Latest Posts by txkha - Page 2

— [ 𝐑𝐄𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 .ᐟ ]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: g5 luffy × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 1717 wc, spoilers for wano... kinda? sfw, fluff, all fluff. a lil' goofy, plot is kinda w a c k y, kaido almost kills you but not in the way you think — and i can't he just looks so silly 'n lovely. i wanna hug him so bad 'n swing him around like a whip. look at him, LOOK. and dripping divider by @ benkeibear !! 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: as the fight continues, you can't help but worry for luffy. you decide to reach him... and you realize it was stupid of you to think he'd be in trouble.

"Luffy!"

Specks of dust littered everywhere. Debris replaced what were once massive boulders, crumbling beneath the force of one of the Emperors of the Sea and the man who would one day become the King of Pirates; your captain.

Your eyes widened at just how battered the top of Onigashima was. You shouldn't expect any less from them, but it still baffled you. They were so unbelievably strong. So strong you couldn't help but be worried.

You believed in Luffy, of course, you did. But when fighting such monsters... even he could have a hard time. So you made it your job to reach the top floor and get to him, the same medicine Zoro was infused with resting in your hands (you stole it) — it was no easy task and probably the dumbest thing you could ever think of, but somehow, you managed to do it. Surprise overtook you before as guards were taken out by a surge of haki coming from above; one that managed to shake you too. It was tremendous. You felt a little light-headed from it, but thankfully you handled it well.

As tremendous as it was, you could tell who it was from. It wasn't from Kaido, no. Some of the shockwaves you felt before had violence, brutality, and bloodthirsty intent oozing from them. This one, however, was very different; almost... warm.

Then, you reached the top. And here you are.

Other than the landscape, the air around you was rather chilly. Distinct from inside, another dimension altogether. Too cold, somehow refreshing. A shudder traveled down your spine, goosebumps all over your skin. The moon above was lustrous, the sky limpid and not as bleak as before. You felt at peace.

Which was weird considering...

"OOOOH!"

There was a dragon coming right towards you.

"... H—huh?"

Jaw slackened, eyes widening — your expression morphed from concerned to straight-up comical in less than a second. There was Kaido, in all of his glory, flying in your direction at probably a thousand kilometres per second and you remained still, not even running because whether you did sprint away from him or not the outcome was still the same. Death.

That one time you do something dumb you regret it. How could you possibly dodge that gargantuan lizard? You were an ant compared to him — wait, were you dreaming or he looked as shocked as you? — you were done for.

"AAAAAAAH!!"

Screams tore from both of your lungs in unison. Then, the ground beneath you turned... malleable, making you lose your balance and fall — the long blue dragon right above you crashing in a nearby pillar, pebbles and rocks scattering like fireworks. You, on the other hand, were sent in the air thanks to the elastic pavement.

Boing, boing, boing.

Perhaps luck was on your side... strangely enough. The floor felt oddly comfortable; soft yet stiff, the texture not at all feeling like dirt and rocks. Groaning, you pushed yourself up, shaking your pulsing head, the ache faintly going away.

"Heeeeey!"

Then, a call; one that made you snap your neck with how swiftly you looked up. Not just a sound. It's him.

Your pupils dilated at the sight — he was so... different. And yet, it was still him.

"Oh? Oooh? Is that you? It's you! It's you!"

How sweet his voice,

"It's youu~ it, is, you!"

how warm his presence,

"Look at me, look at me! Heeeey! Look at me!"

how lovely he himself.

"Ah..."

"Shishishi! You're looking!"

Your heart might've stopped at that moment. Did he know? He seemed to know. Grinning, laughing, ah, he's coming closer and closer. Luffy, Luffy...

The little mantra in your head replayed in your mouth, his name slipping out unconsciously — the corners of his lips curving up; broad, glowing, and so so familiar, so comforting. His hair seemed velvetlike to the touch... Perhaps it resembled rubber? No, marshmallows. He was a big marshmallow right now. Was he even real?

"Yeah! That's me! It's me!" twirling, bouncing, flailing around; he did not stop at all. Oh, no, he didn't — not until he saw you laugh. Not until he heard that precious sound. He had to do it now that you were here. You were worried, weren't you? He could tell. That slight inclination of your brows — He had to ease you!

There was nothing to worry about.

... If only he knew you were just analysing him with extreme concentration.

"See? See?"

He spread wider and wider, his arms suddenly changing course and going straight towards you — at the speed of light. He's so, so energetic for no reason. But he always was, wasn't he? And you've always loved it.

"Luffy..."

You wanted to ask what happened to him. How he felt, how he was, what he was, what was going on. But nothing left your lips, other than a breathless, inaudible mumble of his name. It made him laugh, and with that same buoyant tone, he shouted yours. You could not help but melt further.

"Yeah! It's me, it's me!"

It's him. Luffy. The tottery wobble of your knees quickly became a full-on quake, you couldn't move, you just couldn't. He seemed to — no, he knew. Your brief struggle, your sudden hypnosis.

At that moment, something, in the back of his mind, called to him,

"Come to me. Please come to me."

And it oddly resembled your voice. It came from his heart. Instinct, perhaps — plain as that. Who was he to not follow it, he who always did? It was alright. You didn't have to move at all. He'll come to you.

"I'm coming there! I'm right there!"

His hands finally grasped your shoulders after he yelled. So precious, so... silly. Yes, it's him. He hurled himself like a rocket, just to briskly stop right before you, his face now smashed against yours. His appearance was so different... so adorable. He will always, and inevitably, be him,

"Luffy."

"Shishishi! Hey! Hello!"

Not even Heaven could compare to him. Nothing could compare to him.

The biggest grin on the planet — his cheeks, faintly pink and so warm under your palms, were crinkled as he showed all the rows of his teeth. Dazzling, rotund vermilion eyes met yours, twinkling moreso at the sight of you. You looked so pretty right now. Did you know? He always thought you looked pretty. But you had something different now, something he couldn't describe with words. Though his tongue wouldn't collaborate, he could tell it was positive. You... you're—

"You look weird!" ironic how he spurted out those words when he's the one that metamorphosed. Even his clothes... once a vibrant red, now a blinding white.

"Ah... it's just — you're..."

"Me?"

Luffy tilted his head, his grin remaining. "You're wonderful, lovely, ethereal," is what you wanted to say if only your voice hadn't failed you, stuck in your throat, struggling to be liberated. A few moments passed, your mouth agape and your captain happily waiting. Then,

"You're..." something came out, "so, so...  beautiful, Luffy. I can't... you know?"

Ah, there it is.

See, he knew! And so, he laughed. And laughed, and laughed, and laughed; boisterous, contagious laughter that never, ever ends, the one you could hear every time you were down, for he would always bolt there where you sat, no matter what. A constant reminder that you were never alone. He will always be with you.

"Hehehe. I do!" chuckles and giggles seeped from his sentences, rending them clipped and broken. So warm, so warm — your chest mimicked his soon enough, sweet laughter bubbling from your throat too, lighting him up. If a fire was in his heart, now there was a whole festival. Your voice was so, so..! You know?

"You, pff, you do?"

"Yeah! Hahaha, I do! I do!"

If anyone were to see you both, they'd probably think you were out of your minds. You could picture it, your friends scolding you both, just to laugh after too. It was, so normal, so simple, yet it made you smile even more, and that caused him to do so too.

And then, then, he couldn't help himself; please forgive him, okay? He really couldn't help it! Those limbs that stretched so far to grab you, were now enveloping you both like a cute little present — hehe, a cute little present! — getting tighter and tighter, but not too much, just perfectly. Torso heaving up and down, his curious, rough yet tender hands coming to rest on your cheeks, his chortles fortissimo as he poked, pressed, squished them; nimble fingers pinching and pulling the skin, making you giggle even more. It did nothing to ease the heat within you, oh no it didn't. There was only more. More, more and more.

Was he greedy? (He was,) Look at you — you were so happy! You're enjoying it! You're laughing! He wanted to see you happy, always. The crew, his friends, you, you...

Maybe he was a little greedy (so greedy.) But for you, he'd gladly be.

"Oh, Lulu... Luffy!"

"Yeah!! Yes! Heheeheh!"

You both managed to pepper each other with some kisses — his giggles so cute and mellow — before the reality of the situation struck you both. The enemy's sluggish roar rang in both of your ears,

"Oi, Strawhat! What the hell are you doing, getting all kissy-kissy with your partner? I thought we were fighting!"

Right. Your captain was supposed to free this country. You both forgot.

"Oh, right! Kaido!" he perked up, untangling himself from you and shifting his attention to the enormous blue reptile, "Sorry, I got distracted. It'll take no time, just watch!" he tenaciously said, though a noticeable pout was on your lover's face.

"Y—yes, Lu... Go kick his ass." you muttered dreamily, a dumb dopey grin on your face, as you watched your boyfriend building a weird-looking cage with the floor to "protect" you before goofily walking up to Kaido, bouncing around in a frenzy like a spring.

All that was left was the show. And boy... did you have fun watching him beat that overgrown reptile up — your cackles fuelling the Warrior of Liberation. Soon, he'll hear the others, too. Soon, everyone's laughter will echo in this land, free from torment. He'll have a big, delicious banquet with you...

And all will certainly rejoice.

frank “mattress boyfriend” castle

♡ note: mayhaps i will write a drabble about matt “weighted blanket bf” murdock

♡ pairing: frank castle x gn reader

♡ word count: .6k

♡ tags: fluff, frank calls reader “sweetheart”

“You’re s’comfy,” you slur, words steeped in sleepiness as you rub your cheek against Frank’s bare chest, not dissimilar to a cat. “Warm too.”

A gravelly sound forms in Frank’s throat, gently rumbling through you. The corner of his lips quirks up into a small smile, terribly soft around the edges, when you lift your head and glare at him. It’s hard to find you intimidating or to take you very seriously when your glare melts into a more pouty expression.

“Are you laughing at me?”

Keep reading

Love Language

➪the one where you’re all clay needs to keep himself calm before surgery (and after).

Warnings: sam does not exist here (sorry not sorry f that b), mentions of surgery, surgery topics, hospital themes, anxiety, clay's surgery is successful and his mother is still alive, heart transplants (you saw the movie, you know how it goes), heavy topics, 'what is the healing process of a heart transplant' was definitely googled more than once while writing this.

Word Count: 2.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

The sun peered into the room through the thin, white curtains - the same ones Clay has begged you to let him replace more than once now. It heated the room to the perfect temperature, not too cold while also not making you break out into a sweat. 

Lying fast asleep beside you was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His face was pressed to the pillow, his arms lifted and hidden under said pillow as he often fell asleep on his stomach, the front of his body pressed to the mattress. 

You reach over and gently trace your index finger over the various freckles that scattered his back before laying your palm flat against his skin, the faint beat of his heart bringing you a sense of comfort you never knew you needed. 

The glow of the sun made his skin look golden, his face relaxed and his hair messy from moving in his sleep. 

In other words, he was just perfect. 

You lift your body, your elbow digging into the bed as you hold yourself up. Unable to stop your wandering lips, you lean over and press a kiss to his bicep, and another to his shoulder blade.

Though your touch was feather light, it still woke him up as though his body couldn’t help but react whenever you showed him any type of affection. His eyes opened in a squint due to the light that invaded the room, the corner of his lips turning upwards in a boyish grin. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you murmur back, trailing your hand further up his back before tangling it in his light hair. 

He gives you a look that has your heart swelling before he lifts his head just to bury his face back in the pillow. You grin at his shyness, a personality trait you would’ve never imagined he had. With billions behind his name, a successful mother, a future set in stone, and a whole city that belonged to him; you expected him to be arrogant, spoiled, ruthless, even.  

But no, he was none of those things. 

He was kind, had the persona of an angel, something that prompted you to give him the nickname, your angel. He had a smile that could make any okay day an amazing one, the charm to sweep anyone off their feet, and a heart as big and sweet as anything in the entire world. Even though his heart was fragile and could betray him at any given moment, he still didn’t let that change his view on the world, the beautiful thing it was. 

To put it simply; Clay Beresford was the embodiment of everything good in the world, a light so bright that he had no idea just how much he lit up the darkest corners of damn near everyone he’s ever met, a man so perfect you found yourself believing you were stuck in a dream every time you woke up next to him. 

Massaging your fingers into his scalp, you fill with a sense of happiness at the content sigh that escapes him, silent in sound but evident in the way his shoulders raised and dropped slowly. 

You move closer to him, brushing your nose against his arm. “Why are you hiding from me?” You ask quietly, your hand flattening out his messy hair. 

He lifted his head just enough for him to be able to murmur, “I’m not hiding from you, baby,” the corners of his lips turned upwards as he continued, “Just from your awful excuse of a curtain.”

You gasp, taking your hand away from his head to give his shoulder a gentle push. “Hate them all you want,” you shrug, meeting his eyes when he turned his head to look at you. “I’m still not letting you buy me new ones.”

Clay laughed quietly, shifting so he was now on his back. His right hand came up to grab your left one, his eyes fixated on the large diamond that found home on your finger. 

With your free hand, you reach over and gently press it against his shoulder, your fingers firmly poking against the few small knots you felt. “What are you thinking about?” You nearly whisper, afraid as though you would ruin the peaceful atmosphere if you were to talk at your usual pitch. 

His blue eyes met yours once again. “You,” he simply answered and you felt a heat rush to your face. Keeping your hand locked in his, you lean down and press your lips to his mouth, an innocent kiss that grew heated when his left hand grabbed your hip and pulled your body on top of his. 

Your upper body was covered by his white dress shirt he wore to the dinner party last night, the shirt being the first thing you grabbed once you woke up this morning, while your lower half was covered by a thin black lace.

Clay has told you many times now that he loves the way you look in his clothes and it brings out a possessive side he never knew he had. You were just so beautiful, and you looked past his family drama and his heart problem and chose him. 

There weren’t words that are strong enough to describe his love for you or how much he adored you. You were one of the few things in his life that felt normal and right, and it was no surprise that he couldn’t hold back on asking you to be his forever just eight months into the relationship. 

You started out as his mom’s assistant. Lilith was a sweetheart right at the start, showing you around her massive house with the patience of a new teacher, smiling at you and encouraging any questions you might have had. 

You remembered exiting the kitchen and entering the front hall just as Clay returned home, his eyes tired and his form slouched. It was almost comical how quickly he straightened up and how wide his eyes opened. Lilith’s dismissal of his sudden appearance was one you’ll never forget. “Oh, that’s Clay, my son. Don’t worry, you won’t see much of him,”

How wrong she was.

From that day on, Clay did any and everything he could to see you, even for just a split second. He’d prolong quick conversations, give you a long answer instead of a short one to any question you had, and was always there to greet you when you arrived in the mornings. 

You were kidding yourself when you made a promise that you wouldn’t fall for him. You fell for Clay hard and fast, and it seemed as though he fell for you just as bad. When you became official, you quit being Lilith’s assistant as you felt weird about it and didn’t want your source of income to be from his mom.

No matter how much money the Beresford name had, you still felt cheap whenever Clay or his mother offered to pay for something. You knew it wouldn’t faze them, and you appreciate their kindness, but you refused each and every time. 

“You do realize that you’re entitled to my money once we’re married, right?” He’d ask you every time you refused to let him pay for you.

You always respond with, “Yeah, well, we’ll figure that out when we get there,”

His hands slide up your back when you break away from his mouth and begin placing kisses along his jaw. You move onto his neck and shoulders before moving further down and stopping right above where his heart was beating in his chest. 

A small bit of sadness filled you as your mouth hovered over that place, your hands pressing into the sheets on either side of his body. Clay noticed this, but before he could ask you what was wrong, you leaned down and placed a kiss to the skin of his chest, just over where his heart is. 

He held back a shiver as you placed another kiss and then another, your eyes closing when you felt his hands reach up to caress the sides of your face. Butterflies are set loose all over his body as you kiss him with a feather light touch, acting as if you’d break him if you were to be even the smallest bit rougher with him. 

“Hey,” he quietly said, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that fell from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking your head, you rest it against his chest, the faint beating against your cheek making you smile slightly. “I just love you,” it was hardly audible, but he heard you as clear as day. “So much.”

“Baby,” he says quietly, brushing your hair away from your face as he tries to get you to meet his eye. “Now it’s your turn to tell me what you’re thinking about.”

You wipe away your tears and clear your throat. “It’s nothing,” you answer, looking up at him and caving at the look he gives you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you crawl over his body and move to lay on your side next to him. Your fingers trace over the skin you had just kissed while his rubbed soothing circles onto your shoulder. “I was just thinking about how much I will love your new heart, maybe even more than I love your current one.”

Clay grinned down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “There’s no doubt in my mind that my new heart will love you just as much as the old one does now,” he says quietly before adding, “Thank you for never giving up on me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

-

Clay spent a week in the hospital, his pager going off a few hours after you and him got out of bed after your heart to heart talk. 

His surgery was a success, his body taking the new organ with no problems at all and rendering him a new man.

You were by his side throughout the whole process, your own heart beating rapidly during the five hours he was under. The sense of relief you felt when his doctor came to the waiting room to inform you and Lilith that it was a success was indescribable. 

He woke up an hour or so after the surgery, and a couple more later you were finally allowed to briefly visit him. You instantly started crying, which caused him to cry as well, still a bit drowsy and high off the medication. 

Despite the doctor’s request of not getting too close to him, you couldn’t help but press multiple kisses to his face, working carefully around the ventilator, before settling on holding his hand as gently as you could. He looked so tired and weak and worn out, making your heart break the smallest bit as you thought about the long road to recovery he had ahead of him. 

Now, four weeks into his recovery process, he was doing well. He would have multiple pain sessions everyday where his chest would ache beyond anything he could ever describe. During those moments he would tightly hold your hand or wrap his arms around your middle while pressing his body to yours until the pain subsided and the quiet groans faded. 

You grew closer than ever. You had taken an LOA from your job at the small café downtown to take care of him, looking after his every need with no hesitation. He was in bed for the most part, only getting up to walk the short distance to the bathroom attached to the bedroom or up and down the hallway outside the room to keep him somewhat active. Even then you were no more than a few feet away from him, a nervous look on your face and a crease in your brow

Secretly, the days you spent with him in bed was your favorite way to pass the time. Like right now, your chin resting gently on his shoulder while your index finger lightly ran up and down the scar on his chest. The bandage and stitches had long since been removed and all that was left was a long line from the start of his chest down to just above his lower abdomen. 

Today was a good day as he hadn’t felt a single ounce of pain yet, his arm wrapped around you and his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bicep. His half lidded eyes stared at the ceiling, the only sounds filling the room being your breathing and the low hum of the air conditioning. 

Breaking the silence, you keep your voice quiet as you ask, “How are you feeling today?”

Your head lifted slightly with every breath he took, his shoulder rising with every inhale. Just being able to feel him breathe made you fill with a sense of happiness, the stress of the whole thing fading away with every day that passed. “Good,” he answered, his lips turning upwards when he added, “Better than ever.”

You close your eyes at that, exhaling quietly. “Good,” your hand moves from his scar and rests on the skin above his heart, the faint but strong beat making you smile. “You’re still you.” You say quietly and lift yourself up, propping your upper half on your elbow.

Clay furrows his brows as he watches you lean down to press your lips over his heart. He was brought back to the morning of his surgery, just hours before he got the page that a transplant was available, where you did exactly what you were doing now, but on his old and weak heart. 

“My angel….New heart, new life,” you continued, kissing his skin once more before meeting his eyes. “Still the same you.”

Clay lifted his hand to stroke your cheekbone with his thumb, the rest of his fingers curling under your jaw. “I’m still me,” he confirmed, matching your small grin with one of his own. “And my heart still loves you just the same.”

Are you looking for a wife?

Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

Warnings: pure fluff, mention of injuries, probably very wrong medical information, prescribed drug use, some cursing.

Summary: whenever you get ketamine as pain relief, you lose all thought-to-speech filter.

On AO3

A/N: I just watched an episode of one of those shows about air ambulances from the UK where they gave a guy ketamine, and he was high as a kite and kept telling the doctor (who was like 20 years older) "you're my kind of bird 🥺♥️". You really can get inspiration from anywhere, huh.

•~•~•~•~•

It had been one of those missions that went to shit really quick but somehow the Ghost team got the upper hand in the end. The intel was found, the hostage was rescued, and most of the team got away with minimal injuries.

Unfortunately for you, you were the exception to the last one.

The bullet and the stab wound you had received left you at a risk of bleeding out. One of the Vaqueros - Fernando, you learned - had enough medical training to treat you on site, but you really needed the MedEvac stat. The stim shot you had given yourself during the heat of the battle had long since worn off, and you were administered a strong dose of ketamine to keep your blood pressure from spiking any further and help with the pain once you all made it to the safe house.

However, one funny secondary effect you always got when you were given that drug, was that you lost all filters with your musings. They were never inappropriate per se, just plain weird. In a few words, you were high off your tits.

"...Mars is the only planet in the universe to be entirely inhabited by robots…" you mumbled to no one in particular as you stared straight at the roof over your head, past the top of Fernando's head who was still stitching a scratch on your forehead - only God knows how you got that one. Fernando just blinked at you and shook his head, focusing on his task, while Soap, who wasn't that far from you, was having a really hard time trying not to laugh at your stoner talk.

The utter (non?)sense that came out of your mouth was indeed amusing to whoever was listening closely, mostly Soap and Ghost, who, like the rest of 141, were already used to your reaction to ketamine from previous experiences, and would sometimes even prompt more unhinged thoughts from you. Price tried not to pay too much attention to whatever you said - he knew that as long as you were somewhat coherent and cohesive with your words, they could rule out any brain damage. Whenever Gaz heard your comments, it actually made him think about what you said, always coming to the conclusion that you were actually onto something.

Fernando finally finished with your care and left to check some of the others, while you kept staring at the ceiling of the safehouse, completely lost in your thoughts again. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you weren't sure if it was because of the drug or the blood loss. You were trying really hard to stay awake, but now that your body wasn't burning with pain and the adrenaline had worn off, all the exhaustion from the previous days caught up with you.

You looked over at Ghost, who was now speaking to Alejandro, and couldn't help but sigh dreamily at the leader of the Vaqueros - your inhibitions had really flown out of the window when the ketamine hit. They both glanced at you and you blinked twice, each time your eyelids got heavier.

"LT, 'm sleepy," you groaned, not noticing that you were pouting at both your Lieutenant and the Colonel like a grumpy toddler that needed a nap.

Alejandro somehow maintained a passive stare at you - inwardly though, he was already cradling you in his arms and cooing sweet nothings at you until you fell asleep.

Ghost simply stared at your lying form, and walked closer to you, crouching down to take a better look at your bandages.

"...Well, since you aren't actively bleeding out, I suppose you can take a nap," Ghost huffed but quickly held a finger to your face before you could take him up on it, "but someone will wake you up every 30 minutes just to make sure you still live, copy?"

"Copy, LT, loud and cle-" you interrupted yourself and just stared straight at his skull mask. Ghost frowned, wondering if he should feel concerned.

"...Are you-"

"A cheeseburger," you interrupted him, your eyes wide like sauce plates, "is a dead cow covered with its lactation." As soon as you finished your sentence, your head lolled to the side and you were knocked out cold, a soft snore leaving your barely open lips.

"Bloody fucking hell, kid," Ghost sighed, shaking his head in defeat as Soap wheezed not far away from you.

Alejandro could only stare at you, his hand clutched to his chest. "...Ay, ternura…"

•~•~•~•~•

Thirty minutes had passed when Alejandro decided to check on you. Activity had lulled to a stop and most of the people were catching on some sleep, except for those keeping guard.

He could've gotten some shut-eye too, but he was the kind of leader who wouldn't completely rest until it was totally safe to do so for the whole team.

As he approached you, he noticed you were already awake and staring at the ceiling. He smiled softly, wondering if you were getting lost in your silly little thoughts again, and sat down next to you, watching your eyes focus on him this time.

"What's in your head, preciosa?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper so as to not wake the others.

"...Are you looking for a wife?" You whispered back at him after a few moments.

He blinked twice before leaning a little closer, wondering if he had heard you right, and if you could hear the way his heart rate picked up. "... Perdón?"

"Are you looking for a wife, Alejandro?" You repeated, dead serious.

He cleared his throat to get rid of the knot that formed there, before grinning at you. "...why? Are you offering?"

"... Yes," you nodded, offering him a little grin of your own, "where should I turn my résumé?"

He chuckled softly and reached down, fixing a stray lock from your forehead and tucked it behind your ear, "ask me again when you're sober and I might tell you, tesoro."

"Oh, the ketamine wore off," you sighed, slightly leaning into his fingers, "the pain woke me up, my whole body burns, actually."

His grin dropped and he frowned at you in concern, you looked awfully calm to be in that much pain. "...Want me to ask Fernando to give you some more?"

You shook your head, offering him a smile, but this time he noticed the sweat on your forehead and the frown in your brow as you tried not to move too much, "nah, I want to be sober to hear your answer. So? How do I apply?"

This time Alejandro could barely check the volume of his chuckle as he leaned even closer to you, his knuckles brushing your cheek, "If you're available, the position is all yours, preciosa."

This time you offered him a toothy smile, a flush staining your cheeks and all signs of pain gone from your features, "I make a mean huevo ranchero, you won't regret it."

"You could make me only tostadas for the rest of your life and I'd still look forward to them," he cooed, before signaling Fernando over to you, "now, let's get you comfortable for the trip, si?"

Just as he spoke, the rumble of the heli echoed in the distance, and little by little the teams woke up from their slumber. You got another shot of ketamine and were prepared for the journey, and it wasn't long until you started sharing your wisdom again with whoever could hear, much to Alejandro's delight, Soap's amusement, and Ghost's chagrin.

"If you think about it, the Miss Universe pageant should be called Miss Planet Earth, because no aliens participate in it… that we know of…"

A/N2: *quietly tags @ragingbookdragon here* 🤫♥️

If your taking requests at the time you get around to seeing this can we get some flirty Keegan? My man needs more love and I'm starving for more stuff with him. Maybe some downtime just cuddling and flirting and being relaxed with his s/o at home. Or perhaps some jealous Keegan, a night out and he doesn't like the way someone keeps eyeing his s/o. Your choice. ❤️

Gentle Worship

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

Synopsis: The days when Keegan was home were rare, but always cherished.

Word Count: 5.03k

Warning: Slightly suggestive, pure fluff

A/N: Since these two requests were pretty much the same I combined them, hope you two don't mind. (I'll just tag you, @angsty-microwave, so you'll know right away that I posted this). This is the fluffiest thing I've ever written...Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

His arm was wrapped around your waist, tight and gripping you like you would disappear if he let go. The sweeping sensation of his hand was spread over the skin of your abdomen, nestled under your large shirt, and a calloused thumb moves gently back and forth over any available flesh. Just above the swell of your opposite hip, which digs heavily into the mattress, fingers tighten as you shuffle slightly.

It was early – perhaps too early to be awake – but Keegan was nothing if not as constant as the morning birds who sing their songs outside the window every day. Cascading light was just beginning to crest into the shared apartment, rendering your sheer shades useless. 

The only upside to that cheap purchase was that it helped get you out of bed in the morning, even if it was only to find a blanket to throw over the curtain wrack. 

Your boyfriend’s bare chest expands over your back and a silent sigh rustles the strands of your hair. A nose is pressed into your neck, a soft nuzzle leaving the flesh of your lips twitching into a sleepy smile. It was rare you woke up with him still home, but quickly remembered this was his scheduled day of leave. 

“I know you’re awake,” Keegan’s voice blesses your ears, deep and layered with gravel. You wondered if he got any sleep last night; when you went to bed he wasn’t back from work yet. 

The man fixes his grip on you and pulls, and, unbelievably, you end up closer to him. The Ghost presses your form deeply into his body like you were a teddy bear and not a grown woman before he continues. You go willingly, of course, the sheets rippling like water around the two of you as you slide. There was no better space heater than Keegan, and when he touched you, your skin turned to malleable clay.

Smiling, your eyelids keep stubbornly closed as a kiss is pressed into the fabric of his t-shirt you had stolen, just by your shoulder blade. 

“How?” Your voice whispers, lips forming a smirk. How had he known you were awake? The answer was incredibly simple – you already knew it, in fact. But it was better when you heard it from him. 

Keegan grunts, legs intertwined with yours. Sluggish, his free hand goes to circle around under your neck, leeching onto your throat as you sleepily make a noise at the action – not surprised but more annoyed at the jostling of your head. He doesn’t apply pressure, simply grips you and curls his fingers to find that specific place. 

“Pulse,” He says, squeezing for a moment and feeling your heart rate spike before his hand drops like lead. Your face heats, lungs tighten. 

Stifling a small giggle, you bring your limp hand up and grab at Keegan’s digits. You intertwine your fingers with his and pull, flipping his hand over and bending his wrist to an angle so you can lay a quick kiss to the burn scar along his knuckles. 

He had gotten it shielding Ajax, another Ghost, from debris flying off a grenade blast a long time ago. The damage extended down his arm and ended at his elbow – he always said it was ugly, and from then on you had never gone a day without kissing it. Every part of him was damaged, but you had never seen someone as beautiful as Keegan. 

The Ghost shivers at the feeling of your lips, and his breath stills in reverence as you lay another. 

To think he knew you so well he could tell when you had awoken by a small uptick in your veins; hear your heart pulse back to consciousness with his ear pressed to your neck, curled around you so tight you didn’t need a blanket for warmth. 

The man thinks to himself that even if you were a thousand miles away he would always know how you were just because of how much he cared for you. Like some fucked up sixth sense. 

When Keegan was out in the field he often looked at his watch and knew exactly what you were up to – at seven you woke up, made the bed, and entered the kitchen at seven fifteen still in your pajamas. From then on you made breakfast, took a shower, and so on. He could be in a gunbattle with Federation soldiers and his mind would blank when he spies his timepiece.

She’s going on a walk right about now, The Ghost would blink, balaclava bunched over his nose and chin; he would snap back not a mere second later as if he was never distracted.

If anything those moments grounded him – reminded him of what he was going back to when the sting of gunpowder made his eyes burn and his blood thumped with adrenaline. They should have distracted him, made him sloppy, but the thought of you waiting for him turned his focus to razor-sharp. He’s never going to leave you waiting for him for too long, hoping beyond hope that he’s not dead somewhere. 

“Welcome home, Kee,” You whisper against the skin of his wrist, and the man seems to remember to breathe as his heart skips a beat in his ribcage, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Keegan hums, expression softening, and the grip on your hip moves back. His callouses leave goosebumps in their wake, scratching your skin so perfectly as they start a journey to the opposite side of your waist. Traveling, the limb tenses to roll you onto your back with practiced ease. Keegan moves slightly, and you half-open your eyes with a grunt of surprise only to be graced with the blurry view of his toned chest, ivory scars you love just as much as the rest of him on full display. Grey sweats sit loosely around his tapered waist, the string united and tickling your navel as Keegan shifts his weight to be above you, knees pushing your legs open. Slumping forward, his hands land right by your head, crimpling the pillow below you and bringing your adoring attention to his eyes. 

Gun metal blue, with flecks of pure iron near the center – usually hard and cold, they stay half-lidded and weighed down by the early morning; silken in a way only you knew. 

You loved his eyes, how they gave you so much so willingly. It was a feat that others could dream about but never attain as you had. 

Keegan’s black hair is ruffled, the longer bits sticking out in a way that reminded you of a black cat who had just gotten into a fight in the back alley. The rising sun caresses his sharp cheeks and makes playful shadows.

Gawking at him would be an understatement, but it wasn’t like the man wasn’t doing it back to you.

Your body was sagging with fatigue, eyes red at the corners and watery. The shirt that once belonged to Keegan was now claimed as your own, baggy and swamping the sleep shorts you wear as if they weren't even on you. But that wasn’t really a surprise anyways – the shorts were barely sizable enough to be considered attire. 

Keegan wouldn’t have it any other way.

His eyes travel the expanse of your visible throat, how it bobs as you swallow, tongue clicking; going down he grunts lowly as his gaze lands on your bare thighs and the way they spread nicely around his fitted body and allowed him to grip you where he saw fit. 

You were so small compared to him…different. Soft and good. There were times the man was confused as to how this relationship even worked as well as it did because of how starkly contrasted your worlds were. Keegan, when he was away, was silent – so silent people could go days without comment from him unless it was necessary to the mission, so how you got him talking to you at that bar was an utter mystery. 

She’s good, Keegan thinks to himself as he spaces out above you, hands near your head tightening into the pillowcase, Didn’t even realize it was too late ‘til she had me in bed with her.

Just as your body started to squirm with anticipation from how Keegan was admiring you with eyes that bleed lust, his weight suddenly drops on top of you without any warning. Going to press his lower body between your legs, your sleep shorts bunch at the skin of his waist; his arms snake under your shirt - groping at any skin available. You yelp as your eyes bulge but don’t say a word as the Ghost situates himself as a gigantic dog would. A quiet moment passes where you hear the birds outside the window, chirping away and calling to their mates, but then your chest jerks in raspy, delayed, laughter; face wrinkling as warmth floods around your all-encompassed body.  

You were all but disappearing under him like you were never there.

Keegan smirks from where his head is pressed into the crook of your neck, muttering, “Good to be back…Missed ya.’” 

“Hm,” You make the sound in the back of your throat, raising a hand to card your fingers through his hair, “Well, you better have. I made brownies yesterday.”

Itching at his scalp, the man releases a sound akin to a purr, and the grip on you tightens, shoving you down even further into the mattress. By now the sheets had been pressed to the far end of the bed, thrown into a pile you would have Keegan straighten out when he made the bed later. You continue your action on his head as the weighted blanket above you presses light kisses to your sleep-warm skin. 

Keegan pours himself into the action – knowing how to tell you everything without uttering a word. 

It wasn’t long before your eyes started fluttering again, a delicate sigh falling from your lips as Keegan’s nose slides up your pulse point to your sensitive ear. 

“Go back to sleep,” He says, voice so smooth it travels over you like rain and leaves you shivering, “It’s too early for you to be up yet.” 

“M’kay,” You mutter, knocking your head to the side so it lightly connects with his scalp, the strands itching your cheek. He chuckles from over you, and you feel it more than hear it, but nonetheless, it leaves a warm fire in your veins as your breath evens; your lungs suck in careful breaths. 

You don’t notice, but your hand stays pressing Keegan’s head into you, latched onto the ebony of his hair strands like a lifeline. His hands around your waist squeeze once before they fall stationary – pointedly staying still as his heart beats opposite yours. 

And then a slow, steady, silence. 

The birds chirp and the sun rises, but in the bedroom, two lovers fall into a gentle slumber that only they could achieve in each other's presence. A strange phenomenon, really, to find a man like Keegan so eager to disappear into a dream – he rarely had nice ones. But, one could suppose that when he was with you the bad dreams never plagued him as they did in No Man’s Land during extended Ops. 

Because he never uttered a peep as he, in a pure sleep, nuzzled his head deeper into your neck instinctually. 

—

The sun is noticeably more visible, no longer a deep red but rather a goldish-orange that makes it look like the curtains are on fire. There are shadows of flying birds passing by behind the glass, whizzing about to catch insects mid-air before zipping back to their nests; no doubt feeding hungry children. 

Groaning your fingers twitch under the cream-colored comforter pulled up to your chin, and your eyes blink open. There’s a moment where you wonder where the weight on your chest has gone before you realize the absence was much more than a force. 

Where did Keegan go? 

His weight was absent from over you, his defined muscles not heavy on your skin just the way you like. The disappearance of those rough hands carding over your body made you huff, nose scrunching in annoyance. Already you knew he wasn’t in the bedroom or the Master Bath. 

Keegan was always silent when he went about, but when he was home you always found him making more noise so he wouldn’t scare you – walking more heavily, closing the cabinets so they made a small thump, even whistling when coming into a room you were in. There were too many broken mugs in the garbage admittingly but, now, the numbers had all but halted. 

Sitting up, you rub at your eyes before yawning, stretching your arms above your head, and arching your back before feeling the chill of the air invade your now-shed cocoon. Goosebumps rise as you shift your body and throw your legs out, bare feet dancing just above the wooden floors. Before you were about to graze your toes a grating sound from the kitchen stalls you; freezing your body as it leans forward, hands by your hips.

With twitching ears, you look at the slightly ajar door, eyes wide as your head tilts. 

“Keegan?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“Kitchen!” Your boyfriend calls back, and the scraping of a cast-iron pan makes itself known to you. 

Smiling, you look down at the cold floor and come up with an idea to keep as much body heat as possible while also making it to your Lover in record time. Throwing off the remainder of the covers you bolt to the door like a deer, pushing it to the side and squealing as the chill begins to enter your bones. Bouncing, you dash down the hallway laughing with a wide smile before entering the joint living room and kitchen. 

You see Keegan’s bare broad back at the stove, defined build falling to a tapered waist that begs for your legs to be wrapped around it. He still wears those gray sweats, only held up by the swell of his hips. Keegan’s head tilts to the side, listening to your glee as his hand lowers the spatula to rest on the counter. 

What’s she up to this time? He wonders, face blank but eyes crinkling at the sound of your echoing laughter. Keegan loved your laugh – loved it even more when he realized it was only for him to keep.

Taking a step back from the eggs he’s cooking, the man is just about to turn around to see what’s going on, and why you’re running feet are pounding over the floor, but you’re already upon him.

Thumping up the two stairs that separate the kitchen and living room, you dodge the island counter with nimble feet and launch yourself at Keegan’s back. 

Grappling like a koala, the Ghost below you grunts in surprise as your arms wrap around his neck; legs over his waist and locking. Reeling back away from the heated stove top so no one gets burned, Keegan’s hands snap back to your scalp and to your thigh. His eyes widen as he whips his head to the side to stare at you. Shock lives in the deep pools of his iris’.

“What the hell are you–?!” 

Your laughter interrupts his loud exclamation and the boar of a man pauses under you, fingers at your thigh squeezing the flesh like you were going to fall off of him; as if your legs weren’t clasped around him for dear life. Keegan keeps eye contact, raising a brow in mute exasperation.

“You mind tellin’ me why you thought that was a good idea, Doll? One mistake and you would’ve sent me right into the stove.” 

You press your face into the back of his skull, cheeks heating with sheepishness as you nuzzle the strands of his hair, “...The floors were cold…”  

A moment of silence ensues, the sizzling of the eggs in the pan the only sound bouncing off the walls. The nothingness trickles before a jerking motion of the body you hold makes you bounce up and down, hands along your form tightening.

Keegan chuckles velvet-like, eyes crinkling at the edges as a small smile stretches his lips. You, in turn, giggle quietly into his skin, peeling your head back just a smidge to look him in the eye with a mischievous glint. The man turns his head back to the pan and releases the hand from the back of your head, going to grab the spatula with long fingers. His second stays on your thigh, lightly squeezing when you lean farther into his back. 

He shoves down the feelings of delight that your close contact gives him.

“Smells good,” You comment, chin going to rest on Keegan’s shoulder. It was a wonderful thing that your boyfriend was tall – you had a perfect view of everything below you so long as you used him like playground equipment, “I missed you cooking half-naked in the mornings. Gave me a good view and a meal…” Cheekily, you nudge his ear with your nose, “Sometimes both at the same time.” 

You hear the man huff, but the redness that blooms over his ears makes you smirk, half the grip around his neck moving to trail over his Adam's Apple; nails lightly dragging over the scars and burns over his pecks and upper body.

“Careful,” Keegan warns, but the gravel in his voice betrays his enjoyment. As well as the sly tone he takes.

“I am being careful,” You tease, drawing your hand back for stability when Keegan moves to grab the plates from inside the nearby cabinet, “If I was any more careful I’d be you.” 

“You’re makin’ it sound like an insult,” He distributes the eggs evenly, sending you a quick glance out of the side of his eye – the makeup of them back to that regular blank slate but still glazed with care – and raised a brow. 

You have to choke down the whimper in your throat when he stares at you like that.

“Well, how do I put this,” Looking to the side to hide your burning cheeks, you continue, “You’re the only person who could be you, attractively, Love. I think It would induce a heart attack if anyone else acted like you around me.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean, Civ?”

You laugh as Keegan jostles you, shaking his shoulder so you have to grip him tighter around the neck and waist. He scoffs, but a slight curl to his lips tells you everything you need to know. 

The damn bastard likes me hanging off him, You realize, Son of a Bitch. 

But you can’t help the way your pulse sings. 

Grabbing the filled plates, Keegan moves to the island with you still stuck to his back before striding smoothly to grab forks; carrying you like you weigh nothing to him. 

For a man like your boyfriend, you do weigh nothing. 

“Off you get,” Keegan mutters, turning around when he gets back to the island so your backside is just above the countertop, “Careful.”

You release your legs from around his waist, flinching lightly at the chill of the granite as your skin connects, and allow the man to turn around with your fingers still locked together behind his neck. 

“I think you’ve forgotten something,” You lift a brow in expectation, and watch Keegan tilt his head.

“Forgotten? I don’t forget things, Doll,” He says, but steps closer regardless, placing down the forks on the island with a clink before his large hands go to your waist, pressing heavily into the fabric of your shirt, “You’ve confused me with someone else. Hesh, probably.”

“Hmph,” You roll your eyes, “If I remember correctly you woke up first, so it’s your turn, Kee. And Hesh isn’t that bad at forgetting stuff – he remembers Riley’s birthday well enough.” Smirking, you puff out your chest. 

Keegan frowns down at you. 

The man’s grip rapidly travels to your back, forcing you right into him with a dig of his fingers and all you can do is gasp in retaliation. You feel his muscles move and writhe with the action, biceps bulging over your side as they shove into your flesh. 

“Hm,” Keegan grunts from above, and you feel his chest expand against yours because of it. He leans closer so that his breath hits your lips, and utters sarcastically as his eyes bore into you wide ones, “Alright. But only because my girl asked so nicely.”

Keegan moves his hand to grip your chin tight and angles your head up without hesitation, thick digits brushing your skin before his lips descend and encompass yours. 

All of it happened so suddenly that you barely had time to react before he was already groaning into your mouth, guiding your head to the side. Sighing through your nose, your eyes flutter shut as you both move together, and when you dig into the sensitive skin of his neck with your nails you let your teeth graze his plump flesh. 

Pulling at his bottom lip, you revel in the sensation of his palms sliding down your spine, going to tighten a hold over the band of your shorts at the small of your back. He opens his mouth for you, allowing your tongue to meet his own. A deep humming in his chest showed his pleasure.

Keegan could never fully describe how kissing you affected him – how it broke down his psyche to the bare essentials that he would use to make you feel good in turn. It was like trying to describe a drug trip, wanting more with a deep ache in his chest.

This really was the best way to wake up.

Grunting and pulling back for air, you pant as your nose twitches. The scent of the eggs was at your side, tempting your empty stomach like a Keegan was testing your willpower. Smirking when the man’s bitten lip comes into your field of view, your boyfriend moves and puts his forehead against yours. His eyes silently urge you to continue what you were doing moments ago, but you pause.

“I’m hungry,” You say simply, eyes sparkling as your heart bounces inside of you; lungs slowly gaining back the air that Keegan had stolen. Ever the overachiever, he doesn’t even look partially winded. 

The Ghost’s expression shifts, eyebrows turning in at your comment. He mutters, “I can take care of–” 

A finger snaps to his mouth, and you press until the skin bulges out at the sides. Chuckling, you catch Keegan’s fake pouting and less-than-amused expression and use your free hand to ruffle his hair. He scoffs, pulling his head away from your attacking grip.

“For eggs, Keegan Russ.” The man groans quietly, backing up a step, “You perv.” 

Your arms immediately gravitate to one of the forks and a plate, legs still handing off the counter limply.

“Tease,” Your boyfriend mutters before squeezing your thigh and going to grab the milk from the fridge. Smiling, you watch his back as he saunters away, chewing the food he had made for the both of you.

—

“Love?” You call from the living room, digging around in the drawer, fingers sliding over the old vinyl records, muttering the names under your breath before pausing, “Where’s My Way?”

“Frank Sinatra?” The man asks from the office where he was finishing up some reports from Elias. 

Usually, you would be annoyed by the Ghost leader for giving your boyfriend more work to do on his day off, but seeing as it was only a single file this time, you could stave off the fiery phone call to the Captain. 

It’s a good thing Elias’ nice, You think with a furrowed brow, Otherwise, I’d have no problem yelling at him. 

“...Third drawer to the right, fifth down just under Louis Armstrong.”

“Thanks!” Following Keegan’s instructions, your dig around and, sure enough, after passing What a Wonderful World you find the blue sleeve depicting Frank Sinatra’s face and smirk, “There you are, lovely,” Muttering, you close the drawer and carefully peel the vinyl out of the protective layering and walk over to the record player sitting on one of the side tables near the couch. 

Dropping the sleeve on the coffee table, you set everything up just right and place the needle in the groove carefully, making sure not to scratch it. Soon enough the catchy song is wafting out into the air, leaving you nodding your head along to the late ’60s tune. Humming, and feeling quite content, you turn to go and grab a book and wait for Keegan to be done with his work; your comfy pants and sweatshirt hugging you warmly along the way. 

“Thought you hated Sinatra?” Yelping, your heart stutters as your head snaps to the hallway opening, “Called him overrated, if I’m not mistaken.” 

Leaning against the wall, Keegan watches you closely, a black tank top on but still sporting those gray sweatpants. It was like he knew that you loved the way he looked in them. 

“You need a bell, Kee,” You force out a quick breath, frowning over at the man, “You know that? And I did not say I didn’t like Sinatra – that was The Beach Boys.” 

Keegan rolls his eyes but stays where he is, arms crossed as you still hum to the song under your breath. He looks at your clothes, freshly washed hair, and the way the light covers you like a shroud. You looked so simple like that…domestic…he calls the word forward to his mind. 

It was one he never thought he would use to describe a situation he was in – not even when before ODIN was fired over the Western United States. Domestic. Try as he could, being like that with you was far better than anything he had ever experienced. 

You brought him comfort that he would kill to keep. 

Suddenly, Keegan pushes off the wall just as you start to head over to the bookshelf. You had simply expected him to leave and go back to his office; finish those reports so the afternoon could be free. 

“Keegan?” You ask as he continues to stalk forward, your legs halting in turn, “What are you doing?” 

He stops right in front of you as the song meets the high point and his silent feet pause ahead of you. Looking at him strangely, you tilt your head and smile, slightly confused.

He has to finish work…why is he… 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Amusingly creasing your brow, you watch as Keegan tilts his head. He holds out a hand to you, beginning to smirk at the question.

Wasn’t it obvious? 

His eyes were burning again, littered with wells of silver and iron that gleam like stars when the warm light hits them. You’re reminded of a story you were told as a child about an immortal prince of starlight, who waited through every century to find the reincarnated woman he loved – the lady only able to remember their lives together when she looked into his eyes. 

Now, Keegan was no prince. He was far too covered in blood and gore to ever be considered one…but at that moment you swear he came close to one.

“Dance with me, Doll.” Your expression freezes, breath stilling, before a heavy heat blooms all over your face and neck; ears burning. Watching your boyfriend with soft wonder, your heart beats out of order.

Dance? You can’t help the giddy look on your face, ears twitching, He wasn’t to dance with me?

The music in the background swells as you place your hand in his, feeling his rough callouses and sucking in a breath when he squeezes your limb so gently – like you were made of glass. 

Your hands go around Keegan’s shoulders, fingers itching the back of his neck as his own circle your waist. Both of your chests brush, and you wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is beating. Humming My Way under your breath, you begin to sway back and forth softly as your boyfriend stares down at you. A smile graces his lips, pulling back to show pristine white teeth. 

Those true smiles were only promised to you, and you would have it no other way.

“You’re a real softy, Mr. Russ,” You whisper, setting your head into the crook of his neck and sighing, “What would you do if your friends saw you like this? Slow Dancing? Talking all the time instead of grunting out orders?”

“I’d have to off ‘em,” He grunts, ironically, with his breath rustling your hair, “Can’t ruin my reputation now. Worked too hard for it.” 

Pressing a kiss to your head, you feel Keegan’s chest begin to rumble, causing you to let your body lose all tension and tautness. Closing your eyes, you let him guide your movements with his own and listen to the sound of him humming to you. The music was lost to the two of you, only absorbed in each other – the feeling of skin and beating pulses. 

These moments were rare, but so, so, worshiped. You knew Keegan’s job was dangerous, but, hell, the world was dangerous now. All you could ask was that he came home – not that he would come home uninjured because he almost always would. Your boyfriend was selfless, giving so much and never asking for anything. Worthy of all the love in the world.

And you would give that to him – freely. Because you know he loved you in turn.

You were both the receivers of a gentle type of worship; a blessing that can only be given to a kind of bond that would never be broken despite the limitations of death. 

And as Keegan lays his hand under your chin and brings your lips into a kiss, you knew that even long after you were both dead and gone the very bones that live in you would always yearn to be by his. 

Keegan was your future, and, so too, were you his; he would always return home just for you.

For this. 

For a gentle, unselfish, worship.

kaeya kinnies/simps when i tell them i main kaeya but i’m in his slander club be like: