#AND i need to stumble home exhausted and curl up on the bed that way canines do and then do a big sigh while people i love cuddle up with me

[nerdyqueerr]

they need to make hrt that turns you into a werewolf STAT

[of-many-fandomss]

Drinks and Jackets

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando comes home drunk and doesn’t recognize you, and you can’t help but swoon at the devotion your boyfriend has for you

warnings: drinking, slight cursing

word count: 0.9k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

A long sigh left Lando’s lips as he pushed his bedroom door open, stumbling slightly in his steps as he did so, needing to cling onto the door frame for support so he didn’t go flying face first into the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

After inhaling a deep breath from his nose- the man's eyebrows furrowed in concentration- he pushed off of the frame and attempted to shrug his jacket off of his shoulders. Which only ended in him banging into the wall next to his bed with a small, “Ow,”.

“Lan?” A soft voice rang through the darkness of the room after the thud was emitted.

Norris jumped at least a foot into the air with a small, high pitched squeal of surprise, whipping around with wide eyes just in time to see a figure turn on the lamp beside the bed.

You were tiredly rubbing at your eyes, pushed up on one elbow as you looked at him from across the room, imminently taking note of his wide eyes and tousled hair. Not to mention the fact that he only had one arm through the sleeve of his jacket.

Slight amusement crept onto your features when you realized you had startled him, though a hint of guilt kept you from openly laughing as you gently asked, “Are you alright?” Sleep lacing your tone.

The wide eyes of Lando didn’t shrink. In fact, they only seemed to widen as he looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads right before his very eyes, “Who are you?” He hissed, panic and confusion seizing his tone.

At his words, all of the exhaust suddenly disappeared from your body and you finally pushed yourself to fully be sitting up, now wide awake and alert, “What-”

You didn’t even get to finish voicing your bewilderment before Lando- literally- stumbled over his own feet to reach the opposite side of the bed you were sitting on, “That’s my girlfriend's spot!” He exclaimed, eyes still wide as he stared at you.

Your eyebrows drew downwards, “I know, it-”

“Listen, I’m warning you lady, you need to get out of here before she gets back.” He was nodding along to his own words. While he clearly thought he was looking very serious- and maybe even threatening- it was difficult to even consider him whilst he looked hilarious. Clearly drunk and jacket half hanging off of him.

And just like that, the mumsnet flickered back inside of you and a slow grin slowly lifted the corners of your lips, “Is that so?” You asked, playing along when you realized just how drunk he was.

Lando nodded again, “Yeah, and she could kick your ass.” He said it so matter of factly with his chin raised, clear pride laying in his words, even as wasted as he currently was.

Unable to hold it back anymore, you let the first chuckle slip out of your lips as you pushed yourself to your knees and made your way over to the other side of the bed until you were in front of him at eye level.

You reached out and hooked your arms around his neck, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at him lovingly, “And what if I wanted to kiss you right now?” You teased.

Just as the brunette man's eyes widened in a panic and he looked as though he was going to move to swat you away, he froze, blinking once. Twice. Three times at you.

“Love?” He looked like a little, lost puppy dog when he tilted his head to the side, the first bit of recognition flaring through his eyes when he finally realized that it was you in front of him, not some random girl sleeping in his bed.

“You had fun with Carlos and Danny, I take it.” You joked, subconsciously toying with his curls.

“Oh, love, I missed you so much.” Lando gushed suddenly, face automatically becoming alight and housing a lovesick expression.

A laugh escaped your lips as the man wrapped his arms around your center and brought you both flying down onto the mattress before holding you close, his eyes already shutting as he let out a hum of content.

You chuckled, watching as he snuggled closer to you, inhaling the scent of your hair with his eyes still squeezed shut.

Gently, you maneuvered the two of you so that his head was resting against your chest and you were the one cradling him. He let you do so without an ounce of argument, the soft smile still sitting on his lips as he held you close.

Despite the fact that his jacket was still only half off of him and he was yet to change out of his clothes that he was in to go out, you knew from past experience that there was nothing on earth that could pull Lando off of you at that moment. Even to get fully ready for bed.

So, instead, you held him close, running your fingers through his hair after flicking off of the lamp light and waited for your boy to fall asleep.

“I love you,” The words were mumbled against your old sleep shirt with the man himself being halfway to sleep.

“I love you too, Lan.” You dipped your head to place a lingering kiss on the man's forehead, “So much.”

[lanawinterscigarettes]

More Important (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Summary: you not feeling well is far more important than work in your boyfriends' eyes

Warnings: the reader is sick/doesn't feel good but it isn't specified the reason why so it's pretty much up for interpretation, House and Wilson are both loving and worried boyfriends, kind of hurt/comfort given the themes, brief and mild swearing, they/them pronouns are used to refer to the reader one (1) time in a gender neutral manner

A/N: I felt awful when I woke up the other day and when I went back to sleep I had a dream with House and Wilson that ended up inspiring this fic

When you woke up that morning, every muscle in your body ached as if someone had dropped a sack of bricks on you while you slept. As much as you wanted to just stay in bed, you unfortunately had to get up to use the bathroom.

House was still asleep next to you, letting out the occasional peaceful snore despite the time indicating he'd be late for work if he didn't wake up soon. Not that he cared.

Wilson was already up and ready, from what you could tell. That assumption was later confirmed when you stumbled to the bathroom, the sight before you making it seem as though your boyfriend was being serenaded by the sound of the blow dryer as he fixed his hair.

"Are you almost done? I need the bathroom," you mumbled groggily, leaning up against the side of the doorframe while you waited for him to finish.

"Well, good morning to you, too," He responded in a voice that was far too chipper for your taste given how early it was. "And yeah, almost." He shut off the blow dryer and turned to face you, his big brown eyes studying you with a slight look of concern. Being a doctor, of course he could recognize when something was physically wrong.

"Are you okay?" He tentatively asked, trying to approach the subject in a delicate manner. After all the time he'd spent with House he knew not everyone wanted to talk about their feelings or even admit when something was wrong.

"Yeah, 'm fine. Jus' have a slight headache." Technically it wasn't a full lie, as your head did hurt, but you were greatly underexaggerating the pain level in hopes he wouldn't worry.

Big mistake. Almost as soon as you shut the bathroom door did Wilson turn and head towards the bedroom with the full intent of waking up your other boyfriend.

By the time you were done, both House and Wilson were standing close together, presumably discussing your supposed symptoms, even if you couldn't hear what they were saying.

"I know you guys are talking about me," you grumbled out the accusation while shuffling back over to the bed. Wilson looked a bit guilty to be talking about something involving you behind your back, but House just seemed amused you still had the energy required to dish out snark despite not feeling good.

"Whatever led you to that conclusion?" House asked rhetorically. "We very well could've been discussing what traffic will be like on the way in to work, or our favorite romantic movies." At that, Wilson rolled his eyes in annoyance. House ignored him, finishing with, "Not everything is about you, y'know."

"Don't play dumb with me," was the only thing you could manage to get out as a response given how tired you were. Collapsing onto the bed, you curled under the covers in hopes that maybe all you needed was a couple hours of extra sleep.

Too exhausted for your brain to work properly, you only picked up bits and pieces of their conversation. From what you could tell, they were trying to decide whether or not they should stay home from work to look after you, and if so who it should be out of the two of them.

"I'll stay here with them. Just tell Cuddy I can't come in today because of a medical emergency," House offered while glancing over at your blanket clad form. As much as he acted like he didn't care, he didn't enjoy seeing you in pain, even if it was over something small.

"Are you sure?" Wilson questioned, just to double check in case he wanted to change his mind.

House nodded his head to confirm, uttering "yeah, I'm sure" in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You heard the sound of footsteps approaching, feeling as Wilson leaned down to press a kiss to your face, murmuring the words "I have to go to work, but I'll be back soon". You just nodded, too weak to say anything more than a quiet "love you".

After he left, House made his way back over to the bed, gently nudging what he assumed to be your leg with his cane. "Move over," he commanded in his usual gruff manner that led little room for argument.

Obliging, you shifted over on the bed, giving him the space to lay down in his normal spot. "Sorry."

He let out a sigh as he got on the bed, feeling a little bad he was so rude given just how pathetic you looked. "It's fine."

The two of you were quiet for a moment before you spoke up again, your voice sounding a little hoarse. "I'm sorry you got stuck here with me. I'm sure you'd rather be doing anything else other than this."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, hearing you say that hurt his heart a little. Then again, he couldn't necessarily blame you for thinking that. "Not true. Why would I want to be in a hospital full of sick people I don't even like when I could be with only one sick person I can at least tolerate?"

You let out a snort of laughter, fully recognizing the jest in his tone. He obviously cared, the grumpy bastard, even if he didn't show it very often.

He felt accomplished when he heard your laugh, continuing in a softer and more genuine tone. "Besides, some things are more important, anyway."

"Mhm." Humming softly in agreement, you moved closer to him on the bed until your head was resting against his shoulder, making sure to give him the space to get up and stretch his leg if he needed to later on. "I love you."

A faint smile formed on his face at your words, one of his arms reaching over to wrap around you protectively. "I know." It was his own way of showing his love for you without having to say the words.

Feeling comfortable and safe in his arms, you must've dozed off because the next thing you remembered was being woken up by the sound of a door opening and shutting.

"Could you be any louder?" House's irritated voice rang out through your ears, the sound not being entirely unpleasant even if it did manage to wake you up more.

"Sorry," you heard Wilson apologize in a hushed tone. There's no way it was evening already, which meant he must've gotten off work early.

"What are you doing back here?" You called out, your voice sounding tired yet curious. "You're supposed to still be at work."

"I couldn't stay knowing you were home sick," he responded as he slipped under the covers next to you, not even bothering to change into more comfortable clothes first.

"Oh, sure, just forget all about me," House complained in mock offense, something that Wilson chose to outrightly ignore.

"But the hospital- I mean, you're the head of oncology, you can't just-"

"Some things are more important," Wilson gently cut off your worries, his hand reaching out to rest on top of yours.

"Hm, that sounds familiar," you muttered while giving House a look that said 'I know you two have been talking about me again'. He looked back as if he had no clue what your deal was.

"Go back to sleep, honey. We'll both still be here when you wake back up." It was hard to ignore the command of the oncologist next to you, especially when he spoke in such a low and soothing way.

"Okay," you agreed without a fight, snuggling comfortably into the arms of your two boyfriends as you closed your eyes and allowed sleep to overtake you yet again, starting to feel a lot better already.

End notes: I feel like I'm not very good at writing fics with poly couples which is a damn shame because I really love doing it </3

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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🏷 taglist: @pigeonmama

[0omillo0]

Oki so Im like searching fics all day long and u said i can request and im never getting enough of ur fics anyways so here luv 💕

Sooo Chan x reader

where maybe reader is already feeling horrible lately. And today smth appens at the studio and chan gets rlly frustrated so he comes home and today yn has been feeling even worse and feels like she can’t even get out of bed but like Chan comes home, not even seeing yns horrible stadium so he lets all the anger out on her wich rlly gives her the last push to like feeling just entirely depressed. Then she is standing crying and totally drained in front of one of the other members door, breaking down totally.

I’ll let the rest up to u, pls make it really really angsty but pls i just need a good lot of comfort at the end ❤️

BANGCHAN X READER

a/n: I’ve already made a vv similar story but I like this one so much better! let me know what you think ♡ also this is for my beloved @hannamoon143 tysm for your request and sorry for the wait!

genre: angst, comfort

The day had already been heavy, dragging you down like you were walking through thick mud. Lately, it seemed every breath took more effort than the last, and today, it had reached a peak. You couldn’t even get out of bed. The weight of everything pressed down on you, making the air feel like it was suffocating. It wasn’t like this was new—this lingering sadness had been with you for days, like a dark cloud refusing to lift.

You curled up deeper into your sheets, staring at the wall. You hadn’t moved in hours, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t done anything but exist in this space of nothingness. The world outside your room felt miles away, unreachable. The only sound you heard was the occasional muffled voices from outside your apartment.

And then there was a slam. You heard the front door being pushed open harder than usual, and you knew Chan was home. The sound of his keys hitting the counter was sharp, followed by a frustrated sigh that cut through the quiet air. You knew that sound—something must’ve gone wrong at the studio. His day hadn’t been any better than yours, apparently.

Your body wanted to get up, wanted to greet him, but you couldn’t. It was like you were glued to the mattress. Even when you heard his footsteps approaching, your body wouldn’t listen.

The door to the bedroom opened, and without looking at him, you knew he was tense. His energy radiated frustration, the kind that made rooms feel smaller, the air thicker.

“God, today was insane,” Chan muttered, not noticing how you barely shifted under the covers. His voice was rough, filled with a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “Everything went wrong. Absolutely everything.”

You bit your lip, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Maybe if you said something, anything, it could stop what you knew was coming.

But then he turned, finally looking at you, his eyes glossing over the state you were in. He couldn’t see it—he couldn’t see how you were breaking inside. All he saw was a person not responding, and it made him snap.

“Can you at least say something?!” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut deep. His frustration had reached its peak, and you were the closest target. “I’ve been dealing with so much today, and you’re just lying there. Not a word, nothing. Are you a fucking emotionless doll??”

You flinched at his tone, at his words. Your chest tightening even more. The tears that had been sitting at the edge of your eyes began to spill over silently.

Chan didn’t notice right away. His anger kept him blind. He sighed. “I’m sorry if I sound harsh, but it’s been such a mess, and I can’t—” His words stumbled to a stop when he saw the way your body shook, the way you were crying silently beneath the covers.

“Y/N?” His voice softened, the frustration vanishing as quickly as it had come. “Hey, hey…” He moved closer, but it was too late. The weight of everything—his words, your own struggles—it all collapsed in on you like a tidal wave.

You sat up slowly, the sobs shaking your frame as you tried to wipe the tears away, but they kept coming. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible through the storm of emotions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I just… I can’t…”

Chan’s face fell as he realized what he’d done. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t see it. I was so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t see how much you were hurting. I’ve made it worse I’m so sorry—“

But his apology couldn’t stop the breaking that was already happening inside you. You needed to escape, to find some sort of relief from the pressure that was crushing you from all sides.

Without saying a word, you slipped out of the bed, your legs unsteady, and you walked toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. Chan’s voice followed you, concern clear in his tone, but you couldn’t stop. Not now.

You found yourself in front of one of the other members’ doors. You didn’t even know how you got there, your vision blurred with tears. Maybe it was instinct, seeking comfort somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t the suffocating silence of your room or the crushing weight of your mind.

You knocked, barely registering the sound of your own fist against the wood. And then, as if the last string holding you together snapped, your body gave in. You slid down to the floor, your arms wrapping around your knees as the sobs came harder now, uncontrollable, raw.

The door opened, and the blurry shape of someone—was it Felix?—stood there, eyes wide in shock. “Y/N…?” he asked gently, his voice like a balm, but you couldn’t respond. All you could do was cry.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Felix crouched down beside you, his hand hovering for a moment before gently resting on your shoulder. His touch was warm, comforting in a way that made you feel safe enough to let it all out. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re not alone.”

His words broke something else in you, but this time, it wasn’t painful. It was a release. The tears kept falling, but his presence kept you grounded, kept you from drowning completely.

Behind you, you heard Chan’s hurried footsteps. He stopped when he saw you on the floor, a mix of guilt and worry etched into his face. “Y/N…” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

Felix looked up at him, a silent exchange passing between them, and Chan knelt down beside you. “I didn’t mean to—” He stopped, choking on his own emotions, before continuing softly, “I should’ve seen that you were hurting. I was selfish.”

You looked up at him, your vision still blurred, but you could see the regret, the hurt in his eyes. And it wasn’t just because he’d had a rough day. It was because he hadn’t been there for you when you needed him most.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice shaking.

Chan shook his head, reaching out to take your hands in his, his grip gentle, tentative. “No, no, you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention. I love you, and I should’ve been there for you. I’m so so sorry for calling you.. the way I called you. I’m sorry baby”

You shook your head. “Do you think I’m useless?? Am I just a doll to you??”

Chan realised how much his words hurt you. At this point he felt so guilty, his expression softened, his big glossy eyes looking directly at yours. “Y/Nie, my love, I didn’t mean to say those awful things to you. I understand if you’re not going to trust me anymore, but I swear I love you more than anything and I’ll do anything to make it up for you.. for us..”

Felix gave a small nod and stood up, retreating to give the two of you space. Chan pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as he spoke, “We’re going to get through this. Together, okay? I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.”

And for the first time that day, you felt a small sense of relief, a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t going to be easy—these feelings, this heaviness—but you weren’t alone. Chan was with you, and that made all the difference.

As you sat there, held in his arms, the storm inside you slowly began to calm, the cracks in your heart starting to mend, piece by piece.

“I’m here,” Chan whispered again, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ll always be here.”

taglist

@hannamoon143 @intartaruginha

[tirasamu]

02. SOMETHING I WAIT FOR . . . dazai has a close call (not close enough, in his opinion). he barely makes it to your apartment, but you're there just in time to patch him up, in more ways than one.

ft. pm!dazai + pm!reader, possessive behavior, descriptions of blood, injuries and suicidal thoughts, requited crushes, 3.6k w.c.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai hates pain.

If the idiot who shot him would’ve aimed just a little bit higher, it might've been a fatal wound. Instead, all he did was graze his shoulder. It wasn’t enough to cause serious harm, but just enough to make him bleed in miseryー just his luck.

The man must’ve been dead by now, taken care of by one of his subordinates. He didn’t stay long enough to find out, slipping from the scene before anyone could try to force him into the Mafia’s infirmary. He knows your apartment is close. 

He’s nearing the point of being injured where the pain fades and melts into pure exhaustion. He hates the way his blood feels against his hands, and he uses it to ground himself. It’s already soaked through his shirt, wet and warm as it seeps between his fingers and drips down his arm, absorbing into the bandages around his wrist. His already obscured vision is fading, white stars glistening from beneath the edge of his lashes, but he keeps his eyes trained ahead on your building. He swears you used to only have one apartment door, his vision doubling and growing hazy. 

Just a few more steps. That's all he needs to make it to you.

He huffs as his hand slips from your doorknob, sliding off the metal from his weak grip. He falls forward, blood smearing against the doorframe where his palm flattens as he tries to steady himself, pressing his forehead against your door with a quiet thump. You have to be home right now. Right? Please be home right now.

As soon as you open your door from the other side of your apartment, he collapses, landing against your chest. He curls against you, inhaling the scent of your skin with the desperation of a man who’d just been saved from drowning. 

“Dazai?” you stumble backward, but he doesn’t weigh nearly enough to make you fall. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he grips your shirt in his hands, trying to press himself impossibly closer to you. He can feel the moment you realize he’s bleeding, your chest stalling mid-inhale. “Oh my god, Dazai.”

His jacket slips from his shoulders, falling to the floor limply as you carry him inside, kicking the door closed with your foot. His feet drag against your carpet as he tries to walk, but he’d rather use his waning strength to snuggle closer into your side than keep his balance. Even with your body supporting his own, he plops unceremoniously onto your couch.  

“It’s okay,” he shivers when you start to unbutton his shirt, pulling back the bloody, frayed fabric stuck to his skin. He can’t tell if you’re talking to him or yourself. “You’re okay.”

His bangs are damp, Yokohama’s humidity and his own sweat gluing them to his forehead. You push them back, stroking your thumb along the edge of his bandage over his cheek tenderly.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

He tilts his head to press his face into your palm and smiles at you. You’re so pretty when you frown at him like this.

“I'll be right back,” you squish his cheeks between your hands, making his lips pucker. “Don’t try to move.”

He has to stop himself from reaching back out for you when you let him go. He squeezes the fabric of his trousers instead, watching you disappear past the couch’s limited view. He wants to pull you on top of him and beg you to ignore the blood leaking out of his body, to just wrap your arms around him and hold him until there’s nothing left between the two of you. It still wouldn’t be close enough; if he had the choice, he would shrink down and make a home inside your chest.

He tries his best to relax into the cushions beneath him. He'd much rather be in your bed than on your couch, but it was still yours, and that made it enough for him to want to sink into it until it absorbed him whole. Your apartment was nothing like his hollow shipping container, the metal walls suffocating in the summer heat.

He could’ve dragged himself there instead. Maybe he would’ve finally died from blood loss if he was lucky. That's what he wants. Really.

So then why did he drag himself here? Because you felt safe? 

Dazai came to a realization a few days ago, one more painful than the wound in his shoulder, or the fact he has a mission with Chuuya a few days from now. Ever since it planted its dirty roots in his brain, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. 

It grew deeper every time his chest tightened around you, or his heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, or his stomach churned in jealousy when someone else touched you. 

This, his mind taunted him, is what people say love feels like. Worst of all, when he whined to Odasaku and Ango about how annoying you were, they didn’t stop talking about his “crush” for the rest of the night. 

His body protests as he sits up, vision swimming as the walls of your living room tilt. He tries to blink it away when he hears you sigh as you come back from down the hallway. He makes his one visible eye big and pouts his lips when he looks at you.

“Dazai,” the medical supplies you always keep on hand are cradled in your arms as you walk back toward him. “I told you not to move.”

“You took too long,” he whines. “I'm dying, you know.”

“You wish.” you guide him back down gently, your hands leaving tingles beneath his skin in their wake. He watches you kneel beside him, organizing the little bottles and boxes on your coffee table. You press down on one of the white lids with the heel of your palm, twisting it and knocking it upside down. You hand him one of the pills that fall out, and he swallows it dry.

You open another one of your bottles, and the familiar, sterile smell could be nothing other than saline. It’s cold against his skin, but your touch is what makes him shiver and his hair raise. You squeeze his leg softly, running your fingers against his thigh. It ignites something warm in his stomach, but it fades to white pain when the liquid absorbs into his wound. He jolts, and you murmur an apology, squeezing his thigh a little tighter. You’re trying to distract him, and it works pathetically well.

When you get closer to clean the drying blood off his skin, he can’t help but let his eyes fall to your lips, slightly parted in concentration. You’re close enough for him to kiss, and against the ache of his shoulder, all he can think about is how you might taste.

He wonders how soft you’d feel if he traced the shape of your lips with his tongue. He imagines the sweet sting of you pulling his hair as he memorizes every inch of you he can, taking everything you give him and more. It’d be different from the other people he’s kissed, he knows it; using his mouth to get information out of theirs did nothingー if anything, he felt more numb when it was over. 

He can see a familiar box from the corner of his eye: it’s the brand of bandages he always uses, the only kind that doesn’t irritate his scarred, sensitive skin. He watches your fingers as they delicately pull the beginning of the roll, imagining the feeling of you wrapped around his bare body instead of the cotton he adorns himself with. 

You turn him on his side to wrap the bandages around his shoulder and under his arm. Once the ends are tied, nice and snug around him, you sit back on your heels.

“Can I have your hand?” 

He gives you both, trying to hide the way they tremble. You grab the one covered in blood tenderly as you begin to clean it off. 

“I guess you weren’t lucky enough to die this time,” you smile teasingly, but he knows it isn’t real. It doesn’t look right on your face, like a mask that’s too big. He can see the worry you try to hide, clouding your eyes like murky water. He hates it. “Sorry.”

“I never get what I want,” he sighs. “I think I'm cursed. Do you have something to cure that in one of those little bottles too?”

“I don't know if you’ll ever die, even when you become an old man,” If, not when, he wants to correct, but holds his tongue. “You’re like a cockroach.”

“Yeah?” he reaches up to poke your face with his bloody fingers as you try to hold him still. “You’re like a little kid.”

“You’re more like a kid than I am.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah,” you giggle, catching his hand back in your own. You wipe down each of his fingers, gently scrubbing the spaces in between. “You are.”

When he speaks again, he’s surprised by how quiet his voice is. He almost hopes you don’t hear him, afraid of the answer. “How?”

“Because,” your voice softens, holding his now clean hand. You trace over one of the lines on his palm with your thumb.  “You want to be loved.”

He feels like he can’t breathe as he realizes that for once, he doesn’t have the upper hand. All of his walls he’s so carefully built, it’s like they’re made of glass around you. The possibility that you see him more clearly than he sees you terrifies him. 

The painkillers are starting to kick in, drowsiness creeping up on him and making his eyelids heavy as he melts against the cushions despite his pounding heart. When was the last time he slept? He can't remember. Your fingers are gentle as they brush his bangs back. Your touch makes his eyes fall completely closed before he feels something soft and warm pressing against his forehead. He hears a whisper of his name, a quiet sweet dreams, and then he’s asleep.

It only really feels like he blinked. when he opens his eyes again, it’s dark. The light from your kitchen leaks through the hall, permeating the living room in a soft glow. He wiggles his toes, feeling the soft blanket you draped over his legs while he slept.

He gets up slowly, creeping off the couch and across your floor. He peeks past the kitchen doorway, grinning when he sees your back facing him. You’re halfway bent over the counter with your chin resting in your hand, staring absently at the tea kettle on the stove, waiting for it to boil.

He keeps his steps quiet, walking on the tips of his toes. He sinks his teeth into his lip to bite back his smile as he leans closer, taking advantage of the fact you’re completely zoned out.

“Boo.”

You flinch, hand closing around a butterknife on your counter, still smeared with jelly from a late-night snack. You turn sharply, pointing the dull blade in his direction. He grabs your wrist before it grazes him, smiling innocently.

“Dazai,” he thinks his name sounds so pretty when you sigh it out like that. You drop the knife back onto your counter. “Should you even be standing right now? Go lay back down. I can bring you something to eat.”

The thought of you taking care of him like this ignites that warm feeling in his stomach again. An image of you as his personal nurse forms in his mind, and his insides flip at the thought. He wonders if being an executive would give him enough leniency to put you in a little white dress; surely there was one lying around somewhere at headquarters.

“What, did you hit your head too?” he whines when you poke his forehead, hard. “Are you feeling better?”

He pouts at you, gaze drifting over your shoulder to a bottle of sake on the counter. It definitely wasn’t there the last time he was here.

“Oh〜” he perks, holding the bottle up by its neck, eyes sparkling. “This is fancy! What did you get this for, hm? Some secret date I don't know about?”

“Ane-san,” your eyes narrow as he flicks the stove off, breaking the seal on the bottle excitedly. “It was a gift from her after we finished that raid in Kyoto.”

He sniffs it, then takes a big sip straight from the bottle. It leaves a pleasant sting along the inside of his throat as he swallows.

He sits himself down on your kitchen tiles, pressing his back against the cabinets, cradling the sake in his arms. There's something angelic about the way your kitchen light haloes around you as he looks up at you from the floor. 

He holds the bottle up, sloshing the liquid as he wiggles it back and forth. He pulls it out of your reach each time you try to grab it until you have no choice but to sit next to him, stretching across his lap to take it from him. You follow his lead and take a small sip from the mouth of the bottle, sighing as you sag backward. 

“What happened this time, anyway?” you tilt your head toward him lazily, gaze dipping down to his bandaged shoulder. 

“Someone had bad aim,” he sighs, holding a finger up to his temple. “Missed my head. Unlucky, right?”

You take a bigger, longer sip.

“I don't like when you get hurt, you know.”

He's relieved your head is on his bandaged blindside; he doesn’t know if he wants to see the look on your face right now. He takes the bottle from you, taking a longer sip of his own.

“Do you remember when we used to go to the beach?” he can hear the smile in your voice, and it makes his own rise on his cheeks. The two of you would always go after missions, bodies bruised and hair knotted. It was always early enough to watch the sunrise from the shore, eating a breakfast of shared instant ramen and candy stolen from the konbini down the street. 

He can only ignore the way the edge of the counter presses into the back of his head for so long, leaning his cheek against your hair and listening to you breathe. He can tell you’re getting tipsy when you start to cling to him, clumsily crawling into his lap. You insist on being the one to rebutton his shirt, swatting his hands away when he tries to do it himself. 

“Can we go now?” the curl of your lip hits him like an arrow through his heart. “To the beach? please?”

You’re so close again, looking up at him so prettily through your lashes. Your hands are warm as they rest above his heart, like you could go right through him and steal it for yourself, and he knows he could never possibly say no. 

You pick his coat up off the floor before you leave, draping it over his shoulders. You tug it a little tighter around him, nodding to yourself in satisfaction before you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers and tugging him out the door.

The nighttime air is warm and sticky, but it gets cooler the closer you get to the shore. He keeps your smaller body close to his, guard raising as you approach the edge of port mafia territory. 

The sand sinks beneath his feet with every step, and he pulls his shoes off by the heel. The waves lap calmly, dancing back and forth with no audience to watch as they tease the shore. He breathes in deep, feeling his lungs expand, inviting the salt and sand inside.

You drop limply onto the ground, laying your head on his shoulder when he sits next to you. It’s quiet, only the distant sound of traffic and the soft splashing of water.

“I wish it could be like this all the time.” you sigh. There’s a determined glint in your sleepy eyes when you look up at him. “Let's run away.”

He smiles, tilting his head toward you until your noses are close enough to brush. “And just where would you take me?”

“I don't know,” you mumble. “I don't care as long as I'm with you.”

He always thought he was born with an empty cavity in place of where his heart should be, but around you, it felt so full he could explode. He thinks if he tried to say anything right now, something icky, like the pile of seaweed he can see rotting by the water, would come out of his mouth instead.

A particularly big wave draws your attention away from him, and he frowns when you look away. It only deepens when you stand up and leave him, walking towards the ocean. He watches as you stumble down the wet sand, squealing when the water splashes against your feet. You don’t stop walking until the water is deep enough to cover your shins.

He follows you to the water, hopping on each foot over the big rocks. He’s careful not to slip, crouching on the furthest one out to keep a closer eye on you. He keeps his weight on his ankles, spreading his knees and resting his arms between them. He feels drops of salt water hit his face as the waves crash against the sea stacks, gently blowing the fabric of his jacket. 

You turn back and smile at him, holding your hand out. The moon is large and eternal behind you, taking up nearly all the space in the sky and casting a pale blue glow over the dark water. It reflects onto you, illuminating your body in soft light, and he swears he’s never seen someone look so beautiful. You open and close your hand impatiently when he doesn’t move.

“What are you doing over there?” you tilt your head. “C’mere. It’s warm.”

He doesn’t bother to pull up his pants as he slips into the ocean, letting the waves move the fabric as they ebb and flow. He looks down at himself; he nearly blends in with the water, looking black in the night. He almost thinks he’ll dissolve into it like ink and wash away into the sea. 

You beam at him as the water laps at your knees. He wiggles his toes into the wet sand and waits to feel the unbridled joy that standing here seems to cause. All he feels is goop between his toes, and he sighs in disappointment. He wants to understand why something like this made you so happy. He wants to feel it too.

“Isn’t it nice?” you smile up at him, and he wishes he could bottle it up and keep it for himself. That smile was just for him.

Don’t.

He leans closer. He can’t help it; there’s alcohol still warm in his veins, and you’re magnetic.

Don’t.

Even closer, until he can feel your soft exhale against his face, eyes big. He always thought you were the prettiest up close.

You’ll lose her once you have her .

He freezes. He doesn’t have time to completely change his mind and forget this little slip-up ever happened before you close the gap, pressing your lips against his. You’re just as soft as he imagined, gentle even when you kiss him, like he was something worth handling with care.

You pull back all too soon, looking down at where his legs disappear beneath the water.

“Sorry,” you mumble, and the watery way your voice comes out makes something ache deep inside of him. “I…I don't know why I did that.”

Oh.

He didn’t kiss you back.

He didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe. He almost wants to laugh; you really like him too. You, with your stupid smile, making his heart flutter and his stomach hurt when it’s directed toward him. You, letting him sleep in your bed when he breaks into your apartment, holding his blood-soaked hands and letting him get close, despite knowing what he was. You were so, so stupid. 

He cups your cheeks with trembling fingers, bringing you back to his mouth. This could be the biggest mistake of his life; the fact he wants you could be your death sentence, but he’s never wanted anything else so badly before in his entire, sad life. 

He thought it’d be weird to touch you like this, but it only feels right. When his hands hover over your waist, you press them into your skin, and he can’t help but think they fit perfectly there, like you were made to be held by him.

You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against his nape, and his knees nearly buckle. He thinks if they did, if he fell into the sand right now and washed out to sea, he’d be content, but you’d never let that happen. He wouldn't even be mad if you resuscitated him; nothing would be better than your lips breathing life back into him. He wonders how mad you’d be if he tried to pull that as an excuse to have another kiss.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, and then tilts your chin up to kiss you properly again, swallowing the giggle you press against his lips. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough of you now that he’s had a taste.

“Is this really okay?” you’re looking up at him with eyes bigger than the moon, glittering just as bright.

“Yeah,” he can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. “It’s okay.”

[zomb-core]

hello there.....

can you do a fic where carl has been out on a run for around 2 days (with his dad or something) and when he comes back the reader is literally in his bed sleeping soundly with their face in a pillow so he like sneaks up and lays with them until they finally wake up and just like cuddle yk

anyways yes ty i love you mwah mwah

in my arms | oneshot

pairing: carl grimes x fem!reader

synopsis: carl returns from a run to find you sleeping peacefully in his bed and decides to lay with you.

notes: fluff, fluff, and even more fluff!! timeline may be off.

Ever since the Saviors started ‘taxing’ Alexandria, the length of runs extended greatly going from maybe a few hours to a few days and sometimes even weeks. And with the deadline growing closer, Rick, Rosita, Carl, and a few others had gone out; they didn’t specify how long they would be gone, though. You had offered to tag along, partially because you were eager to help but also because it worried you not knowing how long Carl would be gone, but they declined claiming they had enough people and Rick needed someone to stay and look after Judith.

Instead, you had spent yesterday and today helping reinforce part of the wall and taking care of Judith. You were exhausted but you still managed to shower and snag one of Carl’s flannels (What can you say, you missed him). Since you were looking after Judith, you decided it would be easier if you just stayed there with her. It wasn’t like it was an unusual thing, it was your boyfriend’s house after all.

Judith was always fussy when Rick and Carl were away on runs, you typically didn’t mind, making sure to soothe her and reassure her they’d be home soon. It only became inconvenient when it was time to put her to bed. “Judith please, it is nearly midnight.” You had her perched on your hip, bouncing her softly. You could tell she was near surrendering because her crying became quieter and she had her face buried in your shoulder, and finally, she dozed off. 

You silently mouthed ‘thank you’ and placed her in her bed as gently as you could to not wake her up and tiptoed up to Carl’s room.

His bed looked so inviting and you were worn, to say the least, so you wasted no time crawling under the comforter and nuzzling your face into a pillow. You would admit, it would be a lot nicer if he was there to lay with you, but this was okay for now.

༻✧༺

The run had been cut short after Rosita had gotten a gnarly cut while escaping some walkers, she was fine overall but she did need a few stitches so they decided to head back. They reached the gates of Alexandria at about two in the morning, they hadn’t found much - a few cans of food and some bandages. They would have to go out again later in the week, but for now, they all were ready to rest.

Carl stumbled into his room, one hand working on taking off his boots and the other on opening the door. He discarded them by the door before taking notice of you. You were tangled in the blanket and had your face buried in a pillow, snoring softly. The sight of you brought a grin to his face, he hadn’t expected to see you until tomorrow so consider it a pleasant surprise.

After changing into more comfortable clothes and preparing himself for bed, he sneakily crawled into bed next to you. His hand found its way around your waist, pulling you closer so he could rest his face against your back. He was careful not to wake you, already astonished you were still asleep.

“Carl?” Well, never mind. “Is that you?”

You flipped over in his hold, coming face-to-face with him. “When did you get back?” You used your hand to cover a yawn; It was obvious you were still half asleep, probably exhausted he presumed.

“Just now, it got cut short,” He continued before you could ask any further questions, Everyone’s fine, don’t worry.” A kiss was placed between your brows. “Sorry I woke you.”

Instead of saying anything, you curled up into his chest and draped your arm over his torso allowing him to bury his face in your hair. He breathed in the scent of the shampoo you used - his shampoo, laughing to himself, he enjoyed it when you used or wore his things. Not in a weird possessive way, but rather that he liked the way it made him feel, all mushy and domestic.

You traced patterns on his waist through the fabric of his shirt, humming softly to yourself. His skin was warm, making you want to curl up into a ball and doze off, but you wanted to fight it for a few minutes more so you could enjoy his presence. He wrapped a strand of his fingers around his finger, mindlessly playing with it as he focused on the sound of you breathing. 

Carl’s lips grazed your scalp, his breath tickling your skin. It was nice to be close like this, especially after being apart even if it wasn’t for long. “Carl?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” you spoke in an audible whisper, knowing it would be the last thing you said before falling back asleep.

“I love you, too.”

a/n: I know the saviors stole their mattresses but just ignore that. I also wrote this at like 2am so ignore if it's bad or rushed plus I haven't watched the walking dead in a hot minute :cry:

I hope this is up to your standards sof, I love you, and thank you for requesting!!

@hopingforgoodblogs @shadowybasementmiracle

if anyone wants to be added to my taglist let me know!! I write arcane and the walking dead :))

divider credit to @cafekitsune

[tojisun]

sun!! i hope you’re doing well sweetheart <3

i’m on my period and feeling miserable :( i’m just imagining biker!simon and his big warm hands massaging my lower back and being my personal heating pad

i feel like he’d be so doting and sweet…and i just know his cuddles are IMMACULATE

my goodness my beloved im sorry for how late my reply to this is!! i hope ur feeling a whole lot better today :(( and that u were able to rest well hhhhh

no ur right!!! big man like simon gives out good hugs!! just, warm and comforting over all <33 // biker!simon mlist

simon leaves as soon as he can, your message still bright in his mind – im dying lol.

“Not on my watch,” is what simon replied, trying to be playful if only to distract you from your pain.

he says his goodbyes to his friends, waves at john who tells him he’ll close up the shop and that simon doesn’t have to worry about it, before walking towards the parking lot. he snags his helmet, snaps it on, and hefts himself on top of his bike.

he traces the initials engraved on his gloves before bringing up his hand to the mouth of his helmet and presses it in lieu of a kiss. then he’s off, the purr of his engine smooth as he whips against the wind.

simon’s left you on his bed today, bundled up in his sweater and underneath the blankets. you’ve been teary-eyed as you bid him goodbye, trying to assure him that your period’s not kicking your ass.

“just go, si,” you said, huffing when simon continued to stand by the edge of the bed, hesitating.

“i don’t wanna leave you when y’r like this, sweetheart,” he replied, bending down just enough to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your eye.

“you can’t just skip work, y’know?”

“if it’s for you, i can.”

it wasn’t a lie – you two knew this – but you insisted, giggling, and told him to just remember to bring snacks when he returns home. he kissed you goodbye and drove off.

simon didn’t forget his promise, of course. his bag’s full of chocolates and cookies and a pack of electrolyte drinks. he knew the medicine cabinet was stocked but simon got extra pain medications – for cramping and nausea – in case you needed more.

johnny had seen simon’s grocery bag and asked that simon tell you that johnny’s wishing you to get well soon. then, kyle and john overheard and they gave simon the extra ladyfingers stored in the break room.

simon parks his bike and almost stumbles on his feet when he lurched out of his bike. he speeds through the stairs, thundering footsteps echoing, before tearing through the fire escape door.

he fumbles for his keys, steps into his apartment, and has just enough coherence to remember to toe his shoes off, place his helmet on the counter, snag his gloves off, and wash his hands. then, simon’s back in his room. back where you are.

you’re still buried underneath his quilt, curled into yourself. simon would have cooed at how little space you are taking up on his bed but he hears you whine, exhausted face peeking out of the quilt, before weary eyes meet his own.

“i’m home, sweetheart,” he breathes out, watching as your face breaks out into a smile.

“hey there, baby,” you reply, shuffling until he sees you lift a corner of the sheets for him to crawl in.

simon doesn’t even care that he’s still in his work clothes, not when your pretty eyes are pleading him to slip in and finally cuddle with you. so he drops his bag and takes his jacket off, before slipping underneath the quilt and sliding beside you.

you’re blinking up at him as he settles in, your warm palms reaching up to caress his cool face. he hears the faint hum that rumbles from your throat and simon huffs a fond laugh at the small smile tickling your lips.

“how do you want me, love?” he asks, his own hands claiming their rightful place by your waist. he rubs at your sides the way he knows you want – smooth glides with just enough pressure, grounding you into him.

“spoonin’,” you whisper, sniffing, before turning away from him with your mind made up.

simon laughs, pressing the quiet puffs of it on the back of your head as you shimmy towards him, pressing your back to his chest, before falling putty with a quiet sigh. he loops his arm around your waist, the heavy weight of his palm falling just underneath your belly.

“lift y’r head up a bit,” simon murmurs, humming when he slots his other arm under your head for you to use as a pillow. “good girl,” he murmurs as you fall back into him.

simon fixes the sheets as you shuffle closer again, nuzzling your face onto his arm with a pleased grumble, and he barks a laugh at your sudden sneeze.

“shit, sorry,” you croak out, hiding your face behind your palms.

simon laughs. “don’t be, sweetheart.” he kisses the back of your head again. “feelin’ better?”

“a bit,” you reply, and simon trembles when he feels your fingers glide along his arm. “now that you’re here.”

jesus. you sure know how to make him ache with the weight of his love, huh sweetheart?

IT GOT TOO LONG IM SORRY!! but yea :(( i hope u are feeling better luv <333

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo, he's his own warning. Descriptions of illness and slight angst. Enemies to Lovers!, Soulmate!AU

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2, 903

A/N: I'm still not feeling great and managing to get requests written that I'm happy with has been a struggle but I was able to keep up the momentum from the last chapter to get this done. Hope you all enjoy and thank you all for your positive response to this series.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten(here) | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen (coming soon)

——————

Your fall from such a height would have meant almost certain death had it been anyone else. Luckily and unknowingly for you, Doflamingo had issued an order to one of his elite officers after your less than pleasant encounter with the three pirates in your bathroom. ‘From now on you stay with them when they’re on their own.’ It was a simple order and one Pica took with absolute severity even though there was no danger to you from the Doflamingo pirates. He was going to obey his orders loyally, never leaving anything to chance. Even when you slept he remained close by in the Palace stonework, close enough to protect you and sense your movements but also giving you the privacy you needed.

When you stumbled out onto the balcony Pica was alerted and knew something was wrong. Through the day he’d been checking on you, noticing a difference in your behaviour. Thinking it was a small cold or flu he didn’t think to alert Doffy while he was away, besides he never stayed away for long when called away by the Marines. But then you fell over the railing and Pica acted immediately. His body pushed out from the stone and his large hands held out to catch you but then your limp body disappeared when it was a hair’s breadth from his reach and a familiar flash of pink registered in his sight. Blinking, Pica looked up and felt a wash of relief overcome him to see Doflamingo had returned and you were safely in his arms as he sat on the balcony you’d fallen over. He met the gaze of his leader and when Doffy nodded, Pica retreated back into the stone.

Doflamingo watched you carefully as he controlled his breathing to its usual calm; dismissing the adrenaline rush, shake in his limbs and quickened breath to just pushing himself a little harder than usual. Travelling vast distances wasn’t anything new to him but this was the first time in a long while he ensured he broke his personal best to return home. He hadn’t known what he was expecting to find when he was nearing the Palace but seeing you fall hadn’t been on his list. Blearily your eyes opened, your usual bright and sharp gaze was hazy and dulled with pain and confusion as you managed to focus on his face. “Back early…” Your voice was so weak and exhausted that even speaking those two words left your breathing tight and rapid. “M-miss me?”

Wordlessly Doflamingo rose from the balcony and carried you back to your bed. In the short distance you were incapable of keeping your focus on anything. Your vision blurred and although your eyes stung and felt so heavy you couldn’t keep them closed for long before they were slowly opening again. You barely registered Doflamingo had you back in your bed and settled against your pillows until the intense wave of pain slammed against your skull. It was so sudden and caught you off guard that you curled in on your side, hand pressed against your head. The shock had also forced you to take a sharper breath than your distressed lungs were capable of and brought on a coughing fit, sending more and more pain through your body as you struggled to calm yourself and find your breath again. When it finally subsided your body slumped against the bed. Distantly you heard the muffled sound of your door opening and a yelp of surprise coming from outside.

“Yo-young master!” the servant squeaked as they recovered from their initial shock at the abrupt opening of the door and seeing their King appear. While his return hadn’t been anticipated until the next day it was even more shocking that he appeared from his soulmate’s bedroom. “Welcome back!”

“Shut up.” Doflamingo snapped sharply, the cold intensity rolling from his body enough to make the servant fear for their life and scramble to bow lowly. “Get the palace doctors here now.”

“A-all the-”

“Did I stutter?” The low eerie calm of Doflamingo’s deep voice caused the servant’s blood to drain from their face as pure fear caused their body to grow rigid. They didn’t want to disobey his order when he was in a good mood and they certainly didn’t want to go against him now when he was like this but they just couldn’t force their body to move. The servant flinched when Doflamingo’s hand flexed, knuckles cracking in agitation. “Maybe I need to give you the right incentive since my orders aren’t enough. Are you wanting to go to them in one piece or bloodied and broken?”

“Behave…Doffy.” At the sound of your trembling, feeble voice from the doorway, Doflamingo’s hand twisted and ready to attack dropped to his side and his head snapped to look at you leaning weakly against the doorway. You already looked worse than you had in the short amount of time since he’d caught you. Your skin looked waxy and held the sickly sheen from the effort and strain coughing and struggling out of bed had caused. Swallowing harshly you looked to the servant, managing to pant out a quick. “Go.”

Your appearance snapping Doflamingo’s overbearing aura away from the servant was enough to make the poor soul snap back to reality. Rambling out apologies, the servant turned on their heel and hurried through the corridors to the doctor’s quarters. Not caring about the time or if they were sleeping they were going to frantically bang on their doors, reporting to them all that Doflamingo needed them immediately. While the servant was gone Doflamingo strode to your side as you gripped the doorframe tightly to remain standing. He saw how much you were struggling, your fingers trembled as they bit into the wood and your legs looked like they could give out at any moment. A sour taste filled Doflamingo’s mouth as he took in the sight and considered what he was to do. Instead he focused only on his anger, that he was able to handle. “Why did you get out of bed and interfere with how I deal with my servants?”

“Like being…difficult.” You managed out before tensing as another harsh cough rose in your agonised lungs and forced itself from your lips even though the pain was so great you wished to give your lungs a break. Your breath hitched in the final harsh cough and Doflamingo tensed when blood splattered agains the white marble floor. Shakily you released the doorframe to wipe your mouth but even that was too much and your legs buckled only to stop when Doflamingo’s arm caught your waist. Weakly your hand dropped to his wrist and your head fell against his chest. Immediately Doflamingo’s body tensed, feeling how high your temperature was. “Don’t you want a better look?”

“Look at what?” Doflamingo asked tightly, his frustration mounting as the seconds went by with still no sign of his doctors.

“Me.” You sighed, lifting your head to look at Doflamingo. Everything had ebbed back enough and you felt slightly more aware but the exhaustion was getting worse. “Does it match…your dreams? Me in pain.” Doflamingo ground his teeth together, refusing to answer. Not knowing how to answer, not even sure he knew the answer. Thankfully you were too ill to notice as your eyes had already slid closed just as he heard the sound of hurried footsteps drawing closer. 

The doctors appeared, fighting off their sleep and disorientation with the sharp clarity of fear of failing Doflamingo. They slid to a stop in front of him and took in the sight of your weakened form and the blood on the floor. You winced at the throbbing pain the sound of their approach brought and cracked your eyes open enough to see you were in bed again, not even aware or having felt being moved. You managed to make out the outline of Doflamingo talking to the newcomers to your room but everything was muffled. Unable to stay awake any longer you finally fell unconscious. 

Even sleeping it was evident to everyone you were suffering. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and with a struggling, weak rattle. Your body trembled with the shakes and tremors of chills and a fever fluctuating through you, your eyebrows knit together and expression twisted into distress. Doflamingo sat in his usual seat by the window usually reserved for when the two of you shared meals together as he let the doctors conduct their examinations over you. He’d relayed to them what he’d heard at the Marine base of the illness hitting the island. The doctors under his command had already heard of the mass infection from the papers and knew what symptoms to look for with you.

A low broken whimper sounded from you and Doflamingo’s strings unleashed instantly, connecting to the doctor who held a needle against your arm and kept him firmly in place before it could break your skin. At that the other doctors froze, out of fear of making the wrong move. “Explain yourself.” Doflamingo ordered, fingers arching to tighten the strings just enough for emphasis. “Now.”

“Their body is in pain… my King.” The doctor explained. “We can’t examine them without causing some form of discomfort no matter how gently we act. It’s part of what makes this illness difficult to treat. We need to take some blood to test how far it's progressed.” 

“Can’t it be treated without the test or any needles?” Doflamingo asked sparing a glance at your pained features briefly.

“It’ll make an already difficult illness more complicated to treat.” Another doctor spoke carefully. “But between us all we could manage without needles.”

“So do it.” Saying nothing more on the subject, Doflamingo dropped the strings and let the Doctors finish their examination of you while being even more conscientious of how lightly they touched you. The last thing they wanted to risk was another close call with their King’s temper and fearsome ability. Finishing quickly the group managed to work together to quickly administer something to help your pain without waking you or bringing Doflamingo’s wrath on them. Knowing time wasn’t on their side, most of the doctors hurried to begin working on your treatment in their offices while one remained behind, hovering by the door. “What do you want?”

“Do you wish to retire to your own room?” The doctor asked unable to keep the nervousness from their voice. “Myself and the others can rotate and care as needed. You don’t need to be here.” Doflamingo remained in his seat and looked towards your sleeping form. Whatever you’d been given had helped slightly. While you still looked pained and distressed but not to the extent you had been. A rattling wheeze slipped from your mouth and the vein in his head throbbed. He recalled your weak question, asking if seeing you in pain matched his dreams, what he’d hoped for. The answer was no, nothing matched the real thing. Seeing you like this was more visceral now that he’d gotten to feel the tremor in your body and hear the struggle in your breath and see your usually strong and calm features crumpled into this kind of distress. Doflamingo turned his head away and waved at the doctor. “Just get to work.”

At the sound of the door shutting, Doflamingo rolled his neck to let it crack audibly and release the built tension before lightly knocking the wall. “Pica.” The elite officer’s form appeared slowly from the floor until he stood loyally in front of his commander. His steely gaze remained on Doflamingo who continued to look out the window, his gaze on the balcony. “Good work earlier.” He eventually spoke his praise for the usually silent officer. 

While Doflamingo didn’t specify, it was clear that had Doflamingo not been there and had Pica not been there, you wouldn’t be lying safely in your bed and the need for doctors wouldn’t have been necessary. He was reluctant to feel relief and look deeper into the feeling it brought that you still lived but still he had to commend his officer for their obedience. “Tell the others that if they need me I’ll be here for the time being.”

Left alone once more, Doflamingo reluctantly looked towards you before dropping his gaze again. Slowly he worked through the information he’d already gathered. His own doctors had told him the illness was difficult to treat. From what he gathered due to the physical pain you were in that even a needle grazing your skin caused you to react, getting treatment would be just as arduous as going through the symptoms and ailments harming you. The conversation he’d overheard with the Marines confirmed many had already died regardless. Which meant even with his doctors there was a chance you would die. 

Now begged the question why was he even bothering with letting them treat you? Wasn’t you dying what he wanted? Yes it had to be by his hand but wouldn’t it still count if he ordered those duty bound to help the sick and dying to stop? Wouldn’t that count as your death on his hands? Possibly. Immediately and unwillingly the image of his mother on her deathbed flashed into his mind. She’d suffered for so long, getting weaker and weaker until she had no energy left in her to recover and all because his father was powerless. Doflamingo gnashed his teeth together, refusing to be anything like the man. He wasn’t powerless, he refused to be and you at least deserved a better end than this. 

———

“Our main focus is the heart and lungs at present.” You slowly drifted from unconsciousness to the sound of a trembling voice. Whatever you’d been given had dulled the pain slightly but you could feel it already wearing off. “They’re taking the most strain from the illness at the moment but trying to keep things from escalating is difficult. Finding a balance is-”

“Just spit it out already.” Doflamingo’s voice was cold and sharp, his impatience palpable. 

“We can’t just force medicine down their throat and expect it to take. In order to get to our main concern there’s other steps we have to take first to ensure the treatment isn’t rejected immediately and worsen their condition while risking further deterioration. This illness makes the body fight against itself. They need to sleep and eat to keep their body strong enough to stomach the medication we need to give them but between the intense physical pain, fever, and inability to swallow it’s difficult and puts them in a vicious cycle that leads to our main concern; the heart and lungs. The stress will mount and increase the pressure and strain.”

“Is there a way to keep them asleep and give them the nutrients from food without forcing them to eat?”

“S-sir…you um instructed us to avoid needles.” The doctor’s voice grew even more frightened and meek. You couldn’t see Doflamingo’s expression but could only imagine what the doctor was facing. “Th-that limits our options considerably.”

“Doc you’re really not helping yourself here. Maybe your negative attitude is having a poor effect on your peers, hm?” Doflamingo mused. “Perhaps I should-”

Doflamingo’s threat was cut off at the sound of your pained groan. Turning sharply he saw you struggling to push yourself up with what looked like the intention of getting out of the bed, your breathing laboured and arms shaking. You blinked when you were being pulled upwards and settled against the pillows propped up behind you. You scowled at Doflamingo as he now sat on your bed, a hand firmly on your shoulder to keep you lying back. “Do I have to tie you to the bed?”

“Not tonight dear, I have a headache.” You quipped back, your voice thick with exhaustion. You took a long breath, pushed his hand away before pressing your fingers against your temple trying to relieve the blinding pain that was rushing back and through your body as the painkillers in your system finally left but it only made it worse. Groaning you dropped your hand and tried to move again, everything was just too much that you felt the desperate urge to try and get away from your own body even though you knew it was impossible. You just wanted to stop feeling so pained and ill and weak. It was just a survival instinct to protect yourself despite your own body being the issue. 

Doflamingo saw the distress overcome you and when he saw you try to get out of the bed again he acted without thinking. He pulled you close and moved so your body was against him while settling his hand against your head, moving his fingers against the spot you’d been trying to relieve. Instantly a sigh broke from you and your eyes slid closed. Stronger than the painkillers you’d been given, this removed the agony assaulting you and you fell straight to sleep, your features relaxing. Doflamingo watched the change in you with silent surprise, and released the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Finally aware he was being watched his head snapped up to see the dumbstruck doctor standing there and staring with widened eyes. “My King, I think I can confidently say we’ve found our balance.”

———————————————-

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[oldsoul007]

beautiful boy

nicholas chavez x reader

summary: your bf comes home from work and just wants to be with you

I was on the couch reading my book trying to contain my excitement for when nicholas came home.

Nicholas stumbled through the front door, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. He had been doing press jobs non-stop, flying from city to city, and the jet lag was hitting him hard. All he wanted now was to see y/n, to find some comfort in her presence.

He dropped his bags by the entrance and made his way into the living room, where he found me curled up on the couch with a book. I looked up as he entered, concern immediately crossing my face.

"Nicholas, you look exhausted," I said, setting the book aside and standing up to greet him.

He managed a tired smile, pulling me into a hug. "I am. It's been a crazy few days. I just wanted to come home and be with you."

Wrapping my arms around him in a gentle hug. Nicholas sighed, leaning into my embrace, feeling the weight of his journey melt away just a bit.

"Yeah, but I'm so jet-lagged," he murmured, his voice thick with fatigue. I pulled back slightly, looking up at him with concern.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," I said, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, adjusting the water to the perfect temperature. Nicholas watched me with grateful eyes, too tired to do much more than follow my lead.

I helped him out of his travel-worn clothes, my touch gentle and caring. I guided him into the shower, the warm water cascading over his tired body. I stepped in with him, my hands moving to wash away the stress and grime of his journey.

As we worked, Nicholas felt the tension in his muscles begin to ease. He closed his eyes, letting the soothing sensation of my touch and the warm water envelop him. "Thank you, y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude.

"Anything for you," I replied softly, my fingers threading through his hair as I washed it. The moment was sweet and intimate, a quiet connection that spoke volumes about our bond. In that small, steamy space, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of us, wrapped in a tender embrace.

I held him tightly, feeling the tension in his body. "I'm glad you're home. Come on, let's get you settled. You need to rest."

…

Nicholas nodded, grateful for my understanding. As we made our way to the bedroom, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. No matter how chaotic things got, being with y/n always made everything better.

Nicholas lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind too wired from the constant travel to fall asleep. Me nestled beside him, my head resting on his chest, our fingers intertwined.

"Can't sleep?" I asked softly, looking up at him.

"No, the jet lag is messing with me," he admitted, running his fingers through my hair. "But being here with you helps."

I smiled, me heart warming at his words. "Tell me about your trip. What was the most interesting part?"

Nicholas sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. "There was this one interview where they asked me the most random questions. It was kind of fun, actually. But honestly, all I could think about was getting back home to you."

I squeezed his hand. "I missed you too. It's been lonely without you here."

He kissed the top of my head. "I'm sorry I have to travel so much. I wish I could take you with me everywhere."

"One day," I whispered. "For now, let's just enjoy these moments together."

They continued talking late into the night, sharing stories and dreams, the comfort of each other's presence making the time pass easily. Eventually, the exhaustion took over, and Nicholas began to drift off, holding y/n close. As he fell asleep, he felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter where he went, this was home.

[bloomyeu]

i want to request a hyune soft short au please, anything u can think of!! hyun loving hours strong n barely anything to read ;(

always have time for you

pairing: idol bf!hyunjin x afab!reader

summary: hyunjin is out late working, you stay up waiting for him.

word count: 876

warnings: foolish lovers in love, mentioned kissing and a shower !!!! not edited

a/n: this made me feel single

masterlist | requests

Its midnight, you're alone, you’re bored, you're waiting. you wait with kkami and hyunjins favorite blanket. All you can think about is sleep but not seeing hyunjins cute face all day makes you wait. He's probably being a perfectionist, dancing till he's basically dragged out of the practice room. Although you weren't too sure, he could be on his way home right now.

as 12:30 rolls around you decide to text him.

jinnieeeee

where r u :p

While you reread the message, your eyelids grow heavy, and sleep starts to win the battle. You lie there, pondering how long he’s going to take to get home because the sooner he arrives, the sooner you can sleep.

An hour passes, and you check your phone.

delivered.

He hasn’t opened the message yet, but his phone is probably dead, right?

Eventually, you surrender to sleep, curling up on the couch with Kkami on your lap and your phone unplugged.

​​—

The sound of keys clanking outside the door jolts you awake. The doorknob turns, and Hyunjin stumbles in, looking like a sweaty mess. He takes off his shoes and drops his bag, resembling a zombie in his exhaustion.

Hyunjin looks at you, clearly hurt. “Baby, what do you mean I’m smelly? Me, your beautiful, hot, sexy boyfriend? Smelly? Are you smelling yourself?” He sounds both offended and comically dramatic. You’re amazed at how he has so much energy now when just moments ago he was about to crash into the bedroom door. Still, you manage to coax him into the shower.

“Hey, I’ll join you, and we can use that expensive bath bomb Felix gave you,” you suggest softly, gazing into his eyes. Hyunjin nods, and you both head to the bathroom.

“Yeah, we need to get that smelly smell off you. It’s probably there because you weren’t with me today.”

“Hey you, where are you off too at this hour?” you ask with a hint of amusement at his disheveled state.

“Sleep,” he mumbles.

“No, baby. Not yet. You need to shower; you’re all smelly,” you reply.

Hyunjin looks at you, clearly hurt. “Baby, what do you mean I’m smelly? Me, your beautiful, hot, sexy boyfriend? Smelly? Are you smelling yourself?” He sounds both offended and comically dramatic. You’re amazed at how he has so much energy now when just moments ago he was about to crash into the bedroom door. Still, you manage to coax him into the shower.

“Hey, ill even join you and we can use that expensive bath bomb felix gave you” you suggest softly, gazing into his eyes. Hyunjin nods, and you both head to the bathroom.

“Yeah, we need to get that smelly smell off you. It’s probably there because you weren’t with me today.”

The bathtub is warm and filled with so much love, he gives you a massage, you give him sweet kisses, and you both smell like vanilla and roasted almonds. you help him dry his hair while he drains the water, he brushes your hair while you brush your teeth. Both of you just taking care of each other in comfortable silence. 

“tired hm?” 

He just nods. You smile and kiss his cheek.

Once Hyunjin is nestled in your bed, where he and Kkami like to hog the space, you hand him a glass of water and a book. He drinks half and insists you finish the rest.

“You can’t go to sleep dehydrated, baby. It’s not good for you,” he says, whining a bit.

You drink it, pull the cozy comforter over both of you, and light the candle, leaving only a night light on. Hyunjin plays with your hair as he begins to read aloud, lulling both of you toward sleep.

You watch as Hyunjin’s eyes start to flutter shut. You set the book on the nightstand, and he turns off the lights. He pulls you close, almost like a koala, and wraps his arms around you. You run your fingers through his damp hair, and he smiles contentedly.

“How bad was practice today?” you whisper.

“Awful. Chan was in a mood, Minho kept snapping at Han, and Han snapped back. The tension was unbearable and made for a very unproductive day, which led to a semi-productive night alone in the studio.”

“I’m sorry. I know I can’t do much, but I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“It’s okay. I knew I had you waiting for me at home. But why didn’t you sleep? You didn’t have to wait up.”

“I can’t sleep without you, plus it’s always worth it to see you.”

“Aw, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jinnie.”

You push Hyunjin’s hair back and give him a kiss on his forehead, cheek, and finally a light peck on his lips. He pulls you even closer and buries his face in your neck.

“I really don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

When you don’t respond, he looks up to see you slumped beside him and chuckles softly before drifting off to sleep himself.

“I really don't know what id do without you yn.”

When you're unresponsive, he looks up to check to only see you slumped, he chuckles at that and soon follows you.

masterlist | requests

[moonstruckme]

Burnt Out

summary: when you're overworking yourself trying to please everyone, Remus wants you to take some time for yourself

cw: mention of not eating, exhaustion 

Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus is reading in your bedroom when he hears the door open, screaming on its hinges, and slam shut. Just that noise lets him know what kind of day you’re having, but he gets up and moves towards the sound anyway, eager to see you.

“Dove?” he calls as he enters the kitchen, where he finds you already surrounded by sandwich supplies, slathering jelly onto a piece of bread you’ve placed directly onto the counter in your rush.

You turn around at his voice. “Remus, hi!” You beam, surging toward him. 

He catches you as you stumble, clipping your hip on the corner of the counter, and a soft, sympathetic hiss escapes him. “Careful,” he murmurs, covering the spot with his hand protectively as you press yourself to his chest, your arms winding around his neck. Remus brings his other hand to the center of your back, squeezing gently, and he wishes he could pour his affection into you this way, through the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry,” you say into his neck, though he’s unsure why you’re apologizing to him. It’s your poor hip that’s been slighted. “I didn’t know you were home.” 

“I haven’t been here long,” he assures you. 

You pull back, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that feels like it’s over before it’s begun, and he tries in vain to hold onto you as you move away. You resume rushing around the kitchen, letting cabinets and drawers bang shut behind you. Ordinarily you move almost silently, always easing the front door shut behind you and moving around the apartment on socked feet, much to Remus’ amusement when he comes into the living room to find you curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and dinner already in the oven, and he wasn’t even aware you were home. But on your busiest days, you turn into this—what he’s affectionately dubbed your Tornado of Productivity—and the time it takes to be your usual quiet, careful self simply doesn’t serve your goal of functioning at maximum efficiency. You’d been in this state for the last few days, never seeming to have more than a few minutes’ break between work and school and the myriad of social obligations Remus suspects you only agree to because of the guilt you’ve associated with the word “no.”

“How was your day?” Remus asks probingly. 

You blow out a breath that answers his question before you do. “Crazy,” you admit, washing a tomato in the sink. “I had a test at noon, and I didn’t study yesterday because I thought I’d have time this morning, but then I had to go in to work.” 

He feels his brow furrow. “Didn’t you work last night?”

“Yeah, but—” you absentmindedly grab a knife from the drawer, then another, until finally you find the one you need “—Mia didn’t sleep well last night, so I told her I could take her shift.” 

“Dove.” Remus tries to keep his reprimanding tone gentle. “You barely slept last night either.”

“I know,” you sigh again, and you sound so exhausted Remus wants to seize you and swaddle you in blankets so you have no choice but to rest. Get you in bed and kiss the crease between your eyebrows until it fades away. Give you the cosseting you deserve. “But she asked for my help, and—anyway, I don’t feel great about the test since I only had a few minutes to study right before.”

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I’m sure it went better than you think.”

You flash him a kind, if somewhat forced, smile. “Thanks.” You’ve just finished the sandwiches, of which Remus now notices there are three. Three completely different sandwiches: peanut butter and jelly, ham and cheese, and something involving lettuce and tomato. He can’t imagine what you need that variety for, but he rarely understands what you’re up to when you’re this scatterbrained. Your mission nearly complete, you seem to be short-circuiting in the middle of the kitchen, standing with your hands raised as if prepared for your next task and your features scrunched up bemusedly. 

“Plates?” Remus suggests gently. 

“No, sorry—I need, um—” You shake your head as if chastising yourself. “Tupperware. I need tupperware.” You roll your eyes, seemingly at your own forgetfulness. It makes Remus feel defensive, though to defend you against yourself seems like a conflict of interests. You open the cabinet above your microwave, reaching for the containers. “Marlene and Mary want to meet, but I haven’t had time to eat since breakfast…” You appear sheepish at Remus’ exasperated look, but he doesn’t interrupt. “...so I said I’d make us all sandwiches.” 

You’re struggling to reach the tupperware, and Remus nudges you out of the way, passing them to you. “Dove,” he says, using his new proximity to set his hands on your shoulders, preventing you from dashing off again, “don’t you think you need some time to rest? You’ve had a long day, I’m sure the girls will understand you wanting to meet another time.” You bite your lip, anxious at the idea of canceling on your friends. “And,” he adds lightly, “I wouldn’t mind getting to spend some time with you too. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you the last few days.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen, so instantaneously guilty he wishes he could take it back. “I’m so sorry, Remus, you’re right. I, um.” Your brow furrows, gaze moving over his shoulder to some faraway place, and Remus can see your overworked gears turning again, your fatigued brain struggling to solve this new dilemma. “I have class in the morning, but I shouldn’t be home too late tonight if—or, I actually have about fifteen minutes before I’m meeting Mary and Marl, do you want to hang for a bit now and then maybe walk with me?”

“I want you to take time for yourself,” Remus says firmly, though not unkindly. “I’m not trying to give you another task, love, I promise.” He lets his hands drop from your shoulders to where your fingers are fidgeting anxiously, easing his own between them. “But you’re spreading yourself too thin. Marlene and Mary love you, and that’s not gonna change if you don’t always have time to meet when they do.” You slouch slightly against the counter, beginning to resign yourself unhappily to the idea of staying in, and Remus kisses the top of your head sympathetically. “You can put your sandwiches in the fridge so they stay ready for you, and I’ll make us whatever you want for dinner. Pasta?” he asks, to sweeten the deal. 

Your gaze meets his again, your interest piqued. “That sounds amazing.”

“Alright, pasta,” he says decisively, smiling at you solely so you’ll smile back. It works, and he’s pleased to note that it looks a bit less strained than before. He begins herding you towards the living room, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he imagines he can see the guilt in your eyes slowly fading away as you let them droop slightly, giving into the relaxation Remus is peddling so persuasively. “And we can watch a movie, and cuddle, yeah?”

You hum assent, releasing a little sigh of contentment as you sink into the couch cushions and giving Remus your sweetest, most adoring look as he settles in beside you, covering you with a blanket. “Thank you,” you say, packing the words with enough sincerity to make Remus’ heart ache. “I’ll try to…cut back, a bit.” 

“No one will hold it against you,” he promises, knowing you need to hear it, “and if they do, send them to me for a scolding.”

You grin. “That would be a cruel punishment, I’m not sure I could do that to some poor soul.” You tilt your chin upwards, and he meets you halfway, the kiss lingering and sweet. You brush your thumb tenderly along Remus’ jaw as you pull away, and he knows what you’re feeling before you open your mouth. The same sentiment echoes through his chest. “I love you,” you whisper, like it’s a sacrament. “Promise you’ll still love me back if I meet up with the girls tomorrow and pencil you in for after?”

Remus huffs a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Alright, love, I promise.” 

[caramelpenguin]

inspired by a prompt from here. let's assume this is in uni.

It's an open secret, but Wille will never admit how much he adores caring for Simon. His friends endlessly and mercilessly tease him for it, making kissy faces when they catch him staring, or fondly rolling their eyes when he says he's going home with Simon, or even a glance to check in when they're hanging out and Simon's head falls onto his shoulder, his curls tickling Wille's chin, and his heart is on the verge of exploding, his feelings about to erupt. But he breathes and holds it all back in.

When he arrives extra late from his bar shift, Simon is slouching on a chair, textbooks scattered around him, an empty mug and a laptop on the table. He takes a few seconds to stare, because his friend is annoyingly beautiful at all times of the day- elegant curls and soft fingers and a cutting jawline. Then, Wille sighs.

"Simon, you need to go to bed."

He groans, hands rubbing his eyes. "But this essay-"

"Can be done tomorrow, when you're not this tired." Wille grabs a scrap piece of paper to bookmark his textbook pages, and gently shuts the laptop down. "It's too late for you to function, especially when you've been sat here for the past few days." Simon grumbles something, and Wille slaps his grabby hands away from reaching the laptop. "Go get ready for bed. I'll clean up here."

After a moment, Simon squeezes his arm and stumbles when he stands, yawning as he makes his way to the bathroom. Very quickly, Wille cleans the table and organises the textbooks into a pile, humming a tune that he'd been hearing.

There's no real reason, and maybe Felice would call him out for this, but after stretching, he tip-toes to Simon's room and knocks on the door. Just to check, he tells himself.

Opening the door, he sees Simon sitting on the bed and smiling. "Thanks, Wille." He manages to say before yawning.

Wille trods into the room and makes a show of fluffing the mattress, of tucking Simon into bed, who laughs and lets himself be taken care of. His eyes are drooping when Wille realises he really has no more excuses to be near him, so he strokes Simon's forehead, heart clenching at the way he leans into the touch.

"Goodnight," he whispers. Simon says bye in response, and it's the yawn breaking through that forces him to pad to the door.

"Wille?" Simon asks as he clutches the door handle.

"Yeah?"

Simon rolls onto his side, face smudged into the pillow, voice slurred with exhaustion. "You know I have a crush on you, right?"

Wille's jaw drops. And Simon falls asleep.

[fadedin2u]

hihi, not sure if ur taking in requests but could u write a fic where ellie comforts reader?? or basically js a fluff fic/ one shot? theres not enough fluff on here and im sad i need something happy😭😭😭

yuppppp

content: you get sick, and ellie takes care of you.

warning: reader vomits (sick asf), reader is referred to as ellie’s “girlfriend”, but otherwise not specified afab or not

notes: i love a good hurt/comfort drabble and LOVE writing fluff so if anyone has any fluff requests i will write them!! also this is fairly short so oops

———

today has been hell.

you spent the day sick as hell, alone, in ellie’s little garage while ellie was on patrol. she left you in the wee hours of the morning, groaning as she pulled herself out of the warm cocoon of her bed with you, haphazardly throwing on whatever clothes (clean or not) that were in the nearby vicinity. when she got up and unknowingly woke you up as she stumbled around the room, you could feel that your stomach felt off, but you were too exhausted to do anything other than fall back asleep.

about an hour later, with sunlight streaming through the dusty window panes, you awoke again, this time due to the lurching of your stomach. you leapt out of ellie’s bed, running to her small bathroom, where you promptly emptied the minimal contents of your stomach into the toilet’s basin. you heaved a few more times until you were sure that you weren’t at risk of throwing anything else up and flushed the toilet. once you brushed your teeth with the toothbrush you keep at ellie’s, you crawled back into her bed.

even though you were no longer actively nauseous, your stomach wouldn’t settle, your body wracked with chills. you knew that you should probably go back to your own home, sleep in your own bed to not put ellie at risk of catching anything, but the thought of braving the winter snow in your state was enough to keep you where you were. you knew that you had stable duty that day, but you couldn’t even imagine getting out of bed to let your supervisor know that you weren’t fit to work today.

your eyes and body felt unimaginably heavy, and soon, you feel back into a restless sleep.

——

“babe? you feeling okay?”

you awoke to a cold hand on your forehead, and you slowly blinked your eyes open, slowly focusing on ellie’s freckled face frowning down at you.

when ellie had gotten back from a long, boring patrol, maria approached her, letting ellie know that her girlfriend had been a no-show for stable duty that morning. maria seemed more concerned than anything, knowing that you weren’t the type to skip out on work without at least a notice of some sort.

ellie’s stomach filled with anxiety and she quickly made her way to your small home, where she found an absence of you. dread coursed through her veins as she trudged quickly through the snow, back to her own garage, where she was met with relief when she saw you curled up in her sheets.

you weren’t normally the type to sleep in until 3pm, so as soon as she saw you still asleep, she knew something must be up, and when she felt the scalding heat of the skin on your forehead, she sighed.

“you’re burning up, sweetheart,” ellie murmurs, her brows furrowed as she sits on the bed next to you.

you wince, your voice rough with sleep, “yeah, that makes sense.”

“how are you feeling?”

“i feel like shit… i threw up in your toilet, but i promise i’ll clean it soon.”

ellie frowns more, “dude. don’t worry about cleaning my toilet right now. have you had anything to eat or drink?”

you shake your head and she sighs.

“i swear, i cant leave you alone for longer than two seconds or all hell breaks loose,” ellie teases, her thumb stroking your warm cheek before she stands up, “stay here.”

you huff a laugh, unable to entertain the idea of rolling over, let alone leaving. “sounds like a plan.”

ellie quickly goes to first get you a glass of water, watching you as you drink some of it, before jolting inside joel’s house, raiding his kitchen for some leftover soup stored in the fridge. she puts it on the stove to heat up, and within 15 minutes, she’s carrying a warm bowl of minestrone soup into her garage. she helps you sit up and places the soup on your lap.

you smile gratefully up at her after eating a spoonful, “thanks els, seriously. i didn’t want you to have to come back from patrol and baby me but-“

ellie cuts you off, sitting down on her bed against your side, “i’m happy to do it. i want you feeling good, and you’d do the same for me.”

you give her a look, “you wouldn’t let me do the same for you.”

ellie shrugs, “that’s because i’m an asshole. you’re not, so let me take care of you, okay?”

you roll your eyes, “oh my god… fine. thank you.”

you eat in silence while ellie leans against you, her arm wrapped around you and pulling her more into her side. when you’ve eaten as much as you can, ellie takes the bowl and places it on her bedside table.

“can i hold you for a bit?” ellie asks softly, her hand smoothing over your back.

“you’re gonna get sick, els…” you protest, but you’re already leaning into her more.

ellie scoffs, lying down with you and holding you close against her side, still rubbing your back. “my immune system is impenetrable, i swear. your weak ass flu germs can’t do shit.”

you laugh a little, your leg tossed over her body as you nuzzle into the crook of her neck. “so are you calling my immune system weak then?”

ellie gives you a cocky smile, “most definitely. puny, even.”

you punch her side softly, and she jolts, groaning, “ow! hey, i’m just stating facts!”

you roll you eyes again, giggling a little before closing your eyes and melting into the warmth of her body. “yeah, sure. we’ll see about that.”

ellie smiles to herself softly, content. “get some sleep, your body probably needs all the rest it can get.”

you hum in agreement and yawn, “yeah, definitely…”

ellie keeps tracing shapes and letters into your back as you fall back asleep, and eventually, lulled by your slightly feverish warmth, she falls asleep as well.

in the morning, when ellie is groaning about her own stomach hurting as she gets ready to tell maria she won’t be able to make it to patrol, you laugh to yourself and say nothing. this time, at least, she actually lets you help take care of her in return.

[yallthemwitches]

Bad Moon Rising

James comes back from a full moon outing with the marauders to find someone in his bed. NSFW—-Canon Compliant Oneshot

I used two of my NSFW headcanons as inspiration. Also had some visual help from the always talented @daiziesssart and @blvnk-art who draw NSFW jily so good it makes me want to cry.

NSFW Headcanons here: https://www.tumblr.com/yallthemwitches/755352465115889664/jily-headcanon-nsfw-edition?source=share

AO3 Link here!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57563776

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The sun was coming up on the other side of the mountains when the boys finally made it back inside the castle. They shuffled quietly together under the invisibility cloak. James and Sirius were now in human form while Peter rode in rat-form on James’ shoulder. By the time they had left Remus, he had curled himself into a corner in the shrieking shack and his transformation was starting to dissipate; Mme. Pomfrey would be there soon with some much needed tea and biscuits and they couldn’t have her catching wind of them. 

They stumbled through the portrait hole and ripped off the cloak. Peter transformed into human form and slumped against the nearest couch.

“The last day of the cycle is always the worst,” he groaned while covering his face with his forearms. They had been out till nearly 6am every day for the past week in order to tend to Remus and were starting to feel the effects of lost sleep. 

James trudged himself into the boys bathroom and threw some water on his face. He had dark circles under his eyes but was feeling wired. Despite exhaustion, he always had trouble getting to sleep after an outing. 

The boys climbed the steps to their dorms and Sirius flung open the door before stopping in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder at James with a smirk.

“We have an intruder again, Prongsy.”

James pushed past Sirius to see his bed curtains had been opened in his absence. Laying half covered by his duvet was Lily, seemingly sound asleep.

She had begun doing this more and more during the full moon. James had not told her the full story about Remus yet, nor about his illegal animangi form, but she wasn’t dumb. She had seemed to sort out pretty quickly that sometimes the marauders' antics were more dangerous than others.  On other nights when the boys wanted to faff about for a laugh, James was much more susceptible to folding when Lily seduced him into staying in, but on the full moon, there was no convincing him. They could be mid snog and he would pull away to leave, giving her one last meaningful kiss as he went.

“When Remus is back we need to talk to him about telling her,” James said. “I don’t think its going to be a surprise anyhow.”

Sirius and Peter both nodded and went to their respective beds. James sat on the edge of his and looked down at Lily who was still fast asleep. Hair strewn around and hugging a pillow to her body, she sighed softly in her sleep and curled her knees up.

He couldn’t deny it. He loved it when she slept in his bed. Despite knowing that she was there tonight because she was worried he wouldn’t come back or get hurt, it made her confession of love just last week seem more real than ever. If you would have asked him over a year ago, he would have never believed that Lily would have said “I love you” to him, much less crawl her way into his bed to make sure he came home safely. 

He pulled off his clothes and glasses and carefully moved Lily’s arm over to make room. From across the room, Sirius whispered from his bed.

“Oi, Prongs. Be a dear and use a muffaliato charm—-just in case.” He could hear sniggering come from Peter’s bed. 

“Don’t be jealous,” James retorted and shoved his curtains shut.

He laid down and Lily stirred. He wrapped his arm around her and she curled into his body, laying her torso on his side. 

“You’re back,” she whispered into his neck, clearly half-asleep. Her fingers reached up and curled around his lower wisps of hair. 

“I am,” James whispered back. “What a nice surprise to see you here.” She rolled herself until she was practically on top of him. Her arms snaked around his neck and she pushed her head into his chest. Despite being intimate with her many times before tonight, the feel of her body on his still made his heart race. 

“You smell like the forest,” She said as she nuzzled her face into him. “You smell like you have been up to no good.”

He could tell she had woken up a bit more. She put her chin on his chest and looked up at him with a smirk. He could see her eyes in the dark waiting for some sort of explanation. 

“Aren’t I always,” He offered in response and her eyes turned to slits. He prayed she would let that suffice for now. 

Seeing she wasn’t going to get him to crack, she wiggled her body on top of his playfully and pulled one leg to lazily wrap around his waist. 

“Well, glad to see you cheated death again,” she whispered and pulled herself up to kiss him. She deepened the kiss rapidly, nipping at his lip and pushing his mouth open to welcome the softness of her tongue. He groaned into her mouth.

She kissed her way along his jaw and stopped just below his ear to suck lightly at the skin. James hummed and let his hand wander down to her bum. He hadn’t noticed it before, but she had been sleeping in only a night shirt and knickers. He began to wonder how she had made it to the boys’ dorm completely pantsless, but became distracted by the work Lily was making of his neck. She leaned up and gave a nip at his earlobe. 

“Still don’t want to tell me what you were up to?” James shivered. Merlin, she’s trying to torture me. 

She wiggled her bum underneath his hands, making sure to push her pelvis forward into his lower half. Feeling his growing arousal, she looked up at him with a smirk before starting to kiss down his throat and towards his chest. Her hands wandered up and down his torso and arms while he laid there like he had been stunned into submission.

God, you’re so fit. Fuck… She seemed to have said it to herself, but James let out a chuckle. Ever since she had finally admitted that she had been eyeing him all this time on the Quidditch Pitch, he had become completely turned on by how turned on she was of him. 

Lily kept a steady descent downwards, stopping every once in a while to give a small nip at his skin. Once she got to his boxers, she bit at them playfully and looked back up at him with a mischievous smile. He let out a groan. She is actually trying to kill me. 

“Hmmm. If only my boyfriend wouldn’t keep secrets from me.” Her voice sounded heavy and slow. She crouched between his legs; her back arching into a U shape with her bum in the air. Her face hovered around his groin and he could feel her breath going through the cloth of his boxers. His heart pounded. It was taking all of his strength not to take her head in his hands and push her face into him. 

She slid a hand up his thigh then hovered it for a second over him before placing it over his covered erection, curling her fingers around the cloth separating them. James let out a hiss.  

“Merlin, Lils. I want you so bad. Please don’t make me beg.” He was whimpering. Lily let out a giggle, clearly enjoying herself. While she often preferred to be submissive and doted on during their shagging, she loved watching him melt under her whenever she took charge. Who knew Mr. Quidditch Captain could be reduced to nothing so easily.

Giving one last look at his blown-out eyes and his erratic breathing, she gave in. She pulled his boxers down and he lifted himself up to help her slide them off of him. Even in the dark, she could see his naked form begging for her. He propped himself up on one arm and looked down at her. Watching was always his favorite part. 

She slid both hands up his thighs again then circled his arousal. Giving him one last smile she placed a kiss on his tip before opening her mouth and taking him in. His eyes deepend and he let out a raspy moan as she slipped up and down, feeling her way around with her tongue. He took one hand and placed it softly on the back of her head and guided her in a rhythm. 

“Oh Merlin, Fuck,” he hissed. He twisted his fingers into her hair and cautiously used more pressure from his hand to guide her. Her eyes twinkled up at him, watching him moan with his mouth hanging open and eyes following her lips travel. She took one hand and wrapped it around, lightly cupping him. He let out a long hiss and his body leaned forward. 

“Godric, Lils. Your mouth. It's too good. You’re so beautiful.” He continued to rasp out affections as she continued her pattern.

She smiled a bit around him before breaking her rhythm and plunging down, taking him entirely into her mouth. She had only done this once before: during heads’ patrols with him leaning against an empty classroom table and her on her knees. Then, she had taken his hand and placed it on her neck so he could feel exactly how deep he was—-it was all it took to make him finish. 

“Lily, I’m gonna—-“ but right as he said it, she leaned back up on her heels, removing herself from him with a soft pop as she released her lips off his tip. 

She leaned all the way back and propped herself up on her elbows with her legs open to him. Despite the dark, he could see that her knickers were already wet. 

Ever since they had begun properly shagging, he had picked up on her preferences. Before, she would be perfectly happy with him finishing in her mouth or somewhere on her body. But once she felt him finish inside her for the first time, she was sold. It didn’t matter if they were pushed up against a wall in a broom closet or strewn on the floor of the Honeydukes cellar; she wanted to feel him release inside her and only there. 

James breathed sharp jagged breaths. He knew he should have expected it, but it tortured him all the same. She stared up at him expectantly . It was almost like he could hear her say come and get it.

But instead of pulling off her knickers and sliding inside her, he flipped himself to face her on his forearms and without any preamble pushed the scrap of fabric to the side and licked up her center. She dropped her head back and let out a deep moan. He continued to lick his way up and down her, stopping at the top of her clit to suck lightly. It was Lily’s turn to curl her fingers through his hair; bucking her hips up to his mouth as he continued to stroke her with his tongue. 

“Oh James, god. You always feel so good,” she breathed out, barely above a whisper. He dragged his tongue down over her opening and continued behind. She lifted her hips for him to get a better reach and gave her a swift nip on the soft curve of her bum. She let out a choking giggle before guiding his head with her hands back to her center. 

She pushed her head into the mattress, making a soft humming sound. Her mouth hung open and her hair was now splayed off the foot of the bed. James yanked the fabric of her knickers farther away as he made his way back to her clit, leaving light kisses on the inside of her thighs. 

He could feel her body start to shake a bit. Her hips started to move in a circular pattern against his face and he moved his tongue to match her. He knew she would be coming soon. Right when he felt her hand curl tighter into his hair, he pulled back, giving her one last kiss on her pelvic bone before rolling up on top of her to kiss her.

“No fair, I was so close,” She whined into his mouth. She could taste herself on him. She knew how much that turned him on. 

“You did it to me,” he countered. 

“Well then, will you at least shag me?” 

They both simultaneously clawed at her knickers until they slid off her legs and she ripped her sleeping top off, revealing she had nothing underneath. Immediately latching on to her breast with his mouth, he thrusted into her. She let out a small gasp that melted into a moan as he started pumping into her. 

He brought her knees up to his sides and they both watched where he entered her for a while; both of them with their jaws hanging open and making their own hums of desire. 

James placed a hand on one of her breasts and rubbed his thumb and forefinger around the blunt tip, the other hand held both of Lily’s up over her head in a barely bonding position. 

Lily spouted affirmations under her breath with every thrust. 

“Oh James, it feels so good. Please—-harder.” He complied and she let out small shrieks of delight. James placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her sounds—-it wasn’t completely lost on him that they were still in a room full of his mates. 

Lily started to shake again underneath him. Despite wanting to throw her head back, she forced herself to stare deep into his eyes, cheeks flushed and mouth agape. 

“James, I’m going to cum.” She barely gasped out. 

“Keep looking at me, I want to see you,” he growled. He thrust harder. 

She released with a gasp. She clenched at his shoulders and her eyes widened; flooding from her orgasm. 

She fell limp on the bed for a moment, chest heaving and flushed, before picking herself back up and catching James’ mouth with hers. 

James sat back on his heels, out of breath. “Merlin, you are so beautiful. If you are tired we can sto—-,”but Lily cut him off with a kiss. 

“I want to watch you come now,” She whispered and then pushed past him to get to the top of the bed. Positioning her hands on the backboard, she put herself into a tabletop position and looked over her shoulder at him expectantly. 

Fuck. Fuck.

They had only just started doing this position and they both knew it wouldn’t be long for him to come. He turned himself around until he was lined up with her, and swooped down to give her a kiss on her spine before pushing into her again. 

He almost immediately collapsed on her by how good it felt. 

“Oh god. Lily. You are so tight.” Lily chuckled a bit and sat up slightly to reach around and grab his neck. He held her torso up while thrusting into her. She arched her back, pushing her bum into him and giving him a better entryway. 

He didn’t hold back. He thrust hard and fast, feeling his body race towards release. Lily’s whispers got louder as he went deeper, finally reaching a questionable speaking tone.

“I’m so close,” he choked out. 

“Come inside me. I want to feel you cum, Prongs.”

She had never called him that before. He made a loud moan and he released inside of her. Still holding her torso against him, his body twitched around her as she peppered kisses onto his face. No longer able to hold both of them, he collapsed on top of her, both on their stomachs. 

After a moment of heavy breathing, he spoke. 

“You’ve never called me Prongs before.” Lily smiled against the mattress. 

“Thought you would like it,” she said. He placed a few kisses between her shoulders. 

“Like is an understatement.”

______________________________________________

The sun was already up when they had fallen asleep, so it couldn’t have been but a few hours later when Lily started tugging at the back of James’ hair. 

“My love—James—-we have class…” James growled in response and turned farther away.

Lily kissed his shoulder and tugged at his ear. 

“At least make an effort. You are head boy after all.” He groaned and turned over, grabbing her waist and throwing her back on the bed.

“If you stay here we can shag again and then say we had important Heads’ duties to do.” He raised his eyebrows at her.

She laughed and pushed him off of her. “You wish, Potter. Besides, all your mates wouldn’t believe it.”

She reached over the bed and pulled her clothes from off the ground, including the missing pair of pants James had been curious about the night before. She poked her head out of the curtains before throwing them open. 

“Good, they’ve already left. See you at breakfast.” She stuck her tongue out at him before closing the door behind her. 

James threw his head back on the pillow and groaned. 

James sat down next to Lily at the breakfast table with a huff. Sirius and Peter sat across from them looking downright wrecked—-all three boys had dark circles under their eyes and none of them dared to so much as crack a joke for the first 10 minutes. 

Sipping his cup of tea, Sirius finally broke the silence.

“James, I have a question.” James groaned dramatically. 

“I’m too tired for it, Pads.” Sirius continued.

“What is your grade in charms?” James rolled his eyes and took another bite of toast. 

“Dunno—-my last Charms NEWT score was an O…” Sirius put his cup down gingerly on its saucer before leaning back in his seat with his arms folded. 

“Interesting—-then why in the bloody fuck can you not perform a muffaliato charm—-again.” Lily smashed her tea cup onto her saucer and stood up quickly. Her face was bright red. 

“I-I got to go to class,” she said, turning swiftly and striding toward the door. James stared at his mate who, despite feigning a stern attitude, was clearly getting too much enjoyment from embarrassing the couple. 

After a beat, James collected himself.

“I told you not to be jealous.” Despite wanting to play it cool, James was having a hard time looking at his mates. 

Sirius barked out a laugh. 

“And to use your nickname--to get off. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Please don’t bring it up—I just keep hearing her say it over and over again,” Peter squeaked. “Don’t think I can ever call you Prongs again without hearing her say it.”

Sirius patted Peter on the back in consolation. 

“Oh fuck off, mates,” James retorted, but when Sirius began again, Lupin trudged his way up to the group and slumped down at the table. Besides looking a bit peaky, he overall seemed back to his normal self. 

“What did I miss?” He looked around at his mates who all looked like they had spent the night with a dementor.

“We need to tell Lily about you,” Sirius blurted out. Lupin squinted at him. 

“Ok—-I mean, I’m ok with that—as long as we all agree. But why exactly is this coming up so suddenly?” He lit a cigarette and conjured some tea his way. 

James opened his mouth to speak but Sirius put a hand out to stop him. 

“Because James is using the secret as some kinky shag tactic and he’s much too happy to share it with us.”

Lupin didn’t look up from his tea. He took a drag of his cigarette and blew it out before very carefully standing up from the table. 

“I’m going to go back to sleep now in the dorms—away from whatever the fuck you all are up to.” And turned to walk away. 

“Make sure Lily is not there—-or it will happen to you!” Sirius yelled, causing students from other tables to turn. James placed his head into his plate with a groan. So much for having Lily sleepover more often.

[cherie-doll]

GAHHHH imagine Alejandro(or anyone you want I’m just having Alejandro brain rot) coming home after a mission he almost died on, being so tired and exhausted, and us just straddling him, holding his face, kissing all over his cheeks, his (big ass) forehead, nose and finally his lips, all while rubbing his shoulders becauses bro went through the wringer today.

I need to kiss him I carnally need it </3

you're so real for that word vomit incoming

IMAGINE Alejandro walking through the door, the hour is late. He’s stumbling over his feet trying to take his shoes off. He’s tired, exhausted of the pace he’s had to keep up with for the past days. He’s zoned out, heavy bags under his eyes, his mind fuzzy and a deafening ringing noise that won’t stop. His mind is a reflection of the environment he’s been in. You’ve been missing him so bad, you couldn’t even sleep properly without him. You’d curl up on his side of the bed, clinging to anything that had even a small remnant of him. You even searched for a shirt of his that he’d left behind and hadn’t been through the laundry yet close by. The smell only serving to a burning wound in your chest. Now you’re in front of him in an instant and embrace him. He didn’t even process your presence fully until your arms wrapped around him. Instead of bringing his arms around you he slouches in your arms, losing himself in your warmth. All fear and restraint gone. You step back and lower him onto the couch, his breath grazes your neck, tickling your ear as he buries his face into your neck seeking comfort. With a limp hand he lazily takes yours in his and intertwines fingers. In this moment, he searches for any way to be close to you, to be in the softest touch of your fingers. You want to somehow convince him to instead rest in bed on the soft silk duvet, but his body which now rests between your legs is loose. Incoherent mumbles slip through his lips as he tries to explain why he’s like this. You gently shush him. Your hands rest on his strong back that heaves up and down with every breath he takes, the ragged fabric of his shirt slides between your fingers as you trail up until you reach his nape, you can feel him tremble slightly under your touch. The first skin to skin contact you’ve had in a while. Cradling his face between your hands you bring him close and lightly press your lips against his forehead. By the subtle flutter of his eyes you are provoked to keep pressing tender kisses over his face all the while he basks in your affection.

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick sighed as he dragged himself up the stairs, eyes dry and gritty.  He hadn't slept properly all week and he finally, finally had a weekend off.  All he wanted to do was sink into bed.

There were several downsides to not being a corrupt ass-kisser in the Bludhaven PD, and one of those was that his captain hated him.  He was pretty sure Redhorn would love if he expired of exhaustion, but Dick wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction.  He joined the police to do good, not take money and look the other way, and he wasn't going to let anyone bully him out.

Unfortunately for Redhorn, Dick was also damn good at his job, and overbooking his schedule was about the only thing the man could retaliate with.

It took him three tries to get the key in the lock--he was tired enough that his vision had started to go hazy, and every second he stayed slumped against the door increased his chances of falling asleep on his doormat--and he yawned jaw-creakingly wide as he stumbled inside.

Bed.  He was so close to sleep.  He didn't care if it was eight in the morning, that was what blackout curtains were for.  He was just musing on whether he should choke down a microwave meal so he wouldn't wake up feeling like his stomach was trying to digest himself when he saw the guy with the gun.

Dick, three steps into his living room, froze.

The guy with the gun smiled.  Before Dick could reach for his own gun, or drop to the ground, or let his sleep-deprived instincts catch up to the danger of the situation, his exhaustion-addled senses noticed the second guy with the gun.  And the third.  And the fourth, though this guy didn't have a gun pointed at Dick, he was just casually poking around Dick's bookshelf like breaking into a cop's home to examine his interior decorating was something he did on a casual Tuesday.

Was it even still Tuesday?

"Detective Grayson," the silver-haired asshole examining the pictures on his bookshelf said, not even turning to look at him.  "Can I trust you not try anything stupid, or do you need to be disarmed?"

Dick's fingers twitched to his gun, but he didn't think he could unholster it and fire before the other three did, not with his current level of exhaustion.  He mentally mourned the loss of his planned sleep.  "Depends on why you broke in here," Dick said evenly.  There was no cover between him and the door, so he couldn't even head out that way.

"If I meant to kill you, Detective Grayson, you'd be dead," the man said, finally turning around.  "Come in and have a seat."  One ice blue eye glittered dangerously.  "Get comfortable.  You look like you've had a long day at work."

Dick's heartbeat was pounding in his ears, everything abruptly clearer with the sudden surge of adrenaline.  He did as he was told, crossing the room slowly and sitting stiffly on the sofa, never moving his gaze from the tall, broad, one-eyed man smirking at him.

"You have a lovely family," the man motioned to the pictures.  "They seem very happy."

Dick resisted the urge to curl his hands into fists.  "Is that a threat?" he asked as evenly as he could.

"A threat?" the man looked amused.  "You're certainly very paranoid, Detective Grayson."

"One of the biggest mob bosses on the East Coast is holding me at gunpoint in my own apartment," Dick said tersely, "I think it's justified."

Slade Wilson shrugged, as if to say can't argue with that.  He turned back to the pictures, as though he was studying them, and Dick went tenser.

Bruce was rich, he reminded himself.  They had security.  Tim was resourceful, Jason was destruction on two legs, and Dick pitied the poor fool that tried to kidnap Cassandra or Damian.  They would be fine.

"No," Slade said finally, "it isn't a threat.  Merely an observation.  Family is important, isn't it?"

Dick forced his racing heart to slow down.  "What are you doing here, Wilson?" he said, just shy of a growl.  "Cut it with the cryptic bullshit."

Slade arched an eyebrow, but Dick didn't take it back.  He was already being held at gunpoint in his own home, he wasn't sure his situation could get much worse.

"I came here," the mob boss said, "because I have a case for you--"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"No," Dick repeated, keeping Slade's gaze even when he felt like flinching back at the dark scowl on his face.  "My loyalty isn't for sale, Wilson.  I'm not going to take your money, and I'm not going to be your lackey."

Instead of being met with a bullet to the head, Dick was met with, shockingly, a smile.

"I'm not asking you to do anything other than your job, Detective Grayson," Slade said, retrieving an envelope from his side pocket and tossing it onto the coffee table in front of Dick.  "There's been a kidnapping--"

"Go to the station and file a missing persons report," Dick said evenly, not picking up the envelope.

"Unfortunately, circumstances require discretion," Slade said, expression darkening again.

"And half the department is in your pocket," Dick argued.  He’d found that out the hard way when he’d been forced to watch as Grant Wilson strolled out of the interrogation room with a smirk.  "Why did you decide to come to me?"

Slade was silent for a stretching moment, and then he sighed.  "There's a traitor in my organization," he said plainly.  "I don't know who it is, and unfortunately, that means there's very few people I can trust.  In the absence of those whose loyalties may have been shifted," Slade pushed the envelope closer to him, "I decided to find a cop that was loyal to his job."

Dick kept Slade's intense gaze for a moment longer before reaching for the envelope.  "I'm not going to do your dirty work," Dick reiterated, pulling out the papers inside.  "If this person hasn't been kidnapped and doesn't want to be found, I'm not--" his words trailed off into empty air when he saw the photos.

A young girl, not yet a teenager, scowled at him in the first picture, hair the same color as the man she was sulking next to.  The second, third, and fourth pictures showed the same girl, but tied up and gagged, her surroundings dark, looking up with wide, bright eyes at the camera.

"My daughter has been missing for five days.  They've increased the ransom demand twice."  Slade's expression is a mask of fury, but Dick can hear the desperation in his voice.  "They're hurting her."  Dick withdrew more papers, all the evidence that Slade had apparently collected.  "I don't know who was involved, and I'm not going to risk my daughter's life on it.  Can you find her or not?"

Dick looked again at the first person.  'Dad & Rose' had been scrawled on the back of it, and despite the sulking of the preteen, Dick could see her leaning into her father's side.  "Yes," Dick said quietly.

"Great," Slade said.  "You have twenty-four hours before the ransom drop."  Wait, what?  "And if anything happens to her, Grayson," Slade's expression was colder than ice, "I will ensure you share her fate.  Do you understand?"

Dick swallowed and nodded.

~#~

Twenty-four hours.

The first thing Dick did once all the criminals were out of his apartment was set a timer.  The second thing was to scarf down a microwave meal as he glanced through the evidence and wrote down preliminary thoughts.  The third thing was to take a nap, because Dick was going to get nowhere on fumes.

Eight hours later, Dick felt marginally more human.  Unfortunately, he was also a third down on his time limit, and most of his previous notes were utter gibberish.

Dick took a deep breath, put aside the indirect and direct threats of a mob boss that had broken into his home and held him at gunpoint--Dick was moving after this--and thought about this logically.

Rose Wilson had been kidnapped five days ago.  The fact that she hadn't been found already meant that the mob's resources couldn't find her.  Slade said that he hadn't contacted anyone in the police department, so police resources hadn't been exhausted.  However, if Dick treated this like any other missing persons case, he ran the risk of tipping the kidnappers off and getting a bullet in the head.

Dick checked the time.  Fifteen and a half hours left.

Maybe--maybe he was looking at this the wrong way.  Slade had mentioned several offhand things--if they were all connected, that would give Dick a starting place.

So.  Assume there was a traitor in the Wilson Family.  Assume that they were working with corrupt cops.  Assume that they had used police resources to snatch Rose Wilson.

Dick needed to get to the precinct.

He made it all the way to his building entrance before halting in the street.  There was an expensive black car parked--illegally--right in front of him.  One tinted window rolled down, and Dick met Grant Wilson's unamused expression.

"Get in," the other man ordered.

Dick wanted to point out that he didn't work for the younger Wilson, but getting into a shootout on a busy street seemed like a spectacularly bad idea.  Plus, the clock was ticking.

"Where are you headed?" Grant asked, voice terse.

"Precinct," Dick responded warily, but all Grant did was nod and pull into traffic.  "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think, asshole?" Grant gave him a dirty look.  "You spent nine hours in your apartment.  Did you find Rose?"

Dick decided not to tell him that he'd been asleep.  "Your father told me I had twenty-four hours until the ransom drop," Dick pointed out.

Grant jerked the car to a hard stop and turned to glare at him, eyes burning.  "That's my baby sister that's missing, you fucking pig, so you're going to get one thing straight," he hissed, not noticing or not caring that Dick's hand had immediately gone to his gun.  "If there is so much as a single hair missing from her head, I'm going to make personally sure that you regret it for the rest of your miserable and agonizing life, do. you. understand?"

Dick met his vitriol with artificial calm.  "Was that supposed to incentivize me to work with you?"

Grant growled, actually growled, and Dick remembered that antagonizing the guy rumored to have a hair-trigger temper was not the smartest of plans.

"Look," he interrupted before Grant could speak, "I said I'd help, and I swear, I will do my best to find your sister.  Which means going to the precinct to follow up on my lead, unless you think that being threatened is a better use of my time."

Grant's glare didn't diminish, but he did start the car again.  Dick sat there in silence and wondered how the fuck he was supposed to explain this to anyone.  Sorry, Internal Affairs, I was briefly held hostage by the Mob, but instead of reporting it, I investigated one of their cases and continued working with them.  Redhorn would have a field day if he learned about this.

"So what's your lead?" Grant asked tersely.

Dick decided not to point out that they were going fifteen miles above the speed limit and answered the question.  "I'm going to check if any of the cops have been investigating you guys recently.  If you're worried about a traitor, I thought it was a good place to start."

Grant didn't seem to think so, between the mutters of "Jesus, did Dad tell you everything?" and "it took you nine hours to come up with that, genius?" but he dropped Dick off a street away from the precinct.

"Fifteen hours," he reminded Dick with a glower as Dick slipped out.

The precinct was marginally more tolerable.  Dick made up an excuse that he needed to check something for a case, and it looked like most people bought it.  Redhorn, of course, continued scowling at him from his office, but Dick ducked quickly into the records room, where it didn't take much to sweet-talk the sign-out list from the records keeper.

It turned out that there were a lot of people in here looking up records for cases Dick was pretty sure they weren't working on.  But checking the sign-out list for the last month, there was only one who'd checked the Wilson Family open cases.

"Well, I always knew you were a bastard," Dick murmured, staring at Redhorn's name.