#also my thermal blanket

[luveline]

hiyaa girlyy!! so i have a fic request and it's totally fine if you don't want to write / don't feel comfortable reading or doing it: and also, i'm not sure if someone thought of this yet, but how about spencer just being friends with a stripper. like their are murders ongoing abt strippers and spencer sees reader at one of the crime scènes and everybody's shocked since their sooo sweet and comfortable together? (and bonus point if she wears his jacket or something since it's cold)

thank you for your request! if you have more requests for this pairing please send them my way!

"I tried to call you!" 

Hotch looks up from his phone at the shout. He'd been texting Jessica one handed in an attempt to tell her and Jack that he won't be home tonight, and he isn't usually easily startled, but he isn't expecting you to talk to him. Or call him. 

He blinks back his fatigue —you're obviously not talking to him. You're almost nondescript in your hoodie, but Hotch isn't confident you're wearing any pants, or underwear. It was a rush job to bring everyone out from the club, and you and the rest of the dancers stand on the sidewalk in various states of undress. 

"Can we get some jackets, please?" Hotch asks, turning back to the beat cops standing by. "Thermal blankets? Anything?" 

When he turns back, Spencer's not where he was. Hotch casts his gaze back to you near the club doors, your hair messed up from the scuffle but your face intricate and untouched, just as pretty as the rest of your fellow dancers, and doubly so as you throw your arms around Spencer Reid's tall shoulders. 

"I'm so glad you're okay," Spencer says, squeezing you hard, your heels lifting off of the rain-sullied sidewalk. "I told you to stay home!" 

"I can't stay home, Spencer. How would I make money?" 

"I'll pay for the hours you miss, I told you that, too." 

"Baby, you couldn't afford it," you tease lightly, setting back down. Your hand immediately rises to Spencer's cheek, your painted nails scratching delicately at his skin. "I've missed you. Where have you been?" 

"California, then Albuquerque." 

"Killing bad guys?" 

Hotch doesn't consider Spencer a lonely guy, and he doesn't think he'd ever be collected enough to enter a strip club, and yet. There he is, hugging and checking over a stripper with as much care and tenderness as he'd show any member of the team. And judging by your smile, you're enamoured with him. Whether romantically or otherwise is anyone's guess. 

Morgan's, apparently. "Sorry, I'm sorry, does Reid have a girlfriend? Like, a…?" 

"You can say stripper," Emily says, though she's similarly nonplussed. "I mean, there's no way. Right?" 

"They're just friends," JJ says. 

The team turns to her in betrayal. Clearly, JJ knew about this and said nothing, and Hotch has things to do but this is so thoroughly bizarre that he gives himself five minutes of curiosity; he lets the others berate her for answers. 

"Come on, JJ! When did this happen? How did this happen?" Emily asks, her voice dropping to a scandalised whisper. 

In the background, Spencer peels out of his jacket that barely fits around your shoulders. You wear it anyhow, wrapping your arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. "Thanks, Dr. Reid." 

"I really wish you'd stay home when I tell you too." He rubs your arm amicably. 

"Her old boss was a typical heavy-handed sleaze," JJ explains, voice soft with sympathy. "Spence said he used to see her at the grocery store with bruises. She stayed with him for a few days and found a new club… He said she can smile through anything, even a broken wrist." 

Hotch understands. This part of Virginia pretends to be better than it is, and while you seem happy enough now in your profession, he knows it can't be easy. Spencer did for you what he would've done for anyone. You've clearly seen the good in him, treating him with a real and easy affection, adoring through shivers as you look up at him and ask, "Are you eating enough? You look tired." 

"I'm exhausted worrying about you. You're exhausting. Like, where are the sweatpants I got you? You'll get hypothermia." 

"I was trying not to get murdered. You're lucky I grabbed the hoodie." You turn to the team, as though you've known they were watching the entire time. "You wanna introduce me to your friends?" you ask. Hotch detects a hint of insecurity under all your bubbly sweetness. 

Spencer laughs loudly, ushering you forward with a hand on your shoulder. "Don't chicken out this time." 

"Don't embarrass me in front of the special agents!" you whisper. 

"I'm a special agent." 

"No, you're a doctor. He's a special agent." Your gaze narrows in on Hotch. "Hi, you're the boss, huh?" You eye his naked marriage finger briefly, and he knows you're kidding, but he still has to fight to stay expressionless as you continue, "How come handsome guys like you don't ever wanna see me dance?" 

Hotch puts out his hand. "Aaron Hotchner. It's nice to meet you." 

You shake his hand, though you stay as close to Spencer as you can manage without stepping on his shoes. "Right. Too respectful. It's really nice to meet you too, Agent Hotchner. Can you catch the bad guy soon? I'll end up on Spencer's cough again if I don't make rent." 

Morgan opens his mouth and Hotch promptly shuts him down with a raised hand. "We will. You have my word." 

[rueclfer]

Reverse comfort reader taking care of Touya plsplsplsplspls 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I just had the amazing thought of it he's being overly cocky during winter "I don't need a scarf I have a fire quirk!" And the next days he's curled in bed with a fever and sore throat and there's a ton of I told you so's

Not even a fic if u don't feel like it maybe a smau but I think it'd be super funny 😭

🫐 Anon

sick touya supreme bc he can just lay there, be cute n not speak <3

sweat it out // touya todoroki

"What the hell are you wearing?" You exclaim after opening your front door.

"What?" He looks down at his attire. "What happened to hi, hello? A 'thank you for bringing me my package that I stupidly got delivered to your apartment?' Why don't we start there?" He huffs, stepping into your apartment, setting your package down on your kitchen counter.

It had been nothing but near freezing temperatures for the past few weeks- so cold that you had to layer up inside your own apartment to prevent your electric bill from skyrocketing.

"Hi hello, my sweet boyfriend." You roll your eyes. "Do you seriously need me to mommy you right now and scold you for not wearing a fucking jacket out in this weather? Are we not grown adults?" You drops the blanket draped over your shoulders and go over to rub his arms for the thermal friction. "Like you're seriously just wearing this long sleeve? It's freezing if you haven't noticed."

He raises his hand up to your face and snaps a flame into place in between his index and thumb. "You forget I run warm."

"Yeah okay, Mister. I-have-a-fire-quirk. How is that going to help you if it starts raining?"

He pulls you into his chest, letting his body heat transfer into your own, instantly warming you and most importantly for him, shutting you up.

You release a deep exhale in content. "Idiot. You just should stay. For the Winter. Just live here with me for a few months and never leave." You rub your face into his chest, savoring the warmth.

"I think we'd end up killing each other before Spring comes." He chuckles into your hair.

"I'll just chain you to the bed and duct tape your mouth close." You smirk up at him. "Everyone's happy."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, sweetheart." He pulls back, reaching out to tousle your hair. "But I gotta run. Told Shigs I'd be quick."

"Wait! Let me find you a sweater and an umbrella." You frantically look around your living room for any piece of clothing that you had previously stolen from him.

"No need." He bends down and quickly press his lips against yours, letting them linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "I have to go. I checked earlier and it's not going to rain and I'm not cold either. You on the other hand, worry about staying warm."

"It definitely is going to rain, Touya. I can smell it." You huff. "You'll get sick."

"What, is that a new quirk development or something? Weirdo." He lightly pinches your cheeks before slipping his shoes back on. "Also, I have a strong immune system."

"Seriously, let me find you an umbrella at the very least." You rummage around the coat rack for something that could fit him or a spare umbrella.

"Nope, no time. See you tomorrow, yeah?" He calls out.

"I guess." You mutter in defeat as you watch him slip out your door.

"Idiot." You sigh under your breath once the door clicks close.

-

"I'm here!" You call out after stepping into Touya's apartment, using the spare he lent you after locking himself out multiple times.

You kick off your shoes and shed off some layers, draping your jacket, and scarf over his couch before making your way to his bedroom.

"Knock knock." You say as you gently crack the door open, revealing near pitch darkness with sliver of natural light peeking in from the blinds.

You make your way over to the dark lump of mass of blankets on the bed, kicking aside used tissue paper that were thrown onto the ground before kneeling down next to the bed.

"Hello, my sweet stupid boy." You coo, slowly stroking the tuft of dark hair peeking out from the comforter.

"Don't be mean to me." The nasally voice muffled from under the covers. "Princess treatment today, got it?"

Touya finally pokes his head out from under the covers. It may have been dark, but you could still make out his puffy bloodshot eyes, dry cracked lips and flushed cheeks.

"I'll say it this one time then and then I'll give you the best princess treatment, okay?" You lean in close, letting your lips lightly graze the shell of his ear. "I fucking told you so." You whisper.

He groans, retreating back under the covers.

"Did you hear me? Okay maybe one more time." You giggle, trying to rip the covers off from over his head. "I told you so. It rained and it rained hard. Not ideal for that fire quirk of yours, huh? I fucking told you so."

"Fuck off." He groans once more. "One more time and I'm kicking your ass out."

"As if." You successfully tug the covers down to his chin, placing the back of your hand on his forehead. "You don't even have to energy to, you poor thing."

"Am I gonna make it?" He gazes up at you with his tired bloodshot eyes.

"Looks like you got a fever." You push away the sweaty stray hairs sticking to his forehead. "But I think you'll survive."

"Damn." He wheeze out. "That's unfortunate."

"It is, but maybe next time you don't listen to me, you'll get lucky and it kills you."

"Let's hope for it, then." He smirks, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Nope. I'm not trying to get sick, Touya." You smile at the neediness in his voice.

You move over to the blinds and slightly twist them open, letting in some of the dim daylight before tossing the haphazardly thrown stray tissues into the trash bin nearby.

"I don't give a fuck. I want a kiss."

"Too bad." You pay no mind to his piercing stare as you wander around his room, tidying the space as well as clearing off an area on his desk to set up the cough syrups and fever reducers that you brought over from your own medicine cabinet.

You come over to him with the stray glass on water sitting on his desk and a couple Tylenols in your palm.

"Sit up." You order, kneeling next to his bed again, holding out your palm.

"Pop a perc then I black out..." Touya mumbles to himself as he sits up, grabbing the pills from your palm and popping them in his mouth, following it with a large gulp of water.

In this moment, you couldn't help but notice how precious he looked with his old flannel pajama pants, dingy stretched out band tee, disheveled hair and tired eyes- a spitting image of his everyday look when you two were teenagers.

"...Fuckin' I'm blowing her back out." He continues, leaning over to press a kiss on your forehead. "Don't look at me like that unless you're trying to help me sweat out this fever."

Your own face heats up. "The fuck were you saying earlier?" You chuckle, brushing off the insinuating comment and setting the empty glass on his nightstand.

"I don't know. Nothing." He coughs, laying back down, pulling the covers up to his chin. "I think the fever dream-hallucination is hitting hard. You should get in and cuddle before the sickness takes over and kills me."

You roll your eyes at the dramatics, nudging him to scoot over before climbing in under the covers with him, which felt like you had just stepped into a furnace.

He groans in content, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you in as close as he could.

"Can't cuddle for too long okay? I'm going to have to leave and make you some food soon." You mutter into his chest, letting your hand run up and down his back.

"No." He whines. "Just stay like this and I'll get better. I promise."

"That's not how that works." You mutter.

"Maybe if you give me a kiss instead? I think that'll 100 percent make me feel better." He pulls away, inching down towards you with puckered lips.

You stuck your hand out against his mouth, pushing it away. "I can't get sick, Touya. I know your ass will not know how to take care of me."

"You love hurting my feelings." He huffs.

"Well? Who put themselves in this situation. I told you, didn't I?"

"Shush." He mumbles, letting himself close his eyes and rest his chin on top of your head. "You didn't tell me shit."

You let out a sigh and let yourself close your eyes for a moment as well, letting your deep inhale and exhales sync in unison. Maybe having this every night wouldn't be too bad. Sure you two would tear each other apart if you had to spend every waking moment together in the same home, but for moments like these, you wouldn't mind it. Your eyes pop open the moment you feel the deep vibrations of his snores again your body, now realizing that you couldn't dare move from this position, risking waking him.

Just an hour. You'll only give yourself an hour.

-

touya tag: @moonchild701

[moonstruckme]

since it's currently flooding where i live, i'm gonna request firefighter!marauders or emt!marauders (whatever works) saving reader who is trapped in her house with the flood being past the chest or something

andddddd reader has asthma, if ur okay with that? (i have terrible asthma and it's so so annoying honestly)

anyway, thank you for writing all of these fics of yours! they are all so amazing!!!

(also, can i be 🌼 anon?)

Hi lovely, thanks for letting me do just James for this! And ofc you can be that anon <3

cw: water rescue, asthma attack, I did do research but I feel like this can’t be accurate so sorry about that

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 589 words

You wait until you hear the boat motors getting close again before you start to crawl out the window. 

“There!” you hear someone shout, and you nearly collapse with the relief of not having to use your air to call out. The boat rumbles closer, and then a fireman with sweetheart eyes and a mop of curly hair crushing out from beneath his helmet is reaching for you with both hands. 

“Hi, there,” he says, grabbing you around the waist and lifting you the rest of the way out. You brace yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders (his very impressive shoulders, you can’t help but notice, which make you remember how your own clothes are stuck damply to your skin from the chest down). Your lungs burn beneath his hands, no better or worse for his touch. “Is it just you in there?” 

“Yeah,” you wheeze. Another firefighter settles one of those aluminum blankets you’re always seeing on TV around your shoulders. “Just me.” 

“Alright,” he says, dark eyes growing troubled as he processes your onerous breaths. “Are you okay?” 

The pain in your chest worsens as you forcibly expel another breath, dragging in a hasty inhale. “My inhaler got ruined.” 

The man’s expression clears just before his brow creases. “You’re having an asthma attack?”

You nod urgently. 

“Alright, okay. Come here, let’s sit down.” 

He pulls you to the back of the boat, guiding you down onto the rubbery floor while someone else passes him a medical bag. Your knees fold towards your chest automatically, some useless instinct to protect the part of you that’s hurting. It does nothing. 

“Have you had asthma attacks before?” he asks you, digging through the bag. Someone starts driving the boat forward. You start to relax when you see him pull out a mask attached to an air compressor, your salvation.

“Yes.” 

“Compared to the other attacks you’ve had before, how badly would you rate this one on a scale of one to ten?” 

“Six.” You answer without hesitating, familiar with this line of questioning. 

“Alright, lovely.” He finishes affixing the hose to the nebulizer, setting the mask to your face and turning on the air compressor. “Just breathe in for me.” 

You do. The relief isn’t instant, but it may as well be. You feel heaps better just knowing the medicine is working. 

You must look visibly calmer, because the man across from you smiles. It looks at home on his face, and the little crinkles which appear at the corners of his eyes suggest he does it often. 

“There we go,” he encourages. You hope your expression conveys the appropriate gratitude as you take the mask from him, holding it to your own face. “I’m James. You were trapped in there for a while, huh?” 

You nod, and he laughs at your weary look. 

“I’m sorry.” James gives your shoulder a friendly squeeze. His face is remarkably cheery for someone who’s been tasked with boating around and rescuing people all day; then again, as a rescuee, you can see the value of a bright spot in the murk left behind by the floor. As soon as you get this mask off, you think you owe him about a million thanks. “I’m sure it’s been really difficult, but we’ve got food here you can have in a bit, and that thermal blanket should help warm you up quickly enough. Just keep breathing into that thing for another few minutes, love, and then we’ll get you all fixed up.”

[imhappierthanever]

Hmhas

a|n: slightly fluffy..but more of an idea I had than anything. I was definitely sleep writing at work also so I hope it’s okay x

She would always do anything to get that perfect shot. No matter what it might mean, the stress it might place on her body. Today was no different as you supported Billie for her Latest crazy idea. She spent nearly 6 hours under water trying to get that perfect shot for her album cover. You were sat at the edge of the pool with her mother Maggie. Both of you worried, but completely confident in Billie. About halfway through, you decided you would leave to get your home ready for when she came home.

When Billie came back up for air and a little break, you cupped her face in your hand sweetly giving her lips a kiss. “You taste like chlorine.” You joked, wrinkling your nose. Missing what she actually tasted like but also not minding.

“Shut up. “ she said pulling you back to her, kissing you before splashing you. “Hey!” You shrieked. “Is this anyway to thank your girlfriend for going to make you dinner and making sure everything’s ready for you at home?” You teased. “You’re leaving?” She pouted giving you a sad face. “I just want to take care of you Bils. You’ve been in there forever. You work yourself to death. I just want you to have something nice to come home to. “ you said sincerely. “Should I pick up dinner from your favourite Thai place? All you’ve had is avocado toast all day.” she smiled at you, agreeing quickly. You knew she couldn’t turn it down.

You hugged Maggie goodbye,happy she was sticking around. And then you kissed Billie once more before heading home, picking up everything you needed along the way.

Once you got there you turned your living room into a cozy fort. You hung sheets and string lights and lit candles. You brought lots of blankets hoping to keep Billie cozy and warm. You brought down some clothes for her too so she could just rest and not have to worry. She had been working extra hard finishing the album and putting the final touches on everything and you never felt so proud of her. You knew it was all going to be worth it once May had finally come.

Pulling you from your thoughts, you heard the front door open, and saw her freshly dyed black, wet hair dripping droplets onto her semi dry skin. You hurried over to her, eager to get her out of her wet clothes and into something dry. “My poor baby.” You cooed. She had on so many layers: black pants beneath a pair of shorts, a button-down shirt over a thermal long-sleeve, a striped tie, arm warmers, a variety of silver rings, and a goth-studded bracelet.

You began peeling it all off between kisses, of course. Showering her with love and affection. (The only sort of showering she wanted at the moment after being in water for so long.) you told her how proud of her you were, and how good she has been doing as you let the material of your jumper slide onto her body.

You watched her admire your work, asking why you did it all for her. When you explained you couldn’t help but admire how damn cute she was. “Wait for me inside, my love. I’m going to go wash all of this for you. Your dinners waiting for you too!” You said urging her to get comfortable and warm. She kissed your cheek as a thank you before settling in.

Once you got back, you smiled seeing her look so content. You crawled in, and snuggled up close to her, wrapping your arms around her as she ate. “I’m so very proud of you my darling. I can’t wait to see the cover.”

You couldn’t wait for all that the year had in store for Billie. And for both of you together. But you could just feel it. This was really going to be her year. And you were going to be right there by her side to support her.

[blues824]

Sebek cuddling besides you in bed cause crocodiles are cold blooded and he’s been out in the snow all day. He wraps himself around you and traps you in his arms. You can’t bring yourself to adjust because he’s shivering and he’s just freezing. Your body heat is just the right amount of heat for him!!! All he needs is to hold you in his arms <333

Screaming, crying, squealing, giggling, kicking my feet as I lay on my stomach. Gender-neutral reader

Sebek Zigvolt

As we all know, Sebek prefers a warmer climate and thus likes to hang about in the Botanical Gardens. However, the Science Club was meeting up, and Sebek didn’t know if he was going to make it all the way to his dorm room at Diasomnia in the snow storm. So, his next best bet was with you at Ramshackle. After all, in this snow, you probably had a fire going.

It was a bit embarrassing for him, but he knew that you were very likely to take him in. Knocking, he noticed that he was shivering, which was definitely not a good sign. You opened the door and were immediately wrapped in a tight and slightly uncomfortable embrace. You felt his trembles and tremors, and he felt as cold as death.

“Sebby, are you alright?” You tried to ask, and you felt him nod his head.

Reaching around to close the door, you waddled back to the living room, the knight still holding you, before you made him let go. You quickly grabbed a blanket and ushered him to your bedroom, helping him strip off his layers until he was in just his thermals. Poor thing was shaking like a leaf, so you quickly got rid of your jacket as well and plopped yourself on top of him when he laid on your bed. Then, you pulled the blanket over the two of you so that it could trap your body heat.

“Thank you… Prefect,” You could hear his teeth chattering, and you just smiled up at him in return.

“Looks like I’m your knight in shining armor, huh?” You joked. Taking his now-ungloved hand into yours, you could feel his skin start to warm up. Then, you felt him wrap himself around you, arms and legs. He had never been this openly affectionate towards you, even in private.

To be fair, you both had only recently started courting each other, so it wasn’t expected to show physical affection just yet. Plus, it wasn’t his love language at all, which you came to understand. However, you also knew that he needed to be warm at all times, so there was that as well.

His breath slowed, meaning he had fallen asleep. Readjusting your position was out of the question, as he was a very light sleeper due to his training. Comfort was at the bottom of your priority list, however, because he looked too cute sleeping anyway. He looked at peace, shivering every once in a while, and a rare moment of quiet fell upon you both.

Then, you fell asleep not long after.

[frannyzooey]

On The Green: 6

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (finally!)

A/N: This came pouring out of me and thank god for the lovely @the-scandalorian who responded to my frantic “can you read today” messages with the support and grace and filthy heart and mind she always does ❤️ thank you my lovely ❤️ enjoy!

—

He deepens the kiss immediately. 

Tongue sliding into your mouth, taking, taking, taking. 

He fists your hair in his grip, tugging on the strands with a low groan of hunger that slips from his throat and you lean into his strength, matching it with your own. Your mouths move against each other’s, your lips molding to his firmer ones, and he kisses you with experience, with greed, with desperation. His hold tightens on your hair and he eats at your mouth, as if he can barely control what he’s been trying to rein in. 

Your touch slides across his whiskered cheek and slips around the nape of his neck, your head tilting to the side with a soft, muffled moan and he tries to sit up, only to abruptly pull away with a hiss of pain. 

The sound breaks the spell, and worry floods your features. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he assures you, breathless. “Just got…carried away.”

His eyes are still on your mouth, even with his hand over the fresh wound concealed under his thermal. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, shifting to put some distance between your bodies. “I never should have – not when you’re like that. I –”

He cuts your rambling, cupping your cheek to keep you in place. 

“Shhh, Birdie. It’s okay.” A smile tugs at the edge of his lips. “I more than complied with your silent request. In fact,” he argues with a raise of his brow, “one could argue that I encouraged it.”

You match his small smile with a bashful one of your own. 

“Though it is true that I might not be in the best form to…reciprocate, the way I want.”

Hesitation flits across your face. “And do you? Want?”

His gaze darkens, a shadow of lust that seems to overtake the deep brown. “Very much so, Birdie. Very much.”

His admission must pool slick and warm in the cradle of your hips, given the way you press them together. He notices. He notices everything when it comes to you. You pluck your bottom lip with with your teeth, and he can see the clear need on your face - the one you’re also trying to rein in. He knows he’s too injured for it right now, but he can’t wait to see what you’ll be like when you let loose. When you act before thinking, when you take what you want. 

He’s weighing the decision of pushing through his pain to kiss you again when you lean back. 

With eyes on you, he watches as you crawl over and pluck your blanket from your cot, before crawling back over to his. He’s making room for you before you even reach him, a space you eagerly fill with your body. It’s a tight fit, and when you stretch out alongside him, your limbs naturally fold against his. He drapes his arm over your side, and you’re careful not to touch his wound. 

He thinks he wouldn’t care if you stuck your finger in it if it meant having you even closer. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, timid and soft. The warmth of your breath skims across his neck, and his eyes flutter shut. 

He hums. “More than.”

Rain starts to pelt the outside of the pod, a steady drum that fills the silence. He thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep when you speak again. 

“That was close today,” you murmur. “Too close.”

He says nothing for once, his hand sliding a soothing path up your spine. He maps the curve of it underneath his palm, tracing your vertebrae with his fingers. For all the nights he’s dreamed about touching you just like this, it feels better than he could have ever imagined. Even if his body is strung tight, wanting so much more. 

Your hand finds his thermal and twists the worn fabric, clutching it. “I thought maybe I was going to…” You stumble on your words, and he waits, listening to the tremble in your voice. “I thought that would be it. That I would be…alone.”

He knows he should say something in comfort, but the words don’t come. Instead, actions do: a weight in his chest struggling to break free, his hands itching with the need to touch your face. His arm tightens  its hold on you. 

“I couldn’t make it if I was alone, Ez. I wouldn’t – I’d never be able to –”

Your breathing starts to hitch, and he frowns as if in pain and cradles the crown of your head, pulling you close. 

“I need you.” Your words catch on a sob. 

It hurts, the sound. It rips him apart, fracturing his hard exterior, exposing the soft core. Soft, just for you. Only for you. 

You cry and your little body shakes with it, tears wetting the collar of his thermals, the delicate wings of your shoulder blades trembling. The high of adrenaline must be crashing within you, and he presses you tighter against him, petting your hair. 

“It’s okay, Birdie,” he soothes. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

–

After that, you fall into a deep sleep. 

Your body is boneless next to his, melting against him even more. The first time since he’s met you that he can’t sense any tension in your muscles, he takes the opportunity to close his eyes and revel in the feeling. 

It’s been so long since he’s touched anyone – even longer since he’s touched anyone like this. Your small hand has slipped beneath the back of his thermal, your face tucked into his neck and with a careful movement and a wince of pain, he shifts onto his side to see you better. 

The soft curve of your cheek in the dark, the flutter of your lashes as you dream. The slope of your nose, your lips parted only just with soft, steady breaths. He watches the thrum of your pulse beat in the dark, so delicate, your skin unblemished and soft. It calls for his mouth, but it calls deeper than that too. 

She’s mine. 

The sentiment had been ripped out of his body without him even knowing, every plunge of his blade meant to protect you. A rage like he’d never felt before had taken over when the man threatened to violate you, surprising even him in its ferocity. His bicep was still sore from exertion, and looking at you now, he wants to find ten more men and do the same. 

He wants to kill everyone on this planet just to keep you safe. Just to make sure you never feel that type of fear again. 

He guides your head back into the crook of his neck, your nose fitting just right in the well of his collarbone as if it was always meant to be there. 

A soft, sleepy sigh escapes you, and he closes his eyes. Tucking his chin against the crown of your hair, he presses you closer. 

–

You half expect him to wake you up with a kiss, and half not. You aren’t sure how this is supposed to go. 

He's still asleep when you wake up, so you slip out from beside him and take a shower. The warmth of his skin lingers in the small space, water sliding over your sore muscles. 

“I’m gonna fuck that girl raw. Right next to your dead fucking –”

The memory of yesterday twists your stomach, and you scrub harder at your skin, as if the action could remove the words from your mind. They make you feel filthy, but more than that, it’s the mental image of Ezra’s dead body that haunts you. He came out on top yesterday, but if he hadn’t? You feel the weight of a sob gathering at the base of your throat, and you hold your face under the stream of water, letting the sound push everything away. 

You don’t want to cry again. You had cried enough last night – cried in front of him, something you’d never done in front of anyone before, not even your father. Normally it wouldn’t be something you’d let anyone see, but last night…last night you couldn’t help it. The fear inside you had risen to a pitch and then crashed, too many feelings swirling within you: relief that he was alive, pride that he killed for you, shame following close on its heels. True, bone deep terror at the thought of almost dying, and later, the release of desire that had been bottled up for weeks. 

You needed to purge every one of those emotions, and tucked against his body, you felt safe enough for the first time to do it in the presence of another human being. He petted your hair and stroked your back, absorbing it all in an uncharacteristic silence aside from the gentle sounds he made with his mouth. You poured everything out and he caught it all, holding you close until you felt calm enough to stop. 

You had slept better than you had since you got here, and when you step out of the shower to find Ezra digging through the bin that held his clothing, you sense he feels the same. Certainly looks it, even for someone who had been stabbed the night before. 

“Good morning, Birdie,” he greets you, fishing through the med kit. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod, feeling shy all of a sudden. Do you go over and kiss him? Do you talk to him like it never happened? The intimacy last night was so thick it was unbearable: all consuming, quiet and warm, safe from the light of day. A liminal space where the two of you let yourselves act on impulse. Did that still apply?

“I myself was going to take a shower. Did you leave any hot water for me?”

His casual words soothe your nerves. “Yea, there should be more than enough. I wasn’t in there for long.” 

He tosses fresh bandages on the cot next to him, and you see the old ones, crusted with blood, lying next to them. He stands, and the sharp inhale of pain that he lets out has you reaching for him, forgetting all the uncertainty about how you’re supposed to act this morning around him. 

“Are you okay? Did the bandage come off?”

“I took it off,” he says, and your eyes drop to the site of the wound, hidden under his shirt. His fingers lift the material, and you wince at the raw stitches. He drops the shirt, and moves closer. “I thought it would be best to clean it. Who knows where that blade has been.”

A new worry strikes: germs, the constant dust that covers everything on this godforsaken planet. 

As always, he is quick to reassure you. 

“Hey,” he says, using his knuckle to nudge your chin up until your eyes meet his. “You’re thinking about this too hard. You did a fine job stitching me up last night, and fine job cleaning everything before that. I just want to get all the grime off.” His thumb slides over your bottom lip, his eyes tracking its movement. 

The small touch is enough to swallow your worry whole, replacing it with anticipation. He’s giving you the green light, and resting your hands on his hips, you brace yourself against the light-headedness that strikes when he starts to slide his touch down – down your chin, his hand curling around the side of your throat as his thumb traces the line of your jaw. 

“I’ll be right back.”

He leaves you standing there, a girl-shaped pool of want, a loose-limbed trembling thing that aches – but it’s nothing compared to what you feel when he gets out of the shower. 

Opening the door, he walks out in just his briefs. Your breathing hitches, your own clothing too tight on skin that aches to slide against his. 

All pretenses gone, he sits down on his cot and the water droplets that linger on his tanned shoulders catch the light when he reaches for the fresh bandages. “Can you help?” he asks, holding them out towards you. 

He leans back on his hands, thighs spread wide. There is so much of him: the streak of white more pronounced against his damp hair, his broad chest, his firm thighs. Hair that dusts along his limbs, more skin of his than you’ve ever seen. For all the ways you’d imagined a scenario like this happening, it catches you off guard how overwhelming the real thing feels. 

In a haze, you move, coming to stand between his feet. He watches as you slowly kneel between his spread thighs, and the look on his face is almost proud, if it weren’t for the stark, blatant hunger in his eyes. 

Unsure of where to start, you force yourself to focus on the task at hand. 

His stomach tenses when you smear ointment over the wound. His throat bobs with a hard swallow when you lay fresh bandages in place, smoothing them down. Carefully cutting fresh strips of tape, you try to ignore the way his tongue slides along his bottom lip as your fingers gently press them into place around the edges of the dressing. 

You perform a slow inspection to make sure it’s airtight – one that continues, even after you’re satisfied. 

Your eyes flit up to his in question, and the look he returns is as steady as you’ve ever seen it, full of silent permission. 

Splaying your fingers, the air between you feels heavy as you run an exploratory path along the curve of his hip, and up along the ridged muscles along his ribs. His body radiates heat underneath your palm, his skin smooth where it isn’t marred with numerous scars. Lighter against his flesh, they stand out: a thin slice along his ribs, a jagged, ugly looking thing on his inner thigh. When you get to the hair that collects beneath his navel, his thighs tense around your waist, but he remains otherwise still. 

Your mouth waters at the bulge at the crux of his thighs, a slowly thickening heft that forms underneath the dark fabric. Resting your hands on the top of his thighs, you shuffle your knees closer and you can hear his breath catch when you bend forward, pressing your mouth just over his bandage. 

The first sound he makes since you started rumbles out of his chest: a low, husky groan.

“C’mere,” he says, his voice rough. He pats his lap, and giving the bandage another kiss, you obey, climbing up to straddle him. 

When you’re fully seated, his hands settle lightly on your hips, and he takes his time looking. 

“Listen to me,” he murmurs, and you do, enraptured. A live wire in his hold, your body stands on the edge of a precipice. 

“This goes only as far as you want it to. You say stop, I’ll stop.”

“And if I don’t?”

The grin that spreads across his face can only be described as filthy. Filled with intent, something inside him waiting to pounce. You can see it in his eyes, hidden underneath the rich brown. Lying in wait, letting you come to him. You’re both exercising your own amount of restraint – yours is a bundle of nerves, his is a deep chasm of hunger. 

“Then I won’t,” he breathes against your lips, right before he meets them with his own. 

The press of his mouth sparks to life the unlit match inside you that was waiting for this. Your arms wind around his shoulders, his own curling around your waist. His hands press underneath your shirt, splaying over your back, so big his fingers almost touch and you can feel the thick ridge of his cock beneath you. Grinding on it, you almost sob with how good it feels after thinking about it for so long. 

You want to be filled so bad it hurts. 

He keeps kissing you: hands cupping your cheeks to hold you in place, sliding down your sides in a weighty drag, shoving themselves underneath the band of your thermals to grab handfuls of your ass. Back up again to tug your shirt off, molding to your tits to push them together with a groan. His mouth moves to kiss them instead of your lips, his whiskers dragging across the skin just above your bra, his tongue sliding along your sternum with a lick.

Pulling back, he works at the front clasp of your bra. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do everything that I’d like to,” he says, his eyes flicking down to his wound. “But I’m not totally useless.”

He tosses your bra to the floor, and your back arches when he uses his thumbs to rub the tight buds of your nipples right before he replaces the touch with his mouth. He sucks them each in turn, his tongue laving over each sensitive peak, drawing them into his mouth, and biting the plump flesh around them when he cups his hand to push more of it into his mouth. He’s rough with you as his hunger grows, guiding your willing body into position and pressing his hold against your back, his kisses move up your chest to lick at your throat, his teeth catching the skin there. He nibbles on the curve of your jaw, sucks on your earlobe and the crotch of your leggings are soaked when his lips brush along the shell of your ear. 

“I’ve waited so long, Birdie. So long.” His hand slides into the hair along your nape, and he tugs, tipping your head back until you’re looking at him. “I know you have too.”

Your pulse racing in your chest, your belly jumps when you feel his other hand skim along your bare stomach. His eyes stay on yours as his touch skims lower and lower, teasing at the waistband of your leggings. He tucks his fingers inside, a fresh pool of slick wetting your underwear when he brushes against the soft thatch of your pubic hair. 

“Is it wet for me?” he asks. 

Helpless, you nod, swallowing hard. Your fingers curl into his biceps, and his hold on your hair tightens. 

“Can I touch it?”

You nod again, and he grins, a dimple catching at his cheek. His hand slips lower, his wrist forcing your leggings down in the front. 

“The amount of time I’ve thought about doing this. About touching you here.”

Tandem groans of relief sound through the air when his fingers meet the slick wetness that waits for him, his touch sliding through your seam before he presses his fingers up, up, up, your mouth dropping open as he fills you. 

“You already feel like heaven between your thighs,” he says, the words dripping in reverence. “I wish I could taste the bliss that is your cunt.”

The filthy words ratchet you higher, the inside of your thighs straining as you grind yourself into his hand to force his fingers deeper. Like he was being quiet during your exploration only to ambush your senses when he was ready, his words are endless, dripping with intent. 

“Tell me where it hurts, Birdie. Let me soothe the ache.”

“Show me, little one. Show me how you’ve thought about me doing this.”

Your hand wraps around his wrist as you steady yourself, a frown of pleasure etched deep between your brows and you fuck yourself on his thick fingers, your hips never stopping in their roll. His thumb finds your clit, and you cry out towards the ceiling of the pod, a sound that makes him chuckle, dark sounding and pleased. 

A trembling mess on his lap, you’re helpless as he forces you higher and higher, his fingers filling and precise, sliding against a deep spot inside you that you’ve only dreamed of. Just as lethal as he is outside, just as in command as he always is, he plays your body like he’s played it a thousand times before – every stroke tipping you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, breathless. “Fuck.”

“Here?” he asks, smiling when you curl forward, resting your head against his shoulder. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on. Everything that you’ve wanted the entire time you’ve been stuck here with him swirls and blends with everything you’ve ever always wanted and never got, and when he adds a third finger you look at him with hooded, pleading eyes – only to see dark victory in his own. 

He doesn’t have to goad you to tip you over the edge. 

It’s like a forceful shove off a cliff, your body floating through the air. Your jaw is clenched, your cunt clenching even tighter in pulses that squeeze his fingers and he watches it all with a greedy, proud expression. 

“There you go,” he talks you through it. 

“There’s my girl,” he praises, capturing your mouth in a kiss. 

–

It’s a scramble after that to get back down on the floor. 

He’s sucking on his fingers with a low, desperate groan and you’re tugging his briefs down. 

He’s watching as you take him out, hardening at the way your eyes widen. 

Your hand struggles to wrap fully around him, but you don’t hesitate a second before bending to guide him into your mouth. Your lips stretch around the thick tip of his cock, your tongue sliding along the sensitive underside, tracing the line of a vein. Sliding him deeper along your palate, his balls draw up, his cock hardening to the point of near-pain. Your hand works the thick base while you press forward to fit him along the back of your tongue, and it only takes a couple of deep throated strokes to bring him to the edge, with how long he’s been waiting. 

Wanting. 

Driving himself to madness, thinking about the taste of your cunt. 

At the thought, he sucks on his fingers again, and you raise your eyes to watch, a moan sliding out of your throat to caress the length of his cock. 

“Shit, Birdie. Shit,” he warns, hands fisting the blanket on his cot as he leans back to widen his thighs. They tremble along your shoulders, the muscles flexing under your palm where you stroke the inside of one. You find the scar you saw earlier and glide your touch over it, pressing your fingers into his flesh as you force him to the back of your throat. 

At that, he comes. 

Loud and filthy, the groan that he lets out is strained at the end as he pours over the back of your tongue. 

His fingers clench and flex, his eyes pinched shut as if he can’t bear looking as he fills your mouth with pulses of thick, pearly spend. Weeks of tension drain into your waiting mouth, enough that you can’t catch it all. 

When you pull back to swipe at a glistening thread of it that escapes your swollen mouth, there is something so innocent about the gesture that he groans again, this time a plea of his own. 

Pushing on your shoulders, he slides off the cot to drop to his knees in his haste to kiss you. 

You taste like you and like him, and he’s addicted, his cock firming with every lick inside your mouth. You whimper into the messy kiss, and it drives him to near madness the way he knows that if he would touch you right now, he’d find you soaked. 

He can’t fuck you – not with his stomach the way that it is – but he can do other things. 

So many other things. 

“I knew it,” he breathes into your mouth, guiding you onto the floor beneath him. “I knew it would be this good.”

You preen underneath him, reaching to pull him down on top of you. 

“I want more,” you beg. “Please, Ez. Please.”

The juxtaposition of how innocent you look while begging for something so filthy claws at his insides, his body reveling in the urge to teach you just how many ways he can make you feel good. 

He grins, bending down to devour you whole.

[ghostlynightpanda]

helloo again i have again, another stupid request 💔 can i get a aib characters fic where the reader looks like a guy but a girl?? i get mistaken a lot as a guy when im a GIRL 💔 (again take ur time and ur also always free to decline my request 🥳)

AIB Characters react to fem!reader looking like a guy

A/N: I totally get that. When I was in middle school, I had short hair, broad shoulders, and was quite flat-chested, and I was constantly mistaken for a guy. So, I really enjoyed writing for a fem!reader with the same experience. Thanks for requesting it!

content/warnings: Ann, Kuina, Mira, Aguni, Niragi, Last Boss, Chishiya, fem!reader, mentions of blood and violence, 4.541 words

Ann

Ann had always trusted what she saw. She was analytical. Calculated. Observant. Her job before the Borderlands had demanded it—and surviving here demanded it even more. She caught every detail: twitches, glances, shifts in body weight, the slight raise of a voice before a lie.

Which is why it frustrated her that you had slipped past her radar.

You blended in at first. Short hair, broad shoulders, sharp jawline—most people at the Beach pegged you as just another quiet, capable guy. You didn’t correct them. You barely spoke unless necessary. Just handled your tasks, stayed out of the drama, and vanished when it wasn't game time.

It wasn’t your appearance that made Ann notice you—it was your consistency.

You didn’t posture like the others. Didn’t try to impress or get involved in the constant Beach politics. Instead, you showed up when people needed you—always calm, always ready. You stayed late to help count supplies. You picked up trash without anyone asking. You quietly patched up teammates after games, even ones who didn’t deserve it.

And Ann—who trusted discipline and function over flash—noticed.

You started trailing her in small ways. Sitting beside her during briefings. Standing a little closer during tense games. Offering her water or field dressings when you noticed a scrape she hadn’t even felt yet. At first, she assumed it was practicality. Maybe admiration. But it didn’t feel like that.

It felt… steady. Familiar. Like the kind of loyalty that didn’t ask for anything back.

The night she really saw you—saw you beyond your sharp lines and silent presence—was after a particularly brutal Diamonds game.

Rain pelted the compound as Ann returned, soaked to the bone and limping from a fall she hadn’t even registered during the adrenaline rush. Her wet clothes clung to her, cold already setting into her bones. The firepit glowed in the distance, and there you were—already back. Already waiting.

You stood up when you saw her, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders and moving to meet her halfway.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and warm over the rain.

“I’m fine,” Ann replied automatically.

“You’re lying,” you said, just as calmly. “Your right leg is dragging, and you’re holding your ribs.”

She gave a tired sigh. She didn’t have the energy to argue. Not with you.

Without waiting for permission, you pulled out a sealed thermal bottle and handed it to her.

“Tea,” you explained. “Still hot.”

She accepted it.

Then came the gauze and antiseptic from your inner jacket pocket. You always carried a basic kit, even outside of games. You motioned to the bench under the roof, out of the rain. Ann followed silently, watching you kneel beside her and start unwrapping her arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She studied you in the quiet moments between the sting of alcohol and the soft press of gauze. You worked methodically, but gently. Respectfully. Not once had you treated her like she needed saving—but you never let her walk away bleeding, either.

Then, just as casually as you began, you asked:

“You know I’m a girl, right?”

Ann blinked once. Looked down at you.

“I figured,” she replied.

You smiled faintly, but your voice remained steady. “Most people still think I’m a guy. I don’t really care. It’s just… easier not to explain.”

Ann gave a soft hum of acknowledgment. She appreciated that kind of practicality. You weren’t hiding. You just had other priorities.

“I’ve known for a while,” she said finally, tone even. “Doesn’t change anything.”

You met her gaze then, really looked at her.

“It doesn’t?”

“No,” she said. “You're still you.”

And that was what mattered.

You sat back on your heels, brushing your hands on your pants. “Guess I wanted to make sure… you knew. That you saw me.”

Ann's eyes softened—just a fraction. “I see you.”

There was something grounding in the way she said it. No embellishment. No overcompensation. Just truth.

You reached into your pocket and offered her half a protein bar. “You should eat something too.”

Ann accepted it. As her fingers brushed yours, she felt the familiar weight of your presence—the calm beneath the chaos, the way you were always just there, quietly choosing her without needing anything in return.

And for a moment, she let herself lean toward you. Just enough to rest her temple briefly against your shoulder. Not long. Not dramatic.

But enough to say: I trust you too.

You stayed that way for a while. The fire crackled. The rain eased. The world, for once, slowed down.

Kuina 

The first time Kuina met you, she thought you were a guy.

To be fair, most people did. You had short-cropped hair, a low voice, strong shoulders, and a way of walking that screamed quiet confidence. You dressed in hand-me-downs that leaned masculine, and you didn’t offer much in the way of personal details—not in a world like this, where names and pronouns were often the least of anyone’s worries.

You showed up to the Beach after a club game, face smeared with dirt, eyes sharp and tired. You didn’t talk much—just helped two wounded strangers limp through the gates, then sat in the corner while others celebrated the victory like it was a festival and not just a temporary pause in survival.

Kuina noticed you right away.

Not because of how you looked—but how you moved. Like you were used to being overlooked. Like you knew how to take up space just enough to be useful, but never enough to be noticed.

She’d been that person once, too.

So she approached you first.

“Cool under pressure,” she said, flopping down beside you on the sun-warmed step of the pool deck. “You always this calm?”

You looked over, surprised. A flash of something curious passed through your eyes.

“Not really,” you replied. “Just too tired to freak out.”

Kuina chuckled. “Relatable.”

You shared a water bottle. She made you laugh. And by the end of the day, you were still sitting side by side—two strangers pretending they didn’t already like the other’s vibe.

A few weeks passed, and your paths kept crossing. She’d bump your shoulder playfully when you walked by. You’d share your rations with her after games—always saving her favorite snack without her asking. There was something easy about you. You didn’t flirt. You didn’t brag. You just showed up, again and again, steady as hell.

Then one day, it happened.

Some loudmouthed Beach member was talking to Kuina by the bar, throwing off-handed remarks about how “her boyfriend” always hung around like a guard dog.

Kuina raised an eyebrow. “My what?”

The guy motioned toward you, where you were lounging against the wall with your usual calm, masculine swagger. “Tall, quiet, short hair. What’s his name again?”

She smirked. “Her name is Y/N.”

He blinked. “Wait… she’s a girl?”

Kuina leaned in, voice low and dangerous. “Problem with that?”

The guy backpedaled. “N-no. Just didn’t know. Thought she was—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Kuina warned, smiling like it wasn’t a threat when it very much was.

Later that night, when you found her on the rooftop overlooking the dark city skyline, you handed her a salvaged soda can and leaned on the railing beside her.

“Heard you corrected someone today,” you said casually, not quite meeting her eye.

Kuina shrugged. “Wasn’t a big deal.”

You gave her a sideways glance. “You didn’t have to.”

She turned to you then, leaning her side against yours. “Yeah, I did. You’re not hiding who you are. You just don’t walk around explaining it. And I like that about you.”

You swallowed a flicker of emotion and tried to hide it behind a chuckle. “Well… I guess I’m not the most traditionally feminine.”

Kuina rolled her eyes, then reached up to fix a piece of your wind-tossed hair. “You’re you. And honestly? I’ve never been into labels. Strong. Loyal. Smart. Brave. Girl. Guy. Who cares?”

You looked down at her, touched by her certainty. “Doesn’t weird you out?”

She snorted. “Y/N. I’m a trans woman who used to get beat up for wearing lip gloss. I think I’m the last person who’s gonna get weird about gender.”

You laughed softly, and for the first time, you let your head rest gently against hers.

“I like you,” you murmured.

Kuina smiled and nudged your side with her elbow. “Good. ‘Cause I already decided I’m keeping you.”

The two of you stood there under the stars—neither of you fitting into any neat little boxes, but fitting perfectly together.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt seen—not despite who you were, but because of it.

Mira 

The Beach was a stage, and Mira played her role flawlessly.

Graceful. Poised. Untouchable.

She weaved illusions with her smile, wielded charm like a weapon, and left most people either worshipping her or terrified of her. Sometimes both. And she liked it that way.

So when you arrived—stoic, sharp-jawed, with short hair and an air of unbothered calm—she immediately noticed. People assumed you were a guy, and you didn’t correct them. You never did.

That only made you more fascinating to her.

At first, Mira observed you like she would a puzzle. You didn’t chase clout, didn’t flirt for power, didn’t clamor to be noticed like the others. You just existed, somewhere on the edges of every room, somehow present and invisible at once.

Strong hands. Square jaw. Voice low and steady. Everything about you screamed masculine at first glance. But when she looked closer, there was more than your looks—softness in the way you helped carry another player to the infirmary after a brutal game. Gentleness in the way you tucked your jacket over a child’s shoulders during a cold night.

She cornered you one afternoon, just outside the lounge.

“You don’t talk much,” she said, her heels clicking across the tile as she approached.

You shrugged, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Not much to say.”

She smiled, tilting her head. “You’re not like the others.”

You raised a brow. “Because I don’t flirt with you?”

“No.” Her eyes twinkled. “Because you don’t try to impress anyone. And yet, you still stand out.”

You blinked. “…Was that a compliment?”

She stepped closer, voice lower. “Maybe.”

There was a pause before you said, “You know I’m a woman, right?”

Her smile didn’t falter—if anything, it sharpened. “Of course.”

You waited for the awkwardness. The judgment. The shift in energy you’d felt with others once they realized you weren’t the man they assumed you were.

But Mira just looked at you like you were a riddle she wanted to solve.

“I like things that defy expectation,” she murmured, circling you like a cat. “You… are very unexpected.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

She chuckled, stopping in front of you. “No. People never see what’s real. But you—” her fingers gently grazed the collar of your shirt, eyes flicking up to meet yours, “—you don’t hide. You just don’t explain. That’s far more honest than most.”

You swallowed, caught off guard by how close she was, how easily she slipped under your skin.

“…You’re not what I expected either,” you admitted.

“Oh?” She leaned in, whispering against your cheek. “And what did you expect?”

“Someone colder,” you said honestly. “But you’re warm. In a scary way.”

She laughed, genuine and soft, brushing a kiss against your jawline. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Later that night, you sat with her in the candlelight of her private room, legs stretched out beside hers, your short hair still damp from a post-game rinse.

Mira toyed with your fingers, examining them like they were rare treasures. “People see what they want,” she said. “But I see you. And you’re… beautiful, in a way they don’t have the vocabulary for.”

You looked at her, disarmed. “Is this flirting or psychoanalysis?”

“Yes,” she just whispered, smiling.

You didn’t need to play pretend with her. And she didn’t need to wear a mask around you.

In a world of illusions, you were a constant.

And to Mira, that was the most dangerously attractive thing of all.

Aguni

No one questioned Aguni. He didn’t leave space for it.

With his broad frame, stern eyes, and a presence that silenced rooms, most people either followed his orders or gave him a wide berth. He didn’t speak unless necessary. Didn’t smile. Didn’t entertain foolishness.

And yet… there was you.

You, with your short-cropped hair, muscular frame, and steady, quiet confidence that matched his own. You didn’t dress to be seen, didn’t care for appearances. Most people assumed you were another one of the Beach’s more intimidating men—until you spoke, and the edge of your voice softened into something unmistakably feminine.

It always caught them off guard. Never you.

You didn't bother correcting anyone anymore. You let them think what they wanted. But Aguni? He knew—from the very first moment.

He remembered the first time he saw you. You were helping lift a wounded player onto a makeshift gurney, barking orders with efficient calm. People listened. And he watched—not because you were loud or flashy, but because your presence settled over the space like gravity. Like his own.

You noticed him watching, gave him a nod.

Not a smile. Not an attempt to charm.

Just recognition. Like two wolves meeting eyes across a clearing.

From then on, he watched you more.

And when people made snide remarks under their breath—about how you “must be a guy” or asked dumb, dismissive questions like “you sure you’re in the right body?”—he saw how you absorbed it. Quietly. Like a bruise you didn’t bother treating.

One day, during weapons training, a new recruit made a comment too loud to ignore.

“Hey—no offense, man—uh, ma’am? Whatever. You don’t really look like a woman.”

You didn’t flinch. Just kept wrapping your hands for sparring, jaw tight.

But Aguni turned, slow and cold, his gaze settling on the recruit like a loaded gun.

“You questioning her gender,” he said, voice low and dark, “or her ability to kick your ass?”

The guy sputtered and quickly found somewhere else to be.

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He looked at you steadily. “I know. But I wanted to.”

You blinked, caught off guard for the first time in a while. “…Thanks,” you muttered, tugging your wrist wrap tighter.

“You fight like you’ve got something to prove,” he said after a long pause. “But you don’t have to. Not with me.”

That was the beginning of… something.

You two started training together—long hours of sweat and silence and mutual understanding. No judgment. No explanations. Just quiet respect growing between two people who didn’t give themselves easily.

It wasn’t until a month later, after a brutal game, that something shifted.

You returned bloody and limping, your shoulder torn open from a near-miss. Aguni was waiting at the gate, arms crossed, jaw locked with restrained panic.

“You’re late,” he said, voice gruff.

You gave him a tired grin. “What, miss me?”

He didn’t answer. Just stepped forward and guided your arm over his shoulder, holding you up with more care than you expected.

Later, in the infirmary, while he helped clean the wound, you muttered, “You’re not what people think you are.”

He paused, pressing gauze against your skin. “…Neither are you.”

The room fell quiet, save for your breathing.

Then he added, almost too softly, “That’s why I see you.”

You looked up. Not like a soldier. Not like someone trying to be hard. Just… you.

Raw. Unmasked.

And in that quiet moment, Aguni touched your jaw gently—rough fingers brushing the scar at your chin, the sweat at your temple.

You leaned into his touch, exhaling slowly. “Thank you.”

Aguni wasn’t the type to care about labels or assumptions. He saw the fire in your eyes, the strength in your spine, the loyalty in the way you always came back alive.

He didn’t fall for you because of how you looked. He fell for the way you stayed—honest, unflinching, and real.

And in a world built on masks, that meant everything.

Niragi 

To most people, you were another guy with a bad attitude and better aim.

You kept your hair short, dressed in loose cargo gear, moved like a soldier. The scars didn’t help. Neither did your low voice or the way you stood like you’d been through too much already. No one looked at you twice unless you had a gun drawn.

Except Niragi.

Niragi looked at everything.

The first time he laid eyes on you, you were mid-argument with another resident at the beach who tried to pull a fast one during ration distribution. You had one foot on the table, arms crossed, eyes sharp. Not yelling—just cold, controlled, and way too steady for someone that pissed off.

Niragi whistled low under his breath.

“Who’s the hardass?” he asked Aguni, who glanced toward you.

“New recruit,” Aguni said. “Good with a rifle. Keeps to themself.”

Niragi squinted. “He?”

Aguni paused. “She.”

His interest lit like a match. And so began the game.

You were used to the looks. The confusion. The "sir—sorry, ma'am" whiplash. You didn’t care. Let them think what they wanted. You weren’t here to impress anyone.

But Niragi didn’t misgender you. Not once. Even when he was being a sarcastic prick.

“Hey, soldier girl,” he said one night, slipping into the shooting range where you were quietly dismantling your gear. “You always this intense, or is it just a me thing?”

You didn’t even glance up. “Are you here to be useful or irritating?”

“Oh, baby, I’m always both,” he grinned, tilting his head. “Mind if I watch?”

You shrugged. “Your funeral.”

He did watch—curiously, silently—while you reassembled your gun in record time. Then again. Then blindfolded.

“You trying to prove something?” he asked eventually.

“No,” you said, sliding the magazine in with a satisfying click. “I just like being good at things people think I shouldn’t be.”

Niragi’s smile faltered—just for a second. Something flickered behind his eyes. Recognition.

That night was the beginning of… well, something. He started showing up more. Not talking much. Just lingering. Sitting next to you at meals. Watching you during games. Asking questions like he was trying to figure you out.

You weren’t sure what to make of him at first. He was wild, volatile, unpredictable—everything you’d learned to avoid. But somehow, around you, he was quieter. Not soft. Just... observant.

It wasn’t until you came back from a game bloodied and limping that things cracked open.

He saw you first—dragging yourself through the gates, one sleeve soaked in red.

“You’re late,” he snapped, storming forward, grabbing your arm before you could collapse.

You gave him a lopsided grin. “Missed me?”

He scowled. “Don’t joke.”

“I’m not. I know you worry.” You looked up at him. “I see it, even when you pretend not to.”

He said nothing, jaw clenched. Then his fingers ghosted along the bruises at your ribs. Hesitating. “I hate how you do that,” he muttered.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re invincible.” His voice was quieter now. “Like none of this touches you.”

You reached up, brushed his cheek with the back of your knuckles.

“I act like that because if I stop, I’ll break. And I don’t think I get to break—not here.”

Niragi’s hands curled around yours, eyes locked on your face. “People look at you and see something else,” he murmured. “They don’t see you.”

You smiled faintly. “You do.”

He kissed you then—not gentle, but not cruel either. Just real. Messy. Hungry. Honest.

Afterwards, curled up beside you in the half-dark, he whispered against your throat, “They don’t know who the hell you are.” He growled, low and almost possessive. “But they should. After all, you’re mine.”

Last Boss

No one talked to Last Boss unless they had to. And you? Well—people rarely looked at you long enough to talk.

You moved like a ghost—short-cropped hair, masculine frame, no makeup, voice low and clipped. In a world where appearances were currency, you were hard to read and easy to overlook. Most assumed you were a guy. Those who found out otherwise either avoided the subject or acted weird about it.

But Last Boss… didn’t do either.

You officially met during a club game—a violent, raw thing that ended with both of you bloodied and standing over a pile of bodies. You had a knife in one hand, a torn jacket in the other. He had his katana and his silence.

You caught his eye across the field.

Most people looked away from Last Boss. You didn’t. You nodded once in quiet respect and he nodded back.

No words. No assumptions. Just two shadows recognizing each other.

And that’s how it started. With silence. 

Every morning, you trained near the pool, before the others woke up—fast strikes, footwork drills, knifework, whatever helped keep you alive. And every morning, after a while, you’d notice a presence nearby.

Last Boss.

Always at a distance. Always watching. He never said anything, but he didn’t leave either.

Eventually, he sat beside you.

You’d toss him a ration bar without looking. He’d accept it wordlessly.

No one knew what to make of the two of you—two quiet figures in black, sitting under the early sun, barely speaking. Some thought you were both weird. Some thought you were dangerous. But no one bothered you.

And that was exactly how you liked it.

It wasn’t until a tense Diamonds game—one involving deception, lies, and masks—that someone tried to flirt with you, loudly calling you “bro” and “handsome.”

Last Boss, standing beside you, said nothing.

Until the person reached for your shoulder.

“She is not your bro,” he said, voice low and final, hand already resting on his sword.

The room went still.

Your eyes widened slightly. He’d never said anything about your gender before—not even privately.

The player backed off, awkward and pale.

Later, when it was just you two by the firepit, you finally broke the silence.

“You knew?”

He nodded once, eyes on the flames.

“And you never asked? Never said anything?”

“I don’t care what they see,” he said, voice soft. “I see you.”

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “It never bothered you?”

He turned toward you slowly, gaze sharp but not cruel. “You move like someone who’s had to survive by being misunderstood,” he said. “So do I.”

You blinked. For once, the walls around your chest cracked a little. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“It’s fine,” he replied, fingers brushing yours.

It was quiet again, but not empty.

He didn’t kiss you—not yet. But the way he held your hand was a promise. The kind you didn’t get in the Borderlands.

The kind that meant I know who you are—and I choose you anyway.

Chishiya 

Chishiya didn’t miss things. He was observant. Cold. Calculating. The kind of person who could spot a lie before it was even spoken.

The fact that he—out of everyone—never once misgendered you felt almost obvious. And yet, you noticed it immediately.

Most people assumed. Because of the way you looked. The short hair. Broad shoulders. Loose, practical clothing. You didn’t correct them anymore. It was exhausting, and you had more important things to survive.

But Chishiya?

He never got it wrong. Not once.

You hadn’t even told him.

It started during a Clubs game.

You were both teamed up with strangers—four players, one objective. You were quiet, competent, and efficient. The others underestimated you, thinking you were just another guy with good reflexes.

But Chishiya watched the way you moved. The careful way you ducked behind cover, the way your voice softened when calming a panicking teammate. He noticed your precision. The control. The walls.

You were like him, in that way.

After the game, while the others argued about splitting resources, you walked past Chishiya, flipping a ration bar into his hand.

“You didn’t have to help me back there,” you said.

“I didn’t do it for you,” he replied, studying the label on the bar. “I did it for the win.”

“Mmhm,” you said, eyes narrowing. “Sure.”

You kept walking.

He stared after you, just a little too long.

After that, you kept running into him. At first, it was coincidence. A shared elevator. Sitting at the same corner of the beach compound, reading in silence. Passing each other during late-night supply runs.

Eventually, it wasn’t coincidence anymore.

He sought you out.

Sometimes he’d sit next to you without speaking. Sometimes you’d pass him a bottle of water or a protein bar without making eye contact.

The first time someone called you “he” in front of him, Chishiya didn’t flinch. He simply corrected them without emotion.

“She,” he said, not even glancing up from the book in his hand.

The air seemed to freeze.

You blinked, and the other player quickly stammered out an apology, retreating in haste.

Later, when it was just you and Chishiya, you asked, your voice carefully neutral, “You knew?”

Chishiya shrugged lightly. “It was obvious. To anyone actually paying attention.”

“…And you didn’t say anything?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I?”

That made you pause, staring at him.

Chishiya leaned back, eyes half-lidded. “I don’t state obvious things, so why bother saying something? I’m obviously a man, and you’re obviously a woman—unless, of course, you don’t want to be.”

“No,” you said quickly, “I do. I’m happy being a woman.”

“See?” He gave a half-smile, leaning forward slightly. “So why bother pointing out what’s already clear?”

You stilled for a moment, before giving him a small, sincere smile. “Thank you.”

Over time, his presence became something familiar.

You weren’t the touchy type. Neither was he. But occasionally, your hands would brush when exchanging items. Once, he fell asleep beside you while you were keeping watch. You didn’t wake him.

And then one day, during a Hearts game, you took a hit meant for him.

It wasn’t intentional. Not really. But you saw the knife, saw him just a second too late, and you moved.

The wound was shallow, but it rattled him.

He sat with you after, shirt stained with blood, expression unreadable.

“You’re reckless,” he said.

You smirked through the pain. “You’re welcome.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then:

“You matter to me. Whether you like that or not.”

You blinked. “Chishiya…”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks you are,” he murmured. “I care who you are. And I’ve been paying attention.”

You swallowed hard.

“…I care too.”

He leaned back against the wall, close enough that your shoulders touched.

It wasn’t a love story born in flowers or firelight. It was born in silence, in glances, in moments of loyalty and sharp edges.

And somehow, that made it even more real.

Masterlist

[sluttywonwoo]

I have such a gross fantasy of Joshua Hong fucking me gently in front of a fire in a cabin while it snows. That man is so romantic and sweet I have a toothache

"warm now, baby?"

you smile and hum in affirmation as you hug your knees to your chest, watching joshua stoke the fire.

he joins you on top of the blanket he'd laid on the floor a moment later when the flames are roaring and the firewood is crackling in the hearth.

then he wraps his arm around you and kisses you on the forehead. "what about now?"

"even better," you answer. "but i think i could stand to be even warmer."

joshua raises his eyebrows. "oh yeah?"

"mhm."

you shrug off his arm and lay down on the blanket, pulling him with you so that he's hovering over you. he gets the hint instantly, probably because it wasn't so much of a hint as it was an obvious invitation, and kisses you on the lips. he's tugging at your thermal top in almost no time, pausing only when he remembers just how cold you had been up until this point.

"are you sure you want to do this now? we can wait."

"yes, i'm sure. i want you now, shua," you whine, wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles behind his back to pull him closer.

he half laughs, half moans as you grind up into him, feeling him start to harden through his sweatpants.

"okay, why don't we keep your shirt on then? we can take everything else off."

it's not really a compromise you want to make but you settle for it anyway, too desperate to try and protest further.

joshua pulls your shirt back down over your tummy and moves on to your pants, getting them and your underwear off in one fluid motion. he whistles under his breath at the sight between your thighs.

"no wonder you were so impatient. you're already soaked for me."

you've been dating for so long that you shouldn't get flustered when your boyfriend says things like that but you feel your cheeks warm in embarrassment all the same. he smirks at your reaction which makes you even wetter, something you hope he doesn't notice.

"poor thing. i won't make you wait too long, baby. just a second..." joshua yanks his t-shirt off over his head and lays it underneath yours like a pillow before shimmying out of his sweats and slotting himself between your legs. "ready?"

"yeah, give it to me."

"so romantic," he mutters, pushing himself inside of you anyway.

it isn't often that joshua fucks you without any foreplay but the main goal today is to warm you up and anything that isn't straight-up fucking you would leave part of your body exposed to the cold. like this, he can lay his body on top of yours like a weighted blanket and keep you warm as he gently fucks into you. it's exactly what he does, draping himself over you as he starts to move.

already, you feel warmer. whether it's due to the fire, his body heat, or his dick inside of you, you can't be sure but if you were a betting woman, you'd put your money on it being a combination of the three.

he's going slow to let you adjust to the stretch but it still feels like he's splitting you in half with every thrust. it feels heavenly, though. almost too good. you swear you're seeing god every time he bottoms out and the way he's praising you like you are one is making it impossible to stay grounded.

"i love you," joshua whispers, pressing his lips to your neck. "i love you so much, you're taking it so well for me."

it's all too much. too much and not nearly enough and you want to stay like this with him forever but you also want to fucking cum over and over and...

and he looks so pretty in the firelight. the ever-changing glow flickering against his skin makes him appear radiant, like all the colors of the sunset are being projected on him in waves.

"feels so good, shua," you gasp, back arching off the floor.

he strokes your cheek. "i can tell. you're crying already, my love."

you sniffle, giggling deliriously as you try to blink the tears out of your eyes. his figure is blurred behind them and you want to see him clearly. "i d-didn't even notice. 'm sorry."

"don't apologize, baby. you know i love making you cry- well, in this context, of course. means i'm doing something right."

"you're doing everything right," you confirm.

joshua sucks in a breath to steel himself before continuing. "for what it's worth, you f-feel so good too, baby. you're so fucking warm and tight... i don't know how long i'm going to last."

he sounds apologetic about it but you shake your head and grip his shoulders like you're going to give him a pep talk. "we have all night," you assure him. "we can go as many times as we want, as long as you're here keeping me warm."

[rabbitsrams]

snowy mornings - jschlatt x reader

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, teensy bit suggestive at the end :)

wordcount: 1.1k

a/n: its not even close to winter but i wrote most of this in one sitting so enjoy hehe

(moodboard by me, pictures not mine)

The sun barely peeks past the clouds. Small sprinkles of snow are still falling from the gray sky as Schlatt leaves the house. 

He's all bundled up. He's wearing at least four layers underneath his coat, something his mother always insisted he do. A hat that you got him as a gift is snug on his head and thermal gloves he's had since he was sixteen keep his hands warm. 

He looks through one of the windows of the house as he walks to the sidewalk, knowing you are still sleeping. He wishes he could be back in bed with you. Wishes he could have you in his arms. Wishes he was wrapped in blankets with you by his side as the heater warms the room.

But he's got a shovel in his hand, carrying the thing over his shoulder while he goes to the corner of the block, freezing his ass off even through all the layers.

His poor neighbors, elderly and helpless. They always thanked him whenever he shoveled for them, asking their children to come over and bring him some baked goods once the afternoon came. He didn't do it for some reward or anything, he knew some fucker would try to fall on their unshoveled property and “sue them for all they're worth,” as he told you one time. He just wanted to help them out and make sure their pathways were cleared.

He forgot to bring headphones out, so instead of blasting King Krule and Radiohead, he listened to the scraping of the metal against the concrete. The scraping that echoed throughout the entire block, likely waking light sleepers from their slumber. You were one of those light sleepers, and yet you stayed asleep. 

It was taxing going around the corner and back to his house to clear pathways for walkers alike. His neighbors would do it as well but in due time. They weren't early risers like he was. But only in the winter.

Memories of his father waking him and his brother up at ungodly hours to shovel after overnight blizzards crashed their way into New York. Those mornings were silent as well; it was like the grating scraping was music to his father's ears.

He managed to complete all the shoveling in less than an hour, his personal record. 

Quickly walking back up the driveway as the sun completely rose, he placed the shovel against the garage and went back inside, shivering and stomping the snow out of his boots. 

He yawned as he took his hat off. He placed it on the flat part of the handrail, looking at how the snow immediately started to melt into the fur. The gloves were next, he was shocked his fingers weren't completely numb. Then the jacket, also hastily hung next to yours, untouched since yesterday. The boots were left right by the door to be moved later as he walked up the stairs and to the bedroom where he discarded the extra layers.

He didn't see you stir as he entered the room. Even in your tired state, you could tell he was out of bed. You opened your eyes and saw him undressing, remaining in an old t-shirt from his father's college days and flannel pajama bottoms you often coveted.

You stretch, yawning softly. That gets his attention. He walks toward the bed and wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. You're shocked awake by how cold his nose is.

“You're so warm...” he says, your neck muffling his words.

“Baby, you're freezing,” you hum as you pull him into bed with you. “Did you go out and shovel?”

“I always do.”

“Aww...” you kiss him on the cheek as you wrap the blanket around him. “You're so good.” 

He hums a response, cuddling close to you. He holds you tight against him, wrapping his limbs around you in an awkward manner.

“You are too fucking tall.” You joke. 

“And you are too fucking beautiful,” He kisses your neck many times. “And warm.”

“Go back to sleep, honey. You need to rest.”

“'S long as I can hold you in my arms like this, I'll sleep forever.”

You giggle, your laughter turning into a soft yawn. “Even when you're tired as shit you're still corny...” Your eyes close as you begin to stroke his hair.

He wakes before you once more five hours later. Your hand is still resting on the side of his head while the hand where your wedding ring rests is closer to his face. 

He shifts slightly so he can have a better view of you. Your mouth is slightly agape as you breathe, your nose too stuffed for you to breathe through it properly. He can see the gap between your two front teeth, something that makes your smile all the more beautiful.

You eventually wake to the sight of your husband watching you. He’s smiling softly, tiredness still present in his eyes. “Hey, you all warmed up?”

“I am… you’re so pretty…” He lays his head on your chest. You smile, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Stay here, I’m gonna go get something,” You say as you try to get out of bed. He tries to grab you and bring you back to bed. “Just give me ten minutes, fifteen at most.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You come back ten minutes later with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He’s sitting up at this point, a hand running through his messy hair. He smiles when he smells the steaming beverage and reaches his arms out as you place it on the bedside table. You get back into bed and snuggle close to him as he blows on the drink.

“You remembered the marshmallows…” Schlatt says, a yawn obstructing his words. 

“Of course I did.” You say. He laughs softly and wraps an arm around you. He tries to take a sip of the hot chocolate but hisses in pain as it burns his tongue.

“Aw, fuck.”

“Burns?”

“Yeah,” Schlatt waves a hand in front of his open mouth to try and ease the pain.

“Want me to kiss it better?” You joke. He nods, leaning close to you. You grin as you cup his face in your hands, the hair on his muttonchops tickling your palms. You press your lips to his softly, letting out a soft noise of surprise when he slides his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He tastes like hot chocolate and home.

When you pull away, his face is tinted red. “All better?” You ask, feeling your face heat up.

“Um…” Schlatt pretends to think for a moment. “I don’t think so.” He tugs at the hem of your, his, sleep shirt.

“Oh… well I definitely need to do something about that.” You raise your arms above your head and allow him to take the garment off before leaning in once again.

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

night time doodles

Kwazii is like bro I ain't smol no more

Barnacles my actual beloved a hug from him would cure any soul

Also if cats can purr loudly irl I feel like a man sized one would be REALLY LOUD but also wonderful

Anywaya more kwazii and barnacles qpr propaganda

Also In my au they alternate whose room they sleep in

Whenever barnaxles is in kwaziis room he still has to wear his cooling packs under his clothes at night which isn't that comfortable and the bed is kinda small but its ok cux they cozy

Whenever kwazii sleeps in barnacles room he has to wear fcking thermals and use like 7 blankets but otherwise they cozy

Who needs kissing when u guys can literally feel a deep subconscious sense of safety and security in eachothers presence 🥰🥰🥰

I love them 🥺 I need them to wipe eachothers years with their hands and also listen to eachothers heart beats to feel okay again

I need kwazii to quietly hum sea shanties for barnacles and for barnacles to help kwazii brush his hair 🥺 AUGUUHHHHHHHH

Also kwazii is like "oh no me tail 🥺" as a polsr bear lol but holy sht is he so tall now (still nowhere near the captain but still!)

Also shout out to Captain-i- go- to sleep- with- my- shoes-on-Barnacles for enjoying a nice icy swim at 4 am

[machrealgirl]

i have so many thoughts and headcanons about orochimaru's appearance. like how they look like a snake.

first of all, i think it's very much a clan thing, similar to how everybody in kiba's clan has dog-like qualities. which means that, for the first few years of their life, orochimaru was surrounded by people that looked similar to them. and then, suddenly, they weren't. suddenly they were the only person in their village who looked the way they did, which can't have helped their pre-existing problems with being disconnected from other people and unable to relate to any of their peers.

second of all, i can't stop thinking about the actual physiological implications. like, since they have snake-like eyes, do they also see how a snake would? do they also possess the unique sensory system snakes have for picking up infrared radiation? can they create thermal images of their opponents?

one of my favourite commonly agreed upon headcanons is that they're ectothemic to a degree, so they get cold very very easily. they do seem to favor warmer clothing than other characters: they're always wearing long sleeved shirts and multiple layers, even out of their typical otogakure attire (actually the clothing they wear when e.g. meeting with tsunade looks even warmer than their typical outfit, which seems to imply that they prefer thicker fabrics and warmer clothes in their free time). particularly the outfit they wear in their appearances in boruto look very warm and soft (i think it's an uwagi paired with hedangku, but don't take my european word for it lol).

on the fluffier side of things, i do also like to think about orochimaru being so used to dealing with their ectothermic nature by just stacking up on warm clothes and as many blankets as possible that they don't even realize using other people as a source of heat is possible, until someone (tsunade, but that's just my bias) offers to give them their body heat. and the second they make physical contact, they press up as close to the other person as possible, sneaking under their shirt for more warmth.

[running-swimming-living]

These past few days have been wild! We had a bomb cyclone storm with a high wind warning. We saw gusts above 50 mph and conditions typical with a weak hurricane. Trees and power lines were down. The power went out for about half a million people, and we were one of them.

More below

We lost power Tuesday evening. We expected a quick fix and had cheez it’s for dinner thinking it would be over soon. Then we learned a valuable transformer was damaged and the restoration would be much longer.

We still don’t have power. We’ve been eating our dinners from Costco’s food court. The blessing in all of this is that even though our neighborhood sustained heavy outages, the church, McDonald’s and Costco all stayed open.

The nights are the worst. It only got to 56 degrees in our house with no heating when outside it was 44 with a wind chill. I’ve been sleeping with 4 blankets while wearing 5 layers. My bro and mom only needed two blankets. I can’t stand the cold.

We’ve been forgoing showers, laundry and the dishes. We started using paper plates due to the dishwasher not working. I’m running out of clothes.

The real MVP of this event is my thermal underwear. It cuts out the bitter chill from the cold. I was wearing the long sleeve shirt and long pants. The long pants r great because it feels like I’m wearing pajamas in my jeans.

Then on Friday, I did a speech in skagit county to support the upcoming opening of the first clubhouse international clubhouse in that county.

Then I had a stay cation. I booked the hotel two weeks in advance for a killer deal. 153 a night at a four star hotel downtown. I planned it as a fun get away but it suddenly became a necessity. My fam and I used this opportunity to each take a hot shower bc it has been since Tuesday since we had hot water.

It also made me realize we need more emergency preparedness foods than what we have. We have a lot of food that requires hot water like instant noodles and such.

This is a rambling message. I’m grateful for my fam and the community I live in. They had a device charging center at the community center which was lovely.

Now we just wait and see. They originally said power would be back today but it’s looking more like Monday. It went out on Tuesday 😔

[toasttt11]

the girl next store; luke hughes

summary: she always tried not be in love with her best friends little brother but she can’t push away her feelings forever

cynthia jade brown x luke hughes

part one, part two, part three

taglist: @chelawrites @faithsotherhouseofchaos

December 31, 2023

It was almost New Years in New york, it was almost 2024. Cynthia and Luke decided to leave the party earlier that they were at, with most of the devils players and their significant others.

The two both not the biggest party people and really they just wanted to be together alone cuddled up on new years. They both snuck out of the party only letting Jack where they were going.

Luke changed out of his black button up shirt and white pants with a red jacket, and changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a black thermal, he sat down on the bed waiting for Cynthia to come out of her closet.

Cynthia walked out wearing a pair of Luke’s black sweatpants and a red crew neck she also took from Luke. She walked over to her bed holding a hand out for Luke, who quickly grabbed it and let Cynthia pull him up. The two walked over to the couch on the patio and turned the heater on and plopped down next to each other cuddling under the blanket.

Cynthia rested her head on Luke’s chest as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her head.

They could hear the countdown from other people and smiled as the ball dropped and fireworks shot off in many locations.

It was officially 2024.

“Happy new years my love.” Luke soflty spoke as he they pulled away from their first new years kiss, the first of many.

“Happy new years.” Cynthia smiled back nudging her nose to his nose.

January 4, 2024

Cynthia was putting in her earrings getting ready for dinner to see her families as tomorrow was the Devils vs Canucks and was suppose to be the second time the three of the brothers played each other but Jack got hurt in the game then night before so they were not sure he was gonna be playing but of course the Hughes and her family were all in town for the game, going to a dinner before the game to catch up.

“Lu could you help me when you’re done.” Cynthia called out towards the bathroom where Luke was getting ready in the bathroom.

“Yeah one sec!” Luke called back through the door having taken a shower to get ready, he brushed a hand through his freshly dried curls and walking out the bathroom pausing at the doorway swallowing heavily as he started at his girlfriend, the black long sleeve knitted backless dress that went all the way to her ankles, her perfectly curled hair, the red dangly crystal earrings that he got her.

Luke shook his head walking over to her and grabbing her hand and spinning her to him, “You look absolutely beautiful baby.” Luke grinned down at his favorite girl giving her a kiss on the forehead, Her red lips smiled up at him.

“Thank you!” Cynthia smiled looking up at him admiring the all black fit, black dress pants with a black button up that has the top bottom un done, “You look handsome.” Cynthia smiled at the red tint that was on Luke’s cheek and the kiss he gave her on her forehead before turning around and picking up her gold pendent that Luke gave that is engraved on the inside with the L, she handed it to Luke brushing her hair over one shoulder letting Luke gently put it around her neck and clasping it, kissing her neck when he was finished.

Cynthia smiled turning around kissing his cheek before pulling back and giggling slightly seeing her red lip stick transfer to his cheek. Luke looked down at her fondly, “What baby?”

“My lipstick is on your cheek.” Cynthia smiled going to wipe it off when Luke gently grabbed her hand stopping her from doing so.

“Don’t please.” Luke pouted at her liking the thought of her leaving a mark everyone can see.

Cynthia just fondly nodded before turning away and picking up her red heels she headed to the bench at the end of the bed sitting down and before she had a chance to put on her heels Luke kneeled down in front of her gently sliding on her red heels.

Cynthia grabbed his hands when he was done, “Thank you my love.”

“Of course.” Luke smiled getting up and gently pulling her up with him, Cynthia still 5 inches shorter than him even with heels on, he grabbed her hand stopping at the dresser she was getting ready and grabbed Cynthia’s phone and stop them in front of the mirror that is hanging above the dresser, he grabbed his phone from his pocket turning it on seeing the lock screen of a photo of Cynthia smiling at him cuddled up in bed, he opened the camera and pulled Cynthia towards him wrapping his arm against her waist as he hands rested on his chest smiling at the mirror. Luke took the mirror photo smiling before turning his phone off and grabbing Cynthia’s phone and the red lipstick slipping them into his pockets knowing Cynthia had never liked carrying bags.

They headed to the front door where their jackets were hanging, as it snowing outside, Luke helped her put on her red trench coat and he slipped on his black one. They walked hand in hand into the elevators and then down through the apartment building towards the front entrance where the valet was outside and where Jack was meeting them.

Jack looked up at the sound of whistle knowing who it is, He looked up and smiled at the two seeing how much happier they both have seemed since they got approval from him, Jack stood up slid his phone in his all black suit pocket before buttoning his black winter coat just as the two got to him.

“You look beautiful Cece.” Jack smiled kissing his best friends cheek.

“Thanks Jacky.” Cynthia smiled back squeezing his hand.

“What i don’t look good rowdy.” Luke grinned teasing his brother resting his arm on Cynthia’s waist.

“No.” Jack deadpanned smirking at the glare he got from his little brother, before Luke could say anything back as they heard the valet called their name.

The three headed over Luke grabbing the keys from the employee, walking to the car opening the passenger seat for Cynthia and watching her get in before gently shutting it, as Jack slid in the back seat and Luke walked around to the driver seat.

Luke began the drive to the restaurant and listened to Jack and Cynthia gossip the whole drive, they pulled up a few minutes later at the restaurant that their meeting everyone and looked and saw they are few minutes late.

“We’re never gonna hear the end of it because we’re late.” Jack groaned knowing that the three of them especially Jack are always late and their families always tease them.

“Nope.” Cynthia pursed her lips shaking her head.

Luke got out of the car first walking around opening the door for Cynthia seeing the thankful look she gave him and winked in response. They walked up towards the fancier restaurant and headed through the doors were an employee was waiting, The employee looked up at the sound of the door closing, “Name?”

“Hughes.” Jack answered putting his hands in his pockets.

“Right this way.” The employee gestures for them to follow them, Jack followed first with Luke and Cynthia behind him, Luke rested his hand on her lower back as they walked across the restaurant to a private section they could see their family all around a table with three seats open.

“Oh my darlings.” Anna looked up gasping in delight, grinning she got up quickly pulling all three into a group hug, she pulled back cupping her daughter’s face, “Oh Thia you’re glowing my love.” Cynthia smiled kissing her mothers cheeks.

Ellen got up quickly pulling her boys into a tight hug feeling both of them hold her back just as tightly, She cupped both of their cheeks looking at any differences she may have missed the last few weeks.

“Hi dad.” Cynthia grinned feeling as her dad walked over to her pulling her into a tight hug.

“Hello darling.” Christopher kissed the top of her head, holding his daughter a little longer.

Jim held his two sons in a tight hug before moving out of the way letting his two younger sons quickly pull Quinn in a hug, who laughed and tightly hugged his little brothers back.

Ellen walked over to her favorite girl, “My darling girl.” Ellen smiled pulling her into a gently hug.

“Hi mama el.” Cynthia smiled into the hug hugging her second mother.

“Darling you are beautiful.” Ellen smiled holding her face in her hands, never understanding how her favorite girl only gets more and more beautiful as she grows.

“Thank you.” Cynthia felt her cheeks grow hot having always looked up to Ellen and her mother, so compliments from the two of them always felt the most heartwarming.

Jim pulled Cynthia into a gentle hug before Quinn interrupted them.

“Emmie.” Quinn smiled standing behind his favorite sibling, having called her Emmie since they found her birth stone is an emerald and her eyes are green.

Cynthia face lifted into a bigger smile hearing one of her most favorite voices she quickly turned around throwing her self into his arms, relaxing at the protective comfort Quinn has always brought her.

Quinn quietly chuckled holding her close, “I missed you.” Quinn leaned down slightly in the hug whispering.

“I missed you too quinny.” Cynthia tightened her hold on him, having missed him as their weekly face times aren’t nearly enough.

The two pulled apart and saw everyone else finished seeing each other and were sitting back down. On one side of the table were the parents and then Jack sat at the end of one side of the table and Luke on the other end. Cynthia quickly sat in the empty next to Luke flashing him a quick smile feeling his hand reach for hers and Quinn slid into the spot he was already sitting, now sitting between Cynthia and Jack.

Quinn raised a slight brow looking over and seeing Luke and Cynthia quietly whispering to each other while their smiles were both soft and fond towards each other.

“So am i the last one to figure that out.” Jack leaned towards his brother his eyes going to the Cynthia and Luke who were already in their own little world.

Quinn turned his head towards Jack, “You finally figured it out.” Quinn deadpanned getting a sassy eye roll in reply, “Yeah you are it’s been obvious for years.”

“Yeah i’m getting that now.” Jack sassed back, He looked over seeing Luke whisper something in Cynthia’s ear that made pink rush to her cheeks and laugh fall from her lips, Jack didn’t want to know what just came out of his little brothers mouth but he watched the soft and loving look that covered Luke’s face as he watch Cynthia laugh because of him.

Luke rested his hand on her thigh as her hand covered his, Luke and Cynthia shared a look and she nodded towards him and he shook his head with a fond smile.

Luke cleared his throat gaining the attention of the table after they had all eaten dinner already and were ordering dessert, “Jj and I have something to tell all of you.” He looked around the table as Cynthia squeezed his hand.

“We’re dating.” Cynthia blurted out to their families.

Ana and Ellen both gasped excitedly and were beaming happily as they both asked a lot of questions.

Christopher smirked looking at his best friend, Jim groaned slighty but pulled out bills from his wallet putting them into Christopher’s hand.

“Wait wait you bet on us!” Cynthia exclaimed looking shocked at her dad and godfather.

“It was easy money.” Christopher chuckled at his daughter.

“Rude.” Cynthia playfully glared back.

“It’s about time.” Quinn teasingly smirked at the two, before noticing something on Luke’s cheek and his smirk grew, “Hey Moose you’ve got a little something right there.” Quinn gestured to his cheek.

Luke smirked backed and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulder letting his arm drape around Cynthia’s chair, “I know.” Luke proudly had the red lipstick kiss on his cheek.

“I see you finally took my advice.” Ellen teasingly told Cynthia with a fond smile glad the two are finally together.

Ellen was the one Cynthia went to with eveything she felt for Luke and helped her through her feelings.

“It was about time.” Cynthia blushed shrugging slightly, she’s been in love with Luke for a line time and she didn’t want to admit it for a while but she couldn’t run from her feelings any longer.

cynthia.brown posted

liked by lhughes_06, trevorzegras, _quinnhughes and 16,782,728 others

cynthia.brown new year with my love ❤️

comments

trevorzegras I WAS NOT INFORMED ABOUT THIS!!

trevorzegras CYNTHIA BROWN DO NOT IGNORE ME

trevorzegras ANWSER MY TEXTS !

jackhughes i knew :)

trevorzegras you bitch.

_quinnhughes happy you guys are happy!🥺

cynthia.brown aww quinny 🫶🏻🥺

lhughes_06 that’s a cool hat he is wearing

cynthia.brown he certainly thinks so

user56 is luke her bf tho?

use88 @user11 SHE WAS SOFT LAUNCHING!!!!

user11 OH MY GOD

February 16, 2024

Cynthia zipped up her jacket and smiling looking at the reflection, the jacket was a black puffer with Luke’s number over her heart, something that the all the Wag’s have.

Luke and Cynthia had quietly asked one of the Wag’s to get a jacket with Luke’s number so she should could wear to the family skate but also to kinda tell the team that they are together.

Cynthia slipped on her 43 beanie and grabbed her phone and keys.

She walked out of her apartment and took the elevator down the parking garage, she hoped into the car and drove to Jack and Luke’s apartment.

She waited in the car until she heard the front and back door opened, she looked over smiling seeing Ellen in the front seat and Jim in the back, She leaned over kissing Ellen’s cheek and smiled through the mirror at Jim.

“It’s very cute.” Ellen smiled a small teasing smile at her future daughter in law looking at her jacket and beanie.

“Isn’t it!” Cynthia smiled happily, Luke and her have both been excited for her to wear the jacket.

Cynthia drove them to the MetLife stadium and pulled into the parking lot, the three walked through the stadium and towards where the rink was place they could see a lot of the other families and friends there too and the team seemed to just be finishing the practice.

Cynthia, Ellen and Jim found a bench and all started putting on their ice skates and got onto the ice, they saw Jack and Luke taking photos with some of their teammates and skated over to them.

“CeCe!” Jack grinned quickly pulling his best friend into a hug, “Nice jacket.” Jack whispered to her pulling back and smirking at her.

“Hello to you to Jacky.” Cynthia snarked back.

Luke smiled softly seeing her wearing his number he skated around her and wrapped an arm around her waist, he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

“Wait! Did you actually get the girl Rusty?” Dawson teased his teammate seeing Luke and Cynthia be so close and Cynthia wearing the Wag jacket.

“I did.” Luke proudly smiled, he looked down at her with a soft eyes.

“Woah i thought you were going to be pinning after Cynthia for ever.” Alex chuckled having heard one to many times Luke talking about Cynthia.

A photographer came up to take a photo of the Hughes family and Cynthia went to move out of the way and Luke tightened his grip on her waist, Jack held onto her arm, Jim gave her a stern look and Ellen, “Where do you think you are going Cynthia Jade you are family.” Ellen gave her a stern look making her nod and smile but she stayed tucked under Luke’s arm and put her other arm around Jack.

The second the photo was down Jim and Ellen skated away to go talk to one of their friends and Jack skated away seeing his girlfriend.

Cynthia looked up at the boyfriend and couldn’t help but laugh, “Oh Lukey.”

“What?” Luke looked down at her with a silly smile, his hands resting on her waist.

“You look like a Dr Seuss." Cynthia laugher again but reached up and fixed his beanie to look better on his head, "There perfect." She softly caressed his face before letting her hands rest on his arms.

“Thank you baby.” He leaned down pressing a kiss to her cheek before pulling her and starting to skate.

Cynthia leaned into Luke as they started to skate around together, something they have done a million times together before.

[artmolonara]

The Assistant - Short Free Write YFNSM

A late night at the lab, and Vincent knew that the Doctor was at it, working tirelessly on a new device that would satisfy their latest client.

Otto was a visionary, creating technology and inventions like a master would create works of art, near godlike. VIncent was honored to be working along side him; the great Otto Octavius.

It wasn't just research and experiments that Vincent would help the Doctor with, of course. Like any creator working on their passion, Otto would become so absorbed in his work to the point of forgetting he had a mortal body. Vincent recalled a time when Otto had nearly passed out from the strain.

"Now what we'll need to do," He had been explaining some schematics, "Is ensure the diameter of the input valve is not too narrow, as the Gamma energy will be able to pass much easier... through..."

Vincent had looked up from his clipboard to see the Doctor sway, "Sir?" A sudden turn and stumble, "Sir!" Vincent quickly caught and steadied him, hurrying him to a nearby chair.

"Ah... Vincent, please, I'm fine..." Otto had grumbled under his breath, rubbing his temples, sounding not as sure in the statement himself.

A quick scrutiny of the Doctor revealed to Vincent the issue; he hadn't studied to potentially go into the medical field for nothing, "Sir, when's the last time you drank some water?"

He remembered how the Doc had subconsciously wet his chapped lips, before muttering a defensive excuse.

A cool glass of water, properly filtered, got the Doctor back on track.

Such things like that continued to pop up, and now Vincent was extra vigilant of Otto's state of health. And the Doctor was grateful, in his own way.

Speaking of which, nearing early morning hours, Vincent hadn't heard any noise from the main lab for a while now. Finished up his tasks, he headed over there to check.

He peaked in with a quiet, "Sir?", assessing the room and it's contents before looking over at the Doc, marveling at the new machination the brilliant man was bringing to life.

And there he was, slumped over his desk, unmoving.

A slight panic gripped Vincent.

He quickly, quietly, strode into the room, approaching till he stood just a few feet back, paused, watching...

After a moment, Vincent saw the soft rise and fall of the broad chest, his own releasing a sigh. Asleep again.

A bit calmer, he approached the side to see the Doc more clearly, illuminated in the monitor's light.

He rested with his arms crossed upon the table for support, the yellow gloves gripping the lab coat sleeves tightly, head turned to the side in a gentle snore. The glasses that helped the Doctor with his light sensitivity slightly askew on the bridge of his nose, reflecting the game that was currently running on auto upon the computer screen.

Working hard as ever, Vincent couldn't help thinking sarcastically. This game was a dangerous distraction for the Doctor it would seem, and Otto himself knew it.

Ah well.

Vincent left it running, knowing better than to mess with the Doctor's systems.

Instead, he went over to the shelf and retrieved a soft thermal blanket. With measured practice, he draped it over the Doctor's shoulders; a cape fit for a king.

The tension in the man's shoulders subsided with the warmth, and Vincent smiled to himself.

With a bit more time to spare, he quickly left to prepare some tea for him as well, leaving it in a temperature regulating thermos of the Doctor's own design. And with that, he went to punch out.

"See you tomorrow, sir," he said to the still room of the lab, before heading for home to get some rest himself, eager to start a new day of work for the world's greatest genius.

~Fin~

A quick little fic, these characters are super interesting to me rn.

If you like my work, you can support me on Ko-Fi. I also do writing comms.

Buy me a Ko-FI

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Again the anon who asked about something with Alpha!Albedo x Omega!Reader

I just don't know how to specify it since it's my first request, but it could be something about the two of them spending time in dragonspine because Omega!Reader is sensitive to stimuli and prefers to be in dragonspine with Albedo because there is no noise and the smell of your Alpha comforts them? ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ

Took a while but we've got something to work with :D

You'll get better with requesting just don't be afraid to be as detailed as possible on what you'd like to see written when asking in the future.

cw: omegaverse, nsfw

Many think Alpha!Albedo spends most of his time on Dragonspine perfectly content to do his research in the peace and quiet of the snowy mountain by his lonesome but he's not alone. His omega joins him on his trips up the mountain and actually enjoys it there.

When he asked why they preferred to spend time on the mountain rather than in the city with Klee and the others they explained to him that the city was overstimulating with all it's noise and scents. He understood that as he also gets easily overstimulated by the city so he does his best to make their time on the mountain as comfortable as possible.

Since his omega stays with him so often up on Dragonspine he packs extra supplies so they can stay longer even if they bring their own. He's invested in some thermal bedding and blankets that he stores away in case his omega desires to nest while they're up there.

Although his scent is light for an alpha they enjoy his scent quite a lot so he tries to find ways to either increase the amount of scent he releases through alchemy or by simply spending more time scenting items they wear often like scarves.

Doesn't mind spending their heats up there on the mountain either though he must do even more preparation in that case since they'll be isolated from any reliable sources of food and warmth. Prepares warming elixirs to help them keep warm and makes sure to prepare tons of firewood to keep the cave warm for the both of them.

While he doesn't care for his ruts he's more than willing to help out his omega with whatever he can during their heat. Prefers to use his fingers and mouth to bring them pleasure before using a knotting toy on them. It's not that he doesn't want to knot them himself it's more he's more worried about making sure they're well taken care of as they aren't in the safest location.

[flwerswrld]

Girlie, make dating headcannons pt 2 Including Sunday, Gambling Peacock, Yanqing's father and Broody Criminal!! Stay hydrated and take as many days as you need.

yesyes ofc!! 😻😻 (idk who broody criminal is but i think it's blade so i'm gna do blade!)

hsr relationship headcannons ୨୧ (pt. 2!!)

cw: lowercase intended (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠), fluff fluff fluffy fluff 🧘🏽‍♀️, established relationship for all, cutesy nicknames used, gender neutral!reader, betting/gambling(??), mentions of trauma, aventurine's has a hint of angst, mentions of marriage, husband!jing yuan, yanqing is basically u and jing yaun's son, mentions of mimi (jing yuan's lion), like... 1 mention of fu xuan and yukong, sleepy jing yuan as always :3, stellaron hunter!reader (blade's ofc), blade is being broody as always, the grumpy x sunshine shines thru w/ blade and reader

characters included: sunday, aventurine, jing yuan, blade

sunday ♡

- he's kind of... possessive??

- not in the yandere way, but in a way where his feelings to protect you kind of get a bit much sometimes

- like how he is with robin but in a different way bc he's your boyfie !!

- but he obviously very much loves you and would go out of his way to protect you, even if he had to sacrifice his life for u ^.^ so romantic

- he also spoils u ^_^ always making sure that ur comfortable ☺️☺️

- u want that new pair of shoes? oh, don't worry, he's already ordered it and it'll be coming to your house soon.

- u want that new skirt? he's whipping out his card SO FAST.

"it's not even that cold, sunday!"

sunday could smell your bullshit from a mile away, and all he could let out was a sigh. "y/n, you're being quite..." he trails off, trying to find a word to describe you in this moment.

giving up on that endeavor, he huffs, his wings' feathers ruffling from his slight irritation. "you're really going to be wearing a miniskirt in winter? it's snowing, and it's -20 degrees out." (a/n: that's -4°F for any american readers (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠))

you raise an eyebrow, making eye contact with your boyfriend through the mirror you were using to do your makeup. "some days, skirts need to be the size of a belt." you reply, applying mascara to your eyelashes. "life's too short not to take risks, sunday." with your mascara all applied, you move to applying some vaseline, then your lipgloss on top.

"what if you get sick?" your boyfriend asks, looking in the mirror to make sure his already perfectly ironed clothes had any wrinkles, or if his already shining halo had any dust on it. "you can get sick, even in the dreamscape."

"they'll be fine, brother." robin adds as she sits on the couch, trying to find something to watch as she snuggles up in a blanket. "but y/n, if you get cold, come right back home. don't want you to get sick, we have to record that collaboration album."

feeling like you're being mother hen'd a little bit too much, you sigh. "i'll be fine, robin. but i bet you 10,000 credits i won't get sick! i'm even wearing those thermal tights you got me underneath so my legs won't get cold."

your boyfriend and his sister smirk. "bring it on."

"ah fuck, my manager's gonna hate me... sorry, angela." you grumble under your breath, another coughing fit viscously assaulting your lungs with surprisingly harsh vigour.

grabbing your phone from your nightstand, you send your boyfriend 10,000 credits, as the bet was stated. not that he wasn't rich enough, this was just pocket change to him.

"y/n!"

you visibly light up seeing robin in the doorway of you and sunday's room, a bowl of piping hot soup in one hand, a cup of hot cocoa in the other. "hey, robin. is that soup?" the halovian nods, a smile on her face. "yes! sunday made the soup for you."

"sister, i told you i was going to bring to the soup to them, why did you-"

"you snooze, you lose, brother!" the singer exclaims, giving you your hot cocoa and placing the bowl of soup on the nightstand.

sunday came inside your room, mask and gloves on. you giggle at the sight, and that leads into a bit of a coughing fit. "sunday, honey... did you have to wear gloves?"

your boyfriend scoffs. "i'm not trying to catch a cold from you." he replies, but he slips his mask down a little to press his lips against your burning forehead in a soft kiss. "you get better, okay?"

chuckling, you wave him off. "i will, i will! love you~"

sunday leaves the room, mumbling something in reply.

"love you too, dove."

aventurine ♡

- literally the worst (best) boyfriend u could ever have

- and he bever really knew what love felt like because of all the suffering and trauma he went through

- but now that he has you, his beloved partner, he knows what it's like to be loved. and now he can give it back to you so it's just a beautiful cycle of love and happiness!! (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ)

- much like sunday, always spoils u

- but with aven it's 100, if not 100000 times more (he feels like the gifts make up for how busy his schedule is with the ipc)

"'m sorry doll." your boyfriend tiredly mumbles, pressing a sleepy kiss to your neck as soon as you came to greet him at the door. "here, take this, angel. got you a lil' something."

aeons, he's so happy he's home. home to his pretty little partner who he loves to spoil.

when you open the velvety box he slipped into your hands, you see a beautiful necklace. thin gold chain with a shimmering emerald as its centerpiece. "aventurine, you really didn't have to-"

"think of it as an apology for me being so busy. you know how the ipc gets, making me run all around penacony."

you raise an eyebrow, sighing. "aven, i think i have the perfect way to get you to relax."

— — —

"ohhhh that feels good..." the blonde moans in relaxation, the feeling of your fingers scrubbing gently at his scalp making him wanna just melt into the hot water and disintegrate. "feels so good, y/n, you have absolutely no idea."

he's starting to understand why dr. ratio loves his baths so much.

"i'm just trying to make you feel better after that buisness trip, aventurine. i know it took a toll on you." you reply, rinsing his hair free of the shampoo. "okay, close your eyes and mouth, gonna rinse.

the gambler complies with your gentle command, his eyes and mouth shutting as you were rinsing his tresses, his hair shining like liquid gold in the fluorescent lighting of your bathroom — hm, fitting. you think to yourself.

as you get ready for bed, aventurine hugs you from behind as you're doing your skincare routine. "call me kakavasha from now on." he whispers into your ear.

you're surprised. floored, even. you knew about aventurine's past, knew what name the weight carries with him. aventurine, one of the ten stonehearts of the ipc, who always shone as bright as a diamond and who captured attention like how a peacock would get when he ruffled his feathers.

well, kakavasha to you, aventurine to the rest of the cosmos.

"are-" you pause, looking into his borderline hypnotizing eyes for a second or two for his assurance. "are you sure, aven? i don't want to trigger anything."

he presses a fleeting kiss to your temple. "i'm sure, babe. and plus, i'm gonna have to get used to you calling me kakavasha before we get married!"

and before you can respond, he's gone, slinking away to your shared bedroom, in his stupidly soft silk pyjamas. slick bastard.

"okay, kakavasha." you call back out, fond smile on your face.

jing yuan ♡

- he, like aventurine, is quite busy due to his job, but he also has a lot of other priorities

- training yanqing, taking care of mimi, etc. (even though taking care of mimi is a shared effort between you and your man, you love that lion.)

- but he doesn't travel as much as aventurine, so he gets to spend more time with you, thank goodness ^_^

- but yanqing might as well become you and jing yuan's fully adopted child.

"jing yuan, i thought we'd give him the set of swords for his birthday!"

"my love, he deserved it earlier for helping me defeat all those mara struck soldiers. isn't that right, yanqing?"

yanqing, who was half asleep while watching his parents the general and his spouse argue, immediately straightened up, nodding his head. "y-yes, general!" he exclaims, like it was on instinct.

and you can't help but let out a laugh, patting yanqing on his back. "it's okay, yanqing, go back to sleep."

the retainer yawns, all groggy. "okay..."

he reminds me of mimi... you think to yourself, a picture of the lion yawning playing in your mind.

feeling eyes watching you in the back of your head, you turn around to see your husband, jing yuan, watching you with his signature ':3' smirk.

"honey, what are you plotting?" you ask, shrugging off your jacket to place over yanqing as he sleeps.

a low chuckle resounds around the room, the sound playful. "nothing, dearest. now, come nap with me. i've missed you."

you roll your eyes, yet you end up in his arms anyways. "so we're only going to give yanqing those new clothes for his birthday?"

no response.

"jing yuan?"

again, no response. then, a thump that lands on your shoulder.

a sigh escapes you, and you lean to pat your now half asleep husband's head. "you're supposed to meet with fu xuan in 15 minutes..."

"get yukong to go in my place." your husband mumbles back, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling you into his lap. "sleep, my love."

blade ♡

- he may not say it a lot, but he does love you

- he's an 'actions speak louder than words' type of guy

- but not a lot of physical affection either, he doesn't want to suddenly go mara struck and hurt you, he thinks he's going to taint you

- so fleeting touches shall do

- he'll also do things to make your day more convenient

- if you're tired from a mission, he'll make you some tea

- or if you've been overworking yourself, he'll take on your mission in your place

- the other stellaron hunters tease you (except for firefly she's the sweetest)

- ESPECIALLY kafka. this woman takes so much pleasure in teasing you two.

"oh~? seems like you've gone soft, bladie."

blade's eye twitches, and he stiffens underneath her touch as she bandages him up. "just hurry up and bandage me, kafka. it has to be done before y/n sees, they'll have a heart attack if they see me like this."

beneath his indifferent, cold facade, blade cared about you. and kafka knew that.

"okay, okay... them, firefly, and silver wolf are on their way... the script says they should be coming in—"

"we're back!"

you step in with a smile on your face, bags in your hands.

blade sits there as you scold him, letting out a sigh. "i always get hurt on missions, what's new? i only have more scars to add to my growing collection."

but that smile disappears when you see blade's state. bandages all over his torso and arms, blood seeping through them.

— — —

"i know you have your healing abilities, but putting yourself in harm's way like that? seriously, blade?!"

your boyfriend looks at you with a glare, crossing his arms over his chest stoically. "i get hurt every mission, what's new? the only thing i gain is more scars to the already growing collection."

nor surprised by his lack of care to his own health, you sigh. "blade, just... just let me take care of you..." cupping his cheek with your hand, you kiss his lips.

and blade would rather die than admit it, but when you pressed your soft lips against his chapped ones, he felt fireworks in his belly that weren't welcomed.

"tch, whatever..."