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ficnation · 6 months

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Chapter 4: Bon Appétit

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, 18+, SMUT A/n: I'm really putting off the inevitable here sksksksk. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3 Btw this is my first time writing explicit smut (unedited)

This is also another late piece to @the-slumberparty Bingo Card event (prompt: proposal) - > Events Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

When Will comes home that night after promising you he’ll only be gone for a few hours, he’s doing anything in his power not to look you in the eyes. He kept his word, coming back exactly three hours and twenty-six minutes later. You stare at him, intrigued. You don’t understand why he’s acting this way, but your mind screams at you that it can’t be anything good—it’s right, like always.

“I resumed my therapy with Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” he informs you after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. He still doesn’t look at you, as he takes off his jacket and boots.

“You did what?” You blink at him in confusion—utterly dumbfounded. The meaning of his words doesn’t even register in your brain.

“I’m going to keep on seeing Hannibal,” Will repeats in the same monotonous voice.

It hits you like a train, and your stomach churns at the thought of them sitting across from each other, talking about emotions and Will’s life. Your expression turns to one of disapproval as the man expected.

“After everything he’s done, after everything he put you through, why would you do that?”

Will doesn’t respond right away, and you can tell he’s struggling with his words. “There are things I need to learn about myself,” he says finally. “About what it’s like to be me.”

You stare at him, burning invisible holes in his head, trying to decipher what is truly happening here. The guilt that emanates from his person, the fact that he still can’t meet your gaze—it’s more than suspicious. The realization hits you even harder than the fact he wants to be anywhere near Hannibal Lecter.

“Why are you lying to me?” you ask, voice on the verge of breaking. You hate yourself for ever thinking that he trusts you completely after all those years apart. The tears gathering in your eyes are more angry than sorrowful.

For a moment, Will goes silent. The silence is thick, full of tension as the two of you remain in your positions—you watching him, and him with his back turned to you.

Then, he closes his eyes tightly, as if fighting against a headache. He finally speaks, but only after turning slowly to face you. You immediately notice the pained expression on his face, the guilt that drips from his very skin.

“I have to keep seeing him.”

You go to protest again, but the sound of your voice cracks, and no words emerge. Will doesn’t wish to ever hear this noise from you again. It feels criminal—being the one who caused it. His heart breaks in a way it never did before—it stings like someone delivered it one thousand cuts.

You both remain silent for what feels like an eternity. Will doesn’t look away from you, and your eyes are locked on him, on that misery and pain staring right at you. No one moves, no one blinks, no one probably even breathes. Everything is still, except for your heart which aches even worse than it did before. The silence gets so thick you can almost feel it—touch it. For the life of you, you don’t want to be the one to break it.

You want to speak, beg, convince him to stop these mind games, to give you an explanation you could understand. But you choose to keep your mouth shut, slumping further into the cushions of the armchair.

Will’s eyes don’t leave you. They remain fixed on you as if willing you to speak, to tell him something that would make all of this suddenly go away. Anything.

He wants you to read his mind, and understand his pleas, but you can’t— and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You don’t do anything, don’t even move a muscle and after a few moments of waiting, Will finally breaks the silence.

“I don’t want him to do this to anyone else,” he says. His words are soft and quiet, but they carry a weight that you feel in your chest.

“Yet you didn’t start with that. You chose to lie.”

Will sighs. He looks exhausted as if you’ve been here asking him questions for hours, even though it’s been twenty minutes at most.

“I didn’t want you to stop me. There, I said it,” he says. “It was hard. Harder than anything I’ve ever done. Can you just cut me some slack over here?”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t know what to think or what to say about this whole situation. It seems absurd, and you have to remind yourself that you might’ve paused your story with Will Graham, but for him time has passed, things have changed.

You’re not proud of the words that leave you next. God, you wish you could just catch them in the air before they have a chance to reach his ears and put them back in your mouth.

“Change your fucking tone, Will.”

You’re shocked with your own words, but Will doesn’t seem annoyed or offended, not like most people would. He’s still staring at you, but you notice the slightest hint of amusement in his expression as if this new side of you intrigued him rather than annoyed him.

“You don’t like me speaking to you like that, my dear?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He makes no attempts to sound serious—just enough to make you laugh, but his words carry weight. He’s genuinely curious.

Will Graham just called you “my dear” and your whole face warms up at this term of endearment as you observe him fall to one knee in front of your person.

“What are you doing?” you choke out, confused, butterflies fluttering wildly in your chest.

Will takes his time to reply, his eyes scanning you and your reactions. He seems to enjoy the sight of you flustered, barely keeping up with what’s happening right in front of your face. His heart skips a beat more than twice in the span of a few seconds.

“I’m proposing.”

The words seem so absurd that you half expect him to break the tension with a quick joke, but he doesn’t. His gaze is glued to you, his words as serious as they can be. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to react. Your mind is frozen.

“What the fuck, Will?”

Will grins at that and shakes his head as if he’d expected your reaction to be no different. He keeps his stance, one knee on the floor, as he stares at you affectionately—with so much love you’re surprised he doesn’t explode from it. The man is enjoying your confusion and the fact that he managed to pull it out of you. He’s not ashamed to admit it, either.

“That’s the kind of reaction I was hoping for,” he says quietly and in a matter of time, his hand is on your thigh, tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric of your pajama pants. “You were always going to say no for the first time.”

You blink at him, trying to coax out words from within you, but you don’t find any. That only makes you even more confused, and your expression turns to a frown. Is he really… asking you to marry him?

“I know, I’m quite the romantic.” He pauses, trying to stifle his chuckle. “Do you want me to ask you the usual way?”

“Will, are you serious?” you ask, your voice so gentle the words barely sound like they’re yours. Will only nods his head. “I don’t want you to ask at all. I want us to get married as soon as possible.”

He reaches down to grab your hands in his. “I never believed in marriage. I’m not sure if I do now either,” he admits awkwardly, playing with your fingers. “But I really want to hear people call you Mrs. Graham.”

Your heart jumps as he speaks as if you’d been waiting for him to admit those words for years. The words sink in slowly and your eyes become distant, as if you’d been taken back in time. A warm feeling spreads across your chest like you just swallowed a whole bottle of wine in one ginormous gulp.

“You know I can’t say no.” Your words are quiet and soft. He pulls you down onto his lap, his hands still around your fingers as he brings them to his chest. “Can I call you mine too?”

“Always,” Will replies, his voice low and quiet, but full of love and emotion. “It’s been you all along.”

A soft smile rests on your face as you look down at him. Your head is right above his, but you decide to close the tiny distance between you by leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. You feel your heart race as you do so.

“Did you come up with this to distract me?” Your voice is playful, but the air around you is thick and humid.

Will leans forward and wraps his arms snugly around your waist, hugging you tight. Your fingers play with his curls, his head back on your chest. The whole weight of him hangs onto you like all the sins in the world, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Maybe,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips, even though he seems serious.

You can feel his body shift, and suddenly Will presses you firmly against the growing hardness inside his jeans. The whimper that pushes past your lips as you feel it through the thin layer of your pajama pants is downright desperate. You both can’t hide the fact that your breaths are becoming more irregular, muscles tensing under each other’s hands.

“I like being distracted like this,” you whisper, your nose nuzzling against his temple.

A low growl comes from the man’s chest. You’re close enough to the source of the sound to feel the vibration against your body. He presses his face to your neck, taking in the scent of your skin like he’s oxygen-deprived.

“Should I distract you too, Will?” you ask him quietly, tugging at his tousled hair.

“You’ve done enough, dear. I’m already distracted.” His voice is soft, and his words catch in his throat. Will doesn’t seem to have a single rational thought going through his head. It’s like all he can process is his need for you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this was a spell cast on him. “I want you.” His hand moves to your hip, and he presses into you harder, your breath catching in your throat. “Please.”

And who are you to deny him of anything his soul could ever want or need? You don’t wait for more encouragement as your fingers start working on hastily unbuttoning his shirt. They trace the smooth lines of his chest, the scars that mark his skin, and every little detail of him—every part of his history that he once saw as a defect. It’s not. It’s who he is, who he’s always been—his past is a part of what made him the Will you know and love.

Your fingers slowly make their way down to his belt and unclasp it too in one go. You graze over his hardness on accident, already feeling its heat through the thin layer. You let out a whimper and your whole brain starts to short-circuit.

“Slowly.” Will’s voice is hoarse and raw, his fingers digging deeply into the skin of your hip. “I want to see you.”

The man doesn’t waste any time in waiting for your reaction as his hand moves up to your face. His touch is gentle as it pushes back your hair, his fingertips rubbing against the skin behind your ear before they start pursuing the shape of your neck—every muscle and tendon.

“Slowly,” he repeats, and you can’t help but groan.

Nevertheless, you obey, letting your hands explore every surface of his flesh again like he’s the perfect puzzle that you need to solve. His own mirror yours, sliding below the thin layer of your t-shirt, grazing over your navel, and pushing upwards.

Every move you make leaves its mark, causing his body to tremble even more. His breath becomes so uneven, you think he might fall apart at any moment. The mere sound sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes, like that,” he mumbles, and his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers these words. His hand moves again and starts to tug at your shirt.

You help him remove it in one go, left in only your plaid pajama bottoms. Will’s touch is familiar, one you could never forget—not like the dozen strangers through the past few years, you never even remembered their faces come tomorrow morning. But his touch sets you ablaze—burns and soothes at the same time, it’s unforgettable.

Will reaches up to pull your head against his so that you’re staring straight at one another. His touch is gentle, but there’s an intensity to it that you can’t mistake. His lips slowly approach yours with such an intense need that you can read it in his gaze. Even though he doesn’t say it, you feel that this kiss is more than just desire—it’s a need to be as close to you as possible, to never let you go again. His tongue delves inside your mouth, and you sigh into it.

The feeling of your skin pressed against his leaves Will desperate, his mind so overwhelmed and in a haze, he can’t even form the words to describe the sensation. His hand keeps moving as if your flesh were an addiction. The sound that leaves from his throat is something so close to a purr—he’s almost embarrassed.

You feel his body tensing, his muscles flexing against yours, and your skin feels hot and all too sensitive. He’s taking advantage of this moment to touch you anywhere he can reach. His fingers leave no inch of your skin unexplored as he slowly begins to lower your pajama bottoms.

“God, you’re beautiful.” The sound of your voice draws Will’s eyes closed as he inhales deeply.

Will’s fingers glide down toward your legs, and he looks as if all his dreams are coming true at once. You see his eyes flicker open, and he looks at you with such intensity, such concentration, that it’s hard to breathe as you’re pulled along by an invisible force. He finally lets go of your chin so that he can drag your pajamas down further until they’re thrown across the room.

You take his hands in yours, placing them over your breasts. And it’s only when his teeth drag across your neck, from just above your collarbone down to the crook of your shoulder, that he loses it completely.

There’s no being slow or gentle when he pushes you away, standing up and pulling you to your feet. You take hurried steps back as he nudges you toward the bed. Soon enough, your calves hit the mattress and you fall back onto the blue duvet. You don’t even have a chance to take a breath, Will is hovering over you, elbows on each side of your head.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, looking deep into your eyes—so deep you’re afraid he can see the broken soul behind them.

You help him push his jeans and boxers down the length of his legs. The second they’re no longer an obstacle, Will’s fingers delve between your thighs, circling your clit teasingly with the gentlest of touches. Your lips part in a gasp, hands falling onto the covers to clench them in your fists.

“Will, please,” you plead between whimpers. He was the only one who could ever bring you to the point of begging, and you hope he knows it somewhere deep within.

The man faces you with glassy eyes, swiping the tip of his tongue over his bottom lips. He doesn’t need you to say anything more, he just nods feverishly and lets your fingers guide him inside. The sensation of your heat gripping him tightly makes him groan, lips falling agape. You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing them behind his back, and pull him even closer.

“Will,” you moan his name against his lips.

It spurs him on, makes him even more eager to please you. He draws back almost completely, then buries himself inside you again in one smooth motion. Your thighs tremble visibly, and it almost makes him smile. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, fingers tugging on his curls.

Will rocks into you deep and steady, one of his hands digging into the meat of your thigh with so much force it hurts—but goddamn, you love this kind of pain. And he makes it feel even more heavenly when his thumb begins to trace circles over your clit.

It doesn’t take him long to take you over the edge—hard and fast—turning you into a mindless, hot, whimpering mess. You mumble his name over and over again as your heat pulses around his length, making him come just a few moments after you. He claims your mouth with his, making you taste your name on his lips. God, does it taste heavenly.

Night came quicker than you realized, covering the sky with bright stars and a full moon. Despite it, it’s not pitch black outside. The shimmering snow reflects the shining lights, fighting off the darkness well enough. It doesn’t make you feel any less threatened, even though it should.

You’re wrapped only in the blue duvet that covered the bed, as you lie on your side, facing Will, who’s already asleep. His bare thigh is right against yours, and the heat of his skin is almost impossible to resist. You let your eyes wander across his body, his physique—he looks like a sculpture, a masterpiece of flesh and bone.

Your body still aches from his touch, and you feel like you’re a puddle of emotions with the sole mission of holding love, affection, and desire for him. You’re about as far away from being “fine” as possible. You didn’t even get a chance to tell him you’ll be working together from now on. He doesn’t know he’s allowed back in BAU, and you wonder if you should leave him unknowing for as long as possible. It’s not your greatest idea, but the idea of him breaking beyond repair terrifies you.

You try to calm your heart as it races and skips a beat every time his body shifts—the smallest movement seems like it could wake him up. But as you lie there in the darkness, his hand reaches out and finds its rightful place on your thigh again, his fingers barely grazing your skin. The sensation makes you almost jump out of your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Why are you awake?” he asks with half-closed eyes.

“Can’t sleep,” you reply softly, wanting to touch him back, but not sure if you should.

“I figured,” he murmurs. “You didn’t sleep much yesterday either.”

You sigh sadly, you didn’t think he’d noticed. His hand moves up your thigh, almost instinctively, until it touches you just below your hip. It stops there, and your eyelashes flutter at its warmth against your skin.

“You can touch me.” Will’s voice is so quiet it’s almost inaudible, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Your fingers slip under the duvet, so the fabric doesn’t block your touch, and you begin to trace the outline of his leg with the tips of your fingers. Will’s eyes finally open, and he looks almost nervous at the intimate touch—until you find the spot where he’s ticklish. He lets out an adorable whimper, so naturally, you laugh and keep going.

“No, no, please stop,” Will moans, trying to fight back his chuckles, squirming as he tries to get away from your touch. The whole time he’s half-smiling, his fingers digging into the duvet for stability. He tries to grab your hands, but it only makes you laugh harder.

You find another ticklish spot on the side of his torso and continue to tease him. Eventually, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you watch Will scoot back, out of your reach. Your sour mood from before is gone in an instant.

Will moves up so that he’s sitting up against the wall, practically on the edge of the bed, and he looks almost offended by your reaction. Your gaze shifts, so you can get a fuller view of him.

“I’m not as ticklish as you think,” he says, his tone serious, though you can still hear a tremble in his voice. “If you wanted to see me squirm,” he adds, “you could’ve found a different method.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you immediately pull the sheets up to cover the bottom part of your face, trying to hide your flustered reaction from his eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he says, his voice just a whisper, almost as if he was afraid that anything above a murmur could wake the dogs sleeping by the fireplace. “So adorable.”

Will’s hand rests on your head, his fingers playing with the strands of hair that cover your ears. You can feel him studying you—how your nose twitches and your eyes almost close as you wait for his next words. Something about it feels intimate as if he’s taking in every detail of your expression one by one. It’s been a while since he’s done that, you didn’t even realize how much you missed it.

“You can pull it down, you know,” he says playfully, his hand still in your hair. “This must be suffocating.”

“I know,” you say quietly, as you pull the sheets down from your face.

Will’s fingers interlace with yours, and you can feel his thumb circling your wrist.

“And yes, it is a bit suffocating.” You pull the sheets down to your collarbones, and a chill runs through your body as the cold air touches your arms. “Maybe you can warm me up.”

Will smiles—a small, sweet smile, with a bit of mischief thrown in. “Maybe I can,” his tone is playful as he pulls you close, your cheek finding a home on his chest, right above his heart.

After a few long minutes of silence and listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat, you turn to face him, resting your chin above his pec.

“We’re back on the team, you know?” you mumble almost mindlessly.

Will looks down at you, his expression gentle as he caresses your hair.

“I know.”

His gaze trails down your face and lingers on your lips for a brief moment before it shifts again. There are so many things Will wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to do it—he fears it would ruin these quiet, peaceful moments between you two.

You don’t question how he already knows that, choosing instead to voice your other thoughts—ones that’ve been on your mind almost the whole day. “What did Alana want from you?”

Will’s hand pauses against your face when you bring up her name, and for a moment he seems speechless, which is rare a thing for him.

“I…” He trails off but then speaks again as if he’s found the courage to say the words. “Alana wants me to stay away from Hannibal,” he says quietly, his fingers moving on your cheeks, your brows, your chin, as if his hand isn’t allowed to stay still for a second without touching the flesh it can. “She’s sleeping with him.”

“Why does she want you to stay away?”

“Because I tried to kill him.”

You don’t even blink at his confession, there’s no fear in your gaze—no ounce of surprise. There was a time in your life when this revelation would’ve shocked you, broken you in half, but after your father’s death, when you’re faced with it, it’s… easy to handle. Will expected this kind of indifference, he knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t judge nor be afraid.

“How?”

Will lets your question hang in the air for a long minute before he speaks. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Not by my hand—not like that,” he starts. “Hannibal has a lot of… a lot of hold over me,” he pauses again, “he made me want to do it.” It’s probably the most vulnerable, the most genuine explanation Will has given anyone. He’s speaking to you from the heart and in pure honesty. “An opportunity fell on my lap to send someone after him, so I took it.”

You nod your head in acknowledgment—it makes sense to you. “It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”

A hint of a smile appears on Will’s face. He moves his fingers to the nape of your neck and to caress the lines of your ear—it’s something he always used to do when he was thinking and you were nearby. “Alana’s very upset with me.”

Will’s other hand slides over your thigh, his fingers teasing the skin, almost as if he was trying to test it, like a cat with a piece of string. He’s still thinking when his hand starts to move upwards, closer to your hip.

“Don’t take it to heart,” you advise him, leaving a soothing peck on his jaw. It was the best you could do.

“I’m trying.” He laughs in a low rumble, his hand moving between your legs and your whole body tenses. “I’m trying,” he says again.

The touch is so soft and gentle—almost teasing, yet your body seems to be craving it. It makes him nervous, but also excited, and when he closes his eyes his head just falls back to rest against the wall, his teeth showing as he breathes in deeply.

“Would you have done this if I…” his words trail off into silence as the man doesn’t seem certain about how to finish his sentence. He looks at you, his face revealing all the questions that he doesn’t dare to ask.

You grasp his jaw between your hands, encouraging him to speak his mind, but being unconditionally patient at the same time. He tries to say something again, then changes his mind. It’s as if he’s playing a constant game with you, trying to reach into your mind without opening his mouth like most people do.

“If you…”

“If I was still the same,” he mumbles out finally.

“Will, you are still the same person. Perhaps a little more broken than before, but it’s still you.”

Will stays silent and still for a minute with his eyes closed, his hand still between your legs. The tips of his fingers keep barely touching you, almost a caress, although a bit harsher than before. His lids flutter open, so you can see his face as it’s lit by the moonlight.

“There’s something I’d like you to promise,” he says cautiously as if every word is carefully thought out before he speaks it aloud. “Promise me that you’ll keep trusting in me... even if you don’t understand.”

Will’s hand moves up from between your legs so that he can touch your waist and hold you in place. The fingers of his other hand stroke your face down to the side of your neck, and you can feel how your heart starts to beat faster and faster with each touch.

“I will always trust you, Will. Just never lie to me again, have a little faith in me too.”

Will lets his eyes fall down to your lips again, and he can’t help but bite his own in response. As if he was trying to hold himself together but the urge to kiss you was almost too strong, the way his gaze kept shifting.

When his lips touch yours—it’s a long, slow kiss, deep and gentle at the same time. He holds you in place, your hips pressed against his as if he doesn’t want you to move, even a centimeter. And you don’t dream of being anywhere else but here—by his side.

“I love you, Will.”

#eat your heart out #smut #mdni #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal lecter x will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannigram #will graham x reader #will graham x hannibal lecter #will graham

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psychelis-new · 1 day

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pick a pile: "What a beautiful flower you are"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a few words reminding you of how strong, worthy and important you are through every step of your journey. remind yourself of how flower can stand up in the rain and how they may grow through concrete. no matter what is going on, remember that at the end of the day you are always the best, strongest and most valuable flower around at any given time. you can't compare with anyone else, cause you're unique.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life. readings do not substitute real life experience nor professionals/doctors advices.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3 - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

You make beautiful things grow around whatever negative may happen. You find the positive side in anything that happens and know how to start all over again from anything, trying to make it better. You welcome and nurture what hurts, you transform it in seeds that one day will give life to beautiful flowers just like you. I think you help a lot especially people around you in this process of seeing and finding a positive side, a different side from which to look at what happens and what has happened. You give new povs and new life to scraps and past (it could also be something you like to do creatively/practically, btw). I think those coming in touch with you are deeply changed and inspired by you. You probably forget to use this beautiful habit of yours for yourself too. Please, include yourself into this. You're as deserving of beautiful things as others. Nurture your own pain too, and do anything you can to make it grow into something beautiful and bright as you. And don't close off from others, don't hide your pain from those who'd love to help you. Let them do it for you. You deserve as much as you give away.

song: obsessed | mariah carey (don't be overly obsessed in helping others to the point of codependency, help yourself as well)

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pile 2

You may have experienced some difficult relationships (eg. family, love, friends, colleagues...) and now you kind of buildt a multi-layered wall around your heart so that people won't be able to make you suffer/betray you again. And yes it's hard for people to get in and hurt you but also to love you. And yes it may make you feel strong and in control but I think you may be also struggling a lot because of this. Being so overprotective of yourself, despite ofc understandable (it's a defense mechanism), is making you feel lonely too because it's blocking your connections from growing. You've been through a lot and you're still here but it's not because of your walls that you made it through. It's because of the love that pulse inside of you. Have a talk with your emotions, with your wounded ego, and realize that not everyone is here to hurt you. You're very much hurting yourself first by not letting others in in fear of something that may never happen. You can survive anything, you can defend yourself, you can call people out or ask for clarifications. It's not you the naive/"wrong" person if you trust others and they let you down or betray you. You cannot control what others do with what you give them, nor you're responsible of/guilty for that. Come back to you, master your emotions.

song: pure shores | all saints

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pile 3

I think at times you're confident and well but other times you let your self doubt come in between and make you fear you're saying or doing something bad? Ruining something or the day of someone else? Like you end up falling easily and fast into this negative mental pattern of being useless and inherently "bad" (guilty? unworthy?). I think it's a matter of growing acquainted with your boundaries, setting some healthy ones and not fear being judged (it may have happened a lot in your life) for them or not being appreciated anymore or abandoned if you stopped pleasing others. We need to respect ourselves too, not just others (and pleasing them is not the same as respecting them anyway: you can disagree/say no and still be respectful). It's like you forget about your worth (it doesn't depend on how good you perform) all of a sudden in fear of being left out. You may feel unsafe in setting your boundaries especially when stressed out (or it just may stress you as said), like you may fear being perceived as rude and left alone. It may be that you got manipulated or gaslighted into feeling always wrong, guilty or bad if you didn't acted as "expected of you". I'm sorry about this: remember you are inherently good and worthy, and you have the right to stand up for yourself. You won't end up alone. Find your inner balance and peace, go slow. You're already perfect.

song: underdog | you me at six

#pac #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #pick a card tarot #pick a picture #pick a photo #divination #clairs readings #psychic readings #intuitive readings #tarotblr #tarot readings #tarotcommunity #tarots

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rollinouttahere-writes · 3 months

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Oh f#ck I am kinda relived , thank you so much(I was scared that I sended something stupid)😌

If so, It was the Part 3 of Searing Pain btw. (I just can't stop loving how well you captured characters's emotions there.)

Searing Pain: Part 3

Yandere Ace and Luffy x Reader

3.8k words

Part 1 / Part 2

Recovery from any injury was never easy, but for someone suffering your given injuries, it was grueling.

Pain had been expected. Between the broken ribs, absent lung, and the patched up hole in your chest, it was a given that you were going to be in agony for a while. Regardless of that, you were doing your best to remain active. It’s only been a few days since you woke up, but you’ve been able to get up and walk around. With help. Luffy’s help, specifically.

Ever since Chopper encouraged you to get up and be active to aid in your recovery and lessen the chance of blood clots, Luffy put it upon himself to be your personal helper. If you were being completely honest, you had been hesitant to accept his help initially. Not because you didn’t trust him, of course you did, but you questioned how capable he was of being gentle enough to not hurt you more.

All of your concerns had proven themselves to be incorrect. Luffy has been ridiculously careful with you. It’s like seeing a whole new side of him. You need to get up? Don’t worry, Luffy will help you stand. Need to sit back down? He’ll help with that, too. Need literally anything? He’ll get it for you. Usually without even leaving your side thanks to his devil fruit powers.

As flattering as it is that he cares about you enough to be helping you this much, it was odd to see him being this serious. While he was still showing his typical goofy attitude in some respects, there was always this air of vigilance that accompanied his every action. He would study your face every time you moved and would fling himself to your side if you so much as made a noise on the rare occasion that he had stepped away.

It’s not like there weren’t other people that could help you. The rest of your crewmates were all capable of and eager to assist you in any way you need, but Luffy wouldn’t give them the opportunity. He can help you walk and eat, and he keeps an eye on you while you sleep, so it’s fine. He’s got it covered! He even tried to help you go to the bathroom, and it had been an uphill battle to convince him that you could at least do that part on your own.

That effort had all been in vain. Just because you managed to get him to wait outside didn’t mean that he wouldn’t damn near break the door down when he saw fit. Which he did when you hissed in pain while trying to stand up after finishing your business. Your pants had still been down, much to your mortification, but at least he hadn’t commented on that part.

Outside of that embarrassing ordeal, you did appreciate his help. Walking on your own was still an impossibility, Chopper had made that clear by stressing how devastating a fall could be for you right now. Franky had thrown together a walker for you, but it wasn’t needed. Luffy had taken that role upon himself. A good thing, too, given that the walker vanished not long after it was built.

Luffy was shockingly patient with how slow your pace was. He’s standing next to you with one arm reaching around you and holding your hip to keep you balanced, while the other hand is holding your own and supporting the bulk of your weight. His steps matched yours and his eyes were boring into you, looking for any hint of discomfort on your face. Beyond the usual amount, at least.

“Hey! I can see Ace’s boat!” Usopp called out from the crow’s nest. “And it looks like there’s two people on board, one of them has to be the doctor!”

Both you and Luffy looked to where Usopp was pointing. Sure enough, there was a small boat on the horizon. It was much too far for you to be able to make it out personally, but you trusted Usopp’s eyesight to be accurate.

Luffy’s hands flexed, and he kept looking back and forth between you and Ace’s approaching figure. You gave his hand a squeeze, “You should go over and wait for him, I’m sure you’re excited to see Ace again.”

“You want to see him again, too. We can wait together.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he began gently guiding you to turn.

“You should go by yourself. I need to sit down again. Now, preferably.” Fatigue was hitting you hard. A side effect that you had not been as prepared for. After even just a little bit of activity you would find yourself feeling winded and needing to lie down. You’re pretty sure you’ve been taking more naps than Zoro lately.

At your stating of needing to rest, Luffy’s eyes shot wide with panic. He whipped his head around frantically before spotting an empty chair across the deck. Using the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he stretched his arm over to grab it. Wooden legs dragged over the floorboards as it was yanked this way. The second it was in place, Luffy wasted no time helping you to sit. It was a slow process, but he never once rushed you through it.

With you now seated, Luffy hesitated briefly before finally going to the side of the ship that Ace was approaching.

Cautiously, you slumped against the back of the chair. You hadn’t been walking for long but it felt like you’d just returned from a lengthy journey. Chopper assured you that this was a normal symptom for your condition. Without one of your lungs, you were getting half as much oxygen as your body was used to. Fatigue was to be expected until your body could adjust to the major change.

A nap sounded great right about now, but if Ace had brought that doctor with him then he would most likely want to speak with you and not wait a couple of hours for you to come to again.

Your hand drifted up to your head and pulled the hat off of it. The brim of the straw hat scratched against your fingers as they ghosted over it. Luffy still hasn’t taken it back since he left it with you when you were still unconscious. Seeing him without his hat for so long was odd to say the least. Granted, it’s not like he was far from it at any given moment since he was attached at your hip, but it was a surprising gesture on his part regardless.

Even though you couldn’t see Ace’s boat from your seated position, you could definitely still hear it coming. Striker was not a particularly stealthy ship. The roar of the engine was growing louder and louder by the second, it wouldn’t be long before he was here. Him, and the doctor.

The doctor most likely being Marco the Phoenix. You don’t know him personally, but you’ve seen bounty posters and heard tell of his feats. From the sound of it, he was as much a fierce fighter as he was a skilled doctor. You could only hope that he was a miracle worker with the severity of your injury. Not that you wouldn’t be appreciative of any help he gave you. It’s just that… Your life as a pirate is strongly hinged on him being able to fix your lung situation.

Just as the rumble of Striker’s engine was starting to become grating, it stopped.

A few of your other crewmates rushed over to where the boat was being docked to greet the duo. Chopper was notably excited to be able to talk to another doctor, especially one held in such high regard.

While you were eager to find out what Marco could do for you, you were also nervous about the possibility that what he could do for you wouldn’t be enough. You willed yourself to look away and put Luffy’s hat back on your head.

The sound of two people clambering up the side of the ship followed by the chattering of your crew tempted you into glancing over.

Ace stood out to you immediately. Everyone had assured you that he had gotten away from the battle unscathed, but being able to see with your own eyes that he was safe truly took the worries off your mind. You made eye contact with him, and he grinned broadly while slipping past the small crowd that had gathered.

“It’s good to see you awake.” Ace came to a stop right next to you. His smile faltered as his hands hovered over you, visibly unsure of where to place them. Deciding that your torso was too high risk, he settled for holding one of your hands in both of his. “Sorry I didn’t stick around to see you wake up, but I wanted to get Marco over here as soon as possible.” His eyes flickered down to the visible bandages underneath your shirt, “So… How are you feeling?”

Like the fragmented remains of a landmine.

“I’ve… been better, but it’s not so bad. Everyone has been taking great care of me. Especially Luffy.” This was probably a better response than the one in your mind. There was no use in making him feel sorry for you when it seemed he already was.

At the mention of his brother’s name, Ace’s smile returned, “I’m not surprised. He promised to stay by your side until you were better, and he’s serious about his promises.” He leaned forward and flicked the brim of Luffy’s hat, “I am a little surprised he’s still letting you wear this, though.”

“That makes two of us,” you readjusted the hat to keep it from falling off. You contemplated asking about the promise Ace just mentioned. This was the first you were hearing of it. That would definitely explain his dedication to you. Who had prompted that discussion. Did Ace make Luffy promise or did Luffy come up with the idea on his own?

“You must be (Y/N).”

The question you had was going to have to wait. You look over to the source of the voice and see Marco for the first time. His posture is relaxed as he looks down at you, likely expecting an answer.

“Yeah, that’s me. You must be Marco,” you returned his smile and held out your hand to shake his.

“That would be correct,” he gently clasps your hand and gives it a brief shake before flipping it over and pressing two fingers against the pulse point on your wrist. He mutters ‘a little high’ before shifting his attention back to you, “Would you like to have our appointment now or do you need to rest?”

You could absolutely use some sleep, or even just a longer opportunity to sit down, but you wanted to get this done as soon as possible. You can’t wait any longer to find out if he can find a way to repair your lung. Or lack thereof.

“I’m okay, let’s do this now.” It dawned on you that he may be tired after being on Striker for who knows how long, “If you’re okay with that, that is. I don’t mind waiting if you want some rest after traveling all the way here.”

“I’m perfectly fine.” He nudges Ace out of the way and holds out his arms to you, “Here, let me help you up.”

Before you can accept his help, Luffy crashes into him, “I can do that!”

Marco, much to your surprise, barely budges from the human battering ram. He looks over his shoulder at Luffy with a raised brow, appearing more so amused than anything else, “I appreciate your offer, but I would like to use this as a chance to see how their recovery is coming along.”

“Then just watch me help them, you don’t need to do it.” Luffy, never one to be deterred easily, stands his ground.

Ace clamped a hand onto Luffy’s shoulder and pulled him back, “It’ll be for the best to let Marco do this. Don’t worry so much, they’re in good hands with him. How about you stay here with me and we can catch up?”

Luffy scowled, “(Y/N) isn’t better yet, I’m going with them.”

The disagreement was only escalating, so you cut in, “I’ll be okay, Luffy. Why don’t you relax for a bit?” You pull his hat from your head and hold it out to him, “Do you want this back?” Maybe he’s getting anxious about being away from his prized possession?

The offer seems to be borderline offensive to Luffy. He snatches the hat out of your hand only to firmly place it back on your head in a way that it completely covers your eyes. “No, you keep it.”

By the time you push the brim of the hat up enough to be able to see again, Luffy and Ace are walking away, though the former looks to be dragging his feet. You cringe internally and hope that you didn’t genuinely upset him.

“Your captain is awfully protective of you,” Marco notes.

He can say that again. You nod, “He’s been like this since I got hurt.”

“Well, now that he isn’t here, let’s see what I can do about that injury of yours.” Marco’s hands find yours and he waits for you to make the first move to stand.

You’re eager to get this over with, so you only take a couple of seconds to brace yourself before beginning the arduous task of getting onto your feet. The instant you sit up, your chest suffers a stab of pain as muscles tug on the wound and you wince.

“Take your time.”

You nodded but kept pushing forward. Now that you were upright, you planted your feet on the ground as best as you could and slowly lifted your body off the chair. All the while your hands were gripping onto Marco’s like he was your lifeline, which he may very well be at this point. Every movement and twitch of your shoulders pulled on your chest wound and you had to bite back the urge to scream. Something you’ve learned to do very well over the course of the last few days.

Marco studied you intensely, taking in every little reaction you had. Once you were finally on your feet, he paused and allowed you to catch your breath. A task easier said than done. “I-I’m sorry, just give me a minute. Please.”

“There’s no rush, don’t force yourself on my behalf. You’re doing very well,” he assured you.

This really did not feel like “doing very well”, but who were you to argue with him? This would typically be the point where you lean forward and rest some of your weight onto Luffy, but you didn’t know Marco well enough to be able to assume that he would be okay with you doing that.

Your breathing was about as good as it was going to get, “Okay. I’m okay. Let’s go.”

Luckily for you, the infirmary wasn’t far from where you were previously seated. Once you were properly up on your feet, walking wasn’t too hard on you. It was just the act of getting there and your rapidly decreasing stamina that got in the way.

Unluckily for you, you needed to be laid down once you got to the infirmary. It was even worse than sitting up since it required much more movement in your torso. Marco did everything he could to ease you back onto it, but you were still on the verge of tears by the time you were fully settled onto the bed. Luffy’s hat was placed on the bedside table for the time being.

Marco stepped away from the bed and rummaged around Chopper’s desk, pulling out some papers. He didn’t spend long reading over them before dropping it onto the desk and grabbing a stethoscope. He returned to the bed and sat down next to you.

The chestpiece was lightly pressed against where your remaining lung was and he asked you to breathe in and out a couple of times. You did just that. Every breath ached, but you’ve gotten used to it the last few days. The chestpiece was moved to the other side of your chest and you were asked to repeat the action again. You aren’t entirely sure what he’s expecting to hear over there, but again, what would you know?

It would seem he found whatever he was looking for and the stethoscope was discarded. His hands hovered over your ribcage, “I’m going to check your ribs, please let me know where it hurts at.”

You nodded and his hands began tracing over each rib. It didn’t take long for you to flinch and say, “Right there.” The process was repeated on every affected rib. All of them hurt and you said as much. Fortunately, Marco was extremely careful so it wasn’t anywhere near as painful as it could have been.

“I need to look at the wound now, so I have to unbutton your shirt. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay.” Whatever he was going to see from undoing your shirt was nothing compared to the Luffy-bathroom-incident. You would live.

Marco made quick work of the buttons, then came the bandages. Rather than sitting you up again to unravel them, he pulled out a pair of scissors and cut through them instead. An act of mercy in your humble opinion.

You trained your eyes on the ceiling, not at all wanting to see the wound. “Am I going to need to roll over so you can see the exit wound on my back?” You really hope he doesn’t.

There’s a brief bout of silence as he examines the now exposed hole in your chest. A choking level of stress builds in your chest at the mere idea of how uncomfortable and painful rolling over will be.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Seeing this is enough for me to work with.” Marco leaned back, “So, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Your heart fell into your stomach at the knowledge of there being bad news. He hadn’t told you anything yet and you already wanted to scream and cry. “Give me the good news first,” you needed at least a little bit of time to mentally prepare yourself for the bad.

“The good news is that I can heal your broken ribs and the wound today. It’ll take some time and we’ll have to break up the sessions so as to not shock your system, but I’m confident that we can have this healed up nicely by the end of the day.” He offered you a smile, but you could see that even he wasn’t happy about what he was going to say next.

“And the bad news?” You wanted to rip the bandaid off and have it be behind you.

“There is nothing I can do about your lung. My ability to heal others is much more limited than my ability to heal myself, recreating your absent lung is beyond my capabilities. I’m sorry.”

His words hung in the air heavily, and you were trying desperately to not start crying. The efforts were all in vain, and you quickly found that you couldn’t keep it in. Frustrated tears bullied their way out of your eyes and poured down your face as the gravity of your situation hit you hard.

This was it. This was the end of your time with the Straw Hat pirates. Your body was permanently changed in a horrible way that you would never recover from.

“I know that this wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but not everything is bad. With some breathing exercises and practice you’ll be able to lead a normal life.” Marco tried to comfort you, but his words were falling on deaf ears.

“Wh-What am I supposed to do now? I can’t be a pirate anymore if I can barely breathe right! I-I’m just going to be dead weight!” You gasped for breath as all of your bottled up fears burst out of you. Your chest burned and throbbed from the activity, begging for you to stop but you couldn’t.

“No one is saying that you can’t. Who knows, maybe you’ll make a miraculous recovery and surprise yourself,” Marco attempted to ease your worries.

“What are the odds of that?” You asked bitterly.

Marco didn’t answer immediately. It seemed like he didn’t have one. Instead, he placed his hands over your chest wound and wisps of blue fire spread across the area. The flames were warm, not hot. An uncomfortable sensation filled your chest and muscle fibers were forced to regrow faster than they should be able to. You chose to close your eyes and try to ignore it.

After a few minutes of this, the fire dispersed and Marco pulled away. You glance down and see that the hole is very much still there, though noticeably more shallow. Marco stood from the bed and searched for some new bandages to cover what was still exposed.

“You know,” he started, “if you would be interested, perhaps I could make more progress with you if I had more time.”

“What do you mean?” Was he planning on staying here for a longer time?

He returned with a roll of bandages and motioned for you to get ready to sit up. You did so begrudgingly, but were surprised to find the experience not as painful as it previously was. It still hurt, but at a much more manageable level.

“I can’t stay here very long, but if you were to come back with us to the Moby Dick, I may be able to make more progress with your recovery. I can’t guarantee that I’ll ever find a perfect fix for your condition, but if you don’t think you’ll be able to stay with your crew as you are now, then what would be the harm in relocating for a while?” Marco efficiently begins wrapping the bandages around where the injury is.

The proposition leaves you speechless. Could you… Could you do that? Would it truly be okay for you to leave your crew behind for another one, even if it was just temporarily? What would Luffy think? He didn’t even want to let you have this appointment by yourself, how would he react to you actually leaving?

Sensing your hesitation, Marco continues, “We won’t leave until tomorrow, you have time to mull over this decision.” The bandages are pulled tight and tied in a knot. “I know that Ace would be happy to have you there, I can send him in to talk to you if you would like.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m exhausted and would like to sleep for a while if that’s alright.” At this point, you don’t know if it’s your lack of stamina or stress that is wearing you out. What you do know is that you need some time alone to unpack all of this.

As well as to make a decision.

#yandere one piece #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #marco the phoenix #usopp #tony tony chopper #platonic yandere #emtynessinmyworld #x reader #reader insert #one piece x y/n #one piece x you

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vodika-vibes · 1 month

Note

hello!!! i would like to request something for the follower event please! i would like to request aquamarine with wrecker in fall please! i also want wrecker to be emotionally intelligent please! i feel like it’s something that’s very underrated abt him.

i was thinking about something where the reader is the medic to the bad batch, who has been recently heartbroken so horribly by an ex that she’s given up on love entirely. then wrecker comes along being his lovable, caring, and joyous self and the reader can feel herself falling for him. but because of her history with love, she tries to close herself off from him.

wrecker, who has been falling in love with the reader, can see that something is wrong, and tries to help but receives a cold shoulder. eventually wrecker confesses his feelings for the reader, and the reader tells wrecker that she feels the same but is scared about getting hurt again. wrecker reassures her that he is not going to break her heart, and tells her that love is about taking a leap of faith.

so the reader takes that leap of faith and it ends with the reader and wrecker having their first kiss!

absolutely no rush to get this finished btw! thank you so much, and i hope you have a wonderful day/night!!

I Can Fix That

Summary: Wrecker knows that the pretty Doctor has sworn off love. She’s never been shy about that, or about how awfully her ex treated her. But, he’s pretty sure that he can fix this.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 652

Prompts: Aquamarine - Healing Love

Warnings: Implications of a previous abusive relationship, though there's no details

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I needed to come up with a good idea, and I think I finally found one. Also, I couldn't add in all of the details, due to my self-imposed word limit, but the implications are there.

“You need some help, Doc?” Wrecker asks with a grin as he knocks on the door to the medbay on the Marauder, “I’ve got nothing to do and Hunter told me to make myself useful.”

She frowns at him, though Wrecker can tell it’s not because she’s annoyed with him, so much as the situation, “I’m actually all set here, Wrecker. So long as no one gets hurt, it’ll stay that way.”

“Well, you know what Tech is like.”

She pauses, and then makes a face and turns to pull some bandages out from over the sink, “Honestly, for such a smart man you’d think that he’d be able to pay more attention.”

Wrecker grins, “He does pay attention. To his project.”

“You’re not helping.”

He laughs, “Sorry, sorry.” He settles on one of the chairs and stretches his legs out, “In any event, as soon as Tech finishes the repairs we can get out of here. I’m not a huge fan of how humid it is.”

She shoots him an odd look, “I mean, I don’t like it either. But why do you dislike it so much?”

Wrecker’s grin widens and he smooths his hand over his head, “It’ll ruin my hair.”

A startled laugh falls from her pretty lips, and Wrecker’s wide grin softens. He’s glad that she’s not giving him the cold shoulder anymore, it makes flirting with her so much easier.

Her laughter subsides after a few moments, but a few giggles still escape her lips, “You’re such a goof, Wrecker.”

“Well, someone on this ship has to be funny, it might as well be me.” He folds his arms over his chest, “You know,” Wrecker says slowly after a moment, “We’re going back to Ord Mantell after this.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, there’s this nice little food stall, they sell these little pancake things with desserts in the middle-?”

“You mean crepes?” She asks.

“Yeah, I think that’s what they’re called.” He watches her closely, “You want to get some with me?”

She pauses, and there’s a flash of uncertainty on her face.

“No judgment if you don’t, Firefly.” Wrecker adds, his voice gentle, “I know that your ex and his actions make dating hard, make trusting people hard-”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Wrecker-”

He holds up a hand, “Let me talk, please?”

She settles, though the look of uncertainty lingers on her face.

“Thank you.” Wrecker pauses to collect his thoughts, “I love you. You’re…amazing. You’re smart and kind and funny and good. And you’re so afraid of being hurt that you refuse to even consider a relationship.”

She ducks her head, her hands clutching the hem of her jacket.

“And that’s fine. I have no idea of the kind of stuff your ex put you through, but I can guess.” Wrecker leans in, “This is me making sure that you know that I’m interested. And me letting you know that I’m a patient man and I can wait until you’re ready for a relationship.”

She blinks at him, startled.

“So, what do you say? Want to get crepes with me? Just as friends, no more.”

She’s quiet for a long time, long enough that Wrecker starts to think that she’s going to turn him down, but then her grip loosens on the hem of her jacket, “Do you remember if they had fruit crepes?”

And Wrecker grins, “You know, I think they do.”

“Well, in that case…” She won’t meet his gaze, “I do like crepes. And I like spending time with you.”

“Then it’s a date.” Her gaze snaps up, and he grins, “A friend date, but a date all the same.” Wrecker pushes to his feet, “Now, I have to go. I was supposed to be helping Tech.”

She blinks, and then laughs, “Wrecker!”

“What? You’re so much better to look at than my own brother. See you later, Doc!”

#star wars #tbb #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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astrophileous · 7 months

Note

Love Bugs was sooo good!!! Do you think they’d let Penelope plan a baby shower with the entire team? Maybe even a sex reveal and Penelope truly trying her best to not reveal it early, the others on Garcia duty to make sure she doesn’t let anything slip LOL

WAIT HOLD ON THAT IS SUCH A CUTE CONCEPT???

and I hope you don't mind me putting my own twist to this, but you literally just reminded me of this insta reel I saw a while back of a couple who was doing a sex reveal privately on the beach with a cake, and then the wife, very innocently pulled out the candle so that the husband could cut it, not realizing the cream sticking on the candle would prematurely reveal the sex to them 😭 now I just can't stop imagining Penelope accidentally doing the same thing KAJJSJEJ IT WOULD BE HILARIOUS

btw thank you so much for reading love bugs, I'm soooo happy you liked it <3333

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You couldn't have been less inclined towards the idea the first time Penelope had brought it to your attention.

The next time she did, Penelope knew better than to come empty-handed. Thankfully for her, JJ and Emily both seemed to be partial towards Penelope's brilliant suggestion.

"I think it'll be great, (Y/N)," JJ had said. "I never did one for Henry, but I helped a girlfriend host hers once. It was fun."

"And I, personally, am always down for a party." Emily grinned.

"But a gender reveal party, guys? Seriously?"

"It'll be great, Beets. Trust me," Penelope swore. "Plus, you don't need to worry your pretty little head with anything. You just sit back, relax, and let us three do the heavy liftings."

Eventually, with the right doses of persuasion and incessant pleading, you agreed to let them throw a sex reveal party for the baby; with one condition: you wanted to keep the whole thing small and simple.

But small and simple weren't exactly Penelope's forte.

JJ and Emily tried their best to keep the tech analyst in check during the entire planning process. It was bad enough that the two of them had to take turns monitoring Penelope to make sure she wasn't stepping out of any line, but when they finally received the envelope from your doctor containing the sex of the baby, Penelope grew even worse.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Penelope yelped when Emily's voice suddenly appeared beside her. The blonde scrambled to click a few buttons on her computer screen to close the page she was looking at before Emily could see what she was doing, but it was too late.

"Wasn't that the archive of the hospital (Y/N) goes to?"

"What? No. Of course not. Why? Did you think I hacked it? That's ridiculous, why would I ever hack--"

"Garcia," Emily's stern voice cut her off. "Did you seriously just hack a hospital's records to find out the sex of (Y/N)'s baby?"

Penelope's silence was all the confirmation that Emily needed.

"It won't happen again," the tech analyst murmured shamefully.

But it did, in fact, happen again.

"Pen?" JJ's eyebrows creased when, just a few days later, she spotted Penelope sitting behind the desk in her office.

"Yes? Oh, hi! Hey, how are ya? Nothing to see here!"

Penelope offered JJ a sheepish smile, one that was intended to conceal trouble but instead spoke of one. JJ's eyes squinted.

"What's that in your hand?"

"Oh, this?" Penelope raised her right hand, showing JJ the figurine of a duck dressed as Superman that she, for some reason, was holding. "It's my new buddy. I got him at a flea market last week. Isn't he cute?"

"I meant your other hand, Pen."

JJ raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Soon enough, Penelope surrendered to JJ's stare of death--the one that she had perfected since becoming a mother--and handed the envelop into JJ's awaiting palm.

"I'm sorry," Penelope said meekly, like a child being scolded after being caught with her hand in the candy jar.

A week before the party was supposed to be held, JJ had safely dropped the cake order at the bakery, along with the sacred envelope that you had entrusted in her care. In hindsight, it looked as though everything was finally going according to plan.

Until the D-day rolled around.

As Emily held down the fort back at Derek's and your shared place, JJ and Penelope resorted to cake duty. JJ let Penelope go into the bakery to grab the cake while she stayed in the car for a quick phone call. When Penelope didn't yet reappear after five minutes, JJ decided to follow her inside to see what was holding her up.

"Hey, Pen?" JJ called to Penelope, who was standing like a deer caught in headlights in the middle of the room. In front of her, the baker was holding the box of cake with visible confusion on his face. "What's wrong?"

"She's just been standing there like that. Frozen. Like she saw a ghost," the baker informed.

"Pen?"

"The apron," Penelope whispered.

"What?"

"The apron."

"What ap--oh no."

JJ's eyes widened almost comically when she finally registered what had Penelope looking so stunned.

"Sir," JJ began, "you didn't happen to be working on this cake before we came in, did you?"

"Yeah, I did. I was just finishing it up. Filling in the buttercream and adding some final touches."

JJ sighed. "So, you're saying that the buttercream on your apron is the buttercream you used to fill in the cake?"

JJ's question prompted the baker to look down at the apron he was wearing.

More specifically, at the colored buttercream that spoiled the sex of your baby.

"We've got a situation," JJ said to Emily as soon as she and Penelope found her in your kitchen half an hour later.

"What is it?"

"Me and Pen accidentally found out about the sex."

"You what?!"

"I found out about the sex. I know the sex," Penelope murmured from where she was standing behind JJ. "I know what it is. I know what--hey, you two!"

The three women swiveled their heads towards the doorway, seeing you standing there with Derek practically gluing himself to your back.

"Hi, girls. Everything alright in here?"

"Everything is fine! Why wouldn't it be?" Penelope chuckled nervously.

A frown appeared between Derek's eyebrows. "Babygirl, you okay?"

Penelope waved him off. "I'm fanta... bulous."

"Fantabulous?" Emily whispered.

"Pretty sure it's a combination of fantastic and fabulous." JJ whispered back.

You stared at Penelope in concern. "You sure you're okay, Pen?"

"I'm fine, Beets! Splendid, even! I'm just so happy to see the three of you! God, look at that. You're all so perfect together. My Beets, Chocolate Thunder, and your beautiful baby--"

"Okay!" JJ exclaimed, cutting Penelope off before she could spill the main surprise. "We've still got a lot of work to do here, so... go, both of you."

As soon as you and Derek were out of earshot, JJ said to Penelope, "Pen, you gotta calm down."

"I can't. Oh my God, I can't calm down. It's the knowing. I hate knowing secrets, I'm not good with them."

"It's only for one more hour," Emily reasoned. "You can do this. Just... take a deep breath."

JJ and Emily somehow managed to keep Penelope from spiraling any further, long enough for them to finally commemorate the main event of the night. Your living room was crowded with beloved and very familiar faces: members of the BAU and a few friends of yours and Derek's. The speakers were blasting "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire, and you stood in front of the guests with Derek to your side when Emily and Penelope finally brought out the cake.

"Ladies and gents, we're about to witness a very important moment in history," JJ announced to the room. "In a few minutes, we'll finally find out the sex of the newest member of the (Y/L/N)-Morgan's household!"

The crowd erupted in cheers. You felt Derek give your hip a squeeze.

"Does anyone care to share their guesses?" JJ asked.

Shouts of "boy" and "girl", and a very vague shriek of "twins", all piled on top of one another. JJ quickly gestured with her hands for the crowd to calm back down.

"Without further ado, I present to you, Derek Morgan and (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!"

As your guests exploded in a synchronized ovation, Derek pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. "You ready, Bug?"

"As long as you are, Mr. Morgan."

You and Derek each grabbed a knife from the table, but before the blades could touch the cake, Penelope's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait, let me remove those candles for you."

"No, Penelope!"

Emily's warning came too late.

The entire room held their breaths at the sight of the candles in Penelope's hand. The tech analyst darted her eyes in confusion before she realized what she had done.

"Oh no."

"Is that--" Derek's voice sounded lost in awe.

"Yes, it is," you breathed out.

"The cream, it's--"

"I know." A humorous chuckle escaped your chest as a lone tear fell down your cheek. "It's a blue buttercream. We're having a boy."

Derek didn't waste any second before gathering you in his arms. Around you, your crowds of friends celebrated along in a sequence of hoorays and applause. But even in the midst of that ruckus, you felt like there were no other people left on this world with you other than Derek and your baby.

Your son.

"Hey, Little Man," Derek whispered as his hand landed on your belly. "I can't wait to meet you."

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

Note

hello my love <3 can i request fluff with lockwood where y/n is sick and she also has injury on her hand (something like lucy's maybe?) and when lockwood wants to clean it she's not happyy about that 'cause she only wants to sleep and he's like "i'm your fully qualified doctor, remember? you have to listen to me, love", btw i absolutely adore your stories, keep writing cause you're amazingg, mwah <3

a/n: of course!!! domestic lockwood is the best in my humble opinion. and im so glad you like my stuff so much, love you my dear <3 also taking this as an opportunity to apologise for the terrible titles for most of my fics i spend ages thinking but can never think of something good lmao

warnings: minor injury detail gn reader

Perfect - Anthony Lockwood

The library is the warmest room in the house, and by far your favourite, so it's no surprise when Lockwood finds you there, curled up on your designated armchair close to dozing. He smiles at you as he steps in, carrying a tray of something or other that he places down on the little coffee table before sitting in his armchair.

There's something about him today that makes you want to laugh. Maybe it's the way he's been mothering you all day because you're ill. Maybe it's the lack of Anthony Lockwood professionalism he has today, what with his crinkled hoodie and pink fluffy socks - aren't those the ones George has been looking for? He's so unlike his usual self today, but also inadvertently just like himself. A walking anomaly.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks quietly, as if your ears may explode if he speaks too loud. "Any better?"

"No better than I did seven minutes ago," you say with a laugh. "Lockwood, you don't have to keep a constant eye on me. You've got things to do."

"One of which being to take care of you," he says. "Which reminds me, are you finally going to let me take a look at that cut on your arm? It needs cleaning."

"I trust you with my life, but I do not trust you with the first aid kit. You'll shove half a tube of Germaline on it. Besides, I want to go to sleep, and here is cosier than my room."

He gives you a look, but it's halfhearted. "You can sleep once I've cleaned it. I've brought you some of your favourite biscuits and a brew in return."

You lift your head from where it had laid on your arms. "Doesn't sound like a very fair trade for you."

"Ah, I'll cope."

"Well, it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm sure it's healed amazingly and then I'll be back to my wonderful self in no time."

"I'm not leaving until I've at least taken a look at it. Then after that, you can have your tea and go to sleep." His grin is dazzling then. It's the kind he always uses when he's trying to get his way. "I'm your fully qualified doctor, remember? You've got to listen to me."

If you could be bothered, you could push for him to leave you in peace, but your head feels like it's full of water and you want to go to sleep. So, begrudgingly, you shift so that your arm hangs over the armrest of your chair.

The gentleness of Lockwood's hands as he takes your arm and slowly, carefully peels off the plaster you haphazardly placed on shocks you. His fingers are soft, holding your arm as if it's a delicate thing that could break at any moment.

He takes a minute to just look at the gash on your forearm. It's no longer than your index finger, cutting diagonally across halfway up, and it's still oozing some blood. The plaster is covered in it, and he deftly throws it into the bin before taking his little first aid kit from the tray he brought in. Its original purpose was for you to use it on him whenever he got banged up on cases, which was more often than not, but there's something strangely special about him using it on you now. It makes you feel a little giddy.

"You got this from a glass door, right?"

You're acutely aware of his touch as he shifts his grip so as to clean the cut. "Yeah. George knocked me into it by accident. I'm surprised this is all I got out of it."

His reply comes in the form of a quiet hum. As he cautiously cleans the wound, you watch as his brows furrow a little with concentration, creasing a little line between them, and his top lip twitches a little bit. A little quirk, you've noticed, when he's particularly invested in something. Usually, it's the latest gossip rag, in which he always loses sight of the real world, but now it's you. A small flutter arises in your chest.

He wipes over a small part of the gash, and you suck in a sharp breath. The sound makes him falter, the wipe hovering an inch above your skin as he looks up at you.

For a moment, then, you forget about the pain. Through his thick lashes, his eyes are brimmed with worry and apologies, but after insistence that you're fine, he continues to clean the fresh blood away.

"Let me put the cream on the plaster," you murmur. "You'll put way too much on."

He smiles. "Who's the qualified doctor here?"

"In all honesty, Skull is probably better at this kind of thing than you are."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"Do."

But, even still, he passes you the tube of Germaline and a long plaster. A moment later, you pass it back, and with delicate hands, he places it over the gash. It stings a little, and you hiss at the sudden cold, but the feelings are gone before the minute is even over.

"Perfect," he says with a soft, private smile. "All sorted."

His hand lingers, still holding your arm, and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. It's as if the tiredness has just melted away into the cushions of the armchair and down into the floor with only his touch, and you yearn for him to not let go. To stay exactly where he is.

And, as if having read your mind, he does.

If someone were to walk in, the scene would be strange. You, curled up in your seat with your arm hanging over the armrest, head resting on your own shoulder, and Lockwood, holding your arm as if it's some valuable thing, and simply looking at you with those expressive eyes of his.

"How do you feel?" he asks. His voice is a little breathy.

You're trying not to focus on the feeling of his fingers slipping down your arm until they almost - almost - slot in between yours. You shift slightly so that your head is in a position that isn't causing a crick in your neck, and it only grants a better view of him. His dark hair glowing bronze in the firelight, the ever so faint freckles on his nose, the dip in the left corner of his lip that insinuates another smile.

"A little better." The words almost catch in your throat when his fingers curl around yours just so. They don't hold yours, but they're so, so close. You can feel his pulse - or is that yours beating wildly out of control? "Do you have any paracetamol?"

He takes a second to realise what you've just said, and his hand leaves yours as he rakes about in the first aid kit for the painkillers. Out of pure mothering ability, he pops two out of the packet and hands them to you along with your mug of tea. Not the nicest thing to swallow them down with, but it'll do.

"You need to be more careful on cases," Lockwood says.

"Tell that to George. He's the one who bumped into me." Then, you shrug. "I suppose I shouldn't have gone when I've got the worst head cold I've had in yonks."

A breathy laugh escapes his lips, and you notice how he's looking down at your hand.

It's a bold move, completely unlike you, but you reach for his hand, looping your fingers through his. His hand is warm and, yes, that's definitely your erratic pulse.

It takes a lot to catch Lockwood off guard, but that does the trick. For a moment, it's like he can't decide whether or not to look at your linked hands or at you, and you laugh at the sight of it.

"This is wholly inappropriate," he jokes. "Doctors and patients shouldn't do anything remotely like this."

You must be out of your mind entirely because you lean over and press a kiss to his knuckles. "What about that?"

The expression on his face reminds you of when the TV signal has gotten busted, and the four-person-army of Lockwood and Co, plus a glowing and crude Skull, are sitting around it angrily waiting for it to stop buffering. When the picture freezes, glitches a little bit, and buffers for even longer. You can almost see the buttons and wires in his mind, struggling to compute what you just did.

That's not to say you aren't the complete same. Truthfully, you shocked yourself with the kiss, and you sit here now, staring at the spot where your lips touched his skin.

You're ill, you remind yourself. Maybe he'll pass it off as delusion.

"Would you mind if I weren't your doctor for a little?"

Frowning a little, confused, you say, "No...?"

You've never seen a person move as fast as Lockwood does then. Before you know it, he's leaning over your entwined hands and his lips are brushing yours so softly, giving you room to move if it's something you don't want. But you do. You want it more than anything.

Everything seems to melt away at the moment you press your lips firmly onto his. The library, the fireplace filled with dancing orange flames, your horrible cold, the sting of anti-septic cream on your fresh cut. You're aware only of his lips on yours, his fingers twisted in yours, the warmth of his hand. Every nerve in your body feels as though it's about to combust. Your heart is practically beating through your chest. God, your hands are awfully sweaty.

Only a moment later, he pulls away, but his face stays so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your cheek.

You want to say something romantic, maybe something smart or snarky like you usually would, but all you can think of is, "You're going to get a cold now."

"It's just as well we have Skull, then, huh?" His laugh is soft and airy, and you could catch it between your lips if you so wished. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

His gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, and you're positive that if he weren't holding your hand right now, you'd implode in a burst of sparks and fireworks.

"Well, if you're so sure -"

Knowing where the sentence is going, he presses his lips to yours once more, and it's perfect.

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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niki-phoria · 1 year

Note

Hello there! If its okay can you do gn neutral reader x Chishiya,so the scenario is Chishiya seeing his campus crush on borderland and they are the new excutive member who is sarcastic, kind but mean as a joke and pretty intelligent and THEY ARE REALLY REALLY ATTRACTIVE.I hope it's not much if you do it, it will be a another motivation for me to shift tysm!

xiao's love of doctor chishiya gifs returns

pairing: chishiya x gn!beach executive!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: fluff, comfort (??) word count: 1.7k

warnings: kinda ooc chishiya, reader gets shot with an arrow (non descriptive), mentions of blood, implication of stitches, the person helping reader is supposed to be tatta but i couldn't figure out to bring it up (my boy deserves better), niragi, poor depiction of the beach executive scene, niragi, i am a niragi hater and a dori lover until the day i die, tumblr glitched and the original post i wrote for this didn't save and it scared the shit out of me lmao

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i couldn't really figure out how to add reader being chishiya's campus crush so it just starts with them knowing each other lmao. thank you for being so descriptive with reader's personality that's super helpful i hope you like it :))

additional note: i'm almost at 500 followers (HUGE thank you btw that's crazy) and i was thinking of doing an event thing ?? but i'm not sure if anyone would be interested so lmk ig lmao

requests are open !! read my rules first

“y/n?” you perk up at the familiar voice, quick to leave your conversation with ann and mira.

“chishiya!” he stands with his hands stuffed into the pockets of a white jacket. he’s wearing a pair of swim trunks and sandals. you can barely see his wristband from where the sleeve of his jacket ends. “i can never get rid of you, can i?” you tease.

“i suppose not.” chishiya leans back against the wall, a little uncomfortable at the stares of the other beach members in the room.

sensing his discomfort, you glance over your shoulder at them. “ah, i should give you a tour. have you picked a room yet?”

“i was hoping you could help with that.”

you tug chishiya along with you, guiding him through the different areas of the beach.

your shoulders brush against each other as you sit by the pool, dunking your legs in the cold water. “how long have you been here?” you ask.

“just a few days,” chishiya replies. “i’m still not entirely sure what’s going on.”

you glance behind you over your shoulder, dropping your voice to a whisper. “you know about the visas and the cards?” he nods, subtly leaning in a little closer. “hatter thinks we’ll be able to send someone back to the normal world once we collect all of the cards.”

“you don’t think so?”

you sigh. “i’m not sure. we only have a few cards right now, but something tells me it won’t be that easy.” despite the pool being completely empty, you lean in even closer to chishiya to whisper in his ear. “i don’t think we can trust the people here.” chishiya shivers. your breath is warm against his neck. he can feel his ears burn slightly when you pull away.

an unfamiliar feeling settles itself in his stomach. fear? dread? anxiety? you kick small ripplies into the water, slowly reaching over to hold his hand. despite all of the unknowns he’s sure you’ll be forced to confront, chishiya finds comfort in the feeling of your hand in his.

chishiya paces along the outside of the beach, continuously looking out at the horizon. “waiting for someone?” kuina asks, leaning back against the wall of the hotel. chishiya sighs, knowing her question is rhetorical.

“y/n’s not back yet.”

kuina pushes off of the wall, suddenly serious. “they’re not?” he shakes his head, looking out into the darkness again. “well, do you know who they were with during their last game? maybe someone knows something.”

“i haven’t seen anyone since i came back.”

“what about the other executives? have you told them?” chishiya doesn’t answer. “there has to be something we can do, right? what about-”

“hey!” in the distance they can barely see a man struggling to pull someone towards the beach. “help me! i need help!”

kuina is quick to react, rushing over to the man. chishiya watches her as she runs to meet him, gasping. “chishiya!” she yells. “it’s y/n!”

he can almost feel the blood in his body go cold. kuina shoves herself underneath your other arm, helping the man pull you to the beach. it feels like the world has stopped - everything frozen at this moment in time.

after what feels like forever chishiya manages to will his body to move, rushing to you. blood coats your side and jacket, seeping through your shirt. he presses a hand against your wound, supporting your weight.

“what happened?” he hopes his voice isn’t shaking.

“they had crossbows,” the man pants. “i had to pull it out but i think it went straight through. i didn’t know what else to do.”

“chishiya,” you whimper, clutching his body.

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “it’s gonna be okay.”

you grunt as he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting your body into his arms. you cling to his body, letting him carry you into the beach’s basement. he gently sets you on a metal table before frantically searching through the room for medical supplies. kuina leans over you, pressing a towel against your side. you wince at the pressure, tears stinging your eyes.

“sorry,” she whispers. “i’m sorry.”

chishiya takes over for her soon after, moving the towel to the side. “this is gonna hurt,” he warns. you grab his hand, squeezing it.

“i trust you.”

the pain is sharp and sudden. it feels like someone is pressing on your chest, preventing any air from entering your lungs. the ceiling above you blurs into a mix of blue lighting and gray metal before it all goes black and the world disappears.

the pain has subsided greatly when you wake up. your vision is blurry as you blink a few times, trying to clear your vision. sunlight shines through open curtains, illuminating the hotel room you lay in. it’s clean - cleaner than your room. the sheets feel nice against your skin.

you grunt, forcing yourself to sit up. your body aches as you lean back against the headboard. the door opens quietly before it closes. a man sighs before he enters. “chishiya?” your voice is raspy when you try to speak. your throat stings.

“y/n,” chishiya rushes to your side, opening a bottle of water and handing it to you. you gulp it down quickly, desperate for any liquid. “how are you feeling?”

“sore.”

chishiya takes the empty bottle, sitting down next to you. he reaches out to grab your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles. his voice is quiet when he speaks again. “you really scared me, you know.”

“about me dying? come on, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” you squeeze his hand. “chishiya,” you whisper. he looks down at you. “i’m okay. you saved me.”

“i know, i just…” he sighs, staring back down at your hands. you intertwine your fingers together, a silent way of encouraging him to continue. “i can’t lose you. you were back late, and then when you make it here you were hurt. and then you passed out and…” chishiya takes a deep breath, tension from his shoulders relaxing a little. “i don’t want to see you hurt. i love you.”

“‘shiya,” you bring a hand up to his face, wiping away a stray tear he hadn’t realized had fallen. you lift his chin, forcing him to look at you. “i know everything will be okay as long as i have you. i love you too.”

chishiya gives you a small smile, pulling your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles. “don’t ever do this to me again.”

you chuckle. “i won’t. i promise.”

you pull the chair out between chishiya and niragi, taking your seat at the executives table. arisu stands uncomfortably at the other side of the room, watching you. chishiya raises his hand, waving at him. you playfully elbow his side. “he’s nervous, leave him alone.”

“i’m just waving,” he retorts.

“you looked just like him when you got here,” you tease. “give him a break.”

mira, ann, and kuzuryu sit across from you. on your right, next to niragi, aguni sits at the edge, right next to hatter.

“we are here to discuss the potential promotion of our very own, arisu!” hatter enthusiastically introduces, pointing over at the man. arisu shifts uncomfortably at the attention.

niragi scoffs. “are we really trusting him to be an executive?”

“we’re trusting you to be an executive.” niragi glares at you, reaching for his rifle before ann interrupts.

“he was able to win a seven of hearts. we haven’t seen that card before.”

“it’s a seven of hearts,” mira exaggerates. “if arisu was able to win the game, then, we should be able to send someone back to the normal world soon.”

“she’s right,” kuzuryu says, leaning back in his chair. “heart games are the most difficult.”

“i vote for promoting him.” you say. under the table, chishiya reaches over to grab your hand. “he won a heart game we’ve never seen before. people have been promoted for less.”

“why don’t we test him? send him into a game with an executive and see how he operates under the pressure.” ann suggests. hatter points at her, tutting.

“now that’s a good idea. any objections?” after a few seconds of silence, hatter stands. “perfect! this meeting has been concluded.”

chishiya’s hand remains in yours as you leave the room, slinking through the various corridors of the hotel you’ve found to a private area. “what are you thinking about arisu?” he asks.

“he won a heart game and you said he was good in tag. he could be a useful ally.” he hums in agreement.

the fire burns around you as you re-enter the remains of the hotel you used to call your home. a man stands in the center of what used to be the lobby, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“chishiya?” you call, avoiding the heat as you step closer. he glances over his shoulder at you, picking something up off of the table. you lean over to see what he’s holding. it’s a card. the ten of hearts.

“you were right, you know,” he says, throwing the card back onto the table. he smiles when you cock your head at him in confusion. “when i first arrived, one of the first things you said to me was that i shouldn’t trust the people here. you were right.” chishiya steps closer, intertwining his hands with yours. “i’m starting to think collecting the cards was pointless after all.”

the flames around you only grow stronger. “as much as i’d like to bask in your praise, we really need to leave,” you say, reaching over to grab his arm. “let’s go. kuina’s waiting.” he hums, pressing a kiss against your temple as he follows you out.

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knight-of-flowerss · 1 year

Note

The hobbit

Thorin x hobbit reader

Reader is bilbos older badass sister who kills anything and anybody with her cast iron pan.

So we know dwarfs don’t get pregnant much, an basically rare to have girls, so how would the others react to reader (everyone lives au) telling thorin she’s pregnant after the battle, now hobbits are small so one imagining they have have up to 4 kids at once and be ok, probably even expected.

So when the dwarfs and surprise her (and bilbo the soon to be uncle along with lady Dis) with her finished nursery, and after the excitement, reader asks were the rest of the cribs are!!!

…

The dwarfs ask what she means and she an bilbo say that hobbits give birth to more then one child, so I wanna see there reactions (including Dis) when reader says she’s pregnant with 4 children I wanna know the reactions of the grate thorin and the fearsome Dwalin!

Bounes if you add when the babies are born (3 girls and 1 boy ) and the reaction of the company

thorin screaming “I can’t hold them all I need more arms or bigger ones!! 😭😭😭”

OMG YES I LOVE THIS SMMMMM ITS SO CUTE AHAHAHHA!!!! I opened this at like 10 o’clock at night so I was tired so I’ve don’t it today after school so I had more time and it didn’t sound loopy 💀

This hasn’t been spell checke btw!

Masterlist

Happy Ending

Anyone’s name: this colour and in bold

Thorin Oakenshield x Hobbit!Reader

You’re little brother Bilbo has always really only kept to himself, occasionally having relatives (but never distant because he doesn’t trust them around his cutlery) around Bag End.

You were his daring older sister, never afraid of anything, selfless, badass. You were staying at your brothers while your burrow got a new door. You offered to help but the other hobbits refused as they were paying you a favour.

You and your brother sat in shock as twelve dwarfs and a wizard wrecked Bilbo’s house. But after the table was set you soon forgot all about it, your brother on the other hand..

When a dwarf named Thorin showed up you couldn’t help but stare at him. He was your height, had long, dark locks and eyes so beautiful that you could get lost in them with just one glance. And when they proposed Bilbo come on this journey with them you immediately invited yourself along.

The journey was harrowing, fighting off ogres, goblins, orcs. Then there was the ‘final battle’ against Azog and his army. It was tough but it was no match for the dwarves and their resilience.

They fought with all there might, defeating the army and Azog and returning home safely.

For almost half a year now, you and Thorin had been married. Half a year of pure joy. And surprises.

You felt sick as a dog for almost 3 weeks now, your body weak. Dís, Thorin’s sister, suspected something was wrong and encouraged you to go and see a doctor of some kind. It had been confirmed though that it wasn’t any fatal illness, nothing of the sort.

You and Thorin where actually expecting.

The two of you were estatic, jumping for joy, but a little bit inside of you was sacred, terrified even. You knew what this meant. You knew you had to push out multiple of the little creatures miracles. But you would go through all that pain for Thorin.

As the months passed your belly grew and grew, never stopping, even for just a moment. The dwarves and your brother offered to help build a nursery for the little lad inside you (they assumed it was a boy because of the very low chances of a little baby girl popping out), at first you tried to help them but they just brushed you off and told you to relax, so, you hesitantly accepted the offer.

While they moved everything into the nursery and decorated it, you took a nap (which ended up being like 3 hours but we don’t talk abt that-). When you woke up you saw Bilbo and the side of you, reaching to wake you up.

You jumped as you hadn’t expected him to be there.

“Bilbo! What are you doing here?!” You whispered-shouted through gritted teeth. “Uh- the nursery- um, it’s ready.” Bilbo stutters, clearly shocked that you wanted to shout at him.

Bilbo helped you up as you where weaker and your belly put more and more pressure on your back.

You stood at the doorway as Dís and Bilbo pushed the doors open with big smiles. In the room stood Oin, Glóin, Dori, Ori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dwalin, Balin, Fíli, Kíli and stood in the middle with a soft smile one his face was your dear husband, Thorin.

You slowly stepped into the room looking around. Little toys on shelves, a play area with a fur rug, a changing station, one crib and more.

When you had finally reached your lover, you turned to him with a raised eyebrow and a cocked head.

“One crib? Really?”

Thorin looked a tad confused, “what do you mean my love? What is the babe supposed to rest in?”

“I think you mean babes.” You replied with a smirk. A bunch of ‘eh?’s where muttered around the room while Bilbo suppressed a chuckle.

Thorin sat with a half confused, half shocked face. “Whatever do you mean my love?..”, “you do know Hobbits have multiple children, do you not?”

Thorin’s eyes widened as your words registered in his head. “What-..”

The pregnancy was terrible, horrendous even, but your spirits where high when Thorin was by your side. You had given him four children, 3 girls and a boy.

(I got the last two names from a D&D website for dwarf names cus I couldn’t think of owt 💀)

Your little boy was named Thráin (III) after his father. Your first girl was called Dísa after Thorin’s sister Dís. Your second girl was named Arrin, meaning ‘exalted’ and ‘lofty’ and your last little girl was named Asta, meaning ‘divine strength’ , ‘love’ and ‘star-like’, she was named this due to her being the hardest out of them all to give birth to and that you and Thorin nearly lost her.

You and Thorin are sat on a couch in the children’s room with a fur blanket o top of yous while your four little toddlers play with eachother with wooden and plush toys.

You lean your head on Thorin’s shoulder as you look at your children and then up at your lover, who was already staring at you. “I am so grateful for the children you have brought me, love. You have made me a father, you a mother and all of us a family, I am forever in your debt my queen, I love you.”

You smiled up at your husband, tears welling up in your eyes as you wear a dopey smile on your face, “I love you too my King,”, you lean up and kiss your husband, you couldn’t ask for a better life.

An amazing husband, a gentle son and three graceful daughters, you loved them all so much, you finally had your happy ending.

I hope you like this cus i finished this while I was ill 😭

@thethreeeyed-raven

#Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin #thorin Oakenshield x reader #Thorin x reader #Thorin fanfic #Thorin Oakenshield fanfic #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic

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versegm · 10 months

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If you read indie books play indie games listen to indie musik or generally appreciate any form of art by lesser-known people my challenge for you is to comment on this post with at least one recommendation for a work you wish was better-known. The more obscure it is the better.

For now here are some of mine:

Love Letter - 18+ Trans-Gay Zine. It's all in the title, a short zine on being a trans dude who loves other dudes.

Inuit Uppirijatuqangit - ᐃᓄᐃᑦ ᐅᑉᐱᕆᔭᑐᖃᖏᑦ. "A hidden object game in which users explore 4 unique areas in and around an Inuit community." Short game to learn native myths & sayings.

Longsummer Night, an anthology of monster romances. It's got like fifteen stories there's got to be SOMETHING you'll like in here (personally I would have paid full price for "Labris" alone this shit blew my tits off)

Player Two is Unprepared, a one-page satyrical RPG making fun of ya boy Ready Player One. It's fucking hilarious I was giggling the entire time I read this.

The Unicorn's Beard, a short story about a doctor being hired to take care of the queen's unicorn.

Pine Sap, a poetry collection. "That's just the heart talking, you can never trust those. pick a more stable organ to listen to, like the spleen, or the gallbladder” lives rent-free in my head.

A Strip of Velvet, a 18+ monster romance featuring hunters and old gods.

Fire and Wolf, the book I won't shut the fuck up about, YA sci-fi/fantasy about kids accidentally pulling an NPC out of a VR videogame.

Btw if yourself dabble in creative endeavors you can self promote on this post too go wild.

#momo if you wanna rec underhero and other games now's your chance

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ceasarslegion · 5 days

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I absolutely want to know the details of the needle abortion claim please

*end of the world voice* hokay, so.

In conservative catholic school sex ed, they taught us many egregiously false things. I have a list. The clitoris didnt exist, masturbation gives you cancer, having sex before marriage is like being a piece of tape that gets passed around and the more people it gets stuck to and taken off of, the more it loses its "bonding power." Babies born out of wedlock are more likely to have birth defects, STIs are gods punishment for being horny for anyone whos not your spouse, AIDS is a "sinner's disease" and a divine punishment against sodomy (that one was fun!), our teacher once told us that we didn't need to learn about contraceptives because they were sinful, just family planning so that sex would ONLY EVER BE FOR PROCREATION!!! And of course, the needle abortion claim

The claim was tied into another false claim that fetuses are like, fully-formed tiny babies that just get bigger as time goes on, because of course life begins at conception and fully-formed babies literally hatch from human eggs and thats why theyre called eggs (you think i am being sarcastic. They actually said this). So when abortions are performed, it's when a doctor takes a needle full of "poison" (never specified what the poison is btw, just poison) and injects it through the mother's womb, into the baby's brain, and lets it slowly and painfully die as the poison kills its brain. And then the baby is removed by C-section.

I remember this one so vividly because i went home and told my center-left but extremely feminist parents about it, upon which they went "HI WHAT-" and immediately pulled me from the sex ed class and started sending me to school with actually accurate sex ed homeschooling curriculums to work on at the library while my classmates were in sex ed. They didnt actually have to do this, my parents are just IB-certified high school teachers so any gap in education didnt sit right with them, and they knew which resources they could trust to make a way better lesson plan for me. But the bar was at the center of the earth after that. I didnt go to their school at this point because i was in junior high

And the catholic sex ed didnt stick much considering i grew up to be a world-class whore, but according the protestants thats the whole deal right

#ramblings

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moongothic · 2 months

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To be honest I can kinda see how having a hook instead of a hand prosthetic has its benefits

Hook is easier to mantain than a hand with lots of small moving pats, especially when you don't know shit about it. If something happens to it and it gets broken, it's much easier to replace a hook, even with all layers and poisons

And depending on when in time Crocodile lost his hand he may have just got used to it already

But also yeah, Crocodile is just the type of guy to choose a hook instead of a new hand because looks and aesthetics lol

(sorry for typos btw)

Crocodile's hook is kind of fun because it's a reflection of so many things in the story. Like there's the in-universe lore and character stuff we can look at, but also we can look at it from a meta perspective

Like we know Oda wanted to give certain important characters in the story the Iconic Pirate Traits; the peg leg for Zeff, the hook for Crocodile and an eyepatch he has seemingly been saving up all these years for a special someone (my money's on Mr Burns but that's a different subject). And so Crocodile having the iconic hook is a part of an old pirate-y "vision" Oda wanted to fulfill with One Piece, an OG "goal" from waaay back in the day

But another thing is that Crocodile is very much from The Olden Days of One Piece, more specifically, very much pre-what I'd call the sci-fi era of OP. I'd say One Piece started truly dwelling deeper into that genre and its tropes during Punk Hazard, but Oda didn't even really dip his toes into it until the CP9 Saga (with the introduction of Franky and the namedropping of Doctor Vegapunk). Sure, Oda did already hint at the existence of Vegapunk and his scientific developments back in Alabasta (when Miss Merry Christmas explained that Lassoo was a gun that had eaten a Dog Dog Fruit, this being "the Latest Science from the Grand Line"*), but One Piece was still very much in its more classical fantasy element/genre at this point in the story, so the science fiction that was to come years and decades later was not even present at this point

*(Thinking about it, honestly, how the fuck did Mr 4 get his hands on Lassoo if Lassoo was created by Vegapunk?? Was he a gift from Vegapunk/the WG to Crocodile, maybe????? That Crocodile just secretly gave away to Mr 4????)

In other words, in hindsight it might seem odd Crocodile wouldn't have taken advantage of his position as a Warlord and gotten a prosthetic arm to replace his hook. But Crocodile is a One Piece character from a different era in the story, when advanced prosthetics, cyborgs, robots, clones and so much more were nothing but a twinkle in Oda's eyes. So expecting Crocodile to have lived up to the sci-fi future One Piece wasn't originally going to even get to would be unreasonable.

But the fun thing is that we can actually look at Crocodile and his silly little hook, and spin it in a way that does actually complement his character. We can find in-universe reasons for him to have stuck to a hook over an advanced prosthetic, and they make sense. The most obvious would of course be that Crocodile does not trust anyone. It would be very much unlike him to go to Vegapunk and/or the World Government requesting to be given a prosthetic, because that would mean 1) Leaving himself vulnerable for a period of time so that Vegapunk could actually give him a prosthetic (dangerous) 2) Knowing the WG they would not just give out something like that for free, surely they'd want something from Crocodile in exchange. And, while we know what would become of Kuma eventually (a fate so cruel I'm sure even Crocodile could not have imagined) I'm sure he could have suspected the WG could want to use him for a science experiment or two, something I'm sure Crocodile would never have agreed to. Or maybe the WG/Vegapunk would've wanted Crocodile to pay them an obscene amount of money in exchange for a prosthetic, and/or have him do some other favors. Whatever the case, I'm sure none of these options would have seemed worth it in his mind.

And yeah, what you said.

Maintaining and taking care of a hook would be easier, like if Vegapunk's prosthetics ever broke or malfunctioned for any reason Crocodile would have to make a horrifically long hike all the way from Alabasta to Marijoa, cross the Red Line (to be fair his Shichibukai Status would allow him to go over which would be more convenient than passing through Fishman Island), go to Punk Hazard (or Egghead later on), and then hike aaall the way back to Alabasta again. And Vegapunk's inventions didn't always work as intended, the man had to refine and develop his creations to get them to work the way he wanted them to.

So if the option get a prosthetic was ever brought up to Crocodile by the WG like 10+ years ago, he might've been far more cynical about Vegapunk's ability to actually create a decent prosthetic that worked and wouldn't malfunction/have issues etc. And as you suggested, by that time he probably would have become used to his hook, to the point that he didn't mind keeping it.

And yeah, it would be just a big ol' Luffyism if he preferred the giant, golden, gaudy-ass hook

#Moon posting #Asks #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #To be fair as a sharp pointy thing the hook IS good for intimidating people.#Like the size of it is pretty inconsistent as is the height of Crocodile in the actual art but in theory #Like. The size of just the base of that hook is fucking massive (and indeed the base is great for pludgeoning people too)#It just. Like the hook just works for Crocodile (because it's Crocodile) and I love that. Like the writing is so good there

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