#I’m still alive but barely draw Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[ask-claus-and-ninten]

3 am life sign. Of the Ness and Claus being dudes.

Inspired by photos from my days in university years ago 🤧

I didn’t have a couch in my apartment. My friends just hung out on the floor and the blankets my roommate had out.

[cuteniaarts]

Wine stains on porcelain

(Alternatively: @katkastrofa and I have created 5 OCs in 3 days and I suffer from chronic “I wanna draw the little guysssssss” disease)

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[alisblackgf]

YO ZAC WELCOME BACKKKKK,

But yk I got a request 🤞🏽

Earth-42!Miles with fem!spider-reader

Like reader was from 1610!miles universe but when he went to earth-42 she went with him and maybe like there was a prowler!reader in 42!miles universe but she died and hes like “look at the power you had here…with me”

(The rest up to you…yk how I like it zacy 😏)

YEAH OFC <3

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: earth-42!miles x fem!spider!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst(?)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in his universe, you’re dead. it’s not fair that some inferior version of him gets to have you alive and well while he’s stuck grieving you. he makes it his number one priority to show you what you could have with him. what you had.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: inhales exhales i don’t like this and idk if i did him justice but HOPEFULLY I DID. it’s a little messy idk if i did this right HELO i hope you like it anyway (shout out to rae for helping me with the spanish 🫶)

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: hermosa - beautiful; tú eras mi vida y mi mundo - you were my life and my world; mi amor - my love

you woke up in a daze.

your surroundings were dark with only a little illumination coming from a small window. you tried to get up, but you were quickly dragged back down to notice you were tied to a pole. the more you pulled against it (to no avail), the more you lost hope.

you took a shaky breath and looked around the room to find miles tied up on a punching bag. he didn’t look conscious. his head is hung low and you could barely see his closed eyes. your heart dropped and made it your mission to get his attention.

“miles? miles!”

then, your spidey-sense goes off.

you hear footsteps drawing closer and closer to you, and you desperately try to break free from the pole.

“i wouldn’t wake him just yet, hermosa.”

your eyes widened as you looked back at miles, who was still knocked out. you were extremely confused at who was talking to you. they sounded just like your miles, but it wasn’t. you were about to speak, but then the mystery person came out of the shadows and kneeled down to see you.

it was..miles? but not your miles for sure. this miles had braids, and judging from the term of endearment he called you earlier, he could for sure roll his r’s. he gently took your face in his hands and scanned you for any sign of injury. when he makes sure you’re fine, he smiles at you.

“you’re just as beautiful as i remember,” he says.

“i’m sorry?” you ask, seeing as you’ve never met him in your life.

he sighed at your words and untied you from the pole. when your hands are free, you rub your wrists in an attempt to ease the soreness that enveloped them. you tried to shoot a web, but you soon notice that your web-shooters are gone.

“c’mon, mami, you don’t think i’m dumb, do you?” he chuckles at your attempt before untying your feet, and you stretched your legs in response. once he’s up, he holds out his hand to you. you hesitantly accept. he helps pull you up from the floor and you dust yourself off.

he looks at you before asking, “i’m assuming your name is (y/n)?”

you nod in response, looking a little concerned before saying, “how’d you know?”

“because that’s what my girl’s name was, and you look and sound just like her.”

“your girl?” you ask curiously. he nods and shows you a polaroid picture of him and a girl. he was right, she looked exactly like you. “why isn’t she here?”

his facial expression went from relaxed to serious. he sighed before speaking, “she’s dead.”

your eyes widen. you know you’re not his (y/n), but hearing that a version of you is dead sends shivers down your spine.

“tú eras mi vida y mi mundo, (y/n). you were taken from me for the same reason you save people now.”

“and what’s that?”

“your compassion,” he says with a slight bitterness to his tone. “you cared so much for people. too much. i shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.”

you listened eagerly. even if she wasn’t you necessarily, you were still curious to hear how a variant of you died.

you put your hand on his shoulder and nodded, and he took it as a sign to continue.

“we were handling business. two guys had crossed us. i was taking care of one, you were with the other. he was begging for his life, and you showed him kindness and spared him. then, he..”

you could hear his breathing getting shaky, and you began to rub his shoulder.

“you don’t have to finish, i— i get the gist of it,” you assure him.

he nods and pulls you into a hug. you hesitantly hug him back, feeling bad for him. once you wrap your arms around him, he whispers to you, “i’m never letting you out of my sight again, mi amor.”

your breath hitches and your eyes widen.

“i’m so, so sorry for your loss, miles. but i’m not her. i don’t belong here,” you try to reason. you hear shuffling on the punching bag and you can see miles—your miles—stirring awake.

“miles! you’re okay!” you gently move the other miles off of you and run to your miles.

“for the most part,” he tries to joke.

“i don’t think you get it,” earth-42 miles begins to speak. you turn away from your miles to look at the other one. “you had so much power with me, (y/n).”

“what’s this dude on about?” earth-1610 miles whisper-asks you, but all you can do is shrug in response to him.

“look, i’m sorry that your girlfriend died, but i’m not her, and i never will be,” you spat, getting annoyed.

“i’ll give you two options,” the other miles begins. “you can die with bug-boy here, or you can come rule the streets with me.”

your eyes widen as he walks over to you guys, now in a prowler suit. he puts his gauntlet on and shoves you out of the way, putting his hand around your miles’ neck, choking him.

“pick your poison, mami. let’s hope you make the right choice.”

I REALLY HOPE I DID HIM JUSTICE OMG

tags: @pr0wlerpunk

[trashogram]

He Chose You (P. 4)

Lucifer/Reader - Lucifer picks you to be his baby mama. Rated E

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

You’re resting against the trunk of a tree at the top of a little hill.

It’s picturesque — the hill is gentle, sloping down to a field of tall yellow-green grass. You can smell it, wafting up with the pollen from golden flowers. The sky above is alive with pinks and oranges bleeding into yellows and whites. A symphony of coos, chirps and pitter-patters of tiny things skittering around have an oddly calming effect as you settle back and allow yourself to exist. 

Eyes closed, you hear the sound of something larger than a mouse rounding the tree trunk. 

“I got it!” A feminine voice breaks the calm.

You don’t have to look to feel the other person at your side. They lower themselves to the ground, knees brushing against yours when they cross their legs to sit next to you. 

You don’t have to look, but you do. 

There’s a woman with you now, with hair so long and blonde it’s almost white. Her chin, lips, nose, and eyes are delicate and soft.

She’s not wearing any clothes, and you can see faint scars and wrinkles against the uninterrupted expanse of her skin. 

“It’s so pretty, I’ve never seen one so red.” The woman is happy to see you, speaking with all the familiarity of a sister. 

She presents an apple to you, taken from behind her back like a surprise. 

It is red. Red like an oversized ruby, or a still-beating heart full of blood. All except for the missing chunk made by delicate teeth, yellow-white meat peeking through.

You accept her offering without a word. Even when it’s imperfect, you’re mesmerized by the fruit.

“I took a bite. I’m sorry.” She gazes at you, eyes flinty. “Does that bother you?”

You shake your head vehemently, holding the apple between your hands as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “No, of course not.”  

The woman’s lips quirk up into a satisfied smile, growing bigger when you lift the apple to your mouth and bite into it. The taste is extraordinary — sweet juice bursts against your tongue when the crisp flesh gives under your teeth with barely any resistance.

You savor the first bite out of necessity but soon you’re ravenous. You can’t get enough. 

Your companion exhales gently through her nose and looks up at the colorful sky. She seems to relish in the breeze that passes by, making the leaves above you rustle and the tall grass ahead blow back quietly. 

The apple is almost gone when she looks back at you, teeth showing as she grins. “Careful there!”

She giggles, reaching out to tap the hand of your hand in warning. It’s all playful, even when you pout and draw back. 

“You’ll eat the seeds if you keep that up.” She says. “Something might take root and grow if you do.” 

Her words give you pause, but only for the length of four or five heartbeats. The core of the apple is no less refreshing and before you know it, you’re holding the stem. 

“Thank you.” You tell her earnestly. 

The stem rolls in your palm, until it appears to wiggle and your brow furrows. In the back of your mind, you think you should be more startled to see it moving on its own. But when it grows pink-gray and ringed, and you realize it’s a worm, you simply place the flat of your hand on the ground below and watch it find its way into the dirt. 

Sudden warmth against your cheek has you looking back up. The woman is inches from your face. Her eyelashes are dark and long and you could count them if you wanted. 

The woman kisses you without a word, hands coming up to cup the back of your head. Surprise does spark up your spine as her tongue darts behind your lips. It’s as if she’s drinking deeply from you before she lets go. 

“Forgive me. I wanted another taste.” She giggles again. “It’s even sweeter than I remember.” 

Your face burns. You open your mouth, ready to ask the questions burning the tip of your tongue before the thud of footsteps sound from behind you. 

She frowns, light leaving her eyes as she glances behind your shoulder. “Oh I was hoping we’d have more time.” 

Her eyes cut across to yours. “Wake up before he sees you!”

———

A wave of pure, unadulterated nausea swept over you as soon as you opened your eyes. You laid still for a long moment, trying to reign in the urge to vomit before you deemed it safe enough to observe your surroundings. 

A vague sense of confusion surfaced through the malaise when you realized that you were in your living room. There was a carmine blanket tucked around you, and with moderate difficulty you raised your head to see that, yes, a fluffy pillow was resting under your head.

Your reality conflicted with the still-present smell of tall, wet grass and a chill from the summer breeze against your skin.

With ridiculous care, you turned your head back into the pillow and muffled a whine. You couldn’t recall feeling a hangover of this caliber ever before in your life.

‘Wait.’

You weren’t hungover. Well, maybe you were but not from alcohol. 

Your neighbors had invited you to dinner, then drugged you. 

Already sick, you forced yourself to breathe deeply before shifting on the couch and pulling up the blanket. Despite confirming that your body was still clothed, you found yourself shaking. 

It didn’t make sense to you how anyone could do this regardless of their intentions. You could not fathom why two people willing to harm you in one way hadn’t done more than that. 

Your relief was short-lived, as dull and diluted as it was, when you twisted to lay back down and came face-to-face with:

A black glove, some aspirin and a glass of water sat on your coffee table.

You blinked rapidly.

There was a small business card in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless ensemble. It was thick stock, white, and flashing fancy golden script:

Lucifer Morningstar

Your stomach dropped as an unnaturally white face with glowing yellow and red eyes flashed in your mind. 

The hallucination you’d seen last night — his image faded from your mind and you were left drifting in a blank, black void. 

No thoughts. 

———

The headache and nausea were considerably lesser when you woke up again. 

Looking at the items on your coffee table — ‘glove, aspirin, water still there’ — you looked at each one and for one, strangely hopeful moment you didn’t see a card. 

Oh no, it had just fallen on the floor. 

———

Lucifer Morningstar 

It was an odd business card, with its little red, white and gold designs on the edges. Fireworks, you eventually guessed. The ‘i’ in both first and last name were punctuated with them as well. 

As you’d popped the aspirin in your mouth and downed the water, you flipped the card over. You could feel your eyebrows rising to your hairline at the hastily written message on the back:

Proof you weren’t dreaming. 

Please Call Me

1-666-666-6669

Pacing was out of the question. Your limbs were still unsteady no matter how much you willed them to function. 

You were trapped on the couch trying to accept what your brain had been screaming at you since you awoke for the fifth time. 

How much time had passed? 

                                      Heaven and Hell were real, and so were God and the Devil. 

            And the Devil had paid you a visit. 

———

The indent you’d made into your stupid, hand-me-down sofa was probably permanent now that you’d spent who knows how long just rotting there. 

Contemplating, processing, fearing. 

Fleeting memories of tantrums you’d thrown as a child paralyzed you. Moments in your life that you’d already regretted so much they kept you up some nights — randomly, provoked by nothing — piled up in your brain. Each one harshened that sinking feeling inside your body. This kind of horror was the kind a person feels right before they die. 

How long have you been judged from above for your wrongs?

Were you already doomed to Hell? Is that why Lucifer himself wanted ‘to meet’ you? Did he make it a personal habit to visit each lowly sinner and taunt them?

God was real, so did everything actually happen for a reason like so many said? 

Why did bad things happen to good people? 

Was your dog in heaven, waiting for you and you’d already disappointed her by getting a one way ticket in the opposite direction?

———

You figured out that the ringing in your ears was actually your phone’s alarm when the natural lighting in your apartment was almost gone. 

You managed to get to it on the other side of the room half-stumbling from your seat. 

“Hello?” You rasped.

“… So you finally decided to answer your phone.”

———

It took you banging on the door and shouting against its old, glossy surface before Cass Farrow cracked it open. 

A myriad of expressions crossed her painted face before she opened the door fully. When she faced you, she smiled. 

“Honey! It’s been days! We didn’t wanna bother you but we were worried! It’s good to see you up and about!” 

The way she acted, as if nothing was wrong, as if the world had turned upside down, had you balling up your fists. Your ragged nails delved into the skin so deeply you could feel the sting of blood.

“I-I need…” You couldn’t stop the copper taste of saliva filling your mouth. 

You would not throw up. “I need to speak to your boss.”

Cass blinked owlishly at that. “My what?”

‘Why? Why? Why are you shocked?’ You shouted in your mind.

“Oh honey,” The low tone did nothing to soothe you, only raise your ire. “I don’t know what —” 

“The Devil!” Your raised voice made the elderly woman jump. “Or Lucifer, or Baphomet — whatever the fuck you call him! I need to talk to him.” 

You scrambled to grab the business card you’d stashed in your pocket. 

“You had him in your apartment, so I know he’s in there somewhere.” You said while waving it in Cass’s face frantically. 

It was deja vú when Mrs. Farrow eyed the card and her face paled considerably. 

“Oh.” 

———

Lucifer wasn’t ‘home’. At least, he wasn’t in his personal Airbnb via the Farrow residence. 

However, Cass waved it away. “He’ll think it’s you or about you or something to do with you and come running.”

Trying to push yourself and demand she tell you more proved to be too difficult. All you could do is stand with your arms crossed, waiting while the (clearly practiced) worshiper combined a series of dried plants in her hands. 

Cass gathered them up and laid them carefully on a side table before fiddling with the furnace and a long lighted match.  

The fire blazed to life instantly from the little flicker it had begun as when Cass threw the plants in. It rose higher, and higher, until it had disappeared past where you could see behind the lintel. 

You had it in you to be stunned when Lucifer appeared from out of those flames. He was perfectly pristine and intact when he stepped out, hunching slightly to avoid his top hat bumping into the smoke chamber. 

The devil was as you remembered him, but also worse in that you couldn’t reassure yourself that his visage was merely a product of your fucked up, overly-imaginative little brain. 

He was so… white.

His skin was practically blinding as freshly-painted walls hit by a sunbeam. 

Lucifer stepped into the room with a flourish. “I came as soon as I coul-”

‘Fuck.’ You’d been spotted. 

And there went Cass, out of the living room to hide away in her smelly kitchen. 

“You’re here!” Lucifer cajoled, theatrics on full display as he beheld your presence. 

The top hat came off, held in his hands as he graced you with a bashful smile like he was some gentleman caller and not Not-Satan. 

“I-I didn’t expect to see you here waiting! But I’m so glad you are. Did you get my card? I thought about just leaving the glove because the card can seem so impersonal —”

“I just got fired.” You blurted out. 

The unusually flat face contorted into an anguished expression. “You… you lost your job…?”

“Because of you.” 

“B-because of me ?!” His already youthful tenor of a  voice raised some octaves. “What —”

You pointed a finger in his direction. “Yes! You !”

“You appeared out of nowhere and fucked up my entire worldview. I've had existential crisis-es… cris-ies? I don’t fucking — I’ve had life-altering spirals before but that was fucking nothing compared with this!” 

“And now I’m out of a job and I’m alone in a city I don’t fucking know with cult-worshipping neighbors because I can’t go back to where I was and you’re just standing here like you have no idea why I’m upset!” 

You hadn’t expected to get this far. You hadn’t expected to go on a tirade at all, really. Distantly you felt tears sliding down your cheeks and the frantic beat of your heart in your ribcage. 

Shame, guilt and fear began toiling deep inside you. 

Lucifer had been backed against the wall, hands raised placatingly and expression mirroring your own internal panic. It quickly turned into concern as he took in your sorry state of being. 

“Please, no.” He reached out for you and you retaliated by jolting out of reach. “Oh please don’t… I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I never… if I’d known…”

He was reaching into his coat and pulling something out before your sight cleared. It was a handkerchief with the red moniker L.M. on one corner. 

The King held it out to you like a peace offering. Or a white flag.

The force with which you snatched it out of his hands was unnecessary but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You said you picked me. What did you mean by that?” You mumbled into the handkerchief. 

Lucifer’s mouth screwed up into a frown, brow creasing. “We don’t have to talk about that —”

“No.” You made eye contact, watching him squirm. “We need to talk about it. Explain it. Now.”

“Ahh… ok, yes, um…” He fiddled with the bow tie at his collar. “Well, like I said before, I wanted to wait until we got to know each other because… because it’s kind of a big deal.” 

Your stern frown implored him to continue.

Lucifer winced. “It’s sort of a-a favor I wanted to ask of you. And I thought that if we talked about it over time maybe it wouldn’t sound so monumental… but actually, now…”

The fidgeting worsened, and his nimble fingers had graduated to fussing with the clasps down his front. Eventually, Lucifer yanked his jacket down to straighten it. 

“So, I’ve been around for a really, really, really, really long time.” The Devil started. “And I’ve kind of been on my own for *like* ever and that’s fine, whatever, can’t complain. Normally it’s all about warding off boredom.

“But! Lately, it’s been harder and harder to just —” He made a fist and punched down onto the palm of his other hand to elucidate. “— Just, ahh, not be bored? I guess?”

“And it’s been interfering with all the shit I gotta do. I mean I have no-oo motivation, none at all, and it’s becoming a big problem. The other Sins have actually noticed. Like Satan? You know, we talked about him when we met — yeah, he came up to me not too long ago, saying —”

Your heart stopped as Lucifer’s eyes went completely red, blazing in his skull like magma and accompanied by long horns protruding from his head. 

His voice took on an unearthly, gravelly quality as he, presumably, mimicked Satan: 

“‘We’re worried for you, man. Ozzie says you haven’t been returning his calls. Levi and Bee miss you on their outings but you always say you’re busy. Whatever’s going on, you know you can talk to us, right?’”

Lucifer was back to normal in a millisecond. “And I do know that. I do! But as much as I wanna take them up on it, I just feel like none of them will really understand what’s wrong. I don’t even understand it. Or at least I didn’t until it came to me out of nowhere, like lightning.” 

He mimed being zapped in the head.

“Visits and parties with my brothers are fun and all, but they end... And I find myself all alone more often than not.”

Lucifer sighed deeply. 

“I don’t really have anything to live for,” He stressed. “Except for myself and…” 

“That’s not much.” He snickered mirthlessly. 

You swallowed. The anger, frustration, exhaustion and still-present fear were blanketed by an uncomfortable bout of sympathy. 

Sympathy for the Devil. 

‘Oh shut the fuck up you.’

“Don’t you live for the suffering of mankind or something?” You sniffled, trying to regain your metaphorical footing in the conversation and, in turn, regenerate that anger you’d been consumed by not a minute ago. 

Lucifer looked from the ground to you, the gleam in his cherry-red eyes fighting to come back to life.

“Aha! No, no. That’s-that’s a Bible thing, right?” He groaned, pulling down the brim of his hat in exasperation. “Ugh, I still don’t know why Heaven insists on that overblown press kit! It’s so fucking old! And inaccurate!” 

Lucifer commiserated with you. “Too much involvement from human hands, too. Ya know? I mean people use it to justify some of the most insane shit I’ve ever seen!”

He cleared his throat at your blank expression. 

“Anywho-oo. What was the question again? Oh! Oh, do I live for the suffering of man — no! No, I don’t. In fact, where I’m from? Being in the middle of that suffering shtick gets old real fast. I’ve stayed away from it for a good while now and really I’ve never been better.”

The blond topped off his statement with a smile, showing those razor teeth while also trying to come across as easy-going and candid. 

A beat passed, in which you felt your lips form a thin line. 

You couldn’t stop yourself. 

You snorted. 

Lucifer looked at you as if you’d lost your head as your snorts turned into full-blown laughter. Until he, of course, wanted to fit in like he knew exactly what was going on. 

“Hahaha, yeah…” Hell’s king chuckled nervously. “I am pretty funny, aren’t I? Ha ha… ha.”

 Shaking your head ‘no’, you tried to reign in the body spasms. 

“So when you say you ‘picked me’, you mean you want me to… what? Be your therapist?” You asked. “The Devil needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on? What?” 

Lucifer fixed you with the first look of genuine annoyance you’d seen (directed at you) from him. 

“No.” He harrumphed. “I need a baby.” 

*

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision

I'm so sorry if I missed anyone who asked to be tagged! I'm having a hard time keeping track.

[alrightbuckaroo]

it's okay. we're okay.

the teeniest tiniest character study brought on by this post by the wonderful @lonestardust and partly inspired by a conversation with the amazing @reyesstrand <3 also credit to the divider <3

“Hey, hey,” TK’s voice is quiet, calm, as it pierces through the silence.

Though, it’s not really silent. No, right now Carlos is surrounded by a symphony of chatter and rattle. Frantic voices overlapping, the unmistakable sound of pressurized water, and his own brain blaming him for the incompetence that led them here.

Then TK’s calling him baby and the world falls still. TK’s running his hand up and down Carlos’ arm, reminding him that he’s not in the throes of a nightmare and TK’s right here. He’s right. Here.

Carlos stumbles through an attempt at an apology before TK is pulling him in even tighter. Carlos plants his chin in the crook of TK’s neck, breathing in the scent of the man of his dreams because it means he won’t be smelling smoke.

“It’s okay,” TK whispers, his voice delicate like saying the wrong thing might cause the moment to shatter. “We’re okay.” He presses a kiss to Carlos’ temple, and though it’s chaste, it’s kind, it’s soft.

Carlos feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest; that is if he didn’t drop it somewhere on the tarmac.

Then, TK confirms the blood on his shirt isn’t his own and that he’s okay. Carlos waits for his breath to catch up before he’s confirming with, “You’re okay?”. He asks the question as if it’s a plea, as if he’s begging.

TK grabs Carlos’ face in both of his hands. His loving, faithful hands. He answers Carlos’ plea with a kiss brought on by warm, plush lips that remind Carlos of home. He draws back and continues to hold Carlos’ face with steady hands. “We’re okay.”

Carlos nods before wrapping his arms around TK even tighter. He just got him back, he can’t fathom the thought of losing him again. TK’s fingers tighten their grip around Carlos’ jacket, reminding him that he’s not going anywhere.

Just like all those months before, TK presses a kiss to his temple. Again, it’s chaste, it’s kind. It’s soft.

Carlos’ world is crashing down on him. All he wants to do is marry the man he loves but his own cowardice is putting that to a halt. He looks up at TK with red-rimmed eyes and a pathetic smile, “I’m a terrible friend.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” TK ushers out, his voice hushed the same way it was as Carlos’ apartment turned to ash. TK captures Carlos’ face in his hands and Carlos can feel something inside of him hitch. TK’s always delicate with him. “No you are not.”

Carlos must look like he doesn’t believe him because he repeats himself. “No you are not, okay?” He falls quiet, waiting for Carlos to agree; needing Carlos to agree. Carlos barely nods, but TK catches it. Of course he does, he always promises to catch Carlos whenever he falls.

“You’re an incredible friend,” TK reassures him, his thumb gently gliding over the soft skin of his cheek. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

TK gives him a watery grin and Carlos can’t help but think he must look like he believes him.

Life washes over Carlos like a wave. Building upon itself before eventually crashing against shore. His eyes open with bottled pressure, perceiving the golden light casting through Trudie’s kitchen like they’re rays of Heaven.

Carlos gets a glance at TK and he can’t tell if he’s been brought back from death or if Heaven is just this sweet. He really hopes it’s the former, he didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.

Then, TK, beautiful, amazing, too good for this world, TK, is holding his face in his hands and Carlos knows. He’s not just alive; he’s not just breathing. He’s okay.

They’re okay. 

They always will be. 

[jintaka-hane]

hello; im not sure if you’re taking requests but could you do a shanks x marine reader? (it can be any gender but id like if it was gender neutral!)

(ps: I love your work!!🤞🤞)

An unexpected evening

Masterlist

Hello, anon! I’m not really taking requests right now, but I just couldn’t say no to you <3 Thank you so much for your kind words and for reaching out! I hope you enjoy this! 😊 Summary: Your marine unit has been disbanded, and you’ve been reassigned to a new division on a distant island. Accompanied by a silent and surly warlord, your journey comes to an unexpected stop along the way. Word count: 1300 Warning: Shanks x gn!reader. Dialogue from OPLA. All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

You curse under your breath as your boots sink into the sand. Keeping up with that arrogant and temperamental warlord is no easy task—especially when you're wearing clothes that aren’t even yours.

The division you belonged to had been disbanded. In some bureaucratic decision far above your pay grade, a random draw had sent marines of your rank to various islands scattered across the Four Blues.

Your destination was particularly far, and with few ships available for transport, Admiral Monkey D. Garp had a "brilliant" idea during Mihawk’s visit to Headquarters: why not have the Warlord ferry you there on his creepy coffin-boat?

Initially, Mihawk’s response was a curt scowl and a flat-out refusal. But after a long, frosty stare-off between the two men, the swordsman begrudgingly agreed—most likely out of boredom.

The Hitsugibune was comically small for a man of Mihawk’s stature, yet you barely saw him during the five-day voyage. Honestly, it was a relief. You hated pirates. You hated how they ruled the seas with fear and violence, terrorizing innocent people just trying to make an honest living. 

But by the sixth day, you noticed the course had changed. Mihawk, distant and unreadable as always, didn’t say a word. Still, you suspected it had something to do with the rolled-up piece of paper he’d snatched from Garp’s office and now kept locked away in his cabin.

And you were right. His gruff demeanor and the bundle of clothes he tossed at you confirmed it.

“Put this on. Where we’re going, you don’t want to be seen wearing that,” he muttered, gesturing disdainfully at your blue-and-white marine uniform.

Not wanting to provoke the world’s greatest swordsman, you reluctantly changed into an outfit that would undoubtedly get you arrested if any of your comrades spotted you.

Now, you’re trudging after Mihawk along the shore, your eyes scanning the island’s tall palm trees, trying to figure out where on earth you’ve landed. The Warlord strides ahead without stopping, his boots stomping through the sand, the roll of paper clutched in his hand, and his usual scowl fixed firmly in place. When he comes to a sudden stop, you nearly bump into his back.

“This is an unusual place for a man of your... stature,” Mihawk drawls, his eyes fixed on a point ahead of him.

Your first instinct is to respond, but a slightly raspy male voice beats you to it.

“Come on, lads, we’re in the presence of a mighty warlord of the sea. Show a little uuugh... respect.”

You immediately peer out from behind Mihawk and tense at the sight of a group of scruffy men, each looking worse than the last.

“I’m not in the mood for a duel today, Hawkeyes. We’re hungover.”

Your attention focus on the speaker. A striking redhead, draped in a black cloak with an attitude so shamelessly carefree it borders on reckless. Far too carefree, considering who he was addressing.

Your mind races, flipping through every bounty poster you’ve memorized, before stopping on that face.

Red-Haired Shanks.

An Emperor.

One of the most wanted and dangerous men alive.

“I’m not here to fight,” Mihawk replies smoothly. “Not when you’re half the man you used to be.” His hand shifts slightly, stopping you in your tracks when he catches you instinctively reaching for your weapon.

Shanks’ eyes darts toward you briefly, noting your presence before returning to Mihawk.

“I could still take you," he says, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Even with one arm tied behind my back!” He throws his head back in laughter, clutching the cuff of his empty sleeve as his crew burst into cheers.

The two men continue their peculiar conversation, tense yet strangely amicable. Every time Shanks’ gaze flickers toward you, you meet it with a glare of pure disdain, which only seems to amuse him more.

“Oh, lighten up, you somber son of a gun! Drink with us!” Shanks cheers, holding up the bounty poster of Monkey D. Luffy in his hand.

Horrified by the invitation, you turn your eyes to Mihawk, silently willing him to decline. Surely, his disdain for unnecessary human interaction would align with yours. But to your dismay, he doesn't.

“I suppose a drink wouldn’t hurt,” Mihawk says casually. You bite your tongue, suppressing the urge to protest.

Seated on the sand under the starlit sky, a roaring bonfire warms you as you eat and drink alongside Mihawk. The Red-Haired pirates have laid out their best food and bottles, laughing and chatting boisterously as they devour the feast and drink like the rowdy cosacks they are. You take cautious sips of a spectacular wine, doing your best to stay sober. You can’t afford to let your guard down around these dangerous sea dogs.

Shanks, cheeks flushed partly from the fire's warmth and partly from the barrels of alcohol he’s consumed, keeps unabashedly staring at you. You notice it but pretend not to, avoiding his gaze as your fingers idly toy with the hem of your shirt. Then, with the grace of someone who owns every space he steps into, the redhead saunters over and drops into the sand directly in front of you.

“So… are you two dating?” he asks, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

Mihawk’s already stiff posture somehow straightens even further, but you rush to answer first.

“NO. I’m a mari—”

“—Y/N,” Mihawk cuts you off, his icy glare practically freezing you mid-sentence.

Shanks’ eyes widen, and a grin so big it could split his face appears as he gives his friend a hearty slap on the shoulder.

“Well, damn! Married? To this beauty?”

If looks could kill, Shanks would’ve been dead twice over.

“NO,” you and Mihawk bark in unison, prompting Shanks to raise his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles.

You go back to your drink, but maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just him, but there’s something overwhelmingly magnetic about the redhead. You watch as he raises his cup, laughing so freely and attractively that it’s almost impossible to look away. Your thoughts blur for a moment, and you abruptly stand, muttering something about needing to get away from the fire.

Stumbling slightly in the sand, you make your way toward a secluded, wooded area and lean against the trunk of a tree. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

"You OK?"

Your eyes snap open at the sound of Shanks' voice. The man approaches with a particular gleam in his eyes and an amused twist to his lips.

"Yes..." you manage to say.

"Good." He grins.

Damn... that devilish smile again.

He steps closer, dangerously close, and raises his only hand, offering you a swig from his bottle. You shake your head, your gaze briefly settling on his empty sleeve. He notices and furrows his brow in an exaggerated attempt to look serious.

"You should've seen how the other guy ended up..."

As soon as he finishes, he laughs, but this time it's a softer, almost melancholic sound. For the first time tonight, your expression softens as you look at him, the corner of your mouth betraying you with a slight curve upward.

"So..." he leans in closer, and your breath catches in your throat, "you're not with Hawks?"

You shake your head, swallowing hard as you feel his nose playfully brush against yours. He smells of campfire smoke, salt, and alcohol.

"Good, good..." his voice drops lower, "how about we have a little fun, just the two of us? Hmm?"

You hated pirates. The academy had drilled into you how cruel they were, how ruthless. And yet here he is. So lighthearted. Sharing his food, his booze, and by his insinuation... even his body.

You close your eyes and nod, feeling his breath against your neck.

"It's a shame you took off your marine uniform," he says and your heart stops. "Would've made this even more fun."

...............................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[anakinca]

—❝five more minutes❞

clay x reader

tw ; nothing, just pure fluff

a/n ; i'm going through the most INTENSE writers block rn.. so i hope u all enjoy this little fluffy imagine i made, but PLEASEE send in some requests cause i'm DYING. i'm also making a tagslist, so comment if u wanna be added <3

THE SOFT GOLDEN LIGHT OF THE MORNING STREAMS GENTLY THROUGH THE SILK BLINDS. It paints your and Clay’s bedroom with warmth, bringing a cozier feel to the penthouse apartment. The mix of yellows, oranges, and reds makes it a true sight for sore eyes. The bustling city of Manhattan seems far away, quiet and still, while inside, everything feels wrapped in the comforting embrace of peace.

Clay’s arm is draped lazily around you, his body close to yours under the tangled sheets, his warmth pressing against you like a safe haven. His soft breathing matched the slow rhythm of your own, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had slowed down just for the two of you.

You shift slightly, careful not to disturb the peaceful moment, your fingers lightly brushing through his hair. His soft curls are slightly tousled from sleep, and the touch of your hand makes him stir slightly, just enough to blink his eyes open. The first thing he sees is you, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t thanking every star above for the sight. A sleepy, content smile spreads across his face, trying to blink the sleepiness out of his eyes.

“‘Morning,” He murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep, but the warmth in it is unmistakable. His eyes are squinted from the light of the sun, but he’s still tracing your every facial feature with his gaze. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the structure of your cheekbones, and all the other little aspects of your face he truly adores with every other part of you.

You smile gently, shifting to face him more fully. “Hey, sleepy,” you reply softly, your fingers lingering in his hair. His lips quirk up at the corners from the nickname, and his eyes flutter closed again from the sensation of your fingers carding through his curls—craving your touch like an addict. "How’d you sleep?"

Clay lets out a long, relaxed sigh, his arm tightening around you as he draws you even closer. “Good,” he mumbles, his voice still low and drowsy. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck, his warm breath brushing against your skin. “Think I might’ve even dreamed a little. But I’m not ready to wake up from that just yet.”

You giggle softly, your hand continuing to gently run through his hair, the motion soothing and comforting to him—making him let out small noises of approval. “I’m glad,” you murmur, your voice light and teasing, “‘cause I’m not too ready to get out of bed just yet.”

Clay’s hand lazily wanders up your back, his fingers tracing small patterns along your spine. "Yeah?" He responds, the sleepiness still lingering in his voice. “I could get used to that.” You can practically hear the teasing smile as he says it. “You, me, no alarms, no plans... just us.”

You roll your eyes playfully at his teasing tone, smiling to yourself, then closing your eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his touch spreading through you. “Mhm, sounds perfect," you giggle quietly. Your fingers stop their motions, your hand just staying buried in his locks, keeping his head on your shoulder.

Your free hand is resting on his back, but you move it so it’s resting on his bare chest—right over his heart. The gentle thudding against your palm brings an everlasting comfort to you, knowing he’s healthy once again, alive and breathing right in your arms. He’s just so vulnerable and soft right now—a stark contrast to the resigned and composed businessman he is—and it only makes you want to protect him from everything bad in this world. 

His lips curl into a slow, affectionate smile, and he lifts his head just slightly to softly kiss your jaw. "It does sound perfect, sweetheart," he whispers, brushing his nose against your jawline. "You and me, and... maybe a little more sleep."

You let out a soft laugh, nuzzling your own face into his hair and inhaling his comforting, familiar scent. He always smells like vanilla and oakwood, and you’ve come to find solace in it. It’s a smell that grounds you even in your worst moments, solely because it’s him. 

You settle in even closer, your body perfectly molded to his. “Maybe just five more minutes?” You ask, leaning down to pepper small kisses on his forehead, your voice playful but warm.

Clay chuckles quietly, his arms tightening slightly around you as he hums in agreement, and his fingers gliding up and gently stroking the back of your neck. “But let’s make it ten. Just... ten more minutes.”

His eyes flutter back open to look up at you, his gaze filled with such intensity, such absolute reverence and adoration for you. It’s hard for him to believe that you’re truly his, that he really deserves you. He had lost so much and his heart had a void because of it, but you’re his salvation and the only thing that fills up that void in his heart. That soothes the ache and makes him feel—makes him know—that everything will be okay, as long as you’re by his side. 

You smile down at him, your heart swelling with love. “Ten minutes, then,” you whisper, your eyes closing as you let the world outside fade away. “Maybe this should be your wakeup call to sleep earlier, hm?” You tease him, raising an eyebrow as your smile grows. 

Clay scoffs playfully and presses light kisses to your shoulder, the sensation tickling you a little and making you giggle again. “You’re the one to blame for my sleepless nights, so I think I’ll take all the minutes I can get in the mornings,” he murmurs, smiling against your skin at the sound of your giggles. He pulls you in impossibly closer as you both sink deeper into the bed.

For the next several minutes, the world outside ceases to exist. There was no rush. There were no demands. Just the soft rhythm of his breathing and the comforting sound of your heart beating in sync with his. Everything is perfect. Everything is quiet. Everything is just... you two.

"Five more minutes?" You ask again, your voice still teasing, but your words heavy with affection.

Clay’s hand gently brushes over your cheek, his touch tender and full of warmth. "Five more minutes," he echoes softly, a smile adorning his face as he leans up to capture your lips in a soft kiss—this time gently, sweetly, as if time doesn’t matter at all.

And for those five minutes—then ten, then an hour or two—the world could wait.

Because in that moment, there was only him, and only you, lost in the comfort of each other’s arms.

[shmisky]

One of the things I love about old Stancest (I think that’s my favorite era for them) is the fact, imo, that their relationship never really will be the same anymore. Not necessarily the angst of it all, but the new romantic tension that this would bring.

Ok, so. Just look at this.

Ford’s drawing of himself and his brother on the Stan O’ War II in Journal 3 is of course adorable, but beyond that, it’s clearly inspired by Ford’s beloved picture of them as kids. As if the Stans will, now, return to the same sweet camaraderie they always had. Will they, though?

This isn’t meant to sound ominous. I just don’t think that would be realistic, and that isn’t what the Lost Legends comics show us, either. Don’t Dimension It is apparently set before the Sea Grunkles era, but already after Weirdmaggedon. The behavior that we see from the Stans is, to put it simply, the behavior of an old married couple, with lots of clowning and bickering. The fact that Mabel had to intervene and advise two grown men to take care of each other instead is both delicious Stancest fuel and ridiculously funny!

Now, their relationship wasn’t always like that. I find it great that in the same book we have three stages of the Stans’ relationship: pre-Weirdmaggedon old Stans, post-Weirdmaggedon old Stans, and child Stans. The Stans as children act visibly sweeter towards each other, imo, than even post-Weirdmaggedon Stans. They haven’t quite recovered that childlike innocence, nor do I ever expect them to.

I know that at this point I might just be confirming the obvious, but 1) I promise I have a point, and 2) what I like to do sometimes is to focus on a little detail that everyone kind of already knows and think of all the implications. A bit like tearing a bread apart with my fingers, piece by piece.

There’s simply too much baggage, too much history between them now. Even if they made up and Ford apologized nonstop like Dipper tells us in J3 and Stan forgave him wholeheartedly, things won’t magically return to the point they were before Ford started to feeling “suffocated” by Stan. (I do believe the cracks in their relationship started before the science fair accident. I will expand on this in a future meta!)

Not only because of what happened between them, but because of what happened to each of them, separately. Both have changed a lot (not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well), became different people to survive, and are now deeply damaged. Both are carrying huge traumas of their own, and since they’re emotionally constipated old men with an attitude that would make Mabel shake her head in disapproval, I think it’s going to take a while before they fully trust each other with their past. They know their brother deserves the truth, of course, but it’s not that simple. There’s a lot to unpack, and I imagine that the fear of being judged and the fear of upsetting the other don’t make for a good mix. What if Stan hears a bad tale of Ford’s portal days, or Ford hears a story of Stan’s homeless days in which he barely escaped alive, and blames himself?

More than that, their own physical appearance drives the point home. Ford’s body is all athletic, likely full of tattoos (both embarassing ones and cool ones, I think) and scars. Stan, on the other hand, makes use of hearing aids, dentures, and an orthopedic pillow; probably with a few scars of his own, more than just the brand, and a slouch he didn’t have in his younger days. The contrast is even clearer when Stan isn’t wearing his Mr. Mystery suit and girdle. They still look decently like twins to deceive both the kids and Bill (and make Pacifica think Ford was Stan but hotter), and I’m sure sailing will help Stan’s health, but some of those differences are impossible to erase. They went from actually identical twins who could only be told apart by Ford’s fingers to grown men with strong characteristics of their own.

Once upon a time, I imagine, wether romantically or not, they were as familiar with each other’s secrets, thoughts, and bodies as with their own. Now they’re practically strangers. United by a very intense love and connection that couldn’t die in the 40 years they were separated, but strangers all the same.

All of this can sound a bit sad, perhaps, but I think—and that’s the point I want to make—it’s a sexy dynamic with a lot of potential. It gives space, for example, for exploring and discovering, and, since I’m a shipper, falling in love with that stranger that your twin brother became. The lack of familiarity gives way to a lot of romantic and sexual tension. Both of them know and understand a lot of what they didn’t back then. As an example, Ford, in my opinion, values Stan now in a way that he never did before. You only miss something after you lose it, after all, and they spent so much time apart and yearning and longing and repressing and overall feeling like a part of them was missing. The pent-up desire, as well, heh 😏

Imagining them being vulnerable after all of that—crying into each other’s chest (mostly Stan tbh, since Ford isn’t much of a crier), mapping out each other’s bodies, finally opening up—that’s my jam.

Perhaps they can’t recover the old dynamic, but they can make something even better.

[redskull199987]

i have two so I'll probably send them separately, but at the same time I feel like that would be a lot of notifications (also fem reader please); #1 is giving mike schmidt head under his desk while he's at work and stuff , #2 is like playing with mike's hair and stuff to help him sleep and cuddling with him , and #3 is mike bending reader over his desk and going to down because he's had a pretty bad shift and needs to relieve stress. you can just do one or all, it's up to you

First of all, this is only one of these three requsts, the second one to be precise. The others will follow of course, don't worry. Until then, I hope that you enjoy this one. I had lots of fun writing this:D

So hear my Voice, remind you not to bleed

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request Word Count:1.3k Warnings:tooth rotting fluff,kissing and hugging, that’s all, slight movie spoilers Summary:You knew that your Boyfriend had trouble falling asleep, so you did everything you could to help him find his way into sweet sweet dreamland…

Masterlist

You felt like shit. At least, that was the short version. And the longer one wasn't even that much longer. To put it simply, you had an awfully long week. And that was probably an underestimation. 

You fought murderous animatronics, a creepy dude in a bunny costume, a feral cupcake and after all that shit, you barely escaped with your life. And while you were fortunate and had only obtained a few minor scratches and bruises here and there, Mike had a few life threatening flesh wounds and Vannesa was lucky to be alive at all, after her father had stabbed her.

Your Bones ached and your head was pounding, as you finally made your way home. Unfortunately, you couldn’t just ask your Boss to give you a few days off because you had several Animatronic-induced wounds scattered over your body. Heck, you were happy you didn’t just lose your job after not showing up for three days in a row. 

All you could do was tell them that you got involved in a car accident and that you and your boyfriend had been in the hospital for a few days. Much to your favor, they believed you and the fact that Vanessa was still in the Hospital only backed up your little lie.

Your Mind was still racing, as you reached your little Home. It was already dark outside, as you stepped into the comfort of your Apartment. You saw Lights coming from the Living Room and the Sound of the TV slowly made its way into your Brain and pushed away the gruesome memories of the Pizza-Plex.

“Mike?”, You shouted into the darkness,”Abby? I’m Home.”

You didn’t receive an answer, so you quickly discarded your shoes and Jacket and walked into the Living Room. Only now, you noticed Abby sitting in front of the Sofa, drawing with her Crayons and listening to the sound of the TV.

“Hey Abbs.”, You smiled and leaned down to greet the little Girl. She practically beamed at you and gave you a small hug.

“Have You eaten yet? Where’s Mike?”, You quickly asked again as you rose back to your feet.

“Yes, we had Spaghetti with meatballs.”, Abby stated happily,”And Mike said he was tired and went to sleep already. He told me I could stay up for a little bit longer:”

“Okay then.”, You mumbled, gently running a hand through Abby’s Hair,”I’ll go join your Brother in Bed. Don’t stay up too late, okay Love?”

Abby nodded at you profusely before turning her focus back on the Half finished Drawing in front of her. You looked at her once more, before deciding to finally go see your Boyfriend in your shared bedroom. You knew that he was always tired. Even before you started dating. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

 But after recent events, his insomnia seemed to get severely worse. He could barely fall asleep anymore and even if he did, he’d be awake again a few hours later, jumping up with heavy breaths and a sweaty forehead. You always tried to comfort him and be there for him, but you still felt like you weren’t doing enough. Like, you should do more. But you didn’t know how.

With a sigh, You slowly pushed your bedroom door open. You were surprised as you realized that the lights were still on and Mike was sitting in the middle of the Bed, still fully dressed.

“Mike?”, You asked with furrowed brows,”Are You okay, my Love?”

He didn’t answer you at first. Only as you got closer and sat down next to him, he looked at you.

“S-Sorry, must’ve been lost in my thoughts again. I didn’t notice you coming in.”, Mike explained. His voice was raspy and tired. With a soft smile, you grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly:”It’s okay, don’t worry. You wanna go to sleep?”

Mike only gave you a nod and got up to change into his sleeping attire,which consisted of a Shirt and some sweatpants. You quickly followed him over to the wardrobe and before he could pull off his hoodie, you carefully hugged him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love You.”, you uttered against his skin. You could see how the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and the shiver that went down his spine.

“I love you too.”, Mike answered, taking a hold of your hands and turning around in your embrace. For the first time today he gave you a smile. A lazy one, but you saw that it was genuine. You quickly leaned forward, planting a kiss on his cheek, before you connected your lips with his in a tender kiss. You felt his hands wander to your waist and he pulled you closer. Warmth radiated off of his Body, while his lips worked against your own in passion.

As you finally parted due to the lack of oxygen, both Mike and you were panting against each other's lips. It was quiet for a few minutes and no one said anything, while the two of you just enjoyed each other's company.

But then you reached for the hem of his hoodie and as Mike realized what your plan was, he obediently raised his arms, so that you could pull the hoodie off of his body. After you let the Hoodie fall to the Floor, Mike grabbed the Hem of your sweater and the two of you repeated the whole action, but with your roles reversed this time. 

It didn’t take long, until you were both in your sleeping attires after you lazily helped changing each other.

With a drowsy smile, You grabbed Mike’s hand and pulled him back towards the bed. You had of course noticed that his expression wasn’t really the happiest, as he was afraid of having nightmares again. He had told you about them. It was always the same. He saw Abby, Vanessa or You getting stabbed by William Afton and there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t move or scream. He just had to witness it.

“Come here.”, You mumbled and held out your hand as you saw that Mike was hesitating to lay down. His gaze wandered from the sheets to your face and it seemed like the soft smile you gave him did the trick on him. He gently grabbed your hand and let himself be pulled down by you. As his head was laying comfortably in the crook of your neck and your hands were slowly brushing through his hair, Mike let out a deep sigh.

“It’s okay. I’m here with you, Mike.”, You mumbled into his ear. You felt how his arms slung around your waist, pulling you closer.

“I know.”, Mike muttered under his breath,”You’re here.”

He took a deep breath in again, before you finally felt his body relax against yours. You quickly grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the two of you.

“Just concentrate on my voice.”, you said, soothingly rubbing his back with one hand, while the other still brushed through his hair to calm him down,“Listen to my voice. You’re not alone. I’m here with you.”,

“You’re here with me.”, Mike repeated quietly. You only nodded and continued to mumble sweet nothings into his ear. And within Minutes, you felt his grip on you loosen ever so slightly, while his breath became more even.

With a soft smile, You kissed the crown of his head once more, before also letting your eyes fall shut. If Mike could sleep, you could sleep too. And if he woke up, You would wake up too, no matter what.

[parkitrighthere]

Parkitrighthere wrapped 2024

Big love to @kingofbodyrolls (honestly, how are you so sweet? Teach me your ways) for tagging me!

Okay, so here’s the thing: I literally just started posting fics in October, so I have no business doing a wrap-up. But when have I ever let “having no business” stop me? Exactly. So here we are.

Let’s talk about 2024, aka The Year That Tried to Kill Me. It started all cute and hopeful, and then February said, “Watch this,” and yeeted me straight into the abyss. By March, I was officially doing the crying-in-the-shower Olympics (gold medalist here). Honestly, my mental health decided to host its own reality show, complete with plot twists, backstabbers, and… commercial breaks, apparently?

And don’t even get me started on my birthday. Like, crying on my birthday is practically tradition at this point, but this year? Oh, it was a performance. A symphony of sobs.

But hey, there were good moments too. I made some friends (hi, you lovely weirdos). Lost some too. All in all, I’m just happy this year is over.

2025, please be nice. And if you’re not, at least make it funny.

MOST POPULAR FIC OF 2024

ASHES OF A PROMISE Chapter 1

597 notes – October 16, 2024

(People liked this one, so I’m convinced it was a fluke. But hey, thanks for reading!)

LATEST FIC OF 2024

ASHES OF A PROMISE Chapter 2

388 notes – November 19, 2024

BLACK ORCHID PROJECT Chapter 1

215 notes – December 24, 2024

(This one’s my baby right now. Let’s see if I can keep it alive in 2025.)

FIC RECS OF 2024

Okay, so I didn’t read much this year because, you know, life was lifing. But here are some gems that I did read and absolutely loved:

Wild & Free by @ktownshizzle (this fic owns my soul)

Jenga by @closer-to-jungkook (my serotonin provider)

Esati by @closer-to-jungkook (I mean please write more because I need to read the next part, thank you)

Sprouting Love by @kingofbodyrolls (I will forever scream about this)

Tell Me What to Do by @letsbangts (love love love)

Down and Down by @kkukverse (I’m still spiraling)

Lady’s Honor by @chimcess (I wish to read more fics like this)

Sweet Love by @spideyjimin (this fic hugged me, I swear)

TOP STATS OF 2024

Total notes: 4,678 (which feels illegal?)

Total posts: 112 original / 143 (31 reblogs) (because I’m lazy) [check status here]

Total words written: 94.6k (which sounds fake but okay)

Top muses: Jimin and Jungkook (because duh).

TOP TEN TRACKS OF 2024

1. “Standing Next to You” – Jungkook (he owns my ears)

2. “Filter” – Jimin (it’s Jimin, need I say more?)

3. “Unspoken Words” – mxmtoon (crying into my coffee vibes)

4. “Room for You” – Madison Cunningham (soft and sad and everything)

5. “Moonlight Sunrise” – TWICE

6. “Alone With You” – Ardhito Pramono (chill vibes, 10/10)

7. “Closer to You” – Jungkook

8. “Double Take” – Dhruv (this song is a hug)

9. “Love Like This” – Zayn

10. “Gracie’s Song” – Ben Abraham

GOALS FOR 2025

Don’t die (the bare minimum, I know).

Write more (aka stop procrastinating).

Read more (stop doomscrolling, me).

Actually finish that one story (chill, you don't know).

Draw more (absolutely not stick figures).

Complete my articleship (cries in deadlines).

TAGGING (but no pressure!):

@closer-to-jungkook @livingformintyoongi @ktownshizzle

Here’s to surviving another year, my friends. Let’s hope 2025 doesn’t bully us too much. Cheers!

[tastesousweet]

⭒ vampire love

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary : they were each others’ go-to hookup in highschool, chris is back in town and y/n surprises him at his window. based on “vampire love” by yung bruh.

warnings : basically pure smuttttt :P & they’re both just whiney and horny idk. they get fluffy at the end tho

mickey speaks : uhhhh 1st post & im showing my whorism already !!!! oops

Y/N - 12:56 AM

are u home?

CHRIS

yea i landed this morning

Y/N

u never told me ☹️☹️

CHRIS

i know it was a busy day for me

CHRIS

i’m sorry

Y/N

well wyd right now?

CHRIS

texting u 😘

Y/N

cornball. go back to LA

CHRIS

nah im actually just sitting here watching

family guy in nick’s room

Y/N

tell nick i say hi aw

Y/N

i missed u guys

CHRIS

i missed you bruh

CHRIS

i wanna see u but i don’t want u

leaving the house this late for me

CHRIS

i’ll def come see you tomorrow tho

Y/N

oh??? that’s crazy bc i would get

“come over” texts from u at 3 am

in highschool 😭😭

Y/N

like who am i speaking to rn

CHRIS

a gentleman tf🤦‍♂️🤷‍♂️!!!

message laughed at by Y/N !

౨ৎ

Y/N - 1:23 AM

you still watching tv?

CHRIS

nah i’m in my room now

Y/N

oh ok

Y/N

sooo.

Y/N

i’m at your house????

CHRIS

WHAT

Y/N

window …😊😊

chris immediately shuffles from his bed over to his window, seeing you with your face illuminated by your phone light.

he smiles and goes to text you,

CHRIS

what r u waiting for?? get up here

he looks back to see you roll your eyes in response and begin to move the same ladder you used in highschool over to chris’ window.

chris pries open the window with his bottom lip comfortably tucked in his mouth. he peeks his head out and can’t help but commentate on your situation as you focus heavily on making it up the rickety ladder. “she couldn’t wait twelve hours to see her man, wow. i must be something special, huh?”

you move your focus from your careful footsteps, up to chris, with a smug look and fuckass hat on his head. “maybe she was just a little horny and very bored.”

“she could’ve gone to sleep like someone normal.” he teases more, leaning back as she’s now made it up to his level.

he reaches his hand out and helps her into his room, “does he not want to fuck her or…?” she tilts her head and watches chris close his window.

“shut up,” he laughs a little walking towards her and pulling her into a hug (he makes sure to hold the sides of your bare hips that you purposely have on display, just so you know he saw and he appreciates it) which you embrace deeply. “hottest bitch alive,” he laughs into your hair.

you push him away, laughing at the old inside joke (before anything had happened between the two of you chris took a hit or two from a joint sophomore year of highschool and revealed his attraction to you, declaring you “the hottest bitch alive,” and of course you teased him but none the less took it as a compliment).

he hooks his hand on the waist band of your small shorts before you can get far, pulling you back and laying a soft, short kiss on your lips.

your head is at an angle looking up to him and the corners of your mouth begin to upturn as you chase his initial kiss with another and another, building passion with every connection.

he deepens the kiss while moving backwards towards the black couch at the foot of his bed. upon reaching it you push him gently causing him to fall back onto the plush surface. he draws his hand across his now wet lips as a smirk crosses his face.

chris pats his lap anticipating your willing obedience, only for you to step back and remove your teddy bear slippers you hadn’t gotten the chance to take off yet. he chuckles a little and removes his hat, throwing it behind him onto his bed, and moving his arm to rest behind his head as he lazily watches your every move.

your loose tank top and lack of bra leave little to imagine as you walk back towards him and crawl onto his lap. you try not to let the dopey grin that’s etched on his mouth effect you too much as you move his hands to hold your ass.

he begins to kiss you again, a little harder than before and adding the aspect of his tongue to explore parts of your mouth he hadn’t seen in some time. your hands ghost up his neck and one hand holds there while the other moves to his cheek.

you begin grinding yourself against his lap and he disconnects your lips to hiss at the sensation before kissing up and down your neck slowly.

girl lay yo body down on that fuckin couch

when you begin to moan lowly and grind yourself harder chris lifts you off of his lap and lays you on the couch, now hovering over you.

you’re annoyed by the loss of stimulation and groan, “come backk.” you pull at his white wife beater and chase his lips with your own.

“shhh” he whispers against your pouted lips, dragging himself down to settle on the floor below you, guiding his face between your legs and making them fall on either side of his head.

open up your legs i’m gon’ work my mouth

you whimper and suck your bottom lip in your mouth when he starts to leave kisses and nibbles on your inner thighs. he’s carefully avoiding your clothed center, taking his time loving on you.

“chris,” you let out a breathy whine and reach for his hand, bold enough to place it right at your lower tummy and waistband of your tiny fucking shorts.

chris hums against your center, finally looking up at you with droopy, infatuated eyes. you caress his hand to encourage him to adventure further into your heat.

as much as he loves to tease, his fingers curl and grip the waistband as his fingers dance along the small string of your thong. he smiles at the thought of you putting it on just for him tonight.

“baby, please,” you whine again, louder.

try not to make a sound this my momma house

he kisses the space between your center and thigh, the closest he’s gotten to where you need him most at this point. “shhh, i’ll give you what you want. jus’ gotta be quiet, ‘kay?” he mews before he presses a gentle kiss to your clothed cunt.

you just about sob and fight the urge to push your shorts to the side and force his head down yourself.

he finally sits back on his legs, moving his hands slowly up your legs. “god damn, you’re so precious,” he rasps with a smile as he slowly lowers your shorts down your legs.

“just for you,” you breathe when he’s finally pulls your shorts off and throws them behind him.

“how sweet,” he kisses your ankle before hooking it over his shoulder. chris stares up at you before his eyes flick down to your dripping core, leaving a wet spot at the center of your tiny thong.

he groans at the sight and uses his right hand to pull the cloth to the side as his left hand rubs across your lower stomach leaving butterflies in its path. he moves his index finger through your soaked folds causing you to let out a hushed yet sharp moan.

chris uses your sound of pleasure as encouragement when he dips his tongue into you continuously. when you start to buck into his face he uses his arm to hold your leg (that’s not over his shoulder) down against the couch.

your soft moans are harmonious and you watch as chris closes his eyes and begins to fully enjoy licking at your core. he moves to kiss your thigh again, replacing his mouth with his fingers entering in and out of you slowly. you watch him as he focuses on his fingers’ every move and enjoys his front row viewing of your body’s appreciation of him.

he blissfully lays his cheek on your inner thigh when you bring your hand down to his face and comb through his hair to pull his attention back to your face rather than your pussy.

he shifts his eyes up and you draw your finger across his swollen bottom lip. he slowly smiles at you before speaking, “wanna cum, hmm?”

and to his surprise you shake your head no and begin to take his fingers out of you and bring them up to your mouth.

chris lets out a whiney moan and drags himself up to be face to face with you as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, tasting every bit of yourself. “so fucking hot.” he whispers and replaced his fingers with a rough kiss to your mouth.

you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck while he continues to kiss you. you can feel him moving underneath you to grind his hardened center against the couch cushion so you pull away from him and tell him to sit down instead.

he nods his head and you both trade positions; your face now level with his lower half just as his once was with your own.

you run your hands up his covered legs and towards his hard center and begin to stroke him through his sweats. he lets out a relieved breath as he watches you and anticipates your descent further.

you adjust your position and pull down his boxers and sweatpants just far enough that you can pull out his pulsing member. chris throws his head back and covers his eyes with his hands at the sensation of your thumb circling his sensitive head.

that bitch gon’ give me top, that’s without a doubt

you pump long, slow strokes along his cock while starring up at him hazily. you begin to feel annoyed by his lack of eye contact and pull his attention by guiding him into your mouth.

chris lets a choked moan escape and looks down to you, with a mouthful of his dick and glossy eyes, looking back up at him. his mouth is hung open subconsciously as he fights back his own excessive moans, instead he gathers your hair for you and uses all of his might to not fuck your face.

once you build a rhythm you take him further until he’s fully buried and slightly curved down your throat. his moan comes out in fractures and his grip on your hair grows tighter. “you’re so good to me,” he whispers. you go to move but stop once he pleads, “wait! no, please jus’ just stay right there, baby.” so you begin to focus on breathing through your nose as he holds your head back down.

you stay for a few moments and when you finally gag and pull off of him he thrusts up into air to almost chase the feeling while you gather yourself. “you okay?” his face is pulled tight together but you can’t tell if it’s because he’s concerned for you or his own orgasm.

you nod and his senses are heightened as you start to stroke his cock a few more times but before he can finish you confess, “baby, i want you to fuck me now…”

he gathers your face in his hands and rubs your cheek, “you know i will… but first can i cum, please?”

you shake your head with a smirk, kissing his inner hand but before you rise to your feet you kiss the top of his sensitive dick, to which he uncontrollably spills a small amount of his cum onto your lips.

he feels a little humiliated at his lack of control. “fuck. ‘m sorry i didn’t mean to-” but chris can feel his stomach recoil as he attempts to fight off finishing all over your face right now.

he watches intensely as you lick your lips slowly, tasting every bit of him, before you stand up (your thong showing every inch of your full ass while you walk) and go to lay on his bed. he can no longer see you but he takes the hint when your small tank top is thrown at him.

he exhales and begins to fully remove his clothes as well. he joins you in his bed to see you bare and sprawled out, your fingers tapping softly at your clit.

you whimper when you dip your fingers inside of you then bring them up to his mouth. he hums and sticks his tongue out. you drag your fingers across it before he’s wrapping his lips around them and sucking hard.

you bite your lip at the sight of chris being so willing and eager.

he pulls them from his mouth and smiles while guiding your hand between you both to grab his needy cock. “please.” is all he says before he kisses you.

you pump him a few times before guiding him into you slowly, to which chris moans directly over your mouth, eyes slightly rolled back. you quiet him gently by kissing him again.

i fuck her like a god, that’s without a doubt

he continues the slow pace you began as he guides himself fully in and out of you. the silver of his necklace catches the light of the moon every so often making it gleam as it sways over your face. you find it so satisfying and pretty.

you suck on his neck and whisper that you need him to fuck you hard or not at all. he immediately is quickening his thrusts into you and you muffle a cry into his neck, clawing at his back with your manicured nails.

i got that pussy wet, that’s without a drought

you’re so slick that the sound of your skin slapping together is amplified and chris prays to fucking god his mother hasn’t found herself thirsty in the middle of a rem cycle.

“i need you chris, i need-“ your words spew out and he doesn’t let up, continuing his harsh pounds into your used center.

“hold on to it, baby. ‘m so close, please,” he reaches for your hands and holds them against the mattress on each side of your head as he continues to build to a climax.

you whine and he gives in to you easily. he removes one of his hands from holding yours to rub your clit harshly, “go ahead, give me everything then.”

he continues to thrust himself into you but his eyes stare intently at your face as you fall apart beneath him and squeeze around his length. you’re a moaning mess and he quickly puts his hand over your mouth until you’re spent.

the scene alone causes him to pull out of you and let out a series of low moans while his cum falls onto your lower stomach.

to make the most out of the overwhelming sensitivity you both feel, he immediately guides his cock through your folds, crying out at the intense stimulation. as you try to push him away, and whine his name telling him it’s so much.

he obliges and unknowingly blurts more cum on your thighs as he moves up to kiss you, out of breath.

he sucks your bottom lip for a second longer before pulling apart and whispering, “hold on.” your sleepy figure just nods up to him and he breathes out a laugh before finding his boxers on the floor and walking out quietly.

you try to keep your eyes open but it feels like forever when chris finally comes back with a damp wash cloth, two water bottles, and a bowl of washed grapes (??). your eyes open timidly at the small amount of light coming from his phone’s flashlight. you can see him wearing your teddy slippers though which makes you mentally laugh, but physically smile as he approaches you.

he places the items on a side table and begins to wipe your stomach off slowly, the warmth on the cloth soothing you further. “open your legs, please.” chris already had began to physically separate them but he asks you to open them so that you feel in control of yourself anyways.

“sweet girl,” he compliments and smiles as he wipes your thighs down, kissing your stomach again before making his way to throw the cloth into a laundry basket.

you hum at him and lift yourself up to watch as he opens one of his drawers and offers one of his t-shirts to you.

you slip it over your head easily and he hands you a water bottle and your phone before crawling into his bed with you. you curl up to his chest and he hands you the bowl of grapes which you don’t question because you’re hungry as fuck, why would you deny it?

you thank him and he thanks you for coming to see him tonight.

you both smile into a kiss and you continue to finish your grapes as he closes his eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

🍊✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ

AW! everyone cheered. and came (probably)

got inspo for the end bc of this lmao :

also go listen on spotify for vibes

[pit-and-the-pen]

Dirty Little Secret

Day 3 of @erisweekofficial: healing/betrayal

Summary: You were one of Beron’s top spies, your assignment, Eris. Little did you know how complicated that was going to get…

Warnings: Beron being awful, burning, violence + injury

WC:2.7k

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

You woke up to find the other side of the bed already empty. This has become the new normal for you. The past few months you would go to bed wrapped around Eris and come morning he would be gone. It was really for the best.

Even if he was doing it to protect your image. something he didn’t need to worry about in the slightest. Eris believed you were nothing more than a newly appointed lady, and didn't question your sudden arrival into the court. The very opposite in fact, he had approached you first. Took you riding less than a week after first introducing himself. You never expected to enjoy his company so much, never intended on sneaking off into hidden corners of the palace to press his lips against yours.

It had all happened so quickly that you were still struggling to wrap your mind around it. Every time the guilt threatened to eat you alive. But as you rolled over and barrier your face into a pillow that still smelt of cloves and pine, you couldn’t find it in yourself to put a stop to it. 

A knock on the door had you quickly tugging your discarded dress over your head. It cracked open to reveal one of Berons men. 

“You’re needed.” Was all he said, voice clipped and annoyed. You fought the urge to roll yours eyes 

-------

Beron’s office was one of your least favorite places to be, second only to the tunnels of dungeons he has hidden under the forest palace. At Least those places didn’t hide what they were used for. Didn’t try to go through all the pomp and posturing that had no one fooled. Berons office was covered in dark mahogany wood, lush and dark velvets. If it was anyone else in the room it would be homey. But with Beron’s anger like a pulsing heartbeat in the room, it felt like walking into a tomb. 

“Report.” He barely looked up from the papers in front of him. 

”There’s nothing to report.” You told Beron as you stood across from his desk. 

“I’m not paying you to sleep with my son. I’m paying you to find out what he’s up to.” 

You didn’t back down, didn’t break his stare. “You told me to do whatever it took to get him to talk, to trust me. And I’m telling you, he hasn’t told me anything.”

”Then keep looking.” He waved his hand in a clear dismissal. You gave a curt nod of your head and exited the room without looking back. 

You traveled down the hidden passages of the palace, wanting to avoid contact with anyone that would be more than happy to sell the information of you leaving Beron’s office. The paths were designed for servants to travel without being seen, which was more than fine with you. After all, you were no different than a servant for Beron. YOu mind was spinning, replaying the conversation. Keep looking. It was such a ridiculous notion. You spent every minute you could with Eris but Beron refused to believe that he simply wasn’t up to anything at all. Convinced that his son was plotting something he just didn’t know what or who with. 

Nevermind that you had noticed that Eris was going somewhere, but it wasn’t worth drawing attention to until you had more details. You found a small part of you that didn't want those answers. Didn’t want to pry information out of the sweet redhead that was slowly starting to consume your thoughts. 

The passageway opened up right next to the door to the garden and you decided a walk would be the perfect way to clear your head. The crisp autumn air always helps you relax. The slight bite that reminded you of each breath. 

Soon enough, the perfectly manicured lawns gave way to winding pathways and thick forest. You could hear the sounds of birds flying in the high branches, animals crunching on the fallen leaves. A pair of hands at your waist had you spinning quicker than you could process, your arm braced against their throat as you backed them against a nearby tree. Warm amber eyes were open wide in shock. 

“Oh my gods.” You scrambled and stepped away from a rather surprised Eris.

He rubbed his neck lightly with a hand, “Remind me to never sneak up on you again.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

He wrapped a hand around your front, pulling you tight against him. 

“I think I can maybe forgive you. If…” He trailed off. YOu rolled your eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off your face. 

“If?” You raised an eyebrow at him, head slightly inclined up to look at him as he pressed himself closer. 

“I’ll think about forgiving you if you kiss me.”

“I’d kiss you even if you didn’t.” You rose onto your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his. When you tried to pull away he placed his free hand on the back of your mouth, pushing him even closer against him. You smiled into the kiss, lips tugging up as he pulled away, starting a slow trail along your jaw.

“I love you” He whispered against the skin of your neck. You felt your whole body tense at the words, his hands freezing their path along your waist. no.no.no.no

“Eris. You can’t mean that.” Your voice was desperate. Begging him to take it back. 

“Why can’t I? I'll be high lord someday. We won't have to hide from my father then.” 

“You only just met me.”

”And in all of my long life I have never felt this way about anyone.”

The mother had to be playing some kind joke. In any different lifetime, in any different world this would be the greatest thing you’ve ever heard. In a different life you would have shouted the words back, wrapped your arms around his neck and loved him without abandon. But this was not another world and the mother had always been cruel. You pulled away despite every nerve telling you to pull him closer. 

“ You can’t because I don’t love you. Eris,” The words felt so wrong, you focused on anything but the way his face dropped. “How could I ever love you? I would be stuck in this awful court forever.” You tried to make the words sound sincere, prayed he wouldn’ pry and push because you couldn’t say them again. Your heart couldn’t take it.

”I’ll change it. I would change it all for you. Please. You can’t mean this.” Tears lined his gorgeous eyes, cheeks already reddening. You could only shake your head. You pried yourself out of his grip, putting distance between the two of you. 

“I thought I could do this. But I..I can’t. I’m so sorry.” 

The cold air that had just been refreshing seemed to be tormenting you as it bit at the skin of your cheeks,stinging the wet skin. You pushed into the palace and didn’t pause as you opened the hidden door, slinking in the dark hallway until you were at the entrance right outside of your room before collapsing into your bed. 

-------

“Find someone else.” You slammed your palms down onto the wood of Beron’s desk. The glass figure on his desk wombling slightly at the force. 

“I don’t think I remember asking for your opinion.” He rose from his chair, his guards hands went to rest on the swords by their sides. 

“He isn’t going to tell me anything anymore.”

“And how, pray tell, did you manage to mess up that badly.” He snarled out at you. 

“He said he loved me. I, of course, said I didn’t. No way in hell he tells me anything anymore. So find someone else if you want information that badly.”

“I gave the job to you.”

“And I’m telling you I don’t want it.”

“You believe you have a choice in all of this. Do I need to remind you that I own you, you wokr for me. And you certainly do not get to tell me what you will and won’t do. So I will remind you of my request from when you started. Do what you have to.” 

Metallic blood filled your mouth as you bite your tongue to hold back the curses you wanted to spew  at the High Lord in front of you. Scream at the world for putting you into this position in the first place. But instead, you merely gave Beron a deep mocking bow and turned to walk out of his office. 

You had the plan hatched before you had even arrived back to your room. It was simple. Something Eris had joked about in passing. Beron was never going to let you go, so you would have to leave. Before you did, you would need to see eris one last time. Explain to him what had really been going on the whole time. And hope it would only take a kiss this time for him to forgive you. 

The door to his room was slightly open which was unusual for him. It was closed whether he was in it or not. Dread filled your stomach as you pushed open the door. The smell of burnt fabric quickly filled your nose, the rug on the floor burnt and melted at the edges. There had been a struggle. The perfectly organized table besides Eris’ bed had been overturned, books strewn across the floor. The glass rose you had given him lay shattered beside them. 

Picking up the edges of your skirt, you sprinted down the hallways, running so fast your lungs hurt with each stride but you had to get to him. 

You barreled through the doors of the throne room and were greeted with Beron casual sprawled out on the blood red chair. 

“Ah you decided to join us. Clever little fox.” Beron’s slow claps filled the air as you walked closer. 

Kneeling on the ground with guards surrounding him, was Eris. He struggled against the guards, heavy blue tinted manacles hung from his wrists. 

Eris opened his mouth to speak as his father raised a hand to him.

“I would consider your next moves very carefully.” Beron’s voice was like ice. the words crept over your skin, horror rising in you as he raised a hand to you. 

“Maybe you don’t have enough motivation.” Every single step you took echoed around the throne room. “I believe the two of you have met before. But allow me to do the proper introductions. (Y/n) is one of my newest spies.”

Eris struggled against the chains on his wrists. Eyes flickering up to you, honing in on the possessive hand his father had laid on your shoulder. 

“You’re lying.” He spit out at his father. 

Beron’s cruel laughter rang through the room. “Why don’t you ask her? But it's a shame, really, she won’t tell me anything… I wonder if she just needs some motivation.”  

That was when you saw it, one of Beron’s guard standing, a wreath of flames around his hand. “No. Please.” You felt a slap land on your face. 

“Then talk.”

“He didn’t tell me anything. I swear.”

“Such a shame.” Beron nodded at his guard. The man didn’t hesitate to rip the back of Eris’ shirt. 

“Stop.” But your screams of protest were blocked out by the sound of flesh sizzling. Eris ‘ body went tense, the muscles in his face contorting. He didn’t release a single sound as the guard repeated the action. You went to move but someone was already there, pinning your arms to your side. You were forced to watch him place his hand over and over again onto eris’ back. 

“Please. It’s me that failed, don’t punish him fo-”

“You think I’m doing this because of you?” Beron shouted down at you, rising from his throne. “My son is hiding things from me, that’s why I’m doing this. I could give a shit about your or his attraction.” 

Beron took a step, grabbing your chin with his hand. A motion that had you baring your teeth at him. 

“I think it goes without saying that you no longer have a position in my court. I’ll grant you the courtesy of an hour's head start.” He turned to his men, who were already looking at you with feral grins, “Then the hunting begins.” He shoved your face away from him, his guards releasing their hold on your arms. They screamed in pain but as you looked at eris, panting and half conscious on the ground, you didn’t feel the pain. Only the rippling anger as you looked at the male you had grown to love in a very short amount of time. 

Beron and his men filed out of the throne room, not sparing another glance at you or Eris. Leaving the heir of autumn to struggle to remove the chains himself. You moved with ease, catching him right when his feet slipped out from under him. He recoiled from your touch like it had burned worse than the guard.

You caught a glimpse at his back and tried to fight back the burning tears. You managed to unlatch the cuffs, letting them fall to the ground with an echoing clatter. You pushed them away with your feet, keeping your eyes trained on Eris’ back. The skin red and leaking, you could feel the heat coming off in waves as you tried to lift him to his feet. When you couldn’t you helped him onto his front, cradling his head, running your fingers through his hair. 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to love me, and I wasn’t supposed to love you.” You spoke into his hair, bent down with your face pressed against the side of his neck.

“How could I not?” His voice was hoarse and quiet. You let out a soft laugh, tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“I’ll kill him for this.” You said, pulling Eris’ head into your lap. Leaning down, you placed a kiss on Eris' forehead and started planning how you were going to make Beron pay for what he did to Eris. 

Your mind was racing with ideas of how to make him pay for every shred of pain that he had made his sons feel, for the terror he reigned on his court. And found a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips as you thought of how much you would enjoy it.

[stickywhiteash]

Down with the Sickness // Kakashi x Reader

Warning: None! Only fluff

An hour ago you were in a deep peaceful slumber. Nothing in the world could have disturbed you; that is, until your alarm to take your medications screamed at you. Every ten minutes it sounded off, blaring into your eardrums and every time you ‘woke’ back up a cough followed by sniffling came with.

You‘ve been sick for 3 days now and it doesn’t seem to get better. You writhe in agony from the body aches and fever.

A pill or two with some water would ease your pain, but the glass is empty. Dry swallowing the pill is an option; however, you’d face the chance of it not going down properly and tasting the bitter medicine melting in your mouth. Getting up to refill the glass is would be another option if it weren’t for the fact that outside your warm cozy covers awaits a cold cruel world. Thus your current predicament of snoozing the alarm for an hour straight whilst falling half asleep every time.

With all of your whining underneath the blankets, you miss the front door’s handle jiggle a couple of times before opening wide.

Kakashi steps into your home with an arm full of groceries. The first thing he notices is how the place looks barely lived in. Last he recalled, you weren’t on a mission for the past week. Placing the food on the counter, he investigates where you could be. On cue, your alarm goes off again, drawing his attention to the room at the end of the hallway.

An endless amount of tissues scatter all over the place, coupled with a few take out boxes, and plastic bags. The giant lump shivering in the middle of the bed catches his eye. Hand reaching out, he pets you as if you’re a house cat.

His sudden touch jolts you upright, swinging the covers off. Your fist narrowly misses Kakashi.

“Woah,” he heartily chuckles, “Still feisty as ever”

“What’re you doing here..?”

“Making sure you’re still alive. I haven’t heard from you in a while—“

Coughing in between words, you sarcastically reply, “You’re worried about little old me? That’s sweet.”

Kakashi places the back of his hand on your forehead, confirming his suspicions. You wrap yourself tightly with the blankets, now feeling the chilly air you accidentally exposed yourself to.

Pulling you into a warm embrace, he asks, “When’s the last time you ate or showered”

You lean into the hug, taking in his scent. “Can’t recall.. I really don’t feel so good.”

“Mm. Well that won’t do!”

Blanket ripped off your body, he picks you up off the bed. You cling on to him tightly, asking what the hell he’s doing. Try as you might to fight the shinobi, your strength just isn’t there. Profanities fill the home coupled with demands to put you down.

“Here we are, Stinky.”

He places you down, feet first in the bathroom. Pressing his lips to your forehead, he closes the door before you can protest once again.

The patter of feet fade into the distance as you are left dumbfounded.

‘That bastard didn’t even give me clothes.’

Huffing, you turn the shower on and let it steam up the room. Once the water is scalding to the touch, you hop in and sit in the bathtub. All of the pain could not be further from the back of your mind. Eyes close, taking in the soothing feeling of the water dripping down your body. Soap carried away with your worries. Droplets hitting your back act as a little massage.

A knock on your door causes your eyes to snap wide open and look towards the source of the noise.

“Are you okay in there? You’ve been showering for quite a while. You didn’t slip and hit your head did you?”

“No I’m fine! Finishing up right now!”

Kakashi unlocks the door using his fingernail and opens it just enough to sneak in fresh clothes and a towel.

“Take your time, but I do warn your food will get cold if you take too long”

Once again the door closes, but his footsteps are drowned out by the shower.

After getting changed, you head out to the kitchen where you find Kakashi leaning against the wall, reading his favorite literature. He looks up at you then place it on top of the table.

“You’re alive. I was worried the sickness had over taken you in the bath,” he jokes, moving over to you.

“Do you really think so lowly of me?”, you reply, feigning hurt.

“Of course not. You’re the strongest person I know.” Kakashi wraps his arms around you and plants a kiss atop your head. “And now, you’re not the stinkiest person I know.”

“Hey!” You attempt to break out of his embrace but he only squeezes you tighter. “I’ll probably die by your hug before this illness gets me!”

A hearty chuckle fills the air as he lets go. Another smooch is placed on your cheek. “I’d kiss you on the lips, but I really don’t plan on catching whatever you have,” Kakashi says, pulling a chair for you to sit. “So are your sinuses more cleared up? If not, this soup should do the trick.”

“If you made it extremely spicy, I won’t forgive you.”

“Cross my heart, I did not.”

Flu medicine sits next to your food. Kakashi also takes a seat next to you but doesn’t start eating. Instead, he’s got this goofy look on his face as he stares at your face. All of the love and adoration in the world can be seen in his eye (and the other one too if it wasn’t closed). Even on your worst days, he’ll be by your side.

[ellievickstar]

Is this Love?

A/N: So I wanted to do an an enemies to lovers and I thought: What better character to start with then Cardan Greenbriar. I really hope this is okay I know that @aroseinvelaris love the cruel prince so this is for you love <3

Summary: The king is the most infuriating person alive. But every time he looks at you, you feel your skin burn and your heart skips a beat. You hate the way he makes you feel alive, but you especially hate his obnoxiousness and horrible addiction to partying. However, after a night of drinking and reveling, what will you do when the King of Elfhame seeks you out?

Request: N/A

Pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x noble faerie!reader

Warnings: !!!Disclaimer!!!This does not follow the actual storyline, I’m kinda just winging it since it’s been some time since I’ve read the books and also I wanna get comfortable with the character first!!! Enemies to lovers, a bit toxic, intoxication, physical contact, being held against ones will

~*~*~*~*~

You wanted to kill him. “What. Did. You. Say.” You asked again, glaring at the King you were supposed to respect. You curled your fingers into a fist as they dug crescents into your palms. The king lazily smirked at your frustration, the papers you had given him falling out of his hand onto the floor.

“Your idea is dismal at best. It lacks any intellectual reasoning at it is also by far one of the worst that your family has ever presented me. You may be the representing noble, but honestly this presentation is just sad and pathetic,” You gaped, rolling your eyes as you snatched the papers from the ground, storming out of the room. That asshole. How dare he!? How dare he insult your ideas like that, knowing that you and your father had worked hard on those proposals together. How dare he insult your intelligence when he can barely even go a day without becoming intoxicated and doing something stupid at those parties he holds!

Fury bubbled within you as you stormed to your home. Waving your hands in the air as you ranted and raved about the King, you mumbled strings of curses and insults to yourself. That- That arsehole. That empty headed, intoxicated, narcissistic, egoistic, think-skulled arsehole. Start praying that he becomes sober because one more word out of that mouth will get him killed, either by your hands or some pissed-off royal from another far away powerful land.

Slamming the papers onto the table of your office, you sighed heavily, collapsing onto the armchair behind you. Being one of Elfhame's few females that is a representing noble for her family was far from easy. Especially when that lazy dumbass king that sat on his ass and drank all day already had prejudices against you since you were both children. You might have to reconsider killing him because, well, why not? Cardan Greenbriar is one of the most incompetent people in the entire kingdom and he still dared to insult YOUR intelligence. A scholar, the same lady who literally saved him from being murdered at the coronation. The absolute audacity!

You growled impatiently as you ran your hands through your hair. Sure, you might not be the oldest noble, but he hadn't even spared you a thought before tossing your ideas down the drain. What was so terrible about giving free education to poorer families in Elfhame? Was he so narrow-minded, so spoiled, so entitled, that he didn't realise that there are still fae out there suffering!?

"I guess it's back to the drawing board huh!?" You whipped your head around to your father. He smiled at you, crows feet appearing at the corners of his eyes, his hair white, his skin sunken and wrinkled. Human. Your father was human. Your mother had been the fae one, though she died at birth. However, you never felt her absence as your father had never let you doubt for one moment that you were absolutely loved. You softened at the sight of your father. He was old, weak. Definitely not things that were valued by the fae. And if it hadn’t been for your fae heritage and your father’s deep-rooted connections, you could be living a very different life.

“I’ll worry about that, you just rest, Pa,” Prompting your father gently to go to bed. He nodded, pride shining in his eyes, as he walked out humming a simple tune. Your heart broke at the thought of living a life after he dies, but it was inevitable. You had to figure this out on your own. Lest, Mr. I-hate-everything, would be breathing down your neck.

Sighing, you turned to your desk, riddled with stacks if loose papers and books. You had to figure something out, present something, you promised yourself. You would not let the king trample your idea of a better Elfhame.

~*~*~*~*~

You were…..so tired. Well that was one way to put it. How did some humans do this their whole lives? You had pulled an all-nighter to rewrite the reports that the King wanted and you couldn’t believe how truly exhausted you were. When you heard from your father that some humans do this from the time they are in middle school, you wanted to faint. You could barely hold it together as you changed clothes into a formal gown.

Regardless, it was done. Thankfully, you were finally done with the piles of work that you had delayed for so long. If you were lucky, the King would give you a day off. Trudging to the Palace of Elfhame, you let out a sigh as you smoothed down your skirts once more. Approaching the doors, you flinched when you heard laughter and the cacophony of a party from the inside.

“When will someone finally have a vendetta against me and murder me in my sleep,” You mumbled as you pushed open the doors, faltering slightly as you noticed the insane amount of people dancing and laughing under the influence. At the centre of it all, Cardan lazed on his throne, grinning as he held a goblet of what you guessed was a mixture of his favourite alcohols.

You were about to turn around and leave, however Cardan spotted you and promptly called out your name above the loud and jarring music. Realising that he was probably drunk and wouldn’t remember this anyways, you continued walking, huffing to yourself when you heard footsteps following you. Cardan’s footsteps.

“Wait! Would you listen to your King and just wait!?” You ignored him, despite your efforts, he still caught up to you, stepping in front of you to block your path. He reeked of alcohol, and….was that substances?

“Are you high!? And drunk!? It’s not even a weekend Cardan!” You yelled in his face. If he was both of those things he wouldn’t remember this anyways, so might as well get it off your chest. “You are so infuriating, you are not responsible, you barely make right judgments without your advisors, you are always a little bit drunk. You are not fit to be King. Let’s not even mention the fact that you always look down on me for being half-human! I hope yo-,” You couldn’t finish your sentence as you kept trying to shove Cardan, because as you tried to continue screaming at him, he caught your wrist and pulled you in roughly, meeting your with a kiss.

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: I don’t know about this….but eh. No harm no foul in trying. Honestly, I don’t think this is the worst fic I have ever written. So- I hope you had fun reading this. I had a little fun writing this. See you next time <3

(ALSO THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 400 FOLLOWERS)

tag list: none for this character yet

[sitp-recs]

Top five smutty fics/moments in fic please Livvy (and they can't all be from euphoria 🧐)

You know me all too well babes 🤡 lol yeah I could definitely do a top 5 just for Euphoria, considering the amount of hot stuff in there (and the amount of times I’ve read it 🌝). This was hard enough for Drarry so I’m not including rare pairs this time. Here are my top memorable scenes - funny, no matter how much filth I read it’s always the tenderness that sticks with me…

1. Far From Tree by aideomai

He rocked into Potter, slow and then again, and Potter said, voice shaking, “You’re inside me,” and Draco almost sobbed. It felt overwhelming, too much.

“Draco,” Potter said. He turned his face and they kissed slowly, barely moving. A long, golden kiss, and it still didn’t feel close enough. Draco wanted to crawl into Potter’s skin and live there. He wanted to eat him alive.

“Okay,” Potter said, “okay, okay,” and wriggled, demanding, and Draco did fuck him then, sure and easy, Potter’s thigh lifting up into his hold, his back arching up, his mouth open as Draco knocked shocked, pleased noises from him. They were getting loud, getting fast, the hot blur of it, and then Potter hooked his arm around Draco’s neck and drew him down and they were kissing again, rough and clumsy, the sharp tap-tap-tap of Draco’s hips knocking them off balance.

“Darling,” Draco said, muddled against his mouth, half out of his head with pleasure, “darling, darling,” and Potter, gasping, said, “Again.” Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted the fuck or the names that spilled out of him without meaning to, the embarrassing, heavy-handed adoration, and so Draco gave him both.

2. The Boy Who Only Lived Twice by lettered

“Look at me,” Malfoy said, and turned Harry's chin. Harry looked, watched Malfoy taking him, watched as his own hips came up to help him. “I want you to know it’s me,” Malfoy said. “It’s me taking you. Me fucking you. Me packed tight inside of you. Hold on, Harry.”

He was almost all the way out of Harry, he had pulled so far out, but now he slammed back in, head thrown back. “That was a good one, wasn't it,” Malfoy said, and kissed him. “If you're good, I’ll give it to you again.”

“God, Malfoy. Do it.”

“I will,” Malfoy said, but now his thrusts were slow again, lazy. “Focus on me, Harry. Don’t think of anything else.” Then he did it again, thrusting hard and very fast, and Harry writhed. “It’s me,” Malfoy said again. “Don’t think of anyone else. Don’t think of anything else. You can only think of me.”

3. Wild, orphaned

“Sometime,” Potter said, with a look on his face Draco didn’t quite recognise, “I’m going to make you ask for this.”

“I’m already asking,” Draco replied, parting his legs, drawing one knee up to his chest. Potter put his thumb back onto Draco’s arsehole for a few seconds, before replacing it with the head of his dick. He left it there, while Draco breathed in and out and tried not to push himself backwards onto it.

“No,” Potter said, “Like--” he cut off and wrapped his hand around Draco’s side, his fingers skimming over Draco’s hip bones. “Like, properly ask,” he said.

“Like beg?” Draco asked, turning to look. He smiled, syrupy and sweet. “Why would I need to beg, Potter? When you’re so eager to give it to me.”

4. What We Pretend We Can’t See by gyzym

“Harry,” Draco says, wondering, and Harry rolls his eyes and slams himself up, the first time, feels his whole body come alive with the sensation of Draco’s cock hitting hard against the back of his throat. Draco gets the idea and it’s quick, after that — he tightens his grip on Harry’s hair and fucks into Harry’s mouth and Harry lets him, encourages him, moans even as tears spring up at the corners of his eyes.

He grabs hold of Draco’s shirttails with both hands and holds on, and when he looks up to meet Draco’s eyes again Draco comes with a shout, body pitching forward, one hand still in Harry’s hair, the other landing on Harry’s shoulder to steady him. Harry sucks him through it, swallows down every drop before he lets Draco’s softening cock slip out of his mouth, and they’re both still for a second, gasping in the quiet room.

Then Draco says, “Merlin, Harry, that was so good,” and slips his hand down through Harry’s hair, strokes it over the nape of his neck. And Harry — he comes so hard and so quickly that it genuinely startles him, the orgasm shuddering through him before he even has the chance to process that it’s happening. He gasps, head crashing forward to land at Draco’s hip, and for a long moment he’s too overcome with the release of it to really register that he’s come in his pants like an actual fucking teenager, and that that is truly and properly mortifying.

5. Waiting by an Open Door by Femme

Draco leans back against Potter, arches back, his arms going backwards around Potter's neck. He lets Potter stroke his chest and praise him, tell him how brilliant he is, how amazing his feels around Potter's prick. It feels like it's been hours that they've been doing this, but it's only been a couple of minutes. The strangeness is shifting into pleasure, and when Potter circles his hips, his cock pressing further into Draco's body, Draco moans with the deep, satisfying ache of it. "Merlin, Potter. Again."

Potter leans forward, his mouth near Draco's ear. "Don't you think you should call me Harry if I'm fucking you?"

Draco smiles, leans his head back, seats himself more solidly on Potter's cock. "Why rush things?" He kisses Potter's jaw, bites the soft skin just below.