#they couldn’t settle on an eye shape for him. me neither

[markbandanawitts]

day 50 ⁉️⁉️

everybody step back….. i used color correctly today….

THIS IS GONNA BE MY LAST DAILY DAY !! THE MARKBANDANAWITTS IS REBRANDING!!! i’m still gonna be drawing saburo a ton but it’s not gonna be everyday; i’ve been posting here for 50 days but i’ve actually been doing it for 130 lmao

i enjoy drawing him as much as i do BUT not doing it everyday will probably remove any art block/clutter drawings and give me more time to draw other characters as well . very proficient and rational see guys

[prettyfastcars]

'til I touch, touch, touch you | Mob!Lewis

Summary: Lewis finds out that you have a thing for his hands. 

Themes: explicit language, smut, fluff, praise kink, daddy kink

“Why are you sitting so far?” 

He dared ask, looking at you like he didn’t know what he was doing to you. Manspreading on the other side of the couch, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows revealing his tattoos, all the buttons of his shirt were undone so you could see his muscular, tattooed chest clearly, and his braids tied neatly at the back. 

He looked confused as to why you put all that distance between you and him on the large couch. If you sat any closer, you’d end up getting on his lap and beg him to fuck you till the morning. And he’d been working late these past few days, he looked a little tired. He deserved a little rest, you thought. 

But fuck. Those soft eyes he made at you weren’t helping. And his damn hands. One holding a whiskey glass, and the other extended towards you. You tried your hardest to look away from them. Tattoos all over his fingers, and all his rings… you took a deep breath and said, “It’s comfy here.” 

He frowned at you and tried again, “Babygirl,” He spoke in that irresistible voice of his, “Come sit with daddy, I missed you all day.” 

Ah, screw it. You gave up resisting and crawled to him until you settled right beside him, throwing your legs over his lap and leaned into the warmth of his bare chest. You couldn’t help but lean down and kiss his warm skin, right above the compass tattoo. 

“I missed you too.” You murmured, letting your lips brush over his skin. Then you nearly groaned when he brought his hand over to caress your exposed thigh. As if just looking at them weren’t torture enough, now he was gliding those slightly rough, tattooed fingers all over your skin. 

You nearly stopped breathing altogether when his fingers began getting closer and closer to your inner thighs. Your little satin PJ set wasn’t hiding much of your body anyway. 

“How was your day?” He asked, keeping an eye on what was playing on the TV while his hand mindlessly caressing your thigh. 

You couldn’t look away. Those hands had been your fixation for a while now. “Uh,” You struggled to respond, “It was fine. I did, you know, stuff.” 

Damn him. His hand slowly inched even further up your thigh, stopping you from even thinking coherently. 

“Hmm. What else?” 

You opened your mouth to answer but his fingers teased your upper thigh and you couldn’t help but groan. Leaning more into his touch as you hid your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled delicious and you groaned even louder. 

Lewis chuckled. “You think I haven’t noticed you’ve been staring at my hands?” You refused to look him in the eyes so he continued. “You’ve been doing it a lot lately, haven’t you? What is it? They turn you on?” 

You whined, trying to close your legs but he tightened his grip on your thigh and you couldn’t move. 

“You like my hands?” He teased, placing his glass down and bringing his other hand to cup your face. 

You finally pulled away from his neck so you could look up at him, and nodded shyly. 

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “Where do you want them?” 

You mumbled something but it was neither coherent nor audible. 

Lewis brough his thumb over to your mouth, tracing the shape of your lips as he said, “Louder baby, use your words. Where do you want daddy’s hands?”

“All over me.” 

His pretty brown eyes stared deep into yours as he smirked. “Come here,” He said, pulling you onto his lap. 

You straddled him like you had the habit of doing and waited, and watched how his hands went back to your thighs, inching higher and higher up your leg, caressing your inner thighs. He smirked when you moaned and kept going. Sliding those gorgeous, tattooed hands all over your soft skin. The cold metal of his rings made you shiver. 

His hands had done terrible things given the nature of his job. He had hurt, maimed, pulled so many triggers, ended lives even, but they were so gentle with you. So careful. 

He leaned in to kiss your jaw and down your neck, his stubbled brushing against your skin gently. His lips warm and soft as they brushed all over your skin. His knuckles brushed against the front of the flimsy PJ shorts you were wearing. 

He whispered, with his lips hovering over the corner of your mouth. “I can feel how wet you are, baby.” He slipped his hand past the waistband, into your thin underwear and touched you gently. His fingers circled around your clit, before he pushed a finger in, then another and started gently moving them in and out of you. “Is this what you wanted? Hmm?” 

He placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and brushed it occasionally while he finger-fucked you, your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand. You threw your head back and moaned when his fingers touched you in all the right places, curling just right and massaging your sensitive spots perfectly.

His other hand gently wrapped around your neck, not squeezing yet but just holding you firmly. You got just a little louder as he sped up, his fingers slipping in and out of you with ease. 

“Look down,” He said, “Look how well you’re taking daddy’s fingers.” 

You did. And fuck if it didn’t make you whine and moan even louder. 

And seeing you were whining and whimpering already, he decided to torture you more by moving his hand from your throat, “Open up, baby.” He whispered, pushing two fingers past your lips and into your mouth and slowly pumped those two as well. 

Your lips immediately wrapped around his fingers. And he smirked at the sight of you, with two of his fingers buried in your wet core, slipping in and out of you rapidly while his other two fingers were buried into your warm mouth. His rings clinked against your teeth as he did. 

“Do they feel good?” 

You nodded desperately, clenching around his fingers. 

The sounds you made alone were enough to make his pants feel tighter, and make him want to tease you even more. “Yeah? You like being completely stuffed, don’t you? Look at you, look how well you take it. Daddy’s perfect little slut, hmm?” 

Your muffled moans, the way his hands moved against your skin, his fingers in your mouth, in your cunt… it was all too much. Soon you had tears streaming down your face. 

He removed his fingers from your mouth and wrapped his hand around your throat again, squeezing just a little as he brought your face closer to his. His breath was just as ragged as yours, his lips inches away from yours. “Are you gonna come, baby? You’re gonna come for daddy?” 

You nodded, moaning when he sped up again, his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet, almost agonizing pressure forming in between your hips. 

You rolled your hips against his hand in a haze, chasing your orgasm, moaning and whimpering. “Come for me, babygirl.” He encouraged you and tightened his grip around your throat just a little bit more.

And you couldn’t hold it anymore, you let the familiar waves of pleasure wash over you as you came all over his fingers, crying out loud in pleasure. Gushing out all over his hand as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, getting everything he could out of you. He finally pressed his lips to yours and kissed you hard. 

You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself then. You hurried to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, lowering the waistband of his underwear to free his erected cock. The mere sight of his perfect cock had you whimpering with need again.

You got off his lap and dropped to kneel in between his legs immediately. You reached out and wrapped your hands around his base and placed your mouth on his cock immediately, your tongue slowly circling his tip. He groaned and spread his legs further apart, inching his hips slightly forward as you took more of him into your mouth.

He sighed as he leaned back and grabbed his glass of whiskey again and sipped on it as he watched you suck his cock, bobbing your head around him just like how he liked it. You took him inch by inch until he filled your mouth completely. 

“Fuck, baby…” He swore under his breath again as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper into your mouth. “You feel so fucking good.” His praise gave you a rush.

You wanted more. You took most of his cock into your mouth and repeated your actions again and again. 

He moaned and growled occasionally. He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. You looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly. You always did. 

You took him out of your mouth and teased him a little bit, licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls as you gently stroked him. His taste and scent was all you could focus on. 

He swore under his breath at your teasing, as you dragged your tongue over the slit on this tip lazily. He looked down at you with a warning in his pretty brown eyes, his glass of whiskey just an inch or two from his plump lips. “Don’t tease me, babygirl.” He spoke, his voice carrying nothing but authority and lust. 

So you got back to it while looking him in the eye. You took him back into your mouth and sucked on his cock until he was so close to coming undone all over your tongue, groaning and grunting in pleasure. You sped up your actions because you liked the sounds which left his lips while he was right on the edge.

“Fuck… slow down, babygirl.” He moaned, breathlessly as he came into your mouth. His thigh muscles tensing and his hips thrusting gently up into your mouth.

You swallowed all that he gave you and you licked him clean before climbing onto his lap again. This time after taking your clothes off. 

“You’re such a good girl for daddy, you know that?” He said, after catching his breath for a second or two. Hands reaching up to cup your face. “You want more?” 

You nodded again, licking your lips for any remnant taste of him. Lewis smirked and pushed you back down on the couch before he slid inside of you again, effortlessly. And the two of you moaned in unison as he filled you up again, your walls already gripping him tightly as your back arched off the couch. 

“Fuck…” You whimpered. 

His one hand wrapped around your throat while the other held on to your hip, keeping you in place. You felt his cock stretching you, filling you up. Every inch of him sliding into your tight cunt. You could feel your eyes tearing up at how snug he felt inside you. And his hand around your throat… fuck. 

He held your stare as he reached down to grab your legs and wrapped them around his waist. He looked down to where your bodies connected, quickly spitting right on your clit, his thumb spreading the wetness around as he leaned down to give you a messy kiss, swallowing your desperate moan in the process.

“Please,” You mumbled against his mouth. You couldn’t help your loud moans which followed as he moved his hips the slightest bit. His cock moving in and out of you. 

“Please what, babygirl?” Lewis pulled away and watched you as you whined at the feeling of his cock slowly moving in and out of you.

“Fuck me, please.” You whimpered, then felt your walls clenching around him as he finally sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on. 

“You feel so fucking good…” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “So perfect for daddy.” 

You moaned at how perfect his hard, muscular, tattooed chest felt against yours, his weight pressing down on you. His slight stubble tickled your skin as he moved. His soft lips brushing against your skin as he kissed you everywhere he could. 

Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist. His thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body, tight and hot.

Lewis looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “Look at me, babygirl.” When you did, he whispered, “Daddy loves you. So much. You understand?” 

You nodded. The possessiveness in his voice only made you clench around him again. 

He gave you a lazy smile, “Then be a good girl and come for daddy.” His hand squeezed your throat, making you moan even louder. He leaned in, giving you a messy kiss. “Come all over my cock, baby. Come on.” 

You whimpered, unable to say anything because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. The familiar pressure formed at your core yet again and you whined when his hand let go of your throat and his fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly.

Lewis loved that look on your face, that look of utter bliss, pain, pleasure, lust and hunger all at once. “That’s it, babygirl. You’re taking me so well, look at you. Now come, come all over me,” He whispered and that was all you needed to hear before you came undone all around him. 

Whimpering and back arching off the couch as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him. He kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under his intense gaze. 

He growled as he buried his cock deep inside you, coming undone right after you. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, feeling some of his cum drip down your thighs before he dropped carefully on top of you. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked, gently kissing your neck while his hands touched you everywhere they could, rubbing up and down your sides, and thighs. 

“Yeah,” You breathed, placing a hand on top of one of his, toying with his rings. 

“Wanna go to bed?” 

You sighed. “Don’t think I can walk just yet, give me a minute.”

[thegettingbyp2]

38 -Jess Mariano

We're Not Friends

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You were straddling Jess’ lap on the sofa in his and Luke’s apartment above the diner, your fingers tangled in his hair as your hips swivelled on his cock. The apartment was filled with the sound of yours and Jess’ combined whimpers and groans. You’d had the apartment to yourselves for the past day and a bit due to Luke being over at Lorelai’s and it was safe to say that you were both making good use of the empty space.

‘Jess,’ you whined, on the verge of tears. You were so overstimulated from the amount of times the two of you had fucked in the last 24 hours. Jess’ hands were firmly gripping your hips, bouncing you up at down on his cock as his lips pressed kisses and bites along your neck and chest.

‘Almost there, baby, you’re doing so good,’ Jess murmured into your skin, digging his teeth into your collar to make you cry out and clench around him. ‘I’m almost there,’ he repeated, planting his feet on the ground and using the leverage to thrust up into you. Your body collapsed on his chest as he used your body like a toy. Thrusting once more up into you, Jess let out a deep groan as you felt his cum coat your walls.

Resting against his chest, you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, your eyes fluttering closed tiredly as his arms wrapped around you. You stayed like that for a few minutes before you reluctantly pulled away and got off of his lap, wincing slightly when he slid out of you.

‘Where are you going?’ Jess asked, still sounding tired but looking more alert when he saw you putting your clothes back on.

‘Home,’ you replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘Why?’

‘Because we don’t do the whole hanging around, staying over thing.’

‘We did last night.’

You felt your body freeze at his words. You and Jess were strictly friends with benefits, you’d both agreed on that before starting anything up, not wanting to get on the wrong page of anything. Up until last night, you’d kept your rule of not staying round the others after hooking up but Jess having the place to himself, neither of you questioned it when you’d decided to stay over.

‘Jess,’ you said, sighing quietly before turning around to face him. ‘We’re friends and we made a - ’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘We’re not friends, (Y/N), we passed “just friends” about 20 fucks ago, and you know it, so don’t give me that.’

‘We always said that we wouldn’t let feelings get in the way of this.’

‘Well, too late.’

‘And you’re so sure that we both have the same feelings for each other?’ you asked with a raised eyebrow.

‘If I’m wrong, walk out of that door right now,’ Jess said, stepping towards you, his voice low. His hands moved to settle lightly on your hips and you couldn’t help but shiver when you felt his fingers gently press into the new hand-shaped bruises that were forming on your hips. ‘Walk out and I’ll never bring it up again. But I’m 99.9% sure you’re not going anywhere.��

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, your hands came up to rest on his bare chest and you had to fight the urge to laugh when you felt goose bumps erupt over his skin at your touch.

‘I,’ you began, not knowing what to say at all.

Jess’s eyes softened as he looked at you and he took a step closer to you. ‘You feel it too right?’ You nodded, tears springing to your eyes and a lump forming in your throat, making it impossible for you to speak. ‘That’s all I needed,’ he said before leaning in to press his lips back to yours.

That’s when it hit you. Standing in the middle of the apartment, half dressed.

You were in love with Jess Mariano.

[teamatsumu]

Can I please request rekindling a relationship with ex-boyfriend Atsumu who is a total ass man? (He can't stop touching, fondling reader 's ass.)

one day. (miya atsumu x fem!reader)

word count: 755

warnings: post-break up. sexual language but no explicit smut. swearing. osamu is there. slight angst if you squint. nsfw. mdni.

Taglist: @keiva1000

Atsumu should have known that even after breaking up with you, your presence in his life would be inevitable. After all, you had been childhood friends, and while your relationship had soured and fizzled months ago, you were still very, very close to Osamu, and no beef with Atsumu could stop you from seeing his twin.

So Atsumu had gotten used to walking into Onigiri Miya and seeing you perched on a stool at the counter, deep in conversation with Osamu who was carefully shaping onigiri for you. You were just as much a fan of his brother’s food as he was, maybe an even more enthusiastic supporter. Osamu often called you his little “taste tester”, and Atsumu would make a sleazy joke in your ear about how he was your taste tester, in that he would bury his head between your thighs to taste y-

You would always smack him before he could finish.

Ah well, those days were long gone. You weren’t interested in anything he had to say anymore, which Atsumu thought was karma for the last few weeks of your relationship, when he had started missing all your calls, messages, dates. After the fight that led to your breakup, which was filled with your teary complaints about how he had no time for you at all, Atsumu wondered if his volleyball career just left no room for him to date. But then he would look at Meian, who had a whole wife, and think that maybe it was just him. He just didn’t know how to maintain a relationship.

That didn’t stop him from hesitating now, catching sight of you in conversation with his brother, your arms folded on the counter before you with your torso leaning forward, and Atsumu’s gaze was immediately beckoned down to your-

Fuck.

Those were his favorite pair of jeans on you.

You had gotten them when he took you birthday shopping, and Atsumu had been enamored with them the minute you tried them on. High waisted and tight, they hugged your ass deliciously, so much that Atsumu had insisted he buy them for you, later using that as an excuse to bend you over the nearest surface any time you wore them and having his way with you. This couldn’t be a coincidence now, why would you wear them today? To come to Onigiri Miya? Where you knew you would likely run into him? Atsumu’s jaw clenched at the thought and he stepped further into the shop, finally catching your and his brother’s attention.

“Finally. What’s the point of making ya fresh onigiri if ya won’t show up on time?” Osamu scowled at him, but Atsumu paid him no mind, catching your eye and giving you a smirk.

“Nice ass.” He quipped, making you roll your eyes and turn back to your own plate, but Atsumu caught the tips of your ears turning red, making him grin. Victory.

“You’re disgusting, Miya.” You replied, voice low before you took another bite. Atsumu settled into the stool next to you.

“Ya never minded that when we were datin’. In fact, I still remember the sweet sounds ya made-”

“Shut up.” You glared at him, while Osamu made a disgusted face, saying something along the lines of ‘not in front of the food’. Neither of you reacted too viscerally though. Atsumu’s foul language was nothing new. You might have broken up with him, but you both knew he still liked you, and he would never stop flirting. That was his way of saying he wasn’t giving up on you.

Deep down, Atsumu knew you liked it. So when Osamu turned his back to search for something behind him, Atsumu leaned close to you, lips brushing your ear.

“Why’d ya wear those jeans, doll? Temptin’ me to bend ya over this counter?”

You dug your elbow into his side to push him away a bit. “In your dreams.”

Atsumu hummed, no longer resisting the urge to reach down and give your ass an appreciative squeeze. You jumped a bit, turning to glare at him. “Ya really don’t wanna know what goes on in my dreams, sweetcheeks.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, but Atsumu caught the corners of your lips, fighting to hold back a smile. He sighed as Osamu placed a plate of food in front of him, not bothering to bite back his own smile. You still loved him, deep down, Atsumu was sure, and he was determined to make you his again one day.

One day.

[lethalchiralium]

Delicate | Simon “Ghost” Riley x König x AFAB!Wife!Reader (18+)

a/n: do not burn me at the stake this is like the third time i’ve ever written smut LEAVE ME BE (thank you @as-is-above-so-below for beta-ing you’re so awesome) ALSO THIS IS A COMPLETE STAND ALONE HAHA

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY, ALL MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED. AFAB Anatomy. Pregnant sex, oral sex (F receiving), lactation kink.

18+ BELOW THE CUT

“C’mon, Mama, stay still.”

Your hands fisted the sheets below you as both of your husbands lay on top of you - both touching you for the first time in weeks.

König settled in between your thighs, thin brown stubble scratching your soft skin as he sucked on your clit. His arms curled around your legs to keep you in place, one of his large hands settled on the juncture between your hip and leg to hold you down.

Ghost was cradled in your arms, sucking on your leaking nipple as his fingers tweaked the other. You held both of their heads by their hair, your back arched up from the mattress as König’s tongue fell further.

You wanted them to take you again, hold you down as they rammed their cocks into you at an excruciating pace - but your rounded and pregnant belly made everything difficult. This would suffice, though; they had been gone for a few weeks, and your fingers just couldn’t satisfy you like theirs could. Damn your pregnancy hormones, nauseous one minute and horny the next. You were glad you had them both, satisfying both of your needs - your breasts painfully full of milk and the need to be fucked.

König’s tongue was long, yet not as skilled as Ghost’s, and even though he gave you shallow laps with it, you were ready to explode. Your hand curled at the root of his jaw length brown hair, pushing him further into your cunt - feeling his tongue push in. As soon as he shoved the rest of his tongue into you, Ghost’s teeth nibbled at your nipple. Your hand tugged at his short hair, pushing him farther into your breast.

Pressure on the top of your clit came from Ghost’s thumb, and you bucked your hips into König’s face; his tongue dug deeper and he groaned in pleasure. He sucked at your cunt, making your head roll backwards on the pillow.

With a little pop from your nipple, Simon pulled away, taking large breaths in quickly. “Doin’ okay?”

You nodded feverishly, mouth open and panting. “Fuck me already.”

König pulled away from your cunt, “I’m too long for her, might hurt the little one.” He leaned back up, you whined at the missing heat. “Switch me.”

“On your side,” Simon muttered, and you willingly complied feeling like a dog in heat the way you needed them. It would be best for you to be on your side with Simon’s tendency to collapse on top of you or König - and no matter how they would do anything at your request, the child that grew in your womb was theirs to protect. Didn’t matter whose it was biologically, neither man would harm that child. “Tell me if I hurt you,” Simon murmured against your ear as his hand crept between your legs, your breath hitched. Your back curled against his chest as his thicker fingers traced shapes on your clit, your eyes tightly shut.

The bed creaked as König laid in front of you, bringing his now clean fingers to your face, rubbing your cheek as he pressed his forehead into yours. “Breathe, Liebling.”

Your forehead dug into König’s, panting as he moved one of his hands down to your heat, but not touching you where you wanted - his hand held onto your thigh and pulled your leg up just a little bit.

It wasn’t more than a second before Simon pushed himself in, your eyes rolled back into your head as you let out a lewd moan, and König pressed his lips to yours, cutting off the sound and squeezing your thigh. Heat pooled from the middle of your chest all the way down to your core, your walls clenching around Simon’s cock. The man behind you groaned, his face pressing into your shoulder as he kept pushing in.

The soft kisses from König almost kept you distracted as Simon dragged his teeth against your skin when he bottomed out. “Touch me,” you whimpered, “Please.”

The man in front of you pressed another kiss to your lips before you felt Simon’s hand take your leg from him, allowing him to press his fingers into your clit. As soon as you jolted from the pleasure, Simon pulled out a little and thrusted back in - your mouth pulled into a silent scream as he began to pound into you.

König kept his hand on your clit, the other holding your face as you panted, euphoric and hormonal. His thumb rubbed circles into your bundle of nerves, your head moved forward into König’s neck.

“Such a good mama,” the man in front of you whispered into your ear, the head of Simon’s cock hitting the spongy spot in your pussy and making you whimper. “Being so good to us.”

Simon’s forehead still against your shoulder, his grip holding onto your hips as he kept drilling into you - knowing he wasn’t long enough to hurt the baby, but thick enough to make you go stupid.

“Taking him so well, is this what you wanted?” König mumbled to you, and you nodded feverishly in response. “Oh, Liebling. You’re just so needy.”

“Yes,” You panted, nodding into his neck. “Yes yes yes,”

“Did you touch yourself while we were away?” His words made you want to move your hand from his hip and pull his cock out of his pants, stick it in next to Simon’s and let them have at it. But, you just nodded as Simon’s hand shifted your leg up higher so he could thrust at a deeper angle, pulling another yet another groan from you. “Just so needy.”

“Horny, is the word.” Simon muttered from gritted teeth, his forehead sticky against you. “Fuckin’ tight, bloody Hell.”

“So good, let him take whatever he wants, hm? If our little baby was not inside of you right now, I would shove myself in beside him. I’d go so slow, you’d never want to leave,” König’s teeth nipped your chin before he placed wet kissed to your neck, teeth grazed supple skin as the sound of Simon’s hips hitting your ass grew louder. There was a long moment it was only the melody that was your love. König sucking on your throat, your moans into König’s ear as Ghost rutted into you, choked grunts escaping his throat. König lapped at the bites he made before murmuring, “You’ll never leave us, right, princess?” His kisses made it down to your breasts, his long and warm tongue dragging over a leaking nipple. You jolted against Simon, clenching around him and he let out a surprised laugh.

“Tell us princess, tell us what feels so good,” Simon smirked against your skin. “And we’ll do even better for you.”

———

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[sadesluvr]

29/10 — POPE HEYWARD.

ft: iceplay

w/c: 1K + 18+, MINORS DNI

SADESLUVR'S KINKTOBER '24

It was hot. 

Painfully so.  

To make matters worse, you were hot and agitated; a dangerous combination in the Outer Banks. A Kook had the luxury of dipping into their pool, or a true Pogue would’ve settled for the local lake, but you were neither. 

Pope was supposed to have come back hours ago. You should’ve known that for an ask as simple as a fan would’ve sent him on a wild goose chase across the Carolina’s. 

You loved him dearly, but you were lying if you didn’t say he frustrated you. 

When he finally knocked on your door, you were positively fuming.  

“It took you a whole day to find a fucking fan? What time do you call this?” You scoffed, reluctantly stepping aside to let him in. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I know,” Pope frowned, bumbling in with the white object in his hands, placing it in your hallway before reaching out to you. “Please don’t be mad…JJ got us into some crazy goose chase and before I knew it, it was sundown.” 

“This isn’t the first time, Pope,” you continued, rolling your eyes at the mention of the blonde haired boy. “You never have time for me anymore…” 

The boys brown eyes widened in horror; almost as if the statement was blasphemous.  

“Ok, I could definitely be better at time management, but you know that’s not true,” he rambled, furrowing his brows. “You can come along with us, you know. You barely know them, and they’d love you.” 

You didn’t reply; merely scoffing before closing the door to your bedroom, with Pope following close behind. In an attempt to hug you, he placed his hands around your waist and pulled you in, only for you to push away. 

Scorned, he shook it off and crossed his arms, growing agitated at your temper. 

“Look, you need something to calm you down,” he began. “You got any ice cubes?” 

“I need more than a drink to get through this, Pope,” you said matter of fairly. “Besides, alcohol only raises body temperature.” 

“I’m not making you a drink,” he insisted. “Where you keep your ice?” 

“Back of the freezer,” you huffed. “Behind the ice cream container.” 

Pope disappeared in an instant, leaving you alone with your thoughts. In the moment, your only sense of relief was from the ceiling fan, whirling around aimlessly as it seemed to pump more hot air than anything. It wasn’t long before he returned, carrying the whole tray in his hand. 

“Ugh, Pope, it’s just going to melt —“ 

“Listen to me,” he said softly, stepping forward. “Take your clothes off and lie on the bed.” 

It wasn’t as if you were wearing many layers to begin with. Diligently, you peeled down the straps of your tank top and shimmied it down your body, leaving your torso naked. 

“Panties too…” Pope said breathily, and you chit your lip to conceal the fact that he was immediately turned on. There was always a hint of wonder in Pope’s eyes that you couldn’t help but find a turn on. 

Sliding back onto the bed, your watched him with an unwavering gaze as you slid your panties down your legs, giving him an eyeful of your bare pussy. Absentmindedly, Pope licked his lips before sitting next to you – fully clothed – pulling an ice cube from the tray and lingering it above your head. 

“This might sting a little, but you’ll feel good in no time, I promise.” He said, placing the cube on your forehead, and rubbing small circles. It tingled, but you soon breathed a sigh of relief at the sensation. As your eyes fluttered open, Pope smiled down at you, his spare hand caressing your skin as he did. 

“That feel good?” 

You hummed and bit your lip, opting to nod your head. Pope took that as a sign to continue, brushing the frozen substance down onto your lips; tracing the shape and intricate pattern. Now, they were lathered and pouty; ever so vulgar as the cold liquid began to drip down your chin and pool onto your neck and collarbone.  

“Thank God for these lips...” he whispered, earning a grin from you. “I don’t know where I’d be without them.” 

Pope still remembered the first time you gave him a blowjob. 

Next, he moved towards your breasts, circling their outline before leaning down and giving them a quick suckle with his tongue; nipples disappearing in between his plump lips. You moaned, which quickly turned into a whimper as the warm, sticky sensation was replaced with the freezing ice once more, swollen glands peppering your areolas as the liquid dripped rivulets around your chest; like a river between two mountains. 

“You like that?” Pope smirked, a gleam in his eye as you writhed under his touch. He was getting hard – in truth he had been since he’d knocked on the door – but he was more than happy to put his pleasure aside to focus on you. “I can feel your heart beating, it’s slower. Your hypothalamus must be working like crazy. What’s interesting is that --” 

“Pope, not now...” you giggled, brushing his arm with your fingertips. He was such a nerd at times. “It’s working.” 

Naturally, you thought he’d end up at your pussy; but he’d decided to work his way up your legs instead, rubbing abstract patterns like a painter to a canvas. Goosebumps littered your skin as he stroked the crevice of your knee with the cube, following the underside of your leg and making his way to your thighs, trembling and anticipating his touch. 

Your knees buckled as he made his way in between your thighs, tracing the outskirts of your bare pussy. Pope angled down to kiss you as he did, his fingers close enough to your insides that he could feel your growing wetness, and let out a soft moan as he did. Needy, you clenched as he drew on the outlines of your folds, threatening to rub the cube further into your hot core. Neither of you could tell what was wetter; the melting substance or your sex, both liquids seeping onto the bed and further down your thigh. 

“Pope...I need you...” you begged, almost breathless. Pulling away, he brought the coated ice cube to his mouth, consuming the taster of your juices before he went back to kissing you, shortly before his tight dark curls disappeared between your legs for good. 

In the end, the fan never really mattered. 

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,476 Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Warnings: mentions of past injury, nothing else really! (oh always language I guess? because of who I am as a person haha) Summary: The reader insists on leaving Hilltop and Daryl insists on helping her despite her annoyance. A/N: Guyyyysssss, the dynamic that is growing between these two... #FEELZ #OOF

“I ain’t askin’ ya to stay,” Daryl drawled quietly, walking beside you across the grassy open space in front of the manor. “ ‘M just sayin’—gimme ten minutes to get some supplies together for ya. It’d make all of us feel better.”

“I don’t need your supplies,” you retorted, staring straight ahead. Daryl was annoyingly persistent.

“It ain’t about—” he let out an exasperated sigh. “It ain’t about what ya need. We’re all worried. I know ya think we only care ‘bout findin’ out about them skin freaks from ya, but it’s not just that. Enid is sick over the fact that yer gonna walk outta here against medical advice. And honestly, so am I. How ya gonna even run out there? How ya gonna fight in the shape yer in if ya run into trouble?”

You finally looked at him and his blue eyes were intense. “There are ways around fighting,” you said.

His jaw tensed. “Like livin’ in the damn trees?”

“Walkers don’t look up. And neither do most people.”

He sighed heavily, his hands clenching into fists anxiously and then releasing again. “Ya ain’t even got any arrows left. At least let me get ya some more so ya can protect yerself. I just gotta run over to the armory. It’ll take five minutes.”

You fiddled with the strap of your empty quiver. It was disturbingly light without the usual weight of your ammo. You conceded. “Fine. I’ll be by the gate. Five minutes.”

Daryl looked immensely relieved. “Alrigh’. I’ll be right back.” He strode away hurriedly and you watched until his broad shoulders and the distinctive wing design disappeared around the corner of a building. You stood still for a moment until you could feel the eyes of nearly everyone in sight landing on you and sticking. Your anxiety began to rise and you gulped at the tightness in your throat. Your palms tickled. Your heart thumped.

You cast your gaze upwards and saw Achilles wheeling gracefully overhead, his tail fanned out against the sky revealing the characteristic the wedge shape of ravens. You felt a little calmer with your eyes on him and forced in a long slow breath. Then, you adjusted your pack and headed toward the gate.

You stopped at the wall and leaned against it, ignoring the curious looks from the guards up on the platform as best you could. Despite the mildness of the day, you clutched your cloak around yourself. You waited.

You didn’t have a watch, so you couldn’t say for sure how many minutes it’d been when Daryl came hurrying down the slope toward you. Dog was now at his side and—wait—

You straightened up immediately, your brow furrowing low. “Five minutes so you can grab me supplies?” Your expression was decidedly skeptical.

He shrugged. “I did,” he said, holding out a bundle of arrows.

You snatched them from him, perhaps a bit aggravated. Your narrowed gaze on him was sharp. “Going somewhere?” you said, cocking an eyebrow at him. Daryl had a pack on his back, his crossbow over his shoulder, and was wearing an extra layer he certainly didn’t have on when he went to retrieve the arrows for you.

“Turns out we’re headin’ the same way for a bit,” he drawled, undeterred by the harshness of your gaze.

“You don’t know where I’m heading,” you retorted. Achilles let out a few sharp clicks with his bill and settled down on your shoulder. The rush of air from his wings blew across your cheek. Dog tilted his head and whined, looking up at the bird.

Daryl scratched anxiously at a non-existent itch on the back of his head. “I mean, if ya wanna get technical ‘bout it,” he said.

Your eyes narrowed further. “You’re gonna follow me?” you asked, incredulous. “Seriously?”

He gulped. “If I gotta track ya, I will. S’just for a couple days, so ‘m nearby just in case. Until, ya know, yer a bit less—”

“Less what?” you snapped. “Useless?”

Now his brow furrowed to match yours. “Nah. Hurt. I doubt ya’ve ever been useless.”

Your nostrils flared as you stepped toward him, Achilles fluttering a little to stay perched on your shoulder. “I don’t need your fucking babysitting and the first chance I get, I’m gonna lose you.”

“Ya can try,” Daryl said, determined. He sighed heavily. “ ‘M sorry, okay? I can’t just—just let ya wander off in the shape yer in to get killed by fuckin’ walkers or some of them skins. I owe ya a debt for savin’ me and Dog and—”

You pointed at him, almost shoving your finger into the center of his chest. The color in your cheeks rose. “You don’t owe me a damn thing and I certainly don’t owe you anything either.”

“Tha’s what ya think.”

You let out a frustrated growl and tossed your hands up, pacing away. Achilles took off again with a high whistle and gurgling sound. “Your doctors seem to think they saved my life, so doesn’t that make us even?” He shrugged again. “I guess not to me.”

The muscle in your jaw tensed as you stared at him. He was infuriating. “Just stay the fuck out of my way…”

Daryl ducked your gaze and patted Dog before whistling to the guards above and signaling for them to open the gate.

You stifled a grimace as you adjusted your pack and strode out, with him and Dog on your heels.

It had to be close to thirty minutes before either of you spoke a word. Daryl was walking just slightly behind you now as you moved beneath the canopy of old oaks and pines. You hesitated at a small creek and bent to look at a scraping in the muddy banks, touching the marks with outstretched fingertips, chewing on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully as you examined it.

Daryl knelt down beside you, also studying the sign. “Walker,” he drawled.

You stood and rolled your eyes. “Or Shepherd. They mimic their movements.” You clutched a hand over the wound in your side as you climbed to your feet. Daryl’s fingers alighted softly beneath your elbow for a moment in an attempt to help you to your feet, but you quickly startled away, recoiling and looking at him with surprise. Your eyes were wide and almost fearful.

He stepped back, eyeing you nervously. “Sorry,” he said in a low voice. “I was just tryin’ to help ya—”

“Well, don’t,” you said severely. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

Daryl frowned and a shadow seemed to settle over his eyes as he studied your reaction. “Sorry,” he murmured again. He heard a raven croak overhead and knew Achilles was flying low over the trees.

You sighed, some of the tension leaving you, and shook your head, resuming your previous pace and stepping carefully rock to rock over the stream. Daryl followed while Dog happily splashed through to the other side, stopping and nosing around in the long sedges clinging onto the bank. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow a stranger through the woods? Like interrogating Lydia? Or preparing your community for when Alpha and her assholes show up?”

“I ain’t the leader there. Tara can handle it,” he replied, his eyes flickering over the surrounding woods. He was on edge. He sincerely hoped he could keep you from anything strenuous for a couple days. He had no problem with you being pissed off at him if it kept you from seriously hurting yourself further. He knew he could never forgive himself if something like that happened, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was just the debt he felt he owed, but that didn’t seem to entirely explain it. You were essentially a stranger, but there was something about you… He felt drawn as if by a magnetic pull. Perhaps it was just the strangeness of the life you were living or maybe the mystery you seemed to intentionally wrap around yourself like a quilt, carefully guarding yourself. He felt like he was grasping for any little puzzle piece to help him construct a clearer picture of who you were.

There was a thick silence for a few moments, but when you next spoke your voice was softer, less exasperated. “Lydia—what will happen to her?” you asked suddenly.

Daryl hazarded a careful glance at you as he came to your side. You’d slowed a little to speak to him. He shook his head. “I dunno. That all depends a lot on her, on what happens next with these Whisperers. She may end up stayin’ in that cell a long time. Or, if some things change, she could be one of us,” he said.

“Just like that?” you said. “From one of them to one of you?” Your tone was cynical.

“I ain’t sayin’ it’d be easy or—or simple,” he drawled. “But, yeah. Maybe. She’s just a kid. Like ya said.”

Another sigh escaped you and he caught the slight shake of your head. You started forward again and this time Daryl kept pace beside you instead of lagging slightly behind. “And who was that in the other cell? Your son?” you asked.

Daryl let out a scoff and shook his head. “Nah... But he’s been a royal pain in my ass so far,” he growled.

“So, who is he then?”

“He’s—my best friend’s son. He’s family. ‘M watchin’ after him for a bit while he gets some trainin’ at Hilltop.”

“No, you’re not,” you laughed wryly. “Not anymore you aren’t.”

He shot you a sideways glance, and some part of you was satisfied to see that he looked a touch annoyed. “He’s locked up. What’s he gonna do?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Give away all your community secrets to Lydia? After all, they looked about the same age and he certainly seemed concerned about what I was doing there talking to her. Teenage hormones being what they are—”

Daryl stopped dead and you slowed and turned to look at him. “What?”

His bright blue eyes were narrowed. “I know what yer doin’. It ain’t gonna work.”

“What?” you said again. “I’m not doing anything!”

“Uh huh,” he growled, starting forward again.

You laughed dryly and shrugged. “Seems like I hit a nerve…” you murmured.

Just then there was a burst of noise overhead and you looked up to see Achilles dropping back down through the canopy toward you. He let out a raucous series of caws and hovered a few feet above you, something clutched in his foot. Daryl watched curiously as you extended a hand and the bird dropped something into your palm.

Your expression tightened as you examined it. “Thanks, buddy,” you said to the bird. With your other hand, you dug into a pocket and withdrew some crimson berries you presented to him in your palm. He quickly gulped them down and flew off again, rising gracefully and twisting through the branches overhead with ease.

Dog was prancing anxiously on his front paws, sniffing eagerly at what was in your hand.

“What is that?” Daryl asked, moving closer.

You opened your hand and there was a partially bloody and clearly decomposing ear. “Achilles says there are four of the walking dead nearby,” you said softly. “He looks out for them. And for people.”

“Damn. That’s a pretty fuckin’ good lookout ya’ve got. Wish mine had wings,” he said, grabbing hold of Dog’s collar and holding him back from attempting to eat the ear out of your palm. You tossed it to the ground, however, and he got a hold of it anyway.

You tilted your head to the left. “They’re this way,” you said, starting off in that direction silently, your bow at your side.

“Shouldn’t we be going a different way then?” Daryl asked.

You looked back at him and shook your head. “No. You can if you want. I plan on putting them down.”

Daryl swore under his breath. “Ya’ve got a serious knife wound and ya wanna go lookin’ for a fight?”

“Like I said before, it doesn’t have to be a fight. Just stay quiet and hidden until the right time.” You crouched low and moved through some denser undergrowth despite the way your body ached and every movement tugged at the stitches on your side. Daryl followed, ignoring the sharp teeth of briars poking into his skin and grabbing at his clothes. In less than a minute, the two of you began to hear the familiar shuffling of staggered steps and low growls of the undead wandering toward you.

Daryl sat up on his knees and peered over your shoulder. He could easily see the shapes of them approaching. He waited. He noticed your fingers smoothing over your bowstring. Another moment and you gracefully pulled an arrow from the quiver on your back and moved to nock it onto the string.

When you stood, he stood. Before you could even bend your bow, there was a snap sound and the rush of air past your face as a bolt flew directly past you and buried itself into the center of the forehead. The figured dropped like a lead anchor.

A metallic swish came next and Daryl’s knife tumbled through the air and took out the second one. He stepped slightly in front of you and whistled to Dog, who took off after the third and took it down easily. By then Daryl had another bolt loaded onto his crossbow and he shot the fourth.

You’d hardly gotten an arrow onto your string before the onslaught. He looked back at you over his shoulder and easily read the annoyance painting your features. “Seriously?” you said tersely.

He shrugged and went to collect his knife and bolts. “Ya could rip a stitch again,” he said. Dog stood panting over the bodies.

Achilles let out a hoarse croak and fluttered down to land on your shoulder. You stroked his back and scratched under his chin as you wandered toward the downed undead. “Check for masks,” you said softly, watching as Daryl retrieved and sheathed his knife. His matching one was still at your hip. He’d insisted on you keeping it since yours had been lost in the woods during the fight against Alpha. The fact that he’d split a matching set, obviously religiously maintained, had struck you.

You lifted a foot to kick one of the bodies over and Daryl stopped you. “Whoa, hey!” he barked at you. “Lemme do that. Ya tryin’ to hurt yerself?” he growled. You rolled your eyes but stepped back. He heaved them over, one by one, and checked for masks.

“No Shepherds,” you said as he examined the last one.

“Not here anyway,” Daryl drawled, his blue eyes darting over the surrounding woods. He began patting down the clothing on the bodies, something you often did as well. Sometimes you’d recover ammo or other useful things out of the pockets.

Still slightly annoyed by his interference, you nudged Achilles who flew up off you shoulder. You whistled a single note that started low and then rose to a higher pitch. The raven croaked and descended silently toward Daryl before plucking out a strand of his wavy brown hair and then taking off again.

“Ow! Goddamn!” He jolted to his feet and looked back at you, shocked. “Did’ya tell him to do that?”

You smiled back at him vaguely and held out a hand which Achilles dropped the strand into. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh…” He glared, but couldn’t quite stop the tiniest smile from curving his lips as he shook his head at you.

“Anything good?” you asked, looking back at the bodies.

“Nah,” he said, setting a bolt back into the flight groove of his crossbow. He fixed his blue eyes on you when he straightened up again and they met your gaze and held it. You noticed then just how blue they were and felt an uncharacteristic wash of uncertainty trickle over you. “Ya really ain’t gonna tell me yer name? I mean, I feel like since yer bird just ripped out some of my hair maybe—”

You cut him off by laughing and it surprised both of you. “Alright. That’s fair. It’s Y/N.”

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh’. Y/N.”

Something about hearing him say your name produced an unusual fluttering in the middle of your chest, and you realized your body and you realized how long it’d been since you’d heard anyone speak it. You ducked his eyes and sighed. “Alright. Probably should keep moving,” you said, replacing the arrow still in your hand back in your quiver and moving around Daryl and past the walkers strewn on the forest floor. You sunk your fingers into Dog’s thick fur and gave him a few scratches as you passed him and the Malinois let out a happy noise and began walking at your side.

“Tha’s funny,” Daryl said, starting after you.

“Hmm?”

“Dog usually prefers me over ev’rybody,” he drawled.

You glanced back at him and then down at Dog beside you. “Oh. Sorry. Are your feelings hurt?”

Daryl could hear a slight touch of jest in your voice again. He liked it. It eased his worries over your condition somewhat. “Maybe a little bit,” he said.

There was another minute or so of silence before you broke it again. “I have to ask you,” you began, “what exactly is your plan here?” You were slightly out of breath and paused partially up a steep hill to look back at him. You were sore and your stamina was nowhere near normal. You could tell you wouldn’t be able to go much further that day.

“What plan?” Daryl responded.

“You’re really going to follow me for… days?”

Daryl shrugged. “Somebody should be around. Just in case.”

You sighed, starting at him and shaking your head. “There’s no way I can convince you to just leave and go back to your community?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“I’m fine, Daryl.” “Yeah, well I’ll know that ‘cuz I’mma be around. Yer stubborn, but so am I.”

“Yeah, I’m gathering that,” you breathed. You shut your eyes for a moment and pulled in some deep breaths.

“…Ya okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah…” you said quickly. “Just a little tired. And sore,” you added with a laugh, one hand coming to rest over the bandaged wound on your side.

He nodded. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said ya lost a ton of blood. It was—scary…” he drawled. “Ya wanna take a rest?”

You shook your head, your eyes moving over the trees around the two of you. “No. This area isn’t safe.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You shook your head. “It’s just not. But—I don’t think I can go too much farther today and we should be tucked away somewhere before it gets dark. I don’t think I’m climbing anything without a ladder today and we won’t make it to—anyway... I know a place that isn’t much farther that should be safe.”

Daryl was surprised that you had now seemed to accept that he’d be tagging along. You started forward again and he trailed behind you, catching glimpses of Achilles dropping below the canopy every now and again. Dog trotted between you and Daryl now, sniffing here and there and occasionally breaking off to one side or the other. It was almost like a relaxing walk through the woods…

Eventually, you came to a dead stop and Daryl looked over your shoulder to see a small cabin that seemed to have been nearly consumed by the vegetation and wild growth around it. He glanced sideways at you and was startled by how pale you looked.

“Y/N,” he said gently so you’d look at him. “You okay?”

You nodded, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. “This is our stop for the night.”

“Alrigh’. I’ll make sure it’s clear.” He whistled to Dog and this time you didn’t argue. You were exhausted. And part of you was glad to see the wings on Daryl’s back that were becoming almost familiar.

[quillsandblades]

🔫 this is a robbery, hand over your post war Levihan headcanons (please 😊)

The world needs to know

Post war levihan gives me life ok, they're both alive and happy and together and no one spoils that for me. It's canon. Isayama who?

Congratulations, the robbery was a success and here's the loot

So after the Rumbling and the Battle of Heaven and the Earth, these two retire. First they recover in the hospital, Hange’s burn injuries and Levi’s leg and they take a break to just breathe and relax. 

Once they’re on their feet (and wheelchair) Hange drags Levi to travel as many places as they can go.

Queen Historia funds their visits (Hange somehow convinced her to allocate a budget for them cuz she wanted to see everything. And as they were heroes of the war and her parents former superiors, she agreed) and they travel a lot.  

But it’s not just going places and having fun, They plan on helping out in the rebuilding of the areas affected by the Rumbling too. They go around aiding in reconstruction and Hange helps the mechanics and engineers and learns things from them too. 

Levi distributes clothes, food, and lollipops to kids who love him. Hange later teases him for looking too long at the lollipop, “You remembered that clown right?”

“No, I was thinking about how you chased after cars in Marley with carrots in your hand.” And she gets all embarrassed, crying out how she was just so excited that she couldn’t stop.  

And he says fondly, “There’s no need to get defensive four-eyes, I was happy to see you so excited after months back then.” And she blushes because wtf?! When was Levi so romantic? But then again, he was. When she was about to sacrifice herself and he’d given her his heart. 

They don’t talk about this, nor her proposal in the forest. They don’t need to, not yet. They’ve both reached a stage of familiarity and comfort with each other throughout the years which doesn’t need any words. They both just know and they’re fine with it (levihan telepathy at its peak) 

They stay with the brats whenever they stop by in Paradis—or at the palace and help out with Historia’s orphanage. Eventually they decide to buy a house since they won’t be traveling forever. It’s a nice little cabin in the woods, just like Hange had dreamt of. 

It turns into a kind of summer house, or a place to stay in whenever they stop at Paradis and rest. They have it renovated, repainted and furnished and it becomes their own cozy little place. 

Levihan eventually settle down in their cabin for good once traveling constantly becomes too hectic. They’re used to sharing a bed by now, they did it all the time in their travels, and it comes with the much needed comfort of having someone familiar close by after waking up from nightmares. 

But that night feels different, they’ve finally settled down and this cabin is no longer a temporary lodging for their stays in Paradis, it’s on its way to become their house, their home. A safe place to relax and live in. Just like what Hange yearned for in the forest when she proposed they live here together

So Levi turns to her and sees her awake as well, staring at him. They both know that now words are needed to solidify this thing between them. But neither of them know how to proceed

Hange goes first, cuz Levi may be the strongest, he’s still not the bravest when it comes to certain things. So Hange talks, shapes out their feelings into words and sentences and each sits warmly upon them both like an extra blanket in the chilly night. And when she’s done, Levi just pulls her close and there’s too many words, feelings stuck in his throat, his mind but all he can say is “Yes. Me too.” And he just kisses her, and they hold each other all through the night. 

They look after each other’s injuries, he takes care of her burns, she helps him with exercises for his leg. Both of them are a bit conscious about their injuries. There are times when Hange looks at her scarred, burnt body and she feels broken, weak and just falls into despair. She asks Levi how he can stand looking at her, how can he put up with her, does he want to? She’s not enough. 

But he takes her face in his hands and tells her she’s more than enough. And he places her hand on his own knee, the injured one and looks into her eye. It’s one of those levihan telepathy moments where he tells her with his eyes we’re both broken, you’re there for me and I’m here for you, so we’re each other’s crutches. 

Once again, they’re like two halves of a whole. Even after the war, with their flawed bodies and capabilities, they fit in together perfectly. She’s there as his support when he needs to walk and he’s there as the soothing balm to her burning scars. They don’t need anyone else. 

Things have changed, and now it’s Hange who helps Levi take a bath. She’s careful with him and Levi would tell her to wash his hair again and again, he likes how her fingers feel in his head. But the roles haven’t completely switched, he’d still drag her for a bath as well since she always neglects it. 

Levi is the cuddler.

While they both naturally wake up at the crack of dawn due to years of army training drilled into them, there are days they hold back and relax. But on those days Hange's usually the one who wants to jump out of bed first, there's just so much to do, how can she waste her day in bed? But it's levi who pulls her back and buries his face in her shoulder and cages her in his warm sleepy embrace and says, "Stay still four-eyes, those seedlings aren't going anywhere." And he just. Cuddles.

Hange goes wild in the garden, she plants all that she can get her hands on and Levi goes around ordering her to arrange it all neatly. And his help is needed, otherwise their garden would’ve been a terrible mess. He makes sure there are neat sectors to all the things, vegetables at one side and fruits at the other. 

“I’m telling you shorty, tomatoes are fruits! We’re not planting them on the veg side.” 

Levi’s got a side of the garden all for himself where he grows tea and he cherishes his little tea garden. Whenever Hange comes across any exotic or new species of tea, she makes sure to get plenty of seeds for Levi to plant. 

She goes about experimenting with plants and seeds, she does grafting and makes hybrid seeds and plants them to observe the results. They have plenty of land around the cabin and she’s got all the time in the world now. She also tries to make hybrid species of flowers. 

She works together with Levi and does the same things with tea. They end up opening a tea shop and Levi tells her it was once his dream as a kid. It gets a lot of customers, and it keeps Levi and Hange busy. Hange continues to experiment with tea and they get the most unique blends that way. Eventually they add a few other things to the menu but their tea remains the most famous one in Paradis.   

The 104th often visit their home or the shop. Armin’s often at their place, asking Hange for commander advice and they talk politics for long hours. 

Mikasa prefers the tea shop more, it’s a cozy, comfortable place, not too quiet, and not too loud. It suits her mood and the aroma of tea calms her down. Levi would often find her asleep in one of the cushy armchairs and just throw a blanket over her if it’s cold. She doesn’t like to go back home since it’s mostly empty and quiet (and she misses Eren, we don’t blame her) so Levihan often invite her over to their place. By now they’ve practically made the second guest room as Mikasa’s bedroom. She often spends the nights there and when she can’t sleep she comes out and sits on the porch. 

Levihan also have sleepless nights, so when their daughter she’s staying over they all gather outside or in the living room and have hot tea and talk to forget their worries. It’s a good way to keep unwanted memories away for all of them. The morning finds them all asleep on the carpet, Levi and Hange leaning into each other, Mikasa with often her head on Hange’s lap. 

Jean and Connie visit a lot as well, and whenever the 104th all come together, Hange makes sure they all stay the night no matter how much Levi grumbles about them being too noisy. She brushes off his complaints, he was always an old man hiding away from fun and excitement. 

They have drinking games on the porch and Hange and Levi get a lot of dares to kiss each other. They kids were always betting on them to get together, and now that they officially are, they wanna see all the proof they can get. Plus it’s good to see their tough captain all red faced and embarrassed. 

Whenever their Marley friends visit, Levi and Hange go meet them. Gabi and Falco get along surprisingly well with Levi, they steal him away from Hange for the day and zoom around the city with his wheelchair. He pretends to complain. Pretends. 

Pieck, Onyankopon and Hange get along the best together. They always fill her in about the situation of the world, the aftermath of the war. It starts out with just people collecting the pieces after the rumbling and focusing on rebuilding everything. But over the years as the states get stronger Hange and Levi get news about more conflicts, more schemes, no war in sight but the usual political disagreements and disunity. It saddens her how quickly humans revert back to their divided state, fighting once more over land or money or people. 

Pieck tells them they don’t have anything to worry about. They’ve retired, all they gotta do is enjoy the rest of their lives.  

Hange wants to write about their dead comrades, document everything about their lives within the walls and outside them, their training and the survey corps. She wants their memories to remain and Levi agrees on that. So they begin, it turns into a book with a few volumes. Hange writes down all she and Levi can remember and fills the pages with their friends’ laughter, tears and blood. The war and Paradis’ side of the story behind the genocide. 

It gets published and it’s a hit. People around the world would eventually read it (but by that time Levi and Hange would probably be dead) and it’s one of the crucial things that changes the views of the masses about the ‘Island Devils”

They talk about having children, Hange asks Levi if he wants any. The idea is nice, having a little brat of their own. But it turns out they’re too tired to manage a baby and the crying and wailing that comes with it and the attention it would demand. Besides they already do have children, the brats from the 104th. 

Perhaps if they were younger and had lived different lives, they would’ve been more serious about it. But not here. Now they’ve survived through hell and want to be selfish with the rest of their lives. And they are. 

💚💜

[ihave-atummyache]

Idk if u write poly fics but if u do,

2min × reader fluff pls 😔

i dont really write or read poly stuff bc im literally the most jealous person i know (see why i write jealous skz sm) and the thought of sharing anyone with somebody else makes me… angry

BUT I TRY JUST FOR U ANNONY

especially bc the thought of 2min is just so yes that i cant breathe sometimes!

idk the word count on this but its just a cute lil fluffy blurb(?)

coffee stains

You let out a deep sigh as you walk toward your bedroom. Neither of your boyfriends are supposed to be home, both are busy with their schedules, and you want nothing more than to be held and babied after the day you just had.

You know those days that just feel like it’s one thing after another after another? Today was like that for you. It started when you spilled your coffee on your white blouse before you even left the house. Then you had to rush and change, which caused you to miss your bus, which made you late for work. Everything else just went downhill from there.

You push the door to your bedroom open and you can’t stop the small smile that creeps onto your face when you lay your eyes on Seungmin in your bed.

“Baby? What are you doing here?” You speak up and he looks up from his phone when he notices you in the doorway.

“Didn’t want to see me? I’m hurt,” he teases and sits up when you walk around the bed and approach him.

“I always want to see you, Minnie. I just thought you had late schedules,” you speak out, your voice is obviously drained and he quickly picks up on it.

Seungmin’s arms wrap around you, pulling you down on top of him in the bed. You let out a squeak and a little chuckle. He is the type that hates when people have on outside clothes in the bed so the fact he doesn’t care right now really proves how well he knows you and knows exactly what you need.

“Mm. The weather turned bad so we had to reschedule,” he mumbles into the top of your head before placing a kiss in your hair. You let out a sigh and wrap your arms around his torso tighter.

You look over and on your side table, seeing your blouse from this morning. It’s folded up neatly and there’s no signs of coffee on it at all. You gasp and sit up quickly, grabbing the top and facing your boyfriend.

“You didn’t,” Your mouth falls agape and a shy smile covers Seungmin’s face, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips.

“I did. I saw it on the floor when I came home and figured you spilled on yourself before you went to work,” he replies and your smile on your face quickly fades, replaced by a quivering lip. Seungmin’s smile drops and he sits up, abruptly, your legs still on either side of his thighs.

“Baby?” The soft tone in his voice is enough to make the tears fall down your face and you drop your head into your hands, soft sobs leaving your mouth.

“Making her cry, again?” You hear Minho’s voice from the ensuite bathroom and turn to look at him. He’s towel drying his damp hair and has a pair of sweatpants with a tank top.

“I didn’t do anything! And don’t say again. If anyone makes her cry, it’s you,” Seungmin sticks his tongue out at Minho and you can’t stop the soft, pitiful chuckle that leaves your mouth, although the tears are still streaming.

Minho crosses the room and settles on the bed next to Seungmin. He rests his hand on your thigh, drawing shapes into the skin.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” He speaks up and you shake your head, wiping at your face. The more you wipe the tears, the more that fall from your eyes and its just hopeless.

“I just had such a bad day today,” your voice cracks as another sob racks through your chest and creeps out of your mouth. You lean over, wrapping your arms around Minho’s neck and burying your face in his shoulder.

He scoots closer to you since you’re still sitting on Seungmin’s lap, to try to make the angle more comfortable but you couldn’t care less. You already felt better by being able to get some tears out and being in the presence of your two amazing boyfriends.

You scoot off of Seungmin’s lap and squeeze your body between the two boys. You turn your back on Seungmin, grabbing his hand to wrap around your torso before wrapping your own arms around Minho’s waist.

“I just want to lay here for the rest of the night,” you mumble into Minho’s shirt. Minho places a hand in your hair, gently stroking it and Seungmin’s hand is rubbing your stomach gently before you feel Seungmin’s presence leave from behind you.

“Where are you going?” you peak up from Minho’s shirt and Seungmin’s back is to you, digging through your drawers. He pulls out one of his old t-shirts (that you stole) and a pair of your sleep shorts before making his way back over to you.

“If we’re going to lay here for the rest of the night, might as well get comfortable,” he offers you a soft smile and you unwrap yourself from Minho to sit up.

Before you can stand, Minho’s hands are under your sweater and pulling it over your head. He unclasps your bra and reaches his hand out to Seungmin. The younger hands him the t-shirt and Minho turns his attention back to you.

“Arms up,” he commands with a soft smile and you obey, lifting your arms in the air. Minho pulls the shirt over your head and down your torso before he’s unbuttoning your skirt as well.

“Lift your hips for me, baby,” his tone is so soft that you feel like you could start crying again. You lay back on the bed and lift your hips. He pulls your skirt down and your underwear before Seungmin is at your ankles and pulling the shorts up your legs. Once they’re settled on your hips, Seungmin scoots back down your body and places a gentle kiss to the inside of either one of your knees.

His hands pull your socks off of your feet and he places a kiss on the inside of either of your ankles as well before he stand again and heads to the bathroom. You hear him dig through a drawer before he’s back at your side and has a makeup wipe in his hand.

“May I?” His tone is just as soft as Minho’s. Instead of replying, you close your eyes and let your head loll towards him. He gently starts to wipe away your makeup from the day.

Your hand absentmindedly makes its way into Minho’s lap, resting against his inner thigh. His fingers trace gentle patterns up and down your arm, giving you chills but also relaxing you at the same time.

“You’re so beautiful and talented. We’re so proud of you and you’re doing so well,” Seungmin’s voice speaks up and your eyes slowly open. He leans down, his thumb stroking your cheek gently, and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You sniffle and let out a sigh.

“Do you think i’m pretty even when I’m all puffy from crying?” You ask and he immediately nods.

“Beautiful. I don’t think you can ever not be beautiful,” He confesses and you feel a blush creep up your neck.

“I agree. And you are doing so well, baby,” Minho’s voice sounds and you turn your head to face him.

“But I haven’t done anything,” your voice is quiet and a smile creeps onto Minho’s face.

“Even if you just breathed today, you’re doing well,” he smiles and you can’t help the soft laugh that leaves your mouth.

“Quoting yourself now?” you tease and Seungmin sits on the bed beside you, flipping the T.V on.

“He thinks he’s being philosophical,” Seungmin whispers to you, clearly loud enough for Minho to hear.

“You’re just jealous that I’m smarter than you,” Minho defends and Seungmin laughs.

“Yeah. Older and wiser. Much older,” he teases Minho. He reaches over and tussles Seungmin’s hair, obviously annoying him.

“Hey!” Seungmin complains but before they can continue their banter anymore, you catch them off guard. You let out a loud laugh. The first genuine laugh since you’ve been home.

“You two can turn around even the worst days,” you smile up at them and you notice the blush creeping up both of their ears, “Now put on a corny movie and lay with me,” you conclude and they both nod.

Minho scoots down and lets you lay your head on his chest while Seungmin picks some random movie. He also scoots down the bed and wraps an arm around you, spooning you. His fingers play with the hem of Minho’s shirt and Minho’s other hand is drawing shapes into Seungmin’s arm.

“I love you,” you breathe out, breaking the comfortable silence after a few minutes.

“I love you more,” they both reply in unison and you chuckle to yourself before letting your eyes fall closed, relaxing completely in your boyfriends’ arms.

[fikeoff]

A serenade under the stars

Dominic Fike had always been a mystery to you, his soulful eyes and cryptic lyrics drawing you in from the first moment you heard him sing. Tonight, though, he was more than just a distant star; he was your date.

The night was warm, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient oak tree that dominated the small park where you'd agreed to meet. You arrived a bit early, your heart fluttering with anticipation. The park was empty, save for the chirping crickets and the occasional hoot of an owl. The soft glow of fairy lights strung up along the pathway added a magical touch to the scene.

As you waited, you thought about how you’d met Dominic. It was at a small, intimate concert in a cozy venue downtown. You were in the front row, swaying to the rhythm of his music when your eyes met. There was an unspoken connection, a spark that neither of you could ignore. After the show, he approached you, and the rest was history.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Dominic approaching. His footsteps were light, almost soundless, but the moment he saw you, his face lit up with a radiant smile. “Hey there,” he said softly, his voice like honey in the night air.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. His presence was overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

Dominic took your hand gently and led you to a blanket spread out under the oak tree. “I thought we could do something special tonight,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. From behind the tree, he pulled out a guitar, its polished wood gleaming in the moonlight.

Your heart skipped a beat. “You’re going to play for me?” you asked, almost breathless with excitement.

“Only if you want me to,” he replied with a grin, settling down on the blanket and patting the spot beside him.

You sat down, your heart racing. Dominic started strumming the guitar, the familiar chords of one of your favorite songs filling the night air. His voice was even more captivating up close, each note resonating deep within you. As he played, he kept his eyes locked on yours, creating an intimate bubble that made the rest of the world disappear.

When the song ended, you couldn’t help but applaud, a broad smile stretching across your face. “That was amazing, Dom.”

He chuckled, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. “I’m glad you liked it. But I have one more surprise.”

From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a small, wrapped box. Your eyes widened in surprise as he handed it to you. “Open it,” he urged, his excitement infectious.

You carefully unwrapped the box to find a delicate silver bracelet inside, a small charm shaped like a guitar hanging from it. “Dominic, it’s beautiful,” you gasped, tears of joy welling up in your eyes.

He took the bracelet and gently fastened it around your wrist. “I wanted you to have something to remember tonight by,” he said softly, his fingers lingering on your skin.

Tears of happiness filled your eyes as you looked up at him. “I’ll never forget this night,” you whispered.

Dominic leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “Neither will I,” he murmured.

The two of you stayed there under the stars, talking and laughing until the first light of dawn peeked over the horizon. It was a night of pure magic, a memory that you knew would stay with you forever, just like the bracelet on your wrist and the song in your heart.

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 - 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 5:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1k

𝙖/𝙣: yes, this is scheduled 🥺 long before i will leave

𝙩/𝙬: tiny angst, hyunjin and minho cry, soft tickles

𝒍𝒆𝒆: hyunjin

𝙡𝙚𝙧: chan, jeongin, minho

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

The second the movie ended, Minho, Jeongin, and Chan headed to the kitchen, intent on pouring some water for themselves before heading to bed.  

“Hyunjin?” Chan circled the couch, finding the dancer scrunched in one spot on the corner of the sofa. Kkami ran up to him and nudged his leg. 

“Hyune? Is he there?” Minho followed the leader, Jeongin lurking behind him. They lifted the blanket lightly to check on the boy, shocked to find tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes on their lively dancer’s face. 

“Oh, Hyune…” Minho sighed, struggling to lift Hyunjin into his arms; he knew the younger didn’t enjoy sleeping on the couch. 

Once the dancer was comfortably situated in his arms, he headed back to his room, nestling Hyunjin onto some soft blankets and settling his head on a pillow. 

The others didn’t even have the mind to tease Minho; they were more worried about Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin shifted, cracking one eye open. Minho looked down at him sympathetically and pounced, hugging Jinnie tightly and pressing small kisses to his previously tear-stained face. 

“Hyung…” Hyunjin’s voice cracked as tears began to fill his eyes at the affection. 

Chan and Jeongin ran to get the poor boy some water. 

Minho sniffled a bit as his heart panged painfully. My poor baby…

Hyunjin glanced down at his hyung, a pout on his lips as he watched the first tear drip off of Minho’s cheek…

….and onto his neck. 

—————————

“What else should we get?” Chan asked, entering Minho’s room to grab the boy’s Jiniret plush. 

“Mch, where is it?” He groaned, opening drawers haphazardly and finally finding the plush inside one. 

“Aha!” Channie exclaimed, looking down and pausing. A brush…the same brush they had used on Hannie earlier. 

—————————

“Awh…hyung…” Jeongin sighed, watching as Hyunjin pulled Minho’s now very wet face into his chest, wiping his own tears off of his face. 

“Hyune…J-Jinnie…” Minho took the boys cheeks in his own. “I’m so s-sorry that you’re struggling.” He hiccuped, stopping to wipe his face again. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t h-help you…”

Hyunjin shook his head and cradled the kitten in his arms, to which Minho kissed his forehead gently. The kitten’s fingers fell to the dancer’s forearms, tracing along the skin gently, as a means of comfort. 

But of course, Hyunjin was too sensitive for that. 

“H-Hyung.” Giggles bubbled up in his throat. “Plehehease!!” He threw his head back. 

“Oh? Is something wrong, Jinnie?” Minho whispered into his ear, and poor Hyune gasped at the tickly feeling, squirming a little but liking it a little too much to move. 

“Nohoho!!” Hyune giggled sweetly, squealing when he suddenly felt something rough brush against his side. 

Minho looked down in surprise, noticing how Chan grasped a very familiar shape, moving it around under the dancer’s shirt. 

“AGHA—hahaha!! Thahat REHEALLY tickles!!” Jinnie exclaimed, squeezing his eyes shut when Minho scooted further down and pulled his shirt up, allowing Chan’s wrist to continue its ministrations. 

“I don’t think we should go roughly right now.” Jeongin chirped in the middle; he was curiously scratching at a sensitive spot on Hyunjin’s forearm, which had the dancer squirming left and right. 

“Me neither. Don’t worry, baby. We won’t turn it too high.” Minho gently took the brush from Chan, setting it on its lowest setting. 

He pressed the buzzing brush agaisnt Hyunjin’s tummy, and the boy squeaked immediately, giggled falling from his lips in a harmony that the others had missed. 

“Ahahahaha!! Ihihi lihihihike ihihit!!” Hyune admitted, and the others’ hearts almost exploded at the cute confession. 

Jeongin trailed his fingers up and down Hyunjin’s arms, Chan working his fingers into  his legs, mainly his ankles and calf. Hyunjin was just sensitive everywhere, allowing him to stutter some pleas through loud giggles that racked his whole body. 

Minho used one finger in the younger’s belly button, dragging the brush tool along Hyune’s exposed torso side. 

“Ohoho my gahahahahad!! Ihit feheheelss sohoho tihihihinglyyy!!” Hyune squealed, trembling from all the torturously light sensations. 

“It’s supposed to, Hyunjinnie. God, you’re so cute, aren’t you?” Channie cooed, the praise making Hyunjin’s face heat up.

Minho circled the tool around Hyunjin’s belly, while Jeongin gently traced along his thighs, and Hyunjin was shaking hard, giggles flowing out of him desperately as he squirmed away from the sensation.

Hyunjin squirmed left and right as tears dropped down his cheeks, a squeal emanating from him when the tool was stuck over his belly button, causing him to let out tiny squeaks of laughter.

“Thahhahahat tihihihickles tooo muhuhuhuch!!”

Minho giggled a bit from the dancer’s confession, only continuing until poor Hyune tapped out, tears soaking his cheeks again, but this time from happy laughter instead of the thoughts that had plagued his spirit. 

“Okahahahay!! I cahahahant tahahake ihit anhymohohore!!” 

The three men let up, now smothering Hyunjin in kisses and hugs and giggles, making sure the boy knew how much they loved him, and how much support he truly had. 

[fanfictionalraven]

Piece by Piece Pt. 8

Title: Piece By Piece Pt. 8

Summary: It’s been three months since Dean came back and things are going pretty well. Right?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Original Characters

Word Count: 3,404

Warnings: N/A

Author’s Note: This story was originally posted by myself under the account Winchestersgirl92. It was published in 2017.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 7 here.

Three months. That’s how long Dean had been back in your life. And when he was there it was great. He was always so careful to divide his time up between the two of you, taking you both out individually then spending time together as a family. M.K. loved her daddy-daughter dates more than anything and seeing them together made your heart melt every time. Once she was in bed, Dean would spend the rest of the night making you feel like you were the only girl in the world. It was almost perfect.

But he wasn’t always there. You knew it was going to be difficult, him coming and going. What you hadn’t counted on was how worried you were every time he left. You found yourself praying to whoever or whatever was listening every night for him and for Sam and even for Bobby, whom you’d never even met. You and M.K. would wait by the phone at night for him to call and say he was safe. On the few nights he was too busy to call, you’d both turn into bed for a sleepless night.

You’re standing in the kitchen now, staring into your mug of coffee. Thankfully, M.K. wasn’t awake yet. You were hoping she’d sleep a few more hours. She’d been so excited for Dean to come in last night. You had been too. But after she’d gone to bed, he’d been forced to leave in a rush. Some apocalyptic emergency. You couldn’t be mad. At least that’s what you were trying to tell yourself.

A knock on the front door draws your attention. Sighing, you set the mug down on the counter before going into the front hall. You can see the top of your best friend’s head through the window of the door and you manage a small smile.

“You know most people would consider it rude for someone to knock on their door at 6 AM on a Saturday,” you tell her once you’ve got the door open. Lily smiles back at you, apologetically.

“I was out on my morning run when I saw your kitchen light on and the distinct lack of a certain black car in the driveway. Thought you might want some company,” she says. You step aside, inviting her in. You move into the kitchen together and she makes herself at home, fixing her own coffee as you take a seat at the counter. She smiles as she stirs the sugar into her coffee. “Roses and chocolates? Guess it started as a good night.” You look at the bouquet of flowers you’d gotten into a vase last night and the heart shaped box of chocolates lying next to it.

“It did. He even brought some for M.K.,” you tell her. “And he gave me this too.” You hold up the necklace around your neck, looking at her. She smiles a little and nods before walking over.

“So you told him?” She asks. You avert your eyes to your coffee cup again quickly. “You didn’t tell him?”

“He got an emergency call from work before I could,” you confess, swirling your coffee slowly. You watch it spiral around the cup as the preceding night washes back over you.

************************************************************************

You and M.K. had settled into the couch, knowing neither of you were going to be able to sleep. It was almost 10 and Dean hadn’t called yet. Since it was a Friday night, you hadn’t been in any hurry to get your daughter off to bed., so you’d popped a bag of popcorn and were currently in the middle of Madagascar 2. M.K. had actually managed to pass out just a few minutes earlier so you reach for the remote carefully to turn off the movie.

The doorbell rings before you can hit the button. You freeze and frown quickly. It was way too late for any visitors. M.K. sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes.

“Was that the doorbell?” She asks, sleepily. You shush her and nod, rising to your feet. Quietly, you peek through the curtains.

Your pulse picks up instantly when you spot the familiar black car sitting in the driveway behind yours. But something wasn’t right. Dean had a key. He had no reason to ring the doorbell. Your mind starts to race as you rush to the door. Sam was here to tell you that Dean had been killed in a hunt. It was the only logical explanation.

You throw the door open, trying to fight back the tears and stare at what’s waiting on the other side. All you can really see are a couple of jean-clad bowlegs and two arms full of flowers, candy boxes, and a large teddy bear. You blink then break into a wide smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!!” Dean’s voice calls from behind the gifts. You start to laugh, relief washing over you, as M.K. comes into the hall.

“Daddy!!” She practically squeals. You can hear Dean laugh as he steps through the front door. You reach to help him, taking the flowers, and can finally see his smiling face.

“Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find flowers at the last minute on Valentine’s Day,” he says. You shake your head then lean in and kiss him quickly, grateful he’s alive. He winks at you then walks into the kitchen, setting everything down on the table. Turning to face M.K., he holds his arms open and she jumps up into a tight hug. “Miss me?”

“So much!!” She says, grinning from ear to ear. He kisses her cheek then turns to the table again. She looks at all the stuff then up at him and bites her lip. “Is any of that for me?” She asks. Dean laughs and sets her down. He picks up the bear, the smaller box of chocolates, and bouquet of six daises.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Baby girl,” he says, kneeling down in front of her. She squeals in delight and you shake your head as you make your way over to the sink. You pull out two vases from the space beneath it and start to prepare the water for hers.

“Thank you so much!!” She tells him, hugging him again. He laughs and plants a kiss on top of her head before standing up.

“Bring me the flowers and tell him about what happened at school today,” you say. Dean raises an eyebrow at you and you smirk as she runs the daises over to you.

“Craig asked me to be his Valentine,” M.K. says. You glance up at Dean, watching his jaw clench, and fight a laugh as you arrange the flowers in the vase for her.

“What did you tell him?” Dean asks. M.K. smiles over at him widely.

“That I already had a Valentine,” she says. Dean frowns slightly and she giggles. “You, Daddy!!” He breaks into a wide grin and you can’t help but laugh.

“That’s my girl,” he says, winking down at her. You smile and hand her the vase.

“Why don’t you and Daddy take everything up to your room and he can go ahead and tuck you in for the night?” You suggest. She frowns and shakes her head quickly.

“He just got here!! I don’t want to go sleep!! I’m not even tired!!” She says. Dean clears his throat and she looks over at him.

“Listen to your mom. Besides I’ll still be here in the morning. Promise,” he says. She thinks for a moment then nods, starting for the stairs with her flowers. Dean picks up the bear and chocolates again before looking at you. “I’ll be back for you soon.”

“Thanks for the warning,” you tell him, smirking. He laughs and runs up the stairs after M.K. You smile and shake your head, making your way over to the table. You pick up the roses and chocolates that are left and move them to the counter. Carefully, you snip the ends off each of the roses then arrange them in the vase.

You were incredibly grateful that Dean had managed to make it this weekend. He’d missed last weekend, swearing he’d be here in time for your first Valentine’s Day. But it wasn’t just the holiday you had been looking forward to. You’d had something to tell him for a couple weeks now and hadn’t had the chance. You couldn’t help but be nervous.

You’re standing at the sink, filling the vase with water, when something cold slips around your neck. You reach up and gingerly run your fingers over the small object. You bring it up enough to see the diamond shaped heart and gasp. Looking back, you find Dean smiling at you softly as he clicks the clasp of the necklace closed.

“This is too much, Dean,” you say, shaking your head. He leans in, kissing just below your ear.

“It’s actually not enough,” he murmurs, moving your hair aside. You lay your head back against his shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed as he continues to ghost kisses down your neck.

“You didn’t have to get us anything. Just showing up was a gift in itself,” you tell him. His breath washes over you as he chuckles.

“Gotta make sure my girls are taken care of,” he says, reaching over to turn the water off. You look up to find that the vase was overflowing. Dean pours some of the water out then looks down at you. “Where do you want them?”

“Just on the counter is fine for now,” you tell him. He nods and sets the vase down next to the chocolates. You push yourself up onto the counter behind you and bite your lip. “I have a surprise for you too.” He turns slowly and raises an eyebrow as he smirks. “Not that kind of surprise,” you say, rolling your eyes. He laughs and walks back across the kitchen to you. His hands come to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“It can wait,” he says, his lips finding your neck again. You sigh as his mouth works over your pulse point. One of his hands comes to the front of your jeans, easily popping the button undone. You shake your head, trying to regain your thoughts, and push on his shoulders gently.

“No, Dean. It can’t,” you say. He looks at you and frowns quickly.

“Is something wrong? Is M.K. still being bullied? Have you met someone else?” He asks, panic flashing in his eyes. You smile and takes his face in your hands, kissing him quickly.

“Nothing’s wrong. Claire hasn’t bothered M.K. anymore. And there is never going to be someone else, Dean,” you tell him. He lets out a breath and nods slightly.

“What is it then?” He asks. Your voice catches in your throat, your nerves getting the best of you. What if he panics? Just a few simple words with such big meaning that could change everything you had the moment you said them. You look up at into his eyes and just like that your nerves fade away. Dean’s looking down at you with that same care and concern he did the first night he’d picked you up on the side of the road. You take a deep breath.

“I –,”

“Dean,” a strange man’s voice says from the other side of the kitchen. Your eyes widen and you feel Dean tense up instantly. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth.

“I told you to never come here, Cas. I actually told you that if any of you came here, I’d kill you,” he says, an anger in his voice you’d never heard before. You look over his shoulder slowly to find a man in a trenchcoat standing by your dining room table. Castiel, the angel. Dean had told you about him before. He was the one who had pulled Dean from Hell.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says. Dean spins on his heels and shields you from his view quickly. You frown and place a hand on his back gently, trying to calm him down. You weren’t sure your house could handle a fight between Dean and an angel. His muscles relax slightly under your touch and when he speaks again his voice is calmer.

“What is it, Cas?” He asks. The angel glances at you then looks back at Dean.

“An emergency,” he says plainly. Dean rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. Cas sighs. “Dean.” His eyes cut to you once more and Dean frowns before nodding his head. He turns back to face you.

“I gotta go, Sweetheart,” he says. You stare at him and shake your head slightly.

“No, but –,” you start but Dean cuts you off with a quick kiss.

“I know. It’s Valentine’s Day and I promised M.K. I’d still be here in the morning but I’ll come back as soon as I can. We’ll celebrate then and I’ll make it up to her,” he says, backing towards the kitchen door. You stare at him in disbelief as he leaves the kitchen, Castiel following him. The front door opens then shuts.

“I’m pregnant,” you announce quietly to no one at all.

************************************************************************

Lily frowns as she listens to you recount the story to her. You edit it, of course, leaving out the parts about the angel and apocalypse. You’re absentmindedly playing with the necklace around your neck by the time you finish. She sighs and sets her cup of coffee to the side.

“So his boss called and he just up and left? What does he do again?” She asks. You frown and shake your head, looking at the roses next to you.

“It’s complicated,” you tell her. That was the only answer you ever gave her and it wasn’t exactly a lie. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “I can’t explain it, Lily. But it’s important stuff.”

“And you’re sure he isn’t married?” She asks. It’s your turn to roll your eyes now.

“No, Lily. He isn’t married. He just works a lot,” you tell her. She nods then opens your heart-shaped box of chocolates. Most of them were already gone and the rest have been pinched to reveal their center.

“You already eat all these?” She asks, looking up at you quickly.

“I didn’t get any sleep,” you confess. “Help yourself.” She nods and picks one up, popping it in her mouth quickly.

“So he still doesn’t know?” She asks, covering her mouth as she chews. You shake your head then frown when you hear footsteps upstairs.

“Dammit,” you mumble, glancing towards the stairs. M.K. comes running down and bounds into the kitchen. Lily smiles at her widely.

“Good morning, Rugrat!!” She says. M.K. smiles back at her then looks around. Her smile falls slowly as she looks at you.

“Did Daddy go to the store?” She asks, hopeful. You sigh and shake your head.

“He had to leave,” you tell her. Her bottom lip quivers for a moment.

“But he promised,” she says, her voice thick with tears. You hold your arms open and she runs over. Pulling her up into your lap, you wrap your arms around her tight.

“I know he did. But remember, he has very important work to do. People to save,” you tell her. She nods as she cries into your chest. You rock her for a moment then kiss the top of her head. “Wanna try and call him?” She nods again and you pick up your phone, sending a quick prayer up that he’ll actually answer. You quickly find his name in your contacts and put the phone to your ear. It rings once…twice…three times…

“Hey,” Dean’s voice comes over the line. He sounds tired and you bite your lip.

“This a bad time?” You ask, glancing down at M.K. She’s practically bouncing as she waits.

“Course not,” he tells you quickly. You smile at her.

“Well I have a certain someone who is rather upset that you aren’t here this morning,” you tell him. He sighs and you bite your lip.

“Put her on,” he says. You hand her the phone and watch as she wipes at her eyes with the back of her hands.

“Daddy? – You promised,” she says into the phone. “I know. – I know. – I know.” She slides out of your lap and leaves the kitchen with your phone still in her hand. You watch her go then look back at Lily as she eats another of the chocolates.

“You gonna tell him now?” She asks. You shake your head quickly.

“I’m not telling him over the phone,” you tell her. She sighs and looks into the box of candy.

“You are going to tell him, right?” She asks. You roll your eyes and sit up, picking up one of the caramels you had left.

“No, I just thought I’d wait another 11 years since it worked so well the first time,” you say. “Of course I’m going to tell him. But you don’t just tell someone over the phone that you’re pregnant with his second child.”

“I told Nick I was pregnant with Manda over the phone,” she says, shrugging. You smile and shake your head.

“Because Nick was overseas at the time and wasn’t coming home for six more months. Dean should be back in the next day or so and I’ll tell him then,” you say. She nods slightly as she picks up one of the chocolates and examines it closely.

“And you’re sure he won’t disappear?” She asks. You reach across the counter quickly, stealing the candy from her hand.

“He won’t,” you say, confidently. She laughs and nods.

“Good. I’d hate to have to kill Mr. Important-Work-To-Do,” she says. You smile and shake your head. M.K. comes back in, any trace of sadness evaporated completely, and hands the phone back to you. Seeing it’s still connected, you place it to your ear, standing from your stool.

“All better?” You ask as you leave the kitchen to go to your room.

“I’m forgiven. By her at least,” he says. You smile softly as you walk into the bedroom.

“I’m not mad,” you tell him, falling onto the bed.

“Maybe not. But I’m still sorry,” he says. You sigh and close your eyes.

“It’s fine, Dean. I understand. The world needs saving,” you tell him. You hear him sigh this time then he’s quiet for a moment.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” He asks. Your hand comes to your stomach. You were only about a month and a half along so you weren’t showing and you wouldn’t be for a little while.

“It can wait till you’re back,” you say.

“It couldn’t wait a couple of hours last night but it can wait until I’m back home?” He asks. Your eyes shoot open.

“Home?” You ask. The line is silent for a few seconds before he answers.

“Yea, home. Ya know, that place you and our daughter are,” he says, confused by your question. He didn’t realize it but it was the first time he’d ever referred to you and M.K. and the house as home. In that instant, any doubts you’d had about Dean and the baby are gone. You were his home. “Y/N? You okay?”

“I’m great,” you tell him, trying to hide the emotion in your voice. “I’m just tired. I think I’m gonna see if Lily can take M.K. for a few hours so I can get some sleep.”

“I know the feeling. I was on the road all night,” he says. You nod and roll onto your side, closing your eyes again.

“Well, be careful,” you say.

“Always am. Get some sleep, Sweetheart. I’ll see you in a few days, hopefully,” he says.

“I can’t wait,” you tell him. There’s a long pause, words left unspoken. While they’re never actually said, you know you feel them. You know he feels them. Actions speak louder than words and Dean always shows you just how much you mean to him. You were each other’s homes.

“Bye,” he says, his voice soft before he hangs up. You lay the phone on the nightstand beside your bed and sigh, snuggling into the pillow. You would tell Dean as soon as he came back home to you and he’d be overjoyed. The four of you would be an even happier family.

Read Piece by Piece Pt. 9 here.

[mpregtales]

Aaron & Lucas Part 3

[Part 1]   [Part 2]   ⬤   [Part 4]   [Part 5]

The fourth month marked a significant turning point in Aaron’s pregnancy. His belly had grown noticeably larger, the curve more pronounced as the life within him flourished. What had started as a gentle swell was now a distinct, rounded bump that pushed against the fabric of his shirts, a visible reminder of the new life growing inside him. Aaron often found himself unconsciously resting a hand on his belly, feeling the firmness beneath his palm, the gentle pressure of the babies as they developed. It was a comforting sensation, one that filled him with a profound sense of connection to the little ones he was carrying.

But it was the transformation in his hips and glutes that truly caught Aaron off guard. What had once been a subtle rounding had now become unmistakable, with the fullness in his glutes adding a new, more voluptuous shape to his figure. His pants were becoming increasingly difficult to pull on, the fabric straining to accommodate the expanding curve of his backside. It was a sensation Aaron had experienced before, but this time, it felt more intense, more rapid.

The plumpness of his growing glutes was now on full display—unusual for so early in the pregnancy, but Aaron wasn’t new to this, and the existing fullness was simply building upon what was already there. He found himself spending more time in front of the mirror, his hands exploring the newly rounded contours of his hips and backside, feeling the added weight that had settled there. There was a gentle sway to his walk now, a subtle shift in his balance as his body adapted to the changes. The newfound fullness gave his figure a sensual curve that Lucas couldn’t resist, often drawing him closer to Aaron, his hands tracing the soft, rounded lines of his bubble butt with admiration and affection.

Each evening, as part of his growing routine, Aaron would sit in front of the mirror and gently rub stretch cream over his belly, his fingers moving in slow, soothing circles. The cream felt cool against his warm skin, easing any tightness and helping to prevent the stretch marks that had begun to appear. He would then apply the cream to his thighs, feeling the subtle thickening of the muscles there, a sign that his body was preparing for the added weight. Finally, he would turn his attention to his glutes, smoothing the cream over the soft, rounded curves that had. Aaron carefully applied the cream between his cheeks as well, ensuring every part of his body was tended to.

While the physical changes were more pronounced, the emotional challenges were also becoming more apparent. Aaron felt a growing sense of vulnerability, a recognition of his age and the difficulties that came with it. There were moments of doubt, times when he questioned whether his body could handle the demands of pregnancy again. But each time those fears arose, Lucas was there, offering words of comfort and love, reminding Aaron that he wasn’t alone in this journey.

The relationship between Aaron and Lucas grew even stronger during this time. They spent hours talking about their hopes and fears, their dreams for the future. Lucas’s unwavering support gave Aaron the strength to face the challenges ahead, and their love deepened in ways that neither had expected.

One afternoon, as Aaron was beginning to feel the weight of the pregnancy more acutely, the doorbell rang. When he opened it, he was met with the sight of Michael standing on the doorstep, his face lit up with a warm smile. “Surprise,” Michael said, his voice filled with affection.

Aaron’s eyes filled with tears as he pulled Michael into a tight hug. “Michael, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t stay away,” Michael replied, his voice softening. “You were there for me when I needed you, and now it’s my turn to be here for you.”

Aaron stepped back, taking in the sight of Michael. His hair, once dark, was now touched with strands of silver, a reflection of the years that had passed. But the warmth in his eyes, the strength in his embrace—it was all the same.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Aaron said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I wanted to,” Michael replied. “You’ve always been there for me, Aaron. Now I get to return the favor.”

As they stood together, Aaron felt a deep sense of relief wash over him. The journey ahead was daunting, but with Michael by his side, he knew he could face whatever challenges came their way. And as they moved into the house together, Aaron felt a renewed sense of hope, a belief that they would get through this—just as they had always done before.

Part 4

The Aaron Trilogy: Aaron & David I ; Aaron & David II ; Aaron & Lucas

[geniusboyy]

Covenants and other Provisions

Chapter 16

Settled in Spirit

Fidds kept one hand loose on the wheel, the other drumming softly against his thigh, tapping along with the music—a scratchy old Eagles cassette that sounded like it had been played too many times. The tape warbled on certain notes, the melodies bending just slightly out of tune, but neither of them bothered to switch it off. The silence between them was companionable, but thick. It’s been a long day.

Outside, the road wound upwards, a gentle curve that only grew steeper the farther they climbed. The tires crunched over loose gravel now and then, a quiet punctuation to the otherwise steady hum of the car. Ford shifted in his seat, his knee bouncing in an unconscious rhythm, the restless energy that had become his constant companion still gnawing at him, even now. The road was unfamiliar—another thing to remind him how far he was from solid ground—and with every turn, with every incline, the feeling in his chest tightened, as though the higher they went, the harder it became to breathe.

“Fid,” Ford said, his voice rough, frayed at the edges. He hadn’t spoken much in days, except in clipped, disjointed fragments. He stared straight ahead, though he could feel Fidds watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Fidds said, keeping his focus on the road. His tone was light, easy, but Ford knew him well enough to hear the tension buried underneath.

Ford let his head fall back against the window with a dull thud, the cool glass pressing into the side of his skull. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, but he couldn’t relax. His body wouldn’t let him, the dull hum of his anxiety winding tighter with every second. He exhaled, the sound louder than he meant it to be. “I don’t wanna see anyone else today.”

“You won’t,” Fidds said, and when Ford cracked an eye open to glance at him, he saw the quick flash of a grin, as if Fidds could make everything better just by pretending it already was. “Just trust me.”

Ford didn’t say anything, just leaned back, trying to force himself to believe it—to believe that whatever Fidds had planned wouldn’t end with an increased level of regret for agreeing to leave the house in the first place. The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t comforting. It felt loaded. He turned his gaze back to the window, watching as the landscape shifted outside: the trees grew denser, darker, their branches spreading like fingers over the road, the light filtering through the leaves in soft, golden streams.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, throwing hues of pink and orange across the sky. But it didn’t soothe him. Ford couldn’t shake the feeling that they were moving toward something he wasn’t ready for, something that would ask more of him than he had left to give.

Fidds was talking again, but Ford barely registered the words, letting them pass over him like a gentle breeze, something light, harmless. His mind was elsewhere—still down in the lab, still drowning in work that wouldn’t fix anything, but at least kept him from thinking too much. He wasn’t in the mood for any more surprises.

When they finally pulled up, the road petering out into gravel and then into nothing at all, the view spread out before them—an endless valley stretching out beneath the cliff, the town below reduced to a scattering of indistinct shapes. From up here, the world seemed to fold in on itself, the edges blurring in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. Like something out of a painting. Fidds killed the engine, letting the car settle into silence, its vibrations dissipating into the quiet. The two of them sat there for a moment, neither moving, Fidds leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest, Ford still hunched forward slightly, his legs tense.

“This is it,” Fidds said, more to break the silence than anything, his voice soft but steady.

Ford looked over at him, unsure what to say, unsure if he even had the energy to ask again why they were here. He just nodded, the motion stiff, before sliding out of the car. He felt the shift in temperature immediately—the breeze up here was cooler, cleaner, washing away the last of the day’s warmth. Fidds followed suit, moving more casually, as though they were just on another routine errand. He climbed up onto the hood of the car, tapping the metal with his hand, asking for Ford to join him.

Ford hesitated for a moment before stepping up, the car’s metal warm beneath him, and sat next to Fidds. The two of them looked out over the expanse of land together, the valley below small and fragile, like something Ford could fold into his palm. He rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing his bruising knuckles across his palm while he took it all in.

Fidds settled back, leaning into the windshield, his posture loose, as if they were just two guys enjoying the sunset. But Ford could feel the weight of what went unspoken between them, that tension sitting between them. It had been there for a while now, in the spaces between words, silences that stretched too long. Ford kept things close, Fidds knew that—He always had. So, he didn’t press. He sat back, let the scenery speak for him.

“Fid,” Ford muttered, his voice quieter now, as if speaking any louder might break the fragile stillness around them. He stared out at the horizon, the pink and gold of the sunset bleeding across the sky, stretching farther, higher, pulling the day toward its end. “Why are we here?”

For a moment, Fidds didn’t respond. He sat up and leaned forward, reaching into Ford’s coat pocket, and with an easy motion, he pulled out Ford’s pack of cigarettes, shaking one loose without asking. “I come here sometimes when I need to blow off steam,” Fidds said, his tone casual, slipping one cigarette between his lips. He then held the pack out to Ford, who took it without a word. “It’s quiet,” Fidds continued, “gives me space to think.”

Ford didn’t respond at first, just rolled the cigarette between his fingers, watching the way the fading light cast long shadows across the valley below. The silence between them felt thick, but not uncomfortable—but the kind that had been years in the making. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, and Fidds sparked his lighter, first lighting his own with a slow drag, then holding the flame out for Ford. They resumed their positions on the hood of the car, Fidds’ legs stretched out in front of him and Ford sitting closer to the edge, his feet resting on the front bumper, the cigarettes burning between their fingers.

Neither of them spoke as they took long, steady drags, the smoke curling up into the air, disappearing before it could fully settle. The breeze was soft here, cool against their skin, and as Ford exhaled, he felt something loosen, if only for a moment. But it—the weight he carried—remained just beneath the surface, unspoken. Ford enjoyed it for what it was. For the first time today, he felt somewhat at ease. It was almost peaceful.

Fidds let out a long exhale, his eyes squinting slightly as the smoke curled up into the air. “You remember that winter break, in undergrad?” He asked, his question cutting through the chill in the air. Ford didn’t respond right away, just shifted, his gaze still lingering on the sunset. “You didn’t wanna go home,” Fidds continued, “Dorms had to be fumigated, and you didn’t have anywhere to go. I remember… I thought it was strange at the time. Like… we’d been roommates for years, and I never really asked why you never went back for the holidays.” Ford looked back at the ground for a moment, taking another puff and the memories came clearer to him.

“So when the dorms were closing,” Fid continued, “I thought, ‘Why not just bring you to Tennessee?’ I called up my folks, told them you were coming, and Mom went all out. She even learned how to make those latkes for you.” Fidds chuckled, a warmth spreading across his face at the memory.

Ford couldn’t help but smile, too, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Those were so good,” he said, resting back a bit on the car.

“They were.” Fidds agreed. “She made a huge batch, didn’t she? Way more than I thought we could’ve eaten. Of course she did. And you did eat them, every single one.” he said with a laugh. The smile on Ford’s lips grew at the sound. “My little brother, though…” Fidds went on, chuckling and leaning forward. “He was what—eight? Didn’t get it at all. He was like, ‘Why’s Ford here, how’s Santa gonna get him his gifts?’ All serious, like you were some kind of secret operative.” Ford huffed a laugh at the story, puffing methodically as he listened to Fidds recall it. He remembered the details, of course, but it was nice hearing it. “And then when you tried to explain, but he just kept pushing. You should’ve seen your face when you were this close to blowing the whole Santa thing wide open.”

A stronger laugh escaped Ford’s lips, genuine and warm, like the last rays of sun shining over the mountainside. “I never expected to have that conversation ever in my life. I didn’t know what to say,” he said, shaking his head. “Would’ve ruined the whole shebang.” There was a spark of amusement in his eyes.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the laughter hanging in the air like a sweet aftertaste. The warmth enveloped them as they sat on the car hood, the gentle breeze whispering through the trees and the distant sounds of the mountains—a chorus of rustling leaves and the soft murmur of wind.

Fidds’ grin faded slightly, morphing into a softer expression as he leaned back again. “You know, I think a lot about that trip.” He said, tilting his head slightly. “It’s when I first started really piecing things together. About you.”

Ford’s smile faltered a bit, his gaze back on the sunset, nearly finished now.

“I didn’t really pay attention before. The way you always left the lamp on in the dorm—I thought you were just up late reading, y’know? Never crossed my mind there was anything more to it.” Fidds flicked the ash from his cigarette, his voice quiet, softened by memory. “But at my place, you did it again… every night. There weren’t any tests to study for, any projects to finish. It was just us. It clicked for me.” Fidds paused, letting a few moments slip by, like he was weighing his words. “And even then, it took me another couple years still to finally figure out why.” he said. “I figure it’s the same reason you keep everything wrapped up.”

Ford sat still, his gaze fixed somewhere off in the distance, but his shoulders had stiffened, and his fingers toyed absently with the fabric at the edge of his coat sleeve. He closed his eyes briefly, just a second, then let out a measured breath. He didn’t meet Fidds’ gaze but held himself there, listening, like he was bracing himself.

“But once I saw it—I couldn’t stop seeing it.” Fidds’ continued, his voice a shade softer now, almost tentative, breaking through his usual steadiness.

Ford’s jaw tightened, just a fraction. It felt like being unwrapped, a slow unspooling of things he kept bound up tight. He shifted his weight, leaning just slightly against the car hood, as if its solidity could keep him from unmooring.

“It took me years to realize it,” Fidds went on, his voice a low murmur, like he was pulling together threads of his own thoughts, letting the words settle. “But it’s like… once you notice someone carrying something, the way you do…” He hesitated, thumb rubbing over the worn filter of his cigarette. “You were always so good at hiding it, Ford. I thought you were just—invincible back then, y’know? Like nothing could reach you.”

Ford gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his gaze shifting down to the gravel beneath his feet. He pressed his lips together, feeling the familiar tension of things unsaid tightening in his throat. The words hung there, filling the air between them, but he couldn’t look up, couldn’t meet the unguarded understanding in Fidds’ eyes.

“But now…” Fidds said, turning to look fully at him, his voice dropping to something steadier, clearer, “I just see that kid. Still afraid of the dark. Always folding in on yourself, like you can’t let anyone see. You carry it all, like if you let even a little slip, the whole thing’s gonna come down.”

Ford’s shoulders dipped, his fingers finally going still as if, just for a moment, he might let himself feel the weight he carried—letting it settle in, solid and undeniable. The tension had loosened between them, the silence thick and grounding, but strangely easier, like they’d landed on a shared truth they both recognized. They sat there, on the edge, but they were doing it together. And in that stillness, Ford felt the faintest warmth, something almost like gratitude, pooling into that hollow place he’d been desperate to fill. It was simple, unforced. Just them. And, for now, that was enough. The weight didn’t feel like a burden.

“Ford?” Fidds’ voice broke in, low and steady, pulling him back. Ford glanced over, their gazes finally meeting.

Fid studied him for a moment, a soft, crooked smile playing at the edge of his mouth, eyes gentler than Ford could remember them. “You don’t have to carry it alone,” he said, his voice almost a murmur, like a confession. He paused, swallowing as if weighing the words. “I don’t care if—” A faint, shaky breath escaped him. “It wouldn’t make a difference. If you left the light on.”

Ford felt his lip tremble, and he quickly looked away, swallowing hard as he took a nervous drag from his cigarette. He clenched his jaw, his leg bouncing again, but the words wouldn’t come. Fidds was onto him—had been for a while now. There was a sense of inevitability in the air, a moment where honesty would either surface or slip away. Ford wouldn’t be able to give him the whole truth. How could he? Where would he even begin? The truth was so knotted and complicated and unbelievable. And with Bill gone now, it’s not like he could show him.

But maybe the details didn’t matter. Not really. Fidds had a hunch, like he always did, an instinct that was maddeningly close. Ford knew he wasn’t asking for a revelation—just confirmation that he’d seen the cracks. “Do I… have to say it out loud?” Ford’s voice was almost a whisper, and even then it trembled around the lump in his throat.

Fidds didn’t press further. Instead, he let the silence settle, then shifted, sliding his arm around Ford’s shoulder, pulling him in with a gentle but sure grip. “No,” he murmured, simple and steady, his fingers pressing firm against Ford’s shoulder as though he could will away the tension still knotted there.

Ford let out a shaky breath, feeling something he hadn’t expected—a quiet, almost startling relief. They’d been down this road before, too many times to count, but every time, the sense of release caught him off guard, settling warm over him against a winter chill.

“Thanks for agreeing to join the project,” Ford managed, blinking away the sting that lingered in his eyes. His voice was softer now, stripped of its usual edge. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Fidds didn’t respond right away. He gave Ford’s shoulder a steady squeeze, a wordless acknowledgment. “I’m glad you asked,” he said at last, his voice quiet but certain. He held Ford’s shoulder a moment longer, as if wanting to say more, before letting go and hopping off the hood of the car, landing with a soft thud on the gravel below.

He took a few steps forward, hands in his pockets, then looked back over his shoulder. “Come to the edge with me.”

Ford hesitated, glancing out over the horizon before finally flicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping down from the hood. His boots crunched on the gravel as he moved toward the cliff’s edge, each step deliberate, almost reluctant. Fidds waited a few paces ahead, hands still shoved in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the valley stretched out far below them.

Something about the quiet here, the view that seemed to stretch on forever—it was peaceful, sure, but it brought with it a weight he could feel settling into his chest. The day had left him raw. The silence around him felt strange, almost unnatural. He’d spent so long wrapped up in the endless pull of work, the constant thoughts of Bill still present in his mind, that moments like these seemed strange now, as if he didn’t belong in the quiet.

Bill’s absence had been so loud today, despite everything—or in spite of it.There was something about all that had happened, like it was all intentional somehow. Meant to torment him. He felt the press of everything he’d held back—the weeks of empty, sleepless nights, the way he’d poured himself into his work just to avoid facing that void head-on. How things went at Reggie’s, the fight, and now here, at the edge of the mountain; he was face-to-face with it, the weight of it all.

Ford’s thoughts shattered as Fidds inhaled, sharp and sudden, then released a loud, open-throated yell into the vast, empty air. The sound cut through the quiet, jolting Ford back into the present. He looked over, bewildered, watching the echo roll out across the valley until it faded into nothing. “What the fuck was that for?”

Fidds turned to him with a grin, unbothered by Ford’s confusion. He clapped a hand on Ford’s shoulder, still chuckling a bit. “I do that a lot when I’m up here, too,” he said. “It’s cathartic, just letting it all out like that. Letting go. Feel like you can finally breathe after.”

Ford let out a small, skeptical laugh, shaking his head as he avoided Fidds’ gaze. “I don’t know, Fid…”

“Oh, c’mon, big guy,” Fidds teased, stepping back just a bit, giving Ford space and that steady, insistent grin that somehow made it all seem possible. “Do it. Let it go.”

Let it go. Three simple words, thrown out like a rope, like the answer to everything, something you could just set down and leave behind. It sounded so easy, like he could just look out into the endless stretch of sky and valley, breathe deep, and shed all the weight he’d been dragging. Like it was something that could be done by choice. He glanced over the edge, the sharp drop that seemed to go on forever. For a second, he imagined what it would feel like if he really could let it all go, if he could just let the air take it, that ache that had settled deep into his bones. But everything lingered. He could feel the pull, every small tether that still held him there, that he couldn’t shake.

Because it wasn’t just about letting go of Bill, or the memories of him, or that restless, hollow ache that had followed Ford ever since the silence began. It was about the small things that brought Bill back in flashes, haunting his periphery. The little glimmers that had him whipping his head around, thinking he’d seen a flicker of gold in the corner of his eye or caught a flash of him in a crowd, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’d hear Bill’s voice like he used to—smug, taunting.

But that hope—that wild, impossible hope—always settled back into him like lead. Almost a month had passed since he’d last heard Bill, and still the silence rang louder than he could bear, pressing into him harder each day. It was the stupidest, smallest things that got to him. A particular shade of blue he’d see in the sky, a ripple in the air that felt like his touch. Every one of those glints was a dagger, each one a reminder that, no matter how much he hoped, Bill wasn’t going to come back. That he’d been left with a hollow too deep to fill.

And every day, Ford lived through it again, the same realization, settling in like cold metal in his chest. Every day, he woke up a little more aware of how final it felt, and the glimmers of hope, those foolish sparks, grew less and less frequent. Fidds was right; maybe he needed to let go. Maybe he even wanted to. But wanting and doing were worlds apart, and that space between them—that cavern he couldn’t cross—felt like all he had left.

Maybe there was something to it. He watched Fidds, standing there loose-limbed, looking at him with that crooked, easy grin. Fidds always did seem to move through life like it was nothing more than water; even when the current got rough, he’d just flow along, somehow always keeping his head above the waves. Ford had spent more time than he’d admit envying that about him, the way things never seemed to stick to Fidds, the way he could let go as naturally as breathing. Maybe that’s why Ford thought, even if only for a second, that Fidds was on to something. If this was something he did to get by, it was worth a try. Fidds made everything look easier, anyway. Maybe it would feel silly—just some shout into the empty night—but maybe that was the point.

He chewed his lip, the taste of salt and smoke lingering on his tongue as he worked over the thought, rubbed his thumb absently over his knuckles, still clenched and rough beneath his fingers. He shifted, taking in a quiet breath, but it was sharp, thin. He couldn’t quite catch it, couldn’t bring himself to take it all the way, and before he knew it, he’d let the breath go again, without a sound, without release.

Let it go, he told himself, the words hollow, echoing back at him in the same stubborn silence that had followed him up here. He clenched his hands again, tighter this time, and tried to convince himself he meant it. Ford took in another deep inhale, letting the night settle in his lungs, steeling himself, like this time he could just force it all out. But as he held his breath, he almost felt it as it flashed in his memory, Bill’s fingertips tapping against his skin, that thoughtless, rhythmic drumming that he used to do when they laid together. It was small, insignificant. But the image came anyway.

He clenched his fists tighter, his knuckles whitening as he fought the impulse to hold on. Then he remembered, a shared glance across the lab, Bill’s amused smirk, the way he’d tip his head just slightly. Private, a look that no one else ever saw. Ford’s chest tightened, a flicker of heat spreading across his face as his breath remained caught behind his teeth. Ford’s fists began to shake. The edges of those details cut into him, refusing to stay contained—He remembered the way Bill chewed on the inside of his cheek when he was thinking.

Ford could feel his shoulders starting to tremble, his breath seeping out choppy and uneven. A few moments passed, flashes slipping through his defenses like cracks opening in ice. Bill’s laugh—low, quiet, meant just for him. And then a memory that stung, his voice, gentle, saying Ford’s name in that way that made it sound like it was his to keep. The world around him faded into those small, sharp details, everything receding as his vision blurred.

“Ford?” Fidds’ voice broke the haze, a soft tether pulling him back. Ford blinked, feeling the heat spilling down his face, and tried to shake it off.

But then the sobs came, raw and broken, something ripped from the deepest parts of him. His legs buckled, giving out beneath him, and Fidds reached for him instinctively, pulling him close, easing him down into the dirt. “Ford, hey—it’s okay,” Fidds whispered, his hand firm on his shoulder, holding onto him. “I’m sorry… It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Ford couldn’t stop, the grief spilling out in ragged breaths, his fingers gripping Fidds’ arm with the desperation he couldn’t hide anymore. Fidds’ hand stayed steady on his shoulder, and Ford could feel him breathing, matching the rise and fall, something steady in the chaos. He wanted to find a way to voice the ache in his chest, to share the agony, but all he could do was cling tighter, the words lost to the silence between shaken breaths.

And he knew then, that no matter how hard he tried—he couldn’t do it. This weight would remain, woven into him, unable to let it slip away.

—

As they entered the cabin, a silence stretched between them, loose but weighted, like something heavy draped over both of them. Fidds lingered by the doorway, one hand on the edge of his coat, watching Ford move quietly past, shoulders drawn in, gaze low. The car ride back had been thick with the kind of stillness that makes you aware of every breath, every shift in your seat, and Ford had barely looked up the entire way. Now, as he slipped down the narrow stairs toward the lab, his steps careful, almost practiced, he seemed to disappear into the shadows with an ease that struck Fidds in a way he couldn’t quite name.

Ford felt the familiar ache of exhaustion settle into him, wrapping itself into the places that had long grown used to bearing it. There was comfort in the lab’s narrow walls, in the sharp hum of equipment waiting to be used. He felt a pull to the tiny rituals he could rely on: the quiet stacks of books, the way his papers lay in their usual order, untouched. Here, he didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to feel. Just work. Just that.

Fidds watched him go, the sting of regret settling in, thick and sharp-edged. He’d thought maybe a night out would ease some of the strain, give Ford a breath of something lighter, but all it seemed to do was fray the edges of whatever Ford had been holding onto. His reaction suggested a far heavier burden he’d let on in that half-choked confession on the cliffside. Fidds’ attempts to help felt clumsy now, like he’d fumbled into something delicate without fully seeing it, and in doing so had only left Ford more exposed, making his want to further retract.

Back in the lab, Ford sank into his chair, forcing his mind to focus, to clear. His fingers were unsteady, but he pulled a stack of readings toward him, pages full of scribbled notes, equations, sketches of geometric symbols he hadn’t quite finished, patterns that he was sure held answers if he could only see it. He gripped a pen, leaning forward as he tried to trace the next connection, the next step—but everything blurred, the lines swimming.

He rubbed his eyes and forced himself to write, methodically, his pen cutting sharp strokes into the paper. He scrawled calculations, numbers that only half-cohered. He could feel sleep pulling at him, heavy and unrelenting, but he pressed harder, dug his fingers into the pen, determined not to give in. If he could just stay here, in the rhythm of the work, maybe he’d find it again—the energy, the sharpness. Just one more set of figures.

But his head kept dipping, his hand slipping in jagged lines across the page. He pushed through, breath shallow as he clung to the final threads of his work, but it was slipping, fading, until, finally—his head dropped forward with a hard thud.

The impact jolted him awake—he blinked, the feeling of confusion settling in. Something was off. The weight in his hand felt different. His eyes flicked to the right; a standard #2 pencil was in his hand. His heart stuttered in his chest.

“I’m out of number 2 pencils.” He said out loud.

He felt it—the presence he hadn’t felt in weeks, burning at the back of his neck. He turned, slowly, every muscle tensing, and there—straightening the creases and folds of his lab coat sleeves, right where he’d left him. Their eyes met, and he straightened, ready to work.

Bill.

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[qwimblenorrisstan]

Pillow Fight | Aedion x Reader

Summary: After all of Terassen is sick of the constant bickering between you and Aedion, Aelin sends you both out together on a quest to slay a beast, and not to return until you have its head. On the way, you are forced into a small inn room with him, only to find that it has…too many beds.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: None! Other than a poor, poor salamander

A/N: This was entirely inspired by reverse trope prompts by @out-of-jams (tyyy), but I got a lil carried away, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You two had been traveling nonstop, first through the ice-cold territory of the White Fang Mountains, then back to Annielle, then to Ellywe, all because Aelin had sent the two of you on some wild goose chase for a creature you were pretty sure by now that didn’t even exist.

Mainly because everyone in Terassen’s castle had grown tired of the hateful looks you and Aedion constantly threw at each other, or the shenanigans you pulled off just to piss him off, or the other way around. The both of you were the closest of rivals if not enemies, and maybe more.

Aelin had given you a look that clearly said, “Get your shit together before you come back.” And then promptly kicked you both out.

There had been a ward placed that stated neither of you could enter Terassen for more than a day until you returned with the head of the creature.

And so you two had ventured out, still glaring at each other, spitting hateful words and accusations.

And as you arrived inside the poor, shabby-looking inn you’d found in Innish and paid a few coins for a decent room, the little maid woman led the both of you to a room. She gave an apologetic look as she opened the door with the set of keys.

“It’s all we have,”

She said, opening the door and dropping the key in your hand before scurrying off back to the front desk where a bell now rang.

You and Aedion stepped inside, gaping at the room you now beheld in front of you.

“Holy fucking shit, that is a lot of beds.”

He swore viciously, mouth agape at what seemed like miles of beds in every shape and size before you. It shouldn’t, couldn’t, be possible. The room alone must’ve been bigger than the entire Inn at this rate, bigger than Innish itself maybe.

Miles of beds, blankets, and pillows of every manner.

“Goddamn..”

You muttered, and you and his eyes met, both bewildered, but with a temporary agreement in your gazes. A temporary peace treaty between you two, until you figured out what the hell was going on.

“Do you think we can-“

He asked, voice trailing off as he tried to open the door, turn the knob, but it didn’t so much as budge. His eyes went wider, panicking as you tossed him the key, and surely enough, it didn’t work. Aedion slammed his weight against the door, harder each time, but it didn’t move at all.

He glanced at you, eyes wide as he turned his back to the door, while you watched the bedding around you.

“Help me out here,”

He hissed, and you snapped out of it, but when you turned and began walking to where the door should’ve been, instead there was a mattress. Then, every wall you’d glanced from was now mattresses, the ceiling being mattresses, both of you trapped in an infinite bed-hell.

“Okay, maybe we just…ate something poisonous on the way here, and we’re hallucinating. Maybe we can sleep it off.”

You suggested, and though Aedion gave you a doubtful look, both of you were panicking and desperate for any solution at all. You were trapped. Completely, utterly trapped.

“Let’s..uh, build a shelter.”

He suggested in a gruff tone, despite the sheepishness in his face as you scowled.

“A pillow fort?”

You asked in a disbelieving tone, and he shot you a glare, beginning to pick up mattresses and make a base, for walls to settle into. Wherever the mattresses were taken, more appeared to settle into their place. You started helping, mattresses being tossed his way, some even whacking him on the head, purposefully most of the time.

It wasn’t long until you had a decent little structure built, somewhat like a giant gingerbread house made of beds. Pillows lined the insides, as well as a giant nest of blankets the both of you had made. Neither of you dared let go of your possessions or put anything down, in fear it might disappear completely.

He cleared his throat, sitting on the other edge of the giant nest, opposite from you. You raised a brow at him, and the words he seemed to be struggling to even get out. Swallowing what was left of his pride, he lifted a pillow in one hand and kicked one over to you, sheepishly smiling before he spoke.

“Wanna have a pillow fight? I mean, you don’t have to, but me and Aelin used to..and I just-“

His rambling was stopped very quickly as you grabbed a pillow and slung it over your shoulder, hitting him full speed in the face as he made a small “oomph” and laughed. He stood, and you did as well before the both of you were slinging pillows and mattresses and whatever else you could find in this place, previous hatred long forgotten as you both giggled and laughed like children, grinning and crying tears of laughter.

Pillowcases were everywhere, feathers too, and whatever else had been stuffing the inside of some of those pillows also spread across the inside of your fort by the end of it, both of you snorting in laughter and panting for breath as you lie side by side with each other.

“If I were as good with a sword as I am a pillow, it would be over for you, Aedion Ashryver.”

You huffed, though your insecurity with swordplay managed to sneak into your voice slightly. Maybe even your scent, as Aedion noticed it. You were an absolute wonder with a bow, but swords and daggers and all that? Hopeless.

“If I were as good with a bow as you are, it’d be over for everyone.”

He said, trying to make light of it, although he was insecure of his skills with a bow. He’d seen you at work before. He knew how to handle blades and swords and whatnot, but bows? He could barely aim straight.

Your face contorted in a small frown.

“Yeah, but you’re good as hell with a sword, anyway. Why would you need to handle a bow?”

You questioned, slight confusion contorting your features. Aedion only blinked, before frowning back and mimicking your question slightly.

“Well, you’re good as hell with a bow. Why would you need to handle a sword?”

You just blinked. A bit of discomfort crossed your face before you spoke, quieter than before.

“I dunno, it just seems like something I…should know. I guess I was just jealous of you.”

You begrudgingly admitted, and something in Aedion’s chest both warmed and panged with something else. He wasn’t used to seeing this side of you, vulnerable and exposed.

“I’m the sword guy, you’re the bow guy. I was a little jealous of your…bow-er-y, I guess.”

He admitted with a shrug, and the tension and hatred between you two lightened as if almost gone. It had just been jealousy keeping you two apart. You snorted at his words.

“You mean archery?”

“Oh, whatever.”

The both of you lay in silence for a moment, hands above your heads, bodies relaxed and stretched out as you just thought and stared into the roof of your mattress-fort. Eventually, he spoke first.

“Y’know, you aren’t that bad.”

He said, and you smirked, glancing over at him. He smirked back as you replied.

“Yeah, you aren’t that bad, either.”

It was then when it happened, the faint glow in the center of your blanket nest, more like a horde of blankets with how disheveled it was at this point. The pillow in the center, placed there so you two could prop your feet up in comfort, was faintly glowing.

Aedion was on it before you could touch it, carefully poking and prodding, before shrugging, more to himself than you, as he pulled a knife out and ripped it open. Inside the pillow, was none other than a decapitated salamander’s dried-up head.

You both cringed at it, even as you shifted up and spied the little note that fell from the inside of the pillow. Carefully picking it up, you read it aloud, glancing at Aedion first, and he listened.

“I’m overjoyed to know that you’ve found the mighty beast that’s been terrorizing Erilea for months, and that you’ve enjoyed your little outing, take your time coming home - Your favorite Queen.”

A salamander.

Everything they’d gone through, Aelin had sent them hunting for a goddamn salamander, just to set this up. As soon as you handed the note to Aedion, and he folded it into his pocket as well as the lizard, the room returned to what would be a normal Innish one. The pillow fort was gone, the miles of beds gone, only two normal-sized beds, creaky floorboards, a small bathroom with a tub, and whatnot.

“Oh, I am going to smite her for this-“

“Not if I can first!”

You and Aedion both burst out the door, now working normally by whatever magic Aelin had worked to make you two be trapped here until you weren’t insufferably hateful to each other anymore and practically flew from the streets of Innish, traveling as fast as you could back to Terassen, a certain hawk sometimes stalking your journey as if checking up on you.

Each time it left as soon as it had come.

You and Aedion were not only united in friendship now but also the urge to show Aelin just how pissed you both were about the stupid mission she’d sent them on. Though you both knew it was for your own good, and that you wouldn’t actually do anything.

[somber-sapphic]

Oooh Im loving the new prompts!! :)) Anychance of seeing 22A with the ‘Not A Word’ sickie type please? :))

Maybe seeing Nat not being allowed to attend a mission and being pretty annoyed about it? :))

100% Not Sick

Natasha is 100% not sick. She couldn't get sick. That was just not a thing that happened. Until it did.

Hope you like it @goldenempyrean!

Word Count: 1318

-----

“Romanoff, go back to your room, I don’t have time to argue with you right now.” Steve snapped, frowning at the red-nosed assassin. She was quite literally pouting, her typical tough glare replaced by a cute little scowl. You were half smiling, hiding your slight smirk behind your interlaced fingers. 

“Who the hell do you think I am Rogers? You don’t dictate my damn life, I can handle one fucking mission!” She yelled back, her voice barely above a whisper. You could tell that her throat must hurt by the way she talked and the slight tug on the edges of her lips as she swallowed. 

Steve took a step towards her and she naturally did the same, both of them settling into what could be considered a fighting stance. Neither was willing to back down and you couldn’t actually guess who would win. 

Natasha was sick, probably feverish and obviously miserable, but said misery was probably fueling her rage. Steve on the other hand was in tip top shape, well rested and physically unable to contract an illness. 

You could see Tony’s eyes boring into you, he wanted you to intervene, but you really didn’t want to get into this. Plus, you were mildly interested. You were pretty sure that Steve would back down but that would only be because Natasha was sick and he didn’t want to beat up a sick woman. Which the redhead would ultimately see as a challenge and would probably end up doing something stupid. Like attack him stupid. 

“Agent Romanoff, stand down. Go back to your room or I will have you escorted.” You wrinkled your nose at the Captain's words, leaning back in your chair to watch the chaos unfold. After nearly two years of dating the woman you knew better than to step in when she was like this, it would only embarrass her and then she’d fight you on not being sick and it would just end up with Steve and Nat back at each other’s throats. 

“What did you just say to me? You’ll have me escorted? How exactly do you expect that? Who do you honestly think can take me?” She ended her seething rant with a harsh sneeze against her elbow. It sounded gross and you were like 80% sure that it was incredibly contagious. If Cap could get sick, he would have.

“Look Rogers, you worry about you, I’ll worry about me. Right now, I’m worried about catching a villain.” Their faces were inches apart now, Natasha’s glistening red nose practically against Steve’s chin. The height difference was quite amusing. He rolled his eyes and stepped back, falling back into a more relaxed position. 

“That’s what I thought. Y/l/n, come on. We’re going.” She ordered, snapping her fingers at you. If she were in any sort of reasonable mental state you would’ve called her on it, but she was in boss mode. She also hadn’t slept in probably three nights, she was definitely running a fever and her stiff movements indicated that all of limbs hurt. 

You stood, plastering a gentle smile on your face. She stepped away, looking almost like a cornered cat. 

“C’mon love, let's go. I’ll make some tea.” You coaxed, slipping your hand into hers. She sneered at you, eyes widening in panic. You knew that she was new to this, that she hated being sick and she hated showing weakness even more. Now you were in front of the whole team, being watched. Of course, no one was really watching the two of you, but she was still humiliated. 

“Y/n,” She started, her tone warning. You squeezed her hand gently and began to tug her away from the conference room. 

“Just let me.” You dragged her out of the room, ignoring the sounds of protest and her tugging away from you. Normally you’d let her just do her thing, especially when it came to a mission, but there was just no way that you could let this slide. There was a fair chance that Natasha would get herself killed if she went on that mission. 

“Y/n, are you kidding me? One, I’m not sick. Two, I can handle myself!” She grumbled, sounding slightly defeated. You looked back and shrugged, giving her a little smile. 

“Come on, it’ll be nice! Plus, I’m exhausted. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Maybe we could just watch a few movies in bed?” You suggested, pulling her gently into your room. She huffed as she sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms over her chest in a show of anger. 

You sat beside her and squeezed her shoulders, leaning over to kiss her neck. She grumbled her unhappiness again and she frowned at the floor, seemingly ready to stab you. There were countless ways that she could kill you just sitting there, but she never would. She loved you too much for that. 

“Please Natty? Just for a little while.” You pleaded, beginning to undo her tight braid. She sniffled quietly and sagged against you, her facade faltering just slightly. You gently removed a few bobby pins and laid a hand on her forehead, humming your disapproval. 

“I’m not-”

“I know honey. Lets get changed into something more comfortable, yeah?” She nodded and put her head on your shoulder, seeming to accept that she wasn’t feeling well. It was like as long as you didn’t say anything she was willing to do what she needed to get better. But there was probably no way that you could get her to take any medicine, that would be a later issue. 

It took a bit of coaxing but you managed to get Natasha into a soft, cotton t-shirt and flannel pants. You weren’t exactly sure why she was so insistent on wearing her uniform, but for some reason she was very angry with your attempts to help her. Which of course, made sense. You had fallen for the most stubborn woman you could find. 

When you were finally both changed and laying down, Natasha had her head against your chest, finally giving in. Her anger had changed to utter misery though you still wouldn’t be saying anything about her illness. You knew better than that. 

“What do you want to watch, love?” You asked, running your fingers through her curly hair. She shrugged and mumbled a response into your shirt, cuddling a little bit closer. You looked down at her, wondering if you’d even need to turn the TV on to get her to fall asleep. 

“How about Parks and Rec?” It was one of her secret comfort shows that only you and Clint knew about. She was supposed to like action movies and sometimes she was a fan of hockey, but she loved a good comedy. She was especially a fan of Ron Swanson. She enjoyed his blunt attitude. 

“M’kay.” She hummed, letting out a deep sigh. You turned on a random episode, the room flickering in soft blue light, but you weren’t interested in the show. All you could focus on was the sleepy redhead laying on your chest, making soft unintelligible sounds. 

“M’not sick.” She said after five minutes, jolting you back into reality. You chuckled quietly and kissed her hairline, unhappy with the fever that you felt radiating from her skin. The next time she woke up you’d get her some medicine.

“Of course not. But even 100% not sick people need to sleep, right?” 

You felt her smile against your skin and you smiled back, entranced by her beauty. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you felt your eyes closing, but you knew that Natasha had fallen asleep long before you did. It wasn’t like you loved your girlfriend being sick, but it was nice to hold her. It was nice to play caretaker instead of the other way around.