#it’s fine they’re over there doing their thing

[reidsdimples]

Feverish

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+ ❤️‍🔥

Spencer can’t keep his hands off of you in his fever induced delirium.

Inspired by a scene from The Tearsmith (on Netflix)

“What happened?” You ask Morgan who’s got Spencer’s arm draped over his shoulder.

Spencer is out of it, delirious, coated in sweat. Yet he grins at you.

“Popped for the flu, probably from those kids earlier this week,” Morgan answers as he puts Spencer in the passenger seat of your car.

“I knew the flu shot was a waste of time,” Spencer muses. “It’s an educated guess at best as for what strain will circulate through the population,” he scoffs and shoves on sunglasses.

“Wonderful,” you groan.

“You’ve already been sick this season, you’re probably fine,” Spencer mumbles and lulls his head back in the seat.

“I think that’s why he said to call you,” Morgan smiles.

“Well, it’s great to see you again. Stay safe,” Morgan hugs you by way of farewell.

Taking care of your sick ex boyfriend on your long anticipated three day weekend was not high on your bucket list. But here you were.

You drop into the car next to him and he’s already fast asleep. Feeling his forehead, you confirm that he’s burning up.

You and Spencer had ended things amicably four weeks ago. Your crazy schedule as a labor and delivery nurse didn’t mesh well with his chaotic FBI job. It didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. Perhaps that made seeing him so sick that much harder.

“Come on,” you help him from the car and into your house.

He stumbles up the front steps but you’re able to hold him up.

“Sorry, dizzy,” he murmurs.

“It’s okay,” you place your hand at the center of his chest, pushing yourself under his arm further to support his tall frame. The heat coming off of him could almost burn you.

You had never been more grateful that you opted for a one floor house. You imagined getting him up a flight of stairs would be impossible.

“Here,” you sit him on the edge of your king sized bed but he just flops onto his side, tucking his face into your pillow. He breaths in deeply, you can hear how congested he is.

You hurry to your medicine cabinet to get him a concoction of fever reducers.

“Take this,” you sit him up.

He barely opens his eyes, just groggily obeys and trusts the pills you’re giving him. He knows you’d never do anything to hurt him.

You wipe the water from his lips gently. He purses his mouth as though to kiss the pad of your thumb longingly.

You slowly undo the buttons of his shirt, you needed to cool him down. He’s drenched in sweat.

“Sit up,” you pull him up with a hand on the back of his neck and push the shirt off of his shoulders. Your eyes trace his body longingly, but only for a moment.

You gently lay him back down and start undoing his converse so he can get more comfortable. He groans at the movements as you tug the shoes off and discard them, adoring his mismatched socks.

You brush his hair from his forehead and prompt him to open his eyes. He does but they’re heavy with fatigue.

“You’re going to be fine Spence, just tell me if you need anything,” you whisper.

You gently caress his cheek, his eyes fluttering closed. You relax your hand in the center of his bare chest, unable to help how drawn to him you are. You missed him. His lean body with the thin sheen of sweat had your heart fluttering. Touching him was too much, too overwhelming. You sigh and stand from the bed.

His arm wraps around your waist and he tugs you weakly back into the bed. You fall half onto him and half next to him.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs and buries his face in your stomach like you’re all he’ll ever need. You run your hands through his long hair and hold him close to comfort him. It doesn’t even bother you that his hair is damp, you just want to help him.

He pulls you more onto him and twists his hands into your shirt. You’re nearly straddling him now, leaning over him as he groans and begs for you to be closer.

“Spence,” you warn.

He nudges his face into your abdomen, between your breasts. He’s so out of it you doubt he’s even aware of his actions. His mouth clamps over your nipple which is hardening through your shirt. This is so wrong, but it feels so fucking good.

Your body reacts to him, your hips grinding down against his. You can’t help it.

Your tank top rides up and his mouth trails sloppily against your now exposed skin, causing you to suck air through your teeth harshly. He’s kind of kissing you, but more seemingly needing to touch you with his mouth. He leaves moist trails of kisses against your stomach. He grapples at your body, he’s needy, he’s panting. He’s whimpering against you.

He’s burning up.

“Shhh, Spence,” you sink down next to him and nestle into the crook of his arm.

You push away your arousal. That was not happening right now.

Besides, clear headed Spencer wouldn’t touch you that way after breaking up.

“Need you,” he moans.

“Not right now baby,” the nickname slips out. It was habit.

His buries his face in the crook of your neck, he’s breathing hard as his hand trails down your body. He digs his nails into the soft skin on your hips and squeezes lovingly. His fingertips move down the plane of your stomach and graze just under the edge of your waistband but he goes no further. You take in the sight of his large hand on your body again, those fingers, the way the muscles and veins move as he does. Your traitorous pussy clenches around absolutely nothing. Ugh.

He begins to kiss the soft spot of your neck and you can’t help but to tilt your head to give him better access. His hand moves up to squeeze your breast, pulling a moan from you. God you needed him so bad. But he was so sick. His desperation for you was driving you mad.

You hear him shudder as a chill washes over him. But he ignores it, moving so his laying on you, kissing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. His eyes are still closed, heavy with sickness. But he slides his strong arms under you to hold you even closer to him as he continues to kiss and sucking at your neck. He nudges your tank top down and pulls your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Ah, Spencer. Baby,” you writhe beneath him, but he’s got you pinned.

He kisses you until he can’t anymore, until his grip on you grows weaker and his mouth lingers on you longer.

He grows tired and rests his head on your chest. He keeps you beneath him, most of his body weight laying between your legs. His head rests on your stomach as he starts to doze off. His warm breath fans against your skin.

You push your hand into his hair to keep him right where he is. He’s absorbing your body heat, his breathing beginning to slow.

A content sigh escapes his chest and he finally falls asleep.

You can still feel the ghosts of his hands and lips, messy and needy on your body. It’s like he was devouring you, like you were the only thing that could save him. He was absolutely out of his mind, acting on instinct and primal need despite being sick. It’s like he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #mgg pics #dr reid #spencer reid one shots #spicy spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid smut #Spencer reid cute #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid long hair #Jesus Reid

[aestrayla]

cherries or peaches? pt. 2 ft. obey me! datables

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! datables x f!reader

cw: HIGHLY suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (sweetheart), fondling, groping, grinding/humping, semi-public but no sex, licking, stripping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.4k

a/n: thank u so much for the love on the first part, im so happy to be able to write these hcs, they’re such a fun idea. i got a bit carried away and some of these turned into half-ish fics but i hope u enjoy this version just as much as the first ♡

diavolo loves ass. the end.

just kidding.

ever since arriving in the devildom, student council meetings had always been a bore to you. you were never able to understand the complex topics of the “worldly problems” discussed, which often led to you staring out into space.

but ever since you got close to diavolo, things had changed.

“keep it down, y/n,” diavolo whispered through clenched teeth, as he kept a beaming smile glued to his face.

you let out a peeved groan. how the hell were you supposed to keep quiet when he kept rocking you back and forth on his lap like this?

despite your squirming, his hands never left you as he pushed and kneaded at your ass under the table. his hard-on evident as it ground against your clit, eliciting hushed whimpers from your lips.

in many ways, doing this was beyond worse than just zoning out, one wrong move and the whole student council would probably never look you in the eye again.

to make matters worse, diavolo insisted that meetings can’t start unless you were up here, in his lap, at all times.

“dia, i can’t do this anymore,” you whimpered under your breath.

“it’s almost over soon, sweetheart. just a little longer ‘n then i’ll make you feel good, hm?”

it might not be obvious at first, but barbatos loves boobs.

hearing that he was the “greatest pastry chef in all three worlds” has always been something that intrigued you. it wasn’t until you tried them for yourself that you realised that this statement was far from being a lie.

it was only a few weeks ago that you asked him to teach you a few of his recipes, you had never seen so much delight in his eyes. “oh that would be great, y/n! i’ve always been looking forward to the day you’d ask me so.”

as you slam the door to the oven, a gust of the hot air blows against your face, “how long should these be in the oven for, barbs?”

“thirty minutes should be fine. do you mind adding some of that sugar over there into this bowl?” you set the oven timer to thirty minutes before scurrying over with a measured bowl of sugar, pouring it into the bowl of fresh cream.

“perfect, could you whisk up this cream for me while i go find the vanilla?”

“sure.” he hands you the whisk before poking his nose through the cupboards in search of vanilla.

as you were whisking, you let your mind wander. gosh, i can’t wait to try this when it’s done… but dang i lowkey wonder when he’s gonna let me in his pants already… a few wet splatters across your chest had snapped you back to focus, “oh shit— i spilt it on me!”

the clank of the whisk dropping to the countertop had barbatos rushing towards you.

“oh goodness me, you’ve made a mess!”

“i know… fuck i’m sorry. i’ll just get a tea towel and wipe—”

before you could finish your sentence, barbatos had stopped you. his body crowding up against yours as he leaned in. holding you by your waist, you could feel his kitten licks swipe against your chest, even reaching as far down to the cleavage of your boobs.

you started to feel hot and dazed as the sweet aroma drifted through the kitchen, while he started to suck harshly against your skin, fingers creeping up to caress you’re boobs. soft pants began to leave your mouth as his tongue worked across your chest, but before it could escalate any further, he had pulled away.

as he stepped back, wiping the corner of his lips, you were left completely flustered, “oh wow, the cream without the vanilla tastes really good, you might just have a talent for baking y/n!”

“uh-huh…” you muttered, staring at him dumb-found and wide-eyed.

simeon is secretly a big fan of boobs, so today was a big treat for him.

it was the weekend, he had scored a pair of free tickets to the amusement park, and of course decided to bring you along. it was a leisurely day however, the rides and attractions he decided to do were almost too tame for your excitement.

dragging him along, you spot an attraction that seemed to catch your eye. handing two tokens to the employee, you quickly rushed into the tank, simeon freezing, clearly stunned and confused about what was about to happen. “hey y/n, what’s going on?!”

taking a seat on the tiny platform you point to the target beside you, “can you hit a bullseye?” you winked.

the employee hands simeon a ball, “you’ve got three tries, buddy.” after a moment of hesitation, he throws the ball, hitting the center of the target with a loud smack.

you let out a small shriek before getting submerged into the tank of water. “oh my— Y/N!” simeon rushes towards the tank, quickly pulling you out from the water. you let out sharp breaths before giggling, “your aim is amazing!”

“is this your idea of fun?!” his hands reach up to hold both sides of your face, turning it from one side to the other. “you’re not hurt are you?”

you smile sweetly, flattered by his concern, “i’m fine simeon, it was fun, really.”

he sighs, “good, alright.” his eyes travel over your body checking for any scrapes before widening at the sight of your chest. the water had soaked your white shirt completely, revealing that you were wearing nothing underneath. your round nipples were perked up from the cold water while your shirt was clinging onto your wet skin.

gasping even louder than before, in a flimsy last-minute attempt to cover you up, he slaps his hands over each of your boobs and although it works in his favour, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“don’t laugh y/n! we need to get you a new shirt, or at least a sweater!”

you pull him towards you by his collar, your lips mere inches away from touching, “so are you gonna help me take this one off first?” your purr.

his hands race to cover his reddened face, “w-wait that’s not what i—!” upon realising your boobs are on display again, he slams his hands back over them, “y/n!” he whines.

two hours in, and it was blatantly obvious to solomon that this tutoring session was going nowhere.

you weren’t understanding any terms or concepts of the topic at hand and with a week to go before your final, it seemed like solomon was more worried about this than you were. surely it isn’t because you’re too distracted sitting in his lap, right?

he clears his throat, “how about this…” you slowly lift your head up from the palm of your hands, clearly distressed about your upcoming failure. “for every question you get incorrect, you remove a piece of clothing.”

you raise your brows, intrigued, “and for every question i get right, you remove a piece of clothing?” you stare back at him.

“exactly, and for that answer…” he slowly shrugs off his blazer and places it behind his chair, “i’ll remove this.”

in hopes of this becoming a motivation for you, he began to quiz you with a mini questionnaire. “what are the three ingredients used to make the elixir of cerebral stimulation?”

you internally face palm because you knew jack shit about brewing potions, “uhhh… newt legs, unicorn hair, and frog mucus?”

solomon clears his throat ubruptly. “um, no. the correct answer is powdered unicorn hoof, bittergrass root, and caladrius blood.”

you look down in embarrassment before removing three pieces of clothing. only four minutes in and you’re left in nothing but your underwear and bra.

“last and final question, what covered the devildom when it was first created?”

“…darkness?”

“…unfortunately, that is incorrect. the correct answer is a forest.”

you groan. you haven’t gotten a single question correct and embarrassment was evident as your face was flushed. you turn to face solomon, “at this point, why don’t you choose what i take off?”

your pretty face staring up at him, teary and doe-eyed had him swooning. slowly standing up and pushing your back down onto the table, he stared deliriously at you. papers were scattered everywhere and textbooks were crumpled open. your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands gently pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders.

staring at your bare chest he murmurs, “i’m obsessed with these,” before diving straight in.

a/n: haven’t written in about 5 months so excuse how rusty my writing has gotten.. but nonetheless, thank for reading this far, luv you all ♡

©2024 aestrayla. do not modify, copy, translate or share.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfic #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me imagines #obey me nightbringer #obey me diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos #barbatos x reader #obey me simeon #simeon x reader #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #obey me hcs

[tonguepiercedanyway75]

Thigh lover - Matty Healy

mdni 18+ in which you tell Matty you’re obsessed with his thighs and what you’ve always wanted to do with them.

content warning: thigh riding (obviously), male masturbation,

The sun shines brightly as you and Matty cruise down the highway. The car's low rumble is a comforting background, and you can't help but watch Matty as he drives. His eyes are on the road, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh.

You’re mesmerized by the sunlight on his tattoos. The tightness of his pants around his thighs accentuates every line and muscle. You trace the contours with your eyes, feeling a warm flush.

You’ve always had a thing for thighs, especially Matty’s. When he’s wearing jeans like today, they’re even tighter bringing his crotch and thighs to bear.

You have never gotten further than grinding on his lap or just innocently sitting on one thigh. Sadly. Because you want to get off on them, feel how they flex under you. God. You just don’t know how to tell him.

You’re open with kinks in your relationship. But it’s mostly Matty who wants to try new stuff, you are open as well, but you never suggest anything.

You don’t know how long you can go before climbing over the control to sit down on him and start grinding on his jeans.

You feel you panties get wet at the thought and you’re clenching your thighs, adjusting your position in the search for friction to give yourself some relief.

“You alright?”

Matty’s voice is a hit to reality. You look at him offering him a tiny smile. “Yep, just hot.”

He glances at you quickly before his eyes turn back to the road. "D'you need me to turn the AC on?"

"No, it's fine," you say, but your mind is racing. You cant stop thinking about him and you can’t even turn your eyes off of his thighs.

His hand sometimes resting on his right thigh, wanting to replace his hand with yours.

“You’re acting off, love.” Matty says, squeezing your hand to make you look at him. “What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip, glancing at him and then quickly away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and desire. "It's nothing," you mutter, but you know you can't keep this to yourself much longer. The thought of his thighs under you, the way they would flex and move, is driving you wild.

“C’mon, spill it.” His eyes are narrowing slightly with concern. “You haven’t said one word the entire car ride.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I know. It's just... I feel weird bringing it up."

"Try me," he says gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

You take another deep breath, trying to gather your courage. "You know how you always tell me to let you know when I want to try something... in bed?"

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, f’ course,” smirks, “you want to try something?”

You look down at your hands, twisting them nervously.

“Yes but, oh god, it’s not really something in bed I guess.”

He smiles at your nervousness, knowing exactly that you hate speaking up on those things.

“You got me, tell me. Want me to piss on you or what?” He jokes knowing damn well if you would ask him to do that it wouldn’t take long for him to actual fulfill your every desire.

You groan and your face flushes. You cover your face with your hands. “No, not that,” you stammer, peeking at him through your fingers.

Matty bursts into laughter, the sound filling the car. "I'm just kidding, love. But seriously, what's got you so flustered?"

You mumble into your hands a low “thighs,” which is definitely understandable for him but he always wants you to elaborate.

“What’s that?” He asks, both hands on his wheel now, pushing his hips up a bit to settle into his seat. You’ve been on the road for quite some time now and he’s complained every ten minutes that his ‘arse hurts.’

“Matty,” you say softly, maybe convincing him to act before asking you what you exactly mean.

“Nah, love,” he chuckles, “don’t know what you mean, what did you say.”

You turn your head to the window, looking at all the houses passing by, familiar houses. Which means you’re almost at Matty’s.

“You’ve got my attention. Out with it.”

“Fine,” you groan, looking at him again. “Your thighs.” You say, “I’ve been thinking about them.”

The shit eating grin on his face is making you more nervous but over all even wetter. “Forget about it Matty.”

“Love, c’mon ease up a bit yeah?” he says, his tone softening just a touch. “You’re not getting out of this one. You’ve got to spill the beans now.”

You sigh, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “I just... I really want to try something with your thighs.”

His grin widens, and he shifts in his seat again, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere. What exactly did you have in mind?”

You look at your lap, “want to grind on them.”

Matty licks his lips before his lips part, his breathing getting heavier. “Oh want to use ‘em hm? Get off on them, s’that it?”

Matty's suggestive response sends a shiver down your spine. You clear your throat, trying to maintain composure. "Yeah, I... I think it could be really hot." Your voice wavers slightly, betraying your nervousness.

“Fuckin’ yeah that’s hot,” he lets out a chuckle, looking at you. “Wanted to go home the whole day, now I have something to look forward to.”

You can’t help but smile at his response. “So you’re okay with it?”

“More than okay, love.” He says giving your thigh a playful squeeze. “If we weren’t two minutes away I’d pull over.”

You squeeze your thighs together, this time with Matty noticing. He pushes them apart with his hand. “Eager much?”

The next to minutes feel like hours, the giddiness spreading through your body as you can only imagine what’s going to happen when you get home.

And then you do get home and he’s already on the couch spreading his thighs, calling you over.

“C’mere now, can clean this up later. Want to make you feel good now.” He pats his right thigh and you can’t help but smile, walking towards him in your shorts. You settle down on his lap and he tuts, “not like this.”

You blush, he extends his arms to help bring you to your knees, lacing your fingers with his as he keeps you balanced while you shuffle forward to straddle his leg.

“S’ no different than grinding on my dick alright,” he grins, already taking the piss out of you. “Jesus, love, I’m already as excited as you.”

“Yeah?” Your teeth roll over your bottom lip, a flutter of excitement dancing in your belly.

“Fuck yes,” He grins up at you, head resting back on the couch "You get to enjoy yourself, and I get to watch while you do it. S’ some hot shit.”

You nod your head, excited, allowing yourself to rest your weight fully onto him. Immediately, the simple pressure of his wide thigh against your thin shorts is enough to send a surge of heat dancing up your spine.

Resting your hands on his shoulders to get comfortable, you lean in for a kiss, capturing his bottom lip between yours and dragging a sleepy little growl from his throat. He guides you slightly higher up his thigh, the shift in angle pushing your clothed clit tight against his leg making you whimper helplessly against his mouth. The rumble of Matty’s low chuckle vibrates warmly in his chest.

“Don’t hold back, show me what you want to do with m’ thighs.” murmurs reassuringly, hands resting firm either side of your hips, urging you to move.

The roll of your pelvis is tentative at first, figuring out what pressure and speed work for you. Settling into a rhythm, the friction builds a delicious pressure low in your belly. You feel yourself getting wetter with each grind against Matty’s thigh. An appreciative little groan from beneath you has your eyes opening to see him staring right between your legs - at the little damp spot you're marking him with.

His hand on the small of your back brings you towards his mouth, tongue sliding wantonly between your lips with a fiery possessiveness that makes you rub faster and tighter circles full of need against his thigh. You feel a coil tightening, pulling at your insides, when he stops, gripping your hips.

“Stand up f’ me,” you whine, pouting your lips and he laughs, kissing them. “Only f’ a second, need to get these off.”

You stand up infront of him and he quickly tugs the shorts off of you, looking down at your panties, the wet patch very visible. “Christ, darling, you fuckin’ love this.”

“Get back here,” he demands, pulling you back onto his thigh and you immediately start rocking your hips back and forth.

"Fuck," you whimper, thighs shaking slightly as you continue the abuse toward your swollen clit, somehow Matty’s jeans make the stimulation even better through your thin panties and it almost causes you to lurch forward in shock.

Matty chuckles at that as he throws his arms over the couch casually, "hm, feel good?" you nod quickly, too lost in your own pleasure to comprehend a word.

His hands slither onto your hips from behind and press you harder against Matty’s flexed thigh causing a silent scream to escape your lips.

Matty’s cock begins to twitch inside his already-too-tight pants and he unclasps his belt skillfully with one hand, undoing the button and lowering the fly.

“Keep using my thigh, want you to completely ruin my jeans.” You moan and nod in agreement your eyes trailing down his body to where Matty’s hand disappears in his jeans.

He’s pulling out his hard cock from his boxers, "you can’t believe how fuckin hot you look, riding my thigh like this" His other hand slides down from your hip to your knee, giving a light squeeze.

Matty swipes his tongue over his bottom lip before giving his cock a tug, “Christ.”

“Just like that, darling,” he groans, “can’t believe’ s the first time we’re doing this.” The lustful nature of his words alone sends a shiver down your spine, only encouraging your arousal as his leg bobs perfectly against your throbbing clit. Suddenly, the slick of Matty’s' tongue meet your neck, gliding down to your exposed clavicle as a familiar knot begins to wind in the pit of your stomach.

“M’ close.” You slip a breathy moan, pumping your cunt faster against your boyfriend's leg.

“S’ that so? Fuck-“ Matty grins, pulling your heat further against the rigorous motions of his leg - your agile fingers tugging at his shirt "Cum for me, darling." He strokes his cock still in a torturous pace, not wanting to cum without you.

“Make a mess, love,” you mewl into his shirt and clench around air, hips picking up speed while you grip his bicep. Matty’s thigh is damp with your arousal, the warmth seeping into the fabric and vaguely hitting his skin.

You feel his body shake with each passing stroke of his fist. The fact he is getting off to you getting off on him makes you shiver with delight. You lift your head from his shoulder and crash your lips against his messily; teeth closing, tongues swirling.

He speeds up his fist, grunting himself as his orgasm approaches. His eyes stay on you though the whole time, not wanting to miss a second of you grinding on his thigh.

“Oh- fuck,” You call out as your orgasm hits, chest rising and falling rather drastically as your body takes to instinctively adjusting.

“Good girl- fuck,” you ride out out your orgasm but instinctively you replace Matty’s hand with yours, jerking him off in a brutally fast pace. “Keep doing that.”

His lips press against yours once more, tongue flicking over your bottom lip before pushing it in. Your hands come up to cradle his face while you swallow down every single moan and grunt leaving Matty’s throat just as he spills himself into your fist.

You are both panting, grinning into each others mouths when you let your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this soaked,” he states, starting to prep kisses down your arm. “I think you need to tell me your fantasies more often.”

You giggle into his neck, leaving a kiss at the same spot, when you finally get off of his lap, the stickiness almost gluing yourself to him.

He smiles at the wet spot on his jeans proudly, “hm, are you feeling alright?”

You nod, watching him tug himself into his pants again to stand up, “more than alright Matty, thank you.”

“You’re joking, f’course baby, hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

You laugh, “definitely need to shower now.”

“Oh what a coincidence, me too.” He laughs standing up, already pulling his shirt over his head revealing his tattoos and his skin covered in some sweat. “Let’s go.”

He grits his teeth together before yanking you over his shoulder, playfully smacking the skin on the back of your thigh. “You’re my little minx”

#the 1975 #matty healy #Matty Healy smut #matty healy imagine #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy blurb #matty healy oneshot #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic

[cowboytism]

god, i will never get over episode 5.

louis and armand are two forces of nature colliding and collapsing into something explosive. they are two performers acting out a scene for three over and over, the void growing larger and threatening to swallow them. they are vying for control and companionship, both real and imagined, circling each other in the prison of their desire for him.

they settled for each other, and that’s fine, this is fine, they’re all FINE, but really, the thing both of them want more than anything in the world is his love, and louis is the one who has it, even though armand was there first. and louis may be cruel and self-destructive at times, but at least he’s locked in there with him, at least there’s someone to serve, at least he’s not alone, that’s something armand can work with.

but when louis rejects him too, when he attempts a prison break twice in the same night, when he makes it clear that armand ranks below death, the decades of grief and rage and resentment smelt up everything around them, including a young daniel molloy. daniel, who is irrevocably changed by an event he cannot remember, who has been attributing the scar on his neck to the wrong man for almost half a century. armand removes daniel’s memories of him but leaves behind the imprint of his teeth in daniel’s neck like a brand. it says, you will not remember this, but this is the night i make both of you mine.

armand becomes a myth-maker. i can make this simple, he says, there is no way out of this and you do not want to leave. there is no other man waiting for you, because he only loves himself, because he didn’t love me so he cannot love you. you want me because i will shape myself into anything you desire, and even when you don’t want me, your memories will tell you that you do. i am protecting you from yourself, because before me it was all pain, remember? i left just enough for you to reach the correct conclusion. i am protecting you even when it looks like i’m protecting myself. i saved the boy, remember? you wanted to kill him but i stopped you. you are dangerous when you want something. i will always stop you. you are here, and i am at your service, and we can do this forever. i am of great use to you. you want me. you want me even though he didn’t, and that’s enough. you are safe because i don’t have to be alone.

#iwtv #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #amc iwtv spoilers #iwtv spoilers #armand de romanus #louis de pointe du lac #daniel molloy #lestat de lioncourt #loumand #danlou #iwtv season 2 #lesmand #loustat #FAILMARRIAGE!!!!! *kills myself* #long post

[darylssunshine]

daryl x reader

“whoa hey, you’re bleeding.” reader maybe not realizing it until she looks down. falling into his arms and daryl callin for help. whump whump whumppp . set at the prison ?

Family

word count: 1.1k

a/n: finally getting into the swing of things with requests. hope you enjoy anon <3

~~~

The sounds of people yelling and the banging of chain link fences echoed throughout the prison courtyard. You jabbed your knife through yet another walker, grunting as you pushed it through its thick skull. You, along with everyone else in your small group, including Carl, had been at this for at least an hour now, but it was necessary to keep the prison safe. Still, the constant stabbing motion had your upper arm aching. Probably acid and bile rising up from your stomach, too.

“I got the last one!” Glenn called out from the middle of the formation, sticking his knife right in the middle of the walker’s eye. Audible sighs of relief could be heard from the group, along with a victory ‘whoop’ from Carl. Standing right beside you, Daryl was flicking the excess undead blood from his knife and his hands, wiping the rest on his pants. He shaked a stray hair out of his eye then wiped a hand down his face, sighing and sheathing his now blood-free knife. 

“Jesus. Glad that’s over. Can’t wait to do that again tomorrow.” He scoffed, leaning against the fence and stretching his overused right arm.

“I know, right? My arm is killing me. Gonna have to… ” You trailed off, suddenly feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. You leaned your arm against the fence for support and lowered your head, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Daryl stopped leaning against the fence and took a cautious step forward towards you. “Hey, you okay?” 

You immediately snapped your gaze back up to the archer, desperately trying to seem like you had your shit together. “Yep. Yeah. I’m okay.” You placed your free hand on your hip to simulate normality. That’s when Daryl looked you up and down and his eyes suddenly went wide.

“Woah, woah, woah, hey, hey! Yer bleedin’!!” He quickly stepped toward you, glancing down sporadically. 

You placed your hand on your stomach, discovering the right side was wet and sticky. It was, in fact, blood.

“Fuckin’ damn it.” You mumble, before going limp and falling into Daryl’s arms, him catching you by the armpits. 

His heart immediately started racing when he caught you and layed you carefully on the dying grass. The few that surrounded you stepped back to give you some space. He instantly got on his knees and inspected your injuries, praying to whatever deity was listening that you hadn’t gotten bit. After a string of mumbled expletives, he shouted, “I need some fuckin’ help over here!” To no one in particular, his frantic eyes never leaving your closed ones.

What he didn’t see happening behind him was Rick rushing to get Hershel, while Maggie and Glenn hurriedly grabbing a makeshift stretcher and bringing it to wear you laid. He quickly got to his feet and helped you onto the stretcher. He was by your side the entire time and throughout all of the noise and chaos, you could swear you could hear Daryl whispering, “They’re gonna be fine. They’re gonna be fine.”

—

You groggily opened your eyes and instantly felt a stinging on your right side. The events of the past hour flooded back, and you wince. You cautiously felt the area, and thankfully you felt a clean bandage.

Judging by the beige ceiling and the firm yet surprisingly comfortable mattress you were on, you had been placed in Hershel’s room. You slowly moved your head to the side, expecting to be met with an equally beige wallpaper, but to your surprise, you were met with a sleeping, hot headed, brunette, redneck.

He was spread out in a chair he had brought from the dining room. His head was lolled towards you, his hair in his eyes and snoring quite loud. You smiled, heart slightly skipping a beat at the thought of him not wanting to leave your side.

“Hey.” You rasped, cringing at your own voice. 

Daryl, being a naturally light sleeper, immediately blinked awake. It took a second for the fog of sleep to leave his brain, but it left fast when he realized that you were awake. That you were alive.

“Holy fuck. (Y/N.) Hey. How’re ya feelin’?” He rambled, scooting the chair closer to the bed and sitting on the edge of it.

“Like shit. But I’ll be fine.” You sighed in response. 

“Good.” Daryl said softly, letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Hershel said you probably got scratched by a walker. That true?”

You averted his gaze from his and started picking your fingernails, a nervous habit you’ve had since you were a child. “It happened while we were dealing with that hoard. I didn’t wanna make a scene.” 

You heard him sigh deeply and didn’t speak for a moment. You turned your head back towards him, and he had his head in his hand, almost willing himself to speak. He looked up and his eyes looked redder and puffier than they were before. “Why th’ fuck would ya do tha’?”

You slowly sat up in a somewhat sitting position to better look him in the eyes. “We all have to protect this place, Daryl! This family! It’s something that most don’t have these days.”

“We coulda had one less person in th’ family if you’d told me about tha’ any later.” He motioned to your wound with a nod of his head.

“You guys can function without m-” You were cut off from your half-joking comment.

“I can’t, ‘kay?! I can’t. So shuddup. Don’t say tha’.” He suddenly raised his voice a little, making you shut your lips and look at him with your full attention.

“Look. I don’t want ya gettin’ hurt. I care about ya. Always have.” He gazed into your eyes with such a fondness you could’ve started crying right then and there. And you would’ve, if he didn’t look away from you in sudden embarrassment. “Yer the only one who keeps me sane ‘round here.”

You sniffed, chuckling to cover up the tightness growing in the back of your throat. “That why you stayed and kept me up with your snoring?”

“Shuddup.” He repeated, sounding exasperated, but you didn’t miss the slight smile on his face.

He then stood up, flexed his probably sore neck, and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. More heat blossomed onto your cheek at the sudden contact.

“Gonna go get Hershel now that yer awake.” He said softly before walking towards the door.

“Can you bring me dinner after pleeeeease?” You asked, your hands in a prayer motion and your eyelashes batting.

He turned around in the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

“Sure. ‘S a date.” He drawled, winked, then walked away like nothing happened.

Maybe you should have thanked that walker before you stabbed him.

#daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #asks #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl dixon x gender neutral reader #gender neautral reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon whump #daryl dixon angst

[sturniolo-simp4life]

Hard to say- pt. 4

overview- you and the sturniolo’s have been best friends since you remember, but you’ve always had a thing for Matt. When a new girl, Abby, moves into town, things between you and Matt change.

warnings- underage drinking, crying, Abby being a bitch but then getting what she deserves.

a/n- sorry guys

your head was pounding when your woke up, from all of the crying.

You still couldn’t believe that Matt had just left you- for someone he barely even knew.

you sighed and got up, getting ready for school.

-

“he doesn’t fucking deserve you,” Logan practically spat out. You and him had gotten closer over the weeks Matt ignored you.

“if he can’t see how amazing you are then he must be blind.” You shrugged. “Thanks I guess.”

Logan frowned at you, but he knew just the thing to lighten the mood. “Also.. I finished season one of bridgerton!”

your face immediately lighten up. “Really? Did you like it?”

“it was good honestly. I’m just glad Simon came to his senses.” You laughed.

from across the room, Matt looked at you and Logan laughing. Something twitched in his stomach. Had he really been right to leave you?

he shook it from his head, or tried too, and turned his attention back on Abby.

-

Lunch approached suddenly, making you feel a little skeptical. You approached your table.

unfortunately things weren’t gonna go good. “Oh look, the whore has arrived,” Abby said. Your faces burned with anger and embarrassment as you sat down.

“shove it up your ass,” ally said. There was an awkward silence for a moment until Logan walked up to the table.

“hey y/n, wanna sit with us?” He motioned to his table where a few people sat and waved.

Matt glared at Logan but nobody noticed. “Sure,” you said, trying to escape the tension.

“your gonna leave me?” Ally fake pouted. “Oh God,” she gasped. “Are you replacing me too?” You smiled at her. “Don’t worry Al. Nobody replaces the original.” “Good,” she said with a smirk. “Now off you go.”

you smiled at her and followed logan to his table. Matt glared at both of your backs as you walked off.

you sat down at the table. Besides Logan, there was 2 girls and another guy. “Hey,” you breathed as you sat down.

“this is y/n guys. Y/n, that’s Emery,” he pointed to a girl with brown curly hair. She smiled and waved at you. You smiled back. “That’s Angela,” he pointed to a girl who’s also had brown hair, but it was straight. “And that’s Mateo.” The boy had deep black curly hair. He gave you a nod.

“On my gosh,” Emery said. “How does it feel to be friends with the sturniolo’s? They’re so fine. Especially Chris.”

“okay Emery that’s enough,” Angela said. “Sorry about her. She has a little.. obsession.” You laughed. “It’s okay.”

“so anyways y/n,” Logan began. “Laura Dwarfman is having a party tonight. Wanna go?”

“I dunno..” you said a little skeptically. Usually parties didn’t go well with the kids in your school. “Come on! It’ll help you get your mind off of… recent events.”

he wasn’t wrong. You had a lot on your plate lately, and you wanted to take a breather. “Fine,” you sighed. “But you have to give me a ride.”

“I’ll be there at 5,” he said with a mischievous grin. You rolled your eyes and continued to talk with your new friends.

-

it was about 4:45, and you were currently applying lip gloss. You wore a blue dress that hugged every curved of your body. It made you feel confident for some reason.

“ooooh, someone’s looking good,” you mom said as she walked into the kitchen. You rolled your eyes.

“where are you going?” She asked. “Some random girl’s party.” She nodded her head and sipped her coffee.

the door bell suddenly rang. “That must be my ride.” You open the door to see Logan grinning at you.

“hey,” you breathed. “You ready?” “Yeah.”

“And who is this y/n?” Your mom asked, smirking. “Mom this is Logan. Logan this is my mom.”

“nice to meet you.” He said with a smile, shaking her hand. “Now if you kids are gonna do anything, please use protection.”

a crimson blush appeared on your cheeks. “Mom!” Logan chuckled behind you. “Don’t worry. Me and your daughter are just close friends, and we plan to keep it that way.”

“Alright alright. You kids have fun. Also y/n, be back by 11:30. There’s school tomorrow.”

“alright,” you said as you walked out the door. “Bye!”

-

the first thing you smelled as you walked through the door was sweat and alcohol. You and Logan walked through, managing to bump into Chris and Nick.

“Oh hey y/n. Long time no see.” Chris said. You grinned at him. “Oh yeah. This is Logan.” Logan waved. “Cool. I’m Chris, and that’s nick.”

You saw a blush crawl on Logan’s face as he shook hands with nick. “Right. We’ll catch you guys later.”

You followed Logan into the living room, where a circle was forming. They were playing truth or drink.

“alright so here’s how the game goes,” some random guy said. “You spin the bottle. When it lands in someone, the person he spun the bottle asks a question. You either say it, or you have to take a shot.”

you normally didn’t drink but this sounded fun. “Alright I’ll go first.” The guy spun the bottle, and it landed on a girl.

“Alright. How many bodies do you have?” The girl blushed and poured a shot in her glass, gulping it down.

After a few rounds, the bottle landed on you. “Who was your first with?”

you didn’t hesitate to pour yourself a shot. You were not admitting that you were a virgin in front of a crowd. Some sounds of disappointment left the circle.

after about 30 minutes of playing, you were completely wasted. You found yourself wandering to the dance floor, losing yourself.

someone pushed to you to the floor- hitting your head. You were a bit dizzy as you sat up, but the dizziness left immediately.

Right in front of your eyes- Matt and Abby were making out. The drink in your hand spilled in the floor when you fell, and it now touched Matt’s shoes.

Matt pulled away, looking down at the mess in front of him, until he saw you, right in front of him.

there was so much hurt in your eyes, and tears were falling down your face. Abby just laughed at you. “Aww, did the little baby hurt herself falling?” She said in a mocking voice.

you couldn’t with her anymore. You grabbed punch bowl and poured it over her head, eliciting gasps from everyone in the room.

she wiped the vodka punch out of her face and screamed. “You little bitch,” she yelled. “Do you know how expensive this dress was?”

“aww, is the little baby gonna cry over her dress?” You said in the same tone she had. “Go fuck your self bitch.” You flipped her off and stormed out the house, tears falling down your eyes.

Logan followed you out the house. “Y/n,” he said grabbing your shoulder. “Are you alright?” That was it.

you bursted out into sobs, and he pulled you close. You wrapped your arms around him and sobbed into his shirt.

tags- v4mp1r3c4t sturniololvrrr sturnssan blahbel668 arleanka futuristicladywonderland iloveneilperry sturnstvr jetaimevous britishamerican11 alicejwebster sturnsforlife ldrloverrrrrr sturnthepot

#christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #the sturniolo triplets #chris smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader

[planariaareneat]

How The Nocturnal Bottleneck and Nipples Make Us Human

Almost every post here considers what humans do have, really. It’s a little tiring; realistically every world has its harsh environments and vicious species and a sophont to match. We probably wouldn’t be unique for our adaptability or our persistence or even adrenaline

But our evolution is fucked up as hell, to put it lightly.

Mammals went through what’s been dubbed the nocturnal bottleneck essentially since the start of the mesozoic right up until the Cretaceous ended the archosaur’s exclusive hold over the daylight. We lost a lot of things from every mammal spending most of its time in either a cramped, suffocating burrow or scrounging around in the faint hours of nighttime. Our blood cells lost their nuclei to hold more oxygen while we spent time deep underground, we lost protections against ultraviolet rays in our skin and eyes, we can’t even repair our own DNA using the light of the sun. Most aliens probably wouldn’t have such traits unless their evolution followed a very similar path to ours. They’d be able to see ultraviolet and wouldn’t have to worry about sunburn and all the wonderful privileges essentially all fish, birds, amphibians, and reptiles enjoy as we speak. 

There’s also what we gained from spending so much time in the dark.

Brown fat is only found in mammals, it’s a special type of fat which bear cells with several oil droplets and are utterly jammed with mitochondria. This lets it make heat, a lot of it, fast. We don’t even need to shiver to induce this heat generation from brown adipose tissue - factor in our downright hyperactive mitochondria, and we can warm up quickly. Sure, it doesn’t have too much use in adult humans, but it keeps our infants warm and still provides a little boost the whole run we have in this universe.

Unless aliens also went through a time where their small ancestors had to face cold nights, they’d have to produce heat the old fashioned way when chilled. Aliens might have to shiver the whole time they’re in a cold room while the human watches in confusion, quite literally unshaken, and wonders if the room is a lot colder than the thermostat set to 60 says. The aliens stare at their companion in confusion, it’s just a normal temperature to shiver at after all, how is the human sitting so still?

Our small ancestors spending all their time out foraging at night is also why we have such a good sense of touch, smell, and hearing. They were more important senses than vision (we’re lucky to have even redeveloped basic color vision, frankly) at the time and place and simply ended up continuing to serve us well. Birds and reptiles rarely have acute senses of smell and the latter especially are lucky to have acute hearing, and birds rarely have impeccable hearing themselves either. Our skin is free of scales and honed to sensitivity, and our external ears and complicated ear bones provide an immense range of hearing (from 20 all the way to 17,000 hertz!).

Aliens might not be able to pin down the chirp of a cricket or the light click of a lock being picked. The human might be the only one on board a ship that can pick out the finer sounds of the engine’s constant thrum and know the critical difference between when everything is fine and when something is wrong. The human could probably pick out the sounds of an approaching enemy’s careless footsteps - they’re only as light enough for *them* to stop hearing them, after all - and be the one to see the horrified expression (well, more on that later) on their face when we get the drop on them in spite of their perceived stealth. 

But perhaps the most versatile, convoluted, amazing, and utterly unique trait we have is right on your face this instant. Lips.

Lips in most animals are a simple seal to hold in the mouth’s moisture and protect the teeth, even if they’re supple they’re NEVER muscular except in mammals, and we have only one thing to thank for it; milk and nipples. Lips evolved exclusively to allow babies to suckle, it required a vacuum to be created in the mouth, and with no other animal having anything like a nipple it never happened in other animals. Many animals make milk, to be frank, but no other animal has nipples.

Your cheeks and lips are a marvel among tetrapods, no other animal can suck like mammals can. Aliens wouldn’t have straws or even be able to sip from the edge of a glass, they’d have to have a proboscis or simply tilt the whole thing back. Aliens likely won’t have woodwind instruments or balloons you can blow into. We take so much about our lips for granted. Hell, our muscular faces are vital for expressions, we’re probably absolute facial contortionists among a cast of creatures with mandibles and beaks and expressionless scaly maws. Aliens might find us ridiculously easy to read, if anything, compared to their own kind (all the better to deceive them) - or perhaps they’d find us hard to decipher anyways, with our lack of color-changing skin or erectable crests of bright feathers. Baring teeth might not be seen as a sign of aggression in most of the universe, smiling would be all too distinctly human. 

Perhaps with how infectious we are sometimes, that’s what we’d contribute to the universe; others might have to make do with opening their mouths just enough to show their teeth or splaying their innumerable mouthparts with just the right curve, but perhaps we’d teach the galaxy to smile, one ally at a time. 

Wouldn’t that be amazing?

#humans are space fae #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are strange #I’m seeing a lot of people in these tags just kind of disregard the nature of life and the universe #Unfortunately there probably aren’t mediterranean worlds without desert ‘nor tundra and life easy enough that losing a limb #wasn’t considered evolutionarily advantageous to be able to survive. #There will be wolves and tigers and bears all the same on alien worlds #and life will probably be hard everywhere in the galaxy #and there will be hatred and wars and love and hope and the burning feeling in thing’s vital organs when they just need to go a little more #and that’s what makes it life. #Sorry for ranting in the tags lol…

[robiinurheart33]

Soap likes it when they’re alone.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s fun when 141 are all together, the four of them kicking ass on a mission. But when it’s just two of them on a mission, it just feels.. different. Like he has Ghost all to himself. They work wonderfully together as a duo, which is probably why Price never separates them. Also probably because Gaz is his favourite, that prick. (He misses them.)

They’re currently on a stakeout, and Soap was supposed to be asleep 2 hours ago.

He’s sitting across from Ghost, dressed in his sleepwear which was a sweater and old sleeping shorts he used to wear back in secondary school. Ghost was wearing a large hoodie, some sweatpants and the mandatory balaclava. They were both sitting in front of two windows next to each other, the wooden blinds pushed open and moonlight illuminating them both. The cooling air seeps into the room, and soap breathes in deeply. He glances down towards his journal, a finger stuck between the pages, the other hand twirling the pen around. It’s quiet.

His journal is far from neat, pages sticking out waywardly and the leather ripping off from one side of the cover. Soap resists the urge to pick at it. It’s filled with notes from missions, sketches of his loved ones. Mostly sceneries of places he’s stationed at.

He looks up at Ghost staring out of the window. Soap turns his head back out the window, wondering what Ghost was specifically looking at, what he was thinking at the moment, whether he would scold soap if he said he wanted to slip out to buy some supper because he’s hungry. Soap flips back open his journal, and can feel ghost attuned to his actions, even if he wasn’t currently looking at him. Soap likes him for that. He pays attention. Soap wants to return the favour. He wants to know his ins and outs, wants to pay attention. He’s always been an attention-seeking child, which meant that most adults and classmates would ignore him. Endless nights of young dumb teenage John Mactavish sobbing into his pillow about insecurities, his future and the people around him. The things he used to do for attention, each one more drastic than the last. He can’t count the amount of times his Ma had to bail him out, the amount of stress he caused her, his dear Ma.

He likes the natural attention the army brings him, big brute having the green light to legally kill people for a living. It was liberating for a while, but eventually that too died out. At the not-so ripe age of 30-whatever, Soap learns to savour the portions of attention and praise he’s delivered, especially when he joined 141. Maybe in another universe he would be just a little easier to love, little easier to endure. It’s not something he really dwells on nowadays (lie), but he would have preferred somebody be actually interested, not just for the sake of taming him.

Soap looks back on the half-filled page of his journal, clicking open his ballpoint pen, and starts to sketch Ghost. He’s a pretty good subject, not really needing to focus a lot on anatomy since most of his face is covered anyways. He’s familiar with the strokes. He eventually gets lost in it, thoughts fading away and autopilot coming to take over the wheel, the skktch of pen on paper is repetitive and soothing to his ears. It’s the only sound between them now, the crickets and wind opting to stay out of their safe little bubble.

So when Soap looks back up again and sees Ghost looking back, he physically bristles. They lock into a strange sort of stare-off, Ghost’s eyes upturned slightly in a way Johnny knows that he found it amusing. They look at each other for about a solid ten seconds, enough time for him to memorise his blond eyelashes and his eye shape, clocking in internally on how to draw him even better, tempted to just look down and sketch them as fast as possible, so he wouldn’t forget. Ever.

“…Wha’?” Johnny’s fine with breaking first.

“You’re looking at me.”

“Astute observation, LT. Is it still night time?”

“Wha ‘ave you got for us?”

Soap covers his journal in a sort of bashful kind of way, feeling like a schoolgirl covering her diary.

“Didn’t know you got yourself a little diary.”

Soap tsks. “It’s a journal.”

“Right.” An indignant huff.

“Am’ no lying!” Soap feels heat rush to his cheeks, strangely defensive of his pride in front of his lieutenant.

“Never said you were. Drawin’ me now?” His manc accent was suddenly getting very annoying. Ghost’s eyes skirt down to his hands covering the pages, and suddenly Johnny is very aware of the skin wrapped around the muscles of his hands, down to the bone. He feels the dirt under his fingernails, the ink smudged against his fingertips and palm. He wants to turn his hands in and out, inspecting them himself to see if they’re worthy of being looked at by Ghost. Acutely aware of the sheer pressure, the weight of ghost’s attention on him, his skin gets all prickly and he wants to hide.

Is he doing that on purpose?

“Yer a good subject, never movin like a statue. It’s good for practicing my still life.” Soap’s ring finger twitches, and he knows he’s been given away.

Ghost’s eyes glint in the moonlight. His eyes are almond shaped, bigger than most. His pupils are dilated, dirt brown, like the whisky he likes to choke down. His eyelashes are long, so blonde they’re almost white. they shine so brightly soap wants to reach over and close them, just to calm his poor heart a bit. Soap wants to jab his pen into his eye. Soap knows how many strokes it takes to draw Simon’s eyes.

“…. At least get my good side, Sargent.”

“Full o’ shite, you.” he chuckles, the spell breaking as soap rests his knee up on the table and placing his journal against it. It would be a little harder to sketch ghost now, but it’ll be a cold day in hell if Ghost ever sees what he does with his journal. (Would probably be more inclined to call it a diary, old fuck.) Although, he can’t help but admit that it’s a beautiful night in this particular day. It doesn’t count that Ghost and Soap’s legs are in between each other’s under the table, just short of touching each other. It doesn’t count that Johnny pointedly ignores the way that Ghost is still looking at him from the corner of his eye. It doesn’t count that Simon allows Johnny to draw him out when he would break the neck of anyone even trying to look into his eyes too deeply.

It doesn’t count that here, in their little fake apartment with one bed, sniper gun concealed under the window, two toothbrushes side by side in a cup in the bathroom, that they allow themselves to be Simon and Johnny.

They fall back into comfortable silence, Johnny 2 hours and 30 minutes over his allotted time to sleep.

#i might do a ghost pov of this #writing w no plot shld be more popular #need more domestic scenes with these men #I live for domestic aus #anyways stay safe y’all hope you like this one!! #writing dialogue is like wiping my tongue over a cheese grater #how do you guys do this #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghostsoap #robs ramblings

[absolutebl]

Love Sea - A Trash Watch Smolder

Well my BLabies, do you have your drinks ready?

Are your smores stabbed on dildos, ready to roast over the stinking flames? (Or whatever one prods smores with, I missed that weird American tradition in my misspent youth.)

Can you smell it in the air? That smell of burning trash?

Let the dumpster fire begin. Another Mame offering is upon us.

The Background

The Mameverse tends to interlock, but all signs point to these being entirely new characters. (Click on that link if you want my thoughts on this author/producer and what I feel she does well and poorly.) Meanwhile here's the brief:

Who?

FortPeat - established couple from previous Mame offering Love in the Air AKA LITA (trash watched here).

How do we feel about them? We likie. They a great pair. Steady, established actors, good a promo, but not too good. Bit one note but can't ask for too much when it comes with such great chemistry.

What we know about them as actors? Forth is legitimately in Engineering (hilarious). Peat and he started in the industry around the same time with bit parts, but Peat is 4 years older. They do high heat and they do it relatively well. They were quite popular after their first series and have received sponsorships since. So they wisely stayed branded and it's nice to see them on our screens again.

What?

Love Sea

While travelling a writer has a one night stand with a very irritating man.

10 episodes

When?

Sundays

Where?

iQIYI (AKA icky)

Why?

Mame

To what degree?

Stick your thermometer into that fire, we gonna find out. 102°C I expect.

Episode One - That's An Outfit We'd All Wear to a Tropical Island

Here’s the thing. Icky has decided (in its infinite wisdom) that it will no longer allow screen caps on mobile devices. Which means you’re going to get my loquaciousness on this dumpster fire with no respite from the unmitigated madness via photos of pretty boys saying stupid things.

So. Read at your own risk.

So,I have a bottle of sake and a maple doughnut (don’t knock it till you’ve tried it) so let’s get started!

Hold onto your dildo smores BLabies we are in Mame Country. And apparently that country has its very own baby drone to film with now. (Look, the one thing BL very rarely needs more of is distance shots. That’s not what we’re here for people. Certainly not from FortPeat.)

Rak, baby, I'm loving the all-black western meets goth-rocker look but that eye make-up is the true star. This is how I shall dress when I visit Thailand next. (Oh, you think I'm joking? Gotta work on my smokey eye.)

Meanwhile, if your suitcases are that expensive, why aren’t they matched?

P'ABL asking the important questions for once.

Speaking of important questions:

Why are siblings always trying to pimp each other out in Mame’s stuff? Does anyone else find this creepy? I think it’s odd to be your sibling's wingman when he's chasing tail. It’s edging into the incest taboo. Oh dear, I said edging and incest in the same sentence, I’m probubly giving her ideas.

I’m getting Hometown Cha Cha Cha vibes from Mut.

Rak is such a cat, very picky and stand-offish. Mut is such a puppy. Very conflicting personalities. Not a bad combo.

The "let’s get it on" music is hilarious. But at least Mame doesn't use egregious sound effects in her shows. Small mercies.

I will say, FortPeat do hurt/comfort very well. Peat is good at prickly fragile baby-girl. Fort is good at cocky arrogant prick. They are good at bouncing off of each other and still showing desire. Frankly, chemistry is not one of their problems. They’re fine little actors. It’s just the story is going to betray them. Characters are going to be inexplicably evil for no good reason. And we are going to feel manipulated as a result.

But right now?

It’s fine.

And that's it, that's how I feel about Love Sea.

All in all, I’m quite drunk and it wasn’t really warranted.

Waste of sake. Not a waste of a maple doughnut. No such thing. Maple donuts are always put to good use.

Okay, so Mame? Just keep it on this level and we'll remain fine. Some light terrorizing and stalking, a smidge of breaking and entering. Nothing more offensive, please?

But that’s my eternal optimism (and the sake) talking.

Right now I’m not feeling very strongly in any direction about this show. I haven’t been whipped into a verbal frenzy.

This has been a lackluster start, my BLabies.

Kortord tukorn

(sorry all)

This trash watch has started off as more of a dumpster smolder. A light recycling. (Like Mame and her character archetypes.)

We smokey rather than flaming, rather like Rak's FANTASTIC eye makeup.

Oof, I feel faintly ill. I think that is the sake, tho, not the eye make up. Which was on point! Although when he started to cry, it should’ve started running down his face. Life has very few stand out moments of glory apart from an adorable young man with eye makeup running down his face.

Catch ya next week. More sake, less doughnut.

su su na

************************************

All my trash watches are here:

Okay so sometimes tumblr does this thing where it stops letting me edit/update a post. If there are more episodes to this show than are showing up in this trash watch post, click the first tag below (#ABL trash watches Love Sea) and that should take you to the more recent updated with all of the episodes in it.

(source)

#ABL trash watches Love Sea #Love Sea the series #BL trash watch #Love Sea #Thai BL #trash watch #bl watch along #ABL trash watches BL

[onlymurphy]

Look After You

SPOILERS: Through Drum Island

Why do I love writing Sanji suffering so much? Guess we'll never know.

You've braved the elements. You've climbed the mountain. It's over. Or, you think it's over until you find Sanji, Luffy, and Nami on the brink of death in the mountains of Drum Island. You struggle to keep your friends alive, especially when you see the severe extent of Sanji's injuries. In the chaos, however, Sanji does the strangest thing possible. He kisses you. Now, waiting anxiously to find out his fate, you're forced to remember the pivotal moments in your friendship and question whether being with him will end in love and joy, or destroy the relationship you have with the person you love most.

Sanji x fem!reader

Angst | Fluff | Friends to Lovers

PG-13

TW: Gore, blood, description of serious injury, mention of food insecurity, mention of arranged marriages.

This is the same reader as Worthy of You!

Cross-Posted on A03

Request Here

“Please.”

The cold is digging through your pants now, your knees numb. Maybe you would have noticed the discomfort if the rest of your body wasn’t gripped by the numbness of terror - unable to move but frantic as you fist at the torn material of Sanji’s shirt.

“Please” you beg him, your voice not even sounding like it belongs to you, like someone else is pleading with the half of your soul before you to just keep breathing. “Please don’t leave me. Breathe for me, Sanji.”

He seems as though he can’t move his head, but he darts his eyes to the side to look at you. They’re not your Sanji’s eyes. They’re grey, distant, something akin to the snow freezing your clothes to your skin.

“I’m dying” he mumbles.

You recoil from the words. How dare he speak such a thing into existence. How dare he threaten you in that way, imply that the universe has the strength to pry him from your arms.

“I’m dying” he repeats as if you hadn’t heard him the first time. “I don’t wanna die.”

You brush some of that hair out of his eyes, and oh Gods you’ve gotten blood on his pretty face.

“I got blood on your forehead” you whisper, not sure what else to say.

In glorious, perfect him, he forces his hand to slide across the snow until it’s laid on your knee. “It’s okay, Pretty.”

Pretty.

He can’t die. Who else will call you Pretty? What will stop that part of your soul from withering away to nothing?

You don’t want to move him or lift him in fear of irritating his injuries, but not being able to hold him in his agony is ripping you apart. Blood is soaking the front of his coat. The white snow below him is pure red, disgustingly reminding you of the raspberry sorbet he’d given you earlier. You can taste it at the thought of it, but when that taste turns to the metallic ghost of Sanji’s blood, it takes everything in you not to vomit.

“Where are you bleeding?” You wonder as you slowly, ever so slowly begin to wake from your shock. “I’m gonna take your coat off and stop the bleeding.”

He meekly shakes his head. “Help Nami. Help Luffy.”

Ever generous, ever brave, ever self-sacrificial.

“I covered up Luffy’s hands and feet and wrapped Nami in my coat. They’re gonna be fine for now.”

His hand shoots out with a newfound vigor then, fingers wrapping around your wrist.

“Go” he demands you, though the harsh word doesn’t quite land with the way his voice is beginning to break. “I’m dying.”

There it is again, that betrayal.

You try your best to ignore him, reaching into your belt and pulling out your knife. The blade makes quick work of his puffy jacket. Fluff instantly turns red when it exits the fabric, sticking to his wounds and falling to the snow.

“Stop” he whispers. “Please. Pretty, I can’t move my legs. I can’t feel my feet.”

No. No, that’s not true.

It’s the cold, that’s all. It’s just the ice.

You tear open his shirt, tears beginning to prick at your eyes. They feel as though they freeze the instant they come.

“Sanji” you begin once his coat and shirt have both been cut away. “I have to roll you a bit so I can see where you’re bleeding from. I think the wound is on your back.”

You don’t give him time to hesitate or be afraid. You use all the strength that’s left in your exhausted body to roll him just a bit. You nearly gag at the sight of your best friend’s back once it seems to peel up from the ice below.

His vertebrae are exposed to you. The white bone is a stark contrast against the blood and flesh, a vile set of stars on red skies. It appears as though the skin of his back has been scraped away, leaving a gory mess in its place. You can see the vein where the blood is coming from, pulsing and dripping red with every fragile beat of his heart.

Oh, your Sanji,

You’re going to set fire to the island after this.

“Hey” you tell him softly, trying to keep the fire-hot rage in your chest from dripping into your words. “Hey, I have to stop the bleeding. I have to grab it, and it’s gonna hurt.”

You quickly pull your second layer jacket off, laying it over Sanji’s bare front to try and stop his trembling. The shaking of his body only makes it worse, blood seeming to soak the snow around you faster and faster the colder he gets

“I’m sorry” you whisper to him before reaching beneath his back.

Hot bile rushes up your throat the instant your hand finds its target. His flesh is slippery with blood, oddly warm and throbbing when you grab his vein in your fingertips. You have to turn your head down and talk yourself through deep, shaking breaths to keep all the contents of your stomach from joining the blood in the snow.

Sanji moans when you give a particularly hard gag. He hisses in pain, gritting his teeth like it’s all as simple as removing a splinter or dressing a kitchen burn.

“I’m so sorry” you apologize despite his rather subdued reaction to having a vein tugged upon. “I’m sorry, I have to hurt you to stop it.”

He licks his lips, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. They make little flakes of ice collect in his lashes.

“Please” he begs, his voice barely anything. “Please, I can’t move my legs, angel. Go get Nami and Luffy inside.”

“I don’t care if I have to get as buff as Zoro and carry you everywhere for the rest of my life. I’m not leaving you.”

Of all the things Sanji could do, he smiles. His pink, plush lips are starting to gray.

He’s still bleeding. Do better.

“I don’t want you to get cold” he whispers. “Look at your goosebumps, Pretty.”

The laugh comes through the tears.

Oh, my Sanji don’t die. Who else could make me laugh here? Now? Don’t leave me behind.

“Shut up. No more talking. You have to rest.”

“Princess saving the prince?”

You nod. “Princess saving the prince.”

Sanji exhales then, his eyes drifting up to look at the sky. There’s barely anything of him left. The skin of his cheeks is white. His breath is all but gone.

Your Sanji is all but gone.

The little boy that used to peek at you from the kitchen doors of Baratie. Gone.

Swimming in the warm sea together, letting your skin burn under the summer sun. Gone.

Falling in love with him. Knowing you’re in love with him. The pain of being in love with him. Gone

Him, the first person to ever love you, the first person you’ve ever truly loved, the only person in the world you’d die for.

Dead.

Your heart hits your stomach like a boulder.

“Sanji!”

You’re shaking him. Gods, you don’t want to hurt him, but there’s something not right in the way his eyelashes have begun to bat quickly, the way his fingers are death-gripping his clothes.

He’s dead.

He’s gone.

“Sanji” you demand, the hysterics finally bubbling to the surface. “Look at me. Sanji? Please. Please, no. No, no, no, no, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

His eyelids drift shut.

You’re weeping now, pathetic in a pile in the bloodied snow, but you pay your shame no mind.

“Sanji!” You snap, enraged at yourself for yelling at him but more enraged at him for dying. “Please don’t leave me alone. I don’t wanna be alone again.”

“Pretty?”

Your tears are dripping onto his skin.

“Sanji?”

He flips his hand, using his finger to gesture you close. You obey.

You expect a whisper, a gentle word or two, but instead Sanji uses what little might he has left to grab a fistful of your shirt and pull your lips against his.

“Hey kid, you should come put something in your stomach.”

The doctor’s voice startles you from your trance, forcing your head back to look at her.

Dr. Kureha lurks behind you, her arms crossed over her chest. You swear that the woman hasn’t slept since you arrived, but she isn’t showing a single sign of being tired. She’s just as agitated as she was when you arrived, just as annoyed.

You haven’t received much gentile from her since your arrival to her castle, but there’s something about her face now that’s soft.

“Eat” she tells you, the demand coming off with an air of sadness. “You’ve got a couple nasty cuts and bruises yourself. You need a good meal.”

You glance back at the man lying before you, Sanji’s perfect face marred with black and blue as he sleeps the day away. As beautiful as he looks, as darling as he is to you, looking at him in this moment is physically painful for you. His entire body seems to be wrapped in bandages. His breathing -to you- sounds a little labored, different than it normally does when you lay your head on his chest for a nap on the deck.

You shrug. “I’m gonna stay with him. Thank you, Doctor.”

A hand comes down on your shoulder. It doesn’t pull or shove, but gives you a soft squeeze.

“You’re an idiot in love” she reminds you, her words accompanied by a small laugh. “Come on. You’re no use to him if you starve to death.”

Kureha’s words ring loudly in your head, but for all the wrong reasons. Sanji is going to wake up hungry, no one from Baratie to make a good meal for him. Sure, he’s taught you how to cook in the years you’ve been best friends, but you’re nothing compared to him and his old coworkers. Looking back at his injuries, the only thought that plagues your mind is the image of Sanji, hungry, panicked, and covered in his cuts and bruises.

“When will he wake up?” You ask her. “He’s gonna be hungry. It makes him nervous.”

The doctor strides up beside you, laying the back of her hand on Sanji’s forehead.

“He’s cooled down” she tells you. “His infection seems better.”

She walks around you then and pinches hard on Sanji’s ankle. He flinches, his beautiful face scrunching, his foot kicking up toward her hand.

“And his spine is resting well, it looks like.”

To see Sanji able to move his legs seems to pull a weight from your shoulders. You tried your best not to let is show, but there was nothing scarier in that moment of finding your crew in the snow than hearing Sanji say he couldn’t feel his legs. You knew that if he did survive his ordeal, he’d be broken to know he’d have to learn how to cook without his ability to walk.

The thing is, you were fully prepared to learn right along with him.

Usopp would lower the counters.

Nami would pay for it.

Zero would be just as mean.

Luffy would be just as demanding for meals.

The thought of your crew makes the first smile in days come to your lips. Of course you had nothing to worry for, nothing to fear.

You look over your shoulder then to peak at your captain. The tan boy lies on his back, long arms tossed from the side of his bed as he snores. You don’t know why, but something about him makes you feel safe. Maybe it’s because you know that he’ll never leave your crew behind. Maybe it’s because you know he couldn’t.

Dr. Kureha resorts to pulling at the collar of your shirt when you get lost in your thoughts. “Get up. We’re getting some food.”

You give Sanji’s hand one last squeeze before rising to your feet.

Kureha is smiling when you face her. “Atta girl. Come on.”

You reluctantly follow her out of the room, shutting the door behind you to let the boys rest without your constant worrying. You know they can’t really feel your anxiety in their sleep, but you can’t help the guilty twinge in your gut that your worry will only scare them.

What a funny thing you can be.

“Chopper wants to eat with us” Kureha tells you once the door is shut. “You mind?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Chopper? Your little reindeer?”

The doctor smirks at you, something poisonous in that smile of hers. “Yeah, my little reindeer.”

You shrug. “He’s precious. I don’t mind, as long I can pet him.”

For some reason, Kureha begins to laugh. “You’ll have to ask him how okay he is with that, but I don’t think he’ll mind if you’re nice.”

Kureha rounds the corner with you into her living space, but as soon as you do, you stop dead in your tracks.

A little…reindeer? Boy? Boy deer?

A little -creature, you decide- sits at the table. They’re tiny, maybe the size of a small child, chubby with little hooves sitting upon the table. Their back legs don’t quite hit the floor, so they swing them back and forth slowly.

They’re damn near the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, and they’re donned in Chopper’s big red hat.

“Chopper” Kureha begins. “Ready for dinner?”

Chopper. This is Chopper, the deer that pulled the sleigh into the castle.

He’s eaten a Devil Fruit. You’re sure of it.

The little reindeer narrows his eyes, but says nothing.

You smile, doing your best to hide the shock. “I’m sorry if I’m invading. I hope you don’t mind, Chopper.”

Upon hearing you speak to him, he seems to settle into his seat at the table. “I don’t mind.”

Oh, that little voice. You want to scoop him up into your arms and never put him down.

You take the seat across from him and continue to look his way as Dr. Kureha meanders over to the stove to grab what looks like a stew from it. Chopper is eyeballing you intensely, the serious look on his face not quite matching how cute he is. His eyes roam your face.

When he makes eye contact with you, he wrinkles his nose. “How do your bruises feel?”

“Good” you assure him. “Dr. Kureha took good care of me.”

You swear that if the reindeer didn’t have fur, he’d be blushing. “Actually, it was me that patched you up.”

You can’t help the way your jaw seems to drop to the table. “You’re a doctor?”

He nods furiously.

Your heart nearly bursts seeing him so filled to the brim with joy. He has such an innocence about him, such a sweetness. He’s just purely kind.

The moment makes you feel something, something akin to when you discovered Sanji was a chef.

You narrow your eyes, watching as Sanji pours cream into a pan sizzling away on the stove. The smell is absolutely heavenly. It’s what got you in the kitchen in the first place, got you to wander away from your parents and hunt down your best friend.

“What are you making?” You wonder, hoisting yourself onto the step stool next to him and peering into the pan.

He smiles, maybe brighter than you’ve ever seen. “Potato purée. It’s a side that Zeff wants to try out.”

The food in the pan looks divine, garlic and potatoes cooking into an aromatic blend. Your stomach growls. Zeff cooked an amazing meal for your family already this evening, but you hesitated to fill your belly with the way your mother was looking at you from the corner of her eye. If Sanji offers to feed you, you may just devour the entire pan yourself.

“Zeff trusts you to cook?” You question. “My mom would kill me if I went anywhere near the stove.”

Sanji snorts a bit. “Fancy pants rich McGee over here. We don’t all have maids that cook for us.”

You frown. There’s never really been too much banter between the two of you, Sanji always acting as the perfect gentleman despite only being ten years old. His attitude is new, and a little off putting. You almost feel the pressure of tears swelling in your bottom lid.

He seems to notice your silence instantly. His face falls as terror overrides his sweet face. “I’m sorry, Pretty” he rushes out. “I just meant that there’s nothing wrong with learning how to cook. I can teach you.”

He grabs a little spoon then, scooping a bit of the mixture he’s preparing and offering it to you.

“Try it” he urges. “I swear, you’ll like it. I work in a restaurant for a reason.”

You hesitate. It isn’t that you don’t love and trust Sanji, but you’ve never seen another child cook in all your life. Your mother has always kept your far away from the kitchen all your life.

“Darling, you’ll burn yourself.”

“Please, you might undercook food and get sick.”

“Hon, you might cut yourself on a knife.”

Huh, Sanji must be pretty brave to be working away in the kitchen. His smile even makes it seem like he’s enjoying himself.

You look up at him, and when you’re met with those bright blue eyes, your skepticism falls away.

You blow softly on the concoction, watching as the steam leaves the spoon and pools around Sanji’s face. He smiles, but you can tell there are nerves behind the dimpled grin.

The liquid sends warmth through your chest the instant it touches your tongue. It’s divine. It may just be a simple side or soup -you aren’t quite sure- but somehow it tastes the way that staying up late and telling ghost stories with Sanji feels. It’s cozy. It’s comfort. It’s perfectly Sanji. 

You smile. “Wow. Sanji, that’s really yummy.”

All the nerves fade from his smile. It becomes even wider. This is the first time you notice that he’s finally lost his front tooth, something you’ve been teasing him about for weeks. 

“Wait until it’s done” he beams. “I’m gonna put it with some salmon and Zeff is gonna let me have my own thing on the menu.”

On and on he goes, chattering away about all the dishes Zeff has been teaching him to make. It gets to a point where you really aren’t too sure what he's describing, but you don’t stop him. It’s rare to see your best friend so animated. All you can do is savor the moment, and log each little smile and laugh to memory.

Dr. Kureha drops a bowl of soup and some bread before you. Some of the soup unceremoniously sloshes out and lands on the table before you. “Eat up, kids.”

Chopper begins to devour his food immediately. You’re amazed that he can hold utensils as well as he can in the divide of his hoof. The little reindeer is full of surprises.

You stir the soup a bit, staring into the bowl. Truth be told, you aren’t really all that hungry. You haven’t been in the two days you’ve been here. Sanji has been your main concern. Knowing that there’s a chance he’ll wake up and not be able to walk has been wholly terrifying to you. Even now with that stress beginning to subside, there’s still no urge in you to eat knowing how starving Sanji is going to be when he wakes. You begin to feel the nerves returning then.

What if he wakes while you’re away? What if he looks for you? What if he’s afraid?

Chopper bats those big, wide eyes up to you.

“You should eat” he prompts you softly. “It‘ll help you heal faster.”

It’s hard not to want to do whatever he tells you in that sweet little voice. He was careful to stay out of sight for the last few days, a skittish thing, and you don’t want to risk doing anything that might scare him away.

You give him a little smile. “Of course. Just thinking.”

He slurps down another spoonful of soup. “What’s bothering you?”

Like a flash, the image of Sanji laying in the snow plagues your mind. You can nearly smell the blood, feel the slick of the liquid on your hands.

“Tired” you half-lie. “It’s been a long few days.”

Before the little reindeer can respond, Dr. Kureha takes a seat at the table with her own bowl of food. “Sitting at blondie’s bedside isn’t going to help that. You need to crawl into a bed and get some sleep.”

You give a half hearted laugh. “Wouldn’t be able to sleep if I couldn’t see him. I’m a little, uh, protective, I suppose.”

You see Dr. Kureha smirk out of the corner of your eye. “He your boyfriend or something?”

Huh.

Boyfriend.

Sanji reaches his hand out to you.

“Come on” he urges. “You can do it. It’s not that bad.”

You cross your arms over your chest and huff. There has to be a mad blush shading your cheeks at this point, but you’re far past caring. “No. I’m terrible at this, Sanji. I’m gonna embarrass the shit out of myself on Friday.”

Sanji laughs. “Stop it. You think whatever guy you’re gonna be dancing with is gonna know what he’s doing?”

“Yes!” You sigh. “Everyone in their weird rich people cult does. It’s like they pop ‘em out knowing which forks go where and how to do a Waltz.”

He softly takes your hand then, pulling you toward him and laying his hand on your hip. It’s a chaste touch, distance between you with fingers laid on the curve of your abdomen, but it still makes your skin positively burn.

You want nothing more than to just close the distance between the two of you. It’s moments like this where he’s borderline impossible not to kiss. It’s like your body is calling for him. You crave the feeling of those rosy lips on you, so curious to just to know.

Sanji takes a small step to the side and urges you to sway with him. “You’re the birthday girl” he continues on. “If you just want to sway around, that’s what you can do and no one can say a thing.”

You huff. “I don’t want to embarrass my mom. Gods know she’ll tell me if I do.”

For the first time since the evening began, Sanji’s smile fades. It’s like watching the sun implode into darkness right before your eyes.

“You’re not embarrassing. Your birthday is supposed to be fun.”

You sigh, stepping a bit closer to Sanji and burying your head in his shoulder. He smells like cigarettes, his hair faintly scented with a citrusy musk. If only this smell could lull you to sleep at night. If only you could spend the nights curled up in his arms, safe from the world by his side. 

He’s right of course. Your birthday is supposed to be fun, but it simply hasn’t been for you in the last few years. Your parents are more than antsy to have you married off the instant you turn eighteen. Every year since you turned thirteen, they’ve been hosting lavish parties of all the highest-ranking naval officers in hopes they’d bring their eligible bachelor sons with them. Your birthdays have become speed dates with every teenaged boy in and above your tax bracket.

“I don’t want to get married next year” you mumble suddenly, speaking against Sanji’s chest.

He exhales softly, the warmth of his breath ruffling your hair. “Do you really think they’re gonna make you?”

You nod. “I think they might give me a few years of grace if I really try to find someone I like, but if I just resist them, I think they’re gonna find someone for me. They’re getting frustrated.”

Sanji hums, his sway stopping as he pulls you against him. “Let’s run away. We can take my shopping boat and go be pirates together.”

A laugh finds its way up from your throat. “Yes, because my marine dad would love his only child becoming a pirate.”

“We won’t tell him” Sanji proclaims, taking your hand and beginning the tiny dance again. “We’ll go find the All Blue together and build our own restaurant. We’ll get rich.”

This makes you laugh a true, gut laugh.

“Sanji” you begin, tilting back in his arms and letting him sway you back and forth with his grip around your waist. “I have no skills that are helpful in a restaurant.”

“Not true!” He informs you through a laugh. “You’re good with your sword. You can chase off the riff raff.”

“So us becoming pirates wouldn’t make us the riff raff?”

He snorts a bit, pulling you back up so the two of you are now face to face.

His soft smile makes your heart go still in your chest.

“We’ll be good riff raff.”

Don’t kiss him. Don’t kiss Sanji. Don’t kiss your best friend.

The door of the Baratie swinging open grabs your attention, both of you turning your heads to see Zeff standing in the doorway.

“Oi, keep some breathing room between ya, got it?” The old cook demands.

Sanji rolls his eyes and lets his hands drop from your hips. The separation is like a death.

Dr. Kureha taps her spoon on the edge of her bowl. “Hey, your head feeling alright kid?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. I’m exhausted.”

She furrows her brow, scooping more stew into her mouth. You get the feeling that she’s being very observant of you every time she looks upon you, like she’s considering something about you. You’re not sure why. Surely if she’d ask you, you’d tell her, but she doesn’t seem like the kind of person to be outright with emotional questions.

After this momentary stare down, Chopper chimes in from where he sits across from you.

“I know you don’t want to leave your friends, so I can set up a mattress on the floor for you so you can rest.”

Your gaze lingers one more moment on Doctrine before you look to the little reindeer. He’s wearing a wide grin, his teeth showing.

“You don’t have to, Chopper” you tell him softly. “I’m fine, really. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

The little doctor aggressively shakes his head. “No! You need sleep. I’d be a bad doctor if I let you exhaust yourself without helping you.”

There’s something in that sweet little voice that’s just so hard to say no to. He genuinely just wants to help, make sure you’re healthy. It’s been awhile since your crew has been treated with that sort of heartfelt kindness.

You smile, looking to Dr. Kureha. “I hope that’s okay. We’ve already intruded on your guys enough.”

She shrugs. “Don’t give a shit what you kids do as long as no one gets in the way of treating your friends.”

You hate to admit it, but something about the woman’s harsh tone is rather comforting to you. It reminds you of the way Zeff used to scold you and Sanji.

Chopper slams his spoon down in the bowl then, smiling brightly. “I’ll go get everything set up for you! You need rest.”

He hops down, little hooves clicking against the floor as he exits the room. You could just eat him up with how precious he is. It tickles you a bit, knowing someone so little and cute is something as heavy as a doctor. You wonder then what he’s seen, what he’s been through. It makes you ache a bit.

How could the world be so unkind to someone so small that they feel the need to become a savior?

The doctor dropping her own spoon into her bowl grabs your attention. She turns to you and frowns.

“What you did was pretty intense” she begins, grabbing her own bowl and rising to her feet. “You okay in the head, kid?”

You tilt your head. “What did I do?”

She drops her bowl in the sink, turning on the faucet. “Knowing where and how to grab an artery is impressive. How’d you know what to do?”

You shy away from the strange compliment. When you keep your hands idle for too long, you can still feeling the lukewarm, slippery feeling of gripping the inside of Sanji’s back. It makes your stomach twist, your bile raise.

“I was raised by a marine admiral. You learn a lot of terrible shit when your dad is in the military.”

“Strict?”

You shake your head. “I’m his entire life. Letting me go to be a pirate was the hardest thing he ever did. Part of loving me so much was teaching me how to take care of myself, how to save myself. Sometimes that got dark, I guess.”

Kureha approaches, gesturing to your still-filled bowl. “Eat. That injury on him is never gonna heal all the way. He should be able to walk when he wakes up, but you’re gonna have to do pain management, probably for the rest of his life.

You do as you’re told, scooping another spoonful of chowder into your mouth despite being a little bamboozled by the way her sentences take so many twists and turns.

“How are you kids sleeping at night on your ship? A hammock or swinging bed isn’t gonna cut it for him for a few weeks.”

“Hammocks for the boys” you reply. “I have a bed, though. So does Nami.”

“Nami’s the girl with the infection?”

You nod.

“Well” she begins as she takes a seat across from you at the table again. “If he’s your little boyfriend, it shouldn’t be a problem to let him sleep in your bed for awhile.”

There it is again, that word.

Boyfriend.

“Yeah, that won’t be an issue” you assure her, knowing damn well that she can see the wild blush on your cheeks. “I’d do anything to make sure he gets better.”

The doctor smirks and looks as though she’s going to continue to speak, but the conversation is cut off by a bloodcurdling scream from the other room. You turn so quickly that your back cracks and aches, the speed at which you fly to your feet making your knees creak.

Dr. Kureha shoots up out of her chair just as Chopper comes barreling into the room, little legs carrying him as fast as they can.

“Help!” He shrieks, dashing under the bed Nami rests in. “They’re gonna eat me, Doctorine!”

Before either of you can ask anything of the little reindeer, Luffy and Sanji come spilling into the room through the doorway, both shirtless and bruised with crazed looks in their eyes.

“Sanji! Luffy!” You snarl, that familiar need to scold the boys rising to your chest the instant you catch sight of their misbehavior. “Stop! What the fuck?”

Luffy points wildly at Chopper who’s still hiding under the bed. “Sanji’s gonna cook that talking reindeer and make me food!”

Chopper screams. You can’t help but begin to laugh.

“Guys, that’s Chopper. You can’t eat him” you inform them as Dr. Kureha reaches under the bed, pulling Chopper from his hiding place. “He’s a doctor.”

The little reindeer growls at the boys, but can’t get down from Doctorine’s arms. Luffy looks horribly unsatisfied.

“What can we eat, then?” He wonders, a pout on his face. “I’m starving! Food!”

Just as you’re about to answer him, you notice Sanji seem to come to his senses. He reaches his arm around his midsection, slipping down until he’s leaning against the doorframe. He winces in pain the instant his back makes contact with the stone wall.

“Sanji?”

You join him on the floor, reaching out to pull him into your chest and relieve his back from the pressure of the wall. He buries his face into your shoulder, taking a deep, shaking breath. You feel the tears. They’re hot and dreadful, but as much as you want to take his face in your hands and wipe away his agony, you don’t want to embarrass him in front of Luffy.

“Why the hell are you two morons out of bed?” Doctorine snaps, setting Chopper back down onto the floor.

Luffy ignores her, going your side. “Sanji? You okay?”

Sanji nods, lifting his head then and plastering a smile onto his face. “Yep, just sore.”

Doctorine kneels down by the three of you and presses her hand down in Sanji’s lower back without saying a word. He falls into you again, crying out into the crook of your neck. You swipe Dr. Kureha’s hand away.

“Stop” you snap at her. “You’re hurting him.”

“I don’t think he re-injured anything” she determines, taking no note of your aggression. “But the area was torn apart something nasty. You need to get back into bed and stay there.”

You run your hands through Sanji’s hair. He’s sweaty, a bit unkempt. It’s a rare sight for your stylish and put-together best friend.

“Come on” your urge him. “Let’s get you back into bed. I need some sleep, too. I’ll stay with you.”

He nuzzles into your neck. It sends a shockwave through you. He’s so delicate, so sweet. You almost have the urge to release him from your arms so that you don’t hurt him.

“How can I say no when a beautiful woman is gonna sleep in the same room as me?” he teases despite the twinges of pain in his voice.

You giggle a bit. “I’ll sleep in your bed if that’s what gets you back in there.”

Sanji doesn’t need to be told twice to crawl into bed with you. He allows you and Luffy to help him to his feet, holding onto you tightly.

“Go” Kureha urges the two of you. “Both of you need to get your asses to sleep.”

Sanji leans on you the entire time you walk back to his assigned bed, nearly collapsing when the two of you get close enough for him to lie down.

“Sanji” you fret. “My God. What were you thinking, jumping up like that when you’re hurt?”

He groans as you help him lie back down on his belly. “I was thinking that my captain was hungry and I had to feed him.”

You giggle and begin to stroke his hair. “How heroic. How do you feel?”

He does his best to shrug. “Terrible, but better because there’s a beautiful lady in bed with me.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the blush that rises to your cheeks.

“Sanji” you begin, feeling knots start to tie in your gut. “Do uh, do you remember anything about me finding you guys?”

He lets his eyes drift shut, taking a deep breath.

“Hm. No, I don’t think so. I’m sorry you had to see that. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, Pretty.”

“Me?” You wonder. “Sanji, you fractured your spine and severed an artery. I haven’t been through anything compared to you.”

Sanji’s voice comes quiet, a bit shaky. “I what?”

Ah. He wouldn’t really know the extent of his injuries. He’s been unconscious for days.

“I separated from you guys to try and get those animals to back off. I found you when I climbed up the side of the mountain. You told me you couldn’t move your legs and you were bleeding from your back bad.”

He opens his eyes and rolls his head around so he can look up at you. There are tears. They kill you.

“Pretty, I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”

You shrug, trying to keep the memory of Sanji in the snow out of your mind.

“You told me you didn’t want to die” you whispered. “You told me to leave you, though.”

He reaches for your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Even the simple touch gets your heart racing.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

You kneel down beside him so you can look into his eyes, smiling to try and soothe his ever-growing worry.

“Don’t apologize for getting Nami here safely, Sanji. You saved her life” you remind him.

“I scared you” he whispers. “I’m sorry, Pretty.”

You gently boop his nose, making him smile. “I love you. Don’t apologize.”

It might just be the cold, but a blush rushes to his cheeks at your words. Goddamn, he’s too sweet for you. He’s practically giving you cavities by just smiling at you.

You lower your gaze then, looking down into your hands.

There’s one piece of information about this ordeal that you haven’t shared with Sanji just yet.

Something in you doesn’t particularly want to tell him that he kissed you. Ever since it happened, you’ve been going back in forth in your mind, trying to decide what it could mean.

Did he just kiss you because he was scared, stressed? Was he delusional from all the blood he had lost?

Did he truly mean it?

Every option would send you reeling. If he didn’t mean it, you’d be heartbroken and a little embarrassed. Years of loving him quietly would end in a faux kiss brought on by pain and delusion.

If he did mean it, you could have everything you’ve always wanted. You could be with him.

“You can’t be with him. It’s not an option.”

Your mother paces around the room as she speaks, her hands tangled in her hair.

“You can’t be with him” she repeats, her voice filled to the brim with venom. “No. Will you please say something to her?”

You look to your father, vision blurred by the tears in your eyes. He rubs his hand down his face.

“Isn’t this a non issue?” He begins. “If Zeff won’t let her marry the damn kid, what’s the problem?”

Your mother throws her hands up in the air as if to surrender. “Right, because he’d say no if we went to him and said ‘hi Zeff, do you want your unruly, rude son who’s probably going to be impossible to marry off to marry into our wealthy, well-respected family?’”

“Don’t be rude to Sanji” you mutter, coming to your friend’s rescue being the only thing you can think to do. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“He gives customers concussions on a weekly basis! He’s a mess! He’s a waiter!”

“He’s a cook” you correct her. “He’s smart, and he’s kind, and he respects me unlike the half the morons you’ve tried to set me up with.”

Your mother points at you with a venomous look on her face. “Don’t you cop an attitude with me. Your father and I have been busting our butts for the last three years to try and find someone respectable for you to marry, someone that can take care of you, and the only time you ever show any interest in a man is for Sanji?”

“Honey, please-”

“Don’t” -your mother’s accusatory finger flies to point at your dad- “Defend her. We’ve given her everything she could ask for for the last nineteen years and now she’s trying to put me in an early grave.”

“You don’t think you’re overreacting a little bit?” Your father argues. “She has enough training to where she could become a marine if she wanted to and pay her own way. I don’t think it’s completely necessary to dictate who she marries if she proves she can take care of herself.”

“A woman’s husband is supposed to take care of her, not the other way around.”

“Is that why you married me?”

The room falls silent after your father’s words fall into the air. You can feel their weight as if it were you they were directed at, feel the way they must have slammed straight into your mother’s chest and taken her breath away. You almost feel sorry for her.

Your mother lowers her gaze, staring down at the expensive pair of shoes your father surely bought for her.

You look to your dad. He’s staring at your mother with intensity, his eyes dark. You’ve never heard your father raise his voice at your mother in nineteen years. He’s always soft with her, kind. It reminds you much of the way that Sanji is with you.

Finally, your mother looks back up and sighs. “I love you because you’re a strong man and you take care of me and our daughter.”

“And I love Sanji because he respects me and makes me feel safe. Is that not enough?” You interrupt, the tears now flowing down your cheeks in excess.

Your mother shakes her head. “That’s all well and good until you realize that love isn’t the only part of a relationship. There’s financial and domestic things you need to take into account.”

Your father rolls his eyes. “I just said that she can become a marine if she wants to. Does it bother you that much to have a man cooking for her and not the other way around?”

“It’s not the cooking that bothers me” she snaps back. “It’s the fact that she’s the breadwinner in their marriage. What happens when she has babies? Who works? Who makes money to take care of the kids?”

“What if we don’t want kids?”

Your mother audibly gasps. “Don’t even say things like that. You come from an honorable and respected family. Not having children is social suicide for a woman in politics.”

“Bold of you to assume I care about politics and social standing.”

“So you want to be the breadwinner for your cook husband, but you don’t care about the very thing that could provide you with money?”

You bury your head in your hands and sigh. There’s practically no reasoning with your mother when she gets like this. She’s always been one to make everything about herself.

Your career has to be good enough to maintain her social standing.

Your marriage has to be politically upward.

Your have to have children so she can have grandchildren.

There are days where you feel like it’s her world that you’re just living in. You’re sure your father often feels the same way, but it’s rare that he argues against her like this. It seems that his appreciation for your and Sanji’s friendship is bolstering him this evening.

“I can’t deal with this anymore” your mother grumbles.

You lift your head from your hands to find your mother exiting the room.

“Come find me when you’re done being immature” she announces, unclear when she’s talking about you or your father. “You are not marrying Sanji. Don’t ever suggest it again.”

With that, she’s gone, the door slamming shut behind her. She leaves behind the same emptiness she always leaves. It feels like awkwardness, but a little more wicked, a little more damaging. Just like always, all you can do is sit and wait for the feeling to end.

You and your father sit in silence for what feels like too long. Neither of you speak. Neither of you even look at each other. The only sound to be heard is the pattering of the light rain on the windows of your home.

“Hon?”

You look up to your dad. There’s a melancholy expression on his face that you’ve never seen.

“I’m sorry” he tells you quietly. “Why didn’t you come to me with this? Why didn’t you say something?”

It’s so sick that you nearly laugh. “She just reacted like that and you’re asking me why I didn’t tell you sooner?”

You dad looks down and chuckles. “I guess. Why didn’t you tell just me?”

You shrug. “I don’t exactly want to talk about the boy I have a crush on with my dad.”

He waves you over then, patting the spot on the couch beside him. You rise to your feet and join him. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you close the moment you sit down. He feels like home, smells like home. If you were to close your eyes, you could imagine falling asleep in the family room and waking to him carrying you to your room.

“I like Sanji” he tells you, bringing you out of your thoughts. “I do. I think he respects you and he’s a nice kid.”

“Then why does mom have such an issue with me having a crush on him?”

He shakes his head. “Your mother comes from money. The only thing she knows is what she was taught. You need to give her grace when you’re trying to assimilate her with different ways of thinking.”

You snort. “And you’re just okay with that?”

“No” he reveals. “But everyone has something. You need to learn to live with the flaws of whoever you marry.”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

You lean your head on your father’s shoulder. He hugs you close, giving a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Dad?”

“Hm?”

You bury your face in his shoulder when you speak, hoping maybe that your words will be muffled enough so he wouldn’t hear you.

“I love him.”

“You okay, Pretty?”

You shake your head. “Sorry. Thinking.”

“What about, my darling?” Sanji wonders, the pet name making your head spin.

His voice is so sweet to you, gentle and soft like the warmth of crawling to bed after a long day. It’s your home, your comfort.

You lean your head on the edge if his bed, staring into those captivating blue eyes.

“Thinking about you” you tell him honestly. “You scared me, Sanji. You getting hurt is one thing, but you told me to leave you to die.”

He struggles then to roll onto his side. His groan is painful to you, making your already tired heart ache. He looks at you with sad eyes once he’s settled back in.

“I’m sorry, beautiful” he whispers. “My worst fear is something hurting you because of me. My worst nightmare is hurting you.”

You reach your hand to him and begin to trace little patterns on his arm. His eyes drift closed as you do, something resembling peace flooding his strained features.

“I will never leave you to die” you breathe. “Don’t ever ask me to again, Sanji.”

He appears to heed the seriousness in your voice, nodding his head. “Never again, my love.”

My love.

You could die. It would be less painful than this pulling in your heart, this desire to be with him, to touch him. You can lie all you want and say that you can handle the distance, handle the yearning, but it hurts. It’s hurt for ten years.

“Sanji?”

“Princess?”

You stroke the back of your finger down his cheek. He exhales, warm breath flooding over your palm.

“Are you sure you don’t remember anything about me finding you guys?” You press. “Nothing at all?”

He darts his eyes away, his lower lip falling between his teeth to be gently nibbled. You’d sell your soul for that to be your lip.

“No” he sighs. “Why? Did something else happen? You really don’t seem like yourself.”

Should you just let it go?

You shrug. “I…I don’t know if I should tell you, to be honest.”

He narrows his eyes. “If it’s bothering you, I’d like to know. I can fix whatever’s making you unhappy.”

It isn’t making you unhappy. It’s the one thing you’ve always wanted.

“You…”

“I?”

You can feel it now, the roughness of  his lips, the warmth of his breath against your tongue in the bitter cold.

You crave it. You feel mad in wanting for it.

“Sanji, you kissed me” you blurt out, the words sounding foreign on your tongue. “You wanted me to come closer and I thought you were gonna say something to me, but you kissed me, and then Doctorine showed up and you passed out.”

A silence falls over the two of you once all your loud babbling is done. Sanji is white as a sheet, just staring through you as though you’re no longer in front of him. His mouth is slightly agape. Those eyes are blank, none of their usual joy swimming in them.

You pull your hand away from his cheek. “Sanji?”

His eyes seem to focus back on you. He swallows harshly before forcibly hiking himself up onto his elbow.

You lay a hand on his shoulder, trying gently to guide him back to bed.

He doesn’t budge.

“I…I kissed you?”

You nod.

“I” -he points to himself- “kissed you?”

“Yes” you clarify. “You kissed me. On the lips.”

He reaches his hand up and grips his hair. There’s panic in his eyes, terror that has drained all the color from every inch of his skin.

“I am so - I mean, I didn’t mean to…oh my Gods. I didn’t mean to offend you or-or upset you. Oh gods. I-”

You begin to softly hush him then, cutting off his panic. Your hand comes up to cradle his icy skin.

“Sanji” you soothe. “It’s fine. You didn’t offend me.”

He shakes his head. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was on the verge of tears.

“I am so, so sorry” he whispers. “I never meant to do anything like that without asking you. I don’t know what I was thinking, kissing you without your permission.”

You stroke your thumb along his cheek. “You have my permission.”

His eyes go so wide you swear they’re going to pop out of his head. “What?”

You heart is slamming. You can hear your blood flowing in your ears, but you ignore it.

“To kiss me” you tell him, your voice wavering. “You have my permission to kiss me again. If you want to, of course.”

From where your hand has wandered down to his neck, you can feel his pulse quickening with every passing second. He has no words for you. There’s pure shock washed over his eyes. His stare is glazed, locked on your face with a dropped jaw.

You try to give him a comforting smile.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask.

He licks his lips.

“Please. Please kiss me.”

You do as is requested of you. You close the distance, gently guiding Sanji’s lips to yours.

He doesn’t move at first, just lets you press your lips against his. They’re rough, dry. His mouth is hot, maybe from the fever, maybe from his insanely aggressive pulse.

He seems to catch on after a second. His hand comes up to stroke your cheek, pulling you closer so that he can truly feel you, taste you.

This can’t be happening right now. I’m kissing Sanji. I’m kissing the love of my life.

He hums into your lips. The vibration is stunning. You whine, leaning over the bed and letting your hand up into Sanji’s hair. You don’t care that it’s greasy. You don’t care that his teeth aren’t brushed and his skin is dry. He’s safe. He’s with you.

He’s kissing you.

The last thing you want to do is pull away from him, but you can feel his body beginning to shake from holding up his own weight. You pull your lips away only to have his give chase.

“Sanji” you giggle. “Come on. You need to lay down and rest.”

“I need to kiss you” he breathes. “I need to kiss you enough to make up for the last ten years of not kissing you, my sweet. I need to show you how much love I have bottled up for you.”

Your smile is so big that your jaw is starting to hurt. “Ji, I love you. We have a lot of time.”

He nuzzles his nose against yours. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I looked out the Baratie doors and saw you sitting there with your parents.”

You softly kiss the tip of his cold nose. “Lay down. Rest, my love.”

He gives a breathy chuckle. “Say that again.”

You shake your head, not quite understanding his words.

“My love?”

“Again.”

You kiss him before speaking against his lips. “My love.”

He finally, settles laying back down on his side and letting his head rest against the pillow. You rise to your feet.

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” You wonder. “I don’t want to make it hard for you to sleep.”

He shakes his head, a nearly fearful expression on his face. “My queen should never sleep on the floor, not a day in her life. Get in bed.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide in beside him, his arm immediately coming up to wrap tightly around your waist.

It all feels right, perfect. His arm fits over you like a puzzle piece, like you were made to lay in the curve of his body.

“I love you, Sanji” you breathe.

He kisses the back of your head. “I love you. Rest. You deserve a good night of sleep.”

You snuggle even closer to Sanji, letting the beating of his heart lull you into your first sleep in days.

~

“You’ve barely slept in days.”

Nami puts her hands on your shoulders as she speaks, gently rubbing the aching muscles.

You shake your head. “I’m sleeping just fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Vivi and I can help take care of him, you know” she reminds you, her voice softer than it normally is. “He’s much better behaved now that he’s actually getting attention from a woman.”

You laugh, reaching up to softly ruffle Nami’s hair. “I’ve got him. I’m not exactly complaining that I get to cuddle and massage my boyfriend all day long.”

Nami gives you a laugh, rolling her eyes. “First of all, ew. Second of all, what’s it like? I mean, I know you’ve had a crush on him since forever.”

You feel a hot blush rising to your cheeks. Though it’s been a few weeks now since you and Sanji first told the crew you were dating, you still find yourself getting flustered whenever someone brings it up.

You shrug. “It uh, it seems normal, weirdly enough. We’ve been best friends for so long that the only thing that’s really different is uh, well all the kissing, I guess.”

Nami wrinkles her nose, but the smile remains on her face. “That’s disgusting. I’m happy for you, though.”

You grab the little tray up off the counter that you’ve been filling with water, snacks for Sanji, and his medicine. “Thanks. I’m sorry we’ve been kind of invading the bedroom lately. I promise that as soon he can sleep on his back, he’s going back to the boy’s room.”

She waves you off. “I don’t care. If he dies we have to go back to eating Zoro’s food. No one wants that.”

“Of course” you tell her, trying to stifle the laugh that’s coming up from your throat. “Tell everyone we’ll be up for dinner in a bit. I’m gonna wake him up.”

Nami nods, leaving you then as she makes her way from the kitchen.

Despite Sanji’s injuries, the last few weeks have been soft, peaceful. You spend your days cuddled in bed beside him, rubbing his back and listening to him tell you stories Zeff used to read to him as a little boy. You make him food and nap at his side. When he gets bored, the two of you head up to the deck where you bask together in the sun.

Sanji is napping away when you enter your bedroom. He snores softly, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed, both long legs sticking out from under the duvet.

You smile. This is all you’ve wanted, all you’ve ever dreamed of. Sanji has been your safety since you were just a child. You’ve never been satisfied dating, no one ever able to make you feel the way Sanji has made you feel. He’s stolen your heart, loved you so much. Who could ever compete?

You set the tray of Sanji’s refreshments on your bedside table and reach a hand out to gently jostle his shoulder.

“My love?” You hum. “Sweetheart, you need to get up and take your medicine so we can go have dinner.”

He yawns, one eye peeking open to look up at a you. Instantly, a smile lights up his face.

Gods, he’s your sun and stars.

“Hi” he begins. “How long was I sleeping?”

“A few hours. It was adorable. You were snoring.”

He scrunches up his nose, unable to hide the blush that rushes to his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Pretty. Do I keep you up with the snoring?”

You shake your head. “I love it. It reminds me that you’re next to me.”

The blush grows. You’ve loved seeing how much you can fluster him in the last few weeks. The smallest compliments make him blush. He whines and keens into every little kiss, every touch. It makes you want to kiss him until you die.

“Come on” you urge him. “You need to put something in your stomach and take your meds. Dr. Chopper’s orders.”

He snorts and hauls himself up until he’s leaning against your headboard. “The reindeer is a doctor. We’re gonna let the reindeer do surgery on us?”

You cock an eyebrow. “The reindeer already did surgery on you.”

Your lover visibly shudders. “With his hooves?”

“Worse. With his deer-man hands.”

Sanji leans his head back against the wall and groans, eliciting a booming laugh from your chest.

“Come on” you prod him. “It’s not that weird.”

He glances at you with faux terror in his eyes. “It is that weird” he assures you. “The reindeer saw me naked.”

“Chopper saw your ass.”

Another horrified groan, another belly laugh.

Gods, have you missed this goofy side of Sanji. There’s been a bit of a melancholic side to him for the last little while, maybe even since your journey with the crew began. You had always just brushed it off as homesickness, but in the days since he’s begun his bed-rest recovery, he’s been back to his charming, silly self.

“I love you when you’re like this” you inform him, flopping down on your belly beside him.

He downs the medication Chopper gave him before tilting his head at you. “Like what?”

“Happy. Rested.”

He looks down into his hands then, seeming to consider your words. On one hand, you know that the last few weeks have been a little anxiety inducing for him. Your other crew mates have had no choice but to start helping out in the kitchen, and losing control over his most sacred space always leaves Sanji in a sour mood.

On the other hand, you know he was desperately in need of some rest. He doesn’t lay his head down at night until he’s sure the kitchen is thoroughly cleaned and the next day’s breakfast is prepped. He wakes up before the sun to ensure that everyone on the crew has hot coffee and a filling breakfast the instant they roll out of bed.

He lays his hand on your cheek then, beginning to stroke your lips with his thumb. His hands smell strange, like berries and summer.

Was he using the hand cream in your bedside table?

“I don’t wanna go back to sleeping in the idiot room” he tells you, the insult coming off his lips so softly, so sweetly. “How am I supposed to sleep alone when I know the most beautiful woman in the world is sleeping right down the hall? How can I go back to waking up to Zoro’s ugly mug when I’ve been seeing you every morning?

You kiss the calloused fingers that are running along your lips.

(Yes, he’s been stealing your hand cream.)

“When you do your watches at night, we’ll have slumber parties” you propose. “We’ll drink tea and eat snacks.”

He smiles. “As much as I adore the idea of tea under the stars together, there’s nothing I’ll miss more than holding you while you sleep.”

You smile. As much as you want Sanji better, you hate that he’ll be leaving your room in the next few nights. You spent so long dreaming he was beside you only to wake in despair, clutching at your pillows as if you could magically pull him from the sheets. The thought of being in that place again, reaching to hold him and finding nothing but a cold bed is enough to make you panic just a bit.

“I’ll ask Nami if I can have weekly sleepovers” you decide. “I’ll pay her. She’ll probably love that.”

Sanji boops the tip of your nose. “A genius idea, my brilliant love.”

You glance at the clock on the wall then, the sudden twinge in your stomach reminding you that the two of you are late for dinner.

“Come on” you urge him, swinging your legs off the bed and stretching your arms up over your head. “Let’s go eat dinner. Luffy’s gonna eat everything before we have a chance to have any.”

Sanji gives a melodramatic frown then. “Hm. Can I stay here and kiss you instead? Your lips are better than anything Moss can throw together.”

Oh, that’s tempting. Over the last few weeks, Sanji has been nothing but chaste and a gentleman with you. He doesn’t touch until he’s told he can. He doesn’t kiss you with any sort of vigor until you’ve signaled it’s alright. He holds your hand. He holds doors open for you. He pulls chairs out for you. Unbelievably to you, getting him to make out with you the few times he has took a bit of effort. He feared that every movement of his hands would scared you off. He was worried you wouldn’t like the taste of his lips, the way his tongue moved, the roughness of his hands.

He tasted like cigarettes and mint.

The two of you had a good laugh about your best friend’s tongue all the sudden being in your mouth.

The calloused skin of his hands reminded you of every dish he’d ever cooked for you, every fight he’d ever fought to protect you.

“I wish” you tell him. “I think they’re all going to grab a drink at that pub in town after dinner. I’ll volunteer to watch the ship, and we can spend some time together.”

His smile, somehow, grows.

If you could spend the rest of your life staring at the joy on his face, you would.

#sanji #one piece #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #fluff #angst #friends to lovers

[offbrandkyoya]

[17]

m.list

Practice ends, and Kageyama is exhausted and sweating like crazy. He sneaks a glance at his crush, who’s putting away their stuff. Kageyama blushes before getting hit behind his back. “What the-“ “We have to change.” Hinata says and starts skipping to the changing room.

Kageyama huffs and follows.

“It’s so nice of you to come by.” Yachi says, standing next to Milk Chan. They smile at her. “Well, I always wanted to see how the boys practiced. They’re all determined.” Yachi nods. In all honesty, she wanted to throw up talking to them because of her anxiety, but her secret is just too funny.

“Say, you guys must’ve had a blast.” “What do you mean?” “You know, staying at your classroom.” They blink. “I didn’t see him in my class. I guess we missed each other.” Yachi smiles innocently. “Oh really? That’s a shame.” She sees Yamaguchi giving her an unsure stare.

She gives him a thumbs up, confusing him even more, and talks to Milk Chan again. “He looked intimidating standing outside Class 2.” “What?” Yamaguchi places a hand on Yachi's shoulder. “Hi, I’m going to borrow her a moment.” “O-Okay.”

Yamaguchi drags her to a corner and whispers, “What’re you doing?” “Making conversation!” “You look evil.” “Rude…” She pouts. The boy furrows his brows. “You’re up to something.” “No…” Yachi smiles, but Yamaguchi doesn’t return the gesture. “Yachi.” “Yamaguchi.”

“I love you, but you know something that we don’t.” “Whaaaaaaaaat?” Yachi shifts her gaze away from his. “Yachi.” She puffs up her cheeks. “You’ll see.” He lets her go and watches her walk back to Kageyama's crush.

“Sorry about that.” She says this, and Milk-Chan waves a hand. “It’s okay.” Yachi can tell Milk-chan looks a bit confused, and she feels a bit guilty. “Um, I’m really sorry for what I said.” They laugh and say, “It’s okay.” There’s a moment of silence before they clear their throats. “Did you really see Kageyama in Class 2?”

Yachi gulps. “N-No! Sorry, I must’ve mistaken him for someone else! That guy just looked like him.” “Yachi.” Milk-chan smiles warmly. “Tell me the truth. Did you see Kageyama in front of Class 2?” Yachi only stares, but Kageyama comes into the picture, standing behind Milk-chan.

“Are you ready?” He asks them. Milk-chan gives him a comforting smile. “Yes.” Kageyama nervously clears his throat. “Let’s get going then.” Hinata comes running up to them and holds his knees as he huffs. “Jesus Christ Kageyama! Running out and leaving me behind! Are you that desperate to see-?“

Kageyama covers his mouth with a red face. “Shut the fuck up, dumbass.” Hinata muffles curse words and shoves his hand away. “Be grateful that I’m nice. If…” He glances at Milk-Chan as he is about to refer to them by their given nickname. “If they weren’t here, I’d ditch you.” “And I’d hunt you down.” “What the hell?!”

Hinata slides next to them and whispers loudly, “You see how he treats me? Better stay away; he’s bad news!” “Do not tell them weird things!" Kageyama bolts to Hinata, and the smaller exits the gym, with Kageyama following behind. Ennoshita walks up to them and says, “Don’t worry. They’re always like this.” He reassures Milk-Chan. "Yeah, they’re nut cases.” Tanaka adds in. “So are you.” Ennoshita claims which Tanaka growls at.

“I should go. Thank you for having me.” Milk-Chan says and heads out of the gym. Yachi stands there in uncertainty. Yamaguchi pats her head. “I don’t know what you said, but don’t beat yourself up.” “I feel like I did something insensitive.” Tsukishima stands by the entryway. “Tadashi,” he calls out. “Want to go to the convenience store?” “Uh…”

Yamaguchi glances at Yachi, and she smiles at him. “I’ll be fine. Besides, Kiyoko and I are going to stay here for a bit longer.” “Really?!” Tanaka and Noya exclaim. Ennoshita slaps their heads. “You two have to study.”

Yamaguchi nods at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll also make sure Coach doesn’t catch you.” She tells him. Yamaguchi smiled and hurried over to Tsukishima. “Okay, let me change real quick.” “Okay.”

“I can’t believe I wasted my money on you.”

Hinata grumbles, stuffing his wallet in his bag. “You’re going to get robbed like that.” Kageyama states, taking a bite of his meat bun. “Shut up!” Milk-Chan smiles at Hinata. “Thanks for buying me one.” “No problem. I like you more than him.” “Ugh, shut up!”

“I’ll pay you back.” They say so, but Hinata laughs. “You don’t need to do that, really.” He puts a hand on their shoulder. “A friend of Kageyama is a friend of mine.” He winks, causing Kageyama to push him away. Milk-Chan sits down at the curb as the two bicker. Kageyama grabs Hinata's jacket but notices his crush sitting down.

He drops Hinata and sits right down next to them. “Do you like the meat bun?” He asks with a blush. Milk-Chan simply smiles. “Yeah. It’s good.” Hinata stands by the store doorway, eating his own meat bun. He doesn’t want to intervene, but he wants to know what’s going on.

“Kageyama.” He looks at them. “It was really cool seeing you play.” Kageyama rubs his neck. “R-Really?” “Yeah. You’re so good, and the way you let your teammates shine is amazing!” Kageyama gets flustered. “T-Thank you. You’re…amazing too.” They giggle, “But I didn’t do anything?”

“I-I know but…” He takes a breath, rips a piece of his snack, and offers it to them. “You being a friend to someone like me is an amazing thing itself.” Milk-Chan blinks at the food, then at Kageyama, staring at his reddened face.

A soft smile plasters on their face. “Thank you.” They take the piece and eat it. “I hope we get to hang out again.” Kageyama smiles too.

They lean on his shoulder, and he shudders. “By the way, Kageyama, my class number is 5, not 2.” Kageyama froze. They stand up. “Thanks again for treating me.” They say and start to walk away.  

Hinata processes what just happened and bursts out laughing. “You’re an idiot!” Kageyama gets up abruptly and begins to chase him around the store.

I…rewrote this chapter a billion times and I’m still not happy with it…

but yk its..it’s fine!

been getting back into bnha again because I LOVEEEEEEEEEE monoma neito ❤️

sanemi y genya scene got animated…how do we feel….

@karma-gisa @cosmiicdust @abcdefghijklmzopqrstuvwxyz @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @xmagik @tnazips @zhochikennugget @makkir0ll @asp7n @hrkdlsjz @lucky-chars @azharyy @gigiiiiislife @ahnneyong @rouzuchan @bakarinnie @djmoyolehuani @rinheartshyunlix @weirdowithaphone @luvvmae @diorzs @stefnarda @ilovecandys2010 @samvagejkflxhrt

#kageyama smau #kageyama tobio x you #hq kageyama #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #hq tobio #tobio x reader #kegayama tobio #haikyuu tobio #haikyuu smau series #haikyuu smau #haikyuu tsukki #haikyuu shoyo #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu yamaguchi #haikyuu #yachi hitoka #yamaguchi tadashi #hq tsukki #tsukishima kei #tanaka ryuunosuke #nishinoya yuu

[auncyen]

Jouvente's most awkward lunch is finally underway.

"So you're still traveling around, huh?"

"Mhm."

"Any special reason you're in Jouvente?" you ask, and try not to get your hopes up.

Siffrin doesn't answer for a beat, cutting off another small piece of the croque-madame he ordered after you reassured them that you were going to pay and didn't mind. The poached egg yolk oozes over the ham and cheese sandwich; Sif moves his fork around to sweep the few drops that run down to the plate back up on the bread. "Um. I...wanted to look for jobs."

Oof. Feels like your hopes got up without your permission. It's fine, they've been put back in place. "Oh! That's right, you used to do odd jobs, right? Any luck?"

"It's going alright! So...what about you? With the..." Siffrin trails off, their brow furrowing in a frustration all too familiar to you. You quickly finish chewing through the broccoli and egg in your mouth to bail them out.

"With the tailoring? Well, I could say it's only sew-sew, but actually, I'm really enjoying it!"

Okay, you had to wedge that pun in there, but still, you thought it'd get a smile out of Sif, maybe a chuckle. Instead, Siffrin looks confused before giving you a smile best described as 'polite'. Sure, his mouth turns up and all, but you don't think he got it in the slightest. "That's good!"

...Probably your mistake for going for sewing puns right after they forgot the word for your work. Yep. Move on, Isabeau. "Yeah! I really lucked out--the store was owned by a seamstress who's retiring. Well, still is owned, but we've got a contract for me buying the store from her. She already moved out to live with her bonded partners, but she stops in twice a week to teach me what I still need to learn about making clothes."

Sif...nods, encouraging you to go on.

"She's cool! She pretty much worked as a seamstress all her life, so she really knows her stuff. Tells me right away when I'm making a design way more work than it should be." Sometimes all the fiddling details were necessary, but other times, you could get the right effect a simpler way.

Siffrin nods, still smiling politely.

Huh. You scoop up another bite of your quiche as an excuse not to talk for a minute, noting that Sif goes for another cut piece of croque-madame at the same time. You never thought a lunch with Sif could be awkward, but...

Boy, is this awkward!

Why is it awkward? You and Siffrin were thick as thieves during your adventure. Sure, it's been a while, you couldn't expect things to be the same right off the bat, but...

“M’dame Odile and Mira will be glad to hear you’re doing okay.”

Siffrin nods. Then he looks confused. Then...you're not sure what that expression is.  “Wait, are they here too?  In Jouvente?”

“No, no, but we’ve been writing!  The last letter was a week ago, they were going to see...aha, apparently there's a play about Mirabelle? She said it was embarrassing, but she and Odile were too curious not to go. Hopefully they liked it!" You weren't all that curious yourself. After all, you'd already lived the adventure. You knew the real story, the real Mirabelle! You hoped the play portrayed her and everyone else well, but you were pretty sure there was no way they had all the details.

Also...you had a bad feeling you were probably portrayed as a jock through and through. Since that was how you acted. You could picture the cast: determined Mirabelle, leading the way; clever Odile, strategizing against hordes of Sadnesses and then the King himself; fun-loving Sif, raising everyone's spirits with jokes and protecting them from traps; brave Bonnie, keeping everyone healthy with good food; ...meathead Isabeau, whose good point was being too dumb to fear the danger.

You're jolted out of that extremely unhelpful thought by Siffrin's next question. “They’re traveling…together?”

...That's a weird tone. “Housemaidens usually go on at least one pilgrimage, not sure if you knew that.  Since M’dame was interested in seeing a little of what Vaugarde's like when it's normal, Mira asked her if they could travel together. So they spent a few months in Vaugarde, and right now they're in Poteria. I think they're planning on Lichtland next? Eventually they'll get to Ka Bue, but it sounded like both of them planned on taking their time.“

Sif's brow is furrowed again as he looks down at his plate. Is he jealous? You were jealous too when you found out. But you get it! Of course Mira and M'dame didn't ask you. You were busy being a sad sack about Siffrin. Well, and even without that, why should they have invited you? It was their trip. Not like you had a good reason to tag along, just...

It would have been nice to.

You can't complain--Jouvente's been good to you. You were the guest of honor at a party hosted by the city, your family is so proud of you (though you know Guy is just happy to boast that he's a Savior's sibling to his partner of the week, which keeps making you secondguess how sincere everyone else is when they reach out to you), the neighbors in your new place have been warm and friendly, you got to start on designing clothes so much faster than you thought you would.

You just miss Mira and Odile a whole lot. You miss Bonbon. You miss what you had with Siffrin, because everything about this lunch feels so off, and at this point you have to ask.

"Sif...you are doing okay, right?"

They immediately smile brightly enough that their eye closes. "Of course I am! Why wouldn't I be?"

#in stars and time #no loops au #siffrin #isabeau #I'd tag isafrin but these two are actively bombing any chemistry atm

[lily-of-the-tardis]

*sigh* This article is actually not trying to ignore Doctor Who’s history so let’s take a look instead of screaming about a headline.

First of all the headline’s been changed on the actual website but it doesn’t seem that Twitter reflects that.

The lede has always been about how they’re talking specifically about the Doctor only as they are aware side characters have had same-sex kisses. I can’t verify for certain but I believe they added “explicitly romantic” to clarify things as this section always existed in the article:

They always meant to discuss what’s actually new here: a completely reciprocal same-sex romance for the Doctor onscreen. We can argue about whether Nine was interested in Jack, but I think we can agree there was far more interest displayed by the Doctor when it came to Rogue. But it’s perfectly fine that they wrote an article detailing what actually is a huge moment for the show and honestly that should be encouraged. I want to see more articles writing about queer parts of shows instead of ignoring them.

And yes, this whole thing is a side-effect of Disney but only because their licensing rights (they don't have any control over the show) have made Doctor Who far more accessible in the US. Plus, they're doing some pretty serious advertising to put the show on more people's radars, which is likely why anyone at Deadline Hollywood was even aware of Rogue and wrote this article. No one is pretending Disney has erased the show's past and is doing all these new "firsts".

The issue here is primarily that the headline is disingenuous. Their article has always been about the Doctor’s first explicitly romantic same-sex relationship, but they wanted clicks so they wrote the headline to be vaguer and imply something much more groundbreaking. Even saying “first romantic same-sex kiss” is a bit disingenuous, as it doesn’t clarify the kiss is referring to the title character.

Thankfully they corrected the article after receiving feedback from the fans, which is great.

But they did their research, which y’all would’ve known if you bothered to look at the article (which isn’t actually behind a paywall! A rarity these days, though I can’t speak to access outside the US). If something seems informationally off to you, go to the source and actually look at what they're saying, then find the facts. We're not going to get anywhere if we just continue to yell about headlines without reading the actual article that, you know, expands upon the snapshot headline.

The topic of critique should be their poor headline, not the supposed lack of truth in their article. It's great to call them out for poor reporting, as they claim to be a news source and those should be factual, unbiased reporting as opposed to a tabloid. But the issue in their reporting here is simply their phrasing. Criticize them for misleading, not for an assumed lack of information that was actually acknowledged and present in the article. They need to improve but they won't until the real problem is highlighted for them.

#doctor who #deadline hollywood #rogue #doctor who rogue #doctor who spoilers #dw spoilers #15th doctor #fifteenth doctor #doctorrogue #9th doctor #ninth doctor #jack harkness #fifteen

[bonefall]

Thoughts on Wasp? I like the idea of cats joining that turn out that the Clans aren’t great… but also it feels… weird? Like it seems like another “lazy cat bad” on some levels. I don’t mind him not joining the Clans but these “outsider learns they’re not fit for the Clans” things always give me a pause from the Erins. Also interested in how you would handle him!

Moonkitti's video on him is really well worded, if you haven't seen it yet. I do think he's different from the way that other books tend to portray outsiders in that they are saying that he was driven away by the xenophobia of the Clans... but.

They still make him extremely disinterested in Clan life while he's in ThunderClan. I think that was a massive blunder to write, if the thing they're trying to say is "XENOPHOBIA PREVENTS OTHERWISE ENTHUSIASTIC MIGRATION"

It would have hit harder if it was Wafflepaw who tried to run to RiverClan, got assaulted, and then didn't want to be a Clan cat anymore.

Wafflepaw WANTS to be a warrior. Wasp did not. It reads more like Wasp getting hate crime'd was a "last straw" more than THE reason why he won't stay.

That's where you're getting that vibe they're saying "lazy cat bad," imo. It's a bit different from usual, but it still seems like the narrative is saying that Wasp really didn't belong here anyway.

(no, Nightheart's moment where he looks at the camera and says "he could have been fine!" doesn't change that they showed, in their text, with the actions they wrote, that Wasp was not enjoying being part of the Clans anyway. If that was their intended thesis, their writing was sloppy.)

It feels especially weird that Bee didn't go with Frostpaw. Bee was the character with a lot more setup and that strange dream. A lot of people were confusing Bee and Wasp when the book first came out and I don't blame them.

Most importantly, you can't talk about Wasp without also mentioning one of THE worst lines I think has ever been written into a Warrior Cats book. The part where tigerHeartstar says, "Those cats who just committed a hate crime were perfectly good people before the evil dictator took over. If we kill the evil dictator, I'm sure they'll CHANGE BACK"

I'm still REELING. Fuck you MEAAAN "CHANGE BACK????" CHANGE BACK? LIKE BEING A BIGOT IS UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES???

CHANGE BACK... me bringing my evil dollars up to the villain store and exchanging it for racism coins... change back...

So when I get around to it, I'm going to evaluate if Wasp is even actually necessary in the form he's in. BB is already about xenophobia and bigotry and the harm it does. Frostpaw has no shortage of examples to witness what Thistle Law is, and what it does to those excluded from Clan Culture.

When I first made my Family Tree for RiverClan, I actually ended up making Splashstar's MOM, Havenpelt, an ex-rogue. I think seeing him order a hate crime against his own mother would be a LOT more impactful here, actually.

What Frostpaw DOES need is allies and friends. I'm already starting by expanding her little "DND Party," a word I'm using to affectionately refer to some cats who will be following her home from her pilgrimage to the Park. 99% chance that Nightheart is going to become a permanent member of this party, joining RiverClan at the end of ASC. Waffle will be another. She'll probably also pick up a Tribe cat.

Wasp will be on this party, but I won't decide what happens to them until I see what that last book has in store. Who knows, he might come back (though I hope not, run as far away from these ghouls as possible Wasp!!)

#asc spoilers #wasp #Wasp wc #warrior cats analysis #ThunderClan is NOT keeping Wafflepaw they couldn't even use Stormcloud!!! #So help me GOD I will REPURPOSE a name from somewhere and macgyver a son for Stormcloud who can take Waffle's roles in thunderclan #I REFUSE TO LET THIS SERIES FORGET STORMCLOUD #IM GIVING HIM SOOO MANY COOL THINGS IN BB WRAAAAAAAAAAAAHH

[kirimoochi]

the prince.

₊˚ ᗢ suna rintarou x figure skater! fem! reader.

⤷ suna has been leaving practice early and the team starts to wonder why.

“Ah, I should start heading out for today.” 

Suna slings his bag over his shoulders, tugging on the straps as his other hand grips his phone. He’s seen typing a quick message and hitting send the moment his blond-haired teammate spikes the volleyball. From the corner of Kita’s eyes, he notices Suna’s lips curl into a small smile. It seemed uncharacteristic of the boy. So much so that Atsumu is quick to be at his side, leaning over his shoulder with gleaming interest. 

As of recently, Suna has been leaving practice a lot earlier. The first time it happened, he hurriedly ran to the locker rooms to change, rushing out of the doors with his shirt halfway across his torso. The second time, he left when Kita turned around to talk to Atsumu about his serve. This caught the attention of Aran, who sighed at his sly antics. The third time, he was caught by their coach and forced to give a half-assed apology before running off again. No matter how often the boys see it, they’re always surprised by how fast he can run when he puts his mind to it. 

So, before he was able to turn around and make a jog towards the door, Atsumu stopped him by putting his hand on his shoulder. A glimmer of mischief shines through his dark-brown eyes. “Where do you think you’re going? Don’t think we didn’t notice you cut practice early!”

Osamu wipes the sweat off his brow, “It’s unlike you to leave so early. You got somewhere to go?” 

The boy in question looks off to the side for a moment, eyes flickering back and forth from his phone to the court. He awkwardly clears his throat as he turns away, “Yeah. I wanted to watch my friend’s performance tonight.” 

Atsumu and Osamu are seen groveling beside each other, jaws dropped as Kita approaches the group. It’s a surprise, they thought. To think that this stoic, snarky, sarcastic man had friends outside of volleyball was unheard of. In all their time being together, in the same classes and lunch table, the Miya twins did not see it coming. Perhaps they should have by the way Suna smiled at his phone once in a while, seemingly always texting someone on the other line. 

The blond-setter points at him accusingly, “You have friends outside of us! Suna you cheater!” 

“This is quite the news…”

“If they’re friends with him out of all people… they must be something.” 

The man in question was incredibly sly, albeit lazy. The longer he stays in the game, the more he begins to slack off. It’s only until Kita is brought into the game that he’s unable to rest. Aran points out that Suna did not attempt to hide things. He was always on his phone, never inching it away when someone was close, being too engrossed in his conversation to care about lingering eyes. It was partially their fault for never asking. 

“Man, now I’m curious!” Atsumu comments, slapping him on the back, “You wouldn’t mind if we join your friend’s little performance?” 

“Tsumu, you can’t just invite yourself.” 

Suna remains quiet before pocketing his phone. Tugging on his bag, he starts to walk towards the swinging doors. “It’s fine. I don’t think my friend would mind.” He looks back at Atsumu and Osamu, narrowing his eyes with slight annoyance, “Just don’t cause trouble for them.” 

The rest of the team quickly packed up their things, with Kita waving them off with a simple goodbye. He says he should stay to clean up the gym while they have fun. It was only a few days before their next game. Perhaps it was a deserved rest for tonight. And it would be nice for them to update him on who this mysterious friend is. 

“I’m surprised you got such a close friend! It doesn’t seem like you talk to them in person.” Omimi scratches the back of his neck, fiddling slightly with the ends of his hair. He’s never seen Suna talk about them despite how often he leaves practice early.

“They don’t come to class,” Suna replied.

“So they just skip? How unfair is that!” Atsumu groans, tucking his arms over his chest as he lets out a scoff. How lucky this person must be. If he had the option, he’d ditch the drab books and go to the gymnasium every day. Osamu pokes him in the side, snickering about how it’d make no difference in his grade if he skipped class. The two begin to bicker behind the group while Aran jogs a little faster to meet with Suna. 

“Say, what kind of person are they?”

The dark-haired boy lets out a hum, shifting his head side to side. 

“A prince?” 

Ice crackles underneath the thin blade. The figure weaves elegantly through the frigid platform. The slight shimmer from their ruffled clothes waves back and forth in the air, taunting the audience forward as they raise their arms, performing a triple axel with a slight wobble to their toe. They choose to ignore this flaw, continuing with their program as if nothing happened. Sliding left and right, gliding across the ice as their hands trail from the vein on the side of their neck, tracing it down to their ribcage. 

The Prince was not an unfamiliar name. Rumors quickly spread at the beginning of the year that a new transfer student would be entering their semester. Whispers came from all directions. They were a professional figure-skater. A whole league of their own in the competitive world. Having won several out-of-country competitions, they came back to Japan a kissed hero. It was a shame that on the first day, they never showed up. Their teacher had announced that week, stating they wouldn’t be able to attend classes in person. However, they would still be around for some afterschool programs.

Despite not attending classes, it was evident there was a star lingering amongst them.

The prince was not a prince, but a lady. She slid amongst the field with enough grace to match a swan. Yet the crackling of ice and precise jumps remind them of the careful footwork of a mountain goat. Every move performed was planned. Every sweat poured onto the ice was a sign of their meticulous work. They had to be precise. Sharp enough to cut through the finest of steel. They were in other words, flawless tonight. 

“Man, I wonder if I could do some of those tricks too,” Atsumu comments, folding his arms over the other as Suna’s eyes remained unmoving from the scene. The team notices the way the skater’s arms move smoothly alongside their skates, almost as if they were one flowing piece in the wind. Their facial expression was concentrated, with only a thin trickle of sweat dripping down their chin.

Osamu was standing in front of the glass, eyes blown wide as he was met with a sparkling scene. The rest of the team cannot hold back their gasp as they watch the skater perform a double axel followed by a triple salchow. A jump that they could only imagine doing in front of a live audience. They were only starting the second half of their program, yet they’ve performed this many jumps already. It was impossible to hide the smile that was forming on Suna’s face.

“I doubt it.”

Figure skating is one of the most rigorous sports someone could play. Not only do you need the mastery of ballet, but training and practice could last months before you are even ready to perform competitively. Nothing slips past the judges. Not a single step should be wasted on a breath unless called for. Everything should be perfectly calculated by their choreographer. From the movements of their fingers to the tilt of their neck, only those who are within this exclusive world can understand the hard work and dedication each skater had for themselves. While a volleyball player could get away with slipping on the ground, it is a fatal move in figure skating. 

You finished your performance with trickles of sweat down your temple. Although the ice was cold, your body was warming up from the inside out. It was burning with passion. And you could feel it in the tips of your fingers, this was going to be the start of something great. Finally able to breathe fully, you turned your head, noticing a very familiar face that you proceeded to skate towards. 

“Rin!” You jumped into his open arms, letting him twirl you around as the glaring stares from the volleyball team pierced through his skull. The cold expression you had on the ice had melted away the moment you landed on him. “You made it!” 

(L/n), (Y/n): Professional Figure Skater, representing Japan in the Grand Prix. Her most notable achievement was winning gold in the Junior Grand Prix two years ago, with her main focus now being to conquer the senior division by her third year in high school. She transferred to Inarizaki in hopes of continuing her education, but her training program had become more demanding, making it difficult for her to attend classes. 

You and Suna met in kindergarten, having been paired up together because of the latter’s bratty behavior. You were the definition of a picture-perfect child and being with him ruined that perception. You and he would always spend time talking to each other in class, even when it was mandatory nap time, he would always find a way to lay next to you and poke the center of your palm. Such antics led to you being a little more rebellious and open-mouthed with your opinions. Finally able to speak your mind about the things you want to do. You both declared your desired goals for the future during nap time.

While he wanted to continue playing volleyball, you wanted to be a figure skater, just like your grandmother was when she was a young girl. She had gotten an injury during the semifinals and was unable to move forward. It was a tragic event that had affected your family for years. Your aunts and uncles shook their heads in silent fear and disapproval towards the sport. Your mother, although hesitant at first, could not deny you this wish. Not when Suna held onto your hand tightly as you began to sob in front of her, claiming with all your heart that you will without a doubt, come home with a gold between your teeth. 

When you looked back at him after your first free skate program, despite missing several of your jumps and hitting the ground with your cheek, you smiled brightly. Even when you formed bruises behind the back of your knee or cried into the depths of your pillow after losing gold by two points, he was always there on the other side of the line. Whispering words of encouragement, the two of you were constantly there for each other. While you may have been away in an entirely different city, with Suna having been scouted for volleyball and your changes to your coach, your relationship hasn’t changed whatsoever.

If anything, it felt a lot closer. It made your heart fonder.

And so the volleyball team was left in awe, looking out at the sight of a very soft, domesticated Suna holding onto his closest friend. The two held each other close as he pressed his forehead against yours. He fiddled with the side of your waist, wondering if this might be a good time to tell you how he felt after all these years.

But perhaps it could wait once the two of you made it to the peaks of your career. 

#₊˚ ᗢ kirimoochi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #inarizaki x reader

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for telling people I don’t work here?

Ok so it’s Saturday morning and I (28M) don’t have a lot on my mind, besides like maybe lunch, I’m a little hungover so I go to the supermarket really to just get out of the house. Then suddenly this woman approaches way to fast and her eyes are intense And she spits on me a little as she asks, “where do you keep the pasta?” and I’m confused but I try to be polite so I say, “I dunno aisle 3?” And then she demands get it for her! I just stand there for a moment because I was just trying to get a Gatorade and I don’t want to deal with this, but then she rolls her eyes and I kind of lose it. 

So I tell her, “Hey! I don’t work here and if I did I would not sell you shit!” And then I say, ”Maybe should work here so I can hide all the things you want from you!” and, “If I did work here do you think I’d be wearing a dirty white singlet? Ya fool!” Then I noticed the pasta was there the whole fucking time so I tell her, “Silly me I’ve had the pasta all along. Fuck you” and she starts crying. 

So now it’s the afternoon and I’m not going to lie, I feel really great about making a middle age woman cry today. So I’m taking a walk on the hot sand on the beach and decide to take a rest in the shade of the lifeguard tower (and my foresight readies me for melee) so then this man runs up from the surf way to fast, with a bluebottle across his chest he shakes me as he asks “you’ve got to save my kid!” But I can’t swim, so I tell him that, and he gets all upset and goes “what kind of a kid guard are you then?” And I’m tired and just wanted to take a nap but he rolls his eyes so I kind of snap.

And I tell him “Hey! I don’t work here but if I did I would not save your kid!” And then I tell him “maybe I should work here that way I could help relieve that nasty sting for you” and I tell him “do you think a life guard would make a race car out of sand then fall asleep?” And then I get a bit sidetracked thinking about how I should probably get a job and I guess I’m mumbling because the guy asks if I was thinking about saving his son and I tell him no and he says “What about my son, he's drowning?!” Then I look over his shoulder and see that no he isn’t and I tell him "Your son's fine, he just swims weird, and you shouldn't hold that against him.” And the guy turns around to check and I take that as my moment to get out of there.

So it’s night now and I’m not thinking about much just kicking a ball down the street then I give it to much juice and it flies over the fence of my local NASA compound (just bear with me) I climb over the fence to get it when I realize the guards are all passed out and it seems there’s been a planed attack. The alarms are blaring but I’m the only one in tact. I try to phone for help but something must be blocking it. And they’re an alien transmitting itself to NASA screens specifically. And the alien says “Give us ya planet” and I’m trying to figure out way to do or find any one who can actually handle this and I tell the aliens but it just repeats “Give us ya planet” and I try to get someone to answer me and tell them we’re under attack and again the alien says “Give us ya planet” and I try to tell it that I don’t have the authority to do that but it just won’t listen. I just came to get my ball but it’s been a long day so I’ll speak for all of humanity. 

(Also I didn’t know this at the time but apparently this had worldwide news coverage)

So I tell the alien “Hey! I don’t work here and if I did I would not surrender shit!” And I tell it “maybe I should work here that way I could take a trip to mars and strangle you!” And I ask “Do you think the president of Earth has a fucking mullet?” And at this point I’m just letting out all the anger from the day and I tell it  “maybe I should work here that way I could put my planetary fist in you, I could teach your kid to drown in front of you, and I could hide all of the linguini from you!” 

Then the alien fucked right off and also I’m the president of earth now. So AITA

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality