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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 15 days

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Tavern: knight!price x princess!reader

this part is a little longer but it had to be. it's under 3k!

You and your ladies in waiting sat in the solar after lunch. You had spent the better part of the day speaking with your mother about suitors and delegating other potential kingdoms for trade, effectively draining you of most of the energy you had.

A new suitor was to show in a week or so. You tried your hardest to not let it ruin your mood so instead of thinking about it at all, you decided to preoccupy yourself with your embroidery with your ladies in waiting.

"Did you see Sir John training the squires the other day?" Lady Katherine said which piqued your interest. "Normally he lets the other knights do it."

"Maybe he did it to impress you." Another lady teased and you watched Katherine's face turn pink.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Despite her chiding she smiled bashfully at the thought. You could only imagine what was going through her mind about her and Sir John if he ever decided to court her.

How his touch would be gentle and leading with the same softness he had shown on the day he had tended to your wound. How effortlessly he would protect you with a practiced hand that wouldn't make any mistakes. The way his gruff voice would sound as he spoke with you about anything and the way his blue eyes stared with perfect attention.

You could only imagine how his beard would feel against your fingertips or how it would feel against your face-

"Your highness," Lady Katherine's voice brought you out of your thoughts and you quickly had to hide the way they had made you feel breathless. ''Did you ever find out who your secret admirer was?"

"O-Oh, no." You composed yourself. "But I haven't received another gift, so I assume they've given up."

"It's for the best."

You nodded, not at all bothered by it. In fact, while you hadn't forgotten the gesture your mind had moved on from an unknown admirer to someone much more tangible, though no less unattainable.

"If only Sir John would send you flowers." One Lady teased Katherine.

"Oh hush!"

There was a knock at the door and Sir John stepped into the room after you called out to let him in.

He froze when he realized that all of the ladies were there. He shuffled uncomfortably in his spot when he realized that everyone was staring at him, especially Lady Katherine who could hardly hide the love look in her eyes.

His eyes snapped to yours and he sucked in his lips before he bowed.

"Your highness, I was under the impression I'd be accompanying you today." He said and your eyes widened.

You had planned to go to the fields today for another chance at distracting yourself yet you had completely forgotten about it because of the circumstances but also because of him.

"Oh yes, now would be a good time for that."

The ladies in waiting all took their leave, bowing to you and then saying goodbye to Sir John as they left the room, hiding their coy smiles the best they could. Even Lady Katherine found it difficult to hide her bashfulness while he only stood there awkwardly, sucking his lips in as he gave them all a stiff nod.

He shut the door when they left and you raised an amused eyebrow at his expression.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted something." He cleared his throat but you shook your head with a smile.

"No, I'm glad you came when you did." You're not sure if the relief came from the conversation being cut off or because you were going to your favorite place. "I've looked at this enough, I'm quite sick of it."

"Why's that?"

You gave him the piece that you were working on as you tidied up the solar. You suddenly felt shy, so you kept your back to him while you tried to find the necessary items you wanted to take with you to the fields.

"It's better than anything I could do." Price said and you chewed on your inner lip. "The colors look nice."

"The others are better." You shrugged but he scoffed.

"I like yours."

You caught yourself before you could smile and scolded yourself for feeling so foolish over something so small. What were you, a child? You had never known a man, no matter the status, to care about something like embroidery so you were sure he was just saying it to flatter you...even if he sounded genuine.

"It's a good way to pass the time when you have it." You picked up a book before a thought crossed your mind and you looked back at him. "What do you do for fun, Sir John?"

"Follow you around." He said immediately without looking up from your embroidery piece.

You laughed, thinking he was joking until he looked up at you, his eyes full of sincerity. Your smile fell and you tapped your fingers against the book.

You hadn't thought about how you took up most of his time. You assumed that he had time to himself when you were busy but the more you thought about it them more you realized that he was most likely busy even when he wasn't by your side.

"You're serious?"

"On the rare occasion I'll play cards or have a pint at the tavern on the days you decide to stay put and I have nothing else to do." He explained and you frowned slightly.

"Do I really keep you that often?" You couldn't help the slight guilt you felt.

"I'm not complaining, your highness."

You hummed, not convinced but you honestly didn't blame him if he actually was. You forced him to go everywhere you wanted to go, though only because your mother wanted it, and considering he was busy often it was no wonder you two bumped heads as often as you used to.

You wanted to change it up this time, to give him a chance to enjoy something he liked doing and the perfect idea came up in mind. Not only would he get his chance but you would also get the chance to have some real fun and a better opportunity to ignore the looming responsibilities.

Price was about to say something when you grinned.

"I've thought of something even better than the fields." You said and he almost looked concerned. "We'll go to the tavern tonight for drinks."

"Pardon?" His eyes widened and he stared at you as if you had grown three heads. When you repeated what you said he shook his head. "No, you're not going to the tavern."

"Why not?"

Price's face scrunched up slightly and he sucked in his lips as he shook his head with disbelief. He couldn't believe you would want to go to the village tavern, a place that was the complete opposite of what you called fun.

"It's not a place for a princess," he began and you gave him a look.

"That's never stopped me before." You pointed out and he looked almost in pain.

"It could be dangerous-"

"Then bring the other knights. I'm sure they'll enjoy a couple drinks as well."

Price sighed heavily, knowing that you weren't going to back down from this idea even if he tried his hardest to make you see that it most likely wouldn't end well. However, when he saw the twinkle in your eyes and the way that you seemed more excited about it than just going to the fields, he relented.

"An hour." He bargained and you placed your hands on your hips. "It's for your safety, your highness."

"Fine." You sighed. "We'll leave tonight, when everyone's gone to bed."

"As you wish."

Price helped you down from the horse before he glanced at the bustling tavern. Of course you had to choose a night when it was busy and of course he couldn't give you a firm no.

It wasn't that the villagers were bad people but alcohol did things to folk's minds and the last time he was here a fight had broken out over a game of cards.

Simon, Kyle, and John all walked in first with varying degrees of excitement. They were happy to get a couple drinks especially after having worked hard for the entire week.

"You're still on duty," Price had told them with a firm look. "Her safety is the top priority."

"Aye, but I doubt you'll be far from her." John had winked despite the glare he received.

He left it at that and hoped that despite everything, they would at least try to stay vigilant for any potential assailants.

Price had to stop himself from keeping some sort of hold on you. He barely touched you as it was but as he walked protectively behind you towards the tavern he couldn't help the growing urge to grab your hand, to hold you close to him so he could make sure you wouldn't get hurt.

When the two of you stepped into the tavern, all eyes went on you and it grew deathly silent. All of the villagers were wide eyed, a sort of uncertainty falling across them as they stared at you.

He clenched his jaw and his hand rested on the dagger he brought with him.

However, you were undeterred as you gave them a polite smile.

"No need to stop because of me." You told them before you walked towards the bar.

Price followed close behind you, his eyes on the patrons who slowly went back to what they were doing despite their confusion. Soon the noise began again and the familiar lively atmosphere returned.

He stood close to you as you gave the bartender a smile, who bowed to you in return.

"Unfortunately, I don't carry any wine for you, your highness." He said but you shook your head.

"That's fine, just give me what everyone else is having." You said and Price raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure your highness?" He wondered and you tilted your head. "It might be a more bitter than what you're used to."

The bartender put two pints on the bar and you carefully grabbed one before you nodded for Price to take the other. You stared at the liquid inside it before you looked up at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I think I'm quite used to bitter, I'm around you often." You teased and he rolled his eyes.

"Cheeky." He clicked his tankard against yours and waited for you to take the first sip.

When you did he had to hide his smile behind his tankard as you struggled to stop your nose from scrunching up. He puffed out a few laughs when you frowned and failed miserably to hide the disgust on your face.

You sighed heavily and gave him a weak smile when you swallowed.

"We can leave." He offered genuinely but you shook your head.

"I'm trying new things." You took another drink and forced it back. "I wouldn't dare back down now."

And you didn't. Before Price could stop you, you had drunk two pints and were already working on your third. He tried to stay close to you as you drunkenly visited with the villagers, speaking to them as if you were old friends, but you were too fast for him, even drunk.

He sat himself down at a table in the corner where he could watch everyone and you at the same time. He kept his eyes on you and watched your every move. He was on edge even when Simon gave him another drink.

The tavern got more lively and eventually someone asked you to dance with them.

And when you began to dance, it seemed like nothing mattered anymore.

Price watched you dance with warm cheeks and a warm chest. There was something in the way that you were smiling, the absolute joy on your face that made his shoulders loosen and made a smile of his own spread across his face. The life in your movements and the lack of the usual poise was enough to have him imagining things he probably shouldn’t.

Things like how it would feel to be the one dancing with you, to be the one who held you close and felt your fingers caress his skin. The one who knew what your lips felt like against his own, to know that he was yours and you were his.

They were dangerous thoughts, ones that gave him a feeling he knew but didn’t dare name. Not when the law forbade it, not when he couldn’t have it.

“Play a round, old man.” Simon sat across from him and slid over a deck of cards.

A soft sigh escaped his chest and he grabbed the deck. He relaxed more, knowing that the other patrons in the tavern weren’t dumb enough to cause trouble, though he kept his eye on you, and began to shuffle the cards.

After a few rounds and a couple more drinks, you finally made your way over to him out of breath but a dazed look in your eyes. Simon gave you his seat, which you thanked him for before your eyes lit up at the cards.

“Oh! How many have you won?” You looked at Simon who grunted with a frown, which made you laugh. “I should expect nothing less, Sir John.”

“It’s nothing but luck.” He told you and you smiled.

“Teach me.”

“It’s a lot different than chess.”

“I know, so teach me.”

Even if you were safe within the tavern, Price liked that you finally sat across from him. He tried his hardest to explain the rules to you, though the two of you were a little too drunk and the tavern was too loud to properly play, you both still had fun. Well, Price had more fun since after the first round, he couldn’t stop winning.

“You’re cheating!”

“I’d never cheat you, your highness. You’re just awful at the game.”

As the night went on you slowly found yourself unable to ignore the problem at hand. Even if you weren't sober and even if this had been one of the more enjoyable nights you've had, you couldn't escape your fate.

The tavern was a lovely distraction and you were happy that Price had enjoyed himself too, but now as things slowed down your mind wandered.

"Another suitor is coming." You told him softly and his face hardened. "A prince. He sounds nice, better than the king."

"Yet you sound upset." He watched you.

You weren't as upset as when you were going to be married to the king but he could still see the hidden overwhelmed feeling in your eyes. He knew that your mind was racing, that no matter how much you tried to distract yourself it was there.

"Suppose I'm just nervous. I know how it's going to go."

Price remembered what you had told him and couldn't the slight anger in his stomach. Again the queen had failed to tell him, especially after the last time, but it was more than that. He hated how upset it made you, he wished he could take it away or at the very least make it easier for you.

His loose tongue spoke before he could control it, the ale making it easier for him to say his thoughts even when he normally wouldn't say it.

"Then I'll get more violets."

Your eyes widened and you stared at him with an unreadable look. You were drunk, so maybe you had misheard him but the more you thought about it the more you realized that it made perfect sense and you couldn't believe you hadn't thought about it before.

Sir John was the only one who knew the fields and the violets made you happy before you were given the bouquet. He was the only one who went to the fields with you, the only one who actually listened to you.

He gave you the flowers the first time.

Your chest warmed and you blinked away any tears before he could see. An overwhelming feeling washed over you, one that you weren't sure you had a name to as you watched him shuffle the cards. It was soft, warm but also so violent as you realized it would spell death for him if you were ever to indulge in it.

"Are you tired, your highness?" He asked softly, noticing the way you got quiet.

"Yes." You sighed because truthfully the alcohol was making you sleepy but selfishly you didn't want to part from him even when you'd see him tomorrow. "But let's play one more round. Then we can leave."

Price nodded a small smile stretching across his face.

"Maybe you'll win this time."

"Play me in chess and you won't gloat anymore."

a/n: to be seen is to be loved and knight!price is the only one who sees you

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @sofasoap

#knight!price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price #john price #call of duty #princess!reader

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wheels-of-despair · 4 months

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The Best $7 Eddie Munson Ever Spent Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: In the fall of 1983, Eddie bought something he thought was cool… but he didn't realize how important it was until a year later. Contains: Uncle Wayne, shopping, time-jumping, snuggles, a little bit of Eddie and Evil Woman's early days. Words: 1.3k

The best $7 Eddie Munson ever spent was at a thrift store just outside of Hawkins, Indiana, in the fall of 1983.

But he didn't know it until a year later.

The night before his Uncle Wayne disappeared for Thanksgiving - the man had worked overtime on every holiday he could, since he'd determined that Eddie could take care of himself - he slapped $40 on the kitchen table between their TV dinners.

"Wha'sis for?" Eddie asked through a mouthful of noodles.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Eddie swallowed and repeated, "What's this for?"

"Sales everywhere on Friday. Go get yourself a new coat, it's supposed to be a bad winter. And a pair of gloves that still has the damn fingers in them. Looks like I'm raisin' a hobo."

"Does not," Eddie mumbled as he swirled his fork around the pasta in his bowl. He liked his old coat… even though it was faded. And coming apart at the seams in a few places. And the cuffs were so frayed, every time he tried putting it on, his fingers got caught in the threads. And there was that hole from when he'd gotten caught on a chain-link fence during a high-speed getaway. But he'd patched it! And the gloves he'd cut the fingers out of were cool!

Wayne looked up from the piece of bread he was buttering to give his nephew a pointed stare.

"Fine," Eddie gave in. "Thanks, Uncle Wayne."

"Yeah, yeah." The old man's eyes twinkled as he waved off his nephew's thanks and took another bite.

Being a practical and frugal-minded teen, Eddie started the search for a coat at his favorite thrift store.

"Hey, kid," greeted George, the store's owner, who barely looked up from the battered Tupperware he was sticking price tags on. "Just got a pile of 8-tracks, haven't even priced 'em yet, you interested?"

"Business before pleasure," Eddie grinned at the gray-haired man. "I come seeking winter-wear."

"Winter-wear, huh? Good call. Heard it's gonna be a rough one."

"Yeah, that's what my uncle said, too," Eddie nodded.

"Check the back wall, might be somethin' back there that'll fit ya."

"Thanks!" Eddie carefully treaded through the crowded aisles of discarded treasures and found the wall of outerwear. He flipped through cheap plastic hangers holding neon windbreakers, matted fake fur, and load of crunchy raincoats that reeked of cheaper cigarettes than his. And then… he found it.

It was long, and black, and it was way too big for him.

But when he put it on and turned around, it swished around his calves and made him feel like a vampire in a cloak.

Eddie walked to the grubby mirror leaned up against the wall and checked himself out. It was whole. Almost new, even. It was warm, and he could easily fit it on over the lighter leather jacket and battle vest he wore year-round. He lifted his arms out, and the fabric rippled to his sides. He reached for the edges and pulled them away from his body, holding them out to see just how big the coat was.

It made him look like a bat.

He lifted the paper price tag attached to a button-hole by a string.

$10? Sold.

He twirled in the mirror, watching the fabric rustle and sway around him like a creature of the night. He held up an arm to cover his mouth, like he was hiding his fangs. Yep. This is it. This is the one.

He took it off and draped it over his shoulder, deciding to see if any cool t-shirts had arrived since last he'd looked. He sorted through the rack quickly. Nothing new, but you can't win 'em all.

Eddie returned to the front with the coat, and George laughed when he spotted it. "Kid, I could fit five of you in that thing."

"I like it," Eddie grinned. "It's roomy. How 'bout those 8-tracks?"

George heaved the box full of newly acquired 8-tracks onto the counter so Eddie could dig through them. It was mostly show tunes and Christmas music, but he enjoyed the hunt nonetheless.

"Nothin'?" George asked when Eddie looked up.

Eddie shook his head. "A Partridge Family Christmas isn't really my style."

George laughed and scribbled ".50 each" on the flap of the cardboard box. "Will you find a spot for that in the front window?"

"Yessir." Eddie picked up the hefty box and walked it to the front of the store. He moved some creepy dolls and nudged a red tricycle aside to make room, placed the box down with the price facing the window, and returned to the counter.

"Just the coat, then?"

"Yessir."

"$7."

"$7?" Doesn't the tag say $10?

"That thing takes up too much room. I can fit four more in its place."

Eddie grinned and passed his cash to the man behind the counter.

"I'd ask if you want a bag, but I don't think I have any I could fit that monstrosity in," George teased as he handed Eddie his change.

"Thanks, George," Eddie laughed and collected his coat. "See ya soon."

"Stay warm, kid."

The morning Wayne came home from his long and tiring holiday stretch, he found far more change than he'd expected on the table, two pairs of new gloves… and a hulking mass of black draped over the back of a chair.

Wayne picked up the coat and held it out in front of him, marveling at its size. Well, it was warm, didn't have any holes in it, and clearly hadn't cost an arm and a leg. He folded it and put it back where he found it, spotting a note underneath the cash.

"Coat was $7. It'll come in handy when I finally become a vampire."

Wayne snorted.

"Gloves were buy one, get one free. I can show you how to cut the fingers out of yours if you want to look as cool as me."

He rolled his eyes at the boy snoring down the hall, put down the note, and started getting ready for bed.

"Why is it so fucking cold? I'm freezing my balls off."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend of three months in the Hawkins High parking lot. Most of the sensible students went on inside when it was this cold, but his girl - who hated this place as much as he did - decided to stick it out with him outside until the bell rang and forced them in.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Her eyes rolled and her teeth chattered.

He checked his watch - seven minutes before the bell - and took one last drag off his cigarette. He exhaled as he dropped the butt on the ground and put it out with a twist of his boot.

"Wanna go in?"

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. Stubborn.

"C'mere, then." Eddie unbuttoned the massive black coat he'd bought the year before - now decorated with band buttons on the lapels - and held it open to her. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Come on," he urged.

She looked at him suspiciously. Shit, was this weird? Was inviting your girl into a coat cocoon more of a six-month thing? And then she walked into him. He wrapped his arms and his coat around them both and felt her relax against him almost instantly. She slowly slid her arms around his middle and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Oh god, oh god, did she just nuzzle her cheek into him?!?

Eddie was glad she couldn't see the grin on his face. He tilted his head down and let his hair fall around his face so no one else could see it either. He leaned his cheek against her head and inhaled the scent of her, closing his eyes and wishing the bell would never ring so they could stay just like this forever.

What had George said the day he bought this coat? That he could fit five people in there?

Eddie was quite happy with just two.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x evil woman

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tiyoin · 10 days

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me yapping about azul

since seeing the recent 'leaks' for the new octavinelle 'chapter' in the twst manga

I was wondering how Azul would show you he likes you

maybe its from him boasting his achievements while you're in ear shot to let you know just how accomplished he is. because after all, the3 ladies love a well rounded guy 😼

but he makes sure to reel it down a bit when he thinks you might think of him as full of himself (to which he is to some extent.) mainly because he heard you grumble the other day about how pretentious some of the students are. he agrees! stop acting like you achieved something when you haven't!

he's different because[insert list of achievements]

he seems like the type of guy to subtly listen to your food preferences (by sitting near you in the cafeteria during lunch time) and oh boy! there's now a special dessert at the monster lounge for a limited time only!

oh no... one of the twins are serving you and he/ one of them creates some kind... spectacle in the lounge. yes its unprofessional and it kills him. but he makes it seem like some customers had a bad day and decided to take it out on his poor helpless employees

(boohoo, cried the wolves in sheep's skin)

he has no other choice but to go up to your table and apologize for you... rowdy neighbors.

"it's fine-"

no! he cannot have a first time guest think so poorly of him. here- you already ordered their limited addition dessert, how about he gives you another one for... 15- no! 20 percent off! everyone else has to pay full price though... yes even your other neighbors who he merely apologizes to about the disruption

azul is a cocky coward to sum it up

he plays the game well, but also has no idea what to do. plan all he like, charm all he likes. the reality is, is that is not getting him closer to you. not yet that is.

he's calculative. I mean, you have to be to be running a successful business at 17. see! he is good at everything (why are you bringing up gym. that's pointless in the business world. is he not in good enough shape? he is strong despite his skinny stature... so who cares about stamina.-)

he's smart, kind (eye roll), and a hoot to be around!

after azul has 'crafted' his personality to you through subtle gestures (he only does around you), kind gestures (only to you...) and his off handedly brags about his feats and reasons he’d be a great boyfriend (through 'subliminal messaging'

he's going to move onto plan B! where he slowly intagrats himself into your life. mhm.

so when you and grim are looking around for a partner in the first year second year crewel assignment, azul is a kind enough senior to offer his assitan- no there's no catch.

he just thought that you would need all the help you can get- not that you're dumb, but with... azul doesn't even need to finish his sentence before you’re both eyeing grim sashaying his way to the chemicals.

so prefect? what do you say?

oh no, you happen to bump into the table and am falling with the beakers and test tubes? no worries! azul is there to play knight in shining armor and grab you, hoist you up, and protect you from the falling glass that shatters into smithereens on the ground.

yes crewel is yelling at you but see how reliable he is!! not only is he smart and... handsome- but he is a natural protector!-

just dont smile at him like that while you tuck your hair behind your ear- it makes him feel... queasy (that's what they call butterflies azul)

while merpeople are shown to be more touch centric than everyone else. when you accidentally touch Azul's finger when handing over a beaker, azul is lucky that you're on his right side where his long strand of grey hair. effectively blocking your vision of his blush striken face-

NO HE'S NOT ILL- does he look it?” “well… your face is blue-“ (you're so innocent he just wants to strangle you ugh. how utterly adorable) it's just... ridiculously hot in here, dont you think? boy he's parched.

he swiftly makes an exit to the bathroom to get. a. grip. he almost let his carefully crafted charismatic personality slip and show you-… no time to dwell on the past.

something tells him that he shouldn't be leaving you, grim and chemicals alone.

WHY IS JADE FUCKING LEECH AT YOUR TABLE??

THAT NO GOOD-

he was just helping? azul narrows his cerelium eyes at his vice dorm leader. helping with what exactly, jade? the project? …ha yeah right you no good leech.

when you tell azul about how jade was saying he- azul- was just as good at potion making as the benevolent sea witch. azul 'humphs.' why of course he is. as the dorm leader of- ....yes he did have a lot of time to study in his childhood and has been doing stuff like this for a long time. what about it.

azul can't help but feel.. irritated. what else did jade say to you? hmm?

oh.. that was all? clearing his throat, he looks back at jade who is wearing a shit-eatting grin. the eel-mer lowering himself into his seat, eyes looking up as the amber eye catches the light of the potion room. it's that sadistically percerted grin he likes to wear when he's up to no good. having sowed the first seeds of his discord and is waiting for another opportunity to tend to his garden of chaos.

whatever. lets just focus on the assignment. yes prefect he is fine.

azul doesn't like for things to go sideways. he has plan A through Z all thought out and ready to go at any minute. but when a number is added to his perfectly organized letter plans, that's when his knuckles turn white and his nails dent his palms.

the leeches are always there to keep him on his toes. he just thought that he kept his... admiration for you under good enough wraps that his two pesky workers wouldn't find out, not until later when your relationship is closer. but nnooooOOOoo

it was his own fault for underestimating them after all.

but time and time again he has prevailed through such hardships and will continue to best them when they think they can toy with him. and to win, means getting you no matter what those two whisper in your ear, and what they don't.

#azul x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎#azul ashengrotto x reader

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missnancywritesfanfic · 10 months

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Grocery Shopping ft. Anemo Boys

(Based On Stuff My BF and I Have Done)

Characters: Venti, Xiao, Heizou, Kazuha, Wanderer(Scaramouche), Aether

Contains: Modern AU, Everyday Life, Fluff, Swears

A/N: I was at the grocery store and the idea popped in my head 🥰

VENTI - Humming Along To The Music

From the moment you stepped inside to the moment you leave. He will be humming. Tapping his finger to whatever royalty free song is playing over the speakers. You used to asked him why he never listened to his own music when you were shopping.

"But if I did that, then I'd be ignoring you. Isn't it better to be together in the moment?"

"Yeah, in the moment of Funky Town for the thirtieth time? I'm flattered."

It gets worse with every trip. It slowly evolves into mumbling the lyrics, then singing the lyrics out loud, swaying along to the music, and sometimes full on dancing with no remorse. Not a single bone of shame in his body, and you have to watch your boyfriend shake his ass while you facepalm.

"I am never taking you shopping again."

"We both know that's a big fat lie, babe. You love having me around~"

God, you hated his smug grin. Let this shopping trip be done as soon as humanly possible.

XIAO - Carry All The Groceries/Steer The Cart

He will always man the cart. Don't you dare take it away from him, he has pouted at you before when you absentmindedly grabbed one and started shopping.

You seriously have no clue why he enjoys it so much, but you can't complain, it gave you time to actually focus on picking what you wanted. And you didn't have to worry about navigating traffic in the aisles. But he will nudge the cart into you when you're taking too long, you'll always turn back to meet his glare.

"Are you done yet? We need to get a move on."

"Hey, I am the chef of the house. If you don't like how I pick the ingredients, you can cook for a change."

That'll usually shut him up. He'll still silently nudge the cart into you though, after a while you get the idea and pick up the pace. When you finish shopping, he will always take the heavier bags. Even when you offer, he insists that it isn't an issue and leave you with the lighter bags. Sometimes nothing at all.

You appreciate his help, not like you wanted to carry them anyways. You still have to scold him about being delicate with the eggs.

KAZUHA - Cannot Decide On What To Take

"Baby, for the love of god, please pick a thing and stick with it!"

You've been in the aisle for over five minutes, he can't decide on what kind of rice to buy. This isn't a price issue. Kazuha's stuck thinking in the longterm: What kind of rice is best? Should we buy a bulk bag to last longer? Which type will work best with dinner tonight? (It's Jasmin. Always Jasmin. Cheap and reliable.)

You don't care! You just want to be in any other aisle but this one! But you're being hypocritical, you've done the exact same and everytime he'll give you a specific look. Nothing else, not a frown, not even a smug grin, just a look.

"Okay, but why does this package say sugar-free but it has the same level in the nutrients on the back?" You pause and glance over, you frown. "What?"

"I haven't said anything, dear."

"You don't need to. I know that look, it's Kazuha for I'm Judging You."

HEIZOU - Comparing Item Prices

He's the type of person to lay out all his options and pick the cheapest one with the best quality. There may be meat on sale today, but he knows it's only because they're going to expire soon. This can be useful at times, no need for bottom tier food in your household.

But that's not the worse of it. Like many middle aged home owners, he will deliberately check for mistagged items so that he can get them at a discount price. There's an air fryer he's been eyeing for months that's too expensive for a leisure purchase, until the day he spots that it's been mistagged for thirty dollars cheaper than normal.

"Heizou, honey, we can just wait until it's actually on sale..."

"Ah ah~, the price labelled is the price offered. I will be taking my prize!"

"You're insufferable."

You're at the checkout, silently apologizing to the cashier and manager that are trying to find a way out of this predicament. Unfortunately for them, he gets the airfryer. And unfortunately for you, he doesn't stop using it for a loooong time.

WANDERER - Buy Old People Snacks

He doesn't like sweets. He visibly cringes everytime you pass by the bakery section or candy aisle, and you have a horrible sweet tooth that can never be quelled.

However, he's gotten into the habit of picking up dried cranberries of all things. Now, usually you don't pass judgement on his choices, despite him making it clear he doesn't care if you. Regardless, you can't help poking fun at him every once in a while.

"Pfft, nice choice granpa."

"Shut up, you shovel junk down your throat like it's your day job."

"Yeah, but at least I act my age."

"You mean five?"

If you ever, and I mean ever, try to take some for yourself. He will smack your hand away and give you the nastiest glare. Don't bother with whining or fake tears, you should've thought about that before insulting his food choice. You won't be able to steal any of his food for a good month.

AETHER - Asking Permission To Buy Stuff

You have no clue where it comes from. Before you started dating him, he and Paimon were impulsive spenders. They used to empty literal shelves and have more food then they knew what to do with (Paimon usually ate most of it in record time). But now, when you're heading down the aisle, he'd sheepishly hold a box of cereal, maybe cookies, or even fruit snacks- and give you the biggest puppy dog eyes possible.

"Aether, you are a grown man. You can buy whatever you want."

"Really?"

"Yes! Buy ten of 'em if you really want to!"

Okay, maybe that's a bit overboard. But you needed to exxagerate to make your stance clear. Maybe he was trying to be considerate of you? But you always split the bill when it came to paying for groceries, a couple extra dollars wasn't going to kill you. Especially not with your shared salaries.

But if you're not careful, Paimon might end up eating you out of house and home. So maybe he had the right idea about clearing these choices with you first.

#reader insert #genshin impact #fluff #genshin scenarios #genshin x reader #venti x reader #xiao x reader #heizou x reader #kazuha x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #aether x reader #traveler x reader #modern au #swearing #domestic

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captjprice · 3 months

Note

What about ghost with an s/o who's just as stoic and closed off (mostly with strangers but more open than him in a relationship) as he is and always looks so done with everything, mostly quiet and only gives one word answers or no answer at all, sarcastic or gives a side eye when someone makes a stupid comment and has a dark sense of humor but they're actually very sweet and gentle once you get to know them???:)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

A/n: I am finally getting to requests ugh

Mentions: fluff, sfw, Simon is scared shitless by romance, angst(?????), but not really

Intimidated wasn't really the word Simon would use in this case, because Simon Riley did not get intimidated.

Yet, he felt a bit odd seeing you. He wasn't sure what to think of you. All of the others in the taskforce were like an open book— So open and friendly, so unlike him. And then there you were, cleaning your gun with an expression on your face that told everyone to promptly fuck off.

Price had noticed you weren't.. falling in the group that smoothly, just like Simon hadn't at first. He assured everyone you were a delight to work with.

Simon wasn't so sure of that, but still, he decided to join you, cleaning his gun as he sat down next to you. Kyle was rummaging around as well, eyeing you. "You two look extra jolly today," he snorts. You don't reply, only looking up at him with a glare. He seems to understand the message, clearing his throat and giving nod. Simon raises a brow, glancing over at you.

He wasn't sure why, but Simon was so incredibly intrigued with you— you barely spoke, and when you did, it was the kind of comment only you could laugh at, and occasionally Simon too. He didn't really notice it himself, but everywhere you were he wouldn't be far behind, trying to start conversation.

It was uncanny, how badly he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to know everything about you, while ofcourse keeping himself at a safe distance.

The bar has flooded empty, leaving only you and some other taskforce members in a quiet booth. It's another late night of celebrations, and you, for once, haven't drunk yourself wasted. You gaze over the booth, watching the other men laugh, occasionally patting each others arm or back.

But Simon also seems to be sober, watching over the others with an almost tired look in his gaze. When your eyes meet, you give a soft smile. The others won't remember much of the evening, let alone you smiling at someone.

Your sudden expression makes Simon's eyes widen a little, especially because all you've been up to now was an isolated grump. He shifts, then gives a nod. When your eyes don't budge from him, he stands, awkwardly shuffling past the others to sit down next to you. "Awful lot, aren't they?" He asks gruffly. You give a nod, sipping your drink and clearing your throat. "And I thought it was bad when they were sober." You say, smiling. "Well, believe me, it can get even worse than this. This is only when they're tipsy." His words make you let out a hearty chuckle, and he smiles in amusement at it. You're not as half as bad as he thought you'd be.

"I have a feeling by the time they're completely drunk, I'll be at home nice and warm in my bed." You state, giving his arm a slight nudge. "Why's that? Not into celebrations?" Simon asks, his eyes focused on you. You shake your head. "I only drink if I want to be miserable." Now it's his turn to laugh, even though it's only a quiet chuckle.

That evening replayed in his mind, you had been so friendly, so approachable that he was wondering why he hadn't talked to you earlier.

"Hard at work, I see." You retort with a little chuckle, watching Simon gaze at the wall with unfinished reports in front of him. He clears his throat, looking at you. He'd get so lost in his head sometimes..

When he doesn't respond, you step closer. "You okay, Simon?" Your voice is so soft now, nothing compared to how you'd bark orders or remark comments sometimes. He gives a little nod, trying to ignore how his chest aches at your sweet tone. "Yeah." Simon glances at you, seeing you holding coffee. You'd made it a habit over some time now to bring him some whenever you could. "That for me?"

You nod, setting it down. "You should take a break, Si." The nickname makes him perk up. "Just not my day today. It's fine." Somehow, you don't really believe him. "Are you sure? I'm here for you. I'd like to think we're friends. Friends do that for eachother."

You're being too sweet, all of a sudden. What happened to you glaring at him, rolling your eyes? He shakes his head, waving you off. "It's fine. I have work to do."

He comes back to his barracks that evening to a little note from you, slid under the door with your number and a little heart on it.

#cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mwii #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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killmongerskeeper · 1 year

Text

Royal Surprise // Shuri

Summary/Request: Ouuuu that Shuri smut had my mouth watering. Can you do one where she sneaks away from Wakanda to see the reader who is currently in college in the states? - Anonymous

Pairing: Shuri x Hbcu!FemReader

Warning: Fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

You let out a sigh as the pencil in your hand tapped away at the notebook on your desk. Trying to figure out the solution to the equation printed on paper was starting to give you a small headache. It was also a pain that your roommate was no help. You were smart but not on her level. Hell, even your girlfriend could answer this question just by glancing at it. She may be the princess of Wakanda but her brain was non comparable. One of the smartest people you know.

"Still can't figure it out?" A voice broke you from your thoughts and your eyes found your roommates figure.

"Not yet." You said and she laughed at the way your eyes glared through the braids hanging in front of your face.

"Come on Y/N. You got it." She said walking towards the door as she slung her bag over her shoulder, headed out the door.

"Yeah with no help from you Riri." You scoffed wishing she would just give you the answer. But according to her, it would help you learn it. "Why can't I just pay you like everyone else?"

"We've known each other for too long to do that. Plus I enjoy watching you struggle. It's what best friends are for." she shrugged feeling way too amused at you failing to answer the problem.

"Haha. Where are you going anyway? Your next class doesn't start for 30 more minutes." You asked and she held up her phone.

"That bullhead from the football team owes me a band. He didn’t pay yesterday, so the price got raised." She smirked and you shook your head. The things people will do for a good grade goes beyond you.

"So lunch should be on you then?" You laughed as she turned to you with a straight face. "Hey you're the one with the deep pockets, big money."

"Yeah but you haven't figured out that problem yet. Bet still stands genius." You gave a frown as she turned to leave.

"Yeah yeah! I'll bring dinner though." She called out as she closed the door behind her. You shook your head as you continued trying to figure out the problem. You let an hour pass before you felt yourself nodding off, class work completely forgotten in the notebook on your desk. You heard a light knock causing you to stir out of your sleep, checking your phone for the time.

"Riri isn't here!" You shouted at who was probably one of her future customers. You moved to head to the fridge before another knock hit the door. You sighed in frustration as you dragged yourself to the door after slipping on some sweats. "I already told you if you're looking for Riri she's not-" You swung the door open and your jaw just about hit the floor. At the door stood your long distance girlfriend and princess of Wakanda herself. She wore a black tracksuit with the curls in her hair falling over her eyes. You went to start questioning her before she put a finger up to her lips, signaling you to stay quiet. She gently pushed you backwards to get into the room and scoop you up in her arms.

"What are you doing here?" You asked in a hushed squeal as she kissed you softly. You eagerly returned the kiss after throwing your arms over her shoulders. Her hands held you close before you pulled away with wide eyes.

"I came to see you. For the first time I grew bored in my lab so I decided to fly out to surprise you.” she told you and you felt like a kid in a candy store. It's not often she has time to call let alone visit.

"I get that. But who brought you? How did you get here? Okoye isn't outside, is she? Someone might think she's up to something." You began to panic before she grabbed your face.

"No one is outside. I came on my own." She grinned as you grabbed her arms to pull her into your room.

"But what did your mother say about it?" You asked and she shrugged

"She can't speak on what she doesn't know." You covered your mouth to contain your laughter.

"You are a sneaky little shit." You said to her and she hugged you again, burying her face in your neck. She missed you. You too miss these moments, every time you have to part from her for a while. But her being here, with you in her arms, soaking in her warmth. You wouldn't trade it for the world. You didn't even hear the door open until the sound of a bag dropping caught your attention. You turned to see Riri with the widest her eyes have ever been.

"Riri, calm down. I can explain." You told her as her hands flew to her head.

"Calm down? You wanna tell me why my best friend is all up on the princess of Wakanda?!" She said in disbelief and you went to scratch your neck.

"Riri, this is Shuri. My girlfriend. Baby this is my best friend Riri." You introduced the two as Riri tried to keep her composure.

"So this is Riri?" Shuri asked with an amused grin as your roommate struggled to hold it together.

"You know about me? Does she know about me? How come I didn't know about her? Y/N-"

"Okay relax. I didn't tell you because Wakanda had their own problems and I didn't want to involve you." You spoke before she could muster out another question.

"Y/N is right. My homeland did have its own affairs to deal with. I asked her to keep it on the low. But I am glad to finally meet the person she talks so much about." You grabbed her arm causing her to look down at you.

"How long do you think you have?" As soon as the question left your mouth a voice spoke out from her kimoyo beads. Riri looked around the room before Shuri held up her wrist.

"Shuri?" A voice sang and you looked up at the princess with a worried glance.

"Mother." She replied softly.

"I sent Okoye to fetch you only for her to come back and tell me, you are not here. Is there a reason you aren't at the palace right now?" The queen asked and Shuri gave a nervous laugh.

"I just stepped away from the palace for a couple minutes. Needed to grab some things." She lied trying to cover her tracks.

"Did you forget I can track location daughter." The queen said with a firm tone that even you couldn't lie to her.

"Hi Queen Ramonda." You mumbled a greeting and the queen gave a soft laugh.

"Hello sweet Y/N. Please make sure my daughter returns at an appropriate time." She said to you and you nodded even though she couldn't see me.

"I'll return soon mother. Just wanted to come see her." Shuri said before kissing you temple.

"I understand child. Just remember to tell me next time." The queen mused, causing her daughter to roll her eyes. You now see where Shuri got her habit of checking locations from.

"Understood. Now I gotta go."

The conversation ended and you grabbed your purse and Shuri's hand as you dashed to the door.

"I'll be back later!" You called out to Riri who was still stunned by the entire ordeal.

"But what about the class work?" She motioned to your desk still covered in notebook paper.

"Finish it for me. Please? I'll owe you big time!" You shouted going out the door before she could respond. She stared at the door you just locked and shook her head.

"Ain't that some shit."

#shuri x you #shuri x reader #black panther shuri #black panther imagines #poc reader #black panther #black panther reader insert #black panther request

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00-hawkboi-00 · 6 months

Text

Make a Mercy Out of Me

Part Four

Pairing; König x male!reader (slow burn)

Word Count; 11.7k (I almost died editing this)

Warnings; dehumanization (of reader), drowning (nightmare?), slight panic, mentions of past torture (of reader), implied human trafficking (of reader)

A/n; Was going to have both chapters out on Halloween buuuuut this one ended up far longer than originally anticipated.

--- "trojan horse" ---

Lights out was over several hours ago. And yet here König was. Watching. Straining his ears to catch every small hitch in your breath, every twitch of your exposed fingers.

Making sure you didn't suddenly die off, really.

That would be inconvenient.

Going through all this trouble catching you just to have you die under his supervision? That would be all of the team's–all of his–time washed down the drain. And he couldn't have that, now could he?

Which is why he had dealt with your antics this morning. You had refused to eat, refused to even drink in front of him. He had assumed it to be the mask–a gross, filthy thing you still haven't removed–that kept you from putting valuable nutrients in your body. König could understand that, he wasn't the most enthusiastic about barring his deformities to strangers either.

Would it aid in the healing of your various wounds right now and probably lessen the time he had to spend categorizing every out-of-place movement you made? An obvious yes. But he wasn't your friend here, he wasn't in charge of making sure you were 'comfortable'. König was here to make sure you didn't kill anyone, yourself, or escape.

Besides–though probably sped up with how much of a beating your body had sustained–you could most likely go for another day or two without it before starvation kicked in. So he dropped the subject and let you sleep some more.

He was regretting that decision now. Somewhere after 1400, you had succumbed to one of the worst fevers he'd seen in his time. Panting like a dog and sweating buckets despite the cool air of the compound. Eyes glazed over and unfocused, you didn't even respond to your name. Not unless he shouted it in your face and snapped his fingers.

Even that was shoddy at best.

It was now somewhere between 0000 and 0100. König had decided to wait until morning to see if your fever lessened, or at the very least improved. Sure, you were a subject of interest, high interest even, but he wasn't about to rouse Colonel Vargas's medical staff for something that ended up not being an emergency.

His hesitation definitely had nothing to do with how terrified you'd looked yesterday when he had first mentioned it.

The sun had risen and you hadn't. Fever broken? Not yet. Though you were.. semi-conscious. You had been switching between mumbling words under your breath that he didn't understand–and was pretty sure was a language he didn't know–to looking like fresh roadkill; cold, limp, and staring blankly at the ceiling.

He thought you had died a handful of times. You'd even halted breathing once or twice. Then, like magic, as soon as he'd go to page Price about your near comatose state, you'd go back to drawing in deep, exaggerated breaths–if a little wheezy on the exhale.

König had decided to give you until noon before he finally called someone in to check on you.

It would be pointless, he reminds himself, if he brought someone in just for you to snap out of it when they arrived.

So he took to treating your wounds every other hour. The source of your fever, he determined, was likely infection. Surprised? Not at all. König had gotten a front-row seat to how downright filthy your injuries were when he stitched them up.

Each fresh bandage would come away just as soiled as the last when he switched them out. Coated in specks of blood here and there, yes, but an overwhelming majority was yellowish-green goo. After he'd gotten that to be somewhat manageable, König had started to apply an antiseptic over the sloppy sutures after each cleaning.

So far, under his own wishes, no one else had come into the room. He's pretty sure at some point one of the team had come by with breakfast.

König hadn't opened the door.

He, himself, wouldn't be too fond of enemies visiting him while he was so vulnerable, so why should he subject you to that? Because you are the enemy here. Because your comfort shouldn't matter.

König had only left the room a handful of times since they brought you in. Mostly to fetch a quick snack or just stretch his limbs–to get away from the stagnant, suffocating air of the room. It was, technically, his job at the moment, and wasn't at all surprising no one had come to drag him away. Which meant less time spent around crowds of soldiers he was unfamiliar with, so he wasn't complaining.

It's not until just before dusk, on the third day, that your fever finally breaks. König notes how you've stopped shivering so excessively, how the bandages he just disposed of were considerably less full of gunk. Still an angry reddish color, still a little swollen, but much less than it had been.

Another hour passes before you regain consciousness. Your words are still a bit slurred and there's a certain haze of confusion consuming your eyes, but it's much better than you've looked since they found you.

He doesn't rush to your side, doesn't make any move to assist you in figuring out where you are, or help you orientate yourself. No. He sits in the chair he's been stuck in for a little over three days and waits for you to notice him.

He doesn't coddle you when panic flashes through your irises or try to explain who he is. He doesn't even speak.

König simply stands up and makes his way to the small, en-suite bathroom and fills up the same paper cup he's offered you multiple times over. By the time he is at your side and offering the cup, he picks up on the recognition now replacing that fear.

And a hint of apprehension, but that's not his problem.

"Drink." When you give that firm shake of your head once again, he's not exactly overflowing with shock. Not even a little miffed. König just urges the flimsy cup closer and repeats himself, though a little more firm this time, "drink."

You–finally, for fuck's sake–take the cup, shaky hands and all. Then proceed to do that weird squint of your eyes at him that he's come to associate as something you do before spouting your typical bullshit. It had happened when he'd interrogated you. Then again when you pulled that little stunt in front of Price–König had still yet to deal with all of that.

Some would call it avoidance, König preferred to call it self-preservation.

And that is why this time König cuts you off before you even open your mouth.

"I'm not taking no for an answer, Maus. Drink." Too friendly. "You're of no use to me if you are delirious from dehydration. Drink."

This would all be much easier to deal with if you would just stop looking at him like that.

"What. What is it?" König grits out, letting the irritation that's been welling up inside him since day one finally seep into his tone. He hasn't even gotten more than maybe a few hours of sleep because of you! He's tired, and, yes, maybe he's a little more on edge than usual. But if you could just- stop looking at him like that.

"My bag." It takes König a little longer than he'd like to admit to realize you were even speaking. A little more to decipher what you just said. It sounded more like 'ma bach' to him.

"And? What about it?" König vaguely remembers you dropping an overstuffed duffle when he'd restrained you in that rundown complex.

"Need it." Again, it sounded more like 'ned ehh' to his ears.

"For what?" What could you possibly do with that? The team had not left it behind. Had brought it with them in case there was some decent evidence in there. Something to incriminate you with so they could keep you longer. There wasn't. "To drink?"

A nod. Alright. That's progress. He can do that.

"Wait here." Ha.

It's funny.

Because you can't leave.

König thinks he's hilarious.

It takes very little convincing on König's part to get Soap to hand it over to him. After all, they had not found anything to convict you with inside the bag. All that was required was the removal of many, many sharp objects, both hidden and not–seriously, how did that even fit there?–, before Price gave the okay and Soap handed it over.

Not before their charming Scotsman made a snide comment of, "what, he think ye poisoned it or somethin'?" But that was irrelevant.

With nothing more than a shrug, König was on his way back to you.

You sit up when the door opens then clicks shut again, lightly panting behind your mask. The little cup of water had been abandoned on the floor beside the cot. Useless to you at the moment.

You don't look up at the other man until the heavy bag is placed at the foot of the bed and, subsequently, your legs. You send him a brief glare before reaching down to pull the duffle into your lap.

While you rummage around through the mess they had made of your bag–praying to a god you don't believe in that they didn't take it out, that would be extremely inconvenient right now–König retrieves the water.

"You know," he says at the same time that white paper cup enters your peripheral. "Would be a lot easier if you just took that off. It's filthy."

You look up with your eyes only, narrowing them as your fingers finally wrap around the cool piece of metal you'd been searching for–not even close to the little pocket you'd left it in.

You don't take your eyes off of him as you pull it out–a thin, reusable straw–other hand reaching up to take the cup. Placing the metal straw inside, adjusting the height of it so it doesn't fit inside too awkwardly.

You would take the damn thing off if you could.

One hand holding the cup, the other deftly keeps the straw in place as you bring it to your face. Slipping it under the small slit in your mask, just below your mouth.

There was only one problem.

You can't.

The cloth was filthy; coated in mud and plant matter, bodily fluids and the sort. You'd give anything to have it removed.

Removed.

Because you couldn't simply take the damn thing off. Couldn't replace the ratty old thing. Not unless you paid a visit to your home base, and you'd rather fucking die than do anything of the sort.

You could tell him. König would probably remove it, or have someone else take it off for you. Not because he was interested in your comfort, no, but because it would be beneficial to his cause.

Something inside you, some mental blockade, keeps you from uttering those words. Keeps that freeing phrase lodged in your throat.

Besides, it wasn't always this dirty. You cleaned it.. sometimes. Whenever you could. It was awkward and involved a lot of water being sprayed at your face–and after nearly waterboarding yourself the last time, you weren't too eager to do it again.

"Thanks." You mumble when you finish off the small cup. You mean it; the cool water was refreshing after being deprived of it for so long. Soothing your sore throat and filling your empty stomach.

"More?" König asks, reaching out a gloved hand–bloodied, worn glove. Your blood.

All you can do is nod and pass it back to him; you are parched. It would take a lot more than a tiny cup to make up for days without proper hydration.

You end up having König refill the cup a few more times before you finally just place it on the ground again. Then you fold up the straw into a smaller stick, tuck it into your pocket, and lean back against the wall.

You're hit with a wave of exhaustion as you do so, muscles still sore and injuries aching. Distantly so, your shoulder burning, thigh throbbing, but infinitely better. You made sure to make a conscious effort to keep your previously relocated shoulder in place; still feeling a dull pain where the bones interlocked.

Being pretty experienced in the realm of having your body manipulated and pushed to its limits, you knew keeping the joint as immobile as possible was your best bet for a speedy recovery.

You just wanted to get some fucking sleep.

Having been surviving off an hour or two of sleep every other day, your body was fully prepared to take advantage of the lack of action. To finally catch up on all the rest you'd been missing out on.

Sleep deprivation was nothing new to you, you were built and molded to withstand far worse–you just didn't want to. Not if you could finally take a moment to yourself; even if that meant spending it in enemy territory.

König would probably let you sleep; more about keeping you in a decent enough shape. A part of you resisted the idea still–even if another insisted you should take advantage of healing as much as you could before torture was inevitably introduced. Your mind is just barely present enough to keep you from letting your guard down anymore than you already had.

Vaguely, you recall the other man hovering over you once in a while while you were delirious from the fever. The memories drift in and out of your half-conscious mind, just barely out of reach, but you get the impression König was tending to your wounds as you slept. Keeping you alive and in just barely good enough shape for whatever he and his crew of misfits wanted from you.

Hell, you couldn't care about that right now. Couldn't muster any part of you to give a single fuck about what they wanted you for; when you'd offered yourself up it had been out of anger. Desperation. Wanting to get some petty revenge on your handler. Now you were.. not necessarily regretting it, but you weren't fond of it anymore either.

"Should get some sleep." König's voice breaks your quickly spiraling thoughts. Looking up, you notice the man is still standing. If you didn't know any better, you'd almost said the behemoth of a man appeared nervous. Standing there, hovering by the door, bright blue eyes locked on you, bloody, gloved fingers twitching now and again.

You only give a soft hum of acknowledgment, keeping your own gaze pinned on his. You notice how the literal giant mass of muscle and cloth shifts his weight now and again. Anxious, you'd say, awkward.

"It's late, and you need to heal." König continues when you don't say anything. You'd find it funny–seeing the intimidating pillar of a man acting so skittish–if you weren't so fucking tired. "I'll leave you to it then."

And with that, König leaves. You had half a mind to call out to him, to ask him to stay. That, for once in your life, you didn't really want to be alone.

That this room too closely resembled the one that haunted you still, even after all these years. Too cold, too dull, too sterile.

But that would ruin whatever picture of you he held in his mind. Would look too much like cowardice. Because you should be able to handle it, you shouldn't be so damn terrified when confined within four walls. Should be better than this.

So you don't raise your voice, don't ask him to stay. Can't force the vibration into your vocal cords, can't help but feel that doing so would make you look weak. Instead, you watch as König turns on his heel and opens the door, shutting and locking it firmly behind him with a dull click.

At least König had left the light on. You're almost certain you would've spiraled if he hadn't.

Silence ate at you when alone. Only indoors, though. When you were outside and could smell the fresh air through your mask, the wind against your exposed skin, and hear the crunch of leaves and foliage under your boots; that was a whole other story.

Tolerable. Comforting, even. Not this. Never this.

It is better, when you take a look at the bigger picture. Better than that smaller, dark room. Pitch black, unable to even see your own hands in front of you. Can reach out an arm but only extend it halfway on either side before your fingers brush cold metal.

Better than the water.

Frigid liquid starts in a slow trickle from the four corners of the box–The Box–and gradually fills it up. Until you're drowning. Until you're forced to take that final breath, bitter, freezing water–was it even water??–leaking into your mouth. Staining your tongue; having to choose between risking spitting it out, taking the chance of more replacing what is dispelled, or holding it in your mouth until you're free again. But not swallow, never swallow.

You can hear her. Hear all of them. Talking, whispering, laughing. Not the other Predators, not them, not the ones like you.

Her. You've never seen her. It's her and a few of her associates, then your handler. Your handler doesn't laugh. She's silent. But you know she's watching, know she's counting down each second until your release.

Your chest is seizing, trying desperately to force you to take a breath, to draw in air. You have to ignore it, ignore the impulse, even as your chest screams, your lungs burn, as your brain begins to grow fuzzy from lack of oxygen.

You can hear every vile word spoken, every taunt and joke made at your expense. The implants permanently placed into your skull allowing you to hear every rustle of clothing, every dehumanizing spat. No matter how badly you'd like to tune it all out.

They know you can hear them. Can hear the whisper of her adding more time, the surprise that you haven't fainted yet, the mutterings calling you it, the scribbling of pen on paper.

They know you can hear. And that's exactly why they do it. Why they call you it, a thing, nothing more than a tool. An object. A product made to be contracted, be rented out to greedy generals, but not a person. Never a person.

Only a thing.

Made to be used. To be trained. To take orders without question. Like a dog–like a mutt.

You're failing. You can feel it. The lack of oxygen to your brain is starting to affect you, exhaustion weighing heavily on your submerged body. Your limbs have long since lost feeling, numb where they lay somewhere in The Box.

You can't hear them anymore. Only your own hazy mind, your own pounding heart. You're failing, falling, giving out.. can't last,

Slow heartbeat, dull, harsh thuds in your ribcage,

Numb, tingling limbs,

Soaked body, soaked mind, soaked and heavy clothes,

Weighing you down,

down,

down.

You wake with a start, sucking in a sharp lungful of air, eyelids snapping open. Adjusting to a bright, bright room.

You're not in The Box. You're here. Where exactly here is, you have no idea.

You don't even remember falling asleep.

The first thing König does when he leaves you is take a shower. He's absolutely filthy. Or at least that's how he feels after not having the chance to wash away the sweat and blood from the day of your capture. For almost a week.

He feels gross and sticky in his own body, and König finds himself even more relieved than usual that he hadn't had to interact with many people. Didn't quite feel like burning their sense of smell out for good.

Sure, he was a soldier. Sure, there were times when he had to go a few days without a proper shower. That didn't make it any better.

His mother had taught him good hygiene, amongst other important things, and he'd be damned if he didn't listen to her. Even from across the globe.

The water–though lukewarm and lacking pressure–feels good on his unwashed skin. König had to duck down a bit to clean his shaggy, russet hair and upper torso, but that wasn't anything new. Majority if not all showers and other everyday things were often too small for him.

With the exception of the one in his mother's home. The two of them had broken down and reconstructed his small, personal bathroom in ninth year, when he hit a sudden growth spurt and it was clear he wasn't stopping anytime soon.

König had always been a tall, lanky child. This fact had been the source of his insecurity since he started school–the other kids latching onto this fact and using it against him. He stood out, and that, coupled with his chronic social anxiety, only made him an easy target.

He had been ashamed of his height then–often hunching in on himself in a vain attempt to seem smaller than he was–, but that was not the case now. König's height was an advantage in his line of work, something he had grown to be proud of over the years. Especially now that he put so much time and effort into turning his body into the perfect fighting machine through bulky muscle and healthy fat.

König still didn't particularly enjoy standing out, but it was better when what was once an insecurity for him was met with a healthy dose of fear and awe.

Thankfully, no one was there but him. The majority of the other people on the base are most likely having dinner around this time.

So he secures a towel around his waist and, feeling thoroughly refreshed and almost like a new man after his shower, he steps out of the tiny, curtained-off room and into the main part of the communal locker room.

Having no one else around gave König the opportunity to pull out a clean, sharp knife and delicately carve away the scruffy stubble along his jaw and upper lip–the hairs always poked through the layers of fabric on his face and it bothered him.

König's work was quick and efficient, much like most of the things he did. Running the smooth blade over and between the rises and dips of his skin. Scar tissue didn't grow hair, obviously, but the annoying spaces in between marred flesh did, so that's what König was shaving off.

Seeing his own face didn't bother him, despite what most would probably think. König sometimes thought the scars were cool; it really added to his scare factor. Then again, so did the hood he wore.

He didn't wear the fabric draped over his face because he was insecure or ashamed of his scarring–König actually considered himself a pretty average-looking man, minus the scars. It was more for anonymity and he really, really didn't feel like dealing with all the stares it would garner everywhere he went. It also helped König with his social anxiety to have that thin cloth separating him from everyone else. And he'd be damned if he was going to let his scars become the new target instead of his height.

It's still too early to return to you or go to bed himself when König finishes. He ends up throwing on the fresh clothes he'd brought with him, tugging on a more everyday mask in place of the hood, and pulling his still-damp hair into a loose low ponytail. Keeping the wild, wavy strands out of his face–the ends of it just barely brushing his shoulders.

Then König gathers up his filthy clothes and gear and makes his way into the hall. This facility isn't exactly new to him, had been here a few times with the rest of the team, but that didn't make it any less confusing to be in. Still a bit foreign to him.

Even so, he manages to find his way back to the room he'd left you in, drop off his clothes–and hide his gear somewhere he knew you couldn't reach–, then to where his teammates sat chatting in the common room.

Ghost sat on one side of the room, the furthest end of the couch, with Soap squeezed in right next to him. The two communicating in low rumbles and small chuckles. Rudy sat on the other end of that same couch; talking in soft mutterings to the man sitting in the chair to his left.

Gaz was, surprisingly, not currently present, but Price was. Sitting tense and deep in thought in one corner of the sofa opposite the other, scrolling through something on his phone.

Shit. Price. He doubted the captain would bring up that little stunt you pulled a few days ago in front of Alejandro and Rudy, but König couldn't be too certain.

He's about to back out of the room when Soap calls out his name–damn him. Not really, but König was hoping to leave undetected. A little difficult for a man of his size, but still.

"König! There ye are, haven't seen ye in ages."

König freezes in his tracks, sending the Scot a small, professional smile from behind his mask.

"You saw me this afternoon, Soap."

"Righ', righ'." Soap waves off, giving König a more playful grin than the taller man had put on. "S' wha' the lad need with the damn thin' anyhow? He pull out somethin' 'tae test it or..?"

König, resigning himself to his fate, walks over to take a seat on the same couch as Price. On the furthest end from their captain.

"A straw."

This gets Ghost's attention. "'M guessin' he didn't take the mask off for ya then?"

"Didn't expect him to." Price looks up from his phone then, all three of the other men giving him a deadpan stare.

"Do not look at me like that." König grumbles, attention tuning in to the approaching footsteps.

"Don't look at who like what?" Gaz says as he enters the room, several random snacks in hand, giving them all a curious look. When his gaze lands on König, Gaz gives a small, half-grin and chucks one of the snacks at him. "What are you guys on about?"

König fumbles a bit, but catches what looks to be some type of protein bar? He gives Gaz an appreciative nod and replies,

"Nothing important."

At the same time, Soap says,

"König's wee fixation."

König sends Soap a glare, tearing open the package. Gaz shrugs, walking over to seat himself between König and Price. Nonchalant, as if none of this is new to him. He throws a few snacks at the other men as well as he sits.

"It is not a fixation." König grumbles, sounding more like a petulant child than the grown-ass man he is. He spares a glance towards Rudy, who seems amused by the whole thing, then Alejandro, who is now tapping away on his phone. Neither of them seem to be paying any special attention to him specifically, so König decides to tug the mask down.

He's hungry, dammit, and, out of all people, this little group right here were the last ones König would expect to make jabs at his scars.

"Oh, it's not?" Price. The man looks a little amused. König is not. "Then what would ya call him, hm?"

"A subject of interest." The first bite of the protein bar unlocks a ravenous hunger in König that the man hadn't been anticipating. Made sense, really, considering he hadn't been taking the greatest care of himself while watching over you these past few days–had a habit of forgetting when he got involved in something. Food included.

As König had expected, no one even bats an eye at his revealed face, and König feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Much like Ghost, the others had all seen him before–Price especially, the man had his file after all–and still didn't look at König differently. Which had also been a great relief, knowing he didn't have to hide his disfigured skin from what had become his, fairly close, teammates.

"Riiight." Soap drawls, opening the small bag Gaz had thrown at him. "Tha's what we're callin' this then?"

"There is no this, Soap." König says after he swallows his last bite, crumbling up the wrapper and shoving it into his pocket to throw out later. He was still practically starving, but he figured he could find something else later. He pulls the mask back up.

"He is needed to further our investigation."

"An' tha's why ye stayed with 'im fur several days?"

"Without once leavin', I might add." Ghost tacks on, a slight crinkling in the corners of his eyes that tells König the man also finds his suffering humorous.

It's not entirely true. König had left. Once and a while when you seemed mostly stable. Not that the others would know this considering he never crossed paths with them.

"Had to make sure he didn't die."

"Speaking of the him in question," Alejandro–the fucking saint that he is–interrupts, flicking his eyes around the room and pocketing his phone. "Just who exactly did you guys bring onto my base?"

"Yeah," Rudy tacks on. "Into our country, no less."

König, a little more than surprised Price hadn't informed the two men who were currently housing them and their prisoner, sends Price a look that says just as much.

"I was going to have this discussion a lot sooner," Price rumbles, "but I was waiting for you to join us, König."

König frowns at this, a slight pull on his eyebrows as he observes his Captain.

"Waiting for me?"

"Ye did kinda ignore us fur the past few days."

"Too occupied with his, mm, subject of interest, 't join us." Ghost adds, still not out of his playful mood, it seemed.

Gaz sends König a brief, amused glance before turning away again.

König ignores the two bastards on the other side of the room and keeps his own gaze on Price instead.

"Why did you need me, Captain?" König really was a little confused.. he had only been with the bunch for almost a year. During the tail end of the team's hunt for literal missiles and so on. He wasn't exactly a.. to put it bluntly, a vital part of the team.

"You shared a few words with him before we came here." Oh no. This now felt more like an intervention than anything. "I need to know what those were."

Alejandro looks between the two with a puzzled expression of his own. "Were you not with them, Captain?"

"I was," Price doesn't take his eyes off König. König suddenly finds a spot on the floor very interesting. "They weren't speakin' in a language I could understand."

This only confuses the two men further, both of whom share a quick glance. A silent conversation between them. Then König feels both of their eyes on him.

His skin crawls, he feels exposed, he shouldn't have come out here, he should've worn the hood.

König's words suddenly feel stuck in his throat, and he clears it subtly.

"It wasn't relevant to the mission, sir." He mumbles, still refusing to tear his gaze away and look over at his captain.

"So you say." Price replies easily. "And yet you still won't tell me."

"He.." König hesitates, starting up a nervous bounce of his knee. "He asked me if I had considered his- his.. offer."

"His offer?" Price asks at the same time Gaz says, "Did you?"

"He is here, isn't he?"

"Is there anything you all know about the stranger you've brought into my home?" Alejandro says, drawing the conversation back onto its track.

There's a small, tense pause before anyone speaks up.

"We, uh.. we know he was abandoned..?" Gaz says, turning to Price. "..right?"

"As far as we know, yes."

König takes that moment to glance up, catching the slight widening of Rudy's eyes.

"Is that all you know?"

Another silence.

"I'd ask if he's dangerous, but I feel that much is obvious." Alejandro deadpans, sighing before continuing, "How long have you been on his tail? Do you have a file?"

"Yes."

"..is there much in it?"

"..no."

Another sigh, Rudy this time, before the same man asks,

"What exactly did you all expect to gain by keeping him?"

Soap lands a very pointed stare on König.

"Don't you dare, Soap." König mutters quickly. "It is not a.. fixation, it's a-"

"A subject of interest, right." Ghost huffs, mood dimmed a little more back to his usual self to König's great relief.

"He said he could help-"

"Yes, an' help with what exactly-"

"-d'ye think he'd-"

"-pretty sure he'd be able to if we asked him-"

"Ay!" Rudy barks out, snapping the other men's focus towards him. "Does this guy even have a name?"

Oh. Right.

"Mouse." They all say in unison, sans Price, before returning to their conversation.

"Mouse?" Alejandro muses. Then he turns and mutters a few quick words to Rudy in Spanish, the other man snickering in turn.

König couldn't blame him, they'd all been pretty amused by it when they first heard it, too. Made only more entertaining once one noticed how small you were. Not just when compared to König, but all of them.

König was pretty certain he'd seen literal children much taller than you.

"Strange name and what-ifs aside," Price sighs, then looks over at König. "Is he stable?"

"Yes."

"Alive, stable, or able to do a quick run with us, stable?"

".. I would give him a few days more," König answers, taking a second to think it over first. "Then he should be able to walk straight."

Pride nods. A tad confused, König asks,

"Did we get a hit, sir, is that what this is about?"

"We do have.. something."

"And?" Ghost this time, their tiny conversation having drawn the attention of all the other men in the room.

"And." Price emphasizes. "Laswell and her fiends of informants have given us an approximate 't the bomber's possible location."

"Here?" Alejandro says at the same time Soap says, "where?"

"It is nearby..ish," Price says. "A border city. I don't have any of the specifics right now, but we will know more within the week."

He then gives König a pointed look, "A few days from now. That should be plenty 'a time for Mouse to recover, yes?"

"Ja," König agrees, not knowing if it was true but, well, they just needed you to not pass out every other minute and be able to walk on your own. "Can I ask what we need him for?"

"You said it yourself he wanted to help." There were two types of Price smiles; warm and welcoming or deceivingly threatening. This time was one of the latter. "I say we bring him along as a sort of.. test. See if his story holds up under pressure."

"Not to overstep, Captain, but couldn't you use.. other tactics to get the truth from him?" Alejandro asks. "If you want, I'm sure I could get some of my men to-"

"No." König cuts in before Price can respond, the former giving the Colonel what could only be described as a death stare.

"Why not? Certainly, it would help speed things along-"

"I appreciate the offer, Colonel, but there is a sort of.." Price narrows his gaze at König, silently conveying a clear command for the other man to shut his mouth. König huffs, looking away. "An unspoken agreement against using the more traditional methods of gathering information."

"Cannae be harmin' König's wee fixation, now ken we?" Soap's light jab dissolves the slight tension that had been building in the room.

And, for once, König finds himself grateful for the tease. Though he still gives a bemoaned,

"It is not a fixation!"

You're tense, König can tell. He also gets the feel it has more to do with something other than the fact you were.. well, not in a cell. But a confined room. Definitely not the same thing.

König visited you less often now that you weren't at risk of bleeding out or dying of infection in your sleep. The man had assumed you'd be, maybe not ecstatic, but relieved that he wasn't around as often. It appeared that his absence had caused the opposite effect.

You ate.. some, and when he wasn't around. Drank, too, whenever you felt like it. Your injuries were healing spectacularly as well; no longer open, leaking wounds, but instead slightly irritated, closed lines. Would definitely scar, but König knew that was probably the least of your worries.

It frustrated him to no end that he couldn't figure out what was wrong with you–it wasn't physical, that much was obvious. You were a puzzle he couldn't decipher, and that left an unpleasant taste in König's mouth.

He was about ready to burst after two days of dealing with your attitude–not at all playful like it usually was–and bitter mood. Mentally preparing himself to just ask you straight out–even though it wasn't at all guaranteed he'd get an answer–when it all came to a head on day three.

You are about ready to combust when the door clicks open; breathing quick, heavy gulps of air while you pace the length of the small room. Having pulled on your gloves–finding an extra pair in your bag–for the first time in over a week, you were now using the familiar feel of rough fabric to ground yourself. Rubbing it over the skin of your forearms in quick, aborted motions.

Why did she leave? She abandoned you. The full weight of your situation was just now hitting you– she abandoned you.

Were you really that much of a fucking problem? You tried, you really did, tried not to be too much of a drag on her–but you had a habit of racking up stacks of paperwork like they were trophies.

You had always been her most problematic subject; having the blood of one of your own squad mates on your hands didn't help either. But you tried, you tried so hard to make up for it–that's one of the main reasons you had gone on this years-long solo operation.

To take a bit of the weight, the workload that was simply you, off your handlers' shoulders.

When did you become too much? When had she decided she didn't want you anymore?

Was it the murder? The attempted escape–a foolish thing really, you'd never felt so stupid–, the snarky attitude? The way you pushed and pushed and pushed and never let up?

What were you even supposed to do now? You'd never been without that voice in your ear, telling you what to do and when to do it–you didn't know what to do with yourself without it.

"Maus?" Shit. Right. You'd forgotten König was there.

"What." You grit, not even bothering to look up as you continue to pace. Back and forth, back and forth- Repetition, now that was something you knew.

"Sit down. All this pacing is.. stressing me out."

You pause, feet anchoring to the ground as you lock onto the other man.

"Oh?" You huff, feeling the panic begin to morph into the more familiar, welcomed burn of anger. "You are stressed?"

"Ja," he deadpans, giving you that familiar blank stare you'd come to associate with the other man. Irritation, arrogance, boredom– or all three. "I am. Because of you."

"Well my sincerest apologies for the inconvenience." You say, plastering on a fake smile beneath your mask; sarcasm oozing through every word. "But you're not the one who got fucking abandoned, are you? Zasraný bastard!" (Fucking bastard!)

You spat the last part, seething as you turn the rest of your body to face König head on. Slowly, you stalk closer until you're within touching distance. So close you have to nearly snap your neck in half to look up at the giant.

"You do not understand, do you? You arrogant fuck." Your tone is considerably low considering the harsh words spilling from your mouth. All the emotions that had been building up inside you since that day everything went to shit finally breaking free. Manifesting as misdirected anger–or maybe justifiable, according to you. "You and your rag-tag group of fuckin' misfits do not know the first thing of me. Know only what you are told."

This is probably the most you've spoken since your capture. When you were loopy from blood loss.

"So do not come in here, come to me and tell me that I am the problem. That it is me causing the stress." You're too wound up to care about reading whatever fucking emotions flashes through König's eyes. Too pissed off to worry about deciphering his unnecessarily complicated feelings. "You are not the one who was left. Left by the person who has been with you for your entire life. I am not weak, I am not your pet, so do not talk to me like I am- kurva, a damn idiot." (Fuck.)

"Maus."

"What."

His tone is a lot calmer than you had been expecting. You have half a mind to curse him out about not listening to a damn word you have to say–then you remember who you're talking to and quickly bite your tongue.

In lieu of saying anything, König simply reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. A piece of paper. Then he holds it out to you, you recognize the worn parchment and stains.

Oh.

The paper.

You don't take it, flicking your eyes between the folded note and the other's gaze. Anger quickly melts away into confusion.

"Why are you giving me this?"

"Scheiß. Und er nennt mich den Idioten." König mutters under his breath. The words spoken too fast for you to pick up on much more than the familiar curse.

"Take it." König brings the paper closer, pressing it to your chest and giving a light shove. "And read it again."

With an annoyed huff and a glare, you take a step back, distancing yourself, and snatch the folded note from his hand.

Carefully–not wanting to accidentally tear the poor thing that had already lost the majority of its structural integrity–you unfold it.

Holding the fragile thing between gloved, delicate fingers, you squint. Trying to see past the mud stains and water marks. After more than a little staring, you finally catch the vague, washed-out red.

At first, you assume it's blood–your blood, more specifically. Then, upon closer inspection, you realize that the color is just slightly off. Even watered-down blood would retain some of its darker undertones–would turn a brownish color instead of pink.

The words are too blurred to make sense of- but you know that red. None of that hot, burning anger flows through you now. Molten lava converting into frigid, paralyzing recognition.

König seems to take your silence as a good thing and murmurs a triumphant, "I will go inform Captain Price that you are ready, see you later, Maus."

And just like that, König leaves you with another little fact that shatters your entire worldview.

Only it's not the clue he probably thinks it is.

An hour. That is how long you are given before one of the only two men whose name you didn't know comes to collect you–short hair, dark brown skin.

You are given a set of less dirty clothes to slip into–not a shower though, irritatingly enough–then you're being corralled down multiple twists and turns until you are forced into a meeting room of some sort.

There are several men and women you don't recognize seated around and standing near a long, rectangular table. The man who had brought you here urges you into a seat near the center of a row of chairs, Ghost–you had heard the name in passing when König was rambling to your semi-conscious body–and the other man whose name you did not know stood directly behind you.

The man who'd brought you here sits on your right.

All eyes are on you, you can feel it, burning holes into your mask. You chose to ignore them, keeping your gaze locked firmly on the metal table in front of you. Analyzing and taking note of every flaw and imperfection; man-made and not. Natural wear from years of use and manufacturer error.

Much to your relief, it's not too long before König and the captain enter the room; followed by two men who, surprise surprise, you also don't know.

One taller than the other, tanned skin and dark hair. One with scruffy facial hair and the other clean-shaven.

The shorter one instantly locks onto you, doing a quick once over of your hunched form before trapping your gaze with his own.

After what feels like an eternity, the man's eyes flick from you, over to König, then back to you. He frowns, then turns away.

Only a few seconds have passed and now Price and the two new ones are seated at the head of the table. König takes his place on your left.

Then the meeting begins.

A loyalty test. That's what the captain calls it. Gaze locked on yours when the others, apart from the little crew surrounding you, leave the meeting room.

And now you're here, unarmed and on the outskirts of a strange city you didn't even know existed until now.

The buildings are tall and tightly clustered together. Streets empty and windows–at least the ones not shattered–boarded or blackened out. Not a single ounce of movement or sound besides the rustle of wind now and then; blowing around loose papers and other trash.

The whole thing is eerie; every nerve in your body is alert, muscles tense and ready to spring into action at any notion of a threat.

Movement flashes in your peripheral somewhere to your immediate right and your hand instinctively reaches for the knife you keep stashed on your hip. Only your fingers curl around nothing, hand coming up empty when you bring it back up. You frown slightly at the lack of weapon in your gloved palm.

"Relax, Mouse." Gaz–you had finally been properly introduced to everyone, learning new names and confirming the ones you'd already known–, having been the source of the disturbance, says. "It's just me."

A small grunt of acknowledgment is your only response, returning your attention to the city looming ahead. Gaz's words weren't exactly comforting–and likely weren't meant to be. You were still their prisoner. They were your enemy just as much as whoever lay within the limits of this city was.

Which is why your nerves are not only shot to high hell for whatever the fuck was going on in the city, but also keenly analyzing and tracking every minuscule twitch of the team around you.

"Alright, boys," Price speaks up, coming into view on your right, standing beside Gaz. "Just like we discussed. Soap and Ghost on me, Gaz, you're with König. We'll split, clearing out each side, and regroup in the middle."

He completely disregards you. As if you were nothing but an accessory.

"Keep your eyes peeled for anythin' out of place. Intel says target should be in center building, sixth floor, but we shouldn't rule out possible interference. Living or not. Expect resistance, 'specially as we get further in."

Being a passive object in an operation was nothing new to you.

Ghost and Soap come to stand off to your left and König is an unmistakable presence behind you.

"RV 'round back, Nik'll be waiting for us. And, Gaz?"

"Yes, Cap'?"

Price's eyes flick to you, then behind you to König. The captain gives a small, pointed tilt of his head to Gaz.

"Keep an eye on the cargo, will ya?"

"'Course, sir. I'll make sure 't keep the," now it's Gaz's turn to spare a glance to the man looming behind you, a small pull at the corner of his mouth. Gone in an instant. "Subject of interest in clear view."

You bristle slightly at the choice words, it felt like you were missing out on something. An inside joke, perhaps? About you?

"Alright then, let's get on with it."

There's a chorus of 'yes sirs' around the group, sans you, and then a nod from Price. Ghost, Soap, and the captain split off to head off to the right, using the blanket of night as their only cover.

You turn away as soon as they're out of sight, redirecting your attention to the other two men now on either side of you.

"You heard the captain," Gaz says. "On with it."

You find yourself wishing you doned the original gear given to you when you became a Predator. The hooded cowl, full black outfit, and, of course, all your weapons and tools, would be extremely useful right now. Perfect for this little mission you lot were on; would let you blend into the dark of night much more seamlessly than the oversized clothing you'd been given.

There was that, and then there was the only piece of equipment you were handed. A throat mic; a snug piece of elastic that was always on, listening to every breath you took and every word you didn't say. You wouldn't be surprised if there were a tracker inside it as well.

A collar, ironic, really, but fitting. Adorning you just like the dog object you had always been. It was nothing new to you.

As a Hatchling, when on any operation, solo or not, you had been made to wear something similar. Only it had more of a.. bite to it. Sewn into the nape of your neck and would emit a stinging shock if whoever was overseeing your progress deemed you uncooperative.

This was an upgrade in comparison.

The clothes, however, were not, and you were glad you'd been able to keep the boots you'd been captured in.

König, the giant bastard–you had no clue why he had given you that note, was there a more malicious intent behind the act?–, was surprisingly good at keeping a low profile. Moving through the shadows with a kind of efficiency some second-year Hatchlings couldn't even manage–they'd have to do better if they wanted to survive.

Then again, the only lighting was the waning gibbous of a moon in the sky, an array of stars, and the dim, flickering street lights.

So, really, not that difficult of a feat.

It also wasn't hard to be silent with one's strides when only sand was underfoot, so you couldn't give props to König for that either.

Oh, now look at that, your little trio had finally made it to the first building. It's about damn time.

Slow, the two of them. Like sloths.

That was an insult to sloths around the globe.

The side door is jammed shut, not budging under either of the two's weight, and the idea of kicking it in was quickly abandoned; that wouldn't help at all with keeping a low profile.

Instead, you all have to resort to slowly yet efficiently peeling the piece of cloth nailed into the window frame to get in. Only after that are you three able to climb through the window and into the first building. König radios in your all's progress and is met with a similar update from Soap.

There is a quick sweep of the ground floor before Gaz splits off to investigate the room on the left, König dragging you to one that veers off to the right.

You three regroup at the base of the stairway and slowly work up to the next floor, Gaz leading and König keeping up the back, squishing you between the two.

It doesn't take long to clear out the first building–three floors total and a roof–, having been met with zero resistance, and soon enough your group is infiltrating building two.

The city is so closely knit, each alley only about a meter apart, that the transition time from one building to another may as well be non-existent. The amount of floors on each varies, but the layouts of each are pretty much the same. This makes for an even faster clearing time.

The three of you continue the same method of sweeping each floor and building–Gaz going solo on one side of a hallway, you and König working through the other–for the next few buildings and soon enough you all are halfway through.

"Bravo Six 't Gaz, how's it on your end?"

You're on a transition between another grouping of buildings, working on breaching the next. Gaz doesn't look away from where you and König are meticulously picking at another window covering when he radios back.

"Dead silent, sir."

There's a brief moment of static before the captain's voice cuts through again.

"Keep pushing, there's gotta be something here. Out."

"It has been very quiet." König speaks up as the last shreds of cloth are peeled back.

"Too quiet." Gaz agrees.

Then you three are climbing through the vacant window frame, rubber soles landing soundlessly against another tiled floor.

The immediate atmosphere is.. different from the other buildings you all had combed through. Stagnant and full of dust? Yes. Though it was the underlying energy of the structure that sent your nerves alight, a sense of foreboding crawling up your spine.

You can tell the others had registered the change in ambiance just as you had; a tension in König's broad shoulders and a deep frown settling on Gaz's lips.

The search of the first floor comes up empty; the small half bath, living space, kitchenette, and tiny closet not hiding anything spectacular within their walls.

The second floor yields the same results, this time with two minimalist bedrooms and another half bath.

Gaz sends König a look, having a silent conversation with the taller man, then the two of them turn to you. Gaz steps away from the stairway, eyes flicking over to you now.

"Maus," König says, voice low as he breaks the heavy silence. "How 'bout you take point?"

You know it's not a question but an order, a test to see if you'll follow any command given; even with the unsettling undercurrent of the atmosphere. If you'll take it in stride or cower behind like the mutt you are.

You briefly analyze the two with a look of your own before nodding and quietly stepping to the front.

It's not until you're halfway up the stairs that you hear the ticking. A faint, almost unintelligible sound you probably wouldn't be able to catch if not for your enhanced hearing.

You pause, holding up a hand for the others behind you.

"What's wrong?" Gaz whispers.

You bring that same hand down to tap your forefinger against your ear instead, still not taking your eyes off the entrance of the third floor that looms ahead. You hear König mutter something to Gaz, likely transmitting your actions to the other man.

A passive thought passes through you; that the others most likely didn't have the same enhancements you did. Couldn't see in the dark or hear the chitters of mice from a mile away like you could.

This, though, this wasn't mice.

You knew deep down, really, what it was. You still found yourself hoping you were wrong.

When you don't move Gaz speaks again.

"I don't hear anything." Well I do, you think bitterly.

Still, you push yourself to move again, forcing each foot in front of the other as you climb up the remaining half of the steps.

You don't even have to look in the other rooms to see it.

"Scheiß." König breathes out from behind you.

The two now standing beside you could probably only see the vague outline of it, the flashing of red bulbs on top, but you.. you can see the whole thing.

You don't follow Gaz as the man steps forward, bringing his flashlight over the literal ticking time bomb. A mess of wires and tubes, crisscrossing over the faded shades of grey of what is clearly some type of explosive.

Many explosives, wrapped up tightly together into one mega bomb by duct tape and wires.

"Told you I heard something." You grumble.

"Yeah, but how-" Gaz shakes his head, sighing. "Nevermind."

Then Gaz brings his hand up to the radio strapped to his vest, holding down the small button.

"Captain," he says, voice stiff. "We have a problem."

There's a brief opening and closing of the other line, a short wave of static, and Gaz takes this as a sign to keep going.

"Explosives. Sixth building, third floor."

It only takes a few seconds before a response comes through. "Say again?"

"They've got fuckin' bombs, sir."

There's another pause, brief chatter, then Soap speaks over the radio waves next.

"Seems we've both got tha' problem."

Your own feet stay rooted to the ground as the two others investigate the bomb, trading clipped words with the other half of their team. Trying to figure out how to defuse it–if it can even be defused. Soap says it's possible, but there's an edge to his tone and you can hear exactly as to why.

The ticking, the underlying buzz of energy snaking through the wires, is steadily speeding up.

You don't have time.

In a split second, you make a decision, turning on your heel and charging out of the room. Down to the bottom floor, through the side door, and ramming into the next building. It doesn't matter if you make noise now, whoever set these explosives up obviously knew someone was coming.

Heavy footfalls behind you–reminiscent of your days' capture–, you know you're being followed. You don't care, you have to be sure.

The ticking is louder this time, you barely make it halfway to the second floor before that rhythmic beat is making itself known.

Identical to the one before, in the center of the building, the center of the room.

"Mouse, what the hell- oh."

You turn again, rushing out of the room and down the stairs once more. Passing a startled König halfway down who hurries to turn and catch up with you.

"Captain, we've got another-" Gaz is still upstairs, now making his way down, and you hear him as clearly as you would if you were standing right beside him.

By the fourth confirmed bomb, only a singular building out from where all six of you were supposed to meet up, everything is starting to add up.

Why the building you all had swept through had been completely empty, abandoned even by its invasive occupants. You wouldn't be surprised if the target wasn't here at all–only their lackeys to set up the charges.

Whoever had informed Price had received either incorrect or intentionally deceiving intel.

A trap, and now all six of you were stuck in it.

"König, Gaz, forget the damn explosives an' get the hell out of there-!" Price shouts over the comms and you hear it before you feel it.

A low hum, faint ticking, a final, louder click before the noise stops altogether.

The three of you are at the bottom of the last building you'd investigated, the ground rumbles beneath you, accompanied by an ear-splitting crash and boom of the bomb going off.

The first only sets off a chain reaction, beginning from the one above you and working backward from where you came–leaving no option but to continue on forward.

Shouts and panicked voices continue to crackle over the radios attached to König and Gaz, that is the least of your concerns when the walls around you are starting to crack and crumble beneath their own weight.

Running purely on instinct, on nothing but the need to get out and survive, you don't look back. Leaving the two nobodies behind as you leap and crash through the nearest window. Charging through empty streets and weaving between the debris that rains from above.

You think you hear someone calling your name but it's drowned out by the overwhelming sounds of falling buildings, brick against cement. Shattering glass in the few windows that still had them, metal support beams narrowly missing you by a hair's width.

A yelp, a sound foreign to you, rips from your throat as something snags on your pant leg, tripping you over your own feet and sending you tumbling.

You're up again and rolling for cover just in time before a large chunk of concrete slams into the ground in the exact spot you had been mere seconds ago.

There's no time to catch your breath, no time to check behind you or look for your captors–you have to go.

And go you do, until you're unsure which way is left and right, up and down; lost in a maze of broken streets and the remnants of fallen structures.

Dust and other particle debris have created a dense fog over the wreckage, clouding even your enhanced vision and you once again find yourself grateful for the cloth that tethers you–protecting you, even if just temporarily, from the polluted air.

Methodically, you find the wherewithal to analyze and catalog every inch of your person. A small bit of relief soothes your frantic mind as you find no new injuries–only a burning in the older ones from the strain of being on your feet for so long.

You find an odd comfort in those, the ache in your thigh, the throb of your arm, they remind you that you're still here. That you're alive.

You let your weight drop heavy against the broken half wall behind you, tipping your head up towards the blocked-out sky and panting.

They're probably wondering where you are, if you're even alive- then it hits you,

What if you just.. didn't go back?

They wouldn't know if you were alive or dead, if you had run away or gotten trapped under the fallen scraps of cement.

This was the perfect opportunity. The perfect time to get up and shamble away. Find a way out of what remains of this city, out of this damn country–whichever one it was–and..

And what? Where would you go?

Viktória–your handler–had made it clear you weren't welcomed back when she left you to rot in enemy hands. She likely assumed you were dead anyway.

Even if you resented her, even if she'd been the cause of your suffering over the expanse of your life–twenty-two years and counting–; you still couldn't find it in yourself to.. hate her.

She was the one to tend to your wounds after a particularly bad session, to be the one to call off ones that went too far. The ones that pushed you to the point of blacking out.

The blare of a phone cuts off your internal monologue, causing you to flinch against the sudden spike in the beginnings of a budding migraine.

A phone? You didn't.. you don't have a phone. Have nothing more than the strap around your throat–the tracker around your throat.

It takes your overstimulated ears a prolonged moment to pinpoint the source, and when you find it your confusion only grows.

Slowly, you push yourself up to a half crawl, half walk, making your way for the incessant ring of a payphone.

Dirt-encrusted gloves grapple for the handset of the worn phone, other hand stabilizing yourself on the plastic lip of the box.

Not really expecting a response, and clueless on how the damned thing even survived the explosion, you hold the receiver to your ear, muttering a scratchy, "hello?"

"Myš." Comes the voice in the other line, sounding almost.. relieved?

Your muscles immediately tense up at the sound of your handlers' voice, fingers gripping the phone tightly.

"Vik." You force out, words stilted. "What do y'want?"

"You're still alive." She states the obvious and you know better than to read the surprise in her voice as anything more than it is. "Good."

You consider revisiting that shouting match from the day you'd been captured, feeling that warm anger bubbling just beneath your skin.

You don't.

"I see you've gotten well acquainted with your targets. They trust you, yes?"

"Not quite." Where the fuck is this going? She abandoned you, so why is she acting as if nothing happened?

"I trust you can rectify that."

"What do you want, Vik?"

"Predator-107, that is what you are," She starts, a familiar resolve in her tone. "And I am here to properly debrief your current ongoing assignment."

"So.. you meant for me to get caught?"

"That we did. Had to make it believable, make those men think they had the upper hand. Any injuries you sustained were a necessary sacrifice, to cement the idea that you were helpless."

The clinical, logic-based words sunk their claws deep into you–a certain calm drowning out your previously panicked thoughts. This was something you knew, could latch onto, this you could handle.

An assignment. You hadn't been abandoned after all.

"What do you need from me?"

"Intel. Gather it. We need every scrap of information you can dig up on these soldiers. I want every word they speak, every action they make, transcribed and sent to me."

"May I ask why?"

"You may not." Is her immediate response. "But I will tell you."

"These men who call themselves heroes, who claim to be the ones to make the enemy scared of the dark, have been.. causing problems." And problems required immediate pruning, that was lesson number one. "Tailing us. Getting far too close for comfort, one could say. She wants them gone, but we need to know them from the inside out first. All previous attempts have only encouraged them."

"And that's where I come in?"

"Yes, 107, that is where you come in.."

Looks like you wouldn't be making a run for it after all.

"We need you to collect data, do anything you can to gain their trust. Infiltrate and collect, that is your assignment."

"Got it." A pause, then you ask, "how did you know I'd be here anyway?"

"We didn't." Ah, so it was purely luck-based. Lovely. "We always have your location on hand, it wasn't difficult to devise a method of contact after that."

They were still tracking you? After all these years, you really shouldn't be surprised.

The note König had given back to weights heavily in your pocket, burning a hole into your thigh. You neglect to mention it.

"Received." You mutter. "I better get back before they think of me dead."

Or, worse, that you left.

"On the other side, 107." Then the line goes dead, not even static or a dial tone. Completely severed now that it had served its purpose.

Just like you'd be one day.

The trek to find the others is long and exhausting and you're a bit surprised to see them there, waiting for you. König pacing about while Price talks in a hushed voice to a man you'd never seen before.

You suppose this must be the fabled Nikolai you'd heard so much about. Namely by Gaz.

Soap is the first to spot you, perking up and elbowing Ghost who stands beside him.

The two of them turn to look at you in a synchronized flick of their eyes, Ghost muttering something that sounds like a call for attention under his breath.

"Mouse." Price says when you get within, what the other man probably assumes is, hearing distance.

"Ay." You breathe, regarding each of them with a tired glance and tilting your head in greeting towards the presumed Nikolai.

"Thought you'd bailed on us." Price continues.

You can do nothing but give a small shrug of your shoulders, grunting. "Not like I got anywhere else to go."

You catch König's eyes doing a quick once over of your worn body, searching for any new injuries. When he comes up empty he gives you a brief nod.

"This is the new one, then?" Nikolai asks. The familiar, distinct Russian accent that tinged his words freezes you where you stand.

You drag your gaze back up to him, forcing the rigidness out of your body one muscle at a time.

"Mouse." You say in lieu of a formal introduction.

"Nikolai." He parrots back. There's a tense moment where you two regard one another and you briefly consider him a possible spy to make sure you stay on task. Doing a mental catalog of all the people you've met before and coming up blank, to which you immediately drop the idea.

He looks at you like there's something recognizable in your voice–no matter how much effort you put in to keep it as neutral as possible.

You turn away first, walking over to take your place beside Gaz and your assigned babysitter, König. Price and Nikolai exchange a few more words before the captain waves a hand and turns, the man's words drowned out by your turbulent thoughts.

The flight is quick and uninterrupted, the subsequent landing much the same. When addressed you merely respond in clipped words and hums of acknowledgment, strangely enough, wanting nothing more than to return to your unofficial cell.

The debrief is postponed in favor of treating the few injuries sustained by the others and soon enough König is escorting you back to said room.

On direct orders himself to get checked out after securing you in your cell, König leaves. Locking the door behind him.

His absence isn't the drag it usually is and you immediately beeline for the tiny desk pushed up against the far right of the room, nestled into the corner of the same wall shared by the door.

Sitting down in the creaky chair you shove a hand into your pocket, gloved fingers curling around the flimsy paper you've looked over many times before.

You unfold it, reading the same unintelligible red once again. Just to be sure.

Viktória hadn't mentioned the note, so neither had you. Now that you thought about it, the paper was likely intentionally left blank. To make you assume the worst; make you think you'd been left behind–which you had.

The washed-out red, nearly pink now, is familiar. A color you've come to associate with your handlers' usual messages.

The handwriting, however, doesn't belong to her–far too jagged compared to the neat, curved lines you were used to.

___

One | Two | Three | Masterlist | Next

___

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @gloma08 @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm @mello-life69 @unkn0wnd3ad @tayaisback @starre-eyes @ravage-reposts @suhmie @lazyrel

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments!

#call of duty #male reader #cod x male reader #könig cod #könig x male reader #reader insert #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #gay

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 months

Note

🦷 for…literally anyone. Go crazy with this

CW: BBU, some mouth whumpiness although the whump is emotional, medical whump

"Okay, here we go. Now, I'm going to insert this into your mouth, and you're going to bite down, as evenly as you can, and hold it until I say. Got it?"

Oskar looks at the little plastic tray in Arvid's hand as though the spongy, grayish thing inside of it is something alive that might bite him at any second. "Why?"

"I want to make a mold of your teeth."

Oskar shifts rapidly backwards in the exam chair in Arvid's 'medical room', also known as the half of his basement space he doesn't sleep in. One wrist brushes against the open leather buckles that can be used to restrain patients and he flinches violently away from it, face going suddenly white except for two red spots in his cheeks. "But-"

Arvid closes his eyes, taking a breath. "Oskar. Just do it."

Oskar shakes his head, curling his knees up to his chest and sliding his arms around his legs. His mouth opens and closes a few times on a word that never seems to quite make its way out. "I-... I don't want to," He whispers, hiding the bottom half of his face behind his knees, only his dark eyes showing, staring, hurt, at Arvid. "I don't want to do that. Please, Arvid, I-I don't, I don't want to-"

"Oskar," Arvid says, keeping his voice calm only with difficulty. This is irritating. "

Oskar's eyes drop and he stares down at the stirrups that hang off the end on long metal poles, where patients can slide their feet and hold their legs open. If possible, he blanches even further, and Arvid fights down his annoyance at the delay. "I have Samael coming in in like half an hour for bloodwork, we need to get this done before she gets here."

Oskar curls himself up even more tightly, closing his eyes and giving his head one more weak shake. "Please," He whispers. "I don't want to."

"Oskar. It is just to get a teeth mold! This is completely normal!" He thinks. Actually, Arvid doesn't have much of a comparison for normal, but it's normal for the work he does, anyway. He has molds of the mouths of all of the archangels and most of the other employees of the organization, too. He has molds of his own teeth, damn it. "I'm tired of you wasting my time with this, so just... fucking do as I say. You're my pet, aren't you?"

Oskar's breaths are coming shallowly, and he doesn't open his eyes. "Yes," He whispers. "I am." One of his hands moves to touch the collar around his neck, as if reminding himself. "I, I am yours."

"Right. So just. So just do the thing, so we can get it done and I can go back to doing my actual job before Samael shows up and wonders why nothing's ready for her..." He trails off as he hears a strange noise, like a clicking, and tilts his head. His eyes trail downward, until he realizes... it's the chair rattling in place.

Oskar is shaking so hard the exam chair is shaking, too.

"... hey." Arvid looks down at the molding clay in the dental tray - it'll dry out and be more or less useless if this takes much longer - and then, with a sigh, he sets it back down on the little metal rolling table and reaches out, putting one hand on either side of Oskar's face. "Talk to me. What's wrong with this? The tray, the... the chair? Is that it?"

Oskar hesitates, then opens his eyes again, looking up at Arvid without raising his chin. "... both."

"Okay... uh. What the fuck is wrong with them?" The chair is... just a chair. Arvid had gotten it at an insanely low price some years back during a private estate sale he decided not to look too closely into - but Oskar is clearly terrified of the damn thing. He's not even restrained - Arvid only uses those when one of the archangels is violent or hallucinating.

"Clinic c-chair." Oskar's teeth click together from his trembling. His eyes are glimmering in the lights with tears that haven't fallen yet. "The, the mold for a-... a gag, I don't... I don't want to have a gag here, Arvid. I don't-... I don't want to-"

"What? It's-... it's not for a gag."

Oskar swallows hard, licking at his lips. "It's... not?"

"No... no. Jesus Christ, Oskar, it's for if you get hurt and lose a tooth or something, so we can get you a good screw-in tooth and shit. I was thinking the other day about how you've ended up going out on fieldwork with me twice, plus you've been climbing the tree in the yard, and just in case, we should have shit ready to go for your records. That's all."

Oskar glances sidelong at the little plastic tray, then back at him. His lips press into a thin line, the skin paling at the pressure, before he tries to talk again. "I don't... want anything in m-my mouth, Arvid. Please-... I, I can't. Please, please don't make me. Please."

Arvid inhales. He knows if he checks his phone that time is running out, Samael's going to walk in any fucking second. "Oskar. We are going to do this and we are going to do this now. Open your fucking mouth. I am ordering you, as your owner, to open your mouth."

The look of open, honest pain and fear on Oskar's face sends a twist of some strange unpleasant chill through Arvid's chest, but he at least slowly nods and - jaw trembling - opens his mouth wide for Arvid to slide in the tray, then bites gently down. Sounds come, unbidden, from his throat - muffled whines that he doesn't even seem fully conscious of. Arvid can all but see his pulse racing in the spot just under his jaw. His eyes lock on Arvid's face and stay there.

"Good boy," Arvid soothes. Usually praise is a one-way ticket to fixing Oskar's bad moods, but this time it just seems to bounce right off him. The tears finally fall, running in clear trails over his cheekbones. Arvid wipes them away with his thumb and Oskar flinches, minutely, never quite pulling away. "It's all right. It's all right. Just a few more seconds..."

He takes the little handle on the tray, murmurs for Oskar to open carefully and slowly, and pulls it out to set it aside and get the next one ready for the bottom teeth. Oskar's trembling never stops, the chair rattling lightly, the pet's fingers dug into the padding until his knuckles are pure white.

Arvid finishes the second tray, and as soon as he removes it and says a soft all done, you were very good, Oskar uncurls, bolts off the chair, and races past the curtain that separates the two halves of Arvid's life. His feet slap on the concrete floor and Arvid watches him go, sighing.

He hears Oskar climb into the bed, the gentle squeak of the springs in the mattress as he buries himself under blankets and probably curls right back up into the little ball likes that. Muffled sobs are just barely audible, and Arvid's teeth itch to go ask him to stop that shit, it's annoying and he has shit to do today, he can't waste his time comforting Oskar's every fear.

But... he caused the fear.

Arvid hesitates, feeling that strange unpleasant twist again.

It's guilt.

He inhales, looking over at the curtain. "Oskar..." He trails off. He should just... go over there and apologize, hold him for a while, let him talk about it or something. It'd be the kind thing to do, and Oskar is the best thing he has in his life these days.

There's a harsh, loud sniff. "Yes?" Oskar's voice is thick and heavy with his tears.

"Listen, I just-" The door to the basement opens and Samael, a woman who seems created entirely in shades of black and slightly less black, steps inside. Arvid swallows the rest of his sentence.

The sounds of Oskar's fear stop - muffled even more thoroughly as he must hear Samael enter, too.

"Am I early?" Sam asks, eyebrows raising. The piercing in one glints in the flat white light of the exam side of the room. "Where's your little creature, isn't he around you all the time these days?"

"He's... busy," Arvid says. "Just give me a second to get the vials ready for you."

"Busy? Doing what?" Sam hops up onto the exam table, even swinging her legs a little. She's maybe five foot three on a good day, but Arvid knows damn well she can snap necks with her thighs alone and is one of the best in the business. "What do pets even do?"

Arvid ignores her. He walks over to peek around the curtain, faintly smiling as he sees the very Oskar-shaped lump on the bed, a hint of his hair showing on the pillow.

"We'll talk about it later," He says, pitching his voice low. "Okay?"

There's a rustle as Oskar shifts around under the blankets he's hidden himself in. He peeks out, just a bit of hair and pale forehead and huge eyes. "Yes, sir," He says, voice weak.

Arvid sighs. Oh, good. He's sir again. Great.

Sometimes, this shit is harder than he thought it would be.

#whump #arvid olsen hates the sun #oskar #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #medical whump #mouth whump #not really but #emotional whump #based around the mouth and bad memories so #arvid is sometimes an asshole

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daichiduskdrop · 9 months

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 21

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: none!

Words: 3390

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

„And what about Barbie? The movie came out not too long ago; have you seen it yet?” Yuki asked, his voice airy and happy.

The short boy held tight on to Moonsik's hand, pulling the older beta after himself. He could already smell the comfort the Omega Store brought him.

„No, not yet, have you?” You asked, looking up at him. He shook his head. „No, I haven't. We were supposed to go with the pack, but we had been quite busy, so it didn't work out yet."

You could hear just the slightest disappointment in his voice, but it didn't take too long for him to brighten up.

„We will go soon; don't worry, baby.” Moonsik spoke calmly, ruffling up the already messy hair Yuki had.

And so, you all entered the store, where many high-quality beddings of all different sizes and patterns were neatly stocked on the tall shelves.

The omega led the way right away, pulling his mate along and mumbling something about the new silk line of sheets. While their pack certainly wasn't poor; the beta realised well that they still had to keep up with a budget set earlier, but there was no harm in looking around.

He would make sure to keep their own omega in check, though, making sure he wouldn't go overboard with things. Of course he would let him get new things for his nest; who was he to say no?

„Princess, where would you like to go first?” You looked back at the alpha, his smile soft. He couldn't help but coo to himself at you; you looked precious.

You really were, though, for them anyway.

Taking a few short steps towards you, Jimin's soft hands went around your cheeks, gently giggling at how squishy and soft they were. You were adorable.

„How about we look at the blankets first?” Pulling you from his younger packmate, Hobi took your hand in his, your other palm still in the packalpha's.

Leading you towards the large quilt, duvet, and blanket section, there were much too many to choose from. Ranging from all different sizes and prints, there were cheaper ones and also more pricey ones from the more luxurious line, which the alphas were quite interested in.

Looking over at the tall, folded fabrics first, you couldn't help but brush your fingers over a brown and white wool throw. It had a few threads cut neatly at the end, reminding you of pretty scarves.

„Come here, look at this one bunbun! It's so soft; here, baby, touch it!” The youngest alpha gasped out, picking up the carefully folded item before he skipped over to the three of you.

Setting your hands free, you gingerly ran your palm over the clean white duvet; the fabric was truly soft and nice to touch. Squeezing it softly, you could tell it was filled with feathers, therefore it would be expensive.

You hummed gently, nodding to Jungkook. It certainly was soft; that was true. Beaming at you, the alpha happily placed it back before he selected a much bigger size in a plastic, scent-free packaging.

Your eyes widened a little bit, not realising that Jungkook would just like that decide to take something to buy, solemnly based on your small smile and nod.

„What-? N-no, you ca-can't just-” You whispered out, shocked to your core. You noticed the price tag; it was over a million ₩ for god's sake! That was way too much on a simple duvet, plus you already had one too!

The man turned to you after placing the package into a cart pushed by Yoongi. „What do you mean, honeybun? Don't you want to have your own little nest?” He walked back over to you, bending to look closer at your face.

His eyes seemed so big and sweet, pulling at your heart strings. You suddenly felt shy, looking away.

„...I don't ne-nest, oppa." You whined out, having the packmate's closest by turning to look at you, hearing your soft distress. Pulling you to himself quickly, Jungkook lightly rubbed your back, scenting you a bit.

„I know sweet bunny, I know. But I think you should maybe try a little; you're such a good girl for alphas aren't you? When was the last time you did?” He asked, being mindful not to be too loud.

There weren't that many people in the store, but still, they wanted to avoid any commotion if possible. You looked away again, Hobi's fingers gently running through your hair to calm you down further.

„I don't know...” You whispered out, truly not sure. It was quite a long time, for sure. You had definitely brought some nesting materials for your grandfather's funeral, but since they carried a lot of your family's scents, you must have stopped using them soon after.

You heard Hoseok sigh out a bit. They weren't angry or disappointed at you; they would never, but still, it wasn't too healthy, worrying them to their very core.

While nesting was a quite usual act for omega's to do, it also always placed them in a very vulnerable position. A nest was only to be touched and entered after the omega's approval, and until then it was a forbidden fruit.

Not everyone understood that well, and a lot of them could end up scarred and too worried to build a nest for the rest of their lives.

It was a very important thing to do so, not just a silly tradition to use for heats and ruts. It ran in the people's blood, provided a safe spot for the pack's future pups if possible, and was therefore the most guarded spot of all pack houses.

Not only did it hold their littlest babies, it would much more likely hold their precious omega, which needed to be protected and guarded at all times.

And if not built from time to time on natural instincts, it could only mean that the person would end up more stressed and worried over time, leading to possible health issues.

Now that the pack has started the courting process with you, they have realised that it would be a rather good idea to get a separate room with the solemn purpose of a nest, hopefully made by you.

And so, as they were preparing to start the den, the other guest room they had would soon be transformed into one. They would still need to buy quite a few things, and so this stop at the store was a helpful start.

They might not get everything right away, but it would be a good thing to look around for now. And to especially take note of the things you like and what isn't up your alley.

„It's okay, peaches. You can always try again, hm? Alphas will always keep you safe, baby; don't worry.” Jin smiled softly at you, also pulling you to his chest for a beat or two.

„...Thank you, oppa." You mumbled out, your cheek squished up against his body. He chuckled softly at you, gently petting your hair before he pulled away.

„How about we take a look at the bed posts?” You nodded gratefully, gladly letting the alpha pull you after himself, a few of them trailing after you.

The large open section was filled with beds of all different sizes and shapes. Showcasing the mattress options and the many duvets, pillows, and covers, it held many different types.

And so you all looked around for a few minutes, walking through the wooden posts and the metal ones too. You always wanted to have a very cosy room to nest in, but considering how cramped your apartment was, it never looked that way; the room was only messy.

You weren't too sure about what the packmates would be interested in having their den look like; there were many styles, and each pack had a much different one.

While some enjoyed the bright and light room and the colourful sheets with many patterns, others preferred having a more casual look with posters or mirrors hung up.

You didn't really get to see any proper dens in your life, but you always enjoyed the more sleepy-looking ones—dark, comfortable sheets that just made you sleepy looking at them.

„We haven't measured the room yet, but which one do you like the best?" The packalpha asked, bended over to be face-to-face with you. His warm palms were at the arms of your pink coat, gently running over the fabric comfortingly.

It was quite a big store with many scents, and while the facemasks helped with being overwhelmed, the alphas were still on a constant watch over you entering a sudden drop.

You looked back over the many options. You weren't too sure exactly what you liked the most. There were simpler solid wood ones with a bed base only, and then a few of the much more complicated-looking ones, with the four posters, those were definitely meant to feed into the more natural instincts of many omegas.

You also really liked the look of the platform bed frames; the mattress is simply placed over the step of wood. It looked sleek and timeless.

You shrugged your shoulders, having the alpha softly pull you to himself once again. He could tell you were overwhelmed by the many options, sighing gently.

„It's okay, sweetheart. Do you prefer the wooden or metal ones, pup? We can go from there. Alpha will help you baby.” He smiled softly at you, encouraging you to make a much simpler decision.

„...I think I like the w-wood better." You said, your chin resting over the alpha's collarbone. He smiled widely, his dimples showing. You couldn't see them, though, with the mask covering it all up.

„Good job, sweetie. And what shape do you like the best?” He continued encouraging you. There were quite a few styles of beds you could choose from, with the circular ones being more traditional.

You never truly liked those; you always felt like something was a bit too cramped, and it looked awkward in the room too, if not placed with the utmost detail.

„M-maybe the normal rectangular? I'm not sure." You said. You did not want to offend anyone. He might love the other styles, for all you know.

„It's okay, pup. Thank you for telling me, baby, Alpha is very proud of his good girl.” Namjoon said calmly, knuckles running over the skin of your cheek.

Soon after the packalpha led you around the rest of the store, a few pillows, duvets, bedsheets, and other small things like new towels and sleeping mists filled up the large cart.

You held onto Namjoon's hand tightly the whole time you visited the store, only occasionally letting go to touch a few of the comforting fabrics.

„Kitty, come look here. What do you think?” Yoongi called out gently at the very end of the long row while you and a few of the alphas lingered at the front, looking over the blankets on display.

You walked over quickly, curious to see what had the alpha call out for your attention. While Yoongi held the cart most of the shopping spree, he didn't make much move to have you touch everything he found nice, letting you look around yourself first.

Instead, he just plucked the things he thought you might like right in the cart, hoping you would like them just as much as he did. He might have been one of the most quiet ones the entire time there, but for sure was one of the alphas that chose the most things for you.

With you coming closer, his arm outstretched lightly, your hand taken in his own right away. He smiled a little to himself, hiding it cleverly behind his own facemask.

Infront of him was a tidy row of a few plushies. They weren't the regular stuffed animal type, cleverly designed especially for more clingy and touch starved omegas that might have some hard times from time to time.

Placed in a plastic sealed box with a one always unboxed for the customers to touch and take a closer look at, there were many colours and types of animals, like soft pink rabbits, bears with fun outfits on, elephants and puppies, foxes or even dragons of all sizes and colours.

You had only a few toys growing up, and soft animals you could sleep with were always your favourite. You didn't have any now, unfortunately, but these weren't just a simple toy to cuddle with, no, these held a much better purpose.

As it was quite unusual for omegas to work, it was normal for them to stay back at the packhouse most of the time. Typically, another packmate would stay to keep them company, mostly to calm the rest of the pack not present down from the constant worry.

But sometimes, it wasn't possible to stay with them and everyone was required for their own arrands.

While the pack would most likely try and come back home as soon as possible, not comfortable with leaving the omegas fully by themselves, it would be quite usually nerve wracking and usually scary for the weakest second genders.

A well scented pillow or a blanket could help, but not all materials held in the smell for long enough, not working greatly.

And so a few companies started making smaller pillows and stuffed animals, that carried a special patch of fabric that would be practically drenched in the packmembers scent and wouldn't let go of it for a long time.

The items would be sold quite frequently, more and more packs using them to help from creating any stressful situations for their little ones, making more stores sell such, a giant trend settling.

You never had a thing like this, there was really no use for it with you, but you heard about them a few years ago. You liked the idea of having one though.

„Hm baby? What about the cat, it's pretty cute...” the alpha mumbled, the black fluffy cat with pretty eyes, one yellow and one green and light pink ears looked adorable for sure. It had a white tip on its tail, and was pretty big too.

„Hyung, that's not a cat that's like... A panther or something, that's too scary. Look honey, they have such a cute rabbit, don't you want one? You are my baby bunny, and it also kinda looks like Kooky too, how about that one?”

The youngest alpha hopped over, taking the pink bunny in his arms, showing you. It looked quite fluffy, and had long floppy ears that were just as long as it torso. With the special fabric to be placed into its paw, it would surely be more than nice.

„I think the puppy is much cuter princess, don't listen to silly Kookie. Do you want this one my most precious?" Jimin asked, holding the larger dog in his hands.

It was grey and white, each limb and part of its body a different colour, with a big oval nose and large black eyes. The large ears only added to the cuteness; they were quite bigger than its own legs.

You smiled softly, patting the animal. It was very sweet, warming you up on the inside.

„But babycheeks, look at the tiger; it's so soft! And it's a snow tiger too; that means it's extra speci-”" Taehyung said, letting you run your fingers over the white stripey animal. It was very comfortable to touch, for sure.

„You guys, stop. Let her choose whatever she likes the most; which one is the best pup?” Namjoon asked, pulling you gently closer to himself.

To be truthful, he was eyeing the wolf plush on the higher shelf himself.

You looked over the many options, reaching for the one that caught your eye from the very beginning. You couldn't bring yourself to decide which one you liked better exactly; you were not sure of your decision.

Reaching for the lamb, you pulled out the plastic box, holding it close to yourself. Still looking over at the different-coloured one, Seokjin was quick to notice, taking it out for you too.

„You want both cubs? That's okay, they are adorable.” He was quick to calm you down, taking the box from your arms and placing it carefully at the very top of the cart.

And so, with those in, the alphas made sure to quickly praise your choice before you were all on your way to check out—the black lamb and the white lamb paid for first.

Taking them for you, you and Hobi stood near the check-out, looking over the two comfort companions the pack had decided to get for you.

”...the scent spot is then placed in the sown pocket; it's closed off with velcro so it won't fall out. There will instruction manual in the box too; don't worry.” The man said as he scanned the many items the alphas have chosen for you today.

„Okay, thank you very much.” The eldest alpha replied, thankful that the clerk could answer the few questions he had regarding the scent animal.

„No problem; you can always stop by and we will help with any issues.” The man answered, not really paying attention to what Jin was saying.

Thanking him softly, he paid, the few other alphas carrying the bigger bags. With Moonsik and Yuki already waiting for your group by the entrance, the beta carried a much smaller bag himself.

„It was so sweet to meet you!” Yuki said happily, glad to make a new friend—an omega at that.

You nodded yourself, smiling widely. You haven't made such a nice friend in a long time, and you were beaming with excitement.

„We have to go back home now, but we will go out together again, right?” You nodded happily, typing in the omega's number, and a few of the packmembers saved Moonsik's and Yuki's numbers too.

„Yes, I would love to!” You happily answered, linking your pinkie with his for a sealed promise. You wanted to hang out with the omega much more often; you two had already made a few plans for movies and shows you would like to watch together.

And so, soon, the pair waved you goodbye, walking off towards the main exit of the mall. „We still need to buy a few things, baby peaches; let's go see some other shops.” Jin said, smiling gently at you and linking your finger with his.

It didn't take too long before most of the men dispersed into a few different directions, making sure to say proper goodbyes to you and letting you know exactly where they would be.

With Jin, and Hobi having to go grocery shopping, Jungkook wanting to check out the game store, and a few other things too, Jimin and Taehyung went on towards the few clothing boutiques, sneakily checking your shoe size this morning, happy to buy you more clothes.

And so, Yoongi and Namjoon took a hand each, Namjoon carrying a bag from the bedding store himself. They both decided to take you around a few stores they liked the best.

The first stop was the book store. While it wasn't the biggest, the packalpha had already started planning a trip to the biggest in Seoul with you soon, it had a nice selection and therefore had the alpha hooked on checking it out.

It was well lit, with a few smaller sections upfront showcasing the new bestsellers and a larger proper row of many filled-up bookshelves in the back of the store.

„What type of books do you like the best?" He asked you, leaning towards you to hear you better. You liked to read; you always did, but with school hours, you didn't always have as much time for it as you hoped you would.

„Maybe the m-more psychological ones? With a deeper thought...” You whispered, looking up at the man. He smiled softly at you, his chin going over the top of your head in a calming motion.

„What a good choice, sweetheart. Alpha will go look for a few you might like; how 'bout that?” He asked, his thumb running over your knuckles.

You nodded shyly, smiling. Namjoon stood back up tall, patting your back gently before he went on through the book sections he had in mind. There were already a few good picks he remembered liking.

„Let's see what they have, hm, little kitty?”

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

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liu-anhuaming · 3 months

Text

Reading Chinese Ebooks on 讀墨 ReadMoo

For the past few years, I've labored under the assumption that I can't read Chinese ebooks because I just can't focus on them. However, I recently saw someone on insta mention the app 讀墨. I was intrigued, and decided to give it a try. And wow, what a shock, I can in fact read Chinese ebooks! I just have to change it to vertical text and make the font very large.

So the past couple weeks I've been trying to read more consistently using 讀墨. The book I started with was slow going at first, which almost made me give up; it was the Chinese translation of The Last Cuentista by Donna Barba Higuera. This book really wasn't for me, and I didn't want to keep reading it. So instead of just giving up, I bought one more book and tried again: 《你的孩子不是你的孩子》 by 吳曉樂 (yes, it is the basis for the Netflix show of the same name).

I devoured the book in under a week. So yeah, I think Chinese ebooks work for me if I like the book.

Below is gonna be an overview of the app, and my thoughts on it so far. It's not comprehensive though, since there's a lot of things on this app I haven't explored yet (like the audiobooks).

***Please note that 讀墨 is a Taiwanese app, and as such it mainly offers books written in traditional characters. There are apparently books written in simplified available, but I haven't explored those since I'm fine reading traditional.***

Buying Books

Buying books is fairly simple. You make an in-app purchase of coins, which you then use to buy books. Note: As of writing this, I have recently recently received a notification from the app that their book purchasing system will be changing soon. Instead of being able to buy the books in the app, you'll have to log in to your account in a browser and buy the books there. The books will apparently then appear on the app for you to read.

As it stands, 210 coins costs $10.99, and the books I've bought have ranged in price from 210 to about 300 coins. That means the books cost ~$11-$16, just like a regular book. This could be pricey, but since I'd otherwise be paying for international shipping if I were buying a physical copy, this feels like a bargain to me. (For me, shipping books from Taiwan/China to the US typically doubles the price of the purchase rip)

Once you buy the book, it's in your library for you to start whenever you please.

As for browsing for books, I haven't gone too in-depth yet. I went in to 讀墨 with a TBR and went for books off that list exclusively. When it comes to buying books online, I almost always go on whatever site I'm buying from with a list of the books I'm thinking of buying. I get recommendations elsewhere (e.g., Goodreads or insta).

Reading Books

The 讀墨 reading interface is pretty typical for an e-reader app. What makes me like it way better than other apps I've used is that it has a lot more customization options.

For starters, you've got 6 options for page/text color. There's the typical black, white, and sepia, but there's also blue and green! I use the 奶綠 option, since I don't like having such a stark contrast between the text and the background when reading on my phone for long periods.

Then there's the options for changing the text size and spacing. You can make it bigger or smaller as you please, and put more or less space between each line of text.

You can also change the font. There's 8 different fonts you can choose from, including the default. There's even a font that puts 注音 next to each character! You can see a preview of that one in the photo below.

And then, there's the option to switch between horizontal and vertical text. The default is horizontal text, but I've come to prefer vertical when reading Chinese novels. If you go to your settings on your profile, you can make vertical text your default, which is what I ended up doing.

Like any good e-reader, there's options to highlight text. There's four different colors you can use (pink, yellow, purple, and blue). If you go the ToC, you can find all of your highlights and filter by color of highlight. Super convenient, since I've been using pink to highlight words/phrases I don't know or find interesting and yellow to highlight key sentences/paragraphs.

Aside from highlighting, when you select text you have the option to look the characters up in a dictionary or online. I've been getting a lot of errors with this recently, but I'm wondering if that's just my phone acting weird? It worked perfectly fine when I first started using the app. Anyways, the dictionary it takes you to is 夢典 MoeDict and it opens in a browser. This personally is a bit annoying bc I actually have this dictionary app installed on my phone, but this is a minor complaint. The dictionary opening in a new browser tab is a non-issue.

Reading Stats

Now, I'm a big dork and love to track my reading stats. To my great satisfaction, 讀墨 keeps track of some stats. The main one is time spent reading. You can set a daily goal (the minimum is 20 minutes), and if you reach it you get a nice checkmark on the calendar. The calendar doesn't update until the very end of each day, so if you've reached your goal for the day it won't show on the calendar until the next day.

Also, keep in mind time differences between where you live and Taiwan. I'm ~12 hours behind Taiwan, so the app doesn't start a new day until around noon for me.

Below the calendar, there's a chart that shows your total reading times for a week, month, or year. I normally can't be bothered to time my reading (especially not when I'm reading physical books) so this is cool to see. I think when it comes to reading in Chinese, being timed is more interesting because I'm able to more clearly gauge progress.

And below all that, there's a breakdown of the genres you read. I don't pay much attention to genre when choosing books, so I don't find this one quite as interesting.

(tfw you're reading a non-fiction book about a tutor so your main genre becomes 教育)

Overall Thoughts

So yeah, I've enjoyed myself so far. Aside from the reading interface, I find the app pretty easy to navigate. I spent a bit of time just clicking around and was able to figure out what's what pretty quick.

Like I said, this isn't a comprehensive review, but I'd recommend giving the app a try if you're willing/able to put down money for ebooks and are able to read traditional. It feels worth the money for me, since the interface is pretty customizable and easy to use.

If you're wondering where to find simplified ebooks, idk. This is my first real foray into Chinese ebooks, so I don't really know where to find them for simplified or traditional. I have heard that it is a little easier to pirate Chinese ebooks since their copyright laws are a little different than ours in the US?

#langblr #mandarin chinese #mandarin langblr #chinese langblr #learn mandarin chinese #learn mandarin #learn chinese #mine #books

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darlingkirstein · 27 days

Note

eremika in any sort of romcom setting hehe

i think this is romcom-y enough??? idk it's a silly little meet cute in fantastically cheesy unrealistic scenario so i think it fits the romcom vibe Teehee🩷 hope you enjoy my pookie wookie vic <3

actor au / fluffy / rated e for everyone / 3.6k

Mikasa toils over the counter, sifting through the different orders — many have rather well-renowned names attached — to decide which ones to tackle first. Being a barista proves more difficult than she initially imagined. All she needed was a simple job to help pay the rent; the coffee shop being on a movie studio lot has been an added bonus, a chance to mingle with stars.

And by mingle, she means floundering interactions with the latest growing stars with their persnickety drink orders, some quick to complain at the smallest errors. Whenever she gets the opportunity to see someone whose likeness is stamped on a poster in her room, Mikasa mangles all attempts at compliments. Trying to praise their work only culminates in rosy cheeks and baffled looks shot back in return.

Exhaling, she gets to work, going through the orders in a procession ascending from least complicated to most tedious. Everyone seems to want extra toppings these days, extra pumps of artificial syrups that turn their 'coffee' into little more than an excessively-priced milkshake. Whatever gets them through the day, she supposes. Making a movie is tricky work.

Mikasa understands this. Sorta. Or at least, she's attempting to. The acting jobs haven't exactly been falling into her lap, though basic probability encourages her that at least one of these countless auditions have to turn into something. She's desperate for anything — at one of her past attempts, an audition for a medicine commercial, the casting agent giggled midway through her delivery of some poorly-written script. The best Mikasa's ever gotten was being an extra for an episode of a new television show — which was promptly cancelled after a first season.

She finishes an affogato and a raspberry danish for Marilyn Lawrence, lounging around on her lunch break from shooting Saturn's Divinity. It apparently takes too much effort to acknowledge Mikasa's calls of her name, too preoccupied by whatever's on her phone to pay much attention.

"Marilyn!" Mikasa repeats, nervous for yet another celebrity interaction. Lawrence only just won a BAFTA for her performance in This Holy House.

With a scoff, the actress strolls to the counter, barely mouthing a thanks before sulking back to a table, carrying all her actress-y things with.

It's hard not to feel like pond scum when the upper echelons of the acting world are hardly willing to spare her simple pleasantries, yet alone anything resembling kindness. Mikasa brushes it off, moving onto the next order.

She just gets started before Marilyn returns.

"This isn't gluten-free, is it?" The spiteful manner in which she asks has Mikasa stammering even before she attempts to answer her question.

"I, uh— I actually don't know. Let me check."

Flustered, she ducks down, foraging for a paper or manual that lists the ingredients. This is something Mikasa knows she should remember, but this job has squeezed out so much of her brain capacity that little else remains.

"You really don't remember?" Marilyn laughs, and Mikasa can hear her continued click-clacking on the phone keyboard, probably complaining to a friend. "You could've killed me, y'know. People have this little thing called celiac. It's important."

Mikasa suspects that Marilyn Lawrence does not have Celiac disease, but she isn't willing to invite even more wrath. "I'm sorry, ma'am, you're—"

"Whatever. Just figure it out and fix it."

When Mikasa falls quiet to continue her search, she expects the frustration to simmer; it doesn't, and Marilyn continues to berate her, though most of her comments are utterly nonsensical. Mikasa's manager is nowhere to be found, useless for getting her out of this less-than-lovely situation.

Her savior comes in the form of a grey-haired gentleman in a suit, bewildered as he bursts through the door, scanning everyone inside — until his gaze falls on Mikasa. He smiles, cell phone pressed tightly against his ear. Though she cannot pin down his name, Mikasa recognizes him as some movie producer, a real big shot.

"You there! Barista! Come with me."

Stunned, Mikasa points to her chest. "Me?"

Marilyn scoffs again. "Uh, hello? What about me?"

The man ignores the Hollywood A-lister, brushing past her to reach the counter. "Yes, you. We need you. I'll explain when we get there. Come on."

Head in a tizzy, Mikasa cocks her head — squinting her eyes, unsure that she isn't fast asleep in the clutches of a dream. What did some movie executive want with some barista?

"I— I think you have the wrong person."

"Jesus, there's no time for this." He turns to the side, muttering harsh words into the phone. "Yeah— I found someone. Just give us a second."

He turns his attention back to Mikasa.

"Are you gonna come with or not? We need you."

At this point, Marilyn has surpassed the angry-scolding-stage and lands in stunned silence. Mikasa still doesn't know what she's needed for, but angering a Hollywood exec is a surefire way to get blacklisted from any future opportunities. They don't want any dead weight in a cast.

"Uh, yeah— No, I'll— I'll go. I'll go."

Opportunities like this are so rare. Mikasa gets so consumed by this fleeting chance that angering her boss isn't even a concern she consciously entertains. As the executive's eyes burn a hole through her head, she feels hypnotized to untie her apron, tossing it aside. It's tempting to pinch her arm, still convinced of a REM-induced trick, but before she can ponder it, Mikasa is crossing the counter, calling her co-worker's name.

The coffee shop's manager finally appears, and as Mikasa is whisked away by the executive's firm grasp, his protests join Marilyn's, though both go utterly unanswered as Mikasa jumps onto a golf cart waiting outside the doors.

It's hard not to feel like Cinderella climbing onto that pumpkin carriage, ready for the ball.

Mikasa's heart races. She tries guessing what possibly awaits her at the end of this ride. Some secret meeting? An agent, excited to tell her that they've been monitoring her auditions and love what they see? All options feel like a pipe dream.

They arrive at an outdoor filming set, and Mikasa wonders over the absolute chaos going on, the cameramen adjusting their equipment, the mousy-haired director shouting commands through his microphone, guiding the team. She recognizes from the lovey-dovey set design that this must be for Before Affection Retires.

"Hey," the executive barks, snapping his fingers, breaking her free from her daze. "Go over to that trailer. Get in costume and then get back here."

Costume? Mikasa is dazed. She can't produce any discernible response, tumbling out of the cart, speedwalking toward the right trailer. She's never done something requiring a costume, only her plain-old, regular street clothes, blending in easily in the background. This is all new.

Before she knows it, Mikasa is donned in a pretty dress that stops just below her knees, its color somewhere between plum and maroon, the shoulders flowy and graceful. The makeup process was even more foreign — Mikasa's daily makeup routine is simplistic to the core, but the stylist here wanted her eyelashes to pop, seductive and primed for romance. A curling iron turns her hair into bouncy, bombshell waves.

She feels so unlike herself, but adrenaline sends her speeding back for the scene of the action, toward the director still barking out commands.

"You!" He cries, pointing. "Get over here! We're starting a shoot in five minutes. Get a script."

Mikasa wonders if every movie set is this hostile, or if everyone here is just having a bad day. One page from the script gets pressed against her chest, along with one order. "Memorize this."

But before she can begin, a frazzled assistant debriefs her on the whole debacle, leading her to the side and gesturing around wildly.

"You know what you're doing? Can you act?"

Mikasa blinks. "Uh, yeah? I can, yeah."

It's clear that answer doesn't instill a whole lot of confidence in the assistant, but regardless, there's apparently no time to waste on nonsense.

"Diana Baldwin is a no show. There's no time in the schedule to skip her scenes today. You'll be filling in for her for the kiss scene. Got all that?"

Diana Baldwin? That's who I'm filling in for?

There's no time to be starstruck. "Got it. Yup."

"Alright, good. You'll say the lines, and they'll do the ADR in post production. You're just a stand-in. That's it. Don't expect overnight fame, yeah?"

Mikasa nods fervently, still so confused. "No fame. That's— I'm no— Why am I here?"

The question comes out without thinking, but that thought hasn't left her mind since the coffee shop, never able to ask in the swirl of chaos.

"You look like her from the back. Same height, same build. The editors can work their magic."

She'll be little more than a green screen, but the thrill of being on a big movie set, stepping in for an actress she's long admired, is worth it.

"Where do I go? Do I— How much time?"

"Three minutes. Get studying."

Mikasa sends herself into a corner to study, scanning the swoonworthy dialogue for the upcoming scene. A big scene. Important, crucial as the romantic climax for a major Hollywood production, and it depends on her.

The words sink in slowly, as best as they can. The last thing Mikasa wants is to earn a director's ire by flubbing the script to a laughable degree. She prepares herself to be flirty, desirable.

"You! Get ready to shoot."

Mikasa scoots into the filming area, finding the mark on the grass guiding her position. As she assumes the position provided by the script, glancing absentmindedly toward the side, she catches glimpses of camera operators approaching, microphones getting closer.

"Action!"

As directed, Mikasa tilts her eyes upward — finally catching a view at her co-star. Damn near jeopardizing the sanctity of the shoot, she struggles hard to keep her jaw from dropping.

Eren Jaeger. A total heartthrob. Mikasa's harbored a subtle (not really) crush on him for the last few years, just when he began his ascent into Hollywood relevancy. She's seen most of his movies, praising multiple as her favorites. God, Mikasa knows she'll even watch the less-than-savory options, the ones without glowing reviews — independent films with tiny budgets and screenwriters that need fine tuning. She has his films ranked by her favorites, but even that is a difficult list to maintain. Though his social media presence isn't huge, Mikasa keeps up with him.

And now she gets to kiss him.

He wears an outfit so casually suave, a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, the first couple buttons undone for an alluring effect. His shoulder-length hair is something you'd seen on a 1990s teen pop culture magazine, harkening to the age of 'effortless' hairstyles, so swooshy. Mikasa chooses Eren over a young Leonardo DiCaprio any day of the week without hesitation.

The lines nearly slip from Mikasa's memory. She's supposed to be flirty with Eren Jaeger; now, her tasks feels all the more insurmountable to live up to, the standards raised to their highest level.

As Eren approaches, he grins. Mikasa has to remind herself that it's the character he's smiling so pretty at, not her. Some fake girl. Not her.

The tragedy of that causes her to almost miss her first line, but she pulls it together. "You came?"

"Obviously," he replies, laughing, his palms immediately cupping her cheeks. Mikasa's glad the camera isn't focused on her face — which has turned a humiliating shade of red. "You didn't think I'd really leave you behind, did you?"

Mikasa swallows. What was the line? She exhales, as propositioned, smiling, mustering up as much desperation in her tone as she can. "I don't know." This young actress has never been this nervous. "You seemed like you were in a pretty big hurry."

Here comes the most swoonworthy dialogue, the part that'll send Mikasa into cardiac arrest. Eren, or whatever his character's name is, draws her closer, their noses rubbing together. The cameras are almost intrusive now — just like they've always been in her screen tests, her daunting auditions, the technology recording her failure.

At Eren's advancing touches, Mikasa recalls another direction from the script — touch him. She nervously rests her shaky fingers on his waist, clutching his shirt. Eren Jaeger's shirt. His smell is intoxicating this close, subtle but unbelievably attractive. Potent. He continues.

"No. Never. C'mon, El. Can't leave you. You know I can't leave you. Don't give a damn about all that."

Without context, Mikasa has no idea what all that even means, but it's irrelevant. Eren has his hands grasping her face, ready to confess his deepest feelings. She swallows hard, clearing her throat.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. You'll wanna leave again. I can't keep you here."

Her delivery has a shakier quality to it than a professional actress might have, but Mikasa's just proud of herself for not melting to a puddle.

Eren, formidable in his role, just as strong as he looks on the silver screen, pushes her back until they've stumbled into the stone railing behind them — a totally improved move that catches Mikasa off guard, her breath hitching.

Before she can process anything, his lips are latched onto hers, hungrily, his character so desperate to prove his affections to this El girl. He tastes just as good as he has in Mikasa's most shameful dreams, the ones where she gets to do exactly what she's doing now, standing tall as Eren's co-star, the recipient of all his perfectly-acted kisses across an excessive number of takes.

Happy to indulge in this fantasy, Mikasa loses herself in the scene, determined to live up to the expectations placed onto her. She clutches onto Eren, brave enough to engage her mouth, providing her own energy to the kiss. Good God. I'm kidding Eren Jaeger. This is all real.

"Not going anywhere," Eren mewls, too convincing in his 'acting', slipping into this character with so little effort. His hands find Mikasa's thighs, squeezing as she's hoisted into his strong arms, legs with no destination but to wrap around his waist. "I need you. I need you."

Mikasa can't contain herself. Her poor heart is close to giving out, and her stomach flips and clenches and every tumultuous sensation between. She forgets this is a movie, on a set, surrounded by strangers watching them kiss.

One more line. "Stay here. Stay with me, please."

"I will, you goddamn, gorgeous idiot. I'm here."

They kiss longer — so much longer — until the immersion is decimated by the director calling cut, leaving Mikasa in the unfortunate reality where Eren swiftly drops her down to her feet. Through the megaphone, the director praises them — before asserting that they would return for a second, precautionary take.

"Hey," Eren starts, his regular, out-of-character tone somehow so different from his voice during shooting. He's more relaxed. Mikasa's used to this voice from all the interviews she's seen.

"Hi." She keeps her eyes averted, too flustered to even dare looking at him after that. He's famous. She's a nobody, wannabe actress that's stuck working a part-time throwaway job. Still, her awkward smile seems to endear her to him.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry for surprising you like that. Felt like it might help the scene." He sounds pleased with himself for concocting the idea. "I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?"

As if he couldn't get anymore perfect. He's a massive sweetheart, too, not some prima donna.

"No— not at all. It was— it was clever."

"You think so? I worried it might be too much."

She's unsure how to reassure him of the move's success without exposing her gigantic crush.

"I think the women watching will be happy."

Eren laughs and it's sublimely charming. "Well, then I'm happy with it. You're all hard to please."

Behind her back, Mikasa fidgets with her fingers, cracking her knuckles like crazy — anything to relieve the what-is-happening-right-now energy coursing through her bloodstream and incapable of exiting any of her brain's fixated thinking.

"Ah, well— I doubt you could disappoint them."

Instantly, she wants to slam her palm so hard into her forehead that it sends her flying. He doesn't need another weirdo fangirl. I've seen the comments on his Instagram. There's enough of those already. If he's annoyed, Eren conceals that frustration with ease, accepting the vote of confidence with a gracious simper.

"Thanks." He exhales deeply, finding his place beside her against the railing. "Are you an actress? How'd you get wrapped up in all this?"

Calling herself an actress in Eren's presence seems rather reductive of his talent. Mikasa shrugs, biting the inside of her cheeks. "Sorta? Not really. I'm— I'm trying to be, at least."

Eren smiles. "Have I seen anything you've done?"

He's much easier to talk to than someone like Marilyn Lawrence. He's more— more human.

"If you watched Avalon Harbor, you might've caught me in the background for a second. I think it was at 36:20, if you feel like double checking."

Pathetic as it sounds, her jokes makes Eren snort, and Mikasa considers that a win. "You know what, I'll have to give it a rewatch sometime."

A different production assistant brings them bottles of water while they wait to reconvene. There's a painful silence between them — a silence that Mikasa wishes to fill with a million questions about his acting, his roles, his journey from child clothes model to big screen cash cow.

Somehow, though, he's equally interested in her.

"So, Ms. Avalon Harbor, you didn't really answer my question. Where'd they find you?"

Mikasa sighs. Now he'll really know I'm a loser.

"The coffee shop down the street. I work there."

He laughs again. "I— I didn't expect that one."

Just as she's about to attempt another joke, anything to hear his pretty laugh again, the director cuts their conversation short, summoning the cast and crew back into position.

"It was nice to chat with you— Wait, what's your name? Just realized I have no idea."

She swallows, lump building in her throat. You're about to be on a first name basis. "Mikasa."

"Eren," he replies, a formality more than anything. "Maybe we'll get to work together again one day."

Don't get your hopes up, she tells herself. "I'm happy to just be in the audience, really."

He smiles as he backpedals back to his starting position, and that smile lingers on Mikasa's brain all the way until the director calls action.

Returning to her barista job after the previous day's events is harder than she anticipates. Getting a taste of a real actresses' life didn't quench that dream — it only thickened her thirst to be on more movie sets, to experience the thrill of producing something from nothing, to turn a script into a visual manifestation for audiences.

Kissing Eren Jaeger played a big part, obviously.

It's hard to keep her mind off their scenes while cleaning the counter during a lull in customers. Her eyes fixate onto the speckles hidden into the quartz countertop, utterly lost in a daydream, replaying the kiss in her head just like she's rewatched some of Eren's movies on repeat.

A gentle voice cuts through her folly.

"What do you recommend? I can't decide."

Startled, Mikasa gets ready to issue so many apologies for being so ditzy, so inattentive. The last thing she needs is a customer complaint.

When she catches the man's eyes, she's even more startled to see Eren standing there.

"Oh! It's you, I— I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"No need to apologize. Did I scare you?"

Behind Eren, some customers look up from their coffees to gawk at him — the penalty that comes with achieving some stardom (and the unfortunate consequences of being blessed with unnaturally beautiful cheekbones).

Mikasa laughs, flustered. Her cheeks give away just how unprepared she is for this encounter.

"A little, yeah. Thought I was gonna get an earful."

"Nope. Just wanted to stop by and see you."

See me? It's too good to be true.

"Uh, you did?" Mikasa chides herself. This flirting isn't very good, considering that their tongues were practically wrapped together just yesterday.

Eren leans across the counter, gushing his voice to avoid any pesky eavesdropping.

"Sure did. You're a fun co-star. That's rare these days. Plus, you're a pretty good kisser, too."

Instantly, Mikasa's hand covers her face, the redness flushed across her features too much to bear — Eren Jaeger likes my kissing. Me.

Undisturbed by her inability to accept his compliments with any decorum, Eren continues, glancing quickly at the clock on the wall.

"Do you have a break coming up? I'm done for the day. Thought we could go for a walk. If you want."

It's starting to dawn on her how quickly her life has been rocketed off its predicted trajectory because of a resemblance to another actress.

Is he actually asking me out? She hasn't felt this giddy in— well, since his last movie came out.

"I'm off in ten minutes, actually. I'd— I'd love to."

"Great. Then it's settled. I'll take you on a tour."

A lackluster shift becomes the second-best she's ever worked, just trailing behind yesterday's. She smiles so brightly, hard enough to hurt her cheeks, straining the muscles that she usually saves for pretending to tolerate customers.

"Do you still want that recommendation? I can make something for you while you wait."

He grins, amused. "Oh no, I don't like coffee. Just needed something cute to get your attention."

Unwilling to let her get the last laugh, Eren sticks a bill into the tip jar and slinks off to one of the tables, smiling at her from hidden his hand.

Mikasa blushes.

He might be a good actor, but he's just as terrible at hiding a crush as I am.

— (Hope you enjoyed reading! It would be so fun to imagine how they'll spend their walk and how their little courtship would develop into a relationship 🩷 eremika wholesome moment was very fun to write after so much angst!)

#darlingkirstein asks #eremika #my writing #actor au

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stqrbxy · 1 year

Text

[ 中也 ] chuuya nakahara x m! reader .

genre : smut but not in-depth.

t.w : suggestive themes.

sypnosis : you and chuuya missed each other deeply, so what's better than buying an absurdly expensive bottle of wine to soften him up??

author's note : this is hella confusing and bad.

"c'mere; there's plenty of space in my lap." + ready for another round?"

chuuya and you were both head executives of the most mafia, as well as the most important ones, so it was no wonder that you both were busy, that two could barely see each other throughout the day even though you both worked in the same penthouse.

so, you were coming back home from work, and you were thinking about chuuya, he was probably on another mission or stuffed with paperwork. but, you managed to finish all of your work for the week, so now you have the weekend all to yourself. you sighed slightly and continued to walk forwards, tugging on your coat to refrain it from getting breezed away by the end.

while you were on your way back home, you saw a wine shop on the way. and, they were known to sell good wine. so, you decided, why not buy some good wine for your husband after a long day of work?

you paid for the expensive bottle of wine, specifically chosen for his tastes, and headed out to your original destination once again. you looked at the time on your watch and saw a lot of time had passed by, by the time you carefully picked out his preferred taste. realizing, you walked faster and soon arrived at your shared penthouse.

you twisted open the doorknob and were greeted by lapis-coloured eyes, which quickly made their way onto yours

"i'm home." you smiled sweetly at him, then locked the door and proceeded to put the wine in the fridge and sit beside him on the couch, taking off your boot's laces elegantly and slowly.

"welcome home, sweetheart. i've missed you," he murmured gently and wrapped his hand around your waist and the other on your thigh. needy and desperate for you, but decided to be polite and not touch you inappropriately.

"i've missed you a lot too. how has work been going? you came home earlier than me." you chuckled and attempted to move away from his touch, attempting to put away your shoes, oh, but, how could chuuya let you go just when he's got your hands on you and after so long as well?

"stop being so cruel, I haven't even held you for a moment, yet you already want to leave." he scoffed like a child and let go of you, trying to prove as if he wasn't needy for your touch a moment ago.

"don't worry, let me freshen up then you can have me for as long as you want, happy?" you smirked at him mischievously after you washed your face and put away your shoes, but your thigh-high socks were still on, unbeknownst to him as your oversized pants were covering them.

"fine. c'mere, there's plenty of space in my lap for you to sit." he grinned back, in the same mischievous manner and patted his thigh for you to sit on. you gladly moved onto his lap, teasingly rubbing your crotch on his thigh as you felt him getting harder.

"god, angel, I've missed you so fucking much. i missed your voice, your touch, your words and you." he needy groaned and nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

"missed too, chuu. ah, i've forgotten to tell you, I got you a bottle of 1964 Romanée-Conti. And, don't worry about where I got it from, let's say I have my sources." you smirked at him as he removed his head from your neck and looked at you with slightly widened eyes and a slight blush plastered over his face. 'How cute.' you thought to yourself.

"the hell? oh my god — thank you so much? what the fuck? how can I repay you?" he swooned over you. he was so grateful for someone like you, who'd buy him a wine worth three million fucking yen. that's half of your salary and two-thirds of his. but, it didn't matter to you, what the price may be. because, to you, he was worth more than ten bottles of expensive wine. the funny thing is, you always knew that gift-giving, was sure to touch his heart.

"you don't have to, but~ if you wish to, perhaps there's something that you can do." you ended it suggestively and shifted on his lap every moment or so, merely to rile him up.

"please, tell me." god, chuuya begging, just for you? you really should've seen his hands on your waist, desperate to touch you further.

you smirked at him merely, dragged him softly into the bedroom and threw him on the bed, making sure not to hurt him. he gasped softly and blushed even more, waiting for you to do or say something; you pushed him down on the bed with your hand on his chest.

"well then, do I have your consent to do anything i'd like to do to you tonight?~" you shot him another smirk before and looked deep into his lapis blue eye, waiting for a response.

"yes, yes — please, use me, anything you want, ruin me, god, I fuckin' need you so badly."

oh dear, you both were definitely in for a hell of a night.

so, you were coming back home from work, and you were thinking about chuuya. chuuya was probably on another mission or stuffed with paperwork. but, you managed to finish all of your work for the week, so now you have the weekend all to yourself. you sighed slightly and continued to walk forwards, tugging on your coat to refrain it from getting breezed away by the end.

while you were on your way back home, you saw a wine shop on the way. and, they were known to sell good wine. so, you decided, why not buy some good wine for your husband after a long day of work?

you paid for the expensive bottle of wine, specifically chosen for his tastes, and headed out to your original destination once again. you looked at the time on your watch and saw a lot of time passed by already. therefore, you walked faster and soon arrived.

you twisted open the door knob and were greeted by lapis-coloured eyes, which quickly made their way onto yours and then to the bag you were holding.

"i'm home." you smiled sweetly at him, then locked the door and proceeded to put the wine in the fridge and sit beside him on the couch, taking off your boot's laces elegantly and slowly.

"welcome home, sweetheart. i've missed you," he murmured gently and wrapped his hand around your waist and the other on your thigh. needy and desperate for you, but decided to be polite.

"i've missed you a lot too, how's work been going? you came home earlier than me." you chuckled and attempted to move away from his touch, attempting to put away your shoes, oh, but, how could chuuya let you go just when he's got your hands on you, after so long as well?

"stop being so cruel, I haven't even held you for a moment and you already want to leave." he scoffed, like a child and let go of you, trying to prove as if he wasn't needy for your touch a moment ago.

"don't worry, let me freshen up and you can have me for as long as you want, happy?" you smirked at him mischievously after you washed your face and put away your shoes, but your thigh-high socks were still on, unbeknownst to him as your oversized pants were covering them.

"god, angel, I've missed you so fucking much. i missed your voice, your touch, your words and you." he needy groaned and nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

"the hell? oh my god — thank you so much? what the fuck? how can I repay you?" he absolutely swooned over you. he was so grateful for someone like you, who'd buy him a wine worth three million fucking yen. that's literally half of your salary and two-thirds of his. but, it didn't matter to you, what the price may be. because, to you, he was worth more than ten bottles of expensive wine.

"you don't have to, but~ if you wish to, perhaps there's something that can be done." you ended it suggestively and shifted on his lap every moment or so, just to rile him up.

"please, tell me." god, chuuya begging, just for you? you should've seen his hands on your waist, desperate to touch you further.

you smirked at him merely and dragged him softly into the bedroom and threw him on the bed, making sure not to hurt him. he gasped softly and blushed even more, waiting for you to do or say something.

you pushed him down on the bed with your hand on his chest.

"well then, do I have your consent to do anything i'd like to do to you tonight?~" you shot him another smirk before and looked deep into his lapis blue eye, waiting for a response.

"yes, yes — please, use me, whatever, you want, ruin me, god, I fuckin' need you so badly."

oh boy, you both were definitely in for a kinky night.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x male reader #chuuya nakahara x male reader #bsd x male reader #chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya smut #chuuya fluff #writing prompts

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snow--berry · 5 months

Text

Random CoD headcanons

Characters: Roach, Horangi and König

Roach

Mute, ever since he was a child. Knows BSL for obvious reasons and is very willing to teach.

He's still trying to teach Soap, but it's not very successful. (Inspired by hurrraaid's falconry AU and Soap struggling to learn BSL there)

May or may not be autistic, I haven't decided yet, but he probably is.

Squish his face! Squish his face!

He goes by he/him and they/them.

Definitely has freckles.

Roach and Ghost grew up together, I don't make the rules. So like 90% of the CoD fandom, I'll blatantly ignore the canon.

He's a chaotic gremlin. He hides in the vents and you can't do anything about it.

Will steal your food at lunch.

Especially if you shit talk him or people he cares for.

Roach has stolen Ghost's food for fun a couple of times and given it to Soap.

He insults you in BSL when you piss him off and you probably will not know unless you're Ghost or Price. Or Gaz maybe.

If you know BSL he'll probably tease you, because he knows most people won't understand. And because this man just loves chaos. Especially if he's the cause of it.

He's the type of person to draw on your face if you're asleep early during a sleep over.

Roach isn't as short as most people think.

Stares.

I don't think he'd be as interested in football as Price, for example, is.

He's hard to get rid of, just like a real roach. Whether's he's being super loyal or making your life hell depends on what you may, or may not, have done.

Horangi

He bites. You will never be able to change my mind on this.

He's also attempted to bite König through the mask couple of times.

Also not as short as people usually make him out to be. Still shorter than Ghost though.

New recruits are dared to put a tiger-ear headband on his head to test their bravery.

He grew accustomed to it and usually tries to ignore it.

Definitly has ADHD.

And is a nightmare to be around when he's out of his meds.

Horangi comes off as really impatient. Idk why.

He struggled with learning English.

Acts like a cat, will push stuff off of tables just because he can.

I know what I said about him not being short, but if he was he'd totally climb cupboards and shelves if he had to to reach things.

Sassy as hell for no reason.

His face looks very squishable to me. He'd probably try to bite if I tried but it'd be worth a shot.

I feel like he'd kinda hate K-Pop because of some/most of the stereotypes that come with it.

Probably should not be allowed to drive.

Total cat person.

König

He's insecure about his accent.

In addition to being (canonly) socially anxious, I think he has autism as well.

I feel like he'd go non-verbal when he's overwhelmed or having a sensory overload.

He likes making German and Austrian dishes.

He doesn't handle spice very well and almost died (at least that's what he claims) when eating Korean food once and now refuses to eat it when Horangi offers.

He gets a bit upset when people confuse Austrians for Germans, mush them together or similar. Even if it's a common thing.

König has an accent while speaking German as well, because Germans and Austrians (can) sound very different from eachother. Especially in slang and general vocabulary.

I headcanon him with blonde, shoulder-length hair.

And a scarred face.

He also has a squishable face. All three of them do.

König has freckles as well, but only in summer and only a few.

Probably has eye bags.

Also stares, but by accident.

I think König gets flustered easily, for some reason.

That's all for now! Have a nice day/night! :)

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meabh-mcinness · 7 months

Note

Anon that requested runaway!SO Narnia prompt here, and my heart squeezed when I saw you put it in your list. Thank you so much!

Saw your post, and I love the idea for it to take place before the 13th Deviculum, it changes Narnia's vitriol towards Iruma so much.

I don't believe that he doesn't think that Iruma's fame (as the Misfits are apparently a household name and in papers) DIDN'T influence his lover leaving him in a bid for freedom! Maybe he noticed that she had been paying attention to whatever news they got of Iruma's antics, like him even attending his first Deviculum.

Makes his beef with Iruma personal, if Narnia even slightly blamed the poor bean's (seemingly intentional) tendency to stand out as what put ideas in her head when she was pretty content to stay before.

(Actually, my first idea about why the SO leapt to the nuclear option of vanishing and not talking it out, prompt happening after-deviculum, was because he knocked her up. And girl got SO scared for her child, since at that point he revealed that he still hated 'dirty humans' and it fed into her pre-existing insecurities about how he kept her secret from everyone he knew, why he never married her in any kind of demonic ritual, and fed her growing misassumption that she was basically a pet that he didn't think was acceptable for demonic society.

Culminating into a major freak out when the SO found out she was going to have a half-human baby.

Like, would he want to keep her child? Would they be raised to never know that their mother was human, with the belief that her heritage made them weak compared to full-blooded demon children? Would Narnia still keep her secret and introduce their child to society as without a mother, without her?

...most of her worries aren't quite true, as imo Narnia *wasn't* trying to treat her like a mistress/guilty secret wife, it was mostly his yandere tendencies and unrestrained demonic territorial possessiveness talking and getting irrationally jealous of possible competition, of anyone else taking up her attention.

Part of it is because Narnia doesn't have many trusted allies (friends) that weren't also co-workers (and thus can recognize a human) and wouldn't set his instincts off! And he got way too comfortable with their current lifestyle, since he was probably an intensely private demon in the first place.

Truly a misundestanding of tragic proportions. Were it Kalego in his position, he could at least be alright to introduce her to Balam, and Balam Shichiro could have gotten a human to eventually open up and communicate about their discontent and gotten things addressed. Alas, this isn't a Kalego story, though it might be interesting to have one where Kalego and the Sullivan household come together over their secret humans, hehe.

But Narnia's SO hasn't been in a good place mentally and emotionally, not for a long time, and worked herself into an irrational panic that culminated into a flight into the night decision.

Sorry, this took so long to get out! I hope I've lived up to your expectations! My beta tells me this made her tear up a bit so I'm hoping it has the same effect for everyone but enjoys it anyways.

The Price of Freedom - request (Yandere!Narnia x fem!reader)Ⓐ

Narnia keeps you trapped on the property to keep you safe from the rest of the Netherworld and while his intentions are good he's doing more harm than intended. After all, humans are social pack animals meant to be able to roam about wild and free. And while there are exceptions to every rule, you are not one of them. So when you see a chance to leave, you take it. Leaving your heart behind but gaining your freedom in the process.

Also, this is a two-parter! The first part is angst but I haven't decided if our little couple here will get a happy ending or not yet. Let me know your thoughts in the comments!

You took a deep breath, glancing over at the slumbering body holding yours. His long hair was fanned out behind him and his pale skin practically gleamed even in the darkness of the room. Soon enough, his alarm would go off, and those dark eyes would open blearily, and he'd grumble while trying to turn it off and pull you closer. Eventually, he'd give in, wake up more with a smile and a kiss for you and get ready for the day. It was a daily routine that had lasted for a few years now, and it was one you loved.

Your heart clenched at the fact that this would probably be the last morning it ever happened.

Your eyes travelled all the lines of his face, taking in every detail that you could, hoping to memorize them to the best of your ability. You had plenty of photos stored away, that you already knew you would take out over and over again until they faded with age and even afterwards, but no photo could ever beat seeing him in person. You were tempted to gently run your fingers over his cheeks and down his hair but knew he would wake up immediately, startled.

He was such a light sleeper due to the years of growing up under the Naberius household that you always tried hard to not make too much noise or movements so that he could sleep in when he could. And as this would be the last time you laid beside him, you wanted to enjoy this moment. To have time freeze over this peace, and not have the negative feelings swirling through your body running circles in your mind. To leave this all behind no matter how much you loved it because you couldn't stay caged in any longer.

But you couldn't. As a human, you held no magic beyond what the power of runes and already magic-infused items could give you, much less the amount of power needed to freeze time itself. So instead, here you lay, trying to absorb as much as possible because the moment that he leaves property lines, you would be getting to work. You had even purposefully made a bit of a mess last night and promptly shoved the both of you to bed so that you would have an excuse on why you were moving things about if he came back early for whatever reason.

You could only hope he didn't come home early.

Today had been forecasted to be nice and sunny until the afternoon rolled around with thunderstorms. If you timed it right, you'd be able to pack everything up, leave and make it to town right before the storms hit, with several hours to spare for the rain to wash away your trail. Otherwise, if the rain came early you would be stuck here until the next time such an opportunity presented itself, and who knew when that would be? More than likely you would have gone stir-crazy before that happened, and who knew what kind of damage you would do when that happened?

Not that this idea was much better. Had this been a more ordinary relationship, you would have easily just talked out the fact you had wanderlust and gone out to visit new places. Instead, as much as you loved Narnia, you could admit he was a bit paranoid and even straight-up territorial about your standing in this world. Always going on about the dangers of this world and wanting to keep you here in this safe bubble of a home he had made for the two of you.

Not that it was without reason. The Netherworld was indeed a harsh place and there were so many dangers just out your front door, much less the rest of this big bad world. And yet the human world was not without its dangers as well, and while you knew many threats had magic which left you at quite the disadvantage, you could at least protect yourself semi-well. Narnia had seen to that with what started as daily training sessions, which slowly moved to once every few days then to a few times a month as you proved more proficient, and he gained harder and harder cases to solve.

At first, you hadn't thought much of it. Even in the human world, it was quite often that schedules could get packed. You would have been fine with it if you had something to do other than roam this tiny amount of land. Instead, you were trapped here like a prized pet in a cage, forever waiting for your precious master to return. You couldn't live like that. Not anymore at least.

Suddenly your thoughts were broken by the sharp tones of his alarm. You couldn't help the startled movement you made, having not fully expected it to go off so soon. This in turn startled Narnia awake. His eyes snapped open and immediately focused on you before swiping the room for any danger.

You gave him a sheepish smile, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

Narnia brushed off your apology with a casual wave of his hand and leaned in to give you a soft, lingering kiss. A large pale hand caresses your face and sweeps into your hairline to pull you in closer. It was a sweet morning ritual, one that you cherished. He tasted like roses and dark chocolate with a hint of mint, a flavour unique to him. His lips were warm and inviting, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to forget the impending departure.

Breaking the kiss, Narnia slipped out of bed, his movements fluid and graceful. He grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and headed for the bathroom. You watched him as he moved, his silhouette bathed in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains.

He began his usual morning routine, the sounds of running water and the clinking of toiletries filling the air. You couldn't help but smile as you listened. It was the ordinary moments like these that you would miss the most.

While he showered, you took the opportunity to slip out of bed and start preparing for the day ahead. You retrieved a backpack from the closet and began packing it with essential items: clothes, food, a first aid kit, and a map of the Netherworld. You knew you'd have to travel light, but you wanted to be as prepared as possible for whatever lay ahead.

As you worked, you couldn't help but glance over towards where Narnia in the bathroom would be. You could hear him humming a tune over the splashing of water, likely with a contented expression on his face as he went about his routine. It was moments like these that made leaving even harder.

But you couldn't stay. Your longing for adventure, for freedom, had grown too strong to ignore. And so, you continued to pack, determined to make the most of the time you had left with him. After packing the essentials in your backpack, you carefully zipped it up and placed it under the bed, hidden from plain view. You couldn't risk Narnia stumbling upon it and asking questions before you were ready to explain your decision.

With that task completed, you moved on to the next item on your agenda: breakfast. You headed to the kitchen, quietly so as not to disturb Narnia in the bathroom. You had learned to navigate this small cottage with a gentle touch, ensuring that your movements were subtle and silent. In the kitchen, you gathered the ingredients for a simple breakfast - eggs, toast, and a few vegetables. As you cracked the eggs into a bowl and started whisking them, the aroma of cooking filled the air, a comforting and familiar scent that made your heart ache with nostalgia.

By the time Narnia emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, you had already set the table for two. He gave you a warm smile as he approached, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Smells delicious," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

You returned his smile and turned to face him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Just a little something to start your day off right," you replied, trying to sound as normal as possible despite the turmoil in your heart. Together, you shared a quiet breakfast at the cozy table, the two of you lost in your thoughts. Narnia talked about his plans for the day, the cases he needed to solve, and the colleagues he'd be meeting with. You listened attentively, offering words of encouragement and support.

As the time for Narnia to leave for work approached, you couldn't help but feel the weight of impending separation bearing down on you. You walked him to the door, his hand in yours, and shared a lingering kiss before he stepped outside.

He gave you a weird look, seemingly studying you, causing you to pause and tilt your head at him in response with the most curious look you could muster, before he shook his head and went back to making sure he had his things for work. You felt your body relax at passing whatever test that had been. You could thank the fact that years of wearing a mask in the human world also helped you here, even if you didn't much like why you were using it now.

You gave him a smile and leaned up on your toes to give him a kiss. 'Your last kiss' your mind supplied. What a shame you had to pass it off as your regular see-you-later rather than pour everything you had into it like you wanted to. But that would be suspicious, and he would want to stay longer or it might make him think you were in the mood and stay for a completely different reason. As much as you wanted the touch of his body one more time, you couldn't have it. Not without messing up your carefully laid out plan.

"Have a good day at work!" You chirped at him before waving him off with a laugh as he grumbled under his breath about how no day at work without you was a good day. You leaned against the door frame as you admired the large leathery wings that suddenly burst from his back, the appendages giving a few small flutters to stretch themselves out before he took off into the dawning sky with another wave at you.

You gave him another small wave in return and watched until you could no longer see him on the horizon. Even then you gave it a few seconds to see if he happened to turn around. It wouldn't be the first time he'd purposely forgotten something so that he could come back and spend a few more moments with you. Once those few seconds passed you deemed it safe to carry on with your plan. With Narnia gone for the day, you had a limited window of opportunity to execute your plan. You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear as you prepared to embark on the journey that would take you far away from the life you had known, and into the unknown.

You only had a few hours to tear this place apart, grab everything you could, put it back together again and be on your way to a new life. It wouldn't be easy as you first went back into the bedroom and stripped the bed of everything. Throwing the sheets into the laundry and tossing your personal pillows aside to be packed later. Next, as the blankets washed, you scoured the walls and frames for every photo of you that you could find. There was an almost surprising amount of them, considering both your and Narnia's aversion to photos, but you supposed that anyone would want to have captured moments when they were in a relationship.

Had this been a normal relationship perhaps you would be packing everything up for a completely different reason. Perhaps moving into a bigger home than this little one-bedroom cottage, or even moving things aside until renovations were done to expand this one. However, this wasn't a normal relationship, and you couldn't entertain the idea of it ever being so any longer.

With every delicate movement, you took great care to erase any trace of your existence from the cottage. You gathered any personal belongings that tied you to this place, from clothing to small trinkets, and stowed them away in your backpacks, making sure not to leave behind a single item that might raise suspicion. The cottage itself bore no signs of your occupancy; the walls were stripped of photos, the bedroom was bare other than his belongings, and even the living room was devoid of any of your personal touches.

You took a deep breath as you stood in the now almost empty cottage, a sense of finality washing over you. It really was as if you had never lived there at all. With one last glance around, you knew it was time to leave. Gathering up your bags you took a deep breath as you took in the boundary line from where the property ended and the next one began. You knew from several small tests that there were no wards that would alert Narnia to your leaving. A serious oversight on his part that you were happily taking advantage of. As you stared at the line you couldn't help but think of Samwise from Lord of the Rings and couldn't but wonder if this is how it felt for him to leave his home behind for a big adventure.

Heart pounding and veins singing you made the first step across, then another and another until you laughed at the fluttering of pleasure that coursed through you. The imaginary shackles that had bound were falling free as you walked determinedly onward towards your new life. You wanted to stop and observe every plant and animal you came across, but you had a long way to go still and you could already smell the rain on the horizon.

Yet, deep within you, a tiny spark of hope flickered, for you were on the path to a new beginning, and the possibilities of the unknown stretched out before you like an open book, waiting to be written.

________

Narnia landed more harshly than he meant to in his attempt to get inside from the torrential downpour quicker. Mud splattered as high as his thighs from his hard crouched landing before he straightened up again to move towards the door. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so anxious to get home, but something in his veins told him that something was wrong. He hadn't gotten this far in life by entirely ignoring his instincts, and yet he couldn't think of anything that could be wrong.

Well. Besides the way you had been acting lately that was.

He wasn't blind, he had known there was something off with you. You had been steadily getting more and more twitchy, almost like a caged beast in too small of a kennel. Perhaps you were entering some kind of new phase? Like when birds moulted old feathers to make new ones, perhaps you were going through something similar but a more human body version? Your skin had peeled several times over the years, so perhaps a more involved version appeared when you hit a new phase. Such a thing would certainly make him twitchy.

As he came closer to the door, forcefully coming out of his thoughts, he realized that all the lights were off. This wasn't too unusual. You had a habit of occasionally going to bed early or watching TV late and purposefully leaving the lights off for a better ambience. But after the weird way you acted this morning and the feeling he had all day, it just made him feel more anxious.

Wrenching the door open, he quickly stalked into the living room, shaking his head much like a dog to get the excess water off his hair before tilting his head to the side. He listened carefully for either the low sounds of music or the TV or even just your steady breathing.

Nothing. It was absolutely silent. Heart pounding, he raced through all the rooms, praying that he would find you simply dozing off and would berate him for waking you. You would laugh before comforting him over his silly anxiety, and everything would be perfectly fine.

Only it wasn't. As he swung the last door open into your shared bedroom, water still trailing behind him, it hit him that you really weren't here. As his eyes swept over every inch, he finally registered none of you was here. The photos on the walls were missing, and your half of the closet was empty. Hell, even your pillows were gone, the bed freshly laundered and remade to look like only one person slept in it.

With this sudden realization, he tore back through the house carefully to confirm what he already knew. Everything you owned, every craft you had made, every book he had bought you, was gone.

You were gone.

If it wasn't for the faintest scent of you still trapped in the furniture, it would have been as if you had never even existed. As if you hadn't spent literal years together here in this home, cuddling on the couch or playing board games on the table. As if you had never had mini cooking wars in the kitchen that usually ended with you both laughing and kissing the food off one another or in the large tub relaxing as the warm herb-infused waters soaked into your muscles.

Had someone taken you? Had someone noticed your existence and decided they wanted you for themselves? Taken you against your will and made it look like you didn't exist so that he couldn't go to anyone for help without looking crazy? Or perhaps, since such a thorough job was done, had Border Patrol swept in without his knowledge? Purposefully kept him out of the loop with an important enough job to ensure he couldn't stop them.

But no, Henri would have kept him from leaving and questioned him regardless. Always playing by the rules, Henri did, and that left him, for the most part, predictable. So not Border Patrol then. But who else? Perhaps Baal? He hadn't been as subtle as he could have been in trying to figure out if Narnia was willing to return to origins. Had he discovered you when trying to stake Narnia out and gotten rid of you?

At the thought, a feral growl ripped out of Narnia, and he ran out of the house and back into the rain in the hopes of catching some kind of trail. With it raining as hard and long as it had, all scents and tracks would be long gone, so the only thing he had left was to feel out any foreign magic that would have been used and try to track that. And yet, no matter how hard he tried or how much power he threw into his wards, he couldn't find any recent detection of foreign magic. None at all. Even the local mail demon flying in would have left something to follow.

It was almost as if...but no, that was impossible. There was absolutely no way you would have left on your own. You knew the dangers and never strayed further than a couple of yards from the walls of your home. Even then you didn't usually go further than your flower beds, or food gardens in the back. With a snarl, Narnia turned back and raced back through the house more closely, determined to find even the smallest clue.

As Narnia's desperate search through the house came to an agonizing conclusion, he stood in your shared bedroom, drenched in rainwater, his chest heaving with anxiety and disbelief. Your absence was undeniable, and the once-familiar space now felt alien and hollow. His racing thoughts continued to churn with questions and fears, each one more unsettling than the last. The eerie silence in the house seemed to mock his growing panic.

Unable to accept the possibility of your disappearance, he clutched at straws, desperately searching for any sign of your presence. He scanned the room, running his fingers over the empty hangers in the closet and the vacant space on your side of the bed. The absence of your cherished belongings was a stark reminder of your absence.

With trembling hands, Narnia stumbled upon something that sent a shiver down his spine. A faint but lingering scent of you still clung to the furniture, a trace of the life you had shared together in this very room. It was both a cruel reminder of what had been and a glimmer of hope that you hadn't vanished entirely.

His heart ached as he clung to that scent, unwilling to let go of the memories and the love that had defined their life together. But as the minutes passed, reality continued to gnaw at him, and he realized he needed answers, no matter how painful they might be. Turning away from the room that had once been filled with your presence, Narnia retraced his steps, still soaked from the rain. His determination to find you grew stronger with every passing moment. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, not without knowing the truth.

Tripping in his haste he fell to his knees next to the coffee table in the living room. With shaking limbs, he started to force himself to get up when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Laying innocently on the ground, a folded-up piece of parchment, his name written in your distinctive shaky handwriting. You never did get the hang of writing the demonic characters simply because you couldn't practice properly with the spell forcing you to see the letters in your own language but writing in his.

His emotions churned as he approached the letter, a fragile piece of paper that held the key to your mysterious departure. With trembling hands, he unfolded it and began to read. The words on the page weighed heavily on his heart, each sentence cutting deeper into his soul.

His hands trembled as his eyes scanned the letter quickly, hoping for some clue about where you were, only to grow more despondent the further he read. A pained howl tore from him as he took in what exactly your letter had meant, and he hadn't even realized he had started crying until the letters started bleeding together from his tears. With a choked gasp, he immediately wiped the tears away and tried to fan the letter dry again.

This letter was the only thing he had left from you besides the flowers you had planted outside. He had to take perfect care of it all. Had to keep it well until he could find you again. Because he would find you, no matter what it took. If you wanted the freedom to explore, then you could have it, just as long as you came back home-- back to him. His voice quivered with whimpers as he clutched the letter tightly to his chest, his heart aching with love and longing for the one who had vanished from his life.

To My Beloved Narnia,

As I sit here writing this letter, I can only think of all the moments we've shared together.

From our first meeting to our last embrace this morning, our courtship has been

nothing but a source of joy in my life. Sometimes, though, love isn't enough to make

something work. And I've come to the painful decision that we need to separate, at

least for a while. I will always cherish the moments and memories we shared and I am

sorry for the pain that this may cause you, but I can no longer do this. Humans are

not meant to be caged, no matter how nice that cage is. I need to be free, to be able

to go out and about, meet others, and explore this world, even if it's at the cost

of losing you. I'm truly sorry it came to this, and I will love you always.

Forever Yours

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