#but i can see the crows protesting

[toolazytodecide]

I've seen some people theorise that Netflix Wylan has been out of his fathers house longer than book Wylan, which makes me wonder what that means for Alys.

Wylan's father turned on him when he found out his wife was pregnant with a replacement. If Wylan escaped years ago that would mean the baby would have been born. Which doesn't work plot wise, but imagine Wylan having a brother he's never met because of his father's cruelty.

[redwinterroses]

It's not like it's hard to get Tango taking about Decked Out, but buy him a couple of potions in the museum speakeasy and he gets downright confessional.

Grian leans across the stat poker table, his wings rustling eagerly. "Truth or dare, Tango," he says. "Is Decked Out... alive?"

“Aren’t I supposed to pick truth or dare before you ask the question?” Tango tosses back another potion and gives the group a half-smirk.

“We all know you’re going to pick truth because you’re too particled to get up.” Etho’s face is obscured, but they can hear the laugh in his voice and see his fox ears twitch with amusement. “So spill.”

Tango shrugs. "Well," he says, "It's not exactly not NOT alive, if you know what I mean."

Grian glances at Doc on his right and Etho on his left. They shrug at him.

"Yeah, no," he says, looking back at Tango. "I don't think we know what that means."

"Is it like that Grumbot robot that Mumbo and Grian built?" Doc asks, scratching thoughtfully at his chin, his blunt black claws scritching loudly against the stubble of his beard. Grian tries to catch a peek at his stat tokens and gives a sheepish grin when Doc notices and quickly angles them away.

"Hey, now," Doc starts to say, but Tango interrupts.

"Nah, no -- I mean, Grumbot was pretty... Simple. No offense."

"None taken." Grian pulls a token from his stack. "Number of villagers traded with," he offers. "And I'll up the ante to three diamond blocks, gentlemen."

Tango lays down his own token, and taps a finger on it in an aimless rhythm. “The dungeon is… aware,” he says. “Not alive, I guess, but it knows things. It recognizes people.”

“I’ve noticed,” Etho says dryly. “That place hates me.”

They all laugh, but Tango shakes his head. “Does it hate you?” he asks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or does it want to impress you?”

“Oh, I’m impressed enough.” Etho drops his stat token on the table with a soft click. “So it can stop glitching and trying to kill me now.”

“Aww, you’re just playing hard to get.”

Doc lays his tokens down on the table and stands. “I will sit out this round, I think,” he says. “I have done almost nothing with villagers this season. Will anyone have more to drink?”

“I’m not playing hard to get!” Etho protested, ears lying flat. “If anything, I’m playing easy to get – I just walk right in there!”

“You heard it first here, folks,” Tango says. “Etho’s easy.”

He ducks, but not in time to dodge the rolled-up napkin Etho chucks at his face. It lands in his hair and goes up in a miniature whump of flame.

Grian snickers, waving away smoke.

“So if the dungeon’s not alive, but it’s not quite not alive,” he says. “How does one maybe go about… making friends with it?”

“That,” Doc says, thunking a fresh bottle of Cub’s custom-mixed potion onto the table. “Is cheating, you pesky bird. No flirting with the possibly-not-not-alive dungeon.”

“You’re telling me you’re above flirting for a few extra keys and crowns, Doc?” Tango asks with teasing skepticism.

Doc sniffs, flipping the cork from his bottle with his thumb. “I don’t need flirting,” he says dismissively. “I have skills. Game strategies, man.”

“He’s already planning how to get the dungeon’s attention.” Etho flips his token over, exposing the total. “Aren’t’cha, Doc.”

Doc tips back his drink and shrugged. “Eh… that is for me to know, and you to worry about.” He winks.

“Tango, what’s your total there?” Grian fiddles with his token.

“Well, I know it’s higher than old three-digit Minecraft master over here.” Tango holds up his token and pinches it between his fingers. “Under three hundred, Etho? What’ve you been doing all season?”

“Not hiding out in a hole for thirteen months,” Etho grumbles good-naturedly, pushing his diamonds into the center of the table.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I have been doing and look at that stat.” Tango displays the count. “Seven k, baby – read ‘em and weep.”

Grian makes an exaggerated sad face that immediately morphs into a triumphant grin. “Rookie numbers, fellas,” he crows. “Try over twelve thousand.”

Tango groans and rolls his diamonds toward Grian with a grimace. “Yeah,” he says. “Definitely not telling you how to flimflam my dungeon, you shyster.”

“Tango, I’m hurt.” Grian, entirely unbothered and very un-hurt looking, scoops the pile of diamonds into his pouch. “My stats are all ethically earned.”

“And that’s how your dungeon runs will be too.” Tango stashes his tokens and stands. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Mostly.”

“Back to your cave, Tango?” Etho doesn’t stand, but his bushy white tail wags a little in barely-contained excitement. “So, Decked Out will be open again… soon?”

“You bet your foxy good looks,” Tango says. “Or… maybe don’t. Not with those stats.”

This time he does duck the thrown napkin.

He exits through the museum, the laughter of his friends fading behind him as he steps out into the cool afternoon air. For a moment, he stretches, shaking out his elytra and clearing his head a bit of the potion particles.

Is Decked Out alive?

Tango grins, sharp teeth glinting. Of course the dungeon’s alive, who’s he kidding? And she’s hungry, too, he can feel it even from here. His friends should just be grateful he’s only ever built friendly monsters that want to devour them.

“On my way,” he mutters to himself. Or the dungeon. “And Etho’ll be coming over soon too.”

He feels the dungeon’s excitement.

“Oh…you’ve gotta be kidding me.” Tango launches himself in the air and spirals over the shopping district, angling toward Decked Out and laughing so loudly the sound bounces off the buildings below.

His dungeon totally has a crush on Etho.

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter Two - An Understanding

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Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me. No promises for future chapters though.

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

The captain looks at you for a long moment, dark blue eyes wide with surprise as he takes you in. You have to admit that he’s handsome, dark brown hair and well-groomed facial hair (muttonchops, no less) flecked with silver, and a nice nose that skews to the large side. It gives him a friendly, approachable demeanour, despite the weight of his stare. His heavy attention shifts from you to the other three, and his expression turns serious. “Lads,” he says, his voice a rumble that you can feel through your own body. “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Weeeel. It might be,” Johnny says apprehensively. “But I did my research, sir. She’ll be perfect for ye, ye’ll see.”

“She’s a good girl,” Ghost adds. “Sweet as can be. Won’t be any trouble for you.”

“Already moved her in and everything.” Gaz gestures around the room, looking rather too proud of their work.

The captain nods slowly, taking in the new additions to the space. “So you did. And did this pretty little thing agree to having her life upended, or did you lads just decide for her?” His arms shift around you, and you feel almost protected, oddly enough, even though by the size of him, he’s just as dangerous as the others. Probably even more dangerous, the way they defer to him, standing in a line like cadets, eager for his approval.

“Not… Not exactly,” Gaz admits. “I mean, we didn’t ask. But this’ll be better for her. She was living in a real rat hole before. Tiny little apartment in a shite neighbourhood. Was only a matter of time before something bad happened. We’re just looking out for her.”

Johnny shuffles his feet. “Dealt with a few neds while I was doin’ reconnaissance, even. Poor lass coulda been in real trouble if I hadna been there. Bawbag employers would ask her to stay past the last bus to watch the bairns an’ no’ even offer her a ride or ta pay fer a cab.”

“It wasn’t that far a walk,” you protest, glaring at Johnny. As if it’s any of his business. “And they did offer to drive me, I just wasn’t— It doesn’t matter! You had no right—”

The captain shushes you, and your words wither on your tongue, your cheeks turning hot under his stern blue gaze. He cups your jaw and turns your head to face him again, the rough pad of his thumb stroking your cheek gently. “Sweetheart, you and I will talk in a moment. Soap’s right about that not bein’ safe, and you know it.”

Your stomach flutters nervously. He gives you a little smile, and his crow’s feet deepen, the lines fanning out further. There’s a moment where you’re tempted to smile back, but his legs shift under you, and you wince sympathetically instead. “Sorry, I should get off of you,” you say quickly. “I’m heavy.”

“I won’t stop you if you’d like to sit somewhere else,” he says, that cheeky smile deepening more. "But you’re not heavy, and I'd like it if you stayed put."

"Told ye he'd like her," Johnny whispers, loud enough that it shatters the isolated pocket of reality that, for a moment, housed only you and the captain. "Hasna even introduced himself an' he's flirtin' like mad."

"Soap!" Gaz hisses back. "Shut up."

Ghost scruffs them both. "Let's finish getting dinner on. Give 'em a minute to talk."

Johnny grins at you and gives you two thumbs up as he circles around to the kitchen, as if you’d actually been a willing participant in all of this.

"I'm John, by the way," the captain says, calling your attention back to him. He drops his hand and settles it on your knee, his fingers curling around the joint. "You alright, doll?"

A loaded question. "Well. Not really."

"You're keepin' it together real nicely, all considered. Wouldn't blame you if you were hissin' and scratching."

"I'm not much of a fighter," you admit. "And even if I was, I don't think it would do me much good."

John chuckles, squeezing your knee lightly. He's gentle, but there's power in those hands, the kind that comes from years of hard work. There's scars all over it, from his the tips of his calloused fingers up to the leather band of his watch, etched in evidence of violence. If there are scars further up his arms, their hidden by the buffalo plaid flannel. "No, it probably wouldn't."

"Are you going to let me go home?" you ask.

He sighs. "The thing is, doll, the boys have put me in an awkward spot here. If I let you go on home, you're going to get them in trouble, and I don't want to see that happen."

"I promise, I won't say anything, I just--"

He shushes you again, and you shut your mouth, biting your lip. "Let me finish, sweetheart. You're being so good right now because you're scared. But that's not gonna last, is it? And worse, it sounds like you don't really have much to go back to."

"I'll find a new job. I always do."

"With another family who doesn't appreciate the work you put in? That doesn't make you feel safe?" His fingertips toy with the edge of your skirt absently, but his eyes are on your face, studying your reaction with rapt attention. This is how a rabbit must feel, pinned under the stare of a grizzly bear, frozen in place and hoping that no claws come down on top of it. "I can read between the lines, doll. That man you were workin' for made you feel so uncomfortable that you'd rather walk through a bad neighbourhood at night than get into a car with him alone."

You can't dispute it, although you're surprised he can glean so much information from half an outburst. "It wasn't like that-- He wasn't that bad."

John hums. "You're tellin' me you've had worse?"

A dozen jobs with a dozen managers or coworkers that took your silence as permission to stand too close, or put their hands on you flash across your mind. Mr. Kinsey was just the latest of many. You know that the thought is displayed on your face, from the way his eyebrows pinch together just slightly, not angrily, but concerned. You try to deflect with a little laugh. "Oh, well. I suppose I have. But hasn't everyone?"

"Soap had a bad lieutenant once and locked the man in his own car when he was just a private. Just because you have a bad boss doesn't mean you have to take it." He looks at you so seriously as he speaks, his fingers dancing distracting circles against the top of your knee, rough fingertips catching on the nylons just slightly. The heat from the arm curled around your waist bleeds through the fabric of your dress, his hand twitching slightly, like all he wants to do is take a handful of soft flesh. “You should speak up when you’re not comfortable, doll. You just need some practice standin’ up for yourself, don’t you?”

If a statement could have teeth, this one would, and you’re not sure if agreeing or disagreeing will have him closing his jaws around you. He’s probably right, you do need to do a better job of standing up for yourself. But you’re certain that he doesn’t want you to start by standing up to him, or his three attack dogs either. “I’ll work on it,” you say meekly. You test his commitment to the statement by gently picking his hand off of your knee, although there’s nowhere to really put it either.

“We’ll work on it,” he agrees, lacing your fingers together. When he rests your now-entwined hands, it’s a little further up your thigh. “You want a drink, darlin’?”

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You wouldn’t mind another tea, but you don’t think that’s what you’re being offered.

The scrutiny he puts you under is intense, like he’s determined to figure out what every microscopic shift in your expression might mean. “You sure, doll? You gotta ask if you want somethin’, or you won’t get it.”

“I would like a tea. But I can make it, I don’t want to be trouble.”

“Nonsense. Lads?” he tips his head back slightly.

“On it, sir,” Gaz replies cheerfully.

Ghost leans over the back of the couch to hand John a tumbler. Whiskey or scotch, by the sharp smell that hits you. John pulls his hand away from yours to accept the glass. “Thank you, Simon,” he says pleasantly. "Good lad."

“S’your party, sir. An’ you’re busy, ain’t you?” Ghost rests his hands on the back of the couch and studies the pair of you, dark eyes gleaming with pride. The man has the demeanour of a cat that’s brought in a helpless little bunny to his master, while it’s still alive and struggling.

“Gettin’ to know our pretty guest.” John smiles at you over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Isn’t she just?”

“Could I, um, sit over there?” you ask, glancing at the chair. Somehow John had managed to distract you from the idea of moving for a while, but you were still eager to get a little space from him, especially with Ghost looming over both of you.

“Of course, sweetheart,” John’s arm loosens, and you quickly get up and move to the chair.

You almost feel cold, without the heat that radiates off of his body. His attention feels weightier now too, or maybe it’s just that his body isn’t shielding the stares from Johnny, Gaz and Ghost, and you’re subjected to all four of them watching you, like you’re either fascinating or delicious (or both). You cross your arms over your chest and shrink into yourself as much as possible, eyes wide.

"Here's yer tea, hen. And may I just say, ye've go' a fantastic rack from this angle." Johnny hands you the mug and sits on the arm of the chair, leaning over you. "Weel. Ye've go' a nice rack from any angle. Nice arse too. Captain's lucky I like him so much, or I'd've gone for you myself."

You breathe in steam, wrinkling your nose slightly. It doesn't smell quite right. "Did you put something in this?"

"Aye. Finger of whiskey. Ye look all stiff and peaky still. Need a pick me up, don't ya?"

You look at him reproachfully. He sighs and plucks the tea from your hands and takes a big sip. "There's nothin' else in there, if that's what yer askin', ye suspicious wee daftie. A little whiskey ne'er hurt no one." He hands the mug back to you, smile crooked, doing his best to be charming, but he's too intense, too fervent, to be anything but unsettling.

“Got Johnny checkin’ everythin’ for poison, do you?” Ghost asks, chuckling. “Can’t say I blame you.” He nudges John with the back of his hand. “She’s smart, worth keepin’ an eye on that. Know’s ‘ow to ‘old ‘er tongue, but she’s listenin’ and payin’ attention.”

“Of course she is! Wouldna choose a lass withoot a brain in her head. Wouldna be worth the captain’s time. Weel, maybe worth a wee bit of time.” He winks down at you. “But no’ wife material, ye ken. Chose her because she’s delightful, no’ just ‘cause she’s bonnie.”

The few times you’d spoken to Johnny before you’d thought that he was so nice. Laughing and joking with you in the pick up line while you waited for the children you were respectively responsible, greeting his niece and nephew with big smiles. And Finn and Rory were always so excited to see him, you’d chalked him up as harmless. Clearly you hadn’t been paying enough attention then, too focused on the Kinsey kids and your job, maybe. You hadn’t noticed that he was appraising you like a piece of livestock, judging your value like you’d been put up to auction.

The whisky-fortified tea is a bit on the strong side, but you take a few sips anyway. Getting drunk would be unwise, but you’re so tense that your whole body is starting to ache, and that’s not doing you any good either.

“Dinner’s ready,” Gaz announces, untying his kiss the cook apron and setting it on the counter. “Hope you’re hungry. Soap made a cake earlier too.”

John raises an eyebrow. “You can bake?” he asks, surprised.

“Aye, picked it up while I was gettin’ rehabbed for the big fuck-off hole in my head,” he replies airily. “Was goin’ mental putterin’ around Kirsty’s waitin’ for the bairns to get out of school, so Ah picked it up. Isnae so hard. Just chemistry, aye?”

“He did make a big mess,” Gaz says. “Had to wash about fifty dishes before I could get started on dinner.”

“Everyone’s a fuckin’ critic,” Johnny complains. “See if I bake ye a cake for yer birthday, Garrick. Ye’ll be sorry then.”

“Oh no, how will I survive?” Gaz clutches his chest like he’s deeply wounded by the statement, laughing. “I have two mums, I’m still pretty much guaranteed a cake.”

“Always braggin’ abou’ that. Thinks he’s more evolved than the rest of us just because his da’s a woman.” He hovers next to you as you get up, and sticks close as you walk over to the table. You don’t choose a seat, in case there’s an order to things you’re not aware of.

“Pretty sure the whole point is that he dun’t ‘ave a dad,” Ghost says. “Now sit down, mutt. Yer not sittin’ next to the bird. You’re botherin’ ‘er.” He points at a chair, and Johnny sighs and slinks into it.

“Here, sweetheart,” John says, putting his big hand on your back to guide you the last few steps and directing you to a seat. He slides the chair in for you too, masquerading as a gentleman, and sits next to you.

Gaz settles in on your other side, all smiles. “Feeling better?”

They keep asking you how you are, as if the answer is going to change. Like all you need to adjust to the reality of being kidnapped and relocated to some stranger’s house in the country is a little time. Like you’re going to be just fine, if you just get a few more minutes to adjust. “Not really.”

"Ah, don't worry, doll. Captain's gonna be real good to you. You'll get there soon enough. Probably'll feel better once you've had a proper meal."

At least they don't try to make you talk much at the table. They fall into easy conversation between them, and let you eat roasted chicken and potatoes and carrots with some kind of sweet and mildly spicy glaze. Ghost pulls the mask down to eat, so you're able to watch when he goes slightly pink from what barely qualifies as spice. Gaz gives you a little side-long glance, and you almost laugh. There's some solidarity to be had, even in a situation like this one, something funny about how a little more spice could probably straight up kill the other three men at the table. Maybe that would be the key to you freedom: Murdering John by feeding him something full of chilies.

Admittedly, you do feel begrudgingly more charitable towards them after eating. You could maybe blame it on the tea too, which, against your better judgment, you do end up finishing.

John stops you from helping clean up when you stand automatically and try to stack Gaz's empty plate with your own. "No, sweetheart. C’mere." He guides you to the door and out into the chilly evening air. You wish that Ghost had let you put on a sweater over your summery dress, but he had been so keen to show you off, and you’d been too scared to insist. You curl your arms around yourself for warmth, and keep quiet, watching as John trims and lights a cigar, looking out into the darkness beyond the porch.

Fear has morphed from pressing terror to something that gnaws at you from the pit of your stomach. You could try to run for it, but you’d probably roll your ankle wearing the stupid red heels, and you have no real idea where you are, or how far you are from someone who could help you. Outrunning John would be a feat anyway. He’s older than you, but he’s in better shape, nearly perfect shape, broad and strong, that long military career not yet forgotten.

There’s a bench by the door, so you sit down to take the heels off. You’re not used to wearing them, it’s so rare that you have anywhere to go that calls for spicier footwear than your comfortable, worn in trainers.

“Here.” John slides his flannel shirt off and drapes it over your shoulders, and kneels down in front of you, cigar clamped in his mouth, pulling your heels off for you. Smoke curls around you for a moment, thin and blue in the scant light, before a breeze carries it away. He leans on his one leg and studies you, but he doesn’t stand. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You put your arms through the sleeves of the flannel, humming noncommittally. You know you’re pretty enough, by most standards, but you feel like his interest— And the interest of the other three— is disproportionate, too intense.

“I’d like you to stay a while, doll,” he continues. “I won’t force you, I’m not that kind of man, but I’d have a hard time letting you go back to living paycheck to paycheck in a bad nieghbourhood, workin’ for creeps that don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. You deserve better than that.” It’s as though he doesn’t even hear his own words though, or imagines himself better, because he absently runs his hands over your calf, squeezing the tense muscle gently.

“I have to work,” you protest, biting back a moan. You didn’t need to encourage him, even if you weren’t quite brave enough (or willing) to stop him. “I have student loans, and I send money to my lola in Vigan. I can’t afford to just disappear off the face of the earth.”

He nods thoughtfully. “How much?”

"Three hundred pounds a month to Lola. I know it might not seem like a lot, but it goes a lot further there."

"And the student loans?"

"Sixteen thousand. Not that much, I worked through my degree, and I inherited a bit of money from my parents. But I still have to--"

"I'll pay for both. You'll stay until you find a good job, and a safer apartment." He says it like it's a final edict, no room for argument.

You pull your leg out of his grip, tucking both further back under the bench. "No, John, I don't want to owe you either--"

"You won't. My boys kidnapped you and disrupted your whole life. I'd pay a lot more if it keeps you from going to the police over it. Least I can do is make sure you're better off when you do leave here, hm?"

You bite your lip. Starting over with a clean slate is tempting, but you're not sure you can trust John. He seems so earnest, blue eyes clear and guileless, but he can't be much better than the other three. Unless he was just holding their leashes tight as their captain, and had to let them loose when he retired.

"Can I think about it?" you ask.

"Of course." He puts his hand on your knee to steady himself as he leans across to ash the cigar in the ashtray that sits on a little table next to the bench. "But I think you'll say yes. You're a smart girl, hm?"

You're tempted to say no, just to test weather or not he's being honest about not forcing you to stay, but there's a niggling worry in the back of your mind that the veneer of civility will evaporate if you push him on it. He's nice enough now. And maybe that niceness isn't a show, maybe he has no darker side, maybe it's all just paranoia on your part. Perhaps the worst thing about him is his predilection to protect his "boys", even though all three are clearly insane.

Military is like that, isn’t it? The whole brotherhood thing? Maybe fighting for your life beside someone changes how you see them forever.

“How long did you all serve together?” you ask. “Johnny mentioned that he was SAS before— I asked about the scar once.” You tap the side of your head, the same spot where Johnny has a nasty bullet scar.

“Long time. Hand-picked Gaz and Soap for my taskforce about ten years back. Simon and I served together longer. He’s a captain now, even if the lads still call him LT. They’re both lieutenants, and Gaz’ll be a captain himself before long. Probably would’ve been already if he’d transferred out of the 141.” He gets up with a grunt and settles onto the bench beside you. “Don’t think Simon’s long for it. He’s only still in because he wants to keep an eye on Soap. Man’s a bloody romantic. Live together or die together.”

“I didn’t realize that they were together at all.”

“The way Soap’s been droolin’ all over you, I’m not surprised.” He puffs on his cigar thoughtfully. “But Simon’s just like that, as far as I can tell. The world’s divided into three categories. Enemies, his people, and everyone else. Enemies ‘n’ everyone else can’t touch what’s his, but he’s never given a damn about Soap sleepin’ with Gaz, or me.”

“I’m not his people.”

John looks at you and shakes his head. “Course you are, doll. You’re one of our people now. They might’ve gotten a bit overzealous, bringing you here the way they did, but those lads would do anything you asked of ‘em now.”

A bit overzealous. You laugh, but the sound comes out bitter.

"Relax, doll. I know you're determined to hate them, but they're good lads. Their hearts are in the right place." He pets a big hand over your head and rests it on the back of your neck, warmth seeping into your bones, relieving some of the ache from all the tension of the day. John has a way of soothing that terrified little animal in your chest that would otherwise threaten to kick it’s way free from your ribs and flee into the dark trees. “Lookin’ out for me, in their own way. Lookin’ out for you too. If your situation was a better one, they wouldn’t’ve plucked you out of it like that.”

There’s hope in his eyes when you look up at him, hope that you’ll forgive and forget, that you’ll come around to some kind of understanding in time. His thumb brushes a sensitive spot behind your ear, sending an awful, irrefutable thrill through you.

You’re worried that he might be right.

My favourite John Price to write is the sneakiest, most charming, manipulative bastard on the planet. I definitely take a lot of inspiration from 391780 's portrayal of him. The Rear Window and Neighborly have been forefront in my mind while working on this (Largely because I think my John would have taken a similar approach if the lads hadn't jumped the gun. The Rear Window is dark, so be warned! Early writes delicious dark fics, but that may not be everyone's cup of tea, so mind the tags.)

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[aetherdoesthings]

hello!!! i hope ur having a good day/night! can i request headcanons or fics (whatever you prefer!) of reader falling asleep because of work and the monster trio's reaction to it? thank u!!

hello!!! i hope you're having a good day/night too!

forethoughts: gonna be out of my country next week for vacation, so probably not going to upload as much, but i'll try. i hope you enjoy!! also did tumblr remove yellow from the color choices? odd.

notes: gn!reader

Luffy

“Y/N! Check it-” With a kick, the Captain of the Straw Hat Pirates stepped into your office, holding a slab of meat. His excitement plummeted as his eyes fell on you. Your head was resting on top of stacks of papers, a quill in between your fingers. Your entire body was limp against the wooden desk in the corner of the room, the lamp above your head still burning bright. 

“Y/N?” Luffy walked closer to you, his sandals thudding against the planks below. He tapped your head, shaking your shoulder, until he could see the slightest movement coming from you. 

You shrugged Luffy’s hand off of you, forcing yourself to sit up. “Luffy?”

“Why’d you fall asleep?” A small frown appeared on Luffy’s face. You knew he didn’t like you overworking yourself and filling up your time with ‘boring stuff’.

“It’s just a nap. Promise.”

“Are you overworking yourself again?”

“N-No.”

“Y/N… I already told you. If there’s too much work for you, just tell me.”

“It’s fine, Luffy.”

“No, it’s not fine. I don’t want you to overwork yourself to the point you fall asleep. Come on.” Luffy shoved the meat into his mouth, his hands wrapped around your arms as he dragged you in the direction of your shared bed. Without much protest, your head was now resting on top of pillows, a soft blanket plastered on top of your body.

“Sleep. Okay? You better be asleep by the time I come back.” Luffy pointed a finger at your face. You let out a chuckle, nodding your head. 

“Thank you.” You whispered softly.

The corner of Luffy's mouth stretched up to his eyes. "I asked you to join because I wanted to go on adventures with you, Y/N, I didn't ask you to join my crew because I wanted to see you work until you fall asleep! Please take care of yourself, otherwise we can't go on adventures anymore."

Zoro

“Oi, Y/N, it’s my turn. You can go back inside.” Zoro climbed up the crow’s nest, getting ready for his shift of watching over the ship. When he got up there, he saw you curled up into a ball on the side, fast asleep. He stared at your figure for a moment, before climbing into the circular space next to you. He flicked your forehead, gently slapping your face, to no avail. You were dead asleep, a quill balancing in between your fingers. Zoro placed a hand on your arm, retracting immediately. You were freezing cold. 

“Tch. Falling asleep on the job.” Zoro crossed his arms, staring at your unconscious body, putting his swords aside as he surveyed the scene.The inside of the crow’s nest was littered with papers and notes, an empty bottle of ink haphazardly discarded on the side. Anger and annoyance clouded Zoro’s head, the urge to wake you up and scold you for prioritizing your work over the safety of everyone. But in the cold winter night, a drop of warmth entered Zoro’s heart as he stared at your curled up figure, shivering slightly, but still dead asleep. There were heavy eyebags visible on your face, your lips cracked. The veins on your hands were visible, bulging out at Zoro.

“Damn it.” Zoro scoffed, as he reached a hand out towards you, dragging your body closer to his. He propped you up against his chest, letting you use his body heat as a source of warmth in the cold night. “Always overexerting yourself, you idiot. Should’ve brought a jacket instead of your papers. Geez. Now I gotta take care of you.” 

You were still knocked out, head resting on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro let out a scoff, placing a hand around your shoulder, warming you up. “Tch.”

Sanji

Finally done with cleaning up the kitchen and preparing the next day’s meals, Sanji headed back to the bedroom you shared with him. He tried not to make as much noise as possible; at this time, you were most likely asleep already. He stepped into your room, closing the door as quietly as he could.

“Eh?” Sanji looked at the bed. The blankets were still neatly made from this morning, pillows organized with no wrinkles. He turned his attention towards your desk in the corner of the room, a small smile on his face. At least you didn’t go missing. You were dead asleep, head resting on your left arm, your right holding onto a quill. Sanji tiptoed over, examining your sleeping figure. 

My dear Y/N… Sanji sighed, plucking the quill out of your fingers. Without waking you up, his hands curled around your neck and the back of your knees. Without breaking a sweat, Sanji scooped you up, letting your head hit the pillow before the rest of your body was on the mattress. He draped the blanket over your body, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, my love.” Sanji whispered, before heading back over to your desk. He took a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he stared at the sea of papers and ink. As the moon itself was about to go to sleep, and the sun slowly woke up, Sanji stayed there, helping you organize all your work and sort out all your notes, filling out blanks you had left or letters you needed to write. He didn’t care if he lost some hours of sleep; in a few minutes, he’d have to ‘wake up’ to start prepping the next day’s meal anyways. As long as you were well rested and taken care of, Sanji didn’t care if he would have to lose hours of sleep. 

[kpopnstarwars]

Second Chance: Jeong Yunho x Reader

A/N: i honestly feel like i went through multiple divorces writing this (also i have never written a standalone fic this long, like this is double the longest fic i've ever written, but it's huge like yunho so what can i say)

tw: alcohol, swearing, HUGE angst, eventual fluff, people are drunk, there's a party (yes that deserves a warning), gets a little smutty at the end, mention of marriage (twice), could be kinda ooc near the beginning because i started writing this within a month of stanning

wc: 5.3k

The second you step through the doorway, you're already regretting conceding so easily to Wooyoung. He's got his nagging technique perfected - you'd probably be curled up on your sofa binging your favourite movies, surrounded with snacks and fluffy blankets and the comforts of your own home if he wasn't nearly as persuasive as he is.

Instead, here you are, at a party you're not very... invested in, half sulking as San welcomes you in, wishing you were at home, watching the Star Wars prequels back to back with Seonghwa.

San is already half drunk. It's easy to tell; his face and the tips of his ears are blushed a rosy pink, and he's giggling at nothing in particular as he hangs off your shoulders, clinging onto your shirt as if he'll lose you in his own semi-crowded living room. You anticipate another five minutes of clingy San, punctuated by tipsy zoomies, before the alcohol he had (probably just a few shots, to be honest) kicks in, and he begins to feel sleepy. With practiced ease - yes, you've done this many times before - you steer him towards the sofa, grinning at Yeosang as you dump San next to him.

'Nooo...' San mumbles. 'Where are you... where...' You pat his shoulder. 'I'm not leaving yet, don't worry. Yeosang will look after you.'

Retreating into the small crowd before said man can protest at this forced role of caretaker, you wade your way over to Seonghwa and Hongjoong; greeting both, you have a quick exchange about the former's outfit - one he altered himself - before briefly summarising your wishes about watching Star Wars with the latter. In response, he nods sympathetically, but you can tell he's got his eyes fixed on a girl somewhere over your shoulder, so you move on quickly, searching for Wooyoung. Vaguely, you spot Mingi towering over almost everyone in the corner, but knowing that the one person you're trying to avoid today may be with him, you look away before your eyes seize the chance to find him.

'Look who showed up!' A voice crows behind you. You turn around, rolling your eyes. 'And whose fault is that, Woo?' 'He's looking out for you,' Jongho tells you, appearing beside Wooyoung. 'Maybe you needed to get out of the house and - ' 'And talk to you-know-who,' Wooyoung finishes. 'No,' you snap. 'Absolutely not.' He pats your head. 'Here, have a drink. Maybe after it you'll be more open to the idea.' Reluctantly, you take the cup from him. 'Thanks, I guess.'

Wooyoung and Jongho begin talking about some trend on TikTok that they're planning on roping Mingi into doing with them - in truth, it doesn't quite capure your attention as much as the tall, achingly familiar silhouette across the room does. Before you can stop it, your gaze snags on him, on the angles of his jaw and his elbows, on the curving slope of his shoulders. Inhaling sharply, you quickly look away.

And then you glance over at him again.

Just once, and just long enough to see if he's with anyone.

If he's with a girl.

You know he's perfectly capable of it. You know many people at this party who wouldn't say no to him, even if they knew it was just a rebound. You tell yourself you wouldn't really care, it wouldn't really bother you, but it would. Especially if it was her. Somewhere deep inside you, he's still yours; yours to covet, yours to touch and kiss and love.

But he's not, and he brought that upon himself.

'Hey,' Wooyoung says, waving a hand in front of your face. 'You in there?' You smack his hand away. 'I wish I wasn't.' Jongho raises his eyebrows. 'You should just talk to him, if it's bothering you that badly. It's almost been three weeks, you know.' 'Or if you don't want to talk, you can get as drunk as San,' Wooyoung adds helpfully. 'You would definitely forget everything. I don't think our Sannie even knows his own name right now.' You glance down at your cup, and your stomach twists. 'No thanks.'

Wooyoung wraps an arm around you and squeezes you tightly, smiling sadly. You know he just wants you to cheer up, and this realisation makes you painfully aware of the way you're ruining the mood, of the pity in your friends' eyes as they look at you, of the stifling press of bodies that aren't even that close to you. Handing your drink to Jongho, you tell them that you're heading to the toilet.

You take the long way around San's living room. It's partly to avoid the area that you know he is in, and partly because you can feel Mingi's eyes boring into the side of you head. Skirting around the sofa - which is somehow crammed with triple the amount of people it's designed to fit - you wave at Yeosang, who's glaring at you from where he's half squashed under San. In the bathroom, it's a lot quieter, the thumping bass from Hongjoong's playlist and the hum of voices muffled by the closed door. You glance at yourself at the mirror; you're confronted with your own slightly downturned mouth.

Well, you promised Wooyoung you'd come, not that you'd be happy about it.

After a few minutes, you deem it time for you to emerge again. Schooling your features into something a little more cheerful, you step out of the bathroom, only to be ambushed by the one and only Song Mingi. You sigh. You know what he's here to say, you know he's your friend and he means well, but still, you can't help but feel the beginnings of annoyance bubble up within you. Immediately, you push it down. None of it was Mingi's fault.

'Hi, Mingi,' you say, unable to erase the hint of tiredness in your tone. 'How are you?' He asks, concern bleeding into his features. 'I'm doing alright,' you reply, knowing he sees through you easily enough. 'Haven't been sleeping too well, though.' Scratching the back of his head, he looks at you apologetically. 'Look, you know what I'm going to say.' You sigh. 'Go on.' 'You're both my friends,' he sighs. 'It sucks to see you both sad. Yunho's been beating himself up about it for weeks, ever since it happened, and... I know you miss him too. Please, just give him a second chance.'

You blink. It's the first time someone's mentioned him by name tonight, and the pain wells up in you again, fresh and cutting, ripping away the hazy walls of apathy that you'd struggled so hard to build around yourself. Maybe it's fitting that Mingi is the one who causes them to crumble; before everything went to hell with Yunho, it was always you three who hung out together the most, who relied on each other and supported each other, no matter what. It was the closest thing to perfect you've had in your life.

Then Yunho had to ruin it.

He was too heavy handed when he had your heart in his grasp, he was too careless with the trust you'd put in him. Of course you miss him, of course it hurt when you tore him out from he'd been embedded in your life, nestled into the softest part of you heart. Of course you hate avoiding him, but you hate how you let him hurt you more. You refuse to let him in again, just to make the same mistake.

Slowly, you shake your head. Swallowing around the bitterness on your tongue, you look up at Mingi, a deep sadness springing up inside you at the despondency in his eyes. Your voice sounds disembodied, the words far away as you speak.

'I'm sorry, Mingi. I don't think I can do that.'

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After your talk with Mingi, you begin to see getting as drunk as San in a more favourable light. You let Wooyoung shove exactly two shots down your gullet before you realise that tonight, alcohol isn't going to help you; the shots are acrid in your throat, and the deep throb of the bass - which you normally enjoy - is beginning to give you a headache. Defeated and deflated like a rather morose balloon, you tell Jongho that you're going to get a glass of water.

You realise you've misplayed as soon as you step into the kitchen.

He's there.

Yunho.

Digging your nails into your palms, you jerk your head aprubtly to the side to avoid his eyes as they search for yours. There's no way you're backing out of the kitchen because he's here, there's no way you're so weak that you can't stand the sight of him. Determined, you turn your back to him, reaching into the cupboard to grab a glass, filling it up and sipping at the water. You can feel his eyes burning into your back, and this time you can't help yourself.

A glance over your shoulder is all it takes for the sudden onslaught of memories. Months of dates and years of friendship flash before you, tugging your heart this way and that. He stands there, propped against the counter, his brown eyes anchored on you, his lips half parted as if he's about to speak, and all you can see in him is scene after bittersweet scene: Yunho holding your waist in a crowd, Yunho dancing with you around the living room at two in the morning, Yunho making you laugh until you can't breathe, Yunho holding you tight as you cry, Yunho with his pretty lips on yours, Yunho with his beautiful hands on your body, Yunho telling you that he loves you, Yunho, Yunho, Yunho.

And then it's Yunho, bathed in morning light as he lies in bed beside you, his features serious and solemn and deceptively honest as he tells you the sweetest words you've ever heard in your life.

Finally, it's Yunho the traitor, seen across a crowded, badly lit club on the same day, Mingi beside him, disbelieving as he gapes at your boyfriend kissing a girl, a girl who is not you, who could not even be mistaken for you. You've replayed the scene many times in your head, the way he looked up, catching your eyes as you turned to walk away. He caught up with you in the street, and you had the worst arguement of your life in a seedy, dark alleyway, refusing to let him touch you as you cradled the broken pieces of your heart to your chest - it was no longer his to have.

Looking at him now, he looks different; like your Yunho, but tired. There are bags under his eyes - at least you aren't the only one losing sleep - and his hands clench and unclench at his sides, his jaw working as he searches for words. Carefully, you set your glass down on the counter, crossing your arms.

'I...' He starts, but trails off.

Something ignites in your chest as you watch him fumble over words, stumbling over unfinished sentences. Anger burns bright inside you, a potent mix of frustration and longing and bitter sorrow welling up like poison, making you want to hurt him like he hurt you, demanding retribution. All you can see his lips on hers, and it fucking stings.

'Why are you talking to me?' You ask lowly, voice frosty. Yunho takes a step closer. 'I - I'm sorry. I miss you - so fucking much. I want you back, I need you. I just wish I could make it right so we could - ' 'If you want me back so badly, why did you kiss her?' You hiss. 'Did you forget about me in that moment? Or did you just not care?' He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. 'I, I know I fucked up, badly, and - '

You scoff. You're too angry, too raw, to care about the anguish on his face. He doesn't understand: he doesn't understand that he broke your trust and your heart and you, he doesn't understand that his apology is too late - it was late the moment he touched that girl.

'Fucked up badly?' You snap, incredulous. 'Just badly? Do you remember what you said that morning, on the very same day, while we were still in bed? Do you remember what you told me? You said that you were really serious. You said that one day you were going to marry me. Do you know how happy I was, thinking that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me?' You throw your hands up in the air. 'Well, I guess it was all a shitty lie.'

Yunho staggers back as if you actually punched him. His eyes are wounded as they search yours, and he steadies himself against the counter, gripping it so hard his knuckles bleed white. Clenching his jaw, he stares at you, speechless, and you know that you succeeded in your mission to hurt him. It doesn't feel as good as you thought it would.

Then, the kitchen door swings open.

A swell of music spills inside, along with a very tipsy looking girl. Laughter floats through from the living room. Both you and Yunho just look at her, forgetting that you were arguing in San's kitchen, at a party, and she returns your gazes, bewildered as she looks between the two of you.

'Uh, sorry, I didn't know I was interrupting something. I'll, I'll come back later?' You force yourself to smile, despite it being the expression your features least want to make right now, your voice surprisingly steady. 'Don't worry, you're alright, come in. We should probably go somewhere else.' 'Yeah,' she mumbles, quickly retreating and firmly shutting the door despite your words.

You glance over to Yunho. His hands are shaking as he lifts them, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, and all the fight leaves you at the sight. For all the years you've known him, he's cried maybe four or five times. Your stomach churns with guilt. You caused his tears.

'Hey,' you say softly. 'Do you want to go somewhere more private?' He nods, his voice thick when he speaks. 'Y - yeah, my car's two minutes away. It's in the multi-storey car park.' 'Okay,' you sigh. 'Let's go.'

He's silent as you rinse out your glass and put it on the dish rack, wiping your hands on your trousers. Ducking your head, you weave your way to the front door, slipping past Wooyoung and avoiding Yeosang and Mingi's eyes as they stare at you, surprise evident in their features as they spot Yunho trailing you. You don't want to consider what they must be thinking at the look on his face. There's no chance that they won't miss the pain in his expression, and you feel sick, burdened with the knowledge that you were petty enough to sharpen your words to deadly points and wield them like weapons.

You remain silent as you walk with him to the car park - he doesn't keep in step with you, instead hovering a few paces behind. The quiet swallows you whole, smothering any rage left in your system, and you hold the lift for him, retreating to the opposite corner as he reaches out to press the button for the top floor. Out of the corner of your eye, you study him in the scratched mirror. Although you don't dare look up at his face, you can feel his gaze, and a lump forms in the back of your throat, thinking of how many times you've been tucked under his arm in the lift to his apartment, his long fingers stroking down your side.

Harshly, you swallow, reminding yourself that you can't let him in.

You can't open your heart, just for it to be broken again.

Despite this, you find your gaze straying over his reflection. He must have left his jacket at San's, because all he has on is his black t-shirt and jeans, the former of which is slightly damp down the front - someone probably spilt their drink on him, and the fabric clings to his skin in a way that makes you yearn to press him against the wall and kiss him until you're both dizzy. One of his hands is shoved in his jeans pockets; you desperately wish that you could slip your fingers in with his, just to feel his warmth and his skin against yours. Even under the crappy lift lights, he's beautiful, as beautiful as ever. It's how you've always seen him, how you always will.

The top floor of the car park is open, and during the time you were in the lift, it's begun to rain. You begin shivering, and out of your peripheral, you see Yunho lift his hand before he pulls it back quickly, as if he was going to reach out to you and tug you close before he thought better of it. His car is the only one there, seeing as it's well into the night, and he unlocks it as you walk towards it. Hesitating with your fingers on the passenger door handle, you pause, debating with yourself - he hovers on the driver's side, watching as you deliberate before choosing the backseat.

You don't want to admit it, but you want to be closer to him.

Within seconds, you're sitting next to him in the back of his car, and you're faced with the looming need to pick up your disaster of a conversation where you left off; raising your eyes to find his, relief washes through you to find them steady, the emotions in them whirling and a total mess, but not too overwhelming. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, bracing yourself to ask the question that's been on the tip of your tongue all night. You tell yourself that you can do this, that you can pretend this doesn't hurt as much as it does, but it's quickly proven a lie when your voice comes out weak and smaller than you'd like.

'Why - why did you do it?'

A haunted look enters his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face.'I... I don't know. She pulled me down, and I just didn't move, I just let her, because it was nice to feel wanted - ' His voice cracks. ' - even though you had always given me so much more than that. You loved me and I fucked it up. I took you for granted and - '

Harshly, he swallows, cutting himself off. His words are rushed, tight, his hands fisted in his lap as he looks away for a second, breaking eye contact and staring out into the car park as he steels himself. You're reeling from his words, from the painful honesty that laces them, like poison on a blade. There's no doubt that, even with your walls up, you still love him, because his desperation is like a knife twisted in your heart - hesitantly, you reach out, wanting to touch him, to comfort him somehow. In response, he grabs your hand, almost crushing it in his grip.

'Please,' he whispers brokenly. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I - I just need you to let me love you again. I never wanted to hurt you, I - ' 'But you did, Yunho,' you reply softly, grief making your voice thick and unsteady.

His face crumples. Bringing his trembling hands to his face, he turns away to hide the tears spilling down his face, and regret shoots through you like a bullet through the heart. Gripping his hand, you pull him to face you, but suddenly you can't stop, won't stop, tugging him closer until he's in your arms. It feels so right to share space with him, and you wonder why you ever tried to get over him and push him away when he's all you ever wanted, when he's your home. Sobs wrack his body, and you press your lips to his forehead, your own tears running down your cheeks into his hair as you tighten your arms around him.

'You hurt me, Yunho,' you choke out. 'I can't deny you hurt me. But it hurt because I loved you, and I love you now. I loved you when you kissed her, and I hated myself for it, but I guess my heart knew who it was made for, because I never stopped loving you.'

His chest heaves, a great shudder running through him, and he trembles, a giant felled by your sweet, healing words. He presses his lips against your shoulder, tasting the salt of his own tears in the wet material of your shirt; his fingers twine into your hair, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to get his words out between his rattling sobs in the strain of his voice, but he does.

'I - I missed you with every breath I took while you were gone,' he says. 'I lost the best part of me when you left. I love you, I'm a fucking fool, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - '

Gently, you press a finger against his lips, making him look up at you. His words don't matter any more, not while he's in your arms and not while you know that you should have never let him go, that you should have never let either of you try to live without the other.

'I missed you too, Yunho,' you murmur. 'And I will never stop loving you.'

At your words, he goes completely still. He's frozen for a moment, his face inches from yours. A shiver runs down his back, and his eyes dart down to your lips.

'Can I - fuck - I need - '

He's taut as a bow string, thrumming with energy, and you can see the desperation on his face - he needs your lips on his as much as he needs to breathe. And yet, he still asks. You know then, with every fibre of your being, that he's what you want, that he's the only one you'll ever want, ever love.

'Yes,' you breathe. 'Yes.'

Cold moonlight limns his features as he leans in, but there's nothing cold about the look in his eyes. One hand cups your jaw, the other cupping the nape of your neck, his long fingers warm against your skin - his breath flutters softly against your lips before he closes the gap between you. The breath is knocked from you; he's never kissed you with this sort of aching tenderness, and you sink into his touch, eyes drifting shut.

You feel like you're falling again, the way you did the first time, when you'd rant to Mingi for hours about the smallest touch or moment you shared with Yunho, except this time, you lean into the tug of gravity with an eagerness you've never felt before. Like before, you teeter on the edge of a precipice, except, this time, you know what's at the bottom; you know the exhiliration of the fall, and the deep, aching love that awaits.

You jump, arms outstretched, knowing Yunho will catch you.

After you kiss Yunho for what seems like hours, running your hands up his back and burying them into his hair, pressing him closer to you and drinking him in, he drives you home. You're still drunk on his taste as you curl into him on your sofa, talking to him about nothing in particular, just soaking in the euphoria of being in his arms again; truly, you don't notice that your words become further and further apart, and that your eyes are drooping - you're too busy listening to the soft timbre of his voice. Nothing matters to you in this moment. It's just you and him, wonderfully relaxed against each other, not allowing an inch of space between you. Honestly, you're unsure where you end and Yunho begins.

Your heart is overflowing.

You're home.

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Yunho isn't quite aware what the words leaving his mouth mean. He's too busy studying the tilt of your neck and the way your lashes fall against your face, relearning the essence of you. A smile tugs at his lips when you finally succumb to sleep, head flopping against his chest. It reminds him of the many occurences when you'd fall asleep on him while watching movies: the times before he asked you out, when he'd carefully hold you, his heart pounding in his ears, and the times after, where he'd cradle you to him, peppering kisses all over your face.

Gently, he gathers you up in his arms and carries you to your bed, laying you down and tucking the blanket from the sofa over you - he knows you hate to get under the sheets without a shower and your so called 'outside clothes' off. Planning to quietly return to his car, Yunho straightens, but a small tug at the bottom of his shirt prevents him from standing up all the way. A glance down finds your fingers fisted in the hem of the black fabric; blearily, you blink your eyes at him, peeking out from beneath the blanket.

'Stay,' you mumble. 'Please.'

Yunho's heart flutters in his chest. You're beautiful, even with your hair a mess and your eyes and face still a little red from crying, and he could never resist you. He thinks he'd do anything for you, if you'd dare ask.

This time, he's determined that he's going to marry you. He wants to be yours forever - he wants to wake up by your side every morning, he wants to come home to you, he wants to tell you he loves you in your every waking moment.

Sitting down on the mattress beside you, he lets you clamber into his arms and snuggle into his chest.

'Whatever you say, my love.'

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When you wake up the next day, you're utterly relaxed. It's as if your body knows that you're in the safest place you could ever be - in Yunho's arms. His breathing is still deep, his hair a mess, the way it always is in the mornings. You don't think you've ever felt this comfortable; the mattress seems to cradle your back, the blankets a warm cocoon around you, and Yunho is draped over you, his long limbs tangled with yours. Smiling dumbly, you kiss his fluffed up hair, carding your fingers through it. A soft laugh leaves you when you realise his mouth is half open and that he's drooling on you, his cheek pressed against your shoulder.

Extracting one arm from beneath the blankets, you scrabble around your bedside for your phone. Yunho makes a soft sleepy noise, a frown digging into his forehead, and you hush him, rubbing his back soothingly; you're terribly relaxed right now, and you don't want to get up just yet.

In fact, you're pretty sure you want to stay like this forever.

Quickly, you snap a few pictures of him on your phone, unable to resist. Scrolling through your notifications from last night, you find a text from Mingi, asking how you are - he doesn't ask why you left the party with Yunho yesterday, or how it went, but his curiosity is still evident. You open the chat, a grin making its way onto your face.

Second chance granted, you type.

And then you throw your phone back onto your bedside table, ready to enjoy your morning with the man stirring in your arms. Yunho huffs quietly as he surfaces from his dreams, his long arms tightening around you; he buries his face into your neck, pressing a sweet kiss there, then another and another. Threading your fingers into his hair, your eyes close as he mouths at the hollow of your throat. He shifts so he's more comfortably situated between your legs, and you kiss his temple.

'Mm,' you hum contentedly. 'Morning.' 'Morning, love,' he replies.

His voice is raspy - deep and familiar as it always is in the morning. A memory comes to you: one of the many mornings you spent with him in bed, the sheets tangled around your legs with his skin on yours, and your stomach flips, warm longing bubbling up inside you. Gently, you tug at his hair, and he responds immediately, something that you suspect was already semi-hard nudging at your core before he shifts back quickly.

You frown as he pulls back a little. Searching his eyes, which have brightened a good deal since he first blinked them open, you examine them for any caution, but all you find is a deep seated fire.

'What's up?' You ask softly, cupping his face. He turns his head so he can kiss your palm. 'I - I want to... but I don't want to do anything too fast if you don't want it. I know I hurt you.' Leaning in, you press your forehead against his. 'Fuck going slow, Yunho. I love you. You know I do.'

It feels wonderful to say. The infatuation soaking the words is sweet on your tongue, magnificently domestic, something you missed saying to him every day, whispering it into his hair and against his lips like an oath. You feel like you're floating, a thrum of heat flushing through your body at the look in his eyes. He's tense, his muscles rock hard under your hands, his gaze transfixed on yours. Slowly, his lips part.

'Sweetheart,' he murmurs, leaning in to kiss your neck. 'You're driving me insane.' His touch travels to your cheek, his breath ghosting over your skin. 'I love you. More than you could ever know.'

He holds your gaze for a moment, and you find yourself mesmerised by him - his hair's a mess and his t-shirt is rumpled and emotions burn in his eyes, setting you on fire.

Fuck, he's glorious.

You grab his chin, fitting your lips to his. Yunho reciprocates like a man starved, his tongue licking into your mouth, hot and wet, his fingers curling around your waist and bringing your body snug against his - your head falls back against the pillows, eyes drifting closed when his hands trail teasingly up your body to cup your breasts, pushing up the hem of your shirt. Dipping his head, he nips at your skin, and you wouldn't stop the way your hips buck up into his even if you could.

A soft noise leaves your throat when his fingers ghost over your core, and he chuckles softly; you groan his name, nails scratching lightly at his shoulder, spurring him on as gently, he pushes your legs open, smoothly moving down the bed so that he's framed between your thighs. He keeps his gaze on yours as he slips your underwear off you, a smirk tugging at his lips when a shudder wracks your body at the first touch of his fingers on your slit, your back arching - you'd be embarrassed, but there's liquid fire in your veins, and all you can think of is him.

'Fuck, Yunho,' you choke out. 'Fuck.' 'You like that?' He teases, slipping a finger inside.

A whine rips from your chest. You clamp tightly around him, vice like, and he begins to pump his fingers in and out, his lower lip trapped under his teeth as he watches your face contort in pleasure. Wickedly, he curls his fingers inside you, sending bolts of pleasure shooting white hot through you, his carnal expression turning almost sadistic, as if he's studying the exact angle at which your eyes roll back.

On your bedside table, your phone dings once, then three times more in quick succession. You know it's Mingi.

You ignore it. There are more pressing matters at hand, slotted right between your legs and pressing feather light kisses to your thighs.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

I was thinking, so before sebastian’s heat actually kicks in his bird side (since he’s a crow demon) will start to be more noticeable. Like when he’s doing his chores he’ll find like a shiny thing and take it to his room. So if you go into his room before his heat there are a lot of shiny things just sitting there.

Yess, ok honestly I think he’d make a lil nest in his room AND your room bc he wants two nest incase you have a large clutch this season (he completely forgets humans don’t lay eggs) and he sings to you on an almost daily basis.

Crows mate for life, making him extra protective of you when his mind is clouded in his pre-heat state.

Sebastian (preheat/inhuman behavior, slight implication of breeding)

-

You had a long day and wanted to sleep, but your bed was COVERED in blankets, pillows, feathers and…fur? You looked closer to see there were ‘fluffy’ clothes on your bed too. Your bed had none of these on it when you woke up this morning and there’s only one person who has access to your room!

“Sebastian!”

You shouted, intentionally sounding more upset than you actually were to get him to hurry to your side. Unsurprisingly he was standing beside you in a moment. “Yes Master? What’s wrong?” You gesture to the bed and Sebastian gives you a blank stare in response.

“Why is my bed covered in rubbish?” You huff out, walking over to your drawer, removing your necklace and rings, placing them ontop of the drawer, you weren’t gonna wear em to sleep. When you turned around, you saw Sebastian staring at the bed, looking a little offended by your remark.

“It’s not rubbish, it’s to soften the nest. It also helps retain heat so the eggs won’t get cold.” Sebastian says, turning back to you with a smile. You scowl back at him.

“Nest? Eggs??? What the hell are you talking about? Are you planning on getting chickens? Why would we keep them in my bed?” You shove the ‘rubbish’ off your bed and get onto it. “We are not turning my bed into an incubator!”

When you looked back to Sebastian, he’s glaring at the spot on the floor where you shoved his ‘nest’. He looks back to you with a crestfallen look. “They aren’t pets, they’d be our children…” You give him a confused look. You hear a low growl escape him when you start to pull apart the ‘nest’ on the floor. You feel an arm wrap around your waist and you’re pulled off of your own bed.

Before you can protest you’re placed in a chair and Sebastian is re organizing the nest, this time putting it on the edge of your bed. Sebastian turns to you, picking you backup and tucking you into your bed. You had enough room to sleep with the ‘nest’ in your bed, but it was less than comfortable.

Fuck it, you’ll sleep somewhere else tonight. Why not the couch? Haven’t slept there in a while, maybe it’s comfier than you remember?

You got up, walking back to your drawer, not taking your eyes off Sebastian. You go to grab your necklace from the drawer, but you felt nothing when your hand landed on the drawer. You look away from Sebastian to see that the jewelry you had half hazardly left on your drawer was gone…

“Sebastian.” You glared at him. “Where is my jewelry?” Sebastian huffed as if he was annoyed. “What are you upset about? It’s my jewelry!” You hiss at him, turning to face him only to see he’s five feet from your face.

“Oh Master…I apologize I grabbed it when I walked in here.” He holds out his hand, delicately handing it to you. “It was just so tempting to take it, my bad.”

You grabbed it from him and paused, staring up at Sebastian. “What the actual hell is wrong with you? You’ve never done this shit before but now you feel the need to act up?”

Sebastian gave you an innocent smile, lowering his head a bit. “But where will we keep our eggs if we don’t keep them here? We can protect them better here.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you towards the bed.

You hiss at him. “I don’t know what you are talking about! Eggs go in the fridge, we,” You gesture between the two of you. “Don’t, and won’t have any eggs, understand?”

He looks surprised by your response and grumbles out something before speaking to you again. “But…it’s the best time to have them, besides-“ He pauses , shaking his head. “Oh that’s right, humans don’t go into heat, it’ll just be me…”

[2millu2]

Tantalizing Smell - Giyu Tomioka

ఌ Ft. Giyu x Hashira fem reader

WC: 3k

warnings: Smut, PwP, Sex Pollen, Marking, Penetration, nipple play, slighy caught, someone watching, fem reader, pet name (use of babe from reader)

A/N: maybe making a part 2

The forest was eerily still save for the occasional chirp of a bird or rustle of leaves in the light breeze. Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched as she and Giyu made their way cautiously through the dense trees.

Giyu walked slightly ahead, the hilt of his sword gripped tightly in his hand. Though his expression was as impassive as ever, Y/n could sense the razor-sharp focus simmering just beneath the surface. When it came to demons, the usually reserved water hashira was all business.

Y/n tried her best to match Giyu's intense vigilance, her own smaller blade at the ready. She depended on her bubbly chatter to calm her nerves during missions like this. "Did you hear the new baby deer was just born in the forest outside my village?" she piped up cheerfully. "The kids have been so excited to see it. They're calling it Blossom because of the white spots on its back!"

She stole a glance at her silent companion, unable to read his stony countenance as usual. But she knew he was listening, he always did despite his brooding demeanor.

Before she could continue her one-sided conversation, a harsh cawing shattered the stillness. A flock of crows burst from the trees just ahead, their frantic wingbeats sending leaves swirling. "Demon," Giyu stated succinctly, lengthening his stride into a run.

Y/n's heart kicked up as she rushed to keep pace. "What kind?" she asked in halting breaths. Giyu's eyes narrowed grimly. "Don’t know let’s get there quick before it hurts people."

As they broke through the forest into a shadowy clearing, an overwhelmingly sweet and cloying aroma assaulted their senses. Y/n's eyes widened at the thick purple fog surrounding them. "What is this?" she exclaimed, waving a hand in front of her face. "Have you ever encountered something like this before?"

She looked to Giyu for an explanation, frowning when he didn't respond. To her shock, his dark blue eyes had an oddly glazed look.

"Giyu?" She reached out, passing her hand before his unfocused stare. He blinked slowly, seeming to shake himself out of his daze.

"Are you alright?" Y/n asked with concern.

"I'm fine," he ground out tightly, both hands gripping the hilt of his sword now. "Just a headache."

Y/n studied him closely. "Maybe you should sit this one out. I can handle it if it's just a minor demon."

"No." Giyu's tone was adamant, almost...desperate? "I won't leave you to fight alone. You could get hurt."

Before she could protest further, a thick purple tentacle shot out from the fog, lashing at Y/n's legs. She swiftly severed it with her blade mid-air, landing in a crouch as it fell limp at her feet. Giyu moved to her side, blade drawn and at the ready as more tentacles came whipping through the forest...

The tentacles came slashing through the hazy purple fog in rapid motions. Y/n and Giyu moved with speed and grace, their blades flashing as they deflected and severed the writhing tentacles one by one.

Though they fought back-to-back, Y/n couldn't help but notice Giyu's movements seemed a bit sluggish, his usual fluid swordsmanship slightly off. His brow was furrowed in either intense concentration or discomfort - it was hard to tell.

A brief lull allowed Y/n to glance back at her partner in concern. "Giyu, are you sure you're alright?"

He gave a curt nod, but his heavy breathing and sweating told a different story. Before Y/n could probe further, a form began emerging from the thick purple fog before them.

The demoness seemed to be fashioned from the purple fog itself, her torso human in appearance but her lower body a gnarled mass of tentacles. Her lips were curved in a sinister smile as her chilling gaze swept over the two hashira.

Without warning, the demoness flung out her arms and a sparkling cloud of white powder exploded outwards. Y/n instinctively covered her mouth and nose, but Giyu wasn't fast enough. The shimmering particles clung to his skin and uniform as he coughed and sputtered.

"Giyu!" Y/n rushed to his side as he doubled over, wrapping a protective arm around his heaving shoulders. She glared daggers at the cackling demoness. "What did you do to him?"

"Oh, just a little stimulant to help him...relax," the demon purred in a lilting tone. "Don't worry, it's quite harmless. At least in small doses."

Seemingly bored with their interaction, the creature melted back into the fog with a flick of her tentacles. The purple demoness leave moments later, leaving Y/n alone with a worryingly dazed Giyu.

She patted his broad back firmly as his coughing slowly subsided. "Easy, easy. Just breathe."

Clutching a fistful of her uniform, he lifted his hooded gaze to meet hers. Y/n's breath caught at the look his dark blue eyes filled with full blow lust- it was unlike anything she'd ever seen from the typically stoic swordsman.

Heat, pure desire seared through her at the blatant hunger blazing of his stare. Giyu reached up with a shaky hand to cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her flushed skin.

"Y/n..." he groaned out her name that sparked tingling heat low in her belly. "I want you. Need you..."

She opened her mouth to respond, to question, but his lips crushed over hers in a searing, desperate kiss. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed as his tongue plundered the depths of her mouth hungrily.

A soft whimper escaped her as he smoothly reversed their positions, pushing her back against the forest floor. Giyu settled his weight over her smaller frame, pinning her effectively beneath him.

Y/n realized that she should be protesting this, fighting him off. Clearly the demon's powder had addled his senses, driven him into a maddened lust. This wasn't her Giyu acting of his own will.

But it wasn’t like she hasn’t imagined, fantasized about being under him like this more times than she could count on sleepless nights. Her own desire had been simmering under the surface for so long, slowly stoked by years of lingering looks and heated proximity during their travels together.

Now with Giyu's hard, straining bulge inbetween her legs, pressing against her through the thin fabric of her panties...Y/n couldn't find it in herself to push him away. Not when she craved this, craved him, so desperately.

Tangling her fingers into his dark locks, she arched needily into the delicious friction as he ground his hips against her core. Y/n gasped at the exquisite pressure, throwing her head back to allow his lips to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck.

"Giyu...ah!" His name fell from her lips in a breathless moan as he sucked hard at her shoulder.

he swiftly parted her uniform unbuttoning it and pushed it down over her shoulders, exposing her perky breasts to his lustful stare. Y/n flushed under the heat of his gaze, nipples harding in the cool forest air.

"Fuck...you're gorgeous," Giyu groaned, roving his eyes over her exposed flesh with lustful hunger. He leaned down to capture one nipple between his lips while his other wandered lower.

"Enough teasing," Y/n moaned, yanking Giyu down into a bruising kiss that left them both panting heavily.

Shoving his uniform off those broad shoulders, she raked her nails over his hard chest in desperation. She needed to feel his skin against hers, to sate the burning ache that had been simmering for far too long.

Giyu growled against her lips, bucking his hips to grind his bulging length against her clothed cunt. Even through the thin layers of fabric separating them, Y/n could feel the impressive size of him, making her mouth water.

Growling curses, they made short work of shredding the last flimsy barriers until he was finally naked above her. Y/n's eyes went wide at the sight of his flushed cock leaking precum and standing proud.

She licked her lips unconsciously, squirming as she drank in the sight of him in all his naked glory. Without exhaustion, she reached out and boldly fisted his impressive length, giving him a few slow firm strokes.

Giyu grunted, jaw ticking as he clearly fought for control. "Fuck, Y/n...gonna make me cum too fast with that pretty hand yours."

Blushing at the Lewd words coming out of his mouth she flashing him a wicked grin, she purposefully swiped her thumb through the bead of moisture at his tip, moaning softly at the musky scent and taste of his arousal. "Want to make you lose it, babe. Want you to come so fucking hard."

His pupils blew wide at her filthy words, breath coming harsher. "Not if I get my fill of you first."

Hooking her legs over his hips, Giyu didn't waste any more time before guiding the swollen tip of his cock through her soaked folds. Y/n cried out shamelessly as he stretched and filled her in one thick thrust that seated him to the hilt.

For a long moment, they simply stilled and savored the sublime feeling of being so intimately joined. Then Giyu started moving with slow rolls of his hips, dragging his thick cock in tantalizing strokes through her fluttering cunt.

Y/n moaned wildly, nails scratching down the muscles of his back as he swiftly found a faster rhythm. Every piston of his hips drove the breath from her lungs in harsh pants, the slick sounds of their of there hips hitting each other fills the quite forest.

Faster and harder Giyu moved, harnessing that supernatural strength until Y/n felt like a rag doll under the relentless onslaught. The thick bed of moss and grass did little to cushion her body as it was driven into the unforgiving forest floor with each frenzied thrust.

"Harder!" she panted harshly, urging him on with ragged cries and rolling her hips. "Give it to me, fuck me harder!"

Giyu snarled, sweat-damp hair falling in messy disarray as he somehow managed to pick up the brutal pace even more. Y/n wailed in pleasure with each powerful lunge, body feeling pure ecstasy as he pounded into her warm wet cunt.

She could feel it rapidly building, that familiar tightness low in her abdomen as Giyu's cock stretched and filled her so exquisitely. Her hoarse cries and his harsh grunts mingled with the obscene wet sounds of their lovemaking.

It was too much and not enough all at once. Y/n's head thrashed against the loamy ground, toes curling. She just needed that one...final...push...

Bracing his weight on one arm, Giyu suddenly reached between their writhing bodies to thumb tight circles over her swollen clit. Electric sparks lanced through Y/n at that exquisite friction combined with the thick slide of his cock nudging so perfectly against that spongy cluster of nerves with each thrust.

Only a few deft brushes of his skilled fingers and Y/n detonated like a flash bomb. Her scream of rapture echoed through the shadowed forest as her entire body arched into his body.

She was vaguely aware of her nails scratching down Giyu's heaving back, leaving bright pink crescents amidst. Wave after shattering wave of convulsive bliss crashed over her as she milked his pistoning cock in rhythmic spasms.

"That's it, take it all," Giyu growled against the sweat-slick column of her throat, hips driving wildly as her velvet walls rippled around him. "You feel so fucking good, so tight when you cum..."

The strained, filthy praise in his gravelly tone only prolonged Y/n's release, sending her spiraling higher. As if from a distance, she heard her own mindless litany of curses and mewling cries spilling shamelessly from her parted lips.

Just when she thought she couldn't possibly take any more, Giyu's powerful body went rigid above her. With one final, harsh groan muffled against her skin, he emptied his hot cum deep inside her still-quivering cunt.

Y/n whimpered at the feeling of his cock twitching and pulsing, coating her inner walls with each hot spurt.. She clutched his shoulders, anchoring him to her as they rode out the final shockwaves together.

Long moments passed where the only sounds were their harsh mingled breaths and the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. Gradually, Giyu slumped heavily over Y/n, completely spent and sated as his weight pinned her to the damp earth below.

She trailed idle, trembling fingers over the twitching muscles of his powerful back, mapping each ridge and scar as she cradled him against her. When he finally lifted his head, spent but glowing with satisfaction, Y/n cupped his stubbled jaw and brushed her lips over his in a soft, reverent kiss.

After the kiss Giyu eyes finally got to his normal dark blue and he finally caught his breath “I’m s-sorry I don’t know what came over me” he says his body looming over yours and his eyes filled with regret

She smiled “hey it’s alright it wasn’t really your fault, plus I’m not mad that it happened” Giyu’s face turns bright red looks like he’s back to his normal self he then helped you put on your clothes

S-shit” said the unknown man hiding behind the tree his cock in his hand filled with his seed the unknown man tuck himself back in his pants “who knew she was a fucking slut, and doing with that bastard Tomioka” said the unknown man before quietly running off

Who do you think the mysterious person is part. 2 🤔

A/N: Credits to the artist of the photo

[alpurrtwhizkersss]

Omg you're taking six of crows requests?!?

Can I get a Kaz x fem!reader where the two of them are a couple (or trying to be) like Kaz is less snappy towards her, they're working on his touch aversion and everything.

But then on a heist gone wrong reader is hurt/stabbed/shot and falls into the Harbour, and Kaz is terrified because of the water but he's more terrified of losing his girl and he realizes that none of the other crows will reach her in time so he dives into the water to save her and when he drags her back onto the dock they just hug each other and the reader is apologizing for ruining the heist, Kaz is just holding her tightly and telling her it's ok, she's safe and that's how the rest of the crows find them, curled up at the end of the dock. Maybe some soft kisses?

Kaz trying to deal with his trauma in ways like this makes me happy

His Star

Requested By:  anonymous!

Warnings: Drowning, reader gets stabbed in the arm, Kaz deals with some trauma flashbacks/anxiety, possibly OOC Kaz.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Prompt: None

She/Her pronouns used to refer to reader.

Author’s Note:

hey!! sorry this one took so long, I haven't written for Kaz for a WHILE so I hope this meets your request!

Word Count: 1321

Kaz loved you.

Or, at least, you thought he did. He had never told you explicitly, but then, the ruthless young man had never told many people of his affections for them, choosing instead to close himself off to the world instead of facing his feelings.

Despite the mask he put over his emotions every day, you could still tell he loved you through the way he treated you, how he didn’t snap at you like he snapped at the other crows, and the way he looked at you.

Oh, how he looked at you.

Kaz Brekker looked at you as though he was a tired man, bound to the ground of the earth, weak and broken, and you were a star in the dark, endless sky waiting to lead him home, your brightness and your beauty incomparable to anything else.

There were many times Kaz had wanted to touch you, to reach his gloved hand out and graze it against your cheek, or to squeeze your thigh for comfort as you sat beside him, but he couldn’t. He feared that if he did, it would bring everything back. Bring Jordie’s death back. And the possibility was too painful to try.

You understood, of course, you would never push him to do anything he didn’t want to, so you left it alone. You never asked, you barely even thought, because even the idea of making Kaz uncomfortable or upset made guilt squeeze your heart sharply. You would listen if he brought up the idea, but you’d never do it yourself. You’d never put that burden on him over something he couldn’t control.

So you made do with what you had, you loved him in other ways, helping him with planning heists, gathering information to make his job easier, making sure he ate, checking up on him every so often (despite his protests), giving him small smiles across the Crow Club when you could see he was getting frustrated. Little things that made your presence known, but that didn’t intrude too much on his life, and you were happy that way.

“Y/N!” Jesper’s voice broke your thoughts as you slid down the rain-soaked tiles of the building you were scaling, landing gracefully on your feet as you shot along the gutter at the bottom and leaped onto the next one.

“What?” You yelled, hoping he would catch it over the raging wind, but all you heard in response was silence, and you realised you could no longer hear the cracking of his boots against the tile. 

Risking a look behind you, you caught your gaze on Jesper’s long figure clambering back up the roof, two others, Inej and Wylan, caught your eye as well, though, where Kaz was you had no idea, and you skidded to a halt, stopping for a moment as you watched the security of the bank you’d just attempted to rob begin gaining on you, their yells rising far above the torrential weather, you watched the other Crows running along the top of the roof, you only caught on to why they were doing this as you turned back, and felt a swift, violent pain crash through your upper arm, you let out an ear piercing scream as the shock and pain overwhelmed you, making your vision blur and your knees buckle underneath you. Almost as soon as you made a noise, you heard Jasper’s pistols shoot rounds into your attacker’s body, quickly able to take out some other guards from his high-up position, yet nobody came to save you as your body tumbled into the freezing harbour water that cascaded against the walls of the bank.

Kaz yelled your name as he watched you disappear off the side of the roof and into the waters below. He had already chosen to stay behind when he realised that you had not heard Jesper’s call to retreat upwards, and he thanked the Saints that he did when he began racing towards the edge of the roof, still screaming your name as he searched for your body in the blackness beneath him.

For the first time in a while, Kaz took a sharp, relieved inhale at the sight of your head poking above the water, and soon your arms came thrashing with it.

As you caught sight of Kaz, you began yelling, mostly unintelligible words, but he heard his name ring in his ears, and he swore he felt his heart tear itself out of his chest when he recognised the fear in your voice.

The fear in your voice that brought him back to that night. With Jordie. Jordie and the boat. And the eerie silence only broken every so often by the groans of the wood and the shifting of clothes against the bodies of the victims that the plague had so cruelly taken.

No. Kaz scolded himself. Stop. Stop, you have to help Y/N. She’ll die if you don’t help her.

He didn’t give himself time to think again before throwing himself into the freeze after you, and almost immediately he felt the same horrible effect that he felt that night with Jordie begin to take hold.

He pushed through it as he kept his mind on you. He couldn’t let you die.

If you died, he didn’t know what he would do with himself, he likes to tell himself that he could get through anything. That grief didn’t affect him anymore.

But with you? You were his star, and if you weren’t there anymore, his sky would go dark.

Kaz could hear your sobs echoing through the night air as he pulled himself through the current and closer to you. Almost as soon as he touched your skin with his gloved hands, he had to stop himself from letting the panic take over, soon becoming grounded once again by your whimpers and pleas for help.

“C-come here, Y/N.” He stammered out, the temperature of the water mixed with the adrenaline coursing through his veins making his speech slurred and awkward as he pulled you towards his chest.

You soon found yourself approaching the harbour, and Kaz made it his first priority to hoist your body up onto the wooden decking, quickly pulling himself up after.

As soon as you were safely out of the water, you backed yourself up against a wall, leaning to the side to cough up what you’d managed to inhale during your panic. Kaz soon made his way over to you, rubbing your back gently as you grasped the wall for support, before falling back against it, still shaking with the sobs that left your lips. You soon felt Kaz move his hand hesitantly to the back of your neck, before taking a deep breath and pulling you in closer to him, holding you tightly.

“I’m sorry…” You cried, taking the collar of his soaked jacket into your hands as he shushed you. “I’m so, so sorry, Kaz, I- I ruined everything. I’m so useless-” You buried your head in his jacket as he shook his head, staring down at you with as serious a stare as he could manage, despite his heart rate going at 30 miles per hour.

“No, no, Y/N, stop it. You didn’t ruin the heist. It was doomed from the start, it was a stupid idea anyway. All that matters is that you’re safe, do you understand me? You’re alright, and you’re with me, and nothing’s going to happen to you.” Kaz’s voice managed to soothe your racing heart and mind, and your gentle nods soothed his own as he dared to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

That was how the Crows found you both that night. Kaz wrapped protectively around you, every so often placing gentle kisses to your hair, and you, his star, encased safely in his arms, having never felt so much love from anybody in your life.

[grandlinedreams]

hii i saw your requests are still open, may i request reader cuddling with zoro?

i hope you’re having a great day!! also don’t forget to stay hydrated!! love your work 💗💗💗

Hiya papaya!! And I am, no worries hehe ㅡ i hope you're having a great day and staying hydrated as well!! But this is so cute, I hope I can do it justice!!

[Heads up: established relationship, fluff]

It's cold.

There's a sharp contrast to the warm weather of a few days ago, a sharp chill that has you wondering if you should invest in winter clothes at the next stop.

As it is now, you should retreat below deck, tuck yourself as tight as you can into your blanket and try to conserve body heat. But when you glance up at the crow's nest and see Zoro silhouetted against one of the windows, you tuck your blanket around you tighter and head in his direction.

Zoro turns towards you when you poke your head in, brow knitting. "Something wrong?"

"No," you answer, "just figured you could use the company." When his eye narrows, you sigh and add, "I'm cold, too."

"It's warmer below deck," he tells you as you approach, "just go back down and go to bed."

"Don't want to," you counter, pouting as you swing a leg over his, settling onto him with your blanket draped like a cape.

"Oi," Zoro protests, "I'm supposed to be keeping watch."

"And you can, I won't bother you." You tuck your face against his neck and feel him jolt at the contrast between the warmth of his skin and yours. "See? Cold."

"I'll throw you off me," Zoro warns, but it's made even more halfhearted for the arm he locks around your back, letting you press closer. "How am I supposed to train now?"

"You said you were supposed to keep watch," you counter drowsily. "You didn't say training."

"Same thing." Zoro feels you relax against him, and he prods your side. "If you're gonna sleep, go do it properly below deck."

"Not sleeping," comes your clearly sleepy reply. "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm wide awake."

You're asleep within five minutes, breathing soft and even. Zoro knows he should wake you, push you to go to bed properly ㅡ but all he does his adjust enough to make sure your neck isn't bent at an awkward angle and keep his grip around you firm so you won't fall.

Zoro continues his quiet watch, and he lets you sleep.

[clockwayswrites]

You all don't see this. Nope. Didn't write it.

WC: 1284, Masterpost CW: visit to a leath kink shop, mentions of sex work

Paulina held up her hand, looking at her freshly painted nails. “You, Nickie, are a goddess and an artist.”

“I know,” Nickie said smugly.

“Like, seriously, you could make bank,” Paulina said. She pulled out her cellphone to snap a photo. The crystals in the center of the flowers that frame the sugar skull flashed beautifully.

Nickie gave a little shrug. The muscle tank she worn slipped off her tan shoulder, revealing more of the over the top, bright red bra. “Considering it for after. Right now sex pays well, I got the body for it—”

“Hell yeah you do,” Paulina agreed.

“—and it let’s me look after my girls. But I might be putting money aside for a shop front, yeah.”

“When you open I will let anyone I know in the area to come to you,” Paulina said. “And come myself if I’m still haunting Metropolis. Got to visit my boo Danny.”

“Someone has to come keep him in line.”

“Hey!” Danny protested from where he was carefully painting Han’s nails a blinding magenta. He did just fine with himself these days.

“He’s mixed up with a bad crowed,” Nickie continued, completely ignoring Danny, “just like Han here.”

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” Han protested meekly.

Paulina flipped her hair. “Who do you think helped him get his bad crowd? Danny can’t dress himself worth shit.”

“I know,” Nickie said with a sigh. “I remember what he was wearing when he moved in.”

“Again- hey!”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love your new gets.”

“That is true, I look amazing,” Danny said. He struck a pose as best as he could while sitting at a coffee table with nail polish in hand. He felt his bootleg Red Hood crop top ride up with the act, exposing a sliver of skin between it and his black joggers. “But I hate you for getting me hooked on lululemon, it’s stupidly pricey.”

“Good thing you have two sugar daddies then, ain’t it honey,” Nickie pointed out.

“Blessed life,” Danny said, finishing off the magenta polish with a flourish. He capped it before he started with the other hand to carefully remove the tape. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he focused.

“You should get them something nice.”

Danny snorted. “What, with their own money?”

“Sure,” Nickie said, starting to clean up. “Doesn’t matter who’s dough bought it if it’s good fun for everyone.”

Danny paused in his work of revealing the highlighter yellow polish under the tape to look over to Nickie. “What? I don’t— ooh.”

Paulina just laughed at him, of course. Even Han chuckled which was frankly a little insulting.

Danny cleared his throat. “I, um, do you think they’d… like that?”

“Honey, I’ve seen how they are with you. Doesn’t have to be nothing cray either. You can start simple, just a little accessory.”

“Huh.”

“I, uh,” Han said, nervously, drawing everyone’s attention. “I know a place?”

At least Danny was able to follow how they ended up standing in a leather centric kink shop, even if it felt like a bizarre turn for his life to take. He looked at the harness wearing mannequin he was standing in front of and tilted his head.

“Who has the patience to get into that?”

“Well,” drawled the shopkeep who had appeared next to Danny so suddenly he was half tempted to think the other was a ghost, “for some people, getting their partner into the harness is half of the fun. The obedience, the touches, the control… the denial.”

Danny swallowed heavily. Huh.

“Hello my darling, bring in some friends?” the shopkeep asked and swanned over to kiss a blushing Han.

“I’m not sure what they are,” Han said with a weary sigh. They let the other pick up their hand and examine their bright nails. “But Danny here was thinking of picking up something on the… introductory side to treat his boyfriends with.”

“Oh well we can certainly help with that. I’m Liam, Han’s boyfriend,” the shopkeep said, holding out his hand.

Danny shook the hand. “Danny, like Han said.”

“He’s dating the Boss and the Boss’ boy,” Han explained.

“They’re his sugar daddies,” Paulina pipped in.

“And damn adorable,” Nickie said.

Danny released Liam’s hand to bury his face in his hands. “I hate you all.”

“No you don’t,” Paulina said. “Now, what do you have in mind for the blushing boy, Liam?”

“Well that’s something for him and I to talk about,” Liam said. He put an arm around Danny’s shoulder (though was really barely touching him) and guided him away. Over his shoulder he called, “Show them around, Han!”

When they had space and a tall display between them and the other’s, Liam stopped. “Now, best way for me to get you something good is for you to be honest with me. I promise, nothing you say to me is going to be something I haven’t heard before. I’m not going to judge you. You and your boys ever done anything like this before?”

Danny shook his head.

“So you’ve had sex but it’s been mostly vanilla?”

“Yep,” Danny said, the word coming out as a strangled squeak. He cleared his throat. “I mean, Red Hood keeps his helmet on so that’s not really… usual. We haven’t done much, in any combo.”

“But you like this idea?” Liam asked, motioning around them, “Or did they just bully you into coming? Because if that’s the case I can find you something cheap to buy you won’t feel bad about throwing away or you can come back and return it in a few days provided you keep it in it’s packaging.”

“I, um,” Danny picked at the edge of his hoodie as he glanced around the store from under his bangs. What Liam had said about the harness came back to mind. “Sometimes, like, not in bed, Jason will tell me to ‘stay’. And, um…”

“That does things for you.”

Danny nodded, feeling mortified.

“Not that odd at all. Now, there are a few ways we could go,” Liam said and started walking again. “Handcuffs and restraints are one way. Or rope, it’s an art form so one of your boys would have to be interested in learning, but it can be something special. Or, I think maybe for you… this is where we should start.”

They had stopped in front of a display of collars and leashes. There were more types than Danny could have ever dreampt up. There was leather of all colors and patterns. There were plain black and brown collars and bright colors with poppy cutouts and rich jewel tones with detailed filigree and earth tones with geometrics. They were lined with suede and velvet and fur. Danny itched to reach out and touch them.

“Yes, I do think we’re in the right area. Go ahead, you can touch. If nothing here works for you, you could always custom order something instead.”

Danny reached out and ran his fingers over one of the collars, thinking. If this was Red Hood, Danny would have to go custom order red and black. But really this was for Jason. Danny lingered on one that was lined in turquoise suede. The leather was a bold rust and turquoise patina on a delicate, detailed circle and diamond pattern. Brass circles studded across the pattern.

“You know, I think we have a leash that will match that one beautifully. Should we ring you up?”

-

When Jason walked in a few days later to find Danny sitting on his kitchen counter, swamped in one of Jason’s large shirts, and wearing the collar he nearly swallowed his tongue.

---

AN: So this is a thing that I've now written! Loved the response to the tease I post last night~ Danny has gotten ideas and Jason is gobsmacked. Don't worry, I'm sure he bought something for 'Red Hood' too. ^_~ (Collar 100% inspired by one of Big Cat Den Crafts)

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the mastpost.

[shutuperce]

your fall 2023 byler reading list 🍂🍂

BIG BYLER FIC REC DUMP cause i haven't been writing a lot but i HAVE been reading and y'all need to read these! hope u enjoy as much as i did <3

got your spell on me, baby - @astrobei -Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 7,919

TW: none

'To be fair, Will’s costume is great, now that Mike knows what it is. And, okay, wait-

“Oh, this is so good. This is so good.” Max points at Mike, wheezing. “Because you’re dressed as-”

Will’s still looking straight up at the sky. The length of his neck is very, very flushed. Mike can feel his entire face going redder than Vader’s lightsaber. He clenches his hands into tiny little fists, and says, around a groan: “I’m not Han Solo, guys.”'

THE halloween byler fic. the party at college, bi lucas sinclair content, halloween party shenanigans.

these nerds, using star wars to flirt 🙄

background lumax & their amazing couples costume, el & will power sibling duo!!!

bowie references to heal the soul

all in all one of my favourite getting-together fics for this time of year :)

what a match: i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet - @perexcri - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 28,150

TW: guns, blood, gore (just demodogs though no human gore)

'One month ago, if you had asked Will Byers what he’d do if Mike Wheeler threaded his fingers through his hair, looked him dead in the eyes, and started leaning in for a kiss, he wouldn’t have said this.

He wouldn’t have said he’d be staring right back into those yawning dark eyes, one hand on Mike’s waist, the other against his cheek. There wouldn’t have been any lightning in his veins or blood rushing in his ears.

He wouldn’t have said that Mike Wheeler would be tilting his head in the opposite direction, eyes widening just the slightest as if asking permission, his mouth slightly parted.

He wouldn’t have imagined it at all.'

SO SO GOOD. apocalypse post s4, background jancy and platonic stobin, interruption trope x10000 so it's SO SATISFYING at the end.

WILL WITH A GUN.

jonathan & mike solidarity <3

all in all amazingly well written mike and will being blushing messes. love them. fluff in the apocalypse.

take my hand, wreck my plans - @parkitaco - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 6,297

TW: discussion of past trauma

'"I am not taken," he says out of habit, even though he kind of is. He and Will aren't together - he blushes at the thought - but they do spend an awful lot of time together, and Mike doesn't ever find himself wishing he was anywhere else. "Will and I are-"

"Ooh, I didn't even say anything about Will!" Max crows. "Oh, this is excellent."

Mike hides his face in his hands even though she can't see him. "Oh my God. Can you put Lucas back on, please?"

Max cackles in to the receiver, the sound fading as Lucas presumably wrenches the phone out of her grip. "We gotta go, Mike," he says, laughing a little. "Max has class and I'm driving her."

"Tell her she's the worst," Mike grumbles, fiddling with the phone cord.

"Say hi to Will for me!" Lucas sings, and hangs up before Mike can protest.

Mike groans and flops back on his mattress. It's going to be a long year.'

part of a series!! byler college au, friends-to-lovers, background party friendship, AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES. OH MY GOD, THEY WERE ROOMMATES??

taylor swift title... do u really need any other persuasion

the whole series is just AMAZING. mike & will getting a break, living together at college and figuring shit out <3

i might be hoping about this - @astrobei - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 15,321

TW: none

'Will lets out a small squawk as Mike’s hand— his very cold, very freezing hand— finds its way around the blankets and under his sweater. “I’m sick, you weirdo,” he says, half-laughing into the side of Mike’s head, “I have a fever.” 

“I don’t care,” Mike mumbles, “you’re warm and I’m cold. This is nice.”

“You’re going to get sick,” Will tries, for the umpteenth time, but it’s pointless. Mike Wheeler is stubborn and hardheaded and he never does anything halfway— not even this.'

established byler at college!! so yeah i have a love of college byler and this is one of my top fics for sure. 2nd astrobi fic on this list because i love their writing <3

will gets sick, mike takes care of him. need i say more?

silly goofy guys living together & doing silly goofy domestic shit

this fic makes me SOFT.

accidentally on purpose - @itsromeowrites - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 5,019

TW: none

'It starts out with a kiss. An accidental kiss. Because Mike is sleepy and Will is pretty, and who can really blame him? And then there's another one, just as accidental. But the third? Well, that may be a little more on purpose.'

literally smiling so hard at this fic. like hello. soft secret boyfriends and loads of party content, all the kids are okay <3

established byler, how the party finds out. all fluff all the time. jonathan attempts the Talk. mike has no idea what's going on. et cetera.

background lumax, lucas & dustin being lil shits together, and el using her powers to cheat at splashing games. all in all a good time!

and if I get burned, at least we were electrified - anonymous - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 14,958

TW: none

'“I’ll leave you be until lunch,” Max starts negotiating, nodding at him as if that’s a good deal. Which—considering it's Max, it is, but Mike doesn’t want to give in just yet. She sighs. “I won’t laugh about the sweater anymore. Or the weak disposition that gives you stupid allergies all the time.”

Mike’s frown deepens, but she wasn’t as mean as she could have been, so he’s gonna take it. He needs to get this out anyways, or he’s going to keep running in circles as if stuck in a hamster wheeler—an accurate representation of his brain when it comes to Will, really. He presses his lips together and tries to figure out a subtle, non-funny way to say it, but he comes up blank.

Fuck, whatever: “I almost kissed Will. Again.”

Max actually has to cover her mouth with her hand, disguising a worryingly loud snort with a cough. The teacher turns their way and stares, then goes back to explaining the exercise on the board. Mike scribbles it down while Max gets herself under control.

Screw his life.'

senior year, post-vecna. the party being friends but also little shits to each other.

madwheeler bandmates!!!

will steals mike's entire closet

they are Dumb Idiots who are mutually pining from afar

and other lovable tropes. takes place in november so good fall vibes :)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I reread your tanjiro reader post and always wondered what would happen if it’s a Muichiro reader?

How would the Vise and dorm leader react if reader was known as a Young prodigy in Swordsmanship and is very rich?

Since Reader is has amnesia, she would always forget that she’s in another world but was always reminded by her loyal crow

Both the Dorm leaders and Vice Dorm leaders are a bit much

🖤🖤🖤

Muichiro Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’re doe-eyed, airheaded, painfully blunt, and a true sword prodigy. Always forgetting and wistfully floating by in life only really reacting to your memory’s deepest secrets. The only thing that keeps you grounded is the loyal crow that gives your missions. While you are as determined as you could be to return to your world the boys of Twisted Wonderland feel the exact opposite. You don’t have much of a will which makes it easier to instill their own: 

Trey Clover

“(Y/n)?!”

“...”

“(Y/n)?!”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you been like that?! All the blood’s going to rush to your head!”

His obsession festers from his worry

Taking that big brother role and watching out for your wandering self

But then he realizes its more when you in a rare moment of clarity speak your truth

Lighting the fire inside him 

And he can’t help but want to protect you

Even when he watches you slice at an entirely insane speeds 

He still feels the need to safeguard you

Even if it means keeping you in the dark about everything

Rook Hunt

“Mon amour brumeux! Please show me the prowess of your sword!”

“...”

“Oui, your beauty is shining even when you dream!”

You’re so lovely for him 

Not reacting to his open photography 

You don’t even protest when he swabs the insides of your cheeks

He��s brought to shivers at the thought of your immense power with a docile personality

In fact he’s never seen someone so skillfully dodge and reflect arrows without being angry

You’re just so perfect for him 

He’s determined to have you 

And he wonders will you fight when he takes you or just let him

Ruggie Bucci

“You’re so gullible! You’ve got to fight me if I take your food! Come on showing me your game face!” 

“You want me…to fight you?”

Shink

“Whoa whoa (Y/n) hold on!” 

He thinks your airy attitude is a breath of fresh air

But he realizes how easy it is to string you along

And he feels no one is better to do that then him 

Well guess he’s getting a lot more practice with ‘laugh with me’

Specifically in accidental injuries

Lilia Vanrouge

“Whoa (Y/n) you’re so skilled! Would you be willing to maybe spar with me?”

“No, I’m looking at the clouds.”

“Awww come on baby! Pleeeeaaasseee?”

He loves pestering you 

Because you don’t really react so it ends up bothering him instead

Ultimately he finds himself obsessed with knowing your inner workings

And when you say something insightful he feels his heart speed up and his cheeks flush with a feeling he hasn’t felt in ages

Won’t you give this dying fae his final wish and stay with him forever

Or maybe he’ll come with you–the greatest mystery he’s ever come across

Jamil Viper

“I sometimes think I could hypnotize you to do what I want…but you’re so flighty I doubt it would even work.”

“...Your hair looks like Kabumaru…”

“What?”

He thinks you’re the cutest 

Even when you expertly wield a sword

He wonders how knowledgeable you can be if he eliminated your chances to go home

If you stayed they’d be the perfect duo 

He’ll be your brains if your his muscle

Heck you can even leave the killing to him

Jade Leech

“Ah, I see you’re busy staring at the Monstro Lounge’s tank.”

“...”

“You seem to like fish.”

“...No, no I don't think I do.”

“Hmmm, how would you like to be one?”

Floyd’s nickname of JellyFish is accurate to him 

Especially when you show off your sword skills 

An almost mindless creature that has a sting

But he thinks you’re allure is like a mushroom

Possibly deadly but wonderfully gorgeous

Perfect for a terrarium tank of your own

[copperbadge]

Europeans, I have some questions.

Do you know what ambrosia salad is?

If so, is the version you know of a) a normal salad or b) a "dessert" salad?

Do you know what Dirt Cake is?

If so, is that common knowledge in your region?

(What country/region do you live in, other context you wish to add, etc)

I'm working on the new Shivadh novel and I underestimated the comedic potential of Simon, a classically trained French chef who has been cooking for European nobility for thirty years, trying to set a menu for a graduation party with Noah, your average American teenaged garbage disposal, and Eddie, who is literally based on Guy Fieri. Reminds me of the bit in Infinite Jes where Michaelis mentions that Eddie and Gerald had him judge a debate about Hot Pockets and then confesses he doesn't actually know what they are.

(Context for the end of the snippet -- Hugo and Gwen are Simon's brother and sister-in-law, Claude is his young nephew.)

"Huh, okay, so are we doing like a salad theme?" 

"How do you mean?" Noah asked.

"Oh, just, you've got a potato salad and a pasta salad. I'd suggest a Jello salad for dessert but..." Eddie broke off at Alanna's horrified look. "That is what you will see on everyone's face," he said to Noah, pointing at Alanna. 

"Not so, I could do an aspic," Simon protested. "Sweet or savory, very traditional -- not this nonsense from American cookbooks from sixty years ago."

"American nonsense is kinda my brand," Noah pointed out. "Uh, I don't think we realized we were building a giant salad course but I am into that, actually. I'd like to discuss the Jello Salad," he said, and Eddie crowed delightedly while Alanna blanched, so Simon had to mediate a good-natured but extensive debate about gelatin in sweet dessert salads. 

It was an education; when he showed Hugo and Gwen what Americans thought ambrosia salad was, later, their horror was gratifying. It was a fitting prelude to his next exhibit, the Dirt Cake pudding cup, which made Hugo pretend to faint but -- even better -- fascinated little Claude so much that he insisted he wanted them instead of a cake for his next birthday. 

"He'll forget by the time the birthday arrives," Simon assured Hugo, who pretended to mop a sweaty brow. "And if he doesn't, I can elevate this. A light coffee mousse with chocolate biscuits -- drizzle with a sweet wine reduction -- jellied candy flavored with dragonfruit and blackcurrant."

"Can we put bones in the dirt?" Claude asked, already exploring his terrible American dessert options on his tablet. 

"Not human," Gwen said hurriedly. "That's a bridge too far for a birthday party, my darling," she told Claude. 

"Dinosaur bones?" Claude asked hopefully. Gwen and Hugo both looked at Simon. 

"Meringue, or marzipan," Simon pronounced. "Yes, that could be done. Well, my little gravedigger, we will see," he told Claude, tousling his hair.

[idoodlestuffsometimes]

Story Post 14 (Part 1)

And now for some Clawthorne family drama.

AU MASTER POST

BEGINNING | PREVIOUS | NEXT

[Image ID under the cut]

[IMAGE ID: Two pages of a black and white comic.

PAGE ONE PANEL 1: A distant view of the Owl House. In the foreground, a group of coven scouts lurk in the bushes, led by Lilith. "Scouts, today we bring this wild witch to justice," she tells them. PANEL 2: "The Owl Lady will join a coven." Eda stands in the large, round window on the second floor, looking down at them, ready for their attack. PANEL 3: Lilith points, launching the charge. "Ready yourselves and. Atta-!" PANEL 4: "Aack!" Lilith's battle cry cuts off in a startled shout, even as the scouts charge forward around her. A crow sporting a rotary dial on its chest has flown in from behind her and smacked her in the back of the head. PANEL 5: The crow continues on its way while Lilith watches. "What the--" reads her thought balloon. "That looks like mother's crow phone." PANEL 6: The crow shatters the glass of Eda's window and crash lands with a squawk squarely in a very startled Eda's face. "Wait," Lilith thinks. PANEL 7: "Edalyn, witchlet! How are you?" A voice comes from the crow's open beak. A close-up of Eda's shocked face. "Mom?!" PANEL 8: On Lilith, reacting with exaggerated dismay. "Is Edalyn getting regular calls from mother?!"

PAGE TWO PANEL 1: "Now's sort of a bad time!" Eda shouts. She gestures a spell circle and a vine bowls over Lilith and a scout with a CRACK. "Oh dear," says Gwen through the crow phone, "I didn't catch you in the bath did I?" PANEL 2: "Perfect Little Lily and her goons are paying me a visit!" Eda says through the phone. "The bad kind!" A wide view of the Clawthorne parents' dining room. They're both sitting at the table, Gwen on the phone while Dell watches. He's busying himself casting a spell on a potted plant in front of him. "Again?" asks Gwen. "I wish you two wouldn't fight so much. Maybe you really should just join a coven. It's really not so bad. Even your father finally has now." PANEL 3: Eda's dodges a left hook from a scout. "I'm not going to roll over and let myself be controlled just because Belos so!" she protests angrily. "You and Dad were wild witches for years! Do you really think it's dangerous?!" PANEL 4: "Oh - uh...Well, normally not really, but your curse..." Gwen glances at Dell. In the foreground, Dell is looking away sadly, his face in shadow, his head turned so that we can see the scar over his eye. His hand raised over his plant is scarred and has a tremor. There is a plant coven sigil on his wrist. PANEL 5: A close-up of Eda, scowling. "Never mind, don't answer that. If you're calling about another 'cure,' I'm hanging up." "Wait," cries Gwen, "don't!" /END ID]

[nina-ya]

hi can you please do "you took all the pillows so im using you as one" for zoro!

A/N: The prompt came from this prompt list if anyone else wanted to send anything. Thank you for requesting i had a lot of fun with this one!! <3 Pairing: Zoro x Reader CW: None WC: 733

You knew Zoro practically lived in that crow's nest on the Sunny. When you wanted to accompany him, you embarrassingly found yourself falling asleep more times than not against the hard floors. Fed up with this recurring inconvenience, you decided enough was enough and brought your own pillows and a cozy blanket, determined that the next time you joined Zoro, you would, at the very least, be comfortable.

Today was one of those extra exhausting days, and all you wanted was to talk to Zoro until you inevitably fell asleep. You trudged your way up to the crow's nest with a determination to finally experience a restful nap.

However, as you reached the top, you couldn't believe what you were witnessing. Zoro was snoozing away, completely oblivious, and the nerve of it all – he was using your pillows and blanket. Frustration bubbled up within you, and with each step towards him, your annoyance grew.

"Zoro? Seriously? Was this really necessary?" you asked, your voice a blend of irritation and disbelief.

"What's your problem?" he grumbled, not fully comprehending the situation.

"My problem is that those are my pillows and blanket," you retorted, gesturing to the items he had shamelessly taken. "I brought them so I could finally get some decent sleep up here."

Zoro blinked, processing your words slowly. The realization dawned on him, and he sat up, rubbing his eye. "Oh, these? Didn't notice," he shrugged, as if it were the most casual thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance at his nonchalant response. "Well, now you know. Find your own damn pillows."

“Maybe next time, but not now.” He said with a deep sigh of satisfaction as he snuggled into the pillows.

Your groan of annoyance reverberated through the crow's nest as Zoro remained unresponsive. Frustration reached its peak, and you decided it was time to take matters into your own hands. With a determined huff, you flopped down next to him, rolling over until you found yourself comfortably sprawled across his chest.

Zoro's eye snapped open in surprise, his initial reaction a mix of confusion and irritation. "Oi, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded, caught off guard by your unexpected intrusion.

You snuggled further into his chest, finding the warmth and comfort you had originally sought in your own pillows. "You took all the pillows, so I'm using you as one," you declared with a smirk.

"I can't believe you..." he started, a hint of protest in his voice, but the unexpected warmth against him made him pause. After a moment of grumbling, Zoro begrudgingly draped an arm around you, a silent concession to the arrangement.

As you lay on Zoro's chest, the initial annoyance began to dissolve, replaced by a newfound calmness. It was in this quiet moment that a desire to talk broke the silence.

"So, what's the deal with you hijacking my pillows?" you asked, your voice soft but carrying a playful edge.

Zoro grunted in response, still seemingly indifferent to the entire situation. "Didn't see any nametags on 'em."

You chuckled at his nonchalant reply. "Fair point. But next time, give me a heads-up, will you?"

His lips curled into a slight smirk. "Wouldn't be as fun then, would it?"

You rolled your eyes at his typical response, but a smile played on your lips. "True, true. Fun aside, I've always wondered about this scar of yours," you added, tracing a path along the prominent scar on his chest with the tip of your finger.

His body tensed slightly at the unexpected touch, his eye narrowing at your actions. "What are you doing?"

"Just curious," you replied, your finger continuing its gentle exploration. As your touch traced the lines of the scar, a hush settled over the crow's nest. His breath seemed to hitch, and a wave of goosebumps rippled across his skin. His heart rate quickened, a subtle acknowledgment of the unexpected intimacy unfolding. Your finger's journey along the scar was delicate, causing a short circuit in his brain. Finally, he gathered himself and he spoke, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability. "It's from Mihawk. Our first encounter."

As Zoro's story unfolded, the frustration of the stolen pillows diminished, pushed to the back of your mind. The crow's nest, initially a scene of frustration, transformed into an unexpected haven, quietly observing the connection unraveling between the two of you.

[augustjustice]

When Steve’s parents finally come back to Hawkins several months after the end of the end, they cut Steve off fairly quickly. 

There have been rumors, you see, from the few of their friends still left in Hawkins. About the company Steve keeps, galivanting all over town with that Satan-worshipping murderer Munson. And when they finally arrive back at their large, cold house and Munson’s the one who answers the door, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers and one of Steve’s old basketball t-shirts? Well, what their son has really been up to becomes all too clear to them, and, careful not to make a scene that the neighbors will hear, they find Steve and tell him that he’s out in no uncertain terms. 

Not wanting either of them to get caught in the cross-fires of his dad’s anger, Steve grabs as many of his belongings as he can and goes without much of a fight, at Eddie’s insistence following his van in the Beemer all the way back to the Munson trailer. 

Steve moves in with Eddie and Wayne. It isn’t even really a conversation; Eddie just takes it as a given fact, and Steve feels compelled to argue, but every time he starts Eddie cuts him off with a reminder that they’ve practically been living together anyway, shuffling back and forth between the trailer and Steve’s big empty house.  “What, big boy, you gonna rebuff my advances now?” Eddie asks, teasing but laying on just a subtle enough guilt trip he knows Steve won’t be able to say no. He’s a pushover that way, always caves to the people he cares about. Eddie can’t help but love that about him. 

They don’t leave Hawkins. It’s hell, sometimes, what with Eddie’s reputation, and the whisperings now that Steve no longer lives in the big Harrington house. But they saved this town from hell itself, and that makes them both develop a certain stubbornness about it. Plus, the kids are still in school, and there’s an unspoken certainty that Steve won’t leave until they do, even with the threat over and the Upside Down gone.

But the general atmosphere makes finding gainful employment hard. Eddie still has a few connections at the shop in town, Thacher Tire, with the folks who weren’t susceptible to the things other people said about Eddie to start with. They recommend him to the guys at a garage a few towns over about thirty minutes away. Not completely outside the scope of rural Indiana gossip, but distant enough most people don’t recognize Eddie right away, don’t put the pieces together between his name and the boy who was plastered all over the six o’clock news. 

Steve, without making any mention of it, had quietly applied to Indiana Tech, certain he wouldn’t get in. 

By some miracle, he’s almost certain, he does, enrolled with a declared major in elementary education. Steve hasn’t quite settled on what path he wants to take, mulling over teaching as well as guidance counseling, but it’s a start. It’s something. He transfers his home campus to the same one where Eddie’s new shop is and quits his job at Family Video, working there agonizing with Robin off at college.  

Eddie picks him up off the ground and spins him around when he tells him, despite Steve’s laughing protests.

“I knew you could do it!” Eddie crows, triumphant.

“You did not, you didn’t even know I applied,” Steve argues, still laughing. 

“Oh, didn’t I tell you, Stevie? I’m secretly a telepath,” Eddie taps the side of his head, grin wide and mischievous. “Can’t keep secrets out of this steel trap, I know everything.”

It’s Steve’s turn to tackle him in a playful hug, wrestling a minute before he pulls out his “winning move”: tugging Eddie by his belt loops into a kiss. 

“It’s not even like it’s that big a deal,” Steve says once they’ve parted, shrugging. “Since it’s only part-time for now.”  

He leaves the reasons why unsaid, but Eddie hears them loud and clear, anyway.

“Me and Wayne will chip in,” Eddie assures him. 

“You don’t--that’s not--” Steve starts to argue, cut off when Eddie presses a finger against his lips. 

“Can’t get rid of us now, Stevie boy. You’re family, now. Which means we’re in this together, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

Steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I really hate it when you use my own arguments against me, Eds.” 

Eddie grins, all-teeth. “I know.” 

Steve opens his mouth again, and Eddie can sense the lingering guilt and shame in the line of his shoulders, the way he hunches in on himself as he no doubt to mounts another argument, trying to discourage Eddie further. That won’t do.

“Now you know how it felt,” Eddie cuts in gently, “when you used to offer to pay for shit all the time.”

“That was different,” Steve tries to insist. 

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him in challenge. “Different how?”

Without missing a beat, Steve replies, a bit of a grin starting to curl at the corners of his mouth, “Because, technically, I was stealing that money from my dad.” 

Eddie can’t help but let out a bark of helpless laughter, any tension breaking.

So Steve accepts the “this is what we’re here for” argument, especially once Eddie makes clear Wayne won’t have it any other way, but he can’t quite convince Steve to bump up his status to full-time, not yet. Steve won’t let the Munsons pay his full way, is insistent he nail down a job, too, so they compromise with what they’ve got. 

Steve looks for a job in downtown, not far from the school and Eddie’s work. There’s a beauty salon on one corner hiring and Steve figures what the hell? He hasn’t gone to cosmetology school, but he knows hair, and he’s gotten decent at doing Robin, Max, and El’s nails at sleepovers. Plus, he’s willing to learn, and that has to count for something. 

His niche hair care product knowledge is enough to get him the job on the spot with the promise that he can apprentice a bit, learning as he goes.

Though it’s only part-time, the job turns out to be a perfect fit. Not only has he got the skills, but he’s friendly with a good personality and doesn’t mind indulging in a little small town gossip when it isn’t about him and his boyfriend. The clients quickly grow to love him, many starting to ask for him by name.

Steve and Eddie commute together, trading off who drives and saving on the gas money. The drive isn’t so far that they can’t drop Dustin and Max off at school on their way to the garage and campus respectively. (”At least until they get their licenses,” Eddie teases. “God, don’t remind me.” The mournful way Steve buries his face in his hands makes Eddie cackle.)

Their schedules keep things pretty hectic. They grab food together at the diner on main street during Steve’s free period and Eddie’s lunch hour. On the days Steve has night classes, Eddie hangs around the college library, using his boyfriend’s student ID to check out a few thick fantasy novels to keep him busy. The ladies at the salon all know Eddie by name from the times he’s been the one driving and picked Steve up, asking after Wayne when he sticks around to chat for a few minutes while Steve finishes up. When Steve has day classes and is free by early afternoon, he does his homework on the old leather couch in the garage’s lobby while he waits for Eddie to get off work. Sometimes Eddie finds him dozing off on the sofa. Sometimes Steve finds Eddie doing the same at a library table. 

For the sake of safety, they’re discreet enough in public most people don’t catch on; Steve suppresses a snort every time one of Eddie’s work buddies has called Steve his “roommate.”

“Yeah, I’m some roommate,” Steve says drily later, when they’re alternating making out in the back of the van and splitting a joint between them.

“Best roommate I ever had, sweetheart,” Eddie leans in and catches Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

A few folks have cottoned on, however. One of the other mechanics is an old friend of Wayne’s from the war and their post-war protest days, and shares Eddie’s uncle’s stoic open-mindedness, asking after Eddie’s “fella.” The owner of the salon calls Eddie Steve’s “special friend” with a twinkling sort of knowingness, but she means well enough. 

But, there’s other types of knowingness, too. Frankie, the middle-aged woman at the garage who gives the boys a nod with a twinkle in her eye on her way out when she catches Eddie practically throwing himself into Steve’s arms in the parking lot. Serenity, the punk stylist with multi-colored hair and piercings down her ear that mentions her own roommate to Steve with a Cheshire cat smile. Teddy, the shy 17 year-old taking classes while he’s still in high school with an eye on the cosmetology school who asks Steve if he can put in a good word for him at the salon. 

“Did Robin tell you about that club they’ve got up at Emerson?” Steve asks one night over their dinner of cheeseburgers and fries. “The...GLA?” 

“GSA,” Eddie corrects, “yeah, she told me. Gay-Straight Alliance, right? What about it?”

Steve hums, thoughtful. 

“Maybe I’ll try to start one, next year. At Tech.” 

There’s a delicate anxiety that ripples in the air between them, but there’s excitement, too, at the idea.

Eddie’s smile widens. 

“That’s a great idea, Stevie.”  

Friday nights are reserved for Corroded Coffin concerts, the boys rushing from work to the Hideout to make it in time for Eddie’s gig. The crowd is still modest, but growing, Eddie’s reputation, both tainted and reformed, a bolster that drew people in. “I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s the talent that got them to stay. Seriously, who could look away when Eddie’s the front man?” Steve is quick to insist whenever someone brings it up, hair teased and wearing his own band shirt proudly. By Saturday afternoon, the kids are all piled in around the coffee table for Eddie’s latest campaign, Steve setting out snacks and crowding around the table with them to watch, keeping up a commentary of snarky or confused asides just to rile Mike up. On Sundays, Steve cuts coupons at the Munson family dinner table, glasses he realized he needed a few weeks in to trying to make out the class blackboards slipping down his nose. 

In between, he studies for long hours on the couch, determined not to mess things up this time. When he gets too tired, the words starting to blur on the page and his frustration becoming visible, Eddie will take the textbook from his hand and read it out loud to him, Steve tucked up contentedly against his boyfriend’s side. 

Robin calls twice a week, spending at least an hour on the phone with Steve as she gives him the latest rundown on college life and how she and Nancy are faring. The rare times they all manage to be home at the same time, Steve and Eddie cook together, sharing a family meal with Wayne. They go to every one of Lucas’s basketball games they can manage, and Eddie has even made the special trip back to Hawkins to go alone when Steve can’t make it due to night school. His half butchered attempt to recount what happened afterwards always makes Steve giggle. 

The following Christmas, Eddie buys Steve a pastel pink polo shirt he knows cost too much. Steve decides it’s the best piece of clothing he’s ever gotten, more aware of its worth than he had been of anything else hanging in his closet before. Eddie can barely get him to wear a coat over it even though it’s snowing outside. 

They come together, like disparate pieces of a puzzle, to form this mosaic of a life they’ve built for themselves. 

Steve thinks about it, one morning, as he watches Eddie pouring coffee into Steve’s ‘World’s Greatest Mom’ mug and Eddie’s own personal favorite, the one with the rainbow on the front. About picket fences and cross-country RV road trips with a gaggle of kids in the back. 

This isn’t that, exactly. Not the life Steve had pictured for himself, clinging on desperately to a dream that comforted him when the world seemed dark. Certainly not the life his parents’ had wanted for him, if anything the exact opposite.

Maybe he’ll have the fantasy someday. Not the typical suburban nuclear family version of it, sure, but a version all his own. 

And maybe he won’t. Steve wouldn’t trade it for this, anyway, even a second of it.

Because, for once, in his life, he’s happy. Tired, sure, and always unbelievably busy, but incandescently happy.

When Eddie turns and places Steve’s coffee in front of him, black with two sugars just the way Steve likes it, he catches Steve’s gaze. His eyebrows draw together at Steve’s expression, smile confused. 

“What’re you staring at, big boy?” Eddie wipes at the corner of his mouth. “I got drool on my face or something?”

“Nothing,” Steve murmurs, still sleepy-eyed as he pulls Eddie down into a kiss, “just love you.”

“Yeah?” Eddie exhales the word against his lips, breathless like he still doesn’t quite believe it. “I love you, too, baby.” 

Maybe they’ll move out of Hawkins, some day, when the kids finally graduate and scatter, follow Dustin to University of Chicago or wherever he ends up. Maybe they’ll take up an apartment near Nancy and Robin on the East Coast, or spend a summer with Jonathan and Argyle in San Fran, having a wild, queer time. 

But, those are thoughts for the far distant future. For now, they’re happy. Safe. Satisfied. 

Home.