#or maybe they just don’t know what to say - but it still sorta hurts

[gaycousinlarry]

.

[bootycallin]

B(W)ETTER THAN ME !?

꩜ .ᐟ basically: vi hears from you that it's practically impossible for you to cum without having your clit played with, and guys never seem to find it to begin with. she takes that as a challenge.

cw: female reader with female anatomy. close friend vi. you can read this as modern au if you want, idfk. strap usage. doggy and then into another position idk the name of. manhandling. mentions of edging. petnames (doll, baby, etc.). overstimulation? squirting. very self indulgent if you couldn't tell. no plot just pôrn.

a/n; shoutout to my girls who are literally impossible to please without playing w they clit, we fightin for our lives over here. don’t expect a lot of pretty looking posts like this, i got excited. again, if any stuffs missing, pls tell me!! hope u like it…

NSFW UTC

"oh, really, doll?" it was an innocent conversation at first, you swore it was. you really don't know how it wound up with you bent over, face down ass up in your bed. your dearest friend, vi, right behind you. pounding into you. "it's frustrating," you said. "i can never cum from somebody just fucking me. no guy even knows that the clit exists either." you had been around vi enough to confide in her, even with your most intimate stories and complaints. what you didn't know is that by saying that, you inadvertantly challenged her.

"fuck, vi, wait--" you gasp, hand clumsily reaching behind you, feeling up her hipbone to her hard abs, glistened with sweat. "break. break. break." she had been plowing into you for what felt like hours now. realistically, it might only be a few minutes, but it's far longer than any other dude you had a fling with. for a second you wonder what the fuck she's eating to have this sort of stamina, because it sure as hell isn't human. "hurts?" she asked you, tone way too kind and sweet for the position she had you in. "no," you pant. "just... just gimme a sec--" it didn't hurt. quite the opposite-- it felt amazing. like nirvana except maybe ten times filthier. she was pounding you to cloud nine and back and gods, it felt good, but you still hadn't cum. right, she didn't play with your clit once. because she has to prove a point! she doesn't care how long shes gonna spend plowing into you with this goddamn strap, she wants to give you the best orgasm of your life, clit untouched. right now, for somebody that had never done this-- it was torture. a constant build-up, her tip repeatedly kissing the deepest places inside you until you felt like she was in your guts, rubbing against your slick walls, filling you up so good. it was too much, but not enough at the same time.

you didn't know, but she was being tortured too. she silently vowed to herself the moment she manhandled you onto your bed that she would not cum until you did. so, she's just sorta been edging herself for the past, like, seven minutes. may the higher lords of sex bless doggy, because were you to see her face right now, her ego would be destroyed. sweaty, red, nearly teary-eyed.

"want me to sto-"

"no," you answer just a tad too quickly. she cracks an amused huff at that, hands trailing up and down the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

"fuck- just- gh!-"

you didn't have to finish the goddamn sentence, because when you were about to, vi has your wrists in her hands, pulling back and slamming forward into you with a guttural growl. it’s harsher, it’s meaner, and it feels so goddamn good.

you don't even realize what's happening until your back presses against her chest. she pulled you up against her, hands still wrapped tightly together as she rut into you. with the closer proximity, her face buried into the crook of your neck. you could hear her panting, groaning, growling with every smack of her hips against yours. oh, and she could hear every little cry that came from you when she rut into that little spot you always found hard to reach.

oh, vi. shit, fuck, fuck me, yes. oh, she's gonna be dreaming about you for a while after this.

"viii!--" you whine, throwing your head back. there it was again, that heat bubbling in your stomach like a boiling pot, ready to boil over. it was stronger. far stronger. your head was fuzzy with the feeling.

"shit, vi-- fuck, fuck, fuck, i think i-"

"close, doll?" she growled. she just barely gives you the time to respond, shuffling a bit so she could angle her hips up, and oh-

"vi!" found it. head first (literally) ramming into that gooey, sensitive and swollen bundle of nerves, the good old g. bet none of those guys were able to find it, huh, baby?

she growls into your shoulder when she feels your stubby little nails scratch at her lower abdomen, where she held your wrists back tight. you were close, she was close, she could feel it. perfect.

"vi, wait, shiiit!--" you cry out, but she's not stopping. it's too much to process, unlike anything you've ever felt before. you can feel the pressure building exponentially, your abused little cunt spasming around her cock, clenching so tight she nearly finds it hard to move if it weren't for the drippy slick running down your folds. it's strange, and for a second you're worried with the pressure building in your bladder, only to send shocks up to your clit.

"fuck, shit, it's weird, vi--" your head lolls back against her shoulder, jaw hanging open as you let out wanton cries and babbles.

"it's 'right, baby. jus' let go, come on..." she doesn't know if shes talking to you or herself. but she knows it works--

you finally cum with a dragged out whine of her name (that almost sounded like a scream, to be fair. she's surprised your throat isn't hoarse). you swear you black out for a second, vision going white as you feel like you explode into pleasured little pieces. and--

oh. oh.

the splashing of that milky, yet watery liquid, gushing all over her cock. damn, that's fucking hot. you should see yourself from her point of view. not only does she make you cum, she makes you squirt. vi takes that as enough victory to rut into you until she reaches her own orgasm-- which, to be fair, doesn't take too long since she's been on the edge of cumming for the past few minutes. she buries her face into your shoulder, eyes screwed shut. it still steals a few more whimpers and whines from you--and from her too, but she manages to hide them by biting your shoulder with a grunt.

too weak by both of your highs to keep upright, she ends up sitting back down onto the mattress, letting go of your arms only to wrap her own around your waist, cinching you two closer from behind. her strap has long since slipped out of you, leaving you dripping and empty, but ultimately satisfied.

"enjoy yourself?" you need a few minutes to come to and fro, blinking a few times before you see where vi is looking and look towards the direction, only to see the darkened, wet spot of your own making on you sheets. fuck.

"oh shit, that's--" you sound embarrassed, and she's quick to cut you off.

"it's fine, baby. just glad you enjoyed yourself." she chuckled. gods, she's so sweet when she wants to be. she runs her hands over your sides, kissing your nape.

"but you owe it to me, was that not the best orgasm of your life?" she whispers into your ear, her hand trailing down and down and down, until her ring and middle finger press against your twitchy clit, earning a sharp gasp from you.

"imagine what i could do playing with this pretty thing, though?"

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 © bootycallin on tumblr. do not copy, translate or cross post without permission. ᛝ

[idontactuallyremember]

Thanos x fem!reader PART ONE

- You assume Thanos flirts with you in an attempt to get you to vote O next round. He comes to you late at night and offers you something. At first, you think it's only so he can manipulate you. However, he asks you something that changes your assumption of him and what he wants.

- TW! Y'all both popping pills!!!

- Sad boy/ sorta soft boy Thanos :( Fluff, essentially SFW (Next part might be spicy 🤪)

- He's kinda a jerk at first (it's a defense mechanism, he's hurting)

“Why not? You think you’re better than us?” Thanos says, a sarcastic smile sprouting on his lips, “You think you’re better than Thanos, girl?”

“I don’t need a team. I don’t need friends.” You say, simply, “I don’t need a group.”

This is not your first time explaining to Thanos you didn’t want to join his team. Each time he offered, he had a different, new and improved reason as to why you had to join them.

“Last game… I saw you struggling. The bitches you’re with now won’t help you if the next game is another team game. You’re lucky you survived the Pentathlon.” Thanos replies and Nam-Gyu, his pet, bobbles his head in agreeance.

“Remind me, why do you even care?” You smile.

“We want to protect you, baby. You think such nasty things of us… We also need an extra vote for the O team and if you join us, I know you’ll vote O next round.”

“I don’t need your protection. I think you need my help more than I need yours.” I give an exaggerated, sarcastic, sad glance to the voting results- a tie until we re-vote tomorrow, “Anyhow, even if I joined your team- I’m still voting X.”

“Well, if you joined my team and voted X that’d be like betrayal to me, girl. Why can’t we both benefit from this?”

“Right, how am I benefiting?"

“Well, we’d be protecting you like I said! If you don't join us someone else will and if you’d rather die with those bitches-”

“Stop calling them that!” You interrupt but he ignores you.

“-than go right ahead.”

There’s a moment of disapproving silence- you and Thanos simply stare at each other.

He glances you up and down and stalks closer to you, closing the space to mere inches- “I could protect you and I could also get my dick wet, yeah? Make you feel good?”

“Fuck you.” You say.

“She’s just playing hard to get.” He says to his group as you walk away.

Later that night, you lay in bed, unable to sleep. A bad feeling creeps up your chest- the feeling that you might die here.

You also think about what Thanos said. He's been flirting with every girl here but he won't leave you alone specifically. He’d fuck anything that walks, surely. It sort of made you mad- but deep down- part of you liked that he chased you.

You stare at the ceiling for minutes, maybe half-an-hour. You hear movement coming from below you, only, it’s too dark to see anything. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself so you stay as still as possible.

Someone is climbing up your bed to the top bunk. You already know who it is. The sight of purple hair only solidifies what you already know to be true.

“I will kick you down the fucking bunk and laugh when you break your neck- get the fuck out of my bed.” You say.

“Woah, woah, I just saw how tense you were earlier, I figured: why not offer you something?”

“You’ve offered enough, no?” You ask, cheekily.

He says nothing, only sits himself down (uninvited), removes the necklace from his neck and opens the cross. An array of colorful tablets lay in a hidden compartment.

“You want one?” He says, a smile on his face.

He waited, expectantly. You’d never seen him this happy or this excited. Maybe only when he murdered three people during Red Light, Green Light.

You think about the consequences of taking one. He probably wanted to drug you and get you to vote O, or worse.

He notices your hesitation and states, “Look: I’ll take one, too. We could get high together, okay?”

He picks a green one and places it on his tongue, then, lingering for a moment, “What’s your favorite color, baby?”

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the excessive trauma of the last few days but- fuck, he is hot. Sitting here in the dim-lit room, him in your bed, you only notice now. The tattoos; running down his neck, down his arm, to his long, slender fingers. The ear piercings, the purple hair, the colorful nails- he was sexy. Especially the way he looked at you; looked at those pills. Like a kid on Christmas. You can’t help but think about what his tattoos look like in full; what he looks like without his shirt.

“Pink.” You swallow, thickly, clearing your head.

He meticulously shuffles the tablets around, digging for a pink one, his hands hovering over the piece of jewelry.

“Open.” A simple demand- he doesn't even look at you to see if you do. 'Cocky fuck', you think but your legs feel weak from his commanding tone, anyway.

You do as he says and he places the tablet on your tongue.

“Good girl… chew it.” He purrs. Your insides feel like jelly.

“It will hit hard and fast, okay? Should I stay here?” He asks.

You remember that feeling you had, laying awake before Thanos crawled up here. The feeling that death is imminent, that you will die here, maybe in this bed.

You still didn't trust him- not as far as you could throw him- but if you may die anyway…

“Stay here with me.” You decide, quietly.

“Okay.” He lays down next to you instantly, stroking your hair.

It’s silent as he twirls your long hair between his fingers.

“Thanos?”

“Yes, pretty?”

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“I want you.”

“Why? Why not someone else?”

He thinks for a long time.

“The other people here... they treat me like an object. I'm some rapper- not even anymore- who they just want to say they met. Say they were friends with... whatever. You saw the way they all wanted a picture with me? Those people admire me but they don't like me. Plus, I always want things I can’t have. You don’t like me, either. It makes me want you more. At least you don't lie to me."

Maybe it was the drugs talking.

Maybe it’s only because he won’t give up. Maybe you liked that he wanted you so bad.

“I do want you.” You say, barely above a whisper.

“Why do you act like you don’t?”

“Because I don't agree with you in this game. I need to leave. Fuck the money, at this point. I’d rather have my life.” you say.

“I wouldn’t.” He says, glumly. You don’t ask why; you don’t say anything.

It's silent for so long, you wonder if Thanos fell asleep. You feel the drugs working through your body, your feet and hands tingling, the room spinning. You wonder if he’s feeling it by now, too. You wonder how many he takes- Do they even do anything for him anymore?

“Life sucks out there…If everyone else around me is pretending... pretending to be my friend... I want to just pretend- even for a minute- that things are okay.” He admits, sleepily, “I can't… do that out there. Here I can pretend.”

For a long time, you don't know what to say.

“I understand.” You say. Because you do.

You feel him push against you closer.

“Pretend with me?” He asks.

More silence. Is this his way of trying to convince you to vote O? He plays the sad-boy card?

“Please?” His voice desperate; he grips your shirt as he cuddles you, pulling you close. He sounds genuine.

“Okay. We can pretend, Thanos.”

“Thank you.” He says, seemingly relieved. You feel the grip on your shirt loosen after a few minutes.

“Thanos?” You whisper.

No reply- he’s asleep. You relax into his arms until you think about what he said, just earlier:

"You don’t like me, either. It makes me want you more. At least you don't lie to me."

When you recall him saying that, all you can think about is how he isn't asking to be wanted or loved- he's not even asking for the truth, whether he appreciates it or not. He's asking, desperately, to pretend.

You realize how much a person needs to have been lied to to beg to be lied to, again, only, under their own terms.

For him to beg for an ounce of kindness, sympathy, connection: even if it's not real... that must hurt.

Your stomach turns; you feel like crying. You stare at the ceiling more.

Thanos snores softly beside you.

[cozage]

Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Law, and Ace with fem S/O with healing water powers. The catch is that whenever she uses those powers, she feels pain from the wounds she’s healing. And this isn’t a Devil Fruit ability. It’s sorta like water bending from Avatar.

A/N: I really debated on how to lay this one out, but I chose to have them find out about her power. If anyone wants a head canon follow up on how they act now that they know, send me an ask :) I maybe made this a bit too long, but those soft moments with each of these boys are my WEAKNESS. (Law may seem a little OOC but I truly believe that man gets tunnel vision when he sees you in pain)

Characters: F! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Law, Ace

Cw: blood, pain, injuries, angst, all those fun things. Sanji’s contains slight spoilers for WCI

Total word count: 6.3k

The Pain of Healing

Zoro

Word count: 1.2k

“It’s only five more minutes until my Haki returns.” Luffy says between pants, trying to catch his breath. 

“Then I have five minutes to help you. Sit down.” 

Luffy collapsed onto the ground at your command, and you examined his body as he slept. It didn’t look good. His body was riddled with scrapes, scratches, bruises, and he was bleeding out from his side. Several minor injuries could be more painful than large ones, but Luffy had a mix of both. The best thing to do would be to focus on the large ones first, and if you have energy left, fix the small stuff as well. 

You guided water out of your flask and started with the hole in his side. You were used to the pain that came with healing by now, but it still made you flinch every time you started. You had to grind your teeth together to keep from crying out, not wanting to wake Luffy. He needed rest, and you didn’t want him to see the repercussions of your decision to help heal him anyway. 

After five minutes, you’ve taken all of the major injuries away from his body, and you managed to take a few small ones away from him as well. You wipe the tears from your eyes before you shake him awake. 

“It’s time, Luffy. Wake up.” You put on the biggest fake smile you can muster before his eyes flick open. 

“Aw man, that was the best nap in my entire life! I feel amazing!” You stay seated as he stands up, your body too riddled with pain to move. 

“Go get them, Captain!” It hurts to even speak, but Luffy’s already up stretching, too hyped up to notice your exhaustion.

“Thanks for whatever you did to make me feel so great! Leave the rest to me!” Luffy calls back, bounding off to finish the fight. 

Once he’s out of sight, you fold your head into your hands and weep. The pain was immeasurable, and every time you helped Luffy recover, you don’t understand how he’s still alive. You sit there for a long time, crying until there are no tears left. And then you hear cheers from the village nearby, signifying Luffy has won and your work paid off. Knowing that you helped him win makes you feel a little better, and you need to see everyone again. 

You stand up, ready to go meet the rest of the crew, but your body seems to disagree with your movement. Your legs shake, and when you go to take a step, you can feel your body collapsing, falling to the ground. You brace for the impact of your worn body against the solid ground, too tired to do anything else.

It doesn’t come, though. Someone catches you as you stumble forward. Strong arms wrap around your back and your legs, scooping you up and pressing you into his bare chest. Zoro. 

“Easy.” His expression is stone as he stares at you, but you can see worry underneath. “You gonna tell me what the hell you just did to Luffy?” 

You avert your eyes from his gaze, running the tip of your finger along the scar on his chest. “I healed him.”

You can feel his body tense with your words. “That didn’t look like healing to me. And since when do you have a Devil fruit power anyway?”

You bite your lip nervously. Nobody had caught you healing someone before. It wasn’t something you flaunted, or even something you told people about. “It’s not a devil fruit power.”

“Woman, if you don’t tell me-” he breaks off mid sentence, and you look around for any sign of danger. But there’s nobody around besides the two of you. You risk a glance up at him, and you see his face is pained as he stares down at you with a form of understanding. “You took his pain from him, didn’t you?”

Your mouth falls open from shock. You’re not sure how Zoro was able to guess something so accurate after seeing your power one time. You nod, confirming his suspicions. “He’s got an incredibly high threshold for pain tolerance.” 

“How are you still alive?” Zoro shakes you a little when he asks the question, which causes you to groan in pain. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be more gentle. Do you want to sit? Stand?”

The thought of being upright makes you dizzy. “Can you just keep holding me for now?”

He nods, and returns to questioning you about your mysterious power instead. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yeah.” It hurt to talk honestly, but you didn’t want to tell Zoro that. 

“How often have you been doing this?”

“Only like three or four times for Luffy, I think.” You're certain it’s been more than that, but you can’t tell Zoro that right now. 

“Three or four times?? For Luffy?” You can feel him trying to figure out the meaning behind your cryptic words. 

“There’s been a few other people I’ve done it for too.”

“Have you done it for me?” He's scowling at you, like he already knows the answer you’re going to give and he's waiting to scold you for it. 

“Maybe once or twice,” you lie, and you feel your cheeks burning. He squints at you, and you know you’ve been caught in the lie. But he says nothing, he just readjusts you in his arms to hold you closer. 

He had been walking for a few minutes, and you had almost fallen asleep. He had managed to keep you mostly still while he walked through the destroyed city, and you were too tired to care if he was lost or not. “It’s a neat power,” he finally comments. “You gonna tell me more about it? Or do I need to keep asking questions?”

“Can I tell you later?” You mumble into his chest. Between the safety of Zoro’s arms, the warmth of the sun on your face, and the exhaustion that’s set in from all that pain, it's hard for you to stay conscious. 

Zoro doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and you struggle to stay awake while you wait for an answer. He was never one for mindless chit chat, but you could tell that something was on his mind, so you decide to indulge him.

“It’s not a devil fruit. I was born with it,” You start, and you feel a heavy weight lift off your shoulders with those few words.  You’re so relieved that you can finally tell someone about your secret now. “I was never supposed to let anyone see it being used. If the World Government knew…” You trail off, thinking of how the Navy would turn you into a weapon. You shutter at the thought, and continue on in your explanation. 

“The power isn’t perfect, though. I feel the pain of whoever or whatever I heal. It’s not permanent, but if it’s too much for my body to handle at the moment, I might die. I’m really not sure, I’ve never tried to heal a fatal wound before.”

Zoro is looking off into the distance with a faraway look in his eye. “Just like Kuma.”

“Who?”

“Back on Thriller Bark we met a Marine named Kuma,” Zoro begins to explain, and you focus all your energy into listening to him. “He took all of Luffy’s pain and told me if we wanted to save Luffy, I had to take his pain upon myself. It was just after his big battle with the warlord Moria, and the pain…” he trailed off, and you knew he was reliving the moment in his mind. 

“Does he know about your sacrifice?” 

Your question brings him back to reality, and he looks down at you. He chuckles at your question, and bends over to kiss your forehead. “Does he know about yours?”

Sanji

Some light spoilers for WCI arc

Word Count: 1.2k

You didn’t realize that your ability was keeping Sanji up at night. 

Anytime he had a cut, or a burn, or any other kind of injury, you waited for him to doze off before you pulled out some water and healed his hands. The injuries were never serious, and after a few times, you barely noticed the pain. 

You didn’t mind, and you knew how much your boyfriend valued his hands. It was your silent act of love to him, something you wanted to give him but could never tell him about. One morning after you healed a bad burn, you found him sitting up in bed, staring at his hands. 

“Is something wrong, Sanji dear?”

The cook was examining his hands thoroughly, flipping them over again and again. “I could’ve sworn I had a burn here yesterday.”

Your cheeks tinted at the thought of being found out. “Oh, well maybe you just have superhuman healing powers!” You laugh it off, trying your best to act natural. 

“Yeah, maybe…” You could tell something was bothering him, but he didn't say anything further. 

You caught him staring at his hands throughout the day, as if he was waiting for a bomb to explode. At dinner you noticed a particularly bad cut on the topside of his hand - a cut he must’ve gotten while chopping vegetables - and you made a note to heal it that night. 

He stayed awake later than usual that night, and he seemed more wound up with anxiety than normal. You peppered his face with a few kisses, trying to get him to relax some. 

“Sanji, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He sighed, pulling you into his chest and laying down to finally get some sleep. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He fell asleep quickly with you pressed into him. His slow, even breaths signified he was finally unconscious, and you pulled out some water to cover his wound. It stung you a bit as his flesh stitched back together, and you let out a low hiss in pain, and you froze as Sanji stirred slightly in his sleep. This wound was deeper than his normal cuts and burns; he must’ve been really distracted when he hurt himself. He wasn’t usually so careless around knives, but you knew whatever was bothering him would be revealed when he was ready to talk to you about it.  

With his wound healed and Sanji’s breath returning to normal, you curled back into place against him, and fell deep into sleep.

You woke to a string of curses falling out of Sanji’s mouth, his body tight and tense against yours. 

“Hm? Sanji?” You rub the sleep from your eyes and open them to find him staring at his hands again. “Sanji, what’s wrong?”

“That’s impossible,” he mumbled, speaking mostly to himself. He looks panicked, staring down at the place where his cut was yesterday. “That’s not humanly possible.”

You feign innocence as you have in the past, but you can’t ignore the nervous look in his eyes. “What is it, Ji?”

“I had a cut here yesterday. It was deep.” His breathing quickened, and you could see that he was scared for some reason. “It couldn’t have healed overnight. It’s not…It can’t be…”

“I’m sure it’s just-”

“You don’t understand.” He cuts you off mid-sentence, something he’s never done before, and it takes you aback. He gets out of bed abruptly, his eyes never leaving his hand.

“Sanji?”

“I need to go. I need to get out of here.” He’s pacing the room now, his stress overflowing into the space between you. 

“Go where? Sanji, calm down. Talk to me-”

“I can’t be here! I can’t endanger you! Or anyone else, for that matter!” His face is contorted with such pain you’ve never seen before. You don’t know what’s going on with your boyfriend, but his reaction to such a small cut is starting to scare you.

You jump out of bed and stride over to him. When you reach him, you clasp his face between your hands, forcing his eyes away from his hands and up to your eyes. His eyes are wide with pure fear, and his breathing is rapid and shallow. You can feel his body shaking as you hold him. 

“Sanji.” You push down your own fear and speak to him in a soothing tone, trying to bring him back to you. “Talk to me.”

“I’m a monster, Y/N.” Tears fill his eyes, threatening to spill out as he speaks. “If my body is regenerating like this…I’m a threat to you all.”

“You’re not,” You whisper. “You’re not a monster, Sanji.” You stand on your tiptoes to try and kiss the space between his eyes, but he pulls away from you.

“You don’t know.” He backs away from you, fear returning to his eyes again. “I am a monster. And now that I’m-”

It’s your turn to cut him off now. “I healed you, Sanji.”

His brows furled in confusion, but his eyes looked less panicked now. “Wha..?”

“I have this power,” you explain. You walk back to the bedside table, gathering some water from a cup and suspending it in the air. “I can heal people with water. I’ve been healing your small injuries for a while now. I wanted to make your life easier, I swear. I’m sorry I kept it from you. I just…I wanted to help.”

You see him relax the more you explain your powers, which was not the reaction you were expecting. He watches you move the water through the air, and tears finally flow from his eyes. 

“Y/N-chan,” he sobs, running over to you, embracing you in a hug. He’s holding you tight, smothering you into his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you hide it?”

Your face burns against him, embarrassed that you had kept it from him for so long. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, and I knew you wouldn’t want me hurting myself for you, but-”

“Hang on.” He pulls back from you, peering down at your face with a frown of concern. “You’re being hurt?”

“Just when I heal people,” you rush to explain, seeing his frown deepen. “I just feel the pain of the injuries I’m healing, it’s no big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he corrects, staring at you disapprovingly. “Promise me you won’t do it anymore.”

“Sanji-”

“Promise, Y/N.”

“No! Let me do this for you!” You’re pouting now, but you know Sanji won’t cave on this matter. You know he can’t let you hurt yourself at his expense. 

“I appreciate that you want to help,” he says sternly. You can hear the love in his voice as he speaks, and you know you’ll have to agree to his request.  “But there are other ways for you to help me without hurting yourself. Please-”

“Fine. Promise.” You give him a fake pout, but when he pulls you back into his chest and holds you tightly, you melt into him. “Are you sure you’re okay, Ji? You seemed scared earlier.”

“I’m fine, really.” He rests his chin on the top of your head, drawing in a long breath before he says more. “I just thought my past was coming back to haunt me again, that’s all.”

You all stand there for a long while, just enjoying eachothers closeness. You only break apart when you hear Luffy screaming for breakfast, and you give him one last kiss on each of his hands before you let him go. 

Luffy

Word Count: 1.1k

“Stay still, idiot.” You held Luffy down, looking at his wound in his foot. 

“I can’t! It hurrrtttssss!” 

“That’s what you get for wearing sandals in the jungle!” You could tell from the way the stick speared through his foot, Luffy wouldn’t be able to walk easily, and you still had another half mile before you made it back to the ship. 

You knew you weren’t supposed to heal people while they were conscious, but this was Luffy. He was the love of your life, and the Strawhats were your only family. If you couldn’t trust them, you deserved to be locked up anyway. 

You sighed, pulling water out of your flask in soft, flowing movements. Luffy was still writhing in pain on the ground, overdramatic in his reaction to his current impalement. It was possible that you might be able to heal him without him even realizing it. 

You surrounded his foot with an orb of water, and imagined the wound being stitched together, just like your mother had taught you. You saw his rubbery skin begin to mend together, and braced yourself for what came next. 

Your grip on Luffy’s ankle tightened when the pain came. It was sharp and fast, and it took the breath out of your lungs. You squeezed your eyes shut, but kept your focus on the wound and the pain that came with it. 

“Wooooahhhh!” You could hear Luffy’s sigh of amazement, and you knew he had caught you healing his wound. “That’s so cool! The hole is just closing up!!”

You didn’t speak, afraid that your voice would betray you. The last thing you wanted Luffy to know was that you were in pain because of the healing process. You could hear him freaking out about how cool it was that his injury was healing before his own eyes, but you did your best to ignore him and focus on the healing process. You kept your eyes closed the entire time, using the level of pain to guide how much longer you had to fix his injury. Finally, the pain dulled, and then disappeared. You dropped his foot and opened your eyes again, trying to ignore the lingering effects that your body was dealing with. 

Luffy was examining his foot closely, looking at it from all angles to see if there was any damage. He stood up, putting all of his weight back on his foot, and jumped up and down a few times. 

“It’s like brand new!” He shouted with glee. He came over to you and wrapped you in a hug. “You’re the best, Y/N!”

--

Over the next few weeks, Luffy offered up your services to others throughout the ship. You knew that Luffy was incapable of keeping secrets, and you had never explicitly asked him to keep that information to himself. You never minded healing your family though, and the injuries were always minor. Luffy sent Ussop to you when he got a burn on his hand, and Franky when he got a bad cut on his face. Chopper sent Zoro when he had a sprained wrist. It wasn’t until Nami came to you with a nasty cut on her shoulder that the secret of your healing was revealed. 

You smiled when she asked, and pulled water out to start the healing process. You coated the wound in a bubble of water, and clenched your jaw to prepare for the worst. 

You were aware of Nami’s eyes watching you. Everyone else watched their own wound magically heal, but her eyes remained on your face, watching for any signs of discomfort on your end. You had a feeling that she was suspicious of your powers already. She had been the most interested member of the crew from the start, asking about the stipulations and origins of your power from the moment she had found out about it. 

You kept your eyes on the gash, trying your best to mentally steel yourself for the pain that would come. You knew it wouldn’t be easy to hide the pain, but you were determined to make it look natural. When the feeling of pain ripped through your shoulder to match her wound, you gritted your teeth and kept your smile, but you could feel your muscles involuntarily twitch. 

If Nami noticed, she said nothing. When you finished, you looked back up at her and let out a shaky breath, smiling. She eyed you suspiciously, but thanked you politely and left you alone. Once the door swung shut, you collapsed back onto the couch you were on, desperately needing a nap after that performance. 

--

Luffy was awoken by a smack on the head. 

“What?” He asked groggily. “Are we at the next island?”

“Are you some kind of sadist,” the tangerine-haired girl scolded, shaking her finger at him. “Or are you just a moron?”

“What are you talking about, Nami?”

Nami rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, staring daggers down at Luffy. “Y/N’s power.”

Luffy rubbed his head, wondering if you could fix headaches. “What about it?”

“She feels pain when she heals people, you idiot. She probably feels whatever pain she’s healing.”

Luffy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that she just healed my shoulder. And she was in some serious pain while she was doing it. She hides it well, but I could tell she was hurting.”

Luffy bit his lip, trying to think back to when you had healed him in the forest. But he had been so amazed at watching his own wound heal, he hadn’t noticed your reaction while you were doing it. 

“She seemed kind of tired after mine, but that’s it. I felt great though, so I carried her back to the ship!”

“So you are just a moron!” Nami punched him again. “No more free healing! Stop taking advantage of her!”

--

You woke up from your nap to rubber arms wrapped around you and Luffy’s round eyes staring at you intensely.

“Good morning,” you groan, trying to pull away from him to stretch. 

He let you go enough to stretch out, but kept a tight grip on you. “Does it hurt?”

You freeze mid-stretch, silently cursing Nami for her hyper awareness. “It just makes me tired.”

“You’re lying.” He knows you so well. You move your fingers up to his hair, twirling his locks around your index finger.

“Yeah,” you sigh the word out. You’re painfully aware of his gaze, transfixed on your face.

 “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because Luffy, it’s not that bad.” Your eyes move back to his finally, and you can see the hurt and confusion that is held within them. “And I like doing what I can to help my family.”

He nods, accepting that answer, and snuggles up into your chest, holding you tightly against him. You let him lay there for a while, twirling his soft strands of hair around in your fingers. There are few quiet moments between you and Luffy, and you cherish every moment you can get like this.

“Nami said no more free healings, by the way.”

You laugh and give his forehead a quick kiss. “Guess I’ll have to charge you double.”

Law

Word Count: 1.2k

“Fuck.”

Law’s breath was ragged as you pressed into his stomach wound. Blood coated your hands as you tried to stop the bleeding, but it didn’t seem to be working very well. 

“I just need to...” Law coughed, and you could see red staining his lips. A small blue orb began to form in his palm, but it flickered out quickly. He was too weak to use his devil fruit powers.

“Fuck.” You repeated. There was only one thing you could do now. It meant exposing your secret and showing your captain your biggest weakness, but you’d do anything to save him. 

You pulled away from his wound, and let your hands guide water from your flask, maneuvering it through the air. “Don’t freak out,” you say, and you cover the wound in water. You let it sit for a moment, and then begin imagining the wound healing. 

It started as a dull, throbbing pain in your stomach. You began to think you were getting used to the pain, but then it began to grow, turning sharp and stabbing. You flinched at the sudden change in pain, but held your focus. 

Law watched you work for a few moments with wide eyes, unsure what was happening or what he could do. You wanted to scream from the pain that was growing rapidly, but you held your tongue, hoping he didn’t notice your facial expressions contorting into pain. Tears filled your eyes, and you finally felt Law move into action, his hand gripping around your wrists. 

“Stop,” he demanded, trying to push your arms away from his wound. You ignore his demand, keeping your arms locked against him, continuing the healing process at your expense. 

“Stop! Y/N-ya, Stop it!” His voice rose in pitch, and you could tell he sensed your pain. His efforts to push you away are getting stronger, proof that his energy is returning to him. You feel relieved in the fact that he is healing, even if it is exhausting you in the process. 

He finally succeeds in pushing you off him, and you fall backwards to the ground and lay there, dazed and stunned from your work. He quickly straddles you and pins your arms to the ground to ensure you’ve fully stopped whatever you had started doing to him. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Law stares down at you, angry and scared of what you’ve done. 

You know his rage is out of fear, and you give him a small smile, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. “You okay now?”

He stares at you, baffled at your question. He has energy now, and his wound in his stomach is almost completely healed. He knows it’s due to you, but he doesn’t know how you’ve managed to heal him so quickly. Fear. Betrayal. Anger. So many emotions run through him all at once. He has so many questions that he doesn’t know where to start. 

He tightens his grip around your wrists, keeping you pinned down. “Explain.”

“It’s a power I was born with,” you say, closing your heavy eyes. “I can heal other people’s injuries through water.”

Law watches you carefully, certain that you’re hiding something. He squeezes your wrists tighter until you finally open your eyes again, looking anywhere but at him. 

You can’t make eye contact with him or you know you’ll tell him everything. You can’t afford for him to know your secret, it was bad enough that he knew this much. 

“You were in pain.” He says it as a statement, not a question.

You squirm from underneath him, trying to get free, but his grip doesn’t let up. He’s determined to get to the bottom of what you just did. He needs to protect you. He needs to keep you safe from all harm, even if that means protecting you from yourself. 

“Let go.” You say, still trying to get free. His grip is starting to become painful, and you try to pull your arms away from him again. “You’re hurting me, Law. Let go.”

His eyes stare down at you, unmoving from his current position. The more you squirm, the tighter his grip gets, and you know he won’t let go until he has an answer. “Y/n-ya, why were you in pain?”

“It’s a side effect!” You cry out in frustration, finally giving in. You suspect he knew the moment he saw it. “I feel the person’s pain as I heal them.”

In his shock, Law’s hands loosen their grip, and you finally pull free from him. You try to turn away from him, but he’s still sitting on your stomach, and you don’t have enough energy to push him off. You rub at your wrists, trying to get the sting from his grip out of your body.

Law is frozen, staring down at you with wide eyes. He grits his teeth, watching you massage your wrists. “I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for your hands again, more gentle this time. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

You let him grab one of your hands, and he begins massaging your wrists gently, whispering apologies to you. You close your eyes and try to forget that you’ve broken your number one rule about your power: telling other people. You focus on his wrist massage for a while, his own way to apologize for his outburst.

“Y/n-ya?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you save me?”

You sigh, opening your eyes again. This time, you meet his gold eyes, radiant against the sunlight. “You never want anyone to save you, Captain.”

“It’s my job as a ca-”

“I saved you because I love you, you idiot.”

You can see Law’s eyes twitch in surprise; his hands freeze against your wrist. 

“You don’t get to decide what sacrifices I make for you,” you continue. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do to save you. That’s my decision. You’ve made many sacrifices for me, some extremely painful ones. Remember the incident at Low Sand Creek?”

Law doesn’t respond, but he slowly starts to massage your wrists again, which you take as a sign to keep talking. 

“I don’t get to criticize your decisions on sacrifice. And you don’t get to criticize mine either. I love you, and I know you love me. Do I want you to risk your life for me? No. But that’s just something I have to live with. And so do you. Okay?”

Your captain says nothing, and you can tell he’s sulking over your lecture. It wasn’t uncommon for you to have to do this with him. Law was one of the smartest people you knew, but relationships weren’t really his strong suit. It resulted in you having to do a lot of explaining and voicing your needs.

“Law, do you understand?” You insist, needing to stand your ground. He had a tendency of not responding when he didn’t agree with something.  

He huffs out an irritated breath. “Okay.”

You scrunch your face at him, shooting him a semi-fake glare. 

“I understand, okay?!”

You twisted your hand to intertwine with his, and grabbed his other hand with your free one so that both of his hands were now holding each of yours. You locked eyes with him, and you could see there was something else there, something that was bothering him. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

He was quiet for a moment, as if he were working up the courage to admit whatever he was feeling. His eyes moved away from your gaze and focused on one of his hands instead, still intertwined with yours. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice comes out slightly choked, and you realize that you had forgotten to explain the most important part to him. 

Your cheeks redden, embarrassed at your oversight. His eyes snapped back to yours, and now it was your turn to avoid eye contact.  

“It’s… I was told to never tell anyone about it. Or let someone else see it.”

You can feel him staring at you, his eyes willing you to look at him, but you refuse. He waits patiently, and you know he’s asking you a silent question: Don’t you trust me?

“I trust you, I just…” Neither you or Law had really talked about your past much. You preferred to live for the now, for the future. The past was just too painful to think about. “People died protecting that secret. I didn’t want to add more names to that list.”

Law gave a dark chuckle at your response. “And after all that preaching about not deciding who gets to make sacrifices.”

Now it’s your turn to sulk. “That is not-“

He cuts you off, pulling you up to meet him, and his lips collide with yours. 

He pulls back briefly, basking in your beauty. “No more secrets. Promise?”

“Promise.” 

Ace

Word Count: 1.5k

Ace wasn’t used to being hit, and when someone made contact with him, it hurt. He grimaced as he limped from battle, blood dripping down his leg from the giant puncture wound in his thigh. You had your arm around him, helping him run, but his injury was slowing you both down, and the enemy was closing in quickly.

“Sit,” you commanded. “Let me help.”

“I just need to get back to Marco, he can help.” His breathing was labored, and you knew he was expending too much energy just speaking to you. 

“I can heal too.” You helped him sit down, and you could feel his eyes staring at you, trying to understand your cryptic words. You chose to ignore him for now, and examined the wound. It was deep, but manageable. You braced yourself, and summoned some water out of your flask, covered his wound, and focused on stitching it back together. 

Pain ripped through you, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself focused. It wasn’t the worst pain you had felt, but the wound was deeper than you had initially thought, and you could feel your muscles tearing apart, just like Ace’s had when he was cut. You knew that it was just a phantom pain, no actual bodily harm was being done to you, but it was still pain nonetheless. 

You could feel tears pooling at the corner of your eyes, but you refused to stop until the job was done. You watched his muscle stitch back together, and when it was finally completely healed, you sat back and closed your eyes, exhausted and riddled with aches. 

When you opened your eyes again, you could see Ace in front of you, you could feel him shaking you violently. He was screaming something, but you couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying over the loud ringing in your ears. Slowly, your hearing returned, and you realized he was screaming your name. 

“Ace.” Your words were slow. You were still trying to come out of the fog of pain that always came with healing. “Stop shaking me.”

He finally stopped, but his hands were still tightly gripping your shoulders. He was staring at you in terror, fear spread across his face. 

“What were you doing?” His voice was loud and piercing, causing you to flinch. “How did you…What do…Where did…” He struggled to find the right words, and you stared at him with still-glazed eyes while he tried to form a sentence. You were struggling to refocus after the pain, and were thankful that Ace was tongue-tied for the moment. 

Ace took a breath, finally able to form a sentence. “I didn’t know you had a devil fruit power.”

“I don’t.” Normally you let people believe whatever they wanted in order to guard your secret, but this was Ace. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone. “It’s just an ability I was born with. I can heal people with water.”

Ace’s facial expressions had always been easy to read. Even in your dazed state, you watched as his concern turned to shock and then to confusion. You waited for the inevitable question to come, and it did. “If you’ve had this power, why haven’t you used it more often?” 

“I…” you hesitate. You didn’t want to tell him the weakness of your ability. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because you did. You knew that if Ace discovered the trade off of your powers, he would never want you to suffer for him or anyone else. 

You had told Marco about your power when you joined the crew, and the doctor had forbid you using your ability except in dire circumstances. Marco trusted you to make judgment calls on what you could handle, but you didn’t think Ace would feel the same way. 

You could hear the enemy's battle cries getting closer, and you take the opportunity to avoid the question. “Let’s go. We need to get back to the ship.”

Ace stands, and you follow to do the same. You take a bit longer to get to your feet, still light-headed from the trade off of healing Ace. His attention has shifted to the enemy pursuing you now, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice your sluggish movements. 

Ace’s fist becomes engulfed with flames, and he stands between the enemy and you. “Go back to the ship, I’ll hold them off.” 

“Idiot! That’s what got us here in the first place!” 

“Yeah,” He smirked back at you like the devilish fiend you knew he was. “But this time I won’t lose.”

You can feel your knees start to go weak, but you’re not sure if it’s from exhaustion or from the man in front of you. You hate to leave him, but you know you’ll only be a liability in this fight. With Ace’s energy replenished and the ability to fight in an open space, he’d finish off the enemy easily now. 

“You better not die.” Your words hang in the air, and you take off towards the Moby Dick. 

As soon as you got aboard the ship, you went straight to your room. You didn’t bother giving a report. Ace would do that when he returned. Sleep was what you needed now. 

—

You woke with arms wrapped around you tightly, and the warm body of Portgas D. Ace pressed against your back. You weren’t sure how long you had slept, but there was no longer any light coming in through the porthole in your room. You shifted, trying to get out of Ace’s grasp without waking up, but his strong arms tightened against you when you moved, keeping you close to him. 

For a long while you laid in the silence, unsure if Ace was asleep or awake. He wasn’t snoring like he normally did when he was asleep and he refused to let you move away from his grasp, but his breaths were even and he didn’t speak to you. You didn’t mind the quiet, your body was still exhausted from the fighting and the pain of healing today, and Ace’s warmth was almost therapeutic against your tired body.

“Your healing…” Ace's voice finally breaks the silence, making you tense from surprise. His voice was low and quiet in your ear. “It hurts you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

You can hear the sadness in his voice, and you know that he’s figured it out. Whether he solved it on his own or if Marco told him, it didn’t matter now. You’ve always been a bad liar, and you could never bring yourself to lie to Ace anyway.

He squeezed you tighter, pulling you closer to him. There was another long pause, and you let him hold you while he processed everything. 

“How bad is it?” His voice is level, but you can hear it beginning to grow thick with tears. 

“It depends on what I heal. I just feel the pain of the injury.”

His forehead presses into the crook of your neck, and his breath becomes shallow and ragged. You can feel his emotions coursing through him, and all you want to do is comfort him. You squirm, trying to flip over so you see his face while you talk, but his iron tight grip refuses to let you move. 

“Ace,” you speak gently, your hands pulling at his arms, and his grip loosens just enough for you to turn over onto your other side. You’re laying face to face with him now, but his eyes are squeezed shut. His freckled cheeks are wet with tears, and your heart constricts seeing his sadness. 

You press your forehead against his, and use your free hand to brush some of his hair away from his face. You continue softly sweeping your fingers through his hair, soothing him as you speak. “It’s not so bad, Ace. But that's why I don’t use it very often.”

His eyes are still closed, but you feel his hands ball into fists against your back, gathering the fabric of your shirt in them.

“Why did you use it to save me then?” His voice comes out more of a demand than a question. It’s harsh, and you know he’s angry. Maybe at you, maybe at himself, probably both. His question makes you freeze, your fingers still entangled in his strands of hair. 

You feel a slight prick of irritation at his question. You pull your head back and tilt his face up to look you in the eyes, but they’re still tightly shut. “Look at me,” you demand, your tone matching his from a moment ago. You feel him stiffen slightly at the intensity of your words, but his dark eyes open to meet your own. 

Your hands find his cheeks, cupping his face, and you press your forehead back into his. Your eyes never leave his, and you can feel his grip against your back finally start to soften as he focuses on you instead of what you’ve done. 

“I did it.” You pause for a moment, still staring at him. God, he was so stupid. You swipe your thumb across his freckles, wiping the tears from his sad, sweet eyes. “Because you deserve to be saved.”

[loveinhawkins]

Head spinning from blood loss, Eddie still manages to keep up a steady stream of curses as he lies in Steve’s arms, as he feels the jolt of Steve sprinting through The Upside Down.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking bullshit, fuck.”

“Good,” Steve says, frantic and out of breath. “Good, that’s—keep it up, Henderson says it can be, like, a sorta pain relief? Something about—”

“Fuck.” This time, Eddie chuckles through it. “S’not why I’m saying it.”

“No?” Steve says in that weird, measured tone that just silently screams panic, panic, panic. “Why?”

“Jus’ making sure,” Eddie says, and he knows that doesn’t make sense yet, can’t quite get his brain to work everything out. “Those’d be shit last words, so. They won’t be. You… fuck, ow. You know? Here lies Eddie Munson: fuck.”

Steve laughs, maybe a little hysterical, a little desperate, but mostly genuine. “Yeah, you’re right. That’d be really embarrassing, man.”

Eddie suddenly can’t find the energy to act insulted, even though he badly wants to make Steve laugh again—but it turns out, he doesn’t need to say anything, because Steve keeps talking.

“D’you know what that would be, though? A damn good yearbook quote.”

And Eddie laughs, too—laughs even though it hurts. “C’mon, man, Higgins would never let—”

“Eddie,” Steve manages to drawl out, even as he dextrously weaves through the vines on the ground, like Eddie’s just said something particularly naive. “You think Higgins looks over the yearbooks? You just gotta sweet-talk the yearbook committee, they pay the printers to turn a blind eye, and—”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I’m known for. Sweet-talking,” Eddie says. He tries very hard not to cough, has the horrible feeling that he might tear himself in two if he does.

“Don’t sell yourself short, dude,” Steve says.

And Eddie would blame that on the blood loss for making him hear things, but then Steve’s hands gently squeeze around him like he means it, and…

“So what… what was your yearbook quote, Harrington?” Eddie says. He firmly ignores the fact that his voice is becoming increasingly slurred.

Steve picks up the pace, kicks through the door into the trailer. His breath hitches once, but not from physical strain; Eddie knows that he’s frightened.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve replies, chiding, because he’s so goddamn brave, too. “Not telling you that until we get out of this.”

“Tease,” Eddie says.

But he must not get it out very clearly, because as Steve heads to the Gate, he murmurs, “Stay with me, Eddie.”

There’s some rope Steve had stashed in the corner of the living room, just in case, and Robin and Nancy must’ve made use of it to get Dustin through, because it’s already hovering in the air, waiting for them.

“Okay,” Steve says, half to himself. “I’ve got this.”

Eddie attempts a nod. The room spins.

Or maybe it’s just that they’re moving somehow, that Steve’s pulling them both up the rope, somehow not letting go of Eddie; and then he can hear muted yells from the other side, and he’s being lifted up on his own, like he’s ascending to heaven or some bullshit like that, and he almost wants to demand a re-mark on his English paper, because religious symbolism is fucking hilarious, actually.

“You’re a goddamn trapeze artist, Harrington,” he says, and Steve must hear him this time, because there’s a laugh from just behind him, a fucking beautiful laugh, and then Eddie’s falling, and he’s—

“Oh,” Eddie gasps, and his hand goes to his side instinctively, and he didn’t think he had much more blood in his body left to lose, but… “Oh, shit.”

His vision tilts sickeningly, and right before he passes out, he sees Steve appear in front of him, sees his face turn white.

“Eddie,” he’s saying, “Nance, what do I—oh my god—”

-

When Eddie wakes up, everything is fuzzy, his head full of cotton. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth that he has enough awareness not to panic about, that he somehow knows isn’t blood.

“So?” he says through the fog, lifts his eyelids just enough to see Steve is beside him. “What’s your yearbook quote?”

“Christ, you’re annoying,” Steve says with a smile, but he’s speaking in the thick, nasal tones of someone who’s been crying. “Thought you were on stuff that makes you forget all the stupid shit.”

“S’not stupid,” Eddie says indignantly.

For some reason, Steve’s eyes soften. “If you say so. Just rest right now, Eddie.”

“Can’t,” Eddie moans. He’s already made the mistake of looking up: the lights are too bright, quickly turning into nauseating swirls. “Feel sick.”

“That’s okay,” Steve says. “They said that’s normal. Hey, shh, just lie back. It’ll pass.”

But Eddie shakes his head and—ooh, shit, not a good idea.

“Y’should move, man,” he says. “Don’t wanna puke on you.”

Steve scoffs. “Eddie, you could literally throw up in my hair, and I wouldn’t give a shit.”

Eddie laughs, feels a bit pathetic that it comes out wet around the edges. “I just… wanna sleep,” he says, because he does, but he knows the nausea will keep him up—feels abruptly tearful, like he had done as a child with whooping cough, up for the whole night despite his fatigue.

“Here,” Steve says. “Close your eyes.”

And as he does so, Eddie feels a soothingly cool palm across his forehead. Steve. It’s such a gentle touch, such a kind touch that Eddie thinks he might cry—thinks he can only partly blame whatever drugs he’s on.

“Better?” Steve asks.

“Better,” Eddie agrees. And then, like a fool, he hurriedly says, “Don’t stop, though,” out of fear that Steve will draw his hand back at the answer.

Steve doesn’t laugh, doesn’t tease him even the slightest bit.

“I won’t,” he says, like an oath. His thumb rubs over Eddie’s temple. “M’sorry you feel shitty.”

“It’s okay. You’re right, it’s passing. Think… think it was just… lookin’ at the lights.”

Eddie sighs without meaning to, lulled by the repetitive path Steve’s fingers are tracing, over and over.

“Mm-hmm. Keep your eyes closed, then.” Steve hums softly, just in thought, not even close to a lullaby, but Eddie feels himself starting to drift off to it anyway.

“It’s a nice room you’ve got,” Steve says. “I would’ve rioted if it wasn’t. Big window. Just a view of the parking lot, sorry, not exactly five stars.” Another hum. “Kinda pretty in its own way, though. It’s getting a bit warmer. I saw—the other day, I looked out and saw these kids, there’s some grass a little bit away from… they were making daisy chains, I think. Was never good at… couldn’t get ‘em to tie right. So I’d just kinda tug at the grass, and… Hey, d’you know, some of the kids—like, our kids, I mean—they don’t even know about the buttercup thing, holding it to see if it like, glows, under your chin? I told Max about it when she got outta here—shh, she’s okay—and she just looked at me like I was crazy. She’s good at daisy chains, man, she told Lucas it was five dollars per flower and he paid it all, wore the damn thing on his wrist for the whole day. Stupidly sweet, but I couldn’t even say so or she’d, like, punch me.”

And Eddie’s used to painting a picture with words, used to creating fantastical landscapes out of thin air during campaigns. But as Steve goes on, talking about the kids (their kids), and flowers, and all the little signs of spring that he can’t see, Eddie falls asleep thinking that Steve’s given him the most beautiful, ever-changing view: how he sees the world.

-

Eddie doesn’t forget about the yearbook, but he doesn’t bring it up, simply because Steve keeps quiet about it.

It’s after a few weeks of the dust settling, reassurances that the nightmare’s over: of seeing Wayne and breaking down in tears of relief, of countless visits from everyone—mostly Dustin, second only to Wayne, of course; Eddie still says Steve’s tied for second place, at least, but Dustin insists it doesn’t count whenever Steve’s only there fleetingly to drop him off before heading to work.

It’s on an afternoon when he’s not expecting anyone, and Steve comes in, drops the yearbook right on top of his blankets.

Eddie looks down at it, hovers his hand over the front cover until Steve raises one eyebrow, as if to say, go ahead.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to find him. The picture is… there’s something beautifully imperfect about it, as if Steve had been caught by surprise by the flash going off when it did, lips tilted into a smile that’s relaxed rather than the typical rigid, picture-perfect look.

Eddie thinks that he finally gets what Wayne means whenever he says someone has ‘soulful eyes.’

And underneath the little box framing Steve’s picture, there’s…

There’s nothing. It doesn’t stand out, because not everyone on that page had opted to have a quote, but…

Eddie looks up. Steve shrugs, but his eyes are downcast.

“Yeah, sorry.” His voice is quiet; Eddie can hear a touch of embarrassment, and he hates it. “It’s not even… I didn’t even choose to keep it blank, really, the yearbook committee gave the deadline so far in advance, it… I had the time. Could’ve put anything.” He shrugs again. “Guess I couldn’t… guess I just, um… had nothing to say.”

Eddie closes the book. Sets it aside. Doesn’t take his eyes off Steve.

He gets it. If it’s even possible for him to be included in a yearbook, he’s confident he’d do the same—how do you even begin to sum up…? There’s nothing he could say about this year.

There are no words for it. For any of it.

But Eddie knows the ones that count.

“Tell me about work,” he says. He has the feeling Steve’s determinedly squeezed in a visit during his lunch break, his name tag askew.

Steve smiles, wrinkles his nose uncertainly. “But that’s so boring.”

“Nah,” Eddie says. “Maybe I like hearing what you have to say.”

Steve looks up finally; he smiles a little like he had in the photograph, as if something like a flash has surprised him.

And he talks about work.

But it’s more than that; it’s so much more. Eddie’s getting to see through a precious window.

He hears about how Steve noticed Robin wearing odd socks, and he only teased her about it when he was sure it wasn’t a deliberate twist on fashion she was trying out. How the sun meant it was hard to see the T.V, so he drew the blinds when no customers were around, made it feel like him and Robin had their own private cinema. And Eddie smiles fondly when Steve recalls smelling some kind of coconut perfume he couldn’t place, and Robin had started a list guessing names, just because he said it reminded him of a family vacation when he was four.

Eddie sees it all.

He doesn’t need clever one liners, or statements of grandeur.

He just needs Steve’s words.

[moonstruckme]

Hiya Mae!! How are you?? It’s been a little bit but I was hoping I could request a poly!marauders fic (+plus Lily if you’re comfortable with doing that if not it’s fine). This week is the 6th anniversary of my brothers passing and this year is a bit harder as I’m turning 18. Having such a milestone coming up and him not being here is sorta making me sick. I was wondering if maybe you could base the fic off of that? Or something to do with grief and them helping reader out. I’ve found great comfort in the abundance of love you portray with their relationship and I could do with a lil of it.

If not it’s totally fine don’t feel obligated. Hope you have a good week!!

Hi sweetheart, sorry I couldn't get this to you during the week you requested it. I was also dealing with a bit of grief at the time and it felt too raw to try for a while. I hope you're doing well and that you really enjoy being 18, even if those feelings are complicated by your loss <33

cw: mentions of death, grief

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 622 words

The sky is turning from deep blue to black outside when Sirus notices you’ve slipped into a melancholy. 

The only hint of it is in your tone. You’ve been quipping about the film you’re all watching like you always do, bouncing off his and James’ comments and Remus’ amused grunts, but there’s a falsity to the cheer in your voice. This is something you and James have in common; when Sirius or Remus are upset it permeates the area around them like a thick fog, but the two of you have a way of keeping it contained within yourselves, putting on counterfeit smiles. Sirius often wonders if it doesn’t hurt you more. 

He leans away from where he’s been resting his head on Remus’ pectoral, snaking an arm around your shoulders. 

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” he asks quietly. 

You shrug. Swallow. “Just thinking about them,” you murmur in reply. 

Sirius suspects this isn’t the full story, but he, too, knows the necessity of papering over certain pains. He doesn’t pry. 

Before the war—before Regulus—Sirius used to think that grief was the pain that came from the love you had for the lost person being ripped away from you. But even months after his brother’s death, all the love is still there. It’s amplified, if anything, every ounce of it demanding attention now that he can no longer take it for granted even a little bit. 

What went was the ritual of it all. The peculiar brand of happiness he’d felt around Reg, never easy but still there, buried beneath layers of troubled history and shared broodiness. The inside jokes they’d barely realized they had, things no one who wasn’t raised in their house would see the humor in. The surety that if they fought, they’d get a chance to make up. Sirius will never have those things with his brother again. In memories, maybe, but now they’ll always be tinged with the love so big it hurts. 

He wishes desperately he could keep you from hurting like that. 

He shuffles closer, awkwardly wrapping his other arm around you until he’s nearly covering your body with his. It’s like he thinks he can shield you, like he can protect you from grief after he’d failed to protect you from loss. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says. 

You shake your head, turning so it’s jammed in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Your face feels hot. “I don’t know what to do,” you choke out. 

Sirius squeezes you tighter. He gets it, but he doesn’t. He knows how it feels to grieve, but not how to grieve your person in your way. It’s an ache he can only approximate. 

“Sweetheart.” James’ voice sounds pained, and he gets up from Remus’ other side, rounding the couch to climb onto the armrest beside you. He rubs your back with one hand, the other coming to rest on Sirius shoulder, a comfort in case he needs it. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do, my love.” 

Sirius feels a hot tear slip down his neck into his shirt, and James winces as your shoulders hitch under his touch. Remus makes a soft pitying sound. 

“You’re alright.” He latches onto the last unclaimed part of you, rough hand soothing up your calf. “You’re okay.” 

“Sorry,” you manage, and Sirius squishes you punishingly in his arms, pressing a staunch kiss to the side of your head. 

“Don’t be silly,” he tells you. James makes a half-choked sound of agreement. “No sorries, okay?” 

You nod, the bump of your nose moving against Sirius’ neck. He gives you another kiss to show his approval. 

“You’re alright, darling,” Remus says again. “Take all the time you need. We’ve got you.” 

[wandaslovey]

Hey, just wanted to say love all ur mommy Wanda content and can’t help but reread them all the time.

I was just wondering if u would wright something along the lines of reader injuring her leg some how, like a sprained ankle, and is having trouble walking on it but is to stubborn to rest up and not walk on it. Hence mommy Wanda having to take manners into her own hands, however u wish to interpret that.

Possibly with praise sprinkled in plz

If not it’s all good :) 

Her Stubborn Girl

a/n: hi nonnie!! thanks for the request! hopefully this (sorta) lengthy drabble is the sort of thing you were looking for :))

a/n: i wrote this in 45 minutes so please forgive all spelling/grammar errors thaaanks🫶🏻🫶🏻

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•

you fumble with your keys, almost dropping them twice as you all but wrestle with them to stick it through the lock. you were tired physically and mentally. you had three in-person college courses every wednesday, and now being 4 weeks into the semester, you were seriously regretting your decision to be an “over-achiever.” your ankle hurt like a bitch. it was still healing from a sprain, but you hated walking around with those stupid crutches. you’d be damned if you drew more attention to yourself any more than your wrapped ankle already gave away. you finally enter your shared home with your girlfriend, wanda. you saw that her car was parked in the driveway, so she must have decided to work from home today. you huff, tossing your keys on the little table beside the door, carefully chucking your shoes off. you hear wanda’s feet padding against the hard wood floors to the kitchen. you mentally curse yourself as you know she’s going to immediately notice that you walked to your classes today with no crutches. you had hoped you’d have time to go and grab them from where you left them last but, no such luck.

“hi sweetheart, welcome h—“ wanda pauses as she rounds the corner, taking in your appearance and the lack of what should be the accompanying crutches. you offer her a weak smile and turn to get a water from the fridge, not in the mood for her to berate you for your carelessness.

“Y/N! did you seriously go to your classes today without your crutches??” she walks up to you from behind, her arm swiftly wrapping around your back to pull you carefully to the table. you sigh, running your fingers through your hair. you knew how sensitive she was when it came to your health and well-being. “yes. my ankle is almost healed,” you say to placate her, though you know putting so much weight on it today surely didn’t do you any favors. you could feel a throbbing sensation shooting up your leg, even though you were now sitting down. wanda takes the seat next to you, gently lifting your hurt ankle and settling it in her lap. “almost healed my ass…oh honey, look at it! it’s all swollen!” her fingers gently caress the area over her careful wrapping job. “you— stay right here.” she says, her tone chiding. she gently sets your leg to rest on the chair as she gets up to retrieve an ice pack.

she comes and sits back down, resettling your foot in her lap and gently placing the ice pack around your now extra swollen ankle. you suddenly feel a little bit guilty, knowing that you hurting yourself hurts her just as much—maybe even more sometimes. you didn’t mean to upset her. your shoulders slump forward, an apologetic look on your face as she looks at you with nothing but sternness. “i don’t take kindly to you not taking care of yourself Y/N. you know that.” your posture falls, the guilt weighing even heavier on yourself as her words affirm your suspicion. “i’m sorry, mommy.” you use her honorific, hoping it would help in smoothing her over.

your apology seems to fly in one ear and out the other as the firm expression remains plastered on her face. “you’re not going to put any more weight on this ankle of yours for the rest of the day. do you hear me?” you look down. avoiding her gaze as you nod your agreement. she grasps onto your chin with her thumb and first finger, lifting your head back up to look at her. “words. i need to hear you say it.” her grip on your chin is firm and you find that your previous defiant attitude when you first came home had all but vanished into thin air. “i won’t put any more weight on my ankle for the rest of the day,” you say quietly, your lip slightly pouty and your eyes wide, full of sincere apology. “good girl,” she nods, releasing her hold on your chin. she takes pity on you, knowing that she had scolded you enough already.

you sit in comfortable silence for several moments, her still holding the ice pack to your ankle. “how about we watch a movie together before i finish up my work for the day? then i can make us some dinner and you can tell me all you learned in your classes today.” you smile, quickly agreeing with her suggestion.

you move to stand, but she grips onto your foot to keep it there, giving you a warning look. “sorry..” you quickly readjust into your seat, remembering your recent promise to not walk on your bad ankle the rest of the day. she stands up, settling your leg back over the chair. “where did you leave your crutches?” she asks, looking around the room for them. you whine, not wanting to see or use those stupid things ever again. “don’t make me use those. i hate those things. they just make it more difficult to move around and they hurt my armpits..” you complain, your voice sounding petulant like a stubborn child.

she rolls her eyes at your tone, a small affectionate smile tugging at her lips before she suddenly reaches down and pulls you up into her arms. you make a small noise of surprise, but she makes no moves to put you down, instead carrying you to the couch that’s in front of the tv. she settles you onto the cushions, lifting both your legs so your feet were resting in her lap.

she lets you choose the movie and you put one on that you’ve both seen many times together. throughout the movie she’ll glance over at you, smiling kindly whenever your eyes meet hers. somewhere towards the end of the movie, her hands begin massaging your uninjured foot but you find the sensations felt more tickle-y than anything else. you squirm slightly in your seat, your foot twitching in her gently grasp. her lips curve into a knowing smile as she takes notice of your fidgeting.

“does that tickle, detka?” as she asks, she lightly scratches her fingernails over the arch of your foot. you press your lips together, unwilling to give her the reaction she was looking for.

“no,” you say stubbornly, barely glancing in her direction as you opt to keep staring at the screen ahead.

“oh, so you don’t mind if i do this then?” her fingers then move up your foot, tickling the sensitive little spaces in between your toes. you try to jerk and pull your foot back but she was quicker than you—using her other hand to firmly hold your ankle in place. a low whine and a stream of reluctant giggles bubble past your lips as her fingers scratch at your toes. “what’re you laughing at, huh? i thought you said this didn’t tickle…” she teases, keeping up her playful assault on your poor foot for a few more moments before stopping.

she leans closer to you, kissing you sweetly as she gives your foot a soft squeeze. she looks at you, love and adoration evident in her gaze. you melt under her affectionate look, feeling that warm fuzziness seep into your skin and brain.

“Y/N, i don’t ever want to see you without those crutches until the doctor gives you the all clear. if i do see that, you won’t like what i’ll have in store for you.” she turns more stern again for a moment, making sure she gets her point across. you decide to tease her a bit, her little tickle attack making you feel a little giddy still.

“like what? you’ll spank me?” you smirk slightly, knowing that that particular punishment isn’t normally so bad.

“oh no.. no, no. i know you enjoy your spankings far too much, my darling. i was thinking more along the lines of writing me 500 lines stating ‘i will take care of myself and obey my mommy.’”

she mimics your expression, also smirking as she knows you and how much you hate writing lines. you groan and her smirk stretches into a victorious smile.

“how about i throw in a sweetener? if you be the good little girl i know you can be, i’ll let you choose your reward once the doctor clears you.” her offer instantly makes you perk up, your eyes lighting up as several ideas instantly pop into your head.

“really??” you ask excitedly, almost bouncing in your place on the couch. she chuckles, nodding her head. “really, really.”

[slasherscream]

I don't normally like make requests from people if it's obvious I'm sorry for my awkwardness.

Anyway you were saying how you were really into Jordan li recently so am I and I've read every single fanfiction or every rant there is about them and I crave more. I have been in a angst/fluff mood and I haven't seen anyone do this idea either. I was thinking thinking maybe Jordan and reader gets into an argument (not really picky about what) and the argument gets really heated (you know how jordan shifts into their male form to Intimidate or get their point across) Jordan shifts into their male form which scares reader (I'm thinking reader doesn't have a good past with angry men) and reader backs away from them in fear Jordan notices and tries to comfort them but reader flinched when Jordan touches them. Reader then asks them to leave so they do but Jordan spends like a week trying to make the situation better.

(I would also like to put reader isn't scared of Jordan more so the action of the blatant Intimidation tactic they tried to use against reader. Reader is angry that jordan would try to scare them even if it wasn't on purpose it still hurt)

Jordan sorta just spends a week following reader around Like a lost puppy trying to treat reader like a absolute queen even if reader won't really acknowledge them until Jordan has an breakdown while drunk coming to readers dorm begging for forgiveness.

Again if its obvious I don't know how to make requests I'm sorry this has just been on my mind for so long.

A/N: this request is absolutely perfect, and exactly to my tastes. thank you for sending it, doll!

WORD COUNT: 4k+ under cut | hurt/comfort and angst/fluff

It’s hard sometimes, knowing when to push and when to just let Jordan be. Not at all a skill you learned over night. You’d gotten good at the push and pull of bringing them out of their shell back when the two of you had just been friends. Better at it than anyone else, at least. It was a slow process, but every second was worth it.

Now on the good days you don’t have to push at all. A hand on their arm. A coaxing smile or two. Any act of connection, no matter how small, enough to make them tell you what’s on their mind. Even if they scowl the entire time they let it out. It’s the letting it out at all that counts. Progress!

Today you miscalculated. It’s been a bad week. Jordan hadn’t dropped in the rankings, but their points took a small dip. They hadn’t been very active on their socials, busy doing work as Brink’s TA. But the point gap between where Jordan sits at #2 in the rankings, and where Andre sits at #3 is still a wide open chasm. 

It’d take something truly disastrous to knock Jordan from the spot they’ve held for three years now. But the rankings are more important than anything to Jordan. No matter how gently you try to bring logic into the situation, Jordan gets irritated quickly, accusing you of not taking it seriously. You often wonder how that could be, considering you’re in the top eight yourself, but you bite your tongue and don’t bring it up.

The group had tried to go out for lunch. It was okay at first, everyone making an effort to ignore the storm cloud Jordan cast over the table as they picked at their food. Then Andre had made some type of stupid joke. Not even about the rankings, but enough to make Jordan snap at him. The situation escalated so quickly that Cate had threatened to take off her glove and make everyone shut up. You paid your portion of the bill and dragged Jordan out before anyone could start up again. 

And now you’re here, somehow also on the shit list for not being supportive enough. As if being supportive isn't everything you do. Day in and day out.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side. You don’t honestly think it was an innocent comment, do you?” Jordan snaps, standing up from your couch to pace the length of your dorm room. 

“You know how Andre is. He gets sarcastic when he’s hungover, and he was packing a double whammy. He did coke and got drunk last night. He was just a little off. He wasn’t making a real dig at you.” You defend your friend, knowing Jordan will regret what she said at lunch once she’s calmed down. 

“Oh, so we’re all just supposed to tiptoe around his highness? If he was gonna be a dick during the entire thing he should have just skipped coming out with us.” Jordan’s eyes narrow in on your expression, the sudden pursing to your lips and looking away. “What?” She snaps.

You take a deep breath at the tone, “Well, Jordie, if you want me to be honest Andre wasn’t the only one who wasn’t on their best behavior today.” 

A beat of silence.

You look up and there goes Jordan rolling her shoulders back, eyebrows practically in her hairline and you sigh. You definitely should have brought up her attitude later. 

“You really are taking his side!” She scoffs in disbelief. 

“Nope. No, I am not, there are no sides. We’re all friends. Friends fight. I’m just trying to remind you that you actually are friends. You can’t just…” You trail off, uncertain. 

“I can’t just what?” She throws up her hands, volume raising. 

“You can’t act like this every time the rankings do something that isn’t spectacular for you. I know they mean a lot to you but you can’t take the numbers out on the people who care about you.”

“You just don’t get it-”

“But I do get it! We talk about it all the time. Your feelings are completely valid, the way you react to them isn’t. You’ve been giving Andre looks that could kill all week and he didn’t even do anything. If he was a little snappy at lunch, maybe he’s upset that his friend has been treating him like shit over something he barely cares about.” 

“Well if I’m so-” Jordan shifts, pitch of his voice deepening, on the verge of yelling, “-fucking awful why don’t you go run to Andre and cry about it together?” 

He only takes two steps towards the couch before you use your powers. It’s instinct, the way the forcefield bubbles up around you. 

Whatever Jordan was going to say next shrivels up and dies on his tongue. The only sounds in the room are the quiet hum your powers make when you use them, and the scared, panicked gasp you make from inside the forcefield you put up to protect yourself from him.

There’s a second where the two of you just stare at each other. Both in shock. 

“Baby-” Jordan tries taking another step forward, a small, barely there shuffle of his foot. His face falls when the forcefield gets a little louder, glows a little brighter. 

Jordan looks close to tears. It’s that expression that pulls you out of the animal state of fear you’d fallen into. You look away from them. Take a few heaving breaths. Do your best to not mix up faces of the past with your present and future.

Your forcefield flickers out slowly. A concentrated effort. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- I would never ever-'' Jordan shifts again. She rushes too fast into your space to kneel on the ground in front of you, her hands reaching for yours, desperate and clumsy.

When you flinch away, moving so you’re perched on the armrest of the couch, still trying to calm yourself down, she’s left with her hands grasping at air. “Baby, look at me. Please? Look at me, I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry that I… I’m sorry. I would never hurt you. I fucking swear I wasn’t-”

“I know, Jordan.” You shake your head, trying to stay calm. “Could you please….leave? I… I can’t calm down right now. I’m trying. I know you didn’t mean to… to scare me, but I need you to go.” 

“Baby, wait, fuck. Fuck, wait! I’m sorry. Let’s just talk. I can’t leave you alone like this. I’m sorry.” She’s panicking now, throat feeling like it’s closing up. 

She doesn’t try to reach for you again, but her hands feel like they’re burning from the effort it takes to keep them away from you. It’s instinct to hold you, to make it better, to pull you closer. She’s always been the place you run to when you’re scared, the shield you step behind when you need to feel safe. She doesn’t know what to do when you don’t even want to be near her.

“We’ll talk later. I’ll… I’ll have Cate come over so I’m not alone. Just.. leave.” Your voice breaks on a sob, and you’re begging her to leave, and that’s what makes Jordan head to the door, legs shaking. She’s never made you cry before. 

She’s glued to her phone the rest of the day, waiting for you to call. You don’t. 

⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊

You’ve been best friends since you were freshman. You haven’t gone longer than two days without talking in all that time since. No matter how busy you are. No matter how shitty either of you feels. Jordan doesn’t know what to do with the hours of the day that you usually fill. 

She breaks on the second day when you show up to class and move to sit by Luke on the other side of the room instead of with her. You don’t even look at her as you walk by. 

Class doesn’t start for another five minutes. The teacher isn’t even here yet, and she’s always late. Jordan moves to get up, already feeling like she’s choking on all the words she needs to say to you to fix this, but is stopped by a firm grip around her wrist. She’s about to snap when she realizes it’s Cate, taking up your usual spot in the seat that isn’t up for grabs because it’s Your Seat. 

“Don’t make the situation worse. She just wants to go to class. Don’t hound her, Jordan.”

“Hound her?” Jordan’s voice raises, incredulous. “She’s my girlfriend. I need to talk to her.” 

“You need to apologize.” Cate bites. “Dick.” 

“That’s what I was trying to do before you stopped me.” Jordan speaks through gritted teeth.

“How about you try apologizing after she’s done all her classes? That way, when you inevitably upset her, she doesn’t hole herself up in her room all day crying. And feel bad about missing class on top of it. You know… the way she spent all of yesterday?” 

“She cried all day?” Jordan’s shoulders sag, voice getting smaller. 

Cate softens, patting Jordan’s hand.  “It’s not just about you, and you know that. Triggers like this really fuck with people. And she’s also pissed that she’s triggered in the first place. Let her cool off.”

⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊

He makes it a few hours before he’s trailing after you. 

He can tell by the tension in the line of your spine that you know he’s there. But you don’t outright tell him to get lost, so Jordan can’t stop himself from following you around. Even if you don’t want him there. 

He sits across from you as you study in the library. Makes puppy dog eyes at you the entire time. He can’t be bothered to unpack his bag. It’d be useless to pretend he’ll do anything besides watching you.  

Two hours in, he gets up and leaves, hating the way your shoulders relax as he turns to go. 

He comes back twenty minutes later with your favorite foods and drink from the best local coffee shop. You don’t reach for any of it. He’s always loved how stubborn you are, how you stick to your ideas. Your principles. How steadfastly you make up your mind. Right now he’s just a little terrified of that same stubbornness. Remembers when you’d only been friends, that first year of peeling one another open, feeling each other out. 

(“I’ll never do it, Jordan.” You’d whispered vehemently, drunk and mad and beautiful. 

“Do what?” 

“Be with anyone who tries to fucking cow me into submission. It’s fucked. I won’t do it. I’ve had enough of it.” 

You’d passed the bottle you’d just had pressed to your lips and Jordan had tried not to think too hard about it, even when he tasted the remnants of your sticky, sweet lip gloss beneath the vodka.) 

He doesn’t get up to leave again until you do. 

Jordan walks you to your dorm, but trails a few steps behind you. He tried walking directly beside you at first, but your hands brushed together and the look you gave him was cold enough to freeze blood. 

So-

-behind it is. 

Jordan doesn’t get the chance to say goodnight before you slam the door in his face as loudly as possible.

⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊

Jordan doesn’t push her luck by trying to walk you to your classes the next morning. She does wake up extra early to buy you the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers she could find. She leaves them outside your door and goes to class, hoping you’ll at least acknowledge her, the next time you see her.

During your first shared class of the day you walk in holding the bouquet of flowers. Jordan perks up in her seat, holding her breath. You do finally look at her. You make direct eye contact as you throw the flowers into the trash can at the teacher’s desk.

Jordan does not break her pen in half when Andre whispers “yikes” under his breath.

⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊

Two more days and Jordan feels like he’s going insane. He knows you feel worse. One glance at the carefully nonchalant expression you’ve worn all week tells him that. Putting on a mask is nothing for you. That look is the first thing you learned how to do in the top ten. 

You’d never hidden the way you felt around him before. Not like this. His skin keeps buzzing with the urge to corner you. Jordan needs the two of you to talk about what happened. But he’s already walking the world’s thinnest line. 

And he knows he can’t force you, if you’re not ready. 

Another thing he knows: when you’re this upset you don’t clean. Simultaneously, when your room gets messy your depression gets worse. He skips one of your mutual classes of the day and lets himself into your dorm with the key you gave him during first year. 

Jordan looks around, wincing at the chaos. You never let it get this bad. Not even during your most soul crushing finals. He starts by throwing away the trash. The tissues you wiped your tears with. The takeout containers. Pages of your notebooks you ripped out, carelessly thrown around the room. You take awful notes in class when you’re distracted. He hates that he’s distracting you.

He wipes down every surface with your favorite scented cleaner. Dusts your books. Sweeps and mops. Changes your sheets and grabs the brightest, happiest color comforter you have stashed in your closet to put on the bed. As he adjusts the pillows he thinks about how often you spend the night at each other’s dorms. Jordan wonders if you’ve been struggling to sleep like he has. 

He hesitates, but goes to his room down the hall to grab his cologne. He spritzes it lightly over the bed and hopes you still find the way he smells comforting. 

Next is your laundry. He starts up a few loads, irons and puts away the clothes that were sitting in a wrinkled heap on your couch. You’ve always hated doing your laundry. 

He’s heading back to your room, a full laundry basket of clean clothes under each arm when you run into each other.

“Are those my clothes?” You ask, forgetting that you aren’t exactly speaking to him in your moment of confusion. 

“Yeah… I’m… I was cleaning my room. Doing some stuff. Figured I’d do a few of your loads too, while I’m already at it.” He shoots for casualness, knows he fails miserably.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say, words stiff and uncomfortable. 

“I know I just…” Jordan shrugs, relieved to be standing within a few feet of you after days of silence, and feeling pathetic over how happy something so small makes him. “Why don’t you go get something to eat with Cate while I finish up here?” 

“Finish up what?” You ask.

“I still gotta put these away.” 

You sigh, wanting the conversation to end, “You don’t have to put my clothes away, Jordan. Or wash them. I’m quite capable of doing it myself.”

Jordan takes a step back when you make a reach for one of the baskets under his arms. “I know that! Just let me do it. Doing your laundry always pisses you off. I’ve got it.” 

A battle of wills ignited. You, staring him down. Jordan, trying not to squirm. He wants to try apologizing again but doesn’t know if he’ll only make it worse.

“Please, baby? Go somewhere nice with Cate. My treat.” He puts down a laundry basket (behind him, so you can’t take it) to grab his phone from his pocket, and does something you can’t see. 

When you hear the particular chime your banking app makes when you get a Zelle deposit you roll your eyes. You don’t bother checking your phone and seeing how much he sent. You know it’s too much. But if you say anything he’ll just say you and Cate have expensive tastes (which…true.)

“Maybe you can catch a movie too? I still gotta finish up with your bathroom.” 

“Jordan.” 

“Just,” Jordan shifts, putting down the other laundry basket and slowly reaching out to grab your hand with hers. She could almost cry when you let her touch you. “I know you’re fucking pissed at me. And I know you’re still too upset to talk about it. But…. fuck, please just let me take care of you. Please. I have to do something. I can’t just sit around, after I made you feel like this. It’s driving me nuts. I’m supposed to-” 

You stop her, putting a hand on her cheek and sighing, “Okay, Jordan. I’ll go hang out with Cate while you finish.” 

“Don’t ‘hang out’, go get dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.” She says, sullen and staring up at you, playing with your fingers while you’re still letting her touch you, the first time in days. 

“I’ll head to Cate’s.” 

“Nah, head to Luke’s. They’re studying together right now.” Jordan takes a risk, stepping into your space slowly, giving you the time to move away. She leans in and kisses your cheek, gentle. When you don’t move away she can’t help herself, kisses the edge of your lips too. 

You don’t kiss her back, but you give her hand a squeeze as you pull away. You stop halfway down the hall before you turn back to look at Jordan. “Call Cate and tell her she better not be fucking Luke by the time I get to his dorm.” 

Jordan laughs. Your face is a little more relaxed as you turn away this time.

⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊

On Friday the group goes out to the club. They chose one of your favorite haunts, hoping it would entice you enough to join. You still declined the invitation. Everyone knew you would. They still wanted to try. 

You claimed you had a lot of work to catch up on. 

“She hates me. She fucking hates me.” Jordan groans into his hands, already three drinks and two shots in. 

“Well, let’s not panic.” Luke says. 

“Or be dramatic.” Andre snorts, taking a shot of his own. “You two are obsessed with each other. Relax.” 

“Relax?!” Jordan tenses, “My girl won’t fucking talk to me. How am I supposed to relax?” 

“She talked to you yesterday.” Andre drawls. 

“That wasn’t anything. We usually-”

“-Spend every free second of the day together? We know.” Luke teases. When Jordan doesn’t even smile he winces and slides him another shot. 

“She’s not even that mad. She’s more upset than anything.” Cate says, cuddling into Luke’s side. 

Jordan’s eyes follow the movement and he swallows at the distinct lack of your own weight leaning into him. You always get touchy when you’re tipsy. Climbing on top of him, clinging to him like glue. It’s his favorite part of nights out together. That and the playful booing you guys get from the group. 

Andre cuts back in, “I’m serious, dude. Relax! You guys have been together for how long now-”

“Three years.”

“-yeah, exactly. Since the fucking building of the pyramids. You two will be fine. She knows you didn’t mean anything by it. One fight won’t kill you.” 

“This wasn’t a fight, though. I fucked up! You didn’t see the look on her face. When she used her powers… I mean, fuck! You know? She was scared of me.”

“You know that’s not true, Jordan.” Luke protests. 

Jordan runs his hands through his hair, ruining the carefully slicked back style.

“Let’s just get you another drink. Come on, dude.” Andre wraps an arm around Jordan, hauling him to his feet and pulling him towards the bar. 

⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊

You get woken up by the sound of knocking on your door. Loud knocking. You keep your eyes closed, hoping whoever it is will go away. You don’t even want to be awake. Let alone socializing. 

The knocking gets louder. Exhausted, you drag yourself out of bed. You glance at your phone on the bedside table as you get up. It’s three in the morning. Now you’re exhausted and pissed. 

You stomp over to the door, wrenching it open, prepared to cuss someone out. You deflate when you see who it is. “Oh, hey.”

Jordan is leaning heavily on the door frame, staring at you with watery, red eyes. She looks like the walking dead. “Baby. Fuck, did I wake you up? I thought you’d still be awake. You said you were pulling an all-nighter.”

“I was tired. Just wanted to sleep.” You shrug. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Still at the club, took an uber back. Too fucked up for anything else.” She mutters.

“That’s good, Jordan.” You say. 

“You haven’t called me Jordan since freshman year. What happened to Jordie?” She sighs. 

Your face softens. “Baby…”

“No, wait, just let me…” Jordan leans her forehead against the door-frame, closing her eyes tight. “I’m sorry. I fucked up big time. I’m sorry that when I get pissed I take it out on everyone around me. I’m sorry that I don’t fucking listen when you’re just trying to make me feel better. I’m sorry I yelled… I’m sorry I shift-”

“Whoa, hey.” You cut her off, shocked. “You shifting isn’t the problem, Jordan. Fuck, come inside, honey.” You say, taking her hand and pulling her inside. 

You sit the two of you on the couch, clicking on the light so you can see each other. You move so you’re facing each other, pulling her hands into your lap. “First off let’s set one thing straight. You shifting is never the problem, okay?” 

“You got so fucking scared.” Jordan looks away, hair falling into her face.

“Not of you.. Just the fucking… optics of it! I don’t ever want you to be something you’re not. And you’ve got the incredible gift of being able to be whatever you feel like being any time you want to.” You reach out and touch her cheek, guiding her to look at you, “I don’t want you to not do that. I wouldn’t ever want you not to do that, okay?”

“Okay.” She says. There’s a moment of silence, then Jordan shifts. He looks for any sign of fear or hesitation, holding his breath. When he doesn’t see any he relaxes. “But I scared you so bad you used your powers.” 

“Yeah, that did happen.” You nod, caressing his cheek with your thumb, “Maybe it’s just a little scary when someone bigger and stronger than me starts yelling like that. Also, invulnerable. Let’s not forget that. Food for thought.” 

He closes his eyes, “I’m an idiot.” 

“For yelling at me? Yeah, just a little. Don’t yell at me like that no matter what form you’re in. That's always scary. Couples talk. They don’t yell. Most of the time. We can’t be the couple that does that.”

“I’ll never yell like that again. Either form. I promise.” Jordan says, “Can I hold you? It’s been a fucking week. I’m losing my mind.” 

You laugh, climbing into his lap and Jordan sighs, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can. He tucks your head into his neck. “I missed you like fucking crazy.” 

“Missed you too.” You sigh, “Stay the night?” 

“You’re not leaving my sight for the next two months.” He laughs, pulling you closer.

“Only two months? That’s fucked up, I thought you missed me.” You tease. 

“Shut up.” He scoffs, kissing the side of your head. 

You snuggle closer, letting the tension of the week drift away.

“You yell at me like that again and your only hope is being invulnerable, actually. I’ll put you through a wall.” You kiss his shoulder cheerfully. 

“I’d do it before you got the chance.”

You burst into laughter and he pulls your head away from his shoulder so he can see you the way you’re supposed to look around him. Happy. Content. He can’t stop himself from kissing you. You can’t stop yourself from kissing back. 

[mcverse]

Hey don’t know if your doing KNB anymore but-

Could you do HC’s on all the boys playing with readers hair? Like reader is having troubles sleeping or something and the boys just play with their hair?

✧ Type: HC

✧ Warnings: Hurt to comfort sorta, fluff everywhere, maybe ooc but it’s love man, slight crackhead energy if your squint, curses, not proof read/spelled checked

✧ Side Bar: You said or something so I did something ✨ joke aside I had so much fun with this if you can’t tell. Thanks for the req! this is actually safe for someone 17+ despite the warning for the rest of the blog

Credit: atamanrr on tt

— Akashi

College finals are coming around fast. And you were stressing out.

You weren’t like your brilliant boyfriend, who always guarantee he’ll come out on top every time.

You procrastinate, you mess up, and you forgot. The polar opposite of your King, it still puzzles you to this day why he wants you.

But disregarding all that, you still tried to study to make up for it and it helped a bit that he offered his aid. What a sweet man ugh.

Sort of. Not really.

While he looks completely in his element as he practice quiz himself, GETTING EVER ANSWER CORRECT, you were over it as you sat across from him.

Your lips were borderline bruised as you abused it throughout the session, running your fingers frustratingly through your hair as you feel stumped over a word problem.

Akashi notices, of course he does. He’s an observant person and an attentive boyfriend. It was clear that you needed a break but he knew how stubborn you could be.

So he sets his pen down, getting up to come around to where you are—all of which you don’t notice until he’s pulling you up and dragging you towards the crouch.

“Seijuro?” You question him when he casually drops on the cushions with a deep sigh, dragging you with him. He doesn’t say anything as he wraps his arms around your lower back and use his free hand to rake his fingers through your hair, albeit much less aggressive than you had, “Sei.” You try again, this time getting a reply.

“You need a break.” He says, never ceasing his movements. If anything he pulls you closer, so your flush against his body, your head on his chest, “No buts. It’ll still be there when you get back.” He adds when he sees you about to protest.

You hate when he’s right. Always at the worst times too. More than he’ll ever know, especially when he gets what he was aiming for easily. Your supposed to be independent.

Instead his stupid warmth was pulling you in, the light scraping of his nails that occasionally graze your scalp slowly putting you into a small trance.

You mumble a quick, barely audible, “Thank you,” as you drift into your first nap of the day. It’s a good thing when you miss the curve of his lips as he glance down at your peaceful expression, otherwise you’ll try and tease him endlessly.

“Anything for you, my empress/prince.”

— Aomine

This was hard for him. No it wasn’t because he can’t show affection. Aomine is actually very affection to his lady, maybe too much that it’s borderline manhandling. You don’t complain.

It’s hard for him because he really hates to see you beat yourself up, comparing yourself in the mirror to his magazines.

Sometimes he wish he never kept them, not liking how insecure you got. He knows they can’t compare to you and you know it too… you just can’t help yourself most days.

He feels guilty each time you tell him that it was okay to keep things like that since you were real and they weren’t. He didn’t deserve such understanding after causing your tears indirectly.

And so every time, Aomine waste zero time in wrapping his arms around you, crowding you so your face was buried in his chest.

“I know,” you whine, eyes wet with weightless tears and nose beginning to drip, but it was the least of both your worries, “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. They’re so pretty!” you squeeze around his waist, the very same you can barely reach around.

Aomine listens. He listens and watches every choke cry, every fragile wail, every doe and tearful eyed glance up at his face.

He didn’t bother to explain again that it wasn’t about them being pretty because he knew it would make it worst. He was smart enough to realize that.

It didn’t break his heart any less though. He’s not sure how many more these sessions he can take without getting rid of the whole stash.

Because nothing was really worth seeing you like this.

Aomine sighs through his nose, pushing your head back against his chest after you glance up at him one more time, running his fingers through your hair to smooth you; a method that always worked. He was anxious, despite his calming demeanor—you can hear it in his heart.

The same beat that lore you to close your eyes, clinging on to the man that brings up such insecurities unintentionally. When your shoulders slump, he picks up with your head now rested on his shoulder. He still doesn’t stop his movements in your hair as he takes you to the shared bedroom.

“It’s alright, baby,” he’ll mumble as he lays beside you with his arm under your head for support. His hands still wringing themselves in your hair, but occasionally drift to your caress your cheek as he watches you sleep, “I won’t make you feel like this again.”

He kept true to his word. Threw the whole stash away after waking up from the nap.

As much as he cared for those magazines, he cares about you more. He’d be damned if he let a fake thing mess up a good one.

— Kagami

You have been dating Kagami for a while, almost a year. So it was safe to say he has seen you in all the craziest states you can conjure up.

To name a few: days where you’re too lazy to wear makeup (makeup is genderless) , a few random hormonal pimples, fresh out the shower with your hair sticking to your head like the ring antagonist.

He’s seen it all.

He’s also dealt with your mini tantrums or mood changes that sometime went along with them. That’s what a partner is supposed to do. Take the good and the ugly, not one or the other.

This time was no different, you were getting ready to go out to the shopping center but ever since you woke up, your hair has not been cooperative.

This only led Kagami to assume you were frustrated, especially based on the loud huffs and weird growls you’ve been letting out.

He could hear your down the hall as he’s making a sandwich, cursing as you wrestle with your hair. It’s when you let out a loud ‘“Fucking stupid ass hair be submissive” did he enter your room.

“Babe, are you almost done?” He asks, even though he can see you aren’t, which earns a glare briefly sent his way before you focus back on your hair.

“Do I look done, babe?” You mock back.

There’s the attitude he loves.

Kagami didn’t get it. This was probably the most tame your hair has every looked but your fussing over one off section.

If anything… He’s putting down his sandwich and dusting his hands off with purpose.

“What are you doing?” You shout, watching a he stalks up behind you to rack his fingers through your hair. On a normal day this would be soothing, but he wasn’t doing it to help.

“Taiga, this looks fucking worst!” You whine, slapping his hand away as you stare, mouth agape at the mess he help create.

He simply grins, “I like it.”

“Please tell me that was the clean hand…”

He thinks you look hotter with messy hair. His favorite time of the day was morning because he got to see you first thing, hair wildly misplaced.

— Kise

It was supposed to be a leisure day. A simple day where you can stay inside to finally finish this new Netflix show called “sanctuary”, while not be judged for eating half a cake. Alone.

But then your fantasy is disrupted because your reminded your boyfriend was Kise, and he was never not clingy.

He shows up unannounced, as he always does with his “I miss you so much baby” type shit.

You were a little annoyed, just a little. Your day was all planned out, so it’s to be expected. Just as it was expected to know it won’t go that way due to Kise.

Reluctantly, you let him in because he was a little too upbeat and bright, compared to the darkness and coolness that your apartment gave.

There wasn’t really a different with Kise being there.

Except no personal space and him eating more of your cake then you, which might be a shocker but Kise only ever let’s loose with you.

You were his safe space, and he liked to return the favor, regardless of how little.

Kise was sitting up right on the sofa, while you were laying your head on Kise lap, both of you equally engrossed in the show, and still semi hungry after the cake was gone but too lazy to get up for something else.

You got startled when he subconsciously starts petting your head. Did he think your were a pet or something? But your thoughts were eased away when his petting turns into wringing his fingers through your hair, scratching pleasantly at your scalp from time to time.

There were moments he’ll twirl it around his finger like a little school girl being nervous around her crush. You thought it was really cute, so you had to voice it.

“You’re so cute, Ryo.” you blurt randomly. He still his movements, blinking before looking down at your with flushed cheeks,

“I didn’t do anything.” he says, resuming his movements.

“Even when you’re not doing anything, you’re crazy cute.”

“[Name] -cchi!”

— Kuroko

It was fall, how beautiful the colors change. It was a perfect temperature—in Japan. America was a whole different story, let’s not get into that though.

Anyway, it’s date night with Kuroko. Every Friday, like clockwork, unless something came up. Thankfully, it didn’t!

You both just got done eating at this new place you saw and of course, Kuroko had no complaints but didn’t finish his food.

Luckily, you guys got to take it to go without any extra charge. Now your both just casual strolling down the streets, hand and hand.

But then Kuroko was pulling you in a random direction, that you soon found out was a park.

“Testu?” you call to him, peering at him curiously. He only looks back at your for a second, and the warmth from his eyes was enough for you not to question any further.

He’s a really sweet boyfriend, ugh.

At some point during the walk, you saw a pretty tree that still somehow has a lot of leave on it and the colors were too gorgeous to pass up a photo.

Instead of taking a photo of just the tree, you told Kuroko to take a picture of you with it.

So there you were standing under the tree, posing awkwardly as people walk by and wait for your boyfriend to take the picture.

But he takes forever. He has the phone up, the app’s open but he just pauses as your pouting.

“Testu! Take the picture,” you whine, body going tense as you struggle to hold the pose. When it looks like he’s going to take the photo, he lowers the phone and walks over to you. That only confuses you more, “What are you doing?”

He’s reaching up to your face as you stare at him skeptically, but he skips your face and goes right to your hair, where he runs his finger through it, “You have something in your hair. It’ll ruin the photo.”

How considerate is he? A+++

You thank him, obviously, when he gets it out. And you thought that’s was the end of it, that he’ll finally take your picture.

No, Kuroko is still wringing his hand through your hair.

He’s smiling softly to himself, completely forgetting about the task at hand. It takes you clearing your throat to bring him back to earth. Even then, his hand doesn’t leave your hair. He just waits patiently for you to speak.

“The photo, Tetsuya?” you remind him, with a tilt of your head.

His mouth forms a “o” and he finally removes his hand, “Sorry. Your hairs really soft today.” He then walks back to where he was before, pointing the phone at you as if what he said didn’t make you red in the face.

— Murasakibara

The clock read 2 am when your staring up at the ceiling.

You were exhausted but your mind refused to let your rest.

The lie would be a big one if you said you didn’t know why. Despite your good day with nothing eventual happening, your brain found ways to nitpick always.

It was 2:54 when you decided you’ll have a late night snack, maybe watch some tv to lull you to sleep.

But it was 20 minutes later when your walking into the living room to see Murasakibara already on the couch and not in the bedroom where you left him.

Murasakibara isn’t a light sleeper, but he knows when something’s different despite being sleep. When he doesn’t feel you hugging his side, he lazily gets up to find you.

He finds you in the kitchen, making yourself a half pb&j sandwich. He immediately knows it’s one of those nights where you can’t sleep just from that.

Instead of letting his presence known, he goes to the couch and waits for you, already knowing if he did bother you that you’ll try and get him back to bed and leave again.

It’s almost comical seeing his big frame spread across a couch just a few inches too short for him.

“Atsu, you should be in bed.” You remind him, walking over to him. He looks up at your drowsily, a pout already playing at his lips.

“Hope you got enough for me too.” He ignores your statement, opening up the blanket you originally got to get comfy on the couch alone, “I’m hungry.”

You get confused at whether he was actually referring to food or you, after all, this situation happens often and the outcomes are unpredictable since it’s him.

Murasakibara sees your hesitation and grows impatient, instead reaching out to pull you to him and force you in the blanket himself.

“The food, Atsu!” Your protests fell on death ears, with you trying to keep it from getting trapped within the covers.

He opens his mouth and pulling you closer to him. One of his hands pushes your head to his chest and now he’s running his fingers through your hair as if to shush you from saying more, “Feed me.”

Your trying to pull away, but don’t prevail, “There isn’t enough for you, you giant!”

“Then I’ll just have to eat you.”

Ask box ✧ M.List ✧ Previous Fic ✧ Navigation ✧ Queue

[lucysarah-c]

Not sure if this is like, allowed to be answered and feel free not to of course. But reaction to Levi finding out someone tried to assault his s/o, or just hurting them in general like a more targeted instance rather than a battle, even before they are partners and could just be friends, you think more of a quick death or Levi would get sorta sadistic?

Have a great one 🐞 and thanks for always feeding us amazing works

Hi dear! Ah, no one has called me "bug" in years!!! Haha, thank you—that was so sweet of you!

Don’t thank me! Thank you for reading and stopping by my blog.

I really like this ask… Maybe because I’ve had a similar scenario in mind for my fic, but I just can't seem to find the right approach to it. I’ll try my best here! I’m 100% a "violence doesn’t solve anything" kind of person, and even when someone is truly horrible, I can't stand seeing them get hurt, especially physically. I’m that "sensitive" type, sorry haha. I feel Levi would say something similar to what my mother always tells me: "Don’t try to be more Catholic than the Pope" (a saying we have in Argentina, meaning "Don’t be too nice because people will take advantage of you. Be a little bit tough when necessary").

So, I’ll be completely honest with you: No, this ask doesn’t make me uncomfortable. But I do believe that Levi would resort to violence in certain situations. Levi killed a couple of guys just because they messed with Isabel’s hair. If his special someone (be it a friend, girlfriend, etc.) got hurt or was assaulted, Levi wouldn’t wait to see if she filed a report or went to the police.

He would simply stare at her and demand, "Who was it? Do you know them? Can you identify them?"

If it happened recently and she still shows signs of the struggle, she might try to downplay it. "It’s over now… It doesn’t hurt that much—"

"I didn’t ask if it hurt or if it was over. I asked who did it," he’d reply firmly.

She might avoid giving straight answers, trying to brush it off, perhaps out of shock, embarrassment, or fear—fear for Levi and the trouble he might get into. "I already filed a report and—"

"Have you ever seen any of those bastards behind bars because of a report?" Levi would counter. "Who was it? Give me a name."

"I pressed charges—"

"I’m sorry to break it to you, but men aren’t scared of charges. They know they can get away with it. They know they have friends who will bail them out, who will erase the charges, who will stand up for them," Levi explained. "Do you know what the only thing those assholes fear is? Being treated and beaten down the way they treat others. Beasts like them only understand their own language."

If the person responsible is someone Levi can’t directly deal with, like a higher-ranking officer or an MP, he’d still find a way to make them pay. He’d beat them up so thoroughly and probably in public to humiliate them. Levi knows the military can't afford to lose him, so while he might not be able to kill them, he’d ensure they couldn't sit straight for a long time. The most sadistic I can imagine him being is if he beats them so badly that they end up begging for mercy. And then Levi, lifting them by their hair, would say, "Don’t beg me—beg her."

Now, if the perpetrator is a regular citizen… they’re dead without a second chance. I can’t see Levi being sadistic in the sense of torturing someone, but he wouldn’t give them a quick death either.

So, that’s it. I hope I managed to write this well enough!

Thank you so much!

Have a lovely day.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee @galactict3a @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[lovebugism]

«Remembering the littlest of things — activities they like and dislike, favourite brands of stationery, go-to ice cream flavour, choice of popcorn» with lovesick eddie 🥰🥹

thanks for requesting :D i sorta wrote this as a part of the tcar universe but it can be read as a standalone fic!

summary: the one where eddie munson is the best boyfriend ever when you're feeling poorly (established relationship, hurt/comfort cw reader has a period and a history of bad boyfriends)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You cry into your pillow like you just got your heart broken.

You didn’t, though. You’re just overtly emotional against your will and so full of love that you don’t know what to do with it. 

And even though you’re weeping like a total maniac, Eddie stays at your side — rubbing up and down your back with a warm hand and trying his best not to laugh at your misplaced misery.

“I’m sorry, babe…” the boy murmurs over your sniffling. His thumb swipes soothingly over your trembling shoulder before his palm falls back down your spine again. “Didn’t mean to make you cry…”

You shake your head and swallow through a tight throat. “No, it’s not your fault,” you retort quickly, voice wet with tears. “I’m fine— I know I seem mental, but I’m fine, okay? I’m just emotional.”

Eddie fights back another laugh. You’re not looking at him, though, so he grins as big as he wants. “I know, babe. That’s why I got you ice cream. It’s supposed to help with the cramps.”

A poorly held-back sob tumbles from your mouth.

‘Cause he did get you your favorite ice cream, right after you told him you got your period. You felt too poorly to hang out, so he decided to come to you, and he didn’t waste a second. You’ve spent so long crying about it now that the carton is melting on your bedside table. 

It only makes you feel worse.

Eddie winces when he fails to comfort you. “Sorry…”

“Stop being so nice to me! It’s making me sad!” you blurt, lifting your head from the pillow and looking at him over your shoulder. Your eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, your brows are twisted with agony, and your face is blotchy with the heat of your emotion. 

Eddie grins. He doesn’t know how you manage to look so pretty all the time.

“Sorry,” he repeats, though his lopsided smile says otherwise. His ringed fingers dig softly into the base of your spine, where your cramps have seemingly migrated. He tilts his head and scrunches his nose. “I’d try to love you less, but I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I did.”

“Eddie!” you shout when your eyes start to burn all over again.

A chuckle spills from his rosy mouth. He’s amused by your dramatics but still obviously sympathetic of you. “Okay, that was mean… But I meant it.”

“I’m just not used to all this, you know?” you mumble, fatigued by your own tears and lingering period pains. You turn to lie down again, burying your face into your pillow with the ardency of someone wanting to melt into their mattress.

Eddie resumes his absentminded petting. “Hm?”

“My last boyfriend would barely talk to me when I was on my period. He thought it was gross,” you confess, distracting yourself from the dull discomfort in your back and abdomen by picking at the fuzz on your blanket. “I bled on his sheets once, and he wouldn’t even look at me. I think he would’ve actually broken up with me if I didn’t wash them after.”

Eddie’s chest stings with withheld anger. It’s like you’ve shoved a red-hot knife into his sternum and twisted. He doesn’t know how anybody could be anything but gentle with you. 

He wishes the world had been kinder to you. He wishes your past had been easier. He hopes that maybe he can make your future worth looking forward to, though. If he can be good enough to you to make you forget about every asshole that’s screwed you over, it would’ve been worth it.

“I know it’s not good to wish death on people, so I won’t, but I hope nothing good ever happens to that asshole,” Eddie tells you, totally serious but covering his rage with a teasing inflection. “Like, I hope his pillow is always warm on both sides and that his socks are always rotated just enough to make him uncomfortable when he puts them on. Nothing serious, you know? Just enough torture to make him slowly go insane.”

You smile at him, finally. It’s weak and weighed down, wavering softly at the edges, but it’s a sincere thing you flash over your shoulder nonetheless. “I’m glad we’re on the same page,” you quip with a soft laugh.

Eddie leans down to kiss you, even though you’re still a bit weepy and sniveling. He presses his rosy mouth against your own and lingers there — an innocuous, languid peck. Your lips click softly when he pulls away.

Your glassy, doe eyes flit between both of his chocolate ones when you go silently serious. “Thanks for being so nice to me,” you murmur like you might’ve burdened him in some way.

Eddie scoffs and lies more intently at your side. Still in his day clothes and sitting over the covers, he curls in behind you. One hand props up his head, and the other spreads out on your stomach over the blanket. “Don’t thank me. I’m your boyfriend. It’s, like, my job to be nice to you— I like being nice to you.”

“I know…” you mumble as you settle into Eddie’s warmth.

You’re still getting used to that. You’ve been so conditioned to beg for love that you don’t know what to do when it lays willingly at your feet. You’ve gotten too used to being treated like shit, and now you hardly feel deserving of the barest minimum. Eddie’s so sweet to you that it makes you feel like a burden.

“Yeah, so buckle up, sweetheart,” the boy says, laughing into your ear as he noses at your hair. The sound is a honeyed, heavenly one. The breath of it fans warm against your cheek. “You got a whole fuckin’ lifetime of this shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah. Can’t wait to be nice to you forever. It’s gonna be metal.”

A grin pulls slow at your lips. You bury it into the pillow like a giddy teenager.

[totallynotasimp67]

Ghost x Combat Medic!Reader

I don’t feel like finishing this lmao, this was supposed to Goap/Reader but like I said I don’t feel like finishing this, enjoy I guess

Also, I didn’t actually do any research into the cyanide thing I just remember it from a Wonder Woman movie, I also used google translate for a singular word

*Gaol - Love

Not a clue if it actually means that and I don’t really care lol

~~~~~~~~

“Ghost, How Copy?” The coms device crackles in the Lieutenants ear

“All good over here”

There a slight pause as Ghost ponders why you contacted him from base camp

“Ahh, good, there’s been a minor situation back here”

Ghost freezes, did one of his soldiers get hurt, did Johnny get hurt, did you get hurt, questions flood his mind but you speak before he can

“One of the enemy tried to play recon, tried to see what we had, was a fool that one”

Shit, Ghost thought, his favorite medic, though he wasn’t sure of his feelings, was in danger, he had to get there fast

“Stay hidden, I’ll be there soon… did you say ‘tried’”

“Aye, he’s currently out cold and tied to a chair, although I can’t say the bindings are the greatest, used what what was lying around”

A wave of relief washed over the Lieutenant as he allowed a sigh of relief pass his lips

“Hold your position, if I can’t to you myself I’ll make sure another soldier can”

He hated the thought of you being taken care of by another soldier but he hated the thought of you being hurt or worse more

“Aight, I’m almost finished my ‘examination’ last thing is his mouth”

Ghost wanted to question why you were ‘examining’ the enemy, he couldn’t dwell on it too long he had to get over there as soon as possible

“Soap. How copy?”

“Second floors clear L.T. ye need somethin’” Soap questions

“Sorta, one of the enemy slipped by and is being held back at base camp”

Soap understands now, Ghost’s worried about you, Soap had spared with you a few times per your request, he knows your rather strong but he knew that before you asked to spar, you treated wounded soldiers on and off the field, holding them down or dragging their limp body was nothing new to you, Soap knew it, surely Ghost did too, maybe the rational part of his mind wasn’t working, only caring for your safety

“Aye, all most finished ‘ere, scan the grounds make sure no one slips by then head back, be done soon ‘nough”

Good, he can go to you and not some random solider

“Loud an clear”

Scanning the surroundings for anyone, but only bodies littered the ground, a sigh of relief, Simon can go and make sure you’re alright and not alone with the enemy regardless of if their tied up or not

“s’all clear, nothin’ but bodies” Ghost grumbled into the coms device

“Aye, almost done ‘ere, go check on yer gaol*”

Simon rolled his eyes at John’s comment, not that anyone could see, the sentiment was still there

“Ye can tell me what that means later”

“Haha, not a chance, ye’ll try and kill me”

——— Back at Base Camp ———

Humming to no one in particular as it was only you and the unconscious combatant

“Hhhmm, I wonder what secrets you hold,” your pondering interrupted when your coms crackle

“Fangs, how copy”

It was Ghost, he must be almost done

“All clear, captive doesn’t have any on him that could compromise us or him,”

So that’s what you meant by ‘examination’

“Although he could stand to have visited the dentist more often”

“And why do you know that, ya know what jus tell me when I get there”

Giggling “alright, when will you get here”

“Soon”

That’s all you heard before the coms went silent, guess you’ll have to sit by your lonesome at base camp

‘Base camp’ wasn’t all that bad of a building, it was really just a safe house that Ghost, Soap, yourself and a handful of other soldiers would return too once all necessary targets were eliminated, and the information was secure, looking at your watch it had been almost an hour since the others should have infuriated the target building, they shouldn’t be gone for too much longer, if Ghost comes back alone you’ll have to ask where the others are

The soft crunching of boots on dried leaves let you know someone is approaching, keeping out of sight from whom ever walks through the door, be it Ghost or any of the other boys or another enemy looking for their missing comrade, having decided to not take any chances

One hand the standard issue pistol, the other ready to call for back up, bracing for whoever’s on the other side, friend or foe, the door cracks open at first as if the one opening it is worried about an ambush, opening it the rest of the way having not seen you on the initial opening Ghost calls out

“FANGS! Where are you?!” Worry lacing his voice, he hadn’t seen you on his first scan of the room before him, worried someone might have come for their comrade and for you

Stepping out of the door way you hid in “no need to shout, ‘m right here”

The sight of you unharmed has Ghost relaxing a bit “good, where’s the guy you subdued?”

“Also what about that comment ‘bout ‘im needing to see a dentist?”

“Oh, that,” motioning for Simon to follow “well, some context, before I became a medic I had, well I still have, quite the interest in execution and torture techniques”

“I don’t even need to see your face to know it says ‘what in the actual hell’ I’ve gotten that reaction before”

Shocked would be one way to explain how Simon felt, gob smacked even, you, the tiny(compared to him most everyone is tiny) kind and harmless person has such a morbid curiosity, one would expect something like that of Ghost himself, but you, it was almost impossible to imagine, something like plants and which ones could be used medicinally maybe, but execution and torture

Pulling Ghost from his thoughts you spoke, “well here he is, but one of the ‘execution’ techniques was a pill of cyanide in a false tooth, so when you get captured to avoid torture you’d break the pill and die”

“Now I know it’s not very common but, I feel the need to check anyway, because the one time I don’t check they’ll have it and boom, we’ve lost a source of intel”

Ghost has to admit though, your thoroughness could prove useful in the future, but now he was just glad you were safe

Wordlessly he checks the bindings on the captive, ensuring their strong enough to hold, he’d have to contact Price when the others go back, then he’s being pulled to the side by his shoulder

“You hurt? This can go the easy way where you just tell me or I strip your gear off and look myself”

Silence, frustrating silence, Simon couldn’t breathe or think let alone reply to your question, the seconds felt like an eternity, the thought of you pulling his tactical gear off and looking over his body with such care, Simon feels as if he could combust when he’s pulled out of his thoughts by your annoyed huff

“Looks like it’ll be the hard way” but before you can start removing Simons gear his hands grab your wrists preventing you from doing anything more

“‘M fine, wasn’t hurt”

“Haaa, ye didn’t say so because…” hoping he’d answer

“Was making sure you weren’t hurt, can’t have our only medic hurt now can we”

If you rolled your eyes any harder they’d roll right outta your skull

[tooosterduos]

I knew there was something about you.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!ex-vigilante!reader

Warnings: ANGST!!!, swearing, reader is sorta bitch?, not a happy ending! Not proofread

A/n: the people voted so here’s the Jason fic! Unfortunately I don’t know how to write gutting wrenching angst but enjoy!

Rain tapped against the picture window of Jason and your shared apartment. It was 3:30 am and you had been up all night waiting for him to come home from “patrol”

“Patrol my ass.” You muttered as the clock struck 3:30. The door creeped open at 3:35, making your heart jump as you were quite invested in the book you were reading.

“You’re home late.” You spoke softly, trying not to anger the man in front of you. The two of you had been going through a rough patch the past few months, you thought it would rollover..but when it hit 6 months, you started preparing for the worst.

“Yeah patrol took longer than I expected.” He deadpanned, removing his jacket from his broad shoulders, hanging it onto the standing coat hanger, next to your front door.

“Mhm.” You hummed, “what’s that supposed to mean?” He growled lowly. “Well I’ll tell you what it means. You reek of alcohol, your uniform is no where to be seen, and your hair has obviously been combed. You could’ve told me you were going to the bar.” You replied keep your tone steady, not wanting to give into his antics that were to come.

“Stop doing that.” He snarled at you again, “doing what?” You asked innocently. You knew exactly what he meant, you were reading his mind..quite literally.

“Stop using my mind against me!” He snapped, finally sick of your “bullshit” as he would call it. “I have no privacy with you!” He continued, “Oh baby, privacy left the room a while ago. Privacy left when you asked me to marry you. Privacy left when we started sleeping in the same bed. Privacy is nonexistent in this house.” You growled back.

Now you both were just making each other angrier. “Then maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to marry me if you’re just gonna act like this.” He snapped at you again.

Your chest ached, how could he say something like that? At the end of the day, no matter how much the two of you argued, you still loved him. If he was gonna go low, you were going lower.

“Was she at least pretty?” You question, “what?” He asked quietly. “I said, was she at least pretty.” you said repeating yourself, “what are you talking about?” he rolled his eyes with that sentence.

“Jason..I’m not stupid.” you retorted. “Don’t act like that. As if you haven’t cheated on me!” He yelled, “I haven’t! Why would you even say that!” you asked, your voice small and laced with hurt.

Jason knew how to piss you off, and he was doing everything in his power not to scream at you. You knew deep down that it was the alcohol in his system that was making him act like this. You knew deep down he would never treat you like this, no matter how mad he was at you.

Something more significant was making him act like this. However no matter how hard you searched, you couldn’t find what it was. 

You snapped back into reality, staring at him, hurt. Tears brimming your eyes. It took everything in you to not run from your current situation.

Jason’s eyes softened as he stared at you, realizing the damage he’d done. He crept towards your quivering body. “No.” You stated as you watched him creep closer towards you.

“Listen..I’m sorry.” He stated softly, reaching out his arms toward you. You were quick to move away from his grasp. “I’m sorry doesn’t cut it Jason. I’ve had enough of this! Constant arguing! Over stupid things!” You yelled, struggling to get the words out as tears ran down your face.

“I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot on my mind, I know I should’ve told you. I know I should’ve been more open instead of being an asshole and taking my anger out on you.” he spoke gently again, you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

Your heart and body however, couldn’t forgive him. Not tonight at least. “I’m sorry but I can’t forgive you, not tonight at least.” You said as you wiped a tear from your face, walking towards your bedroom.

Jason didn’t dare to follow, you came back out a few minutes later with a pillow, blanket, and a pair of clean clothes for in the morning.



[caligulawritesfanfiction]

ꨄ Heather

pairing ; roderick heffley x f!reader

summary ; roderick finally gets flat out rejected by heather hills after spending his entire summer trying to impress her. despite y/n’s best efforts to console him, he’s not having it. (fluff + angst? reader and roderick are awkward teenagers ofc)

a/n ; sorta my first fanfic? not really a full fic, more like some thoughts of mine. hope y’all like it tho, 😜 lmk if you want a part two because im totally down to write smut idgaf 😍

warnings ; cursing, angst?, arguing, kissing 😚

ꨄ

you and roderick were close friends

roderick developed a big crush on heather hills right before school let out for summer

he would constantly go out of the way to impress heather, each time failing and embarrassing himself, “roddy, it’s okay, heather just hard to impress, you know?… i was impressed, by the way” you would smile and try to laugh it all off with him, trying your best to make him feel better

when roderick finally got flat out rejected by heather, it caused an argument between you two.

“you know what, y/n? this is all your fault! you- you got between me and heather, you’re the reason she didn’t like me!”

you two are standing in his room, after a particularly embarrassing incident at the pool.

“roderick, what the fuck are you saying? i didn’t do anything to make heather not like you! it has nothing to do with me!”

“it has everything to do you with you!”

“how?! please, enlighten me because all i’ve done this entire summer was console you each time heather shut you down! each time you embarrassed yourself right in front of her!”

“i- i, uh…”

“that’s what i fucking thought. stop blaming stupid shit like this on me, rodrick, i’m tired of it. i’ve been here for you through all this dumbass heather hills bullshit. have you ever stopped to think how i felt? huh? rodrick, why do you think i approached you that one day in middle school? it wasn’t because you were nice, definitely not. it was because for some reason, i liked you, i liked you a lot. to this day i like you! i’ve stayed your friend even after you do shit like this to me, because i have a giant stupid fat crush on you, you asshole! ugh! fuck you!”

at that point, you were emotional. a tear or two escaping. you walk away, or at least attempt to walk away. roderick grabs your arm, “let go of me, you prick!” you try to yank it away, but he pulls you back.

“y/n, can you stop? stop trying to walk away from me?” “no! i’m done with you!” “y/n, i didn’t even get say anything about-“ “yeah? well, i don’t want you to!”

he continues to pull you toward him, as you try to pull away. you yell profanities at him as he tries to talk to you. “y/n, why didn’t you tell me? if i’d known, i wouldn’t have done any of this stuff to try and get with heather! i wasn’t a dick to you in 7th grade because i had a crush on you too! and- and i, uh, i still do, okay?”

you scoff and shake your head, stopping your attempts to yank yourself away and out the door.

“i’m being serious!”

“no, you aren’t.”

“i am”

“no, you aren’t. you’re just saying this because you’re hurt about heather, and now need a backup plan to get a girl.”

“y/n, no, i’m being dead serious, it’s not like that.” he walks toward you. maybe, he is being serious. you can tell when he’s lying, you’ve seen him lie to his mom millions of times. your eyebrows furrow, looking all over his face, just to make sure he’s not lying straight to your face.

he sighs, “please, believe me.”

he said please. he never uses the word please, only when he’s really trying to be sincere.

you bite your lip. what are you even supposed to do, right now? you want to kiss him, but you’ve had that urge so many times, and each time you’ve ignored it.

despite your nerves almost eating you alive right now, you quickly move to reach your free arm up, grabbing his shoulder and pushing your lips to his.

he drops your arm from his grasp. his lips don’t move against yours, and even though your eyes are tightly shut, you feel his burning into you.

oh. you remember he’s never kissed anyone. you pull away immediately. when you open your eyes, his are wide and staring right at you. you think he realizes why you pulled away. he attempts to play it cool, per usual.

“um, yeah, that was cool.” he avoids eye contact. scratching his neck, and nodding his head. his face heats up and he turns his head away, occasionally darting his eyes to look at you. “totally cool…”

you sigh, watching his movements. was that the wrong thing to do?

“i, um, im sorry, that was sudden…”

rodrick realizes you might regret it, what if you never want to kiss him again? what then? he’s really going to look like an asshole.

“what? no! no, it was cool, really! um, maybe, we can do it again? sometime? i guess…” he forces out a casual laugh at the end, even though he’s slightly panicking on the inside, fearing he looks like a total loser (past his “cool punk rock” persona he has going on, we all know kind of is LOL).

you raise your eyebrows, trying to mimic this whole ‘if you’re cool, i’m cool’ thing roderick is doing. “yeah, well…i’m free, right now…if you wanna…” you smile mischievously at him, gauging his reaction closely.

he nods frantically, and you laugh at his wide eyed expression. you quickly close the gap between you two, grabbing the sides of his face with both hands and kissing him urgently. his hands find your waist and snake around to hold you close. he kisses you back with a same urgent neediness.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Karam, plus a cut for more; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good!

The walk over to the diner is quiet, mostly. Billy tells Lynn where some things are in Fawcett and points some stuff out in the neighborhood, but Lynn doesn’t really say much back. He nods along, though, and Billy's pretty sure he's listening. 

Maybe sure, at least. 

Worst case scenario, he figures he'll just repeat himself later. If Lynn's a little too stressed or overwhelmed to really be listening right now, well, he definitely wouldn't blame him. He's a baby, basically! Everything's gotta be so new and weird and overwhelming for him right now.

Billy isn’t gonna push. Not on day one, when they don’t even know each other yet. Lynn can take his time all he wants right now. It’s not like he’s hurting anyone, or even himself. So Billy just has to be patient with him while he learns stuff, same as any little kid he’s met in the system or on the streets. 

They get to the diner and Lynn hangs back a little bit. Billy suspects Cadmus did really not prepare him for restaurant etiquette and stuff like that, considering. He’s pretty positive it didn’t, in fact. Billy doesn’t go to many restaurants himself, but . . . 

It’s fine, he figures. He just needs to be a good example for Lynn, that’s all. And that’s what he always needs to do right now, so it’s no big deal. 

He hopes he’s being a good example, anyway. He really wants Lynn to be able to trust that he is one, so he can know he has someone to learn from, so . . . yeah. 

Billy goes to the counter, politely gives their fake last name–Batman would not appreciate them half-assing the new secret identities–and tips the waitress twenty percent and thanks her. It’s kind of a lot of food, but they have super-strength and a fridge for leftovers, so he figures it’ll be fine. 

He does feel a little nauseous over how much money he just spent, though. 

Batman gave them way more money than that, Billy reminds himself as he gathers up the bags. And there’ll be more next week. And if they actually somehow run out or just have an emergency, he can just fill out the League paperwork to requisition funds to make up for it. They could spend way more than this and still be fine. 

He’s pretty sure takeout is still gonna be a special occasions only thing, though. And couponing. Couponing is definitely gonna be a thing. 

It’s just a lot of money. 

Billy gets all of the bags juggled into his arms. Lynn looks awkward again and shifts Tawky under his other arm. 

“I can carry it,” he says stiffly. 

“Well, if you wanna,” Billy says. “We could split it?” 

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, still stiff. Billy smiles at him and offers him a couple of the bags. Lynn frowns, but takes them. Billy figures it makes sense Lynn wants to help; that’s pretty normal with little kids. Like, they always wanna do what the older kids are doing, or the adults, or just whoever. So it makes sense Lynn would too, especially if Cadmus didn’t teach him this stuff to begin with. He’s learning, basically. So yeah, it’s normal. 

And also a good sign, Billy hopes, if Lynn trusts he knows what he’s doing enough to copy him. It’s even sorta cute, actually. 

. . . okay, it’s really cute, but Lynn’s kinda a teenager so he might not appreciate hearing that. 

Still cute, though. 

They walk back to the apartment–back home, which is a weird thought, Billy recognizes fleetingly but tries not to focus on right now–and Billy unpacks all the food onto the coffee table in the living room. He figures that’ll be lower-pressure than the kitchen table for their first meal together, and they can put a show or a movie on if Lynn doesn’t want to talk too much or anything. 

Lynn sets Tawky on the end of the table, looking a little awkward about it. Billy smiles encouragingly at him. Tawky doesn’t really need to eat either in his stuffed animal form, but it’s nice that Lynn’s including him at lunch. And food does still taste good, obviously. 

“What do you wanna try first?” he asks, nudging the open box of onion rings over towards Tawky. He knows he likes them. Lynn frowns, looking a little wary. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he says stiffly. “Just . . . whatever.” 

“Okay,” Billy says, figuring that means he’s a little overwhelmed by the options. They did order a lot, so . . . yeah, that makes sense. “How about the soup, then?” 

“. . . sure,” Lynn mutters, and warily pulls the takeout bowl over to himself and takes the lid off. Billy offers him a spoon. Lynn frowns, but takes it. “. . . thanks.” 

“You’re welcome,” Billy says cheerfully. Setting a good example, and all.

[luviisabella]

Slight SH mention

Hiya, I wanted to see if I could request a fem reader with sanemi. Reader has a sister with scars all over her arms and thighs who kinda acts like sanemi, and reader tells sanemi that his personality and scars don't bother her because she's used to it. Sorta "you're beauty never really scared me" vibes. If you don't want to no worries, please and thank you.

ahh no worries sweetheart, I’d love to write something like this, especially since it’s Sanemi & it’s such a creative idea !! xoxo - author 🦇🩷

Summary: fem’reader is with Sanemi and sometimes she catches him apologizing for his demeanor but reader reassures him it’s alright because she knows what it’s like seeing as she has an older sibling who acts just the same.

Notes: SELF-HARM WARNING ⚠️ & sfw (safe for work)

You were currently at the butterfly estate, taking some space in one of Shinobu’s rooms you decided to work on a map of different areas to patrol around nearby villages. The door was open just wide enough for you to see the blue grayish clouds that filled the sky and soft rain fill into the garden. It was peaceful and you were humming a little tune to yourself while you worked away and of course with a little help.

You were sitting on your knees atop a cushion and right below you was your sleepyheaded boyfriend Sanemi. His head was resting on your lap and he, from what it appeared, was asleep. You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, seeing how at peace he looked you smiled and gently ran your fingers through his hair. “Need something?” he asks, from his voice he didn’t sound like he was sleeping, just keeping his eyes closed and resting a bit. “Mnm, just admiring.” Despite his eyes still being closed he could hear the slight smile behind your words. Something hit him, like it tugged on a heart string.. somewhere in the back of his mind he feels like he doesn’t deserve you. You’re such a sweetheart, loved by many and your aura shines in a way that even butterflies are drawn to it. It makes him think if he’s really deserving to be your partner. Why put up with him? How could you handle him? And at that how could you love a man who looks like him? His body full of scars, from his nose down to his legs, and to him it never mattered at first but what if it does to you?

“Nemi’, what’s wrong?” He was so lost in thought he didn’t realize you had been talking to him the whole time. He opened his eyes and was ready to speak until he saw the small frown on your face, he felt even worse now, it feels like he’s doomed to just bring you down or hurt you. “I’m sorry. I never realized how much I dragged you down in our relationship.” He wasn’t looking at you anymore, how could he look you in the eyes? “Sanemi where is this coming from-“ “I feel like I’m not good enough for you.” “For me??” “Yes. I love you for you and because of that I never thought that there could be a possibility you don’t feel the same way. As a Hashira I feel like I know myself and I’m secure in me but as your boyfriend, I wonder what you think of me.” “Sanemi-“ “I know I don’t always say it but you’re perfect y/n. Your aura, your personality, and even just you in general. You’re gorgeous and there’s no way you don’t know that but then I think about how I look standing next to you. These scars.. you don’t think I look weird with them? Maybe even ugly.. I’m not one to doubt my looks but sometimes when I look at you I just ask myself, what made you pick me?”

It was quiet for a moment, he didn’t look at you until he realized the silence and your face made his heart sink. You weren’t crying but you looked so devastated. Shit. Did he make it worse?

“Im sorry I didn’t-“ “I haven’t told anyone else, especially because she’s not happy seeing where I am now, but I have an older sister who is exactly like you.” Sanemi’s eyes widened a little bit in surprise, you have a sister?? “She was a Hashira and retired, but like you she had Marechi blood so she would also cut herself in battles. She would come home with new scars in new places and I couldn’t help but want to take care of her. Instead she would push me aside and use them as a reminder to not go out at night or fight those ‘things’ (demons).” You looked up a bit, now no longer looking at Sanemi as you began to reminisce about those days. “Every morning it was the same routine, scars, pushed aside, and reminded. At first it hurt because I felt so useless but then I realized she was just scared. She didn’t want me to end up like her so she tried to scare me into staying away from the path she took. It didn’t work seeing as I’m a Hashira today. Her and I still haven’t spoken since I announced it to her.” You looked down at Sanemi and noticed he had a small frown on his face. “I love you because I know your heart is pure, but out of fear for others you push them because you don’t want to lose them. Just like my sister. I’ve never found your scars ugly because I know that the cause behind them comes from you caring, protecting people, and just like my sister I accepted them. Not once have I thought they where ugly.” You began running your fingers through his hair again and smiled. “Sanemi, I fell in love with you because your heart showed me who you really are. I know how to love you because I loved someone who was just like you and that will never change. I haven’t stopped loving my sister and I won’t stop loving you. Your scars and your personality are just a bonus for me and I’ll remind you every day by kissing each and every one. So, Mr. Shinazugawa, does that answer your question?”

Sanemi closed his eyes again. His heart was pounding in his chest, he’s never felt so loved and heard until he met you. Somehow you reached a part of him he didn’t even know existed. You kept pulling on his heart strings and he didn’t know how much of it he could take.

“Yes” he calmly said and you smiled in response, going back to humming the song from before and working on the map.

I wonder how long he should wait before finally being able to show you the gift he got you…so you could finally be Mrs. Shinazugawa.

(I know it took a bit ! Sorry luv, I kept editing it but I hope you like it<3)