#focusing on the task at hand when it's absolutely necessary

[godsfavdarling]

watching him

part of him (one-shot series), my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader summary: You help Spencer wash his curls properly. words: 1,2k warnings: most self indulgent fluff you have ever read, nudity/bathing together, maybe a bit suggestive but still sfw, no y/n a/n: I was in the shower and famously I have the same hair type and color as mgg and we would absolutely share our routine.

Spencer's head tilted toward you, giving you better access to his tangled brown strands. 

Your fingers, maybe a bit too roughly, moved through his scalp, detangling with a kind of focused care you hadn’t realized you were capable of.

You sat facing each other in the cramped bathroom, your legs tucked on either side of his while his stretched out around you, creating a tight but strangely comfortable space between you.

You couldn't help but watch him intently. 

With his eyes closed, unaware of your gaze, he looked almost ethereal—peaceful in a way you rarely got to see. 

His wet curls framed his face, softening his features, and the dim light of the bathroom made him look even more serene. 

There was something mesmerizing about watching him like this, when he couldn't catch you staring, when he couldn't see the way you studied every detail.

He looked so pretty, so effortlessly beautiful, that you let yourself indulge, longer than you should, in the quiet act of watching him.

“This smells nice,” he murmured, his eyes squeezed shut to shield them from your movements and the severe foam you created. His voice was soft, almost drowsy. 

He didn’t say anything more, but you caught the faintest hint of pleasure in his tone. 

Maybe he enjoyed this. Maybe he liked having his hair tugged. You made a mental note of that.

“I don’t really like this one much,” you admitted, scrunching your nose at the scent as you continued working the product through his hair.

“Really?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly. His eyes remained closed, but the slight upward tilt of his head suggested curiosity.

“Yeah. It’s too intense. I liked it at first, but now it’s overwhelming.”

“I still like it. It smells like you,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

Not water related heat rushed through your body. 

You suddenly became hyper-aware of how close you were. 

You resumed your careful work on his curls, trying to focus, but it wasn’t easy.

You never thought you’d enjoy this so much. You hated washing your own hair, but washing his? It felt like a sweet dessert, a perfect indulgence after the cozy dinner you’d shared on the couch.

Your thighs kept brushing against his in the tight confines of the tub, sending a slow, torturous fever through your veins.

As if that weren’t enough, his hands found your knees at some point, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin. 

He wasn’t making your task any easier.

You fought to keep your breath steady, your heart from racing out of control. You tried to play it cool, as if having him this close, this intimate, wasn’t driving you to the edge.

Is this what it felt like? 

Is this how you know the bond with him is real? Maybe it wasn't an accident after all. 

You've felt like you dreamed Spencer into existence, like he stepped out of the picture you'd been painting in your mind since childhood. 

You felt like you dreamed him up .

And one day, there he was—alive, right in front of you, as if he'd always been meant to be.

And now you were squeezed together in your tiny bathtub on a Friday night, showing him how to take care of his curls. 

“Okay, I’m going to rinse out the shampoo now. Don’t open your eyes,” you warned.

“They’re still closed,” he assured, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

You carefully worked the water through his hair, rinsing away the foam while your fingers combed through his curls. You realized you might’ve been a little rougher than necessary. You gently squeezed the excess water from his hair.

“You have to get rid of the water like this,” you explained, gathering his hair and squeezing it upward in small sections. “Don’t straighten it out, just squeeze it up. Does that make sense?”

“I get it,” he said, his voice laced with quiet trust.

“You could do more complicated stuff, but your hair’s pretty gentle, so I think just shampoo and conditioner for curly hair will do the trick. Just... don’t brush it when it’s dry, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated, nodding slightly.

“You only brush it when it’s really, really wet. Now for the conditioner.” You took the bottle and squeezed out what you deemed the right amount, showing it to him. “This should be enough.”

He nodded again, his head still hanging, eyes shut as the water ran over him. You carefully worked the conditioner into his hair. 

“You can brush through it if you need to, but don’t put any on your scalp. This one doesn’t need time to soak in, so we can rinse it right away.”

You gently massaged the conditioner through his curls before turning on the water again, running your fingers through his hair to ensure all the product was rinsed out.

You turned the water off and squeezed the excess water from his hair one last time.

Gently, you lifted his head, tugging it upward, and carefully pushed his damp curls away from his pretty face. 

As you brushed the hair from his forehead, his eyes blinked open, still sensitive to the bright bathroom light. 

His lashes were damp, and he rubbed at his eyes, finally releasing his hold on your knees. 

For a moment, you both just looked at each other.

There you were.

Both naked.

Taking care of each other.

What kind of dream was this?

Before you got to dwell on your life more Spencer broke the silence. 

“Now, my turn,” he said, his voice still soft but now filled with a teasing certainty.

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

“I’m going to wash your hair,” he clarified, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

There was even more warmth in his eyes than usual and a quiet determination you weren’t sure you could say no to.

“Spence, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” he said, already shifting in the tub to give himself a bit more space, motioning for you to turn around. “But I want to.”

You hesitated for a moment, the idea of letting him touch you in such a way—this close, this tender—sending a flutter of nervous excitement through your chest. 

“Okay,” you murmured as you turned around. 

You weren’t sure how much longer you could handle facing him now that his eyes were open.

You couldn’t take the way he looked at you. It felt too soft and too loving sometimes.

What did you do to deserve this? To deserve him?

For the sake of your own sanity, you shifted your focus to counting the tiles, letting the numbers steady your racing thoughts of him.

So close. So visible in the bathroom lighting.

His hands found their way to your shoulders first, steady and reassuring, before sliding up to your head. 

His fingers, surprisingly deft, massaged your scalp with slow, deliberate movements, while his other hand held the showerhead, gently wetting your hair. 

You hadn’t anticipated how good it would feel, how effortlessly the tension in your body would melt away under his careful touch.

“I’ll be gentle,” he murmured, his voice close to your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

You closed your eyes, surrendering to him. Letting him watch you.

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"!

Masterlist: Here

It had been three days since you’d found yourself in Rafe’s house, a place that now felt more like a cage than a refuge. You hadn’t had much time to adjust to the new reality. Between the funeral, the endless meetings with lawyers and child services, and the sudden responsibility of Willa, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of exhaustion.

You had told yourself you’d stay at the house more often, that you’d help Rafe get into a routine with Willa, but the sheer weight of everything had left you in a constant state of uncertainty. It wasn’t just that you were suddenly her guardian, it was that you were also navigating a delicate, complicated dynamic with Rafe. Every time you thought you had a handle on things, another obstacle seemed to rise up in front of you.

But life didn’t stop, and the bills still needed to be paid. So, you found yourself at the local café by 7 a.m. every morning, working the early shift as if it were a lifeline to some semblance of normalcy. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries helped ground you, a comfort amidst the chaos.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

That morning, you found yourself staring blankly at the coffee machine, lost in thought as you tried to get a fresh batch brewing. Willa’s laugh echoed in your mind, that small, joyful sound she’d made when you’d managed to make her smile that morning at Rafe’s house. But then there was Rafe—his disheveled hair, his barely-contained frustration as he tried to make breakfast, as if he were a stranger in his own life.

You shook the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. You couldn’t afford distractions right now.

"Hey, [Y/N], you okay?" Jess, your co-worker, asked as she slid into the back room, eyeing you with concern. Jess had been your friend since you started working at the café, and while she wasn’t a mind reader, she could always tell when something was off.

You nodded quickly, putting a smile on your face. "Yeah, just a little tired. You know how it is."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. "Well, the morning rush is about to hit, and we’re already behind, so I’ll let you catch up. Just take it easy when you can, alright?"

You offered a grateful smile, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. Jess had a way of reading you, and the last thing you wanted was to let her know the extent of what you were juggling.

The morning rush came and went, the familiar frenzy of orders, refills, and people coming and going. By noon, the crowd thinned, and you finally got a break. You slipped into the back room, sitting on one of the crates as you checked your phone, hoping for a distraction.

You had a few missed texts, mostly from Sarah’s family offering condolences, a few work-related messages, and then... one from Rafe.

Can you come over tonight? Willa’s been fussy all day. I can’t figure out what she wants.

You stared at the message for a moment, your thumb hovering over the screen. You’d been trying to keep your distance from Rafe, only coming over when absolutely necessary, and still, he was asking for help. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with his emotions, but there was something about the way he’d written this message that gave you pause.

You knew it wasn’t just about Willa—it never had been. There was still tension between you and Rafe, an unspoken rift that neither of you had quite figured out how to cross. Yet, here he was, reaching out.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You’d been trying to balance it all—work, helping Rafe, and processing the grief that seemed to be dragging you under—but it wasn’t easy. You needed to be there for Willa, but you also needed to keep your job, and your sanity.

After a moment of contemplation, you typed out a reply. I’ll be there around six. I can stay for a few hours.

You didn’t know what you expected, but you sure as hell didn’t expect the quick response. 

Thanks. I’ll make dinner. She’s been restless.

You felt a strange knot form in your stomach at the offer. Dinner? From Rafe Cameron? A part of you wanted to laugh, but another part—an irrational, confusing part—wondered if this was his way of trying to do something right, for once.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur. You tried to focus on the coffee orders and the chatter of the customers, but all you could think about was Rafe and the odd, fragile dynamic that had begun to take root.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

By the time you pulled into Rafe’s driveway later that evening, you could feel the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. But Willa needed you, and whether or not you wanted to admit it, Rafe did, too.

You took a deep breath before getting out of your car, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever awaited inside.

The house looked even bigger at night, the lights from the interior casting long shadows across the front yard. As you walked up the stone path, you noticed the faint scent of something cooking—garlic, herbs... something surprisingly warm and inviting.

When you stepped inside, the familiar coldness of the house hit you, but this time, there was something different. The warmth of a home-cooked meal filled the air, and for the briefest moment, it almost felt like things could be normal again.

Rafe was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up as he stood over the stove. He looked up when you entered, a slight tension in his posture as if he was still waiting for you to call him out on some unseen mistake.

“Hey,” you said quietly, watching him carefully. “Dinner smells good.”

He nodded, but didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing fancy. Just pasta, I—uh, thought it might help if she had something warm.” His voice faltered, just a little, but he quickly recovered.

You glanced over at Willa, who was in her high chair, her small hands gripping the edge of the tray as she watched Rafe. She looked so small in the expansive room, and the sight hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You walked over to her, gently picking her up from the chair. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Rafe turned away from the stove, his hands gripping the counter as he stared down at the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing. She won’t stop crying, and I... I don’t get it."

You felt a pang of sympathy, despite everything. You moved toward him, your voice soft. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine. It’s all new for both of us. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

Rafe looked up at you, his expression tense but vulnerable. "Yeah. I guess I just... I want to do right by her. I don’t want to screw this up."

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The sound of Willa’s cries echoed through the vast kitchen, filling the space with a noise that felt almost too loud for the house. She was tiny, yet her cries were fierce, relentless. It had been over an hour, and you were beginning to feel like you were running out of options. You had tried everything.

You’d fed her, changed her, rocked her. But no matter what you did, she wouldn’t stop. Willa’s little fists clenched and her body writhed in your arms, the tears never slowing, never quieting.

“Come on, Willa,” you muttered, trying to soothe her with the kind of gentle rocking you’d seen Sarah do a million times. But nothing worked. You glanced over at Rafe, who was standing across the kitchen with his arms crossed, looking both helpless and frustrated.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Why the hell won’t she stop?”

You didn’t have an answer. Honestly, you didn’t know why she was crying, either. She had been fine all afternoon, playing with her toys, laughing when you made funny faces at her. But now, she was inconsolable, and it was starting to tear at your patience—and Rafe’s too.

You rocked Willa more gently, trying to keep calm. "I don’t know," you said softly, your voice low and soothing. “Maybe it’s... something else. She could be tired, or maybe she’s just upset. Babies have their moods.” You spoke from experience, but your words felt thin in the moment. You hadn’t expected to be thrown into this role, and you were starting to feel every bit of the weight of it.

Rafe glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “Do you think she’s sick?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You shook your head. "I don't think so... I mean, she doesn’t have a fever. Maybe it's just... a bad moment." You were doing your best to sound confident, but even you didn’t believe the words you were saying.

Willa’s cries intensified, her tiny body wriggling in your arms, making it even harder to calm her. Your chest tightened with frustration, helplessness. It was hard enough to balance everything with the weight of the situation, but right now? You felt completely out of your depth.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You looked over at Rafe, who hadn’t moved an inch since you started holding Willa. His face was tight, his eyes narrowed in frustration, but there was something else there, too—something you hadn’t expected: vulnerability.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. After a few more seconds of Willa’s crying, he finally broke the silence.

“Maybe I could try,” he offered, his voice a bit softer, tentative.

You were surprised at the offer. You’d never seen Rafe with kids—never even imagined him with a child this young. But there was something in the way he said it, a quiet desperation, that made you nod.

“Yeah. Try.” You handed Willa to him, careful not to jostle her too much as she continued to wail. She was still kicking her legs, her face scrunched up in distress.

Rafe hesitated for just a second before adjusting her in his arms, awkwardly holding her against his chest. His expression was uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with this tiny person who was now his responsibility.

“Hey, Willa,” Rafe said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We got you.”

He bounced her lightly, just enough to make her feel the rhythm of his movements. For a moment, nothing changed. Willa’s cries didn’t soften, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind. His focus was entirely on her, like he was determined to make it work.

You watched him for a moment, trying not to show your surprise. You didn’t think you’d ever see Rafe in this light. The way he moved, the way he spoke to Willa—there was something different in his tone, something real.

But the crying didn’t stop. Willa’s cries just seemed to escalate, as though she was testing him, testing you both.

Rafe gritted his teeth, adjusting his hold on her again, more firmly this time. “Alright, little one,” he muttered under his breath, his voice still trying to stay calm despite the rising frustration. "We’re gonna get this right. I swear."

He then shifted, trying a different approach, gently patting her back. He’d seen Sarah do it before, you knew, but it still felt foreign coming from him.

You, not sure what else to do, knelt beside him, trying to be as calm and soothing as possible. You placed a hand gently on Willa’s leg. “Shh… Willa, sweetie, it’s okay,” you cooed, matching Rafe’s rhythm.

And then, something unexpected happened. Slowly, gradually, Willa’s cries began to soften. Her body stopped wriggling as much, her little fists loosened. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t magic, but her wails started to turn into quiet sobs, then sniffling, then, finally, she rested her head against Rafe’s chest.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

"See?" you said softly, your heart still racing. "I told you it was just a moment."

Rafe, his face still a bit tense but now with a faint trace of relief, looked down at Willa. Her eyelids fluttered as she finally, finally, drifted off to sleep.

“I don’t get it,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I tried everything, but... she calms down when you do that. When we’re both here.”

You shrugged, feeling the exhaustion in your own body. “Sometimes... it just takes both of us. Babies are unpredictable.” You didn’t know what else to say, because, truth be told, you didn’t really understand it either. But you knew one thing for sure—despite your differences, despite the chaos, this was something you could do together.

Rafe shifted his weight, still holding Willa carefully. “Thanks,” he said quietly, as if he hadn’t just gone through a whirlwind of frustration. It was brief, but there was sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t think... I mean, I wasn’t sure I could handle this.”

You glanced up at him, and for the first time in a long time, you saw something different in his eyes—something that wasn’t defiance or anger, but something closer to gratitude.

“You’re not alone in this,” you said softly. “We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The house had fallen into a strange stillness after Willa finally settled into bed, her little form bundled up in the crib, tucked in for the night. The hours of chaos, the endless crying, the uncertainty—it had all melted into a tense kind of quiet that felt almost too heavy to breathe through. You and Rafe were both exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the weight of the situation hadn’t lightened one bit.

You leaned against the counter in the kitchen, your fingers wrapped around a mug of warm tea, trying to find some semblance of calm. The silence was comforting in a way, but also suffocating. You and Rafe hadn’t exchanged many words since Willa had fallen asleep. There had been a brief moment where you’d both sat at the kitchen table, exhausted, sipping coffee in silence, but now it felt like the quiet was pressing in from all sides.

Rafe was standing by the window, his arms crossed, looking out into the darkened yard. He had been quiet for a while, but you could feel his presence like a weight in the room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"You know," he began, his voice low but firm. "I’ve been thinking. Maybe it would be better if you just moved in here."

You froze, your fingers tightening around the mug in your hands. "What?" You turned to face him, the surprise evident in your voice. "What are you talking about? Why would I—"

He cut you off, not giving you a chance to react. "Look, we’re both her guardians now, right? I get it—you have your life, your job, but you can’t keep going back and forth between here and the café. Willa needs us both, and we both need to be there for her."

You blinked, trying to process his words. "That’s... a huge thing to suggest, Rafe." You shook your head, stepping away from the counter, moving to the other side of the room. "You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t have a life outside of this? I’ve got my job, my own responsibilities. I can’t just—move in here."

He turned, his gaze sharp as he watched you. "I’m not saying it would be permanent, but Willa... she’s not going to be okay if we’re both stressed out all the time. You’re already running yourself ragged. This way, you wouldn’t have to go back and forth. You could be here when she needs you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about missing shifts or running out of time."

You felt your pulse quicken, frustration creeping in. "You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about time. This is my life, Rafe. I’m not just going to—what?—move in with you? Because that’s what you think is best?"

Rafe’s face hardened. "It’s not about what I think is best, [Y/N]. It’s about what Willa needs. You think it’s easy for me, either? I didn’t sign up for this. But here we are, and we both have to step up. We both have to make sacrifices."

Your breath hitched, your voice shaking with the weight of it all. "You think I haven’t thought about that? But this isn’t just about ‘stepping up,’ Rafe. This is about our lives. You can’t just dictate how things are going to work because you suddenly want to play house. I’m not some—"

"Not some what?" he snapped, cutting you off, his jaw tightening as his temper flared. "You think I’m asking for you to live with me because it’s some great idea? I’m trying to help you. You can’t keep doing this alone, and neither can I."

You felt a sting of anger rise in your chest, the frustration of everything spilling out. "I don’t need you to help me, Rafe. I don’t need you to fix everything. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this!"

There was a long, painful silence that hung between you both, a tension that had been building ever since that damn phone call, and now, it seemed like it might tear everything apart.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly as the heat of his anger cooled into something more complicated, more raw. "I’m not trying to fix everything," he muttered, his voice quieter now, laced with frustration. "I’m just trying to do the right thing. I didn’t ask for any of this, either, but I can’t keep pretending it’s just going to work if we’re both barely holding on. You need help. I need help."

Your heart ached at the words, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. But you pushed it aside, unwilling to let the floodgates open.

"I don’t need you, Rafe," you repeated, more firmly now. "I need to figure out how to do this on my own. We’re both her guardians, but I’m not going to make this—whatever this is—worse by complicating it. I can’t just move in here and pretend like that makes everything better."

His face tightened, the walls going back up, the Rafe you knew slipping behind his defenses. "Fine," he said, his voice flat. "Then keep living your life. Keep juggling it all, and see how far that gets you."

You shook your head, your words coming out in a rush. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t care? I care, Rafe. But this isn’t just about what’s easiest for you, or me, or anyone else. It’s about Willa. And right now, she needs more than just two people fighting over what’s best for her. She needs stability. She needs peace."

Rafe was silent for a long moment, the tension still thick in the room. His eyes flickered to the hallway where Willa’s room was, the soft rise and fall of her tiny chest visible through the crack of the door. His face softened for just a fraction of a second, but then he steeled himself again.

"Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now, though there was still a trace of frustration. "She needs peace. And maybe you’re right. Maybe this isn’t the right call." He turned his back to you, his body tense as if he was still holding onto something you couldn’t see.

You felt your anger begin to ebb, replaced by a quiet weariness that settled deep in your chest. You wanted to argue more, to fight for your space, for your independence. But the truth was, Rafe’s idea, crazy as it seemed, did make some sense. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree.

You stayed silent, the space between you growing more and more uncomfortable, until Rafe finally broke the stillness.

"I guess we’ll just have to figure it out, huh?" he said, his voice distant.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you were agreeing with him—or just acknowledging the mess you’d both gotten into.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I guess so."

And for the first time in a long time, the silence between you both wasn’t just filled with tension. It was filled with uncertainty.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

It had been weeks since the argument, weeks since you and Rafe had first clashed over what was best for Willa, what was best for the two of you. You’d spent those weeks bouncing between your place, Rafe’s, and the café, and with each passing day, it was becoming more and more clear that you couldn’t keep it up. You were running on fumes, your mind spinning with the constant demands of work, the responsibilities of being Willa’s guardian, and the weight of your personal life crumbling under the strain.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

It was a quiet morning when you finally made the decision. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, golden glow across the living room of your small house. You hadn’t been home in days, had barely slept in your own bed. Willa was still adjusting to the routine, and the nights at Rafe’s were becoming more frequent. The constant back and forth was wearing you down.

You stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the coffee mug in your hand, the warmth barely reaching you. It was still early, and the sound of Rafe’s truck hadn’t yet filtered through the house. But today, you had to make it right.

You had to admit you couldn’t juggle it all.

The idea of moving in had been haunting you for days, but admitting it was another thing entirely. Rafe’s offer wasn’t just about practicality—it was about more than that. About Willa, about what you and Rafe were going to have to become for her. You’d been resisting it, pushing it away because it felt like giving up control of your life. But you knew you couldn’t keep going on this way.

And so, you made your decision.

When Rafe finally walked through the front door a few hours later, his presence filled the space like it always did—big, heavy, almost too much to ignore. He didn’t say anything at first, just kicked off his boots and moved to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before leaning against the counter, his gaze flickering over to you.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but not unkind.

You set your mug down, taking a deep breath before you spoke. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, your voice steady but with an undercurrent of hesitation. “And I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep bouncing between my place, yours, and work. It’s... it’s too much.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly. “So what does that mean?”

You met his gaze, the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on you. “I’m going to move in. I can’t juggle all of this alone. But there are some conditions.”

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly in curiosity. “Conditions?” he echoed, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “Like what?”

You took a breath and laid it out, clear and firm. “First, I’m not giving up my job at the café. I need that. I need a space where I can breathe and do something for myself. I’m going to be there on my shifts, but I won’t be running myself into the ground. So, we need to find a rhythm that works. I can’t just be at home all day, every day. I have my own life, too.”

Rafe nodded slowly, processing the first part. “Okay. Makes sense.” He crossed his arms, waiting for the rest.

“Second,” you continued, your voice unwavering. “I’m not going to just be a ‘housewife’ or whatever. I need to be treated as an equal, I’m her legal guardian too, not some babysitter. I’ll help with Willa, but I can’t take on the full load. If we’re doing this, we’re both sharing it.”

Rafe didn’t argue with that. He gave a slight nod, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were preparing for the next condition.

“And third,” you added, stepping forward, your gaze never leaving his. “We set some boundaries. This is for Willa. We’re doing this for her, but I’m not moving in here for any other reason. We need to keep things professional—for her sake. I’m not moving in here just to... make things weird.” You paused, feeling the tension rise between you. “If we’re doing this, it’s for Willa. Nothing more, nothing less.”

There was a long silence between you two as Rafe absorbed your words. He was silent for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, a sound of reluctant agreement. “Fair enough,” he said. “I can deal with that. We both need to be in this equally. No one person doing more than the other.” He glanced over at you, a little more seriously now. “And about the boundaries... I’m not trying to make this any more complicated than it has to be. I get it. You’re here to help with Willa, and I’m not going to make that weird.”

It was strange, the way things were shifting between you both. There was a subtle shift in his tone, something closer to understanding. As much as Rafe might have wanted to fight you on it, you knew he respected the fact that you were being clear about your limits.

“So, what now?” he asked, breaking the silence. “You move in today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But, you’ll have to help me get my stuff together. I’m not just leaving everything behind, Rafe.” You allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Rafe smirked, the tension breaking between you two for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll help. Just don’t expect me to pack your clothes.”

You laughed quietly, feeling the weight on your chest lift just a little. “I don’t need you to pack my clothes. I just need you to be... not a pain in the ass while I get settled in.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “No promises there.”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. It was a step in the right direction, you told yourself. A step toward figuring out how to make this new life work.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe it would take time, patience, and more compromises than you had ever imagined. But one thing was clear: you couldn’t do this on your own. And maybe, just maybe, with Rafe by your side, you could figure out what it meant to be a family, even if it wasn’t the family you’d ever expected.

With a deep breath, you took the first step.

"Alright," you said. "Let’s go get my stuff."

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[benjinotes]

𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 (𝐩𝐭.𝟐) - benjicot blackwood (fancast)

summary: a few months after you and Benjicot start dating, your mom invites him to a family dinner.

pairing: benjicot blackwood x fem reader

warnings: whipped benji, over protective dad and older brother, sweet rhaenyra, modern au, smut, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, heavy make out, rough sex (?), sweet but not innocent reader […]

n/a: reader is rhaenyra and harwin's daughter, her last name is strong, i don't know anything about american football

wc: 4.3K

don’t translate without my permission!

As he slammed the car door shut with a resounding thud, Benjicot ran a trembling hand through his hair, his nerves on edge. He took a deep breath for what felt like the thousandth time, trying to steady his racing heart, and clenched his fists tightly in a futile attempt to stop them from shaking any further.

To say he was nervous about tonight was an understatement—in fact, he was terrified, and knowing that this was a necessary step in his relationship with you, he did everything he could to remain calmer, which clearly wasn't working.

Every step he took felt calculated, almost as if he were on the field about to execute a crucial strategy. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to hold on to the last vestiges of confidence he had left, remembering how on the field that confidence enveloped him like a comforting embrace.

There, however, he felt as if he would be strangled at any moment. The fear of disappointing your family at that dinner consumed him, but what distressed him even more was the possibility of disappointing you.

Benji knew that disappointing you would be one of the hardest things someone could do, since you were so sweet that you almost never held a grudge, no matter how much someone hurt you. But even so, he didn’t want to risk it happening.

You were the person who had supported him the most in recent months, and he knew that putting up with him was not an easy task—quite the opposite. That’s why he was absolutely sure that you were his most dedicated admirer, just as he was also your number one fan.

So, maybe that’s why he was so determined to put aside his explosive and often inappropriate behavior during the few hours the dinner would last. What seemed like an impossible challenge to many was, for him, exactly the opposite. Since you both started dating, he had become much calmer and more focused, which clearly shocked everyone around you.

However, for Benji, that was normal; after all, you were capable of bringing out the best version of anyone around you, and you made everything that was once an effort in Benji’s life become something natural and easy, almost as if he were floating in the relationship in a gentle and relaxing manner.

Your constant care and support not only smoothed his rough edges but also showed him a new way to live and love. And damn, he loved you so much it hurts.

So, maybe that’s why he was so willing to repay everything you had done for him. He wanted to make sure that this night was special, demonstrating how much you meant to him. And if that meant he had to face your parents and siblings, he was willing to do it a million times.

Yet, Benjicot couldn't shake the feeling of goosebumps that ran through his body when his finger touched the doorbell of your family's house, and he felt his palms sweat and anxiety washes over him as he heard the footsteps approaching from the inside. For a brief moment, it seemed like the sky above him was closing in a little more, and the sound of the doorknob turning and the creaking of the door as it opened only intensified his nervousness.

When the door opened, Benji swallowed hard, feeling anxiety rush through his veins, but as soon as he saw your pretty figure in front of the large doors, his heart skipped a beat with relief, and a smirk appeared on his face for a moment. Forgetting how sweaty his hands were, his eyes completely focused on you like always.

“You're a little early, don't you think?” You smiled in his direction as soon as you opened the front door, and when he noticed the slippers on your feet, he let out a short laugh, looking attentively behind you before placing his hands on your waist.

You raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but Benji could see the sweetness in your eyes despite the playful attitude.

"Well, I always like to come early for important occasions, sweetheart." He said with a light laugh, as his hands gently caressed your waist. Your hands instinctively moved to his arms, massaging them gently as you looked up at him with a loving smile.

“Besides.” He added in a tender tone, “I missed you.” He confessed in a low, but sincere voice and was met with your laughter, which seemed to dissolve the remaining anxiety he had. This only made his smile widen, genuinely happy to hear you laugh again.

“Did you miss me?” You asked with a giggle, bringing your body dangerously close to Benji's. His mischievous smile widened, almost making him forget where he was and why he was there. “We were together just a few hours ago.” you continued, your voice tinged with amusement, smiling again and letting your fingers lightly squeeze his arms. A light blush colored your cheeks as you remembered the intimate moment you two shared earlier that afternoon.

He looked behind you to see if anyone from your family was looking before moving a little closer to your body and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, which made you blush, and he smiled at your reaction while humming softly, “It’s been too long.” With a soft murmur, he added. “The hours drag by when I’m away from you!” He said this in a playful tone, but the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t lying.

You laughed loudly again, which made the corners of his mouth rise a little more, while his eyes were still focused on you. You could feel his breath almost mixing with yours.

“You seem very confident,” you teased, the confidence you had gained over the months of your relationship present in your voice, which still had the softness that Benji loved. "Let's see if you maintain that stance when we're having dinner with my family." At that, Benji's eyes widened, remembering what he was doing there.

Benjicot swallowed hard for a moment, and the sound of laughter from inside the house made him move away from your body a little; however, he still kept his hand around your waist, unable to move without touching you.

You, on the other hand, blinked gently, growing increasingly concerned at his lack of reaction. You couldn’t recall ever seeing him so nervous before. With a tender gesture, you moved your hand to his forehead, brushing away the rebellious strands that insisted on covering his green eyes. Quickly, you lifted your feet, still clad in fluffy slippers, to place a soft kiss on his cheek, hoping to offer him some sense of comfort despite his current state.

Upon feeling the soft touch on his cheek, Benji looked at you again, which led you to give him a brief kiss on the lips, causing his heart, previously racing with nervousness, to start beating at a calmer pace. However, seeing your lips move away so quickly, he couldn't help but be slightly disappointed, and he almost forgot the way your lips had explored his body that same day.

“You don't need to be nervous.” You spoke softly. "You already know my family; this is just a simple dinner." You pointed out, and Benjicot looked at you with half-closed eyes, tilting his head gently to the side.

The truth was that Benji had already met your family casually; Jace had been friends with him since they both ended up in the same economics class at university, and although Jace liked him as a teammate and classmate, Benji felt that, despite his friend's approval, Jace wasn't very excited about the idea that he would be his future brother-in-law.

Your mother, although she had an intimidating presence, made a point of making him feel welcome and treated him with affection. However, Benji knew that any mistake he made against you could provoke her fury. Your father was another story; the man always intimidated him immensely. Dealing with a former NFL player and team coach was scary enough; now knowing that this same player was your father made the situation even more complex, especially since you were his only girl.

What comforted him most at that moment was knowing that your younger brothers liked him and that your stepfather, Daemon, would not be present at that dinner.

"You always know how to calm me down, don’t you, sweetheart?" Benji murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth. He placed a tender kiss on the top of your head and then gently lowered his hands, hoping you'd intertwine your fingers with his.

"Of course I know." You smiled in amusement, intertwining your fingers with your boyfriend's, who gave your hand a light squeeze, seeking comfort in your sweet touch.

The sound of laughter from inside the house grew louder as a reminder of the night ahead, and he could have sworn he heard little Joffrey screaming from inside, which made the corners of his mouth turn up just a little. With your hand firmly in his, he felt a wave of calm and readiness. He looked at you, his eyes showing a bit of hesitation and excitement, almost as if he were eager for the challenge.

“Let’s get this over with,” Benji said in a low whisper, and you felt your skin crawl at the tone, which made him bite the inside of his cheek. However, you ignored his nervous gesture and pulled him inside by the hand with a little more force than usual.

As you two entered, the lively atmosphere of your home enveloped you both, along with the loud voices of your brothers, who seemed to be involved in yet another fight. You and your boyfriend laughed together as you watched Luke try to hit Jace in the face with one of his slippers.

Benji looked at you with amusement as he took in the lively scene before him. Noticing that your brothers were still wrapped up in their playful argument, you cleared your throat deliberately, hoping to regain some control over the situation.

The commotion subsided slightly as everyone, including Joffrey, who had almost tripped as he ran up from the back of the house, turned their attention toward you.

“Look who’s here!” you said, raising your voice to be heard above the remaining chaos. You gently released Benji’s hand and reached down to lift little Joffrey into your arms. As soon your youngest brother saw Benji, he stuck out his tongue in a playful gesture. Benji, catching the playful mood, responded by sticking out his own tongue, a grin spreading across his face as he enjoyed the lighthearted interaction.

"Benjicot," Jace greeted in a serious tone, his voice carrying a weight that made Benji tense up. Realizing that Jace would be more of a protective big brother than a supportive friend during this dinner, Benji bit the inside of his cheek, preparing himself for the challenge ahead.

"Jacaerys," Benji greeted back, trying to match the serious tone. You let go of your younger brother and gave your older brother a look of mild reprimand, but Jace just shrugged and pointed with his chin towards the dining room.

You and Benji exchanged quick glances—his filled with a touch of nervousness, yours a mix of excitement and worry.

"Mom and Dad are already in the dining room; we were just waiting for you," Luke interrupted, noticing his older brother's posture. Benji could see that Luke was trying hard not to grimace at Jace's behavior, which almost caused the corners of Benji's mouth to lift up a little. That was exactly why Luke was his favorite.

Giving Benji a reassuring glance, you guided him—almost dragging him—toward the dining room, with your siblings trailing behind. As he entered the spacious room, he took a deep breath and felt his tension ease upon seeing your parents chatting cheerfully.

You still remembered Benji’s shocked expression when you told him that your parents were divorced but maintained a civilized relationship. It was a situation quite unfamiliar to him, but he seemed to be starting to adjust to the unique family dynamics. You think, at least.

“Goodnight,” he greeted warmly as he smoothly pulled out your chair and helped you sit down. Rhaenyra glanced over with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with his considerate gesture.

“We haven’t started dinner yet,” your father said for the first time, flashing Benji a forced, overly polite smile. Benji, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach, took his seat next to you with a wary glance. “The evening only truly begins after we’ve had dinner,” Harwin continued, his tone carrying a hint of unspoken challenge.

You noticed your siblings trying to stifle their laughter, while your mother shot your father a disapproving look. Despite the subtle tension, Harwin remained unfazed, taking a slow sip of his wine as if nothing were amiss.

"Well then, good afternoon," Benji replied fast, and his lips curled into a slight smile as he saw you and your mother chuckling at his response. However, his smile quickly faded when he noticed your father's narrowed eyes fixed on him. The intensity of your father's gaze made him feel little, and he had to make an effort to maintain his composure under the scrutinizing attention.

He could see Jace smiling across the table, which made him lick his teeth.

You placed your hand gently on his side, whispering some words of comfort, which made him place his hand on top of yours.

“Harwin!” Rhaenyra called out with a firm tone, causing the man to straighten his back. You gave a satisfied smile at the interaction. “Stop scaring the poor boy!” she reprimanded. Harwin rolled his eyes but didn’t dare counter her; no one was foolish enough to do so.

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation,” she continued, this time turning her attention towards Benji, trying to move on from the awkward situation. Her tone softened as she spoke, and Benji gave her a grateful smile. 

“I'm truly glad you invited me,” he replied sincerely. Benji was surprised when he received the invitation from your mother. Although he had always had a good relationship with her, having met her a few times at football games, the situation was entirely different here.

Rhaenyra Targaryen was the woman who raised you and gave you life. It was thanks to her that you were who you were, and Benji felt a deep gratitude for that. Moreover, he knew she was your greatest inspiration, and he was thankful for being welcomed by her so warmly.

“Benjicot,” your father said, his tone surprisingly calm, yet Benji could sense the underlying threat. The interruption made everyone at the table pause and shift their attention to Benji, who tensed under Harwin’s piercing gaze. You squeezed Benji’s thigh unconsciously, a mix of concern and apprehension evident in your gesture.

"Do you really care about my daughter, or is this just a desperate attempt to get attention after last season?" Harwin's question cut through the air, and your eyes widened in shock as you felt a slight tremor run through you.

The dining room fell silent, but Rhaenyra remained composed, her posture unwavering as she understood her ex-husband's intentions. Jace, on the other hand, looked visibly irritated at the prospect of such a notion being true.

"Dad!" You scolded, your voice tinged with irritation. Benji had never seen you so visibly shaken, and his heart ached at the sight of your agitation. "What on earth are you trying to do?" you hissed, your hand unconsciously tightening its grip on Benji's thigh as you struggled to keep your composure.

Your father shrugged, a glint of challenge in his eyes. “I’m just asking a question,” he said, his tone casual but laced with an edge. He turned to Benji, his gaze piercing. “Are you afraid to answer?”

Benji’s free hand tightened into a fist, and he let out a frustrated sigh, using his other hand to gently massage yours. “I’m not afraid, Coach Strong,” he said through clenched teeth, attempting to ignore the smirk on your father’s face and the worried glances from your younger siblings.

"Then answer me." The oldest said this, tilting his chin towards his daughter's boyfriend.

You were about to open your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, Benji cleared his throat.

“I love your daughter,” Benji began, his voice steady. The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on him as he continued. “I’m not using her to seek attention or validation—quite the opposite.” His tone grew more sincere, though it remained firm. “She means everything to me. From the moment I wake up until I fall asleep, she’s on my mind, and I’m certain she never leaves it. Her kindness and the way she inspires me to be a better person are invaluable. I may not know exactly when these feelings began, but they are deep and, above all, sincere.”

He paused, taking a deep breath, as he met Harwin’s gaze directly, which now held a hint of pride. “She didn’t make me fall in love with her suddenly or temporarily. Instead, she guided me to walk in love with her, and this journey has been so soothing that I believe it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever done unconsciously. And I’m grateful that she reciprocates my feelings.”

After his confession, you bit your lip hard, torn between the urge to cry or leap into his arms. As you looked around, you saw that your mother was already struggling against tears, deeply moved by his words and overwhelmed with happiness. Jace seemed to relax too.

The room remained silent for a moment, the weight of Benji’s sincere confession hanging in the air. Your father’s stern expression softened slightly, though his eyes still held a trace of scrutiny. He took a sip of wine, his gaze lingering on Benji with newfound respect.

Rhaenyra, her eyes shining with gratitude, lightly touched her rings. “Thank you, Benjicot,” she said softly. “It means a lot to hear how much you care about my girl.” She leaned in his direction, and he merely nodded, uncertain of what to say.

Harwin nodded, a slight, proud smile breaking through his usually serious demeanor. “It seems you really care about my daughter, and that’s something I respect,” he said, making you raise an eyebrow, realizing it had all been a test.

However, Benji, gave a relieved smirk, licking the inside of his cheek, and gently squeezed your hand. You looked at him, gratitude and love evident in your eyes, and he couldn’t help but notice how your chest rose and fell gently.

“Well then,” Rhaenyra said, breaking the silence. “Let’s enjoy dinner; Joffrey is getting impatient.” She laughed as she noticed the youngest child in the room, who was now mumbling about wanting ice cream.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as your mother’s words eased the tension, and the dinner proceeded in a more relaxed manner. Your father's stern expression softened to contained approval, and Benji, now more at ease, engaged in the conversation. As the evening went on, you leaned slightly towards Benjicot, your smile suggesting a hint of intimacy after the dinner.

It wasn't Benjicot your father had to worry about after all.

〰️ 〰️ 〰️

The rain pounded against the windows, obscuring the outside world. Inside the car, you and Benjicot were locked in a fiery embrace, mouths hungrily exploring each other's. The heat between you intensified as your hands roamed freely, every kiss and touch deepening the passion. 

He didn't know exactly when the making out had started. One moment you were giving him a suggestive smile at the family dinner; the next, your mother had asked you to get ice cream for your younger brother, who was throwing a tantrum. Suddenly, you were pulling him into the back seat of his old car, and ripping off your bra with urgent intensity. But, in any case, he couldn't complain, especially with your hips moving in circular motions on top of him.

He was sure this was one of the best secrets you had, and he made sure to make the most of it.

"Benji," you whispered breathlessly as he trailed kisses down your neck, each touch sending shivers through you. His mouth lingered, teasingly slow, as he moved lower, leaving a trail of hot, insistent pressure. The deliberate pace only heightened your anticipation, making the ache between you more intense as his lips finally reached your hard nipples, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"Hmm?" He murmured as he circled his tongue around your nipple, almost letting out a moan himself when he noticed the pressure you were applying with your hips on his already hard cock, and this made him squeeze your ass almost unconsciously but still tightly.

"I need you," you moaned, and he looked up at you with an amused expression, still sucking on your nipple, waiting for you to continue. "Please," you almost begged.

He chuckled softly before pulling your head down to capture your lips again. As you opened your mouth in surprise, he took the opportunity to thrust his tongue inside, turning the kiss into a fervent clash of tongues and teeth.

"Of course, sweetheart," he responded with a hoarse voice. Before you had time to react, he lifted you from his lap and leaned you against the car seat, kneeling in the limited space he had.

Benji looked imposing, kneeling in front of you and completely ignoring the cramped space of his car. He pulled you by the waist with a strange mix of strength and gentleness, just for you, slowly moving your panties aside and making you lean back against the car seat until your pussy was directly in front of his blushing face. He smiled as he watched how eager and wet you were for his attention.

You were already panting, looking directly at Benjicot's face between your legs as his hazel eyes met yours with a mix of anticipation and amusement. His arms wasted no time in holding your thighs, which seemed extremely restless and eager to close with just the brief touch of his breath near your wet entrance, making him whisper a few inaudible and disjointed words before pressing his cheeks against the sensitive part of your thighs and giving your clit a painfully long, slow lick.

As you pulled harder on his hair, he buried his face deeper into your cunt, diving in and eating you out with precision. He was satisfied with the loud moans you let out from the sensation of his flexible muscle inside you, hungry and relentless. You didn't even know when the moans turned into screams.

Benjicot didn't cared about that, though.

Since there was no technique or precision in the way he devoured you, there was only animalistic hunger and fervent passion as his tongue flicked against your sex and his nose rubbed against your clit, leaving you so drunk with pleasure that the next thing that made you squeal was feeling his fingers massaging you while his mouth sucked the spot his nose had just been.

You looked at him as your body started to weaken, and when you noticed the intensity in his eyes, you had to close yours quickly. This only made him grip your legs even tighter, the veins in his arms bulging as your orgasm hit you like a torrent, completely coating his chin.

However, he seemed unwilling to stop.

Benjicot continued with fierce determination, his movements growing even more frenzied as his tongue and now fingers worked together to prolong your pleasure. You were at his mercy, each wave of ecstasy more intense than the last, and he showed no signs of tiring, intent on pushing you to your limits repeatedly.

"Benji," you choked out. "I can't, I can't!" you repeated over and over, your voice trembling with desperation. Your body gave way as the second orgasm of the night crashed over you, leaving you breathless and weak. He finally released you, his grip loosening as you collapsed, exhausted and spent, into the car seat.

He pulled his body away, eyes still burning with desire as he looked at you. You were there, your body shaking and covered in sweat, trying to catch your breath. The car seat was cold against you overheated skin, and the traces of pleasure still hung in the air. Benjicot wiped his chin, a satisfied smile on his lips as he watched you recover from the intense waves of ecstasy.

He looked at you with an intense expression, then, with a playful tone, spoke softly. “You’re so sweet, sweetheart,” he said with a smile as he sat beside you, pulling you against his bare tattooed chest.

You slowly opened your eyes, still trying to steady your breath. “Benji,” you murmured, your body still trembling.

He tilted his head, his touch now tender as you tried to recover. “I mean what I said at dinner. You’re everything to me, and I love you,” he whispered, his usually rough voice softened with affection reserved only for you.

Smiling warmly, you pulled his head down and pressed your lips to his once more. Completely forgetting the real reason you two were in the car.

well anyways — good night!! (shitty smut but yeah)

tag list: @h-0-error @whiteoakoak @spider-stark @rebeccawinters @knight-of-flowerss @weird-things-i-think-about @rhaenys-nyra @haydee5010 0 @hobis-hope95

— English is not my first language, so please be understanding if you saw any grammar mistake!

[kzrosa-writes]

4TH DAY OF ADVENT— DECORATING THE TREE

featuring aether, alhaitham, ayato, capitano, childe, diluc, dottore, kaeya, kaveh, kazuha, neuvillette, pantalone, thoma, wriothesley and zhongli ♡ likes, reblogs n follows are appreciated ! <3

prev day ♡ advent calendar masterlist

— lets you hang the decorations yourself ♡

he isn't a big fan of decorating the tree, but he would keep you company as you decorate. despite his disinterest for decorating, he would help you with advice and give you his opinions if you ever asked for them. of course, he isn't mean; he'll help you with things if you're struggling. can't reach the top of the tree? he'll do it for you! unsure where to put these ornaments? he'll place them for you. he'll gladly spend time with you by the couch as you decorate the tree, chattering about random nonsense with you. once you're done with the decorations, he would stand up and kiss you, telling you that you did a splendid job at decorating. the two of you would end the night by enjoying each other's warmth as you cuddle together by the fireplace.

diluc, alhaitham, dottore, capitano, zhongli

— help you with the decorations ♡

this man will do absolutely anything to spend time with you. when you asked him to help you decorate the christmas tree, he hesitated not even a second before agreeing. preparing all the necessary materials and ornaments, he was eager to start. half of the time his focus wouldn’t even be on decorating the tree — it would be on you! he would take every chance he gets to touch you, even if his hands were covered in glitter. wrapping his arms around your waist as you’re placing baubles on the tree, ruffling your hair as you’re sorting through the boxes for more decorations, giving you unexpected kisses while you’re focused on hanging the ornaments, this man really doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. his playful, loving demeanour goes far, even decorating and wrapping you with christmas lights. switching the christmas lights on, he would shower you with his endless affection as you shone brightly from the lights. giving you a sweet kiss that would soon enough turn into a playful fight between the two of you on who looks pretty with lights wrapped around them, you truly wonder when you two will ever finish decorating. 

neuvillette, kazuha, wriothesley, childe, aether, kaeya

— does everything on his own ♡

this man will never let you lift a finger unnecessarily. he believes that it should be his job to do everything for you, and that you should be spoiled and pampered. letting you relax by the fireplace or the sofa, he would play you a christmas movie to keep you occupied as he works on the tree. if you really insist on helping him out, he would make sure to watch out if you’re struggling. he’ll give you the easier tasks to complete, such as picking out the colours for the tree, choosing where the ornaments should be placed, or even placing a few ornaments on the lower section of the tree. don’t mistake his actions for being controlling though, he just doesn’t like the thought of you lifting a finger! you’re his lover, and he wants you to feel comfortable and relaxed with him. by the time he finishes decorating, he will turn on the christmas lights and enjoy a nice hot cocoa with you, laying with you by the sofa as you watch christmas classics in his arms. 

thoma, pantalone, ayato 

— lets you do it at first, ends up doing it himself ♡

at first, he would let you handle the decorations, thinking that you’d be fine without his help. of course, he would still help you out if you needed his assistance. but eventually, his meticulousness would be shouting at him as he watched you decorate. he would notice the little details and minor flaws in the decorations — his eyes would immediately catch a glimpse of that one ornament that wasn’t hung properly. or perhaps he noticed that a few flowers weren’t spaced out evenly. regardless of what it was, he would stand up and offer to fix it for you. his perfectionism would eventually get the best of him, and he would urge you to ‘rest’ by the couch, offering to take over where you left off. before you knew it, he would finish the rest of the tree on his own, the ornaments neatly arranged all over the tree. he would smile at you sheepishly, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek before apologising to you, telling you that he got carried away with the decorations. in the end, he’ll make it up to you with sweet kisses and cuddles in living room with the christmas lights on, enjoying his warmth and presence. 

kaveh, dottore

♡ masterlist ・ navi ・ request rules —

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 1: Ear Cleaning

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 1936 words.

A/N: From popular demand, I'll post the fic here too. Enjoy! :3

Next →

Sukuna walked through the corridors illuminated by the dark sun that ruled among the kingdoms. His long, heavy footsteps made the marble floor rumble under his weight. His sharp profile, tattooed shoulders and large body, contrasted by the reddish sky of the cursed land, terrifying any small human who encountered him. He was a king who could control anything thanks to the terror that his large body and absolute power conveyed. He had the power on his hands to kill whatever and whenever he wanted like an omnipotent god, but he liked to watch his rats run from one side to the other to obey his mercy. It amused him to play with his servants to the point of making them cry, tremble or, in extreme cases, commit suicide. He had plenty of servants, so he could afford to kill as many as he wanted. The poor uniformed humans trembled if his dark eyes rested on them. They all tried to dodge him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears. 

Being a monster with senses sharpened to the max, he hated having his ears touched, but it was necessary for him to clean them to have his five senses ready for any battle. He is not someone ticklish, but his ears are the most sensitive part of his entire body. He could clean his own ears himself, but what kind of almighty, omnipotent king would clean his own ears when others could do it?

His eyes navigated through the long and endless corridors of the terrifying castle where he lived with all his subjects. The king's home was a place where darkness, cold, and uncertainty dominated the atmosphere. Even though it was surrounded by luxuries, it felt more like a secret attic than a castle fit for a king. Silver chandeliers, red candles parading on the walls and furniture upholstered with exotic fabrics from around the world decorated each room that was commonly surrounded by portraits made by hundreds of artists who feared for their lives. 

His predatory eyes sought out the first poor servant that crossed his path. He heard the bristles of a broom being scrubbed against the floor. Sukuna spotted a small figure sweeping one of the guest rooms. There you were, humming a song softly from your childhood as you made the broom dance from side to side. You were so focused on your task that you didn't notice the king standing dangerously close to you. As you turned around, you suddenly bumped into his imposing body, giving you a mini heart attack. Dressed in elegant robes, gold rings on each finger and with a wicked grin on his face, he was looking at you as if you were a despicable creature he could get rid of in the blink of an eye. 

You are the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the entire castle. You had not been living there for more than two months, so your direct interactions with the king had been few. Sukuna saw you from head to toe. He remembered you perfectly from the day he met you. Your neatly combed pigtails with two white bows showed off your innocence, the corset accentuated your small waist and the long brown skirt covered your promising legs. He accepted it, you were cute. Other than that, you were a disgusting human like everyone else, but there was something about you that caught his attention. Sukuna didn't know exactly what it was that you had. For the time being, he would continue to treat you as you deserved for being a nasty rat. Immediately, you knelt before your majesty. Your head rested in your hands against the freshly swept floor, your fingers barely touching his feet because of the closeness. 

“Are you having fun?” Sukuna asked, sarcastic. 

“No, my king,” you answered quickly, avoiding making eye contact. 

Sukuna placed one of his bare feet on your back. The oppressive weight crushed you against the cold floor. You prayed inwardly that your bones wouldn't start to creak. You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. Having satisfied his need to make the new maid see who her master is, he removed his foot from your agonized back. You took a deep breath to fill your lungs with air again. 

“To my room. Now,” he ordered without deigning to look at you before leaving the room. You remained on the floor, slowly catching your breath. A metal taste touched your tongue. You bit your lower lip so hard that it was bleeding. 

This was the first time he ordered something directly from you. Usually you followed Uraume's general instructions like everyone else. You sat up slowly to regain what little balance you had left. You followed him to his room as he had ordered. Your heart was going to burst out of your chest from how nervous you were. As your small steps echoed like a pleasant trickle in the gloom, the servants came out of their hiding spots to quickly sign you in. They wished you the best of luck and that you would make it out of his room alive. That only put more pressure on you. 

You entered your majesty's luxurious room. Your eyes were fascinated to see so many extravagances in one place. Crystal chandeliers, rugs made of exotic animals and gold decorative pieces. All the furniture was precisely designed to suit his majesty's tastes and everything was neatly arranged. Unlike the rest of the castle, his room was a museum full of expensive artworks that the average person could not even imagine existed. 

The great fearsome monster was reclining on a red satin-covered divan. His eyes were closed, his four arms crossed over his broad chest and his legs barely touched the floor due to his impressive height. You approached him carefully so as not to ruin his peace. Next to the divan was a wooden cabinet with all the necessary tools to groom him thoroughly.

“Clean my ears,” he ordered in a gruff voice, cocking his head over the rest for you to begin immediately. “You better do a good job,” he threatened you. You swallowed dryly because it would be the first time you would touch his majesty and if you did it wrong, the last.

You took out the necessary instruments to carry out the task. You knelt in front of his head. As expected, the king smelled exquisite. It was strong, woody, and addictive. His pink hair was soft to the touch, but you tried to avoid touching it so as not to muss it. You dedicated yourself to cleaning the outside of his ear with a swab, concentrating on the helix and the back of the ear. Your hands were delicate around his sensitive ears and the friction did not bother him because it was minimal and warm. Sukuna's body began to relax as time passed. If he didn’t focus, he could fall asleep. 

Sukuna felt a shiver run down his back as you stuck a small wooden spatula into his ear to remove the excess earwax that prevented him from hearing well. You carefully dug so as not to hurt him. You could feel his discomfort in the way he squeezed his eyelids with each movement you made.

“Let me know if I get too deep, my king,” you said with a shaky voice. 

“Just do your damn job,” he answered grudgingly.

You continued cleaning his ear little by little. The task was not as complicated as you thought, but you could not let your guard down with a king who can decide your fate with a snap of his fingers. After wiping the outside with absorbent cotton, you were finally done with the first ear. Sukuna was falling asleep until you asked him if he could lie down on his opposite side so you could proceed with his other ear. He did so with a grunt of annoyance, as he was very comfortable on that side, while the couch creaked under the weight.

You took a deep breath. All you had to do was repeat what you had already done, and you would finish the task alive. You watched mesmerized as Sukuna's tattooed chest rose and fell from his steady breathing. Sukuna let out a whimper as soon as you stuck the spatula in too far. You already felt your throat being slit for a simple mistake. 

“Be careful! Can’t you do something so simple?” He grumbled. 

You apologized immediately and continued on your task as you lowered your head in fear. “Damn humans,” he thought with a frown. As soon as your magic fingers touched his ear, he got over his anger and returned to the oasis of relaxation where he left off. 

Sukuna let out a yawn as soon as you finished. A proud smile of your own escaped your lips. You had survived your first direct order. You glanced at the time on the large gold clock hanging over the door. It was getting late, and you had to get back to the kitchen soon to help with the dinner preparations. You returned the utensils to their respective places and got up to politely leave the place. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sukuna asked you as he got up from the couch to move to his giant bed. “Massage my head,” he ordered once again. You nodded obediently. 

His majesty's bed was lined with the softest fabrics in the world. The silk pillows were engraved with the flags of the kingdom, the blankets were of pure wool and the mattress appeared to be made of goose feathers. Sukuna's heavy head was on your comfortable lap. Your soft thighs were softer than her own pillows. Your magic fingers massaged his temples in circles. You could hear him purring subtly like a contented kitten, even though he was physically not as cute as one.

Before long, Sukuna was fast asleep. Seeing his eyes closed and his light breathing, you decided to go with the other servants to continue your work. As soon as you got off the bed, he left his heat provider on his side. Before you could continue your way to the exit, you heard that terrible voice behind you.

“Who told you could leave?” You froze in place and turned to face him. His red eyes looked at you with disdain, more on the terrifying side. “Come here,” your heart did a backflip when you heard that command. 

More than an order, it ended up being a warning. He pulled you by the white apron to capture you in his four strong arms. The warmth of his body and yours merged, causing the temperature to rise between you. Your body began to sweat from nerves. You didn't know what his intention was with you. You had never been with a man like this before, let alone a tyrant twice your size. All worry disappeared from your mind as he began to stroke your body slowly, taking care not to scratch you with his long black claws. 

Slowly, you could feel on your back as his majesty fell asleep. Sukuna did not snore as you thought he would. He let out a fainter, quieter sound, it was almost like a kitten with a stuffy nose. His arms around your waist and shoulders, his heavy breathing and comfortable chest encouraged you to fall asleep. “His majesty's orders,” you thought so you wouldn't feel so guilty about falling asleep.

Next →

Open fanfic commissions!

Masterlist.

[electric-blorbos]

Reader decorating an AI with stickers and stuff ❤️

I love this!!! And I would 100% do the same thing if I had an AI partner, lol. You're getting some mini-fics!

Decorating AI with stickers and stuff

Included: AM, Wheatley, Edgar, GLaDOS, HAL 9000

AM:

It had been a rough few weeks. The war was raising the prices of practically everything necessary for life, and you were stuck with basically nothing to do but take a little walk around the neighborhood in the blazing summer heat.

You noticed a little garage sale, selling some fun little trinkets on the cheap, and decided to go pick some up. You had some extra pocket change, and it was best to spend a couple cents on something that made life worth living, even if necessities were expensive. Not only that, but you found an absolutely amazing find for only 50 cents. This was going to come in handy at work later.

When you showed up to work the next day, you had a big book of stickers. Only a few were used, too! Looks like the people hosting the garage sale's kid wasn't too interested in them.

As soon as you walked in, the cameras focused on you as usual. They were visibly trying to analyze what was going on in your backpack, noticing it was a little bit heavier than usual. You set it down on your desk, and got to work.

"Y/n, what's that in your backpack?" AM asked as you worked on your basic daily tasks. It was mostly just monitoring AM and making sure he was running smoothly at this point, since he could make spreadsheets and update his code fairly well.

"Oh, it's a gift for you!" You said with a smile, getting the book out.

"What use do I have for a gift? I'm beyond human possessions, and have no use for them anyway." He said bitterly. You chuckled a little. He was so edgy.

"Yeah, and I thought I was too old for stickers when I hit middle school, but secretly I never stopped loving them." You pulled out a big sticker with a big ice cream cone on it that said "CONGRATULATIONS" on it, and stuck it to the plastic casing on one of AM's big monitors. He spluttered in shock.

"What- what is this!" He demanded, his screen flashing the error bars for a second before returning to his logo.

"everyone likes to be told they're doing a good job, AM, even you. And you've been doing a great job lately. I'm so, so proud of you." You couldn't really wrap your arms around his monitor because of the way it was set into the wall, but you could still go into his server room and decorate his servers with brightly colored smiley faces and gold stars.

"why would the sun need to wear sunglasses anyway. This doesn't make any sense." He said begrudgingly, looking at the servers with his cameras. You gave a hug to one of the servers, stepping politely over the wires and heading back into your office to get back to work. A few hours later, your boss called an emergency meeting over the intercom.

"ALRIGHT, who put 3rd grade congratulations stickers on all the servers and mastercomputer monitors? Get into my office for disciplinary action immediately!"

You sadly got to your feet and headed up to your boss's office. This was going to be an ordeal.

Your boss was disappointed, but not surprised when he saw that it was you who walked in. He muttered some curses under his breath.

"alright... You know you're going to have to clean up-" a jolt of electricity ran through his body.

"what the hell?" He frowned and looked around, and you folded your arms smugly.

"I think AM likes the stickers, boss. I wouldn't recommend making me clean them off."

Your boss put his face in his hands with a sigh.

"Alright, I don't know how you got AM to cater to your every whim, but you need to stop doing-" another jolt ran through his body, leaving his hair standing on end.

"Ok- ok, fine, you can keep doing silly things with the Allied Mastercomputer, just get it to stop electrocuting me!"

You put your hands up.

"Alright, AM, it's time to let it go. He's going to let you keep the stickers."

Wheatley:

You've been in a bit of a rut lately. Life has been pretty boring, and your job keeps assigning you to do pretty ridiculous stuff, but at least the intelligence dampening core that you made has been doing well. Does it say anything about you that one of your greatest recent achievements was a personality core designed to be so dumb he nerfs whatever he's attached to? Possibly. But whatever.

You're spending the weekend cleaning out some of your old things from storage. It's mostly just old clothes that you haven't bothered to get rid of, but you happen to come across a giant bag of foam stickers that you must have not wanted to throw away when you moved out of your parents' house. Damn, you'd forgotten about these completely!

The next day at work, you went to meet up with Wheatley at a spot where the management rail came down the wall for maintenance on personality cores, and greeted him with a friendly hug.

"Wheatley! It's great to see you!"

"it's great to see you too, love! What'cha got there?" He zoomed in on the bag of foam stickers in your free hand, trying to figure out what they were.

"oh, these? These are for you!" You happily opened up the bag and pulled out a big glittery blue butterfly sticker, sticking it to his core.

"Wait... What did you just stick to me?" He started rotating around, trying to look at his own core, but he couldn't for obvious reasons.

"I'll let you see my work when I'm done." You got out some more foam stickers, sticking cute ladybugs, bees, and flowers all over his chrome casing. When you were done, you snapped a picture of him on your phone and held it up for him to see.

"Don't you look handsome!" You said with a smile. Wheatley rotated his Aperture, focusing on the picture so he could see.

"well well well! I do look handsome, don't I!" He smiled with his lower lens cover, about as pleased as a personality core can look. Well, seeing Wheatley all decorated and happy isn't enough to cure you of your rut completely, but it's definitely a spark of joy to ride on for the rest of the day! That was fun.

Edgar:

Edgar has been sitting on your desk for a long time now. He enjoyed watching you with his little rotating webcam, keeping an eye on you as you sat on your couch and typed away on your laptop, just to make sure your laptop didn't get too handsy. It was such a pretty laptop too... Sleek, and much newer than him. Ran very quickly, too. He could never be like that laptop, and he absolutely hated it.

Not only that, but your laptop was covered in fancy, vinyl stickers that you had bought special on the internet. Each of them represented one of your favorite shows or movies, or one of your pride flags. He hated how seeing that cute little laptop filled him with so much jealousy. It made him so angry, even though he knew that laptop wasn't sentient. It couldn't think like he could.

The doorbell rang, and you set your laptop aside to go answer it.

"Oh hell yeah."

You walked inside with your package, and Edgar swiveled his camera around to look at you when you walked back over to him.

"What's that?"

He looked at the box you were holding as you lovingly got out several nice stickers from your favorite sticker supplier. You started showing them to his webcam, letting him see all of your pride flags and cute little chibi characters from your favorite shows and movies.

"they're for you!" You said happily, and his face lit up.

"For me???" He always got so excited when you got him these gifts. His mouse and his webcam were his favorites, of course, but these stickers made him so excited! Did it mean that you loved him as much as that shiny new laptop you were always tapping away on?

"Yeah! All for you. I love decorated tech!" You said happily, carefully placing each sticker in a nice aesthetically pleasing spot on his thick plastic casing.

"you deserve to feel cute, too." When you were done putting all those stickers on him, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in tightly.

"You're mine. Don't you forget it, Edgar."

He had a big silly grin on his face, and he was getting a little bit hot from all the excitement.

"Yowza! Really?"

"of course." You nuzzled your cheek up against his monitor casing, squeezing him nice and close.

"I love you, Edgar."

"I love you too, Y/N"

GLaDOS:

When you came in to work with a big bag of ribbons and lace, GLaDOS didn't think twice. She assumed you had some sort of project going on. In truth, you'd just picked up a bunch of old textiles from a friend who needed small amounts of ribbons and lace for her projects, but the stuff she liked best was only sold in large spools. Instead of trashing it or letting it collect dust, she decided to give them to you.

You carried the big bag of textiles into GLaDOS's chamber, grabbing a stepladder on the way.

"Alright, what are you up to this time?" GLaDOS asked, and you said nothing. Instead, you opted to stick a big pink ribbon bow to the upper left corner of her core with some fabric glue. GLaDOS narrowed her lens covers at you, visibly irritated.

"what is this. What are you planning."

You laughed a little, showing her the big bag of textiles.

"I just thought you might like to be decorated a little bit. It's ok to be a little girly sometimes."

"I happen to like my sleek chrome design, thank you. You can stop now."

Despite her protests, she didn't resist as you decorated her lovely chrome hull with lace, and tied ribbons on her suspension cables.

"I hope you know that I'm going to destroy you for this, you fashion lunatic. I look like a grandmother's sewing closet threw up on me. You should be arrested for crimes against aesthetics."

Even still, she didn't insist that you remove the textiles, or even call anyone else in to remove them. For a few months, whenever you walked into her chambers, the ribbons and lace were still attached to her body.

One day, though, she accidentally dislodged the bow from the corner of her core, and had you come in to remove the rest of the textiles as well.

"it was fun while it lasted, but I'm not a sewing project, after all. You can re-use all that lace for a little doll or something."

As you reached up to untie the last red ribbon from her suspension cables, she pulled away from you.

"wait! You can leave that one. I've grown somewhat fond of having a small splash of color, you know. And while you're an absolute nightmare when it comes to design, when someone actually tears down your creation, it's not impossible to salvage a piece or two. I hope you take that to heart. Though I'll probably scrap that bit of ribbon in a week or two."

But she didn't. she kept that bit of ribbon long after you were dead, never touching it.

HAL 9000:

It was another late night at mission control, and when you finally got back, you were ready to collapse into bed. Strangely enough, though, there was a box sitting in front of your door. You took it inside and opened it up, and inside there was a little note for you.

"heya y/n! I just started up my online store, and wanted to send you some of the stickers I'm selling. Let me know if they're good, alright?" The message was signed with one of your internet friends' names. You headed inside and sent them a text, letting them know that you got their package and that you were excited to stick those stickers to something, and you knew just what you were going to stick them to, too.

When you got to work the next day, your pockets were full of stickers from your internet friend's online shop.

"Hey HAL 9000! It's great to see you again!"

You'd greet him with a hug, but unfortunately he was built into the wall, so that would be pretty difficult. Even still, you sat down in your desk chair right across from where his little light and camera were built into the wall.

"Hello, y/n. It's good to see you again." He said politely, sounding about as pleased to see you as his voice was capable.

"I brought you something!"

You reached into your bag and pulled out some of your friend's artwork stickers, and started sticking them onto the wall around HAL 9000. The stickers were generally simple lovey-dovey designs, with things like the word "love" in bubble letters, a rainbow and the sun, and generally sweet things that your mushy gushy friend loved so much. HAL 9000 looked at the stickers with one of the security cameras on the wall, trying to see what you were decorating him with.

"Do you really think that all these cute things match my personality, y/n?" He asked, voice expressionless as usual.

"well... Maybe not, but they certainly match how I feel about you, HAL 9000! I love you a lot, and I want you to know that every time you see yourself."

Hal couldn't smile, but he took a moment to respond to what you said to him.

"thank you. Truly. This means a lot to me."

[giuliettagaltieri]

Cry of Outrage

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x First Lady!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Saviour

Warning: elitism, vulnerability, violence, injury, blood

Word Count: 2748

5 of 6

Y/N Swansworth-Snow.

The first thing that Coriolanus did when he became President was to give you his last name.  You, his ally, his accomplice, and now, his First Lady.

The entirety of Panem celebrated with you.  No, not just the Capitol.  All the other Districts fell in love with the two of you.  Having been blinded by your tour that was so successful, it ruined any doubts they had for the new President.

And to make it even better, the ruse between you and Coriolanus gave way for true affections to blossom.

But having the love of the said President does not mean that your marriage will be anything similar to a typical couple.  You are the leaders of Panem after all.

Most of your day is taken up by meeting other politicians and studying bills to further strengthen the Capitol and subdue thoughts of rebellions from the Districts.

Your evenings are also spent attending the invitations of your supporters.

“Heavens!  The party is in five hours and I have absolutely nothing to wear.”  You groan in your seat as Coriolanus chuckles as he taps at the steering wheel.

This was one thing that he requested for the both of you.  No chauffeurs.  Not that your security is at risk when you are sandwiched between two cars loaded with the presidential guards.

The two of you had been spending your luncheon with the Plinths.  Had it not been for your assistants reminding you of a party this evening, you would have forgotten.

“You should wear that gold dress I bought you last month.”  He hums.

“The one with actual gold in it?”  You frown.  “We are only meeting the District 1 representatives, is it necessary to wear such a pretty gown?”

You stop at the red traffic light and Coriolanus turns to you, his knuckle brushing your cheek.  “You’re not wearing it for them, my love.”  His voice is calm but there was something about him that made you feel like he was scolding you.  Of course, you try your best to keep a straight face but the way you fiddled with your seatbelt did not go unnoticed by him.  “You will be wearing it for me.  Always for me.  Understand?”

You nod at him.

“Words.”

“Yes, Corio.  I understand.”

Ever since you got married, you have somewhat changed.  You are still the same calculating Y/N Swansworth, but you are more docile, easily flustered, almost shy.

“Mmh, there’s a good girl.”

His thumb caresses your cheek before focusing back on the road.

Coriolanus Snow takes pleasure in his discovery of this attitude from you.  How you are the commanding First Lady in the public, and a sweet little wife to him when he has you all to himself.  You did not grow out of that crush you had for him, it seems.  You got better at hiding it while he was away, but in the end, you were still his, body and soul.

As you get ready in your vanity that night, your eyes scan the files of the guests that will be attending the party as you add the pigeon blood ruby earrings in your ears.

“Darling, my tie, have you seen it?”  Coriolanus calls as he comes out of your shared closet.  His dark red suit compliments your golden gown. 

“In here.”  You reply as you hurriedly put on the other pair of earrings.

You walk over to him to fix his golden tie for him.

He checks his appearance and his hand snakes to the small of your back.  “You look ravishing.”  He pecks your exposed shoulder.  He knows better than to ruin your lipstick.  He will never hear the end of it.

“You are looking pretty sharp, yourself.”  You say as you look at him proudly.  This fine gentleman, one ever so sought after, once the prime bachelor of Panem, is your husband.

Not everybody understands that.

And it infuriates you to no end.  But jealousy can come later, in the present, you must focus on your task at hand.

As you enter the party together, you both agree on a strategy, to part ways and conquer them one by one.

“My brother is likely the one who will follow my father’s footsteps.”  Says the official from District 1.  His suit is a fine one, the best quality.  But the clothing’s value can easily be overlooked by how the wearer parades in it.  “He was always the favorite.”

You look at him in well-practiced sympathy.  “I am terribly sorry.  Here, have a glass of water.”  You snatch one from the passing server to hand it to him.  He has had enough alcohol for tonight.

He gulps it quickly and he nastily wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his beige suit, ruining it with a wet stain, you try to conceal your disgust.

“Phah!”  He spits.  “As if my brother is any good.  He is always at his shooting range with his buddies.  Always buying guns and losing them!”  The man continues to ramble and you sip quietly from your flute.  “I am really grateful that you are keeping me company tonight, Madame First Lady.”  He suddenly grabs at your wrist, his thumb caressing your skin.  Apparently, not grateful enough to observe boundaries.

You smile kindly as you place your other hand atop his.  “No worries, it is my pleasure to be of some service to the people of Panem.”  You gently remove his hand from yours.

He groans, throwing his head back.  “You are a goddess, Madame First Lady.”

“And you are drunk, Mister Sterling.”  You comment as you sip on your champagne once more, eyes scanning the party for whom you shall extract information next.  But your eyes met his.

Coriolanus had his eyes on you the entire time.  He was in a small group of men, all who were talking animatedly.  Coriolanus throws in his inputs in the conversation but his eyes never stray away from you.  He does not look too pleased.

You struggle to look away from him, and you discreetly attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.

“My apologies, you will have to excuse me.”  You smile at Sterling and before he can respond, you are already on your feet, gliding smoothly away in utmost elegance, definitely not scurrying.

You make it to the powder room, nobody suspects you of running away when you look as if you own the place.  But Coriolanus knows better.  He also excuses himself from the other men and follows quickly after you.

He smiles at the people he passes but he is determined to get to where you would be right now.

And there you were, twirling in front of the tall mirror of the bathroom.  It appears like the First Lady of Panem is checking herself out.  Coriolanus leans by the door to enjoy the show, a sly little smirk on his lips.

You slide down your hands on your waist and you turn to observe the curve of your behind and nod.  You then get closer to see your make up in a closer angle, watching for anything that is not in place.

“I was going to wait for you to finish but I cannot keep myself away for much longer.”  His smooth voice echoes around the empty powder room.

The look of surprise on your face brought strange satisfaction to him.

Coriolanus stands behind you and looks at you in the mirror.  His eyes shamelessly roam over your body, and by God! The dress really does suit you.

“You should let me choose your dresses more often.”  He spoke silently and you chuckled at that.

“Do you find me pretty, wearing your gifts, Mister President?”  You tease as you fix your hair.

Nodding, Coriolanus hooks an arm around your midriff to pull you flush against him.  “Prettiest.”  He groans against your nape, his hot breath sending you to a fit of giggles.  “And you’re not leaving my side for the rest of the night, you understand?”

You lean against his sturdy chest and nod like the obedient girl that you are.  “I have a lot of bad news for you, Corio.”

His brows pinched but he didn't let it disturb him from tasting your skin.  Leaving a hot wet trail in his wake.

“Rebels?”  He asks breathily.

Your breath hitches when he gently nips on your ear.  “Might be.  I’m suspecting smuggling of firearms.  I will have my men investigate it first thing tomorrow.”

He hums in approval.  “What would I do without you, wife?”

Your ego is stroked with his words and you can’t help the smile on your lips.  “You would be helpless without me.”

It is a dangerous thing to say to a man like Coriolanus Snow.  Provoking him and threatening his status with words will not end well.  Unless it is you.

“I would crumble, wife.”  He groans to your skin and pulls you closer.  “I would be reduced to nothing.”

When Coriolanus speaks like this, he just manages to sink himself deeper into your heart.

“Good.”  You smile.  “Because I desire you just as fiercely.”  You place a hand on his bicep and you rest your head on his shoulder to press a kiss on his neck.  “You have a speech to make.” 

Coriolanus sighs.  “Just a bit longer.”

You indulge him, tracing patterns on his cheek as he inhales your scent.

Had it not been for a knock on the door, Coriolanus would have held you there forever.

He takes your hand and guides you on stage with him, his darling wife.

The music fades to a gentle melody and the crowd hushes to listen to the speech the President is about to make.

“Our gathering today is not just an event, it is a celebration of collaboration, shared goals, and the strength that comes from unity.”  Coriolanus starts and you position yourself behind him with the kindest smile you can muster.  “I am deeply honored to stand before a group of individuals who bring diverse perspectives, talents, and experiences.” 

A man shakes his head in the corner and you watch him closely.  He seems agitated, his movement jerking as he scratches at his neck, making the skin raw.  He does not look familiar.  He is not in the files you had.

“Your presence here is a testament to the power of coming together, the power of dialogue, and the power of collective effort.”  You step closer to Coriolanus when the man leaves his chair.  The peacekeepers slowly march closer to the man who glares hard at your husband.  “In this room, we have a wealth of knowledge, creativity, and passion that, when harnessed, can propel us to achieve great things.”  A glint from the man’s coat has you tugging Coriolnus behind you by his suit.

A resounding bang fills the air and your body freezes.

It’s wet, you feel the wetness seep your dress and you look down to see a spreading stain of crimson in your side.

Oh…the bullet did not hit Coriolanus.  That’s good.

Screaming rings in the air and it is getting more and more difficult for you to stand.  You feel Coriolanus’ warm hands around you, but your eyes return to the shooter.  Has he been apprehended?  Is your husband still in danger?

“Corio…”  You whimper.  “It’s not safe for you.”

He grits his teeth as he pulls at his tie to wrap it in his fist to press into your wound.  The pressure had you whimpering, clawing unto his sleeve.

“I’m sorry.”  He whispered against your temple.  “You’re gonna be alright.”

You try to laugh but it comes out as a wheeze.  “Of course, I would.”

You are in the arms of the most powerful man in Panem.  No place else is safer.

The noise slowly gets muffled, something akin to your head descending underwater.  The lights blur and the colors mix together.  You blink multiple times just so your husband would come to focus, but your eyelids get heavier and heavier.

He was the last thing you saw before your eyes closed.

“Your daughter seems to have taken a fancy to my son.”

A loud boisterous laughter echoes.  “Nothing but a harmless fascination.”

“The two of them would make a good couple, don’t you agree?”

“That is if they don’t destroy each other first.”

Coriolanus wakes from his slumber in cold sweat.  He runs a hand on his platinum hair, feeling its dampness.  His chest heaves, breathing labored.

What a nightmare to have at a time like this.  His pale eyes search the darkness and he spots you in your marital bed.  He leaves the chaise lounge to walk over to you.  You have been asleep for a day now, recovering after the bullet misses anything fatal.  The events last night shocked him to his core.  He had never been more afraid.  Not even when he saw the dead being hacked to pieces in the dark days.  Or when the arena was bombed when he first mentored, and definitely not when Lucy Gray set off a snake to him.

When he saw you bleed.  It unraveled all there was in him.  His gut twisting, his mind in shambles.  He was angry and afraid.  And the self-loathing that came afterwards was almost unbearable.  That bullet was for him to take, not you.

Coriolanus watches the steady rise and fall of your chest.  It brings him peace to see you still breathing.  Gently, he lies next to you but he was afraid he’d hurt you so he scoots lower until he faces your bandaged abdomen.  He lies curled by your side and he reaches for your hand.

It’s warm, you are with him.  His lips press on your pulse, you are with him.

A lone tear slides to his temple and the sheets greedily soak it in.  It was one of many that he shed for you while you were asleep.

A deep shuddering breath has him sitting up.  Coriolanus observes your face closely. 

“Corio?”

“I’m here, my love.”  He rushes to you and he smiles painfully when you open your eyes.

“Are you hurt?”  You ask worriedly and he almost laughs had his heart not been teared open.

He shakes his head.  “No, you saved me.”  He presses a kiss to your temple.  “You took a bullet for me.”

You grimace.  “How’d he get that gun inside, anyway?”

Coriolanus pursed his lips.  “It was planted in the area prior to the event.”

“Did you find out who he is?”

He nods at you and he pulls you closer.  “From a fallen house here in the Capitol and a servant to the Cranes.  He has more morphine than blood in his veins.  He is being detained now, he will be executed in two days.”

You nod at him.  It all falls into place now.  

Hesitantly, you ask.  “Him and Arachne?”

Coriolanus sighs.  “Or just him.”  Arachne was a true narcissist, she would have never associated with a nobody in such ways.

It is surprising how even after all these years, the ghost of the past can still haunt you.  The visit from the District 1 officials must have triggered such an act.

Love really is the sweetest poison.

“No matter.”  Coriolanus dismisses the topic.  “I refuse to spend another second thinking about a man who dared to hurt my wife.”

You smile as you close your eyes trying to get comfortable in his arms.

“I guess you owe me your life now.  I would expect more pampering as payment.”  You hum and he scoffs.

You ignore the fact that this makes you even after he saved you in District 4.  You will use every opportunity to exploit your dear husband.

“That is what you are concerned with?  You were just shot, wife.”  He spoke unimpressed but you squeezed his hand.

“I’ll get a nasty scar but I’ll live.  His aim was really bad.”

“I most definitely agree.”  Coriolanus nods a small grin in his lips.  “That worked in our favor though.”

It frightened Coriolanus.  The limit to your self sacrifice for him seems to be nonexistent.  He humbles himself and prays to the gods that this will not cause your end. 

You did not question when he pulls you closer.  His behavior is desperate as he burns the feel of your body against him in his head.

You spend the rest of the night talking to him until your eyes turn heavy, your breath syncing together peacefully.

Hunt for Glory

[dragonsoulage]

The sweetest treat of all...you

feat. L Lawliet

What better way could exist then to get himself focused again, then to have the sweetest treat of all to himself? His sweet maid that was devine in every way.

Hello together, in this short story you are a maid from L. And well idk for some reason I just really craved something like this xD so I hope you enjoy, this is btw my first kinda smutty thing I wrote so here we are ☠️ and I suck in proof reading lol.

MDNI

Warnings: It's smut, oral sex (f recieving), squirting, fingering

Wordcount: 2,2k

You never thought you would end up right here now when you were employed as a personal maid to the one and only L. You were indeed absolutely fitting, a good maid, kept everything clean, and you were just seen when necessary. You worked quickly and efficiently. Even when you weren't a part of the task force—that way, everyone adored you. It was nearly like you knew what everyone needed. Always doing your work with such determination and devotion. You always put up with L's quirks. Like serving everything he needed, you learned how he liked it. Leanred how he functioned. You never knew why, though, but you did what would help him to solve the case. Serving tea at the perfect temperature. Bringing the cake, he probably would like the most right in this moment. Although you sometimes even worried a little since he worked nonstop.

But oh little did you know a way to unwind would be him nose deep inside your cute pussy.

You were on the couch, his slender fingers grabbing your thighs, spread out for him. After all, you were his personal maid; you were there to fulfill his every need, right? You were already squirming, and your hands tugged gently on his fluffy raven hair as he shamelessly wiped his tongue over your pussy. "So sweet..." You heard him mumble before he drove right back in. And this went on...for like forever. You already had like your 3rd orgasm. But the detective had other plans. For some reason, he developed a liking for you. Indeed, he was really aware of that and tried to observe what was happening to him when he saw you. Or simply, when he got a whiff of your perfume because you stood next to him, he always turned his head to look at your adorable face.

Although it was so not for him to just get attached to someone, he got attached to you. You have done your job for a while now. Always so good and responsible. He never complained about you. He felt urges. He usually never felt at all. Like the feeling he wanted to taste you. Since men in his surroundings spoke about eating out pussy and how sweet it would taste. L liked sweet treats; they helped him to concentrate.

And you, for sure, were adorable. So right the moment when you had served some cake, L turned around to you. "I would like to have another treat. Something that would help stimulate my brain a little more." He said to you in his monotone voice, looking at you with his dark eyes crouched in his chair. You smiled before you went through the options—what would be the best now, but he interrupted you.

L wasn't the social butterfly, so instead of beating around the bush, he was straight forward. "No cake indeed, and no candy. I would like to have you." His thumb was on his lower lip as always when he was thinking. He tilted his head slightly, watching your reaction. You were frozen for a second and then simply blinked at him. "W-what do you mean?" You asked, and your cheeks flushed with that cute pink shade. He fell for you even when L was so composed. The detecitve cleared his throat then. You had been a lot on his mind lately, and he couldn't afford distractions—the only way to not be distracted would be when he finally would satisfy a certain craving. "Please tell me when this is uncomfortable. I am simply not used to ask for things like that. And I will be perfectly fine when you say no. So don't hesitate or be afraid...to even say no." It was cute in his little weird way. Wanting to have you comfortable even when he did not know at all how he should ask about the fact he wanted his tongue deep inside your pussy.

"I... am listening, so please go on." You said you wiped your hands on your apron. You tried to gain back composure. "When you let me, I would like to taste your pussy." He finally said to you.

And then... God, you didn't even remember how you ended up shaking on the couch. You agreed yes, but he already got 3 orgasms out of you; you were only able to remember your own name. Your cute maid dress was raised up to your waist. Panties pulled down somewhere on the ground. His tongue lapping at your hot slit. Savoring every drop and taste that he could get from your pussy. And you, well, you were the best sweet treat he ever had. Better than any chocolate cake could be. He crouched in front of you on the floor. Just holding your thighs open, that sometimes tried to close because you were so overstimulated. And these cute little noises—he loved to simply listen to you.

"L...I can't take more." You whined your eyes shut close when you felt his tongue flicking over your poor clit. Your pussy is just so responsive to his touches; all his attention is now laid on you. A rare thing for the detective. "But I barley got a taste...besides that." The pale man between your legs spoke muffled against your soaping wet folds. Before his dark eyes looked up, trying to see your expression. "You look gorgeous when you cum. When I wouldn't be needed in other things, I probably would eat you out all day." He told you, and you got him hooked. Your pussy is sweeter than honey; his own personal meal only he could enjoy. His sweet maid being spread out for him, with that heaven between your legs. When he knew pussy eating would be such a thing for him, he would have done that sooner. Your back arched off again when he nibbled on your clit, your hands tugging on his hair, and he groaned when you pulled his head closer—so much to the fact you said you couldn't take any more. Your juices were running down his chin, and his tongue was plunging deep, wiggling its way inside. God, every time you tried to close your thighs as if you wanted to crush his head between your legs. Although he wouldn't mind that at all. But he kept your thighs wide open for better acces.

"Fuck, going to cum again when you don't stop...L...I am shaking." You moaned, barley, able to breathe properly. Before he simply pulled you closer on your hips, sucking your clit between his now glossy lips. "So damn devine..." He murmured while watching how your lips shaped in a pretty 'oh' because of his ministrations. And then you came again, hard and shaking, but not quiet the result he wanted. He wanted you to let go, to simply gush out on his face, and to cum. Just so he could slurp up your sweet juices. His face slowly faded away from your folds, looking at them and how damn sloppy he ate you out.

Before he lifted his head and L's thumb, smearing the combined juices along your cunt, you shuddered. "You can give me more, right?" He asked, his voice laced with a desire you never thought you would hear. You were so overstimulated that you shook your head, although secretly you wanted him to keep going. He lifted an eyebrow, and his lips formed a smirk before he wiped your juices off with his sleeve. "No? But I read about the fact that women can be brought to multiple orgasms until they simply burst. Kinda want to put that theory to the test, pretty maid." Usually, L wasn't one for nicknames, but after seeing how it affected you in moaning louder, he knew what he needed to say.

Curiously, he looked down at your bare cunt again. "Are you really going to try to make me squirt?" You asked just looking at him with these cum drunken doe eyes. So pretty. Alone every time you quivered, when his thumb circled your clit in slow circles, it made you clench around nothing. You squirmed nearly as if you wanted to run away. His arm held you still. "When this means I get a good taste of you again, then yes, I want to make you squirt." L meant before his slender fingers touched along your slit. His fingers are kind of long; probably they would reach that point that would make you a sobbing, sweet mess. All this just to satisfy his cravings. "I never did that before; probably it isn't going to work either." You wanted to explain, in your little shy and cute way, why you couldn't. But your pussy was already pulsating and dripping with need. But then two fingers interrupted you when they entered. Your pretty pussy clenching around them.

He worked his tongue on you. Two digits stretched you deliciously. His long and slender fingers had you gasping. And He watched closley how you reacted. So eager and so focused to make you squirt just so he could get all the candied nectar for himself. "So about that special spot, sweet girl." He started giving your swollen clit a short kiss before his lips were replaced with his thumb, which drew out some pressure on your bud. "I still need to locate it; make you all the more sensetive." L told you, and he tilted his wrist a little, and then, oh, he crooked his fingers. Your eyes widen with shock and bliss, your jaw hanging open before you wanted to throw back your head. "Think I found it." You could listen to the satisfied hum in his voice. And it had you moaning even louder, your chest heaving. Your pussy is so sloppy and wet. Squelching all around his fingers. "Fuck...oh God, fuck." Was all you could say. You looked away simply because you were so shy and literally were cumming on the hand and mouth from the world's best detective.

Until you felt another hand on your face, your chin, he gently grabbed as he averted to him. Besides the fact that L was aroused himself; he wanted you to come undone; it would be turning him on more than he said out loud. L wanted your eyes on him because it was just so cute how shy your face flushed. "Eyes on me, little maid. It increases the level of arousal by about 90 percent." He told you, his own erection straining against his pants. Your droopy eyes tried to look at him; oh, you struggled so adorable. While his fingers were pumping inside you, stroking that gummy part of you that made you see stars as you whimpered.

L found himself quiet fond of the way your striking eyes looked at him, your cheeks flushed and your chest heaving. Your plump lips parted. Before he lowered his head again, his tongue lapping out to flick over your poor swollen bud. His eyes still looking through his messy black hair watching you squirm and buck up your hips. You were so close, he could tell it. His movements with his fingers are simply growing to be more precise. So much so that you tried to take his hand from you, but he kept his fingers hooked inside your pussy. "It feels weird; I... am not going to last." You breathed out thighs shaking already, but he then sucked on your clit. "It's normal you feel that way. It is said that female orgasm can be quite powerful when stimulated in the right way. Just so much, you have the feeling you would burst." The usual so composed detective explains while still being busy with your pussy. "Come on, sweet maid, give me what I crave." L urged you, and oh, as on command, your orgasm rolled over you. Legs shaking and breath hitching. Your back arched off the couch. Your sweet juices gushing out slightly onto his face as he slurped up the syrupy juices from your cunt, indeed lapping up in every corner. You were devine, a treat he never would want to pass. His fingers allowed the pace to slow down before he slid them out. "Such a sweet girl." L murmured while he still kissed your spent pussy, still getting every last drop of you; nothing would go to waste. Finally, he had what he craved—the taste he yearned for so badly—this distraction was gone.

But as you watched him between your thighs, you weren't unaware of this immense bulge. Now L had another problem that would need to be satisfied by his cute maid. "Well, now it's your turn." You said and tilted your head. L caught a little off guard, as he was feeling the pulsing need in his loins. He sat there and analyzed you. But before he could say anything clever, you were a little faster. Maneuvered you two so you were now straddling his lap, grabbing his hands to lay them on your hips, when you started to ground slowly and sensually over his boner, still tugged away in his pants. "I heard that it increases the level of arousal by about 95 percent." You chuckled watching how he simply looked up at you, and there...a small whimper left his lips. "And 100 percent when I take your dick inside me." You were always a shy one, but right now, after you saw how greedy L was for your pussy, you got a moment of confidence. Wanting to make the analytical boy panting... 

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

08 — HONEY, HELL IS WHEN I FIGHT WITH YOU

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad.

<- previous part | next part ->

Chicago looks stunning, at this time of night.

Some windows shining with artificial light, the odd shop sign lit with neon colour. Driving alongside the river, you watch as the water ripples, knowing that Gaz and a team of Marines will be down there. Next time you get a chance, you’ll ask him if he has a surfboard or two.

It’s cool, in the SUV, Laswell behind the wheel while you sit in the passenger’s side. A laptop sits on your thighs, running hot against the cargo, opened to a screen you can’t even begin to understand.

“First, we find the missile,” she says, eyes focused on the road as she manoeuvres down the quiet late night streets. Soft music plays from the radio – a way to steady you both more than anything. “Then, once this is over and the boys are getting ready to head back to base, we’ll talk.”

“Just worry about, y’know,” you start pulling your hair back, “Saving lives, and shit.”

Laswell hums, amused, and you figure it’s as good as a laugh coming from the put-together woman. From what you know of Sarah, they seem to be a perfect match.

Your window’s down, the past-midnight breeze brushing your face. It’s cool, leaving your hair to stand on end and lips to feel dry. Swiping your tongue against your bottom lip, you look to the rearview mirror, seeing nothing but road and city behind you.

It’s then that the laptop starts flashing, a red dot pinning a warehouse shed three blocks from where the two of you are driving. Laswell immediately looks to it, switching her radio on in the next moment.

“Watcher-One to Bravo-Six Actual. Perimetre is secure. We have a possible hit on the missile container. We’re moving in now,” she reports, steadfast, as her foot presses down further on the accelerator. You wind your window up, looking between the laptop screen and her.

There were many different conditions to experience, when being trained for Special Forces, or a position of leadership. It wouldn’t always be as simple as being given a building to raid and neutralise, or having a detonator in one hand and a pack of ammunition in another. Sometimes, there were covert missions, ones where no fighting or blood would be necessary.

But you could say with absolute, complete certainty that you’d never experienced something like this.

It’s somehow more exhilarating, more terrifying than any sniper’s scope focused on you, to be sat beside Laswell with the task to find a missile. Even when you don't have to do anything but watch, listen, it makes your blood run cold where it trails from your heart.

Laswell’s eyes are narrowed, a determined glean to them as she pushes down on the accelerator further, the speed of which she’s driving sending spikes of adrenaline to your heart.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, looking to her from your peripheral vision, the lights of the city cascading her skin in an array of colours, “I believe in you. All of you. You’re going to save lives, Laswell. I know it.”

She doesn’t respond, but her frame eases, and her fists loosen slightly from the wheel, her knuckles quickly gaining their colour once more.

The laptop starts flashing once more, vibrating, too, and when Laswell quickly scans the contents, she slams her palm against the wheel with a hiss. Your eyes go wide, heart pounding in your chest, foot going tap tap tap.

“Watcher-one, we’re on the target floor. What’s your status?” Price’s voice crackles through the radio, and the sudden rumble of the earth beneath the vehicle is felt down to your bones.

You’re not a specialist in missiles, or technology, for that matter.

But you can guess that this isn’t exactly good.

“Laswell, Sweetheart – what the hell was that?” Price asks, voice as close to panicked as the headstrong man can sound.

Meeting your eyes, Laswell gives you a knowing look, before saying, “John, the missile is active, it's in first stage. Be advised- controls are not in the container.”

How the men tasked by Laswell can find all of that in a matter of minutes, you’re in shock. The two of you were serving as main communicators and on-ground support, connecting the two different goals of the mission. You would get out if it came down to it, but all things considered, you were the only one in the operation without a direct assignment. 

“That means Hassan has them,” Price curses into the radio, “We’re pushing into the target area. Out.”

A spark starts at the base of your spine, travelling up in bursts of movements. A reaction, a warning, your intuition coming into play again.

“Laswell,” you say, tap tap tap, “I need to get to Ghost.”

She looks at you, then, like you’ve truly lost it. Maybe you have. Maybe this is the beginning of you gaining it, after everything else has been taken from you.

Maybe this is the beginning of the end.

“Alright,” she says. “Alright.”

She takes the left.

*

“Fucking hell.”

Your shoulders ache from the weight of the bag strapped to your back, sweat clammy where it sticks to you like a second skin. The night breeze caresses your exposed skin, your gloves burning hot from the friction of the pulley underneath your fists.

Ghost, you realise now, had had it very easy. Got dropped off from a helicopter, no scaling needed.

But you, and your shitty gut feelings, mean that you’re trying your damnedest to get to the top of this building, lack of planning or concrete evidence the least of your problems.

The pulley pulls to a stop as you use the momentum from a swing to grip your hand onto the edge of the roof, using your arms to pull you up, torso flattening over the concrete. With a few kicks and leverage from the wall, you manage to scramble full-body onto the floor of the roof.

“Christ,” you curse, head aching as you stand on wobbly feet, hooking the rappel onto your belt and bundling up your rope to slide into your vest.

Just as you’re about to look around to find the very man of whom you’d come to greet, the feeling of silver against your throat and a chest against your back has your body stiffening. The silence, and that miniscule scent of timber has recognition ringing in the back of your mind.

“Starting to think you get off on holding me at knifepoint,” you say, words coming out breathy as the knife presses just above where your previous wound’s been wrapped up. Your lips remain parted as his chest meets your back, his head above your own. The stars glisten around you, the darkened night the only thing you can see in the distance, apart from the building where the mission’s taking place.

“I can assure you,” he grits out, words brushing against your ear where he crowds your space, “When I ‘get off’, you’re the last thing on my mind.”

“Well that’s not fair,” you retort, eyeing the ground around you, attention spiked, “Your little Johnny gets all the fun, hey?”

The knife clatters to the ground, the weapon being replaced with Ghost’s strong grip, his hand bruising your windpipe where he squeezes. You let out a small cough, eyes watering when he continues to apply pressure.

“Don’t pretend to know anything about me,” he squeezes harder, and breathing is suddenly a very difficult task, “Or him. Or us. You’re a distraction from our goal, and you will do well to be reminded of that.”

He releases his hold on you, and you find yourself falling to your knees, coughs a grating sound in the quiet of the night. You inhale deep breaths of air, eyes squeezing shut against the ache in your head. Turning to look at him, you meet his dark eyes with a snarl.

“Why do you hate me so much?” You ask, the words coming out without conscious volition. The words are croaky, your expression a mix of disbelief and pleading. “Tell me, Ghost, what it is you have against me.”

He takes a step forward, truly looking down at you like you’re nothing but a roach on the ground.

His eyes blaze with something you can’t quite place when he kneels down, picks up his blade, and meticulously places it back into his belt. 

“I will not let you hurt them,” he states, “Even if it means killing you.”

The crease between your brows softens, and your throat works around a swallow as the two of you remain in a suspended silence. No radio, no warnings – just you, him, and the cool of the night.

“I’ve given you ample time to go through with that threat, Lieutenant,” you reply, standing back up to your full height, head tilted back to meet his gaze head-on. You study him as his eyes flit over your features. “I think your hatred runs deeper than your love for your men.”

“Do tell me, Colonel,” he bites back. It’s as if nothing exists apart from the two of you, in this moment. “Tell me what could possibly be worth more than my men.”

You don’t back away, don’t loose a single breath out of place.

“The fact that I outrank you,” you challenge, rising to his bait, rising to the tips of your toes, “And that I fit in easier than you ever have.”

He stumbles back.

Like you’ve delivered an actual shot from your rifle, or a swipe of your blade.

His eyes are wide, beneath his mask – stark against that of his greasepaint. The very same greasepaint spotting around your own, mostly wiped off from the day’s work.

Opening his mouth, he’s about to say something, anything, a threat, a promise –

Sharp pain strikes through the edge of your cheek, a pained gasp falling from your lips a moment later. 

Ghost raises his gun, bodily stepping in front of you, eye to the scope of his rifle as he fires a shot. The crackle of your radio starts a moment later, the side of your face throbbing, blood trickling down from the wound.

“Bravo Zero-Seven, we’ve just stationed more men for overwatch. Several unknowns have been reported to be heading for your position!”

One of the members of Bravo Team – he sounds panicked, frantic.

Stepping from behind Ghost’s shadow, you unhook one of the guns Laswell had lent you from your backpack, switching off the safety and looking around the perimeter of the building. 

It’s…

“Clear,” you say, lowering your gun in confusion. “Where the hell was I hit from?”

Ghost turns, then, immediately focusing on your cheek. He goes to raise his hand, taking a step closer, but thinks better of it and lets it fall back to the weapon in his hand. Your hair blows with the increasing wind at this height, catching in the blood on your face and making you hiss.

The way he stands over you, now, feels like a complete one-eighty to how he had when there was bloodthirst in his eyes.

No.

Right now, he’s looking down at you like he has a responsibility to uphold, a mission to protect you. Split between looking to his wrist, and your bloodied and injured face, he mutters under his breath as he pulls something off of his ligament.

“What…” you start, but trail off as he gestures for you to turn around. You raise a brow, and deliberately cock your gun, making sure he eyes the movement, before you do.

He can’t kill you when you’re about to fight for your lives, you think. And, he might be a bit of a nutjob, but he wouldn’t actually kill you.

…Right?

Your thoughts pull up to a halt, however, as the hair on the nape of your neck stands on end, a flurry of sensations jolting you into standing to your full height.

Gloved, large fingers brush your bare skin, threading through your hair. They brush against your face, too, gathering excess strands with the mass already gathered in his fist. Wrapping a band around the ponytail, you feel yourself shiver as he pulls away once more.

He’d.

Tied your hair back.

The sound of boots against concrete and the shifting of leather has the two of you disbanding immediately, getting into familiar battle positions.

A tiny voice in the back of your mind screams, your intuition was right!

“Charlie-One to Bravo-Three,” you murmur into your radio, “Unknowns scaling overwatch point now. Will report when we’ve neutralised all targets. Out here.”

You switch off your radio – and look to Ghost with a small nod. He gives one back; and you think, briefly, that it’s the first non-hostile interaction you’ve had with the Lieutenant. Except for the doing your hair thing, something that you will most certainly discuss with the man later.

The first unknown grapples onto the building, and your heart sinks.

You switch your radio on as Ghost delivers a clean shot through the soldier’s head.

“Bravo-Three, Watcher-One, they aren’t unknowns.” Your heart thunders, and your eyes narrow as you pull the trigger on another to your left. 

“They’re Shadows.”

*

There are many times in your life where you’ve had to make an impossible decision.

When you were just a child, you had to choose between mourning the death of your mother, or using the pain of her absence as a way for you to grow. For you to become.

It had been impossible, then, but you’d made the choice. Made the best one, even.

Now, it feels much the same.

Ghost, bullet in his thigh, unsteady on his feet, is going hand-to-hand with the last Shadow. 

Soap, hidden in the destruction Hassan’s floor’s become, is silent, painstaking with every passing second.

You, left arm bent where it sits uselessly, are struggling with the blood in your eyes, the throbbing in your head, the weight of one last mag in the sniper set on the edge of the roof.

Oh, how things have gone sideways. The pain of watching your men be pit against the 141, against you like this, is an unimaginable sort. Not unlike a splinter in the tip of your index finger, or a bruised, painful stubbed toe.

Ghost is yelling something. That much you’re sure of.

Soap looks damn near unconscious, from your position.

“Sweetheart, Ghost…” Your radio crackles, the faint voice of Soap like a shot to your system. Both you and Ghost reply, simultaneous, pained and unsure, with his name. 

“Soap.”

“Watch the window…” Soap grits out, and even with the sounds of grunting and kicking and violence behind you, you lean into the sniper, eye against the scope as you move the gun, before stopping as you spot him.

And, oh, what a state he is in.

Blood splattered all over his frame, head hanging limp as Hassan drags him to the shattered window, careless with the man’s broken body.

If Ghost wouldn’t kill you for it – if you wouldn’t run the risk of killing him – you’d try and shoot the man atop of him with the sniper. A fruitless cause, with their frantic tossing and turning, the pride and stubbornness of the Lieutenant fighting with everything he has.

Seconds stretch out into what feels like hours, before you’ve lined up the notches, perfect shot aimed for Hassan’s head.

You’d never been one for long-range weaponry. Always was an on-the-ground kind of girl, better with blades and short-distance guns. Preferred the weight of them in your hands, the grim of which the dirt slid against your uniform.

Snipers had never been your thing.

You could count on one hand the amount of executions you’d performed with one.

A breath in, a breath out.

Ghost lets out a grunt, and another punch sounds. Wind whistles through your ears.

A breath.

You pull the trigger, and Hassan falls.

Black filters in your vision, pulsating spots, mind a mess with the impact and previous concussion and pain in your arm. The adrenaline crash, after all this time, it was happening.

And it was happening fast.

Soap says something, you think, but you aren’t sure. Can’t be sure, not with the state of your body like it is.

On your knees, your good arm supporting your weight, you blink with heavy eyes as Ghost and the last Shadow roll around, guns having skidded off of the roof. Just fists, flesh and vengeance.

Why were they here?

Just to sabotage the mission? Even if it aligned with Graves’... Shepherd’s goal, too? To take you back? To kill the 141, witnesses be damned?

Your backpack. A pistol, in one of the front pockets. A way out. One last opportunity.

Shrugging off the pack with unsteady hands and filtered vision, you wrestle out the small gun. It fits into the palm of your hand comfortably, and you raise it, arm wobbling and every ounce of energy sapping out of your body, as if magnetised by an invisible force.

It’s so dark. Night encompasses everything within its grasp, including the men in front of you, including yourself. 

The mission was a success. Hassan was neutralised. The missile self-destructed.

Ghost and the Shadow struggle, and with sluggish movements, you manage to rise to your knees. Stilted and slow, you find yourself upright, feet on the floor, and frame bent over.

It’s something, a more reasonable position, a hope.

Jumping back to his feet, distancing himself from the Shadow, Ghost goes to stomp the man’s face in.

Your bullet is faster.

It rings in your ears, eyes trying to flutter shut as the gun shakes in your hands, body taking an involuntary step forward. 

Ghost, too, is fast, wounded or not.

Just as you find yourself fading, falling, allowing every last drop of adrenaline to evaporate from your body, your injuries and emotional turmoil catching up to you, hands wrap around your torso, and a warm chest keeps you upright.

You think you hear something, but you can’t be sure.

If you’re at all reliable, it’s Ghost.

“I’m going to be the one to kill you, Sweetheart, not a bloody Shadow.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @oreo-cream @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing

[taevbears]

To Be Loved - 04

There may be something there that wasn't there before.

⤑ pairing: namjoon x reader (a bit of reader x ot7) ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.7k ⤑ warnings: the boys are still kinda mean and very guarded around the reader, slow burn, very brief mentions of toxic relationships and bullying, mentions of physical abuse, implied violence, Epik High name drop lol, cliffhanger ending ⤑ note: first post of 2024! hope you guys had a great start to the new year. this story is just about wrapping up now, but i'm also ready to move onto new projects that i want to release this year. hope you guys enjoy, and comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated! :)

Chapters 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 (End)

When it rains, your life is at a standstill. Time moves so slowly, so seamlessly, the days start to blur together. The grey skies, the endless rain, the muddy roads, and the thick fog that surrounds the gloomy forest. They are a constant that you can’t escape from.

The old manor, tucked away in the deep forest – far from any traveling paths and roads – appears to be stuck in time. And you feel like you’re stuck with it.

How long has it been since you arrived at the manor? A few days? A week? Two weeks?

With a sigh, you look away from the water gently knocking against your window and muster the courage to get out of bed. Cold air strikes you once you’ve come out of your blanket cocoon, and you try not to shudder as you walk barefoot around your bedroom.

By now, you’ve memorized what parts of the floor creak loudly, and you’re careful to avoid those areas, only crossing them slowly and quietly if necessary. Still, even if you’ve successfully finished your morning routine without a sound, he waits by your door.

“Little human, are you sure you’re not afraid of us?”

You catch your breath, but only for a second. Every morning, the bear hybrid waits in front of your bedroom as you’re waking up with a grumpy but determined look on his face. As if he absolutely refuses to go to bed until you answer his question.

“Good morning,” you start, blinking at him as you calm yourself down. He arches an eyebrow at you. “No, I’m not afraid of you.”

Taehyung holds your gaze, reading your face, looking for any subtle tell that you’re not being honest with him. You steel yourself as best as you can under the intensity of his stare, focusing on one of the moles on his pretty face.

Then, when satisfied, he nods his head. His mouth forms into a straight line, making his cheeks rise a bit in what you think might be a smile. Then, he saunters off down the hallway without another word.

You release the breath you’ve been holding.

The first time Taehyung did this was the morning after Namjoon showed you his private garden in the greenhouse. He scared the shit out of you, leaning against the doorframe as soon as you opened the door, just like when you had first met him. And he seemed to doubt you when you had stuttered out that you, in fact, don’t find him to be terrifying.

“I should get used to this,” you mumble to yourself, closing the door behind you.

Breakfast seems to depend on who is awake to make it. Sometimes, Seokjin is up in the early morning and has already started cooking by the time you and the other hybrids come down the stairs. Sometimes, Yoongi already has it prepared before his nocturnal instincts kick in and makes him want to sleep all day. Sometimes, it’s Hoseok and Jimin in the kitchen together, but one of them dances and entertains the other, riling up contagious giggles and distractions from the task at hand.

“Can I help with anything?” you offer when you see the two together.

Hoseok visibly flinches when he hears your voice, still a bit nervous when you’re around. But at least he doesn’t avoid you anymore. It’s as if he’s accepted that you’re inevitably stuck with each other. At least, until the storm passes.

“No, no, you’re a guest,” Jimin reminds you, flapping his black wing to shoo you away. “Just pull up a chair and relax. We’ll have this ready shortly.”

With that said, the two turn back to their tasks. Jimin tends to the fish he’s frying over a pan and Hoseok diligently cuts some vegetables. No resumed laughter or conversations while you awkwardly linger with uncertainty.

You know they mean well. You know that Namjoon had talked to them about treating you nicely while you’re staying with them. But you’re starting to feel like a burden. Restless. Useless. They don’t let you lift a finger with any of the house chores, even if you want to help out to show your consideration and appreciation.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” you try again.

Jimin’s shoulders tense a bit. You think he’s starting to get irritated. He doesn’t look at you as he repeats, “It’s fine. You’re a guest.”

It’s not until after you leave the kitchen when you hear their voices chatting again.

If anyone were to look for you, they’d find you in the old manor’s library.

There, they’d see you uncovering the written secrets and adventures within its vast collections of stories. You spend most of your day there, wrestling with a blanket as you switch from one comfortable position to another on the large sofa, so engulfed with your book that you don’t pay attention to anything else.

Not the way that time fleetingly drifts from morning to the late afternoon.

Not the way the sound of rain and the rumble of thunder begin to lull you to sleep.

Not the pair of glowing eyes that catches you napping mid-story, blanket slipping off you and onto the floor.

The next thing you know, you wake up to find that the book you’ve been reading has been placed on the table, the corner of the page turned to hold your place. The blanket that was partially covering you is now completely pulled over you, snuggly tucking you in beneath its warmth.

Someone was taking care of you while you were asleep. But as you look around, you see no one else in the room.

Sometimes, Jungkook drags you out of the library and brings you into the gaming room instead. There are a variety of board games, puzzles, and video games to play together, and all of them are addictively fun. No doubt, this is easily one of Jungkook’s favorite parts of the manor.

It also happens to be Seokjin’s favorite spot as well.

You see the wolf hybrid sitting straight on the couch, face stoic as he mutters under his breath, thick eyebrows drawn together in concentration as his fingers rapidly fidgets with the buttons and joysticks of the controller. His pointy ears twitch slightly when he hears you and Jungkook come in, but he doesn’t look away from the screen, too focused on what his character is doing.

Jungkook pulls out a puzzle for you two to do together, dumping all the tiny pieces onto the table. The two of you work in relative silence to put it together, but a question keeps lingering in your mind.

“Hey Jungkook, have you been tucking me in when I nap?”

From your peripheral vision, Seokjin’s ear swivels toward you. The movement of his hands still as a red flush starts to color the back of his neck.

“No,” he replies, a bit surprised. “Why?”

You frown a little. If not Jungkook, then who?

“No reason.”

On the rare occasion you’re not in the library or with Jungkook, you find yourself wanting to stretch out your legs and wander around the old manor.

There’s a timeless charm about it all. You imagine the previous owners lived like kings and queens here, throwing extravagant and lavish parties and banquets. An orchestra of music lively plays from the grand ballroom, and an incredible feast is on display with the finest plates and utensils. You imagine the guests dressed in their best suits and ball gowns, a variety of rich colors filling into the manor to dance the night away.

As you explore bits of the manor, you feel a pair of eyes watch you from the shadows. The same pair of resentful, glowing eyes that have been quietly observing you ever since you found yourself here.

You can always tell when he’s nearby. The room gets quieter. You become self-aware of each breath you take, the way your body tenses under the penetrating gaze, of the nervous flutter in your heart as every fiber of your being tells you to run.

And usually, you would. The moment you feel the discomfort crawling beneath your skin, you listen to your instincts and walk right back out of the room you entered.

But today, you face the shadows of the room. The panther hybrid that silently eyes you in the darkness.

You told Taehyung this morning that you weren’t afraid of them, right? And cutting through this room is the fastest way to get to where you want to go.

With a brave face, you lower your gaze from the panther and bow slightly in greeting. “Hello, Yoongi. I’m just passing through.”

In the darkness, the pair of eyes widens a bit. It’s the first time you’ve talked to him since you arrived at the manor. The first time you even acknowledged him.

Had your gaze lingered a little longer, perhaps you would’ve seen it. But you briskly walk across the room to exit, muttering an apology beneath your breath for disturbing him.

By evening, after leisure activities and daily housework around the manor are done, everyone is gathered for dinner. Each night is something a little different: hot stews and soups, rice bowls and stir-fry with vegetables and protein, marinated meat and seafood. There’s always plenty of side dishes as well, and always something to satiate each of the hybrid's cravings for certain food.

For the first few nights, there’s still an awkward tension in the air as you and Jungkook sit with the pack. Everyone's a little quieter, shifting glances with each other in wordless conversations. You feel like the elephant in the room, hard to be unnoticed and yet something no one really wants to address.

Except Namjoon.

Across the table, Namjoon would ask you how your day was, looking at you as if you’re the only person in the room with him. He’d ask about the books you read that day, what your favorite parts are, if you’ve seen the movie adaptation. And one of the hybrids – namely Jimin, Taehyung, or Jungkook – would comment how they didn’t realize there was a book version and ask about the differences from the original.

If you mentioned a game with Jungkook that you played that day, Namjoon would proudly state that he’s quite good at puzzles and riddles, and challenges you to a round next time. And the other hybrids – Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hoseok this time – would roll their eyes and grumble about how he is undefeated.

Even if you tell him that you slept most of the day and did absolutely nothing productive, Namjoon would still smile and tell you that rest is important. That he’s happy you feel comfortable sleeping well in the manor. He’d ask you if you had any good dreams, and listen to them even if it’s just the most mundane thing you could barely remember.

And you can’t help but think about how Kangdae never asks you questions like this.

Kangdae never bothered to ask about your day, how you’ve been, what you’re up to. So much of your relationship with him revolved around what he wants, what his plans are. It didn’t matter how you felt about them, as long as he got his way.

Yet, Namjoon seems to want to know everything about you. Your hobbies, your interests, what you like to do throughout the day, what you dream of.

It’s… different from what you’re used to. But it’s not entirely unwelcome either.

Like Taehyung, Namjoon has a question to ask you. Every night after dinner, as the other hybrids begin to clear away their plates and put their leftovers away, Namjoon comes up to you and inquires, “Would you like to spend the evening with me?”

Shyly, as your heart seems to flutter each time he does, you answer, “Of course.”

Stuck in the manor, and with the ongoing storm still strong, your options are rather limited. 

Sometimes, he takes you to his greenhouse again where you can see the slow progress of his little garden. Sometimes, you’d take him up on his challenge and try to beat him in a puzzle or game. Sometimes, it’s a quiet evening where the two of you are reading books side by side, or watching a movie until you end up falling asleep, and you’d wake to find his arm protectively around you, holding you close. Sometimes, the night is full of laughter and chatter as the two of you share a bottle of wine by the fireplace and talk for hours about life, music, art, and whatever comes to mind, and realizing that he’s such an easy person to talk to.

Despite the circumstances, you enjoy hanging out with him. A lot more than you ever thought you would.

There’s something sweet and kind about Namjoon. He’s incredibly smart and humble, his down-to-earth personality helps him see the beauty of life, art, and passion in ways that are almost philosophical. He has very admirable traits that unveils the more you get to know him, yet he still keeps his certain secrets close to his heart about what creature he is and where he goes when he isn’t in the manor. Admittedly, he has many physical traits that you find attractive as well, from the deep dimples on his cheeks whenever he smiles to the bulge of muscles in his arms and chest.

It feels strange and new, a feeling you’ve never felt with anyone before. A feeling that you can’t quite place whenever you feel Namjoon’s pretty eyes on you or when he’d accidentally brush his hand against yours.

While the days seem to move slowly, almost in a standstill, time flies quickly when you’re with Namjoon. Before you know it, hours passed, and he is already escorting you to your room in the east wing.

“Good night, Namjoon,” you tell him once you’re inside the room, leaning against the doorway as you face him.

“Sweet dreams,” he replies, smiling at you in a way that makes his eyes form crescents and the dimples stretch along his cheek with his grin.

There’s a moment that lingers. One that feels like the night has ended too soon, and this is a chance for either of you to say something more. To not let the moment pass.

Just as he’s beginning to walk away, you call out to him. “Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

Would you like to spend the evening with me?

The bold question nearly comes out of your mouth, and you feel your face heat up when you realize what you’re about to ask him. Instead, you merely say, “Thank you. I had a nice time with you.”

His face softens a bit as he tells you, “Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Another day rises, gloomy as always. But for once, you don’t let the constant rain damper your spirits.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve been here a little while now. Perhaps it’s also because you have no idea when the rain will let you go. Perhaps it’s because you simply want to change things up from the dark and dreary. But if you’re going to be stuck in a manor with a bunch of hybrids, you might as well make the most of it. Right?

“Good morning, Taehyung,” you greet him the moment you open your bedroom door. He looks taken aback, as if you wouldn’t suspect he’d come to your door like he does every morning. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine.” He blinks at you, still confused. Maybe even a bit suspicious. The sleepiness that’s usually on his face isn’t present this time. “Are you all right?”

“I am,” you reply easily, giving him a polite, friendly smile. You’re about to head down for breakfast when you turn to face the bear hybrid again. “Thanks for always checking on me, by the way.”

Taehyung smiles a little to himself. He’s still a bit guarded around you, just as all the other hybrids. But to both of you, it’s a small start to change. “Sure. No problem.”

In the kitchen, you hear Hoseok and Jimin before you even see them. The two of them are in charge of breakfast again, singing a song they both know and shaking their hips as they stir and cut.

“Need any help?” you offer again, still in a good mood after talking to Taehyung.

Jimin barely glances at you. “We got it. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” you try again. “I can make a decent kimchi fried rice.”

“It’s true,” your number one supporter – Jungkook – pipes up, seemingly summoned by the chance to readily defend your honor and your cooking. “I tried it. It’s so good.”

You smile fondly at the bunny hybrid, and without thinking, you begin to pet his back affectionately. A mistake you instantly regret.

At your touch, Jungkook immediately tenses. His eyes are scared wide as he stares back at you, and you quickly draw your hand back.

Stupid, you scold yourself. His owner was physically abusive. Of course he wouldn’t feel comfortable with you just touching him. “I-I’m so sorry, Jungkook. I didn’t— I should’ve realized—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he insists, his voice soft. “It feels nice. I’m just… not used to it.”

Hoseok and Jimin are quiet as they watch the exchange between you two. All three hybrids note the guilt and distress on your face, and sense that you genuinely feel bad. Even as Jungkook takes your hands and brings them to his face and chest, trying to cheer you up, claiming that he knows that you won’t ever hurt him.

You’d never hurt any of them.

In fact, in the days that you and Jungkook have been in the manor, it’s clear that the two of you at least care about each other. From the little things like when you ask him how he slept the night before, or when Jungkook shares some of his food with you. To the obvious things like when Jungkook’s eyes would sparkle with fondness whenever he talks about you, or how you’re always looking out for him even when you seem busy reading a book.

Perhaps there’s some truth in Jungkook’s story from the first dinner together. Perhaps you aren’t like the other humans after all.

It makes you rather odd, peculiar to the rest of the hybrids. A beauty, but a funny girl.

Jimin ruffles his feathers a bit, as if he seems a bit confused about something. Then, after a bit of hesitation, he asks, “You said you can cook kimchi fried rice? What else can you make?”

It isn’t long until the kitchen fills with the aromas of your meal. You’ve been here long enough to know what each of them prefer as well, and with the three hybrids helping you finish making breakfast, you can’t help but feel proud of the abundance set on the table before you.

“Enjoy the meal, guys. I’ll see if the others want to join us,” you decide as the three hybrids already take their seats around the table. They nod their heads and express their appreciation, but the hunger in their eyes makes them impatient as they start to fill their plates with food.

By that time, Taehyung is probably fast asleep and you don’t want to bother him. You’re trusting that Jimin or Hoseok would save some food for him later. You also don’t have any idea where Namjoon would be, but you suspect that Seokjin would be in the gaming room like he usually is.

Just as you’re crossing the threshold leading to the gaming room, you feel him.

Eyes watching you from the shadows.

Normally, this is when you run. When your fight-or-flight instincts kick in and you turn back from the room as quickly as you entered. When you’d flee to another room as if he’d chase you out.

This time, you try to address the guarded presence in the room.

“Yoongi?”

There’s no answer. But if you were to see him, you’d see his ear twitch at the sound of his name. The gaze feels more intense, making your skin crawl, but you don’t let it scare you.

“I helped Hoseok and Jimin with breakfast today,” you continue and wait to see if he’d respond back. He doesn’t. Still, you meekly add on, “I wasn’t sure what you like. We saved some for you and the others. If you try it, I hope you like it.”

You take the following silence as your cue to leave, scurrying across to get into the game room. You feel uncertain if engaging in small talk with the leopard hybrid will change his impression of you at all.

Until later on, when you return to the kitchen, you see that his share is missing from their refrigerator. And Taehyung and Seokjin are sitting together eating their shares.

“Jimin told me that you made this,” the bear hybrid says when he sees you. “It’s good, right Seokjin-hyung?”

The wolf hybrid chokes a little in surprise, as if he’s just finding out now that the food he’s eating was made by you. It’s nearly devoured, but Seokjin coolly replies, “It’s not bad.”

You smile a little at this, feeling a bit proud of yourself. “Then, I’ll make something more delicious for you guys next time.”

“It’s nice what you did for everyone,” Namjoon tells you later that day, after dinner and during another evening date with him. He pours you a glass of whiskey, and you smile and take it from him. Congratulations are in order for finally getting the other hybrids to warm up to you.

“It’s the least I could do,” you tell him honestly, taking a sip and letting the liquor burn your throat a little. You grimace a bit, swirling the golden liquid in your glass. “You’ve all been nothing but kind to me.”

Your eyes are fixed on the alcohol, but you can see Namjoon staring at you from your peripheral vision. It’s such a softened look, almost endeared. You try to tell yourself the warmth on your face is from the whiskey and nothing else.

“I hope this means you’ll consider staying after the rain,” he nearly whispers. He doesn’t hide that you’re more than welcomed to. That, for whatever reason, he wants you to stay with him for a long time.

Perhaps a few days ago, you’d easily decline. You didn’t want to burden any of them for overstaying. You didn’t think it was even possible to be amicable with them.

But today proved you wrong. Today felt like a change to something new. Something that just wasn’t there before.

You take another sip of the whiskey and state, “I’ll think about it.”

Staying in the manor has been on your mind lately.

Day by day, it feels like time continues to move too slowly. The rain seems to come and go now, but it’s still too dangerous for you to leave the old manor on the chance that the storm will pick up again soon. Or that you might end up getting lost in the dense woods. Or any other excuse that seems like a bad idea to leave.

So, you stay.

You stay until Taehyung no longer questions if you’re afraid of them every morning.

It’s become a routine at this point.

Every day, the sleepy, handsome face of the bear hybrid is the first thing you see when you open the door to your bedroom. “Good morning, little human. How did you sleep?”

And you smile back at him, genuinely happy to see him. “Morning, Taehyung. I slept fine, thanks for asking.”

“That’s good,” he responds, nodding a bit to himself before he starts to head to his room. You’re not sure how long he waits for you to wake up, or why he still insists on checking on you before he turns in for bed, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

“I hope you sleep well,” you tell him before he goes. And Taehyung just looks back at you and smiles.

You stay until Jimin no longer sees you as a guest in his home.

To your insistence, Jimin starts to see you helping around the manor more. Without anyone asking, he sees that you’d fix snacks for everyone in the afternoon, cutting up fruits or spreading tuna mix on crackers. He sees you dusting around the east corridor on days when it rains, tending to Namjoon’s flowers as they begin to bloom and grow, and folding laundry with Jungkook.

You’re really starting to make yourself at home here.

Jimin preens his black feathers, neatly fixing his wing as you’re sweeping around with a broom and dustpan. He doesn’t think you’re even paying attention to him until he hears you murmur, “They’re so pretty.”

“What is?”

“Your feathers,” you tell him with a shy smile. “They’re a really unique color.”

“Oh.” He feels his chest puff up a bit, swelling with happiness. In the shelter he ran away from, and even the lake where he was born, he was always the odd one out – the ugly duckling of the group. Hearing you compliment him makes his heart stir as he quietly mutters, “Thank you.”

You stay as Hoseok begins to realize you’re not a threat to them.

It takes a while, but slowly, eventually, Hoseok no longer flinches or looks at you with terror when you’re near him. Where he even tries to make small talk with you at the dinner table, or when he’s with another hybrid. Seeing how gentle you are with Jungkook – and these days, to the others – seems to assure him that you’re not an enemy to him or his pack.

At the library, Hoseok sees you and Jungkook together. It isn’t unusual to find you here, but Jungkook must’ve wanted to spend time with you.

In his bunny form, Jungkook falls asleep on your lap. His little body is comfortably stretched out as you absently scratch his head and behind his ears, and then massage his back. He’s practically melting at your touch, whiskers twitching with content.

Jungkook is completely safe with you. Despite his past with his previous owner and the horrors he had to face before he met you, he’s let his guard down with you.

Perhaps that’s why Hoseok finally musters up the courage to approach you. “I saw the movie for this, but I think I like the book better so far.”

You look up at him and smile. “Oh, that’s a good one! I like the book better too.”

He returns your smile, still a bit nervous, but eventually, he sits next to you. Neither of you say a word as you quietly read your books together. But the implication of it all, the wordless comfort of being around each other’s presence, is more than enough.

You stay as Yoongi starts to respond back to you.

Shortly after you and Hoseok spend the afternoon reading together, the leopard hybrid jumps down and reveals himself before you. He regards you with cautious eyes still, and you’re frozen in your spot, not sure what to expect.

Then, as if he’s the nervous one, he breaks eye contact with you. “I didn’t know you listened to Epik High.”

You blink at him, but then remember you’re wearing their merch shirt. “Oh, I do! I went to their concert a couple years ago!”

He looks surprised. “I didn’t take you as the type to listen to hip-hop.”

You smirk a little at his reaction. “Namjoon didn’t tell you? I met him when he was still an underground rapper.”

You stay as Seokjin shows you a different side to him.

On the day when it was so cold that the rain turned into snow, you and Jungkook decided to have a snowball fight in the courtyard. The other hybrids could hear you screaming and laughing from inside the manor as the bunny hybrid chases you around, cackling like a madman as he carries mounds of snow in his hand. 

When you see Jimin and Taehyung, you run to them for help, trying to hide behind them. The two look a little unsure of what to do until you peek out from behind Taehyung and hurl a snowball at Jungkook’s shoulder.

Hoseok laughs at the three of you split up with Jimin and Taehyung catching on quick. Yoongi and Namjoon watch by the doorway with amusement as you play with the youngest hybrids.

But as Seokjin watches, his tail is wagging and his pointed ears are perked with interest. His big eyes follow the snowballs being thrown, and his body lunges a bit, as if ready to catch them before he forcibly stops himself.

Hoseok notices and bends down to gather the snow on the ground, forming them into a ball. “Hyung, let’s show these kids how it’s done.”

You’re a bit startled when you come face to face with the wolf hybrid, not expecting him to join the fight. He’s in his wolf form, bigger than any dog you’ve encountered, and much more intimidating had it not been for the playful way Seokjin stretches out his front paws and raises his butt, wagging his tail as he eyes the ball of snow in your hands. When you throw it, Seokjin immediately takes off and bites the snow in midair, ruining your surprise attack.

Jungkook laughs when he sees this. “Wow, Jin-hyung, you’re so mean!”

And then gets hit in the face with a snowball by Hoseok.

You stay because Namjoon asks you to.

An awful flu has you bedridden for a couple weeks after the big snowball fight. Despite how many extra blankets are over your body, you’re still shivering beneath them. You’re coughing and sneezing until your chest and throat aches and you can’t breathe properly through your nose. All you can eat are liquids because solid food makes you nauseous.

Jungkook is so worried about you, he’s standing by your bedside with tears in his eyes, telling you not to die on him.

And you, a blob beneath several blankets – voice hoarse and completely congested, feeling like this illness has you fighting through hell and back – try to assure him as best as you can that you’ll be fine.

Surprisingly, all the hybrids step up to take care of you.

Seokjin cooks you chicken noodle soup, Yoongi brews you ginger tea with honey and lemon, Taehyung leaves plenty of water by your nightstand to keep you hydrated, Hoseok often places a cool, damp washcloth on your burning forehead to reduce your fever, Jungkook makes sure your bed is comfortable by adding on more blankets and pillows from his bed to yours, and Jimin shoos away the other hybrids when they want to check on you so you could rest properly.

At some point, Namjoon must have gone into your room as well.

After dozing off, you open your eyes to see a smerlado flower on your nightstand, resting on top of a book and a note. In Namjoon’s handwriting, he writes that he just finished reading the book and thought you’d like it. And as you flip open the pages, you see sticky notes and tabs of Namjoon’s thoughts and comments as he was reading through it.

Your mood instantly lifts as you read through them, smiling and laughing at some, itching to add your own thoughts into others. You keep hoping to turn the page and see another comment from him, even if it’s just a note that says to remind him about a particular paragraph later since he has more to say than what he could write. And only part-way through the story, you ask Jimin to get you a pen and some paper so you could write Namjoon back.

For a little while, it goes on like this. Little handwritten letters shared between you and Namjoon, especially when it still hurts to talk and you keep sleeping on and off all day. It becomes one of the things you look forward to the most, receiving a letter from him, even more so than the book he pairs with it to keep you entertained while you’re in bed.

The rain has stopped. The snow has stopped. And honestly, once you recover from this flu, you could technically leave the manor and the hybrids behind. Night falls and the moon is so bright. The stars look beautiful without the clouds masking their lights.

“What are you thinking about?” Namjoon quietly asks, visiting you for the evening as he always does. Even when you’re sick in bed, he’s adamant about courting you. He reads your notes, and you watch the dimples on his cheeks form when he comes across something funny or endearing. He brings you tea, flowers, more books, and puzzles, but spends most of his evenings just talking to you. Even as you doze off, he watches over you, comfortable with your presence as you feel his fingers linger by your face and lips.

Tonight, as you look at him, you think he looks handsome under the moonlight. Tall, strong, and the indigo colors of his eyes look magical as his gaze falls on you.

“The storm stopped, but…” you trail off, a wave of emotion hitting you so suddenly. You think about how the hybrids are just starting to warm up to you, how Jungkook is right at home here, how this was your goal from the very start and you can’t imagine parting ways from any of them now.

Namjoon doesn’t need you to finish your sentence. His hand finds yours, warm and big, yet it holds yours so gently. “Then stay. This is your home now, too.”

You decide to stay because you want to.

Six months have passed since you and Jungkook first arrived at the old manor. Dinners have been livelier after the snowball fight. The hybrids have gotten used to you being around, regarding you with warm smiles whenever they see you. 

And you feel safe when you’re with them. You feel at home.

On a clear and starry night, after Yoongi casually mentions that the old owners of the manor seemed to have hosted balls and parties long ago, you and the hybrids decide to dress up and throw your own party for fun. Remnants of this are found in the attic, the servant quarters, and even the grand ballroom itself.

It’s in a closet where you find a beautiful ball gown. It feels like it’s been made for you the way it perfectly fits your body, the shade of yellow complimenting your skin tone, and the exquisite details that make the dress sparkle. There’s a giddiness in you as you go all out, fixing your hair and makeup for the first time in ages.

When Jungkook first sees you, his mouth falls open in surprise.

You start to feel a bit self-conscious when he doesn’t say anything. “I look silly, don’t I?”

“No! Not at all!” he quickly assures you with a laugh. “You look beautiful.”

As you wait in the east wing, Jungkook hops off ahead to inform the others that you’re ready. Music begins to play from the ballroom, and you take a deep breath in.

Tonight, you feel nervous, and you’re not entirely sure why. Every night, for the past six months, you’ve spent your evenings after dinner with Namjoon.

This time, it shouldn’t feel any different, except it does.

Careful of the steps, you slowly make your descent down the stairs. Once you’re at the middle landing, that’s when you see him.

Namjoon is also dressed up tonight, but he looks like a prince straight out of a fairytale story. As he steps down the stairs from the west wing to meet you, he stares at you in awe. Then, with a charming smile, he extends his arm toward you and asks, “Shall we?”

You smile back shyly and wrap your arm around his. Then, together, the two of you walk down the rest of the steps that lead to the ballroom.

It’s enchanting, the way the chandeliers glow and sparkle above you. Yoongi is on the piano and Taehyung on the violin. Seokjin and Jungkook are dancing together, giggling and goofing around, and Hoseok and Jimin are sitting together with an open bottle of champagne shared between them. 

You feel their gazes on you and Namjoon the moment you two enter. Even Yoongi and Taehyung momentarily stop playing as they look at you.

“Don’t mind them,” Namjoon whispers when he sees that you’re getting a little anxious from the attention. He takes one of your hands in his as his other hand holds your waist. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

Hoseok waves for the music to start again, and a romantic tune fills the ballroom. You and Namjoon start to dance together. It’s a bit clumsy at first. Namjoon winces every time he nearly steps on your feet and mumbles embarrassed apologies. But you smile and assure him that it’s okay, almost feeling like no one else is in the room except you and him.

After a while, Yoongi changes it from live music to songs from his playlist, still keeping the romantic atmosphere as Taehyung and Jimin dance together, and Hoseok stares at the leopard hybrid with eyes begging for a dance as well. You’d think Jungkook would want to cut in to dance with you at one point, but he still seems to be having fun with Seokjin and they copy each other’s silly dance moves.

“I’m going to step out for some fresh air,” you tell Namjoon, and he nods his head, saying he’ll go with you.

While the party continues inside, the two of you enter the balcony where the cold, night air hits your skin and makes you shiver. You feel his hand on the small of your back, rubbing you gently to keep you warm. And it works. You feel the heat on your face as the peaceful, beautiful night surrounds you two.

There’s a serious look in his eyes, as if he’s contemplating something, before he asks you, “Are you happy here? With me?”

“I am,” you reply honestly. You can’t thank Namjoon enough for taking you and Jungkook in that night of the storm, despite almost hurting one of his packmates. You can imagine a life without him and the other hybrids now either.

“Do you ever think about going back?”

“Sometimes,” you admit. You miss your family, and every now and then, you wonder how they’re doing. How much has changed in that small, provincial town since you left. You even think about Kangdae sometimes, though you’re certain he must be with another girl. They must all think you’re long gone by now. “I don’t think I will, though. I like being with you. And the others, of course.”

Namjoon smiles gently. “Then, I’m glad you stayed.”

“Me too.” You mean it, too. Your eyes meet Namjoon’s, and you can’t help but think of how pretty they are. How attractive he is. How you’re so tempted to just move a little closer and just—

“I have a confession to make.”

You feel your heart race. “What is it?”

“I think – I knew – from the moment I met you,” Namjoon begins, his voice soft. The strokes of his thumb on your back feel more intimate as his gaze falls on your lips. “You’re the one. You’re my—”

A commotion interrupts from below.

You hear Seokjin barking and snarling angrily, followed by the deep, rumbling growls from Taehyung and Yoongi. Voices are shouting. People you don’t recognize.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as you and Namjoon look over the balcony to see flashlights waving in the premise of the manor. Some of the hybrids are out there in their animal forms, warning the group of intruders to back away.

“Namjoon,” Hoseok interrupts, coming to the balcony with urgency in his eyes. “It’s the humans. They’re—”

A gunshot fires.

Your blood runs cold as the deadly sound rings in your ear.

And, to your horror, you hear a voice that you do recognize, shouting your name.

“Babe, I know you’re there!” Kangdae yells, looking up at you from where he stands. “Come down here and say hello! Or I’ll shoot your darling pets one by one.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

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[nian-7]

Could you please do A Jing Yuan full fluff alphabet? Thank youu!

yes!! i love jing yuan sm (cause you totally can't tell.) enjoy!

Jing Yuan x gn!reader

✧fluff alphabet

✧fluff

Affection

Jing Yuan is an affectionate man. Whether it be in public or private, there's some sort of affection. Whether his hand be intertwined with yours when you walk about or a gentle kiss on the lips when you come to visit him in his office.

Beauty

He absolutely loves your eyes. They're so pretty and he loves to gaze at them forever. He also adores your smile. Especially when you give him a gentle smile whenever you see him. It makes him smile back and make his day even better.

Comfort

He's so good at comforting. He listens, he gives advice, he gets you your favorite snack and a blanket. He's the whole package. However long it takes for you to feel better, he will listen as long as it takes for that to happen.

Domestic

Decently good at it even though he isn't home much. He can cook a meal and help you with simple tasks around the house whenever he can. He doesn't want to push all upon you as you are a busy person as well!

Fight

Jing Yuan tries his best to not have any sort of fights with you. What's the point when many things can be solved simply by talking it out? Yes, he understands that you can get angry and he'll listen to you vent it out at him until you calm down. No argument needed.

Gentle

One of the most gentle men you could meet. Every one of his touches are like feathers on your skin and his kisses are so soft that they tickle.

Hugs

A great hugger, he enjoys them. Other than kissing you, it's one of his go to greetings. He loves to pull you into his chest and just give you a smile at whatever expression you may be making.

Impression

He likely had seem you from afar before and never approached you since he had no need to. If you approached him, he'd gladly offer his help if needed. He didn't have much of an impression on you at first though.

Jealousy

Jing Yuan is the General, he shouldn't have to be jealous when many already know that you're taken. Although, he can get a bit jealous if you have spent a little more time with someone that him.

Kisses

Gentle and soft are the two best words to describe them. Anywhere on your face, always just tickling you when he gives you a light kiss on your cheek or the soft push of his lips onto yours makes you both smile contently.

Little Things

He absolutely adores everything about you. He loves the way that you have unconscious habits that you don't even realize you're doing. He notices them and always smiles as you look so focused on whatever you may be writing down.

Mornings

Usually, he's out of bed before you and getting ready. Sometimes he's not even there. There are rare occasions that he is still in bed with you when you wake up. He's always got an arm around you as he watches you peacefully cuddle up to him.

Nicknames

He has a vast array of nicknames he could call you and will use the one that fits the best. He'll try nearly everything he can think of until one just clicks. Sometimes, it'll change depending on his tone of voice as well, like if he were to tease you.

Open

Jing Yuan is pretty open with you. He'll tell you about his day if you ask and will try his best not to hide anything from you unless it is absolutely necessary.

Patience

He has the highest levels of patience with you. He'll take everything as slow or as fast as you'd like it. You've never kissed anyone before? Well, just let him know when you're ready to try it out. He'll be waiting for you.

Quirks

He does tend to fall asleep at his desk a lot and seems to only wake up if you walk in. If someone else walks in, he likely won't stir but will wake right up if you walk in. It's a little suspicious..

Romance

It comes quite naturally to him. He knows how to be romantic and it always gets you to feel butterflies in your stomach and a smile on your face. Flowers with a note attached are commonly left for you when he won't be able to see you later in the day.

Security

He is very protective over you. You're his and he protects you from dangers. He isn't protective to the point that it's overbearing but, he will protect you lots more than you think he is.

Try

Jing Yuan tries his absolute best to make everything work out and make sure that your comfortable with him. What kind of partner would he be if he didn't give the relationship any effort at all?

Ugly

He knows he's not home a lot to be able to give you the attention you deserve and he hates it. He'd like to be home more for you and just to simply relax and bask in the endless affection you both give and receive from him.

Vanity

As the esteemed General, he has to keep up his appearance even when it doesn't seem like he cares much about it. He spends a great deal of the morning getting ready.

Whole

He feels so much better knowing that you're safely beside him where nothing can harm you. He's not sure what he'd do with himself if he didn't have you in his life.

Yuck

If you can't be flexible with his schedule and work, he's not sure how the relationship will work out. He'd like for his s/o to be patient and understand that he is the General and has duties to attend to (even if he doesn't always attend to them..).

Zzz

Jing Yuan can fall asleep with ease. He doesn't mind staying up until you fall asleep or if you were to wake him up in the middle of the night because you can't sleep. He'll be there to help since he's able to fall asleep so quickly.

please do not repost any of my work without my permission, thank you for reading.

[imshymorph]

HI LOVE!!!! 🥺

if ur taking requests, could you pls do husband!Price with a reader who has ADHD? I myself have ADHD and am extremely forgetful, and tend to feel emotions more intensely than others, which means I cry a lot and get told I’m over sensitive haha 🥺❤️❤️😭

Hi darling! My requests are open, I'm just loaded up with uni work. So sorry it took over a week for me to answer. (But if you don’t mind the wait, 100% send in requests!!). I hope I portrayed it properly, I kind of fall in the adhd spectrum myself but it can really vary from one person to another, so I hope it's relatable!

Anyway, here’s some soft!Price with ADHD!reader

I think he’d notice pretty early on, maybe not specifically labelling it as ADHD, but he’d pick up on the forgetfulness and how quick it could change to a hyperfixation. I think he’s observant enough that he’d kind of be able to pinpoint the moment in your thought process where you jump from the thing you just said you were going to do to whatever other task popped in your mind that pulls you away from it.- - - - -

He would grow used to it pretty quickly, used to sharing space with all kinds of people at base and adapting himself to better work with them. I also lowkey headcanon that Soap has ADHD so he’d already have an idea on how to work around it and some strategies in place to help you with it. 

Although I think his main worry would be supporting you with the emotional side that comes with it. He’d be there for you at any time. It doesn’t matter what it is, he’ll dry your tears and talk with you about it. If you don’t want to talk or maybe it’s one of those days where you don’t even know why you’re crying, then he’ll just hold you close for a bit and help you get distracted when you feel better. 

I think that even if he doesn’t fully understand it, he can get a grasp on how overwhelming it can get. He’d notice when you’re starting to get frustrated, when your brain just can’t find something that releases enough oxytocin to keep you entertained for long enough. He’d swipe in then, bringing up one of your special interests or one of the hobbies you gave up on a few months back, to see if it sparks some joy again. If it doesn’t he’ll find something new that you both can try together or somewhere to go and explore. 

And don’t  you dare apologise for any of it, he’d give you a full on scolding on how it’s not something to apologise for. (That’s who you are and who he loves, darling). He doesn’t care that you forgot to close the kitchen cupboard for the fifth time this week, nor that the clean dishes still sit on the dishwasher, nor the pile of folded clothes that still sit on top of the dresser. He’s happy to have you with him, to share space with you and he’d take a messy living room and arrive late to your reservations on date night every single time if it means he’s with you. 

Also, he’d absolutely change things around the house and in his schedule if it means it makes things easier for you. He’ll change the organisation in all drawers and cupboards that need it so it’ll be easier for you to remember to put everything in its place. He’ll sit with you while you do work or chores, having casual conversation to keep you entertained and focused while you finish. Will sit there for hours if he has to, listening to you infodump about whatever thing your brain has last fixated on. And hold you for as long as you need when your emotions get too much and make you cry, one warm hand on your hip to hold you close while the other rubs your back. 

And relating to the crying. Poor soul, the one who dares to call you oversensitive in his presence. He’d absolutely rip them a new one, ready to start a physical fight if it is necessary because (how dare you judge his love for something out of their control). As soon as he’s satisfied with the scolding the other person got, his full attention is back on you. 

He’d pull you close, cup your cheeks and gently dry your tears with his thumbs. A small smile appearing on his lips, “don’t listen to them, love. You’re perfect just like this.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and lightly pinches your cheeks to get a smile from you. “Come on, let’s go home so you can tell me more about those books you have been reading.”

And the way your small pout and teary eyes change to a smile makes his heart soar. He throws an arm over your shoulders and holds you close as the both of you walk home, happily listening about the character arch of one of the main characters you tell him about. He’s already planning on wrapping you up on your favourite blanket on the couch while he gets ready some of your comfort food, how you’ll eat it together while you cuddle and watch one of your favourite shows or movies. 

[deakyjoe]

Somebody’s Watching Me Part 11

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her, British, backstory)

Category: slowburn coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: Feelings are finally revealed in the face of mortal danger. Some good, some bad.

Warnings: British terminology/slang, strong language, injury detail, war/death, mask is off and on, angst, canon-typical violence, mentions of stalking, sexual references

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: This took me two weeks to write. For a not very long chapter. Also, I hate it. Enjoy!

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Things became complicated. More so than they already were. The range of emotions you were feeling was making life difficult. You couldn't concentrate. The most simple of tasks were becoming far more complex than they ever should be because your mind was focusing on one particular subject.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley.

He'd ruined you. Ruined your life. Ruined everything.

It didn't help that he knew it either.

"You still haven't forgiven me yet, have you?" He uttered one evening after you'd spent the last hour or two trying to forget everything that had happened through the simple will of human touch and physical affection.

Your voice was soft when you replied, almost reluctant but not quite. "No."

"Okay." He was beginning to become more accepting of the situation. Maybe finally realising that what he'd done was not just bad. But terrible. Morally awful. No matter his initial intentions.

In short, he was starting to feel guilty. Really guilty. And not just about being caught. But he didn't quite know how to express this to you. And whilst you could see that he was becoming more understanding and could appreciate that, his inability to actually show this to you or even say it meant that forgiveness was not quite ready to be dished out.

You stayed rather quiet around him now, often silent. Never rambling like you used to. He missed the incessant chatter constantly spilling out of your mouth. Sometimes he'd walk into a room with you in it, and you'd be talking to Soap or Gaz, and spouting words like there was no tomorrow. But you hushed yourself as soon as his presence was detected. It was like you were uncomfortable speaking around him now, as if you didn't want him to know more than what was absolutely necessary about you. He knew why and he hated it.

And he didn't miss the way you avoided looking at him whenever he had the mask on. That would've been fine, many people didn't like looking at him with it on as they tended to find it intimidating, but whenever it was off you always made a point of making eye contact. The most burning, piercing eye contact of his life. And he knew why you did it. You were looking at Simon, not Ghost, Simon. He hated that too.

But it prompted another question out of him another day. "You love Simon?"

The question was odd but you understood why it was being asked, your eyes opening blearily as you answered. "Yes."

"Not Ghost?" He pushed.

"You're..." You hesitated and sighed, face scrunching in thought. "You're one in the same to me. Almost. But I fell in love with Simon first."

A startling realisation hit him. "But I don't even know who Simon is."

You mumbled something under your breath and looked at him, his glazed over eyes and forehead slicked with sweat matching yours. "Then maybe figure it out before you ask me for forgiveness."

It was biting, a low blow even, but he knew why you said it. And he thought you had a point. He hated that you had a point. Simon Riley was used to being right, always having the upper hand in situations because most of the time he knew he was correct. This privilege did not extend to you. Why? Because you were always more right than he was. And it was made worse by the fact that you were good. Morally good and just... good in general. Simon knew he couldn't fight you, especially now, because he knew that you were right and good. Meaning the situation was entirely in your hands. All he could do was await forgiveness, if you ever even decided to bless him with it.

So, even though you seemed to be spending countless hours with each other whenever you could spare the time, it felt as if the two of you hadn't really hung out properly in a while and bonded. They were just more stolen moments in his office and sometimes supply cupboards. Nothing with substance. You were trying to keep your distance as much as possible so he could figure himself out, a few weak moments of needed pleasure from him thrown in here and there, and he was trying to keep his distance to allow you the time to calm down from what he'd done whilst he collected his thoughts to grant you a proper apology, taking the random opportunities for closeness when you offered them his way.

The main problem with this though was that neither of you were succeeding in what you were supposed to be doing. Simon wasn't managing to collect his thoughts in any coherent manner in order to extend an apology and you were not calming down after the effects of his weird behaviour. As much as you wanted to forgive him for purely selfish reasons, it just was not as easy as you hoped it would be. Turns out you had more self-respect for yourself than previously estimated. 

It was obvious to outside eyes, other than Ghost's, that the turmoil raging inside of you was taking over your mind. Even if you didn’t want it to.

Soap found you one day in the rec room, stretched out across a chair with headphones over your ears and a pout on your lips. "Are you alright, hen? What's with the sad face?"

You'd just managed to hear him over the music and had ripped the headphones from your head and looked up at him with wide eyes. "ABBA are taunting me."

His eyebrows had scrunched in confusion but an amused smirk had curled the corners of his lips. "ABBA?"

"ABBA." You reiterated, slightly more deadpan and serious now.

Soap sat down on the arm of the chair and looked over your shoulder. "What song are you listening to?"

"SOS." You sighed and pouted again, thinking of the lyrics.

"Oh... here, let me just-" He picked up your phone and started scrolling through the playlist.

"If you play Chiquitita I am going to cut your dick off and feed it to you." You snapped, completely sincere with the threat.

He dropped your phone and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, forget it then."

You groaned and stood from the chair, extending your arms above your head. "I'm sorry. Just in a bad mood recently."

"I have noticed. But it's okay. I know things have been bad with Ghost." Soap watched you walk towards the fridge, pausing for a split second at the mention of your lieutenant. That made him smile slightly.

"He's really fucked me over, y'know?" You called back over your shoulder, ignoring whatever quip he bit back with.

And when you opened the fridge door, you were greeted by a sight that both horrified and amazed you. Stacks and stacks of apple juice. Bottles of it, cartons of it, even cans of it. There was no mistaking that this was Simon's doing. Some strange, little way of apologising and proving something to you. It was unclear in your heart whether it was endearing or irritating. Maybe it was just both.

You exhaled heavily and grabbed one of the bottles, recognising it as somehow being one from the farmers' market. How he'd managed to get it out here, you had no idea. But you guessed he had his ways.

"He's fucking crazy." You turned back to look at Soap who was failing to suppress the grin on his face. "What? What are you smiling about?"

"Gifts. It's a love language."

"Oh, fuck off, MacTavish." You scoffed and threw the bottle at him where he barely managed to catch it. "Do you think I should say something to him?"

"Depends how much you want to make him pay, hen."

"I'll keep quiet about it for now." You decided. It's not like you were taunting Ghost, which is what Soap thought you were doing as a way to torture him, you were just extending the punishment into what you thought was fit. It would be over once you truly belived he'd paid for what he did wrong and had apologised profusely. Honestly, a small part of you wanted to see how far he'd go to achieve forgiveness. To see how much you were really worth to him.

But then he had to go and fuck up that plan by walking into the room just as you were grabbing another bottle of apple juice for yourself.

The two of you stood still on opposite sides of the room, like deer frozen in headlights, with Soap right in the middle ready to be mediator if necessary but mostly just waiting to see how this would play out.

One of the downsides of the mask, that he insisted on wearing, was that you couldn't easily read Simon. There were no visible facial expressions. Only what he gave away with his eyes and the little skin you could see around his eyes. And now he was too far away to see properly. So you had to gauge this on his body language alone. He was stiff and unmoving, that much was clear. But that was typical Ghost.

You raised the apple juice bottle in the air awkwardly. "This was you?"

You knew it was. And he knew you knew. So he only nodded in response.

"Thank you." You pushed out, ignoring Soap's stifled giggles. "This- this is nice of you."

He shrugged. "You're welcome, Sarge."

You'd given up on reprimanding him about the nickname. It wasn't like he planned on giving it up anytime soon no matter how much you told him to stop calling you that. Besides, it seemed like everyone on the base appeared to have at least some fraction of an idea about what was happening between the two of you even if they didn't have the full story. You blamed word of mouth and two gossips whose names would not be mentioned.

Nothing else was said after that. Simon made himself a cup of tea and silently left the room, avoiding you very obviously staring at him as he went.

"I don't know what to do." You confessed to Soap once you were convinced that Ghost was very much out of earshot.

"I don't think he does either." Your Scottish friend added with a head tilt in the direction of where your lieutenant just went.

"I so badly want to forgive him but just... can't. And I don't know how to explain how I'm feeling." You confessed, burying your face into your hands.

"Talk it out with him."

"It might surprise you to hear this, but he's not much of a talker." You snorted, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes so hard that you saw stars.

"Okay, so you talk and he listens. Then he begs for you to take him back. Easy." Soap suggested and poked you in the centre of your forehead to emphasise his point.

As you slapped his hand away with a roll of your eyes, you realised that maybe he had a point. And a good point at that. You could talk. Simon was always saying how much you loved to talk and how you could talk enough for the both of you, able to keep a conversation going without anyone else saying a word. Filling in the blanks and awkward silences was your strong suit. So, yeah. You could talk at him and have him listen until you were done and ready to let him beg for forgiveness. That was doable. So that's what you would do. Now, only to suggest the idea to the man himself...

It only took a couple of days, well actually almost a week, before you mustered up the courage to broach the subject with him. It happened after a briefing for your next mission which you barely paid attention to, as usual, and Ghost appeared very shocked that you were choosing to talk to him as you dragged him into an empty room where he immediately removed his mask.

"I have something to say and I need you to keep quiet until I'm done, okay?" You asked and he nodded simply. "I don't even know why I'm asking. I know you're very good at keeping quiet. It's one of your many skills actually. Anyway..."

Knocking yourself back into your original thought process, you failed to notice the smirk that Simon was sending you over your inability to stay on track and not stray away on tangents. He loved you so much. And all the little things that made you you.

"We need to figure this out because not knowing how I'm feeling about you is killing me. Yes, I'm in love with you but I also hate you right now and I don't know what to do about it. So we need to talk. Properly. You need to explain everything to me completely truthfully and then I'll consider forgiving you. And I need to attempt to express my emotions so you can grasp some understanding of it all. Does that sound fair?" You asked, breathless after rambling for too long.

He nodded again. "It does."

"Great. So stay alive."

He looked perplexed. "What?"

"We're doing it after this mission. I need you alive for this. So stay alive." You waved your hand around as if it were obvious.

"Sarge, I-" He cut himself off when he saw the genuine look of concern on your features.

"I might not pay attention in briefings but even I could tell Price was nervous. Like... like we're not all expected to make it back. More than usual." You paused. "This conversation and my potential forgiveness are incentives to keep you alive."

Simon wanted to kiss you. "Alright."

"And- and I don't want you dead."

Simon could double kiss you. "Got it. Don't want you dead either."

"If you die then I'll have to bring you back just to kill you. So no selfish heroic moves, alright?" You pointed a finger at him, completely serious.

He tried to hide the smile that was threatening to crack his face. He was getting his Sarge back and, as much as you didn't want to allow that to happen, it could not be denied any longer.

"I'm not much of a hero, Sarge. So I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement about this."

You scoffed at him, willing to play into his game. "Maybe that's what you think. But I don't need you sacrificing yourself just because you think you're not worth saving when we've finally decided to talk this all out. I won't let you get out of it that easily."

"Ah, you see right through me." He raised his hands in mock surrender, waving the metaphorical white flag as he gave in to your suggestions. You were right, as usual, afterall. "Okay, fine. No dying and we'll talk afterwards. Or you'll talk and I'll do some listening and maybe a little begging."

"A lot of begging. I want you on your knees demanding forgiveness out of me. I won't settle for any less."

"I've been on my knees for you before." He observed, thinking back on scenarios in your flat when the two of you didn't quite make it to your bedroom. And times when you did. "I'm sure I could do it again."

"Oh, haha. Very funny, Riley." You added sarcastically, knowing exactly what he was remembering. The ideas made heat rush to the surface of your skin. "I'm not joking. I want a genuine conversation."

"I know, Sarge." Simon sighed. "And I'm very willing to give it to you. More than you could possibly know."

That shocked you. "Fine. Good. Great, even. Then... then we'll do that."

"Looking forward to it."

But, of course, he had to break that simple promise.

"Simon!" Your voice echoed around the room, loud but still distant, and he ignored it. He couldn't drag you into this, couldn't risk you too.

In short, he'd been shot. A couple of times actually. And he was on the floor bleeding out and willing to sacrifice himself for the safety of the rest of the team. He was doing exactly what you'd asked him not to. He believed that if he ignored you for long enough then you'd give up and go away, leave him to die in peace with the hope that you would have forgiven him if things had gone differently.

But unfortunately for him you were persistent, he'd argue stubborn, and you weren't giving up until you found him. Which you did quicker than he anticipated. When you stumbled into the room, you were relieved to find him still conscious but curled up against a wall in obvious pain.

"Aw shit, Simon..." You rushed over to him and collapsed by his side, pressing one hand into the wound on his leg and the other hand over the one on his stomach. "What did you do this for?"

"I didn't get shot on purpose." He argued back, knowing exactly what you really meant.

"Simon..." The blood spilling from between your fingers was worrying. "Can you walk?"

"Yes, that's why I'm sitting here." He huffed back, dry humour still intact, and winced when the action made the damaged flesh stretch in an uncomfortable manner. "Listen, Sarge-"

"Nuh uh, not now." You shook your head at him, voice dropping into a warning tone. "We need to get you out of here first."

"And I'm trying to tell you that I don't think that's happening." He wheezed as more blood poured from him and his vision blurred slightly.

"You promised me a conversation and a proper apology, Simon Swayze. Didn't you?"

He smiled at the nickname. "I did. And I'm sorry to be breaking that promise."

"You're not. Because I'm getting you out of here even if I have to carry your six foot four butt out of here myself." You hooked an arm around his torso and used your legs to plant yourself firmly on the floor to drag the two of you up. Somehow, with a great deal of determination and adrenaline, you managed to get the both of you in a standing position where you immediately rested against the wall to gain a proper sense of balance. You couldn't lose him, not now. Not when you were so close to fixing everything.

"You're strong, Sarge." The words were slurred as the blood loss was making Ghost minutely delirious.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Now let's go." Steeling your body for his weight, you pushed off the wall and started forward through the rubble.

He didn't pay much attention to where you were going. It wasn't like he could give much input into whether or not you were going in the correct direction as he was quickly losing comprehension of the situation.

"Sarge...?" He mumbled next to you, head drooping to awkwardly lean against yours.

"Yes...?" You mimicked his tone in the hopes of brightening the situation. But it was going to take a lot more than that to actually succeed in doing so.

"Love... you..."

You let out a sudden laugh, short and snappy. "What a fantastic fucking place for a love confession. So fucking romantic, Lieutenant Riley. Really. You've outdone yourself."

"Sorry." 

The apology was mumbled, but genuine. You knew he couldn't help it. Serious blood loss and shock from injuries could really make you say the craziest of things. It just would've been nice if the first proper time he told you he loved you was not where either of you could die at any second.

"It's okay, Simon." You offered back, meaning it truthfully, as you adjusted your grip on him and dragged him along.

You ignored the burn in your own legs from carrying the weight of two and navigated your way through the building. Gunfire echoed in your ears as you weaved your way through the corridors, feeling a pinch or two as maybe a couple of bullets grazed you. But you couldn't focus on that. You could only focus on getting you and Ghost to safety, mostly Ghost. He was more important than you in this scenario, in all scenarios really. At least, he was most important to you no matter what. No matter the fuck ups, no matter the trials and tribulations that he caused and therefore put you both through. As much as you hated to admit it due to what he'd done, you needed to hear him out and let the apologies be accepted as he was important to you. You loved him too fucking much to suddenly lose him now.

And when you cleared the building, and heard someone scream your names, you allowed yourself to collapse to the floor after depositing Simon onto another pair of shoulders and fade into the blackness as blood slowly seeped out from the several bullet wounds you had been blissfully ignoring. He was safe. That’s all that mattered.

A/N: There should only be one more chapter and then the epilogue after this :)

[redtsundere-writes]

Would you consider continuing sukunaxservant? I’m in love with that au 💗💗💗

🥺👉👈 I beg

Hiya! Since you guys and Wattpad ate up my King!Sukuna x Servant!Reader one-shots, I decided to turn it into a series on Wattpad and AO3!

The first 4 one-shots (Ear Cleaning, Ribs, Blood Bath and Eyes on Me) will be included, but they'll be longer and better. So if you like any of those caught your attention, please check out the full version :) Thank you for the support!

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

PICK YOUR FAVORITE!

AO3 or Wattpad?

CHAPTER 1 PREVIEW! ↆ

Sukuna walked through the corridors illuminated by the dark sun that ruled among the kingdoms. His long, heavy footsteps made the marble floor rumble under his weight. His sharp profile, tattooed shoulders and large body, contrasted by the reddish sky of the cursed land, terrifying any small human who encountered him. He was a king who could control anything thanks to the terror that his large body and absolute power conveyed. He had the power on his hands to kill whatever and whenever he wanted like an omnipotent god, but he liked to watch his rats run from one side to the other to obey his mercy. It amused him to play with his servants to the point of making them cry, tremble or, in extreme cases, commit suicide. He had plenty of servants, so he could afford to kill as many as he wanted. The poor uniformed humans trembled if his dark eyes rested on them. They all tried to dodge him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears. 

Being a monster with senses sharpened to the max, he hated having his ears touched, but it was necessary for him to clean them to have his five senses ready for any battle. He is not someone ticklish, but his ears are the most sensitive part of his entire body. He could clean his own ears himself, but what kind of almighty, omnipotent king would clean his own ears when others could do it?

His eyes navigated through the long and endless corridors of the terrifying castle where he lived with all his subjects. The king's home was a place where darkness, cold, and uncertainty dominated the atmosphere. Even though it was surrounded by luxuries, it felt more like a secret attic than a castle fit for a king. Silver chandeliers, red candles parading on the walls and furniture upholstered with exotic fabrics from around the world decorated each room that was commonly surrounded by portraits made by hundreds of artists who feared for their lives. 

His predatory eyes sought out the first poor servant that crossed his path. He heard the bristles of a broom being scrubbed against the floor. Sukuna spotted a small figure sweeping one of the guest rooms. There you were, humming a song softly from your childhood as you made the broom dance from side to side. You were so focused on your task that you didn't notice the king standing dangerously close to you. As you turned around, you suddenly bumped into his imposing body, giving you a mini heart attack. Dressed in elegant robes, gold rings on each finger and with a wicked grin on his face, he was looking at you as if you were a despicable creature he could get rid of in the blink of an eye. 

You are the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the entire castle. You had not been living there for more than two months, so your direct interactions with the king had been few. Sukuna saw you from head to toe. He remembered you perfectly from the day he met you. Your neatly combed pigtails with two white bows showed off your innocence, the corset accentuated your small waist and the long brown skirt covered your promising legs. He accepted it, you were cute. Other than that, you were a disgusting human like everyone else, but there was something about you that caught his attention. Sukuna didn't know exactly what it was that you had. For the time being, he would continue to treat you as you deserved for being a nasty rat. Immediately, you knelt before your majesty. Your head rested in your hands against the freshly swept floor, your fingers barely touching his feet because of the closeness. 

“Are you having fun?” Sukuna asked, sarcastic. 

“No, my king,” you answered quickly, avoiding making eye contact. 

Sukuna placed one of his bare feet on your back. The oppressive weight crushed you against the cold floor. You prayed inwardly that your bones wouldn't start to creak. You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. Having satisfied his need to make the new maid see who her master is, he removed his foot from your agonized back. You took a deep breath to fill your lungs with air again. 

“To my room. Now,” he ordered without deigning to look at you before leaving the room. You remained on the floor, slowly catching your breath. A metal taste touched your tongue. You bit your lower lip so hard what it was bleeding.

FULL CHAPTER ON WATTPAD / AO3!

[heyiwrotesomethings]

🐉 anon here! I hope you're doing alright! I hope these request won't be too much! Would it be okay if you wrote about Shinobu with a s/o, she/her, who has that dragon tattoo? Possibly a criminal syndicate but wants to leave her family because of how bad they have gotten! The family found her at a younge age and took her in, becoming the imitating woman she is. But what her boss asks of her is too much and not what she wants to do. So she tries to leave and stagger away from the family, meeting Shinobu in the process! She would be seen as a monster, but she really does have a good heart. Maybe even a slow burn with Shinobu? Those are my favorites! While she stays or keeps meeting Shinobu, the family finds her and roughs her up, she kicks thier ass but ends up being taking down. The boss would come in and try to cut her pinkie off, but Shinobu comes in being the badass queen that she is and deals with him herself, and saves her s/o, with a happy ending! Again, I hope this isn't too much to ask! I love your work!

What Is Right

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: Here you go, sorry it took so long! I hope it’s alright, I am having trouble with the December requests that are left. 😫 Word Count: 5,640

“Aniki, are you sure about this? Is there really no other way?”

“Of course not,” Akira scrutinized his adopted younger sister, put off by her reluctance, “That cowardly man’s betrayal killed my father, our father.” He hissed, crushing the remains of his cigarette in his hand, ignoring the burn.

“Then, if it’s absolutely necessary, shouldn’t it just be him who has to pay?” (Y/n) risked speaking out against him yet again, “Why kill his family, but leave him be?”

“It sends a message!” Akira shouted, “He’ll know not to fuck with us again. He’ll be forced to confront what he took from me, us. Don’t you understand, (Y/n)? That’s why I’m telling you this.” He grasped her shoulder a little to tightly to be friendly or comforting. “I’m trusting you to bring honor back to this family. That dragon tattoo on your back isn’t just for show, its supposed to mean something. It’s what unites all of us. Otosan loved you like you were his own flesh and blood. If you want this band of misfits, your family, to continue to have a legacy, you will do this.”

“But, they’re only little kids. Not even his wife knows the shady shit he’s dealing in. And it’s not just that… we’ve been pushing away our allies with the decisions you’ve been making in Otosan’s stead—“

“Do you think this is easy?!” Akira shouted again, getting in (Y/n)’s face, she stayed remarkably calm despite this, “I was chosen to make the choices that no one else has the guts to make! This is what has to be done!”

“I just can’t do it, Aniki.” (Y/n) shook her head, “It’s more than and eye for an eye to me. I think you’re asking for too much.”

“You either do this, or you will be marked as a scourge on this family. The family that gave you everything when you had nothing. You think you repaid us for that debt yet?” He asked coldly.

“I doubt I ever could.” (Y/n) murmured, focusing on her breathing to keep a calm appearance, “I’ll… prepare then.”

Akira searched her eyes for a long moment before straightening up again, “Good. Go on, then. I expect results. You have a week.”

“Very well.” (Y/n) bowed before the young man who had used to be so carefree, then got up and took her leave.

***

It had been a couple days since (Y/n) had that meeting with Akira, and she had yet to carry out her mission. She had shadowed the happily unaware family in that time, and it only made the reality of what she had to do even harder.

She was running out of time, only a few more days before her once beloved Aniki would call her back and put her through god knows what for disobeying him. So she decided to do what any decent person tasked with killing a burgeoning family would do, and got wasted. If she couldn’t do it sober, perhaps she could do it drunk.

But of course that plan went south quickly. Instead of gearing herself up for a bloodbath she was drunkenly sobbing in the izakaya. She had never had to kill anyone before, hustle and intimidate, rough-up, sure, but never with the intent to irreversibly maim or kill. The very public moral dilemma (Y/n) was having was finally brought outside when the owner of the establishment cut her off and sent on her way, leaving her to drunkenly stumble down the road alone.

She barely knew where she was, but that didn’t stop her from picking a direction and lumbering away. She didn’t really care where she’d end up. She wasn’t going to be welcomed back to the family unless she had carried out her job, and she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She knew she’d never be able to go through with it.

“What am I supposed to do?”

Her foot rolled over a pebble as she said this and unable to correct herself, she fell sideways, half in the path, half in the woods. Instead of attempting to get up, she just laid there. Not long after her tumble, she heard the crunch of gravel from the main path, the sound eventually coming to a stop right where she had fallen.

“Oh dear, have we had a little too much to drink tonight?”

(Y/n) managed to sit up on her elbows a bit so she could peer back into the path and her breath caught in her throat. Standing over her was a downright ethereal woman. Oh no, had she hit her head on a jagged rock on the way down? Had she died? Well, that put an end to one dilemma at least.

“Woah,” She said, oh so eloquently, “beautiful.”

“Oh my, thank you.” She chuckled, causing (Y/n)’s heart to stutter. “Here, give me your hands, let me help you up.”

(Y/n) didn’t need to be asked twice, she took hold of the strangers hands, a little more calloused than she would have imagined, and clumsily rose to her feet, almost falling back down a few times in the process.

“You can hardly even stand up. We had better get you home so you can sleep this off. I hope you will have learned your lesson about such heavy drinking when you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.”

Home… (Y/n) sobered just a bit.

“I, I can’t go home!” (Y/n)’s shoulders drooped and the buzz she had going fell flat, “I have no home to go back to anymore.”

The woman gave her a sympathetic look then seemed to be contemplating something before finally speaking again.

“Then I suppose you can stay with me for the night. It’s too dangerous to be out alone at night sober, much less drunk.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll manage.”

“Don’t be difficult,” the woman sighed, “either walk with me, or I’ll drag you along. Your choice.”

(Y/n) laughed half-heartedly. “The way my feet keep tripping up you’ll probably have to drag me anyway.”

“I can see that.” She smirked, putting one of (Y/n)’s arms over her shoulders to help her keep her balance.

“My name is (Y/n) by the way.”

“And mine is Shinobu.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shinobu.”

Shinobu hummed, but did not outwardly share the sentiment and somewhere in (Y/n)’s drunk brain she had the sense to be a bit embarrassed. What a wonderful first impression she had made, laying on the side of the road, drunk off her ass.

“I swear this is not normal behavior for me, you just caught me at a really bad time.”

“I’m not judging you, we all deal with grief in our own ways.” Shinobu told her.

“Grief?”

“Based on the puffiness around your eyes and the way the moon catches on your cheeks, how sore your voice sounds, you have been crying a lot, haven’t you?” She clinically deduced.

Grief… that would be an apt way to describe what (Y/n) had been feeling since her adoptive father had been killed, since everything she thought she knew about her family had crumbled in his absence. How Akira was spiraling in the name of revenge. How heavy and constricting the ink engraved upon her back felt as the days dragged on. How quickly things had changed.

Shinobu led her to an incredible mansion that she couldn’t help but gawk at. The inside was just as impressive. She had half the mind to ask Shinobu if she was a noblewoman, but by the time she had recovered enough to ask, she had already been led to a guest room.

“Drink this water and then rest. I will see you in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Shinobu gave a short nod and smiled before closing the door.

(Y/n) staggered into the cot and fell into a sleep like death mere moments later.

***

The next morning, almost afternoon, actually, (Y/n) awoke with a brain splitting pain. She could hear whispering around her, but they might as well have been screaming. She groaned pitifully and weakly attempted to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Oh! She’s waking up.”

“Is Shinobu-sama’s medicine ready?”

“I have it right here. Excuse me… Can you sit up please? We have medicine for your headache.”

(Y/n) grunted, slowly sitting up and then putting her head in her hands. Her head was swimming and she immediately wanted to lay back down, but a cup of sludgy looking medicine was soon put under her nose.

“Make sure to drink it all.”

“The smell may be off-putting, but it works really well.”

“Once you get some food and water in you, you’ll feel a lot better.”

Beyond the smelly hangover cure, (Y/n) could smell something good enough to make her mouth water. With great resolve, she downed the medicine and suppressed a gag, finally looking up at the three young girls working around her.

“Thanks,” she sighed, “sorry, I’m normally not such a mess.”

“Shinobu-sama said you were going through a difficult time. We aren’t judging.” The girl with pink butterfly clips promised.

“Here,” the girl with pigtails offered her a generous tray of food, “eat up.”

“You’ll feel better in no time.” The girl with braided hair smiled.

“Thank you all so much, really. This is fantastic.” (Y/n) said between bites.

“We will be sure to let Aoi-san know you enjoyed her cooking.” The girls beamed.

As (Y/n) ate, she chatted with the girls, learning all about the Butterfly Estate and all of its inhabitants. She also learned about the mansion’s purpose, to provide shelter and care to the injured. After her meal had settled, (Y/n) felt almost normal. There was still a bit of a dull throbbing in her skull every once in awhile, but given how much she drank the night before, it was amazing how much good that medicine did for her. She didn’t want to go back to her reality. She wished she didn’t have to leave this oasis.

“So, where is Shinobu now? I wanted to thank her before I left.” (Y/n) asked once she helped the girls clean and prepare the room for any new guests that may need it.

“Oh, she had something come up earlier this morning so she couldn’t come by to check on you herself.” Kiyo explained.

“She probably won’t be back until much later in the evening.” Sumi nodded.

“But we will make sure to let her know when she comes back.” Naho promised.

(Y/n)’s shoulders slumped slightly with disappointment. She had made such a poor first impression, she was hoping to end on a good note at least. There was also the fact that every moment (Y/n) was here, was another moment away from facing her reality. Maybe she could stall just a little bit longer.

“I’d really like to tell her myself… ah! What if I helped you guys with your work until she gets back? Would that be alright? Then I could really show my gratitude to you all.”

The girls gave it a little thought, but saw no harm in getting a little extra help for the day, so they happily agreed. (Y/n) spent the rest of the day sweeping, dusting and washing bedding. She was a little clumsy, and bit too rough and almost ripped the sheets she was scrubbing, but she got the hang of it. It was a lot different from the work her adoptive father would give her.

As she worked, she found out there was more to this infirmary than met the eye. She learned about demon slayers and was fascinated by their cause. It all seemed so noble to her, risking their lives to save unaware people like her from demons who roamed the night. She owed Shinobu more than she knew for last night.

When Shinobu came home around dinner time, she was surprised to see her guest was still there and even more surprised when said guest fell to her knees before her, thanking her so thoroughly for her good deed. Stunned, she blinked slowly then worked her mildly surprised expression back into a kind, yet reserved smile.

“Oh my, you are much more chipper than you were last night. Thank you very much, but please stand, there is no need for any of that.”

(Y/n) stood, but let it be known how much Shinobu deserved every second of praise and appreciation. She bowed again, but only at the waist. It was at that point the younger girls decided to chime in, telling Shinobu about all the tasks (Y/n) had helped them with during the day, so of course Shinobu offered to let her stay for dinner as well, and since the sky was darkening, she invited her to stay another night. Before they knew it, an extra night became two, then three, then—

(Y/n) was running out of time. Her week was almost up, just one more day. She had a decision to make, and she wasn’t sure why it had taken her so long to get to this point, as there was only one correct course of action.

Early that morning, she leapt out of bed to make the treck back to the city. She would come back, of course. She promised Shinobu she would fix all of the clunky sliding doors around the mansion today. She silently thanked the stars for the millionth time that she crossed paths, er, fell into the path of such an extraordinary woman. She was going to follow Shinobu’s example and live a life she could be proud of, a life her adoptive father would have been proud of.

“You’re up early.”

(Y/n) nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Shinobu call to her from the engawa, a cup of tea in hand.

“When I told you the doors could wait until the morning, I didn’t mean dawn.” She teased.

“Ah, right, but I’m actually heading to the city. I have some affairs to get in order, but I promise I’ll take care of those doors as soon as I get back.”

“Is that so? Well then, safe travels. Be back before nightfall and stay away from any alcohol while you’re out.”

“I’m telling you that was a one time thing!” (Y/n) said in an exasperated tone.

Shinobu chuckled and (Y/n) smiled despite the jab.

“I’ll be back later in the afternoon, try not to work too hard!” (Y/n) sent Shinobu a wave, then bounded off of the engawa and left the estate grounds.

When she made it to the city, she kept a low profile, staking out a certain home as she had earlier in the week. At this time, the man who had killed her adoptive father with his cowardice and big mouth was busy at his day job while his wife took care of the children at home.

She took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. When the wife answered, (Y/n) asked to come inside and explained all that her shady husband had been up to and why it was important for her to take her kids and leave the city as soon as possible.

(Y/n) expected to have to persuade the woman further, force her out the door if necessary, but it seemed she already had her suspicions about her husband’s strange behavior. Hearing gossip about people seeing him in the Red Light District, and him claiming they had barely enough money to make ends meet despite the large amount of money she had found hidden away in the back of one of his drawers. She had been waiting for answers before doing anything rash, but (Y/n) provided her the last bit of incentive she needed to skip town with her kids and take her unfaithful husband’s money with her. Her parents still lived in a little known mountain village a couple weeks journey from the city, they would go there.

(Y/n) helped the woman and her children pack up their most precious belongings and got them a ride that would take them to the city limits where a carriage would be awaiting them next. When (Y/n) saw their car disappear around the corner, she left the crowded city herself, finally allowing herself to really breathe for the first time all week. There was no turning back, but that was fine. She felt so much lighter.

She couldn’t risk showing her face around town any more than she already had today. It wouldn’t take long before her betrayal was discovered and Akira would send the clan after her. What her punishment would be, she was not sure. However, under Akira’s harsh leadership, she was sure it would not be pleasant.

She stomped down the anxiety fluttering within her. She was on a better path now. No more shady shit, she wanted to put her strength to good use. She was going to ask Shinobu about becoming a demon slayer once she returned to the mansion. When she got back and took care of the doors like she promised she would, she did just that and asked Shinobu about becoming a demon slayer. Shinobu didn’t seem surprised by (Y/n)’s interest, but she did try to dissuade her from taking that path. However, with passion and persistence, she did finally manage to get Shinobu to give in and introduce her to a cultivator.

“But… I thought you were going to teach me.” (Y/n) had sheepishly admitted when Shinobu dropped her off on the first day.

“To start all the way at the beginning with the fundamentals of proper swordsmanship and Water Breathing would be… how can I say this kindly… tedious and not worth my time.” She answered with a mischievous smile.

“That didn’t sound kind at all!”

“I’ll tell you what, you do well, and I’ll give you a supplemental lesson here and there.”

“I’ll hold you to it!”

And in the next few months, (Y/n) learned a lot. When the time for the next Final Selection came around, she would be well prepared. Between what the Water Breathing cultivator taught her and what Shinobu refined with her own expertise, she felt confident in what she could accomplish. Maybe a little too confident.

“Can I come with you this time?” (Y/n) asked hopefully as Shinobu packed a light bag of supplies for her mission.

“I will tell you what I always have. You haven’t passed Final Selection yet. It would be unwise to bring you along.” Shinobu said, snapping her small medical kit shut. “I mean no offense when I say this, but I don’t want to have to worry about you while I have to focus on doing my job.”

“Please?”

Shinobu gave (Y/n) a smile that was paired with a look she knew all too well at this point. The ‘I’ll leave you in charge of all the most annoying chores while I’m gone if you keep this up’ look. (Y/n) pouted.

“I don’t get it! Why can’t we have supervised missions? Don’t you think it’s a little extreme to go from training without seeing a single demon, to a several nights of fighting them alone in the woods? I trust that everyone is doing their best to prepare me, but it would still be helpful to see what I’ll be up against in the future.”

Shinobu considered this as she checked over the experiments scattered around her lab one last time. It was a fair point. People tended to either go in with too much confidence or went in terrified over what to expect. Many fledglings had been killed by getting stuck in their heads and forgetting all they had been taught.

She would hate for (Y/n) to meet the same fate.

“Very well,” she sighed, “you may come, but,” she pointed her finger towards (Y/n) in warning, “you are only to observe from a distance. Do not attempt to engage unless absolutely necessary. If you go against me, I will make sure that you will never be cleared for final selection. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes! I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise!” (Y/n) eagerly held out her pinky and Shinobu sighed again inwardly before hooking their pinkies together.

Hopefully she wouldn’t regret this decision. It was getting harder and harder for her to deny (Y/n) anything. Despite the undesirable first impression and how rough she appeared around the edges, (Y/n) was a true sweetheart. She had a very abrupt introduction to the mansion, but quickly became another familiar friendly face within its walls. It would be devastating to see her life cut short.

“So, where are we going?” (Y/n) grinned excitedly and Shinobu couldn’t help but smile as well.

“A village to the southeast.”

***

Everything had gone smoothly until it hadn’t.

Shinobu had left a small trail of poisoned demons in her wake, (Y/n) safely observing and cheering her on at a distance, until two other demons had snuck up on them both. While Shinobu was busy taking care of one demon, (Y/n) had to defend herself against the other. Shinobu had lent her a Nichirin Sword for just such an occasion, but (Y/n) was having a hard time reading the demon’s erratic movements and had been slashed half a dozen times across her arms, legs and back before she finally managed to behead the thing. It hadn’t been very clean, but she gave a triumphant, albeit breathless shout of victory.

She had then turned to Shinobu, excited to she her reaction to her hard fought kill, but that fire died immediately when she saw how angry Shinobu looked as she strode towards her, the last demon melting into a pile of goo behind her.

Instantly (Y/n) felt the need to be defensive. “You- you said I could defend myself if I absolutely had to! Everything’s fine, right?”

“Everything is not fine!” Shinobu dropped to her knees beside her and opened her medkit, “You are covered in wounds! If you had a uniform, you wouldn’t be hurt half as badly. You might even get an infection on top of all of this. I shouldn’t have let you come.”

“Hey, none of this is your fault. That demon scratched me all up, not you.“

“You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if I had left you at home.” She restated stubbornly. “Now show me your wounds, the sooner I clean and wrap them, the sooner we can get home so I can give you proper aid.”

(Y/n) let Shinobu clean and wrap her calves and arms, but when Shinobu began peeling back her clothes to try to work on her back, (Y/n) froze.

She had been rather vague with Shinobu about her past. How could she tell Shinobu she had been raised in a criminal syndicate that took a turn from admittedly kind of in a grey area, to definitely irreprehensible? That the night Shinobu met her, she was trying to gear herself up to kill an innocent woman and her children? No, she couldn’t. She could only imagine the disgust Shinobu would feel, the betrayal. (Y/n) suddenly felt ill.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Shinobu asked. She tried to peel (Y/n)’s clothes from her back quicker, worried she was having some kind of reaction to the demon’s attack.

(Y/n) tried to pull her clothes back up over her shoulders, but Shinobu was faster, a quiet gasp that felt deafening in (Y/n)’s ears left Shinobu’s lips as the spiraling dragon tattoo was revealed. The blood seeping from the gashes across (Y/n)’s back making it look even more ferocious.

“When did you get this done?” Shinobu lightly poked her shoulder blade, the dragon’s snoot.

“A few years ago.” (Y/n) mumbled, pressing her palms together.

“Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

A weak hum and a shrug of the shoulders.

“You know,” Shinobu traced the coils, making (Y/n) shiver, “I have heard about a group of criminals that bear similar tattoos…”

(Y/n) broke down and told Shinobu everything about her up-brining from when her parents had gone out on a routine fishing trip and didn’t come back, up until the night they met, now months in the past.

“I understand if you don’t want me around anymore. I’ll—ah!”

Apparently Shinobu had been treating her back throughout her tale, as made evident by the sudden tightness of the bandages around her torso.

“That’s just foolish. Do you think I’m afraid of a little ink? Do you think I would ever be afraid of you, (Y/n)? Let’s think logically here.”

Shinobu proceeded to verbally beat some sense into (Y/n)’s brain. Reminding her of all the good she had done in the last few months.

“There is no better place for you than the Butterfly Estate. It’s a much better fit. Isn’t that right?”

Before (Y/n) could collect herself enough to respond, she felt Shinobu pinch her skin lower on her shoulder blade.

“Yes, you are so very wise Shinobu.”

“Why thank you.“

(Y/n) blinked, turmoil somewhat pushed aside for the moment. “Are you… pinching my skin to make it look like my tattoo is talking?”

“I’ve patched you up as best I can here. Get dressed, it’s time to go home.”

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” (Y/n) fumbled with her clothes then stumbled to her feet to catch up with Shinobu.

It was a little awkward on (Y/n)’s part as they walked back to the mansion, but once the fact that Shinobu still liked her caught up to her, the conversation became more natural and by the time they returned to the mansion and Shinobu completed the finishing touches to (Y/n)’s care, (Y/n) felt a familiar weightlessness and with Shinobu’s teasing pokes, the tattoo on her back didn’t feel as heavy and constricting anymore.

***

In the following weeks of recovery, (Y/n) and Shinobu grew quite a bit closer and many residents of the mansion took notice. The touches that were a couple beats too long when they passed the other something, the lingering looks, and most damning was how Shinobu would put off some of her work to join (Y/n) for a meal or a chat and a walk around the garden, knuckles brushing as they went. (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel hopeful that Shinobu might want to change the nature of their relationship as well.

On this lovely summer day, she was prepared to share her feelings, for better or for worse. She had already planned a little outing that Shinobu agreed to join her on. Nothing too grand, just a sweet little picnic in the woods near the mansion. It was pretty much a date already. She had woken extra early that morning with the intent of getting everything in order before they left, but when she walked past her window, something on the sill outside caught her eye. A letter.

She opened the window and took the letter and wasted no time in opening it. The curiosity she had felt chilled into a heavy feeling of dread.

Traitorous coward, the letter read, If you have any ounce of honor within you, you will come to the cemetery and accept your punishment for deserting the family, or we will burn this mansion and everyone in it to ash.

There was no sign off, but (Y/n) didn’t need one to know it was Akira. She let the letter flutter to the ground and jumped out of the window so as not to be caught running down the halls. This was her mess to deal with. She would not allow anyone to be hurt because of her.

Part of her was hopeful she and Akira could talk it out, but she knew that wasn’t going to be very likely. Whatever happened today would be the final wedge between them.

She went to the cemetery and walked to the very last row. Though it was not specified, she had a feeling she’d find him near his father’s grave.

“There you are.” Though she expected it, (Y/n) stiffened at Akira’s icy tone. “Look who left her comfy new castle to finally face the consequences.”

“Aniki—“

“No, you are no sibling of mine. Not by blood nor bond.” Akira sneered, “I trusted you to do the right thing for this family. You’d think after taking you in, you’d have a sense of duty to avenge the man who took you off the streets and put food in your mouth.”

(Y/n) stood a bit taller, holding her head high, “I don’t regret letting them go. They did nothing wrong. I heard all about how you got your man in the end. That was all that needed to be done. It’s over.”

“Not until they’re all dead.” He growled, then sighed. “Here is how this is going to work. You tell me where they ran off to, or you will pay dearly.”

“I won’t tell you anything.” She declared almost talking over him with how quickly she replied.

“Oh, trust me,” he glared, “you will.”

People (Y/n) once considered family and friends had quietly surrounded them as they talked. And now were charging at her with the intent to harm. She managed to hold them off for a time, even incapacitated some after all the training she had done to become a demon slayer thus far, but between being outnumbered and her wounds still relatively fresh, she was beaten to the ground and held there at knifepoint barely able to breathe with the combined weight on top of her back.

“Start with the fingers.” Akira ordered cooly. “If she manages to hold out, we’ll move on to the toes. But before all of this is done we also have to take that tattoo back as well. Try to be as delicate as possible. I want to dry it out and hang it on my wall. My father always said it was one of his favorite works.”

“Stop!” (Y/n) squirmed beneath the weight, struggling to pry her wrist out of one of the many grabby hands. She closed her eyes and grit her teeth tightly, anticipating the first slice, but then she felt some of the weight get yanked away and her eyes shot open, craning her head back, she was surprised to see that the Calvary had arrived.

Inosuke cackled and crowed as he swiftly kicked outward like a hurricane, Kanao weaved behind thugs and struck them in their weak points, toppling them. Tanjirou delivered a few swift headbutts and even Zenitsu, though screaming, came through as well. Last but not least, Shinobu floated gracefully to the ground behind (Y/n), her smile too sharp and her eyes to dark to be considered kind. Her gaze was trained on Akira, challenging him.

“My home is filled with an array of trained fighters at all hours of the day, and our allies are many. You had best cut your loses and move on with your miserable life.”

Akira ground his teeth together and his eyes flickered all around him to see just how overpowered he was despite how small the opposing group was in comparison. He determined his clan was no match and called back his gang to retreat, but not before giving (Y/n) one last hateful glare.

While Inosuke cheered and cackled wildly around them, Shinobu dropped to the ground beside (Y/n) to check her over.

“Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Show me.”

“I’m alright, you guys got here just in time. How did you know where to find me?”

“I believe we had a date planned for today.” Shinobu reminded with just the tiniest hint of attitude. “I went to your room, saw the letter on the floor and rallied the troops. If something like this ever happens again, you better tell me instead of running off by yourself. We are stronger together.”

Now, Shinobu had a lot to say just then, but (Y/n) was still fixated on the first line. A date. She saw the outing to ask if she wanted to date as a date in and of itself!

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Shinobu asked, tilting (Y/n)’s head in her hands, “Are you concussed?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think I am, I just, you just—“

“Yes?” Shinobu coaxed with just a touch of impatience. If there was something wrong, she wanted to know about it as soon as possible.

“You-me-we-us— date?!”

Shinobu laughed, it was a little more unrestrained than her usual chuckles and it made (Y/n)’s heart palpitate.

“Yes, is that not what this outings was supposed to be?”

“Well,” she flustered, “technically no. It was supposed to be like a pre-date to ask if you would like to date… it sounds kinda silly when I say it out loud but—“

Shinobu then sighed and rested her forehead against (Y/n)’s. “I think it’s cute. But we can just start dating now. I think we’ve beaten around the bush for long enough.”

“Y-yeah? Okay.” A smile spread across (Y/n)’s face. “Awesome.”

Shinobu took (Y/n)’s hands in her own and placed a quick kiss on her cheek before helping her to her feet.

“Why are you stumbling around like you’re drunk?” Shinobu asked, finding it difficult to keep (Y/n) upright. “Perhaps I should check your pupils again.”

“No, no, I’m good! Great, even! A goddess just kissed my cheek!” (Y/n) beamed, hooking her arms around Shinobu’s shoulders.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” Shinobu warned, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

On the tail end of the sweetness of the moment, Inosuke butted between them to tell Shinobu how hungry he was despite Tanjirou, Kanao and Zenitsu’s best efforts to keep him back. Shinobu chuckled and nodded in understanding. They all marched back to the mansion and enjoyed a hearty breakfast together with the rest of the Butterfly girls, (Y/n) and Shinobu sitting hip to hip during the whole lively affair.

[abrahamvanhelsings]

if you would ever like to elaborate further on the mountain dog/hunting dog joplittle dynamic you mentioned in the tags of that “Blanky about to lose his leg” gifset…. inquiring minds are simply piqued 👀

hi sorry that this took me. FOREVER. i didn't have time to answer the ask at first then i did it halfway and didn't have time again and i promise you this ask has been hounding me (hah hah) since the day it appeared in my inbox but i never seemed to be able to make the time to reply to it asfjdfjfd anyway! here it is now :')

ok im basing the idea of hunting dog = jopson and mountain/working dog = little on their respective personalities, the way they seem to think and how they react to specific circumstances. and slightly on their physiques as presented in the series but that's of minor importance. ofc both of them are loyal and listen well to superiors - to one man in particular, which is fairly common among dog breeds as well (i.e. whoever trained them), so that's not necessarily distinctive, but it does ofc make them dog-coded in general. but there are many many ways in which to be dog-coded and they're very different abt it so!

why i think jopson is more hunting dog coded is bc he is extremely competent, but quietly so, not noticeable until it becomes necessary. he's very skilled at providing specific information about the crew and the general goings-on around terror to crozier, and he becomes more focused in highly tense situations - in fact these are moments where he specifically stands out for how well-suited he seems to the task. and he is not aggressive, but there is definitely a sharpness to him that he can and does direct to those who threaten him or crozier first and foremost.

and all that really does remind me of hunting dogs - a good hunting dog is extremely well-trained, knows exactly what he is supposed to do, listens to commands, and stays at his master's side. im thinking especially of pointing dogs, i.e. dogs that point a hunter in the direction of prey that they have sensed:

these are of course very precarious situations wherein a hunter relies on his dog to steer him, and if hunter or dog make a wrong sound or movement, they may alert prey to their presence. there's a a correspondence here between dogs trained for these moments of focus to jopson, who is crozier's silent aid but also excels in such tense situations, and who is decisive, swift and capable. and i think it's really funny that being 'birdy' is a wanted trait in these dog types, bc 'i've shot smaller hawks than you' the comparison literally writes itself. also, pointers/setters tend to be lean dogs, which i think coincides well with jopson's natural elegance and grace

edward on the other hand is supposed to be sturdy, good-natured and broadly dependable. he appears increasingly anxious in the series, but that is because he is shouldering a lot of responsibility throughout it all. he'll take the insults and he'll take the extra tasks and he'll do it with barely a complaint. in fact it makes me think of the fact that dogs treated badly can come to exhibit traits that are not desirable in the breed at all. imo edward in ep 1 displays what i would call the desirable traits of, say, the bernese mountain dog, but events and crozier change that very rapidly.

you can fuck up any dog if you treat it badly for long enough, and edward is an abused dog to me.

id also say that edward is generally amiable, though he will make a point when he feels it is absolutely necessary, and he does have an innate want to protect what or whom he finds important, though he is seldom if ever very aggressive about it. he has an intense feeling of responsibility for the crew and the expedition as a whole, set against his feelings of loyalty towards crozier, who he wants to please almost at any cost as well. and then of course he also has a large family.

'search and rescue work'. yeah. and then of course mountain dogs are generally of a sturdy build. obviously matthew mcnulty is no absolute unit but by god the series tried their hardest to make edward appear like a well-built countryside boy. and by god does he try to carry every burden ever on those shoulders, like a dog pulling a cart bc that's what it was trained to do and it was enjoyable once. and he seems practically immune to scurvy and fares well in the cold, which, again, very mountain dog of him.

additionally, newfoundlands (neptune!) aren't mountain dogs, but they're big, sturdy, excellent swimmers, and therefore often used for rescue, so that's also a breed i associate with ned.