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louebel · 7 months

Note

Hi! Can I request fluff Law x fem!reader where reader is feels sick but tries to ignore it/do things on her own (she’s not used to ask for help) but as a doctor law easily can tell by the signs and it happens during their sea journey on the polar tang? Hope I’m not asking too much love ya 🥺

Feel free to add angst or anything else to your writing ^•^

this is super old and the only request i'll ever do (atm) since i had a wip— ANON SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER <\3 reader is gn since i used the second person and no description.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 6,124 wc. a bit angsty, ends with fluff, emotional reader for the sickness, law is bad at emotions. this turned longer than expected, i hope it's decent xdd hit me up if there's any mistakes lol. supposed to be called windows of the soul,, divider by @ benkeibear my lord and saviour. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: sickness overtook your body and worsened your already pitiful situation. law has been ignoring you and you have no idea why... but with how you felt, there was no way you could confront him at the moment.

scrub, scrub, scrub...

"... phew ..."

scrub... poof!

"Oh! — damnit — aargh..."

Cleaning today has been a nightmare. Never been so tedious.

Like, it was already uninteresting compared to all the other things you could do, but today it was ten times worse. You could bear it, seeking to make dusting shelves fun by humming some random tune to yourself. It was okay, something you had to do every once in a while. You could do it.

If only you weren't sick.

"Achoo! Achoo! — urgh... Achooo..! Damn."

You began feeling like this some days ago, or so you told yourself as you delicately hunched down to the floor, hoping to grasp the yellow sponge soaked in foam and water without experiencing excruciating pain. However, your hopes soon shattered as your back screamed in agony and your legs trembled with soreness, almost giving up on you.

Just the flu, you insisted, it would go away. A couple of sneezes mean nothing. You would feel better and all would go back to the ordinary.

... Oh, how wrong you were! And how stupid for not getting a day off.

You were capable, though! You counted on your immune system (it sounded heroic the first time you thought of that). One night is all you needed.

Or not.

"Ow, ow..."

You should've told your captain. Sure, it would cost your courage, pride, and dignity, but at least you'd be cured. You'd rather die than tell him you got sick because of the one herb he instructed everybody to avoid.

What's worse is that he's been rather distant, and he's unquestionably avoiding you. The way he shoots daggers — no, whole machetes in your direction every time you do anything, smart or not, is so clear even the crew can see it. And the worst part? You do not know why.

It had been like this for a while now, and you detested this whole plight with passion. Everything was okay between the two of you, you were sure of it! What did you do that spurred such a reaction? From one so dear to you?

Those sweet memories...

From new findings you excitedly presented him, to revealing himself, his past and adventures to you after almost a year of sailing. You knew everything about him. He knew everything about you.

So why? Why stop so abruptly? You didn't mind when he digressed about his newfound coins. When he murmured under his breath while he pored over medical books or mulled about a particular topic. When he stressed over labor and called for a brief break, where you or the crew would attend to him by delivering him a meal or helping when he wasn’t looking. He's so stubborn.

"Uurgh..."

From captain, to Law, to captain again. Not to mention how he deftly stopped you from hanging out with him. You thought he needed space at first. Maybe he was tired and had to rest for the next few days. That’s alright. However, your thoughts deteriorated as the days passed. But well, right now it's better if he doesn't see you at all. Nor the crew‌ — oh, the damn crew. Those two.

The "two" being the pair of nitwits that constantly stand by law's side and grin at you. Seriously...

You do not understand what Penguin and Shachi find so amusing about your situation with him. It's a tragedy, not a comedy. You love them both, truly, the minute you stepped into the polar tang they were the first ones to get you to open up and all, but goodness, you wish you could beat them for sitting there, cackling and clapping their hands while confiding some mysterious comments to each other when la — the captain, showed up in the area and walked past you with an unreadable gaze. He'd constantly salute you and the others with a bow of his head or more, depending on his mood.

Now? If he saw one inch of your form?

Sigh. His face always went red.

Why can't those two just tell you? Even Ikkaku seemed to know something you didn't. She was more subtle about it, though. Jean Bart wasn't slick either. You could see him smile from a mile away. Hakugan and Clione? Shachi and Penguin 2.0, except they hid behind Jean Bart. The rest pitied you instead, sometimes patting your back — sometimes shaking their head almost in disbelief. Oh, and Bepo gave you suspicious smiles! Every time he tried to say something to you, those two animal hat-wearing goblins silenced him. Did they just want you to suffer?

And if they did want that then their curses were working because even after grabbing the sponge (almost losing your temper as it slipped through your gloved palm twice) and straightening back to an erect pose, your head was still banging with fervor, muscles barely reacting.

If only you could snuggle with the fluffy, warm mink right now. A bitter sigh rushed past your lips at the thought.

Those two were just so mean. But Law was much meaner — the captain, the captain... Yes, the captain. That... That dummy.

You groaned and shook your head while forcing your wobbly arms to scrub the table, exhausted mentally with this never-ending train of thoughts and these fanciful fists leaving invisible bruises all over your poor body. Not to point out those hands pinching your brain like dough...

Just — you... Goodness, what was it he suddenly despised so much? The submarine felt like home. It was home, especially when he joined you. Now when he does, he — the aura he emanates is intimidating, yet everyone is either unaware of it or not affected by it.

What made him so resentful? You can barely say anything when he strides into the place, too panicked to learn how he would perceive you or talk to you if you go on. It's like you're back on step one, isolated, too scared to be yourself with your family. Because of one man who's supposed to be the head of it.

Being you felt like a sin when close to him, as if he preferred the private variant of who you are, and shunned your curious and spirited self. You could understand since he’s rather closed off and well, in a certain aspect you are too, but — did he not like you at all? Was it all an act to not offend you? He didn't seem to dislike your vivid reactions initially, or your foolish gestures when nearing a fresh island. You were often silent, smiling and listening to others converse, but when around your companions, you easily liked to open up since it was the only time you could do so. And they were more than just that. You entrusted all the members of the heart pirates. They meant everything to you. Even him, who stopped including you.

Ugh...

You wished it could all go back to normal.

This disease enjoyed fumbling with your previously scrambled sentiments. Law did mention it brought a high fever and emotional susceptibility. You didn't consider it'd be this severe.

"... Okay, I'm done."

You certainly weren't, with your bed unmade and furniture still dusty; floor imploring for a good wash. However, with the croaky voice you had paired with your runny nose, you doubted you could do more. Even if you did, it'd be better not to.

You peered down at the bucket full of water that probably smelled better than you at the moment, ignoring the small puddle beside it made by your poor handling sponges skills. Grimacing, you decided to leave it where it was in case carrying it back turns out to be a challenge. Hopefully, Ikkaku can provide you help later.

Looking around, your droopy eyelids dimmed your perspective and further provoked you as both exasperation and exhaustion mixed and boiled in your gut, room so messy it mirrored your current state. You didn't know what was irritating you more: the light of the lamp or the disarray you resided in.

Howling dejectedly, you turned and plodded to your bed, opening your arms, ready to throw yourself on the mattress. The more you sleep, the sooner you'll get better. Yeah, you're so brilliant. You closed your eyes and —

knock knock.

— reopened them a second after, remaining immobile for an extra few before glowering at your door, contemplating whether to go open it or linger to determine if they'd leave. Hmm.

You waited.

... knock knock.

Fantastic.

You gritted your teeth, drawing a profound breath to settle your nerves, haywire thanks to the hellish illness. They didn’t deserve to withstand your rage, but who knows, maybe by seeing your shape, they'll show sympathy and tell you. That could work.

Okay.

You sluggishly trudged to the door, not bothering to adjust your unbuttoned pajamas and faking a cheerful facade. You hoped your face didn't look too awful, but you couldn't care less right now.

Gripping and twisting the knob, you pushed it open, greeting them with the feeblest voice you've ever had, your sore nose making it unthinkable to inhale air. You rubbed the back of your head while doing so, eyelids closed to evade any light.

"Yo, Penguin, Shachi, how can I—" the words automatically came out of your coarse and blazing throat, opening your eyes a bit to look at... them...

Then you saw a tattoo. And more tattoos. No white, poofy boiler suits in sight.

By barely seeing light before, you tried giving yourself mercy, but now you were only slaughtering yourself to make sure the person in front of you was, well. Him.

Your jaw fell while your brows lifted in consternation, but shortly returned down thanks to your declining headache. Your pupils then scaled the mountain of mass before you and arrived at the peak. Another pair of eyes.

Cool, gray eyes. The ones that just a week ago welcomed you with compassion and comfort. Now they drive you to wither away from this world. Even if you look up to them. (Hehe, get it? man, you're so silly, wow.)

"—help … Captain. Uh, hello." and there goes your comfort zone.

You tried swallowing down air but got pounds of mucus down your stomach instead, curved posture closing up even more in his presence, ashamed to be seen in such a weak state, instantly regretting not managing your appearance as his gaze scrutinized you from top to bottom, probably displeased with how you presented yourself..

You looked everywhere but at him. He only looked at you.

Envy spurted from the plant’s toxins. How could he focus on one thing and have so much confidence to stare at someone without breaking eye contact at all? If you do the same for longer than two seconds, it feels like whoever looked at you has seen your entire personality, life, darkest secrets that you didn't really have, closest people to you — everything in poor words. The windows of your soul, perpetually agape.

How does he keep them closed? Why can't you seal them at all? Why?—

"—so care to explain the meaning of this?"

"Huh?"

You stupidly stared at him, blinking and glancing at his shoulders, then back at him to break whatever spell he put on you, not able to concentrate at all.

Barely could you see the annoyed expression on his face. You hoped he wasn't dealing with excessive stress. Making him feel worse was not your intention.

"I said, care to explain what this is? You look... terrible—" you cringed at that, "—and you haven't come out of your room since this morning. Do you have any idea what time it is?" His scrutinizing tone made you want to crawl under your blankets and stay there forever, but his patronizing gaze didn't let you.

You could merely fidget with your fingers and glance back at the floor to relieve your worries, which mixed with pain, fatigue, and dirtiness. You called for sleep so badly.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Captain. I, uh, I didn't—" sniff, "—mean to skip my duties. Sorry."

His brow creased in suspicion at your raspy voice and poor shape.

"Is that so? Look at me while you say it." if his words weren't menacing enough, his tone was too. He knew you couldn't do that. Especially now.

"Uh..." you unconvincingly whispered, continuing to play with your fists, until rubbing your nape once more, shuddering at how chilled your hands were compared to it.

Your actions were, again, spotted by him, and if one more thing occurred, then he'll be correct.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"..."

Sighing exasperated, you raised your head to look into his pupils once again.

Unbeknownst to you, he already confirmed another of his impressions while taking a further view of your sullen visage.

"I, uhm, overslept, Captain. That — that happens sometimes, yeah? Sorry about that. I'll—I'll..." stopping for a moment, you squinted your eyes and scrunched your nose while the man before you attentively fixated his stare on your frame and—

"Achooo!" —covered half of your face whilst he recoiled back at the loud sneeze you let out, not expecting it at all. He blinked, then you sneezed again, and again. Streak of three.

If your voice and glossy eyes already told everything to the doctor, the continuous sneezes only reinforced his thesis.

You exhaled haplessly as he sternly said your name.

"You're sick." his firm and coherent words could not be fooled. Your fate was sealed.

"...Yeah." at this point, you didn't care. He was gonna scold you, nothing you could do about it. You could only hope he'll do that after you're cured because right now, you could barely stand still without shivering. You were sure if he wanted to do something he would have already, so he definitely will have a talk with you after you're healthy.

"Why?" you've been proven wrong so many times this morning — afternoon. Evening? That you don't know what's gonna happen next.

You stared at him numbly, almost done with everything.

"What do you mean 'why'? I don't, I don't know. Probably our... Ugh, our last stop, isn't that obvious—"

"Not that. Why didn't you say anything? To the others? To me?"

If it wasn't for your head beating incessantly and the aching of your tendons ruining everything, you would think this was a dream.

You kept gawking at him like a goldfish. His timbre wasn't as stern as it regularly was. It was a bit, just a tad bit lower. Like, barely. His eyes were softer, and if you met the man yesterday, you wouldn't be capable of identifying his mood. It's because you knew him for so long that you could distinguish it.

"I..." you mumbled talks under your breath, awfully feeble to maintain the discussion, barring your eyes and hitching away when Law planted his freezing hand on your forehead. You fussed in protest, although it didn't last long.

"You're cold... Off."

"My hands are perfectly fine. You're burning," he interrupted you, stating the obvious. But you were far too deep to listen, fatigued.

"Yeah... M'sorry." you nodded while deliberately looking down in shame, almost dropping to the ground out of fatigue. Everything seems hazy, the pressure in your skull fading, while the breaths you took were meager.

Something skimmed over your shoulder and nape — ah, his fingertips — palm carefully tilting your head back up. Your mouth hung open, and you attempted to focus on your captain's facial features and the iconic hat to not fall asleep.

"It's fine." But his gentle approach and mellow maneuvers set you in a soothing trance, where you couldn't do anything other than auscultate him.

It’d be an exceptional moment to speak up about these last days, his odd actions.

"It... It is? You, ah... You're not..." but you struggled to do so, chest too heavy to speak. He narrowed his eyes, striving to make out what you were saying, but it was all incomprehensible to him.

"I'm not?" he urged you to proceed, getting closer — he felt warm. Wasn't he cold some seconds ago? Ah, he’s draping his coat over your shoulders, so, so cozy, — and holding you as if you were glass. Why was he holding you? It felt nice, undoubtedly nice. Oh, you were going to fall, you think.

“Hey—hey. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.”

Cradling you in his arms, Law cursed and crouched down, snaking an arm under your knees and sweeping you up, a short "there" slipping from his tongue, keeping you close to his breast. Naturally, you snuggled close to the source of heat, losing consciousness, unaware of your surroundings, his distress, and jogging to the infirmary.

“Hey. Keep your eyes open. No, no, open—yes, yes, like that. Good job. A bit more, then you can go to sleep, alright?"

While nodding lazily when he said your name again, you curled up for more warmth, and he mellowly followed your movement, hefting you up and pressing his lips upon your forehead, his frown deepening at how high the temperature was. He needed to administer medicine quickly.

"Law …'m sorry if I smell."

He scoffed. Thinking of such idiotic things was exactly like you, sputtering them out so bluntly. Rolling his eyes was natural at this point.

"That's my last concern. We'll think of your scent and hygiene later. Don't speak. Shh."

So stupid, so stupid. He should've confronted you ever since you left the island. He should've. It's been a recurring pattern these days. He couldn't see you because of his work but spoke with the others at breakfast, lunch, dinner... They all grew concerned about your distance. Uni shared that it began right after the departing... He knew something wasn't right with you, he could feel it.

Back in that inhabited location, he quickly took note of your drooping posture and fatigued breathing. He wanted to ask about it, but the following days, you acted normal, and Law thought you were queasy because of the heat.

Then he got busy checking on the crew's documents, medicine supply, the damn broken scope Hakugan sadly reported, bounties, news — and something else. He managed to give a check-up to everyone but you. It was mandatory after leaving an island.

With you evading him and him doing the same, this happened. Great. He could only hope it wasn't contagious.

... Wait.

He gritted his teeth in sour realization — Not once has he seen you in the halls or dining hall. No one mentioned you, either. Have you eaten anything at all? Oh, you imbecile.

He palmed your skin through your suit, easing your laments and whimpers, walking through the hallways of the Polar Tang and reaching the infirmary. Kicking the door open while lulling you a bit, shushing and fluttering his eyelids at your sick and quaking form.

"There we go. Shh, I know, I know, it's awful."

Uplifting the blankets, he quickly covered you and began searching for his equipment, rustling and metal clicks tangling with your whines.

"U- uuh... W- where..?"

"I'll be there in a second. I'm here."

As he said that, he quickly came back to you, already stirring medicine in a cup. He had to give to you before you blacked out or fell asleep. Sliding a hand under your back, he carefully pushed you up, gaining a groan from you; you sounded so tired. Tipping your head forward, he brought the rim of the cup to your lips. You were delirious, could barely see or feel, but managed to follow his direct instruction to "open". The first glass was tasteless, fresh... water.

The second tasted awful.

"E—eugh..."

"A couple more sips and we're done. Come on, you're doing good."

Once you drank it all, with a small praise from Law, he gently laid you back down, about to check your vitals. He knew you were in no condition to do as he instructed, it would be all him. Idiot, idiot...

Just looking at you made him guilty. He never saw you this awful. However, what truly pushed him were your next phrases.

“Do you feel better now..?”

Low and dry, they all were. He halted his movements, his hands in the bag, shifting his attention to you.

Your question puzzled him.

Feel better? Him? He was fine. Perhaps you thought the disease was contagious? No; you would've phrased that diversely. His forehead creased, slightly tilted to the side.

"What?"

“I … I missed you."

And as clear drops cascaded down your cheeks, his limbs froze, a bittersweet ache striking his chest.

"I—I thought I did something wrong … I’m sorry … Should've told you. 'M sorry ... really...”

Shit.

“No, no, don’t be. It’s alright, don't—don't speak. You did nothing. Shh...”

And if you stayed conscious for some more seconds, you could've seen those severe pupils mitigate. The windows of his soul open up; the "stern" gaze he preserved for you withering in an instant at your vulnerability.

All he wanted to do was clear that up. When, now..?

“I—I’m the one that should’ve apologized, damn it…”

"Aargh..."

Warm.

"Mmh..."

It was very warm. Pleasant.

"Hn..."

The boilersuit felt different. Heavier, and not … poofy. Hm.

The pillow was so nice, though...

You sought a better position under the comforting and amiable regime of your blanket, squinting your glistening eyes as if sand had struck them; eyebrows knitting in distaste and discomfort, choler cramming up your insides — but not for long, extremely achy and sleepy to lament.

Shouldn't it be easier to relax now that you are tired? Shifting left and right left your muscles throbbing. The peace you could achieve in your dreams was all you begged for. But no, you just had to rise two more times in the span of minutes or hours.

When you woke up the third time, someone surprised you. He was perching on a chair near the infirmary's bed, head, presumably about to doze off. An encyclopedia of vegetation and exotic environs sat in his palms and dotted jeans, the cover made of green-coloured leather, firm to the touch.

He looked peaceful.

"... Law?"

Your lashes fluttered at the fierce shudder that rocked his frame, the textbook about to fall, his eyes snapping open and rapidly darting up to you.

"Oh. You woke up. Good. Good evening."

You were mad at him. You were mad at him.

His lips were indubitably moving. Whatever he was saying, you were not listening. Something about being out for hours, but you were too out of it to pay attention.

And looking down at your body, your eyeballs almost popped out of your sockets at the sight of... Not your boilersuit.

"I'm in my pajamas?"

"And — hm? Oh. I changed you." Pause. "With my devil fruit, of course. Obviously. You were way too hot in it."

"..."

Pause number two.

"I'm hot?" You bluntly said,

"Not in that way." And he quickly retorted, bashful. You immediately got gloomy.

"Oh..." You and Bepo were alike. He couldn’t help but sweatdrop.

"No, no, no, don't — you look fine. That's not what I meant."

A hoarse chuckle ripped from your sensible larynx, a noise that he hadn't heard in a while. His back loosened at your jovial note, the pressure applied on the envelope of the manual lessening.

There was a superb illustration of the flora you accidentally whiffed.

"You inhaled it, didn't you?"

... Silence followed. Then a sigh.

"A simple allergy with a sore throat and emotional instability in the first phase caused by the pollen, weakened muscles and headache in the second, and heightened senses, nausea, and worsening of the body in the last one. You felt them all."

Quick and precise, each symptom he mentioned appeared throughout the weeks you boarded on the Polar Tang. He hit the mark. Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you nodded sheepishly, feeling hot in your cheeks.

"Y—Yeah."

"I thought I mentioned dodging those peculiar red flowers. I don't expect you to recall the name, but to avoid it. Thankfully, you only inhaled its pollen, or else you would've been in this bed the moment we departed."

"O—oh... That bad?"

"No, not really. The symptoms would've developed quicker, but nothing dangerous. Perhaps you would have slept over two days, as all cases do when encountering this allergy," He narrows his eyes at you, shutting the book and crossing his long legs, his foot jouncing. "Not at all fatal, only worrying when the patient in question mentions nothing about the symptoms and overworks themselves.”

“Hey—”

“You're fine."

A small huff left your lips, nodding lazily. Nothing was uttered after from both sides. Occasional groans from yours. Only then he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"..." The answer was simple. He immediately found the illness yet couldn't pinpoint the cause of this? It was almost ironic. Your quietude wasn't taken well.

"Well?"

"... You ignored me. You made it clear."

And he was faking ignorance. That glance, his attitude. You knew him too well, but had no energy to call him out.

"I—I didn't."

"Don't play coy, Law. Did I do something? Even the others know. Penguin and Shachi told me. I—"

You paused when he raised his hand, glancing at it in confusion, then back at him, twice or more. He sighed and dropped it back on his thigh again, using his other one to rub his temple in distress.

"You did nothing. I don't know what... Shachi and Penguin said," You tilted your head at his peculiar manner of quoting them. "But I've got nothing against you."

He stopped rubbing and lifted his head to check on you again and you were unsure of what to say. His brows wrinkled the tender skin of his forehead, severity, and minor unease painting every fiber of his appearance.

You just... didn't know.

"Really? Then why those weird stares? Why leave the room the moment I come in? I mean." you flailed your hands around, looking everywhere as if you could find an explanation. "You never behaved this way, Law, not with anyone. I... It was fine before, right? Let me ask again, did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not!"

At his hasty exclamation, you blinked, uncertain why he became as rigid as stone. Palms back on the blanket, you awaited an elaboration of his thoughts, observing his adumbral face to detect any key to figure out what caused him to alter his ways with you. However, his hat, which you've always appreciated for its fluffiness, turned out to be an issue. Those eyes you've grown so fond of refused to meet yours.

You just couldn't get it. The surrounding air grew an intoxicating no romance book would mention, one that did the contrary of setting your heart aflame, that poor muscle of yours.

If he explained, it would've been easier.

"Okay, 'of course not' ... Sure—"

"We are not having this conversation. You need rest."

He briskly cut you off, and your heart felt constricted. The words felt bitter upon both of your tongues, so bitter and revolting, they made his jaw clench and your eyes water. You weren't having it. Absolutely not.

"I feel better now, thank you, and I say we're having this right here." You pushed, ignoring how he clenched his tattooed fist.

"No—"

"Yes, Law! I don't know what I did, but if it bothers you, shouldn’t you tell me? There are things we can all miss."

The pang in your brain was still active, and you had no patience nor strength to argue. Either he spoke up or you'd go straight to sleep.

"I... You did nothing that bothers me."

His speech was almost a whisper, a low rumble, and were you in your regular state, you'd feel sad to see him like this. Law had no trouble speaking up— perhaps with apologies, or admitting to be wrong when in the midst of a conversation. Maybe something genuinely bothered him. But he'd tell you, wouldn't he? He had to.

But you weren't the only one who had to consider the consequences. He also had to do his part.

"... And?" you encouraged him, to gain something, something that would lead you both to that damned thing you were both chasing, that ounce of understanding.

“And—and what?" alas, it served another wave of blistering dissatisfaction down upon the membranes of your boiling stomach.

He couldn't be serious.

"... Whatever. I'm going to sleep."

"What?"

You detested how you were feeling, a volcano of passions, the pounding in your skull, and the heat, and the ludicrous, nagging insecurity, all these wretched, gristly sensations shoved in your mouth and scraping your gullet, such a relucting and squalid dish, contaminating your palate and inflaming the gums of your teeth.

But all Law could see was how your eyes moistened and reddened, the crinkles at the corners of your mouth, the contracted tissues above your nose.

You couldn't feel how his heart plummeted, either. Again, he caused you to cry.

"Hey... I—"

"No, Law, no! I said leave! You ignored me for almost two weeks and now—now you're just..!"

Perhaps you were being a bit too "dramatic" for something you could solve with a modest exchange, something that, compared to all the obstacles you and Law went through, was a sheer grain of dust in your shoes. Yet you erupted for the frustration, the plant's effects and that nameless thing you'll bring in your grave, for if he knew, he'd probably pity you.

Maybe, just maybe, he should've kept ignoring you. If solely to dim that warmth. The glow in your eyes that only sparked with him.

"I don't mind if you need time. I don't mind if you're busy or whatever, that's obviously fine! But can't you tell me? Is it that hard? Instead of treating me like a stranger? Just—just, just leave..."

Your snotty voice seemed ridiculous, resounding through the infirmary alongside your sobs and sniffles. Vision tarnished by your tears, staring at the ceiling with resignation. It alarmed Law, whose emotions were already scattered; unnerved, anxious.

He couldn't take seeing you like this. He couldn't.

"That’s not it! I... I just — I..!" His broken explanations fell as your cries didn't stop; spasms traveling through your frazzled nerves. He swore under his breath, getting up and coming to you, standing close but so, so distant. His fingers jerked, impatient to wipe your tears, to calm you down, to assure you everything was alright, and this was all on him.

"What..?" you meekly whimpered, gazing at him as he appeared in your sight.

"I, I..!" if only he could express himself. You'd figure out. If only he could, without buckling and tearing apart at the weight of his own feelings.

"... You what, Law?"

It was tough to see with all those tears coating your scleras, but... His lips quivered. His jaw tensed.

His hands craved yours.

"I like—I like you!"

... You wondered if illusions were part of the symptoms. Your eyelids were all but relaxed. Popeyed.

"There. I said it. I mean it. Seriously. I—I think I love you."

You could feel his frantic grip, slightly pulling the blankets in his direction, tense as him. You've never seen Law so … jittery with you. Perhaps when he slowly spoke of his past, or when his plan failed.

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I... I was confused. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't... No, okay. I, I love you, but you don't have to reciprocate, really. ‌I just wanted to clarify that I wasn't—"

This was different, however. Not the same vulnerability, nor agitation. That teetering edge coating his sayings, not at all close to those instances.

"... Law."

"—ignoring you, I mean, I was, but I just couldn't face you, you know? I didn't know how to act—"

That glow, those feelings. The twinkle in his eyes Bepo mentioned when you spoke of something that fascinated you, that rare grin on his lips, and that sweetness, the swelling in his chest, and the red, and the breath of fresh air, and the intoxicating romance books loved to talk about...

Those tints blooming in his cheeks. The faint relaxation of his defined brows. How he covered his pretty, vulnerable self.

He's no different from you. Oh, oho ho, no, he wasn’t. Only now did you realize.

"Law."

"—but I missed you so much, I missed your presence, being with you, I—"

Your heartbeats matched.

"Law!"

You understand now. The definitive yell induced him to quit his blabbering, and eventually, he found your gaze. Those windows were not locked at all. Not marginally, not halfway. They were fully open. You could see him.

"It's... the same."

It was all you could utter. His jaw loosened, and you could recognize his wide, stormy irises.

"Huh? Wh — what?"

"I feel the same way, Law. I—I love you too."

Yours were open, too. They always were- yet he never acknowledged what dwelled inside. Two fools you both were.

"... Oh..." and a breathless whisper was all he could offer.

The silence dissipated. A delightful warmth occupied your rib cage. The pressure was gone.

All is back to normal.

"If... If you weren't sick. I'd kiss you." He mumbled, and his lips looked more luscious than ever. He shouldn't have said that. Now it was even harder.

"P—pfft... Of course, of course. Can you come closer, at least?" you pouted, giving him the best puppy eyes you could muster. “Pretty please?”

"... Fine. It's — not contagious, anyway," he huffed, his cheeks a light pink, and he sat on the margin of the infirmary's bed, hustling just a tad bit closer...

Closer...

"Closer?"

"Alright."

His ears grew pink at your giggles. Your fingers graced each other, "DEATH" entwined with you. His hands were lukewarm. Long, slim, calloused in some places, but also tender to the contact. His metacarpals were partially discernible, defining the shadows. He took care of his nails, ensuring they were cut short, although they appeared slightly, just somewhat lengthier than usual. Not considerably, however; they were still short.

How you missed holding it.

"Sorry, by the way. About everything." Squeezing his hand, you attempted to show him what it meant to you. He squeezed it back, brushing the top of your hand with his thumb, a pensive and solemn look on his face.

"No- I should apologize for not saying anything sooner. I neglected and avoided you. I … I don’t know what to do. You know I’m not the type for relationships.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, but weren't as worried as Law. You'll wait. Nothing would change.

“Mmm. I can wait for you, Law.” Saying it seemed to take him off guard, as if he hadn't thought about it. Or, rather, didn't expect you to propose it. In his head, it seemed silly because it's him. If you were to ask in his place, he'd also wait.

He felt lighter.

“… Truly?”

“Yeah. We can figure it out together. Like we always did. I’ve loved you for years." He inhaled deeply, your words buttery and sweet. "I’m fine with waiting longer.”

Thinking you wouldn't accept, if he asked, was stupid of him too. Of course you would. Of course. With another squeeze, he nodded, and turned his head away from you a bit.

His eyes glistened.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

You smiled, too, saying nothing in return.

He can take all the time he needs.

After some days, everything went back to the typical routine. The first thing you did was knock Shachi and Penguin's heads, (supported by Ikkaku) and since Hakugan and Clione were on duty, you couldn't do the same for them.

You puffed your cheeks and enjoyed chewing the well-earned treat you snagged from the kitchen, reorganizing boxes since this morning.

"Tired?"

Peeking at the door, a smile adorned your mouth at the sight of your captain leaning on it.

"Mm, there were a lot of them."

"You could've asked for help. You know I don't want any of you to strain yourselves with tasks."

"I had it. Don't worry. Although..." another bite. "I miss it."

"Hm?" he crooned, tipping his head forward. "Miss what?"

You gazed into his eyes, "Miss getting pampered by you when I was sick." lovingly observing how they enlarged a bit before returning to the stoic stare he always wore, swaying his head to dismiss your remarks. The chambré tint on his cheeks was as clear as day, like his light smile. Not that you'd tell him, he'd immediately disregard it.

"... Meet me at my office once you're done."

As he turned his back to you, his boots making clicky rumors with each step, your smirk amplified... After all, who could wait to get coddled by none other than their favorite captain?

#law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x you

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alllgator-blood · 5 days

Text

I have ten billion WIP sketches I need to finish, but for some reason I stayed up from 9 PM to 4 AM conceptualizing, making patterns, sewing, painting and applying makeup on this stupid fucking felt squid......the detailing needs to be cleaned up cause there's only one coat of paint so far, but he's pretty much done

my neighbors probably think I'm insane because I was running around the yard clenching this toy kallamar in a death grip and flying him around like an airplane/putting him in the barbecue/poking him with a stick. I want to tie him to a string and recreate the opening of napoleon dynamite >:) ALSO I MADE HIM SMOKE OUT OF A STUPID CRYSTAL PIPE BUT PLEASE DON'T ACTUALLY USE THOSE, THEY ARE SUPER TOXIC LMAO MINE IS FOR DECORATION

I don't have any process pics because I had tunnel vision autism style and forgot the rest of the universe existed while I was working on him. BUT if you're curious I'll ramble below the cut

Okay I am not a seamstress by any means. I've sewn my entire life but very, very infrequently. I've done plushies, clothes, cosplays, fursuits, accessories, etc. but I only do one like once a year, so while I planned to make all 5 bishops, I'm not really sure I'll get them all done. The material cost was like 20 bucks tops so I'm not too upset if I don't finish them. I AT LEAST WANT TO GET SHAMURA OR HEKET DONE.

here is the concept sketch ft. heket's toes and shamura's fingers. I decided to do his pre-schism version so I could fit him with jewelry! I did him first because like I said I sew infrequently and don't know wtf I'm doing, everyone else seemed a lot more complicated.

So I basically just traced this drawing on a printer paper-sized canvas in SAI, and guesstimated how everything would look in a 3D space. His head is four pieces, one triangle identical to the one in the picture, two wide triangles that are sewn together in the back, and a circle for his chin. You can't really see it in any of the pics but he's literally like a black cylindrical stick with little tentacles sewn on where his mantle connects to his cloak. The leg tentacles are one piece of felt that look like tassels, where they're connected by a rectangle but branch off into individual pieces. He can't stand up very well, so his cape keeps him up (that's gonna be an issue for every other bishop too except heket cause she's gonna be ROUND). Mostly everything like the crown, cloak, head, etc. are cones so I just had to make a lot of wide triangles.

For the details, I just used acrylic paint that was watered down so he's not especially crunchy, and for the blush tone I used a makeup palette my mom bought me 10 years ago in hopes I'd get in touch with my "feminine side", but I grew up into a nonbinary butch lesbian so OOPS. Kallamar looks better with makeup than me anyway. I'm kinda sad I couldn't get his freckles as lopsided as I draw them but it probably looks better in plush form to have them even anyway....

I could just post the pattern so I don't have to explain this but 1. I am mentally ill about the thought of my kallamar being in someone else's house and 2. the original pattern had to be tweaked while I was working on him so the final pattern straight up doesn't exist, I winged it the whole time

OH and the jewelry is just scrap pieces I had laying around, I might repaint it all to be gold instead of silver + bronze. I used 20g aluminum wire for his armlet thing, jumper rings for his earrings + ring (+ a diamond dot from my mom's kits for the gem) and chain for the bracelet. I made him an amulet as well but it felt like overkill so I took it off. I'm probably gonna make him a plague doctor mask and medicine bag sometime because I think about nurse kallamar more than I probably should :') I've already sewn one as a prop for a toy raven before so it shouldn't be too hard

#cult of the lamb #cotl #kallamar #plushie #felt craft #does this count as a plush or is it like a doll idfk #I just make shit because I feel like it not cause I can categorize it in any way #drug cw #ONLY CAUSE OF THE REAL PIPE #THERE IS NO ACTUAL DRUG USE HAPPENING

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wosoamazing · 3 months

Text

Recovery

Summary: Part 2 of Negative Thoughts and Beach Days

Warnings: Eating Disorder (slight talks of being sick but it doesn't happen) - let me know if anything else and I will add

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out, but I hope you like it and that it was worth the wait. Currently working on a two McFoord x Child!Reader fics and a Leah Williamson x Child!Reader fic and kind of a Sam redemption fic. But if you have any ideas for this series (either Barca, Arsenal or Matildas) or requests in general I will add them to my WIPs.

Lia had come over to cook dinner for you and Leah, it was something that happened quite often, however today the meal was fancier than usual. You just sat in your chair, in front of your plate, you used your fork to move the food around on you plate, taking small bites every now and then. You felt terrible you wanted to eat the food that Lia had taken the time to make, but there was a part of you that didn’t want to eat because of its fear of fatness and getting fat, and against your will this small part of you had started to take over more and more recently, causing you to feel funny when you thought about food, but this time something else was there, the thought of throwing up after you ate, this thought scared you, you had managed to suppress your thoughts and feelings for most of the meal however they finally bubbled over, causing tears to start free falling from your eyes, you felt stupid and pathetic all over again, you jumped up and left, sprinting up the stairs and into Leah’s room, you hide yourself under the covers and curled up, wanting to feel something else, anything else.

The two women that just a second ago were sitting at the table with you were in a mixed state of emotions, your sudden out burst caught them off guard, Leah really didn’t know what to do.

“Do you want me to leave?” Lia asked thinking it would be best.

“I’m sorry Wally,” you sister said to her still in a state of confusion.

“It’s okay Le, I’ll talk to you later, hopefully Bug is okay,” she said as they both started to get up out of their seats.

“Sorry about ending our night early,” you sister said as she hugged Lia, “it’s okay don’t worry, I understand, see you tomorrow, maybe?” your sister nodded before heading upstairs to find you.

Leah followed the sounds of your sobs to her room, she couldn’t see you but the lump under her covers indicated that you were there, she climbed into the bed and pulled your body on top of hers, she didn’t say anything, instead she rocked back and forth slightly whilst holding you tightly. You had gotten yourself so worked up you gaged, before you started coughing, Leah handed you the water on her bedside table, you took some small sips from it, Leah changed your position slightly so that your head rested against her chest. “Take some deep breaths with me bug,” you did as she said, your eye lids started to droop and your head began to get heavy, which Leah noticed “It’s okay bug, I’ve got you, I promise I will stay here, you can go to sleep if you want, we can talk later. Love you,” you didn’t respond, you buried your head into her side and eventually the exhaustion from your sobs caused you to fall asleep. When you body stopped shaking from your sobs and your breath was less rapid Leah sighed out a breath of relief, you had gone to sleep. She picked up her phone to see a message from Lia.

Lia: I hope everything is all okay, I cleaned up, I know you’re going to say I didn’t need to, but I did it just to make things easier, locked the door behind me. Hope bug is okay, message if you need anything.

Leah: Thank you, really you didn’t have to, but I really appreciate it. I don’t know what is wrong with bug, she was crying hard when I found her, eventually she fell asleep, I was worried she almost made herself sick, I think the only saving grace was that she didn’t eat much. I’ll keep you updated, sorry again about our night.

You become aware of your surroundings again slightly later, you were now resting against Leah’s side with her arm around your upper body almost supporting it, her laptop rested on her stomach as she did some work with her free hand.

“I-I’m sorry,” was what you mumbled into her side, alerting her to the fact that you were awake.

“It’s okay bug,” “Do you think Lia is upset that I didn’t eat her dinner? I feel really bad, she took so much time and care to make it and-”

“No bug, Lia didn’t even mention the fact you didn’t eat. She was just really concerned about you and whether you were okay or not.” you hummed in response “What’s wrong though bug? Do you feel okay?”

“um, well, I-” “It’s okay bug take your time, I’m here and I will stay here as long as you need” you knew from that response that Alessia had spoken to her, you didn’t know how much she said to her but she knew something, but you also knew Leah would want to hear everything from you, you wondered how long it had been since Alessia spoke to her, for her not to question you.

“I-I, I started getting conscious of my body a while ago and then these people on social media were being really mean and I know you say not to let it get to you but I did and then somewhere along the way I had obviously decided that not having my period meant that I was skinny enough and then I got my period and this voice in my head started to grow and was telling me I’m fat, and ugly and no one liked me and then I started to believe it so I stopped wearing my normal clothes and then when we went to the beach I couldn’t fit into my bikini and so the voice decided that I was really fat and ever since has not made me want to eat food and I’ve tried to not let it take over but it did and then tonight while I sat there looking at my dinner the other thing in my head was the voice that was telling me that if I ate it I would be fat and so I couldn’t eat and, and, and I’m sorry, it’s stupid and pathetic I know.” you blurted out managing not to cry, however tears started spilling form your eyes again when Leah sat up against the bedhead and pulled you into her lap and just hugged you tightly, resting her head on top of yours, giving you a reassuring presence. After you had calmed down slightly Leah started to talk, but she remained in the same position “I’m here for you bug, always, whenever and whatever you need, I would move mountains for you, I love you so so much, your my little bug. Please, please never feel like you have to hide your emotions, even when you think that they are dumb or pathetic or stupid because I can most definitely reassure you that they aren’t. We’re going to get through this together okay, I’ll help you, the team will help you.”

“I-I’m sorry” you sniffle. “There is nothing to be sorry about bug, this isn’t your fault.” she held you for a little while longer before she turned you around so you were facing her, she put her arms around your back, and looked at you. “I’m going to set up a meeting with Jonas okay, I try and do it for tomorrow morning so you don’t have to stress about it, Lessi did mention to me that she offered to do the meeting with you but I also want to offer to be there in the meeting for you”

“Um, could you do it with me? You can say no, but um, I would really like it if you could-” “Of course bug, I will definitely be there.” You smiled and leant forward to rest your head on her chest, before a yawn escaped your mouth. “Why don’t you go get changed unto your PJs and brush your teeth and I’ll do the same and then you can come back and sleep with me tonight,” you nod into her chest before getting up.

You climbed into the bed and snuggled up beside your sister, “can you tell Lia?” you softly said to her, knowing she knew what you meant.

“Sure bug, I love you heaps, have a good sleep.” she replied to you. You closed your eyes and mumbled “love you,” she placed a kiss on your forehead, and you quickly feel asleep. Once you were definitely asleep, she picked up her phone to message Lia

Leah: Bug is very sorry for not eating your food, the first thing she said was sorry, and asked whether you were upset.

Lia: Bless her, is everything okay with her?

Leah: um well, not really, can we call? Bug is asleep next to me, but she shouldn’t wake up.

Lia: Yeah sure, just give me a second.

You woke up the next morning at 7, slightly later than usual, Leah wasn’t in bed still, but you could hear her downstairs talking to someone else, who you thought was Lia. You made your way down the stairs and into the living room, to find Leah and Lia sitting there.

“Good morning,” your sister said as you walked in,

“Good morning, um Lia, I-I just wanted to say I-I’m sorry for not eating the food y-you made for us last night,”

“It’s okay Y/N/N, can I have a hug though?” she asked softly, you nodded and moved to sit next to her on the couch, she put her arms around you. She then let go of you, you moved so that you could rest your head on her should, she put on of her arms back around your shoulders and the other reached out for Leah’s, before she spoke, “we were thinking, maybe today at some stage I could or Leah and I could talk to the team for you if you want, it’s okay if you want to tell them yourself but we just thought you might prefer if we did it.”

“I think I would like that, thank you”.

You walked into training checking the time on your phone 9:30, your meeting was with Jonas at 10, you didn’t get the chance to train though, as your morning was mostly filled with tears and meetings. After you spoke to Jonas, who was very understanding you had to see the phycologist, dietician, and physios. You arrived in the dining hall a few minutes before lunch, and it had been obvious that Lia and Leah had told the team about what was going on as they all came up to you and gave you a hug as they filtered in.

Jonas had said that they would come talk to you after lunch, he encouraged you to invite a few people to stay with you to hear the plan so that they knew it in detail and could ask any questions they themselves might have. So, you asked Leah and Lia if they could join you and also Steph as she would be with you at Matildas camps but also because you thought she would want to know.

You were sat at one of the lunch tables, Lia and Leah were either side of you, holding a hand each and Steph stood behind you with her hands on your shoulders, as the staff informed you of the plan going forward. You were happy with it, it included some rules about food intake especially for game days but mainly just guidelines that you needed to stick to, you had to speak to the phycologist twice every week and the physios would be doing health checks on you more regularly. They would revise the plan in a month or so.

_____

You were walking out of the tunnel to the pitch for pitch inspections when one of the physios came to your side. “Here,” he said as he handed you an up and go.

“I don’t want to, I feel sick” you replied, trying to give it back to him.

“Well, that’s fine but you know the rules, you don’t drink it you don’t play,” you sighed as you pulled the straw out of its plastic and pierced the foil circle before you start sipping. One of the ‘rules’ in your plan for recovery was that to play you had to eat a sufficient amount of food that day, however you struggled to eat on game days due to nerves so the rule that you to drink some sort of meal substitute during the pitch inspection and finish it to be able to play was made.

“Thank you,” you rolled your eyes and walked over to Kyra.

_____

It was almost the end of mealtime, and you didn’t want to eat anymore, “Leah, I’m just not hungry, why don’t you understand that you aren’t listening to me,” “Just a few more mouthfuls please” “Leah, I told you I’m full.”

“I know you don’t want to bu-” “It’s not that I don’t want it, it’s that I can’t, I’m going to be sick if I eat anymore and that’s worse, realistically I want to eat more so I will be sick but that’s not healthy, so no, no more” you cut her off before your voice broke and you started crying, resting you head in your arms on the table.

“I’m sorry for pushing you too far Bug, I just wanted to help.” Leah rubbed your back, before you sat up and hugged her.

_____

“Tony, where are our up and go’s,” Alanna whined when you were handed one. Most of your Matildas teammates didn’t know, Tony said you didn’t have to tell them and you didn’t want to have the awkward conversation with them, so you didn’t, you weren’t trying to hide it, if they found out they found out.

“She’s just special” Kyra replies mocking you, you stick your tongue out before going over to Steph, who was with Mini.

“Up go, I wan” Harper said.

“I’m not sure if everyone can have one Harper, they might be special ones just for me,” her bottom lip dropped and started to wobble, “well maybe you could take this one as an ‘accident’ and I will have to go ask the staff for another one, I mean if they want me to play they will have to give me one,” you say with a smirk, before handing your up and go over to Harper, Mini’s brows furrowed, she was confused by what you meant. “I’m going to go get another one so I can play. Steph, you can tell her I’ll be back,”

You came back shortly later with another up and go in hand the way Mini looked at you informed her that Steph had told her. “You know you didn’t need to give her it, you should’ve kept it,” Mini instructed you as if you were her child before she pulled you into a one-sided hug, her other arm was occupied holding Harper. “I know, but they were always going to give me another,” you smirk “I mean they can hardly say no, how is that going to go down in the media.” Steph glared at you, “What?” you asked Steph playfully, she just rolled her eyes and sighed.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader

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silv3rswirls · 4 months

Text

this feeling

Summary | How could he go on? how could you do this to him? You can't leave him now, he'll make sure of it.

Warnings | explicit blood/gore, death, grief, cannibalism in the name of love and grief

Note | just a little something to get started writing again. granted this is pretty different from my other sweet home wips <3 thinking I'll start working on the Myeong request someone sent it next

sweet home wips + masterlist

This feeling? It was new, wasn’t it?

He had run back to your room the moment the monster disappeared. He had fallen to his knees so hard he thought he’d broken every bone in them. How? His lip quivered, how could this happen when he was supposed to be the one protecting you?

You had made it this far, even without him stalking behind you, you had proven time and again that you wanted to live. That you deserved to live. Now what? You were dead now because he wasn’t able to keep you safe from just two monsters? Two stupid little monsters- pathetic little beasts that seemed so mundane. Too easy to deal with compared to everything else.

Why was there so much blood? Hyunsu tried to stand, but couldn’t. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe he was just upset to do anything by crawling with shaking hands toward your body. “Hey,” He called out quietly, “you’re still there, right? Say something.” His hands slipped in blood, his pants soaked as he settled beside you. “You’re still breathing,” he says in a desperate matter of face tone. How could you be gone completely? You still had to say goodbye, tell him that he did his best and that it was okay. You’d be better off, that he had to go on for you and every other predictable line.

He kneeled there, stomach in knots. Sick to his stomach, your dull eyes unfocused and staring away from him. Carefully he caressed your face, turning you to him and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He closed your eyes, brushing his fingers over your face. He was glad at least, that your face wasn’t split and bleeding like the rest of you was. He could take in your features, though not as bright as before.

He wet his lips nervously, what should he do? He bent down, hesitant at first, but sipping low enough to press his lips to yours one last time. What a shame the two of you had only gotten to kiss once. It had been a small, shy peck a few nights ago. “This isn’t fair” he muttered, whimpering as he thought about what to do next. He kissed you again, and again, more feverish each time. Just wake up one more time, let him love you how he should’ve. Let him cast his weariness aside and grip your skin with love and no fear.

He exhaled, running his hands over his pants and looking around again. Something was happening inside him. A swirling, spiraling feeling was poking his mind. Why was he feeling this way? Why was the horror of your body dulling in his eyes? Why was drool pooling in his mouth; why was he leaning down to drag his tongue over the gash in your arm?

He shook his head, laughing at himself for a moment. Seriously? Now? Why was that thing inside his head talking to him? Saying nothing but everything at the same time. No words, just a feeling. A desire.

This feeling; had it always been in him?

This feeling, twisting and festering inside his stomach like parasites.

His eyes traced down to your stomach. There was a large tear in your skin, blood was still running slowly from him. He wondered if it had been that one, or the one in your chest. He moves down, he can’t help it. He takes a bite. Just one.

Then another, and another, until he couldn’t stop himself,

Its tenderness, its shellfish. It's good, it's feeding the thing inside of him. It's feeding the hole in his chest. He was blinded by desire, his fingers twisted inside you. Pulling you apart with care. He’s blind, his eyes are black, he’s lost but painfully aware. He felt disgusting, but what else was he supposed to do? You weren’t supposed to leave him. He was alone now, because of you. Nothing is going to let you get away. Not the blood, not the tearing of skin, or the labored breaths between crying and gnawing. He loved you so much, it was consuming him. The grief was devouring him, blinding him, pushing him to this. He wanted you, to be close now that you were gone. Why hadn’t be been able to before you were gone? Why couldn’t he of conquered his fears, why hadn’t this feeling come sooner?

It's not enough. The taste just makes him hungrier. He needed more, his skin pressed to yours. His mouth was full, the lingering scent of you staining his being.

He looked at you one more time. How his teeth had shredded you so easily, the sensation of flesh sliding down his throat. The sight of blood sweeping away. Your blood; he had to lick up your blood. You had to say with him. This was love, this was how he would love you. Sitting there, kneeling in desperation. Worshiping the spot your body had fallen.

Blood poured from his lips, his skin stained as it dripped onto his clothes and the floor. His jaw was lax, chest heaving again as he tried to steady his breathing. To love is to consume, but to consume is to devour and change. Did he want to change? Did he want you to change? Could anyone change any more? It's gentle and tender, the way he licked the blood from your skin and covered you with his jacket.

Breathlessly he lay there, looking over your body, to your face. “I’m sorry” he whimpered, “I’m sorry I hurt you more, I just couldn’t…I needed…” He couldn’t finish the thought.

He was hungry still. It's insatiable. Would it ever end?

#hyun su x reader #sweet home x reader

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sdr2lovemail · 6 months

Note

Daki with a gender neutral reader that's like a parent or older sibling to her. The reader is willing to help daki despite knowing she's a demon. and if you could add platonic cuddles that would be nice

Comfort in the Kyogoku House (GN Reader)

Synopsis: In the blood-soaked world that is her life, Daki finds comfort in the Reader's presence.

Notes: Slowly but surely getting back into writing. I have a few wips I hope I can finish! :)

Requests are open!

The shoji door slams open with great force. Your needle and thread nearly fall at the sound. Warabihime stands in the doorway, a nasty glare on her delicate features. She wordlessly stomps through the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Warabihime, good evening.” You greet her with a small smile.

She takes the kimono from your hands, tossing it to the side without a care. The oiran takes the fabric's place, practically throwing herself in your lap and hiding her face in your kimono.

You sigh while gently removing her ornate hairpins. “I’m supposed to be fixing that garment, Warabihime.”

There’s a sharp growl before she starts to whine. “So what?! That kimono is hideous! I’m more important than some disgusting colored fabric.” There’s a moment of silence as she rests her head against your thighs. Her voice is softer, more childlike. “Call me Daki, now.”

Unlike the other members of the Kyogoku House, you knew that Warabihime was a demon named Daki, along with knowledge of her brother. Originally, Daki planned on taking you away with her obi. As one of the nicer-looking members, she wanted to eat you herself.

She should’ve killed you a long time ago. You didn’t act like everyone else around the house. No, you spoke against her, chastised her for picking on the younger girls, never just obeying her like everyone else did. But you also weren’t mean to her. Acting so friendly towards her and wanting nothing back in return. In a way, you reminded her of Gyutaro. Always wanting what is best for her.

When you talked to her, it was stern but never harsh. It made Daki feel weird. She never gave anything to you but snide remarks and mean glares, so why did you look at her with such kind eyes? The entertainment district wasn’t a place of goodwill. People were only nice when they wanted something. Patrons pretending to be friendly to get a piece of the girls, house members trying to kiss up for better treatment.

You treated her like what she is not; a human. It was a new feeling that Daki didn’t want to snuff out yet.

Once you’ve finished taking out her hairpins, her hair starts to fall out of the usual intricate style. Your fingers rake through the dark locks, feeling her cold scalp against your skin. “Is everything okay, Daki? You seemed upset when you walked in.”

Daki’s brow furrows as her body tensed. Her nails dig into the fabric of your kimono, tearing small holes into it. Sitting up from her resting spot, she starts to go off.

“A slayer came by today! He was hideous. Another annoying brat who thought they could beat me. That stupid worm got his nasty blood all over my kimono!” She whined, beating her fists on the floor. “I’m Upper Moon Six! I’m stronger than any of them!”

There’s that feeling again. When your hand touched her clenched fist, Daki felt that gross feeling of warmth.

“I’ll wash your kimono with the next load of laundry. It’ll wash right out.” It wasn’t your first time washing out bloodstains. You've convinced the sibling demons to let you clean the rooms after obtaining their meals.

Daki puffed up like a happy kitty, returning back to her place, curled up at your side. She took your hand and placed it atop her head, wanting you to keep playing with her hair. Letting out a happy sigh, she pressed her cheek into your clothes. “You always do everything for me. That’s why I like having you around. Someone who treats me the way I deserve.”

Those weren’t her exact feelings. When Daki is around you, she feels a way she never has. Like it was a hundred years ago and she was a little girl again. But unlike then, she felt… secure with you, something she only tended to feel with her brother.

There was the sound of cracking bones and ripping flesh. From her back, Gyutaro separates himself from his sister. He starts to poke at Daki’s forehead, his face still holding that same apathetic expression.

“Mnnn, you can’t just come crawling to them when you’re inconvenienced. You act like such a baby when they’re around.” He groans as Daki swipes her nails at him. His skin breaks and heals just as fast.

“I do not! Unlike you, I can show my appreciation for them and their unwavering loyalty. Now shut up, you’re ruining my peace!” The younger demon moves so her head is resting on your thighs, her face almost pressing against your stomach.

Gyutaro growls at her snide remarks and reaches over to flick her before rethinking. He rests his hand at his side while looking over to you.

With that warm, kind smile, you wordlessly offer the other side of your body for him to rest. Sucking his teeth, Gyutaro turns away from you, resting against the wall instead.

For a while, the room is silent. While demons didn’t need to sleep, Daki enjoyed it. The quiet nothingness was relaxing. At some point, you had shut your eyes as well. Thinking you were asleep, a matted mop of hair rests against your shoulder. Cold skin grazing against your neck.

They’ll be gone once you wake up. But for now, you could enjoy this strangely domestic moment.

#daki x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer #kny daki #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #x reader #gyutaro x reader #but he only shows up at the end

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confetti-cupcake · 18 days

Text

WIP Wednesday 🧁

Thanks for the tag @hoodie-buck! 🩷 This is from my Amazing Race fic, which I thought might be a one-shot, but is quickly devolving into a two-shot faster than I can say "roadblock". Enjoy!

Eddie sighs, wringing his hands together. “So, I’ve been thinking a lot. About what you said the other day. How I should put myself out there more. And how I should maybe start doing more things for myself.”

“Right,” Buck says, cocking his head a little.

“And I think you were right about that. You made me think about things in a way that I hadn’t really before. Mainly what I’m doing with my life, and what I’m getting out of it. I’ve been living with Christopher so front of mind that I never really stopped to think about what I want. And so I brought you here to ask you something that I think is a little overdue.”

Buck straightens up in his seat and sets his hands on the table. He looks back at Eddie, eyes glimmering with something that looks strangely like hope. “Okay.”

“Buck.” Eddie takes a deep breath. “Will you be my partner?” He clears his throat. “Uh, m-my Amazing Race partner,” he clarifies quickly because he realizes that was his id talking there. He suddenly wants to sink underneath the floorboards of this establishment and live on as a cellar stowaway, if it means he'll never be perceived or slip up again.

Buck just gapes at him–eyes wide, mouth hanging open, no reply. It’s as if unbridled joy was thrown into a bowl with wilting disappointment and was promptly blended into the most utter confusion he’s ever seen on a person, even for Buck. His eyes, his brow, his cheeks and his lips all tell vastly different stories. For the first time in Eddie’s life, he’s not sure what to make of Buck’s response.

“Oh.”

Oh? This was… not the reaction he’d been expecting. “Yeah. Is, um, everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck says, vaguely gesturing into the air. “Just, uh, processing it all. So you’re… you’re really going to do it?”

Eddie nods. “I called her back this morning. You were right. I should do something for myself. A little extra money wouldn’t hurt. And who knows? Maybe it could be fun.”

“And you want me to run it with you? What about your sisters, or–or your parents?”

“You really think I could stand to race around the world with anyone in my family right now? And I hope you realize that all the reasons that you said I’d be good at it apply to you, too. You know more random facts about the world than anyone else I know, and you know so much about the race. And I trust you to have my back. Can’t really say that for many other people.” His eyes widen. “You know how to drive stick, right? ‘Cause Bobby says that’s important.”

“I do, actually.” Bucks gaze shifts down to the table, his fingers lacing together anxiously. “Eddie, I–I can’t…” he trails off, and flits his eyes toward him again, but can't quite meet him square. “You sure you really want to do this with me?”

“Are you kidding? You’re the only person I’d want to do this with.” This, and everything else, for the rest of my life. “So, what do you say? You in?”

Tagging: @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @queerbuckleys @bibuckbuckley

@ashwinmeird @loserdiaz

#buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #wip wednesday #fic snippet #nothing safe is worth the drive feed

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m0llygunn · 3 months

Text

good sunday here’s something I wrote a while ago. it’s part of a bigger piece, so there’s references that are foggy, but if I simmer it and reduce it to its essence, it is amateur writer!eddie x amateur writer fem!reader, reader wears a lot of layers and is pretty closed off. I don’t think it needs more explaining for how small this snippet is (1.8k) but if you’re curious about one thing or another, my ask box is always open. (sorry this is out of the blue but I just reread this and I like this part, I don’t think it deserves to die in the docs like all my other wips lol) (this won’t die in the docs but it will die unedited)

18+ only pls this is soft and not horrifically explicit but

“Do you think drugs help with your creative process?”

“Sometimes, dunno,” he shrugs.

Eddie asked if it was okay if you went to his place today. He told you that Friday night was his last chance to make a good chunk of his profits before Christmas and he had things he needed to do in preparation.

You watch as he weighs out little baggies of fuzzy green and brown product.

“Can I help?” you ask.

“You want to help me with this?” he laughs.

“Yeah, s’boring over here,” you say, feeling a tinge of embarrassment for your enthusiasm.

“Must be hard being such a pretty girl that has to sit around waiting, huh?”

You ignore his comment, pushing yourself off the bed and using your own judgment on how to help him. You help by opening the plastic bags and by tying them after he fills them.

————

“A woman’s love makes all the difference,” Eddie teases, pressing a kiss to the edge of your face as he puts away all the neatly made bags. “They look good, thank you sweetheart,” he presses another kiss to your skin, this time closer to your inner cheek. He stands and you do the same. While he put his stash away in a drawer for now, you settle back into his bed, sitting cross legged in the middle.

“You ready to go home or wanna stay longer?” he asks, catching your gaze.

“It’s barely been an hour,” you complain with wide eyes as you check the time. Eddie crosses to the bed, laying beside you so his head rests adjacent with one of your folded knees while his hand closes over your other.

“So stay then. I want you to stay,” he smiles.

“Sounds like you’re kicking me out,” you mumble.

“You could stay forever, I’d be happy.”

You scrunch your face and Eddie barks a laugh. His hand grabs further up your leg, getting closer to you as his fingers reach high on your thigh. You push him away with a flattened palm on his chest, fighting his advances just enough to make a point.

“Don’t be weird,” you scold.

“I’m not allowed to kiss you when I want and I can’t be weird? What am I allowed to do then?” He asks, laying on his back in comical defeat.

“Be normal.”

“See, that’s impossible when I’m with you,” he smiles cheekily. He folds both his hands over his chest, severing his ties from you, leaving you with not a single point of contact.

“And that classifies as a weird thing to say,” you say pointedly. You watch as he absentmindedly twirls one of his heavy silver rings around the knuckle it sits under.

“I like you, is that such a crime?”

He continues twirling the ring as he smiles up at you.

His room matches him to a T. Dark colours, hints of deep red that peak out under the clutter of personality that adorns every surface. Music is in your face, with posters that are screaming levels of confronting as soon as you walk in. The quietest part of his room is the novels that stay hidden in plain sight. A tattered book under a beer can, condemned to the life of being a coaster, a short stack just under his bed, they scatter everywhere and don’t demand the attention that everything else does.

When you feel like you understand Eddie it comes in waves like this. Like you have all the puzzle pieces but you need a particular clue to help fit them together. When they click into place it makes your stomach flip and your heart patter in your chest. It surges you forward and you find him. You kiss him to let him know you hear him.

He kisses you back and you hope he understands.

It’s awkward the way you hunch over him. Your knees press into the edge of his stomach and dangerously close to his crotch so you move carefully. He rises to accommodate you until you can sit a little straighter, feeling less of a stretch in your lower back. His hand finds your waist, encouraging you to sit up and uncross your legs while also pulling you into him. His kiss is soft yet firm and once you’ve both comfortable, it’s clear that you’re the driving force here. His hands don’t roam and he doesn’t deepen the kiss, he takes what you give him, as always.

You want more though, you want his hands to roam.

“Touch me,” you breathe into the kiss. With your hands on his forearms you drag them up your sides and he takes over, he feels up and down and he tugs and pulls the clothing barrier with every movement. You let your own hands sit low on his stomach, and it’s unfair the way your hands slip so easily under his thin cotton shirt, pulling it up to feel how the hair just under his belly button grows thinner the higher you go. His mouth stops moving against yours and he pulls back gently.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, searching your eyes while he holds the seam of your most outer layer.

You nod, agreeing quietly. He works slowly, letting his fingers gather the seam before pulling upwards, careful not to disturb the layer that lives underneath.

When it pulls over your head, he folds the material in half, placing it down on the bed beside you both.

He moves in closer to you, eyes landing on your lips but you motion for him to pause.

Finding his hand and placing it on the hem of your next layer, you meet his eyes. “Keep going,” you whisper. He nods, fingers finding their grip.

He could take every layer off at once, tug them over your head in one clump of clothing, but he doesn’t. He takes his time, unwraps you like a gift, paying special attention to the bells and whistles of zippers and buttons. He folds every layer with respect, making a pile of the mismatching fabrics that he’s silently cursed a handful of times for keeping you from him. He doesn’t want to make that mistake now, so he takes his time. When he gets to your second last layer he finds your eyes, making sure it’s okay.

“Go ahead,” you whisper. Inch by inch, the prize of your bare skin is revealed to him as he lifts the ribbed thermal from your hips, your waist, your chest, your shoulders, all the way to your wrists. Your poor thermal gets discarded without a gentle fold but you don’t mind.

Eddie’s eyes dance with lust filled adoration. He sits forward on his bed but doesn’t touch just yet. He traces curves and connects barely visible freckles with his eyes and when he’s looking for longer than you deem necessary, you find his hands again, bringing them to your skin and it feels grounding.

You part your hands from his once they flatten to your sides, giving him permission to roam. He hums appreciatively and his hands glide. They cover places you wouldn’t deem worthy of dwelling on and eventually, they start to squeeze. They feel like they’re molding you, pushing you in, and drawing you out all at the same time. You feel like you’re clay in his hands, but really it's the other way around. He’s learning how his hands fit to you, he’s adding the curves of your body to his lexicon, teaching himself how to speak to you through his touch. It’s a beautiful thing and you could cry.

“Kiss me, please,” you ask, needing him to take the swell of emotions from you. He nods before he meets your eyes, and when he does, he looks like he melts into valleys of softness.

“C’mere, sweet girl,” he whispers, using his new found language to fit his hands against your waist, tugging you forward into him.

He kisses you and it feels like breathing anew. Like words you’ve yet to discover, and dialects of feelings you never knew existed, it makes your heart hum.

It’s not long before his kiss translates every stirred up emotion into pure lust. His hands roam, rough at the fingertips but substantially softer at the palms.

Down to your last layer, he lingers at the equator of your back until it becomes the hottest part. The band burns at his fingers with every grazed touch over and under it. Despite that, he plays with fire, tracing the lace back and forth in quick movements that tell you what he wants. With a giggled approval, you feel the way he beams when he pecks at your lips.

Talented with his fingers, he one handedly releases the tension on your ribcage. Both hands move to the straps on your shoulders and he pulls back from his onslaught of quick kisses with a candyland worthy smile.

His eyes visibly dilate and your chest stutters with the breath that gets stuck in your lungs. He drops your bra to your lap, not letting it go too far just yet and he looks back to your eyes.

“Beautiful. Prettiest girl.” His mouth opens another time to speak but he closes it, mullingly.

“What?” you ask, shifting so your shoulders press inwards, unconsciously making yourself smaller in front of him.

He notices the way you change and brings gentle hands to your shoulders, coaxing you to straighten out. He moves in closer, letting the edge of his head press to yours, cheek meeting cheek.

“I just want to say thank you for sharing yourself with me,” he whispers quietly into your ear. “Not just for this, but for everything. I know it's hard,” he continues.

You nod, but you don’t know what else to say. It leaves you choked, throat swelling with emotions again.

Eddie pulls back to see you, not your body, but you and he smiles adoringly.

“I do like this though, I like it a lot.” His smile switches to a smirk and your choke becomes a sputter of laughter.

He kisses your lips, across your cheek, down your jaw. He kisses your collar bones, up the peaks of your chest and down the crest of each breast. He places a lasting kiss to the center where your ribcage ends and moves back up.

He lavishes you with kisses. Gentle, sweet, appreciative, and when you promise it’s enough for you to feel his purified adoration until next time, he helps you redress, but not without substantial kisses to your lips.

Eddie Munson hasn’t shown you any of his writing yet, but you trust he has perfected the art form because the way he looks at you is with the gaze of a man who’s dedicating more words to you than you’ve ever read, more words than you’ll ever know.

-----

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #abandoned wips #eddie munson x fem!reader

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ladytauria · 7 months

Note

💖 and 🧠 from the ask game <33

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

my writing voice! i used to hate re-reading my own writing but now i can do so comfortably, even when i pick up on mistakes i missed or things i would change <3

i'm also fairly proud of my imagery, lol. that was something i worked hard to develop, and while i DO forget to like... describe things still when im writing, when i do remember/go back to add that in i feel more confident in my results lol

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

i have SO MANY of these

okay. i counted up the ones i have fleshed out outlines for, since there's more to talk about, and then i rolled a die <3

so! it's a jaytim fic inspired by the lyric, "why do you make me want to leave the world behind?" from the song stardust by new politics. the rest of the song doesn't actually fit, & i'll probs end up not using that line as the title, lol.

my outline for it is almost more of a not-fic than an outline, so... i'll just paste that in here, ig. pls excuse my brackets <3

why do you make me want to leave the world behind?

Jason couldn’t tell you what the final straw was. Maybe it was the last argument he got into with Bruce. Maybe it was hearing Joker’s laugh, again, echoing through the streets of Gotham. Maybe it was the gunshot he took to the shoulder, a few weeks ago. It— The point is, it could have been any number of things. Whatever the final straw, one thing is clear: he can’t do this any more.

And it’s not that he wants to abandon Crime Alley, or his people, it’s just—

He’s tired. He’s been tearing himself apart for the mission since he was twelve. He died, even—only to come back and keep doing it. And now… He’s just… done. He wants to live, and he can’t do that when the mission controls his life. He needs out.

Thing is…

He can’t leave Tim.

Tim is… somewhere along the way, Tim has become his rock. They’ve moved in together. When Jason suits up, Tim is at his side. When Tim needs stitches, it’s Jason holding the needle. When Jason comes home, knuckles bruised and lip split, it’s Tim there with the ice pack. And when they’re finished tending each other’s wounds, large and small, they fall into bed together—sore but together.

Jason doesn’t want to give that up.

He knows Tim won’t leave Gotham. Knows that Tim views Robin/Red Robin as the most important thing he’s ever done, the thing that gives him purpose, makes him feel real. He can’t ask him to leave it. He can’t.

But he’s not sure he can stay, either.

It’s a big, tangled mess, and Jason is no closer to figuring out what to do when Tim approaches him one evening. He sits down with him, holding his tablet, looking like he’s got something on his mind. He doesn’t bother with much preamble.

“My parents bought a place in [idk, some nice coastal or country area] a long time ago. A small vacation home, I think. It was one of those things we didn’t lose when Dad went bankrupt. I think… It looks like a nice place to retire, don’t you think so?”

Jason can hardly believe what he’s hearing, even as he agrees with feeling. He has to pinch himself once or twice, as they start making plans. They’re as methodical about it as they are everything else, hashing out all the details. It doesn’t feel real; not even when they inform the others, not when they start packing. Not even when they finally make the move, or unpack, or settle into the house.

It’s not until the second morning that it starts to sink in. This is real. It’s happening.

They grow roots. Befriend the neighbors. Tim gets back into photography, dragging Jason out with him on long walks to capture the scenery. He gets a job, too, working on cars, and talks Jason into pursuing a degree, the way he always wanted.

They gets visits and calls from the bats, and their friends—some more than others—and they usually even remember to leave business out of it. It’s… everything Jason wanted, honestly—though it’s not always easy. There are still nightmares, restless nights, and times when neither of them can watch or read the news without the urge be out there. Especially when there’s a crisis.

The worst of it, though, is the itching, nagging feeling in Jason’s chest. The thing that tells him it’s too easy. Too simple. Eventually something has to break—and each nightmare, each restless night makes Jason more and more certain it’s going to be Tim. One day, he’s going to wake up and decide that a quiet life with Jason isn’t what he wants after all.

He’ll leave.

Jason keeps his worries to himself. Just—tries to bottle up the good days, tucking them close under his heart, to keep him warm when he’s alone.

Before he knows it, though, a year passes. Tim still hasn’t left. Jason wakes up first, like he always does, and puts on the coffee before starting breakfast. Tim stumbles out of their bedroom just after Jason finishes the pancake batter. Even with a regular sleep schedule, he’s still not a morning person.

He goes for Jason first; winding his arms around his waist and sneaking a kiss before he pours his coffee. He slips out of the way, leaning against the wall to sip his coffee and watch Jason. And somewhere between the first batch of pancakes and the fourth, he glances over, and—he sees it.

Tim is smiling at him over the rim of his cup, still a little hazy from sleep. His eyes are no longer laden with bags. His skin is clear, a little tan. He’s got freckles, just a few, dotting his face. There’s a light, a glow to him that once Jason only saw in glimpses.

He’s happy.

Here.

With Jason.

It knocks the breath from him. He doesn’t know what his face is doing—only that Tim is at his side in an instant, coffee forgotten on the counter. Wrapped in Tim’s arms, Jason finds himself spilling everything, every thought and fear that’s plagued him for the last year. When he’s done, Tim smiles sadly, his hold turning into something like a cradle, despite their size difference.

“Robin was the most important thing in my life for a long time. First because watching you both, knowing what I knew… made me feel part of something bigger. Something amazing. And then because it gave me purpose. I was doing something that mattered, and so that made me feel like I mattered. And being good at it… It made me feel like I belonged, like I was wanted.” He strokes Jason’s cheek. “But… It always felt like it could be taken away. There were times when I thought it had been. And then… us. Jason, I don’t need Robin anymore. You make me feel like I matter—and I don’t… I don’t have to… to be perfect, or prove myself. I can just be here, with you, and that’s enough. I’m enough. And that… It means everything, Jay.”

Jason is tearing up. Supposedly, he’s the one who’s good with words—and Tim has pages of love poetry and sweet letters tucked away that can attest to that—but right now? He has none. All he can do is kiss him, and hope that everything he wants to say comes through.

The gratitude. The awe. The agreement. Tim does matter, and he doesn’t have to do anything to earn it, because Jason loves him. And fuck—the reason Jason stayed, the reason he couldn’t just leave on his own was because with Tim…

Tim has always taken him as he is. He doesn’t ask Jason to be anything more than he is, and because of that… Jason wants to be. He feels like the best version of himself when they’re together, and to hear that he gives Tim that same feeling—

It’s everything.

Tim’s coffee grows cold. Breakfast burns.

Neither of them care.

[ fic writer ask game ]

#its sappy and self-indulgent bc that's just where i'm at right now ig #thank you for asking!#waffleinator-inator #asks and answers #jaytim #tauriawritesfanfic #also this is another idea/fic/wip ive wanted to yell abt so ty for giving me the opportunity to share!

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stormblessed95 · 5 months

Note

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "stormblessed95 "?

I'm stormblessed because of this Ultra badass super sad boy right here.... Kaladin Stormblessed has my entire fucking heart for the rest of my life

Art by Ro

95 for vmin 🥰

Some of my favorite fics! In no particular order:

Blame it on my Youth by youreyestheyglow

Paring: Andrew/Neil

Fandom: AFTG

10 years after the end of The King's Men, Andrew and Neil have decided to foster a kid. They have low expectations for themselves--they're not exactly ideal parenting material--but at the very least, the kid will be safe with them. But neither Andrew nor Neil do temporary very well.

Full disclosure: highly character-driven, minimally plot-driven.

TW: If you suffer from paranoia, this is probably not the fic for you. Specifically, Neil has bunches of paranoia regarding being watched, and also being murdered.

Locked fic, so you need an account. Words: 1,520,605 and a WIP too.... Lmao I know....but it's SO GOOD. I'm just.... It's so damn good y'all. Basically just andriel growing and healing together, being so deeply in love, their adult lives and becoming parents and helping those children heal from their traumas too. Just gorgeously beautiful and I love it.

That Isn't Nothing by Taekookschanbaek

Pairing: Andrew/Neil

Fandom: AFTG

A look into the lives of pro exy players Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten. The world says they hate each other, but when Andrew gets transferred to Neil's team, their teammates begin seeing something else between them.

Words: 38,362, don't be thrown by the author name. I KNOW okay. But like damn, the fic is so fucking good. Ive read it multiple times. Its solid story telling with outsider POV and I just eat it up! Protective boyfriends and secret relationships and soft for each other moments. It's so good

The One-Body Problem by metisket

Pairing: Lan Zhan/Wei Ying

Fandom: MDZS

The good news is that Lan Jingyi has found a mentor, friend, and constant companion through the difficulties in life. The bad news is that that’s because he’s been accidentally possessed by the Yiling Patriarch.

This fic is SO GOOD I keep coming back to it all the time. It's got the juniors dynamics, it's got the most wholesome bonding stuff, it's got Jingyi being himself and so loveable. So wholesome. So cute. 10 outta 10 fic honestly. Words: 28,689

Rotten Work by @shanastoryteller

Pairing: Lan Zhan/Wei Ying

Fandom: MDZS

Jin Ling hadn’t thought to keep track of Wei Wuxian. Clearly that had been a mistake.

so good. Just amazing uncle and nephew bonding that gives me literally ALL OF THE FEELS. I read this and then went and read everything else this author has written. Such good storytelling!! And this was just both wholesome and emotional and fun! Amazing fic, truly. Words: 63,907

Stunted, Starving Juvenility by @tomatenmark5

Pairing: Lan Zhan/Wei Ying

Fandom: MDZS

At sixteen Wei Wuxian is—through some strange twist of fate, or a nick in the layer between parallel universes, who knows—out of the blue confronted with that one incense burner dream one night.

While his curious mind is left unable to stop poking at this new perspective on Lan Wangji, circumstances in the Cloud Recesses begin to change and Wei Wuxian is suddenly presented with life-altering opportunities.

Maybe Gusu isn’t so bad after all?

(Or alternatively: The fic where I get to give Wei Wuxian the academic scholarship he deserves while simultaneously getting him hitched early on.)

Might just be one of my all time favorite fics/stories. It's still technically a WIP but it's soo good. Don't let that stop you. It's so long too. But that's just even more story to love. I can't say enough good things lol words: 742,856 (I know, don't be intimidated though! Lol)

And Time is But a Paper Moon by Sami

Pairing: Lan Zhan/Wei Ying

Fandom: MDZS

"Zewu-Jun. You once told me about a house surrounded by gentians, where you visited once a month, and how Lan Zhan still waited there, even when the door no longer opened."

Xichen feels light-headed. He feels shocked, and angry. He has never told anyone such a thing, but Lan Zhan is giving Xichen a look of utter betrayal.

"You told him?" Lan Zhan whispers. "When?"

Wei Wuxian takes Lan Zhan's hand. "About twenty years from now."

***

Wei Wuxian starts again from the beginning.

My favorite time travel fix it fic. It's genuinely SO GOOD I love it and I love all the sequel stories that come after it!! Words: 139,032

The File by Denimbeans

Pairing: Percy Jackson/Bucky Barnes

Fandom: PJO, Marvel

When Percy stepped out of the elevator, Hazel wanted to weep. His clothing was tattered, hair matted with blood, and he was covered head to toe in golden dust. But he was alive. It took her a few minutes to realize that he was alone.

Before she died, she'd heard reports on the radio about soldiers who came home. Shellshock, they called it, from being in the trenches, the bombs and the bullets and the dead. Hazel had met soldier, once. A man who'd come home to her little town, missing half his leg and most of his mind. The look in his eyes was hauntingly similar to what she saw on her cousin's face.

Percy was different now. Stronger, maybe. He'd made it through Hell, but not without leaving a piece of him behind.

I honestly didn't know if I'd like this one when I started lol but I loved it. The ANGST WAS SO HEAVY AND SO GOOD. tw for annabeth not making it out of tarturus alive in this fic. PJO and Marvel/Shield mash up and honestly I'm just so down for badass Percy fics. Especially when we see him from another POV where he looks so scary but in his head he is the softest most traumatized boy. Percy is everything to me. Lol and I ship percabeth so hard so this was an outlier fic to me 😂 the blurb there is from the first story, I linked the whole series.

The One Where Nico Has 30 Boyfriends by a_million_stars

Pairing: Nico/Will

Fandom: PJO

“Seriously? Me and Lester?” Nico looked ready to kill him. “If you keep speaking to me I think I’m going to throw up.”

Or, a new friend from college desperately tries to figure out who Nico's secret boyfriend is. He messes up. A lot. If only Nico didn't have so many weirdly close friends from high school.

Just wholesome adorable cuteness with some outsider POV, which y'all should be able to tell I LOVE by now

Mortals, Meet Demigods by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays

Pairing: Annabeth/Percy, Nico/Will

Fandom: PJO

Life isn’t easy for any teenager, but when you’re half-god, the word “easy” loses all meaning. Nine different mortals start to understand that.

Just cute wholesome outsider POV into the most precious of characters

Like Everything Glows by Annie_vi

Pairing: Jimin/Jungkook

Fandom: BTS

Jeon Jeongguk watches the sun rise and set on the water every day without wondering what may lie far beneath the surface. One nighttime walk along the beach upheaves his entire life, sending his human morals into a tailspin as he questions what his beliefs really are.

The first fic I read by Annie and still my favorite. I think about this story all the time lol. She is one of the very very few people I will read RPS fics from because her storytelling is just so immaculately beautiful. I love the way she writes. Truly. I need her to get published one day

@skygemspeaks retirement AU thread and every single fic it sparked inspiratiom for.

Seriously they linked TONS of them under their post and I read and obsessed over every single one and then went looking for more. Lmfao

Pairing: Yuuri/Victor

Fandom: Yuuri on Ice

Link to their Tumblr post:

Wrapping it up with @pekgna illustrated coffee shop AU that I'm so obsessed with.

Pairing: Shallan/Adolin/Kaladin

Fandom: Stormlight Archive

OT3 when Shallan and Adolin seduce Kaladin, their barista into becoming their boyfriend lol just perfection and adorable and the art is amazing!

Link to the start of the AU on Tumblr here:

Enjoy if you read them, let me know if you like them!!! And always feel free to give me fic recs as well especially if you want to send them to my side blog where I try to keep most of my conversations about books and fics now. My anon asks are on there. I've reblogged a few over there too. @moonofthesurvivor

#storm recommendations #fic recs

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bi-bats · 15 days

Note

timkon exes to lovers? 👀👀

(also, hi!!! how’s it going?)

Hello!!!!! Yes I am SO stoked about that one honestly because I have literally like. 17k words of it or something cause it's one of my older fics! Here's a snippet:

“Hey,” Kon said, and the room was too heavy, too thick for him to be sarcastic the way Tim knew he wanted to be. “Hey.” It was barely a whisper out of Tim’s throat, and for a moment he wanted to lean forward and wrap his arms around Kon. Then he remembered to be angry. It had been so long since he’d been in his room that he barely remembered how he’d left it, but he knew somewhere in his head that it shouldn’t have been so clean. Everything was tidy except for his bed, which wasn’t made, and that wasn’t quite right. He knew he’d made it before leaving, the last time. He wanted to smell his sheets to be certain, but he was pretty sure Kon had slept in his bed. No, Tim. Bad Tim. Creepy Tim. There was an easier way to find out, anyways. “Did you sleep in my bed?” he asked, and he hadn’t quite remembered to leak the anger into his voice. It came out soft, too soft, the way being around Kon always made him. Kon’s face flushed, but he didn’t drop his gaze. “Didn’t seem like you were going to be using it,” he mumbled, shrugging, and that was the spark Tim needed to remember he was mad. “Well, I wasn’t, to be honest.” His voice finally found that icy tone he knew Kon would recognize, saw the moment his posture stiffened as he recognized exactly which Tim he was talking to. “I was just planning on stopping in here to breathe for a moment, because that party is starting to get a little too drunk for my liking, so imagine my surprise when-” “Why didn’t you leave?” Kon interrupted him, his gaze burning into him.

jadkjfak I LOVE that fic so much 💚 would love to finish it one day lmaooo

send me an ask about one of my WIPs!

I'm going to answer how I am under a read more because that is sort of a complicated answer, and I'll be talking about health stuff so consider that my health CW/TW for it

Hi!!! Thanks for asking!! I have been wanting to give a little update on how I'm doing because the answer is... not great, honestly.

I got put on medical leave for two months and got diagnosed with degenerative disc disease in my spine (which is something that doctors keep telling me I'm very young to have), and I'm doing 6 weeks of physical therapy for that. Honestly, I've had chronic back pain for 8 years, and I really haven't had time to process that information with all the rest of the stuff I have going on. I'm waiting for an MRI to see what's causing the degeneration.

I've also been having heart palpitations and lightheadedness and chest pain that were mostly addressed when we figured out that I have anemia (not the traditional kind, though, and it seems to be being caused by something else). That said, I wore a heart monitor for a week before addressing the anemia, and the results on that were very reassuring, so my heart looks okay. I've still been having some symptoms, but much less.

However, I've also been having really horrible GI issues that I'm waiting for a bunch of tests to see if I need any procedures or surgeries done to fix, or if it's a problem that can be solved more easily. I have severe nausea, acid reflux, problems actually digesting food, and I've lost like... 12-13 pounds in the last month I think? I get hungry and then I eat and then food makes me feel awful, but if I don't eat, I also feel awful. My body is flat out refusing to digest certain foods and I do not know why. There are other symptoms that I just don't want to share. It's been really frustrating. I feel horrible all the time. I wasn't staying at home for almost a month because I just didn't feel safe staying by myself. I actually answered some of these asks tonight while sitting on the bathroom floor because I wasn't sure that I wasn't going to throw up (I didn't though! yay!).

But basically, just about all of my energy is going into figuring out what's wrong with me right now. And when it isn't going into that, it's going into spending time with my friends and loved ones in an attempt to get through some of the pain/stress.

So yeah, things are rough. It's why I haven't been super active on here or ao3 this year. I am having a really difficult time focusing on writing, and that sucks, because I love writing. It's my #1 outlet and like. I fully can't focus on it.

Anyways. I don't really know where to end this, but that's what's going on with me. I might post a little update later on next week if I get any answers. I have a CT scan and an upper gi scan next week to see if they can see anything wrong just from that, and then more tests after that too.

Thanks for asking, though! I appreciate everyone's asks, this was a fun little distraction from all the stuff I just talked about💖

Also want to add for anyone reading this: I have many doctors trying to figure this out right now and they are running every test we can all think of. Please, please do not tell me what thing you think may be causing this in a reply or a tag, because it'll send me down a medical anxiety rabbit hole and then all I'll be doing for the rest of the night is panicking. I know the goal of any kind of comment like that would not be to make me panic, but that is what it would result in. So please, anyone can feel free to reply, but please don't reply with any sort of diagnosis or suggestion of what you think the problem might be. Thank you for understanding 💚

#☁️ eidoloony #batsasks #bibatrambles

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anxiously-going · 2 months

Text

Found another fairly completed WIP, this one set post Elaan of Troyius.

"Jim!" Leonard greeted as the captain strolled into medbay. "Take a seat, would ya?"

Jim did as he was told. "Everything alright, Doctor?"

Leonard ran the tricorder over him. "I dunno, Jim, you tell me."

"You called me down here, remember?"

"I did," McCoy agreed.

"So?" Jim shrugged. "Where's the fire?"

Leonard folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not buying Spock's antidote."

"Is that so?" Jim asked, looking at the ground.

"It is. I know what this ship means to you, but I don't buy that it was enough to overtake some alien infection."

"And what do your instruments say on the matter?"

"They agree."

"Do they now?" His voice was flat and empty.

"'Love potion' is a very unscientific way of saying 'altering the body's biochemistry'. You're giving off some unusual readings here. Not as bad as they would have been right after the infection, I'm sure. But certainly not normal."

Jim nodded slowly. "So it wasn't my fault?" He asked quietly.

Leonard's face fell and he set aside his scanner to put a had on Jim's arm. "No, Jim, of course it wasn't."

"I should've known better-"

"How?" Len challenged. "Did anyone tell you what the ambassador said about the tears?" Jim shook his head. "Then it can't possibly be your fault. If anything…it's my fault. I should have warned. And for that I'm sorry, Jim."

"You didn't have any reason to suspect she'd try anything-"

"That doesn't mean I couldn'a warned you. But playing the blame game isn't going to get us anywhere. Are you okay?"

"I would've said 'no', Bones."

"I know, Jim. I know," Len answered softly.

"I wanted to- I tried, but… it was almost like dissociative, you know? I was just...trapped in my own body and I couldn't do anything. Not anything she didn't want anyway." Len sat next to Jim and rested his hand between his shoulders. "I tried to tell her it was wrong, but she kept saying it was what we both wanted. I wanted to push her away, but part of me was afraid to hurt her, and the other part… I wanted to get away, but it was like something else was controlling me. Like I was just a puppet."

"In a sense, you were. You're human, Jim. It affected you differently than it would have one of her own species. As a species they've adapted to those chemical changes in their bodies to be normal and probably even necessary. But you're not one of them. Your body wasn't prepared for that kind of reaction."

The captain gave a small nod and continued his staring contest with the floor. "Would the antidote do anything at this point, doctor?"

"It'll bring your body back to it's usual equilibrium. The human body is incredibly resilient and it's moving that way anyway, but the antidote will speed up that process."

"You have it on hand?"

Len nodded. "I do." He stood and picked up a loaded hypospray from the table near the bed. Jim tilted his head away and winced a little at the injection.

"Thanks, Bones," he said quietly.

Len sighed. "Look at me, kid."

Jim raised his watery eyes to Len's face.

"The antidote is only good for fixing your biochemistry. The rest is going to take time. It's going to have ups and down just like healing from any traumatic event would. So don't expect all this to just...go away because I gave you a shot. Be kind to yourself, alright?"

Jim ground his jaw and nodded. "Doctor's orders?" He tried to tease with a faltering smile.

Len brushed aside a stray tear with this thumb. "Doctor's orders," he agreed. "Come 'ere, kid." He tugged Jim into his arms and held him tightly.

Jim melted into Len's arm. "Sometimes, part of the healing process is to grieve," Len advised softly. He hugged Jim tighter when the younger man's tears began to wet his shirt.

Several minutes passed before Jim sat back with a sigh. "Thanks, Bones," he said, already sounding calmer.

Len gripped his shoulder. "Do you need a few days leave?"

Jim shook his head. "I'm alright. I'd like to keep this between us, as much as possible though."

"Of course. Whatever you need, just let me know."

"I could do with a drink, if you're offering."

"I think I can fix you up some cocoa."

Jim chuckled tiredly. "I had a feeling you might say that."

"Your system's outta whack as it is. I'm not givin' you anything to unbalance it further."

"I suppose that's fair," he sighed. "Thanks for lookin' out for me, Bones."

"That is what you keep me around for. C'mon. You can stay with me tonight."

#jim kirk #leonard mccoy #star trek tos #tw implied sa #my writing #i actually remember writing this one in a fit of anger #the few fics i could find set after this episode all had jim written as having cheated on his partner(s)#and it just never sat right with me #elaan of troyius

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greatunironic · 11 months

Text

tagged by @aidaronan for wip wednesday, and i'm two days late, but figured i'd use to publicly debut a bit of my steddie big bang, which will be podficced by the lovely @daysarestranger!

proudly introducing: scheming on a thing, a story about seven letters, the worst love song ever written, and a heist.

He cracks open the well worn spine of Return of the King once again, and stares at the Polaroid he’d used to mark his place before he’d left. It’s the Party, and the rest of the monster hunting crew of Hawkins as background dressing, and most of them are crammed onto the sofa at Steve Harrington’s place back in ‘87, right after Max got out of the hospital and right before the Harringtons sold the place. She grins from the center of the picture, sat in her wheelchair in pride of place, with her murky eyes magnified behind coke bottle glasses, with the boys and Jane Hopper draped over her and the couch haphazardly. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley are sitting on the back of the couch, laughing at something Argyle, who Eddie’s heard a lot about but never got to truly meet, said, and Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper are off together to one side, whispering, probably, framed in a open doorway. On Nancy’s left, also on the back of the couch, Jonathan Byers is rolling his eyes, a hand raised to beckon, at the blur of someone else’s body trying to duck back into frame in time to be in the picture. Eddie’s index and middle fingers hover over the swoop of unfocused, dark hair. His heart beats in his chest, his lungs expand and contract, and he can’t decide if the precipice it feels like he’s standing on is freedom or suicide. He can’t stop thinking about Chrissy, never really stops, always sees her on the backs of his eyelids, and isn’t that punishment enough? To relieve it? Every night, and every day, she haunts him. He doesn’t — He doesn’t think he has it in him, to do this again. To sit through another government funded nightmare, because surely that’s what this is, and to think that everything will be okay. To get his hopes up, to believe. To wish for the happy ending. Eddie the Banished no more — now Eddie the Free. But even if he gets out, will he ever stop being a prisoner to this?

#wip wednesday #(but late)#steddie big bang project at last revealed #aka a story about eddie in prison #also a story that owes a lot to the greatest television show ever aired #that's right #leverage!!

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venomxd14 · 1 day

Text

Fire Me: Part One

A Walten Files AU Script WIP

TW// mentions of self harm, implied suicide attempt

ーーーーーーーーーーーーー

LINK TO PART TWO

This is dialogue I wrote for a comic I'm working on for my Felix Goes to Rehab AU. Basically what's happening here is that Jack’s confronting Felix about coming back to work too early after promising he'd rest. If y'all don't wanna get spoiled to the comic before I draw it, I recommend you scroll away. I most likely won't finish it until a long time. Let me know if I can make any improvements. My main focus is the dialogue and whether or not Jack and Felix are in character. Don't be mean about it though.

ーーーーーーーーーーーーー

The sun just set, and everyone else went home. Jack and Felix were just about to leave the warehouse.

JACK: Felix, you didn't have to come today. You're on a paid leave for over a week. You're supposed to be resting like you said you would.

FELIX: I did rest, for three days.

JACK: The three days you spent at the psych ward for your mandatory watch doesn't count.

FELIX: It should count. I don't want to kill myself anymore. That's good right?

JACK: That's the bare minimum. There's so many things that are wrong here.

FELIX: Well- yeah, there is, but it's okay. I can handle it myself, and everything can go back to normal.

JACK: This isn't normal! What happened to you was fucked up!

FELIX: I'm fine! My wounds are all patched up, I'm out of the ward, and I'm working again. We can just forget this ever happened.

JACK: No, No! I can't forget what happened! You almost died, and you're telling me that you're fine? How can you just act like everything is okay? It's like this... You've... Oh my god. This isn't the first time something like this happened.

FELIX: Jack-

JACK: You've done this before, haven't you?

FELIX: Let's not jump into conclusions here-

JACK: Tell me the truth.

FELIX: I don't have to tell you shit!

JACK: Felix, Please.

FELIX: I...

Jack’s eyebrows would furrow, waiting for him to answer.

FELIX: Yes, I have.

JACK: Everything? The drinking, the burning, the cutting? All of it?

FELIX: All of it.

Jack’s eyes widened in horror.

FELIX: I- I won't do it anymore, I promise!

JACK: How am I supposed to trust that you won't if you don't even want to rest for two weeks?

FELIX: I can do all that and work too.

JACK: Oh really?

FELIX: Of course.

JACK: Then what's that flask doing in your coat?

FELIX: What flask?

JACK: You know what the fuck I'm talking about.

FELIX: I don't have a flask with me. Why would I bring that to work?

JACK: Hand it over.

FELIX: I don't have it.

JACK: Give it to me!

FELIX: No.

JACK: Felix!

Felix hesitated before reaching into his coat. He pulled out a small silver flask. Jack took it and examined it.

JACK: So you've been drinking at work too.

FELIX: Sometimes.

JACK: Sometimes?

FELIX: I only do it to relieve stress, you know how difficult this has been for me!

JACK: Which is exactly why you shouldn't be working!

FELIX: I can't just not work for two weeks! The restaurant is going to open next month, and I have a business to run!

JACK: "We" have a business to run, Felix! This is "our" restaurant!

FELIX: Right, sorry.

#constructive critism welcome #the walten files #twf #felix kranken #jack walten #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #writing #I fucking hate writing #felix goes to rehab #script #scriptwriting #au #alternate universe #WIP #work in progress

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moodymisty · 2 years

Note

Okay so I know that you talked about the Crosshair fic you plan to work on, HOWEVER, I saw your kinks request list and my mind in in full gear now.

So I raise you with Crosshair being so overstimulated by the reader that he begs them to stop or at the very least slow down. Do you understand the kind of power that can hold over me? How fucking useless I am just staring into space and sighing dreamily at this idea? I blame you wholeheartedly because now I’m stuck looking at a wall and not getting anything done

Authors note: I just want you to know, where ever you are in the world, you and I are on the same wavelength. I hear you, I see you, I feel you.

So my current ✧･ﾟ: Crossy ✧･ﾟ ; WIP is very similar in regards to just completely obliterating Crosshair. But, I had another similar idea that I decided to put here, since it burst forth from me with little to no warning. Seems to be a theme. This fic also made me realize that half of my blog is just, sucking clone dick. Ummmm, oops? I swear I have non-blowjob content coming( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) soon.

Relationships: Crosshair/GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Oral(male receiving), Voyeurism, Overstimulation, Crosshair shooting his rifle at a range,

"I'm bored."

Crosshair doesn't bother looking your direction, feeling the way your tone tells him everything. He knows you're watching him from behind with your arms crossed, there's no need for him to see.

"Then find something to keep yourself busy."

Of course he'd say that, as if he wasn't the one who'd dragged you out here to begin with. You use the term 'dragged' loosely however, as you were the one who had wanted to spend some time with him, and this was how it had ended up.

The long range shooting gallery was used far less than the normal one, given that sniper training was a special skill set that not every clone utilized constantly. And as such it was completely empty today, other than you and Crosshair.

He prefers it this way, meanwhile you find it incredibly boring.

There wasn't even anyone else to talk to, since Crosshair failed to make an entertaining conversation while he was too busy boring holes into a target plate. If there was a reg here you might've attempted to make him jealous for some sort of entertainment, even if it had the chance of backfiring horribly.

Walking forward across the room, you move to lean against the small divider that separates one shooting lane from another. He glances to the side at you for a moment, but ultimately doesn't comment. You don't either, until you notice the way his brow furrows; Intensely concentrated on something that for him, doesn't really require too much effort.

"Awfully focused, isn't this stuff just a joke for you?" He fires another shot, furthering his attempt at making something out of the blaster holes. You can't quite tell what it is yet, though he only started recently.

"You are really full of incredible commentary today, aren't you?"

“As always.” You scoff. Your eyes slowly travel down his arms and to his hands, seeing the way his hands wrap around his rifle. Compared to his brothers and the regs Crosshair is remarkably lithe, seeing the way his fingers move from years of muscle memory and intense focus. He was quite literally born for this, and takes every single shot no matter how easy as serious as he would if it was real.

You wonder what it would take for him to lose that focus, since he seems so damn insistent on boring you near or to death.

Glancing downward even further you notice the space between the walls of the shooting lane and his legs, hidden and mostly out of view. It gives you an idea; One that's strong enough to have you quickly on your knees, squeezing down to get into the hidden area shadowed by the table his rifle rests on. Needless to say Crosshair instantly notices, and leans back just enough to look at you down there.

"And what exactly are you doing?" It takes you a moment to figure out what you need to pull it in order to remove his armor, not looking up as your fingers feel around his hips.

"Finding something to keep me busy. Like you said." Managing to figure out the complex and unintuitive way to get the offending piece of armor off, you hear him take another shot with his rifle; Leaning forward into proper form again. He didn't even object to it, nor did he attempt to care.

Well, if he's going to just act like he isn't bothered, you'll take the whole thing as a challenge then.

The groin seam of a GAR sanctioned body glove is easy to use, something you’ve never really been thankful for until now. Your hand slips between the fabric, gently pulling out his cock from where it laid against his thigh.

Licking your palm from wrist to fingertip your wrap your hand around his cock and slowly move back and forth, feeling him twitch against your palm. He doesn’t audibly react that you notice, nor any other way than just a slight adjustment of his stance.

But his cock is already half hard so you know he’s affected by it, leaning forward to blow air gently against the tip. Adjusting on your knees you lean your head forward just enough to press your lips against his tip, dragging them down the side of his cock all the way to the base.

The sound of metal on metal clanking you assume is because he's messing with a piece of his rifle, while you drag your lips back to the tip of his cock and slowly wrap your mouth around him.

He fires another shot as your tongue laps against the large vein on the underside of his cock, your hands gripping at the armor on his thighs to hold yourself steady. He adjusts his stance again, forcing your body to follow just a tad. While he may seem unaffected, you'd say you know Crosshair quiet well; Enough so that he isn't actually all that subtle, you just need to know what to look for. His one foot is fidgeting, and he's standing more ridged than normal.

"You best be hoping no one else decides to practice today." No one will; Out of all the times you've been in here, you've maybe seen a handful of regs.

Despite his best efforts however you notice the way his voice sounds almost strained, feeling the way your lips gently wrap around his cock while the taste of precum hits your tastebuds. Moaning around him you adjust on your knees, moving to wrap a hand around the base of his cock that your mouth can't reach without him almost hitting your throat.

You think he grumbles something but it's too muffled for you to hear, and your mouth is too full to try and ask him what he said. It was probably some sort of angry mumble at you doing this to him, feeling your touch become harder, faster. Your hand pumps him faster with the rhythm of your bobbing head, glancing up to see the way he's still leaning over onto the tabletop.

It's been awhile since you've heard his rifle; He hasn't fired a shot for a considerable amount of time.

Pulling your mouth off his cock for a moment to take a deep breath of air, you quickly wrap your lips around him again bobbing your head and listening to the way he lets out an audibly surprised sound.

"K-kriff," Suddenly you feel his hand on your head, attempting to push you back but with little to no avail. You keep going, only emboldened by the way he's finally cracked.

"You gotta cool it down there." You have no plans to do any such thing, taking him as deeply into your mouth as you can while your hand grips at the plates of his armor. It makes spit pool in your mouth as he presses against the back of your tongue, but the way he almost crumples as you moan around him is well worth it.

"Seriously, you gotta-" He hisses through gritted teeth, hearing the sound of his rifle's stand wobble on the rest. His legs are noticeably less stable, and his body is leaned forward, supporting himself by putting his forearms on the table. You can hear the way he's clearing his throat and attempting not to moan, having completely abandoned any further attempts to shoot. He can't handle the way your tongue presses against his cock, feeling you moan with each movement of your head; Mouth completely full.

He lets out a loud, almost hiss-like groan, clearly muffled by a clenched fist as his hips suddenly thrust forward in the direction of your mouth.

“Kriff, slow down,”

He can’t keep up the unaffected ploy anymore, holding the edge of the table with a death drip.

You hear his first slam on the table multiple times, and it's more than fair to assume he's completely overwhelmed, desperately seeking more as his cock throbs in your mouth.

The motion makes his helmet topple to the ground, rolling across the floor until it stops a short ways away.

His one leg is bent a little almost buckling underneath him, feeling the way your mouth is almost suffocatingly hot around him. He swears loudly, cutting himself off by gritting his teeth. Now he's the one hoping no one will want to practice here tonight, as he'd rather do a million other things than be caught like this as you suck him off.

Hearing him helplessly groan he can't handle anymore of you and suddenly finishes in your mouth, hands flexing as he grips the edge of the table tight as he can without breaking it. He feels the way your mouth wraps around him, moving as you swallow and his hips jerk forward attempting to press deeper. You have to pull back enough to swallow, hearing his ragged breathing.

A small bit of spit trails down the corners of your mouth, and you slowly, teasingly pull your lips off his cock before wiping your mouth. Now free from your torture Crosshair leans back upright and looks down, spotting you.

It's the first time you've seen his face in a bit, and you can clearly see how warm it is, as well as the way his brow is furrowed; Refusing to make full eye contact with you.

"Are you done?" He says, glancing down at you for a moment and seeing the way you lick your lips.

"Are you?" It almost makes you laugh the way he visibly bristles, adjusting himself and his armor back into place before all but slamming his rifle into it's case and snapping the latches closed.

Getting up off of your knees Crosshair grasps your wrist and nearly starts dragging you, forcing you to have to trot in order to keep up. You can still see his face from his nose to the tips of his ears are flushed, his lips pursed tight. Of course now however a few unfortunate regs decided to step right in his way as you walk into the hallway, and Crosshair slams shoulders with one on the way out.

"Sorry!" Is the only thing you can yell over your shoulder before they're out of eyesight, all confused about what had just happened. You turn back to Crosshair and look at him, raising your eyebrows.

"Soooo, am I in trouble?" The look he gives you could cut durasteel.

Yeah, you're in trouble.

#mywriting #crosshair x reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #Crosshair/Reader #reader insert #reader

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bkglove · 1 year

Text

High

I didn't realize how funny of a choice this wip was to work on for Bakugou's birthday until partway through editing lol read it on ao3

no real warnings - some underage smoking weed technically but you can totally imagine their in college instead (it's Bakugou's first time and he gets a lil anxious) everything else is just fluff and bakusquad shenanigans

happy birthday to the gremlin 🥳

💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥 💥

“Hurry up idiots! Almost curfew!” Bakugou yelled loud enough all his dumbass friends (and you) could hear him in the small mini-market, uncaring of the cashier's tired and annoyed gaze.

He wished he could say it was a mystery how he always got roped into the group's stupid-as-shit antics. Especially when he’d rather be sleeping or on occasion, watching a movie (and cuddling) with you. But that was the fucking answer, wasn’t it? Your damn nagging and stupid face.

“You know what we’re getting the snacks for would get us in way more trouble than being a little late for curfew, right dude?” Kaminari unhelpfully pointed out, reminding Bakugou of the reason for this particular late-night snack run.

“More reason to hurry it the fuck up, Dunce Face,” Bakugou replied, crossing his arms and glaring at the other blonde as he went back to taking forever to decide between the same flavor of chips from different brands.

It was time for another “Super Manly OK Enigmatic Studying Event SHhhh" as it had been dubbed by the group, a very terrible code for a smoke sesh, in his opinion. (Even if it did take him a bit to figure out what it all stood for - it wasn’t his fault the idiots hadn't made a correct acronym!)

Basically, at the end of any particularly stressful as-hell week, his idiotic friends got stupid fucking high and, because you were his girlfriend - and definitely not because he cared about any of the idiots getting in trouble, Bakugou always sat around and babysat. You’d all assured him he didn’t need to do that, he could join or even go to bed, but that's where the important emphasis of idiots came in, and he stuck around.

“Okay, I got the really spicy chips you like and the little Twinkie cake things you pretend not to like. Anything else?” You stepped in front of him, arms arguably too filled with snacks but any leftovers would be used for group study sessions the rest of the week, so it was standard for everyone to go overboard.

“That’s gotta be fine. I don’t fuckin' know.” He muttered, darting his eyes around as he admitted the last part.

This time was different than the others. This time Bakugou was actually joining in; and he was definitely not at all nervous or scared about that - outside of not wanting to get in trouble and ruin his record, but that was normal. He was definitely not scared of getting high.

You stepped forward and tapped your forehead against his chest, arms too full to poke him, before looking back up at him. “You know you don’t have to, right?”

Bakugou frowned. “I said I wanted to fuckin’ try. I’m gonna fuckin’ try.”

“Okay.” You gave him a smile and then looked around, lowering your voice, “Remember, if you get anxious or just don’t like it, triple tap me or let me know somehow, and we can go sleep it off in my room.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Imma be fine.” He tried to act nonchalant, but he did appreciate it; and the secrecy. I made him more comfortable about the whole prospect.

“y/n, hurry up, we’re checking out, or I’m not paying for your stuff!” Racoon Eyes called from the cash register (the cashier looking defeated) it was her turn to pay for all the shit.

“Coming!” You gave him one more tap with your head before hurrying off. He stayed by the door, arms crossed, waiting for you all to finish up.

When finally the ding of the door closing behind you sounded, and everyone was headed back to the dorms, Backugou felt some of his nerves begin to ease. No one would be getting in trouble for missing curfew tonight at the very least.

With your hands-free, Shitty Hair and Dunce Face on bag-carrying duty, you slipped your hand into his, not giving him a choice in the matter. He preferred it that way, Bakugou wanted you close, and this way, he got to look like less of the sap he was for you while getting just that.

“I hope they don’t try to race tonight. My legs are killing me from training,” you groaned quietly to prevent the “r” word from reaching anyone else's ears.

“From training, huh?” He smirked, dipping his head a little lower to all but whisper the words and get you flustered.

It worked.

“Katsuki!” you exclaimed and hip-checked him, not hard enough to make him misstep even slightly, adorable pout on your lips.

“That all you got, baby?” he chuckled, cocking a brow.

You narrowed your eyes at him squeezing his hand tighter. “You better not K-”

But before you could finish, he pulled his hand from yours and called back to the rest of the group, “Gonna beat you slow fuckers to the dorms!'' Then he blasted off, your shout of “asshole” and the cries of his other friends failing to catch up making him snicker.

The wind in his face and the calming sound of his own explosions helped ease the rest of his not nerves as he waited a good few minutes for everyone else to catch up. Shitty Hair and Dunce Face the last ones to come huffing and puffing because of having to make sure the snacks made it, and their quirks being no help for speed.

The night was going to be chill, maybe even fun, not that he’d ever admit that thought. He was excited, not nervous about trying something new.

“Completely unfair, man!” Kirishima cried when he finally made it to the gate, hugging two bags of food tightly, Kaminari still a little behind.

“Gotta get fuckin’ faster.”

“I’m so gonna get you back for that later.” You poked his chest with another pout that had him smirking.

“Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes but stepped in tandem with him back up to Kaminari’s room.

“Kirishima’s turn to pick a movie, right?” Jirou asked after everyone settled in.

“Yeah!” The redhead fist pumped, big stupid grin on his face.

“Ugh,” Mina groaned, “you always pick the same dumb fighting movies.”

He frowned, opening his mouth and then closing it when no defense came to mind. She wasn’t wrong after all.

“And you always pick the same cheesy romances,” you filled in for Kirishima.

“But those are adorable!” Racoon eyes exclaimed.

Everyone gave her unconvinced looks and a few “not really” hand gestures with some hemming and hawing sounds.

She got the hint. “Fine.” She crossed her arms in defeat.

With that settled, Kirishima went back to excitedly looking for a movie.

“You’re actually joining this time, dude?” Sero asked, eyebrow raised as he started rolling.

“Yeah, what about it?” Bakugou got defensive.

Tape Arms shrugged. “Just surprised, you’re normally a grampa.”

“Yeah, what did y/n do to convince you?” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows, wincing when Jirou jabbed him with her jacks and shook her head.

“Nothing. I just wanted to try. Fuck off.”

“You sure you wanna know what we get up to?” you teased with a raise of your brow.

Kaminari frowned. “That feels like a trick question.”

You just shrugged with a sneaky smile and leaned back against Bakugou, whose frown had not changed.

Kaminari shuddered, and the others laughed.

And really you hadn’t done anything. At least not in the way Kaminari was suggesting. You’d been using it a little to help you sleep and had explained how it helped calm you down, he’d gotten curious from your descriptions, simple as that. It was important to try different things and if this ended up being beneficial, like the thousands of sites he had done research on before tonight insisted, then even better.

“Is Momo coming?” Sero looked to Jirou, one finished joint in his hand.

She shook her head. “No, she doesn’t really like the smell and all the smoke, but she might join a little later for just the movie.”

He looked to Kaminari. “What about Shinso?”

He also shook his head no. “Outta town cat sitting.” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows back at him. “And Roki?”

A light dusting of pink settled on Sero’s cheeks, the relationship new enough he still got flustered about it, his smile not budging even as he replied with a little bit of longing, “He’s with his family for the weekend. You know that, dude.”

“Yeah, but if you're gonna ask everyone else, I gotta ask you too.'' Kaminari lightly punched Sero’s arm. He just shook his head fondly before finally starting off the joint.

(Bakugou would be forever grateful none of the idiots he hung out with ended up dating Deku. Icy-Hot was one thing, the nerd would be too much.)

Bakugou scrutinized the way Tape Arms inhaled and didn't cough. He never cared to pay that much attention, and you had already explained how to do it, but he didn't want to look like an idiot when he tried, so he was doing his best to take mental notes.

Tape Face passed it to Raccoon Eyes, she grinned, took her two puffs with ease, and passed it to Jirou, who did cough a little, but he can’t tell the difference in their techniques. Then Jirou passed it to you, and then, fuck, you passed it to him with a little encouraging smile. He can tell the other idiots are watching him. It’s not that weird for him to be doing this. It’s not. People already thought of him as a delinquent, much to his chagrin, so this was nothing.

“You just gonna stare at it, dude?” Kaminari butt in.

Bakugou glared at him. “Fuck off.'' Then his eyes were back on the joint. He quickly brought it to his lips and; breathe in, breath in, breath out. Pause. Again. Just like everyone else before him, he made to pass it to the next person, but immediately his throat felt dry and scratchy. He tried to suppress the feeling, but he couldn't, and now he’s coughing like crazy. Fuck.

Tape Arms and Dunce Face are laughing at him, Kirishima is handing him a water bottle, and you’re rubbing his back.

“Totally normal to cough your first time,” you assured.

And that might be true, but even in this stupidity he didn't want to be normal, he wanted to be the best. He would have to try again.

“Coughing can make it hit harder, so be careful,” Sero warned, his teasing laughter subsided, Kirishima passing the joint he'd taken from Bakugou back to him after his too (easy) puffs.

“I’m fine.” Except the water wasn't helping, and he was still fighting coughs when it got passed around for his turn again, so he had to skip it and try again on everyone else’s third round.

You pick your head off his shoulder when it’s passed to you again. With an ease that he’s jealous of, you take your puffs and then hand the joint to him again, waiting before you put your head back against him.

It’s stupid to feel inferior from this. Especially because it is delinquent behavior. He shouldn't want to be good at this. But he does. So, when he takes it from you, he makes a big show of taking a long slow inhale, trying to get a lot, assuming that’s the goal, without making a goddamn fool of himself from coughing this time. He mostly manages it, two deep breaths and only little coughs that could be blamed on the earlier fit.

“Woah, dude, you’re a natural. Who'd a thunk the goodie-two-shoes could pick it up so fast,” Kaminari razzed, putting a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Bakugou glared his way, but the comment meant he did it right and did it well.

By his third round, he’s definitely feeling it. His eyelids getting heavy, and he feels - slow. Everyone else is still talking, but he can’t quite follow along, voices almost muffled unless he really focuses. Your hand has traveled up to his hair, and damn did it always feel so good? Your fingers scratch at the back of his scalp, sending satisfying tingles through his body, making his brain feel pleasantly fuzzy. The little bit of clear thought and willpower Bakugou has left he uses to stop any sort of dopey grin from making its way across his face.

“-gonna start the movie.” He barely catches someone (Sero?) say before you’re suddenly pulling your hand away and moving to stand, leaving his side cold. Did it always feel so cold? He had to fight a small shiver.

Bakugou gathers the sense to shift around like everyone else, moving to his normal movie night seat, back against Kaminari’s bed, legs outstretched, waiting for you to sit in between them, your back against his chest.

His limbs feel heavy as he moves over; like he’s a little too aware of the fact that they're there. All his motions happening slower than he’d like, sluggish. But then you’re there, settling against him again, and the thoughts are forgotten with how warm and comfortable it feels to have you there. Something he’s always appreciated feels even better now.

Racoon Eyes hits the lights, and Dunce Face presses play.

“Sharknado, dude? Really?” Tape Arms groans as the movie starts.

Kirishima lets out an offended gasp, sitting up to defend his choice. “What’s wrong with Sharknado! It’s one of the best film series out there!”

Bakugou is just barely able to follow along, the conversation moving a bit fast for his brain to process. He wants to call Kirishima out for referring to it as a film, but they’ve already moved past that by the time he’s able to conjure the words.

“It has romance, action, adventure, comedy, explosions,” Kirishima insists, tapping his fingers as he ticks off things that would make everyone happy.

This feeling, Bakugou decides he doesn’t like. The inability to keep up. But he isn’t able to dwell on it because you start shushing everyone, “It’s starting!”

The dialogue is mostly lost on him, going in one ear and out the other, the same almost muffled effect persisting. Maybe it’s the quality of the movie, but the visuals look more interesting than he imagines they might have if he were in his right mind. While only half paying attention, Bakugou found himself mindlessly running his fingers across Kaminari’s shag carpet, and damn, it felt so soft. He’s never really taken notice of it before, but now, the texture was extremely pleasing.

That had him curious. If this felt so good, what else might? His hand found your thigh under the blanket you had thrown over the two of you, your pajama shorts leaving much to be exposed and explored that he, sadly, couldn’t feel through his sweatpants.

Your skin is soft in a different way from the carpet, even more pleasing to his calloused fingertips. He gives a little squeeze - you shuffle a little, and he lets his hand lay flat again as you turn your head to whisper in his ear.

“How are you doing?”

It took a goddamned few seconds for the cogs in his brain to turn so he could process what you asked after you pulled back to look at him, waiting for an answer. He blinks, gathers his thoughts, then leans in to whisper back to you, trying not to attract any attention from the idiots, “Fine.” Then, he pauses, trying to explain the sluggish feeling, and ask if it’s normal, “Tired?”

You nod, but that’s not an answer. “Remember, three taps or just haul me up, and we can go.”

You wait for his slow nod before you turn back around to watch the movie.

You didn’t say if it was normal.

Was he not supposed to feel this slow? This groggy? He felt vulnerable. Could everyone see? How weak he was right now? Shit. Could he even use his quirk like this? If he had to fight, could he? His nerves are spiking. He can't stop it. The screen is a blur. He can't focus on what’s happening at all. Should he tap you? He thought you had been over-exaggerating the possibility of it giving him anxiety like this.

You had to be feeling his heart beating against your back, right? Why weren’t you saying anything? He shifted a little trying to make a decision between just standing and dragging you out or tapping you first. Before he can make the choice you turn to look back at him. He can easily focus on your face, the little worried furrow in your brow, the small part in your lips that lets him feel your breath against his face.

Kirishima shouts something at the screen, he catches a few words but has no context for them, and Kaminari groans loud in response. The others laugh a little, you're still looking at him. Bakugou squeezes your thigh again and gives a short nod.

Yeah, he’d rather be in his right mind, but if anything happened, even if he wasn’t at his best, you got him. Even if he hated admitting it, the whole group could handle it - anything that might happen.

His anxiety calmed again, he settled more comfortably against Kaminari’s bed, hand tracing patterns against your skin. He still didn't like the slowness, but the heightened senses he was enjoying. That thought was only reinforced when you handed him the extra spicy chips you'd picked out with him in mind. Anyone who didn’t like these had to be a complete fucking idiot, it was like an explosion of flavour in his mouth, then you handed him a Twinkie, at first he only got a taste of the chemicals and almost wanted to spit it out but that was quickly replaced by the sweetness with a hint of lemon that made him like these damn things so much. He kind of wanted to taste them together but refused to become that type of smoker stereotype. He also wanted to taste his own cooking like this.

“Want anything else?” You leaned back and turned around a little again to ask.

An even better thought came to his slow brain. He wanted to taste you feeling like this. Bakugou nodded slowly, then realized what you'd asked, and though he was very curious, he could wait for if he decided to do this again; or when he had more of an understanding of it (or for later if he still felt like this when you all headed to bed), he shook his head.

You raised an eyebrow, holding back an amused smile. “Yes or no?”

“M’good baby.” He settled on, instead of trying to figure out which way to move his head again.

“I can tell.” You held back a laugh, “You're honestly enjoying this a lot more than I thought you would.” Your hand found his still mindlessly playing with the fat of your thigh.

He pouted, but before he could form a response one of the idiots yelled, “How’s the baby doing?”

It took a few seconds for Bakugou to realize they were talking about him, but between you biting back a smile and the feeling of all eyes on him, he figured it out and shot back as fast as he could, much grumblier than he intended, “m’fuckin fine, fuck off.”

“Even weed can’t make him chill,” Sparky sighed.

Bakugou raised a middle finger, his responses coming a little faster now, or maybe everyone else was at his speed now?

There’s an explosion from the tv and then a knock on the door. His heart rate spikes. Oh fuck. They're gonna get in trouble. He’s gonna get kicked out. All-Might is gonna hate him, Deku’s really gonna be number one.

You must sense his panic because you squeeze his hand and lean forward to release some pressure from his chest.

The door creaks open and fucking Ponytail pops her head in. She wrinkles her nose at the smell, but when Ears makes grabby hands toward her, she just lets a smile cross her lips and walks in, closing the door behind her.

She settles in, then leans forward off the bed, and taps Bakugou on the shoulder. Shit. The two of them are usually the only sober ones in the room, she’s gonna wanna talk, ask for a movie recap or something, and there's no fucking way he can do that.

You must sense him tense (heightened feelings? Or would you always have been able to feel that?) because you turn around and, quicker than he can figure out how, you give Ponytail a smile and say. “There's not really a lot to follow - there’s a shark storm, and we’re watching the heroes try to stop it without dying or losing more people”

She darts her eyes between the two of you but must figure it out, smiles with a small thanks, and leans back to cuddle with Ears again.

Kirishima must overhear because he starts defending the movie again.

Bakugou sees Mina on the floor painting her nails with much slower strokes than usual, Kaminari and Jirou have gotten into a poke war every few seconds poking the other without really looking away from the movie, Ponytail flicking her eyes from looking at Ears fondly and the screen, Sero’s put one ear bud in, tapping away at his phone (probably texting Icy-Hot) and Kirishima is yet to notice as he goes back to watching swaying a little with the background music playing at this scene.

As Bakugou settles back this time, he doesn't even try to follow along just lets himself enjoy the atmosphere. You shift a little in his lap to be able to quietly whisper things to Momo every once in a while, and everything feels okay. He's not sure if he'll try getting high again, maybe just alone with you, but despite the brief moments of panic he feels calm now, he gets it, this is nice.

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