#graphic descriptions of wounds

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

Warnings: Bombs, death, blood, gore, suffering, idk a shit ton of organ failure?, emotional distress, destruction, ahem "toasted alive", graphic descriptions of wounds (Definetly missed some shit.)

Just stay safe guys, this is a story of self love :)

Prescript: this is the reincarnation au of the immortality au, but slightly tweaked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They barely hear the sirens blaring, before screeches and cries fill the air. They don't see it coming through the fluffy bangs they brushed this morning. They feel the impact for a split second before searing pain envelopes them. It burns their flesh entirely in a brilliant flash. Bones melting mere milliseconds after the flesh is incinerated. There is no time to react.

Heh this is new, who would have thought an immortal could run out of time?

how ironic.

they were infact a long distance from where the atomic bomb hit. The nuclear explosion carried quickly across the land. The few seconds Perkeo had were a millennium to the poor souls trapped beneath the blast. They managed to atleast heard the blare of the warning sirens first, no matter how fleeting that moment was. Their entire being had shut down, but death was nothing new to them. Though they had never been this destroyed.

they physically couldn't feel the way their remaining ashes, but their soul was ablaze. Just as their physical for was. The soul was desperate for a body to host, to rebuild itself. The immortal spirit never abiding by Perkeos wishes. The soul needed to be physical. It could never let go of the firm grasp it has on reality. Determined to live it wrenches its form back together. Ashes pulling together, just like that of a star.

Oh how fitting.

the strain put on the life form didn't deter it. As it painstakingly compressed itself back into a charred pile of dust. The dead cells begin to regenerate through unfounded energy. The spirit pouring all of the power in its inate being into producing some for of life. And piece by piece Perkeo was put back together. Wretchedly slow and gruesome, as it grows for a second time. This rebirth was different, it took more than life from Perkeo. The repair ripped their soul apart.

A rip in their eternal being.

it cut further than any knife, deeper than any sword. This was them. the true them. Not the body they were bound to. Their spirit within.

Perkeo awoke. In a desolate area. Repeatedly dying from organ failure, and misplaced insides. The fix was so desperate, it wasn't even sustainable. Once it rebuilt itself further, Perkeo would wake. Dying to the toxicity and lack of oxygen. No one came to the waste land in hope of survivors. They couldn't without becoming a casualty themselves. So Perkeo waited. And waited. And waited. Days turned to weeks, to months, to years, to decades, to centuries. Before the nuclear waste had eroded into something more livable. Perkeo awoke, unsure of this being real.

This was a first. They always knew they were real, usually they are the only static thing in the universe.

Perkeo barely opens their eyes to see the wreckage. Though it was more "liveable", that doesn't mean it was pretty. Gritty sand surrounding them. It took them too long to get their bearings. Dying from the shock a multitude of times after it set in. Once they knew what had happened.

they couldn't cry, they couldn't think, they just waited for death to take them. Only for it to return them with shaky palms. Unable to claim this defiant soul.

(So this is meant to end with Perkeo missing some of their ashes and gaining the ashes of many other bodies in their reincarnation. Something which hasn't occurred before, and it leads to this emptiness in them. They aren't whole. And they never can be again. something is innately wrong with this vessel now. Something not even fate nor immortality can fix.)

(The whole "tearing of their soul" was meant to become the sun and moon. In a twist of fate, even though their body can't be whole. The pieces of their soul come together over many lives. Always reconnecting on some level. Even I'd it can't be pieced back together, it can be content with their newfound proximity. They can always find eachother, even without searching, without knowing. Because they are all one. This is why they are perfect for eachother. Pieces of a puzzle torn into a shape where they can't mesh together, but still one image. Always belonging to one another. They weren't built for eachother with strings of fate bringing them together, they are eachother. They depend on eachother to function. Like a body with different systems. Like a brain with different sections. They must come together to fix eachothers needs of longing. Sure they are all technically one, but now that they are split they can take care of eachother. They don't have to rely on themselves, Perkeos existence and health became meaningless due to its endlessness. But now they aren't lonely, they have two other immortals. Parts of their soul able to help them, to stay by their side, to never leave, to never die. They love them with all of their being, even if it's just the things of their past self. Huh maybe that's why perkeo likes them so much. It's what they are now missing.)

Strangely the explosion may be the best thing that has ever happened to our dear perky,

After all,

They won't ever face anything alone again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Told ya it was about self love ;)

This is all noncannon, just me going insane.

If your seeing this it is a reminder to take a break. Eat. Sleep. Drink. Get up and move. Have a great day <3

I'm sorry but im just losing my crap laughing over the faz-ton of warnings and then " this is a story of self love tho 🫶 "

I read this a million times before and I have fun rereading it a million more

I have the softest of the spots for self love and how it projects on the way you love the world and the people around you

Everyone a round of applause to Suki who yet again graces us with chaos pain and suffering but this time with a twist of sugar sprinkled on top

And you heard her, break time!

[bardic-tales]

Tumblr Games: FF Edition: Six Sentences

Thank you so much for the tag, @sliceoflifeshepard. I loved your response to this.

Rules: Share six sentences of your recent work.

Tagging:

@watermeezer @nightingaleflowlibrary @megandaisy9 @themaradwrites

@serenofroses @kricketbee @pinkevilwriter @asirensrage

So, I have been working on short flash fictions for Whumptober. This is from the Trust Issues. This Sephiroth is the caregiver, and his future self is the whumper. This Sephiroth is a fragment attached to Bianca's soul and only exists for this event.

Content Warning: physical abuse, bruising and injury, graphic description of wounds

“Why are you doing this?” Bianca shied away from his hand, as her breath hammered in throat. Ugly marks ringed around her wrist: crimson against the delicate skin. The raw skin ached when it was touched, as small, bloody lines amalgamated with the dark purple bruises.

“I would never hurt you, Bia.” Sephiroth knelt before her. A forest green haze oscillated around him, raising up off of his shoulders like fine mist before twisting around before descending to rejoin the rest of the wispy veil that covered his body. "I'm not him."

[sourb0i]

Whumptober Day 16

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Prompt: Necrosis/wound cleaning/"no, I can't feel anything"

What if a snake was also a ghost?

[whumpdrivethru]

Can I get a uhhh… Defiant Whumpee with high-pain tolerance and a Caretaker who worries sick about them while Whumpee laughs at their own injuries??? Thank you!

Heyyy! Thank you for choosing the whump drive-thru! Enjoyyyyyyy < 3

Where Even Diamonds Shatter

TW: Blood, slightly graphic description of injuries, implied past captivity, implied past torture, bruises, angsty

It wasn't the rumbling thunder or the honking of cars speeding down the highway that roused Caretaker from their already fitful sleep. It was the frantic rapping at the door, that awfully distinct knock that tore them away from their sheets and cracked their eyes wide open.

"Ah, took you long enough," Whumpee quipped, smiling brightly at Caretaker, but there was nothing behind the eyes. Their whole body trembled, soaked to the bone in rainwater.

"Y-you look like hell," Caretaker rasped out, the concern still clear in their tone, even through their sleep-hoarse voice.

"I didn't imagine hell to be so wet." Whumpee let their lip curl upwards into a lopsided smirk as Caretaker frantically pulled them inside, unable to find Whumpee's jokes amusing the way they usually did.

Out of a force of habit more than anything else, Whumpee threw themselves on the couch, shrugging their boots off and tossing one leg over the other, the almost sarcastic groan too stoic of a reaction for the horrible state they were in right now. Their cheeks were hollow, and the bags under their eyes were dark and heavy, and they looked significantly older, even though Whumpee was barely an adult, much like Caretaker was. A patchwork of bruises in sickly shades of purple and brown marred their face, and scratches of various sizes littered their visage.

All of it made Caretaker terrified of what was concealed underneath the flimsy fabric of Whumpee's shirt as they mentally steeled themselves for the result.

"Spoiler alert, it isn't pretty," Whumpee quipped, their eyes full of mirth and amusement, and yet so unbearably empty as Caretaker lifted it up.

Ghastly. Horrifying. Gruesome. It didn't matter how many terrible words Caretaker used to describe the state Whumpee's abdomen was in, it would still be a sight burned into their eyes, engraved into their memory. Lacerations snaked across their body in various degrees of healing, the blood still fresh on some of them. The wounds were dull and ugly, clearly produced by a blunt tool, definitely not deadly, but fashioned to produce as much pain as possible. They looked more like the result of a vicious beast dragging its fangs through Whumpee's vulnerable flesh, slow and tormenting.

It wasn't that the wounds were simply unsightly; they were a reminder of all the torture Whumpee had been subjected to, of the extent of its brutality, and yet here they were, scoffing and laughing and making a show of rolling their eyes at every grimace and soft gasp that Caretaker gave. It amazed them, how they still managed to remain composed with injuries as deep as these.

"W-what did they do to you?" Caretaker breathed out softly, worrying their bottom lip in between their teeth, still unable to register what they were looking at, their eyes unfocused and glazed over.

"Ah this? Just a minor disagreement between civilised people, ya know. They say they want me to beg, and I say screw you. I'm not sure, but I don't really think they liked that," Whumpee replied offhandedly, laughing softly.

If it was anyone but Caretaker, they would've believed that laughter was genuine. They could see the hollow, lifeless look in their eyes, the way their muscles tensed, the subtle manner in which they clenched their jaw, all indicators of the severe pain they were in. They wished more than anything to scream at them to stop making a mockery of their injuries.

Instead, they went over to the bathroom, gathering medical supplies into their arms, only for Whumpee to raise an eyebrow at them sceptically. And just before they could let another snarky, ill-fitting joke fall from their lips, Caretaker tossed the supplies onto the coffee table, and their gaze turned steely.

"For the love of God, stop it! None of this crap is funny!" Caretaker thundered, their nostrils flaring as they picked up a few alcohol wipes and pressed them to Whumpee's many wounds.

"Oh come on, Caretaker," Whumpee drawled between hisses of pain as the antiseptic burned across their skin, the alcohol wipes turning crimson ridiculously fast, "would you rather I cry?"

"No," Caretaker bit out tersely, "but you shouldn't be making fun of it either."

"I shouldn't?" Whumpee hissed, voice dropping dangerously low, "Do you know how hard I bit down on my lips to stop myself from screaming, but I still did anyway? Do you know what it was like living a life where every goddamn moment is agony?!"

All their composure had disappeared into nothing, their walls broken down, the cold indifference replaced by a quivering lip and furious, shameful tears streaming down their face. Whumpee hurriedly wiped at them, as though acid was flowing down their face.

Caretaker's gaze softened as they crouched down a little lower, using the alcohol wipe in their hand to wipe the blood off their hands. They wiped the new tears off Whumpee's face with their fingers, blissfully cool against their burning skin. "I'm sorry, love," they whispered, carding their fingers through Whumpee's hair.

"You've been through a lot, I know. But it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay, I swear. It doesn't make you weak or whatever crap they told you. You don't have to laugh when you don't really want to," they continued with the same gentle tone, cupping their jaw and giving them a fond smile that still carried a forlorn air to it.

"I just don't want any pity," Whumpee attested, gaze downcast and full of uncertainty.

"And I understand that. You are strong for managing to make it through all this. I want to offer you care and not pity, love," they added, ruffling their hair affectionately.

Whumpee tried for a few false starts, but they ultimately decided on a nod and sucking in a shaky breath.

Their breathing began to slow a little as Caretaker resumed patching up their wounds, and while they still tried to keep their pain well-concealed beneath a clenched jaw as a force of habit, something a bit of time could heal, they weren't completely averse to displaying vulnerability, feeling a lot safer than they ever had in their life under Caretaker's gentle vigilance.

Vulnerability is not an indication of a lack of courage. And, while it may be difficult to process, all one needs is a steadfast companion; someone to lean on when they have been holding their own weight up for so long the way a mountain does. People are not broken objects in need of rigid fixing to return to what they once were, rather, the steps they take to heal, no matter how undesirable, are all that they need, vital to even the most resilient of minds.

Today's server is Natalia! If you enjoyed this meal, we'd all be honoured if you come again <3 <3 <3

[apersond]

@faeriekit I would have sent this as an ask, but then it got Long, so... TW for graphic descriptions of a flesh wound.

I have many fun medical stories from either myself or my family that I could tell, but the one that I enjoy telling most is from when I was 10 and the relevant brother in this story was seven.

So, it's a saturday morning, my siblings and I are all supposed to be cleaning our rooms. Brother Dearest, however, is not cleaning his room; he is messing around, jumping on and off the bed, and also, most importantly, he is playing with the mini-blinds cord. Specifically, he is wrapping the cord around his finger and then pulling his finger out of the coil, wrapping then pulling, wrapping then pulling. In a fit of genius, he decides to combine the jumping-off-the-bed with pulling-his-finger-out-of-the-coil, except this time, instead of the coil loosening and his finger smoothly sliding out, it cinches.

Tight.

------

A brief aside, there's this really delightful medical term that is just wonderfully evocative of exactly what it looks like when flesh is stripped from bone; it's called degloving.

------

Later, my brother claims that he didn't really feel anything at the time, and I suppose that makes sense as he didn't damage the nerves so much as remove them.

Because of this, he doesn't really begin to panic until he starts to bleed, and he bleeds a lot. His bedroom is in the basement, so in order to reach my mother upstairs, he has to climb a flight of stairs, round the kitchen, climb another flight of stairs and then round the landing, during which my mother is being treated to the rapidly rising sound of my brother crying out, "mom, mom, MOM! There's so much blood! MOM!!!"

My Mother is exactly the kind of person you want next to you in a crisis or emergency situation, and I like to think that I inherited this from her. In any case, my mom, who has four accident prone children with varying degrees of severe asthma, is a pro at emergency room visits. In this moment, she doesn't hesitate or freeze, just grabs a clean rag, wraps it around my brother's hand and herds him out the door and into the car and off they go. She doesn't stop to think or panic, just moves.

This will be important later.

------

Before she leaves, my mother calls me up from the basement and tells me that she's taking my brother to the ER, and that in the meantime, I, as the oldest child, need to watch my other two siblings. She's not gone long before I get curious as to what all the fuss is about and start nosing about. Because he didn't panic until he saw blood, my brother left a rather convenient trail of blood down the stairs, across the basement, and to my brother's room. There, I notice a round looking rubbery object on the window sill.

I think it's a bouncy ball.

Then I see the nail.

------

Meanwhile, at the ER, a nurse is unwrapping my brother's hand to get a look at his finger. Very calmly, she looks my mother in the eye and asks, "do you have the rest of his finger?"

Just as calmly, my mother replies, "I'm going to have to call my husband."

------

Realization of what exactly it is I'm looking at washes over me, and I spin to see my youngest two siblings indulging their curiosity just as I did in following the blood splatter down the stairs. They haven't come into the room yet, so they don't know what's happened. There's still time.

I push them both all the way up the basement stairs, shut the door at the top behind me, and declare with as much authority as I can that, "No one is going downstairs."

Soon, my dad will get home early from work. He has received a call from my mother with instructions to collect my brother's finger, put it on ice, and meet my mother at the ER to drop it off. I know exactly why he's there. I tell him my brother's finger is on the windowsill in his room downstairs. He leaves just as quickly as he arrives, and once again I'm left by myself and in charge of my siblings.

I will remain so for the rest of the day.

------

Back at the ER, my mother has now passed control of the situation to the nurses and has gained enough emotional distance to come out of crisis mode.

She's feeling a bit nauseous.

The nurse currently looking after my brother is certainly not helping; she's looking at the damage to my brother's finger again, and because it's uncovered, every time his heart pumps, blood spurts out and hits the nurse in the face. She doesn't re-cover his hand. It spurts again.

The nausea gets worse.

Finally, the doctor arrives to assess the situation and give my mother the options on the table, and my mother can refocus. The facts of the matter are that, because all the flesh was stripped from the bone, his finger is going to need some help getting blood and oxygen to the area to keep any reattached flesh from dying while the necessary blood vessels regrow.

The first option is to stitch the injured index finger to his middle finger, except that the top third of his finger would need to line up with the middle portion of the middle finger, meaning his finger would need to stay perpetually bent. If at any point he straightens out his index finger, it would tear out all the regrowing blood vessels and they would need to start again.

My mother is a little leery of this option, but thinks it might be doable. "How long would it need to stay bent without moving for?" she asks.

"6 weeks."

"There's no way! I don't know an adult that could do that, much less a seven year old! What are the other options?"

Option two is to make an incision in my brother's side and stitch his finger into his side. Again, if it is pulled out, they have to start over.

"For how long?"

"Six weeks."

"Can you not see how that's worse?"

Option three is to minimize how much reattached flesh needs to be oxygenated by filing down the bone in his finger and mostly just reattaching the nail bed. Recovery is once again 6 weeks, but this is the only option that feels doable. My mother picks this one.

------

My brother gets half a dozen numbing shots in his hand, but they don't knock him out or ask my mother to leave the room. My mother is still in the room when the hand surgeon pulls out an instrument that can only be described as looking remarkably akin to hedge clippers.

My mother's heart rate jumps a bit.

"That is not a file."

Neither the doctors nor the nurses hear her, the nurses are asking question after question to the doctor. They've never seen anything like this before. My brother is still not being knocked out and my mother is still not being asked to leave. They're going to do this right in front of them.

My mother's nausea returns.

My mother ends up asking a nurse for a sheet to hold up between herself and my brother and the nurses and doctor so they at least don't have to watch. They can still hear everything.

------

Finally, they put my brother's arm in a cast to keep the tendons in his hands from pulling on the healing area, instruct my brother to keep his arm above his heart as much as possible to keep blood from pooling, and to come back in six weeks to get the stitches removed.

And that's the story of how I found my brother's finger on the window sill. :)

[lex-munro]

[More Like Grand-Ish: Part 6] Reverie

OPLA ZoSan randomness continues; Sanji’s POV and speech use UK English.

A little light whump as a treat for morale.  And chiffon cake is what happens when you add oil and flavoring to angel food cake (because the low fat content of angel food actually means that it can’t hold on to flavor well).

Timeline is shortly after Alabasta, in that nebulous pre-Water-7 period that’s ripe for filler arcs.

Canon divergent/universe alterations, gay!Zoro and anything-that’s-pretty-enough!Sanji, Chopper is Done With This Terrible Patient, Zoro still hasn’t warmed up to Miss All-Sunday, ubiquitous bad language.  Recognizeable characters belong to Netflix, Oda, Jump, etc.

 ***

Reverie

  Wounds were inevitable on a pirate ship; it was why Chopper was so important.

Wounds were especially inevitable for a man who waded into battle, regardless of his skill, with weapons both fewer and of poorer quality than he was accustomed (a long and embarrassing story…Buggy would no doubt show back up with the Loguetown blades and try to challenge Zoro to a duel, or something).

The shallow slice across Zoro’s ribs was the result of a shitty substitute blade breaking when he tried to parry a blow to the throat.  The nasty stab through his foot was from the broken blade itself, and it had him half-blind with frustration (especially since that pointy-faced hag had been the one to save him from the next blow and fetch Chopper).

He had never been a good patient at the best of times, but sitting on the makeshift cot (a salvaged tabletop on the salvaged halves of a broken barrel) in Chopper’s little slapdash infirmary after the utter embarrassment of that morning put him in a contrary mood.

“No walking,” Chopper said in his scariest tone.  “None.  No weight on it at all.  Passive therapeutic motion only.  No kicking, no shoving, no standing or walking.”

Zoro grumbled.  “What about a crutch?”

Chopper’s face turned terrifying.  “You’ve shown before that you can’t be trusted with crutches, you fuckin’ fool, so just sit on your fuckin’ ass and rest, because it’s not gonna be my fault if you can never use that foot again.”

Fair point.  He’d been very bad about over-utilizing his legs right after Little Garden, and Chopper had been aghast at the long-term damage he’d then insisted on working to repair.

Zoro scowled, but didn’t argue.  A swordsman’s footing was crucial, and he’d never be the best if he lost strength or flexibility in a limb.

“You’re not leaving that bed without my permission—otherwise, I’ll put you in a diaper and drug you into a week-long coma.”

Zoro could and would suffer a lot of indignities, but that was over the line.  He’d rather be helped than helpless.  “Fine, I’ll stay in the stupid bed,” he promised.

“If you cheat…I’ll know,” Chopper said, and slipped out of the room while maintaining very threatening eye-contact.

Doctors were scary when they had a disobedient patient…

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad; he’d just sleep and meditate, reviewing the battle and his own performance in it, looking for the moment he should’ve known not to depend on the second blade that he’d scavenged from a treasure haul the week before.

Oh, shit.  Who else would be looking for a turn to scold him, though?  Chopper’s infirmary was currently located in a partition of the forward cannon room that everyone but Usopp refused to call a battery (the little reindeer had tried for the galley but been chased out at knife point, and he’d deemed the men’s cabin ‘too rowdy’), so people would be wandering past at all hours, and anybody might slip in to guilt-trip him.  Nami could get pretty mean when she was worried (as Usopp and his nearly-constant bruised shoulder could attest).  Robin should know to keep her distance, though she might turn up to mock him.  Sanji so far had been the type to dote while being depressing if Zoro got injured.  Zoro felt an ache in his stitched ribs just thinking about the crushing hugs and the crying.

Or maybe, since the wounds were from his own inattention, he’d get a third scolding instead (he harbored no hope that Nami wouldn’t hunt him down to call him five kinds of idiot).

The door opened.

Sanji stepped in with a covered tray.  “My poor, sweet man!” he cooed.  “You must be going stir-crazy at the thought of being confined to a sickbed for a week!”

Doting but happy?  Zoro did not trust that.  At all.  Sanji being doting but happy was a situation for girls.

“I’ve brought you some soup, precious,” Sanji went on, setting the tray aside and leaning down.  “Good arm only—no tearing your stitches, love.”

Bewildered, he obeyed, clinging to Sanji’s shoulders as he was moved into a sitting position with pillows supporting his torso.

“There.  Because we wouldn’t want you to incur Chopper’s wrath, would we?” Sanji said sweetly.

“You’re not pissed like he is?” Zoro asked carefully.

“You were making faces at the shitty sword all morning,” Sanji said.  “You knew it needed to go, but it’s not like we had time to replace it.  And you’re the sword expert—I’ve got no authority to tell *you* what went wrong or why.  Plus, seems like being stuck on bedrest will make you miserable enough without any nagging.”

That put a funny feeling in the pit of Zoro’s belly.  “Sorry.  For a minute, I thought you were buttering me up so you could go feral on me for…I dunno, ‘being reckless,’ or something.”

Sanji smiled.  “Yeah, well, we’d hardly be anything like we are now if you weren’t reckless.  And that’d be a shame, because I’ve never been with anyone, man or woman, longer than a week or two until you, and I’m hard-pressed to think of a time when I was happier, overall.”

Zoro stared and hoped he wasn’t blushing.  “You said you brought soup?”

Sanji laughed, and he certainly looked genuinely happy.  “Absolutely, darling.”

And when Zoro tilted his chin up, Sanji took the hint and kissed him.  (The whole time they were in Alabasta, he had completely missed every hint, and they’d had a few spats about it until Zoro said in no uncertain terms that he refused to verbally ask for a kiss every time, which had led to a discussion where Sanji finally realized he’d been extremely oblivious.)

“I’m glad you’re not in too much pain,” the blond noted as he held the bowl and let Zoro use the spoon.

“Hm?”

“You’d be yelling and complaining about unrelated shit if you were.  So at least I know it’s not too bad.”

He shrugged.  “Prob’ly hurt like hell if I moved my foot or raised that arm.”

Sanji beamed, complete with crinkled eyes.

Zoro wrinkled his nose.  “Oh my god, if you start cooing some lovesick shit, I will use my good foot to kick you.”

Sanji laughed.

“Stop it—you’re the worst.”

“I thought Miss Robin was the worst.”

“You’re becoming her rival for the title.”

The bastard cheated—he kissed Zoro again.

“Tell me about that dream again,” Zoro said, instead of pointing out just how gross and syrupy Sanji was being.

At that, Sanji’s voice turned wistful.  “Our ship was called ‘Kuina,’ and her figurehead was a woman-samurai, armoured but with her hair unbound.  Somehow, I’d learned your favourite food, and I was making it, but when I looked, the ingredients all blurred or vanished.  I’d grown a beard, though I don’t recall why.  You had a dashing scar over one eye, and sometimes prospective students would make the mistake of attacking your blind side…”

Zoro let the words wash over him as he ate his soup.  Building blocks.  A blueprint for what sounded like a wonderful life.  Find the All Blue, become the greatest swordsman, find the One Piece (in some order); get a ship with the perfect galley, get a crew to sail it who wouldn’t spend half their time offending Sanji and the other half being punished for offending him.

Sanji trailed off, just smiling in silence for a while.

Zoro dabbed self-consciously at his face.  “What?” he prompted.

“Nothin’.  Just can’t wait to grow old with you, that’s all.”

He got kicked for that.

And if Zoro was bright red and refusing to let the damn cook see his face, that was nobody’s business but his own.

“I hope you realize I don’t plan to be celibate for a week.”

Sanji clutched his chest.  “Surely you wouldn’t corrupt poor little Chopper!”

Zoro kicked him again.

~

Zoro was showing visible signs of mental strain by lunch of his third day of bedrest.  Between bedpans and boredom, he had a wild, unfocussed look to him, and he was always relieved to have visitors (even ‘the hag,’ as he termed poor Miss Robin).

So Sanji started deploying the layabouts when he had to be in the galley.  Usopp said he told stories but didn’t think Zoro was really listening; Robin said she talked about the history of warfare with him (and he pretended to be bored but was clearly fascinated); Luffy’s games and random conjecture could be heard almost anywhere on the ship (because he was especially attached to his first mate, and insisted it was his conversation that healed Zoro from the brink of death after the duel at Baratie); Nami bluntly said it was none of Sanji’s business what she talked about, boyfriend or not.

Sanji asked Chopper to teach him how to help take care of the stab wound.  The younger teen was reluctant—feet were surprisingly delicate and complicated, and the physical therapy was painful.

“I don’t think it’s good for you to have to hurt him,” Chopper said.  “Assuming you can even bring yourself to do it right, out of fear of causing pain…”

“He’s gonna get stabbed again eventually,” Sanji cajoled.  “Someday, he’ll have his own pirate ship under Admiral Luffy—or Commodore, if he likes that better—and you won’t be there, and someone will have to take care of him.”

“By the time he has his own ship, he’ll have his own doctor,” Chopper pointed out.

Sanji sighed through his nose.  “All right, look…I want to be able to do something that helps him without making him feel like an invalid.”

Chopper levelled him with a hard stare.  “He is an invalid.  That’s what you call it when somebody’s confined to a bed for their own health.”

“You’re the one who sees him most, aside from me—surely you’ve seen the emotional toll all this is taking.”

“If you mess up my hard work or chicken out, I’m not bothering to teach you more.”

“Deal.”

So Chopper showed him how to check the health of a puncture wound, how to palpate the track to check for undue swelling that might signal internal problems, how to move to limb to avoid stiffness or disadvantageous scarring while avoiding the use of the damaged muscles.  And Chopper taught him the physiological signs of pain and shock, as well.

“He can try to put a brave face on it, but the fluctuation of pulse and temperature are good indicators that his body’s producing the chemicals triggered by a certain degree of subjective pain.  There are a lot of nerves in the human foot—that’s how you can do all that fancy footwork.  His threshold is impressive, but this is a catastrophic injury, so it’s going to hurt.”

“I’m literally right here,” Zoro grumbled.

“Shut up like a good teaching dummy,” Chopper ordered.

“What happened to the sweet little guy who blushed when Nami called him a hero?”

“He got used to how stupid you are and how unlikely you are to do as you’re told when he tried the sweet bedside manner!” was the grumpy retort.  “All right, Sanji—try the mobility exercise.”

And it turned out that he was good at it, because Zoro would sit perfectly still, enthralled by Sanji’s touch and more stories of his ideal restaurant.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, you know,” Zoro said on the fifth day, while Sanji was moving all the fiddly little bones near the ankle.

Sanji glanced up past the curtain of his hair.  “Oh yeah?”

“Mm.  Figured I’d sleep with you till you got bored and we’d just be…I dunno, rivals or something.  Sparring partners.”

Sanji grinned.  “Well, I never meant to fall in love with you, either.”

Zoro looked positively enchanted by that answer.  He gave one of his tiny little smug smiles.

“The sex is great,” Sanji admitted, “but it’s your…resolve, I guess.  That’s the part that drew me in more.  And then, suddenly, all the little things made me long to get used to you:  to know your sleeping face, and your favourite food, and whether you liked sunrises or sunsets best.”

“What would the staple dishes be?” Zoro asked, possibly proud of remembering the phrase.  “For your restaurant on our ship?”

“Hm…I think a nice miso soup, a salad with a tangerine vinaigrette, broiled salmon with creamy spring potatoes, and some kind of chiffon cake.”

“What’s chiffon cake?”

“I’ll preface this by saying it doesn’t have to be very sweet…but it’s the smoothest, fluffiest cake you can make and still have a strong flavour.  If you could turn the soft, tender chewiness of mochi into cake, that’s chiffon cake.”

“Sounds nice,” Zoro mumbled, and when Sanji looked up again, he was asleep.

~

Getting his stitches removed wasn’t great, but it was a signal that Chopper thought Zoro might be ready to move around.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” Chopper said firmly.  “None of your foolishly random napping.  You can sleep in a hammock, or you can sleep in the infirmary.  And no climbing the mast to sleep in the crow’s nest, either!”

Zoro scowled.

“Discomfort is expected, but sharp pain means something is wrong,” Chopper finished, holding out a crutch.  “If you try to put weight on it and it feels weak, ease off.  I know you heal quickly, but feet can be tricky.”

His first stop was the galley, where Sanji was cleaning whatever mysterious fish Usopp and Luffy had caught that morning.

“Up and about already, sweetheart?” Sanji said without looking up from guts and scales.

“Can I help?” Zoro wondered (a little desperately).

Sanji smiled.  “You precious thing—so tired of being stuck in bed you’ll even come do busy work.  All right, if you’ll sit and give your foot a little rest, you can finish raking the scales off this absolute beast the captain reeled in.”

So he slid onto the bench and waited while Sanji laid out a canvas tablecloth before depositing a monstrous forty-pound thing that might have been some kind of snapper or bonito.

“Don’t worry bout being tidy with it,” Sanji advised as he set down the scale rake.  “Just try to be thorough, since they’ll spoil the texture of the crispy skin.  I’ll make stock of it later.”

“Hey, waiter,” Zoro said as Sanji started to turn away.  He raised his chin.

“You make your demands known like a cat,” Sanji teased, but kissed him.  “It’s adorable.”

Zoro ignored the remark.  “Tell me more about chiffon cake.”

Laughing, Sanji leaned in and kissed him more thoroughly.  “I love you so, you bloody barbaric cabbage.”

  .End.

[licht1900]

whumptober | ᴅᴀʏ ₁₉

(back on my shit & trying to catch up on the missed days.)

                       • ❝blood trail❞ •

× fandom: one piece × pairing: blackleg sanji/roronoa zoro × rating: teen and up audiences × genre: angst, hurt/comfort × word count: 926

                      ───── ☠ ─────

[hummingbird-of-light]

June of Doom Day 3

3. “I can handle it.” 

| Kidnapping | Fracture | Struggle |

TW: crash, open wound, blood and injury, graphic description of violence and death, major character death, animal attack

~

"Please, I just want to know if someone made it out alive."

Khan didn't respond to Scott's pleads. Instead, he focused on the shuttle's controls.

"They-" the Scotsman tried to talk once again, but the augment harshly cut him off.

"They killed my family!

Scotty's eyes widened and he winced. No... that was impossible! He knew his crew. They'd never...

"Nae..."

"My crew was hidden in the torpedoes. Spock and the rest of your oh-so-precious crew detonated them."

Scotty still couldn't believe it. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to find some words.

"An eye for an eye, Mr. Scott. They killed my crew... so I killed them."

The engineer's face went pale and he ran a hand through his hair. Was it really true? Had they actually killed Khan's crew?

Quiet sobs escaped his mouth, despite him trying to hide it.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't take the pain.

An image of Keenser appeared in front of his closed eyes.

No...

'I can handle it,' a soft voice in his mind reminded him. He'd had to get through this kidnapping. For his friend.

++++++++

"Where are we going?"

The engineer looked at Khan, wiping away last tears. He didn't have time to mourn just yet. He had to find a way to break free.

"Somewhere I can think. Somewhere I can plan just what I do to your Starfleet."

Khan wanted revenge. That was quite obvious. And Scotty didn't like the look in the augment's eyes. Whatever part did the Scotsman play in that plan?

"And ye expect me to help ye?"

Khan glanced at his hostage, a dangerous twinkle in his eyes.

"If you want to stay alive."

Scotty swallowed. He didn't want to die. Despite everything he'd lost, there was still a reason to fight.

"What-"

Khan didn't get to finish his question for suddenly, a red alert started to ring.

Scotty jumped up from where he was sitting and looked at the control panels. His eyes widened in horror.

"We are being pulled into that planet's orbit. It's too strong for this wee shuttle!"

Panic rose inside of Scott's chest. He had survived and now he'd die in a crash?

"We have to get out of here."

Khan stayed as cool as ever. He got up and walked over to where he expected the rescue pods, however, there were none.

"We're going to die," Scotty breathed fearfully.

"No, we're not. I'm going to land this shuttle."

Khan walked back to the controls and Scotty just stared at him in disbelief.

"Ye cannae land it! The systems are failing!"

They had entered the planet's atmosphere and were now crashing towards the ground.

"I will land it," Khan repeated his words and he actually stayed true to them.

When the shuttle hit the ground, Scotty was hit by some debris that fell from the ceiling. Luckily, he had sat back down in his seat again, so he wasn't thrown around like a rag doll.

Yet still, pain shot through his body at the impact. He managed to undo his seat belt and looked around. Smoke made it hard to see, but he made out the figure of Khan.

He wasn't moving.

Scotty got up from where he was sitting, but as soon as he tried to take a step, a sharp pain shot through his leg. He looked down and almost instantly his stomach turned around.

A sharp piece of metal was pierced through his thigh. How had he not noticed it right away? Blood was streaming out of the wound and Scotty knew that he needed medical help as soon as possible.

Groaning in pain, he made his way over to Khan. There was a cut on the augment's forehead. Apparently he had hit it.

Scotty stared at the man's chest for a moment and when he saw it moving up and down, he knew he didn't have much time.

He had to escape! Now!

As fast as he could, the engineer opened the shuttle's door and got out of it.

However, his hope for help, was quickly destroyed when he looked at his surroundings.

A desert!

Green sand and a reddish sky with a hot burning sun. No people or buildings.

The Scotsman swore loudly in Gaelic. This wasn't fair! His only spark of hope was stumped out in merely a few seconds.

He glanced over his shoulder. Khan was still not moving.

Scotty knew that it was his only chance. So he started to run. Well... it was more of a quick limp.

The pain in his leg got worse with every step he took, but Scott tried his best to remind himself of his mantra.

"I can handle it. I can handle it. I can handle it."

He repeated the words over and over again. He just had to believe in them. Then everything would be fine.

But the sun was burning and he was getting weaker and weaker. He felt the sweat run down his face like water. He felt his throat drying up.

And eventually his body couldn't take it anymore.

Scotty collapsed and the world around him started to spin. He was feeling dizzy, about to throw up.

The last thing he saw were feet and a person kneeling down to him. A deep voice filled his ears.

"You shouldn't have tried to run, Mr. Scott. Now you'll pay the price."

Khan.

He had followed him. He had found him. But he wouldn't help him.

Scotty heard strange noises coming closer. It sounded like snarling. But his eyelids were too heavy to take a look at whatever was there.

"As the saying goes, the devil takes the hindmost."

He heard Khan's footsteps disappear into the distance.

And suddenly all hell broke loose. Something attacked Scotty. Teeth and claws buried themselves inside his flesh and the Scotsman couldn't help but scream.

'I'm sorry, Keenser.'

He should have known that the planet wasn't uninhabited. He should have known that something was waiting out in the desert.

His screams for help were drowned out by the noises of the creatures feasting on him.

Scotty's last thoughts were with his friend, who he had left behind.

He hadn't been able to handle it.

[destinyclan]

Before Moon 0 (7/8)

This was far from how Grousestar expected this night to go. And it was seriously messing with her mind.

Though a little anxious at first, at the prospect that nobody would be joining her and Tempesthaze, to which Tempesthaze kindly reassured her that she would remain by her side nonetheless, her fears were soon disproven. Sunnyfeather had decided to take Aphidkit along with her to the journey. "You found him after all, it's really only fair. And this way, you won't have to worry much about how he'll survive back in the clan." she had said. A little while later, two feisty apprentices showed up, Cranepaw and Tempestpaw respectively, begging to join the new clan. Grousestar hesitated, but felt herself obliging, since she felt she wasn't really in any position to turn any cat down, a fact that would prove itself later again, when the two warriors who arrived later, introducing themselves as Bouncerise and Oriolespeckle, seemed pretty displeased with the last cat to join thus far, a she-cat named Shortgrass.

But despite this, things went well. Grousestar caught the first piece of fresh kill in moons that had more than skin on it's ribs. Eating it felt like eating a piece of prey from StarClan. She saw the sun shine at sundown in a way that she hadn't seen in a long, long time. Truly, she felt like this was right.

Later in the night, the cats were arguing about rest. Tempestpaw wanted to continue, but Tempesthaze reminded her to mind the other members of the group, Sunnyfeather and the kit in particular. Just as Grousestar decided to call it a night and make a shelter, a faint bloody scent reached her nose, far too intense to be anything old. The others seemed to have caught it too, as Tempesthaze pretty instinctively ran towards it to investigate. Grousestar's stomach turned at the sight of another cat's leg, injured and ridden with an infection, but Tempesthaze did not hesitate for a moment, immediately crawling underneath the bush that that cat had seemingly made it's nest. Grousestar followed.

The cat's chest moved, but she was breathing shallowly. Painstakingly lifting her head at the new arrivals, she used her frail voice to plead.

"Please... save her..." Grousestar tilted her head, a little confused, before the she-cat moved her tail to reveal a tiny kitten, barely a moon old, clinging to her mother's belly. Meanwhile, Tempesthaze had already made a move to order the rest of the group. "You two, go get cobwebs! And marigold, if you know what it looks like!" She commanded Bouncerise and Oriolespeckle, who immediately got going. To the apprentices, she said "Go fetch moss and get it wet, so she has something to drink!" and lastly, once the apprentices were on their way too, she turned to Shortgrass. "I'll go look for marigold and nettles, you come with me if you know what they look like. If you don't, help guard the cat and Sunnyfeather with Grousestar." Not awaiting a response from Shortgrass, she immediately went on her way. The aching queen uttered inaudible words, not long before she would sigh, in pain but too exhausted to scream. It wouldn't be too long before everyone returned, the apprentices first who were quickly ushered under the bush by Grousestar, who was speaking reassuring words to the wimpering cat.

"Don't worry, we'll help you! Have this..." She used the wet moss to drip water into the dry mouth of the cat. She heard a very faint "Thank you" from here, before she began crying out in pain again. Tempesthaze, Bouncerise and Oriolespeckle returned aswell, and Tempesthaze began her treatment, desparately working against what she knew were impossible odds. How long had she been living like this, the medicine cat wondered, taking note of how far the infection had spread. Did she have enough time to save her? "Keep her awake! She can't fall asleep! You two, bring the kitten to Sunnyfeather!" The queen let out a heartbreaking noise as her kitten has gently taken away from her flank, but Grousestar rested her nose upon her head. "Don't worry. We will save her, like you said." It seemed to have worked, but now the queen was getting quieter again.

"What's you name?" Grousestar asked, in a bid to keep her awake. "Muddy..." the she-cat whispered, and Cranepaw parroted the bizarre name back to her. "I was a kittypet..." Her heavy gaze fixated on something hidden between the bushes' leaves: a thick, red vine, the kind that kittypets wore around ther neck. "My twolegs had a dog... usually he was harmless but then he..." She began weeping, as she assumably recalled the events of her injury. Grousestar buried her nose deeper into her fur. A clan cat like her was already well aware of the kind of things dogs were capable of. She could only imagine how a kittypet, with no fighting experience, fared in that situation. "I didn't think about it... I just... ran."

Muddy's breathing slowed down, her eyes got even wetter than before. "... I just wanted to be happy... and have my kits..." she cried, her voice getting quieter and quieter. At last, she gazed up into Grousestar's eyes, who felt extremely haunted by the gaze she met. The queen was about to die, and they were all helpless to watch.

"... Will you protect her?"

"Yes! I promise we will. She will be safe with us."

A final breath. A hint of relief and happines, before her eyes went completely blank. Empty.

Tempesthaze growled out in sadness, and frustration a moment later. She looked at the dead cat, the cast of herbs she had applied hoping it would help as a last ditch effort. He brought her nose down to her pelt for a moment, before leaving the bush to check up on Sunnyfeather. Grousestar remained for a little longer, looking at the queen, as well as the two apprentices who were still holding onto the wet moss, horrified at what they had just seen. Then she left too.

Sunnyfeather had accustomed the kitten to her in the meantime. Oriolespeckle had fetched some more moss to temporarily nest in, and for the kitten to stay warm. She was feeding well, seemingly without issue. Having left the bush a few leaps behind them, the group gathered around Sunnyfeather, looking down at this tiny being.

They were all silent, some looking away, some at each other, sadness in their eyes, uncertainty, but also hope. Some only having eyes for the kitten, who looked exactly like her now deceased mother. Mobody dared saying a thing, not about what had just happened, or this kitten. That was, until one of the apprentices leaned in closer. Cranepaw, too, seemed to have noticed the resemblance, as she carefully brought her nose closer to the kitten and cautiously spoke her mind. "Mudkit..." she whispered, before looking up at Sunnyfeather with big eyes. She closed hers, as she replied. "Yes, that sounds lovely..."

[acciokaidanalenko]

Taking on the Universe: Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: The Rogue Spectre

Summary: The Squad finally reaches the Prothean Beacon, and uncovers a betrayal none of them could have anticipated.

CW/TW: Mention of blood and fatal head wound.

Preview of chapter below the cut. AO3 link: here.

The monstrous ship that had loomed over the squad as they’d approached the spaceport now towered over them as they reached the dock. It opened up before them as they slowly trudged down the ramp that led to the wide platform. The area was mostly clear, though a few crates still remained scattered haphazardly across the space. Natasha’s eyes were drawn toward the object resting near the edge of the platform, which could only be one thing; the Prothean beacon.

It was taller than she’d imagined it to be, and a low, gentle hum could be heard emanating from it as it glowed brightly. Stranger than that, suspended in the air in front of it was the other Turian they’d heard so much about.

Natasha glanced up at Nihlus as he stood beside her, and it was plain by the expression on his face that he recognized who this was.

As the squad approached, slowly and uncertainly, the beacon seemed to release the Turian. He landed gently on the ground in front of it, his eyes glowing with the same green light that still pulsed around the beacon. He turned on his heel, facing them as they approached.

“Saren?” Nihlus asked in a bewildered tone as he lowered his gun. Natasha knew then that she had been right; he not only recognized him, but also seemed to trust him. “What are you doing here?”

Saren seemed distant at first, but his eyes soon gained focus as the light began to fade from them. He turned his attention to Nihlus, and after a few moments he seemed to register who stood in front of him. Natasha took this opportunity to silently signal to her squad to spread out and find cover.

“The Council sent me, old friend. They knew things would go wrong. You know how it is with the Alliance.”

[kingofcards]

🩹 -reveromantique

@reveromantique | 🩹 Your muse takes care of my muse after a bad injury | Bring me Gumgum |

/You dumbdumb./ Quistis thought to herself as she entered her apartment in Winhill after finally being given some leave from SeeD duties and finding Seifer unconscious on her kitchen floor.

The medkit from under the sink was next to him, still unopened. With a sigh more to keep the freak-out she could feel building at bay, she moved over and checked his pulse. A sigh of relief escaped when it was steady and strong. It was concerning that his breathing was so shallow however. She took a moment to look him over, not finding what the issue was until she could roll him over.

"For fuck's sake Almasy." Three bullet wounds in his ribs, she was assuming at least one had punctured his lung. She reached over and opened the medkit, quickly grabbing out everything she would need and pulling up an old video of one of Dr. K's classes she'd taken in case she couldn't figure this out. Lungs were tricky after all. Had to make sure no liquids got in while trying to close a hole in a very bloody mess. Not to mention having to fish out the bullets.

She took a calming breath and then set to work, tearing his blood soaked and bullet ridden shirt away from the area as carefully as she could since it seemed to be stuck in places. She was assuming he hadn't been here that long as he wasn't lying in a giant puddle of blood, and it was still bleeding even though some of it was congealed already.

"Shit." She closed her eyes for a moment then stood up and headed for the bathroom, grabbing several towels and then rushing back. She took her boots off and tossed them aside, not wanting to get the leather soaked in blood if she could help it. Then she pulled out the numbing agent and gave Seifer several shots in various places around the wounded area so that her pulling out bullets hopefully wouldn't hurt so much. Honestly, she kept expecting him to wake up and cuss her out, but he'd barely moaned when she rolled him over. After waiting a bit for the agent to work she put on gloves, grabbed the forceps and set to work picking out bullet pieces. Thankfully it seemed they hadn't fractured much, and while one fell in half upon setting it on the floor, it came out as a whole.

Bullets removed she grabbed up a gaze pad and pressed it into the wounds, holding it there not only to soak up the blood, but to hopefully stop the bleeding. She would need to stitch him up too, she wasn't looking forward to it. What she really needed now was for him to wake up so she could get a potion in him.

[fandom-happy]

Sicktember 2023 - Day 5: Preventative measures (not taken)

Summary: Malcolm’s attempt to ignore his way through an injury backfires as spectacular as it was always going to.

[secret-bug-pain-blog]

Fun fact about us! We have precisely No filter for "how much gore is too much gore", because we just... don't get squeamish about it almost at all.

Part of this effect is that we spend ages waffling over how to tag things because we just... don't have a point of comparison for things, and trying to find them results in us running into a lot of stuff we wouldn't consider gory at all being tagged as gore. We'll sit there like "this is a skeleton! this is bones!" and we'll feel like it must be, like, overtagged "just to be safe" type stuff, because, well, it's not gore, it's just a skeleton arm! Maybe a cartoony cross-section! It doesn't read as gore, it just reads as, like, cool character design to cartoon violence.

Part of this is that we'll click on things with "MAJOR GORE SUPER UNSETTLING CLICK AT YOUR OWN RISK" and end up just... underwhelmed. Like, we know in theory that we have a much better gore tolerance than most people, but in practice, like. It's utterly baffling to us that people will be that sensitive over blood. It's just, like... you're calling this "major gore"? It's one arm with a slightly messy disconnect! Like, sure, put a gore warning on it, but we expected more than just one slightly messy arm! They barely even look anything more than surprised about it!

[arkive78]

One Piece Fic Recs that occupy my mind nonstop

After really getting into One Piece this past spring, I've been reading as much as tumblr and AO3 have offered me in terms of One Piece content. It's been hard to keep track of everything that I have read, however, certain stories/headcanons/posts linger in my mind and I thought I'd share them with you!

Minors DNI with fics marked as NSFW and for anyone, be sure to read the content warnings the authors have mentioned!

Hope y'all enjoy!

Updated: October 1, 2024

Killer

Childhood Crush by @analogwriting

does involve violent themes, please be sure to read content warnings for each chapter

Will You Let Me? by @fanaticsnail

NSFW, Pollen AU

Dreaming of You by @fanaticsnail

this also includes Heat and Kid

NSFW

The Break (Kid x reader x Killer) by @standfucker

Gore, graphic description of injury/pain/first aid, hurt/comfort, confessions, highly oblivious reader

Rotation (Heat, Kid, Killer, Wire x reader) by @standfucker

explicit NSFW content

Loving you is easy by @sheerxfiction

NSFW

Three Times Killer Tried to Confess and The One Time That He Did by @nina-ya

SFW

Acid, Salt, Fat, and Heat (w/ Kid) by @fanaticsnail

NSFW

Ace

SFW:

A world we are both in by @my-love-is-sunlight

Kiss by @my-love-is-sunlight

Patching Up Ace's Wounds by @nina-ya SFW

there are more of this prompt with different characters btw!

Help by @sanjisprincesswifey

Blinders On by @froggiewrites

Taking the hit for him by @grandline-fics

NSFW:

Open Flame by @willowbelle

Ace + back dimples by @tetzoro

Fated Reunions by @tetzoro

Coward by @mimi-ya

Need by @maddddstuff

Ass or Tits? by @cloudzoro

Follow Through by @froggiewrites

My Pretty Little Thief by @turtletaubwrites

Zoro

SFW:

Bloom by @tetzoro

brazen by @mydearlybeloathed

"we should get married" by @grandlinedreams

wake him up! by @sleepymarimo

He Loves Me by @clare-875

Got me losin' my cool by @bitchimasnake-sss

Insomnia: owner's instruction by @revasserium

NSFW:

The Right Direction by @willowbelle

with hearts aligned by @eelnoise

2 years overdue by @heyitsdoe

pumpkin by @cloudzoro

beg for me by @angel1010xx

Waterflow by @otkuhotgirl

Law

SFW:

touch-starved Law by @maroronoa

the death of me by @weneeya

too sweet for me by @my-love-is-sunlight

there are no conditions by @cozage

Hidden symptoms by @escenariosinfumables

Unspoken affections by @avocadorablepirate

NSFW:

Tethered Together by @tetzoro

Luffy

A secret by @missmugiwara

18+, suggestive

SFW:

you can talk to me, but you already know by @mydearlybeloathed

clueless by @grandline-fics

Bachata by @fanaticsnail

Mihawk

Sapsorrow by @fanaticsnail

has both SFW and NSFW so make sure to read the chapter warnings!

Creative Cures by @discordantwritings

NSFW

Shanks

SFW:

Remember Me by @fanaticsnail

Dancando Lambada by @fanaticsnail

NSFW:

Always return to you by @discordantwritings

Sanji

NSFW:

Citrus by @otkuhotgirl

Multiple characters

Hey Doc by @fanaticsnail

some NSFW themes depending on the drabble

so very very funny

The Kissing Booth by @fanaticsnail

Paulie, Luffy, Hongo, Smoker, Aokiji, Heat, Crocodile, Sanji, Shachi, Law, and Zoro (right now)

my favorite ones are: Luffy, Smoker, Heat, Shachi !

Competency, Stupidity, Duality by @fanaticsnail

kid, zoro, and killer

SFW

Post Injury by @standfucker

law, shanks, rosinate, blackbeard, mihawk

gore content warnings

Gremlin Reader by @standfucker

Straw Hats, Whitebeard Pirates, Heart Pirates, and Kid Pirates

literally the funniest fucking thing I've ever read

they hurt you while controlled by a devil fruit by @grandline-fics

zoro, law, shanks

angst, descriptions of injury, and hurt/comfort

Beauty scars by @cozage

law, kidd

borderline NSFW

Truth or Dare by @cozage

Ace, Shanks, Luffy, and Law

SFW + NSFW, the NSFW section is clearly marked by the author

Oblivious flirting by @cozage

Law, Luffy, Ace

SFW

A Plushie Substitute by @cozage

Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, Law

SFW

Five things he says when he thinks you're asleep by @imasimpforshanks

Law, Ace, Shanks

SFW

the moment they knew you were the one by @imasimpforshanks

Luffy, Zoro, Ace, Sanji, Shanks, Law, Sabo

fluff

Falling in love with them by @imasimpforshanks

Ace, Law

SFW

OP to you being clueless to their flirting/feelings part 1 by @astelren

Ace, Luffy, Sabo, Zoro Sanji, Izou, Cavendish, Rayleigh, Law

fluff

there's a part 2!

Being scared to have sex with them by @strawhatsoraya

Zoro, Law, Kid, Ace

obviously NSFW

Calling them my love by @lehguru

Law, Sabo, Ace, Kid, Killer, Bartolomeo

SFW

Kid, Zoro, Law, & Sanji with a s/o afraid of having sex by @eustasskidagenda

NSFW

there are 2 other parts with different characters!

A celestial dragon wants their fem!s/o by @uramakimochi

Zoro, Sanji, Law

SFW

there's another part too!

Hand placement by @cloudzoro

Ace, Crocodile, Law, Mihawk, Nami, Reiju, Robin, Sanji, Tashigi, Zoro

NSFW

god the ones about the girls are SO GOOD

affectionate + strawhats by @lehguru

SFW

OP boys in a relationship by @moonydustx

SFW

growing old together by @usernameforaboredcat

Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

SFW

sobbed

one piece boys rescuing you by @badgerbl00d

law, zoro

sfw

heartstopper by @sleepymarimo

luffy, sanji, zoro, law

sfw

party games they'd play as an excuse to kiss you by @imasimpforshanks

luffy, zoro, nami, ace, law, shanks

sfw

Op characters reacting to you kissing them and running away by @princeoftheeternalbog

luffy, zoro, sanji, nami, robin, usopp, ace, marco, izou, sabo

slightly suggestive, mdni

Number Games by @turtletaubwrites

multi-chapter story with Cross Guild x reader

very NSFW, read the tags very carefully

Random Flirting Headcanons by @feral-artistry

Shanks, Buggy, Sanji, Ace, Law, Zoro

SFW

Here's part 2 with more characters

Jealousy fueled kiss w/ “Do you have any idea how much I want to kiss you right now?” by @grandline-fics

Ace, zoro, law, kid, lucci

sfw

Thinkin about: the monster, trio, ace ‘n law! Vs breeding kink! by @bitchimasnake-sss

luffy, zoro, sanji, ace, law

nsfw

Habits of touch by @clare-875

Zoro, sanji, luffy

sfw

Butterflies -- how they realize they have feelings for you (touch edition) with Luffy, Zoro, and Law by @radishaur

luffy, zoro, law

sfw

multiple versions! this one is just my favorite hehe

[punkshort]

Night Shift

Thank you anon for this request!

Pairing: Joel Miller x nurse!reader

Summary: It was a relatively quiet night in the emergency room until a handsome contractor gets admitted and adds some excitement to your life.

Warnings: language, descriptions of wounds/injuries/blood (typical hospital junk), needles, drugs (the medical kind), fluff, flirting, rom-com vibes, soft!joel, just a little smut (18+ MDNI)

WC: 7.3K

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: I'm fully aware some things I'm about to describe is probably incorrect (medically) but let's suspend that disbelief for a fun, fluffy story, shall we?

"Dr. Fisher wants you in room 504, but if you're too busy, I would be more than willing to go," Lily said, leaning over the counter with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"I haven't had anything to do other than charts for the past two hours, how on earth could I be too busy?" you asked, standing up and draping your stethoscope around your neck. Then you froze, realizing Lily never tries to take a patient off your hands. "Wait... why are you offering?"

She grinned and flopped down in the swivel chair next to you, crossing her legs. "The guy is smokin' hot," she whispered with a wink. "I just got a glimpse when I brought Fisher the computer cart, but..." she exhaled loudly and fanned her face. "Even with all the blood, you can tell he's a fox."

"Blood?!" you exclaimed, jogging around the nurse's desk, "why didn't you tell me?"

"He's stable, it's not-" Lily began, but you were already hustling down the hall. When you skidded to a stop outside room 504, you were relieved there wasn't a flurry of staff running in and out of the room, indicating whatever was waiting for you wasn't life threatening.

As you entered through the open door, you rapped two knuckles on the wood to announce your presence. Dr. Fisher, standing at the patient's bedside and blocking your view, glanced over his shoulder and nodded while you washed your hands. You heard him talking to a man with a deeper southern drawl than you were used to, and by the sound of it, he was in pain. You plucked two gloves from the box on the wall and snapped the latex on, turning around with a practiced smile right as Dr. Fisher introduced you by name.

Lily was right. Your eyes landed on a painfully good looking, dark haired man sitting up in the bed with one leg draped over the side, as if he was getting ready to bolt. You tried to not let your gaze linger, but the way his thighs stretched out his worn, bloody jeans and his shoulders filled out his ripped flannel held your attention longer than you expected. He first glanced over at you right when you noticed the laceration on his forearm and you went into autopilot.

You began to pull various instruments from a cabinet without instruction, already anticipating what the doctor would need before he began to rattle off requests, which you mentally jotted down and nodded in acknowledgement when he was finished.

"I'm gonna give you a local anesthetic and then clean and stitch this up. Are you allergic to anything, Mr. Miller?" Dr. Fisher asked.

"No," he said, his eyes still stuck on you as you worked. "Call me Joel," he added, his eyes flicking up to the doctor once he realized he was staring. Tommy smirked from the corner of the room and tucked his chin to his chest.

"Only thing he's allergic to is askin' for help," Tommy joked. You startled and glanced over your shoulder. Somehow you had missed the second man in the room when you first walked in. Joel scowled in his direction.

"Ignore my brother," Joel muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"Can you prep him and give him 20MLs of the local? I'll be right back, I have another patient waiting to get discharged," Dr. Fisher said to Joel, who nodded and lifted his leg onto the bed, resigning himself to a long night.

Your gaze drifted over his clothes, ruined by all the blood that had gushed from his arm. "This looks pretty nasty. What happened tonight, Joel?" you asked, using your typical distraction technique while you worked unwrapping instruments and lying them out on a tray. When he didn't answer right away, you met his gaze and smiled, assuming he was squeamish and doing to do your best to reassure him.

He blinked and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. Um, got hurt at work."

You frowned, your eyes roaming over his face now that you were closer and hoping he didn't notice the way you stared a moment too long at his soft looking lips. "What do you do that you're working so late?"

"I'm a contractor," he said, mesmerized by the way you effortlessly moved around, probably just going through the motions but to him, it looked so impressive. The monitor next to his bed beeped faster and he glared up at it, angry at the heart monitor for betraying him.

"Lots of things need to be built at midnight?" you teased, making him chuckle.

"I'm behind on a project and my daughter had a sleepover tonight so I figured I'd do a little extra work," he explained, wincing when he moved his injured arm.

You nodded, latching on to the new piece of information. You loved it when patients had kids. It was a great way to keep them talking and calm. But right as you were about to ask her name, the second man chimed in.

"Yeah, 'cause otherwise he'd be home alone," he said, making the both of you stop and stare at him. His eyes bounced back and forth between you both. "'Cause he's single," he added after a beat, making both you and Joel blush.

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel muttered under his breath, and you forced out a polite laugh before switching gears.

"Alright, let's see," you said, gently lifting his arm and peeling back the sleeve of his flannel. You made a face and Joel tensed.

"What is it?"

"I wish I had better news," you sighed, locking eyes with him. "I'm gonna have to cut the sleeve off this shirt," you said solemnly.

His face broke out into a huge smile, one that reached his beautiful brown eyes and creased his tanned skin, and you giggled before reaching for the scissors.

"It's alright, darlin'," he said, still smiling as you began to cut through the fabric, "ain't got no fashion sense, anyway."

"'Cause he's single," Tommy said again from across the room. Joel swiveled his head and mouthed something angrily in his direction but you just grinned and stayed focused, pulling the sleeve away and making sure not to brush up against his wound.

"Okay, Joel, how are you around needles?" you asked, turning your back to him and blocking his view while you prepped a syringe with local anesthetic. "Do I need to call someone in here to catch you if you faint?"

He scoffed. "Hell no, I'll be -" you turned around with the needle in your hand and he gulped, "-fine."

You eyed him carefully. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and looked up at the ceiling, so you decided to just make it as fast as possible. Cleaning the skin with some alcohol, you slid the needle into his arm near the laceration and injected the medicine. After, you pressed a piece of cotton against the injection site and hid the needle behind you on the tray.

"All done, you did great," you said, and he looked at you in surprise.

"That's it? Hardly felt a thing."

You smiled and shrugged. "I've been doing this a while," you said. You always loved when patients commented on how gentle you were. It made you feel proud and good at your rather thankless job.

"Yeah? How long?" he asked, watching as you pulled out another vial of medicine.

"Almost five years," you told him, filling another syringe and wiping an alcohol pad on his inner elbow.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's for the pain," you said, "it's mild but you might feel a little out of it for a couple hours. It will help you relax so the doctor can stitch you up."

He nodded and you quickly slipped the needle in and out, just like before.

"Okay, all done with needles, I promise," you told him, disposing of them both in a red sharps container bolted to the wall by the sink.

"Whoa," Joel said softly after a minute, and you looked up at him then smiled when you saw that familiar, spaced out look in his eyes.

"Feeling it?" you asked, and he slowly nodded.

"Reckon I am."

"That's good. Just try to relax, the doctor will be back soon," you said, turning your attention to the computer cart. You were typing in your notes and scanning the vials of medicine to log into Joel's chart when Tommy's phone rang.

"It's Maria, probably wonderin' what the hell's goin' on," Tommy told Joel as he stood up and headed for the door. "I'll be right back," he said right before you heard him answer the phone and walk out into the hallway for some privacy.

Joel's head rolled to the side and he gazed over at you, smiling like a fool at the way your eyebrows pinched together as you focused on whatever you were typing.

"You're real good at this," he mumbled. You glanced at him, taking a break from the computer, and smiled.

"Thank you."

"How long you been doin' this?"

You stifled your laughter and answered the question again. "Almost five years."

He nodded, completely unaware. His eyes looked glazed over and he gave you a lazy smile. "You're real pretty."

Even though you knew it was the drugs talking, your heart still skipped a beat and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"You must be feeling better, huh?" you joked, wrapping a blood pressure sleeve around his arm. He lightly took your wrist in his hand, making you pause and catch his eye. He looked so earnest and sincere that you almost believed him when he said, "it ain't the drugs. I mean it. Can't keep my eyes off you, darlin'."

Your mouth suddenly felt dry as the two of you silently assessed the other. You searched his face but all you could find was a raw vulnerability while he waited for you to say something. And you really wanted to be honest, but you knew it was unprofessional and you had no idea what was even allowed but you had to assume your job would be at risk if you said what you really wanted to say.

Fortunately, you didn't have to say anything at all because Dr. Fisher chose that moment to return, breezing into the room with his white coat fluttering behind him.

"How're you feeling, Joel?" he asked from the sink as he washed his hands. You stepped back and focused on the computer screen, still feeling the heat of Joel's gaze on your face as you typed.

"Much better," he said, slowly dragging his eyes away from you. Tommy reentered the room, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and dodging Dr. Fisher as he turned around to face Joel.

"That's good. Let's get you patched up and back home, how's that sound?" he said, and you abandoned the computer to stand at his side, your eyes cast down as you awaited the doctor's instructions.

Dr. Fisher worked quickly and had Joel's laceration closed up in under thirty minutes, the whole time checking in with him to make sure he didn't feel anything. You caught Joel staring at you more than once during the procedure and you had to bite back a grin, but each time he noticed and he smiled that same dazzling smile that reached his eyes.

Once the stitches were done, Joel - but mostly Tommy - listened to Dr. Fisher's instructions on how to keep it dry and clean and to follow up with his own practitioner the next business day to schedule an appointment. Then he left, bidding the brothers a good night after he explained you would wrap up the wound and process his discharge papers.

You were very gentle as you wrapped his arm, quietly asking if it was too tight or if anything hurt. He would shake his head and continue to just gaze adoringly at you while you worked, completely unbothered by his brother just a few feet away witnessing his utter captivation.

"Okay, Joel. Let's get you out of here," you sighed, turning back to the computer cart.

"Already?" he asked, and you had to hold back your laugh at the bewildered look on his face.

"It's a slow night, we were able to get you in and out much quicker than normal," you explained, hitting the print button on the computer screen.

"Well, but..." he trailed off, looking back and forth between you and Tommy as he struggled to find the right thing to say. "I'm single!" he practically shouted when you gave him a pen to sign his papers. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Tommy laughed from his chair in the corner of the room.

"I know, your brother mentioned it a couple times," you replied as your face grew hot once again. "Um, can you just sign here, and-"

"Are you single?" he asked, cutting you off. You looked up from the papers to find his beautiful brown eyes all wide and hopeful, completely ignoring the clipboard in front of him.

"Yes," you finally answered, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Great!" he exclaimed, throwing his good arm up in the air with a huge grin. Tommy cleared his throat and stood up.

"I think what he's tryin' to do is ask for your number," he said. Joel nodded, not even sparing a glance in his brother's direction.

"Yeah, sorry," Joel said sheepishly, then he rubbed his face like he could make the brain fog dissipate. "Can I get your number? I'd love to take you out sometime."

Your heart was pounding in your chest now from excitement. You bit your lip and glanced over your shoulder at the open door before turning back to Joel.

"I don't know, I might get in trouble..." you began, and he quickly sat up in bed.

"I won't tell anyone," Joel said, and his voice was so serious that you couldn't help but laugh. Tommy grinned and pulled out his wallet.

"How 'bout this. What if I left Joel's business card, in case you ever needed a contractor?" Tommy offered, holding out the card between two fingers. You gingerly accepted and briefly glanced down at it. "That's his work number but this one is his cell," Tommy continued, pointing to each number respectively, "you're better off gettin' ahold of him on that one. Y'know, for any projects you might need done."

Joel gave Tommy the most grateful look. "I love you, Tommy."

"Alright, that's enough. I oughta get you back home," Tommy said with a crooked grin. You laughed and pocketed Joel's card, standing by in case he needed any assistance getting up. But before Joel and Tommy exited the room, Joel turned to you and reached out for your hand. You hesitated for a moment before stretching out your arm and allowing his thick fingers to wrap themselves around your hand.

"Thank you for saving my life," he told you, his tone deathly serious. You fought back a smile and instead gave him a firm nod.

"You're very welcome, Joel."

His business card stayed folded up in your scrubs pocket for a week, your fingers occasionally brushing up against it like a talisman as you worked.

You never told Lily about that night but you did try to sneakily look into the legality of potentially dating a former patient, but you got too nervous someone would see over your shoulder and didn't get very far.

One day, a fellow nurse who had been working at the hospital for nearly fifteen years made a comment about a patient saying something suggestive to a male doctor and she thought the doctor in question didn't handle it properly.

"What do you mean?"

"He laughed and said something along the lines of I'm too old for you," she had scoffed. "He should have shut it down right away. If the wrong person heard it, he could get into serious trouble."

That was all you needed to hear to put you off from the idea.

That evening, you took Joel's business card out of your pocket and threw it in the trash, then went to take a shower. But afterwards, when you had poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate the start of three days in a row off from work, you found yourself hovering over the garbage and staring at the folded up piece of paper, sitting right on top of a napkin.

With a sigh, you plucked it out of the garbage and stuck it to your fridge, then forced yourself to leave the room.

There was nothing wrong with keeping the card if you weren't going to call. Right?

It pained you to go so close to the hospital on one of your well deserved days off, but you couldn't resist the chocolate croissants sold at a café around the corner. They were baked fresh daily and always served warm and after a grueling four days in a row at work, you felt you deserved a treat. So that was how you found yourself waiting at the counter for your usual order, surrounded by various professionals hurrying to grab their coffees before chaining themselves to a desk for the remainder of the day. It was busy, but the barista who usually took care of you made sure to prioritize your order, shooting you a quick wink before she slid your croissant and coffee across the counter. You mouthed thank you and turned to leave, bobbing and weaving through the crowd of people waiting for their drinks.

When you stepped outside, out of habit you glanced towards the hospital, then froze. You blinked a few times, your coffee halfway to your lips as you stared at the familiar looking man pacing back and forth on the sidewalk with his head angled toward the ground. You began to walk in his direction, squinting against the sun and wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you, but it really was him.

"Joel?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Is everything okay? Did something happen?" you asked, your eyes drifting around to see if he was with anybody.

"Huh?" he asked, then immediately shook his head, "yes, I mean... no, everythin's fine." He nervously jammed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. "I, uh, came to see you, actually," he said, glancing down at your clothes, noticing you weren't in your scrubs. "Are you workin'?"

You looked down at your jeans before meeting his gaze again. "No, I have the day off, I was just getting coffee," you jutted your thumb over your shoulder, back towards the café, and you realized how bizarre the conversation was so far. "Why are you here to see me?"

He gave you a nervous smile and looked away, watching as an ambulance veered noisily into the parking lot. "I came to apologize. 'Bout the other week. Tommy told me what I said and I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Wasn't my intention, I guess it was all the meds." He finally dragged his eyes back to you and watched as something flickered across your face.

"Oh," you managed to squeak out. Even though you assumed as much, it still stung to hear he didn't mean what he said. "It's fine. It didn't make me uncomfortable. It comes with the territory," you told him with a soft laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. He nodded and looked behind you, trying to think of something else to say but when the silence became too much, you took a step back.

"I should go, but it was nice to see you. I'm glad the arm-"

"Wait - uh," he scratched his beard and took a deep breath. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable, why didn't you call?"

You blinked rapidly and thought about it for a moment before frowning.

"I thought you said it was the drugs talking?" you countered, avoiding his question with one of your own.

"I lied."

"You lied?" you repeated, raising your eyebrows. He nodded.

"More like I panicked," he added, then raked his fingers through his hair with a dry laugh. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm terrible at this, ain't I?"

You giggled and his face brightened at the sound.

"A little, but it's okay. It's cute," you told him, feeling your cheeks warm at your own admission. He grinned.

"Alright, then why didn't you call?" he asked again.

"I panicked," you replied, then after a pause, the both of you burst out laughing at exactly the same time.

"Goddamn, reckon we don't stand a chance, do we?" Joel said, tilting his head to the side, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling playfully.

"Well, I don't know about that. Why don't we find out?"

He immediately pulled out his phone.

"It's the least we could do. Y'know. For research."

"Research, huh?" but you couldn't keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

"Yeah. Can two panicky individuals who can't seem to properly flirt their way out of a paper bag make it work?"

"Sounds like a tagline for a terrible book," you teased while simultaneously snatching his phone out of his hand and typing your number into a new text. "How could I resist?"

"I promise this is where the cheesiness ends," he chuckled, pocketing his phone.

"Oh, come on. Where's the fun in that?"

Joel thought about it for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Careful what you wish for, little lady, or else we'll be havin' a picnic in the park and watchin' the sunset for our first date."

You laughed heartily at that. "Pulling out all the cheesy stops?"

"Absolutely," Joel winked, making your heart flutter.

"Alright then. Do your worst," you said, a stupid grin still plastered across your face as you took a step back the way you came.

"I'm plannin' it all out already," he said, tapping the side of his head. You giggled and gave him a little wave goodbye before turning around and heading towards home.

Joel didn't waste any time.

He had texted you within an hour with just a link and nothing else. You clicked it and immediately grinned when a website to a paint and sip place in downtown Austin opened up.

You: starting off strong - Painting with a Twist?

Joel: Get it? A twist? Because they serve alcohol there.

You laughed out loud alone in your living room. You thought the meds made him funny but you were delighted to discover he was still just as funny all on his own.

You: I got it, thanks. Very cheesy :)

Joel: So when can I take you? I want to see you paint the next greatest masterpiece.

You: I'm off the next two days and then I work the following four

Joel: You feel up for it tomorrow night? Or is that too soon?

You: tomorrow is great!

Joel: Looking forward to it, little lady.

To keep up with the cheesy theme, Joel picked you up the next evening with a singular red rose, which he had hidden behind his back so he could reveal it to you with a flourish, immediately making you laugh. He offered his arm as he led you down the driveway to his truck while commenting something about the weather but you weren't entirely certain because you couldn't stop staring at his hair, which was slicked back a bit since the last time you saw him and the longer you stared, you began to think he might have trimmed his beard, as well. You bit back your smile at the endearing effort he was putting into your date while trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that still wondered if this was going to get you in trouble at work.

When you arrived at the painting studio, you quickly realized the two of you were the youngest ones there, and not only that but Joel was the only man there. You stifled your laughter as you grabbed a couple drinks and picked your seats. Once behind the safety of your easels, you cupped your hand over your mouth and giggled into your palm. Joel chuckled and ducked down so nobody would overhear him.

"Am I allowed to be here?"

You began to laugh even harder, drawing the attention from some of the older women. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes and you shook your head.

"I don't know!" you wheezed when you finally got ahold of yourself. You took a deep breath and wiped your eye. "You couldn't have planned this any better." He laughed and rubbed his palm over his mouth when he began to get looks.

The painting that evening was a bouquet of white hydrangeas in a wide vase. Simple enough, or so you both thought. It became quickly apparent that Joel didn't have a creative bone in his body, and while you thought you weren't much better, when you glanced over at his and noticed his vase and flowers were beginning to take on a decidedly more phallic shape, you completely lost it.

He grinned when you had to drop your paintbrush so you could clutch your stomach while you doubled over, doing your best to keep as quiet as possible, but you were failing miserably. A lady nearby cleared her throat to convey her irritation so you slid down from your stool and told Joel you would be right back, then disappeared into the bathroom to collect yourself. By the time you emerged, the teacher who was leading the class had jumped in to try and help Joel create more distinguishable flowers, but it appeared to be a lost cause.

Once the class was over, the teacher went around to take pictures of everyone holding up their paintings with the people they came with that evening. When she got to you, Joel wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you close. Right before she took the picture, you leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to flush and his smile to reach his eyes.

When he dropped you off at home, he walked you to the door.

"So I was thinkin' for our second date we can either do bowling or trivia night," he said with a little smile. You cocked your head to the side as you thought about it.

"Both are excellent options. You can tell a lot about somebody by the way they handle winning and losing," you mused. He grinned and leaned his shoulder against your doorframe as he gazed down at you, waiting for you to decide. "Let's do bowling," you finally said. He gave a firm nod and straightened up.

"Bowling it is."

"After tomorrow, I work four nights in a row," you reminded him.

He shrugged. "So let's do it tomorrow."

"Really?" you asked, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Are you sure? What about your daughter?"

"I'm sure Tommy can watch her. And even if he can't, she's old enough now to stay on her own for a few hours."

You nodded and glanced down at your hands, clutching your painting at your side.

"What does she think about you dating?" you asked nervously, chewing on the inside of your cheek and glancing back up at him.

"She's all for it. She's fourteen now, practically kicks me outta the house every chance she gets," he said with a chuckle.

You nodded again and tried to sound casual when you asked, "are you seeing anybody else, or..." You trailed off as you felt your face warm up, feeling slightly vulnerable, but he quickly put your mind at ease. He stepped forward and pinched your chin between his fingers, making you look up at him through your eyelashes.

"No," he said softly, "are you?"

You shook your head slightly, not wanting to lose his touch just yet. "No."

He smiled. "Good."

He tilted your face up a bit more then swooped down to press a gentle kiss against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine even though it was rather innocent.

"I'll see you tomorrow, little lady," he murmured before dropping his hand from your chin and taking a step back. You bit your lip and smiled.

"Can't wait."

While Joel wasn't a very good painter, he turned out to be a rather good bowler. Better than you, at least, which wasn't saying much. So after a couple beers, you flirtatiously asked him to help you with your form, to which he eagerly agreed. He walked you up to the lane and stood behind you, squaring your shoulders and planting your feet just so while the bowling ball dangled at your side with a stupid grin on your face.

"Alright, now you're gonna wanna swing this leg back," he said, tucking his chin into your shoulder and reaching down to tap the front of your thigh. You giggled as his beard tickled your skin, which just caused him to do it even more. You laughed harder and tried to squirm away but he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you back against him, nuzzling into your neck enthusiastically. You twisted your head towards him, trying to protect your neck, but it was no use, so instead you pressed your lips against his, finally stopping his assault. Both of you were well aware of the public setting, surrounded by families, so you fought the urge to deepen the kiss but you did linger a little longer than was necessary before breaking away with a sigh. He smiled down at you, his cheeks a little pink, either from the alcohol or the public display of affection.

"I like you," he said earnestly.

"I like you, too," you whispered, watching the way his eyes sparkled. Even if it was only two dates, you could tell the connection you had was strong. You had to make it your mission to figure out the policy at work before things went any further.

"Hey, Lily," you said the next day, getting the other nurse's attention.

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever dated anyone from here?" you asked as quietly as you could. She grinned and leaned against the counter.

"Oh, yeah. A few," she said mischievously before glancing around and leaning forward. "I went on a few dates with Dr. Adams last year. When I first started, I was hanging out with Richie, the pharmacist downstairs, but I swear when I found out he was married I broke it off. I felt bad about that one," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "Oh! Then there was that one resident who worked here for a few months... Mike? He was tall with brown hair and had that tattoo-"

"No, I mean like, patients?" you tried again, and she pursed her lips.

"I've had a few ask me out but I never took them up on it. Why?"

"No reason," you said quickly, "but if you were interested, could you? Like, would we get fired or get our license revoked or something?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Absolutely not. Once a patient is discharged, it doesn't matter. If we worked in a doctor's office and it was a regular patient, that would probably be a different story, but we see so many people in the ER it's impossible to enforce something like that."

You breathed a huge sigh of relief and smiled. "That's great."

She grinned and raised an eyebrow. "So are you gonna spill or what?"

"Me?" you squeaked, shaking your head innocently but Lily saw right through you.

"Who are you seeing?" she pressed, smacking her gum between her teeth. You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the heat from reaching your cheeks.

"Remember that guy last week? The fox with the arm laceration in 504?"

Lily gasped. "Shut the fuck up!"

You smirked and nodded. "We've just been on two dates, nothing serious, but before I continued to see him I wanted to make sure I wouldn't get in trouble."

"I'm so jealous!" she groaned, stomping her feet dramatically. You laughed and turned back to your computer. You began to get back to the chart in front of you but she pulled up a chair and got a little closer so nobody would overhear. "How is he in bed?"

You gave her a look. "We haven't slept together. Did you not hear me say we've only been on two dates?"

She scoffed and tossed her hair behind her shoulder. "That doesn't mean anything. If I went on two dates with a man like that, I wouldn't waste any time climbing him like a tree."

You both dissolved into a fit of giggles before the phone rang, warning you to get an exam room ready for a broken arm.

Waiting four days to see Joel again was a lot harder than you expected, but lucky for you, on your last day, Joel surprised you at work with a coffee and chocolate croissant from the café you liked.

"You remembered!" you exclaimed when you opened the bag. He shrugged sheepishly but you could tell he was pleased with your reaction.

"'Course I remembered," he said, glancing around when Lily walked into the waiting room to call back a patient. Her eyes locked on the two of you and she gave you an exaggerated wink before leading an elderly man to the back. Joel grinned and looked at you.

"Friend of yours?"

"Unfortunately," you said sarcastically, making him smile. You glanced down at your watch and made a face. "I'm so sorry, I gotta get going but this was so sweet of you," you said, motioning towards your coffee and pastry.

"I just really wanted to see you again," he admitted, "it was a completely selfish move."

You giggled. "Well, thank you for the selfish coffee and treat."

"You're welcome. Still on for tomorrow night?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Picnic and stargazing. You're really checking things off that cheesy date list," you said with a laugh.

"You asked for it, don't you forget now," he replied before leaning in and giving you a quick kiss.

After he left, you made your way back to the nurse's station so you could deposit your goodies and pull up the next chart.

"Third date tomorrow?" Lily asked, rounding the desk. You nodded.

"Yep," you answered distractedly, reading the chart of a young boy with a minor head injury from a fall.

"You know what typically happens on the third date?"

You felt your skin heat up at the insinuation. "I'm going to regret telling you about him, aren't I?"

"Sure are. That was so close to being me, I'll never get over it."

You laughed and shook your head, leaving her question unanswered as you made your way back to the waiting room.

As it turned out, a picnic and stargazing was incredibly romantic. Joel packed a simple meal: some cold pasta in olive oil, a light salad and some fruit. He had found a spot off a highway that overlooked downtown Austin, which was by far the cheesiest part of the date.

"Did you used to take girls here back in high school or something?" you teased as you sat on the hood of his truck, leaning against the windshield so you could see the stars.

"Me? Never. I was very respectable in high school. Never got into trouble, never skipped class and definitely never took the captain of the cheerleading squad up here after prom," he said with a grin. You giggled and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"You're trouble."

"Yeah, but you like it," he said, turning his head to the side so he could look at you. You tried to give him a stern look but you weren't selling it in the slightest.

"Okay, maybe I do," you admitted.

He smiled and laced his fingers together with yours, dragging his thumb over your knuckles for a minute, staring at your entwined hands while you continued to gaze upwards, the stars twinkling in the nearly clear, black sky.

"Can I tell you somethin' without you thinkin' I'm crazy?"

You rolled your head to look at him, your first instinct to tease him but his soft tone made you stop. "Sure."

"I keep waitin' to wake up or the other shoe to drop or whatever," he said, his gaze studying your face. "You just seem too good to be true," he added with a little grin.

"That's funny, I could say the same about you," you told him, but he shook his head.

"Nah, I mean it. How don't you already got a boyfriend?"

You sighed and looked back up at the sky. "I don't know. It's always been a little tough with my work schedule. I work so many overnights and it's hard for guys to understand that and work around it. Eventually things just... die off because I never get a chance to spend any real time with anyone."

He frowned and inched a little closer. "Their loss," he said. You turned to smile at him.

"You're not like that, though."

He shrugged. "I get it. I'm no stranger to havin' a busy schedule. I'm always haulin' Sarah 'round town to soccer games or friends' houses or after school activities. Don't bother me none."

You squeezed his hand affectionately before impulsively leaning over and pressing your lips against his. You could feel his surprise but he quickly reacted and brought a hand up to cup your face. He licked at the seam of your lips and you smiled before opening your mouth a fraction, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

The whole drive back to your place had you thinking about Lily's comment from the day before, and the closer and closer you got to home, the more nervous you felt.

When he walked you up to your door and kissed you goodnight, you reached up to hold the back of his neck, keeping him close. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and you let out a small moan. He grabbed your hip and began kissing you harder, pushing you up against your door and sliding his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, stroking your skin there. You tipped your head back, breaking the kiss, both of you panting for air.

"Do you want to come inside?" you asked nervously. His gaze darkened and he licked his lips, but then you saw a tortured look flicker across his face.

"I can't," he said, sounding almost like it pained him to utter the words. "I can't leave Sarah alone overnight," he explained, taking a step back and rubbing his palms over his face. He dropped them to the side and you quickly blinked the disappointment from your eyes.

"It's okay, I understand," you told him, then reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"I promise, I really wanna come inside," he told you.

"I know," you said, "maybe next time."

He chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Yeah, next time."

But it wouldn't be the next time. Or the time after that. Understandably so, Joel was waiting for a night where Sarah was at a sleepover to coincide with one of your free nights, explaining that he felt uncomfortable letting her know he wouldn't be coming home.

"Does she know about us?" you asked him one night.

"'Course she does. But it's just... awkward. At her age, she can read between the lines, y'know?"

"I get it," you had told him, trying to imagine what it would be like for you if at fourteen, your dad had essentially announced he wouldn't be home that night because he was going to get laid.

It made sense, but it didn't stop both of you from practically swallowing each other whole every chance you got, all your pent up sexual tension bubbling just under the surface with every glance and touch.

And finally, nearly two months into seeing each other, the stars aligned. Sarah was going on a school field trip to The Alamo, which coincidentally was scheduled on one of your rare weekends off.

Joel had every intention of taking you out to dinner and a movie, but when you opened the door and locked eyes, suddenly take out and a shitty movie on TV sounded much better.

You practically dragged him to your bedroom while shedding your clothes as quickly as you could, desperation rolling off both of you in waves as you fell into bed.

"Beautiful girl," Joel mumbled against your throat, sweat coating your skin as your writhed underneath him, his thick length slowly dragging in and out, making sure you felt every inch of him. "Wanted this for so long," he continued, then groaned when you clenched around him. "Fuck, you're so wet, baby," he whispered when your slick began to spread over his thighs.

"Only for you," you managed to say, too focused on how your body thrummed with anticipation as you got closer and closer to your release.

"Yeah, that's right," he growled, nipping at your earlobe. "All for me."

When you came, you whimpered his name into his shoulder, clutching onto him as the heat of your orgasm spread through every vein, reaching every inch of you. He followed shortly behind with a guttural moan muffled by his mouth pressing feverishly against yours, then you felt his muscles relax under your fingertips and his body sag. You pulled him down and he nuzzled against your throat as he fought for air, still nestled deep between your legs.

Neither of you felt much like leaving the bed, so you didn't. You ordered Chinese food takeout and watched some action movie you didn't really care for but it didn't matter because it primarily served as background noise while you pretended to fight over shrimp lo mein and shared an egg roll, the cartons spread out over your nightstands and your plates balancing in your hands.

You fell asleep before the movie ended but when you woke the next morning, tucked safely into Joel's side, the cartons of food were gone and the TV was off. You pressed a little kiss against his chest, silently thanking him for taking care of everything while you slept, but the movement made him stir. He sleepily opened his eyes, then a lazy smile spread across his face when he saw you already looking up at him.

"Mornin', little lady," he said, voice all rough and gravelly. You felt a pull in your lower stomach at the sound.

"Morning," you mumbled, pressing another kiss in the same spot.

Joel sighed and wrapped both arms around you, tugging you even closer and kissing the top of your head.

"I want you to meet Sarah."

He felt your muscles tense under his hands and then you slowly tipped your chin up to look him in the eye.

"Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Only if you wanna," he said quickly, but you shook your head and grinned.

"Y-yeah, I would love to, of course," you told him.

He planted a kiss on your lips, both your mouths curving into smiles.

"Good. Then it's settled. My two best girls are gonna meet," he said, sliding out from under the sheets to stand. You bit your lip, adoring the way he referred to you as one of his girls. "She's gonna love you. How 'bout a baseball game or the fair?" he offered, slipping his boxers on.

"Both sound great," you said dreamily, watching him saunter out of your bedroom. And as you ate breakfast across your kitchen table, sharing little smiles over eggs and toast, you couldn't help but feel hopeful and excited for what your future held together.

[bunnygirllover45]

— The shape of love. ﹑◌﹒WARNINGS﹕Kidnapping, implied punishment, ugly jealousy, some descriptions of body harm ( just wounds or bruises, and it doesn't get too graphic), lots, and lots of deranged ramblings, it gets very dark at times. This is narrated from the POV of the Yandere, you can read this as a 'letter' of sorts.

♱ ✧ ⤷ Word count: 997 (felt lazy and I didn't reach 1k lmao.)

There you go again, looking at me with the same eyes as always.

I don’t know how many times I’ve repeated moments like this inside my head since the last time. It's been a while since I've been this close to you.

The trembling of your body lets me know that your excitement is as big as mine, is your body perhaps unable to contain all those bubbling feelings?

I grab your legs, my hands softly pressing against the flesh, feeling it under mine —so soft and delicate, for a moment I thought that maybe if I pushed my fingers inside of it I could spread it like a cloud made of cotton— when I pressed I could fee the shape of your bones underneath just a little, the sensation made my own body tremble.

It’s a shame you’re still shy to my touch, even if it’s something simple like a small caress or a kiss on the cheek you’re always trying to push away from me, I would love if you to cling onto me more when I do it or have you begging silently to do something more. I know you wouldn’t tell me with words, you’re not good with them.

Now that I think about it, I’ve never heard you say my name since I brought you here, no?

I should tell you what it is now so you could say it between sighs and I could engrave the sound on the back of my brain forever — those sweet sounds could captivate me forever.

I wonder if you’d say my name with a kind voice, or you’ll just talk to me with the same indifference and fear that’s so characteristic of you. I do admit that is kind of endearing, wild animals were always more interesting than domesticated ones thanks to their hostility, it makes me want to approach them, stick my hand, and see if they’ll bite me, or would just run away and hide in a corner.

I wouldn’t mind if you bit me, I would love to bite you as well in fact, I would wear that mark proudly and I would make sure you do it as well, we could bite our fingers and pretend the marks are our wedding rings, a testament of our love engraved on our skin.

Hahaha — I’m rambling again, please don’t get nervous, you know I usually get lost in my thoughts when I’m here with you, especially when my hands are idly dragging across your skin  — nails and all — leaving red marks behind.

I’m just tracing small invisible circles on your skin and you’re already getting goosebumps, I think that when I touch you delicately like this is when you fear it the most, right? I’m always keeping the momentum, you’ll never know when I can dig my nails into your skin or grab you and never let go.

I press a simple kiss on the skin of your heel, dragging my lips across the length of your leg, what a celestial feeling, there’s nothing in this world that could compare to this mere sensation. You’re trembling again, that makes me smile.

Sometimes when night falls and there are no more thoughts left to think inside my head my mind begins to wander off the path, usually it doesn’t lead me anywhere in particular, but since some time ago I’ve had this constant thought; there are other  —people— that had touched you like this before?

I would like to think that I’m the only one who had the privilege to enjoy all of you, that no other mark of fingers or teeth that doesn’t have the shape of mine has been on your skin.

Thinking like that makes sleeping easier for me.

I’m thankful that right now you can’t speak to me, because if I made you that question and you responded to me that yes, other people had marked you like I did, I think I would had the impulse to tear apart each part of you that has been tainted by them.

Not because I hate you, on the contrary, I just think I couldn’t live with the idea. That you belonged to someone else even if it was just for a moment, what am I saying? I don’t even like the idea of you belonging to yourself.

But if I were to do that, I think I’d like to go to extremes no other people could; kiss your open wounds or taste your blood, that would be romantic, don’t you think?

I press my face against your thighs while I keep dragging my nails up and down your legs, I sigh again, tilting my head slightly to take a better look at you, I can see myself reflected in your own eyes now, how romantic, just like in the movies you like to watch.

I like the me I see in your eyes, I like the idea that it belongs to you alone, the idea of you keeping each small expression I make just for you, each blink would be like a small photograph you take of me and keep inside your head, aaaalll yours.

My mother used to tell me that love is only true if you can see it reflected in the one you love,

From your red cheeks — was I too rough last night?

Your bruised knees — If you would just learn how to sit properly at the table already, it would make our meals more easy.

Your beautiful hands — You should stop trying to take off your handcuffs.

Your shining eyes — Is that a small tear I see? Maybe I should reach it and lick it, I wouldn’t like to go to waste.

Yes, I think for the first time something she said made sense, now that I took a better look at you, I don’t think there’s any better proof of this —

You’re the truest, most beautiful form of ‘love’.