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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

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(Day 2) Gotta be a moron to wanna be a fighter

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

Warning: Smut, Penetration (no mention of reader genitals so could feasibly be PiV or Anal depending on what you rather), lube, pinning down, dirty talk

AN: So some of you have waited a loooong ass time for this, so sorry about that, but it takes a while to do sex scenes, what can I say 👀 for those of you coming across this now or not in the loop, this is basically just a smut chapter for rocky start because I know some of you don’t read it for the smut and just like fluff. So if you do not like smut do not feel you have to read this to be caught up, there is very little plot going on and you will miss basically nothing - it’s just a catch up on what happened day 2 at the hotel! For those of you like me who love a little spice, I hope you enjoy this, I for one loved writing it 😈💕

Part 5.5 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

After drinking to a point that you were barely speaking English, it should hardly have been a surprise when you’d woken up the next day with a raging hangover. You’d unpasted your eyes, rubbing them with the backs of your hands, and rose up from the sheets slowly, blinking harshly. Surprisingly there were no visible clouds when you’d breathed out, though you still wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the goosebumps rise up like an allergy to the hopeless cold.

“Oh, so you’ve decided to wake up then?”

You startled a little as the deep voice sounded out and frowned when you looked to your side - the side where König lay with his head propped on his arm and his phone in his other hand. Ugh. You groaned and flopped down on the bed beside him, rubbing your head and feeling thoroughly sorry for yourself. It was as if tiny knives were being driven into your brain by little shrieking demons.

“Wish I hadn’t, I feel like shit,” you mumbled, ramming the heels of your hands into your eyes. “And why is it so cold in here?”

Your headache was no joke - it was piercing through your skull like a dull drill. To add insult to injury, König laughed at you loudly, the sound only compounding with the thudding pain. He watched on as you opened your eyes again, only to glare over at him in your most pathetic attempt at a show of anger.

“Well that’s what happens when you drink. And, just so you know, you don’t need to make excuses to cuddle with me anymore, Sneaky.”

“I’m not making excuses, I’m practically getting frostbitten out here,” you huffed, crawling your way over to him.

“Is that so? Well, let me see what I can do about that,” he smiled, ushering you over.

You burrowed into him, wrapping your arms around his sides and shoving your head into the middle of his chest, sighing like a displeased dog. It helped - unsurprisingly. König was like your own personal hot water bottle, his body alone was enough to abate the jittering in your limbs just by reaching out and running his hands across your arms. The petting and the cooing helped as well of course.

“I assume you’re very hungover then?”

You grunted at him.

“Oh dear. What are we going to do with you? Shall we get you a cold shower and get you outside and into the light?”

“Be gentle with me,” you pleaded, already horrified at the thought of having to go out.

“Poor little Sneaky. Are you out of commission today?”

“Not for the whole day…just for now,” you said with a grimace, nuzzling into him further.

“Alright then, you can have a moment to adjust.”

He sighed and indulged you for a few minutes more, gently tracing patterns into the back of your shirt. You hummed as he created looping shapes around your body and occasionally rubbed the knots out of your back, feeling as if you were being smoothed down into caramel. Your breaths came out slower and little by little your eyes sunk closed. Though just as you’d started to fall back asleep you were jolted awake with the gentle brush of his fingers teasing against your sides.

“Hey! Don’t you start that,” you growled.

“Start what?” König asked innocently.

“You know what! Don’t you dare tickle me.”

“Or what?” he asked, tilting his head at you with a condescending smile.

“Or I'll kick your ass.”

“You’ll ‘kick my ass’? Really?”

“Don’t test me,” you said weakly, breaking out into a yawn before you could help it.

He laughed at you till his body shook and the sound rattled around your aching skull. It disturbed your peace till you groaned, rolling off of him and over to the other side of the bed. The sheets were frosty cold, though for a split second, you were able to kid yourself into thinking you’d settle and get some more rest.

“You’re not very convincing. Maybe they should’ve called you Sleepy,” König noted, rolling you flat on your back.

He loomed over you, casting a shadow over your field of vision. His hands rested either side of you and disturbed the bed, rolling you ever so slightly as his weight shifted. It was like being in bed with a big cat.

“If I let you call me Sleepy, will you leave me alone?” you asked, rubbing the last of the tiredness from your eyes.

He pretended to think about it for a moment, his eyelashes and messy strands of hair catching odd rays of light from the lacy curtains. He shone for a moment, encased in the glistening rays before he leaned forward into the dark shadows that swallowed your side of the bed. The look of pensiveness washed from his face in an instant, resculpted into a ruthless smile.

“No, I think that you should stop being lazy and get up,” he concluded. “I’ve been lying here all morning wasting away, waiting for you. Look at me, I’m practically skin and bones.”

“Skin and bones? Are you sure?”

You softly ran your fingers against his arms as if to check if he was telling the truth and delighted in hearing the sharp intake of breath followed by his hissed complaint about your cold hands. Sweet revenge. Giving into the sinister smile that worked it’s way over your face, you then attempted to bop his nose, taking it a step further. Though that was barely a thought before your hands were pinned down above your head. Your two hands were snatched from you and captured in his one while the other steadied his shaking frame above you.

“No fair,” you pouted, trying to weakly wriggle out of his grasp.

He was far more awake than you, his body was ready to strike. Meanwhile you still felt heavy and overburdened with your recent stroke of consciousness. No match for him. Though you’d begun to doubt if you were any match for him at all in any circumstances as you came to realise that his grip was an iron shackle around you.

“You making me go hungry isn’t fair either,” he chastised, voice rumbling and deep.

You sucked in a breath and desperatley tried not to let it show how deeply his voice affected every inch of you. The low growl combined with the way he held you was awakening something within you, though you weren’t feeling reciprocal of the hunger he seemed to be talking about. It was enough to make you forget all about the pulsing in your head and drove you to baser instincts, your cheeks heating and your heart pounding.

“What’re you hungry for?” you asked, blinking slowly up at him.

You’d hoped to entice him. Coyly biting your lip and dropping your voice, trying to charm his body to slope even further into yours and take what he wanted, do what you desired.

“You want know what I’m hungry for?” He asked, voice whispering and soft.

“What?” you breathed.

“Two bacon rolls at the very least, and some fruit and- oh stop your groaning. I have needs!”

You’d lost that round.

-☠️-

König - despite ruining your fun - wasn’t a complete taskmaster. He let you slowly meander over to the bathroom and even had the decency to avoid complaining too much when it took you almost an hour to emerge from your room and meet him in the hallway. You’d milked every little second that you could to move at a snail's pace and sit at every opportunity that presented itself.

However, you’d practically had to hold your jaw in place when you finally saw him again. He’d taken a shower as well, and was standing there with his damp fluffy hair and aged Rammstein shirt as if there wasn’t an arctic chill blasting its way through the old hotel. It was ridiculous, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, tried to let that dominate your assessment of him - but nothing could stop you finding him ridiculously hot. The thought of jumping over to him and convincing him against breakfast was only stopped when he took you by surprise and grabbed your hand leading you to the stairway.��

“C’mon, or everything will be shut before we make it outside,” he’d urged, making a point to speed up his pace.

You were still taking in his appearance and controlling your rogue urges to stroke his hair and run your hands over his weather hardened body. His muscles were strained and taught and, even when you’d tried to mention that you could go back for his jacket, he’d still insisted that getting to a food source was more important. He only had one thing on his mind, and it wasn’t going to be overridden by the weather or any of the urges you had.

He was nothing if not persistent - something that you were grateful for every time you got the opportunity to lean into him. Smelling the fresh citrusy body wash he’d used while you caressed his arm, you dazedly walked beside him and let him take you to breakfast, nothing more than a passenger along for his ride. A ride that you could hardly complain about, he let you cuddle into him in the booth at breakfast and wrapped his arm around you while you’d waited for food to come. Your cure.

It was important that you’d gotten a good breakfast and fixed yourself up, it prepared you for your mission ahead - sneaking snacks into the hotel without the old bat at reception seeing. Even after a feast fit for several kings, König was still peckish and you’d bought a whole bagful of chocolate and pringles and cookies to ensure you’d avoid being dragged out again. After all, you didn’t want any interruptions to your movie day.

“Happy now?” König asked, stroking your cheek.

You’d gone to your room first and he’d thrown your bag of goods up to you through the window. That was how you’d found yourselves wrapped up and back in your bed again, occasionally munching on snacks while nuzzling into him. Rocky 2 played quietly from your tablet, propped carefully on the flimsy bed stand and served as a nice lazy day movie to cuddle up to. König’s body was nice and soft, and now that you weren’t drunk or hungover you could fully appreciate every contour and soft muscle as he flexed and shifted with his ever present restlessness.

“Very happy actually,” you hummed contentedly.

“Good,” he murmured.

You sighed and watched the movie for a little longer before you’d begun to get distracted. Your eyes had strayed from the screen and onto König’s face. Sharp ridges and little scars were catching your gaze, his sparkling eyes were fixed on the screen, reflecting the moving figures. They hadn’t caught onto your staring yet, which you’d realised all too late was getting a little too gratuitous, so you quickly cast your gaze down toward his T-shirt.

It felt like your head had been filled with cotton. Your hand snaked out and dragged over to the centre of his chest where the fading chunky white letters on his T-shirt were burning holes into your vision - forcing you to mindlessly trace them. You were simpering away while you did it, obsessing over the thought of kissing him. It wasn’t like it’d be the first time, but for some reason you felt too shy to just do it. Perhaps because the only times you’d done it before the moment had been right for it, filled with passion.

This was a different situation entirely. This felt almost…domestic? The air was calm and there was no pulsing static and roaring flames crying passion, you were just lounging in bed together like a long established couple, cosily intertwined. Would it be ok? Would he want you to kiss him out of the blue?

“What are you thinking about?”

You jolted and hazarded a quick look back up at his face, not missing his sly smile. Mind Reader. You bit your lip and finished your ridgid path across the soft second M of Rammstein, shrugging.

“Tell me,” he urged, pinching your hip.

“Not if you do that again,” you laughed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Alright...tell me then.”

“You have to promise not to laugh.”

“I promise I’ll try not to,” he said seriously, smiling when your eyes slitted further.

You held eye contact for a moment longer, but soon chickened out when you finally decided to tell him what you’d been thinking about. You hoped he wouldn’t think you were being silly for getting all shy about something you’d already done before, as if you weren’t cuddled up to him bed and stroking his chest with no issue.

“I wanna kiss you,” you mumbled.

He was quiet for a second before he exhaled, the rush of his breath coming down warm on your cheeks.

“Why would I laugh about that?”

You looked back up at him and shrugged again, feeling a nervous grin tug at your lips. Even knowing who he was, knowing so many of his habits and flaws and humanity, there was something so intimidating and untouchable about him. No matter what you’d done before.

“Because I was too shy to just do it,” you explained, cheeks heating to boiling temperature. “I’m getting all silly and in my head about it.”

“It's cute that you’re so shy all of a sudden,” he rumbled. “But I hope you know that you can kiss me whenever you’d like.”

Your lip was getting sensitive now, teeth grazing harshly against your swelling flesh. Chills stole their way through your back and sent your limbs shaky as you crawled up to meet his face. Suddenly the room felt like it was a hundred different temperatures all at once.

“Thought we weren’t allowed to use the word cute,” you challenged.

“Only when it’s directed at me.”

You rolled your eyes. He tsked at you - your only warning before he quickly rolled you both over and held you down with the weight of his body. His lower half completely secured you to the shrieking mattress while his arms flanked your sides, a firm reminder that you weren’t going anywhere. It had you swallowing a difficult breath and shifting your legs, adjusting to the tingles that were coursing through your body.

“I don’t think you like me being cute all that much really... I think really you like it better when I’m like this,” he said, his sultry voice like smooth honey to your ears. “Whenever I have you under me, you always look like you’re trying to hold yourself back.”

Freezing temperatures be damned, you were practically sweating through the sheets listening to his voice drop so low. Your eyes felt too full as you took him in, eyelids drooping to compensate for your blown out pupils. You could feel your lashes dancing across your skin like flustered butterflies.

König watched as you adjusted your hands, eyes flicking and following your movements like a hunter. You pushed yourself up and weakly rose, wrapping your arms around his tensing back and pressing your fingers into the bobbling old fabric of his Shirt. That had to go, you thought. This was going to be so much more than a simple kiss, you’d decided, you were ready.

“You’re right. Definitely like this,” you whispered.

With a newly discovered confidence, you met his lips and kissed him deeply. Your head pulsed and throbbed as stars burst across the darkness and pierced through the veil of your eyelids like a firework show. Your chest felt like it was being crushed as you melted against him, the pressure too much, your combined heartbeats creating a frenzy. His mouth was so perfect and his tongue twisting around yours was driving you wild, it had you moaning, a sirens call pervading the room.

The moment lasted as if a spell were cast. As if you were both trapped in time and held close forever in your kiss, melted within an abstract portrait of impossible feelings and highs. Mind scrabbling, you slowly lay back, breaking the kiss and let your hands wander to his sides, coming to the hem of his T-shirt and lifting it slightly, stroking the soft flesh underneath.

“What are you doing?”

Hearing König’s voice snapped you out of your stupor and you giggled, pursing your lips like you’d done something bad. You’d certainly thought of bad things, even if you were only trying to lift his shirt…

“Want to feel you,” you mumbled.

“Oh…I see,” he murmured, quirking his lips and perching his head onto his hand.

He rolled to his side and shifted his weight onto the arm that now dug into the bed beside you, tipping you closer toward him. It was just another reminder of how much of him there was, the sheer size of him. You wanted him so bad, it was the only thought you were capable of thinking as you scrambled to sit up and meet his gaze.

“I need more.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you repeated dazedly.

“Are you sure?” He asked, voice a little more tentative.

“What do you mean, am I sure?” you giggled, body screaming out for him to get back to work. “Of course I’m sure! Are you sure?”

He licked his lips and looked off to the side for a moment, as if some cue cards might appear over by the window. Rocky continued to play in the background - the scene where he goes to the press conference and Creed tears into him. You let out a little exhale of laughter when you hear Stallone talking about snowcones and it draws König’s attention squarely back to you. His eyes are unreadable tomes, he looks like he could be about to say anything which has you holding your breath and unwittingly freezing in place.

“Don’t get me wrong, I want this more than anything but…most of the time whenever I do this- uh, whenever I’ve been with people, they’ve…not been people I’ve really known or cared about, but I really care about you. I don’t want to rush things or do something wrong, you know?”

He barely breathed as he made his confession, his face filled with consternation all the way from his pursing lips to the bob of his adam’s apple. Despite that though, a flood of relief washed through you. He wasn’t pausing because he didn’t want you, he was just getting in his head about things too. Rightfully so, when you knew that deep beneath the cool hard exterior, König had a lot of anxieties buried underneath it all, spackled behind thick walls.

You weren’t sure of the extent of his insecurities, but you knew that you wanted to help to break down those walls in any way you could. With that in mind, you cupped your hand on his cheek and stroked it with your thumb, grazing it along the golden line of his stubble while you looked at him straight in his searching eyes.

“König, I really do want to do this with you and I don’t think you’d do anything that I didn’t want. I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of time I’ve spent thinking about this without sounding like a creep,” you laughed, watching as he dropped his tensed shoulders and seemed to shed his anxiety like a robe. “I’ve wanted this for so long, but especially when you showed up at that bar and finally showed me your face and your arms, I just-”

You trailed off and withdrew from him, suddenly getting self conscious as you realised you were about to vomit out your fantasies to him. It seemed like a good idea when you’d started speaking and then all too quickly you realised how embarrassing it was to say what you were going to say. Though, unluckily for you he wasn’t letting you off easy.

“What do you think about my arms?” he laughed, face finally relaxing into an easy smile again.

“I think that they’re nice,” you said weakly, throat drying like the sahara.

“Oh yeah? What is it about them that’s nice?” he asked with a glint in his eye.

“I um…oh god,” you laughed, taking your turn to look away.

He laughed in turn, but instead of letting you have your moment with the invisible sitcom audience, he turned your face with his hand and stared you down with renewed purpose. Suddenly the simmering flame had been brought back to boil and you were feeling your heart begin to stutter again.

“I want to know what you like, I want to give you everything you want,” he pleaded, making your legs go shaky. “I need you to tell me all those thoughts you’ve been thinking about me so that I can make you feel good.”

You could’ve passed away and gone to heaven there and then. His voice was so soft, but there was no mistaking the urgency in it. He was tense, filled with kinetic energy that was bursting to release, you could see it in the way he just barely shook, heart thrumming in his chest, could feel it crackling in the air around you.

“I like to think about you pinning me underneath you…like you were doing before.”

“Oh yeah?” he urged, shifting so that he could assume his position. “And what else? Tell me.”

You took a raspy breath and continued staring up at him while your body lay prone.

“I want you to take control, I want you to hold me…and grab me,” you breathed, utterly possessed by the idea you could make your fantasies come true. “I want you to kiss me again, König.”

His eyes were so dark, he looked feral. His jaw twitched as he listened to you and just before his lips were colliding with yours again, you took a moment to admire the way you’d undone him. Tracking the way his gaze raked over you, you widened your eyes as his hands gripped the sheets like they were the reins to a bucking stallion. You rose from the bed and met him, tongue darting out to his once more.

König leaned over a little more, his knees dropping so that his body lowered over you, securing you in your position. You could feel barely a portion of his chest on you, but still it was like having a bear act as your weighted blanket. Though even then, his kiss was never too forceful. His lips synced with yours in a perfect harmony and his hands brushed up your arms and traced the curve of your neck in a feathery caress.

“You’re like heaven,” König hummed.

You tipped your head back and moaned in turn as he pressed a kiss to your cheek then continued to trail them from your jaw, down your neck and grabbed your shirt, tugging it aside so he could kiss your collarbone. He lit little fires with every kiss, his breath tickling your flesh and setting off a flare of goosebumps. Your breaths were coming out whiny, filling the room like restless spirits.

“König, more…take it off please…”

You were begging, voice overflowing with desperation as you clawed at the hem of his shirt again. He laughed softly, but König must have been feeling benevolent because he didn’t make you wait much longer. He pushed himself up into a kneeling position and towered over you, pulling his shirt up over his head like a parachute and abandoning it behind him.

“Is that better?” he asked innocently.

You held your breath for a moment and felt your eyes almost vibrate as you drank him in. Even though you’d been cuddled up with him for a good portion of the day, you were still in disbelief when you finally saw what he looked like underneath the shirt. You were forced to bite your lips so as not to squeal. He was the kind of man that inspired statues, from the defined pecs and abs to his soft belly, he was beautiful.

“How do you look so fucking good?” you groaned.

He snorted at that and shook his head.

“You overreact everytime you see more of me. Are you going to faint if I take my trousers off?”

“I wouldn’t rule that out,” you squeaked, not even beginning to imagine how you’d cope.

He rolled his eyes at you, not losing his smile for a second. Secretly, he was loving the attention, loving how much you fell for every inch of him. The moan that he let out when you ran your hand down his sternum spurred you on, showing you just how much he enjoyed the worship.

“You’ll have to even things out, of course,” he said breathlessly, looking at you with purpose.

You bit your lip and looked down toward your own chest for a second, before sitting upwards to meet him. Your top layers were off in seconds, a new record, abandoned to the other side of the room like rags. Before König could get a chance to take you in you were kissing him again and urging him to keep going, drawing his head back to your neck, gasping as he gently grazed you with his teeth.

His growls rang in your ears and pulsed all the way down your spine and to your legs, sending you shaking. Animalistic pants and noises were all that filled the room as you both explored each other, running your hand over bumpy scars, course hair and soft skin, kissing the thick expanse of his body when you could. Your senses were filled with him and only him, citrus and musk and muscle all combining to form a catalyst that soon had you crawling onto his lap and bucking against him for friction.

“You need this don’t you?” he said softly and slowly, dragging out each word with a groan. “Does that feel good? Does it feel good using me like that?”

Your heart beat triple time - you were barely able to respond to him. He was gripping your thighs and teasing his hand over your crotch in small intervals, delighting in the noises you made when he touched you just right. It was the best kind of agony feeling him through the thick material, had you aching to get it all off.

“Feels sooooo good,” you moaned.

You stared into his eyes, watching as he smiled and gripped the back of your neck, forcing you to keep eye contact with him

“I like it when you look at me like that. I love your beautiful doe eyes, looking at me so hungry. You look like you’re so ready for me. Do you want more?” he rumbled.

“Yes! More, please König please! I feel like m’ on fire,” you cried out, only barely coherent. “Please, I need you to fuck me.”

He laughed mournfully at that,, the kind that suggested he had bad news. The kind that said he’d love to indulge you, but not yet.

“I don’t have condoms with me,” he groaned.

“I do,” you grunted, separating from him for a moment.

You leaned back and fumbled with the bedside table, knocking your tablet down loudly just as Rocky landed a punch, and pulled out a couple of foil packets from the drawer and a bottle of lube. It was as if you’d performed a magic trick, König went from looking regretful to looking stunned then finally settled on holding a sly smile.

“Have I ever mentioned how often you surprise me?” He muttered, not hesitating in taking the paraphernalia from you.

“No, but you can tell me all about it after,” you moaned.

König bit his lip, trapping the smile that clearly wanted to break loose. He was completely entranced by you. Instead of laughing at how feral you’d grown, he set to work unbuttoning your trousers and pulling them off of you, taking everything with them until you were fully naked and on display. He tilted his head downward and blinked slowly, looking like he was in disbelief at your body.

“You’re perfect,” he sighed.

Blood rushed to your face like a tidal wave, and you broke your stare for a moment of respite. He was so intense, looking at you like a stalking wolf does a deer. Your chest felt thick with anticipation, not even in the least bit prepared for what was coming. He continued to hold you, one arm wrapped around you while the other was occupied, busy with what was to come.

You gasped as he lubed up his fingers and began to slowly and painstakingly circle them around your entrance. He played with you, barely letting his sights leave your face. He clearly got off your stilted breaths, watching as you adjusted to the cold gel, moaning as he listened to the noises you made with a blissed out smile on his face.

“You sound so pretty,” he purred. “Keep making those beautiful noises for me, yeah?”

You groaned in response, not able to give him much more.

Finally when you were prepared enough, he easily slipped a finger inside of you and stretched you out, gently plunging it back and forth before adding another. He mixed up his motions, massaging you and curling his fingers and creating a rhythm that had your ears filling with pulsing fuzz and thighs shaking like you’d been labouring for days. You cried out for him, begging him to fuck you, repeatedly telling him ‘please’ and whimpering when he just smiled at you and shook his head, eventually adding another finger.

“Please König, need to feel you…”

“These are my fingers are they not?” he said, chuckling meanly.

“Not what I meant!” you huffed, collapsing into his chest with a particularly hard thrust. “I want your cock! I want you to fuck me König!”

He snarled out a sigh and withdrew his digits, then kissed you, silencing your begging with his harsh mouth and tongue while he fiddled with his belt and buttons. After a few seconds he was parting from you again, lip dripping with spit, and rucked down his trousers and boxers in one. He pulled at them harshly and tossed them aside just like everything else.

“Tell me again,” he uttered.

You drunkenly looked him over and had to double take when you saw him playing with his cock, generously coating the huge length of it with lube, getting himself ready for you. That was what he’d been (somehow) hiding this whole time! Before you could do anything to help it, your mouth hung open and you let out the most pathetic noise you’d ever made, a low lustful whimper.

“Oh, you like that do you?” He chuckled.

“It’s so big,” you said wondrously, voice fading into nothing.

“Mhmm…you ready to take all this?” he smirked, pumping upward and opening his hand so that you could see the full hard length of it. “Don’t be shy, tell me how much you want it.”

“Oh god.”

You were so lost that you couldn’t even respond properly to his question, his soothing tones too gentle to register. It was going to be a struggle. You were going to feel every inch of it filling you up like a bed post, it was so impossibly long and thick to a degree that it filled even König’s hand. Though, still that didn’t deter you from bucking your hips against him like an animal in heat, welcoming him to ease it inside of you.

“C’mon, I want to hear you say it again,” König ordered. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you all but gasped.

“Fuck me?” he repeated back. “You can - ah- do better.”

He was gritting his teeth, his body straining as he tried to keep himself together. The speed of his hand was picking up its pace and you whined, feeling like you were taking on some kind of punishment. You would feel far better than his hand did, why wouldn’t he just fuck you already?

“Fuck me, König! I need you to fuck me with your big cock,” you whined.

“Oh, yes,” he growled, “I love hearing my name like that. Come here, let me take care of you.”

He wrapped his arms around you and ushered you over his lap, dragging you both to the edge of the bed so that he could set his legs on the ground. You squeaked as his hands gripped harshly at your hips and lined you up with his cock, breaking his hold for a second while he teased his tip at your entrance, gently guiding you down onto it as if it weren’t going to split you in half.

“S’already so much,” you moaned, loudly exhaling into the cavernous room. “You’re so big König.”

“Shh, it’s ok,” he soothed, bracing his forehead against yours. “You just need to take it slowly, yeah? Let me guide you.”

“It’s too much,” you cried out, wrapping your arms around him. “But it feels…s- so good.”

You dug your fingers into the soft flesh of his back and buried your head into his hard shoulder. A rush of hot tears were welling in your eyes, it felt like you were going to sob as you were fucked down further onto him. Though still, you were lightly bucking your hips back and forth, easing yourself further down and moaning in joy in how he perfectly filled you, how good the growing pressure felt, the burning tension in your thighs and in your stomach.

Your breaths sped out quick and uneven and you dug your fingers into the ridges of his back all the more, unknowingly carving tiger stripes down the length of him. You were both seething, but neither of you tried to pull away, instead you only got closer, feeling like you’d been sucked into a black hole when he finally bottomed out, your atoms spread into a breeze.

“There, doesn’t that feel good?” he asked, sighing deeply against your shoulder. “You feel so tight around me, you feel perfect.”

“Mhmm,” you whimpered.

“I need you to tell me how good it feels. C’mon,” he encouraged, gently rubbing your back. “Tell me.”

“I feel…so full. Feels so big - but - but it feels so good,” you cried out, feeling as if you had nothing left in your head.

“Oh yeah? You look so good like that, all dazed,” König murmured. “I want to savour this, remember how you look when I’m on base. I’m going to feel the ghost of you clenching around me when I’m in my room, you know that?”

You were clenching just at the thought! Humming when you heard him hissing in pleasure. His eyes were just as drunk as yours, drooping full of lust, a perfect mirror. He grinned just slightly, then gripped your hips tighter, forcing you up before bringing you back down again. You both panted and groaned, taking in the sensations zipping through your bones and burning flesh.

It started off slow at first, König gently fucked you, letting you get used to his girth. You’d barely seen dildos that compared to the size of his cock, let alone experienced anyone fucking you like that before. It had you tipping your head back and parting your lips, whimpering up into the air like a pathetic wolf howl. He groaned and growled over you, breathing quicker and quicker as he increased his pace. He slowly but surely set himself into a rhythm, setting his head on your chest and teasing one of your taught nipples with his flickering tongue.

You were wailing, gripping onto his shoulders with one hand and threading your fingers through his damp hair with the other. He got faster, pulling in and out of you and sending your heart into overdrive. A warzone could’ve broken out around you both and you’d hardly notice over the booming of your hearts, the creaking of the bed, and the lewd sound of his thrusts against your slicked up flesh. Every stroke set off a new wave of fireworks inside you, a hand would lift from your hips and stroke you between your legs, only acting as a catalyst to the growing explosion. Your belly grew tighter and tighter as an orgasm stirred to life, crackling and sparkling at the base of your stomach.

Though, just as you were hitching your breath, preparing to let go within a matter of minutes, you both were brought to a halt. Footsteps loudly crashed across the flooring outside and a hushed conversation ensued between two older sounding people, something about a strange noise they were hearing. How fucking curious.

“Geh scheißen!”

You giggled a little at König’s hissed curse and watched as his eyes took on a thunderously dark shade, looking like he was going to go out there and strangle the couple for their interruption. Rather than let him get too worked up however, you decided to take action and gently eased yourself off of him with a soft groan, soon feeling horribly empty. Once the couple seemed to retreat again you made your move, grabbing the edge of the mattress.

He frowned at you, looking evermore confused as you gestured for him to get off the bed, but he complied with your order. Soon enough it was apparent what you were doing and he assisted, dragging the mattress off of the noisy frame with a thud. The further interruption had you both pausing, listening out for the couple’s return, but they never showed. They left you alone in the ringing silence.

“C’mon, looks like it’s safe,” you grinned, lowering yourself onto all fours

“Oh it’s like that, is it?” König snorted, watching you assume your stance.

“What? You don’t like doggy?” you asked, wiggling your butt at him teasingly.

“Didn’t say that,” he corrected, picking up the lube again and reapplying it generously to his swollen cock. “I just like to look at you… you looked so pretty when you’re getting fucked. I like seeing you cock drunk and broken against me.”

You twitched as he told you that, pursing your lips in a ridiculous show of chaste embarrassment. You both knew you weren’t that innocent, but hearing him say filthy things like that had you dissolving under his gaze like powdered sugar in hot water.

“Unfortunately you’ll have to be a little quieter now,” he sighed, finally coming down to kneel behind you. “I’ll miss those moans of yours.”

He sounded almost comically wistful.

“My moans-” you began, outraged at the idea that it was you alone contributing to the racket.

“Your moans and whimpers, yes. It’s - ugh - a wonder you ever…got called Sneaky,” he chuckled, cutting you off as he eased back into you. “You’re so loud and responsive for me. Can’t wait to hear you cum.”

You both groaned when he’d plunged his cock back down to the base - you from the sensation and the dirty things he’d said to you. Though, before you could make a rebuttal, or moan any louder, he curled himself over you, melding his stomach to your back while wrapping one of his big arms around, covering your mouth tightly with his hand. He had you secured against him, stuffing you full of him and trapping you with nowhere to go. Not that you’d want to be anywhere else.

“You like this, hm?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, not able to get anything else out past his hand.

“Good. Because even if someone beats down that door and watches, I won’t stop fucking you until we’re both spent,” he warned.

You clenched hard around him and heard his breath of laughter as he felt the shockwaves of it.

“You’re so dirty!” he purred, beginning to slowly thrust again. “I love it.”

He didn’t take as long to work up to his punishing pace this time. You whined muffled moans behind his hand, but very little noise sounded around the room beyond the gentle squeaking of the mattress springs and König’s whispered growls that tickled by the back of your neck. He sent your body wild with the things he said. Every word felt as if it zipped straight from your ears and down between your legs, your whole body electrified with the pulsing thrill.

You feel so good around me, fuck, so tight!

Your body was made for me. You’re so perfect.

You’re mine.

You’re only mine, no one else can have you now. You’re mine!

You panted hard around him, could feel your breath ricocheting off of his fingers. The room felt like it was caving in around you, stars sparkling around your vision until you closed your eyes, embracing the fizzing sensation that grew from the back of your skull until it filled your head. The tight coil inside you was waiting to burst, you were ready to let go, could feel yourself crumbling over the edge.

After a few more hard thrusts König could feel you going, he could hear the desperate whining that escaped from his hand and groaned. He fucked you with purpose, lengthening his thrusts and plowing into you harder, catching your sweet spot and getting you closer and closer.

“Let me feel you cum...I need it. Cum for me, Come on, cum for me,” he commanded.

Somewhere down the line you obeyed and let go, seeing a white hot screen seer your vision behind your closed eyelids, and feeling the warmth wash through you in an explosion. You moaned out loudly even despite your haphazard gag and sighed as the fire drowned down to a tingling ache that was allowed to settle only after you felt König chase his own release, sloppily thrusting until he ground to a halt, growling out a strangled moan.

Both of you collapsed shortly after that, rolling onto your backs like two animals that had brought each other to mutual destruction. Pants filled the air, the smell of sex and citrus intermingling, breath spilling out uncontrollably while you both fought to regulate your bodies, taking in the sensations that still tingled around your centres as aftershocks.

You sighed and turned to König smiling when you caught his blissed out expression, you’d never seen him so relaxed before. His hair was messily splayed out all over his head, practically glued to one side as it had likely stuck together from your clawing fingers. Then when you cast your gaze downward, you could see that veins had popped up all over his arms, his whole body puffed up while his skin burned hot with effort. He was aglow with bliss and seemed so cherubic lying there all splayed out and relaxed.

“So that was pretty good,” you whispered, disturbing his rest when you came to cuddle at his side.

He mumbled something in German and wrapped his arm back around you, tucking his head in against yours. A breath of laughter rushed past your lips.

“Is it your turn to forget English now?” you teased.

He paused for a moment, groaning tiredly.

“I said that I thought it was more than pretty good,” he said after a moment, curling into your side.

“You’re right,” you grinned. “Best I’ve ever had.”

You could feel his lips twitching into a grin at that. König’s whole body resonated with the compliment, you could feel him getting puffed up with the praise. It took him a while to return the favour and tell you he thought the same, but he cottoned on eventually. It had you both chuckling, though soon you both came to a rest, relaxing in each other's arms and napping a little until König started to shift after a bit, drowsily making his way into a standing position.

You gasped when you opened your eyes.

“What?” he asked, turning to look at you.

“Your back,” you whispered, drawing your hands over your mouth.

König raised his brows in question and wandered over to the mirror, taking heavy clumsy steps over to it. He turned and viewed the damage, shoulder blades rolling as he inspected the thick scratches that had snaked their way down his body like he’d been attacked. He caught your eyes in the mirror and grinned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself in a way you’d never seen before.

“Thought you’d mark me up and claim me as your own did you?”

Next part here

#König #König x reader #konig x reader #konig #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2 #a rocky start

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vbecker10 · 2 years

Note

Hi I was jw if you could do a Loki x reader where they have a huge fight and then reader leaves for a mission to only come back injured. Loki is given a note from her apologizing to him and when she wakes up he takes care of her apologizing as well? Super duper fluffy ending?

Hey anon!! I have two asks that have very similar ideas so I'm doing them together. I'm sorry if it took me so long to get to it that you sent it again but I really do love this idea. I changed a little bit of it and kinda combined both asks. Hopefully it was worth the wait 💚

That's Not What I Meant

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Warnings: arguing, angst, injury, lots of fluff

Summary: You and Loki have an argument but before the two of you can resolve it, you are called away on a mission for a few days. You return from the mission injured and still hurt by what Loki said before you left but he is determined to show you how much you truly mean to him.

A/N: I threw in Halloween stuff cause it's October so why not right 🎃 lol... also, as usual this got away from me and is way longer then I intended 🤷‍♀️

"Its October first!" you say as you flip the calendar on your kitchen wall excitedly. "Do you know what that means?" you turn towards Loki.

He looks up from the coffee maker, "I would say its Saturday but I imagine that's not the answer you are looking for."

"Its Halloween!" you answer with a wide smile. He rolls his eyes but you catch a glimpse of him smiling before he turns back to face the counter. You move to stand behind him and put your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back.

He shakes his head and chuckles softly while he pours the fresh coffee into two mugs. "I was under the impression that Halloween was on the last day of the month, not the first," he says.

You groan, letting go of him so you can lean your back against the counter next to him. You look up at him, crossing your arms and say, "Technically yes but... we can do Halloween stuff all month."

He takes a sip of his coffee, "A whole month seems a bit unnecessary. Surely one day is enough."

"It absolutely is necessary!" you tell him, a bit louder than you expected to.

He raises an eyebrow then waves his hand for you to continue. "Very well. What did you have in mind, darling?" he asks.

"Everything... Some of the parks here do hayrides, corn mazes and apple picking. I've always wanted to go apple picking, maybe Wanda could teach me how she makes those mini apple crumbles," you say and Loki smiles, you know how much he loves any type of dessert he can get his hands on. "There are tons of haunted houses we can visit of course," you add.

"Of course," he nods dramatically in agreement which causes you to laugh.

"Oh and I feel like you would like pumpkin carving," you say and he tilts his head curiously. "Because you know..." you make a stabbing motion, "Knives and such."

"That seems acceptable," he laughs then leans forward to kiss you briefly. "Anything else, love?"

"Can't forget watching horror movies with lots of junk food and cuddles or scaring everyone on the team," you tell him.

"How could I say no to either of those?" he smiles as he puts his coffee mug on the counter and moves closer to you. He slips one arm around you and you lean against his chest, looking up at him. "It'll be hard to pick a favorite activity but I don't think you can beat scaring the others," he says with a mischievous grin.

You hit his chest lightly, "Want to try picking a favorite again?"

He kisses the top of your head, "Pumpkin carving?"

"You're the worst," you giggle as you pull free. "The correct answer is horror movies and cuddles, obviously. Just for that, I'm picking out our costumes for Stark's party."

His mood shifts suddenly as the playful smile leaves his lips. He picks up his coffee mug and takes another sip. "There's no need for you to do that," he says in a serious tone, "I won't be attending the party." With that, he turns and walks out of the kitchen.

"You don't want to go?" you ask as you follow him into the living room.

He sits on one end of the couch and sets his mug on the coffee table. "Y/N, you know I don't go to Stark's parties. I never have and I see no reason to start now," he says without looking at you.

"I thought we could go together," you say with a hopeful smile.

He picks up his book from the side table and open its, "Why would you think that?"

"Because it would be fun?" you ask, feeling more unsure of yourself with every passing moment.

He looks up at you briefly and then back to his book. "I doubt very much it would be," he says.

You stand across from him in silence, hurt by the thought that Loki didn't even want to consider going with you. Loki has never been one to socialize with the team voluntarily but you had been excited about the idea of finally having a date to one of Stark's parties.

"I know we've only been dating a few months but... I guess I just assumed you would want to go with me," you say quietly.

"Don't Midgardians have a saying about assuming things?" he asks as he turns the page of his book.

"Well, yea..." you put your mug on the coffee table. "Can you not read while we're talking?"

"You know I'm perfectly capable of holding a conversation and reading at the same time," he says without looking up, you wrap your arms around yourself and don't respond. He finally looks up and slides his bookmark between the pages before setting it on the table. "Better?" he asks in a sarcastic tone.

"Oh, is it rude of me to want you to pay attention to me when I'm talking?" you ask, unable to hide your growing annoyance.

"There is nothing to talk about. I have told you I'm not going," he says. "You're more then welcome to go to that ridiculous event alone." He sits back and opens his book again.

"Its not ridiculous," you argue back but he doesn't acknowledge you as he turns the page.

"And I don't... I don't want to go alone. I want to go with my boyfriend. What's wrong with that?" you ask.

"Are you really going to just ignore me now?" you ask when he continues to read silently.

"I'm not ignoring you, I'm just done with this conversation," he says as he flips the page.

"That's not how conversations work-" you say, rolling your eye sarcastically.

"I don't want to be with you Y/N," Loki says in a harsh tone as he slams the book closed.

You instantly take a step back as his words hit you. He stands up quickly, dropping his book as moves towards you. "Go, I meant I don't want to go with you," he tries to correct himself but your mind has already latched onto those words.

"You... don't..." you whisper as you stand in front of him in disbelief, shaking your head slowly.

"No, no. That's not what I meant," he repeats. "Y/N, I didn't mean that."

He reaches for your arm and you pull away from him. "But you said it," you say, you feel as if you're heart is physically breaking. "Why would you say that?" you ask, close to tears.

"Y/N, I-" Loki starts to explain but is cut off by the sound of your phone ringing from the other room.

You turn from him and walk back to the kitchen to answer it. Loki follows you and tries to take your hand but you turn from him. You purposefully stare at your feet while on the phone to avoid looking at Loki who is growing increasingly upset and nervous.

When you hang up from your call with Agent Hill you ask, "Can you please leave? I have to be ready to take off for a mission in twenty minutes and I-"

"Y/N, I'm not leaving until we talk," he shakes his head. He attempts to close the distance between the two of you again and this time you don't move away. You keep your eyes fixed on the ground as tears begin to surface. He touches your cheek lightly but you still don't look up.

"That's not what I meant," he says again and you nod slowly, your heart believes him but your mind won't let go of this words so easily. "Please look at me," he pleads but you can’t.

"I have to get ready," you tell him again in a hushed voice.

"Can we talk when you get back?" he asks and you mumble ok in response. He kisses the top of your head lightly and says, "Be safe, Y/N."

(Three days later)

You limp slowly down the long corridor and find yourself standing in front of Loki's door. You can tell he's awake, most likely reading, when you see the light creeping out from under the door even though it's just past one in the morning.

You stand there frozen for a moment. All you want to do is feel his arms wrap around you but every time you picture him, you hear his voice echo. He said he didn't want to be with you and although he quickly took it back you just couldn't shake it. His words had burned themselves into your thoughts and refused to leave.

You try to take a deep breath and feel a searing pain spread through your left side. You look down at the brace on your left knee and rub your left arm, just above where the cast was set. Shaking your head, you turn to drag yourself the rest of the way down the hall to your room to sleep.

You get a few feet away when you hear Loki's door open and you stop but don't turn. "Y/N, welcome back," he says quietly.

You can feel your heartbeat picking up at the sound of his voice and you can't help but smile a bit. "I've missed you, love," he says, you can hear he's stepped out into the hall.

"I missed you too," you tell him as you turn to face him. You watch as his eyes move up and down your body, filling with concern.

"Y/N, are you alright? What happened?" he asks, standing close to you. You shrug and tell him that the mission was ultimately successful but you were thrown during an explosion at the Hydra base. You had broken your arm and sprained your knee, in addition to being covered in bruises. You tell him you're exhausted and just want to lay down.

He reaches out and takes your hand, "I know you're tired darling, but come with me." You look up at him quietly, he gently strokes your cheek. "Let me take care of you," he says in a soothing voice.

You smile sleepily and nod, absolutely nothing could sound better then letting Loki look after you right now. No matter what he said before you left, you were still completely in love with him, although you had never been brave enough to say it. You squeeze his hand lightly and he leads you back to his room.

Once inside, he closes the door quietly and picks you up careful not to hurt your side or leg. You let out a small laugh in surprise as he carries you bridal style into the living room. "I can walk," you tell him but you make no attempt to be put down.

"Not without being in pain it seems," he answers in a caring tone.

You wrap your good arm around his neck a bit tighter and kiss his cheek lightly without thinking. He smiles when he looks down at you but you can see it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes are red and glassy, his normally silky smooth hair appears slightly tangled and you've never seen his clothing wrinkled before.

You look around as he carries you through his apartment. His space is usually meticulously neat but there are books messily piled on the end table and floor. You notice a pillow and blanket from his bed have been moved to the couch and there are several empty mugs on the coffee table. He walks through the living room and into his bedroom where the bed you've shared is made perfectly, expect for the missing pillow. You realize its the pillow from your side of the bed that's been moved to the couch.

As if he is reading your thoughts he says, "I haven't been able to sleep without you."

You close your eyes, hold him tighter and whisper, "I'm sorry, Loki." You knew how hard the last few days had been for you but you are quickly seeing how badly it had affected Loki as well.

He kisses your forehead as he gently opens the bathroom door with his foot. He sets you down on the countertop next to the sink.

"I understand you're tired but... I just need you to know I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean what I said before you left, you know that right? I was frustrated about the party and it just came out wrong. I-" he tells you and you pull him closer to you. You put your good arm around his waist and move your legs to be on either side of him as they dangle over the edge.

You had spent the last three days replaying what Loki said and you can tell he had been too. "I know Loki," you interrupt him. "I know you didn't mean it," you tell him and he breaths a sigh of relief. He strokes your cheek lightly then leans down to kiss you.

When he breaks the kiss, you hide your face against his chest. "Y/N...?" he asks, running his hand up and down your back lightly.

"I'm sorry I pushed you about going to the party. I know you don't enjoy going to them and it wasn't fair that I got upset instead of listening to you," you tell him.

He puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head so you are looking up at him again. "I will go to the party, I just want to make you happy Y/N," he offers but you shake your head no and he looks confused.

"I don't want to go anymore," you tell him.

"You should go. I know how much fun you thought his last party was," he says.

You smile at him and run your fingers through his hair gently, "I would rather spend time with you, doing something we both like."

He cups your cheek and brings your lips to his. You kiss him back as his hand slides down your back, holding you close to his chest. You giggle when you pull away to breath, "I meant something like going to a museum... but that works too."

He laughs at your response than says, "Well we still have all the things on your Halloween list to get through."

You nod happily as you yawn then groan in pain when your stretching aggravates your sore muscles. His smile fades and he looks concerned again.

"Let's get you more comfortable, darling," he says and you agree.

You rest against Loki with your eyes closed as you listen to the tub full with water. After a few minutes, Loki carefully helps you out of your dirty, bloodied uniform and places you into the warm water. You let out a sigh as your muscles begin to relax from the oils Loki had added. Resting your broken arm on the edge of the tub, you let yourself sink completely under the bubbles.

Loki's kneels behind you and begins to gently unbraid your hair. He runs his long fingers through your hair and then down your neck to your shoulders, massaging all the tension from your muscles. When he finishes, he kisses you softly. "Just rest now, I'll be back in a moment," he says as he gets up.

You nod with a smile, struggling to keep your eyes open. Just as you are about to drift off completely, Loki returns to being you to bed. After drying off, Loki conjures you a soft pair of green shorts and a black tank top to sleep in.

You giggle, half asleep when he picks you up again and carries you into the bedroom. He lays you on the bed and then gets in next to you. At soon as he pulls the covers over the two of you, you curl up against his side.

Loki wraps his arms tightly around you and whispers, "I love you, Y/N."

For a moment, you aren't sure if you dreamed hearing this words or if he actually said he loved you for the first time. You look up at him and when you see his smile, you know you weren't dreaming.

"I love you too, Loki," you confess happily, right before you slip into a sound sleep.

@michelleleewise @ace-of-gay @high-functioning-lokipath @poetic-fiasco @soubi001 @lokisninerealms @lulubelle814 @lovingchoices14 @justasecretwriter @theaudacitytowrite @klaushargreeves420 @coffeeorsomething-irl @lokisgoodgirl @xorpsbane @avoliax @talesofadragon @lokiandbuckysdoll @animnerd @juulle987 @lokiprompts21 @javagirl328 @kats72 @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @mochie85 @princess-asgard @holdmytesseract @lokixryss @peaches1958 @lokidbadguy @highkeysimpingforloki

Let me know if you want to be taken off or added to this list! 💚

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cheerrioeoz · 10 months

Text

Reborn of us

(Ex husband!Miguel x Mother!Reader)

(Summary : Years pass , the thought of your ex husband in the back of your mind as you focused on your little girl. Though what happens when he catches wind of this?)

TW : Mentions of death,OOC Miguel,half fluff and half angst

Part 1 here

" Mijà! Hurry and come down,or else I'm not taking you to practice!"

Your seven year old daughter,(y/c/n) has been the centre of your world ever since she was born. She resembled him so much. From the brown curls she adorned to the slight sharpness of her teeth ,yet she still managed to make you love her despite the familiarity of the man you once loved etched into her face. It was the motivation to take care of your sweet daughter that brought you to where you are now,and the nights you spent working countless jobs just to make a living for the both of you had all paid off now that you were living comfortably in the coziness of your home.

" 'm comin mami!"

(y/c/n) came sliding down the stairs railings,already wearing her white jacket and her red belt tied around her waist messily. Her every step towards you was full of excitement,her face practically glowing as she dragged you by your hand and showing off her toothy smile

" Hurry mami! we're gonna miss the bus! "

" I was thinking of taking a nice walk,we can see the dogs at the park along the way"

That was enough to make your daughter lose it as she attempted to body slam the front door.

--------

"Heyyyy bossman!" One of the spider people yelled as they sent him finger guns,although their attempt to lighten up his mood was a complete failure as Miguel had sent a sharp glare that sent knives towards the poor spider.

" Calláte,what do you want?" Miguel had grew to become explosive with his temper ever since the night you left him and rightfully so,but it didn't mean it didn't leave a scar in his heart. Usually it would be your hands running through his hair,stroking his cheek with your gentle hands,your ever soft voice soothing him and assuring him you were there for him. That you were his,that he was yours,that you were -

The spider person's annoying laugh had snapped him out of his thoughts about you, resulting in a deep scowl until his ears listened intently to what they said next.

"Earth-2602's got an anomaly,was wonderin' if me and Ben could check it out -"" Who's the spiderman there?"

His heart was pounding,was she still the woman he knew ?

" Nah I don't know 'bout that, accordin' ta your weird ai the spiderwoman there isn't of age yet,still a kid "

Miguel knew it was wrong,he was absolutely wrong to try and see you again. But the thought of seeing you again sent him in a frenzy,he longed for you ever since the divorce and god did he regret his decision of going to a universe where his dead wife and child was alive,all for it to end a mess as they both died again. He should've been grieving,dying alone again but...he didn't feel that way again,instead the feeling of losing you was much worse than their deaths -

They simply didn't matter to him anymore,not like how you mattered to him. His dead wife's death didn't effect him at all. The day they died he just stared,as if they were strangers,and they are. He knew they were strangers to him when he felt uncomfortable drinking the bitter coffee his dead wife brewed,the type he thought suited his taste better compared to the cream and sugar you would add to his. Unlike you,you were his salvation when he was lost,his home to run to after a day of working,his to call has his own after being alone for so long. But he knew he scarred you too deep for you to even love him again without forgetting his infidelity.

"- So can Ben and me go check it out?"

Miguel turned around , his face an unreadable expression

" I'll go instead. "

---------

You were strolling through the park with your sweet daughter,her little hand in yours because she kept running away to play with the ants. At this exact moment,you felt almost complete. Your little girl was growing to become her own person,your job was stable and you were able to provide for the both of you and your little family of two was all you could've asked for.

Except the thought of her father lingered back to your mind,you couldn't lie,he was a bastard for not being able to be upfront with his feelings but apart of you that still loved him sympathized for him and kept defending him with " he has unresolved problems,that's probably it " or " it was probably because he didn't need me " but those thoughts would always lead you to feeling down,and you weren't good with hiding your sadness,so you'd often hide yourself from your daughter until you calmed down because you didn't want her to grow up with the mindset that it was her fault you and Miguel split.

" Baby,do you wanna play with the other kids? Your practice doesn't start until 2 hours"

Your daughter jumped at that and giggled, messily throwing off her taekwondo suit and handing it to you as she ran her little legs to the sandbox.

You watched her play with other kids,and you can't help but forget about the thought of Miguel when your little girl was infront of you,beaming with joy as she made what appeared to be a sandcastle with the playground kids. After some time,you look up from the sandbox to see a portal - wait,portal?

Your heart dropped at who you saw came out of it.

----------

TAG LIST

@brooklynscherry-z @d1lf-loverrr

(Comment if you wanna be tagged for part 3 <3)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara angst #atsv spoilers #spiderman atsv #atsv miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #father!miguel ohara #angst #parent!reader

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impala-dreamer · 1 month

Text

Save Me - Part One

A Short Story

~ Sometimes, when life seems the brightest, shadows creep in. After announcing their engagement to the world, Jensen's fiancé is kidnapped. With the help of a friend, she tries to fight her way back home to him.~

Jensen Ackles x F!Reader, Dean Winchester

7,160 Words Total. Part one: 3,209

Warnings: My kind of Super Angst. Blood. Injury. Kidnapping. It's really sad...

A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo "No one's coming to save you. Get up!"

PART ONE ~ PART TWO

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

Her thoughts were hazy; her head throbbing from the repeated blows. The blood that had trickled down her neck had dried and she could feel how matted her hair was around the wounds.

Her muscles ached, her skin was bruised and broken in more than one spot. The cramped trunk she’d been forced into and the bumpy ride had nearly crippled her. She’d tried to count the turns they took, the miles they raced across, but disorientation and fear had been too much to overcome.

Wrists and knees bound in scratchy, rough rope and eyes blinded by a scarf, Y/N was led from the car and dragged up a few stairs. She could hear a lock turn and the hinges of a door creak. Boots on a wooden floor; the heavy breathing of her captor.

The house was warm. Heat was pulsing up from hissing radiators and the smell hung heavy in the air, mixing with the stench of stale cigarettes and rotting trash. Still, she was grateful for the warmth. January in Indianapolis was freezing and the trunk hadn’t exactly been insulated.

“Where are you taking me?” she whimpered, cringing as the fingers around her upper arms dug into her flesh.

There was no answer.

“Please! Don’t do this. We can work something out.”

When she refused to take another step, she was yanked forward and thrown into another room. Her sneakers squeaked and she recognized the sound of cheap linoleum flooring under her rubber soles.

A kitchen. Knives. A backdoor, maybe.

She twisted against the tight hold. “Please, just let me go. I swear to god I won’t go to the cops. No charges pressed. Please. We can get out of this mess.”

The giant hand gripped her harder and Y/N groaned at the pain.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

A gruff voice shouted by her ear. “Shut up!”

She bit her tongue but refused to give up. “Let me go!”

With all of her strength, she pivoted to the right, shoving her elbow hard into the solid body behind her. She heard a pained grunt and the hand holding her released. She spun around the other way and tried to run, but it was no use. Still tied, her knees buckled and she began to fall.

The hands were back, yanking her harshly back onto her feet. She screamed and fist collided with her jaw. Sparks erupted in the blackness of her vision, pain spread across her face.

“Told you to shut up!”

Y/N held her breath and squeezed her lips shut.

Tugged forward again, she stumbled deeper into the kitchen and heard a door open. Cold air hit her face and she shuddered.

“Where are we going?” Tears soaked into the blindfold. “Please…”

Hands released her and Y/N teetered on the edge of what felt like the top of a staircase.

A basement.

She panicked.

“No, no, no!”

“I told you to shut the fuck up!”

His fist connected with her temple and Y/N fell. She counted four stairs before every sensation and thought vanished.

“You sure we should be doing this here?”

Y/N looked over from the edge of the bed at Jensen who was fixing his hair in the mirror. He was primped and picture perfect for a busy day at the convention. Tight black tee under a denim jacket, immaculately ripped jeans, and brown boots. Add to it all the longer hair and a beard- he looked a little too good.

He caught her eye in the mirror and smiled. “I do. I think this is the best place to do it.”

Y/N squirmed nervously and lifted her left leg onto her knee so she could retie her sneaker for the tenth time. Her engagement ring glimmered and she sighed happily at the diamond.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

And yet-

“What if they don’t like me? Or they get mad, or-”

Jensen spun around and dipped his chin, looking at her with a stern gaze. “Then I’ll kill them. All of them.”

His voice had dropped to a deep, rough growl and Y/N laughed.

“OK, Dean.”

Jensen exhaled loudly and straightened up, returning to himself. He closed the space between them with two long strides and fell to one knee. He took her hand, the same hand that he’d held two weeks ago when he’d asked her to marry him.

“I promise,” he said softly. “They’re gonna love you.”

Her cheeks warmed and her tension eased.

“How can you be sure?”

Green eyes beamed as he smiled.

“Because I love you.”

Pain woke her.

Stabbing, white-hot pain that spread through the entirety of her left side. Though she couldn’t tell where it manifested from, several points along her body had made contact with the concrete floor and spikes of pain radiated from each one.

Her cheek was smashed against the frozen floor and her nose ached. Gingerly, she rolled onto her back. The scarf over her eyes had shifted a bit and she could see a faint stream of light surrounded by creeping shadows.

The air was frigid and damp, and smelled like mold. She shivered as the cold seeped through her thin clothing and into her soul.

Fear wrapped itself around her lungs and squeezed. Her breathing quickened, her sore jaw trembled. She tasted blood, felt every bruise, every splinter of bone. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the last twelve hours.

Late evening. The convention center. Walking from the loading dock to the back parking lot. Low hanging ceiling; giant yellow lights. Cars jammed in every spot. A dirty white van. A shiny black Explorer. An old gold Camry.

The Camry.

Something heavy hitting her head. Her ears rang. The warmth of blood oozed across her scalp.

She could feel the trunk closing around her, the thin upholstery. The stink of gasoline wrinkled her nose.

Her chest burned. Her throat closed.

She screamed.

“Somebody help me! Help!”

She thrashed against the ground; ropes still would tight around her wrists and legs.

“Help!”

Turning her face back to the concrete, she wiggled her forehead against the stone, pushing the blindfold up and away from her eyes. She blinked into the darkness and let out a hopeless cry.

The basement wasn’t big, but it was old and dark. Light streamed down from the door at the top of the staircase but she’d rather not have any.

Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, spiders lurked in corners, ghosts swept like cold breath over her skin.

“Please…” Tears flowed freely, dripping down her cheeks and onto the floor. She let go, sobbing into the darkness, lost and terrified. “Help me…”

The stage was bigger than she thought it would be; the curtains heavier. She stood off to the side, hiding in the wings while Jensen awed the crowd.

He really was something magnificent. With a tiny smile, he could captivate a crowd. One well-timed wink could send them to their knees, have them swooning and begging for more.

Y/N watched happily as he answered questions and animatedly told a few stories about his work on The Boys. He had a million stories and she would never get tired of hearing them.

She could feel the hour waning and nerves crept up her spine. She steadied her breathing and twirled the platinum ring on her finger. It was too big, she thought, but it didn’t matter. It could be a lump of camel dung and she’d love it. He’d given it to her.

Finally, Jensen cleared his throat and threw a glance over his shoulder at her. It was time.

“I’m sure most of you have heard the rumors,” he said, microphone clutched in his left hand. “So, I thought we’d put them to rest right now.”

The audience’s anticipation was nearly tangible. Hopeful silence rang through the room.

“If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to introduce you to my fiance…”

Right arm extended, Jensen gestured to Y/N and she took a deep breath before stepping out into the bright lights.

Her hands were numb. The skin around her wrists was bloody and stinging. In a panic, she twisted her hands, chewed on the knots, screamed through her teeth.

The desperate cries rang off the leaky stone walls and bounced back at her. She was sure that no one outside would be able to hear her, even if they weren’t in the middle of nowhere.

She had no idea, really, where she was. She did know that they had driven for a long while, and most of the journey had been on uneven, unpaved roads. Surely, they were well outside of the city and anywhere there might be neighbors nearby to hear her pleas for help.

Giving up and afraid of breaking her teeth on the knot, she rolled onto her knees and carefully shuffled over to the stairs. The wooden banister was old and unfinished, just bare wood hammered into place. She rubbed the rope against the edge, hoping to fray the strands and break free.

“What are you gonna do once you get those ropes off?”

Y/N froze and looked around, searching the shadows for the source of the familiar voice.

“Hello?”

“You got a plan?”

“What?” She squinted into the shadows but there was nothing there. She was alone.

“I said, do you have a plan to get out of here?”

“Who’s there!”

A deep, kind laugh. “You know who it is, Y/N/N. What you don’t know is how to get out of here.”

Her heart raced. She did know who it was, but she wouldn’t admit it. If she was hearing his voice, she was going insane. Or she was concussed, which seemed more likely.

Can you go crazy from that?

“Depends on how hard they hit you, I guess,” he said.

Y/N grit her teeth and tried to ignore him. She went back to work furiously rubbing against the post.

“Keep going, you almost got it.”

She sighed. “Go away.”

Another laugh, softer, under his breath. “You don’t mean that. You need me.”

Y/N groaned and kept at her task. Tiny specks of dust and fibers danced in the faint light and she picked up speed, forcing it harder into the wood.

The rope snapped before she could steady herself and she fell forward, smashing her forehead into the corner of the post.

“Fuck!”

Dizzy, she tore the broken twine away and sat back on her ass. She kicked her legs out and untied the rope around her legs. Finally able to move, she jumped to her feet.

The sudden movement was too much for her head and she fell onto the steps, palms crushing into the damp wood.

“Be careful…”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the phantom voice and crawled on aching hands and knees up the steep stairs.

Once at the top, she held her breath and pressed her ear to the door, listening.

If anyone was near, they made no sound.

Carefully, she stood up and grabbed the knob. Praying for release, she turned the brass but it caught halfway around. She turned it again and again hoping something would change, but it was locked.

“Hello!” She beat against the door, kicked it hard. “Help me! Hello!” Fists pounded, her throat tore. “Let me out!”

Someone on the other side kicked at the door and it rattled in the frame.

“Shut the fuck up!” he bellowed, scaring her even more.

Y/N jerked back from the door and felt all hope drain away as boots thudded across the linoleum and the lights went out.

To her surprise, the audience cheered. Smiles beamed up at her from the front row, applause washed over her.

Timidly, and with Jensen’s encouragement, she stepped up to the microphone stand and smiled.

“Hey, guys.”

Her cheeks were burning, her eyes squinting in the stage lights. She raised a hand to shield her face from the glare and looked out into the room. Every seat was filled and fans stood along the back wall. It seemed everyone at the con was in that room, watching Jensen give his big announcement.

She tried to take the mic but her hand was shaking terribly. Jensen came to her aid and pulled it from the stand. He kissed her cheek.

“You’re gonna be great,” he whispered. “They already love you, just go with it.”

Already, people were queueing up on either side of the stage, ready to ask a question should the lines be opened again.

“How’s it going?” she asked, receiving a loud cheer in reply. “Yeah, me too.” She laughed and took a shy step back. Her heart was racing, her lips hurt from smiling.

Jensen watched her with bright, loving eyes. He placed his big hand on her lower back and gave a gentle push.

His touch calmed her instantly. She turned to look up at him and everything else faded away. She’d be fine, he was with her. Always.

“Well, show them,” he said into the mic.

Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Go on…”

With dramatic, mock reluctance, she extended her left hand and showed off her new ring. It sparkled in the lights and the fans went wild.

She checked the door three more times. She twisted the knob until her palms were raw. She kicked at the wood until her legs ached.

In the darkness, she felt her way down the stairs and collapsed onto the floor. Her head was pounding and a sharp, unending ring blasted loud in her ears.

She lay on her right side, shivering and sweating at the same time. Her face was clammy and her eyes felt as if they were on fire.

“You have a fever,” he said. “That’s not good.”

Y/N turned towards the voice and gasped.

Leaning against the staircase railing was a ghost of her imagination, a handsome vision in a denim jacket and ripped jeans. Red flannel peeked out beneath the jacket and his pockets were full. His jaw was shaded with light stubble; his hair was short and fluffed upwards. His forehead was creased and he crossed his ankles and arms, staring down at her.

She shook her head but her vision wouldn’t clear. He was blurry but obviously there.

“Dean?”

He chuckled. “Who else?”

She sighed painfully and closed her eyes. “You’re not real.”

The apparition pushed off from the post and shrugged. “I’m more real than anything else you got right now. Who are you gonna talk to? That rat over there?”

She cringed. “What!”

He laughed outright and rubbed at the back of his neck. “You’re gonna have to toughen up real quick, Sweetheart, if you’re gonna get out of this.”

“There’s no way out of this.”

Dean crouched down, set his forearms on his knees, getting close to her. “There’s always a way out. You may not like it, but there’s always a way.”

Something caught in the back of her throat and she coughed hard. Violent pain erupted across her middle and she screamed, folding in on herself.

Dean’s worried hands floated over her body; his face contorted with helplessness.

“Hey. Hey! You’re OK. Just breathe.”

She coughed again and her limbs spasmed, twisting inwards.

“Hey! Y/N/N, come on.”

She imagined she could feel the heaviness of his hand on her shoulder.

“Shh… It’s a broken rib… or six. You’re gonna be OK.”

Her eyes were wide, her skin paled. “Can’t… breathe.”

“Hey, hang on… Stay with me!”

Another cough let loose a spray of crimson from her lips and Y/N’s eyes rolled back.

Dean’s voice echoed in her head and everything else faded away.

He kissed her on stage. In front of everyone. In front of a thousand cameras flashing and videos rolling. He kissed her hard, dipped her over his arm.

Y/N was embarrassed and thrilled and in love. It was hard to contain or sort through the emotions running through her, and when they walked off stage together, she started to cry.

Jensen spun around and bent down to reach her eye level.

“Baby, no… what’s wrong?”

She shook her head and tried to look away, but two giant hands framed her face and held her there.

“What’s going on?” he asked, green eyes flooded with worry. “Did I do something?”

She smiled and sniffled. “No. No, Jen, you didn’t. I’m just…” She took a shaky breath. “I’m so fucking happy.”

She took a shaky breath and lifted her head from the frozen concrete. The chill had entered her bones, chilling the marrow and numbing her digits. Her joints ached; the breaks in her body stung. She wiped at the dried blood on her mouth and tried to sit up.

It hurt too much to move.

“I’m thirsty,” she croaked. Her throat was raw and her voice crackled.

“You gotta get outta here.”

She growled. “Ya think? How?” She pushed up on one arm and glared his way.

Dean was standing in the dark next to the stairs. Hands shoved in his pockets; bottom lip tugged harshly between his teeth.

“I don’t even know where ‘here’ is!”

He sighed. “I know.”

“Or who they are!”

He pursed his lips, took a breath. “I know-”

“Or why the fuck I’m locked in a basement!”

Dean rolled his head on his shoulders, looking for answers on the ceiling. “That’s it.” He snapped his fingers and looked down at her.

“What’s it?”

“Why are you here?”

She rolled onto her ass and slowly tucked her knees to her chest. Every movement hurt, but it was better than freezing to death laid out like a ragdoll.

“I already said, I don’t know.”

He dropped his chin, narrowed his gaze. “Think.”

She shook her head. “I have no fucking idea.”

“They haven’t touched you,” he noted.

She scoffed. “Um… I don’t know if you recall that I’ve been bludgeoned and shoved into a trunk and beaten and-”

Dean held up his hand, surrendering and asking for patience. “I mean, they haven’t… touched touched you.”

“You mean like-”

“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“So they’re not gonna like… rape me or anything. That’s good.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” He scratched his head. “So why are you here? What do they want from you?”

Y/N shrugged and winced at a new found pain. Her neck was stiff, her spine tingled.

“Think!”

She startled. “I don’t know!”

“Think. What’s missing?”

“I don’t-” Her head hurt. Her vision unfocused.

“Come on, kid. Think.”

“My… my ring.” She reached for the diamond, but her finger was bare. “My ring is gone.”

Dean hummed. “Yeah. But what’s still here?”

She took stock of herself, struggling to remember what she’d worn that morning and what was left.

“My necklace,” she answered, touching her clavicle. “My jewelry. They didn’t take anything else.”

Dean came closer as he led her thought process along. “So, they…”

She swallowed hard. “This isn’t a robbery or anything. They don’t want to rape me. They… It’s got something to do with you.” She looked up into green eyes and a hard expression. “I mean, with- with Jensen.”

TO BE CONTINUED... Part Two

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67@k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05

#spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x reader #angst #one shot becomes two #save me p1

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mediocreanomaly · 10 months

Note

NESTING? PLS 😭 like ARE WE CONNECTED SOMEHOW this is so good

i have drowsy knives purring himself to sleep stuck in my head now--THIS IS LITERAL GOLD 😭 it would take a v special s/o to pick up the slight nuances of his emotions too n he'd be head over heels 🥺

but nesting instincts 🥺 please for the love of everything knives elaborate i i i wanna know all there is to know ab this man 🥺👉👈

n maybe vashy seperately too?? 🥴

Authors Note: Turned this into a full post because I'm procrastinating my drabbles anyways lmao this is going to give away a teeny tiny bit of my uncanny Vash post I'm making but I love talking about the Twins and their less than human instincts

Savern Twins Nesting HC's

Knives

•Knives is surprisingly the less embarrassed of the twins about nesting instincts, this is solely based on the fact that he doesn't see his plant qualities to be anything to be ashamed about, it's just another thing that sets him apart from humans

•Although, no one (besides you) knows about Knives nest. You may wonder how the two points can co-exist but that because a Plant's nest is supposed to be somewhere secure and safe. So while he's not embarrassed that he has a nest, he's not going to openly talk about it and risk giving away someone trying to get a peek of it (not that he really openly talks about anything)

•Knives nest is big, he had a bed custom made that's larger than a kings but circular and with plush raised walls so it feels not secure and less in the open. He's collected various blankets and pillows that fill the empty space so that he can bundle up under them, all of it is white because he refuses to let his nest look ugly or disorganized

•He's a perfectionist too so he spends a lot of time organizing and reorganizing his nest. Every time he gets a new blanket or pillow to add he has to redo the whole thing to make sure it's in the perfect spot or else he refuses to sleep in it

•Now Knives doesn't have to sleep much like he doesn't have to eat, but sleeping is something enjoys. He stresses about his plans a lot even if he doesn't show it outwardly. What better way to destress than napping in his nest?

•Whenever he decides to officially make you his mate (yes he calls it that, what else is he supposed to call it? Everything else sounds too human) all his instincts will scream at him to burrow into his nest

•For awhile you'll actually be hard pressed to even be allowed out of the nest, because why would you want to leave? As your mate Knives needs to keep you safe, and where's the safest place in the world? His safest place in the world, so please stop trying to leave the nest- you're hungry? fine he'll bring you food that you can eat in the nest

•I honestly don't think Independents hold body heat because their sisters live in water, which is one of many reasons they nest. It's also why Nai will drag you in with him when he wants to sleep so he can bum off your body heat. That's when when you learn he can purr (yeah thats right Plants purr propaganda) naps like this are the best. It's hard to stay awake when he's got you cuddled under blankets, gentle rumbles lulling you asleep

•After awhile you'll be allowed out so long as you are by his side or being escorted by Legato, or atleast unless you get pregnant

•If Knives manages to get you pregnant...you are banished to the nest again. It's not so bad though, besides he likes you like this. All round and full of his child, surrounded by plush comforters and pillows that cradle your form. At this point he won't leave your side unless he has to, if his instincts were bad before then they are haywire now, he stays curled up with you because theres no way you'd be able to defend yourself in a state like this, it's his job as your mate to keep you and his unborn child safe and sound, tucked away from the rest of the world

•When the baby is born it's where you'll spend most your time too, I mean...c'mon think about it. Your little one all tucked against you and Nai curled protectively around both of you, gentle purrs from both him and your baby as both their plant markings glow ever so slightly? If there's such thing as heaven this is it

•Knives has purposely made his nest large enough to hold his growing family, so no matter how many children you have you'll all get to curl up in the nest to find comfort or just to sleep.

•I think unfortunately once the children hit a certain age they are kicked out of the nest lol, it's more reserved for a Plants mate and young ones, so starting at maybe teen age it's time for them to make their own nest

•This isn't to say they aren't ever allowed in at all though. If Knives children are in any sort of distress his instincts kick in telling him to make sure their safe so in times like that they are still allowed in, the purpose of the nest is to provide him and his family with safety and comfort so no matter what it's there waiting for you

Vash

•Vash is admittedly a bit more embarrassed about the fact that he nest

•He tries his best to blend in with humans and thinks that people might find it weird that his instincts are constantly telling him to grab every soft thing he can find and hunker down

•Not that it really matters because he's always on the run anyways, he doesn't have time to stop and nest in the first place which makes it an easy an excuse to not nest at all, so Vash doesn't have a nest...right?

•Wrong. Like I said it's instinct and even Vash can't help but begin to nest in whatever shitty motel room he's in, especially if he's had a really rough day and just wants to sleep.

•Vash's nest is...admittedly a bit more pitiful than Knives. Knives has the advantage of staying in one spot, Vash does not, so he doesn't have a single nest but more so a hastily made one consisting of anything soft he can find. old blankets, pillows, clothes, rags, and even his own coat all make up his haphazard resting place.

•When he meets you though oh boy does it make it harder to resist the urge to stay and make a nice big nest for the two of you to hide away in

•It takes awhile for you to learn of Vash's little habit because he tries really hard to hide it away. He doesn't want you to think he's weird so when he does show it to you and you don't react negativly he's shyly asking, "do you...want to get in it?"

•Please say yes, his heart can't take any other answer. After that Vash is more keen on nesting even though the two of you travel, you even buy him a couple blankets that you pack up and bring so that he has something more consistant to nest with. The two of you will arrive at the motel for the night and you sit on the bed watching as Vash sleepily mulls over the blankets, pillows, and clothes he's choosen and organses it in a satisfactory way before he weakily pulls you in with him, purring as he cuddles up to you

•If you run your hand through his hair you'll be rewarded with more purrs and him nuzzling into your hand, but don't comment on it or he'll get embarrassed and hide his face into the blankets while he pulls away

•Vash wouldn't try to get you pregnant unless it was after he dealt with his brother and at that point I think he'd have a more permanent nest. Whether that's on Ship 3 or your own little home he's finally got a spot that he knows is always there, perfect to keep you in while you grow your baby!

•Vash loves spending time in the nest, it's from a mixture of putting off his instincts so long when he was on the run and the fact he actually has a place of comfort for once that does it, so if you can't find your partner...he's most likely buried in the nest

•It's super cute though, you'll walk in the room and softly call "Vash?" and his head will peak out of the mountain of blankets eyes still half lidded with sleep and hair all messy as he says a soft "hmm?"

•This nest is still a bit more messy and it's one of those "it looks disorganized but Vash know exactly where everything is" situations, he doesn't really care about colors or anything, infact it's proably mostly blankets that other people have gifted him over the years, he feels like it tells a story

•Unlike Knives, you'll have to be the one to eventually kick the kids out of the nest once they get older because "what do you mean they can't stay in here with us? Their still our baby!" "Vash their 20" "and?"

•Vash's plant marks always appear when he's in the nest, he can't help it! It's so comforting, besides he has you here warming him up and your kids cuddled in the covers- oop he's crying, don't worry they're happy tears

After note: I hope you liked it!!! I wanted to add more stuff about you being able to read Knives but it didn't really fit so that might have to be saved for another list I'm a firm "the boys do weird but cute animal things" believer and it's my job to infect people with that propaganda

#vash x you #knives x you #vash x reader #knives x reader #trigun x reader #trigun x you #Zero responds

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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Note

Astarion with Bard!Tav headcanons, pls?

I have a soft spot for Bards. Once, a gender fluid bard who plays the same campaign as I do, scared a creep away and we never saw him again.

Thanks @thedomesticanthropologist for the dialogue. With her permission, I copied it here since it fits the mood of these two gremlins .

Check out her blog, it's amazing!

Hope you will enjoy these headcanons!

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Bard!Tav

Astarion is ready for everything when he meets you, but not for the fact you are the most unhinged person the Sword's Coast has seen.

The sworn enemy of many nobles whom you have offended in your songs.

Thrown up from numerous adventure parties for your horniness and a specific type of humor.

if you aren't beaten by someone's spouse for sleeping with a married person, you consider it a bad week.

All the Astarion's flattery? It falls flat!

There is nothing original in what he says. Nothing really interesting in his sweet words!

You could flirt better when you're five.

But you are curious.

Why is he using such cliche pick-up lines on you? Why is he so eager to do it? It's obvious he has no communication skills whatsoever! And hee sounds like a character from an erotic novel.

You are a professional, after all. If you wanted to seduce him, you would have sex the first two hours you two met.

So... you are waiting.

In the meantime, Astarion starts opening up. The real him is so much different from the 'seducer one". He sounds even innocent.

He finally invites you for a night of passion and, at this moment, you can't hold yourself anymore.

"I've been waiting… waiting since the moment we met…"

"So knives to the throat are flirting to you?"

"... I do recall saying it was a darling of a throat or some such, but- it's a line, it's not- you're not supposed to be really listening-"

"So I'm just supposed to be so distracted by your shirtlessness that you can say anything and I'll fall into your arms?"

"Listen, if I wanted to spend the night talking…"

"Couldn't you even bring a blanket? Give me the address of the person who taught you all this boring shit, and I will put my lute up to his arse! Gods!"

The date night is awkward.

You even don't have sex. You talk.

And you play your lute, singing some of the most offensive and inappropriate songs you know.

Astarion allows himself to relax.

He has never felt so safe with anyone. You can laugh all his fears away!

Vampire lords, tortures, violence. It all sounds … hilarious, not scary.

By the morning, you fall asleep. Astarion puts off his shirt to bathe in the sunlight.

When you wake up, you curse out loud.

"What is the fuck is this on your back??"

He explains and you take your lute to play one of the bard healing spells.

It wouldn't help of course, but you soothe his pain a bit.

You use the spells to cast away nightmares. And you also play music to help him meditate and avoid re-visiting bad memories.

Together, you form a murderous couple. There is nothing worse than a bard and rogue.

And you boost his self-esteem. He is afraid of Cazador, he is scared of him. But you -

You compose the most catchy and offensive songs about him.

They are pretty good, by the way, and some bards, including Volo, add them to their repertoires.

At first, it causes some anxiety to Astarion as if he can be punished for your actions.

But soon his fears start fading.

If it's funny, it's not scary.

Together, you defeat Cazador - and you've polished your vicious mockery!

When Astarion is finally okay with intimacy, you have a wild graveyard date which ends up with you two being arrested for disorderly conduct.

Post-game your destiny is decided. You are a traveling bard, after all.

You travel throughout Swords' Coast - singing songs and robbing your audience.

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garbinge · 9 months

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You, Me, and Italy

Michael Berzatto x F!Reader From these August Prompts: Italy Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: All my fics are 18+, angsty, mentions of suicide, death, grief, loss, broken heart, drug use, addiction, being high, someone close to ODing, uncomfortable, sad, mentions of sexual situations, it's based on canon mentions of suicide and death and grieving, but a little more in depth. So just be weary of any triggers one might have in reference to these things.

A/N: This is not apart of my Richie Jerimovich multichap. This is heavy. I try and steer clear of fics like this because of my own triggers and trauma around drug abuse and addiction but this just was an idea sitting in my head probably because of all that trauma. The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth @fancyvoidtragedy @shinebright2000 @knight4xmas

The kitchen was always your favorite place to be when you couldn’t sleep. Something about the ability to hear every single noise in a space where usually you’d be lucky to hear the person next to you speak at a normal tone.

You had come in through the back, placed your stuff down in the locker that had your name written on a green piece of tape, your insanely patterned bandana was snug around your head just above your forehead, something you always wore when cooking. Now, the sounds of the water running as you washed her hands filled your ears and was followed by the clunks of pulling the knives out, the blade tinging as you set it free from its case. Now slicing, the quick quippy sounds of the thin slices of all the items you needed to prep. Basil, onions, garlic, fig, and parmesan cheese. All the ingredients you picked up from the grocery story that was still open this late. The chopping and the sizzling filled your ears in a similar way that music would fill someone else’s. It kept you grounded, kept you calm, kept you in the moment.

“Late night snack?” A voice interrupted that tranquility but surprisingly, there was no reaction from your side. You kept steady as your hand tossed the garlic and basil in the olive oil, other hand equipped with a spoon ready to add in the parmesan ricotta mixture.

“You’re lucky I don’t scare easily.” Your voice was steady as you focused on the pan in front of you.

Mikey looked down and laughed before he made his way from the office over to his best chef and best friend. He leaned against the prep area, hands crossed as you had your back to him.

“You should toast the breadcrumbs.” Mikey said as he took in what you were doing.

Immediately, your head turned to look over your shoulder and shot the man a look. “I’m a one-woman show here, Mikey. I’m getting to it.”

“You know, I can help you out.” He had crossed his leg over the other now as he waited for a response. “Only if you want to.” His arms were now uncrossed as he raised them in a surrender.

Your head tilted, the only invitation he needed to start helping out.

“I’m making arancini, fig and garlic arancini.” You specified.

“Rice balls. You’re making rice balls.” Mikey teased. “What inspired the fig?” He asked as he toasted the bread crumbs at the stove next to you.

“Remember when we went to that bar the other night?” You looked up at him, despite being a few feet down from you, he still towered over you in height. “While you and Richie were off doing God knows what, I ordered shit from the bar. They had this fig, arugula, and goat cheese pizza.”

“Jesus Christ, what fuckin’ bar were we at?” Mikey laughed at the fanciness of how it all sounded.

“That place, Porta. I’d say it was more hipster than fancy.”

“God, I don’t even remember.” Mikey laughed before placing his attention back on you and continuing the conversation. “So the pizza was good?”

“It was, and I just kept thinking what would go well with fig and landed at a rice ball.”

“Arancini.” Mikey corrected you with the biggest grin growing on his face.

A laugh left your mouth as you took the sauce off the heat, wanting it to cool down slightly before pouring it into the egg mixture that was already placed in the fridge.

The silence fell over the both of you and you both continued to move around the kitchen. Mikey stood with the bowl of rice in his hands, resting it on the prep counter as you stood over and poured in the egg mixture. Mikey was whisking it around rapidly, that way the eggs didn’t scramble. The smell coming from the bowl was filled with savory scents of garlic and sweet touches of fig reduction.

“You good, buddy?” Mikey was looking at you as he stirred everything around. It wasn’t so much in reference to your current state, which was focused as you concentrated on pouring the egg mixture in, but more in reference to why you were here late.

Buddy. Such a Mikey term. The two of you knew each other for years, meeting when you were smoking in the back of the restaurant you used to work out. To put it in simple terms, he poached you. He had just grabbed a bite at said restaurant, with his brother Carmy, a detail you found out later since Mikey came alone to the alley in the back where you had been taking a break. He asked if you had made the slow braised beef and proceeded to tell you about his restaurant. You never walked back into that restaurant again and started at The Beef the next day.

As time passed, things got close with Mikey. The two of you just fed off each other, you vibed effortlessly and one day that led to more. You spent a majority of the night locked in the office making a bed out of the table, the floor, the bookshelf, anything that had an inch of a flat surface, Mikey took you. That however, never amounted to more. It was always just sex. There was no label on what the two of you had, no real dates, no holding hands, just stolen moments around the restaurant, late nights in the kitchen, nights out at bars, and overnights spent at each others places. But that never made anything awkward because despite their being no label, everyone knew there was something between you two. It was impossible to miss. The way you two got along, the way you spent every waking moment together, whether you were at the restaurant or not. But what the real dead giveaway was, you two moved in the kitchen like you had perfected a choreographed dance, every, single, time. There was never any missteps, any arguing, no bumping into each other, you just glided by each other, calling out kitchen terms and directions. It was a sight to be seen, everyone thought so. Including the family. Sugar and Carmy were impressed when you came by for the first time maybe a month into starting at The Beef. Richie had already seen how the two of you worked together but both Berzatto siblings were shocked by it.

“Hey, you good?” Mikey repeated himself and bent down a little to look into your eyes.

“Yea, sorry.” You shook your head from your thoughts.

“I don’t buy it.” Mikey pressed you again for more information. “What’s with late night rice balls?”

“You ever feel stuck?” There was no point in trying to hide what you were feeling from Mikey.

“Uh, just every day of my life.” You let out a breath through your nose in a sort of chuckle. “I just, wish I could get out of here.” The frustration was littered in your voice.

“Where would you go?” He set the bowl down now that everything was stirred, and he turned to face you.

“Anywhere.” You turned too so you were facing him.

“So let’s go.” His voice raised, like what he said and meant didn’t need planning, didn’t need money, he spoke it outloud like it was the easiest thing to achieve.

“Yea, where?” You were about to start naming off places around here in Chicago as a joke but he was quick to answer you.

“Italy.”

You frowned but a smile was growing on your face. “Italy?” You questioned.

“Yea, let’s go to Italy, we’ll eat all the rice balls in the fuckin’ country, we’ll learn how to make ‘em like a true Italian. We’ll eat our way around Rome, Sicily, Naples, it’ll be great, just me and you and Italy.” He was so energetic in how he spoke, his hands were in the air, his voice was echoing off the kitchen walls.

“You, me, and Italy?” You questioned him as your head nodded in agreement.

“You, me, and Italy.” Mikey nodded with the biggest smile on his face.

____

Time might’ve passed and a lot of things might’ve changed, but sometimes stayed exactly the same. You were pushing through the back door of The Beef, bag and kitchen tools in hand as the clock ticked past 1AM.

“Mikey?” You called out, expecting to see him appear in the kitchen. You called out again and heard nothing. It was odd, but also maybe not. He had been distant lately, you picked up on that when most nights he didn’t come back to your place. You knew things had been tough for him, he was having money issues and as a result moved back in with his mother, he was stressed. Every time you did get the chance to see him, he wasn’t fully there, sometimes you’d taste alcohol on his breath, others you could tell his mind was caught in a thought or 20.

Moving to the lockers, you saw the door open just slightly and the lamp on illuminating a ton of paperwork. You saw his hand resting on the table and slowly peaked in.

Now, you had your suspicions, they were probably more than suspicions, you knew. You knew Mikey was hooked on something. But you didn’t want to accept it. But there it was, slapping you right in the face. It had been functional, he had been functional, which is what made it easy for you to question, for you to say nothing. After tonight, you’d regret it, you’d regret staying silent, not giving in to your suspicions, voicing them out loud.

You took in the sight of him, he was so out of it, you could see his glazed over eyes even from the distance you were at. The giveaway as if everything else wasn’t so obvious was the pills scattered all over the paperwork in front of him.

“Mikey.” The urgency hit you just as much as the the scene of him. You were next to him in seconds, shaking him awake.

The smile that filled his face as he stared at you, the smile that warmed your heart, the smile that melted you, the smile of your best fucking friend was breaking you.

“What–what’re you doin’ here?”

“How much did you take, Mikey?” You moved forward to the table to search for a bottle, a pill count, see how many were on the table, but Mikey’s hands began to grab your arms.

“No, no, no, no, no. Stop, you’re ruining the fun.” Mikey complained, his voice was slurred.

You pulled back immediately, uncomfortable and unsure what to do. Your heart was beating fast and before your tears could even start falling, Mikey started yelling. “You’re ruining the fun!!” It was a repetition of what he had said before and all it did was secure your feet frozen to the ground. “That’s all anyone ever does anymore. Ruin the fucking fun.” He spun in the swivel chair like a child and when it stopped spinning he looked at the bookshelf and began speaking again, but this time more at a whisper.

“Even my own fuckin girl. I can’t have anything.”

You snuck out the door, searching for your phone in your pocket. The irony that in your hastiness, you spent more time looking for it than if you searched for it with purpose and patience.

As you picked your phone up to your ear, your hand was shaking. “C’mon, pick up, pick up.” You mumbled, taking your other hand to pick at your lip.

“It’s 1 in the fuckin’ morning, I’m neck deep in shit diapers, if this is you and Mikey asking me to go out, I’m blocking your number for eternity.” Richie seemed stressed in a completely different way.

“Richie, it’s Mikey, he uh, I don’t know, there’s pills, he’s awake–sort of?, he’s angry, I don’t know how much he took but he, he uh, I just need help, I need you down here, can you get down here, please?” The shakiness in your voice was the dam holding back your tears.

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes. Keep him up.”

With that Richie hung up and you were moving back into the office, you squatted down and turned the chair so he was facing you. “Mikey, babe?” You tried to keep your voice soft. His red, glossy eyes met yours as he plopped his head down to look at you.

“My girl.” A little bit of hope filled his face, he reached his hand up to cup your face. The impulse to pull away was strong but you stayed there, you stayed there with him and let him speak to you.

“You’re so pretty, you know that? So pretty. And you’re so talented, you can throw down, you know that? Best fuckin slow braised beef I’ve ever fuckin’ had.”

The amount of compliments he was giving you, it should’ve had you elated, floating, with butterflies but instead it was making you sick–uneasy. And you just had to sit there and let him say it, over and over again. You were counting in your head, hoping that once you got to the 10th 60th second count, that Richie would be here.

“Hey hey hey, you listening to me?” Mikey moved slightly to look at you, even in his fogged state he could tell your mind was elsewhere.

“Mhm.” You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you stared into his eyes.

“You, me, and Italy, baby. You, me, and Italy.” The second time he said it, it was in a whisper like he was desperate for it to be true. Like if he said it low enough the world would grant him the wish. That’s when you really saw him, saw what was happening in his brain. Alongside that hopeful look was one of peace and happiness. The absolute gut wrenching emotion you felt in your heart when you realized it. How being high set Mikey free, set him free from his demons, in some weird twisted way this was the closest you’ve seen Mikey to his usual self.

Before your heart could break anymore, you heard Richie’s voice behind you and he was slipping into your spot and picking Mikey up.

______

“You know I remember this one time, we went over to Mikey’s place, the one on Courtyard, me, Carm, and Richie, and it was Sunday, Braciole night. We walk in, Mikey’s got the game playing so loud in the background, we start prepping, cooking. I remember he told me not to put raisins in the braciole even though that’s how mom did it. And he just, he had this smile on for those first 30 minutes, like he had something planned, like he was in on the joke. But the thing is none of us knew what the joke was. And then, the door opened, we were all confused at who it was and then, this woman appeared. Mikey introduced her to us, he was so happy, and we were like shocked, cause Mikey, our big brother, the player, brought this girl over to our fucked up family Sunday night dinner. She didn’t care that the TV was loud, that we were even louder, that Mikey and Richie would tell the most insane stories, over and over again, and in fact, she moved around the kitchen like, well, like she’d known us all our whole lives. I don’t know if I ever saw Mikey so happy.” Sugar was sitting in bed, her phone on speaker while you sat silent on the other line.

“You at the restaurant?” Sugar cleared her throat.

“Standing right outside it.” You spoke up, trying to hide your tears from the story Sugar just told.

“I’ll be there soon.” There was rustling on the other side of the phone, like she had started to get up and get ready.

“Sugar?” You questioned, worried she was about to hang up.

“Hm?” She hummed.

“Thank you.” It was two words but sometimes you needed to hear it. How much Mikey loved you, he didn’t tell you often, but you felt it, you saw it. But now, that he was gone, that all that was left of Mikey for you was the things he left at your place, the memories you shared, you took the antidotes Sugar occasionally told you and kept them someplace special.

“I’ll see you in the chaos.” Sugar replied back to you in which you did the same.

For a few seconds after the phone call, you stood there, staring at the gutted restaurant, staring at the mayhem happening behind the glass, which was normal for the restaurant, whether it was in business or not. But right now, standing outside, in the peace of the quiet reminded you of those late nights in the kitchen, and you were destined to hold onto that peace for just a few more minutes.

Eventually, you joined the chaos. Greeting everyone as you made your way through the renovation. Finding yourself getting swept up into something in the immediate first seconds you entered the front door. After an hour or so, when you wrapped up your job in the front, you made your way to the kitchen.

“What’re you doing?” You placed your stuff down in the office as you walked past Richie, Fak, and Marcus who were gathered around someone’s phone watching a video, arguing back and forth. Natalie stood up from the chair in the office and placed a hand on your shoulder in a half greeting and walked over to the arguing men. Your eyes lingered on the office table and chair a little longer than normal, letting the memories flood into your brain for a short few seconds before you turned to put your attention back on everyone.

“Scraping and painting and fighting over moving the lockers.” Marcus spoke up.

You turned around and stepped out of the office, staring at them trying to attempt to move the lockers. Carmy had appeared now, yelling at them to keep it down and when the mention of Mikey’s locker still being locked was announced, that’s when everyone silences.

“Just fuckin’ open it.” Carmy spoke up.

A hat. June 5th, 2010. Taste of Chicago. The booth.

You smiled at that. You weren’t there for the booth, but you heard all about it. From the family, but from Mikey, it was one of the many stories he’d tell you over and over and honestly, you’d do anything to hear him tell it 200 more times.

Carmy handed the hat to Richie, and as he turned around his eyes fell on your.

“Yo, uh, I got something for you.” He said and walked right past you into the office, searching for something. As everyone went back to working, you turned and took a few steps towards Carmy as he moved the papers around looking for something.

“So, uh, we’re sending Ebra and Tina to culinary school, for them to stay sharp, learn some new shit, and uh, I–we, Syd and I figured you didn’t want or honestly really need that, so uh–here!” He proclaimed the last word louder than the rest as he found the envelope with your name written on it and handed it to you.

You looked down at it for a second and then back at Carmy, you two didn’t talk much in general, but you definitely didn’t talk much about him.

“You and Syd…” You started to say as you mindlessly tapped the envelope against your skin. “You uh,” You wanted to say that the two of them reminded you a lot of you and Mikey, the effortlessness in the kitchen, the way their ideas just bounced off each others and how they brought this new sense of life to each other. But it was that last thought that weighed heavy on you. There was a point that Mikey brought a new sense of life to you and you did the same to him but unfortunately that emotion, that feeling, had changed at some point, at no ones fault but it didn’t stop you from not cherishing it more. “Just, don’t take it for granted.”

“Yea, yea.” Carmy nodded, getting where you were coming from but also not really wanting to get into it and you were okay with that because you didn’t want to get into it either.

Carmy’s eyes moved down to the envelope and back to you. Taking the hint you nodded. “Right.” You said quickly and began to rip the envelope open. As your hand reached in and pulled out the papers in the envelope, you saw the word United and then followed by a seat and time and that’s when you saw the airports.

ORD – NAP

Naples International Airport.

“Carmy.” You looked up, eyes shocked.

“It’s what Mikey would’ve wanted.” Carmy nodded and walked by you, taking his hand to rest on your shoulder and then tap it as he exited the office.

You stared down at the tickets, trying to take in everything.

“You, me, and Italy, Mikey.”

#The Bear #The Bear FX #The Bear fanfic #Mikey Berzatto #Michael Berzatto #Michael Berzatto x Reader #Mikey Berzatto x Reader

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god-mouths · 5 months

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Scott pilgrim is a modern retelling of Dante’s Inferno, and I want to talk about it

Hi . Brought this up very briefly a while ago but i rewatched spto with friends last night and got my gears turning. I don’t usually make posts like this but It’s been on my mind and I want to share. Here we goooo. Under read more becwuse I wish not to disturb my beloved friends with a long post

First off, let’s start with theeeee obvious.

Say hello to our Dante and Beatrice.

I don’t think I need to go into this first one much, but Scott and Dante are of course the heroes(term used lightly. Scott is not a good person and honestly neither was fuckinh Dante of all people) of their respective tales, going through hell and back to win over this ethereal, “too good to be true” heavenly dream girl. Scott even dies to get her in the end, like Dante venturing down into the depths of hell, dying and then ascending to get to Beatrice. If I wanted to really stretch it I could say the dreamscape is a sort of purgatory but I don’t think there’s enough evidence for that one.

Next,

Our Virgil. What’s up, Wallace.

In the comics Wallace acts as a sort of guide to Scott. We end up seeing him less as the comic progresses, which I find lines up with Virgil having to part ways with Dante before he enters heaven. Not much to say otherwise admittedly. Love you though buddy

Now for the symbolism of hell. Since there are nine circles of hell, it obviously can’t match up one to one with the exes unless we add some of scott’s relationships to the mix, which both doesn’t make sense, causes this analysis to get stupider than it already is, and leaves some characters left over that already don’t fit in to these parallels.

Luckily, however, there are The Seven Deadly Sins. Going to be going in sin order rather than ex order here

Firstly,

MATTHEW PATEL - PRIDE

- the first boyfriend and the first sin very conveniently line up, which threw me off track because I thought the exes would go in the order of the sins. Enyways

- in the movies, comics, and shows, he is insanely flashy with how he presents himself. It’s the entrance, the dances, the expressive clothing (“that guy’s dressed as a pirate” “pirates are in this year!”, modifying Gideon’s suit to fit his color palette, the outfit he wore while kicking gideon’s ass). The theatre kid in him essentially

- taking the lead in the musical Knives and Stephen presented him with— they knew how to cater to him, because he views himself as the coolest bitch on the planet. Which honestly he kind of is but don’t tell him this

- so headstrong in his pride that he fucks up. Repeatedly. First to get killed, too cocky, spends all of gideons money “I’ve lost billions!”

- believes he’s entitled to Ramona as soon as he wins the fight against Scott

GIDEON- GREED

- I don’t feel like I have to explain this one but I will because I enjoy him greatly

- CEO, billionaire. Money money money mr rich

- literally “owns” or tries to excersize ownership Ramona in the comics and movie as if she belongs to him— with the glow, or with the chip implanted into her neck with his logo on it.

- has all of his past girlfriends cryogenically frozen. All for him none for anyone else. They should only love meeeeee.

- wants everything for himself in excess. Women, fame, money. Almost considered pride for him also but greed is more fitting

KEN AND KYLE- ENVY AND LUST

- holy shit this image has five pixels so sorry about that I’m on my phone and Google images sucks

- anyways of course they’re sharing sins

- not much to say here as they don’t show up much, and it’s easy to make the argument of envy or lust for ANY of the seven exes. These two were the hardest to figure out. Not as sure on Envy, but can definetly advocate for lust— playing around with women, thinking they were playing around with Ramona.

TODD- GLUTTONY

- this one was the easiest one for me. Like come on

- breaks vegan edge in the comics, movie, (vegan police), and show (Wallace breakup event 2 dead 5 injured)

- his whole persona revolves around food. Of course gluttony doesn’t always mean food but here it most definetly equates. Even when he’s vegan he always makes it a talking point of how superior he is to others because of this fact, only for it to blow up in his face when his enjoyment of non vegan food catches up to him.

ROXY- WRATH

- a very angry girl to be sure. Takes her emotions out using violence, attacking Ramona the first time she sees her, even though she is going out of the order of the league and supposed to be attacking Scott (although I guess that point is moot because they all think he’s dead at that point)

- “I’m bi-furious” line from the movie deserves a shout out here I think

- (completely justified) Unending rage against Ramona in the show, and scott in the comics and movies. She is PISSED.

Lastly,

LUCAS LEE- SLOTH

- also one of the easiest ones. Could have made an argument for pride (tries to prove he can land a sick ollie so hard that he dies) or greed (movie star who lives in huge mansion), but sloth ultimately fit the bill the best.

- even before we get into his reoccurring theme of “whatever” in the show, it’s pretty evident in the comics and movie that he doesn’t care enough to extend effort. He tells Scott he’ll leave him alone and say his ass got kicked if Scott gave him a twenty dollar bill, sends his stunt doubles to fight Scott in his stead.

- onto the show, he lets his stardom slip out of his fingers with his attitude, not even caring to read or memorize the script anymore (“is that why half the lines in your last film were ‘Let’s Party’?” “I uhh, read the title.” Etc). Just spends all his time messing around and skateboarding. The title of his episode is literally “Whatever”. He doesn’t give enough of a shit to care. Which. Respect I guess

Extra; the exes ARE referred to as “the seven deadly chumps” in the show.

In conclusion;

#Scott pilgrim #ramona flowers #Wallace wells #matthew patel #gideon graves #todd ingram #roxy richter #lucas lee #kyle katayanagi #ken katayanagi #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim vs the world #writing #not ocs #this took me an hour to write tghis is why there’s so many tags.#anyways thank you bye bye

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milflewis · 22 days

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ok but mob au

“You really didn’t know who I work for?”

When Yuki found out that Pierre’s boss is the Sebastian Vettel, the Lion of Singapore, and the unofficial heir to Schumacher & Co., he had only raised his eyebrows. Pierre took that to mean he had already figured it out.

Yuki blinks at him. “No.”

“But.” Pierre frowns. “Why did you — I always have so many knives on me! Is this not weird to you?” He gestures at his jacket which hangs open, showing four different perfectly sharpened blades tucked into the lining.

Yuki shrugs. “You are French, yes? You like to cut things. Like cheese.”

Pierre mouths wordlessly. Cheese.

“Anyway,” Yuki adds. “You are weird, so. This would not be weird.”

The first time Sebastian meets Lewis, his runners are wet with Michael’s blood and Lewis’s hands are pressing his head into the glass door. His face aches, nose throbbing.

“Can I help you?” he says, or tries to say. It comes out vaguely smushed.

He pushes back a little just to see. Lewis lets him move half an inch before shoving him back.

“Jesus, Hamilton,” Sebastian hears Michael say. His voice cracks roughly. Sebastian nearly cried when the doctor told him Michael survived the surgery, that they got all the bullets out and he was in recovery. He swallows thickly, as the relief makes him all dizzy even now. “I know you got out today but c’mon, let him go. This is Sebastian — I talked about him.”

The hands on Sebastian’s neck disappear and he’s rubbing at his jaw when he turns around. “Ow,” Seabastian tells Michael. His cheeks are pale and his chest is wrapped in white bandages but his eyes are alert and he is grinning.

“Sebastian, this is Lewis Hamilton. Lewis, Sebastian Vettel. Mika says we are all friends here.”

He pats Mika’s ankle that is propped up on the bed beside his hip. Mika’s eyes stay closed, arms folded in his chair, chin on his chest. There are dark bruises under his eyes under now.

“Right. If Mika says so.”

Lewis steps back towards Michael’s bed, grabbing the duffle bag from where it was leaning against the wall. Sebastian looks at his bare arms, the tattoos that go all the way down to his fingers, the rings there. His jeans sit low on his hips. He needs a shave. Sebastian recognises him from his mugshot, even of his hair is longer now and his face is more lined.

They hadn’t had the time to arrange for Michael to share a cell with someone affiliated with them, and when they had got in contact with him, a week later, he had settled in well enough with his cell mate. By Michael standards at least.

Does not talk much, Michael had told Sebastian over the phone. Likes his fucking singing though. Stares at the picture of his dog. Do you think he is lonely?

When Sebastian had brought it up with Mika, the best person for this kind of thing when Corinna is away, Mika had only shrugged, and told him that he doesn’t think it is just Hamilton that is lonely, and that of fucking course anyone who could survive nine weeks in solitary with just Fernando Alonso as company in the next cell over is someone that Michael would find interesting.

Sebastian looks away from the breadth of Lewis’s shoulders in his white tank and pulls a face at Michael’s waggling eyebrows.

“How old do you think I am?” Jenson asks, as Alex adjusts his long-rifle until it sits comfortably against his shoulder, supported by the flat roof they are lying on.

Alex doesn’t answer, because he knows exactly how old Jenson is, and the fact that people continue to tell Jenson to his face that he looks ten years older than his actual age will never stop being funny.

“Ollie, how old do you think I am?” Jenson calls.

“Jen, leave the kid alone,” Alex says. “You could dye your hair.”

“Do I look like a man who would dye his hair solely to stave off questions about his age?”

“Yes,” Alex sweeps the street below them, marking the buildings bracketing the shop they are surveilling. “Ollie, how are you doing over there?”

He can hear him scramble around for a second before a burst of static. “Radio ready for orders, sir.”

Alex grimaces, still not used to that, as Jenson only laughs beside him.

“Michael? We got him.” Eddie leans back against the closed door.

Michael hums, closing his leather notebook. He leaves his fountain pen tucked into the middle so he remembers what month of intakes he was going over.

“Send him in.”

The kid’s hair is long and dirty, falling into his eyes and around his ears. His knees are all busted up under his baggy shorts. His face is drawn and thin, and he is glaring at Michael, jaw clenched.

He goes all pale when he sees who sits in front of him. Seems like he didn’t know whose car it was.

“Jesus,” Michael says. “You’re tiny, how did you reach the pedals?”

This morning, the kid — Sebastian Vettel, Michael had asked around — had hot wired Michael’s car in under two minutes and driven away. Michael had watched from the restaurant’s window, amused and impressed.

Mika had been decidedly less so when Michael told him, ten minutes later, that they were going to have to order a cab.

“I’m not that short!” The glare intensifies. His eyes are kind of freaky, Michael thinks. Very big and bright.

Michael holds out a hand, level with his chest, and squints. He lowers it considerably. Sebastian looks like he wants to bite it.

“Of course not,” Michael tells him soothingly. Eddie gives him a reproachful look. Michael holds back his eyeroll but takes his hand out of reach of Sebastian’s mouth.

“I have a job for you,” Michael says, watching Sebastian’s eyes sharpen. He smiles thinly. “If you’re up for it.”

“A job. For me? What kind of job?” Sebastian tilts his head to the side, making his eyes wide. His curls tumble across his forehead. The whole effect is rather sweet, Michael considers, delighted. This will be interesting.

Mika has been nagging at Michael to stop picking up strays but he thinks he will agree with Michael on this one.

Michael stretches out his back, legs interlocked at the ankles, until something clicks along his spine. He exhales slowly, sinking back into the shitty mattress.

They called for lights out fifteen minutes ago. Lewis is still in the bunk above him. Michael looks at the scratches across the metal rods. He had a good workout today, no interruptions, and his arms are nicely sore.

Seventeen minutes.

Lewis moves in his bed, rolling over to the right and for a moment, Michael thinks he will roll right off the edge, but then he is swinging down, silent. Michael holds himself very still.

"I am not interested in fucking."

"Yeah," Lewis says. "I heard."

Michael swallows. The sharpened edge of Lewis's plastic spoon presses into his throat. Lewis is dense and solidly heavy, knees on either side of his hips, one foot digging into his knee.

Michael has seen him fight. In an enclosed space like this, and unarmed, he isn't sure who would come out the better. His fingers itch with excitement.

"I found the picture you left," Lewis says quietly. The spoon doesn't move an inch. His eyes gleam in the dark like an animal.

"Okay," Michael says, not bothering to pretend not to know what he is talking about.

Lewis was fine this morning. He hummed to himself the entire way to breakfast, and he spotted Michael in the gym without even being asked. It wasn't until after dinner that he went all weird and still in himself.

Lewis presses down, just a little. Michael raises an eyebrow.

"Is he alive?" Lewis asks like he doesn't want to show his hand but is doing so anyway. His mouth trembles at the corners. Michael frowns at him. He has seen Lewis hustle in the yard at card games enough times to know that his poker face is better than this.

"Is he."

Oh. Jesus.

Michael laughs. It is too loud of a sound for where they are. He laughs anyway.

"You have issues," he tells Lewis, who only sends him a cutting look.

"That was supposed to make you feel better! Stop crying and all. You miss him, yes? Thought I could help."

Lewis stares at him. Blinks those animal eyes.

Michael makes a frustrated sound in the back of his mouth. He misses Mika. He never has to talk when Mika is around.

"He is being taken care of in that shelter you put him in. I had my people check. I was being nice! Friendly too!"

"We're friends," Lewis says slowly as if he expects Michael to say no.

"Obviously. You are being ridiculous," Michael says. "You think I would kill a dog? No!" He is a little hurt.

"You are the chief suspect in fifteen open murders," Lewis says, flat.

"Not of dogs!"

Lewis looks at him for a long moment before rolling his eyes. "How are you still alive, man? For real? I thought it was a threat."

He pushes off Michael and pulls himself up onto the top bunk, as silent as he climbed down at the start.

"No one else would see this as a bad thing."

He can hear Lewis roll his eyes.

"Literally every other person here would think you were sending a message. And not a good one."

"I was being nice!"

There is a clang of metal against metal, and their cell bars rattle. "Oi! You two! Shut the fuck up. Save the fighting or fucking for the morning."

"Gross, man," Lewis says, and Michael kicks at the underside of his bunk. "You are gross."

Maybe Mika was right when he said that Lewis might not take his generosity in the way he wanted it, Michael considers. He decides not to tell him. He would be too smug if he did.

He palms the sharpened spoon that Lewis had held to his neck and left on his pillow, beside his cheek. It is small and narrow. Michael presses his thumb against the slice, feeling it. He smiles, and tucks it under his sheet. He had needed a new one.

+1.

Sebastian had been small when Michael met him. All eyes and bony knees and dirty hair.

Then he opened up his mouth and his personality crawled out.

Michael has never looked back.

#listen. i entertain myself #sewis #yukierre #makkinen #five head cannon ask game #kyle tag #niamh.asks #little fics

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leighsartworks216 · 7 months

Text

I Come With Knives Pt5

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Am I happy with this chapter? I think so??? I think I was trying to get it to go somewhere it didn't want to go before but I'm happy with how it ends now. I don't know if the words I'm saying make sense I'm so tired lmao

This chapter was inspired by A Lover's Folly (the chapter Fear of Losing It, specifically) by @tripleyeeet! Please go give it a read it's so fucking good

Warnings: angst, blood, murder, canon-typical violence, swearing, hints to a panic attack, Macbeth reference

Word Count: 2,103

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“A mystical and dangerous people, we travel the land, never settling in one place. We steal your chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters - your friend here has heard it all, I’m sure.” You look at Astarion from the corner of your eye. Despite his cool, confident demeanor, you can see how tense he is. He’s staring at the man before you like a steak on a silver platter. “I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer. A simple wanderer and monster hunter. But I’m no witchdoctor or cut-throat.”

“So what monster are you hunting?”

Astarion pipes in, a devious smirk playing on his lips. You’re shocked the self-proclaimed monster hunter does not take notice of his fangs or the punctures on his neck. Though, Astarion’s are far less prominent than yours - you feel fortunate to have a high collar. “Something terrifying, no doubt. Dragon? Cyclops?” He paused, a teasing lilt in his voice as he adds, “Kobold?”

Gandrel chuckles. “Nothing so dramatic. Actually, this quarry is a bit unusual. My people got word of a missing person, stolen in the night by a vampire. It’s unlikely they’re still alive, but with any luck we’ll find the kidnapper.”

You swallow, but the hunter doesn’t seem to notice. Astarion can hear the spike in your heart rate. “That’s not much to go on.”

“You’re right about that. We do know the victim’s name, though there’s not much work can be done with that save wander around shouting for them.” He tells you the name, and your heart drops. You make a good effort not to show it. Your face is still neutral as before, your body stiffly in position, but with a glance Astarion can see the way your eyes are distant. They flicker over Gandrel’s face, assessing the threat he possesses. You’re trying to work up a plan, an escape route, anything - but fear clouds your thoughts. Astarion can smell the anxiety wafting off you, even through the hunter’s stench.

This shouldn’t be as big of a problem as your mind makes it to be. You could lie, tell him you weren’t stolen, tell him you ran away. Perhaps he would take money for his silence. But what if he chose to take you back anyway? What if she is providing a much higher reward than anything you can offer? You can’t go back. You can’t.

Astarion clears his throat and steps forward. “And if you find them? Where will you be taking them, exactly?”

“With any luck? I’d be taking them back to Berdusk.”

Berdusk. Being able to place a name to the city of your tormentor somehow made it worse. You knew where she resided now - you could simply take a detour from Baldur’s Gate and kill her. But, that would mean going back. Walking within reach of her clutches. You could almost feel her hot breath against your neck. Her nails digging into your skin. You can’t go back to that.

“Are you alright?” Your mind is forced back into your body when the Gur directs his question at you. You search your mind for an excuse, but fall hopelessly short.

Astarion steps in where you falter. “Ah, yes, you remember then, darling?” He speaks, then, to the Gur. “I believe we heard that name along our travels. A mere whisper on the wind.”

The hunter lights up. “Really? Any information you have would be invaluable to my mission.”

He taps his chin, frowning in fake thought. “It’s a bit foggy - we must have crossed paths weeks ago by now. If only I could remember…�� He looks at the Gur from the corner of his eye, smirking. “Perhaps I can be enticed to recall just where they went.”

The man sighs. He reaches for his coin purse. Your heart leaps into your throat. He’s reaching for a weapon. He knows who you are. He’s going to kill you. He knows what Astarion is. He’s going to kill you both.

When your mind catches up, the man is on the ground. You kneel over him. Two hands hold your dagger within his eye, hilt-deep. The other stares blankly up at you, mouth gaped around a silent scream. Droplets of blood marr your face, mere specks of warmth and wet.

“Shit.”

Astarion grabs your shoulder, but your mind is still consumed by fear and paranoia. You whirl around, bloody blade bared at the vampire. Your grip is all wrong - you’re terrified. He steps back, hands raised. Your eyes flicker across his face over and over again, but you don’t see him. In his place is a stranger. Someone ready to steal you, haul you back to Berdusk, back to your master.

“As much as I love the offer, now isn’t the time,” he quips. He kneels down slowly, getting to eye-level. His whole face is dark. The reference to sex is completely masked by his seriousness. “You’re safe. You’re not going back - not if I can help it.”

Your hands shake. Drops of blood fall off the knife, landing in the dirt without a sound. His blood. This man’s blood.

Gods, what have you done?

You drop the knife like it burns you to hold it. It clatters to the ground with a dull thud. You didn’t notice before the blood staining your fingers, but you do now. It’s all you can notice. Well, that, and the body beside you.

“I-I killed him,” you stammer out, barely a whisper. Astarion says nothing. He realizes the irony in your guilt just as much as you. “I didn’t even think- I didn’t… Gods.”

Your thoughts are consumed by the red stains. You have to get them off. You have to rid yourself of this ever-growing weight in your stomach. But you don’t have much to wipe it off on. Your clothes? Then you’d have to wash the blood out. (Though, little flecks stick to your collar and sleeves already.) The ground? Rub dirt all over until somehow it removes the red? You couldn’t even entertain the thought. But you needed to get it off.

You frantically wipe the blood away with your hands, only serving to spread it further into your skin. But it’s all you can think to do. You have to get it off. You must. If you don’t… If… Would something bad happen? You’re not sure. It feels like yes, something terrible would occur the longer it sat on your flesh. But what? Why won’t it fucking come off?

You don’t even realize you’re speaking. Half-formed desperate, choked pleas to get rid of the blood. Prayers to higher powers to forgive you - even when you’d never prayed for such a thing before. Insults spewed toward yourself, damning you for being so fucking weak.

So you killed a man, so what? You’d killed hundreds to get you where you kneel. What made him any different?

I killed him in self-defense.

You’ve killed loads of men and creatures alike for the same reason.

He didn’t recognize me.

You don’t know that, do you?

All he had was a name. Not even a description of who he searched for. He wouldn’t recognize me.

And why dwell on that? If he’d recognized you, surely he’d drag you back? Tie you up, gag you, drop you on her doorstep. She’d recognize you.

And she’d punish me. Punish them. And then she’d see my scars. What then?

Then she’d gut you. Slowly. Keeping you alive for as long as possible so she can moan to your screams, so she can lick her fingers clean of your adrenaline-rich blood. She’d even do it in front of her spawn. And they’d love it.

I hurt them.

You fucked up and they paid for it. They’d laugh as you beg for mercy. They’d even join in if they could.

But he didn’t need to die. Astarion, he- He could have led him away. I would have been safe.

And when he realized Astarion sent him on a wild goose chase? He’d turn right back around. And by that point his suspicions would fall to you - the leader. He’d know.

He’d know you’re the monster he hunts.

Hands roughly grab your own, snapping you out of your restless trance. Your skin is not only red from blood, but from how much you rubbed and scratched. Small lines beaded with your own blood where your nails broke the skin. It stung. And finally feeling that pain grounded you further.

“Calm down, for gods’ sakes,” Astarion cursed. He hurriedly pressed a white handkerchief into your hand. It was soft and cool to the touch. Gold embroidery danced around the edges, quickly becoming stained and ruined. “You’re going to rip your skin off.”

You felt everything so vividly. You almost wished you were numb to it again. “I’m sorry,” you croaked. “I don’t know what happened, I just… I thought of her. Of what she’d do to me, and I couldn’t think of another way out.”

He sighed, annoyed but all too understanding. “I was going to send him off North. By the time he realized he’s been had, we would already be in Baldur’s Gate.”

“I’m sorry.”

He smirked wickedly, mischief twinkling in his eye, despite the tinge of concern underlying it all. “You’ve simply provided a more permanent solution to our problem.” He glanced over, but you closed your eyes. You didn’t want to look again. “No point worrying about it now.”

“He could have helped,” you chastise. The intensity was only directed toward yourself. “If we paid him or explained or- or something, he could have gone back and said I was dead. Then- then she might have stopped looking for me.”

“And if he didn’t?”

You couldn’t let yourself spiral through that argument again. You just shook your head, opening your eyes to watch as he wiped away the blood. Most of it stayed, requiring water to wash it off - a realization that frightened you. What if the blood never came off?

“I know it may seem hard to believe,” he began. His voice was strained, like he was forcing himself to believe in it too, “but you’re not alone in this fight. If she finds you - Do you hear me? If. - we can protect you. And if she takes you away, we know where to find you now.”

“Berdusk.” He hummed, pleased you understood his meaning.

“Karlach would go on a rampage before she ever lays a finger on you.”

You chuckled weakly at the thought. You could almost picture your companion barging down the front door of the manor, everybody else behind her, as she tears through the place to find you. It’s… comforting.

A shiver runs through your body as the adrenaline finally fades from your system. You sighed. And just when most of your guilt has left, another weight finds itself in your throat - a heavy lump of fear. “I’m afraid to go to Baldur’s Gate,” you admit quietly. He pauses to look up at you, red eyes scanning your face. “Berdusk is so close by.”

“If it’s any consolation, Cazador is in Baldur’s Gate.” You hum; he’s told you this before.

“And you’re walking back into arms reach.” You look up from your hands. “Doesn’t that terrify you?”

He huffs a humorless laugh. “Do I hide my fear that well?” he teased. “Of course I’m terrified. I have no idea how well these tadpoles block his influence. For all I know, the moment I step foot in the Gate, he’ll have full control over me again.

“But if there’s even the slightest chance I could kill him, I’m going to take it. I can’t go back to that life. Not after this.”

Not after experiencing freedom for the first time in too long.

Astarion curls your fingers around the handkerchief so you’ll hold it. He picks up your bloody dagger and cleans the blade on the dead Gur’s clothes. You can’t watch, but you can see the sneer on his face as he does so. He reaches forward and tucks it away in your sheath. It feels heavier at your hip somehow.

He holds you by your arms as you stand, continuing to hold your hands in front of you. It feels wrong to let them hand so casually by your side, and just the thought of using them makes you feel worse. He turns you away from the body, directing you back toward camp.

You can still feel the Gur’s blood in your skin, even after you spend two whole hours washing your hands.

---

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