#okay maybe i crave domesticity mind your own business

[napping-sapphic]

Haha having a normal one today! (thinking about how badly i want to fall in love and do someone’s laundry for them)

#wlw #wlw mood #sapphic #sapphism #lesbian #is this just a me thing?? #i love taking care of other people’s clothes #i love picking them up and remembering the times they wore certain things #i love putting my favorites on top so theyre more likely to wear it #i love the idea of mixing all of our clothes together so we end up wearing each other’s sometimes #okay maybe i crave domesticity mind your own business #im gay and i like sleeping

[littleoddwriter]

Nevermind, I had another idea 😂

okay so,,, this is probably at least similar to something you've done before (and I'm sorry if it is, rip) BUT I couldn't resist 👉👈💜

Could I pretty please get some zsaszmask/male reader in which reader gets injured (in any way you want, idk, accident? roman's rivals? something stupid?) and has to stay in bed for a few days. Roman and zsasz obv try their best to help him and be there for him and stuff, idk maybe they take shifts or something to be with reader?

idk I just crave being taken care of by these two, lol, I'm sorry if it's too similar to the dysphoria request, rip in pieces 😔✊💜👉👈💜 anyways, I'm going to bed now, so this is definitely fueled by my tiredness, I hope it's still okay 💜💜

Roman Sionis x Male!Reader x Victor Zsasz (Poly) | Headcanons

Hello there, my angel! <3 No need to apologise at all, this is a delightful request! Thank you so much for it, I hope you enjoy these. :') <3

notes; Male!Reader; Injury (Sprained Ankle); Being Taken Care of; Domestic Fluff.

Reblogs > Likes. Thank you!

You sprained your ankle in a stupid accident in the club one evening and now you're supposed to stay in bed and rest, until it's better. And it really doesn't even matter that, technically, you could still walk around a little and do things, Roman and Victor are very determined to make sure you don't leave the bed.

Everything you could possibly need is being delivered to you, so you don't have to get up unnecessarily, and if you need to use the bathroom, Zsasz will carry you bridal style; and for the rare occasion, during that time, that he isn't at home to do that, but Roman is, you're being carried around by him instead (he's surprisingly strong) - neither of them listen to your half-hearted protests.

The only exception is food, since Roman doesn't allow that near the bed whatsoever and each meal doesn't take too long, so he'll have you sit at the table with both of them. Other than that, though, you really only ever have to get out of bed for the bathroom.

That also goes to say that they'll bath you. Roman owns a huge bathtub that all three of you fit in, and he's never been happier about that purchase.

Roman also makes sure to postpone every business meeting possible, and for those that it didn't work out, he deals with as quickly as he can, so that he's back upstairs with you sooner rather than later. It's not like he doesn't trust you not to stay put, while both he and Victor aren't there (he also has two guards hanging around to make sure you don't get up); but he's paranoid that something will happen to you the second he's not there and it really fucks with him.

That is why he rarely even leaves the bed, either. He just stays there with you and cuddles you, talking about whatever comes to mind, while he's comforting himself with your bodily presence. He absolutely hates depending on others like that, and you and Zsasz are the only people that can actually make him worry the way he does, which is something he resents about this relationship, but he also wouldn't change it for the world.

Victor, on the other hand, is quietly taking care of your ankle every day, gently rubbing cream into it as he's changing the support bandages, which is what gives him the most comfort about it. He feels like he's failed you and Roman, since he couldn't protect you from getting hurt, and so helping you heal is quite comforting for him. He also loves to put a kiss on the newly bandaged ankle every time he is done, and it never fails to make you smile.

In the end, you stay in bed for much longer than needed, just because they wanted to be absolutely certain that you're all right again; even calling their doctor to have him take a look at your ankle once more.

#my sister used to sprain her ankle A LOT so i'm drawing inspiration from there hkjfdgjdk #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #roman sionis #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x y/n #ewan mcgregor #victor zsasz #victor zsasz x reader #chris messina #zsaszmask #headcanon

[whumperooni]

Hii!! If you're up for it, could you write something about Katsuki-nii? I just wanna be his wittle wife, stealing his clothes, being bred full of his cum, constantly hanging of his arm and talking about how much I love him. People might think we're too close for siblings, but they know better than to say anything, just like i know better than to be anything but Katsuki-nii's good little sister-wife.👉👈💕

Despite being one of my favorite characters, I haven’t written Katsuki before so please be gentle! o( _ _ )o

tags/warnings: tw incest, a smidge of jealousy and possessiveness and insecurity, aged up characters 

You hear the whispers. You always do.

“She’s here again?”

“What kind of adult woman still makes lunch for her older brother?”

“Isn’t it kind of weird? I mean...why is she always over him like that? And the way she dresses...it’s like...”

“Don’t they live with each other? That’s a bit strange, right?”

They whisper. They whisper, but they never really give voice to the uncomfortable thoughts and suspicions clouding their minds and filling their drum, dull days with the scandals they crave.

They whisper and you? You don’t listen.

You don’t need to listen- they don’t matter, their opinions don’t matter, the stares and gossip and mindless speculation don’t matter.

The only person who matters is Katsuki and, to a lesser degree, yourself.

Why should you care about others when your shining light- your sun, your heart, your darling big brother- is there to eclipse them with all his love and adoration?

➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺

“Don’t you think they’re a little too close?”

More whispers, more gossip, more nosy busybodies trying to forget their own troubles by trying to bury themselves in you and your brother’s life.

It’s sad, really.

You ignore the raised brows and mouths hidden by hands and snuggle a little closer to your nii-san. He rolls his eyes, huffs, but his arm wraps around your waist a bit more firmly and his hand squeezes your waist, his fingers dig into your hip with a little flex.

“Nii-san, should I make curry or yakisoba tonight?”

“Mabo Dofu.”

You hum and you nod, mentally tack on the chore of going to the grocery store after you’re done here. You need to pick up his dry cleaning, too, and you need to remember to press Katsuki’s suit for his meeting with the hero commission in the morning.

Oh, and you need to lay out your dress for the dinner with the Todoroki’s tomorrow night.

Ah, tomorrow is going to be busy.

“Oh my gosh is that Dynamight?!”

Fingers dig into your hip again and you know that your big brother is irritated without having to look. He’s tired today- annoyed- and you know that the squealing call of a fangirl is not exactly what he wants to hear.

Poor nii-san- it must be tough having to deal with so much attention sometimes.

(Though, he does deserve the attention- he’s such a good hero; strong and handsome and eye catching without even having to try.

He’s perfect.)

“Dynamight! Dynamight! Will you sign my planner?!”

Two girls pop up right in front of- eyes sparkling and wonder on their faces, their proximity much too close. They don’t seem to notice you at first, but that’s okay- nii-san is the one who deserves the attention after all.

“Oh my gosh, I just love you so much! You’re so- oh.”

Ah, and now there’s disappointment on both their faces- expressions falling and pouts pushing rouged lips out, something almost irritated crossing over them.

Again, that’s okay- you’re used to it.

One of them- clearly the bolder of the two- eyes you without restraint. Her head cocks and her arms fold across her chest, her brows furrow.

“Is this- I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

Girlfriend? Oh, that’s cute.

You’re much more than a girlfriend.

Before your big brother’s temper can snap, you fix a sweet smile on your face- head resting on Katsuki’s shoulder and a giggle slipping from you.

“Oh, no- I’m his sister!”

“Sister...?” the other one asks, brows knitting together to match her friend’s.

Her eyes dart to the strong arm keeping you firmly against your big brother and you let your smile grow when she looks back up at you, give her a nod.

“Yep! Dynamight’s one and only little sister,” you chirp.

Katsuki snorts and you have to stifle a giggle when the girls exchange a look between them. Before they can say anything else, you nudge your big brother- smile softening when you feel him pull you just a little bit closer.

“Katsuki, sign her planner!” you urge him. You smile at the girl who hadn’t asked for any autographs and she seems to startle a little, flush whenever you prompt her with, “Do you have anything you want signed?”

She hesitates before giving a small nod and you watch as she starts digging around in her purse, detach yourself gently from your brother so he can carry out his duty to his fans.

He does so, with some grumbles and huffs, and the girls are aware enough not to push for a photo- scurry away with eyes lit up once again and excited squeals leaving them. You watch them with a smile and then reward your brother with a kiss to his cheek.

That gets him relaxing, just slightly, but you make a mental note of being extra attentive to him once he gets home from work.

“Nii-san,” you murmur, “I’m going to head off, okay? I need to pick up groceries.”

“Fine,” he grunts. “Just make sure to get some sansho.”

“I know, nii-san,” you huff, fondly. Another press of your lips to his cheek and then you squeeze his hand, smile at him with all the warm love you have. “I love you.”

“...love you.”

It’s rough, quiet, but it still has you beaming all the same.

You flounce off to run your errands- mind swirling with all the ways you can make your big brother happy.

➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺

It’s not too big of a surprise whenever you run into Sero at the store- he works in the same city as your big brother and you do run into him every once in a while.

What is a surprise is the way he rubs his neck sheepishly in the middle of chatting, when he smiles at you with a spark of hope in his eyes and a nervousness you’re not quite used to from him.

“Hey, I was wondering- are you free on Saturday? I thought maybe we could grab dinner or something...”

Your head tilts and you blink at him- surprised by the question.

Is he asking you out on a date?

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sero- on Saturday Katsuki and I are going to the movies. And we have a lunch with Kirishima planned.”

For a moment, Sero looks a little dejected. But then he’s smiling again and nodding.

“Oh, yeah, I get that. What about Sunday?” he asks- persistent but not quite pushy.

You smile at him and it’s guilty, a little apologetic.

Sero is nice. Friendly. You’re sure he’d make for a great date.

Maybe in another life...

No, in another life you’d still find your way back to Katsuki.

You shake your head, fingers flexing on your shopping cart and your expression softens even when his own smile wanes.

“Sunday we’re having lunch with the family. And Katsuki promised he’d take me shopping...”

“Ah...”

It’s quiet for a moment, awkward. Sero scratches his cheek and he forces his lips back up, rubs the back of his neck again in a way that seems a little...frustrated.

“You, uh, you spend a lot of time with your brother,” he says, words coming out in a near mumble. “Don’t you ever have time to yourself? Time for a boyfriend or anything?”

A boyfriend?

You almost huff, but you just smile instead- big and sweet as you shake your head with a soft laugh.

“Why would I need a boyfriend when I have my nii-chan?”

And, with that, Sero’s face falls completely- features distorting with something that you can’t quite name, something that almost almost has you feeling ashamed.

“Right...”

More awkwardness after that. Sero makes his excuses to leave and he detracts himself- a frown on his face as he leaves you all alone with your shopping cart and a faint, quiet sadness that you quickly push away.

You shake your head and clear your thoughts, look down at your shopping list.

Right, you still need to get the sansho. And you should pick up some beer for Katsuki, too.

With a hum, you continue your shopping- the exchange forgotten for thoughts of domesticity and all the plans you have with your big brother instead.

➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺

“Fuck.”

Your lips quirk into a smile at Katsuki’s groan and you wander over to him with a beer in hand, press a doting kiss to his cheek before sliding into his lap.

“Long day?” you ask in a murmur, hands running over his chest.

You get a grunt in response- Katsuki’s head lolling back with another groan whenever your hands begin to knead at his shoulders, soothe tight knots.

“Fuckin’ reporters got the jump on me,” he huffs. “And goddamn Deku wouldn’t stop talkin’ to ‘em.”

You make a sympathetic little noise and run a hand up until you can stroke your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. Something close to a sigh leaves him when you begin to massage there and you feel your heart melting a little as you watch the tension so very slowly begin to bleed from him.

“I’m sorry, nii-san,” you tell him- sincere, voice soft. “That sounds like a pain.”

Another grunt and you hum, drape your arms over your big brother’s shoulders and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“You need to relax, nii-san,” you mumble, pressing closer when his hands grip your waist. “I wanna help...”

“Then help.”

It comes out as a growl and you shiver from it, rock yourself against your big brother and slot your lips against his.

➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

You blink and look over your shoulder at your big brother, look down at your dress.

It’s simple- form fitting, yes, but not overly tight. A pretty dress with pretty flaring pleats and a cute sweetheart neckline, heels and stockings to match. You’re wearing one of the necklaces Katsuki has bought you- a copper choker with an o-ring in the middle, tiny and shining rubies dotting along the copper band.

It’s one of your favorites- something he had bought you when he first started the agency. The dress is new, but it’s a favorite, too.

“You don’t like it?” you ask him, frowning just a tiny bit.

Katsuki huffs and he walks over to you, wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on top of your head with a scowl.

“I like it,” he grumbles. “I’m sure Icyhot will like it too.”

Ah, now you see what the problem is.

A sigh leaves you and you gently place your hands over his, look him over in the mirror.

Slacks, a button up that’s not quite buttoned up. Simple and not his style, but something that makes him look so very handsome. You love it when he’s dressed up a little and you know that he likes it when you dress up, too.

“Nii-san,” you murmur. “I don’t care if Shoto likes it or not- I only care if you do.”

It’s true- it really is.

The words have Katsuki’s scowl softening, just a little, and you turn your head so you can press a kiss to his jawline, hum whenever he tilts his head back so you can lay another on his neck.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he huffs- still so grumpy, his arms tightening around you. “Don’t like the way fuckin’ Natsuo looks at you either.”

“Katsuki...”

You turn around before he can grumble any more and you cup his face, kiss him and try to show him just how much you care for him and no one else.

“Nii-san,” you tell him, soft and adoring and sincere as can be, “it doesn’t matter if they look at me. I don’t care. I love you. You’re all that matters to me.”

Katsuki’s expression flickers with something fond, with something near vulnerable. It’s gone in a second, though, and then you’re backed against the wall, your brother’s lips are meeting yours.

“You’re mine,” he breathes against you, fingers digging into your hips and your dress bunching up underneath them. “Mine.”

His lips find your neck and you’re left mewling, clinging to him and rocking against a thick thigh whenever he slips it between yours.

“Yours,” you gasp out- Katsuki’s teeth nipping at you, his hands dragging you up and down his leg. “I’m- oh- I’m all yours!”

Katsuki grunts and then one of his hands are gone, then there’s the sound of a zipper being pulled down. He lifts you and you moan at the display of strength, wrap your legs around him when his cock ruts against you. It takes just a quick second for him to push your panties to the side and you shudder when you feel him pressing against your entrance, cling to him and claw your nails into his back.

“So fucking wet.”

You are- you really are. How can you not be when you’re held up like this- your big brother lifting you like you weigh nothing, vermilion gaze burning as he takes in how quick your cheeks flushed and how fast your face falls needy and hazy? How can you not be when he looks at you as if you’re everything- a beautiful bounty, a delicious treat, a darling little sister, a perfect wife?

“Please, nii-san,” you mewl, beg. “Please- I need you!”

A growl and then your big brother is sliding into you- stretching you open with his big cock and making you moan, whine his name.

“Gonna fuckin’- shit- gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he grunts- no time wasted as he starts to thrust, sends your head spinning as he fucks you against the wall. “Fill up my girl’s cunt.”

It’s a promise as strong and sure as anything. You whimper, nod, and press a needy, clumsy kiss to his lips, clench around his cock at the thought.

“Gonna rip off these panties,” he growls- near snarls. “Fuckin’ drip my cum all over the Todoroki’s house- show them who you belong to!”

Oh, fuck.

The thought of that has you keening and you nod along to the words, gasp and hold onto him desperately as heat sears through you- as overwhelming pleasure has you choking up, almost sobbing.

“Yes! Nii-san, please! I’m- please- show them-”

Katsuki moans and it’s hot against your neck, broken up by an open mouthed kiss and his lips sucking a deep bruise over your flesh. You start to come- lashes fluttering and a sob slipping past your lips- and his teeth dig in deeper to your throat, the snapping of his hips gets faster, harder.

“Good- fuck- good girl. My good girl- comin’ on nii-san’s cock like a good lil slut- you’re so fuckin’- shit- say you’re- say you’re-”

“I’m yours, nii-san! Yours! Yours! I love you!”

A growl, a groan, a slam of his hips and then Katsuki is coming coming coming- filling you up to the brim and over it. You’re pushed over the edge and then you’re coming with him- mewling and clawing at him, pressing desperate and frantic kisses to him.

You only stop when his hips slow down, when he’s finished humping his seed into you. You’re both left panting then- his forehead pressed against yours and his cock softening inside of you, his eyes muddied and soft as they look over your dreamy, fucked out expression.

He slips out of you and he sets you on your feet- big hands landing on your waist to keep you steady and his lips finding yours in a slow, gentle kiss. Katsuki straightens your dress for you and he swipes smeared mascara out from under your eyes, presses a kiss to your forehead and has you sighing, letting out a soft and sweet noise of contentment.

“Mmm, I love you, nii-san...I love you so much...”

Katsuki huffs and he kisses you again- hand cupping your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek and you’re graced with a mumble in return- a quiet little “I love you too.”

➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺➺

Twenty minutes later you’re sitting in the Todoroki’s living room- your big brother’s arm thrown over your shoulder, your panties stuffed in his pocket, his cum drying on your thighs and the last of his seed slowly oozing out of your cunt as you sit there and smile, lean against Katsuki.

You love your brother, you do.

You’ll always love your brother. You’ll always be his.

#rooni's shit #tw incest #i think i made him too soft but oh well #Anonymous

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: Call This The ‘Can This Man Cook’ Section

(….. I don’t think these men can cook 😔)

First post pog :D I wrote a majority of these super late at night, so please forgive and let me know of any mistakes you find <3 Also, it’s a little long lol

Characters: Dream, George, SapNap, Badboyhalo, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Quackity, Fundy, Schlatt.

Warnings: None, except for a kinda risqué comment in Philza’s. Oh and I guess there’s mentions of eating meat in case someone wants the warning :3

Song Recommendation: I Love You So- The Walters

Hella fluffy! Hope you enjoy <3

From best to worst:

#1: BadBoyHalo-

Bad is the best at cooking on the server. He is the creme of the crop, absolute top one percent, king shit at cooking.

He can cook, bake, and temper chocolate perfectly, what more could you want?

His favorite to-go recipes are cheesy garlic bread and a special spicy chicken and rice recipe which he typically makes when the boys are over at his house for the night. When he’s with you he goes for something a little smoother, some mulled sweet berry cider with a smoked cod fillet, eaten under the light of candles while you quietly chat about life and your fellow friends. It’s always one of Bad’s most anticipated hangouts, and he’s very careful about planning when it comes to those days.

While he appreciates being complimented on his food or his skills, deep down he wants to have someone to cook and share his knowledge with so the cooking process becomes much richer. He’s cooked for so long and learned so much, but it means nothing if he can’t share it with another person. The moment you come to him and ask him for help on any kind of recipe, he’ll drop almost everything to help you.

Side note; he absolutely carried lunch and dinner for his fellow DTeam members. While Sapnap would mostly take over breakfast, Bad would be hounded by begging puppy looks from these adult men who couldn’t cook and kind of just sigh and get the ‘kiss the cook’ apron ready. It’s not like he hates it or anything, but the endearing factor kinda slips off after a few years of adult men groveling.

(Bad’s hands rest over yours, dwarfing them entirely as he helps you cut the pasta sheet straightly. “There you go!” He encourages, squeezing your hand gently and stepping away, moving back to dice the vegetables on the cutting board next to you. A comfortable silence falls, and with it comes something in Bad’s heart softening. The worries and exhaustion in his mind ease, and he slips into a contented routine of finely chopping and slicing. It’s been a while since he’s felt so calm. There’s nothing that can ruin this- 

The front door slams open. Footsteps walk in and approach the kitchen and you both hear it, 

“Baaaaaaaaad.” Bad cringes, taking a step back.

“Baaaaaaaaaaad, we’re hungry.” Sapnap. 

“Yeah Bad, feeeeeeeed uuuuuuus.” George. 

And then, from around the door frame, a white mask peeks in. Nobody says a word, but you can feel Bad deflate next to you like let go balloon. 

“It’s alright, big guy.” You laugh, grabbing his forearm and leaning up against him. His sad puppy eyes make you smile a little, and you try to reassure him. “We can hang out alone another time. Let’s keep working on the pasta.” He sighs, but still returns your smile. “Yeah, another time.”)

#2: Philza 

Sigh…. he can cook. Not quite as good as Bad can, but better than Quackity. A solid second place. It stems mainly from being so knowledgeable that he just knows and has tried so many different foods, but since he doesn't actually do much cooking, I'm making him a flaky second place.

Doesn’t mind cooking, but doesn’t love doing it either. He’s always focused on so many different things that he’ll forgo eating to keep working on what he’s doing. He mostly cooks for Techno and Ranboo or the few guests (you) they seem to receive. Makes great stew, and even better roasted chicken, is absolutely immaculate when it comes to cooking bird.

He didn’t teach Wilbur or Techno shit! I wish I could say it’s because he wanted to but just couldn’t, but he was literally like “hmm. Im a little busy now, maybe next year” every year!! But, this being said, if you ask him to make something with you or teach you how to cook a particular dish, he will agree to help you. Old age has really mellowed him out, and after certain events, he realizes he needs to stay a bit closer to those he cares about from now on.

He likes sweets well enough, and will always thank you for any gifts you make for him. Along with growing older, he’s had time to lose his pickiness he had in his youth. If he does end up cooking with you, he’ll prefer doing the harder recipes over easy ones. He will lose it laughing if it turns out bad, so don’t worry about any disappointment (his children make up enough of that ^^).

(“Now,” Phil starts, washing his hands quickly as you wait for him next to the cutting board. “Pufferfish needs to be prepared perfectly, or we will die when we eat it. But I don’t need to explain to you how a pufferfish works, now do I?” 

When you shake your head no, he comes up behind you, tarnished wings bound and hair pulled up in a pony tail. 

“The meat of a pufferfish is very delectable, and much better with a glass of wine.” He grins cheekily, “ If this works out well, which I’m sure it will, dinner will be delicious.” 

It falls quiet for a second, and as your hesitantly looking over the fish that may be your last, you gasp when you feel him press up against you back and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe there’ll be other delicious things to eat as well,” He murmurs into you ear, before leaning back and busting out laughing. Your face feels stupidly hot. Dilfza quest activated.)

#3: Quackity-

Quackity:

Quackity can cook. I know!! I’d say he’s like the third best cooker on the list. And he’s not half bad at baking either.

He likes making up stupid bad recipes and trying them out with you, even if at the end of it the one of you up chucks your damned creations the hour after. Despite his reigning need for chaos though, he knows how to make a decent amount of recipes and strives for praise when he’s actually putting forward effort. He’ll arrange little dinner dates (“A handsome man and his very pretty friend, good food made by yours truly, and La Chona, what do you say, baby?”) and will sit there with a 🥺 look on his face until you tell him if you liked it or not.

He tries to act like he’s unaffected by your words, but even a small, “That was really good.” will make him turn red and giggle like a schoolgirl. He tries to play it off, but it’s easy to tell he loves the complements. Will also never tell you anything you make is bad. You are a deity descended upon  minecraft Earth and he is but your prettiest disciple who will uphold your honor and treat you like you should be treated!!!! But he’ll then promptly choose to help you with and guide you into cooking/baking better ^^; He loves you!

As for baking, he really likes making cakes because of how simple they can be. It helps calm him down when he can just slip into bake mode and follow a recipe and make something nice at the end of it. Speaking of, he also has a sweet tooth, but not quite as bad as Techno does. Any sweets or food you make for him is always eaten, and always held in high regard. Will try to entice you into feeding him 👀👀 so watch out.

(He’s doing it again. You try to avoid looking directly at the dopey lovesick smile Quackity has on his face at the moment, but as you lift the fork up, you get a better idea. 

You look at him (to which he seems to melt a little under your gaze), look at the fork, and then back to him, raising the piece of cake up to his lips. His expression turns flabbergasted and his blush deepens. 

He doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, until you nudge the cake close and flash him a smile. Then it’s like a switch has been flicked; he giggles, blushing, and eats the cake right off the fork. He’s gone back to smiling that silly smile again, this time even brighter, but it’s okay. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest when he begs you for another piece.)

#4: Schlatt-

Another cooker~! He specializes with formal dinners more than anything else, and adores a good steak.

During his presidency, he didn’t cook very often. Quackity and you had to keep him fed through most of it, and the memory of watching you cook in his kitchen while he looked over work papers at his dining table leaves a mark on him, sealing a new crave for domesticity that he hadn’t ever wanted before.

Sometimes he would cook though. You, Quackity, and Tubbo would all gather around and eat together every once in a blue moon, when Schlatt was sober and calm. It feels tense at the table but also not in a way? Schlatt always seems to be chillest during dinner, a mix of the alcohol wearing off and the emphatic family feel that comes with Tubbo, Quackity, and you surrounding him.

He loves cake! It’s one of the few desserts he’ll eat, but you have to watch him closely or he’ll gorge himself of the treat. Indulge him and invite him to make a cake with you, and it will be one of the most interesting bakes of your life. How Schlatt got three eggs to stick to the ceiling is beyond you, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s completely fucking sober and hamming up his own cluelessness. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for him hiding all the other eggs around your kitchen as well. How did he get one on the top of your door without it falling when you opened it? That’s between him and god.

Overall, a good 4th place on the list.

(“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Schlatt says, deadpanned, looking you right in the fucking eyes with an undisturbed egg sitting perfectly straight on his head. 

“Where are the eggs, Schlatt.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Schlatt.” 

“Yes.” 

The container you kept them in is completely empty on your kitchen counter, once full of eggs but now reduced to a desolate husk of its former glory. Speaking of former glories, your president turns around, arms crossed and stands there silently. 

You look around. Theres one in the door handle of in the pantry, another wedged between two slices of bread in your bread box, and- oh god. On the fucking ceiling. Three, stuck to the ceiling, unmovable. After a full minute of dead silence you manage a “What the fuck have you done?”, and Schlatt turns to look. 

“Oh hey. There they are.” Your mind turns into a rock, shatters, and crumbles into dust.)

#5: Dream-

Honestly if you’re looking for edible food that tastes range from ok to good Dream is your man. 5th place.

He knows a lot of ‘depression era’ type recipes just because he’s pretty homeless and his man hunts don’t allow him much time to hone his skills. Stuff like bread or mushroom stew comes easy to him after so many times of having to do it on the run. Bread is the only baking he won’t screw up.

Can cook meat well enough too, but doesn’t really do anything special to it (besides his sauces).

To elaborate: Over the unknown span of his life, he’s acquired these recipes for forgotten and questionable sauces that he’ll store in little jars and leave at your house for you to use. They’re odd, and the ingredients aren’t ever what you think might be edible, but they’re surprisingly tasty none the less. He likes to show you a new one every month or so to keep things fresh.

Pretty general about sweets, but has a severe love for chocolate, especially dark chocolate. Has never had one, but dreams about chocolate cake. It’s high on his bucket list and written another four times over.

One of his favorite things to do with you is bake, mainly because of how ruinous it always turns out. No matter your skill, Dream’s vibes decimates any luck the two of you will have while baking. It’s scientifically proven. You left the cupcakes in for a minute-JUST a minute over what they should’ve been and they came out rock solid. Dream tried to eat one anyway. Best part was watching him try to bite through the shell.)

(He thinks he’s over selling it, half-gnawing on the brown cupcake (it was supposed to be vanilla, he thought) and making stupid growls when his teeth barely break through the surface, but the feeling he gets when you start laughing hysterically next to him wipes away any negative thought he had and fills him with utter joy. 

It's very late into the night, and you’re both a little loopy, but all the while you still lean against him as you giggle, the spot tingling where your hand rests on his arm. 

His heart thumps crazily, before sinking. Oh god. He’s in love with you.)

#6: Technoblade-

Knows a lot, but very little. He can cook the meat perfectly fine, but there’s a difference between being cooked and tasting good. He doesn’t know how to season them. Salt is the bare minimum you get.

6th place ^^; sorry king.

He’s good with potatoes though. I like to think that the countless hours spent potato farming had to account for something. He likes having cheese and butter on them every once in a while, but for the most part just eats them salted like an animal. It’s practically a show to watch him eat a cooked potato in three bites without anything but salt on it.

Big man loves food though, even if he doesn’t eat like it. Steak and cooked fish are high on his list of foods, but only if it’s cooked by Philza. And eventually you fall into his “I trust to eat this from you” category as well, but he has a special place in his heart for Phil’s cooking. Rabbit stew is at the very top.

He also eats a lot, being 6’10 and 200 something pounds of muscle, gotta consume quite a bit to keep him moving.

As for the sweeter variety of food, he’s got a massive sweet tooth. The moment you make him an apple pie or honey candy or anything of the like, he’s immediately enamored with you. Sweet things are hard to come by on the smp, especially with how far out he lives, but it’s a secret weakness of his that is very easily exploitable.

(You’ll be the death of him, he thinks, watching you closely as you trudge your way through the freshly fallen snow towards his house. Your normal pack is lighter than it usually looks, and he worries that you may slip and hurt yourself on the ice before you make it to the door. But still, you keep walking until you're standing at his doorstep, fist raised to knock when he opens it for you. 

You look surprised for a second, and then a grin splits your face and his heart races. 

“I can’t stay for long,” you say, having spent at least 30 minutes to get there. “But I wanted to drop this off for you before you went out to hunt again.” 

Out of the bag, you pull another smaller leather bag and hand it to him gently. It rests heavy in his palm, and for a moment he’s sure it’s ender pearls that you’ve brought him. But still he opens it, and he’s immediately taken aback by the smooth golden candies you brought him. 

“They’re honey candies.” At this point you’re practically grinning. “I thought you might like some while I was making them last night.” 

He doesn’t have to see his own face to feel the deep blush setting in on his cheeks and ears. You…. you’re so…… sweet. You are very…. sweet, he admits to himself, and he is very not attached to you. Not at all.)

#7: Fundy and Sapnap tie.

Fundy- 

Has his old man's cluelessness but is a fast learner. He doesn’t have much time to expand his food repertoire so it’s pretty much the basic stuff that he’s eaten during the war or before that when he was younger.

He really likes cooking though, and will invite you to come cook with him for dinner or lunch if he wants to hang out. When they were together, Dream had given him an old dusty cookbook that had several recipes he hadn’t ever heard of before, so that’s where most of what he tries to make comes from. His favorite to date was a special mutton dish that he asked you to try with him on his last birthday. It was just the two of you, but he had never had so much fun before.

Doesn’t like eating fish however, there’s just some bad vibe he gets when he thinks about cooking one or catching one. (Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Despera-)

Loves sweet berries as treats, seeing as that’s the only sweet thing he grew up with. Not too big on other sweet flavors. Likes honey in his tea though.

7th place cooker, will get higher as he learns more dishes.

(He raises his wine high with a laugh, clinking your glass with it as you both giggle drunkenly. 

The lamb you had cooked together turned out amazing, juicy and tender and flavored with crimson fungus juice. The recipe was from an old cookbook he had, he faintly remembers telling you, hiding the fact that it was Dream’s cookbook that he was given after a particularly nasty argument. 

He doesn’t want to think about him, especially not while he’s with you. Especially not when it’s his birthday. 

So instead he ponders the trip through the nether he took with you to harvest some of the fungi, how the juice was tangy and slightly bitter, but how it had done wonders when basted onto the meat while frying. 

You had looked so happy when you two plated the dish, so proud of him, all in a way that Dream never was. 

Even now, as you tiredly smile at him from across the table, cheeks pink and eyes focused solely on the moment you were sharing, he feels at peace for once. This is what contentment felt like. Oh, how he loves you so.)

Sapnap-

Shame the shit cooker. Ok ok, he’s not as bad as some of the others on this list, but that’s just because he can make a half decent breakfast. It’s not much competition.

Bad has desperately tried to teach this boy some cooking besides eggs and toast, but the only things that seem to have stuck are mashed potatoes and grilled pork chops. Neither of which he even likes enough to make often.

He prefers fish to meat, and would eat any kind of cod you offered to him. Likes smoked salmon a lot, it’s something Bad made for him a lot when he was younger. He tries to recreate the dish, but comes up short and feels disheartened when it isn’t like Bad’s. He’d appreciate any time you took with him to learn how to make the dish, and it wholly sticks to his mind afterwards. He never forgets the experience, and treasures it very closely.

Likes not-sweet sweets. Not bitter per say, but just not very sweet. He likes chewy taffy in particular, but the old lady kind that lasts 60 years but gets hard in 6 minutes after being exposed to open air. Gotta be polite about it too, or he’ll end up embarrassed and pout for an hour.

(He’s eaten 6 of those fucking taffies since you sat down on the couch, completely straight-faced as the two of you of you listen to Dream and George talking. 

At this point you’re completely checked out of their conversation, solely focused on the taffy Sapnap keeps eating. Where does he even get those? How many does he have?? You’ve been friends with him long enough to have seen him pop a taffy every other second of the day. He seems to have a stash on him at all times tucked away, filled with paper-wrapped pastel covered sweets. 

“Want one?” Sapnap asks, holding out a light blue taffy with a little star drawn in yellow dye on the wrapper. 

“What?” Startled, you lean back a bit and realize you had been staring him down as he ate, and flush with how rude that probably seemed. 

“Want a taffy? I don’t mind sharing with you, cutie.” He winks and offers the taffy again. “....” You gaze at the taffy curiously. You’ve never seen him offer another person one of his precious taffies before. Hmm. “...Yes, thanks.” 

You take it delicately, unwrapping the wrapper and taking a bite of it experimentally. It’s very lightly sweet, soft and chewy and surprisingly pleasant. 

Sapnap watches you from the corner of his eye, softly smiling when he sees you eat the rest of it. Glad to see someone else has good tastes around here.)

#8. George-

Meager man makes a meager meal. I said what I said!!! This flatbread boy knows diddly squat, and the only things he can cook successfully are bread and mushroom soup. Which he will make. And that’s all he’ll make. Any food that isn’t that is cooked by either Bad or Dream, and he’s still picky about it.

He’ll make you the soup and bread ladies and gents. I’m not saying they’ll taste great together, but he will definitely make them for you. Anything else he’s pretty critical about, and he doesn’t care much for treats or dessert. He does occasionally like dark chocolate though, which he and Dream will beg Bad to make for them. Soon he begs you to make it for him, and then you have to go ask Bad how he makes it so George won’t complain about how it tastes different from Bads. It’s a weird situation. You make a lot of chocolate. Dream and George linger at your house for weeks on end until you get fed up and shoo them away with a broom.

To his credit, even though he can’t cook much, he’s really proud of his mushroom stew. Any time you let him cook, his go-to is his mushroom stew. He likes to feed you and know that you’re not hungry somewhere, and to top it off he gets to show you his prized dish; not Bad’s or Dream’s stew, but his. He’s cute or whateva…

(George places the bowl down in front you, stepping back and turning to grab his own, before sitting down next to you. He immediately begins to eat, and you give him a half glance as you bring the soup up to smell it. 

It… doesn’t smell that bad, actually. Not burnt, at least. You spoon some of the soup into your mouth. 

Despite all you’ve seen of George’s cooking, this is pretty well made. It’s nice and warm, and the flavors are rich and the mushrooms soft. You choose to ignore the small smile of his face next to you, and keep eating your soup quietly together.)

#9: Wilbur

Wilbur can’t cook for shit. Literally nothing. This man knows apples grow from trees and that animals are made of meat and that’s it.

You think Wilbur made any of his food when he was president or exiled or ever? Not a chance. He ate anything given to him, Tubbo and Tommy absolutely brought this man all the food they could find so he wouldn’t get eat straight trash or starve throughout the presidency. Techno slid him bare cooked potatoes in Pogtopia and he thought “oh this slaps….. this is the pinnacle of food”

Which I know, not really sexy. But! This means that the moment you feed him something a step up from a bare cooked potato he is in food heaven. He especially loves saucier kinds of foods with lots of flavor and spice to them, it’s just so fucking good. Food becomes his kryptonite after you feed this silly man.

With sweets, however, he isn’t that much of a fan. He does like those small lemon creme crackers, and you and da boys are the only ppl he’ll share them with.

(You hear him before you see him. The familiar clambering at your window draws your attention away from the pork you were dicing, and one look over your shoulder shows a disheveled but grinning Wilbur. 

“I hope I’m not too late for dinner.” He jokes, brushing off his pants before approaching you to press a kiss to your temple. Soon after that you hear another set of clambering, and two pairs of stomps reveals one Tommy and one Tubbo respectively. 

“What’s for dinner tonight, mate?” 

“Hope you don’t mind if we join in!” 

You sigh, turning back to hide your smile before they can see it.)

// Hope you enjoyed! I might write a pt2 of this later with some other ppl in it lol we’ll see :3

#mcyt x reader #c: dream #c: george #c: sapnap #c: badboyhalo #c: wilbur #c: technoblade #c: philza #c: quackity #c: fundy #c: schlatt #hc #hc: call this the 'can they cook section' #pt1 maybe ;3 #fluff #rada rada #dream x reader #georgenotfound x reader #sapnap x reader #badboyhalo x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #philza x reader #quackity x reader #fundy x reader #schlatt x reader

[bbugyu]

hi can i request a wonwoo friends to lovers!!

abso-fuckin-tutely! since you were a lil vague, i asked my friendly neighborhood wonwoorideul for a prompt and she shouted out the song nothing by bruno major (aka one of the sweetest songs on wonwoo's spotify playlist)!

nothing + jeon wonwoo

moving in with your best friend was the best idea you ever had, even if he claimed it was his.

wc.3707 | fluff, angst, roommates/friends to lovers au, gn reader, like one swear and it barely counts bc it was hoshi, slowburn pining, wonwoo sees you and his mind is full of poetry, happy ending! (jp ver.)

thank you so much for my very first request! i tried to post this quickly, so i’m sorry if it’s not as polished as my other pieces. i was so impatient to get this out hahah. i love me some domestic wonwoo

*

wonwoo wasn't just your roommate, to be perfectly frank. the lanky guy had wormed his way into your close circle when you had worked part time together at a grocery store fresh out of high school, and when you both decided you needed to be closer to the big city, it just made sense to go together. you had never lived alone before, and your mother had said she would feel better if you had someone she knew around, someone to take care of you for her, even though you insisted you would be fine. she tried to get you to move in with your auntie, and while eating her food would be a definite plus, you absolutely despised the idea of living under the same roof as your chaotic cousin. so, when wonwoo mentioned wanting to get out of your podunk village, you excitedly told him you wanted to move to seoul.

"okay," he had said, looking at you over his comic book as he lounged on your family's couch. "let's go, then."

two months later, his dad was helping the two of you move into a tiny two bedroom apartment in a neighborhood of seoul that housed mostly old married couples, but you liked that it was a little more quiet than downtown. it felt more like home, but busy enough to give you your fill of the city. you could walk down the street to a cafe every morning on your way to the station, headed to your shitty temp desk job that you had just to pay bills. wonwoo was able to transfer to the main seoul office of his existing job as a software engineer, and was even able to work from home most days. you were forever jealous that he could hop onto remote meetings wearing a tie and button up over a pair of sweats. on days that he had to go into the office, though, he would walk with you and point out shops that you had yet to visit in your few months of living in the city.

"since when are you a flowers kinda guy?" you asked, gaze following his finger to the florist shop he pointed out.

he shrugged, adjusting his backpack straps over the blazer he wore. "might be nice for the apartment."

you eyed him. despite knowing him for years, sometimes he still surprised you.

on days that he didn't ride the subway with you, you would come home to find him sitting on the couch, swinging around a digital new york city from a web on the tv. you noticed the potted plant on the kitchen counter when you dropped your keys off in their designated tray. they were red, with tight round petals. you thought they almost looked like roses, but you knew that wasn't right. peonies? begonias? you didn't know enough about flowers to recognize them, but you figured he went to the florist in your neighborhood while you were at work.

he paused his game after landing on a roof somewhere. "how was your day?"

"good," you said, pulling off your light jacket and standing by the couch. "what's with the flowers?"

wonwoo looked around you to the yellow ceramic and red blooms, both colors that suited the other few colorful items in your minimalistic (mostly from having only lived there a few short months) white kitchen. "camellias. i thought they looked nice."

you nodded, thinking that he had more to say, but decided not to press. "have you eaten?"

he stretched on the couch, hands falling to the back of his beanie clad head as he let out a strangled noise. "do i ever eat without you?"

that made you smile. "any thoughts on dinner?"

wonwoo shook his head, settling back into the couch. "what do you feel like?"

"i'm craving pizza."

wonwoo pushed his glasses up his nose and adjusted to fish his phone out of the pocket of his favorite track pants. "go take a shower, i'll order."

you grinned. "you are such a good roommate."

"correction, i'm the best roommate. oh, also," he pointed towards the fridge in the kitchen. "soonyoung came by with side dishes from your aunt."

"oh, thank god," you said, walking over to wash your hands quickly and check the haul. "i was worried we were gonna have to buy kimchi this week. he wasn't annoying, was he?"

wonwoo shook his head, chuckling at the way you talked about your cousin as he tapped through menus on his phone. "he was fine. complained that you weren't here."

"doesn't he have a job?" you opened a plastic container and popped a sweet braised potato into your mouth. your voice was muffled as you chewed. "he knows i get off at five. if he wants to see me he should come when he knows i'll be home."

the small smile on wonwoo's face never left as you rambled about soonyoung, then your fantastic chef of an aunt, and then the new guy that sat at the desk next to you that microwaved fish for lunch. seriously, who microwaves fish? in an office?

wonwoo commiserated with you, then told you to hurry and go wash up, because he had just submitted the pizza order, to which you responded "okay, okay, i'm going. i'll be back in a minute."

after a steam filled shower, you left the bathroom while toweling your damp hair, sporting a plain black v-neck with your, similar to wonwoo's, favorite track pants.

wonwoo looked up and laughed, tugging on the hem of his shirt. "we match."

you eyed one of the several black muscle tanks wonwoo sports regularly and giggled, pulling at the stripes down your pants. "we do. you want wine?"

"hell yeah. friday night, baby."

you laughed, returning to the bathroom to hang your towel before making your way to the kitchen, pulling a couple of stemless wine glasses out of your cabinet. they were the only glasses in the apartment because, as wonwoo had said, your priorities are notoriously bad. but, you reminded him, they worked just fine with water too, so you convinced him that buying real glasses could wait until you were both slightly less busy. you grabbed the bottle of red wine off the counter and looked at the seal. "wonwoo."

"yeah?" he paused his game and looked at you over the small kitchen cart that acted as an island. you held up the wine.

"new bottle."

he sighed dramatically. "what would you do without me?"

you grinned happily as you got the wine opener out of a drawer, holding it out for him. he snatched the bottle and opener from your hands and made a face, but began twisting the corkscrew into the cork nonetheless. you planted your elbow on the wood topped cart and watched him as he tugged out the cork, decidedly ignoring the fact that he was wearing a sleeveless shirt and he definitely looked like he had taken a trip to the gym today. 

"you pour, i always miss."

you laughed, pulling at the shrapnel of the seal that wonwoo always refused to cut away before removing the cork. "maybe if you didn't make the neck such a mess it wouldn't go everywhere when we pour it."

"unnecessary step," he retorted, watching you as you poured the wine into the two glasses. he took the one closest to him as you finished. "cheers."

"cheers," you repeated, clinking your glass against his and taking a gulp. you let out a noise of approval. "happy friday."

wonwoo was smiling as he took a sip. "happy friday."

"where's the pizza?"

"uh," he patted his empty pockets, then put down his wine glass to retrieve his phone from the couch. "down the street."

wonwoo had to shove his feet into a pair of slides to meet the delivery person at the entrance of your building, and when he returned, you were giggling into your glass at your sns feed. the wine hit maybe a little too hard, but you hadn't eaten in too long for you to have almost polished off a glass already.

wonwoo gestured for you to join him on the couch, so you grabbed the bottle of wine and tucked it under your arm, carrying the two glasses over to where he was shutting off his game.

you ate merrily, and then you talked. about nothing and everything all at the same time. this happened more often than you ever thought it would, but a week into living in the city, wonwoo had come home from hanging out with some old friends to you crying on the couch with a show on that was far too comical to be the source of your tears. that night, he stayed up with you until the sun was peeking up over the buildings, listening to your worries and struggles. he shared his own fears. you were a blubbering mess. he kept sniffling his nose, acting like the tears welling up in his eyes weren't there when you laughed, despite yourself. wonwoo and you had always been close, or as close as past coworkers that had the same friend circle could be, but this was different. you couldn't remember the last time you had cried like that in front of anyone, much less someone who wasn't your mother.

when you woke up on the couch past noon, your sunday to a late start, your arms were wrapped around wonwoo's torso as he slept, one hand tucked behind his head and the other on your back. his face was inches from yours. your cheeks were pink and you suddenly felt hot, trying as gently as you could to escape without waking him. he stirred, but only to readjust as you snuck away.

he said nothing about the cuddling when he woke to the sound of you closing the front door, and you smiled as you held out the iced americano you got him at the cafe down the street. he squinted at you and scratched his head, taking the drink and sipping it before even testing his voice.

"thanks."

he looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. "what? you bought coffee. thank you."

you sat next to him and swirling the straw in your own drink. "no, i mean for staying up with me. sorry i was a mess."

there was a pause, and your heart almost stopped when he put an arm over your shoulder. "you weren't. and i'll stay up with you whenever you want."

wonwoo sipped at his drink again, giving you a light squeeze when a tear fell down your cheek.

living together meant you saw a side of him you had never seen before. the little things he did throughout his day, when he wasn't even particularly conscious that you were in the same room as him. he always bit at his thumb when he was working, and he had a habit of leaving the milk carton open in the fridge. he always made you smile when he emerged from his room with his headphones loud enough for you to hear them from across the room, and he cluelessly bobbed his head to whatever he was listening to while he refilled a water bottle, waving and smiling before he returned to his room. when your mom asked you how living with wonwoo was, you told her he was great. clean, respectful, and quiet. that you had never been closer. that he made you feel safer so far from home. you didn't, however, tell her that you discovered that he liked running home from the gym at 2 pm on the weekends, laying out on the floor with his shirt over his head before he convinced himself to take a shower.

you had always thought wonwoo was cute. how could you not? he was a handsome guy, but you had accepted your place as a friend to him and happily let it progress no further. but, now that you spent your afternoons off arguing with him on whether or not showering was even worth the trouble, you couldn't help but stare at him. watching his toned chest rise and fall as you thought about how he had admitted his crippling fear of failure to you at three in the morning when your face was puffier than a padded jacket.

you never noticed, but wonwoo watched you closer than he did anything in his life. that night, when he found you crying, he felt his heart clench as you told him all your insecurities. when he had pulled you into his chest and held you tight as you questioned whether moving so far from home was a mistake, he patted your hair and told you that it was going to be fine. you had him, afterall. he had you. the two of you could make it out here. and if you still wanted to go home when the lease was up in six months, he would be there to help you move back.

he didn't stop holding you until your breathing settled, your shoulders stopped shaking. he leaned back into the couch, bringing you with him, and you didn't protest when he ran his hand up and down your back, coaxing you to sleep.

since then, every time you spoke to him, he couldn't help but stare at you intently. he watched your eyes light up while you talked about something you loved. he watched you scrunch your nose as you talked about your new desk neighbor. he watched your lips push into a pout when he said he should go get some work done. he wondered if anyone else noticed the way you sucked on your teeth while you thought up a witty comeback, or the way you carded your fingers through your still wet hair. or the way your eyes creased into a laugh, your hand coming up to block your open mouth. or the way you chewed on your red wine stained lip while he tried to form a sentence in response, when all he wanted to do was put those lips on his.

wonwoo had been stewing with these feelings far longer than he thought bearable, but stuffed it down in fear that he might lose you altogether. he didn't want to lose you altogether. he had gone on a walk halfway through his workday at home, feeling antsy for no particular reason, though if he thought about it long enough he would have realised it was because you had said something about feeling lonely lately that morning. he saw the florist he had pointed out the week before, and his feet brought him through the door.

"hi!" he looked up from the colorful display by the door to the person behind the counter and smiled politely. "did you need help finding something?"

"um," wonwoo blinked and looked around for a moment, then moved towards the counter. "i need a gift, i think."

the florist's eyebrows quirked curiously. "you think?"

he nodded, eyes flicking down to the nametag on his chest. he wondered if he was a foreigner with his three character name, but didn't mention it. "yeah. housewarming. for my, uh-" wonwoo paused, catching himself not knowing how to describe his relationship to you. roommate? wannabe lover? he bit his cheek. "my friend."

joshua nodded slowly, watching wonwoo's eyes as he worked his way through the sentence. "just friend?"

wonwoo stared at a flower arrangement to his right. "something like that."

"got it." joshua walked around the counter and gestured for wonwoo to follow him deeper into the store. "since it's a housewarming, how about a potted plant? something to brighten up the space for a long time. they'll think about you every time they see it."

wonwoo nodded, not saying anything about how funny he thought it was that he said he was getting his own roommate a housewarming gift. "that sounds nice."

"now, i'm not gonna claim to know you," the florist started, putting up his hands to exaggerate his words, they kept moving as he pushed and pulled pots, looking for one in particular. "you've said, like, maybe a full sentence to me, but those were some complex emotions when you called them a friend, so i'm gonna assume i know the situation. i think you should get camellias. specifically red ones."

wonwoo looked at the sunshine yellow pot in the soft featured man's hands. the petals of the flower were round and delicate, and he thought about how you said the color yellow made you happy. "why's that?"

"i think you should look up the meaning when you give them this," joshua said, and for some reason, wonwoo trusted him.

he came back to the apartment thinking about how he might have just gotten scammed into buying the potted flowers in his hands, only to find soonyoung about to hit the buzzer to call your unit, a far too large cooler bag sitting on the bench by the entrance of your building.

"is y/n around?" soonyoung asked, trailing behind wonwoo as they walked up the stairs, struggling slightly with the overpacked bag. "they didn't respond to my kakao."

"they're at work," he replied, flipping his keys over in his hands to find the one for your front door. "they'll be home around six."

"ah, shit," soonyoung laughed. "i always forget you guys have adult jobs. i would kill for a monday through friday."

wonwoo almost laughed, but left the smile on his face. "weekends are kind of overrated, anyways."

the shorter hoisted the bag of dishes onto the kitchen cart while wonwoo closed the door. "who're the flowers for?"

wonwoo stared at the pot in his arm as if it was the first time he had seen it. "oh, uh. just the place."

"for y/n?"

he looked at soonyoung, who had his chin in his palms, elbows planted on the counter as he smiled. he knew he was right when wonwoo didn't respond.

"i think they'll like them," he said, unzipping the top of the bag and starting to unload his mother's packaged dishes for his cousin. "they like the color yellow."

wonwoo just said "i know," before he opened the fridge and started rearranging things to fit the new food.

according to soonyoung, wonwoo was painfully obvious. when he had come by a couple weeks prior, you were arguing with him about some ridiculous childhood memory at your grandparents' home, and while soonyoung laughed, he noticed the smile on wonwoo's face when he watched you. he also noticed the way he instinctively put a hand on your back when you sighed about your newest temp gig, and soonyoung pulled on his ear as he looked at the ceiling, leaning against the kitchen cart much like he was today as he told wonwoo about how oblivious his cousin must be.

you pulled your knees to your chest as you sipped at your wine, the pizza box almost completely polished off by the two of you sitting on the floor in front of your couch. you stare at the pot of flowers.

"they're pretty," you said finally.

you too, wonwoo thought.

"camellias, right?" you turned back to him. "i like them."

i like you, wonwoo thought. "i went to that place down the street. the guy working was nice."

you nodded, sipping again. "any reason in particular?"

"i-" wonwoo paused, staring at his glass. he finished the last gulp in it and put it on the floor next to the pizza box. "you said something about being down recently," he said, folding his fingers together as he leaned back against the couch. "i wanted to get you something, i guess."

you watched his fingers as they pushed his glasses up his nose again, and your heart fluttered at the idea of wonwoo thinking about you when you weren't around. "really? that's so nice," you pouted, shoving his knee.

he laughed, pulling his knee onto the couch to face you. "the guy there - the florist, i guess? his name was joshua. he seemed to really know flowers." he knitted his brows together when he realized he was procrastinating on saying what he was nervous to. he put his arm on the back of the couch, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm before continuing. "he said i should look up what they mean when i give them to you. red ones, specifically."

you perked up, heart racing. "what they mean? they have meaning?"

"y-yeah, i guess so," wonwoo said, then cleared his throat. 

"hey google!" you looked over to where the device sat by your tv. "what to red camellias mean?"

wonwoo stared at your profile as you watched the device think before its automated voice piped up.

"camellia flowers are available in white, pink, and red, with each color having its own unique symbolism."

you looked over to him, excitedly putting your glass to your lips as the voice continued.

"pink camellias symbolize a longing for someone, and is given to people who are missed."

wonwoo swallowed hard, fingers fidgeting against his temple.

"red camellias symbolize love, passion, and a deep desire."

your eyes widened slightly as the device shut off, glass still to your lips and eyes still on wonwoo's. he stared back at you, and you wondered if he meant it. but he never claimed that he didn't feel those things for you.

before you could think, you clumsily put your glass on the floor and moved. you didn't stop moving until your lips were on wonwoo's, pushing him back into the arm of the couch as you practically crawled into his lap.

his hands found your hips and he helped you settle into him, your fingers tracing his jawline as it worked against yours. you sighed into his lips as his hand slid up under your shirt, placed gently on the small of your back. pulling you into him. when you paused for a moment, you thought about waking up to this exact same view, that day after you had cried all night. but this time, his other hand pulled your jaw back to kiss him again, and you happily complied.

#YAAAA #thank you so much for requesting i owe you my life #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #jeon wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #yoonpancake #requested #i wrote dis #do i have a wonu tag yet #sure dont #wonton

[sunseteyes]

THE WINTER I HELD YOU

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ STARRING: satori tendou; gn!reader

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ THEMES: suggestive, domestic fluff

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ WORD COUNT: 1, 002 words

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ SYNOPSIS: mornings with satori were intimate, most especially when you recall of the previous night and reminisce over them.

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ INTERMISSION: this is for a secret santa in a server collab~ merry christmas to @kawaii-cthulhu !! i hope you enjoy reading this~

[10:15 AM]

the weight of your body never felt heavier than before the moment you have regained your consciousness, your senses bringing you back into a reality that your unconsciousness failed to give you from how different it was from your dream.

embracing reality also made you realize that you were wrapped around the arms of the same man that held you the previous night, and actually the others too.

a smile instantly crawls its way to your lips, a rush of warmth running to your chest as you lean forward, the arm that was already by his waist further wrapping tighter than how it had been seconds before you found yourself awake.

your eyes scanned his face, every little crease and crevice, no matter how imperfect they may look from others’ point of view, he’s perfect in your eyes.

he looks so perfect.

your hand raises to the side of his face, eventually gently caressing his hair, combing the fiery red strands to the back of his head, being able to feel the slight sweat that emitted during his and your sleep. it only gave way to the memories of the scenes that happened before you two were too tired to stay awake; the feeling, the noises, the thickness of the air, it was as if they happened a few seconds ago.

satori looks peaceful as he sleeps, unlike when he was busy ruining with your head and your body last night or the previous nights when you two were craving for each other’s warmth.

your hands ran from his hair down to the back of his neck, the strands slipping down your fingers much softer than you did last night. you could still remember how you’ve gripped on them when he was in between of your legs, his face sooner coming into view when he looks up and shows you a loop-sided grin, one that you never had the chance to decide whether you were irritated or not due to him hiding his face away again, resuming to what he was doing beforehand.

the cold made you snuggle further into satori’s warmth, his chest being your source of heat as you also felt him snake and drape his arms further around you, beginning to wake from his peaceful slumber little by little.

he shuffles closer to you until there were no more space left, his eyes fluttering open, however still refusing to fully accommodate the sudden brightness of the surroundings.

“good morning” you let out, the strangeness of your voice catching you off-guard.

he looks at you, who’s currently snuggled to his chest, seemingly comfortable from being under his arms and touch.

“did ya have a good sleep, (y/n)?” he inquired, letting his fingers reach up to brush them on your hair and scalp, just like what you did to him earlier whilst he was asleep still.

a smile plays by your lips as you nod enthusiastically, sooner burying your head by the warmth of his neck. “i did, surprisingly.” you giggled. “this is probably one of the times i didn’t wake up in the middle of the night. i’ve got to thank you for that, satori.”

he feels a pleasant rush of air wash over his chest, its freshness travelling to every tip of his fingers and toes. “i’m glad. i must be your medicine for your insomnia, then,” he chuckles. “should i always stay over here to check out if my superpowers really work?”

you scoff and smile at his suggestion, “yeah, maybe you should.” and yet deep inside, there was a longing that made its way to your mind, reminded of how much you should treasure this winter morning especially since you don’t get that many moments like this before. additionally, it was also not just a regular holiday today—it’s christmas, your very first time with satori. you’d rather not waste them second-guessing than spend it focusing on the only person you’d cross the whole world with.

“are you still sleepy?” you inquire as he pressed a kiss by your forehead, still holding you as close as possible.

“yeah, let’s stay in bed for awhile, sweet cheeks.”

“sweet cheeks?” you scoff at another one of satori’s endearments. by then, you felt your stomach grumble, ruining the moment ever so impatiently.

“i want to stay,” you breathe out before pulling yourself from satori’s arms, sitting up on the bed to have him look up at you with squinting eyes. “but you know i have to make breakfast for the two of us, right?”

there’s a contemplating look on him, his lips pursing together while he has his arms crossed on his chest.

“what? why are you looking at me like that?” you tilt your head to the side, observing more of his actions and expressions.

“hmmm,” he hummed, “you look more different than usual.”

“different?” you muse, “how so?”

he sits up, moving his hands now to his chin, still looking as if he was trying to think hard of a word to describe you—which apparently seems to be what he'd be aiming at.

“i mean, you have this… glow.” he gestured towards you, like when spongebob said “it’s a metaphor” back when you watched it while you were a kid. you laugh after a few moments of realizing what he meant, tackling and pinning him unto the bed, placing yourself on top of him with a grin on your face

“what’re you doing now, (y/n)? are you hungry for something else?” he smirks and yet he doesn’t pull away his wrist from your grasp. he was only teasing you, like every other time he had the chance to.

“it’s your fault, satori.” you taunted, mirroring his own expression, immediately seeing the change in his demeanor.

just before he had the chance to say anything more, you move away, climbing out of the bed as fast as you could and balance your way to the ground.

“i’ll be making breakfast so come by the kitchen when i call your name, okay?”

#satori tendou #tendou x reader #tendou x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #tendou imagine #explicit🔞 #because it’s suggestive hehe

[wyofabdoms]

Undercover I Do - Chapter 3

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, hospitalization, blood and injury, soft Javi, brief mention of domestic Javi, mentions of some smexy stuff, unrequited feels, lots of medical things that are probably wrong but I did a five minute internet search so we’re gonna call it good, okay?

Word Count: 1982

Notes: You're awake....but what do you remember?

Read on Ao3

Every inch of your body felt like it had been smashed with a heavy hammer.  The soreness seemed to echo and reverberate up and down, through your wrists, through your calves, along your hips, up your back.  Everything was black and you sluggishly realized it was because your eyes were closed.  Based on the way your body was feeling, though, you didn’t have much desire to open your eyes.

You did anyway, feeling like Sisyphus hauling his boulder up a hill at the effort it took to simply lift your eyelids.  Blurry daylight streamed through the vinyl shades of a window.  A news program was playing on a muted television in the corner.  The parts of the room you could see were stark and sparse: clearly a hospital room.  You tried turning your head to survey the rest of the room and groaned, a shrieking thumping in your head threatening to send you right back into the blackness of unconsciousness you had just come from.  You heard rustling coming from somewhere on your other side, out of your vision; then a wizened older woman with chin length grey hair stepped into your line of sight.  She looked at you earnestly and brushed a smooth, dry palm softly across the top of your head, pushing your hair back and murmuring your name.  

You struggled to place this woman’s face….your mother?  No, that wasn’t right.  You got a maternal feeling from her, certainly, but this woman wasn’t your mother...so who was she?  Your brain grasped to remember.  

“It’s all right,” the woman spoke and her voice was gentle but commanding, calm, steady with a flint of authority.  “You’re safe.  You’ve been unconscious for a while and had a nasty head injury.  Take it slow...don’t push yourself too hard.”  As she spoke, she pressed a recessed button next to you on the hospital bed, calling for a nurse and half asking, half ordering said nurse to get the doctor down here to check on you immediately.  This woman was clearly used to having people do what she said.  She sat next to you, a comforting hand resting on your forearm.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over.”  Your voice croaked and something clicked in your mind.  You flicked your eyes back to the woman.  “I’m in Columbia, right?”  The woman nodded slowly, her eyes searching your face.  “Bogota?”  Another confirmation.  You carefully turned your head and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember, feeling your mind spinning like tires in mud trying to get traction as you tried to remember what had landed you in this hospital bed.  A memory of this woman’s face rose in front of you, sitting behind a large desk in an office, poring over maps and files and directing yourself and others.  “Agent Dixon.”  You said, flashing your eyes back to her.  Her face appeared years younger as a smile spread on her lips and you made your own attempt at a small smile as memories of your mentor seeped into your mind, like water finding cracks in a sidewalk.

The doctor arrived then and proceeded to examine you, asking you questions about what you did and didn’t remember: names, dates, presidents.  Already confirming that you were in Columbia, you also remembered you work as a DEA agent, having been stationed here for close to two years now.  You did most of the talking while the doctor and Dixon merely asked you questions, elaborating on how you had ended up in the hospital: the DEA had been tracking a drug lord with lofty and insidious aspirations named Rafel Ortiz, an operation to capture him and his network that hadn’t gone as planned, you had been injured during the operation, though after a meaningful shared look across your hospital bed, neither Dixon nor the doctor gave any details as to said operation, nor how you had sustained your injuries.  As the doctor finished up, you lifted your hand to brush a stray piece of hair that was tickling your face beneath the bandage on your head.  Your eyes caught a glint of something on your finger.  You stopped, remembering through a fog: photographs with you in them, a warm grip on your hand, a gentle kiss on your forehead, a panic-stricken voice filled with concern calling for you to wake up, then the same husky, low voice whispering to you to sleep well, calling you “princess”.  Your eyes turned with concern from the ring on your finger to the doctor and Dixon.

“Where is he? Is he ok?”  Another shared glance between the two across your bed.  Your heart sank.  Dixon spoke quietly after a moment.

“Where is who?”

“I don’t remember his name.  The man in the pictures...he was with me in the ambulance.  Where’s my husband?”

****

Javier had managed to sleep, though certainly not well.  He knew he looked like shit as he stalked through the halls of the hospital.  He’d managed to make himself look slightly less of a mess than yesterday after a shower and change of clothes this morning, but he didn’t feel much better.  Beneath his pounding head and screaming muscles, a bubbling of worry simmered and all he wanted was to get back to the hospital and wait for his partner to open her eyes, to give him a wry smile and shoot him some teasing barb about how much worse for wear he looked than she did.  

They’d almost pulled it off, the two of them. He had felt a little ridiculous during the pre-op: having his finger measured for a ring that fit properly, posing with his partner for “engagement photos” in the small garden courtyard of the DEA office building, then changing into formal wear and recreating what would hopefully look like a sweet moment from a wedding ceremony, but was really a job of play acting in front of a blank wall in a conference room.  They’d set up in the large house on the outskirts of the city, posing as a freshly arrived expat couple, newly married and looking to supplement his international banking career by padding it with up and coming connections in the cocaine trade.  They’d “been married” for a little over two weeks, operating normally as agents and partners when on their own, but putting on a convincing performance as a newlywed couple when entertaining or meeting with Ortiz or any of his men.

Javier couldn’t lie to himself.  He had always been attracted to his partner.  She was smart, feisty, independent, strong-willed, and beautiful...oh so beautiful.  When they had first started working together he had pursued her relentlessly for a grand total of three days before she had knocked him across the face and nearly twisted his hand off when he had gotten grabby.  In no uncertain terms, she had made it crystal clear that no, she was not interested in sleeping with him, she had no desire to be a notch on anyone’s bedpost (much less his), that he was being an absolute pig for assuming that she was and that if he ever tried to grab her ass or any part of her again without permission she would shoot him in the dick.

That had been well on two years ago and thinking back, it was probably in that very moment when she had growled at him and he had stared up at her from where she had landed him on the bar floor, that he had started to fall for his partner.  After that night, he had never made another attempt to pursue her...at least not physically.  There had been times, over one too many drinks at a bar or over shitty take out or during a late night glance through the smoky haze from the cigarettes they would chain smoke, that he had seen something in her eyes.  Something that had made him pause and wonder if things had perhaps changed...if maybe the needle had moved for her, if she thought differently now.  They had been through so much together, had grown so close. But he had never been quite brave enough to ask.  And she had so often made her opinion abundantly clear on considering him merely her partner; teasing him about being able to outrun him in a foot chase, scowling in distaste whenever his amorous methods with his informants came up, screaming at him at least twice a week for over some disagreement or another.  

He had liked being “married” to her, though.  For just a little while, he had gotten a taste of what domesticity might be like for Javier Peña: jaded DEA agent.  He had liked the excuse to hold her hand at dinner in a restaurant or place his hand on the small of her back while walking...all of the moments when he could give her little touches: a brush of her cheek with the back of his hand, a kiss to her temple.  

Then there had been the moments that stirred something deeper than his interest in domesticity.  When she had sat on his lap after dinner and nibbled on his ear while he talked business with Ortiz.  When they had attended a party the drug lord had hosted and Javi had found his hands exploring the smooth planes of her body, her fingers knotted in his hair, pressing the occasional kiss to the other’s lips as they danced recklessly until the early morning hours.  He had felt like it had been real, moments like those.  As though the pretense of their undercover personas gave permission for their unspoken craving for each other to float to the surface and be reality, even if just for a little while. Kisses for the benefit of their marks had seemed to linger just a few moments longer than necessary, her lips had discovered the spot on his neck below his ear that drove him crazy and seemed to just naturally end up there whenever they had to “act” married. 

Then there had been that last night before everything had fallen apart: the two of them pressed together for a moment in panic, trying to keep themselves hidden from the suspicious gaze of Ortiz’s men...then suddenly pressed together like lovers, hands under clothes, groping and grappling for purchase on each others’ skin wherever they could find it, the smell of the plumeria trees wafting over them. Javi knew it had only been to cover the fact that they had been snooping somewhere they shouldn’t have been, but he couldn’t shake the way that moment had made him feel: as though suddenly every barrier and wall that separated he and his partner had crashed and crumbled between them.  If they hadn’t been discovered as DEA later that evening Javi wondered what might have happened when they had returned to “their” house….

No. He couldn’t let himself dwell on those kinds of “what ifs” right now.  He shook himself as he rounded the corner and spotted Dixon and the doctor standing outside your hospital door, speaking intently. As he approached, Dixon glanced at him and both of them abruptly stopped talking.

“Peña, what are you doing here?  Shouldn’t you be at the office?  I’m sure you have a report to fill out...” Javi shot her an annoyed look.

“I just wanted to stop by on my way, see how she’s doing….” He trailed off, looking back and forth between Dixon and the doctor, waiting for one or both of them to give him an update.  When none came, he irritatedly asked, “Well?….How’s she doing?”  Worry tugged at him as he saw the look that passed between them.

“Agent Peña…” Dixon said slowly. She gestured to one of the crappy plastic chairs along the wall outside the rooms.  “Have a seat.  We need to talk.”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10,  Chapter 11,  Chapter 12,  Chapter 13

#javier peña x reader #javi #javier pena x female reader #narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #undercover marriage

[wangxiandecoded]

Episode 5

Previous Episode | Next Episode

(Spoilers for the whole show ahead!)

Episode 5 is chock full of moments and fun romantic tropes that make it hard to believe this show passed the censorship. 

Wei Ying has already taken Lan Zhan as his soulmate of many lifetimes and started confiding secrets in him. He gets dragged away to copy all the rules he broke but it’s ok Wei Ying, Lan Zhan has to notice the undeniable chemistry you share at some point.  

The Yiling Patriarch Invented Gay Pining 

The sheer amount of pining in this scene.. How did he not burn a hole through the library?

Guy takes a break from admiring the beauty of his crush, starts admiring his calligraphy instead.

The Many Names Wei Ying Calls Him

Calling your beloved by his every name to get his attention. Success! He responds to the name with intimate connotations. But oh no! He actually looked at you! What do you do now? Head empty. Quick! Ask him why he’s ignoring you and subtly remind him that he has the right to express his anger by using your formal name for completely logical reasons. 

I understand Wei Ying's feelings, it must be maddening to meet the love of your life and want to skip to the domestic stages of romance, when he still considers you an unruly stranger who has no business with him.

Can we take a second to appreciate what a pure soul Wei Ying is for wanting to constantly do better and learn what he did for Lan Zhan to hate him so much? He apologizes not once but repeatedly for breaking the rules and assures Lan Zhan he would never attack him with the intention to harm. (Wei Ying sweetie, you did nothing wrong, he just isn't ready to admit you're melting his heart.) 

All he wants is your attention. Just spare him some him, Lan Zhan! I have no clue how someone can say no to Wei Ying when he’s being this cute. Lan Zhan’s self-restraint must really be something else.

This line and Wei Ying's gay ass smile is so damning. I do not know how some Chinese censor officials did not have conniptions over this.. were they too blinded by heteronormativity, perhaps? Even Lan Zhan has had enough and charms him into silence.

Looking At Him When He’s Not Looking

Looking at your bro when you think he isn't aware you're looking at him, but he's actually painting a portrait of you when you aren't looking at him. I’m done with these idiots.

Wei Ying's heartfelt apology is obvious to us but Lan Zhan's definition of sincerity is abiding by the rules, which Wei Ying gives into for him, with a lot of effort. If that’s not love, what is? 

More pining. Wei Ying makes one last attempt at wooing Lan Zhan for the day by giving him a parting gift. (For what exactly? Monitoring him while he carried out his punishment? Love is so irrational, y’all.)

The last touch he gives to Lan Zhan's portrait is adding a flower to his forehead ribbon. This is how Wei Ying really sees Lan Zhan - not as the intimidating Lan Wangji from Gusu Lan clan, but the guy he finds cute when he's lost in concentration. It pains me to see Wei Ying do so much to win his heart.

Lan Zhan Thinks Everything Wei Ying Does Is “Boring”

Wei Ying asks him to say something other than “boring” for a change and this is his reply. What makes their relationship so captivating is their contrasting personalities. Every time Lan Zhan thinks Wei Ying is being ridiculous and goes, “Boring,” I think he actually finds Wei Ying kind of amazing and that’s annoying because it is nothing but a hindrance to the way of life expected from him. It is boring and ridiculous to Lan Zhan that he is starting to get used to Wei Ying’s presence in his life. It is boring that he’s beginning to notice and personally care for a single person instead of the world. It is boring how someone is breaking the seamless silence Lan Zhan has spent most his life wrapped up in and suddenly making it overflow with words - words he does not vocalize but Wei Ying hears anyway. That’s what finding the right person feels like, after all. So it is boring that Wei Ying, with his stupid grin, is so close to coming into his life, throwing out the worldly matters Lan Zhan is supposed to be devoted to and asking him, “Lan Zhan, isn’t it funny that I’m your worldly matter now?” 

I guess Wei Ying does get his wish in the end. Lan Zhan erupts and calls him "Wei Ying" for the first time ever because he made him open an erotic book, more specifically one that features explicit gay art. The production team is so slick, I felt giddy the first time I saw this. But still, I don’t think Lan Zhan was being fair, I’m sure he broke a rule that said it’s a great offense to reject someone’s gift. 

Lan Zhan strikes me as a closeted baby gay raised on ascetic principles, and Wei Ying’s confident chaotic bi energy is predictably sending his poor world for a toss. No wonder he was ready to duel it out with him. What are the implications of this, Wei Ying? You showed a Lan clan member gay erotic art and assured him there is absolutely nothing wrong in enjoying it. Do you want to kill him? 

And remember Wei Ying got this book from Nie Huaisang who has also been queer-coded. After a point, you lose sight of how many characters seem hella gay on this show.

Nonetheless, it is impressive that there is someone who can make the disciplined, detached Hanguang-Jun lose his calm and even get him to swear. Of course it ends up being something for Wei Ying to brag about later. It is indeed an accomplishment that few people can claim as their own.

Can We Buy An Island For Our President Zewu Jun?

Zewu Jun is not even being subtle here. Why is he smiling? Seriously, why?! The fact that his brother called this guy by his formal name which can be used only by people you're close to? The fact that he followed Wei Ying to the secluded part of the Cloud Recesses? Or because he was unable to find the real person since he's fixated on Wei Ying? Knowing our President, it's probably all of the above.

The show's clever usage of Zewu Jun as the emotional compass who points precisely to what Lan Zhan feels is definitely one of my favorite things. We see that Lan Zhan often says one thing about Wei Ying but means another and Zewu Jun is the stand-in for the audience who knows the truth.

We can see the contrast of a speechless Lan Zhan when Zewu Jun confronts him about wanting Wei Ying's company versus the facade he puts on when actually in Wei Ying's company. That's it for today's analysis, folks.

The Aqua Demon Hunt Is The First Testament To Their Chemistry

Wangxian end up sharing a room. (Do we have the President to thank for that?) Lan Zhan being all "Time for me to go meditate in solitude" and Wei Ying being ".... about how we belong together!"

Rewatching these scenes is definitely bad for my heart. The unconcealed disappointment on Wei Ying's face when Lan Zhan turns down his bet to prove their like-mindedness really sends. (Is this the ancient equivalent of a love calculator, Wei Ying? How did the Yiling Patriarch never invent a device like that, I wonder.)

Lan Zhan, did he really deserve this? He just wants to show you what an incredible, unmatchable team you both will make! And he is so good at reading your mind.

Just smiling at the fact that your bro exists for no apparent reason in middle of a hunt. Wei Ying sure has his priorities straight, even if nothing else in his life is.

Wangxian Are The Dream Team

Wei Ying distracting the water ghost and saving Lan Zhan at the same time so effortlessly? A stroke of admirable genius! I probably need to start a separate post to keep track of all the times Wangxian's teamwork puts everyone else to shame. Notice how every time Lan Zhan said "boring" in this episode, it was directed only at Wei Ying’s romantic gestures. 

It's that little shoulder bump that screams "I'm sorry I splashed water at you, I did out of my love for you, okay?"

I'm sorry Wei Ying, he just needs more time to process the fact that you are the unrivalled candidate for a cultivation partner he has ever come across. And if you ever get confused why Zewu Jun is mysteriously smiling at various points in the show, it's probably a "My brother is falling in love, good for him, good for him" smile.

Wei Ying’s little head tilt after they both defeat the water ghost that came for their boat that says, “See? We belong together.” 

When Lan Zhan learns why Suibian is called so and thinks, "My crush is a fucking idiot, love that for me.“ 

Wei Ying always understands what Lan Zhan is thinking or wants to say without him having said a word. Soulmates.

Thank you water ghosts for ensuring they both end up on the same boat and giving them the chance to display their spectacular synchronization. Maybe it’ll help Lan Zhan wake up.

I rejoice every time there is a juxtaposition of Wangxian with the straight couples because it proves our main characters are travelling the same romantic arc the others are.

Saving Him For The First Time

Lan Zhan rescues Wei Ying in the nick of time! Sure, that’s the Right Thing to do but do you see his expression? That’s unbridled shock that Wei Ying is going to die. And the matter of utmost importance to Wei Ying in this life-or-death situation is the fact that Lan Zhan isn't holding his hand after the "intimate" experiences they’ve shared. I cannot.

Ok Lan Zhan.. You don't touch people.. Let’s see who the exception is. But honestly we get it, just swooping in to save him was a lot to handle, holding his hand would have been a gay apocalypse on your heart.

Wei Ying Is Growing On Lan Zhan

Lan Zhan finally admits Wei Ying could be right, because annoying as he is, his deductions are brilliant. 

We learn Lan Zhan is secretly craving loqauts but throws it back when Wei Ying gives him one. Zewu Jun offers to buy loquats for Lan Zhan, again hinting at his repressed feelings for Wei Ying. 

When we hear a vendor selling Emperor's Smile, do we see Lan Zhan's anti-Wei Ying persona begin to crack or am I seeing things? 

The episode ends with someone (Wei Ying) taking two bottles of Emperor's Smile and paying for it. Whatever happens, Wei Ying is going to sneak his misconduct into the Cloud Recesses and his way into Lan Zhan’s unfaltering heart.

All in all, this was an episode that opened the possibility of Lan Zhan maybe starting to accept that Wei Ying is a nuisance he likes having around. At the very least, he wants to live in a world where Wei Ying is alive and being his unbelievable self. He’s a man of few words and many micro expressions so that’s why it’s so golden on the rare occasions he does slip up and show that he cares about Wei Ying, like saving him in this episode. His actions speak louder than his words, and they ring louder still as show progresses and he becomes the main line of defense between Wei Ying and anyone who so much as thinks about harming him.

Episode 5 drives it home that Wangxian have chemistry that is to be envied and worth investing in. We get the sense that these two are going to be together for a long ass time.

#the untamed #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed analysis #the untamed meta #wangxian analysis #wangxian meta #cql meta #cql episodes #the untamed episodes #wangxian #lan zhan #wei ying #lan wangji #wei wuxian #cql rewatch #the untamed rewatch #mdzs meta

[littleoddwriter]

heyday just got my period sucks super bad haha so my comfort character now has to suffer- could i get transzsasz on his period?

Agony | Roman Sionis & Victor Zsasz

Hey! I hadn't planned on writing any more today, but then I got your request and I couldn't leave you alone in your times of need. I hope you'll be okay and that perhaps this fic can help you through the worst of it. You've got this, mate. <3

summary; Zsasz is on his shark week and in a lot of pain. Surprisingly, Roman is trying his best to help him, eventually.

notes; TW // Periods; Period Cramps; Gender Dysphoria; Feelings of Agony; Intrusive Thoughts; Mentioned Self-Harm/Self-Mutilation. Hurt/Comfort in a way; Domestic (in the end); Trans!Victor Zsasz.

It was that time of the month for Zsasz, and he couldn’t have been closer to taking his favourite knife and driving it into his abdomen to relieve himself.

Not only were the cramps worse than usual – or at least seemed that way – but he felt extremely dysphoric and was so fucking irritated.

He had almost snapped at Roman multiple times this morning. Luckily, he’s been able to catch himself every time still, but he didn’t know how much longer he could do that. It wasn’t his boss’s fault that he was in so much pain and he was supposed to protect and support him, not yell at him. That was Roman’s duty to do with everyone below him; which was everyone.

Wasn’t it just so fucking ironic that he was in so much pain that he could hardly bear it, though? He loved pain, craved it even. He fucking cut himself almost every day after freeing someone, so that it barely hurt anymore at all. But the pain that came with… it… was just so much fucking worse than any wound could ever be. It was pure agony, really.

Internally, he was screaming, wanting it to stop so badly. He didn’t want this shit, didn’t fucking need it. This part of his bodily functions was so useless to him, and he wished his body would have gotten the memo by now and work with him, instead of against.

No such luck, though.

Victor was hunched over, where he’s been standing next to Roman, who’s been talking with some business guy for the past hour. It wasn’t too noticeable that he was bent over a little more than usual, since his posture was always bad like that anyway. He just hoped his expression was as blank as usual, too, because he really didn’t feel like it. He could even feel sweat bead on his forehead.

He’s been so lost in his agonised thoughts that he’s startled a little, when all of a sudden Roman was right in his face, looking him over, searching for something in his expression.

Normally, he’d love having Roman so close, his attention only on him, but right now, he was so close to ripping his head off, if he so much as dared to say the wrong thing.

“What’s wrong with you, Victor?” Sionis asked, sounding – concerned? Was that what his concern sounded like? Zsasz couldn’t possibly tell.

“Nothing, boss. ‘M fine,” he muttered, albeit his voice sounded more strained than he’d have liked. Stupid voice, always betrayed him at the worst times.

Roman looked unimpressed. “You know I always need you at your best, Mr. Zsasz, don’t you? And I can’t shake the feeling that today you certainly are not at your best. Am I wrong?”

“I’m fine, boss. I swear, I’m ready to protect you, no matter what,” Victor lied through his teeth. He wouldn’t dare to admit that, no, Roman wasn’t wrong – He really wasn’t at his best today. Stupid bloody time of the month that no one fucking needed, he thought.

“I really don’t like being lied to. Especially not by my most trusted man. So I’ll ask again. And this time you’d better tell me the fucking truth, ‘kay? Are you at your best today, and if not, what’s wrong with you?”

Victor swallowed thickly, his mind running wild with possible answers that sounded true enough that he might get away with them. On another note, Roman knew Zsasz was trans. And they shared the penthouse, which meant that he’d know what was wrong with him that day sooner or later anyway. Stupid sanitary protection.

Sighing deeply, Victor relented; he didn’t want to lie to Roman, not unless he really had to for his safety, “It’s that time of the month for me, right now. So, you know. I’m in pain, is all.”

“What do you mean ‘that time of the month’?” Roman asked, so genuinely that Zsasz almost laughed in his face. Fuck, he was so uneducated in some areas, but Victor couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t the most educated person, either.

“I’m on my period, boss,” Zsasz dead-panned.

Realisation hit Roman like a truck, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead, understanding overcoming him in shock, and then he looked so mortified and disgusted that it amused Victor a little.

“Ew, Zsasz! Fuck…” Sionis shoved him a little in reaction. Not good.

A shock-wave of pain overcame Victor as his muscles contracted in the most agonising way possible and he felt himself leaking – fuck, it was so disgusting. He doubled over, holding his middle, and groaned. He was so lucky they’d been alone then.

“Fuck, shit, Victor! What the fuck!” Roman exclaimed, taking a step back. “C’mon, you must've felt worse pain in your life. I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

Zsasz glared at his boss from where he was bent over still, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself. Roman just lifted his hands in a placating manner, looking only a little apologetic.

“Fine, maybe it is that bad. What can I do to help you?”

“You don’t have to do anything, boss. Not your job.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you very much for that observation, Victor," Roman replied sarcastically - he was such a bitch - but then his voice softened a little, "I’m offering you my help, so you’d better take me up on that, ‘kay?”

“Fine. Some pain-killers and a heat pad or some shit like that usually does the trick. Then I’d just have to find a position that doesn’t have me screaming in agony.”

“’Kay. I can do that,” Roman nodded. Then he stopped short, looking at Victor curiously – unsure, “Uh- Should I help you upstairs first?”

He was really trying, wasn’t he? It was kind of cute if Zsasz was to be honest.

“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

Victor finally stood more up-right again, most of the sudden up-tick on the pain scale having gone back down again, and started going towards the stairway to the penthouse. Sionis was right behind him and Zsasz could feel his eyes boring into his back, a shiver running down his spine in response.

A little while later, the pain-killers Roman’s gotten him had started to take effect, easing some of the agonising cramps. In addition, he was holding a hot-water bag, which was covered in orange fuzz, against his abdomen. The best position he’s found was lying on his back on the chaise longue with his legs elevated, which was achieved by having them positioned on Roman’s thighs, who kept stroking Victor’s own in a soothing pattern.

It was disgustingly domestic, but exactly what he needed. Maybe Roman would be willing to go out on a limb for him every time he was struck by his body’s disastrous nature. More likely, he was going to ignore this has ever happened and never do it again for him, though.

Both were fine outcomes for Victor, really. He was content with the way it was at this moment.

#tw periods #tw gender dysphoria #trans character #trans male character #victor zsasz #victor zsasz fanfiction #roman sionis #roman sionis fanfiction #zsaszmask fanfic #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #harley quinn birds of prey #ok i'm going to bed now hfhkhfgdsk #stayed up later than i wanted for this but eh worth it <3

[papergirllife]

Chasing The Flames

Chapter 8 : The Pull of The Heartstrings

Jeno opened the door of his dorm to hear all the boys gathered around the living room, hollering like they won the lotto.

" What's with you guys? "

" We're happy for you, hyung. "

" For what, Chenle? "

" You just came back from the photoshoot with Y/N. There should be some progress. " Renjun questioned with curious eyes.

" Not telling. "

" Yah, stop being so secretive to us. "

" I'm respecting Y/N's privacy Haechan, something you would never do for us. "

But Jeno couldn't help but smile at the events that taken place today as he retreated back into his room.

As he finished showered, Renjun came in the room with a smirk on his face.

" You and Jaemin should be grateful to me. I invited Y/N to have a cook off with Chenle and I on Friday night. "

" She agreed to come? "

" Yup. You guys get to spend more time with her as long as the both of you help out for dinner, this is a win-win situation."

" Thanks man. "

" You guys better be serious about Y/N. She's a nice girl. "

" Yes, boss. "

" I'm actually surprised you're so into her. I thought Jaemin was the one that wanted to bring her into the relationship. "

" I was actually jealous of her at first, because of the attention she was receiving from Jaemin. But then after I spent some time with her that day, I realised that she's really a special one. "

" I don't know much about polyamorous relationships, but I'll still support the decisions that the both of you make. "

" Thanks, Renjun. "

Jaemin ordered a pizza for the both of them to share as Jeno got back later than their dinner time.

They were watching a movie on TV, the others being focused on the plot, but Jeno being lost in his thoughts.

" Is something wrong? " Jaemin whispered.

" No. I was just thinking about what happened today. "

Jaemin snuggled up to Jeno, while taking a huge bite into the pizza, making Jeno coo at him.

" Is there something about Y/N's that's bothering you? "

" No. I enjoyed every moment with her. "

" Then why do you look sad? "

" I'm just confused with my own feelings. How can we love each other but still potentially love another person ?"

" Maybe it's because we never dated any girls before. So we crave for one in our life. "

" But we've never shown interest in other girls. Why Y/N? Why did you like Y/N among all female friends and colleagues we know? "

" I don't know. My first impression of her was that she was a diligent assistant of Mr Kang. Then when we started talking to her, I was hooked on by her shy demeanor. Then I realised that she had a great personality, she's friendly and quirky and so easy to be around. She doesn't treat us like idols, she sees us as human beings. Whenever I'm with her, I feel a sense of freedom or escape."

Jeno nodded at what Jaemin said, connecting the way Jaemin described Y/N to recent events.

" After Y/N, we won't be adding new members into the relationship, right? "

This made Jaemin laugh and nearly choke on his piece of pizza.

" Jeno ah, let's just focus on getting one girl at a time. Plus, if Y/N accepts us, I don't think she'll accept another female in the relationship. Just because we're bisexuals, doesn't mean she is. "

" I'm just checking, because I definitely won't have time for three people. "

" Good to know that my Jeno is a loyal man."

" Chenle, how many times have I told you to get that thing out of the way? "

" What do you mean that thing? It's my sole physical entertainment other than video games. "

Jeno was being stressed about Y/ N coming over for dinner.

On the other hand, Jaemin was busy cleaning the kitchen from the mess Jisung had made from his midnight snack.

Jaemin although didn't show his nervousness as Jeno is, still feels the stress of the expectations he wishes to make for Y/N.

Although all the guys think that Y/N's quite smitten with the both of them after hours debate of what they had experienced from both their alone time with Y/N, Jaemin still wants to take things slowly and start off as good friends.

Y/N seems raw towards the feelings that they think she's feeling for them, so Jaemin and Jeno have decided to make only minor advances and let her sort out her feelings, if she does have feelings for them.

' I hope she does. ' Jaemin thoughts to himself.

Jaemin looked towards Jeno's direction and saw that Jeno's disassembling Chenle's indoor basketball court, dumping it back into its box.

After finishing up with the kitchen, Jaemin checks the fridge a second time to make sure that they had stocked up on groceries for tonight.

Jaemin was about to clear away the take out on the dining table when Renjun stopped him.

" I'll do it. Go take a shower and get dressed."

" Thanks. "

When Jaemin got out of the bath, Renjun pushed Jeno to wash up.

" Shouldn't I shower after cooking dinner? "

" You have to smell and look clean for

Y/N, you can just take another one layer in the night. "

" Any clothing advice, Injunie? "

" She thinks you look cute in pink. "

" You're the best. I can kiss you right now. "

" Save that for Jeno and Y/N, or I'll kick your butt. "

" How do you get so much information out of her? "

" Because we text often. "

" Oh. "

" Why? Are you jealous? "

" I'm just surprised. "

" She's from my home country, she says I remind her of home. "

" That's nice of you. "

" She doesn't have many friends, she reminded me of the time when I first got here. "

" I'll go check the whole place again. "

" Don't be so nervous. "

" I'll try. "

When I got there, Jaemin was waiting for me outside the dorms.

" You didn't have to wait outside for me, it's cold, you would've gotten sick if I wasn't early. "

" I know you're punctual. Plus, it'll be embarrassing if you went to the 127 and WayV's blocks. "

" God, I can't imagine. "

" Why did you bring groceries? "

" Just in case you guys don't have any. "

" Of course we do, we just bought today. I'll help you take those. "

When Jaemin grabs the bags from my hands, I could feel electric shocks up my fingertips, making my cheeks warm in the cold air.

" Thank you. "

When Jaemin opened the door, the first one to greet you was Donghyuck.

" Long time no see, Y/N. Hope you didn't miss me too much, 127 needs me. "

" There's not a day that goes by I don't hear bullshit coming from his mouth. "

" I thought you'd be used to it by now. "

" Yeah, but I thought he would've behaved more with guest around. "

" What are you saying? Y/N isn't a guest, she's like family. Right Y/N? "

" Whatever you say, Hyuck. It's good to see you. "

" Nice place you guys got here, I like the kitchen too. It's bigger than the one I have. "

" You can always move in, Y/N. "

" Yeah right, Lee Soo Man would be on my ass. "

" Chenle! You look so cute with those cat ears. "

" Don't mind them, I lost a bet to Jisung. Come check out this gun I won in pubg."

Jeno walked out of his room when he heard the commotion going on outside, beckoning Renjun to follow.

" Y/N, you're here. Then let's get this started."

We gathered at the kitchen to get ready for the mini cook off.

" Okay, who wants to be in my team? " Renjun looked at everyone expectantly, but had a shock when he realised no one wanted to be on his team.

" I'm picking Chenle and Hyuck. Y/N, you can take Jeno and Jaemin. "

" Hyung, that's not fair. Both your teammates cook often. But Jeno doesn't cook at all, Y/N noona's team is having the losing end. "

" Jisung you are the judge, so go to your room and play games while we cook, no peeking. "

Renjun was giving Jisung the stink eye while everyone of us laughed at their interaction.

" Okay, so what are we cooking? "

" I was planning on cooking sweet and sour pork cutlets and salty egg minced meat steam egg. Sounds good?"

Jeno and Jaemin nodded enthusiastically, hurrying to gather the ingredients as I listed them down.

" Wait, what's salted egg? I don't think we have that in the fridge. "

" Don't worry, Jeno. I bought them at the wet market today, it's in the bag. "

" Got it. "

I made the batter for the cutlets as they break the eggs into a bowl with the minced meat.

" Jaemin, stir this batter. I'll handle the egg. "

I broke two salted eggs and cut the pieces of the yolk into tinier pieces and put them into the bowl of egg, stirring it to space out the ingredients.

When it was ready, I began to steam the egg at the stove.

" Remember Y/N. One stove per team. "

Renjun was looking at me with a smug look on his face as he oversees the two of his friends cooking.

" I see you're making Korean food. "

" And you're making Chinese food. What a way to win Jisung's stomach, but I'm confident he'll love my cooking, he always did. "

" That's because he never ate my cooking before. "

" Oh it's on Y/N. "

The both both of us went back to our respective sides.

Cooking with Jaemin and Jeno was fun, the way Jaemin laughed at Jeno for trying to get the pork to stick to the batter.

I stepped away from my teammates to take a photo of both of them frying the cutlets.

' They suite the domestic theme that's going on here. '

Wait, what am I thinking? God, I need to focus on making the sauce or I'll lose to Renjun.

When we were done, Renjun was arguing about something with Hyuck. While Chenle was coping on cooking alone.

It was one of the funniest sights ever.

Jaemin, being the observant person he was, realised that we haven't cooked the rice.

" Need help? "

" It's just rice, I can handle myself. Go rest on the sofa with Jeno, be with you guys in a bit. "

When I got to the sofa, Jeno had took off his apron to reveal a tight fitting white t shirt.

His muscular built was evident under the thin layer of cotton, I never realised Jeno had such a good built, it was truly a sight to behold.

" I really like your new glasses. "

I had to bring up a topic to distract from Jeno, he's Jaemin's boyfriend for fuck's sake.

" Thanks. You look nice too. "

" It's just a sweater, nothing nice about it to me. "

" The mint colour, it matches well with your hair colour. "

" Thank you. "

I looked away from his gaze, scared that my cheeks were as red as I feared.

" Y/N? "

I looked back at Jeno to see that he was holding a box of chocolates.

" This is for you. As a thank you for cooking dinner. "

" Thank you, I didn't know I'll be receiving any gifts from anyone in Korea. Thank you so much. "

Even though it was just a box of chocolates, it made me happy. I don't have any other friends other than my boss, these guys mean so much to me.

" I'm glad you liked it. "

Jeno placed his hand on my knee as a friendly gesture, but my body acted as if it was the best feeling ever.

The warmth coming from his palm was addicting.

My thoughts were interrupted when Renjun announced that dinner was ready and hollered Jisung out from his room.

We ate dinner with a carefree chatter. I asked Donghyuck about him and Mark balancing the upcoming promotions and them expressing their excitement in working with me again.

" So Jisung, what do you think are the best dishes here? "

" The dishes that I've never ate before today. "

" Have kids they said, they'll be lovely they said. "

" Oh come on, hyung. Don't be too sad about losing to Y/N, Jisung always liked new things. "

" Let me introduce you to some thangs. "

Jeno shut Chenle up with a slice of beef within the second he finished the verse of 127's new song.

" Sorry, he's always been like that. " Jeno said with apologetic eyes.

" Don't worry, Hyuck told me everything about Chenle's crush on Taeyong. "

" Everyone has a crush on Taeyong hyung, ask Jisung. "

" The both of you are weird, case closed."

After dinner, we decided to watch a movie.

Hyuck and Chenle settled on some horror movie called Polaroid.

All of us were wedged on the sofa except for Chenle and Jisung who settled for sitting on the carpeted floor.

I was happily munching on my oreos when a sudden jump scare caught me off guard.

I basically jumped into Jaemin's lap when it happened.

" Sorry, I didn't mean to do that. "

" It's okay. It's called horror for a reason. "

He put his arm around my shoulders.

" There's nothing to be scared of with me around. "

Even though he meant that to be flirty, it still warmed my heart.

From then on, my attention was no longer fully on the movie in front of me. I started noticing little details of Jaemin tonight.

The way his pink sweater matches so well with his fair skin and the feeling of his broad shoulders whenever I leaned onto them.

The scent of Jaemin's cotton fragrance reminded me of waking up on my comfy bed, everything about Jaemin tonight makes my heart soft.

I barely noticed that the movie ended as Renjun announced that we were going to watch a drama that he wanted to watch for a long time.

I always got sleepy during dramas as they just aren't my genre of movies, and this time was no exception.

The only difference from this time and all the other times was the warmth and support I had beside me as I dozed off to slumber.

#nct fluff #nct smut #nct drabbles #nct 127 #nct angst #nct imagines #nct dream #nct scenarios #nct soft imagines #nct u #nct dream chenle #nct dream smut #nct dream mark #nct dream jisung #nct jeno #jeno smut #lee jeno #jeno angst #jeno x reader #na jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin fanfic #jaemin smut #jaemin #nct johnny #nct taeil #nct ten #nct taeyong #wayv

[rainbowstrashpile]

Softer, Softest

Testing a WIP here. Wanted to see if anyone was interested.

Wesker crawls out of the volcano (because of course he does), and the BSAA retrieves the remains. Chris, ever the hero, wants to help what’s left of him. Unfortunately the BSAA isn’t in the business of rehabilitating terrorists, but they can’t deny a founding member. So they compromise. How convenient then, that Wesker himself had perfected mind control technology.

Warnings for mind control and a brief description of non-consensual touching. However, that touching is not sexual in nature. Brief implication of child abuse. Admittedly a dark premise but becomes fluff.

Laid low, passive, doll like. Redfield could have him in ways he never had before. Quiet. Domesticated. Soft. Umbrella’s ubermensch, the western world’s idea of male beauty, gene selected and designed then broken on their wheel, now belonged to him. Empty, vacuous, acquiescent for the very first time. Briar Rose sleepwalking through Chris' apartment, barefoot and dreamy eyed.

It was, admittedly, not an ideal situation; but Chris wasn’t the type to take advantage of that. He knew the guilt would eat him from the inside if he allowed any injustice to happen, even to Wesker. Perhaps especially to Wesker. Greatest love of Chris’ life, much to his own chagrin.

As it stands, he likes to chat at him. Explain his favorite parts of movies while he runs his fingers through his hair. Something he'd never gotten to do before but always wanted to. He's a warm, solid weight against him as he stares blankly ahead. Chris' very own dolly. But he feels he's nice about it. Tries to be understanding of the person stuck somewhere deep inside. "I know you would have hated this. But someday, you'll be able to make your own choices again." Because Chris refuses to think of Albert as beyond redemption. Refuses to think that people who have been so traumatized are beyond repair. Albert just needs help. He just needs to be shown a gentle touch. A shred of humanity. And Chris wants to be the one to try.

                                         ____________________

It was warm here. Hazy. Almost pleasant. And that was...abnormal. Somehow he knew it wasn’t supposed to be like this. That this state of being was somehow temporary. But he couldn't bring himself to struggle against it; stick his head above the bathwater doze he both languished and lavished in. The instinct to hold still and do as you’re told still strong. Maybe he had been taught too well as a child…

Something in Wesker fizzled; acid mixed with alkali, a chemical reaction that made him twitch. Something in him remembered fear. Nervous system fighting against the weight of the lull, trying to beat back the lassitude. He felt a tension in the back of his throat, burbling up through his mouth in the form of a whine, high pitched and animal. His heartbeat increased from its sluggish rhythm, suddenly thundering against his ribs in a frenzy. 

He didn’t want to be here. This feeling, whatever it was, was hiding something terrible. A leviathan lurking in the depths, rising quickly to pull him down with a burden too terrible to bear. A knowledge that would break him. But as he was now, Wesker was powerless to stop it.

He wanted to run. To bolt in any direction; a rabbit with a wolf on its heels. But to where he couldn’t say. He was vaguely aware of the fact he didn’t know where he was. Hadn’t for a while now. And when he tried to stand, his knees gave out and he sagged to the floor; more terrible softness greeting him at the end of his fall.

“Hey now,” a voice said softly. “It’s okay. I’m here! I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Warmth again, but a different kind. Not a chemical buzz to lay him out, keep him in a fog, but a real heat. Soft skin hoisting him up against something solid, something that smelled like castile soap and laundry detergent, just a hint of sharp aftershave cutting through.

The monsters lurking just below the surface dove back down into the murk, settling once again in the depths. Far away from the safety the voice and warmth promised.

It seemed easy now, to surrender. To let the fog and softness over take him; drown out the fear buzzing and fomenting in the back of his mind. Peace descended once again, and he let out a shaky breath in relief. Nothing hurt here, trapped in the comforting static of whatever had been done to him. Sweetly restrained, or perhaps sheltered, by the solid mass holding him.

                                        ____________________

Wesker went limp in his grasp, head sagging against his shoulder. Chris ran his fingers gently through blond hair, nudging his nose against Wesker’s forehead. “It’ll all be okay. You’re safe here. I promise.” It didn’t irk him that Wesker’s arms didn’t reach out, didn’t hold onto him for comfort or even support. Acquiescence was the best that could be expected. That he had so quickly calmed was the most he could ask for, all things considered. He hoped that meant Al trusted him on some level. Knew that Chris wouldn’t hurt him. 

Chris settled Wesker back on the sofa, mindful not to crowd him after as he sat down as well. “I wish you could tell me what set you off. I really do only want to help you. And I know all this is kinda messed up. But maybe it’s the only way to show you not everyone is bad. Not everyone is trying to use each other for personal gain.” And now that he’s speaking, it all tumbles out. A mishmash jumble of feelings and stray thoughts, pouring past his lips. Dumb mouth to deaf ear.  

“I-I never tried to use you...back in STARS, you know. I wasn’t trying to sleep my way to the top or blackmail you or anything like that. And I don’t think you were using me either. Not really. I think- I think if you really hadn’t cared about me at all, back in the mansion, you would have killed me. Or at least you wouldn’t have helped me out as much. You had no reason to. Help me, that is. We never would have suspected you of anything. We trusted you. All of us trusted you. Which is why we were all so angry at you after. But somehow, you and I just couldn't stay away from each other. I never could stop loving you, no matter how much I tried..” Chris lapses into silence for a moment, wondering if Wesker is listening. If he can understand anything he’s saying to him. Chris hopes he can, somewhere in there. 

Slowly, gently, Chris reaches out to Wesker-to Al, to take his hand into his own, running his thumb over the creases of his knuckles. Wesker doesn’t react, just stares straight ahead vacantly. “It would be nice if we could be like this for real. Maybe someday. But I’d settle for you being at peace, even if that doesn’t involve me. Though I think I would still miss you. Or maybe the idea of you; the concept of what we could have been.” Chris squeezes his hand again, for good measure.

To Wesker, the voice means something. Words have ceased to have definition, but the tone carries through the message, or at the very least the core emotions behind them. He can’t reply. And even if he could he isn’t sure what he would say, or if he even remembers any words at all. But this...this is important. The lilt and drone of the voice makes him want things. Things he’d had before. How terrible, then, that he didn’t have whatever it was anymore. How stupid if him, to have lost it. The hand holding his squeezes again, and he wants to squeeze back. He’s so tired, and effort seems herculean.

But somehow, he manages; his grip a weak pulse, falling away as quickly as it had started.

But it’s enough. Chris feels it. And a delicate hope blooms in his chest.

                                                 ___________

                                                      end...?

Your girl here has ADHD real bad and wrote some stuff. This is in a document titled Plant 69;) because I couldn't think of a title so I gave up and went with a Courtney Love reference. I’ll mail you some squished up candy bars if you can find the other one hidden in here. Now that we are having a Resident Evil renaissance (a REnaissance, if you will) and I’m not the only one craving sub Wesker I figured it was a good time to participate. Nothing here that hasn’t happened to other characters in canon so I figure if you’re in the fandom you’re already okay with some problematic stuff. Which is good because unfortunately everything I write is...dark and designed to be uncomfortable. At least this one has a happy ending. 

#rainbow writes #chrisker #i do what i want

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 7

Warnings: SMUT

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007

Nik calls the moment they step through the front door; using his personal cell as opposed to the SAT, and when he announces who it is, he sees the look that immediately appears on his wife’s face. The annoyance that Nik has the nerve to call so after a mission when she’d already agreed to give him a minimum of two weeks off, and the worry that he may actually consider accepting an offer.  

“It’s probably nothing,” he assures her, placing a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into a kiss.

He can taste the alcohol that lingers on her lips, feel the press of her body against his when she stands on her tip toes and leans into him. She’s normally not a drinker; not a single sip of booze had touched her lips since she’d gotten pregnant with the twins five years ago. She used to be able to keep up with him, now she’d reverted back to a light weight. The four glasses of wine she’d consumed causing her face to flush and both her body and brain to completely relax. And he’s tempted to say ‘fuck it’ and not even answer the call. Just rush through getting the kids to bed and take her into their bedroom and worshipping every inch of her.

“It’s never nothing with Nik,” she grumbles, and pulls his bottom lip between her teeth before departing, hustling the kids out of the front foyer and up the stairs.

“I’ve got some information,” Nik says, before he even has a chance to offer a greeting, and he steps out onto the back deck, sliding the glass door shut behind him.  

There’s a chill in the air; a steady wind coming from over the mountains and bringing significantly colder temperatures with it. And he pulls the hood of his sweater over his head and leans against the deck, elbows on the top railing.

“About this girl that Ovi’s seeing, yeah?”

“She checks out clean. Not even an outstanding parking ticket. Her employment is solid; runs her own day care and has had extensive police background checks done on her and passed every one. Her father is ex Air Force. A chief warrant officer that flew Blackhawks during Desert Storm. Extensive military service on his side. Including an uncle that was a POW in Vietnam and a cousin with who was awarded a Purple Heart in Iraq. Your kind of people, Tyler.”

“Let’s not go that far, Nik. Not many people are my kind of people.”  There’s a big difference between career military men and ex army turned mercenary.

“Things get a little shady on the mother’s side. She’s a nurse at Denver Memorial Hospital. ICU. Has been there for twenty-five years and doesn’t have a single blemish in her employee file. But there are some issues with siblings. Minor drug possession arrests, drunk driving charges, a couple of drunk and disorderlies, assault with a weapon, forcible confinement. Those last two came from a domestic abuse case in 2009. One of the uncles beat up his wife and held her at knifepoint when he came home and found her cheating on him.  He’s in Atlanta now and hasn’t had a run in with the authorities since.”

“So nothing much to worry about,” he concludes.

“Nothing that I think you should worry about. But I get it. Why you wanted me to do this. I wouldn’t want to be bringing strangers into my house and around my children either. Especially considering your history of making enemies.  But I don’t think this is anything to get worked up about. I don’t see any possible threats. I’d be telling you to keep her far away if I sensed even the smallest thing.”

“I appreciate that Nik.”

She gets it. The lingering uneasiness that comes with the job. With the knowledge you’ve pissed off a lot of people who have every reason to want pay back. And while he knows the chance is always out there that someone could show up, he hasn’t really worried about it since their last stint in Dhaka. The move to Colorado bringing about a sense of peace that had been missing in his life for years. Ever since he’d made the epic mistake of leaving for Afghanistan when his son was dying.

“How are you?” she asks. “How’s the ribs?”

“Sore. But I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

“A lot of things went wrong.”

“Seems to be a recurring theme, Nik. If things didn’t fuck up, I’d be worried.”

“There were too many mistakes. Too many mix ups. A lot is going to change. Things will run smoother next time.”

Next time.  Two years…or maybe even twelve months ago…those words would have been welcome to hear; it meant unbelievably good money coming in and a chance of feeding that constant crave for danger. That urge to live on the edge for a few days and then return to his normal life.  Now those words just fall flat. He feels nothing. Not even the thought of that kind of cash sparks even the smallest bit of excitement.

“No more mistakes,” she vows.

He chuckles. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Nik.”

She gives a soft laugh. “Are you okay, Tyler? You sound tired.”

“I am.”

‘Trouble sleeping?”

“What else is new? Knees been bugging the shit out of me. The shoulder’s fucked again. I have a lot on my mind. Personal things.”

“But things are okay?” she presses for more information. “You and Esme…”

“There’s no problems there. Things are great. Kids are great,” he sighs heavily and turns around to face the house; watching his wife through the thin curtains in the baby’s room as she stands at the side of his crib. He thinks of stranger from that day. First in the ice cream shop and then in the restaurant.  And how he’d noticed the way the man had watched her intently when she had taken Millie to get cleaned up.   “You have someone watching me, Nik?” he asks.  

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have a detail on me? Or my family? Is there something I need to worry about?”

“I would have told you if there was. What’s wrong?”

He tells her about the newcomer to town; a brief physical description followed by how he’d been watching Ovi and Millie together before Tyler had showed up with the boys. There’d been a short interaction: nothing more than a stranger talking about being on a business trip and missing his own family. He wouldn’t have thought any more about it had he’d not seen that same man at the restaurant hours later, and if he’d not noticed the way the stranger’s eyes had followed his wife and daughter on their walk to the bathroom.

Nik listens intently; never interrupting or asking questions. But he can hear the light tapping of laptop keys as she takes down everything he’s saying. She’s meticulous when it comes to gathering info. And he knew she’d go back later and analyze everything he’d said. Looking for clues. If there were any to be found.

“You said he had tattoos,” she speaks only after a period of silence between them. “Can you describe any of them to me?”

“Not really. I didn’t really focus on them. He had sleeves. Shoulder to wrist. Both arms. I’m not sure what they’re of. He said he was from Chicago but he didn’t have an accent. I don’t know if that matters or not. Don’t they usually have accents?”

“What about the baseball hat? Was there anything written on it?”

Sighing heavily, he briefly closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face, laying it across the bridge of his nose.  Thumb and forefinger pressing into his temples. “It was camo. The standard green. Had a mesh back on it. Not one of the fits to the head type. The kind with the snaps. Orange lettering across the front. The initials CRPC.”

More typing. Faster this time.

“What about a vehicle? When he left did you notice if he was driving? Walking?”

“I had my back to the door. I can ask the kid later when he gets home. I wasn’t paying attention to much after we talked. I had my kids with me.”

“Find me the exact address of where you were. I’ll see if they have security cameras. Are they any crosswalks or streetlights in the area?”

“Not for a couple of blocks. It’s pretty much just a long stretch of road. No marked crossings, lights, anything like that. “

“I’ll contact the store. And the other ones around it. Did he say where he was staying?”

“No. But there’s a couple of hotels and a handful of bed and breakfasts.  You don’t need to put that many resources into this. Nik. I’m probably just reading too much into it.”

“When do you ever read too much into things? That isn’t something you do, Tyler.”

“Maybe becoming a dad has made me soft,” he scoffs. “Or paranoid. Or both.”

“It’s made your instincts even sharper. I noticed that about you on this last job. Your instincts were always top notch, but they’ve gotten even better. If you feel something is off, it probably is. I’m coming to town in a couple of days.  We need to talk. In person.”

“About?”

“I have a business proposition for you.”

“I’m not taking another job right now, Nik. I already told you that. I need some time off with my family. Especially with my wife. She’s been the one holding everything together. Least I could do is stick around awhile. She needs me Nik. A lot more than you do.”

“I’m not trying to take you away from your family, Tyler. That’s the last thing I want. And this isn’t about a job. It’s about the job, but not about a job. I’ll look into this man and get back to you. I’ll see you in three days.”

“Nik, I don’t think...”

“Three days, Tyler,” she stresses, and disconnects the call.

***

He checks on the kids. Fixing blankets, fetching favourite stuffed animals and glasses of water, reading stories that he damn well knows have already been read but he finds it too hard to resist those little voices and pleading eyes.

“You’re the best tucker inner, daddy,” TJ had declared, blankets so tight around him that he couldn’t even move his legs or his arms.  “I wish you could do this every night.”

There was no guilt trip quite like a guilt trip being laid on you by a four-year-old.

In the end, the three oldest had all ended up curled up together in the bottom bunk in the twins’ room, listening to one last story before finally giving in to sleep. And he’d spent some time kneeling alongside of them watching them sleep, listening to their soft breathing, stroking their hair, pressing kisses to their forehead. So many things that he wanted to say but didn’t have the courage to say them. About how feared that he would fail them. That one day maybe he wouldn’t come home despite fighting like hell to get there.  Or if they found out the truth about his past when they were older, and they were disgusted and ashamed of him and wanted nothing to do with him.

That thought hurt the most. At least if he was dead, he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt that he’d royally fucked them up.

Next, he went to the baby’s room and held him until he fell asleep. That little body tucked into his chest, breath warm and sweet on the side of his neck, a tiny hand fisting a piece of his shirt. Swaying back and forth in the rocker by the window, eyes closed as he breathed in that fresh, powdery scent that clung to the baby’s sleeper.

He’d been taking those moments for granted; cuddling with his kids, playing with them, kissing them goodnight and hearing them tell him they love him. Letting the job take up way too much of his time both mentally and physically. When he’d been declared healthy enough to get back into the game, he’d thrown himself into it with far more intensity than he had planned to.  Feeling as if he had something to prove to not only the people who’d tried to destroy him, but himself as well. It became an obsession.  Addicted to chasing that next high; the one that came with destroying evil instead of drowning his self loathing with booze and painkillers.

He finds his wife in the tub; immersed in hot water and bubbles all the way to her chin, eyes closed, and head tilted back, a half empty bottle of beer in her hand.

“I take you out one night and you’re already turning into a drunk?” Tyler teases, as he closes the door and locks it behind him.  Just in case. You never know when curious little bodies might come bursting in.  

“I only had…two…or three…” her eyes narrow as she attempts to count on her fingers. “…or something like that.”

“Four,” he helps her out, and then crouches down alongside the bathtub, grimace when his knee cracks and a pain shoots right up to his hip.  “And one beer. You’re usually not like this. What’s gotten into you?”

“It’s what I want to get into me,” she retorts, and then giggles.

“You can have that without getting drunk.  Although this is kind of cute. Seeing you like this. It’s been a long time.”

Their second night during their first stint in Dhaka she’d gotten so drunk that he’d had to carry her up the three flights of stairs to their room. And tend to her while she threw up all night long. He figured it that didn’t scared him away, nothing would.  “Just don’t throw up on me. You know how I feel about puke.” Blood he could. Brain matter. Entrails. None of that got him. But if he so as much heard someone in the act of throwing up…

“What did Nik want?” she inquires. “Phone sex?”

“Let’s not start that okay?” his voice is gentle, hand dipping into the water to scoop up an abandoned washcloth. Sure, booze made her uninhibited, but it also made her extremely combative. Well, more so than usual. “That’s a long time ago.”

“You still fucked her though. More than once.”

“That’s a long time ago,” he repeats, refusing to let it get under his skin. “Way before you. It doesn’t matter. Just like all the guys before me don’t matter.”

“I don’t see the guys that came before you. You still see Nik. Are you still attracted to her?”

“We’re not going to fight,” he runs the soapy face cloth along her leg; the fabric and his fingertips slowly drifting from the top of her foot to the inside of her thigh, then sliding around the back. Smirking when he hits that sensitive spot behind her knee and her entire leg jerks. “So if you want to fight, just stop.”

“Are you?” she challenges. “Do you still think she’s attractive? Do you still want to fuck her some times?”

“No,” he’s being truthful; all connection he and Nik had had in that way had ended a long time ago. He no longer wanted her. In the same way he didn’t want any other woman. “Why would I want to? I have you. I only want you.”

“I bet she still wants to fuck you. I see the way she looks at you, you know. The way she bats her eyes at you and wears those low-cut blouses and her tight pants and…”

“I think you’ve had enough,” he plucks the bottle of beer from her hands, finishing it one gulp and then reaching over to place the empty on the counter. “And you know what…” he begins the soapy exploration of her other legs. Eyes never leaving hers, watching the way her breath hitches when he nears the knee, her body anticipating the sensation.  “…it doesn’t matter what she wants. Because I don’t want her. I want you. I married you. Not her. There’s no other woman I want in my bed.”

His hand travels higher; the cloth now discarded and his palm sliding along the inside of her thigh, their gazes never wavering.  And when his fingertips brush against her mound, she draws in a shaky breath; eyes darkening with lust, nipples hardening.  

“Only you,” he says, and when his fingers push past those swollen, slick lips and make contact with her clit, her eyes closed and her head tilts back. “You are so beautiful,” his voice is low as he praises her; full of lust and need and the strain it takes to hold back. His cock painfully hard in his jeans.  She’s stunning; all the lines and curves of her body, the smoothness of her throat, the way the water glistens on her milky skin. And he longs to get his hands on her…his mouth on her.

She gives a small cry when he pushes a finger inside of her, the fingers on one hand biting into the ledge of the tub, as the other disappears under the water to latch onto his wrist, keeping his hand firmly in place.

He adds a second finger, swallowing noisily as she grinds against his palm. Unable to keep his eyes off of her as she begins to grind against palm. Pressing her body down against it, forcing his fingers as deep as they can possibly go.  Letting her do all the work in an attempt to get herself off. It is always hot when he can sit back and watch her pleasure herself, but this was on another level all in itself. Allowing her to use him…or at least part of him…to give her what she needed.  And he fights the urge to unzip his pants, reach into his boxers and jerk himself off.

“You gonna come?” his voice is raspy now, overwhelmed by the sight of her, of how much ne needs her. Wants her. “Tell me when you’re going to come.”

He adjusts the angle of his hand, so his palm is flush against her pussy, enabling his thumb to come in direct contact with her clit.  She bites down hard on her bottom lip, body jerking and sending water splashing over the edge of the tub, onto him and the floor below.  And when he increases the pressure of his thumb against the painfully hard nub, she reaches for him, grabbing a hold of his shirt and yanking her towards him.

“Kiss me,” she demands, and then shoves her hand into his hair and aggressively pulls him down into her. Her orgasm hitting her hard and fast, his tongue and his mouth muffling the sound of her scream.

His fingers continuing to move inside of her as those inner muscles contract and twitch around them and her entire body shuddering violently. Resting his forehead against hers as he waits for her to come down from her thigh. Listening to her breathing settle and waiting for her body to full relax before removing his hand from between her legs.

“You’re welcome,” he grins, drying his hand off on the thigh of his jeans. “You okay?”

“Mmm…hmmm…” she manages, her eyes fluttering open, regarding him with a content smile.

He stands, grimacing at the discomfort in his knee and lower back, fetching her a towel from the back of the door and then offering her a hand.  Slender fingers curling around his own as she stands on shaky legs, her hands on his shoulders as he uses the towel to try her off.

“You’re too good to me,” she says.

“So we’re not going to fight? I was pretty sure you were trying to pick a fight.”

“No. No fights. But you can fuck me like we were fighting if you want.”

Smirking, he leans down to kiss her, a hand tangled in her damp hair.

“You can even do that thing with your tongue that I like,” she suggests. “I mean, only if you want to.”

When didn’t he want to?

 ***

 He does that ‘thing’  with his tongue she likes. Twice. Each orgasm powerful.  Her entire body arching off the bed, hands in his hair holding his face tight against her, his palm stifling the sounds that erupt from her.  Then he flips her onto her stomach, slides an arm around her waist and forces her up onto her knees. Taking her like that; one strong, powerful thrust filling her, one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder.  Fucking her as if he hated her.  His movements hard and fast. Unrelenting. Punishing. Grabbing a hold of her hair and pushing her face down into the mattress. And even though it’s what she wants…what she had asked for…he’ll hate himself in the morning for it. When he sees the bruises that his hands have made on her hips and the pained way in which she walks.  It’s always surprised him: how a little thing can take so much. How she can enjoy it as much as she can. When he’s aggressive and mean and uses her solely for his pleasure.

Trust. It’s the trust she has in him. Knowing that he’d never intentionally hurt her. That it’s all just a game and never done with cruel intent. The humiliation and the pain stopping at sex. Never crossing that line in any other aspect of their life together.

He comes before she does. The agony of having to hold back in the bathroom finally releasing. Pressing into her and holding her there, a strangled groan emerging from deep inside his throat as hot, thick semen bathes her womb. Eyes closing and his head falling forward. Legs shaking, chest heaving, feeling as if he’ll never stop filling her.  

And when he finally recovers, he reaches between her and the bed to find her clit, rubbing at it while trailing the tip of his tongue the entire length of her spine. Over the curves of her ass. Biting at soft flesh of her hips. Fingers working her until the fourth orgasm of the takes hold; not as powerful as the first three, but enough to have her crying out in the mattress.

Afterwards, while resting on his good shoulder, he wraps an arm around her and pulls her towards him, her ass nestled into his front. Their hands joining and resting against her stomach, thumb repeatedly brushing against the top and side of her wrist. And he presses a kiss to the back of her head and buries his face in her hair; relaxing in the warmth of her body and that familiar yet still intoxicating smell.

“So what did Nik want?” she asks, and he can’t help but laugh.

“And you accuse me of having shitty pillow talk.”

“I’m not the one that always announces they’re hungry afterwards.”

“Now that you mention it, I am kinda hungry.”

She directs an elbow back into his gut and he chuckles into her hair.

“I can only imagine what she wanted,” she huffs.

“Can we not talk about this right now? Can we not just lie here and not talk about this? The last thing I want to talk about right after we fuck is the job.”

“You didn’t do it, did you?”

“Do what?”

“Take a job.”

He sighs.

“You promised you wouldn’t take something else for at least two weeks. You said…”

He tightens his hold on her. “I didn’t take a job. That isn’t why she called. Well it kind of is, but it’s not all at the same time.”

“You make no sense in your post orgasmic haze.”

“She was just telling me about the girl that Ovi is hooking up. That all the background stuff checked out. Except for some uncle with a penchant for beating up women. There’s nothing we need to worry about. She’s clean. He can do whatever the fuck he wants now.”

“I wonder if he’s doing her.”

“That’s another thing I do not want to talk about or think about right after we have sex. Like you said, he’s grown. He can do whatever and whoever he wants. As long as he’s not doing it under my roof, I don’t give a shit. He can go and get his rocks off at a cheap motel or in the backseat of a car for all I care. Just not where my kids live. Only rule. None of that shit here.”

“You really are going to be the father that doesn’t let his daughter date until she’s thirty.”

“If I had my way, she’d become a nun and never look at a guy.”

“Are you going to think the same when your sons are out getting laid by whoever and wherever?”

“If they knock someone up, I’m kicking their asses. And who cares right now. We have tons of times before we have to worry about shit like that. Go to sleep. You’re drunk. And rambling.”

She heaves a heavy sigh, wiggles her ass back against his crotch, rubs her cheek against her pillow.  “Is that all Nik wanted?” she asks after several minutes, and Tyler groans.

“Esme…please…just go to sleep…it’s late…I’m tired…I’m fucking aching. Just go to sleep.”

“You aren’t lying are you? About taking a job?”

“Woman, you’re killing me here. How are you still awake? I just fucked the shit out of you and normally you’d be passed out cold. No. I didn’t take a job. She didn’t offer one. She just said she’d been in town in three days and wanted to talk to me. In person.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

She releases his hand and flops over onto her side to face him.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he groans.  “Esme…please…just go to sleep. We can talk about this shit tomorrow. It isn’t important. I don’t know what she wants. She just said she wants to talk. That’s it. Now please…” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “…before I smother you in your sleep. You’re  a chatty drunk and I love you, but it drives me fucking mental. Just close your eyes. Sleep. Please.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and tucks her head under his chin. “Tyler?”

“What?” he snaps. “What now?”

“I love you. Even if you are an insufferable pain in my ass sometimes.”

He smiles as he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you too. Even when you are a raging bitch.”

“Me? Never.”

He snorts.

“You married me. You must be a glutton for punishment.”

“You give amazing head and fuck like a porn star. Why wouldn’t I lock that shit down?”

“So romantic,” she laughs. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you don’t have a soft side, baby. You are all fluff.”

“Close your eyes,” he implores. “Go to sleep. It’s late. The kids wake up early.”

She sighs once more, nuzzling her face into his throat. And he holds her, a hand stroking her hair, until her breathing slows and evens out and her body relaxes completely. Finding sleep quickly in the confines and the comfort of his arms.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Side Effects ch.3 (baon)

Summary: All Stretch wanted to do was drop off some pants to get altered for Edge’s cast. He’s obviously asking for too much out of life.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Past Injury, Coffee Shop

CH1 | CH2

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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Barista, Tailor...

Stretch shifted in his bus seat, garment bag over his knees and his eye lights carefully focused on his phone screen.

He’d only taken the bus once since the whole incident in California, but the one that ran the Embassy route usually didn’t have as many Humans as this one to downtown Ebott.

Today he could feel the looks from other people, Humans, crawling up his spine and it was a little hard to ignore. No one approached him at least, ready to spit some extra-strength vitriol into his lap, so they were probably just curious. That did happen sometimes, either because he was a little bit Twitter famous or because he was just a Monster in general. People frequently took discreet pictures of him or videos, and he tried not to take it personally. Heck, Keanu Reeves got the same treatment when he took the subway.

Stretch sometimes found those pictures on instagram or twitter. Depending on the caption, he’d even comment, hey, being amicable about the amateur paparazzi was probably good public relations.

But it was one of the reasons he usually wore headphones on the bus, even if, like today, he didn’t have them turned on. Friendly was good and well, but sometimes there weren’t enough spoons in the drawer, and headphones acted as a decent barrier of sorts to that shit.

Not that a lack of spoons was a problem today. He still felt weirdly energized after pouring his all into healing Red. What he honestly felt was hungry, hell, starving, his magic pleading for a quick snack or maybe a ten-course meal. Coffee he’d remembered to bring along, but with Edge out of commision, the level of baked goods in their house was hitting critically low levels.

Hm. The stop for the Beanery was coming up and it wouldn’t take up too much time for a side quest into pastry retrieval. Getting Edge's trousers to the tailor could wait a couple mo'.

When the bus rolled to a halt, Stretch hopped eagerly down the steps to the sidewalk. He could already taste those sweet, sweet lemon bars, might even pick up a cinnamon roll for Edge while he was in. He took a moment to dump out the dregs of his morning coffee, might as well get a refill while he was here, and headed in.

The bell jangling cheerily overhead was the same as always, but there was nothing normal about the way the entire shop froze in their tracks when they saw him. Baristas and patrons alike stopped and stared, and Stretch froze right along with them, resisting the urge to glance behind him, cause he was pretty sure he was what they were looking at and not some other skeleton Monster that crept in on his heels.

“um, hi?” he tried, lifting a hand in an awkward wave.

That seemed to get the record playing again. Before he could even lower his hand, Debbie was around the counter, Jennie and Daniel at her heels, paying no mind to the line of people waiting at the counter. Then again, none of them looked put out by the barista parade, they only stood and watched as Debbie dashed up to him and flung both her arms around his ribcage, almost making him drop the garment bag. Jennie joined her, and Daniel, and Stretch only stood there bewildered, caged in Human arms and patting whatever heads and shoulders he could reach.

“um, hey, guys? sorry i haven’t been in, things have been a little weird.”

“We know, dear,” Debbie said finally ,and to Stretch’s horror, when she pulled away, she drew up her apron to wipe at her eyes. “We’ve been watching everything on the news. Oh, sweetie, how is Edge doing?”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Well, fuck, he knew a few internet sleuths had figured out that Edge was one of the Monsters hurt even if he was such a stickler for privacy that his name wasn’t in any of the reports. Stretch hadn’t even considered that the people who knew Edge would be worried out of their skulls, fuck, he’d been home for almost a week, had no one bothered to let the Beanery in on it? What about Thomas at the book shop, he knew Edge, too...but no, he’d probably texted Andy.

Stretch abruptly realized the entire shop was waiting for an answer. Humans that he didn’t know by name, but whose faces he recognized, shop regulars who probably followed him on Twitter, nodding a greeting every time Stretch stopped in. Asgore hadn’t wanted him to post on Twitter about what happened because he was afraid it would open a can of worms and get people asking him questions that he probably shouldn’t answer.

(Which honestly, it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t his fault his fingers worked faster than his brain.)

But obviously radio silence on Twitter wasn’t the answer either, not from all the worried faces around him. He needed to have a chat with Asgore on that front, but first it was time for some damage control.

“He’s fine,” Stretch said, loud enough for everyone in the shop to hear, “seriously, he’s doing okay. he’s a little bang up, he’d got a temporary cast on one leg, but he’ll be up again with a coffee craving in no time.”

To his dismay, instead of being reassured, Debbie burst into full-fledged tears and hugged him again. He leaned down to wrap both arms around her, squeezing tight, until her sobs trailed away.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Debbie pulled away and grabbed a napkin from one of the tables, wiping at her eyes. “It’s only...i was so worried.”

“We were all worried,” Jennie put in. Debbie’s niece was like a younger, taller version of her, complete with her own tears. Behind her, Daniel was nodding along. “When we saw that awful video. But when we called the Embassy, they couldn’t tell us anything.”

Ah, shit, of course they wouldn't, especially not about Edge since he wasn’t supposed to be a public figure. And they probably hit Andy with a gag order, too, so he wouldn’t even be able to say much.

Welp. Stretch didn’t work for the Embassy, thanks, and Asgore only mentioned Twitter. If they didn’t want him talking to people’s faces, they should’ve sewn up any loopholes before they let him out on the street.

“he’s fine, i promise,” Stretch said firmly, then he reconsidered. “deb, do you have a cell phone?”

Debbie blinked, but pulled an iphone out of her pocket. It was older and the screen was cracked, and Stretch made a mental note to deal with that somehow, but that would be later. For now, he opened up her contact list and added his number, labeling it ‘Skeletor’s Second Cousin.’

As he typed, he said, “next time, call me, okay? not that i want a next time but, you get me. call, text, whatever. i’ll tell you what i can.”

Debbie nodded, still a little teary, and backed away enough to let Julia and Daniel get in another quick hug before they headed back behind the counter.

“Come on, let me get you a drink,” Debbie said briskly. She took hold of Stretch’s elbow, leading him up to the counter like a lost lamb, “You look like you’re on your way somewhere.” Stretch followed meekly along after her like a good little sheep. Not like letting her get in a little mom-ing was gonna hurt.

He allowed Debbie to steal his travel mug, watching as she worked her magic to fill it. “yeah, edge needs some of his pants altered if he’s gonna be able to wear them with a cast, so i’m headed down to the tailor.”

Debbie actually paused, lips pursed, “I see. Let me throw in an extra shot of espresso, I have a feeling you may need it.”

~~*~~

Not much time later, Stretch had a chance to really appreciate Debbie’s foresight.

He knew the Monster tailor, Bruno, as a casual sort of acquaintance but not so much professionally, not since he’d been fitted for his wedding tux. Stretch’s style tended towards either off the rack or out of Edge’s side of the closet, and that was about as far as he liked to think about clothes.

His husband, on the other hand, probably had his t-shirts professionally tailored. Not that Stretch was about to complain, heck no, not when he got to reap the benefits of that view.

But it did kinda leave him in the position to be standing awkwardly, listening to Bruno moan about the travesty he was about to commit on some perfectly good trousers.

“It won’t work!” Bruno declared, for about the fifth time if someone was counting, and Stretch really, really was. “There is barely enough material in his trousers for his legs, he expects me to maybe coax the silk worms into adding more for a cast?”

Stretch shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, munching on his last lemon bar as he watched the tailor pace. Everything on the overflowing tables rattled with every stomping step he took, the pictures on the walls hanging ever more crooked. Stretch couldn’t say he minded, it was kinda like getting a free show.

The sigh Bruno heaved was loud enough to shift all the pictures another inch, “The only way it might work is if I cut the seam all the way up the side and find a way for him to fasten them. The trousers won’t go over the cast, but he will at least be covered.”

“think velcro’s been proven to work,” Stretch offered idly. Even he shrank away from the look of pure distaste Bruno gave him, the void flickering in his vision as he almost shortcutted out to the sidewalk and to heck with the pants. Bruno was one of the rare Monsters who towered over him, with a pair of gleaming ivory fangs peeking out from his lips, the curling horns towering over his head well-polished. From the look of his shop, business was flourishing, which just proved that Human problems with Monsters wasn’t the way they looked.

“Is he planning on tearing them away in the middle of a meeting with heads of state?” Bruno sniffed. “Perhaps do a little dance for them?”

“uh...i hope not?” Stretch offered meekly. “i mean, probably should order a g-string too if that’s on the table.”

Bruno went on as if Stretch hadn’t said a word. “No, he is not. Hook and eye would work, buttons would be more secure, but.” He shook his head with grave misery, “No. he won't like it. No matter what I do, he won’t like any of it. No.” Bruno heaved a sigh worthy of any swooning Victorian heroine, sagging into a huge, squashy chair that creaked ominously. “I’ll do it, but I’m afraid he’s not going to like any adjustment I come up with. I certainly hope he doesn’t tell anyone he’s wearing one of my creations!”

“i’ll let him know to keep the business cards to himself for now.” Stretch leaned against the counter, plucking up a business card of his own to weave through his fingers. Oh, he was gonna regret asking, he knew it, but he was reluctantly curious. That might kill a cat, but hopefully skeletons got off for free. “okay, so, if what edge is asking for won’t work, what would you recommend?”

Bruno brightened instantly, illuminating like a newborn sun and clapped his huge hands with such exuberance that Stretch took a step back. “Ah, well! When it comes to something like a cast, there are a few options, oh, let me think!” He stroked a finger down one long fang, considering, “you both have such slender legs, but very shapely. Ah!” Stretch waited with morbid curiosity, almost expecting to see a bubble with the word ‘eureka’ come spilling out of the tailor’s ear. “I have it! I think he would be dashing in a business kilt!”

A what? “a kilt,” Stretch said, flatly. “that’s what you’re saying. that’s the big idea. not exactly original, is it.”

“Yes, yes, a kilt,” Bruno flapped an impatient hand at him, “and original isn't the question or suitcoats would have died out a hundred years ago! A sedate pattern, of course, nothing too flashy, not for Embassy work.” Yeah, as if that was Stretch’s big concern, that Edge might get stuck with something more appropriate for disco inferno than a business meeting. Then again, bell bottoms might work... “With a kilt cut jacket and tie, oh, yes, something in a dark wool, I think.” Bruno stood and marched over, Stretch bouncing along with every step, until he could lean in to whispered conspiratorially, “He’d look scrumptious and I don’t think I need to tell you that should be his natural state of being.”

“scrumptious.” Stretch repeated slowly, tasting the word. Yeah, okay, he kind of liked that one in the same sentence as Edge, he could warm up to this idea. “how long would it take to make something like that?”

Bruno’s expression turned into one from the sly family, his little smile widening to a toothy grin. “It’s entirely possible I have something in the works right now that might be suitable. If you’ll excuse the pun.”

Uh huh. He sure knew his clientele, didn’t he. “sold. let me know when i can pick it up.”

“I’ll have it done by the end of the week, along with the...trousers.” His distaste from the last word faded into a certain disturbing gleam that began to shine in Bruno’s eye and before Stretch could flee, he took hold of Stretch’s elbow, gripping firmly, “Now. Why don’t we see what I can do for you?”

“what? wait, no, i’m just here for edge!” Stretch tried, digging in his heels as Bruno began to pull. His sneakers squeaked on the tile as he slid along in the direction of the dressing rooms. “no, don’t! help! i don’t need new clothes!”

“Nonsense!” Bruno scoffed, “Everyone can use an addition to their wardrobe. Particularly when you come to me dressed like that,” He paused, his face twisting into a moue of pure disgust as he tutted over a perfectly decent sweatshirt and pair of track pants. “I couldn’t possibly let anyone see you leaving my shop this way. No, no,” He shook his head, tugging Stretch determinedly along. “My reputation won’t have it. Come now, let’s see what I have for you.”

Stretch gulped and cast a longing look at the door as he was hauled inexorably towards the dressing rooms.

Where was a damn explosion when you needed one?

-tbc-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

[hisokas-long-toenails]

Hc on what makes the adult trio mad?

THIS IS MY FIRST ONE THANK YOU. MY ~thoughts~ MIGHT NOT BE WHAT YOU EXPECT. NOT SORRY THOUGH. THANK YOU SO MUCH. PLEASE VALIDATE ME ANYWAY. Hisoka: So we know that not much really seems to make him angry except for wasted potential and maybe losing the chance to fight someone really powerful (especially if he lost it to someone he thinks is weak). Even when he didn’t get to fight Chrollo he seemed more irritated than angry. Disappointment in his pursuit of a good fight bores and disappoints him. I’m sure if he had a girlfriend or something he’d take immense pleasure in her screwing up so he had more excuse to fuck with her.  But you know what? He wouldn’t like a taste of his own medicine. I don’t mean his desire to play games with people. I mean little domestic shit that you know is true about Hisoka when he’s not full feral in the woods staring directly at a tree for 3 hours craving murder. Would Hisoka definitely leave a spoonful of cereal in the bag, roll it up, put it back in the box and put it on the shelf? Yes. Would he go ape shit if he went to have a bowl of cereal and you did that to him? Yeah, good luck with dying. Does Hisoka leave his dirty laundry anywhere he strips down? You know damn well he does. But god be with you if he’s digging in the couch cushion looking for the remote and finds one of your socks. It’s probably half the fact that those things are just irritating, and half the fact that any domestic normal conflict is so boring that it causes him physical pain to have to deal with it. Chrollo: He’s a chill guy, am I right? Like, don’t kill a spider and you’re good. He straight up met Hisoka and didn’t just murder him on the spot.  I love Hisoka, he’s my clown husband, but everything about him is annoying as shit. I know they don’t fight other troupe members but he met Hisoka, let him act like that, and then literally was just like, “yeah, okay.” This one is kind of hard for me, but you know what? I feel like Chrollo would actually be really into popular music. He’d hear some Billie Eilish in passing or see a K Pop music video and be super into it, right? But if you’re listening to music he doesn’t like in public without headphones I think he’d be pissed. He’d be waiting for someone at a restaurant, minding his own business, when Toby 3 tables away wants to show his friend the latest bro-country song. Toby’s new iPhone is getting smashed. Toby’s face is getting smashed. Toby will regret not spending the $100 on airpods. Don’t assault Chrollo’s ears with bad music. Illumi: So he clearly gets mad when something threatens his family in some way but otherwise is kind of an emotionless shell. He’d have murdered Killua for taking Alluka if he was allowed to. Hisoka almost got yeeted into the afterlife for even joking about hurting him. Hear me out though. I think he’d hate being gently touched. He doesn’t realize it, but he’s really ticklish, and he despises how it feels (who doesn’t). There’s no saving you if you were dating him and your foot grazed his while you were sleeping next to him. He’d wake up pissed. You’d suggest he wears socks or something to bed, but he’d absolutely be convinced you’re trying to do some shit to him while he’s sleeping. He’s an assassin. He doesn’t brush against strangers in public much. He just could not understand why it tingles and makes him react like that. Could Illumi withstand days of intense painful torture? Of course. Could he handle being tickled for more than 5 seconds without losing his mind and destroying everything in a 100 mile radius? Nah. Tickle torture was not a part of his assassin training.

#hxh headcanon #hxh #hunter x hunter #headcanon #hisoka morow #hisoka #illumi zoldyck #illumi #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer