#which should help bc clean mouth. but also that means i have to have a toothbrush in my mouth for two minutes

[mars-ipan]

physical symptoms of mental illness r so annoying. the fuck do you mean you’re nauseous you woke up literally an hour ago

#marzi speaks #been waiting for my appetite to pick up so i can eat. thinking i may just have to brush my teeth n wait for the mint flavor to go away #which should help bc clean mouth. but also that means i have to have a toothbrush in my mouth for two minutes #which. ugh #but whatever !!! i’ll do it i guess #hey kids don’t stay up too late. your body will panic and placebo itself into feeling sick apparently

[00-hawkboi-00]

Make a Mercy Out of Me

Part Three

Pairing; König x m!reader

Word Count; ~7.66k

Warnings; kinda sorta graphic depiction of stitching up wounds near the end. So if you don't like needles.. be careful.

A/n; König is a sergeant bc I said so and it fits my narrative. There's also plans in work for why he's a part of 141 & background knowledge on him. Lore. Eventually.

(we need more clips of this man istg-)

You were a frustrating man to work with. You had hardly said much of anything during that sad excuse of an interrogation, at least nothing of much use. All they knew now was that there was someone out there who held your leash. Or, well, used to. You were a wildcard now, without someone to keep you on lock and key, and there was no way in the deepest pits of hell they could set you loose on the world with what they knew–which wasn't much. Not unless you were hanging off their every word or buried six feet under an unmarked grave.

--- "babysitting duty" ---

"You talk about him like he's some sort of lab experiment."

"Mm." Well… "maybe he is. Who knows."

"He isn't some feral dog, König."

He didn't like it. As much as your words had ignited a–often ignored–spark in him, there was something itching at the back of his mind telling him you weren't trustworthy. That you'd stab him and the rest of the task force in the back the moment you were left to your own devices.

"We should keep him."

"He's a person."

"Not a good one."

"Neither are we."

They had to keep you, if at least for society's sake, on that straining lead. As any slack would surely be the catalyst of his very own demise.

I could make the world bleed.

The words were stuck on replay in König's mind, as well as the man who had spoken them. It was a horrible thought to have–but he couldn't help but find it.. intriguing. The idea made his heart skip a beat and the corner of his scarred mouth curl.

"He said he'd make the world bleed, König. That's fuckin' creepy as shite!" Ghost spat, arms crossed over his chest, as the two made the journey back to the rest of the team.

"You have said much stranger things, Ghost."

"You can't really be considerin' this." A few beats of silence from the larger man was all the confirmation Ghost needed. "Price would never agree to it."

"He said he could help."

"Help." Ghost huffed. "Right. Help with what exactly? He has no idea what we've been working on."

"Ja, he doesn't know. But what about that bomber? Could it be relevant?" Besides Mouse, the team had been tracking a much more persistent threat. Something that left behind more than just breadcrumbs in the form of mutilated bodies.

"...are you sayin' he could be involved in this?"

"He has been showing up right after every hit."

"Right." Ghost pauses in his tracks, turning his head slightly to look up at the other man. "So you think he's with them? Or.. maybe one of their targets?"

König comes to a stop too and takes a moment to mull it over. Could you have been a part of the group they'd been hunting these past few months? It was a little.. suspicious that you'd show up and take out another high-profile figure right after every strike made. Were you cleaning up their mess? Or your own?

"That's all the more reason to keep him, no? To find out? We know he has someone he reports to." There was also the fact that the explosion had gone off practically right under your own two feet. That had to mean something.

Just following orders?

"It's a little concerning when I of all people have to remind you that he is a very real, living, breathing, capable-of complex-thought person." König brushes off Ghost's concerns with a noncommittal shrug.

If they took the route of you having been just another victim of the explosion, that left many unexplained variables. Such as why you were a target–wouldn't one terrorist organization blend well with another? Why would they be at odds? It also leaves the question that, if you had really been abandoned by your crew, why had "she"–the woman who you'd mentioned–left you for dead? Was it legitimate? Or a ploy of some kind?

Then there was the more believable scenario that would tell it as; you hadn't really been betrayed by your group, or whoever held your metaphorical leash. And the explosion was some kind of distraction, a way to get their attention. Maybe–if one applies the theory that you were in cahoots with the people they'd been hunting–you had wanted to get caught. Or, maybe not you specifically, but whoever "she" was. Maybe you were sent as bait and they'd fallen right into that mouse trap–heh.

Maybe you didn't even know this was all a farce. That would make it all the more believable, no?

Either way, they need you here. For information. And if they played their cards right, if they burrowed their way under your skin and into your heart–like a damn parasite–you would give them exactly what they wanted. Lead them right to both the core of your organization and the group behind the bombing. And if the people or persons behind the bombing were by some miracle connected to who they had been tracking…

"He can help." His words help a certain air of finality to them, a small grin making an appearance under his hood.

Another sigh, but not a no.

Price wasn't as thrilled by König's proposal as Ghost begrudgingly was.

"You want to what." König wasn't a fearful man–unless he was ordering from a drive-thru, that shit was terrifying–but when the Captain looked at him like that. Let's just say he was forever grateful for the cloth that obscured almost the entirety of his face.

"Keep him." And if his voice comes out a little smaller than normal… no one mentions it.

To his right, König hears Ghost let out another heavy sigh. For a man who used to take a blowtorch to a hostage's skin and quite literally wears a skull stitched onto his face every day- if you'd asked König, he'd tell you the Lieutenant had grown soft. Or, well, soft-ish. He would still slit a man's throat without question.

"Why'd you wanna do that?" Gaz pipes up, giving König a blank, indecipherable expression. Coupled with his tone, König couldn't tell which side of the fence he was leaning towards. He knew Gaz, out of all of them, was the one with a more strict moral compass–something König both admired and thought of as foolish–but he also already didn't like their current hostage. So, discerning whether the other man would be for or against his proposition was a complex feat. König would have to walk that fine line, choose his words carefully, to sway Gaz's opinion in his favor.

"We could use his help." Is what König finally lands on. Not leaning too far into what Ghost had described as treating you like a tool, but not dipping into friendly territory either. An even middle ground.

"From what Ghost and I managed to gather," well, König had gathered. Ghost more or less just stood in the background as a silent spectator. "He claims he's been abandoned by someone he'd only refer to as "she". That this woman brought him here from wherever he came from to follow some lead- but that lead seems to have been a dead end."

"A dead end?" If Gaz's thing was compassion and strict morals, Soap's was intrigue. Puzzles and demolitions, that's all it took to draw in their resident impulse-driven pyromaniac.

"A dead end," König repeats, now switching his attention to the Scotsman. "Turns out there was no target, not really. Or, at least, that is what it appears like at first glance."

Soap's eyes light up when König moves to reach into his pocket, fishing for the blank note. Bingo.

"At first, when we pulled this off him, we had assumed it to be blank," he unfolds the crinkled-up paper, mud, water stains and all. König reaches his hand out to pass the note to Price, keeping the others on the edge of their seats. "But if you take another look.."

Price inspects it with a deep frown, then passes it to Gaz, who looks at it with a skeptical raise of his brow, next is Soap then Ghost, and finally back around to König. Upon closer inspection, past all the grime and stains, there was a faint red scribble.

"It is like there was something here," he mutters, smoothing a gloved thumb over the worn parchment as if that will somehow make the faded words clearer.

"But someone must've purposefully scrubbed it away." Ghost adds, seeming much more interested than he had earlier.

Any other person would probably have brushed the now-pinkish, washed-out markings as blood. And König almost had; after all, you were practically swimming in your own blood right now. Clothes stained with it far past recognition.

Even so, he knew that wasn't it.

The paper had a slew of things it was coated in–some recognizable, some not–, but blood was, surprisingly, not one of them.

"Dae ya think 'e knows?" Two.

"Maybe he was the one who erased it?" Three.

"We won't know unless we ask him. But,"

They all look over to Price, waiting for the man's next words with bated breaths.

"We can't jus' do it outright." Price's steely gaze lands on König and he subconsciously stands a little taller.

"König's got the right idea. We can't jus' kill 'im. Not yet." Four. "Not until we know everything he does."

"Aye, Captain." Soap grins, pushing up from where he'd been resting against a wall. He tilts his head in the direction Ghost and König had come from. "Let's go wear 'im down then, yeah?"

"Preferably before he bleeds out." Ghost reluctantly grumbles. "Bastard already looks to be halfway through death's door."

Price looks to König, cocking his head slightly to the right.

"You said he believes he was abandoned, right?"

"That is correct, sir." The corner of Price's mouth ticks up.

"So no one's coming for 'im then?"

A sick twist of anticipation began to swell in König's chest, and suddenly he was a lot more confident than he was a few seconds ago.

"Precisely."

__

The last thing you were expecting after those two giants left was for them to return with the whole damn crew. You'd be lying if you said the leader didn't make every inch of your being tense up. There was just something in his eyes; that cool blue, warmer than König's but still so cold, gave off a deceiving "I'm not a threat" while simultaneously saying "flinch and I'll kill you".

The dark-skinned man and the baby-faced one stood a little ways behind you, and closer to the door. The leader took a seat in the chair König had been sitting in–assuming the same position the Austrian had. Skull-face stood in the same place and König took his place on your right-hand side. Standing just far enough behind you to barely graze your peripheral but close enough where you could feel his presence looming near you. Invading your personal little space bubble with his, so close if he leaned any closer he'd be brushing up right against you.

The leader tried his hand at interrogating you again. It went a little something like this;

"Do you know why she left you?'

"Probably had something to do with my bad attitude."

He gives you an unimpressed look. You simply raise your eyebrows in question. You had broken your vow of silence, but that didn't mean you were going to make it easy on them.

"König said you could help us. Mind tellin' me what exactly you could do to help?"

"I have connections. People who owe me a favor or two." Or five. Hey, in your defense, you had been in the game for a while.

"Are these connections… legal?"

"I highly doubt you care about legalities if you are conversing with me still," Then, just to be a little shit, you add a snide, "sir."

You swear you hear a small huff behind you and you brush it off as a figment of your imagination. After all, you had lost a ton of blood.. It was a miracle you hadn't passed out again from blood loss. At this rate, you should probably be dead. Or, at the very least, comatose or something. Not back-talking the man who was very literally your golden ticket to freedom.

You blamed it on the blood loss. Made you say stupid shit.

"What else can you offer us?" In other words; why should we keep you?

"One less Brit in your ranks?"

"..what?"

"You all could really use some diversity."

There's a pregnant pause before,

"Is making jokes all you're good for?" Skull-face speaks up from behind the leader.

"What can I say? It is part of my charm."

The bearded man in front of you lets out a heavy sigh. Something about that sigh told you this type of thing wasn't new to him. A small part of you perked up with curiosity. You then proceed to beat that part of you back down into a bloody pulp.

"Are you goin' to take this seriously or not, Mouse?" The leader captures your attention again and you shrug. You really should take this more seriously… but the lack of vital, life-supporting fluid in your system was making you loopy.

And stupid.

"König?"

Very stupid.

A small grunt from behind you.

"Hast du darüber nachgedacht, was ich gesagt habe?" (Have you thought about what I said?)

The man in front of you frowns, looking from you to König, to you again. But he doesn't stop you. Someone probably should.

There's a terse silence before König replies.

"Deshalb sind sie hier." (That's why they're here.)

Despite your slightly dazed state, you smile a little to yourself.

"Did you tell him?" Now the leader looks even more confused, if not a little more frustrated. Good.

"Tell me what?" His glare is now trained on König, and you know you've gotten the giant into deep shit now. Even better.

"Nein."

And just like that you, very foolishly, let out a small puff of what was obviously an attempt at laughter. Though a poor one.

At this is rate, you'd sooner get yourself killed than cut loose, but your mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. It also seemed to be keen on digging you into deeper shit.

"It is a good deal.." you trail off, narrowing your eyes a little at the leader. It would be great if you knew their names. But no one seemed interested in filling you in on that, so you continue, "you all could really use the help. After all, the only reason you lot even caught me was 'cause I was having a bit of a bad day."

"A bit of a bad day?" Leader asks.

"Aye," you drawl. Your heart thudded a few times in your chest, slowed, then picked back up again. Really, you should be dead, slumped over in your chair, by now. "Got blown up. Stabbed a few times.. broke a few bones.."

You give a sloppy grin beneath your mask. Yeah, definitely shouldn't be awake right now. "Bit of a bad day."

"He's useless like this, Cap'." One of the men from somewhere by the roll-up door pipes up.

"Agreed." Skull-face huffs. "Poor guy's all hopped up on adrenaline. He's not much use to us now."

The leader–Captain?–scrutinizes you for a few more moments before exhaling heavily.

"Alright." He grumbles, standing up from the chair.

"König," the Brit calls on the man beside you but keeps his stare trained on you, as if daring you to utter another smart-assed quip. "You were so damn adamant about keeping 'im, yeah?"

It's obviously a rhetorical question and the atmosphere shifts, the tension in the air palpable.

The leader, or, you guess, Captain–these men and their pretentious titles..–adjusts the beige-colored, boonie hat on top of his head and signals something to the two men by the door. You hear the telltale clanking of the metal being rolled up.

"You're on babysitting duty, Sergeant," he says in that displeased rumble–one you had become very familiar with during the first attempt at interrogation–as he makes his way for the door. "So get his arse back in the van, we're moving to someplace more permanent."

The other three men proceed to file out after their Captain, leaving you alone with the, now fuming, Austrian.

Annnnnnd…

"Maus." He grits out from behind you. You proceed to, very smartly, not respond.

Shit.

Instead, you stay stock still even as König leans over you and unsheathes a knife from someplace on his person. One heavy hand gripping your, thankfully, non-injured shoulder and the other reaching around to rest the blade beneath your chin. He urges your head up with the tip of it until your eyes–oh, yeah, he was definitely pissed–lock with his. In the short time you'd known him you had almost forgotten how downright intimidating only being able to see those pale, glowing blues staring through your very soul was.

"Sie werden es bereuen." (literal; you will regret it. Contextual; you're going to regret this.)

He, while maintaining eye contact, removes the knife and brings it down to hover just above your waist. Your own gaze can't help but flick between his and his weapon-welding hand. Self-preservation, you call it. König, after all, has that sharp metal alarmingly close to your dick.

You choose to ignore the thrill that causes your breath to hitch, an unfamiliar feeling stirring somewhere in the deepest pits of your hindbrain.

You watch as he–in a strange show of caution–places the gloved hand that had been on your shoulder beneath the coarse rope, thumb and fourth finger keeping the binding in place, and swiftly slices through the thickly twined fibers. He then makes quick work of doing the same to the rope wrapped around your thighs and ankles. The barest hints of warmth emitting from him easily seep through the thin, ruined cloth of your pants. But before you can think too much about how long it's been since you last felt the touch of another not-currently-dying human being, König pulls back.

When you look back up to search out his gaze you find he is no longer staring you down, his own focus entirely on freeing you from the bindings. The lack of pressure on your worn body is a relief and the next breath that leaves you is shakier than the last–you choose to believe it's just your body coming down from its adrenaline high.

The last of the rope that had been keeping your lower half bound to the chair falls away to the floor with a soft thump and König retreats completely to move onto your hands. Thank fuck for your own fabric-clad hands, you aren't sure how much more of this non-threatening touch you could take before you fucking imploded or something. All you can feel is the slight graze of his deft fingers against your concealed wrists, and even that is muted. Courtesy of the current lack of decent blood circulation to your bound extremities.

After that final piece of rope is removed, you're being yanked to your feet. Off-balanced and stumbling as blood rushes back to every limb, you nearly come crashing straight back down. König's firm hold on your forearm is the only thing that keeps you from taking an embarrassing nosedive into hard concrete.

Panting heavily behind the fabric of your mask, you groan as the world swims around you. König only spares you a few seconds to steady yourself and then he's making a sudden appearance in front of you and trading out his grip on your forearm to engulf your wrist–and subsequently almost your entire hand–in one large hand. He wastes no time in tugging you forward to follow in his footsteps.

You realize quickly that the time between the rest of the group leaving and König's undoing of your bindings hadn't really been more than a few moments–half a minute at most–, as the other members of König's team were just now turning a corner and leaving your field of vision.

How embarrassing, you think, it felt like a fucking eternity.

König easily uses his tight grasp on your wrist to lift you up just enough so you don't have to make the small hop off of the elevated ledge and out of the storage unit–thank fuck it wasn't your injured arm. You aren't sure whether to be annoyed at his blatant show of strength–seriously, the movement seemed entirely effortless on his part–or grateful you didn't have to make the jump. Your depth perception wasn't exactly the best right now and you probably would've just fallen right over. You doubted you would have even had the energy to catch yourself.

The walk out of this seemingly abandoned facility and back out into the scalding heat–huh, they must not have taken you very far–was surprisingly quick. Your barely lucid brain blocked out the majority of the dizzying twists and turns it took to find the exit. And soon enough you find yourself back in the loading space of that damn van.

This time you are mostly conscious, so you're granted the wonderful opportunity of bearing witness to the burning glares of the three other men seated on the opposite bench. König takes his place beside you and actively decides to not even glance in your direction. Instead silently communicates something to the other passive-aggressive passengers. Well, skull-face was definitely more on the aggressive side of the spectrum, but you were mostly certain he couldn't do anything. Or so you hoped.

The baby-faced one was looking at you with more curiosity than anything, a minor hint of defense hidden somewhere in those–why the hell does everyone here have the same eyes??–vivid blues. That barely concealed interest was more terrifying than skull-face's obvious death stare.

The Captain turned his attention to the Austrian beside you, nonverbally communicating his displeasure with a hard glare and deep frown. Ah, the dark-skinned man must've been the one driving the damn thing.

After a few more painstaking minutes of having a half-assed staring contest with the two men across from you, you give up and let your eyelids fall half-shut. Still nauseous with blood loss and possible infection, you pant lightly within the confines of your mask. Heat continues to build in the suffocating cloth and you let out another soft groan, unable to help yourself when you slump backward against the metal wall of the vehicle.

The ground moving beneath you does nothing to aid your current lightheadedness and you find yourself focusing most of your limited attention span on not vomiting in your mask. That would be a hellscape on its own to clean, and the humiliation would probably kill you off before the budding infection had the chance.

It doesn't take much time before you can no longer fight off the exhaustion weighing down the big ball of throbbing pain that is your entire body and your eyelids finally slip shut. Before you have the chance to force your eyes open again–this is definitely not an ideal place to fall asleep–a sudden heavy thwack against your mutilated shoulder does the job for you.

Your eyes snap back open, fully alert as you search out the culprit. You find König giving you a blank, deadpan stare and the venomous words sprouting on the tip of your tongue quickly fizzle out when you notice the van has stopped moving. In fact, you two are the only ones remaining inside. The other four are piling up just out of earshot, the backdoors wide open and showing off- well, nothing. It's dark and all you can make out are vague shapes in the background.

You huff and go to stand but König beats you to it. Still holding onto your wrist, he gives a sharp tug and you stagger out of your seat. You send him a seething glare but find that his attention is no longer on you.

König pulls you out the same way he had the storage unit; efficiently lifting you by your arm and out of the vehicle. You barely manage to keep your balance when your boots touch solid ground again and just that little bit of exertion has you sucking in ragged gulps of air.

When the Captain glances over to you two, König makes a show of lifting your arm into the air as if to say got it and the Captain gives a small nod in acknowledgment. You don't have the wherewithal to give a shit about being treated more like an object than a person, brushing it off and trading it out to take in your surroundings instead. Besides, it wasn't something you were exactly.. unfamiliar with.

Surrounding you is another compound. More well-kept than the storage facility you had previously been in, but still obviously worn. The stark white walls were practically glowing in contrast to the pitch-black, starless night sky. Besides some crumbling and scuff marks here and there–most likely from environmental weathering over time–the cinder block walls were almost pristine.

Your fuzzy, mush of a brain briefly considers asking König where the hell they had brought you, but your tongue is like lead in your mouth. Not that it really mattered, you highly doubt he would've told you anyway. You were a prisoner, after all. A prisoner who they were only keeping alive on the off-chance you could help.

Help with what exactly? You had not a clue. Hopefully, they'd soon get their shit together and tell you sooner rather than later. Then again.. what would they do with you once your use to them came to an end? Would they just end up killing you anyway?

Floodlights abruptly make an unwelcome appearance, bathing the courtyard in a blindingly white light and knocking that train of thought right out of your head. You cringe away from the sudden brightness, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily before blinking a few times in rapid succession to adjust.

You only have the time to register the sheer size of the compound before you are being tugged forward again and into the said building. As usual, you silently curse König's unfairly long legs and subsequent far longer strides as you try your damnedest to keep up. The nausea, burning full body ache, and pounding against your skull have yet to lessen. If anything it's become more of an issue now that you're not running on pure adrenaline.

You find yourself fumbling over your own miscalculated steps more often than you make a successful one, König having to more or less drag the majority of your dead weight along with him. The behemoth of a man doesn't even have the decency to make it look like doing so is any struggle. Bastard.

The interior lighting of the compound is somehow far much worse than the blaring exterior. You squint against the harsh brightness and it takes a few seconds for your pulpy mess of a brain to make out the shapes and colors in front of you. Or, well, the astonishing lack of colors. Dull shades of grey coupled with a blinding light. Perfect.

Someone's talking. Multiple someone's, really. But your ears are too stuffed full of cotton to make any sense of what's being said. The most you can do is try to read their lips–which proves to be futile–and try to gauge the emotional state of the men in the room.

The plainly, uniform-dressed men standing guard seem to not at all have a problem with the crew that had brought you in. Though obviously holding a subordinate position in comparison to the team, they shared easy smiles and small laughs with the group. The Captain appears to be keeping up a polite kind of façade–was this not his base?–as he converses with the two newbies. Skull-face, mohawk guy, and the Captain's obvious favorite all stand behind the Captain in an organized order. With skull-face standing the closest–was he some kind of right-hand man?–babyface and the third man stood at a respectful distance. Not too close, but just near enough to assist if needed.

König kept you a little more ways away from the others, a firmer grip on your wrist than before. It would probably hurt if the remainder of your body wasn't currently one giant sore spot. You realize why when one of the guards spares a glance at you and, spotting your eyes on him, immediately shrinks back and averts his gaze.

Ah, this definitely wasn't their base. Made sense. They all were clearly European and unfamiliar with the normalities of wherever the fuck you all were right now. Faintly, you remember the dark-skinned man complaining about how weird it was driving on the right-hand side of the road.

You're snapped out of your own musings by a harsh pull on your arm. A small noise of surprise escapes you and, before you know it, the guards are moving out of the way and you are being escorted further into the building.

Going off the darkness you had awakened to, it is obviously late at night, maybe even well into the morning by now, and the only people you all pass are all exhausted-looking security personnel.

König follows behind the other four down corridor after corridor, dragging you along behind him. Eventually, you all make it out into what appears like a sort of gathering place or common room. For a split second you think they're going to stop there, but, no, they keep going. Down more confusing hallways and through nonsense doors.

Then finally, finally, it all comes to a stop at an unremarkable metal door. Nothing on it, not even a little window, with the exception of the room number plastered next to it.

You squint at the numbers, trying to make sense of the blurry shapes. There's a small tugging in the back of your mind and, if you were any more aware, you'd almost say it was familiar. Huh.

The Captain unlocks and pushes open the door, then, before you even have the opportunity to protest, König yanks you close and shoves you forward. You stumble–again, seriously, did they think you were made of fucking steel??–through the doorway and only barely manage to break your fall on the closet wall. You stand there for a moment, panting and bracing against hard concrete, while the others file in.

If it wasn't for the unnecessarily heavy thunk you probably wouldn't have realized that the door had been shut. Your vision blurs then blacks out for a split second while you catch your breath, and the only thing on your mind is; how the hell am I not dead yet?

You're only given a few more moments of rest then you're being pulled by the wrist again. Unable to even really feel your legs anymore, the sudden brushing of something solid against the backs of your knees is all you have to tell you you've even moved. You don't have to be told twice to sit, hell, you probably wouldn't have been able to hear them if they had given the order.

You drop your weight instantly, unable to hold yourself up any longer. You can't feel much through the fabric separating your fingertips from what's below, but from the slight give when you press down, if you had to guess, you'd say you were seated on a cot of some kind. It's not the most comfortable, but it's the best thing you've had in a long, long while.

Lifting your gaze at the sound of someone's voice, you blink rapidly in a vain attempt at refocusing your vision.

"Hm?"

All four men standing in the room give you vaguely concerned grimaces. Well, you assume König and skull-face do, judging by the crinkling of their limited expression.

"I said-" the Captain begins. Not that you hear any of what comes after that. Head full of cotton and feeling simultaneously like you're both floating and being weighed down by a ship's anchor, you're left futilely trying to read his lips. But that only makes the pounding in your head worsen and you screw your eyes shut again.

Cradling your head in your hands you lean down, elbows propped up on your knees. You suck in shallow, shaky breaths, fruitlessly trying to get the proper amount of oxygen to the lump of mass that is your brain.

When your eyes flutter open again the lights have been dimmed just enough to take the edge off, reducing the strain on your eyes, and you immediately slump in relief. You think you mutter your gratitude under your breath, but, really, you're far too out of it to be certain.

A few more muffled words and the soft thumping of footsteps later and the door opens then shuts one last time. You look up expecting to see nothing but an empty room, a little caught off guard when that behemoth of a man is still looming near the door.

"We should really get you checked out," König says, giving a brief once-over at your disheveled appearance. Giving a noncommittal hum, you take a look down at yourself.

You had not bothered to take full stock of your person since the initial confrontation–and even that was a laughable inspection at best.

Every inch of your exposed skin–which, truthfully, wasn't much–was coated in a layer of mud and your own blood. Your thin civilian outfit was in a similar state of disrepair; caked in blood, more mud, and bits of stuck-on foliage as well. Accompanied with the occasional tear and hole here and there, of course.

"I'll get a medi-" Before he even gets the word out you're launching yourself up and off the bed. Charging at him despite how unsafe that currently is and reaching up to slam your grimy, gloved hand over where you assume his mouth is.

König quickly and easily peels your hand away by the wrist, staring down at you with less anger and more of a really, what are you doing? kind of look.

"Nie." (No.) You breathe as your only explanation. You had had enough of fucking medical staff in your time before your years-long solo operation began. Unknown injections, emotionless stares, and needles. Needles, needles, needles. So many fucking needles. You didn't visit those sterile, frigid laboratories often these days–though you were still required to come in every now and again for a routine 'checkup'.

"No?" König finally breaks through your suddenly hazy headspace–this time said fuzziness wasn't the result of excessive blood loss. You'd rather it were.

"Nie." You repeat again, and there must be something in your voice–something unlike yourself, something a bit too human–because König relents without further question and drops your arm.

"I can't really let you die on us, Maus." He points out with a deadpan stare. Then, probably realizing that phrasing sounded a bit too worried, he adds, "What use would you be to us then?"

"Let me do it."

"You can barely stand up straight and you expect me to hand you a needle?"

"I would rather me than you or some pea-brained white-coat." You huff, narrowing your still very unfocused gaze up at him. You hope it lands, you can't really see clearly right now.

König holds your stare for a few seconds longer before letting out a resigned sigh and looking away. "Fine."

He gives your uninjured shoulder a nudge with a gloved finger and rumbles a low, "Sit down."

You're about to bite back with some witty retort but the words get stuck in your throat when you realize just how close you two are. In your rush to cut off the words spewing from his mouth, you had somehow ended up crowding into his space in a very.. unprofessional way. Chest puffed up in a show of defiance and, subsequently, pressed right up against the other man.

That same, unfamiliar twinge in the furthest recesses of your mind from back in that god-awful storage unit begins to stir and you jolt away sharply. Jumping back and scurrying over to the cot at a faster rate than really necessary, as if that simple touch had burnt you. And, to be frank, it had. Indirectly.

König cocks his head, analyzing you for a brief moment, then shakes it off. Thank fuck. Having quickly averted your gaze, all you hear is some faint rustling and then his legs appear in your line of sight. A small first-aid box materializes from his hand and you lift your own trembling one to take it.

"Thanks." You mumble. You were a monster, not impolite.

König makes a light huff and retreats. Grateful for the, mostly likely unintended, room to breathe, you fumble with the kit before finally managing to wrench the damn thing open. Placing the box beside you on the bed you ungracefully free your first victim from its confines; your thigh.

Stab wound number one, thankfully, has stopped bleeding. On the other, far less favorable, hand, the injury is already a burning, angry red. A light poke at the inflamed skin with your finger has you hissing against the sharp sting.

Deciding keeping up appearances was much less important than your health, you make efficient work of removing both gloves. Also soaked with mud and blood, they would do no more than worsen what was already the beginnings of a very, very serious infection.

There's a bottle of saline solution in the kit and you uncap that first. Folding the bled-through, makeshift bandage in half, you use it to catch the liquid rather than letting the filthy solution drip onto the floor. After flushing out the wound as much as you can–without running the bottle dry, you've still got another to clean–the next step is the worst of them all. Stitches.

If you had it your way, you wouldn't use them at all. You had a tendency to forgo using a needle and thread whenever you could–only stooping to that level when it was absolutely vital. Like right now.

Even then, you only knew one form of sewing; intermittent sutures.

Tearing open a sterile needle packet you, surprisingly enough, make easy work of threading the surgical cotton through the eye of it. Pinching the slice shut with your non-dominant hand, you position the end of the curved metal about a centimeter from where the damn thing starts.

The first pierce of the needle into your tender flesh forces a strained whine from your throat, eyes beginning to water. You blink away the budding tears, exhale a shaky breath, and tie the thread off.

One suture down, an ungodly amount remaining.

Your hand only gets more unsteady as time goes on. Making each stitch more lopsided than the last.

Your vision swims for a brief moment and you swallow back the growing lump in your throat. Come on now, you can do this. You've done this so, so many times before. What was so different this time around?

Just a few more to go. That's all. Then you will be done.. well, then onto the puncture in your shoulder. The shoulder that also happened to be connected to your dominant hand. Great.

"Maus."

You can do this- just stab, push through- wait no, not like that. Pull it out again. Now, do it properly this time-

"Maus." Black gloves invade your sight and you grunt, trying to look around them.

The next time the needle pierces your skin it goes in just short of perfectly–success!–but it's good enough. Will keep your blood in, at least. Then comes tying it off and- come on, don't be difficult now.

Just toss over- like tha- wait, no. Just lift and- fuck.

A low rumble is all you hear and then those gloved fingers are wrapping around your wrist once more and effectively halting your progress. You huff, looking up to glare at him only to find his own hardened gaze staring down at you.

"-keep trying, you are only going to hurt yourself." Wait, had he been talking this whole time? "Then what use would you be then, hm? You would be of no help if you died because of your own damn stubbornness."

You feebly try to tug your hand back, but he doesn't budge, simply using his other hand to pluck the needle from your hand. Narrowing your eyes, you do the only thing you can do; throwing hundreds of imaginary knives at that stupid smug look in his eyes and internally cursing him out.

After your two's little staring contest goes on long enough for your captured hand to start going numb, you relent. Letting out a heavy sigh and dropping your gaze.

König makes a small noise of approval and releases your wrist. You don't watch as he finishes up the mess of stitches sewn into your thigh, nausea returning with a vengeance and forcing you to shut your eyes again.

He finishes up relatively quickly, faster than you probably could have in this state, and rinses the wound again before pasting a bandage over it.

"I need you to look up."

"Hm?" Light pressure under your chin causes your eyelids to flutter back open and you frown.

"Wha-?"

"Up." He reasserts, using his guiding touch to urge your head up and out of the way. Forcing you to straighten out your shrimp-like posture and provide König with access to your injured shoulder.

Said shoulder that was more bruises and blood than it was untouched flesh; able to get a decent look at it now that König had removed the sloppy work that was your mess of torn fabric and duct tape.

He repeats the same steps you had to clean the wound and this time you watch. Less so keeping an eye on the weeping wound and more so on the hand sticking the–new, he had discarded the one used on your thigh–thin metal through your skin. He's surprisingly delicate with it, despite his size he is far more precise with his sutures than you had been. Carefully inserting the needle and tying off every knot with practiced ease. Unlike you, he hadn't foregone his gloves, and that's why you notice it when you do. Having been so attuned to his busy hands.

His gloves are still stained with your blood.

Coated in a thick, dried layer of it. Dark against the already black fabric, flakes of crimson chipping off and drawing your eye.

It was the only part of him that showed any hint of wear from the morning's efforts. Every other inch of his uniform was speck-free, not a single item out of place, scuff mark, or splatter of blood.

It didn't make much sense for you to be fixated on such a minor facet after the laborious events of today. There were so many other things to draw your attention. Like the repeated motions of the curved metal puncturing your skin over and over again, for example. Or maybe his close proximity–accompanied by that weird feeling again.

But, no. Every last bit of your remaining attention span was focused solely on your own blood marking his hands. You sounded insane, even to yourself and that was an entire feat of its own.

You release a small breath of relief when he pulls away, slapping on another thick bandage over your second, freshly stitched injury. Then comes a sudden sting right above your eyebrow and you jolt away with a hiss.

Refocusing back into reality, König is still standing above you. Only this time he's welding an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball, also tarnished with your blood.

"Cut is deep." Is the vague explanation you get, coupled with a small gesture to your face. "No stitches will be needed. But,"

He reaches down to rifle through the first aid kit and makes a soft sound of victory when he finds whatever he's looking for. Holding your face still in one hand, he dabs at the cut a few more times before switching sides and drying it off. König throws the dirtied cotton along with wherever he'd discarded the scraps of your clothes and other miscellaneous trash.

Next comes another burning sting as he presses something over the wound. A few 'something's.

"A few pieces of tape should do the trick." He muses as he smoothes the sterile strips against your skin, the faint metallic scent of your own blood flooding your senses. Gross.

You really needed some sleep, or maybe it was finally time to check yourself into some kind of mental reform. Seriously, this was getting out of hand.

"Now," König pulls away for the final time, doing a brief scan of your exhausted form and nodding to himself. "Sleep."

You half expected König to leave it at that, to exit the room like the other four had. And probably lock the door behind him. Your hopes are crushed when he takes a seat a few feet away from your cot, settling into an uncomfortable-looking chair you hadn't noticed beforehand.

Oh, right. The Captain had assigned him as your personal babysitter. How fucking lovely.

Scooting back to slump against the wall furthest away from the other man, you send him a weak glare. Wanting nothing more than to argue that you can't sleep like this–not with him watching over you like some damn stalker–you find that when you try, you can't.

For what feels like the millionth time today, your eyelids droop until you cannot resist any longer. Falling completely shut and likely not going to open for a while, you give in. Unable to find it in yourself to give a damn right now.

Besides, you could.. moderately trust König wouldn't murder you in your slumber. He hasn't yet. And that seems to be enough for your sleep-deprived brain, as sweet unconsciousness soon drags you under.

___

One | Two | Masterlist | Next

___

(finally figured out how to tag y'all properly! Sorry bout that. Thought I was doing it right this whole time 😞)

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @gloma08 @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm @mello-life69 @unkn0wnd3ad @tayaisback @starre-eyes @ravage-reposts @suhmie

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments!

#call of duty #cod x male reader #male reader #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #könig cod #könig x male reader #reader insert #gay #mlm

[slamminslamminmcgill]

*me convincing you, like how a jester would entertain a king, into writing more boypussy insert fics about any hot dilf in your roster* “how is thou feeling now sire?!”

im feeling like i wanna get fucked in the ass so you’re getting joel and butt stuff have fun

warnings: anal, rimming, dp, ass to pussy (do not try this at home), toys, ass to mouth, poppers, daddy kink

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy

joel miller is an absolute buttslut

HOWEVER

only as a top. he will take any chance he gets to take his partners ass: with his tongue as it’s slipping and sliding all up and down your dripping slit, with his thumb as he takes your cunt doggystyle, or even with his own cock busting you open for him

but he will never let you reciprocate. you can beg all you like,

“man, it’s not fair, this is bullshit. how come you can play with my ass but i can’t play with yours?”

“because i’m a top and you’re a needy little cocksocket.”

welp. can’t argue with that. the more you tease him about it, though, the more time he thinks it over. he doesn’t like rewarding brats, but eventually he gives.

“y’know what? fine. you got five minutes. make ‘em count, cause y’aint touchin’ my ass again.”

that turns out to be a lie bc uh oh surprise surprise it feels good

and from then on he loves it and will take the initiative.

you’ll be on your knees getting throatfucked by him and then he rips you off, spins around, and shoves your face in his ass with no warning. you try to push back bc you’re caught off guard, and he says,

“what? ain’t this whatcha wanted, boy? you’d been begging me all this time to lick my ass. well, now i’m givin’ it to ya. c’mon, whore. do your job. stick your tongue up my ass.”

you start licking, lapping at his rim like a dog, and he lets out a rich gravelly, rumbly moan from deep in his chest

“yeeaaahhh, that’s it… good boy… oh, you dirty fuckin’ bitch…”

pegging him is still a bridge too far for him. BUT i think he’ll let you try out beads/plugs on him. also fingering him during a blowjob will have him going crazy.

i know in my heart that this man is PACKING meat. DISRESPECTFULLY hung. which means getting him in your ass can be a bit of an ordeal. but, being the caring, attentive guy he is, he’ll take his sweet time prepping you. he works you open with his fingers (or maybe a plug) and lots of lube. you’re Very slippery once it’s go time. still, though, it’s gonna be tough to get him in.

he hands you a bottle of poppers and tells you,

“take as much as you need, pumpkin. it’ll help open you up for me.”

once you huff enough, he’ll ask, “ready?”. you nod, and he starts pushing in. you wince, naturally, but he’s there to talk you through it.

“i know. i know, baby. it’s okay. you can take it. you can take it… let daddy in, yeah, there you go… look at you, you’re takin’ it so good. daddy’s so proud of you, little guy.”

he’ll start slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling of him in your ass, and once you relax enough, maybe after a few more popper hits, he’ll really get going. he’ll spank you, shove a few fingers in your pussy for some dp action, the works.

sometimes just for shits and giggles, he’ll pull out, spin you around, slap your face with his cock, and say,

“clean your ass off my cock, slut.”

because he has to use a lot of lube on you, you’re VERY slippery. it’s entirely possible that he’ll slip into your pussy on accident. you yelp, and he stops immediately.

“shit. sorry, darlin’. should i-?”

you know it’s bad. you know better. but, fuck, your cunt is clinging to him, crying for some of the attention that your ass has been getting… fuck it.

“i-it’s fine! it’s fine, just-… just keep going, please!”

having been given the greenlight, he’ll just switch back and forth. one thrust in your pussy, then your ass, then your pussy, so on and so forth. it’s wrong. it’s nasty. you know you shouldn’t be doing it, but fuck, your head is swimming in pleasure, both holes a sloppy mess as you cum all over yourself over and over. whatever. you’ll just take some cranberry pills and hope tomorrow doesn’t bite you in the ass.

joel WILL finish in your ass. that’s non-negotiable. if you let him in your ass he’s GOING to breed it. he may also plug his load in you and have you sleep with it in. or go about the rest of your day depending on what time it is.

once he’s done though, he’s hugging you tight and stroking your hair. aftercare god.

“good boy… did so good for daddy… ‘m so proud, baby…”

eventually you have to nudge him off so you can go pee (it’s called harm reduction 😌) but when you’re done you settle back into his arms and it’s like you never left 🖤

#anon #ask #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller headcanon #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader

[twodimensionalboyfriend]

Aki spa day :))

wc: ~2.1k read time: ~8 minutes

༉‧₊˚.¸♡ master list✧ '*•༉

cw: established relationship, fem reader (GN throughout, calls her a beautiful girl at the end bc im kind of a whore for that shit), fluff, make out (i wouldn’t say it’s spicy but like it’s kinda seasoned i guess), mildly ooc aki but only because he’s experiencing happiness and idk if that man has ever known an ounce of joy,

if there are an content warnings you think i missed, please tell me so!! i’ll add them to this post and remember to add them to future ones!! :) ♡ ♡

and pls pls like and reblog and reply!! literally if you interact i will kiss you on the mouth

Being a public safety devil hunter is no one’s dream job. While the pay is pretty great and you get plenty of PTO, the death, tragedy, and destruction you see on a weekly basis is not always worth it. The only reason you’ve stuck around this long is because somehow you lucked out with your partner.

Aki.

He’s so mellow and kind and smart and he is so so handsome. These last few years with him have been some of the most difficult of your life, but he makes it manageable. The two of you have been partners for the last 3 years. You both have your eyes set on killing the gun devil, but you know that deep down, it's only Aki who believes he can actually get the job done.

Truthfully, you wished for an easy life with him. All you want is to work a usual 9 to 5 (preferably one that won’t kill you), come home, make dinner and have a quiet evening with the man you love. God, how does something so simple sound like such an unattainable fantasy?

On your days off, you like to lean in to the fantasy a little bit. You took off this Friday in return for working a mission the following Sunday, so you slept in, made a nice brunch, ran some errands and decided that you were going to do a full skin care spa day at home to relieve some stress. It’s rare that you get the chance to take time to take care of yourself, so this was definitely needed after a very long week at work. Which is what you were doing when Aki came home that evening.

You heard the door open and his post-work-day sigh, “y/n, you home?”

“In the bathroom!”

Aki walked in and couldn’t help but smile a little bit. You were in an old t-shirt of his that was just a bit too big and some lounge pants with cats on them. You had your hair clipped out of your face and were applying under-eye patches. He leaned in and kissed the top of your head. It surprises him every time that no matter what you’re doing or wearing, he still thinks you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen.

“How was work today?” you asked.

“Could have been worse. Makima has Power and Denji training with Kishibe non-stop since the ambush on the devil hunting divisions, so it was nice not having them around all day,” he went on, “But I know that she knows something we don’t about the recent ambush attacks and why they targeted Denji. She’s not telling us and I need to figure out what it is and why. Oh, and we also killed a roach devil, so that was pretty gross. Just felt like a long day."

You sighed. He’s always cared too deeply. You’ve tried to tell him that he shouldn’t be so invested in the job and that he should just treat devil hunting as a paycheck ad nothing more, because at the end of the day you all know that you’re replaceable. It hurts when you see him coming home carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for a job that would replace him in less than a week.

You step towards him, “I’m sorry that work was rough. I mean, when is it not but, you know.” Your hands reach up and pull his hair tie out, letting his hair fall down, “How about this? You shower and then change into comfy clothes, and I can give you a little massage and face treatment? Having clean skin and being taken care of always helps me unwind,” you said with a smile.

Aki thought about this. Honestly? He felt exhausted. He was hungry and was looking forward to dinner and sleeping. But you looked so cute with your under eye patches, and the idea of being pampered and loved by his girlfriend was not at all unappealing. “Okay. That sounds.. nice, actually.”

“Yay! Okay, step one is to go take a shower and wipe off the bad energy from work today. Take your time and enjoy the warm water! I’d join you but I literally just showered,” you chuckle and finished up your routine with some lip balm. .

“I mean you can never be too clean—”

“Yeah yeah, get your ass in there,” you pushed him and he laughed softly. You never wanna go a day in your life without hearing it.

About 15 minutes later, you hear the bathroom door open and Aki’s footsteps shortly following. “Alright missy," he walked in to your shared bedroom wearing a black t-shirt and some grey sweatpants, “What’s step two?”

“You washed your face in the shower, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“‘Kay, go lay down in bed. I’ll be there in a sec!”

Puzzled yet smiling, Aki went to the bedroom. A moment later, you came in with some of your skin care. Bottles, tubes and other containers clinked with each other as you walked.

“Uhh, am I still gonna have skin after this?” he teased, “Wait what are those for?” he pointed at the strawberry barrettes in your hand.

“Clipping your hair back!" You dump your things onto your nightstand beside you, "I figured having it loose and clipped back was more comfortable after it’s gets tied back all day.”

Your hands reached up and gently pulled his bangs out of his face and clipped them back. His hair was always so soft and shiny, which you always found unfair considering he does nothing but shampoo and conditioner after tying it up all day.

Aki hummed in agreement. He loved when you played with his hair. He didn't know another person's hands could feel so good, “A correct assumption,” he smiled as you finished tucking his bangs back.

“Okay, so first I’m going to tone your skin then I’ll use some relaxing serums. I don’t know how, but you are blessed with very clear skin, so I don’t want to go crazy with cleansers and peels,” you beginning to apply a toner with some cotton rounds.

“Peels? Wait, will I actually still have skin after this?”

“Hey! Trust the process,” you laughed and bopped him in the forehead with the cotton pad.

And yet again, that little fantasy sneaks up on you from your subconscious. A life where you can treat and love your boyfriend like this. A life where you hear his laughter more often than his weeping. A life where he smiles more than he wears that stoic glower he has all the time. The way he melts and relaxes under your touch is something that is so special to you. You wished you could do it for him more often.

“Okay now I’m gonna use some niacinamide for any discoloration you have,” you say as you drop some serum on his face

“Do I have discolora—” he gasped, “That stuff is cold!”

“Relax you baby, and no you don’t because life is very unfair,” you felt him chuckle as you began massaging the product into his face. His skin was soft under your gentle hands and you could feel his breathing slowing as he let himself ease into your touch. It felt nice to take your time and love him like this. Life is always so fast and intense for Aki. He deserved to have these slow and soft moments.

You tapped his face gently, "Time for eye patches, like the ones I had earlier.”

“What are they for?”

“The ones I’m gonna put on you are just hydrating with a little bet of retinol for any fine lines. And while those sit I’ll tweeze your brows and depuff your face with a face roller!” you say as you crack open the patches.

“And you do this every night??” Aki asked.

“Oh god no, this is like the relaxation treatment I do when I get a day when I finally have nothing to do. I wish I had the time and energy to do this every day,” you joked. “Okay eye patches are on! Now sit up, because I don’t trust myself to not fuck up your eye brows while you’re upside down.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I trust you either,” he grunted as he sat up.

Once he was right side up, you began to position yourself sat in front of him but you yelp when he pulls you into his lap by surprise. You felt your heart speed up a bit when you felt his groin press into yours and his hands settled on your hips. You stutter, “woaHA-Aki! Uhm, am I..” you swallowed, “Uhm— are you comfortable?”

“I feel just fine,” He said in an innocent tone, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. Aki loved to pick on you like this. It’s rare that you stumble or get flustered out in the field or with all your friends, and he thinks you’re so cute when you’re a little worked up, “Are you comfortable, y/n?”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you asked.

Fine, two can play that game.

You grabbed his face and pulled him towards your lips. The way his mouth instantly opened for your tongue turned you on even more and you rolled your hips into his. The groan he made was so sexual it made you shiver. Your favorite thing about loving Aki is the way it feels like he savors every touch you two share. Every time his mouth and tongue move against yours, it made you feel loved and wanted. Though he always gives you that feeling no matter what he did.

His grip on your hips tighten as you ran your fingers through his hair. You smiled into the kiss as you felt him get harder underneath you when you pulled on it. Gotcha.

You slow the momentum and then give him one last sweet kiss, “Okay, time to start on your brows!”

He had a buffering look on his face as he realized what you meant, “W-wait, c’mon— That’s not fair!”

You began to work, “I don’t understand what you mean? Thought we were just being silly? Just playing? Joshing around if you w—”

“Alright missy, you’ve made your point, very funny ha ha now finish up my face.” But his smile gave away what his tone tried to hide.

And so, for the next few minutes you hummed some song stuck in your head while Aki occasionally hissed as you tweezed.

“Okay all done!” You said as you plucked the last hair.

“So? How do I look?”

“Well, not everyone’s can look as good as mine but you’re definitely doing better than before!” you giggled as you handed him a mirror.

“Very funny,” he looked at his brows, “Oh woah, they look super clean.”

“The power of facial grooming. I’m gonna finish you off with some moisturizer and your skin will be free of toxins.”

“What toxins?”

“I don’t know, ask the influencers, because apparently our bodies are full of them,” you said, applying the cream to his face as he chuckled. And yet again, you wished life was a little bit different.

Aki, on the other hand, loves spending time with you. He would do almost anything if it made you happy, and didn’t think about why until recently. You had this weird ability to make it seem like everything was going to be okay. He wants to keep having these moments with you to help drown out the sounds of everything else in his life. Aki realized, up until now, he was just surviving through whatever life threw at him, but with you he wants to actually live through it. He wants to take you out and enjoy the evening. Actually cook and taste good food, not just tolerate whatever gave him enough to keep going. He doesn’t have to just put up with the people in his life. Maybe... and just maybe... Aki can actually love and care for someone again.

He knows this line of work is going to kill him in a few years, and that Aki has goals that he just can't give up on. He doesn’t even think he deserves to live a good life with you, truthfully. Yet he’s decided to be selfish and try to have it anyways

He snaps out of his thoughts, “What are you craving for dinner?”

“Pork onigiri?”

“Pork onigiri you will have,” he leaned in for a kiss and said, “I love you very much. Thank you for always taking care of me, beautiful girl” he kissed you again.

You pulled away, “Of course. I’ll always take care of you; I love you too.”

He gave you one last peck before getting up and walking to the kitchen for dinner.

#aki hayakawa #hayakawa aki #aki hayakawa x reader #chainsaw man #csm #aki hayakawa x y/n #csm x reader #fluff #csm fluff

[mattsdae]

mean matt w an insane breeding kink.. also him talking down to you bc you’re crying and whining about how bad it hurts when he stretches you ‼️

srry for the super late reply, i was going to make a full fic but i couldn’t finish it for the life of me sooo

anyways i was thinking of matt coming home after working on the show. because he basically disappears for 6 weeks, you two don’t have the time for proper sex. like, there might be a handjob or two whenever he gets super frustrated but he’s usually so exhausted from staying up for a week straight that he can’t actually fuck you, only to do the same thing starting the next day.

after the run is over, it takes a day or two for him to come out of it and be kinda normal (which usually means a ton of sex to make up for the days without it). the issue is, going without sex for that long makes you tighten up a bit. yeah, you could finger yourself or play with your toys while he’s gone, but it’s not the same.

usually he spends extra time fingering you, slowly stretching you open while kissing all over your thighs. even then, the fingering doesn’t help much cuz as he’s slowly pressing into you, you feel the intense stretch around just the head. he tries to take it slow, mumbling little praises like so good while also hissing from how tight you are.

he finally bottoms out while you whimper and squirm under him. you keep whining it hurts and he leans nice and close, asking safeword? you shake your head before he starts thrusting. you let out little gasps and whines while he holds your hips still, preventing you from moving away.

he starts being mean knowing that you’re okay, his face right by yours. you really think this hurts? you nod. that just means i have to fuck you more. gotta get you used to me again. you put your hands against his chest and try to push him away, his body weight pressing down on you. why’re you pushing, baby? you don’t want me to talk? i thought you loved my voice.

he smiles against your neck as he feels you tighten around him, back arching. he knows your close (mostly from his words), which only invites more teasing. oh poor thing. i thought it hurt? now you’re gonna cum on my cock? since it hurts so much, maybe i should slow down..

you beg for him to keep going, making him smile at how desperate you are. his fingers dig into your hips, huffing as he brought himself closer. you whine, cumming as he bites down on your shoulder. he starts whimpering as you throb around him, making him cum inside of you soon after. you squirm, expecting him to pull out, but he holds himself there for a minute.

he digs his teeth in for a split second before letting go, leaning back and slowly pulling out. you whine as he does so, gasping as he starts to finger you again. he chuckles nice and deep as he pushes his cum as deep inside of you as he can.

he curls his fingers into your g-spot and smiles. you think you can cum again? you nod with a whine as he leans down. the moans that you make are pornographic as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pressing his fingers against your walls. every so often, he’d pull his fingers out just to scoop up the drops that escaped you. the noises were just as pornographic, a squelching sound coming out every so often.

the mix of the noises, his mouth and his fingers shoves you over the edge, sobbing as you cum once again. he slowly pulls his fingers out, licking them clean as you catch your breath.

he rubs over your tensed muscles as you calm down, giving you a kiss. you did so good. it didn’t really hurt, did it? it did really hurt, but he didn’t have to know. you knew he’d feel bad about it, even if you assured him that you enjoyed it.

he carries you to the bathroom and starts a shower, taking out all the fancy body scrubs that were only used during aftercare. the whole time you shower, he gives you little kisses and talks about how good you did before wrapping you up in a towel and grabbing some nice pajamas from your dressers. even though you feel a little sore while going to bed, you already know the whole routine would repeat again for the next couple of days until matt gets back to his normal schedule.

side note; he does this almost everytime he comes back from a show run that you go out and buy plan-b in preparation.

#asks #this has been sitting in my drafts for well over a month before i deleted all of it and wrote this #srry to anon lol i tried #matt stone x reader #writings

[cinnamon-phrog]

Just to give you an excuse to shout about him, what's your favourite trait of kryten's?

Bald :)

So like have you ever seen of the Benny Hill show and seen the running gag where he takes this short bald dude and just smacks his head like an honest to god boo. I wanna d that to Kryters bc it would be funny.

But to be a little more specific, I like his story the most.

WARNING: A very long discussion about Kryten like genuinely I've been writing this for like genuinely hours read my deranged ramblings at your own risk

It's expanded upon a little more in the novels, and in it there's more information about his time at Nova 5.

Poor bog-bot just wanted to help out the only way he knew how to: Cleaning, and in the process he killed most of the crew and nursed the dying ones to the where he was just straight-up in denial over their deaths to the point where he believed his own internal lies.

He can lie to himself, but not to others. I find that really interesting about him. Makes me want to learn more.

He wants to be a sarcastic little bitch-droid, but outwardly he will always behave like a mild-mannered single divorced 50's housewife with three demanding human/humanoid beings to take care of.

In the books, his existence is touched upon in a... very depressing light.

In Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers, instead of being talked out of deactivating himself, he actually does so.

Only for Lister to bring him back, of course.

And throughout the entire book series he thinks of or nearly deactivates himself, it's more prominent in the books but I ~think~ he says it in the show too, but I can't be sure.

And oh my god Backwards. Backwards my best friend whom I despise.

There's so much Kryten in there, and his little internal insights are interesting to me.

He kills in reverse, for example. And the whole idea of him killing someone is enough to make him want to deactivate himself.

He also, canonically, when he has nothing to do or have any use in that given moment, will sit in his bunk in complete fear that he isn't doing what he was made to do, and the guilt drives him near insane.

I realize I'm only grasping at the books but they make me AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. He's such a. All the Dwarf boys are angstty but I've seen nobody fully touch on Kryten so it might as well be me, it is my SilliconGod given right.

I like how glittery he is in the middle series', it's very subtle but I see it and am transfixed. Bewitched even.

He ism't ugly to me. I mean yeah he's not going to get onto the cover of Vogue [he should though. Can you fucking imagine. Rob or Doug if you need any promotional ideas for those new projects you teased this would be so fucking funny please.]

But his eyes ARE pretty. To ME.

Also may I touch up on the comics because they are wonderful.

There's a few bits about Androids, that robot sitcom he likes, and there's a literal [offscreen] sex-scene, which can mean either:

Even though the demographic is specified for droids, because of the obvious, thinly veiled by humour classism sex exists purely in the show simply to appeal to humans because they're the ones who made it and even though it's a show for robots it's still got to appeal to their masters.

To go against the all robots are asexual allegations Kryten just genuinely doesn't like it because it is Icky to him and he's rather Get It On by cleaning [another canon thing in the books, dirty things, like literal dirty things like unwashed plates and umopped floors, fill him with rapture and make his mouth dry with lust. Also need ye forget DNA and becomes a human where he gets a major chubby while looking at a magazine article for vacuum cleaners...........

And his disdain for cute and conventionally attractive is evident in both the show and the comics.

He thinks Cammiles' appearance [both mechanoid and blob form] to be cute not despite of her imperfections, but because of them, and if that isn't just the cutest thing in the entire world I don't know what is.

He disdains a creature called the Geep in the comics, a autism-creature looking ass bitch that leeches off of human protectiveness with it's adorable fluffiness, to which Kryten is unbothered by, in fact annoyed by.

Same for the episode in the later series where........ uh........... well............. Cat gets pregnantenant and the kiddos use their shapeshifting abilities to look cute [like a hedgehog in a top hat with a little shopping trolley] to which Kryters Could Not Give a Single Fibre optic Fuck about.

He just wants to chill and be a little selfish and honestly he deserves it. He deserves that garden he dreamt of dammit.

Speaking of, it's not mentioned in the books. But he most definitely is hinted to have desires.

In Better Than Life, he's mopping the floor for Cat before Rimmers psyche taints the virtual world, and when the milk turns sour and Cats' Valkirie Sex Slave Army walk out on him seem awfully convenient since in IWCD one of Krytens' favourite scenes in Androids is where a character sets all the prosti-droids free, that combined with his response to Cat makes me think that he definitely willed that to happen himself and Rimmers' mind actually started poisoning he and Cats' part of BTL at the volcano.

And oh my god..... Backwards' ending.

He sacrifices himself for his friends, killing himself, not out of feeling useless, but because it was the only way he could come at use and save them. Or at least he was able to save just Lister and Cat.

The next book, The Last Human, doesn't really grab my eye but theres' a part where Kryten greets this GELF dude [or the dictator of the GELFS or something I don't know] And it's briefly mentioned that he just loves people that go against the system, that he totally would if it wasn't in his stupid code to obey, and it makes him 'shiver'.

He seems to want love, after being more than disappointed to have to tell Cammile to go off the her blob husband Hector [Hector is a fucking Cuck] but he did it anyway, even though the truth was he wanted her to stay, he lied to make her happy.

Because he doesn't see himself highly at all. He demeans himself to such an extreme it makes me want to take his stupid geometric head and kiss it because he NEEDS affection he needs to KNOW WHT IT'S LIKE SO BADLY and I want him to receive that!!!!!!! I want to give him that!!!!!

When I was a little kid I switched the channel to one playing Red Dwarf and all I could remember some years later was Kryten and how silly he was.

I then saw the promotional Red Dwarf AA ads for TPL, and I had no idea what RD even was at the time and thought they were just some weird mascots.

THEN. A little bit later. I was bored as shit with nothing to do and I flicked the channel again. Low and behold, enter El Roboto.

I could just FEEL the crush coming on so I had to literally force myself to stop watching RD and forget about it because god damn it not him anything but him. I even tried to get myself to develop a crush on literally any other character [as you can probably tell by now, and if not well... I think your reading comprehension might need a tad of work] it did not work.

So, he's been present in my life before I even knew his name, [and before I could even spell my own] and by that logic it makes sense why I just adore him as much as I do, it's like that dream you can't remember but the feelings you felt never left.

I joke about hating him but the opposite is true. The complete opposite.

He's my own special little guy, who I rotate in my mind when I'm bored and who's existence eases me when I'm sad.

I have been writing this for literally hours nonstop because I cannot hold back when it comes to talking about him. I'm sure if I thought a little more I could come up with another thousand reasons I love him but I have to go to bed.

#rd #red dwarf #kryten #kryten 2x4b 523p #f/o #<--- i am slightly confident enough to put this in the f/o tag as well as the rd tag and i'll ease into it #🤖🌠 #it is nearly ten and i've been writing this since seven fucking SMITE ME

[luckycheesefoodie321]

TUA S2 Rewatch

Elliot sticks a gun up on Five, Diego and Lila. Diego: You wanna take this or should I? Five: No, I got him. Diego *turns to distract Lila*: Hey Lila- Five *deflects the gun*

Yknow what good on you Luther for coming clean. Could’ve gone the easy route and used Viktor’s memory loss to his advantage but apologised straight up and was honest about the terrible things he did

The Swedes are just weirdos and it is kinda sad how it’s just big brother Swede at the end trying to avenge his brothers

“I was alone for 45 years”… it’s still only been like… 2 weeks for Five, and he hasn’t had a moment to breathe

I maintain that Diego vs Reggie is one of the best fights in TUA. But the way Reggie just destroys Diego’s self-esteem once more with one word (even tho he doesn’t know who Diego is) straight after shanking the guy!

Five wanting to protect Viktor from the truth and saying it was an asteroid that caused the 2019 apocalypse (which is technically true)

Klaus having literal trauma mannnnn they all wonder why he has so many vices

Diego getting to meet Grace IRL >•<

Allison tucking in a drunk Klaus

Reginald Hargreeves sucks. Periodt (referring to his encounter with Luther)

“I can handle it” says the guy who burst into tears and stuffed chocolate into his mouth in front of her husband, got pummelled by a big dude during a pit match to avoid his emotional pain, and is currently gorging on scrambled eggs

Diego being bitter and shady about Viktor, but them immediately accepting his apology (partially bc he’s taking his feelings about Lila out on him) “I don’t remember what I did, but I’m sorry…if that means anything” “…it does”

JUST LISTEN TO DIEGO’S LOVE TROUBLES LUTHER

Ok but the epic music behind their reunion was fun

And the fact that even tho Viktor still doesn’t have his memories back, they’re all still so cuddly with each other. THE LIL “HI” FROM VIKTOR AND THE THE LIL KISS KLAUS PUTS ON VIKTOR’S HEAD

Five apologising for messing up the time travel!!!

“Klaus is… doing something weird and pervy but probably related” *Ben makes a semi-agree face*

Five desperately trying to contain his sorrow at finding his siblings dead (for a second time) but these fools are all so caught up in themselves they don’t see how messed up Five’s life and the past two weeks have been

“The healthiest long term relationship this family has had is when Five was banging that mannequin” VIKTOR’S LOOK OF CONFUSION HAHAHAHA

“Oh does this mean I have to face my cult?”

VIKTOR’S LIL HOPS INTO THE GROUP HUG

Ok I spoke too soon. I forgot about Five vs Lila set to Bad Guy. Also a dope fight

Ok but the Swedes losing their first brother and then they got the nerve to set his funeral to Hello in SWEDISH. WHY YOU MAKE ME FEEL BAD FOR THEM LIKE THIS

Is Big Brother Swede gonna come back in S3 like Hazel did???

Ok but being a black woman landing in the 60s in Texas??? Scary enough. Add to that she can’t even speak and as someone whose ability relies on her voice and not being able to use it is already rough, but then she can’t even call out for help even without her superpower? Goddamn terrifying… and it’s just personified by those white men who chase after Allison. And those women who don’t know a thing about her but just see a terrified woman immediately jump to her rescue

“I just realised who you sound like” “Who?” “Dad” “Don’t say that” Ben is not immune to the trauma caused by Reggie

HOLD UP BEN WAS 17 WHEN HE DIED. 1989-2019 = 30 years, + 3 for time in Dallas = 33 - 16 = 17?!??? So Justin’s been playing a 17yo this whole time?!!!! Bro I was like maybe he died in his 20s but no that is so young!!

Oh god the way Reggie sweeps in and immediately takes control of the room and they all immediately fall silent and sit even without a word from him. The freaking power this man has over them. Even Five who hasn’t seen or talked to the man for 45 years. The only one who isn’t significantly affected is Klaus and he’s always been irreverent and has had recent interaction with him in the afterlife and Viktor who doesn’t remember him

Just the descent into children in front of their father

Viktor’s little oops after flexing their power

I hear Allison is gonna get some trauma assessment in S3 and the fact she’s been doing some heavy day drinking this season is… set up??

REGINALD HARGREEVES IS A LIL BITCH (in reference to him completely ripping apart Diego’s self esteem)

Luther rips open his shirt “LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO ME” Five: “oh shit. why?”

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TAKE KLAUS SERIOUSLY FOR ONE SECOND ISTG

Funnily enough this whole scene is the reason Reggie doesn’t choose these particular kids and ends up forming the Sparrow Academy

The fact Luther has to drag Klaus out the elevator

So interesting that Five can talk as equals with Reginald as a 58 year old. In turn Reggie treats him quite well.

I feel so bad for Elliot

The murder spree! The fbomb they let Aiden drop XD

My darling Ben WHO IS SIXTEEN being able to prance about the dirt and flowers and the situation quickly turns to sex with a woman who is anywhere between 17 and 25 (tho she’s prolly around 18-21 given she gave up university when she joined Klaus’s cult)

DIEGO AND BEN REUNITING DUDEEEE IT WAS SO CUTE AND YOU CAN TELL BEN IS STILL TECHNICALLY YOUNGER THAN HIM

Five has such love for his family and it makes me sad when none of them recognise that behind his actions. That said the fact that he and Viktor both powered up to fight but then simultaneously powered down to avoid a fight was both sweet but also so fun bc I’m wondering if they’ll pay that off later down the track

Ray is too good for all this Umbrella nonsense. But man Allison is gonna have it rough in the next season since Claire prolly doesn’t exist huh

I know they killed Elliot and I felt sad for Elliott and they were trying to kill Allison and Ray but man being forced to kill your own brother and the guy who plays big brother Swede sold it HARD. Like dude was ready to chop off his hand!!

The Reggie-Grace fall out was sad.

HAHAHAH THE 7 SYMPTOMS OF PARADOX PSYCHOSIS

Luther gently patting away Five’s sweat

Klaus you are so much more than sexy trash bby

Lmao Diego appreciating the Antonio Banderas compliment from Klaus

Diego sending back the fire hose for Klaus to hang onto before he lost consciousness

Klaus getting a shitload of numbers in just a sarong

KLAUS MAKING IT TO THE DOOR AND BEN BEING THE ONE TO GO IN FOR VIKTOR. But also interesting that Ben isn’t totally unaffected by Viktor’s energy waves

IM THE DADDY HERE. Five, please, you’re being unseemly!

they really Second-Death’d my boy Ben!! Sad that this version of Ben is effectively gone. And the fact he’s this teenager trying to desperately help his family

She really just ate that goldfish

Forgot Reggie was an alien

So Ben “grew up” as a ghost. So not technically a teenager like I thought. How much of that was Klaus projecting I wonder. Also Reggie you suck. Blaming your children for Ben’s death

Thinking about Klaus sobering up in preparation to attempt to summon Ben. And he freaking did!

ALL OF THEM PILING INTO THE CAR. AFTER VIKTOR ASKS THEM TO BE WITH HIM BC HE WANTS HIS FAMILY BY HIS SIDE. AND THEM SAYING NO. ONLY TO CHANGE THEIR MIND STRAIGHT AWAY

Diego blinks with Five. “Five, I think I’m gonna puke” “NO TIME”

DIEGO BENDING THE BULLETS. LUTHER WRAPPING HIS ARMS AROUND ALLISON AND KLAUS. And then wrapping tighter when they realise Viktor’s joining the fight!!!

FIVE PUSHING LUTHER OUT OF THE WAY OF THE BRICKS

Man the sequence where Five rewinds time is so cool

The big grin Luther gives Viktor when he takes the…alien powers?? Away from Harlan

Diego and Viktor sitting together

HAHAHA BIG BROTHER SWEDE JOINED DESTINY’S CHILDREN

EMO BEN!!!!

#the umbrella academy #TUA s2 #rewatch #long post #TUA s2 rewatch #Viktor hargreeves #Luther hargreeves #Allison hargreeves #five hargreeves #Diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #Ben hargreeves #Elliot page #Tom hopper #emmy raver lampman #david castañeda #robert sheehan #aiden gallagher #Justin h min #tv show

[jjacob]

all i want for christmas is you

❝ the school had started to take notice of you. lee juyeon, however, had always noticed. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee juyeon x fem!reader (ft. best friend!lee minho)

GENRES ▸ fluff, high school au, sports au, best friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity but !! lots of !! fluff !! 

SUMMARY ▸ the bet was simple: find a date to the winter ball. the only problem was that juyeon didn’t want just any girl. he wanted you.

PLAYLIST ▸ all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey

WORD COUNT ▸ 5055 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ merry christmas! this is a gift for addy @honeyju​ the biggest juyeon simp ik !! ily addy i am excited/scared/not emotionally ready to read the minho one which ! btw y’all should read here bc our stories are loosely connected! also disclaimer: i know jack shit ab football but i tried

LEE JUYEON TENDED TO REGRET HALF THE THINGS HE SAID SOMETIMES. 

In eighth grade, Juyeon’s sense of humor was largely self-deprecating and consisted of saying he wanted to die at the slightest inconvenience. But, with his spectacular timing, he let the joke slip in front of a teacher once and froze up upon seeing her concerned expression. Juyeon later received a note from the counselor’s office and had to convince them that he was perfectly fine.

In tenth grade, Juyeon had grown past his phase of dark humor and moved onto high school football. He made the cut for the team the previous year, and managed to make it on the varsity team by the time he was a sophomore. In the beginning of the season, they asked who wanted to be captain the next year, and Juyeon boldly declared that he did. Thus, he was ridiculed and sentenced to pick up balls and clean up the gym after every practice from then on.

Now, as a high school junior in the varsity football team, Juyeon had screwed himself over by making a stupid bet with his best friend, Lee Minho.

Lee Minho was, in short, a conniving bastard. Juyeon never should have trusted him and gone along with his antics. The mere thought of what he had gotten himself into was enough to send his heart into overdrive.

The bet sounded simple enough: find a date to the Winter Ball.

Of course, it was easier said than done, but Juyeon was a star athlete and had girls sliding in his DMs left and right. He could easily find a date if he wanted to, and, honestly, Juyeon only needed to send a few texts and he would probably be secured for the dance. The problem was, however, that Juyeon only wanted you.

Minho was well aware of Juyeon’s pitiful, unrequited love towards you. It was probably the reason he suggested the bet; his best friend either wanted to see him miserable or see him score a chance with you. Either way, Juyeon wasn’t sure his heart was ready to shoot his shot.

Juyeon had crushed on you ever since you sat next to him in the seventh grade and let him borrow your pencil. It was such a silly start to his admiration for you, but his feelings grew stronger when the both of you actually became friends. You were so bright when you laughed, so sweet when you spoke, and so adorable when you smiled. Juyeon had never felt this way about anyone else and always got butterflies when he saw you. Juyeon was never one to chase after girls but he would find himself constantly thinking about what you were up to and having several internal dilemmas over whether he should ask you to hang out or not.

Five years later and Juyeon still harbored feelings for you. Now, they had matured into something deeper, but you still racked his brain nevertheless. It didn’t help that you had a major glow-up in high school and were probably the most beautiful person Juyeon had ever seen.

The school started to take notice of you.

Juyeon, on the other hand, had always noticed.

“Are you sure we can finish a medium before practice?” Minho asked Juyeon, setting a box of pizza on the table in front of him. “Also, I saw Y/N by the gym earlier.”

Juyeon perked up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza for himself. “You know what day it is, right?”

Minho took a bite out of his pizza, observing Juyeon with a raised brow. His best friend was on the baseball team but treating themselves to pizza had become a monthly ritual. Despite being on different teams, he was closer to Minho than his football teammates.

“Thursday?”

“And that means?”

Right.

Juyeon had formulated an elaborate plan to ask you out during the football game today, but, of course, it all depended on whether their team won or not. It would have been kind of ridiculous to propose after a loss. On the bright side, he knew he could count on the fact that you’d actually be present considering you were a cheerleader.

But what if you already had a date? You surely hadn’t mentioned it to him or posted about it on social media, so he was riding on an assumption that you haven’t been asked. That was bizarre to Juyeon, though, because you were the prettiest person he had ever seen. However, it was true that you were gradually getting popular, and that made Juyeon a touch nervous.

“I ask her out tomorrow,” Juyeon breathed out. “Am I ready for this?”

Minho scoffed lightly. “Are you ever?”

Juyeon frowned at his best friend, scrunching up his nose at his distasteful comment. “What about you? Have you gotten a date?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Juyeon sighed. That was probably all he would get out of Lee Minho today. Once Minho set his mind on something, he carried it out diligently until the end. Juyeon honestly had no idea who he wanted to bring since Minho didn’t like talking about girls he was interested in, but he supposed it wasn’t that big of a deal as long as his best friend was happy.

It wasn’t like Juyeon was never going to hear about his friend’s endeavors. After all, he did pick up on Minho’s slow descent from an apathetic individual to a whipped ball of fluff. If Juyeon mentioned that to his best friend, however, he would probably be ridiculed for consistently being whipped for you since the seventh grade.

Juyeon nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of his ringer going off. He scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket, ignoring Minho’s teasing smirk at the sight of his frazzled self.

y/n: hey :) i’m gonna drop off some gingerbread cookies my mom made after practice so lmk when i can come over

Juyeon must have saved a country in a past life for this kind of luck.

juyeon: i love your mom’s cookies. you can come over whenever you’d like

y/n: how about we walk home together after practice?

juyeon: sounds good to me

Now, the pizza was starting to make his mouth water, but if you were walking home with him, Juyeon was ready to drop it and run to see you even though he loved pizza. But Juyeon loved you more than he loved pizza, and he believed that was true love.

“She made me cookies,” Juyeon announced.

“She made you cookies,” Minho repeated, leaning forward in surprise.

“Well, her mom did, but yeah.”

Minho turned his attention back to his pizza. “So this is about your mommy kink again.”

“I don’t have a fucking mommy—why would you say that?” Juyeon cried out, kicking his friend’s shin under the table.

“You don’t? Last time I checked, she was making dinner in the kitchen when I came over yesterday.”

“I’m talking about the kink!”

Yet, even a silly back-and-forth with Minho couldn’t get Juyeon down from his high over you. He was still processing the fact that you were going to walk home with him and, if Juyeon played his cards right, maybe he could get a feel of how comfortable you would be if he asked you out during the game tomorrow.

Minho snickered. “You look happy.”

Juyeon couldn’t even mask his lovesick smile and flushed cheeks. He folded his arms on the table in front of him and buried his face in them, his head spinning at the thought of you.

“Shut up, Minho.”

The only problem with you being on the cheerleading team was that you were extremely distracting.

Juyeon was the star quarterback and frankly, it was kind of pathetic that the one thing that kicked him in the ass was seeing you in the knee socks and pom-poms. It didn’t help that you were a flyer so Juyeon’s stomach pitted with anxiety whenever he saw you being thrown up and whenever he heard a scream coming from the direction of the cheerleaders.

Today was different, though. Juyeon could care less about the screams and falls from the corner of the field. All he could think about was you and how he was going to ask you out. If his plan was going to work, it was going to draw a lot of attention and be quite embarrassing if it failed.

All of his confidence got knocked down with a single sweep when he saw someone asked you to the dance.

One of the cheerleaders broke into a fit of giggles at the sight, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god!”

You were frozen stiff, an awkward smile on your face as the guy walked onto the field with a sign and about a dozen roses. Juyeon could feel his heart sinking to the ground with each step the guy took, with each second his smile grew brighter.

“Is he seriously confessing during practice?” Sohn Youngjae asked, brows furrowed as he rested his arm on Juyeon’s shoulder. “That’s real brave.”

“What’s his deal doing it here? He isn’t even on the team,” Juyeon said, coming off more bitter than he had expected.

Younghoon scoffed. “It’s a bold move. He must be confident that Y/N’s going to say yes.”

Juyeon squared his shoulders. He was conflicted with the swell of anger and deflation of you possibly being taken, but nevertheless, all he could do was watch helplessly as you were being asked out. From where they were on the field, Juyeon couldn’t hear much, but he could see your reactions quite well. The wolf-whistles and cheers were pissing him off, but he was fixed on you.

He turned to look towards Minho, who was practicing on the field adjacent to theirs. His best friend met his gaze immediately like they had some form of exclusive telepathic communication. Minho nodded towards you and raised a brow, as if nudging Juyeon to go interrupt them. That, however, was something he was far too cowardly to bring himself to do.

Your voice resounded clearer than Juyeon had expected.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized sincerely, ducking your head and keeping your hands entwined behind you. “I’m not interested, but I do appreciate the gesture.”

Juyeon felt a weight lift off of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve felt relieved that you shot him down or nervous that you rejected an attractive, confident guy who clearly liked you. However, he soon had no time to mull over that when the guy’s reaction was getting more aggressive than crestfallen.

“Y/N, I asked you out in front of all these people,” he said with a distasteful laugh. “Are you seriously rejecting me right now?”

“Sorry, I just don’t want to go with you,” you replied firmly, voice dropping as you became more conscious of your surroundings. “I’m sorry it had to be public but you didn’t really give me a choice.”

For a split second, Juyeon wondered how he could still hear you when you were practically muttering at this point, and then he realized that he started walking to you without even realizing. His feet carried him unknowingly, hand balled at his side and eyes stony and trained on the guy.

“You could’ve just accepted it and told me later that you didn’t want to go with me,” he said with a scoff. “It’s like you enjoy humiliating others publicly.”

Your teammates rushed forward to argue and fend him off while you opened your mouth to protest, but Juyeon was faster, moving in front of you so he was head-to-head with the guy.

“She said she’s not interested,” he said with a threatening undertone, wondering where he managed to muster up the courage to be this assertive.

You were visibly shocked by Juyeon’s actions, and he couldn’t even blame you because he was equally just as surprised as you were. Yet, all he could do was glare daggers down at the other guy with steely eyes and frown until he backed off.

“Thanks,” you said softly once the guy had left.

Juyeon was flustered by all the girls giggling behind you but was amazed by how cool and collected you remained despite that. He turned to you, eyes softening and shoulders relaxing. He knew he was getting an earful about this from his teammates after practice and most definitely from Minho as well.

“No problem,” Juyeon replied, cheeks red. “He was bothering you. I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“That was really sweet of you, Juyeon.” You bit back a smile and suggested, “Meet you at the front gates after practice?”

“See you then.”

Even though Juyeon could’ve spent the rest of practice talking to you, he sprinted back as fast as he could because his cheeks were only getting redder as the cheerleaders gushed about what he did for you. He could hear their gossip and whispering even as he was running back to his team. Juyeon was positive he wouldn’t escape the embarrassment, though, because Lee Jaehyun was smirking at him when he got back.

“You’re blushing, dude.”

Juyeon shoved him.

There was a universal law that was newly decreed. It read: Lee Minho shall never text, call, or speak to Lee Juyeon whenever Y/N was around.

The reason for that being the fact that Juyeon was easily embarrassed and Minho’s texts were not helping his case. He felt it was rude enough to check his phone while he was walking with you, but every time he saw a notification flash, his eyes widened with sheer distress over Minho’s texts.

minho: like three people asked me if you and y/n are fucking bc of what you pulled during practice today

minho: wait are y’all fucking and just not telling me

minho: i knew it was sus that she was coming over to your house

juyeon: fake news!! stop making me feel shy :(

Juyeon decided he had enough Lee Minho for today and turned off his phone.

“That was honestly the coolest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” you gushed to Juyeon as you walked home with him, fingers looped around the straps of your backpack. “Way cooler than you punting footballs.”

“No need to flatter me,” Juyeon replied coolly but his shy smile and red-tipped ears said otherwise. “That guy was being unnecessarily aggressive.”

“His proposal was out of nowhere!” you exclaimed. “I don’t get what he expected me to do.”

Juyeon smiled through the pain. Lord, give me strength, he prayed to whatever divine power was out there.

“Are you not interested in having a date to the dance then?” Juyeon asked, looking down at you curiously.

You paused for a moment and Juyeon thought his heart would stop in anticipation for your answer. Come to think of it, he had never seen you go to a school dance with a date before. You were always with your friend group. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see you stick with them, but Juyeon was hoping he could change that.

“Well,” you started, “if the right person asked me then I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Juyeon couldn’t exactly read your smile but it made him want to faint. The rest of the walk back home was spent talking about school and football, but Juyeon couldn’t get your answer to his question out of his head. He even walked past his house because his head was so full of you, resulting in you needing to stop him and tell him that they had already reached his place.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Juyeon’s mom chirped with a good-natured smile. “How has your mom been?”

Juyeon’s eyes widened upon the realization that they never stopped by at your place first to get the cookies. He opened his mouth to interject but you went on to answer.

“She’s been great, Mrs. Lee,” you replied, smiling just as big, and pulled out a box of cookies from your bag. “She wanted me to give these to you.”

“That’s so sweet! Give her my thanks,” his mom replied and opened the door wider once she accepted the cookies. “Come in for some tea, will you?”

Juyeon was practically frozen at the doorway while you were taking off your shoes and walking inside. If you had the cookies with you this entire time, then why didn’t you just give them to him to take home himself? Unless you were worried about the courtesy, it was a bit out of your way to take the time to walk home with Juyeon to deliver them.

“Juyeon, what are you doing out there?” his mom asked. “Come inside. It’s cold.”

“Right.”

Having you over at his house wasn’t exactly the sparkly fantasy that Juyeon thought it would be.

He was getting quite jealous of your mom hogging all of your attention. It wasn’t like you and Juyeon drifted apart during high school, so he wasn’t sure why his mom had to pull you away from him and have her own conversation with you. The worst part was that Juyeon couldn’t even join in on the conversation. He had no idea what they were even talking about.

That is, until his mom brought up the dance.

“Do you have a date, Y/N?” Juyeon’s mom asked.

“I don’t,” she replied. “I usually just go with my friends.”

“You’re so pretty, though,” Mrs. Lee tutted. “I’m sure someone must’ve asked you out.”

“Actually, someone asked me today,” you said. There was a moment of silence as you looked over at Juyeon while his gaze bore into yours. For a moment, you were struggling for what to say, mouthing words that weren’t being processed. Juyeon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly once you regained your composure. “Juyeon actually helped me out.”

Mrs. Lee straightened up. “My son did?” She looked amused as she turned to Juyeon.

“Yeah,” you answered, grinning. “He was really cool.”

Juyeon blushed darkly once their eyes were on him. “W-what? I couldn’t ignore it. I wasn’t even doing that much. I was just helping out. You know, being a decent person,” he rambled and stood up. “Anyways, isn’t it getting late? Mom, Y/N has to go home soon and it’s gonna be pitch black outside if you keep her here.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Mrs. Lee frowned as she peered out the window. “Juyeon, you walk her home then.”

“What?” he sputtered out, looking between you and his mom before he caved, muttering, “I’ll go get my jacket.”

After an exchange of goodbyes, you had stepped out of the house and waited while Juyeon was slipping his shoes on. There was a moment of struggle where he had tied his laces too tight and couldn’t get the shoe on but he managed to slip it on after a few seconds of internal screaming. Juyeon zipped up his jacket the moment he stepped outside, the brisk coldness making his goosebumps rise.

“You really don’t have to walk me back,” you told Juyeon. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s really late,” Juyeon replied, rubbing his hands together in hopes that the friction would provide some heat. “You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself, and I really don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, ducking your face. “For this, for what you did during practice—everything.”

Juyeon was glad that you weren’t looking at him because his mouth was opening and closing over and over again like a fish. He was also thankful for the fact that he could blame the dust of pink across his cheeks on the cold winter bite. Unfortunately, you lived close by so Juyeon didn’t have time to come up with a cool response and he didn’t want to leave things like this. There was a good vibe going on and he was upset that he couldn’t act upon it; when it came to you, Lee Juyeon was a coward.

“Um, we’re here so…” Juyeon trailed off when he turned to you, sort of thrown off by how beautiful you looked with your windswept hair and flushed cheeks. Dazed, he reached forward and moved a strand of your hair out of your face. “It’s good I walked you home and you’re not like, lost or… something—I’ll shut up now.”

You laughed, and it was an octave higher as if you were rattled from him touching your hair. “Ah, yes, a few streets down can be a harrowing trek.”

Juyeon laughed with you before his eyes settled on you. Your hands were crossed, rubbing your arms that were prickled with goosebumps. A wave of guilt washed through Juyeon and led him to strip his jacket off immediately. He ignored the piercing chill and put his jacket around your shoulders, making sure they covered your bare arms.

“My house is right here,” you argued. “You’re going to be cold.”

“Keep it on. I have something to tell you after the game,” Juyeon said firmly. It was his second burst of courage for you today and he was a little too amped up for his own good. “If you don’t like it then give me back my jacket tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, Juyeon turned on his heel and bolted home, the biggest grin across his face because he was head-over-heels for you.

Juyeon had never been so nervous in his life.

The game was underway, Juyeon’s leg bouncing as he eyeballed the scoreboard. His team was strong in the first two quarters, cutting it close by the third, but now they were neck-to-neck. They had ended with a tie and now they decided to go into overtime for the sake of choosing a winner for the game. It was a sudden death round so whoever scored first would win the game. Juyeon, however, found it difficult to concentrate.

Especially with Lee Minho breathing down his back.

“Are you ready?” his best friend asked.

“Yes—well, no, but I don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s true.”

“I already made the sign and told the team and everything,” Juyeon whined. “I really screwed myself over, Minho.”

Minho pushed at the back of his head. “Dude, I’m talking about the game.”

“Oh, that—that’s fine,” Juyeon stammered. “Fifteen minutes—we just have to win, and then I have to ask out the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“You could chicken out,” Minho suggested, “but that also comes with me never letting you live it down.”

“You see, I kind of already implied that I’m going to tell her something important.”

“You did?” Minho’s voice was somewhere between shocked and impressed.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Juyeon muttered, pushing himself off the bench. “Keep the poster safe for me!”

“Good luck, champ!”

Juyeon, sweaty and bangs sticking to his forehead, had to ignore every distraction and think about winning the game before his stomach threw itself into a pool of anxiety over asking you out. He got in a huddle with his team in the remaining fifteen seconds they had before they had to get in formation and lowered the facemask of his helmet. It was up to this one last play to determine whether they would win the game or not.

“Just like we practiced, alright?” Juyeon told them. “Double-wing power pass. We get them to bite thinking it’s a run play and then open up a passing lane.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Jaehyun cheered, and the rest of them put in their mouth guards and lowered their facemasks.

Juyeon took a shaky breath as he got in formation at the line of scrimmage. His heart was racing but he wasn’t sure it was about the game. Nevertheless, he steeled his nerves and held his ground. The whistle blew and the crowd was silent, observing the tension on the field carefully.

“Silver-80! Silver-80! Hut! Hut! Hike!” Juyeon yelled, and the center, Sangyeon, snapped the ball to him.

Juyeon faked a handoff to Jaehyun, the fullback, and spun around, rolling to his right. Changmin sped up in front of Juyeon to defend him. A smile tugged at Juyeon’s lips. Their plan was working just as he intended, but there was a problem: they couldn’t open up a passing lane for the running backs like he thought they would. The play was too rushed, so it wasn’t ever a guarantee.

So Juyeon had to do what he would normally deem crazy.

He spun at the sight of the other team coming to tackle him and skirted around the field, belting down the field. He dodged past another linebacker that tried to body him. His primary motivation was that he didn’t want a concussion before he confessed to you, but he assumed it was okay to admit that to himself as long as he didn’t throw the game.

Juyeon felt a hand grab him but he pushed forward, running across the goal line and into the end zone. He threw the ball down and cried out in joy as he scored a touchdown. The whistle blew and the scoreboard flipped. They won.

He did it.

Juyeon’s team ran to him, cheering at the top of their lungs. He was lifted up on Jaehyun and Younghoon’s shoulders, grinning happily before his heart sunk back down. The cheerleaders ran to the field, cheering and tossing their pom poms up. The crowd was roaring. Juyeon was realizing that he had to do the scariest thing that a heterosexual teenage boy ever had to experience.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” Juyeon tapped his shoulder quickly. “We have no time. I have to do it now.”

“Oh shit.”

Jaehyun and Younghoon dropped Juyeon onto the turf. Juyeon winced at the sudden impact, gathering himself back to his feet and hoping you didn’t witness that. Jaehyun gave him a half-assed apology and pushed him forward to run and get his poster and flowers from Minho. Jaehyun then grabbed Changmin by the shoulders, urging him to go to the announcer’s booth.

Juyeon sprinted over to Minho, waving his hands dramatically. “Give, give, give,” he demanded amongst all the cheering.

Minho didn’t waste any time and pushed the poster and bouquet into Juyeon’s hands. “Break a leg, tiger.”

“Trust me, I nearly did.”

Juyeon jogged back onto the field, cheeks hot and head a little dizzy for what was about to come. He didn’t even tell his mom he was going to ask you out and she had to watch her son ask his best friend out to the dance. This was probably going to be a moment of utter humiliation but once Juyeon saw you in your high ponytail with a bright smile on your face, all that fear faded away and it was just you and him.

More importantly, you were wearing his jacket over your uniform and Juyeon felt like he was going to combust from the cuteness.

“Guys, guys,” Jaehyun called to the team. “Surround Juyeon. Make sure Y/N doesn’t see him.”

Juyeon’s heart was beating a hundred miles per second. He was glad he was running on the adrenaline from winning the game because otherwise, he would be cowering in fear and sweating buckets right now.

“Everyone, listen up!” Changmin spoke over the intercom. “First of all, the football team scored a major dub today—ow! Sunwoo, cut it out—alright, I’ll get to it!” Changmin broke from the mic and started bickering with Sunwoo.

There was a pause, and Juyeon was surprised to hear Minho’s voice fill the speakers, “Anyways, my buddy and our star quarterback, Juyeon, has something to say for a special someone.”

The crowd fell silent, a couple cheers and wolf-whistles as it was pretty obvious that a confession was about to happen.

“This is so fucking fluffy,” Sunwoo mumbled.

“Shut up, Sunwoo,” Juyeon replied, nudging him with his elbow.

The football team moved out of the way so that they weren’t huddled around Juyeon anymore. Juyeon’s breath caught in his throat as he walked forward to the middle of the field, holding up his sign, reading: Will you be my sunshine?

“Y/N,” he called out loudly, “honestly this confession is long overdue, but will you go to Winter Ball with me tonight and be my sunshine?”

The crowd started cheering and whistling again, and Juyeon wanted to die. She hadn’t even given him her answer yet and everyone was acting like she had agreed and they eloped. The cheerleaders pushed Y/N forward and she approached Juyeon, looking like a deer in headlights.

Juyeon took another shaky breath and continued, “I’ve been in love with you for so long so it would be an honor if I could take you to the dance,” he said and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you.”

You bit your lip but that wasn’t enough to contain the happiness that showed on your face. You zipped up Juyeon’s jacket and threw yourself into his arms. Everyone practically exploded but Juyeon was sure his heartbeat was louder. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

Was this what people called a Christmas miracle?

“Oh shit!” Changmin screamed over the intercom. (“Shut up, they’re having a moment,” Minho’s faint voice was picked up in the background).

“Oh my god, you just made me the happiest man alive,” he mumbled.

You pulled back and reached forward to move his damp bangs off of his forehead. “Took you long enough.”

“Wait, did you—did you like me?” Juyeon choked out.

You laughed and cupped his face in your hands. There was a shaky inhale and exhale of breaths when his lips brushed against yours, and Juyeon closed the distance, kissing you like he was starved of your touch. His hold tightened on you as you melted into him, and then you both pulled away, smiling and dazed and lovesick.

You giggled. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, grinning as he brushed his nose against yours.

Juyeon could care less about all the presents and holiday cheer because he had you and you were all he wanted.

#the boyz scenarios #juyeon scenarios #tbz scenarios #juyeon x reader #juyeon fluff #tbz fluff #the boyz fluff #lee juyeon #juyeon imagines #juyeon blurbs #juyeon oneshots #juyeon fanfic #tbz imagines #tbz blurbs #tbz oneshots #tbz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz blurbs #the boyz oneshots #the boyz fanfic #lee juyeon x reader #tbz soft hours #the boyz soft hours #juyeon soft hours

[king-star]

hii! can you please make a natasha x reader fic where they both have been dating for a while and it's natasha's birthday and the reader surprises her with a brand new suit that she made herself and nat cries bc she never got a meaningful gift and the reader also surprises her with cake and more romantic gifts. you could make the reader tony's sister so it would make more sense that she's good at making suits but you don't have to!! thank you sm i need sum cute natty 😫

Birthday Suit

Warning: Use of the pet name Sunflower,

Match: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff

A/N: So this one was fun. I hate my birthday but this actually was cute. I’m trying a new way of presenting the dialogue. aesthetically it looks better but I’m not sure how it reads. I've seen other authors do the dialogue on completely seperate lines so just lmk if this is good.

Word Count: ~2.5 k

Summary: It’s Natasha's birthday, and despite her acting like she hates it you shower her with love.

The smell of cooking cake fills the compound. Even from the workshop, where you are, the sweet scent permeates the air. You have been baking for long enough to know what that smell means, the cake is almost done.

You check the clock on the wall. 2:44. Nat would be home at 5.

“Shit. I need to get this done,”

You shake your head and set down your wire cutters. The list of everything you need to get done before she arrives rolls through your mind.

It was her birthday. She didn’t know her actual birthday so years ago she made one up. The chosen date was a closely guarded secret she only shared with those she trusted most. For the most part the assassin didn’t even celebrate. When you had asked a week prior what she wanted to do she had brushed you off claiming,

“I don’t really care. As long as I get to be with my love.”

She had kissed you, hoping the kiss would fog your mind from any further planning. Unfortunately for her you were a big schemer, always going as big as you could for your friend’s birthdays.

You walked out of the workshop, making one last longing look at her unfinished gift on your messy work table. No one was around today. The one Saturday everyone had off a month. Natasha had gone shopping with Wanda, a plan conncocted to give you plenty of time to get everything ready.

“Friday do you mind turing the oven off?”

you asked the A.I. as you headed down the hallway.

“Of course Agent Y/L/N,”

entering the kitchen you picked up a discarded list of everything that needed to be done. Two items were crossed off “Bake the cake, movie fort.” The unmarked items looked at you teasingly and you felt anxiety rise in your chest. What if you didn’t get everything done and this birthday made Natasha hate birthdays even more? You shook your head trying to chase off the thoughts and went to the oven.

“One perfectly baked chocolate cake coming up,”

grabbing an oven mitt you pulled the cake out of the oven and placed it on the counter. Carefully you coerced the cake from the pan and set it on the cooling rack.

Back when Wanda and you ventured into the baking realm you had begged Tony to put in a floor to ceiling blast chiller. The kind that was always on baking competitions. He reluctantly agreed, with the price of always having to give him a taste of your creations. The freezer was immensely helpful in tight circumstances. You were more than grateful for it now.

You set your cake into the freezer and went to the pantry to pull out all the ingredients you needed for icing. You poured the powdered sugar and placed the butter into the bowl. When you turned on the mixer a cloud of sugary powder exploded in the kitchen. You blinked and licked your lips. Bringing a hand up to wipe your face, you laughed hard. Sugar covered the entire counter and floor beneath you, not to mention your already grease stained clothes.

“Wow, is my little sibling doing coke in here? And without me!”

a snarky voice sounded from across the room. You opened your eyes and squinted at your older brother with a scrunched nose.

“Can it Tony,”

You growled, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off the counter. Tony laughed at you and opened the freezer to look at what sweet treats awaited him tonight.

“A cake? Are we celebrating?”

He laughed and made a teasing face. You rolled your eyes and called out to Friday.

“Can you order me four containers of icing from the store to be delivered?”

“You got it!”

her chipper accented voice came over the audio. You threw the towel in the sink and landed a punch in Tony’s arm as you left to go change.

“You better not eat any of that cake until Nat has had at least one slice. I know where you keep those rare magic cards you think no one knows about and I will not hesitate to cut them all in half,”

He looked at you in shock. Whether it was because you knew about the secret stash or because you would dare cut them you weren’t sure. The only way to get Tony mad was to go for something he couldn’t replace with money.

“YOU WOULDN'T FUCKING DARE,”

You run away as he climbs out of his chair and chases after you. You run into your room and lay on the door to push back a Tony who was only a few steps behind you. When you finally force the door into the frame you turn the lock and fall to the floor laughing.

Angry mumbling came from the other side. Tony pounded on the door twice before, defeated. walking away. After catching your breath you pulled your sugar stained clothes off and changed into the outfit you’d set aside that morning.

“Y/N the man just arrived with the icing,”

Friday called out to your room and you nodded.

“Thank you Friday. Have him set the bags in the kitchen,”

Friday hummed in agreement. You stood up and looked in the mirror checking yourself out. When you were satisfied with the look you unlocked the door and turned to the right. You really needed to finish Natasha’s present. You wouldn’t even have time to test it properly. You really hoped the phrase “it’s the thought that counts,” was true. Her gift could be something that got you endless kisses or a real crash and burn.

Making it to the lab you set your hand on your head and groaned. You really hoped it worked. It was so pretty. You grabbed the wrapping paper and box and set it in with a kiss.

“Natty, I hope you like it,”

The gift finished the fort built, and cake baked, there was only one thing left to do, ice the damn cake. You could bake sure, but only Wanda ever mastered the art of making it look beautiful.

When you made it to the kitchen Tony was nowhere in sight and a plastic bag with what you assumed was icing was set on the counter. You pulled out a butter knife and dug in, hoping this looked somewhat edible. Wanda was the one who was skilled at decorating. You could make the elaborate pastry chef treats, but you could never handle the finer details of making it look pretty.

~

You were in the workshop when Friday alerted you that Wanda and Natasha were home. A feeling similar to anxiety or excitement fluttered in your chest. This was the first time you’d celebrated her birthday with your girlfriend. You wanted her to like birthdays again. To feel as special and loved as you can pour out for her.

“Thank you Friday. Please tell them I’m in the workshop and will be heading to the game room shortly,”

You set down the gauntlet you’d been fixing while waiting for them and brushed off your outfit. Your eyes searched over the shirt for stains, and when you were satisfied you were clean you headed to your “party”.

Wanda was the first to come in. She threw her hands to her face and “oood” and “aweeed” over the spread you had out.

“Y/N your cake! it’s…. adorable,”

you punched her in the shoulder with a frown. She fell over laughing.

“I TRIED! and I’m sure it tastes amazing.”

you crossed your arms and pouted. She sat back up still laughing and patted your back.

“She’ll love it Y/N. Even if it had ‘fuck you Nat’ written on top she’d love it,”

you smiled at the complement and stopped pouting. You were explaining the technology behind Nat’s present when the woman of the hour finally walked in.

“What is all this? Are y’all having a party? and didn’t invite me,”

she sat down next to you intertwining your fingers with hers and kissing your shoulder. You smiled as the excitement anxiety mix returned.

“Actually…. it’s for you,”

You smiled and kissed her hands. She looked genuinely surprised. You really hoped the feeling was happy excitement.

“oh- Y/N y-you remembered? and you didn’t have to do any of this. I thought I told you i didn’t care to celebrate,”

you felt Wanda stand up to leave with a pat on your shoulder. You smiled up at her and turned back to Natasha.

“I know I know, but I wanted to do something special. You love me so well and work so hard all the time. You deserve a day that’s unapologetically about you,”

You knew if Natasha didn’t have such complete control of her emotions she would be crying. The agape mouth gave that away. You smiled and leaned forward pulling her into a deep, intimate kiss. Feeling her smile against your lips you pulled away and leaned your forehead against hers.

“I love you Natashka. I will do anything to make you feel like Queen of the world,”

with that she started crying. You frowned and wiped away the tears.

“I really hope those are happy tears,”

she nodded quickly and smiled, sniffling a little.

“Very very happy tears. happy ‘I don’t know what on Earth i did to deserve you’ tears,”

“It is I who does not deserve you. The Great Black Widow. I’m just here to make you smile, it’s my life goal,”

you bowed as much as you could sitting down. Placing a peck on her lips you turned back to the presents and pointed.

“Which one should we open first?”

she pondered and then picked up a small box. Nimble fingers unwrapped the box and pulled out a Ring. You had managed to get her size weeks earlier fitting one of your own on her finger when hanging out. She looked at the little silver band with a carved sunflower at the head. A smile bloomed across her face and she hugged you.

“Oh my goodness Y/N, it’s so pretty…,”

she slid it onto her fingers, finding the one it fit best and stared at it. You hugged her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“Well, you are my sunflower. It’s just a reminder when we are away,”

Her eyes lit up at the nickname. It wasn’t as common for you to use it as baby or sweetheart, but sunflower had always been her favourite.

She looked at the other boxes realising they were also for her. You picked up the next box, a medium sized one and handed it to her. You were saving the biggest for last.

She was just in awe and set it down before unwrapping it. Her hands snaked around your waist and pulled you flush to her. Her soft lips pressed kisses to your jaw and she set her head on your shoulder.

“Thank you so much Y/N, I- no one has done something like this for me ever,”

She hugged you tight again and then let go picking back up the present. You nodded and kissed her head. Pushing some hair out of her face you stroked her hair softly. Her hands once again unwrapped the gift. She squeaked at the sight of the book underneath the paper.

Natasha never got to read much on her own accord growing up. The red room picked out books for her education but never anything she would actually enjoy. Long ago Natasha had told you the first book she read after getting out of the red room was Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and since then she adored the book. You had found, and paid for with Tony’s credit card, a first edition of the book. The auction was rough but you needed that book for Natasha.

Natasha stared at the book once, again jaw hanging open. She wiped her hands on her pants before handingly the book with utmost care. She flipped it over and ran her fingertips over the indented letters and gold illustration on the front.

“Y-you like it? I know you said you like Alice in Wonderland. It’s uh… actually a first edition copy. Tony was about ready to kill me when he saw me pay for the bid,”

You laughed nervously. She turned the book around again and then set it on the coffee table. She tackled you and pushed you back on the couch kissing all over your face. You yelped in surprise then grabbed her hips, catching her lips and kissing her roughly. She melted into the kiss but you pulled away.

“As much as I love this Natty, let’s open your last gift and eat some cake,”

You sat up and pulled her so she was in your lap. You placed a soft kiss to the back of her neck as she reached for the last gift. It was heavy but the assassin had no trouble lifting it.

“After that we can makeout in the fort I made. yeah?”

You wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her close to you, rubbing circles on her thigh. She laughed and nodded, blushing profusely.

“I like that idea Y/N,”

She opened the box and pulled out the gift you put months of effort into. This time her reaction wasn’t as instantaneous. You helped her pull all the pieces out and set it on the coffee table. She looked at it slightly perplexed.

“I’m sorry… I’m not exactly sure what it is,”

She pouted and looked at you. You smiled and nodded knowing she wouldn’t. You set it out so she could see all the parts.

“Well… uh it’s a new suit. You always say that you don’t like how tight and revealing your other ones are so I kinda beefed this one up so it focuses on functionality,”

She nodded along as you explained. A look of understanding crossed her face as she pulled at the sleeves.

“ohhhhhhhh. That makes so much sense. I- Y/N what the fuck. I can’t express it enough. You are the best, you listened to me and used it to give me the best gifts i’ve ever gotten. You are the most thoughtful partner,”

You beamed. The feeling you knew she was struggling to express, it was exactly what you’d wanted her to feel. Loved, heard, appreciated, and cared for.

“I’m glad sunflower. That’s what I wanted. To make you feel as good as you deserve. D-do you mind if I tell you a bit about the features? I didn’t have time to test some of them so I will need to do that before you take it into combat,”

She nodded and slid off your lap to look at you. You patted her legs and squeezed then held at the sleeve first.

“Well of course it wouldn’t be a suit for the Black widow without gauntlets. These can change through three different modes for different levels and types of stuns also a laser if you need that for aiming,”

You flipped on the laser and pointed it at a pot then turned it back off.

“Also I made it so the suit can suction to your body but be limp to put it on. a lot easier to slip on ya know. And there is mobile but thick padding on all major points of contact for falling. Shoulders, hips, elbows, knees, the like.”

Natasha ran her hands over the surprisingly thin padding and smiled.

“Wow baby that’s… amazing,”

You nodded and picked up the bag attached to the back.

“And uh there’s a parachute built in as well as pockets up the legs, arms and boots so you don’t have to have the belts. They are sorta magnetic so you can like open them easily but when they are closed everything stays in. OH AND THE BOOTS,”

You started to ramble on about the energy absorbing boots you worked with Shuri on that would allow Nat to drop from double the height of a normal human with no damage to her knees or feet. Nat just stared at you hungirly.

“Hey baby, I seriously appreciate the gift. It’s honestly the best thing I've ever gotten. Why don’t we try it out tomorrow and you can show me EVERYTHING. For now we can… sit in the fort like you said,”

She had a cocky smile and you blushed at her antics. You nodded quickly, cutting off your rambling. Her hands found your waist and she pulled you off the couch and into the pillow fort you had built.

“I uh- got a movie for us to watch. Do you want to?”

She nodded and smiled. A look that very much meant “Yes. That's sweet, but I doubt we will be watching it.” You pulled her into your lap, setting your hands on her waist. She draped hers over your shoulders and rubbed light circles on the back of your neck. You leaned forward and trapped her lips in a kiss. Soft but full of passion.

The rest of that night was spent watching the movie and kissing. When you finally remembered the cake a slice had been taken out of it, with

“You were busy with Romanoff so I took what I was owed. The package has been moved, try getting me now little sibling.”

On a sticky note beside it. Natasha had laughed, unsure exactly what had happened but sure it was a story she would much enjoy hearing.

She had moaned over how good the cake was after laughing at how “Adorably” it was decorated.

“So Nat… did I make this birthday worth celebrating?”

She smiled wide and nodded.

“Yes Y/N, if every birthday was like this I would never want to stop celebrating.”

Tag List:

@xburningbluex @zoeyserpentluck @iamgaiiiuwu @natasharomanoffswife @fleurlovesbucky @fayhar @ymzki-haruki @lostandsearching

Natasha Tag list:

@basiclesbianbitch @stephanieromanoff @sapphicshots @madamevirgo @choni-trimberly@wlwlovesreading @i-just-like-storage @screamsin-gay @ymzki-haruki

#black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #natasha romanoff #black widow fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #avengers #mcu #marvel #my fic #king-star

[movedbl0g]

Skz reacting to you being sick

A/N: I’m actually kinda sick right now (it’s just a cold so I’m still good) and this idea popped up in my head ~ i hope you guys like it!!

Genre: fluff

Warnings: sickness, slight swearing(only once)

————gifs belong to their original owners————

Chan:

We all know that he takes care of other ppl VERY well

I feel like he would check up on you frequently and bringing you the stuff you need

Would not leave your side, would try to comfort you in every way possible

“Y/n??”, Chan called through the apartment after he opened the door and saw that all the lights were turned off. He walked further into the apartment looking around , but there was no sign of you.

When he finally opened your bedroom door he saw you laying in your bed, covered in blankets with a pile of tissues besides you. As you noticed his presence,you gave him a weak smile that was probably not even visible due to the dim lights.

“Are you okay??”, Chan asked, sitting down on your bed and giving you a little kiss on the forehead. You just shook your head no while you clinged on Chan, in which he responded with a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you into his lap.

He just held you for a while,his hands sliding through your hair and light kisses in your forehead from time to time.

“Do you need me to get you anything??Should i get some meds??”, he asked after a while but you just held him closer.

“No,don’t worry,cuddles are enough for now”

Lee Know:

He would try to cheer you up and distract you from your suffering fhchrhdh

He would cook some comforting food like soup for you

We would insist on doing everything thing for you so you can take proper rest

You just texted him that you couldn’t make it to your date today because you weren’t feeling that well and now, ten minutes later he already stood at your door step, a bag of groceries in his left hand and a bag with different medications in the other.

“What are you doing here lino and what’s all that stuff for??” You asked as soon as you opened the door and got a sight of him being packed with stuff.

“I didn’t know what you needed so i brought all different kinds of medications and since i already was about to come over i also thought that i can cook something for you so you can take proper rest”, he started talking with a pout on his lips.

As he started cooking you tried to help him but he immediately scolded you, saying that you shouldn’t spread all of your germs around and should rest on the couch instead while he will cook for you.

(Small time skip)

“This soup was amazing lino!! i already feel way better now and i can help you clean the kitchen-“

“No you’re not doing anything but rest, you’re sick baby!!”

Changbin:

I feel like he would give you A LOT of cuddles to make you feel better

Would try to make you laugh and lift your mood

But would also give you the rest you need

you couldn’t really sleep last night due to your horrible headache, that wouldn’t get better even tho you took several painkillers and tried to avoid anything that’s bright,it just wouldn’t get better.

When Changbin visited you after he was done with practicing for the day and turned on the lights, you immediately responded with a groan, causing him to immediately turn off the lights again while giving you a worried look.

„What’s wrong honey??“, he asked while walking up to,laying himself on the bed right next to you, immediately wrapping his arms around and holding you against his chest.

“I’m not feeling that well and i think I’m really hot...i should probably check my temperature...” you said while nuzzling your head into Changbins chest. “But honey”, he chuckled, “you’re always hot”

You playfully slapped him as response, making him ruffle through your hair so it looks all messy and it eventually turned until a play fight, until you held your head,mimicking that it hurts a lot.

Changbin immediately stopped and laid you down in the bed again, tucking you under the blanket,giving you one small kiss on the forehead, saying that you should rest now before he left the room.

Hyunjin:

So we all know how dramatic he is

So i can definitely imagine him running around and screaming after telling him you’re sick

He would keep his distance so he doesn’t get sick too but would still take care of you really well

Would order your favorite food and watch a movie with you (plus he probably would give in to cuddles after a while too)

“WHAT”, he yelled out dramatically, eyes and mouth wide opened. “WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME THAT YOU HAVE A COLD WHAT IF I GET SICK AND-“

“Hyunjin, calm down it’s just a light cold and it’s almost gone again-“ you tried to calm him down, reaching out for his hand. “Ahhh don’t touch me- all of your germs are on my hand now-“ he dramatically said while walking away from you, shaking his hands as if it would shake of any germs.

You rolled your eyes,seeing Hyunjin running out if the room completely panicked and at this point you couldn’t even tell if he was teasing you or if he was serious.

He didn’t return for a quite long time, you got a little bit suspicious, but after a few more minutes,he returned with a grin on his face.

“I thought you died because you drank hand sanitizer or something to get rid of the germs-“ you teased him, cocking up your eyebrows while looking at him.

“Not that buuuutttt”, he then replied, a smirk appearing on his face,” i ordered your favorite take out food and I’m willing to watch a movie to you, but only with a safe distance,okay”

“Thank you babe”, you smiled at him and blew him a kiss afterwards “but are you sure that you don’t wanna cuddle??”

Jisung:

I feel like he’d be really panicked at first

“are you sure that you’re okay??do you need any meds??maybe you should go to the doctor i can-“

After making sure that you’re not dying, he’d make sure to give you a lot of cuddles and kisses (but only on the cheek/jawline/forehead kisses)

Jisung was completely freaked out when he say you sitting in the couch, wrapped up in thousands of blankets, tons of used tissues laying around you and your face red from the fever you were having.

He immediately dropped all of his bags, running up to you grabbing your hands full in panic, looking you in the eyes like your about to die.

“Are you okay??”, he asked with big eyes squeezing your hands.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little cold”, you said in a raspy voice, forcing yourself to give him a little smile.

“Are you sure your not dying??” he continued asking, his face expressions more serious that ever “or do you need any meds?? I can get some for you if you want...and you really don’t wanna go to the doctor...i mean you can go just to be sure....wait I’ll make you some tea, i’ll be right back”

You tried to calm him down a bit,but he already disappeared in the kitchen,coming back minutes later with a huge can of tea.

“And just to make sure that you’re not dying,i guess i have to pepper you with kisses babe”

Felix:

CUDDLEBUG

would not let you out of his embrace

would probably bake some brownies for you because he knows you live them while you sleep

he would just be so sweet and caring in general my heart is melting if i just think abt it ahhhh

You were waking up in Felix’s arms,your head pressed against his chest and his lips resting next to your forehead. As you slowly woke up, you felt a horrible pain in your throat and you noticed that you could barely breathe through your nose.

“Baby?”, you whispered to him,getting a hum as reaponse. “I don’t feel that well, i think I’m going to get sick” you said, feeling him shuffle away a little bit to take a look at your face.

“You really look a little bit sick” he said, his eyes carefully scanning your face. “Do you need any meds or should we go to the doctors?”, he carefully asked while his eyes came back ti yours, making eye contact.

“No i think it’s not that bad,but i like that you’re really warm”, you told him while coming closer to his chest again, the warmth of his embrace sending shivers down your spine. He immediately held you closer, his long arms wrapping around you and carefully drawing circles on your beg,until you drifted of to sleep.

When you woke up it was way brighter,so you probably slept for a few hours. When you noticed that Felix was gone, you let out a small cry, but you immediately got distracted by the smell of fresh brownies.

Just now the door opened,Felix walking in with a cup of hit chocolate in his one hand and a plate with a brownie in the other.

“Here, to make you feel a little bit better” he said while handing you the plate and a fork, giving you a huge smile.

Seungmin:

I feel like he would be similar to Changbin

We would look super concerned at you with his puppy dog eyes

Would try to make you laugh with corny jokes

CUDDELS

You told Seungmin that you were sick before he came over,warning him from yourself, but when he came over and actually saw how sick you looked with glassy eyes, a red,runny nose and burning hot cheeks.

He looked at you scanning you from head to toe, his puppy eyes furrowed concerned, slowly walking up to you. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were THAT sick??”, he asked worryingly while pulling you into a hug, the tone of his voice almost making your heart break.

“It’s really not as bad as it looks”,you reassured him,your hand gently rubbing over his back. “But did you bring the thermometer, i think i really should take my temperature”

“Of course”, he said with a smile, breaking the hug to reach into his bag,grabbing the theometre and holding it against your forehead

“And??what does it say??”,you asked curiously.

Seungmin just let out a little chuckle before saying “well,you know..... i always told you that you were hot as fuck....”

Jeongin:

I think we wouldn’t quite know what to do bc the others always took care of him

But he‘d definitely make you some warm tea to make you feel better

Would probably end up calling chan for advice lol

This poor baby got so concerned when you started sneezing nonstop and would rest, but now that you were in your bed, basically knocked out from your fever.

“Uhmmm...is there anything i can...like give you??” He asked,his voice filled with uncertainty. “

“Yes please”, you groaned,”i really think that i need some meds”

“Uhmm sure, I’m gonna look at what i have here, but i already made you some tea, so drink that while i be looking for...uh whatever medication that will make you feel better...just uhmm...wait here...”, he said while placing a cup of tea on your nightstand.

As soon ad he disappeared to look for the right meds, he called chan.

“Channie, i really really need your help....you know y/n is sick and i don’t know how the right medications look like....yeah i need something against fever....the one with the red or blue label?? And do we have to go to the doctor or-“

🖤masterlist

#kpop fanfic #kpop imagine #bang chan #kpop scenarios #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #minho #changbin #han jisung #skz hyunjin #hyunjin #felix #seungmin #jeongin #chan #skz reactions #skz soft hours #skz imagine

[leviiattacks]

How does levi comfort his s/o when they’re upset? Or just need a helping hand?

author note :: woooo i’ve been ia bc of exam stuff but here’s something from my drafts for now :-) i’ll probably be back to normal in two and a half weeks!!

levi makes special brews of tea reserved only for special occasions, he thinks a stuffy red nose and puffy red eyes after an hour of crying is enough of an occasion. he knows the warm beverage helps you relax and so he has no complaints making it for you just the way you like it

adding onto that but whenever he hands you your tea he always puts it in a special cup, he bought it for you a while back. it’s got a cheesy message written on the front and when you’re having a bad day it’s lovely to look at the cartoon heart which paints the ceramic. personally you think the “YOU MAKE MY HEART PUMP LOUD…LIKE REALLY LOUD” in block capitals is unique in its own cute levi way :-)

levi’s never been a big cuddler, it’s simply not his thing but seeing you look so vulnerable and upset has him doing just about anything to make you feel better. hell, he’d dance whilst juggling if it lifted your spirits

comforting pecks are common, whether they be on the forehead or the cheek or the mouth doesn’t matter. when you’re especially tired he wills you to close your eyes before gently laying you down. he observes you until he’s sure you’re fast asleep and then kisses you goodnight on the cheek. he makes it his duty to ensure you rest well.

goes full on house husband mode!!! he does the cooking, cleaning, laundry, errands you name it and he’s already done it. levi may not seem like it to other people but he’s caring beyond the way words can describe. if there’s a way for him to alleviate the stress or pressure a loved one feels he’ll make it a priority to help out

has an odd habit of sending random emojis over text that he normally never uses. he knows it makes you laugh because he’s seen you try not to double over at it so he happens to repeat it a lot when you’re feeling down

“Hello. I am at the store right now 🛒 Is there anything you would like?”

“I saw a cat 🐱 on the way home.”

“Have a nap 🛌 🙁”

he’s also a huge fan of the hug emoji, it’s very cute and he knows you like it when he uses it

when you’re stressed it reflects in your mood and rarely you may even regretfully start arguments with levi. he doesn’t take it badly at all, he gets emotions are difficult to control and he’s well aware that it isn’t your normal disposition.

instead of arguing back he bluntly says that although you may be irritating him he still loves you and that you should come back to him when you’re in a better mood. every time he does that you snap out of your self centered rage and apologize. levi knows you feel guilty for unnecessarily lashing out and so he always says it’s fine and not to worry about it without a second to spare

he also has a habit of leaving a filled cup of water on your bedside table just in case you ever need it. it’s not like you ever do but the fact he goes out of his way to do something like that means a lot

he really does understand emotion better than he lets on. he understands just how horrible it really feels to be alone during inconceivably dark moments. at the end of the day he wants you to be happy and he wants you to look after yourself

but most importantly levi isn’t suffocating with his presence. when he can tell you need to be alone he gives you the space you need, but when you call out for him or if he senses you need company he’s there for you.

all levi wants is to make what he can easy for you :-)

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan levi #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #levi headcanons #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi scenario #levi fanfiction #levi angst #levi fluff #fluff #angst #aot angst #aot fluff #leviiattacks #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #aot headcanons #aot imagines

[rayshippouuchiha]

Pro hero Deku is asked a lot if questions about his love life (no he's not dating kacchan, no he's not dating shouto, no he's not dating ochako she's married what the hell) and at some point he decides to get himself a boyfriend just for it to stop. Fake ofc, but no one needs to know that. He just wants some peace and quiet.

But of course the questions dont stop, if anything they're starting to get worse, only his mom seemed so happy that hes dating someone and now he's committed damn it, and the stories keeps getting more elaborate and like, maybe this was a bad idea but he's in too deep.

And he's also sort of growing attached to his fictional boyfriend, cause he seems like a cool and competent dude, izuku would not mind dating him if, you know, he actually existed.

Plot twist: hizashi is always one to stay on top of hero news, he loves and lives vicariously through gossip with nemuri any chance be gets, so he definitely keeps track of all the clues deku gives about his secret boyfriend (bc the nr 1 hero having a secret boyfriend is Grade A Gossip, and hizashi is intrigued and yearns to know more) and it's all fun and games until hizashi starts to grow suspicious that he KNOWS this secret boyfriend, that he is BEST FRIENDS with this secret boyfriend, and why the hell hasn't shouta told hizashi personally??? How dare???

Oh oh yes yes this is perfect.

And it gets even better because of course Hizashi is gonna confront Shouta. Of course he is. Shouta’s breaking some sacred best friend rules by not telling him that he’s been dating the #1.  Like, Hizashi understands the want/need for some level of privacy, really he does, but surely he should be exempt from that. Bro Law and everything.

So of course this means Shouta gets a phone call at like 5 in the afternoon when he’s actually trying to get some sleep.

“SHOOOUUTTTAAAA,” Hizashi screeches down the line so loudly that, even though he’s laying down alone in his own apartment, Shouta can’t help the way his quirk activates on instinct.

“What.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL MEEEE?” Hizashi sobs dramatically down the line.

“Probably because you always act like this,” Shouta huffs. “But I also have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m your best friend,” Hizashi prattles on.  “You could have at least told me, I can keep a secret you know?  I wouldn’t have told anyone, probably.”

“Hizashi,” Shouta breaks in.  “What. Are. You. Talking. About?”

“You’re Deku’s secret boyfriend!!” Hizashi announces victoriously. 

Shouta pulls his phone back enough to stare at the screen for a moment, brows furrowed, before he brings it back to his ear.

“Have you been kidnapped?” he practically barks the question out.

“W-What?” Hizashi sputters.  “NO! Sho what the hell?”

“What’s your safe word?” Shouta demands.

“Meatloaf,” Hizashi replies instantly. “Wh-”

“Are you trapped, currently bleeding out, injured, or in need of backup?” Shouta spits the questions out rapid fire.

“No, no, no, and no,” Hizashi answers back just as quickly. “I’m perfectly fine and at home, just wondering why my best friend hasn’t told me about his secret affair -”

Shouta hangs up.

Hizashi’s in no danger which means he doesn’t have to humor his ridiculous bullshit right now when he could be taking a nap.

His phone rings for the next ten minutes straight before Trash comes toddling into the room and curls up on top of it to go to sleep.

~~~

It doesn’t end there. Because of course it doesn’t.

Hizashi keeps badgering him about his supposed love affair with Deku of all people, the #1 hero Shouta’s never even met in person before.

Mainly he ignores Hizashi whenever he starts in on the topic or tries to badger him for detail that don’t exist.

But then...

Then it comes to a bit of a head when Shouta gets dragged out for drinks with Hizashi, Nemuri, and Tensei like they normally try to do every other week or so if possible.

Only this time they’re not the only pros at the dive bar they end up at.

Because Joke is there, because of course she is, because the universe officially hates Shouta.

Joke is an excellent hero, a good teacher from what he’s heard, and overall a nice person but Shouta only has enough spoons for a select group of people in his social life and sometimes even that’s pushing it.

Joke with her constant laughing, her attempts at comedy without her quirk involved, and her insistent need to constantly hit on Shouta is someone who drains him faster than should be possible.

Only this time it’s different.

They’re a few drinks in when Joke tries to slide her way into the booth beside him, a grin already stretching her mouth.

And while normally the others would just laugh and smirk and leave Shouta to suffer, this time Hizashi steps in.

“Yeah, no,” Hizashi slides the drinks he’d gone to collect onto the table and then shimmies his way in between Joke and the booth to steal the seat right beside Shouta instead.  “Seats taken.”

“Awwww,” Joke pouts, “don’t be like that.  Why’re you trying to get in the way of me and Eraser’s love story?”

"Find someone new to hit on, sweetheart,” Hizashi tips a look at her over his shades.  “Nemuri’s always free you know? Our Shouta’s a taken man now.”

There’s a sort of collective spit take around the table.

“What?” Nemuri croaks from where she’s trying to clean what looks like cream off of her face.  “Are you two ...?”

“Oh no, not us, we’ve told you that before.” Hizashi waves a hand in front of him with the ease of an argument they’ve all had more than once over the years.

“Then?” Tensei prompts.

Hizashi leans forward across the table, expression turning sly and secretive, the rest of the group leaning in as well, anticipation practically wafting off of them.

And Shouta immediately knows where this is about to go.

“Our Sho’s been keeping secrets,” Hizashi sing-songs.  “But honestly I can’t believe it took me so long to put it together when the clues were right there.”

“Get on with it man,” Nemuri orders.

“Our unkempt goblin friend is dating none other than the adorable and stacked force of nature that is our #1 hero Deku,” Hizashi throws his hands up in a ta-da sort of gesture.

For a long moment there’s silence.

And then every head at the table swings in Shouta’s direction all at once.

For a split second Shouta debates on nipping it in the bud, putting an end to this ridiculousness once and for all.  But then he stops, thinks about it, flicks a look towards Joke and quickly runs through the list of advantages having a fake SO could provide him with, and immediately course corrects.

“It’s a secret,” Shouta deadpans.  “We’re deeply in love.  Tell no one.”

Which, of course, means that by the time Shouta rolls out of bed the next afternoon everyone knows.

#The Boyfriend Bluff AU #BnHA #AiDeku #Anonymous #RayRambles

[plan-d-to-i]

(google translate again, yeah)

(I forgot to thank you for the last answer, I really didn't know that the drama used the music of my compatriot, it was a pleasant surprise for me)

I don't know if anyone has asked you this before, but do you think JC was good with WWX as a kid?

I mean not just their childhood, but the time of their training in Gusu.

I really love JC, and I understand perfectly well that he is the most dick in character, but I love him precisely during my studies at Gusu, I can not give any arguments that then JC was directly GOOD to WWX, but he is clearly cared a little about him and even ... worried? at least that moment after the punishment where JC helped WWX get to the room...

Yay - I'm so happy to hear about Stravinsky :)

Hahah loving jc as the dick that he is is the way to do it! go for it. :) also, sorry this was so delayed I wanted to reread the Cloud Recesses arc so it would be fresh in my mind before answering.

In terms of jc the Cloud Recesses arc is perhaps the most 'mellow' we see him aside from the Lotus Pod Extra but for me it's still impossible to find him a worthwhile person. I can already see the faults in his character that I know will only get worse as he grows older. Canonically I don't see how he would have any friends studying in the Cloud Recesses if he didn't come as a package deal w Wei Wuxian. I mean I doubt jiang cheng would have any friends without WWX period. In fact jiang cheng doesn't make any friends over the course of 13 years. He's also unable to find a wife bc of his temperament and behavior...

What we can glean about their relationship in the Cloud Recesses arc (and even the Lotus Pod Extra) is that any time WWX gets a kind word or understanding from someone, jiang cheng scoffs at it. Any time someone shits on WWX, jc is there to agree, to relish the idea of WWX being punished, and shit on him some more. He would be an immensely exhausting person to be around. He doesnt believe in WWX's ideas and ingenuity, (as NHS does for example), he doesn't believe WWX is hurt, he always assumes the worst of him, he doesn't believe LWJ might like WWX. The only thing he ever seems to believe is that WWX will dishonor YunmengJiang and that WWX should be punished. So for a kid who supposedly wants his father's approval so badly he instead constantly acts like his mother's mouthpiece/minion. He reprimands WWX like he's trying to become Madam Yu 2.0. I see jc stans all the time being like oh he had to keep WWX in check bc WWX was such a lOOooose canon, for the good of the Clan!! lol listen JFM didn't give a f...about WWX's behavior (in his letter to LQR) why are you so concerned? JFM would have preferred for jc to try & save his peers in the Xuanwu cave or at least to understand why that was the correct course of action rather than for him to just sit in front of the class in the Cloud Recesses and tell WWX off for giving LQR as good as he got, while actually still breaking the rules himself but eschewing punishment.

salt up here, quotes below :

Even when Nie Huaisang picks up on the fact that WWX is being treated unfairly by LQR, jc dismisses it and piles on WWX instead.

Nie Huaisang said, “Old Man Lan really seems like he’s coming down especially harshly on you. Every time he reprimands someone, it’s always you.” Jiang Cheng grunted. “He deserves it. What kind of answer was that? He can get away with saying that sort of nonsense at home, but he had the nerve to say it to Lan Qiren’s face. He was practically asking for the old man to kill him!”

But does WWX get away with ANYTHING in Lotus Pier? When we know he is punished constantly for EVERYTHING? This is jiang cheng fully being his mother's mouth piece. It's not something WWX would get away with, it's something jc knows JFM wouldn't mind. Which is why he's so pissed off. Which begs the question if JFM would not be upset with WWX's behavior why does jc need to criticize him? Again :

A dark expression shadowed Jiang Cheng’s face, and his voice was filled with anger. “Why are you so proud of yourself? What is there to be proud of?! Is being told to get out some amazing accomplishment? You’re making our entire clan lose face!”

and his glee at the idea that WWX will be punished leaves a bad taste in one's mouth considering how WWX was perpetually punished in Lotus Pier by jiang cheng's mother for... existing.

Jiang Cheng smiled grimly. “Now that you’ve thoroughly offended both Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren, you’re basically dead tomorrow. No one’s going to clean up your corpse either.”

and again

Without the old one, only the young one remained. This would be easy to deal with! Wei Wuxian rolled off the bed and laughed while putting on his boots. “Heaven’s charmed clouds are blessing me with shade.” Jiang Cheng was beside him polishing his sword with loving care when he decided to spill cold water over Wei Wuxian’s head. “Just wait until he gets back. You can’t escape punishment.”

Where others like NHS see value in WWX's thoughts

Nie Huaisang thought for a while. “Actually, I thought what you said was very interesting,” he said, not entirely able to hide his envy and yearning.

jc is always dismissive of WWX's ideas. These are inventions that WWX realizes. Demonic cultivation in the first conversation and The Spirit-Attraction Flag and The Compass of Evil in the second:

“Enough,” Jiang Cheng warned. “Whatever nonsense you spout, you better not head down that sort of dark road.”

-

Changing the topic, Wei Wuxian said, “If only there was something like fishing bait that could draw the water ghosts in. Or, something that could point in the direction they’re hiding, like a compass, that sort of thing.”

“Lower your head and watch the water,” Jiang Cheng said. “You’re letting your fantasies run wild again. Concentrate on looking for water ghosts like you’re supposed to.”

“Hey, mounting swords and flying was also only a fantasy once!” Wei Wuxian said.

He's also a hypocrite. Because even though he berates WWX for misbehaving, he himself breaks the rules. He drinks, he even goads WWX into buying liquor, the only difference is that he doesn't get punished for it, and he doesn't feel like coming forward and getting punished for it :

Naturally, Jiang Cheng was too embarrassed to talk about what Wei Wuxian had been up to. After all, all of them had egged him on to go and buy alcohol, and they all deserved to be punished as well. He could only speak vaguely. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing. It’s not that bad! He can walk. Wei Wuxian, why haven’t you gotten off yet?”

It's no wonder WWX is so impressed by LWJ's integrity in spite of his social status, when he's clearly used to the other dynamic :

“Lan Zhan, I really admire you,” Wei Wuxian said sincerely. “After I told you that you had to punish yourself too, you actually did it. You didn’t let yourself off at all. I can’t argue against that.”

A dynamic which is shown repeating in the Lotus Pod Extra where WWX is the only one to get punished for sunbathing, and which repeats here when Wei Wuxian here stops jiang cheng from confronting Zixuan over YanLi's honor (and jc's) and does it himself.

Zixuan :“Why don’t you ask what about her could make me satisfied?” he said in return.

Suddenly, Jiang Cheng rose. Wei Wuxian pushed him away and stepped between them, smiling coldly. “You think you’re very satisfactory? As though you have the right to be so picky!”

Zixuan: “If she’s unhappy, then let her break off the engagement! I certainly don’t cherish your wonderful disciple-sister. If you cherish her so much, why don’t you take it up with your father? Doesn’t he love you more than his own son?”

After hearing the last sentence, Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed, and Wei Wuxian was no longer able to contain his own fury. He flew at Jin Zixuan, his fist raised.

WWX takes the punishment alone. Same way he offers to do when he hurts himself falling from a tree because jc threatened him with dogs. meanwhile jc is gleeful to see him being punished.

[Wei Wuxian] was kneeling on the stretch of pebble road to which Lan Qiren had assigned him when Jiang Cheng walked over from afar and mocked him. “You’re kneeling so obediently.”

“It’s not like you don’t know I have to do this all the time.” Wei Wuxian’s voice filled with schadenfreude. “But this Jin Zixuan guy, there’s no way he hasn’t been pampered and spoiled rotten since birth. No one’s ever forced him to kneel, I’m sure of it. If he doesn’t wind up crying for mommy and daddy today, I’m not named Wei.”....

Wei Wuxian "...It’s a good thing you didn’t do anything.”

“I was going to. If you hadn’t pushed me away, the other side of Jin Zixuan’s face would be hideous too.”

“Stop it. His face is uglier for being lopsided."

WWX is happy to have spared jc from getting into trouble but jc makes the whole thing about himself anyway (like everything else ever) and is upset JFM would rush over for WWX - in his mind. Even though JFM clearly had to rush over to meet with Jin Guangshan not to coddle WWX in any way.

"Jiang Fengmian had never rushed to another clan in less than a day because of him. Regardless of whether what happened was big or small, or good or bad." Never

WWX on the other hand tries to be observant of jc's feelings and reassure him & distract him from his moods :

When Wei Wuxian saw Jiang Cheng’s melancholy expression, he thought he was still upset with what Jin Zixuan said. “You should leave. You don’t need to keep me company any longer. If Lan Wangji comes again, he’ll catch you. If you have time, you should find Jin Zixuan and watch his pitiful kneeling.”

Later in the book after nearly dying in the Xuanwu cave WWX leaves his sick bed to run after jc and comfort him after his mother's rant, even though WWX had to listen to his parents (and himself) being slandered by YZY. jc doesn't spare any thoughts for how other people might be feeling or suffering. His entire perception of the world is centered around himself. To him even WWX's greatest fear doesn't generate empathy, only amusement or later on a form of torture.

From that point onward, they made trouble everywhere together, and if they encountered a dog, Jiang Cheng would always chase it away for him, then enjoy a peal of derisive, unbridled laughter at Wei Wuxian’s expense beneath whichever tree the boy had leapt atop.

he grew up on the streets, often having to fight for food with vicious dogs. After several bites and chases, he gradually became extremely scared of all dogs, no matter the size. Jiang Cheng laughed at him because of this quite a lot of times.

This brings me to the last point. jc's resentment of WWX's interest in Lan Zhan, or in a serious friendship outside of him. I see so many ppl say that bc WWX fought he was kicked out of the Cloud Recesses early... but was he?

Jiang Cheng was somewhat taken aback. “Lan Wangji? What was he doing here? He still has the nerve to come see you again?”

“Yeah, I think his bravery is laudable if he still has the nerve to come see me. His uncle probably told him to check on me and see if I was kneeling properly.”

Jiang Cheng’s instincts were sending him ominous signals. “So were you kneeling properly?”

“I was then,” Wei Wuxian replied. “But I waited for him to walk away a bit, then took a tree branch, lowered my head, and dug out a hole in the dirt near me. It’s the pile right by your foot—there are ant tunnels there. It took me so much effort to find them. Anyway, I waited for him to turn back and see my shoulders shaking. He had to have thought I was crying, so he came back and asked. You should have seen his face when he caught sight of the ant tunnels!

“…” Jiang Cheng said, “Why don’t you just get the hell out and go back to Yunmeng? I bet he never wants to see you again.”

Thus, that evening, Wei Wuxian packed up his things, got the hell out, and went back to Yunmeng with Jiang Fengmian.

Repeatedly throught his stay in the Cloud Recesses even while NHS was observing that LWJ's behavior around WWX was strange and unique, jc was telling WWX he is hated and bothersome. When WWX wanted to apologize to LWJ jc is completely dismissive of it :

“He hates me already? I was thinking of apologizing to him,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Oh, so you want to apologize now? It’s too late!” Jiang Cheng said derisively. “He’s exactly like his uncle. He thinks you’ve been wicked ever since you were an embryo, so it’s beneath his dignity to pay you any attention.”

Later on when WWX mentioned wanting to invite LWJ to Lotus Pier jc categorically says no.

“Jiang Cheng had on a stern expression, “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want him to come, anyhow. Don’t invite him.”

BONUS

jc also always doubts WWX. He suspects him immediately of wrongdoings. He doesn't believe that getting hit with the discipline ruler in Cloud Recesses actually hurt him until LXC confirms that WWX might take more than a few days to heal. He doesn't understand WWX is in actual trouble from the Waterborne abyss and assumes he's fooling around luckily Lan Zhan is there to rescue him:

The disciple’s lower body had already been swallowed by the black whirlpool. It spun faster and faster, and he continued to sink deeper and deeper, as though something hidden beneath the water was pulling down on his legs.

Mounted on Sandu, Jiang Cheng had risen calmly until he was about sixty meters above the whirlpool before he looked down. Filled with displeasure at what he saw, he shouted and dove down. “What are you up to now?!”

The suction force inside Lake Biling grew ever stronger. Wei Wuxian’s sword was optimized for agility, and consequently, its strength happened to fall just short, and they were nearly pulled to the surface of the lake. Wei Wuxian steadied himself and held on to Su She with both hands.

“Someone help! If I can’t pull him up soon, I’ll have to let go!” he shouted.

Suddenly, the back of Wei Wuxian’s collar tightened, and his body was lifted into the air. He twisted his neck and saw Lan Wangji holding him up with one hand.

He maintains this same mindset when he tries to whip LWJ and WWX as they're attempting to leave Lotus Pier after the ancestral hall confrontation when WWX passes out.

Is jc evil in the Cloud Recesses ? No. He's just an annoying, basic, disagreeable asshole who doesn't bring anything positive to someone like WWX. People like jc become obsessed with kind, outgoing, generous people, people who don't set boundaries on what they give and what others take in their friendships. Even though they're dependent on them for their social interactions, because who else would socialize with them willingly, they resent them in equal measure, but at the same time they wouldn't be drawn to another selfish, self centered piece of shit person like themselves.

On a personal note, even Cloud Recesses jiang cheng is someone I would exclude from any personal friend group. Friendship with him is adding a minefield of jealousies and snide comments to every interaction. Things that then others will need to compensate around because he won't compromise or empathize w issues outside of his own concerns.

Translation source : x

#This is long af because I wanted to have one post where I included everything #I’ve bitched about jc’s behavior in the cloud recesses for a long time so it was time to put down the quotes #mdzs #Cloud Recesses #Lan Wangji #Wei Wuxian #Nie Huaisang #jiang cheng

[babydarkstar]

cacoethes

part two: bring your sweet loving 

rating: E (18+ ONLY) || pairing: ezra x f!reader || word count: 10.5k

chapter summary: as the night winds down and tensions simmer, we learn more about you, pieces of your past, and your relationship with ezra.

 warnings: ezra’s gigantic mouth that won’t shut up (suggestive language) and two criminals not knowing how to act; caretaking, i guess? reader cleans ezra but it’s nothing erotic; SMUT; handjob and graphic depictions of a glorious dick; dirty talk; dubcon maybe bc painkillers but he’s enthusiastic abt it; praise kink; switches having a great time; ezra’s subby in this but i promise he’s a dom too just not tonight; mentions of death, killing, tattoos, scars; mention of past drug use, bad coping mechanisms; mm i hc that ezra is a tiny tattoo guy so there’s that; fluff bc im sweet; author is a southern peach, forgive her if it gets a little slow and twangy up in here

a/n: un-beta’d bc mistakes are sexy. i’ll go back later and fix whatever i find but for now. enjoy. i’m literally just making shit up about this universe as we go but it’s working out for the best so bear with me. lmk if u want me to add u to be tagged here. tagging: @pedros-mustache @jk7789    

crossposted to ao3 :) || playlist || one || two || three

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

“Here, Cee,” you said, adjusting the threadbare blanket over your cot and splaying a hand over it while she eyed you from across the tent, still standing amongst the carnage of a violent field surgery, “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

The poor girl was scared. Well—not scared, not anymore.

Vengeful, for certain, though it seemed to dwindle with every minute she watched you interact.

Definitely wary of the two of you.

Which was appropriate, given that Ezra had killed her father and left her alone on an uninhabitable moon, only to be scooped up by his partner and deceived into thinking she was safe, and then forced to perform impromptu surgery to hack off an arm. But she appeared more wary to accept help from you than wary of you.

And honestly, if Ezra hadn’t just lost a limb and you didn’t want to hover beside him after not seeing him for a month to make sure he didn’t slip the veil in his sleep or disappear beneath your fingertips—and if you weren’t trying to earn her trust, you’d have made her take the floor.

But things were different now, they might always be. She had saved his life. You owed her your cot to sleep on.

“Wait,” Ezra said, swallowing thickly as he blinked, seeming to just process the words you had spoken, “You think so little of me that I’d let you sleep on the dirt after the day you’ve had? Now, I agree that our guest should find comfort in a cot of her own, but I will not deny you the simple respite of sleep. That would prove me an unworthy companion.”

“Ezra,” you said, giving him a look of incredulity that seeped into your tone, “You can’t be serious.”

He eyed you and clenched his jaw, still stomaching the fact that he had one less limb to worry about, and a bunch more problems to deal with. It was a look that told you he was not arguing with you, you were going to sleep on the cot. He would not be coddled like a child just because he lost an arm.

Which was, in itself, ridiculous. You didn’t plan to coddle him—you weren’t the type, not really. But. He’d lost a fucking arm. But he was also still delirious from the anesthetic, so that didn’t help his desire to prove something to the universe.

“You’re taking the cot, I’m not having this conversation,” you said, wiping his sweaty brow with your sleeve, “Tap into the ruthless outlaw inside of you and take it without regret. You know I hardly sleep anyways, I’ll live without a bed for the night.”

“Then I must insist you share it with me, precious angel,” he sighed, and you could almost see the cogs in his head turning as his distant gaze darkened into something hungry, “I’ve longed to feel your body pressed against mine since I left with Number Two. The divinity of your skin.” He hummed, eyes fluttering shut, “More…more precious than the ore we risk our lives for. Sweeter than fruit. Fresher than a rainstorm.”

“Ez,” you warned, snapping a glare at him.

“Your body…so tender, warm,” he continued, entranced in his own fantasy, not even hearing you when you warned him yet again, “All soft and pliant beneath my touch. It has been far too long since we partook in a pleasure as indulgent as one another—before our partnership with Two, if I can recall. Grant me heaven tonight. I deserve the satisfaction of watching you drip honey for me—”

“Hey! None of that,” you snapped, cocking an eyebrow—and fighting the flutter in your chest and the heat tingling down your core, “There are young ears present, Shakespeare Erotica. Not to mention young eyes.”

You would do no such thing with him as long as this teenager remained in close quarters and under your care. He turned to look at Cee, as if he’d forgotten all about her for a moment. Or maybe it was that he didn’t care. Bastard.

“I’m okay as long as you guys don’t fuck in front of me,” Cee sighed, resigned to have dealt with too much in her past to be worried about flirting—no, verbal-fucking.

“We won’t be doing any of that,” you assured her, giving Ezra another pointed look before slinging his arm around your shoulders and helping him to the cot. He grumbled incoherently, moaning and groaning the few steps it took to ease him down into the squeaky frame.

When you finally got him down—forced him to lay down—he let out another soft whimper of pain, followed by your name. “Don’t go.”

Brushing the hair off his sweaty forehead, you bent down to press a kiss there, “M’right here, Ez. Rest. I’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

It was the least you could do—and that way you could take inventory of every inch of him to ensure he didn’t have any other wounds hiding and festering and threatening his life. Just as this wouldn’t be your first time tending to him while he laid incapacitated, he’d done the same for you plenty of times. There was very little, if anything at all, the two of you hadn’t seen of each other. Vulnerability had another name here: normalcy.

“After—” he rasped up at you, coughing and then righting himself, “After we find our way off this Kevva-damned moon—which we will—I understand if you no longer deem me…worthy of your affections. It’s the only explanation I can find for your denial of my offer to dote on you. I only pray you make good on your long-standing promise to drop me where I stand should I ever disappoint you, dear heart of mine.”

Okay, you didn’t know where all the insecurity and sentiment was coming from, especially hearing it from the mouth of your dear old confident mean-streak Ezra, but he couldn’t possibly be serious. It made you ache to think that he didn’t trust you to stay with him, that he viewed himself as lesser because he lost his arm. Well, he was lesser, but only by mass.

Also, really? The only explanation he could find for you not wanting to sleep with him was that you hated him and didn’t want him because of his injury? He couldn’t think of any more glaringly obvious reasons, those of which had just been pointed out to him?

With a sigh, you brushed your thumb across the silvery scar on his cheek, “Rest now, chatterbox. I’ll be here when you wake up—and every morning after, for as long as I can. Only death could pry you from me, and me from you. You’ve got me, forever….I still see you as you are—a hundred percent you, a hundred percent mine.”

The words felt foreign on your lips, but he was bound to forget them the moment he fell asleep, so you didn’t feel as weird waxing poetic right back at him. The man had rubbed off on you in more ways than one. You normally didn’t speak to one another so frankly—at least, you didn’t, given the nature of what it meant to care out here and how you’d already unofficially established that you two were something more—but tonight you couldn’t fucking help it.

Ezra leaned into your touch, pawing at it with his hand, grabbing onto your fingers and kissing into your palm. A dull smile poked at his mouth and he let it engulf him. “Quite the charmer you are, siren.”

You didn’t respond, only half-smiled and wriggled—reluctantly—from his grasp to grab a few clean cloths and fill a bucket with water. After squirting the sanitizing solution in the water, you simmered the lights down to the lowest setting, to where your eyes had to adjust for a moment before you could make your way across the tent. His gaze bore into you—no, both Ezra and Cee watched every move you made; one in lazy admiration and the other in curiosity.

“Do you need me to put a drape over the post? I’m strippin’ him,” you asked Cee as you slung Ezra’s clean shirt from off the drying line onto your shoulder—you smiled at the floor, thanking yourself from hours ago for deciding not to burn it. You grabbed the bucket and tottered over to him, nodding at him to scoot. He obliged, giving you room to sit by his hip so you could ease his clothes off.

Cee shook her head when you looked to her for a response, opting to sit on your cot facing away from you with her nose in her book, so you shrugged and tugged the fabric off of Ezra in slow, deliberate motions, wincing every time he grunted.

As you took the time to clean off the grime and dirt and sweat of the Green, he told you about running into Cee and her father Damon; how he tried to take his entire harvest from the few cycles he’d spent with Two; about Two’s untimely, irrational outburst that cost them their life. About the Queen’s Lair and the mercs, and the plan to ravage and plunder and take it all for themselves. You thought the Queen’s Lair was a rumor. Not even a rumor—a myth, a legend, something fabricated by desperate fools with hazy minds of dust and their eyes set on fortune. But Ezra told you he’d seen part of it marked on Cee’s map, that her father was contracted to help extract the deposit. Cee even pulled her map out to point to the marked areas, albeit with clinical movements and short words.

So you made a plan to head out at first light, with the trip taking most of the daylight, and they’d be cutting it close but there was no way you’d let Ezra hike so many klicks in his state—not without a few hours’ rest first.

After you’d managed to clean his legs, his hips, his feet and get him into something more comfortable than compression pants, you moved to his torso and traced over each scar marring his skin, each jagged edge where something hadn’t healed right or wasn’t stitched properly. He’d lost some weight under the harsh conditions of the Green—you both had. But he still held onto muscle from the toil that came with survival on such harsh terrain; and he was naturally broad, he always would be, which made him sturdy.

Your fingers ghosted over a few microtattoos he’d gotten; one beneath his ribcage, one on his hipbone, and the one you’d given him yourself on his lower sternum. That one, as you brushed over it with a wet cloth, never failed to make you smile. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

A tiny, unfilled heart, a mere outline, barely a centimeter in size. It was messy, simple, done in minutes. But it meant something, meant exactly what you’d never quite been able to voice.

My heart is yours. Take it.

You’d done it one night when the two of you had gone on a two spin bender, which happened more towards the end of your glory days, when the drugs came easy and heavy and the illusion of time slipped by like sand on the wind.

Any time someone hired your services as cleaners, it took a toll. They didn’t do it often because of that, but the payout was worth the work. No matter how many times you swore you would never do it again, you went back. Because it was hard to ignore the way it felt to flood a deserving someone’s mouth with the taste of their own blood, or to slip a knife in between their ribs and let it slide like butter and watch the light die. It was hard to ignore that you liked it, especially when it was so violent—one of the worst sins to commit, and you enjoyed it.

The act of killing had become cathartic for you. It made you feel more alive, reminded you that you had a beating, bloody heart, and a brain, and veins that pumped blood, and muscles that tore apart and rebuilt themselves stronger. Killing came easy when you didn’t know the target. It felt like a game.

Ezra didn’t enjoy it as much as you did—not to say he didn’t enjoy it at all, for he most certainly did. But he didn’t process it the same way you did. He saw killing as a means to survive and a means to get where he needed to go. He enjoyed turning it into a game, making fun out of whatever circumstance presented itself.

But that one—the last one—it had gone wrong. Messy, slow, noisy, choppy. There was only supposed to be one person in the house: typical target, a man who owed the wrong people a whole lot of money and refused to pay up.

One man.

One man was all you’d expected.

One man was all you’d been instructed would be in the condo.

He went down easy enough, quiet enough—Ezra snuffed him and stuffed him and you’d made to transfer his points into the right pockets.

And that was that.

They had tossed the bodybag over the high-rise balcony and into the pits of the bottomless highway next to the building, with a blinker-bomb inside just in case.

That was that.

Except it wasn’t, it was so fucking far from it.

Ezra, being himself, had wanted so bad to sneak in a quickie before heading back—an unholy, immoral ritual you two had initiated, to fuck where you killed—and who were you to protest? Who were you to say no to pretty words and soft eyes glittering with an untamed wild? To say no to the hands that already ripped at gear and pushed beneath underwear just to get a taste—you couldn’t, it was impossible.

Fresh off a high of adrenaline, pulsing with nervous energy—he was always so good, he always got you right where you needed and then that much further.

And Ezra—being himself—could not keep his fucking mouth shut. The stereotype about men holding in their moans, about them never whimpering or whining or groaning or grunting—yeah, that was a load of Bearkie-shit.

Maybe it held true for some men, but.

Not your Ezra. Not even a little bit.

He talked like heaven’s mouthpiece—or maybe the devil, given all the sinful things he’d whisper to you in the crux of any given night. He let loose whatever noise he deemed necessary to make.

They’d only just made it to the dried, bloody stain on the carpet (a bed on which to copulate), knocking over a floating hilolamp and pulling a chuckle from your paramour, when a shout rang through the apartment and shattered your moment into a thousand pieces.

It was only supposed to be one. One man.

Instead, you were met with another man who you’d later learn to be his brother, the target’s mother, and his pregnant wife.

The man held onto some type of curved sports bat, keeping it up threateningly as if warning you of something imposing. Ezra didn’t hesitate to shoot him in the head, not even bothering to get up from where he’d pressed his hips between your legs. But then you’d had to go and check the other rooms, effectively killing any mood the two of you had shared.

Because fuck, where the men had no fight in them, the women wouldn’t go down without a struggle. Or maybe it was that you pitied them, and it distracted you. They’d already peeked their heads out from behind the door of the master bedroom, worried and doe-eyed and determined.

Maybe if they hadn’t seen your faces—if they’d still been asleep while you swept for warm bodies after the first assailant—maybe they’d have gotten out with their lives. But who were you kidding? You killed without thought. You’d likely have put a pillow over their heads before aiming your thrower and firing twice for good measure, had you been sharp and not distracted by a tongue in your mouth.

Instead, Ezra had the audacity to try to bargain with them. Something about having a soft spot for mothers—his own having been a beacon in his life until she left him orphaned as a young boy. He made it a point not to kill women and children. It was one thing in which he remained unwavering. (He’d kill a grown woman if she gave him reason to, like he had on Exon-5, but that was another story for another time, and a different circumstance which called for such measures, namely that of protecting you.) But he should have known better, he should have known not to try something like that. He should’ve known that he’d have to let go of the final shred of morality he held onto.

So Ezra took down the old woman in a way you still have yet to ask about and don’t care to know; and you’d ended with the pregnant woman choking on her own blood when you twisted your knife into the dip of her throat—and you felt awful about it after watching her crumble beneath you, but she’d hit you upside the head with a thick textbook of outdated skimmer-craft modules and it made you see red among pinpricks of stars.

And that night, after all was said and done they’d spent a fortune on getting high—just to forget, just to be okay.

That night they’d locked themselves in a self-imposed prison of satin sheets and destructive tendencies. Two days buzzing with no food, little water, just him and you and needles and spoons and eyedroppers and blades and pills. Like you couldn’t breathe if he didn’t fill you with all of him, you wouldn’t be able to stand upright if he took his hands off you and stopped letting you flood your veins with a chemical glow. Heavy eyelids, messy sex, raw arms and red eyes.

It felt fucking awful, coping that way, but it felt too fucking good and it made you forget about the lives you’d taken in (somewhat) cold blood.

So after sprawling beside him on the gigantic plush bed with his hand ghosting over your spine, you’d found a part of yourself snagged at the corner of this wild-eyed man’s tar-black soul, and you had thought about what could have happened in an alternate universe.

A moment when he was the target, you were (somehow) the pregnant wife, and you watched him die before succumbing to the dark of your own soul escaping you. And it made you desperate to cling to him as he was in the moment, desperate to know that he was yours and you were his. It was then that you’d asked him if you could mark him. Claim him, to know that he wouldn’t leave you like that, and if he did, he’d have a piece of you everywhere. He’d go down with a piece of you.

Ezra had been delighted, of course, as he was always one for symbolism and deeper meaning even if he didn’t quite understand the rhetoric. And it wasn’t the first time you’d marked each other, just a different time with a different meaning. So he let you dip a sterile needle in ink and plunge it into the tender skin of his chest.

You had one too, a heart on your sternum. Nestled between your breasts, just close enough to your heart to feel like it mattered, like it meant that he felt the same. But you didn’t even let yourself go that far—you two were doped up and delirious and he enjoyed marking you in any way he could, so an opportunity to stick and poke his way further into your skin than he already had was an opportunity he could not pass up. At least, that was how you saw it. Nevertheless, it made you happy to see it there on his chest, and to have one that matched.

Ezra’s soft voice snapped you from the memory.

“What’s crossed your mind to make you so delicate in your touch, so solemn in your stare?”

You realized you had stopped your ministrations and had planted your palm on his chest, staring just over his shoulder and onto the canvas beside him. With a careful hand, you resumed gentle motion over his pecs, up his clavicle, his throat.

“Thinking about Beta-Mobilia,” you whispered, unable to meet his eye, “And after.”

“Mm,” he grunted in recognition, the vibration tickling your fingertips, “Regrettable night. Unavoidable, necessary. But I dwell in shame identical to yours.”

“I don’t deserve to be here after that. I didn’t deserve to live after the Exons, The Grime. Why am I still alive?”

“We’ve discussed this in great length by now, siren. Don’t doubt your existence. It’s beyond sense, beyond comprehension.”

You nodded, still unable to look at him. But then he latched onto your wrist, brushing his calloused thumb over the delicate skin there, and this time you couldn’t keep your gaze away from the soft smile that begged to form on his lips.

“And I appreciate your tender care, wildfire,” he hummed, eyes glittering up at you like two dark pools of amber, “Where would I be without it? Mmm…mhm. Dead, likely. Or bitter. Wicked with taciturn rage. No meaning could come from that.”

“You, bitter and unspeaking? Unthinkable, I’d sooner pronounce you dead,” you drawled, thankful for his kindness to grant distraction, and he granted you an eye-roll. But his expression softened when you sat him upright and maneuvered behind him, wiping down his back in gentle strokes. You folded the cloth over once the side turned brown with grime, and moved up to his neck, scrubbing over his shoulders and giving short strokes down his nape and behind his ears.

“So you planned to go ravage the Queen without me, huh?” you asked quietly, irked that he hadn’t even come to find you before setting out on that venture, “Planned to leave me to rot on the Green, take the money for yourself and steal away with the girl.”

Ezra sighed, and you could see from behind his shoulder how he worked his jaw, formulating what to say.

“Understand that I do nothing without you willingly. Birdie over there’s about as fleeting as a real one. But trust that I planned to come get you—I’d never leave you stranded. I just couldn’t introduce another person into the threadbare alliance I had forged until the time was right.”

“She likes me,” you countered, smiling over at Cee, who now laid with her back facing you as her ribs contracted with the first breaths of sleep. A sign of trust. You didn’t know when exactly you’d earned it, but you’d accept it nonetheless. She had also taken both of your throwers (something you protested and Ezra waved off), so maybe that helped.

“No doubt—there’s plenty to like about you.”

Ever the flatterer, even when delirious with pain.

With a coy smile, you scrubbed over his head and then his face, careful to avoid his snapping mouth that reached out ever so often to nip at your hand—there was that playfulness, the natural effervescence of his presence. When you decided your work was done, you eased him back down on the cot and he allowed it with no protest.

You fluffed his pillow and moved the book you’d stashed beside it. He turned his head and pressed his nose to the pillow, grunting in mild appreciation.

“Smells like you down here,” he remarked with a half-smile, eyes drooping, “You sleep on my cot while I was away?”

“I missed you,” you whispered, nodding, just now aware of how much his presence affected you. To think that you had resolved to try to move on without him—it seemed ridiculous now.

“I missed you,” he returned, “You haven’t the slightest idea how much I wanted you beside me. Number Two was a fond ally but not a companion. Nothing like the banter we exchange, nor the secrets we share.”

“They never talked. I imagine your time away was just as lonely as mine.”

“Absolutely. I regret agreeing to leave with Two. But you know we couldn’t have trusted them to stay at camp while we went off—not absolutely. Not when they’d never spoken a word,” he chuckled and then coughed, a quiet rumble you felt against your leg as it zigzagged through his chest.

Thank Kevva you had a plan to leave now. The spent filter had taken a toll on Ezra—and it wasn’t even his to begin with. He insisted on giving you his when the one your new suit came with was almost completely used up.

Fuck the man for caring about you; he’d gone soft during your time on the Green, and you hated how much you loved it. Hated it because he needed to focus on himself, needed to stop putting you before him. Hated it because every day it made you feel like somehow, he loved you back. That somehow, he thought of you as more than just a constant in his life, more than a body to fuck and a brain to pick.

You’d grown used to each other. But his unpredictability oozed into every aspect of himself, every nook and cranny of his life, and you were too worried about fucking up a good thing over a simple conversation. All it took was one sensitive topic breached and you’d surely find yourself shit out of luck. He was all you had left of the scraps of a fucked up life. Without him, you’d make do but not without a struggle and not without reluctance. Some part of you knew he’d be the same even if he initiated a split.

The thought had you hurrying to tug his shirt on before gathering the cloths and scurrying to place the bucket near the front of the tent.

And you shouldn’t have been so scared to be honest with him—the two of you rarely kept things to yourselves. But to love someone so fully within your heart, to never want to be away from them, to never grow tired of their presence no matter how tedious they may be or frustrating they could get, it scared you.

“A kiss for the wounded?” Ezra asked, brown eyes wide and mouth pouty enough to break you from your racing mind. You softened then, padding back over to him on tiptoe and settling back at his side for a brief moment.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to grant him a kiss to his lips—the first one you’d shared with him in fuck knows how long. Too long, that was for sure, because when your lips notched with his chapped ones you melted, every worry and every qualm simply washed away in a swirl of pink pleasure.

You couldn’t help yourself—an indulgent, quiet moan pooled in your chest and slipped from your throat before you could stop it, and he hummed right back when his tongue pushed between your lips and you let him devour you. Always the ravager, ever a greedy bastard when it came to his pleasure, he licked up into your mouth and tangled his tongue with yours. It took very little for you to melt right into his chest, pressing your own against him and whimpering when he sneaked his hand up the hem of your shirt to rub circles over the skin of your back. You remained sloppy and almost lazy but intentional as you held either side of his nape and toyed with the strands of his still-damp hair, pouring yourself into this kiss like you’d never kiss him again.

Fuck. Fuck, you wanted him so bad. You missed this man with every vibrating inch of you. You missed his body, you missed his voice calling to you from the very depths of himself, you missed everything about him, and you needed him as close as possible. Closer than close, you needed him.

But fuck. You couldn’t. When you pulled back for air, it didn’t surprise you when he pressed his palm flat on your back to keep you from moving too far.

“Mm, baby—you’re divine. I ache for you,” he all but whimpered into your mouth, breath brutally hot and heavy as he fed you his soul, “Come sit down on me—come take what’s yours. I want to feel you strangle me, show me just how much you—”

“No, Ez,” you cut him off in a biting whisper, lips kiss-swollen, hating how, if there had been literally any other person in the tent beside you, you might’ve taken him up on the offer, “I want to, I promise you that. But she’s a kid and I have limits—one of those limits is fucking in the same room as one.” You glared at him with half a heart, then leaned down to run the tip of your nose along the curve of his ear, smiling when he shivered, “I swear, once we get out of here I’ll make it up to you so many times you’ll forget your own name. You get first choice—however you want me, I’m yours to take.”

“Fuck—alright, I apologize for my eagerness,” he smiled, tilting his head to kiss your forehead.

“But,” you whispered, your heart racing as you glanced over to be sure Cee had fallen asleep before inching up to look back into his eyes. Fuck it, he deserved it. “If you stay quiet, I’ll take care of you right now.”

His eyebrows raised in deft interest at your offer.

“Will you let me take care of you, Sailor?”

Ezra would never admit it, and you’d never tease him about it because it made you feel some kind of way—but he fucking adored when you used his callsign. You were his siren, after all. Only made sense for him to draw to you like a dying man at sea when you called for him. You used it rarely aside from in the field, opting for your preferred chatterbox—because he was more that than anything else—so it came as a treat when you decided to pull it from your bag of tricks.

“I can hardly refuse such a tempting offer.”

“Quiet, though,” you reminded him, tiptoeing your fingers across his chest and tugging the waistband of his pants and his underwear down. Just enough to spring his cock free, which was already hard and leaking for you.

Fuck, he was such a gorgeous sight, and you couldn’t help the urge to cup his balls and nudge them free too, to admire every glorious inch of him.

Spreading your fingers out over his groin through the coarse curls gone wild with mistreatment, you paid extra attention to the white patch of hair ghosting over the base of his cock and spreading out near his abdomen before stopping abruptly on the left and diverging back down into dark brown. You remember when you’d first noticed it and had all but squealed in delight.

Every bit of him was a pleasant surprise, just as you’d found yourself more than eager to let him ruin you for anybody else with the sheer size of him.

Nobody fucked you like they were dying and you were salvation; nobody but him. And shit, did he tear you open. As if he’d carved a space inside of you just for him, each time he’d leave you with a hollow ache that only he could sate.

“Baby,” you purred in a whisper, kissing his hipbone and then leaning up to wrap your hand around the girth of him, rubbing your thumb over the weeping red of the head, “You’re so pretty for me like this.” Forever a glutton for compliments, he whimpered his soft appreciation and you hushed him accordingly. He was so thick, so big that you struggled to touch the tip of your middle finger to your thumb, so long that if you had planned to swallow him down tonight, you would’ve been needing your hand to help. But tonight you could not risk the absolutely filthy noise of you gagging on him; he’d likely cum faster and in less time to worry about waking up a certain tentmate, but you wanted to watch every muscle in his face twitch, wanted to see him take his pleasure unobstructed by your tears. This way was quieter.

So with that thought in mind, you shifted to straddle one of his thighs so you could watch him without tiring your hand in an awkward position. Then you let a string of spit drool down and over him and you gave him a twist and then more, sharp and sudden and fast in your movements as opposed to the slow, appreciative way you’d unsheathed him.

Ezra hissed out a curse, bucking up into your hand, “Shit, darlin’—“

Arching an eyebrow, you halted your work on him immediately. His pulse beat through the throbbing vein jutting out

“What did I tell you?” you snapped. With your free hand you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his neck, feeling the column of his throat contracting as he swallowed. Wide brown eyes looked up at you, a tinge of amusement in their stare.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” you asked in a low rasp, tightening your grip on his neck and giving him a little shake before going slack again, “I don’t wanna hear a single word come outta that pretty-boy mouth. If I do, I’m blue-balling you. Fair?”

Ezra nodded, his gorgeous fat mouth blessedly shut for once.

“Good boy,” you cooed, kissing him before forcing his jaw open and spitting in his mouth. It would’ve been cruel but you meant it so affectionately, and his gentle moan told you he was more than willing to accept it.

You felt his cock twitch beneath your fingers and you simpered, giving a little shimmy of your shoulders in appreciation.

Controlling this stubborn man, resorting him to silence made you feel powerful. It made you feel respected, worshipped; if the man who never shut up and always called the shots would gladly take the backseat and grant you the power to take charge, that meant more than you could wish for.

So you resumed pumping his cock, working him with both hands and then switching to hold onto his throat again before going back to two hands. The act still made quite some noise—filthy and wet and sloppy—but at this point you were less concerned about it than you had been prior. When you decided, despite his tip dripping precum, to spit down onto him again for the fun of it and twist him with a gentle tug, he couldn’t stop the whine that left him even with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It had you darting to clamp over his mouth, shooting daggers down at him as he stared up with a silent apology in his eyes, one you might have taken as genuine if not for the way the brown of his irises had disappeared into black, blown out with lust and glassy with pleasure.

“If you’re gonna cum, let me know so you can do it in my mouth. I just cleaned you up and I’m not doing it again.”

The last bit came out harsher than you meant but he took it all the same, biting back a grunt in the form of a sharp exhale as he twitched violently in your hand. Yeah, he didn’t really need to let you know when he was about to blow; you knew him too well. At that, you took it upon yourself to remove your hand from his mouth in favor of scooting to lean down and put your mouth over his angry, swollen tip, flinching at the way the frame creaked but ignoring it and opting to swirl your tongue over him instead.

“There it is,” you whispered with an arguably evil smile—quickly, before pulling him back into the heat of your mouth, resuming your work and grunting when he bucked up into your mouth, chasing the high you were drawing out of him.

Ezra came with a muffled, broken sob, his face buried in his arm as he bit down on his bicep, flexing and squeezing his fingers. A thick stream of his cum hit the roof of your mouth and you indulged him, taking him in further so you could swallow everything he gave you. Ropes and ropes and ropes of cum, like he hadn’t let himself get off in so long, like he’d been saving all of it for you. The thought made you whine around him, and you pulled off when he finished, flashing him your dripping tongue with his spend still on it and drawing it back in before any of it could spill.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighed, letting out a quiet, breathy laugh as he tugged on the front of your shirt to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue.

This time when you pulled back and smiled, you granted him a toothy grin, goofy and knowing. It took you a minute not to giggle like a little kid as you carded your fingers through his hair. He grinned right back, still catching his breath. To you, he was gorgeous, inside and out, flaws and all. You wanted to fuck him right then. You wanted to make love to him, to let him fill you entirely and to sob into his mouth, showing him everything you couldn’t tell him.

“Get some sleep,” you settled on instead, slipping off the cot with little grace after replacing the waistband of his pants, “We head out early tomorrow.”

“Hey now, what about you?” Ezra asked, brows drawn together in concern that you wouldn’t find the same enjoyment he did.

“You’ll just owe me.” You winked then, and gave him one last kiss, which he hummed into with a great appreciative rumble.

Then you pressed your forehead into his, “Mine—you’re mine. Never leave me again or I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself. You’re everything.”

Because he was.

“Nothing without you.”

That was his response, always always always. To hear it again pricked tears in your eyes, so much so you squeezed them shut.

And once again, you caught yourself wanting to say it. This time it had ghosted in your throat, almost making it into the curve of your mouth for you to hold its shape and give voice to a thought. But you stopped it before it could get far. Those three words, the same ones that now haunted you since you’d decided to indulge in every reminiscence involving them. Somehow he had come back to you, a feat which could not be commended enough, but now you ached for him—yearned for him even stronger than if he had well and truly died.

As you settled down onto the floor beside him, those three torturous words surfaced into a memory. The one that, among other fears, made you ever so hesitant to admit just how much you loved him.

————————————

“—In that vein, I don’t find myself in particular need of a great, star-shattering love story. If love is all-encompassing, I can do without the obstacle. Romanticizing my life and its quarrels is satisfaction enough.”

You didn’t know why you were still listening. You just knew that if Ezra kept it up, you’d find a way out of this cell just to break into his and strangle him. Anything to get him to shut the hell up. Banging your head methodically against the wall that separated the two of you, you didn’t even try to hold back your groan of displeasure as he rambled on.

“Now, don’t doubt my skill in worship. I have plenty of practice in the art of copulation”—you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face—“To say I haven’t affixed my interests on one soul or another at some point in time would ordain me a liar. I simply prefer to remain lovers in action…and not in name nor feeling. Companionship…yes, it’s something we all yearn for. It can’t be helped. A warm body, a brain to pick. All wonderful facets to enjoy for the sake of one’s own baser desiderata. But—“

“Shut up,” you bit out through gritted teeth, tugging at the roots of your hair when he kept going and you had to repeat yourself, “Shut up, you goddamned chatterbox. I don’t give a fuck about your love life. Why are you even talking about this?”

A brief silence occupied the space, as if he was thoroughly perplexed by your outburst. Then he let out a huffed laugh, amused.

“You inquired about the specifics of my occupation, little thorn.”

Every time he used that nickname for you—the thorn in my side—it made you bristle. Especially when he used it almost affectionately, soothingly, full of calm and charm that had you balling your fists and pricking the skin of your palms with your fingernails. You despised him, and he treated your existence as a joke, or as a little pet he would grab from its cage and admire before tossing it back and neglecting it until he deemed its presence acceptable again. Everything was funny. Everything could be laughed at. Sometimes you didn’t mind when the guards came to beat him bloody; it made him shut up, whether from pain or because he had passed out.

“Prospecting has nothing to do with love,” you snapped, shoulders tense despite the ache in your body. If these fuckers holding you captive didn’t kill you, the stress of surviving next to this fucker surely would.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed, suddenly serious, “Love for others, at least. Love for the dig, love for the hunt and the adventure—that’s a different narrative altogether. Which is why I deemed it appropriate to explain such measures. The lifestyle I settled for is no small undertaking. It comes with sacrifice.”

His condescension was unintentional but still stabbed and poked at you like keepers at a circus.

————————————

It comes with sacrifice. That it did.

That long-ago night haunted you to this day.

But Ezra had his mind focused on softer dreams as he broke you from your self-destruction once more.

“Nights like these make me keen to hear you sing for me again,” he lilted out through the dark, a reminiscent simper pulling at his mouth and crinkling his eyes as he shifted to look down at you, “The melody of your voice haunts the halls of my midnight reveries. But it is such a sweet possession—as though I willed a ghost to enchant me with her gift. A siren indeed. Lure me into the sea of your deception, try to pull me under like the rest of them. But not me. No…not me—I float like driftwood in the breeze…follow the tides of your affection. Somehow I remain unscathed, and you lap at me in gentle waves.”

“Such powerful words from a man who should be asleep,” you chuckled quietly, pressing your lips to the back of his hand where you held onto it now, fingers laced.

“I am but a vendor of poetry. And you, a weaver of melody. Sing for me, siren,” he murmured, his voice thick with the drowsy pull of lassitude. He hadn’t asked that of you in so long you had almost forgotten what it felt like to hear it. Almost. And you would have agreed to it, but—

“No, the girl, she—“

“I don’t mind,” Cee interrupted, quiet and soft. It surprised you; you thought she had fallen asleep—you didn’t want to wake her with your singing. And then you were—

Shit. You sincerely hoped she had just woken up due to Ezra’s long-winded soliloquy about your singing, and hadn’t heard anything else beyond that. Mm, no. You think she would’ve said something about how fucking gross it was. Or pulled a thrower on you.

“As well you shouldn’t,” Ezra chuckled, turning his head to grin at the girl where she had turned to face him on the opposite cot, “She sings like Kevva strung her throat with gold. Or the very strings of a harp.”

You blushed and ducked your head into your shoulder, embarrassed by his flattery. Looked to him and found his honey-dark eyes drinking you in from above, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he flattened his palm over your chest and rubbed it affectionately. “What would you like to hear?” you asked, running a hand over your hair and shifting on the floor to calm your nerves.

It was just Ez.

…and a girl who harbored a teen angst bigger than ten moons; fuck if you wanted her to judge you.

“Whatever tickles your fancy,” he replied, his grin wider now that you’d agreed, “You know I’m not particular to any one hymn—I find myself enraptured by it all.”

“Okay.” You pondered for a moment before settling on one of your favorites.

Then you sang.

Quietly, nervously at first in an unpracticed rasp, then growing more steady and mellow and soft.

Some swirling folk melody from your childhood in your native tongue, one you’d never forget even if someday you lost your memory. A lullaby for village children; a lilting work song for the women to hum when laundering clothes at the stream, soothing the babies strapped to their backs or their chests or both.

It told the story of a curious young girl who loved the stillness of the ocean, found peace in its silky depths. She liked the silence so much that she would spend hours beneath the water, training to hold her breath and exploring the creatures of the reef and listening to the wavering silence.

Until one humming summer night she swam so deep the water turned black. She was scared she wouldn’t be able find her way back home but she reveled in the quiet—the quiet that not even the nighttime forest could provide, nor the village when the hunters and scavengers left for work. It was then that she saw a light shining from the deep, and decided to chase it.

Down, down, down.

And down. Until the light became so bright it surrounded her, seeped into her until she did not know where she began and it ended. No pain, no fear surrounded her. Just a sense of calm, and peace.

And she became the moon, the biggest one in the sky. The silence up there was incomparable.

The song was meant as a warning to the village children not to wander too far from the town and somehow find themselves in the cove breaching the outer mountain range. A warning to stay away, else you’d become one of the many moons in the sky, never to return to your family and the life you loved.

But you’d always found it more compelling than that, more meaningful, because the story originated from a similar legend of the moon goddess your village worshipped, the deity of the biggest satellite in your skies. The minor difference came in the detail that she chose to become the Great Moon after divine conversation instead of chasing a light down into the deep on a whim. And there was a ceremony held to initiate her transition into a celestial body.

When you’d wrapped up the lullaby you found yourself more at peace than you’d felt in a long time. You didn’t like to think about your planet, nor your village, nor the tragedies that occurred there. But this memory was a happy one, filled with sleepy eyes and chubby fingers grabbing onto mothers’ cloaks, and getting tucked into warm soft blankets by a fireplace.

“Sweet siren,” Ezra whispered in a drowsy slur, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he turned to rest on his back, “Never fail to soothe me even when ’m in utmost anguish.”

And with that, he left you in silence, and you knew he wasn’t far from sleep.

By the time his breath evened out, you felt your eyes drooping.

Fuck, you were exhausted.

This spin had been arguably more eventful than any you’d had in a long while, and it didn’t occur to you that you could be tired when you’d hardly done much until the action rolled in.

The floor was actually not half bad, given that you laid on the tarp that absorbed heat but quickly cooled when you moved. The nights here got cold, surprisingly. But Ezra’s hand hanging down and resting across your chest felt so good. The weight of him, the heat of him, it grounded you. You circled patterns into his upturned palm until you became too sleepy for that, settling on threading your fingers with his and feeling his pulse beneath your fingertips.

How dare he think you’d care for him less with only one arm? If anything, it showed his perseverance, his will to move forward and make hard decisions. Only something a man with determination could do.

He felt so warm and sure—steady. He was safe now that he had come back. You felt the inky black of sleep begin to wash over you as organized thought became jumbled feeling.

You didn’t have to worry anymore, not about his whereabouts. Everything was alright. It was as good as it had been in quite a while.

Everything would be alright, you could just…

Just…

“I wish my parents had loved each other like that,” Cee murmured in the quiet dark of the tent, rendering you wide awake with a jolt, as if someone had plunged a shot of adrenaline into your chest.

“They separate?” you managed, knowing it came out strange but not wanting to confirm or deny anything about you and Ezra. The silence that greeted you implied that she had had no intention of you hearing it. But she spoke regardless.

“No,” she scoffed, then went quiet for a moment, “My mom died when I was little. And I can’t remember what they were like together. We were always working so there wasn’t a lot of time for love between them.”  

Oh. An orphan. It softened you a little more for her, made you more sympathetic to the fact that Ezra had killed her last living parent. You were an orphan too. So was he.

“We’re all missing parts of our family in some way or another. People with worldly attachments don’t usually sign up for this level of intensity. Not the strays, anyhow.”

“But you have each other,” she insisted.

“By chance alone. We didn’t start off liking each other. And we’re not…married, or anything.”

The last bit came out strangled—you’d never…said something like that aloud.

You and Ezra, married? It was odd, to say the least. You never thought of yourself as one to desire marriage in any respect—ceremonial, legal, the like. It just didn’t sit well with you. Too many complications, a lot of governing body involvement that you didn’t care for.

And Ezra…he wasn’t too fond of it either. But not because he didn’t want it, that much he’d admitted to you one night after admitting the complications of his feelings on his love life, ones that somewhat contradicted the first time he told you about it all; he couldn’t have it, he’d never let himself believe even a fraction of him deserved it. The life of a floater—and sure, just as Cee’s parents had prospected and been married (you assumed) and had a kid, many others did the same. But then you supposed it ended with kids like Cee, and she was lucky to not lay dead next to her idiot father, or trapped and sold as a body in the Dark-Spawn Trades. Lucky Ezra wasn’t filthy and depraved, lucky you were once young and scared like her and so took it upon yourself to keep her in your sights for now.

“How’d you meet?”

A chuckle bubbled out of you as you sat up and ran your fingers through Ezra’s hair, watching his chest rise and fall in even strokes, thinking back on that night so long ago.

“Stealing supplies from the same drop company. Two feral dogs fighting over who deserved it more. We bickered and threatened so much we lost track of time and made a mess and a ruckus and got caught.” A smile threatened to break your features and you let it, for just a moment. It faded as you recalled your awful encounter, “Captured, tortured for information because they thought we worked for a rival mining company. They wanted the locations of dig-sites we didn’t have, mining techniques we didn’t know. When he brought up the Wastes earlier…that’s what he meant. Surprised we didn’t die, but they really thought we were valuable or something.”

You gave yourself a minute before continuing. In a panic, you rubbed circles over the tattoo on the web of Ezra’s hand between his thumb and forefinger, trying to ground yourself as wicked, blood-specked memories flooded your head.

Deep breath. You’re safe, he’s here. This will be good to get off your chest. You’ve never spelled it out to anyone before. Nobody’s ever asked. Maybe this girl is a gift from the universe, maybe she was sent here to give you space to heal. Deep breath. You’re safe. He’s here.

You eventually pressed the back of his limp hand to your cheek, and found your voice once more. You didn’t need to worry about waking him; once he conked out into REM sleep it took a freight train to wake him up. At least, when he was with you he always slept deeper. He’d told you one night; how it helped to have you there, like you dragged all the bad memories and nightmares away, pulling them so far out of reach he only found thoughtless, worry-free sleep.

“Hearing someone’s screams from the other side of a cell wall makes you more susceptible to care about them. A bonding experience, so to speak. He’d talk to me for hours on the nights they made us sit and anticipate another session. Recited poetry, recalled stories from his time as a prospector as an escape from our reality. I would sing for him, when we knew the guards had left. It was how we got to know each other. It’s—that’s why he calls me his siren. The reason I call him a chatterbox, among other obvious explanation.”

“How’d you get out?” Cee asked, resting her cheek on her hands as she laid on her side, watching you with keen interest.

“Killed them,” you rasped, not wanting to go into the gory details, “Every single one.”

For nights you had laid awake, haunted by memories of blood staining your only pair of clothes, blood splattering into your mouth, chunks of brain matter on Ezra’s gloves as he dragged you through a maze of tents and established buildings, viscera on your recovered suit, the way you’d had to swallow bile back down your esophagus at the sight of all the lives you’d taken. But you had to do it; it’s what you told yourself when the images would replay every time you closed your eyes.

Vengeance, necessity, paired with Ezra’s seemingly insatiable bloodlust—and your own. Your own shameful desire to incite violence, one you bred in the early years of your youth and had stuffed away until needed.

But you hadn’t been able to deny that, when Ezra shot a man who’d pinned you to the ground and then finished him off with a knife spurting blood out his neck, it stirred your blood something wild. Hearing him panting through the transmitter, grunts and curses as he tore through humans and humanoids and alien creatures alike right beside you. Hearing him call out targets, watching your six, taking single-word direction from you when you did the same.

They worked like a well-oiled machine, like you two had never not known the other. And he was sloppy in his technique, grounded more in brute force than strategy—but you made up for that in quick, evasive maneuvers and stealth. Both of you had near-perfect aim and could work around the clunky gear of your suits.

Messy—pools of blood, the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage crushed beneath your hands and your feet and your knife and whatever other weapon you scavenged along the way.

It felt like a ritual. A baptism of carnage that ensured neither one of you could live without the other.

So of course, when it all was over and the last vertebra snapped—

—there had been filthy, unhinged, surely unsanitary, bio-hazardous fucking in a tent surrounded by carnage.

Fucking in way you could only describe as feral.

Unrestrained.

Hot, Kevva’s saints was it brutally hot and so needy—but also so, so tender.

Full of soft emotion. Unspoken, even for Ezra’s standards. Almost loving.

Your aching bodies, exhausted and weak and battered, dragged lazily against one another once both of you had ceased the initial writhing pace of passion and the adrenaline ebbed. It tasted tinny like blood and musky like spit and salty with sweat and tears, and if nothing more, it was real. Whispering about how fuck, they’d made it and god, they were on the same level, we made it, baby—can’t live without you, I need you I need you I need you—

That day was quite possibly your favorite memory as well as one of your darkest. The day that you knew, in the charred, most twisted part of you, that you’d follow this man to the ends of every planet, to the far reaches of the universe—and he’d very well do the same.

Of course, you shared none of that with Cee.

“We took down the main base of the entire company. They were small but well-endowed. Got to transfer points into our accounts and sort through the mining equipment and the food,” you offered instead after a long bout of silence, “And the spoils of their labor. We were rich, could have retired early.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You debated whether to lie or tell her the truth, deciding on the latter. This girl wasn’t a threat, she genuinely wanted to know. “Ezra and I have—had a certain…interest in finding thrill wherever we can.”

Cee quirked an eyebrow, and you elaborated, “It’s not something to romanticize, we certainly weren’t smart about our spending. Gambling, drugs, slingshot scooter racing, smuggled creature ring-fights. The risk makes winning worth it. It was addicting. We earned a lot. Uncountable amounts of money. But we spent it all and then spent more. Pulled stunts that not even the most daring would try. Heists, intel-theft for enemies of certain people. We got caught up in it. Eventually drowned in a swamp of debt and unrequited favors. Got put on watchlists by the head crime syndicate and peace officers alike in the Core Worlds because we got cocky. Sloppy. So many people want our heads on a stake that we’d be better off dying out here. It’d be ironic, given the executions we deserve.”

You shuddered at the thought of Karolclan and their unusual procedures for punishment. They wanted you the most—you owed them the most. Them and Omni-Five. But Karolclan was decidedly worse.

“Why are you still mining? Wouldn’t it be easier to hide somewhere less dangerous?”

“We have debts to pay, bird,” you sighed, fond of the nickname Ezra gave her as it fit her well, “It’s the only honest work we can get without a biotracker recognizing our scans or someone realizing that the burner names and scouting codes we give them are bullshit. We work alone—no drop company, no mining corps. Until we can get our names cleared and our bio-scans off the watchlist, we can’t do shit else.”

If nothing more, Karolclan did allow debt payoff. But only if you could evade their capture, and only if you had the means to satisfy compounded interest. They were brutal, ruthless.

“He said you had a crew…and a ship…before you ended up stranded.”

“We did. A group of people like us. But you can imagine that a group of outlaws don’t always see eye to eye—buncha hotheaded criminals. Fought over aurelac, argued over fair shares, resources, everything.”

That wasn’t the whole story.

It started as a dispute over aurelac, but had quickly turned into a spat against Ezra, why he had so many successful harvests and surely he was stealing or cheating, how it wasn’t fair that you two were attached at the hip and didn’t section off when you split into groups to cover more land. In the heat of argument and the desperation of man, that had morphed into threats against you—Why don’t you fucking share her, Ezra? We all have needs and she’s barely good at the dig-sites. Put her to use somewhere else or we’ll find a use for her, and that devolved into Might take her right from under you if you don’t watch yourself, don’t be surprised if you hear her struggle tonight.

You had gotten used to the crude commentary, the snickers and wolf-whistles when you bent over, and if they had tried to somehow steal you away in the night, they’d have been reminded that you slept fully armed and showed no mercy to anyone who touched you unless they knew just where to start—and only one person did.

But that…that had not gone over well with him. It ended before you even knew what he did, and pretty soon you had a dead crewmate spilling blood over your boots while the familiar sound of throwers charging up rang in your ears, all of them pointed at the man panting beside you. The only one from the group to live and remain on the Green had been Two, and honestly you were never fond of them but weren’t surprised when they helped you and Ezra take the heat off your backs—they always teamed up with you two and they were good at what they did. It was a shame they were gone—despite their silence and threatening demeanor and sometimes uncalculated moves in a plan, they never made a move to harm either of you; they just wanted to harvest and get out like you did. Better them than Ezra, though. You’d have genuinely lost your mind if they had shown up in his stead.

“Did you kill the crew too?”

“Only a few,” you said honestly, “The others left us stranded when they realized we’d kill them next. Number Two was our only ally. Now they’re dead.”

You laid back down and put Ezra’s hand across your chest again, “Get some rest now. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. And if you choose to kill him while we sleep—kill both of us.”

You didn’t know why you’d felt compelled to say that, but revealing such a dark part of yourself to her convinced you that she’d plant a bolt in you or Ezra’s head and run. Ezra was the more likely target, given his history with the girl. It was irrational, for the most part; if she truly wanted him dead she would have let his wound kill him. Or she would have shot him sooner. But you couldn’t be too sure.

And you’d sooner die than wake up to him cold next to you.

#ezra (prospect) #ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #anya writes #ohhhh boy! a second installment #pedrostories #ezra smut #cacoethes

[lunaslovelyrambles]

It's canon that Levi is very self conscious about his handwriting since he came from Underground. BUT it's also canon that his handwriting is neat. So how about Levi writing his crush a letter but then decides not to give the letter last minute but too late! His crush saw the letter in his hand and they basically have a tug of war over the letter 💀 I hope this is okay. Thank you ❤️

of course it’s okay!! sorry for the long ass wait.. but thank you for sending this in! it’s such a cute request :)

went w a scenario bc i’m rusty with them! as always feedback + reblogs are appreciated :3

——

levi ackerman

He was screwed, wasn’t he? Yeah, he was totally, and wholeheartedly screwed. The second he felt the wavering in his heart and fluttering in his stomach he knew he was screwed.

Because Levi Ackerman - Humanity’s Strongest Soldier - has a crush.

Levi wasn’t one to focus too heavily on his emotions. Oftentimes he’d dismiss any unusual feelings without any second thought. He didn’t have time for that: any sappy, mushy feelings. He was a soldier first and foremost. That was his duty, and that was his priority above all. He should focus on the fight for humanity and that solely.

So why, why was he so hellbent on getting your attention?

Because he liked you, that’s why. But he didn’t want to admit it. He could die at any second and so could you. Like hell he’d want to form a relationship under those conditions.

Still, pushing his feelings toward you aside didn’t help in the slightest. Every day as he watched you laugh with some of the other cadets he felt his hand clench around his cup. He wanted to sit by your side, hear your beautiful laughs and be with you goddamnit.

Why was this so hard? Why was liking someone romantically so hard?

These thoughts permeated his mind as he stared at his paperwork. His pen had been sitting on the table for quite a while now as he thought, once again, about you. He had long forgotten about what he needed to get done for the night and was purely lost in his thoughts.

Should he tell you? No- what if you rejected him? He’d be crushed and not only that but things would be awkward then.. but what if you said yes? Then he could finally get this off his chest and-

He groaned heavily as he laid his head on his desk, causing some of the papers to crinkle underneath. He couldn’t stop the thoughts from growing louder and louder in his mind. They were all too loud and distracting for him to do anything.

But he couldn’t just go and confess! That wasn’t the kind of person he was! He wasn’t the type to just do something like that.. To him, it was way too embarrassing.

As he laid with his head on his desk an idea suddenly entered his mind. One that would save him some embarrassment while also conveying his feelings perfectly. Well, less embarrassing than directly confessing that is.

A letter.

He could write you a letter. The perfect way to confess his feelings. He could write exactly what he wanted and completely avoid the awkwardness of him telling you. It was only an added plus thay writing a letter was seen as sweet and romantic to most people.

Levi finally picked up his pen and started writing on a new, clean sheet of paper.

-x-

It had been several days since he initially came up with the idea to write you a letter and Levi still hadn’t written one that he liked.

Several balled up sheets of paper could be found stacked in his garbage can, and even more burned in the fireplace.

For some reason he just couldn’t get the wording right. Every time he wrote it it just didn’t seem... right. It didn’t feel good enough, it was too blunt, it was too wordy. Every draft he was just unhappy with. And he kept trying only to be continuously dissatisfied.

He sighed as he set his pen down another time. He looked at the singular sheet of paper and began to reread it.

“Dear (Y/N),

I just wanted to say that - ”

“Whatcha got there?”

Levi nearly fell out of his seat. Standing in the doorway was none other than you. And you were very curious to know what he was holding. For a split second he thought about balling it up and chucking it at you, but his body reacted quicker and shoved it into his desk drawer.

“Why didn’t you knock? Didn’t you learn any manners?” he quickly retorted, but he was still caught off guard by your entry thus causing his words to come out quicker than he would have liked.

You rose an eyebrow and walked further into the room, closing the door behind you.

“I did. Several times actually,” you responded, “What was that paper you shoved into your drawer?”

He swallowed thickly. It would be hard for him to maneuver his way out of this one.

“Why are you here? Do you have something to report?”

“...no. But you haven’t really been out of your office all day. Now answer my question.” As you spoke you inched closer to his desk before standing on the side - the one closest to the drawer with the paper in it.

He didn’t answer. Shit. You were not gonna let this go.

He half expected you to keep harassing him with questions until he either forced you out or gave in. But you chose a third option, which was one he wasn’t expecting.

Which was shoving yourself between him in the drawer, effectively blocking him as you grabbed the letter out. Luckily for him, he regained some sort of mind to fight with you for the paper as it left the drawer.

You tugged on one end and he grabbed the other, neither of you showing any sign of letting go. He really started to begin to regret training you to be so strong.

As he gave one harsh tug, and you doing the same, the letter finally ripped in half from the tension. He had the top half and you had the bottom.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you always go through other people’s stuff without permission?” he looked down at the paper and back up at you. Naturally he was angry with you for taking out the letter without asking, but when he looked up at you his anger slowly dissipated.

Your mouth was slightly parted and your cheeks were slowly heating up as you finished the letter. Your eyes then flickered from the letter up to him. You turned around the letter to face him and pointed at the words on the bottom.

“I really like you, (Y/N), and I’d love to go out with you sometime.”

“Is this... for me?” you softly asked. His mouth formed a thin line as he avoided your gaze, his cheeks now dusted with a faint pink. There was no way he could say no, it wasn’t for you, because your name was literally on the note.

He was beyond embarrassed. He was mortified. His feelings were out in the open now and there was no going back.

Just as he was about to leave the room to avoid the uncomfortable sting of rejection, he heard you giggle. The noise made him glare back at you, and it was that that made you full on laugh.

Now he really felt humiliated.

“I just can’t believe that you fought me tug of war style for this,” your laughing died down a little, “Did you convince yourself that hard that I’d reject you?”

Levi didn’t know what to think anymore.

“I mean.. kind of, yeah,” he still spoke softly, still not looking at you.

“You’d be wrong, then.”

He finally stopped looking at the floor and back at you. You were smiling at him, a big toothy smile and one that he loved seeing every day.

“I thought that letter was, like, you kicking me off your squad. So I thought ‘hey I’ll bite the bullet and take it out even if he’ll hate me for it’ or something I don’t know. I’m sorry for going through your stuff-”

Before you could finish your apology Levi had uncharacteristically pulled you into his chest. He had felt like someone crushed a building on him when you stole that letter out but now? He feels like he just got the best night sleep.

“Don’t. Don’t even worry about it. I’m.. glad you took it. It’s okay,” he smiled into your shoulder as you returned the hug.

Maybe he’ll write you letters more often.

——

masterlist || rules page

#aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you

[its-deputy-caleb]

Hey hey!!

I pretty sure you know what I'm here for, so I'll give two options, that way there is no pressure and you can choose whichever you feel in the mood for!!

Soft Micah, where he's drunk and feeling insecure and tells the reader why he loves them and how much they mean to him, ending with the reader being the big spoon and cuddling the rat man as he cries himself to sleep.

OR

Soft Sadie, where she confides in the reader about when she first joined the gang, how she felt when her husband was murdered, and how she never thought she'd find love again until she met the reader.

No pressure to do either! I will leave it in your talented and capable hands.

Don't forget how amazing you are and how much joy you bring with your writing.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

sksksks you know i'm gonna do both bc i love both these asks and soft clingy micah is my literal favourite. this is a total unedited mess but its my total unedited mess and i'm just the biggest sucker for making him all mushy so pls enjoy whatever the hell this is <3333.

(ill do the sadie ask in a different post and put the link here!)

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

Today was particularly strange, not because anything extraordinary happened but because your sweetheart, Micah, was nowhere to be seen.

Sure he had a tendency to run off on jobs and you couldn’t spend all hours of the day together but it was unlike him to leave you to wake up alone in your shared tent.

All day he’d avoided you. Normally you’d get a coffee and slowly wake up together, planning out your day which usually involved planning your next job together but Micah was no where to be found when you woke up with nothing but blankets around you.

He wasn’t loitering around the outskirts of camp, nor was he by the campfire cleaning his weapons. It was if he well and truly disappeared, but you knew who Micah was and you knew if he didn’t want to be found he wouldn’t be.

With that you left your search, busying yourself with chores and helping around camp and knowing that Micah would make his appearance when he wanted to be found. It was merely a matter of time, nothing more.

-

The first thing you noticed when you were returning to camp from doing a late night run into town for ammunition was that Baylock had been hitched with the other horses, something that wasn’t there this morning.

Your eyes scanned around camp, noticing instantly that the flaps to your tent were pulled shut which only happened when either of you were in there. You placed down the crate of ammo you were carrying, dusting your hands before walking over and slowly opening the flaps to let yourself inside.

The first thing you noticed was Micah sitting up abruptly with that sounded like a sniffle. He shuffled around, clearly trying to make himself presentable. Slowly, you held your hands out to him, clearly reading the almost heavy feeling to the room.

“Hey now… been looking for you, where’d you go?”

You sit down beside him, keeping your voice soft as if you were calming a spooked horse. You notice amongst the pillows and blankets the empty bottles of whiskey and his green neckerchief which was stained with his tears.

“Oh Mikes, c'mere…”

You wrap your arms around him, hearing a choked sob slip from him as you run your hands through his stringy hair. Your other hand slips under his disheveled and unbuttoned shirt to rub slow circles along his back as he cried into your neck.

Sobs and little whimpers leave him as you hold him, littering soft kisses in his hair and shushing him as best you could.

“It’s alright Micah... I’ve got you now.”

You pull him back slightly, holding his face in your hands as your thumb wiped away his tears that kept falling from his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, just let it out sweetheart— I’m here.”

You watched as his bottom lip quivered and other rush of sobs fell from his mouth. He buried his face back into your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you as if you’d ever let him go.

“You should go somewhere...anywhere but here— don’t know why you put up with an ugly old sod like me. Yer too good for me— deserve someone better— don’t waste yer time with me.”

Micah’s voice cracked at least twice, his words broken up with sobs and cries as he spilled out exactly what had been bothering him all day.

Your heart broke when you heard him, wrapping your arms around his back as you held him flushed against you.

“Hey hey don’t you say that, you are enough for me okay? I love you and there’s no one I love more in this world than I do you.”

Micah shakes his head, burying his face in your shoulder even further as tears soak your shirt.

“Look at me Micah…”

Slowly and reluctantly he pulls away, resting his elbows on either side of your legs as he still attempts to hide in your chest. You brush the hair from his temples that had been stuck down by streaks of tears, gently tucking his hair behind his ears as you waited for him to look at you.

“I want you to know that you’re not a waste of time… every day I get to spend with you makes me happy— you make me happy Micah.”

The look Micah gives you is one of pure hope and adoration. His crisp blue eyes are wide as you speak, the colour deepened from all the redness surrounding them. More stray tears fall from the corners of his eyes although they’re much softer now, his sobbing slowing to something more tame as he listens to your soothing voice.

You lean down, placing a gentle kiss to his lips and you note how he’s obviously chewed at his bottom lip sometime today. Micah practically melts into you, clearly in his softer clingy mood which always followed him whenever he got emotional and insecure.

Sitting up, you trace the scar on his chin as he leans into your hand like a scared little cat caught in the rain.

“And you’re certainly not ugly.”

Micah instantly shakes his head, sitting up and trying to pull himself out of your embrace but you don’t let him get far. You come up behind him and wrap your arms around his tummy, resting your head over his shoulder as you watch him intertwine your hands together.

You kiss his cheek, leaning your head against his as you cuddle him.

“Yes you are— you’re my pretty boy, my sweetheart, my Mikey.”

You can hear him smile although he tries to hide it under his hair that’s flopped in front of his face that also served to hide the blush he had.

For a while you sit together just like that. Micah aimlessly fiddles with your fingers in his lap while you watch from over his shoulder, occasionally leaning down and pressing kisses all over his neck and shoulder.

“Love you too ya’know…ya always know the right things to say and ya always know how to make me feel loved. I’m real lucky to have you— even when I don’t deserve you, I’m a real lucky man indeed.”

Micah practically fidgets with your hands through his whole little confession and you squeeze them to reassure him, something he happily returns with desperate squeezes of his own.

“I love you more than you could kno—“

A yawn cuts through Micah’s words, his exhaustion (and whiskey) finally catching up to him as he leans into your hold. The sound makes you giggle, his yawn always making you smile at just how adorable it was no matter how badly he denied it.

“Common sleepyhead, bet you’re real tired.”

Again he looks at you with those wide hopeful eyes, although this time they’re much more sleepy as you roll him to lie down with you. You shuffled the empty bottles to the corner of the tent, placing his neckerchief beside his hat so the two of you had more room.

“You’ll stay?”

You smile, giving him a soft kiss before draping the blanket over the two of your and spooning up behind him. Usually he’d protest at being the little spoon but not today. Now Micah is nothing short of exhausted and you knew, without him having to say it, that he just needs to be cuddled and littered with affection.

“Course I am, won’t find me anywhere else but right here with you.”

You kiss the back of Micah’s neck before burying your face into his shoulder blades. Your hands ran soothing circles over his tummy and chest, waiting and feeling his breath even out. You didn’t move until you heard his soft snoring, finally allowing yourself to fall asleep too with a smile on your face and your arms wraps protectively around Micah.

Eventually, at some point in the night Micah had rolled to tuck his head in your neck and you woke with a large amount of dribble stuck to your shirt (something that made Micah go the colour of a tomato) but you didn’t mind a bit as long as he knew just how much you loved him.

#soft micah is my FAV #micah bell #micah bell x reader #soft micah hours #soft rat 🥺🥺🥺 #micah bell imagine #rdr2 #rdr2 writing #rdr2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2