#also the rest of the crews are there too don’t worry. i just didn’t want this to get too unweildly just yet

[backhurtyy]

okay hear me out… gentlebeard enchanted au

stede lives in the real world, working a corporate job as a manager or lawyer or something like that. he and mary are divorced amicably after being shoved together because their parents were old family friends, and he takes care of alma and louis on the weekends. all things considered he has a pretty good life, but he’s just… lonely and unhappy and disenchanted with life. he wants companionship, magic, love… the stuff of fairytales.

ed lives in the fairytale world, where he’s still a pirate, still blackbeard, still feared across the seas. but he’s getting tired of that life, of constantly being on the go. his knee gets a little worse with each day, he doesn’t heal as fast as he used to, he doesn’t get any joy from it anymore. he’s bored and tired and lonely, because despite being the most famous pirate, no one really gets close to him out of fear. he wants a quiet life with a partner, someone that he can sit down next to and call home. the closest thing he has to a friend is izzy, but he’s half the reason why ed hasn’t been able to find that— whenever he mentions it, izzy starts going on about how “you’re fucking blackbeard, you can’t fucking retire.”

and then, through some means— a cyclone created by a witch, a spell cast by a rival pirate, whatever— ed is transported to the real world. it’s loud and dizzying and confusing and izzy is nowhere to be found, and ed doesn’t know what to do. he spends the night trudging through the rain and dark, trying to find his way to the ship even though he knows he won’t find it. stede, meanwhile, is picking up alma and louis from mary’s for their weekend at their house, when he finds ed, standing by the billboard of a ship that stands by the mini golf circuit. before he can stop them, alma and louis are rushing out to talk to him, this man in leather with a gun strapped to his thigh.

anyways stede takes him in, because he’s cold and wet and limping and yeah okay maybe he’s a little handsome. but he’s still on edge because he has his kids to look after, and the stories ed tells are definitely not suitable for children to hear and the way he talks about this izzy guy makes stede worry about their safety should he show up, the way ed seems so sure he will. so he takes ed to work with him to try and get him help, but he has no money or ID or passport or anything, so they’re stuck together. they spend the next few days together, eating food and walking around the city, and despite all his worries stede is just so helplessly enchanted by ed and his reactions and his stories and how much alma and louis love him already.

ed, meanwhile, is having the best time he’s had in ages. he’s laughing more than he ever has, his knee has gotten a break due to stede’s heating pad, he’s excited by the prospect of waking up and seeing what this strange world has to offer. but it’s bittersweet, too, because he knows izzy will be looking for him. and when he finds him— he always finds ed, that’s why he’s such a good first mate— he’ll drag him back to their world. away from happiness. away from stede.

sure enough izzy shows up and they get in a big fight, one involving lots of sword fighting and shouting and the vicious sort of bickering that comes with a decades long friendship. finally though ed manages to get izzy pinned down, and he tells him that izzy can go back and take up the mantle of blackbeard, but ed is done. he doesn’t want to leave stede or the life he’s found, because he’s finally happy for once. he’s finally in love with something again.

so izzy leaves and ed stays with stede and his family, and he gets that sense of home and excitement that he’d been craving while stede gets all the love and magic of a fairytale, and they find their happily ever after together.

[hurtblossom]

Lover ln4

Pairing : Lando Norris x Female!Reader

Summary : In the middle of heartbreak and unspoken feelings, (Y/N) finds her place both behind the camera and in Lando Norris’s life, as they cautiously build a connection worth risking everything for.

Warning : Nothing, just fluff

Part 2 to this

The weeks after Lando’s confession felt surreal. (Y/N) wasn’t sure what to expect after their conversation at the café. It wasn’t as though everything could change overnight—she was still cautious, her heart too bruised to let down all its defenses. But Lando seemed to understand that. He didn’t push. Instead, he found little ways to show her he meant what he’d said.

One evening, as she sat editing footage from their latest shoot, her phone buzzed with a notification. It was Lando.

Lando: What’s the best pizza topping combo? Lando: Asking for a very important debate.

She smiled, shaking her head.

(Y/N): Margarita. Classic and unbeatable. (Y/N): Why?

His response came almost instantly.

Lando: Wrong answer. Lando: Pineapple is the GOAT. Lando: Max agrees. Lando: Ria thinks we’re all insane. Lando: Also, I just wanted to check in. Lando: How’s your night?

Her smile faltered for a moment, her chest tightening at the unexpected warmth in his words. He didn’t have to do this—reach out to her, make her feel seen. But he did.

(Y/N): Busy, but good. Thanks for asking. You?

Lando: Better now that I know you’re not buried in stress. Lando: Don’t stay up too late, yeah?

It was a small exchange, but it left her heart lighter. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe, just maybe, Lando was trying to prove he cared in ways she hadn’t dared to hope for.

~~~

The next Quadrant shoot was a return to the ridiculous antics the team was known for—a blindfolded cooking challenge. (Y/N) arrived early, as usual, setting up her cameras and prepping the equipment. She was adjusting the lighting when Lando walked in, his hair slightly messy, a lazy grin on his face.

“Morning, chef,” he teased, stopping beside her. “Ready to document the greatest culinary disaster of our time?”

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “If by ‘greatest’ you mean ‘most unappetizing,’ then absolutely.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You know, I’m pretty sure I can bribe you for some favorable edits. Just say the word.”

“Bribe me with what? Pineapple pizza?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

He clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me. But yes, pineapple pizza. It’s the ultimate peace offering.”

Their playful banter caught the attention of the others, who immediately started teasing.

“Oi, Lando, stop flirting and get over here!” Max called out, earning a round of laughter from the crew.

(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm, but Lando seemed unfazed, flashing her a quick wink before heading to join the chaos. She watched him go, her heart fluttering despite her best efforts to stay grounded.

Quiet Moments

The shoot was a success—messy, chaotic, and hilarious, as always. But it was the quiet moments afterward that lingered in her mind.

While the rest of the team celebrated their “culinary masterpieces” in the lounge, (Y/N) stayed behind in the studio, packing up her gear. She was stacking tripods when Lando walked in, a takeaway box in hand.

“Figured you’d still be here,” he said, holding out the box. “Saved you some food. Don’t worry, no pineapple.”

She blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, his expression casual but his tone warm. “I wanted to. You always take care of us, so… someone’s gotta look out for you too.”

Her chest tightened, and she accepted the box with a soft “thank you.” They sat together on the edge of the stage, the studio quiet around them.

“You’ve been quieter lately,” he said after a moment, glancing at her. “Not just today—since you came back. Is it… because of me?”

She hesitated, fiddling with the corner of the box. “It’s not you, Lando. Not exactly. I just… I’m still figuring out where I fit in all this.”

“You fit,” he said firmly, his gaze steady. “More than you know.”

The sincerity in his voice made her throat tighten. She wanted to believe him, but the lingering insecurities were hard to shake. Still, his words stayed with her long after they left the studio that night.

~~~

Weeks passed, and (Y/N) began to notice subtle changes in their dynamic. Lando seemed to go out of his way to include her, whether it was during shoots or group outings. He started inviting her to lunch with the team, pulling her into conversations, even teasing her on camera—moments that often left her flustered but secretly thrilled.

One afternoon, during a rare day off, he texted her out of the blue.

Lando: Fancy a karting rematch? Lando: I promise not to go easy on you this time.

The memory of their last impromptu race—a chaotic, laughter-filled mess where she’d somehow beaten him—brought a smile to her face.

(Y/N): Rematch? (Y/N): You’re just mad you lost to me.

Lando: Exactly. Lando: My pride is on the line. Lando: Meet me at 3?

She hesitated for a moment before typing her reply.

(Y/N): You’re on.

When she arrived at the track, he was already there, leaning casually against a kart. He greeted her with a grin, his competitive energy infectious.

The race was as ridiculous as she’d expected, filled with trash talk, near collisions, and plenty of laughter. When she crossed the finish line—barely ahead of him—she threw her arms up in victory.

“Two for two,” she teased, removing her helmet. “You’re losing your touch, Norris.”

He laughed, pulling off his own helmet. “You’ve got a lucky streak, that’s all. Next time, it’s over for you.”

But as they stood there, still catching their breath, his expression softened. “Thanks for coming out today. I needed this.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, the vulnerability in his tone catching her off guard. “Me too,” she admitted quietly.

A Confession Revisited

The real turning point came one evening after a late shoot. The team had gone out to celebrate, but (Y/N) stayed behind, finishing up some last-minute edits. She was so focused on her laptop that she didn’t notice Lando until he spoke.

“You’re always working,” he said, his voice warm.

She looked up, startled to see him standing in the doorway. “I could say the same about you.”

He grinned but didn’t respond, stepping closer until he was standing beside her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence filled with unspoken tension.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began, his tone careful. “About why you left.”

Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Lando, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he interrupted gently. “Because I hate that I made you feel like you didn’t matter. You do, (Y/N). You always have.”

Her breath caught, and she looked away, her heart pounding.

“I know I was blind before,” he continued, his voice soft but insistent. “But I see you now. And if you’re willing to give me a chance, I’d like to prove it.”

She stared at him, her emotions a whirlwind of hope and fear. “Lando… what if this doesn’t work? What if it changes everything?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said simply, his gaze steady. “But I think it’s worth the risk. Don’t you?”

For a long moment, she said nothing, the weight of his words settling over her. But then, slowly, she nodded, a tentative smile breaking through her uncertainty.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I think it is.”

The smile that spread across his face was brighter than she’d ever seen, and for the first time, (Y/N) felt like she wasn’t just behind the lens anymore. She was finally part of the story.

In the weeks that followed, their relationship grew slowly but surely, filled with small, meaningful moments—quiet conversations, shared laughter, and the steady reassurance that they were building something real. And though (Y/N) still carried traces of her old insecurities, Lando’s unwavering support made her believe that maybe, just maybe, she’d found her place—not just in the team, but in his heart.

taglist : @landossainz , @carloswife , @scopeiguess , @stylesmoonlight12 , @raynetargaryan2 , @rawr-123s-stuff , @myescapefromthislife , @nxk1309 , @bbg-blue-lock , @spooky-librarian-ghost , @lisa24x

[steddieas-shegoes]

ow

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'ow'

rated t | 926 words | cw: injury, hospitals | tags: established relationship, steddie, famous corroded coffin

🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕

Steve woke up to his phone ringing. He wouldn’t normally be too concerned about that happening, especially when it was barely eleven at night and Eddie was known to call when he got offstage for the night, but the ringtone wasn’t Eddie’s.

“Gareth?” Steve answered, heart already racing from the adrenaline of being woken up so quickly.

“Eddie fell!” Gareth’s voice was panicked as he spoke.

“Fell? Where? Is he okay?” Steve started to rush out of bed, mentally calculating what he would need to shove into a carry on bag to get to wherever Eddie was.

Dallas? Las Vegas? He forgot.

“Off the stage. He’s in the ambulance and we’re on our way to the hospital now. He was awake and yelling at us to call you when he left,” Jeff answered. Apparently Gareth had him on speakerphone. “I don’t think he hit his head, but he said his leg and hip hurt. Could have broken something.”

“Shit. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Steve threw his backpack on the bed, shoving his phone charger in first. “Send me the hospital info so I can try to call.”

“No, no. He said to tell you not to rush here.”

“His exact words were ‘’Tis but a scratch.’” Frankie said through the phone. “Which is code for he’s being very brave.”

“Exactly. I’ll be on the next flight to-“ Steve leaned over to check his printed out schedule of the tour. “Kansas City.”

“See you soon.”

****

When Steve arrived at the hospital, the entire crew filled the waiting room. A nurse was standing at the reception desk talking to Gareth, Jeff, and Frankie.

Steve rushed over to them.

“How is he?”

“They won’t let any of us see him. He’s been in recovery for two hours now.” Frankie said over his shoulder as he glared at nurse.

“Apparently Eddie doesn’t want to see anyone.” Jeff said as he turned to Steve. “Not until he saw you.”

“Okay, so let me see him.” Steve adjusted his backpack over his shoulder.

“He’s asleep. Nurse said he finally passed out about 15 minutes ago and he needs rest,” Gareth shook his head. “Dramatic bitch.”

“Wait. Recovery?” Steve shook his head. He needed to focus, figure out what was going on exactly. “He had surgery?”

“They had to repair his knee that he shattered. Idiot.” Frankie said before walking towards the crew.

“He’s just mad it took so long to find out anything. He was worried,” Jeff explained. “Glad you’re here now, man. Flight okay?”

“Got stuck in the middle seat between a business man who spent the entire flight calling his wife a bitch and a woman who spent the entire flight crying about leaving her boyfriend. Also anxious as hell. Pretty sure my leg is still numb from not sitting still.” Steve sighed. “Any way I can just go sit in his room?” He asked the nurse.

“Will everyone leave if I let you?” She asked in return.

“I’ll clear ‘em out.” Jeff promised as he patted Steve’s shoulder.

Gareth gave him a quick side hug before following Jeff to the crowded room.

The nurse still didn’t seem pleased, but she must’ve sensed that Steve would put up a hell of a fight. She nodded her head for him to follow her through the double doors to the elevators.

“Room 3186 is where he’ll be for the next 24-48 hours. Then he’ll either get released or moved to the inpatient physical therapy hall,” she explained as they rode up to the third floor. “That’s usually reserved for particularly slow healers and older people, so hopefully he’ll be able to do outpatient PT.”

“How long before he can go on stage?” Steve asked, already scared of the answer.

“I guess it depends on if he plans on falling off another one.”

Any other time, Steve probably would’ve laughed, but right now, he was full of too much anxiety.

“I doubt he planned on falling off of this one,” Steve snapped back.

She apologized when they got to Eddie’s room. “It’s just been rough dealing with that crowd.”

“Well, he’s got a lot of people who care about him.”

She gave him a small smile before leaving him to go into the room on his own.

Eddie was asleep, but Steve could tell it wasn’t a deep sleep. They must not be giving him strong medication.

Steve set his backpack down by the chair and sat down as quietly as possible.

When he looked over to Eddie, his eyes were open and his lips were turned down in a frown. “Ow.”

“Want me to call a nurse?” Steve leaned closer to the bed, worry creasing his brow.

“I broke my knee.”

“I know, baby.”

“Floor got me.”

“Yeah, it did,” Steve barely managed to hold back a laugh as Eddie sighed. “You wanna hold my hand?”

“Always.”

Steve watched as Eddie drifted back to sleep, his hand loose in his grasp.

He sent a text to Gareth to let him know he was with him and he was sleeping somewhat peacefully. He made sure to tell him they could all head back to the buses and vans if they hadn’t already.

Eddie got released two days later with a very intense PT schedule and a restriction on playing on stage standing up for four weeks.

When he got the cast and bandages off, his first stop was a tattoo parlor, where he got the word ‘ow’ tattooed over his kneecap, just above the scar from his surgery.

[grandline-fics]

id like to request something - desperate kiss prompt with kid💗 love how you write him hihi

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Desperate Kiss

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Kid

WORDS: 822

A/N: Thank you for the request! I also didn't realise it's Kid's birthday until I was finishing this. I hope you like what I came up with for Kid and this particular prompt

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

Kid was always so self-assured, confident to the point some would call it arrogance. He was a true pirate, he wasn’t going to just roll over and let someone else take something he wanted. He also wasn’t going to just give up on pursuing something he wanted because someone was there first. Life was too short in his eyes to live anything but how he wanted and he did it unapologetically. Kid thought he was unshakable and never considered himself capable of hesitation. Then you had to come along and throw a wrench into his perception and the worst part? You had no idea what you did to him and with every passing moment of being around you he felt like he was slowly losing grip on the situation and going mad. 

On the calm, dark waters the Victoria Punk idly sailed through Kid had settled into his watch for the night. Knowing how bored Kid could get you decided to join him at least for a little while. To pass the time you shared a drink and idly chatted, mostly reminiscing about past adventures and tavern brawls. Which led you to talk about the most recent trip on shore that had gotten out of hand. 

“That poor guy didn’t have a clue what was happening.” You laughed with a small shake of your head. “Did you really have to punch him with your metal hand though?”

“Why not? Fucker had it coming.”

“Maybe it was the drink I had that night but I can’t remember him really doing anything to warrant a fight until everyone got involved.” You tired to focus your memory but still nothing came to mind. “I mean one minute he was boasting about his own crew then you appeared.”

“You forgot the part he tried to recruit you to his crew.” Kid explained and you gasped, reaching out to grab Kid’s arm as the memory sharpened. 

“That’s right!” You laughed, how could you have forgotten? Then you grinned broadly. “Were you scared I’d be sweet-talked into switching crews?”

“Don’t be a moron.” Kid scoffed, doing nothing to move away from your touch. “I wasn’t letting some nobody think he could take what’s mine.” Your smile stretched at Kid’s choice of words. You were part of the crew long enough to interpret what he’d been trying to say. You were his crew, a member of his family and he was a very possessive person and violently protective of the things that were important to him. To think his motivations went beyond looking out for a member of his crew wasn’t even in your mind to consider. 

“That’s what makes you the best Captain there is.” You smiled before finishing your drink. With a sigh you got up from your seat, taking his empty mug into your hand as well. Kid watched you carefully, his mouth falling into a scowl as he realised you were turning in for the night and he still had a handful of hours to endure a boring watch. You spotted his sour expression and mistook it for the earlier topic of conversation. Playfully you rolled your eyes and leaned down, pressing a kiss against your Captain’s forehead. “Promise I’m not going anywhere Captain. Stop worrying okay?”

You smiled and as much as you wanted to head straight to bed, you instead began to head for the kitchen to leave off the mugs you’d both been drinking from. The last thing you wanted was a lecture from Killer about the deck being left in a mess needlessly. Behind you, you could have sworn you heard Kid mutter ‘fuck this’ and thought he was cutting the rest of his watch short because of of how quiet it was. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that so it wasn’t entirely unexpected. What was unexpected though was when you heard his rushed footsteps drawing closer. As you reached for the door to the galley you were sharply turned and your back pushed against the solid wooden door. “Kid, what the-”

Before you could finish your question, Kid’s hand secured itself against your hip and his lips pressed hungrily and eagerly against yours. Fuelled purely by the desperate need for you to see him as more than just a Captain and desperate for you to finally see how he felt about you he couldn’t help but act the way he had. Against your lips, his arrogant grin crept in when he heard you drop the mugs in your hands as your mind caught up to what was happening. As the clattered loudly against the floor, you grabbed his arm and the back of his neck, returning the kiss at last with equal need. Inwardly he berated himself for doubting himself and hesitating making a move, because had he known kissing you would be like this he would have done this a long time ago.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: things aren't looking too good, so the crew decides to open the cargo hold and find out just what you were delivering.

tw: nothing that isn't in the game.

a/n: Updates might be a bit more spaced apart, but I'm gonna see this to the end. I refuse to give up on it.

wc: 2k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

“I didn’t even wanna do this stupid internship.”

An admission into the night you're sure you weren’t meant to hear. Your insomnia grew worse, unable to get Curly’s painful screams out of your head or the plight you all found yourself. Only two months have passed, and you weren’t sure if anyone was even looking for you. Did Pony Express even have any tracking system to see if ships were down? Would they search when it was already too late? 

Your pessimism was shining through, but you tried to keep it to yourself, not wanting to smother Daisuke’s hope. It seems even he was prone to dark thoughts, but you’d be more concerned if he wasn’t worried at all. 

“If I just told my mom no I could be home right now,” Daisuke continued to mutter to himself. “Who am I kidding, I could never tell my mom no.”

“I wish you did,” you replied, eyes still closed and curled up in a ball.

“Y-you’re awake?” Daisuke gasped, but you made no sign of movement.

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your face farther into your pillow. “I wish you weren’t here.” Your words were harsh, causing the brunette to hesitate. You had gotten harsher after the crash, becoming more blunt.

But you had also gotten softer somehow. Sending him mixed signals, your harsh words softened when you gently stroked his cheek, eyes finally opening to meet his own. Anger, fear, sympathy, regret, so many emotions spun in your jewel colored eyes he almost felt dizzy. 

“I wish we met before this,” Daisuke said, voice cracking as he felt pressure form behind his eyes. Shit, he didn’t wanna cry, he had to be strong, for you and the rest of the crew. 

Your fingers brushed under his eye, catching a tear that was threatening to fall. Your silence felt warm, inviting, your gaze broke him, the dam breaking as his wishes spilled past his lips.

“I wish we were back on Earth. Hanging out in my room and this all just ended up being a bad dream. My mom calling us for dinner and everything is okay.” 

He was crying now, fat tears falling down his cheeks as you continued to stroke them. Daisuke wrapped his arms around your form, burying his face in your neck as he let out strangled sobs, not wanting to wake the others.

“I’m sorry,” You murmured into his hair, gently running your nails up and down his back in a soothing manner. “You don’t deserve this, none of us do.” 

…

“We ain’t touching the damn cargo,” Swansea argued. “The hold is locked down for a reason. The only thing worse than dyin’ slowly is not gettin’ paid.”

The whole argument seemed redundant. It seemed that Swansea was the only one against opening the cargo hold. He was a stubborn old fool in your opinion. If your speculation is right, and you won’t be looked for until your ship doesn’t come on time, then you’ll all have died from either starvation or lack of oxygen. Both those options seemed terrible to choose from, but a long, drawn out death was worse than a short painful one. For all you knew, you all were shipping food, or water, or something that could keep you all going just a bit longer. Especially since the cryo chambers were out of commission (not like there were enough for the six of you anyway. Besides, Curly had no chance to survive the freeze due to his wounds). 

“But it could be something useful,” Anya argued back. “I think-”

“Could be what?” Swansea cut her off. “Hopes, dreams and marzipan? Hah!”

“Could be food,” You interjected, glaring at the oldest of the crew. “Protein bars, chips, hell maybe we’re lucky enough to be carrying canned goods.”

“If it helps us survive it’s worth it,” Jimmy added with a nod. 

“Man,” Daisuke spoke up. “Pony Express bosses really aren’t chill at all, huh? C’mon, a quick look won’t hurt.” 

You nodded in agreement before Swansea brought up a good point, “How exactly is this group therapy committee planning on gettin’ in there?”

“Oh, right here boss,” Daisuke pointed to himself with a smug grin. “You’re looking at the meanest swing of the regional junior baseball team! Nearly straight up corked a kid once! I can take the utility ax-” You couldn’t stop the snort that came out of you, hiding your face behind your hands as everyone looked at you with various emotions. 

“You were goddamn born fully corked,” Swansea glowered, face twisted in a harsh sneer. 

“That’s enough, Swansea,” Jimmy intervened. “There has to be an ‘in case of emergency’ way inside.”

“If I remember correctly from reading the safety protocols…” Anya trailed off. “The doors should have an alternate access code, but it can only be uncovered using a code scanner device.”

“And only the captain has access to the scanner,” Jimmy continued. 

“Of course! Go ahead, just ask him all about it then,” Swansea mocked. “Maybe he’ll sing ya the blues too.”

“We can just look for the scanner,” You brought up. “It’s probably either in the captain's quarters or the cockpit.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Jimmy waved you off. “For better or worse, I’m captain now.” You tried your best to hide the offended look that fell on your face, but it was hard to do so when Jimmy rubbed you the wrong way. Sure, it made the most sense for him to be acting captain since he was Curly’s co-pilot, but you didn’t like the way he acted like he had to do everything himself. It was giving you ‘I need to do everything my way and feel better about myself’. 

“Right on!” Daisuke cheered, before you all split your ways. Anya ran off to medical, Swansea stopped Daisuke from following him while Jimmy probably went towards the cockpit. That left you and Daisuke to sit in the rest area, the led screen shone an image of a warm sunset, permanently stuck after the crash. 

“You really think there might be food in the cargo?” Daisuke asked, resting his head against the top of the chair.

“It’s probably wishful thinking,” You grumbled, taking the seat across from him.

“Damn,” He sighed. “I was kinda hopin’ for something other than soup.” 

“You dissing soup?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “I’ll take your portion too if you don’t want it.” Wait! No!” Daisuke exclaimed with a chuckle. “I take it back, I mean I love love love soup and want to eat it every day!”

“You’re such a dork,” You laughed, gently kicking his foot. 

The door slid open, halting your conversation as Jimmy walked up to you both. He stared at you both intently, and you felt a bit uncomfortable at the irritable stare in his eyes. You slowly realized he always looked that way.

“Looks like it’ll be soup again for dinner,” Daisuke spoke up first. “You wanna rock paper scissors for the chicken noodle?”

“That’s my favorite,” You pouted. Daisuke tended to make you feel more relaxed, no matter the situation.  “Ah, nevermind then,” He sighed. “It’s theirs.” Gosh, he never failed to make you feel warm either, even in your dire circumstances. 

“How much food do we have left?” Jimmy cut in, ignoring your banter altogether. 

“I’d say four months-ish,” Daisuke replied. 

“Hmm, less than the remaining air supply, but we can make it last,” Jimmy muttered to himself holding a hand up to his chin. “In theory. We’ll be poking new holes in our belts to pull that off.” The thought of starving unsettled you, but it was an unfortunate possibility. But then the question is how much air supply is left? That was something you couldn’t conserve…well, unless someone died…but even then it wouldn’t be much.

“Man, my mom will straight up stuff me when I get back,” Daisuke laughed, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “I’ll look like Swansea!” You chuckled bittersweetly, shaking your head amusedly. “We’ll have a rad story to tell,” Daisuke continued, looking between you and Jimmy with a strained smile. “They might even write articles about us. We could be on TV!” Once again there was a pit in your stomach. No matter the outcome, you were sure to appear on TV…

Jimmy also seemed uncomfortable, eyes shifting, and posture ridgid, “Uh, it’ll impress the ladies too.” You nearly broke out laughing at how awkward Jimmy was, coughing into your fist to hide it. Even funnier was it seemed he didn’t realize you and Daisuke were already in a relationship.

Daisuke looked confused, glancing at you briefly before uttering a confused, “Uh…yeah…the real problem is running out of toilet paper. Fatal stuff, man.” This time you couldn’t smother your laughter, hiding your face from the two men before you. 

“Seriously!” Daisuke emphasized, grin turning brighter at your laughter. “We should leave that part out for the press.”

“Totally,” You agreed. “Wouldn’t want the ladies to know.” This time Daisuke snorted, Jimmy nodding uncomfortably before leaving. The two of you cackled for a few more seconds before calming down.

“I thought everyone already knew we were dating,” Daisuke said, confused. “Not like we’ve been hiding it.”

“Just goes to show how much he cares,” You shrugged with a sigh. 

“You think he got the code scanner?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I’d think so,” You nodded. “Wanna head to the cargo hold?”

“Yeah.”

…

Mouthwash. 

You were hauling fucking mouthwash. 

It felt like a tiny bit of your sanity slipped away. You weren’t the only one though, everyone looking at the contents of the box in disbelief. 

“Mouthwash?” Anya asked in a shaky voice.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Swansea cursed. 

“There’s gotta be an ocean of the stuff in here!” Daisuke exclaimed. “The room looks freakin’ endless!” You felt dizzy staring at the rows upon rows of shelves, boxes stacked to the brim on each one. 

“This is what they’d have six people hauling for over a year?” Jimmy scoffed in disbelief. “All of this…for mouthwash?!” You tensed slightly at his shout, but quickly focused on Anya as she spoke up.

“The sugar content probably offsets any potential as a disinfectant…” Anya informed, reading the ingredient content. Great, this was completely and totally useless-

“Disinfectant? What’re you-” Swansea grumbles. “Let me see that!” Snatching the bottle Swansea reads the contents as well. “Fourteen percent ethanol.” Suddenly he bursts out laughing, seeming a bit manic. 

“Haha?” Daisuke gave a confused laugh, clearly not understanding the implications. “I s’pose we’ll smell good at least…?”  “That’s right kiddo! You can bet your ass on that!” Swansea continued to laugh. 

“W-what are you doing?” Anya stuttered, eyes wide in concern. “Stop that!” Instead, Swansea starts to chug the blue liquid, causing your stomach to churn. 

“Whew-whee,” Swansea, sighs. “Ohhh, shut up. I’m just an ol’ codger taking care of his dental hygiene.”

“You hear that?” Swansea continues, glancing at you all. “That’s the sound of fifteen years of sobriety popping like a cyst. A glorious, magnificent, red hot cyst. Good riddance and cheers! To Captain Curly! Hear, hear!”

“Guess anyone could get seriously blasted off of this stuff,” Daisuke mutters loud enough for us all to hear. 

“Yeah, and give you a seriously bad stomach ache,” You grumbled. 

“And kill you in the process,” Jimmy huffed. 

“This can’t be real,” Anya bemoans. “I-There’s no way…”

“Now we can go out in style,” Swansea grins nihilistically. “Daisuke! Come here! Anyone ever teach you how to drink like a man?” 

You felt your stomach drop, one alcoholic was bad enough, you would be damned to let Swansea drag Daisuke down with him. 

“C’mon,” You muttered, grabbing Daisuke’s hand and dragging him past the rest of the crew, head down. 

“Somthin’ wrong?” Daisuke asks once you're both back in the main hull. 

You blinked at him like he was dumb, “Seriously? This whole situation is wrong! And now Swansea’s out of commission if he’s gonna nurse that goddamned mouthwash!” You let out a frustrated sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“And he’s trying to take you down with him.”

“I won’t drink it if that’s what you’re worried about,” Daisuke mumbles softly, eyes filled with concern. 

You side-eyed him, feeling anxiety claw at your chest, “And how do I know you’ll keep that promise?”

Daisuke opened his mouth, but nothing came out, confirming your fears.

[haerenven]

♯┆SOFT SPOT .ᐟ ★ - roronoa zoro

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ────── ⋆ .⺌ ⟡ ⊂ ✦ ⊃ ⟡ ⺌.⋆ ────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ────── ⋆ .⺌ ⟡ ⊂ ✦ ⊃ ⟡ ⺌.⋆ ────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖

— you are the only person who can be trusted by Zoro when it comes to his swords, we all know how much he is so possessive and clingy and careful about his swords, but you were absolutely different

— he barely can handle anyone try to touch his swords, but her ?.. absolutely fine, you also sometimes clean his swords and blades until they get Completely clean

— “Zoro, I’ll borrow your swords” she said confidently before stand up and pulled His precious sword Wado Ichimonji and he actually didn’t mind at all ! , he was leaning his head on his arms that placed behind his head and muttered “don’t step over me”, she pulled the sword and looked at the little boy “let’s see what you’ve got” she said with deep tone, meanwhile Zoro lean forward the table, watching and absolutely enjoying the whole scene with proud smirk, and the little boy was He was trembling with fear.

— girls? NAH, her? HELL YEAH !!

— when you with both of Nami and robin go to shopping on new island you guys stopped in, Nami was showing her new clothes to the rest of the crew (with both of Sanji and brook compliment), Zoro was lay on floor on his side and didn’t look.., the robin came and show her new clothes, and still Zoro didn’t care..

— but when you came and show your new clothes, Zoro turned his head to look at you while still laying

— he usually like wasting his free time on training or naps, but if you were free and saw you needing company, all pleasure…

— he usually don’t understand any of things you actually interest in, but he don’t mind listening and when he hear weird things he be like “what the hell is that ?” He looked confused raised an eyebrow and rubbed the back of his neck, but keep listening to anything you say

— and that it the next point !

— Zoro don’t listen to anyone orders only luffy…and you, even he can not even say or admit it, but yeah that true

— “I’ll go to look, too” Zoro said huffed, Sanji stopped him “wait, moss-head !” , Zoro rolled his eyes before placed on Sanji “what?, gotta go to find an old man whose head is cut off, right?”, “you?!, go looking for someone??” Sanji said annoyed , Zoro start getting annoyed “shut up and let me go you shitty cook” , “then who gonna look for you?” Sanji said hating that idea, Zoro thinks before saying “well…” , “he is right, Zoro !! Stay here” chopper said worried and freaking, “you too ?”

— she sighed and said with soft small sweet smile “just wait for us here” she said softly, then Zoro said “alright then…”

— in any sudden fight or any uncomfortable situation, Zoro had this kinda thing it might be habit, that he make sure he step forward A front of you and make sure you behind him to protect you from any sudden attack, (even when everyone knows you are one of the strongest crew members and definitely you can hold yourself)

— when both of you be chosen to go and shopping for the rest as task, when you keep your eyes on any random stuff, specially when it’s something clearly you really like it, he will wait for you to be busy with anything else and then he pick up the same thing you were looking at seconds ago

— when you comeback to the ship he came to your cabin, “hey? I saw that earlier and I thought you might like it”, she gasped softly and smiled joyfully “woah !, thank you zo”

— when one time you both had an random conversation, “I can be anything for you, just tell me what do you want me to be”, she chuckled and shook her head “you’re dumb” she said joking, he had a small “I can be that” (the notebook movie)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ────── ⋆ .⺌ ⟡ ⊂ ✦ ⊃ ⟡ ⺌.⋆ ────── ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[aliensupastar]

shouldn’t feel like a crime

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You finally try Carmy’s cooking. Follow-up to “not wrong, but not right”

Part I Part III

Warnings: minor angst, comfort, fluff, depiction of an eating disorder, food and eating, healing?

A/N: first off, thank you all so much for the love on the first part! i wrote it as a comfort during a difficult time and it was so nice to see people enjoy it. i didn’t intend on writing more for it, but a few people asked for it and i finally got an idea for a follow-up! as a disclaimer, i wrote most of this before season 2 came out and edited it afterwards, but there are no spoilers. gif by emziess <3

Carmy is a good boss. You know this, you’ve known it for months. His sometimes-abrasive idiolect aside, he runs the restaurant like he cares about every brick that built it, every burner the crew uses to make each dish, every ticket that comes through that god-forsaken machine on the expo station. It makes any screaming match easily forgivable, and any nightmare lunch rush endurable. 

What you didn’t know was that Carmy could also be a good friend. Since your stint in the emergency room he’s made good on his agreement with you, without ever being overwhelming. He’s instead mercifully subtle. There’s a few bottles of lemonade kept in the office’s mini-fridge now, for when you get dizzy. He’s lent you that coat of his a few times, when the night air ends up chillier than you predicted that morning, and you’ve left your own jacket at home. And he never fails to give you a look, during the busiest hours at the restaurant, communicating quickly, and quietly: Are you good? And you know if the answer is no, he’ll let you take a breather without a single complaint, but you always respond with a quick nod and push through the rest of the shift.

In turn, you do your best not to worry him. You take vitamins and get better sleep and try to stop pushing yourself to the brink of passing out. You even eat one of your safe foods in front of him, at family while everyone else enjoyed the samosas Ebrahaim had cooked up that day, and for once it felt good to eat; the constant playful bickering and banter a welcome distraction from the usual stress that follows your meals. 

It’s nice. Maybe you don’t necessarily feel like you’re getting better, just more… stable. Less like you’re in a free-fall and more like you’ve got both feet on solid ground. 

When you go to leave after closing up one night and find that it’s raining, impeding you from making your usual trek to the train station, you turn back and head to the office. And a few months ago, you might’ve been too nervous around Carmy to even ask to stay in the restaurant an extra hour, preferring to brave the cold rain and let your clothes get soaked and heavy rather than hang around. You’re relieved, now, to find Carmy right where you left him when you said goodnight just a minute ago, ready to save you from a miserable trip home. 

“What’s up?” He asks when he spots you. 

“It’s raining.” You tell him, nodding your head in the direction of the back door. “Didn’t bring an umbrella. Do you mind if I stick around for a bit, just ‘till it stops?” 

“Yeah, it’s no problem, I’ll be here finishing up for a while, anyway,” He says, then continues after a brief pause. “Y’know you really gotta stop relying on that iPhone weather app.”

You scoff, shaking your head at his teasing. 

“You know I’m too lazy to start using another one.”

“I’m just sayin’.” He pushes out of his chair and walks past you, into the kitchen, grabbing a sponge and the container of soap water he uses to clean the countertops. 

“You want help?” You offer, already taking off your coat and tossing it onto the office chair. 

“Nah, you already clocked out. Don’t worry about it.” He replies, not even looking up as he begins to scrub, but you pick up a sponge anyway and get to work on the counter behind him. 

You fall into a comfortable silence for a while after that, only broken by the sound of rough sponges scraping away at the grime and the faint patter of rain on the roof of the building, and part of you wishes you had more opportunities for this. More time spent with him, outside of the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, even if it’s spent cleaning. His presence has become something you’d rather not avoid, even if it makes your heart race; the unique scent of him on the coat you’ve borrowed is becoming familiar, comforting. 

“Glad it wasn’t busy today.” Your train of thought is interrupted by his sudden comment, but you quickly nod. 

“Practically a miracle, for a Friday.” You agree, hearing him chuckle behind you. 

“Didn’t need that shit today, anyways, not while I’m on,” He says. He was working the stovetop today, alongside Sydney, making an efficient team as they churned out dishes quicker than the customers could file in. It made your day a little easier, the delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen while you savored the downtime granted by the slow day. 

“I’ve never tried your cooking,” You say offhandedly, but your words make him pause and look back at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Really?” He asks, and you nod. “You’ve worked here for months, though.” 

“I know.” You shrug. 

“How come?” 

That makes you stop scrubbing, turning slightly to look at him. 

“Think you know the answer to that one, chef.” You tease, before continuing to work. He huffs out a laugh, but keeps staring at your back while you scrub. 

“I could make you something.” He finally says, and it makes you truly stop, turning to face him fully. 

“Y’all just cleaned this whole kitchen.” Now it’s his turn to shrug. 

“I don’t mind.” You give him an incredulous look.

“I- If you think I’m gonna help you clean the stove and the plates again, you’re wrong.” Carmy just shakes his head, tossing his sponge back into the container of water and grabbing a few clean pans. 

“C’mon, I can’t have you walking around saying you’ve never tried the food at the restaurant you work at,” He says. “You like spaghetti?”

He’s casual in the way he asks, but you’re still standing by the counter, eyebrows raised in shock. Your mind is starting to race, the way it does every time you’re faced with food, but Carmy’s already pouring olive oil into a saucepan and brandishing his chef knife to chop an onion. 

You approach the stove he’s standing at carefully, like it might just burst into flames, and you can already smell the familiar scent of garlic and olive oil and god, he’s only been at it for a minute and it already smells like heaven in this kitchen. 

“Smell good?” 

“Yeah,” You practically breathe out. “Shit, smells amazing.” 

He smiles at that, a rare thing to see on his face. He’s thoughtful for a moment, before saying:

“This is, uh, Mikey’s recipe, actually.” 

Your eyes widen, a bit taken aback by his mention of his late brother. At least, his mention of Mikey to you. 

You’d learned about what happened to Michael just a few weeks after being hired, after having witnessed the heavy silence that overtook the room when he’d been mentioned, and asking Marcus after work what all that had been about. Since you received your explanation, you’ve tried to mind your own business when the melancholy that came with Michael’s memory returned, giving those who seemed to know him best room to process before getting back to work. 

Carmy’s never talked about Mikey to you directly; no one has. You’re not sure what to say. 

“Mikey, that’s… your brother, right?” You ask hesitantly, even if you already know the answer before Carmy nods. 

“Yeah. He used to run this place, before it was The Bear.” He tells you. 

“Before?” Your confusion and surprise seeps into your tone. “What was it before?”

“Still a restaurant, but, quick service. Italian sandwiches. We weren’t called The Bear, we were-“ He chuckles, caught up in reminiscing. “We were called The Original Beef of Chicagoland.” 

“No shit! This used to be The Beef?” He nods his confirmation and you’re instantly brought back, the memory faded like an old photo that’s been shoved into storage and forgotten. The only thing that wasn’t hard to recall was the sandwich you’d ordered, practically dripping with flavor, the exact kind of comfort food you’d needed that day.

“Been here before?” He asks.

“Yeah, I just- I didn’t recognise it.” You’d sat at a table across from the friend that dragged you to the slightly shabby establishment, silently relishing in the deliciousness of your food before the panic could set in, so enraptured by it you didn’t even care about the booming voice coming from behind a door that presumably led to the kitchen. Not even when the person it belonged to came out to the front and-

“Mikey, was he like, tall? Black hair?” You suddenly ask, gesturing how tall you’d remembered the man being, and now Carmy’s the one that’s confused. 

“Uh, yeah. You- you knew Mikey?” He sounds a little breathless when he asks, but you shake your head. 

“No, but when I came here before, he was still running the place, I guess. And just… loud as shit. Hard to ignore,” You look up and meet Carmy’s eyes. “Hard to forget.” 

You both share a laugh at that, at the memory of his brother that he loved, and that you barely even knew. 

“Yeah, that definitely sounds like him.” The sweet smile stays on his face as he chops and sautées, refusing to let you do more than start boiling the spaghetti for him. All you can do is watch the pasta and watch him as he navigates his brother’s recipe like it’s pure muscle memory. 

As much as you like to steal glances at him during opening prep, you don’t get to see as much of him during service hours. You’re just as busy working front-of-house, keeping people happy and keeping Richie off your ass, as he is while he’s trying to keep up on dishes. You don’t get a ton of chances to see him like this, in his element. He plates the finished spaghetti perfectly, in two bowls, so you know he won’t let you eat alone. 

Still, the anxiety in your stomach rises when you accept the fork Carmy hands you, and you can’t help but pause. He does, too, and you know he easily recognises the cause of your trepidation. 

“What’s up?” He asks, his voice gentle. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the conflict in your mind, but you can’t stop yourself from saying it. 

“Do you… just, maybe have an idea of-“

“I have no clue how many calories are in this.” He answers your question before you can even ask it, and you can’t help but let out a breath of amusement — at yourself, at him for somehow knowing. 

It’s his gentle smile, one that lacks judgment or pity, that pushes you to finally swirl the spaghetti around your fork and take a bite and-

Oh my god. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes you during that first bite, ignoring Carmy’s chuckle at your slight dramatics. You can see why he’s hot shit in the restaurant world; the dish barely looked fancy or complicated when he’d made it, certainly not as complicated as anything on the menu, but somehow it tastes better than any pasta you’ve ever had. You would say you’re in disbelief, but you don’t pause long enough to think about anything but this, how amazing every flavor bursting on your tongue is.

Carmy finishes his pasta before you do, but he stands next to you till your bowl is empty, before taking it over to the dish pit and beginning to scrub down all the dishware he’d used. And you stand there for a second, staring at his back, unable to process all the emotion filling you as he washes your bowl. The bowl he let you get dirty, because he wanted you to be able to try his food. 

The utter warmth flooding your senses is almost overwhelming.

Then, despite your earlier protests, you pick up the sponge he abandoned earlier and get to scrubbing the stovetop down again. You ignore the few warm tears that escape your waterline in the process. 

You mindlessly follow Carmy around as he walks through each room, shutting off lights and locking the front entrance and office doors. When you inevitably make your way to the back exit, you push open the door only to find that it’s still raining, worse than it was hours ago. You can only sigh and lean your head against the doorway in defeat. 

“Need a ride?” Carmy offers easily. 

You think back to the frame that sits on the countertop out front, holding a slightly crumpled index card: “I love you, dude. Let it rip.” Words you’ve seen nearly every day since your first on the job; you just now realize they’re probably Michael’s.

It feels like too much. The letting you stick around, the pasta, the… everything. 

You nod anyways, accepting Carmy’s offer, letting him lead you to his car, and he lets you lead the way home.

[spideysl0ve]

Hey I have a zoro× reader request. Could you write a angst story of a jealous zoro where reader is his crew mate and they are in zou where zunisha gets attacked and when everyone are falling law saves reader and they are also working together with everyone else to heal him all of which makes zoro jealous. Make it angsty and long  you can end how u like.

Include whatever prompt you want

 . 𔘓 ؛ jealousy, jealousy

⇢ masterlist

⇢ writing prompts

⇢ roronoa zoro x reader.

⇢ tw: angst, violence injury, english isn’t my first language.

⇢ a/n: i still haven't reached zou arc, so i am going to make it more neutral (in terms of arcs) and it's sanji who saves the reader to make my boy mad.

⇢ summary: sanji saves you from a near-death experience, making zoro feel guilty and jealous when he sees the cook taking care of you after he finished training.

the adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you sat in the infirmary.

a thick bandage wrapped around your arm and a fresh mug of tea in your hands, courtesy of sanji.

his concern had been immediate and unwavering, and even now, as he sat on the stool across from you, his eyes flickered to your injury every few seconds, like he needed to reassure himself that you were still in one piece.

“you shouldn’t push yourself so recklessly, y/n, do you have any idea how close that was?” sanji said, his voice tinged with equal parts frustration and worry.

you winced, not just from the memory of the fight, but from the way his words carried the weight of what could’ve happened.

“i’m fine, sanji, thanks to you” you murmured, offering him a small smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“you’re lucky i was close enough to help" he huffed, running a hand through his hair.

the door creaked open, and the familiar clink of zoro’s earrings announced his arrival.

his gaze immediately locked onto you, taking in the bandage, the tea, and, most notably, sanji sitting far too close for his liking. zoro’s jaw tightened, and he stepped further into the room, his sword still strapped to his back, a sheen of sweat on his skin from his training session.

“what happened?” he asked, his voice low and tense.

“she had a close call,” sanji answered before you could. his tone was clipped, but there was a spark of satisfaction in his eyes as he looked at zoro.

“good thing i was there to pull her out of it” the cook, making zoro feel even worse.

zoro’s brow furrowed as his eyes shifted to you.

“how bad is it?” he asked tense, his eyes hinting a huge amount of worry.

“just a scratch, really, it’s nothing-” you said quickly, holding up your bandaged arm.

“it wasn’t, nothing, she could’ve been killed, and you were nowhere to be found” sanji interjected, cutting you off.

you furrowed your brows, looking at sanji mad at the accusation he had made to your boyfriend.

“don’t” zoro snapped, his voice sharp enough to silence the cook.

his gaze darkened as he turned back to you, the guilt in his eyes unmistakable.

“why didn’t you wait for backup? why didn’t you wait for me?” he asked in a desperate whisper.

your chest tightened at the raw emotion in his voice, but before you could respond,

“she didn’t have a choice. i already told you” sanji stood, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“i wasn’t asking you, cook” zoro growled, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

“zoro,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. his muscles tensed under your hand, but he didn’t pull away.

“it wasn’t his fault. he saved me” you reminded him.

zoro’s eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, the anger drained from his face, replaced by a deep, unspoken guilt.

“i should’ve been there,” he muttered, his voice low.

“you couldn’t have known,” you reassured him, squeezing his arm gently.

“if you’re done glaring daggers at me, i’ll leave you two to sort this out. but she still needs to rest” sanji, sensing the tension between you two, let out a dramatic sigh.

zoro didn’t respond, his attention fixed entirely on you.

sanji left with a parting glance, the door clicking shut behind him. once you were alone, zoro sank onto the stool sanji had vacated, his elbows resting on his knees as he ran a hand through his hair.

"rest, and don't move too much" zoro grumbled, leaving too as you laid alone.

------------------------✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩--------------------------

later that night, the moon hung high over the thousand sunny, casting its silvery light across the deck as the ship rocked gently on the waves. the quiet hum of the ocean filled the night, but it was interrupted by the sharp sound of a blade slicing through the air. zoro was in the training room again, long after the others had gone to bed, his sweat-drenched form illuminated by the dim lanterns swaying overhead.

you watched from the doorway, concern etched on your face. this wasn’t the first time he’d pushed himself too far, but tonight, it felt different. his movements were frantic, almost desperate, his breathing ragged as he swung his swords in relentless repetition.

“zoro,” you called softly, stepping into the room.

he didn’t stop, didn’t even look your way.

“zoro, that’s enough,” you tried again, louder this time.

his jaw clenched, his muscles straining as he brought his swords down in a final, forceful strike. the weight of his emotions seemed to crash down with the blow.

"what are you doing here? you should be resting" dropping to one knee, he let his swords fall to the floor, his hands trembling.

“what are you doing to yourself?” you rushed to his side, kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his arm.

“i couldn’t protect you.” his voice was hoarse, thick with guilt.

“if sanji hadn’t been there… you could have-” he shook his head, refusing to meet your gaze.

“stop,” you interrupted, your tone firm but gentle.

“i’m here, zoro. i’m okay. that’s all that matters.” you reasured gently.

he looked at you then, his eyes clouded with something you didn’t often see from him, fear.

“but i wasn’t there,” he said, his voice breaking slightly.

“and i can’t stop thinking… what if you decide you’re better off with someone who can actually keep you safe?” he mumbled

the vulnerability in his words struck you, and your heart ached for him. cupping his face in your hands, you forced him to look at you.

“don’t you dare think that,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

“i don’t love you because you can protect me; i love you because you’re you. strong, stubborn, loyal, you. and no one else could ever take your place.” you reminded him gently, cupping his face shyly.

“but sanji-” his hands reached up to cover yours, his grip almost hesitant.

“sanji is my friend,but you’re the one i chose. you’re the one i love. do you hear me?” you interrupted, shaking your head.

“i hate this, i hate that he had to save you. i hate that i wasn’t there” he admitted quietly, his usual stoicism slipping just enough to let you see the vulnerability beneath.

“zoro, you’re always there for me. you can’t be everywhere all the time.” you said, your voice soft. you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

his hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin.

“but you’re mine to protect,” he murmured, the possessiveness in his voice tempered by the sheer depth of his care.

“and you do protect me, every single day” you whispered, placing your hand over his.

the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, though the guilt didn’t entirely leave his eyes.

“just… promise me you’ll be more careful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“i promise,” you replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

he held you there for a moment, his arms wrapping around you as if to shield you from the world itself.

and at that moment, you knew that, despite everything, he would always find his way back to you.

he searched your eyes, as if looking for any hint of doubt, but all he found was sincerity. slowly, he nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.

you wrapped your arms around him tighter, pulling him even closer.

“you don’t have to carry this alone, we’re a team, remember? i’ll always be here for you, just like you are for me” you whispered, your fingers threading through his damp hair.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, he tightened his hold on you, his breaths evening out as your words sank in.

“you don’t have to apologize,” you replied, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“just promise me you’ll stop beating yourself up over this. you’re more than enough, zoro. you always have been” you whispered softly.

“i’ll try” for the first time that night, a small, tentative smile tugged at his lips.

“good, now, let’s get you cleaned up and to bed before you collapse" you said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

he grunted in acknowledgment, letting you help him to his feet.

as you guided him out of the training room, his arm draped over your shoulders for support, he couldn’t help but feel a weight lifting from his chest.

you loved him, not because of his strength, not because of his ability to protect, but because he was him. and for zoro, that was enough.

taglist: @remasjoestar @anamiad00msday @rotin0 @moon4lust @elitesanjisimp @dreamcastgirl99 @acehasmyheart

be added to my taglist

[alotofpockets]

Opening act | Reneé Rapp

Pairing: Reneé Rapp x Reader

Request : Reneé x reader, where they’re dating and on tour together and y/n is opening for Reneé and one night on tour they’re not feeling well but continue on with the show until their last song where they rush off the stage because they’re so sick and just super cuddly and fluffy Reneé.

Warnings: Reader gets sick

Masterlist | Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 834

One of the great things about dating another musician was that you could join them and open for them every night. Of course, you would go on tour with your girlfriend Reneé, whether or not you were the opening act, the whole experience was just even more amazing, since you both got to play your music. 

You’ve thoroughly enjoyed being the opening act for these shows. The genre of music you made was very similar and lots of Reneé’s, and a lot of her fans were also fans of yours, which made performing even more fun.

Tonight however, you hadn’t been feeling well all day. You didn’t tell Reneé that you were feeling sick, not wanting her to worry about you. Instead you toned it down and told her you had a headache and spent the day resting in quiet rooms, hoping that it would fade a bit before you were going on stage but sadly that wasn’t the case.

Stubbornly, you went on stage anyways. You didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Not the fans waiting for you or an opening act in general. Not the crew for leaving them without an opening act. And certainly not Reneé. You performed to the best of your abilities, grateful that as an opening act you performed a shorter set than your usual concerts. Turning your back to the crowd in moments it got a little too much, effectively leaving the crowd clueless. However, one person watching your set was not clueless. Reneé was watching you with a face of concern, from the side of the stage.

After you play the last note you say a quick thank you to the crowd and run off stage, Reneé immediately running after you. You find the nearest trash can, which is when Reneé realizes that her suspicions were right. She moves to your side and holds your hair out of your face and rubs her hand in soothing movements over your back. She motions to one of the crew members to get some water, which they bring quickly. You slump down against the wall and lean your head on your knees. Reneé kneels in front of you, and lifts your chin up. “Here, drink some of this.” She opens the bottle for you and hands it over. You take a few sips before handing it back. She lets you take a breather, before helping you up and walking you to her dressing room. 

In the dressing room, she leads you right to the couch and tells you to lay down. You lay down right away, and curl up. Reneé drapes a blanket over you, and places a soft kiss on your forehead. Someone knocks on the door and announces, “5 minutes.” Which you both knew was Reneé cue to be on stage in 5. “Go, I’ll be fine.” Reneé shakes her head. “Not until my mom gets here.”

A minute later Denise walks in, a small bag in her hand. “I noticed something was wrong when you were performing, so I asked if she could go to the store and pick up some things.” You smile weakly at your always attentive girlfriend. “Thank you.” You look over to Denise, “Both of you.” Reneé places another kiss on your forehead. “I have to go on stage now, but I will be back by your side soon, okay?” You nod, “Go, I will be fine. Go have a good show.” Reneé finally lets go of your hand and stands up. “Mom, can you please-” Denise interrupts her, “Yes, I will stay right here, don’t worry. Now go perform, sweetheart.” 

Denise emptied the bag's contents onto the table. “Tell me, honey, what do you need?” You thank her again, and let her know what medicine you need. Soon after taking the medicine you fall asleep, hearing Reneé’s voice faintly in the distance. As promised Denise stayed in the room, making sure you weren’t alone. 

Reneé gently shakes you awake after she’s done with her show. “Hi, baby, how are you feeling?” - “Hm, slightly better but still sick.” Reneé nods, “Okay, let’s get you to the hotel then.” She takes a moment to gather all of her stuff, before you all head to the hotel for tonight. 

In the hotel room, you make a beeline for the bed, getting under the covers and curling up on your side again. Reneé drops the bags on the floor, and makes her way to the other side of the bed. She lays down next to you and cuddles into your back. Her arm wrapped around you comfortably. A few moments later, you had fallen asleep again. 

Reneé had always been very protective of you, and she would always take care of you when you were in need. Whether you asked for help or not. Reneé wouldn’t be Reneé if she didn’t make you promise to tell her next time something is going on so she would be able to be there for you from the start. 

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[whumpy-bi]

Rescuers/medics bringing in a more “emotionally aware” member of their crew to talk to a recently rescued Whumpee, who has spent the past few days lashing out and refusing any treatment.

They’re crouched behind their bed when Caretaker walks in, wide eyes watching them intently. They know Caretaker can see them—the bed is giving them a sense of security, Caretaker figures, a barrier between them and anyone else.

Caretaker keeps their voice soft, but loud enough that Whumpee can hear them. “Hey,” they start.

“You’re Whumpee, right?” They only nod to themself, knowing the answer. “I’m Caretaker…” They notice the apprehension in Whumpee’s stare.

“I’m not a medic, don’t worry. I just want to talk to you, would that be okay?”

Whumpee finally nods. Good, an acknowledgment.

Caretaker slowly lowers themselves to their knees, stopping at eye level with Whumpee. Notably, they hadn’t attempted to come any closer, nor attempted to move Whumpee from behind the bed.

“I heard you were a little upset this morning. Is that true?”

Finally, a verbal response.

“Yeah.”

“I heard you got pretty angry, with the medic. That true, too?”

“…Am I in trouble?”

Caretaker shakes their head, resting their hands on their knees. “No, not at all. I just want to understand what happened. Do you know why you were angry?”

“…No. I just didn’t want them near me.”

They hummed in thought. “Well…I’ve also heard you haven’t been able to sleep since we brought you here.”

Whumpee was silent, but frowned.

“I know I always feel pretty crappy when I can’t sleep. I get angrier than I mean to. Do you think maybe that’s why?”

“…Maybe.”

“Well, that’s alright. I can help you figure out how to get some sleep, we can talk about that too. But do you remember specifically why you lashed out at the medic today? What did—“

“He grabbed me. I don’t want people to grab me. He wouldn’t stop grabbing me.”

Caretaker nodded again, shifting their jaw as they listened. “That makes sense. I probably wouldn’t like that, either. What if he asked to touch you, before he did?”

Whumpee was silent again, but they quirked their head to the side. Considering.

“I’m sure we can all do that, asking to do things. We can tell you what we’re doing, before we do it. So you know how we’re helping you. Would that help? I think that’d be a lot less frustrating.”

Whumpee mumbled, now. They’d come closer to the other side of the bed.

“Maybe, yeah.”

Caretaker smiled warmly. “That’s good, I can tell them that. Now…I wanna help you get some sleep. I think that’ll help you feel a lot better, too.”

They watch Whumpee quietly as they climb back onto the bed, careful not to move too quickly themselves.

“Is it hard to sleep in here?”

No answer again. Caretaker glances over to the window.

“It’s pretty bright outside, isn’t it? Even with the parking lot lights at night. I can get some heavier curtains, if you’d—“

“It’s hot.” Whumpee’s voice is barely there, a hushed mumble.

Caretaker’s eyebrows raise, their expression a relieved smile. This was good.

“Yeah? I can’t sleep if it’s too warm, either. Here, I can…” They very slowly rise to stand, keeping eye contact with Whumpee as they do so. “I can lower the temperature, that’ll help a lot. I’ll just make it a little cooler in here…I can make sure you have water at night, too. Nice cold water.”

Whumpee watches them closely as they adjust the temperature, less apprehensive than before.

Caretaker suppresses a chuckle at Whumpee’s expression. “You look pretty tired, Whumpee. You wanna try sleeping again?”

“…Maybe.”

They let Caretaker help adjust them into a sleeping position, leaving the blanket by their ankles for now. As Caretaker goes for the light switch, Whumpee calls out one more time.

“Will you come back?”

“Sure I will, Whumpee. I’ll check on you a lot, you can ask for me whenever you want. Why?”

“I…liked talking to you.”

“I liked talking to you, too, Whumpee.”

Whumpee’s prolonged nap that day was the best sleep they’d had in months.

[arahdow]

SHY AROUND YOU

Pairing. Knuckles x reader

Content. fem!reader. lil angst, hurt-comfort, knuckles having trouble with his emotions. kissing but nothing too sensual or anything.

Word count. 1.3 k

A/N. Not beta read, we die like men. Also, again, sorry if it's too occ! I had the time of my life writing this sjdjs (it's 4:51 am atm send help)

At the distance, you could see the echidna and the bat talking to each other. Rogue was smiling and occasionally pushing his shoulder, a playful glint on her lips, as he seemed to not mind her closeness. You frowned at their interaction.

It wasn’t the first time it happened, it actually became a usual thing. Rogue speaking with Knuckles about her life, him telling her stories about his past, like old time friends. He always said she was his best friend, even before you two met. It was sweet at first, knowing he had such a reliable someone to hold on to. But not right now. Right now you were fuming.

You and Knuckles have been a couple since a couple of months, both of you getting used to each other’s mannerisms and habits, it was something you really treasured as you spent a good year or maybe more, trying to open your way into his heart. In the end, he let you build a little nest in his mind, as he kept thinking more and more of you every day, and not the typical worry, no, it was something beyond that. Something that wanted you close to him at all times. To protect you when he was around, and if he wasn't you were in his thoughts until he sees you again.

So, with a lot of effort and patience, he explained his feelings and you ended up catching on what he was talking about. Needless to say, you spent the whole evening together, speaking about deeper topics and stuff. It was such a sweet memory.

But it’s been days, even a few weeks since the last time he has kissed you. At first it was fine, you were busy with tasks around the island, and Knuckles was busy guarding the emerald, you barely saw each other and you were okay with that. You knew it was a temporary thing and there was nothing to worry about.

Even then, the thing that made your heart grieve in the worst way was how shy and reserved he became since you don’t spend much time together anymore.

It’s like you returned to base one again.

You were sad, of course, worried. And even then you showed empathy, knowing he needed space and maybe time to grow closer to you again. But seeing him right now being his extroverted self with Rogue ticked you in a bad way. He seemed genuinely happy. He laughed at her comments and didn’t seem to mind her hand touching him. It made your blood boil.

Standing from the beach chair you were sitting on, you started walking towards your shared home. The whole crew went to the beach to rest for a bit after the week’s activities, and you thought it was a good idea to try and make an advance on your boyfriend. But right now, you were just pissed off and wanted to sleep the anger away.

As you entered your home, the first thing you saw was two rocks on the top counter. It was the two rocks you both chose as a token from the day you both became lovers. One was a reddish stone with white undertones and the other was a shimmering one. It made your eyes sting just remembering how nice those times were. It was hard noticing how sad times got.

Getting close to the rocks, you took the reddish one, that symbolized Knuckles, and felt your eyes water. Your emotions were caught red handed when you felt a presence behind you. Wiping the few tears away, you left the rock on it’s place and started to go to your room, when a big hand stopped you, holding you from your forearm.

You whined a bit, not because of pain, but because you missed his touch more than ever and this is the first time he has touched you in days. It was pathetic.

“What’s wrong?” You heard his low voice, and something inside you stirred. Oh you were so in love with the oblivious echidna and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Nothing…” The voice came out in a thread. You winced listening how broken you sounded.

“You left, why?”

And you wanted to punch him so bad right then and there, but you knew better. He was so muscular, your hand would hurt first than his body if you were to punch him. Shaking your head, you looked at him in the eye. “What’s the matter with you?”

He looked at you confused. “Me?”

You choked on a humorless laugh. “Yeah, you seemed pretty occupied with Rogue, I didn’t want to intrude…”

“What’s this about?”

A groan left your throat. Time to let it all out. “Knuckles you’re not the same. You haven’t been the same. You’re not the guy I wanted to be with a few days ago.” You started to breathe fast. “You’ve changed. You feel like you don’t love me anymore. You don’t say it, you don’t show it, and I can’t handle that kind of treatment..."

Taking a deep breath, you continued, speaking fast and breathy. "What do you think it feels when other girl can have all of your loving self and not me?" The air was soon leaving your lungs making you feel like burning. Choking on a sob you didn’t know was there, you continued. “I’m sorry, but there’s space for one girl inside of your heart and if it’s not me then, what are we doing?”

The echidna stood there, motionless, and you didn’t know if it was a good signal. You thought he wanted space.

Trying to leave, you yanked your arm. But it was no use, he had such a strong grip on you. Looking at the floor, he seemed deep in thought. He pressed his lips, motionless. His breathing was easy and calculated. Almost too calm.

“I don’t…” He started, then shaking his head. “I’d never…” His eyes met yours. “I… Don’t… Why…” His body seemed composed, but in his eyes, you saw fear. And the tremor in his voice confirmed that he was scared. Of losing you, perhaps. “I don’t know what to do…” He said rapidly.

You sighed, walking slowly to the couch on the living room making him follow with short steps. When both of you were close, you sat down and made him mirror your actions.

“Knux…”

“I don’t know how to make it better, help me, how can I…” He looked at the floor with furrowed eyebrows.

“First of all, don’t be so hard on yourself.” You said, breathing in slowly, trying to make him follow your inhaling and exhaling. “Second, tell me how are you feeling, what are you feeling?”

Silence reigned between the two of you. The only thing to be heard was both of your breathing.

“I feel bad. I feel angry, and sad, and like the worst boyfriend…” He said with an annoyed grunt.

“Now, what would be good thing to say?” You ask. It was like a mechanical thing, but it always helped him with his unknown emotions. And he loved you for understanding him and helping him even in these moments.

Knuckles turned a bit and took both your hands, he kissed them and sighed. “I’m sorry, darling.” He looked down. “Rogue is just a friend, I always see her as my big sister, helping me with things regarding of our relationship… But I didn’t think how that might’ve looked from your perspective.” He pouted a bit making you smile lightly, suddenly your mind imagining a lost Knuckles asking Rogue for dating advice.

“You ask her about us?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “I wanted to know how to make a special dinner for us, you know, it's gonna be our anniversary soon… It was a surprise but it wouldn’t be fun if you break up with me before I can even start to plan it.” He said sheepishly.

A smile broke into your lips. “You’re so silly, but also cute.” you said, holding a hand out to caress the fur on his cheeks. “We can plan it together!”

“But what about the surprise? Rogue said it was indispensable to have a surprise on a special dinner.” The echidna complained.

You thought. “Well, we can give each other a special gift, what about that?”

Knuckles thought for a bit before he nodded. “Agreed!”

Both of you smiled at each other. One of his hands traveled to your cheek, caressing the skin under his covered palm. Looking at him lovingly, you kissed the inside of his palm, trying to convey your feelings with your lips.

He seemed deep in thought, when suddenly his hand cupped your cheek firmly and started pulling you towards him. His face coming close to yours, watching intently at your sparkling eyes. With a swift movement, you got closer and cut the space in between the two of you, kissing his lips.

The echidna gasped lightly in between the kiss but soon reciprocated sweetly.

The kiss was brief. You pulled away and he looked at you enamoured. "I feel my stomach fuzzy."

Giggling at his words, you nuzzled on his chest fur and smiled. "I missed kissing you too, Knux."

[in1-nutshell]

Human Buddy 'accidentally' adopted by Chromedome and Rewind

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Human Reader

MTMTE

They meet Buddy at Swerve’s. The pair had just heard about the new human joining the quest.

Buddy was the newest addition to the crew having been sent to look out for any unusual behavior with Megatron. Technically they were simply a glorified babysitter.

“Hey Megs!”—Buddy

“Yes?”—Megatron

“Are you having any evil thoughts?”—Buddy

“No?”—Megatron

“Okay, just making sure. Also, Rodimus is hiding in the supply closet in corridor 12.”—Buddy

“How did you know I was looking for him and rat him out?”

“You have that look in your optics… And he has been slipping in some of his work on my pile, it’s payback time. Happy hunting!”--Buddy

When Buddy sat down at the bar, Rewind was the first to approach Buddy. Chromdome had left earlier to go get their drinks and had gotten caught in Brainstorm’s rants.

He wanted to film a human for the longest time and now he the chance to do that.

“Hello there!”--Rewind

“Oh hello!”--Buddy

“I’m Rewind.”--Rewind

“That’s a nice name. I’m Buddy, but you already knew that didn’t you.”--Buddy

“Kind of hard not to hear the name when you’re the talk of the ship right now.”--Rewind

“I hope that doesn’t last too long.”--Buddy

“Oh don’t worry about that. Usually something bigger will come in and cancel that out.”--Rewind

“I don’t know if you’re joking about the bigger stuff.”--Buddy

“Trust me there have been so many things that have happened on this ship. For example, I’m not even from this universe, I’m from another one that got canceled out.”--Rewind

“What?!”--Buddy

“And the me from this reality was killed by Overlord!”--Rewind

“I thought that guy was dead!”--Buddy

Chromdome came in a few minutes after looking for Rewind. He saw his Conjux talking with the new human, who was showing them some videos from his camera.

He had been curious about the new human amongst the crew. He decided to go and joined in the conversation.

“Oh, Domey you made it!”--Rewind

“Domey?”--Buddy

“That’s his nickname for me. The names Chromedome.”--Chromedome

“Oh! Youre the guy that Prowl’s talked about!”--Buddy

“Prowl?”--Chromedome

“Prowl!?”--Rewind

“Yeah, something about you two being partners and all but it was kind of hard to hear some of the stuff when multiple tables are being flipped near you.”--Buddy

“Heh. He does have a thing for flipping them doesn’t he.”--Chromedome

“Yes! One time he flipped one and I was inside the drawer!”--Buddy

“What! Really?!”--Rewind

“Oh yeah! I was just looking for some of my data pads in there when the next thing I knew I was flying inside the thing and landed with my butt in the air!”--Buddy

“Now you have to tell us the rest of that story.”--Chromedome

“With pleasure!”--Buddy

Everything went on from there.

Buddy soon began meeting up with the couple weekly. The newly formed trio would talk anything under the metaphoric sun. It could have been about the latest reports to stories about the ship before Buddy came on board.

“So that’s where Ratchet’s hands came from?”--Buddy

“Yeah, Drift cut them clean off!”--Chromedome

“Wow!”--Buddy

“That’s nothing on what happened with the Sparkeater.”--Rewind

“What’s a Sparkeater?”—Buddy

The meetings soon became daily. The talks soon became more personal and longer, not that either party minded. It was the level of trust that was shown, and each was glad to have experienced.

Even though Rewind was the first to become acquainted with Buddy, it was Chromedome who first started having other thoughts about Buddy.

He felt very protective over Buddy but not in the way he felt protective of Rewind. Chromedome wanted to protect Buddy from any harm physically, mentally, and emotionally. He wanted to be there for Buddy. He loved them like if they were his own—

Oh

Oh…

He had a talk with Rewind about the sudden situation they were thrusted upon. Thank goodness too because Rewind was just coming up with the same feelings.

They both talked and agreed to talk to Buddy about the situation like civil adults.

Of course, on the Lost Light no plan goes according to plan.

The pair was waiting for Buddy in their usual spot when they spotted Buddy coming in.

They greeted each other as a larger bot came in front of Buddy.

They were clearly intoxicated as they began belittling Buddy.

“What’s a fleshy like you doing here anyways?”—Random Bot

“I beg your pardon?”--Buddy

“There's no way that this is the only-hic- reason you’re here. A puny organic like you. I -hic- I bet I could just flex my digits and you’ll be a smear on the floor. Human scum.”—Random bot

Rewind was ready to throw servos. How dare that bot talk to Buddy like that!?

Chromdome was already standing up not sure if to restrain Rewinds full wrath or to tackle the bot.

But as it turned out, they didn’t need to do that.

“You gonna say something Fleshy? Or is your tiny processor still thinking on what to say?”—Random bot

“…Oh, you’re finally done with the petty names and poor excuse of insults. Where those insults? I couldn’t tell if they were with that poor execution. Anyways since we are calling each other names, it’s my turn.”—Buddy

Buddy gave him the verbal beating of the century.

The bot ran away crying.

The bar was cheering.

“Way to give it to them Fleshy!”--Whirl

“Cyclonus can you please let go of my audials?”--Tailgate

“No.”--Cyclonus

“Drinks on me Buddy. You earned one.”--Swerve

“WOAH! THAT’S MY KID RIGHT THERE! THAT WAS AMAZING!”--Rewind

“Kid?”--Buddy

“I’m proud of you Kiddo. You stood you’re ground and made a grown mech eat his words!”--Chromedome

“Kid?”--Buddy

“…Oh…”—Chromedome and Rewind

“Keep your family drama away from my drinks. And congratulations on the kid you love birds.”--Whirl

“Whirl! Leave my dad’s alone!”—Buddy

“Dad?”—Chromedome

“Dad’s!?”—Rewind

“You’re welcome.”--Whirl

The three did end up talking about what happened in the bar a bit later. It was only to make sure everything was understood about the names.

Now the three carry their new titles with pride as one family unit.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Don’t need to tell me twice

a/n peeps wanted a possessive, protective IV, so here we are!!!😜

warning: slightly suggestive and also well a protective boy

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

IV always had a protective streak. It wasn’t overly possessive and he wasn’t one of the boyfriends that made their girls change because they didn’t approve of something. You were your person and he respected that fully. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t have a keen eye on everyone else. And in IV books almost every guy was out there to swoon you. And while you had thanked him for an extra ego boost he wasn’t so keen on entertaining your enthusiasm.

It’s the after-party of one of sleep token’s biggest gigs that gets IV rilled up beyond the line. Your connection to him was unknown to the audience. The closest people to the band and of course the boys were well aware. But since you hung around backstage a lot. And were featured in some of the prep pics, he didn’t want people putting two and two together.

The congratulatory fuck you two had in a cramped backstage bathroom took off the tole for the beginning of the night. IV was rather content in talking pics with some of the VIPs and the tour crew. But his chilled-out demeanor shifted quickly when he didn’t see you among the rest of the girls. Scanning the crowd he looked for a familiar figure before his eyes landed on the bar. And you. With the guys from the support act from either side of you.

“I see drool from over here”, III snorted, leaning back, lifting his mask only enough to take a swig of the beer in his hand. “Don’t rile him up or we won’t have a support act for the rest of the tour”, Vess clipped in. “I’m not worried”, IV cut in. And he wasn’t. He wasn’t scared of you cheating. Or your head turning. He was confident in what you two had. He knew where you both stood. “And that’s exactly why I will be taking your bottle, mate”, II clapped him on the shoulder, “We all remember the last guy who looked too long”.

IV rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that bad the idiot needed two stitches. And he was the one who raised his hand first. Did so in touching you. “Just go there and bring her over”, III huffed, “Even better, let me do it”. “Sit your ass down”, IV growled standing up, downing the rest of the beer before stepping back from the boys. “Keep your head in check”, were the last words he heard from Vess before he moved through the crowd.

Your bored eyes found him almost immediately. Nor did he miss the eye roll you made while the two yapped away on either side of you. “You should come to see us live”, one of them suggested. You gave him a pilot smile, “Doubt it will be possible, the contract keeps the inner circle on a tighter footing while the tour is in full swing”, you reminded them once more, swilling the drink that had long grown watery in your glass. “Then just come hang, our bus is…”, “Leaving tonight, I believe”, IV cut in and you didn’t need to see his face to know the frustration in his features.

“Ivy, the chick is fire, you keep them so rounded up”, you let yourself gag internally, before settling your glass back on the bar. Hand pressing against IV's chest as you shook your head slightly. “It was nice getting to know you guys but this is my cue to go back”, you motioned to the table your boys were sitting by. “Oh, don’t go yet”, one of them reached out to grab your arm but IV beat him to it. Stopping the hand mid air. “I would think twice”, IV grunted, stepping right in front of the guy.

“Right, we will be going”, you reached for IV’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his as you pulled him back. “IV, we are going”, you said once more, praying internally that he would step back. “Find peaceful sleep tonight, lads”, IV saluted, before draping an arm over your shoulder. “You are the reason for 80% of my headaches”, you rubbed at your temple, with a shake of a head. “Well, you are the reason one of my blood vessels will give out one of these days”, he grunted, “Yet here we are”.

You waved to the rest of the Sleep token boys before pulling IV away towards their changing rooms. “You, sir, need to calm down”, you pushed him into the room first before, closing the door behind you two. “Is this where I get my happy ending?”, he smirked, pulling his mask off, “It’s so fucking hot in there”, rubbing a hand over his face, he threw his head back. “Yeah, it shows. Your brain is overheating”, you chirped, coming to stand between his legs, “You didn’t need to make them shit their pants out there”.

IV snorted, “If that made them scared they aren’t old enough to be looking at pretty little things such as you”. His hand found a fist full of your hair as he brought you closer, “Especially not one that belongs to me”. You rolled your eyes at him, “Whatever will I do with you”, you sighed, dropping to your knees, brushing your hair to one side. “Is this your new way of making me quiet”, he muses, brushing his finger over your bottom lip. “The only one that seems to work”, you chuckle, reaching for his belt, “Mask on, big boy”, you muss, batting your lashes at him. “Don’t need to tell me twice, baby, don’t need to tell me twice”.

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Three: Marry Me, Today and Every Day

a/n: here’s chapter three of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. next chapter we get down to business, and maybe things will start to take a turn for these two. who is to say? also--the book r is reading is an actual fanfic by @blueywrites​ that you most definitely should check out. haha. just a fun little easter egg. 

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

- 

Sweat slicks your palms. Brings an awareness to every inch of your body as you pace around your bridal suite. Fear permeates every nerve ending. Sets them alight with a new sort of panic. This daunting, unrelenting, overwhelming knowledge that in less than an hour you’ll be a wife. 

In less than an hour, you’ll be the new Mrs. Steve Harrington. 

A Harrington. 

Married to a man who you barely know, and yet his is the name you splutter out when your father asks what you need, noticing the staggering rise and fall of your chest, palm over your sternum where your heart races beneath. 

The room clears out then. Faces pass in your peripheral vision, all varying degrees of worry lining them. Whispers, you’re certain, from your soon to be mother-in-law and Steve’s grandmother, over if you’re getting cold feet. 

And it’s not that. 

Not really. 

You’ve resigned yourself to the understanding that this is what’s best for right now. Marrying Steve pays for your student debt, which gives you the liberty to find work in the interim while finishing up veterinarian school, and thus aids in assisting your father in taking care of what he needs to. 

With money not being a worry in your mind, all your efforts can be in assisting the man who gave you life and lost his own love too soon. All your efforts can be put into that little girl with fire in her eyes and love in every inch of her bones—even when she’s trying to hide it in her cell phone, on social media, or scrolling through TikTok. It’s a sacrifice you don’t have any lingering regrets over. 

He stands there in his tuxedo and wire frame glasses, hair styled back to perfection in a way that’s still so strikingly him, and yet elevated in a way you’ve not seen him before. Your head photographer, Jonathan, waves the rest of his crew out of the room when he realizes you’ll be needing a moment, the rest of the bodies filling the space finally slipping out of the room one by one until it’s just the two of you remaining. 

“Wow,” he breathes out, swiping his palms against the front of the black tux, eyes roving your form. “You look—wow.”

“I, ah, thank you.” You allow your eyes to trail his form. The head to toe dress attire, the effortlessness in which he holds himself. Handsome, disturbingly so, and he never acts like he’s fully aware of the effect he has. “You clean up well, Mr. Harrington.”

He chuckles and suddenly you’re just a girl, and he’s just a boy, standing in a room together, taking in one another. It’s a slow perusal. Him, handsome as ever, in all black, save for the little floral arrangement on his chest that mirrors the one you’ll be carrying when you walk down the aisle, the glasses he’s wearing for the evening, and the gold watch around his wrist.  

“Are you okay?” 

He steps closer, hand extending slightly before it drops back to his side. Like he thinks better of it, like he doesn’t feel right about being near to you. It’s been that way since your bachelorette party. Since the moment he kissed you and forgot that next morning. The look in his eye when he stated plainly he didn’t remember much at all about the moment where you wondered, if only briefly, that there might be something more to this arrangement than two people entering a business deal. 

From that moment on, he’d made himself very busy, and you spoke little. Figured it was likely better that way. No way to muddle the lines established in your fake marriage. Better now than when you’re deeper into the arrangement, and delusion might have arisen. 

But now, in this moment, you need that nearness. Crave the touch of the only other person who understands what you’re going through. The only other person who appreciates the depth of the nervousness pooling in your belly. Circling around your heart like a vice. Clawing at your lungs to leave you breathless. 

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, trying to keep the frustrated tears at bay by inhaling deeply. He moves closer, thumb brushing along your right hand to where you’ve moved your engagement ring until after the ceremony when it’s joined by your wedding ring. “We’re doing something absolutely insane.”

“Completely,” he agrees, and those fingers drag along the inside of your palm. Your fingers reflexively tighten around his, comforting warmth seeping into flesh. “But you can say the word and I’ll call it off now.”

“You’ll let me be a runaway bride?” 

It’s a watery laugh that prompts Steve to grip your other palm in hand as well, giving both a gentle squeeze. Your eyes wander downward to the two tethers anchoring you to earth in this moment, then to the kind face of the man who is to be your husband in minutes. 

“Just say the word and I’ll come up with an excuse why it couldn’t happen.”

“No. No. I’m marrying you today, Steve.”

He blows out an exhale. A stray hair falls down into his eyes at the motion, and your fingers hesitantly reach up to push at it. His stare pierces you, hazel eyes warm as you card your fingers through dark locks, feeling them shift and move beneath your fingertips, impossibly soft and lush. 

Gently, ever so gently the hand curling in your right one loosens and circles your wrist like a bracelet. Rests briefly over your frantic pulse point, before trailing along the back of your arm. Faint brushes of skin back and forth, back and forth, loosening that breath presently hitched tight in your chest. 

“How about this,” he begins, eyes darting to where gooseflesh starts to prickle along your skin. You chalk it up to the AC unit in the bridal suite, meant to block out the heat of the city in summer. “When you walk down the aisle, you only look at me. Don’t look at anyone else, okay? It’s just you and me out there, no one else matters. Eyes on me.”

“Okay.” 

A long exhale leaves your mouth. Lungs deflate with the deepest breath in what feels like hours now. Steve’s fingers extricate themselves from yours in those moments of quiet, footfalls of his leather shoes clacking along the floor as he makes his way over to the door. His hand curls around metal when your voice breaks into the resounding silence, quiet and minuscule for you, and you loathe to admit there are nerves that still cling to every fiber of your being over what you’re about to do in front of hundreds of literal strangers. 

“Steve.” 

It’s simple. But he turns quickly, barely opens his mouth to speak when you rush forward and wind your arms around his waist. And there’s no protest. No argument as broad arms twine around your waist. As they rest low against your back, radiating warmth and comfort. 

He remains like that, quiet and steadfast, until you’re both ready. Until you lace your fingers with him and he leads you to where your father stands ready to walk you down the aisle. He hands you off to the older man, rests a comforting palm on his father-in-law’s shoulder and dips his head once. Tips his head in your direction and offers you a kind smile. 

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you. 

“Eyes on you.”

So it begins. 

-

There’s a ring on Steve’s finger. You notice it as you sit beside him at your sweetheart table, as strangers and friends alike offer you congratulations and greetings in support of your nuptials. 

Because you’re married now. Freshly Mrs. Harrington. 

In a whirlwind of emotion, you’d walked down the aisle onto that beautifully lit private rooftop. Admired only briefly the weeks of wedding planning spent with your new mother-in-law and followed Steve’s directions. 

Eyes on him to block out your surroundings, eyes on him to ignore the shutter of Jonathan’s camera, of the other photographers milling about. Eyes on him as you heard the audible sniffles of Steve’s family and your own. Eyes on him as the officiant had you recite words that would bind you to Steve as you slid rings on each other's fingers. Empty words that felt like ash on your tongue. Nearly choked you as you spoke them out loud in front of hundreds of people. Declarations of a devoted love shared between kindred spirits wanting to spend the rest of their lives together. 

And you’d kept your eyes on him as you were declared husband and wife, as your new name was announced to that rooftop gathering, as they’d announced Steve could now ‘kiss the bride.’ 

He’d been warm and welcome. Lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that had your head spinning, stomach swooping low in your belly. When he leaned back to take you in, his palm, the one where his new wedding band sat, cupped your face. To others, a sign of affection. To you, a reminder that it was only you two up there. Even as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, as the room erupted into applause, and he whispered to you. 

“Keep looking at me until we get back inside, okay?”

A simple sentence. A comforting command meant to quiet your fears with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand against yours.  

Now you sit in a romantically lit room, all atmospheric blues dancing along the walls draped in white with your new first initial of your last name highlighted on the dance floor. Beside you, Steve chats enthusiastically with a man and woman, who offer you remarks on your appearance. It’s all you’ve heard all evening. Comments on your new marriage, how beautiful you look, how happy everyone is for you two. 

You find it eases that tension, helps you settle in against your chair, still holding your husband’s hand as you sip daintily at a glass of champagne. That and Steve’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, offering to grab you another drink despite the fact wait staff quite literally answers your every beck and call. There’s a gratitude toward him that rests behind your ribs, an appreciation regardless of the confusing few days you’ve had as of late with him. 

Your husband who is not. A man you share a name with and only that. Who you signed paperwork with and will be heading off on a honeymoon with come morning. A man whom you’ll be sleeping in a separate bed from tonight, when most would assume you will be consummating your marriage. There’s none of that, only a pre-planned understanding. 

Agreements, plans, business deals.  

Before your mind can venture any further, the Emcee announces your first dance as husband and wife. You’ve almost forgotten about this part in all your planning. Never really thought beyond the kiss at the altar. Even so, Steve’s cupping your hand and leading you into the center of the dance floor where a giant ‘H’ is emblazoned below, drawing you near to him in an embrace as the song begins and you’re swaying back and forth in the arms of your husband. 

“I’m scared to death that she might be it, that the love is real, that the shoe might fit.”

“People are staring,” you point out, curling your hands around the back of his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Today is our day,” he laughs against the top of your head. Warm breath puffs along your skin, shiver tingling your spine. “I think you've forgotten. Everyone is here to celebrate us.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond. Beyond.”

“You’re my husband.”

He chuckles again, chest rumbling near your ear as you sway, his broad hands against your hips, tugging you closer. 

“Guess that makes you my wife, huh?”

“Space and time in the afterlife. Will she have my kids? Will she be my wife?”

Your nose wrinkles at the newness of your title. Wife. Wife. You’re someone’s wife now. And he’s your husband. Husband. You mouth the word once more silently to yourself, finding it unusual, tongue stumbling over it, and snort into his suit. 

That hand around your right hip tightens. “Something funny?” he asks, but there’s a levity in his tone that has your mouth jolting upward at the corners. 

“Just…this day.”

“I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as he adds, “people are also staring because you are beautiful, you know? 

“Steve.”

“It’s true.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing closer to him. 

“I know this day has been…stressful for you, but you’re not alone. There’s two of us now.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond.”

Your head tips back at his words, feeble mind stumbling momentarily over his compliment, heart thumping as you say, “Like a team.”

He grins. “Exactly like that. We’re the Harringtons now.” 

“The Harringtons.” 

The name falls easily from your lips, but your quiet conversation is disrupted by the clanging of glasses about the room. Silverware all around the room taps against the delicate surfaces, a continuous tinkering around you both that has Steve’s mouth parting slightly. The pink of his tongue swipes briefly across his bottom lip before he closes it once more, lines of his throat bobbing on a swallow. 

“They want us to kiss,” you tell him, sliding one palm down from where it rests around his neck until it curves around the edge of his jaw. You tip his head your way slightly, eyes scouring face. “And will probably be wanting us to do so all night. So…guess we might as well put on our best show, huh?”

It continues for the duration of the evening. Kiss after kiss bestowed by your husband. Constant expected affection. His fingers laced between your own, your hand on his thigh, his head on your shoulder, lips at your temple, lips on yours. Over and over again for hours. This time in a way that the slight buzz you have from your champagne could never erase—from either of your minds. 

The evening itself becomes fun. Music changes and you’re brought onto the dance floor with your new husband and the friends from your hometown, as well as the ones he’s made along the way. Strangers who become dance partners. Bodies twirling and swirling along the floor, hands tangling with hands, laughter pulling from your lips. Like this, with Robin and Eddie’s forms near to your own, you feel lighter. Like this, when the song changes and you sing the words out loud in a silly rush with Steve in the center as those around you egg you on, you allow yourself to let go. To be free. To enjoy the evening that is about you and Steve. 

Before long your feet are aching. Heels are discarded beneath you at your table, hand in Steve’s once more, as your closest friends give speeches. For Steve, it’s a rushed flurry of words from Robin. She speaks mostly to the closeness they’ve developed in the short time they’ve been friends, but a bond that has easily etched deep between the two of them. Speaks of your time as her roommate, about how she’d only been kidding when she said maybe you should get out there and start dating and quickly fall in love with her friend. Laughs easily when she says maybe she should have introduced them sooner. 

It almost feels real, the words she speaks—the words Eddie speaks as he grabs the microphone and draws it close to his lips. He ties his hair back quickly, sweat from dancing clinging to the bangs dancing along his brow, and he clears his throat. Unrolls a piece of paper that’s on the tiniest scroll you’ve ever seen, but rolls all the way down to the floor when he unfurls it. The room bursts into enthusiastic laughter, your chest aching in adoration at the first words he speaks. 

“You see…before I knew Steve, I knew his new wife. We grew up together in some shit hole town—I can curse, right? Sorry for all the kids here. Anyway, we grew up together…as I was saying. So when she asked me if I’d still love her if she did something stupid, I was thinking she meant a prank. Steve, just a heads up, your wife is a menace. A total damn menace. But I'm sure you knew that already.” He pauses for a moment as Steve chuckles, nodding his head in agreement, then continues, “And then she goes and falls in love with this guy. Big boy Harrington.”

Another round of laughter echoes in the room, and Steve grips your hand tighter in his where it rests against his lap. 

“Pretty stupid, huh?” He chuckles to himself, folding the microphone against his waist for a moment as he bows, thanking the crowd for their involvement. “But it’s not that stupid when I really think about it. Because these two are some of the best people I know. Really and truly, and it makes sense that we’re all here right now. Right here in this room. Two people like this are meant to find each other. Drawn together by some…cosmic force. I mean, look at them! Have you ever seen two people so in love?”

The room leans in. Swells with emotion as Eddie sniffles audibly. This part, you know, is part of his speech. He’d read it to the two of you the night before, just as Robin had. Those around you don’t know, but you do. And still, your guests are nodding in agreement. Some are dabbing napkins into the corners of their eyes, swallowing down knots of emotion welling in their throats. Your own father glances your way with a fondness that cleaves you down the center, ears ringing as Eddie continues the rest of his speech, filling the cavity with guilt. 

Clapping hands draw you from your silent reverie, followed only by the sound of metal meeting glass once more. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears as Steve slides a hand along the side of your face and leans down for the umpteenth time that evening, stilling your mind with the glide of his mouth against your own. 

Soon enough, the bouquet has been tossed, the garter awkwardly collected from your thigh, and cake has been shared between the two of you, sugary remnants that linger in Steve’s hair (a mental note made to never mess with his hair ever again upon fear of death in your marriage) still visible as guest stand on either side of an aisle outside where a car is waiting for the two of you, lit sparklers dancing to life in their hands. 

Your eyes meet his. “Ready to go?”

He grips your hand. “We’re in the home stretch now.”

-

Seventeen hours. 

Seventeen hours is what it takes for you to arrive in the Maldives. Plus the time spent traversing you two across the main private island to your smaller bungalow only accessible by boat. You’ve barely had time to take in the beautiful sights, tiredness clinging to every limb, by the time the two of you are deposited on a dock leading to the place you’ll be staying for the next five days. 

Steve clambers down onto the wood beside you, his own form looking a little worse for wear. He’s not spoken in quite some time. Neither of you have, really. Not since you returned to your penthouse after the wedding and slipped out of your wedding clothes. Nor when you parted down opposite ends of the hall. Even at the airport your conversation had been simple, pleasant, easy chatter about the weather and what you might do when you get to the island. 

“Look how beautiful!” You enthuse, taking in the beautiful thatched roof of your private honeymoon suite on the water. 

Pretty purple light douses the building, casts that same hue across the surface of the lagoon that laps against the edges of the boardwalk. From where you're standing, you can see another pathway leading to an outdoor gazebo and dining area draped in flowing cream curtains that billow in the gentle caress of the breeze around you. 

You turn to look at your husband. “Wanna go explore?” 

He yawns, head dipping as your guide lingers behind on the boat, wishing you two a lovely first evening on your honeymoon. Inside you’re met with a beautiful living room with sliding glass doors that lead to a deck, fully stocked with a jacuzzi, pool, and a sunken outdoor bath. Tired bones scream at the prospect of using them, though you proceed further into the suite. There’s a beautiful kitchen with the option of a private chef, a gym, an indoor spa you know you’ll be utilizing, the master bathroom with a tub that looks like it could fit ten people, and finally…the master bedroom. 

The suddenness of your realization dawns, because your eyes immediately hone in on the one bed. A king bed, but only one all the same. You’re tired, you’re so tired that all you want is to peel back the covers and clamber in, but this throws a wrench into those plans. That clarity must also hit Steve, because he’s dropping his things to the ground and walking around the side of the bed to grip a pillow in hand, and begins making his way toward the entrance of the bedroom when you splutter audibly. 

“Where are you going?”

He cards his fingers through his hair, exasperation lining those withdrawn features. “There’s a couch I saw in the living room.”

You shake your head, reaching out to cup his bicep. It instantly tenses under your fingertips. You don’t dwell on it, and instead argue, “You’re going to kill your back. We’re here for five days. We’re adults…we can share a bed.”

It’ll be like a sleepover. An adult sleepover where no sex is involved. Definitely not on your honeymoon—and definitely not with the man you married nearly twenty-four hours ago who you know very little about. You don’t know his birthday, his likes, dislikes…you don’t even know his favorite color, his favorite show, or if he’s a dog or cat person. Sleeping in the same bed as him will be a cake walk. Nothing to even worry about. A mere blip on the radar.

“I just…I don’t want…” He exhales deeply, and you finally notice the dark circles under his eyes. “You’ve already done enough by uprooting your life and marrying me—”

“It’s a bed, Steve.”

That seems to quiet the tension in his shoulders. They drop into a slouch, his form trailing back over to the side of the bed facing the wall when you clear your throat, awkward laugh breaking into the otherwise silent room. 

“I like to sleep facing the wall,” you say gently, noticing the slight downturn of his lips. “But I’m assuming you do as well, so for the sake of both of our sanities I can sleep facing the door.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, I’ll take the door side. I can handle a few nights.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Your lip twitches upward. “You don’t snore, do you?” You ask teasingly. 

“I…don't think so. But I’m sure you’ll tell me if I do,” he says, moving himself around the bed once more. He settles down against the mattress, testing the surface beneath his palm. “Bed is soft.”

“I would hope it would be for a private honeymoon villa. Your mother really went all out, huh?” 

Your head tilts upward, taking in the vaulted ceilings. Where you’re standing you can even hear the sound of water lapping on the deck outside your windows.  

“Pretty sure she’s secretly hoping I extend the Harrington line this week.”

Your nose wrinkles at that. “We’re absolutely making a pillow wall after that comment.”

“I’m joking,” he grumbles, body falling backward onto the bed. 

One thing you’ve learned about Steve Harrington? He’s dramatic—impossibly so. Sort of like Robin, though he’s more frustrated outbursts versus her nervous or frantic ones. 

“Pillow. Wall.” 

“Fine.”

You walk over to the bed where your husband lays with his eyes closed and forearm strewn over his face. Bare knees brushing his, you reach out and tug on his free hand splayed near his hip, trying to drag him upward to no avail. 

“Stop being a big baby.”

“We just flew for seventeen hours,” he argues, sitting upright. 

“Steve. Lift your hulking ass off the bed. The sooner you get up, the sooner we go to bed.”

Your new husband grumbles to himself as he stands to his feet, helping you pull down the comforter on the top of the bed. Satisfied, you pluck a few of the extra pillows and make a line down the center of the mattress, pointing out your side and his, before slipping into the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

You follow your normal routine. Wash your face, brush your teeth, slip on a moisturizer. You change out of your clothes next, opting for a matching set of shorts and a tank top, before tossing your street clothes into a laundry bin and sliding into your “Bride” slippers given as a gift by one of your friends at your bachelorette. 

There’s a brief moment your eyes trail to the shower, where there’s glass paneling and a bench in the corner and then further to your right toward the gigantic bath tub you could practically swim in…and huff. Such a strange thing to be in this beautiful honeymoon hideaway with a man down the hall who regards you as a friend.

The same friend you now share a last name with. 

Pushing the thoughts aside, you meander back down the hall to your bedroom for the next five days and come to find Steve laying on his stomach with his broad back on display, sheets hung low around his waist. You can map the various freckles and marks along his skin from where he rests, head resting on his forearm. 

Smiling to yourself, you settle down into the bed and roll over to shut the lamp nearest your side of the bed. The room descends into darkness, and you whisper, “Goodnight,” before following him into sleep. 

-

Pristine blue water surrounds you as far as the eye can see. The world is quiet from your home away from home for the week, save for the rustle of your book pages turning as you progress through the story and the sound of Steve’s fingers clacking across a keyboard. You exhale with a long huff, pushing your sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose. 

Steve’s been working for hours now. 

Since you both woke up, really. 

Initially you had been a little miffed as you cooked up something for the two of you in your large kitchen, opting out of calling for a private chef to do so, and he pulled out his phone and laptop. You figured that was fine, up until the headphones went in while you sat down across from him and ended up sharing your breakfast in complete and utter silence. 

On its own, that wasn’t so much an issue. What bothered you was your request to go outside and enjoy the sun together, and he’d agreed. In your mind, his intentions were genuinely to spend time with you. He’d slipped into a bathing suit and everything, only to join you on the sun deck with his leather work bag, laptop pulled out before you could even get in a word of protest. 

“You know, most people enjoy their honeymoon,” you tease, turning the page in your book. 

You find yourself needing to take a break anyway. The two couples in your book are on vacation themselves, and the main character kissed the dark haired hero on the makeshift dance floor after one of the hottest dancing scenes you’ve ever read occurred. And seeing as your own honeymoon is not heating up, you’re frustrated. 

Increasingly so when he says, “This isn’t a typical honeymoon.”

“Weren’t you trying to wrap up the business before we came here?” 

You recall a conversation you had wherein he said as much about wanting to make sure he’d be able to partake in the Maldives, but it seems those words were rang untrue. 

“Yes, but…things happen.”

Your book thumps onto the lounger beside you. “You do realize everyone thinks we’re on a real honeymoon, right?”

He dips his head, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he glances over the top of his laptop to glance your way. 

“Your coworkers are going to be confused why you’re logged in for work while you’re here. I mean—look how romantic this place is!”

“I’m not following…”

Huffing, you curl your legs beneath you, shifting your body toward him. “You’re supposed to be…you know, giving me attention every hour of the day while we’re here. Ravishing me. Going at it like—non-stop. It’s supposed to be overly romantic. Flowers on the bed, sexy showers, no sleep, naked trysts in the kitchen—”

“Fine.” He shuts the laptop. Tucks it away in his leather bag. “I’m logging off. Happy?”

You grin enthusiastically. “Very, husband.”

Steve disappears inside for a moment, then appears once more with his phone in hand. You’re about to argue with him when he shows you he’s playing a game of solitaire—which you snort at, shoving him when his eyes roll—and slip your sunglasses back on over your eyes. Opening your book, Steve pushes at the back cover, leaning in close to try and read the short description on the back of what lingers inside the dog-eared pages. 

“What are you reading, wife?” You catch the slight uptick of his lip; the smirk he tries to hide.  

Conversation. Small talk. You can work with that. “To Know You’re Mine.”

He tucks his phone near his thigh. “What’s it about?” 

“Swingers.”

“That’s very vague,” he points out. “Can you give me a little more than just ‘swingers?’”

Your brow arches. “Do you really care?”

“No, I’m asking because I’m bored.” 

Shifting your chairs closer to one another, you flip the book over so he can see the front cover and start pointing out the little cartoon characters on the nondescript covers on shelves everywhere nowadays. 

“So there’s these two who are dating, right? Have been for a long time. But it’s her first boyfriend and they live together. Then one day, he takes her to his friend’s show. And that’s where you then meet these two characters. Just so happens, they start swinging and…well, it gets really crazy. Do you want me to tell you the rest? I’m about…halfway.”

He nods his head and you explain the entirety of the plot so far. And maybe your honeymoon isn’t perfect, maybe jet lag kicks in and Steve starts to nod off right around the time you start explaining the chapter you’re up to, and maybe you have to nudge him to come inside so he doesn’t get sunburned. 

Maybe you watch him as he lays down on the living room couch and you drape a blanket over his slumbering form. Maybe you settle down on another couch and roll over onto your side to look at him, your book long discarded on the coffee table. Maybe you allow yourself to roam his features, so much younger than his twenty-seven years when he’s resting like this—when he doesn’t have a whole company on his shoulders. 

Maybe you close your eyes too and join him. 

-

Suffering from jet lag, your first day is spent mostly lounging around. Sleeping off the long trip you’ve taken to get to where you are. Steve sits on his couch near you, and you sit bundled in blankets on the couch opposite. You watch reality TV, a show where couples pair up in a villa and try to make romantic connections, and scroll through social media. Allow yourself to click through different stories from your friends accounts, glance at the few articles printed, and scour the comments beneath regarding your recent wedding. 

TikTok is blowing up with videos of you and Steve photographed with Eddie. You are in your wedding gown and Steve is beside you, hand in yours. He looks happy. Genuinely happy in a way that has you smiling over to where he sits, hazel eyes drifting your way curiously. You don’t even know how they got access to them in the first place, and likely don’t even want to know. 

Overall, it seems like most are impressed and craving more photos. Wanting the inside scoop on the famous Corroded Coffin member’s best friends. No one seems to question the validity of the marriage, though there are questions as to why so quickly, but are snuffed out by those who make note that it isn’t like the two of you haven’t been in the same social circles for some time now. That it was a matter of time before the two of you realized love was always there, right in front of the both of you, and all you needed to do was reach out and grasp it.

By the next morning, you’re both awake and ready to take on the day, ordering a boat to the main island for your spa day. The prospect of a massage after the weeks spent planning your wedding sounds lovely, and you tell Steve as much, leaning into his frame as your guide asks how the first day of your honeymoon was. 

“Amazing,” you gush, though you spent another night with a mountain of pillows between you and the man beside you. The only reason you’re close now is because they’re watching your interactions, gauging the newlyweds. “It’s so beautiful here.”

And that’s that, until you arrive at the spa booked for a private afternoon with your new husband, compliments of your new mother-in-law and the travel agent she’d worked alongside to make sure your accommodations were all you could ever dream of. 

The only detail left out on your itinerary was the fact it was a nude spa. Fully. Part of some “bonding exercise” as the attendant explained before the two of you entered the hot spring, freshly massaged and draped in the coziest of robes to ever grace your skin. 

You’re left alone with Steve in a darkened room warmed by the steam rising from the water’s surface, eyes dragging along his presently clothed form.

“I’ve seen your chest? You sleep shirtless, which…I mean, is fine. And uh…you’ve seen me in a bikini. It’s kind of like that, no?”

“Except now we’ll be naked.”

“Well, there’s that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“I mean, it’s not that serious. No cause for alarm bells,” you say, trying to ease the tension rolling off of Steve’s shoulders in waves. “I mean, you could always turn around and I can get in first. Just…eyes above the water level only.” 

Steve rubs a hand along the back of his neck, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay, you go first.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and you rush over the small deck to turn him around so he’s facing the wall. With his back turned, you untie the robe and drape it across a rack, then move over to the water’s edge to dip your toes into the water with a sigh. Warm water laps at your skin, coaxes you further into the hot spring until you’re settled down on a bench, water up to your shoulders, hopefully obscuring the rest of you from view. 

“Okay, I’m in,” you announce. “You can get in. I’ll close my eyes.”

You pinch them shut in emphasis, clapping your hands over your face just in case. The sound of his bare feed padding across the deck reaches your ears, followed by the splash of what you assume to be a foot stepping into the water. It’s followed by a low exhale. 

You pop your eyes open momentarily and Steve’s voice has you clapping them shut frantically. A shout of, “I’m not in all the way!”

“What are you waiting for?! Jesus to come back?!” 

“Oh, I don’t know, to adjust to the warm water. It’s cold out here.”

You scoff. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your dick.”

“Can you not?” 

“What? I didn’t!”

“I’m glad you didn’t!” 

You scoff. “I mean, ow. That’s kind of rude. I’m your wife.”

“Did you bump your head and forget the part where we’re on a fake honeymoon, following our fake wedding?” He whisper-yells, still not moving down the stairs leading into the sauna.

“I didn’t say I want to see it! Don’t get too big of a head now,” you amend, eyes narrowing. “Steve, just get in, please.” 

Your sigh of exasperation has him moving swiftly. Water ripples around your shoulders, gentle caresses against skin as he settles down beside you and announces you can open your eyes. 

“There’s this dinner spot I think we should try out tonight. It’s on the main island, but it’s supposed to be really good,” he says after a while, drawing your attention to him. “I figure it could be nice to spend an afternoon out. Together.”

“Is my husband asking me on a date?” You tease, watching as his head submerges itself under the water, leaving you in solitude. “I’m kidding. Kidding, Steve. This seems on brand; my husband trying to escape me on our honeymoon.”

He emerges with a laugh, hair slick against his head, broad chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. It’s then your eyes wander southward. Hitch on the hair lining his chest, the way it trails below the surface of the water, hinting at a downward path your heart clenches at the mere prospect of following.

Steve’s…well, your husband is handsome. You’ve known since you met him that first time nearly a year ago. But now, sitting there, with the ring you got him your ring on his finger as he cards his fingers through his hair. It…shouldn’t do anything, but it does. Bubbles to life feelings you would rather push away, sweep under a rug, ignore. 

Deflect, deflect, deflect. 

It’s easier this way. 

Because he’s not your real husband in the ways that matter. 

Capturing your current distraction as you continue to mindlessly stare, Steve taps your shoulder, drawing your gaze back to his face, your mouth twisting into a frown. 

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t looking I—”

Scrambling to escape the moment, you start to rise a bit from the water, only for Steve’s gaze to stray. “Eyes up here, Harrington,” you tease, shoving at him and forcing him deeper into the water, hazel eyes bright and wide, holding you in place there in that sauna. 

He laughs, spluttering as his head dips beneath the surface. 

A deep, hearty, lyrical sound. 

That laughter continues until dinner, where Steve brings you to a lovely outdoor restaurant on the beach. All around tables lit by candlelight outline the sandy floor. Little twinkling lights illuminate the space, hidden in the trees, curling around their slender trunks. It’s gorgeous, and you say so as your waitress congratulates you on your marriage while she seats the two of you, offering a bottle of champagne gifted by your mother-in-law. 

Until it stops because of a simple sentence that makes Steve stiffen on the spot: “Are those the new Harringtons?”

-

It’s supposed to be easy. A business deal with a contract like the ones he’d grown up reading. An exercise his father had him do often: would hand him a detailed contract, pages thick, and see if Steve could find the faults within. It’s why he knows the one he drafted up for his own marriage was—or rather, should have been—perfect. But marriage contracts don’t account for persistent wives. For the types of women who seep into the crevices of your life and make themselves known. 

And that, he finds quickly, is you. You’re vibrant and joyful and downright fun to be around, and try as he might to deny it, finds himself enjoying your company. But he’d told himself, from the moment on that rooftop when he’d asked you to marry him, that these things could only grow complicated if he allowed them to. If he allowed himself to open up, to feel, to wonder. 

Such as this moment, presently staring him in the face. You are in that pretty, off the shoulder cream dress he’d seen you unpack back in the bedroom that clings to your every curve, as Carol and her husband, Tommy H, settle down at the table beside the two of you. And, naturally, you slip into easy conversation with them. Chipper chatter as you catch up on the happenings of your honeymoon so far. 

“Isn’t it just so beautiful here? It’s actually our first time here too, but it has been so lovely. Have you two been able to get out and see anything? I’m sure you’re still in that first few days of your trip bliss,” Carol asks, waggling her brows teasingly. 

“I…uh, what?” You pause for a moment, reaching across the table to grab Steve’s hand in yours. As if you’ve just remembered you’re married and are meant to play the part of a newlywed. “Oh, yeah…so we have a private bungalow on the water. So you can imagine…” 

“That sounds so romantic. Ugh, honey—” She reaches over to clasp her hand around her own husband’s forearm fondly, as if she’s reliving memories of their own newly wedded bliss. “If you haven’t seen any beaches yet, you definitely need to. The water was so perfect. We also tried out this really lovely breakfast place. Great for a morning meal and it’s connected to the sweetest trail. Such pretty scenery here, isn’t there, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, turning to Steve when the girls slip into easy conversation, grinning widely. “She seems great, buddy. So happy for you.”

“She really is,” Steve admits, catching the profile of your pretty face. The upturn of your lips that has his heart careening into the pit of his stomach. 

He hates when it does that, and it seems to do so all the time now. 

He knows it’s not coincidental. 

And that’s the problem, now isn’t it? 

The charm you possess. The way Carol and Tommy talk to you like they’ve known you for years as opposed to the few minutes it takes to learn their background history. To find out that they know Steve from the private school they went to in the city. You quickly learn Steve and Tommy played baseball together, before Steve went to business school and Jason pursued the major leagues. They’ve not seen each other in years, so there are no hard feelings about not being invited to the wedding, but they’re happy for the two of you. 

Steve told himself marrying you would be easy because he knew little of you. You’re his best friend Eddie’s best friend. You were previously Robin’s roommate. But up until your vows at the altar you were a name his friends would bring up in conversation, and now you’re central to a majority of his conversations, share a last name with him, have now shared a bed with him. 

Luckily, there are only a few more days left of your honeymoon. A few until he’s back in the city, back to work, and back to normalcy. You’ll be heading back to school, he’ll have a semblance of reality he feels he’s been lacking, so wrapped up in wedding planning and get togethers, and he’ll have no questions as to why he’s finding it so hard to keep your marriage strictly as what it was always intended to be: a business deal. 

For now he’ll have to deal with you grabbing his hand flirtatiously when an Emcee announces a competition for that evening that manages to put a new glint in yours and Carol’s eyes. An expectant glee for him to participate with you, keen on competition, despite his grunts of protest. 

For now he’ll have to deal with the way your eyes meet him as a coconut is pressed between the two of you and the game of the evening is announced. Coconut smoochie, wherein two couples compete to bring the coconut between their bodies up to their mouths for a kiss, without using their hands. 

For now, he’ll have to deal with the smirk that lines your lips as he starts shifting this way and that, coconut rolling between the two of you, sliding against his abdomen, his chest, your chest, your breasts. 

For now, he’ll have to ignore the way you grin to yourself when Carol and Tommy drop their coconut behind the two of you, how satisfied you are when Steve manages to get the coconut under his chin and pinches it there. 

“Harrington, you’re not so bad at this,” you tease, chest against his, hips against his. 

One wrong move and—

“Can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“You’re on your honeymoon. Live a little. Life doesn’t have to be numbers and contracts all the time.”

And you’re right. He knows this. But he hates the way his stomach twists violently, how his heart clenches as your lips press against the coconut and the other side is pressed to his mouth. Hates how when you’re announced the winners and the coconut drops to the floor between you, his palms sweat as your arms come to curl around his waist. 

Because you’re his wife, yes. 

Technically. 

On paper, at least. 

But that’s all it can be. 

This affair, this agreement—it has an expiration date. 

Three years. 

Three years and then you’ll be gone. 

Lost to him, like so many others. 

For the sake of your agreement, it has to remain that way. 

-

Light seeps in through your bedroom window. A heaviness around your waist, like a weighted blanket, keeps you still. Comforted. Warm. A sigh spills from your lips, pleasant and happy. Contented. Burrowing deeper into that warm, you hum, relishing in the feeling of it. Of being cocooned, safe, held close. 

Held close. 

Held close. 

Held— 

Head shifting, you come to notice Steve flush against your back. His hips against your backside, thighs tangling with yours, and that weight around you? Yeah, it’s connected to a wrist, a bicep—because it’s an arm. Steve’s broad arm cages you in against his bare chest. His warm, freshly tanned, bare chest. Those fingers around your hip curl tighter. The arm around you tugs you closer, though you’re not sure how much closer two people can be without climbing into the other person, and you realize the very…interesting situation you two have found yourselves in. 

His body against yours. Your body flush against him. His breath in your hair, along your ear, his mouth near the hinge of your jaw. If he moves even the slightest bit, they’ll make contact with your skin. And you’ve kissed Steve enough times now to know said kisses are dangerous. They’ll only lead to dreaming, to questioning, to wondering. 

You don’t have time for any of those things. 

Your honeymoon is coming to a close soon enough. Only a few days left now, and then you’ll be back to your own lives. To normalcy. Or as normal as two people freshly married can be.

“Steve?” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to not startle the man holding you. 

His mouth shifts near your ear. A low yawn spills against your jaw, heat fanning across your skin. “Yeah?”

“You’re squeezing me,” you point out, wiggling your body for emphasis. “Our pillow wall fell down in our sleep.”

But it’s in the wiggling against his solid form that you realize there are actually three people in the room. Your husband, yourself, and the warm, thick, long, and presently hard erection pressed against your bottom. 

It’s also when you hear the slow exhale of your husband’s breath along the hollow of your ear. A telltale sound, even in the short time you’ve been married, that signals he’s hardly awake. Still in that wispy world between waking and sleep. Deciding to not rouse him further, you settle back down into his embrace. 

Or rather, try to. When you do so, your body freezes on the spot. Cold water seemingly drops from a bucket onto your shared bed. Because Steve whimpers against your shoulder. 

Whimpers. 

A breathy, needy sound that has your stomach fluttering. And further still, as your heart rate picks up, realization dawns. Your knee involuntarily searches for its twin beneath the covers, thighs clenching around Steve’s thigh. This time, he moans. A deep rumble in his chest that vibrates along your spine, has your fingers clutching at his arm slung low around your hips. 

“Steve,” you try again, pleading with whoever listens from above as Steve’s hips roll forward, cock pressing against your backside again, making your pussy flutter around nothing. Betrays you and your damn emotions. Your pillow swallows your moan, desire racketting in your veins. “Fu—Steve.” 

Awareness grows. Waking follows. Steve starts to shift behind you, arm loosening from around your waist, chest slipping from your back. His form moves toward the headboard and you try to not miss the loss of his warmth so deeply, try to not linger on the instantaneous loneliness that creeps when the king sized bed grows even larger before you, the gaping maw between you created by lies and acts, touted before your closest family and friends never so insurmountable. 

As you rise from your own pillow and look at him, he tugs the blankets higher up on his hips, hands moving to the bedside table to grab his glasses and phone. Your mouth opens to speak, to reassure him it’s fine, that it happens, that it’s just a silly pillow wall, but he mutters shower and slips out of the room and down the hall. 

Huffing, you roll onto your back, listening to the sound of your racing heartbeat coming back to a normal rhythm. It’s joined a moment later by the water running, the gentle rainfall of the shower head in the master bathroom sparking to life, likely steaming that room. 

You don’t want to think about it. 

Try hard to not think about the figure of your husband slipping into the stream. Try not to imagine the sight of his bare chest on display, rivulets of water dripping down his sculpted abdominals, fingers running through the hair growing longer since you’ve met him on his head, along the stubble that’s lining his jaw and upper lip now. Try to not imagine him still pressed against you, rolling his hips against yours, drawing a quiet moan from you. Definitely don’t imagine what he’s likely doing in the shower to alleviate his…situation. Your fingers edge along the hem of your sleep shorts as you try to block out the image of his corded arms straining in the shower as those long fingers curl tight around his c—

No! 

Absolutely not! Not going there. 

NOPE. 

-

The day before your flight home arrives sooner than you expect it to. Five days of…well, maybe not marital bliss, but something, passing before your eyes. After the night you woke to Steve’s arms around your waist, the pillow wall became a pillow mountain. 

And, though you loathe to admit it, you hate the mornings that follow. They remind you of what you can expect once you’re back in the city with him. Nights where you slip to one end of the hall and him the other, where you pass each other on the way to grab coffee in the morning, where you wave goodbye before one of you leaves and silence follows. 

Steve wakes early the morning of your last day, mutters that he’s going to spend some time in the private gym, leaving you to make breakfast for when he gets out. With both a plate of eggs and coffee brewing for your husband, you open your laptop with the intention of making sure all your classes have been set up. 

What greets you there isn’t…well, it’s not unexpected. It was part of your deal, but you hadn’t anticipated him paying the bill already. 

Thousands of dollars were paid, bringing your total due for the semester down to nothing. 

Zero. 

Zilch. 

Eyes burning, you close the lid of your laptop, sniffling as Steve enters the room and thanks you, taking a bite of his breakfast. 

“You didn’t have to cook again,” he says. “We haven’t called the private chef at all this week.”

You shrug, wiping at your under eyes quickly. “I don’t mind. I like cooking. I’ll have to go shopping when we get home.”

Home. 

That’s right. 

The walls of your penthouse that feel so far from it are, in fact, your home. 

“Don’t drive yourself crazy cooking all the time. I order out or go out most nights anyway.”

“Right,” you say, dipping your head and pouring him a cup of coffee. “I’ll be busy with school soon anyway.”

“Exactly.” He sips his drink. “That should be your main focus.”

“Right.”

Awkward. 

Stilted. 

Uncomfortable. 

Those feelings linger as you step out onto the hammock outside, dangling over the water below. Your book is back on your lap, Steve’s on your right, freshly brought up to speed on where you’re at. The main character broke up with her boyfriend and told the main male lead that they need to stop seeing each other. 

Needing to take a break from it, tears gathering in your eyes, you tip your gaze up to the sky. The sun beats heavily on your head, warms your skin, and makes you sleepy. 

Steve turns his head your way, fingers trailing along your forearm, breaking you out of your silent reverie. “Hey. Are you okay? You’ve been a little quiet this morning.”

“Yeah.” You nod, rolling over onto your side. Reaching up to place your book on a safer spot of the deck, you shift closer to him, lips turning downward. “I saw you paid my semester—”

“I told you I would. It was part of the deal.”

The deal. 

The arrangement. 

“I know, I just…seeing it was kind of overwhelming. In a good way. In an…I’m really grateful kind of way.” A slow exhale spills from your lips, chest falling with the effort of it. “I know we didn’t get married in the most, uh, conventional way, but—there are things that this will allow me to do that I wouldn’t be able to otherwise. It’s a big weight lifted off my shoulder. So. I guess thank you for marrying me.”

The corner of his lip twitches upward as your husband rolls over onto his side, sunglasses blocking half his face from view. “This is also a weight off my shoulders, too. I think you forget that. I needed to get married for the company—”

“A company you don’t want,” you tease, wrinkling your nose. 

“A company I don’t want,” he agrees, chuckling lightly. “But I’d rather it stay out of my cousin’s hands. So thank you for marrying me.”

“Ready to go home, Mr. Harrington?”

He snorts. “Sure, Mrs. Harrington.”

-

-

[pholla-jm]

Sick Days

IMAGINE: SICK DAYS ~ LAW X READER GENRE: FLUFF WARNINGS: NONE ****************************

Being sick while being part of the Heart Pirates crew was pure torture for you. It wasn’t the sick part that was torture for you, it was the constant nagging from Law. He would make you stay in your room to rest until you’re feeling better. He would force you to take your medicine and give you foods that would only cure your illness. 

So when you woke up with a slightly itchy throat, you dreaded what would come next. You could feel the sickness coming. So you immediately went to the kitchen to grab yourself some water, hoping that it would ease the pain in your throat. 

It didn’t work. 

Throughout most of the day, you could feel yourself heating up and the itch in your throat was making it worse. You were lucky that you were able to avoid Law for most of the day. 

That’s what you thought. 

Law saw you from afar. He saw how you were trying to hide your coughs. He saw the slight pinkish hue on your cheeks. He also knew that it was around that time of year when you always get sick. 

So he follows you to your room. 

Just when you thought you were safe, closing the door, a hand stopped it from closing it all the way. When the door swung open, you were met with an unamused look from Law. 

“Hey, Law. What brings you here?” You ask, trying to play off that you desperately wanted to take a nap. He lifts his hand, a thermometer in hand. “Take this.” 

“Uh, why do I have to?” “Just do it.” He sternly says. There was no room for argument, and you knew that. With that, you took the thermometer from his hand and placed it in your mouth. 

While you waited for the thermometer to read your temperature, you avoided Law’s gaze. You knew that if you looked into his eyes, you would cave. You hate when he scolds you for getting so sick. 

After a couple of minutes, you pull the thermometer out of your mouth, reading the high temperature. 

“Well, I’m fine! A perfect 98.” You say while holding the thermometer behind your back. 

His eyes narrow at you, “Don’t you hide that thermometer from me”

With a click of your tongue, you hand him the thermometer. He honestly reminds you of a parent sometimes. 

“Just as I thought.” He says and you sigh. “I know… I’m already heading to bed.” “I don’t know why you didn’t just come to me in the first place (y/n).” 

You didn’t answer him as you just climbed into your bed, exhaustion already taking over your body. You could feel your eyes closing and your body started succumbing to sleep. You almost drift off to sleep until you feel something cool touch your forehead. 

Your eyes flutter open, seeing that Law was leaning over you. A cold rag in his hand. 

You were a bit confused, because you could have sworn that he was just standing by your door. And he didn’t have a bowl of cold water with him. You turn your head, seeing that there was medicine, a glass of water and some healthy snacks. 

Law could see the confusion in your eyes. “I had a suspicion that you were going to get sick soon. So I already had everything prepared for this.” “Oh… I didn’t know I got sick that often.” “Yeah, it’s weird.” “Thanks.” 

Law cracks a smile, “in the meantime, you’re going to be bedridden for a couple of days. Also take your vitamins. You wouldn’t get sick so often.” “But-” “No buts. Captains and Doctors order.” 

You let out a chuckle, “alright.”

Law was content that you didn’t put up much of a fight this time. He honestly hates seeing you sick. It worries him that one day you would get too sick to the point you wouldn’t get better. However, Law would never tell you that he worries about you. He knew he would never hear the end of it from you or his crew mates. 

Law removes the cold rag, “good. Now get some rest.”

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Baby, it’s you

Harry Crosby x Red Cross girl reader!

Summary: Harry thinks you’re into a certain handsome pilot, after a mission you get the chance to reassure him

Notes: angsty and fluffy

Word count: 1089

Dedicated to @xxluckystrike 💕

“Hey Bucky” I shot the tall, dark-haired pilot an eloquent look. “Just be careful up there, alright?”

“Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’ll get this plane back to you all in one piece” He answered with a big grin in my direction and winked.

I rolled my eyes, cracking a smile for the first time that morning, as he leaned down to give me a hug. Saying goodbye to the boys before they went flying again was always the toughest part of the job, but I knew I had to be there. It was the least I could for them given everything they were risking.

I swept my gaze over the rest of the group of those who had been chosen for that day’s mission until my eyes found the person they were looking for.

Croz had a strangely gloomy look on his face. He was looking at Bucky and then his eyes darted back to me, like he’d been paying close attention to our quick interaction.

I boiled it down to him being nervous and I tried to smile at him as reassuringly as I could despite the tightness gripping my stomach.

I wanted nothing more than take him by the hand and carry him away, do anything I could to stop him from getting on that damn plane, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I didn’t move a muscle, not even allowing myself to get close to him because I couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen to him.

He smiled back, his entire face lighting up to show the happy, silly looking guy I’d come to know and love for a brief, wonderful moment.

I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared inside the vehicle together with everyone else, and I had to move away from the track to join the small crowd of people gathered to watch.

And then there was nothing left to do but wait. I could have never imagined the kind of experience of being up there, freezing, knowing you could be hit at any moments, but there was also a special kind of pain that came with being forced to sit around and wait.

Minutes would turn into hours, as I tried to keep myself occupied, to have something on my hands at all times. It was the only possible way to avoid driving yourself insane with worry.

So I went back to my everyday mansions, but if my hands were relatively easy to manage, however much I was doing my brain was a whole lot busier and there was no way to keep it empty.

My thoughts lingered on Harry and the last image of him that was burned into my brain: the way he smiled, the wind messing up his wavy hair. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that strange expression a few moments before he got on board: was he mad at me? If that was the last time I saw him, I never would’ve forgiven myself.

Finally we heard the alarm signaling the return of the planes and I held my breath, racing to the nearest window and counting them as they appeared together with everyone else. One, two, three, four, five…fifteen. Half of the original total number.

My heart was pounding in my chest as me and the other girls prepared to welcome the boys who’d made it back relatively unscathed.

I did my best to greet every last one of them with a smile, as they approached, handing them a blanket, a cup of coffee, a glass of water or whatever else they needed. But my eyes kept drifting away in search of the one crew I longed to see the most.

As I was leaning down to fetch other glasses, I heard a familiar sardonic voice: “Hello again, sweetheart”.

My face shot up: “Bucky! You’re alright!” I yelled. “Is he…?” I couldn’t even finish the question, my eyes searching his blue ones for the answer, he knew who I was talking about.

“Your navigator’s fine too” He said in a more confidential tone, smirking as said navigator finally appeared in my line of sight.

Heart racing, I scanned Harry up and down, he looked a little banged up but mostly intact. He cracked a half-hearted smile and before I knew it, I was running towards him and hugging him tighly.

He froze for a moment, taken aback, then his arms closed around my waist somewhat hesitantly.

“You’re not hurt, right?” I asked looking everywhere and fumbling with his clothes, suddenly concerned that I’d been too exhuberant. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay, really” He kept following my ministrations with his eyes as if I was some kind of desert mirage.

“Well it was about time” said Bucky looking at the two of us with a knowing smirk and a usual talent for ruining the moment.

Croz frowned, looking at me in search of an explanation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I gave a small chuckle, then gently took his hands in mine and secured them back around my waist, mine traveling up to his shoulders, holding eye contact. “What do you think it means?”

He blinked once, then twice as the realization slowly washed over him. “But I thought you…” His eyes drifted between the pilot and me and I finally understood.

That’s what that look was about?

“Me and Bucky?” I asked like it was the most ridiculous idea in the world. “Oh, you know the guy, he’s just a huge flirt. Nothing going on there”

“Oh” was all he could muster. It looked like the biggest weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

I took a small step back, reluctantly releasing myself from our embrace. “I have to get back to work and you have to go relax. I’ll meet you later” I promised and leaned on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, before slowly backing away still smiling at him.

“Later” Croz stood there stunned for a few seconds, raising his fingers to where my lips had touched him, until Bucky said something to him that my ears could no longer hear, but it made him burst into a laugh, a soft pink shade coloring his cheeks.

He was about to follow the pilot but then stopped again, turning in my direction. He smiled, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe what just happened. He waved goodbye at me and finally made up his mind and joined the rest of his group.