was going to manage it. He felt a little on edge. If he were home, he'd put Noah in bed and share a bottle of wine and some Skittles with you on the couch.

You always tried to tell him which flavor of the candy went with which type of wine. As he walked back to his bunk from the gym, he could practically hear you telling him that red Skittles went with merlot. He couldn't remember if you said yellow went with chardonnay or pinot grigio, but he was certain that purple went with pinot noir. He fucking missed you so much. Just you and Noah, on his mind, all the time.

He would go back to his bunk, get his polaroids out and jerk it before he took a shower and went to bed, dreaming of your voice. After he made sure the door was locked, he spread the photos out on his bunk and untied his gym shorts. It didn't take long before he started to get hard, but then he realized his favorite photo was missing. That one of you in bed.

"The fuck?" he asked out loud, turning to look at Carl's empty bunk. There was no way. He secured his gym shorts again before rooting around in his own belongings for a few minutes. He checked under the beds and inside all of his drawers. But he came up short. He didn't really want to have to threaten Carl, but he knew he was going to have to. Because that would be beyond fucked up.

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

Ouch. And what the fuck did Carl do? Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 31

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peachesofteal · 6 months

Note

Ghoap x reader zombie apocalypse AU? 👀 just gonna leave that here...

Ooh anon you got me with this. Thought about it all night. A full fic of this dynamic in an apocalypse setting would be so good. Sadly, I don't have it in me to write an entire fic for this but I scratched it out as a dead disco au down below on my phone (I took bits and pieces of zombie media and smashed them together as I like):

18+ MDNI / angst, death

It was an accident.

All you had wanted to do was try to find some mushrooms. You knew this part of the woods usually had a fair amount to forage, and you were pretty good at distinguishing the good ones from the not so good ones. You hadn't meant to get distracted.

You knelt down to the forest floor, picking at a piece of bark on a downed log when you heard the rustling, the suspect sound of something moving through the brush near you.

You expected one of the slow ones. The ones that usually found themselves this far from the city, wandering aimlessly, looking for the next meal. Decaying and rotting flesh hanging from their limbs, a sign they had been long infected, the decomposition marking them as something easily escapable.

You did not expect a runner.

You screamed- a huge no no, as Simon had been drilling into your head- when you saw it, far too late, tripping over yourself to try to get away, your hunting knife pressed into the palm of your hand.

You stood little chance against a runner. They were fresh, muscles still intact, lactic acid burning through their bodies, movements fast and sharp, able to take down an entire human in one fell swoop. They even looked like you, still holding their pallor, their posture, their fine motor skills.

Only their minds were gone. Addled by the infection, brains turned to hot mush inside their skulls.

They had one objective.

Eat.

You managed to clear the log, sprinting as fast as you possibly could, trying to take long, deep breaths through your nose just as Johnny taught you.

"More oxygen that way, love. It'll help your endurance, keep you runnin' longer."

They were always doing that now, equipping you for survival. Trying to train you like a solider, teaching you the finer points they thought you should know.

"We're gonna make it, together." Simon had said, the morning they showed up in the middle being away for work, clad in full tactical gear, guns in hand. "As a family."

"Ye have to listen to everything we say, alright darling? Everything's goin' to be okay." Johnny promised at the same time as you tried to pack some essentials into your backpack with trembling fingers.

They were obsessed with trying to instill as much of their knowledge into as possible, trying to prepare you, help you, listing off rules they thought were key, ensuring you knew to follow them.

One being: don't get distracted.

You curse yourself, feet flying underneath your body and heart thrumming in your chest with panic. You're too slow, and you can hear it behind you, sprinting just as fast as you are, preparing to launch and take down it's next meal.

You don't see the snare of brambles until you're in them, nearly slamming to a stop, thorns scratching against your skin as you fight against the thicket. It's too dense, slowing your ability to get away... and the runner is still hot on your heels, working its way through the mess, snapping its jaw like a shark.

Simon comes out of nowhere. One second you're hacking away at the branches and the next, there's a massive, solid warmth at your back, standing between you and the snarling monster. He's facing away from you, brandishing a knife, engaged in a full fight with the runner, taking it to the ground in an attempt to get the blade into its temple. You watch mouth wide, frozen, holding your breath until the job is done, and Simon is hauling himself upwards, pulling you into his arms before stepping back to look you over.

You burst into tears. You've always told them, you're not for this kind of world. You're too gentle, too sensitive. You're a painter, for fucks sake. Not a killer. You're too soft to survive.

They say it doesn't matter. That you can be as soft as you want, because you have them, and they'll be the killers. They'll be the hard ones.

"Did it get you? Let me see, c'mon-" He checks your arms, your neck, the tear on your shirt but finds nothing. "Alright, you're alright." He's telling you, and himself, relief exhaling from his body with each syllable. "You're alright, darling. I've got ya. Come here." He holds you tight, rubbing your back, kissing your cheek, your forehead until you're calm, breathing deeply and wiping your face.

You believe the worst has passed, until you blink up at him, and see the blood on his neck.

The bite.

"We need to make a plan."

"We're nae makin' a bloody plan." Johnny hisses, and Simon closes his eyes like he's tired. "We keep goin'. We'll make it to the rendezvous with Price and they'll have a solution. We dinnae even know how fast it spreads."

Simon lets loose a sigh, heavy with exhaustion. With the toll that this life has become. With the weight, of everything. He tucks you into his body, wrapping his other arm around Johnny, and holds the two of you close. Tightly. Tighter than he ever has before.

"Alright."

The next morning, everything is different.

You woke up last, fire still barely smoldering, little energy bar on the ground next to you. The guys sleeping bags were already rolled up, stacked neatly with Simon's pack, and the long gun that Johnny carries.

But they were nowhere to be found.

Confused, you slid free, stretching with a silent groan, scanning your surroundings until you spot them on the edge of the woods, locked together on their feet, Johnny's face mashed against Simon's neck, strong arms holding him close.

"What's going on?" The question comes out confused when you get close, and Johnny pulls away with wet eyes, hands shaking. What's happening? Why are they both crying? Fear screams through your body, red alert systems firing up as your brain struggles to put all the pieces together.

"Simon-" Johnny begins, but stops abruptly, eyes slamming shut, lips pressed together in agony.

"'m not feelin' too well." Simon explains gently. "You and Johnny are gon’ start on ahead, and 'm gonna stay here for a while." Something, something logical, something smart, is shouting at you from the back of your mind but you shove it away, opting for delusion instead.

"Okay, you're going to catch up though, right? You said. We'll find-" You frowned, looking from him to Johnny as a sick feeling grew in your stomach. "Johnny?"

“Look at me.” Simon combs through your hair with trembling fingers, unsteady for the first time in your entire existence. “I love you, darling. I love you so, so much.”

“S-stop, we're supposed to stay together, you- you said-“

“You have to go with Johnny now, okay? He’s gonna take care of you.” He jerks you forward, closed mouth pressing against your forehead. "I love you."

“No, Si.” You sob, fingers curled in his vest. “You have to come with us. You have to, we’ll fi-find a cure, they’ll be help, somewhere.”

“Johnny.” He chokes, and a strong arm wraps around your waist, Johnny’s heavy, tearful breathing echoing just above your ear. Someone works your fingers free, pulling your hand away but not letting go, holding onto you like a lifeline.

You look up between him, to his face, to Simon’s and realize. They’ve already said goodbye.

Simon strokes the back of his fingers down Johnny’s cheek, tears dripping down his own.

“I love you both, more than anything. More than life.” He squeezes your hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of your knuckles, and then steps away, pulling the handgun from the holster on his thigh. "Take care of each other."

"NO!" you scream, but Johnny is dragging you backwards like a rag doll, away from where Simon stands in clearing, gaze never breaking from the two of you, face wet with tears. "Johnny!"

"Darling-" he chokes out amidst a sob. "Shhh, please. Please." He begs you to be quiet, to hush, but you can't, you can't stop screaming, or fighting him, trying to get back to Simon, to reunite your family, to stay together. You scream and scream until Johnny’s hand claps over your mouth, his own words clogged by his cries, pleading and begging until he's cutting off your oxygen with a desperate apology and lifting you over his shoulder like dead weight.

The last thing you hear before you lose consciousness is the sound of a gunshot.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #I could be convinced #dead disco zombie au

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phoniexrose02 · 8 months

Text

Freak in the Sheets

Miguel Diaz x Black!Reader

Smutt🌹🔥

Miguel had a Pretty Innocent Looking face, To the Way He Spoke, to the Beautiful Smile he often Showed. No one would Expect him to be a Horny Fuck, Expect you. You could See the way his Eyes Focused on you in anything that Made your Curves show. But he Somehow Still Kept that Innocent Smiling when Talking, Only to come Home a Rearrange your Guts.

"Oh God Miguel~" he plummeted his Dick Balls Deep While Pulling you Back in Doggy, it was One of his Favorite Positions. Simple.

Your Bent over your Shared Kitchen As he Gave Brutal Back shots, You Move against Him as he Thrust Deeper into your Walls." Cum for me Baby, They'll Be here any minute!" Of course he Couldn't Wait to Fuck you After Company was Gone. So why Not Squeeze it in Now~

The way your Walls Squeezed Made him Moan like a Pornstar as he Plowed you Harder, He only Fueled the fire as he Reaches down to Rub your Clit." Fuck I'm Close! Faster Faster!~" he Obeyed your Wishes Only to Be Stopped By a Knock on the Door.

He Groaned and Pulled out of you Making you Whimper, As you attempted to pull up your Panties You were Quickly Shoved back onto the counter. "Miguel wha-" He Shoved a Small Vibrator into your aching Cunt, you Shivered as he Pulled up your Panties."Be Good, and you'll be Rewarded~" He Whispered Before leaving to open the Door.

The Night Went On, Well Dragged On. Your New house was now Filled with people who wanted to Talk. Miguel had no Mercy Playing with the Vibrator, He was trying to Break you.

You sat in the Kitchen Fleeing the Group for a Break, only to be Met With a Quiet Roaming Robby. As you Spoke to him, you could Feel the Vibrator slowly Climb to it's Highest Settings. You Shivered Clamping your Thighs Tight in an attempt to ease the intense Pleasure."Please Excuse me Robby" you Quickly Make a Be-Line to the Bathroom, Only to have Miguel Block your Way."Don' Touch It." You Huff Crossing your Arms."Miggy your Just torturing me at this Point"

"Be a good Girl And We'll have Fun Tonight~" With that he Left, Leaving you Hot and Bothered again. The Rest of the Night you Cling to His Arm. He looked so Innocent Talking to his Friends, Every now and then he'd play with the Setting to Watch you Wiggle. It was a Relief When People started to Head Home, The Less People, the More Touchy he Got.

You told your Last Guest Goodbye and Close your Front Door. It wasn't Long Before he was Pushing You Up against it, Running his Fingers down to your Soaked Pussy." Mi reina~ You've Ruined your Panties, Let me Clean you Up" He Turned you to Face him and Slowly Lowered himself to his Knees. You Pull up your Dress Happily as he Pulls down your Panties, He smiled and kissed your Dripping Cunt. You Shivered as he Licked and Slurped at your Cunt, Purposely leaving your Twitching Hole Untouched. When you attempted to Move into him for More Pleasure he Quickly Stands up, and Shoves his Tongue into your Mouth Making your Taste yourself. As you Melt into the Kiss he pulls Away Once again, his Sly Smirk Only Pissed you off Further. "All Clean."

"What, Miguel are you fucking serious-" Miguel Quickly picked you up and Threw you over his shoulder."Wait Where are we going?? Please Fuck me Here" He only Shook his Head and gave your Ass a Slap."We're Gonna Need the Bed Cause I'm Not stopping Until your Full Mamí" Your Cheeks Heated at his Words and you Giggled Letting him Haul to your Shared Room."You Gonna Breed Me Papí?~" He threw you onto the Bed and Began to Undress Himself, You watched his Beautiful Dick Spring from his Briefs.

He Grabs your Ankle and Pulls you To the Edge of the bed."Please Fuck me Miguel, I want it so Fucking bad~"

He Spreads your Legs Wide enough to Slide in Between them. He Held your Lips Apart Getting a Good Look at your Wet Pulsing Cunt, He Slowly Shoved his Fingers inside Making you Moan quietly."Can't Forget about our Little Friend~" He pulls the Small Vibrating Bullet from your Cunt and Quickly Shoved himself inside. You Moaned Gripping the Sheets underneath you. He let out a relieved sigh simply Tossing the Toy to the side. You wrap your Legs around his Waist, your Pussy Wet and Squeezing. He started his Rough Thrust into your Pussy Making you Wail in Pleasure, He Loved to Hear how Good he Made you Feel. So he Pounded Harder into you Resting his Chest against yours, Moaning in your Ear as your Walls Suffocate his Dick."Fuck Mamí, you really want my Nut Huh?~" He Giggled Into your Ear continuing his Brutal Thrust into your Cunt, You Pulled at his Hair Earning a Pleased Groan."You want My Kittens Amor?~" he Groaned into your Neck as you Tighten Around him."Please Papí!~"

His Grip on your Hips only Tightened as he Began to Fuck you Faster."Fuck I'm Gonna Cum" You Pulled at his Hair Facing Him to you Earning a Hiss, You Kissed Him Moaning into Each Others Mouth as You Came. You Pulled him In Deep as he Flooded your Walls, He Shivered and Twitched as Your Pussy Sucked Him Dry.

The two of you Pull away Leaving a String of Saliva, Panting like Thirst Dogs. He Straightened himself up and Pulled you legs Apart as he Slowly Pulled himself out, He Smirked Watching his Cum Leak from Your Still Twitching Hole."You did so Good Mi Amor~" You Smile and Wrap Your Arms around His Neck."Round 2 Daddy?~"

"Hell Yeah Mama's~"

Cobra Kai🐍

#black reader #Miguel Diaz #Miguel Diaz x Reader #Cobra Kai #cobra kai smut #xolo maridueña #Miguel Diaz x Black! Reader #miguel diaz smut #cobra kai x reader #Cobra Kai x Black! Reader

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kenmakodz · 2 months

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CANDID LOVE ˙✧˖📷

06. brain food ☆

writing in-between cuts!

a quiet knock on the door catches your attention, which was previously focused on scrolling through random shows on Netflix. a weird feeling, you get. an emotion that seems to be the love-child of excitement and nervousness. there's no time to run away from these feelings, though, so you get up and open the door for the poor boy who's been hauling 3 bags of food.

"my god" he sighs, setting the bags down on the coffee table. "i think my stomach has eyes. there's no way we're finishing all this in one night." you laugh, noticing how he's holding his arm out of pain. "i've definitely done the same, more times than i'd like to admit-- here, sit down for a bit." gesturing to the couch, you sit down and pat a spot relatively close to you. he takes this offer with open arms, considering he'd walked pretty far. "sorry i took a while, hopefully i didn't keep you waiting too long?" his hands fidget together as he takes in your room. it's the size of a triple, but you have it to yourself. it's quite surprising how nice the school treats transfer students, considering how main students are usually shoved into a tiny room with 2-3 other people. you place your hand upon his; a ballsy move, but you know how it feels to be anxious about things. you don't want him to be anxious with you. "it's fine, really. i don't mind waiting for you." you smile, moving your hand back to it's previous position. embarrassment clearly runs through his body, but to you he just looked starstruck. after a moment of pushing these feelings back, he returns your smile. "i'm glad, then. um, can we eat? i fear my stomach is going to wrinkle up if we don't." "yes yuuta, we can eat."

"okay, okay. this seems good for now, i think?" he sits back from the laptop you two have been sharing, taking a second to re-read the outline. your eyes scan the page as well; it's a very.. rough outline. you start laughing at the last few lines, where he'd begun to give up on being professional. after all, only you two will see this draft. "why are you laughing?" he pouts, thinking you're making fun of the ideas laid out. "oh relax," you lean back with him, realizing he's gotten much closer than before. "i can just tell that you were rushing writing the final scene." his head whips to you and a hand clutches his chest, feigning shock; a sarcastic gasp falls from his lips. "how could you! we worked very hard on this!" your hand pushes his away from his chest, the both of them landing on his lap. "oh, shut up. i'm just teasing." he huffs anyways, a facade you've become accustomed to. after all, one of your best friends is nobara kugisaki.

reaching to a stuffed dog to your side, you hand it to him. "here, will an emotional support dog help?" he sighs, wrapping it in his arms. "i suppose." laughing again, you sit up and grab the laptop once more. "you're so dumb." he grips the toy more, you don't realize it, but he likes the way it smells of lavender just like you do. "what are you doing now, don't you think its enough for tonight?" you stop to think, after sending the draft to your phone. "well, we'll need to send casting calls to the neighboring schools sometime soon.. but i guess we can be done for now." he closes the laptop for you and places it on the table once again, looking back. "good, we can do that another time-" his sentence is cut off due to his phone practically blowing up in the room over. "sorry," he starts, getting up and handing the stuffed dog back to you. "let me go check on that."

"hey, sorry again. my friends were blowing up my phone for some reason." he comes back into the room where you two were sitting before, unsure if he should sit back down. he can't read your face, and you can't read his either, despite you both feeling the same way. "it's okay. you can sit back down if you want to stay a bit longer..?" you look down for a split second, anticipating the rejection he was about to give you. "i was looking for shows before you got here, but i couldn't find a good one." you try to convey what you say as a question, but it almost comes out as a plea. he doesn't say anything immediately, and you almost get upset? looking back up, you realize he's already getting ready to sit back down with you. "i'd love to stay. i also have an amazing suggestion for a show." your eyes light up, and it feels like the room filled with more air the way you both sighed with relief. "oh really?" you tease him, as he takes back the toy he'd left with you. "lay it on me then."

fun facts -> TWO PEOPLE PINING FOR EACHOTHER BUT NEITHER KNOW IT!!!! a classic trope. chefs kiss. yuuta offered to go get snacks not only because he was starving, but he also needed time to calm himself down before going to y/n's dorm. he was scared. scared that he'd say something stupid, give her the ick, embarrass himself. you know, the works. once he got there though, it felt like he never wanted to go home again.

-> GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCh. screams. kicking my feet like a little girl writing this chapter.

previous, masterlist, next [07. i hate men (except you two)]

taglist is open! @just-a-girlblogger @moryymor @swissy23 @hvnyacoded @sereniteav @k4romis @jayathelostdragon @h3rmess @olivandeee @lysaray @ari3000dontcare @raechu11 @marifujioka @nyxlai @sonicsolos @saltypuffin1040 @r0ckst4rjk @h8ani @lmaolmaolmao @maya-maya-56 @mittensdun @adrenova @pnkblueberry @morgyyyyyyy @chososwh0r3 @lunecqm @r4veeen @arivsx @levlucs-kiru @mellozhi

if you are in bold, i am unable to tag you :( and if i forgot to add you, PLEASE YELL AT ME

⤷ © kenmakodz

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adickaboutspoons · 6 months

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I object to the term "whim"

In episodes 4 and 5 of the second season, there's a lot of throwing around of the word "whim." Ed and Stede both argue that they were just a whim to the other, Stede concludes they they are both "whim-prone" and that whim-prone people shouldn't run off to China together, and Ed cites their "whim-prone"ness as a reason to take things slow as they start to rebuild their relationship.

And I know we all like to joke about U-Haul failboats in love, but they aren't whim-prone. That's not what's going on here.

The first time on the show that we hear the word "whim" is in s1e4, when Izzy says "For years, I've followed your every whim, I've managed your increasingly erratic moods, I've massaged this crew when they were worried about your judgment." But from what we see of Izzy's interactions with the crew, he's not a massager, he's a sledgehammer, and the crew respect Blackbeard a hell of a lot more than they respect Izzy. Ed's moods don't read as "erratic" at all if you pay attention to what he's responding to; he's an emotional guy, for sure, but mostly even-keeled until highly provoked. And as for "following [his] every whim," Izzy can barely follow orders as given - committing insubordination at least twice that we see; not telling Stede that it was Blackbeard that wanted to meet him in s1e3, and flat-out ignoring Ed's "we're not doing this" in s1e6 when he challenges Stede to the duel. So I don't see Izzy as a reliable narrator when he suggests Ed is "whim-prone" - it might look like that to him because he doesn't try to understand Ed on his own terms, but it is v. much a construction that Izzy is imposing on Ed; not an objective character trait Ed possesses. After all, you don't get a reputation for being "history's most brilliant tactician" if you're not, at the heart of it all, a planner.

Stede is also a planner. Mary accuses Stede of abandoning his family on a whim, but that's also inaccurate. Thanks to all the hard work @nicnacsnonsense did in her marvelous 1st season timeline video, we know that SIX MONTHS elapsed between Stede proposing with his model boat that they go to sea at the anniversary debacle and the night of Mary's apology when Stede had already committed to actually leaving. That's not a whim - that's plenty of time for serious deliberation. It LOOKED like a whim from the outside because of their disastrous communication failures, but that doesn't make it true. Unabandoning his family was not a whim either - Chauncy was the catalyst, but only because he created a high-pressure situation that validated all of the insecurities we'd seen Stede struggling with all season; guilt over abandoning his family, and his crater-bottom self-esteem that the people he loved were better off without him. Even in season 2, we see more of this long-game behavior, where Stede takes his drudge job in towels and elevates it by applying scent; a move that LOOKS whim-prone from the outside, but primes him for success when it comes time to escape, because it means he knows the guards are used to deeply inhaling the scent of the fresh towels he gives them, and is thus he is able to trick them into chloroforming themselves.

There are times in the 1st season where it might LOOK like they are being whim-prone, but for the most part, those things are mostly time-critical circumstances . The impulsive decision to go to the French Party Boat? The invitation was for that night, so it's not like another opportunity like that was just going to come along. Stede's impromptu Fuckery? He'd JUST been introduced to the concept that morning, and the ships on which he wanted to try it out were three days away. If you'll recall, Ed actually tries to talk him out of going through with it with such a short turn-around time, and likely would have succeeded if Izzy hadn't interveined to further his "Kill Stede Now" agenda. The Treasure hunt? Stede was anxiously scrabbling for ANYTHING to keep Ed's attention (AFTER he confirmed there were no oranges for sale, not even for ready money) because Ed said that his plans for the day included "planning for the next adventure" and leaving. Act of Grace? Signing away ten years of your life for a man you've known for a month IS a lot, but the alternative was letting Stede be executed. Running away together? I'll give you that China was quite the absurd swing, but they WERE in jail for all intents and purposes - no sense staying longer than absolutely necessary, and there theoretically could have been time for re-working the plan once they were just away had circumstances not arisen.

So while I think it's fair to call the boys whimsical with their love of dress-up and lovely perfumed things and theatrics and tasty sugary treats, I wouldn't say whim-prone is an accurate descriptor (and the fact that they are accepting that it is makes my heart crack wide open for them, because it's evidence that they're still both uncritically absorbing the labels applied to them by people who don't really understand them at all), nor the problem they need to address.

Their real problem is actually the exact opposite of flitting from whim to whim; that, once they've committed to something, they are all in, 100% ride-or-die. It's why Ed resigned himself to going down with the ship when it turned out he'd miscalculated the date instead of trying any evasive maneuvers with the fog to give them cover. It's why, when Stede didn't show at the docks, Ed went full pillow fort until Lucius was able to talk him around into life going on without Stede. It's why Stede threw himself into trying to be all the things he thought he'd failed to be as a husband and father when he came back to his family, and was committed to staying, even though it was making him miserable, until Mary tried to murder him.

Ultimately, the solution for both these conditions is the same - slowing down. But it's not a matter of making sure this is serious and not just a whim for either of them; it's a matter of taking the time to understand exactly what it is that you're committing to. So I object to the term "whim."

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd s2e4 #ofmd s2e5 #my modest contribution to fandom

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sphireath-wisp · 5 months

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#Sweather Weather

Sypnosis: "Because the season I like is a short thing, it melted away without me noticing. Alone in this moving scenery, I stand still and think of you." Spending their favorite season with you.

Warnings: Not Proofread, short, indulged a little, you can definitely tell who are my favorites

Featuring: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor x GN! Reader/MC

Lucifer - Autumn

After a long day, Lucifer settles in his office, knees giving up on carrying his own weight and he lands right onto the cushions of his chair. A sigh causes all the tension he's stored up to release - shoulders slumping, jaw relaxing, finally dropping the prideful facade and front he puts up for Diavolo's sake once he's alone.

Well, not entirely, alone.

You're there, right by him during his favourite season, and he hopes you stay just as close during any other season. You're leaning forward, back arched as your head rests on the little space left on his table aside from all of the documents and papers piled onto it. Judging by your soft snores, you're sound asleep.

"(Name)... what am I going to do with you, human?" he speaks more fondly than he realizes, expression softening as he's found comfort in your presence. Leaving a chaste kiss on your forehead, he drapes his coat over your shoulders - it is getting colder after all, he excuses his actions internally.

Lucifer doesn't exactly remember when your habit began, but from his memory, he remembers it was another autumn night. Adjusting to Devildom wasn't an easy feat and sleep didn't come as easily as you hoped some nights. With pillows wrapped in your embrace and hauling your blankets down the hallway, you found refuge in his office.

"(Name)?" He's surprised you forgot to knock. If not for his own exhaustion, he would have grown more irritated by the intrusion. "Is there something you need?"

"...Can't sleep. Sorry for barging in like this," he can faintly hear your murmurs, voice hoarse.

"Have any of my brothers been disrupting your sleep schedule?" The first thing that comes to his mind would be the troublesome second-born.

"No, I just... want some company. Is it okay if I just sit here?" You gesture.

Lucifer's eyes narrow slightly. While it would be easy to chase you out - Lucifer is busy enough, taking care of you is also one of his many responsibilities. "...Don't touch anything."

It wasn't a direct 'no', you figure. "Yessir."

Mammon - Summer

Basking in the sun, toes in the sand, and shots of blue paradise that leave a fruity taste on one's tongue is what summer is all about... according to Mammon. There's no better time to take a dip in the ocean and let loose with a few margaritas when it comes to summer.

He had been raving about going to the beach the whole of Spring to the point where it had reached Diavolo's ears. "It's a well-deserved break, ya know?" Mammon bargained with Diavolo, delighted to the extremes when he agreed to let him and his brothers take a short vacation at his private resort.

But, of course, Mammon had his ulterior motives.

"Come on, (Name)! You're the only human that keeps me waiting like this, ya know?" Mammon reaches out for your hand, grip firm when you finally envelop his hand with yours - as if he never wanted to let you go.

"I heard there was some good treasure buried around the resort. Imagine the amount of grimm I could get if we found a gem or two!" Mammon leads you to the beach, not a stagger in his steps as he practically skips there.

"So, you want to make me help you find some treasure?"

"Ya finally got it, human! Now, come-"

"and do you know where this so-called treasure is? Or what we're gonna use to dig it up?"

Mammon's silence and expression tell you he didn't exactly think this through. "W-well, we'll figure it out on the way, right?" He quickly quips back to life, a happy-go-lucky grin on his face when you laugh at his antics.

"Fine, but I get 90% of the treasure."

"E-eh?! C'mon, that's too much!"

Leviathan - Autumn

Levi doesn't find himself liking a certain season. But if he HAD to pick one, it'd be autumn.

Winter gets too cold for his scales and he has to tend to them, which is a hassle since he could be spending that precious time binge-watching the latest animes. Summer is too hot for his liking and it's not as if he can bring his figurines to the beach where they could be washed away in the ocean! Spring? Eh, it's alright - nothing too special to Levi.

But, autumn! Halloween animes and events! New merch and deals! Price drops and cosy weather! The four seasons honestly don't make that much of a difference to him because he likes to stay inside, but autumn actually makes him want to step outside for a bit.

Not to mention, you - his favorite normie, his player 2. That extra ticket he "accidentally" bought for the upcoming convention would go to waste if he didn't ask you. Mustering up all of his courage, he shyly slides the slip of paper into your hand during game night.

"Oh, you want me to come along?"

"I mean- if you want to!" He almost drops the controller, "Of course, I'll teach you all the proper etiquette."

Your light giggle causes Levi's face to flush red. "Okay then," he breathes a sigh of relief, burying his face even deeper into the pillow on his lap, "I'll come along."

"You're sure, right? Like, 100% sure?" Your nod reassures his doubts, calming his nerves and racing heartbeat. You have no idea how happy you've made him.

Satan - Winter

Curled up with a good book, right by the fireplace in the House of Lamentation, Satan enjoys the cosy atmosphere in the library. In the warm glow of the fire, his favourite sweater was on you instead of him - he always insisted it looked so much better on you than him, he thanked the fact that everyone else was out grocery shopping now.

It was the peak of winter and much too cold for any human to handle. No matter how many layers you were wrapped with, you couldn't stop shivering and figured it'd be best to stay home. "Someone has to take care of the House of Lamentation. (Name) shouldn't move far from the fire, so I'll take over for them." was the excuse that Satan conjured up, a hand on his chin as he dared Lucifer to try and oppose him.

Other than the occasional objection from Levi + Belphie (who wanted to stay home as much as you), Mammon (who wanted to be you and is linked to you by the hip), and Asmo (who insisted that the cold weather was terrible for his oh-so-delicate skin), he won the battle of words and finally had a moment of peace - with his favourite person too.

"Still feeling cold?" As observant as ever, Satan takes notice of your trembling form. You rub your hands together for friction, hoping to generate heat. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Come on, I don't want you to freeze." Satan drags his chair closer to the fire before sitting down, patting his lap with his free hand. You oblige, making yourself comfortable and wrapping your arms around his neck. You feel him rub circles on your back, reading the book in his hand out loud in a low whisper so you can tune in as well.

You bury your face into the crook of his neck. He sighs. "Still feeling cold? Is this any better?"

"Much better. My fingers felt like freezing off." He chuckles, allowing your hands to wander for warmth under his shirt. Satan uses one hand to hold the book, thumb wedged between the pages to keep it open and bookmark where he had stopped. His other hand trailed up your back, toying and playing with your hair and along the nape of your neck.

"Good. Would you like me to continue reading?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay," he says with a smile. He hopes winter doesn't end anytime soon.

Asmodeus - Spring

"Darling, should I keep this or give it as a hand-me-down?" Asmo asks you for the umpteenth time as you lay on his bed. A soft hum escapes you as you think, "You could pass it to Levi, he did say he needed the extra fabric for cosplays. I don't think this jacket suits you anyway."

Winter had ended on a good note. Spring was right around the corner. Lucifer deemed it necessary to do some spring cleaning, which meant that clearing out Asmo's closet was on his list of responsibilities. The clothes were never piled up messily like Belphie or Mammon's, more like untouched since some weren't trendy anymore or couldn't be used for many occasions.

Plus, being Asmo's second opinion means you were the first to snatch any clothes he didn't want anymore. They were always good quality and never stained, so it was practically brand new.

"Nono, keep that one! You could pair it with the jeans you kept just now."

"Oh, right! You have a great eye, sweetheart," You giggle at the compliment.

"Should we give this to Belphie or Satan? Beel would be too big for this." Asmo tosses the fabric to you.

"Belphie in pink?" You bite your lower lip to hold back your laugh, "Asmo, what are you thinking? Belphie would burn this the moment he receives this."

"You'd be surprised at how good Belphie looks in pink, sweetie. It's that bleak attitude and eyebags that hold him back," Asmo continues to dig through his closet, "He let me paint his nails pink before...

Albeit, he was sleeping."

Beelzebub - Summer

It's a nice cool evening and while everyone else is back at their hotel rooms, you bumped into Beel - surprisingly without Belphie since the twins are usually together - near the lobby while planning to go for a stroll. "I'll go with you," he declares firmly, "wouldn't want you getting hurt or lost."

Of course, the only setback is Beel's insatiable hunger, stomach growling just as you begin your stroll - he forgot that his former purpose for going to the lobby was to stop by the snack bar. It wasn't much of a hassle to retrace your steps back, but you couldn't resist the idea of having an impromptu barbecue.

"Careful, it's hot." Beel passes you the meat skewer, blowing light puffs of air on it and holding himself back from eating it right then and there - he made it specifically for you in mind, so he'd disappoint himself if he did decide to eat it impulsively.

And you notice. From the way he paused midway, eyes locked onto the skewer that was starting to look more and more delectable as he stared at it, you could tell immediately that he was dying to have a bite.

Eventually, he passes it to you, eyes only leaving its direction after he passes it to you.

"Want a bite? You've been cooking for a while now," You chuckle.

"Really? You don't mind?" You could see stars forming in his eyes and you giggle at his enthusiasm. When you shake your head, he's practically bursting in euphoria. "I won't be able to hold back, you know that, right?"

You lift the skewer in front of his face and, meeting it eye-to-eye, he couldn't resist. Attention stolen by the skewer before him, you take over and cook for him. It was a futile attempt to keep up with him and he knew it, but food tasted so much better when it's made by you that he couldn't help but ask for another serving.

"All this meat was actually supposed to be for tomorrow's barbecue," You laugh. ""It'll be fine, I'll take the blame," A hand cups your cheek, catching you off guard before it whisks your head towards Beel's direction. He holds the skewer up to your mouth.

"Here, take a bite."

"Thanks," You chew slowly when Beel reminds you to take your time, vivid memories of the last time you choked on your food.

"It's good, right?" His smile only widens when you nod, "I'm glad."

Belphegor - Winter

Come on now. It was plain obvious why Belphie loved winter so much. Cold weather makes him sleepy, and it's always cold. He can hibernate through the whole day and he wouldn't need to move an inch! He rarely woke up during winter, even with the noise the house of lamentation generates daily.

Truly a dream come true for the avatar of sloth.

However, this spoiled little prick has demanded more than just pillows and a quiet environment this winter. He wanted you as his personal plushie and he lacked the courtesy to even ask. You found out about his unexpected request when he tugged on your sleeve, dragging you into his pillow fort and encasing you in a hug.

"Belphie?" You ask aloud, shifting to sit up before realizing his legs were holding you down. "Belphie, I have kitchen duty today. I'll come back later."

He didn't budge. The only response you got was a soft snore from him.

"Beeeelphie?" Your squirming causes him to grunt.

"Stop moving, will you? I'm trying to sleep." Belphie opens one eye, free hand rubbing the other. "I've been having trouble sleeping, so help me."

"You have? You seemed to sleep perfectly fine just a moment ago, Mr. Sleeping Beauty." You scoffed playfully, frostbitten fingertips roaming to his hair.

"That's because you're with me," Belphie huffs, rolling his eyes as if he were saying something so obvious that even Mammon knows. "Now, stay, will you?" He asks, but you don't seem to have much of a choice when he pulls you closer to bury his face into your chest. You sigh, realizing that you want nothing more than to give in to him now.

"Okay. I'll stay, Belphie," you play with his hair, twirling the ends around your finger and slowly soothing him to sleep.

"Thank you."

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sophswritingthings · 5 months

Note

PART 8 MATERIAL

(Back to the present where we're at the brothel and Mizu is about to go kill a girl I forgot abt)

So Mizu is about to leave to go Assassinate the girl and had Akemi tied up leaving behind Ringo and the Reader. Reader tells Ringo to keep an eye on Akemi while reader goes to go find herbs to refill on medicinal stuff and runs into an old friend. More like frenemy if you will.

The frenemy is from her childhood and the frenemy starts go taunt reader for her horrible childhood and reader being a mature doctor she is, she leaves the frenemy behind and goes to another shoo for herbs but the frenemy is really persistent like she's inlove with the reader. (Probs is ngl)

Then reader somehow slips that she has a husband and frenemy goes like "I could probably have him second's." in a very condescending tone and reader gives her a warning by throwing one of her signature poisoned Kunai near her and pinning her against the wall before saying something along the line like "You couldn't have jack shit." before purposely prying the Kunai out of the wall and slightly slicing her cheek. Knowing the Kunai was poisoned.

Reader goes back to the brothel and finds Mizu and Ringo talking to Akemi (more like listening to her threaten Mizu) and reader ofc gets pissed and throws a very sharp hair pin near her head and again warns her about threatening her husband (wife 🤨).

Mostly abt reader and her temper because it's all I can cook up for part 8 😊😊😊😊

pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader

warning(s): swearing, blood, poison yknow the usual shit

a/n: reader said “bitch you couldn’t have my man if you tried” and honestly I love that for her!

summary: you run into an old “frenemy” and you two have a little chat while you’re out.

word count: 815 words / 4,354 characters

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

“keep an eye on her,” mizu gestures toward the tied up akemi; hauling herself to her feet. she flips her hat onto her head, sliding open the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

“husband,” akemi scoffs. “why.. him?”

“simply because I love him,” you raise to your feet, standing over akemi with your eyes narrowed. “is that not reason enough?”

“where I come from—no,” akemi shifts her gaze downward. “it isn’t.”

“hm,” you hum, glancing at ringo. “ringo—keep an eye on her, yeah?”

ringo nods, “I’ll keep close watch.” he smiles.

you smile back at him, “and don’t listen to what mizu says. you don’t have to kill her if she moves,” you chuckle, partly because of how rash your wife could be at times. “just make sure she doesn’t do anything.. stupid.”

you grab your basket and head out the same sliding door mizu had left from, not long ago. you slide it shut behind you, walking past the women of the brothel and out the door.

you spot a shop, down the street. an herbalist is exactly what you needed to restock the medicines you took for travel.

with a smile, you head toward the shop, the bell ringing as you push open the door.

heads flip onto you for just a moment—and when they see it is no-one of interest—go back to what they’re doing.

“excuse me?” you approach the counter, “do you happen to have shisho? I am in need of it.”

they man working behind the counter, looking lazy as ever, nods and disappears into the back of the shop. he never looked at you once, never spoke.

it wasn’t how you ran your shop, but if he got you what you wanted, it didn’t matter.

“oh. how nice it is to see you here,” a voice, a weirdly—familiar—voice piped up from behind you. you turn to see who it is, and your eyes immediately narrow. “oh, what, you didn’t miss me?”

“I didn’t happen to,” you hiss, turning back to face the counter.

“well.. based on what you did, I haven’t missed you quite a lot, either.” their eyes narrow, “running my fiancé out of the house, killing your own siblings! and your poor mother had to take it all because you were a little pussy and couldn’t handle it yourself.”

you’re nails were digging into the counter, the anger bubbling up inside you. It was like an erupting volcano, at this point, one you thought was bound to burst any minute.

you sigh, receiving your herbs and paying for what the shopkeeper was owed. without a word, you slip out of the herbalists shop and start down the street.

you weren’t picking a fight with someone you didn’t need to; mizu would probably be pissed if you got hurt, somehow.

“are you too afraid to talk to me?” they laugh, striking up behind you.

“I am not afraid of you. I just don’t want to pick a fight with some prick if I don’t have to,” you narrow your eyes. “and lay a hand on me, and my husband will have you dead in seconds.”

you smirk a little, feeling confident of mizu’s protection.

“husband?” they scoff. than a devilish smirk crosses their lips, “I’m sure I could have him in seconds if I tried.”

finally having enough, you grab one of your poisoned kunai’s and tossing it toward their waist. it nipped their clothes, pinning them to the wall of a shop.

“you couldn’t have jack-shit,” you grumble, gazing at them with fire in your eyes.

“hmph,” they scoff, smirking. “my, what a temper. you’re the same as your father; I doubt this mystery “husband” of yours won’t stay for long.”

the comment made your heart drop.

just.. like your father..

being compared to that abusive asshole made your blood boil.

“I am nothing like my father,” you remove the kunai from her clothes, stabbing it near her head. “and I never will be.”

gently, as if not to cut too deep, you drag the kunai against her cheek. she squirms and groans in pain, the poison dripping into the cut.

you knew it was poisoned; a strong poison. It wouldn’t take long for it to set in.

you slip the kunai back into your kimono, and stride off. you make your way back to the brothel, greeting the women at the doors with bows and soft smiles.

after doing so, you make your way to mizu and ringo, settling down beside your wife on the floor.

all you could hear was a princess threatening your husband.

you quickly slid the wave motif hairpin out of your hair, launching the pin at the princesses head.

akemi gasps, her eyes wide and her breathing heavy.

“don’t,” you raise a finger at her. ringo hands you your pin back, “talk about my husband ever again, do you hear me?”

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

a/n: mizu gifs killin’ me again 😭😭

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eyed samurai #x reader #fic #new fic #fanfic #fanfiction #request #fic request #ask #asked and answered

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anarchy-and-piglins · 6 months

Text

Technoblade knew the gods were expecting his arrival from how the path opened up to welcome him.

Trees bent away, vines with thorns burrowed into the soft ground at his approach. Techno hauled the bag with offerings up on his shoulder and carefully stepped forward.

He could feel the divinity that lingered in the air here like a physical thing, alive. It wound itself around him, before settling on his shoulders with unexpected weight. But whatever it found there must not be a bad thing. Because the path remained open and Techno found no resistance as he made his way up to the temple.

He was very aware of the fact that he was treading ground that had not seen human feet in centuries. After the gods retired, they were left alone. Nobody was dumb enough to bother a bunch of deities that had let it be known in no uncertain terms they were done quarreling in mortal affairs. Nobody, except the rulers of Techno's country.

They had come up with the grand idea to send the reclusive gods some gifts. And that - hopefully - would soften them up enough to lend an ear to their desperate plea for more power against their enemies. A plea that Techno was chosen to deliver, picked from among the regiment of royal guards for this important task.

His boots made soft, ringing noises against the marble steps. As he walked the long anteway that led into the heart of the temple, it seemed deserted. Yet Techno swore he could hear the echoes of laughter and the light music of a guitar. He could feel the gaze of curious eyes on him. The youngest of these gods, the sons of the chosen. One with a domain of mischief and fire, the other ruling over music and transformation.

Yeah, Techno was not an idiot. He had done his research.

At long last the hallway came upon the throne room. The ceiling was high enough that Techno could barely see it, only the tapestries of black silk and woven stars that gleamed from above him. The Goddess of Death looked down at him with a tepid smile. On her left, there was a chair for her husband, her angel. He lounged upon it much like a mortal would: with crossed legs and relaxed posture.

Both of them seemed pretty chill at first glance, but Techno knew how deceiving that could be. He would need to follow all codes of polite conduct if he didn't want to risk the wrath of a god who felt slighted.

So he took to one knee, the bag sliding off his shoulder onto the ground with a light thud from all the gold and precious gemstones inside. Treasures worth more than Techno could earn in a lifetime.

"Our Lady," he said, addressing the divine with the highest power. "I have come from the lands of Hypixel to humbly request you accept their gift."

A heavy silence hung over the room, Techno kept his eyes on the polished floor throughout it.

"A gift?" Her voice was clear as crystal glass, sweet as spun sugar. "Well, don't be shy then. Come closer, dear."

Techno stood and felt himself move before conscious thought was put to the action. As if it was not fully by choice. He swallowed, glancing at the bag of trinkets forgotten behind him as he stepped closer to the throne before kneeling again.

The Goddess of Death inclined her chin, looking down at him. Her eyes were deep purple. Techno felt he could get lost in them.

Then she waved her hand and before Techno could blink, the angel stood before him. His large black wings were spread behind him, though the feathers only ruffled softly when fingers settled on his chin. His face was tilted up.

"What is your name?" The angel asked.

Techno wanted to tell them it was irrelevant. He was only an envoy, here to deliver a cargo and leave. His lips were moving before that thought could properly form.

"Technnoblade, sir."

The angel's smile spread into a wicked grin. "Oh no, none of those formalities, mate. Not if we're keeping you." He looked over his shoulder. "Love, you're seeing what I'm seeing, right?"

"I do believe so," Lady Death said. Then she sighed, amused. "My, how hypocritical of us. We did tell them we wanted nothing to do with them anymore."

"They fucking knew. But they tried anyway." A thumb pressed into Techno's cheek. He knew he should be scared, in the presence of such overwhelming power. Something in his brain refused to connect. Those purple eyes watched him, read him. They saw him.

"Well, we can't fault them when the gift they send us is this perfect." When the Goddess spoke, it was with such fondness in her voice.

Techno blinked, confused. The bag of offerings was not even a blip on their radar anymore.

"Indeed," her angel agreed. He finally let go, only to pull Techno up by the elbow instead. His fingers stayed there, curled around tightly. "I will let the mortals know that we accept their gift. And that we'll take very good care of him."

---

AKA: Dark SBI AU where Techno is an envoy sent to deliver a gift to the gods. Except the gods mistake him for the gift and decide they're quite happy to keep him.

#technoblade #kristin #philza #dark sbi #shara writes

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sprout-fics · 1 year

Text

Speak Now

(Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F! Reader)

Read (Here) on AO3

Rating: Teen and up Word count: 4K Tags: Angst, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Confessions, Mutual Pining, Blood and Injury, Happy Ending Warnings: Graphic depiction of blood and injury A/N: My blog needs more Gaz love. It also needs more Gaz whump, so here, have both. (Special thank you to @moondirti for her inspiration with this story!)

When the smoke clears, all you see is him.

The catastrophic explosion of the mine still thunders in your ears, a ceaseless reverberation that your heartbeat mimics in a poor mockery. The ground shakes under your feet for what feels like eons, and somehow you remain standing, immovable amidst the chaos like a flagpole under artillery. Dust and debris sifts downwards from the solemn grey sky like ash from a distant wildfire. It clogs your nose, sticks to your throat even as your lips part, eyes widen in horror. You can taste the chalky acridity of it across your tongue. Noxious, ruinous. An omen.

Then you see him.

Laying on his side, weapon tossed feet away from him. There's shrapnel stuck in him, jutting like stalagmites from his flesh. You think the dust has settled like a thick layer over his form, dark and dusty. It takes you too long to realize it's clotting to where blood oozes from his flesh, seeping past his form and into the cracked desert ground.

He's not moving.

You scream.

You feel the air leave your chest, a gale that rises up towards the sky, but you don't hear the sound. Not when the world is falling around you like the sound of shattering glass, fragmenting into silvery, piercing shards that rip at your soul.

"GAZ!!"

Heedless of the danger, you race forward, eyes frantic, breath caught in your chest. The sane, trained, logical recess of your brain screams in protest. There could be other mines, the sound has almost certainly given away your position, there could be hostiles waiting-

An arm settles around your middle like a band of steel, catching you mid-step and hauling you backwards even as you thrash and cry out.

"NO!" A voice bellows in your ear, commanding, cracking, devastated. Price.

It doesn't make sense. He's right there. He's not moving. How could the captain stop you? You can see him breathing.

"Gaz!" Price calls, grunting as he tries to keep you from racing forward and possibly setting off another mine. "Kyle!!"

Yet Gaz doesn't respond. You see him, see his chest rise with a sharp, wet inhale before he shudders once, goes still.

Price curses, but you don't hear him. He's barking at someone you can't see because your eyes are locked on his form, on the blood trailing from the cut above his ear. His face is slumped to the other side. You can't tell if his eyes are open.

You can't tell if he's alive.

"Rookie? ROOKIE!"

Your eyes snap to the captain's, and there's fear there, barely concealed under the unflinching resolve of a leader, of the man who has to make the hard decisions to spare the rest of you. The wound of his voice is warbled, uneven, tilted in a way you don't understand. Your ears are ringing, it's too loud.

"Look at me." He orders, and you do despite the urge to let your eyes wander to the fallen form of your teammate, of Gaz. "Look at me."

He shakes your shoulders, and the jolt is enough for the rest of the world to come rushing back all at once. His face is drawn, grim, brow wrinkled in focus and distress that he's tamping down on with all his strength. When his gloved hand settle on either side of your face he pauses, draws away his fingers from your ear. There's blood.

"We're going to get him." Price tells you, ignoring the stain left it only panic you futher. You desperately try to let his words register in the hollow inside you. "But we need to stay focused, you understand me? You need to be paying attention. To me. No fuckups. Not right now, you understand?"

You nod, and the harsh, unyielding clip of his words is enough to give you the air needed to swallow down the rising panic and blink, focus on your captain. Price nods at you only once, seeing the frantic despair dimming behind your gaze. He releases you and raises his weapon, pausing just long enough for you to fall into his shadow.

"Gun up. Weapons hot. Sweep for hostiles."

You do, and the effort it takes to not let your eyes drift to Gaz's bloodied and broken body as you both approach is immense. Your footsteps fall exactly where Price's are, an instinct bred by countless hours of training overtaking you in a near-primal resolve. Your scope is clouded by smoke and debris, but there's no motion you can see even as the dust clears.

When Price seizes Kyle by his vest and drags him back to safety it leaves a grotesque, abstract smear against the ground. For a moment, your eyes linger over it, forgetting your mission and instead allowing panic to once again rise within you.

There's so much blood.

Gaz doesn't make a sound, and that's even more horrifying than if he'd been screaming, crying, whimpering from the pain. It's only once he's concealed behind a low wall that you drop your gun back to your side, hands reaching, seeking, staining with his blood. You follow Price's instructions blindly, resorting to a part of you that acts entirely automatic. Yet you can't stop looking at his face. It's drawn, ashen, eyes closed even as his chest rises and falls under your hands. There's warmth between your fingers, his heartbeat in your hands, the thrum, the gush of blood oozing past your palms-

"Rookie!!"

Price's voice feels like it's the dull, distant thrum of churning ocean waves beyond your senses. Yet you turn your eyes to him anyways, the response trained in you to stop, to listen to your captain, the lighthouse in the squall.

Yet there's a flash of something in Price's gaze you don't recognize. It's a distant, churning emotion you feel reflected in your own stare. In him it's muted by age, years of experience, the weight of knowledge. You recognize it all the same.

Fear.

You don't hear the chopper until the dust around you billows, coats the inside of your eyelids. There's hands raising you, escorting you by your arm forward towards the waiting door. It's wrong, you know. You aren't injured, you don't deserve to be on the craft. The mission is still calling for you, but it's Price who's relieving you of your weapon, giving you a firm shove into the arms of the hel-evac medic.

"Keep him alive." He bellows over the sound of the blades, and you can't tell who he's talking to, if the words are meant for you. You catch his eyes for all of a moment, and there's an acceptance, a grief there you don't understand. You raise your voice, try and reach for him, but he's gone, and the ground under you fades, shifts as the choppers vanishes into the dull, overcast sky.

---

It takes seven horrible, long, excruciating days for Gaz to blink his eyes open.

They rush him back into medical the second you are on the ground. You hold his hand up until the moment he vanishes behind the steel doors. There's an asymmetric thump of your heart you don't recognize, one summoned by the ashen pallor of his face, the way his hand goes limp in your palm.

When they take him back you're left alone behind him, standing in the far too sterile hallway of the military hospital and somehow longing for the endless familiarity of a battlefield.

You don't know if he'll make it out.

It's only hours later, when your ears stop ringing and you remain glued to a rickety metal chair just outside the operating room, that a doctor in a blood-stained apron appears before you. The look in his eyes is grave, settled with a bone deep fatigue that burrows even more severely into you as he speaks.

"He's lucky." He murmurs tiredly, lips moving as you make out the words. "Very, very lucky."

You cry, and it's only then that you realize you can barely hear your sobs.

You were less than ten steps behind him, and the blast was severe enough to have left you with a burst eardrum. A small, insubstantial wound that's treated quickly by a medic and then left alone to heal. It's nothing.

Nothing compared to him.

Shrapnel embedded on his left thigh and forearm, blunt force damage to his lungs, his spleen. His leg is broken in three different places below the knee. It's nothing short of a miracle that he didn't lose it. The blast was enough to toss him over two yards. The concussion he's suffered is impossible to gauge while he's asleep. He's lost his hearing, you think, but the doctors assure you it's only temporary.

Just as long as he wakes up.

You hardly eat. Hardly sleep. Shellshock, you're told. It's not the truth, but you don't argue. You're far too trained to let a mere mine blast unsettle you. It lets you stay with him, keeps you by his side for just a little longer. There's a part of you that gnaws at your thoughts. A guilt for allowing yourself this. You've been trained to compartmentalize, to tamper down on behalf of the mission.

For you, Gaz is the mission.

Price, the others come by. You put on a face for them, but they see it in your eyes, see that you're changed now. Now that you could lose him. Soap makes jokes, but they're cracked in his throat, bitter. You smile at them anyway. Yet Soap's eyes linger over his friend, intubated, prone, his heart a small, distant beep on a monitor.

You're dozing off when he wakes up. Hand holding his, the sound of the chopper blades and your own scream echo in your thoughts. You see him, the single breath he took before going still, the stain left by his body poisoning your dreams. When you scream you don't hear the sound, reaching for him as the chopper pulls away from his dying form laying abandoned in the beige, dusty oblivion.

He twitches in your hand, and you almost don't feel it until you hear him take a deep breath before he speaks, his voice an arrow that pierces through the mirage of your dreams.

"Hi, doll."

---

You ask Price to approve your leave.

He eyes the paperwork with a wrinkled brow, gaze hovering over the medical excuse that is nothing more than a obfuscations lie. He sees through it. You know he does, but he only nods once at you, a quiet acceptance of the truth you keep hidden, the one he doesn't speak.

You aren't ready.

Not when Gaz is barely upright and eating on his own, when your eyes threaten warmth every time he laughs and then grimaces in pain, how you hear him whimper at night when he thinks no one can hear it. It's too soon. You're too shattered, broken at the edges and raw, fumbling blindly in the dark for a balance that's abandoned you.

"We still need you." Price tells you even as he signs the paper. "-But take the time you need. Get your head on straight."

You only nod, trying to ignore the stab of guilt you feel for being so selfish in asking for this. Yet Price is right. You can't focus, you're constantly distracted, shivering at the memory of Gaz's heartbeat in your hands, pulsing red and alive with a fatal, aleatory rhythm.

Even when you're beside him it haunts you. He's getting better every day, injured, tired, but alive. He smiles every time you visit him, smile tugging on his lips, teasing and jovial in the way he is only with you. There's a tenderness beneath it you long for, craving like a wolf does the moon, letting its gentle halo shine down onto your lonely heart.

"Hi, doll."

You put on a smile for him, one that doesn't reach your eyes. He listens as you talk about Price and the others, about the idle changes at the base, of your own recovery- things that are easy, mundane, that restore a needed sense of normalcy to both your lives.

You never talk about the nightmares, the ones that flicker over your waking gaze when his face contorts in pain as he moves.

About a week in, you start bringing books for him, relish the way his eyes light up with excitement at the wrinkled paperback covers. Often you both sit in comfortable silence, involved each in your own novel, absorbing the other's presence in a steady comfort that settles the ache deep in your bones.

He turns to you one day, his hand settling over yours and you want to curl into it, bring it to your lips and whisper your fears there, confess the plague of your dreams where he no longer exists.

"Read to me?" He asks, and there's a shy, almost hesitant smile there on his lips that allows that same tenderness to seep through once again.

"I-I've got a headache." He follows, eyes averting, shoulders tense. "It's a good chapter, I want to know how it ends but I-"

You take the book from him silently, the pads of your fingers brushing delicately over his knuckles and you ignore the way he shivers.

Gaz leans back into the hospital bed, looks up at the ceiling as your voice winds words around him like a lullaby. You try your best to contain your voice over a word on the page, tracing it with your forefinger.

Grief.

---

When Gaz is finally discharged, it's like the team has won a war.

It's at a bar, quiet, solitary. You and the others take up most of the space there, with a gratuitous supply of drinks and teasing, joyful laughter from the others. Mostly it's Soap, however, trying to fill the long gaps that linger in the conversation, the constant, darkened 'what if?' that hangs over you all like churning storm clouds.

Laswell herself makes a rare appearance, and she offers Gaz a hug like she would if he was hers, long and hard and conveying more meaning than she dares to speak aloud.

Thank God. It seems to say, the sentiment echoed in your own heart. I'm so glad you didn't leave us.

There's a victory between you all, a triumph at all of you emerging whole once more. Yet you all ignore the way it's clouded with regret, a sting that's summoned every time Gaz shifts and hides a wince that you see despite his effort to conceal it.

You could have lost him. They all know. It's a reality within your work. You as soldiers glow like firecrackers. You burn brilliantly, illuminate the darkness with scorching, radiant light. Yet in the end there's a fizzle, a singe until there's only embers, pulsating red and warm until there's nothing left at all. Sometimes you're there and gone in an instant, leaving only an iridescent afterglow that lingers in the back of your eyelids.

Now Gaz seems to glow, his smile warm and pleased as the others offer him pats of congratulations, another drink, small gifts of gratitude for the simple act of staying alive.

You slide a package over to him, the wrapping paper poorly taped over, the miscut edges hidden under a bow. He opens it to the silence of the others, and you try to ignore the way their gazes hover over you knowingly, the way your eyes melt into his smile.

A book, one of your favorites. The hardback is glossy, shiny with the metallic edges of the pages and he holds it up to the light, his smile even more radiant than the glint of the golden trimmings.

"Thanks, doll." He tells you, his grin crinkling his eyes. "Dunno what I'd do without you."

You don't want to think about it, don't want to again consider a future where he's not there.

---

When you get home, off base, it's too quiet. Empty.

There's no drone of a hospital here, no beeping monitors or rapid gunfire, no whirring choppers or incoming missile strikes. It's silent in the stillness of your apartment, the air hovering, frozen as if waiting for you to breathe.

Your mind fills the void. Your dreams chase you as you wake the next morning, seeping red and hot over your fingertips, dyeing them a shade of scarlet that reeks of permanence, an unavoidable ending. Phantasma clings to the back of your nostrils, stinking of iron over the smell of candles you use to obscure it with no avail.

Outside is overcast, like it was that day, when you saw the tickle of Gaz's smile under his grim, focused expression as he stepped one foot forward-

You reach out for him in your memories, haul him back to safety within your embrace, face pressed into the hollow of his shoulders and whispering there a confession you've kept secret for far too long.

As darkness descends you're alone once more, trying to find your footing in a place you're desperately unfamiliar with, one that longs to reach out and touch him. You wander your apartment as if chasing ghosts, expecting there to be phantoms when you flick on the lights and instead realizing they're inside of you where the glow doesn't reach.

It's then that your phone pings. A message, from him.

"Can I come over?"

He shows up less than an hour later, holding aloft a bag of takeout in his uninjured arm, his face mirroring the cheesy yellow smiley face on the plastic.

"Hi doll."

You settle on the couch, watching an old spy movie that you follow with a distant gaze. Boxes of food litter the coffee table before you both, the smell wafting pleasantly enough to dull the imaginary taste of blood on your tongue. There's silence again, but it's buoyed by the steady reassurance of his presence at the other end of the couch. Your feet are propped on his lap, and the gesture feels far too intimate for the state of your wounded heart. It's an indulgence you take part in nonetheless, his hand resting on your calf, fingers drumming in an uneven beat against your form.

When the movie ends his eyes shift, he offers you a conciliatory smile.

"I guess I'll be going then." He offers, turning to excuse himself, reaching for his jacket-

Your hand catches his shirt. Gaz freezes.

"Stay." You whisper, so small you wonder if he's actually heard it. "Please."

When his brown gaze turns back to you, the only thing you see is relief, a sadness he at last bares to you, as wounded and broken as you are.

Like two small children hiding from shadows, you curl into your bed together, the sheets crumpled under both your bodies. Facing each other, you entwine your souls along the frayed edges, silently weaving yourself together within the comfort of each other.

He talks about it at last, confesses to you in the darkness the fear, the confusion, the haze of memories clouded by crimson heartbeats.

"I heard you scream." He tells you, and even now he tries to mask the crack in his voice, afraid and desperate under the resolution of a warrior. "I thought it would be the last sound I ever heard."

Your thumb brushes over his knuckles, eyes unable to meet his gaze. Warmth threatens your blinking stare, emotions simmering, boiling higher in your chest.

You're scared.

You almost lost him. If you say what you're going to, if you confess to him this secret, then you could lose him all over again. Able to touch him, able to feel his heartbeat but never again basking in that tenderness that feels too much like moonlight, serene and blissful, pale and erasing shadows.

"I thought..." You begin, voice wavering, chest catching on your next inhale, the one before the world changes around you once more. "I thought I lost you, that..." You swallow down the taste of blood, try to replace it with the sensation of your imagination, a future where his lips at last meet yours.

"I would never get the chance to say I love you."

He blinks. You don't breathe.

Then, in the silence that follows, you burst into tears.

Like the final flake of snow that summons an avalanche, you shudder, let the weight roll of off you and into your cries. Tears, hot and wet, spill freely down your cheeks, not noticing as Gaz shifts, draws you into the warmth of him to shelter you there. His hand settles on your hair, pressing you forward into his chest, where you feel him tremble. You don't see his eyes, the way they water as he tries to speak, to summon the words he needs to tell you all that he's kept hidden in the tender confines of his heart too.

Instead he shudders too, lets you cling to him like he's a raft at sea and you're lost in the violence of regret, unable to feel him around you with the simple grace of his touch.

It feels like he's dying all over again, the way he doesn't speak and instead holds you, lets you empty your sobs into his waiting palms. You think for sure that this is the final, bitter end, that he'll at last pull back, give you that sad, regretful smile, an apology, and then vanish into a future where you can no longer bask in his gentleness you dare to dream is only for you.

Instead, when your sobs fade to hiccups, when you've soaked his shirt through with your tears, Gaz at last lets his voice fills the darkness.

"You can say it now." He whispers, voice cracking with emotion. Then, after an unsteady heartbeat. "...Please."

You feel your hiccups stutter to a stop and you tense in his embrace, trying to stare through your watery gaze and process his words.

It feels like a future you never considered, one you were unable to see, so convinced were you of his fate that you didn't even dream of the possibility. Yet now his words seem like a prophecy, an omen that summons blessings, a beautiful future where his smile is met with your own.

You shift in his arms, raise your head to look at him, at last see the tears clouding his beautiful, beloved brown eyes.

"I love you." You whisper into that future, drawing it closer with every shuddering exhale. "I love you, Kyle Garrick."

That same smile, as gentle and graceful as goddess Selene, washes over you. It bathes you in radiance, summons tranquility into the fractures of your wounded heart, fills them with pale moonlight like the drape of a silvery veil.

He whispers your name, and again the world shifts around you, blurring into a kaleidoscope of color where the axis revolves around him.

"I love you too." He murmurs, his voice cracking with an unnamed joy. "I love you. I love you so, so fucking much I can't stand it."

You laugh. It's a sudden sound, one that echoes out into the midnight where you both bathe under starlight, caught in the current of each other's embrace. His lips catch against it, pressing it back into you with a tenderness that melts the core of you, threatens tears all over again.

"Say it again." He murmurs against your shuddering gasp when he pulls away.

"I love you." You tell him, your smile like the brilliance of a sunrise that dawns over a new future. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

His hand snakes down to your waist, pressing you full against his form like he's trying to eclipse you. When he kisses you again you think you taste joy on his lips, his smile curving against you and he laughs.

"I never want to leave you alone again." He tells you, and there's a longing there you recognize- a choice between both a love and duty you share. It's for a different time, a future that will come inevitably, but one you'll face together.

"Then stay." You whisper to him, and he surges into you once more, drowns you both in the benediction of adoration where war no longer exists.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle 'gaz' garrick #mw22 #cod mw22 #my fics #my writing #oneshots

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