#need to do anything but sit fighting to keep my eyes open

[jinwoosbabyboo]

I Can't Sit Still

The lads men noticing that you’re fighting yourself to just sit still. [Requested by: luxis-journal]

Zayne

Zayne was being awarded tonight and all you needed to do was say a few hellos and sit pretty for the night. Why did your anxiety jitters have to kick in now? Those few hellos had turned into half an hour small talks with one too many people. Zayne was quite the hot topic amongst the healthcare community; it almost seemed like he was a celebrity. You being the beautiful woman on his arm it was only natural that people were curious about you as well. The night seemed to drag on as the mingling continued. Finally when everyone was seated at their respective tables for the showcase you thought this would help you relax. However the damage had already been done.

Your leg bounced furiously under the table while your fingers moved your silverware aimlessly. “Are you alright my love?” Zayne whispered in your ear pulling you back to reality. “I’m fine why?” You responded snapping your spine straight. You felt him place a hand on your thigh calming your ever bouncing leg. His palm was warm and you could feel your self relaxing into his touch. “You’ve been eerily quiet and you can’t seem to sit still” Zayne studied your face as you glanced over your shoulder at the many people in the room. “I'm not good in social settings” You sighed “It gives me anxiety as a matter of fact I think I may be sweating my deodorant off right now” You wrung your hands as your eyes continued to ping pong around the room.

Your gaze landed back on Zayne who couldn’t help, but look at you with concern ”If you’d like to leave I can have them send my award to the hospital” That was just like him willing you drop everything for you, but you couldn’t let him do that. “This is a big night for you I'll be fine Dr. Zayne” You smiled and kissed his cheek.

You were not fine.

Which is why Zayne did not stop worrying about you. The second he was called to receive his award, he gave a brief thank you speech and next thing you knew his fingers were intertwined with yours and you were quietly slipping out the room without a single goodbye or explanation.

He held the car door open as you folded yourself into the seat. You watched him circle the car and waste no time getting in and pulling out of the parking lot. “Zayne you didn’t have to do that we could have at least stayed for dinner” You tried to talk some sense into him as he glanced down and placed his hand on your thigh. “Look at that it’s no longer bouncing”

Rafayel

Attending these art exhibits with Rafayel was nothing new except tonight you two had to travel outside of the country for this one. Rafayel acted as a translator for you since he was fluent in many languages, but it did nothing to calm the rising anxiety in you. With the language barrier and the unfamiliar environment your anxiety was reaching its peak. You'd gone deathly quiet after an hour and found yourself hanging onto Rafayels arm while subtly hiding behind him.

You mindlessly thrummed your fingers on your leg and constantly fought the urge to keep adjusting your dress and rubbing your neck. You were about as slick as sandpaper though of course Rafayel noticed your fidgeting immediately.

“What's wrong?” He questioned, cupping your face. “This is a lot” You whispered, gesturing to the crowd. He scanned your face for anything else that you might be hiding. “Then let’s leave” He didn’t give you a chance to object before he was puling you by the wrist towards the nearest exit.

By the time you reached the street Rafayels’ driver was already there waiting. He promptly guided you into the car and climbed in behind you. “Raf you have got to stop disappearing during your own exhibits” You said, pushing his shoulder when he started chuckling to himself. “Those snobs aren’t worried about me as a person they’re more occupied with who can buy my work for the highest price”

“Still you didn’t have to leave just because I can’t sit still” You pouted. Rafayel leaned in close almost touching his nose to yours “You keep me sane through these if you’re uncomfortable then I’m uncomfortable”

Xavier

Xavier loved to read and eat hotpot with you and since today was chilly it was the perfect weather to stay in and do just that. The plan was to stop in Barnes & Noble, buy a few books and head back home quick and easy. Too bad you ran into a group of people you know and you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself for any kind of small talk.

Xavier noticed you constantly pulling on your sleeves and wringing you hands. He could tell you were hanging on by a thread trying to be nice and keep the conversation going.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but I'm not feeling well baby can we go home?” Xavier calmly grabbed your hand and stared deep into your eyes hoping he did the right thing. A subtle smile curved on your lips as a silent thank you for getting you out of this conversation. “My bad Xav let’s get you home” You quickly dismiss yourself from the conversation, grabbed your books and headed home. A wave of relief washed over you when you slumped against the passanger seat.

“Thank you so much I was about to start speaking nonsense if that conversation went on any longer” You kissed Xaviers cheek making him blush. “Im glad I could help” He muttered while rubbing his neck. He’s so cute when he’s flustered.

Sylus

Sylus couldn’t stand seeing those puppy dog eyes you gave him whenever he had to leave for something. Your tactic of keeping him occupied in bed wasn’t working either apparently this meeting he needed to get to couldn’t be rescheduled. So here you were sitting at the head of a long table with all eyes on you and Sylus.

Why did he have to sit you on his lap?

Many men brought different jewels and business prospects to Sylus as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. As one of the men in the room rambled on about …. whatever the fuck …. you mindlessly shook your foot and constantly adjusted on his lap only for him to move you back to your original position. Sylus leaned in to whisper in your ear after yet again readjusting you on his lap. “Sweetie I can’t have you sitting at that angle you're crushing my balls” You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Here you thought he was just trying to whisper sweet nothings in your ear like the smooth talker he is. “You’re shaking like a puppy in the rain what's the matter, tell me”

You drop your head to stare at your hands as you whispered “I don’t like how much attention is on me” Sylus nods as he takes in your words. “Can you sit still for an hour or would you like to leave?” You knew how important this meeting was for Onychinus so you tried to suck it up and stay still.

That just made it worse.

Sylus noticed your movements becoming more frequent and jerky. “Let’s go” He said under his breath. He stood abruptly from his seat cradling you in his arms. He ordered Luke & Kieran to stand in for him as he disappeared from the room with you. “Im so sorry I can’t control it” You hid your face in his chest feeling like you ruined his entire meeting. “No worries Princess I saw all I needed to see and I wasn't impressed” He readjusted to hold you a little higher. “Besides your anxiety seems to be winning this internal battle”

Your head snapped up at his accusations “I don’t-” He cut you off with a stern look “Don’t lie”

You bury your face in his chest again “Don’t judge me” Your words were muffled. “I’m not judging you” You looked up to find him staring down at you with a tender gaze. “Let’s get you back in bed”

[revelboo]

First part of my blokees shipment is in the country, u really are a master planner of propaganda 😂

I'll showcase what I scored if anything fun comes up

Nice! They’re just so little and cute

It Had To Be You Pt 11

TFO Megatron x Reader

• Venting softly as he notices your unfinished food, he grits his denta. This again? What exactly do you hope to accomplish by refusing to eat? Mass shifting, he bends to pick up the full tray and stalks your way, optics narrowing as you tense like you’re considering bolting. “Don’t you dare,” he growls and your eyes narrow in answer. Lunging to hook an arm around your middle as you scramble to your feet to run anyway. He’d almost swear you enjoy this game, struggling angrily against his grip as he sits heavily with you across his lap. “Stop acting like a sparkling.”

• “I’m not hungry,” you snap, trying to kick the tray out of his other hand as he pins you against him, a palm splayed against your belly, servos flexing on you. Fighting even though you know what’s coming. Feeling it buzz through you to lift the fine hair at the your nape when he snarls. You’re pretty sure he’s swearing at you in Cybertronian as he drops the tray with a clatter and pins you more firmly against his chassis, his chin resting on top of your head and all the fight just drains out of you as he holds you, his arms curling around you like a lover would. Your body and mind at odds with each other. One whispering that this is where you belong, the other screaming. “I’m not hungry,” you repeat, the words sounding sullen even to your own ears. You’re just so tired of hating him and needing him. It’s like you’re coming apart day by day fighting him and yourself.

• “You’ll eat anyway,” he growls, spark constricting as you just lay against him, hating that it’s like this. That you’re like this even as he understands why. Reaching to tug the tray closer, he picks up a strip of cooked meat and offers it to you, holding it an inch from your lips as you tense against him. “I’ll hold you down if I have to.” It’s a threat, but it’s sincere. You can find some other way to rebel against him besides trying to starve yourself. Sighing, you open up for him, lips brushing the tips of his servos as you take the bite to make him shudder. “Is being here so awful?” He doesn’t mean to ask, because your anger can only hurt him and he knows it. Is it so much to ask for you to feel anything for him? Any affection, not just physical need?

• “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.” It’s a lie and you know it. Even if he let you go, you’re not sure that you could make yourself walk away from him. That longing pulling at you, would stop you in your tracks. And even if you somehow forced yourself to keep going, to run? That warmth that’s him would fade away to just leave a hollow ache over time. Missing something you’d never even wanted to begin with. Trapped by something you don’t understand. The arm still curled around you tenses, but he doesn’t have an angry comeback this time, just silently offers you another bite of food. Venting against your neck as you let him feed you, hurting because all of this is wrong. The safety you feel in his arms, his fake concern, it’s all a lie to trap you.

Previous

[meydang]

cute wings

(sfw)

Nameless!Sunday x Nameless!reader

Based on Sunday's ultimate animation and my own headcanons about halovian's lore.

.

.

.

"So what was that move you whip out earlier? The one with the vines and everything!" You said, clearly impressed while sitting down on one of the couch.

"Have you been hiding the other two pair of wings or do they only come out when you do that last move?" You asked eagerly when Sunday enter the parlor car, the both of you having just gotten back from your trailblazing expidition together. Your eyes following him as he joins you on the couch, with sparks of curiosity in it.

It hasn't been that long since Sunday joined the Astral express, but he could definitely say that it's been enough for him to start opening up to all the nameless and vice versa.

"Ah, are you refering to my supporting spell?" This is the case especially for you, with your seemingly endless energy and desire to learn about everything, it's only a matter of time before you start flooding him with all these question about anything that piqued your interest.

"For halovians, our wings are like a representation of our emotion and power, similar to that of our halo." Sunday pause for a moment, you guessed to try and think of an answer that will satisfy your question.

"To put it simply, take that fight we just won earlier for example, I was using my power to aid us, the wings that appeared were due to my strong emotion and use of power at the moment." He turned to look at you as you nod multiple times, trying to grasp your head around the new information like a lost puppy trying to figure out where it is.

You do that quite often - something Sunday has took notice and find endearing.

Cute, he think.

"Sooo... does that mean the wings can only come out when you are in a state like that?" You finally said after some time. "Aw pity, I was hoping you could make them appear anytime you know, I think they are really adorable!" You said what you were thinking with all honesty, completely oblivious to the fact that your last comment caught the halovian off guard and flustered to his core, hints of red dusting his cheeks.

"Th-that is not entirely correct, I can make them visible if I want to, but I'll need to be in a state of strong emotion or focus on my power in that case." Sunday tries to brush of your compliment about his wings with his answer, but before he could given it anymore thoughts, you have already came up with an idea.

Sunday jolts slightly as you prop your chin onto his shoulder, your face display a smug expression, looking up at him with your hand on top of his own.

"Wait, if I'm correct... Then I'll just have to make you feel emotions strong enough for your cute wings to come out, right?"

Huh? What did you just say? What are you planning? How did- what? There is a million things going through Sunday's head right now and the fact that your gaze are still fixed on him while this is happening does not help at all. Sunday doesn't know what is worse, the way he got insanely flustered just by a few compliments or you being extremely close to him right now.

"Well...? Aren't you gonna say anything?" He heard you said in the slowest and most teasing way possible, as if to get even more reaction from him. Before he could even answer, you stood up and move infront of him.

"Sunday." you said while bending down to face him, your hands on your knees and face tilting down at him with an adoring smile.

Huh?

"Yes?" He managed to say, his head spinning to guess what are you planning to say next.

"Although it hadn't been long since you join the express, you have been adapting and trying your best to keep up with the crew really well." Sunday can feel his cheeks burning with every sweet words uttered from your mouth. You on the other hand, are determined to get his marvelous wings to come out.

"You have done a great job as a nameless... Don't you think so too?" You continue, still looking down at him but leaned in a bit closer, too close for Sunday to maintain his composure. If he still has any, that is.

"Ah, th-thank you. That's very kind of you to say." As his wings move to cover his face, he can here an audible 'aww' coming from you which caught him by surprise. Resulting in him moving them to his side again, for a better view of what was happening.

"It worked!" Opening his eyes, Sunday sees you smiling and gushing over his wings - ah, right, his other wings that have appeared due to him being oh so flustered just by your simple remarks.

"May I touch them?" You asked, your gaze gentle, yet still intense that it makes Sunday gulp nervously as his face turn even more red.

"Yes, you may." Sunday doesn't know why he gave you permission, as if you being in such close proximity to him wasn't enough to get his heart pounding. Especially with the fact that his wings are actually pretty sensitive.

With a happy grin, you reach out to glide over the feathers with the back of your hand, not missing how doing it make Sunday shudders a bit.

"Oh, sorry!" You retrieve your hand after noticing.

"No no, it's fine... please continue." He assured, not wanting you to feel bad. Even if he doesn't exactly want you to keep thumbing his wings like this... purely because it's making him all embarrassed and a blushing mess.

"You know... what I said earlier about you joining the express. I wasn't just teasing you, I actually meant it." You reach out for his wings again, this time with a soft smile, making sure he knows you are being sincere.

Sunday made a dumbfounded expression, or atleast you think he is, his face shows a mix of gratitude and confusion as he stare at you.

"I am grateful that you hold me on such high regards, though... I do not believe I have made any significant contribution to the express, more less better than all of you." Sunday answered truthfully. How could you say all these good things about him when he doesn't deserve any of it? How are you still able to welcome him with open arm? After all his mistakes, after the grand pursuit of a dream paradise through such manipulative methods, and-

"Sunday!"

He blinked,

Once,

Twice,

"Hey, are you okay? You just zoned out for a moment." You move your hands from his wings to his shoulder, sitting down next to him again, tone worried.

"Sorry... I was just deep in thought. Were you saying something?" He quickly apologized, feeling bad for making you worried. Yet again another reason he doesn't deserve your praises, Sunday blames himself.

"I said stop thinking bad about yourself. Don't ever say anything like that... nobody is perfect, everyone has their own flaws and values. You just have to not let your doubts get to you." You turned Sunday towards your direction a bit, so that he's looking at you in the eyes.

"Hm, promise me you'll never think negatively about yourself again." You said firmly, waiting for him.

"I-I promise." With an exhale Sunday replied to you, smilling. "Thank you."

You smile back "There we go, now that's my little angle~"

!?

This is the second time you have caught him off guard in this conversation. Little angle? At this point he swear you will be the death of him eventually, Sunday think as you suddenly lit up.

"Well, let's lighten things up a bit..." you said, pulling out your phone. "Say cheeseeee" what are y-

Snap

Just like that, a picture of Sunday smilling sheepishly and flapping his wings was sent to the astral express family group chat. Earning you a panic, embarrassed Sunday and the multiple 'aww's from the trailblazer and March.

_

The Astral Express Family

You: (picture)

You: I found a happy bird on the express today~

March: aww

Trailblazer: wow! Six wings!

Trailblazer: aww

Sunday: ...

_

[crimsonwolf715]

What Have I Done?

{I know canonically that Dick’s fears are all mental hurdles (failure, his family not loving him, etc), but I like the idea of that soul eating guilt. So enjoy this definitely far (maybe not really far, but still far) from canon fic about Dick on fear toxin 🫡}

Scarecrow’s been out of Arkham for three days. Tim managed to find his location and the Bats are at the place so they can get him back to Arkham before he causes a major incident. 

“Scarecrow’s in the warehouse, so proceed with caution,” Bruce says. 

“You got it, old man,” Jason says. 

“I’m always cautious,” Damian says. 

“That is a lie,” Tim replies. 

“Don’t fight, you two,” Dick says. “Focus on Scarecrow.” 

The five split up and start searching the warehouse. 

Dick’s cautious when walking into each area, making sure he has an exit route. After searching half of his area, he walks into a room with his escrima sticks at the ready. There’s nothing in the room beside a large bookcase partially against one wall. Dick checks behind it for anything, then turns to leave. The door slams shut and he hears some kind of click. He runs over and starts trying to open the door. 

Gas starts coming in through the vents and Dick pulls his mask on. He keeps trying to manhandle the door open when something comes flying at him. He ducks and realizes that it’s a small rock. He turns the way it came from in just enough time to see another rock hit his mask. His mask cracks and he starts cursing. Gas fills the room and Dick continues to try to get out, but the door stays firmly in place. 

He’s holding his breath, trying to avoid inhaling any at all, but that doesn’t work. He can’t hold his breath long enough. He breathes it in and starts coughing immediately. It feels like it’s burning his nose and throat. He keeps trying to get out the door until he hears it. 

“Richard.” 

Dick turns and Bruce is standing there in full Batman uniform, giving Dick the full power of the Batglare™. 

“You’re a disgrace, a plague on this family,” Bruce says. “You failed me. You’re not a part of this family anymore.” 

“No, don’t do this,” Dick pleads. “I’m sorry, Dad.” 

“You should be. You’re a sorry excuse for a partner and a son.” 

Tears well up in Dick’s eyes. “ Please, stop. ” 

“You should just go back to Blüdhaven and never come back.” 

Dick starts crying. “ Dad. ” 

Bruce starts shouting that Dick needs to leave and Dick claws his comm out of his ear so he can better cover his ears. He hears his family start screaming in pain. He opens his eyes and sees all of them being brutally tortured by Joker, Two-Face, and Scarecrow. Dick squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to believe that’s what’s happening. A loud bang interrupts his family’s screams. Dick turns and Scarecrow’s there with a big ass sword. Dick pulls out his escrima sticks and attacks Scarecrow. The two start sparring, Dick having the upper hand. 

“Dick, snap out of it.”  

Scarecrow’s not going down with the usual amount of force, so Dick stops pulling his punches as much. 

“You’re worthless. You’ve failed the city and your family. My toxins will turn this city into a hellhole of despair.” 

Scarecrow uses his sword to disarm Dick. Dick throws a kick at him but he manages to dodge it. Scarecrow raises the sword and Dick grabs the knife out of his boot that he only keeps for emergencies. He throws it and it nails Scarecrow in the side. Scarecrow drops as Dick’s vision blurs. 

“No, I need to get him into custody and stop the bleeding.” 

Dick’s body gives out and he passes out. 

Dick wakes up and he’s in the warehouse. He sits up and Tim’s beside him, bleeding. It seemed like he was trying to stop the bleeding, but he passed out before he could. Dick goes over and realizes that he can’t move his right arm without excruciating pain. He ignores it and starts putting pressure on the wound. Jason runs into the room. 

“What the hell did you do?” Jason asks. 

“What did I do?” Dick replies, confused. 

“Tim was fighting you, so yes I’m asking you.” 

Dick backs away from Tim, realizing that he wasn’t fighting Scarecrow. He was fighting Tim. Jason rushes over to Tim. 

“What is wrong with you right now?” Jason asks. 

Dick’s back hits the wall and pain shoots through his shoulder. He ignores it as tears well up in his eyes. 

“What have I done?” Dick asks. 

Dick runs out of the room and he hears Jason shouting his name but he ignores it entirely. He makes it outside and trips. He lands on his knees, then throws up. Once he finally stops throwing up or dry heaving, which takes almost ten minutes, he looks for his comm. He doesn’t find it though. 

I must have left it inside. I remember I took it out because all I could hear was Bruce saying that I was a… I am a failure. I almost killed my little brother. Tim’s been through so much and I probably just gave him so much more trauma. He’ll never trust me again.  

Tears start falling and Dick quietly sobs there, unsure what else to do. 

“Dick.” 

Dick turns and even though he can barely see past the tears, he recognizes the outline of Batman. He starts crying harder, all of the things Bruce said earlier rushing back into his head. He feels Bruce’s hand on his good shoulder and he tries to push the hand away. He doesn’t deserve any kind of comfort. 

“Jason’s gotten Tim to Leslie and he’s gonna be fine,” Bruce says. “We need to get you there too.” 

“No.” 

“Tonight isn’t your fault.” 

“Yes it is. I’m supposed to protect my siblings, and I almost killed Tim. How am I supposed to live with myself, Dad?” 

Bruce pulls Dick into a hug, careful of Dick’s shoulder even though he didn’t tell him about the injury. Dick hugs Bruce back tightly and the sobbing resumes. 

“You’ll take it one day at a time, like we always do.” 

Bruce rubs Dick’s back until a small beep sounds. 

“I hear you. We’re on our way back now,” Bruce says to whoever’s on comms. 

“I… I can’t face him, Dad.” 

“I’m gonna take you to Leslie. We can discuss you talking to Tim once you’ve completely detoxed. I’m going to pick you up now, is that alright?” 

“Sure.” 

Bruce gently picks Dick up and takes him to the Batmobile. The drive is silent, Dick silently crying. When they get to the Cave, Tim’s nowhere to be seen. Leslie’s waiting for them though. 

“Go see Tim, Dad. I’ll be fine,” Dick says. 

“Are you…?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Leslie gives him a checkup and aside from having to bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood when she checks his shoulder, she doesn’t seem concerned. Dick’s barely hearing what she’s saying, but nothing concerning. 

“I don’t know exactly what’s wrong with your shoulder.” 

Dick turns to look at her. 

“I want to take you in to get scans,” Leslie says.

“Great, sounds perfect,” Dick replies.

“Don’t be sarcastic with me.” 

“I’m not. Get off my ass about it.” 

Leslie looks surprised and Dick sighs. “Sorry, I don’t mean that. I just… I don’t really want to be around right now, and I don’t really want to go to the hospital.” 

The elevator opens and Damian comes out. Dick watches as Damian makes a beeline for him. He braces himself for a lecture or criticism, anything to live up to how people should be treating him. 

“Are you alright, Grayson?” 

“God only knows what’s wrong with my shoulder, but other than that I’m peachy. Is Tim alright?” 

“Yes, Timothy’s fine. He didn’t lose too much blood thanks to the three of you and I apprehended Scarecrow with Father. Nothing for you to worry about.” 

“I hurt Tim.” 

“Under the influence of fear toxin. You clearly thought that you were protecting yourself from someone that would cause you permanent harm. No one blames you.” 

“Other than me,” Dick says. 

“Other than you,” Damian echoes. “I’m going to stay here with you for a while. Father’s speaking with Timothy and Alfred’s otherwise occupied.” 

Dick notices that Leslie’s in the elevator, but he doesn’t care to say anything. 

She’ll be back.  

Damian sits in front of Dick and leans against him. Dick runs his hand through Damian’s hair, quietly humming. 

“What song is this?” Damian asks. 

“I don’t know,” Dick answers. “My mom used to sing it but I can’t remember the words well enough to look it up.” 

“My mother used to sing to me as well.” 

“Yeah, it kinda seems to be a thing that moms do. Jason said that his mother always used to sing this one song to him and he always knew that it was time to settle down. He didn’t tell me what song it was because I would abuse that, which he technically isn’t wrong about, but even Tim said that his mother sang to him when she was around.” 

Damian nods and Dick goes back to humming. Damian falls asleep after a short while and Dick keeps running a hand through his hair, trying not to cry again. Jason comes down with his hands in his pockets. 

“What the hell did you do?”  

Dick looks back down at Damian so Jason can’t see the tears starting to fall. 

“My sweet baby,” Dick whispers. 

“Hey. Can we talk, Dickie?” Jason asks quietly. 

“Sure,” Dick answers, surprising himself with how steady his voice is. 

“I… You…” Jason takes a breath. “I’m sorry.” 

Dick looks up at Jason. “For what?” 

“I… Tim told us that you possibly had been affected by some kind of drugs and I blamed you the second I saw Tim’s condition.” 

“It’s my fault, Jason.” 

“It was the drugs.” 

“It was me. Drugs or not, it was my hands that hurt him. That wasn’t Scarecrow.” 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Jason says. “That’s not how this works. Those drugs make you completely hallucinate something different than what’s really there. As someone who’s killed people on that before, it’s not black and white. Tim’s fine and that’s great, but you need to get out of your head.” 

Dick goes to snap back at Jason and he finds he has nothing to say. Jason’s not wrong, but all Dick can think is that he hurt his little brother. That it could have been Damian. That Tim could have been a little less prepared and died because of him. 

“Jason…” 

“Yeah?” 

“I forgive you. You took the exact approach I did.” 

“Thanks. Leslie’s probably gonna be storming down here any minute.” 

“Did she tell Dad that I was refusing the hospital?” 

“Oh, she was going when I saw her. If that approach doesn’t work, then she’ll just come down here and give you a lecture.” 

“Yeah, sounds nice. As long as she isn’t too loud and wakes Damian.” 

“Oh, Damian got the normal fear toxin and the cure administered. He’ll be sleeping till morning regardless.” 

“Well, that makes him falling asleep in this position make more sense.” 

“He likes you.” 

“I’m sure he does, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s sleeping on me in a way that was perfectly normal for me with Bruce.” 

Leslie comes down with a triumphant look. 

“Bruce must have told her that you should go,” Jason says. 

“When was the last time he was the boss of me? I’m not moving.” 

“Alfred said that you had to get your shoulder checked out,” Leslie says. 

“Fine, I’ll go,” Dick says. “Jason, can you take Damian?” 

Jason gently picks up Damian, who huffs, but doesn’t wake up. Dick gets up and follows Leslie. She drives him to the hospital and she must have called ahead because it was ready when they got there. Dick goes through the process without complaint, even though he’d rather complain a lot. 

“How did this happen?” Leslie asks as she looks over the scans. 

“I don’t know,” Dick answers. “I barely remember most of tonight. That probably won’t stick, but I don’t know.” 

“Alright, I’ll see if Tim can let me know. If not, that’s fine. Your injury, thankfully, isn’t as bad as I thought it was. You’ll still have a recovery time for it, but it’s not too bad. No working while this is healing.” 

“I think I’m just gonna stay at home and hug my baby brother.” 

“I doubt Damian will let you hug him that long, but feel free to do that with one arm.” 

She goes through the plan with him and gets his arm in a sling, which is annoying. She takes him back to the manor and when he walks in, Bruce is sitting at the dining room table. 

“Hey, Dad,” Dick says. 

“Hey,” Bruce replies. “How’s your shoulder?” 

“Fine. I’ll be in this thing for a little while, but that’s not the end of the world. Why aren’t you with Tim?” 

“Tim wants to talk to you, so I was waiting for you.” 

Dick takes a breath, then nods. The two walk upstairs and Tim’s arguing with Jason about the proper way to hold Damian. 

“I am holding him just fine. He’s still asleep and he’s not complaining,” Jason says. 

“Hey, Dick,” Tim says. 

Jason turns. “Hey, Dickie.” 

“Hey, you two.” 

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Jason says. “I’m gonna get Damian into his bed.” 

Jason heads out and Dick takes a seat. 

“I’m not mad at you,” Tim says. “I know it wasn’t you.” 

“Thanks, buddy. I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Dick replies. 

“Did I hurt your shoulder?” Tim asks. “I don’t really remember the end of the fight.” 

“I actually don’t know. I don’t really remember my shoulder getting hurt. I’ll be in this for a while and be fine, so it doesn’t really matter who hurt my shoulder.” 

“Hey, Dick?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You still see us as equals, right?” 

“Of course.” 

“So no hard feelings then. Batman’s kicked the shit out of ninety percent of the Justice League and they still don’t hold a grudge, much.” 

Dick nods. “Okay, deal. I didn’t think of it like that.” 

Tim shrugs. “Sometimes you need a more objective view. I’m trying not to be so objective about my relationships with you guys, but it’s good for things like this.” 

Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “Alright, I’m gonna try to get some rest.” 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Dick.” 

“See you in the morning, Tim.” 

Dick heads to his room to try to get some rest.

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

Hnnnng I want to have the energy to do one of the several projects I have on the docket for this weekend, but I currently have 0% energy and my body just wants to take Poorly Timed Naps

[chaotic-birds]

1-800-red-hoods-gas-station-attendant-service

Your boyfriend's not fond of you pumping your own gas at night, so he insists you don't do it alone.

🩹 G/AUs: fluff, est. relt. 🩹 TW: reader (f) is called beautiful, pretty, princess, baby, doll (i love nicknames okay leave me alone 😭), mentions of blood and fighting 🩹 WC: 1.5k 🩹 A/N: Inspired by this reel (sfw). Just a little fun and easy read 💗 enjoy!

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

masterlist

Ever since Jason caught a group of people trying to rob someone at the gas station a week ago, he’s insisted you not get gas alone—especially at night.

Your arguments fall on deaf ears. He’s put his foot down and covered it in cement. There’s nothing you can say to make Jason change his mind.

“Hey, beau”—grunts—”tiful. Need somethin’?” Jason asks after the fourth ring.

You can faintly hear the sound of fists hitting skin in the background.

“You busy, handsome?” you wonder, eyes glancing at the low fuel light glaring at you. You already know his answer and the real answer before he speaks.

“Nope,” he answers followed by more grunting. “You home from your ladies' night?”

Upon seeing a gas station in the distance, you signal to take the highway's exit ramp.

“Not yet. I called because I’m low on gas and need to get some to make it home. I figured calling you while I pumped—”

“Where are you?” he asks instead, voice slightly strained.

“Near upper west side.”

“Come to the diamond district, and I’ll meet you there.”

You pull into an empty pump station.

“I’m already at a gas station, Jay. Just—”

“It’s not safe.”

“You’re tracking my location and you can hear—”

“It’s not safe to use your phone while getting gas too,” he continues to interrupt.

You heave a sigh and lean back into your seat, unable to stop your eyes from checking your locks. Although you’ve always been weary of pumping gas at night, you try not to be too paranoid. You hate being on edge all the time.

“Please, doll?” he pleads, breathing heavier.

There are curses in the background that don’t sound like Jason. His attackers must not like him much.

“Alright, but hurry. My light’s on,” you say. You sit straighter and shift gears to leave.

“I’m on my way now. Hey, Red Ro—”

The line cuts off, but you figure Jason’s recruiting Tim to take care of his loose ends. You feel bad for taking Jason away from his work, but you don’t want him to be upset with you for getting gas by yourself. He’s not fun when he’s grumpy.

Jason’s sitting comfortably on his motorcycle when you turn into the station.

When he sees your car, he stands and waves. You know there’s a grin behind his helmet.

The gas station is empty except for the convenience store worker. He looks at the vigilante suspiciously from inside.

You park at the station he’s at, turn off the car, and pull the lever that opens the gas tank. You climb out and smile at him, holding your card in one hand.

“Hi there, cutie. You come here often?” you tease.

He chuckles and swiftly pays for the gas before you can. You give him a disapproving look that he ignores.

“Only for you, princess,” he replies.

You put your card away as he takes the pump and untwists the tank’s cap.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling guilty again. You figured he’d come and watch the area, not actually pump your gas for you.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You can sit back down and jus’ look pretty for me, baby.”

“That makes me sound like a spoiled brat,” you huff but do as you’re told, keeping the door open so you can converse.

Jason leans against your car as he fills your tank.

“Well, you’re only half right. You are spoiled, but that’s the way I like it.”

You shake your head at his reply, but there’s a smile on your face. Truthfully, it’s a little nice to not have to worry about anything—to just let Jason care for you.

Your eyes scan his tall form, taking in his armored-covered body and shiny helmet. You notice a few dark spots on his gloves and clothes that you figure are blood.

“It’s a little funny seeing the Red Hood pump my gas,” you quip as you grin at him.

“What can I say? I’m here to help the citizens of Gotham in any way,” he jokes.

“You have a busy night?” you ask, recalling the phone call from earlier.

“Nothin’ too extreme,” he replies.

When your tank is full, he returns the pump and twists the cap back on.

He moves in front of you, resting one hand on the car’s top while he leans down.

“If it weren’t for that goober watching us like a hawk, I’d give you a kiss,” he says.

“Only a kiss? I’d pull you in the back seat and have some fun,” you say with a flirty smile.

He laughs and lowers his head more. You’re so tempted to kiss him.

“We’ll have fun at home,” he says.

“You’re coming back with me?” you ask, eyes opening wider with hope.

He shakes his head. “Sorry, princess. I still need to go help Tim. I’ll be back soon though.”

“Define soon,” you reply with a slight pout.

Jason drops in a squat so he can take your hands; the act is hidden by your door.

“An hour or two?” he says. “But don’t wait up. It could be longer.”

You nod solemnly.

Jason squeezes your hands, thumbs rubbing your skin tenderly.

“Text me when you get home, ‘kay?” he asks.

“Okay,” you say.

Jason releases your hands to rub your thighs.

“Thank you for calling me,” he adds.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want my boyfriend upset with me,” you huff halfheartedly.

Jason squeezes your legs.

“Just want ya safe, doll.”

“I know,” you sigh and place your hands over his.

“I better get going,” he says and reluctantly begins to pull away.

You grab his hands to hold him close.

“Ya know, you might as well just kiss me. I think the worker knows you’re not just here to pump a random Gothamite’s gas.”

Jason chuckles and takes a peek at the window. The worker still looks on, but now with a confused face. When he notices Jason staring, he averts his gaze. Though, Jason knows it won’t last long.

“Fine,” he relents and leans down.

You grin, reaching out to cup his helmet as you kiss the cool material. Of course, it’s not the same as feeling his lips on yours, but the sentiment is felt.

“Love you,” you murmur as you pull away and drop your hands.

Jason sighs longingly. “Love you too, beautiful. See you at home.”

“See you,” you reply.

Jason ends up following you for a while for extra precaution before heading back to his patrol shift. He doesn’t come home for another three hours.

When he does, you’re on the brink of sleep. Still, you turn in his arms so you can snuggle your face against his chest.

“Missed you,” you mumble.

His chest vibrates as he laughs. “You saw me a few hours ago.”

“And what ‘bout it, Todd?” you huff.

He pulls you even closer and rests his head against yours. His body feels so nice. You wish you could stay in his arms for days.

“Nothin’, doll. I missed ya too,” he says in a deep, tired voice.

“Hmph! Thought so,” you reply and carefully lift your head to give him a triumphant smile.

Jason releases an amused puff of air.

“Get some sleep, silly,” he says.

“Kiss first,” you demand, puckering your lips dramatically.

Jason grins and angles his face to give you a tender smooch.

Your lips spread in a grin upon feeling him directly.

When he goes to pull away, you whine in protest and chase after him. You capture his mouth again before he can get too far.

Jason laughs into the kiss, pulling you on top of him. His hands trail up your sides to cup your face. His warmth spreads from your cheeks to your heart.

There’s a dopey, sleepy smile on your face when you pull away.

“God, I love you,” Jason says with the utmost sincerity that squeezes your heart.

“Not as much as I love you,” you sing-song, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Yeah, right,” he chuckles and moves his hands back to your sides. He slides them under your shirt to feel you directly.

Instead of arguing, you lean down to kiss him once more.

“You’re comfy,” you mumble.

He can’t stop the happiness that shows on his face at your words. He gently eases you down by pressing lightly on your upper back and says, “Good. I like you like this.” 

He adjusts his head against his pillow and closes his eyes, arms holding your body to his like a teddy bear.

“I like being here,” you reply and lay your head on his chest. You love hearing the rhythm of his heart.

You feel him give your head a kiss before he gets settled. It’s not long before his breathing gets steadier, and his arms lax slightly around your body. As you join him in dreamland, you realize you’ll never feel safer than in his arms. 

A/N: I have this for my other blog, so I wanted to share it here too: For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[suguann]

✎. you've been on the run for a while. you knew someone would come eventually—but not him.

tags. fem!reader, old west era, bounty hunter simon, size difference, size kink, implied the reader's husband is a terrible human, accidental voyeurism, period-typical sexism, masturbation [18+ only]

masterlist

You’ve been running for months, first from your husband (the phantom grip of his hand still sending an ache through your wrist) and now as a wanted conwoman for stealing the clothes from an unsuspecting cowpoke who thought he was getting lucky. You can only imagine what Mama would say about trading your ruffled skirts for grass-stained trousers and boiled-leather suspenders.

(It’s unbecoming of a respectable woman, dear. Uncouth.)

She’d probably have a lot to say if she knew everything you’ve done to survive.

You hop from one place to the next only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a helpless woman accompany them on their travels. Nearly a month has passed since being stranded in a dusty old mining town after a man and his wife dump you off and leave you behind. Washoe’s a little gritty and not welcoming unless there’s money to spend.

It’s not exactly safe, not unsafe, either, but nobody asks questions as long as you keep your head down and play the part of a mourning widow just passing through.

You know you’ve overextended your stay when you can’t leave your room during the day without worrying about a noose and the open end of a barrel meeting you outside. 

(That your husband or that gun-waving cowpoke finally found you.)

Sleep practically clings to you like a second skin, but you don’t dare close your eyes—you can’t.

This is how you end up sitting in the corner of the saloon, using the last of whatever you have in your change purse to order something strong, something your husband kept locked away, and anything else he thought women shouldn’t have a part in. 

You don’t even realize that your eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the flickering lantern on the wall while you wait for your drink. 

You catch yourself once or twice before your head can hit the table, rapidly blinking away the exhaustion before your eyes slide to the swinging doors.

You should stay awake. 

You need to stay awake just a little bit longer—

Your luck runs out that day. 

It’s one thing to know it’d happen eventually, and something else to realize that you make it easy for him—the man with an infamous name and a faded black bandana covering half his face—how he walked into the saloon and scooped you up (all unladylike sleepy dead weight) out of the weathered booth without a fight.

When you’d woken up to find yourself trussed up and thrown over the back of his horse, you cursed him out with every word you could think of that would make Mama clutch her skirts. Your captor ignored you, only talking to you whenever he warned you he was about to set up camp. 

“Did my husband send you?” Acknowledging him after all this time tasted like pennies on your tongue.

The man, Simon Riley, had leaned back against his bedroll and tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

That was several weeks ago. 

Now, you find yourself stranded in another state that’s more green and vibrant than anything you’re familiar with, stuck with a man who refuses to answer the questions you throw at him. He doesn’t talk outside a few cursory words you greedily latch onto. Anything’s better than silence and the sound of hooves hitting earth. 

The pace he keeps you at is exhausting. You complain about it enough until he moves you in front of him, tying your hands to the saddle's horn.

“I would strongly advise you to shut that mouth for the rest of the ride unless you want me to do something about that, too.” The low growl of his voice in your ear makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up, muddling your brain.

You’re distantly aware you had something to say to that, but you don’t. 

And that is really saying something.

It’s because there’s someone he needs to meet in town—an errand that lawbreakers who run their mouths aren’t allowed to go on.

This is how you end up sitting in camp alone, twirling around a knife he gave you solely for emergencies. 

(Surprise, sharp and quick through your middle, when he tosses his pocket knife into the grass beside you. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”

You could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “Will you?”

It doesn’t seem worth dignifying with a reply. You don’t want to travel alone, and there’s a high possibility of getting lost, finding yourself saddled up with worse company than the one you’re stuck with.

Until he evidently catches you again.)

He’s a lot nicer than you first gave him credit for—if only by a fraction—not that you know much about Simon other than what you overheard from gossip circles before you became Mrs. Thornton. Afternoons spent sipping tea laden with honey and lounging around a table full of cakes in the sun parlor while wealthy women talked behind their lace-covered hands to hide secret smiles you were too naive to understand. 

Trying not to stare at the bulge of his arms with thin pink scars—unlike the men you’re used to who got through life with a silver spoon hanging from their mouth—as he places his saddle back on his horse, you think you finally know what they smiled about.

You learn those scars also litter his torso from the time you accidentally walked upon him mid-way through putting his trousers on after washing in the river. It’d been too dark for you to see much else, and you quickly returned to camp before he could say something that would embarrass you both. 

Then, of course, tucked away into your bedroll, you can’t help wondering what the rest of him would have looked like if you had stayed a second longer. 

If his jaw is sharp or soft behind that mask he insists on wearing—that’s if he’d let you see at all. 

Simon’s always so serious that it’s often hard to determine whether he’s merely tolerating your existence until he can get rid of you or if he’s unused to traveling accompanied for so long. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to make pleasant conversation with you for you to assume otherwise.

You look off in the direction where he disappeared into the dense line of trees hours ago, wondering if you should go out looking for him (mainly because you’re hot and sticky from the humidity) despite his order to stay put. 

But after four hours turns into five, you head off, searching for something to help cool you off.

Luckily, unlike the heavily eroded lands you’re used to, there isn’t any water shortage in a place that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take long to find a lake. You set your knife down on the stone-covered beach, followed by your boots, until you’re left in nothing but your undergarments. 

The water is icy cold and laps gently at your feet when you step in. You can’t find it in you to complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further you walk in and find a wide ledge to sit on. 

Your thoughts drift back to Simon, incessant and intruding even though you shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. And suddenly, you can picture it: his hands replacing yours as they trace along your neck. You have a feeling they’re probably rough and scarred from years of living hard and gunslinging, extracting the readily available knowledge that they’re big enough to encase your waist.

He could maneuver you around however he wants (you know this), and you feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the water while your hands smooth over the tips of your breasts and down your stomach. 

You wish you could see him without violating whatever personal preservations hide him from the rest of the world. Instead, you’re left with your imagination—the benefits of being a married woman and the little experience you have in the bedroom finally coming into play. 

Closing your eyes, you picture what he might look like under those sun-weathered leathers, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his vest and holsters but also from how his job has shaped him.

Your hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the creamy, soft wetness between your legs, evidence of what Simon does to you even when he’s not around. A moan, too high and breathy, slips past your lips as you use your middle finger to circle your clit in slow, clumsy swirls from lack of practice and patience that spreads warmth through your middle despite the cold water. 

It’s good, your fingers discovering places your husband always ignored—too many nights spent with your hand under your nightgown long after he’d tucked his cock away and gone to sleep—but probably don’t compare to the ones you’ve caught yourself staring at far too many times. 

They don’t fill you nearly enough, unlike how you know Simon’s would—thick and unrelenting. Rough and long, reaching deep enough to make you breathless.

Your breath hitches from pinching the tight, sensitive peak of your nipple until you feel a slight sting, and then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to your ears—Simon—a secret you now share with the lightning bugs and crickets.

“Dirty, no good rotten—” he’d tell you for thinking such lewd thoughts about him, for sinning so easily. Maybe you are, for getting so worked up over a man who isn’t your husband (no matter how terrible a husband he may be).

A man who’s so big that he makes you feel small, the type that gives before he takes. It’s enough to make you work your hand faster—your body vibrating from the chill of the water and the ache between your trembling thighs.  

Fantasies aren’t enough to sate the deep longing in your chest. Yet you’re slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking your next breath—all of it builds up and gradually crests inside you like the lake rippling against the shore.

Afterward, it leaves you feeling soft and blurred around the edges, a watercolor painting drying under the sun while you wait for your rapid heartbeat to slow.

You don’t realize your eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and you’re startled to find Simon standing at the shoreline, his chest heaving as if he ran here. 

(Though he probably did to see if you took the opportunity to leave.)

You’re glued to your spot on the rock, suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen you come—that he possibly heard you cry out his name so intimately.

You watch him remove his hat and hang it on a branch with wide eyes. Followed by his undershirt, guns, and—

He keeps removing clothes until he’s completely naked on the shore—aside from his face that stays hidden—scars marred his chest, spreading to his collarbones and below the water as he steps into the lake and sits on another ledge across from you.

His mask makes him look more menacing, erasing any trace of softness there. And you wonder if he’s angry at you for wandering off.

"Come here." His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

You don't think he'd hurt you. If he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

At least, that’s what you’re going with to settle the nervous fluttering in your middle.

Water laps at your arms as you wade through the water, each shaky step bringing you closer until you stop before him.

"In my lap."

Your breath sticks in your throat as you do as he says, settling down onto his sturdy thighs, palms falling flat against his broad chest. That same breath comes out in one large exhale as his fingers slide along your jaw, to the nape of your neck, curling into your hair, wet and falling around your shoulders.

“Like this?” you ask, trying to ignore how breathy you sound.

He grunts, apparently in confirmation.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so conflicted in your life—fear and arousal turning into a messy cocktail in your veins.

“Why do I always have to use a heavy hand to make you listen?”

Your lips part. Breath growing short. “I’m sorry.”

And then—

Simon pulls your head back sharply, exposing your throat.

Your body goes slack against his. Mind blissfully blank.

“No,” he says, tone flat. “But you will be.”

[jsprnt]

you and your boyfriend fight about how much less time he’s been spending with you

jude bellingham x reader

A/N: first jude one-shot after writing a 16 part series of him, let’s go!! based on this request!!

W/C: 1.936

"where are you going? you told me you were off today..”

you say, brows furrowed as you look up from your laptop. you're greeted by an obviously frustrated-looking Jude, dressed up and ready to go out.

"I am off today. I'm about to head out with the guys.." he says, opening the fridge, sticking his hand out, and grabbing a cold bottle of kombucha.

"oh.." you trail off, eyes gliding back to your laptop screen, words dancing on your word document.

you'd been fully focused on writing your essay for your university class. school had kept you incredibly busy lately, and you had only a matter of a couple months left before you could finally graduate.

jude had also been very busy with his career. long hours of training, his matches out of the country, keeping him from spending time with you.

you had found it difficult to even sit and talk together for more than an hour, because either you had to work on something for university, or jude needed to go out for his work.

you had not told him yet, but it drove you absolutely insane. before you both had moved to madrid for his career, you had a fair amount of time to spend with each other , but now that he'd transferred to real madrid- even a moment together felt impossible...

unbeknownst to you, you clench the pen in your hand tightly, trying hold yourself back from spitting out absolute nonsense.

your eyes flicker back to the kitchen when you hear jude rummage through the kitchen cabinet.

"what're you doing?" you ask, sucking in a breath, and getting off the chair you’re sitting on. walking over to him, and leaving your laptop behind on the dinner table.

"looking for a bottle opener.." he mumbles, opening a few drawers halfway, before closing them haphazardly.

"it's in the third one.." you mumble, mood noticeably down, as you open the drawer and hand him the silver bottle opener. 

"here.." you say, snarky tone slipping, even though you try your best to suppress it.

"what's up with you?" jude asks, opening his drink with a 'pop', before pouring the contents of the bottle into a glass. 

"nothing.." you mumble, not daring to look him in the eye, knowing you'll explode in frustration if you do.

"you're definitely hiding something.." he says, chugging his drink down, before slipping his phone into his back pocket, indicating he's about to leave.

the action triggers you instantly, and you look up, your eyes burning holes into his face.

"can you just go already? you're so eager to leave, just like every off day you've had for the past month.." you spit, fingers gripping the kitchen counter, as a scowl is plastered across your face.

jude pauses for a second, eyes widening for a moment, before he looks at you with furrowed brows.

"what are you on about? can I not enjoy my day off with my mates or something?" he asks, voice clearly upset. his brum accent is thick, annoyance showing as wrinkles etch into his forehead.

“no, it’s not like you’ve spent every single fucking day off with them or anything…” you raise your voice slightly, frustration rising up and making your face hot.

you knew that you’d messed up by raising your voice, but the amount of both sadness and aggravation that had been building up in your heart for the past month needed an outlet.

channeling your emotions into a proper conversation was definitely better, but jude wasn’t a clueless teenage boy anymore.

there’s absolutely no excuse for him to not realize how much time he’d been spending out of the house. neglecting his relationship- partially to both work obligations, and his own decisions to go out on his off days.

“really? you’re actually going to tell me how I should spend my days off? like I haven’t busting my arse to train, to be in top shape for the euros?”

the frown on jude’s face deepens, and his hands fall to his side. annoyance written all over his handsome face.

“oh, please. go ahead and think of why I’m saying this. use your brain for a second and think for me, yeah?” your voice is full of venom, and you turn around, slippers hitting the floor as you make your way up the stairs. leaving your boyfriend in the kitchen.

a scoff falls from his lips, absolutely astonished by the harsh words you’d spat. in the three years of your relationship- you’d never exchanged any harsh words like this before..

yes, you fought and had disagreements with each other, like many healthy couples. but, it had never gotten to the point of any of you using condescending tones and sharp words.

from the beginning of your relationship, communication and understanding were always important values for you both. though with how busy the both of you had been lately, you barely had any proper conversations, let alone upkeep the values, that kept you so connected to each other.

“y/n!” jude calls out, placing his half-full glass next to the sink, before dashing up the stairs, behind you.

“where do you think you’re going? hey, finish the conversation!” he says, grabbing onto your hand, before you can enter your shared bedroom, and can slam the door in his face.

“you don’t even care about what I say- so what’s the point? we’ve practically been ignoring each other for the past few- whatever weeks! and now you decide, ‘let me spend the day off with mates, and not my girlfriend- who I’ve been neglecting for so long’.”

you take a deep breath, trying to control your breathing as you spill all your thoughts and emotions.

jude’s body goes rigid, the grip on your hand slipping away. making your hand fall back against your side. his thoughts and rationality swirl through his brain, and he can only let out a sigh.

“you know, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just trying to have some fun, am I not allowed to have fun?” the words spill from his mouth before he can register them fully, and he almost clasps a hand to his mouth.

the words raise your blood pressure, and you feel the urge to scream at him becoming bigger.

“of course, being with your girlfriend of three years is so boring.. you need a new bitch to entertain you, so can have your ‘fun’. you don’t need a girlfriend who’s moved her entire life for her boyfriend. moved universities, left family behind- okay, jude.”

your breath hitches, tears of both anger and sadness threatening to fall. wet eyes staring up at your boyfriend’s chocolate brown ones.

“y/n-”

he begins, but you don’t spare him a single extra look, before stepping into your shared bedroom, and slamming the door in his face.

“leave..” you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

you jump into your bed, bringing the covers up to your chest and place your head on your pillow. jude’s side empty, just like it had been often lately.

you rub your eyes, allowing the tsunami of tears to overtake your emotions. crying for minutes on end.

you feel both relieved and horrible. glad you could finally let the emotions eating up at you, for the past few weeks out. horrified, because you had just both yelled at your boyfriend and accused him of doing the most trust-breaking thing ever..

you sob until your eyes are red, and swollen. eventually falling asleep from exhaustion and energy loss.

you only wake up a couple hours later, feeling something cold and wet on your skin, mainly your forehead. opening your eyes, you’re immediately greeted by jude, sat next to you on the bed.

his eyes are mirroring yours, swollen and dark circles more pronounced than ever.

it’s obvious he’d been crying, and his attire had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

he hadn’t gone out..

you shift your head away from his touch, only to realize he’s holding a wet cloth to your forehead.

“baby..” he breathes out, concern etched into his face, he leans down. other hand placed on your cheek. you don’t respond, waiting for your boyfriend to speak first.

“you’re burning up..” he finally says, lifting up the cloth before dipping it into a bowl on your nightstand. he squeezes the water out, wiping down the rest of your face, before placing the white cloth back onto your forehead.

“and- I’m sorry, I just need you to know that, while I try to keep your fever down. I’m sorry, darling. we’ll talk about it in a minute, I promise. you just let me take care of you..” he trails off, thumb caressing the soft of your cheek, before wiping down your face again.

“I’m- I have a fever?” you finally say, shifting and trying to sit up.

“yeah, must be from all the stress or something..”

the words are said quietly, laced with guilt and an apologetic tone.

it doesn’t take much longer, and you’re almost feeling suffocated due to the tense and awkward atmosphere. having enough, you bring your hand up to grab onto jude’s hand, stopping him mid-wipe.

“jude..” you begin, sitting up quickly, before he makes you lay back down. you grab the cloth out of his hand, throwing it into the bowl next to you.

“I’m sorry as well..” you can already feel the tears prickle in your eyes, and you clench your jaw, making your temples hurt.

“I yelled at you instead of talking normally, and- accused you of-”

you choke on your sobs, not being able to finish your sentence, before you feel jude’s strong arms wrap around your back.

he brings you closer, slightly cold hands touching your burning skin.

“no, I’m sorry, baby- don’t you apologize, hm..” he presses multiple kisses on your temple, fingers running up and down your back.

he allows you sob into his broad chest, touch and words comforting.

“I know you and I were super busy. but- I should’ve put in more effort to make plans, or even just make sure I gave you the attention and love you deserve, I’m sorry darling,.” his brum accent whispers into your ears, and you slowly calm down, hearing his words- made your feelings, feel valid.

“I unconsciously thought you’d be busy, so I made plans immediately without thinking of anything else..” he explains, hands running up and down your arms, finally rubbing circles on your elbows.

“I will never, ever in my life- for any other breath I take, hurt or ignore you like this..”

“I don’t ever want to make you feel unwanted or unloved. I love you baby, I’ve loved you since the moment you caught my eye..”

he leans back, wiping the remaining tears on your face, coming closer to place a kiss on your lips. not caring about the fact that you are sick..

“you got that, darling?” his voice sounds like honey, and you can feel your tears drying up slowly.

you nod, looking up and grabbing onto his hands.

“good, let’s lay back down, okay? you’re still burning up..” he helps you, chuckling when you grasp at his shirt, and bury your face into his chest again.

“you comfortable?” jude asks, running his hands down your side, and kissing your forehead.

you nod again, humming in response.

“okay, why don’t we lay down a little, and then we’ll have dinner, ‘kay?”

“deal..” you agree, soft touches lulling you back into a slumber, sweet words being whispered into your ear, helping you relax..

[lev1hei1chou]

Anesthesia Antics

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: Gojo feels loopy thanks to the anesthesia Masterlist Requests open!

"Y/N! I can see my hands!" Gojo's muffled voice, thick with gauze and anesthesia, echoed through the car as you helped him into the passenger seat. His normally sparkling blue eyes were half-lidded and glazed over, giving him a dazed and childlike appearance. He wiggled his fingers in front of his face as if they were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

"Yes, babe, you do have hands," you replied, trying not to laugh as you secured his seatbelt. You glanced at the nurse who had accompanied you both to the car, and she gave you a sympathetic smile.

"Just make sure he rests and doesn't do anything too strenuous," she advised. You nodded, thanking her, and shut the car door.

As you started the car, Gojo's head lolled to the side, and he stared at you with wide, wonder-filled eyes. "Y/N, you’re so pretty," he slurred, reaching out to touch your face. His hand fell short and landed on your shoulder instead, patting it clumsily.

"Thanks, Satoru. Just sit back and relax, okay?" You turned onto the road, keeping an eye on him in the rearview mirror. He kept gazing at you, a dreamy smile plastered on his face.

"Y/N, do you love me?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, as if it were a secret only the two of you could share.

"Yes, I love you," you replied, amused by his sudden need for affirmation.

"I love you too," he mumbled, his head nodding forward. Just when you thought he might fall asleep, he jerked up again. "Wait, are we going to fight curses? I'm ready! I can take them on!" He raised his fists, albeit weakly, and you had to stifle a laugh.

"No, no curses today. Just rest," you reassured him.

Gojo seemed to accept this, settling back into his seat. He stared out the window, and you could see the wheels turning in his foggy brain. "Y/N, the sky is purple," he announced solemnly.

"It's blue, sweetheart," you corrected gently.

He looked genuinely perplexed. "Are you sure? 'Cause it looks purple to me. Maybe... maybe it’s a special sky, just for us."

You smiled, shaking your head slightly. "Sure, Satoru, it's a special sky."

The rest of the drive was filled with similar proclamations. He told you how he could control the weather, that he was a superhero in disguise, and at one point, he even claimed he could talk to animals. "That bird just told me a secret," he whispered conspiratorially, pointing at an ordinary pigeon.

"What did it say?" you humored him, pulling into the driveway.

"It said I'm the best sorcerer ever," he said, his eyes twinkling with pride. "But don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret."

"Your secret is safe with me," you promised, helping him out of the car.

Once inside, you guided him to the couch and helped him lie down. He squinted up at you. "Y/N, I think I’m flying," he declared, his voice thick with drowsiness.

"That’s just the anesthesia talking. You're on the couch," you explained, brushing a stray hair from his forehead.

"Oh." He blinked a few times, then smiled lazily. "You’re really pretty, Y/N. Did I tell you that already?"

"Yes, several times," you replied, laughing softly.

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "Stay with me? I don't wanna be alone."

"I’m not going anywhere," you assured him, sitting beside him and gently rubbing his hand. His eyes fluttered closed, but he fought to keep them open.

"Y/N?" he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Satoru?"

"Will you marry me?"

You felt your heart skip a beat. Even in his medicated state, he managed to surprise you. "Ask me again when you're not high on anesthesia," you said, chuckling softly.

He pouted, looking as serious as he could in his condition. "I’m serious. I love you. And I want you to be my forever."

"I love you too, Satoru," you said, kissing his forehead. "Now get some rest."

Finally, his eyelids grew too heavy, and he drifted off to sleep, a content smile on his face. You watched him for a moment, feeling a surge of affection. With a final, gentle squeeze of his hand, you settled in beside him, snuggling close.

[starlightsalvatore]

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

i'm back !!! I needed to write a damon one-shot while I work on a new fic and this just tumbled right out of me lol

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: everything??? drinking, swearing, blood sharing, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v, a tiny bit of degradation?? this is self indulgant filth, seriously 18+ mdni

You ran a hand through your hair as you walked back and forth, unsure of what else to do with the restless energy surging through your system as you tried to fight one of your most basic, primal urges… hunger. Your fingers drummed against your thigh as you tried to focus on anything else, find something in your brain worth occupying your mind and switching course from the visuals running through your head. Your recent transition had been a shock to everyone, and Stefan had you on a tight leash to keep you in check… and you’d been on board, at first. You never wanted to cause harm, to be the reason someone else’s life ended, but with the itch in your veins threatening to undo you completely you couldn’t really find it in you to care anymore.

You heard your door push open and your head snapped up to see Damon walking in, two glasses and a bottle in his hand with an unamused expression, “if you don’t knock it off I’m going to have to replace the floor,” he said, setting everything on the dresser before pouring two generous cups of bourbon. 

“Not now, Damon,” you sighed, ignoring him entirely as your feet remained on course.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Not really,” you said as he shoved a glass in your hand, his eyes telling you to drink which you did… all in one gulp and he was a little surprised as he took it to refill. 

“Well, something’s gotta give,” he replied as you finished the second as quickly as the first. “At this rate the bottle will be gone in a minute and I’m not replacing original flooring.” He gripped your shoulders, halting your movements and you huffed, looking up at him.

“I’m hungry, Damon,” you said, as if it pained you to do so and he furrowed his brow.

“The freezer is full- oh,” he cut himself off, realizing that’s not what you meant as a smirk spread across his features. “You want your blood at 98.6,” he said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you.

“Will you cut it out?” You poured another glass, hoping at some point the alcohol would subdue your cravings but you knew that was about as likely as him leaving you alone, so you tried another angle. “I can’t… Damon, the blood bags aren’t doing it for me, I can’t think, I can’t sleep… will you please take me out?” For a moment you thought he’d say yes, revel in the opportunity to feed with abandon with someone else, but it wasn’t that easy.

“No can do, sweetheart,” he replied and your brows pinched. “I’ve got enough on my plate without you losing control and giving me more bodies to deal with.” He was right, there was too much going on and you spinning out wasn’t an option, but that didn’t make it any easier of an answer to tolerate. He gave you a once over, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to take you out… he would have loved to, but you were new and he knew you could eventually get to where he was, one day you’d be able to feed and leave them alive with no memory of what had happened, but that day wasn’t today, you had a long way to go and he couldn’t afford to have you slip up.

But… he couldn’t afford to have you slip up. One look told him you were wound tight, the diet Stefan had you on was restrictive, never enough to fully satisfy, and the less you drank the tighter you spun, threatening a catastrophic snap he could only assume was looming on the horizon with how frustrated you looked right now. He ran through his options, knowing letting you sit in this hunger any longer would result in a much bigger problem, but the only thing he could think of posed another set of issues and would lead to him teetering on the edge instead of you.

He let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and plucking the glass from your hands to discard on the dresser and you looked up at him questioningly, the invasion of space catching you by surprise. His normally bright eyes were dark and swimming with something you couldn’t understand, deep blue pools you found yourself getting lost in as you waited for him to say something. “You need to feed,” he said and your eyes fluttered shut just at the thought.

“I need to feed,” you whispered and he nodded, catching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head back up when you tried to look down and the action had your breath catching somewhere in your throat. 

“You still haven’t felt it, have you?” he asked, voice low and you shuddered. “What it’s like to sink your teeth into something…” you shook your head, Stefan hadn’t allowed you to drink anything that didn’t come from a cup. “Poor thing,” he chuckled, he could feel the tension radiating off you in waves, you were practically shaking beneath him as you fought to retain your grip on your sanity, on your control.

“Damon,” you sighed, eyes pleading and he just smiled as he gripped your hand and brought it up to his neck, the pulse beneath your fingers driving you wild. 

“When you feed you have to be careful… if you bite just along here,” he said, dragging your fingers along the vein, “you can control the flow. It doesn’t have to be messy,” he explained and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the subtle way his skin moved with each beat of his heart, the sight bringing the veins beneath your eyes to the surface, your fangs descending.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, noticing you trying to rein it in, and you were having a hard time focusing on anything with the way his hands were trailing up your arms, pulling you closer. “Go on,” he tilted his head just slightly, “give it a try.” he encouraged and this pulled your focus, eyes snapping to his as you tried to ascertain if he was being serious. You had a lot left to learn, but blood sharing was personal, and you knew that… but all you saw in those dark blue eyes was a fire simmering beneath the surface you were sure was a mirror image of your own.

You slowly reached onto your tiptoes, as if he were a deer in the woods threatening to startle and bolt, but the closer you got the harder it was to resist, anticipation burning through your veins at the prospect of giving in. Your fangs were tentative as they broke the skin just where he’d indicated, but the first drop of blood immediately made you feel dizzy and intoxicated… It wasn't enough. You quickly grew feverish, your hand wrapping around his throat as you surged forward, crashing into the wall behind you and he let out a grunt as his back collided with the hard surface, pinned in place as you fed.

“There you go… that’s it,” he said, leaning back as he relaxed and let you take what you needed. His arm snaked around your waist while a hand brushed the hair from your face, cradling the back of your head as warm blood radiated through your body. A soft groan fell from his lips as you drank from him, and the sound elicited an unexpected reaction from you, your hand tightening around his throat and your body pushing flush against his and despite everything in you telling you to continue, you forced yourself back knowing if you didn’t stop you’d bleed him dry. 

Your eyes were wild and satisfied as they met his, and he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the remnants and you were almost surprised when your lips wrapped around him, ensuring you didn’t waste a single drop. His smirk returned when he felt your tongue slide across his skin, “better?” he asked and you nodded, keeping him in your mouth for maybe a second longer than you needed to. The air was charged between you, you’d just crossed a line in the sand and you wanted to push a little further, go a little farther… 

Part of him knew he should put an end to this… stop before it went any further. He knew it before he’d even offered up a vein for you, he knew as soon as he did he’d be teetering on this ledge and he didn’t have that much self control when it came to you. Perhaps, if he really analyzed the situation, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind why you’d been so worked up, he knew what you needed and instead of letting you wreak havoc on the blood cooler he let you push him against a wall and take what you wanted, he let you feed from him in the most intimate way he could think of. 

And when you were looking up at him like that, eyes mischievous and holding an unspoken challenge with his blood still on your plump lips, who was he to resist? Your chest was heaving with anticipation as you waited for him to do something, anything, and the movement was so fast you almost didn’t register his hand curling around your throat, flipping you around and slamming you against the wall with such force you were sure you’d be dead if you were human. Your gasp of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, searing and frenzied as he connected your lips and kissed you with a hunger that rivaled your own only moments ago. 

You both fought for dominance, neither one of you willing to submit just yet but you were outmatched… he grabbed your wandering hands and pinned them above your head, grip so tight you whined as he kissed down your neck, biting into you the same way you’d done with him and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as he did. Your hips rolled forward and feeling his hardening length against you gave you the surge of confidence you needed to break your hands free, sliding down his chest to pull his shirt apart, buttons flying and clattering against the floor as you pushed the fabric over his shoulders. 

His lips were greedy across the expanse of your chest as he nipped and sucked the soft skin, tearing your shirt to shreds as he pulled it from you, a mess of fabric in your wake as you surged forward and pushed him into the wall opposite you, regaining your upper hand. Glass shattered on the floor around you as the force rattled the dresser but you couldn’t find it in you to care what had broken as your hands pulled his belt free, fingers quickly undoing the button as you sank to the floor and pulled his jeans with you.

His length stood erect in front of you and you were quick to take him in your mouth, focusing your tongue on his swollen tip as your hand worked what didn’t fit, and you couldn’t help but moan around him at the groan that fell from his lips, “such a good girl,” he cooed, his sweet words undercut by the harsh hand in your hair gripping and pulling you closer, forcing you to gag around him and the sensation had his head falling back against the wall. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sharp pain in your scalp and the way he was hitting the back of your throat, but all you could focus on was the throbbing between your thighs and he didn’t miss the way you clenched them together, desperate for friction. 

You were quickly on your back, too caught up in the moment to bother moving to the bed and you pushed glass aside as he settled between your legs, tearing your underwear off and diving in like a man starved and you could feel his smirk against you at your surprised moan, head hitting the floor as your back arched in pleasure. He switched between your clit and your entrance, not giving either attention long enough to give you what you really needed, and you whined as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging harshly.

“Damon, please,” you sighed, hips bucking against his face and he focused his attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue expertly working you up as you shamelessly moaned his name. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew with the way you kept slamming each other against walls and the floor, the breaking glass, and the sounds falling from both your lips someone might come to make sure you were alright, but you couldn’t find it in you to care… not when he felt as good as he did between your legs. 

Your moan changed in pitch when he slid two fingers into your entrance and it went straight to his cock, his head swimming as he watched you come close to falling apart above him. When he crooked his fingers just so your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him closer as you started to grind against him, “fuck, just like-” you were cut off by your own moan when he started massaging that spot inside you, legs trembling as you careened off the ledge. His touches remained merciless as pure euphoria surged through your veins, your head cloudy as your body trembled. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against you, kissing his way up your body and you tugged him closer to reconnect your lips, tongues swirling against each other as you tasted yourself on him. His hands felt greedy and possessive as they roamed over you, gripping tight enough to leave bruises that would heal before they even had a chance to form, and it was as if neither of you could get enough. You pushed forward, tugging him up with you and all but throwing him onto the bed and his smirk was devilish as he watched you crawl on top of him.

He looked like he was about to say something but you didn’t give him the opportunity as you kissed him, rough and demanding as your hips settled above his, hand reaching between you to line him up at your entrance and you both let out groans as you took him inch by inch. The stretch was sweet, filling you almost to your breaking point as you settled fully and started to roll your hips against him, shuddering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned as you started to bounce up and down, setting an unforgiving pace and you felt like you could feel him everywhere, every nerve ending radiating with fire. He sat up to wrap his arms around you, hips bucking to meet yours in a way that had your head rolling back and he took the opportunity to sink his teeth into your neck and you had never felt pleasure like this before. His hand was firm around your throat as your body shook with each thrust and soon you were boneless in his lap, only able to hold yourself upright as he drank you in. 

When he pulled back you licked along his lips, face changing at the taste of blood and he swore he’d never seen anything sexier. Neither of you was going to last much longer, not like this, and he delivered a rough smack to your ass that had you whining and rolling against him. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, letting your forehead fall against his and he smacked again, gripping the tender skin, “Damon-” you tried, but nothing would come out.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he teased, gripping your hair and pulling you back to look at him, “oh, look at you… all cock drunk and fucked out,” he teased and you had nothing to say as a firm thrust had you seeing stars. You buried your face in his neck, fangs sinking into his skin as you felt your release barreling towards you, the mixture of blood and his steady thrusts too much to bear and a streak of red trailed down your body as you came, only able to shout his name as you cried out.

Your grip on him was maddening, pulling him right over the edge with you as you milked him for everything he had, and when you both slowed to a stop you were having a hard time catching your breath, your mind floating somewhere above you as you tried to return to your body. You felt his tongue along your chest, cleaning up your mess as you leaned back and he tried to commit the sight to memory… your hair wild, cheeks flushed, and skin dewy as blood lingered along your skin. 

You still weren’t fully with him, stuck in a haze as you felt him whisk you into his bedroom, and into the bathroom and it wasn’t until you were under the stream of water with him that you hummed contently against his lips as he kissed you softly, “there she is,” he chuckled.

His hands were delicate as they roamed you, and yours slid down the front of his chest as you looked up at him, doe eyed and happy. “That was…” you trailed off, unsure of what word to use to fully sum it up and he placed another soft kiss on your lips.

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” he provided and you laughed as you swatted his chest. 

“Hush,” you replied, feigning annoyance but you didn’t have it in you to feel anything other than bliss. The rest of your shower was spent with wandering hands and sweet kisses, a stark contrast to how rough and domineering you’d been with each other and when he pulled you into bed and wrapped himself around you, you looked up at him as your fingers trailed along his chest absentmindedly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and you flushed slightly under his gaze.

“It was more than I dreamed of,” you answered, and he raised a brow in question. “I haven’t… I hadn’t done that since turning, I didn’t know it could be like that,” you explained and realization passed over his features.

“My god,” he chuckled, “no wonder you were wound so tight.” His hand on your back was comfortable, holding you tight against him as he rubbed soothingly, “we’ll go on a little trip this weekend,” he said as you rested your head on his chest.

“A trip?” 

You felt him nod, “away from all the chaos here… we’ll find you some warm bodies and I’ll teach you how to do it the right way, you don’t have to live a life of blood bags forever.” 

“I don’t know, you seemed to do the trick,” you teased and he laughed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re missing.” 

[seresinhangmanjake]

Overprotective

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

Summary: Your son is due to be born any day now and Feyd is very protective. He kills anyone who so much as lays a finger on you, but it’s gotten out of control. 

Notes: this was an anon request. same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. *can be read alone*

Warnings: mention of murder and pregnancy. 

Words: 1100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

“You’re mad,” Feyd says, his smile dropping at the sight of your frown. Your arms are crossed over your swollen belly as you lean back against the headboard of your bed. He closes the door behind him. “Why are you mad?”

You roll your eyes. He knows exactly why you’re mad. By your count, you’ve been pissed at him twenty-three times in the past month and a half and you don’t care for your widely-known highly-intelligent husband playing naive. “Don’t act like you don’t know. We only ever fight about one thing, Feyd. One.” 

Feyd sighs and steps closer to the mattress, but when you put your hand up, he stops in his tracks. Your throat strains as you swallow your grin. You still get little flutters in your belly when he demonstrates how you have that kind of power over him, but you cannot let him see the satisfaction on your face now. If he sees you smile, he will smile, which means you will have lost because he’ll know he’s won, and when he wins he gets turned on, so then you’ll get turned on, and then you’ll end up fucking. But you cannot be fucking right now. He needs to learn a lesson. His hard dick in his wife’s warm pussy will not achieve any lesson-learning. If anything, it will encourage his bad behavior. 

“You killed another one,” you tell him, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed; though that’s far from surprising.

Feyd crosses his arms over his broad chest. “He touched you.”

“I tripped.”

“And then he touched you.”

“He caught me.”

“So you agree,” Feyd says with a sharp nod. “I’m glad we are on the same page.”

Your huff descends into a groan as the heels of your palms press against your closed eyelids. “Your wife—your heavily pregnant wife—would’ve fallen on her ass if he hadn’t.”

“He shouldn’t have let you trip in the first place,” Feyd tells you. “He was meant to ensure you have a clear and safe walking path.”

Your lips part, mouth opening and closing and opening again as you search for a response. However, you end up with the same one you always do: “You are unbelievable,” you reply, shaking your head. “Twenty-three servants, Feyd! It has surpassed extremes! You killed one for brushing my hair–”

“Touching—and she was pulling on it too hard.”

“You killed one for helping me dress in the morning when you had already been called away for a meeting.”

“I prefer you naked anyway,” he says, shrugging, a smug grin stretching across his face. “Naked and in this bed.”

You raise a brow. “And the one who helped me sit down so I could watch you in the arena?”

“Ah, that one—” Feyd waves his finger as he clicks his tongue “—that one thought I wouldn’t notice because you were so high up in the stands. I don’t like sneaky people,” he reminds you, though you’re plenty aware of how he handles deception and trickery. “You should have told me you planned to attend and I would’ve helped you well before it started.”

Ignoring his point, you retort, “You cannot keep killing everyone.”

Feyd groans. “My love, you’re in too delicate a state,” he says. “I gathered all of them together not two months ago and explicitly forbade them from laying a finger on you. It is not my fault if they break the rules. And what sort of Baron am I if I do not enforce punishment?”

You hum in dissatisfaction. “You do understand you put me and your child in more danger by not permitting their assistance?”

Immediately, his brow pinches. His head turns to look away from you and when his jaw clenches, you realize the weight of your mistake. A sickening feeling settles in your gut. Your face falls from frustration into total devastation. “Oh God, Feyd…”

“I do not put you in danger,” he says, and it’s so shockingly meek that your heart cracks right down the middle. Not once in almost two years have you heard that tone leave his mouth, and you think maybe his eyes have become glassy, but you’re praying it’s a trick of the low lighting in your bedroom. Feyd has never cried in front of you, if he's ever cried at all, and you hope you didn’t just unfairly yank that vulnerability out of him. 

“I’m so sorry. That isn't what I meant,” you whisper, sinking into your shame. You know it’s such a sensitive topic for him and you spoke without thinking. You reach your hand toward him. “Come here….please.”

Feyd stares at you for a long moment, but then he sighs through his nose and walks over to sit at your side atop the mattress. No tears—your breath shudders in relief. One hand grasps his and your lips brush his knuckles. The other cups his cheek as you guide his forehead to rest on yours. 

“You protect me,” you swear to him. “No one could ever keep me safe the way you do, and I know that's all you want, but our son is coming soon. We will need help. I can’t birth this baby without a doctor and that doctor will have to touch me. Me and our son.”

The heat of Feyd's heavy breath warms your face. You wait for his response but he doesn’t have one, and instead, he shifts to lie down. You adjust your body until you’re flat on the mattress beside him. “Sometimes,” he starts as he rubs his palm over your stomach, “I have dreams about the three of us living elsewhere. Everyone is forced to leave us alone and all we have to care about is each other and our child.”

Feyd kisses your exposed shoulder, and in that moment, you’re reminded of how different he has become. He’s transformed from someone whose sole ambition was to be the Baron—a man driven to control this planet and have the people of Giedi Prime bow to him; a man who sought destruction and pain and power—to a man who secretly craves a bit of peace for his family. Though no one other than yourself sees this side of him, it’s hard to watch him tackle that burden, especially when you know you’re the responsible party. 

“What have I done to you, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen?” you mutter as you press your lips to his forehead. 

He chuckles lowly and hugs you into his body. “You turned me soft.”

“You kill servants without batting an eye.”

“Fine,” he relents. “As soft as I’m capable of being.”

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[I only have 30 pounds in my bank account] - Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader, but only Soap and Ghost in this chapter unless I extend this

chapter 2

You’re just trying to fulfill your dream, plus survive with the money you earn with your shop, but you start questioning if this is a good idea, maybe you should just listen to your friend and be a 9-5 worker, sitting in front of a laptop the whole day.

This isn’t a good location to open a tea shop, your little shop will rather become a place for dealing drugs or getting extorted in the first month. The area is fully ruled by the mafia, hence the cops couldn’t do anything here, but it makes the rent extremely low, which you’re able to afford with money you saved during school, and have a tiny shop that can barely squeeze in more than 8 people.

Looking at the scene playing in your shop for the fifth time this month, you stare at the people fighting and break the cup with dead eyes. You want to shout, to kick these guys' ass out of here or hit them with your broom, yet you glance at their muscles and the knives in their hand –  probably killing every day as work out, to your opposite one because you slump onto the bed once you close the shop and go upstairs, you choose to remain silent as the yelling only become louder.

Maybe you should find the mafia boss or some henchmen and give them half of your income to prevent the mayhem, but first, you don’t even know who actually rules this fucking place; second, you doubt they will have interest in your skimpy bank account. The only information you have is the mafia ruling here called ‘141’, since it’s an open secret to residents here.

“What are ye arseholes doin’?”

Fuck, here comes another one, or two as you spot the man with a balaclava behind the mohawk man who's speaking. They are tall, muscular and built like bricks. Grown like giraffes either, you complement when you need to crook your neck up to look at them stepping into your shop as if it's their backyard.

but the chaos halts immediately as you watch your ‘customers’ seem shocked with terror at the men.

You pretend you’re deaf and attempt to bury yourself in your counter. Please don’t kill me I didn’t hear a goddamn word and didn’t see you threatening them. You recite your defense as you scrub at the same tea cup till the distinct accent from the mohawk man catches you off guard that you almost drop it.

“I guess it’s already clean, lass.” A smirk appears on his face as he points at the cup.

“Wh– what do you want?” 

“Calm down, jus’ want te have some tea.”

“I only have 30 pounds in my bank account.”

“We’re just sayin’ we want tea.” The taller man speaks for the first time after coming in, and it startles you but forces your brain to function at the same time.

Ah, they aren’t here for money. You finally get what they’re talking about.

“Isn’t it supposed te be a tea shop here? One cup for him, and give me a cup of coffee.”

“Oh, of course. What kind of tea would you like, Sir?” You shift slightly to meet the other man’s eyes, and you want to shiver under his cold eyes.

“Just give him whatever you recommend.” 

They round over the glass scattering on the floor and take a seat closest to your counter after you nod at them.

While boiling the water, you sneak a glimpse at them, and the shape of guns covered by their clothes are unignorable as you scold yourself to stop looking at them, or the bigger guy might stab your eyes, but you still curse whole-heartedly in mind when the Scottish accent man meet your eyes with his azure ones and shines you a grin.

Should just quit staring, or you shouldn’t open this shop at all. Regretting your decisions as you turn back and focus back on making their drink, you’re able to recognize them staring at you from the periphery of your vision. Is it too late to kneel down and beg for your life right now?

You still perfectly make their orders and bring them the drinks, even though you’re sweating internally. At least don’t mess it up, and your confidence in your tea and coffee isn’t born from nothing, as you notice the man with the skull balaclava takes a sip first, then raises his eyebrow, added with a side glance at you.

“Haven’t seen him amazed by tea in years, it must be very good.” The mohawk man whistles as he sips at his coffee and gives an approving nod too.

“Thank you…” Your ego shouldn’t be boosted by mafias, but you still relax a bit knowing you didn't screwed up.

“When did ye open ‘is shop?” The man asks while the other continues drinking his tea, but seemingly taking in the conversation too.

“About two months ago."

"That’s why we didn't know about it before…” He taps at the table twice before shooting you another question “Got blokes like those in yer shop earlier often?”

Death sentence is served to your front, that’s what you think you hear. Is it better to say yes or no? Judging by the fact those people are their minions, you’re not sure if saying yes is indicating they haven’t controlled them appropriately.

“Tell us the truth” 

“Yeah, it’s the fifth time this month.” Swallowing, you confirm. Lies aren’t meaningful, and surely they’re able to pierce any veil with those scrutinizing stares and keen minds.

You watch them sharing a glance, and Soap takes out a pen along with a piece of paper, and starts scribbling on it.

“Here, call this number when you run in trouble, aye?" He shoves the paper into your grasp “I’m Soap, call him Ghost.”

"It’s a nice shop, we’ll come back soon.”

Your little shop drops into peace again as your customers leave, and you gaze at the generous tip lying on your counter, to the paper in your palm.

A number is written on it, with a big badge of ‘141’ beside it.

Oh shit, so your shop just became the most far-flung mafia’s property without you knowing.

[hotchfiles]

— help me hold onto you • aaron hotchner

fem!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, a bit of angst.

      He knew he would be in trouble whenever he turned those keys. What he wasn’t expecting was how big the trouble would be. He had no idea he would open the door to three bags full of clothes and other things he left at your place as the months passed, waiting for him.

      “Darling? What–What are these?” He asks even though he knows the answer, hoping you want to at least talk about it before making any harsh decisions. You’ve been in a relationship for almost a year now and it works. It always worked.

      Normally you wouldn’t drink before an argument, still when he gets to the kitchen he sees you calmly sipping on a tall glass of wine, fingers tapping on the table, hair up, face clean but red, you were in your pajamas already, nothing like you probably looked hours before.

      “What’s the only thing I asked of you, Aaron?” You don’t move, don’t glance up at him, eyes focused solely on how the purplish red liquid moved in your glass, taking a big sip right after.

      Aaron sighs in frustration, he didn’t want this to become a fight. He was so tired. “I know, I’m sorry–”

      “Answer the question, please.”

      “Don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He takes his tie off quickly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the fabric surrounding his neck. That’s why your relationship worked, you knew he was busy and his schedule was unpredictable, so very early on you accepted it as it was, saying you wouldn’t be mad at him as long as he didn’t break any promises. If you’re not sure, don’t promise me you will be able to make it.

      First months he wouldn’t promise you anything, too afraid to break it, to disappoint you.

      He watches as you take the wine in a mouthful and refills the glass, the bottle now empty and starts getting frustrated, you’re a loud drunk and you’re surely already getting tipsy.

      This was the first time he slipped up, it didn’t need to be such a big deal, it didn’t avail to having his things right at the door as if he was getting kicked out. All the other times he promised he could take time off, he did it. Just–Teens were getting kidnapped, the team needed him.

      “We saved two girls today.” Low blow. But it was true, he wasn’t back in time because of that, he got on the jet instead of staying back to do that. To save two thirteen year old girls. Not some futile reason. It had to count for something.

      “I’m proud of you for that, Aaron. Are you proud of me? For the promotion we were supposed to celebrate with my boss? Or are our accomplishments only worth it when it’s about saving someone?” You raise your voice only slightly, the alcohol from the sweet wine getting to you slowly and then all at once.

      You always tried your best to keep your voice down when arguing with him, simply because he never raised his, and it could be an endearing feature if it didn’t look like he did it to look like the rational one, the right one.

      “That’s not what i said–”

      “I know what you said. You want to make the fact you let me down okay because you did a wonderful thing someplace else. That’s not how it works.” You open the second bottle of wine of the night, feeling his eyes on your back. “I want you to leave.”

      “You know this is ridiculous, you’re acting like a child.” Sore spot. You were a few years younger and that had never been a problem. But he couldn’t go back now, he could see the anger darkening your eyes, your knuckles turning white by the strength you’re using to grip on the edge of the table.

      “How am I a child?” You begin slowly and keeping your voice down, you get up finally from the chair you had been sitting, facing him directly, his instincts make him try to touch your arms, but you dodge it quickly. “We had an agreement. You broke it. Am I a child for not giving you permission to hurt me again?”

      He knows you’re about to snap, your chest coming up and down in rapid breaths, and he doesn’t feel particularly in the right, he knows he screwed up and he’s sorry, but your reaction is out of proportion to him, an exaggeration made to make him feel more guilty than he already does. “I said you’re acting like a child. The one time things don’t go your way and you’re packing me out?” Aaron almost feels the sharpness of a slap but he’s quick enough to grab your wrist. “See? proving my point.”

      “How many times do I have to accept you screwing up so I can be seen as mature?” You yank your arm out of his grip and go back to your drink, “Same times as Haley? How many times did she forgive you so you could go around and do it all again?”

      Lower blow.

      Hotch feels it right in his core and he’s angry at you for bringing up but more so angry at himself because you were right. Still, it is anger nonetheless that guides his next actions, quickly and firmly walking up to you, caging you against the table in sudden movements.

      Your breath hitches from the surprise, and your attempt to move is stopped by his roughed hands on your chin, firm but never close to hurting. “I’m not leaving.” You wince, not in fear of him, but of how easy he can make your mind go blank when he’s that close.

      His eyes go from your eyes to your lips, he notices your failed attempt to conceal the way you licked your lips, he glances at your chest, heavy breathing under your thin pajama shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric.

      Damn you for choosing wine.

      Hotch reads your mind almost, but his smirk doesn’t last too long displayed on his lips, your hands pulling him by the neck, a low groan followed by a “Fuck this” leaving your wine tasting lips just mere seconds before gluing to his.

      Eager to get your forgiveness, he is quick to follow your lead, both hands sneaking under your clothes, one down the waistband of your shorts, grabbing hard on the flesh of your ass, the other drawing soft circles on your nipple.

      You melt into the kiss, his lips, his hands, his scent, him. And you have no time to feel bad about it, pulled up to sit on the table, legs around his waist, you can feel how hard he is against your wetness.

      A pained whimper leaves his lips when you use the new position to grind onto him, needing something, anything against your clit at this point.

      Aaron sinks his teeth into your bottom lip to get your full attention, earning a loud moan in response, his hands travel your thighs and you pull his shirt out his pants so you can feel his skin under your fingertips, not bothering to unbutton them and working with what you got under it.

      His lips travel your neck and your collarbone, “I love you, so, so much”. His declaration comes in between kisses and the sucking of your skin, “Please don’t make me leave after this.” It comes in a whisper now, but he doesn’t stop, pushing your shorts down and sliding it down till it drops to the floor with your help.

      “Just shut up and take your pants off.”

      “You know I can only do one of those.” It makes you laugh and you sink your nails to the bit of fat on his side, the tiniest bit of annoyance at how easy he had you in the palm of his hand and how he didn’t even seem to know it truly.

      On the edge of the table sliding his hard cock into your folds was an easy feat, pants, shoes and his boxers long gone, his socks stayed on almost making him lose balance as he feels just how wet you are. He drops his head, forehead on your shoulder

      “Fuck—Oh my god, you are so wet, you’re always so wet for me.” It isn’t arrogant, it’s appreciative almost, you move his head so you can look at him, hot, sweaty already, cheeks so red as his eyes were glassy, the mix of lust and love and regret clear in his dark caramel irises.

      You kiss him once more, sweet, forgiving and he takes this as his sign to continue, pushing you down the table, Hotch holds your thighs for support, plunging his cock into your wet cunt with ease, bottoming out at the first thrust. You enjoyed the stretching pain and you never had the patience to wait.

      Lower lips between your teeth, you slide one of your hands to your clit, two fingers working your arousal, quickly replaced by Aaron’s calloused fingers. You arch your back and moan loudly, “Fuck, yes, and move.”

      It feels like an order and for Hotch it is one, he is delighted to oblige, maintaining the same finger moves on your clit and beginning to fuck your pussy, strong, firm and precise at first.

      “Honey, fuck—Please…” His begging is meant to warn you that if you keep clenching around him he won’t be able to control himself, you almost don’t listen, fingers working on your own nipples enjoying the high he is always able to get you in.

      “Aaron—I’m… Fuck, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

      The praising, the guidance, the reassurance, it makes the moans leaving his lips seem like whining, he enjoys it too much.

      “Yeah? Like this?” The way your hands try to grab him is enough answer to him, along with how tight your pussy is throbbing against him, you’re almost there, he can feel it.

      His movements on your clit get sloppier, the sight and sound of your wetness against his digits making him go insane. Your back arches once more and your whole body begin to squirm, the tight coil in your lower belly finally ripping, “Yes, fuck—“ You’re breathless, weak, but you still have it in you to edge him in, “Aaron, baby, cum for me, please.”

      He would be crazy to do anything but, so quickly you ask him and his hands are hoisting both your legs over his shoulders, getting a new, deeper position, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him filling you up, “I can’t live without you, you’re so, so good for me” His lasts broken words before letting himself go.

      You don’t move and neither does he, his dick softening inside you, his hands caging you in the table and his head dropped to his chest, both just trying to recover.

      “Aaron?”

      “Yes, sweetheart?”

      “You can stay.” He looks at you with nothing but love and happiness and gratitude, “But if you screw up again do not try fucking me into forgiving you, I’ll chop your dick off.”

      “You like it too much to do that.” His grin is sincere, feeling finally free to joke around you, he gets out of you and you whine at the loss. “See?”

      “Bite me.”

      “Gladly.”

[loulovingho]

The Fight

Tommy calmed himself before he walked into the station. Closed his eyes and did the breathing technique he'd learned in therapy years ago.

They needed to talk about this. He couldn't handle it if something happened during Buck's shift and the last words they had spoken to each other were in anger.

He spotted Buck fairly quickly. He was in the middle of a workout, sitting on a bench and lifting weights. Although it looked like he was mostly talking to Eddie.

Eddie, who was standing in front of him, nodding his head as Buck spoke.

Eddie eyed Tommy first. “Buck,” he said in the middle of Buck's rant.

“-and I- I don't think that's fair, Eddie. It's not fair of him to- to treat me like I'm a child-”

“Buck,” Eddie repeated, louder this time.

Buck groaned. “What?”

Eddie pointed behind him. “Tommy.”

Buck froze, then slowly turned to see Tommy standing behind him, staring at him. After a brief glance, Buck cast his eyes downward.

“Hey, man,” Eddie greeted. Buck rolled his eyes.

“Hey, Eddie,” Tommy replied. “Mind if I talk to Evan for a second?”

“Nope. I'll be upstairs.”

Tommy watched as Eddie headed upstairs, waiting until he was out of earshot to turn back to Buck. “What are you doing here, Evan?” he asked.

Buck placed the weights he had resting on his thighs down on the ground. “Working.”

“Your shift doesn't even start for another twelve hours.”

Buck got up and began placing weight plates on the barbell. “I asked Bobby if I could do a twenty-four instead. He said yes.”

“You literally told me two days ago that they weren't allowing overtime right now.”

“Did you really come all the way here to keep fighting with me?”

“First of all, I'm not the one who started the fight,” Tommy said, stepping closer, “and I'm not the one who can't look their boyfriend in the eyes.”

Buck stopped messing with the barbell and glared up at Tommy. His eyes were red, although Tommy couldn't tell if it was from crying or rage. “Better?” he asked bitingly.

“Yeah, actually, it is. It's a great improvement from you walking out on me this morning.”

Buck crossed his arms defensively. “There wasn't anything left to say.”

“I strongly disagree. We've both talked about this before, Evan. How you don't like the feeling of people walking out on you. How it scares you, makes you worry. Did you forget I told you the same thing? How it reminds me of what my dad did to my mom and me over and over again?”

Tommy swore he could see a twinge of guilt flash through Buck's eyes, but it was quickly replaced with more anger.

He moved closer to Tommy. “I wasn't going to sit at your place and be berated for however long you decided to yell at me-”

“I was not yelling.”

“-for doing my job.”

Now it was Tommy's turn to fill with a new wave of rage. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it back, pursing his lips as he thought over his words. “You were not doing your job, Evan,” Tommy spoke slowly, carefully. “You made a bad decision that could have gotten you killed.”

Buck scoffed. “Danger is part of the job, Tommy. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

Tommy felt like pulling his hair out. They'd had this whole argument a few hours earlier. No matter what he said, he couldn't seem to get through to Buck. “You ran into a burning building without your gear, Evan! There were other firefighters there, but you just ran in! You could have died!”

“But I didn't! God, Tommy, you're acting like I'm a baby! I've been doing this for years; I know what I'm capable of!”

Tommy brought a hand to his forehead, pressing against his temple. This was pointless. “I don't even know why I came here,” he said with a shrug. He gave Buck one last glance before turning to leave.

“Still don't know why you're angry at me for saving someone's life!” Buck called out to him as he headed for the door.

The words made Tommy turn on his heels. “You really don't know why I'm angry with you?!” he asked. The question came out harsher than he intended.

Buck stood his ground. “No, I don't!”

“Unbelievable!” Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “Because I love you, Evan!” he exclaimed. “I love you so damn much! So, yeah, it makes me a little angry when I see that you aren't in this as much as I am. That you don't love yourself enough to care if you come back home!”

Buck felt like his heart was beating out of his chest. It took him a second to find his voice again. “You... You love me?”

“Of course I do, Evan.” Tommy spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Have for quite a while now.”

Buck moved closer to him. “You don't think I- I'm in it as much as you?”

Tommy let out a deep breath. “I didn't mean it like that,” he said, his voice calmer now. “I just meant... I always try my damndest to make it back to you, every shift. Every call I go on, you're in the front of my mind. Be safe for Evan, stay focused for Evan, make it home because Evan will be there waiting. And I don't expect you to love me back or anything like that, but it would be nice to know that you try to make it home to me too.”

“I do,” Buck replied earnestly. “I do try, Tommy. I- I, when I was on that call, I ran back in because of you.”

Any anger left in Tommy's body was replaced with confusion. “What?”

“The guy I went in for, his- his boyfriend was yelling for him. He was panicked, like he- he would go insane if something had happened to him. All I could think about was you. How I'd go crazy if you were in a burning building and I- I couldn't get to you. I couldn't think of doing this life without you, Tommy. So, I ran in. And, I mean, you can ask Bobby, I'm not careless like that anymore, not like I used to be. And I do love you, Tommy. I love you so much it scares me. I promise I'm in this with yo-”

Before Buck could even process it, Tommy had cleared the space between them. He brought his hands to Buck's face pulled him in for a kiss.

Buck couldn't help the surprised moan that escaped him as Tommy pressed himself even closer. Buck grabbed onto Tommy's shirt, tugging on it like he was desperate for more.

It wasn't until tongues got involved that there was the sound of a throat being cleared behind them.

They stopped, both breathing heavily, then turned back to see the rest of the team watching them from upstairs.

“I knew you two lovebirds would work it out," Eddie said with a smirk on his face.

Chimney sniffed, earning him looks from the others. “I'm a sucker for romance,” he explained.

“I tried to get them to back off,” Hen defended. “I mean, not very hard, but I did try.”

Bobby simply smiled down at them. “Buck, your shift doesn't start until tonight. Go home.”

And well, they weren't gonna argue with that.

[cow-smells]

Worth your While | Opla! Sanji x reader

Request: I've read that you are in the need for some Sanji request or ideas so here's one for a fic :D

The crew gets into a fight ( it can be the Navy or anither pirate crew) and the reader gets badly hit and Sanji just loses his shit seeing the person that he cared for the most getting knocked out?? I just genuinely wanna see Sanji just go ape shit on people because of it XD and maybe hiw the others in the clue will react to seeing Sanji like that? @smolracoon25

Summary: You and Sanji have been playing the flirting game for way too long. When you get injured, Sanji shows a side of himself you had yet to see.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

A/n: I'm going purely off the live-action so pls have that in mind, also I'm just getting back in to the rhythm of writing after such a long time so sorry if this is poop/ooc/both, love ya :)

Read on AO3

“Don't you ever take a break?”

Zoro's voice coming from behind startled you, forcing you to break your longing gaze at Sanji who was fishing at the bow of the ship. “Huh?” came your wise response.

Zoro looked from you to Sanji. “You've been making moon eyes at him for months now. Don't you get tired? Or are you waiting for him to take his shift staring at you so that you can clock off?”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. This was far from the first time crew members commented about you and Sanji's – whatever was going on between you two – but this was the first time Zoro called you out so blatantly.

When you didn't respond, Zoro went on. “I just came to tell you we should be docking soon. I'll leave you the pleasure of telling the cook.” with that, he left.

You closed the book on your lap. You really did have the intention of reading when you first head out to the deck, having some time to kill, but then... you noticed Sanji. At first you thought you'd go sit with him for a while, flirt and banter a little as you always do, but you found yourself absorbed in taking him in instead. He was different when he was alone. The way he looked so focused, so deep in thought when it was just him and the sea. Maybe even a little sad. So different from his usual sunny exterior that he put on when he was with people. Falling in to deep thoughts wondering what he might be thinking about – maybe about you? - you sat and stared, not reading as much as a word.

The book discarded, you felt a spring in your step as you made your way to the ship's chef.

The creaking floorboards alerted your arrival. Sanji turned to see who was creeping up on him, and when he saw you, he set his fishing rod aside as a wide smile grew on his lips, his dimples deepening and making your heart miss a beat. “There's my favourite girl. Come here, let me hear all about your day.” Sanji held his arms open, beckoning you to come sit on his lap.

The flirting was nothing new. When you first joined the Strawhats, Sanji was as flirty to you as he was to any other woman; he did not expect to meet his match in you. You were quick to play along, always one-upping him, dancing along the line that separated playfulness and seriousness, never quite picking a side.

The problem was, in reality, you had chosen a side long ago.

You would flirt and giggle and make him blush but never actually act upon anything. Neither would Sanji. He, however, took your playing along as though it was a battle to be won. Sanji would flirt, you'd reply with something raunchy, he would surprise you with something heartfelt. It was as though he knew exactly where to hit in order to get you a little closer to buckling, every time. As time went on he had become so devoted to your back and forth that you noticed he had gradually abandoned all other efforts flirting with other women, to focus entirely on you.

You had to remind yourself that this was a game to him. An instinct, almost. It hurt to think of your relationship that way, but you had to keep that thought at the forefront of your mind if you didn't want to fall even harder for him.

So you would continue to play along, even if that's all that you could have with him.

You chose not to indulge him completely – that was too dangerous for you – and so you opted to bend a knee over the armrest of his chair. Close, but no contact. “Come on, Sanji,” you bent your head in what felt like a bashful manner and said, “you know I spent all day thinking of you.”

You weren't sure if he was blushing or if that was just your wishful thinking. Composing himself, Sanji wrapped an arm around you to hold your waist, lightly tracing circles on your hip. “I beg of you, darling – next time, come find me instead of just thinking of me. I'll make it worth your while.”

You wanted to ask, how will you make it worth my while? Just to hear Sanji go in to detail of what you've been fantasizing about for months. But instead, you opted for a tamer response. “I came to tell you we're docking soon. Maybe I'll find you then and you could make it worth my while with a drink.”

Without missing a beat, Sanji took hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. “There's nothing I'd enjoy more.” With that, he kissed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

Docking started out normal. Everyone knew what their usual chores were when you reached a town, restocking and fixing so that the ship would be in top condition for its next leg of the journey in your search for the One Piece. So while Sanji went in to town to restock on groceries (you didn't pay much attention to the others), you, Nami and Usopp stayed around the ship to fix up some of the damage it took when you last encountered a rival pirate ship. That also happened to be the reason it was just you three when the same rival pirates noticed your ship docked, ready to take their revenge.

The three of you had your individual talents, but you just weren't enough to hold up against an entire rival crew. They had attacked so suddenly and so fiercely – it didn't take long before you were on the sand, fighting to stay conscious. You lost that fight as you watched Usopp try his best to fight off three attackers at once.

You really thought that would be the end for you. You should have known better; it was Sanji's voice you heard as you regained consciousness, motivating you to open your eyes despite the pain that flooded your body.

The beach area all around you was covered with pirates who were taken down, just like you – only that they were your enemies. You first noticed Nami's orange hair – she seemed to be taking care of a bleeding Usopp, his condition worse than yours. Following Sanji's voice, you found him holding the last one of the rival crew by his shirt, throwing punches like you've never seen him before. It took you aback – thinking about it, you had never seen Sanji use his hands in combat. Too precious – need them for cooking, he'd once told you before adding, the only thing more precious to me is you. It had made you blush at the time before you had laughed him off. Now, you were questioning if it was a joke at all.

The man Sanji was holding wasn't putting up a fight – he was far too battered for that, but Sanji didn't stop. He was too far away for you to understand what he was saying to the guy, but focusing hard, you could just about make out half sentences – "to hit a woman" – "don't deserve to breath" – "finish you" – you searched for the strength to get up and stop him. You had never seen Sanji – your happy, cheerful Sanji – so angry, feral even. It scared you a little; but mostly, you knew Sanji would regret it if he were to kill a man who no longer posed a threat. So you grasped at the sand, forcing your aching bones to pick yourself up. But as you were regaining your balance, Sanji finally threw the man to the sand, a look of disgust painting his handsome features. "Finally made a date with her and you ruined it... You hurt her. You're lucky I don't kill you." The man groaned in pain.

In a sharp change, his features went from anger to concern as he finally left the man and turned to where he last saw you laying. His eyes were full of honest pain, until he saw you on your feet – then they read of hope. "Y/n!" Sanji called, rushing to you as he could see your struggle to stand upright. "You- I-" he scanned your body as he reached you, taking in all visible injuries. "Are you – are you okay? Can I help you?" he reached an arm around your waist, waiting for your approval before he held on to help you stay up, so afraid he might hurt you.

"Thanks." his arm around you really helped you to stay up. It was a practical measure, sure, any one of your crew mates would do the same – but when you look up and meet Sanji's eyes, you know that the tense feeling between you two wouldn't have been replicated with anyone else. "I mean it. You saved us. We'd... I'd be lost without you." at that, Sanji smiled that deep-dimpled smile of his at you, the playfulness not reaching his still-concerned eyes.

"Y/n," he started. "are you really flirting with me, at a time like this?"

It was strange how despite all your injuries, you felt less and less of the pain the longer you leaned in to Sanji, close enough to smell his fragrance. A half-smile reached your lips. You couldn't play this game any longer. "Did you really beat that guy up that bad because he ruined what should have been our... date?"

Sanji tensed, obviously not ready to have this conversation now. His gaze dropped momentarily before he wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him. "I had a hundred reasons to kill him," Sanji said, and you felt disappointment bubbling through you until he continued, "but the most pressing reason is that he ruined our date."

Sanji took the opportunity to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and you couldn't help but smile so big you were embarrassed by it. "I really wanted that drink with you, away from the ship and everyone else. Just us."

You recomposed yourself. You needed clarity. "I'm not playing anymore, Sanji."

Sanji chuckled. "Fancy that. I was never playing at all."

You must have forgotten how to breath at all when he leaned down, his hand finding a rest on your neck as his thumb caressed your cheek. Nearly a whisper, he asked – "Can I kiss you?"

You leaning in served as the consent he searched for. After months of pining over each other, wondering what it would be like – his lips met yours, in a mixture of softness and passion like you'd never felt before. Forgetting you were injured at all you sneaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in, almost afraid of letting this anticipated moment of passion go. Sanji was more than happy to pull closer, a hand on your lower back holding you impossibly close to him.

The moment did, however, find its end as you heard your Captain whoop and holler from afar. "Yeah! Way to go, Sanji! About damn time!"

Breaking the kiss, Sanji nodded at Luffy, his smile lines prominent as he looked the proudest you'd ever seen him.

The crew was more than happy to make a quick exit that night, preferring to not stay around until the rival crew regained their strength. You were helping Nami untie the ropes anchoring the ship to the dock when she said, "I really thought he was going to kill him earlier." you didn't know how to respond. "I've never seen Sanji like that." Nami managed to untie a knot, and Zoro began pulling the rope up on to the ship. "He's really got it bad for you."

Despite that questionable context, you couldn't help but smile. In a burst of honesty you confessed; "I hope so, because I've got it real bad for him, too."

On cue, the ship's chef leaned over the ships railing, looking down to you. "Y/n, my love!" he called, as though the rest of the crew wasn't surrounding the both of you. "I hope you're finished down there, because I've got a candlelit dinner waiting for you up here. And drinks. You know, to make it worth your while," he finished with a wink.

From behind Sanji you could hear Luffy ask, "What about our dinner? Just because you're lovers now doesn't mean we don't need to eat..."

Sanji sighed and turned away from you, probably to go protect your dinner before Luffy demolished it.

"Right then, let's go," Nami said as you finished untying the last rope. "While there's still food to eat."

And for the first time, you boarded your ship not to find the One Piece or the All Blue – you were just happy to be there, with the man you loved.

[misshugs]

₂The Cameragirl² || snc

After an eventful night in the haunted asylum, you and the guys began looking at the footage, only for you to start making cocky remarks that might've set a spark you weren't expecting.

contains: just fluff and reader trying to be funny (but failing miserably), cheeky comments from reader, cursing, slight flirting? idk i suck at it

a/n: "part 2" of The Cameragirl, no need to read the first part though! but for context: you got choked by a ghost and you almost died but colby saved you by giving you mouth to mouth

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

word count: 2.3k

[u n e d i t e d]

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You don't exactly remember when you fell asleep, you're just sure that right after you fell on your bed you were knocked out.

It wasn't something that happened often, but boy you were tired due to last nights events. Beause of that and because of your commonly terrible sleeping habits, Sam and Colby didn't even want to bother you much.

They did however check on you after they woke up hours later, making sure you were still breathing. The experience has somewhat made them paranoid about what could happen to you.

Although they cleansed you before returning, they'd much prefer to be one hundred percent sure you were alright.

The problem was, you were a light sleeper. After they finished checking up on you, your eyes opened up slightly. Groaning a bit from the ache in your body from the fall you had a couple of hours prior. You stretched yourself nonetheless.

Yawning, you sat down and rubbed your eyes. Taking your phone from your nightstand, you looked at the hour. 01:17 PM. Sighing softly, you stood up and fixed yourself up before walking out of the room.

Looking around, you heard mumbling from the other room. It was the office. You walked inside and saw them both looking back at the footage.

You furrowed your brows. Usually, you were a part of this process. Why did they begin without you?

Since they haven't noticed you yet, you started walking closer without making any sounds. As quiet as you possibly could, you basically stood behind them, watching the footage.

"What're you doing?" You asked, gaining a scream from Sam and a jump from Colby, almost falling off the chair. A smile grew wide on your face after that reaction.

"Fuck! You scared me!" Sam exclaimed, putting his hand on his chest.

"Oh my god, my heart." Colby said, hiding his face in his hands.

"That's for beginning without me." You said, crossing your arms on your chest.

"You were sleeping so soundly after all that happened, we didn't want to disturb you. And... we were curious... sorry." Colby admitted. You sighed.

"It's alright, I guess. What's this part?"

"We just started watching the part where... it happened." Sam said, looking at you.

"Ooh, okay. Then go back, my head's a little fuzzy, I can't remember clearly what happened, I want to know." As you said that, they nodded and ran back the video.

You didn't miss much anyways. They rewined right when they began arguing about it not being a good idea and whatnot. They haven't seen the whole night or anything, they just skipped right to the end.

After the arguing and the preparation for everyone to go into their respective corridors, the challenge began.

They paused the video. "Even though it made sense, it was still strange for you to be so persistent about it, was it not?" Colby said, looking at you. "Also, can you please sit down? There's a chair right there. You're stressing me out."

"No." You quickly answered.

"Why?" He asked.

"I don't want to, it's my fight or flight mode. It's easier to run while standing up." You giggled softly, which gave them both a sense of peace that you couldn't even imagine.

You were their everything, and thinking that their everything could've ended up like that made them so overprotective that they would've absolutely slept with you that night... to keep you protected, of course.

"Also, my legs feel numb, I don't want to cut the circulation again, it felt weird last time." You admitted.

Sam quickly stood up, concerned. "Are you okay? Do you need an oxygen mask again or something?? Water?"

"Wha- no. Calm down. Jeez." You said, grabbing his shoulder and making him sit back down. "Anyways, about the video. Um... I do remember having this urge to do it. I don't think it might've been anything bad, but I did have this... feeling, I guess."

"Maybe it wasn't you?" Colby said, raising a brow. "Maybe something was making you feel that way, just so that you were left alone... like it happened." You thought about it.

"I... guess it's an option." You shrugged.

"It could've also been a possession. It is said that people tend to quickly switch emotions when one is possessed." Sam continued. "Or... it could've also been the fact that you were so indifferent about it all."

"I'm just used to it, it's not like I don't believe."

"Yeah, but since we were making our reactions so... extra in comparison, maybe the spirits were trying to target you?" Colby added.

"...yeah, it does add up. Well, continue. Let's see what truly happened. I genuinely can't remember." They nodded and the video rewined.

As you began walking through the corridor, you began to speak on the video, it was almost automatic when you heard your voice that you started whining. "Oh, fuck no. Nevermind. This is so cringe. I remember this."

They started laughing and kept on watching although you pleaded for them to skip it. You tried to stop it yourself but Sam quickly held you back, hugging you and your arms, unable to move.

You didn't have the strength at the moment to try and get out of his grasp, but you tried anyways.

Not like it mattered. Not like you minded, actually. In the way he was holding you back, he basically let you sit on his lap while watching.

You didn't mind at all.

"You guys know I suck at youtube, I was trying to be funny, it didn't work." You laughed a little bit while your voice also seemed on the edge of breaking, mainly fake crying.

"What do you mean? You did great." Colby said, hiding his smile underneath his hand. Listening to your cute attempts on making jokes. It melted him.

"I can see you trying not to laugh, Colby." You fake cried again.

"Whaaat? I would never." He said. Sam didn't hide anything. His smile only giving away how much he was actually enjoying this version of you. If only you were open enough for them to be able to record and replay more of this.

A couple of minutes into the video, you started panting, heavy breathing could be heard. It was when you began to explain that you could barely breathe. "It feels... hard to breathe." You said in the video, your lips visibly shaking.

As you began walking faster, you could see through the video that you stopped on you tracks. Blinking your eyes as you looked at, what you remembered to be, a figure.

You tried to breathe.

"Holy shit. Holy shit! Did you see that?" Sam said, letting you go and pausing the video and quickly going back a couple of seconds. You stood up from his lap to let him search quickly.

"What?" Colby asked. Confused, you got closer. He started playing the video once again, this time, slower. You could see the light on your neck moving.

"Holy fuck. Look at that. It looks as if something is like, pushing on your neck. Like pressing onto as if you're getting choked." Sam explains, pointing at the marks on your neck where there seemed to be a dent suddenly forming.

"Oh my god." You said as you touched your neck, remembering what happened barely a couple of hours ago. Colby had his mouth wide open after watching that.

"That's... that's poltergeist activity right there. It's undeniable." He said, looking at the both of you. You nodded, shocked at how much power this entity seemed to have. "We need to get you properly cleansed, we can't be having another demon up someone's ass." He contined, looking directly at Sam, who seemed offended. You chuckled.

As they continued the video, they heard the soft 'help' that you could barely spit out, your voice breaking in the midst of it. The quick movement of the camera as you turned around only to be thrown to the floor. Seconds later, watching as you tried to crawl back but your body seemingly giving up as quickly as you tried to do so.

It broke their hearts, even more so knowing you tried to scream for help. And so, the camera kept rolling for what felt like an eternity.

"How long did it took for you guys to come look for me?" You asked, seeing as the video kept going.

"So far, it's been five minutes..." Sam said softly, painfully watching the screen.

"Oh my god, I was dead for five minutes?"

"Don't say it like that." Colby looked at you, almost sad. Fear went through his body at the thought of not have gotten there on time.

"It is true though... oh, there are my heroes." They smiled softly as you said that. As you heard the conversation they had while you were unconscious, you scoffed. "You guys thought it was a joke?"

"Hey, listen. We've had our jokes and giggles with extreme pranks before, it could've been a possibility." Colby put his hands up in defense, looking at you truthfully. "Honestly, I was wishing it was."

"Sam. Call 911. This is real." Colby said on the video. Before you could completely understand what was going on, you saw him kissing you.

Well, saving your life, but touching lips nonetheless.

Your cheeks started switching colors. You obviously don't remember much, but your brain didn't thought about the fact he had to give you some oxygen back.

Your fingers touched your lips softly as you were watching. They seemed to be immerse on watching what happened, thankfully. You don't think you could handle their stares right now.

Trying to calm yourself down, you saw yourself waking up. No further from that, you saw as Sam helped you up for a split second before the camera was turned off.

"And that's the footage alright. Wow." Colby sighed and looked at Sam, and then at you.

"That was... something. I can't believe we caught that on camera... it's proof, yeah, but... you were seriously hurt." Sam says, looking at you. "Are you... okay with this?" He asked, you looked at him, confused.

"What? You mean for posting it? Oh yeah, I don't mind. Don't worry about it. I'm safe and sound anyways." You said, smiling as you put your hands on your hips.

"Just making sure you're okay with it." He said and you nodded, understanding his kind gesture.

"So..." You began, gaining the attention of them both. "Are you gonna keep the part where Colby kisses m- uh, gives me mouth to mouth?" You quickly correct yourself, trying to act cool. Not leaving your stare from the screen.

"What?" They smirked at your sneaky comment.

Fuck.

"What?" You asked back looking at Sam, seemingly ignoring their cocky smile as much as you could.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"If you're gonna keep the mouth to mouth on the video."

"Not that, when you stuttered." Colby obliged, making you nervous.

"...I said Colby?" You raised an eyebrow, looking confused although you perfectly knew what they were talking about. They shook their head.

"You know what we mean." Sam says, reclining back on his chair, getting comfortable as he looks at you, amused by the situation. Mimicking Sam's actions; Colby lied back, a hand underneath his chin, smirking back at you.

Like Gods. They looked like Gods.

It was driving you insane.

You sighed, "I'm just saying. A bit upset that that was my first kiss with any of you- I mean, not like I was... waiting for one anyways, of course. Ahem." You started mumbling at the end, looking away while scratching the side of your neck.

It wasn't anything strange for all of you to have some sort of stupid flirting in between conversations, but usually they were extremely noticeable jokes.

These? Oh. These weren't jokes. These were genuine mistakes.

And a part of you hated these silly accidents. Mainly because they knew.

"There seem to be a lot of mixed signs in what you're saying." Colby said, smiling at Sam then looking back at you. "I'm a bit confused in what to believe here."

You shrugged. "Believe what you want to believe, good sir."

"It's just that I don't know if we're on the same page, you know?" Colby continued, looking at Sam. "I only know he's with me."

"Oh, for sure." The sexual tension only filling the room even more. Usually, the jokes were seemingly too overboard and hence, you could tell they were that, plain jokes.

Usually.

Just like your silly little mistakes, these weren't jokes.

"And what does that mean?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, we know what we want. We don't know if it is what you want though."

You sighed heavily, seemingly loosing yourself for a moment as you whined. "Dear God, why are y'all so hot?" You looked up, dozing out of existence after thinking about their looks, their positioning, their everything.

.

.

.

Wait.

Wait.

WHAT DID YOU JUST THROW OUT OF YOUR MOUTH?

You accidentally said your thoughts out loud.

How does that even happen?!

When you realized what you've done, your eyes went wide, quickly looking at them. "Oh. Fuck. I didn't just- oh God." You didn't even wait to see their reaction as you began walking away. They quickly stood up, and you quickly sped up.

You started laughing but you were absolutely dying inside out of embarrassment. "Come back here!" Sam yelled as he got a hold of you and hugged you from behind, quickly throwing you over his shoulder.

"Let me gooo!" You yelped, moving your legs as you laughed purely by reflex. He held your legs in place. You were blushing hard.

"Nu-uh. We're gonna have a chat, young lady." Colby said, crossing his arms as you looked at him with a pout on your face. Sam turned around and slapped your ass, walking back to the room. You yelped, not expecting the sudden movement.

"A nice, long chat." Sam said as you sighed.

Oh boy. It's gonna be a long night.

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how do you guys like the banner? i got creative(ish)

also pls tell me what you thought about the fic, cause i don't really know if i did good with the idea, i did want them to review the footage but i also wanted a bit of tension or something extra to make it spicy, i'm not sure if i did a good job tho...

thank you for reading!

-nikkõ

smol taglist: @lemonnightmare @yourfavoritefangirl @stardollswrld