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trulybetty · 11 months

Text

Strings | V

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader Word Count: 1,514 Notes & Warnings: hbo!Joel in images, but I've been picturing game!Joel the longer I've sat with these characters - but picture who you want. Domesticity, poultry, just fluff - brief mention of a scar reader obtained in a previous chapter, reader wears Joel's shirt, Joel's shirts run big they fit all sizes, I promise. Summary: it's summer and both you and Joel have found a pace of life that works for the two of you. AO3: Linked

x. strings masterlist

Part V

Summer

Your house was a way out from the bustling town square of Jackson. An older small farmhouse that had been a part of the farmland the town had occupied when it expanded a short few years after establishing itself. So compared to the houses closer to the square, it was a lot less modern, a lot more quiet, but it suited you.

The charm of the house was in its imperfections, like the old ceramic kitchen sink that had developed a leak on the seal and caused the wooden planks underneath to rot. It was only the week before that Joel had come by to fix it. His hands had skillfully replaced the rotted wood and fixed the seal, and you had watched him, keeping him company and supplying cups of coffee and baked bread in repayment.

Today Joel knocked once before letting himself in through the front door. The formality of waiting to be let in was long gone between the two of you. He made his way to the kitchen where he heard water running.

With your back to him he paused in the doorway, leaning against the door jam as he took you in. The warm weather had you in shorts, and you missed the complimentary once-over he gave your bare legs. They only highlighted the long scar across your thigh, the one that came from the barb wire you’d gotten entangled with the spring before last.

Long healed it didn’t look as angry as it did in the throes of its healing, when Joel would always frown when he caught sight of it, sorry that he hadn’t been able to stop what he’d seen coming. However you would remind him that without it, there would be no you and him.

The shorts you were wearing were actually cut from the jeans you'd been wearing when you'd gotten the scar. You'd thought you'd have been able to save them, but there was no hope. One of the women who ran the laundry turned them into shorts for you, in exchange for the cut-off denim and some cabbage from your garden, a bargain in your opinion.

Joel's eyes lingered on your legs, the appreciation in his eyes no longer hidden or subtle. Then he looked up at your face, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he realized what you were wearing.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked, nodding towards the dark green plaid shirt that was generously rolled up on your arms, a bit too large but feeling just right on you.

“Possibly,” you trailed off with a laugh.

He laughed as he crossed the kitchen, stopping just in front of you to pull him into his arms, his eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it looks better on you anyway darlin',” he admitted, his voice soft, his face sincere.

You smiled up at him in response, feeling the warmth spread through your body at his touch. A regular feeling now and one you hoped to never lose.

He leaned in and kissed you tenderly, the wisps of his stubble grazing your chin. A kiss that spoke volumes in its chasteness of promised tomorrow’s when not so long ago you didn’t know if a version of you and Joel could exist like this.

“I'm just heading out back if you want to join me?” you asked, looking to the back door.

He gave a nod and trailed behind you as she dried off your hands. You hesitated for a moment to grab a large tin can from the window ledge that Joel eyed curiously. It hadn’t been there the other day when he'd come by.

The summer air was warm and inviting, filled with the fragrant scent of blooming flowers. You were grateful for the comfortable clothing, considering it wasn’t as if you could just head to the mall for a summer wardrobe, and trading for new clothes sometimes came at a steep cost.

Before he could ask what exactly you were doing out there in the garden, you shook the tin can in your hand, and a chorus of clucks could be heard from further up the garden, directly behind several flourishing planters, planters built by Joel, bursting with seasonal plants.

“You have chickens?” Joel asked incredulously, and if on cue three hens strutted into view, all as vividly different in their colourings as the next one.

You spread out your arm in introductions, “Meet Diana, Mary and Florence.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, “You named them after Diana Ross and the Supremes?”

You scoffed, “Who else?” Then you paused to give him a surprised look, “Actually, I’m surprised you got that.”

He shrugged, not open to discussing that once upon a time he had several Diana Ross vinyls, “So why do you have chickens?”

You started throwing down the dried corn for the birds on the sun-kissed grass, “They stopped producing, and at their age and health, they weren't exactly a great fit for food, so they were going to be euthanized,” you smiled as you watched the trio fight over the same piece of corn despite there being a wealth of it on the ground, “So I said I'd take them in and give them a good retirement.”

Joel smiled softly, “Well, you are one for lost causes.” he said, the volume of his statement speaking for more than just the chickens that moved around your feet.

You stepped closer to him, your shoulder nudging his arm, “I guess I am.”

Your words hung in the air, both a playful tease and a deeper acknowledgment of the connection you two shared. Joel's arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you closer, and you could feel the warmth of his affection in that simple gesture.

You watched as the chickens pecked and clucked, enjoying the simple spectacle, feeling a hand slip into yours. You glanced at Joel, his eyes still fixed on the birds, a thoughtful look in his eye.

“I've been thinkin' 'bout your offer of moving out here to the farmhouse,” he admitted, glancing over the expanse of your garden, the raised planters, and the humble shed at the very back fence. “It's quieter out here, and I think I could use a bit of that peace.”

“Oh?” You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze on you.

“Yeah,” he paused, and you knew he was collecting his thoughts. “The warm nights, sitting on your porch, strumming my guitar. You with your book. It's become something I look forward to. I reckon it's time to make it more permanent.”

The chickens continued to peck around, oblivious to the significance of the conversation unfolding between their caretaker. Slowly, you turned to Joel, looking up into his eyes, searching for any hesitation.

“Are you sure?” you asked softly.

He cupped your face with his free hand, his eyes searching yours, “I ain’t never been more sure about anything, darlin’.”

In the weeks that followed, Joel moved his things into your home slowly. The transition was surprisingly smooth, and you found comfort in the domesticity of living together. You developed little rituals – Joel cooking breakfast while you tended the garden, evenings spent on the porch with his guitar, nights wrapped in each other's arms.

Waking up each morning to Joel beside you became a highlight of each day. The man who had once been so adamant about not sharing a bed had transformed into the most affectionate sleeper, his arms always finding you, no matter how far you drifted in your dreams.

He was lying beside you, still half-asleep, the morning sun casting a golden glow on his weathered face. You couldn't help but watch him, admiring the lines and scars that told the story of his life. His eyes flickered open, a slow smile spreading across his face as he caught you watching him.

“What's got you all dreamy-eyed this early?” he teased, his voice rough with sleep.

“Just thinking how lucky I am,” you replied, your voice soft, almost a whisper.

He pulled you closer, his lips finding yours, “The lucky one is me, sweetheart.” His kiss deepened, and you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

His peaceful sleep wasn't the only thing that had changed since he let down his guard. His laughter was more frequent, his smiles more genuine, his love more open.

He was home.

Not just in the physical sense, but in a way that went deeper, a connection that neither of you had expected but now couldn't live without.

“You know,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “I don’t think I’ve slept this well in years. Not since...” He trailed off, the pain of his past still too raw to speak about openly.

You reached up to touch his face, understanding what he left unsaid. “I know, Joel. Me too.”

His hand ran down your side to the expanse of your bare thigh. As had become habit, his hand found your thigh, his thumb running over the scar tissue

He nodded, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Thank you, darlin’.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #strings!joel x reader #strings!joel

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crisalidaseason · 8 months

Note

obsessed with your kenuri universe and would love to see some kenny/kuchel fluffy sibling time (why'd have to kill heeeer jk)

You ask and I shall deliver. This took me longer than I wanted (I should have posted it in December but I was very depressed). Also, sorry for having to K my sweet Kuchel, but she is very much alive in this!

Family chaos on Christmas - the prequel

Summary: Kenny is miserably working on the holiday season, Kuchel is very pregnant and Uri is worming his way into Kenny's heart.

Content warning: within my family chaos universe, modern au, a prequel of sorts, some angst, mentions of pregnancy and labor, Kenny is a good brother, Kenny is tired and anxious, mentions of anxiety, slight descriptions of anxiety attacks, fluff, some domestic vibes, sibling bond, pining (Kenny/Uri)

__________________________________________________________

Kenny waited five seconds after she left to immediately switch the door sign from open to closed.

“Happy holidays, mister Ackerman” the old woman waved as she finally left the shop.

“Happy holidays, ma’am”

“Fucking finally”

The young man wanted nothing more than to end that shift. He thought it should be a crime to work on December 24th.

“Who fucking needs repair tools on Christmas?? You know, if people were less stupid and more organized all shops could close on holidays”

He had complained while getting ready for work that morning. Kuchel - the little shit that she was - just laughed at his annoyance.

“At least the owner let you close earlier, Ken. It could have been worse”

He huffed while recalling the short conversation. It was easy for Kuchel to not relate to his misery, she never worked on holidays even before she went on maternity leave. For him, working six instead of eight hours on Christmas made no difference in the end, since traffic would probably take the rest of his sanity away.

“Fuck off” he screamed loudly as he hit yet another traffic jam. It took 30 extra minutes for him to finally arrive at the apartment complex. He groaned while parking, Kuchel’s car was almost giving up - that old thing would die on them any day, Kenny was dreading it. He managed to park and almost cried in relief. Finally home!

Well. He may have rid himself of work, but home was another rollercoaster to get through.

“Kenny!” the woman greeted him from the living room/kitchen couch “took you long enough”

The older ackerman was sitting comfortably on the couch, reading a book, a heavy blanket covering her round middle section and many pillows stacked around her.

“Have you eaten?” the man asked “I thought about take out, but traffic was impossible to go through”

“I snacked a little, it’s fine” she assured him, but her face said otherwise.

She finally reached the ninth month - or, according to her, the 39th week - of her pregnancy. Kuchel was huge and feeling as uncomfortable as her appearance suggested. The last few weeks were filled with low mobility and badly assembled snacks.

“What about some chicken salad?” he suggested “I pre-made some seasoned shredded chicken”

The woman’s eyes beamed at him.

“Kenny, you’re a lovely lovely brother, you know that?”

He groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever”

Despite his initial stress and tiredness, there was a calming property in cooking a tasty chicken salad. He was far from a good student in school, but the ‘chemistry’ and ‘physics’ of food always fascinated him, he wished life could subside enough for him to spend more time experimenting with cooking. The satisfaction of eating a good meal was a recent comfort he was thankful for everyday.

“Here” he handed his sister the plate with plenty of the chicken salad “beverage?”

She motioned the half full bottle of guava juice on the kitchen table, silently denying his question. The Ackerman man sat down on the ground, with his own plate on his lap, leaving a groan of relief at the first bite. He turned the television on, looking for something interesting to watch but only finding Christmas movies or news.

“Go back!” Kuchel’s voice almost startled him.

“What? The stupid christmas movie?”

She nodded fervently while still chewing. Kenny shook his head and went back to the channel playing a movie - what seemed to be one of those holiday rom coms.

“I thought you hated romcoms,” Kenny commented.

“I do”

Kenny had learned early on that pregnancy made Kuchel even weirder. From the moment she found out the unexpected demon spawn in her uterus, she had weird cravings (not only for food, there were a few weeks she could only sleep by watching animal documentaries). He learned to not question after a while, it kept things easy to handle.

“Do you think family Christmas dinners are always like that?” she pointed her fork at the tv “It seems so inaccurate”

Kenny shrugged. Still focused on his plate.

“Well, it doesn’t snow here in december so safe to say it might not be so accurate” his sister concluded on her own.

They kept eating in silence and the movie proved to be just as stupid as it promised, though he heard sniffling behind him. Now, if there is something Kenny learned ever since he and his sister finally left the foster system to live together was that you don’t question her feelings - especially pregnant. He almost considered patting her on the shoulders in comfort but remembered she still had a good aim and her flip flops were right there, ready to be thrown.

“What a stupid movie” she mumbled.

He stood up, taking Kuchel’s plate and finally building courage to do the dishes despite his exhaustion. He heard his sister turn off the television and certain sounds indicated she was leaving her cocoon of blankets and pillows, grunting during the entire process.

“You okay there?” he asked while hanging the dishes to dry.

It was safe to say Kenny panicked a bit too often with Kuchel’s every display of discomfort - the nervousness of her due date always on the back of his mind. The young man was not feeling prepared at all for the big day even with his sister’s advice and thorough explanations of the process - although Kuchel herself was very new to this and also terrified despite not admitting.

“Yes Kenny, the boy isn’t coming out until next week. Relax…Uh!” she let out a shriek.

He hated her so much. Kenny ran to the living room, trying to see any signs of wetness indicating that the antichrist wanted out, instead he found his sister peering down at his phone - which was silently vibrating with a call.

“It’s your loverboy” she smiled at him like the little shit that she was “pick it up or I will”

“He isn’t-” he sighed, giving up this fruitless conversation they always had and picking up the phone.

“Hello” Kenny answered.

“Good evening, Kenny, is it bad timing?”

“No, not at all!” He dried his hands on his beat up jeans, Kuchel waving crazily in front of him.

“Great! I just wanted to call because I thought a message felt a bit too distant. I know you said you don’t celebrate Christmas, but I just wanted to wish you and Kuchel a special good night’s rest.”

The noises on the background indicated Uri, his neighbor, was probably at a family gathering at his family home, Kenny could hear loud voices and holiday music playing softly.

“Thank you Uri, we appreciate it”

Kuchel was staring at Kenny so intensely he felt a hole on his forehead, her insistent mouthing of “Can I talk to him?” “Let me talk to him!!”, distracting the man.

“In fact, she is right here dying to talk to you”

Uri laughed - a pretty sound that was - and asked to talk to Kuchel.

“Hey Uri! I haven’t seen you today but I wish you a wonderful christmas” His sister beamed at the cellphone.

She talked shortly to the other man, thanking Uri for the well wishes. Kenny was grateful his sister did not try to embarrass him this time - he had enough of her hinting to Uri that Kenny had a slight (giant) crush on the Reiss man.

“Your sister is a lovely woman. I’ll bring some food for you two when I head home”

“Nah, It’s okay, Uri. No need”

“No, I insist Kenny. We have plenty of food here anyway and I know you’ve been working a lot lately. At least we keep Kuchel with a sustainable meal to eat when you’re not home tomorrow”

“You convinced me, but don’t come crying to me when she forces you to have dinner with us and show you the same ultrasound pictures again” Kenny said, chuckling.

To that Kuchel raised her middle finger, mouthing a “fuck you, Kenny”

“Nothing more wonderful than spending the evening with Ackermans” Uri chuckled - what a pretty sound “I have to go, Frieda is looking at me like I am committing a crime, but I see the two of you soon”

They said their goodbyes and the call went off, Kenny’s heart was doing strange jumps on his ribcage - he was down bad for that man. Kuchel was sitting on the couch, smiling like a mad woman and clapping her hands.

“Not a word” he warned her.

“For the love of god, Kenny, ask that man on a date!”

He ignored her while heading for a shower, if he let Kuchel speak about Uri he would probably end up dealing with feeling he was too tired to process. Kenny preferred to like Uri from a distance - just being neighbors that got along well. His sister constantly telling him the Reiss man was into him did not help at all.

“Not only is he clearly interested, but he is so kind and patient, Ken! Give the poor man a little chance” she would say.

Kenny tried not to think about it, failing miserably though. He had many opportunities to meet Uri on a more romantic level, the man had invited him for coffee so many times and Kenny always refused politely. He was afraid, Uri did not know the mess he was in the head. And the worst part: Uri was really patient and understanding and respectful and observant…Kenny had a problem.

“I’m gonna sleep” Kenny knocked on his sister’s room “need anything else?”

“No! Everything okay. You should sleep, Ken”

He wished her a good night and flopped into his bed, slumber quickly taking him.

He never had dreams, only nightmares or an empty sleep. That night though, he dreamed about him and Kuchel sitting on a huge table full of food. His sister had a nice elegant red dress, contrasting with her long dark hair. Kenny himself looked down to see a nice set of pants and button up shirt. The decorations screamed Christmas - there was even snow outside!- but what surprised him was seeing Uri beside him, equally well dressed…with a baby in his arms. The small little human seemed to be pushing one year old, almost pink in color, pouty face, dark hair, looking at Kenny with light colored eyes.

“You want your uncle, little one?” Uri said, bouncing the child slightly.

As if he had no control, Kenny felt his arms reach out to the baby, his voice coming out in equal involuntary action.

“I know, I’m your favorite” his voice sounded…happy. Not that he was against having a nephew, he just struggled to have a connection with someone he had never met. But in that moment, looking at light blue eyes, he wondered if he could measure how dear that boy was.

“Typical of Levi to prefer the one who calls him demon spawn” Kuchel said.

The dream faded slowly, with the last scenes of a baby on his lap while they celebrated Christmas just like that stupid movie they were watching. He woke up feeling a strange sense of missing something. Of sadness. He stayed in bed for longer than usual, wondering why he dreamed of that. His only family was Kuchel for as long as he remembers, everything different than that seemed terrifying.

The boy seemed so real. What about Uri? Could he ever be anything more than a friendly neighbor?

Deciding that he can’t afford having an existential crisis, the man finally decided to start his routine, but early morning finally came to test Kenny's bowels. As soon as he saw Kuchel enter the kitchen, seemingly uncomfortable and walking weirdly, he panicked once again.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Kenny asked again - to his own demise.

“Kenny!” His sister warned him.

“I’m just worried, you seem to be hurting quite a lot”

Kuchel looked at him unimpressed, not answering. She had woken up that morning complaining of a few contractions.

“It’s probably false alarm, Kenny, but it still sucks”

Kenny was in a full pit of anxiety at that point. Everytime she had a false alarm he panicked anyway, a single sneeze and that spawn would pop out of her. He didn't think she would make it to an entire week.

“I’m gonna try and call your doctor again”

Kenny tried once again the number, without success.

“We should go to the hospital, Kuch” he tried again to convince her.

“No! They’re just going to send us home again, let’s see if it progresses and then we go”

Kenny was honestly tired, and scared, but he nodded. It took several minutes for Kuchel to finally convince him to go to work for at least the morning shift, but he was not able to concentrate well. He checked her text messages constantly, alongside Uri’s.

Uri Reiss Neighbor: I’m with her, if anything happens I’ll rush her to the hospital

You: Thanks Uri, I promise I’ll be back by 2pm since it’s Xmas day

Uri Reiss Neighbor: No need to thank me, see you soon. I’m making lunch if that’s okay.

That man was a fucking saint. Kenny was down bad. He had to concentrate while trying not to fall in love with that man or dying of worry for his sister. Work was haphazardly done, Kenny practically breaking traffic laws to go home, practically climbing the stairs to his apartment floor, thinking he would have to immediately rush her to a hospital for the antichrist to be born…just to find Uri and Kuchel sitting quietly on the dinner table, tea in front of them and a deck of cards.

“Good afternoon, Kenny” Reiss greeted him.

“Hi, Ken”

Kenny looked at his sister with confusion. She seemed composed and calm. Uri - as always - was well dressed, smelling like a hundred yards of soft flowers, calmly playing with Kuchel.

“The contraction stopped as soon as you left” she said, pointing to her huge stomach “maybe he doesn’t like you”

Kenny groaned, sitting on the couch to catch his breath.

“Demon spawn” he mumbled, smiling discreetly.

Kuchel turned, burning him with her eyes.

“He is a perfect little angel”

That was another bickering Kenny did not want to continue so he just surrendered. But he was a demon child! Anything born from an Ackerman was demonic - Kenny was an absolute nightmare as a kid and he was already dreading that baby.

“Hungry?” Uri asked “There is a plate for you in the microwave”

His noisy stomach answered for him, guiding his already tired self to the kitchen. The food was probably from the family dinner Uri went to last night, good quality meat and tasty sauce. He wondered if he could reproduce that recipe one day and maybe make a special dinner after the baby was born. He ate on the table while watching his sister and Uri play with the cards, attentively listening to Kuchel's gossip of the apartment complex group chat. She was bored to death most days, watching people from the balcony and stalking the chat seemed to be the entertainment of the century.

“It’s okay, Uri, now that Kenny is here he can keep an eye on me” his sister said once Uri hesitated to return to his family’s home.

“I’ll return tomorrow morning. My mother really insisted that I return to the church’s dinner tonight but if anything happens you can call me” he assured the Ackerman siblings before reluctantly leaving.

“He is such a nice man” Kuchel quietly said once Kenny had closed the door “I know I bother you with it, but I really think he would be a good match”

Kenny smiled a little, sitting beside his sister on the couch and softly shoving her with his shoulder.

“I know, but I really don’t feel ready right now”

Love was not something he thought was possible. Not for him, much like it wasn't for his sister. He felt her hand on his forearm, rubbing him softly.

“I know, take your time” she said in a hushed tone “like I said, he is a very patient man”

Her calm features soon contorted into painful ones. She let a long breath out.

“Another contraction?” he asked.

She nodded, breathing in and out in a slow rhythm.

“It never really stopped, but I did not want to alarm any of you until I was sure it was constant”

“Kuchel! What the actual fuck-”

“Shhhhh” she said “don’t scold me! I am counting them and I can’t do this if both of you keep hovering over me”

Kenny groaned, visualizing himself shaving her hair bald as revenge for the rollercoaster of worry he felt.

“Do you think it’s for real?” he asked her.

Kuchel nodded, holding his forearm strongly.

“I’m scared” she whispered “I don’t know if I can do this, Ken”

Despite his anxiety, he tried to comfort her by holding her shoulders in a strange side hug - typical of a touch terrified Kenny. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’ll be with you, Kuch”

And he did. When her contractions became too unbearable and close timing, they left for the hospital in the midst of a starting rain. The streets were calm since it was late at night, everyone most likely at the churches celebrating the holiday.

“Ma’am, my sister is giving birth” he had told the woman at the front desk.

“No father, I’m the one taking care of her” he told the social worker registering the appointment.

“Can you call another doctor then?” he almost yelled when they informed her doctor was MIA.

“Can anyone please check on her for god’s sake?!” he tried to stay calm when nobody would check on his sister when her water broke.

It was a turbulent three hours, time bringing a raging storm that occasionally painted the sky with lightning and thunder. When Kuchel was finally checked on, she was fully ready to push. Kenny was a strong man, but he wanted to die with every scream coming out of his sister’s throat. His hand was still, only because of the iron grip she had on it, otherwise he would be trembling. When the cry of a baby finally broke the room’s chaos, Kenny thought he had lost his hearing. Everything had gone muffled and fuzzy. He did not know, but later the nurses told him that he was almost hyperventilating, still holding Kuchel’s hand despite his eyes losing focus.

“Look at him, Kenny” Kuchel was crying “he is so small”

The baby laying on her chest was nothing like the grown infant of his dream, in fact, that newborn was multiple shades of red and purple, scrunched face and tiny feet, limbs so thin they could be compared to the girth of Kenny’s fingers.

“Sir, breathe in and out, you’ll be fine” said a nurse nearby.

He kept his eyes on the small being, then at his sister. She was sweaty, exhausted and crying profusely. He wanted her cries to be only of happiness, but he knew she was just as terrified of this as he was. They were just two adults with a fucked up story, having to care for a non planned baby. He was barely 25 and had an entire human to watch out for - because he sure would not leave Kuchel to deal with this on her own.

“Welcome, spawn. I’m your uncle” he managed to choke out.

Kuchel laughed, more because of the drugs than actually finding the nickname funny. He spent the entire night watching over a sleeping sister and the baby in the bassinet. He admired as the storm raged in the first hours of the morning, the darkness still outside. His cellphone would occasionally ring with notifications.

Uri Reiss neighbor: I got stuck because of the rain, the streets are flooded. I’ll get there, I promise, but it might take a while. Tell me what I can bring to you or Kuchel.

He smiled at the phone, sending Uri his gratitude. Despite the chaos outside, he felt a strange sense of peace. Maybe it was the medication the nurses administered due to his mini anxiety attack, but he liked to think it was a sign that everything would be alright.

“How are you feeling?” said the slurred voice of Kuchel.

“I should be asking this”

“Well, I'm a bit high” she smiled “and you seem too”

He chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Kuchel looked at the bassinet, warmth in her tired eyes.

“He is out…”

“On a holiday!” Kenny complemented “spawn made sure to be born at the same day of Jesus”

“Fuck you” she laughed “I think he came to force us to celebrate christmas day in a way or another”

Kenny nodded, not doubting for a moment that whatever ruled this world had a strange sense of humor.

“He was almost born on the 26th for just a few minutes” he said “he was determined”

The Ackerman siblings kept the comfortable silence, Kuchel not taking her eyes off the sleeping baby nearby.

“Kenny”

“Hm?”

He looked at her tired eyes, Kenny realizing they were so similar to the baby of his dream.

“I don’t have a name for him”

“You were never satisfied with the thousand names you picked” he replied.

“Maybe something with a ‘K’? To match us” she said.

“That’s horrendous, Kuchel!” he protested “Me and you having a name with a ‘K’ is already atrocious enough”

“You’re right…” she said “I want something that doesn’t come from parents we barely knew”

Kenny deliberated if he should tell her about the name of his dream. Levi…he remembered something about that name in bible study he was forced into by the orphanage. It meant something specific, meant-

“Connection”

Kuchel eyed him as if he had lost his mind.

“Kenny, if this is your suggestion-”

“No, woman, listen!” he interrupted “I mean that he is connected to us only. Your kid, my nephew, nothing else”

“Well, that’s true”

“And Levi means connected, joined” He finally said it.

Kuchel pondered for a moment, analyzing the name by looking at the child’s sleeping shape.

“A biblical name, right? I remember it from church” Kuchel said.

“It’s just a suggestion-”

“I like it” she interrupted this time “Levi. It sounds firm, strong”

She smiled, as if contemplating calling him that for the rest of his life. Kenny thought she would put up a fight - for being the one to carry for months and not choosing the name.

“Levi it is” she concluded.

Kenny nodded, happy that she liked it. He did not know if his dream was prophetic or just an amalgamation of anxiety and nine months of constantly thinking about this other being in their lives.

“Can I ask you something really important?”

He nodded.

“He was born on Christmas” she began “I know we never really liked this day because of all the family bullshit, but now…”

He understood. They were bitter people, but that kid had nothing to do with it.

“We’re gonna give him the Christmas we never had, right Kenny?”

#kenny ackerman #kenny #kuchel ackerman #uri reiss #kenuri #kenny x uri #levi ackerman #levi

14 notes · View notes

muttkaa · 4 months

Note

For prompts, could I please request some domestic MegAnna fluff? Pls & ty 🙏🏼

But of course!

------

It had been a long while since the Entity had awoken. At first it was slow, people noticing they were getting pulled into fewer and fewer trials. Then it all just...stopped. Gone. No trials. Not for a loooong time.

It was almost like a miracle.

Maybe it died. Maybe it finally choked on its own food and finally died from these repeated games. Whatever happened, they were happy and it can stay dead.

---

Deep and heavy breathing rose from a large woman in bed. Her dark brown hair messy and cowlicked from the wondrous sleep she was getting. No longer living in fear. No longer working to serve some malicious force. Her body stirred a moment, feeling fingertips dance across her scalp. Instinctively she pressed deeper into the touch, only to have a melodic giggle pull her from her sleep.

She blinked away the blur spots, letting the room came back into focus. And the first thing she was greeted with was a beautiful redhead, that only gave her a gentle smile as she continued to massage her fingers through the other's hair.

"Good morning"

Anna stared at her a moment, a delicate smile touching her lips as she closed her eyes again, melting into the other's touch.

"Good morning" she repeated. "When did you wake up?"

"Just a little bit ago. But you were so cute, I couldn't leave"

A small laugh escaped the Russian, pushing herself off the bed to sit up. The blanket slowly dropped from her body; the runner unable to not steal a glance at the tightly muscled skin below.

"What would you like to eat? I think we still have a lot of vegetables from the garden"

Anna slowly maneuvered her way to the edge of the bed, placing firm feet against the wooden for to raise into a stand. Meg followed her action, standing as well.

"Hm... Maybe some bread and jam? I can take out the dried venison too, we can experiment with it. Oh! And some green onion over it~"

The Huntress kept her eyes on her lover as she dressed herself for the day. Her mind and heart captivated day by day as she gets to spend the rest of her life with this woman. Even here, in the Entity's realm, an eternity with her little fox felt like paradise on earth.

The coarse white shirt slipped over her body, then came the worn leather belt and suspenders to keep her pants up. However, as went to go and clasp them, small dainty hands snaked their way around her waist from behind, fastening the clasp easily.

"I am always surprised by how quiet you can be" the older woman turned around, facing her smiling fox with her own charming face. A face the redhead could never resist.

Her small arms wrapped around the others waist, keeping her close as they swayed in place.

"That's why I'm the best~"

A laughed escaped the Huntress, leaning down to press a kiss to the other woman's forehead.

"Always the best."

---

"What game did you say this was again?" her brows furrowed, staring at the bit of parchment between them.

"Tic tac toe. A game from my time"

"Teec tac tooe" the woman chewed over the words in her thick accent, only illiciting a giggle that strummed her heart so wonderfully.

She watched as Meg drew four lines into the paper, and placing an 'X' in the upper right hand corner.

"Now you draw an 'O' in one of the other boxes. The first one to get three in a row wins.

"Ah, strategy game?" she loved strategy games.

"Sure~ a small one"

Brown eyes found the paper once more, her large hand taking the pencil from Meg's to draw an 'O' in the opposite corner. They sat together on the wooden table The Huntress has built in another life. Daylight pouring in from the windows as the two sipped on tea and munched on the delicacies in front of them.

It was easier to find and make food now, now that they weren't fighting for their lives. And with the Entity gone, it seemed that life also breathed into the land. The forest no longer showered in a constant downpour of rain. It saw all four seasons, awakening from a deep sleep.

Today, the sun was bright, the breeze was cool, and the two savored the jam they spent the winter making together.

After a bit of back and forth, Anna tilted her head a moment, circling another O under her other two.

"Ah nice! You won"

"I did?"

"Yes, see? Three in a row~"

Oh, she did see now. It made her smile. She liked this game. Her hands roughly drew another battlespace for them, drawing the same four lines she saw Meg do earlier as the two played again.

---

It was quiet the lazy afternoon. With such beautiful weather, there was no need for the constant hauling and cutting of wood. When the weather got like this, the couple found themselves with idle time just for them. And often times, they used it exactly the way it needed to be, after so long of pain and torment.

Meg rested her body against the larger one of her lover as the two swung delicately in a hammock between two trees. The breeze tickled her hair. She reached up, drawing invisible shapes against the Russian's chest, eyes half lidded in a content and cozy smile.

Anna slowly opened her eyes from their rest, turning her attention to the redhead. Seeing the smile made her crack one of her own.

"What?"

"You're beautiful" Meg reached her hands up, gently letting her fingertips drag against her lover's defined jawline.

Anna closed her eyes once more, leaning into the touch.

"Not as beautiful as you"

The runner only rolled her eyes, shimmying up further to nuzzle her neck into her beautiful lover, and to drink her scent.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm"

It was Anna's turn to raise her hand now. Callouses that once adorned her palm from the hardship of life slowly fading away. She cupped Meg's cheek, rubbing a scarred thumb across the soft and smooth skin.

"So beautiful."

The Huntress' gaze softened, her thumb slowly running over the other's lips, parting them slightly. She watched at her lover closed her eyes, pressing further into her.

"I love your lips. So pink" her thumb traveled across her jawline.

"I love your face, and the spots they have. Like leopard." the softened thumb slowly dragged down her neck and jugular, making Meg shiver against her.

"I love the shape of you, the way your neck connects here to your shoulder. To the collarbone, to here" she placed her large place in the center of Meg's chest plate, feeling her heart beat against the ribcage. Anna also took note of its rapid pace, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Dark eyes lowered, resting them against the face of the woman she loved so much. She was met with bright blue eyes, staring up at her fascinated, and a soft pink blush that decorated along the spotted face she loved dearly.

The blue gaze made her freeze in place. Like a deer. Not many things could captivate her, but her lover's eyes was one of them. So bright. So alluring. So memorizing. She couldn't have looked away even if her life depended on it.

Meg was the one to break the spell, shyly tucking her face against the Russian's neck. Her heart rattled in her ribcage from the sweet nothings she was given. No one had ever made her feel this special. And it was funny to think. She would have never met Anna, two people separated by 100 years, had it not been for the Entity.

Her fingers entertwined with larger ones.

"I love you too" the fox mumbled against the skin of her lover.

It made the Huntress hum in response, idle fingers playing with smaller ones.

She was interrupted when said fingers pulled away, resting on her cheek instead. Anna looked down with a lidded gaze, feeling the lips she went mad over softly place against her own. She kissed her again and again, meeting soft plush lips against her own as the sound of the forest rustled around them.

Slowly, they pulled apart, chest rising and falling as bright shivers illuminated them. It didn't matter how long they'd been together now. Anna could never get tired of the way Meg had control over her heart and body, and how easy it was to send her to the heavens with just a single kiss.

Her arms wrapped tightly around the smaller woman, keeping her close.

"Lisichka" she said absentmindedly.

"Mh?" Meg inquired, eyes still closed as she resumed drawing shapes over her lovers chest.

"Will you stay with me forever?"

A smile encroached on Meg's face.

"Forever and even after that"

The answer had the Huntress' stomach sing and flip.

"Be mine and only mine forever. Until the world collapses and the last star falls from the sky"

To be together like this is one thing. But Anna wanted more. Something she couldn't put into words. She wanted this fox by her side until the sky fell.

At first she was silent, mulling what the other was truly asking her. The soft blush on her face deepened, facing her Huntress once more.

"Anna"

"Mhm?"

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

Marry. The word made the others head tilt. She wasn't sure of this word, but if it meant that the two would be together until the end of time, then yes. She was.

"Will you?"

The color on her fox's face deepened, and she was met with a surprising, passionate kiss. Her body responding on its own, reaching up to cup her face. Her lips parted, feeling her lovers tongue brush against it, allowing herself to be consumed by her little fox.

The two broke the kiss, the need for oxygen over powering their desire. Meg rested her forehead against the Russian's, shakey breaths leaving her as her eyes became glassy with tears.

"Yes, Anna. I want to be yours and only yours forever. Please marry me."

Her delicate fingers held either side of Anna's head, and the Huntress was putty in her hands. She couldn't resist, taking her beloved in for another kiss as her heart sang the melody of her name across the Huntress' body.

---------

MMMMMMM I cannot STAND these two. They are adorable and make my heart sing. I hope you enjoyed this!! What a beautiful way to start my day, with some MegAnna ♥️♥️

#anna the huntress #meg thomas #dbd #meganna #lesbian love #Fluff #I will absolutely jump over a bridge for them #There is no other way

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freesia-writes · 1 year

Text

Request Guidelines!

These are for the good of everyone involved! The best work is produced when I'm inspired and in my element, not drudging through a scene I'm not well-equipped to write. So any asks that are outside these guidelines will be lovingly scattered like ashes across the sea. ;)

This stuff is my JAM -- always feel free to ask:

The Bad Batch, the 501st, Howzer, and Gregor

Fem Reader

First times, confessions, tingly early day romance and fluff

Slow burn, yearnings finally satisfied

Established relationship intimacy + domestic life

Soft, warm and fuzzy, gentlemanly fluff

Please don't ask me to write:

Cody, Wolffe, Dogma, Delta Squad, Alpha-17, or the Corrie Guard

Angst, major injury, anything dark or sad, LOL

Headcanons that aren't about romance/fluff/cheesy love

Smut -- it goes to my other blog, @spicy-clones <3

There's nothing against anything on this list. I just don't have a good grasp on them, but I can point you to writers who do! There might be other asks that aren't up my alley, and if that's the case, I'll just respond privately to let you know. Again, nothing personal, no judgment -- it's just best for everyone when I'm writing what I love most! :D

Thaaaaank you kindly! <3

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an-ungraceful-swan · 2 years

Text

Official Kotlc Ship Tier Ranking!

Do your own here

No thoughts. Just Them

Fitz and Keefe - in love with Sophie? Nah. In love with each other. One of my favorite dynamics tbh

Sophie and Biana - an old favorite, my first queer ship that i kept. Absolutely adorable. I thought you liked my brother? Nope? <3

Sophie and Stina - should be my personality. Hekster is the best ship actually

Marella and Linh - fire water dynamic? The best. Powers you’re afraid of? “Additional training”? Mwah

Marella and Biana - they dated precanon no one can convince me otherwise

Sophie, Keefe, and Fitz - love triangle solved. Sophie has two hands. They are in love your honor

Sophie and Glimmer - I have a fic about this. It worked it’s way into my heart

Tiergan and Prentice - I thank @gay-otlc for this one. <2

I am your average enjoyer

Grady and Edaline - two words. Domestic fluff. (Also angst)

Maruca and Biana - I saw this ship as little miss perfect and was never normal again

Quinlin and Alden - and they were cognates

Cyrah, Prentice, and Tiergan - honestly a flex by Wylie to have three parents

Della and Livvy - qualden and dellivvy is mlm wlw solidarity

Stina, Maruca, Marella, and Linh - four horse girls of the apocalypse is iconic tbh

I could be intrigued

Keefe and Dex - I almost wrote something for this. It has to be done well or I don’t like it though

Fitz and Dex - Fitz sees it as friends to lovers Dex sees it as enemies to lovers and they are in love. It’s great.

Sophie and Keefe - I see the appeal, and I could be convinced it’s just.., meh

Fitz, Keefe, and Dex - interesting in theory. They all take dex’s last name

Maruca and Stina - nothing wrong with it, would love to draw it.

Marella and Stina - I would call them friends but I wrote about it and now it’s stuck in my head. Redheks for life

Tiergan and Alden - exes 100%

Cyrah and Prentice - the angst potential

Keefe and Tam - I dunno. I can appreciate it but it doesn’t hit the spot.

Fintan and Bronte - not my cup of tea but the dynamic tho. Never being able to be together, and being feared, lovers to enemies.

Kenric and Oralie - adorable. Wish we could see more

Fintan and Dimitar - an interesting ship. That’s all I’ll say.

Tam and Fitz - heheh titz

Linh and Glimmer - linh is salty because of glimmer taking her brother? No. She’s in love with glimmer and is jealous

Better off friends

Sophie and Fitz - I have an essay on this I promise. They really are ough

Dex and Linh - guys. Guys come one. They are friends

Bo and Ro - I have 0 feelings toward this and I want it to stay that way.

Marella and Tam - this feels like jamming two Barbie dolls together but worse.

Della and Alden - I would get front row seats to their divorce

Sophie and Linh - I don’t see it. Interesting in theory, in execution they should be friends.

Sophie and Tam - I am manifesting their friendship in stellarlune

Marella and Keefe - they are gay in opposite directions trust me Shannon said so

Why tho? You did this for what?

Sophie and Dex - one word. Cousins.

Keefe and Biana - this feels like a crime

Tam and Biana - this has been done well once, otherwise it just feels pointless

Marella and Jensi - like a two year old mixing cake and ketchup

Tam and Glimmer - this will happen and it makes my blood boil

I will fight these shippers in a dennys parking lot

Fitz and Linh - I don’t know why but this will be the death of me

Wylie and Linh - *singing* wylie is an adult. Wylie is an adult.

Stina and Fitz - I have seen this once and I immediately realized this person hated both of them.

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meikuree · 8 months

Note

3, 4, 5, 14, 34, 41, 42, 45? for the questions for fic writers meme 😘

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

already answered! but to this I'll add some other silly examples of micro-wordplay

like a fatal - fated - flaw

they have haunted-hunted-looks every time they visit the Taylors […]

4. What detail in a map of the broken world are you really proud of?

I like the lore I invented for how Callie from yellowjackets got her name:

Calliope: revered muse of poetry, and verse, and separately truth-telling, the one deity who had power over the shape of stories and fiction. Mom always had an appetite for Greek tragedies in her small inventory of literary references, next to Virginia Woolf and Thomas Pynchon, from the chthonic to The Bacchae, and Dad had let her choose Callie’s name at the hospital.

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

already answered!

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

off the top of my head, I don't usually seek out setting-change or mundane AUs myself, especially high school/college AUs (though gritty grad school AUs that spotlight structures of precarity in higher education are my jam 👍), or fic revolving around raising children, marriage (written as an uncomplicated phenomenon), and pregnancy -- the latter three form my trifecta of personal squicks around conventional romantic milestones -- so those! also not such a fan of (conventional) saccharine domestic fluff writing, despite my best efforts. but I'm also willing to read anything once!

the real answer i'm forgetting is that a lot of m/f tropes played straight would fall into this -- but I once read an m/f captivity trope subversion fic by a friend that would've ordinarily squicked me to hell and back and yet was well-written, and ENJOYED it, which is the one notable example I can remember!

34. What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life?

THIS IS A QUESTION i'm curious about the answer for as well, if there is such a thing as ~a settled answer... I don't think of myself as the kind of person who tries to project anything onto characters or use them as conduits to work out psychological issues (not consciously, anyway, ignoring freudian slips of my subconscious that everyone can see through in 10s flat). though I heartily respect anyone who does it and think they should be proud of and own it. that makes sense to me; real life influences are often indirect and come through via your 'metaphorical constellation', as rebecca mcclanahan puts it in word painting: what metaphors haunt your writing?

to be a less coy, though, I think themes of grief/mourning, (the impossibility of) atonement, historical memory, and the costs of perfection (+ perfectionism, not as an individual problem -- I dislike most 'gifted child' discourse -- but related to wider environments and ecologies of society, class, biopolitical regimes, etc.) form the fretwork of interests that hang over my writing. very cheerful, I know!!

on a more literal level, in real life i have a casual interest in... makeup and fashion (osmosed from an ex-model sibling), geology, critical theory, ecology, and birds, so any time you see gratuitous details around that in fic, that's my self-indulgence talking.

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

oh, where do I begin. I feel this way about any fic from the MANY TALENTS I’ve had the good fortune of crossing paths with, whether as a reader or writer-I-admire-turned-friend. instead of linking fic i'm just going to throw their names out here. 100% non-exhaustive list: i read montparnasse’s fic at an impressionable age and her influence tracks a long subtle path over my writing — her ability to pack in metaphors that mix the beauty, cruelty, and raw pain that comes from a willingness to chafe yourself at the edges of human experience, risk and reward included, was formative for me. she's also refreshingly agnostic/indifferent to the usual constellation of "writing rules" that I see haunt new writers and which, in my grumpy opinion, sometimes hold back creativity

I’m an unabashed cordial (fka cordialcount) fan and I will forever rec her fic to anyone who shares fandoms/pairings with her. her prose has all the 3B’s: brutal, brilliant, and beautiful.

lionpyh

suitablyskippy

scioscribe

transversely

Senri

bloodmoney

rosedamask

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason?

i've been the lucky recipient of SO many great comments! I can't possibly pick, what a cruel heartless question!! on a serious note, I treasure everything I get, but I think the ones that stand out are the ones I get on undernoticed fic that otherwise would have 0 - 1 comments and 0.0001 kudos, like the fiercest calm. I got three separate comments praising how bleak and yet desperately emotional it was, which was exactly what I was aiming for.

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic?

already answered!

(fic writer asks)

#thank you for the asks!!!#meikuree answers #long post

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cfs-melkire · 1 year

Text

Hamper

Life returned to normal, more or less, for a time.

The most significant difference of the following moons from those which had preceded the assassination – successful, claimed the reports, sorry to say – were his regular luncheons with Miriam at Hamadan's. This was more of an expense than his usual fare, so he forewent his occasional forays to VoSa's in order to save up the necessary coin each sennight. The meals were worth it, not so much for the food (which was inferior to what the Seeq brothers had on offer, to his way of thinking) as for her company. If flatbread and jam had to carry him through breakfast and lunch on most suns, so be it.

They learned a great deal about one another. She was a domestic servant; he was a shop clerk. She had lived in Rabanastre all her life; he had crossed the woods, plains, and desert from Camoa. She preferred second servings to snacks; he had a sweet tooth, and could not be dissuaded from partaking. She had no surviving family, only fond memories; he had sisters back home, but they had never been close.

He did not mention the Kermanis to her. It seemed odd, not to, but he could never quite bring them up.

He visited them once a sennight, same as before. He and Deiter shared dinner together, same as before. Customers were scarce and priceless, same as before. There was no great change, no surprise upheaval, and he grew convinced that he was past the worst of it.

No sooner had he thought this than he was accosted, at length, the following sun by Bangaa with a foul air about them and even fouler temperament.

He did not suspect trouble, not at first. They didn't look like customers, but looks were deceiving. Why, just the other sun they'd had a floating ball of fluff fly in on bat wings to make a purchase; Deiter had called it a Moogle. If a Moogle could appreciate a book, why not these three? No matter that their leather harnesses, their gauntlets and heavy boots, their sword-belts, and their glib manner with one another spoke to martial prowess and a ruffian's outlook. Knowledge was power, and these men looked in search of power.

Of course, he thought later as he was lifted bodily off his feet and slammed down against the countertop, I could be wrong.

There were three of them: a yellowback, a greenhide, and a redscale. Mister Yellow seemed to be their leader, as he'd been the only one to not comment on the shop as the trio had wandered in off the street. The other two had exchanged insults at rapid fire pace.

"Looks quaint," said the greenhide

"Where are the chairs?" said the redscale.

"What for? You gonna read?"

That had gotten deepthroated chuckles out of them both.

"What if I'm wanting to rest my feet?'

"Can't do it here. This look like the Great Library to you?"

"No, why?"

"Cuz they want you to buy books, not read them. The reading ain't free. Buy them, take them home, get to rest your feet there."

"...smart."

"Aye. Unlike you."

Deepthroated laughter, that time, which actually elicited a response from the yellowback who was, at that point, most of the way to the counter. "Jang, Darios, shaddap! We're here to work!"

"Aye, Bafram."

"Aye, captain."

Captain Bafram reached the counter and turned to face Hakan. The Bangaa's face was an older one, more weathered and patterned with rough scars. "You the clerk?"

"Yes," Hakan answered, some of his hairs already standing on end. It was his work shift, and so his khukuri was upstairs, in the harness under his bed.

"Lidenbok home?"

Several moons' worth of customer service experience saw the answer falling out of his mouth on pure reflex, before his instincts could inform his thoughts that honesty was a Very Bad Idea. "No, but he'll be back later this afternoon."

One of Bafram's arms shot out, and one of his clawed hands seized Hakan by the shirt and wrenched him forward. The Viera slammed into the counter, the edge of the countertop bruising his waist, even as the yellowback's other hand slammed down over his shoulder and tightened like a vice. The Bangaa's maw opened wide in a grin, exposing the ridges of teeth and the lolling tongue within.

"Good," Bafram said.

The pain that shot through him when his back impacted the countertop was so great that Hakan blacked out for a moment. Coming to was difficult, he found, because he couldn't breathe: the yellowback had gotten his own left arm across the Viera's throat and was leaning on it to restrict Hakan's windpipe. The Rava Viera began to struggle at once: both hands on that offending arm to buy himself space to breathe, both legs kicking to try and find purchase, to wound, to accomplish something.

Someone had told Bafram what to expect, or else he had enough experience with Dalmascan Viera to know for himself. He stood alongside Hakan, well clear of those dangerous legs and feet, and the captain's knotted muscles which were half heritage and half training kept his captive pinned in place by the arm and by the hand which still clutched Hakan's shirt. He was asking questions, which Hakan could barely make out over the struggle.

"Where are they, you little sneak? Your accomplices, your fellow spies. Where are they?! Who sent you?!"

This made little sense to Hakan; he was too busy reaching down with one hand – he kept the other in place on that arm, he had never quite appreciated Bangaa musculature before, this strength was terrifying – behind the counter to scrabble for something, anything! He could hear the others chortling in amusement over his predicament… but then his hand found something.

The inkwell.

He aimed his swing, he timed his swing, he struck. The weight and force caught the yellowback in the right eye, and ink splattered his face; Bafram cried out, staggered back, clutched at his injury with one hand as his arm came off Hakan's neck.

Hakan wasted no time: he rolled, dropped off the counter to land in front of it on his hands and feet next to Bafram. He shot back upright, legs already in motion, to sprint for the stairs.

"Ha haaaaa!" cried the redscale as it rounded the corner out of the blindspot of a bookcase.

Darios had interposed himself between Hakan and the stairs, true, but the Viera was more nimble and more reckless than the Bangaa had expected. Hakan turned and leapt up onto and against the bookcase; the impact of his weight sent it toppling over, and he rode it to the ground accompanied by a cacophony of bound parchment. Jang, the greenhide, had been at Bafram's side earlier, but he rounded the alley between bookcases from the other end of the shop and ran Hakan with his scimitar drawn. He got a book thrown in his face for his trouble, and promptly tripped on another volume.

Hakan ran up the stairs.

"AFTER HIM!" hollered an enraged Bafram. "HAMSTRING HIM IF YOU'VE GOTTA, BUT DRAG HIM BY THE EARS TO HEADQUARTERS!"

Darios and Jang were hot on his heels, but Hakan knew the apartment and they didn't. He rushed into his room, stooped long enough to fetch his harness, and rushed back to the door, drawing his large knife and tossing the harness towards the back of the room as he did so. The sound of it impacting the far wall drew them, as he knew it would; from his position behind the door, he swung said door shut as hard as he could with impeccable timing. It crashed into Darios, must have struck him in the head because he reeled away and almost collapsed into the corner.

Hakan stepped back at once because Jang came through next. The greenhide slashed at the Viera as he came forward, but Hakan knew the counter. Poachers came into Tulque Grove often enough, and their spears were little different. It didn't matter that Jang was a decent swordsman; he didn't know about the khukuri, didn't see its recurve in time, didn't anticipate how his sword would slide along its inner edge, all but caught. Hakan thrust the scimitar aside, stepped in and past the Bangaa, and as he did so, he swept his knife-arm in a long slash which eviscerated Jang.

The greenhide dropped to his knees, gaze distant.

A furious roar preceded the charge of Darios, but not by enough for Hakan to sidestep the redscale's tackle; the brute carried the Viera into the wall of the room, and the impact made Hakan lose his grip on his khukuri. With his foe thus disarmed and his friend dying, Darios did not bother drawing his own sword. Instead, he carried Hakan across the room and, with another roar, slammed him down into the bed. The frame broke, the pain was unbearable, and soon enough the Bangaa's weight was upon him.

Darios was straddling him, strangling him with both hands clenched tight on Hakan's neck. Clawed thumbs groped for the Viera's eyeballs; Hakan, terrified of being blinded forever, arched his head back in defiance, but while this saved his eyes it exposed his neck further. He couldn't breathe, his arms were pinned by the redscale's legs, everything was going black again, slowly, slowly down into the black–

His ears registered the alien sound, and his eyes registered the red beam which suddenly flashed before his eyes, a thick red string which was drawn impossibly taut and intersected the Bangaa's head. Blood splurted out one side, the side farthest from the room's door. The brute's eyes lost focus, the hands let up, and Darios slumped over, fell off Hakan, collapsed onto the shattered bed frame.

Hakan drew in a deep breath as he scrambled backwards; he coughed repeatedly, his back hit the wall, and he looked around.

Deiter stood in the doorframe, strange weapon in one hand. This, he held leveled in the direction of the redscale. The dead redscale.

"Well, then," he said in his usual chipper tone, as though the scene before him was merely an argument over breakfast, "at least now I know the design works."

"Wh–...what?" said Hakan.

"We'll need a large trunk," said Deiter Lidenbok. "Or, if one's not available, a hamper. Not for them. For you."

"...what?!"

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #hakan camoa

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mostlyinthemorning · 2 years

Text

Five things you never get tired of writing

Rules: List five things you never get tired of writing. It can be tropes, themes, characters, phrases, whatever brings you joy. Then tag five people!

Thanks to @rmd-writes for the tag!

Magic - I'm including anything weird in this one. David as a cat - check. POV from Rose Apothecary - you bet. Living sex tattoos - why not? What I really love is not just writing something with magical elements, but weaving it into everyday life so that it seems as natural as possible. It's my complete jam, gimmie, gimmie, gimmie.

Soft husbands - I love writing the everyday moments of David and Patrick growing old together. I want to write all of the domestic fluff that comes from building a life together.

Family feels and especially Marcy Brewer feels - the Marcy who lives in my head isn't perfect - like her son, she's not a great communicator and given the chance, she'd become a bit too involved in his life, but boy does she love David and Patrick as much as they deserve - which is quite a lot.

Art and books - I'm not sure how many fics I've written that have art and books as the central theme, but it's quite a few. There's something about using that as a vehicle to let the characters express themselves that I'm really drawn to.

Banter - Noah's description about how David and Patrick are playing a game is really accurate and I love being in the middle, lobbing balls back and forth for them to hit. Tagging @alysiswriting @blackandwhiteandrose @lizzie-bennetdarcy @weathereyehorizon @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3

#houdini talks writing

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gendervapor14 · 2 years

Text

gen's gen one piece fanfiction masterlist!

what's that? you don't feel like navigating my ao3 dash? i gotchu 😎 here's a masterlist of all my GEN RATED fics piled onto a tumblr post! i took the liberty of organizing them a little bit too! <3 i will do my best to keep on top of this 👍

link to my OP ship fanfiction masterlist!! <3

these stories contain no romance, or if there is romance, it isn't the focal point. ratings vary, but i tried to loosely organize them by characters featured!

updated 08-12-23

negotiations

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 2,011 words genres/cw: angst, power imbalance, canon-compliant, tension characters: doflamingo, viola/violet summary: He was keeping his cards close. It didn’t matter. She could already see through them. additional notes: a first-meeting fix-it! my first and probably favorite work on ao3.

babysitting

rating: T warnings: none! status: incomplete, one chapter, 2,737 words genres/cw: humor, domestic fluff? as domestic as the donquixote family gets at least, canon-compliant, dark humor characters: gladius, dellinger, doflamingo summary: “What’s the matter, Gladius, are you afraid of little Dellinger?” “Horrified, sir.” additional notes: gladius is responsible for babysitting baby dellinger. anguish ensues

utopia (is always just out of reach)

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 666 words, genres/cw: angst, alcohol abuse, nightmares, disturbing themes, canon-compliant characters: doflamingo summary: In a way, Doflamingo envied his brother's ability to find sleep. But it was more than that. There was always something more to it. Corazón didn’t just sleep. He rested. He escaped. additional notes: had a bad string of nightmares so i decided to take it out on doflamingo <3

splitting (searing) tearing (fearing)

rating: T warnings: no archive warnings apply status: complete! oneshot, 1,422 words genres/cw: canon compliant, dialogue heavy, referenced incest pertaining to the celestial dragons, alcoholism, implied drug use, shit talking rosinante characters: doflamingo, vergo summary: trading one heart for another. perhaps it's better to have none. ~ takes place in the 01746 universe, but can be read standalone ~ additional notes: i got very disturbed and so i wrote a story about doflamingo being very disturbed because he deserves it and i don't 👍

birds of different feathers

rating: T warnings: no archive warnings apply status: complete! oneshot, 3,456 words genres/cw: canon compliant, angst, tension, warlord meeting, character study, pre-dressrosa, doflamingo being an asshole characters: tsuru, sengoku, doflamingo, sengoku's goat summary: garp hunted roger. smoker hunted luffy. most seem to forget tsuru hunted doflamingo. {for marines week 2023} additional notes: my friend asked me for my opinion on tsuru and doflamingo's relationship so i shat this out

beast pirates inc.

rating: T warnings: none! status: incomplete, one chapter, 6,669 words genres/cw: office humor, satire, modern AU, transphobic character characters: doflamingo, donquixote family summary: kaido certainly made an interesting choice when he decided to hire doflamingo as the regional manager for the spider miles branch of his (illegal) operations. additional notes: replaced the staff of the US version of the office with the donquixote family. disco's there for like 3 seconds and says some very unpleasant things, so be wary of the content warnings with that one.

the last trip to the county fair

rating: gen warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 1,725 words genres/cw: modern AU, high school AU, county fair, rural vibes, angst/hurt/comfort, slice of life, pov rosinante characters: rosinante, doflamingo, homing and momquixote have a breif cameo summary: Jamming his fists in his pockets, Rosinante decided this is what Doffy wanted. He wanted his little brother to be miserable and lonely. Suffer like the loser he was. Well, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. additional notes: wrote this in a depressed slump, based off of a true story. i hate having brothers.

01746

rating: M warnings: graphic depictions of violence, major character death status: complete! (undergoing edits) 55 chapters, 270,663 words genres/cw: angst, backstory, canon-compliant, mental health issues, conflict of issues, romance, alcohol & drug use/abuse, suicidal thoughts/actions, dark themes characters: rosinante, doflamingo, sengoku, tsuru, original character, donquixote family, law summary: Somewhere in that heavenly demon, there was human. Besides the flesh and blood, besides the eyes behind lifeless lenses. Somewhere there was the potential for good. But it was all tossed towards his sense of self. Doflamingo, with his wicked heart, sauntered about as if he were absolved of sin. Embodied it, really. Surrounded himself with a loyal, fallen family of his own making. Striving to achieve this goal of divine perfection. Because he felt it was owed to him. Still, Rosinante did not want his brother to die. Maybe he should've. A tale of fallen nobles, justice, freedom, and love. additional notes: this is the biggest project i have written so far! rosinante's backstory, from when he's taken in by the marines, to his death. covers his life as a marine, his experience undercover, living with the donquixote family, and his short adventures with law. there is some sappy romance in this, (rosinante x oc, and background doflamingo x crocodile) but it's not the focal point, and can be skimmed/overlooked without hindering the plot.

doflaminBROS week 2023 ficlet collection

rating: T warnings: major character death status: complete! 5 chapters, 3,402 words genres/cw: angst, hurt/comfort, canon-compliant, character study, nightmares, implied drug use, ptsd, mild sibling abuse, referenced alcoholism, depictions of a corpse characters: doflamingo, rosinante, law, donquixote pirates summary: collection of canon-compliant ficlets for the doflaminBROS week 2023 event! prompts are as follows: april 10th: brothers, april 11th: smile, april 12th: cigarettes, april 13th: childhood, april 14th: hurt/comfort, april 15th: silence, april 16th: free additional notes: ummm yes pretty much what it says on the tin, bunch of little snack-sized sad stories about these two goons

a father for a son

rating: gen warnings: major character death status: complete! 7 chapters, 589 words genres/cw: artwork, traditional art, angst, poetry, ficlet collection, canon compliant, canonical character death characters: rosinante, donquixote parents, sengoku, law, doflamingo, sengoku's goat, bell-mere summary: a collection of artwork (by @attyattlaw), and accompanying poetic ficlets (by gendervapor), for coraweek2023! prompts are as follows: day 1: smile, day 2: gun, day 3: seasons, day 4: soul, day 5: family, day 6: martyr, day 7: smoke additional notes: a collab between me and atty for coraweek! we had a blast with this and also suffered a lot :D

life of a paper shredder

rating: gen warnings: major character death status: complete! oneshot, 2,327 words genres/cw: canon compliant, angst & feels, the goat does not die!! characters: sengoku's goat, rosinante, sengoku, tsuru summary: “You be good to Admiral Sengoku and keep him company while I'm gone, and I’ll let you eat a copy of my final report. Promise?” a companion breaks no promise. additional notes: i get a lot of comments on this one about people crying so. be wary.

corazón de oro

rating: gen warnings: none! status: complete, oneshot, 2,785 words genres/cw: hurt/comfort, grief/mourning, nightmares, canon-compliant characters: rosinante, law summary: “Love, it’s…kind of like a leap of faith. You take your dive, you give them your heart. And you can only hope they’ll catch it when you land.” additional notes: sweet little snippet of cora and law's adventure. cora raises law's spirits after a bad dream and shares his take on the meaning of love. uh, also worth clarifying, not a ship. i might add more snippets of their adventure to this at some point, and use it as a cora & law fluff dump.

fight over flight

rating: T warnings: major character death status: complete! oneshot, 666 words genres/cw: angst, poetic, character study, disturbing themes, canon-compliant characters: rosinante, law, doflamingo summary: The boy, a pathetic, sputtering thing, still had a heart. Something to beat and bleed and fight for. A living, stolen treasure, stashed away into the wrong hands. But were these scarred palms any better? additional notes: i don't remember writing this. honestly not sure if it's any good. i do remember i wrote it as a foil to utopia.

sunflowers > gold

rating: T warnings: major character death status: complete! oneshot, 1,402 words genres/cw: angst, character study, goodbyes, canon-compliantcharacters: gladius, monet summary: As he gazed up at that sea of gold, hands fisted in his pockets, Gladius could only wish for the impossible. It wasn’t fair to split the Family apart. An act of trust, they’d call it, but some part of him feared it was far worse. additional notes: a little gladius character study, focused on his relationship with monet. could be viewed as platonic or romantic!

trash > treasure

rating: T warnings: none! status: complete! oneshot, 3,131 words genres/cw: hurt/comfort, dark humor, found family, character study, fluff and angst, implied drug use, chronic illness characters: doflamingo, gladius, donquixote executives summary: Maybe Gladius was a waste like the executives foretold, but he was a waste Doflamingo cared about. For whatever reason, that miserable, soft-spoken, sickly little brat got under his skin and had him reevaluating his recklessness. additional notes: i noticed gladius and doflamingo had pretty similar hairstyles when they were younger, and so this was born. some very cruel, dark humor shared between the executives worth noting.

battle your tears, bottle your fears

rating: T warnings: no archive warnings apply status: complete! oneshot, 3,917 words genres/cw: canon compliant, angst, mental health concerns, broken bones, heart attacks, betrayal, grief/mourning, hallucinations, drug use, chronic illness, crying, medical inaccuracies characters: gladius, baby 5, doflamingo, donquixote pirates summary: The least he could do was keep his shit together when Doflamingo needed him the most. Instead, he was going to lie here and die from a broken foot. ~ contains spoilers for the 01746 universe ~ additional notes: a gift for the lovely @mariaashlay for. being an incredible human. and a fellow gladius lover ♥

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oh-austin · 2 years

Text

a fun lil' elvis tag ! thanks to the lovely @dre6ming who tagged me!

when and what was your first exposure to Elvis Presley? when I was a kid my grandad used to show me all this old music, but he used to sing hound dog to me lots!

And what was your first impression? I honestly just thought that it was funny, my grandad singing it, but I really did love elvis' music once he showed me the actual recordings

Lace shirts or jumpsuits? lace shirts, biiiig whore for those

You can steal one of Elvis/Austin's outfits, what's it going to be? I honestly just want the pink scarf, like hand it over sir

C'mon, we know you've been watching/reading old interviews and random footage of the man, so what's your favorite random Elvis quote? I love the soundbite in the live heartbreak hotel second stand-up show, where he's laughing at himself for missing his cue to come in. "we're gonna have to do it again, I missed it that time. *laughs*, ready when you are [to the band, still laughing]". its very endearing, definitely listen to it!

Did you find Austin Butler's lips distracting despite them being in a movie about the King of plush upper lips? (Be honest now) I always find them distracting actually, bold of you to assume I don't

What's an aspect of Elvis' character you wish more people appreciated? his genuine love for his family

You meet Col. Tom Parker for the first time, forewarned with the knowledge of what a scumbag he is, what do you do?: A. nothing, you're a coward who doesn't care about an abused golden-hearted men B. you give the Colonel a stern telling off C. you encourage Elvis to leave him and break the contract D. you slap a legal document against that fat suit and declare "Mrs. Claus is bringing you a lawsuit" E. you waste no time with formalities, it's a letter opener to the jugular for that piece of trash

E, treat people with kindness xo

What was your favorite aspect/scene from the Elvis 2022 movie? I love the scene where he's been taken away after the 'trouble' performance and he's got his head resting against the headrest of the car, soo good

You can choose only one song or piece of media to convince someone to become an Elvis fan, what is it going to be? burning love, converted my boyfriend with that song- he's constantly jamming to it unapologetically

How many children would you give Elvis Presley from your own -or theoretical- womb? (listen to the beast in ya) three, four at MAX- but I feel like two is ideal with his lifestyle

Where are you hanging out with EP, his bedroom with the teddy bears, Club Handy, his private jet or Graceland? graceland, im a domestic woman- lemme in

What is the peak Elvis era? warning, this says an awful lot about you... 50s......... I love the lace

How long have you been an Austin Butler fan (be honest now, God is watching) aliens in the attic in like 2009 <3 although I liked tom better than jake, sorry austin

What kind of Elvis chick are you? -a 1950's prospective wife material that he's already sampled, a 1960's filmset fling or a Vegas torrid backstage affair? prospective wife, literally would clean up after this man- whore for domestic life

Is Austin Butler an honorary southerner now? Answer options: A. hell no, California can keep his sweet cheeks. B. hell yes, he's practically been possessed by the soul of the King of the South

A- definitely not, that man has california running through his veins

Pick your poison in the fan-fiction realm: angst, fluff, smut, fluffy smut, angsty fluff, angsty smut?...or is reading about Elvis Presley an acknowledged health hazard? fluff, I want it all day every day- my weakness is dad!austin fluff

Spit or swallow for this man? (And if you don't understand this question move right along) I hate bjs with everything in me, so I have to be feeling extra slutty to even CONSIDER THEM........ but I would swallow

Would Gladys approve of you? Take your above answer into consideration I mean.. I hope? but probably not at first, I'd try to win her over though

Which of Elvis' cars is your favorite? look I don't know anything about cars, so sorry. but the one he's driving with priscilla in the little home video scene

What are your odds for besting this man at karate? definitely not, but I would try to give him a run for his money

If you could meet Elvis and have enough composure to tell him something, what would it be? love your music boo, thats it

What’s a hobby or pastime of yours you wish you could share with Elvis/Austin!Elvis? I love the beach, its my favourite place to go any time of the year- so I'd take Austin down to my local and make him jump off the steps of the jetty with me

What’s the Elvis 2022 quote you’ve been mumbling to yourself ever since you heard it? honestly idek, so sorry

What are your top 3 go-to Elvis songs? blue suede shoes, suspicious minds, viva las vegas (its my guilty pleasure song)

If you could spare him one tragedy what would it be? seeing his mumma pass, so so sad- feel like she would've been able to steer him in the right direction if she was still with him

Is there a modern artist that sorta scratches for you the itch that Elvis’ absence leaves? look I love harry, but I don't know if I would say he 'scratched' the itch if that makes sense- but he's definitely a close second

How did you react at the end of the movie when In the Ghetto started to play A. I got up and fixed a snack because I have no soul, B. I left feeling alarmingly horny, C. I was impressed but didn’t realize how affected I was until days later when it was still with me D. I cried buckets they had to bring in a mop E. I may have appeared emotionless but in fact my soul was leaving my body and I don’t think it’s returned quite yet

E again! I literally have no soul when watching films in the cinema, I was also working when I saw it so I couldn't or my client would've been like celeste wtf

If you’ve got a favorite gif or photo insert it here and bless us all

I won’t tag anyone, but anyone who wants to participate can <3

#tags!

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alohdark · 2 years

Text

Fluffuary 19th

I definitely have drifted away from true 'fluff' but it's not angst so I could that as a win.

Anway, Enjoy

Frank woke with a stifled groan. Old injuries like dull knives digging into him. He breathed slowly through his nose and gathered the necessary willpower to get out of bed. He knew as soon as he moved the pain would sharpen before dulling again into his daily levels. He grunted as he pushed back the covers and swung his legs out and over the edge of the bed. The pain intensified as he straightened up and stood before rolling back into the dull ache he had learned to ignore. Mornings always were the hardest.

He padded barefoot across the room and to the bathroom. He quickly performed his morning rituals and gradually felt more like a human being and not a mass of sizzling lightening pain. The scent of coffee drew him to the kitchen where Matt was preparing breakfast for them.

Frank grumbled something that could have been a ‘good morning’ as he kissed Matt’s shoulder and grabbed the coffee pot. He poured a cup and cradled the mug between hands that were no longer as callused as they once had been. Softening up and growing more sensitive to the feel of the mug he held. The warmth lulled his sleepy brain to a greater state of wakefullness that the caffeine would bring to the forefront. He moaned softly as he took a sip of the rich brew.

Matt huffed a laugh and asked “Should I leave you two of you alone?”

Frank took a few steps over to Matt and kissed him again soundly on the cheek this time. “Mornin’ love.” He said intelligibly.

“Morning Frank.” Matt answered.

He grabbed the bowls of fruit off the counter and brought them over to the table already set for two. Next he brought over toast and jam. Frank grabbed the butter with one hand and both of their coffee mugs with the other. They settled at the kitchen table for their light breakfast. Everything was fresh and perfectly ripe. Matt’s extraordinary senses letting him pick fruit with unerring aptitude.

When breakfast was over, they washed dishes together; Frank washing and Matt drying. It was quiet and domestic in a way that Frank thought he’d never have again. The peace of it settled into his aching bones and healed some of the hurt. His frequently broken bones still felt the weather but he’d take an asprin soon and those would take the rest of the edge off. All he needed was Matt at his side and his ache would be soothed beyond what he deserved. It had taken then years of hardwork and bloody fighting to get to this point and Frank wasn’t going to let the best thing in his life go.

Matt bumped lighting into his shoulder and Frank drew himself out of his thoughts, turning the water off.

“You’re quieter than usual this morning.” Matt said. “Everything okay?”

Frank sighed. “Just feeling my age today is all.” He answered honestly.

Matt grabbed a towel and dried Frank’s hands for him before pulling those hands until they rested on his waist. Matt raised his own hands and wrapped his arms around Frank’s shoulders. He held Frank tight but not painfully so. “I can call out. Nothing is happening that Foggy can’t handle alone. We could have a day to ourselves. To feel young again.” Frank leaned forward and stole those lips into a kiss. It was languid, unhurried, but full of affection. Frank would like nothing more than to spend the day ignoring their day-to-day lives. He knew he should protest but his bones ached and he was feeling selfish.

“Make the call.” He whispered into Matt’s ear.

Matt’s grin was beatific. More so than a simple request should have made him. But Frank wasn’t complaining that now he’d get to spend the day with a happy Matt. Definitely made waking up in pain worth it, to have everything soothed by having Matt by his side.

After the call was made, they settled back into the couch and just enjoyed each others company. Matt a living warm weighted blanket calming blanket draped over Frank’s side. Yes he hurt, but it was nothing compared to the love he felt for the man in his arms.

Frank kissed Matt’s temple and whispered “Love you.”

Matt just snuggled further into his side.

#fratt #my fanfics

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bitchlessdino · 2 years

Note

Hi, can I have a request? 😇

You now how Mingyu in the last GoSe episode talked about how him and Soonyoung aren't good match (like personality)?

I was wondering about how would it be being in poly relationship with these two. 🤔

Pairing: soonyoung x afab!reader x mingyu

Genre: fluff, slice of life, smut

Word count: 800ish

tags: a lot background, domesticity, smut eventually, bisexual polycule, oral (giving and receiving), pet names, whiny gyu, teasing soonyoung, bossy soonyoung, pussy slapping

author note: I was stuck on how to approach this bc i was wracking my brain on whether I should try a new method like bullet pointing the details or write full thing, so how I decided to structure this a combination of how I've been answering requests lately and how i normally write fic. hopefully, this all makes sense. Enjoy!

Hoshi and Mingyu couldn’t be any more different from each other. Dating both of them is like owning both a dog and a cat. The dog is Mingyu who is loyal, loving, and overbearingly sweet, however, his breed would be Saint Bernard with how big and clumsy he is. With his size, his strength causes him to drop things left and right, causing nonfunctioning household appliances, and occasionally a frustrating Soonyoung that falls victim to his boyfriend's obstructive mistakes.

That did not make Soonyoung perfect either. If Mingyu was a dog, Soonyoung is the most hyperactive cat you have ever met. He's the type to really push and pull when he wants, meaning some days or hours of the day all he wants is affection, other times he's very self-involved and absorbed in his own interests. Those days when he's distracted, he's forgetting things like Mingyu making dinner at home when he decides brings home takeout.

You admit fights happen sometimes. It's inevitable with these two. Some days topics would vary from the type of movie playing for movie nights (Soonyoung loves his romantic comedies, while Mingyu was always interested in something jam-packed and exciting), to the contrast in cleanliness between the two (Soonyoung doesn’t even know where the vacuum is stored in the apartment).

Luckily, serious fights were rare and easy to make up since you play such a neutral role. You often found yourself to be one of the mediators in those situations and were thought to be a voice of reason. No matter how big the conflict got, no matter the length, the volume, or the reason, there was always a resolution. So as fun as a poly relationship may be, it's not a perfect science and that's fine. It was exciting because it was unconventional, yet at the same time, as loving as another monogamous relationship.

The sex, however, that you can't get from a relationship that wasn’t polygamy.

“Holy shit, baby, you’re so wet.”

Your excitement drips from Soonyoung’s finger like nectar, oozing more when you see him catch their sheen from his fingers into his mouth. You audibly moan at the scene, vibrating around the cock wedged in your mouth, causing its owner to jolt in place. With his knees bent in the pillows and gripping the bed frame for balance, Mingyu lets out a weak gasp, grabs you by the head, and shoves his cock far in your mouth just to get you to shut up. “‘Young, do not do that. I almost busted in her mouth.”

Soonyoung scoffs, “You talking to me again? What happened to being mad at me?”

The shorter man flicks a slick finger up your slit, hearing your whimpers ensue, causing Mingyu’s cock to twitch again in your mouth. The taller man gnash at his bottom lip to hold back his moan, glaring at his boyfriend who was smiling like the devil. “F-fuck you.”

“He doesn’t mean that, kitten,” Soonyoung averts his attention to you, eyes batting at you with feigned innocence, “He just can’t think with your pretty mouth around his cock.”

Soonyoung pushes two digits deep inside your prep cunt, your whines like music, and he feels your hips buck up in his direction, hungry for Soonyoung to move already. He thoughtfully moves inside you, twisting them, and plays with you gently. Drool seeps out of your mouth. Your legs slightly flail, clenching around his fingers while simultaneously trying to play the part for Mingyu. The man with his hands in your hair holds you with great care. He pulls the hair away from your face, seeing your eyes watch him with sincere eyes, bobbing down on him like you have a million times (which maybe you did).

“I really can’t,” Mingyu grunts, he caresses the side of your cheek, holding its warmth,“Soonyoung make her cum already.”

Sooyoung slows down on purpose, agonizing his partner’s poor pussy. You whine relentlessly, and Mingyu follows, feeling himself about to fill your mouth to the brim with his scorching cum. The blonde looks at them both. “Tell me how much you want it, Pup. I want to know how much you want Kitten to cry around your cock.”

“The fuck?” Mingyu retorts.

Soonyoung lands a tight slap to the eager cut, noticing you clench around to nothing, as you again vibrate around Mingyu’s cock, the poor man moaning loud enough to echo the room. “You piec–Come on, baby. Cry around my cock, hmm?”

“Not enough. Tell them you want to see their pretty face fucked out while we fill both their holes.”

“Mmh, baby doll. Love. I want to see you be good for ‘Young and me. Be a pretty toy for us while we fuck your cunt and mouth nice and good, Okay? Can you do that for me? For us?”

You nod at the taller man, earning a pat on the head. Mingyu smiles down at you sweetly, lightly grasping your chin, happy to have this brief moment to yourselves until Soonyoung once again interrupts. The older man pulls himself up to drag the articles of clothing off his lower body, the angry throbbing cock catching your eye in an instant, internally begging for that to be inside you.

“We can’t keep our puppy waiting now, can we kitten?”

#mingyu smut #soonyoung smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #hoshi smut #kwon soonyoung smut #kwon hoshi smut #seventeen mingyu #seventeen hoshi #seventeen soonyoung #seventeen x you #seventeen #asks #anon asks

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sailoryooons · 2 years

Note

I would love #39 with soft boyfriend Namjoon 🥰❤️

❀ Pairing: Namjoon x reader (gender not specified)

❀ Summary: After a stressful day at work, you go home brimming with tears and frustration. Thankfully, Namjoon is always willing to help and soothe you with open arms.

❀ Dialogue prompts requested: #39 “Tell me how to help.”

❀ Word Count: 1,167

❀ Genre: domestic, established relationship

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Soft fluff, reader had a stressful day

❀ Published: May 29, 2022

❀ A/N:Hi hello - sorry this took so long to fill! I am finally working through my requests and this felt like the perfect answer to a super stressful day - I hope you enjoy quiet moments with soft boyfriend Namjoon! Writing this made me feel very dreamy and sleepy 🥰

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask |

The tightness in your throat signals stuck tears as you jam the button on the elevator. It smells nice inside, with clean tile and a polished mirror interior. Soft jazz music plays as the car shoots upwards, dinging past every floor with a soft chime.

Most days you can appreciate the insane upgrade from the elevator at your old apartment to the elevator at your current apartment. It’s mostly due to moving in with Namjoon, but you have always learned to appreciate the small things.

Except for today.

Today isn’t meant for appreciating anything it feels like. What had started as a spilled-coffee morning had turned into an endless stream of mean-toned emails, piles of projects being added to your to-do list, and an angry client that inspired a five-minute mental breakdown in the bathroom.

You never expected that being an adult would be easy. But you didn’t expect it to be so hard sometimes. It’s so stressful at times – the all-consuming kind where you misspell responses because you’re moving too quickly in an attempt to get everything done.

Or the kind where your sleeve snatches on the door handle because the universe knows you’re in a hurry.

Or the kind where you take two bites of your salad before being pulled into a meeting, only to return to find ants in it.

Or the kind or the kind or the kind – you can list the inconveniences in various orders of operations.

The apartment smells like cinnamon when you enter. There’s soft lighting in the entryway. You close the door with a gentle click, pressing your back firmly against it and closing your eyes. The sting of tears is still there, a soft burn that hurts just as bad eyes closed as it does eyes open.

No sound comes from the apartment, but the spicy smell of a lit candle and the low lighting emanating from the living room is a sure sign that Namjoon is home. You slide off the shoes from your weary feet, placing them next to the neatly arranged sneakers near the door. With the shed weight of your back on a hook and your coat to follow, you feel a little lighter as you enter the apartment proper.

A fireplace crackles on the TV for ambiance, though muted as Namjoon sits on the couch. For a moment, you stand at the entryway to the living room, taking in your surroundings.

Soft warm light casts a halo around Namjoon from the lamp next to him. He’s curled into the arm of the couch, knees to chest and feet pressed into the cushions as he cradles his book. His brown hair is messy and a little fluffy, suggesting he had a shower not long ago. His sweatpants are tight across his thighs and his sweater is a little on the large side, sleeves coming over his hands as he turns a page.

The peace in the room is something you haven’t experienced all day. Namjoon deserves this, though. He’s been working extremely hard, pushing himself to the edge and then a little further with his music. These moments where he can read undisturbed on the couch are few and far between.

Artwork that he has hand-selected hangs on the walls. There are stacks of books from you and he combined on the coffee table, on the floor next to the couch, and near the bookshelf which is overflowing.

Namjoon hasn’t noticed you, brows pinched tight and bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he flicks the page of his book. His glasses slide down his nose just slightly and you feel your heart swell, tears brimming your eyes again.

Coming home to this – to him – makes up a lot for your shitty day.

Tears spill over your cheeks and you sniff. Namjoon hears the noise, breaking from his reverie and looking up, eyes blinking owlishly behind his glasses. His reaction is instant, putting the book down on the back of the couch and unfolding himself, arms reaching toward you and face painted with concern.

“Hey come here,” he murmurs, standing as you rush to him, propelled by the sudden sob in your chest.

He doesn’t ask any questions. He doesn’t need to. His chest is warm and his sweat smells like him – a little bit of salt on skin with deep notes of lemon and something muskier. You squeeze your eyes shut as you wrap your hands around his middle. He anchors you in the tide of your frustration, arms coming to buoy around you, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

Namjoon’s heartbeat is steady against your ear. You let the rhythm lead you in a dance to steady your breathing. His arms are firm around your shoulders, hands rubbing up and down your back.

You don’t know how long you stand there. Namjoon is patient, letting the emotions bleed out of you like poison before applying soft kisses to your forehead, peeling you back to look down at you.

“How can I help?” his eyes are soft and searching. There is no pity there – only understanding. “What do you need from me?”

“Can you just-“ You sniff a bit. “Can you just let me lay with you while you read? That would be nice.”

He nods his head. You never have to ask twice with him. Namjoon knows every groove of your many moods, knows what silences to fill and what silences to leave empty.

Warm, smooth hands pull you onto the couch with him. He presses his back against the arm of the couch, one leg resting along the back of the couch with the other on the floor, creating a space for you to sit between his legs.

The couch sinks with your combined weight as you slot yourself between his legs, turning on your side with your back against the cushions and your body pressed against his chest. The soft rise and fall of his breath as he lets you adjust and tuck your head between his shoulder and neck is calming.

When you’re settled, eyes fluttering shut and taking a deep breath in to smell the lemon of his soap, Namjoon puts one hand on your head, fingers massaging your scalp lightly as the other hand reaches for his book. Once he confirms you’re comfortable, hands tucked into his sweater and eyes closed, he continues to read.

“Do you want some soft rain noises?” he murmurs, breath fanning against your skin. You nod, cheek smush against his sweater. He hums in response and asks the Alexa to turn on rain sounds, the room filling with hushed white noise. “Let me know what else you need.”

“Just this.”

“Just this?”

You feel warm and heavy – not with your stress, but with deep, unfettered affection for the man who wraps you in the safety of his arms. “Just this,” you agree, a small smile on your lips.

As long as it’s Namjoon, it will always be just this.

#namjoon fluff #kim namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon bts #boyfriend namjoon #sfw #haliiimede requests #bts fanfic #kim namjoon bts

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honey-milk-depresso · 3 years

Text

Octavinelle cute s/o who’s a feral driver

Finishing drafts :PP

**Notes: All characters are grown up to legally drive, domestic life with the Octatrio individually, fluff, crack, slight cussing

==============================================================

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul loves you with his heart really.

You’re his adorable lover and now that he’s married with you,

it feels like a dream come true knowing you’re under the same roof as him, as two lovers together.

You’ve always been someone kind and caring,

and you’re so gentle and patient with him,

even with the whole contracts problem, you forgave him and still continue to love him octopus or not.

You told him he’s Azul and you only love Azul.

So-

Imagine him,

rushing to work,

he asks you to drive and-

“FCKING BITCH- MOVE ASIDE YOU FCKS- MY HUSBAND IS GONNA BE LATE FOR WORK BECAUSE OF YOU DUMBFCKS-”

He was so shock.

Like-

What happened to his kind and gentle s/o???

WTF IS GOING ON-

As he sees you continuously spitting out cusses at the other drivers during the rush hour, sticking out the middle finger at them and honking super aggressively-

He- he doesn’t know wtf happened to you- it’s like you’re an entirely new person.

Once you dropped you off at work, you smiled warmly at him and wished him a good day while apologising to Azul hearing you... um... get angry at some of the troublesome drivers- he waved it off and kissed your forehead, though he’s still quite shaken by your sudden shift of attitude.

Azul still might feel a little shaken by your feral driver side, by he still loves you and he still treats you like the love of his life <3

But- remind him never to make you pissed-

Jade Leech

You are his precious pearl,

and kind and gentle soul harbours in your heart that you share willingly to him,

and he shares his willingly with you.

Even after so many years, you have stayed together,

and being married to you has been something he truly never regrets.

Just living with you in a simple house,

growing and loving mushrooms with you.

And he thinks you’re quite a gentle person, you don’t really get mad most of the time.

Well, not at him at least-

So when he needed a lift from work

to get back home-

you offered to pick him up-

and-

like-

*aggressive car honking* “FCKING MOVE BASTARD- DINNER IS GONNA BE FCKING COLD AND I HAVE TO COOK IT AGAIN YOU BITCHES- DO YOU WANT MY HUSBAND TO STARVE YOU MOTHERFCKERS?? THEN WHY DON’T YOU-”

Stares at you with wide eyes.

He’s.... somehow pleasantly surprised??

He’d never expected you to become so... aggressive when you’re angered by something like traffic jams.

How amusing.

He grin at the other people who seemed to get their tongues caught at how angry you were at them, and glared at others while also sharply slamming his hand on the car horn, as you cussed at the person who almost knocked into you.

Ah, what a nice and refreshing day with the love of his life <3

Floyd Leech

Shrimpy being his lover and now as a married couple!

He still treats you like how he was with you back in NRC; like as if you two were dating again.

Floyd honestly thinks you’re so adorable,

and just a side note-

Floyd loves hugging you from behind and laying his forehead on your shoulder, asking what you’re doing today.

OIKJDBJKDHJD I’M SORRY TODAY IS FLOYD SIMPING DAY DJHUDGJHGDHGDHGDHGD-

AHWAWWAWAWAWA- I WANT TO HUG HIM TOO-BVSHVS

Floyd never really thought much about you being-

like-

f e r a l-

But-

the time when you drove him back home-

and-

you know-

“FCKING-” *aggressive car honking* “YOU BITCHES ARE STUPID OR WHAT- YOU’RE TURNING INTO MY LANE AND ALMOST FCKING KILLED US YOU MOTHERFCKS, DUMBSHITS, MY HUSBAND AND I NEED TO GET BACK FOR DINNER- WHO TF DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, FCKING DUMBASSES-”

sevens-

this-

is-

B E A U T I F U L-

He’s surprised, but he joins in lmao-

“YEAH, YOU SHITS- MOVE-”

Cussing together, but started laughing by how stupid you guys are and how stupid the drivers are as well.

All feral road rage quits seemed to die out as you both laugh by how coordinated you guys were.

You’re feral side is sure something he’ll remember <3 do it again to that driver-

reblogs help! ^^

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