#he will literally get chilled from drinking too much cold water

[taibhsearachd]

I put this narwhal toy down next to the radiator and he IMMEDIATELY nestled into it. Winter is hard when you are a tiny little boy.

[idontknowreallyidontcare]

Can I get more horndog Nikto pls? Like Nikto legit wanting the reader every way emotionally and physically, becoming territorial of them, and the reader doesn't take him seriously because they don't wanna be another conquest. Sad horny boi lol

HORNDOG!NIKTO FOR MY NIKTO GIRLS.

- He is jealous, it’s pretty much in his Slavic dna to be, so once you show him a bit of affection without strings attached, he gets territorial. Nikto does a lot of questionable things to ensure the recruits know you’re off limits. From standing really close to you no matter what you’re doing at that moment, to literally pressing himself against your body like a horny dog. The creepiest thing he’s done was probably standing in a corner, intensively watching you read from afar. Recruits would get scared about coming to you for advice because he was there, awkwardly staring and they would get chills (he’s just so silly!).

- The first time Nikto got to know your sweet side was when you made biscuits for the barracks and decided to bring some to him too. He was not the type to hang around the base, so having such sweet little thing like you come and knock on his door with a bag of biscuits was very surprising and suspecting on his side. He found you hot, there was no denying, so having many other instances where you would do something for him without asking anything in exchange was starting to grow onto him. You always brushed it off, how possessive he began to be about you, thinking he was just an awkward adult that didn’t get to learn proper socialization, and well part of that was true. You kept brushing his affections off, he was like that and nothing could change him. You knew he liked women, too much for your own good, and part of you did not want to end up as another conquest.

- Many times he grew frustrated of you, because no matter how many signs he gave, you always seemed to not understand, or maybe not care at all. He would touch you, press himself into you, sweet talk to you, yet all you would do is pat his head and crack a joke, continuing with your duties and leaving him there, by himself, contemplating weather he should just give up and leave you be. And truth is he was close to leave you be many times.

- What he didn’t know was that you kinda felt the same, you always found in Nikto a safe place, from the instance you joined KorTac he was always there, sure he was as hard as a rock at the beginning, but you made your way into the small remains of his cold, broken heart. It started strangely, you’ve seen him alone once, back laid on the side of a small balcony, while his gaze was lost into nothingness. It hit you, how he was never around, he was never with the boys, never made attempts to make friends, and part of you knew he was afraid, afraid of scaring anyone. Truth is recruits always feared him, even if he never gave them a reason to. The only person he would get along with was König, and occasionally you’d see him in Horangi’s or Kreuger’s company. His mask was most of the times on, and you started to pity him. Such a poor, lonely man. God knows the last time he felt the warm touch of a woman, and not the touch you feel when the only thing you do is fuck, because he did not lack intercourse in his life, but the loving touch of a woman genuinely caring about him? That’s a whole different story.

- You started small, afraid of coming off too clingy. You brought him biscuits, you always made sure to carry a bottle of water at practice, knowing he would always drink a lot and would remain without one lot of times. You’d pass him your bottle and he’d thank you, almost shyly if you squint. You’d bring his clothes to his room from the drier, your excuse being that you were already there so why not, you’d cook for him sometimes too, well not really, it was just that you accidentally poured too much of this or too much of that and being alone on the base you didn’t want it to go to waste, excuses on excuses that were always working. You always thought he was a bit too silly to understand what you were actually doing, and you were right. He just thought you were constantly friend zoning him.

- It was difficult once he actually accepted what you were giving to him and he wanted more. Ignoring him when he got too needy, when he was too close, when he made advances and all you could do was joke or excuse yourself to another room. Truth is you were scared too because what has started as a small act of kindness towards a lonely teammate, became a lot more, and you didn’t know how to handle it.

- One particular night brought out all the hidden emotions. Coming from a mission was always the best time of the year, week, month, it was just the best time, not only because you were alive, but because you could finally rest and turn your brain off. Well for Nikto it was a yes no situation, he was happy to be alive but coming at the base where he would be ‘confined’ again due to his loneliness, was not something he was dreadful about. This time was just too much, and after what felt like hours of contemplation he just went for it. A soft knock on your door late into the night awakened you, not that you were particularly deep into sleep, since the arrival time from the mission was not long ago, but it woke you up, and you opened, for some reason finding yourself in front of who you actually expected to come. Nikto stayed still, admiring you for a bit, just for you to grab his hand and pull him into the room. You didn’t care anymore, after almost loosing him this many times of the battlefield the only thing you wanted to do was hug him. And you did, he dreamed about this moment for months, and it came so unexpected yet so sweet. The night was spent between kisses and hugs, late talks between two people that were too afraid to fall asleep because of the fear of this all being a dream.

- Actually labeling your relationship with Nikto changes many dynamics. He gets bolder definitely, he’s more secure and shows off more. Being in a relationship with him is giving him access to your privacy also, and he makes sure he takes advantage of it. He shamelessly ravages your panty drawer, sneaks up on you in the common showers, after gym becomes a gig where you’re trying to run and shower and he’s after you saying how hot you look right now and how you should let him bring you to his room first. Sex is something utterly surprising for you, you would’ve not given him half the credits he actually deserved, because he does know how to please you, and he’s avid with it. He’ll be a dog for you, waiting and begging and pleading until you give it to him.

- Ride his face he LOVES it, just use him as your personal seat and he’s cumming in his pants no lie. He’s a sucker for your pleasure, also a big voyeur, he tried to fuck you many times in the main hall, or in the showers, he once succeeded in the kitchen, and oh boy you could not look into the eyes of some of your female colleagues for a week straight. Nikto is always eager to try something new, that’s because he finally has you, his woman, and prefers to do with you all the things he never got to experience. He always told himself that he’d prefer waiting to do certain things only with the woman of his dreams, and there you were finally, ready to let him fuck you up, or the other way around.

- When I call Nikto a dog is because I mean it. The utter loyalty this man has for you is something straight out some romance movie. You’ll start to notice how his eyes are always on you, no matter the surroundings, no matter the circumstances, and the utterly look of an enamored man he gives you always succeeds to make you weak in the knees. He is avid, lustful, borderline possessive about you, like a feral dog that’s protecting the only thing that he ever got to call ‘his’. And don’t get off the birth control, because he brings to the bedroom each and every ounce of possessiveness he shows outside.

[perpetuallyobsessed0613]

Fontaine Characters Headcanons/Theories

Some of this info is known cause the siblings info got released but still:

Focalors

Hedonist

Really only in it for entertainment (she’s just….kinda a loser 💀💀💀😭😭😭)

Hot-headed, a little childish, gives Neuvillette a hard time (yeeeah)

Would give up her Gnosis in a heartbeat if it was needed to place a bet

But would fight tooth and nail to get it back if she lost the bet

Hydro Archon (confirmed)

Hydro (confirmed, duh) /Sword (confirmed based on her Statue of the Seven)

Arlecchino

Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers

The Knave

Used to be an actress

Method actress, used methods so outlandish she was kicked from theater

From Fontaine originally (HAH I WAS RIGHT)

Used to be an orphan

Runs an orphanage called House of the Hearth, uses it to recruit Fatui agents (!!!!!)

Those aren't gloves on her hands, she bears a curse or she's been turned into a non human entity

Pyro vision/Sword (leaks confirm she’s a Polearm!)

Cryo Delusion

Neuvillette

Stone cold serious type (he’s literally the sweetest I love him????)

Huge proponent of justice (yup!)

Chief Justice of Fontaine

Puts up with Focalors’s attitude (Pretty much 😭)

Loyal to Archon (or is he)

Descended from mermaids (YALL YALL APPARENTLY HE'S THE HYDRO DRAGON SOVEREIGN???????!!!! WTF OMG)

Waiting for Wriothesley to slip up so he can put him in the slammer once and for all (political rival mayhaps idk)

His name deconstructed means "new city": mayhaps he's awaiting a moment to dethrone the archon and reconstruct Fontaine?

Hydro/Sword (apparently he's a Catalyst user,,,,missed the opportunity to give him a fencing sword as a weapon but whatever ig)

Clordine

Assistant to Neuvillette

Bodyguard (yeeeah)

Prosecutor of Fontiane

Detail oriented, nothing gets past her

Vicious and Merciless (literally kinda the opposite but kinda not)

Eventually goes up against Arlecchino

Navia is her arch nemesis, seems as though Goldilocks is the only one having fun with their game of cat & mouse (the way I was off)

Electro (confirmed) /new weapon: Gun (Sword!)

Lyney

Super protective of Lynette (rightfully so holy shit) 

Loves the chase

Cunning (eeeeh)

Very street smart (I mean kinda yeah)

You can’t tell whether he’s putting up a front, actually enjoys his web of lies, or a little bit of both

This man's gonna get used while thinking he's using the person that's using him at some point (oh Arlecchino I swear to god you better not)

Pyro (confirmed)/Bow (confirmed)

Lynette

Something has happened to her in the past (…..well that was dark)

She’s not temperamental at all (yup)

She doesn’t smile too easily (mhm)

Strongest bond with Lyney (they twins lesgo)

Perceptive and agile (very!)

Lynette escapes her brother’s net of safety to save the traveler at some point (not so likely)

Anemo (confirmed) /Sword (confirmed)

Freminet

Youngest sibling (yup)

introverted/enjoys personal space and quiet (lmfao I knew it)

Love for the water

Renowned Diver of the Court of Fontaine (confirmed)

Silent protector of both his older siblings (idrk)

Highkey that smartest book-wise out of the siblings (again idk)

Cryo (confirmed) /Claymore (confirmed)

Sigewinne

Healer

Alchemist

Provides treatment for Wriothesley’s visual impairment

If not treatment, then she prefers sweet tasting drinks and Wriothesley prefers bitter but she still tries to get him on her new concoctions

Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Wriothesley

Hydro/Catalyst

Wriothesley

May or may not be somewhat visually impaired

If so, not particularly compliant with treatment

If not treatment, then he prefers bitter tasting drinks and sometimes humors Sigewinne by trying her new concoctions, mostly just pretends he’s converted to sweet and then goes for coffee or tea anyways

Likes to tease Sigewinne

Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Sigewinne

Investigator for Fontaine justice system (woeful news, he's a police officer. like not even a detective dude?)

Seems pretty chilled out, strategic, could be leading the organized crime w/Navia in secret

if he is secretly running robinhood-esque crimes with navia, then...Neuvillette sniffs something suspicious but never has the evidence to back it oop

Pyro/Claymore (He’s a Cryo Catalyst but his fists go boom boom like Heizou)

Navia

Gives off Focalors vibes (was very wrong)

Playful (yeah I mean yeah)

Career Thief OR

Notorious organized criminal in Fontaine (literally what was I on)

Robin Hood of the sewers (I mean I was kinda sorta a tiny bit right)

Crafty, craftsman (ummm I guess her mind is?)

Super sweet, wonderful character (loved her so yes)

Loves messing with Clordine by making her think she's got her but escaping right in the nick of time (….needless to say I was way off)

Geo (confirmed)/Catalyst (claymore actually)

[dragon-ascent]

Hey, I wanted to wish you a quick recovery 🧡 Imagine Zhongli wrapping himself around you as you snivel in your sickness, maybe he even drinks some cold water so his now just-as-cold tongue can lap at your forehead to chill you down. Imagine him purring as he lays his head on half your body to soothe any pains, the vibrations easily reaching all your sore spots - boosting your immune system too. I can see him letting you lie in his mane, that silken fur, just to see you comfortable, close and warm enough if you get the chills. Reading your mind to not let you strain or overexert yourself. This god knows a lot about mortal sickness, and will know exactly what you’ll need, he will find it hard to leave your side as he feels that very strong urge to look over you. Maybe even as you lie in his mane he will saunter around and his slow steps too will keep you steady and soothed. Morax will easily make you (literally, if a hot spring is not found nearby I can see him shaping one for you, and legends will forever cite it as his the hot spring he made in care for his lover) a bath if needed, finding a hot spring that can soften your muscles and nerves, bathing you carefully. Depending too on what timeline you imagine, I can see him choosing to soar across the skies to bring you remedies, and he knows just the herbal blend to help you with your sleep and aches. But he won’t be away too long either, and is quick to pick you up from that lavish bed of silk again - having you close yet again. This deity is so doting!

I just wanted to give you something back, as your writing always manages to make me so giddy and brightens my day 🧡 Take care now

Oh my gosh anon YOU ARE SO SWEET ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ I've been feeling all those symptoms you mentioned, and you wrote Dragonli and his remedies to those so amazingly!! I feel better just reading this (╥﹏╥)♡ soft caring gentle dragon god...I love!!!! Very much!!!!! 🧡🧡

I will recover ASAP so I can give back to you with more and more writing that you'll like, I promise~!

[c0la-queen]

All We Need (Is Each Other) | Eddsworld Roommates x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: Minor violence, alcohol mentions, I know nothing about British life

Word Count: 1.3K

---

You sighed at the feeling of water soaking into the back of your collar. No matter how many times you towel dried your hair after a shower, it still got your shirts wet. The house was fairly quiet, being so empty. The hallway lights were off, and the living room was illuminated by only the TV. You passed through to the kitchen to grab a drink, but paused.

A figure sat on the end of the couch, curled up against the armrest. His hood was pulled over his head, the red material fighting the electronic blue light. His face was turned to the television, but one glance at the mindless infomercial could tell you that he wasn't paying attention. You walked over and leaned on the back of the couch. He didn't notice, which was very uncharacteristic.

"Tord?"

The mention on his name shot his focus to you. He looked startled.

"I didn't realize anyone else was home."

"Clearly. Are you okay?"

His lips pressed together into a flat line. The message was clear. He didn't want to talk about it. A moment of tense silence passed by. One minute, then two.

"Do you want to help me bake?"

"What?"

You pointed back at the bright lights of the kitchen.

"I've got some cupcake mix that I planned to use Sunday. But I think this is a better occasion."

Tord rolled his eyes, as if the mere idea of him baking was the most ridiculous thing ever. Still, he got to his feet and followed you.

---

Edd pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to slam his head into the steering wheel of his car. He had taken a short trip to the grocery store. Literally only twenty minutes to grab some drinks.

Somehow, in those twenty minutes, his friends had managed to start another argument. He watched his notifications exploded with the ring of Discord messages. Usually he was the first to mediate these fights, as was his responsibility as owner of the server. This time, he didn't even have the energy to see what it was about. Instead he sat in the near empty parking lot. He probably looked like a creep, staring at his phone with the car still off.

How were these the same people he met all those years ago? It seemed like the ones he had befriended at that convention were total strangers compared to the pixelated usernames flooding his screen. At the beginning, he loved having online friends. They were fresh faces, people he shared common interests with. That magic faded over time.

At the sight of a DM from one of the friends, he shut his phone off. He threw it in the passenger seat and fumbled for his keys. It was time for a break from them. He'd let them know when he got home.

---

The noise was getting to be too much. Tom gripped his glass tighter. Behind him, two girls that were his "friends" screamed at each other. Everyone else in their group gathered around, either trying to extinguish the flames or build them higher. He sat with a bored indifference. This exact argument had been played out countless times before. The same people, different people, more people, it all ended the same way; a fight, a night in jail, and an ended relationship.

Right on cue, the sound of a slap rang out. More shouting accompanied, more impacts after that. What was it this time? Oh yeah, Blonde Girl #1 slept with Brunette Girl #3's boyfriend. What they didn't know is that Brunette #2 slept with him, too.

He tipped back his glass, downing the rest of his drink. The clear liquid burned as it went down, similar to the string of the slap in the argument. Still silent, he handed his money to the bartender.

As he meandered to the door, he put his hands in his pants pockets. The bartender got involved now, his ringing voice muffled by the closing door. The chill of the night sobered up his senses. Despite the cold, he leaned against the car, awaiting Matt's arrival. After the second minor accident, he promised the others that he'd stop drinking and driving, no matter how little the amount.

He really needed to rethink who he went to the bar with.

---

Matt sighed woefully as he closed up the store. All the other clerks had went home, leaving him with the company of the display mannequins.

He had never felt so... unfulfilled before. It wasn't the job, he loved working the fashion scene. Even if it was in the mall, nothing made him happier than helping other people find their styles.

He traced his hands through the aisles. The fabric sliding through his fingers like water was home. He knew each material, every stitch and thread. What was wrong?

It hit him like a flash. It wasn't the work, it was the people. He loved his coworkers, sure. But they were so immaterial. There was no substance to their interactions. Only "he said, she said", "did you see that guy", and "I can't believe she'd wear that" made up their conversations. It was tiring. After so many years of those hollow friendships, when was too much? Not like he was going to say anything, though. No, he was too much of a people pleaser to do that.

Bag in hand, he waved goodbye to the odd person still closing up shop in the mall. Those interactions were fine. They were direct and simple. "I know you enough to recognize you so I'll give you a basic social courtesy, nothing more." Not small talk wearing a mask of intimacy.

It was fortunate that the bar Tom frequented was right next door to the mall. Carpooling was so much easier when one could just walk across the sidewalk that separated the two parking lots.

Tom eyed his ginger companion.

"You look like shit."

"'I could say the same to you."

Matt glanced over at the commotion by the door, watching two girls being dragged out by police. Tom tossed him they keys.

"You don't wanna know."

The two climbed into their seats and started the journey home. Matt smiled softly into the night.

"Looks like we both need new friends."

---

All three boys pulled into the driveway at the same time. Tom raised an eyebrow at Edd when they got out.

"Where were you?"

He held up the newly bought carton of milk as an answer.

Once inside, they were all hit with the sweet smell of fresh baking.

---

You turned to the kitchen doorway, laughing at the sight of Edd, Tom, and Matt crowded around. They must have smelled the cupcakes and come to investigate. Your assistant had his back turned, too busy applying frosting to see the new arrivals. Edd grinned while pulling out his phone.

"Tord, are you wearing an apron?"

He whipped around, but it was too late. The moment he faced the other three, Edd's camera flashed.

"Delete that right now."

"Not a chance!"

You knew Tord was about to charge, so you held up the pan in your hands. Pot holders served as a barrier between your skin and the metal.

"Hot pan here, please don't fight!"

With a grumble, Tord went back to his task. You could see the faint tint of red on his ears, but decidedly stayed silent.

Matt was practically starry eyed.

"What kind of cupcakes did you bake?"

"They're strawberry! I had a feeling today was a pastry day."

The chorus of nods confirmed the idea. Apparently, they had all had a rough day.

You dusted your hands off after setting the pan on the stove.

"Why don't you guys wash your hands and help Tord out?"

"Frosting these things is surprisingly calming."

[klausysworld]

Klaus taking care of y/n when they’re ill 🤒

(just fluffy/soft klaus loving y/n)

A loud banging woke me from my restless sleep and i groaned in pain and exhaustion. The knocking continued as i shifted under the layers of blankets, a chill ran through my body and my arms collapsed underneath me as i attempted to lift myself

“y/n! for god’s sake love would you answer the bloody door!? i can literally hear you breathing! not answering my texts is one thing but not letting me inside? it’s cold out here you know! …….love?” klaus’s voice was booming, far louder than normal.

“my love… i said i was sorry… Elena she pushed at me a little too hard and i retaliated… i know she’s your sister and i promised her no harm… i’m..i am sorry y/n. Please just open the door okay? You’re worrying me”

i used as much strength as i could muster to drag myself off the couch. I sluggishly moved across the room and pulled the door open

“finally! honestly love y…. bloody hell what… are you alright?” he was inside instantly, the door pushed closed and my body held tightly to his. A cold hand pressed to my face as klaus gently lift me up to sit on his hip but my arms ached far too much to wrap around his neck so i simply slumped against his form.

“you’re boiling sweetheart. We need to get you out of these pyjamas they’re far to thick” i shook my head and let out a raspy whine

“it’s so cold nik..” i sniffed into him.

“no love you’ve got a major temperature, come on we need to cool you down” he muttered into my hair kissing the top of my head after.

my fluffy jumper and pyjama pants were pulled off my body leaving me in my just my underwear shivering from the cool air. My jaw chattered and my whole body felt sore. i was put down onto my bed, the duvet moved aside leaving me on just the sheet

“just gonna grab you something to wear okay? you’ll feel much better tomorrow my love” my body curled itself into a ball and my eyelids fell shut, i felt myself go limp as i allowed my mind to go blank.

i could faintly feel my body lifted up, my back was pressed against something warm and soft fabric was pushed over my chest and torso, shorts were then slid up my legs and something freezing and damp was pressed against my forehead

the unexpected feeling jolted me fully awake, my gasp caused the air to tickle at my throat and i erupted into a fit of dry coughs and wheezes. Hands supported my back gently angling me forward as forceful hits went against my back

“it’s okay, you’re okay, you’ll be okay..” klaus’s voice whispered soothingly behind me as my coughing lessened and i immediately burst into tears, croaky sobs echoed into the room whilst he rocked me gently

“hurts nik, it hurts! everything hurts!”

the wet towel was pressed against me again, a cup pushed to my lips as his hand carefully tilted my head

“drink sweetheart drink, it’s just water okay?” i parted my lips in response allowing the ice cold liquid to flow down my swollen throat and sighing when the soreness eased a little

“there’s my good little love, promise it’s gonna feel so much better so soon, just rest my love, rest”

i was wrapped in the safety of the one i loved most and i knew he would hold me and care for me until i was better.

[brave-and-gentle]

Poetic: Reader x Jean Fluff Part 3

Welcome to my unexpected fluff mini series! If this is your first time here, please check out Part 1 and Part 2. I expected Part 4 to be the last piece in this series.

If you like this mini series, be sure to check out my original character x Jean fic on Ao3 here

Pairings: femme reader x Jean

Summary: You and Jean start warming up together (figuratively and literally, Trost is still cold as fuck), but there's something in between you two.

Warnings: alcohol use

Word count: ~4.7K (it keeps getting longer because I have no chill about Jean)

When you wake up, your stomach is twisted in a knot. Your mouth feels like someone shoved a wad of cotton inside of it. You roll over and find a tall glass of water with ice – someone must have put it there recently. Sasha? Footsteps and clanging of pots and pans echo in the kitchen. She must be making breakfast.

You grab the glass of water and recount the night as you take careful sips. Connie was just as wild as Jean said he'd be. As soon as you two walked into the apartment that Connie, Eren and Armin shared, Connie handed you both tequila shots. Reiner did not cry, but he did sulk as the TV in the living room replayed parts of the game. At one point, Annie got so fed up with Connie's bragging about the game that she punched him in the face, after which Armin took her home. Sasha squealed in delight that you came, emphasizing that it was always more fun with more girls around. She regaled you with the most interesting parts of the game, while Mikasa whispered bits of explanations to you. While you were grateful for Mikasa's interpreting, it became difficult to understand as Connie brought you some sort of tequila drink. Eren, itching for a fit, egged on Bertholt, who finally gave in and put Eren in a headlock, but that didn't seem to damper Eren's spirit as ultimately, his team had won the basketball game. Marco periodically handed glasses of water to everyone. And Jean? He stayed with you all night. You two didn't speak much, but his presence comforted you during the chaos. You're pretty sure he and Marco walked you, Sasha and Connie home. Definitely Connie too, his snores are almost as loud as Sasha bumping around in the kitchen.

Before you know it, your glass is empty and your cracked lips cry for more water. You swing your legs out of bed and ugh – dull pain pokes your legs. You throw on an old sweatshirt and take small steps to the kitchen.

You suck in a breath of air because it's not Sasha in the kitchen.

It's Jean.

“How'd you get in here?” you blurt. Jean turns his head and smirks, then returns his attention back to the frying pan.

“Good morning, sunshine. Sasha let me in and fell right back asleep,” he explains while tossing vegetables into the pan. They sizzle the second they hit the pan. Unlike Jean and Marco, you and Sasha live in a duplex with a separate entrance from your neighbors. “Omelet'll be ready in a couple minutes if you want.”

“Ugh,” you groan and take a seat at your four-person kitchen table. “I don't think I feel like eating for a while.”

“Your stomach probably hurts because you didn't eat anything last night.”

You huff in disagreement. “I didn't, but still – I feel gross.”

“Like you're going to vom?” Jean jerks his head over at you like he's ready to run for the trash can.

“No, I don't think so. Just. . . gross.”

Jean tosses the vegetables in the pan and nods. “Favorite hangover food?”

You rub your stomach, willing it to stop wrenching in a tight knot. “Ah, don't know because I haven't had a hangover before,” you confess.

“Wait, NEVER?” Jean looks over with disbelief in his widening hazel eyes.

“Historia and I didn't drink much,” you shrug. “Though we nursed Ymir back to health plenty of times.”

“Ha, sounds about right.” Jean grabs a plate of toast and sets it in front of you. “Here, maybe some toast will settle your stomach before anything more substantial.”

You take a piece and nibble on the crust. “You seem well versed in hangover recovery,” you say before taking a bigger bite.

“Had to be – Marco and I lived next to that gremlin our first year.” Jean points over to a snoring Connie on the couch.

“He's a menace to society,” you give a soft laugh. Jean flips the omelet onto a plate and sets it in front of you.

“For you, if you like. Otherwise Sasha will inhale it the second she wakes up.”

You thank him and take a careful bite. Sweet and savory swirls in your mouth – it's cheesy, sweetened with tomatoes and a hint of spice.

“Jean! This is soooo good,” you moan. The tension in your stomach eases with every bite.

“Pays off to be a mama's boy.” He flips a dish towel over his shoulder, sits down next to you and digs into the omelet he made for himself. “So how's the first hangover treating you?” He asks between mouthfuls.

“Not so bad with you here,” you admit. Before he can respond, Connie rolls over and awakens.

“Jean boy???” He yawns and rubs his eyes. “You makin' us breakfast?”

Jean replies that he made you breakfast.

“What about me??” Connie complains.

“Shhh,” you stop him. “Jean is doing the lord's work, let him rest.” You close your eyes and savor another bite. Sasha's door opens and she emerges with her comforter wrapped around her. Her mouth is wide open mid-yawn.

“Jeaaaaaan,” she yawns, “do I get sooooome?” She plops down on a chair next to you and combs her fingers through her tangled ponytail.

Jean narrows his eyes at her. “The first time I get to see your new place and you're already asking me to make you food?”

“Did you expect anything less?” You chuckle and grab another piece of toast. “You did, however, make food the minute you got in here. You did this to yourself.”

“Ugh, fine fine fine,” he groans and gets up to make omelets for Sasha and Connie. While he cooks in the kitchen, the three of you relieve the chaos of last night. Though you were far from blacking out, some memories are a little fuzzy.

“I still can't believe we went through that whole bottle of tequila,” you shake your head.

“Easy to do when you have a good group of friends,” Connie grins from the couch. Sasha throws her arm around your shoulder.

“Next time,” she tells you, “we'll keep Connie away from you. He's got a reputation for filling up people's drinks when they're only a few sips in.”

“No kidding,” Jean mutters and places two more plated omelets on the table. Connie dashes over and shovels the omelet in his mouth at a pace that almost rivals Sasha. “Yuck, you two are disgusting,” Jean glares at them.

You laugh so hard you clutch your stomach. You never imagined this amount of chaos and love at your kitchen table. Jean's face softens as he watches you laugh.

“Hey, do I have you on Insta?” He asks you.

You shake your head, unable to talk because you're still giggling. He unlocks his phone, but the background photo isn't the usual one of himself, Connie and Marco on the soccer field. It's a pale ass cheek. He clicks his phone shut and slams his hands on the table.

“CONNIE!!! What is wrong with you??”

This sends you and Sasha into another giggle fit.

“Hey man,” Connie holds his hands up and grins, “you left your phone unlocked and I was three tequila shots in. That's on you.”

“Why are you even here?” Jean jabs a fork at his friend.

“So I don't have to listen to Eren and Mikasa fuck like bunnies all night – again,” he emphasizes. Jean twitches next to you. You notice a shadow pass over his face. Or is it your imagination? He buries his face in his phone to change the background photo. “I much prefer when Annie stays over. Those two fuck like mice.”

“Ew, Connie!” You giggle. “We did not need the visual. Please spare us.”

“Here,” Jean mutters to you and hands you his phone, which has the Instagram app open. You type in your handle and request to follow. Your heart beats a little faster. You're no fool – you know that all social media is fake and filtered, but still, Jean's Instagram will give you a hint about how he sees himself, or at least, how he wants to be seen. “I gotta head out,” he says and shoves his phone in his pocket. “I'll see you degenerates later.”

“Thanks so much for breakfast, Jean!” Sasha beams and waves as Jean gathers up the leftover ingredients and heads out.

“Ditto,” you chime in. “Say hi to Marco for us.”

“Will do,” he nods and shuts the front door behind him.

You turn back to Sasha and Connie, who are munching on the last few pieces of toast. There's one left, which you and Sasha eye at the same time – but you're faster.

“Ha!” You proclaim victory and take a small bite. “That was really sweet of Jean. Is that a regular occurrence?”

“No,” Connie frowns and runs his hand over his buzz cut. “I was just thinking that it's really weird that he came over. He stopped taking care of my hangovers by the end of freshman year.”

“Probably because it was a weekly tradition,” Sasha teases. “Cleaning up your vomit isn't exactly fun the fourth time in a row. Anyways,” she turns to you. “He must really like you.”

“Wait, that's why he came over??” Connie's eyes widen. Everyone knew that you and Jean had gone to see the ice sculptures together, and that you frequently met up at the coffee shop, but only Sasha and Connie knew about the kiss. To their credit, they could actually keep a secret pretty well. Although Connie could only keep secrets because he usually forgot them.

“You are so dense sometimes,” Sasha shook her head.

“I dunno,” you pick up your place and head to the sink to wash it. “He was probably just being nice.”

“Jean is nice,” Sasha agrees, “but he doesn't come over and make breakfast for just anyone.”

“Mmmm,” you murmur, refraining from reading too much into it. It was definitely a boyfriend move. But just last night, he said you were friends. Friends. You rinse the plate and scrub off the omelet remains.

“Any developments? Anything at all?” Sasha presses. Your stomach tightens a little. You don't think you should mention the art fundraiser – it seems too personal.

“Well, we hung out together at a brewery instead of going to the basketball game. And we're going to hang out again sometime this week,” you admit and put the plate away.

“WHAT!” Sasha stands up and slams her hands on the table. Connie flinches away from her. “That is crucial information you left out!”

You hold up your hands in defense and lean your back against the kitchen counter. “It only just happened last night! I don't even know when or where we're hanging out next.”

“Don't worry, I'll make sure Jean boy gets the hint,” Connie smirks and purses his lips to make sloppy kissing noises.

“UGH!” You and Sasha groan at the same time and rush Connie to stop his slobbering.

“I'm never telling you anything again,” you mutter playfully and go back to your room to inspect Jean's Instagram. You flop on your bed and open up your phone. Your background photo is you, Historia and Ymir on graduation day, wearing the mandatory black robes despite the oppressive heat at the time. It was a stark contrast to Trost's current frigid spell.

Jean's Instagram profile picture is a shot of him kicking a goal at one of his last college games. You scroll through the rest of his photos. It's a wide range – photos of him, Marco, Connie and Sasha at various college activities, soccer games, Jean and his mom and stepdad, random poetry quotes, and of course, gym photos with Reiner, which you snort at.

Your phone buzzes and Jean's name appears at the top. You tap to open his text.

Hey, forgot to ask earlier – are you still free Wednesday nights? I know we usually meet at the coffee shop, but I thought we could do something different.

The corners of your mouth tilt up uncontrollably.

Are you suggesting we forgo our creative endeavors?? :o who are you??

Typing bubbles cross the bottom of your phone screen.

I would never! Consider this a creative field trip. I promise it'll make sense.

Your smile widens as you wonder what Jean could have planned for you two – that also has something to do with your creative dates.

Hmm. Alright. Sounds sus, but I'm trusting you.

You won't regret it. ;)

You can't help but giggle. You turn over and clutch your phone to your chest. You haven't felt this way for a while. Not since your sophomore year of college.

You had fallen hard and fast for a guy that lived just down the hall from you and Historia. You flirted back and forth for months, joking about you and Historia being the crazy, noisy roommates even though you two were usually studying in the library or watching movies together. Though you weren't one for parties, you always went when he asked if you were going, just for a chance to see him, maybe distant eye contact or a touch on the shoulder. You started dating and he made your heart sing – when he felt like gracing your with his presence. You weren't stupid. You knew he was stringing you along. You knew he was bored with you once the chase was over. But you held onto him for an entire year. An entire year of your life you now considered wasted.

The butterflies in your stomach twisted. This wouldn't be the same thing, right? Jean wasn't stringing you along, right?

~ ~ ~

Waiting for Wednesday night is agonizing. Work at the clinic is boring as per usual – check in families for their primary care appointments, make sure they had the correct insurance and scheduling them for their follow-ups. You try writing the story you've been working on every night, but your mind keeps wandering back to Jean, making any progress impossible.

As soon as you get out of work on Wednesday, you whip out your phone to text Jean.

We still on for tonight? What's the dress code?

You hop onto the train heading home and check his instant response.

Of course, your knight in shining armor wouldn't dare let you down. Dress code is anything you'd normally wear to the coffee shop – casual and cute. Shouldn't be too difficult for you.

You smirk and tuck your stray hairs behind your ear. And yet, the pit of your stomach turns a notch. He's being forward, too forward for just recently affirming that you were friends, nothing more.

You give him a thumbs up emoji and shove your phone in your pocket and watch the world whiz by as the train takes off. Just friends, you remind yourself. Jean's just flirty, that's all.

An hour later, you're almost ready to go. Sasha sits on the your bed and watches as you pick out your favorite high-waist black jeans and a blush pink sweater.

“You sure you don't want to wear this?” She asks and pulls out a tight fitting royal blue shirt. The sleeves and chest are mesh, just until it reaches your cleavage.

“Sash, it's way too cold for that!” You pull the sweater over your head.

“All I'm saying is Jean should be drooling over you,” she smirks and places the shirt back in your closet.

“Then he can drool over me in a sweater,” you roll your eyes and check your make-up in the mirror.

Knock knock

“I'll get it!” Sasha rushes to the front door before you have a chance to protest. “Hellooooo, Jean boy. She's ready for you.”

You grab your purse and rush out to meet Jean and playfully push Sasha away like a disgruntled teenager. You look up at the six-foot two man. He's also wearing a sweater – an amber brown that brings out his earthy hazel eyes.

“Hey,” you breath and grab your parka. Trost has warmed to an almost pleasant 15 degrees Fahrenheit.

“You two have fun,” Sasha waves her fingers and pushes you both out the door.

“Damn, she's looking to get rid of you. Is Nicolo coming over tonight?” Jean raises an eyebrow as you start walking.

“I don't think so. I think she's just happy to see me get out and do something – wait, where are we going, by the way?” You tense up as the wind picks up and scratches your face like a knife. Somehow, it didn't feel that much warmer than the cold spell a few weeks ago.

“Can't divulge that yet,” Jean sings and bounces in his step. You take longer strides to keep up with him. “We'll catch the train in a couple blocks.”

“Brrr,” you hum and attempt to shrink deeper in your parka like a turtle hiding in its shell. You two are silent for the next couple minutes, fast walking to the train to get out of the bitter cold. Luckily, the train pulls up as soon as you do. You find two seats together and take a moment to bask in the stale, but warm train car air.

“Sounds like living with Sasha has been good for you,” Jean circles back to your earlier comment. He takes off his knit hat, runs his hands through his hair, and gazes at you.

“Yeah, I really lucked out. Once Historia told me she was leaving I really thought that was it for me.” You play with your parka zipper, pulling it up and down.

“How so?” He tilts his head.

“I thought I'd be a recluse, friendless loser for the rest of my life,” you snort. “But really – how do you even make friends after college? That's what I was worried about. So many of mine moved away and we're already starting to lose contact.”

“Yeah, I hear you. What do you miss about them?”

“Their company more than anything. Someone to hang out with on random night. ” You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “But if I'm being honest. . . I don't know if I miss them.” Jean's eyebrows rise. “Don't get me wrong, I really miss Historia and Ymir,” you correct, not wanting him to think you're totally heartless. “But some others, I'm not sure why we were friends, now that I think about it.”

“I think I get it,” Jean nods and stretches his arm across the back of your train seat. “Friends by proximity?”

“Right,” you confirm. “And there's nothing necessarily wrong with that, but having friends with similar interests and values hits different.”

“And do you feel like you have that now?” He leans in closer to you. You can smell his cologne – fresh pine.

“I think I'm getting there. . .” you trail off, “though I suppose it might depend on what you have in store for us tonight.” The train slows to a halt. Jean perks up.

“This is our stop.” He hops off his seat and holds out a hand to you. “Milady?”

You laugh and take his hand as you stand up and walk outside with Jean. He holds on to your hand and guides you as you both fast walk to get to whatever your destination is as soon as possible. With his long strides, it's almost like he's dragging you.

He pauses at a nondescript corner that most people would walk by and not notice anything. Except for you. Jean opens a small iron gate, which creaks, and he motions you forward.

“For real?” You grin as you walk through the gate and down the concrete steps that lead into a basement entrance. “How'd you know?”

Jean shrugs. “Lucky guess.”

You glare at him – because this isn't a spot just anyone could guess at. He hops in front of you to open the door. “Alright,” he confesses, “during the after party, I overheard you telling Armin that you and Historia used to come here and that you missed it.”

You give a soft smile and enter into the warm basement. The yellow lights are dim and glow along the stone walls. To your left is a small bar, serving mostly just beer and wine. In front of you are rows of brown wooden chairs and benches. At the very front of the room is a lone microphone.

“I have missed it,” you sigh and unzip your parka. “It felt weird to come here alone.”

“Welp, now you have me,” Jean grins. He points to the bar. “Can I grab you something to drink?”

“Any kind of white wine,” you shrug.

Jean eyes widen and he clutches his hands to his chest. “White wine? In the dead of winter??” He mocks. “That's monstrous!”

“It's what I prefer, okay?” You laugh and wave. “I'll go find us some seats.” You walk to the third row, close enough to see, but not so close to feel awkward. You drape your parka on the back of a chair and sit down.

You took your first creative writing class your sophomore year of college. When your professor mentioned a poetry slam at a local venue, you were immediately intrigued – and terrified. It was an unknown, something you'd heard of but never seen. The idea of sitting alone petrified you, so it was a relief when Historia said she would go with you. That first time, the poets had mesmerized you. They bared their souls to total strangers and spoke of unrequited love, white-hot passion, heart wrenching devastation, numb depression, child-like glee, and unbridled hope.

“One white wine for one uncultured woman,” Jean interrupts your flashback and hands you a glass of chilled chardonnay. He sits beside you and holds a mug with steaming contents.

“Says the one who's never been to a poetry slam,” you throw back and take a sip of the chilled wine. Jean smirks into his mug. “And what did you get?”

“Mulled wine. Much more appropriate for this time of year. You want a sip?”

You nod and exchange drinks. The cinnamon, cloves, and orange spices take over your senses and warm your body from head to toe. You don't realize you're groaning until Jean gives you a gentle kick. “Regretting your drink choice?”

“No,” you narrow your eyes at him. “Sometimes I like having drinks out of season. It reminds me of a different time.”

“And what does chilled white wine on a winter's night remind you of?” Jean leans in closer to you. He takes a sip of your drink in the exact same place your mouth was. He doesn't break eye contact.

“It reminds me of . . .” you trail off, struggling to think with his earthy hazel eyes warming you from the inside out. “It reminds me of sitting by the river with my friends on an early summer night. We'd talk and laugh all night. Someone would bring a guitar. We'd watch the sun go down and the fireflies come out.”

“Sounds mesmerizing -”

“Alright everyone, thank you for coming to our weekly poetry slam,” a woman in dark jeans and a black turtle neck takes the floor and interrupts your conversation. You and Jean re-exchange drinks. “Our first poet has been a regular here for nearly a decade. . .”

~ ~ ~

After the poetry slam, Jean treats you to his favorite wine bar in Trost. He orders two flights without even looking at the menu.

“I'm taking it upon myself to educate you on better winter wine options,” he says and pushes the first flight toward you. “Though I have to say, you did make white wine in winter almost sound poetic.”

“I'm insulted,” you roll your eyes and swirl the first glass of red wine. “Am I doing this right by the way?” You raise your pinky finger. “Do I look pretentious enough?”

“You look pretentious and poetic,” he laughs and raises his glass. You both say “cheers” and take a sip. “Speaking of,” he sets his wine glass down. “Have you ever performed there?”

“No, I've never performed at all,” you confess.

“Really? I thought that'd be right up your alley.” He leans back in his chair and gazes at you.

“Yeah, I've thought about it,” you tug on the ends of your hair. “But I never worked up the courage to. It's so different than submitting writing to a journal. It really is an entirely different art form.”

“Do you want to?” Jean asks. You've never met anyone who holds your gaze as steady as he does. His earthy hazel eyes haven't left you since sat down.

“Um,” you chew on your bottom lip. “Maybe. I'm not sure. I feel like I haven't written anything worth sharing in months.” You take a sip. “You know, you're lucky in that respect.”

“How so?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You get to create for your job. It's worked into your schedule. Maybe if I were doing something like that, I'd have something worth sharing. I feel like every day I come home exhausted from just existing and I don't want to write.”

“I dunno,” he sighs. “The grass is greener. I get to create, but I'm creating with a bunch of middle school kids who are constantly flirting or kicking each other off their chairs. Or both,” he chuckles. “Sometimes I feel like I'm burning myself out with creating simply for the sake of creating. On the bright side,” he pauses and gestures to you, “you get to be more intentional about your writing.”

“I suppose there's that,” you concede.

“Plus,” Jean adds, “I bet you do in fact have writing worth sharing. You can always use something from the past as inspiration.”

“Hmmm,” you hum into your wine glass. The alcohol is coursing through veins. You're not sure if the heat in your face is from the wine or Jean as he leans in closer to you. “Alright, enough creative talk for now. Tell me your weirdest stories about the middle school menaces.”

Jean laughs and launches into a story about a kid who thought it would be funny to staple his tongue.

Your stomach aches with laughter as Jean tells you story after story about the kids he teaches. You finish the wine flights and hop back on the train.

It's late for you on a Wednesday night. Despite the bright lights of the train, your eyelids are heavy and your head nods until you rest on Jean's chest. You feel his gentle fingertips brush your hair behind your ear. The train jolts to a stop.

“Hey,” he whispers in your ear and squeezes your shoulder. “We're home.” You pry your eyelids open and follow Jean out the train door. The wind whips your hair around and you groan that it's freezing. Jean grabs your hand.

“C'mon, the quicker we get you home, the quicker we're warm,” he says and pulls you along.

“I can't keep up with your spider legs!” You laugh and run to keep up with his strides.

“Spider legs??” He exclaims. You can't see his facial expression since he's wrapped up in homemade scarf. “That's a new one.”

You're both giggling as you approach your duplex and fiddle to find the right key with your frozen fingers.

“Ahhh,” you sigh and burst into the heated living room. Sasha's no where to be found – either up to some shenanigans with Connie or fast asleep in bed.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” Jean grins. “I hope it makes up for the uh, painting incident.” He scratches the back of his neck.

Even though it absolutely does, you want to tell him that it doesn't. You search your mind for any reason to stay in his company longer.

“I think it's a good start,” you tease. “Thanks for the surprise.”

“Ha,” he huffs, “how many more times do I have to take you out?” He takes a step closer to you. You have to crane your neck up to keep eye contact.

“Mmm, I'll let you know. It might take a few weeks. . . or months.”

“You are a demanding woman,” he laughs and shakes his head. You can smell the spice of red wine on him. He leans down a little and – you swear you see a shadow cross over his face. “So I'll see you for trivia tomorrow night?”

“Oh – uh, sure.” You fumble.

“Great.” Jean winks at you and steps out the door.

You close the door behind him and wonder what is haunting Jean Kirstein.

[skzhera]

One shot w Seungmin!

They were all supposed to go for a party tonight, but last-minute cancellations led to just Seungmin and Hera being able to go to the party. Generally, if they have to go out right after a full day of work/ college/ assignment, Chris was the one to make sure everybody had at least a little bit of food in their stomach, to avoid an awful day later. He would ask them to have a piece of bread, a sandwich, some leftovers from the previous night, some rice, literally anything.

But today, all of them had really busy schedules all day and had simply planned on meeting right before the party, when Seungmin would pick her up. It completely slipped his mind that she would not have eaten anything before drinking and had gotten horribly sloshed just after four drinks.

(Hera learned drinking with Seungmin, Changbin and Lee Know. Their tolerance for alcohol was beyond. And so was hers’. A couple of drinks wouldn’t do nothing to her.)

In that moment, Seungmin was just enjoying the party, letting Hera shed off her introverted coat, and dance her heart away on the dance floor with a bunch of other idols. It was always a thought behind his mind, that made him wonder if he made the right decision being with her in this industry, if asking her to join at such a young age made her loose all her youth away? But watching her so carefree, so young and innocent, make his heart smile a lot more than he would admit.

It was around 2 in the middle of the night when Seungmin decided to wrap things up for the both of them. If given a choice, Hera would be here all night.

He made his way though the crowd and gently grabbed Hera by her forearm, made sure she knew it was him or they’d be a lot of kicking and struggling, and gently escorted her out, near the bar. He asked for a glass of water.

Seungmin: *We should get going. It’s pretty late Hera.*

Hera: *Yeah, well. I kinda have one issue.*

She looked at him with those puppy eyes.

*What is it?* Seungmin asked, not reading too much into it. Knowing her far to well to know that a drunk Hera is probably gonna put a really dumb request in front of him.

*I kinda needs help to sober up before going to bed…* She trailed off.

*yeah? And why is that? What do you have tomorrow?* minnie wondered. She has never made such a request before. Wanting to sober up was the last thing Hera would do after a long night.

*Uhhh… Oh yeah! Tomorrow Bin and I are going to film a little feature with thh…* And she trailed off again, shutting her eyes closed this time, placing her head on the bar counter beside her.

*Hera! Hey! With who?* Min tried shaking her up. She wasn’t allowed to pass out.

*Seventeen! With the Seventeen boys! Didn’t I say that? I think I said it right now Min! Look alive! C’mon!* Hera said, lifting her head up, shoving Seungmin’s shoulder with the bare minimum strength she had left.

*Oh right! That’s tomorrow morning?* Hera nodded, still her eyes closed.

*Well, then we gotta sober you up! Let’s go back to the dorms, I got this figured.* The drive back home was rough. Seungmin hadn’t had a single drink, so he was the one driving. But his rather bigger task on hand was keeping Hera up. They made their way back to the dorm, stumbling and shushing each other as the door unlocked.

He guided her to the bathroom and grabbed her one of his shirts, asking her to change into them. Once she did, he gently placed her in the bathtub.

*Okay Hera, this is gonna get a little cold, but you have to do this.*

And with that, my man walked himself to the kitchen, grabbed a chilled pint and sat on the rink of the tub, turned on the hand shower and held it right above her head.

Now, any other person would freak out with that untold sharp jolt of ice-cold water running down their head in the middle of the night. But not Hera.

It was their little practice. A sure shot way to sober up any given hangover. They had done this countless times before between the six of them (Hera, Changbin, Lee know, Chan, Hyunjin and Seungmin), it was rather a common practice. It was something Lee know and Hera had come up with to sober up after parties, on a weekday night. Out of all the boys, Chan and Seungmin were the ones to have most experience sobering up people around them since they began drinking quite later in their youth, which meant they were the designated care-giver.

If you know him, he loved every second of this.

Hera's Masterlist!

[writing-funsies]

OP characters with a soft s/o P.6

p.1 | p.2 | p.3 | p.4 | p.5 | p.6

pairings: Shanks x reader, Mihawk x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol

Shanks

partying is this man's middle name

he's here for a good time

not a long time

though, he'll probably be around for a long time

definitely a work smarter not harder type of guy

he doesn't see the point in worrying over stuff until the situation becomes serious

so he spends most of his time just having fun

traveling around

telling you really bad jokes

you laugh at some of them, but you don't hesitate to just stare at him if you don't find them funny

which always leaves him pouting

he gets over it thirty seconds later 

when he sees a cool fish or something to show you

he embodies that meme

you know the one

oh my gosh, you have a crush on me? how embarrassing

babe, we've literally been married for five years

that's even worse lol

you keep him from drinking himself into a coma

impressed that he hadn't done so before you met him

and when he has an especially bad hangover

you'll be there to give him cuddles and water and some medicine

which he fully takes advantage of

free pass to spend his entire day with you without interruptions?

yes, please

when he's had a long day

(ie Ben made him actually do some of his work)

(the audacity)

you pull him close and remind him that it's all worth it

life is one adventure at a time

and he's thrilled that you'll be there by his side to experience them with him

Mihawk

the swordsman is the very definition of chill

there aren't many things that can break through his facade

he just takes everything in stride

but then you arrived in his life

his home isn't exactly warm and welcoming

quite the opposite in fact

but with you there, the place has become quite lively

well, between you and Perona

you're the only person to make this man blush

the way you present him with a flower that reminded you of his eyes

or you found a new book that seemed to be right up his alley 

it really is the little things 

you make him appreciate the ordinary things life has to offer

and in exchange

Mihawk gives you his undying love

he may not be a man of many words

but your kindness never ceases to leave him speechless

as indifferent as he may seem

he is a hopeless romantic

you just bring out that side of him

between the way you keep the castle clean while he's gone

because he may live in an old castle but that doesn't mean it has to look abandoned

and cook with him

and surprise him with hot baths and a glass of wine

and read with him in the evenings

and smile at him when you think he's not looking

this man just cannot help but love you

sometimes, he feels he's too brash for you

he's not overtly violent

but he's done plenty of things in his life that would leave other people cold inside

yet you always find it within yourself to look at him so warmly

with just so much love

and tenderness

that all of his past actions don't matter anymore

with you, he always finds himself smiling

[btnclmrttn]

Hii! Could you do headcanons for Genos, saitama and Garou when they're sick?

Thank you so much <33

Great idea, thank you for the suggestion!

If they're sick

~~~~

Totally bummed his plans are ruined

He's a good boy and takes medicine/goes to the doctor if he needs to. He has shit to do and won't sit around waiting to be better

If he has a fever and chills, cold like symptoms, he can be a bit of a whiner, tbh. He'll sit and mope a good distance from his S/O because he wants to be held but doesn't want them sick

If he's just got a massive migraine and just body pain he's more irritable and won't talk much to avoid being rude. Just tries to sleep it off.

If he's sick, like nausea for example, he has a hard time. He HATES being nauseous and does not like throwing up at all. He'd probably get to a point where he don't even want to open his mouth or even drink water

You and/or Genos gotta help him out with his fear, make him stay hydrated at least, or he'll get worse. The both of you are a great team and can get him going easy

Unless it was a life-threatening illness he'd probably never end up in the hospital. In general he has good health with a side of some allergies every now and then

Now because he's a cyborg, the equivalent of him being sick is like needing/having an update

Maybe even phantom pains from when he was once human and had a serious injury lately

No medicine is needed, it's not like he has an actual immune system

He's a little forgetful, sluggish, sleepy, and randomly has inaudible speech. He'll zone out and sleep mode will activate out of the blue. It isn't very common he "faints"

He tries to isolate himself because he finds it humiliating. Will "hide" by just facing away from everyone at a distance. Saitama tries his best to talk him into just laying on his futon for a bit but he refuses stubbornly

Now if you're involved it's different. If you tell him to do something, he'll do it for sure. He knows you probably know what's better for him and he doesn't want your health affected by worrying over him.

Sometimes you gotta be Saitama's "translator" and tell him things Saitama really said. Like the futon thing. The both of you can work something out together alright

After a long shut down he'll be back to normal

He's literally so embarrassed to be any kind of sick around you. Vulnerability doesn't come easy for him in any way

Attempts to tough it out without medicine, and hates the doctor. There's only so much you can bribe him with to take it, too. He just thinks he's better than doing it the easier (logical) way

I wanna HC this fool with lactose intolerance. Partially because it could be likely if his diet growing up, bad as it was, wasn't usually dairy

Also because he's got dumb energy. He would not care and would rather be sick than not eat a good bowl of Mac n Cheese. At least he has a high pain tolerance

He's gonna tell you don't baby him if he's bedridden but yes he does like it go ahead. Just be subtle

That if you can get him to let you help. He won't ask so you gotta play close attention. It can be a pain cause he's avoiding you for the most part

Needs lots of reassurance. He's got an anxiety about being taken advantage of or hurt. It's nothing personal

You just gotta mom him to death for him to be cooperative. It'll be fine

[the-berf]

It was hot as balls. Summer in Chicago was exceptionally brutal that year and the AC in the kitchen of The Beef was, to put it politely, had seen better days. Much better ones. As a result working there was becoming quite the challenge. Smoke breaks were gone in favour of water breaks in the walk-in chiller. It was an unspoken agreement that they took turns in there or, for a super quick cooldown, the walk-in freezer was employed. In for a minute to bask in the shocking cold then out. To actually need something from either walk-ins was a blissful treat.

Carmy had been by the stoves, too warm to even curse. Why he thought becoming a chef then working in a shitty little place like The Beef was beyond him. Everything was grating on his nerves and going outside for a much needed smoke was unthinkable. As much as he craved it, facing yet more heat was beyond sanity. So he'd not smoked since early morning, was jittery as fuck, too warm and in desperate need of a break.

"Get in the walk-in," Richie snapped at him.

"No time."

"Then the freezer. Just looking at you gives me heat stroke."

Syd was already next to him, ushering him out of the way for a much needed break. Annoyed, Carmy march away because if he stayed, if he argued, he might just punch someone. Wrenching the door of the freezer open harshly, he stalked in, relishing the slamming of the door. For a moment it didn't feel too cold, even as his breath curled in the air. Fuck but did the change in temperature feel good. Running hands through his hair, Carmy let out a groan, eyes shut. Maybe he had needed the cold break. Should probably get a drink too. He truly was the master of "do as I say, not as I do".

A shiver running down his spine, Carmy walked back to the door and tried to open it. Nothing happened. Giving it a shoulder shove, all Carmy got was the promise of a new bruise. Thumping on the door, he yelled.

"Yo! Cut it out!" There was no answer. "Yo! Cousin! This isn't funny!"

After a moment he slapped his hand repeatedly against the door, hissing at the chill that was seeping through him. Fuck the freezer and regulation temperatures.

"Cousin?" Richie's voice was filled with annoyance. "You trip and twist your knickers or something?"

The handle rattled but the door didn't budge.

"Carm, stop being an idiot. Come on out!"

"I'm trying, jag-off!"

"Then try harder!"

Carmy pushed while Richie pulled to no avail. The door wouldn't move. On the outside a commotion was growing as more and more of the staff tried to help open the door. Nothing seemed to be working and, as the minutes ticked by, Carmy paced the short few steps back and forth, teeth chattering. Goosebumps decorated his bare arms, the sweat that had been making his t-shirt cling to his back was starting to feel a little crispy.

"Hurry the fuck up! I'm going to literally freeze my balls off in here!"

"Not like you were using them anyway."

Richie's answer was a little muffled but it got Carmy seeing red. The anger at least gave him the illusion of warmth as he spun and snarled at the door. "Fuck you! You wanted me in here! Is this what you did to Mikey too? So desperate to take this shithole from us. Well guess what, dickhead! This will always be a Berzatto family restaurant and you will never be a Berzatto."

For a moment there was silence. An absolute stillness and even Carmy held his breath.

"I'm going to get you out," Richie said firmly. "Just so I can look you in the eye like a man before punching your lights out."

"Oi! Cut it out!" That was Syd, the voice of reason. She only served to irritate Carmy further.

"Are you in on this?" Because she had been there to take over and help get Carmy in the freezer. "What did he offer? 30% of the restaurant once I'm out of the way and Nat's refused to take over? Or 40% if you suck his cock once a week?"

"Jeff!" The outrage in Tina's voice brought him up short. "We're trying to help. You're not making it easy."

Which made Carmy question something. "Who the fuck is running the restaurant? Get back to work. You want to get paid? Get to fucking work! All of you!"

It was so cold. Carmy sank down to sit on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, arms hugging around them. His chin slotted perfectly into the divot between his knees. Shivering, he tried to ignore the noises from outside. It was pointless, they should prioritise the restaurant, make sure orders were being taken and filler. Not like he was going anywhere. Eyes closing, Carmy let his mind drift to anything other than the cold.

"Carmy? You okay?" Syd sounded closer and, against better judgement, Carmy shuffled closer to the door, leaning against it. His arm near enough burned from touching the metal of it.

"Yeah, hust fuckig fine. How're the orders?" Maybe his sense of time was fucked but he had only sat down a few moments earlier.

On the other side of the door was some muttering. He could just about catch snippets like "slurring?" and "keep him talking" and "hurry the fuck up".

"Uh, yeah, orders are good," Syd replied. "Got one in that I wanted to run past you. Guy wants gravy as dip. But wants it fresh and to the family recipe standard. Can you run me through the gravy recipe?"

"The fuck?" Carmy almost laughed, it even stopped his teeth chattering. "You hit your head and suddenly can't make gravy?"

"He's insisting. Wants the Berzatto special." From where she stood by the door, Syd shot Richie a glare as he tried to hold back laughter.

"Berzatto special baby gravy." The words burst from Richie right as Fak rounded the corner, ready to pull the freezer door apart.

Too tired, Carmy couldn't bring himself to rage at the stupid joke. He was too tired to do anything really. A nap sounded good. Really good actually.

"How long he been in there?" Fak asked the others.

"Too long," Richie said at the same time as Syd replied, "Coming up to half an hour. Regulations don't let you stay longer than fifteen and even that's with appropriate clothing."

Nodding, Fak discarded some of his tools. "So time is of the essence." More loudly he added, "I'll get you out in no time, Carm."

There was no response from inside the freezer. Alarmed looks were exchanged.

"Just get him the fuck out."

Tina had taken initiative and closed the restaurant. Nobody could focus as the wrong kind of tension mounted in the kitchen. They all crowded as close as sensible, just about leaving room for Fak to work. The entire door was coming off, hinges and all. Helplessness engulfed them. There was a sugar laden tea cooling on the side and someone had grabbed a throw from the office, along with a cushion.

Finally, the last bolt was out and, between Fak and Marcus, they managed to wrench it out of place, the broken lock slipping out of its socket with ease. As they moved, Carmy near enough spilled out of the freezer, flopped on the floor without the door to hold him up anymore.

Richie's excalamtion of "fuck" was coupled with him rushing to Carmy's side, rolling him onto his back. More pale than normal, breaths slow and shallow, Carmy was unresponsive.

"We need to move him, get him warm." Syd was on Carmy's other side hand hovering over him but not quite daring to touch.

"No shit, Sherlock." With that Richie scooped Carmy up, trying not to think about how cold he felt to touch. Thinking about heat, Riche set him down in front of the ovens, grateful that Syd was hot on his heel with the throw and cushion.

What followed were some agonisingly slow minutes. Nobody dared even move really, worried it might somehow set Carmy's warming progress back. At least the pallid colour of his cheeks was changing. Nowhere near rosy and healthy but better. Not to mention that the only time anyone had ever seen Carmy truly flushed was when he was red in the face from yelling in rage.

"Carmen?" Richie nudged him, desperate for a response but he got nothing. "Come on, cousin. Don't be a dickbag."

Reaching out, he patted Carmy's cheek, intent on annoying him into consciousness. To an extent it worked as Carmy left out a soft moan and tried to turn his head away. At least it was progress.

"Thank fuck." Ever the man of simple words, Richie sat back on his heels with a laugh. "Didn't think his insurance would have covered this."

Ever so slowly, Carmy returned to the land of the living. It started with a disgruntled little huff which turned into discomfort and pain as he turned to curl in on himself. At least he was shivering again by the time his eyes opened, blinking blearily at first.

"F-f-f-fuck."

"Here, drink." Syd held the warm tea while Richie helped sit Carmy up. Some of it spilled as Carmy got his hands around the mug, shivers making him shake violently. Before he could spiral, Syd was there with a steadying hand. "It's okay, just drink what you can. We'll take care of everything else."

A little cowed, Carmy let his hands be guided so he could drink the sugar laden tea, not ever recognising that the solid wall of heat behind him was actually Richie. At least, not until Syd was taking the mostly empty mug and a hand brushed fondly through his hair.

"Trust you to be the contrary fuck to get hypothermia in the middle of summer."

Too tired to care, Carmy shrugged and leaned back, content to let the others hold down the fort for the time being. Before he closed his eyes to relish the warmth he was surrounded by, Carmy managed a croaky "sorry" which was waved off. Whether he was apologising for getting stuck, for the shit he said or for just generally existing was hard to tell. But, in a way, it didn't matter because they were all family and forgiving each other was core to that.

[trashbag-baby666]

can i request a fluffy hunter x gender neutral reader where he goes to them for comfort and sort of just shows up at their house unannounced bc he needs a hug ☺️🫶

Thank you sm for the request! I literally loved this so much! So here you go!!! 💗💗💗💗

You came home frustrated, you’d gotten a bad grade on a test and things just weren’t going your way. Hunter wasn’t really paying any attention to you because he was caught up with battle of the bands. When you would come over it would just be him working on guitar riffs from Machinery of Torment or listening to him and Kevin practice.

You were glad that you didn’t have any classes after sixth hour. So without any notice to anyone you just left school.

You sat down on your couch and grabbed the TV remote, turning the TV on. Your phone started to vibrate inconsistently. You sighed and pulled out your phone seeing a series of texts from Hunter.

Hunter<3:

Can we meet in the library during my eighth hour commons?

Hunter<3:

Do you wanna go get coffee tonight?

Hunter<3:

Did I do something wrong?

You:

Sorry I went home after my painting class. I was frustrated.

Hunter<3:

Oh, I think me and Kevin are gonna chill tonight but you’re more than welcome to come over any time. Love you!

You:

Love you too.

You set your phone down and turned on something random you’d seen a hundred times before. You laid down on the couch and scrolled through instagram. Mindlessly liking posts you smiled as you saw some tour announcements for some bands you and Hunter both liked. You screen shotted them to show Hunter later and to talk to your parents about it.

You switched over to tik tok. What better way to pass time than to scroll on tik tok. The TV becoming background noise at this point.

You jumped slightly as there was knocks on your door and repeated ringing of the doorbell. You looked at the time in the corner of your phone and seen over a half an hour had passed.

“Who the fuck is here?” You wondered out loud. School wasn’t out yet and you’d be damned if Hunter skipped class. You opened the door and it was none other than your dark, long haired boyfriend.

Except something was different, Hunter's eyes were bloodshot red, he repeatedly was sniffling, and his hair was uneven and looked like a botched haircut on one side.

The rain ran down his body soaking him, “Hunter…hun what happened?” You pulled him into your house.

“Tell me what happened love?” You sat him down next to you on the couch. You turned off the TV and held both of his hands giving him your full attention.

“Skip Hoffman happened,” Hunter sniffled again. He let out another sobbed and you wrapped your arms around him tight. You felt like you were holding him together, his arms were bare and felt cold from the rainy day.

“That fucking pig,” you scoffed from where you were pulled into him, “I’m gonna kill him actually!”

“He got suspended, two weeks. But they’re totally gonna ass rape me when they get back for getting them suspended.” Hunter sighed, choking on sobs and sniffles.

“Well it’s not your fault he got what he deserved,” You sighed and pulled out of the hug. You gently wiped your thumbs under his eyes, wiping his tears away. You grabbed the kleenex box off of the end table and put it in his hands.

“I’m gonna go get you some water and what do you wanna do about your hair?”

“Can you cut it?” Hunter sighed, pulling out a tissue from the box.

“Okay, I’ll do it just tell me what you want honey bee,” You nodded and walked into your kitchen filling a cup with cold water. You brought it back to him and handed him the cup. He took a few drinks and set it on the coffee table. “Can you shave this side of my head?” Hunter ran his hands through his hair.

“Yeah, yeah totally like Dave Navarro's one haircut?” You asked him and ran your hand through his hair.

“Yeah,” Hunter giggled and looked down with a small smile spreading onto his face.

“Okay come on up to my bathroom and I’ll do your hair,” You smiled taking his hand and leading him up the stairs to your bathroom.

You knew what you were doing; you'd always had an interest in cutting hair. So Hunter usually trusted you to cut his hair.

“Okay sit,” You pointed to the edge of the bathtub. You smiled and gently tugged his shirt off.

“Oh thank you,” Hunter smiled and looked up at you as you got out your clippers.

You chuckled and draped a towel around his shoulders and kissed his forehead.

You turned on the clippers and you saw Hunter cringe a little but you began shaving off the uneven cut black hair.

Hunter watched as you concentrated on doing his hair. The way that you gently bit on your lip and narrowed your eyes a bit.

“What?” You giggled realizing he was staring at you.

“It’s cute when you’re concentrating.” Hunter had a proud smirk on his face. You finished his hair and blew dry the extra hair off of him.

“Okay take a look hun,” you took the towel off of him and shook it off in the bathtub.

“Love, this looks amazing!” Hunter ran his hand over it then pushed his hair back a bit.

“You look totally badass,” You hugged him again leaning against his bare chest.

“Thank you, thank you for everything love. I’m really sorry that I’ve been really distracted with the battle of the bands. I'm going to try and do better.” Hunter rested his chin on the top of your head and squeezed you tighter in a hug.

“That means a lot to me,” You leaned into him, “But I also want to see you do amazing and kick everyone's asses.” You giggled.

“And we’re totally going to.” Hunter pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let the hug continue.

[kisskissbanggang]

Reckless pt. 2

[Chan x product model!Reader - 3k Words, ~10min. Read, Idol!au, Suggestive/Mentions of Smut, Questionable Power Dynamics, Casual Dating, FWB, Misguided Bets]

“... You must really be tired. Did you hear me?”

Chan’s hand brushed your shoulder in an exhausted inkling of concern. You glanced at him with a tepid nod. The two of you were seated at a small table in the kitchen of the dorm. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for you to become less of a strange presence. Chan was half-risen out of his chair, only waiting for you to respond.

“Sorry, what did you say?” you eventually asked.

“I asked if you wanted some coffee?”

You half-heartedly nodded again. “Oh, yeah, sure. Yeah, I guess I'm really tired.”

No, you weren't. But you didn't want to tell Chan that he was currently interrupting you gorging yourself on the sight of Changbin fixing himself an iced Americano across the kitchen.

“You like cream and sugar, right?” Chan asked you, seemingly from a million miles away.

Holy shit, you marveled, how is Changbin so toned?

You absently wrapped a hand around the coffee Chan set next to you, along with his own mug.

“I was thinking of a polo today,” Chan prattled on, “but I don't know if I want to do long sleeve or short sleeve.”

Seriously, how much can he lift?

You tasted the coffee and almost choked. Too sweet, but you never specified in the first place.

Like, could he lift me?

“I think the long sleeves are comfier but the short sleeves are – Hey! That’s my coffee.”

“Oh, sorry,” you sighed.

Changbin turned to look at you over his shoulder. “Would you like an Americano while I'm still over here, noona?”

Ugh and he’s so nice.

“Oh, Changbin,” you gushed, “that’s so kind. I’d love one.”

Surely, Chan understood. You checked the timer on your phone and got up yourself, striding across the kitchen to the refrigerator. The spoon you’d placed in the freezer almost half an hour ago was finally cold all the way through. You’d even dipped it in water to hopefully get it good and chilled. Changbin raised an eyebrow at you, silently letting you know your drink was ready and you took a sip. The reaction was foolish, truly, but you nearly crumbled on the spot.

“Awh, Binnie,” you cooed, “it’s perfect. You’re so nice to me.”

Changbin’s lips spread into a cryptic half-smile before you hooked a finger into Chan’s shirt and dragged him back into his room.

This was maybe the third? Fourth? This was most likely the third time you’d been to Chan’s. It was typically the same routine every time, because his room was conveniently empty each time you arrived... until last night. The door wasn’t locked – none of the doors had locks – but it was clearly occupied. So you improvised. It took shamefully little to convince Chan that you only wanted to snuggle on the couch at 2AM, but he also wasn't surprised when it turned into more, which was when your normal routine resumed. And he was disgustingly good at this song and dance. He would undress you, then himself, and then manage to surprise you every single time while you fucked on the floor because it was far quieter that way. He was infuriatingly good in bed (floor), even though he’d never let you under the blankets to cuddle (platonically) until after you both had finished.

But this time you surprised him. It was one love bite, one little hickey, right on his ribs where no stylist would even worry, but he nonetheless freaked out when he finally came to his senses afterwards.

“Quit squirming,” you quietly admonished Chan, back in the present, who was now desperately clutching your arm to keep from wiggling while you pressed the cold spoon against his skin.

“It’s a literal frozen piece of metal on a ticklish spot,” he laughed despite his whining.

You were usually long gone by now, maybe enjoying a pastry on your way back to your apartment, but the poor guy was clearly bothered by the hickey, so it only made sense that you offer to help. Honestly, you even felt bad. It was a heat-of-the-moment type deal, but more consent never hurt a mood. Then again, you still couldn’t help but notice there was never a good reason to get this bent out of shape over a hickey no one would see.

“How’s it looking?” Chan asked.

“Fine,” you shrugged, “but the spoon is already getting back to room temperature.”

“Does it need to be a spoon?” he pondered. “We have ice packs in the freezer, in the door.”

“That’ll do just fine,” you assured him. “Be right back.”

You playfully whacked Chan right on the thigh with the utensil, a peek of his pale skin taunting you from under his comfy shorts, but you didn’t expect him to snatch your hand so he could pinch the sensitive spot on your waist in retaliation. A pitiful squeak escaped you, and you wheeled around, ready to fight him off. Before you could, though, Chan already wrapped his arms around your middle so he could easily toss you onto the bed beside him. He squealed out a curse as you kicked him off, but he settled the moment you sat him back down and kissed his forehead before you jogged back out to the hallway.

Playing with Chan came as easy as fooling around with him, but you reminded yourself that this was clearly a great friendship you had going on and nothing more. Just like you agreed, you did not pay for each other when you met up, and you only swapped texts, mutually deciding it was better than calling. Every once in a while, you might get a photo from Chan. Usually to get your opinion on an outfit, but sometimes he sent you little things that reminded him of you. A nice sweater, a piece of art in a lobby. And even though this would normally terrify you, he even sent you little things that reminded him of his other friends. Silly mascots, movie lines. Not to mention all his group members were incredibly nice to you when you came over, and even offered to meet up outside of your little flings with their noble leader. Honestly, Chan was a good friend to have.

“Ope, excuse me,” came a soft voice from beside you in the hall. You nearly jumped out of your skin. Female voices weren’t common in the dorm. The dorm aunties were usually gone for the night when you arrived, and stayed out of your way regardless. But this wasn’t one of the aunties or a staff member. This was Cute Girl.

Her voice was toned sweeter than you assumed was normal, but goodness she was adorable, even with bedhead.

And even with a small bite mark on her neck, bruising right under her ear.

You couldn’t help but think that if she wanted to be more modest, her fluffy hair wouldn’t still be in a slept-in, messy bun, but sure enough it was easy to catch when she edged past you in the narrow hall on her way to the kitchen. It was like a little pressed poppy, the way it stood out on her delicate skin.

And you almost wondered where she got it, when another voice made you jolt.

“Behind you, noona,” came a groggy, deep voice behind your shoulder. English. Felix.

You watched incredulously as he scooted past you, from the direction of the bathroom and also on his way into the kitchen.

It wasn’t just that his mark was violet, practically resembling the welt you got from an ornery octopus’ suction cups the last time your uncle dragged you on a fishing trip.

It was more so the little hint of a scratch just barely visible past the collar of his worn t-shirt. You spied it as he walked past, on the nape of his neck. The red mark was raised against his freckled skin, and you watched, gobsmacked, as Felix comfortably put his hand on Cute Girl’s lower back to shuffle past her to get to the coffee on the counter.

Now, you had to temper your heightened reaction down. You adored Felix. He was always curiously peeking at the tags on your clothes and bags, always offering you food or asking about your day. He even started messaging you when he came across your product photos in the wild. Felix was so sweet.

But so was Cute Girl. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen her at the dorm. This had to have been the second or third time. There was definitely one time, when you and Chan came in as she was leaving one day, and you remembered that because Chan had been weird for the rest of the night. Like, he was an impregnable fortress for 20 minutes while he checked his messages. Weird.

So that meant this had to be the third time, because you also remembered a distinct moment where Cute Girl was hanging out in the kitchen, sort of like this morning. And, come to think of it, Felix was there, too, taking care of some chores before they went out. She hadn’t spoken to you much, for sure, but she was the kind of quiet that told you that she was only shy, and not as if she were perceiving you as competition. Ergo, you didn’t know her name. Ergo, Cute Girl.

But this wasn’t any of your business. Even though now you knew why you and Chan crashed on the couch last night.

“Noona, did you want anything?” came Felix from the kitchen. He was poking his head into the hallway, and now you realized you were lingering.

“No, dear, thank you,” you quickly replied, pushing your feet to finally enter the kitchen. Cute Girl eyed you up and down as you opened the freezer and plucked out an ice pack. Her smudged eyeliner gave her doe eyes.

It’s none of your business.

But you couldn’t not say anything.

You grinned at Cute Girl. Genuinely. “Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi,” she answered brightly.

You raised a hand, silently imploring her for consent to make physical contact, and she perked up before she leaned in an inch to confirm. A few tendrils of her hair hung loose from her bun, and you gently brushed them with your fingers real quick so they framed her face more. “Your hair is so gorgeous,” you gushed. “What conditioner do you use?”

Cute Girl’s eyes lit up, and her hand automatically reached up to pull the elastic out of her hair so it cascaded around her shoulders. The love bite was covered instantly. “Nothing special, honestly,” she admitted, “I just try to take care of it.”

“I love it,” you cooed. And you weren’t lying.

“Doing anything fun today, noona?” Felix asked from behind her.

“All I have planned is relaxing once I get home,” you chuckled.

“That sounds amazing,” sighed Felix, and you almost believed he was jealous for a moment.

You gracefully exited the kitchen before returning to Chan’s room. “Noona, noona, noona,” you muttered while you closed the door behind you. He looked up from his phone, an eyebrow raised. “Everyone calls me noona,” you explained with a chuckle, “except for you.”

“That’s because you’re my eomma,” Chan deadpanned.

He shrieked when you tackled him to shove the ice pack under his shirt. You both knew this wasn’t the case. In fact, you were both firmly in jagi or babe territory now that you were more comfortable with each other in your arrangement. But you couldn’t deny it was easy to nag or tease him, so maybe the dig was accurate.

You leaned down, picking up your bag that you’d thrown in here earlier in the morning, and plucked out the necklace you’d taken off after the second bar last night. One attempt, and then two, let you know that your fingers were just not going to get this done and you marveled that you got the stupidly precious thing on to begin with. You frustratedly thrust the bauble at Chan before sitting beside him at the foot of the bed.

Chan was almost always surprisingly gentle with you. It was like he was assuming he’d be too rough and making adjustments accordingly. Now, he delicately brushed your hair forward over your shoulder and shifted you around so your back was to him. He noticeably paused for a moment after he fiddled with the necklace clasp to secure it.

“You have a tattoo?”

You nodded. “Sure,” you answered. “I got it done a few years ago.”

His thumb gingerly caressed the little bird at the top of your neck, where it could easily be hidden. You had a few of these, actually, but it’s not like he ever saw you in proper lighting. Chan’s gesture was shockingly tender, and if you didn’t know any better, you could almost mistake it for affection.

“What does it mean?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “I just like it.”

Chan paused again, but now your lip curled in a devious smile.

“What’s the matter?” you teased him.

“It can’t not mean anything,” he stubbornly refuted.

“Sure it does,” you doubled down.

“Ugh,” he scoffed, “you’re just trying to annoy me. Noona.”

You wrinkled your nose before turning around to pinch him. “Quit that. I don’t even know who started it. I just suddenly adopted you all like little fairytale dwarves. You’re Dopey, clearly.”

“Changbin was first,” Chan laughed. “Who can blame him? You’re as old as his sister.”

Chan howled as you snatched the ice pack on his ribs to instead press it to his cheek. He leaned back in retreat, but you followed until you were pretty much sitting on him.

“Sister?” you badgered him. “What sister?”

“... His older sister? She’s a few years older than him, it’s not like she’s ancient,” Chan answered incredulously. “What’s wrong with noona anyway? They like you. They like having you around.”

“Ugh,” you sighed, plucking the ice pack off his face to put back on his abdomen. “I guess I’m starting to feel old. I see all these younger models come to casting calls and I get turned away more and more.”

“Nonsense,” Chan decided. “I like it.”

“I know you do,” you rebuked. “Hyung. You have a little army just in this dorm to fuel your leadership kink.”

Chan rolled his eyes. “It’s not a kink; somebody has to lead.” Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. This was very Chan, you’d come to learn. He was humble to a fault, but he took great pride in his humility. You sort of loved it, even if it drove you crazy.

You folded your arms. “You do like it, though.”

“Sometimes I do,” Chan admitted in an attempt to remain aloof.

“What about oppa?” you curiously asked as you peeked under his shirt, checking on how his mark was clearing up. “Then again,” you absently wondered aloud, since his mind was apparently elsewhere, “it’s not like you have many girls around. There’s other idols, I guess. Maybe fans? Yeah, fans. I guess all your younger fans call you oppa. But – god, I feel like I’m telling on myself, but I think I’d get weirded out by a stranger calling me noona. I know they’d know me, but I wouldn’t know them, you know? Like is it weird when girls just call you oppa out of nowhere? Hmm? Oppa?” Chan wasn’t engaging with your teasing ramble, apparently, but he did catch your attention.

By twitching under you. Between your legs.

“Gross!” you yelled. Chan was turning hot pink in realization.

“It’s not like that!” he defended, his hands scrambling to cover your mouth. “I was– it’s not like– my mind wandered!”

“Your mind wandered where?!” you reeled.

“I’m sorry, did I leave my bag– OH– Oh god, I’m so sorry–!”

You both swung around to see what the hell just happened. Chan sat up under you in time for you to both catch Cute Girl sheepishly bounding down the hallway.

When you turned back around, Chan was beet red by now. Both your gazes widened, you in realization and Chan in getting caught, before you reflexively flicked him in the forehead. Chan clapped a hand to his face with a yelp.

“What the fuck?!”

“Who is that girl?” you interrogated.

“Who?!”

“CHRISTOPHER!”

“Nobody!” squeaked Chan. “She’s seeing Felix!”

“That’s gross!” you groaned.

“What is?!”

“You act so weird around her now that I think about it,” you continued scolding him. “You better tell me what’s going on right now, right this second.”

Chan wriggled out from under you, hands up in innocence. “There is nothing to tell you.”

Your eyes darted south. His shorts said otherwise. Chan wrinkled his nose in offense and turned away from your condemning gaze. “Christopher,” you chided again.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Even if there was anything going on, it’s not gross. But there’s nothing going on. What about you and Changbin?”

“Changbin?!” you roared out a laugh. “He won’t even look at me for more than two seconds!”

“Well you won’t make eye contact with him for more than two seconds, so I guess you’re even. But you sure as hell stare at him a whole bunch otherwise.”

“You think that makes me guilty?!” you giggled.

“Look,” Chan retorted over his shoulder, “I’ll have you know I’ve seen him act like that only a few times. But I’m guessing you’re too chicken to actually try anything.”

“Chicken?!” you parroted back. “What is this, primary school?”

“All I’m saying,” Chan nonchalantly shrugged, “is that I want to see you happy. But I’m also betting you won’t make a move, let alone get him to crack.”

“Nonsense,” you argued, “I’m irresistible. What if I do try?”

“Then maybe I’ll tell you whatever not-gross thing you want to know.”

“That’s insane.”

Chan grinned back at you. “If it’s so insane, then don’t take me up on it.”

You felt your jaw harden in unbridled, stubborn spite as you stalked around to face Chan. He set his hands on his hips and you did the same.

“Fine. I’m going to try to bag Changbin. Now spill.”

[to be continued. 🐝]

[thedanoriddler]

🟢 Edward Nashton x Sick!Reader Headcanons ⚫️

Hey all, ya girl here has had fucking tonsillitis (or some other throat infection, my doctor just said my throat was SUPER infected) since Tuesday, and also too much time on her hands 😷🤧 figured I might as well put my sickness to good use for everyone!

Warnings: As title implies, being unwell: sickness mentioned is a flu/cold/throat/chest kind of illness, not p*ke. It’s literally just me using my illness and writing Eddie taking care of me/a reader who’s as ill as I’ve been. Literally is just soft fluffy comfort shit.

It starts as a sore throat and sniffle, you think it’s probably just a cold on its way, but then it actually just gets worse and worse

The second you so much as sniffle one morning, Eddie is right by your side because he’s hyper tuned to every little movement and sound you make - you can’t hide anything from him

“I’m fine, Eddie, really, it’s nothing-” “Nooo, no, (Y/N), you’re sick! Lie down, just lie down and I’ll be right back with some tea!”

You literally don’t have a choice, that man insists that you rest and he doesn’t take no for an answer

“It’s probably just a cold,” you mumble as you start to fall asleep, Eddie covering you with a blanket. “I’ll feel better after a nap…”

Yeah, no, you really don’t

You wake up after napping and can’t swallow anything without wanting to gag or cry - it just hurts too much. Eddie worries so much over you as he tries to get you to drink some more tea, but it doesn’t help. You can’t even swallow painkillers because your throat is so swollen

After some debate, you let Eddie look down your throat with a torch because he insists - his eyes widen and he tells you that there’s red and white patches, that you should probably go to a doctor. You’re stubborn though and tell him you’ll feel better after more sleep.

That night is absolutely miserable for both of you because you can’t sleep for more than a few hours at a time without waking up in pain, and nothing Eddie does seems to help: you’re just in so much pain and you’re running a fever, alternating between having the sweats and having chills

Poor Eddie just wants to help so bad but he feels kind of useless because all he can do is let you curl up with him as you whimper and cry out in pain

You try showering or bathing in the morning but you’re burning up and can barely move, he has to help you get to the bathroom and help you get cleaned up because you can’t stand straight

When Eddie tries to make you some food, you turn all of it down - you can’t even swallow water or ice cream without it burning, without it feeling like knives in your throat, and you have literally zero appetite now anyway

Getting a doctor’s appointment quickly in Gotham is pretty much impossible, the healthcare is severely underfunded in most parts of the city and you’d be more likely to shit gold than find a decent doctor on short notice - but Eddie has his ways; somehow he manages to get a doctor to see you that evening, and he listens to everything the doctor says so he can help you get better

You get prescribed a course of antibiotics (penicillin) and Eddie is so diligent about making sure you start them immediately: he writes down the times you take a dose, makes sure you have all your doses, spaces them out so that you have a chance to eat between doses but can still take the pills on an empty stomach like you’re supposed to… he just wants to help you so bad, all he wants is for you to get better ASAP because he hates seeing you sick and in pain

He knows he could catch whatever you’ve got but he doesn’t care: when you ask him to cuddle you, he’s all too eager. You spend most of the week as you recover with his arms around you, his head on your chin, your head on his chest, his voice low and vibrating in your ear as he mumbles and tells you his favourite riddles

It doesn’t matter that your brain is too fogged and tired to understand riddles right now, hearing him recite them is enough to bring a small smile to your face because it’s just so… him.

You wear one of Eddie’s hoodies or jumpers when you’re feeling shivery and feel so comforted by it because it smells like him 💚

The two of you put some boring daytime television shit on and fall asleep to it together, curled up on the couch with a blanket 🥹

He helps you get to bed early after a dose of antibiotics, pulling the duvet over you as you doze off and pressing a kiss against your hot forehead; he stays by your side all night, barely sleeping himself, watching you and brushing your hair from your face as you sleep

The relief on his face when, the day after you start taking the medicine, you tell him your appetite is back and you’re feeling a little bit better is honestly so goddamn pure, his face lights up and he’s just so damn happy that you’re already doing better

Eddie does his research on what foods and drinks are good for sore throats and fevers because of course he does, and he is all too happy to cook and make things for you to eat

He also goes out and buys a shit ton of sore throat sweets in your favourite flavour, like boxes and boxes of them, it’s really so endearing

Let’s be honest, being sick really fucking sucks - but it sucks a little less when you’ve got Eddie there with you, giving you cuddles and looking after you 💚

[papayasnz]

I’m having severe and continuously horny thoughts ab F/ukuchi and I’m in pain over the fact it makes me feel things at the most random times y’all.

Like currently? Thinking about the fact he probably has to travel a decent amount overseas (pretty much canon because of the fact he travels to deal with some crisis or WHATEVER). And then coming home with the most miserable cold. All the fighting, the insane amount of strangers wanting to touch him and talk to him, the jet lag, the rapid change in humidity… he just crashes.

Feels so miserable on the ride back, but it’s only the beginning. Sniffly constantly, but tries to not blow his nose too much because he KNOWS it’s loud when he does and it’s literally a plane. And bringing more attention to himself right now is… not what he wants. Then the coughing starts, the scratchy thickness forms in the back of his throat that just won’t go away regardless of how much water he drinks or how much he clears his throat.

Pressure building in his sinuses as a headache forms from the altitude… and the sniffling gets more frequent and more needy. He can’t help but snap forward with a sneeze that’s way more wet then it usually is, slightly misting the air in front of him. He mumbles a thick and raspy “‘scuse me…” to the person next to him, hoping it’ll stop there.

But no. No. It happens again, and again. Despite not normally bothering to cover, he has the decency to do so when he knows he’s coming down with something. And being around so many people too… wet, harsh and loud sneeze after sneeze getting crushed into his wrist. Watery eyes filled with gratefulness as he thanks the flight attendant when she sweetly offers him some tissues after the 20th sneeze into his already soaked sleeve.

Feeling his face heat up from the amount of stares he’s getting, or people muttering about how they “hope I won’t catch whatever he’s got… ew.”

Finally coming home and just immediately flopping down on the closest soft surface. Bedroom? Nah, couch works fine. Pulling the one soft blanket he’s got on the couch over him to quell the chills running through his body. The bed would be more comfortable but… he can’t bring himself to get back up again.

[slayonehundredninetytwo]

here’s a quick irl story while we wait for the fic

Okay so, one day before a competition my man who doesn’t know he’s my man if you know what i mean gets there after me. which is already abnormal because he’s usually one of the first to arrive. I look up at him, his hair soaking wet like he's fresh out of the shower. because he was. apparently, he had gone through the whole previous day feeling fine, but then when he got home around 4 o clock, he started feeling really shitty and decided to take a nap. He didn't wake up until his alarm went of the next morning sleeping through dinner and his usual shower time.

So he woke up and hurriedly showered before hauling himself to campus for to leave for the competition, with no time for breakfast. worst part is, he was still feeling shitty as the night before. just looking at him you could tell he was unwell. I'm usually rather shy to start up a convo w him, but im 100% a worrier by nature, and seeing his much paler than normal skin (even his freckles were lighter), rosy cheeks, and baggy eyes, i had to check on him. Which is how i knew the lore behind his condition.

We went outside where it was freezing cold and 6 in the morning, before practicing for a bit. It was clearly hell for him. I couldn’t imagine being out there in the cold with a fever like the one he seemed to be experiencing. After practice we headed inside to get in uniform.

As we were all getting ready, i was watching him from afar in the least creepy way possible like i usually do, but he just wasn’t himself. He’s a leader in his section, so usually he’s up and about helping out and being leader-y i guess, but today he sat criss cross apple sauce on the floor, too weak to stand. I just felt awful for him, we had a long day ahead of us, but i knew he wouldn’t miss it regardless of how he felt. 

On our way to head to the actual competition, I caught up to him.

“Do you need a hair tie?” I offered him the extra hair tie i had brought on my wrist specifically for him. We have to pull back our hair, and his is pretty long for a guy’s, but he’s always too shy to ask for one, and we were literally about to leave.

“Oh yeah. Thanks. I forgot. I was gonna come over and ask but I just felt so weak and my head hurts like hell.”

“No problem.” His commentary on how he’s feeling only made me more worried for him.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really.”

I made a sympathetic face.

“At least make sure you’re drinking lots of water.” (I am very much that person who carries around her water jug everywhere, hydrate or dydrate, water is always the solution)

He gave a head nod, as we walked outside. I gave him one last parting note before we split ways. 

“Just don’t die, okay?”

He chuckled at this, “Okay.”

And we split to get on our separate buses.

-

After the competition, we had some chill time, and him and i just so happened to end up sitting next to each other.

“Well, are you feeling any better now?”

“Yeah I am. I didn’t die.”

-

guys please don’t think i’m a creep 😭

🫶