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aureatchi · 2 months

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⚕ ᡣ𐭩 . ° . AND IF THERE WAS A PLACE I HAD TO CHOOSE…IT’D BE IN YOUR ARMS TONIGHT. (bedroom session) ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, akutagawa, sigma

— how the bsd men treat you when you’re sick. (& more)

a/n. started writing when i was sick djsjsja. tagging my moots who were under the weather anytime this month <3 to them & anyone else unwell, feel better soon !!

info. fem!reader. fluff. established relationships. light angst & hospital in akutagawa’s. chuuya plays the guitar. you play the piano in fyodor’s. sigma’s a chef. some inspo from RED for dazai & fyodor’s (our hcs!)

DAZAI will cuddle with you anyway, even when you are buried under bundles of blankets. he still thinks you need a little more warmth…and you look just too cute wrapped up in what resembles an igloo to not nuzzle with you! however, don’t be surprised when he blames you for making him sick once you recover, as if it wasn’t his fault.

“A-choo!” Your eyes were watery, you felt too cold for your liking, and it was harder than usual to breathe through your nose. Your sneeze made you sit up in discomfort, and you hastily pulled the covers toward you.

“‘Bella? Are you alright?” Dazai sat up next, meeting your eyes as you turned your face toward him.

He noticed how flushed your cheeks were and how watery your eyes were as you frowned—no, the first thought Dazai had wasn’t Oh no! You’re sick!

“Aw, love! You look so cute!” And he tackled you back down.

“Osamu!” you shouted as he lay practically atop you, squeezing you like a teddy bear.

“‘Samu!” you repeated once more. “You’re going to suffocate me!”

“You feel so cold, though, darling!” His reply was muffled as he buried his face into your neck.

“It’s like you’re trying to get yourself sick!”

He sat the both of you back up.

“H-huh? What’d you mean? Why would anyone willingly get sick?”

“Oh, I’m not sure either!” you exclaimed. “Maybe so you can use it as an excuse to skip wor-“

You sneezed again, interrupting your statement, seeing through Dazai’s plan.

“Bless you ‘bella!” he replied, a bit too excited. “What were you saying?”

“I. Was-” you sneezed again. And then twice. And then thrice.

“Aw, my poor baby!” Dazai spoke in his infantile voice. “Looks like you’re super sick…don’t you worry your pretty head about that. I have a solution.”

“Yes, please,” you responded—as best as you could with him pinching your cheeks—thinking Dazai would finally get up and bring you medicine so you didn’t have to do it yourself. That was, in fact, a terrible assumption.

“You trust me so well you didn’t even wait for me to tell you!”

“Uh-”

He then proceeded to pepper your entire face with kisses.

“Get-well kisses! They work better than medicine, trust me. Because these ones are made from lo-ove~.”

“Osamu!” you shouted. “You’re really going to get sick!”

“Do you really think I care, pretty?” He moved his face so his nose was touching yours. “I’ll tell you a secret. I know why I’d get willingly sick. So that I’ll be taken care of by my favorite girl in the world-“

“You’re so stupid!” you facepalmed. “You see being ill as a reward?”

“Yeah, I’ll make you believe so by the end of the day,” he winked. “I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Thankfully, Dazai did give you medicine to clear your stuffy nose. And then he told you to stay in bed while he would prepare you…breakfast.

“Oh no,” you said, knowing well that you mostly cooked the meals for a reason. Dazai was good at many things, but there were exceptions. He wasn’t the worst cook, but he certainly wasn’t the best.

“Wait, please trust me on this one!” he pleaded before you could get up. “I promise you I won’t burn the house down.”

The brunette was staring at you with dramatic puppy-dog eyes, and you were too tired to object any further.

“You have to make sure it’s edible, too,” you glumly replied.

…

It felt like almost an hour passed. You started to get worried—was he really struggling with cooking you something? You imagined the kitchen would be a chaotic nightmare by now, and it was enough to make you want to check on him.

But the moment you decided to get up, the door opened with Dazai bringing in a bowl of hot soup. Surprisingly, you could smell the aroma—and it was good.

“You really underestimated me, ‘bella?” Dazai smirked as he placed the bowl on a portable bed tray. “Bon appétit!”

“I haven’t even tried it yet,” you smiled back. “It might be the worst soup I’ve ever had.”

It wasn’t bad. You hated to admit it, but it tasted delicious.

“The virus must’ve affected my taste buds, too,” you chuckled. “Because for someone whose forte isn’t cooking, this tastes really good.”

Dazai wiped his head with a phew! “I actually…put in a lot of effort. I wanted to make sure I did it all right for you. Sorry it took so long.”

You wanted to hug him. You found it so adorable that he had really taken his time to make you something.

“Awe, thanks, Osamu,” you responded. “This was really sweet.”

“So…do I get a few kisses and back rubs as a thank you?” he asked.

“Sorry, back rubs? I’m the one sick; you should be the one giving me them!”

…

Dazai ended up giving you the massages in exchange for continuing to cling to you without complaint. You accepted and were defeated at this point—the man really wasn’t going anywhere.

He continued to stay with you until you felt better, and very unsurprisingly he spoiled your recovery celebration by becoming sick himself.

“Heh…” he mumbled as you looked at the thermometer with a frown. Contradicting was Dazai with a large smile, despite just finding out he had a fever.

“Your turn, ‘bella!” he exclaimed. “I already called Kunikida saying I’m going to be out for another week! This almost beats a vacation.”

“Osamu!”

“What? Any time spent with you feels just as amazing. And this is just a result of how well I’ve taken care of you.”

CHUUYA wants to make your recovery as comfortable and entertaining as possible—he doesn’t want his darling feeling mopey the entire time. after all, enjoying something distracts one from the botherations of being sick, right?

You hadn’t done as much as you would’ve liked today. Unfortunately, you were sick, but not to the point where you had to visit a doctor or were stuck in bed. It was an inconvenient gray area, where you were still able to do things but accompanied by the mild symptoms of a cold.

“Nah, doll, you’re just a workaholic.”

Chuuya laughed as you pouted while trying to do your laundry. Just because you were sick didn’t mean you should skip your chores. You would probably still go to work the next day, too—as long as you weren’t dying, you’d be alright.

You sort of felt like you were, though. You were overcome by a haze of debilitation, whether you wanted to admit it or not. But you couldn’t just sit around all day.

“I’m fine though, Chuu,” you replied, but a contradicting sneeze immediately followed.

“Your nose is saying something different,” he replied, handing you a tissue. “If you’re so bored, how ‘bout we do something actually fun? And won’t exhaust the life out of you?”

“Well, what are you thinking?” you asked, curious as you wiped your nose.

…

Chuuya had you sat by the table with a bowl and a box of cornstarch.

“Out of all people, it was Q who showed me this.” You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, baby, it’s not dangerous. It’s weird, but I can’t deny this entrances me.”

Chuuya poured some cornstarch into the container and added a cup of water. “It gets a little messy, but…” he started combining the contents until it became a gooey mixture.

You started giggling. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the sort of crafts experiment you did as a kid.

“Chuu, this is quicksand. You’ve never made it before?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Quicksand? Nope. But look—if you play around with it, it becomes solid—isn’t that amazing? But if you let it go-“

“It turns back into liquid, yes,” you replied before you sneezed again.

“It’s so weird! What kinda manipulation is this?

You couldn’t help but laugh at how the Port Mafia executive was captivated by such a simple science project. You watched as he played around with the oobleck.

You realized you could live this day simply as well. You proceeded to make your own cool mixture as well.

“You got some on your face,” Chuuya said a little after you were finished with your venture and were washing your hands.

“Where?” you asked, about to touch your head.

“Right here,” you felt his thumb gently rub your cheek and then move around your neck to tug you closer.

“Just kidding.” He stole a kiss in its place.

…

Chuuya sat down on the edge of the bed with his guitar. It was late afternoon, and you decided for once a very needed nap. But not before your lover entertained you with one more thing.

“I’m gonna give ya a little performance.”

He strung his guitar several times and ensured everything was correctly tuned.

Your widened eyes in curiosity made his heart warm. You were so enamored with everything he did—just as he was utterly obsessed with you.

He started playing a familiar tune. Your favorite song. You immediately smiled despite your oncoming headache.

“One day, I think I’ll write my own song for you,” Chuuya said. “You work so hard, how couldn’t you be the inspiration of a ballad?”

You cherished times like these. Even though you were sick, you had the company of the soft, sweetheart side of the Mafia Executive.

FYODOR is full of surprises, and you falling ill is no exception. unexpectedly, he decides to let go of his schemes and responsibilities for the day, to make sure you’re feeling better.

He could already tell by your unusual exhaustion yesterday evening. You didn’t do anything that required more exertion than usual, and it was too frigid in the year for you to feel so hot.

Fyodor already knew you wouldn’t feel so good when you woke up the following day. Your cheeks were flushed, and your head was pounding. It even ached to sit up. It was the worst combination.

Feverishly, you sneezed. A tissue was immediately placed over your nose.

“Blow, milaya.”

You looked up at Fyodor, who was standing by the bed. His amethyst gaze fell upon you—his usual amalgam of tranquility and complacency looked a bit different today…was there a hint of concern shining through his eyes?

You took the tissue from his hands and blew your nose.

“You’re supposed to be at work, no?”

You tried your hardest not to get sick because of this reason. You would be another hassle on Fyodor’s list of endeavors. You hated the thought of contributing, especially when he was already stressed and occasionally neglected his own needs with what he already had to do.

“You would really expect me to when I had to carry you to bed last night?”

The previous evening was a blur. Sometime after dinner, the weather immediately flew over you, and all your energy just drained out.

“Ah.” You sneezed again into the tissue. “Well, I think I’ll be fine on my own. I know you have a lot on your hands. I can take care of myse-“

“Please believe me. You’re not being a burden,” Fyodor cut you off and directly addressed the point you had been dancing around. His hand found yours and started to massage your fingers. He felt ice cold against you—or perhaps, you were on fire.

“Is your throat sore? I’ll make you some tea.”

…

He didn’t leave you alone for too long. Fyodor returned with a cup of hot ginger tea that you immediately took, desperate for some relief for your throat. Your nose was quickly soothed by the warm, sharp aroma of the ginger as you held the mug close to your mouth.

If there was one thing you learned, there was a type of tea for every occasion. Fyodor had an entire cabinet dedicated to those beverages—all precisely arranged.

“Is it alright?” Fyodor asked as you sipped, the liquid alleviating the soreness in your throat.

“Yes, of course,” you replied. “Maybe after I can try to get up…” your voice trailed off as you struggled even to shift your position.

“What’s wrong?” Fyodor moved beside you again as you frowned.

“I feel really sore. Like I ran a marathon without stretching at all yesterday,” you dryly chuckled, even though that had not been the case at all. Your whole body ached; it felt uncomfortable to move anything, and you felt awfully weak.

Fyodor didn’t respond for a moment, thinking.

“You can still entertain yourself without moving. Do you want to read? I’ll bring you to the living room.”

You curtly nodded your head and picked out one of the many books on the large shelf before Fyodor carried you to the sofa in the next room.

“Stay on my lap,” he said, holding you by your waist when you tried to move away.

“I don’t want you to get sick too,” you replied, confused.

“I won’t, don’t worry. Besides, I’m doing a favor for you.”

He motioned for you to enjoy your book and not pay attention to him. So you did as he said—you flipped to the page you left off on and tried to immerse yourself in the plot.

It got easy to do so and lose track of reality because Fyodor started to massage you—hands moving in circular motions on your shoulders to ease and relax the pain on your joints.

You felt both too hot and cold alone on your bed earlier. But here, in the embrace of your lover, you could see the end of your little tunnel of fever.

“Thank you, Fedya,” you whispered sometime after.

…

He got up to do something on his own a little later, but not before tucking you into the softest blankets you owned on the couch. He admired you for a moment right after—a touch of amusement in his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” you asked with a pout. You felt like you were made into a burrito.

Fyodor had thought the same.

“Milashka,” he simply smiled.

You thought he went away to attend to the business he was able to at home—Fyodor was infamous for being a workaholic after all, but you were surprised once again when amidst your reading, you heard a melody coming from the other room. Rich and resonant, you realized he was practicing his cello.

You placed your book down and freed yourself from the warm blankets before making your way over to the next room, disregarding the dull pain that still accompanied you.

Fyodor didn’t pause as you entered and sat down on the piano’s stool. You opened the cover and placed your fingers on the keys before smoothly joining in with the composition you had secretly been learning while he was away so you could play with him.

He probably suspected it anyway, but you still smiled and felt a little pride as you harmonized with him without error—and while sick.

♬♩♫♪

There was a moment of silence after the final note. You felt at peace. The tune made you sleepy.

Fyodor stepped towards you, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

“You played it perfectly, lyubov,” he said before kissing your forehead. “How about a nap now as a reward?”

…

After a glass of water and an adjustment of the heater, Fyodor tucked you back under the covers. He checked your temperature with the back of his palm, and he was appeased to find that your fever had noticeably gone down.

You suddenly giggled, catching Fyodor off guard.

“Why are you giggling?”

“I had an observation,” you chirped. You wanted to tell him it was evident he had been stealing physical affection from you throughout the day and that he wasn’t sly, but alas, exhaustion had overcome you again.

You took his own hand in yours. “Wash your hands after,” you whispered before placing a kiss on his fingertips. “This was nice. I feel better because of you staying.”

AKUTAGAWA feels that the roles have been reversed because it is usually him who is sick, and you helping him get better. however, this time it’s you, and so he wants to repay all the care and love you showed him. for once, not to prove something, but to show proof of your adoration towards him.

You didn’t want Akutagawa to visit you that day. You had sent him a text earlier that you were sick—your pneumonia was so severe that you were admitted to the hospital. He immediately rushed over right after.

You told him he didn’t have to—truthfully, half of your heart didn’t want him to because of his already weakened immune system and his tendency to get sick easily.

Yet he still showed up at your bedside with a “get-better” box and pink tulips, a mask covering half his face.

“Ryu, I appreciate this so much,” you told him, a cough accompanying your statement. “But I promise you don’t need to stay—I don’t want you to get sick too.”

He didn’t respond before striding over to the sink as if he were in his own house, grabbing a vase and filling it with water. You watched him trim your flowers, place them in the container, and then putting it on the counter.

“Ryu…”

“You’re in the hospital. Do you think I could just go about my day like my girlfriend isn’t sick?”

Even though his tone was straightforward, his hand gently brushed away the hair covering your eyes.

He was visibly bothered. He hated seeing you in the hospital gown, lying on the bed. He hated the IV line attached to you and the distant beeps! of your vitals. Akutagawa went through this experience more often than not, and if not painful, it was always irritating and unpleasant.

He would never want you going through this, even once.

“Are you comfortable? Should I move you to one of the VIP rooms?”

“That’s not necessary, thank you though,” you replied. You noticed the exhaustive distress in his argentine eyes.

“I’m going to be okay, Ryu,” you reassured him. “I promise. Just don’t touch me for now.”

Akutagawa nodded. “Are you hungry? Is there anything you’re craving?”

“I want…something sweet,” you bashfully replied. “All the hospital food was savory…they missed a dessert.”

You could see the corners of his mouth slightly lift up—an unlikely smile, especially in a place like this. “No explanations are needed. I’ll be back.”

…

He returned with one of the sweets you always picked up whenever you went grocery shopping and a couple of figs for himself. Akutagawa didn’t like sugary things that much, but this fruit he could eat for days. He indeed ate one a day—you were able to observe how long he would be gone on a mission based on how many figs he brought with him.

Akutagawa had brought two today. Was he planning to stay with you overnight? You knew he hated the hospitals—he would never willingly go to one.

Yet here he was, pulling up a chair by your bedside.

“I brought a book,” he said. “Can I read to you?”

“Of course,” you replied. “I didn’t feel like using the TV here anyway, so nothing’s been entertaining.”

The onyx-haired pulled out a book from his coat.

“Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest,” he started.

When Akutagawa was sick, you often read him children’s stories to combat his restlessness. He was calmed by your voice and fell asleep faster than any over-the-counter medication ever worked.

The first time you had found him in the hospital before you were even in a relationship with him, you introduced him to The Little Prince. At first, he scoffed and turned his back the other way, pretending not to listen. But his furrowed brows relaxed, and his frown lifted as you continued with the story—the theme of the openmindedness of children compared to adults, loneliness, love, and loss all gave him something to think about.

Eventually, the book became a source of comfort and light to Akutagawa, and now he had his own copy.

"‘And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.’” By the time Akutagawa had gotten to that part, you had dozed off into a nap.

…

When you finally awoke, the curtains were closed, and the only source of light came from an ambient lamp on the nightstand. And in this night, you also felt a soft pressure on your legs—Akutagawa’s head. He had fallen asleep too, with the book still flipped to a page.

You felt both adoration and woe in your heart. He was sacrificing comfort and possibly his health for you. You desperately felt the need to stroke through his white-tipped raven hair, but you didn’t want to heighten any more chances.

You fell asleep again after minutes of watching your lover’s chest delicately rise and fall, just as he carried his true self without his violent front.

…

Akutagawa stayed until you woke up the following day. He went out to do some errands and then returned with a small gift for you he picked up during the day. That was the routine he followed for the next three days, always content to find you better than the previous day until you were all better.

A nurse came in with a final evaluation and discharged you. You changed into new clothes Akutagawa had brought you before running up and embracing him.

He hugged you back tightly, relieved that you were finally out. He turned to the vase of the pink tulips, which were starting to wither.

“Just in time,” he said.

“The get-well-soon flowers,” you giggled, taking your first good look at them. You loved how he knew of flower symbolism.

“Let’s get out of here,” Akutagawa said, holding out his hand for yours to take. “I despise dwelling in this place any longer.”

SIGMA is worried sick, even though you’re the one sick. how could he not, especially when he isn’t with you? are you feeling alright? drinking enough water? eating well?

“You’re sick?” Sigma asked over the phone.

“Is it my fault? I mean, I was feeling unwell last week, but I got better in a day, so I didn’t think it was that serious…”

“No, it wasn’t; please don’t worry,” you replied. You hated when your lover blamed your problems on himself. “But yeah, it sucks. I even lost my smell! I can’t smell anything.”

“Really?” You sensed his worry through the call.

“Do you need to go to a doctor? I can pick you up and take you there—or I can call the doctor to your house if you’d prefer that-“

“No, it’s okay! It’s not that serious; I’ll be fine in a few days,” you said. “I just wanted to let you know because I won’t be able to see you for a week. But don’t worry about me. I’ll update you.”

“Oh, I see,” Sigma responded. “Alright then.”

Firstly, Sigma was most definitely worried. Secondly, you couldn’t smell? He knew how much you loved the dulcet scents of the desserts he created and the delicate fragrances of your favorite flowers. You must’ve been even a little upset when you realized that sense was gone.

Of course, he wasn’t going to leave you to battle the viruses alone, despite you having just said you didn’t plan to see him until you got better. So, the part lilac, part pearly-haired immediately set out to plan a sweet surprise for you.

…

The next day, Sigma showed up at your front door with a homemade bento box and a few bags of groceries.

“What are you doing here?”

“I at least have to check if you’re eating well.”

One thing that hadn’t changed since meeting Sigma was the butterflies in your stomach feeling. He always showed nothing but ultimate consideration and compassion towards you, treating you like royalty.

“I’m trying,” you replied honestly. “Everything tastes the same. I can’t smell any of it.”

“Maybe it’ll be more appealing if the food looks nice.” With that, he walked to the dining table.

“You haven’t had lunch yet?” You nodded, expectably to him.

“Sit down, love.” He pulled out one of the chairs. You followed him, taking a seat as he prepared your meal—putting a placemat on the table and setting the bento box on top.

You opened the container, and you were revealed with an assortment of the prettiest foods. For the first time this week, you were hungry.

The ones that caught your eye the most were the rice balls decorated to look like chibi versions of you and Sigma. A part of you didn’t want to ruin something so cute.

“What—this is so cute, Sigma! You’re so creative,” you complimented him. “It’s like you cook with magic.”

You noticed Sigma’s cheeks tint a rosy pink. “T-thank you. Go ahead and eat while I prepare your dessert.”

“Dessert?” you asked as you eyed the remaining grocery bags he was holding.

“You’re going to bake here?” You weren’t complaining, but you wondered why he didn’t decide to do it at his place.

“Yeah. That way, it’ll taste the best. Everything tastes the best when it’s freshly baked.”

…

You ended up eating everything. Sigma’s cooking never failed to impress you, even for a previously sated stomach.

“I finished!” you exclaimed, earning a smile from Sigma in the kitchen.

You hadn’t paid attention to what he was making in the meantime. He had put the tray of mystery into the oven a few minutes ago, so you were unable to see what it was.

“It’ll be done in twenty minutes,” Sigma said, walking over to you and taking your hand. “Was it good?”

“Very tasty; I’m full now,” you replied, looking up at him. His ashen eyes shone a gleam of fondness once he made eye contact with you, causing him to fluster again. He was so cute—at times, Sigma still acted like a schoolboy with a crush on you.

“You know your body makes room for dessert,” he noted coyly.

He guided you to stand up, and as you did, a familiar scent softly breezed past you.

The smell of your favorite muffin—and the smell of Sigma’s kitchen. It was faint, but it was there. Your eyes widened in wonder.

“Wait, Sigma—I can smell this!”

Even though it was a bit dramatic, you were cheerful to finally be able to smell any thing after a couple of days. You spun with Sigma around the room in delight. Surrounded by the aroma that made you feel truly at home and the sunrays through the windows, you started to dance together.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, a bit concerned you were spinning around while feeling unwell.

“Yes,” you reassured him, drawing Sigma into an embrace. “I’m just thrilled right now. I think you’re cooking does have magic.”

…

The muffins were out and looked mouthwatering. Sigma took the first one from the tray and peeled down the wrapper.

“First taste is yours,” he said, taking your palm and placing the pastry in your hand.

“Today, I’ll be Sigma’s food critic,” you joked among the two of you. “He’s baked my favorite muffin—I’m rea-ally picky about this dessert, for your information. So I’m going to be really harsh on this review…”

Catching him off guard, you ate the entire sweet in one bite. You started laughing when Sigma abruptly gasped.

“Mm! That was delicious!” you declared, trying to sound like you were trying this for the first time. However, it contradicted the way you were reaching for a second one. Sigma had made this for you hundreds of times before—there was never one time you refused a muffin from him.

“Eleven out of ten!”

“And so are you,” Sigma added, bopping you on the nose. “If my cuisine does involve magic, then I hope that the food works better than medicine.”

bea’s acoustic songs are always so calming & pretty; in my mind, this is what chuuya plays for me. <3

i saw you said you were sick on the dash this month, i’m glad you’re feeling better by now/feel better soon, this is for you <3 @lovedazai @cheriiyaya @chuuyrr @osaemu @atlasnessie

i heard if you rb, your fav will give you get-well kisses until you feel better !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most <3

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baddestbittyontheblock · 4 months

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thomas shelby fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

「*ೃ࿔」 another chance by @smallheathgangsters thomas shelby x reader | 2.6k

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「*ೃ࿔」 dead of night by @justauthoring thomas shelby x reader | 1.2k

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「*ೃ࿔」 the right treatment by @ijustwant2write tommy shelby x reader, john shelby x reader (platonic), arthur shelby x reader (platonic), polly shelby x reader (platonic) | swearing, illness (including pain), injury, arguing, angst, fluff

「*ೃ࿔」 a free spirit by @ijustwant2write thomas shelby x reader | mentions of sex, fighting, threats, pregnant symptoms, shouting, swearing

「*ೃ࿔」 gunshot by @smallheathgangsters thomas shelby x reader | 2.7k | fluff, some hurt/comfort

-tommy and y/n spend a night together, but never speak about it again. that changes, when tommy’s business plans have a dangerous impact on the lives of people he loves.

「*ೃ࿔」 another chance by @smallheathgangsters thomas shelby x reader | 2.6k

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-"i can't keep kissing strangers and pretending that they're you." "people are staring."

「*ೃ࿔」 all nights after by @tessimagines thomas shelby x reader | heatedness and nakedness, I guess? no actual smut though.

-tommy comes to a conclusion one night late in bed.

「*ೃ࿔」 i chose you by @peaky-blinders-lit thomas shelby x reader

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「*ೃ࿔」 private ceremony by @storiesforallfandoms thomas shelby x female!reader | 1.1k

-after some trouble with his men, tommy and his bride to be decide to have a quiet, more intimate ceremony before the chaotic one

「*ೃ࿔」 fear by @babylooneytoonz thomas shelby x female!reader | light angst , mentions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy

-tommy and his second wife, reader, an independent, successful business woman are living a fairly happy marriage until the reader finds out she's pregnant. things take a wrong turn when their work life clashes with this news and in the end, the reader takes a devastating decision. without consulting her husband.

「*ೃ࿔」 nice to meet you by @merakiaes thomas shelby x reader | 2.9k

-you’re ada’s flatmate in london and you haven’t met her brothers yet. tommy comes to your shared house one night to find you giving karl a bath and as he doesn’t recognize you, his automatic response is to pull a gun on you.

Part Two - First Impressions

Part Three - Salvation

「*ೃ࿔」 speechless thomas shelby x reader

-thomas shelby knows that he’s going to marry his childhood friend one day. He also knows he’ll be a bundle of nerves when the day arrives.

「*ೃ࿔」 love is blindness by @blueathens tommy shelby x fem!reader | smut (MDNI!), raging breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex (please use a condom), tommy has A Thing about you being pregnant, 3.3k

-after watching you mother his boys, tommy is intent on making you the mother of his real children.

「*ೃ࿔」 protect you by @babybluebex tommy shelby x fem!reader | this is pure fluff no smut to be seen, violence is mentioned, injuries are mentioned, confessions of love are abound, tommy hates to admit when he's got a crush but buddy now is the time to admit it, 2.5k

-being a peaky blinder often makes you a target, but when a rival gang crosses the line, tommy puts you first.

「*ೃ࿔」 misbehaving by @babybluebex tommy shelby x fem!reader | smut (MDNI!), dubcon (the punishment isn't exactly wanted but the sex, reader is 100% into), impact play (spanking, belting), slutshaming, age gap (tommy is early 40s, reader is 20-something), unprotected sex, glimpses of sweet tommy

-you made tommy look like a fool, so he doles out a punishment that he deems appropriate

「*ೃ࿔」 little love by @twilightmyths tommy shelby x fem!reader | pure fluff

-thomas shelby adored you.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #tommy shelby smut #fic recs #fic rec

425 notes · View notes

sunofpandora · 6 months

Note

Hii could I ask a request for Lo’ak or Neteyam with a shy Na’vi reader?

𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷/𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/ 𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼

Neteyam Sully x Fem!omaticaya! shy!reader.

Y/n was always a shy person. Growing up a war orphan, being raised alongside the sully kids, forging a bond and finding a plantonic soulmate within Lo’ak, a sisterhood rooted with Kiri and Tuk, a somewhat chaotic friendship with spider, She finds herself on a winding path of romance with the eldest sully brother….

Disclaimers:

Mentions of parent death, undiagnosed social anxiety, mentions of fear, panic attacks, nightmares,

Tooth rotting fluff.

Spider and Lo’ak being ‘y/n protectors’

Neteyam wanting to strangle them for it. Kiri being a crystal girlie. Tuk being a menace.

(This is not proofread or edited and was written on a phone.)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ .𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Trust is a fragile thing. And most protect fragile things.

Sometimes, trust struggles to cross borders where shadows of regret and heartache dwell.

Sometimes we are held back, and our fears lapse until we are nothing more than lingering whispers in oblivion.

Y/n wasn’t a fragile thing.

At least, that’s what Jake convinced himself.

Jake Sully never saw himself as a father.

Yet again, he never saw himself as 8 ft and blue either.

But I suppose sometimes we don’t find what we are looking for. We find something far deeper.

When Jake had his children, he was able to heal some of the scars of the past, some of history’s cruel rhyme schemes. Lapsing glimpses of the ones he had lost.

Watch a new life grow, vibrant with color from the gray-stained past.

When Neytiri lost Tsu’tey, one of her closest friends and allies, it was like losing a brother. Sometimes soulmates are siblings, where others saw a replacement, a place holder for the sister she had lost, she saw Tsu’tey. The closest thing to a brother she would ever know.

Tsu’tey’s mate, Säyaron, the sole survivor of the couple, became pregnant a short while after Neytiri.

Losing the child’s father, a detrimental dent in the woman’s life.

Säyaron was a fierce woman.

Chasing waterfalls and leaping over fire pits for the thrill.

Everything made of revenge and fire coursing through her veins. Säyaron was a creature of habit. Like Neytiri, an archer. The finest of aim, the deadliest of gazes. A woman with lightning under her skin, her fingertips lingering the softest of touches in which she only reserved for her child.

Säyaron became ill, shortly after Y/N turned 3.

Recovery was impossible. Säyaron’s daughter was placed in the hands of her people to raise. The omaticaya was entrusted to guide her.

Neytiri and Jake made a promise to themselves that they would honor Tsu’tey, and Säyaron’s legacy and many following, looking after this child as one of their own.

Th3 bravest of warriors deserve honorable epilogues.

☼.⋆｡𖦹 °˖☼.⋆｡𖦹 °˖☼.⋆｡𖦹 °˖☼.⋆｡𖦹 °˖

But have no fear.

Where an epilogue begins, a second story surely follows.

Y/n was born a few months after Neteyam.

Raised alongside the Sully children, Y/n was a rather quiet little one.

Y/n often dwelled herself with Norm’s bunch. The war orphaned children he ‘adopted’ soon after the battle of the hallelujah mountains, Spider included.

Although, Y/n wasn’t one for crowds.

Her shyness built herself a barrier from others, and sometimes a rather strong one at that.

She fared well with Lo’ak, Kiri, even Spider. But outside of the small circle of sully’s, her attamepts at socializing seemed to lapse over dead ends, to no avail.

But she wasn’t fragile.

No. Fragile wasn’t the right word.

Soft?

No. Soft is for objects.

Poor thing would even flinch when Jake would drop something, or when little Tuk would start wailing during her infantry years.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Shhhh…ma’prrnen…”

Neytiri cooed, scooping up Tuk from her tiny woven made carrier.

Y/n peaked out from behind the small bow holder, sat perched was a couple hunting spears and the bow that was formerly eytukans.

Neytiri smiles at the child.

“Y/n, would you like to hold her?”

Neytiri reached her free arm out, motioning the little one over.

Neytiri hadn’t adopted y/n, not to the same degree of officialness as Kiri.

But the little one was still one of her children. Under her care, her love, her guidance.

Y/n froze up. Her tail twitched, her ears pin back, she shook her head and scurried away. Slinking back into the corner hooded by the shadows.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Jake looked after Y/n like a daughter.

Holding her small hand within his whenever the family traveled, keeping her close, his eyes lingering on her for just a beat longer whenever Lo’ak dragged her off to play some stupid game.

Children aren’t perfect.

Of course, if there’s one thing Jake has learned from becoming one of the people, it’s that na’vi are significantly better people than humans. Smarter, that’s for one. Their fingertips stained with the brown dirt of the great mother’s skin instead of the oil that rusted off of the RDA machines.

Na’vi may not be human, but they are still people.

Imperfect, flawed creatures at times.

When he first met Neytiri, he had no knowledge of this. Blinded by the beautiful, towering azure-skinned goddess she appeared as, who fancied herself Cupid, striking an arrow through his heart in all the wrong places.

As he learned, as he grew, he realized that Na’vi weren’t aliens at all.

Children still bickered over toys and petty games, teenagers still gossiped over who wore the feathered top better, or who hunted the most game, who was to be mated first, and last.

Jake’s children were typical examples of this.

“Why should I let you have it?!”

“I had it first!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Lo’ak you liar!”

Jake sighed, rubbing his fingers against his temples, hitting the pressure points Mo’at taught him about, attempting to soothe the headache that brewed.

Ah, the joy of children.

He glanced over at Lo’ak and Kiri, the trouble twins, as Jake called them.

Lo’ak, the spawn of recklessness in every form.

Boyish as the word comes, you find sensitivity, if you turn him over, backwards and then upside down again, and graze your fingertips over the right edges.

Or in his case, one fingertips too many.

And Kiri, a mysterious creation. Who’s heart beats with the rhythm of eywa’s pulse. Who’s eyes longed for otherness.

Things that grew beyond the edge of her grasp. Beautifully out of place.

He peered down at Y/n, who had perched herself next to him. A feather top covered her chest, similar to the one Kiri wore., handmade by Neytiri.

Her hair, a dark void of charcoaled honey brown, small beads adorned the shoulder length braids.

Jake sighed, running a hand along her back.

“What are we gonna do with them, babygirl, hm?”

Y/ns ears perked up, looking up from the small flower stems she was braiding.

Y/n was a shadow.

Slipping into backgrounds, the darkness in small corners and shades of trees becoming a sanctuary of silence.

A shell of what Jake was accustomed to. Jake didn’t like silence. Silence was daunting. It’s something that demands attention.

Y/n wasn’t silent. She was quiet. There’s a difference. A paradox of hidden things could only be heard when gently whispered, not pried open.

She fiddles with the woven strands on his armband, he allows her, his voice quiet to not overbear her.

She treats the flowers like living things.

Gentle, small things with lungs and a heart, just like her. When Lo’ak was 4, y/n 5, he grew a habit of carelessly stomping through the tswakesyul flower bed whenever he and spider raced up the creek, the small noises of nervousness that fell from Y/n’s lips, little hands itching to wilt them up to their right side again.

Where others looked over a tiny, withered voice and shaky hands, stuttering speech and unbraided hair that was known as Y/n, Jake and Neytiri saw a child who cared. Longed for something to protect without the consistency of burdening noise to shake her.

A child who watered the flowers, planted extra seeds, picked more fruit than she could carry because she cared too much.

Jake watches as Y/n carefully braids the flowers. Her fingers weaving between the stems, gently cradling stories.

Stories?

Yes, Stories.

Plants harbor memory.

Memories that we cannot see.

Well, Jake can’t at least.

Where he saw a leaf, Y/n saw a piece of the great mother that had grown through the seasons, refusing surrender during Great storms, but instead be blown with the wind to find itself placed here, on the ground. Stories of stars and wild skies, such fragile things like flowers spoke to her.

“I HATE YOU!”

“I hate you times Infinity, Lo’ak!

Penis face-!”

“Hey! That’s enough. Don’t make me come over there.”

Jake glared at his two children.

Kiri huffed, her chin tilted up in disapproval of Jake’s intervention.

She was Grace’s child, through and through. Don’t believe me? Grace’s sass still haunts us all.

“She started it!”

Lo’ak protested, snatching the toy away from Kiri who snickered as she whacked him with her tail.

“Ow! Dad-!”

“Enough. Kiri, go over there, Lo’ak, you over there.”

Jake stood up, withdrawing himself from his peaceful spot in the shade with Y/n.

Grabbing Kiri by one arm, Lo’ak by the other.

“No fair. Dad, we wanna play!”

Kiri whines.

“Then play away from one another, please?”

Lo’ak huffed, like the petty 7 year old he was,

“Fine. I’m gonna go play with…”

His hands dangled at his sides, eyes flickering for his next victim-

I mean playmate.

“Y/n!”

Before Jake can protest, Lo’ak jogs his way over to Y/n. Roughly grabbing her by her arm and dragging her away towards the shallow creek, Jake sometimes took Neteyam to practice fishing.

A small squeak of surprise leaves Y/n’s lips.

”lo’ak! Gentle for Eywa’ s sake.”

Jake scolded.

Lo’ak waved his dad off, ridding his remark from the Pandora air.

“We’ll be back soon! I promise! We’re gonna go play in the river!”

“Be home by sundown. And be careful!”

Jake sighed, taking Kiri home to go play with baby Tuk and Neteyam.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Spider roared playfully as he chased Y/n and Lo’ak.

Lo’ak, Spider, and Y/n forged themselves into a nest of chaos.

It stunned Jake, to see two na’vi children treat a human like one of their own, helping him re-twist his locs and paint his skin the colors of their culture in hopes it’ll stain itself a new life in its wake.

It scared Jake, in a way.

To see bonds forged out of something so undeniably dangerous.

The kind of paradox of love that was stitched together out of mismatched pieces.

They fit if you place them in the right position.

The deepest rivers, the vastest of oceans, kindred with the sun, the moon, the stars.

You can’t have 1 without the other 2 tagging behind.

Trust. That’s what the 3 had.

Neytiri and Jake watched from afar, their looming shadows remaining unveiling over their children.

Neytiri saw spider as nothing but a burden.

The type of animal with no hope of survival, but refuses surrender. It clings to life even in the excess of misery.

Neytiri’s anger was a shallow thing.

Yet, it roots itself deeper than Jake could reach. A daughter of the forest, whom dances where other struggle to stand on uneven ground.

When it came to Spider, it awakened A destructive havoc we call distrust, introduced officially as our antagonist.

A costume. An actor. Entertainment in its most pathetic form. A pale child painting their self blue.

Wishing for the type of dream that lets him sleep in longer.

That’s what Neytiri saw.

When jake looked at Spider, he saw an unfinished canvas.

That’s why Spider paints himself.

“He belongs with his own kind.”

Jake looks towards his wife, his eyes glancing a pattern between the trio and his mate.

“He’s just playing.”

Jake adds, the mumble lingered in the pandora air.

Neytiri clicked her tongue, wincing a bit as she watched the boy roughly pull on Y/n’s tail.

Something she would have considered harmless roughhousing, if Spider was a na’vi child.

Neteyam peeked from behind his mothers leg, his tail flicking curiously as he watched his brother, Y/n and spider run around.

“I am the hungry thanator! Coming to eat you all!”

Spider hissed, running to catch up with Lo’ak and Y/n.

“Not with those legs you’re not!!”

Lo’ak jumped into a higher branch, one which spider couldn’t reach.

“Lo’ak! No fair! I can’t reach!”

Spider complained, attempting jumping for a few failed attempts at catching the mischievous na’vi boy.

“No way! I’m not trying to get eaten!”

“I’m still on the ground!”

Y/n waves her arms around, signaling to spider to come get his free meal.

Y/n wasn’t like Lo’ak. When she played with spider, sparing him the difficulty of things his body wasn’t made for.

Spider’s eyes lit up and he roared once again, charging at Y/n, feet assaulting the ground beneath him with splashes in the shin-deep water.

Y/n squealed and found herself tackled by the human boy.

“Caught you! Now I will feast!”

Spider laughed.

“I’ll protect you Y/n!”

Lo’ak tackled spider, Neteyam watched as chaos ensued between the three.

“Neteyam, you wanna go join them, bud?”

Jake nudged his eldest lightly.

But teyam shook his head, his feet rooting him close to Neytiri.

Neteyam was jealous.

No. He wasn’t gonna admit it.

To see y/n with spider and Lo’ak, yelling wildly, as if the two reckless boys barricaded her in a circle of safety in which she could shed her skin and become her true self.

Why couldn’t she have that with neteyam?

Neteyam thought of himself as a nice person.

Neteyam had a fascination with Y/n.

Often found himself trying to climb over the barrier she had built around herself.

Jake called it a ‘puppy crush’.

What’s a puppy?

Neteyam didn’t know. Nor did he care, really.

At age 8, Neteyam was the kindest soul you’ll ever meet.

Kind, gentle, beloved by all of his friends in the village.

And trust me; teyam had lots.

Quite the popular kid.

There was a time where Neteyam was following his father, bow in hand, his steps unfaltering in speed, skipping over rocks as he trailed behind Jake, whom walked with his head high, ready to take his eldest fishing.

“Alright, bud. Gotta make this one quick. I promised your mom I’d get you home before sundown.”

“Okay dad…”

Neteyam’s words trailed off as he found his steps lacking perfect pace behind the taller na’vi.

A bit beside him, a na’vi girl came into view, quietly poking and picking at the flowers with a steadied gaze.

Stomped on, withered tswakesyul under the fingertips, it only took him a second to realize it was Y/n.

Neteyam’s feet moved before his mind could.

“Y/n?”

She squeaked at the sound of his voice; her eyes widening a bit; and she stared like a deer in headlights.

“Hi teyam.”

Her voice is quiet, a fragile thing.

“Whatcha doing? Is that a flower? It’s pretty. Tswakesyul are mama’s favorites-“

Neteyam pauses mid sentence as he sees Y/n struggle to answer his overwhelming questions.

Her mouth opens and closes, but no words form a grand execution.

Choppy breaths, stuttered scentences.

Neteyam sits patiently, awaiting her voice to flood his ears.

Neteyam was a kind child. Patient like his mother, growing into a noble warrior with dreams of ikran wings and victorious wind races, running through lightning and chasing rainclouds.

To execute these wild fantasies?

He couldn’t.

It was like a wall he couldn’t climb.

Even at 8 years of age.

To give in, to fall off the edge, it was like a rope constantly pulled him back to safety. To familiarity and warm scents, to comfort and warm touches from dying fire pits, in a way he envied Lo’ak, who ran through wildfires like it’s his life mission.

No cozy fires for him.

Neteyam never saw y/n as a fragile thing.

Not a thing to be studied or observed.

And yet, the girl whom showed a rare generosity towards something as fragile as a flower….

It enraptured his heart.

Neteyam, once 8, is now 19.

Muscles rippling, stance widening, strength conquering.

He was everything.

He was a hunter, stealthy, silent, graceful, like his mother.

He was a warrior, proud, confident, intelligent like his father.

Expectations were heavy things. Tying him down like weights to a shoulder.

Growing as the future chief, the son of Toruk Makto. Neteyam found himself stuck under an un-surrendering shadow.

Neteyam was sunlight. A tyrant of honor, violent with color, sun-streaked glowing flaxen running through his veins. Reminisce in his laugh, it’s bright enough to challenge the sun and the sky.

Haunted by the atonement of loneliness, with the unburdened carefree childhood withering away with each year.

The vexatious luminescent deity we claim to be sunlight, provides no sanctuary to a shadow.

He was the dawn that climbed the mountains slowly at first light, he was the sunsets that bleed through the sky, a lingering shield that protected the lands from the thousand eyes that would soon litter the dark sky, withering into a thin strip of horizon.

Neteyam never stood where he couldn’t see.

The sun that became mere background noise, a shadow of a looming ruler who no longer throned once night fell.

Watching the moon glow, constantly providing, but never falling off the edge.

With the vengeful thief we call time, Y/n grew into an 18 year old.

Y/n Is a shadow. Dwelling under dim fires, glowing under the moonlight. Sometimes Neteyam thought the universe could fall apart in her hands, and she’d whisper to it like one of her flowers.

A kaleidoscope of perfect curves and colors, sunlit eyes and gentle hands.

Y/n yearned for darkness.

The quiet of the night, the whispers of stardust, the heartbeat of the moon.

where she can touch the consolation within isolation. It is not loneliness she desires, but fixations on the introspection of her affection.

Where she can unravel stories in the leaves, the trees, the earth, the petals of a tsawkesyul.

Neteyam fantasies sporadically.

Dreaming is a dangerous thing.

Is it wrong?

That he yearned for her like she yearned for her flowers?

Had dreams of kissing her neck, dragging his nose along her pulsepoint

feeling the curve of her hips beneath his palms?

Feeling her breath, her heartbeat.

To thread his fingers through her braids. To love her. To kiss her from teh perfectly curved cupids bow and down, worshiping her every breath.

Oh Eywa. Let him pretend.

Let him pretend like the day he stood behind his mother’s leg, watching Y/n and his brother. Pretending it was him, pretending he was with her then.

Pretending he was with her now.

Pretending he was hers. Hers to ruin, hers to kiss, to gently drag her fingertips over.

He longs for her laughter. To chase one another while the sun burns out, the sky submerging into a sunset violent and rebellious with color. The last salvageable stretches of sunlight flirting with her eyes, she serenades him with the aubade of her laughter. Proclamations, promises, and monuments fade behind him.

Those unscathed hands cradling her stories. Her flowers. Her sun

He wants to be her sun.

Trust me.

Trust me please.

Look at me.

Can’t you see me?

Neteyam wants to scream it.

Trust me to treat you like one of your flowers.

Neteyam was sunlight.

Y/n was a shadow.

Can we be an eclipse?

⋆｡˚꩜⋆☼.⋆｡𖦹 °.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆｡°✩｡⋆☾☼⋆｡˚꩜⋆☼.⋆｡𖦹 °.𖥔 ݁ ˖☾𖤓.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆｡°✩｡⋆

First request finished! this will become a mini series. I’m thinking 3 or 2 parts? The next parts will be WAY less fancy and extra I promise. This was just kinda a build up to Neteyam and Y/n’s blossoming romance. im actually so excited for this work and I had so much fun writing it. writing it was kinda a blur, yk? like I just sat down and thought “shy reader? Okay-“ And then I started typing and I couldn’t stop 😭

taglist꩜⋆☼

@neteyamsoare

luv you bby hope you enjoyed 💙

#avatar the way of water #jake avatar #neteyam x reader #kiri sully #neytiri #avatar fanfiction #neteyam #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully

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cl6udias · 1 month

Text

AIN’T NOBODY’S BUSINESS P.2

summary: charlie bushnell and reader have a secret relationship that isn’t exactly secret anymore…

warnings: fem reader, fluff, a few curse words, haters hating, possibly bad writing, as always if i forgot any let me know

therealbambi: art is so therapeutic when the world is so chaotic

comments:

diorgoodjohn: WHEN SHES A ARTIST>>>>

user36: not dior simping over y/n

charliebushnellupdates: STOP USUALLY CHARLIES ALREADY IN HER COMMENTS WTF DID YALL DO😔 IF THE RUMORS RUINED THEM ILL RIOT

y/nupdates: your to real

charliebushnellupdates: y/n and charlie update accs unite 🙏

user99: girl y/n basically confirmed the rumors we ain’t ruining anything

leahsavajeffries: I NEED TO SEE THESES IN PERSON

therealbambi: SOON I PROMISE IM TRYING TO FINISH UP A FEW THAN ILL SHOW YOU

user1989: why is no one talking about the photos of y/n and maybe charlie????

y/niswifey: FRR I WAS LOOKING THRU THE COMMENTS AND NO ONE IS AND I WAS CONFUSED

user1989: FR LIKE HUH IM IN SHOCK LIKE WHAT IF MY BF AND MY GF ARE DATING?!?

haterngl: i hope not💀

user1989: GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOBODY CARES WHAT YOU THINK

celebupdatess: y/n l/n and charlie bushnell seen at a art event together tonight

comments:

charliebushnellupdates: STOPP HIM HOLDING HER STOP😔 I LOVE THEM EVEN

y/nupdates: CAN THEY ADOPT ME?!? LIKE ILL DO ANYTHING

user69: them just messing around and playing knowing they have paparazzi taking there photos is everything

user99: no because y/n has always been like this with the paparazzi she dont care and i love her for it

hater156: keep him away from y/n please and thank you

haterngl: no keep her away from charlie

user1989: BOTH OF YOU GO AWAY NOBODY GIVES A FUCK WHAT EITHER OF YOU THINK

user13: how long do yall think it will take for one of them to confirm the rumors

user03: is it even technically a rumor atp

user13: nahh but i want one of them to say something

now playing: nobodys business by rihanna

iamcharliebushnell: and it ain’t nobody’s what?!?

comments:

*the comment section has been limited*

therealbambi: AND IT AIN’T NOBODY’S BUSINESS !!

diorgoodjohn: FINALLYYY

iamcharliebushnell: i knew you were waiting for this

leahsavajeffries: yall are so cute💗

therealbambi: thank you leah🩷

walkerscobell: LMAO wait yall are dating

leahsavajeffries: walker…you knew this

TAG LIST:

@alexandria-millie (ask me if you want to be tagged in my charlie/luke works)

AUTHORS NOTE: i made this while helping my mom make dinner and now im posting it while eating some tamales 🙏 ALSO CAMILA AND SHAWN PAPARAZZI PHOTOS HAVE BEEN LIFE SAVERS WHEN I COMES TO COUPLE PAPARAZZI PHOTOS

#Spotify #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell smut #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #percy jackson #charlie bushnell x reader

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homunculus-argument · 9 months

Text

I found a collection of clipped images of vintage ads, and let me tell you these are hilarious with no context.

Dude on the left doesn't give a shit about what you think of him. "Whatever, I'm still going to drink my coffee with my breakfast ass-pastries." Dude on the right is offended. "Really? Right in front of my heroin?"

All your mental health troubles can be cured by having a talk with the drunk girl sitting on the floor of a dive bar bathroom. Like the modern oracle, she dispels wisdom.

Do not cut off your nose to spite your face! Let us do it for you! Experience the highest end quality of plastic surgery that the 1930s technology can offer! If the war didn't blow your nose off, we can make it look like it sure did!

Are you too refined, sophisticated and dapper? Would you rather have the rough and manly, beastly airs of the salt trade sailor you sucked off behind the town market three days ago while he called you his pretty little slut? Our doctors can help you.

This is also a good way to get not only your nose, but your entire face professionally fucked up.

Trust me bro this is a different strain. It won't happen again this time bro trust me I swear.

Dude if she gives you that look you better zip it back up before she figures out how to politely tell you how disappointed she is. She came here for the thrill of her life and that's not it.

Nevermind, she was too polite to break it to you.

Live footage of the last coherent thought escaping my brain when my meds wear off.

Have you lived your entire life woefully lacking of dandruff? Fear not, for relief is here! Finally, you can have the same alluring scalp snow as the heinous bitch your husband left you for.

FALSE! I literally never shut the fuck up.

The money-eating giraffe will fuck you. That is a promise.

Successfully fucked by the giraffe, evidently.

Another satisfied customer. He won't even mind that the beast ate all his money.

This poor guy just missed the giraffe. By a thread. He was out of town already when this poor man got the news. His entire year is ruined.

Do you crave the chaotic rush of a manic outburst, but do not have the inherent mechanisms of naturally mania-inducing mental illness? Try AMPHETAMINE! You will be full of ideas, and know for sure what you're going to be doing for the next three months! Disclaimer: The ideas you will have on amphetamine are not guaranteed to be good ideas. And you're probably spending the next three months in jail.

You know you're sick you dirty little bowlcut slut.

"Fuck. This. Shit."

This one came in-built with a weirder fucking caption than I could come up with. Nothing can top this. Not even the giraffe.

#long post

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angelofthenight · 4 months

Text

Kenchanted Pt.1

(Ken x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Lost in the chaotic and gritty human world, you come to Ken’s rescue. He’s determined to find his one true love who is also lost in the human world, Barbie, and despite your cynical and pessimistic view of “true love”, you help. You and Ken’s views of life and love are constantly clashing and arguments constantly follow. Yet the more time you spend together, you both begin to fall in love with the epitome of everything you once disagreed with. But you are both promised to others and you are from two different worlds, pink and grey.

Warnings: Swearing, V brief harassment (nothing intense), YN thinks Ken is mentally ill/disturbed, Mentions of police

( Super special thanks for my pookie mutual @detectiveapparatiagreen for proofreading for triggers💖 )

Word Count: 3.5k

Tropes Used: Grumpy x Sunshine, She fell first/He fell harder, Slow burn, Unexpected/Unintentional pining, Fantasy vs Reality

( This is based off the Disney movie Enchanted so it’s kinda like an AU, with a touch of Warm Bodies and Aquamarine. Also I named YN’s boyfriend after Oppenheimer in honor of Barbenheimer but I just realized that a Robert is in Enchanted too😭. Also this is steering off a bit from canon in the Barbie movie to cater more to Enchanted’s storyline so Ken doesn’t become a typical man/antagonist.

And lastly YN is basically Ken’s opposite personality-wise and clothing color palette-wise, I typically always have all my YN’s fashion style ambiguous in my stories unless it’s a direct effect to the story so that’s why I’m just forewarning )

Table of Contents

(R/n) = Roommates name

“God, learn to have a little fun, bitch!”

You flipped out your middle finger over your shoulder as you walked away without looking back at the man near the bar. Despite your platant rejections and constant explanations that you were about to leave the club, the man that approached you with sexual intentions still ran his mouth on how you should let him buy you a drink. You endlessly declined and when he began to grow impatient and rude that’s when you told him off and marched off to find your roommate, (R/n), in the crowd who had gone to retrieve your coats.

The music thrusted into your eardrums and rumbled your brain so intensely you wondered if you’d be able to get away with calling off work the next morning. You leaned against a wall to take off your heels, leaving your feet in just your pantyhose as (R/n) reunited with you holding both hers and your own jacket in her arms. She laid your jacket over your shoulders and you instantly huddled it around your short dress to prepare to step into the breezy, rainy night.

“Of course the night we finally have the energy to go clubbing is the night we have work in the early morning.” (R/n) chuckled into your ear as the two of you left through the doors in giggles. Once out into the storming outdoors, (R/n) and you stood by a wall under some shade as she began to order an uber through her phone to get you guys back home. You yawned as you people watched while you waited for her to order, letting your eyes wander and linger on the LA characters that either rushed past you with jackets over their head or walking with umbrellas.

Some you could assume were clubbing like you, some ran to catch cabs, some looked to be just getting out of work. Each person that crossed your line of vision were all different and unique… but there was one specific individual that made you do a double-take: the bleach blond man wearing rollerblades and blindingly bright neon that stood out in the dark night.

He was sitting on the curb of the sidewalk getting drenched by the rain with his head in his hands, seemingly sobbing dramatically. You frowned in concern and curiosity. You faintly nudged your friend. “Is that guy okay?” Your friend looked up at you with confusion until she looked over to where your eyes were locked. She wasn’t as worried as you and simply brushed him off. “Huh? Oh… Just leave him to it.”

That offered no apathy to cease your attention on the bold man. You just couldn’t brush him off no matter how hard you tried, it was like you were feeling this magnetic pull towards him. “I’m just gonna go check on him.” You told your friend as you stepped into the thundering storm with your hand acting as a shield above your eyes to prevent rain hitting them, and began walking towards the perfectly tanned stranger.

You stopped once you were right next to him, the cold droplets of water quickly dampening your styled hair. ��Hey. Are you alright?” You said, loud enough for him to hear you over the rain.

The bleach blond thrashed his face out of his hands to look up at you with tears endlessly flooding out of his blue eyes and his lips trembling. “No! I am not alright!” He loudly wailed out. “Barbie got arrested! And they wouldn’t take me with her! I tried to follow them but then I got lost in this humongous place! But while I was wandering I discovered that men on horses rule this world and at first that seemed so awesome but I still couldn’t even do anything because I need a bunch of papers to do stuff! And even though I am a man, people are still not being very nice to me!”

He already lost you a while ago with his fast yet confusing words which prompted you to stare blankly, but his last complaint resonated with you enough to erupt a chuckle from you. “Yeah, well, welcome to LA.”

The man halted his dramatic crying to stare at you with his watering eyes lighting up. “Thank you.” He breathed out with a sniffle and a grateful tone of voice. Your smile twitched down and your brows furrowed at him.

“And I lost my visor cap! And now I am leaking from my eyes!” He suddenly exclaimed as he touched his wet cheeks. “But the worst part of it all is…” he reached up to grip onto his soaking wet blond locks, “my hair is WET! Why is the sky sprinkling water and making my hair flat and squishy?!” He yelled and physically jumped and yelped like a child when lightning cracked in the sky.

You didn’t mean to just stare blankly stare at him with your mouth slightly open and your eyebrows slightly furrowed, but you just didn’t know how to react to how this man, who you were now assuming wasn’t right in the head, was acting. “You mean the rain?” You finally asked with multiple confused blinks.

The man harshly sniffled again. “Well, I HATE the rain!” He yelled while glaring up at the sky like he now had a vengeful grudge against it.

You kneeled down next to him to be at eye-level. “Do you have your phone with you? Or any money?” The man wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “I’ve never owned a phone.” He looked back over to you, the rain dripping down his face washing his tears away. “And what would I need money for?”

You blinked, dumbfounded in its rawest form. You just stared at him again with a complete loss for words at his question. You looked him up and down, taking in every neon detail on his skater outfit. You probably looked like you were seeing an alien for the first time. “…Do you need me to call somebody for you?”

He vaguely chuckled with a small smile as he looked at you like you were the weird one. “I don't think they'd hear you from here.” Again, your jaw went slack at your loss for words; intense confusion baffling you. “What?”

You glanced around, trying to find some sort of camera crew. Your eyes returned to the blond man who cradled his knees to his chest and reached up to touch his wet hair. He was pouting and wearing the saddest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen on a grown man. You needed to help this poor, troubled guy.

“What’s your name?” He took his hand out of his hair and released his knees, letting his legs fall straight as he looked at his neon strain roller blades. “Ken.” “No, like, what’s your full name?” You added. He tore his eyes off his feet to look back at you. “Kenneth or And Ken.”

You forced an awkward laugh and smile as you tried to hide how you were beginning to lose your patience. “No, what’s your last name?” Ken gave you another weird look. “How many names do you people have?”

Your frown began to deepen as your annoyance began to grow visible in your features. “…So it’s just Ken?” You asked, a slight snap to your voice. “Well it’s usually Barbie and Ken.” Ken explained with a pep to his own voice. Your brows crinkled, “You keep mentioning Barbie. Like the doll? Are you named after Barbie’s boyfriend Ken or something?”

Ken shook his head with a toothy smile. “No, I am Ken.”

‘This guy must have escaped from the ward.’ You mentally noted. “Where exactly are you from, Ken?” You asked, hoping to get a solid enough answer to help you navigate where he needs to get to.

“Barbieland.” Ken answered without hesitation, leaving you once again baffled. A loud thunderclap snapped you back into your senses as the rain began to pick up. You looked over your shoulder at (R/n) who pointed at her phone, trying to tell you the uber was about to pull up. You looked back to Ken who returned to sadly staring at his rollerblades and clutching his sopping wet hair.

You pursed your lips together, deep in debating thought, until you let out a groaning sigh. You rose to your feet and draped your jacket over Ken’s head and shoulders. He looked up at you with surprise and opened his mouth to say something but you strictly cut him off. “Stay right here, I’ll be right back.” You instructed him before rushing over to your dry friend.

“Okay, so Boris will be picking us up in a gray Toyota and I’ll just request what you owe me on Paypal-” “I think we should take him with us.” You cut (R/n) off as she watched the tracking map on Uber, her eyes snapping up towards you. She glanced over at Ken getting pretty comfortable in your jacket on the sidewalk curb before looking back at you with an eyebrow raise.

“(Y/n), what?” Now she was the baffled one looking at an alien over how out-of-character your request was. However, a smirk stretched across her lips. “Usually I’m the one wanting to bring home strange men at night.” You rolled your eyes and gave her a glare. “It’s not like that.” You glimpsed over your shoulder at Ken.

“That guy is the farthest thing from my type as you can get.”

You turned back to (R/n). “And you know I would never do that to Rob.”

(R/n) visibly cringed and shut her eyes, holding her hand up to stop you. “Ew, I’ve told you before I don’t like to hear that guys name on girls night.” You slapped her hand out of your face. “We’re not gonna have this argument again right now.” You grumbled, knowing how passionate (R/n) was about verbalizing her distaste for your boyfriend Rob. She shook her head. “We’re not because you didn’t say his name.”

You sighed, dismissing that whole rift in the conversation. “I just can’t leave him like this. He’s lost and confused and will get sick in this rain.” You explained to your roommate who didn’t seem to even mind. “As long as I don’t have to give up my room or share my morning waffles and we lock our bedrooms. And if he ends up being a thief or murderer or rap-” You cut her off.

“He’s not staying the night. I just wanna get him out of the rain and send him back to whatever mental institution he came from. He is not staying the night.” You stated with a stern expression. He’d be out of your apartment quicker than he got there. It’s not that you didn’t have room for a guest, other than prioritizing you and your friends safety, you just didn’t want to take care of this crazy man any more than you had to.

After (R/n) told you you’d be taking the heavier load on the overall cost, you hurried back over to Ken who was still wrapped up comfortably in your jacket. You planted your hand softly on his shoulder, grabbing his attention rather quickly. “Come on, Ken. You can get dry at my place and we’ll try and get you home.”

Ken’s face lit up like a Christmas tree and tried to stumble up to his feet due to his rollerblades before you grabbed his muscular arm to help him up safely. You pushed away the observation of how tall he actually was when he stood up to focus more on wheeling him over to the Uber (R/n) was waving you over to.

Ken skated circles around you and (R/n) as you walked down the hallway of your apartment building as he talked your ear off. “-and then we had to ride a snowmobile through the snow, which was very cold and not good for my hair. And then that’s when we rollerbladed into Venice Beach. Barbie did not like your world by the way, like within the first second we got there her mood instantly bummed out. And then-”

As soon as you got him seated in the car, he instantly began telling you how he got to that sidewalk curb that somehow involved his whole life story. You tuned him out about halfway through, you just couldn’t comprehend what he was telling you; Barbieland, Barbie, disco parties, Kens, Barbies, beaching, Mattel, a portal, Barbie’s flat feet, horses.

It was crazy to you. His story, his words, his personality, his clothes, quite literally everything about him. You nearly began to regret picking up just another LA nutjob on the street.

“-and now I’m here with you tired looking ladies in this kinda ugly, gloomy building. They should paint these walls a brighter color. Like pink! Or blue!” Ken joyfully said with his wide smile never faltering as he continued to skate down the halls. His upbeat energy was beginning to sicken you.

He started to skate backwards to continue talking into your annoyed face. “But don’t worry, I'm positive that Barbie is already out of jail and looking for me. No doubt by morning she'll come and pick me up and we’ll go home and the two of us will finally kiss under the stars.”

A snigger finally cracked out of you. “Right.” From the snippets of his story you paid attention to, it didn’t sound like this Barbie girl he kept talking about was all that interested in him. You wanted to press on about that but knew you’d just be met with blind stupidity.

(R/n) seemed to be having the opposite reactions and opinions from you as all she did was humor his story and laugh at his jokes. What was entertaining for her was agitating for you. “Well all I can do for you is let you in for a minute so you can dry off.” You asserted as you neared your apartment door.

“Thank you!” Ken chirped out, still clinging to your jacket that was still wrapped around him. “So if she’s (R/n), what’s your name? You never gave me it.” You told him your name and he repeated it out loud, testing it in different voice tones which annoyed you even more. ‘I just need to last another hour or two and then he’s out of my life and out of my sight’ you kept telling yourself to keep your composure.

You finally reached your front door and began to fish out your keys from your purse. You rustled through your stuff and held back your exhausted groan, digging through to find them. Ken’s vibrant neon color palette still blinded your peripheral vision. You fleetingly glanced over to him, “What is it with this outfit of yours anyways?”

Ken looked down at his clothes with a confident smile and placed his hands on his hips. “You like it?” Your brows furrowed together. “No, it's just… I thought you said you didn’t have any money.” “I don’t. Clothes just come to me.” Ken said simply as you finally found your keys.

“Like people give you clothes or you design them?” (R/n) questioned. “No, clothes literally just come to me.” Ken stated with that bright grin still intact with his lips.

You stared at him with that ‘are you serious’ expression. “Why don't we see about getting you a car.” You quickly said before you unlocked your front door.

(R/n) approached you in a fit of giggles while you sat at your dining room table scanning over a map for places to drop Ken off. She grasped onto your tense shoulders as she tried to regain a steady breath after her stomach-hurting laughter from something Ken had previously told her.

“C’mon, (Y/n). Can’t he sleep here tonight?” She asked you with a pleading smile. You didn’t spare her a glance and shook your head like a strict mother, your eyes still remaining on the map. “No way.”

(R/n) sighed in disappointment and was about to go back over to the couch where Ken was sitting all wrapped up in towels until she caught the sight of him leaning all the way back into the couch. His eyes blissfully closed and his mouth open enough for a vague snore.

“Um, (Y/n). He looks really tired.” She whispered down to you. Your eyes shot up to see the couch from where you were sitting to witness Ken already fast asleep. “What? Oh, no. That's not acceptable.” You stood up, the intention of physically hurling him off your couch flaring your imagination.

“Are you really gonna make him go?” (R/n) asked sadly with a pout. You turned to her with a glare. Of course you had to be the only sensible one, taking on responsibility. Sometimes you felt like the only adult in a world full of children, the only one with a stable head on their shoulders. “Just go to bed. I’ll handle this.” You asserted.

(R/n) delicately grabbed your arm before you could march over to him. “He’s so funny though, and he seems pretty harmless.” You sighed and turned to her with a softer tone in your expression and eyes. “(R/n), he is a seriously confused and troubled man who's fallen into our laps. All I want to do is get him home.” You explained as plainly as you could.

“So he’s not gonna stay?” (R/n) asked again but put on a brighter smile to try to convince you. “No.” You harshly deadpanned. “Now go to bed.” She huffed but turned on her heels anyway in pursuit of her room.

Once you heard the closing of her door, you made your way over to the snoozing psychopath. With your hands on your hips, you glared down at him as if trying to telepathically make him wake up. You reached down to his arm, about to violently shake him awake, but your fingers halted and hovered over his toned bicep.

You glanced up to his face as you were frozen, mindlessly taking the time to get a proper look at his face for the first time. You nearly couldn’t mentally deny that when he wasn’t rabidly sobbing or babbling his mouth off, he was actually very beautiful. The most beautiful guy you’ve ever actually seen, almost like he was fake. He was too physically perfect.

You snapped yourself out of your admiring daze, almost not believing you got distracted with physical attraction. You deepened your frown and finally pushed your hand against his arm, a weak attempt to wake Mr Sleeping Beauty. You pushed one more time to find he was still fast asleep. You gruffly sighed and pulled out your phone, clicking into the Uber app.

You were just going to send him to the nearest police station, he’ll be the cops’ problem now and Ken can tell them all about his Barbie life. However, before you could hit the final button to get the car your eyes glanced up to Ken once more. Except this time you couldn’t look away as he subconsciously snuggled in the towels wrapped around him.

‘Just push the damn button and get him out of here’ is what you kept yelling at yourself. So why couldn’t you do it? Of course right when it came down to it, you felt yourself going soft for this lunatic… with very blue eyes and an innocent kind of sweet smile. Despite his prettiness and despite his aggravating immaturity, you still felt this gravitational pull towards this strange man.

You sighed and turned off your phone, ruthlessly cursing yourself at your failure to get rid of him. You just couldn’t bring yourself to kick him out, something you knew you were going to regret when he woke up and began talking non-stop again. Still, you found yourself gently laying him properly down across the couch on the pillow and replacing the damp towels with a blanket.

You denied your own small smile at his sleeping form as you left for your bedroom. You hadn’t thought about Barbie dolls in a very long time, but all of his Barbie talk made you sit in your bed in silence for a few minutes. You wished you still had your Barbie dolls with you instead of them sitting in a box in your parents basement. You just wanted to at least look at your favorite childhood toy.

Not your Ken doll though.

You buried him three feet underground in your backyard when playing funeral with your Barbie dolls and forgot he was still down there.

#reader insert #ken x reader #ken #Ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #Barbie #Barbie 2023 #the Barbie movie #Barbie movie #greta gerwig #greta gerwig barbie #enchanted #ken Carson #Ken Carson x reader #kenergy #I’m just Ken #enchanted movie #fluff #disney enchanted

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blessedwithabadomen · 15 days

Text

in love with the mess - day eleven

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : smut (p in v, fingering dirty talk), angst, fluff

length : 6k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @blacksoul-27 @somebodyels3 @kageyasma @spikeisdaddy @broken0mens

a/n : Enjoy!! Leave a comment if you do hehe 💕

•••

day eleven

What on earth was one supposed to do when everything they’d ever craved, ever needed without quite knowing that they’d needed it at all, suddenly seemed to appear right at their fingertips while knowing that every move toward it would only make it recede further?

Waking up in an empty bed had flooded my brain with loneliness, feelings of rejection, a cold seeping into my bones, just for a moment, completely automatically, but then the rest of my senses loaded in and as soon as my hearing permitted me to realise I was far from alone in the apartment, my whole body relaxed again. A chaotic mixture of shouting and uninhibited laughter filtered through the open door, interrupted by the tell-tale noises of pots and pans and everything else Oli’s kitchen had to offer. Then, slowly but surely, the scent of coffee reached my nostrils. I inhaled it deeply, turning onto my back and snuggling into the blankets for another minute.

How cruel was the world to gift me this moment? I wanted to sink into the bliss this morning provided. The domesticity. The soft wake-up, the realisation that Oli and Noah were preparing breakfast, the gentle lull of the bed that promised a future that could look exactly like this.

Could it? The pull at my heart stung more painfully than ever. The clarity that all I wanted seemed so close and yet unattainable hit me harder than before. I didn’t want to assume that either Oli or Noah were doing it with any ill intent, but the way they kept dangling this possibility in front of my face hurt all the same. What would it take to get this for real? Every morning of my life? My whole body seemed to ache with the love I had for them.

I was on the verge of giving up. Not giving up either of them or this thing we had going on. Giving up on being quiet. Giving up on hiding my feelings, lying about what my heart was screaming for, making myself and my needs smaller than they were. Maybe then, we would stand a chance. Maybe if I was being honest with them, they could be honest with me too. If only there was any sort of knowledge that their truth would bear the same content as mine.

Five more days of this tour. Five more days until we would, in some capacity, have to part ways. Oli was going back home to finish the album. Noah was heading on another tour. I was… well, packing up my things and trying to find a place to stay. How much longer would I manage to keep my mouth shut? I didn’t just want to blurt out a confession of love, hit them out of nowhere, possibly scare them away with my intensity. But I would have to speak up, sooner or later. Before the tour was over. I couldn’t leave without letting them know, even if it meant the end of things. Even if it changed my relationship with Oli irredeemably. Even if it meant never having Noah again. I’d simply have to find the right moment.

Or rather, moments. I wasn’t sure if telling both of them at the same time would be wise. They were two individual people that each deserved my undivided attention. As much as my heart was beating for both of them, it would be wrong to pretend it had the same quality with both. I’d known Oli for years, a crush that had been steadily growing, going dormant and growing again. Noah had only appeared on the scene recently, even if he’d caught my heart with no difficulties at all. But it was different. Every love was. Their own, the one between them, was too.

A loud clatter pulled me out of my thoughts. It was followed by a beat of silence and then rambunctious laughter. The smile on my face appeared involuntarily at the sound. Rolling myself out of the sheets, I quickly looked for something to put on, remembering I only had my dress from last night. Pulling a few drawers open, I located an oversized sweatshirt in Oli’s closet that I allowed myself to put on along with a pair of clean boxershorts. My underwear from last night was too sticky to even consider it.

The kitchen was a mess when I entered. It seemed like the two of them had made it their mission to open every single cupboard and then proceeded to place every single item in there somewhere completely different. In between, some cooking that wanted to be an English breakfast had happened. Still, as soon as I was spotted, shuffling toward them on bare feet, Oli made quick work of fixing a plate for me with whatever hadn’t gotten burned or landed on the ground in their mayhem.

“I promise, I actually know how to cook,” Noah whispered in my ear as he hugged me good morning, his hands moving upwards on my thighs until they disappeared under Oli’s shirt. “Not so sure about him though.”

We both turned to watch Oli plate some more stuff for Noah and himself, some of it looking suspiciously black, but he was obviously trying so hard to make it a good breakfast meal that my heart couldn’t help but flutter at the sight.

It was perfect. Too perfect.

•••

The morning was filled with half-edible food, giggles over the breakfast table and slow, lazy kisses on the couch as we took turns showering. Oli ended up lending Noah and me some clothes that definitely looked more ridiculous on me than it ever did on those two men, but it was still better than trying to make do with last night’s outfits again. It still very much felt like a walk of shame when the cab driver all but dropped us back off at the hotel. I almost asked if Oli would mind us grabbing our suitcases and going right back to his place to stay there for another night until we had to get going to London. But I didn’t.

Noah and I had planned to make a quick dash to our respective rooms to change into clothes that actually belonged in our closets while Oli would make his way to the venue, but the plan was foiled when we realised that the rest of Bad Omens were gathered in the hotel lobby, chatting and… well, probably waiting for Noah before heading to the arena together. Unfortunately, that also meant that the three of us were the topic of conversation as soon as we got spotted.

Folio saw us first, his eyes moving back and forth between us, then up and down our bodies as he seemed to realise what we were wearing. He gave a low wolf whistle that briefly caught the attention of every uninvolved person in the lobby, but he didn’t mind at all as he approached us with a big smile on his face.

“Noah! We’d been wondering where you were. You could have told us you were spending the night with your boyfriend and your girlfriend!”

In an instant, Noah’s face had taken on a blush like no other. He dropped my hand as if caught in some sort of compromising situation, his eyes darting everywhere but me or Oli.

“Very funny, Folio,” he mumbled, but there was no humour in his voice.

“Come one, you all look like you’ve had a very good night,” the drummer continued, harshly slapping Noah’s shoulder in what I assumed was supposed to be a friendly, if teasing, gesture. “No need to be shy about it.”

But Noah wasn’t shy about it. Not exactly. Noah was… somewhere between embarrassed and terrified. At least that was what he looked like. The shuffling of his feet, the way he played with the hem of the shirt and then suddenly let go as if stung by the realisation it was Oli’s, the restless energy. Even Folio backed off suddenly.

“I need to change,” Noah announced and before anyone had the chance to stop him or even say a single word, he had set off towards the lifts. He needed to change. He didn’t say he was going to. He needed to. It set off all the alarm bells in my head. I couldn’t let this whole situation run off its course again, whatever the course was. But I also knew better than to push Noah into what would only result in him withdrawing and refusing to talk altogether.

“We should talk to him,” Oli piped up next to me.

“We should. But not now. Bryan needs you for pictures and then you’ve got soundcheck. I’ll meet you at the arena, yeah?”

Oli nodded, not quite convinced, but knowing that his schedule called for him. We’d already taken the whole morning off, it was time to get back to work. I moved to quickly press my lips to his cheek before heading to my room as well, but he stopped me, hand on my neck, leading me exactly where he wanted me.

And then, in public, and in front of everyone still watching us, Oli Sykes kissed me.

•••

“Aubrey! Just the person I was hoping to see!”

I stopped dead in my tracks at Becky’s voice. I’d successfully maneouvered Oli from soundcheck back to his dressing room where he’d have a bite to eat in preparation for the show when I decided to see what sort of mood Noah would be in. If it was time to talk to him yet. As much as he preferred to battle his demons alone some times, there was a point where he would simply end up overthinking and, at worst, grabbing some bottles again, and I wanted to stop that process by all means necessary.

However, I’d only just made it into the general standing area of the venue when Becky called me over. I shot one more look at Noah on stage, in the middle of his own soundcheck and seemingly miles away in his mind, before walking over to the sound booth.

“So, slight trouble ahead,” she said, kneading her hands awkwardly. “Someone on the team is having a family emergency and he needs to leave after the show. Which means we’re good for tonight, but we’re a pair of hands short in London. I have some contacts for the Dublin show so that won’t be a problem, but no one is available for the next two days on such short notice. I’ve already talked to Oli and Noah and they agreed so I thought I’d ask if you could help out for those gigs?”

My brain was whirling with the amount of information she’d just dropped on me. But it was one particular piece it got stuck on - why had she asked Noah? Oli was a given, considering I was technically his employee and he’d have to do without me if I was gone during soundcheck and the actual show, but Noah didn’t make any sense.

“Noah?” I questioned, more to myself than anything else and Becky interrupted me immediately.

“Will you? Please say yes. It’s important. Really.”

“Sure,” I smiled, even though I felt anything but sure at that moment in time. Still, she needed help and if I could be of any use, it would be ridiculous to decline.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, reaching over the barrier to pull me into a hug. “You won’t regret it!”

I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean either.

•••

Noah vanished right after soundcheck, which seemed to be a special talent of his. All of his usual hiding spots came up empty and if he’d left the venue in some capacity, there was no way I’d be able to track him. Trying the dressing room one more time, I opened the door, just a small gap, to peek inside, but the only person present at all was Nicholas.

To my surprise, he waved me in. I followed the invitation gratefully - not only was I out of ideas on where to find Noah before the show, I also didn't have anything else on my schedule for the day. Plus, I'd not really had the time to hang out with anyone apart from Oli and Noah lately.

A beer was thrust in my general direction as soon as I sat down on the other end of the couch. It wasn't my favourite, but I took it anyway.

“So, Aubrey, how are you doing today?”

I stared at Nicholas with the most suspicious look I could muster. “Nick, in the ten days we've been in this tour together, we've not once made silly small talk.”

He chuckled, a little nervously, a little caught out, but he looked so sweet that I couldn't even pretend to be mad. “Yeah, I don’t know why I said that.”

The silence settled between us for a moment, but I didn’t mind. I figured he’d called me in here for a reason, and I’d give him as much time as he wanted to needed to figure our what to say.

“Would you mind if we stole Noah away for the night?”

“What? I mean, of course. He’s your friend, you don’t need my permission to hang out with him.”

I had been hoping to spend the night with both him and Oli again. Go pack to his place. Maybe have a quiet night in before the four-hour drive to London tomorrow. Get some takeaway. Stare out of Oli’s windows to watch the city as it fell asleep and woke back up. But with Noah making an abrupt exit this morning at the hotel and being basically untraceable ever since, my hopes had been dwindling anyway.

“‘Course, ‘course,” Nicky mumbled, briefly looking up at me with a smile. “I’m not complaining about you spending time with him, by the way. But we…” He looked contemplative, as if trying to decide how much to tell me. “We sat down together, Folio, Jolly and I, for lunch today and we decided we need to talk to him. Because, well, he seems very happy to hang out with you and Oli but then it takes one comment from Folio and he just closes off completely.”

I’d seen it first-hand, more than once. They were right to be concerned, too. With all the fun we were having among the three of us, reality kept punching Noah in the gut relentlessly. I still wasn’t entirely sure what sort of demons he was battling, but they were weighing heavily on his mind and impacting his moods. The other three were probably both worried about his ability to perform as their frontman and how he was coping as their friend. And as much as Oli and I needed to talk to him, sooner or later, maybe what he needed right now was the people he’d known for years.

“I know,” I sighed in response. “He switches from extremely carefree to withdrawn and pissed off in a split second sometimes. An evening with the guys will probably do him good. If… I don’t know if it’s appropriate, but if he says anything, you know… I don’t know, that would be helpful to know… I know you don’t know me very well but I genuinely just want what’s best for him and I’m at a complete loss sometimes.”

Nicky’s hand on my shoulder was so reassuring, I suddenly felt like I had to bite back tears. “I’ll let you know. Unless we somehow get him to grow some balls and talk to you himself.”

I giggled, pushing away the emotions, leaning slightly into his touch, simply glad to know Noah was surrounded by people who really cared about him and his wellbeing. Even if that included bullying him on the low when he was being a diva about communicating properly. He deserved it, to be honest.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight then? Hope it’s not an intervention because that’ll probably make him run for the hills immediately.”

“No,” Nicky laughed slightly. “We’re just going to call it a guys’ night. Take him out after the show. Have a beer.”

I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrow at him a little bit. Somehow, he caught it immediately. The questioning look on his face compelled me to talk.

“He’s been… drinking. I don’t know if that’s a general pattern with him, but, sometimes, it’s to the point where he doesn’t remember things the next morning.”

Nicholas seemed more somber than he had been the entire conversation. The way something flashed in his eyes, just for a moment, told me enough. Enough to know that this wasn’t exactly the first time he might have gone down that road. And that they were well aware of it, too.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. Promise.”

I nodded, finally getting up from the couch with a heavy sigh, my almost untouched beer still in my hand. “Well. I’m going to need the rundown tomorrow. And if I don’t see you again before you leave, good luck.”

“I might need it.”

•••

Some days, things just tended to go wrong. And while, a lot of the time, I could accept that, be gentle with myself and move on, today was not like that. At all. What had started as a lovely morning with Noah and Oli had quickly spiralled into worries about the former, then feelings of confusion and being slightly overwhelmed at suddenly working with Becky for the next two days. I couldn’t find Noah anywhere, but I’d all but given up on that since the conversation with Nicky. I’d check up on the situation tomorrow, when, hopefully, some things were cleared up. At least in Noah’s head.

But then my AAA pass went missing. It wasn’t a massive problem, excluding the embarrassment of having to let people know that the person who was responsible for keeping Oli in check and organised had managed to misplace what was probably the single most important item on any given tour date. What bothered me much more was the fact that I’d attached my Powerfuff Girls keychain to it, as I’d been doing every day since I’d bought it.

Lee was the one to find me, near tears, picking apart Oli’s dressing room to no success.

“Alright, let’s walk through your day then. You’ve obviously had it when you arrived here or you wouldn’t have gotten in. Where did you go from there?”

I knew he technically didn’t have the time to run this through, but I was simply too distraught to send him away, silently grateful for his help as we re-traced my steps from Oli’s dressing room to the sound desk and catering to all the hallways I could have possibly walked. Additionally, both of us had shot messages into any group chats we were part of, but so far no one had replied with positive news.

“Wait, is that-”

Lee was pointing slightly further ahead in the hallway. I was there in an instant. There, on top of one of the boxes, was, indeed, a backstage pass. Adorned with my name. Only - there was no charm on it.

“But- that doesn’t make sense!” I exclaimed, turning the item over in my hands, then bending down to study the floor around the box. “If I’d lost it, it would surely be on the ground and not up here, right? And if someone picked it up, they could have given it back to me, because my name is on it. And why is the keychain missing? There’s no reason for it to detach!”

Lee shrugged his shoulders, not quite as bewildered as I was, but I figured he also didn’t have as much personal attachment to a keychain. I had the pass back, which should be all that mattered, probably.

“Aubrey! Aubrey, help!”

Oli’s voice echoed through the hallway. He didn’t sound like he was in any imminent danger, but I still set off as soon as I’d reattached the pass, finding him in the middle of his dressing room. He stood in the most awkward, uncomfortable way, his head strangely bent down toward his shoulder. I was about to question it when he turned around, showing me exactly what the dilemma was.

“My hair!”

I didn’t know how he’d done it, but some of his strands were caught up in the rings of his black jacket. I bit back a smile, very unsuccessfully.

“How the fuck did you do that,” I giggled, unable to hold the noise back as soon as I opened my mouth.

“Does it matter? Help me out!”

With laughter still wrecking my chest, I started fumbling with his hair and the accessories on his jacket, trying to be as delicate as possible as he kept making noises of pain even when nothing was actually tugging on his scalp. Drama queen. I finally pulled him free, giving him a soft kiss, before toying with his outfit until it was perfectly in place.

“Thank you, love,” he said, suddenly mellow. His hands were toying with my hair now, mindlessly playing with the strands as he stared at me. I felt as naked and vulnerable under his stare as I felt protected. “Can I invite you over to mine again tonight?”

“You don’t even have to ask. Can we grab my suitcase this time though? I’d rather not do another walk of shame tomorrow morning.”

“Anything you want.”

I almost melted at how soft he was. I wasn’t sure if it was me or the fact that he was in his hometown, playing to more people than ever, knowing that friends and family were watching, but I wallowed in it all the same.

“I don’t think Noah’s coming, though,” I added after a beat of silence and only after I’d managed to tear myself away from the way his eyes were seeing right into my soul. “The guys are taking him out. But we’ll talk to him tomorrow, right?”

“Tomorrow,” Oli agreed, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

•••

The show in Sheffield was nothing short of magical and when Oli came off stage, he was an electrified bundle of energy. He was all over me, pulling me into his arms, completely ignorant of the way his sweaty skin stuck to mine where my top didn’t cover me, swaying me side to side.

“Fuck, I just love playing here,” he mumbled into my hair before pulling away just so much that he could look at me without having to fully let go. “What do you say to going straight home? I really need a shower but I’m so tired of venue bathrooms.”

I ignored the way my heart fluttered at the idea of home being not just his but all of our place to retreat to. I had no idea if he’d meant it like that or not, but suddenly I wished for nothing more than a shared comfort place. With him, and with Noah. Instead of dwelling on it, I sniffed at the fabric of shirt, loudly, just to annoy him.

“Yeah, that’ll just about do, I don’t think the uber driver is gonna kick you out for that smell just yet.”

“You’re fucking rude,” he laughed, carefree and not the slightest bit impressed. Then he continued to envelop me in his arms, awkwardly rubbing his body against mine. “There. If I smell, you do too.”

I couldn’t hold back the giggle, pulling him away from where several people working at the venue pretended not to stare at us and his antics, and started making my way outside with his hand firmly in mine. “Guess we’ll both need a shower.”

•••

Neither of us mentioned the way the backseat of the cab seemed a little empty as we made our way to the hotel to pick up my suitcase and then Oli’s place. Even though Oli’s energy was filling the space tenfold and we kept talking, giggling, touching as innocently as possible while still being within the driver’s view, I was sure that he felt the absence of a third person in our midst. Tomorrow, I told myself. Tomorrow we’d talk to him. For now, I decided to focus solely on having Oli all to myself tonight.

The place was as homely as the night before, immediately drawing me in. I almost wanted to collapse on the couch, place myself just in the right way to stare out the windows once more, stay like that until the sunrise appeared, but all of that went straight out my brain as soon as Oli started undressing. He was still in the living room, lights on, with the curtains still drawn open, removing piece by piece and letting it fall on the floor. It didn’t really matter that he was fully on display - no other building in the vicinity was close or high enough to grant anyone the view that I was getting.

More and more tattooed flesh was being put on show and I drank all of it in, studying Oli’s body in a way I never had the chance to before, his broad chest, strong arms, muscular thighs, his half-erect cock. By the smirk on his face, he enjoyed the way I attempted to commit every single details about him to memory.

“Come on, love, you can’t be getting into the shower in all of that,” he grinned, motioning toward my outfit, but made no move to step closer. I didn’t mind. I could undress all on my own.

It wasn’t that I was actively trying to impress or give a show, my entire being was much too clumsy and lacking self-awareness for that, but the way I removed my top, my bra then let my skirt and tights follow before dropping my panties down my legs still seemed to have him hypnotised. It didn’t make me feel insecure. It made me feel like the most desirable person on the planet.

With his hand softly taking mine, Oli pulled me down the hallway and into his bathroom, making quick work of turning the shower on, checking until he was satisfied with the temperature and then pulled me under the large waterfall shower head. It was pure luxury. Both the way the hot water was raining down on me and how Oli wrapped himself around me once more, nothing between our naked bodies, just touches all over that had me sigh in utter relaxation.

I could feel him growing a little harder against me as my nipples perked up, but neither of us was in any hurry to do anything about it. Instead, Oli grabbed one of the bottles on the shelf next to him, stepping back to first lather himself and then me in shower gel. His hands were all over, starting at my shoulders, moving over my breasts with the utmost care, one arm, then the other, moving down my body, my back, my thighs, until he was basically kneeling in front of me. I took it all, the goosebumps following in the wake of his fingers, shivers running up and down my body under his delicate touch. When he stood back up to direct us back under the water, I almost cried out at the loss of his hands on me, before they were back, scrubbing me clean, reaching every single inch of my body. I did the same for him.

I couldn’t tell how long we stayed there as the mirror and the windows fogged up, I still could have remained there for longer, feeling safe and protected and warm, the world outside nothing but a far away thought that had no room between us. But my skin was getting wrinkly from the water and my brain was starting to get mushy from the heat, so we reluctantly detached from each other and stepped into the humid bathroom. Oli wrapped a towel around me, impossibly fluffy, then put another around his waist. We dried each other’s hair as much as possible before giving up, deciding we’d deal with the mess of it tomorrow.

Oli’s bed was unmade, none of us having had the time to strip and remake it this morning and it gave me a brief ache in my chest when I realised just how much Noah was missing, but Oli gently pushed me onto the bed, both of us losing our towels as we slid under the blanket, lights out, still staring at each other as much as our eyes allowed as they got used to the darkness.

“You’re amazing,” he said out of nowhere, his voice a little rough as we hadn’t spoken much since arriving, but it was his words which took me by surprise. “I’m sorry we drifted apart so much in the past. I think I pushed away just how much I need you.”

He moved a strand of hair away, tucking it gently behind my ear, and I had to take care not to let a trail of tears follow. Something in his voice was so honest, so vulnerable and true that I couldn’t help being emotional. It was more than I’d ever gotten from Oli, more than I’d ever thought I’d get, and even with everything that had been transpiring on this tour, I hadn’t seen it coming.

“I need you too, Oli. I don’t…” I swallowed, hard and audibly, my hand finding his, intertwining our fingers. “I don’t ever want to be without you again.”

It still felt like a risk, saying it out loud, not yet daring to say what I was really burning to utter, but hoping and praying that he knew, that he would get it, that my voice and my eyes and my hand in his would tell all. And when he kissed me, it felt like he did. When his hand wound up in my hair, it felt like he did. When he sighed against my lips, so softly, it felt like he did.

I wanted to stay in this moment forever. Anything that meant keeping his hands on me and his mouth on mine. It was so impossibly soft and sweet, it almost made me believe I was dreaming. But then Oli rolled himself on top of me, hot skin warming up my own, every single inch of him on me, his lap slotted against mine, my nipples hardening as they rubbed against his chest, and the kissing suddenly wasn’t even close to being enough. I wanted him, needed him, all of him.

The blanket was easily kicked off as the temperature rose, our naked bodies emitting more than enough heat as my thighs wrapped around Oli’s waist, pressing him harder against me. His mouth moved from my lips to my jawline, down my neck, over my breasts. All I could do was sigh in pleasure, letting his long hair tickle my skin on the way. I could feel he wanted to move further, until his head would rest between my legs, but I held onto his shoulders, then pulled ever so slightly at the back of his scalp to make him look up at me. Those gorgeous, deep, ever-changing eyes that lured me in, even when the dark room, illuminated by nothing but street lights below and the moon up above, barely let me see them.

“I want you, Oli,” I mumbled as soon as we were face to face again. “I just… want you.”

Oli, miraculously, understood. He kissed me again, so deeply that it made my head swim, before reaching down. I gladly let my legs fall open a little more, inviting his fingers in.

“At least let me prepare you a little, my love,” he whispered against my neck, one finger entering me with a sound that was impossible to ignore, a second immediately following. “So wet, so lovely and wet, just for me.”

I tried to get him closer, get more of him, pulling him in, everything that he would give me. I was losing control quickly, of the way my body moved, of the noises that he ripped from me.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me touch you like this.”

At the way his words sounded, voice low and raspy.

“Been dreaming about this so long, you don’t even know. Never thought you’d allow me to be with you like this. That you’d let me have all of you.”

He pumped his fingers a few times, experimentally adding a third finger which barely took any effort to slide in at all. Every single one of his words seemed to send another wave of lust over me, leaving me dripping and relaxed and more than ready to take him. When he pulled away, I whined pathetically, almost grabbing at his arm to keep him there.

“Come here, sweet thing.” He held his fingers out to me, tapping my lips to get me to open up. I licked them clean eagerly. “Taste yourself. Taste what you’re giving me. All for me.”

My brain wouldn’t have worked even if I’d actively tried to use it. I dumbly sucked on his fingers, a delirium waiting to happen, barely registering when he removed them from my mouth again to reach for the bedside drawer. He blindly grabbed a condom, ripping it open and putting him on, all the while keeping his eyes on my as much as possible. I loved how they looked. All hooded and pupils blown, full of arousal. I could only imagine he would be staring back at the same sight.

I immediately wrapped my legs around him again when he settled back on me. His forehead rested on mine, both of us breathing heavily, unable to keep still or quiet enough for another kiss when he pushed in.

“So perfect,” he moaned, completely in tune with mine when he buried himself in me. “So perfect, sweetheart.”

Then he started to move, slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid I could break or fall apart underneath him, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I wouldn’t. I felt like I was barely able to breathe. His cock in me, perfectly filling me up, his hands, whenever they weren’t holding his body up, everywhere on me. His eyes fully focused on mine.

The closeness hadn’t been there before. Not to this extent. And it almost made me want to break out in tears. It was simply so much, bordering on too much, while being just perfect, and all I could do was claw at his back, pull him that impossible inch closer, feel him all over, his breathing mixing with mine. He still took the time to look into my eyes, all throughout. One of my hands moved from his back to his cheek, unable to keep myself from touching his face, cradling it lovingly, a soft moment in between the heavy moans and loud noises.

Still, I didn’t see it coming.

Both of us were on the edge, steadily leaning over it and ready to fall. His thrusts were becoming quicker now, a little more shallow, and then his fingers were on my clit and I came so fast, it took me by surprise. I clenched around him, riding out my high with fingers digging into his back, letting myself fall into the feeling completely, knowing he’d be there to catch me and then he came undone too, low groans accompanying his release as he rutted into me again and-

“I love you.”

#Noah Sebastian fic #Noah Sebastian #Oli Sykes fic #Oli Sykes #Noah Sebastian x reader #Oli Sykes x reader #in love with the mess

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jesterwriting · 6 months

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empty inbox ya say? Don't mind if I show up!

So, I am a lover of the grumpy x sunshine kinda trope, but I want to hear your thoughts of crocodile having an caotic partner? Always having some kind of prank or stupid joke, just to see crocodile crack a smirk or something, but no matter how much they try, they always fail to so. So, after one day that the little sunshine tried so hard of trying they just pout around croc, and he just to try to cheer up his darling just a little, try to crack one of his own stupid joke just to see them laugh a little and go back into being his sunshine

(if you are not comfortable/don't find the prompt as entertaining, you can skip it tho, okay?)

pairing: crocodile x gn!reader

contents: established relationship, fluff, bad jokes, sunshine!reader, crocodile and his soft spot for you, he acts annoyed but hes entirely smitten i promise

word count: 1.1k words

note: OMG this was such a cute idea!! grumpy x sunshine is one of the best tropes ever, im such a sucker for it. im not particularly good at writing chaotic reader, though i definitely tried to make them quite silly. thank you so much for your request anon <33

playlist: dance the night by dua lipa

To an outsider, your relationship with Crocodile could, very easily, be one of the most confounding relationships one had ever seen. Of course, there had been more ill fitting partnerships out there, but you and Crocodile were close runners up. He was a large, intimidating man, with a harsh expression, and an even harsher tone. When he was displeased, his words alone were enough to rip apart an idiot’s flimsy confidence. Crocodile was a man of wealth and status. The only thing that ran deeper than the promise of violence, was the sand he was made of.

You, on the other hand, were the exact opposite. Bright and full of sunshine, you practically glowed against Crocodile’s side. With a smile so wide, it almost hurt to look at you. There was a softness to you that was absent in Crocodile. There had been more than one occasion where you were seen helping a wayward insect back outside, cupped gently against your palm, or offering directions to a lost couple who ran off in terror when your infamous husband approached. The crowd watched in horror when you scolded him with an elbow to the ribs. Crocodile did nothing but roll his eyes.

When you weren’t helping the lost, with your terrifying husband looming over your shoulder, you were a whirlwind of chaos. Prank after prank on unsuspecting visitors to the casino were done in your name. Nothing too egregious, you never aimed to harm, all you wanted was to make people laugh. A task you succeeded in, at least when you were alone. Crocodile’s unamused expression as he carted you away, laughing uproariously, did little for the mood.

It was only in the privacy of your shared abode did those pranks find a target in Crocodile. You respected your husband’s boundaries. Not once did you consider making a fool of him in public — not that it was your intention, you simply knew Crocodile well enough to know that was how he would take it — nor did you even consider any pranks that involved water. It was a damn shame. A bucket of water over the door was truly the prank of all time. Just imagining Crocodile, soaked to the bone, cigar wet and limp against his lips as he stared at you with such crushing annoyance, was enough to make you snicker out loud.

However funny it may be, your bits weren’t worth losing Crocodile’s trust. Such a thing was a rare gift from your husband, very few people alive had the honor to receive it. With a hint of pride, you considered the possibility that you were the only person alive to say that Crocodile felt safe enough to confide in them. Boy, if that didn’t make your heart absolutely swell.

Your only regret was, no matter how many jokes you played, you never got Crocodile to crack a smile. Even when you covered his desk with sticky notes — “Y/N, you realize you’re cleaning this up.” — or that stupid crank call you did a few weeks ago — “No, my refrigerator is not running, don’t call this number again.” — were not enough to get the barest huff of a laugh.

That was how you found yourself in Crocodile’s office, hanging upside down in the chair in front of his desk. It was normally reserved for when he had a private meeting, but today he was stuck doing paperwork. It was silent, save for the scribble of his pen against top secret documents you weren’t supposed to see, but would be able to look at with a single ‘please.’

“C’mon, you think I’m funny.”

Crocodile didn’t look up from his work as he responded, “I think you’re foolish.”

“Yeah, but I’m your fool.” Flipping around in your chair, you swung your legs over one arm and hung your head off the other. Boredom was not an uncommon foe during quiet afternoons with Crocodile. You needed near constant stimulation to keep yourself in check, and for all the reasons you loved him, Crocodile did, in fact, have a massive stick up his ass. “You’re a king and I’m your jingling little fool. Let me tell you a joke.”

Crocodile grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t tell you to stop. With a grin, you said, “Why did the egg hide?”

With a sigh, he dropped his pen to run a hand through his hair. “Why did the egg hide, Y/N?”

Patting a drumroll against your thighs, you paused for dramatic effect. Seconds passed in silence, save for your palms’ rhythmic song against your thighs, Crocodile’s eyebrows furrowing deeper and deeper the longer you continued. Finally, you blurted,

“It was a little chicken!”

Crickets. Your husband didn’t even spare you a response before his pen was in his hand again, signing who knew what. With a roll of your eyes, you flopped from the chair and onto the floor. The carpet was soft against your palms.

“Okay, that was bad, but you could have at least said something.”

“You’re going to have to say something funny to get a response out of me,” Crocodile rumbled, not even bothering to glance at you while you laid on the floor.

This sucked. You could make everyone laugh, all except for the one who mattered to you the most. A part of you wondered why you didn’t give up. You were sure you were being at least a little annoying — though the smaller voice in your head reminded you that Crocodile was one to request time alone when he was in a bad mood.

“Fine. No more jokes, spoilsport.”

No response. Fine then, at least the floor was comfortable.

For the next twenty minutes, you kept yourself busy by counting ceiling tiles, or by fighting the urge to reach under Crocodile’s desk and steal his shoes. No more pranks, remember, you told yourself. Not until you stopped feeling like a big ol’ pile of poo, at least.

“How do you make a plumber cry?” Crocodile’s voice surprised you after going so long without hearing it. (It’d been thirty minutes, maximum, though it felt like an eternity)

You wet your lips before you responded, already feeling a giggle bubbling in your chest. “How?”

“Kill his family.”

You burst out laughing. Curling your fingers against the edge of the desk, you popped your head into his view, positively beaming. While Crocodile was never one for grandiose displays of emotion, he graced you with one of his rare, honest smiles.

“That’s more like it, doll.”

#one piece x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x yn #sir crocodile x you #crocodile x yn #crocodile x you #.jesterwrites #if you look closely you can see the exact point i had to fight to not call yn crocodiles silly little jester

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